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arvandus · 3 years

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The Sound of Silence (18+ Aizawa x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: After once again being stood up for a date at your favorite jazz club, you decide to give up dating entirely in favor of watching and fantasizing about your favorite jazz musician, Aizawa Shouta. You had assumed you’d never meet him face to face. You had assumed that he didn’t even know you existed. You’re about to learn that your assumptions are wrong.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/NSFW; reader wears a sexy black dress (minimally described); minor sexual harassment; slow build; praise kink (if you squint); hand kink (probably); fingering; ‘baby’ petname.

Special Note: A few days late, but here’s my contribution to the BNHarem January Collab ‘Making Beautiful Music’ posted by @kingexpl0sionmurder. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but this particular piece got a mind of its own and will at least have a sequel. If we’re all really lucky, it may become a multichapter series in the far and distant future, when my life is less crazy (I have ideas, ok??). In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this fic!

Word Count: 9486

Recommended Song: No specific song at the moment, but this was what I listened to while writing this.

Lesson 1

It was crowded tonight, the air of the small club Midnight hot and heavy with the scent of cigar smoke and booze. The noise of conversations and laughing voices filled the air like the buzzing of a hive, as bodies mingled about like busy bees, each looking for their own bit of nectar. Some looking to win romance. Some looking to win money. While others were simply winning by enjoying the company of friends. Their movements were carried on the music that filled the space, upbeat jazz played by a three-person band. It was comforting in its familiarity, developed over multiple visits – some with friends, some with coworkers, and some with potential love interests.

You sat at the bar, a drink held protectively in your hand as your eyes searched. You checked your phone for messages but found none. It’d been a full twenty minutes and you were pretty sure by this point that your date wasn’t going to show up. It was supposed to be your first date in over a month, and you’d had high hopes for it - you’d clicked well with the person on your dating app (or so you thought), talking over the course of a couple of weeks before finally deciding to meet. So tonight, you’d put in a little extra effort into your appearance, donning a black dress that showed off your curves and putting careful attention into your makeup.

Damn. You were genuinely interested in this one.

You sent them a quick text in the hopes that you’d get a response. Give them an extra ten minutes… You thought. Maybe they were caught in traffic or something.

But by the time you hit the 45-minute mark with no messages, you’d officially given up. A half-hearted sigh fell past your painted lips. You weren’t really too surprised by this point. You’d been having terrible luck in the dating scene for a while now. Sometimes it was them. Sometimes it was you. But for whatever reason, each attempt ended in failure.

Oh well. It was likely for the best. At least you would be able to enjoy the rest of your evening in solitude instead of enduring a potentially disastrous date. And as for your attire, it certainly didn’t hurt to feel sexy, even if you had no one to share it with.

You loved this place. The atmosphere, the music… you’d even managed to make friends with the bartender Hizashi to the point that he’d walk you to your car on the nights that you stayed until closing.

Your eyes scanned around the room, observing. Wooden tables littered the main floor, where small lit candles cast yellow light on observing faces, eyes trained on the musicians. Booths lined along the far wall, filled mostly with men who puffed cigars over a game of cards, their raucous laughter carrying through the din. Closer to the bar was an arrangement of tall, round tables with matching bar height chairs. A group of women, likely on a ladies’ night out, filled the table closest to you, taking shots and laughing, their heels perched on the rungs. Waiters zigzagged their way through the crowd with expert precision, platters held high with drinks and snacks, while patrons milled about, waiting for an open table.

And, of course, there was the stage itself, where the jazz band finished their final piece before collecting their instruments and leaving the small stage. All that was left from their departure was a black baby grand piano, property of the club. Your pulse quickened as you checked your watch. Was it that time already?

Not a moment later, there he was. Long, black, wavy hair pulled back into a half ponytail, the hint of a 5 o’ clock shadow dusting his jawline and framing his lips. He was dressed in simple clothes, as always… a black v-neck shirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms and dark jeans. He entered the stage without so much a glance towards the busy room, instead making his way to the piano with his hands in his pockets. He sat down and from your position at the bar, you could barely see his long fingers arrange themselves at the keys, gently curled.

As soon as he began to play, the mood in the club shifted slightly from buzzing to relaxing. The flow of his fingers across the keys drew a lazy melody reminiscent of rainy days and hot coffee; of snuggling under warm blankets, feet intertwined with a lover who danced their fingers across your skin, gently tickling your flesh the way his fingers tickled those keys.

Aizawa Shouta.

Of course you knew his name. The first time you’d heard him play, you’d felt weightless, your body going numb as every sensation coalesced into your chest like the forming of a star. The question of his identity had fallen from your lips before you’d even realized it, and it had been Hizashi who’d answered you, a chuckle on his lips.

Fuck. It felt like he was making love to you through the notes, each key meticulously selected like a carefully-worded love letter. It made your palms sweat against your glass, your breath hitching in your throat as that familiar sensation took you over, holding you hostage.

This. This was probably why none of the people you dated ever seemed to work out. You’d tried… God, you’d tried… some of them were nice, good people. But you couldn’t help but search for that feeling – this feeling – each time you met someone new. And every single time it fell short. It was an impossible standard, an invisible bar that no one was able to jump. Deep down you knew this, yet you couldn’t figure out how to let it go. It was just music, right? Played by a handsome man who didn’t even know you existed. But you didn’t want to let go of this feeling, to settle for someone that made you feel only an inkling of what he made you feel. Or worse, to let it go and be left with emptiness.

You had no solutions. You were trapped in Aizawa’s maze of music, unwilling to find your way out as his notes weaved a cage around your heart.

You lost yourself to his melody, the club around you fading away. Time lost its meaning as you watched his hands dance along the keys, his fingers nimble. His half-lidded eyes were fixed on the instrument before him, his expression neutral. To anyone else watching, he would look almost bored; but you’d seen him play often enough that you’d grown accustomed to reading the nuances of his body language, even across the smoky haze. You knew his look of boredom was really a look of focus as he submerged himself in his art, his hands playing on instinct, a direct link between what he felt and what he expressed.

He loved what he did.

And you loved watching.

Hizashi’s voice interrupted your hypnosis. “Another night solo, huh?”

You took a look at the bartender as he prepped some cocktails for some waiting patrons. He had his wire-framed spectacles on again, the orange tinted ones, the color visible from the white backlight of the bar. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wore a pinstriped shirt adorned with a black waistcoat.

You chuckled and took a sip of your drink. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

“You got stood up again?” You shrugged and Hizashi shook his head slightly. “If they ain’t willing to show up, then they ain’t worth your time.”

“Probably more like the other way around, don’t ya think?” you replied wryly.

Hizashi scoffed. “Don’t let them get to you. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

You grinned and set your glass down. “Are you flirting with me, Hizashi?”

He grinned back and winked at you through his spectacles. “Always, darlin’.”

You chuckled and returned your eyes to the stage. “It’s okay…” you said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time I stopped trying.”

“Mhm…” Hizashi watched you stare at Aizawa and he raised an eyebrow. “Y’know, I can get you an introduction if you’d like…”

“What??”

“Don’t play coy with me, darlin’. You know who I’m talking about. If you want to meet him, I can introduce you to him. We’re good friends, he and I. Known each other for years.” He commented.

You weren’t surprised by this news… you’d seen Aizawa join Hizashi at the bar on rare occasions after his performance was done. But you’d always been occupied at a table with company when it happened.

Watching him from a distance was one thing. But actually meeting him? Up close? Where you couldn’t hide your girlish infatuation?

You felt your pulse quicken with dread, heat flooding your body. “No, it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him.”

Hizashi gave you a skeptical look over the rim of his glasses before he shrugged. “Suit yourself, darlin’.”

The blonde stepped away, a new group of customers hollering for his attention. You took a large gulp of your drink hoping it would quell your nerves at the thought of meeting the man on stage. No. You definitely didn’t want to meet him. The last thing you needed was for your interaction with him to be a dud just like it was with all the others, destroying your own secret little fantasy. He was handsome to look at. And you fantasized about his skilled hands when you were in the quiet of your bedroom. But that was all it was; just harmless daydreams over someone you didn’t really know or plan to get to know. Besides, if you’d ever thought you had a chance with him, you certainly wouldn’t be trying to meet people through a dating app.

Gradually the time ticked by as you enjoyed watching the dark-haired man play, Hizashi stopping in to check on you from time to time and place fresh drinks in front of you. You were content for the time being, enjoying the steady buzz you were maintaining as you enjoyed the ambiance. Occasionally you people watched or engaged in conversation with Hizashi when he wasn’t busy… but for the most part, you relaxed as you observed the raven-haired pianist, letting his music ease the tension in your shoulders as the alcohol warmed your bones.

A few hours later, as you were busy talking with Hizashi, the final note on the piano rang out, signaling the end of Aizawa’s shift. The sudden silence hit you like a bucket of ice water, and your eyes darted towards the stage, your heart pumping panic through your veins. You had planned to leave just before his shift ended, just to make sure you didn’t run into him. Maybe it was the daydreaming, or the conversations with Hizashi, or the alcohol... but you’d lost track of time. Now you could only watch and wait to see where he’d end up, hoping beyond hope that he’d disappear like he usually did. Only rarely did he linger for a drink. What were the odds, right?

Tonight was one of those rarities, and you held your breath, your posture going rigid, as he sat himself a mere two seats away from you. He never once looked at you, instead, addressing Hizashi.

“Old Fashioned.” He requested, his voice deep. It sent a shiver down your spine as the blood in your veins turned molten. You knew instantly that that sound was now committed to memory.

“Do you even need to ask?” Hizashi replied with a grin as he slid the drink to him.

You disciplined your eyes to stare at your own drink as if it’d open up a portal for you to escape through. But as much as you struggled to control yourself, the simple gesture of Aizawa reaching for his drink made you break eye contact with your own. Your eyes caught how his fingers circled around his glass, long and surprisingly manicured. You couldn’t help but watch as he brought the drink up to his lips to take a sip, and from there your gaze followed the curve of his mouth, the stubble that framed it, his jawline, his eyes…

Your eyes made contact with his briefly and you quickly looked back down at your drink, your heart pounding in your chest.

Shit. He caught you staring.

You took a couple of deep swigs, forcing the alcohol down your tight throat, letting the burn of it act as a punishment for your violation. This. This was why you didn’t want to meet him. No words had even been shared yet and you were already making a fool of yourself.

“Long night?” Hizashi asked him. In the background, the next performer entered the stage and began to play, and you couldn’t help but strain your ears over the music to listen for Aizawa’s answer.

“I’ve had worse…” Aizawa replied. “You?”

“Busy, but I’m in good company at least.” Hizashi replied. Your heart pounded in your chest as your fingers tightened around your glass. Your eyes darted up to lock with the bartender’s and you caught him smirking at you, his small, pointed mustache following the curve of his upper lip.

He wouldn’t…

Suddenly another customer called for him from the other end of the bar. “Duty calls, friend. Be back in a sec.”

And just like that, you were left alone with him. Aizawa. Your mind froze as it warred with itself between actually talking with him or grabbing your things and running away. Surely Hizashi would understand, right? And you could always pay back your tab later. You took another deep gulp of alcohol in the hopes that it’d burn away some of your cowardice.

Before you could so much as open your mouth, the unwelcome sensation of an unfamiliar hand on the curve of your back made your body go rigid, every muscle poised to fight. A second later, the scent of hot breath laced in the stench of alcohol choked the air around you as an unfamiliar man slid into the open seat between you and the object of your affection.

“Hey there beautiful…” he slurred. “You’ve been by yourself all night… you in need of some company?”

You covered your hand over your glass and shifted away from him slightly, your demeanor cold. “No.”

“Aw, c’mon doll… don’t be like that…” he grinned. “You don’t come here dressed like that for no good reason…”

The man’s hand was still on your back, its presence making your skin crawl. It made the fog of your buzz lifting slightly, your senses suddenly heightened in the presence of a potential threat. Your eyes searched frantically for Hizashi. He had a way of handling drunken idiots. But he was stuck at the other end of the bar still, a drunk woman trying desperately hard to flirt with him.

You were on your own, and this creep clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. Your brain started to fabricate worst-case scenarios and planning for them, a million options running through your mind. Screaming. Throwing your drink in his face. A well-placed kick to his shin. Your pepper spray.

Your free hand slipped into your purse, fingers closing around you’re the plastic cylinder. The feel of it gave you a sense of security, even if it might be a last resort. You didn’t really want to use it, especially with Aizawa sitting behind him… you never had to use it before, and you couldn’t guarantee your accuracy, especially in such a tight space.

You watched from the corner of your eye as the man’s free hand reached forward to grasp your own that covered your drink, and your grip around the cylinder tightened, a warning beginning to fall from your lips. But your words were cut short as the man’s hand was suddenly grabbed by familiar, long fingers and bent back at an uncomfortable angle that made the drunk cry out.

“Hey! What the hell?!” the man demanded.

Aizawa took a casual sip of his drink with his free hand while maintaining his grip on the offender, before pinning him with a dangerous glare. “She said no.”

The man’s hand left your back as he struggled to free himself from Aizawa’s grip. “Let go!”

“First you will apologize to her.” Aizawa ordered.

The man sputtered. “For what?!”

You watched in shock as Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. His thumb positioned itself on a digit and began pushing it slowly backward.

“For touching her without permission. For insinuating that her attire makes it acceptable for you to ignore her boundaries. For being a disgusting pig.”

With each statement, he pushed the finger back farther and farther, until the man was buckling to his knees under the pressure in an attempt to alleviate the pain and prevent the digit from breaking.

