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tripthelightfandomtastic · 2 years

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Neon Moon- S.F.K

Authors Note:

Haven't been able to stop thinking about making another period piece, but this time, The Wild West! I've been on a real Sam high lately and I can't stop thinking about how perfect long haired Sammy would look dressed as a cowboy, so I thought this would be a good story for him, plus I'm from the south so this was a lot of fun to write.

Synopsis:

You and your least favorite cowboy on the ranch have to ride out on a cattle drive alone together until one night tensions run high under the moonlight.

Word count: 9.9K (this is becoming a pattern)

WARNING: 18+ Minors DNI, Enemies to lovers smut, but make it a western. Swearing, alcohol, minor injury, fingering, light spanking, raw doggin' (wrap before you tap it with a cowboy babes).

Pairing: Cowboy!Sam x female reader

Let me know what you think, I love hearing from y'all! Let me know if you wanna be tagged in a future post and hit up my messages if you want a request for a future story! YEEHAW!

Neon Moon- S.F.K

If you had half a mind you would have turned tail at even the mention of being alone with Sam Kiszka. If you hadn’t cared so much about your job and the ranch you work for you would’ve told that cattleman he could kiss your ass if he thought the two of you would even spend an hour alone together without fighting. But the thought of being stuck with any other ranch hand also made your skin crawl. These cowboys are far from gentlemen, being the only woman on the ranch was hard enough, but you’d think their mommas would’ve given them some sort of clue how to behave around a woman. They all underestimated you and your skill to hold your own when it came to riding on the range, treating you like a little girl who needed help or just a piece of ass meant to be objectified, but more than enough times you had reminded them you're a damn good shot in a showdown and not to be messed with. You’d done plenty of cattle rides in your career but usually it's quite a bigger posse, but the night before the excursion, you and the other guys decided to go to a local watering hole you and your “compatriots” called home. The usual sort were there, all seemed about the same old same old when you decided you could out drink one of your asshole ranch hands who had been giving you shit all week, calling you, ‘babygirl’ anytime you talked to him in front of the other ranchers.

“You know what, Gonzalez, I’ll show you I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be, and a finer woman than you’ll ever get. Line’em up!” You challenged the mustached, leather skinned cowboy as the bartender lined up shot glasses of tequila. Sam amongst the other cowboys sat at the table, cheering you on as you and Gonzalez made your way to the bar. Sam rubbed your shoulders like a coach hyping up his boxer ready to enter the ring. The only good thing about Sam was he was the least terrible amongst the other ranchers, but that was not saying much. He thinks very highly of himself, too good with the women in the saloon, constantly getting into petty arguments over things that shouldn’t matter and he was very particular about the oddest things. But, Sam was the only rancher not in or near his forties, so you found that you and Sam would hang back and let the older ranchers talk when you went out on your days off or riding the range. If someone asked if you and Sam were friends you would probably laugh, he wasn’t your friend per say but you didn’t dislike his company either, you got along pretty well until he would say something stupid then you remembered why you hated cowboys.

“You got this no problem, Gonzalez can’t hold his liquor for shit.” Sam leaned in to whisper in your ear as the last of the glasses were being poured. “Yeah well this ought to show him, I ain’t no lil girl.” You grabbed your first glass of your row of tequila shots, hoisting it in the air at Gonzalez and the other cowboys, tapping the bottom end on the table and tossing the whole drink back in one go. The burn of the liquor felt good, lighting the fire of anger in your belly as you slammed the glass upside down on the bar, “And I sure as shit ain’t his baby neither.” you hissed to Sam, his eyes wide from your unphased demeanor, mouth hanging in an impressed smirk. Gonzalez gave you a cocky grin, you knew he had to be joking, he picked up his glass and took it one gulp, a pained expression on his face from the clear liquor screaming down his throat. Sam and the other cowboys cheered on Gonzalez and you as you pounded through four more shots, Gonzalez and you finally on your last glass. You felt drunk as a skunk already but you stayed composed, but Gonzalez looked like he could have been knocked over by the breeze of the wind coming through those saloon doors. You and Gonzalez clinked your glasses and threw your shots back, you can hardly taste the liquor at this point, your throat just felt on fire as though you just finished screaming at the moon like a coyote. Gonzalez held the drink in his mouth for too long, not able to bring himself to swallow the agave liquor, instead he spun away to puke his guts out all over the wooden floor. Sam gripped your wrist and thrust it into the air, “We have a winner ladies and gentleman!” Sam announced proudly to the other patrons at the bar who looked less than interested in your victory. “I don’t think he’ll be messing with you anymore, sunshine.” Sam winked at you with a smile. Oh yeah, the nicknames, he does that a lot, but never like Gonzalez or some of the other cowboys did, he meant them in an endearing way, you almost liked it.

You swaggered up to a still puking Gonzalez, holding himself up weakly by leaning against the bar. “Look who the baby is now.” you boast as you kick Gonzalez in the ass, falling to the ground in his own vomit with your boot. He lands with a thud, knocking into a man not belonging to your group, spilling his ale all down his shirt. He’s a mean looking one, silver gray hair slick to his head, deep wrinkles set in his face, a twisted look in his face as he turns to look at you with a scowl, “Keep your trash on your side of the bar, bitch.” the man spits back at you as he sizes you up. You bow up your chest as you step toward the guy, but before you can say a word, Sam is already in front of you, “You better watch your fuckin’ mouth.” Sam threatens as he steps up to the man, standing just about eye to eye with the man. “Only thing I’m gonna watch is your teeth hitting the floor, you little shit.” The man intimidates, his arm rears back and is thrown forward, Sam dodges just in time for another cowboy from your group to turn from the bar and right into that punch, his two beer glasses shatter to the floor but the cowboy doesn’t falter, he throws his own punch back, slamming into the silver haired man in the nose. The bar turns into a full on brawl, the cowboys versus the silver haired man’s posse. Sam is at your side in an instant, he jerks you by your wrist right before you could get tangled in the scuffle, pulling you out the front swinging saloon doors to your horses waiting out front, tied to the bars hitching post. He unties your horse, Houston, as well as his own chestnut horse, Red. You stumble to your horse, attempting to put your foot in the stirrup but you fall hard to the dirt with a laugh, you’re hammered. “Come on ya drunk.” Sam helps you up to your feet, leading you to his horse, hoisting you up with ease on the back of the saddle, ‘fuck he’s strong’, you think to yourself as you swayed in your seat. Sam ties your horse’s reins to the horn of the saddle of his own horse, allowing him to lead your horse.

Sam pulls himself up to sit in the saddle, the sound of breaking glass, shouting and gunfire as the fight in the bar turned up to ten, “You better not fall off or I’m leaving you where you land.” Sam informs as you lean up against his back, wrapping your arms around his waist, his hands pull you to hold on tighter, you hold on as tightly as you can without hurting him as Sam’s spurs command his horse to run, leading your horse alongside, heading back to the ranch. The cool wind on your face sobering you up, as does the feeling of being on the back of a speeding horse, but the warmth of Sam’s back through his shirt pulls you back to the comfort of the alcohol in your system. The best way to describe being on the back of a speeding horse is like being on a runaway train but having Sam anchoring you to the spot makes you feel as safe as could be. The wind in Sam’s long hair plays on your cheeks, tickling them as you ride through the dark of the night towards the ranch.

Sam pulls slowly at the reins signaling his horse to come to a canter as you two ride through the gates and down the path to the bunkhouses where you and the cowboys stayed. Small cabin-like homes lined up along the road as you came closer to your home, Sam slows you two to a walk as his horse tromps up the grass outside your house to your hitching post. “We’re home. You’re not dead back there are ya?” Sam asks, craning his neck to see you. You attempt to sit up with a groan of drunken irritation but end up nearly

falling backward off his horse, you end up back where you started, grinning widely as your cheek lands pressed against Sam’s strong back, he laughs at your level of drunkenness. “You gotta let go of me, I can’t sleep on a saddle, trust me, I've tried.” Sam jokes, his hands coming to yours wrapped around his waist, you had been holding your own wrist to give you a tight grip around Sam’s middle, his hands gently encouraging your hands to fall away. Sam slides down the side of his saddle and to the ground, boots hitting the grass with a thud. He puts his arms out to help you down, but with your drunk pride you ignored his help, you kick your leg over the saddle carefully, now in a side saddle position as you go to slide down the side but you trip over your feet when your boots hit the ground, sending you straight into Sam’s arms, falling against his chest. He catches you from falling, but he’s so close to you now, ‘his eyes are such a pretty shade of brown in the moonlight, so dark, much darker than the golden hue they have during the day’, you observe with a stupid grin and a chuckle at his proximity. “Careful there sunshine, you trying to start another bar fight knockin’ fellas over like that?” Sam jokes but his eyes don’t leave yours, the two of your smiles drop as you both look at each other, “Maybe I like causing trouble.” you push off his chest, and stagger back on your two feet, keeping eye contact with his dark brown eyes, turning away only to walk up the steps of your front porch. “I’ll see ya in the morning, cowboy.” you salute as you open your screen door, “Yeah I’ll take Houston up to the barn, you just sleep that tequila off, cowgirl.” Sam smiles, mirroring your goofy salute, walking off towards the barn, horses in tow. You entered your dark house, not bothering to light up a candle as you tugged off your boots, falling face first into your pillow. Your eyes flutter closed, the memory of Sam’s face in the moonlight played underneath your eyelids.

That next morning you were met with more than just one headache, the bar fight ended with the cowboys from the ranch getting corralled by the sheriff and his deputies, some pretty badly beaten in the fight, all hauled off to the drunk tank. You felt bad but worse when the cattleman informed you that they wouldn’t be released in time and some wouldn’t be fit to ride for this drive. So it was just you and Sam for the journey, miles and miles of open plains with an insufferable loud mouth and a whole week to never hear the end of how this was your fault. Luckily the job consists of the two of you riding up to another ranch, Silver Creek Ranch, to relieve an incoming cattle drive from out of state and their crew to bring that cattle back home. It's a job meant for at least ten men but that ranch will have to supply the other hands due to your saloon disaster. You and Sam load up your packs and provisions and hit the trail before noon. You can’t help but think about last night, what was that moment you two had outside of your place? It must be nothing, you were drunk, you probably read the situation all wrong, for god sake this was Sam?! He was more akin to saloon girls, not you, besides, Sam is the worst, he’s annoying, and he’s self absorbed. You knew all of these things, but why couldn’t you stop thinking of the smell of him through his shirt when you rode home last night?

The sun hung high and hot in the sky today, you tipped back your cantine of water, sipping the cool drink. This is just the first day of this leg of the trip, Silver Creek was a four days ride, plenty of time to think and clear your mind. “I hope that’s just water in there, sunshine.” Sam called from ahead of you, “I don’t wanna hear a word outta you about last night.” You snarled back, closing the lid of your cantine tightly. The heat and daylight was killing your head that was pounding underneath your hat, you tipped your Steson to shade your eyes from the light of the scorching sun. “You don’t wanna talk about how you were three sheets to the wind?” “No.” “Fine, just don’t puke like Gonzalez.” you rolled your eyes with a grin as you swayed with the rhythm of your horse's gait. The day was long and hot, Sam filled the air with old bar songs and stories you never even asked to hear, all about his brothers you’d never met, but at least he could provide some sort of entertainment. The sun on your horse was making you hot too, his black coat only pulled more of the heat to radiate against your legs. The sun against your back had you sweating something awful, you unbutton your shirt revealing most of your bra and torso, glistening with sweat from the heat, you took your hat off and fanned yourself, the cool air felt incredible on your hot skin. Sam eyed you from the side, he had fallen behind, catching up to get a better look. “You alright? Not gonna die of a heat stroke are ya?” Sam asked with real concern in his voice, looking at you like you had lost your mind. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed Sam, but it's hot as hell out.” you shot back as you ran your hand through your hair, getting the sticking strands out of your face. “Besides, I don’t have to worry about prying eyes from those jackass cowboys back home. I’m not bothering you, am I Sammy?” you fluttered your lashes at him with that nickname you had never used before and wanted to test the waters. Was last night all in your head or did he remember that moment too? Sam’s mouth opened and stuttered searching for an answer, “N-No it’s fine! I’m fine! Fine with me!” He smiled widely but his eyes were full of nervous energy, trying to compose himself. Sam didn’t like not knowing what to say, he never had issues with the women at the saloons, so why did this make him so awkward? You smirked looking at the horizon, he cleared his throat, “There's a creek coming up here in a few miles, we can camp there tonight.” “Yeah, it’s starting to get close to the evening’ anyway.”

The two of you reached a pretty serene spot near the edge of the creek, a few tall oak trees allowed you some shade and wood for a fire, plush with green grass, a perfect place to make camp for the night. You and Sam got to the task of unsaddling the horses, knowing damn well they’d be happy to rest and drink from the creek and wander about for a while. Sam set up both of your separate tents while you got to work on a stew over the fire. Adding the freshly cut onion, carrots and potatoes to the boiling pot when you hear a splash from behind you. You turn to see both horses looking in the direction of the creek too when a head pops up from the water. “You scared the hell outta me! I thought you fell in!” You shout walking to the water's edge, your boot stepping on something soft stops you dead in your tracks. A pile of Sam’s clothes. “Oh…” you said in dismay as you looked at Sam in the water, pushing his long wet hair out of his face, he chuckled at your reaction. “Like you said, it's hot out.'' He splashed at you, the water barely making it to wet your boots. “I thought you were making camp?” “It's all set! How’s supper comin’?” “Boiling away!” “Then come on in, the water's fine!” He shouted back, you stared down at your boots, at the water Sam splashed you with. “Bring me that bar of soap from my pack will ya? I’m sure you could use a good scrubbin’ from that heat today, I don’t want to be stuck with your stink tomorrow.” He was good at being very convincing, you were hot and that water looks mighty cool and refreshing. “Fuck.” you let out an exasperated sigh, heading to his pack to grab the soap. You white knuckled the bar as you walked over to the edge of the creek, took in a breath as you looked at Sam, eyeing you from the water. “Fine, but don’t look!” you shouted across the creek, pointing a finger at him. “Ha! Don’t flatter yourself. What am I supposed to do then?” “I don't know! Enjoy the scenery?” “Not the scenery I’d like to be enjoying.” Sam whispered to himself as he turned away, too far away for you to hear.

