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imaginidol · 11 months

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POV: The Intimate Moments Between You & Kai's Relationship

There's a faint sound of running faucet water that wakes you up from a slumber that you hadn't even noticed you'd slipped into. You hear a faint tap, tap, tap coming from a corner of the room.

It takes you a couple seconds to realize you're in some sort of hotel room. Actually, you are. A quick glance at a sleek men's suitcase sitting at the foot of the window reminds you that you're in Jongin's room. This is his bed.

Tap, tap, tap. You turn over and find yourself peeking at Jongin through the bathroom mirror, which is in broad view from where you lay in bed. Jongin is spreading shaving cream all over his beard stubble and faint mustache, possibly unaware that you'd even woken up.

Right, the memories start flooding back to you. You were out all night with Jongin and the rest of the management and EXO members, hopping from an evening dinner to a late-night American talk show interview and performance, and somehow soberly made your way back to the hotel. I must've done it again last night. Shit, did I... did I fall asleep with Jongin--

"Good morning," Jongin's voice startles you back to reality and away from your traveling thoughts. "Kind of unprofessional that my hairstylist slept in my room, don't you think?"

Oh no, you think to yourself, feeling around the nightstand table for your phone. You have plenty missed calls and texts from the manager.

Shit, I'm definitely getting fired, you curse quietly in your head.

Last night you’d had only a few drinks for dinner. All you really remember was spending most of the evening whispering with Jongin back and forth next to each other at the dinner table. The flirting lead to a quiet text message from him reading, “come to my room later,” and you obeyed happily. Needless to say, the rest of the night was history.

“Shit, I’ve gotta get back to my room,” you start to say as you throw your legs over the edge of the bed, only to quickly look down and realize you’re wearing nothing more than your underwear. Shit.

"You can stay," Jongin looks at you mischiviously through the bathroom mirror as he finishes washing his face. "I'll cover for you if the manager asks."

You roll your eyes and begin searching for your pants, blouse, and heels scattered all about the floor, quickly dressing yourself as the time on your phone flashes to 6:37 AM. Everyone is probably awake by now, so I've got to run back to my room before anyone sees me.

"Text me," Jongin sheepishly calls out after you as you run out the door and into the hallway.

A little over half an hour later you're back in Jongin's room with Minseok and Chanyeol. Minseok rumages through Jongin's suitcase looking for a particular cologne. You're touching up the last of Chanyeol's hair with a thin comb. Suddenly, a flash of light catches your attention.

"Say cheese," Jongin says from behind you, as he's rotating a camera in his hands in your direction. "You're gonna be in our vlog. Get-Ready-With-EXO behind the scenes!"

"Jongin," Minseok mutters from behind. Jongin, mindlessly recording still, turns around and gasps as Minseok is holding up a very familiar bra. "Don't leave this next to my Dior, please."

Your eyes widen and your hands tense up at the sudden realization: I didn't take my bra! Your thoughts are interrupted by a small whimper from Chanyeol as you realize you'd pulled his hair in the process without meaning to.

"Shit, sorry Channie," you mumble, your cheeks flushing faintly.

Jongin laughs nervously, turning the camera off. "Nevermind. Guess you've got enough screen-time in the vlog already," he mutters. "Uh, Minseokie, a... fan gave me that last night. After the... talk show."

He slyly raises an eyebrow in your direction at the word fan, and you, embarrassed, turn your attention back to Chanyeol's hair, re-doing his middle part for the umpteenth time.

Chanyeol notices the exchange of expressions through the mirror. He inhales and exhales quietly, turning his attention to his phone and not saying a word.

"Jongin," you stay back for a few minutes after the other members have left the room. "This isn't working. We're not working. Minseok could've found out--"

"Minseok recognizes your bra like that?"

"What? No! I'm just saying, what if it were something more... obvious?"

"They wouldn't mind if I told them," he says, now sitting on the floor next to his suitcase and wrapping your bra inside one of his black t-shirts for you to sneak back into your room discretely.

"No, you can't tell them because I work for you guys. I'm your hairstylist, and it's wrong!"

"Why is it wrong?" he looks up from the neatly folded t-shirt.

"I will get fired. It could cause a scandal if another employee finds out. It could cost you your career!"

"Fine," he exhales, grabbing a set of playing cards from the nightstand table that Chanyeol had left earlier. "I'll end it now. On one condition."

"Okay," you whisper. He flips through a few cards between his fingers.

"Look me in the eye," he whispers, bringing an ace card to his lip, "and tell me you don't want me anymore."

Shit.

Your eyes lock with his. You can't bring yourself to say it.

My better judgement is telling me that maybe I should leave, you think.

"Jongin--" you start to mutter, but your voice is caught in your throat.

"You won't," he says, slowly standing up. He stands in front of you, completely towering over your frame. He lets the ace card fall to your feet, and by your luck it lands facing up.

Aha, you think, how could anyone say no to the ace of EXO?

Definitely not me.

You feel his fingers grasp your hands as he leans down and grazes his soft lips against your forehead.

"It'll take me a while to get over you if you leave," he whispers, "but I'll be okay."

Your eyes close as your noses begin to nudge each other, your lips softly calling for his. One peck, two pecks, three pecks later, you find yourself kissing Jongin over and over again.

You pull him closer to you, nudging him to sit on the edge of the bed with you. You're wrapping one hand around his neck, the other slowly making its way up from his waist to his collarbone. You cup his jaw gently in one palm, soft kisses shared back and forth, each slowly becoming firmer and harsher after the other.

You're about to invite his arms around your own waist when suddenly the sound of the door bursts open.

"Jongin, I left my cards in--"

You and Jongin quickly turn around to find yourselves meeting face-to-face with Chanyeol. He halts in his tracks, not moving a muscle from his stance at the door. Your eyes widen, then Chanyeol's, then Jongin's. You can't tell whose cheeks are reddening the brightest in the room, a wave of embarrassment from all angles inhabiting the air. Chanyeol says nothing, and immediately steps back into the hallway almost as quickly as he'd stepped in.

Unprofessional, you think.

You turn back to Jongin, who's now scrolling through his phone in search of Chanyeol's number.

"I'm so getting fired," you whisper. Jongin simply looks up from his phone, a sheepish smile spreading over his face as he holds his phone up to his ear to call Chanyeol.

"He won't do anything," he swears.

"How do you know he won't!?"

"Because," he smiles. "He likes you too, but you're mine now."

He winks at you, reaches towards the end of the bed to retrieve something, and hands you a rather neatly folded bulky black t-shirt.

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ugotnojamzzz · 3 years

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Mistake Pt.1

I do not own this gif

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt, ex!Jungkook

Synopsis: Jungkook hasn’t healed even months after his ex-girlfriend Y/N said ‘I do’ to another man.

For a bit of context while I try and write what came before: Y/N is a successful singer songwriter although it’s not super relevant here. I guess you could imagine her to be American although it won’t be clearly stated, she has been really close friends with the other members, for several years especially Hoseok. She had a tumultuous yet terribly loving relationship with JK that ended on rather good terms (you’ll see in other chapters), but Jungkook was lightyears away from being ready to see her married to another man.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language, so I apologize in advance for mistakes and awkward wordings to come. Also, I guess this fic could be triggering for some because it’s kind of really sad and angsty.

Chapter soundtrack : He can only hold her – Amy Winehouse

"He can only hold her for so long The lights are on, but no one's home She's so vacant, her soul is taken, He thinks, What's she running from?"

Alright let’s get into this.

The Annual Hong Kong Benefit for the national Art Institute. Y/N wandered around the sumptuous halls of the venue, occasionally making small talks with a few people, all the while enjoying a nice glass of champagne. The gallery was beautiful and the art simply exquisite. She was just talking to one of the curators about purchasing one of the paintings when she felt her phone vibrating in her purse.

‘Incoming call from Namjoon-ah’

Weird, she thought, it was late at night, and the band and her had already planned to have lunch all together the next day as they were, by a happy coincidence, both in Hong Kong at the same time. The band was there for a concert and some PR business, while Y/N was there to attend a couple of events during the social season. She excused herself and picked up right away.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hi, um, I’m so, so sorry to bother you, I know that you’re at this Gala thing but, we kind of have a situation over here…”

“You sound worried, is everyone okay?”

“Actually… no. It’s Jungkook, he’d been acting weird all day and he just- freaked out two hours ago and walked out before the concert was even over.”

“Christ, is he alright? Is somebody looking after him?

“Yeah, not really, he’s cooped up in his hotel room. The staff is losing it, and he won’t let anybody in, but he- he did say he wanted to see you. Do you think you could come over? I wouldn’t normally ask but-“

“No, it’s okay. I- I’ll be right there” she hung up, racing out of the building, stilettos in hand, and immediately hailing a cab.

She rushed out of the elevator only to see the boys sitting at the end of the hallway with a defeated look on their face.

“Y/N! Thank god you’re there” Namjoon said, jumping on his feet to greet her.

“Is he in there?” she asked urgently, a worried look on her face.

“Yes, he ended up opening the door, let Tae in, but I don’t think he’s said anything yet” Namjoon replied.

Y/N walked past him and towards the hotel room. She knocked softly on the door before cracking it open, only to hear Jungkook’s voice shouting: “For fuck’s sake! I told you I didn’t-“

“It’s me,” she interrupted gently, venturing into the room. It was dark, but she still managed to catch a glimpse of the outcome of her ex-boyfriend’s recent mood swings. Chair fallen over, open minibar and clothes scattered all over the floor of the luxurious suite.

Jungkook was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees and back facing her, but she could still see his shoulders moving up and down as tiny sobs racked through his body. Tae was on his knees in front of him, he looked up at her as soon as she entered. Y/N gave him a weak nod as to indicate that he could leave. He got up and silently walked out of the room, making sure to squeeze her arm on the way out.

She let out a long sigh as she heard the door close behind her. What now? She decided to approach him slowly, the sound of her high heels against the waxed floor letting the boy know of her movements.

“Hey Kookie,” Y/N murmured, looking down at his shaking figure. But the boy kept his eyes on the floor, so she got down on her knees in front of him, “Joon-ah called me… said you had a bit of a problem earlier.” She waited for him to speak for a few seconds but was only met with silence, so she carried on, “you know you can tell me any-”

“I um,” he interrupted with an unusually hoarse voice, his puffy eyes finally looking up, only to see her all dressed up in a beautiful gown. “Shit,” he sighed, “I’m sorry, you- you had your thing, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m such a moron,” he started pulling on his hair, rocking back and forth.

“Hey, it’s okay. I don’t care about that,” she squirmed closer to him and delicately pulled his hands away from his face. Let’s just say she’d seen him looking better. “I care about you. Now tell me, what is it? The boys are worried out of their mind-”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, “I-I really thought I’d be okay, I thought I could handle it, but- but then I saw you and you-” he paused, “you were so… okay. And- and I just-” he looked back down in embarrassment, only to see the delicate gold band that sat in all its glory on her finger. A sour smirk appeared on his face, “Jesus, I’m such a fuck-up.”

“No, you’re not, we all have bad days… You’re probably tired. I remember touring was always hard on you guys’ nerves,” Y/N said with a strained smile, her hand brushing the boy’s hair away from his face, desperately trying to avoid the clear fact that she was the one responsible for his pain. “Come on, let’s get you into bed,” she helped him up and took a few steps back to pick up some of the mess from the floor but before she could lean forward, Jungkook had her engulfed in a tight hug, taking her by surprise.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, feeling his heartbeat settle down, “for being here, I mean.”

“You know I’ll always be here,” she replied with a faint smile, hugging him back.

He rested his head on top of hers and inhaled deeply, taking in the citrusy scent of her hair, before burying his face in the crook of her neck. Y/N tensed up as she started feeling his lips travelling across her skin, pressing soft kisses along the surface of her collarbone.

“Kookie, wait-” she whispered, trying to reason the boy.

“Please… Please…” he moaned sadly, his voice breaking as he held onto her for dear life, “Just- just this one time, please, I just- I really need you right now.”

“Jungkook, I can’t, I’m marr-”

“Don’t- don’t say it,” he hissed, stamping away from her to take a seat at the end of the bed, “Please... Just don’t.” She brushed her fingertips against the skin of her neck in an attempt to replace the warmth that had disappeared along with Jungkook’s lips.

The boy’s chest was heaving as he stared at her gorgeous figure, his travelling across every inch of her skin. The skin that was once his to touch. As their eyes finally met, Y/N felt in her core something very wrong was about to happen. He had that look in his eyes. The same look he’d had the very first time they’d- beentogether. Back at the dorms. Like she was the sun. Jungkook suddenly got up and walked up to where she stood. He grabbed her by the waist and planted a firm kiss on her lips. They were soft, just like they always were. Heaven, he thought. But that certainly didn’t last long.

“You’re drunk,” she said, shoving him away with a resentful look in her eyes.

“I’m not. I’m mean, I’m more sober than I’ve been these past eight months” he replied. Eight months, she thought, Jesus, this had been going on since the ceremony. But her thoughts were interrupted as Jungkook walked right back towards her and vigorously pushed his lips back against hers.

“Oh, cut it out, will you!” she yelled, pushing him away once more, this time with more strength, making him stumble a bit.

Jungkook stood there, frozen for a second, while she stared down at the floor, remorse invading her whole body. She wasn’t only feeling guilty about the fact that she’d let herself be in that situation in the first place, but also that deep down, she somehow felt there was no place on earth she’d rather be.

He took a step forward hesitantly and placed a hand against her cheek, his index finger travelling down to meet her chin, gently lifting her head and forcing her to look him in the eyes.

She placed a trembling hand against his chest, ready to reject him once more. Her tiny fist was clenching the fabric of his shirt as she took in a shaky breath, mentally begging for the willpower to turn around and walk out the door. But he had the look. And she felt her heart breaking as she was met with his tear-filled eyes. This was all her doing.

In a leap of faith, he gently lowered his head and let his lips brush against her cheek, before going on a painfully slow journey towards her lips. Now, it wasn’t like the two previous kisses. This one was tender. Desperate.

And as she couldn’t help but close her eyes at the contact, she felt her resistance slip away and swiftly wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, as he eagerly unzipped the back of her dress.

By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.

Hope you liked it! Like I mentioned in a previous post, this is actually going to be part of a lonnnng ass series and this is not even the beginning of the story, this just happened to be the first chapter I managed to actually finish, but I’ll make sure that it’s all easy to understand as I gradually post the other chapters. Don't hesitate to send me whatever xxx

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hyunjilicious · 3 years

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100 ways to say ‘I love you’ Christmas Edition [bucky barnes]

Summary: it’s pretty self explanatory, I guess. (FLUFF) 1.6k

Warnings: absolutely none, just Bucky being cute, awkward and madly in love with you!!

In 2018, you were in Namibia, hunting down an American terrorist that had been on the run for the better part of the year. In 2019, the avengers were scattered around the globe, executing a 'shoot first, ask questions later' type of mission that ended long after the new year began. But this year, all of your friends were home. For the first time in years, the Stark Tower was shining from top to bottom with Christmas lights, carols echoing down all of its long, secluded hallways. It was the first time you'd get to actually spend the night of 24th of December with your true family. That is, if you made it in time. Back on December 19th, you and Bucky got stuck in the depths of Louisiana, with absolutely no means of communication, let alone transportation. You decided to make the best out of the situation and turn it into a road trip, but time flew by so much faster than expected, that it was now 2:13 pm on Christmas eve, and you and Bucky were sprinting down the snow covered empty highways of the east coast, dead set on making it home in time. He wasn't that eager to get back and tried to get you to rent a hotel room and spend the night alone, but you weren't having it. He huffed and puffed about not giving a shit about Christmas, but it was the first one he could celebrate with people that loved him, in over 70 years. With every motel that you passed, he'd turn and look at you from the passenger seat, begging you to stop. You didn't even consider it. You wanted him to have the full Christmas experience. A storm was brewing and you were whiteknuckling the steering wheel, fighting back the urge to yawn for the 3rd time in the last 10 minutes. After driving for 7 hours straight, you were close to passing out, but nowhere near ready to give up. "Pull over, love" he smiled, grabbing your thigh, "Let me drive. I'll wake you up when we arrive"

And of course Bucky refused to decorate. You spent the better half of the day rummaging through boxes and looking up diy tutorials on the Internet, doing your absolute best to make your bedroom as cozy and Christmasy as possible. Candles were scattered all over the furniture, their soft light and delicate cinnamon scent filling up the room, a small Santa Claus figurine was sitting neatly by the window, garlands dripped from every corner and your Christmas playlist was on shuffle for probably the 4th time that day. As you kept busy, lowkey exasperated whenever one ornament didn't fit in as planned, Bucky laid on the bed, making nasty comments with every chance he got. He complained about the music, said the room was too hot, that the candles made his nose feel funny and not for a second did he stop begging you to drop the fucking decorating and join him in bed. You didn't wanna hear it. You kept going, bringing in box after box of ornaments, each one making Bucky more and more frustrated.

"Buck!" you whined, turning around in your hands a little remote controlled reindeer. "His leg is stuck... he keeps falling"

"Throw it into the trash" he scoffed, plopping down on his back and hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.

Of course you didn't listen to him. "No..." you mumbled, more to yourself. You sounded like a child, but you didn't care. Instead, you just sat down on the edge of the bed, all your attention focused on the broken toy in your hands, "I'll fix it somehow"

"Just throw the goddamned thing away, Y/n" he groaned, "Only on my nightstand there are other 3. We got enough"

You just shook your head, focused on getting the reindeer to walk again. It was no use. You got no utensils and your nails were threatening to break as you kept trying to open up his battery container. 5 minutes of painful silence followed, ending with you finally giving up, "I'll just put something under his leg and use it as a decoration" you whimpered, legitimately heartbroken over the toy.

"Fuck, just come here. Give it to me. I'll fix the damn thing for you"

Your heart swelled up, "Really?"

"Yeah..." Bucky sighed, grabbing a screwdriver out of his nightstand and picking up the toy. "Master assassin and I'm fixing toys" he mumbled under his breath and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheek.

Your version of paradise started just when you arrived at the tower on Christmas Eve. Bucky did as promised and then offered you a weak smile, full of warmth as he helped you out of the car when he parked in front of the Tower. You were beaming with excitement for the days that were to come. When the next morning arrived, you were sipping your coffee on the balcony, waiting for everyone to wake up so that you could all start unwrapping the presents. When the door opened you didn't expect Bucky to come out, as he never - ever, failed to sleep until noon, if given the chance. But there he was, wrapped in one of your comfy blankets, padding over to you with a coffee mug in his hand. When he reached you, he opened his arms and welcomed you against his chest, closing his hold around your body and engulfing you in the warmth of the blanket. It didn't take long until you noticed the little paper bag lodged under the elastic of his sweats, and when you asked about it, he cursed himself for ruining the surprise. He handed you the bag, and urged you to open it, insisting that it wasn't your present. When you did, your eyes landed on a knitted bunny clutching a heart to its chest. "An old lady was selling these a few weeks ago at a boutique I saw while waiting for you to meet me. I know you love to call me Bucky Bunny because you know how much I hate it. I forgot about it and came across it this morning at the bottom of my bag while searching for my charger. Now I think its stupid, a dumb rabbit and his eyes are a little bit fucked up, but he's cute and it reminded me of you, so here you go"

As much love as some of you had for the holiday, it still wasn't enough to convince the whole group to actually watch a Christmas movie. So, in true avenger spirit, you all decided to watch Terminator. After finishing dinner, you all scattered around the Tower. Some people left to change in more comfortable clothes, some helped clean up the kitchen, and some, like Bucky and Thor, remained in the living room, plopped in the middle of the couch, fangirling over Arnold Schwarzenegger's acting and the great sense of humour of the 90s. Eventually everyone gathered around them, you and Wanda being the last ones to show up. She cuddled against Vision's side, but Bucky was lodged in between Thor and Steve, and there was no way you'd ever ask any of them to move. Seeing you eye an open spot, Bucky waved you over as he stood up. "Here, take my seat". You wanted to object but he didn't want to hear it. Eventually, you sat down, and so did he, on the floor, right in front of you. Nonchalantly, Bucky pulled your legs apart and settled between them, with his back against the couch. He gathered your Christmas themed sock clad feet into his lap and rested his head against your knee as the movie began.

And like any other Christmas dinner, of course yours wasn't an exception. Natasha's recipe for apple pie was by definition the best that ever blessed the earth and none of the attendees was any stranger to that. Considering how many of you there were, as you made a point of spending the end of the year together, 2 batches had to be made. It was hectic, everyone fuzzing around the Tower, preparations on tow the whole day. And of course there would be repercussions for the chaotic atmosphere, but you'd only find out about them later. After burning through the first meal courses of the evening, it was finally time for her sweet delicacy to grace the table. Natasha neatly placed the two pies on either end of the table, proudly announcing you could all dig in. Bucky was seated to your right, and he unlike you, managed to grab a piece of pie from the first batch. You didn't think too much of it, until you started eating yours, only to realise the bottom was burned. Despite all of you trying to assure Natasha that it was not her fault and that she shouldn't beat herself up about it, she promised she'd make another one tomorrow. The night carried on as planned, but no matter how much you tried to push away the thought, you couldn't help but feel bitter about missing out on the good pie. Just when you were about to come to your senses and realise what a dumb reason for you to get upset that was, Bucky sent you text, asking you to come to the bedroom. Curious as to what this could have been about, you hurried upstairs and burst into the room, nearly crashing into Bucky's chest. He slammed the door behind you and handed you his plate - his slice of pie only halfway eaten. "I saved you a piece. These are jackals, I had to hide it. Dig in before anyone comes!"

On December 27th the buzz was starting to die down. When you put up the lights in your bedroom, Bucky said they could stay on for two days and two days only, and you reluctantly agreed to make a compromise. Just this time. The time to turn them off came last night, and since he offered to let them on until the morning, you felt like an unreasonable little shit if you were to ask him to turn them on again. It was about 7pm and you were two seasons deep in The X Files, and Wanda asked for your help. Bucky pulled out his phone and assured you he wouldn't watch ahead until you got back. It took you about 30 to help your friend with her problem, and when you returned to your room, confusion washed over you. The Christmas lights were on and Bucky was nowhere to be seen. "Fuck" he grunted.

You turned around to see him behind you, standing in the doorway, two cocoa mugs in his hands, "I made these cause I know you like them. And I wanted to surprise you with the lights but vision is a dumbass and forgot to text me and tell me when you were almost done"

"So she didn't actually need help folding the bed sheets?" you laughed, endeared by his antics.

"Of course she didn't" Bucky shook his head, handing you one of the mugs, "She's not an imbecile"

"Oh my god" you giggled in disbelief as you sat down on the bed.

"I'll squirt shit nuggets out of my ass for two days, so please tell me at least I got the recipe right"

He was so adorable, anxiously waiting for you to taste the cocoa he just made. "It's so good!" you rolled your eyes in pleasure, taking another sip, "Thank you, you're too sweet, Buck"

"Yeah, I know-" he chuckled, grabbing the mug from your palm and placing it on the nightstand. "I got one more present for you. Close your eyes and hold out your hands"

"No, Buck-" you whined, "I didn't get you anything else-"

He dismissed your words in an instant and kissed your lips, before guiding your hands up. You opened them up and closed your eyes, curious about what he could have gotten you. First, you heard him shuffle around the bed, and then you felt something rather itchy touch your palms. You nearly burst into laughter when you realised it was his chin.

"Ok, open your eyes"

And as you did so, your eyes landed on Bucky's face, as he had placed his head on your hands. He was wearing a tiara with reindeer ears, and you couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"You're my present?" you beamed, throwing yourself against his chest.

"My face is the present-" he corrected you. "Guess what it does. Take your leggings off and you'll find out"

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan fluff

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

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only the black rose (chapter 8)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: big nsfw warning, drinking, jimmy being himself, fluff

words: 3.6k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: so. layla’s a freak in the... well... not necessarily the sheets, i guess? more stressy hands because they're my weakness, and just... please savour the last bit of happiness you get here. that is all. (two more chappies to go!!!) hope you enjoy :) feedback as always is so very welcome!

masterlist

playlist

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

———

As she’s checking over the stage, ensuring the lights and speakers are set to do their job, Layla’s thoughts roam. After the chaos at the hotel pool, while everyone was asleep, Layla had been anything but. Her tossing and turning had disturbed Jimmy, who had pulled her further into his arms with a tired grunt. She lay there for another hour, her conversation with Jonesy running through her mind over and over. It was obvious she’d have to go back to her own time, and she missed her friends. She missed her mom. She missed everything.

Layla couldn't help, though, but think that maybe she didn’t want to leave.

She had made friends that meant the world to her, and… she’d found Jimmy. The guitarist had changed her life, and had shown her what it meant to love. She’s falling for him, and it’s not long before she hits the ground. It’ll be worth it, she thinks, for someone like him. Jimmy Page is a rare gem, precious, and she knows that she would spend her life trying to find her way back to him.

A throat clears from behind her, and, looking over her shoulder, Layla spots Peter Grant standing a few feet away. Soft smile resting upon his lips, he steps closer, placing a large hand on Layla’s shoulder.

“Layla, I trust everything’s going well?”

“Yep! Lights and sound are looking good, and the stage is set up. Anything else you need me to do?”

“No, this is perfect, dear,” Peter shakes his head, smile morphing into a smirk as he continues. “Though, you’ve been requested elsewhere. Follow me, Layla.” Leading her through the venue, Peter stops in front of a closed door, a laminated sign next to it reading, “Dressing Room: Led Zeppelin”. Turning to Layla, he holds out an arm, beckoning her to take it.

“Shall we?”

“We shall, Peter.”

Arm in arm, they walk into the room. Robert, lying elegantly across the comfortable couch pressed against the wall, has his eyes closed. He hasn’t thrown up yet, but his voice is hoarse, and he has a terrible cough. Knowing these boys as well as she does, Layla suspects that nothing will bring them down. The show must go on, after all. Bonzo is next to him, Robert’s feet in his lap. The drummer speaks quietly to the sick man, who answers in the voice of a 20-year smoker. Jonesy speaks in hushed tones to Jimmy, eyebrows pinched in worry. Jimmy, Layla realizes, has his finger in a bowl of what looks to be ice water, if the cubes of ice scattered across the table are anything to go by. From the doorway, Layla can’t hear what’s being said, but by the downwards tilt of Jonesy’s lips, she can assume Jimmy’s stubbornness is on full display again. Her entrance with Peter hadn’t been noticed, until Robert’s eyes open to slits and he sits up, a smile breaking out on his face.

“Peter! Ah, look, if it isn’t my favourite little dove…”

“Hey, Robert. How are you feeling?”

“Better, better,” Robert smiles, and stands up to pull Layla into a hug, hands splayed across her back. “All thanks to you, Layla. Seriously, thank you for taking care of me.”

Layla grins in response, waving at Bonzo as she passes. He lifts up a hand, as if to splash the woman, and her face lights up, a giggle flying out past her lips. Layla walks over to Jonesy, and he gives her an uncertain look, beckoning her closer. Leaning close, he whispers into the woman’s ear, a worried glance at the guitarist beside him following.