“Ow ow ow! Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The man begged.

Aizawa held him for a moment longer before finally releasing him. “Good. Now get out.”

The man scurried away until he was out of reach before turning around to glare daggers at him. “Hey, fuck you man!” He shouted. But for all of his drunken bravado, he stormed out of the club clutching his sore hand to his chest, as heads turned to watch him leave.

The hum of voices within the club fell silent for a moment, with only the band continuing their music. After the front door closed, the noise of people chattering slowly returned, countless sets of eyes turning back to their tables. Aizawa turned his gaze back to you, the lethal look gone from his dark eyes.

“You okay?”

You nodded mutely, swallowing the dryness in your throat as your sweaty hand released the pepper spray in your purse. Sensations warred within you, momentarily leaving you a confused mess. The speed at which he came to your defense and his willingness to resort to violence on your behalf fueled a carnal need you didn’t even realize you had. But even as hot arousal pooled deep in your gut, your heart still raced from the threat that had been quickly neutralized.

His eyes caught the movement of something over your shoulder and he cursed. “Shit.”

“SHOuTA!” Scolded a feminine voice.

He turned back to his drink, hunching his shoulders. “I told her not to call me that in public.” Aizawa muttered under his breath.

You spun on your stool to see the owner of the bar, Nemuri Kayama approaching, clad in a deep purple business suit with a dangerously low-cut black blouse. She was next to you in a matter of seconds, a cloud of strong perfume enveloping you as she snatched Aizawa’s drink from his hand as he began to raise it to his lips.

“What the hell was that?!” She demanded. “What makes you think you can attack my customers like that?”

“Your customer was harassing this customer.” Aizawa pointed out.

Nemuri looked at you with her lavender eyes as if seeing you for this first time and paused in her verbal assault.

“Is this true?” She asked you.

She had a presence about her that instantly made you find your voice again.

“He was being handsy and wasn’t taking no for an answer.” You confirmed.

“Can I have my drink back now?” Aizawa asked.

She stared back and forth between the two of you for a moment before slamming the glass down in front of him, half of the contents spilling over the side. “Ugh. Fine. But next time ask for one of my bouncers. Or Hizashi. Or me. Anyone but you.”

Aizawa’s mouth curled with a sly grin as he wiped at the spill with a napkin. “And why is that?”

“Because you scare away customers.” She growled.

Aizawa stared into his drink, swirling its remaining contents. “Well maybe you need better customers.” He took a sip.

“I’ll take whoever is willing to pay. Unfortunately for you, this club doesn’t survive off of chivalry.” She crossed her arms. “Besides… it’s less about losing that drunken idiot and more about losing those who saw you almost break his hand.”

“I wasn’t going to break his hand. I was going to break his finger.” Aizawa said.

You stifled a chuckle with a bite of your lip.

Nemuri rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Don’t try to make it sound like that makes it any better. And you!” She pointed at Hizashi, who had conveniently shown up not a minute before. “You know better than to leave him alone like this!”

“I can either be a bartender or a babysitter, love. I can’t do both.” Hizashi replied as he polished a glass.

Nemuri grumbled under her breath before turning her gaze back to you. “I apologize for Aizawa’s violent behavior.” “Oh I didn’t mind…” you confessed with a small smile, and you could feel Aizawa’s eyes flicker to you briefly.

“And I apologize for the inappropriate customer. Alcohol is no excuse for harassment. I guarantee he won’t be returning to this club any time soon.” She looked at Hizashi. “Get her a fresh drink.”

“Already on it…” He replied, sliding a new glass to you and removing your old one.

She looked back at you. “And your drinks are on the house tonight.”

“Thank you.” You replied.

Nemuri gave a satisfied nod. “Now I need to go schmooze the rest of our frightened patrons, which is exactly how I didn’t want to spend my evening.” With a final glare at the two men, she stormed off, her pointed heels clicking on the hard floor.

You stared at your new drink for a moment, the desire for it lost now. “Hizashi, can I have a glass of water?”

“Sure thing, darlin’.” Hizashi replied and placed a chilled glass in front of you.

You thanked him and took a sip followed by a long, deep breath. Aizawa moved into the now-vacant seat next to you, and you welcomed the closeness. The gesture felt protective, a warning to anyone else who was dumb enough to try their luck with you after that display. Noticing the closer proximity between the two of you, Hizashi quickly made himself scarce again.

“Thank you…” you said to Aizawa as your finger traced patterns into the condensation on the glass.

“It was nothing…” he replied. There was a long silence before he spoke again. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

You looked at him with surprise then. Scared? No. Aroused? Definitely. The dampness of your panties were evidence enough of that, but he certainly didn’t need to know that.

“Not at all.” You confessed. “I actually really appreciate it.”

Aizawa’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as if a weight had been lifted.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” you asked. “You were so fast…”

Aizawa gave a small grin. “Piano isn’t the only thing I’m good at…”

You had no difficulty believing that…

“Were you a bouncer or something at one point?” you asked curiously.

Aizawa chuckled. “Yeah, something like that…” he took a swig of his drink, the ice in it clinking. The amber colored liquid was nearly gone now.

His response only gave you more questions, but you forced them down. There was a fine line between being curious and nosey, and you were too worried of crossing it, thus ending your conversation with him.

“You’re a regular here.” He commented.

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. He recognized you. You averted your eyes away in embarrassment, feeling suddenly exposed, your anonymity blown. How long had he noticed you’d been coming here? Did he know how closely you watched him?

“Yeah.” You confessed, as you took another sip of water. The alcohol next to it was calling to you, promising to ease your anxiety, but you refrained for the moment. You wanted to keep your wits about you while you talked to him.

“No company tonight?” he asked.

Oh. He watched you more closely than you ever realized. You weren’t sure whether you were feeling embarrassed or aroused. Was it possible to feel both?

“Not this time. I got stood up.” You replied.

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet there.” He said, looking into his empty glass.

You gave a dry laugh. “True. I’ve dodged lots of bullets lately.”

Aizawa chuckled. “I believe it…”

Contrary to his outward aloof demeanor, he was nice. You could feel the tension in your body start to dissipate as words came easier.

“If you ever think you want to try a dating app, don’t.” you commented. “It makes for good stories, but sometimes it really makes you want to give up on humanity.”

That earned an honest laugh as he looked at you with a grin. “Well now you’ve piqued my curiosity.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. This actually wasn’t so bad…

With amusement, you began to recount some of your more outlandish dating disasters with him, letting him in on the world of online dating from a woman’s perspective. Aizawa listened with quiet interest, making the occasional wry joke or, for the more serious cases, wearing a deep frown of disapproval. He was a good listener, and the conversation flowed easier than you had expected, words falling from your mouth without a second thought. It felt natural. Comfortable. And for the first time in a while, you felt like yourself. After you ran out of stories, Aizawa offered a couple of his own, and you found yourself laughing at his own tales of dating woes. As Aizawa talked, Hizashi stopped by to quietly replace his empty drink before disappearing again, a pleased smile on his face. His brief presence reminded you of your own glass pooling condensation on the paper coaster beneath it, and you returned to sipping its contents, once again finding the buzz you had been enjoying as you listened to Aizawa.

The time passed by as the two of you talked about the stress of dating and relationships. You’d learned that Aizawa rarely dated, but would occasionally have to endure awkward matchups thanks to Hizashi and Nemuri. You learned how much of a private person he was, how he generally avoided dating culture entirely in favor of letting life play out on its own. Everything about him exuded a man of experience and maturity, a man comfortable in his own skin and content with his life. You couldn’t help but admire him as you soaked in every little detail that you’d wanted to know, committing every little bit of information he offered up to memory. He was everything you’d imagined; kind, respectful, and serious with a sly sense of humor that he only shared once he was feeling comfortable.

Once the topic was exhausted, you sighed. “I think I’m done with dating.” You confessed. “I’ll just resign myself to my singlehood.”

Aizawa pinned you with a pensive look. “Is that what you want?”

Something about the tone of his voice made your pulse race with excitement.

“Well… It’s better than being repeatedly disappointed.” You gave him a side glance as you took sip of your drink. “But if the right guy comes along, I wouldn’t say no…”

“Hm… the right guy…” Aizawa muttered as he returned his gaze to his glass.

Your statement was a bold one, filled with invitation. You hadn’t exactly planned for it to come out that way, but it was too late to take those words back now. You quickly tried to turn the topic back to him. “How about you? Any special someone for you?”

He chuckled. “No. No special someone. Not yet, at least.”

The words fell from his mouth like breadcrumbs leading to a secret as he eyed you over the rim of his glass. You felt lightheaded and warm, the tips of your fingers buzzing with numbness. Maybe it was the half-finished drink in your hand. Or maybe it was the look in Aizawa’s eyes that made you feel drunk, the Earth spinning under your feet as you mentally struggled to find some sort of purchase to keep from falling.

Was he…?

Hope held you captive and you suddenly became acutely aware of how close you were to him. Your eyes traced the scruff on his jawline, the stitching of his shirt, the slope of his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. A stray strand of hair had come loose from his half-ponytail and was hanging over his forehead, begging to be touched. Your fingers twitched. If you reached out to tuck it back into place, would he let you?

You couldn’t muster the courage and averted your eyes. You were filled with alcohol and infatuation, you reasoned. Your defenses were down, your judgment potentially impaired… what if you were reading into something that wasn’t there? What if you were wrong?

You watched Hizashi close out a tab for an older couple as you took a sip of your water.

Warmth pressed against your forearm and looked down to see Aizawa’s arm resting against yours. All of your attention honed in on the softness of his shirtsleeve and the warmth of his skin as his hand fiddled with a paper coaster, flipping it over and over with each tap on the counter. The contact was intentional, calculated in its subtle intimacy. It was a silent question… a tentative invitation, absent of assumptions or expectations. Your doubt evaporated like mist and you understood.

He was interested. In you.

Your heart did a somersault in your chest as you sat there, stunned. Time froze as everything that’d transpired throughout the evening flitted through your mind. It was a perfect amalgamation of circumstances, leading to this single moment, giving you the one thing you wanted most. You held your breath as you stood on the precipice, uncertain if your next step would make you fall or let you fly.

You stared at the contact and carefully… slowly… brushed your pinky along the back of his hand. It traced the vein that stood out there, following it to the knuckle. His own hand let go of the coaster his was holding, his own pinky linking with yours in affirmation.

You couldn’t help the elated smile that spread across your face in that moment and when you looked up at him with a shy glance, he had a smile of his own, small and secretive as he stared at your linked fingers. Slowly the rest of his fingers followed, twining themselves into yours until he held your hand, his thumb brushing sensually against your skin. That single action alone was enough to reignite the fire in your loins, your blood racing through your veins from the epicenter of his touch.

Hizashi’s voice crashed through your private, titillating moment. “We’re closing up, lovebirds…”

Your hand pulled away from Aizawa’s on instinct as you looked around the now empty club. Only staff remained, finalizing the last bit of cleanup and arranging the furniture for the next day. How had it gotten so late so fast?

“You want me to walk you to your car?” Hizashi asked, a knowing grin on his face.

In all that had happened that evening, you’d forgotten about that little arrangement. But you weren’t ready to leave just yet…

Aizawa’s voice answered before yours could. “Leave me the keys to the place. I’ll walk her tonight and lock up when we leave.”

“Suit yourself.” Hizashi replied with a shrug. He placed a set of keys on the counter. “Don’t tell Nemuri, though. She’ll kill me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, friend.” Aizawa replied.

With that, Hizashi gave a small salute, grabbed his coat, and left. You watched, your heart pounding as the door closed behind him, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.

You were alone with Aizawa. Completely and utterly alone.

Your turned back to face him and froze. Aizawa still sat on his stool, but he faced you now with an elbow propped against the counter, and that simple distinction made his presence fill your space. He stared at you, the look in his eyes unfettered now, deep and hungry. “You really do look beautiful tonight.” He complimented.

With the way the words fell from his mouth and curled warmly into your chest like a cat, you believed him. You felt beautiful.

“Thank you.” You said with a soft smile. “You look handsome yourself, Aizawa.”

He took your hand again and slowly began to lean forward, closing the small distance between you. “Call me Shouta.”

You swallowed. “Shouta.” You whispered, feeling the name on your lips.

His dark pupils dilated and you felt his other hand on your jawline, warm, long fingers wrapping towards the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were warm and soft as his stubble tickled your skin, and you leaned into it fervently, your hands finding their home on his chest. You could feel his toned muscles beneath the black cotton and a purr found its way to the back of your throat. Shouta took it as an invitation, coming off of his barstool to stand between your now parted legs, his arm wrapping itself around your waist as his tongue slid along your lips. You opened your mouth eagerly to taste the bourbon there, to feel the wet muscle dance and slide against your own. Every touch, every taste, every smell enveloped you further and further in the essence that was Shouta until your entire body was singing, teetering on the edge.

Oh God… you were not going to let yourself cum just by kissing him.

You pulled out of the kiss slightly as your hands pressed gently against his chest, and he retreated from you just enough for his eyes to search your face, a silent question in them.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…” your words fell pitifully from your flushed, wet mouth, your voice shaky with pent-up arousal.

One second longer. One second longer is all it would have taken…

Shouta’s hand on your back began to rub soft, slow circles. “Would you like some water?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

You nodded, and he kissed your forehead before handing you your glass. You drank greedily before handing it back to him, half-empty.

“Have you ever been kissed like that?” he asked curiously, as he placed the glass back down onto the counter.

You gave a small laugh and shook your head. “No… not like that.”

Your confession left you feeling embarrassed, even as your chest felt it would burst from this latest turn of events.