You made your way out of your button down, toeing off your boots and tugging your pants down, all the while keeping an eye on the back of Sam’s head to ensure he kept his promise. You took a deep breath before finally taking off your bra and underwear, the cooler evening air blew softly against your body. The breeze made the butterflies in your stomach go haywire, as you stepped into the creek, the cool water felt good on your aching body. You held onto the soap as you swam to Sam, the ripples in the water signaled to him you were close to him now. “Here.” you said almost shyly as you handed him the bar, he went to turn to take it from you. “Don’t look!” you squealed as he squeezed his eyes shut, “I’m not gonna look! You're the one who said-” “I didn't say to turn around!” You splashed at him, a smile wide across his face, “Okay fine, I’ll close my eyes and you can hand me the soap, okay?” “Okay.” you agreed as you timidly swam up beside him. Just the look of him like this was beautiful, the golden glow against the sunshine on his skin, you never really noticed what a beautiful body Sam had, then again, he did always have his shirt almost always undone when he was working in the summer months and you hate to admit that you’ve been caught by him a few times staring at him. But here he was, so toned and muscular, ranching does a body good. His jawline is sharp and well defined, his eyes peacefully closed, long hair wet and wild even though he’s tried to fix it from his dip in the creek. You put out your arm, tenderly grabbing his arm to keep you from having to wade through the water since you couldn’t touch the creek floor like Sam. He jumps at the contact, “Hold out your hand.” you request him and he does so, you rest the bar of soap in his hand and swim to be behind him.

“You can open your eyes.” you inform him as you lay back to float in the water, wetting your hair and enjoying the calm of the creek and the beautiful sunset over the trees. The two of you in a comfortable silence as you both wash the day away. “Your turn.” Sam says holding the bar in the air, you swim over to him, “You can turn around, I can’t really reach the bottom here.” you tell him, your head just bobbing above the surface. “You sure?” Sam asks nervously, “Yeah, pretty sure you can’t see much of me anyway.” You assure him letting him turn around, you can tell he’s hesitant but you smile at him as he hands you the soap. “I’m gonna get out and get dressed, pretty sure I can smell supper is about done, I’ll go check.” Sam says but he’s glued to his spot, just like how he was last night. You give him a smile as you look into his golden brown eyes, he just gives you a small smirk, “I’ll leave you a towel by the waters edge.” he whispers timidly as he swims away. You smile to yourself as you wash your body, you can’t help but giggle to yourself knowing you saw Sam blush before swimming back to shore.

You make your way to the edge of the water, it is incredibly shallow so you peek up to see a mostly dressed Sam at the fire with his back to you, clad only in pants, stirring the stew in the cast iron pot in the fire, sipping from the ladle. You reach your towel Sam had left you and wrap yourself tightly in its warmth as you make your way to your tent to change into fresh clothes, fetching your warm comfy poncho and pants. Soon you emerge to take a seat by the fire close to Sam as he ladles you a bowl of stew. “Look at you, all bright, shiny and new, hm?” Sam smiles as he hands you your portion, “Yeah, I feel like a whole new woman.” You grin back at him, shaking your hair dramatically behind you. You outstretch your hands, receiving the comforting warm bowl. “I told you it’d be fine, I don’t bite.” “No, but Houston does.” you smirk looking up over Sam’s shoulder, your horse huffing out next to him. “Son of a bitch!” Sam nearly spills his hot stew all over himself as he jumps from the sudden presence of the nearly thousand pound animal beside him. You chuckle out a hearty laugh from his shock, “Ugh, you gotta get a bell on that thing!” He shouts, calming down from the scare as Houston walks away to a much more interesting spot of grass to munch on. “Don’t be mad because you know my horse is faster than yours.” “Have you always been such a snob?” Sam laughs and takes a spoonful of stew to his lips. “Snob?!” You exclaim in utter confusion. “Yeah you always talk down on Red all because he’s a quarter horse.” “I can’t help it that Arabians are just better.” “He’s a fine horse, he’s nothing special.” Sam rolls his eyes, popping a bite of potato in his mouth. “Arabians were bred for war! They’re faster and have more endurance than your quarter horse!” “They’re race horses!” “Yeah, not work horses-” “Uh huh, they can out run any other horse within a quarter of a mile! They start fast and are easier to stop!” Sam interrupts you with such an intensity you can only laugh at him, arguing over horses.

“You will never convince me otherwise, Kiszka.” you smile as you slurp up your stew. “Red is the one that got your drunk ass home yesterday before you had the chance to get shot, ya know why?” he points his finger at you inquisitively, you roll your eyes as you look at him, already knowing what he’s going to say. “Because he’s fast?” “Because he’s fast!” he shouts, raving with a huge smile like a lunatic. “I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree, then.” you compromise, taking another bite of your dinner. The two of you chatted like this for a while, it was nice, even if he was a bit stubborn but then again, so are you.

The sun goes down leaving you chilled even through the fabric of your poncho, you take a deep breath, breathing in the scent of the material. You and the rest of the cowboys including Sam had to go down through Mexico for a drive once and you didn’t expect that the night would have been so cold in the desert of Chihuahua that Sam gave you the poncho he had just bought when you were in the market that day. He had told you not to mention it, he said he just couldn’t sleep hearing your teeth chatter but you knew well enough, no cowboy would go out of his way like that for you, no other cowboy besides Sam. “Glad to see you’re still enjoying my poncho.” Sam smirks to himself as you hold it tighter to yourself, “Yeah I take it on every ride now.” you smile at him. “Well, I was looking very much to wearing that, looks better on you though.” he unscrews his flask and tips it back, wincing slightly at the taste. You blush heavily at his compliment, those don’t come easily from Sam. You yawn and give a bit of a stretch, “Well, me and my poncho here are gonna hit the hay.” You tell him as you stand, he follows you to the tents. “Yeah, me too. Big day tomorrow and all.” He says awkwardly as you both stand outside of your respective tents. The two of you just look at each other and smile, he looks like he’s thinking of what to say but nothing comes out, the air hot with tension, stronger than the night before. You look at how far his tent is and you start to wish it was just a bit closer to yours, his hair blowing gently off its resting place from the wind, how you wish that it was your hand that brushed it away from his shoulder. You snap back to reality as the wind whips your hair against your cheek, “Goodnight, Sam.” You whisper as you turn to open the flap of your tent, “Goodnight.” He simply says, smiling an almost disappointed smile at you. You fall to your sleeping bag, rolling over to stare at your tent's ceiling. “I’m an idiot.” you breathe into the silence of the clothed shelter. Sam fucking Kiszka? This was who you were losing sleep over? You couldn't believe it. He’s such a prick? But the way his skin glowed under the sunset, the water glittering light all over his body, his golden skin, the beautiful outline of his jaw. What would have happened if you let him open his eyes?

The next morning comes and you can’t help but feel anxious to get going, you need to do something to get your mind off of that damn smile Sam gave you last night. What did he want to say? What would you have said? You make yourself busy by rolling up your sleeping bag and packing up to leave. “Good morning, sunshine.” Sam smiles at you from his place next to the small fire, pulling the coffee kettle out of the hot coals. “You made coffee?” you asked, blinking in the daylight. “Yeah, figured you’d be in need of some pep in your step this morning. I’ve been up for a while, didn’t really sleep last night.” he slipped out, your breath hitched in your throat at this confession. “Oh? Really, why?” You prodded, wondering if it was the same reason you had trouble calming your own mind. “Uh, nothing, just couldn’t turn my brain off I guess.” he laughs out, only confirming to you your suspicions. You just smile to yourself as he hands you a tin cup of piping hot black coffee, not your favorite but it gets the job done.

The two of you finish packing and head out on the horizon ahead. The heat is almost just as bad as yesterday, you watch as you see Sam riding high on Red, letting the reins rest in his lap as he plays with his long hair, tying it up in a bun, messy and careless. It's gorgeous. The way he leans his head back, eyes closed, the protrusion of his adam’s apple stunning as his neck is on full display, a denim pearl snap shirt billowing in the breeze, a short necklace of some brown stone rests just below his beautiful collar bones, glistening with sweat. You can feel your mouth hanging open, it’s almost as sinful as him being naked in that creek yesterday. You shake your head of your thoughts as you stare back at the land ahead of you.

“Aren’t you hot?” He asks you, fixing some of the remaining pieces of hair dangling in his face and picking the reins back up. “Oh yeah it’s a scorcher.” You say in a way that doesn’t sound like you are trying and failing at calming your racing heart. “I promise I won’t judge you for unbuttoning your shirt like you did yesterday. I think it’s probably a bad idea to stay so buttoned up like that, you could get a heat stroke. I have some more water too if you’d like?” Sam offered kindly, you just shook your head. “No, I’ve got plenty of water. But, uh, yeah even this white shirt is making me hot.” You acknowledge, your fingers undo your shirt, this time unbuttoning it all the way, and tying the shirt around your waist, your skin automatically cooler now that it's been freed from the stuffy material, save for your bra. You smile at Sam, now that both of you were nearly at the same level of skin exposed. This area wasn’t as fertile with trees or greenery, making the surrounding area so much more brutal. You dodged a fair few snakes and weaved past cacti to get through the desert. The breeze picking back up allowed you to put your shirt back on, carrying on as you made your way deeper into the sandy waste land. The expanse of the desert was vast, the unending nature of the surrounding red dirt, boulders and mountain ranges was beautiful but the heat was infinite. The sun was making its way down and the two of you had to stop for the night.

The heat hadn’t even subsided in the night, the worst kind of weather to sleep in. You and Sam set up a fire as your nails scratched at the itching skin of your shoulder. “Ugh, fuck me.” You groaned in disappointment pushing the fabric of your shirt past your shoulder, “Ha, you’ll have to ask nicer than that.” Sam laughed as he snapped a stick over his knee, “What?” Your eyes shot wide as you looked up at him, “N-no, I got sunburned.” You explained as you could feel the heat of the irritated skin on your hand as you touched your shoulder, wincing at the feeling. “Let me see.” Sam walks over to you by the crackling fire, too dark now to see well from afar. “Ooh that’s a bad one.” He confirms as he moves your hair off of your shoulder for a better inspection. “Yeah it hurts like hell.” you complain. Sam lays a blanket out on the dusty hard desert ground. “I have just the trick to remedy your pain there cowgirl.” He smiled as he pointed a finger to you. “What is it? Whiskey?” You joked doubtfully at Sam’s idea, “That too, but no. Come take a seat.” he instructs, gesturing to the blanket. The full moon was so perfectly lit for the occasion, allowing you more vision rather than just the light from the fire alone. You take Sam’s hand as he helps you onto the blanket below, you smile at the feeling of his hand in yours. “Such a gentleman.” You jest with a sweet and uppity accent as you take your seat on the covered floor. “I have my moments.” He says, mirroring your tone, fluttering his lashes at you, he turns to grab his pack near his tent, pulling out his flask, he unscrews the lid and takes a gulp, exhaling harshly from the taste of the whiskey. “Here, I think you’ve earned it.” he smirks as he extends the flask to you, you take the silver flask from him, your fingers grazing his own as you receive it, making you nervous for no reason. You take a shot of the whiskey, you exhale a sigh of relief from the taste and the warm feeling it brings as it slides easily down your throat. “Gimme just a second.” He adds, wandering off to the edge of your camp. He walks over to a spiky plant and pulls out his knife, slicing off a piece of it. He makes his way back to you, taking a seat on the blanket across from you, crossing his legs to match your own position, “Let me see your sunburn?” Sam asks kindly, the blue of the moonlight on one side of his face while the other half of him is lit by the warm glow of the fire, he looks stunning. The butterflies in your stomach stir as you undo your shirt for him, he puts his hand on yours, “You don’t have to take the whole thing off if you don't want to?” he voices, concerned to make you uncomfortable. “No, it's fine, I mean you’ve seen me before, besides, it's medicine right?” You assure him, he was right though, you had been in your bra twice now in front of him, but he was farther away and it wasn’t this intimate. Your heart flutters at his kindness, so worried he would make you upset. You nod at him, he takes his hand away, you almost miss his touch as you continue to unbutton your top. You wince as the shirt unsticks from your body, Sam slices the plant in half longways, he peels the thing apart, it’s slick and slippery looking. “What is it?” “Aloe Vera.” he says, taking the open plant in his hand, setting the other half on the blanket. “I’ll have to rub the stuff on your sunburn.” He informs you, suggesting that you readjust how you’re sitting. You turn around, facing away from him, giving him full access to your shoulders and back, his fingers brush your hair off your shoulders and to the side, you're glad that you’re no longer facing him because you can feel your face glow with blush.

“Oh yeah it’s pretty red.” “I always get sunburned on my shoulders, that's where all of those freckles came from.” You explain, you’ve always loved the freckles on your shoulders, it was a beautiful reminder that pretty things come from pain. “I like your freckles, I saw them yesterday when we were in the creek.” He says fondly, “They’re pretty.” He breathes, almost to himself but you catch it and grin widely. He takes his hand and rubs the aloe smoothly across your reddened skin. You shiver from the chill that runs down your skin at the contact of the cold plant. “Sorry, it’s cold, it’ll help cool down your skin, it should help take the heat out.” He explains as he slowly goes over the nape of your neck and to your other shoulder. “Where did you learn this from?” You inquire, holding your hair in your hands to keep it out of his way, you braid it absentmindedly, trying to find something to do with your hands while you try to imagine how he must be looking at you. “A very kind senorita down in Juarez, I had a pretty bad sunburn, so bad I could hardly put my pants on.” “Yeah I bet she didn’t mind that.” You chuckled under your breath, “Ha, no she did not.” He smiled fondly. “Do you mind pulling these down?” Sam asks sweetly as his finger hooks under the strap of your bra and runs it up, the back of his finger running against your warm skin. You shudder a breath at his cool skin in such an enticing way, “Um, yeah, it’d probably be easier to just take it off.” You add, the garment was too tight on your shoulders and the fear of it scraping against the tender skin would be too much. “A-Are you sure?” “Yeah Sam, it’s fine, I’m facing this way anyway, it’ll be just like in the creek, remember?” You reassured him as your fingers go to the clasp on your back but are met by Sam’s hands. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” he offers gently as his fingers masterfully unclasp the material, easing the straps down your shoulders gently, as to not hurt you. You let the material fall away from your body, discarding it near you. Sam lays his hands gently on your shoulders, letting the heat be absorbed into his palms. You let out a moan of relief, it's low and guttural and drags into the air, the feeling of his cool touch working the aloe into your skin feels incredible. Sam’s ears perk up at the sound, it catches him off guard but the sound is so delicious to his ears that he keeps going, “You like that?” he asks in a lower register, softer than how he was speaking before. “Oh fuck yes Sam, God that feels so good.” you can’t help yourself, it's such an incredible feeling, the relief in his touch is intoxicating. Sam comes closer to you, the sound of his name from your voice is enough to have his blood pumping. His hands are slower as though he’s drinking in the feeling of your skin underneath his touch, he’s never touched you like this before, so tender and sweet.