“He was in a lot of pain, even with the meds, so he, uh… found a bottle of Jack’s and… Layla, he won’t listen.”

As if on cue, Jimmy takes a pull from the large bottle of whiskey that rested next to him on the table. Layla hadn’t noticed it, walking in, but it stuck out like a sore thumb now.

“Hey, petal,” Jimmy slurs slightly, bottle in hand as he sends the woman a lazy smile. Injured finger in plain view now, Layla can see how the nail is completely black, the skin around it still dyed purple from the force applied to it. Layla shakes her head, eyes downcast, as she walks closer to Jimmy. She grasps the bottle of alcohol in his hand, replacing it with her own, a warm palm meeting his.

“Jimmy… you can’t just…” Layla drifts off, not wanting to argue with him this close to showtime. They can always talk about this later, after all. Jimmy, noticing her internal battle even through his alcohol-fueled haze, pulls her into his lap. Jonesy, confident that Jimmy is in good hands, nods at Layla before giving the couple a moment to themselves. Jimmy brings a finger to the apple of Layla’s cheek, stroking it almost hesitantly, as though she would break under a stronger touch. Layla’s eyes, once meeting his, drift to his plump, pink lips. They shine in the artificial light, as he swipes his tongue across to wet them.

“Layla,” Jimmy starts, snapping her out of her trance. Her eyes meet his, and he smirks at her dilated pupils. She knew he had caught her staring, she wasn’t exactly subtle about it. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“What is the meaning of life? Please, answer seriously. This is important.”

“Jimmy, I didn’t peg you as someone who indulges in drunk philosophical discussions.”

Jimmy huffs a sigh, and leans in closer, pressing a quick kiss against her lips. Pulling back, he looks at their joined hands, before meeting her eye once more.

“Humour me.”

“Well—”

Before she could answer, Peter floats back into the room, telling the boys to follow him backstage. It’s showtime, and Layla doesn’t want her guitarist to leave yet. Jimmy looks at her expectantly, green eyes searching her face as though the answer to his question was written in the curve of her lips.

“It’s okay, Jimmy,” she says, squeezing the hand in hers, passing courage from one to the other. “We can continue this after the show.”

Jimmy nods, and releases her hand slowly, not wanting to break the contact. Layla hops out of his lap, and helps him stand. Her lips meet his in a soft kiss, as she presses their foreheads together. Their eyelashes flutter against each other, and the scent of citrus, tobacco and pine was ever-present, invading all of Layla’s senses. Jimmy pulls away first, and walks to the door, glancing back at her over his shoulder. She smiles at him, adrift in the empty dressing room, and he smiles back, walking out the door.

“Good luck, angel.” Layla whispers, voice swallowed up by the silence of the deserted dressing room.

Making her way to the familiar lip of the backstage area, Layla’s hands wring together, her lips bitten red. Robert hadn’t sounded well at all earlier, and Jimmy… It seemed like he was deteriorating right before her eyes. The mixture of codeine and Jack Daniels killed the pain, sure, but he was no longer the sharp, pragmatic man she was falling for. He was too caught up in the burn of the drink down his throat, a way to forget the agony rushing through his hand like a current. Bringing her attention back to the stage, she spots the boys, who share a loaded glance. Robert takes a deep breath, and launches right in. ‘Rock and Roll’ passes without a hitch, save for some voice cracks. If anything though, they add to the authentic performance, the crowd electric as usual. ‘Sick Again’ stuns, followed by ‘Over the Hills and Far Away’, and all is well, until ‘How Many More Times’ rolls around.

It was small. Insignificant, really. If Layla hadn’t been searching Jimmy’s face, entranced by the way his brow furrowed as he got lost in the music, she wouldn't have noticed. Breaking apart from the rest of the band to complete a complicated lick, Jimmy’s fingers trip up on the fretboard. To the audience, the only consequence is a slight dead note in the midst of heavenly riffs. Gazing over at Jimmy, however, Layla could see the discomfort in the downwards tilt of his lips, and the pain stiffening his shoulders. She could see the anger flaming in his dark eyes. Jimmy recovers well, delivering attack after attack, though his solos, from that point on, tended to go a little off-track. Whether from nerves or self-doubt, Layla didn't know. But she knows him. She knows the guitarist will let it cloud the entire night. She knows he’s gonna pick the show apart, minute after exhilarating minute, looking for the smallest flaw. Layla knows that she’ll be there for him through it all.

No matter what.

----------

With a hoarse thank you and a flourish directed at the audience, Robert finally leads the band off-stage to voltaic cheers. Robert, ecstatic as ever during the concert, seems to deflate the second he gets off. With a nod and a soft smile at Layla, he disappears into the depths of the backstage area. Jonesy and Bonzo pass by with tight-lipped smiles, clapping her on the shoulder as they follow Robert. Jimmy is the last to appear, and the reason for the rhythm section’s warning glances becomes apparent immediately.

Jimmy scowls as he approaches, eyes glassy, as though she were looking into a clear stream. Layla can see herself reflected in them; can see the worry reflected in her own gaze. Slipping a hand around his bicep, she steers Jimmy into a corner. He refuses to look at her, even as her hand tilts his face upwards softly.

“Jimmy, love, that was—”

“Shit.”

“No, not at all,” Layla steps closer, a hand finding the familiar spot on his cheek. “It was a great show. You saw the audience, Jim. They loved you guys!”

“It was shit, and everyone knows it. If I could just—”

“Jimmy, come on…”

“—be good enough, this would have gone differently.”

Layla’s breath catches, eyes as wide as saucers as she steps closer to the guitarist, who turns away. His gaze at the floor never wavers as he paces, muttering to himself.

“Jimmy, look at me,” Layla stops him in his tracks with a hand at his back. His shoulders heave with deep breaths as he tries to calm himself down. “You played a good gig. It doesn’t matter if you missed a note or two. You came to play a great show, and you did.”

“But it isn't enough. These people came here for an extraordinary show and we couldn't deliver. I couldn't deliver, and—”

“Hey—”

“—if my finger wasn’t broken, we would have been as good as we’ve always been. This is my fault.”

“Jimmy, this isn’t on you. You did nothing wrong.”

Jimmy’s hands fly up to land in his hair, as he pulls at it almost unconsciously. Layla grips his cheek lightly, as the other hand comes to rest at a thin wrist, pulling it away from the dark locks it had latched onto. Jimmy averts his eyes from the woman’s earnest gaze and turns his back once more, treading a hole in the wooden floor of the backstage area. Layla’s palm rubs soft circles into the fabric of his cardigan, patches of whispering dandelions catching on her fingers. From her place behind him, she can see the way he’s beating a fist into the palm of his injured hand repeatedly, perhaps a way to atone for a mistake that hasn’t been committed.

“I fucked up this tour. It’s my fault. I can’t do everything I know I can do, and that’s on me. I just…”

“Jimmy…”

“I can’t do this anymore!”

Layla shrinks back slightly at the exclamation form the man, who is shaking like a leaf. His head drops, long hair hiding his face once again. Recovering quickly, she spins him around carefully to face her. Hands cupping his cheeks, she presses her lips to his. His eyes flutter closed and he immediately reciprocates, a hand pressed to Layla's hips; his new favourite spot for them. Jimmy lets out a whine of pleasure, and Layla pulls away, looking into his tired eyes.

“Jimmy, listen to me. You did play well. I am so, so proud of you. Okay?”

“...Okay. I’ll… work on trying to believe you.”

“That’s all I can ask for.”

If Layla sees the sparkle and shine of tears on the man’s cheeks, she doesn't mention it as she grabs his hand, leading him to an empty room, locking the door immediately.

Finally away from prying eyes, Layla unfurls the guitarist’s hands from their clenched position, bringing the injured one up near her mouth. Gazing up at him, eyes shining in the dim light of the room, she presses a chaste kiss to each finger, slowing as she reaches the one painted shades of purple and black and blue. Jimmy nods, exhale shaky, and she presses the softest of kisses to the tip, hoping to cause pleasure rather than pain.

Jimmy’s hands slide lower from their place on her hips to cup her bum lightly, in case she was uncomfortable and wanted to slip out of his grasp. Her lips find his again as he pushes her against the large table in the middle of the room. Layla lets out a whimper, swallowed by the mouth against hers, as Jimmy’s tongue laps at her bottom lip, asking for entrance. He’s always been soft with her, but this new side of the dark-haired guitarist excited her. The kiss was over as soon as it began, Jimmy pulling away to stare at her, close enough still that their noses touched.

“Petal, I… We were gonna take it slow, and we will, but if you're ready…”

“I’m ready.”

Jimmy smiles, crashing his lips against her quickly, passionately. Pulling back once more, Jimmy smirks as Layla chases the high the feel of his lips gave her. Pressing into his space again, she frowns, which makes Jimmy chuckle. Layla’s hand reaches up, twisting in his hair.

“Angel,” Layla starts, a light tug on a mussed ebony ringlet following the nickname. His mossy eyes were dark with desire, and he placed his lips on her neck, kissing a trail down her jaw, stopping at her collarbone. Slipping the sweat-soaked cardigan off his shoulders, she traces a line down his cheek, eyes glued to his blush-red lips. “Can you lie down on the table for me? Please do try not to break any other body parts.”

“Haven’t I told you I’m afraid of heights?” Jimmy laughs, and with a small smile thrown over his shoulder, he hops up onto the table.

“You overlooked that, love,” Layla says, unbuttoning her blouse ever-so-slowly, surely teasing the guitarist, who leans back on his elbows. His eyes follow her every move as she takes off the rest of her clothing. “Now, I feel like you might have too many clothes on, Jim. We need to be even, after all.”

Slipping his pants and underwear off in record time, he reclines back, already hard. Fully exposed now, Layla climbs up onto the table as well, straddling the man’s lap, before sinking herself onto him. A calloused hand lands on her hips, helping her find the perfect position, until a soft groan rang through the near-empty room. Jimmy’s hands move up to her breasts, toying with the woman’s nipples, much to her delight. Layla grabs onto his chest for support, craning her head back in pure euphoria at the sensation, the hollow of her neck exposed as Jimmy raises up to nip at it. Grinding her hips to the rhythm of the man’s soft groans, she trails hickies up his chest and neck.

“Something to remember me by.” she says, looking at him with dark eyes, a haze of lust filling them. Hand gripping Layla’s ass tightly, he brings her ever-closer, a mumbled “fuck” leaving the woman’s kiss-bitten lips. The guitarist’s face is creased with absolute exhilaration, as he rocks back and forth to the movement of Layla’s body on his. The couple didn’t know where one ended and the other began. Ecstasy fills the room, and whispers of praise flow like music from lips bruised and bitten.

“You did so well today, angel. You’re incredible.”

Jimmy raises up once more to capture her lips in a bruising kiss, a hand raking through the woman’s hair roughly, landing on her throat. Jimmy squeezes it lightly, warningly, and presses his lips to Layla’s once more, swallowing the shriek of pleasure she gasps out.

“You liked that, petal?” Jimmy’s hoarse voice reaches Layla’s ears almost belatedly, too caught up in the pleasure of his hands on her, though she nods as if her life depended on it. Panting hard now, Layla quickens her pace, noises of pleasure growing louder. With the friction of his hand on her, roaming everywhere it could reach, Layla felt divine; heavenly in this embrace. Leaning down for a heavy, passionate kiss, Jimmy’s hand finds her hair again, and he tugs on it hard. The pain elicits a moan from Layla, as she reaches her peak.

With a stuttered breath, Jimmy releases as well, gasps leaving his lips as he looks at Layla reverently. The wetness from her core rushes over him as she lays back down beside him, spent. Back arching as she pants, her head turns to face him, faces painted with bliss.

In a post-coitus haze, Jimmy has his arms wrapped securely around Layla’s shoulders, as her head rests on his chest. Layla giggles tiredly, as her breaths ruffle the dark hair on Jimmy’s chest. Looking up at him, she’s pleased to see him looking right back at her.

“That certainly cheered you up, didn’t it?”

“You’re the best at cheering me up after all. This, of course, was just a bonus.” Jimmy noses at her messy hair, smelling a combination of fresh linen, sweat and her shampoo; hints of strawberry and mango tickling his nose.

“We should get up, the boys are probably looking for us,” Layla says, dragging light fingers across his stomach, watching goosebumps appear on the pale skin. Whether it’s from the sensation or the chill of the table, Layla didn't know, but she’s comfortable in his embrace, in danger of drifting off.

“What if we just… stayed here forever. They can find another guitarist.”

“You’re pretty irreplaceable, Page,” Layla whispers, reaching up to press her lips to his jaw. “I mean, who would the boys chaperone if you were gone?”

“Chaperone? I’m not that bad. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“Right, so Robert was lying about the time you refused to sleep for 5 days out of pure adrenaline? New York, 1973, I believe it was?”

“...”

“That’s what I thought. We need to have a serious talk about your habits, Jimmy.”

With a chuckle from the guitarist, the two lapse into a comfortable silence, as Jimmy presses a kiss to the top of Layla’s head, nuzzling it with his cheek.

“Hey,” Layla shifts to look up at him, eyes filled with adoration. She felt as though she were looking at a star. Beautiful and shining, but out of reach, as much as she wished for the opposite. She knew this couldn’t last, though she’d savour every last minute of it that she could. “I need to… tell you something.”

“What’s wrong, Layla?”

“Nothing’s wrong, really. It’s… kind of the opposite, actually.”

Jimmy tilts his head in confusion, turning on his side to face her. He looked like a puppy, hair wild about his head, and Layla couldn’t help but giggle at the sight.

“S-So,” Layla shifts, nervous all of a sudden. Jimmy grips her hand in his, and nods when their eyes finally meet. “Do you remember what you asked me earlier? About the… meaning of life. You might not remember, you were a little out of it, and—”

“I remember. You’re rambling, petal. What’s going on?”

“Well, it’s… it’s love. The meaning of life is… love. Jimmy, I…um…”

“What is it? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I’m… I guess... What I’m trying to say is,” Layla says, taking a deep breath as she looks into the eyes that captivate her, and make her smile, and set her on fire. “I’m falling in love with you, and I just… Yeah.”

Jimmy grins brightly, surging forward to capture her lips in a kiss bursting with joy. He laughs into it, as their noses brush together, his finger tracing nonsensical designs across her side.

“Very eloquently put, Porter.”

“Oh my God, I just confessed that I’m falling for you, and you focus on—”

“I’m falling in love with you too. I thought that may have been obvious, considering the state of this poor table.”

“W-Well,” Layla stutters, blushing crimson as Jimmy’s plush lips tilt up in a picture-perfect smirk. “Put your clothes on, Page. The boys are probably waiting for us.”

Jimmy laughs, but redresses in his stage clothes, turning to stare at Layla as she slips her jeans back on. Buttoning up her shirt and flattening her hair, which frizzed up like a halo around her flushed face, she gazes over at Jimmy. Crowding into his space, she put a hand to the back of his neck, up on her tiptoes to peck at his lips once more. He slips a hand to her cheek, and deepens the kiss. Pulling away to glimpse the golden smile that rests on Layla’s lips, he feels like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. Arm in arm, they walk out of the room, twin smiles nearly splitting their faces. Jimmy glances over at Layla, and can’t believe just how lucky he is.

Screw falling in love, he thinks.

This is love, and he knows it for sure, now.

------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso (let me know if you want to be added!)

#only the black rose #jimmy page #led zeppelin #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page x oc #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years

Text

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 20

Word Count: 3,745

POV: Sid’s

Warngings: Language, Smut, NSFW but also kind of fluffy

Notes: It’s late, so no one will probably read this...haha But I’m putting it out there anyhow, because I need to hold myself accountable and I said I would post it after the Stars game. (Sidenote: I’m still upset about that loss) Anyhow, this is basically all smut. I was just in that kind of mood with Sid this week what can I say. As always love your feedback and Happy Reading!

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

Paris was everything you'd ever dreamed it would be and so much more now that you'd finally told (Y/N) that you loved her. Being there with her was like living out a fantasy vacation. The two of you spent the day soaking in the French culture. Holding hands as you went from exhibit to exhibit in the Louvre was everything, as (Y/N) shared your love of history. You weren't sure who was pulling who, into the next room to see each display. One of the most magical moments had to be when you were standing atop the Eiffel Tower, holding her in your arms and kissing her senseless. Though the one that stood out the most to you was standing inside Notre Dame Cathedral. Maybe it was the lighting at the moment, or the beautiful white summer sundress (Y/N) had on but you were overwhelmed with thoughts of her walking down the aisle towards you. Never in your life had you thought about marriage like you did right at that moment. You could picture her in this beautiful gown carrying a bouquet of roses as she stood amongst all your family and friends. Suddenly, you wanted to make this dream a reality, but you'd only declared your love for her a few short days ago. This was going from point A to Z in like sixty-second flat, but if there was one thing that you knew, it was how to work hard and see things come to fruition, and that started by making sure this was the best vacation that (Y/N) ever had.

The time in France had been jammed packed, for it seemed you two were always on the go. Though you did enjoy the long nights at the hotel where you spent making love to (Y/N) every and any chance you could get. She'd even been adventurous enough to have sex out on the balcony one night. It wasn't something that you'd normally do, but there was just something about this woman that had you wanting her anywhere and everywhere. Which neither one of you seemed to mind.

Thankfully, you'd booked a resort in the quiet town of Estepona, Spain, instead of Ibiza or Barcelona like you'd originally planned. The beaches were beautiful there and you enjoyed seeing (Y/N) just lounging on the chaise in her bikini. "Want to hit the water?" You asked her after closing the book you'd been reading for the last hour.

"Sure," she agreed and you both headed into the warm ocean. The waves caught you both up, as you frolicked in the sand and surf, both of you giggling. Every now and then a wave would crash along the shore almost knocking you both to the ground until you were finally able to drift beyond their breaking point. "This place is truly amazing Sid," (Y/N) told you as you swam closer to her, so you could loop your arms around her.

"You're amazing," you said nibbling on her ear which was only slightly salty from the water.

"Stop, you're making me blush."

"I like it when you do." Your hands roamed down her back to her ass, where you slid your fingers underneath her bikini bottoms before kissing her soundly on the lips.

"What are you doing?" She giggled as you attempted to pull those same bottoms to the side.

"I can't help it, you look so fucking sexy in this suit. I just have to…" you followed your words up by pressing a finger between her folds.

"Sid," she half moaned, half chided you. "Someone might see."

"Babe, look around. This beach is pretty private, for one thing, and for another, there are a couple women running around half nude." Europeans were much more liberal when it came to their sexuality then both Americans and Canadians, and you were one who wouldn't mind (Y/N) running around topless. Well, you might if you weren't by her side. "No one is going to pay any attention to us."

"But what if you're recognized or something?" You'd been lucky so far and only had a couple people come up to you in France and ask for autographs, hopefully, that streak would continue over the next week.

"No one even knows that I'm doing anything to you. Unless you decide to scream out my name. Which I'm not opposed to." (Y/N) shook her head at you, so to emphasize your point; you slid your finger deep inside her. She bit her lip to suppress the moan she so wanted to release. You continued to toy with her until she snuck her hand in your swim trunks and started to stroke your cock. "Oh, I see how it is."

"What? Two can play this game, Mr. Crosby." It was deliciously naughty to be doing this out in public with (Y/N).

"Mr. Crosby is it? I don't think that's what you called me last night." Her palm slid down your length then back up, twisting as she went and you had to grit your teeth together from the pleasurable sensations she was creating.

"Mmm, no I don't think it was." She pressed her cheek to yours, as she sucked on your earlobe. "Would you prefer Captain, or maybe Daddy, or…" She didn't finish that sentence as your thumb pressed down on her clit. Her head sank down to the crook of your neck and you thought she was going to bite you as she held back a groan. Your fingers worked faster and so did her hand, and soon she wasn't the only one stifling her moans. You were almost regretting this decision to have a little fun with her in the ocean, but then she was cuming and you were too and as your hips thrust into her hand you knew this would be one vacation memory neither of you would ever forget. "Fuck baby, that felt so good."

"More refreshing than the ocean?" She said with a little wink.

"Definitely," you kissed her then, pouring all the love you had for her into it. (Y/N) was truly one of a kind and you thanked your lucky stars, and the Fleury's, for bringing her into your life. She was exactly what you needed.

Over the next couple of days, you spent time at the beach as well as in Estepona. You took (Y/N) on a romantic carriage ride through the city streets one night, then ended up back at the hotel where you made love for hours. It was the following day that you noticed her stretching her neck more. "Babe, what's going on?"

"My neck's a little sore is all. I don't think it liked that one position you put me in last night," she said teasingly.

"Here let me massage it for you."

"Wait let me write this down because you never offer massages. It's always me giving them to you."

"That's because you're really good at them." You gave her a little wink then let your fingers rub her shoulder. "You're really knotted up."

"Yeah, but it'll work itself out eventually." She sighed contently as you worked on her muscles.

"We should get one of those couple's massages." You told her, thinking that it would be a nice way for both of you to relax. "I saw them mentioned in the brochure."

"You'd really be into that?" (Y/N) asked.

"I mean ya, if it means I get to lay next to you half-naked; I'm always in."

(Y/N) laughed before reminding you, "you know there's no 'happy ending' during these things. Well, that is unless it's different over here."

"The only happy ending I want is with your babe." You told her as you let your arms slide around her waist. "So what do you say? Should I book it?"

"I think you're trying to get out of giving me a massage once again, but I'm game. Make the call." You dropped a kiss to her neck before heading over and grabbing the phone. (Y/N) scooted into the bedroom to change into her swimsuit as the two of you had planned on going to the beach. After a call to the spa, they told you they would have everything set up in your room in an hour. You'd ask to have it there for privacy's sake and they were more than happy to accommodate you. "Babe, we've got an hour, then we've got to be back."

"Wow, you work fast," she said as she sauntered back into the living room area clad in a white bikini that had you rethinking going to the beach as well as getting those massages.

You grabbed at her waist and pulled her in close. "I'd rather work on you."

"Slow down there hot stuff. You are not getting me all….sexed up and then having someone else rubbing their hands all over me in an hour. Maybe after that hour."

"Sexed up?" You cocked your head in inquiry.

"You know what I mean." Her arms wrapped around your neck then. "You did it in the ocean the other day. We are PG until after these massages." She kissed you quickly, then slipped out of your arms before you knew what was happening. "Now are we going to the beach?" When you just stuck your lip out pouting, she added. "I'll let you put sunscreen on me."

It wasn't exactly what you were looking for but you'd take her up on it and see if you could sneak in a few kisses and feels here and there. "Deal." (Y/N) evaded all your attempts at seduction in your hour at the beach, which only had you frustrated and you hoped that you weren't sporting wood as you made your way back to your hotel room for your massage. It would be sort of awkward, but then again maybe that's what couple's massages were supposed to lead to. The room was draped in darkness as you made your way inside. Furniture had been cleared so that two tables could be set up. Rose petals were scattered all over the room with soft candlelight glowing and the relaxing sounds of the ocean playing in the background. It really was quite romantic and you found yourself pulling (Y/N) closer to your side as the masseurs introduced themselves. There was a female and a male, and you kind of wonder who would be doing who, for the guy was kind of muscular and handsome and you weren't sure you wanted him to be touching your girlfriend, especially the way he seemed to be eyeing her in her bikini.

After introductions were made, they then had you lay on top of the massage tables face up. Only a couple feet separated the distance between the two of you, so you reached out and grabbed (Y/N)'s hand, as the therapists began to work. Thankfully, the male masseur worked on you instead of (Y/N). You didn't realize what a jealous streak you had until the thought of some other guy touching her ran through your mind. "Feel free to talk to each other," the masseuse said as she kneaded (Y/N)'s shoulders.

It seemed kind of awkward to carry on an intimate conversation in front of strangers, so you stuck to just keeping things basic. "So this is nice, huh babe?" You threw in the word babe for the male therapist knowledge, letting him know that (Y/N) was indeed taken, not that he shouldn't know that given that this was a couple's thing.

"It really is. This whole vacation has been magical." She gave your hand a little squeeze. "I don't know how you want me to go back to real life after this."

"Well, we don't have to just yet. We still have a couple weeks in Cole Harbour, before heading back to Pittsburgh." You had your two days with the Stanley Cup coming up and while that would entail a little bit of work, as there was a parade planned as well as other things; there was also a big celebration that (Y/N) and your mom had been working on.

"That's true, though I'll be heading back before you."

This was news to you and had you almost rolling on your side so that you could face her. "What do you mean?"

"You know I have to be back on the twentieth to get things ready for training camp."

"Yeah, I'm going with you then." Had you forgotten to tell her that?

"Um…" she hesitated, weighing her words in front of the strangers currently massaging you. "You'll be mid training with Nate, so that's probably not going to work."

"I'll just train in Pittsburgh."

She turned her head completely so that she could look you in the eye. "We can discuss it later." The look on her face told you that there would be no arguing the point and you figured it was best to have this conversation when she was in a better mood. The two of you fell into a silence as what was supposed to be a romantic time to bring you both together now had this icy chill to it. The masseurs asked you to flip over and now you couldn't really even look at your girlfriend to gauge her mood. Instead, you started to work on a plan that would hopefully turn this time around. It was about fifteen minutes into your back rub that you sprung up from the table with an idea. You silenced the massage therapists with a finger, then wandered over by the phone grabbing the pen and paper and asking if it was possible for the two of them to leave you alone, but not let (Y/N) know. The masseur nodded his agreement a silent look passing between him and the masseuse working on (Y/N).

In a soft voice, (Y/N)'s massage therapist leaned down to her and said. "We're going to switch a moment. There's a knot that I just can't work out." (Y/N) hummed out her agreement, not moving and then the two quietly slipped out the door. You went to work, kneading the muscles of her back, hoping she wouldn't notice it was you. Years of getting massage work done on your body had taught you a thing or two, though you had to admit you loved when (Y/N) gave them to you more, hopefully, you giving her this one in return would win you some brownie points after your earlier discussion. You toiled over her upper body for quite some time before moving down to her legs. Folding the sheet up to reveal her lower half, you slathered more oil on your hands and let them glide up and down her calves working your way up her thighs. When her legs drifted slightly apart you couldn't help your hands as they traveled to her inner thighs. Each pass had you inching closer and closer to her core. All you would have to do is shift her bikini bottoms to the side, that or undo the strings, and she would be exposed to you. Instead, though, you moved your hands higher to ass, the sheet sneaking higher up.

By now you did have to wonder why she was letting some strange man touch her ass like this, but you still kept caress her globes, until temptation got the better of you, and you tugged at the strings. On your next pass of her bottom, you flopped the material down between her legs. This time letting your fingers slip between her folds. Fuck she was wet and now you didn't know if you were pissed that another man was turning her on or if your brain was just consumed with lust for this woman, but either way, you kept fondling her. You waited for her to tell you to stop, or more like the masseur to, but she didn't instead she just moaned. You couldn't help what fell from your lips. "Babe, why are you moaning?" Hopefully, it sounded like you were on the table next to her.

