#that’s right he took his beautiful singing voice out and he stole my fucking heart
Text
Chapter Twenty-Five (Part 3)
“It’s stupid, but I love it when you wear my clothes,” He says, helping me to roll up the sleeves of the fleece I stole from him, and I chuckle, “I knew it, that’s why you spent our entire friendship giving me things of yours to wear. I think it makes you feel big and strong.”
“Yeah for sure, that’s it. I like to see little short women swamped in my clothes, it makes me more manly.”
We laugh, and I ask him, “Back that first summer when you gave me your red hoodie to wear, you know, that night on the quays. Did you like me then?”
“Yeah, of course I did. At that point I thought I was being very obvious about it, actually.”
“Were you trying to be obvious?”
“I was.”
“Hm, it wasn’t to me,” I lean back against his chest and his arms wrap around my middle. “When did you start to like me then, like, when did you know?”
“A while before that.”
“Like when we first met?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe in that first week, though. Initially I thought you were Liam’s girlfriend so I didn’t really want to get too close or anything, but I definitely thought you were pretty when we met.”
I like hearing that. “You did?”
“Yes, Evie,” He chuckles, nuzzling me playfully on one cheek then the other, “I thought you were pretty. You’re so pretty, the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I’m totally awestruck when I look at your face, is that what you want me to say?”
“Yes please,” I say, shrinking away in fits of giggles because his lips are ticklish on my jaw.
“Okay then, oh, you make my heart stop, you’re so beautiful, thou art as glorious to this night as is a winged messenger of heaven. What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Evie is the sun-”
“Alright enough,” I bat him away, “I get it, you’re obsessed. Sheesh.”
He gives my hair a playful tug, “So can I ask you something then?”
“You can ask me anything.”
“When did you know you liked me?”
“It was that day that Jen invited me to the gallery in Dublin. You were so nice to me all day, and you listened to everything I was saying with this really keen interest. People didn’t usually seem that bothered when I said stuff back then, or like, even really heard me. It was a new experience.”
“Seriously?”
I nod, “And then later I thought it was so cool that you were brave enough to just stroll into that wedding party and start drinking their champagne and helping yourself to their finger food.”
“Oh yeah! I forgot we did that.”
“And right before we got kicked out they were playing an Elvis song, do you remember? And you were singing along in this funny voice and you danced with me for like, maybe ten seconds and as soon as you held my hands I felt butterflies all over. I knew I was in trouble.”
He leans onto his elbows and gives me a slow smile, “Yeah, I remember that, you got flustered so I let you go, I thought I was making you dance with me when you didn’t want to and you were embarrassed that people were watching you.”
“No, I was flustered because I fancied you.”
“I have so many questions for you, Kilbride.”
“And I have so many for you. You go first”
“Alright,” He shifts into a more comfortable position, “Did you know that I liked you that summer?”
“Not until you kissed me.”
“No way.”
“And even after that I wasn’t sure. Do you remember you spent the second day of the festival sulking and avoiding me?”
“Yeah,” He looks down guiltily, “I was such an idiot. I felt really bad for kissing you because I realised that there was no way it wasn’t going to end badly by then. It was so stupid, I just couldn’t face it and I was so annoyed with myself for being impulsive again and ruining a perfectly good friendship with a girl again by fucking kissing her. I moped around for the whole day with Kasper and Joe, we bought some dodgy ketamine and vomited it up in the tent where Crystal Castles were playing and then I took my anger out on that guy who kissed you in the rave tent.”
“Wow, bad day.”
“The worst day, and then later I realised that you were under the impression that I was going to accept my NCAD offer and not go to Berlin after all… it was so shit.” He shakes his head as though he’s in disbelief of it all over again, “But I realise now that in feeling sorry for myself and being destructive I likely made your day just as bad.”
“The boy I liked rejected me and I got assaulted by a creep, so I’d say it wasn’t great either.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“So ask me something else then.”
I pick at loose yarn on the rug, “what if my question is embarrassing?”
“There’s no embarrassing questions here, really, ask me anything and I’ll be honest.”
I feel a blush rising up from my collar, “going back to that festival… when we talked under that tree with all the lights on it, do you know the one I mean? Where you told me you were really going to Germany and all?”
He leans forward, “yes?”
“I told you that you could come back to my tent with me,”
“You did.”
“I’d never offered something like that to a boy before, you know? I’d never actually been in a position where something like that was a possibility. You said no.”
“Right.”
“But like… did you want to? Really?”
He breathes out a laugh, “that’s your question?”
“Well yeah.”
“Whether or not I wanted to have sex with you?”
I pout, “yes, so?”
“The real question should be how often I thought about fucking you for the last four years,” He says, “because the answer is frequently. All the time, are you kidding? I can’t believe you were even wondering that. Of course I wanted to come back to your tent, I was a teenage boy, I dreamt about being asked for something like that. By the time you asked me it probably already happened in my head about a hundred times, I only said no because I didn’t want to make the situation worse.”
“Like you thought I’d get too attached to you or something?”
“I knew that sex would mean a lot more to you at that point than it did to me.”
“You knew I was a virgin.”
“I didn’t know that for a fact but I assumed it.” He leans in to give my leg an affectionate stroke, “We were so young, and it was the worst timing in the world. Even if I wasn’t going away, you know? Even if I had stayed I don’t think it would have felt right to just hook up in a tent. You needed someone who was going to be nice and take their time and wait until you were ready.”
“That wouldn’t have been you?”
“I don’t think I would have been the best person honestly,” He grimaces, “Even if I’d stayed. I was just such a stupid boy, I thought I was king of the world, things like sex were coming easy to me, girls I liked always liked me back, I didn’t necessarily think that I needed to be considerate of anybody or try very hard.”
He doesn’t know how much I would have liked for him to be slightly inconsiderate of me inside that tent.
“I hope that whoever your first person was was good to you.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“So can that be my question for you, then?” He wonders, “How was your first time?”
I laugh and shift subtly away from him, “It was fine, but nothing special.”
“Ah, really? Disappointing, like?”
“Suppose so, yeah.”
“Yeah honestly I think it’s like that for most people, like you expect something completely different from what you end up getting. I guess all you can hope is that the other person will laugh about it with you because it’s awkward most of the time.”
“For sure.”
He grins, “Who was it then? Some guy from NCAD?”
“It was Dean.”
“Oh,” His smile falters. As he stares past me into the flickering licks of flame in the stove I can see that he is thinking very hard, eyebrows pulled together into a frown. “What was he like?” He says finally, and despite the heat of the stove on the side of my face I feel suddenly chilled with the memory. Jude reaches out and touches my leg in a quick, anxious gesture, “You don’t have to tell me, sorry. Stupid question.”
“No, it’s okay,” I say, “I can tell you,” And then it’s hard to because I don’t know where to begin. I open my mouth and it’s like I’ve been paralysed by the enormity of what I’ve been holding inside myself, something that only got bigger and more frightening as time has gone on and I’ve let it fester. I take a slow breath in, “He was horrible.”
Jude says nothing, he just waits.
“Well, no, he was nice at some point. He used to tell me how he thought I was hot, and how I was nicer looking and more talented than other girls, and I liked hearing that, but it felt like he was working on me all the time, you know what I mean? Like, trying to chip away at something or figure something out about me. It always made me feel a bit edgy around him.
“We finally had sex near the end of first year, we were just hanging out and kissing a bit before that but he was always pushing it, always trying to make it happen and I got a bit nervous about him then because he seemed really impatient and annoyed, like I was being uptight, he just didn’t understand why I was putting it off so much so, like, I just did it. It was partially to shut him up, partially to stop feeling like the last virgin on earth.
“It wasn’t nice. It was uncomfortable and awkward and I did such a bad job of being sexy enough for him that he just got up and left afterwards. I was kind of relieved that he seemed put off, honestly, because I didn’t really like the idea of doing it again, but we did do it again. Loads and loads of times, I think just because he had an impulse to do it with somebody and it didn’t really matter who. I was available and too timid to say no to him, so it was like…” I shrug sharply, “That’s how it went.”
I risk a glance at Jude whose jaw is clenched, then quickly look away before I lose the nerve to say anything else.
“Anyway, I was really bad at it. He always told me I was doing it wrong, and he’d get mad and push my hands off him and complain that I wasn’t moving in the right way or whatever, so I eventually gave up trying and just lay there, but of course he hated that too. He said I was the most boring girl on earth and I had no sex appeal whatsoever, and how he thought I was lucky that anybody was bothering to sleep with me at all. For a while he kind of scared me, but after some weeks, or months or something I just stopped being able to care. It was whatever. It was just how he was.
“He used to tell me I was messy and lazy, and getting fat-”
Jude cuts in in outrage, “You?”
“I think I actually was. We ate a lot of takeaways back then, I never really cooked anything or ate healthy food, and obviously we were drinking constantly.”
“Evie…”
“It just meant that I was embarrassed to have my clothes off around him, because I worried that on top of everything else he was disgusted by the way I looked. Eventually he’d only sleep with me if he was on drugs. He didn’t like doing it with me when he was sober, I suppose I was just that unappealing to him. Maybe he was imagining somebody else. He just kind of implemented MDMA and cocaine as a part of his routine, so we’d go out and he’d get really fucked up and then we’d go back to my house and have really weird, horrible sex and then we’d sleep the whole day after. I hated that part so much, like, the way his eyes looked and everything, he was insane. I started drinking loads and getting crazy drunk so that I wouldn’t have to think about everything that was happening.”
“Did he have sex with you when you were drunk?”
“Yeah of course. There’s loads of times I know it happened but I can’t remember it at all, I just had to hope, you know, that we’d been safe. That whole part of my life is a bit blurry, to be honest.”
“What the fuck?”
I shrug. “Like, I suppose it’s bad in retrospect but at the time I didn’t think about it, it’s just how it was.”
“You can’t explain that away like that, you can’t just say ‘that’s how it was’ and it’ll make it alright,” he is furious. Palm-shaking-heart-thumping furious, “Where is he now? He says, like he’s going to jump into the car and go and run him over or something.
“I dunno, finished college now so either working or looking for work.”
“‘Dead’ is the answer I was hoping for.”
I snort. “Jude.” And he doesn’t smile. “I’m not kidding.”
“I don’t know about that, but I hope he’ll get what’s coming to him eventually.”
“I can’t believe you were going through that and that freak had his claws in you and I had no idea.” He grasps at his hair in distress, “and I had a feeling something was wrong that day at Jen’s flat, and I didn’t do anything.”
“Look, there’s nothing you could have done, you tried to talk to me and I didn’t want to hear it.”
“I should have been a better friend to you.”
“It’s alright.”
“I just wish that I’d-”
“It’s fine, what’s done is done,” I sigh, “I feel like everyone knew something back then that I didn’t. Like they were all smarter than me.”
“It’s easier to judge a situation when you’re not the one in it.” He shifts, “But it was hard to see you like that at Jen’s.”
“How did I seem?”
“Very sad.”
“I was.”
“Are you still?”
“Yeah, sometimes. But not right now, you make me feel better,” I touch his face and his eyes flutter shut. He draws me into him so my head rests against his chest and instantly I feel my entire being melt and unspool. I hadn’t even realised how tense I was. I let my eyes close too and feel the heat of the fire, listen to the crackle of the wood and his steadying heartbeat.
“You know I’ll never hurt you like that,” He says with sudden anxiety, as though there’s some universe in which I might secretly be thinking that he might, and he holds me to him like he’s terrified to let me go.
“I know you won’t.”
“Never.”
Beginning // Prev // Next
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Who wanna bet that none of us visited Yancy even tho Mark literally reminded us to visit him in Space
#markiplier#I’ve come to make an announcement#yancy the prisoner is a lonely motherfucker#he stole my fucking heart#that’s right he took his beautiful singing voice out and he stole my fucking heart#and he said his loneliness was THIS BIG and I said that’s so sad#so I’m making a call out post on my Twitter dot com#yancy the prisoner you got a huge heart#it’s the size of this prison except way bigger#and guess what? here’s what my yancy watch time looks like#HUHABBBDBBFBB#that’s right babey many views many comments no dislikes#look at that he’s got two endings and a song#he stole my heart so guess what he’s going to steal your heart too#that’s right that’s what you get MY GO VISIT YANCY SUPER LAZER BEAM#except I’m not going to call out only a few of you for not visiting yancy#I’m gonna go higher#IM CALLING OUT MARK FOR NOT VISITING YANCY#HOW DO YOU LIKE THAG MARKIPLIER IM CALING YOU OUT FOR NOT VISITING YANCY YOU IDIOT!!!#YOU HAVE VERY LIMITED TIME UNTIL THE VISITATION HOURS ARE OVER#now get out of my sight before mark calls you out to
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
This Boy (George Harrison x Female!Reader)
A/N: Hey y'all! welcome to my first oneshot! a lot of my stories are very plot-driven and they end up becoming these long chapter fics but I'm gonna see if I can make a handful of oneshots in the next little bit to kind of give yous something to read while waiting for the longer fics to finish up. this is my first one, and it's for Georgie!
Summary: It's date night, and you're more than ready to meet your mystery date; George, however, is not.
WARNINGS: Swearing is in almost all my fics, so this one isn't safe either probably, hints of suggestive behaviour, slow burn, friends to lovers, lack of self-editing probably, etc. *This fic is also LONG AF so I would advise y'all to start reading this when you have nothing else to do*
I'll rate this one as a T. Enjoy, folks!
George checked the clock on the wall again and sighed gently.
You were still getting ready.
As much as it disappointed him, George agreed-- well, more like offered-- to drive you to your blind date one of your girlfriends set you up on.
It's not that he wasn't excited or proud of you for getting yourself out there. He knew you'd been meaning to do that since graduating school.
He was just frustrated at the fact that whichever lucky man was going on a date with you that night wasn't him.
When he found out about the date, he immediately vocalized his distrust for the mystery person, despite knowing absolutely zero about him. You seemed heartbroken at that, and to make it up to you, he offered to drive you to the date.
So there he was, sitting on the sofa in the living area of your flat, waiting for you to finish getting ready.
George had taken you to school dances in the past, and while your mother let you wear makeup to them, it never took you this long to apply it.
You were definitely dressing to impress tonight.
"Lucky man," he just mumbled under his breath at the thought of that boy.
You and George had been friends since you were children, and he deemed you his Best Friend Forever only an hour into your first playtime.
You spent your days as children riding your bikes to the park to play, and helping each other with homework at each other's houses every night.
However, that sort of platonic "buddy-buddy" dynamic changed when the both of you hit puberty.
It wasn't until a boy at George's school questioned him if you were his girlfriend, that George realized he had a crush on you. Some of his friends had girl friends, and they were always teased about whether or not they were dating, but this was the first time anyone had put you and George together.
After this discovery, (which he would endlessly thank the young boy who opened his eyes to the truth in the first place) George began to notice lots of little things about you that he hadn't before.
You would run your fingers through the hair on the back of his head during hugs, you never took your eyes away from him when he was speaking; there hadn't been one time to name that you'd ever made him upset or angry, but more or less excited, and free, and joyous.
And not to mention, the way you called him "Georgie" made his heart pound so loud and hard in his chest that he might as well have just completed a marathon...
He was in love with everything only when you were around.
Actually, as awkward as George thinks it is, Paul helped him realize he was physically attracted to you.
The boys were on their way to George's after school, a few years after George realized he had a little crush on you, and the teenagers both caught sight of you watering the front garden of your home at the request of your mother.
George stopped in his tracks when he saw you, his mouth hanging open as he watched you do your thing. After being enrolled in his boy's school, you never had much time to see one another, as much as it hurt him; so he cherished every moment he could see you.
"If her ma catches you out the window starin' at her daughter's arse the way you're doin' right now Harrison, they'll rip your tongue right out."
George's face went bright red, and he turned to look at Paul in horror, slapping him on the arm for saying such a thing. "I wasn't staring at her like that!" But he couldn't help but steal a glance at your behind since it was now the topic of discussion, though he really didn't want it to be.
Paul knew George felt compelled to say something to you, and he smirked as George awkwardly raised his hand to wave as he called to you from the other side of the street.
"H-hey, Y/n!"
You turned around, and grinned at who you'd seen.
"Hey Georgie! Hi Paulie!" You twiddled your fingers at them, and George's stomach churned in jealousy at the fact you had a nickname for Paul, as well.
"Your garden looks beautiful, Ms. Y/l/n!"
Paul stole George's line. He fucking stole his line!
"A-and you look just as lovely as ever!" George added to one-up his friend.
You put a hand to your heart. "You boys make my heart sing." George took pride in your words despite them partially being for Paul as well.