The feeling of nervousness in your stomach is all but dissolved, Sam’s hands massaging your body makes the flame in you burn so hot, you can feel the weight of your nerves fall away, making you feel bolder than anything else. “Sam?” “Yeah?” the two of you whisper, as though the two of you would break this moment with too loud of a sound. “I think you’ve massaged it all in.” You say, peaking over your shoulder at him, his face lit by the moonlight. “Oh, yeah I guess I have.” he says as though he too didn’t realize. “You don’t have to stop.” You say with a seductive tone, “Oh?” He asks, “I like it, feels nice.” you say with a smile, giving him a look through your lashes. His hands resume, fingers running over your bareskin. “You’re so warm.” he whispers, “Your cool hands make it feel so much better.” you moan out, his hands feel so delightful all over your body. Sam’s hands begin to massage over your back, up your sides, up your arms, slowly and deliberately. “You have a bad case of wandering hands, Sam?” you tease at him, leaning into his touch. His hand snakes up your shoulder and your neck, he leans into your ear, his hair brushing over your own shoulders. “I don’t see you complaining about it, do I cowgirl?” his voice rasps sinfully in your ear. The warmth between your legs growing, your whole body is humming with the sensation. “Are you suggesting I want to fuck you Sammy?” You ask, leaning into his touch, tilting your head towards his face. “I think it’s quite obvious darlin’.” Sam says, leaning forward and pressing his lips on your sunburned shoulder. Your heart feels like it's about to pound right through your ribcage, “Well then I hope you got the hint.” You push back, turning your head so you can look right at him. The two of you make eye contact, the air is thick with tension, thicker than it's ever felt before, you’ve reached a boiling point. He makes the move first, his hand still on your neck, pulling you closer to him, finally planting a kiss to your lips. His lips are soft, warm and full, the smell of whiskey on his breath excites you as his tongue passes your lips. His kiss is dominating and feels so good as you just surrender to him.

His hands snake around your sides, grazing across your torso and laying softly on your waist, he breaks the kiss and leans into the shell of your ear “Is this what you were thinking about in the creek yesterday?” he whispers, the feeling sends a tingle down your neck and spine. “Did you think about what it would be like to feel my hands around you when you took your clothes off and swam to me?” His hands run up your sides, dull fingernails sliding up your body, the feeling of the cool night air, Sam’s gravelly voice and his touch hardening your nipples and exciting your skin all over. “I didn’t think you’d have the guts to do it.” You tease him, hoping to push his ego in your favor. “You don’t think I haven’t seen the way your hips roll back and forth when you ride?” He asks as his hands fall to hold your hips tight, making your back arch against him at the feeling of his grip. “The way your breasts bounce when your horse runs, especially when you unbuttoned your shirt yesterday, trying to get my attention.” He says as he brings his hands up to your breasts, squeezing them softly. You gasp at the sensation of his hands, you can’t help but look at his large hands, those gorgeous veins running all across the tops of his skillful hands. You watch as he sweetly massages them, “Worked, didn’t it?” You say slyly at him, watching him work at your chest, “I’ve been thinking of you cowgirl, I just wanted to have you all to myself.” He says as he attaches his lips to your neck, his hands wander down to your pants, “Do you want this too?” He asks before attempting the buckle on your pants, “More than anything.” You answer back, smiling at his still gentleman-like question, he wanted to know you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

His hands work at the fastening on your belt, undoing it and pulling down your pants, you help as you take your boots off and work the pants down your knees, leaving you only in your underwear. He’s still behind you, you lean to sit up against him, his hard body, so muscular and strong against your bare back. “So beautiful like this, with the moon on your skin.'' he says as one hand slides up to your neck while the other rests just above your panties. “So delicate.” he breathes against your ear as he peaks over your shoulder to watch as he slips a hand down over your underwear. You both watch as he places his fingers over your clothed pussy, you take in a soft breath of surprise of the feeling, his warm fingers send a beautiful feeling up your body. The warmth of your arousal presses through the material and onto Sam’s fingertips. “So wet for me already darlin’?” He smiles against your cheek, giving you a kiss on your blushing skin, he watches your expression as he dips his hand into your underwear. Your eyes fluttering as you breathe in a deep but shaky breath, lips part as a breathy moan escapes them. Sam works to etch that memory into his brain, to hold onto that reaction for forever. “You look so pretty when I touch you.” His voice rattles against his throat, his voice like this is so rough and sexy, it only makes you want him more. He slips his fingers between your folds, collecting your arousal as he slides his fingers up. “Oh baby doll you are soaked.” He smiles, you hook your fingers around your underwear and slide the garment down your legs, discarding it with the rest of your clothes, giving him full access to your body. You open your legs wider for him, he slides his fingers up and rolls his fingers over your clit, you moan out at his touch, back arching as he tightens his hold on your neck slightly, the vibrations from your voice against his palm sends a feeling down to his cock, having you under his touch like this, so submissive, so out of character from your strong willed nature. “No one around baby, just you, me, and the desert.” He whispers against your ear, warm breath fanning across your neck. His fingers work in a perfect circle over your clit, begging for more. “Let the desert hear how good you feel.” Sam’s voice says as he moves his hand from your neck to your breast, giving you full permission to be as vocal as you pleased. He slips his fingers into you, “So tight.” “Fuck, Sam.” You moan at the feeling of his presence between your legs. He squeezes your breast in his hand, his lips kissing your neck as the pace of his fingers find a steady rhythm. You rest your head against him, laying softly on his shoulder, you snake a hand behind his head, nails softly scratch at his scalp as you take a fistful of his hair, desperate to hold onto something that will make you feel grounded to the Earth.

His fingers find a faster pace, curling up into a scrumptious ‘come hither’ motion, brushing against your sweet spot and your hips buck instinctually, you moan out his name, he feels incredible. His fingers don’t slow down, the way you’re breathing and the steady flow of his name strung along with the occasional swear is a good indication you’re nearing your peak. Your grip on his hair tightens, as you pull him to you to kiss him, it's a hot and needy kiss, full of desperation from both sides. You are putty in his hands as he pumps his fingers into you, his hand on your breast falls away and comes to your clit. You break the kiss as you throw your head back, “S-Sam, I’m-” “Cum for me darlin’.” he says, allowing you to fully let go. The coil in your stomach releases its tight hold as your legs spread wide and your eyes squeeze closed as your body is wracked by your orgasm. “Ride my fingers baby, let it all go.” He whispers directly into your ear, working you through your climax, you obey his command as you rock back and forth on his fingers, his voice alone could have brought you to this very spot. Sam slowly stops his hands as you twitch beneath him, careful to not overstimulate your body. “Such a good girl for me.” He smiles, pushing another kiss into your neck.

You have to take a moment to catch your breath, the stars are so clear tonight, you feel like you must be in heaven. You turn to finally be face to face with him, he brings his fingers up to his lips, sucking on them until they pull away clean. “You taste beautiful, darlin’.” His eyes dark with lust as he practically moans out the words, making you so much wetter. He’s still completely dressed and the whole time you rode through your orgasm you couldn’t help but think of the way his body looks under that denim shirt. The sight of you must be otherworldly the way Sam is staring at you, naked and on your knees in the middle of the desert with the moon over head and the firelight beside you, face flushed and eyes wide, lips parted with a grin that says, ‘come and take me’. You crawl over to him on all fours, your hands on his thighs, his lips are just a kiss away. “You better fuck as good as you look, Sammy.” you tease, the tone in your voice is dominating but you want him to take control of you, full control. “That was just a hint of what’s to come, sweetheart. You think you can take it?” “I’d like to see if you could try to tame me, baby.” You taunt back, his eyebrow lifts slightly as a smirk plays on his lips, accepting your challenge with a kiss. It’s different from the kiss you shared with him earlier, it’s slower, it feels so much more intimate. You sit up, holding his face in your hands as you make your way to sit on his lap, wrapping your legs around him and grabbing a fistful of hair as you make yourself comfortable on top of him. He groans against your kiss, the feeling of your naked body sitting in his lap. You grind your hips down on him, rolling back and forth to get some friction to relieve the tension building between your legs again. His hands gently scratches down your back, he settles his arms tightly around your waist. The kiss soon becomes hotter and heavier as you both are in need of the other, craving the feeling of him again. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, gently pulling when a guttural moan rolls up through his throat. The sound makes you grin a devilish smile, releasing the hold on his lip you pull away to look down at his pearl snap shirt, buttoned up too much for your liking, you take both hands and pop the snaps open, exposing that perfectly sculpted torso clad in golden tanned skin. “Fuck, you really need it bad huh, baby?” Sam says, head tilted up to look at you, you can only nod in response, that all too familiar grin on his face. “Let me take care of you then.” He says, slipping the shirt off his shoulders, he leans into your body, taking one of the nipples on your plump breast in his mouth. You gasp at the sensation, his other hand taking up your other breast, playing with the mound of flesh, squeezing roughly. “Fuck Sam.” You groan as you let your head fall back in pleasure as Sam lightly bites down on the hardened bud in his mouth, licking up where he had bitten.

“I need to feel you.” Sam breathes against your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Then take me.” You punctuate by pulling his hair to tilt his head up, to make him look up into your eyes from his position beneath you. He moves one hand from your back to your thigh as he tightens his grip on you to pick you up and lay you down on your back on the blanket below. He holds himself over you to kiss you once more then retreats to unfasten his pants, he wastes no time getting back to you, leaving him in his underwear before you. His cock is strained against the thin fabric, the outline makes your heartbeat quicken, he was much bigger than you anticipated. You looked up at him with parted lips, open in awe as you stared up at him through your lashes. “You’re beautiful.” The words practically falling out of your mouth in a breathy voice. Sam smiled as he came down to kiss you, his hand cupping your jaw as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. His hardened erection pressed against your thigh as he kissed you, you lifted your leg just enough to apply a sweet amount of pressure against him, he moaned into the kiss, a sound you wanted to hear for all time. He finally slid his underwear off, revealing the full size of him in his hand. “Holy shit, Sam, please.” You sighed as he pumped his shaft a few times, “Tell me darlin’, what do you want?” He teased, your core ached for his presence. “You, Sam, I want you to fuck me. I need it bad.” You practically begged, but you didn’t care, you would have sold your own boots if it meant Sam would put you out of your misery and give you what you so desperately needed.

“I can fix that.” He said with a devilish smile, eyes rake over your awaiting body. He leans in close, holding himself over you, his hardened cock teasing your slit. You whine under him, he looks up at your eyes, your brows knit together, eager to take him inside you. “Please Sam.” You cry out, he looks you in the eyes as he slides himself slowly inside of you, inch by perfect inch. The two of you release shaky moans as you both become acclimated to the feeling of each other. “Mmm you feel so fucking good baby.” Sam moans out, his eyes closing in pure bliss as he rolls his head backward. “You’re so big.” You breathe, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of him deep inside you, buried to the hilt. “We can take it slow.” Sam assures, you blush at his thoughtfulness, he may be a gruff cowboy but deep down, he’s a big softie who really just wants to make you feel good. You grip at his hips, pulling him closer to you, signaling him to move. He comes to lean closer to you, kissing your neck to comfort you and push away any discomfort as he begins to thrust slowly. You moan as you rock back into him, the familiar feeling you had been missing out on for so long comes back, you couldn’t remember the last time you had been bedded like this, it took a bit of adjusting but you were back into the flow of him. You claw at his back, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer to you, allowing him to angle deeper inside of you, Sam picks up on your cues and increases his pace, bringing him to a delightful rhythm that has you mewling under him.

“Oh Sam.” you sigh at the feeling of him slamming into you, he’s gorgeous, the way his hair and pendant around his neck sway back and forth with his rhythm is hypnotizing. “You like that darlin’?'' he asks, his voice trembling slightly from his movement as he pounds into you. You can only bite down on your lip and nod to answer him. His grip on your hip is tight, keeping himself grounded to you. “I wanna ride you.” You manage to tell him, he looks at you with a grin as he sits up to hold both of your hips on his hands, you lock your ankles around him and your hands cling to his sides as he lays backward onto the blanket, propping you up on his lap without having to disconnect from him. His hair is splayed out over the blanket, a look of pure desire in his big brown eyes as he looks up at you, mouth parted open as he watches you above him. Your body lit by the blue of the big full moon that hangs over you, you place your hands on his chest, his own hands resting on your hips. You begin to rock yourself back and forth on top of him, he’s deep inside you now, this angle allowing him to be fully buried inside of you. You begin to bounce on top of him, your breasts heaving up and down, up and down as you feel how perfect his cock makes you feel. Sam’s hands run up your thighs and to your ass, squeezing tightly to the mounds of flesh in his hands. His hand rears back and spanks you on the ass, you gasp and smile wide, throwing your head back, his hand gripping tight on the muscle beneath his large hand, the warmth of his palm soothing the sting he had inflicted before. You can’t help but moan out his name, the look on his face was that of pure beauty and ecstasy, he’s stunning, glowing beneath you. The burning in your knees is worth it to feel him hitting your sweet spot like this. “You ride like a fucking angel.” he groans, his eyes closing from the feeling of you on top of him like this. You look up to the moon above you, something about this act under the sky makes you feel like the most human you have ever felt. You lean forward, knees aching from the position you were in, Sam senses your fatigue and grips your ass as he brings his knees up and starts to jackhammer up into you. “Oh fu-fuck.” You cry out into the night as you throw your head back, letting Sam take control, his hand makes his way to your clit, thumb running across it at a pace so perfect you know you’re close. “S-Sam, I’m so close-” “Me too.” He grunts out, eyes screwed closed as he focuses on his pace, you lean back into his thrusts, allowing him to slam into you so deeper and harder. “Fuck-” The words get caught in your throat as Sam’s digit runs over your clit faster. Then all at once, your orgasm hits you hard, harder than before, you clench around him, pulling Sam to his own climax. He’s a whining mess, gripping your thighs tightly as he cums deep inside of you. The sounds of your moans and curses drift into the desert air, floating up to the neon moon above you.