You kissed Aizawa Shouta.

Actually, he kissed you.

You needed a moment to collect yourself, to process everything you were feeling.

So, you completely changed the subject.

“How long have you been playing piano?” you asked.

Shouta didn’t miss a beat, returning to sit on his stool to give you the space you silently needed. But his hand still held yours, resting on the counter as his fingers twined with yours. It gave you a sense of reassurance, that everything was okay, despite your awkward hesitation.

“My grandpa had one when I was a kid. Used to mess around on it.” He explained. “He finally got me lessons from a guy he knew, and I’ve loved it ever since.”

You smiled as you watched his thumb trace across each of your fingernails. You returned the gesture, tracing the details of his own hand. It was like living a dream, to see them up close and feel them, every fingernail, every vein, even the pads of his fingertips. The number of times you’d fantasized about these hands…

“I always wanted to learn how to play, but my family could never afford lessons.” You confessed. “But my mom used to have all of these old jazz albums, and I used to sit in my room and listen to them for hours.”

“I can teach you.”

Your fingers stopped their tracing. “What?”

“I can teach you.” He repeated.

You shook your head. “Um, no it’s okay… I’d probably be a terrible student anyway.”

“A student can only be as bad as the person teaching them. Follow me.”

Before you could protest further, Shouta’s hand closed around yours and pulled you from your seat. He led you up the steps of the stage and across it until you reached the black piano sitting forlornly in the empty space.

It felt strange being up on the stage, especially with the club being completely empty. The stage light was bright and warm on your shoulders, and the silence sounded different there, affected by the difference in acoustics.

Shouta sat at one end of the black bench and pulled you down by your hand until you were sitting next to him. The bench was small, meant for only one person, so you had to press yourself against him to be able to sit without feeling like you were going to fall off. Even then, it wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but you endured, if only to be close to him.

He released your hand and began his instruction.

“First thing you should know is how to find middle C. Everything else will center around this.” He pressed the white key with the thumb of his right hand, the note singing out into the empty space. “Then, it’s D, E, F, G, A, B, which brings you back to C. That creates an octave, also known as a scale.” He played each note as he spoke.

“What about the black keys?” you asked curiously.

“Those are the half notes. Don’t worry about those right now.” He arranged his hand back how he initially had it, his thumb on the middle C key.

“Now,” he continued, “First, you must learn how to move your fingers along the keys. Like this.” Shouta demonstrated the motion again, his fingers playing each note slowly in a steady rhythm. “The switch of the fingers is important. It will help you flow quickly and easily without having to watch where your hands are, which will be important for reading sheet music.” He repeated the motion again, the sounds once again ringing out. Then, he removed his hand. “Your turn.”

You bit your lip and placed your hand how you’d seen his arranged and tried. The notes were clumsy, lacking in rhythm and falling together as you forgot in your nervous haze where the switch of the fingers happened. Embarrassment flooded you and you withdrew your hand.

“Don’t expect to get it right on the first try.” He reassured. “Let’s try it again. Try to keep your fingers loose, curved like a bowl.”

Shouta modeled it again. You watched, but your focus was muddled with anxiety, attraction, and likely alcohol. It was a poor recipe for learning, but you knew he was trying to make you feel comfortable, and you didn’t want to turn down his kindness. You arranged your hand back on the keys again and tried again, with little improvement.

“I’m sorry, I…” you stuttered as you clutched your hand in your lap protectively.

His hand covered yours and you looked up at him to see him staring at you with warm patience. “It’s okay. If you don’t want to do this, we can stop.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly open as you thought about it. You knew he wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to quit. And sure, you felt silly being so poor at it when sitting next to someone who’s skills you idolized.

But did you really want to stop? How often would you get an opportunity like this?

“No, it’s okay. Keep going, I want to learn.” You replied.

Shouta watched you for a moment longer before he placed his hand back on the keys. “Place your hand over mine.”

You followed his instructions, your hand looking small compared to his. His skin was warm, and it calmed the shaking in your fingers.

“Watch where the fingers land. Feel how they move.” He played the notes, and you could feel the tendons of his hand tense and shift, his fingers rising and falling like a wave.

“It’s like they’re dancing.” You said. “You switch to your thumb on this key… E?”

“Yes.” Shouta replied in approval. “Your turn.”

This time you focused, remembering the feel of how his hand had moved under yours as you played the keys, switching your fingers at the right time. The improvement was noticeable.

He smiled. “Good. Now, for the other hand. You’ll start one octave lower. Can you find it?”

Your arm crossed Aizawa’s chest to press the white key, letting the sound ring out.

“Perfect. Only this time, your pinky will sit on this key, with the others following after.”

You placed your fingers across the white keys. “Like this?”

Shouta nodded. “Now you’ll try the same progression with your left hand. The middle finger will follow after the thumb plays the G note.”

You removed your hand so he could place his own and demonstrate it for you. You followed after him, imitating his actions, but this time your attempt was worse than your first, your hand angled awkwardly due to limited space as you pressed yourself against him.

“That was terrible.” You laughed. “I can’t reach very easily.”

A small mischievous smile formed on Shouta’s lips and he slipped his hand around your waist.

“Come here.” He said.

You didn’t fight him as he pulled you into his lap. His right hand settled itself against your stomach as his legs parted slightly to make room for yours, your knees drawn together between his. The heat of his touch seeped through the fabric of your dress, weaving a tight knot of desire deep in your core that made your body go rigid as you tried to keep yourself from melting against him.

“Is this okay?” He asked, leaning slightly to see your face from his position behind you.

You licked your lips and swallowed, giving a nod. “Y-Yes…” you answered shakily. “Are you okay…? I’m not too heavy?”

Shouta gave a soft laugh. “No. Not at all.” His breath was hot against your skin and you could feel the scratch of his stubble as he spoke, sending goosebumps over your body. “Let’s continue.”

He placed his left hand on the keys again with ease, regardless of how poor his view of the piano was with you in front of him. He knew this instrument like the back of his hand; could probably play it with his eyes closed and never miss a note.

He played the simple notes again, C through B, fingers tip-toeing across the keys as he said their names out loud, helping you to remember them. You watched carefully for where the shift in finger arrangement happened, the middle finger following after the thumb just as he’d described.

“You try.” He instructed, his right arm still wrapped around your waist, holding you close against him. You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back now, feel the strength of his body beneath you.

You loved this. The lap-sitting, the lesson, the praise. Each time Shouta praised your improvements it sent a thrill through you from your head down to your toes. To be complimented by him, even for something as simple as pressing a few keys… it only made you want to please him more.

You played the progression of notes with renewed motivation, once again showing improvement from your first attempt.

“Good.”

Your spine straightened against him slightly. The thumb of his hand caressed your abdomen where he held you.

“Now you need to learn to do the same but in reverse, until you’re back where your fingers started.”

You moved your hand away to let him demonstrate and his right hand left your stomach, leaving an ache in its wake. You watched both of his hands play the simple notes up and down, working together with ease. But you knew it was all a ruse… he made it look easy, but if you tried to do the same, you’d fumble clumsily.

“I don’t know about this…” you chuckled.

“It takes practice,” he replied, “until it becomes muscle memory.”

Shouta demonstrated it again, up and down. And again.

You placed your hands over his, wanting to feel the touch of his hands under yours more than the actual pressing of the keys. All you wanted was his arm around your waist again, his hand on your lower abdomen. His touch was tantalizing, and you wanted more of it.

He completed the simple scale progression two more times with your hands on top of his.

“Do you want to try?” he offered.

His hands left the keys to hold you again, his arms wrapped more tightly around you this time. You leaned against him, reveling in being held in his arms.

“I’m going to mess up.” You warned.

“Just take it slow.”

You shook your head a little and let out a small breath, shifting your position in his lap slightly as you leaned forward to focus on the keys. His arms loosened around you, his hands shifting to your thighs.

It was likely an innocent action, intended to give you the freedom to move as you made yourself comfortable. But as soon as the tips of his fingers touched the bare skin below the hem of your dress, that sharp zap of arousal tingled the ends of your nerves, causing you to suck in air and part your knees slightly, your walls throbbing in hopeful anticipation.

It wasn’t intentional. Your body just… reacted. But Shouta noticed instantly.

There was silence at first, his hands still on your thighs, waiting. Finally, he spoke. “Y/N….” his voice was huskier now. “How long has it been since you’ve been cared for?”

Embarrassment flooded through you. Embarrassment at your sensitivity to his touch, embarrassment at the answer to his question... You hesitated a moment before words fell clumsily from your mouth. “I, um… a long time.”

A low hum rumbled from Shouta’s chest as his fingers brushing gently along the inside of your thighs until they dipped just beneath the black fabric. The action was experimental, a testing of the waters, and it brought immediate results. Your thighs widened the slightest bit more as you failed to fight back a whimper, your hands grasping his arms in need. Not a moment later you could feel the growing firmness of his cock begin to press against your backside, despite the restriction of Shouta’s jeans. Shouta’s hands halted again their movement, waiting. He was miraculously under control despite his obvious arousal, and you envied him.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice low.

Of course you did. It was obvious you did. Why else would your legs be parting like the red sea as if he were Moses?

But for some reason, your body language wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hear it. A sense of urgency filled you, desperate need driving you. At this point, you’d give him whatever he wanted…

“Yes.” you begged. “Please, Shouta... Please touch me.” You leaned back against him, allowing the angle of your hips to tilt as your hands guided him further beneath the skirt of your dress.

With you draped onto him, your head tilted back, Shouta kissed the curve of your neck as his hands gently gripped the insides of your knees, pulling your legs apart until they were draped over his own. You were open for him now, your skirt hiked halfway up by the spread of your legs.

Your heart pounded in your chest with so much excitement that you could feel your own pulse in your neck and between your legs. This was happening… This was really happening… How many times had you fantasized about this very thing? How many times had you longed for this man, whispered his name on your tongue only to be met by the empty silence? And now here he was, freeing you from the shackles of your loneliness in the best way possible.

Shouta’s hands pushed the fabric up the rest of the way until it was pooled around your hips, exposing your panties. The thin cotton fabric did little to protect your aching cunt from the cold air, and you sucked air through your teeth at the sensation. His fingers traced invisible lines up the inside of your thighs, leaving nothing but singing nerves in their wake that cascaded into a shiver that rolled over your flesh, leaving goosebumps. Your body was already moving of its own volition, hips rolling, eager for Shouta’s fingers yet simultaneously attempting to grind down onto his restrained cock. Your breaths were already coming in hot and ragged, every inch of you frantic for the release that it had been denied all evening.

Shouta gave a low growl, his left hand holding down your hip, halting your movements. “You better stop that…” he warned.

No doubt your girating was making things difficult for him on his end. But you didn’t care. You were an unfettered, horny mess now.

A whine escaped your lips at his restriction. In response, Shouta’s left hand trailed up the length of your body, caressing over your breast before finding its home on your neck. His palm was against your voice box now, his fingers long enough to wrap around your throat and reach your jaw. There was no force in his hold, but it still held power over you, ushering your body into stillness while your chest heaved with heavy breaths.

“Patience.” He whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

Shouta followed up his words with more gentle kisses along your neck, your shoulder… wherever his lips could reach with you on his lap. The feel of his hand on your throat was a reminder of who was in control. But it was also a promise - a promise to ensure your needs would be met.

Once Shouta was sure he had your compliance, his right hand travelled the remaining distance of your inner thigh to arrive at your panties, where moist heat greeted him.

A low hum of approval rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your back. “You’re so wet.”

A pitiful “yes” was all you could muster before the tips of his fingers brushed gently against your clothed sex, stealing your voice and replacing it with a gasp.

Slowly Shouta pet you, his fingers stroking gentle circles over the wet cotton, teasing the sensitive flesh beneath. With his hand still on your neck, you kept your body torturously motionless as he gradually increased the pressure of his digits, reducing his speed as he passed over your clit to drag the pads of his fingers over the bundle of nerves.

You swallowed the pooling saliva in your mouth, the action causing your throat to press against his hand. “Please…” you begged. “I can’t…”

Shouta was strict, but not cruel. He obliged, slipping his fingers beneath the cotton to swim his digits into your juices, never breaking his circular, rhythmic motion over your slick entrance. The scent of your arousal surrounded both of you, thick and heavy.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he growled against your skin.

Two of his fingers dipped into you then, slow at first, allowing you to stretch around him as your walls quivered. Your thighs tensed at the intrusion, welcoming the stinging pressure as your core burned with fire. He withdrew his fingers slowly and you lifted your head to watch in carnal fascination to see his fingers shining wet down to the knuckles. He pushed them into you again, curling his fingers towards the sensitive, spongey tissue along the top of your walls, his thumb pressing down on your wet clit. A zap of stimulation fired from your core before fizzling away, a teasing warning of what was to come.

“Oh-Oh fuck…” you gasped as one hand reached back and grabbed a fistful of Shouta’s thick, dark hair.

He picked up his pace then, his thumb driving firm circles around your swollen pearl as the sounds of your wet hole being finger-fucked filled the silence of the empty stage. With each pass of his thumb, with each curl of his fingers, the heat grew hotter, your cunt swollen and burning with the need for release. Your thighs were tensed so tightly now that it made your legs lift and you had to brace your feet against the piano, discordant notes ringing out to join the sounds of your heavy pants and wet squelching in a lewd song. Shouta’s hand left your throat to hold you under your thigh to keep you steady as his other hand worked fast and hard to unravel you. With the absence of his touch on your neck, you were free to move your hips, grinding hard into his hand, his lap, whatever part of him you were touching. Your grip on his hair tightened, mirroring the tension building within you, clinging to him like the boughs of a tree knowing that any second the flood would come.