"We need to see each other more, yeah?" George never expected his question to really get him anywhere, but he was wrong.
"Why not tonight? I don't have any homework and my parents are leaving town 'round five for the weekend to visit my auntie and uncle."
George's answer came quick, and effortlessly. "I'll be 'round for six. Sound good?"
"Perfect! I'll see you tonight then." You waved to the boys again, and then went back to watering the garden after bidding farewell.
The rest of the walk home was just Paul making fun of how lovestruck George was with you, and by the time they got to his house, just down the road from yours, Paul looked over at his buddy and smiled.
"No wonder you value your time with your darlin' over there so much, Magpie. Looks like she would definitely be a fine birdie in bed."
George looked over at Paul, eyes wide, and his voice broke. "... What?!" The thought of going to bed with you never crossed his mind-- well, until that moment.
"Hey, her folks'll be gone by the time you go over! You can make your move then! It's perfect!" Paul's words laced with excitement made George feel panicked, and the boy shook his head worriedly after a moment. "M-maybe it's not the best idea to go tonight..."
"Why not? All you ever wanna do is be alone with her!" Paul set a hand on the other boy's shoulder when he didn't answer. "What's up, George?"
"Paul, I've never even kissed her. She doesn't even know I like her like that! What if she likes someone else?! What do I even do?!" Paul was the biggest heartbreaker George knew. He'd had like... ten girlfriends since they met, and he kissed a whole three of them. They didn't last long, much like the fate of other young relationships, but George took Paul's advice as serious guidance; he needed to in a time like this.
"You just need to be calm. Take some deep breaths. You'll know what to do when the time comes. I know you will."
That night, George had many opportunities to dive in for a kiss, or mention his feelings for you; some of those opportunities he even believed you encouraged, but he didn't budge out of utter fear of rejection. George knew for a fact that Paul was going to facepalm when he asks him for details on the visit to your place.
Instead, the night only consisted of talking, and the only contact you made were a couple of hugs and a kiss on the cheek (which left George a stumbling mess again), though you did agree to spend more time together, which is how your friendship lasted so long.
He was so close to having you, and because he was too scared to make the move Paul (and maybe you) were encouraging him to make so long ago, you slipped through his fingers; and since, the thought of not being able to have you that way never left his mind.
Especially not when you were now a gorgeous young lady, blindly torturing poor George, who beat himself up every day because he lost his chance.
You were like a piece of artwork to George. You could be loved, admired, and looked at by him, but he could never hold you or touch you.
And George hated that.
George wanted you to be his girl.
And you were his girl-- well, in a twisted way. You were always with him, smiling and laughing about nothing and everything, holding onto each other in your darkest nights and guiding one another through personal struggles...
But when other boys started to want you too, George wanted to make it a point to keep the majority of them away.
Some didn't heed George's threats and went on to pursue you anyways, only to be turned down on your front steps by yourself. George never understood why you never reciprocated anybody's feelings, but it's not like he was verbally complaining.
And that's what lead up to tonight. George had wanted you for so long, and the sudden knowledge of a blind date had him in shock, especially since this was your very first time giving in and agreeing to go.
It killed him to know some rando was going to appear out of thin air to whisk you away, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and eventually put his hands on you, thinking his love for you is stronger than any other despite knowing absolutely nothing about how you should be loved, and treated...
But George hid his fury from you because you were excited about this date.
And he would do anything for you.
George's rage-inducing, mind-racing thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your bedroom door clicking shut from behind him. He turned his head, heart in his throat, and you stepped into the room.
You wore a lovely high-waisted navy dress, and a pair of black flats. Your hair was half down, the rest coming together at the back of your head by a matching clip-on bow.
As expected, your makeup was quite noticeable. The burgundy colour of your lips and dark brown eyeshadow had George's head spinning, and he couldn't resist ogling at the way that dress fit you so well...
"So… How do I look? Like, if we were about to go on a date..."
A date? Us? We?!
George's palms began to sweat, and his heart did somersaults. If only.
It was only then that he realized his mouth was hanging slightly ajar, and after snapping it shut, he swallowed in embarrassment, not daring to look anywhere but your eyes again in fear of falling victim to your appearance again.
Imagine not being able to trust your eyes?
"... What would you think?"
George squeaked, his lips moving hesitantly though he didn't make a sound. His face was surely an embarrassing shade of red, and the longer he waited into answer, the more anticipated you looked for a response.
George rose to his feet and approached you, bravely deciding to give you another good onceover after a deep breath, though he kind of lost all sense of feeling in his legs when you smiled at him with that perfect mouth of yours...
"Wow." George sighed, eyelids falling heavy over his brown irises as he admired you.
"I just... you... wow, Y/n." He couldn't come up with a coherent sentence with the way you were staring at him like that.
God, he was absolutely smitten with you.
Your eyes shone joyously as you placed your hand on your heart, and George, as impossible to him as it seemed, fell so much more in love with you than he was just moments before. Your presence rendered him speechless, and the thought inflated your ego a lot more than you would have expected it to.
George remained silent, but his gaze was still glued to you. He'd looked at you for long enough in his life to probably draw you perfectly by memory, but he still took his time to drink in what he was given; because who knew if he'd ever be able to see more of you than this?
"I... I'm-- I'm speechless, is what I am." He cleared his throat after a moment and said, "I... honestly hope my eyes are doing all the talking for me."
"Aw, you're just a sweetiepie, aren't you?"
You beamed at George, blushing as you took another step toward him. "Well Georgie... if you keep looking at me and sweet-talking the way you are..." your warm words were carefully chosen, and it was obvious that George was hanging into every single word you were saying.
"I may just have to pass on this date and spend tonight with you." Your eyelids fell heavy over your eyes, and you offered George a smile that was suggesting something maybe not so innocent.
"Wh-what?!"
"... I said I'm ready to go." You raised your eyebrow in a little confusion at George's flustered state.
Oh my fucking God she didn't even say that?!
Idiot.
Idiot, idiot, idiot.
"... R-right, yes, of course." George shook his head as if to rid his brain of the idea of tricking him like that again. He offered his arm out to you, and you linked yours with his before walking to the door together.
You passed a mirror on the way out, and George caught a glimpse of the both of your reflections, and his chest felt like it was on fire.
He looked so happy to be with you in that moment.
And you looked so happy to be leaving to spend time with another man.
George just hoped at least the reflection of him and you were going on this date together, and both of those smiles were meant for each other.
George pulled up to whatever restaurant this guy wanted to meet you at, which was on the other side of town. George did not approve of this and even reminded you of this on the way there, though you insisted you'd be fine, like you had the couple of times he mentioned this before.
You looked at him after he threw his car into park, and he gave you a little smile after a moment, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"You do look beautiful, Y/n. This guy... he's very lucky."
"I... I don't know what to say."
"Say you believe me."
You didn't say anything. Instead, you smiled sadly, and leaned in to kiss George's cheek. His skin darkened to pink beneath your lips before you could pull away and leave the car with another goodbye, though his ears were ringing and he missed your final farewell.
She doesn't believe me...
George waited until he saw you were seated in the restaurant to put his car back into drive, but something kept him from lifting his foot off the brake. He watched you adjust your silverware at your table, and clasp your hands together in wait.
... Maybe George wanted to wait for this guy to show up.
But would he really want to kill himself by spying on you and watching you fall for someone who wasn't him over the course of one night?
That was the question that made him decide to look back, and pull out of his parking space before he could spot anyone even go near the building. He was in drive and speeding home moments later.
The car ride back to his flat was a quiet one. George kept the radio off, and his fingers drummed against the steering wheel the whole time as if he were almost impatient to get home and do nothing.
Every time he looked in the rear view mirror and saw his eyes stare back at him, it just reminded him that his reflection left that restaurant alone and just as disappointed as his real counterpart.
It wasn't long before George pulled into his building's parking space and sulked out of his car, slamming the door shut. His eyes and nose were burning from the assault of unfallen tears.
He dropped you off to meet this guy. This was all on him this time.
George loved you. He loved you with all his heart, enough to swallow his pride-- sacrifice his happiness for your own.
As much as he didn't want to admit it, dropping you off that night felt like he was letting you go.
And was he?
He pretty much stumbled through the door because his fucks to give for himself were pretty much nonexistent at this point. He kicked his shoes off, not caring if he scuffed up the wall with black marks.
He just wanted to have a long hot shower, crawl into bed, and hide from everyone.
And that's just what he did.
His shower was well over an hour long, and that's where he broke down and cried for the majority of the time. He cried about you, and the situation his own decisions put himself in. He cried in jealousy for the threat sweeping you off your feet right now, and he cried as if that was the last night he'd ever see you again.
When he got out of the shower, well after the stream went cold, he had no more tears to shed. He was dehydrated, and he felt broken. He did a half-assed job of drying himself off before leaving the bathroom and collapsing into bed, only a towel secured around his hips.
His face was pressed into his pillow, and he tucked his arms beneath it and submerged himself even further into the soft fabric.
He recently switched detergent to whichever one you regularly used, and he just took in the familiar scent; anything to make him feel more at home without you actually being present...
George had no idea how long he was in that position for, but he fell asleep like that, only to wake to the sound of the phone ringing.
He got up and stumbled out of his room to ease the obnoxiously loud phone by picking up the call, shouting, and hanging up on whoever decided to phone at this hour-- whichever hour it was.
"Yeah," George rasped through the receiver, his tone laced with underlying irritation. He just wanted to be left alone in his sadness.
"George..."
"... Y/n?" He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the palm of his hand before you spoke, but your voice made him freeze.
"Oh Georgie..." your voice was breaking over the phone, and he could tell it wasn't the connection.
"Y/n, my Love, what's the matter?!"
"George he... He didn't show." George's heart stopped.
He didn't show.
George's grip closed tighter and tighter on the phone receiver, and he could feel the pure rage bubbling in his chest, and the plastic receiver crackling from the force under his fingers.
"Where are you?" He demanded. "I'm coming right now to get you," George was about to start throwing his shoes on, despite wearing absolutely nothing to start off with, his towel discarded and still on the bed from when he passed out.
"The same place you dropped me off."
God dammit, this fucking guy had you go to the other side of town just to be forgotten about.
It was finally settled: if George ever found out who this guy was, he'd kill him for doing this to you.
"Don't move. Be there in five." As soon as George hung up the phone, he took off to his room. He was ready in record time: under a minute. Up until the day he died, George wouldn't have been able to dress as quick as he did that night, and he never knew how he did it.
What really mattered was that George got to the other side of town in about five minutes, as he said over the phone.
George whipped into the parking lot and got out of the car. He hurried over to the front of the building to go in and search for you, but he caught a glimpse of you sitting at the curb as he grabbed the door handle.
His grip eased on the lockset, and he slowly turned to you. You were facing away from him, arms folded as you tried to shield yourself from the cool evening wind. You had no clue he was even behind you.
George sighed gently, shedding his jacket off and placing it on your shoulders without another word. He could see your whole body relax from the weighted piece of clothing, and he wondered if his scent was comforting for you too, as it was vice versa.
George heard you breathe out, but you sniffled afterwards. It broke his heart to see you like this. George looked around to see if anyone was watching, because if there was a chance this guy was cackling away in a parked car at the sight of you in tears, George would have had no problem kicking his headlights in and slashing his tires.
He dropped to the curb and sat down right next to you, not hesitating to circle his arm around your body.
At his touch, you curled yourself into a ball, and George scooped you up to squeeze you tight. And against his chest, when you knew you were safe from all harm, you gently sobbed.
George let you cry it all out, and the tighter you held onto him, the tighter he held onto you.
"Am I just unlovable George...? Is that it?" Your words were quiet and muffled, but George heard every syllable you mustered.
He pulled away from your embrace to look you in the eyes, and his grip on your arms were firm, but not tight. "Now Y/n, you do not for one second even think you're unlovable. That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." His eyebrows were lowered in anger at the very idea of you feeling unloved.
Tears began to well up in your eyes, and George's expression softened. He reached his hand up to your face, and he could feel you shaking. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow again.
George wished then more than ever that he was the one who was supposed to see you. He would have shown up.
"Y/n, you deserve so much better than this. If you were mine, I’d make sure sitting alone on the curb, stood up, would be the last place you'd ever find yourself, especially when you were so excited to go out..."
George didn't know where his little spurt of confidence came from, but he was more focused on the words he was choosing to use with you, and what he was all going to say.
"... If I were yours...?" You sniffled again, cheeks and the tip of your nose turning pink and George paused at the sudden realization.
You still had a chance to be his.
And all because that boy didn't show up, he still had time to figure out how he could pull it all off; but it had to be tonight.
He took a deep breath.
"I mean, anyone would be lucky to date you. I just... I sometimes wonder why you were never mine. Why you're not mine..." his voice lowered throughout the sentence, and the end of his confession was barely above a whisper.
You watched George for a moment, lips parted, as if you couldn't believe your ears, and the young man panicked a little, deciding to disregard his last words before it suddenly became the topic of discussion.
"Oh, my Love," George's eyes suddenly saddened as he reached out to wipe away your fresh tears and smeared makeup with his thumb. Your bottom lip trembled at the contact, and he sighed.
"Just because he didn't show up doesn't mean your evening has gone to waste." He stood up and turned to look down at you.
"The night is still young." He then held his hand out in front of you, and you looked at it for a moment as if you didn't know what he wanted from you.
"Y/n... give me one night. Let me show you how a man should always treat you."
He wasn't quite sure if he just unintentionally asked you on a real life date, or if you thought of all this as an act, but even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, it gave George the chance of a lifetime to at least pretend you were his, even if this opportunity only lasted one night.
"Please."
You didn't move at first, but George was patient. You eventually slowly reached your hand out, and George helped you up, not making the effort to let go of you afterwards.
George looked up at the restaurant, and did a double take. "... You... you don't even like fancy places like this, am I wrong?" All you could think about when looking at him was that he knew you so well.
"A place like this on a first date is a clear sign he'd leave halfway through and I'd be stuck with the bill." George smiled a little, and so did you.
You wiped your final stray tear from your cheek and George gave your other hand a squeeze. "... I'd rather get a burger and go for a walk, to be honest."
"Then that's what we'll do," George confirmed with a nod. It was settled, then.
George and you strolled to the car, still hand-in-hand, and he courteously opened your door to help you in. He ran over to the other side afterwards and climbed in behind the wheel before pulling out and taking off to find somewhere for you both to eat.
You both came across this quiet burger place downtown, and the both of you were able to get a booth in the back for privacy so you could both scarf down your meals in peace.
George ordered the same food you did, and you both settled on sharing a milkshake together (a single milkshake eventually became two).
"God," you looked around the nearly empty joint before turning your gaze back to George. "Do you know how much more comfortable I feel in here?"
"Even when you're dressed like you belong in a dress shop window?" George smiled around his straw and you matched his grin. "Shut up. At least my hair is brushed out."
The poor guy had no clue until now that he forgot to comb his hair out after his depression shower, embarrassingly clawing his fingers through his locks to at least tidy up the mess on his head.
You just laughed out that you were teasing him, and the joyous hiccups from your laughter had George briefly forgetting everything negative that had happened so far that night.
After settling down a little, your food was brought out and you both started eating.
There wasn't much for the both of you to talk about other than the part of your day when you weren't together, and it wasn't like George wanted to mention what happened to him in the last two hours or make you upset by talking about your night.
Instead you both settled on joking about old times. Before the both of you knew it, George had you giggling and smiling once again before your dessert even came, and when the waitress came around to your table with your two-person cookie skillet, you grinned even wider.
You thanked the waitress before she went on her way, and you looked up across the treat to George, whom you were half expecting to be drooling over the cookie. Instead, he was in a dream-like trance, soft gaze fixed on you, and only you. You weren't too sure if he even knew the skillet was in front of him, he was so distracted.
"George...?" You called to him gently as to not frighten him when coming back down to reality. His response was almost immediate, like he could hear you.
And maybe he did.
"... I'm sorry, I don't know how many times I've tried to say this already tonight but have chickened out, but you look just..." George was examining every inch of you that he could see and you blushed, casting your eyes down to the table.
"Angel, look at me." George reached over the table and rested his hand over yours. You lifted your head to look him in the eye, and he hesitated for a moment. Your full attention flustered him, then again it always did, but he took a deep breath.
"You look heavenly, Y/n."
You said nothing. This time, he had you speechless, but nothing wasn't the response he was looking for.
"Dontcha believe me...?" His question echoed through your brain, and you blinked. George scanned your eyes after giving your hand a squeeze. He knew you had something to say, and he was at the edge of his seat in anticipation for your words.
