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eat0crow · 4 years

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I’ve been seeing an increasingly large amount of people get into fic binding lately, which is fucking amazing! I love each and every one of you guerilla publishers! With the history of fandom takedowns, purges, and the bull shit legislation corporations try and start every few years, it’s so good that fics are being given permanency.

I’ve noticed that fic binders seem to be focused on longer fics, ones in the 50k onward range, which makes sense and is great because these fics absolutely deserve to be put into print! But, the thing is, my favorite fics have almost always been short one-shots, and no one seems to be talking about binding them.

So! I’m gonna show you how to bind short one-shots.

A couple of things before we get started, the method I’m going to show you is called saddle stitching, it works best for works between 5-20k. This method is affordable, utilizing things you most likely have already, and lasts years. (I have booklets that are literally a decade old and still holding strong.)

For longer works Coptic binding is my personal favorite, it’s not only affordable but also produces some beautiful spines. (Video talks about different types of string, but shows off some gorgeous spine work). If you have a little more money to spend on a project, I recommend hardcover binding. I don’t like perfect binding and while Japanese style binding is pretty it’s a nightmare on your margins.

@armoredsuperheavy has an amazing list and perfect tutorial that has everything you need to know about bookbinding and typesetting . The tutorial goes into in-depth detail on exactly what you need to do every step of the way. The only thing I do differently when printing one-shots is that I only have one signature so I print everything as one booklet. This orders the pages for you.

The most important thing you have to remember is to select flip on the short edge.

Also, add page numbers, trust me when I say it makes everything a world easier.

What I use:

Body text: Garamond 10.5

Meta information: Garamond 8

No gutter

A 1 inch top and bottom margin, and a .7 inch margin on both the inside and outside (Note: If your work is closer to 20k you’re going to need to account for page creep, so I recommend adjusting your outside margin to .9 and your inside margin to .5, this will even out when you cut)

What you’re going to need:

Mircosoft word—Sorry, I know everyone uses google docs now, but you’re going to need Word in order to print this as a booklet. If you have Adobe Indesign you can use that too, but it’s more expensive.

Card stock or craft paper—Anything 75lbs or more.

Embroidery Floss and Needle. Super cheap compared—and if you have beeswax on hand—the exact same as bookbinding string.

Ruler

Scissors

Craft Knife

Nail file

Index cards

Clips

Thumbtack

(Washi tape is an extra to add decoration and protect the string, though, if you really want to reinforce the spine duct tape is amazing.)

Okay! Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get started.

What you’re going to do is carefully fold your card stock and pages in half, ends flush together, running the edge of your ruler or bone folder, if you have one, over the crease. You’re then you’re going to start placing your pages inside the cover. To minimize page creep, each time you add a page, first push it in place with the needle, then go back over the crease with your ruler or bone folder. It should look like this when done—

You’re going to prep your booklet for sewing next.

What you’re going to do first is open the booklet up, make sure everything lines up as close to perfect as you can, then fold the index cards over the side of the book, to prevent the pages from creasing due to the clips. Then clip them in place to prevent wiggling and make the hole punching easier. Do this to all four sides.

Traditional saddle stitching uses three holes, and you can too, but I like to use seven because it maintains better tension. For my hole guide, I measure 1 and 1/4th of an inch up to my first hole—this leaves me about 1 and 1/4th of an inch between the bottom of my page and the seventh hole. From the first hole, everyone after that is measured 1 inch apart.

After you’ve measured everything, it’s time to jam the thumbtack through the marks you’ve made. The pages have a tendency to move as you do this, so it’s vitally important that all four sides are being held in place with those clips. (If you have an awl, cool beans, they work better.)

For the love of God do not put the crease between your thighs when you start hole punching. I know it’s easier, but learn from my dumbassery and don’t do it bitch!

You should have something like this—

Now it’s time to sew. Which, because I’m weird and love hand stitching, is my favorite part.

I use one strand of floss, folded over for a double-stranded effect. I find this works best because each hole is gone through twice, leaving a four-ply binding. When measuring how much string to use, my rule is double the length of the spine, triple if you’re feeling unsure.

Now traditionally you’re going to start from the inside outward, leaving your tail within the book. I like to leave my tail on the outward spine because I cover it with washi tape. What you’re going to do now, is go in through your 4th hole(Leave around two inches for a tail, more if this is your first time), out through 5, back in through 6, like this—

When you get to seven you're going to follow the same pattern until you get to hole 1, where you will turn and sew toward the middle. When you get to hole 3 for the second time, you’re going to double knot the tail to your string and cut off the ends.

A note about tension, it’s important that you maintain even tension throughout each hole, this takes practice, but it gets loads easier the more times you do it. You want your string to be tight, with just enough give to make closing the book easy. If you have too much tension, over time the strings will wear through the pages. Too little and the pages will move around inside the binding.

Essentially your sewing pattern will be: in 4, out 5, in 6, out 7, in 6, out 5, knot the end, in 4, out 3, in 2, out 1, in 2, out 3, knot.

It should look like this when done—

Now you might notice this along the edge of your book—

That’s page creep. Some people leave it, I cut it away. This is the biggest pain in the ass of the entire process, and I have yet to get a perfectly clean edge any time I’ve done. The only way to get that clean edge is with a guillotine, but I don’t have one, so this is where the craft knife comes in. (If you don’t have one, you can use a box cutter, provided the blade is fresh.)

What you’re going to do now is place your ruler along the edge of the paper you’re going to cut away. Pro-tip, I recommend cutting 1/16th of an inch into the card stock, 1/8th of an inch into the entire edge of the book so that each of your pages have the same starting point, like this—

Becuase my hands shake really bad when I apply tension to them, I stick my book under a sheet of glass, hold it down with a big old book, and use my body weight to keep everything in place.

It’s important that you go slow, cut page by page, and apply even tension from the top of the book down to the bottom.

Now if you’ve done this and still get these little fly aways—

Join the club! Fortunately, they’re really easy to get rid of and smooth out, just use your nail file to sand out the edge.

And that’s it! Congratulations, you’ve bound your very first book!! If you want to hide the spine add your tape, but if not, you’re done, my friend!

#Putting fics into print #saddle stitch booklet #turorial #bookbinding #book binding

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

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Chick Flick Before Dick

A/N: Sooo I know I’ve written tons of fics featuring reader worshiping Jax’s dick – and I do plan to continue – but we also know he’s all about the service 😜 Based on the below requests, here’s a fic about the wicked magic Mr. Teller can work over you, with those talented fingers and tongue of his...

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, teasing, edging (fingering + oral, fem receiving), semi-public setting (movie theater but no one else is there) Requests: 3 separate anon requests – 1 | 2 | 3

Word Count: ~2.9k

“You say that shit to me one more time, bitch—I swear you’ll regret it the rest of your life.”

Oh, you don’t doubt it... Jax Teller has become more possessive than ever, since he claimed you as his wife. But today you have taken a stand, sticking to what you’ve planned; you’re not about to let him use some idle threat to get you out of it.

It never fails to make you smile, how your husband whines and grumbles like a child, when you turn down his cock to hang out with your friends every once in a while.

Jax respects you too much to seriously hold it against you, and yet it’s no secret just how much he hates it when you ditch his dick to spend time with your girl crew. Leaving him high and dry, so horny he could die... alone with thoughts of all the dirty shit the two of you both love to do...

You tease your man about it for a minute, just for kicks. “Say what—‘chicks before dicks’...?”

He cringes and sticks out his tongue, as if hearing that phrase makes him physically sick. “Yeah, I mean, it’s just wrong. It’s insulting. Disgusting. The reigning queen of Charming shouldn’t say that to her king.”

“The queen says whatever she wants.”

“She better remember the king owns her cunt.”

“Well, now that’s what the king likes to think...” you taunt, though it’s a struggle to stay strong when his tone gets all dark and dominant.

Your husband knows just what you want. “Bitch, I know what you’re doing. You’re pissing me off on purpose ‘cause you’re desperate for some kind of punishment.”

You pretend to be appalled, although you really are aching for him to slam you up against the goddamn wall. “Behave, my king! Your lady would never do such a thing...”

“Cut the shit and run off to your ladies-in-waiting,” Jax says as he opens the car door for you to get in. Chivalry isn’t dead, though he’s less of a gentleman when you’re in bed. “Tomorrow you’ll spend the whole day as my personal plaything.”

Well, okay—fuck if that didn’t get you soaking wet. And yet tomorrow is a special day; your man has never missed special occasions ever since you started dating. “But did you forget—”

“That it’s our anniversary tomorrow? God, no,” he insists with a kiss on your forehead, amused that you thought he forgot. “Of course I didn’t, darlin’... but I said what I said. About you being my little plaything. Anniversary or not, won’t change a thing.”

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

It’s eleven-thirty on the morning of your anniversary... and your husband hasn’t even fucked you once yet. After finishing your second cup of coffee you’re still thirsty. Jax had cooked you a whole feast of chocolate chip pancakes and maple-glazed bacon and your favorite style of eggs, but until you have sex, you won’t feel fully fed.

“But I thought we were spending the whole day in bed...” you protest, as he drags your ass out of the house after breakfast.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” he huffs, promptly plopping you onto the back of his Harley and then speeding off. “Just ‘cause you’re spending the day as my slut, doesn’t mean we’ll be cooped up all day. Plenty of other places to play.”

Oh, boy. Just what he means to say... you’re not sure. Jax has fucked you in public before, but you don’t want the whole town of Charming to see him use you as his personal toy. His filthy little whore. What does he have in store...?

You don’t bother to ask where you’re going; you know him well, know he won’t tell. He loves feeling you squirm against him from behind as you agonize over not knowing. It’s literal hell.

And then, suddenly yet smoothly... his bike redirects and pulls up at the last place you’d ever expect: the movies.

What the hell? This early in the day? You can’t even remember when you and Jax last saw a movie together, out in theaters, and most certainly never a matinée. What kind of game is he trying to play...?

Scratch that—you definitely do remember the last time Jax Teller took you to the movies, at this same exact theater. Years ago on the day you first met. Day you’ll never forget. The first day of your last year in high school... that fall when you’d just moved to Charming, the new girl on campus that morning, fumbling through the halls like a fool... then you laid eyes on this guy who captured your heart without warning and had you drowning in a puddle of drool.

Needless to say, you played hooky on your very first day at Redwood Hills High. ‘Cause when Jax Fucking Teller offered you a ride on his bike... that was not something you were about to deny. Powerless to resist cutting class when he already owned your ass in every way. You were psyched. So damn psyched you could die.

And you did in fact die on that fine afternoon, when Jax took your ass out to the movies and spent the whole time ruining your pussy with his fingers and tongue and that huge monster cock till you came like a fucking monsoon.

Now here you are again. So much has changed since then, when your lifetime beside Jax began. Yet so much is the same. High school sweethearts, in love from the start... it’s been almost a decade and nothing can tear your apart. To this day you are still that same girl who repeatedly moaned out his name, in a movie theater with no fucking shame, as you came, came and came...

Your man can see the memories replaying in your head, as he removes your helmet. The sweetest little smirk lights up his gorgeous face. “Remember this place?”

You smile and nod, swooning just from the thought. “Yeah, it’s crazy that we’ve never been back here since our first date...”

“I figured it’d be cute to recreate.”

Ugh, this man is so perfect it’s rude. You playfully scrunch up your nose as the two of you hop off his ride, holding hands like teenagers as you head inside. “Since when do you do cute?”

“Since I met you, babe,” he coos, as you practically trip over your shoes, stumbling through the doorway. “What can I say, you put me in the mood...”

Jax knows already what he plans to see: some dumb romantic comedy. One that’s been out in theaters for months, so the space will be empty just like he wants. Picks up your tickets and passes right by the popcorn since you both have had plenty of food. And since he’s bound to spend the whole film facedown in your cunt. His face is gonna be fucking glued.

Well, except for when he shifts position every so often to pound you with his massive dick. You already can’t wait for it. Hope he gets to it good and quick; you’re fucking desperate...

You have no clue, just yet, how much your man is gonna make you beg for it.

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

“How many minutes of the movie do you think we managed to see on our first date?” Jax asks, as he sits his fine ass in the row farthest back. Looking like a damn snack. He’s all yours to attack, just as you are to him, and you can’t fucking wait. The lights dim, as the last of the trailers just played.

You’re the only two souls in this place, thankfully.

Scooting in beside him and all ready for him to devour your pussy, you think back to that day so long ago. “I don’t know... three?”

“Yeah, sounds right to me.”

“Let’s go for zero now, shall we...?”

“Nah, babe—that’s too easy,” he teases, resisting your hand as you reach toward the bulge in his pants to squeeze it. “We should give ourselves some kind of challenge, don’t you think? We were just kids back then. Now we’re the queen and king.”

“What’re you saying?” you mutter as you try and fail to grab hold of his dick. “Jax, please...”

“Think we should double it, at least. Let’s make it six.”

“You fucking serious?” you whimper like a spoiled little bitch. “You’re gonna make me sit through six whole minutes of this shit? You know I hate these sappy crappy chick flicks...”

“Shut up and watch,” he commands, slipping into his natural-born role of pure dominance. “Get your greedy whore hands off my crotch. I’ll tell you when you get to touch.”

Well, fuck. You know you shouldn’t push your luck, although you’re absolutely aching for his cock. You’ve never wanted anything so much.

Squirming in your seat, burning with need, you’re about to explode from the heat. You can’t be asked to keep your damn eyes on the screen, when Jax looks hotter right now than you’ve ever seen. Good enough to eat. Gawking at his chiseled profile limned by the light that projects, you just marvel at how he’s so totally perfect...

“You watching the movie, or me?”

As if he has to ask. You can’t wait till six minutes have passed. “What the fuck do you think? Don’t you wanna use me as your plaything...?”

“Sit back and obey your king.”

“Why are you being so mean...”

It’s no secret that Jax loves to torture his queen. But your juices are leaking all over the cheap fabric seat, and the mess that you’re making is fucking obscene.

That’s why you need his face to be down there to lick it all clean.

“Payback, bitch,” he replies with a devilish wink. The wink that always makes your pussy throb and twitch. It’s a whole fucking kink. “You know how it is...”

And with the words that Jax says next, denying you the privilege of having him between your legs—you understand exactly why he’s doing this. Dishing out punishment and getting off on it, because he knows that you deserve this shit. So savage and sadistic. After the way you spent yesterday pushing his buttons for kicks... now the king is the one playing tricks.

“Chick flick before dick.”

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

“Jax, I think it’s been six—”

“I’m the one keeping count, bitch. Two more minutes.”

Fuck. Every minute feels infinite. With no luck, you struggle to think about anything other than Jax Teller’s cock. How he’s probably already hard as a rock, how your pussy is bursting and needs him to get all up in it...

Now you’re pretty sure it’s been another two minutes. Moaning like a slut, you know that you should keep your mouth shut, but it’s so hard to resist. Why can’t he just get down to business? You’ve already gone ahead and taken off your panties underneath your dress, to give your husband easy access.

Forcing yourself to take your gaze off Jax, you lean your head back, close your eyes, and try to just ignore the flood between your thighs. His brutal punishment is pushing you right past your limits. Now it’s definitely been more than two minutes...

Oh shit—just then, you feel his touch upon your clit. Right here in this empty theater. You honestly couldn’t be wetter. “F-fuck, Teller… I need your dick…” “Know you do, bitch,” he snickers and wickedly curls up his fingers. “You just gotta wait till the end of the chick flick.”

Till the end of the—what?!? You groan out, needy and loud, unable to keep your mouth shut. “What the fuck...!”

Now he’s shifted position to kneel before you on the floor. The dim light in the room reflects off of the black of his kutte, as he seals your fate as his dirty little slut. Still the one in control, even down in his kneeling position, sending you reeling even deeper in submission as he uses his skillful fingers to service your soaking wet hole. “Thought you heard me before. You naughty fucking whore.”

Holy mother of shit. You’re already about to explode and can barely fight it. “Yeah, I did—”

“Then repeat it.”

You’ve never been so fucking heated, so wrecked in the head, as you echo the words he’d so cruelly said. “Chick flick before dick.”

“That’s a good girl,” Jax purrs as he slides his two fingers straight into you. Long and thick, stirring you up as they twirl, so damn sinful and slick. Growling in satisfaction, watching your reactions, enjoying the view, the sensation of you being so wet and tight. “You know what that means, right? Of course you do.”

God, this man is too good and too bad to be true... “B-but I didn’t think—”

“Bitch, I swear by the end of this flick you won’t be thinking anything,” Jax interrupts viciously, as two fingers become three. “Now sit back and be good. Let me use you like I said I would. As my filthy fucking plaything.”

Thirty seconds letter you are quaking. Heart aching. Feels like every fiber of your being is fucking breaking.

Although you know you shouldn’t dare cum without his permission... it’s harder and harder as Jax drives his digits in farther and farther, his every move sparking your fucking ignition. The tight coil of arousal inside you is past your control, as he ruthlessly ruins your hole, filling you to the core of your soul.

And before you know what’s even happened, your body explodes with an orgasm more intense than anything you have ever imagined. Beyond your wildest dreams. The whole town of Charming can no doubt hear your screams, as you frantically shout out the name of your king, in this fucking theater, cunt spastically squirting all over the letters engraved in his thick metal rings.

“Such a sweet fucking cunt,” he grunts, watching your face with a devilish chuckle, as he slurps the taste of you off of his knuckles. “But you’re so disobedient. Cumming before I allowed it? Mmm, almost as if you want more fucking punishment... can’t live without it...”

Your whole body shivers and convulses, as your pussy quivers and pulses. “J-Jax...”

As you clumsily try to pull him toward you for a kiss, he pins down both your wrists. Has no patience for any of this. Jax’s dominance hits like a fucking attack. “Slut, I told you to shut up and sit... the fuck... back.”

The first time you came, only his hands were to blame; your sex god of a husband had not even started to use his mouth yet.

Now he starts. And the second his tongue hits your sensitive pussy, so swollen and juicy, unspeakably wet... you already feel ripped apart. Ripped to shreds. Already dead.

He’s licking at your slit, while sucking on your clit, and you’re losing your absolute shit.

You’re pretty sure you just came three times in less than a minute, but it’s not as if you’re in a state to keep track. You can’t bear to look down at him doing his thing, golden hair gleaming in the faint light as he feasts on your cunt like a king. You’ve always been his personal plaything. He has every right to eat you like a snack.

Yet he’s pushing you past every possible limit of orgasms and that’s a fact.

You just moan and gasp, losing what little grasp you have on sanity, slipping away from reality, throwing your head further back. “Jax—fuck, Jaxxx...!”

After his next round of wrecking, he finally pauses for just a few seconds. You need him to cut this shit out but can’t say it aloud; you don’t have any breath left for begging.

His flawless face is glistening in your juices, snickering as he gets off on putting you through this. Whenever the king and queen go to battle in the bedroom or any damn context involving sex... queen always loses.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what Jax says next.

“You good?”

What the—did he just—

But before you can even attempt to protest, the bastard goes back at it like no man on earth ever should. ‘Cause of course he would. He fucking would.

The audacity?!?! You have officially lost any hope of regaining your sanity. Ever.

FUCK Jax Fucking Teller. You should’ve known that you were doomed from the day you two first got together, right in this theater...

But then again, you fucking did. Of course you fucking knew it. Knew all along that this would happen. And that is exactly what you had imagined, what you had signed up for: to serve him forever, to let him destroy you whenever, wherever, use and abuse you as his own personal fucking whore.

Your soul doesn’t even belong to you anymore. Jax Fucking Teller just sucked it right out of you, several times over. He’s not even done yet. Won’t be till you’re dead. Your man is one goddamn savage motherfucker, but that is what makes him the most perfect lover.

Although you’re not sure if you’ll ever recover... you do know one thing for sure: by the end of this movie—even if your poor pussy physically can’t take an orgasm more, really, truly—you’re taking his dick. Dick is the only cure. You fucking live and die for Jax Teller’s dick. Fucking need it more than you can even afford.

And that is why from this day forward, you both know that no chicks—and sure as hell no goddamn chick flicks—will ever come before.

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

Hope you enjoyed this, and would love to hear if you did! 🤗❤️

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thesmokingguns · 3 years

Text

Wedding Season

Tommy

-Welcome to the Wedding Date expert

-Getting ready together and he matches his bow tie to your dress

-“Can you help me?” Helping him tie his bow tie and he uses the moment where you’re so close that he can kiss you

-Well you’re finishing getting ready he makes sure the car is out front.

-“Wow, babe, you’re going to make the bride jealous”

-Double checking to make sure that you have the gift and adding more money to the card

- Hes so excited to go to this wedding together and have a good time celebrating people

-Hes going to talk about all his favorite parts of the ceremony and things that he enjoys or would want in the future

“I love love”

-He is a wedding guest expert. He seems to know all the wedding coordinators and people working the event

-“Hey Sherry, another beautiful event!”

-He brings you a glass of champagne during cocktail hour and wants to talk about the vows

-“I don’t want to get married in a church. Maybe a cool Japanese garden or on the beach. I’d write my vows too. None of that obey shit. What do you think, babe?”

-He tips the band at cocktail hour and drags you out, making you laugh as you dance

-Introduces you to all his friends

-“I can’t wait to see you in a white dress”

-He is slamming his silverware against the glass to have the couple kiss all night

-Tommy will wander off to talk to someone so he’s not by your side all night but he waves at you and sends smiles your way

-He comes up with a plan so you catch the bouquet and he gets the garter

-“Throw some elbows of you have to”

-He breaks a chair jumping off it to catch the garter and almost lands on some guys.