"Because I always do that when you touch me like that." She giggled then and you knew she'd found you out.

"How'd you know it was me?" Your fingers slipped out of her, as you were slightly stunned.

"I'd know your calloused hands anywhere Mr. Crosby." Damn, years of hockey had made your hands rough, and not nice and smooth like someone who basically bathed them in oil all day. She flipped over to her front. "But please continue, as I have to say it was quite an enjoyable massage. Do you promise a happy ending?"

"Oh baby, do I ever." You ran both hands up her legs, then moved so you were in the middle of the table, your fingers slipping down to her pussy. Taking your thumb and index finger you rubbed her outer lips together while your other hand caressed her breasts. This time when she moaned you took comfort in the knowledge that she knew it was you who was bringing her pleasure. It was easy to slip two fingers inside her with all the oil on your hands and all of the wetness on her cunt. You pumped them in and out her, your thumb flicking across her clit as you went. She spread herself wider for you, lifting one knee so you'd have more access to her. (Y/N) looked so beautiful laying there, glistening from the oils on her body and you told yourself then, that there was no way you were not going back to Pittsburgh when she did, for you didn't think you'd be able to stand being without her even for a few short weeks. Her cries brought you back to the present, and you slid your free hand to put a little pressure on her mons.

"Sid, please…" she begged and her hips started to rise which only had you adding more pressure. You worked her little nub furiously as your fingers thrust inside her. It didn't take long until you felt her pussy walls contract on your fingers, sucking them deeper inside her as she came. A rush of wetness followed and (Y/N) called out your name as the orgasm overtook her. God, she was beautiful, her body slightly flushed from climax and a sheen of both sweat and oil on it. If it was possible your cock became even harder at the sight. You watched as this euphoric transformation came across her face and took satisfaction in knowing that it was you that could make that happen to her. Her hand grabbed your wrist and hauled you close to her, so she could clamp her mouth on yours. The kiss was full of heat and desperate, turning you on even more. "Will this hold both of us?"

"I don't see why not, and if it doesn't, I'll pay for it." You stripped out of your swim trunks in record time before climbing over the top of (Y/N), and though you were confident in your reply to her; you still moved gingerly in case the massage table didn't hold up. Thankfully, it did as she wrapped her legs around your waist. The oil on both your bodies made it a challenge for her to keep the position but she did her best as your cock slid inside her slippery cunt. (Y/N) gasped at the feel of you. Buried to the hilt inside her, you almost came right there. It was like the first time that the two of you slept together and you loved that every time with (Y/N) felt new and exciting.

"Sid," she panted out, and you gazed down into her gorgeous eyes that were shining with love. "Please move…I need you." It was all she had to say, as your mouth came down on hers stealing both hers and your breath away before you slowly pumped in and out of her. She felt amazing as always, hips thrusting to meet yours as your tongues entwined. This was exactly where you saw this romantic massage leading. Well, maybe not on the actual table but this joining of your bodies and heart. (Y/N) had swept into your life and just made everything perfect and you wondered how you'd ever lived this long without her in it.

"I love you, so much (Y/N)." You felt the raw emotion in your voice and hoped she could hear it as well. They weren't just words you were saying to her, it was how you truly felt. You would do anything for this woman, give up anything as well, though she'd never ask that and you knew it. You needed her to know this but didn't know how to say it, so you let your body do the talking for you, thrusting deep inside her.

She arched her back in pleasure, though her eyes never left yours. "I love you too, Sid," and you felt it with every move of her body and gasp of her lips. You knew she felt the same way about you; needed you as much as you needed her. The first spasm of her walls milked you inside as you noticed her climax hit her. Her legs tightened around you, as they started to shake, and then she was there, pleasure cascading over her as the orgasm struck. You locked your lips with hers as she cried out and followed her down the path of climax, spilling your seed inside her.

There were endless kisses as you both came off the high and as much as you wanted to stay inside her forever; it wasn't the most comfortable position for the two of you on the small table. So dropping one last kiss to her lips, you slid out of the haven that was her pussy, lifting her up in your arms and carrying her to the bedroom. "What about returning all that?" She questioned referencing all the massage equipment in the living room.

"They'll be well compensated for waiting until tomorrow. I have other plans for us tonight." It was that way for the rest of your vacation. You couldn't get enough of (Y/N). The public displays of affection between the two of you were ridiculous, and if your teammates had seen it they would chirp you endlessly, but you didn't care. In fact, you had a feeling it would become something that happened regularly during the season, so you prepared yourself for the ribbing you would happily take.

#Not So Dangerous Liaison Series #sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #Sidney Crosby Imagines #Sidney Crosby Smut #Pittsburgh Penguins fanfiction #Pittsburgh Penguins imagine #Pittsburgh Penguins imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl smut #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fanfiction #hockey smut

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waveypedia · 3 years

Text

they don’t know you like i do

Rymin Week Day 5: Birthdays

1 2 4 6 7

Ao3

Ryan wakes up to a sloppy cheek kiss.

“Mmmm,” he sighs, unconsciously leaning into the source. It’s something soft and warm, and unquestionably familiar and comforting even to his sleep-addled brain. For a minute he slumps drowsily against the warm lump, whatever it is, until it unfortunately moves away. What a tragedy. The universe truly is against him. Just him against the world…

A hand, gentle yet firm, shakes his shoulder. “C’mon, Ry. Time to wake up.”

“Ughhhh,” Ryan mumbles, rolling flat on his back. His eyes don’t want to open. “Not yet.”

If Ryan was more conscious, he’d register the laughter in the other’s voice. “Today’s an important day. Do you remember?”

Ryan sat up, blearily rubbing at his eyes. “Izzit a show day?”

“No, not yet.” Ryan’s eyes opened just in time to see a slightly-blurry but nonetheless beautiful Min hovering in front of his face with an excited yet bashful smile. Ryan couldn’t help a smile of his own, just looking at his handsome boyfriend. Yet all thoughts were dashed when Min leaned in for a kiss, effectively cutting off all of Ryan’s brainpower.

When Min finally pulls away, he is grinning euphorically. “Happy birthday, Ryan.”

Ryan leans into Min’s shoulder. “Happy birthday, Min.”

After a few more kisses, Ryan reluctantly slips out of the warm bed (or lack thereof) and shakes himself awake. The sun is just barely peeking over the horizon, and the interior of the van is shrouded in long shadows. Min, who has never truly taken to getting up early, is starting to droop.

Ryan wraps an arm around his boyfriend. “Not that I don’t want snuggles, Min, but I’m guessing you woke me up for a reason?”

“Oh! Right. Yes.” Min shakes himself, rubbing fatigue out of his eyes, and stands up straight. Ryan scrambles to stand as well so he doesn’t lose his grip.

Min turns and makes eye contact, smirking mischievously. “Check outside.”

“Hmm?” Ryan makes for the van’s back door, tugging a sleepy but excited Min along with him. He opens it and sees… “Wait. We’re here?”

Min grins at him. “Yeah, I did some late-night driving so we could have the whole day to ourselves.”

Ryan laughs, euphoria tinging his voice. His emotions felt uncontrollable and unstable from sleep. He was still in that half-awake state where his emotions hadn’t quite settled yet, and all he could feel was a tidal wave of happiness and love. Affection for his amazing boyfriend.

“Miiiiin,” he faux-whines, squeezing Min’s side. “But now you’re gonna be all tired! And I want to spend time together on our birthday!”

Min coughs lightly, his cheeks coated with a heavy blush. “Well- I- I didn’t drive for too long, Ryan. I’ll be fine.”

Ryan gives Min a long, measuring look, then shrugs. “If you say so. You know yourself best, and I trust you. I’ll be watching you, though, buster,” he says warningly, pointing his fingers at his eyes and then Min’s own.

Min chuckles, somewhat awkwardly. “If it gets to be too much, I’ll say something. I promise, Ryan.”

“Good.” Ryan leans against Min’s side, before changing his mind and pulling his boyfriend into a full hug. “Now let’s go celebrate our birthday, huh? We have two years to make up for!”

Min leans down to rest his chin on Ryan’s shoulder. “I am more than ready.”

They check into the hotel and unpack as quickly as possible. They’re used to getting situated quickly, (all those late nights performing made for good experience) but this time their haste is borne out of excitement instead of fatigue. Once they’re settled, they spent a little while lying on the bed, just cuddling and enjoying each other’s company.

Min lovingly brushes his fingers through Ryan’s hair. He’s done it so many times now since they first embarked on their tour, but Ryan will never get tired of it. He leans his head back into Min’s soothing touch.

He could stay like this forever, but unfortunately, that is not in store. He and Min have a few errands to run. They don’t quite feel like errands, though. Not when they’re spent in the company of each other.

They make a quick stop at the local supermarket for food and supplies. They’re nearly finished, and Min is already outside checking around for an Asian market. Ryan is about to pay and join him, but then his eyes catch on something magnificent.

“Min!! Min, come here! Come look at this!!”

“What?” Min is inside in an instant, eyes wide and hair messy. He looks slightly panicked, and he’s breathing heavier than normal. For a minute Ryan feels guilty for worrying him, but then Min relaxes at the sight of Ryan excited and unharmed. It’s all he can do to keep from bouncing on the balls of his feet - and as Min’s expression shifts from worried to curious, Ryan’s enthusiasm wins out.

“Look at this!!” Ryan gestures to a row of boxes behind him exuberantly.

Min frowns at the shelf, brow furrowed. Ryan can catalogue the moment he notices what Ryan’s trying to show him, because his eyes light up and he breaks out in a grin. “Brownie mix?! Oh, Ryan, you genius!” Min wraps him up in a hug, and Ryan grins into his chest. “We have to make this!”

“You read my mind,” Ryan says as soon as Min lets him go. He grabs a box and places it carefully in the shopping basket.

At the checkout counter, both he and Min can barely contain their excitement. They keep shooting each other mischievous, eager grins every few seconds. The cashier seems slightly curious, but evidently grows tired of them after a few minutes and rings them up with more than a few eye rolls. Once they’ve paid, they practically book it out of the shop, still giggling uncontrollably to themselves.

They can’t wait to make it back to the hotel. The rest of the shopping, usually a fun activity where they discuss all the new (and in Ryan’s case, cursed) food combinations they can try in their budget, feels much more like the chore others regularly lament it to be.

But at last, they make it back. At the sight of the hotel parking lot, they break into a run that doesn’t even stop for the stairs, laughing all the while.

The hotel, of course, has a concierge bell. On impulse, Ryan sneaks back down while the concierge is on break and snatches it, overcome with mischevious giggles like a young child.

When he presents it to Min, safely back in their rooms, he blanches. “Ryan! You can’t just do that! We could get into so much trouble!”

“Ah, I’ll return it when we're done. And I won’t get caught. Don’t worry.” Ryan waves him off, brushing past him from where they stand in front of the closed door. Even though it costs money they don’t have, they’ve sprung for a little kitchenette this time. After all, when can you treat yourself (and your amazing partner) if not on your birthday(s)?

Ryan sets Not-Kez on top of the mini-fridge, in perfect view of his and Min’s tiny cooking spot. “Just like old times, eh, Min?”

“Not in the slightest,” Min says, sounding like he’s torn between a groan and a snort.

“Yeah, I know. This dull thing could never compare to the real Kez.” Ryan brushes his fingers over the disappointingly not-sentient bell, not dissimilar to how Min comforted Kez when she was upset. “It’s not nearly snarky enough.”

That gets a real snort out of Min. “Not counting the weird gravity, giant pig-baby, sentient porcelain cow, and giant kitchen.”

“Don’t forget the post-war American cookbook,” Ryan adds. “Brownies were the only good thing they had.”

“And the only thing we care to replicate.” Min starts pulling ingredients out of their shopping bag. He places the coveted brownie mix in its place of honor next to Kez. “Hey, at least we have butter.”

Ryan laughs. “Just don’t put the butter in the microwave, and we’re good. That goes for you too,” he adds, faux-stern, wagging his finger at Not-Kez.

Unsurprisingly, Not-Kez does not respond. Just another reason why the real Kez is superior.

“This is way easier with regular-size ingredients,” Min comments.

Ryan bursts out laughing, brushing Not-Kez in his haste to keep his balance. “Really? Who would’ve known?”

Min glances back at him, rolling his eyes. “Go back to your humble brownie expert act, please.”

“I am but a simple man,” Ryan parrots dramatically, clutching at his shirt like Min had done all those months ago. “A simple brownie man.”

Min laughs. “All right, all right, that’s enough out of you. Here’s your toothpick, so we can check for fudgieness. You know, so it’s not cake.”

Ryan bows. “Of course, of course, Your Honor.”

Min’s responding giggle is enough to sustain Ryan for years to come. Brownies aside.

After the brownies are done, they curl up in bed with the tray. It’s torture waiting for the brownies to cool down, but a hospital visit from burns would certainly put a damper on their birthday. Not to mention cut into their already lacking budget and tight schedule.

“We’re going to get crumbs in the bed,” Min grumbles when Ryan presents him with a properly-cooled brownie. “Have you ever slept on crumbs, Ryan? Do you know how fun it is?”

“You say that like I don't eat in my bed all the time,” Ryan replies flippantly. He sits down next to Min and purposefully takes the biggest bite possible. They both watch as crumbs scatter onto the bed. Min sighs.

Ryan pauses. “Or. Well. I did.”

“You are literally sitting in your bed right now, leaving crumbs,” Min says, poking Ryan in the side playfully. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, though. When their gazes lock, Min conveys a silent message. Are you okay?

Ryan nods. Min relaxes, and grudgingly grabs a brownie. “Hmm. These are good.”

Ryan laughs. “Well, what did you expect? They were made by the brownie experts, after all. Or have you forgotten?”

“Forgive me for doubting cheap grocery store mix,” Min deadpans. His smile has returned in full, which in turn only brings a matching smile to Ryan’s face. “But it is quite good.”

“I agree.” Ryan downs his brownie. Somehow, he gets the feeling they won’t be talking much while they eat.

They devour the majority of the pan. It’s with some effort and self-restraint on both of their parts that they finally put the tray away - they both want leftovers, but fresh, warm brownies are difficult to refuse. In the end, the afternoon slips away, dangerously towards dinnertime, and the brownies end up safely stowed in their bag.

Dinner is a quieter affair after the brownie debacle, but it’s no less fun. They head downstairs to find a good restaurant in the area. (And so Ryan can drop off the inferior Kez - he nearly gets caught by the concierge, but slips away just in time. He catches her looking around, baffled, at the mysteriously appearing and disappearing concierge bell as they leave. Min shoots him a glare that feels like it could kill him, but in the end they escape unscathed.) After they make their escape, they end up at a small place with a live band playing on the corner stage.

Ryan nudges Min. “That could’ve been us, you know.”

“Maybe next time we pass through this town,” Min agrees. “But… thanks. I know you would’ve performed on your birthday if it was up to you, but I appreciate you spending it with me.”

Ryan rolls his eyes, although he’s smiling. Perhaps a little too emotionally. “Please, I’d be spending time with you even if we were playing,” he reminds Min. “But really. It’s nothing. I’m just happy to be with you, however we spend our time.”

Min reaches across the table to take Ryan’s hand. His eyes are shining in the soft candlelight. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Ryan smiles affectionately. His heart feels like it’s full to bursting. His vision is getting a little blurry. “I think I do, Min. Because I feel exactly the same way.”

Min’s responding smile is enough to make Ryan’s entire year.

The rest of the night is a blur after that. All Ryan really remembers is that he had fun and that he somehow loves Min even more than he did before. Which should be impossible, but it’s the truth.

They end up curled up in the bed together. Right as always, Min complains about crumbs, but his heart isn’t in it.

They don’t stay up too late. As much as Ryan loves his party-filled late nights of adrenaline and bad decisions, they both got up quite early. By the time Min’s arms are tucked securely around him, Ryan is asleep in an instant.

Well, not quite.

He’s in that state of almost-asleep-but-not-really when whatever visually discernible features the hotel room has in darkness are starting to blur beyond recognition when Min says it.

“I love you, Ryan.”

Ryan leans back, cuddling himself into Min. “I love you too.”

oh god this is so late again why can i please stop getting inspiration boosts exclusively at 9pm (i did write 1.5k words in an hour though that's not bad!)

i keep eating on my bed and then every night i'm like god what are these CRUMBS who brought fucking CRUMBS into my bed how dare you skdfhgfkdsk this fic is just projection but in the weirdest, most mundane ways

the beginning of this is actually the first thing i wrote for rymin week! i wrote it a week or so before after i finally figured out my prompt ideas (thank you for talking it out with me sae) and then proceeded to write nothing else but day 1 before the event began skhfjksl. i'm a mess thank you for coming

the worst part of writing post-train is the lack of kez. in a perfect world she got off the train with min and ryan and she and morgan became their floating concierge bell and castle road trip friends. i miss herrrrr

title is from masterpiece theater iii by marianas trench. i rediscovered this song a few months ago after years of not listening to it but the warriors map to it used to be my favorite thing years ago. the actual video didn't come out until i was nearly done with the books but i used to watch the planning video over and over again

if you ever wanna talk infinity train, writing, these amazing characters, or really anything hmu here on my tumblr or twitter! thank you for reading, and please leave a reblog/like/comment if you enjoyed it!

@ryminweek

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tocrackerboxpalace · 3 years

Text

Le Rêve - Part 1

Summary: A series of sticky situations causes John and Paul to redefine their relationship with a curiously fresh perspective.

Warning: R-rated

It was late.

Paul watched her dark shadow leap up the wall as she lowered herself onto the bed. She scanned the room slowly, taking in all of the intimate aspects of living: the scattered newspapers, the dirty laundry, the haphazard boots, notes scrawled on empty wrappers and used napkins and hotel stationary. He wasn’t necessarily proud of the conditions, but the present circumstances made it hard for him to focus on any chore of cleaning his room.

The room was bathed in a golden glow, the only radiance provided by a gentle crack of the bathroom door. She looked up at him through coy lashes and reached out to tug at the hem of his dress shirt. An invitation.

Paul was quick to accept. He sunk down beside her on the mattress, close enough to where their sides were touching. Their proximity quickened his heart rate, and he fought to keep his gaze from the skirt riding high on her thighs.

“So.” She spoke slowly, fingering a loose scrap of paper on the bed. “Is this where the magic happens?”

Paul fought off an eye roll, telling himself there was nothing wrong with the bird wanting a bit of small talk beforehand. Most fans did, and while normally he wouldn’t mind, he was in a particular state this evening.

“A bit.” He shot her what he felt was an authentically cheeky wink.

“Oh,” she responded, audibly disappointed in the lack of proper response. “That’s nice.”

“Yes,” he replied.

Paul didn’t know her name. He didn’t need to. What he did know is that he should feel more guilt at his misguided intentions. It was still up for debate as to whether he would ever entirely get past the icky twinge of using birds for this—ahem—purpose. But the more he had seen his mates do it, the easier it became. Now, the icky twinge was nothing more than that: a twinge. A quite easy feeling to justify and overcome.

The bird was pretty enough, though it was hard for him to focus on more than one feature at a time. Her hair was short-cropped in the way that Astrid had recently cut hers, and a spray of light freckles decorated her upturned nose. He couldn’t tell if her cheeks were still flushed, or if it was the heavy makeup she had painted on. Thick clumpy eyelashes juxtaposed the rest of her fair features, and her lips were a bright red. Paul subconsciously ran his tongue along his teeth when she flashed him a shy smile, revealing a smear of lipstick on her front tooth. Her eyes weren’t any particular color.

She blushed and let out a nervous chuckle, gaze drawing to where Paul’s delicate fingers had begun drawing circles on her knee. She had stilled, and he waited patiently for her to pull away, or gently push his hand back to his side. His movements were suggestive enough, but the girl was quite reserved. She offered him only playfully pouts, her teeth pulling teasingly at the bottom lip. Her own hands remained motionless on the bed, but she kicked her feet on the edge, bouncing herself up and down just enough to scatter Paul’s thoughts.

He felt himself growing impatient, and chewed his lip as she let her wide gaze rest on the half-awake bulge in his trousers. He was never one for teasing.

“Can I kiss you?” He blurted, drawing his hand back. If she wouldn’t get this started, he would. They both knew what they were there for. Not that the explicit conversation hadn’t been had, of course. Paul didn’t remember where or when, but she had blushed and averted her gaze at his forwardness.

Now, she nodded and scooted a bit closer, her thigh pressed deeper against his own. “Oh, please do.” This time, when she spoke, he thought he detected an American accent; though, the moment had passed, and there was no way to be sure.

Paul drew a sweet smile to his face and grazed her cheek lightly, taking her chin between his fingers. Her eyes fluttered closed, and Paul was quick to bridge the space between them. In the split second before their lips collided, the face suddenly seemed eerily familiar. It nearly froze Paul in his tracks, but the flash of recognition was over as quickly as it had struck. Just as before, he had no reaction to the simple girl’s face besides a warm hum of arousal at the prospect of what was about to occur.

The kiss was a bit messy. Not that Paul minded too much. Despite her mild temperament, the girl’s movements were rough—calloused fingertips came up to grip the back of his neck, and teeth clashed together on more than one occasion as her tongue desperately tangled with his own. One hand reached low to tug encouragingly at the hem of her skirt, but Paul frowned when he found the skirt no longer decorating her thick thighs. She was wearing slacks now—nicely pressed ones, at that. For a moment, their eyes met, and Paul realized with a start that her eyes were a golden brown.

They weren’t objectively spectacular, and yet they were. Something in the pools of pupil-dotted honey reached out to him, pulling him into their warm embrace. He could see nothing but her eyes. There was something incredibly enticing about the gaze, and he felt the similar stir of recognition in the pit of his stomach. She smiled—or at least, he thought she did, the eyes sparkling knowingly as crinkles twitched at the corners. He felt a hand on his thigh, impossibly close to the inner junction of his leg and hip, and let out a soft moan. Encouraged, the hand found its way to his clothed erection and gave a tentative squeeze.

Paul gasped and clawed at her waist to pull her into his lap. When their eyes met again, hers had lost color.

She began to rock slowly on top of him, peppering his lips with soft, open-mouthed kisses. Paul snaked a hand around her hips and shifted them up the bed, giving them more room to lie down. Her lips found their way to his neck, where she began sucking and nibbling at his jawline, hands coming up to caress his chest. Heavenly hips never ceased their magnificent movements.

With a groan, he fumbled for the clasp and zipper on her skirt. As he hastily dragged it down, something odd tickled the back of his mind about the article of clothing. He quieted the thought, frustratingly unable to place the feeling. Once she had momentarily lifted herself out of his lap and shuffled out of the skirt, he cast it aside like the damned thing had caught fire.

She caught his wrist when he reached for her knickers. “Uh uh uh,” she warned, back with the teasing smile. “I want to do you first.”

He was never one for much complaining.

The bird’s fingers began to play with his zip. They were thin and delicate, pretty in a way only a woman’s hands could be. Soft, light. He tried not shift too needily, his mind desperately begging her to speed up the process.

After what felt like hours, the pair of them worked his suit pants off. Gentle intermission kisses woven in the process left his shirt buttons halfway undone and his tie hanging loose around his neck. Paul was sure he looked like a randy wreck, a mess of odds and ends and half-finished projects. At this point, he hardly cared. The only goal was to get the bird to do something to the needy swell in his trousers. His hopes were heightened when she shuffled lower on the bed, gently pushing his knees apart and ducking in the space amid them.

A low moan sounded between Paul’s thighs. He instinctively curled his fingers tighter into the hair, which was longer now. Thicker, too, with an auburn tint. Hadn’t it been blonde before? Paul sat up on his elbows with a frown and a grunt of effort. Vision blurred with arousal, he blinked rapidly and tried to attend to the bird that was so exasperatingly playful and slow. When the figure sharpened into focus, Paul’s breath hitched.

Two amber eyes peered up at him, heavy-lidded and lustful. They were the same as before. Paul swallowed hard as he watched the lashes flutter closed, and the chest expand with a deep breath. The brow was knitted in concerned apprehension.

There was no ambiguity about who he was with now.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Macca?” John whispered. “We’re getting a bit carried away, do you think?”

Paul only let out a reserved hum and tugged at the hair, pulling John closer to where he wanted—no, needed—him the most. His thoughts were muddy, and he didn’t have the time nor energy to ask himself all the important questions drowning in the back of his mind.

John surveyed the tent almost curiously. He nudged it with his nose, causing Paul to let out a frustrated groan. “Johnny—”

“You really want this, don’t you?” John interrupted, his tone amused. He quieted a bit. “You want me to…” Paul blinked at him, blushing furiously as he waited for his friend to finish the desire. It took John a few beats and a cleared throat, but he finally continued: “You want me to suck ya off.”

Paul couldn’t help but nod. A pained expression overtook his pretty face when John reached up to trace the outline of his cock, still imprisoned in the confines of his underwear. John glanced up at him with piercing eyes, before tugging Paul’s underwear down just enough to allow the erection to pop free.

When John’s tongue traced a firm stripe up from the base of Paul’s length, a bit of a once-over, Paul shuddered shamelessly. He couldn’t bite back the gasp. “I—Oh, God.”

“Good?” John questioned, intrigued. When Paul nodded hazily, he did it again.

Paul scowled a bit as the familiar feeling of being kept on edge resituated itself.

“I, er…” Paul cleared his throat. “Good, but not enough. Need… need more.”

“Aye.” John grinned goofily in a typical Lennon-fashion before reaching to grasp Paul in his palm. The calloused fingers were back, almost ticklish as John lazily began stroking the shaft. Paul squirmed under his grip, heavily focused on the intrusive thought that noted that this was somehow better than any bird he could dream up.

John studied the budding drop of precum with great attention, like it was a newly arrived guest. When he seemed to reach some sort of internal consensus, John’s tongue dipped down, causing Paul’s hands to twist violently in the sheets.

Paul wanted to strangle the man, or perhaps cry, at the way his face contorted in electrified disgust. A wicked smile tugged at John’s features immediately after, accompanying perhaps the worst sentence that Paul had ever heard out of his mouth.

“Not bad.”

—

Paul shot up in bed.

There was no bird, no skirt on the floor, no shrugged off trousers or half-done shirt, no salacious glow of the hotel bathroom lights. His breathing was rapid, but the material that heaved with his chest was the white cotton of his pajamas. The room was bright, white rays of early morning sunlight snaking through the cheap blinds.

“All right, princess?” John groaned from beside him. He had sat up with a start as well, in response to Paul’s frantic awakening.

“What’s going on?” Paul’s voice was shaky.

“I dunno,” John answered with a sleepy shrug, yawning as his head fell hard back onto the pillow. “You came here. You tell me.”

With a start, Paul realized that he really had joined him there, and that his bed was lying willfully unoccupied on the other half of the room. “Bad dream,” he mumbled thoughtlessly.

John grunted in response.