"... Do you really think so?"
"Are you kidding me?! Y/n, I... when you came out of your room tonight I just... looking at you right now, I'm at a loss for words. Heavenly doesn't even scratch the surface. No word exists that perfectly describes how you look to me. Now, or ever."
There was yet another spurt of confidence that washed over George. He had a feeling his words and actions were getting the both of you somewhere, especially when his final sentence had you blushing the way you were.
At least he knew he was doing something right.
George's grip on your hand tightened a little, and he flipped your hands over so your palm was face-up in his. He brought your hand closer to him, and he kissed your fingertips before leaving a final one at the centre of your palm. His eyes never left your red face as he did this, and he grinned against your hand when you offered him a shy smile.
Oh... she IS actually liking this.
When he pulled away, George looked down at the still-untouched dessert, and he smiled, releasing another nervous breath he was holding as he finally let go of your hand. "Let's finish up so we can go on our walk. Sound good, my Love?"
You only nodded before digging in with him, every nudge of his hand against yours reducing you to a blushing mess, and George, who was gaining more confidence as every second passed, would just smile to himself knowing he was successfully turning the tables on you.
But it wasn't yet the time to give in and confess, as much as George wanted to. He still had a nice long walk to woo you on, and then he had to do the important step of walking you to your apartment door at the end of the night, and God knows that was the part he was dying to get to.
You finished your dessert not long after and George payed the bill. After helping you out of the booth, you'd left hand-in-hand again.
The both of you stepped out into the cool night and you looked up at George. "Are you cold? Did you want your jacket back?"
You were holding it in your other hand since you'd taken it off at dinner, and you shoved it in his direction without another word.
He laughed and took the jacket from you, unfolding it and pulling it back around your shoulders before rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm.
"You'll catch a cold without it. Besides, you look better in it anyways." He leaned in and kissed your cheek, smiling proudly to himself when he pulled away and continued to lead you to the car, deciding it'd be smoother to not turn around and gauge for a reaction from you.
Like before, George courteously opened the car door for you, and closed it when you were in. Their destination was his place. It wasn't for the reason one would think, but the idea of driving you to his home and inviting you in with every intention of walking right past the kettle made George's legs restless.
In reality there was a park down the road from his flat that cut pretty much directly to your own humble abode. You'd walked the trail hundreds of times together to look at the pretty flowers growing in the garden, but something told George that this time, like everything else happening that day, was going to be very different.
When you pulled up to his building he raced you to get to your door for the second time of the night; the first being at the burger place when you first arrived. He took your hand and helped you out of the car, and he didn't let go, even after locking the doors to his car and leading you both down the road.
There was a silence that fell between the both of you. It wasn't bad. You took this time to think about your night, as did George. With every step down the road and into the park you took, the smile on your face only grew wider. As for George, he began to sweat with every step he took.
Every foot forward led him closer and closer to your door, where he was going to finally let everything off his chest and confess to you. The problem was that George's confidence was quickly draining, and this was something he needed to do.
He eventually let go of your hand to wipe his palms off on his pant leg, and at the immediate loss of contact, you were turning to him with a confused look on your face.
"Sorry uh..." he breathed out slowly, cheeks dusted pink. "I-I don't know why, but I'm kinda nervous."
Your look of confusion faded into an unreadable one. "Was it holding my hand?"
George shook his head. "No no, not that, I want to hold your hand."
"So what's the problem?"
He just shook his head again. "Maybe it's just... the stress of making sure tonight is perfect for you."
"What?!" Your reaction was sudden, and George's eyebrows were raised high up on his forehead at your exclamation.
"George, tonight has already been perfect for me! I had a great meal, I'm on a lovely walk with you..." you reached out to take his hand again, and he lifted his gaze from his shoes to look you in the eye. You smiled up at him from under the streetlight, and George smiled back a little.
"Georgie, I would never have asked for a better night." You squeezed his fingers with yours and tugged him forward gently. "C'mon, Magpie. Let's get home. It'll be cooling down soon, and I don't want you walking outside much longer than needed tonight."
George followed behind, but you still took your time coming home since the both of you got caught up in another conversation. This time, it was about the flowers you were passing in the park.
"... I used to water those for you, y'know." He pointed to a cluster of marigolds. To think that was ten years earlier and they still stayed put, growing outwards and stronger than ever.
"I used to check on them every day to make sure they weren't dying. You told me one time you really liked those flowers and I just..." he smiled a little at the memory. "I just couldn't get enough of your smile every time you saw them."
You turned to look up at him. You had absolutely no clue he did that for you. It made you love the flowers even more, and your heart jumped a little when you realized that the marigolds were the very reason George insisted you both took the trail all the tine.
"I'll still come across them when passing flower shops. I always think of you when I see them."
"Wow. George, I... I never knew you paid that much attention to me."
"Why wouldn't I? You're my best friend."
And George didn't say anything after that, especially when you didn't respond to his last comment, which he didn't even mean to say.
By the time George could think up a sentence to save himself from friend-zoning the both of you right then and there, he felt like he'd left it for too long.
His heart was sinking, and he tried to shake off the comment best he could, and walked you the rest of the way home.
His stomach was in a knot as he looked up at your apartment building. The front door to the lobby looked intimidating, and his palms began to sweat again. You slipped your hand out of George's, and it distracted him from his racing thoughts.
"You think I'm gonna just leave you here?" His question was sudden, and you blinked once.
"I'm sorry?" You looked from George, to the apartment door which was ten feet away from the both of you. "But George, I'm home?"
"I have to walk you to your door." You laughed at his response, head thrown back as you sighed. "You mean to tell me you, George Harrison, are gonna walk up five flights of stairs in the next two minutes just to make sure you can hear me lock my door and know I'm safe?"
"Would it be a real date if I didn't?"
There was another beat of silence as George watched your eyes shift from left to right in thought. You pursed your lips a little, and then looked him in the eye.
"... Suppose it wouldn't be then, no."
"Then may I walk you to your door, Y/n?"
You finally answered him with a simple nod of your head, and George reached out to take your hand again. He wordlessly led you to the door which he opened for you, and then brought you to the flight of stairs. Nowhere else to go but up.
In about two minutes, you and George got to the fifth floor. As soon as he entered the hall, it felt like the walls were slowly closing together as you both took quiet, careful steps towards the end of the way.
The entire time, your hands were glued together, and no one let go, even when you were both finally stopped, and standing in front of your door.
"I'm sorry about tonight, Y/n. I know you were saying earlier tonight turned out perfect and everything but..." George's brain was still on that platonic comment he made on the walk.
"George, there is no one I would have rather spent tonight with than you. No one."
George squeezed your hand, and then sighed. "I just wish tonight happened under different circumstances."
"Different circumstances?" You repeated a little confused, and the boy in front of you pursed his lips and nodded his head.
Deep breaths. Here it goes.
"Y/n, ever since I found out about this date, my blood has just been boiling with jealousy for that boy. Hell, I still don't even know his name and I could tell you he isn't good for you."
You looked taken aback. Jealousy was definitely not where you thought he was going with all of this.
"I fell in love with you, Y/n. Years ago. And because I feared rejection, I didn't want to take my chances and say anything. But the truth of the matter is that I'd be the happiest person alive just to be able to love you openly. I can't stand to see you cry the way he made you tonight."
Again, you stood there, no words coming to mind to respond with. Your silence didn't make George stop.
"To think for years my feelings for you haven't gone away. I've always thought you felt the same, yet you were never mine." George paused. "When can this boy get you back again, Y/n?"
There was a long silence, his eyes searching yours for your answer, and you were staring up at him like a deer in headlights.
"I-- if I'd known-- I never thought-- George, I had no clue." He could see the lost look on your face, and it made his heart ache, especially when your lip began to tremble and your eyes started filling to the brim with tears.
"Why do you think I turned down every guy who's tried to get with me? I just... I never thought you'd love me back, Georgie." His emotions sank into a deep dark guilt. All this time, and you felt the same way about him...
And then he blinked.
You feel the same way about him!
George reached out to you, his hand cupping the side of your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. Your tears began to fall, and he pulled you into his chest tightly for a moment. "My Love," he mumbled, pulling away just far enough for him to see your face again.
"Oh, even when you're crying, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever set eyes on..." There was a beat of nothing; just the sound of shallow breaths shared between the both of you before George began to inch in slowly towards you.
"... George, what are you doing...?" Your question was gentle, and you didn't stop him from coming any closer. You didn't want to stop him.
"Something I should've done a long time ago."
His attention fixated to your mouth once before your lips finally clashed together.
For over a decade, George had waited for the moment he tasted your lips; and now that it was here, he was almost scared he wouldn't know what to do.
The both of you were holding your breath since you both felt a little unsure at first, but it was a given, he was kissing his childhood best friend, and you were, too. You kissed back a little, and George exhaled lightly through his nose, a little relieved knowing you were getting a little more comfortable with the situation.
George's hands fell to your waist, fingers curling around your body as he eventually pulled you even closer. You parted your lips a little, and he bit down on your bottom lip, pulling away after hearing you gasp.
"Oh! Did I hurt you? I'm--" George could barely rush an apology out before you pulled him down to kiss him again, and pushing him backwards until his back was flat against your door. He watched as you closed the space between you again, and your lips were on his again.
His heart was pounding, ears ringing loudly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, and all the boy could remember thinking about was how blissful it all was in that moment. George threw his arms around you and started pushing back just a little.
You pulled away from him to gasp in a breath, George's hands grabbing your arms and pinning you against your door so he could put you in the place he was moments before; to give you the moment to experience just a fraction of all the love he would be able to eventually give to you.
His lips briefly found the crook of your neck and you moaned quietly as George sucked at your skin a little, which only resulted in him pulling away just to lean back in to kiss your lips and swallow your pleasant hums.
You eventually pulled away to face him again, lips swelled and pink, and breaths quick. You never thought you'd have so much trouble breathing while kissing someone.
Then again, it's not everyday that the man you're kissing is George Harrison.
"I know it's rare to ask this on a first date but..." George leaned down to attach his lips to the column of your throat, and he hummed against your skin when you moaned gently, delaying your question for a moment.
"... Did you maybe wanna, I don't know, come in, stick around for some tea?"
"Is that even a question?" George asked lowly against your neck, and you smiled. You reached into your purse to retrieve your apartment keys, which you blindly stuck into the keyhole since George was back to kissing you again, and the both of you stumbled through the door as soon as you got it open.
You and George kicked your shoes off after shutting the door, and you pushed him up against the wall in the front corridor to kiss him once again.
Ten years was way too long for the both of you to be deprived of one another any further, and George gladly let you migrate your lips to his neck after a moment, tilting his head back for you to make things a little easier.
With your head buried into his neck and your arms circled around one another, George lazily opened this eyes to watch himself in that same mirror across the hall he looked into a few hours prior.
All the boy could do was smile to himself, breathing heavily as he watched your reflection switch to the other side of his neck after leaving a mark on the right side of his throat.
Not only was his reflection successful in this date tonight, but George himself pulled off the biggest risk he could imagine and it paid off.
He finally got the girl of his dreams.
----------------------------------------
A/A/N: honestly, this fic lives rent free in my head and it has been since I wrote it, so I gotta show it off to y'all. Again, I know it was long, but I really hope you enjoy it <3
PERMENANT TAG LIST
@culturefiendtrashqueen
@rogermeddow
(message me if you want to be added to any of my oneshot/queen/beatles/chapter taglists)
#the beatles#john lennon#john lennon x reader#paul mccartney#paul mccartney x reader#george harrison#george harrison x reader#ringo starr#ringo starr x reader#paul mccharmly
412 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wannabe
Summary: The Sixth Year Gryffindor boys discover the Spice Girls, but Harry only wants to be Ginny’s lover.
Yes, you read that right. This fluffy, kind-of-crack HBP missing moment was born from a conversation in the Hinny Discord (and my 90s tween years).
Content warning: If you aren’t into wank jokes, teenage boys shamelessly ogling pop icons, unfiltered Ron, and don’t agree that Sporty was the least attractive Spice Girl (apologies, Mel C), then this may not be the fic for you ;)
Since historical accuracy is paramount to this story (sarcasm), the magazine referenced in the fic is the March 1997 issue of The Face. Google it if you want to see the cover and photos (you know you want to).
Thank you @thedistantdusk, beta supreme, for editing and always encouraging my ridiculousness ;) Happy Thursday!
Read it below the cut, or on Ao3.
Harry flopped onto his bed, tired but pleased with how well the team was flying. At this rate, they’d have a fighting chance to win the cup against Ravenclaw, especially now that Katie was back. It’d been their best practice yet, although he’d been repeatedly distracted by Ginny, laughing at her antics, admiring the way her eyes blazed with determination just before she scored a goal, trying not to stare at her arse as she bent low over her broomstick.
“What’s that?” Ron said, jolting Harry from his thoughts.
Ron looked across the dormitory at Seamus, who sat on his bed staring intently at a magazine with Dean looking over his shoulder.
“See for yourself, mate.” Seamus smirked, holding up the magazine to reveal the cover, a Muggle photograph of five girls, all scantily clad in lingerie and extremely fit.
Harry sat up immediately for a better look. Even Neville, from his bed next to Harry’s, had his eyes glued to the cover.
Ron let out a low whistle. “Where’d you get that?” he asked, clamoring across the room to stand next to Seamus for a better look.
“Took it from my little sister over Easter hols and brought it back for Seamus,” Dean said, grinning. “Thought he’d appreciate it.”
“What’s your little sister doing with something like this?”
“Not what you’ll be doing with it later, that’s for sure,” Seamus said, making a rude hand gesture. Ron flipped him off as the rest of them laughed.
“They’re the Spice Girls,” Dean explained. “A Muggle singing group. All the girls are obsessed with them right now. Girl Power, you know?”
Harry didn’t know, but he decided he would very much like to find out as he walked over for a closer look.
“Fuck, they’re fit,” Ron said, looking over Seamus’ shoulder at the cover of the magazine.
Harry had to agree. There was a perky, smiling blonde, two brunettes in the middle with dark, shiny hair and sultry gazes, a redhead with great tits next to them, and a pretty girl with wild curls and tanned skin posed seated at their feet.
“And this is just the cover, wait ‘til you see the photos inside.” Seamus said, waggling an eyebrow.
“They’re everywhere right now- can’t turn on the radio without hearing their songs- they’re all over the telly too,” Dean said, as the rest of them continued to stare at the cover. “They go by nicknames, and the girls all have favorites.”
Dean pointed to the blonde. “This one’s Baby, there’s Sporty on her other side. The redhead is Ginger-“
“Original, that one,” Harry said dryly, and the others laughed.
Dean continued as the laughter subsided. “The one next to her with that stuck up look is Posh, and the one sitting down is Scary- she’s my sister’s favorite. I’m with her on that one.” He finished with a wink.
“Reckon Scary’s my favorite too,” Seamus said, his tone thick with bravado.
“No way,” Ron said, indignant, “that Posh one, she’s the fittest. Look at her legs.”
“Nah, she’s a bit too high and mighty. She looks like she’d always be telling you what to do,” Dean said.
“Just Ron’s type then,” Seamus quipped.
Dean and Seamus roared with laughter. Out of loyalty, Harry tried (but failed) to suppress his own laughter, his shoulders shaking with mirth.
“Oh, fuck off,” Ron replied, the tips of his ears red.
“What’s The Chosen One’s choice?” Seamus asked, turning to Harry.
Harry rolled his eyes. “I’d go with Ginger.”
“Oooooh, Harry picks the redhead,” Seamus said, eyebrow raised, exchanging a pointed look with Dean.
“Got a thing for gingers, do you then?”
Shit. Panic that his casual admission might reveal his most private, fiercely-guarded feelings about Ginny began to overtake him.
“Didn’t pick her for her hair color, mate,” Harry retorted, trying to sound flippant, as he gestured to her tits.
Seamus laughed and slapped Harry’s shoulder. Harry breathed a small sigh of relief, hoping that he hadn’t just made the fact that he fancied Ginny completely obvious. In truth, the girl did remind him a bit of Ginny- not just her hair color, but her build too, and something about the way she carried herself in the photo. He tried not to blush, though heat rushed to his cheeks. He stole a glance at Ron who, thankfully, was still gaping at the magazine and not paying attention to the exchange.
“What’s your vote, then, Nev?” Seamus asked.
Neville, standing next to Harry, his cheeks already pink, looked startled to be included. “Erm, she looks nice,” he said softly, motioning towards the blonde, “but they’re all good looking, really,” he added, his round face now flaming scarlet.