You lay on top of him, your legs quivering beneath you, the two of you gasping for breath. You press a sweet kiss against his neck, almost as a sign of thanks. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, taking in his warm scent, recalling the memory of that night on horse back when he took you home. “So what was that you used to say about hating cowboys?” Sam chuckled with a smile that you could hear in his voice. You sit up wearily and look into his sexed out eyes, “Maybe not all cowboys then.” you smile, planting a kiss on his lips. You roll over and lay next to him, he pulls you close, your head resting on his chest, his arm around your waist, thumb running softly against your skin. You both stare up into the constellations above, listening to the pitter patter of the not so tough cowboy’s heart, drifting to sleep as his fingers played with your hair. This trip may not turn out to be so bad after all.

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lsholland · 3 years

Text

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 (𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 - "𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠?"

Word count: 3.7k

tw: addictions (alcohol, drugs), swearing, disease, murder...

genre: psychological thriller / suspense / drama

Synopsis: Tom Holland is Hollywood's #1 celebrity and is adored all around the world. But this rise to fame hasn't been easy for him. With fame comes his own demons: addiction issues, a relationship that's about to end and...he doesn't know it yet, but he's about to kill an innocent woman. How is he going to get through it?

You can also read it on Wattpad.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated :)

"Tom! Tom!!! TOM!!!" shouts a woman in a black hoodie among a hysterical crowd of young boys and girls trying to get this man's attention. "PLEASE!!! I love you so much" her voice crackles, she's sobbing in despair.

He stops walking and stands right in front of her, a sharpie pen between his fingers and an unnatural grin on his face. Even though these people claim they love him, he's tired of them. It's something with the drama, the screams, and the perpetual inconsideration that drains his energy. His straight face says it all, if only they weren't obsessed with his looks, he'd be pleased to spend time with them. But he knows he's just an object of their fantasies. He forces a smile, or something close to it, and accepts to take a picture with her. He stands next to her, his arms in his back, his fingers intertwined and shakily holding the pen, glancing at the camera lens, lost in his thoughts. His body is present in the moment, but his mind is thousands of kilometres away in the universe that is his brain.

And she's so happy to finally have that precious picture that her smile shows all her impeccable teeth; she's sweating and rapidly breathing and laughing with the same high-pitched voice as everyone else; she's just a typical fangirl. All her friends gather around her and whisper as if they were hiding a secret from an alien.

And onto the next one. Same hysteria, same cry for help, miserable for his attention. She hands him a picture of him in a Spider-Man suit and asks for an autograph while she's filming the scene with her brand-new iPhone.

It has to do with the way they treat him. The way they pretend he doesn't notice their weird behaviour. The way they simply believe he's not a human being. That he must be good-looking, happy, nice, and funny all the time.

"We've gotta go" says his assistant as he presses his shoulder with his hand. Tom looks at him with relief and closes his eyes for a second. He lets out a sigh as a soft smile appears on his angelic face.

"A'ight, I'm sorry guys" he apologises, but that's not enough. Many of them start crying and push through the thin barrier to get a hold of him; like monsters that haven't been fed, like addicts when you can't provide their usual dose of drugs. They look so disappointed and hopeless; leaving now would reduce all his efforts to dust. Keeping a good image and reputation is the key. He doesn't want to be hated.

Guilt rushes through him like a thrill; he glances at his watch and gulps. He gives them another 5 minutes for pictures, autographs, and hugs. Even if he's late. Even if he's going to miss his interview. Because he owes his success to them; or at least he thinks he does.

And when he goes into the back seat of this huge black SUV with no registration plate, he slams the door shut and . . . Peace. Finally, the moment he's been waiting for. The pressure leaves his body like a bubble burst. He sighs and relaxes his muscles, his head falling back on the seat. His eyes are closed; he doesn't say a word for the whole ride. His time alone is so rare and valued.

And when they arrive in front of that gigantic building to pass this final interview, Tom prepares to show his usual bright smile and pretends he's happy. Nobody notices what's hidden in his gaze. But his eyes are telling the truth. His eyes show how hopeless he is. But nobody dares looking into his soul. They only see the superficial layer, the mask he puts on every day. Because nobody knows who he is. Nobody cares about him.

It's so much simpler to ignore sadness in other people. We just tend to believe only good moments are worth sharing. We just pretend we're happy all the time because that's what everyone else does. And why would he show his sadness anyway? He has it all: a girlfriend, loads of money, a caring family, success . . . What can he be sad about?

The interview is done, Tom is in the car, cruising in the city. He's finally going home after a long, tiring, and stressful day.

He unlocks his phone and checks his text messages. They're plain and all related to his fame or his work. All his conversations are so self-centred. What are his plans? What does he like? And what's his opinion on this subject? He, he, him, him, again and again!

He's so tired and wants to be entertained. This empty space laying in his heart and brain becomes bigger and bigger. It's become harder to ignore it, especially when he's alone like tonight. Besides, he's too used to entertain others that he almost forgets what it's like to be passive and watch people do things. As if the world revolved around him.

Here we go. Instagram. The most toxic of all social media platforms. He scrolls through pictures of his friends. The famous ones on red carpets or photoshoots; the anonymous ones a drink in their hands. They're all so superficial. All the same. And the algorithm showing him pictures fans have taken of him earlier today . . . Icing on the cake. Why would he watch this? He doesn't need it. But he decides to read what the fans say, because he's curious. Or because he's obsessed with what people think of him. He needs to be known, loved, remembered, at the centre of attention – adored. He wouldn't need to sell his soul to the devil because it's already in him, and he's now paying the price of this sin.

The fans he met earlier, who were so happy to finally see their idol, were bullying him on social media. They aren't even aware of it. All these people objectifying him, posting pictures of his family – invading his privacy – and saying he can't 'write' or 'walk' or do anything properly because he's just human. They say they are joking except it's not funny. Tom's feelings are hurt, again. He should have written 'you're' instead of 'your', he should have noticed there was a hole in the grass and not trip . . . These images are roaming in his brain like a car's spinning wheels when you brake at 60 miles per hour; the pressure of the tyres scratching your mind, and the intrusive thoughts that can't be stopped like the wheel. Ever. And you eventually hit the wall.

He glances at the rear-view mirror and see his driver focused on the traffic lights. He glances around to make sure no paparazzi is watching and takes a flask out of his back pocket. His trembling hands poorly hold it, but he needs to drink something to feel better; to feel energised. He spills his boose on the leather seats and sighs with annoyance. Grabbing his hoodie feels like lifting the weight of the world; he manages to wipe it off and savours the sweet taste of vodka. Just one sip can't hurt.

That's how you know it's too late.

"Do you really need it?" says the assistant in the front passenger seat who caught him.

"It's just a drink" Tom replies instantly, frowning his eyebrows.

"I'm just worried about you, you know" he adds as he turns around and looks at him in his eyes.

"There's nothing to worry about," Tom mumbles as he feels relaxed "I can stop if I want to."

"If you say so . . ."

And even the people surrounding him day and night aren't trying to help him. Everyone's aware he's slowly getting addicted and is wasting his potential, everyone but the fans. Everyone pretends to love him, but nobody truly cares. They're just after his money, power, and fame . . .

It's like watching him tiptoeing on the deck's edge of a ferry and being shocked when he eventually falls off in the unforgiving cold, dark sea.

He smiles when the car stops in front of his London house. That's the only place where he feels like he can truly be himself. Or the last of it. After all, who is he really? Spider-Man? An actor that pleases 13-year-old girls? A failure? An impostor? Or no one at all?

What happened to the young boy who was excited about everything and anything? What happened to the one who used to laugh more than he'd breathe?

He is torn. He can't love anymore. He's had many girlfriends, each one more famous and beautiful than the last, but they couldn't bring him back to life. He truly loved them though. He felt good with them and always thought they were a match until he messed up. Making up a behaviour so they'd leave him because he's not strong enough to quit. Because he is just like this. A kid who can't handle success.

He currently has a girlfriend. Everyone loves her. He thinks she's too good for him though. Too beautiful, too clever, and maybe too famous. He feels like she's achieving much more than he is and that scares him. He can't even make love to her without feeling like he's not worth it. So, he ignores her calls, takes days to reply to a text, becomes cold as stone, distant, and unstable. This is how cowards break up. But she holds on to him.

Once he gets home, he sits on his couch and starts watching TV. His stomach is empty; he hasn't eaten all day but the only thing he wants is to drink more. It's like a voice in his brain that takes control of his body. He sees everything but can't do anything about it. The smell, the thirst, the mind that can't think of anything else. His hands are shaking, breathing becomes uneasy, he's uncomfortable in his own skin; he's a stranger to himself until he drinks. He's desperately waiting for someone to help him. But they're all too busy with their own problems.

He tries to drink from his flask, but it is empty.

He groans. "One more isn't gonna hurt" he whispers to himself as he walks towards the kitchen area. He opens the fridge and grabs a cold one.

And another one.

And another one . . .

The saddest thing about the situation is that he truly believes in his excuses. He doesn't realise he desperately needs help.

Now, the fridge is empty. But he still doesn't feel it. He doesn't feel the uninhibited state he wants to reach. He's still a victim of his thoughts; the sadness, the anger, the feeling of being trapped in a never-ending game.

He glances at his 80,000 dollars Rolex and decides it's time for him to go to a bar. He grabs his phone and calls his assistant. No answer. He calls his second assistant then. No answer.

"It's only 2AM, come on!" he grunts.

Only?

He thinks for barely a second and grabs his keys and gets into his car. There's a night bar in Kingston that he absolutely loves, and he knows he's always welcome there.

As a celebrity he's obviously welcome everywhere. But he noticed the way people looked at him with pity when he spent an entire night drinking without speaking to anyone. Alone in his thoughts that only he knows. It's different there, the barmaid usually talks to him and entertains him. And she just doesn't care he's famous, which is rare nowadays.

He's been caught drunk driving many times, but he was always released without a word because he's so famous. As if all the police officers have daughters who worship him.

Maybe his problem is thinking he's above all. He who used to be so humble, kind, and generous.

He parks in front of the venue, but the lights are off. He rolls down the window and squints to read the paper sticked to the door.

The bar is closed for annual leave.

"Fuck it!" he shouts. He checks on his phone if another bar is open tonight. Miss Jackson is. It's not the bar he usually spends his time in, but the beers are good and it's not too crowded for him. He absolutely wants to avoid fans tonight.

Most of them are underage, it's dangerous for him. One mistake and he'd become a paedophile. That's why he swore to himself to never do anything with a fan, no matter how hot they are. It's harder to respect this rule when he's drunk though.

"Let's go then" he says in a lazy way, the alcohol slowly taking control of him.

His eyes are red, everything he sees is blurred. He can't keep his thoughts straight.

He starts the car and puts some music to lighten his mood. He needs this to feel better. If something bad happens while he's drunk it ruins his mood. And when this happens . . . he starts having very dark thoughts. The kind of thoughts you better keep to yourself if you don't want people to be scared for you. Where your life is on the line, and you don't care about tomorrow because you just want to stop it . . . The sadness; the anxiety; the constant fears. Because the only moment you feel happy is when you sleep, as if you were dead. Tom feels like this all the time, and he hides it well.

But now he's focusing on the moment. The boose allows him to feel better. He listens to this pop song and its energy is spreading in his body. He's pushed by the music; the excitement and adrenaline take control over his body. He's ready to go.

He quickly backs up the car. He's so excited to go to the bar to finally drink some more and—

BOOM! His car abruptly stops, it sounds like a crash. An alarm is wailing, echoing in Tom's ears, making him feel dizzy. The shock was so intense he hit his face against the airbag of his steering wheel leaving his skin half-burnt. He passes out.

Tom startles as he wakes up, "what the fuck just happened?" he hisses. He stays still giving time to his brain to proceed the information and checks his rear-view camera. It's been disconnected.

He jumps out of his car and checks what happened. He collided with another vehicle. A much smaller car with a crushed bumper. Tom's car is damaged as well, but he doesn't care, he walks over the small Fiat 500 and scans the surroundings. His heart is pounding; air isn't traveling down to his lungs. He suffocates as if he were trapped in a cage down the ocean. He doesn't control his shaking fingers rubbing against his sweating forehead. His lips are parting, gasping for air, while his eyes are wide open looking straight to the ground.

For a second, he realises that he can be in big trouble if anyone knows about this. This can be enough to be fired by the Marvel Studios and ruin his entire career, his life. No one wants a drunk superstar to ruin a movie's reputation.

He hesitates. He wants to run away. He faintly grabs his head in his weak hands and is heavily panting. He can taste iron on the tip of his tongue. He rubs his forearm against his mouth and feels wobbly at the sight of his own blood.

What is he going to do? Has someone seen what happened? And if he leaves, what happens to the unconscious person in the car? But if he helps them, what guarantees him he's not going to be prosecuted? And lose it all? But what if he leaves and this person dies? What if they die and someone knows he killed them? Each scenario is getting worse and worse.

There's only one viable option for him.

"Hey, are you alright?" he says as he approaches the fuming car.

He glances around, but the street is empty. That's the reason why he usually loves this place; because it's so quiet.

"Are—Are you okay there?" he stutters.

He opens the door and see blood. Dark, thick, red blood. An unconscious woman with blood all over her face is lying on the steering wheel. Her car is so old there is no airbag. The shock must've been tough for her. She might even have a brain injury.

Tom places his hand on this woman's neck to check if her heart is still beating. It's weak. She needs help or she'll die because of his stupidity, because he's a drunk who can't even check his surroundings before backing up his car. Poor woman whose life is on pause for his mistake. She'll die because of him.

He dials 999 on his cell phone and repeats what he's going to say once someone picks up the phone.

"There's a woman—she's injured! Car accident!" he cries. He doesn't even try to make sentences; he just wants this to be over. "Please come quickly"

"What's your name, sir?"

His body is wavering, tears are streaming down his face – it's absolute chaos in his mind. He can't tell his name; he'd rather die than publicly suffer from the consequences of his actions. He needs to fly away; he needs to escape from this nightmare. He needs to leave, and now.

He hangs up in a hurry. No one can know he is drunk, and he almost killed someone. He walks back to his SUV and catches one last glimpse of this woman's body before closing the door and driving away.