As Paul’s breathing slowed, he tried to recount everything that had happened in the dream and pinpoint where exactly it had gone awry. It had been a fine dream before John showed up. And then it had been…

He shook his head. Millions of questions and fears flitted through his mind, a whirlwind much too intense for this time of morning. The second most important concern was why it happened. The most important concern was how Paul felt about it now.

A light snore drew Paul’s attention to the re-slumbering man beside him. A hollow feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t go back to sleep now, especially not in the same bed.

Fuck.

#the beatles #beatles fanfiction #smut warning #john lennon #paul mccartney #mclennon #chapter fic #canon era #le reve #part 1

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willddheartt · 4 years

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Just Another Shade Of Blue | JJ Maybank

Summary: You’re a kook, and somehow, you’ve become friends with the infamous Kook hater, JJ Maybank. For summer break your father is letting you take a trip anywhere, with whoever you’d like for a few days, as a “I’m sorry your mom and I are divorcing, but please love me” present. Who else would you take other than the one person who you think could use a little vacation from the outer banks?

Inspired By: If They Only Knew - Alfie Arcuri & Bittersweet - musicbyblanks

Warnings: angst(?)

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: This was supposed to be a Rudy imagine/fic/one shot but I find it incredibly hard to write for real people so I changed it to JJ. I hope the ones who asked to be tagged in the Rudy one don’t mind the substitution but I was working on it for too long and nothing was working out how I would have liked so here we are with the same concept but inspired by a different song. This turned out way longer than I expected.

Masterlist

Tag List: @afterglowsb-tch13 @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @hucklebaefinn @milamaybank @marianas-studyblr

The last few months were not easy for you. Your parents had finally been filing for the divorce they threatened for many years, but that in now way made the fighting stop, if anything it made it far worse. Almost every night for the last month both your mother and father ended up in a screaming match downstairs over something small and insignificant. At first it was what college you were going to, then where you were going to live, and the cherry on top, how they weren't trying to control your life. Even though that was completely true.

Tonight was no different. Your mother was screaming at your father about how you should not be allowed to go off to a completely different country alone without a parent. You knew the trip was only even mentioned because your father wanted you to stay with him once the devorce was finalized, which you had no problem with but if you were getting a free trip, to wherever you wanted in the world, with all expenses paid and spending money, you weren't going to turn it down.

Although your father got lucky with investing into some real estate company and you now had more money than you knew what to do with, You had never been one for the Kook lifestyle. The thought of getting into places just because you had money was never appealing, and the thought of hanging around shallow rich people was something that sounded like the lowest ring of hell to you. You found comfort and friendship within the small family of Pogues. They didn’t seem to care about your social status, as long as you were there for them, they were there for you. Like tonight.

You’ve had enough of the screaming coming from downstairs, after climbing out of your second floor window you made your way to the lake house you have spent many nights at. The chateau was on the other side of the island but the walk was better than listening to your parents for god knows how long, they could go on for hours. The house was dark, no lights were on except for the one outside above the front door, it was light with a dim amber glow that helped guide you up the few stairs. You let yourself in, not bothering to knock seeing as the brunette who inhabited the home was probably well asleep by now. You weren’t surprised when you saw JJ sitting on the couch, he stayed with John B a lot, but you were surprised to see he still seemed wide awake.

“Hey,” You sighed, walking into the living room “What are you doing here, it's late?” The blonde asked, getting straight to the point. “Fighting again,” You shrugged, sitting on the couch next to the tired looking boy. “Divorce stuff or different shit?” “Kook stuff,” You shrugged, knowing he probably didn’t want to hear it seeing as how he couldn’t wrap his head around how people could have so much money and still have problems. “Shoot,” He said, surprising you.

With your eyebrows raised and eyes wide you turned to him, “Really?” The blonde shrugged, “Why not, got nothing better to do,” You nodded, “Dad said I could go anywhere I wanted for three days, all expenses paid and he’d give me however much money I wanted to spend on shit, as his way of saying ‘I love you please stay with me once the devorce is over’ and mom’s mad because she doesn’t think I should go to another country alone,” You sighed, crossing your arms once you had finished explaining. “Kook stuff,” You repeated. “Wow, you’re right. Kook Shit,” JJ chuckled You nodded, “I told you,” You thought the boy was just going to shrug it off, and move on because it was after all, kook shit, but he surprised you with what he said next. “You said she’s mad because she doesn't want you going alone, right?” the blonde asked “Yeah, pissed,” You nodded “Why don’t you take someone with you, I mean by the sounds of it your dad is going to give you whatever you want until the divorce is done,” The boy shrugged, “I’d take advantage if that if I were you,”

You thought about what he was saying for a second. In the first offer from your dad, he did mention you could take a friend, any friend, he didn’t say they had to be of the female gender. An idea popped into your head, one that was surely to piss off your mother further. “Do you want to come with me?” You asked, catching JJ off guard “What? I don’t have the money for that,” He said “All expenses paid,” You said, “Dad said I could take anyone I wanted, so i'm asking you,”

JJ continued to shake his head and give you the normal spew of excuses, you'd heard them a thousand times when you asked him to come over or stay the night, even if it was your dad asking him to stay for supper. But this time, you weren't taking no for an answer. “No, I'm not giving up until you say yes. Will you, JJ Maybank, accompany me in an all expenses paid trip to Paris, France?” You asked, flashing your best attempt at puppy dog eyes, the same ones that had worked on your parents so many times before, the same ones that had been used to get you and your friends out of heaps of trouble in the past. The blonde boy held eye contact with you for a few seconds before looking away and shaking his head at you, “Fine, fine, I’ll go with you,” He sighed in defeat, chuckling. You grinned, “Yay, we leave Thursday, 5:00am,” “Five am?” JJ said, shocked, “That's so early,” “So?” You shrugged, “Stay over Wednesday, it will save us time and will make sure you're there.” “Fine, alright. It looks like I’m going to Paris with you,” He smiled slightly. You grinned, “I cannot wait,”

JJ had never been on a plane before, flying and airports were a new thing for him. When the plane started to take off he looked terrified, but nothing compared to the way his eyes shot open when you hit your first patch of turbulence. It was comical for you, as much as you tried to calm him down you couldn’t hold back your laughter to do so. But the boy had no shortage of sarcastic comebacks. Your flight landed at 1:00 PM, giving you time to settle back onto the ground before dinner. JJ seemed relieved when the plane’s wheels finally touched down onto the cement of the runway.

The two of you were sharing a hotel room. The room only had one decent sized bed. At the time of booking the room your father assumed you’d be bringing along a female friend, so there would be no issue in sharing a bed. You and JJ stood in the doorway looking at the one bed, saying that it would be alright but in all honesty neither of you have shared a bed together before and this was going to be something new. Even in the Chateau, you never bunked together in the spare room, or even at your house, he always bunked on the pull out couch in the corner.

By the time you were fully settled into the surroundings you’d been starving from the journey, the hotel was surviving dinner but it didn’t look like something either of you wanted to try and so the search for something more american was in way. You walked down the busy Paris street, your arm linked with JJ’s to ensure you wouldn’t get lost, as you looked for any kind of burger joint restaurant. Your camera hung around your neck alerting everyone you were tourists, but that wasn’t the only dead give away. You were in no big rush to find a place to eat even though you were hungry, you both seemed to forget about that once you stepped foot out of the hotel. The old buildings and beautifully detailed architecture work caught your attention as the setting sun flashed golden rays upon the bricks that built up the city, leaving a golden hue hanging in the air to engulf you. It was summer in Paris and it had been everything you’d imagined it could be. It was beautiful and warm and it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist as you walked down the street with the Pogue, you were finally in a place where nobody focused on your social titles such as Kook or Pogue, you could just be.

After dinner as the two of you were walking through the winding streets that were lit by amber glowing street lights, it felt like it was just the two of you in the world. Like whatever life back home didn’t matter. There were groups of teens scattering the streets, laughing and messing around with their friends. It felt like everything in the night was infinite, like you didn’t have to worry about tomorrow because everything was going to stay exactly how it was. You only had one full day in Paris, your flight to go back home leaves on Sunday, but you were going to make the most of it with the blonde boy who was accompanying you.

“So?” You asked as you walked down the cobblestone path holding JJ’s hand, “What do you think?” His eyes were glittered with yellow and orange reflections from the lights as you looked at him, he was in awe of the beautiful city, “Its- wow. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He sighed, with a small smile. “I’ve always wanted to come here since I was a kid. I thought I could have a romance like in the movies but I ended up falling in love with the city,” You sighed, a content smile came to rest upon your lips. “A romance like the movies?” JJ turned to you with a teasing smirk. “Hey,” You playfully hit his shoulder. “It's beautiful, alright.” “I never took you for that kind of person,” He shrugged You nodded, “I know, I don't mention or even pursue it. Somethings feel best left unsaid, because then they cant fall apart on you,” “If you never try to find it you’ll never know if it had the chance to fall apart,” he pointed out “Maybe that's for the best,” You shrugged, leaning out over the side of the bridge to get a photo from one of the canals. Although you felt like that conversation was far from over, JJ dropped it for the moment being.

The city was even more beautiful in the day but you did really prefer it at night. You dragged JJ out of bed bright and early to go sightseeing. You spent the day walking around the historic city, wandering through the winding streets, looking through small shops as well as paying a very thorough visit to the street lined with tourist vendors. The line for Notre-Dame was long but so worth it. Inside the beautiful gothic cathedral was huge stained glass windows that sent colourful patterns onto the floor. It was packed, you followed the direction of the crowd but clung onto JJ’s arm so you didn’t lose him, something that you have become accustomed to in the last 24 hours. It was dim inside but there was still enough light to see where you were going, and be able to make out the beautiful stone work on the inside of the cathedral. As you were coming back around to the exit, security began pushing people aside, clearing the way and holding you back with a red velvet rope. At first when you were grabbed by the shoulders and pulled away from JJ you thought you were being thrown out for something but quickly you came to realize what was happening and you were able to get back over to the other side of the cleared path to JJ’s side again. Your heartbeat in your throat as you took a breath. “Jesus christ, that scared the shit outta me” You sighed once you were able to continue walking The boy you clung to once again nodded. “Me too, I thought we were getting thrown out,” He chuckled

As the sun was setting you took one last tour around the tourist shops, making your last purchases before heading off to the eiffel tower. Thankfully you purchased your tickets earlier in the day and you didn’t have to wait in the winding line up. You and JJ walked through, flashing your tickets to the workers and to the elevator operator. Once everyone piled out one side you were allowed on. You were pressed up against the very back of the elevator. Inside the metal cart that was hauling you up the tower was small, it couldn't have been anymore than 4’x4’ but it felt like almost 50 people squeezed in, all eager to overlook the city and see all the twinkling lights from above. Once you came to the first stop JJ pulled you off with him. Slowly you made your way around, looking out over the city and snapping a few photos from 187 feet up. The streets and lights were still very much visible, you could still see the people walking on the sidewalks. Without wasting any more time you got inline for the elevator going to the very top. If you thought you were squashed before, you didn’t even know what to call it this time. It felt like the ride to the very top took far longer than the one to the first level. You were pressed into the corner, with JJ mostly in front of you. Both doors opened this time, you were able to slip out the back doors that you were pressed into on the way up, and finally you got to look out over the city. It looked almost magical, like you had entered another dimension from the slow moving elevator.

Everything on the ground, 906 feet below you, faded away into a small dot. The people weren’t even visible, only the lights from the moving cars alerted you there were still people down there. Quickly you snapped a few shots of the city scape below you that was lit with amber glowing lights, before turning your camera and pointing it was the blonde boy who was standing next to you. He was looking out over the city, he may have been in awe the first time seeing how the city came to life at night but right now, when he looked back to you, his eyes held an emotion you hadn’t seen from him before, it was something unreadable. Something intriguing. “Beautiful, isn't it?” You asked, putting your camera away in your bag, deciding you were going to live in the moment for the rest of the night. JJ nodded, “Gorgeous, I can’t believe I'm actually here.” He was impressed.

As you walked around the very top you witnessed multiple couples doing the very romantic kiss from the top of the Eiffel Tower, while a generous bystander took their phone or camera and snapped a couple of photos from them. You looked at JJ after witnessing yet another couple kiss, he looked back at you, it was like you both wanted to say something but were too afraid to speak until JJ cleared his throat. “Would you like to pursue a scene straight out of your movie romance dream?” JJ asked with his famous smirk, his blue eyes light up with the faint twinkling of the outside lights on the tower. Your words almost got stuck in your throat, out of all things that was something you had not expected him to ask, nevertheless, you nodded. “I would be honoured,” You smiled. You both handed your phones off to two different people, asking one to video and the other to snap photo bursts. You stood with you back to the railing of the tower and JJ held you by your hips, one hand quickly coming up to cup your jaw as he leant in, connecting your lips together in a soft yet deep kiss. Your hands instinctively linked at the back of his neck, and you pulled him back in for one more quick peck before letting him pull away completely.

There was no lie in the world that could hide how you felt right now. Your lips tingled, and your stomach filled with butterflies and you could swear you saw fireworks. It was like every movie romance ever. People around you clapped like they did for everyone, assuming you were together.

Getting down from the tower was not as easy as getting up, the demand to be taken back down from the tower was huge, the lines winded around almost too far and you could almost argue that as soon as you stepped off the elevator from coming up you would be joining the line to go down.

It took way too long to get down but even with the clock reading 12:30 AM, you weren't tired. Far from it actually. You didn’t know if it was from the kiss or if it was because you didn’t want the night to end. But you and JJ found yourselves running through the emptying streets as the early hours of the morning approached. The two of you laughing like you had no cares in the world, because as you were walking through the empty streets, it truly felt like it was just the two of you in the world. It was just the two of you and that city on earth.

You were pulled down onto the blondes lap when he sat down on a park bench. As you admired his flawless tan skin in the moonlight and amber glow from the streetlights, his eyes looked bluer than ever, like what you’d imagine the deepest part of the ocean would look like if you dug deeper. His hand grip around you waist tightened and your hands that sat on his shoulders came up to gently cup his cheeks as you slowly leaned in. Before you knew it he closed the rest of the distance between your lips and you were kissing him, hard. Like he was about to slip away and out of your grasp, like it was a dream and you were desperately trying to cling onto anything that could keep you asleep for longer.

The longer you kissed him the harder his hands gripped your hips, the closer he pulled you. One of your hands held onto his shoulder and the other found home in his hair as you pulled away out of need for oxygen. Your breathing was as heavy as if you two had just gone at it for 20 minutes, but the truth was the kiss didn’t even last a minute. You looked down into his dark blue eyes, in the yellow hue of the Paris lighting and it was like your heart knew this was your movie romance. And like waves on a beach shore, you were falling and crashing hard.

“I’m sorry,” You breathed out immediately, your hand feeling out of his hair. The blue-eyed blonde shook his head “don’t ever be sorry for that,” He pulled you in for another kiss and it was like the universe had exploded all over again. Every nerve ending in your body had been brought to life, you felt every inch of his lips on yours. Out of all the people you were bound to meet in this lifetime, you never expected JJ Maybank to be the one you’d fall for. But as he was kissing you as the two of you sat in a random park, in Paris, everything you thought you knew or ever might know became irrelevant and unimportant, the only thing you knew for sure was that you were in love with the boy you were kissing so hungrily at 3:00 AM. JJ was your tv romance, something that took you awhile to see it but once you did, you fell hard and fast.

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catnaples · 4 years

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KARASUNO VISITING MANAGERS AMERICAN HOMETOWN

Girl, about that last part? Same lmao. I actually really like this headcanon! I only did it for Karasuno, but I might make other parts for other teams! Thanks for sending a request in, as always, and I hope you enjoy! ♥

KARASUNO VISITING MANAGERS HOMETOWN IN AMERICA

TW: Mentions of smoking pot, drinking

♥ You’ve been the manager for Karasuno’s volleyball team for about three months, and you were having the time of your life. You had gotten very close with all of them, and you couldn’t imagine a life without them anymore

♥ After the training camp, Karasuno’s VB team got invited to America to watch one of their powerhouse schools train and play (which happened to be your former school)

♥ You ended up going to America with them for a full week, and you finally got to show them what your life was like before the move

♥ On Monday during school hours, you got to go back to your classes and visit your teachers and old classmates. You brought the team along with you while you showed them your old routine in your small little hometown school. You’ll have packed them lunch so they wouldn’t have to eat the gross school lunch, and you’ll show them around the small campus as you explain all of the things that you used to do during school hours

♥ That night after watching your men’s VB team practice, you’ll drag them to your favorite diner, and hog an entire corner of the restaurant (and of course you’ll explain how close you are with the staff). You’ll even bring a few of your American friends over (the rambunctious ones) and they immediately hit it off with Tanaka, Noya, and Hinata.

♥ On day two, you spend the first half of your day showing the team around the town. You take Yachi and Kiyoko into one of the small apothecary type shops and show them all of the essential oils and other cool stuff, and buy them each one of your favorite natural perfumes that you used to pick up. You’ll then show Hinata the best icecream shop in town, and buy him a cone. One by one, you’ll bring each teammate to a part of the town that reminds you of them and buy them something small

♥ After watching the second day of practice, you’ll ask Tanaka and Noya (you already know these two would be the two stoners of the group) to come with you to a party after the rest of the team decided to stay in for the night (to watch corny American movies)

♥ imagine their surprise when you reveal that you too are a stoner, and you bring them to a seemingly abandoned house near the woods (they think you’re gonna murder them). Inside though, there are LED lights everywhere, neon graffiti splattered all over the walls, a group of people on a makeshift stage singing, and comfy looking couches scattered throughout the entire building. They instantly fall in love, especially after you reveal that the house isn’t actually abandoned, it’s just rented out by someone who wanted a separate house for partying. You’ll party with them all night, and make it back to the hotel just in time to pretend you’re sleeping when Daichi comes into each of your rooms to wake you up.

♥ On the third day, you’ll drag the third years around with you because coincidentally you made it to your hometown just in time for Senior skip day. So you’ll get invited along by a few of your old senior friends, and you’ll show the third years what being a senior is like here in America.

♥ You all end up going to one of the swimming holes nearby because the weather is nice, and Daichi will immediately hit it off with one of the football players. They’ll participate in a game of chicken, while Asahi hangs out with the shy art kids who came along. You and Suga will sit on the rocks together next to the small waterfall and talk about the differences in high school life. When the day comes to a close, you rush the third years back to the gym just in time to watch practice (even though they’re still in swimsuits)

♥ That night, you bring the entire team with you to one of your friend’s garages, where LED lights line the tops of the walls and chill music is playing. You all sit around in a circle with multiple boxes of pizza in front of you, and that’s the first time the team hears you use so much American slang. You explain to them certain words while they laugh, and maybe even introduce the others to the good ol’ jazz cabbage.

♥ A few members decline, but they’re so fascinated by your life here and how different you act, almost like you feel freer to be yourself. By the end of the night, half of the team is utterly baked, and the other half is leading them back to the hotel. Daichi will stay in the back with you and smile at you. “I feel like I’m finally getting to know the real you, Y/N. Your life here in America is very interesting.” Next thing you know, Suga is on your other side, and the three of you are laughing about some of the slang that you had used earlier

♥ On the fourth day, there’s no practice for the team, so the entire day is spent at the swimming hole again (Hinata and Noya were very upset about not getting to go). You bring along some light snacks and maybe even a wine cooler or two, and watch as your team splashes around, excited by their new surroundings. That night, you’ll bring them to the diner again for dinner, before calling it a night (swimming took all of your energy)

♥ On the fifth day, (the last full day), you and Yamaguchi convince Tsukishima to come out with you. You’ll drag him to the town’s famous bakery for some strawberry pastries (which Tsukishima won’t admit it, but he’s actually incredibly grateful that you brought him). Then, you’ll take them on a walk through the park nearby, which is abundant with flowers. You’ll pick some and force Tsuki and Yamaguchi to wear them, because why not?

♥ Then, you’ll go to volleyball practice (where Karasuno will actually play against your former team in a practice match). After the match, you’ll bring the team to the small city area and wander around with them one last time, pointing out all of the places that you love (even if you had already done it earlier in the week). They can recognize how much you missed your hometown and your friends, so the next day before their flight, they drag you to all of your favorite locations and take group photo’s with you

♥ Needless to say, you all are desperate for another trip back to America soon. They love seeing your roots and watching you be your true self

#HAIKYUU #haikyuu headcanons #karasuno headcanons

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

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But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 6: Something Borrowed, Something Blue]

I’d like to give a very special shout out to @killer-queen-xo and the insightful prediction she left on Chapter 5 about Y/N and the camera...you were close! 😉

Chapter summary: Y/N breaks a promise; John gives a gift; Freddie has a request; Roger makes a scene.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, creepy male behavior.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @bookandband @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“Welcome!” Mary chimes as she opens the door for you, then her eyes flick down to the gift bag decorated with Santa hats and sprigs of holly. “Oh, love, we said positively no presents!”

“It’s just something small, I promise. Very inexpensive.”

“She’s here!” Freddie announces with a flourish of his hands, leaping up from the couch. The apartment he shares with Mary is tiny and very cluttered, and absolutely none of the decorations match. The walls are a collage of Bohemian tapestries and family photos and prints of Rococo-style paintings and magazine cutouts of articles about Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, The Beatles, Aretha Franklin, Elvis Presley, Queen. Freddie pecks you on both cheeks; Blue Christmas is drifting from the record player. You’re suddenly aware that the apartment is brimming with the scent of baking cookies. In the living room, Roger, Brian, and John are hanging strings of popcorn and paper ornaments on a short, rather scruffy Christmas tree. There is a vast array of presents scattered around the tree stand; all are small, with the exception of one large square box swathed in silver and sapphire wrapping paper.

“I see no one else respected the no presents rule either.”

“You Bostonians and your insatiable need to rebel,” Freddie quips, shooing you towards the tree.

“Y/N, look at this,” Chrissie says from where she and Veronica are sitting on the couch threading popcorn. She’s frowning and holding up a piece of paper cut into the shape of a Pontiac Firebird. “Will you please inform Roger that this is not Christmas themed?”

“Awww!” You grin as she hands it to you. He’s even drawn on a windshield, headlights, and a smiley face floating behind the steering wheel. “Let him hang it, Chris. It’s the only car he’s going to be able to afford for a long time.”

Roger bounds over and embraces you, nearly knocking you over. “This is why you’re my favorite American in the entire world. Possibly my favorite person period. The love of my life.” He takes the paper Firebird and impales it on an ornament hook, then combs through the tree branches for an ideal location.

Brian points heatedly at Roger. “If he gets to hang the damned Firebird then I get to hang my Saturn!”

“Look what you’ve done,” Chrissie tells you, but she’s smiling. She’s wearing a gorgeous green velvet dress and pieces of mistletoe weaved into her long dark hair. Veronica is beside her in a chunky red sweater and denim skirt, not particularly flashy yet festive nonetheless; she waves to you as she pushes pieces of popcorn one by one down the string. She’s wearing makeup tonight, which is unusual. Her lace-white cheeks are tinged with rouge, her slate-blue eyes rimmed by lavender shadow. Freddie and Mary are removing a sheet of cookies from the oven and quibbling over whether they’ve browned enough.

Roger gestures to the gift bag as you place it under the tree. “You better not have spent your own money on that.”

“Oh, tons. It’s diamonds and gold and a dash of overpriced modern art, just to spice things up.”

Roger growls theatrically in his high, raspy voice. Brian stands back and admires the tree as John loops a strand of multicolored Christmas lights around it.

“It’s actually very modest,” you assure Roger. “Not impressive at all. Chris helped.”

“You enabled this behavior?!” Freddie scolds Chrissie as he traverses the room with an overflowing plate of chocolate chip cookies.

She sips cheap red wine impishly and shrugs. “I know a girl in fashion school, I can get their extra yarn if I buy her a cup of tea and pretend to care about her disastrous love life.”

You smirk. “Disastrous love life? I’ve got one of those.”

“You knitted something for us?!” Roger shouts, delighted.

You wiggle your fingers in the air. “What can I say? I’m good with my hands.”

Roger groans. “Don’t tease me.”

“You certainly are,” Brian tells you. “That roadie who busted his forehead open got fixed up straightaway.”

“That was literally two stitches. Head wounds just bleed a lot, it looked way worse than it was.”

“Well,” Brian insists. “I was impressed.”

Freddie claps his hands, slick obsidian nail polish gleaming. “Ahhhh, I’m so excited! What have you made for me, love? Oh, I hope it’s a nice thong.”

“It’s probably not,” Chrissie says.

Mary pours you a glass of wine and glances around the room. “Does everyone have enough cookies? Drinks? Veronica, dear?”

“I suppose I could use a refill.” She passes Mary her glass and smiles as John sits beside her on the couch. You’ve never quite been able to figure out Veronica; she’s cordial yet removed, kind yet wary, extremely dogmatic in her Catholicism and yet simultaneously socializing with rock stars who are unmistakably living in sin. Her most redeeming quality, as far as you’ve observed, is her steadfast devotion to John...or, perhaps, to the life she’s envisioned they could build together. She rests her hand on John’s thigh and glances coolly at you as you pretend not to notice.

Mary returns with a fresh glass of wine for Veronica. “Alright. Should we start with you, Y/N?”

“What, for the gift exchange we all promised wasn’t happening?” You grin. “Sure, I’ll start.”

You open your Christmasy bag and start doling out small boxes. It’s December 23rd, and Queen is enjoying three weeks off for the holidays before the Sheer Heart Attack Tour resumes. The next show is in Columbus, Ohio—not exactly a cultural mecca, it’s true—followed by a scattering of stops across the continental United States. Half of you is thrilled, especially for the night the band will spend in Boston; the other part of you is dreading it. You don’t talk to Roger about what he does with groupies on tour—or what Brian does, or what Freddie does—and Rog doesn’t mention it around you either. He asks you to join him after every show, for dinner or drinks or clubbing; and you tell him no (though it’s never easy to) and try not to think about the apparent eventualities of stardom. Then Roger goes one way, and you go another.

“Let’s see, what do we have here...” Brian begins prying open his box with long careful fingers.

“You can’t judge me,” you plead. “I’ve only had the tour break to work on them, and I’m really not an expert knitter or anything, and I—”

“Oh, it’s lovely!” Freddie gushes, holding his black and white striped hat aloft for everyone to see. He pulls it on over his silky hair and turns to Mary. “What do you think? Am I dashing?”

She beams as she kisses him. “Overwhelmingly so.” And you think about how being on the road feels like one dimension, and being here in London another. Here, fidelity and domesticity; there, freedom from the familiar world and all its browbeating rules.

“Mittens!” Brian proclaims joyfully. They’re an olivey green, and just large enough for his hands. “They’re so comfy, feel these Chris...”

Roger whips his hat out of the box; it’s very fuzzy and a fiery red with flecks of burnt orange. “I’m obsessed! I adore it! I’ll never take it off!”

“I can’t believe you did all this,” John says. He’s sliding on his mittens, which are a soft greyish blue. “This must have taken you days.”

“It’s Christmas! You’re supposed to slave away for the people you love at Christmas. And you’ve all done so much for me, the scales will always be hopelessly lopsided, don’t you worry.”