“Nobody for Sporty then?” Dean asked, laughing.
“Nah, who's picking Sporty over any of those four?” Ron said bluntly. “Let’s see what’s inside, then.”
The photo spread inside the magazine did not disappoint, Harry thought, taking in the individual, full body photos of each girl in very suggestive poses.
“Damn,” Ron said appreciatively.
“Told you it was good.”
The dormitory grew quiet for a moment as Seamus flipped through the pages.
“Wait,” said Ron, pointing to a line in the article, “This says the lyrics to their hit song are ‘If you wannabe my lover, you gotta get with my friends.’ Really?”
“Are you actually reading the article, mate? That’s impressive,” Harry said wryly.
“It’s true- heard it a million times over Easter break, that bloody song’s on the radio every other minute,” Dean replied.
“Well, it’s fucking terrible advice. What girl wants you getting with her friends?” Ron said.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
“Ron,” a voice called. Harry realized instantly that it was Ginny.
Fuck. Seamus shoved the magazine under the duvet as the rest of them scrambled to disperse, Neville tripping over his own feet, Ron hitting his head on the top of the bedpost as he ducked to sit on his bed.
“Come in,” Ron called.
Ginny opened the door and leaned on the side of the doorframe. She looked unfairly beautiful, Harry thought, her cheeks still rosy from practice, her long hair loose and flowing down her back, ending just above the swell of her arse, which looked fantastic in her tight joggers.
Her eyes narrowed as she took in the scene. The five of them had each ended up on their respective beds, fully dressed, shoes and all, with no books or parchment in sight. It must’ve looked strange.
She quirked an eyebrow. “You five having a cosy little chat?”
Neville chuckled nervously. Seamus coughed. Ron’s ears turned red. Dean stared at the duvet, determined to avoid her gaze, probably for a variety of reasons, Harry thought.
Ginny shook her head slightly. “Never mind, I’m sure I don’t even want to know,” she said, grinning at Harry. His cheeks grew warm, and he gave a slight shrug back.
She turned to Ron, her tone more serious. “Hermione asked me to get you. The Second Years were playing Exploding Snap at a table in the common room, and the explosion blew up some inkwells. There’s ink all over everything. She needs your help cleaning off the boys. Euan Abercrombie’s covered head to toe in it.”
“Little idiots,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. He stood and walked past Ginny onto the spiral staircase.
“Great practice, Harry,” Ginny said. She beamed at him, her smile brilliant, and in that moment, he wished, more than anything, that they were alone in the dormitory, instead of awkwardly surrounded by her (very recent) ex, Seamus, and Neville.
“You too. We’re going to flatten them,” he managed, hoping he didn’t sound like his breath was caught in his throat, which it was.
She just winked back. His heart, already fluttering faster than the wings of a snitch, skipped a beat. “Night all,” she said, with a wave to Neville.
As she closed the door, Harry sank back onto his pillows, thinking only of Ginny, the magazine long forgotten.
#hinny#hinny fanfic#hbp missing moment#sort of crack#fluff#spice up your life#unfiltered ron weasley
203 notes
·
View notes
Text
You must have some review for me (1/ 2)
pairing: Geraskier
word count: ~2k
read on AO3
part 2
summary: Geralt gives Jaskier three-word reviews and Jaskier is not very happy with them. Until he is.
---
"Fuck off, bard."
"How very dare you!" Jaskier clutched one hand above his heart, pointing the other accusatorily at Geralt. "I asked for a review, not for an impudence. At least the first review I ever got from you was constructive criticism, but you've only gotten worse since then."
Geralt shrugged and hid his shit-eating grin unsuccessfully behind a tankard. "You wanted three words and that's what you got."
Jaskier huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "That's it. I'll never ask you for your opinion again."
They both were very well aware that that was a lie. Still, Geralt said, "Thank fuck for that."
Jaskier narrowed his eyes. Oh, if this was how Geralt was going to be then Jaskier would not hold back either. He would pester Geralt for reviews until Geralt admitted that Jaskier was good.
-
Jaskier knew Geralt hated the song. He had complained often enough about the length, subject matter and utter obnoxiousness of it.
So naturally, Jaskier kept adding more and more verses to The Fishmonger’s Daughter. Sometimes it was just too much fun riling Geralt up.
For now, the drunks in the tavern were eating it up, cheering for the song to continue. Jaskier beamed at them and happily obliged. Truly, he was having the time of his life.
Contrary to him, Geralt seemed to very much despise every second of this. He kept glaring at Jaskier, only interrupting his brooding by taking occasional swigs of his ale. He probably contemplated throwing the drink at Jaskier. Or maybe he just thought his performance was better when Geralt himself was drunk. Either way, Geralt’s thoughts were surely full of impertinence.
As provocatively as humanly possible, Jaskier danced past the table Geralt sat at and stared daggers at Jaskier.
In between lines, Jaskier stopped playing and stole a sip of Geralt’s drink.
“How do you like the performance, darling?” He asked, putting his hands back on the lute and playing a little flourish to distract from the fact that he had stopped singing for now.
“Jaskier,” Geralt growled in warning.
“Ah, that’s not a review, I’m afraid.” Jaskier winked at him and began making his way back to the centre of the tavern. “Give me a review and I might consider stopping. Three words or less.”
Geralt glowered. “Stop singing already.”
Jaskier’s grin widened. He continued playing.
-
“It was a forktail, not a dragon.”
Jaskier huffed and put his lute down. He should have known better than to ask Geralt for constructive criticism while he composed what might just be his most important song this year.
“Really, Geralt? That’s what you focus on?”
Geralt shrugged and leaned back on the bed of the inn they were currently staying at. “I don’t know what you want from me. All of your songs are inaccurate.”
“It’s not about accuracy. It’s about making the audience feel things. I need them to weep and to laugh and to fall in love with adventures as if they had experienced them themselves. So, what does the song make you feel?”
“Mainly annoyance.”
“Marvellous,” Jaskier said bitterly and flopped down on the bed, burying his head in his hands. He knew Geralt didn’t mean it, and any other day Jaskier would have laughed and teased him back, but Jaskier was stressed and stuck and he could really use some support right now. “I guess I’ll just try to annoy the judges of the most important bardic competition of the year into giving me points.” He groaned. “This is terrible.”
The mattress dipped when Geralt shifted, scooting a little closer. He radiated awkwardness and if he had been anyone else he might have started fiddling with his fingers in nervousness. As it was, Geralt just stayed quiet for an uncomfortably long moment, before looking at Jaskier from the side and putting a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s not terrible.”
Jaskier let out a quiet laugh. “Well, you’re terrible at giving compliments.”
“Wasn’t supposed to be a compliment. I’m just saying your song can’t be worse than Valdo Marx’”
Ever so slowly, Jaskier could feel a smile stretch his lips. Geralt could pretend not to care all he wanted, but remembering a name Jaskier had dropped only a handful of times when he had been talking about music in order to cheer him up, was something that proved his claims of disinterest lies.
“Of course I’m better than Marx,” Jaskier said and bumped his shoulder into Geralt’s. “And just you wait. When the judges declare me the winner, you’re going to regret having called my song only ‘not terrible’.”
Geralt grunted in disagreement, but he didn’t try to hide his almost proud smile.
That alone was better than any review Jaskier was likely to get from Geralt any time soon. He found that that was good enough. For now.
-
After Jaskier finished his last song of the day - this one not so much about any gruesome fight or danger but about the good parts of the Path, like the stars that shone brighter over the open fields than they did above any city - Jaskier didn't even have to ask for his three words.
As soon as he came back to the table Geralt was sitting at and snatched the ale out of Geralt's hand, as had become his habit, Geralt quietly said, "It was good."
The shock of the almost shy admission was enough to make Jaskier choke on the ale.
"Excuse me?” he rasped out between coughs. “Geralt are you alright? Do you feel sick?"
He reached out to put a hand on Geralt’s forehead in mock-concern. Geralt let out a grunt and turned away. If Jaskier hadn't known any better he have almost thought that the tips of Geralt's ears were tinged with a lovely shade of red.
A grin spread over Jaskier's face and he let his hand wander to Geralt’s chin, turning it so he could see his face again.
"I'm just asking," he said in a teasing tone, "because for a second there I thought I had heard a compliment coming from you. Not even one wrapped in an insult!"
"Fuck off," Geralt said in a strangely raspy voice, lacking any heat. "I take it back."
A laugh bubbled up in Jaskier's throat and he put his hand on Geralt's arm for balance as he threw his head back when the laugh finally escaped him. "Ah there you are. Still the same Geralt that I know and love."
He could feel Geralt's muscles clench under his touch, but Geralt didn't pull away.
"You're insufferable."
"I know," Jaskier said with mirth dancing in his eyes. "But you love it."
He took another swig of the ale, mostly so that he wouldn't have to see Geralt's reaction to his words.
As he sat the tankard down, a strange disappointment overcame Jaskier. He had gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? Geralt had finally given him the praise he deserved. And yet Jaskier didn't want to end their little game. He wanted to keep asking Geralt for his opinion and he wanted Geralt to keep teasing him with impertinent replies or give him this soft look as he told him his song was good.
Maybe it wouldn't hurt if Jaskier continued to play this game a little longer.
-
"You are good," Geralt said without looking at Jaskier. If Jaskier hadn't known any better, he'd have said that Geralt way avoiding his eyes.
"How unoriginal.” He rolled his eyes with a smirk. “You already said that last time."
Not that it mattered. He would gladly listen to Geralt tell him he was good over and over again.
"No I didn't." Geralt's eyes flickered up to Jaskier's for a second before darting away again. "Last time I said it was good. The song."
"Is there a difference?"
Geralt stared into the fire for a long time. His jaw was working as if he couldn't decide whether he should explain himself or not. Eventually he settled on a simple "Yes."
Jaskier raised his eyebrows, waiting for Geralt to elaborate, but no more words left Geralt's mouth. Jaskier kept searching his face with the sinking feeling that he was missing something crucial.
-
Geralt didn’t talk. Normally, that wouldn’t have bothered Jaskier too much. Over the time he had spent with Geralt, he had gotten used to his silence and to cheerfully filling it with his own words.
Except today it felt wrong to try and do so. Geralt was different. His silence was different. The way he had refused to look at Jaskier even once since returning from the hunt was different.
Geralt hadn’t told him what exactly had happened – what had gone wrong – but he didn’t need to. Jaskier had spent enough time with him to realise that the scratches on his face were caused by fingernails and not claws. He knew that the bruises blossoming on his skin were caused by stones rather than a monster’s body slamming into him. He knew that no fear caused by a monster could get Geralt into this unresponsive state. Only words of hatred and terror flung at Geralt, claiming that Geralt himself was the monster, could do such a thing.
Jaskier wanted to touch Geralt, to reassure him. To hold him close and tell him that he was better than anything he was told, anything that he thought himself. He wanted to whisper words of kindness into Geralt’s hair until he believed them. But Geralt’s back was turned to him and he was tense, ready to flee if Jaskier so much as took a step in his direction.
Jaskier fingers moved on their own accord. There were not words to this song. Geralt didn’t need words right now. He wouldn’t have believed them.
But as Jaskier’s fingers plucked away on his lute, pouring his understanding, his comfort, his love into it, the tension slowly eased out of Geralt.
Softly, Jaskier began to hum the tune, trying to tell with the melody what Geralt would reject with words. He could do nothing but hope it helped. He doubted it did.
Geralt turned, not with his full body, but just enough that he could watch Jaskier as he played.
When Jaskier eyes met his and found them full of some emotion he couldn’t name – something soft and vulnerable and achingly beautiful – his fingers faltered and his throat grew tight, choking his voice.
Something flickered in Geralt’s eyes and suddenly he looked strangely young and afraid. “Keep playing, please?” His voice was so small.
Jaskier’s heart broke for him. Slowly, as if not to spook a frightened animal, Jaskier came closer to Geralt until their shoulders touched.
He kept playing and he could almost imagine that the faint rumble in Geralt’s chest was him humming in tune.
He didn’t imagine the way Geralt leaned into him and pressed his head into Jaskier’s shoulder as if being close to Jaskier was the only comfort he could imagine.
-
This song was terrible. It was objectively the worst and if Jaskier had had any audience other than Geralt, he would have been ashamed to even think about playing such a thing.
But like this, with only Roach judging him and Geralt looking at him almost fondly, Jaskier warbled away to his heart’s content.
“Roach, the mighty steed
Does many valiant deeds
So she deserves all the treats
Yes, on that, we can all be agreed!”
A toddler could have come up with better rhymes and the metre Jaskier used could not have been worse.
But he was laughing and enjoying himself as he sang this little ditty. There was something freeing about not having to worry about being good for once, in being allowed to sing as badly as he wanted to just for the fun of it.
Geralt didn’t laugh at him, didn’t even roll his eyes. Instead he had this look in his eyes that Jaskier had seen more and more often lately and that could only be described as fond. One of the rare smiles that only Jaskier ever got to see tugged the corner of his lips up.
Jaskier ended his performance with an overly dramatic flourish and gave an exaggerated bow to Geralt and Roach.
When he righted himself, he knew that his face was flushed; from the exertion of dancing, from the excitement of having carefree fun and from the wave of emotion brought forth by the soft look on Geralt’s face.
“Where’s my review?” Jaskier teased, his heart pounding in his chest.
Geralt rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. “You’re really never going to stop asking, are you?”
“Not until you tell me what I want to hear.” Jaskier cocked his head to the side and grinned. “Don’t be shy, you can admit it. That right there was a masterpiece. A song so great it shall never be surpassed.”
Geralt huffed, but his smile grew wider. He kept his mouth shut, almost as if he wanted to see how much longer Jaskier would go on with this ridiculousness.
Jaskier narrowed his eyes at Geralt playfully. “Come on, just say it. You know you love it.”
He jabbed Geralt in the chest, more to see his reaction than anything else.
Geralt caught his hand and held it right there against his chest. His smile grew impossibly softer.
“I don’t love the song. You want three words or less? Fine.” He brought Jaskier’s hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against his knuckles. “I love you.”
#geraskier#geraltxjaskier#geralt x jaskier#witcher#witcher fic#fic#my writing#three words or less#geralt#jaskier
125 notes
·
View notes
Text
I want to see you smile
Pairing: Pietro Maximoff × fem!Stark! reader
Word count: 1.7K
Warnings: swearing (I think that’s it? If not, please let me know)
Type: fluff, friends to lovers
Summary: What happens when one friend falls in love with another? Are feelings mutual?
A/N: If you haven’t already noticed, I’m in love with friends to lovers trope. So yes, that’s what I’m writing. Again. In this fic, Thanos doesn’t exsist and everyone is alive. Just for clarification, Jenna is supossed to be Morgan’s babysitter. Also am I passing my obsession with Soy Luna to Morgan here? Yes, I am. This song is just so beautiful, yet sad at the same time. I don’t really like this, but oh weel, not everything can be amazing. Enjoy <3
Here's the link to the song
“And don’t forget to turn in your essays tomorrow!” yells the teacher, right before the bell rings, dismissing you from your last class. You pick up your backpack and look at Peter, who just stood up from his chair. “Are we hanging out today?” you ask. “Yes, we have to go to the compound, remember? Everyone will be there, there’s some important meeting, even we have to attend,” he explains. “But Steve said it’s not going to be long, so we can hang out after,” he says and you nod. Peter and you were best friends, ever since junior year of high school. The first time your dad introduced him to you (not knowing you two already know each other), was hilarious.
“Y/N, come in here honey!” yelled Tony from the common area. You were doing your homework, minding your business when you heard your dad calling you. “Coming dad!” you answered back. Once you got to the dining area, your father immediately started to speak “I want you to meet someone.” he said, gesturing to the boy beside him. As your head turns, you recognize this boy as none other than Peter Parker. “Peter?!”
“Y/N?!” you both scream at the same time. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your eyes wide, surprise lacing your voice. “What am I doing here? The better question is what are you doing here?” he squeaked, his expression matching yours. “Woah, Woah, Woah, you two know each other?” Tony asked, just as confused as you were. “Yes we know each other, he’s basically my best friend,” you explained, Tony’s jaw dropping to the ground. “So that’s why you never let me come to your house,” chuckled Peter, finally putting all the pieces together. “Yea, that’s why.” you gently smiled. “Let’s introduce again, shall we? Hello, I’m Y/N, Y/N Stark.” you introduced yourself, making Peter laugh slightly. “Hey Y/N, I’m Peter Parker, also known as Spider-man.” now it was your turn to be surprised. “You’re Spider-man?!?” you asked. “And you’re a Stark! We’re even.”