-He offers to pick you up and give you extra height so you catch the bouquet

-“THATS MY FUCKING GIRL!” he’s amped that you caught the bouquet

-He thinks he’s going to something so sexy putting the garter on you but as he gets a view at what would be your underwear he sees you’re not wearing any.

-“Babe!”

-Laughing because you knew exactly what was going to happen as he slides the garter on you in front of his family. He’s blushing and it’s both cute and hysterical how flustered he is

-Tommy putting his jacket over your shoulders as you head up to the hotel room after

-“We should get married this summer”

-You’ve been dating for two months and it’s March

Vince

-Imagine that you’ve just spent two hours getting yourself fully ready and you’re about to leave for a wedding and down the stairs comes your man child boyfriend fully dressed in a three piece tuxedo complete with a top hat alll in white

-“What do you think?”

-He does a spin, pulls the lapels of his jacket and is smiling proud of his outfit.

-Dragging him to his room to change into a new suit

-Pouty Princess in the passenger seat of the car as you drive to the wedding

-Trying to reassures him that when it’s his wedding he can wear a white suit

-“You’ll let me wear white to our wedding?”

-He’s so sincere when he says it’s so he is holding your hand you agree even though it’s been over four years and he hasn’t really showed any interest in settling down

-Vince will talk shit about everything that he doesn’t like

-He keeps referring to “our” wedding

-he takes full advantage of the open bar and he just is getting hammered

-“I think I want pink and white roses. Like a whole fucking garden of them.”

-Having to tell him to stop talking about a fake wedding at a real wedding

-Pouty Princess gets really mad and goes to pout at the bar

-He gets up on stage and starts singing because he hates the live band

-Coaxing him off stage promising that you’ll dance with him

-“I want to go home. This club sucks.”

-Just reminding him that you’re at a wedding for your close friends

-Vince goes outside and you spend twenty minutes looking for him. You follow the sound of someone puking and find him wiping his mouth

-“they gave me the cheap stuff, honey. it’s not my fault.”

-He won’t be dragged out of the garden easily and you’re fucking horrified when he gets down on one knee at a wedding

-“Honey, I love you so much. I’ve been trying all week to figure out the best place to do this-“

-he suddenly is patting his suit and realizes that he changed before they left

-“We need to go home.” He’s standing up and you want to die of embarrassment as he’s dragging you through the wedding where a few of these people just saw him on one knee

-Anxious leg bouncing in the car, window down because he might puke again

-He’s falling up the stairs when he gets home ripping apart his white suit.

-Running down the stairs he finds you and gets down on one knee again

-“I have the ring this time.”

-Hes kind of a huge idiot but you like that he has a plan. Also you’re worried because you’re going to marry bridezilla

Mick

-If it wasn’t one of his bandmates weddings he wouldn’t be going

-If he wasn’t in the wedding party there is no way that he would wear a suit

-When he is waiting with one of the bridesmaids he’s paired with hands him her flask

-“I’m trying to stay sober to keep everyone in check”

-She scoffs and he turns to see her chugging it down before giving him another chance go to take it., which he does downing the rest of it.

-Trying to make sure all the guys are doing the right thing and keep everyone alive

-Taking pictures he finds out that the mystery bridesmaid is the brides best friend from childhood

-“I’m going to the bar.”

-He decides he needs to just have sex with someone at the wedding as a reward for actually coming here

-Looking at the wedding guests and wondering if he’s going to be alone forever

-Thinking about what a waste weddings are and how they should have saved their money

-Knows that bride shouldn’t be in pure white

-The flowers make him sneeze

-The bridesmaid is at the end of the bar and he is suddenly handed a drink she has bought him. He watches as she cheers the airs downing the three fingers of white alcohol in one sip before walking away.

-“Oh no you fucking don’t.”

-He is trying to find this girl who keeps showing up with alcohol

-Mick keeps loosing his clothes. His jacket is lost, his vest is unbuttoned and the bow tie is untied

-“Fucking Women”

- he spots her headed into the elevator and frowns when it closes. When it reopens he sees red lipstick kisses around 7

-“If she put her mouth on that...”

-He’s slamming the lucky number 7 as fast as he can

-When the door open he sees a shoe and a few paces away another one.

-As he’s walking and sees her dress and her underwear is hanging on the doorknob

-“Women like this is why I’m never getting married”

-He opens the door and he’s glad he made it go the wedding

Nikki

-“Angel, you’re going to make us late!”

-He is indiffernt about going to weddings. One part of him likes socializing and seeing people and the other part of him hated leaving the house

-Checking his watch and getting ready to go through you over his shoulder so they could leave

-When he sees her coming down the stairs he doesn’t want to go to the wedding anymore and he lets her know

-Nikki kind of is a huge show off so we plans on pulling up in this Porsche

-He wants to spend the entire time with his lady

-Even as they sit through the vows he’s reaching out running his hand over your hands

-Leaning over to whisper, “This reminds us of our wedding.”

-kissing your knuckles

-Always touching you and seeming almost anxious whenever of you steps away

-Hand on your back when you’re talking to other people, holding your hands when you’re walking and just a weakling his arms around to kiss as much as possible

-“I’m so happy you’ll always be my wedding date, Angel.”

-Checking in throughout the night to make sure that you’re okay and having a good time

-“excuse me, I’m going to steal her for this song”

-Has requested your wedding song and is slow dancing telling you all the reasons that he loves you

-Nikki loves holding you when you dance even if he hates dancing

-Taking you out to cool down and walk along the beach together

-He throws down his jacket sitting on it and pulling you into his lap

-He had literally scoped out a place where you two could make out or go further

-“you looked so beautiful, Angel. I couldn’t wait until we got home”

-Going back to everyone at the party and he’s just giving you this look the whole time like he can’t get you out of his mind

-Nikki talks to the groom about what makes marriage so great

-“You wake up to the most beautiful view every morning no matter where in the world you are”

-Being at the wedding just reminds him how happy he is to be married

-Watching his wife dancing with the girls and smiling at how she always has fun

-When Nikki’s at the bar with the guys he sees you bent down talking to the flower girl and starts thinking of you as a mother

-Nikki knows it will be a few years away because he can’t share you yet

-Smiling when you slide into his lap, holding you to him and knowing you’re going to leave soon

-“I love you.”

-Wedding season is the best for this sentimental gummy bear

#nikki sixx #motley crue #mötley crüe #tommy lee #vince neil #daddy sixx #mick mars #nikki six fanfic #nikki sixx x oc #motley crue imagine #Motley Crue head cannon #headcanon

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

a friendly face

a lil one inspired from seeing the recent interviews abt cherry - yes im a couple days late but am very slow. This is basically stolen and adapted from another of my stories so I don't think there's any bits left over by my dyslexic proof reading isnt that great so apologies!!! very speech heavy so sorry am trying to balance my writing more

Summary: Tom is having a hard time filming Cherry and dealing with the emotional baggage of it, so Harry recruits someone to make everything that little bit better.

tomhollandxreader

fluff and a little angst I guess?

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Harry, Tom and their driver Sian where all sitting in the car having left the set 20 minutes ago, heading back to their accommodation. Or more precisely, Harry and Sian sat in the two front seats- Harry only in the front as to allow Tom to lie down across the three back seats. He was asleep, or at least looked asleep, but Harry knowing his brother so well knew he was just wishing he was. The day had been torturous for Tom, they’d been filming a hospital sequence in which his character was heart broken. The sequence had involved him being thrown onto the floor multiple times, by a heavy handed stunt double who was not nearly as precise as those he’d worked with at ‘marvel’. Furthermore, there was also multiple scenes of him having to properly cry on camera, which although it sounds tame, is one of the hardest things you can ever ask an actor to do. At least, someone who commits half as much as Tom. For him to show that emotion, he had to go back to a place in his life where he didn’t really ever want to venture again. But even then, this character was such a fuck up, he had to do deeper. He felt completely drained, emotionless and cold. But he couldn’t sleep, not for the guilt he felt for being short with everyone on set- he had never been like that before, he just felt like no one was respecting or understanding what he was going through. So instead he just lay on his side, facing the backs of the leather seats, arms folded in stubbornness- even if he had no idea why.

“Tom?…Tom, I know you’re awake… Look, we need to make a quick stop. You gotta come out.” Harry was actually slightly nervous his brother would just point blank refuse, even if he needed this so bad.

“I just need to get back to the apartment. Please Harry. Can’t we do it tommorrow?” The desperation dripping off Tom’s voice actually pained Harry to listen to. He knew Tom was having a crisis about how he treated everyone today, so chose to ignore his please in favour of some assurance.

“You know everyone understands… They just kept asking me if you were alright?” Harry could see the guilt radiating off Tom. It hurt him to see his big brother like this.

“Please… I just need to get back” His small voice barely made it to the front of the car, but Harry heard it all.

“It will take 2 minutes tops, I had a delivery but I need a hand carrying it, come on” Harry spoke as Sian turned on the indicator to pulled up next to the sidewalkpavement; the car slowing to a gentle halt. Tom didn’t reply, instead huffing as he used the head rest of the middle seat to pull himself up. Already out the car, Harry opened the door for him waiting patiently, because Harry knew he would be a hundred times better off in just a few moments.

“What the hell have you even ordered that’s so big?” Tom sighed while ducking through the door into the cold Cleveland air, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk as Harry motioned for him to follow his feet.

“Oh um don’t know, a good friend sent it actually” Harry tried to hide the grin that was spread over his face from showing in his voice, as he saw a very familiar head of hair running toward them.

“What friend?” Tom looked up sassily toward Harry, shortly questioning who would send Harry a parcel from England that was too big to be delivered or carried by himself. Only then, nearly 5 metres away from Sian in the car, did Tom look up to see where they were. It wasn’t the nearest post office or delivery warehouse - they were at the airport. “Harry what’s going on?” Tom questioned with a low and warning voice, skipping a step or two in order to catch up with his younger brother.

“We’re collecting her” Harry smiled as he nodded forward. Following his gaze with eyes wide open, Tom turned forward just in time to see Y/h/c flying over his face as he was engulfed by someones arms. Immediately sensing exactly who this was, Tom did not hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist and push his head into your neck. Smelling the familiar perfume, Tom couldn’t help but scoff, allowing a the jerky breath to leave his lungs as you arched away from the hug, cupping Tom’s face with both her hands.

“I’ve been reliably informed you could use a friendly face” you smiled, noticing his raw emotions threatening to overtake him, so swiftly pressing just pressing your lips onto his. Seemingly frightened to move, Tom barely reacted to the kiss, so you pushed and deepened into it a little more- till you felt him relaxing against you. With that, you arched away again and smiled massaging his stubbly hair behind his left ear.

“How are you here?” He croaked staring deeply at her, switching between her left and right eye as if that somehow would confirm that this was real, not some cruel dream he was having.

“Someone somewhere knew you were in need and bought me a plane ticket over… I’m coming home with you on monday” You grinned while watching Tom’s eyes light up, he leaned in again to your lips instead of replying.

“Er-cuh-huh” Harry loudly cleared his throat, causing the two to pull away from each other. “Sorry to interrupt, but Sian isn’t really allowed to stop there long sooo” They both nodded, before Tom lunged at his brother, holding him close and whispering thanks too. It was clear this was at least partly Harry’s doing, and he could never thank his brother enough.

“Umm.. as much as I’m enjoying this brotherly love we really do have to get back in the car” Harry awkwardly spoke as he almost pushed Tom off him.

“Awww my favourite little brother being all mature” You giggled, taking your turn to hug Harry, admittedly a little shorter than Tom’s, but still with lots of gratitude.

“Please get stop loving me and get back into the car!” Harry yelled as he stormed off to Sian, leaving both you and Tom in fits of laughter. Grasping each others hand simultaneously the laughter continued as you followed Harry down the street to the car.

Seeing you standing there; feeling your arms wrapped round his neck ; hearing your oh so sweet voice had Tom feeling…. Feeling lighter. It was as though your mere presence gave him the strength to carry all the things that were previously weighing him down like a truck. What was extraordinary though, was how it wasn’t just psychological. He literally felt his joints feel looser, he felt his body flood with warmth and he felt his heart calming down. When you’d first been getting close to each you’d had rather the opposite effect. Which was surprising because that was at the point Tom had never felt more confident - he had just returned form a avengers press tour, where naturally everyone had just loved him and played up to his every whim. He had legions of girls, some of them drop dead gorgeous where falling at his feet. And yet, when he met you it was as though he was transported back into his incredibly awkward teenage years. It was infuriating, he knew he could act cool and unbothered and smooth however as soon as you stood informant of his it was like his mind melted, filling it with utter gibberish and garble. In fact, he was plainly floored by you - how kind and pure hearted you were, how respectful and how you found hhis jilted flirting adorable and not to forget how drop dead gorgeous you are.

It had taken a while and a hell of a lot of opening up, but over time he found the opposite happening. Your presence became something else entirely, not one that would put him on his toes and have his heart racing - more of a comfort. He slept better when you were beside him, his nerves never got the better of him if you were there to cheer him on. He could relax completely without any fear of judgement, any worry at all with you. What you had done is change the definition of something so fudemental and a given in life. You’d changed home from a place to something much more intangible. A person; a feeling; a connection. You were his home.

“Sian are we close?” You asked, turning your attention away from the two brothers annecdotes from filming, realising Sian must’ve been driving for about 30 minutes.

“Yep just the next right I think” Sian replied gently while turning the wheel as the indicator clicked.

“Where are we going?” Tom asked, looking first at you then pleadingly at Harry- knowing he had more of a chance with his brother.

“Well” You started and he whipped his head back round “I know it’s late and you’ve been working all day, but you have alater 10 o’clock call time tomorrow instead of 6, so this is the best night to do something. We found a driving range-with heaters” which was a very important factor since Cleveland was bloody freezing “- that we thought you’d like to play a game or two?” The massive smile in response meant you’d hit the nail on the head.

“And soz but I’m crashing the game otherwise- and no offence, but you would win waayyyy toooo easy Tom” Harry butted in and sniggered as he interrupted the lovey-dovey stares. You gasped at that in mock offence, holding your hand over your chest.

“Oi you, Paddy has been teaching on the Holland boys days out you both missed- I’ll have you know I now am aware that you have to get the ball into the hole, not a goal as previously thought.”

The boys both groaned in unison and Y/n wiggled her eyebrow grinning, elbowing Tom slightly in the side. “Things might have changed since you left you know?”

Yet another thing Tom loved so completely about you, was how effortlessly you had fitted into his family. Honestly, none of the Hollands could imagine life without you anymore - especially Nikki, who had quite literally attempted adopting you so she officially wasnt the only female in the immediate family. Sam used you as an expert taster for all his marvellous culinary creations (even if your judgement was always the same, it was very good); Dom often ended up picking your brains about your work, he found you ‘actual proper’ job as a doctor simply amazing , where all his family had never been especially acadmeically gifted; and Paddy just plain saw you as his older sister. So it was hardly surprising at all that when two of their actual kids flew across the world , you’d been the obvious placeholder. Yes, golf was most definitely your forte - but you were enthusiastic, with a positive (if flightily misguided) give it a go attitude.

The try-try-and-try-again attitude that never really worked … until Paddy taught you how to hit a clean drive.

“I am not joking, I am asking the lady at the desk there’s no way!”

“Tom you are the worst looser I have ever met! I didn’t cheat, I’ve just taken up a new hobby”

“There is no way Tom… no way she can get that good” Harry huffed as he ran straight past you to catch up with Tom, making sure that you did see the harsh glare he shot him. The outrage that Y/n had beaten them both at the driving range was way worse than anything you could’ve predicted- now you sort of were wishing you’d let them win. Oh wait…. Of course you weren’t - this was priceless. Especially their faces when you’d launched your first ball super accurately inn the centre of the second furthest away target. They had reacted as if you had just stripped butt naked, you thought; standing their jaws hanging with a look of almost fear in their eyes.

“You could see the balls land with your own eyes! Practice makes perfect!”

“Thats not fair though! It took you like 8 weeks to be like that?”

“I mean you were obviously just taught by the wrong Holland, Paddy’s a pretty good teacher!” You smiled as your trio turned the corner and walked through reception, seeing Harry desperate to ask the receptionist but Tom just looking over his shoulder to give a hurt look to at you.

“I’m going to ban you from being closer to my brothers than me”

“I can’t help if he’s cuter then you alright?” You smirked and raised an eyebrow, as Tom stopped in his tracks and turned to face you.

“That’s it… your gonna get it” he spoke in a low voice, with a mischievous look in his eye, abruptly he launched himself at you - barely having time to swerve away from him and start a sprint towards the exit, giggling as you took a glance back to see Tom chasing you out, Harry quickly in tow too.

“Your not allowed to beat me at golf!” In a jokey voice, you heard Tom yell, just as you reached the sleek black 4x4 and hurdling yourself into it.

“I’m in the car it’s a no fight zone!” You cowered in the corner,back pressed up against the opposite door and arms crossed to make an ‘x’ sign in front of her body.

“That is not how it works” Tom and Harry grinned from the open door. As fast as lightning they both vaulted in and started tickling you, making you screech curses at the two of them.

“Alright alright kids, no fighting while I’m driving thats an order.” Sian calmly spoke, trying to hide the laughter from her voice, as the two men retreated and helped to pull you up from the position half on the floor that your squirming had gotten you to.

“Get off my leg Tom… arghhh… thanks Sian, I’m sorry they’re so moody, I just whipped their asses at golf”

“You’re here to make me feel better right? Not doing a good job so far” Tom’s snide remark meant you scrunched up your nose while plugging her seatbelt in, making sure to jab Tom’s side hard as you did so.

“How did I end up sandwiched in between you two twats then?” You grinned from the middle seat as Harry just rolled his eyes looking out the window, and Tom gave you a loving smile- not able to hide his relief of your presence.

“Think it’s about a 40 minute drive you gotta enjoy” Sian smiled looking at you via the rear view mirror, to which Tom couldn’t quite stifle the yawn that escaped.

After all he had done much more than the typical 9-5 hours work, and the golfing was an unexpected addition to the already long day. His excitement and just pure joy at having you here had made him forget about It all for a couple of hours - but now his exhaustion was catching up with him with a vengeance. Instinctively you wrapped you arm round Tom and in doing so pulled him into your side.

“Get some rest huh?” You whispered into his forehead, and all Tom could do was reply with a weary nod, letting his eyes slip close to the constant beat of Ally’s heart. You immediately sensed Tom was properly out of it, and contented yourself looking out his window for a few minutes, before you felt something heavy briefly whack your other shoulder. Jumping a little at the contact, you looked round to see Harry’s head bobbing side to side in a light slumber. In the midst of worry for Tom, you hadn’t realised the kid had been doing the same long hours as him. Plus dealing with Tom and being Tom’s support, which surely took it out of him. Harry had always been ‘the most important brother’ in your eyes. Just because Tom trusts him so implicitly and completely, they had an understanding only real brothers could get to but also extended far beyond blood. When you’d first been introduced Harry had been colder to you. It wasn’t personal though, he just wanted to be sure on you and your intentions with Tom because as he well knew often when people saw Tom they didn’t just see an opportunity for love. It was an opportunity for a lifestyle, for fame, for relevance. Harry took a while before he trusted you but now you were miles and miles beyond that point. So now, being at a stage with Harry where he was phoning you to come and fly out to save Tom (and him too). It was not to be taken lightly. Therefore, you gently pressed your hand to Harrys face and pushed him to lean against her other shoulder too- hoping to cure the dark circles under his eyes a little bit too.

You were quite content for the rest of the journey, feeling warmth radiate through your body as the two men breathed deeply and calmly either side of you. You sort of didn’t want the car journeyer to end - but sure enough it wasn’t long till Sian was pulling into the hotel entrance.

“Get you a girl that can do both, beat yo ass at golf and look after your family” Sian whispered as she handed the phone back to you, after having taken some of your favourite ever photos, the 2 boys asleep on your shoulders while you pulled a variety of different faces. Smiling back at Sian, you then sighed-knowing she had to wake the two up, given their exhaustion you didn’t really want to either.

“Boys…boys… hey let’s get you both into bed yeh?” You spoke softly, gently raising your shoulders in order to disturb them both. Harry’s head immediately shot up, his eyes puffy and half open, but a sheepish look on his face as he realised how he was sleeping. Just responding with a smile that said it was all okay, before you turned her attention to Tom- forever stubborn to wake up, at least nothing had changed there.

“Come on Tom, can’t have you sleeping in the car all night” You pushed again, this time lifting Tom’s head, earning a very deep groan as his eyes slid open and he pushed against the movement. It was at this point Harry slammed the car door shut, making Tom jump out of his skin, you loosing the hope of any serene wakeup call. Rubbing Toms arm, relaxing the tension now present in his body you encouraged him once again. “Come on lets get inside mister”

His hotel room was exactly what you’d expect for an a-lister and lead actor in a million pound film. Large, modern, squeaky clean and posh. It was almost too big to be filled by one person though, Tom had always found it a bit cold and just not cosy - why he opted to spend the majority of his down time either fast alseep or in somebody else’s company. Both of those also stopped him getting too much in his head - or more accurately in his characters head. Cherry was a weird character and from interviewing all the veterans and lengthy discussion of his past, Tom almost felt as if he had in some small way experienced what Cherry had. Felt what Cherry did. Thought like Cherry did.

And that was a sure fire way to fuck yourself up.

Now, with you here in his room haphazardly digging through your case, if felt warmer. The cold but brilliant white lights seemed to have softened to a gently warm glow that bounced off your skin and made your figure look almost angelic to Tom. You were his home.