Shouta was your lifeline, your rock, your destroyer. You were the waves and he was the shore, and your body tensed to prepare itself to crash against him.

“Come on, baby…” Shouta whispered gruffly. “I’ve got you. Cum for me.”

You came with a cry, loud and frantic as your walls clamped down on his fingers. The ball of heat that you had been carrying like a stone exploded within you, incinerating every nerve from the inside out, leaving nothing but sweet, sharp, euphoria in its wake. Your walls spasmed repeatedly, sucking greedily on Shouta’s drenched fingers, as you cried and moaned, bucked and arched. Shouta’s arm was around your waist, holding you against him to keep you from sliding off of his lap as you rode the high of your orgasm, tumbling like a waterfall over and over again to finally become a puddle in his strong arms.

Shouta held you silently against him as your body twitched with aftershocks of pleasure. Once your spasms subsided and he was sure you wouldn’t fall from your perch, Shouta released his hold around your waist to draw his fingers up and down your arm, creating goosebumps under his gentle touch. His fingers were still in you, his hand cupped between your legs. The warmth of his touch on your tired cunt was comforting, and it brought forth a content moan from your parted lips. Shouta smiled as he planted another kiss on your shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that with him. But you finally made yourself sit up when you felt sleep starting to drag you down into its murky depths, your limbs feeling heavy.

Finally, Shouta spoke. “Better?” he asked.

You gave a laugh. “Much.” You looked down at yourself in amusement. “You made a mess of me, though…”

Shouta gave a satisfied hum and stared at his hand that held you. “I like you messy.” He stated.

“So, you’re just gonna leave me like this?” you teased.

He laughed and withdrew his fingers, wiping the slick coating them onto his jeans. “As much as I like that idea, no.” He adjusted your ruined underwear and the hem of your dress back into place before turning you around in his lap. His hands were planted on your rear, keeping you securely and comfortably in place. “It’s late. We should get you home.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. “What about you?” you asked, your eyes glancing down to his lap. Your hands began to trail down his chest to reach the button of his pants, eager to reciprocate.

Shouta smiled at you and grabbed your hands, bringing them back up to plant kisses on your palms. “Tonight was about you. There’ll be more opportunities for both of us later.” You pouted and he chuckled. “Don’t give me that face.”

“It hardly seems fair…” you muttered. You were looking forward to enjoying more of him… you didn’t want tonight to end.

He hummed as he began to trail kisses along your jawline and you arched your neck to allow him better access. “We both… need sleep.”

Sleep? With his mouth on your skin, sleep was the last thing on your mind. Shouta pulled his lips away to look into your eyes again and you could see the fatigue there, dark circles framing bloodshot eyes. He really did look incredibly tired, and you couldn’t help but wonder how late it really was. You brushed the errant strand of hair off of his forehead, tucking it behind his ear.

“Okay...” you softly agreed.

“You should come back tomorrow night.” He mused, the mischief back in his eyes. “We can continue our piano lessons.”

“I’d like that.” you smiled.

You couldn’t wait.

#aizawa shouta #Shouta Aizawa #Aizawa x reader #Aizawa x you #shouta x reader #Shouta x you #bnha smut #mha smut #aizawa smut #bnharem collab #Jazz Aizawa #Jazz AU #Music AU #BNHA music AU

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lightsupinthenorth · 4 years

Text

Read me like an open book part 1/2

Hey! :) Here is the first part of a two-part (at least I think ah ah) Harringrove fanfiction. It’s set a few years after the events of the third season (which Billy survived, obviously ^^). It starts on Steve’s birthday just because it’s my birthday today :p

I hope you’ll enjoy ;)

Read on AO3

“It’s presents time, bitches!” Robin said, getting up from the floor, where Steve was still sprawled with Billy half-laying on top of him.

They might have overdone it a little on the weed. Steve didn’t really care, though. He was relaxed and happy. So far, his twenty-first birthday had been the best birthday ever. Robin and Billy had organized a surprise gathering in their shared flat, inviting the kids, Nancy and Jonathan, as well as Joyce and Hopper. After everyone had left earlier in the evening, Robin had gone to her room and had come back with a bag of weed bought by Billy and her for the occasion, and they had gotten positively baked.

Billy and Robin had insisted to give him his present when it was just the three of them instead of doing it at the same time as the others. When Steve had seen the weed, he had understood why. So, he was confused when Robin mentioned presents.

“What presents?”

“Your birthday presents, dingus. I know you’re high right now, but I didn’t think you were high enough to forget your own birthday.” Robin cackled.

“Hey, I haven’t forgotten. I just kinda thought… wasn’t the weed the present?”

“Pfff, no.” Billy replied. “What kind of present would that be? As if we didn’t already smoke weed on the regular.”

He made them sound like potheads. They didn’t smoke that often… Then again, it did happen more frequently than their respective birthdays.

“Yo, Buckley, can you go to my room and fetch my present for Steve too, now that you’re at it. It’s in the drawer of my bedside table.” Billy yelled, a lot louder than was necessary considering Robin was just in the next room.

Steve whined. Billy’s voice was reverberating in his head.

“Sure, you lazy fuck.” She yelled back, just as loud.

They were so noisy!

“Open mine first!” Robin said as she sat down on the floor again, extending a rectangular package.

Steve had to detangle himself from Billy, ignoring his mumbled complaints, before he tore into the brightly colored wrapping paper. He uncovered a thick book with a beautiful cover representing a sky full of stars. It was titled Long live the King.

“I know you’ve taken to reading, these days, and this novel is amazing.” Robin assured.

“It’s really not that good.” Billy grumbled, with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh, you read it too?” Steve asked.

“Uh… yeah, I did.”

Billy was staring at Robin when he said it. And he was frowning.

“Don’t listen to him, Steve, he’s being a buzzkill. You’re going to love it.”

“I’m sure I will. Thanks Rob.” Steve hugged her.

He hoped Billy would still agree to help him with the book, even if he didn’t like it much. Ever since he knew Steve had trouble with written words, Billy would read to him all the time. It had become their thing. Steve loved his voice. Well, Steve loved everything about him, but that was off topic.

“Now, here’s Hargrove gift.”

Robin basically dropped the gift in Steve’s lap. The wrapping paper had multi-colored stars on it. Steve unraveled it carefully and found a set of pencils and a beautiful sketchbook. Billy and Robin’s gifts kind of coordinated aesthetically speaking, which was nice. Indeed, on the cover of the notebook was a drawing of the night sky, with the sea represented underneath. “My sea of stars”, was written on the front.

Steve used to doodle distractingly during class. He’d been doing it since primary school. After he had graduated, his doodling habit had spread to his daily life. He would draw lines absentmindedly while he was on the phone or trace random shapes on discarded pieces of paper when he was watching TV but was too fidgety to focus. He hadn’t been seriously committed to drawing, though. He had only started making it into a real hobby after Starcourt. Billy had been the one to suggest it, in fact. After he’d literally come back to life, Steve and he had become good friends, and Billy had noticed his little habit and had bought him a sketch pad. Drawing helped Steve a lot. Gave him something to do when he was feeling restless, which was the case more often than not after the whole ‘Upside-Down and co’ experience.

Steve was frustrated by his lack of technique, at first, and had almost given up on several occasions. But Billy had always been there to cheer him up and keep him going. He was certain Billy hadn’t even realized his compliments and encouragements had prevented Steve from calling it quits at least a dozen times. They spent hours together in their living room, on the couch, Steve drawing while Billy wrote in his huge notebook, with his feet on Steve’s lap. Steve was eager to spend many more hours that exact same way, drawing on the new sketchbook Billy had offered him.

“It’s… it’s really nice, Billy. I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Pretty boy.”

They hugged, and Billy didn’t let him go, half-climbing on him again as they laid back down.

“Ugh, guys, seriously, get a room.” Robin complained, which led to Steve blushing and Billy flipping her the bird.

Steve would have attributed Billy’s behavior to the weed, but they had gotten more and more tactile since the beginning of their friendship about two years prior, so the weed didn’t have much to do with it. Except that maybe Billy would have waited for Robin to go to bed before attaching himself to Steve like a koala, if he hadn’t been high.

Either way, Steve was far from complaining: the more Billy touched him, the better.

Before he went to bed that night, Steve took his secret sketchpad – the one in which he drew his best friend page after page (like an obsessed creep) – from under his mattress, and drew the version of Billy he had seen earlier: high Billy, with his lax body and hazy eyes.

A few minutes after putting his paper shrine back in its usual hiding spot, Steve fell asleep with a smile on his face, and the smell of Billy’s cologne on his own skin. He hoped all his birthdays to come would be similar to this one.

When Steve got up the next morning, Billy and Robin were eating breakfast in the kitchen.

He heard Billy say:

“Stop it, Robin. I can’t tell him, I just can’t.”

It made no sense to him, since he had missed the beginning of the conversation, but his interest was picked.

“You can’t tell who, what?” He asked as he went to the cupboard to get his favorite cereals. No way he would eat oatmeal like Robin and Billy. What a depressing way to start the day.

“I, uh…” Billy started. Robin interrupted him, though:

“He can’t tell his coworker that his new haircut looks stupid.”

“Yeah… ‘Cause it would be mean, you know.” Billy added, before putting a huge spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth.

“Uh… well, it’s true. It wouldn’t be a very nice thing to say, Rob.” Steve agreed.

He put his box of cereals on the table and sat down next to Robin, in front of Billy, who was looking intently at his bowl.

“Why do you think Billy should tell the poor guy his hair looks weird?”

If anyone said that to Steve, he’d be devastated. That was for sure.

“So he can let his hair grow back and have it cut in a more flattering way.” Robin explained. “It would be doing him a favor, in my opinion.”

Steve hummed. “Makes sense”, he said. He was more focused on his fruit loops, though. It wasn’t like he cared about the guy anyway. He hadn’t even met him.

Robin hadn’t either, so Steve didn’t know why she was so pressed on Billy giving him hair advice. Whatever floats her boat, he thought.

His roommates were weird, sometimes. Nothing could be done about it.

The next weekend, Steve and Billy were both off from their respective work, and Steve really wanted to start reading the book Robin had gotten him for his birthday.

Billy was occupied with a novel of his own next to him, and Steve didn’t want to be a burden, so he started reading on his own. After a few pages, he was already hooked, but he got tired quickly, as he always did. Frustrated, he fidgeted a bit on the couch and brought the book closer to his face, as if it would help the words stop swimming in front of his eyes.

Billy sighed.

“What’s up, Pretty boy?” He asked, only then looking up from his own reading.

“I just… would it be okay… would you read to me? Please.”

Billy sighed again, a bit louder. Steve’s face fell. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but Steve always looked forward to Billy reading out loud to him.

“Sorry… I know you don’t like this book… I’ll ask Robin to read it to me when she gets home.”

“No! I… I’ll do it, I’ll read for you. I really don’t mind.” Billy exclaimed.

Steve was agreeably surprised by the amount of enthusiasm Billy displayed and he smiled at him when he handed him the book, letting their hands brush.

“Thank you!”

Steve kissed Billy’s cheek and laid his head on his shoulder.

“Don’t mention it, Pretty boy.”

“Sure, I’ll mention it. It means a lot, you know.”

Billy cleared his throat. “Right… if you say so.”

Steve could feel the heat of Billy’s blush.

He always downplayed the nice things he did, but Steve wouldn’t have it. He would keep showing Billy he was grateful for every little (and not so little) attention. Declaring his undying love to him would be a very effective way to make Billy realize how much Steve really appreciated him, but that would also do a lot more harm than good. Steve had to focus on the big picture, here.

Billy began to read where Steve had stopped, and if Steve didn’t already know Billy disliked the book, he wouldn’t have been able to tell at all. He put his heart into it as he always did. Not only that, but Steve felt like Billy’s voice held even more emotion than it usually did.

Steve fell into a sort of trance. The story was told in first person, from the point of view of a magician in a fantasy land, and Steve imagined himself as the narrator. In his mind, he could see everything Billy was describing: the village, the fields, the magnificent castle surrounded by a dark forest in which creatures lurked, the King who lived in the castle and whom the enchanter was secretly in love with.

Hours passed before Billy stopped reading. Still, Steve had to refrain himself from begging for one more chapter. He couldn’t be greedy; he didn’t want Billy to tire of him.

“Here you go, Stevie.”

“That was great. You’re the best.”

“It’s just reading, Pretty boy. I didn’t hang the moon.” Billy mumbled.

Steve nearly said “You might as well have”, but said: “It’s far better than ‘just reading’”, instead. That was a close call.

They went to the kitchen to make dinner, and Robin came home from work right before the oven beeped.

Steve ate his meal slowly, without really tasting it, and he didn’t say much, letting Robin and Billy do most of the talking. He was still somewhere far away, in a fantasy land ruled by a beautiful king. And, if the king was a carbon copy of Billy, it was nobody’s business but Steve’s.

On Thursday, Billy went to Indianapolis, and Steve went with him. Apparently, Billy had been asked by his boss to go check and fix a few collection cars over there, and Billy had invited Steve to come with him. Said it would be fun. They’d spend the morning together and Billy would go to his work appointment after lunch.

“Not that I’m not glad to have the opportunity of going on a fun little trip or anything, but couldn’t that guy find a garage in Indianapolis to take care of his cars? There must be more than a few.” Steve asked Billy, who had just started the car.

“That’s because I’m the best in fucking Indiana, baby.” He said with a cocky grin.

Steve rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back his fond smile.