“I guess we are.”
Once you got to the compound, everyone was already there, even Morgan, to your surprise. “Mom, what’s Morgan doing here?” you question. “Wait a second, mom what are you doing here??” you now almost scream. “Didn’t Dad tell you?” she says and you shook your head no. “Oh, well, I told him to tell you, but what can you expect from Tony Stark?” she sighs. “Last mission went wrong and now a HYDRA base knows the addresses of all the Avengers, including ours, that’s why I’m here. And about Morgan... well we couldn’t reach Jenna, so we took her with us.” she frowns. “Oh, okay-” you were cut off, by none other than the famous Captain America. “Okay, so, I know you’re probably asking yourself ´What the hell are we doing here on our free day?´ but I have a good explanation for it. It has come to our attention that while we were on our last mission, fighting off HYDRA agents, some of them snuck into our jet and stole some information, including our home addresses. Now, since more than half of us lives here, or is from another planet,” he says, gesturing to Thor, “it’s not so serious, except for Tony, Pepper, Y/N, Peter, and Bruce. Your addresses have been compromised, so I would suggest for you to stay here for a couple of weeks, just to be safe.” he ends his long explanation, and all of you agree to stay here. “Wow, I need to call Aunt May,” says Peter, and you nod, gesturing for him to go. After you shoo Peter away, to go and talk to May, Pietro appears behind you, his usual smirk printed on his lips “Hey, printsessa.” he greets and you wave. “Hello Pietro, how are you?” you smile, his presence always making you happy, no matter how hard the day was. “I’m good, you?" he questions. “I’m okay, it just sucks a little, all this not-going-home thing. But at least I get the time to hang out with my favorite speedster.” you chuckle, Pietro joining. You make small talk, just usual things. Somehow you end on the couch and the next time you look at the clock, it’s already time for dinner. Today is Wanda’s turn to cook, and to say you are starving is an understatement. You couldn’t wait for her famous paprikash.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s been a couple of days since the meeting and you and Peter just came back from school, to a very unusual scene. Before you, there are all the Avengers, looking at something on the big screen. You and Peter look at each other confused, as to what could leave them in such a state. As you get closer, you see what they’re all so interested in. It’s a show called Soy Luna and you burst out laughing, now all the attention focusing on you. “Y-you’re watch-watching Soy Lu-Luna?” you say through giggles, making some of them blush. “Well, as a matter of fact, it really sucks you in.” defends Natasha, receiving hums of agreement. “Sure, whatever you say.”
“On which episode are you?” Peter asks. “I think it’s season 3, episode 25,” answers Wanda. “Oh my god, I love this episode, scoot over,” you say to Bucky, gesturing for him to move. He moves a little to the right, making space between him and Wanda. You sit in the middle while Peter sits on the ground, besides Steve. “Morgan wanted to watch it, right?” you ask, a smirk still playing on your lips. “Yea.” Wanda sighs defeated, and your smile widens, just a little. Right as you were about to turn your attention to the screen, Morgan appears in front of your eyes. “Hey bubba, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be watching the series?” you question, your brows furrowed. “Yea, I just wanted to be with you!” she exclaims and turns around, sitting into your lap. “Awwww,” you whisper, overwhelmed with her cuteness. 10 minutes in, Morgan screams that your favorite song is coming. “Look Y/N, Matteo is about to perform your favorite song!”
“You’re right Morgan,” you say, trying to calm her down from her excited state. “Will you sing it? Pleaseee,” she demands, looking at you with puppy eyes. Oh, damn it, not her puppy eyes, you think, agreeing, because c’mon, who can say no to those pretty eyes of hers. “But only because you asked nicely,” you add, making Morgan smile. Soon enough, the first tunes of Quiero verte sonreir start to play. She looks at you expectantly, as do all the others. Right before you start singing you make eye contact with Pietro.
“No lo puedo evitar,
yo no te dejo de pensar,
y las noches son frías si tú no estás.
No lo puedo entender,
como no te has dado cuenta...”
(I can’t help it, I can’t stop thinking about you, and the nights are cold, if you’re not here. I don’t understand, how you haven’t noticed...)
There’s something in his eyes, that makes you not look away, not wanting to look away. Finally, your stare breaks, as Morgan bumps you, wanting some attention. “...Pero tengo miedo de pensar,
que no te vayas enamorar...”
(...But I'm afraid to think, that you’re not going to fall in love...)
You bump her nose, making your heart feel loved, because you made your little sister happy, even if just for two minutes.
Your eyes are back on Pietro, decided to dedicate the chorus to him, even if he doesn’t understand you.
“... Quiero verte sonreír,
quiero verte junto a mí,
no puedo ya no quiero,
no es fácil ocultar mis miedos...”
(I want to see you smile, I want to see you next to me, I can’t take it anymore, I don’t want to, it's not easy to hide my fears...)
But you forgot there’s someone else in the room, who speaks Spanish fluently. As the song comes to an end, you know what’s coming, so right when you finish with your singing, you quickly scream: “Someone cover Morgan’s eyes, she’s too innocent to see what’s coming.” as a joke, not expecting for Bucky to actually cover her eyes. “Oi, Barnes, I was kidding!” you say while laughing your ass off. You spend the rest of your afternoon with your team, binge-watching Soy Luna, completely falling into trance. The duty of cooking dinner falls on you and Peter, others still not turning their eyes away from the screen. You decided to cook Mac and cheese, the only thing you both actually know how to cook. “How long have you been into Pietro?” he suddenly asks, making you choke on your water. “Wh- what?” you struggle while coughing, Peter tapping you on your back, helping you to regain your breath again. “C’mon, you don’t have to pretend with me.” he smiles, reminding you just how of an awesome friend he is. “Is it that obvious?” you ask, looking at him like you just swallowed a spider. “No, but I notice these things, the way you look at him, the way your lips always form a smile, the second you lay eyes on him, the way you speak to him like you’re gonna melt any second. Besides, I speak Spanish, so that right there,” he gestures to the living room, “tells me enough.” he finishes with a light chuckle. “Shit, I forgot you understand Spanish,” you exclaim, joining him. “Soo, you like me?” you hear someone say, his thick accent lacing his voice, knowing who he was. “Fuck,” you whisper under your breath, slowly turning around. “How much have you heard?” you carefully ask, scrunching your nose and closing your eyes. “Enough,” he says, that adorably annoying smirk playing on his lips. “I’m gonna just slowly go, because, well, this is awkward.” Peter quickly exits the kitchen, making you angry at him for leaving. “Is it true?” you hear him say, and you focus your attention back on him. Oh, fuck it, you think before speaking “Yes, it is. But I know you don’t feel the same, so can we just pretend this didn’t happen, because I don’t want to make things akw-” he crashes his lips onto yours, guiding them into a sweet yet passionate kiss. His hands are on your waist, yours travelling up his body till you reach his hair, slowly playing with his blond curls. Cheers erupt from the door, making you look at them. And there they are, the whole team clapping and cheering, a “Finally! I couldn’t take the tension anymore!” escaping Wanda, making you chuckle. “I hate all of you, I swear to god,” you say, looking away from them and into those beautiful ocean eyes of his.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taglist: @voidmalfoy @cunningambitousdetermined @crazy-beautiful @rorybutnotgilmore
Feedback is very much appreciated <3
If you want to be added to my taglist, just send me an ask or message me. And please specify, if you want to be added to my general, HP or Marvel taglist :)
#pietro maximoff imagine#pietro maximoff × reader#pietro maximoff¸× y/n#pietro maximoff × you#avengers x reader#avengers imagine
179 notes
·
View notes
Text
Birthday boy
A/N: I tried. HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUCKY BARNES!!! ❤️💜💙💚💕
WORDS: 1838
WARNINGS: swearing, smut (graphic, 18+)
PAIRING: Bucky Barnes x reader {A/B/O AU}
DISCLAIMERS: English isn´t my first language so sorry for mistakes.
I stole pic from ig of man who looks just like Bucky!!! 😱🤣
Divider by @firefly-graphics
You woke when Sun rays tickled your face. Space next to you was empty and cold which meant that Bucky, your Alpha and husband, went to check borders with his friends. Today was his birthday and you had plans for you both. Nice yummy breakfast, you as a dessert, small party with your big family and then hopefully special evening for you present. You checked if it´s still under pile of your t-shirts and then went down to make breakfast.
Bucky walked in the kitchen twenty minutes later, sweaty. „Good morning beautiful.” he kissed top of your head. „Morning handsome.” He wanted to hug you, but you pushed him away, laughing. „Have a shower first.” „When I´ll be done with you, we both will need another one! Do I really have to go?” He looked at you with puppy eyes. „I dare you to sit to the table dirty and sweaty! Now, shoo.” „Damn you, you feisty Omega.” He groaned but left.
You have been together for six years, four of it as married couple. When you were younger, you were sure you don’t wanna tie down to someone in very young age. But Fate had other plans and one day you literally fell down the stairs right into arms of the most beautiful Alpha in the college. Since that day you couldn’t get his smell from your head. Few weeks later you went on your first date and years later you were married. He worked as auto mechanic and because you didn't have kids yet, you still had your work too.
You heard when he stopped the shower and put bacon and eggs on pan. „All clean and fresh wifey!” Bucky walked to you and kissed you. You smelled cypress and sandalwood from his warm body and deepened kiss a little bit. But sizzling sound ruined everything. „I think our food is ready my little Omega.” he smirked at your pouty face. „Quicker we will be done with this, quicker we can have fun.”
He seated you on kitchen counter, your legs open. Your hands were everywhere, his on your hips as you were stealing air from each other in heated kisses. „Bedroom.” he breathed and picked you up. You were on third step when Steve and Sam walked into your house. „Sorry Y/N, but we need Bucky.” Your husband growled and you apologetically smiled at him. „Again? I was with you in the morning guys.” „We know Buck, but as Alphas we have duties. Even on your birthday.” said Steve. „We will wait outside.” He nudged Sam. „Yeah and girls are waiting for you in the Dome Y/N.” They both left and he finally put you down. „Sometimes I hate being an Alpha. Too much work.” He buried his face into crook of your neck where your connection mark was and then kissed his way to your lips. „I´ll see you later, my sweet Omega.” You kissed his cheek and went to change your pyjama for something more appropriate.
You loved your small family. As you walked to Dome you saw younglings playing with youngest Alpha of your pack, Peter. You all lived in cabin camp encircled by forest and you couldn’t imagine better life.
„Y/N! You are finally here.” „Hi Wan. I heard you need me?” „Yes. You know one Alpha eats for three and we need more food because of guests. Pepper, Sharon and Laura are in the kitchen.” „Yes boss!” Laughing, you walked in the kitchen and were surprised that there was still space to walk. „Are you ok?” you asked your friends, who looked like they were hit by heat wave. „It´s not funny Y/N. It so hot here and windows are not very helpful.” „Sorry Pepper. I´m here to help.” You end up baking cakes and bread and gossiping about your Alphas.
Bucky found you hours later, dressed nicely in jeans and flannel shirt. „Why is your hair wet?” you asked him and yanked croissant from his hand. „Hey! I´m hungry.” „You will have plenty of time later. Now lets go home. I can´t show up on your birthday party covered up in flour.” He laughed with you, easily picking you up and carrying you to your cabin.
You were in shower and he sat on the toilet. „Boys took me to cliff. You know we love jumping in water. Thus wet hair.” „You are like small puppies in adult bodies, I swear.” „Yet you married me.” His eyes were scanning your naked body with dilated pupils and his tongue wetted his lips. „I'm the happiest Alpha on this planet.” His mouth crushed into yours and somehow you ended up lying on your bed underneath him. „I wanted you all morning doll.” He nipped at your neck, clavicles and you gasped when his tongue touched your hardened nipples. You could feel him getting hard as he was rubbing against your wet core. His kisses travelled down your ribs, belly and hips. And finally when he was ready to taste his finest dessert, noise from outside stopped him. You both sighted, defeated. „Damn it! Why they have to cock-blocking me on my birthday?!” You stood up with a huff and put on Bucky´s favourite dress with over-the-knee socks and you chuckled when you heard his breath hitched. „You like it?” You turned to him. „Fuck Omega. You are killing me! Once we are done at the party I´m putting a baby in you.” You moaned at the idea of it. „That´s what you want?” You nodded vigorously. „Words, my sweet Omega.” His fingers traced your face and shoulders. „Yes Alpha. I want your pups.” He smiled wildly. „Great. I love you doll.” He kissed you gently. „Time to go.” He took your hand and together you went to welcome your friends from other packs.
Bucky was happy. He was having great time eating, drinking, singing, playing games and telling stories with other members yet he was checking you from time to time. Once you were with other Omegas, then eating and talking to young Betas. But his heart fluttered when he saw you playing with kids. You were laughing and tickling them and you glowed under warm light in the Dome. He felt his Alpha stirring deep inside of him and your smell overpowered the others. It was feral feel he couldn’t fight any more. He had to have you.
You instinctively felt his eyes on you and when you looked his way he was already standing and walking your way. He was few metres away from you but you smelled his cypress and sandalwood immediately. It made you all warm and your heart sped up. „Sorry kids. I need some fresh air.” They all protested but you were already walking away.
„Fuck you and fuck all my friends.” he growled once he had you pinned against barn wall in the dark. He wasn't angry, just frustrated. And his voice was making you wetter with every word he said. „I will make you feel better.” Your small hand was fumbling with his belt but he stopped you. „No. There is no time. I have to be in you. Now.” You quickly took off your panties and seconds late you were lifted by his strong arms. His cock was warm at your entrance and his breath shallow. „Please Bucky. Keep your promise my big, strong Alpha. Put a baby in me.” He snarled and pushed himself inside of you in one movement. Your loud moans for sure heard guests at the party even over the music. But neither of you cared. „Please move Bucky.” He smirked and started shifting in and out in fast strokes. His thumb was playing with your clit and in mere minutes you felt him growing inside of you and you revealed your neck for him more. His knot swelled and his teeth sank in your soft flesh. Your body was built for this but it was still like someone threw you under hot water. Your body was burning, you were hardly breathing and your head was numb from all that pleasure. Bucky was slowly licking drops of blood from your neck and then he kissed you. „You are the best my sweet, sweet Omega.” He pushed damp hair from your face. „You think it worked?” You were trying for baby for over two months now. You cheekily smirked at him. „It worked three weeks ago.” He was shocked. „What?! And you didn't tell me?” „Happy birthday daddy.” He kissed you again, this time tenderly. „I can´t believe it! All those role plays and other things we did, worked.” You smiled at him lovingly. „It did.” For moment you were quiet. „We should go back.” he sighted. „But damn girl your triggered my Rut again.” He pull out off you slowly and helped you to clean yourself with his shirt. „And you my Heat, so we are even.” He crouched down, his face in front of your belly. „Hello baby.” he said softly. „I love you. And your momma.” You caressed his head and started to cry. „Oh baby, we made her teary. Don’t worry. I´m gonna fix it.” He stood up and took your face in his hands. „You are not going on the party again. Go home. I will be there soon.” He kissed your nose and was watching as you walked to your cabin.
He went the other direction. Some unmated Omegas were glancing at him but he didn't care. He stood up in the middle of small stage and tapped on microphone. Everyone looked at him. „I wanna thank you all for coming to my birthday party and for the presents. But now I have to leave you and take care of my pregnant wife.” His smile was wide when he looked over the surprised faces. „I'm gonna be a father!” he shouted and room erupted in happy screams and congratulations. „Ok, ok. Yeah, it´s amazing. Thank you all again and good night.” He almost ran away from there as he felt another hot wave rush through his body.
You were waiting for him in your bed with wooden box and card on top of it. „Is it for me?” You nodded and watched him as he opened the card and started to cry over black and white photo. „It´s so tiny.” he choked. „I know.” Now you were crying too. „Our baby Barnes.” „And what´s in the box?” „Open it.” He did and took out small pair of trainers. One had 'girl' on it and the other one had 'boy'. „I don’t know which one we are having so I took both.” you whispered. He reached in box again and found soft bodysuits in different colours and a dummy. After few moments when he was just staring at it and silently crying, he smiled at you. „It´s best birthday present ever. Thank you doll.” You put everything away and climbed on top of him. „Ready for round two, birthday boy?”
89 notes
·
View notes
Text
drawbridge
read it on ao3
Ship: Ricky Bowen/EJ Caswell
Summary: Snippets of EJ Caswell's life leading up to the mystery that is Ricky Bowen.