“What are you waiting for?” You mused while turning away from your (now) inside out suitcase, proudly carrying her pyjamas which you had found hidden at the bottom the whole time- not the most practical packing in the world. All the while Tom sat on his bed, back leaning against the headboard and arm bent behind his head too.

“Just thinking that I need to go through all the scenes for tomorrow” A monotonous tone laced his voice, for he knew he couldn’t spend the night the way he really wanted to, safely wrapped up with you.

“Oh… well let’s go through it together then hey? We will be done in no time; but if you want we can go over them again tomorrow morning.” It was a practical suggestion, a helpful action you could implement - even if you had a feeling Tom wouldn’t just agree. Since his lines clearly weren’t the only thing on his mind this evening.

“Yeh but everyone on set is already sick of me after today… I can’t be being shit as well as horrid” his voice was small as the memory of how he snapped at some of the extras had him cringing inwardly at himself. He shouldn’t have been that rude, shouldn’t have blurted it out, should of offered a solution rather than just critiquing.

“Hey would you kindly shut it? No one is sick of you, everyone is just ready for christmas and missing their families. Now get changed” Your soft tone turning into an imperative order, as you threw his pyjama bottoms at the him, smashing into his face before falling into his lap.

“Oi” he shouted, but followed instructions and stood up reaching round to pull his hoodie off. Stood shirtless, his side was exposed to the now changed you, the sight making you gasp and clamber over the bed to gently touch Tom’s back. You followed the outline of an impressive patch of bruising, stretching from the bottom edge of his shoulder blade all the way to his hip.

“Tom, what the hell happened?” Whispering in fear, Tom turned round to face you, seeing your eyes watering up as you kept glancing at his back. He was littered in a variety of purple, yellow and slightly green marks on the whole of his left flank. It looked like a minor crush injury, not something a pampered actor gets after a day of filming infront of tens of people including an onset medic and health and safety risk assessor.

“What?” Tom asked before turning to the mirror and looking back over his shoulder to see the bruises for himself. He hadn’t expected the ache to look that bad. “oh - I - er… Today the scene, I get smashed to the floor by someone and I kept doing it wrong so we had to do it lots I guess.” He looked away and down at your feet, not being able to meet his girlfriends eyes suddenly. You just nodded, trying to blink back the tears- he had truly been broken by this role both physically and now mentally- he hadn’t even put a stop to the constant and clearly severe pain.

“Put your stuff on” your voice was muted, as you waited for Tom to get prepared. He turned around again and then replaced his trousers and quickly pulled a top on to hide the marks, suddenly embarrassed. In the silence the sound of his clothes dropping to the floor, then of him sitting on the bed again- throwing his legs over so now he mirrored your position - the sounds were pretty defeaning.

“I love you so much….” Barely whispering, you suddenly ripped the duvet out from under you both holding it over you as you swung a leg over Tom so you straddled him, slightly leaning over him and letting the blanket rest on top of your back.In your position you looked down in an almost scary way to his warm brown eyes. Tom swore you were literally reading his thoughts, your intense gaze absolutely crumbling any walls he thought he’d be able to hold up. Pressing a gentle peck to his lips you then whispered onto his lips, letting him feel your words as well as hear them. “ …So that’s why we are going to sleep right now and you can worry about all of that tomorrow”

“Y/n I-“

“Your safe with me.” You were not standing for his nexuses and arguments, as you slid down his body - ending with your head resting on his chest, you legs tangled with his. Once you’re properly rested you’ll learn them ten times faster than what you can now… Before you get ill I am telling you to take a break. I’m not going to let you not. So relax and-….Tom?” Ending with a whisper, you delicately lifted your head off his slowly rising chest to see your broken boyfriend already asleep; lips parted as soft snores crept through the silence. In reality as soon as you’d said that he was safe the exhaustion had completely over taken him. Desperately needing to recharge his batteries, no matter how much he had wanted to stay up and work late it could never really happen - at this point physically impossible.

“Sleep well Tom” she smiled, planting a kiss on his cheek with a sad smile.

///////////////////////////////////////////

The next day rolled around all too quickly, but the morning was much better than any of the past couple of months because you were together. Tom, having had a solid 7 hours of sleep compared to his normal 5, was for once ready for the day. He’d gone through the script with a certain someones help in record time, and now the three were just pulling up at the set.

“You’ve been awful quiet this car ride…” you grinned as she clasped Tom’s hand across the empty seat, making Harry turn around and give you a warning glance. Oops. In a moment where Tom went to the loo at breakfast, Harry had fully disclosed everything that had happened on set yesterday- especially the burst of anger. So naturally, Tom was feeling nervous and scared to face everyone.

“It will be fine I promise… and if not tell them I’m your personal body guard- no one will be rude to you if me and Harry are ready to attack” Tom let out a breathy nervous laugh, only then meeting your eyes.

“ A fly wouldn’t be threatened by you two. Harry would just take a photo while you’d check their pulse or something”

“Errrm” Harry furrowed his eyebrows as he contorted round from the front seat so Tom could see his disapproving look, meanwhile Tom was dodging your affectionate fake-slaps.

“Children we’re here” Sian sighed as she brought the car to a steady halt “and if you could get through the day without killing each other I’d appreciate it, otherwise I’m out of the job”

“Not promising anything when I’ve got these pair to deal with” Tom grinned as he opened the car door, before anyone else could retaliate.You laughed before quickly following suit, joining Tom at the front of the car and interlocking your fingers with Tom’s. Hesitating for a moment Harry took a second before unplugging and leaning for the door handle.

“You see what I mean?” Turning his head to look at Sian “It’s sickening how happy they are.”

“Yeh but your glad about it don’t lie” she grinned, before practically shooing the poor boy out her car.

“But dont tell them!” Shouting in reply, as the car was already pulling out.

Tom’s body seemed to tense more the closer you walked to the crew tent, you could feel the way he squeezed his shoulders back and his jaw tensed and untensed. There was little you could do apart from squeezing his hand that little bit tighter - further reiterating the fact you would always always be in his corner. Perhaps the most telling about Tom’s own character was how truly guilty he felt for the way he was with the crew. Normally, he was one of the most down to earth actors around - no trace of an ego or superiority complex. It didn’t matter if you were a cleaner or head of a multimillion dollar studio, Tom would pay both the same amount of respect. He always out that completely down to his upbringing and mum and dad, but even that was being humble. He was just a good person to the core, no one saw that more than you either. It’s part of love, you see the good and the bad parts of a person and promise to unashamedly love them all.

Just before you both had made it into the main tent, Tom was pulled away. “Oh Tom we wanted to talk to you about yesterday!” The familiar voice of Joe Russo called, as he and Anthony ran up to Tom from his left, giving a little nod of greeting to the actor, before falling in step with him.

“Morning, I-uh I wanted to apologise actually-“Tom was cut off while you hung back off to his right, not wanting to intrude on this conversation.

“No we should. The team were all being slow yesterday, and they were making some hard scenes harder on you. We really appreciate what you are putting yourself through for the sake of the film.”

“But still I acted like a brat and I’m sorry”

“Tom” Anthony spoke up for the first time. He was a man of limited words- but whenever he spoke everyone listened. “ You are one of the best, most-dedicated actors we’ve ever worked with. We’re all overtired, run down and ready for the holidays. You’re missing your family too. It’s already forgotten… So let’s just get on with the movie?” Tom smiled, pressing his lips together to stop their kindness overtaking his emotions. Tom always felt safe with the Russo’s. They’d dealt with him when he really just was a kid actor - overwhelmed and without a clue what was happening. They’d dealt with hiM adjusting to fame and the much bigger part Marvel seemed to want him to play in the future. They trusted him with this, most incredibly complex and also personal film for them. So when they spoke and they said it didn’t matter, Tom was much more likely to agree. Then proceeded the bro-hugs, as the men all showed they were good with each other.

“Well lets make a motherfucking movie!” Tom exclaimed once they broke the hug and the brothers laughed at him. “Oh where-d….” He muttered as he looked round before meeting your eyes, still standing rather awkwardly a couple of meters behind them. “ Joe, Anthony you remember Y/n?” Nodding and smiling the brothers beckoned you over; both greeting you with a warm handshake.

“Good to see you again!” You grinned and the directors responded nodding.

“We didn’t know you were coming! I would’ve made a list of all my doctor question for you.” Joe winked, knowing your pet-peeve was people asking you all their gory body questions as soon as they found out she was a doctor. You didn’t need to know about you dentists acid reflux issue, you didn’t need to know about your granny’s friend’s constipation, and you really really didn’t need to know about an old friends erectile dysfunction.

“Ha ha ha “ You rolled your eyes sarcastically “ and no it was a bit of a spontaneous trip, I just landed last night.” Throughout the whole of the exchange Anthony had taken an aloof stance, just observing you and Tom. Observing the bright smile Tom gave you, even when you were simply making small talk. The way he looked so much healthier, well rested and just happy, in the space of a single evening.

“I’m glad you’re here” Anthony basically interrupted the conversation, addressing you then immediately turning on his heel towards the set.

“Uhh right- get to make up we’ll call a cast meeting in a bit” Joe stammered, giving his brother a funny look before addressing Tom “ and we’ll have to have a proper catch up later.” You nodded in response, as Joe turned and did a half jog to catch up with his brother.

“That was weird!?” You frowned as you looked up at Tom. He explained the encounter in rather simplistic terms.

“That was Anthony.”

The morning was spent with Tom doing what he does best in front of the camera. They were shooting a larger scene for the army section of the movie, with at least 100 actual soldiers as extras, all geared up in full camo outfits. It was impressive, but also gave you a chance to meet Ciara - you’d been dying to meet her since Tom told you what a laugh she was. Fair to say you weren’t disappointed at all, you guys hitting it off instantly and you going as far as giving Ciara some embarrassing Tom stories that she could wind him up with in the future. Of course though, the main attraction was seeing Tom act first hand. Every time it astounded you, even though you knew that face so completely, in all his movies he fully had you believing he was someone else. It was mesmerising and you couldn’t be any prouder.

“You’re amazing! I seriously forgot how good you are!” You ran over as Joe Russo called cut to the end of the morning shoot.

“Well er thanks I guess” Tom furrowed his eyebrows as you wrapped him in a hug. He’d just canned a pretty hard scene and everyone was more than ready for a lunch break. You’s been watching from behind the cameras with Harry the whole time, after Tom gave you permission to sit in his special set chair.

“Seriously I’m very…. “ Her speech broken with an impressive yawn “….very proud of you.” In thanks Tom gave you a kiss first to your nose and then lips.

“I take it someones not adapting to jet lag?” He chuckled as he pulled away and cupped your face in his hands.

“Which I’m totally ashamed about considering I work night shifts… my body clocks supposed to be better than this” Angrily, you vented, frustrated at your own body when all you wanted to do was stays within reaching distance of Tom. Even if Tom had had the best sleep of this whole shoot last night, you’d been to over excited and enthralled just absorbing every little thing about him that you’d missed so much that you’d been wide awake the majority of the night. If you blamed you fatigue on jet lag alone, it would be an impressive lie.

“Go take a nap in my trailer… Harry can you take her?”

“Yes master” Harry bowed down and wobbled his head sarcastically, making you giggle.

“At least this way you get a break from him” You grinned to Tom’s brother, which Harry could only agree with. Giving Tom a parting kiss , you followed Harry away from set. It was at this point that Anthony excused himself from the monitors reviewing the footage, and approached Tom.

“Kid… that was great that scene.”

“Thanks mate, means a lot” Getting his directors approval forever reassured Tom, letting him relax his shoulders a bit as he nodded gratefully to Anthony.

“Well it’s just truth… so your girlfriend, Y/n right?”

“Yeh that’s her” Tom nodded, suddenly a little concerned as to where Anthony was going with this. You had met the Russo’s a number of times, and it never before seemed as though Anthony had an issue with you- at least to Tom’s knowledge.

“Right well um… you know how I don’t really get involved in all this stuff…” Tom nodded, folding his arms apprehensively. “But I just thought I should say that she’s really good for you.” Tom silently breathed a sigh of relief and waited for Anthony to get to the point. “Joe told me you had a rough patch at the beginning of the year so… I don’t know our industry is hard. And harder for you and her in the spotlight… Just seeing you with her today…Don’t be afraid to take the next steps with her…Don’t let her get away.” Tom was stunned to say the least. Anthony is the last person he had ever expected to get relationship advice from.

“I um yeh… I don’t know I hadn’t really thought about it. I mean we’ve been together for 2 and a bit years, well including the break… she means the world to me-“

“Well don’t waste it”

And that was the end of the conversation. Anthony turned to his trailer to get lunch and Tom just stood, replaying the conversation in his head. Weird to say the least.

But it did get the cogs turning. It did get Tom really seriously considering his future. Or rather considering your future together.

And that was for certain. It was you and him, always.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tomholland #Harry Holland #tom holland x y/n

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unadulteratedkr · 2 years

Note

The Locked Tomb!!!

Yessssssss

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most)

Okay. So. This has two different answers because my Favorite Character is 100% Gideon Nav, Gideon Nav has my whole heart, and I would go to the ends of the earth for her and then I'd double back to grab her sword because she couldn't carry it AND me. (Okay, yeah. She probably could. Just out of pure stubbornness and dumb focus)

But the character I think about the most is Harrow. Harrow's NOT my favorite character, even though I treasure her SO much. I think I think about her the most because she reminds me a LOT of myself when I was 16, minus the whole "control of the dead" thing. I suffered a pretty severe loss at that time, and it wasn't until YEARS later that I finally was able to acknowledge why the loss had hit me as hard as it did, and there is something about her journey through grieving Gideon without knowing WHY she's grieving Gideon that picks apart my brain and heart like only a necromancer could.

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped)

NOODLE THE DOG.

NOODLE.

THE.

DOG.

I am obsessed with Noodle. I know exactly two things about him. I know his name, and that he has six legs. Literally don't need any other information to know that I need to SQUISH him until I stopped breathing.

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave)

I think Abigail Pent is my underrated fave? Like, I loved her almost immediately in Gideon the Ninth. On my first read I loved how chill she was, and on the first reread I just completed I loved (even if it meant she and Magnus DIED) that Cytherea 100% saw her as the biggest and most immediate threat in Canaan House. I don't know, I think I'm compelled by her being underrated as a powerful being in her own narrative, and the one moment she's taken seriously by an enemy, it's a fight to the death for her.

Also I just know she'd go apeshit for my ghost tour, and I have to stan an imaginary excellent tour guest 😂

(was VERY happy when she popped up in Harrow. Loved that journey for me)

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week)

I mean, we have yet to have actually met Alecto, and I am already feral for her. I was back late from a break at work today because I was obsessively pouring over stories about the Furies to get a vibe for just how amazingly batshit she's gonna be. I CAN'T WAIT. (In which Harrow and me are also alike 😂😂)

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave)

Augustine is probably my most problematic fave. Since the Lyctors and Jod are immortal war criminals, they're very much Not Great Guys, but I'm very much a fan of how Augustine reminds me of a camp counselor that probably should have been fired three summers ago because he thinks it's totally fine to let the 13 year olds drive the camp jeep, he's got a long-standing feud with the counselor who Takes Her Job Way Too Seriously, and he throws a party that borders on illegal with how much fun it is at the end of each summer. I'd probably hate him in real life, but in a story, he's my fave.

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason)

Crux. Stick the crusty asshat in the plinko, let him get a taste of his own medicine.

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)

I want to say John Gaius for this, but I'm much more looking forward to holding Alecto's chains while she does the honors.

#the locked tomb #fandom meme #I HAD TO DO SOME THINK-ING ON THIS #EVEN AN ASK MEME ABOUT THIS GD SERIES HAS ME TWISTED UP INTO FIVE DIFFERENT EMOTIONS ALL AT THE SAME TIME

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supermarvelgirl15 · 3 years

Text

Delicate Type of Beauty- Chapter 1: New Neighbor

Summary: You hated moving, but luckily you had a helping hand. Bucky just wants to go home.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes × f!oc-insert

Word Count: 1,440

Warnings: A few curses, mentions of death

A/N: I know, I know. Another series. Don't worry, I'm still working on Home! I just been in a Bucky craze lately hehe. There's gonna be oneshots with these two and when the TFATWS comes to an end, I'll write into those episodes. Anyways, enjoy! Tags are open for this series/oneshots!

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

××××××

“James, did you hear me?”

Bucky’s eyes snap back from the window, landing back on the cold orbs of his therapist. For someone that was supposed to be welcoming, she tended to come off as unreceptive. Then again, she did have to put up with his bullshit.

Doctor Raynor crossed one leg over the other, her pen tapping the dreaded notebook. He knew it was just an inanimate object, but it was too passive aggressive for his liking. Or maybe it just reminded him of that red book with that grating star.

“Did you make any progress with your amends?” Raynor repeated her apparent earlier question, locking her eyes with his own.

He’s been looking into a couple of politicians that he had helped gain their positions, ones that still held their place in office even after Hydra collapsed. They were terrible people that needed to be stopped before they harmed anyone else. All he needed was some evidence that would be enough to convict them, since he had to follow “the three rules” set by his therapist.

“No.”

Raynor let out a small sigh at his dry response. It was hard to get more than three words out of him at times, but she had come to not expect anything else. If he wanted to open up some more, he would. Today just wasn’t one of those days.

She opened her mouth to comment but was interrupted by the timer going off, signalling the end of the day’s session. Bucky got up and started out the door before she had the opportunity to add anything else. He’s come to learn that if he doesn’t leave immediately, Raynor would definitely keep him there longer than an hour.

All Bucky wanted to do now was to grab a bite to eat and get back home. He’d usually meet up with Yuri afterwards, but the old man-- that was still younger than him-- already had plans for the afternoon.

Yuri Nakujima was also someone that he needed to make amends to, but he wasn’t going to let himself think about that right now. Right now, he just needed a damn burger.

You hated moving, you decided.

If someone ever heard those words leave your mouth though, they would have probably called you a hypocrite. You would have gladly informed them that moving across the world with a SEAL team was extremely different than moving across the state.

At least with a SEAL team, you were with people that you knew and loved as you bounced from an unfamiliar place to another, with the promise of returning home to see your family after the operation was over. Moving from Syracuse to Brooklyn alone wasn’t really ideal, but it was the only way.

You had been one of the half billion people that vanished during the Blip, waking up one day to find out that five years had apparently passed. You came back only to find out that the United States government had disbanded your squad. The only thing the government did for you was give their thanks and sent you into early retirement, made, no, threatened you to keep your mouth shut about the highly confidential operations that you and your squad worked throughout the years. But that wasn’t the worst part.

Before the Blip, the only family you had were your mother and your younger brother Colton. They still lived in your hometown while you were off working. Your mother and Colton were the only people that kept you grounded when you came home for a few weeks at a time, helping you hold yourself together when you thought you were going to fall to pieces.

When you came back, not only was the only job you’ve known stripped away from you, so was your family. Your mother had passed away a couple years after you vanished, and a couple years after her passing, Colton went missing, apparently without a trace. And no one looked for him. Everyone told you that they couldn’t look for someone that had been missing for over a year, that you needed to accept the possibility that he was no longer alive.

So, your taking matters into your own hands.

Brooklyn was the last place where Colton had been seen, why he was there, you hadn’t the slightest idea. You found his abandoned car at one of the docks with no indication of where he was heading. It was apparent that he had some kind of business in Brooklyn, so that’s where you were going to set up camp. He wasn’t the first person you had little to nothing to use to track him down.

You set a box down on the floor of your new apartment, cringing slightly at the emptiness of the room. Maybe a couch would make it feel more homey instead of a camp out. A sigh left your lips as you walked back out the room, jogging down the stairs to retrieve the last of your belongings.

Bucky had his gloved hands stuffed in his jacket’s pockets as he moseyed his way up the stairs of his apartment building. He didn’t exactly have any plans for the rest of the day, but he just wanted to spend it at home. Maybe he would get around to reading that book the waitress at that restaurant he and Yuri frequented recommended.

Upon reaching the door of his apartment, his hand reached into his back pocket to grab his keys, freezing when he noticed the door across the hall was open. Bucky looked down both ends of the hallway before inching closer to the opened door. He didn’t recall that room being vacant, so it was a bit strange.

Bucky double checked his surroundings once again before he proceeded to open the door some more. Peering inside, he saw almost the same layout of his own apartment with a few boxes littering the floor. Who exactly was moving in across from him?

His silent question was answered when he heard a string of curses coming from the flight of stairs. He watched as you came into his view, struggling to balance three boxes, one of them falling out of your grasp, which pulled another curse out of your mouth. He hadn’t heard anyone curse so much since he was on the battlefield during the war, let alone from a woman.

After a few moments of seeing you continuing to struggle to retrieve the fallen box, he made his way over to you, picking it up off the ground. “I got it,” he alerted you as he held it in front of him.

“Oh, thank you,” you thanked him, looking over the other two boxes to see your savior. Bucky noted how your eyes briefly glossed over with recognition and how your smile faltered for a second. You know him.

You moved around him to get to your apartment, kicking the door open more with your foot. “You can just set it in here,” you called back to him over your shoulder. Bucky nodded as he followed you into your apartment, setting the box down where you directed him to.

You wiped your hands on your pants after you set down your own boxes, turning back to face the man before you. “Thanks again. It was really a pain in my ass,” you offered him a small smile as you placed your hands in your back pockets.

Bucky offered you his own smile, his less warmly than yours had been. “No problem,” he replied shortly, stepping backwards out of your apartment, turning with a final nod to you before reaching for his keys once again.

You quickly stepped out after him, sticking your hand out towards him. “I’m Kris, by the way. I guess we’re neighbors,” you mentally face palmed at the awkward greeting that just left your mouth.