“Right. Forget I asked.”

“To answer more seriously, I don’t really know. But who gives a fuck? The guy paid extra… I mean like, a big wad of cash. So, fine by me.”

Billy shrugged.

Steve found it quite weird, but it was fine by him too. It wasn’t any of his business, anyway: he was just tagging along.

He turned the radio on, and then Billy and he bickered for ages about what station to choose. That was somewhat of a tradition every time they were in a car together.

“I’m driving, so I choose. It’s driver’s privilege, Pretty boy. Suck it up.”

“But that’s not fair!” Steve whined. “You insisted to drive, it’s not like I had a choice.”

“Too bad. You lose anyway.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and pouted, making Billy laugh. The cold bastard.

When they arrived in Indianapolis, Billy parked, and they chose a direction at random to go wander. Steve got caught up in some window-shopping, stopping abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at the newest Adidas sneakers behind the glass.

Steve used to be given everything he wanted. Well, everything he wanted that could be bought with money. Now that he didn’t speak to his parents anymore and was financially independent, however, he couldn’t afford many unnecessary expenses. These shoes sadly fell into the “unnecessary” category.

Billy had not immediately noticed Steve had stopped walking, so he had to go back on his tracks a little.

“Hey, Stevie, give a guy a warning, would you? I turned to talk to you and you were not there anymore.”

“Sorry, sorry. I was just… I wanted to take a look at these.” Steve pointed at the shoes. “I don’t know why I did, anyway… it’s not like I’m gonna buy them.”

“Right… it’s fine. Let’s go get lunch, Pretty boy.” Billy said, steering him away from the shop, but not without giving the shoes a good look himself.

They ate burgers and fries in a greasy joint they had stumbled upon. The food was pretty good. As a testament to that, Billy kept trying to steal fries off Steve’s basket. At first, Steve batted his hand away, but he gave up after a while. When Billy gave him a wide smile after finally succeeding, Steve couldn’t even be mad at him. He’d gave up all the fries in the world if it meant seeing Billy smile like that. Steve smiled back at him.

In the afternoon, while Billy was at work, Steve went to a coffee shop and bought a cappuccino for himself, and a giant raisin oatmeal cookie to go for Billy. He grimaced a little as he ordered the latter. Billy really had weird tastes, sometimes.

He sat down at a table and put the cookie in his backpack, before taking out his book. He progressed slowly, really slowly, only managing to read a chapter before he had to meet Billy back at the car. Yes, Steve had trouble with reading to begin with, but the fact that this book was making him emotional was not helping him read it any faster.

He related to the narrator a lot. He, too, was in love with someone close to him yet unreachable. He, too, had to admire them in silence. And the object of his love was as beautiful and as brave as the King was described to be. The only difference was that the King was said to have brown hair and eyes.

What the characters were going through also reminded him of what had happened because of the Upside-Down, in some way. Life in Hawkins was (or at least had been) so strange that it looked like something out of a fantasy novel. How wild was that? Steve mused, as he was waiting for Billy near his car.

When Billy made it to the car, he was carrying a thick brown envelope in his right hand and a paper bag in the left.

“Want some help with all that?” Steve asked.

“Uh… No, thank you. I’ll be fine.” Billy assured, transferring the envelope in his left hand so he was carrying everything on the same side and could fetch the car keys from his pocket with his newly free hand. He opened the trunk and dropped everything in it.

Steve didn’t bother asking what was in the envelope, or in the bag. If Billy had wanted to share the information, he already would have. Steve definitely wondered, though.

“I have an oatmeal raisin cookie for you, if you’d like.” He said once they were in their seats, as he rummaged through his backpack in search of it.

“Oh yeah thanks! that sounds perfect.”

Billy took the paper bag from Steve’s hand as he unparked the car. Steve would have scolded him for eating while driving instead of focusing solely on the road, but that would have been slightly hypocritical of him.

“Well, that’s a relief, because no way I’d have eaten that if you didn’t want it.” Steve made a face again.

“That’s ‘cause you have bad tastes, Pretty boy.” Billy said, taking a big bite of the cookie and putting crumbs everywhere.

Steve laughed. If only Billy knew how much Steve loved him, he would certainly backtrack on what he had just said.

“It’s delicious, you don’t know what you’re missing.” Billy said in between bites.

Steve was watching him with a sad smile, glad that Billy’s eyes were on the road and not on him. It took him a few seconds to reply.

“Oh I know, believe me. I know.”

The next morning, when he woke up, Steve found the brown paper bag Billy had come back with at the foot of his bed. What the…?

The idea of Billy sneaking into his room during the night to put it there made something tighten in his chest, but Steve was mostly preoccupied with finding out what was inside the bag.

He basically jumped out of bed, which was very unusual of him (he was the exact opposite of a morning person), and reached for the bag. There was a box labelled Adidas in it… no way! Steve opened it with shaky hands and his jaw dropped.

What… how… why? Steve was confused. Billy had gotten him the sneakers he’d been looking at in the shop window. How had he paid for them? Why would he spend so much money on Steve? Especially so soon after his birthday… This was far too much.

Steve exited his room quicker than he would have if it had been on fire.

“Billy!” Steve might have called his name slightly louder than he meant to.

Billy, who was sitting at the breakfast table with his back to Steve, jumped and put a hand over his heart.

“Damn, Pretty boy, calm down. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“What the fuck?”

Robin darted her eyes between the two of them and announced: “I’ll leave you to it”, before retreating to her room with her bowl of disgustingly bland oatmeal.

“What gives, Stevie?”

“You know what, Billy. The shoes. What the fuck? Why did you buy them?”

“Isn’t that obvious? You wanted them, and I wanted you to have them. It’s not that big a deal.” Billy was not looking at him as he spoke.

Steve’s heart nearly melted. Because that was so fucking sweet of Billy to do what he did, and then say something like that. He couldn’t possibly accept the gift, though.

“Not that big a deal? They’re so expensive, Billy… I can’t … I can’t just take them… it wouldn’t be right.”

“Look, Steve… As I told you, my client from yesterday paid really well, and it’s my money, so I get to decide how to spend it, and I wanted to spend it on these shoes, for you. So please, keep them. They’re your size and not refundable, anyway. Either you keep them or they’ll just rot in the cupboard. That’s up to you.”

Steve was almost certain Billy was bullshitting him on the “not refundable” part, but he didn’t argue. It would be no use: Billy always won.

So, he just hugged him tightly instead. Billy froze for a second, but quickly let go of the spoon he was still holding to hug Steve back.

“Thank you so much. I don’t know what I did to deserve that.”

“You don’t need to do anything in particular, Pretty boy. Being yourself is more than enough.”

Steve was not a crier, but his eyes were undeniably misty. Billy couldn’t keep being so sweet and expect Steve to reign his feelings in. They were on the verge of overflowing already.

After finally letting go of Billy (not before leaving a kiss on top of his head, though), Steve put the sneakers on.

“Steve, seriously… you’re still wearing your pajamas.”

Steve’s pajamas consisted in frayed basketball shorts and a old Hawkins High t-shirt, so it was fine to wear the sneakers with them in Steve’s book. And he wouldn’t take these off until he absolutely had to.

“So what?” Steve asked.

Billy rolled his eyes, but his ears were red.

About a week later, Steve’s nightmares paid him a visit. They had left him alone for a while, but Steve knew they’d be back eventually. He saw Billy die again, which was simultaneously his worst and most common nightmare.

“Hey, Steve. Stevie. Wake up, please.”

He was shaken awake.

Thankfully, Billy was the one to wake him up from his dream, so Steve instantly knew he was alive and well. Steve threw his arms around him, buried his face in his neck, and inhaled his scent to calm himself down.

Billy held him close and rubbed his back, whispering reassuring words in his ear:

“You’re okay, Pretty boy. You’re fine. It was just a dream.”

Yes, Steve was alright. But the most important thing was that Billy was. That had been the object of Steve’s concern.

“I’m sorry… did I wake you?”

Billy sighed.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t mind, Steve?”

“As many times as I have to tell you the same thing.”

Billy’s room was right next to Steve’s. It wasn’t the first time he woke Billy up with his nightmare-induced screams. And Billy’s night terrors had woken Steve up a few times too.

“Touché.” Billy said. “Do you think you’ll be able to go back to sleep?” He added after a pause.

“I don’t know… Could you read to me again?”

“Sure, if it helps.” Billy agreed.

Steve snatched the book from his bedside table and handed it to Billy, who opened it where the bookmark indicated Steve had stopped.

“You read all this by yourself?” There was awe in Billy’s voice.

Steve was blushing, but in the low light of his bedside lamp, it was probably not very noticeable. At least, he could always hope.

“Yeah… uh… I was really into it.”

He had read about seven chapters on his own, which, added to the ones Billy had read to him the other day, only left three before they reached the end.

“Steve, you did really good!”

Steve blushed even harder. His face was burning at that point. Billy sounded so proud of him.

“It’s not like it’s a great achievement, or anything… but yeah, I guess it’s progress.”

“Hey, of course it’s progress. It’s a lot, Steve. Don’t diminish your accomplishments.” Billy said in a firm tone.

“Okay, okay. I won’t.”

“Good.” Billy sprawled on the bed and leaned against the headboard. He then tugged on Steve’s arm. “Now settle down.”

Steve did as he was told and settled right next to him, resting his head on Billy’s chest and putting an arm over his waist. Steve loved the feeling of Billy’s naked skin against his. When they had first moved in together, Billy wore long-sleeved t-shirts almost constantly, self-conscious as his scars made him. Now, he slept in nothing but shorts. Steve wasn’t the only one who had been making progress.

Billy was barely three sentences into the third to last chapter when his voice broke. He cleared his throat and resumed the reading as if nothing had happened. His voice was now breathy, though.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“You sure? We can stop.”

“I’m sure, Pretty boy. Now shut up and let me read.”

Steve effectively shut up and Billy got back to the task at hand.

In the last three chapters, the King lost his kingdom, the magician finally confessed their love and found out it was in fact reciprocated. Then, the narrator described their first kiss with the King, a kiss that made Steve’s chest constrict with longing. The fact that it was Billy’s voice describing it only made the longing ten time worse.

As Billy read the last words: “He was not ruling the kingdom anymore, but to me he would always be king. My king, my light, my love, my everything”, Steve was on the verge of tears.

He regularly went through terrifying nightmares and found himself unable to spill a single tear, but this book might do the trick. And okay, it might have been a bit mushy, but Steve was really digging it, alright?

He opened his eyes and saw a tear stain on the last page. For a second, he thought he had already started crying without noticing, but his cheeks were dry. It then occurred to him that the tear had come from Billy.

Steve put the book away from him and had to straddle him so they could be face to face. He then wiped Billy’s tears, but they kept coming.

“What’s the matter, Billy?”

Unlike Steve, Billy was a crier. Steve had seen him cry a bunch of times, when he’d been particularly tired, or sad, or frustrated. However, there was something he was not getting: why had Billy pretended he didn’t like the book in the first place? It had to be the book. What other reason did Billy have to cry right now?

“I… I’m sorry.” Billy just said before he started properly bawling and hid his face in his hands.

Steve was even more confused… and slightly panicked.

“Hey… hey… please, tell me what’s wrong. I… I don’t know what to do.”

Steve circled Billy’s wrists to ground him, but he didn’t try to pull his hands away from his face for fear it might make him retreat further into himself.

“I just… this book hits me really hard.” His voice was muffled, but Steve could still make out the words.

“But… you said it wasn’t very good.”

Billy lowered his hands. His eyes were red and puffy.

“I meant it… It still makes me sad, though.”

Steve frowned. He didn’t think a book could elicit such reaction in someone who didn’t like it all that much.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Steve wouldn’t have judged Billy, he would have understood. He never wanted Billy to feel so bad, and even less if it happened because of something Steve had asked of him.

“I should have… I should have said something. I’m sorry.” Billy’s breathing was uneven, and Steve could see his tears threatening to come back.

“Hey, no. Don’t be sorry. You don’t have to apologize. Just tell me next time, okay?”

Billy nodded and Steve smiled at him tentatively.

“Let’s go to bed.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Billy mumbled.

Steve turned the lights off before moving from Billy’s lap to lay down. As Billy snuggled up with him, Steve couldn’t help but think about his recent behavior. Billy was acting a tad strange these days. He had gotten a lot better at expressing his feelings verbally in the last couple of years, and Steve was positive that the Billy he knew would have told him the book would upset him instead of pretending he would be fine.

Steve would have to talk to him when he was more clear-headed. The last thing he wanted was for Billy to close himself off again.

Thank you for reading :D

#Harringrove #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #fluffl #a lot of fluff with a side of plot #Robin Buckley #Harringrove fanfiction #Stranger Things #part 1 #part 1 of 2

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purge-that-urge-rhackathon · 7 years

Text

Purple Haze

Some rhack omegaverse while i’m busy with bartending school LOLOL :)

My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here. This is also found on my ao3 here (if you wanna leave my ass some sweet comments ;D) and the second chapter will be posted there :)

–

Rhys was going absolutely insane with boredom. The omega was pacing the apartment he and Vaughn shared, trying to find something to occupy his mind.

The two had been working odd shifts lately in keeping with a recent acquisition of a pharmaceuticals company into the Hyperion brand. Their time off had not aligned for two weeks now, seeing each other only when going to or getting off of work with little time to socialize in between.

Rhys’ schedule the past week saw him hard at work until late evening reprogramming some hardware for the labs while Vaughn had the time off; a fact which Yvette had used to cajole the beta into taking her to a new club she had heard about. And one which, according to Yvette’s telling, was quite the place to be. She wouldn’t stop gushing about it, and Vaughn was making an effort not to brag at least, but Rhys was left feeling quite jealous he hadn’t been able to make it out with them.