Notes: Hello. I decided to bite the bullet and post something here! This technically is in my Trans!EJ and Genderqueer!Ricky AU but I haven't properly written anything for it yet so consider this one to be the first official fic within that universe. Feel free to send some asks or other headcanons in my inbox about the AU! I'd love to hear what people think (but don't be unnecessarily mean. I will delete that very quickly.)
Disclaimer: I'm not an expert in all things transgender or genderqueer. I am writing from my own experience within the spectrum however so it's truthful to what I have been through, but will not represent everyone else's experiences. I also have friends within the spectrum who have given me great advice on how to go about these things but once again, it won't be accurate to everyone's experiences.
Warnings: Mentions of gender dysphoria, transphobia, and neglectful parents
People always told EJ that he had the picture perfect family.
His mom and dad were successful corporate lawyers, they lived in the wealthiest suburb in all of Salt Lake City, and he was the kind of child other parents would compare their own children to saying, "why can't you be more like EJ?"
But EJ knows that's farthest from the truth.
He doesn't have the picture perfect life or the paragon of White American families that people think they do. His parents are affectionate and supportive only when there are people around to comment on it. Most of the time, they're not even at home, leaving all of the child raising to their maids and other house servants. EJ spends more time at Ashlyn's house than he does at home because at least his aunt and uncle actually treat him like a son.
Because there are days his parents would forget they have a son. Sometimes they'd slip and call him their daughter, which makes EJ want to disappear from this world altogether. He supposes he should be grateful that they even bothered to pay for all the things he asked for — binders, testosterone shots, and regular visits to the doctor to check up on him throughout his transition. And he is grateful. He knows so many kids like him that can't even afford a decent sized binder without going bankrupt. He used to be that kid until he gathered up all his courage to come out to his parents.
But what they told him?
"Well, if you're gonna be our son, you will have to work twice as hard to make us proud now."
Yeah. It's a lot to process when you're 12 years old and scared shitless that you'd be disowned for "disrupting the natural order." But he figures things could be worse. So he sucks it up and vows to become the kind of son that his parents could truly brag about.
When EJ was a kid, he loved mysteries. His parents were the greatest mystery of them all. He's spent so much of his time trying to figure out what makes them happy, or angry, or sad. He's put the clues together and has a cork board of pictures and red string at the forefront of his mind whenever he so much as tries to interact with them. Soon, he sort of figured out what makes his parents smile at him — when EJ is excellent.
So, he became excellent at all kinds of sports, took up piano lessons, studied until his eyeballs burned with the lowlight of his desk lamp — all so that he could maybe get a pat on the back from his dad and a small smile from his mom. Their versions of "good job" or "keep it up." He drank that all in, craved it even, and worked his whole life until now to get even an iota of his parents' affection.
So, when he meets Ricky Bowen, the lanky and extremely clumsy skater who seems to live in the detention room, he was met with a brand new mystery to solve.
"Who's that?" EJ whispers into Nini's ear, who just seems to be irritated by the new person's presence.
"That's Ricky," she says with the barest hint of affection but with a whole lot of irritation. "My ex."
"Huh," He says, intrigued by the way Ricky's movements stutter like a half-finished stop motion film and how their wide doe eyes scan the room like — unironically — a deer in headlights. They looked nervous, confused, and all around terrified and EJ wants to reach out to them and tell them that this was a safe space. That they could be whoever they wanted to be in the theater.
He glances at Nini when Ricky starts singing a song that she seems to recognize. The immediate tensing of her shoulders and the way she subconsciously reaches out for EJ's hand for support tells him that this song... means something. Or meant something. EJ's not quite sure but he squeezes Nini's hand in silent reassurance, bringing himself to half-glare at the guitar playing skater just a few feet before him.
--
He met Nini during theater camp. A firecracker of talent with a voice that could melt the heart of even the coldest man on earth. She was beautiful in the spotlight and even more ethereal beneath the stars. She was kind, gentle, and a mystery that EJ solved quickly enough. She wore her heart on her sleeve despite it being broken because she believes that broken hearts can be mended with time and patience.
Nini was patient with him. She was patient with him when he took her up the little hill next to the campsite just to watch the stars on an old picnic blanket he stole from the camp counselors. She was patient with him when he couldn't keep up with the dance steps. Her hand was warm in his own and the flush of her palm by his neck was a grounding force that kept his head from going in the clouds.
She was especially patient with him when he took her to an empty tent and told her about his life. Nini was kind. Nini was patient. Nini was safe. And if she were to walk away and tell him that she wanted nothing to do with him after what he told her, he would have understood and learned to not associate kind brown eyes and ukulele calloused fingers to what could be barely described as home.
But she held his hand in her tinier ones, a smile on her face that radiated warmth that seeped into the depths of his soul, and told him that she was proud of him.
It was the first time that someone was proud of him... for just being him.
He cried into her arms that night, knowing he's got a lifelong friend within the kind brown eyes and ukulele calloused fingers of one Nini Salazar-Roberts.
--
"She thinks I'm a Chad?" He asks, less incredulously and more with a burning curiosity.
Nini rubs his arm comfortingly but he keeps staring at the cast list like it was going to burst into flames any second. "You're still a Troy understudy! You could still go on as him in one of the shows."
"Shows only run for three nights, Nini." He says with barely concealed frustration. Great. If he can't even get the role he was technically destined to play, how the hell is he going to explain himself to his parents?
You're not the lead? Oh, then we won't watch. If you're not onstage the whole time, why be there?
EJ grits his teeth and slowly brings his gaze to the person who has just taken away one more way for him to prove himself to his parents. Ricky Fucking Bowen, who stands there once again with their enormous brown eyes, gaping like a fish. EJ wants to deck them in the face. But Nini's hold on his arm grounds him back to reality and he lets out a long breath through his nose.
This is gonna be a long next few months.
--
"Look, I'm just trying to make the best out of a bad situation."
"Don't try," He ends up saying, still wiping at the blood caused by the basketball Ricky hit him with only moments ago. "It's painful to watch you do something you clearly don't want to do."
"What makes you think I don't want to do this?" Ricky asks with furrowed brows and EJ throws the wadded up tissue paper stained with his blood into the trash.
"You hated musicals before you auditioned. You landed the part of Troy without even fucking trying. And now you think you can get through rehearsals without fucking trying? It's tiring to work with someone who couldn't give two shits about this musical in the first place!" He says, every sentence rising in volume as he steps closer and closer to Ricky. "You also need to stay the fuck away from Nini."
Ricky scoffs then. "Why? Cause you're her boyfriend?"
"What? And you are?" He retaliates, which effectively makes Ricky click their mouth shut. EJ smirks. "Yeah. That's what I thought."
"Nini can choose whoever she wants to talk to." Ricky ends up saying with tense shoulders and a glare that could murder if EJ weren't already a person who doesn't fear death. "You can't tell me what to do."
"Well someone has to!" EJ throws his hands up in frustration, grabbing his jacket and zipping it up angrily. "Because you don't listen to Nini though, do you? Have you ever listened to her? Do you listen to anybody?"
"EJ I—"
"You better listen to me right now Ricky Bowen," he laces every syllable of Ricky's name with venom. "Stop trying to make things right. Stop trying to become a person you're not. If you actually cared about Nini or – god forbid – the musical, you'd stop trying and just get your shit together."
EJ doesn't even bother to look back at Ricky as he exits the bathroom, unaware of the look in Ricky's eyes when he walked away.
--
It isn't until Ricky approaches him one day after rehearsals that EJ was finally starting to unravel the mystery that was Ricky Bowen.
"Hey... EJ?" Ricky asks, looking at anywhere but at him and EJ would have been annoyed if it weren't for the way Ricky was holding themselves in front of him. They were tense, eyes glassy and unfocused whenever EJ caught a glance, and their fingers were gripping their bag straps so tightly that he was afraid Ricky was going to rip it apart if they weren't careful.
"Hey Ricky," He says with a softer voice than he's ever used with Ricky. "Is there something you need?"
Ricky's eyes dart around the still full rehearsal room, at the dangerously close proximity Miss Jenn was, at the stage managers that were just behind EJ who were reviewing the blocking notes, and finally at Nini who was engaged in a conversation with Carlos and Seb. Ricky's eyes lingered on Nini for a bit before they reluctantly settled on EJ's pristine white sneakers. "I would have normally asked Nini for this but – and you can say no by the way I'd completely understand – it's just..."
Ricky looks around again before leaning closer to EJ and shakily whispering, "Do you have any tampons?"
And just like that, the walls that were built around a certain Ricky Bowen were starting to crack. And EJ was allowed to see the smallest snippet of the kind of vulnerability that Ricky was capable of.
And it was the kind of vulnerability that he could relate to completely.
"My emergency stash is in my locker," He says, hastily packing up the rest of his things while Ricky continues to stand there dumbfounded. When EJ turns back to him with his own bag over his shoulder, he could see that there are a few unshed tears shining in Ricky's eyes. EJ softens for a second, knowing how difficult it must have been for Ricky to come to him for something so private.
"Come on. I'll even guard the bathroom for you." Ricky eventually follows him after a few seconds of just staring at his back and they fall in step around the corner. Ricky stays silent, fingers all fidgety and eyes still darting around like they'll be caught any second. EJ, instinctually, wraps a comforting arm around Ricky's shoulders. Ricky doesn't relax immediately but they do lean a little closer, somehow finding the weight of EJ's arm around them safe.
They eventually reach EJ's locker and Ricky smiles a bit because it's directly across from Sharpay's famous pink lockers. "Did you choose this spot specifically for Sharpay's lockers?"
EJ glances behind him and chuckles, rummaging through his stuff. "Oh yeah. If you say Ashley Tisdale three times in a row while touching her locker, you're guaranteed good fortune for at least a week."
Ricky looks at him with a smirk. "Have you tried that before?"
"Every year during finals week. I'm telling you, that shit works."
"Or maybe you're just really smart."
"Maybe," EJ says, finally locating his emergency stash of period essentials. "Or maybe it's just Ashley Tisdale bopping me to the top."
That's when Ricky lets out a laugh — an honest to god booming belly laugh that makes EJ pause just to stare at him. They look... nice like this. Without the worry lines and longing gazes at a girl who won't give them the time of day. They look just like a little kid, carefree and alive despite the world crumbling all around them, and EJ feels a weird surge of pride at being the person who made Ricky laugh like that.
He wants Ricky to laugh like that more. He wants to be the person who makes Ricky laugh like that more.
And so the walls around Ricky crack a little further, and the drawbridge is opened for one weary traveler to come in.
EJ doesn't notice the cracks on his own walls, nor the knowing little princess who watches from the east tower, smiling.
--
"Hey, what are your pronouns?"
Ricky doesn't look up from their practice skateboard, concentrating hard on their balance. "I don't have any. I'm just Ricky." They look up though, giving EJ a warm smile. "But go ahead and use any pronouns with me. I don't mind if it's you."
"So would you mind if I call you your majesty?"
EJ doesn't miss the flush on Ricky's cheeks at that and definitely doesn't miss the way they say "I'd like that very much." with the barest hint of embarrassment.
"Okay," EJ says with his chin propped up in his hands. "Your majesty."
Ricky falls off of their practice skateboard then, soon glaring up at a cackling EJ still with a blushing face.
--
EJ forgot his binder today.
And his body loved reminding him every time he took a step.
Thankfully, there wasn't going to be water polo practice today and he could get away with wearing multiple layers to school. But even with the sports bra, the t-shirt, the sweatshirt, and the letterman jacket doing a good job at making his chest look flat, he still felt his skin crawl looking at the mirror. His jeans hugged him a little too tightly, forcing him to notice the still feminine curve of his hips. His sports bra was a tad smaller than the last time he wore it, so the pinch at his chest doubled in size.
EJ resolved that he was not going to have a good day today.
But today was tech rehearsals and he couldn't ditch that. He was starting to really enjoy rehearsals now that he and Ricky are on good terms. Even the stage managers ask him to hang out with them time to time outside of rehearsals. EJ actually felt like... he really belonged somewhere now. And he wasn't going to let this ruin it for him. Not today.
"Hey EJ," He heard Nini say to him as he got out of his car. "What's with all the layers? It's pretty hot today."
"It's one of those days, Neens." He says with a heavy sigh and Nini just grabs his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Ricky rolls up to them two seconds later, their head suspiciously missing a helmet.
"How many times do I have to tell you to wear a helmet when you're skateboarding, Ricky?" EJ tries to scold the junior despite this weirdly overwhelming fondness growing inside of him every time he even looks at Ricky now.
"Haven't gotten into an accident yet," Ricky shrugs, smiling politely at Nini and changing it into a cocky little smirk the second they look at EJ.
"Yet being the operative word here," EJ rolls his eyes and opens his trunk for Ricky to stash his board in for later. "I won't drive you to the hospital if you end up getting a concussion for not wearing a helmet."
"Yes you will." Ricky says, knocking their shoulders together. "You love me!"
EJ freezes for a bit but before he could even respond, Ricky is already catching up to Big Red and Gina, waving back at EJ and Nini with a wide grin. EJ stares at him for a few seconds, not quite sure how to process the last few moments, until Nini waves a hand in front of his face.
"Hello? Earth to EJ?"
"Huh?"
"Care to share with the class what's going on?" The little smirk on her lips says it all and EJ was not going to fall for that.
"Nope. There's nothing to share."
"Mhm," She says, looping her arm around EJ as soon as he closed his trunk. "Of course there isn't, EJ." Nini pretends not to see EJ staring at Ricky as they walk into school. EJ pretends to not notice that she's pretending to not see EJ pretending to not overtly stare at Ricky.
Besides, EJ has gotten pretty good at pretending.
--
Aaaannndd that's it for now. I hope you guys liked that! I really enjoyed exploring trans!ej and genderqueer!ricky through this au and it means a lot to me. Maybe next time I'll write something in ricky's pov but for now thanks for reading !!
#ej caswell#ricky bowen#nini salazar roberts#rj#hsmtmts#trans!ej#genderqueer!ricky#tw: gender dysphoria#tw: transphobia#tw: neglectful parents#cloud's writing now#hsmtmts fanfiction#they're not really together yet here but#ej is Definitely pining at the end tho#and nini is the best i will not tolerate nini slander in my blog#caswen#ricky x ej#ej x ricky
41 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gold Rush
Part 5 of We Dance Together Now
An O’Knutzy au where Leo and Logan are still playing for the Lions, but Finn is a musician/grad student they met by chance on a roadie to Montreal.
Here are the first few parts!
Part 1 - Jingle Bell Rock
Part 2 - This City
Part 3 - Shut Up and Drive
Part 4 - Wicked Game
I also stuck this up on AO3, my username there is the same :)
These beautiful characters and their world belong to the incredible @lumosinlove ! Her work is amazing, and I’m so happy to get to play with some of the people and places she’s created <3
The song that Finn is singing in this chapter is Gold Rush, by Taylor Swift. And it’s the song that inspired this entire fic :):)
I imagined Finn playing it like the version by Travis Atreo! (If you haven’t listened to that you should :) )
I hope you like it!!!
---------------------------------------------------------------
Logan
It was too early the next morning, or maybe too late from the night before, when Logan finally gave up on the idea of sleep. The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon when stole out onto the balcony, closing the door softly behind him and leaning against it. He stayed there for a moment, still and quiet in the pre-dawn chill, and let the fresh air wash over him. He let his eyes close and breathed in deep- once, twice, three times.
It was better, being out here. He always felt more grounded, more like himself, outside. He pushed away from the door and wandered over to the patio chair in the corner, out of sight from anyone who might wander into the living room.
He wasn’t sure how to talk to the other two after last night. He had been off all night, he knew. Having Finn there to watch them play, seeing Leo get hit on the ice, making it to the play-offs… it had already been a lot. And then that moment in Cap’s kitchen…
He slid down in his chair, scrubbing his face with his palms as he tried unsuccessfully to block out the memory of Finn’s eyes on his, of Leo’s chest flush against his back.
What he should have done was leave with Dumo when he’d offered. But no, of course he wouldn’t do the sensible thing. He had to be cocky and assume he could keep it under control, when clearly he was an idiot who didn’t know what control meant. And by the time he figured that out it had been too late and he had no good excuse to uber back home without making it obvious that he didn’t want to be around them.
So instead he had just walked home with Finn and Leo, like they had planned. And when they had finally gotten inside, just the three of them, alone in the dark apartment, Logan had promptly panicked and bolted off to his room with hardly a word. Clearly the sign of a man with his shit together.