“The color is beautiful,” Veronica observes as she touches John’s mittens, but perhaps guardedly.

“They match his eyes!” Freddie exclaims; and they do. “This is delightful, Nurse Nightingale. Truly. How can I ever repay you?”

A smile ripples across your face, full of serenity and relief. They really do like the presents. I didn’t stay up until 4 a.m. knitting for nothing. “The cookies and wine are more than sufficient. I’m so sorry I didn’t have time to make anything for the ladies, but hopefully your charming future husbands will share and there are chocolates in the bottom of the boxes for you—”

“Oh please,” Chrissie snaps. “You’ve already made the rest of us look thoughtless enough. Kindly shut up and drink your wine now. Thank you, obnoxious Bostonian.”

You laugh as Chrissie distributes her and Brian’s gifts for everyone. She decreed weeks ago that you’ll spend Christmas Eve and Day with her family in Dartford. You can help me keep Brian distracted and in good spirits, she’d told you. His father is livid about us living together without being married, and I’m petrified Bri will give himself another ulcer over it.

Inside the small boxes Chrissie passes out are fancy teabags that smell like pomegranate and peppermint. Freddie and Mary dispense pouches of little pink soaps shaped like dolphins and seashells. John and Veronica give everyone homemade candles, which are either ruby red or evergreen. Roger has picked out three novelty mugs: Led Zeppelin for Brian and Chrissie, cats for Freddie and Mary, and raining gold coins for John and Veronica.

“Well I hope that’s prophetic,” John jokes.

“I don’t get a mug?” You’re trying not to show it, but you are hurt that he forgot you.

“No, you don’t.” Roger rummages around under the tree and passes you the large square present wrapped in silver and blue paper. Chrissie and Mary whistle and clap.

“Oh, big spender!” Freddie chastises.

“Roger, no,” you breathe, horrified.

“Roger, yes!” He drums the coffee table eagerly. “Open it.”

“No real presents allowed! You don’t have the money—”

“Are we married?” Roger asks.

You blink at him. “What?”

“Are. We. Married?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Then you don’t get to tell me what to do with my very tiny sliver of earnings that the record company doesn’t steal.” He grins. “Now open it.”

Slowly, cautiously, you tear through the wrapping paper as the others hover on the edges of their seats. John is squinting suspiciously. Roger balls up his fists and presses them to his smiling lips. You open the top flaps of the box.

“No.”

“What is it?!” Mary begs. “The anticipation is agony!”

“Yeah, love of my life,” Roger taunts, his blue eyes luminous. “What is it?”

Carefully, you lift it out of the box. It’s brand new and shiny and perfect.

“A camera!” Freddie cries.

“A Canon F-1, to be precise,” Roger says. “And a manual too. For our aspiring wildlife photographer. Us feral musicians being the wildlife, of course.”

“Roger...” You reach for him instinctively, and he rushes over to wrap you in a hug. “Thank you so much. I don’t know why you would do this for me.”

He laughs. “Because you’re the best gift I ever got, Boston babe!”

“Let’s give it a try!” Freddie plucks the camera from your hands and begins loading film. “Alright, click this...press that...oh fuck, how do I do this?! Deaky, come over here. You can fix anything.”

“Sure thing, Fred.” John readies the camera in just a minute or two, no longer than it takes Mary to refill glasses and send around another plate of cookies. He looks a little ashen to you, a little stunned; but when you ask him if he’s okay, John just smiles and nods.

Freddie snaps photos of Brian and Chrissie as they snuggle on the couch, of John posing sheepishly in front of the Christmas tree, of Veronica waving as she nibbles a chocolate chip cookie, of Roger in his flame-colored hat. Then Roger makes sure you get your camera back, and it’s your turn to take the pictures. You sit beside the tree, the kaleidoscopic glow of Christmas lights speckling the walls like stars, and collect still frames of memories like catching lightning bugs in jars, like it’s July instead of December, like it’s the heart of a year instead of the end. After a while Freddie comes over to sit next to you, to toast wine glasses with you, to make fun of your flushed cheeks. Then he watches as you gaze at Roger from across the room. Rog is trying on Brian’s mittens and clapping his hands like a seal, grinning hugely, flashing his pointy little canine teeth. And despite all those oh-so-rational promises you’ve made to yourself, you begin to wonder.

“Don’t do it,” Freddie says quietly.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you sling back, pleasantly tipsy. And then: “Why not?”

“Because I like having you around. And if you do this, eventually you won’t be around anymore.”

When you’re finally exhausted enough to drag yourself away from them and catch a taxi, John follows you out into the hallway of the apartment building.

“I have one more gift for you.”

“John, no, absolutely not, I am thoroughly unworthy—”

“Stop.” He pulls a thin, rectangular item from behind his back. It takes you a moment to recognize it.

“Your notebook...?”

“I know it’s not wrapped.” He’s anxious, you realize, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I kept trying to work up the nerve, and I still wasn’t sure about it when we came over here, and now, well...here I am.” He gives the notebook to you, and you open it, and you gasp in awe.

Inside are sketches from Rome: the concert, the temples, the museum, the beach on that cool breezy afternoon, and, best of all, the people you shared the city with. You and Roger laughing in front of a statue of Perseus. Brian and Chrissie contemplating ruins. Freddie hunched over a piano, his dexterous hands stretched across the keys. And you sitting in that sweltering, fire-lit corner of the Italian restaurant, smiling from behind a glass bottle of Coke. You trace your fingertips over your own face; it’s blissful and peaceful and beautiful in a way that you’ve never seen yourself. “John...”

“Because, you know, you said that you wanted to document the tour so you could remember it all, and I figured...since you didn’t have a camera...maybe this would be better than nothing.”

“It’s a lot better than nothing, John. It’s incredible.”

“They’ll do for now. You won’t need drawings anymore,” he notes, somewhat mournfully. “You can put them on your refrigerator until you have photos to replace them with.”

You shake your head, still staring. “The way you captured my face...”

He shrugs, smiling crookedly. “I just borrowed it.”

“Thank you.” You climb onto your tiptoes and wrap your arms around the back of his neck. He’s warm and gentle; his fluffy hair tickles the sensitive undersides of your wrists.

“Happy Christmas,” he whispers to you; happy, not merry, like a true Englishman. And he’s right. You can’t remember a time you’ve been happier.

~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rings like a scream, like shattering glass. It wrenches you out of that fogged, heavy precursor to sleep and your hand fumbles from beneath the covers to grab the receiver. The cord bounces clumsily against your nightstand and nudges the blush-colored conch shell that lives there.

“Hello...?”

“Darling, there’s an emergency.”

You bolt upright in bed. “What happened? Are you okay? Is the band—?”

“There’s going to be a party on New Year’s Eve and you have to come.”

You groan and fall back into the embankment of pillows. “Fred, that’s not an emergency. Jesus christ. I thought someone died.”

“Then you should be overwhelmed with gratitude for your friends’ continued existence and delighted to join us!”

You glance at the calendar tacked to your wall. “That’s tomorrow, right?”

Freddie scoffs. “Of course it’s tomorrow! Some bloke from the record company is hosting and I need a date. Makes me more marketable or something. Mary can’t come, she’s got the flu. So you’ll have to take one for the team and play the adoring paramour. Shouldn’t be too heavy a lift. I’ve been informed that I’m very adorable.”

“Make Roger do it.”

There’s an edge to Freddie’s voice when he speaks. “They aren’t quite that progressive, dear.”

“I’m really more of a museums and restaurants person than a getting coerced into socializing with strangers person, if I’m being completely honest with you.”

“You’ll survive,” he replies brusquely. “Chrissie and Brian will be there. You’ll have fellow boring people to hide in a corner and eat biscuits with and discuss planetary movements or whatever the fuck.”

“Great. Roger and John are coming too?”

“Not Deaky. He already has plans with Veronica’s family and can’t weasel out of them. It’s not like he would schmooze anyone anyway.”

“Oh.” That disappoints you, more than you thought it could. “Maybe I have plans I can’t weasel out of, ever think of that?”

Now Freddie sounds amused. “You don’t.”

“How do you know?”

He laughs. “Because there’s no one you love in London more than us.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The paramour ruse doesn’t go very well; within twelve minutes Freddie has abandoned you and is guzzling martinis with Elton John and some record company guys you don’t recognize, pointy party hats on their heads and silver balloons bobbing against the ceiling. It’s not 1975 yet, but it will be soon. The mansion is decked with suits and ballgowns and expensive-looking vases perched precariously on end tables. Elegant white columns rim the vast living room. You, Brian, Chrissie, and Roger are chatting nervously by a massive punch bowl carved in ice, swiping appetizers off the waiters’ trays and trying not to break anything.

“I feel completely useless,” you say, nodding to Freddie.

Chrissie chuckles. “I think he just wanted you to be here. He thinks you’re good luck, you know. All our fates turned around when you showed up.”

Roger points at you with his punch glass. “Your people specialize in witchcraft, don’t they?”

“Oh, so close. That’s Salem, about thirty minutes up the road. No witches in Boston.”

“Hmm. Sounds like something a secret witch would say.”

You brandish your hand through the air. “I summon more mini crab cakes.”

The others glance around. “It didn’t work,” Chrissie observes sadly.

Brian sips his punch, which is bubbling and a vivid red. “Maybe you have to invoke Satan first. I saw a toy poodle on the couch you could sacrifice.”

“Yes, yes,” Roger agrees. “Just toss it in the oven and see if anyone notices.”

You throw your head back and laugh. “Now that would make a fantastic impression.”

Roger grabs your empty glass, plops it on a passing waiter’s tray, and takes your hands in his. They’re rough and strong, and they feel a little too good. “Alright, are you going to dance with me now?”

“Roger...”

“Don’t harass her,” Chrissie warns. “She’s here, she’s working on conjuring more snacks, she’s under no obligation to dance with you on top of all that.”

He frowns at you, those intense blue eyes bright beneath shagging bangs. “Really?”

You smile, reaching up to straighten the collar of his sparking rainbow jacket. “If you’re still interested in 1975, you can ask me then.”

“Yes ma’am.” He grins triumphantly at Chrissie, and she smirks back. “Can someone kindly tell me what that clock over on the mantle says? Obviously I can’t see that far.”

“11:19,” Brian says.

“Fantastic. I’ll be back.” He winks at you, then looks to Brian. “Stay with her, will you?”

“Sure.”

Roger lights a cigarette and saunters away, smoke drifting around him. Several young women—escorts or daughters of producers or soon-to-be-ex-girlfriends of musicians—descend upon him and start asking about Killer Queen. Roger is radiant when he replies, enchanting, wearing charisma like a snake’s skin, climbing ever onwards up the rungs of the social ladder; and you think about how there’s Home Roger and Tour Roger—though he felt like home in Boston, and though he feels so distant now—and how any woman who chooses him will have to spend her life watching him devour other people’s love from across the room, from across the world.

“Be careful,” Chrissie tells you softly.

“He won’t be back at midnight.” You pour yourself a fresh glass of punch, avoiding her eyes, hiding your disappointment...or, embarrassingly and infinitely worse, perhaps your hope. “They’ve been staring at him all night. And he’s noticed.”

“Oh, honey...” Chrissie rubs your bare shoulder, not knowing what else to say.

“It’s fine,” you tell her. And you plan to drink until it feels like it is.

Some guitarist from Genesis appears to introduce himself to Brian, and Bri leaps into a fevered discussion of how much he admires the band’s work and how he built his Red Special and the merits of guitar techniques that sound like Russian or Japanese to you. Before you know it, the mysterious Genesis man is hauling Brian off to present him to someone equally important. Chrissie shoots a worried glimpse at you as she follows Bri away.

“Go!” you insist, forcing a smile. Just abandon me in this super intimidating mansion full of rich important strangers and breakable museum artifacts, that’s totally cool.

“We’ll be back in five minutes, I swear.”

You wave cheerfully. “Take your time!” You peer at the clock. Thirty minutes until midnight.

As you’re dishing yourself yet another glass of punch, a man in a posh white suit approaches from the other side of the table. “Are you hiding from people as well?”

“Not too successfully, apparently.”

He recoils and raises his eyebrows. “My apologies. Want me to disappear?”

You almost say yes—it wobbles on your lips like an unsteady toddler—then you reconsider. He’s tall and blond and polished; he looks a bit like Roger from an alternate universe where Rog went to boarding school and plays polo. More significantly, he could be someone important, someone the band needs, someone you don’t want to offend. “No, I’m sorry, that was so impolite. Please forgive me. My judgment is quite impaired, that’s my excuse, I blame the punch. Also I’m a New Englander and thus inclined to be uncooperative towards Brits.”

He laughs, a full genuine laugh; and it feels like a victory. See? I’m clever, I’m charming. Anyone would be lucky to have me. “I’m Eric.”

“Y/N.”

“It’s a resounding pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” He gestures towards the open area on the floor where buzzed men and giggling women are tripping over each other. “There’s no way I could interest you in that, is there?”

You ponder it, nursing your fourth punch. You aren’t much of a dancer, that’s true; and this handsome stranger of a man isn’t Roger. But he might be able to get your mind off him.

You sling back the rest of your punch and slam the glass down onto the table. “Okay. But only because there’s an Eagles record on.”

“Deal.”

He follows you to the dance floor, weaves his fingers through yours, sways easily with the music. Eric tells you that he’s from up north, in the Lake District; his family owns an estate that used to be the seat of an earldom or something. He describes endless emerald hills and castles and horse farms until your mind starts to swim, until the effects of the punch and scant appetizers roll over you like a wave.

“Okay,” you announce dreamily. “Thank you so much, Eric. This has been lovely. But I have to go sit down now.”

“Oh come on, one more song!”

“I’m flattered, but I have to pass. Maybe after midnight...” You move to pull your hands away, but he doesn’t let go. His fingers are locked with yours. You try again. Eric’s still smiling, but his eyes have gone flinty. Oh no. You look around for Freddie or Brian, both of whom have vanished.

“One more, come on,” he presses. “I insist.”

“Eric, I’m really dizzy—”

“Don’t be rude. We’re having such a nice time, aren’t we?”

“Please let go of me.” You try to keep your voice level, try not to offend him. Everyone around you on the dance floor is laughing and drinking and smoking, not paying any attention at all.

“Look, you said you’d dance, so that’s what we’re doing. Am I suddenly not good enough for you?”

“Seriously, you need to let go.” You try to tug your hands away. Your heart is racing, blood rushing in your ears. The room is listing to the right, now the left. You realize that Eric is gradually leading you away from the center of the room and towards a quiet hallway. I can’t let this guy get me alone. I’m weak and I’m drunk, and I don’t know what he’ll do to me. You struggle harder, more visibly. His grip on your hands tightens. “Let go, Eric, let go of me!”

“Calm down, bloody hell lady, I’m just trying to—”

And then Eric is ripped away from you and his face smashed with vicious force into the nearest column. You scream, your hands covering your gaping mouth; the room goes silent. Eric crumples to the floor, unconscious. Blood pours from his broken nose and litters his white suit with crimson blotches and smears. Droplets drip crawlingly down the column. Roger stands over Eric, shirt completely unbuttoned, jacket rumpled, shadows of lipstick peppering his neck and chest. He wipes his own palms on his rainbow jacket, scowling, disgusted. Then he turns to you.

“Ready to go?”

“Roger, I...” You gaze in shock down at Eric. I hope he’s not dead. That might make things awkward with the record company. “I-I-I’m so sorry,” you manage finally. “I’m sorry, Roger, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything—”

“No, I’m ready to go.” He lays his hand on the small of your back and guides you towards the front door, grabbing both of your coats off the rack. “Let’s go.”

“Okay.” And relief floods through you. Okay.

Brian pushes his way out of the stunned crowd as Roger swings the door open. Frigid air skates over your cheeks. “Rog, what happened?!”

Roger glares savagely. “When I tell you to stay with someone, you fucking stay with them.” And then he steps with you out into the bitterly cold, nearly-January night.

“It’s not his fault,” you explain as you and Roger hurry down the sidewalk, your words spinning mist into the air. “Some guy from Genesis showed up and you know how Bri is about them, and I told him and Chris to go, please don’t be mad—”

“Are you alright?” He’s scrutinizing you closely; you can still see the rosy lipstick stains on his skin as you pass beneath each streetlight.

“I’m fine, I’m completely fine. Please don’t be mad.”

He narrows his eyes. “Well obviously I’m not mad at you, babe.”

“Oh god, I hope this doesn’t hurt the band. I don’t know who that guy was with. You broke his nose, you know.”

“Good.”

You shake your head, trying to chase away those ghosts of lipstick and the girls who left them there. I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him. “I know you were busy, I know the party was important, I know I ruined midnight for you—”

“You didn’t ruin it. We still have a few more minutes. We’ll duck into a pub somewhere and have a pint to welcome in the new year, it’ll be grand. Maybe get you some food. You look like you could use it.”

“I just...” You bury your numb, shaking hands in your coat pockets and brace yourself against the cold. “You left the girls. Left the party. I just don’t understand why you would do that.”

“Are you serious? Obviously I’m going to drop everything if you need me. I’m always going to do that.” He pulls his fiery red, hand-knit hat out of his coat pocket and slips it over your wild, windswept hair. “You’re still on my list, you know.”

You sigh. “You’re a smart man, Roger Taylor, but that’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.”

“What,” he says, a tad bitingly. “Because I can’t promise you a picket fence and precisely two well-mannered, unremarkable children and a golden retriever? You’re right, I’m not going to promise you that. Because that’s not who I am. That’s not who you are either, by the way. But I can promise you that your life will never feel like a cage. And isn’t that what this was all about for you anyway?”

And that stops you, here in the cold dark heart of London, here beneath a cascading streetlight on the opening page of 1975. Because Roger’s right.

He takes your left hand and lifts it to his lips, and you know exactly what he’s going to do even before he oh-so-feather-lightly bites your goosebumped knuckles. “Look, forget about it. Don’t worry. Don’t freak yourself out. We’ll get a drink, we’ll watch the fireworks, and then I’ll walk you home. No questions, no answers. You just let me know if you ever change your mind, okay?”

You watch Roger, his cheeks ruddy from the wind, halos of streetlights reflected in his eyes. And you echo: “Okay.”

#queen fanfic #queen fic #roger taylor fic #roger taylor x reader #but you can never leave fic #but you can never leave series #but you can never leave #queen #fanfic

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imaginesbymk · 4 years

Text

PINK + WHITE.

— CHAPTER FOUR ; COSA NOSTRA.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta.

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags: s4 spoilers, alcohol, implied nsfw

[ chapter index / meet my oc / wattpad link ]

INKBERROW HOTEL

STRATFORD-UPON-AVON

LUCA heavily sighed and muttered something Italian under his breath. His first meeting with Alfie Solomons was gonna happen in a couple hours. To his understanding from anyone he's gone to, he was told how unpredictable and clever Alfie was. He was a bullet, and Luca rubbed the bridge of his nose just thinking about the fact that he has to brace for a headache.

He sat silently. Just like Tommy, all his research and plans mapped out were scattered across his desk. Staring at the unlit fireplace in the sitting room, he hears both a knock and a small English voice grab his attention from the other side of giant, heavy front door. Luca gets up to answer it, to find the maid that served him tea and biscuits smile sweetly at him.

"You have guests."

They walk in and the maid leaves. The henchman had their fair share of matching overcoats and hats since they began working for the Changretta family. Luca's cousin Matteo, being one of them, was one of the first to already push Luca's buttons when he stood in front of the desk.

"I will mop the floor with your face if you don't fix that frown," Luca held up a warning finger, speaking to him like a parent disciplining their child.

"Noi perso Frederico," Matteo spoke. The other henchman next to him was still part of them, but after being shot by Tommy Shelby during the shootout the other day, his spirit crushed.

"You think I'm not upset about that?" Luca pulled out the match from the tray and placed it in his mouth. "They've now killed five of our men, Matteo. Five."

Matteo looked down and Luca sighs. "Aw, come on. You even complained about Spotted Dick. It's pudding, it ain't so bad. You've hated everything here that moves. You carry the same attitude from four years back. We had some decent pleasure in Britain. You know, the wedding? Il vino di cugino nostra? The art gallery. . ." Luca slowly played with the match gripped by his teeth. "I met a woman there."

And what more than Luca not recalling her, too?

Luca got back up and walked him and his men over to the sitting area. He sat on the sofa while Matteo and the other man sat opposite him on the chairs.

"Will you be seeing her again?" he asks.

Luca knew exactly who he was referring to, and shook his head, fairly certain there wasn't a chance something like that would happen. "Penarth is miles away from where we are, Matteo."

"Vai a vederla," the other henchman suggests. "You know, mentre siamo qui?"

"And tell her what?" Luca says. "'Hello old lover, sorry for just walking out on you like that, but I'm here now! Let's wolf down some gin and fuck on my desk?'"

They both shrugged and looked down, not really knowing what else to say to continue on with that subject.

Luca leaned back in the sofa. "We're here for business, for loose ends that need a tight knot on. This isn't a field trip, an excursion for that matter."

However, Luca wished it wasn't for anything like that. He dreaded the day more family of his that were dear to his heart, people he loved and respected deeply, would slip right out of his hands. After hearing about his brother Angel it was enough to mourn over. But hearing his mother break down in front of him revealing his father's assassination afterwards, nearly shut him down.

Blood before all.

"She's from the past. It don't matter no more." 1919-1920

SOMEWHERE in Birmingham, Luca came from New York to be best man at his cousin's wedding. England wasn't his ideal place to stay, though, as he loved the New York air, there were more buildings with shining lights and taxis, and people being as upbeat and chaotic well suited his preference. But he showed honor and love for his cousin, and he wouldn't say no.

He came before meeting Teresa, of course. And as promised, he took her out to see a show, as he mentioned how he was a lover of theater. Their first date went smoothly as he thought, and kept stealing glances from her that night.

They went on their second date to one of the finest restaurants in Birmingham. He requested a bottle of champagne and two gourmet dishes at their reserved table. He was annoyed but not surprised there were no Italian cuisines known in that area, but it was better than not treating her to the fancy, luxurious lifestyle he was born into.

When Teresa was a Peaky Blinder, it was way before the Shelbys expanded into more fine houses to relax in. They lived in Small Heath, of course, and their neighborhood was spread with filth. But it was home.

Teresa therefore never got to experience the wealth and glory once Tommy established the Shelby Company Limited, even before the high ranking members could save so much to spoil themselves too. Teresa was long gone before that, but she built her own empire, and it all started with art, art that she now thought of selling and upgrading, according to Luca's "constructive criticism."

That was when Luca had to ask, now that he was staying in Birmingham for awhile now. "My cousin is getting married on Saturday. I'm gonna be his best man."

"That's amazing, Luca. Tell him and his bride my congrats," she smiles brightly.

"You can be there to tell them that, y'know?"

She took a sip of her champagne. "Mm?"

Luca leaned forward. "I want you to be my plus one at my cousin's wedding."

Teresa nearly choked on her drink. "A-are you sure?"

"I'm never unsure, Teresa. But you seem to be."

"It's just . . . we still don't know each other that well for me to meet your family."

"And? People bring dates all the time, even if they've known each other for half a day. I know you warned me that I would grow bored of you, but here we are on our second date. We have the best table arranged for us, champagne, filet mignon," Luca smirked a bit. "I haven't even kissed you yet."

She chuckles. "You're right. I just hope your family likes me." She took that as a joke, but Luca already switched to being dead serious.

"Well, I don't wanna scare you, but you're gonna have to make yourself likeable for my family. They're what you call . . ." he trails off, waving his hand.

"Judgmental?" Teresa asks.

"They're gonna ask about you like it's an interview. They're gonna do research, find out what you do, what you like, whether or not you've done anything bad."

Shit. Her throat hit a lump. Now what would The Changrettas' reaction be if they found out Teresa was a Peaky Blinder? Forbid Luca at his big age from seeing her again? Condemn her? Blackmail her into hiding? But fuck it, she thought. Teresa really liked Luca so far, and she wasn't gonna let her past ruin her future. "We shouldn't have a problem with that, then."

When Luca's chauffeur pulled up at Teresa's home, he looked around the neighborhood. The night of their first date, Luca planted a kiss on Teresa's cheek before letting her go into the house. Her business wasn't enough for her to own a manor, so Teresa was living in a townhouse in a neighborhood with drunks and escorts that come and go. It didn't differ much from his home, yet he winced at the sight of it.

She came out the door wearing a sparkly dress that lowered down to her knees, height a bit taller from the heels she picked out, and her hair was in the curls most women were styling theirs as. Through the filth of their surroundings, Luca saw an angel.

Teresa joined the applause after the bride and groom shared their kiss. All the families and friends cheered, some chanting Italian at them and she smiled at Luca who proudly stood at the altar with the groomsmen and bridesmaids. It wasn't until the time to take a family photo, and Teresa stood on the side and watched them.

"Do you know the bride?" an old man approached Teresa.

"I'm here with the best man."

"You know my son?" Her heart rate increases a bit. It was Luca's father, Vicente.

She nods. "Yes. I—"

"Papa," the family was done taking their photo and Luca hopped off the steps to introduce her. "It was probably better to introduce you to everyone before I could run off and do wedding stuff. Padre, questa è Teresa Griffith. Lavora come art director, a Penarth."

Vicente Changretta kisses her on both cheeks. "Then you must meet my wife, Audrey."

Luca's mother stared at Teresa while she sat next to where Luca was supposed to be sitting at the wedding dinner. In fact, some of the guests were staring at her, too, not recognizing her as they were observing her looks. Not that it was a bad thing, it was just intriguing. She was the only non Italian-American at the wedding, and Luca only introduced her to his parents.

Teresa smiled and nodded politely when she made eye contact with anyone as she tried sipping her drink to avoid any embarrassment. She breathes in relief when Luca sat back down. "That speech you made. It was beautiful, Luca."

"Thank you," he mutters, taking his wine glass. "Even though it was all in Italian."

She chuckles, still feeling the looks some of the guests shot at her. She quietly spoke to Luca while avoiding eye contact. "People are staring at me. Is it my dress? Do I have bad taste?"

"Sei bellisima," Luca compliments. "They're just curious about you, that's all. Why, do you feel intimidated?"

"Not at all."

"Well," Luca's raspy voice lowered but loud enough for Teresa to hear him say, "you should be."

Teresa stared at him, feeling tensed. "Why is that?"

He sipped his wine."Because we're dangerous people."

Teresa was no stranger to words like that, she wasn't new to running into people who consider themselves "dangerous". The Peaky Blinders were in fact dangerous people who did dangerous deeds. But this was Luca, and that would mean—

"Blood before all." Luca stood up before Teresa could question him and he raised a toast in Italian, everyone following.

Once they finished their meal there was time left for dancing and drinking. Teresa once again kept quiet, trying to stick with Luca the entire time and avoid losing him to a crowd or a relative speaking to him. There really was nothing else she could do besides drink silently and listen to Luca speak in his native tongue.

That was when Mrs. Changretta walked up to them. "Slow down on the wine, amore mio."