And now today with some rare free time to spare, Vaughn was stuck at work, and Rhys was left to his own devices at home.

Bored. Unable to rest.

And if he was being honest with himself, a little lonely.

He slept better when his best bro was around, but aside from chance meetings when going to bed or leaving for work, their opposing schedules had left Rhys wanting for company more than the omega was willing to admit. Yvette’s schedule left little time for them to hang out as well, and while he had others in Hyperion he considered close acquaintances, they weren’t exactly of the same caliber as his friends.

Maybe if he was lucky and Vaughn got home early enough, him and Yvette would take Rhys to that new club. Yvette could surely be coerced at the prospect of drinks (if he was buying). And judging by the tempered smile on Vaughn’s face when she gushed about it, the beta would also be up for a return.

It made Rhys smile as he recalled Yvette’s enthusiasm that the three of them go back together as soon as possible, demanding the two escort her to bolster the experience.

“It’ll make me look good. A man on each arm,” she’d told them assuredly. “You should have seen the posturing going on in there, Rhys. If I wanna compete with the other alphas then I’m going to need to bring something new to the table.”

“If you’ve sunk to using us as props then you’re desperate indeed,” Rhys had told her with a wry smirk.

“Speak for yourself. I’ll just show them my abs and it’ll be game over, bro.” Vaughn had grinned and looked entirely too pleased with himself, the novelty of the club still running high, and they’d all had a good laugh.

That was at least a week prior, and Rhys kept on hearing things from coworkers raving about the place. It kept the idea fresh in his mind and antsy about his turn to go.

Boredom bluntly prodding him, he hoped he could convince his two friends on a night out, or at the very least a movie marathon.

The omega heard a noise and then the door to their apartment opened. Rhys jumped off the couch in excitement, and Vaughn shuffled tiredly in.

“Hey! Welcome home! How was your day?”

The beta regarded him with tired eyes and slumped posture. “I didn’t know just how many assets a pharmaceuticals company had.” He dropped his stuff next to the couch and face planted into the cushions where Rhys had been only moments before. “I’d rather burn it all to the ground than go back. Shoot me out the nearest airlock, bro.”

Rhys smirked and squeezed his way in next to Vaughn on the couch. “I know what you mean. I’m sick to death of all these numbers.” He patted the beta’s leg and gave a gentle shake. “Hey, how about we blow off some steam at that new club you guys went to the other night?” Vaughn gave a huff into the cushions. “I’ve been dying of boredom all day here. I need to get out.”

Vaughn turned his head towards the omega, brows furrowed. “Sorry bro, count me out.” Rhys frowned. “I have to be in tomorrow. About…” He checked his watch and made an annoyed sound. “…eleven hours from now?”

Rhys sat up straighter at that, slightly excited. “What? Why? Are we back on normal schedule?” While initially excited that their opposite hours might finally be at an end, Rhys was loathe to surrender his friend to the day shift. It meant no night out.

Vaughn gave a sobbing groan. “Handsome Jack wants the numbers by Monday morning. Something about stock prices and stockholders… I’m gonna be pulling down overtime just to make that happen.”

Rhys patted the beta consolingly, trying to soothe away some of his distress. “Hmph. Alphas think they can do whatever they want.”

Vaughn snorted into the couch. “Don’t let Yvette hear you say that.”

“Though this is Handsome Jack we’re talking about,” Rhys allowed, getting another snort from the beta in his lap. “He can do whatever he wants.”

“I don’t have the energy to hear about your fantasies tonight, bro.” Rhys huffed and resisted the urge to push Vaughn off the couch at that, instead giving the beta an affectionate smack at the teasing. Vaughn tiredly snickered, making himself more comfortable on the omega’s long legs. "Yvette is still at the office.”

“What?” Rhys squawked, looking down in shock.

“She has to vet a lot of new personnel that came with the acquisition. Not all of them are happy about the merger…” Vaughn griped. “She’s about ready to take a page out of Handsome Jack’s book and vent them all.”

“Wow…”

“I mean, it would be less paperwork.”

“Wow bro.” Rhys chuckled a bit. “You are definitely in need of a night out if you’re talking like that.”

Vaughn didn’t argue the point, sighing instead and counting the hours of sleep he might achieve if he went to sleep without showering. “The only thing I need is a vacation. And about five millions years of sleep.” Rhys chuckled and patted him. “You work tomorrow?”

“I go in late, but yeah. Guess tomorrow night wouldn’t be good either, huh?”

Vaughn turned to angle a smile his way. “Bro, go check it out. Try their little purple martini things. You can afford to be a little hungover tomorrow.”

"By myself?”

“Well, as my boss owns me for the foreseeable future, I don’t know when the three of us will have time off at the same time to get there. It might be old news by then.”

“Hmph… I’d rather go together.” Rhys gave an annoyed whine at the prospect of being one of the only people in his department who hadn’t yet been. “But it does seem really cool.”

“Oh it was cool, I’ll definitely give it that. And I want to go back just for those drinks, let alone the seriously attractive people.” Vaughn’s voice was wistful, even if he was exhausted. There was obviously no hope of getting him to go with Rhys, though. “It was see and be seen, man.”

"Alright then, I’m going!” The omega decided, voice confident.

“Dress cool, bro. Because people there are definitely cool.”

"Got it!” Rhys’ voice was excited with anticipation, though he and Vaughn stayed where they sat. “You gonna get off me?”

“Eventually.”

They both laughed, and Rhys changed his clothes, forgoing a shower, and had Vaughn help him tie a very real tie. The beta asked him to please go home with someone instead of bringing them here (which made Rhys snort at the teasing) and Vaughn wished him luck.

–

It was maybe on the early side for clubbing by the time Rhys got himself to the swanky building with golden tiling, but it was as packed as Vaughn had said. Every open of the purple doors gave way to the bass of music and a cacophony of voices; revelers having a good time. And it was still early by clubbing standards. He wondered how it might get as the night progressed.

He approached the burly bouncer, taller and wider than himself, who stopped him before he even got to the door.

“Can’t go in.”

Rhys’ spirits sunk. “What? Why not?”

The wall of a man squinted down at Rhys, and the omega shrank in on himself just a little. “You need a mask.”

He wondered if he’d heard right. “I… what?”

“Tonight’s theme. Mystery,” the bouncer explained with a huff. “You can’t go in without a mask.”

Vaughn and Yvette had said nothing of theme nights, and it made him anxious as hell, right at the door but unprepared. “I… I don’t have one.”

The bouncer rolled his eyes at Rhys. The omega almost considered throwing it in for the night and just coming back with his friends, but after all the big talk to Vaughn, he couldn’t just leave. A little dignified bribery maybe, or some undignified crying…

“We have masks you can rent for the night. It’s an extra ten on top of cover.” The huge man moved, and behind him was an array of masks that had been hidden by his imposing body.

There was a good variety of colors and sizes. Small, eyes-only masks to large, elaborate masks which covered everything but the mouth. And all were covered in either glitter and gemstones or feathers.

Yeah, he’d heard nothing like this from Vaughn or Yvette.

Rhys reluctantly parted with his money, choosing a slender, red mask with black highlights which he promptly put over his eyes, and the man opened the door to Hyperion’s newest playground.

It smelled heavily of fruity liquids and the pervasive scent of beer as the warm air from indoors quickly met him. Different colored lights– soft in intensity but brilliant in color- splashed upon the walls and over the masked faces of fellow patrons. The bass of the music he’d heard from outside now thrummed right through his body, the movement from those on the dance floor being watched with interest from those in booths or standing. And everywhere, the aggressive persistence of pheromones from the mix of endotypes in the room swirled invitingly in his nostrils. His heart rate sped up as he inhaled in awe.

Rhys wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into, but he definitely wasn’t unhappy about it, that was for damn sure.

After gawking a few moments he made a beeline for the bar, squeezing in and gaining the attention of the pretty bartender with purple hair and red lipstick. He quickly spat out his order while he had the attention with what was surely an awkward, excited smile on his face.

“Can I get a beer please?” Start out easy and familiar. He still had work tomorrow. Work up to the special drinks.

Other patrons tried to wrest him out of the way to place orders, and he couldn’t be happier when his drink appeared and he squeezed out of the throng to accidentally bump into someone behind him.

“Well hello beautiful.” Rhys turned at the voice, looking for said gorgeous person. He met eyes with a blond haired man in a similar red mask with an angular face who keep his attention on the omega. “I heard attractive people were at this club but wow you’re something else.”

Rhys looked to either side of himself, grasping his beer like a lifeline as it registered. “M-me?”

His uncertainty got a laugh out of the man, grinning toothily as he nodded. "You’re a first timer too, huh?”

Rhys was flustered. Yeah, okay, he couldn’t fully see the man’s face, but nice jaw and pretty brown eyes and a smile for him wasn’t something he’d expected right off the bat. Beta too– possibly alpha- though it was hard to scent. This club must be magic. “Is it that obvious?”

The man laughed and extended his hand. “I’m Rich.”

“Are you now?” Rhys teased, patting himself on the back as the man laughed at his statement.

“Rich as in Richard.”

“You don’t go by Dick?” Rhys smirked playfully as the other man grinned.

“I don’t usually have to buy it.”

It was Rhys’ turn to laugh, and he put his mechanical hand into the other man’s. “Rhys.”

The man gave pause as he shook Rhys’ hand, but then smiled. “I was going to stay in tonight, but now I’m glad I didn’t.”

“I could say the same.” Rhys counted his lucky stars Vaughn had convinced him to go out, smiling at the blond before him. “It’s kind of early to be out, right? I didn’t think it would be this happenin’, but I’m glad I didn’t leave later.” He took a long draught of his beer with a smile, soaking up the atmosphere and his luck.

“So I couldn’t help noticing that arm– Mach 10?”

Rhys swallowed as he looked at his cybernetic. “Um, yeah, actually. It is.”

“Thought as much.” The beta smiled, eyeing it, and Rhys hoped he hadn’t attracted someone who was weird about cybernetics or some creepy fetishist. He’d learned the hard way to avoid that. Ugh. “Do you work in cybernetics?”

Rhys took a bigger drink of his beer, knowing he was going to need it if this turned out to be what he thought it was. Why assume he worked in cybernetics just because of his arm? Yeah, it wasn’t exactly an everyday sight, but still. Dammit, why couldn’t someone nice flirt with him?

“Uh, no actually,” he dismissed. “I work in propaganda and security.”

“Hm, figured. I would have definitely noticed you on our floor,” he stated with a smile. “We’ve had a lot of new people in and out in the last few weeks to test some new products. Can’t say you wouldn’t be a welcome distraction.”

Rhys inwardly sighed in relief. Okay, one of the cybernetics team then. Okay, that made sense. Of course he’d be on that. Not a creep. Good, good. “Gotta let off steam after this merger, right?”

“You’re slammed too?”

Rhys smiled a bit in relief that was to be short lived. Apparently the pharmaceuticals merger left no department untouched. “At least this place opened at just the right time.” Rhys tried to change the subject away from work specifically, and moreover from his arm. “I can’t believe all the rumors were true. And how about this theme night? Right?”

The beta acknowledged that he hadn’t heard of theme nights being a thing, but steered conversation right back to Rhys’ arm. The omega would rather they drop the topic, but his frown was overlooked.

“You know right now we’ve got the Mach 13, and it’s a lot smoother and streamlined than the 10.”

“Yeah, I know about that,” Rhys replied succinctly.

“The technology has advanced so much since previous models. You can take it off, right?”

Rhys bristled at such an intimate question. For working in cybernetics, this beta was demonstrating a serious lack of tact. “Yeah when I need to. It has an external charger.” He removed his attention from the beta, scanning the room for escapes. Maybe down the rest of his beer and lose himself on the dance floor. Find someone else to flirt with. Someone not focused on his arm.

“That would make an upgrade really easy for you then. Top of the line new tech is where it’s at.” The beta smiled, taking up Rhys’ hand in his and dragging a finger along his forearm very precisely. “See right here? There’s a new integrated system, you could have full control of the lights and sound in here.”

Rhys took his arm back against his chest defensively, a frown on his masked face. So his arm wasn’t top of the line. So what. It was his. He knew everything about it top to bottom, personal tweaks and upgrades included, and preferred it to the newer, flashier models.

This beta, however, seemed hell-bent to educate him in a manner he probably thought was showcasing his brilliance on technology. Rhys didn’t know if it was a cybernetics-department thing, or a him-thing, but this was so below acceptable it wasn’t even funny. Rhys thought he was behaving like a pompous ass, and had enough of being polite.

“…I need to move this way now,” he said in what he thought was obviously dismissive, moving away from the man back towards the bar.

Apparently not.

"Oh alright.” The beta followed him, not taking the brush off for what it was, and not shutting up as Rhys tried his best to maneuver through a thick crowd. “So you see, in the long run, too, the Mach 13 is far superior because…”

Rhys came to a dead-end where the dance floor and private booths bottle-necked. No way he would get through here fast enough for his brand of escape. And this guy would not take a hint. He was being loud as hell too, to be heard over the music, and it was making Rhys incredibly self-conscious. Now would normally be the time one of his friends swooped in to save him, but no, he’d had to go out alone.

“I happen to work for sales you know, maybe I could get you one….”

Rhys rolled his eyes with a laugh of disbelief. Why had this man decided to monopolize his time? Other alphas and betas that spared a glance his way also roved over the beta in his space, and then dismissed him for being with the man.