Plus, to add insult to injury, shutting himself in his room hadn’t even helped. In fact, it had made it worse. Because all he had to do was look around to see that the room had clearly been put together for him. It had happened gradually when he had started spending nights there. First, the sheets had been replaced with new ones in his favourite colour after a slightly drunk and very passionate argument with Finn about the importance of having favourite colours (Finn was in favour. Logan was not. At least not out loud. But Finn had figured it out anyway). Then a container of the Tiger Balm he was constantly rubbing on his legs had appeared on his nightstand after a stretch of home games. There were always two towels waiting for him, after Finn had caught him scrounging around the linen closet for an extra one evening. There was a water bottle on his dresser, a phone charger plugged in next to it. He had clothes in the drawers and an extra pillow to hug while he slept—Leo must have shared that detail.
His toothbrush was in the bathroom, his favourite snacks were always in the fridge and a spare blanket had made a new home on the couch for when he inevitably got cold while the other two overheated. He’d had more than one pair of very fluffy socks thrown at his head when Finn caught him shoving his toes between the couch cushions to keep warm, and those socks were sitting on the end of his bed even now. Everything he needed to be comfortable, Finn had provided, without ever saying a word about it.
It had surprised Logan at first, how thoughtful Finn was underneath all that chaos. How observant. Him and Leo were similar that way. They were similar in a lot of ways, actually, and it both warmed and twisted Logan’s heart to watch as the two of them grew closer.
Last night, as he had closed his bedroom door behind him and took it all in, it was the twisting that took over. That room had felt like a safe haven for him for the past four months, but now everything in it reminded him of what he could never have. And so he had just laid there, on top of the blankets, staring at the ceiling and trying to will himself to sleep.
The balcony door creaked open again as the sun finally broke away from the skyline, and Logan didn’t have to look over to know it was Leo.
His tall silhouette moved forward to lean his forearms on the balcony railing. He didn’t look at Logan either, but Logan knew he had come out to keep him company. Just like he had last night. Logan tried not to read too much into it. It was just who Leo was. If Finn was the master of creating a comfortable space, Leo was the master of joining you in it.
It was something Logan was kind of jealous of. He was always fucking up when people needed support- joking when he should be serious, and being serious when they needed distracting. But Leo always got it right. He always knew when someone was having a bad day, and he’d show up with exactly what you needed. A cup of tea, the channel changed to your favourite show. A closed door and a quiet warning to others to give you space. He always knew when to ask about it and when to let you sit with it, or when to sit with you in it. Everyone loved him for it. Logan loved him for it. Which was half of the reason he was out here hiding in the first place.
Not that it had worked, because apparently Leo also had a knack for finding people when nobody else even knew they were hiding. Logan had closed his door when he came out. Leo shouldn’t have known he wasn’t still sleeping. He let his head roll to look at Leo’s profile against the morning sun.
“How did you know I wasn’t in my room?”
Leo turned to look back at him with a kind smile and shrugged. “I know you find peace outside. I figured you would rather be here than there right now.”
Logan wasn’t sure what he had been expecting exactly, but it certainly wasn’t that. He just blinked back at Leo for a few moments, trying to formulate a response, and thanked the universe when the door slid open again, distracting them both. Finn stepped out with coffee and a tentative smile, handing steaming mugs to Leo and Logan before sitting down next to them and turning to look out over the early morning cityscape.
The three of them stayed there together in awkward silence, watching the city over the balcony railing. Logan was almost reminded of the night they had done the same thing in Ilvermorny, standing shoulder to shoulder at the railing and looking out over the moonlit ocean. But this was different. Because this time, for the first time since the day they had met, nothing about their silence was comfortable. And for the first time since the day they had met, nobody knew how to break it. And Logan knew it was his fault.
---
Finn
Leo and Logan left for their team meeting at 7am, and Finn hadn’t sat still since. His mind was racing, his pulse pounding in his own ears. Everything was wrong, and it was his fault, and he had no idea how to fix it.
He should have known it from the moment he stepped foot in the arena. If he was being honest with himself, he should have known it as soon as he agreed to come to the game. Half of the reason he had avoided it for all this time was because he knew that seeing the boys in their element like that would be difficult to resist.
But he hadn’t expected the way that game would crack him open. He had felt exposed from the instant he saw them on the ice, and if he had been smart, he would have left the party early. Faked a headache. Blamed a school assignment. But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to walk away from them. Instead, he had let his heart overrule his brain, and predictably, he had gotten hurt. And now he was regretting it with every fibre of his being, as the memory kept replaying in his mind.
Last night, he had left the dance floor to go and get a drink. And when he tried to go back out, he had caught sight of Logan, right where he had left him on the edge of the room. And that had stopped him in his tracks.
Because instead of the scheming look Finn had expected to see, Logan’s face had been a stormy expression of pure longing. It had taken Finn less than a second to follow his gaze to where Leo stood, love clear in his concerned eyes as they roamed over Logan’s face.
Finn’s stomach had plunged through the floor even as he looked away. He’d turned on the spot and strode back into the kitchen, pressing his back against the wall and facing resolutely away from the living room, trying to breathe deep and settle the spinning in his head.
He should have expected it. He had noticed it before- the flickering glances and fleeting expressions between them. He had brushed off every one of those instances as just his imagination, and then they had all come back to him in that moment. His brain had felt like it was fighting itself- half of it warm with the thought of them together, the other half cold with the thought of never being with them himself. He’d shut his eyes, trying to block it all out. And then Natalie had come to his rescue. He replayed their conversation in his mind.
“Finn? You ok?”
Her voice cut through the sounds of the party still going on around him.
He’d opened his eyes to see her looking up at him from beside the door, a concerned look on her face. He quickly schooled his face into what he hoped was a convincing smile.
“Ya, of course. Just had one drink too many I think. I need some more water.”
She looked unconvinced, but smiled back anyway and reached out a hand for his cup. “That’s where I was headed too. I’ll fill yours up.”
Finn had stayed put while she went over to the sink, feeling guilty for not helping, but not sure he could move at the moment. When Natalie brought back his cup, he’d been surprised to see her lean back next to him instead of heading back out to the party.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She cut to the point in true Natalie fashion, looking straight into his eyes with a genuine kindness that almost made him want to open up.
But he shook his head. “It’s nothing. I’m good.”
She nodded, still holding his eyes. “Ok. But promise me, if you ever need to talk, that you will? It doesn’t have to be to me, but I want you to know that I’m here. And that whatever you say to me, doesn’t go beyond me.”
Finn nodded back with a smile, small but genuine. “I promise.” He meant it.
She took a drink of her water then, looking satisfied. And Finn was beyond grateful for her when she started her next sentence:
“So… you can only listen to one album for the rest of your life. What do you choose?”
---
Finn checked the time on microwave. 8:30. It was still early, but it was going to have to do, because he couldn’t handle this on his own anymore. He was going to keep that promise to Natalie sooner than he had expected. He picked up his phone and dialed the familiar number, turning on speaker and dropping it back onto the table.
“Please pick up, please pick up” he muttered to himself as he circled the dining room.
“…hello?” His best friend’s sleep-filled voice filled the room. Finn snatched the phone back up.
Finn: June. Thank God. I’m sorry for waking you up. Are you awake? Can you talk? Do you want me to let you sleep?”
June: Finn? What the fuck. It’s so early. Why do you sound like that? What’s wrong?”
Finn heard her shuffle around in the blankets, heard her whisper to Heather to go back to sleep. Suddenly he realized he didn’t know what to say. How to explain it.
June: Finn? Dude, what’s up??
Finn: I… I just need your help. I don’t know how to do this anymore.
June: What? Do what anymore?
Finn: Be around them, June.
June: Be around who? Finn, you don’t make sense, can you like, start from the beginning? I just woke up.
Finn dropped the phone back to the table and brought his hands up to his hair. This was not working. He squeezed his head for a second, trying to organize his thoughts before he tried again.
Finn: It’s Leo and Logan. I thought I had it under control but then I watched them play hockey last night and then I was completely NOT in control, and then I watched them dance together and that… that hurt. And now everything is completely out of the box and I don’t know how to shove it back in.
June was quiet for a moment, before letting out a sympathetic sigh.
June: Finn…
Finn: I know, June. I know it’s stupid. Just tell me how to fix it. I’m going out of my mind.
June: That’s not what I was going to say.
Finn: … Oh. What were you going to say then?
June: I was going to tell you to not shove it back in the box.
Finn: Excuse me?? Are you still sleeping? That is not what I called you for. You’re supposed to be helping!
June: I am helping. Finn, you clearly care about each other. Everything you’ve told me about them… it’s obvious. So why are you boxing things up? Let love happen.
Finn stopped pacing and stared at the phone incredulously.
Finn: Let love HAPPEN?! June, they are LITERALLY professional athletes! They are gorgeous. Every time we go out they’ve got, like, hordes of girls following them around. You should see them June. They think they’re subtle but they’ll sneak behind them on the dance floor and crash into them just so they can talk to them. So they can touch them. And I can’t even blame them! And they’re always so fucking annoyingly beautiful. It’s like- it’s like a contest for these girls, and I can’t compete. I don’t want to compete. It’s impossible, June. I’m a grad student with a guitar. I stand less than zero chance here. Plus…
Finn cut himself off with a sharp intake of air. He was working himself up nearly to the point of tears, and he was not interested in crying right now. He let out a steadying breath and forced himself to sit down. June waited a second before prodding him gently.
June: Plus what, Finn?
Finn: Plus… I don’t know, June. Last night… you should have seen it. The way they were looking at each other, I just... I think, even if they ever were to be willing to get into a relationship with a guy, one they would have to hide… it would be with each other. Not with me.
June: Ok, well… actually wait, is it Logan or Leo that you’re into?
Finn dropped his face into his hands, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. This was another thing he wasn’t sure he knew how to deal with.
Finn: That’s… another thing. I don’t- I don’t even know. I. Don’t. Even. Know. Isn’t that insane? How is that even possible?? They’re completely different from one another and I… I know it doesn’t make any sense to be equally into both of them, and I have tried, God, believe me I have tried to turn it off. For both of them. But apparently I can’t, June. Not for either one. So, in all honesty, even if, let’s just go completely hypothetical here for a second, even IF I thought it was a possibility that either of them could be interested back, I couldn’t do it anyway. Because there would always be someone else too.
June: I see…
Finn: I just— UGH! This is insane. This is so stupid. This is the stupidest thing that I’ve ever done. June. Help.
He dropped his head to the table as he felt all the energy drain from him.
Finn: Help me turn it off. Please. I need to turn it off.
He was going to cry. Goddammit. He tilted his head back and stared unblinking at the ceiling, breathing deeply, willing it away. He could hear June on the other end of the line, just waiting, giving him time. After a moment, he continued.
Finn: Why am I like this? Make my feelings go away. I don’t want them.
June’s voice was soft coming through the phone.
June: Yes, you do, Finn. Your heart is what makes you, you. I would never- never- do anything to take it away. You’re the best person I know, and I know this is hard for you right now, but it’s going to work out. I promise. You’ve always got me to talk to when it gets too much, but please don’t ever think it’s better to change who you are.
Finn didn’t think she was right. He was tired of his heart being always on his sleeve. Tired of feeling so vulnerable. Tired of feeling like he was going to implode every time Leo and Logan were near. There was a line he hadn’t known was there that had been crossed last night, and he didn’t know if he could turn back now. If he could go back to pretending. He hated feeling like this, and he hated the tension it was causing between them. But he didn’t want to argue with June right now.
Finn: Ya. You’re right. I’m kind of tired now though, I think I’m going to go back to bed. Thanks for listening, June.
June: Ok… any time.
Finn could hear that she didn’t sound convinced, but she let out a resigned sigh.
June: Seriously, Finn. Call me any time, ok? I’ll pick up, any time of day or night. You know that. And I sent you my flight itinerary right? I’m coming to see you soon. I’ll be there to hug you in person.
Finn: Ya, I got the itinerary.
June: Good. And please don’t forget, I don’t care if these boys are professional bajillionaires, you’re the only Finn O’Hara in the world and they are the ones who are lucky to have you. I love you.
Finn: Love you too, June. I’ll talk to you soon.
Finn hit the End Call button on his phone and just sat still for a moment, unsure if he was feeling better or worse. His eyes locked on a mug on the other side of the table and he pulled it toward himself, hoping it was his coffee from earlier that morning. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be his tea from last night. He sighed. Leo was always making fun of him for leaving half-drank cups of tea all around the apartment and he supposed this was why. It was a very disappointing find.
He dropped his head into his hands and stared straight down at the dull surface of the old tea. The last of its ripples faded away as memories of the past few months started to roll through his mind like a film reel.
He thought of the day they met, up on that stage in Montreal. The trip they had taken to Ilvermorny to watch the stars. The team dinners he’d joined and the club nights they’d danced through. All the times he’d looked out from the stage to see them in crowd at his shows.
He thought back to that first show they had come to in Gryffindor, at the Burrow. The way he had felt when he saw Logan flirting with that girl. He hadn’t ever wanted to feel that way again. He had promised himself that night that he would turn whatever feelings he had for them off, keep it friends only.
And even though he wasn’t perfect, he really thought he had been doing a good job of it. But now, sitting here feeling that exact same feeling amplified a thousand times, he knew that he had never turned anything off. That that hope had stayed there, growing in the back of his mind whether he’d been willing to admit it or not. And last night had exposed it. And now that Finn knew, like really knew, that what he hoped for would never be, it was coming back around to crush him.
Finn tried to shake the thought away, tilting his head back to get some air. He was getting in his head, and he knew it. He just needed to catch his breath. He needed to get his thoughts out.
He needed his guitar.
He stood abruptly, grabbing the mug from in front of him and dumping it in the sink on his way out of the kitchen. For his entire life, music had been the way that Finn worked through his feelings. No matter what tangled mess was crowding his mind, pulling at the heart he could not for the life of him keep off of his sleeve, music calmed him. It brought him back to earth, centered him and let him start again. So now, just like he had done a million times before, Finn sat on the edge of his bed, closed his eyes, and let his emotions bleed out through the strings of his guitar.
---
Leo
That afternoon, Leo let himself into the apartment quietly. Finn hadn’t responded to his messages letting him know that Coach had let them go early, and Leo thought maybe he was napping after the late night and early morning they’d had.
He screwed up his face at the thought of their morning. Leo had hoped that sleep would help with whatever weird tension had appeared between them last night, but it seemed to have done the opposite. In the bright morning light, everything had seemed even more awkward, and they had spent the morning like strangers- unsure of how to act or what to say. It hadn’t stayed in the apartment either. Leo had shared an Uber with Logan to the arena, and Lo hadn’t looked at him a single time. He had also, impressively, managed to avoid him for nearly the entire day despite being in pretty close quarters in the locker room. But Leo had finally cornered him for a few seconds on their way out the door. Just long enough to make sure he was still planning to come to Finn’s show tonight. He was anxious for them to work through whatever this mess was. And Logan had, in the end, agreed to come, so Leo hoped that meant he wanted to as well.
For now, though, Leo just wanted to make some tea and retreat to his bed to sort through his own thoughts. Last night had messed with his head too. Knowing Finn had been at the game, watching, and then the excitement of the win. He’d been on an adrenaline high, and then watching Finn and Logan doing… whatever that had been in the kitchen. That had hurt. He’d tried to act normal, but he wasn’t sure he’d done a very good job.
He was pretty sure that what he had seen between the two of them was what was up with Logan as well, but he wasn’t sure about Finn. He’d been weird even before that, from the time they’d met up after the game.
He dropped his keys on the table beside the door, and was just about to head to the kitchen for his tea when he heard the sounds of Finn’s guitar coming from down the hall, quietly playing a song he didn’t recognize. His interest piqued immediately—Finn was always singing quietly around the house, but he NEVER played guitar when Leo was home, unless it was to dick around to karaoke songs in the living room. He always rehearsed for shows in the practise rooms on campus, and when he worked on his own stuff at home it was always on the keyboard, with headphones plugged in to stay quiet. He always insisted it was not pleasant to listen to the songwriting process, but Leo was pretty sure he would be happy to listen to Finn play anything for hours if he did it on his guitar. He was good on the keyboard, but the way he played guitar… it was like it was a part of him. Leo could never look away when he picked it up on stage.
On second thought, maybe it was for the best that Finn did refrain from playing around him.
He made his way down to where Finn’s bedroom door was open and leaned quietly against the doorframe. Finn didn’t seem to notice him, and Leo took advantage of the rare moment, being able to study him unseen.
Finn was sitting on the edge of his bed, eyes closed and guitar propped on his knees. His fingers danced along the strings as sunlight filtered into the room, casting shadows below long eyelashes and playing across the freckles Leo loved, high on Finn’s cheekbones. There was never a time when Leo didn’t want to reach out and touch those freckles, let his fingertips trail across Finn’s skin- soft and gentle, connecting the dots. It was a daydream he kept close to his chest, never letting anyone else see.