Bucky glanced down at your outstretched hand, hesitating a moment before shaking it. “I guess so. I’m…”

“James Barnes. I, uh, know,” you finished for him, closing your eyes tightly immediately afterwards. “I’m so sorry, it just came out. Now I made things weird,” you apologized, opening your eyes to look back at him.

Bucky chuckled dryly, unlocking his door behind him. “It’s fine. Hope you like it here,” he said with another tight lipped smile before slipping into his apartment.

You groaned internally as you walked back into your own apartment, locking the door behind you. After all the training you’ve been through, nothing would have prepared you for anything like this.

For being literal neighbors with the Winter Soldier. One of your squad’s old targets.

××××××

Tags are open!

#DToB #marvel #marvel imagines #bucky barnes × reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #winter soldier #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #sebastian stan #kay writes

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omniscientoranges · 3 years

Text

Hold My Hand On the Way Out

Idea's been done to death but I'm thinking,,, thinking,,, Dean goes to save Cas from the Empty but Cas doesn't think he's real at first. Yeah. That's what I'm thinking.

1.5k words

[ao3]

Dean trips slightly on the way out of the portal. That's probably because Sam sighed and pushed him in when he turned back and started to say something like you know, maybe I'm not the best guy for the job? Maybe you should go or Jack cou-. Dean doesn't blame him for that, really. He knows he was being overdramatic, but it's not every day a guy hurls himself into an endless void to save his currently dead best friend (who might also be the love of his life but, one thing at a time).

It looks like he's standing on a whole lot of nothing, which gives him vertigo for a second before he remembers that nothing is really the whole point of this place. Still doesn't make him any less queasy, though.

"Cas?" Dean shouts into the void. Which is ridiculous, shouting into a literal limitless nothing and hoping Cas hears him. But it's the only play he's got, so: "Cas! You out there? Come on, man, I'm praying, okay? Cas!"

"Dean?"

Dean spins on his heels and breathes a sigh of relief when his eyes fall on Cas, standing like a monolith against the stark black Empty surrounding them. That worked way faster than he expected it to.

"Shit, hey, there you are. Look, I'm here to-"

"Stop it." Cas responds. And he actually looks- scared? Angry? Upset?

"What?"

"Stop doing this to me. I know he's not real, I know you're not real. Stop toying with me like this. You said I could rest, this is cruel, even for you."

Even for you, what is Cas talking about? Sure, yeah, Dean can be a dick, but he's not that big of a dick. Is he? "What? Cas I-"

"Stop, please just- just leave me alone." Cas all but whimpers saying that, and that's when it clicks in Dean's head. He thinks he's the Empty. Or some manifestation of it. He thinks Dean's not real. Jesus, what has this place been doing to him?

"No, it's me. Cas, it's me, really."

"I know you're lying."

"I'm not lying I-" Dean turns and scrubs a hand down his face, "What can I do to make you believe me?"

Cas just shakes his head and closes his eyes, looking away with pain etched on his face.

"Cas, look at me please," he doesn't know why, but Cas looks up. "It's me. I promise."

But Dean's looking at Cas and Cas doesn't see him. Just looks right past him. No, not quite past him - just looks at him like he's not him. Like he's a fake. A ghost.

It sucks. Fully, fully sucks. Dean didn't realize that there was this pit in his chest that only felt whole whenever Cas was looking at him, but he really gets that now. And Dean's heart beats a hard rhythm against that pit and it makes his breath come out stilted, makes it hardly come out at all. He wants to sob, or scream, or hit something or get hit. He feels likes everything's closing in around him and he never realized how it could feel to have everything you could ever want standing right in front of you only for it to look back at you like you aren't anything, like you aren't fucking real and it's- it's- it's-

"I love you."

Dean says it softly, reverently. In a way that doesn't convey that it feels like the words tear out of him, rip from his throat- rip from his heart. Because that's what Cas is to him now. He's his heart.

"And I- I always did, always have. Don't you know that? But no, you didn't know. That's the whole point. You didn't know, but, Cas, I've been yours the whole time. You've had me the whole time. And I can't believe you didn't know that. I can't believe I never had the guts to tell you before. But-" And Dean's pacing, he's determined to lay it all out because he needs Cas to know this time. He needs him to really understand. Needs him. Fullstop, if he's being honest. And, right now, he is.

"It's you. Always. You're it for me. No one else, Cas, no one. I need you. I love you, do you hear me?" Dean's stepping into Cas' space, bringing both his hands up to either side of his face, like if he holds him there and makes him look and really listen that he'll hear it. That he'll understand it. That Dean’s right here and that he was always worth it, to Dean he was always worth it.

"I love you, you stupid son of a bitch, I love you." Maybe he can fix it if he says it enough, says those three words enough, repeats them like a mantra, like a fucking heartbeat in his head. I love you I love you I love you. Dean's pretty sure he's said I love you more times in the last 2 minutes than he's said it in the rest of his whole life combined.

Cas is still looking past him, hopeless. So, once more with feeling. "Cas, Castiel, please listen to me. I love you too."

Dean leans in and seals his lips over Cas'.

Cas doesn't move to kiss back, and Dean almost cries out with the sharp wave of pain that sends through him. Please, please, this has to be enough. It's all I have. This has to be enough. Please.

With a jolt, Dean feels Cas' hand tentatively brush his elbow, then reach up, up, and fit perfectly onto his left shoulder. And that's it. Cas moves his other arm and wraps it behind Dean's neck, pulling him in closer, kissing him deeper. One of Dean's hands trails from Cas' face and curls into the lapel of his too-heavy trench coat.

When they pull apart it's not because they need to breathe, it's because they feel like if they kiss any more they'll shatter under the weight of it. This thing- this love that's been between them for so long finally coming to the surface. It's entirely too much. It's entirely not enough. Dean unfists Cas' coat and smooths out the wrinkles, Cas lets the arm wrapped behind Dean's head fall and slip around his waist instead.

"It's really you?"

"'Course it is, you expecting someone else?"

"Dean," Cas breathes out. And that's a sentence in and of itself - just Dean. The way Cas says it like a prayer, like a promise, like a goddamn benediction. Like Dean's the holy one in this equation. Dean's hit with the realization that there's nothing different in the way Cas said his name just then compared to any time before that - that he's always been Dean. That he's always been loved.

Somewhere caught up in an epiphany and half Dean finds a second to register they should probably - very quickly - get the hell out of there.

Dean slides his palm from Cas' cheek, down his arm, and twines their fingers together. "Cas, come on, we gotta go," and nods his head at the flickering yellow line of a portal a few paces behind him.

Cas trains his eyes on the portal, and looks a bit skeptical. "Are you sure it'll work?"

"If it doesn't then I'll keep coming back here until it does work, or until the Empty gets so sick of me that it either kills me or tosses us both outta here on principle," Dean says. His brazen recklessness has Cas making a face that Dean knows means he's doing everything in his power not to roll his eyes. But it's fond, it's so, so fond, and Dean can't believe he never saw it before. How much Cas truly loves him - loves every stupid, reckless part of him. How much Cas loves all of him.

Dean grins, "Either way, I'm not leaving here without you." And, oh, that's familiar. This is something they've done before, the two of them - pulling each other out of impossible situations. Done it more than once, actually.

"So what, I'm Eurydice and you're Orpheus and we're just supposed to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?" Cas says, trying and failing to hide a smile because not only is he making an accurate pop culture reference but he's also making an accurate Dean reference. Double points.

"Yep, exactly."

"You're insufferable."

"Yeah, but you love me anyway."

Cas' eyes soften, "I really do."

Dean, since apparently he's reverted back to being a 16 year old, blushes at how earnest Cas is when he says that. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come on, let's go."

"Lead the way."

Dean leads, hand reaching back and gripping Cas' so firmly he knows the skin's going paler where their hands link. Maybe it's the mythology reference Cas just made or maybe it's something else, but Dean doesn't let himself look back. They pause for a second when they reach the portal. If there was anyone to pray to Dean would pray with every part of himself that this works. Instead, he just hopes it does.

A step, a bright light, a dimmer light, the sound of shoes hitting reinforced concrete, a portal closing behind him, a hand still- blissfully still in his. Dean turns around.

"I guess it worked," Cas beams.

Dean doesn't stop to think before he's kissing Cas again. Afterall, they've got a lot of time to make up for.

#ugh idk #feeling stuff about them tonight #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel ficlet #deancas ficlet #spn #gina.spn #gina.writing #&fic

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teeztheflag · 4 years

Text

Wolf!Ateez Reaction to mating season with their human!mate who doesn’t know they are werewolves

warnings: strong language, smut, dirty talk, oppa kink, unprotected sex, impregnating, bondage, slight possessive behaviour

a/n: again not linked to the other reactions, some of them are wearing contact lenses to hide their changing orbs so their s/o doesn’t recognize

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ kim hong joong ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

As Hong Joong was a alpha the mating season really had a strong effect on him linked to the goal to bear strong pups for a future leader. You being his human mate and totally unaware of your boyfriend‘s ability to change into a wolf and being more sensitive wondered why he again avoided you this time of the year. It happened the last two years, too. You just thought it was a phase where he had to work a lot and simply didn’t have much time left, also not sleeping at home but in an apartment closer to his work, much to your dismay.

The problem was, extacly in this time you also felt different. You endured much more mood swings and missed him a lot. Also your craving for that one thing put you on edge. As soon as you tried to give Hong Joong the signals that you wanted to become private with him he immediately resisted your flirting and left with the most hilarious excuses.

Since two weeks Hong Joong thought your heat ended by now and decided to settle in with you again. Late night he worked downstairs in his office when he heard your little moanings. Gripping the papers tight his eyes closed without his intention and he felt the growing bulge in his pants that ached painfully against the material.

Fucking shit.

His body moved on his own when he followed the small sinful sounds upstairs to your shared bedroom. A delicious smell filled the corridor and he stopped in front of the door. Meantime you were shamelessly touching yourself totally unaware of the werewolf behind the door that listened to his mate.

„Fffuckkk, ngahhh... Jooooong!“

It was just too much for him by now, knuckles going white at how strong his grip was on the door handle. He literally threw the door open with so much force that had you jumping up very shocked. Besides the embarrassment of being caught pleasuring yourself something intrigued you definitely more... Hong Joong‘s eyes weren’t their normal color but changed into a deep golden.

„I could only resist this much...“

▂▂▂▂▂▂ park seong hwa ▂▂▂▂▂▂

Seong Hwa has always been a controlled wolf with a high will to protect you at all costs so he also tended to leave you in mating season. It wasn’t a secret that you were probably a little clingy to your tall boyfriend, always happy when he came home or picked you up from somewhere. Your favorite place was in his lap and arms, Seong Hwa would lie if he denied that he didn’t like it, too. Of course you were his little angel and he didn’t want you to be scared of his real nature, well, that’s why he didn’t tell you about it.

Unfortunately mating season was the most painful experience for him within the year, because you being whiny and so desperate cried the whole time he left you alone. He felt bad, his animal instinct telling him he should make you feel better especially because you didn’t know why you felt this way...

It all changed when he he received a call from you that you had hurt yourself and couldn’t move. Seong Hwa immediately panicked at the thought of you being injured and drove to your house as fast as he could.

„Y/N?! Where are you, angel?!“ He searched every room for your form but when he opened the door to your bedroom he knew you tricked him.

„Oppa, I missed you...“ There you were placed on your knees on the fluffy blankets a pink lace lingerie decorating your curves and inviting Seong Hwa to just take you here and now.

„Y/N...“ Oh no, he felt his wolf urging him to do something and closed his eyes to concentrate on anything other than your sweet arousal that was dripping down your thighs. How desperate have you been to be this wet already? He’s such a bad mate...

„Pl - please, I am begging you! Take care of me... I miss you so much and my body is burning it - it‘s almost painful!“

You started sobbing in front of him, this definitely was enough. He took a hold of himself and emerged your form with confident steps.

„I am so sorry, angel... Oppa is never going to leave you like this anymore.“

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ jeong yun ho ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

Yun Ho usually was a very happy and positive person in every matters and when it came to your heat he really had his fun. Usually he tried to wear contact lenses in your presence and preferred to only pleasure you the whole season. This way he wasn’t able to lose control so easily because when you were satisfied in your needs his urge to let his wolf take control faltered.

Again this time he didn’t have problems with hiding his secret by to eating you out on the kitchen table when in real you just wanted to prepare the breakfast together. What he definitely didn’t plan were your next words.

„Yun Ho! Oh my gosh, y - you are sooo good in this! Ahhh...“

Of course he was, everytime he used the opportunity to try out new techniques and he enjoyed it maybe a little bit too much waiting for your reactions because of flicking his tongue in another way. And you tasted so good, the best dish for a good morning. Your needy moans and flinches only pushed him further to do his best and let him enjoyingly hum at your sensitive bud.

It was expected that the oral sensation you were receiving couldn’t date you forever... so after feeling your third orgasm coming through you knew something more had to be done.

„Yun Ho, I - I want you...“ His eyes widened at your unsteady statement and he pulled away from your entrance licking his lips off your digits in the process. He looked to the ground an debated.

Come on... only this time! Look at our beautiful girl! She needs our dick!

Stupid wolf, but maybe now the right time was?

„Yun Ho! Please, do something!“

„Shhh, Y/N. You really want this, huh?“ You nodded dizzily at him still feeling the sparklings of your orgsam.

„Huh, then use your words and I will give you everything you want!“

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ song min gi ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

To be honest, Min Gi became exceptionally frustrated at mating season. It wasn’t easy for him to refrain his outgoing mate, because you indeed had to endure heat pulsings that were enormous. He already asked his friends about their human mates and how they coped with the situation. But he knew you weren’t like the other girls and needed a special treatment.

To say it bluntly, you became a brat during mating season and Min Gi was clearly sick of holding back to fuck some sense into you. Eventually his wolf was exhausted after some time and Min Gi had to bondage you to the bed because you just didn’t stop grabbing his cock and kissing his neck.

„Why are you like this?! What man let’s his girl hang on when she’s needy? Since three weeks you’re avoiding me! Now let me free and I will just find a guy in a bar tonight!“

Another man touching his mate? How delusional of her. Of course you didn’t really meant it but mates could be easily triggered also if you were human. Your sexual frustration made it to a point where touching yourself wouldn’t help anymore.

„Say that again.“ Min Gi leaned over your sweaty form on the bed and heavy breaths left his mouth. You could swear you saw a slight growth of his teeth but pushed away the thought immediately when he screamed at you.

„SAY THAT AGAIN!“

„Min - I didn’t mean to - “

„Little brat! It’s time to punish you for being so disrespectful!“

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ kang yeo sang ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

Yeo Sang was quite shocked his mate turned out to be human knowing exactly what that meant for his primal instincts. He didn’t know how the first season with you would turn out but he didn’t want to hurt you at all costs. Wolves could be quite violent during sex and especially their heat with their partners so he sticked to getting out of your sight everytime he could make out the gorgeous scent of your body like some of the others did with their own human mates. Usually Yeo Sang managed to skillfully change into his wolf and run back to his pack where he would be safe from your eyes. You on the other hand found yourself often searching the house for your missing boyfriend sometimes only finding a quick note from him.

Today you already awakened with sticky clothes to your body exactly knowing it was this strange time of the season again. It happened regularly throughout the year you thought Yeo Sang looked especially cute or even hot, only a little eye blink with his beautiful lashes letting a chill run down your spine.

Watching him deliciously eating his pasta you couldn’t stop thinking about how his lips would feel on your body but you knew he acted different this morning, too, meaning nothing good for your desires...

You carefully stood up pretending to get something from the kitchen when you made a swift move and landed on his lap. He layed down his fork and looked at the wall ignoring you hard.

„Sangie...“

„I am not in the mood.“

He pushed you off and ran to the bathroom and closed the door. You followed him slightly pissed and banged against the door yelling his name and asking what the fuck was wrong with him again. You heard some shuffling and then nothing?

„Yeo Sang? What’s wrong?“ You could’ve swear the window was open so you speeded outside to look for yourself and indeed it was. Your anger raised and so your heat. Something nudged against your leg und you tripped over and screamed fully at the large creature over your form.

„Oh my god! Please don’t eat me!“ You shielded yourself on the ground with your arms in front of you and just hoped it would leave you by. But instead it neared you and whimpered a little bit. You peeked our of your arms and gasped.

„Huh? A wolf?“ Yeo Sang couldn’t just run away when he smelled your heat in the forest and knew it became stronger by making you angry. In this form his wolf had a stronger will and his sense just doubled themselves making it unable to ignore your sweet fragrance and aura.

The bond pushed you to the wolf although you were totally scared but when you looked into his eyes something seemed familiar...

„S - sangie...?“

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ choi san ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

San didn’t hold back during mating season because your and his cravings for each other were natural for him. The only thing he was afraid of was the fact one day he had to tell you that he was a werewolf, at least when you would bear your first child for him and someday it would change in front of her eyes.

Anytime you got into heat the two of you nearly never left the house jumping on eachother all the time. He honestly tried to give you hints that he wasn’t like you at all. You just thought he was a beast in bed with all the growling and biting in your neck eyes always watery and mind blissful because of the high pleasure he gave you.

„Y/N! Baby, look at me! I want to see your pretty eyes when I am pumping my pups into you!“ Well, you thought he was kinky. Nothing more...

„Y - you’re wearing contacts lenses t - day? Ahh, fuck, San!“

He pounded endlessly into you holding your knees up with his warm hands in a tight grip. Sweat tickled down his forehead and already wettened his hair. He smirked, grunts leaving his parted lips and licking them at the sight of his mate in front of him. She was totally defenseless in his arms just like he wanted it.

Suddenly he stopped and leaned down to catch her questioning eyes with his.

„Look at me, those are not lenses.“

Just when he thought you would get the hint after some time of thinking and hard breathing passed you lifted one eyebrow.

„Oh shut up little delulu - now continue I was so clooooose!“

Maybe not this time, bro...

▂▂▂▂▂▂ jung woo young ▂▂▂▂▂▂

Woo Young loved your behavior in heat and so did his wolf. You often wear the most sinful lingerie for him and acted like a needy cat for your mate. He didn’t need to smell or feel your changing in demeanor to know mating season began and it definitely was the best time of the year for him. But you, too, didn’t know your boyfriend was unhuman, and he liked to keep it like that. He didn’t really was afraid you would find out but he put so much effort into the relationship to not let you find out about the destined pull it could destroy a lot.

As Woo Young was a quite sneaky and playful boy he found a good solution to let his wolf take control during the sex and to hide his secret. You just thought he had a really dominant phase once or twice a year and already looked forward when the play time came by again.

His best strategy to fuck you at night: turn the lights out and have you screaming his name until you didn’t thought about the marks all over you body the next day again, or at day time: his favorite thing to cuff your wrists and put on a blindfold.

You were to distracted by his sinful touches and praises to think about the fact this felt like a fifty shades scenario and you didn’t need to be embarrassed about your and Woo Young‘s kinky behavior because your boyfriend tended to exaggerate things more like you.

This one night you could remember he seemed to have put on orange looking contact lenses and pretended to be a ‚werewolf‘, it seemed like he put much effort into the costume as he really had something animalistic back then.

„My mate...“

„Oh god, fuck right there Woo Young! Deeper!“

„Tell me you’re mine!“

„I - I am yours Woo! Only yours, forever!“

You screamed out his name multiple times as he skillfully reached and penetrated the sweet spot deep inside you already poking against your womb. Woo Young could only chuckle at your naivety but also was thankful for it. Like this, he could keep his act on a long time without having to miss any little thing of a good mating season.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ choi jong ho ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

It wasn’t surprising Jong Ho received a quite intelligent mate from the moon goddess and he had to admit he enjoyed watching you trying to figure out his unnatural strength and senses also like your own feelings.

It started with telling him you felt a much deeper love like for him like you ever did for your ex-boyfriends before and that she knew he was someone really special for her. The wolve‘s heart swelled at your words and confession but also he felt a little bad for not telling you the truth.

In private he called you his ‚soulmate‘ which you found utterly cute but Jong Ho knew it meant so much more. He wanted to help you to find out for yourself what he was and why you felt so different at mating season living through the most embarrassing cravings that you tried to hide from him.

He didn’t think it would be so hot to see you struggling because of his presence and he was just too good in hiding his own desire from you making everything really hard.

When you sat inside the big library of his and his friend‘s mansion you came across a book about mystic creatures. You blushed at the next words not daring to read any further when suddenly the door sprung open.

Jong Ho smelled your arousal outside in the garden and couldn’t resist to look after what caused your sudden hotness. He stood behind you and read the sinful things you just read on his own. He made a move to put you on his lap and stroked your hair with comforting motions.

„Why don’t you read it out loud?“ You shivered at his husky voice and wished you could get out of this situation.

„Th - the mating season makes both male and female mate craving and earning for the sexual release through their partners and...“

„And?“

„Jong Ho... this cannot be real right?“

A moan left your lips when he pressed a light kiss on your shaking lips and his eyes turned into a rich golden color.

#ateez wolf #ateez smut #ateez au #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez wolf au #ateez smut au #ateez mate #ateez mate au #ateez bond #ateez werewolf #ateez werewolf au #ateez reaction

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five-hxrgreeves · 3 years

Text

I Won’t Back Down - Five Hargreeves x OC

Word Count: 3,467

Oh, we've got to hold on, ready or not You live for the fight when it's all that you've got Woah, we're half way there Woah, livin' on a prayer Take my hand, we'll make it I swear

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Pt. 5- The Road to Hell...