His night was headed south with some over-zealous tech-geek intent on shaming his current cybernetics. Maybe he should just give up and go home. Come back some other time with Vaughn and Yvette. He didn’t want to leave, but this was ridiculous.

“I know some of the older models are directly mounted to the skeleton… makes it a bit… awkward, right? But it would be a piece of cake to get a Mach 13 on you, absolutely.”

Rhys couldn’t bristle any further than he currently was, about to tell the guy right where he could shove his Mach 13 when a smooth, self-assured voice came up behind him.

“Hey sugar. There was a big line at the bar. Were you waiting long?” A man in a purple mask slid an arm around Rhys’ waist and pressed a firm kiss to his cheek. Strong alpha scent flooded his nostrils and nearly wiped his mind of his foul mood at the pleasing musk.

Rhys was too shocked to correct the stranger budged up against him, and knew he was flushing deeply as the beta before him was gaping, trying to form words. The man next to him smelled absolutely amazing though, the hand at his lower back making the hackles on the back of Rhys’ neck stand up.

This alpha was powerful; dangerous. There was no doubt in his mind, instincts screaming it at him. But Rhys remained glued to the spot, looking between the beta who couldn’t take no for an answer, and what was clearly an alpha that took no shit with his hand resting lazily upon Rhys’ hip.

The beta stuttered a few incoherent words before making a hasty retreat, probably realizing the danger the same as Rhys had, and the alpha snickered. A grin with teeth was aimed at the retreating man’s back, and Rhys felt relief melt through him even as his body was on alert.

The alpha removed his hand and turned his smirk on the omega, the white of his teeth stark against the purple and gemstones of the mask half-covering his face. “You looked like you needed an out there, cupcake.”

Rhys rubbed the hairs at the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. “Yeah, I really really did. Thanks for that. He, uh, wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Frikkin’ grade-A creeper material. Who even does that?” the alpha said with disgust in the direction the beta had retreated. He turned back on Rhys. “Got a name, sweet thing?”

“Uh, Rhys.”

“Well, Uh, Rhys,” the man teased, his mouth splitting to a truly attractive grin, “Can I buy you a drink?”

Rhys couldn’t believe how quickly his night just turned around. He hadn’t hoped on picking someone up tonight at all, and while the first had been a bust, this alpha seemed promising. He smelled fantastically gorgeous, even if he could see less of his face than the beta, and he’d scared off said creeper. And now this great-smelling alpha wanted to buy him a drink.

Vaughn would never believe him.

“Is that a no, cupcake?” The man was grinning again, and Rhys’ face was burning.

“Sorry, I, yes, please. That would be- That would be so great.”

“What’s your poison?”

“Oh anything is fine by me,” he said, trying to be accommodating to the alpha who’d already done him one favor tonight.

"Gin?” The man asked. Rhys pulled a face, and he laughed. “’Anything’ my ass. I’m trying to impress you here, pumpkin. What would you like? Really?”

Rhys’ eyes locked on a drink in someone’s hand, not knowing what it was, but that he definitely wanted to try it. “Well, I heard their little purple cocktails are something to be had.”

The man smirked but didn’t judge his choice. “Coming right up, kitten.”

Rhys still couldn’t believe his luck, oogling the alpha from behind as he quickly got the omega the club signature drink. Now there was an ass, and he was broad in the shoulders in a way that made Rhys’ loins tighten. What would it be like for an alpha that big to push him down into bed? To get that strong, powerful scent all over him? Those white teeth biting at his skin?

The man came back with Rhys’ drink in his hand and a flute of something bubbly in the other, and handed it to the omega fighting off impure thoughts. “What do you say we grab a table, Rhysie?”

Hearing his name run playfully off the alpha’s tongue made delight run up his spine, but he tried to play it cool. "It’s so crowded in here, you think we’ll find one?”

“I don’t think that will be a problem.”

The alpha must have had connections or something to secure them one of the only tables with a “reserved” sign sitting on it. It was a private table in the corner, with a good view of the dance floor but high booth walls where you could have a conversation without being overheard. He wondered just who the man under that mask was, and again thrilled at his turn of events.

Rhys didn’t know what kind of luck he had as he slid into the booth. Private tables were the very definition of expensive, and the alpha at his side was obviously at ease with the novelty of such luxury, spread out comfortably in the space. Vaughn would surely never believe him.

Maybe this was his reward for enduring the beta from earlier. As he happily sipped on his fruity purple cocktail, a waitress brought a bottle of extremely expensive champagne to the table that made Rhys’ eyes nearly bug out. The alpha sipped from his own flute, unconcerned with the bottle, his attention on Rhys.

“That a Mach 10?” the man asked of Rhys’ arm, and the omega slightly cringed as he was brought back to reality.

“Y…yeah.”

“Nice. Those things were hell to stabilize and the mount wasn’t a one-hundred percent survival rate. You’re tough stuff, kitten.” Rhys felt himself blush at that.

“I…I didn’t know that, actually.”

“The 10s are hardy as hell though. Don’t upgrade until the shells on the newer models are fixed. The 14s are pretty badass but those aren’t out to the public yet,” he whispered with a wink. “Was it optional, or…”

“Oh uh… Yeah, had the old one chopped off.”

The alpha whistled lowly. “You are my kind of badass, baby.”

Rhys smirked into his cocktail at that, the man at his side changing topics already and filling his cocktail glass with champagne when he’d finished it. A pleasant buzz went through him that complemented the alpha’s confident voice, the champagne crisp on his tongue and the man’s scent heady in his nostrils.

The alpha asked him about himself, his interests, if this was his first time at this club and if he’d been there for Badasses night, and if he had any other ink than the tattoo that peeked out of his shirt.

Rhys was cheeky, and showed the man a bit of skin for the top of his chest tattoo. The alpha whistled again and asked what his chances of seeing the whole thing was, his face close enough to Rhys’ ear that the omega could feel the warmth of his breath. The alpha smelled musky and powerful, enticing. If Rhys was leaning into him a bit closer than necessary, he’d blame it on the loud music and trying to hear, the blush on his face surely from alcohol.

The alpha had the same idea, a large, warm hand on the omega’s thigh and a nose pressed daringly into the side of his throat, scenting him. Rhys hoped he couldn’t scent that he was making him leak slick, everything about the stranger just melding with his wants on an atomic level.

He could blame it on the music and the lights and the booze and the atmosphere, but truthfully, the alpha’s scent was completely his undoing. It would be a lie to say otherwise.

“What do you say we take this elsewhere, kitten?”

Rhys gulped at the hand on his thigh, his cock at half mast for some time now flexing in agreement. The other man ran his tongue along the shell of Rhys’ ear and it got a gasped sigh of want.

“You can say no, you know.”

Yes yes yes, that’s what Rhys’ brain was saying, and holy crap he was curious as to what the alpha looked like under that mask. If he looked even half as good as his scent smelled, then Rhys knew he had a winner.

He was leaning into the alpha’s mouth pressed hot against the side of his throat, a hand over the one the man was squeezing his thigh with. He whined as that hand delved towards inner thigh, intent on moving where he really wanted it, when the alpha’s comm went off.

He paused to answer it, his expression going from lustful to dark in a moment, and Rhys’ heart sank with alarm.

“Fuck. Sorry kitten, this isn’t happening tonight.”

Rhys didn’t have too long to be disappointed as the alpha peeled off the champagne label and removed a pen from somewhere on his person, quickly scribbling on it before shoving it on the omega.

“Here’s my number. Use it. I’ll expect a call tomorrow. Catch you later, sweet thing.”

Rhys was left to the bottle of champagne and the entire booth as the man quickly disappeared into the crowd to leave the building. He was dumbfounded by the exchange, if not hopeful.

He was also trapped by the insistent bulge jutting from his pants, and knew he wouldn’t be going anywhere until he calmed down sufficiently. He laughed at himself as he sat there a while and finished off the bottle of champagne, wondering drunkenly just how far he might have let the stranger take things. Would he have let him jerk him off right here at this table? Probably. It was dark and private enough. And shit it had been a long time since he’s gotten laid.

Rhys laughed again as a waitress came by to remove empty glasses and napkins, and asked if there wasn’t anything she could get him on the table’s tab. Rhys smirked, but no, there was nothing she could give that he wanted at the moment.

He enjoyed watching the club become even more crowded with masked faces as he sat there in a pleasant drunken haze, deciding that maybe he had had enough fun for the evening. Time to call it a night, and look forward to a rendezvous with the stranger he’d met another time.

Rhys’ smile fell and his stomach dropped as he looked at the table.

The paper was gone. The number on the champagne label– he didn’t remember what it had been. Shit. The waitress had probably cleared the bit of trash away, when she’d came by. There was no getting it back, that was a fact. Dammit, he didn’t even ask the man’s name.

Rhys peeled himself out of the booth, leaving his mask and making his way for home, a bit distraught. That alpha had smelled like everything he’d ever want to sink his teeth into with a scent he could get drunk off. And he hadn’t even gotten a name.

Maybe he could go back to the club in the hopes of seeing the alpha again. He did say he’d been there for, what was it? Badasses night? Maybe he liked themes.

Rhys hoped on that thought, rather than the likelihood that he’d never see the man again.

Oh how he wished he’d asked for his name.

— the other half (chapter 2) can be found on my ao3 here :)

#poisonjack #my fic #Purple Haze is the name of a cocktail LOLOL i was gonna go with Double Purple Tickler but that was just too much AHAHAH #i really wanna make THAT cocktail >_>#YAY bartending school busy-ness and then a full-time gig WOOOO #rhack #rhys #handsome jack #omegaverse #fanfic #alpha!jack #omega!rhys #borderlands

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Text

Blank bookcover with clipping path

Christmas balls in winter setting,Winter holidays concept.

Christmas background with bright wooden board and fir branches decorated with red and silver baubles and stars – modern, simple and elegant

Three hunging red christmas balls isolated on a white background

BLURBS

Let It Snow – Nikola Christain

Jovie has always avoided the Christmas season. But when she has to spend the holidays in a ski lodge, she meets someone who may inspire her to embrace the season. Or at least the part about meeting under the mistletoe.

Eight Secret Nights – Shoshana David

Someone’s been leaving Hanukkah presents on Mara’s doorstep. Sweet presents. Thoughtful presents. She wonders who her secret admirer is. Hopefully it’s the cute guy who moved in next door and not the creep from 7A.

A Tradition Worth Continuing – Tricia Ramey

It’s Christmas Eve, and Beth Murphy is finally able to relax. Now’s the time to enjoy a little downtime with her husband James before the chaos of their descending families the next day. But it’s the gift she has for her husband that will make this Christmas the most memorable one yet.

Kittens For Christmas – Caitlyn Lynch

Regina Brooks thinks finding a box of abandoned kittens on Christmas Eve is a disaster in the making. Fortunately, her hunky neighbor Ric is eager to help her out — in any way he can!

Missing You For Christmas – Moxie Rivers

When Allison’s husband, Jake, can’t get leave, it’ll be her first Christmas without him since they were married. But Allison isn’t the type of person to let that stop her, but with the help of her coworkers, and just maybe a little Christmas magic, it will still be a Merry Christmas.

A Grease Monkey Christmas – Cailin Briste

Fate arranges the chance meeting of two strangers in need of a little kindness on Christmas Eve. Celebrity Davon Weider, with his navy-blue eyes and muscular physique, can fill the starring role in any woman’s fantasy. But Jasline, a spaceport mech, is more impressed by his five jump speed records.

Santa Claus is Coming – Jennie Kew

I don’t dress up as Santa for just anyone, you know? Holly Granville isn’t just anyone. When a massive storm hits our Christmas photo shoot and we’re trapped inside a tiny hut — cold, wet, angry, and naked — our friendship irrevocably changes. But will it be for better, or worse?

The Promise Of Love – Maya Bailey

The year is 1819. He sees a man across a room and it is like seeing himself dressed in a British soldier’s uniform. How could it be that another man bears his face? He had loved her once; she had betrayed that love. Now he must find answers. If only he could do that without laying eyes on her again.

Underneath The Mistletoe – Ava Bari

Police officer Nic Zanetti just wanted to spent a quiet holiday alone with his TV. Then he’s called to find a runaway little girl. When he meets her widowed mother, this Christmas will be one they never forget.

Blizzard – Suzi Frewin

Simon and Fallon find themselves marooned together, fearing for their lives against the Zengwee, an alien species which has dominated Earth for its resources. Neither want the complication of falling in love, but fate and Christmas have other plans.

All I Want for Christmas … is You – Annika Steele

On Christmas Eve, Dr. Victoria Long is determined to take her relationship with Detective Devon King to the next level, maybe even the forever kind. But will their relationship survive when Devon discovers she’s a suspect in a series of thefts?

Christmas is Coming – Liv Honeywell

It’s almost Christmas, and Abby decides to decorate the tree, despite Will, her Dom, telling her to wait. But when she drops his toolbox and all the parts scatter like confetti, she’s left wondering if she’ll be able to sit down by *next* Christmas. What will happen when Will gets home?

New Beginnings – Dana Kenzi

When Erika’s Winter Solstice ritual doesn’t go as planned, it joins her list of worries, right next to her struggles to run her newly acquired business. Then her handsome neighbor, David, drops by to offer her some company. What starts off as a venting session between two frustrated adults leads to a cathartic and pleasurable encounter.

I Fell Through Starlight For You – Keira Fox

It’s the earliest hours of Christmas and Lucille is thinking of closing up her bistro when an enchanting figure comes through her door seeking aid for his injuries.