As soon as he leaves, he regrets his decision, but sticks to it anyway. His soul is crying for him to go back there and help this dying life, but his cowardice tells him to hide and wait until this is over. He's reaching his lowest point, and the only person he wants to see now is his mum. When she holds him in her arms, the weight of his problems is bearable; he can even feel relaxed. And he wishes she'd be able to do it tonight. But it would kill her to know what monstrosity her son just did . . .

He's home, all alone. It's been a few hours since the incident happened, and Tom can't think of anything else. This woman's face, her blood all over the windshield, her crushed car.

Why didn't she see him? Why was she driving so fast in an empty street at night? So many questions roam in Tom's brain, it's slowly eating him alive.

He's sobering up as the morning lights glow on his face. It's already 6AM and he hasn't slept at all. He watches himself in his bathroom mirror and only see dark circles, pale skin, and the features of a monster. The broken blood vessels in the white of his eyes give him an evil aspect. He raises his arm and see the pink burnt skin, another scar for life. How on earth could he leave a dying woman?

He doesn't only feel remorse; he doesn't recognise himself. He's lost and wonders what happened in his life to be so miserable he considers his career more important than someone else's life.

He firmly rubs his face with the palms of his hands and takes off his clothes in a simple sweep. He crawls onto his bed and covers his body with a weighted blanket. He's almost trying to forget he exists when he squeezes his eyes shut and stops breathing until his lungs pressure him to open his mouth. Nature has done a wonderful job preventing us from suffocating on purpose. What a bummer for Tom; he would be dead already if he could just stop breathing . . .

He takes his phone, his only friend and his worst enemy, and checks the local news. Maybe they've mentioned the accident and he'll be able to know what happened to his woman. Not many articles have been published since last night. He keeps scrolling until he finds what he's been looking for.

25-year-old in coma after accident in Southeast London, fugitive remains unfound

Tom's heart skips a beat; this article must be about her. For a second, he apprehends and hesitates to read the article. But his guilty mind needs to know everything about what happened since he deserted.

As he reads the article, he gently places his hand over his mouth to stop him from crying out loud. The woman was so heavily injured they needed to put her under artificial coma to keep her alive. She was on her way to meet her dying husband, in the same hospital she's at now.

Such an emotional shock inflicts a profound pain to Tom's heart. He sobs in silence and passes out due to sleep deprivation. He's finally at peace; no thought, no nightmare. His mind is off, and his body is fully regenerating. His brain is solely focused on keeping his body alive. His soul is resting for a few hours until his cell phone starts ringing.

Tom wakes up with a start and answers his phone without checking who's on the line.

"Tom, what are you doing? I've been knocking at your door for the past 10 minutes," shouts his brother "what happened to your car? Dude what are you doing? You've gotta get ready for GQ!"

"Wh—What?" he mumbles.

His brother knocks at the door. Tom gets off his bed and walks down the stairs with difficulty. When he opens the door, the lights blind him, it's too sunny outside. He'd rather stay inside for a few more hours.

His brother checks him out and sighs. "Have you been drinking? The photoshoot is in less than an hour and you look like shit"

Tom remains silent, trying to process the information.

"And what happened to your car, man?"

And here it is. Every memory comes back in his mind like fireworks and his feet are failing, he can barely stand still. He grabs his brother by his shoulder and holds him tight in his arms. He's the only one who can really help him feel better. He wants to tell him everything that happened, but he can't admit he's got a problem.

He's lost.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! What do you think so far of the story? Tom is in a very bad situation, I wonder how he's going to get through it?

Please like this post to be in the taglist.

#tom holland #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland fiction #tom holland imagines

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sweettodo · 3 years

Note

LMFAO- can u headcannon the aot warriors + y/n in a zoom meeting. and y’know y/n a little baddie and wears a revealing outfit 😩😏

i just saw this tiktok of some fanart of them in a zoom meet and it was the cutest thing EVERRRR.

EREN-

• doesn’t even bother to get out of bed, he just rolls over, picks his laptop from the floor and joins the zoom only to fall back asleep.

• levi constantly attempts to get his attention, and eren doesn’t even budge.

• seldom awake, but when he IS, he will usually interrupt to ask a stupid question: ‘hange where did you get that cool plant?’ or ‘jean i smell you through the zoom call, did you shower today?’

• enjoys changing his background to an odd photo of jean or one of his friends.

• hange will be the first to kick eren out of the zoom, and it’s not like mr. jaeger cares or anything.

• not to mention, he leaves his camera on too. so everyone sees shirtless eren passed out under the blankets with not a regard in the world.

• eats while on the call.

• one day, ( he still thanks god he was awake to see this ) you were working out in the morning before realizing you were already 10 minutes late to your meeting.

• jumping on to the meeting, sweaty, in a revealing sports bra and shorts, you’re apologizing profusely to levi and hange for being late.

• ‘lookin’ good y/n’ eren cackles, but what you or your friends realizing was that eren was now breathless, trying not to stare at you with every bit of will-power he could muster up.

• ‘seems that eren’s pretty awake now, heh’ jean taunts, eren quickly turns off his camera, so he could enjoy looking at you, who decided to wear... that

JEAN-

~ also likes to change his background, plays on his xbox with or without connie, headphones on his head and screaming while levi is muting jean to proceed talking.

~ jean has the pc set up and everything with the two monitors and the colorful custom pc.

~ eren makes fun of him because he uses a microphone. like the ones that have the stand and everything.

~ his room is never fully lit. he used leds, ( blue or green tbh ) shades are always closed.

~ ‘jean, turn off the game. now’ hange swears she tells him everyday.

~ ‘hey jean, didn’t you wear that sweatshirt last time? do you have any other clothes?’ eren ridicules, of course interrupting levi, who’s talking.

~ ‘i see the crumbs on your bed, jaeger!’

~ jean finds himself staring at you once you joined the call, wearing a... revealing... tank top with a very generous bra. his mouth growing increasingly dry.

~ he assumes that no one seems to notice, but when his friends see that he’s quite literally frozen in place, mouth slightly open as he’s looking at your chest.

~ ‘jean’

~ no answer.

~ ‘jean!’

~ ‘hu- yeah, yes?’

~ ‘is your internet having issues? you’re frozen’

MIKASA-

: sits at her desk, she has a picture collage of her, eren and armin on her wall.

: pristine white walls, very clean.

: always needs to call eren to wake him up before the meeting so he doesn’t miss it.

: if she forgets to call eren to wake him up, he blames her for missing the meeting.

: mikasa and armin are always firsts to the meeting.

: she always speaks, and fully participates.

: levi and hange usually are apt to call on her first for her opinions.

: she never turns her camera off, she’s wearing a comfortable but appropriate outfit, jeans and a blouse or shorts and a t shirt.

: sends group emails, for literally whatever reason.

: compliments others backgrounds ( their rooms ).

: reminds eren that his room is a pigsty and he needs to get out of bed, ‘eren, it’s 11:30am, get up.’

: ‘jean, you need to make your bed once and awhile’

: she always compliments what you’re wearing too, ‘i love that top y/n, where’d you get it?’

: and will have absolutely no problem with putting the boys in their place when she catches them gawking at you.

: ‘you guys are like dogs’

: she tells levi to kick them from the meet if they keep staring at you.

ARMIN-

∘ always early.

∘ room is neat, warm looking and he sits on the edge of his bed with his laptop in his lap.

∘ most talkative one here besides levi and hange.

∘ also calls eren every morning to ensure he’s awake.

∘ armin has a notebook and pencil next to him, constantly writing down notes.

∘ always has a presentation ready, a powerpoint or a document to show everyone.

∘ usually sticks to casual, t shirt and jeans.

∘ room is well lit, camera and mic are always on.

∘ also reminds the others to pay attention and be quiet, pleading with them, ‘guys, captain levi is trying to talk.’ also always lectures eren to get out of bed once and awhile.

∘ he doesn’t really pay much attention to what the others are wearing, but he can’t help but glance a few times at your outfit for the day.

∘ it makes his heart pound of his chest when you move to stretch or prop for hand under your chin to listen, your chest on display, arms squeezing them together only a little. he was in awe, swallowing hard and trying not to blush.

∘ avoiding you at all costs.

∘ armin won’t admit it, but he’s a hypocrite, so he’s gonna lecture the boys not to objectify you and tells you that he’s sorry for their immaturity.

∘ but yet here he is.

LEVI-

» cup of tea ready.

» sits at his dining room table.

» dreads having to do the zoom meet, so he’s pretty short tempered the whole time.

» wearing a button up per usual.

» well lit, has a plant in the corner of the room, most likely a cat in the windowsill.

» very english teacher-esque.

» swears the whole time at eren.

» kicks eren and jean out almost every zoom meeting.

» relies on armin for detailed information and analysis’

» needed to ask hange in secret how to present his screen, pin / mute people because he was pretty inept at computers for the most part.

» doesn’t use the mouse pad on his laptop, he connects a mouse because he despises that stupid mouse pad.

» the second he sees what you’re wearing, he shakes his head, ‘tch, i can hear these hounds now’

» yells at the boys to stop being perverts.

CONNIE-

‣ similar to jean, he also used led’s most of the time.

‣ has posters on his walls of music artists, shows, games and people

‣ he sits at his desk, which is cluttered, occasionally plays video games ( not as much as jean )

‣ zones out, looking at something random and blocks out a lot of what hange and levi says.

‣ yawns like 80 times in the span of an hour.

‣ drinks soda, or surfs the web.

‣ his bed is made, and he wears sweatshirts and sweats because like eren, he just got out of bed too.

‣ though connies bed is made, he still has clothes littered here and there, has a rack of shoes in the corner of his room ( he’s a sneaker head )

‣ most likely to not turn his camera on because he leaves the room to do god knows what.

‣ plays imessage games during the call.

‣ teases eren constantly.

‣ he won’t be AS dog-ish when he sees what you’re wearing, but he will say to himself, ‘she has some pretty nice tits’ and will probably text jean saying exactly that. but then he just moved on with his day.

‣ presents memes before the meeting to try and get levi to laugh. it doesn’t work.

HANGE-

≈ shes on her couch.

≈ wears casual outfits.

≈ ushers the boys to participate.

≈ very upbeat and happy.

≈ first person to make an interactive slideshow to get everyone to participate.

≈ shes into sending levi cat memes.

≈ has a cup of coffee next to her, plants and pictures of plants on her wall.

≈ likes to unmute people purposely if their mic is muted.

≈ emails back and fourth with armin and levi for plans for the upcoming meetings.

≈ she will not tolerate anyone disrespecting one another. kicking the boys out to stop them from harassing you about what you’re wearing.

HISORIA-

‹ her room is like a oasis, pastel walls, the vines on her walls and everything.

‹ diffuser in the background and incense.

‹ shes drinking coffee, always dressed, makeup on ( if she chooses to wear it ) and she attends these meetings on her laptop, sitting in front of her vanity.

‹ wears pretty blouses, or a summery dress, hair always fixed to perfection.

‹ sometimes her mom comes in, with cut up fruit and ice water, giving it to her and then leaving.

‹ she has framed pictures of her and everyone on her wall.

‹ also has honor roll certificates on her wall.

‹ she makes sure her vanity light is on so she has good lighting.

‹ also takes notes- color coordinating notes.

‹ she does participate, she laughs at the boys when they act up.

‹ also compliments everyone.

‹ when she catches the boys looking at you, she tells levi to make them knock it off, and then shakes her head in disappointment, ‘you all are so weird, leave y/n alone, you’re making her uncomfortable’

YMIR-

≍ shes usually propped up on her side, laying on her bed or the couch.

≍ she doesn’t participate unless she’s chosen to.

≍ keeps quiet, pays good attention.

≍ she sticks to wearing a sweatshirt and shorts or just a t shirt and leggings.

≍ clean room, warm blue sheets and gray walls.

≍ she gets furious when jean and eren go at it.

≍ shes gonna defend you against the boys pertaining to what you’re wearing, saying, ‘take your dirty eyes off of her’

≍ she doesn’t mind what you’re wearing, she thinks you look really good, but you wouldn’t catch her dead making a comment on your body.

≍ won’t admit it but it makes her flustered seeing how your body looks.

SASHA-

⇝ sits at her kitchen table.

⇝ eating full meals while the meeting takes place.

⇝ doesn’t hesitate to talk when her mouth is full so levi keeps her muted.

⇝ house is very home-y, warm and decorated well, her kitchen is seen in the background with her mom or dad occasionally walking past.

⇝ sometimes asking her mom to make her another sandwich, ( after her third one ).

⇝ always laughing with connie and jean.

⇝ sticks to casual outfits, sweatshirt and leggings, hair always up.

⇝ no filter, so if she catches eren or jean looking at you, she’s gonna jump into action.

⇝ ‘i know you’re not looking at her like that!’

⇝ ‘you better stop looking at her before i go over there!’

⇝ ‘captain if you don’t kick these fools out right now i’ll go over there and kick their asses instead!’

#eren jaeger #sasha aot #connie aot #attack on titan jean #send me drabble requests #hange zöe #levi ackerman #mikasa #armin arlert #ymir aot #historia #attack on titan headcanons #attack on titan #aot drabble #drabbles

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jelliclewhiskers · 2 years

Text

Part two of me liveblogging this recording of the Mexico 1991 production of Cats !

The Moments of Happiness.

Coricopat, Tantomile, and Sillabub/Jemima have their moment. Jemima's voice is really nice here. This part always touches me, along with the instrumentals after.

Sillabub/Jemima snaps out of it a few beats after her solo and falls back down. Gets some pats from the Mystical Twins.

Damn this part. Solemn and somber is all I can call it.

Time for Gus and Jelly to sadden things up. Her voice is very gentle here, and she's pretty. Gus patted her paw on his shoulder with his own, nice detail. He nods as she sings. They look like a married couple here and I'm ip for it.

Gus' voice is a little gruff, old, and it's very telling. I can get the message without knowing what they're saying. I've memorized the lyrics anyhow.

Maybe it's the lighting, but I notice little pads on his paws? If they are there, that's another detail I like.

I like the second part of his song best, after he sings, when Jelly picks things up again.

Listening for him to say "Rumpus Cat" but they may be using another name. Or maybe he'll bust out as Growltiger?

He's gotten up and is passionate about his memories.

"I could do it again..."

GROWLTIGER !

OHHHH now that's an opening. Everything goes dark as something lowers and then he laughs, revealed as Growltiger when the spotlight illuminates him again ! Exciting. Maybe I won't skip the song this time.