Five Hargreeves has never claimed to be a people person. Even growing up surrounded by six other kids, he preferred to lock himself in his room and work on equations than actually interact with them aside from what was mandatory. That didn’t mean he didn’t care for them- because he did, at least where Six and Seven were concerned- he just liked his space and it was in this space that he discovered his potential for time travel.

When he’d first broached the subject with his father he’d been promptly shut down leading to one of their many quarrels and another punishment. That was not enough- never enough- to deter him from pursuing something on his own, though. He was smart enough to figure it out without help. The boy also made sure word of it never got out to his siblings; most wouldn’t care and think that he was just rubbing it in like the cocky way he usually did but Six would give him worried, warning glances and Seven would try to talk him out of it in her own shy, quiet way.

It was best to keep this to himself.

He’d been practicing his special jumps for years now and had advanced in leaps and bounds- literally. While he was still limited to short distances he could do more at once than he ever had before and they were pin-point accurate (he could actually land on the head of a pin if he felt like doing something so ridiculous. He didn’t.) Time travel was just another aspect of his powers, as linear as his jumps were and as straight forward as any equation usually was for him. He’d done the math and it was ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent possible that he would be successful; the point-oh-one was an unnecessary margin of error that he allowed himself just in case. Every mathematician had their occasional inaccuracies.

Five had made sure to repeat the equations over and over, too, to double and triple check his work. Now, he felt ready to present the subject again and have evidence that it could be done. Distantly, he heard the robotic woman they called mother ring the bell, a tradition that signaled their meal was ready. Setting down his chalk, the boy left the room and met his siblings at the stairs, completely silent apart from their footsteps approaching the table. The recording their father liked to listen to, Herr Carlson, was already playing as they stood by their seats waiting for the man himself to arrive.

They sat in number order beginning with Reginald’s seat, with Number One being on the left, Two on the right and so on until the last three; Five was on the left, Six was across from him and Seven at the head.

“Sit!” their father barked and the children followed the command without delay, pulling out their chairs almost in sync as they sat down.

Now that the speaking part of the meal was over, they turned their attention to the various tasks that they did at the table while eating, the recording continuously playing over the sounds of their activities. Five clenched his teeth slightly at the irritating repetitiveness of it all and stared down the table at the man he called his father, watching him take a drink from his cup.

Knowing he wouldn’t get the man’s attention if he tried talking, the boy gripped the handle of his knife and stabbed it directly into the table.

“Number Five?”

“I have a question,” he said coolly.

“Knowledge is an admirable goal, but you know the rules. No talking during meal times,” Reginald answered, not even sparing a glance up from his plate, “you are interrupting Herr Carlson.”

Irritation prickled along his spine and the boy dropped the utensil roughly against his plate, “I want to time travel.”

“No.”

“But I’m ready,” he responded flatly, “I’ve been practicing my special jumps, just like you said,” he stood and demonstrated, feeling a flicker of pride when he landed right by the man’s elbow.

“See?”

“A special jump is trivial compared to the unknowns of time travel,” he answered, not deigning to look at him, “one is like sliding along the ice, the other is akin to descending blindly into the depths of the freezing water and reappearing as an acorn.”

Five forced himself not to snarl at his father’s terrible explanation. He really hated riddles. Instead, he let out a sharp breath, “well, I don’t get it.”

“Hence the reason you’re not ready,” the man said, as if that was all the answer that was needed. He took another sip from his glass.

Five accidentally looked down the table to where Six and Seven sat, knowing that this would be a surprise to them. He rolled his eyes internally at Seven’s predictable reaction as she shook her head at him, looking slightly fearful. He turned back to his father, “I’m not afraid.”

“Fear isn’t the issue. The effects it might have on your body, even on your mind are far too unpredictable,” he threw his own utensils down and finally looked at the boy, “now, I forbid you to talk about this anymore.”

The boy’s lips curled into a sneer at the thought of someone trying to control his powers when who knew them better than him? Reginald may be their mentor but what did he know about the extent of their abilities? He turned on his heel and stalked away, ignoring his father’s shouts. He picked up speed as he left the dining room, running, running, running out the door, on to the street.

The fresh air hit his face, spurring him on after the drafty, stale air of the place he called home. Preparing himself for the first jump, he mentally checked his calculations and tore a hole through time.

Around him, the scene changed. The darkness of the evening was replaced by bright sunlight showing a warm, sunny spring. He scoffed, “not ready my ass.”

Fueled by his success, he jumped again, his heart leaping as the scene changed to winter, the previously open buildings changing as they lost business. Adrenaline pumped through him and he wondered exactly how far into the future he could go. What would he see? Predictions from Six’s science fiction books were unlikely but he could still come back and tell his brother all about the future.

He leapt again, blue light shining around him as he created his third portal. The boy suddenly stilled, watching as the familiar sights around him turned to ash and dust, rubble and burning fires stretching as far as the eye could see.

Something akin to terror rose within him. This wasn’t right. How could it be when the world had been so vibrant around him seconds before?

He forced his legs to move, running along the dirt path that stretched on for miles. The sky was a dark, ashy gray that gave away neither time nor date and the falling particles burned his lungs when he breathed causing his breath to shorten rapidly and gasp in his chest.

Five froze outside the familiar building, all grandeur now rubble and fire as he stared up at what was once his home. No. What about his siblings? His family?

“Vanya!” he cried out, forcing himself to be heard over the crackling fire, “Ben! Dad! Anyone!”

No answer came in the nearly silent world despite him looking around wildly for someone, anyone living. He could go back. The answer came to him suddenly on its own accord and hope surged in his chest as he forced his hands into fists, blue shining around them. He pushed against the fabric of time, trying to calculate a way out. Nothing.

“Come on!” he pleaded, he didn’t want to be stuck in this burning hell.

“Shit,” was his next word as his powers failed, sucking away the sudden hope.

His hands dropped and he stared around at the landscape, as desolate as he felt. How was he going to get back? He dropped to his knees in front of the remains of his home- a home that had been whole and filled with life minutes before.

Five wasn’t sure how long it had been when he forced himself to pull away. Night would be coming soon and there were other survival things that needed to be done. How had their father known how to prepare them for this?

The thought crossed his mind as he stood, eyes catching sight of a still-standing newspaper holder. He ran over to it and opened the broken glass front, pulling out one of the papers. April 1, 2019 read the date, the headline was one that would be burned into his memory even after years of living in the apocalypse.

Then, he saw the first bodies lying in the rubble. The hand of a man was sticking out of a pile, clearly clutching at something. Five ran over to it and pried the glass orb out of the stiff, cold fingers. He wiped off the red, wet residue on the face of it, revealing a dark brown iris. It was a glass eye.

Still holding it, he followed the arm to a blonde-haired man with a cut next to his eye. Something niggled at the back of his head but he pushed it away. No, it couldn’t be. His siblings were still alive. Of course they were.

He ran to the next pile where a dark-haired man and dark-skinned woman were covered in rubble- both with their eyes closed and covered thickly in the falling ash. His feet skittered in the loose blocks but he made his way towards them, placing his hands on their shoulders and shaking them roughly. Please, he thought desperately, please be alive. Just be asleep.

It was a foolish, naïve thought but he couldn’t push it away.

Farther on, another man with a fur-trimmed coat was lying facedown in the rubble, eyes closed just like the others. Five’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the damning tattoo on the man’s arm: an umbrella inscribed in a circle. The same one all of the Hargreeves children had, except Seven.

There was too much evidence to deny the terrible conclusion that formed in his mind.

Five forced the prickling tears at the back of his eyes away. He’d never been a crier; Reginald had beat that out of them at an early age. Still, he hadn’t even recognized his siblings until he’d seen the tattoos that bound them together. Then, he’d added rocks on top of their partially-buried bodies as a makeshift grave. That had been when he’d almost cried, when the last possible sighting of his siblings’ faces had finally been covered. They weren’t really his siblings, though, because he didn’t know them in this timeline. He knew their fifteen-year-old versions, back in 2004. This shouldn’t matter to him.

(It did.)

The boy tilted his head up and stared into the dark sky until his eyes burned for a different reason. Water was going to become a precious commodity; he shouldn’t waste what hydration he had on crying.

Again, he pulled himself away, telling himself it was useless to linger over the dead. He couldn’t help those siblings. (But oh, how he wanted to.) They were somebody else’s family. His were still alive in 2004, blissfully unaware of the fate that awaited them. There was still something he could do about that.

Five turned and walked away, steeling himself to face this strange, new hell.

He wasn’t sure what was worse. The dusty, dark days or darker nights. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. There was no sound except for howling wind, the crackling of fire and the creak of the wagon which was piled with necessary items like food cans and a supply of water that he’d found, his best prize.

By now, he’d covered himself entirely to keep the ash from burning his skin, a mask over his face to help his breathing and goggles to protect his eyes. These items were all found by scavenging around the city. He’d left the familiar block of the Academy behind and had begun searching in other buildings. These were more family-styled homes and he occasionally came across the bodies of little kids or parents which caused him to quickly turn away before the little food he’d eaten made its reappearance.

There was still no one who seemed to have escaped whatever disaster had ended the world. He’d been on his own for seemingly days now, not another living soul in sight, just stinking, dead bodies partially or fully covered by rubble. The boy tried not to think about them too much. It wasn’t that they disgusted him- well, the adults didn’t- but living in the world of the dead while he was still living was not a thought that sat comfortably in his mind.

Rubble shifted haphazardly under his hands as he searched for food, the cleared space revealing the short, dark hair of a woman. He moved to another spot immediately, continuing his search. Then, he froze.

Unless his ears were tricking him, there was a tinny bang, bang, bang coming from somewhere. The hits were too evenly spaced to be anything but purposeful. The hope that he’d thought had died suddenly resurged full force and he scrabbled over to the sound, “hello?”

His voice was hoarse and uncomfortably loud. The banging continued, “hello? Is anyone there?” he tried again.

There was no answer except for the continuous hitting sound. He shifted the rubble around on top of where he thought it was coming from until a dark crack appeared between the broken pieces, “hello? Can you hear me?”

The sound was definitely louder now and he made an effort to make the hole bigger, muscles tensing as he prepared for a maybe not-so-friendly encounter. Then, it was large enough to see inside. The pale, dirty face of a girl looked up at him, her eyes squeezed tightly shut against the apparent brightness. How long had she been trapped under there? Days? Weeks? It was clearly awhile from how thin her face looked.

Five wasn’t even sure if she was real and he was just imagining the whole thing. He couldn’t help the disbelief that entered his tone as he asked, “what the hell?”

That wasn’t the best response to seeing the first human- alive- that he’d seen in however much time it had been, but like he’d said, he wasn’t a people-person. The girl didn’t respond, eyes still screwed up in a way that made her face look scrunched.

“Here, grab my hand, I’ll help you up,” that was better, he decided, and extended said hand to the girl.

After realizing she couldn’t see it, he grasped her hand himself and startled at how small and bony it seemed. He pulled her out easily and wasn’t surprised to see that the rest of her matched the gaunt face and frail hand.

“Open your eyes,” he tried, “slowly. How long have you been down there?”

The girl shook her head, most likely answering both questions. He sighed and turned, “hold on a second, I’ll get something to help.”

Five returned to his wagon before she could protest and shifted around in his items, pleased when he found another pair of goggles. Stumbling slightly back to her, he placed them in her hand, “here, they’re not sunglasses but they should be better than nothing.”

He watched as she put them on, struggling slightly with the strap until it was secure. Her face relaxed and her eyes opened cautiously. Five tried not to suck in a startled breath. Her pupils were so large only a thin, blue line could be seen around them. It was kind of creepy if he was being honest. Immediately, she shut her eyes again. He didn’t blame her.

“What’s your name?” the boy tried, never one for small talk but knowing it was important.

The girl opened her mouth to answer but no sound came out. She shook her head.

He let out an irritated huff, “fine, then is this your house?”

She nodded, confirming that yes, it was.

“Are there any supplies in your basement?”

Another nod.

“Is there anything I need to know before going down there?”

Again, she nodded, then paused, seemingly trying to get her words to work. When they didn’t, she made an open-close motion.

“Now isn’t the time for charades.” He wanted to tack on moron or some similar insult but he forced himself not to. She wasn’t one of his siblings.

The girl did the motion again and held her cupped hands up to her face, as if she were reading.

“A book, you want me to get a book,” the disbelief was back.

When she nodded vigorously, he sighed, “fine. Where is it?”

The question made her still, uncertain of how to act out the location. Then, she drew a flat, rectangular shape in the air and two smaller ones on top of it. He really hated riddles.

“I don’t get it,” he grumbled, frustrated, “just tell me they’re easy to find.”

The girl nodded again, “fine,” the boy decided, “I’ll get your stupid books. Wait here.”

The darkness didn’t bother him as he descended into the basement. Reginald would never let his adoptive experiments be afraid of something so silly as pitch-blackness. Then, Five’s foot hit something on the bottom step that almost made him loose his balance, “shit!” he cursed, righting himself.

The boy bent down and felt for the obstacle, startling at the waxy feel of a candle. Well, maybe she’s not a complete moron, he allowed. He felt around for matches and soon a small, golden glow lit up the dark space. He was surprised to find the basement completely intact. Then he immediately wrinkled his nose. It stank like hell.

After several minutes of searching, he found the partitioned food in the back storeroom, the paint cans with broken lids and the tools, which he rooted through to find the most useful ones. He was especially pleased when he found a rope. Then, he turned to make his way back to the surface only to pause at the bottom of the staircase. Her stupid books.

Five remembered seeing a desk at the edge of the circle of light so that’s what he went to find. On the surface sat three books: a used notebook and two published authors. He added those to the steadily-growing pile and clambered out messily, fighting to keep his balance as things spilled out of his hands.

Irritation pricked at him when he saw the girl was still standing, unmoving and eyes closed, right where he’d left her. Scratch that earlier thought, he grumbled, she is a complete moron.

After placing the things in the wagon, he made his way back over to her.

“Here,” he said, stuffing the requested items into her arms.

Her facial muscles twitched into what was probably her first smile in days, a sign of gratitude, he knew. He brushed it off, “you better open your eyes, we’re moving.”

She shook her head and his annoyance grew, “well, I’m not guiding you the whole way. There’s too much searching to be done and night will be here soon. You either open your eyes or I’m leaving you here.”

He wouldn’t, he knew. If she was the last human left alive he didn’t want to lose his only source of humanity.

Luckily, that caused her to open her eyes even as her face screwed up in pain. He pursed his lips in displeasure and studied her outfit, “the mask will help but you have to cover up. The ash burns and I don’t have any way of healing you if you get hurt.”

She seemed to be understanding about that and after some difficult maneuvering- and several close calls where he’d had to catch her- they made it to the wagon where he began handing her the extra clothing he’d found.

Once she was set up appropriately, he picked up the handle of the almost-full wagon. The girl tapped him on the shoulder.

“What?” he asked shortly.

She handed him the spiral-bound notebook, opened to the first page. On it, in slightly loopy, readable handwriting was the opening sentence: My name is Lola Gimbel and I was born August 1, 2004.

#The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #five #five hargreeves #5 #hargreeves #tua five #five hargreeves x dolores #five hargreeves x oc #five hargreeves x reader #Five x oc #five x dolores #five x reader #human dolores #dolores isn't a mannequin #pre-tua #apocalypse

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lovelylogans · 4 years

Text

syzygy

warnings: miscommunication, bed sharing, joking about having anxiety, kissing/romantic content, let me know if i’ve missed anything!

pairings: logan/virgil/patton, analogicality

words: 4838

notes: we’re now allowed to reveal: this is for the secret santa’s over at @sanderssantas! this fic is for @mydarkstrangeson, who requested any combination of patton, logan, and virgil, and childhood sweethearts, college au, and friends to lovers! i have decided to tackle all of them! this was probably overambitious of me, but i loved, loved, LOVED writing this for you, so! happy holidays!

If he were at all inclined toward analogy (he is not) he would compare his relationship with Patton and Virgil to a syzygy.

It’s an astronomical term. From the ancient Greek, suzugos, yoked together. Three or more celestial bodies in a gravitational system. Usually in reference to the sun, earth, and moon, with the latter in conjunction or opposition.

More often than not, they are in conjunction—the same right ascension, the same ecliptic longitude. There is an implication of apparent close approach—their appulse is at its very minimum.

Of course, it is an illusion. They are not actually close to one another, in space. Almost nothing is close to each other, in space. The vastness of space has been confounding humankind for millennia. It will continue to confound.

That is where the analogy falls apart. He’s sure that Patton or Virgil could come up with better ones. But then, he is not inclined toward analogy. It’s simply a thought exercise. Nothing more.

(If he has, perhaps, spent a few moments thinking of Virgil, dark hair glinting silver in the moonlight, and Patton, freckles grown more intense by the sunlight, turning his curls golden, well. That’s simply a thought exercise too. He supposes that would make him the earth—steady, consistent, predictable. Perhaps a bit dull in comparison. Fitting enough.)

There is also the concept that, in the literal sense, they are often close together. They cycle throughout their rooms—usually, they split the time evenly between Patton’s room, as it is cozy and well-decorated and has plenty of alternatives for sitting that aren’t just the ground, and Logan’s room now that it’s winter, as his room is warmest, but less time now in Virgil’s room, as it’s coldest—and, well. They have been friends for as long as Logan can remember.

They’re close together now—Patton’s room, currently, as he has the most alternatives to seating and by far the most traditionally “cozy” environment—Logan’s at the desk, and he hears the clack-clack-clack of Patton’s knitting needles and the occasional huffing exhale that means Virgil’s reading something funny online.

“Logan, the time,” Patton chides softly, and Logan grimaces, only because he’s certain Patton won’t see.

“I’ll stop when I reach a convenient time.”

“You said that an hour ago,” Virgil points out, voice soft, grumbly, a little lazy—he must be tired, he’d been tossing and turning last night.

(It helps Virgil sleep, as he frequently stays up late fretting, and Patton seems to think that holding him down in some way will prevent him staying up late to study. It probably isn’t normal for three roommates to sleep in the same bed more often than not, but, well. The reasoning is sound.)

“You don’t need to stay up for me,” Logan says, turning slightly in his desk chair to see—Virgil’s lying at the foot of Patton’s bed, head resting on one of Patton’s many throw pillows (he’s probably putting some people on Etsy through college with his frequent pun-pillow purchases, it’s only kind of a problem) as Patton leans against the headboard, rainbow titanium knitting needles paused, for a moment. He’s trying for socks. He has never succeeded. They’ll unravel eventually. It does not stop Patton from trying.

“Yeah, we do, you and Virgil need to debate over who gets middle spoon tonight,” Patton says cheerfully.

Patton almost always takes, to use the terminology, the big spoon, despite the fact that he is the shortest. However, he does give the best hugs, which makes up for any height deficiencies. Logan has a variety of data to back up the Patton-gives-the-best-hugs claim. There’s a spreadsheet involved.

However, he and Virgil never quite make up their minds when it comes to who takes middle or littlest spoon, and so—

“You can decide, Virgil,” Logan says mildly, turning back to his desk. “I don’t mind which. I don’t mind you going to sleep before me, either. I can go to my room to work.”

“You’ve been working all day today,” Patton says. “Finals don’t mean that you give up on healthy habits.”

“Uh-oh, he’s got that look on his face,” Virgil says, voice teasing. “He’s gonna start rambling about things that are really, blatantly wrong until you rush up and finish and we all start getting ready for bed.”

“...That doesn’t work on me anymore.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” Virgil says. “Patton, wouldn’t you say that sounds like a challenge?”

“I dunno, it sounds like as much of a challenge as recalculating that gyroscope,” Patton says cheerfully.

Logan pauses, curious, before he realizes that’s exactly what he wants and he forces his eyes to focus back on his laptop screen and resumes typing.

“What gyroscope, Patton?”

“Why, the laser gyroscope those flat-earthers tried to use in an experiment.”

“I know about this already,” Logan says, still refusing to turn, even though his eye is beginning to twitch at the sheer idea of flat-earthers.

"Mhm,” Patton says. “And, I mean, that gyroscope showed that... um, what’s it called?”

“Shift.”

“Flow.”

“Thrust.”

“Course.”

“Transferral.”

“Drift,” Logan bites out. “Gyroscopes show a drift when it leans off-axis.”

“Uh-huh,” Patton says, pleased. “But, I mean. They did it wrong.”

Don’t say a word, don’t say a word, don’t say a word...

“They did that whole light thing, but that proves nothing. I mean, cause, obviously,” Patton says, “They spent about twenty thousand bucks on that gyroscope, but really, all you need to know on how the earth is flat is to just look at the horizon—”

It’s bait. Logan knows it’s bait. And yet—

“The horizon looks flat because the massive size of the Earth necessitates it looks small in proportion to us,” Logan says, striking furiously at his keyboard to finish his sentence and save his word file. “The Earth has an average diameter about eight thousand miles, in an estimate, and we aren’t able to make out the curves because—”

“Got him,” Virgil says, suddenly a lot closer than usual, and double-checking the file is saved before he slams Logan’s laptop shut.

“I wasn’t done with—!”

“Tomorrow is a new day and you can work on it then,” Virgil says, before securing his hands under Logan’s armpits and hauling him to his feet. “C’mon.”

“Bedtime, bedtime, bedtime,” Patton sings, already gathering up his pajamas and dancing his way into his bathroom, closing the door behind him with a click.

Logan looks longingly at his laptop, before he says, “There’s no point in resuming my work, is there?”

“Nope, we’ll just stop you again,” Virgil says. “He watched that flat-earther documentary two days ago, I’m sure he’s got plenty of material to keep this up.”