Luca obeyed. "Yes, Mamma."

"And Teresa, you've been glued to my son all night," Audrey says. "I hope everything is all right with you. Have you tried the risotto?"

"Oh yes, it was delicious," Teresa smiles, seeing Luca walk off with Matteo. She was left alone to talk to his mother.

"That's good. It's an Italian recipe. Very popular. Luca tells me that you own a gallery?"

"I work as the art director in the Penarth Art Gallery."

Audrey nodded. "You were a good student to own a business?"

"I got good grades here and there."

"That's lovely. I worked as a teacher, taught two little boys how to read. Now they're all grown up and they wear caps and carry guns around. I am sure their names would sound familiar to you, Teresa? John and Arthur Shelby."

And just like that, Teresa's skin turned cold. Of course, someone like Luca's own mother would be one step ahead to dig deep into Teresa's past and bring up the two reckless men that did the most of violence and crime. She hasn't seen or spoke to either of them ever since she resigned, and hearing someone mention a Shelby made her skin crawl.

This was exactly what Luca had warned her about. Be likeable.

"I worked with them. But that was way before I moved back to Wales. Mrs. Changretta, I hold no ill-intent on your son. I respect him. I would never do anything to harm him."

"My husband told me the Peaky Blinders were the ones who killed Billy Kimber."

"That was before I resigned. I wasn't there to see it happen. Who I once was is now in the past. I grew out of that life. Holding a gun would feel so new to me."

Was that enough? Was that an okay response? Audrey stared at her. "I don't blame you for leaving the Peaky Blinders, Teresa. But we do happen to be just like them, you know? So think about how you are spending your leisure with my son."

Teresa furrowed a brow. "In what way?"

Mrs. Changretta took a step closer and smiled at her. "We're a tight family. In New York we deal with what you once dealt it, and we play with the big kids." She squeezes her hand and walks off.

Cosa Nostra.

Of course. Teresa felt like slapping her forehead for not having the slightest idea sooner. She felt completely stupid for not seeing the signs; the way Luca behaved when they first met, the way they dressed, their mannerisms, everything. It gave off the whole idea clear as day. It was no wonder his family didn't welcome her so much.

She stood stiff in her spot, no sign of Luca anywhere to come back to speak to her again. But did that even matter anymore? If Mrs. Changretta knew already, that meant Vicente knew, too. Even Luca. She had to assume Luca would be a leader, then. She squeezed her eyes shut just imagining him as part of the New York mafia, holding a Thompson gun, one day going against the Peaky Blinders . . .

Teresa felt like she was set up for this to humiliate her. Without even being armed, walking out without saying anything could cause suspicion. Teresa took a seat at the bar, and stared at her glass.

Luca came back minutes after, they both knew exactly what was on each other's minds. "How could you have not known I'm part of a Sicilian mob based in New York?"

Teresa shrugged.

"Couldn't you tell when we first met? Not even Matteo or Frederico gave you the hint?"

"I thought you were planning on robbing my art gallery like a bunch of amateurs."

"Of course, you were a Peaky Blinder. Heard those clowns killed Billy fuckin' Kimber," Luca took a seat next to her.

She nodded. "Yep. That's them, that was before I resigned. I couldn't take it anymore, but the people they go neck to neck with would contact me nonstop, my name comes out of their mouths, they threatened to kill me, so I left for Penarth.".

"So, you are intimidated by us," Luca says.

"I'm not judging you for being a mafioso, but I don't feel like I've been approved by your family."

"I let my family voice their opinions, but they like you so far. Leaving would ruin that." Luca and Teresa both get up. "My mother likes you. That's a rewarding milestone."

"Your family would find it hard to trust me, and I know they would do something about it."

Luca shook his head while drinking the last of what was in his glass. "I mean I did warn you, we are dangerous people."

Shrugging, Teresa put her hand to stroke his cheek. "Yet I'm still here."

As she should.

"You . . . are definitely not boring, Miss Griffith," he grinned down at her. "You ever held a Thompson gun before?"

"No, but I would love to one day. We can protect each other."

"I thought you couldn't handle the crime life anymore? You can trust me. Nothing won't happen to me." He started pulling her closer to him so that his arm was wrapped around her back.

She shakes her head. "You have signore tuo to protect you. And your Tommy gun."

"E Signore mio mi ha mandato angelo custode mio."

"What does that mean?"

Luca let his free hand lift her chin. "God sent me my guardian angel."

As the band's music grew loud on stage, he was able to lean down and let the alcohol push him forward for the kiss. And he allowed it. Teresa took in the moment when the kiss deepened. It was divine and satisfying, like her favourite painter blending colours on a dry canvas.

•••

From all the noise they both made, they were sure the people staying next door could hear them loud and clear, grimacing at the sound of the bed banging against the wall of the room, but it didn't matter anymore.

Letting out a heavy breath, Teresa relaxed her body when Luca came to rest beside her when they were done. Back in America, Luca had his fair share with women and always charmed his way into getting them to spend time with him and his men. It always included going to speakeasies to drink and party at night, enjoying the city lights in New York.

But when it was Teresa in bed with him in uptown England, she felt free even though she was on her back with Luca leaning over her. Despite how he was so experienced with intimacy, everything felt so new, and it felt right when he looked into her eyes.

The wedding night felt euphoric, and it wasn't even them who got married.

Luca and his men head out the door, ready to meet up with Alfie Solomons in his distillery. He was conflicted. Did he miss her? Did he want to miss her? He tosses the match from his mouth into the disposable bin on the way out.

Does he have any idea that she was already aware he was back?

#please reblog!!!#likes + comments greatly appreciated!!!#pink+white #luca changretta #tommy shelby #luca changretta fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfic

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otome0heart · 4 years

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[Fanfic] Music of the Heart (Victor)

The miracle happened and I managed to finish Victor’s BD fanfic a month later *headdesk* I wanted to write something for Valentine’s Day but... maybe later... I have a few days off at the end of the month because of local festivities and maybe I’ll be able to produce something. I hope you enjoy this late gift for our beloved CEO ^^

Title: Music of the Heart

Genre: Romance

Words: 6061

Notes: This story is very musical, there are four different pieces scattered through it. I’ll leave you the links in case you want to play them while you read, or want to listen to them in the musical part of the story :) They go in order:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZARU_PNizc (this is a tutorial, so maybe you want to skip until they start playing).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ryUG57yUQI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1prweT95Mo0

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qrKjywjo7Q

Also, sorry for my maybe-not-very-accurate music vocabulary, I tried to look for them in different dictionaries but if I got any of them mistaken, please point it out so I can correct it. And now, with no more delay...

MUSIC OF THE HEART

As the last musical notes faded in the emptiness of the bedroom, the young woman sighed relieved, though not as satisfied as she had expected. She still failed at reaching the highest notes correctly and was still insecure in a passage, even though the melody in her mind sounded perfect. However, as she verified looking at a nearby clock, there was no time for another rehearsal if she wanted to have everything ready on time. And she was sure that she would not have even an extra second, knowing him.

She left the cello on its stand, picked up the partiture and put it on the shelf next to her. Then, with great care, she placed the bow and her beloved instrument inside their case, making sure that everything was perfectly secured before closing it. And then, she ran to the bathroom to have a quick shower.

Being Victor's birthday so close to Christmas made the task of finding a present for him even more difficult than it already was. After walking in and out of shopping centres and exclusive shops for several days, she had almost given up. It seemed impossible to buy something for a man that had everything, and who could afford whatever he desired at the moment he wished for it.

And then, it had hit her as she was curling up in the sofa, drinking some hot tea before bed, her eyes wandering around the room while thinking of his gift until they fell on her cello. She had smiled as she left her cup on a low table and stood up, walking silently to the corner of the room by the window. If there was not anything material she could give him, then, she could present him with something that she knew he would appreciate. He had always been fond of classical music and even had a piano at home, though he did not play very well. It was only recently that he had allowed her to teach him a little, revealing to her in the process small pieces of his memories with his mother as they played together, and she could see that music really meant much more for him than just an entertainment.

However, as strange as it seemed, he had never heard her play the cello. When he had been in her home, he had glanced curiously at the instrument perfectly set on its stand a few times, but had never asked her about it.

And then, she had gone on the quest to find the perfect piece. In the end, she had chosen two, but after thinking carefully about it while she was under the shower, she had decided to play only one. She would make up for it by playing a few more songs on the piano.

She came out of the bathroom and, with her hair still wrapped in a towel, she started to dress in the elegant clothes she had prepared beforehand. It did not matter that the concert she had planned was short or that it would be celebrated in his house, Victor would never overlook that she was not wearing the appropriate garments, and the last thing she wanted was to hear a remark about it. Besides, she liked to dress smartly now and then, and most of the times that they could squeeze a date in their busy schedules, he usually picked her up from her workplace, so she did not have time to refresh herself, wear pretty clothes or comb her hair in a more mature style.

She watched herself in the mirror, as she used one last bobby pin in her updo and gave the last touches with the curling iron to the whisps of hair that framed her face. Then, she put on a pair of diamond earrings that Victor had given her for their first anniversary and her engagement ring on her left hand. She did not wear it frequently, since one of her greatest fears was to lose it while running around in a filming location, and after a few arguments with him, her fiancé had resigned himself to seeing her ring finger bare most of the time they were together.

She could not help blushing as she gazed at it fondly, remembering that special moment. There had not been a great display of his wealth or an extravagant setting. Despite being a public figure, Victor was also very private, and even though he had not said anything about it, she was sure that the last thing he had wanted was to see their special moment in a photo on the cover of a gossip magazine or on a TV programme.

There had not been any grand gesture either. After finishing successfully a long tiring project, he had taken her to Paris for a short holiday and while they had dinner in their hotel suite, under the candlelight, he had taken her hand on the table and had asked her to allow him to be part of her life forever.

None had prepared her for that and tears of incredulity and happiness had slid down her cheeks, unsettling him with the thought of a refusal. Once she had taken him out of his mistake, he had shown her the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. Made of platinum, it had a beautiful oval diamond in the centre, framed by a milgrain and bead set halo. The band also had three small diamonds on each side. As he put it on her finger, he told her that it had been his late mother's ring and that he was sure that she would be proud of her wearing it. That had made her cry harder but this time, Victor had kissed her tears away with such tenderness in his eyes and his features that she had blurted out her deep feelings for him, overwhelmed by so many emotions. His response in kind, as he had leant his forehead on hers with a soft smile gracing his lips, was deeply engraved in her heart and mind, as it had been the first time she had heard those words from him. He had always been a man who showed his affection with actions but he seemed to know how much it had meant for her and had chosen the perfect moment to do it.

With a deep breath, she brought herself back from her memories and brushed the wetness in her lashes that threatened to ruin her make up. Turning around, she checked once again the contents in her handbag and picked up her coat. Then, walking to where she had left her cello, she adjusted it to her back and, with a last look at her apartment, she picked up a paper bag and walked to the door.

Victor closed the door of his house with a tired sigh. Nothing annoyed him more than an unscheduled meeting that ruined his already set plans. Not that his birthday had a special meaning for him, but since his path had crossed with a certain silly girl, her childish enthusiasm for little unimportant things had permeated his pragmatism and, even though he still saw some of her ideas half-baked, he enjoyed seeing her wide smile and her eyes shining with delight. He was probably spoiling her a bit too much but he liked the feelings it awoke in him.

The first thing he had seen when he had woken up for his morning jog was her birthday greeting on his smartphone, sent exactly at midnight, the message so filled with happy faces and celebration emoticons that he could not help a smile gracing his lips. She was an idiot for being awake until so late on a working day but also, he knew deep inside that he had expected nothing less from her. Her second message showed her disappointment for not being able to meet him, also accompanied by cascade-crying little yellow emojis. After a brief answer, he had kept on going with his day with the idea of inviting her to Souvenir for dinner once he made sure her schedule allowed it. That was until a sudden fluctuation in the American stock market which affected some of his investments had put paid to his intentions.

However, he would make sure to clear his schedule on Saturday to let her do as she pleased, as he was sure she already had a plan for him in her mind.

A soft rustle stopped his arm on his way to turn on the lights and put all his senses on alert, and he scanned his living room in the darkness. In the faint light that entered through the window at the back and the ones on the first floor, nothing seemed out of the ordinary even though he was really sure of what he had heard. And suddenly, an idea, a really silly one, came to his mind, and he turned on the lights.

The cheerful melody of the Happy Birthday song reached his ears and his eyes fell on his fiancée, sitting at the far end of the room, playing the beautiful white grand piano he kept there. He moved his head while a small smile played on his lips. He should have guessed that she would never let his birthday pass with just something as simple as a birthday greeting.

She met his eyes briefly and a big grin appeared on her mouth. Her dexterous fingers were playing an arrangement of the song a little slower than usual and filled with harmonies that made it sound richer and a bit less childish.

Victor put one of his hands in the pocket of his coat while balancing his briefcase in the other, waiting for her to finish to remove them and approach her. However, when the music ended, she was the one to stand up and walk to him, her fingers laced on her front and her cheeks flushed with excitement and, he guessed, a bit of embarrassment.

He had to say that she was especially beautiful that night. She had combed her hair in an elegant bun, decorated with some crystal pins in the shape of small roses. She was wearing black trousers, black mary-jane shoes and a black lace blouse with slightly puffy sleeves and a round neck that accentuated her fair skin. Her make up was also more defined than usual, which made her eyes bigger and her features slightly more mature.

“Happy birthday!” the young woman exclaimed when she stopped in front of him.

“You couldn't let it pass, could you?” he replied as he took off his coat and scarf.

“Never.”

She took his garments from him and went to the wardrobe in the hall to hang them neatly, humming softly. He chuckled silently and then, putting his hands on his waist, he looked around.

She had decorated his house too, as expected, though not as lavishly as other years. However, it seemed that she had gathered all the Christmas tree lights she had been able to, since everything, from the railing of the staircase to the mirror above the fireplace was decorated with flickering little bulbs which she had turned on at some point after playing, without him noticing. Also, there were some wreaths made of hand-made paper flowers and snowflakes hanging from the edge of the mantel shelf of the fireplace and the pictures on each side of it, making him wonder how she had managed to reach such height without any help.

“Do you like it?” she had stopped behind him and was lowering the intensity of the light of the big lamp which hung from the ceiling with the switch, so he could appreciate the colourful fairy lights better.

“It could be worse” she pouted slightly and he had to hold the smile that threatened to appear on his face. “When did you have time to do all this?” he walked into the living room and brushed with his fingers a small snowflake that hung from a bell jar which covered a wreath of lights shaped as roses in what seemed a makeshift lamp.

A soft blush covered her cheeks.

“Well, when I could take some short breaks at work and also-”

“You didn't cut short your sleeping hours, did you?”

The heat on her face became more intense and her eyes wandered around the room and he furrowed his brows, a bit annoyed.

“You know it's very important to rest properly to be in full shape the following day.”

“Yes, and I did it. I worked properly on the projects too... I just wanted to make you happy.

Victor sighed and then, lifted his hand to pat her head softly.

“I understand” she met his gaze with a smile. “But it also makes me happy that you take good care of yourself.”

She nodded and his frown disappeared. Then, he looked at his watch.

“I don't know if we'll be able to find an open place to have dinner, and if we go to Souvenir...”

“Don't worry about that” she grinned and put her hands behind her. “I made a cake so, if you brew some tea, we can have that.”

He shook his head.

“Not a very good choice for a night meal...”

“Oh, come on” she grabbed his hand and started walking to the kitchen, pulling him along. “Once a year isn't going to be so bad.”

Victor grumbled a little before taking a kettle out and filling it with water. When he turned, his fiancée was leaning on the counter, watching him with a bemused smile.

“You could make yourself useful instead of just staring at me” he opened a cabinet and took out two plates and two cups. “You like doing that too much.”

She giggled as she took the individual tablecloths with winter motives and the tableware he gave her and with a soft humming, she went to the living room. He chuckled, moving his head, and turned to another cupboard, where he kept different blends of tea.

After choosing a specific Oolong one which could go well with sweets, he realised she had not gone back to the kitchen. A second later, as he was ready to admonish her for skipping her helping duty, the sound of a melody played on the piano stopped him on his tracks.

The opening tune of Salut d'Amour, soft and sweet, made his heart flutter, knowing immediately how much of her affection for him was being poured into every note. The tempo was faster than in other versions he had heard before, probably because of her excitement at the moment, but it sounded beautiful. The temptation of getting nearer, of watching her as she played was almost overwhelming, and he lowered the fire in the stove so the water could take longer to boil and the kettle would not make any noise to disturb that precious moment. Silently, he walked to the living room and stayed half hidden by the staircase, watching her.

Despite her expressiveness in other aspects of her life, her movements as her hands danced over the keyboard, reaching for further keys when necessary, were exquisite, far from the exaggerated ones of some musicians. Without any effort, he could picture her eager expression and the small smile that unconsciously played on her lips every single time she played, and that made the corners of his mouth lift slightly.

As the piece reached its central part, the fleeting thought of that being their life together once they got married crossed his mind. The idea of her constant presence in his mornings and nights, filling each corner of his house and his existence with her smiles, her warmth, her music, only made him wish the day would arrive sooner. However, the preparations were going slower than he desired since it was her wish not to leave everything to the wedding planner, but up to that moment, their schedules had been packed with meetings and projects.

He stayed until she got to the last strains of the melody and then, he returned to the kitchen silently. The music ended and shortly after, the young woman returned with a satisfied expression and humming softly. He did not say anything but the softness of his features and the flickering in his pupils as he briefly glanced at her while he prepared the teapot was enough for her to know that he had enjoyed her performance.

She had barely reached the drawer where the napkins were when he spoke.

“Had you been waiting for long when I arrived?”

The first thing that crossed her mind was to tell a white lie, but Victor would see through it immediately.

“Well, yes... I had checked with Goldman your schedule for today but when you didn't arrive by the time I was expecting you, I supposed something had come up at work... I hope it was nothing serious.”

He sighed and, at that moment, the kettle whistled and he turned off the stove.

“We had an unexpected meeting after some fluctuations in the American stock market. Fortunately, it was just a variation caused by some bad decisions, but nothing that some calls and a videoconference could not solve” he lifted his head to her as he poured the boiled water over a beautiful antique clay tea set which he liked to use on special occasions. “I apologise, if I had known-”

“It's not your fault, Victor” she smiled lovingly at him. “That's how work is, we both know it.”

He nodded as he carefully picked up the cups one by one. Then, she watched him go through the different steps of the ceremony with precision and meticulousness, as if she were an important guest to please and lavish.

“Are you free on Saturday?” he said once he finished, setting the set in a new tray, ready to take it to the living room while the beverage brewed in the teapot. “As compensation, I'll take you wherever you want.”

“I think that I only have some things to take care of early in the morning, but I'll check it tomorrow and call you” she approached him with a smile. “And now, go and sit down” she said as she pushed his back lightly.

He observed her suspiciously for a moment before turning around and disappearing into the next room.

The young woman took the cake from the fridge, delighted to see that the time it had been outside while she was waiting for him to arrive had not affected to its shape. She knew it was not perfect but she had spent the whole morning baking and frosting it and she hoped that it was edible according to Victor's standards. She opened the cupboard where he kept the biggest pots and extracted a small packet with candles she had hidden inside one of them. Then, she placed them carefully on the cake. Taking a deep breath, she picked it up from the counter and then, followed him.

Victor could not help a small, silent chuckle as he saw her approach carrying a big cake enough to feed half of her staff. She set it on the low table in front of him and his gaze fell on it. It was obvious that she had improved her cooking skills under his supervision during the years they had been together, though she still had a long way to go. The cake was a bit crooked, the frost decoration was irregular and a bit messy, and the message wishing him happy birthday seemed written by a five-year-old. However, her expectant face and sparkling eyes watching the candles as she lit them one by one made up for all that in his eyes. Nothing mattered to him more than her happiness.

She turned to him after putting the lighter she had brought from the kitchen on the tray, but before she could urge him, he closed his eyes making the same wish as every single previous birthday he had celebrated with her.

'I wish to make you happy, to spend my whole life beside you.'

It took him only a second and then, he blew the candles, opening his eyes. She rolled her eyes at his promptness, took a knife and gave it to him to cut the cake. A small smile played on his lips as he took it, remembering how she had made birthday wishes for him on the first one they had celebrated together and then, he had tricked her into telling him what they had been. Since that year, she had never talked about wishes after they had been made. Not that he would tell her them either. He handed her a plate with the first piece and then, he served one for himself and took a bite. He could feel her eyes on him as he savoured it, as if waiting for his verdict.

“Not bad” he said, and she furrowed her brows in a delicate frown; not wanting her to feel disappointed on such a special date, and sure that she had made a great effort, he continued. “The decoration is still sloppy and the chocolate frosting is slightly bitter so it clashes with the sweetness of the crème pâtissière. However, the sponge cake is soft and since it's just slightly sweet, it mixes perfectly with the flavour of the filling.”

She nodded and her lips pressed in a thin line, and he knew that his words had come across rightfully and she was already determined to make it better the next time.

They ate in silence, alternating the dessert with sips of the fragrant tea. He watched her wiping the chocolate from the cake, eating it in a big spoonful, and make a face at the bitter traces it surely had left on her tongue. Immediately, she picked up some cream and her expression changed into one of delight. He barely could contain the smile fighting to reach his lips and he took another bite to conceal it. He loved how each of her emotions showed on her face, how she was so predictable and at the same time, managed to surprise him every single time.

He politely refused a second serving and watched her as she cut another piece for herself much bigger than the first one, the comment dying on his lips as she made a soft sound of pleasure when the sweetness filled her mouth again. He rested his elbow on the back of the sofa, leaning his cheek on his palm, gazing at her tenderly, feeling infected by her joy.

With a satisfied sigh, the young woman left the plate on the table next to his and leant back, patting her stomach softly.

“One day, you're going to make yourself sick with so much food.”

She glanced at him smugly.

“I was hungry” she pursed her lips. “I didn't eat much for lunch and after I finished with the decorations, I didn't have any snacks thinking you'd arrive soon” his eyes wavered and she continued before he could speak. “And don't apologise.”

Victor held his gaze on her a bit more and then, he straightened, ready to tidy up the table.

“I'll do it.”

She stopped him putting a hand on his arm and then, she stood up, gathering the plates and cups and returning to the kitchen. A few seconds later, he heard the water running in his sink and the soft clink of the crockery being washed. He breathed deeply and then, leant back his head, staring at the ceiling.

It had been months since the last time he had been able to enjoy such peace in his own home. Most days, he came back just to go to bed, after working overtime or dinner appointments with clients, and when he could, he liked to take her to dates, or to Souvenir. On the scarce occasions he arrived early, he ended up reviewing documents or putting the last touches to a meeting. Enjoying a home-made meal not made by him next to her in a place where they could be themselves was like a luxury he could rarely afford.

“Tired?” her soft voice and the touch of her fingers on his arm took him out of his reverie.

His fiancée had sat down beside him and was looking at him with concerned eyes.

“A little” he turned his head to her and he saw her straighten, her hand leaving his shirt, and he hurried to hold it. “But I'm glad that you came...”

She settled back with a smile, her face taking on a lovely shade of pink. A comfortable silence settled around them, as they shared glances, and unconsciously, Victor started playing with the ring on her finger. It had made him extremely happy to see her wearing it. He understood her reasons for not doing it frequently, but that did not mean that he agreed with them. However, he had decided to respect her decision, especially knowing how much she valued that that jewel had belonged to his mother. His attention focused on his actions for a few seconds and then, he lifted her hand, kissing it reverently, making her heart flutter uncontrollably in her chest.

“We need to keep going with the preparations...”

A warm feeling spread inside her and she blushed lightly under his mauve gaze.

“I already cleared three days next week and made an appointment at a bridal shop.”

That made him smile.

“Do you need me to go with you?”

“Victor!” she furrowed her brows, indignant. “The groom can't see the bride before the wedding!”

He chuckled affectionately, lacing his fingers with hers and leaning forward. She met him halfway and the soft caress of their mouths soon deepened, seeking each other's warmth, getting closer as he wrapped his other arm around her shoulders and her hand brushed across his abdomen to circle his waist. The aftertaste of the cake was even more luscious in the other's lips and they enjoyed it slowly until they parted, almost out of breath, and he nuzzled her temple as she hid her face in the curve of his neck.

“I love you...” she whispered against his throat, and he pressed a kiss on her forehead, cradling her head and stroking her hair in a gesture full of affection.

She sighed happily, relaxing against him as he continued his ministrations, and soon, her lids grew heavier, nestled in his loving embrace.

Well,” he said, feeling the progressive lethargy taking ahold of her body and looking at his watch. “Tomorrow, you and I have work so I think it's time to drive you home-”

That woke her up instantly and she sprung from his arms, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Wait! I still haven't given you your present!”

He arched his brows, a bit surprised.

“I thought your present was the cake and you sneaking into my house to do as you pleased...”

“Stop teasing me...” she pulled a long face. “I wanted to give you something special...”

His eyes filled with tenderness as his hand came to rest on her cheek. How he wanted to say that her presence was more than enough present, that every single moment spent with her was special to him. That he considered a miracle having encountered her a second time in his life, and a privilege to be the recipient of her love.

At his touch, she lifted her head only to find him a breath away from her lips. His kiss, soft and sweet, was more eloquent than any of the words he had said before. She felt cherished and safe, and there was pure devotion in his pupils, as she saw herself reflected on them when they separated.

“Fine” he murmured, his breath caressing her skin softly.

The grin that appeared on her mouth was almost blinding, and Victor felt his heart skip a beat. Maybe it was true that birthday wishes became true...

“Now, cover your eyes. I want it to be a surprise.”

He sighed and then, humoring her, he crossed his arms on his chest and closed his lids. He heard her soft steps getting away and then, noises on the other side of the room, of pieces of furniture being moved. The sound of latches being opened and something metallic made him frown.

“I hope you're not making a mess of my house.”

“I'm not!” she replied defensively, looking at him. “And no peeking.”

He crossed his legs.

“I'm not.”

After a few more minutes and some more noise, everything went silent.

“You can look now.”

As he was opening his lids, he heard her breathe deeply and then, the first notes of the Prelude for Bach's Cello Suit started filling the room. Victor became mesmerized as she extracted an exquisite melody out of the cello balanced between her knees, her nimble fingers dancing over the strings while the bow drew across them. There was something different about her, a special light reflected on her soft features and a light blush dusted her cheeks, and he felt her love for that instrument, maybe stronger than for the piano.

He had been curious about her playing the cello since the first time he had seen it in her house, sitting on its stand, waiting patiently for its owner to play it. However, there had been more pressing matters at hand and he had pushed his questions at the back of his mind. Later, he had discovered she played the piano, she had learnt that he had a grand piano in his living room and, as their relationship grew stronger, they had started to play easy tunes together and she had taken up the role of his instructor for more difficult ones. She had never mentioned the cello to him and he had respected her privacy, thinking that maybe, someday, she would share it with him. And though he was not sure why she had decided to do it that day, he was grateful and deeply moved that she had deemed him worthy of entering that secret corner of her heart, the warm, rich tones resounding inside him, making a home in his chest and reaching every corner of his being.