EXCERPTS

From Kittens For Christmas by Caitlyn Lynch

Ric looked at Reggie sitting there on the floor next to him, a pair of fools caring for some orphaned kittens early in the morning on Christmas Day, and he wondered if she’d slap his face if he kissed her. She’d fallen asleep on his shoulder mid-sentence earlier, and snuggled up to him with the cutest little sound of protest when he tried to carefully shift her off. In the end he’d just leaned his head back on the couch and dropped off to sleep himself.

Reggie’s brown eyes sparkled as she laughed, and impulsively Ric reached out a hand and touched one of hers, resting lax on her knee.

“Hey. I’m glad I met you coming in tonight. Last night, I mean, it’s morning now…”

Ugh, that was so not smooth. Why does my brain always fail me when I’m talking to an attractive woman?

Reggie was smiling at him, though. “I’m glad, too,” she said softly, and her slight, fine-boned hand turned under his so their fingers interlaced.

Ric’s brain stalled out and failed him completely. He just stared at her hand under his, at least until Reggie let out a soft, husky little laugh. His eyes snapped up to her face – which was suddenly a lot closer.

This is actually happening. He was suddenly as nervous as a teenage boy with his first crush, palms sweating, hands shaking.

Reggie’s lips were soft against his, a light, tentative touch before she pulled back, looking at him with wide eyes.

She can’t be nervous. She’s gorgeous, she could have any guy she wanted. That look of nervous worry, of concern that he might not be into her, absolutely killed him. No way could he let her have that impression, even for one second. So he leaned closer and brought up his free hand to cup her cheek, fingers sliding into her thick ringlets, feeling their springy texture.

“God damn, but you’re beautiful,” he murmured before bringing their mouths back together. He felt her lips curve up in a pleased smile, right before they parted, welcoming in his tongue as he probed lightly.

Ric felt Reggie’s soft sigh all through his body; the little moan she let out as he explored her mouth had his cock hardening in his pants. Her fingers tightened around his before she moved, going to her knees beside him and putting her free arm around him, pulling their bodies flush against each other.

It was Ric’s turn to make a noise, a low hungry groan in his throat as Reggie’s breasts pressed against his chest. Leaning back against the couch, he pulled her with him and she straddled his thighs, settling her groin against his.

“Reggie,” his voice came out a husky rasp as she pulled away from the kiss and ducked down to nip and lick at his neck, finding that sensitive spot in the hollow of his collarbone which made him shudder, hips jerking up involuntarily. “What are we doing?”

“Well,” she paused to swirl her tongue in the hollow of his throat, “right now we’re making out, and since our charges are full of milk and sound asleep, I think we should take advantage of the temporary quiet to go ahead and fuck.”

His eyes, half-lidded with pleasure, flew wide open. “Well,” he said after recovering his composure, “that’s direct.”

Reggie chuckled and leaned back to look him in the eye. “I’m not one to talk around a situation. You’re hot, I’m horny, it’s Christmas, let’s have fun.”

“I think you’ve got it the wrong way round.”

Her brows furrowed adorably, a small line appearing between them.

“You’re hot and I’m horny. But the floor’s too hard and the couch is too small, so how about we take this to the bedroom?”

From Santa Claus Is Coming by Jennie Kew:

“Please tell me that was the last one.”

Holly grins. “That was the last one.”

“Oh, thank God.” I push myself up and out of the driftwood throne I’ve occupied for the better part of the day and stretch the kinks out of my back and shoulders.

Everything hurts.

My back is stiff from sitting for too long, and my thighs hurt from having an endless line-up of kids — and the occasional adult — sit on them all day. My cheeks ache from smiling waaay too much, my ass is so numb I’m not entirely sure it’s still attached to my body, and don’t even get me started on my balls….

Fuck me.

What a day.

When my best friend’s sister invited me to spend the day with her at Melbourne’s iconic Brighton Beach — you know the one, with the long line of brightly painted bathing huts that wedding photographers clamour over — I jumped at the opportunity. Spend the day with the woman I’ve lusted after for years while she parades around in one of those skimpy bikinis she’s so fond of?

Fuck yeah!

And sure, maybe I could catch a few waves while we’re there, show off my very grown-up, non-brotherly physique to the woman who once told me a. she’d never date one of her brother’s mates, and b. she’d never, ever be interested in someone so much younger than her.

Like a ten year age difference made her old or something.

Women!

Anyway, I rock up, surfboard in hand, and what does she do? Hands me a beach bum Santa costume consisting of little more than a pair of boardshorts and a Santa hat, shoves me in front of a camera and starts charging people money to let their precious little darlings crawl all over me and tell me their Christmas wishes. Which, okay — crushed ball-sack aside — was actually pretty cool, especially the kid who wanted total world domination so he could end bullying everywhere. I didn’t have the heart to point out the flaw in his plan, and judging by the look on his dad’s face, neither did he.

“You did a good job today, Chris,” Holly says as she packs away her camera equipment, then laughs. “I can’t wait to show Mikey that shot of the granny in your lap.”

I slip my Santa hat off my head and shove it in my pocket. “I’ll have you know her name was Phillipa, she’s only seventy-five years old, and she said I reminded her of her late husband.”

“She licked your face.”

“She wanted to know if I tasted like him, too,” I say with a grin. “I’d reckon the saucy old dame did it to win a bet, actually. I saw her and her friend exchange a tenner after she collected her photo. And you know Mike hates it when you call him Mikey, right?”

“Of course. Why do you think I do it?” she says with a wink that makes my breath stall in my chest and my legs go weak at the knees. “Seriously, though. Thanks for today. I know I blindsided you with it.”

“You know, you could have just told me what you wanted me for,” I say as I step down from the dais and discreetly adjust my aching package. “It is for charity. And you know us firemen. We love any excuse to take our shirts off.”

She looks up at me from under long, blonde lashes. “After the calendar shoot fiasco I wasn’t sure how willing you’d be to help me.”

Ah, yes. The calendar fiasco. I snort a laugh and shake my head. “I run into burning buildings for a living, Hols. On purpose. Did you really think a little dog shit would keep me away?”

Holly laughs, the full-bodied sound bursting from within her and shaking her deliciously plump figure with the force of it.

Good God, I want to eat her all up.

Starting right between her—

“It was more than a little dog shit. That poor pup had the worst diarrhoea I’ve ever seen. You were covered in it. I have photos. I was thinking of blowing one up and giving it to your mum for Christmas.”

Cocking an eyebrow at her obvious glee, I fold my arms over my chest and grin. “You just love humiliating me, don’t you?”

“Call it a hobby,” she says with a shrug, her pretty mouth curved in a smile of honest good humour. A smile that has my cock twitching with interest as I imagine how those sweet lips would feel wrapped around its rock hard length.

Fuck.

The last thing I need right now is a hard-on. I’m almost thankful for the sudden wind that whips past us, stinging my legs with flying sand.

From Underneath The Mistletoe by Ava Bari

The officer who’d found her daughter was still there, and Amelia had yet to even acknowledge him. She rubbed her eyes and kept Grace at her hip as she looked up at the taller man… and instantly regretted choosing her most unflattering nightgown to wear to bed.

“Mrs. Eliot, I’m Officer Zanetti,” he said, offering a hand. She tried to ignore how strong his grip was. His hand was huge and completely engulfed hers.

“Thank you so much for finding my daughter, Officer,” Amelia said. “I really can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s all in a day’s work, Ma’am,” he said, his smile bringing her back to her teenage years when she’d fawned over boy band members and actors.

She thanked him several more times as the other cops left and Grace began to yawn and lean heavily on her mother. Deciding to save all punishments until tomorrow, Amelia hoisted Grace into her arms. “I think I’d better get her to bed now.”

Officer Zanetti nodded. “Yeah you should.” He leaned over, catching Grace’s attention. She was half-asleep but awake enough to listen when he spoke. “Stay in bed this time, okay? Remember what we said.”

“Uh huh.” She took the letter out of her pocket and then, for whatever reason, handed it to the officer. “You promise Santa will read it?”

“If he doesn’t, I will read it to him myself,” he swore, as serious as if he had his hand on the Bible.

“Okay, but don’t open it until you see him,” Grace said. She nestled into the thick cottony fabric of Amelia’s nightgown and was asleep in seconds. Amelia gave Officer Zanetti a questioning look.

“Ah yeah…” He rubbed his neck. “I might have told her I work for Santa Claus to get her to come with me.”

Amelia chuckled. Her heart had yet to slow down all the way, but there was something hilarious about this tough guy cop getting embarrassed. “You’re a Christmas elf?”

“A bodyguard, thank you,” he said, affronted.

“That would’ve been my next guess.” He certainly looked the part, as the unhelpful part of Amelia’s brain was quick to point out.

They stood in awkward silence for a time until Grace shifted in Amelia’s arms, reminding her they probably shouldn’t stand outside in freezing cold weather. Officer Zanetti seemed to realize this at the same time. He coughed and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Okay, looks like everything is good here. I’ll let you two get some sleep.”

“Would you like some coffee before you go?” Amelia asked. “I feel like I owe you for finding my daughter.”

“Just keep her safe in bed tonight, Ma’am,” he said, walking back to his car. “Have a Merry Christmas.”

“You too,” Amelia called out, but he’d already started his engine, and she had no idea if he heard her.

THE AUTHORS

The saying goes that “it’s always the quiet ones,” and that is certainly true of Nikola Christain, the sexy personality lurking within a shy, regular woman. When she isn’t living her “normal”, quiet life, she is exploring, experiencing, reading, and writing about it all.

Follow her on goodreads, facebook, tumblr, and through her Amazon author page.

* * *

A native New Yorker, Shoshana David loves celebrating her Jewish heritage in her writing. A bit of a late bloomer, she didn’t catch the writing bug until college. This is her first published work.

* * *

Tricia Ramey, born in Alberta, Canada, enjoys reading and writing a variety of fiction. Married for sixteen years and counting to the love of her life, she uses her vast imagination and life experience to create rich and detailed scenarios for all her works.

Find her on her Amazon Author’s Page or on Tumblr.

* * *

USA Today bestseller Caitlyn Lynch is an Australian author and happily married mother of two. She has a number of published works available on Amazon.

You can also find her at caitlynlynch.com, on Goodreads or Bookbub, or on her Facebook, Twitter, Google +, Pinterest, Instagram or Tumblr social media accounts.

Add your name to her mailing list to find out about new works, be invited to read exclusive advanced reader copies, and more!

* * *

Moxie Rivers is an American writer of erotic fiction of all persuasions, living on the Mid-Atlantic coast with her wife and three fat, happy cats. When not writing, she can be found at her crafting table making jewelry or digging in the dirt in her garden. You can find her on Facebook or on Tumblr.

* * *

Cailin Briste writes science fiction romance. She’s a member of Romance Writers of America, the RWA Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal Chapter, and the RWA Passionate Ink Chapter. She’s writing the third novel in her Sons of Tallav series and the second novel in her A Thief in Love Suspense Romance series.

You can connect with Cailin on her website, her blog, Twitter, Facebook, Google +, Pinterest, Goodreads, Bookbub and Amazon. Join her street team or subscribe to her newsletter for lots more!

* * *

Jennie Kew is the author of The Q Collection, a series of quick and quirky erotic romances, as well as the upcoming Bennett’s Bastards series.

You can stalk Jennie on Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest, follow her on Amazon and Goodreads, or sign up for her newsletter and get first dibs on new releases, cover reveals and more.

* * *

Maya Bailey grew up in India but now resides in Utah with her husband. As a marketing communications professional she has lived and worked all over the world. An eternal optimist, she adores happily-ever-afters and the craft or writing. Regency Romance is her favourite genre.

You can find Maya at her website, on Amazon, Goodreads, Facebook and Pinterest.

* * *

Ava Bari is a New York born Midwesterner with a passion for writing, reading, and reading when she’s supposed to be writing. Find her on Tumblr and Twitter.

* * *

If the book you just can’t put down is an exciting tale of intrigue with lots of villains, twists, and an awesome romance, then you’ll love Suzi Frewin’s books. As a lifetime reader of romance, she likes more action than promise, so that’s the way she writes. Enjoy.

You can find Suzi on her website or on Twitter.

* * *

Annika began writing at the age of eight, but abandoned her stories in college. A ridiculous number of years later, she stumbled across fanfic, put fingers to keyboard, and hasn’t stopped writing since.

* * *

Liv Honeywell is a BDSM erotic romance writer, and when not writing about delicious, hot male dominants and the female subs who love them, she’s usually doing something craft-like, reading, or baking and attempting to satisfy the demands of His High and Mighty Dominance (the cat!).

You can follow her on her blog, on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, BookBub or her Amazon page.

Or sign up to her newsletter for freebies, fun, and book news!

* * *

Dana Kenzi has been writing fiction for over ten years. Currently, she indulges in her deepest and darkest fantasies to write erotica in her spare time. When she’s not glued to the keyboard, she’s eating, traveling, binge watching TV shows on Netflix, or impulse buying on Amazon.

Find Dana on her website, Twitter, or Facebook, or sign up to her mailing list to receive the latest information about new releases!

* * *

Keira always used to joke that she’d end up writing Mills & Boon novels if her career in art didn’t work out. She’s still making art and baking the sweet things that she so often likes to write about, but she decided that she’d like to do the other thing too. She lives and works in a tumbledown cottage in the back of a garden right near the ocean in Western Australia.

Find her on Tumblr.

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Seasonal Shenanigans Anthology BLURBS Let It Snow - Nikola Christain Jovie has always avoided the Christmas season. But when she has to spend the holidays in a ski lodge, she meets someone who may inspire her to embrace the season.

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