Logan sighs. He scoops his laptop into his arms, and he goes back to his room. He plugs in his laptop and his phone and gets ready for bed—pajamas, brushed teeth, washed face.

He returns to Patton’s room to see Virgil sitting on Patton’s bed, eyes closed as Patton smears some kind of moisturizing... something-or-other on his face, and Logan feels a slightly worrying swell in his chest region—the only reason it isn’t fully worrying is because it’s been doing that when he sees Patton and Virgil together for years.

“...I mean, you really should hydrate more, that’ll help your skin, and it’s winter so everyone’s getting dry skin, ya know?” Patton says, continuing whatever conversation they’d been having, and then his face brightens at the sight of Logan, making grabby hands. “Logan! C’mere, lemme smear goo on your face, I accidentally squeezed out too much.”

Logan sits on the bed, hands Virgil his glasses, and obligingly closes his eyes. There’s the sound of Virgil setting his glasses on the nightstand, and then Patton’s hands are on his face. The lotion—or goo, Logan supposes—smells pleasantly of chamomile. It’s a little cool, but Patton’s hands warm it up soon enough. Patton rubs the lotion into his face in soft, circular motions, humming softly, and the sensation of it, the comfort of it, would be enough to send Logan to sleep.

“All right, you’re moisturized,” Patton says, and Logan opens his eyes to see Patton smoothing the remnants of the goo into his hands.

“Middle spoon?” Virgil says.

Logan shrugs. “I don’t have a particularly strong opinion either way.”

“Are we doing the spoon thing tonight?” Patton asks. “There’s a lot of other ways to snuggle.”

“I don’t have a particularly strong opinion either way,” Logan repeats.

“Virgil?”

“Nope.”

“Okay!” Patton says brightly, and flops down on his back, lifting up his arms. “Get in here, we haven’t done the whole Human Pillow thing in a minute.”

Patton has a variety of ridiculous terms for their body placements at night. It should not be as endearing as it is.

Logan and Virgil meet eyes, as if to roll them at each other, but they’re really just exchanging an ah, that’s our Patton kind of look, and so Logan settles under the covers before he rolls onto his side, placing his head on Patton’s chest, and Virgil shuts off the light. There’s the adjustment of covers that means that Virgil is settling in a mirror position.

And then—

“I love this,” Patton says happily. “It’s like a sleepover!”

“You say that every night,” Virgil says, like every night.

“And every night it’s true,” Patton says, like every night.

“And every night, we exchange this dialogue,” Logan says, like every night. It’s dark, so no one can see him smiling.

“I mean, we’ve had sleepovers for forever,” Patton says. “Do you remember our first one?”

“Our first one was when we were babies and our moms were all snowed into my house,” Logan says. “According to legend, anyway.”

“Mm, I know,” Patton says. “But, I mean—what’s the first one you remember?”

Logan pauses, considering, before he says, “When you drew on your carpet, with crayon.”

“We were six!”

“The one where we watched Barbie and the Twelve Dancing Princesses like three times,” Virgil says.

“An underrated movie,” Patton says, and then, smugly, “I think mine’s earlier than yours.”

“Well, if I had more time to ponder it—“ Logan begins.

“What’s yours, Patton?” Virgil says, cutting him off.

“Do you remember when we got married?”

"We got married?” Logan says, mind straining.

“We were little,” Patton says. “Really little.”

“...I think I do remember that, actually,” Virgil says, sounding a little stunned. “Yeah. Because I was the one who had to decide what we had to do first that day, I hated it when you guys did that.”

(—Patton and Logan are planning out their day as Virgil sits on the swingset, swinging just a little—not enough that he’s skyborne, just enough so that when he swings, the pole moves from blocking Logan’s face to blocking Patton’s face, so he can only see one of them at a time.

“It’d be fun!” Patton.

“It’s non-sense-i-cal.” Logan.

“It’s pretend, it doesn’t hafta make sense.” Patton.

“Have to,” Logan, “And it wouldn’t even take that long anyway.”

“So we could do it first!” Patton. “And then we could do what you and Virgil wanna do.”

Logan. Patton. Logan. Patton.

“Virgil?” Logan. Virgil drags his heels in the dirt, so that he stops. The pole’s splitting them now—Patton to the right, Logan to the left, both looking at him expectedly.

Virgil chews his lip. This happens a lot, since he’s the quiet one—he ends up being the one who has to make the decisions. Virgil always feels his stomach twist whenever he has to, because what if he chooses wrong? What if they get mad at him because he’s made the worst choice ever and they stop being friends with him?

Virgil swallows, and says, “What’re the choices?”

“Oh, we’re gonna get married,” Patton says cheerfully.

“There’s three of us, we can’t get married,” Logan says pointedly.

“Which’s why it’s pretend,” Patton says. “I went to my cousin’s wedding last weekend and the ceremony was kinda boring but the after part was really fun ‘cause everyone was dancing and we got to eat really tasty food and there was CAKE and I got to eat three slices and so I wanna get married now—!”)

“...I think I do remember that, actually,” Logan says.

“Mm,” Virgil says. “You’re oldest, your memory’s going faster than ours.”

“My memory is impeccable,” Logan says. "I even remember the flowers Patton had in his bouquet, can you?”

“That’s not fair, you know a ton of scientific flower names,” Virgil says. “That was also, like, the main draw of you participating in the wedding, the fact that you got to talk about a ton of flowers.”

“It was a pretty bouquet,” Patton says.

“Oxeye daisies, and black-eyed Susans, and honeysuckle, and chicory, and scorpion grass, aaaaand.... lilac, stolen from Mrs. Mariano’s tree.”

“Oh, she would have killed us if we’d been caught, you remember how protective she was over those?” Virgil says. “I can’t believe you talked me into that.”

“We were, like, four,” Patton says. “Or maybe five.”

“I was born with a strong, inherent sense of fear, age knows no bounds when it comes to debilitating anxiety,” Virgil says.

Both Logan and Patton hesitate, for a moment—Virgil joking about his anxiety could sometimes also be a clouded request for help, and it usually took Patton deducing tone and then informing Logan that the tone meant it was a request for help.

However, Patton continues, voice light, “Yeah, but we were young enough then that Logan could corrupt us both, as his extra two months of life—or one month, when it comes to me—was still a major implement in him corrupting us, don’tcha know?”

“Yeah, let’s blame it all on Logan,” Virgil says.

“Yes, that’s the logical course of action,” Logan says. “I’ll remember that the next time you need help on your science assignments.”

“Oh, come on! What’s yours is mine, and that includes your knowledge! Does our marriage mean nothing to you?” Patton teases, and there’s a jump in Logan’s chest. Our marriage. Their relationship has been going slowly enough—of course, Virgil’s anxiety is a factor, and Patton is of course willing to accommodate, because he’s kind like that, and Logan’s mostly following their lead—but, well... perhaps this marriage has been brought up for a reason. That’s something people do in relationships, bring up meaningful milestones either shared by other people or related memories. Perhaps this signifies a forward progression.

Logan enjoys their relationship as is. Patton is open with physical expression like snuggling and cuddling and holding hands, and he gives them both kisses on the cheek every night before they actually sleep. Granted, Virgil is less inclined to physical affection, but he leans against Logan frequently and he expresses his affection in other ways; every playlist on his phone is curated by Virgil, and Virgil always makes his coffee in the morning exactly as he likes it, and new articles about scientific innovations pop up on his phone with some innocuous questions from Virgil that provoke explanations from Logan that Virgil always sits and listens to with an indulgent smile, even if Logan knows that Virgil doesn’t particularly care about quantum jitter or microsatellites or scientists’ brain shrinkage after an extended stay in Antarctica. He just does it so that Logan gets excited and that he will talk about it. They are remarkably good partners. He’d say boyfriends, but they haven’t had that discussion and he doesn’t want to presume.

But, well... perhaps a traditional kiss would be... nice.

“I hardly think our wedding at five, which we primarily had so you could dance and we could split the ding-dongs your mom packed you, was legally binding,” Logan says instead.

“Ah, but it was emotionally binding,” Patton says, and Logan makes a sound of distaste.

“You loooove us,” Patton teases.

“Ugh.”

“Virgil, you looooove us too.”

“Ugh.”

“Hopeless, the pair of you,” Patton says.

“You have enough love for the pair of us,” Virgil says. “Without you, this marriage would be purely loveless.”

“I feel like I remember in someone’s vows that we promised to be best friends forever,” Patton teases.

(“—Okay,” Patton says, when they’ve all tramped back to the swingset in Logan’s backyard. “Now we gotta get married.”

“How do we do that?” Virgil says. “We say I do, right, is that it?”

“No!” Patton says and bounces on his toes. “They say these things called vows and people can write their own and a vow is like a promise, so we can just say things that we’ll all do for each other anyway and that way it’ll all be true.”

“Even though we aren’t actually getting married,” Logan says.

“Even though we aren’t actually getting married,” Patton agrees. “Okay, um—” He bites his lip for a second, before holding the bouquet between his arm and his chest, so he can take Logan and Virgil by the hands, so they’re all standing in a circle.

“You two gotta hold hands too,” he adds, and Logan takes Virgil’s hand. Patton’s hand is warm, and Logan’s is a little cool. Virgil hopes his hands aren’t sweaty or anything, ‘cause that’d be pretty gross.

“Okay,” Patton says. “Who wants to go first?”

There’s a pause, before Logan sighs and says, “I will, I suppose.”

Logan’s oldest, so Virgil guesses that makes sense. He usually goes first for a lot of things, which means Virgil will go next.

Logan pauses for a few seconds to think, before he squeezes their hands, takes a breath, and speaks.

“I promise to be best friends with you two for forever, even as we get older and real-is-tic-ally make other friends. I promise to at least try playing games that you suggest, even if I don’t like them very much, because you always play the games that I suggest too. I promise teach you everything I know as long as you teach me everything you know, so that between the three of us we know everything that we could know. And,” he adds, “I promise that I will always read to you when you ask me to, even if the books say things that don’t make sense like in that one story about the rabbit and the bear who keep saying they’re the best of beasts and that they can hear and smell all kinds of things and the worm who tells them both to shut up, because none of that can happen since animals cannot talk and—”

“Wedding, L,” Patton chides gently.

“Oh,” Logan says, looking a little embarrassed. “Right. Anyway. I promise to read with you and tell you stories about the stars when we don’t have any books.”

“We’re supposed to say I do,” Patton says brightly, and Virgil mumbles it to his feet at the same time Patton says it.

“Um,” Virgil says, and scuffs his shoe along the dirt. Because Logan’s vows were pretty good and Logan has lots to offer, as a husband, so what can Virgil even say? It’s not like he’s the best reader in the grade who seems like he knows everything. It’s not like he’s the nicest person in the grade, who always helps whenever someone drops anything or gets a scraped knee or gets overwhelmed and seems to always, magically, know just what to do to help. He’s just… he’s just Virgil.

But he guesses they like just Virgil fine enough. He squeezes their hands.

“I promise to be best friends with you two forever,” he says, because that’s a pretty good place to start, he thinks, even if it’s copying from Logan. “Um. I, I promise to handle the spiders, ‘cause Pat’s scared of ‘em. And I promise that if we ever go to the ocean I won’t make Logan go in or think about everything we don’t know down there, because the ocean kinda freaks me out too. I promise to try and protect you from Drake Wicche, even if he freaks me out because he’s a big bully, ‘cause that’s what friends should do, protect each other. Um. I, uh, I promise to always listen whenever you wanna talk about something. An’ I promise I’ll try and help figure out how to make it better and look at it from all the angles that I can think of, and a few that probably won’t happen, but. Better safe than sorry. So. I’ll—I want to keep you safe. I’ll try my hardest to do that. To protect you. I promise.”

“I do,” Logan says, stalwart, and Patton echoes him, much softer, before he clears his throat and squeezes their hands.

“I love you both very much, and I value you both greatly,” Patton says. “Logan, I love it when you read to us, and when you try playing games, and when you teach us stuff, and when you tie our shoes, and when you wear those ties you really like. Virgil, I love the way you protect us, and when you help us decide what to do, and when you handle the spiders, and when you listen to us talk about stuff, and help us figure out stuff. I love you both very, very much, and I think being stuck with you both forever, well—it’d be a pretty good deal.”

A beat, and Patton adds, “And I promise to be best friends with you two forever and ever and ever, as long as we three shall live.”)

“Those were your vows,” Virgil says pointedly.

“Huh,” Patton says, and he sounds like he’s smiling. “Guess they were.”

A long pause.

“Sleep?” Patton asks.

“Sleep,” Virgil and Logan agree.

“Good,” Patton says, and, like it’s not even the slightest deviation from routine, leans to peck Logan, and Virgil, and that alone isn’t enough to deviate from routine, except he pecks them on the lips.

“Night!” He says brightly, as if he did not just drop their first kiss in the relationship on them out of nowhere.

“Um?” Virgil says, voice squeaky.

A pause. “Hm?”

“Patton,” Logan says. “You just—kissed us.”

“...yeah?” Patton says, confused. “I... always do?”

“On the mouth,” Virgil says, strangled. “You kissed us. On the mouth.”

A horrified pause. “I didn’t.”

“Yes,” Logan says, heart fluttering. “Yes, you did.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did!” Virgil says, and he sounds panicked—well, Logan supposes it was a surprise, and Virgil doesn’t like surprises, but this is a pleasant surprise!

“No!” Patton says, and Logan is very suddenly jostled off of Patton’s chest, and Patton turns on the lamp, looking distressed, “No, I didn’t!”

“Yes!” Virgil says, already sitting up, eyes wild, hair sticking up as if he has the same reaction as cats do to being startled. “You did!”

“Can we stop repeating ourselves?” Logan says.

“How are you not freaking out about this?!” Virgil demands. “Your boyfriend kissed me!”

At the same time, Logan says, “He’s your boyfriend too?” as Patton yelps, “My boyfriend?!”

“I—wait,” Virgil says. “My boyfriend?”

“Yes?” Logan says, looking between the pair of them. “We have been friends for a great period of time, we selected a college we would all be able to attend together, we have gotten an apartment together, we frequently share a bed, we have a standing engagement for dinner at least weekly, in addition to outings we all have together, and—“

And Logan’s stomach is sinking.

“—and I misinterpreted this, didn’t I?” Logan says. “It—it seemed like the logical progression of our relationship, we—“

“We just—hang on,” Patton says, and shoves his hands through his hair. He always looks strange without his glasses, but his eyes seem huge even without the natural magnification effect. “I—wait. Hang on. In the world’s tiniest sentences, can everyone tell me what we think is going here?”

“We’re all romantic partners,” Logan says, still feeling miserable. “I—I apologize if my revealing this has made you uncomfortable, I—“

“We’ll work it out, Lo, just—Virge?”

“I thought you two were dating,” Virgil says.

“Wha—just us?” Logan says.

“Well, yeah!” Virgil says. “You—Patton’s all lovey-dovey with you, and you always give him that look when he’s being particularly Patton, and I thought you two were—monogamous.”

“Virgil, I walked into Patton napping on top of you this afternoon,” Logan says.

“He’s a cuddler!”

“He cuddles both of us!”

“He was cuddling me because you weren’t there!”

“He cuddles both of us, because he’s our boyfriend!”

“I thought we were all single and I was stuck hopelessly pining!” Patton wails, before he claps his hand over his mouth.

“I—what?” Virgil says. “Patton, you could get anyone you want, I mean, you’re—you’re you.”

“I concur,” Logan says. “You are a fantastic boyfriend, or, well—“ He feels abruptly foolish, once again, “Or I thought you were.”

“I—okay,” Patton says. “Virgil. When did you think Logan and I started dating?”

“After you two came back from the planetarium and Patton was wearing your coat, during... junior year?”

“Of high school?”

“Yes, of high school,” Virgil grumbles. “You two are all—hand-holdy, and sweet, and I just—”

“Okay,” Patton says. “Logan, when did we all start dating?”

“I—well, I don’t know, really, we just—we all moved into the same apartment, and were all gradually becoming more physical, and we started sleeping in the same bed, I talked to Roman—“

“You talked to Roman?!”

“He’s the most qualified person I know to speak about romance,” Logan says defensively.

“Roman thinks we’re dating?” Virgil says.

“Well, I suppose I lied to him, because apparently we’re not!” Logan snaps.

“I—hang on,” Patton says. “Okay. Let me get this straight. Virgil. Do you like me?”

Virgil looks panicked.

“Just a yes or no, do you like me like that?” Patton says. “No judgment.”

“I—well...” Virgil squirms. “Yeah.”

“And do you like Logan?”

“...yeah,” Virgil says quietly, looking at his hands.

“Okay. Logan—“

“I believe my stance was made clear,” Logan says.

“And mine,” Patton says, and looks—irritated?

“You said no judgment,” Virgil says, shrinking away.

“I could have been dating the pair of you since we were thirteen?!” Patton practically shouts. “I’ve missed out on eight years of boyfriendship because none of us can talk about our feelings?!”

“So,” Virgil says. “So you like us?”

“Hopelessly pining, V,” Patton says. “Of course I like you, oh my goodness, how could I possibly not like you two?”

Virgil’s eyes grow slightly shiny. “Really?”

“Yes, really, of course really,” Patton says. “L?”

“Oh, right, outward validation,” Logan says. “Yes, of course I like you. The both of you.”

Patton squeals, clapping his hands, and cups Logan’s face, pulls him in, and—

And oh. Patton’s extensive moisturizing campaign has extended to his lips, his soft, lush, slightly wet lips, his warm, beautiful lips, and Logan’s brain has gone so quiet and so awed and he has been thinking about this for years, years and years, he’s wanted this for years and he’s getting it and it almost feels like it isn’t real and—

They break, and Logan forces himself to not stare at Patton’s lips, but he doesn’t have much of a chance before Patton leans and cups Virgil’s face and—

And watching them is like watching an eclipse, sun and moon overlapping, Patton’s tan hands cupping Virgil’s pale cheeks, which are rapidly becoming rosy with a blush, and Virgil’s jaw flexes as they kiss, and kiss, and how does Logan feel lightheaded, he’s not even the one kissing right now?

They break apart with an appealing noise, and Patton says brightly, “Okay, now you two.”

“I—oh,” Logan says, and turns to Virgil. “I—yes?”

“Yes,” Virgil says, and Logan mimicks Patton’s stance—cupping Virgil’s cheek, and feeling his strong jaw is even more appealing than just staring at it—and he presses his lips against Virgil’s, rough and a little chapped because Virgil chews them so often, but they move just as smoothly as Patton’s do, and oh, there’s the lingering taste of Patton’s strawberry chapstick is lingering on Virgil’s lips, his cinnamon toothpaste, and—and—

Virgil draws back, and Logan blinks, and Patton giggles.

“Hey, I’m just gonna say, again,” Patton says. “Eight. Years. We could have been doing this for eight years.”

“I can’t believe we’ve lived in a loveless marriage since we were four,” Virgil says, and then Logan feels like he’s bursting, and then—

He’s giggling.

Patton and Virgil exchange a glance, delighted, and Patton leans forward, peppering kisses on Logan’s face, before he turns and does the same thing to Virgil, who flushes and ducks, shoulders hiking, but he has a soft secretive smile, and Logan can’t help but giggle even more.

“Well, we can’t possibly go to sleep now,” Patton says.

“Yeah,” Virgil says, “What on earth are we gonna do with all this free—“

Virgil’s mouth is suddenly occupied. With Logan’s mouth. Because Logan is kissing him.

Look, he’s not very inclined toward analogy, okay?

#my fic #sanders sides #analogicality #analogical #logicality #moxiety #my post #text

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theydontknowaboutusimagines · 4 years

Text

The Breakup Song - Harry Styles Two Shot (Part 1)

Harry knew of the risk he was getting ready take in front of millions of people and eventually the internet. However, it was mostly risky for that fact that you would see and hear it. It was the night he was doing double duty for SNL, being both the host and the musical guest. He was a little nervous at first, but it was mostly from adrenaline and excitement for what was to come. He had practiced and worked so hard all week long and couldn’t wait to finally do the live show.

Except for one part. The second song he would be performing that night. It was a song off of his upcoming sophomore album and it had never been heard before by anyone other than the few who he’s already had listen to the album. The song he would be performing was without a doubt the most personal song he had ever written and that was on the album.

He had ran the idea over and over in his head countless of times on whether he should perform it or not, but while it was the most personal on the album, it was also his favorite. It was a song he had written in a short time in the middle of the night. He hadn’t been able to sleep, so instead of fighting it, he got up, poured himself a glass of wine and sat down at his piano.

At first, he started just messing out with different chords when he came across something that he liked. He took a sip of his wine as he wrote down the different notes and chords he was playing, when he noticed something in the corner of his eye. It was something he hadn’t even realized was still there, a photo of you and him on your first holiday together.

That photo was one of his favorites because it was right after you two told each other you loved the other for the first time. You two were watching the sunset in the backyard of your little bungalow on the beach. His arms were wrapped around you and you laced your fingers with his. There was nothing but the sound of the wind and the waves as you two sat together. When finally, Harry whispered those three words into your ear.

You paused for a second, making sure you heard him correctly, before looking back at him. His eyes were filled with love and worry as he looked into your eyes. You smiled pressing your forehead to his and repeating those same three words to him. After a few kisses were shared in celebration, you took out the old polaroid camera you always carried around to capture private moments.

You held it in selfie mode, hoping you would get both of your faces in it. As soon as you clicked to take the photo, Harry smirked kissing your cheek instead of looking at the camera. When he got home, he put the photo in a frame and it hasn’t been moved sense.

Which is probably why it was still in the same place even after your breakup over six months ago. He got up from his seat at the piano to pick up the picture frame. He opened it up taking the polaroid out of the frame to hold in his hand.