They lowered an entire ship set, this is actually cool. I always do love this tune.

Raffish Crew fucking things up, kind of here for it honestly.

GROWLTIGER JUST SOCKED MISTO SQUARE IN THE FACE ! And Tugger and the others!

He's kicking ass. Racism bad though :( Can't understand the lyrics as they're sung but I know them.

In comes Griddlebone for their deut. She's so fluffy.

This number is really cool honestly, wish it could be rewritten to omit the objectifying parts.

They're not bringing out the cushion for them to practically fuck on, instead they're on the ship set. Really cool set.

Growltiger being an ass and touchy to Griddlebone who just loves him LOL.

I wish they'd sing Billy Mccaw.

This gives me the interpretation that Griddle was tricking him, serving as a distraction for them to get him. Then again, she took a fall off the ship, so who's to tell?

Getting some fighting action before finally Growltiger is put out of his misery. He falls off the ship too. Kind of deserved, not going to lie.

Woah, just noticed they lowered a new background along with the set. The moon is a crescent.

There's another cut and Gus' song ends with the melody from before Growltiger. He sings again, in the dark with a light shining solely on him. He saunters off the stage as the lighting returns. Ship set has lifted back up.

SKIMBLESHANKS THE RAILWAY CAT! THE CAT OF THE RAILWAY TRAIN!

They're so high energy and I love it !!!

Skimble shakes his finger at Victoria for causing a little ruckus.

The instrumentals are interesting. Loving the light chugging of a train they've replicated for it.

HIS EARS WIGGLE SO MUCH

They're making the train without the sheet and it's really cool to look at. A sheet comes down from one of the props to make the body of the train. It looks metal or something? Can't tell but it's cool.

Aaaaand it all falls apart as Skimble is showing Deut. But he doesn't care, he's on his merry way with the rest of the song.

I fear with the shortness of this video Misto's number may not be in it.

The number restarts before — CRASH! It all goes dark and Macavity's ominous laugh rings out. They're using another name for him, which Demeter shouts into the darkness.

Deuteronomy is kidnapped by his hench cats and him.

Macavity's number !

Demeter is giving a really good show. I like it, very sinister and telling of her times with him by the dance. Lore fuel IMO

Bombalurina is really attractive, as per usual. I see them as a great couple here.

Macavity's girls have come to dance

Holy shit the recording is glitching out and there's a ton of static visually and in the audio, very unexpected but very much like Macavity. There's a break and we get a glimpse of them still singing his song, but it's overtaken by more glitches of blue, black, and static. Audio gets wavy there. Creepy, but fitting.

Recording clears up and they mention Mungojerrie and Griddlebone, song continuing before finishes.

Recording cuts to Macavity "returning" Deuteronomy. Demeter instantly senses something is off with him and gets all the cats away from this fake Deut.

She pounces, revealing him as Macavity!

Evil King fucking things up and being the real life of the Ball LOL. He takes up Demeter, who is rescued from his grip.

Macavity Fight.

Intense. He's really going at them, Munk is crumpled on the ground in pain for a minute as another cat attacks him. Macavity runs up and cuts all the lights in a flash of electricity.

"Macavity's not there..."

Demeter and Munkustrap groom each other in front of the light source, recovering from that frightening encounter.

Tugger introduces Mistoffelees!

Only nine minutes of the recording left, will we get the full song? At least hoping to, it's my favorite.

It's really dark, asides from the light being shone on Tugger. Small cut, things are lighting up again as Mistoffelees enters the scene by wire.

No "Presto!" but I'm really happy to see this. Misto is blasting things up around the stage. Tugger affectionately removes his coat.

Munk is singing the verse, which is surprising. Love his two boys hyping him up. Might I add Mistoffelees looks really cool here?

Tugger also sings some parts with him.

Gay ribbon :D They dance together, arms linked !!!

Finally all the Misto shots I wanted. Even his chest fur is sparkly.

He does his little dance Thing with Tugger, dances some more, then comes over to him again. To which his loving boyfriend/#1 hype man ruffles his chest fur with his tail.

Conjuring Turns!! He's really holding the spins for a minute. Audience should've cheered.

Tugger is so excited.

Instead of a second verse after this pause, Misto cuts right to the chase and pulls the red sheet out of that hole in the old Ford.

Misto chooses a volunteer, Cassandra I'll assume. They do the version of the trick where he spreads the red sheet over where the pipe is, and drags it to the center of the stage.

He does some hand motions over the rising sheet before tugging it off to reveal Old Deuteronomy! All the lighting has returned.

Misto excitedly leaps into Deuteronomy's open arms without waiting for Tugger to finish his slow, "Oh, well, I never was there ever..."

Misto and Deut share a really sentimental look before he jumps down and the song picks up. All the cats swarm him, before they line up and link hands. Misto claims his spot between Tugger and Deut, while Munk is at Deut's other side.

This song makes me so happy. Deut is skipping to the tire with Munk and Tugger, and a cat does some flips across the stage.

More turns! Faster this time.

They end the song by lifting up the magical tuxedo, and then he does the light trick, blowing it out.

The recording ends just as Memory starts. I suppose thats it.

Overall, really good production. Super satisfied with it although we don't get to see the ending, probably since we got Misto's number to close it. I'm curious to see Jellicle Songs and the ending though. If anyone has recordings of those, please do send 'em my way.

If I had to rate it, I would give it a 9.5/10.

All the designs really grew on me, it's an amazing performance. Give it a watch sometime.

@eh-dot-dot-dot

#abrax rambles #liveblogging #part two

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occasionalsnippets · 2 years

Note

Mc simps come get yo juice

God complex mc be objectifying everyone

LMAO god complex mc being The Worst Person Ever as per usual

#mumblings #answered #ask #agremlinchildthatneedscontent #Anomalous AU #God Complex AU #they’re so fun to write though

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add3ra11 · 2 years

Note

What’s unicorn hunting?

Google and Urban Dictionary exist, I know you know how to use them if you’re in my anons 🙄

But since this can be a teaching experience for anyone who visits my blogs I’ll go ahead and explain.

Unicorn hunting is when a het couple specifically seek out a pan- or bisexual partner, usually female, with intentions of having a threesome and some even with intentions of becoming a “throuple” of sorts. Why is this gross and problematic you might ask? Well, turns out, unicorn hunters are generally deceptive fuckwads who lack transparency, dehumanize the “unicorn”, and maintain unrealistic expectations almost fucking always. How you may ask? Worry not, I come with examples. Bi and pansexual people can, and often do, find themselves in scary situations when one partner invites them under the guise both partners are wanting and expecting the situation. Often times people think bringing a bi or pansexual into the bedroom as a surprise will be the hail mary that’ll save their relationship/sex life. This can put the bi/pansexual in a very uncomfortable if not dangerous situation. And it happens A LOT. Trying to use a bi/pansexual to try and fix your failing relationship in itself is incredibly toxic and objectifying for the “unicorn”. But let’s ignore that for a second, lets say both parties are happily committed and transparent. There’s still dehumanization occurring. Bi/pansexual people are not mythical sex machines or creatures here to fulfill your deepest fantasies. We are real fucking people with real feelings and our own desires as well. Unicorn hunters treat bi/pansexual “thirds” as literal sex equipment rather than people. Even with pure intentions, the expectation that a bi/pansexual will automatically want to have a threesome is not realistic and is actually insulting to bi/pansexual people. Which brings me to unrealistic expectations. Unicorn hunters build this picture in their head of bi/pansexual partners and then get upset when their “unicorn” doesn’t exactly act like a unicorn. But from the beginning they designed this idea of a relationship that totally disregards the unicorn except when it comes to fulfilling their sexual fantasies. Un-fucking-realistic. Also, there are so many fucking unicorn hunters out there but why do you think they call it unicorn hunting?? Because unicorns are extremely rare at best. Some may even argue they don’t exist. How many bi/pansexual people are out there that actually don’t even like threesomes? How many don’t wanna be used as a sex toy? How many don’t want to be put in an awkward and potentially dangerous situation for probably mediocre sex? Geez, I can’t vouch for all of us but trust me when I say you’re out of you’re mind if you think its numerable. Even with complete honesty and transparency, why dehumanize ANYONE like EVER especially if there’s less than a one in a million chance of getting what you want?

I want to make it clear I’m not shaming polyamory/throuples or threesomes at all. But these are things that should develop organically, not be designed by asshole dehumanizing unicorn hunters looking for an obedient sex toy that checks all their boxes. Triads and polycules happen, but they should occur naturally, and threesomes should be a happy surprise, rather than be sought out per se. There’s nothing wrong with being bi/pan and seeking threesomes if thats what you really want, but just know you deserve to be treated like an equal, your desires deserve to be heard, and you deserve to be safe always.

To all my fellow “unicorns” out there, I hope you can recognize the red flags of unicorn hunting when it occurs. We are people, not sexual rarities. We deserve to be treated like real people. There’s tons more info on this stuff out there on google and such if y’all are interested. Let me know and I can link up some sources. Stay safe, everyone, especially my fellow unicorns. Here’s to surviving the hunt 🖤

#thanks for coming to this ted talk #unicorn #unicorn hunters #unicorn hunting #rant #anon #bi #pan #rights

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 13

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Language, allusion to NSFW content

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

Drop of a hat she's as willing as Playful as a pussy cat Then momentarily out of action Temporarily out of gas To absolutely drive you wild, wild She's out to get you

~ Queen - Killer Queen ~

After Lizzie had left on that day back in August, Orion hadn’t been sure whether her words would follow action and there would actually be a next time, nor had he been entirely sure he wanted there to be one.

Not because the night he had spent with Lizzie hadn’t been fantastic, or either of them was feeling uncomfortable with it; but she had been his close friend and colleague for so many years now and Orion valued her presence in his life deeply. Changing a pattern that worked smoothly seldomly proved to be a good idea.

He had been glad nothing seemed to have changed between them when they saw each other next; Lizzie had acted just the same as always, focused on their music, laughing with him during breaks, maybe a little flirtatious, but then again, that was just her way.

Orion’s resolve to consider the fling with her done and dusted lasted about a week. He had walked her home from the dinner they’d had with the rest of the band; when they’d reached her flat in Chelsea, she’d waited in the door to the house, looking back at him over her shoulder with an amused expression.

“What now? Are you coming or not?”

He had to admit, the second time round, this time with their senses all together, the sex had been even better than the first time. His concerns about what it might do to their friendship were melting away with every kiss Lizzie left on his body, setting his skin aflame and shutting off his mind with that deliciously wicked smile of hers.

When they’d found themselves in his flat for a third time, he felt the need to stop her wandering hands while he still could.

“Wait a minute, we should really talk about what we’re doing here.”

Lizzie looked up at him incredulously, her fingers hooking on the seam of his trousers, her fingernails grazing his sensitive skin. “What, right now?”

Orion tried to ignore his urgent wish for her to continue where she’d left off and sat up. “Yes, right now.”

“Fine,” she answered briefly and removed her hands from his body, but not without running her hand over him one last time, sending a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t deny how much his body yearned for her but he pushed the heat inside his chest aside and forced his thoughts to focus on what was on his mind.

“If we want this to continue we need to talk about where it’s going,” he managed to say a lot calmer than he felt as he watched Lizzie slowly taking in his undressed body, a salacious smirk on her lips.

“I can perfectly tell you where this is going right now,” she chuckled but Orion didn’t let himself get distracted.

“I’m serious, Liz. As fun as this is, we’re actively breaking the rules here. We are part of a greater thing; the whole unity that is Equinox is more important than every one of us on our own. I don’t want to do anything that could harm the band.”

With a sigh, Lizzie sat up straighter, her expression serious. “Neither of us would ever do anything to put the band at risk. This here is not a relationship, Orion; we can stop this any time.”

She shuffled closer to him on the bed and put a hand on his arm. Her smile was now nothing but warm and reassuring. “Don’t worry, this is just fun, no strings attached.”

He wasn’t entirely convinced, however. “Things like this end in disaster more often than not.“

“If it makes you feel better, let’s make a deal,” Lizzie suggested. “We’ll do this as long as it’s fun and we both want it. In the case that things change for either one of us, we’ll just stop and go back to how things were before. How does that sound?”

Orion sighed deeply. “Do you really think it will work just like that?”

“Just like that,” she smiled, her hand wandering from his arm onto his chest, giving him a slight push so he fell over on his back.

“You’re thinking too much,” she purred as her lips trailed down his chest and over his stomach, coming to rest where hands had let off earlier. “Let me help you relax.”

And just like that, what had begun as a simple drunk one-night stand had developed into something that wasn’t just a friendship, but was far from a relationship either.

Even when their tour had started, they hadn’t stopped meeting in the dead of the night, the risk of being discovered adding an additional thrill, which Orion would have never guessed he’d find himself enjoying. Working off the adrenaline a successful show set off in their bodies soon became his favourite way of winding down. It wasn’t long before he’d actually started showing signs of impatience - something that used to be completely foreign to him - when Lizzie took her time before leaving the backstage area, joking around with Skye or Charlie, deliberately teasing him.

The curves of her body became as familiar to Orion as the neck of his guitar, and he knew exactly how to play both to coax the sweetest sounds from them. Lizzie began to learn every story behind his many tattoos, her fingers tracing the delicate lines as he told her all about them.

The harmony that had existed between them from the get go solidified, unexpected but not unsurprising; it felt like a natural extension to their friendship, raising their connection and understanding to a higher level.

Now, almost ten months since their first night together, he couldn’t even remember what it had been like before.

Orion was violently broken out of his musings by Skye snapping her fingers in front of his eyes.

“Earth calling Orion, you still with us, mate?”

She eyed him critically as his eyes snapped back into focus. “What’ve you been daydreaming about?”

He slowly pulled her hand away from his face. “I have been reminded of something and indulged in the call of the past for a moment,” he answered serenely.

“The way you’re looking it must have been a good memory,” Lizzie said innocently. Her eyes were sparkling as if she knew exactly what he had been thinking about.

He inclined his head, hoping his face wouldn’t give him away. “A favourite.”

Skye shrugged. “Whatever, let’s get those damn pictures taken and get outta here, I’m hungry. You’d better focus on the job.” She stopped, looking thoroughly bewildered. “Can’t believe I need to say this to you of all people.”

Still shaking her head, she grabbed Lizzie by the arm and pulled her towards the set that had been prepared on the far side of the room. The photographer was already instructing Merula on where to stand, Everett looking on from the sidelines.