She was approaching the end of the piece and something compelled him to get nearer her, even if it was a little. His body bent on its own, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin on his laced fingers.

When the young woman finished, there was no sound in the living room, not clapping, not a single comment, good or bad, about her performance, and that disheartened her. As she lifted her head to him, she found his piercing gaze fixed on her. She could not read his expression and for a second, she panicked thinking that he had not liked it. However, her eyes met his and she saw something deep in them, a dark turbulence filled with raw emotion which made her heart thunder in her chest and for a moment, she felt like she could drown in the mauve ocean of his pupils.

“Could you play another one?”

She had not expected that and she startled, suddenly pulled out of her trance.

“Can you not?”

His quiet voice was not demanding neither defiant. However, it carried a hopeful tone that reached deep inside her.

“I've been rehearsing another piece but...” she bit her lower lip. “I still make mistakes so...”

“It doesn't matter” the storm in his eyes subsided a little at the same time as his features softened. “I'd like to listen to it.”

She doubted for a moment more before furrowing her brows and breathing deeply, and closed her eyes. The melody and the notes flowed in her mind, and she put the bow on the strings. Then, her fingers moved slowly over the strings as she started to play the beautiful, serene chords of The Swan.

Victor swallowed the knot that had set in his throat as his heart hammered in his chest when she reached the first high notes. The warm and melancholic tune was like the cry of a wounded swan, suffering and fighting death but never losing its elegance and beauty. In a certain way, it reminded him of her. When she first approached him, she was struggling to avoid losing every single thing that meant the world to her: her father's precious memory, his legacy... And even though he had made things extremely difficult for her, her determination and her spirit had made her shine brightly in his eyes.

He saw her flinch as one of the notes sounded off-key but she frowned delicately, not breaking the cadence and trying to reach properly the correct place in the strings with her fingers. They slipped twice more and then, when the melody went back to lower tones, it became more confident and powerful again. Her movements slowed as she approached the end and he was sure that if his nature was different, the beautiful melody would have brought tears to his eyes.

“Sorry if it hasn't been very good...” blushing with embarrassment, not really wanting to look at him, she stood up and put the cello in the stand she had set next to the stool. “I hope I didn't make too many mistakes, I-”

Her voice got caught in her throat as his arms enveloped her in a tight embrace. She felt him lean his cheek on top of her head and his breath deep and even, filling his chest fully.

“Victor?” the young woman pushed at his arms, trying to see his face. “Are you okay?”

His only response was to keep her even closer to him and in the end, she just wrapped her arms around his waist, offering him her blind support.

Victor had always wondered how it was possible that she was capable of making his world shake to its foundations with just the smallest gesture. As a child, she had engraved herself into his heart in the brief moments they had been together and as an adult, she had stolen it again with her perseverance, her strength and her innocence. And now, with just her music, she had reached even deeper into his soul. He pressed a soft lingering kiss on her hair, smelling her delicate perfume.

“Thank you...”

His words were barely a whisper in her ear and she almost missed it, contented as she was snuggled up against his chest. She felt his muscles relax under her hands and loosened her hold on him, allowing him to move. His eyes had regained some of their usual calmness though she could see they still sparkled with contained emotion. On impulse, she lifted her hand and caressed his cheek. She had never imagined such a small thing would mean so much for him. Otherwise, she would have done it long before.

“Will you play for me again someday?”

She smiled.

“Every time you want me to” she tilted her head a bit. “Just let me know beforehand so I have some time to rehearsal properly.”

“If you do it every day, you'll be prepared without me giving you and advance notice.”

She pouted a bit, her lids lowering slightly.

“If you reduce my amount of work, then I'll have time for that.”

“Organise yourself better and you'll be able to do everything.”

“That's easy for you to say when you can stop time to get to everything.”

“I told you countless times before” the corners of his lips lifted up slightly and his eyes twinkled mischievously. “I only do that on special occasions.”

Then, as silence fell around them and the flicker of the fairy lights stilled, he leant forward and kissed her, stealing the words from her mouth, transporting them into a world suspended in a single moment that, if he wanted, he could make eternal.

THE END

#otome games #mr. love queen's choice #mlqc #fanfic #mlqc victor #li zeyan

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cor-are-they-stars · 4 years

Text

A Silver Lining

In nature, there is a constant struggle between those who seek the comfort of shadows and mists, and those who seek the brilliant light of the celestial heavens. It isn’t necessarily a battle of night and day, though often it is phrased as such. It is a great struggle that dapples the sky with lighting and clouds and gives personality to the great blue dome that serves us as a roof in our Earth home.

All this to say, Tsuki found it highly ironic that she, the moon kid, had to go head to head with a cloud boy.

Irony always seemed to find her.

She hadn’t really done any research on him; she hadn’t had the chance. Having had just arrived a few hours before on the train, fresh from Japan and her foster home with the Spellmans, she had been hoping she would be met by her sort of? sister at the station, but apparently this whole student versus student debacle had been happening. Welcome to Taiyuu, now go steal an orb and beat someone up while you’re at it.

Not that she was going to complain. She bounced from foot to foot, flexing her gloved hands and trying to ward off the bone deep tiredness that always found her around this time of the moon cycle, and especially after the long train ride. Her fingers tingled almost imperceptibly from constant erosion of waning crescent as she eyed him from one side of the lobby of the faux hotel that would serve as their arena the boy she would be fighting. All dark blue hair and wisps of fog, his floating on a cloud a few inches above the ground brought to mind images of old gods sitting contentedly upon clouds as they watched the world. She blinked her eyes a few rapid times, trying to flash herself into a higher functioning level. It was only mildly successful. That train had been irritatingly comfy. A sound like the hollow cry of a gong echoed across the fake city and alerted them to the match’s start. Before Tsuki could fully react, the boy scooped air into his hand. Thick grey tendrils of stormcloud gathered around his hand like hens gathering around a farmer sprinkling corn. Crackling and popping with electricity, the clouds turned on Tsuki with alarming speed and ferocity and shot towards her like great billowing bullets of the sky. Ah. So that was what “cloud quirk” had meant. Reacting on the instinct that had kept her alive for years, Tsuki dropped down behind a plush, impeccably white armchair. Lightning flickered briefly and with no break thunder roared in Tsuki’s ears as the clouds electrocuted the white chair. Well. Now she was awake. Head ringing, she made a snap decision and lept to her feet, grabbing a vase of plastic flowers from the small coffee table. The clouds flashed again, lightning spearing through her arm. A brief, awkward silence followed as the lightning passed through her highly see through arm harmlessly, as if it wasn’t even there, and scorching the wall. Kemuri-san looked mildly embarrassed and Tsuki grinned widely. She spread her arms, a few pebbles falling from the mouth of the vase and clinking on the floor. “Sorry, looks like I’m not all there today.” She vaulted over the chair, cackling and throwing a wide arc of pebbles and sad pretend flora as she dashed towards her opponent with her improvised weapon. As she swung at Kemuri-san, another crack sounded and the vase shattered in her translucent hands. The boy darted out of the way on his cloud, and Tsuki hit the ground with a roll, the scattered shattered pottery slicing open her cheek as she went over it. Getting back to her feet, Tsuki quietly marvelled over the boy’s excellent reaction time. If this was the kind of fighter this school boasted, she was proud to have gotten in. It was hard not to envy him. As she reoriented herself and prepared to charge him again, Tsuki noticed the boy’s gaze flicking toward the main feature of the room; a combination koi pond and fountain. And as her own eyes dissected the rippling patterns on the water, she saw what was in that fountain: a little orb, being cautiously nibbled by a large goldfish with an insatiable curiosity.

As if on a cue from an unseen director, the two dashed toward the water feature. Her legs were sure under her, even if her feet did sink nearly to the ankles in the floor. Tsuki had just started to pull ahead of the boy when she heard another crack and felt a searing heat on the small of her back as the lightning struck true. She stumbled and fell into the fountain with the fish. Cloud boy zipped past her and scooped the orb from the pond. Taking no time to gloat, he zipped to the stairwell to the first floor and freedom as if an invisible wind was pushing him. Tsuki’s body was abuzz, feeling like it was moments from vibrating apart. A drop of blood, brilliantly crimson against her fading out skin, billowed outward into the water to explore as she struggled to stand and shake off the paralyzing effect of the electricity. Now on her feet and buzzing more than ever, Tsuki’s focus sharpened. No way in heaven she was going to be beat on her first day by someone whose hero name might end up being Foghorn. Through the window, she could see Kemuri-san’s quick flight towards his goal line and her defeat.

Aw, heck no.

She sprinted toward the window, no plan in her mind but to stop his exodus.

Few things in life are more majestic than flight. A bird, wings outstretched as they glide. A cloud, meandering across the sky with the dignity of a monarch. An airplane, cutting a defiant path through the air as it carries lives to and fro.

A nearly invisible girl, dive bombing through a window yelling a battlecry.

Tsuki’s aim was near perfect. As she lept through the glass, fractures spread across its surface. It didn’t shatter, she wasn’t tangible enough for that. But a beautiful bullseye of cracks spread outward from her exit point. Her intangibility sent her flying right through him, a feeling that he would later compare to a convulsion and searing flash of dizzy confusion. Her gloved hands, unfaded like the rest of her clothing, wrapped around the orb as she hit the ground in a tuck-n-roll and came up on her feet again. With her newfound prize, Tsuki sprinted back down the sidewalk away from Kemuri-san, intent on the other end of the sidewalk where she was supposed to take the orb.

A cloud whooshed past her, dark gray tendrils and crackling lightning imminent as it positioned itself directly in her path, ready to intercept.

Uh, nope.

She took a detour, right into the hotel.

Running through the front door, she hurtled up the stairs to the lobby and up another and another, until she was on the fourth floor. Her footsteps made nary a sound on the knobby carpet as she ran at full speed toward an innocent cart of restocking towels. Tsuki dashed right through it, her slight tangibility managing to knock it over behind her. Not planned, but a pleasant bonus. She looked back to see Kemuri-san flying up the stairs and laughed triumphantly as he reached the impromptu barricade. That ought to slow him down.

He flew right over it.

Her laugh died on her lips and she refocused her energies on what currently mattered: getting away with the orb. Making a split second decision, she took a sharp left into a room and slammed the door behind her. Looking quickly to the side, she saw a small stack of papers.

From the hallway, Kemuri-san could see Tsuki's hand clip through the door holding a small sign that read "Do Not Disturb". She hooked it on the doorknob and retracted it through the wood. That ought to hold him. A small drop of blood from her vase-initiated wound dripped down her cheek, and she wiped it away. The red stain on her otherwise white glove was startling, and she paused a moment to admire it.

As the door flew open, Tsuki grabbed the first weapon she could think of. A pillow held defensively in front of herself, she assumed a stance that left her shielding the orb from Kemuri-san and his clouds. With a dismayed expression, she shook a hard-to-see finger at him.

"Didn't you read the sign?"

Kemuri-san let out a surprised bark of laughter, and Tsuki felt a tickle of satisfaction trace its way up her spine. The boy raised his hand, and a cloud flew towards her. The past few weeks of watching videos of baseball games to help her better understand the very American Spellmans gently took her hand and raised it in a batter's stance. With a solid whmpahf, she whacked Kemuri-san's cloud and also managed to clip the one that was keeping him aloft. The disturbance of the air dispersed the particles and Kemuri-san fell with a thump. In her few seconds of time, Tsuki threw her pillow at Kemuri-san, which he caught in surprise as he got to his feet. Tsuki grabbed the other plush pillow from the comforter-clad bed and brandished it. “Pillow fight. Me, you.”

Kemuri-san, finding absolutely no problem with this, came in swinging. She cackled in surprise and jumped away from the bed, wapping another cloud away. Kemuri-san’s pillow had an icy cloud wrapped around it, and every time their weapons connected Tsuki’s pillow grew colder. The slowly crystallizing and frostbitten pillow nipped at her fingers as she retreated from the onslaught of feather-stuffed cloth. Finding herself backed against the wall, Tsuki was caught off guard as a Kemuri-san got in a solid hit.

Apparently, he had forgotten her intangibility. She had too. The force was just enough to shove her through the wall, dropping the orb to the floor with a humble plasticky tmhp as she disappeared, pushed straight through the wall and into open air, four stories up.

Gravity refused to acknowledge her intangibility, and she dropped like a stone thrown into a lake, though she left far fewer ripples as she plummeted. From afar, she would’ve been hard to see. Merely a fast falling shimmer in the air. Air flew by her too fast to be breathed, and in the seconds of free fall fear became a good friend.

But then, like a quilt made of melancholy and discarded dandelions, a cloud wrapped around her and caught her in the air. Her brown eyes shot upwards and met the panicked blue of Kemuri-san’s. He was leaning precariously out the window, hand thrown towards her as a direction to the clouds. For a few moments she hung there, a dangling toy on a mobile. Her breath had abandoned her during the fall, but it slowly and sheepishly returned as the cloud slowly drifted back up toward the window.

Tsuki tumbled through the window frame, heart beating out a violent tattoo of fear against her head. She lay on the ground for a few minutes, waiting for her pulse to slow a little and thanking any and all gods who happened to be listening for solid ground. Kemuri-san looked breathless and terrified as his clouds slowly dispersed around Tsuki. “Are you okay? When you fell- I almost had a heart attack. I had no idea-”

Tsuki rolled over and got to her feet, pressing her hand against her chest. Her eyes darted to the corner, where the orb sat undisturbed. He hadn’t gone for it when she fell? Tsuki walked over and scooped it up, then turned back and offered it to Kemuri-san.

“Here.”

He had pulled her back in. Sent a cloud after her without a second thought for the orb or the competition they were in. He didn’t have to do that. Kemuri-san looked confused by her gesture, and she proffered it again.

“Take it. I, uh.” She circled a hand in the air, trying to find the words. “You didn’t have to help me. But you did. And, I appreciate that. It was just, well. Incredibly honorable. And sweet. I’m bad with words- just take it?” Kemuri-san’s expression was touched by understanding, but the concern wasn’t fully gone. He got to his feet as his clouds started to reform around him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tsuki waved a hand dismissively. “I will be. I just need a minute. It’ll give you a headstart.”

This was apparently good enough for him, and he took the lightly pulsing orb. Tsuki watched him hurry from the room and listened to his footsteps tthpm tthpm down the carpeted stairs as she caught her breath and berated it for ever leaving. As soon as her lungs were ready and her eyes had stopped spinning from fear, she jumped to her feet. Taking only a moment to pull a new, tangible pair of gloves from her pocket and discard the faded old ones, she ran to the door, then thought for a second before screwing up her face in concentration. Like the floor had fallen out from under her, Tsuki suddenly dropped down and out of sight.

Tsuki could surmise it had been alarming when she suddenly dropped from the ceiling of the kitchen, because Kemuri-san nearly dropped the orb as he tripped backwards in surprise. Huh. Lucky she had ended up here. Grabbing some heating mitts and pulling them onto her feet like crappy last minute shoes, Tsuki roundhoused the orb out of Kemuri-san’s hands and into the empty, bone-dry sink. Ripping off the mitts before they could pick up on her intangibility and fade past usefulness, she grabbed the orb out of the sink with one of her kid-gloved hands. She ran right through the counter, falling to the floor as an electrified frying pan Kemuri-san had thrown through a storm cloud clipped her and knocked her to the ground.

Kemuri-san snatched the orb and booked it out as he had been doing before she got in his way. As the shock was smaller this time, Tsuki was able to stick her leg through the counter and kick the pan into his path in time to trip him and send him to the floor. She phased through the counter the rest of the way and grabbed the prize again, booking it out the door and into the elevator and slamming her fist into the “up” button. The doors opened and she hurried in, frantically mashing at the “Close Doors” and “Floor 20” buttons. Kemuri-san scrambled out of the kitchen and flew at full speed toward the elevator. “Hold the door!”

The sliding doors glided closed peacefully, just before the cloud boy could get in. Tsuki awkwardly enjoyed a few quiet minutes of silence as the box slowly moved upwards, a tinny tune droning mindlessly in the background in a vain attempt at music. It wasn’t Mozart, but it was catchy and Tsuki found herself humming it as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to swallow the acidic fear that was clutching at her heart. You’ll be out soon. You’ll be out soon. Hang in there. By the time the elevator arrived at the roof, her heart was a butterfly-quick mess and her breath was quick and short. She stumbled out of the confinement and into the open air.

Tsuki crouched next to the box that held the elevator and clutched the orb close to her chest with trembling arms as she fought back the rising panic. She had thought she could handle it, but the nagging sense of impending harm and tightness in her throat told her she couldn’t. A minute of slow breathing carefully calmed her heart rate and she got shakily to her feet. She was still competing. She needed to finish this.

Kemuri-san stepped onto the rooftop out of the shack-like stairwell, and everything was eerily quiet for a moment. Then a fist caught him in the jaw, sending him sprawling. Tsuki, standing to the side of the door with her arm still extended from the sucker punch, looked startled. She dropped the orb, and scurried over. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t mean to hit that hard! I am so sorry, is anything broken?”

She set the orb down and took his face firmly in her hands, examining his jaw to make sure it wasn’t dislocated. Her check confirmed, to her relief, that he wouldn’t suffer anything more than some swelling and tenderness. She let the still stunned boy go and helped him to his feet. The boy’s clouds were a shocking sunset pink, wispy from his surprise and crackling slightly at the edges. Tsuki tried to brush one away and was zapped for her troubles. The blue eyed boy touched his jaw gingerly and winced.

“Sorry,” Tsuki repeated, massaging her fist nervously. “I didn’t think that would actually work. Usually, people figure that one out and dodge! What a terrible first impression this has been, huh? Anyway. Uh, sorry about that.” The boy grimaced. “I bit my tongue.” ”Are you good?” Tsuki shifted from foot to foot. “I mean, you want to keep going?” Clouds McGee shrugged, looking a touch embarrassed. “I mean, if you are?” Tsuki shrugged and charged him. One of his clouds shot at her, getting in her face and blinding her. She dropped into a slide, sinking partway into the ground as she did. Hooking her foot around his, she flew between his legs and pulled him down before rushing back toward the orb. She was nearly there when he grabbed her foot and dropped her again, crawling frantically for the orb. Tsuki rolled to her feet and ran past the struggling cloud boy. Scooping up the orb in her arms, she bolted away from her opponent and toward the edge of the roof. His clouds rushed after her, one once again obscuring her face and the other wrapping around her legs. Stumbling slightly, Tsuki waved the cloud away from her face.

And found herself teetering on the edge of the rooftop. Tsuki glanced back at the charging, stony-faced boy, and made a decision. She had already faced fear of spaces- why not falling as well? Shuffling back slightly, she saluted him. “Thanks for the lift earlier. But I’m going down this time.”

And she stepped backward.

Orb cradled close to her chest, this time the falling felt more like flying. Wind rushed past her like a busy pedestrian, and the windows were a spinning film reel as she went down, down, down. She was little more than a shimmering thought with an orb in her arms as she went down… down…

CNRPK She hit the pavement solidly, arm absorbing most of the blow. Her intangibility helped, but not quite as much as she might’ve hoped. Her arm was definitely broken, and her heart was doing its panicked-best to escape her chest. Tsuki struggled to her feet, gingerly cradling the orb in the crook of her elbow and stumbling slightly in the washing wave of fear and exhilaration. She looked up, up towards the top of the building. There was the boy, staring down at her with alarm.

Tsuki smiled shakily. And stepped back over the finish line. @taiyuu-high-oct

#sugiyama tsubame #kemuri moya #round two #lets hope it works this time #also uh #hope y'all have a good day