He missed you. God, he fucking missed you. He missed sleeping next to you and waking up to you in the morning. He missed cooking breakfast in nothing but underwear with you. He missed going to your shows and seeing you out in the crowd at his. He missed the way he felt whenever he was you, like he could get through anything with you by his side. Like he was the best version of himself whenever he was with you. He missed making love with you under the moonlight shining into the bedroom. He missed your laugh and your smile.

He just missed you. Honestly, your breakup would have hurt him less had it been a messy one. The truth was there was no cheating, no argument, no words said that couldn’t ever be taken back. It just ended. Life happened and got in the way and both of you just drifted apart. You were out on tour and Harry was in the studio starting to really work on his album.

There were days that passed without a even a simple text from the other and when you two finally did have a conversation, it was awkward and distant. There wasn’t even really an official breakup, just a suggestion that maybe it was best for the two of you to take time apart, that maybe that moment in your lives wasn’t the best for a relationship.

Your two year long relationship, just ended it. At first, Harry didn’t know how to react. He didn’t know how he felt. It wasn’t until he said it out loud to his mother for the first time that it really hit him that it was over. And that’s when he broke down in his childhood home with his mother’s arms wrapped around him.

“Sometimes, people drift apart,” Anne whispered. “Sometimes people change, it doesn’t mean their love as changed, but sometimes the people just aren’t right for one another. I know this hurts, now, sweetheart, but one day, if you two are meant to be together, you will find your way back to each other.”

Reminiscing all of those memories had tears flooding down his face. God, he felt absolutely pathetic sitting there in his fluffy robe, drinking wine at his piano, holding a photo of him and his ex. But he knew the only way he would ever be able to get out of this mindset that night, he would need to take all of his feelings he was feeling in that moment and pour them out onto the page.

And that’s exactly what he did.

Harry was halfway through the show now and he was just about to go on next to sing the song. It was too late to look back now and to change the song. He bit his lip as he debated on sending you a quick heads up text, but he wasn’t sure how you would take it. He had spoken to you since you packed up your things from his house. You two hadn’t really moved into together, but you each had a few things at the other’s house for when you stayed together.

He hadn’t even told you about the song, which he felt bad about, but how was he supposed to bring it up. Just send a text or call you and say, ‘oh by the way, there’s song about our breakup and how much I still love you and miss you, and want to make love to you to make up for all the time we lost, and I’m sorry this wasn’t our time, but maybe one day it will be our time again,’, like he didn’t exactly think that would go over well.

But he also wasn’t sure this approach would go over well either. Either way, though, he was fucked and he just loved putting himself in those situations. The sound of his name, brought him out of his thoughts and it was time for him to head to the stage for his performance. He took a deep breath, shook out his nerves a little bit, and walked out of the dressing room and onto the stage.

He stood at the microphone, the spotlight on him, as the soft melody began playing on the piano behind him. He closed his eyes as he gripped onto the mic and the stand as he waited for his cue. His hands were shaking as he the first lyrics of the song came out of his mouth.

Throughout the entire song, he felt his voice becoming shaky as his emotions took over. He could feel tears forming in his eyes, so he kept them closed tightly to keep them from falling down his face. Once the song was over and he hit his final note, he finally opened his eyes as two single tears trickled down his face as he stared into the camera.

You were currently in your hotel room at one of your final stops on tour for the year, when you found yourself in a dilemma. You were highly debating on turning on the TV to watch your ex, Harry, on SNL. You knew how big of an accomplishment this was for him and deep down you wish you were there for him. You had performed double duty in the past and you knew how nerve-wracking and fun it was to be on there. But even if you weren’t on tour, you wouldn’t have felt right in going or reaching out to him knowing you two hadn’t spoken in months.

People said it would get easier as time went on. That your heart would heal and eventually you would be in a better place having moved on from your relationship that didn’t work out. You were still waiting on that moment. The moment you heart wouldn’t ache at the thought of him. The moment you wouldn’t long for his touch or the smell of his cologne. The moment you wouldn’t live with the regret of letting your relationship fall apart.

It wasn’t solely your fault and you knew that, but you also knew you didn’t go out of your way to change anything either. You currently were holding the tv remote in your hand, knowing the show was about to start. Luckily, you were ending your tour in the states, so there wasn’t really a crazy time zone issue.

Before you could turn the tv on, there was a knock on the door. You groaned walking over and peeking through the peep hole seeing your hairstylist, Nicki, and your stylist, Haven.

You unlocked the door, opening it, “Yes?” You asked.

“Good you’re still dressed,” Nicki said. “Come on, let’s go out.”

“Um- no,” you said.

“Um, yes,” Haven said. “We know exactly what you’re wanting to do and now is not the time.”

“Actually, now is the time,” you said. “It’s about to start.”

“Y/N, you’re still grieving over this relationship, do you honestly think seeing him on the screen for almost two hours is going to be a good thing for you?” Haven asked.

She did have a point, but-

“No, but’s,” Haven said. “We both know I’m right and everything will mostly likely be on youtube in the morning, so you could easily watch those if you wanted, but at least you can watch it in small doses.”

You sighed, “Let me grab my coat and purse.”

After a night of hanging out at a local karaoke bar, you were a bit drunk, not blackout drunk, but you were definitely feeling the drinks you consumed. When you got back to your hotel, you undressed and got into bed before looking at your phone. It didn’t take long before you noticed your mentions on literally every social media you had was blowing up.

Your first thought was someone had taken your picture at the bar and news of your whereabouts were spreading, but every single mention involved Harry. Nausea creeped up in stomach as you sat up, scrolling through.

“OH MY GOD. HIS VOICE WAS SO SHAKY AND HE WAS CRYING LITERAL TEARS. MY BABY! #HarryOnSNL”

“THAT SONG WAS SO HEARTBREAKING AND I’M 99.9% SURE ITS ABOUT HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH Y/N #HarryOnSNL”

“It’s obvious Harry and Y/N still love each other. Can they please just get back together and be happy! #HarryonSNL”

“His hands. Look at his hands. They were literally shaking with nervous and he looks so sad. #HarryonSNL”

As if those tweets were bad enough, there were also multiple trending topics on twitter, HarrylovesY/N, Harry&Y/Nforever, Y/Ship/Name, etc. The nausea in your stomach starting creeping up even more and you rushed straight into the bathroom. Now, you weren’t sure if it was because of the night’s drinking or the fact Harry had obviously sang a song about you on SNL. And it’s not that he only did that, but he was also emotional about it.

In a lot of the tweets, there were snippets of video taken from the episode. You quickly scrolled away from them because you couldn’t bring yourself to watch them. If you were going to listen or watch his performance, you would wait until you could watch it in it’s entirety and when you’re not slightly drunk, emotional, and throwing up in the bathroom.

Once your stomach settled a little bit, you turned off your phone, and went to bed, softly crying yourself to sleep.

During the afterparty of SNL, Harry was trying to have a good time, but he was distracted by his phone. He saw all the trending topics and all the tweets to you about the song. He knew this was going to happen and he knew it would only be a matter of time before you seen everything and heard the song. Once again he debated about reaching out to you, but he thought it would be better to let some time go by before he did.

So, he put his phone in his pocket and tried his best to enjoy what was left of the afterparty.

Later that morning, when you woke up, your head was pounding. However, you were pretty sure that was more from crying than the drinking. You pulled yourself out of bed, into the bathroom to brush your teeth before getting into the shower. You had a towel wrapped around you, when you heard a knock on the door again. You grabbed your robe to replace the towel and went to answer it.

It was Nicki and Haven again, with coffee and breakfast in their hands.

“Hey,” you whispered answering the door.

“Hey,” they said. “We uh, thought you could use some company this morning.”

You knew, that they knew about the tweets, the trending topics, and the performance. You weren’t sure if they’ve watched it yet, but you knew they were there for you, so that you could.

You sat in the bed, legs crossed, as you nibbled on your muffin.

“So... uh... do you think you’re ready?” Haven asked.

“I-I don’t know,” you sighed. “Just last night you two said I shouldn’t watch it, and now, maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Yes,” Nicki said. “We did say that, but we meant the live show. And we also didn’t know there was going to be a song about you. I mean, thank god, we didn’t let you watch it. I can only imagine what would have happened if you heard it live without knowing about it.”

“Have you listened to it?” You asked looking at them.

They both looked at each other before nodding, “Only because we wanted to know what it was, so we could warn you... if it was bad.”

“Is it?” you sighed.

“No,” she answered. “It’s far from it.”

“Do you think I should watch it?” You asked.

“I think that if you don’t, this song is the only thing you’re going to think about today,” she said.

You sighed, “Okay, hand me my phone.”

You went to youtube and sure enough there was the video of his performance as soon as you opened up the app. You took a deep breath as your finger lingered over the video for a moment before you finally got the courage to click it.

The entire time you watched the video, you were holding your breath. You didn’t really realize it until the end, when you let it out, along with the tears that had formed. As if the song wasn’t bad enough, in the emotional sense, seeing Harry’s body language throughout his performance didn’t help either. Those tweets were right, he was shaking and getting emotional as he sang it.

There were mentions of some of your favorite memories together, how it came to an end, how he wanted the ache in his chest to go away, but the only way it would happen is if you were in his arms again.

“Every night I lay in our bed, thinking about how I want your head laying next to mine as we fall asleep, dreaming about how we’re meant to be. I know they say sometimes love runs outs, but I hope to god that you never doubt that my heart beats for only you. I want your love more than you could ever know and I hate myself for letting you go.” (I know, I know, these “lyrics” are cringe, but work with me here.”

You placed your phone down with a shaky hand. You expected this, you expected it to be about you, your relationship, and his feelings. But what you didn’t expect was for him to lay everything out like that. You didn’t know how to take this, how to feel about it. You felt the exact same way. You wanted to be with Harry more than anything, but you also knew there was a reason on why you two ended in the first place.

“How are you feeling?” Haven whispered.

“Emotional,” you half laughed. “I-god, I don’t fucking know.”

“You don’t have to feel anything right now,” Nicki said. “You’re allowed to take your time. I mean that was a lot... for anyone to take in.”

“I think.. I think I just need some time to myself,” you whispered.

“Are you sure?” Haven asked.

You nodded, “I’ll see you two for the show tonight.”

The entire day after SNL, Harry felt sick to his stomach. He hadn’t heard from you, not that he was really expecting it, but he was sort of hoping he would. The videos and tweets had blown up even more and he knew that more than likely you had seen it by now or you refused to watch it. If you had watch it, he felt a little hurt that you wouldn’t reach out to him, but he couldn’t blame you because he didn’t know if he could actually bring himself to contact you if it were the other way around.

“Do you think I fucked up?” Harry sighed to Jeff as they sat over lunch.

“With?” He asked.

“Singing the song about Y/N,” he whispered.

“No,” Jeff sighed. “When it came down to which songs you were going to perform, that was the first one that popped out of your mouth and even after debating with yourself over it, you still felt it was the one you wanted to do.”

“I know,” he said. “But-I just... I didn’t think it would cause this type of reaction. The majority are nice, but there are some bashing Y/N for breaking my heart... like I didn't want that.”

“Harry, you know you can control the actions and reactions of other’s to your music,” he said. “But I do think you need to contact Y/N and clear the air. You’re going to keep feeling like shit until you talk to her about this and I know you’re waiting on her to reach out, but honestly, if she doesn’t reach out to you in a few days, then you need to be the one to do it. I mean, you would look like a bigger ass, if you didn’t.”

“Thanks for that, Jeff,” Harry mumbled.

The entire day, you laid in the bed of your hotel room, listening to the song. You couldn’t bare to watch the video, to see him physically singing the lyrics to you. Everything he was saying in that song, was what you wished he had said all those months ago. Hell, you wish you said those things yourself because had one of you did, you wouldn’t be in the emotional state you were in.

You thought about reaching out to him, but you couldn't do it. You had no idea what you would even say to him and there was no way you would be able to hear his voice without crying other. You just needed to get through the final show that night and then you would be headed back to LA in the morning. By then you would hopefully have your thoughts in order.

Later that night, Harry was about to head to LA for some other appearances and interviews for promo, he noticed his mentions were filling up again. He thought about ignoring it, knowing it was more than likely people still talking about the song and you. However, something inside of him told him to check it before he got on the plane.

His heart stopped as he saw a tweet with a video of you at your show that night. That’s right, he quickly remembered that it was your final show that night. He put in his headphones and clicked on the video.

“Before I start this next song, I uh, I want to say a little something,” you started. You were sitting on a stool at the end of the catwalk, holding your guitar as the spotlight shined on you. “This next song is a song I haven’t performed in a while. I stopped performing it because it was... it was hard for me because of something going on in my personal life. But I just want to say that, I’m still a little broken inside, but uh... I’m going to be okay. It may not be tonight, or tomorrow, but I know that one day I will be okay. There’s a quote from one of my favorite tv shows that as always meant a lot to me and in this particular moment of my life, I feel like it fits perfectly. Peyton Sawyer once said that people always leave, and she was right. We all go through life dealing with losing friends or loved ones, getting our heartbroken, etc. But sometimes, those people will come back. If they love you enough and if you love them enough, there will be a day when you find your way back to each other. And life is too short to keep waiting for that day, so if there’s someone in your life that you miss, don’t waste another second without them in your life. Just.. tell them.”

After your speech, you started strumming your guitar and sang the very first song that you wrote about Harry. The very song you stopped performing mid tour because it broke you too much to get through it after the breakup. Harry didn’t know what to think in that moment. He knew you were still on stage and he was about to board a plane. He needed to see you, to hear your voice, to tell you everything he wanted to say, but it was too late at the moment.

He would just have to keep waiting.

The second you were off stage, everyone was hugging you and congratulating you on the end of another successful tour. Normally, you would have an end of the tour party, but luckily you had arranged that to be back in LA. Originally, you were going to wait and fly out tomorrow morning, but you decided on leaving right after the show. You just couldn’t face going back to that hotel room.

On the car ride to the airport, you stared at Harry’s contact in your phone. Your old texts to each other were still there because you never could bring yourself to delete them. You bit your lip knowing this wasn’t exactly how you wanted to break the silence between the two of you after so long, but it would have to do for now. You took a deep breath before typing your message to him and clicking send.

As soon as Harry was off the plane, his phone buzzed in his pocket as he pulled his carryon on back over his shoulder. He stepped to the side and took it out. His knees nearly buckled when he saw your name come across the screen. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he unlocked his phone to view the message.

I love you, too.

Thoughts?? There will be a part two! Not sure when I’ll post it, but it will be this week! :)

#One Direction Imagines #Harry Styles Imagines #Harry Styles One shots

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Books are Better Than People

TITLE: Books are better than People CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 19 AUTHOR: dance-in-moonlight ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine taking Loki to the biggest library in the world, The Tianjin Binhai Library in China. As soon as you walk in, he’s like a kid in a candy store as he doesn’t know where to start with 1.2 million books surrounding him… RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: Y/N experiences a degree of anxiety and self-hatred as she second guesses her actions and worries about her job. It’s not much, but I mention it just in case.

Your pulse was hammering in your veins as you waited in the long, gloomy corridor in front of the double winged door.

You’d walked through it many times in the past running errands for Tony, picking him up for a meeting he forgot about or bringing him papers to sign, occasionally even giving in to his pleading and bringing him a coffee and cheeseburgers.

Never had this door seemed so intimidating to you. The wood seemed darker, harder, towering above as if it was supposed to keep something hidden. Something dangerous, maybe.

You laughed dryly at yourself and shook your head.

“You’re being stupid. You’re just scared. Grow the fuck up, Y/N”, you mumbled to yourself in a shaky voice.

Since nobody had replied to your knocking you raised your hand again, took a deep breath and knocked again, a little louder this time. Three short sounds that echoed through the corridor behind you.

“Come in!"

"I’m not gonna cry”, you whispered to yourself determinedly and took a deep breath, then pushed down the handle and entered the office.

After the dim corridor the light flooding in through the huge windows behind Tony’s desk almost blinded you. You blinked a few times until you had adjusted and saw the furniture again instead of just white light.

“Sit down. Or don’t, whatever you feel like."

You looked up to find Tony at his desk, going through some kind of notes. Probably printouts he had made himself after you’d abandoned your work for a whole damn week.

He seemed…indifferent. His voice was calm and collected,he wasn’t glaring at you. Well, he wasn’t looking at you either. Anyway it was a better beginning of this than you had anticipated.

You quietly closed the door and walked over to the desk, pulled back one of the chairs in front of it and took a seat. You remained visibly tensioned, sitting unnaturally straight and drumming your fingers against your thigh.

Tony looked up when you sat down, eyeing you for a few seconds. You resisted the urge to squirm in your seat, it felt as if he looked right through you and into your head.

"Y/N? What do expect to happen here today?”, he questioned calmy.

“I-I thought maybe you'd…. I’ll face the consequences of my actions, Sir”, you pressed out, avoiding his gaze.

“Which actions exactly?”, he continued while breaking eye contact to pile the papers he’d been working on neatly. You took a shaky breath when he couldn’t see, you felt like a child being lectured.

“Endangering a mission, overstepping boundaries and disappearing for a week, leaving you in a mess of missed appointments. Sir I…”, you replied in your best attempt at a controlled and calm voice. The sentence hung in the air, unfinished. There were no words to express the cloud of emotions in your head.

Tony sighed heavily, causing you to look up. He rested his forearms on the files, his head was angled forward and his eyes were closed for a second. He looked older like this, strained. You preferred the happy, slightly annoying Tony.

“Y/N��"

"Sir?"

He sighed again, then lifted his head to look at you. The expression on his face could best be described as tired now.

"Those…Boundaries. We need to address that."

"We really don’t.” You felt heat rising in your cheeks. You really didn’t want to go over the embarrassing thing with the father figure incident again. It was bad enough that Tony knew about it at all.

“Yes Y/N we do! You’ve come here almost right after college, that’s been a while. We should be able to talk about this. I remember several times after long meetings or parties where you dragged passed-out me to bed. Literally. And although it’s not your job you made sure I stay alive when Pepper’s not home to do it. ”

It was true. At the time you had felt it was your job and also your duty as a human to take care of him. You weren’t sure why he even brought it up in this discussion, but you kind of forgot it over worrying how this would end.

He scratched the back of his head, crinkled his nose and looked somewhere else in the room. The other hand was fidgeting with the corner of a file in front of him, flipping it up and pushing it back down until it was deeply creased.

“ What I’m tryna say is… Uh, I hate this. ”

You frowned and cleared your throat, shifting in your seat.

“Pardon, Sir?"

"I… Y/N, I don’t like this kind of conversation. Sorry, not really my thing”, he replied, now scratching his goatee.

“I get that”, you nodded, fighting the tears forming in your eyes.

This was it. He was about to tell you to grab your things and go. Your second job after college, almost four years now… and now you’d fucked it up. This dream job. People had been jealous of your job, not understanding how you deserved it and now you’d been so careless with it…Perhaps you deserved it.

“Y/N!"

"Huh?"

Oh no, you’d zoned out. No no no…Could you really make it any worse?

"What’s up? You look upset”, Tony asked from behind his desk.

You blinked and sorted your thoughts. Stay calm, appear professional.

“I’m aware of the situation and it’s obviously not easy for anyone -” , you began.

“Nah, I think there’s a lot of people who don’t mind that. Thanks for being sympathetical though."

"Anyway, I thought after your outburst earlier you’d waste no time. I’m actually surprised you didn’t just tell me”, you said bravely. A little part of your brain proudly acknowledged that you spoke very calmly.

Now Tony was the one frowning.

“Tell you what?"

"Sir…you were about to fire me.”

“Hold up. What?"

It was quiet for a few seconds. Tony had leaned his torso far over the desk toward you, his hands supporting him on the wood as he read your expression. He remained there frozen, assessing the situation. Perhaps repeating your words in his head.

And then he understood.

And had the audacity to start laughing.

"Y/N, oh my God”, he laughed and slapped the table so loud you twitched.

Awesome, now he was just laughing at you? This was officially the worst day of your life.

“Can I just go please? I…This is a bit much”, you murmured with burning cheeks, staring at your lap where your fingers cramped together in a desperate attempt of your body to soothe the discomfort.

Once he noticed how uncomfortable you were, Tony calmed himself and cleared his throat a couple of times.

“Sorry it’s just so bizarre. I am not gonna fire you, Y/L/N. I’m trying to talk about…uh…emotions."

"What?"

Your head shot up and you frowned. This was indeed too much. And where was this coming from? Oh god…oh dear, this wouldn’t go into a weird direction, would it?

Better take the conversation back to the topic.

"I’m not here to get fired for missing a week of work?”, you reassured yourself.

Tony shook his head and folded his hands.

“No and yes. Kinda. Not really. See, you do great work here. I don’t always act like it, but I appreciate it. You’re my personal assistant, I trust you. You know me well and believe it or not, I know you. I trust you. And uh…"

He bit his lip, his eyes watched his fingers twirl around each other. If it wasn’t Tony Stark sitting at that desk you’d have sworn he was nervous. And that made you nervous.

"Y/N, you’re so young. So much potential in that hardworking mind of yours. I might have…seen myself in that. And you’re a very nice and smart person. The team loves you, you know. Rogers and Romanoff would take a bullet for you like they would for each other. And I would too. I mean I’d have a suit dodge it obviously, but you get it”, he said waving his hand through the air to underline his words.

“I guess…Maybe I do feel like you’re my kid a little bit. Not like super much, but like with the spider kid. You get me?"