It took them ages to get all of the pictures Rita’s magazine wanted done. After all of them had their portraits taken, they continued with group shots in various combinations.

When it was the girls’ turn, Orion joined Everett on the sides. The mood between the two guitarists had improved a little since Everett felt he got the recognition he deserved, but still, the atmosphere lacked the carefree camaraderie of the past. Orion struggled to find something to talk about with him these days, not wanting to provoke any of Everett’s bad moods.

As it turned out, their frontman had no desire to talk to him anyway. He was watching Skye, Lizzie and Merula pose in front of the camera intently. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms in front of his chest, a small grin forming on his face.

“You can say what you want, but our girls are quite a sight to see, aren’t they?”

Orion didn’t answer, only raising his eyebrows slightly. Everett took his silence as a sign to go on. “I mean, look at them.” His grin widened, taking on a wolfish touch. “Look at Lizzie, for fuck’s sake. Shame she’s always running ‘round all plain and simple, what a waste.”

Orion had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. “Beauty comes from the inside, from embracing our nature as it is and carrying it to the outside. Lizzie is in tune with herself and that is showing. The way she prefers to keep it simple doesn’t dim her light, it enhances it.”

“I certainly wouldn’t say no to her glammed up like that, is all I’m saying,” Everett snorted.

Orion wasn’t surprised by Everett’s take on things, but he was astounded at how much his words were grating on him. Everett had been a flirt for as long as Orion could remember, but he had never objectified women the way he did these days. Ever since they had started their way to the top, the pressure they were constantly feeling had steadily increased. Everett was treating the girls admiring him just the same as he did anything else taking his mind off things; as a meaningless, replaceable means to an end.

He didn’t like hearing Everett talk about anyone like that, but especially not Lizzie.

However, Orion couldn’t deny that he had a point. As per usual, Andre had worked his magic on her for the shoot, creating a maximum effect with simple but well chosen measures. Lizzie’s light brown hair fell around her face in a heap of messy curls, her dark makeup accentuating her blue eyes.

The shiny leather leggings she was wearing were clinging tightly to her legs that were elongated by a pair of black heeled boots. A loose black shirt with the familiar logo of the Rolling Stones gave her the effortlessly nonchalant vibe that was so inherently her. She had tied it in a knot at the sides to shorten it, showing just the tiniest bit of her belly.

Yes, as much as he hated to admit it, Everett was right; Lizzie was a sight to see. Their eyes met briefly as Merula and Lizzie switched positions. Orion could see the smirk starting to form on her lips, like it always did when she caught him watching her.

She quickly regained control over her expression, flipping her hair out of her face and concentrating again. But her attention kept wandering back to him, a mischievous glitter in her eyes that Orion knew all too well.

When it was time for pictures of the whole group, he and Everett joined the girls in front of the camera again. To get a more compact looking picture of them all together, the photographer wanted him and Everett to sit on one of the sofas they had used for the interview, the girls grouped behind them, all trying their best to look as casual as possible.

Orion was sitting directly in front of Lizzie; he almost jumped when he suddenly felt her hand on his back, hidden from the others by her body that was very close to his. Her fingers tiptoed higher up until they found the exposed skin of his neck. Her nails were grazing his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind at the unexpected sensation. Orion could feel the intense energy radiating off her and had to fight the urge to turn around and catch a glimpse of her expression.

Looking at her camera, the photographer, a beautiful young woman in a blue headscarf, frowned and shook her head. “This doesn’t look right yet. I’m missing the energy, the spirit of your connection.

She contemplated for a moment before her fine features lit up. “I know; Merula, could you sit between the guys? The other girls, one on each arm of the sofa, please.”

They changed as she had asked them to, Skye perching on the back of the sofa next to Everett and Lizzie now sitting closer to Orion than before. But still, their photographer wasn’t satisfied.

“Lizzie, could you lean in a little?”

“Sure,” Lizzie smiled innocently, leaning closer to Orion until their bodies were almost touching. He could smell her perfume and the sharp scent of hairspray. When he felt her hand on his back yet again, conveniently out of sight of the camera, he shifted his position a little, ever so slightly leaning into her touch.

Encouraged by him playing along, the corners of her mouth twitched, masked by a little tilt of her head for the camera. Her hand traveled down his spine to the base of his shirt where she lost no time to slip it underneath the seam, her cool fingers brushing across the bare skin of his back.

Orion exhaled slowly, trying not to laugh at the light sensation of her fingertips. Lizzie knew that he was ticklish in that particular spot. She was trying to play him, testing his control over himself, just as she had done after their first show in London.

He couldn’t believe the risk she was taking; touching him like that in a dark nightclub under a table was one thing, but during a photoshoot, with all eyes on them? He’d never thought she would be so bold.

Her ridiculous recklessness was intriguing, however; just like everything about Lizzie it was playing with fire and the reward of being close to a blazing flame never came without danger.

A movement at the edge of his vision drew Orion’s attention away from her touch. His eyes flicked over to the other side of the sofa and he thought he could see Skye looking over to them. His heart suddenly racing, Orion leaned against the back of the sofa, effectively forcing Lizzie to withdraw her hand.

He glanced over to Skye again, but she was looking straight at the camera, her moody rockstar expression edged onto her face. She paid him or Lizzie no mind whatsoever, and for a moment Orion wondered whether that frown on her face had been nothing but a trick of his mind.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #rockstar au #orion amari #lizzie jameson #lizion #skye parkin #merula snyde #andre egwu #jason everett #when stars ignite #wsi #besties collaborate #I may have figured out the tag problem yay

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beautifulletdownfics · 4 years

Text

Love Your Way - A Sail The Widest Stretch One Shot

A drabble, just because.

Read Sail The Widest Stretch

My Masterlist

Five Years Later

Harry would bottle this feeling if he could.

He'd bottle it. He'd freeze it. He'd leap out of himself and step around his body for a few moments, taking it all in before returning back to wherever in his future life he was. He didn't know how there could ever be a happier moment than this. A more content time. A more beautiful woman in front of him.

Amelia, floating in the warm sea, pink-skinned and happy and unhurried.

Harry thinks of them lying on this same beach together five years earlier. The week they'd spent celebrating Hannah and Dale's wedding and the imaginings he and Amelia played at afterwards, themselves right here decades down the line, as wrinkled old versions of the two people promising to always be together. How far even five years since had taken them. The arguments, the decisions, the compromises, the tears, the tipsy evenings and foggy mornings. All the life and suffering and joy and heartbreak.

And yet, there Amelia was. The same person by his side for it all.

"I'll get out in a minute," she tells him airily, eyes shut behind her sunglasses while her arms sweep through the water at her sides. It was getting close to being the end of the afternoon, around the time they usually pull themselves from the ocean, shower the sand and salt from their skin and put on clothes for the first time to be presentable for dinner.

"You don't have to," Harry replies, bobbing down into a squat. The saltwater cups his chin pleasantly, and he's trying to pause her in the happy moment, if only for a few seconds longer, "I'd still love you even if your skin melts off from a burn."

He watches the sides of her mouth quirk with humour and then continues to trace the lines of her body down to her feet. Harry doesn't know what caveman switch inside of him flicked on seven months ago, but somehow the sight of his wife pregnant makes him hum inside like nothing else. The intermittent lust he feels is probably borderline shameful, it's definitely beyond objectifying. There's just something about that curve out between her hips and how Amelia's whole body has swelled that's just so sexy to him.

Without him being conscious of it, Harry slowly hops a few steps closer, his hand out in front of him ready to caress the skin of Amelia's thigh. Her feet kick at his touch, and then Harry feels the arm closest to him reach out, her palm settling on his shoulder in a firm, steadying manner. She wriggles in the water when he ghosts a ticklish area for her a little too lightly. Harry's neck cranes down and he kisses her knuckles lightly while settling his hands over the bump at Amelia's middle, the skin stretched and smooth.

"Bub's sleeping with the fishes," he says when he can't feel any tiny limbs or a bony bottom moving inside.

Amelia sighs and dips her head back, wetting the skin of her forehead in the process, "It's so nice."

"He's going to be a real chill little baby if you ask me."

"I didn't," Amelia pushes the sunglasses up her head to give him a teasing glare, "And stop saying 'he' because if it's a little girl you'll feel terrible."

"If it's a girl I'll owe Hazel fifty quid," his hands slip over Amelia's hips as she reaches her feet to the sandy bottom and loops her arms around Harry's neck. Harry raises his eyebrows at his wife as she attempts latching her legs around his hips but fails, the protrusion between them making the manoeuvre impossible.

Amelia huffs out, knowing better than to complain about feeling like a whale in front of Harry, who as life would have it was the worlds' Biggest Pregnancy Fan, "There's no way Gemma is going to let you give fifty pounds to her eight-year-old."

Harry makes a face Amelia's come to love as his faux impatient one, "So the fact we're having a boy is a good thing across the board."

Amelia rolls her eyes, knowing Harry knows he's only got a fifty per cent chance of being right but equally knowing he's not the kind to step down from a playful hunch. He's got new freckles across his shoulders and colour over the expanse of his chest already, even after only two days in the sun. Amelia will be lucky if she leaves without peeling, it wasn't fair how her husband seemed to flourish in the heat. Baby-moons were supposed to be mostly for the pregnant person, right?

Harry's not saying anything, he's just watching her. It reminds Amelia of their honeymoon in Italy three years earlier, Harry seemed to spend so much time just looking at her, as if he was downloading something in his mind. Or trying to figure out what the hell she was about. She used to worry about what he saw, mainly because every time she asked why Harry gave no answer. Always a shrug and a kiss, a 'you worry too much' and a promise she didn't have anything in her teeth.

"Has my mascara run?" She whispers.

Harry presses his smiling lips against the side of her mouth, "Nope."

"Burnt nose?"

He squints at her and leans closer than comfortable, lays another kiss on her as he shakes his head, "Normal nose."

They go back to watching each other. Harry thinking about the last twelve months and how having Amelia in his arms right now he finally got the sense they were out of the woods, she was out of the woods. Amelia wondering whether the secret thought in her mind was true or just something her brain invented to hurt her, as so many seemed only conjured to do.

"Harry," Amelia says quietly, pulling him closer and resting her cheek against his in a loose hug. She slots her ankles between his and presses her tummy against his slippery skin as best she's able.

He drags his hands up and down her back, jumping his fingers at the tie of her bikini top, "Amelia."

"I hope it's a little girl," she admits to him, tightening her hold at the admission, giving him the location of the small, numbing sinkhole that had been inside her all year. The one he'd held her hand, and body, through. The one Harry patiently let consume her and then diligently coaxed her back out of.

Harry squeezes his fingers into the skin at her waist, processing but mostly understanding, "Another Maggie," he says easily, feeling Amelia slump heavily in his arms at the words. He'd suspected as much.

She doesn't know what to say, how to say it. Does Amelia truly think her grandmother might return to her somehow if her baby is a little girl? No. Reincarnation has always seemed like a kind of hope Amelia's life has never afforded her.

Until now. Maybe.

Seven years with Harry by her side had changed so much in her. She need look no further than the ring on her finger and the baby in her belly for proof of it. Family like this wasn't something she aimed for before Harry. So maybe now there was some hope in death not being the all-encompassing end it was with her parents. Maybe Amelia could take the comfort that the idea of her Nan returning to her and let it soothe the heartbreak she felt at now truly being an orphan in the world.

"I miss her," Amelia's breath is heavy down Harry's back, and he can hear the thickness behind them.

"I know," he soothes. "Me too."

There was nothing else to say. Watching Amelia suffer through the death of the only person who probably meant more to her than he did was a kind of torture Harry hadn't previously been privy to. Her Nan dying tested them. Amelia pulled away from him, went into herself in her grief. It was quick and unexpected, cruel in the same way the death of her parents had been. There was no goodbye or time for final conversations. All there was to find comfort in was how self-evident it was Amelia's Nan loved her beyond anything else, and Amelia in return.

In the back of his mind, Harry was prepared for illness in old age, for a time when he and Amelia spent a lot of time in Bristol caring for Maggie. (Although he was forbidden calling her that before they were engaged even, she was Nan to him as well) Neither of them was ready for a phone call one sticky, wet September morning, not even a peaceful death in sleep gave Amelia any sort of solace. Another goodbye was stolen from her. Harry's not sure his heart has ever broken so quickly or painfully as Amelia's declaration that day that she was alone in the world.

I'm right here, he'd wanted to say, but it wasn't the time. And it wasn't about him.

Now though, they were back in a good place, with only the sad aftertaste of grief and a new version of it he hadn't (but should've) guessed could be connected to the baby. Amelia wasn't unhappy, but she was still in the strange haze of grief.

"She'd be so jealous of us right now," Harry's voice rumbles through Amelia," 'A beach and a man, oh my days,'" his impersonation of her grandmother makes her smile, and he sways their bodies in the water gently. "Be my drinking buddy, that's for sure."

"You'd be on the floor before she would."

Harry laughs, "True."

And just like that, the sadness wafts away. Harry supposes that's the way it's supposed to be.

Amelia leans back in Harry's arms, taking in the full sight of his face, "What are we calling your boy?"

"No, no names," Harry moans, dropping his face into the water and shaking it, "No."

She's smiling when his eyes blinked open, Amelia winds her fingers through the hair at his temples and holds his head in her hands, "We have to. Thirty weeks is right around the corner. Baby needs a name."

"It's too soon," Harry sings lightly, "It's too soon."

"It's not," Amelia grins and doesn't let him turn his head away, "You promised names on the baby-moon."

"I'm reconsidering my timeline."

"I'll go first then," she plays, biting her lip in a way Harry finds utterly irresistible, "Ready?"

"La la la," Harry shakes his head and lets go of a hip so he can cover one of his ears, "We still have plenty of time."

Amelia might be annoyed by his reluctance to forward plan. Harry said from the beginning they were going to be the couple who took each step as it came, and names were a vibe thing. Harry wanted to meet their baby before deciding on a name because how could you possibly know a fresh human's name until you meet them? But Amelia also knows this to be the man who's been researching how to deal with toddlers, and kids and pre-teens and then onto the best way to raise happy, well-balanced teenagers. So his denial at moving too quickly really doesn't stick.

"Annie Margaret," Amelia says because she managed to find out from Harry years ago that his favourite name for what was at the time very hypothetical daughter, was Annie. For Annie Lennox and Annie Edison and, strangely, Annie Mac. "It's cute, don't you think."