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mvdbutler · 4 years

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Quarantine with a Ladies' Man WARNING: The following is a work of erotic fan fiction. The events of which are completely made up and did not happen, and is no true reflection of the characters, promotions, wrestlers, events etc depicted or referenced within. Fantasy is legal. This material is unsuitable to be viewed by those under the legal age limit of viewing pornographic material in your current country of residence. All characters depicted in this fiction are over 18 years of age. I do not own WWE, Monday Night Raw, NXT or any of its current or former wrestlers/characters. I am making no money as a result of the writing of this story. Starring: Charly Caruso (WWE), Angel Garza (WWE) Quarantine with a Ladies’ Man An erotic WWE fan-fiction story. by DaxG2001 ([email protected]) Codes: Cons, MF, oral, anal, inter. * * * March, 23, 2020. The WWE Performance Center in Orlando, Florida. “That… That was a little too close for comfort.” Charly Caruso, the gorgeous WWE interviewer and on-screen personality said to herself. Making her way backstage after her in-ring segment for Monday Night Raw interviewing Shayna Baszler was cut short, after rival Becky Lynch got some payback with a steel chair attack. “Forget social distancing, I’ve got to worry about chair attacks now!” She joked to herself. Dressed in a lovely black, sleeveless dress and high heels. “Social distancing?” Her attention was grabbed by the sound of a suave, Latino voice as she stopped to turn. Her eyes roaming over the handsome, hunky form of the self-proclaimed Ladies’ Man of the WWE, in the Hispanic hunk Angel Garza. Smiling, Garza was still clad in his pink ring attire from the victorious match he had earlier. “That sounds pretty boring to me… Why would anyone keep their distance from someone as lovely, and sexy, as you Charly...” He said, pouring on the charms as he approached the interviewer. “You, ummmm, know what I meant, Angel...” Charly replied, a blush coming across her gorgeous cheeks as she smiled a little at the man coming towards her. “Oh, I know… And I stand by what I said...” He smiles, standing in front of her. “A lovely thing like you, all alone? That’s impossible, surely!” He flattered her as he took a moment to scan over her curvy form. “But you know? With me around, and me being the only true Ladies’ Man in the building, let alone the WWE? I am very, very capable of keeping you company for the rest of the evening...” He boldly said, stepping in as he brought a hand up to toy with a strand of her long, brunette hair. “W-Well, that’s sweet of you to offer and all, Angel.” Flustered, Charly stepped back for a moment. “But I’m sure you manager and your tag team partner would object, right?” She claimed, perhaps looking for an excuse as his seductive charms were clearly working as they’ve done to her during on-screen interviews before. “Oh, them? Please...” He waved a hand, still smiling and oozing confidence. “Vega’s probably off demanding a title match right now… And Andrade will be halfway back home or to a hotel with his woman by now… So that means I’ve got a nice little locker room free for the both of us to, you know, play out a little ‘Quarantine’ of our own...” He says with a chuckle, making light of the situation the WWE and the rest of the world has had to deal with resulting in this unheard of closed doors shows without fans the WWE is putting on. “Quarantine, huh?” Charly smirked a little herself, not doing a good job at hiding how she was checking out the Hispanic Casanova. “Would this quarantine of yours involve you, me, and probably losing a lot of clothes?” She bluntly asked, as she smoking hot eyes locked a gaze onto him. “It seems my reputation precedes itself… Guilty as charged!” Garza admits without shame, holding his hands up like he’s been caught out. “Is that a problem, mamacita?” He smirks again, seeing how his target of desire was falling deeper for his charms. “...No, not at all...” Caruso said, as her tongue flicked over her upper lip a little. “So, where um, is this locker room you were talking about?” * * * Minutes later in one of the makeshift locker rooms created in the Performance Center for the TV broadcasts, Charly Caruso and Angel Garza have both shed their clothes to leave them hastily scattered across the floor. Caruso on her knees, her rounded, nicely sized tits and her thick rounded ass on display. Staring up with lust and awe as she takes a hold of the very fittingly long and fat cock of the Ladies’ Man as his muscular, dark-toned skinned body is in full display. Biting down on her bottom lip for a moment as she gives him a couple of pumps to make sure he’s hard. “Fuck! I can see why you’re the damn Ladies’ Man around here alright!” Caruso gushed with a sexy blush on her cheeks. Not being so intimidated that she doesn’t know what to do however. Leaning in and making him moan as she presses her full, pouty lips against his cock head for a deep smooch. Starting to lick across the crown of that big Latino cock as she works over the head with a slow, swirling motion. Making herself groan at the sinful act before she moves down, flicking at his base for a moment before dragging her wet tongue up the side and circling around the head for good measure. Her hand giving a couple of pumps as well as she applies a light coat of spit onto that thick bell-end. “Mmmmm… Yeah, mami… And you know that I can handle the ladies, too...” Angel brags as he grins broadly, as any man would who’d managed to easily seduce the stunning interviewer like he has. Enjoying the rewards of his well practised work as he moaned out louder when Charly parted those big lips of hers and took his length into her oral hole. Letting him feel the warm and wetness of her mouth as the American stunner started to suck on his big Mexican cock. “Mmmmm… And I can see it’s not just a microphone… Ahhhhh… That you know how to handle!” He said with approval as he stared down. Admiring those rounded tits and the fit body of the woman kneeling in front of him. Watching his pole vanish up into her mouth as she pushed up and down to get into the motion. “Mmmmmphh! Mmmmm! Mmmmm...” The Indianapolis, Indiana-born beauty moaned around the big cock she was slipping in and out between her juicy lips as she kept them expertly wrapped around his thick size. Showing this was far from her first time handling some cock as she smoothly bobbed her head up and down along his length. Already taking half of his size into her talented mouth. “Hmmmmppphhh! Mmmmm… Mmmmmphhhh...” Her shoulder length hair starting to sway back and forth as she used the lusty motion to blow a Superstar she should be interviewing instead of sucking off in a locker room. Her groans and the fact her nipples are hard just from dishing out a blowjob showing she’s far from caring about the fact she’s conducting a very unprofessional act with a co-worker. Her smoky eyes staring up with desire as she gradually pushes further down onto his shaft. Garza, with his reputation of being a skirt chaser, just smiles as he stares and moans since this is what he wanted all along. A hot female on her knees, slurping away on his big, thick cock and getting him coated with saliva. He planned on getting a lot more out of her as well before the night was over. For now the former Cruiserweight Champion was more than satisfied to take some oral pleasure from the TV host and personality. Watching his length disappear between those full lips of hers before it reappeared again as she repeated the sinful motion. The spit starting to drip of his inches to land down onto her exposed chest as she bobbed away. “Mmmmm! Mmmmmphhh!! Mmmmm!” Her sucking increased as her hand moved to just hold and slide up his thighs as she took him even deeper, much to the Latino hunk’s delight as that pretty white face moved down towards his crotch. Not a hint of gagging heard at all from her as his shaft passed beyond her mouth to let him experience how pleasurably snug her throat was. Her eyes narrowed with desire as she slurped up and down. The spit trickling down her chin and not caring about the mess as she bobbed away on the man who has been using his charms on her for weeks on WWE TV. Eventually, she pulled off from with a loud, lusty gasp as she licked her lips. Spitting down onto his rod and using both hands to give him a round of quick strokes to really work her saliva all over that delicious, big cock. “Mmmmm! Take it you liked the taste… Ahhhhh… Of a Ladies’ Man’s cock, huh mamacita?” Garza grinned as he watched her pump. Not even trying to hide the fact Caruso is just another notch on his bedpost. “Mmmmm yeah… I fucking loved it!” Charly purred with a sexy smile of her own before she let go of his cock. Standing up as she turned to move. A deliberate sway of her rounded hips and a saucy look back over the shoulder as she took a seat on the couch in the dressing room. Spreading her legs invitingly wide to be far from subtle. “But I think it’s time you backed up what you said about handling the ladies as well...” She said with a smirk. Showing off her already wet pussy to the WWE stud. “My great, great pleasure, mami...” Garza said as he came right over, and didn’t waste time with stopping to put on a rubber either. Just shifting down onto position, leaning over Caruso as he lined his big, Hispanic cock with that tight, white pussy. Pushing in to make both of them groan as her hands already went up to hold onto his shoulders as he penetrated her snatch. “MMMMM… And I really do mean my pleasure! Mmmmmm...” He voiced his approval, feeling how snug her inner walls were around his thickness. Not enjoying the moment too long as he soon got to work with his job. Drawing his hips back before he pushed in to fill her snatch up with his dick and get her groaning with delight as it was his turn now to build up a rhythm. “Oh fuck!! MMMMM… Oh shit, that’s fucking big! Mmmmm...” The TV host also known as Charly Arnolt moaned her approval as she stared down between her spread legs for a moment. Watching the big cock she’d just been slobbering all over now getting stuffed into another of her just as pleasurable holes. Her pussy being spread open wonderfully by the thick invasion to give her already so much pleasure she didn’t give a second thought to the fact this was some bareback action. “Oh yeah! Give it to me! MMMMM FUCK… So fucking big! MMMM...” She groaned, her eyes going back up to the stud she’s given herself to having fallen for his charms, and seeing a handsome, grinning face in return that made her again blush and bite her lip. Even as she took his big dick nice and deep into her wet and willing twat. Taking advantage of the staring, the stud from Monterrey, Mexico leaned down, pressing his lips against the full, ripe ones of the beauty he was pumping his big, stiff cock into. Smiling into the smooch as she all too easily and quickly returned the lip lock to work her lips against his. The two soon exchanging moans along with a little spit as he pushed his tongue into her eager oral hole. Rewarding her by sliding his member deeper into her slot as his crotch smacked off her body for the first time. A groan from her muffled as they made out. His tongue commanding things as he worked over hers for a different kind of wrestling than the in-ring style he’s known for. “MMMMM!! Mmmmmphh!! MMMMM...” Caruso just groaned with closed eyes, giving herself completely to the charming Latino Superstar. Her curvy body starting to slide against the couch as she shifted back each time his cock pushed in balls deep into her wet, tight pussy. Her rounded tits nicely bouncing away as she got filled up by the man she was interviewing on screen for the broadcast of WWE Raw earlier in the night. Now getting banged inside of his locker room as he briskly and stiffly pumped in and out of her box. Knowing full well he’s only using her to get some action from a female he sees as beautiful, but giving her such a good time already with his smooth and steady thrusts that she couldn’t care less she’d going to be pumped and perhaps dumped afterwards. Finally breaking the kiss, leaving a trail of saliva from their panting lips, Garza soon smiled handsomely again as he leaned back. Moving a hand down to capture her tit and squeeze it as he pumped back and forth. The smack of his body connecting with hers as he bottomed out ringing out around the room along with their moans. The beauty he was on top of responding by putting her hand on his to deepen the grope, craving extra pleasure even with his length buried nice and deep into her slot. He was more than happy to oblige as he fondled away at her mound to keep her groaning even as it jiggled in his grip from her jolting motion on the couch. “MMMMM… You’ve got a wonderful body, Charly… I’m very lucky… AHHHHH… To get to be your lover tonight...” Angel said seductively, still working his Casanova-like magic onto her even though he’s already gotten his dick in two of her holes already so far. “MMMMM FUCK!! I bet… MMMMM!! You fucking say that… AHHHHH FUCK!!” Charly groaned out, lustfully staring at the hunk pumping away into her. “To all the women… MMMMM!! You pick up to screw!” She says before moaning again. Showing how good this sex must be that she still wants more even when she knows she’s just another conquest of his. “Who? Me? MMMMM…” Garza let out a chuckle as he pulled out of her snatch, thinking of a new position to take her in. “Guess you can read me like a book, mami...” He’s about to brag some more, as any man would with a horny hottie wanting more of them. But she cut him off, pulling him down to the couch and making him sit as she quickly and lustfully swung a leg over to mount his lap. “And I can fucking fuck like a fucking pornstar!” Caruso grinned widely as she reached down, not wanting a break in the action as she slipped his big dick back into her needy snatch. “MMMMM FUCK!! Oooooooooh yessssss MMMMM!!” The stunning host for WWE and ESPN moaned out as she sharply dropped down, stuffing her wet snatch full with the long dick she’s become quite addicted to already. Gripping the back of the couch as she started to shift up and down onto him. Making that slap of her ass meeting this thighs sound out to mix with their moans as she started to ride that cock with a purpose. “MMMMMM AHHHHHH!! FUCK!! MMMMM...” She groaned out, sweat starting to form over that gorgeous white body as she bounced up and down on that fat Hispanic cock to fill herself up over and over each time she dropped down to take him balls deep. Soon enough quickly rising up to the mid-point just to shove herself right back onto him with shameless, moaning delight. “Si, mami! MMMMM!! That’s how I like it! MMMMM!!” The former NXT Cruiserweight Champion grinned as he watched the horny interviewer fuck herself almost silly already on his cock. Seeing the fruits of having both charmed his way into her panties and now driven her wild with his superior sexual skill. Leaving him free to roam his hands over her stunning body. Capturing both tits in his hands so he can squeeze away at them to make her head tilt back with approval as she groaned. “I always love it when my women… MMMMM!! Show me what they want...” He bragged between his own moans. Encouraging her to keep bouncing away as his fingers teased and rubbed her hard nipples as her breasts bounced in his grasp. “MMMMM!! FUCK YES!! UHHHHH!! Gonna… MMMMM!! Gonna fuck you real fucking good! MMMMM!!” She sinfully vowed in very un-PG language as she continued to briskly ride away on the dick she was mounted on. Her shoulder length hair sway as she shifted up and down. Her shapely ass cheeks jiggling witch each contact against his muscular body when she dropped downward. So wet downstairs that the slurping sound of juices escaping over that cock were just about heard with their loud, shameless moans and the slap of skin meeting skin. “MMMMM… OH FUCK… FUCK! FUCK FUCK MMMMMM!!” Her speech was sounding more suited for a pornstar than a sports TV host, but the look of pleasure on her face showed she couldn’t care less that she was being far removed from the professional interviewer she’s known to be. Bouncing away with strong desire for the man who had successfully and then some seduced her into blowing then riding his big cock. The third-generation wrestler was having his cake and eating it. Even when most men would be more than happy with having a lusty beauty riding wildly up and down on their cock like Garza is currently taking. He however leaned in. Capturing a nipple into his mouth to wrap his lips around it and start to suck. Making her groan out as she responded with a hand going to the back of his head to encourage the motion. Making him smile around that nub as he slurped onto her tit while it bounced from her constant riding. His other hand sneaking around to take a hold of her backside, soon delivering a firm smack to make her gasp and keep that butt jiggling away. His moans now muffled by her tits as he switched to start licking and sucking on her other rounded mound. Showing the Ladies’ Man of the WWE knew exactly what buttons to press to get the most out of his lovers. “OH FUCK! FUCK YES! YES YES YESSSSSSSSS AHHHHH OOOOOOOOH...” Caruso groaned out with her lips stuck in a perfect O-shape as she started to cum nice and hard as she fucked herself on Angel’s massive, fat cock. Juices flowing down and her pussy walls gripping that length to keep him moaning into her tits as he sucked on them. Showing off his own skill has he stayed hard despite the increased pressure. Allowing the beautiful brunette to ride out her sexual high as she kept moving up and down. Gradually slowing down as she came back down to Earth, eventually just grinding her dripping snatch against that addictive cock she’d stuffed into herself. Her fingers gripping his hair to forcefully pull him away from her rack as she licked her full lips. “More!” Charly growled sinfully, dismounting him and moving to kneel on the seating of the couch. Sticking her rounded, sexy out as her arms rested to cross in front of her on the back so she was almost in a doggy style position. “If you insist, mami...” Garza just smiled broadly, wiping sweat from his forehead as he moved to stand then get behind her. “I do like to think I bring out the best in my women, after all...” He chuckled handsomely as he spread her ass cheeks apart to expose the final of her pleasurable holes that he’s yet to sample. Spitting down onto that entrance to make her groan as she looked back. “Less talk, more of that big fucking dick in my ass!” Caruso demanded, showing her need as she already pushed back into her hands as he felt her up. “Keep up that kind of talk mamacita, and you might just be my first return visit...” Angel claimed with a smirk as he gave the needy beauty what she wanted. Pushing his fat Latino cock into her tight white ass to make them both start moaning out once again. Instantly one of her hands moving to go down under her body and straight to her snatch for some rubbing stimulation. The hunk behind her just focusing on working his shaft in and out of her tightest of holes. “MMMMM… And an ass like this… MMMMM! FUCK!! Definitely puts you to the top of my list of women...” He said for a dirty compliment, that even while having seduced her into such a horny state he’s still just judging her by how good of a fuck she is. That ranking rocketing up thanks to his cock now easing in and out of her juicy rump as he starts to fuck her. “FUCK! MMMMM… OH FUCK YEAH!! MMMMM!!” The stunning interviewer tilted her head back, showing that even with him going into her ass basically dry (her juices over his cock and that bit of spit barely being proper lube) she was no stranger to anal action. Already rocking back a little on her knees in time with the motion of that cock entering her vice-like asshole. “MMMMM!! Give me that fucking dick… AHHHHH FUCK!! Deep in my fucking ass! MMMM!!” Her fingers brushing back and forth across her soaked lower lips so she kept moaning out even when most women would be tapping out, Superstar or otherwise, having to try and handle such a slab of man-meat. Her eyes still locked onto her handsome, Hispanic lover as she gazed with desire and pushed her rounded white booty back to take that cock deeper. “Si, mami! MMMMM!! If you can take it? AHHHHH SHIT… I can deliver!” That smile never left the former NXT Cruiserweight Champion’s face as he got into the steady, smooth motion to properly pump into her butt now that they were both used to the feeling. Her back passage still tight around his rod but now he was able to firmly move in and out. Making her thick cheeks ripple with each motion as he kept her in place with hands on her midsection. Staring down to watch the stunning sight of his shaft disappearing into her rump before reappearing moments later. More than happy to give this lusty beauty the kind of fucking she hadn’t planned on taking when the night began. Thanks to his seductive charms and top notch sexual ability however he’d turned the TV host into a far more XXX-rated performer rather than a PG-TV star she’s supposed to be. “FUCK… FUCK!! MMMMMM FUCK… UHHHHH MY ASS!! MMMMMM OOOOOOOH!!” Sweat dripped off of her stunning face, with loose strands of her hair sticking to her cheeks and over the forehead. Her tits swaying underneath her as she rocked back and forth, once again fucking herself on that thick length but this time as it was actively pumped stiffly into her. Keeping her cheeks shaking from the force of both their motions as he fitted nice and deep into her tightness. “UHHHH!! MORE! MMMMM… Don’t… UHHHH!! DON’T FUCKING STOP!! MMMMM...” The pleasure she was getting making her now go from rubbing to fingering her already soaking wet pussy. Shoving a couple digits in nice and deep as her eyes closed as her head rested on the back of the couch she was being fucked on. Her loud, pornstar-quality moans echoing around the locker room to accompany the slap of his muscular Latino frame colliding with that PAWG ass to keep it shaking sexily. Sweat too pouring off of the toned to say the least body of the resident Ladies’ Man of the WWE as he earned his reputation and then some. Briskly pumping his big, thick cock between the juicy cheeks of the on-screen interviewer of Monday Night Raw. Still grinning, seeing how his charms had turned the once professional woman into an anal-loving temptress. Her loud moans sweet victory music to his ears and more then fuelling him to keep driving his length into her still super tight asshole even as he’s stretched her back passage out to at least accept his cock. Allowing his crotch to smack off her rump each time he drills her for a round of butt fucking that would otherwise render most women unable to walk straight for well over a week. Caruso however in such a high state of lust thanks in part to his expert seduction that she was craving more and more. Driving herself hard into a second orgasm as her eyes rolled upward and drool hung from those pouty lips as her teeth clenched together from the high ripping through her body. Juices gushing out to soak not just her fingers but her hand and wrist as she finger banged herself through this anal-induced orgasm. More slumping against the couch rather than just resting on it as her energy got sapped. Her pushes back mistimed and lacking the force from before as she just rode out the sexual peak. Before letting out a long gasp that would have fitted perfectly in a porno film as her hand finally fell away from her spent snatch to leave juices dripping down her thighs and onto the seating. It was one thing to endure the tightening of her snatch when she first came, but a second round was even too much for the Hispanic Casanova to handle. Managing a couple more pumps into that stunning rump before he pulled out with a deep grunt. His rod pulsing even without being touched as he turned the tired beauty around so she leaned back to sit on the couch. That cocky smile, and for good reason, still on his sweat-coated face and he knelt over her and stroked his length. Aiming at her face for an obvious target. Worn out and with closed eyes, Charly only knew what was happening when she felt the first blast of hot, thick spunk from that Mexican cock splashing over her stunning American facial features. Making her groan with approval and her mouth open as her tongue stuck out, getting soon rewarded with bursts of spunk loosely shot and intended landing on her and into that oral hole. Most of his load painting her cheeks, nose, and forehead. Resulting in some of the cum matting into the strands of hair already stuck to her face from this wild locker room fuck. She didn’t care about such a shameful mess. Using a hand to carefully clear away jizz from close to her eyes so she could look at him as he finally let go of his spent cock. Leaving her to press her lips together and swallow down the collected spunk from his load with a single, greedy gulp. “So, mamacita… Do I live up to my reputation?” Angel asked as he stood up. Admiring his work and not just of his cum all over that pretty face of his conquest for the night. “Mmmmm… All that, and then some...” Charly purred with a saucy smile, made hotter by the spunk dripping from those big lips. “Like I say, I always take care of my women… It’s what a true Ladies’ Man does!” He bragged, stepping back as he moved across the room to scoop up his ring attire from the floor to slip it back on. “Oh I know… And I know I’m just one of many women you’ll fuck and dump too...” Caruso said but with a sexy laugh, showing that after a great fuck like that she was perfectly happy to be a notch on the bedpost to him. “Hey, that might be true for most women I’m with… But you? I think you deserve say, a second date or two...” Garza said after he’d put back on his boots and pads to be already dressed – like he’s made a quick getaway before in the past after some action. “So what? I’ve just got to get on my knees, spread my legs, or let you tap my ass to get some more of you?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. Her tone sounding like she wasn’t against the idea. “Well, if you put it like that?” Angel just smiled and gave her a wink. “Pretty much, mami.” “...I think that can be arranged...” Charly said, grinning back as she started to scoop up the spunk from her face so could seductively lick it off her finger for a last encouraging show for him. “...Man, it’s so tough sometimes to be a Ladies’ Man...” Angel said with a bragging laugh, as he’s completely lived up to his reputation and then some.

#charly arnolt #charly caruso #angel garza

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lonelypond · 4 years

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Tiger By The Tail, Chapter 5

NicoMaki, NozoEli, Love Live, 2K, 5/?

Maki and Honoka recover from filming, Eli and Nozomi go out to dinner, and Nico and Rin stay in.

Chapter 5

The video session had been manic. They always were. Honoka was now sprawled out on the music room couch, candy red uniform jacket open, tank top plastered to her torso with sweat, Maki was slumped against the wall, chugging water, jacket off, sleeves rolled up. Walnut parts were scattered everywhere, Honoka reached down, grabbed a handful, and tossed the shells in Maki’s direction.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” Maki raised her mug in salute.

“That was like 10 minutes.” Honoka groaned.

“You got walnut shells in my piano.”

Honoka sat up, her arms wide and pounding up and down, “That part in the middle, that was so cool, you were like” more gesturing, “And I was” Honoka made cracking nuts movements, “and they were flying everywhere, cracking in half right when you hit the keys…that was the Russian Dance, right? Eli’s gonna love it.”

“I don’t think so.” Maki closed her eyes, head back against the wall.

“Why not, it was great.” Honoka sounded peeved.

“Eli’s a trained classical ballerina, Honoka, cracking walnuts to Tchaikovsky’s masterpiece is probably not going to crack her top 10 versions.”

“You’re wrong.”

Maki sighed. “We have to clean up now.”

Honoka fake yawned and stretched her arms wide, “But I’m tired now, Maki. And I want to show Eli the video. Think she’s done with her date?”

Maki raised an eyebrow. She would not have expected Eli, who lived alone, to return here, after her date, to this house full of people who might get in the way of any after date activities. “Eli might want some privacy. I’m sure Kotori would love to see the video.”

“Oh yeah, we looked amazing.” Honoka jumped up and grabbed the phone off its stand, “I’ll send it to her.”

They had looked amazing, Maki’s snowy tuxedo and Honoka’s vivid splash of seasonal red, Honoka’s uniform trousers out of the same fabric as Maki’s. The faux bearskin hat was now ludicrously off balance on the edge of Maki’s piano. At some point, Honoka had taken it off and started tossing walnut meats in it, which is how they got into the piano.

Maki flexed her fingers. She’d spent most of the day practicing for both tonight and the more traditional program Eli had put together. Finger fatigue and no patience for picking walnut carcasses out of her piano so what she needed now was a snack. “Cookies. We need cookies.”

Honoka bounced to her feet, “We do.”

Maki grabbed the hat, shook out walnut parts, and put it on, tilting it back, decisively giddy as she remembered a plate of snickerdoodles. “We’ll clean up tomorrow.”

“YES!” Honoka fist pumped, “You’re the best, Maki. I’ll be down here right after breakfast with a broom.”

Maki tried frowning, but could barely dent the energy that made her want to tap dance across the floor, “You’d better. It’s bad enough that you invi…”

“Maki.” Honoka sounded serious.

“What?”

“You said you would stop blaming me.”

“No, I agreed to stop mentioning that I was blaming you.”

“Isn’t that the same?”

“No.” Maki tossed the hat on the couch, giddy bubble burst, “If Rin ate all the cookies, you’re making more.”

“There’s some in the freezer.”

“Good.”

###

Eli opened the door for Nozomi, who had a dark gray dress with a slightly darker pattern scattered over it. Eli had opted for a dark green turtleneck tucked into light gray trousers.

“This is a very cute little place.” Nozomi glanced around the small room, shifting her shawl.

Eli waved at the bartender, who smiled back. “Yeah, it’s very cozy. I recommend it to a lot of my clients.”

They slid into a circular back booth. “Do you bring them here yourself?”

Eli shook her head, “No. After a long day of hiking or skiing, they’re usually tired of my jokes. I only have 5.”

Nozomi brushed Eli’s arm as she took off her shawl, staying close, “I’m sure that’s not true. You seem charm.”

Eli laughed, “I am charmed. By you.”

Nozomi tilted her head and her next comment was in Japanese, “Perhaps I meant you are charming. Do verb tense hints come with dinner? And is there a quiz with a prize for excellence? I am only motivated by reward.”

Eli’s grin broadened and she continued the conversation at Nozomi’s speed, “My apologies, Nozomi-san. I could not resist the word play. And you can have any reward you want.”

Nozomi arched an eyebrow, smiling at the waitress but waving away the menu, “That is a very generous offer, Eli. Aren’t you worried about what I might demand?”

Eli shrugged, opening a menu and placing it between them, “No. I might be intrigued.”

“Possibly you should be worried.” Nozomi’s hand brushed Eli’s.

Nozomi sensed nervousness as the seemingly bold Eli concentrated on the menu, speaking without making eye contact, “You seem like a holiday gift in a lonely winter so I just intend to be grateful for the brightness.”

Nozomi smiled. “And what does the local tour guide recommend?”

“Seafood, always seafood.” Eli paused, “There are vegan and vegetarian options though…”

Nozomi glanced at the menu, then caught Eli’s eye. “Local specialties are fine. Everything I’ve seen looks tasty.”

A blush. Nozomi was starting to feel confident. Eli might be adpt at teaching skiing to groups, but perhaps Nozomi could provide private tutoring on other sports after dessert.

###

Nico was restless. Her siblings were sleeping in Japan so no video chatting with them. There was nothing in this rustic kitchen that Nico wanted to eat or cook. This was not Nico’s house so she was not going to clean. And she had already added Nico Ni songs to all of Maki’s playlists, for which she would obviously be thanked for once Maki realized how much they had been improved. So Nico was watching Terrace House because at least it felt a little like home.

Rin came bounding through the kitchen, talking as she chewed. “Hey, Nico, these cookies are great!”

Nico shook her head and pulled the blanket Maki had given her closer.

“What you watching?” Rin jumped over the back of the couch.

“Terrace House.”

“Nah, Nico. We’re in America. Watch American.” Rin grabbed the remote and slid next to Nico. “There’s some show with truckers or ice fishers or something.”

“Nico is getting tips from the models.” Nico reclaimed the remote.

“Hey, good idea. Is this an episode with photo shoots or something?”

Nico shrugged, “Nico doesn’t know.” Then Nico pointed the remote at Rin. “When are we starting the shoot tomorrow? No one told Nico the schedule.”

“We’re not!” Rin threw a pillow in the air, “It’s amazing. Umi actually said I can sleep in. She texted me.” Rin showed Nico her phone.

“Why do you have a picture with that fan person as your wallpaper?”

“Because Kayo-chin’s the cutest.” Rin threw herself back against the arm of the couch, hugging the pillow and grinning.

“Kayo-chin?”

Rin shrugged, “Cute nickname for the cutest girl.”

“Where is she?” Nico had spent all of dinner answering very detailed questions and then Rin had dragged the fan girl upstairs to show the girl the bunk bed she was going to get. Nozomi had decided to move into Umi’s room and Umi, ever gallant, had agreed not to strand a compatriot in a lonely hotel.

“Kayo-chin wanted to take a bath and a nap.” Rin yawned and leaned back against the pillow, “Ayase-san wore her out. They ice skated all afternoon. You’d be worn out too.”

“Nico is in excellent shape.”

“Cold makes it harder.” Rin considered tossing the pillow but Nico’s glare deflected the impulse.

Nico didn’t reply, her attention returning to the three women having a chat in the girls’ bedroom. One of the women was upset by how a male resident was treating her and getting support in her distress. Nico decided the two women would have been better off with each other, but nobody decided to be gay or bi. Some poor suckers actually seem to like being het. Nico snorted. Why in the world wouldn’t you want legs and curves and fire and someone who looked pretty and felt soft and sweet bright breathy whisperings ....Nico shook her head. She needed urban stimulation. Or a job to do. Too much quiet and daydreaming about improbable…A door slam and clamoring voices interrupted her thoughts.

“Hey, Maki, race you to the cookies.”

“Honoka, it is literally 5 feet away.”

“Ha! I won.” A pause and some opening and closing noises, then grief…”The cookies are gone.”

Rin leaned over the back of the couch and shouted, “I ate them.”

Another opening noise and then Honoka, sounding apologetic, “Sorry, Maki, there’s none in the freezer either. I can make some from scratch.”

“That’s all right,” Maki came into the room, jacket over her arm, shirt half unbuttoned and mostly untucked, chunky gray wool socks with a red toe cap looking silly with her creamy white tuxedo pants. Seeing Nico and Rin on the couch, she nodded a greeting and curled herself into an armchair by the fire, box of frosted wheat cereal in hand, “Cereal will do. What’re you watching?”

“Terrace House.” Rin grumped, “I told Nico we should watch American.”

Maki considered Nico, and then crunched a handful of cereal, “This is okay. The location is really pretty in this season. Makes me want to snowboard. And Tsubasa’s dad’s restaurant is great.”

Nico clucked her tongue and pulled her phone out, typing rapidly.

“Nico is always on social media.” Rin stated proudly, “Make sure you follow her. She can get you a lot of TWIG fans. Do you have an account for this place?”

“No.” Maki had one personal, very private TWIG account and it was locked.

Honoka bounced into the rocking chair with a bag of chips. “That’s a great idea. What’ll we call it? Cabin in The Woods?”

“That was a horror movie.” Maki crunched another handful of cereal.

Nico snorted, seemingly amused. Maki frowned.

Nico pointed at Maki, “Number.”

“What?”

“Your number.” Nico pointed to her phone.

“You are not posting my number on social media.”

Nico rolled her eyes, “No. Send list. Nico needs... “ Nico’s English ran dry and she waved in the direction of the kitchen, “Eats.”

“There’s ‘eats’.” Maki countered.

“I did a grocery store run yesterday. Everything’s stocked.” Honoka was rocking back and forth.

“No.” Nico was insistent.

Maki got up, leaned over Nico, who avoided staring down Maki’s cleavage by turning aside as the redhead reached for Nico’s phone, “Let me see….miso, bonito flakes, shoyu, sesame seeds, wakame…” Maki frowned.

“Proper breakfast.” Nico stated.

“I like cereal.” Maki insisted.

“Nico’s cooking is for...” a frown, Nico grabbed her phone back and typed quickly, then pronounced slowly, “appreciative tongue.”

“You mean palette.” Maki corrected automatically.

“Like painting?”

“No, Honoka.” Maki stared at the unyielding Nico for a minute, then slid back to her chair and cereal crunching, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Arigato.” Nico bowed her head.

“Why do they even bother with him?” Maki grumbled, as she watched the on screen shenanigans.

“Baka.” Nico decided.

“Truth.” Maki offered Rin the cereal box, Rin grabbed a handful, Nico looked horrified.

“Baka.”

“You already said that.” Maki pointed out.

“Nico meant you.”

“Huh?” Maki grunted.

“Use bowls.” Nico ordered.

“Why?” Rin and Maki echoed.

“Germs?”

“I washed my hands.” Rin defended.

“It’s my food.”

Nico shoved Rin. “You’re both worse than Cotaro.”

“Who’s Cotaro?” Maki asked.

“My little brother.”

Maki hugged the cereal box.

“He’s not here, taking your...feed.”

“Feed is for animals.” Maki stated.

“Nico knows.”

Maki snarled, grabbed another handful and crunched loudly. Nico shook her head and turned back to the screen leaving Maki to glare. Terrace House; they had a system. How did they get random housemates to get along? And sometimes even go out on cute dates. Winter was a great season for cute dates. The ice skating date this season had been super adorable. But what Maki got instead of cute dates was people harassing her food choices. She frowned at Nico, who caught the expression, smirked and stuck out her tongue. Terrace House wasn’t like this, Maki thought. Those people almost made sense. Nico made none.

A/N: I hope everyone is staying safe.

#NicoMaki #NozoEli #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #Tojo Nozomi #Ayase Eli #Hoshizora Rin #Kosaka Honoka #Tiger By The Tail #Holiday #fanfic #Love Live #Love Live School Idol Project

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