You felt even more confused , a bit glad it wasn’t a weird kind of emotion he wanted to address and somewhat happy about the confession, but most of all you didn’t understand where this was going.

"I’m glad to hear that….but, um…why are you telling me this right now?”, you asked carefully.

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Remember when you left the continent to find a psycho god to hang out with?”, he asked, looking at you expectantly as if the conclusion were the easiest thing ever.

“Yeah?”, you asked carefully, not getting it.

“And how I yelled at you?"

"Very well, Sir. But how does that -"

"Come on Y/L/N”, he grinned satisfied, leaning back now to watch your reaction.

“I was worried about you."

_____________________________

You were walking up the last set of stairs to your apartment, searching for your keys in your pocket.

Fifteen minutes ago you’d left the tower after conversing with Tony for another hour. It had been a little weird at first talking about those deeply platonic feelings with your boss, but once you’d relaxed a sincere and honest conversation had started. In the end, both of you had been able to laugh about the whole misunderstanding.

After that, Tony had sent you home for the rest of the day to catch up on your schedule. You’d be expected to be back at it the next day.

You smiled fondly at the new memory when your reached the top of the stairs and walked down the corridor.

On the way down the corridor toward your apartment your pocket started chiming and vibrating. It startled you in the quiet corridor, but after a second where you recollected yourself and took a breath you grabbed your phone, checked the caller ID and answered it.

"Hi Nat, what’s up?"

"You sound awfully cheerful. Stark didn’t fire you.”

It wasn’t a question.

“How did you-”, you began but were again interrupted by her smooth voice.

“Y/N, honey, I’m the best spy in the world”, she replied and you swore you’d heard her chuckle.

“Yeah I forgot about that, you’re so tame when I’m around”, you teased. Usually you’d been less affectionate around the Avengers, but after today’s talk with Tony you felt soft and wanted to hug everyone within your reach.

You’d gone from rock bottom to cloud nine within an hour.

“That’s not why I called you though."

Her voice remained calm but switched to a more serious tone. You’d reached your front door now and began to look through the keys on your keychain to find the right one.

"Ah. What’s up then? Did something happen? Shit, is the team okay?”, you asked and stilled, suddenly worried something might have happened.

“No we’re fine. I actually think the others are having doughnuts right now.

Listen Y/N, it’s not really my business but I heard Clint asking Tony for your address, he said he was asking for Thor. Now I guess he was asking for someone else too, so you might have a visitor. ”

You frowned and took a step back from the door.

“Oh. Thanks for worrying, but that’s okay. I mean, I didn’t expect it, but he’s my…you know… ”

You blushed. Why were you so shy about it?

Natasha chuckled audibly this time.

“I just wanted to make sure. Have fun Y/N, and if something comes up you know you can call me. I’ll kick his ass."

You grinned and finally unlocked the door.

"Thanks Nat, I appreciate it. I’ll see you around the tower, have a nice afternoon!"

You said your goodbyes and hung up, then entered the apartment and closed the door. You slid off your shoes and jacket and dropped your bag before walking into the living room to find out whether Nat was right.

The sound of steps from behind you made you turn your head in surprise.

"Loki? Oh -"

You took a few seconds to take in the sight.

He stood in the living room just behind you, looking beautiful as ever but also astonishingly mundane.

He wore black jeans that weren’t too tight but still complimented his thighs, matched with a white Henley. The latter made his pale skin shine almost rosy, and his hair seemed blacker than ever, shining in the afternoon sun that came in through the windows.

Your boyfriend had a reserved, almost shy expression on his face as he watched you, waited for your reaction. The sight reminded you of a puppy.

A happy little sigh left your mouth before you closed the distance in between you two with a few steps and wrapped your arms around him, buried your face in the crook of his neck. In response warm, strong arms pulled you in and held you close to his chest.

You stood like that for a moment, the sun soaking through your clothes and warming you, Loki’s chest quietly moving with the breath you felt on the crown of your head. It was grounding after the up and down of the day, it felt good to have him this close again. You hadn’t even noticed how much you’d missed him even after such a short time.

Eventually you tilted your head back enough to catch his emerald eyes staring at you, examining your face with an expression that made you feel like the most wonderful creature in the universe. Heat rose to your cheeks and a smile curled up in the corners of your mouth.

“Hi”, you whispered and smiled sheepishly, still holding him tight.

Loki raised one of his hands from your waist to hold the left side of your face instead, then leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. You pouted, tried going for a real kiss but he held you in his gentle yet strong grip, indicating that he wanted to say something first.

“Hello beautiful”, he replied in a voice that sounded like chocolate and honey, “I missed you. Are you alright?”

You smiled and nodded, pressed your cheek into the palm of his hand, then turned your head to kiss the spot instead. Loki hummed in appreciation, but his careful gaze showed he was waiting for an answer.

“I thought Tony was going to fire me”, you eventually explained, “but he told me that he was just worried. He likes me more than the average employee, that’s all.”

Loki chuckled satisfied, let his cool fingers slide down your jaw to gently tilt your face up by your chin. He leaned in, his lips hovering just over your own, not quite touching yet.

“How could he not”, he murmured, his breath tickling your skin, “how could anyone not love you?”

“You’re exaggerating”, you whispered back but blushed nevertheless at the compliment and what it implied.

Loki rubbed his thumb along your chin as he finally kissed you, slow and careful at first. Your heart felt like it was glowing with heat and love at the gentleness of the whole situation. You sighed into the kiss and leaned even more into him to deepen it.

___________________

Eventually Loki pulled away, peppered your face in tiny kisses before taking your hand and leading you over to the couch instead, where you immediately snuggled up and talked and kissed and you felt happier by the second.

When you - only reluctantly - opened your laptop and sighed that you had some homework to do, Loki insisted that he could wait for the night and then disappeared into the kitchen.

You were deep into scheduling events and meetings, clicking between different pages and programs so fast it made your eyes hurt, when a steaming hot cup of coffee was set down next to you.

You tilted your head awkwardly since the phone was pressed between your cheek and shoulder, and you mouthed ‘thank you’ to your boyfriend, accompanied by an apologetic look.

Loki just smiled, kissed your forehead and disappeared back into the kitchen.

#Loki #Lover #submission #Submitted fic #dance-in-moonlight #books are better than people #Chapter 19

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years

Text

the deadliest game // charlotte&lola

Summary: Motley Crue, Lola, Charlotte, Peach, and Eileen play Knife Monopoly. It goes about as well as you could expect.

A/N: BIG WARNING THERE’S SO MANY KNIVES. KNIVES, INJURY, MENTIONS OF BLOOD, CUTTING AND STABBING BUT NOT IN A SERIOUS WAY, JUST LIKE A FUN LITTLE STAB, BUT STILL THERE’S SERIOUS KNIFE PLAY. it’s not sexual but i still don’t think its sfw. @lemonadexmouth and @misscharlottelee i hope i did your girls at least a little bit proud haha. MC might be a bit oc, sorry!

----

When Charlotte hears the words Knife Monopoly leave Tommy’s mouth one unassuming Friday afternoon in the Motley House, she’s instantly sent back a whole five years, to the Bass family garage, and Athena, all of thirteen years old, screeching in triumph while Tommy, barely fifteen, swore a blue streak, amid begging Charlotte not to tell his dad. They’d ignored her warnings, her jousting with steak knives is not a better alternative to regular auctions, and as such, Tommy had underestimated his vicious and competitive little sister, and ended up with a knife half an inch deep in the heel of his palm.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Charlotte, sixteen, tells him.

“Get fucked!” Athena had crowed, knife still a little bloody as she raised it in triumph.

“Language, ‘Thena,” Charlotte reminded her, searching amid Tommy’s various musical supplies for any sort of cloth to stem the bleeding.

“I just won Knife Monopoly I can do whatever I want!” Athena responded, looking a little bit crazy, brandishing her knife at Charlotte, who just regarded her with flat unamusement.

“Go get me bandages,” she instructed the younger girl, cutting her off before she can even begin to protest, “or I’ll tell your mom it was your idea.”

“She won’t -”

“You stabbed Tommy!”

“It was his suggestion! It’s his fault he got stabbed!” But she complies anyways, and sulks the whole time. Tommy doesn’t play Knife Monopoly with his little sister after that, or around Charlotte either, though according to some of his friends at school, he hasn’t exactly quit the game cold turkey.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Charlotte calls from the bathroom where she’s helping dye the ends of Lola’s hair bright red, the moment the memory passes. It’s all over her hands, it already looks like blood; this all feels too familiar.

“Char-lee,” Tommy practically whines, and Charlotte steps out of the bathroom to scowl at him, even as Lola protests.

“Okay but what is Knife Monopoly?” Nikki is far too intrigued for his own good -

“No.” Charlotte says, firmer this time, “it’s dumb as hell. And it always ends with Tommy getting stabbed.”

“Not always!” Tommy protests, “I’ve stabbed Vince a few times,” like that makes it any better.

“Sign me up!” Nikki’s eyes are always alight with some terrible and dangerous enthusiasm, and Charlotte regrets ever meeting him, and proceeds to, in great and embarrassing detail, retell the story of the first ever game of Knife Monopoly. Tommy looks like he’s bitten a lemon by the time she’s finished. Nikki is clearly not swayed.

“I got better at it,” Tommy actually pouts.

“I’d hope so; your sister was thirteen,” Nikki points out. Tommy’s expression, defying all expectations, gets even more bitter.

“She’s vicious,” he says in his own defense, “go get Vince, he’ll tell you I’m good at it.”

“What does being good at Knife Monopoly mean?” Lola finally steps into the conversation, hands also dyed a bright, eye-catching red to match the ends of her hair currently in a messy bun atop her head. Unfortunately, she seems onboard with the whole idea.

“It means Vince got stabbed a lot,” Charlotte fills in, and Tommy’s back to grinning and nodding.

“How about it, Lo?” He’s all enthusiasm, and Lola shrugs, which he takes as a yes. He then proceeds to ask each of them if they’re in, without waiting for an answer, and practically bolts into the spare room where Vince was desperately trying to sleep off a hangover.

“Knife Monopoly!” He announces at the top of his lungs, hanging off the doorframe. It’s like he’s fifteen again. Charlotte, whole body heavy with resignation, makes her way to the phone to call up Peach and Eileen. From the other room, the other three all hear Vince groan loudly.

“No rib stabbing,” is his only groggy stipulation, and Tommy literally cheers.

Peach and Eileen show up within the hour, with a bemused Mick in tow, both women wearing near-identical disapproving scowls.

“We don’t have enough knives,” Nikki muses, looking at them, but Tommy’s acting as if their arrival means the end of the world.

“Charlie -” he tries again.

“Moral support, Thomas.” She doesn’t leave any room for argument, and then apologizes to both redheads. After a beat, the anger cracks away to resignation from Eileen, who Eileen opens her bag to reveal a swathe of gauze tape and a bottle of vodka, “just be glad I didn’t call your sister.” Charlotte adds for good measure, but Tommy just flips her off.

Peach, on the other hand, realizing that the game hadn’t even started, turns from disapproving to excited.

“Wait, so I get to actually play this time?”

“Peach!” Eileen groans, but Tommy’s offering her a place in the game. She’d always had to help clean up the aftermath; it’s easy to be disapproving when bandaging your not-boyfriend’s sliced up bicep, it’s another to be able to get drunk and play for yourself.

Lola gets out of the shower drying her freshly dyed hair, only for the body count in the apartment to have almost doubled; she takes it in stride, and actually parrots Nikki’s concern about a lack of knives almost word for word.

“If someone can drive me to my motel I can borrow some steak knives from the kitchen,” she offers, much to Charlotte and Eileen’s growing horror. Someone suggests making a night of it, of ordering pizza, getting booze, and collecting more knives before they start, and it seems almost everyone else is in agreement, even Mick, who, as Lola points out, would take any opportunity to stab the rest of the band, even a little bit.

“I hate them,” Eileen mutters to Charlotte, the two of them sharing vodka with Mick in the kitchen. Charlotte hums in agreement, watching as Nikki and Lola went to collect knives, while Vince and Peach went to pick up pizza and booze, which left Tommy to find the Monopoly board.

“Fuckin’ teenagers, the lot of them,” Mick chimes in, but there’s something amused in his gaze, and Charlotte sighs deeply and tells him not to indulge them. He shrugs, as if he can’t help himself, as if the damage is already done, and it is.

There’s actual knife wounds in the board, holes of considerable size.

Charlotte doesn’t know why now, of all the time she’s known them, that she’s finally hit with the realization that her closest friends might be the absolute dumbest people she knows.

The premise of Knife Monopoly is simple; any and all disagreements are settled with a knife fight. Disagreements can range from establishing rules - yes, that early on; there’s been several times where he’s never even made a roll and the game is over - to disputes about rent, about whose turn it is, and most famously, substituting auctions for knife fights. Usually Tommy’s only played it with one opponent, so it’s elated to maybe not get stabbed for a few rounds. The knife fights aren’t serious, no-one’s allowed to go in for the kill or anything dramatic, and if someone quits, you have to respect that and stop going after them, but once they’re out, they’re not allowed to rejoin.

Peach and Vince get back first, loaded up with food for the whole pack, and Charlotte watches through narrowed eyes as Tommy pulls Vince to the side after he’s set down all the pizzas. They’re plotting something, judging by the conspiratorial whispering, and their suddenly shifty gazes.

“Charlie,” this time her name is a question when Tommy asks it, and Charlotte turns her full attention to him and the blonde crowded together in the corner of the room, “do you think Nikki and Lola...” he hesitated, “what do you think their pain tolerance is?” He decides on, none too subtly. Charlotte, when she considers his question, can’t help the way her lips twitch in amusement, understanding exactly what was happening.

“You’re both going to lose.”

“Ye of little faith,” Vince clicks his tongue, nose in the air, and Charlotte suppresses the sudden murderous intent that surges forth in her. Probably not the best situation to be feeling murderous in.

“You’re knife fighting Nikki and Lola,” Charlotte smirks instead, “you’re going to lose.”

Neither of them like that she kind of has a point.

The two in question finally get back, a canvas bag full of steak knives in tow, which are quickly passed out, and dinner and drinks are distributed and eaten as the rules are explain. Mick’s balancing the tip of his knife against his knee where he’s sitting in the armchair, a single finger keeping the utensil aloft, regarding them all like he’s wondering who he should go for first. In contrast, Tommy and Lola are already being absolute idiots, and trying to balance their knives on their noses, thankfully handle first.

Charlotte picks up her knife.

“I want it noted that this is a absolutely terrible idea,” she’s points the knife at Tommy, and he cheerily tells her ‘then quit’. She stays in the game to prove a point to him, and takes another shot.

They roll the little plastic dice to see who goes first, and when Nikki and Vince both roll a ten, instead of rolling again, they’re both already down to fight. Except that Nikki’s got this gleam in his eyes that can mean nothing good, and is holding his knife like he knows exactly what to do with it.

There’s a moment of jousting, of metal against metal, then plastic, then Nikki’s blade slips past too quick for Vince to catch, and there’s a cut on his bicep. Tommy calls out that the fight is over, and Nikki boos him, but Lola pulls him back.

“Calm down, Jason Voorhees,” she rolled her eyes, and pokes him with her own knife. Nikki, obligingly sat back, and devoured another slice of pizza as he rolled his first turn.

The first turn goes smoothly, probably too smoothly, though Charlotte wouldn’t lie that her heart was in her throat the whole time she was moving her piece. Any objection would be met with someone’s injury, as says the rules.

When Lola takes her second roll, these rules are exploited.

“No.” Nikki tells her as soon as she totals the numbers on the dice. Lola checks her math. Eight. Two fours.

“Yes? Eight.” She answers slowly, with a frown. Tommy can already see where this is leading, and watches with wide eyes and baited breath. Nikki flips his knife, and points it at Lola.

“No.”

“How high are you?” Lola does not yet realise, it seems, and Nikki raises his eyebrows, claiming that that’s not the issue, “are you starting a fight because you’re bored?” Lola snickers, finally, and the way Nikki’s lips twitch at the corners betrays his intentions. There’s no way he would have started this over something so ridiculous with anyone else.

“I like this game,” Nikki turns to Tommy, and the moment his attention is pulled away, Lola lashes out with her knife, tearing his pants and leaving a thankfully shallow wound against his thigh. Nikki, surprised by the altercation, goes wide-eyed with shock, clutching his leg, mouth agape as he watches Lola smugly move her piece eight places forward.

“Yes, eight,” she says simply.

It was a dirty move, but Nikki’s expression turns to a disbelieving grin. Eileen hands over a roll of tissue paper. Everyone else is quiet, can’t quite believe what they’d just witnessed.

“Fucking knew you guys would be killer at this,” Tommy exclaims with a breathless grin, picking up the dice. Lola leans over and presses a sweet kiss to Nikki’s shoulder, and he, in turn, pets her head with the hand that’s not holding tissues to his fresh wound.

Alcohol goes a long way to dulling the pain, but everyone now seems to be playing strategically; Eileen’s not playing, just watching with amusement, while her little sister uses Vince’s fondness against him. Peach gives him a doe-eyed pleading look, and when he starts to lower his weapon, she gives him a considerable cut by his collar. It’s not his first of the night, and after both the cut, and her underhanded tactics, he’s the first to bail out. Eileen takes him to the bathroom to be properly cleaned and bandaged, while Peach wears a smile so oddly reminiscent of thirteen-year-old Athena, triumphant.

Mick appears to be biding his time, not challenging anyone, and no-one appears to want to challenge him, considering how unnerving he’s been acting for most of the game. Tommy and Charlotte end up challenging each other surprisingly often, and though he goes easy on her when he gets the upper hand, Charlotte still ends up with a collection of little wounds littering her skin; she can’t deny the adrenaline rush the arsenene game grants it’s players, maybe it’s why she hasn’t quit yet.

Tommy’s holding his own against Lola and Nikki surprisingly well, and there’s no denying that the three of them are the worst off of the lot; Nikki and Lola challenge each other like it’s not a game involving knives, like it’s just a normal Friday, and Charlotte quietly thinks that there’s something deeply wrong with both of them. At least they go much easier on everyone else.

“Alright, pay up, geezer, that’s four hundred you owe me,” Lola’s grin is all teeth when she turns to Mick, marking up the price for rent on her hotels, expecting him not to fight back. She’s been extorting him all game, and somehow he’s still playing.

“I think you owe me four hundred,” Mick answers with a sharp little smile, sitting forward in the chair, finally holding his knife like a weapon.

“Is that a challenge?” Lola should not be this excited at the prospect. Mick raises his eyebrows at her, holding out his hand.

“Unless you’re willing to just hand over that four hundred without a fight.”

Lola’s on her feet in a flash, bouncing on the balls of her feet, ready and waiting for Mick to stand and face her. She’s passing her knife from hand to hand, far too eager, but Mick simply takes in her stance, and throws his knife at her, aiming for her arm, as to not hit anything too vital. There’s not enough force behind the throw to leave the knife actually in her, but it leaves a considerable gash in her shoulder.

“I quit,” Mick announces, while Lola marvels at the wound with what seems to border on excitement, “I already know I can’t win,” he shrugged easily. Lola and Tommy both boo at him.

“Drummer, you’re not gonna win when two of the five remaining players get off on shit like this,” Mick says bluntly, “and it’s not you or your cousin.” Vince crows with laughter, but doesn’t disagree.

When Tommy looks to Lola, she’s glaring at Mick while Nikki dresses her wound.

“I can try,” Tommy musters all his strength, only for Charlotte to cut him down.

“No you can’t,” she practically orders, “yes that’s a challenge,” and she reaches over and cuts his palm before he can even react. It’s a dirty, underhanded move, but technically it’s not against the rules. “This game is stupid and dangerous.”

“No fair!” Tommy frowns, plucking tissues out of the quickly depleting box.

“Is that a challenge?” Charlotte raises her eyebrows at him, and Tommy sulks, but finally quits, cradling his hand to his chest, and concedes defeat.

It’s a stalemate; Peach is relatively unscathed, Charlotte has collected a handful of scrapes, while Nikki and Lola look like they’ve rolled through broken glass and loved it.

“You know what?” Peach announces, looking between Nikki and Lola, and Charlotte, like she’s interrupted a standoff, before anyone else rolls, “I don’t need to be stabbed anymore today, ‘specially not by you guys.” And she puts her knife down, raising her hands in surrender.

And then there was three.

Charlotte looks to the other two, leaning into each other and smiling in a way that was more than a little sinister, looking a little like a pair of serial killers sizing up their next victim. If it were anyone else looking at her like that, she’s pretty sure she’d be overwhelmingly intimidated, but the only thing Nikki and Lola do better than give off a ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe to everyone else, is self destruct together. Which Charlotte is far too aware of to let it go unmentioned.

“If I quit, will you two promise not to kill each other, and to never play this game again?” Charlotte asks, leveling her knife at the two of them. They share a look; Nikki shrugs.

“We do this shit for fun anyways,” Lola admitted, finally looking back at Charlotte, conceding, “we don’t need a game.” Vince groans like he’s just now realising the game was rigged from the start. Charlotte doesn’t really want to think about that too hard, instead focusing on the first half of her initial question.

“But if I quit -”

“We both win, we’re a team,” Lola snorted.

“You stabbed each other more than anyone else!” Eileen looks like she wants to hurl them both through the window, but is kind of afraid they’d enjoy it.

“I hate you both so much,” Charlotte sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand. She deliberately sets down her knife, “I quit. Knife Monopoly is officially banned.”

#nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mick mars #motley crue #Lola&Charlotte #charlotte & lola #the dirt #knives tw #knifeplay tw #knife play tw #blood tw #injury tw #wound tw #the angry lizard writes

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