"You remembered?"

"Course."

Harry put his hands to Amelia's stomach as if it would help him think, "Hmmm, maybe."

She tuts him, "Okay then, what's your fifty quid boy's name then?"

"Jude," He replies quickly, a secret he's been holding in his chest for weeks, "He's Jude. Don't you think?"

"Jude George," Amelia nods, "It's solid."

"Jude George," Harry repeated, "I don't know about that."

"George Jude?"

Harry screws up his nose, "George?"

"It's sweet!" Amelia laughs, splashes Harry's shoulder with the clear water between them. "Nobody uses middle names anyway, it'd just be for us, and I like it."

Harry narrows his eyes at his wife, "You're getting awfully close to Gemma's veto thing, aren't you?"

Amelia grinned, "I wouldn't do that to you. I'm much nicer than your sister."

"Mmm," Harry let his hands roam lower onto her bikini bottoms, "Much nicer."

He leans forward and captures her mouth in a slow, heated kiss. She latches her arms around Harry's neck and lets him pull her as tightly against him as possible. These lazy, sensory kisses take over Harry's brain, and the can't see why going back home to Amelia wearing proper clothing is a very good idea at all. The sun, the warm sea and his scantily clothed wife seems like the winning combination. When they pull apart, Harry's just about to suggest skipping dinner in favour of other activities when Amelia beats him to fill the silence.

"I'm so hungry."

He laughs, "That's what you were thinking about?"

She's just about to answer, but then Harry sees her think better of it, "Amongst other things."

"I was doing some of my best work there!"

"That was not your best work, I would know," Amelia countered, "Feed me, and then we can see about your best work."

And so because the promise of sex and Amelia's hunger are two forces Harry will never be master of, they return from the beach to their overwater hut. It takes almost twenty minutes for Harry to convince Amelia the dress she wore the night before is just as beautiful as it was twenty-four hours earlier, and she absolutely can wear it again. And another twenty minutes where they discover a quick round of shower sex is an impossibility with a belly and too many slippery surfaces.

Harry can confidently say sex during pregnancy certainly makes him think things through more thoroughly.

Amelia laughs at the sincerity and earnestness showing on Harry's face as he backs himself away from her, naked and hard but sensible enough to see there's no way Amelia sits comfortably anywhere at the moment, much less a precarious bathroom ledge.

"Damn baby," Harry sighs, dipping his head back under the spray and shaking the inch of frustration away.

"It's particularly unfair to you, you really had nothing to do with it," Amelia giggles behind him.

Harry smiles, "Absolutely nothing."

*scuttles away*

#1dff #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles stories #harry styles fiction #one direction #one direction fanfic #1dfanfic #fic: sail the widest stretch #fic #harmelia

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emmy-writes-sometimes · 4 years

Text

Înger

You’re not quite sure what the nickname Sebastian keeps calling you means.

“My name?” You thought about it for a minute, holding your finger up and looking over at your phone. Sebastian was beside you and started explaining what his meant, but you had to Google yours.

“Well?” Sebastian asked, laughing a little. He looked at you with the cutest smile and it was hard to turn away, but you kept looking until you found what you were looking for.

“It means angel.”

“All of that googling for one answer?” Sebastian asked. You laughed and continued on with the interview. When it was done you quickly got your microphone pack off your jeans and walked with Sebastian to get some lunch. You were in New York for this part of the press tour, and since Sebastian lived there, you were staying with him. And then you’d move on to Los Angeles for another three weeks of press. Over the course of filming, Sebastian had become one of your best friends. You were even planning a vacation with each other since you both really wanted to go to Hawaii and acting like a couple would definitely get you some hotel discounts.

“Pass me the soy sauce, will you, înger?” He asked later that night when you were cooking dinner together. You had decided to cook him a meal for letting him stay with you, but he was such a control freak about his food that he’d taken over in ten minutes and now he was showing you how to make home-made chicken stir fry, your favorite.

“What did you just call me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. He smirked.

“Nothing. Just pass it?” You handed him the glass bottle and tried to act like what he had said was just a fluke or something. It definitely wasn’t English – and you knew he was Romanian, because he sprinkled in a few phrases here and there when he couldn’t remember the English phrase, but he mostly never spoke it unless he was around his family. You had never actually heard him speak it except when he was on the phone with his mom. And you could speak a little Spanish, which was similar, but not similar enough to where you could understand anything past articles and some grammar.

You heard him on the phone later that night and you could hear him say your name, and then that same word again, înger, and you were curious. So you did some more googling of nicknames. It wasn’t hard to find.

Angel.

He was calling you angel. You looked back at where he sat in the living room while you were cleaning up the dishes, smiling a little. You’d felt like he maybe liked you, and you liked him, too, but you never thought it was real. You never thought that he would actually make a move as dangerous as that because he had to know that you could just google it and figure out what he was saying. But maybe he wasn’t even being that dangerous – he always called you funny nicknames and you always called him some back. Your nickname for him was chubbs, since he had said he had gotten chubby recently. You didn’t see it, but you liked to see the look on his face when he realized you were teasing him as much as he always teased you.

“I’m heading to bed,” you said after he hung up, “early flight tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I’ll meet you at four?” You nodded and left to go to his guest room. You saw him smile at you as you left and couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. You texted some of your friends, and a couple of your co-stars, asking if he did the same thing to them. Of course it was a no, so you put your phone underneath your pillow and tried to get a little sleep. Eventually the light in the hallway shut off and Sebastian continued to his room on the brownstone’s third floor. You could hear the floor settle and then he went to bed, too.

You woke up the next morning and threw on a big sweatshirt and shorts, hoping you wouldn’t run into any fans in a flight that early, and met Sebastian in the front hall of the house. He called a cab and took care of the luggage, letting you get in first. You made it through the airport without seeing anybody, but when you saw some fans heading toward Sebastian you made it a point to go get the two of you coffee.

“You really got them to write chubbs on the side?” He chuckled when he saw what the sharpie had written on the plastic cup. You shrugged. “You are the worst.” You sat back down beside him until it was time to board. The studio had made sure the two of you had tickets together, so you were squeezed in by the window seat. You had both finished your coffee so he put the cupholder between you up. You felt the plane move and jumped a little bit, causing Sebastian to look over at you.

“Sorry.” He shook his head and took your hand, squeezing it. He knew you hated when planes took off, and usually he made it a point to distract you. This was definitely distracting, but in a different way.

“’S okay, înger,” he said softly, trying to pull a smile out of you. “We’re only going over the ocean so they can turn us around toward land.” He only let go of your hand when the plane was completely in the air and you leaned your head on his shoulder, falling asleep as he started watching a movie and you could hear a little bit of it from his headphones.

You were so drained by the time you got to Los Angeles that he basically had to force you into the shower to get ready for the entire day of press. You weren’t done until nine at night, and he knocked on your door with a six pack in one hand and a bag of your favorite diner food in the other just about two hours later.

“Oh my God, turn it off!” You laughed as he turned on the TV and the first thing that popped up was the porn channel. He laughed too and changed it to the on demand screen where you could rent movies.

“What, you aren’t curious?” He teased.

“No!” You replied, pushing on his shoulder. “I am not looking at some random guy’s dick!” He rolled his eyes.

“You are absolutely no fun. You wanna watch the second Jurassic Park?” You nodded and he pulled up the rental screen. You’d never seen the movies, so Sebastian was making sure you did by the time press tour was over. You sat back on the bed’s headboard, popped open a beer, and watched the second movie. You started a random comedy after since the two of you were talking over the next day’s plans and eventually the clock hit midnight.

“I’ll let you get your beauty sleep,” he said as he got off the bed.

“Noooo, I’m up!” You tried to say. He laughed and started cleaning up the room.

“Good night, înger,” he said with a smile on his face. You were so tired that you were almost asleep, so he didn’t hesitate to touch your hair and rub his thumb across your forehead before he left. It felt like heaven. You heard the door to his room beside yours open and shut. He watched a few videos or something before the sounds in his room silenced and he fell asleep, just as you did.

The next day you woke up, realizing what happened the night before, and texted him to see if he wanted you to Postmate some coffee in. You decided to try and look cuter than usual, since the interviews today were all video interviews, and you put on a romper that had a gap in the abdomen area. You threw a jacket over it, slightly insecure even if it did look cute, and you also expected for Sebastian to make a crack about how he could buy you clothes if you couldn’t afford ones without holes in them.

“Finally, coffee that won’t call me fat,” he remarked as you handed him his iced coffee a few minutes later. You rode in the cab to the studio, Sebastian in front, and started getting settled in. All of your interviews were together, as per your request, because you hated doing solo interviews. Interviewers also asked a lot of questions that you didn’t want to answer because many of them were just sexist, asking what man you were going out with, asking what you were allowed to eat because you had to look a certain way, and the kind of things you didn’t want to answer but were always afraid you would have to.

Sebastian took a seat beside you, putting both of his hands in his jacket pockets, and when he did his elbow hit yours. You looked away from him, smiling a little bit, and waited for the interviewer.

Most of the interview was fine. You mostly talked about the movie and Sebastian was talented enough to steer the conversation back to the movie whenever they got off of the topic, and he answered more of the difficult questions. It wasn’t your first movie, but it was your first where you were objectified on screen and off. The two of you made it to your last interview before lunch. When you saw the name of the interviewer, your heart jumped. This was the same interviewer that had asked you questions you didn’t want to be asked last time.

“You okay, înger?” Sebastian asked as you waited in the empty room. Your leg was shaking up and down, arms crossed against your chest. “Too much coffee?” You shook your head.

“No, this interviewer is just kind of an ass and I don’t know why this network keeps sending him,” you said, quietly enough to where only he could hear.

“Just let me deal with him, then. If it gets to a point where you’re not comfortable just look at me and I’ll get him off your back, okay?” You nodded. He moved his hand over to yours and squeezed it tightly. The way he spoke to you made you think that maybe there was a reason behind the nickname. Maybe he wasn’t calling you an angel in general, maybe he was calling you his angel. You wished. You gave him a small smile and a thank you, letting go of his hand as the interviewer walked in.

It started out tame enough. He was a little more police than he had been in the past, so Sebastian didn’t have to do much steering at first. But then the interviewer started talking about you, and Sebastian turned the topic on its head. The interviewer only got worse and worse, though, until you looked over at Sebastian for him to save you. And he did, thankfully. His hand reached for yours, knowing that the camera was shoulders up for the both of you, and squeezed it. You felt yourself calm down, instantly. Your body cooled down and the fear of answering questions faded into the feeling you always got when Sebastian touched you. You took a deep breath and finished the interview.

“Are you okay, înger?” He asked as the interviewer left the room. “I tried to…”

“What does that mean?” You asked him. The name made you want him to come clean. You just wanted him to be honest with you, because at this point it was completely obvious that he liked you.

“Nothing,” he lied. “Just a nickname.”

“Just a nickname,” you repeated. “Right.” You mostly forgot about everything as you sat down to lunch, talking about anything besides the interview. He went to the bathroom and you opened the translate app. You translated what you wanted to say and checked another app to be sure, and when he came back you put your phone down, ready to read off the words.

“Tin la tine,” you muttered when he sat down. He gave you a look of… understanding but confusion at the same time.

“What?” He asked. You repeated the words, again, this time as anxious as you’d ever been. Before you could say anything else, the assistants came to get the packs off of you.

Sebastian avoided you for lunch and for dinner, and even though he didn’t act any differently on camera he definitely did off camera. You were starting to think you’d seriously screwed up by the time you got back to the hotel after a cab ride, alone, because Sebastian said he had an errand to run. You sighed and went back to your room, texting your friends, and sighed. You had confronted him and it had gone all wrong, so maybe you were all wrong. Maybe the nickname wasn’t trying to get a certain reaction. Maybe it was just a reflex. You didn’t know, and you weren’t sure if you would ever know, until you got a knock at your door. It was 10 PM, you realized, and that could only mean it was one person knocking.

You opened the lock to see Sebastian standing there, hands in his jacket, and he looked nervous. He looked more nervous than he ever had before.

“Can I come in?” He asked. You nodded, stepping aside, and shut the door. You were vaguely aware that you’d taken off the jacket and felt insecure for a second.

“I’m sorry about earlier, I just figured… you were acting…” You didn’t really know what to say as you locked the door back and turned around to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I just freaked out because, well, no one’s ever said that to me before, and no one’s ever bothered to say it to me in Romanian. And I guess you figured out what the name means, right?”

“Angel.”

“Yeah. And it’s… It’s your name, but that’s not why, it’s…” he hesitated. “I like you. A lot. And I know that I can’t have you, but I thought maybe if you didn’t know what I was saying, you wouldn’t be able to shut me down. But I guess I was wrong and stupid and I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” You raised an eyebrow. “Sebastian, I was trying to tell you that I like you too. Only I don’t know how to speak Romanian.” That finally made a smile appear on his face.

“Mi-ai intrat în suflet,” he said quietly. “Are you gonna look that up?”

“You could just tell me.” He took a step forward and reached out a hand and you took it, unsure of what he was saying.

“It’s something that means you’re part of my soul. And I realize that sounds stupid in English.”

“No, it doesn’t.” You pulled on his arms until they were on your waist, his fingers cold against the gap in your romper, and looked at him. You looked at him until he understood, wrapped your arms around his neck, and tugged. He was gentle when he kissed you. His hands were soft and his lips were soft and you could feel them curl up into a smile. You must have kissed him for a few minutes, backing up until you were against the wall. His hand went behind your head to make sure you didn’t hit the wall too hard and then he was closing any gap there possibly was between the two of you.

“Inima mea îti apartine,” he muttered against you. “Ai inima mea, înger, daca vrei.”

“What does that mean?” You asked when he looked down at your bodies, his hands tightening on your waist underneath your romper.

“It means my heart is yours. You have my heart, angel, if you want it.” His eyes started searching yours for the answer, but it wasn’t long until he got it.

“Yeah. I’d like that, dolofan,” you replied, smiling a little bit. He rolled his eyes.

“Of all of the words you could learn to say and you learn to say chubby. Why am I not surprised?” He laughed with you for a second before leaning into another kiss.

A/N: I’m hoping all of my translations are right! There are some symbols I can’t pull off on my computer so I am very sorry to anyone who speaks this language because I can not figure out how to do them. This was such a cute request and I hope you like it!

#sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader

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