Leo let himself be lost in that moment, watching, until the boy in front of him started to sing and his admiration turned to awe.
Leo was used to the Finn he saw playing music on stage, at parties, even messing around in their living room. That Finn was always larger than life, full of mischief and chaos, working hard to make sure everyone was having a good time. Leo had assumed that’s what he was always like as a musician.
But here, alone in his room without an audience to entertain, Finn was playing for himself. And Leo realized he’d been wrong. Maybe that was who Finn was as performer, but this- this was Finn as a musician. As an artist. Open, unguarded, his heart in every note. It was utterly captivating. It felt like he was intruding on something private.
The realization that he was intruding on something private, and had been for several minutes longer than he should have been, finally snapped Leo out of it. He cleared his throat just as Finn started to sing a little louder.
“What must it be like to grow up that beautif—” Finn turned his head at the sound and caught sight of Leo in the doorway. He slammed his palm down on the strings as his voice cut out, ending all of the sound in the room at once. He jumped up, eyes going wide as he stood, his body tense. Leo lifted his hands in a show of peace, and watched Finn let out a relieved huff, relaxing as he realized who was there.
“Jesus, Leo. Dude. Once again: learn to make noise when you enter a space. You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.” Finn’s tone was joking, but Leo noticed his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Leo suddenly realized he was nervous, a feeling he wasn’t used to around Finn. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I tried to message you, Coach let us go early, I know you weren’t expecting me back yet…”
“It’s ok.” Finn stepped in when Leo trailed off. “I didn’t have my phone. And you never have to be sorry about coming home, ok? Just… try not to scare me when you do?”
Leo huffed out a small laugh at that, relieved that Finn didn’t appear to be upset with him. “I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t recognize the song you were playing. I wanted to come and see what it was. Are you practising for tonight?”
He watched the long lines of Finn’s throat as he swallowed before answering- a nervous tick of his that Leo had picked up on.
“Oh. Um, no, it’s not for tonight. It’s a… it’s a new one.”
“You wrote it?”
“Ya. I did.”
Leo considered Finn for a second before asking, “… Can I listen?”
Finn hesitated, starting to look uncomfortable as he shifted the guitar across his chest.
Leo immediately regretted the request, worried he had crossed a boundary. He had heard Finn play original music at shows, but this was his personal space, and he had just waltzed in and invaded it. He tried to backtrack. “Oh my god, I’m sorry Finn, I shouldn’t have asked that. I didn’t mean to make you—”
Finn cut him off. “No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s ok.” He looked up at Leo, a new spark in his expression. “I want to play it for you.”
---
Finn
This was his opportunity. He could play the song and either Leo would recognize it was about them or he wouldn’t. He would be upset by it or he wouldn’t. All he knew for certain was that he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. He wasn’t deluding himself, he knew it wouldn’t work out. He had realized that last night. Reaffirmed it this morning. And he was aware that it didn’t make any sense, the feelings he had for the two of them, but he was so tired of bottling it up. All he could do was share the best way he knew how and hope they could work through it. They were worth that.
Before he had a chance to talk himself out of it, he cleared his throat and brushed his fingers across the strings. As soon as he played the first notes, the song took over. It always felt like magic, the way the sounds of the guitar wrapped around him, calmed him, pulled him together. He looked down, away from Leo as he started to sing.
“Gleaming, twinkling, eyes like sinking ships on waters, so inviting I almost jump in”
He kept his gaze down as he moved through lyrics he had finished this morning. The words he had pulled out of himself to try and make sense of it all. To tell the story of the past few months with these two incredible, indescribable boys. This first verse was vague enough that if he didn’t already know, Leo wouldn’t guess it was about him.
But the one that followed… Finn forced himself to look up, to connect with that familiar blue-eyed gaze and watch his reaction. There was no way Leo wouldn’t realize what he was singing about now. Memories swirled behind Finn’s eyes as he played.
“What must it be like to grow up that beautiful
With your hair falling into place like dominos”
Dark curls falling over emerald eyes; blonde over cerulean. Finn wanting to reach out and touch so badly that his hands shook.
“I see me padding across, your wooden floors,
With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door”
Every time Finn had walked across Leo’s room to take back the shirt that Leo was constantly stealing and leaving hanging on his closet door, where he knew Finn would be able to find it if he ever came looking. He watched as Leo’s small smile turned into a look of recognition.
“At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit”
The first time Finn had caught on to Logan’s game, at dinner with Talker. The countless times since that he and Leo had called him out for stirring the pot. The grumpy look on Logan’s face when he realized he was caught.
“And the coastal town we wandered around,
Had never seen a love as pure as it”
The day they drove out to Ilvermorny and spent one of the best days of Finn’s life playing tourist and looking at the stars. The burning heat he had felt as Logan flirted with him from the side of the balcony railing. The pull in his heart when he realized how much Leo missed the open skies. He knew now what those feelings meant.
“And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea,
‘Cause you know it could never be.”
This morning, at the table, reliving all of these moments as the hope he had been harbouring slowly slipped away.
Leo’s face was unreadable now, and Finn closed his eyes to the sight as he kept singing.
“Cause I don't like a gold rush, gold rush
I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush
I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch
Everybody wants you”
Girls lining up, pushing for their chance to make a move on them. The heat crawling up the back of his neck as he fought to not let it get under his skin. He’d told June this morning that he couldn’t compete. That he didn’t want to have to compete.
“Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you
Walk past, quick brush
I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush”
Watching them touch the boys, running fingers down their arms, laying palms on their chests as they danced by. Pretending that it would turn into something more. His world spinning as he was reminded time and time again that he could never do the same.
“I don't like that falling feels like flying till the bone crush
Everybody wants you
And I don't like a gold rush”
The boys made him better. Everything was so easy when they were together. So good. And that made it so much worse to see the longing in Logan’s eyes when he looked at Leo, to see the love in Leo’s when he smiled at Logan. To watch everybody else want these two boys who so clearly wanted each other.
He slid into the final verse, trying to keep it together as he repeated the first few lines. And then,
“My mind turns your lives into folklore
I can’t dare to dream about you anymore”
There was something there between Leo and Logan. Finn knew he wasn’t imagining it. The vision of their future together had been running through his mind on a loop since last night, and it was perfect. They were perfect, together. He knew that the only thing he could do now was rewrite the ending of this story. Write himself out of it. So, lyrically at least, he had.
“I can’t dare to dream about you anymore.
At dinner parties I won’t call you out on your contrarian shit,
And the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure as it,
Cause it fades into the gray of my day old tea,
Cause it will never be.”
Finn’s voice cracked on the word never, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to sing the final lines. He forced his hands to finish playing anyway, to give him time to take a few steadying breaths so he could at least look at Leo.
When he’d dragged it out as long as he could, Finn let the final note fade out across the room and sat perfectly still for a few moments. Hoping it would be ok.
When Leo didn’t speak into the quiet, his heart sank. He lifted his head, intending to look at Leo, but his eyes stayed glued to the frets under his fingers. The burst of confidence he had felt when he started the song was a distant memory now.
He tried to laugh, but it sounded fake even to himself. His knees wouldn’t stop bouncing. He needed to break this silence.
“So… ya. Um. I’m sorry. That wasn’t a song that I ever intended for anyone to hear, and…” he stopped as his voice caught in his throat again.
It was quiet for another moment before Leo’s voice, kind and gentle, spoke up.
“I think they should.”
Finn’s heart was pounding in his throat as he heard Leo take a step toward him.
Leo spoke again, softer this time. Cautious. “I think Logan should.”
Finn’s knees finally stopped moving. His entire body froze in place. On a hypothetical level, he had known this was what was going to happen when he decided to play this stupid song. But he always had been better at jumping than at dealing with the fall, and experiencing it was turning out to be much worse than imagining it. It would seem he had failed to factor in how much panic would be involved. What had possessed him to think it was a good idea??
He was suddenly desperate to take it all back.
“Logan?” He croaked out. “No, Logan doesn’t—”
“Finn.” Leo cut him off. He was closer now, standing beside him. “You wrote that song about him. About me. About us.”” Leo’s voice was steady. It wasn’t a question.
Well, fuck. There was no taking it back now. Dealing with the fall it was. He took a deep breath, tried to steel himself for whatever was about to happen, and finally looked up into Leo’s eyes.
His face was still giving nothing away. Which was horrifically unfair because Finn knew that every single thing he was feeling was written across his own. Goddamn goalie face.
Finn whispered then, his voice full of apology. “Leo…”
Leo’s mask finally disappeared.
“Don’t apologize, Finn. Not now. Please.” His expression was suddenly open, vulnerable. Finn wasn’t sure what to do then, so he just pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and sat still, giving Leo the space to make the next move. He took it.
Leo’s eyes flickered between Finn’s, unguarded, and searching- always searching.
He started slowly. “I thought it was just me. I thought I was going crazy—these feelings, I didn’t know what to do with them. I just wanted to pretend it wasn’t there.” He shook his head a little, his gaze shifting away from Finn as he continued.
“I promised myself when I came to Gryffindor that I wouldn’t get attached to anyone. Not anyone on my team or anywhere else. I just wanted to keep my head down and focus on my career. But then…” he paused for a moment, and Finn could see him debating how to proceed. All of a sudden he turned those ocean blue eyes back on Finn, and the look in them made Finn forget how to breathe.
“But then there was Logan… and then there was you, and I just… I don’t know.”
Finn’s heart skipped several beats as he blinked up at Leo. He had long suspected Leo’s feelings for Logan, had almost expected that confession, but…
“Wait. Me?” His voice was laced with confusion.
Leo nodded back.
“Ya. You.” he breathed out. He looked away then, his cheeks flushed and confidence faltering as he continued.
“But I thought… you and Logan. I see how you watch each other. I saw the way he looked at you last night. Oh my God, Finn, the way he was looking at you last night. I knew he had feelings for you and I never thought… I thought I would just have to back away and watch the two of you.”
What? Finn’s head was reeling.
“Leo… Logan. I’ve been watching how he looks at you, Leo. That’s what the whole song…” he stopped, not sure he was making sense. But Leo was nodding.
“I know that now. Now that I’ve heard you sing that, I know.” He smiled reassuringly at Finn, then leaned against the windowsill as his expression turned hesitant. Finn watched some kind of internal debate play out over his features before Leo connected their gaze once more.
“Finn, in your song, you said you don’t dare to dream about us anymore. That it could never be.”
Finn nodded slowly. He had written that this morning. When he thought he needed to back away. Now though… something had sparked inside him as he listened to Leo speak.
“And maybe... maybe you’re right. Maybe it never can be, the way you were thinking about it before. The way I was thinking about it before. It’s impossible, to feel this way about two people.”
Finn felt the spark go out. He was familiar with this moment. Too familiar. He pushed the flickering reminders of his first years in Gryffindor back out of his mind. He didn’t need them to know he was about to be let down gently.
But Leo’s voice was shaky, nervous as he continued. “But maybe—maybe if I stopped dreaming about you separately. If WE start dreaming about us together, all three of us. Maybe… maybe then it could be.”
That… was not what he had expected.
Finn felt something connect inside of him as he considered Leo’s words. It felt right. He looked up at the boy beside him, usually so calm and collected, now looking just as freaked out and vulnerable as he felt.
Finn felt a surge of protectiveness over him. Leo had put himself on the line here, for Finn. So that Finn wouldn’t be out there alone. He knew how big of a risk that was for Leo, with the job he had and the scrutiny it came with. If Leo was willing to take that risk, Finn knew he would do whatever it took to make it worth it.
“Yes.” His voice cracked. He tried again. “Yes.”
Leo looked at him carefully, searching, Finn knew, for confirmation that he meant what he was saying. “Are you sure?”
Finn’s mind was still reeling, but the one thing he felt sure of right now, was this. “I’m sure.”
Leo quirked up one side of his mouth then, his smile warming up the room like the sun peaking out from the clouds. “Ok.”
“Ok.” Finn repeated, starting to smile back. “So, what do we do next?”
Leo’s expression turned serious again. “I think next, we need to talk to Logan. When he gets here. But right now,” he took a step toward Finn, “do you think you could put down your guitar?”
Finn looked down at the instrument he now realized he was clutching to himself like a lifeline. He pulled it over his head and slowly set it down on the bed behind him. Leo held out a hand, his eyes cautious as he watched Finn grab his wrist and stand up.
The two boys were face to face then, and Finn slowly let his fingers slide to twine between the taller boy’s. He had touched Leo hundreds of times before, been closer to him even on the first day they met. But this- the feeling of Leo’s calloused palm against his own, of his thumb tracing gentle circles across his knuckles- was something completely new.
He watched as Leo looked down at their connected hands and used the grip to pull Finn closer, until Finn could feel the heat from his body coming through his shirt. Finn wondered vaguely if Leo could feel the way his own heart was beating through his skin. His eyes traveled up to lock onto Leo’s. He would never get over Leo’s eyes. They were so blue, like the ocean in the sunlight. So inviting.
Those eyes flickered back and forth across Finn’s face, and Finn let Leo be the one to voice what he was sure they were both thinking.
“Finn.” His voice was a whisper.
“Ya?” Finn replied just as softly.
“Will you kiss me?”
Finn’s skin erupted in goosebumps as he felt Leo’s other hand slide gently across the back of his neck. He didn’t know if he even had a heartbeat anymore.
He brought his own hand up, tracing his fingertips delicately under Leo’s jaw and running a thumb along his cheekbone, before tangling his fingers into his hair and pulling him the rest of the way forward.
“Yes.” He was barely able to breathe the word out before their lips met in an impossible kiss.
Finn’s whole body was electrified. He leaned in closer and felt Leo do the same, tilting their heads in unison. Finn felt himself slipping away, his brain drowning out everything but the feel of Leo under his fingertips, against his lips, nothing but Leo’s name running through his mind.
Until another name joined it. Logan. Finn took the moment to slowly pull back from Leo, who was panting slightly as he leaned his forehead against Finn’s, his hands coming up to trace lightly along Finn’s cheekbones. Finn opened his eyes to look at the beautiful man in front of him and said, simply, “Logan.”
Leo nodded, not letting go of Finn. “He’ll be here in a few hours. We’ll talk to him?”
Finn just nodded his agreement, closing his eyes again and moving to rest his forehead against Leo’s shoulder.
“I should let go of you now,” he murmured, “or I’ll never be able to again.”
Leo chuckled, the sound warm where their bodies were touching. “That doesn’t sound half bad to me.” He ran a hand through Finn’s hair and kissed the top of his head. Finn melted into it. “But you’re right,” he hummed against the red curls, “we need to talk to Logan.”
Reluctantly, they backed apart from one another, keeping their hands laced together.
Finn watched Leo’s chest rise and fall evenly, always so composed. Finn’s heart was still racing through his bones.
“How are you so calm right now?”
Leo laughed at that. “It just looks that way. Believe me, my mind is freaking out right now. I was just kissing one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever known.”
Finn cocked his head, lifting an eyebrow. “One of them?” He teased.
Leo just smiled back softly, meeting Finn’s gaze with affection.
“Yeah”
Finn couldn’t help himself; he leaned into Leo again, wrapping his arm around his waist and resting his head where he could feel the steady rhythm of his heart.
“Hmmm” he hummed, listening. “Logan.”
Leo nodded and rested his chin on top of Finn’s head. “Logan.”
“Let’s make some dinner?” Finn asked after a few seconds.
Leo actually snorted at that, finally breaking the spell that had fallen over the room.
Finn grinned back in response. “Ok fine. Will you make some dinner, and I can finally watch you without pretending that’s not what I’m doing?”
Leo smiled softly, looking surprised at that admission.
“I didn’t know you liked watching me cook.”
It was Finn’s turn to snort. “Leo, I like watching you do everything. But yes, I love watching you cook. You care about it so much. I’m surprised you’ve never caught on to that.”
Leo laughed as he pulled Finn toward the door. “After today, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that there are a lot of things I’ve been oblivious about. Let’s go. I’ll make you something you like.”
#sweater weather lumosinlove#lumosinlove#Coast To Coast#o'knutzy#finn o'hara#leo knut#logan tremblay
91 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Naya, my Snixxx, my Bee. I legitimately can not imagine this world without you.
7 years ago today, she and I were together in London when we found out about Cory. We were so far away, but I was so thankful that we had each other. A week ago today we were talking about running away to Hawaii. This doesn’t make sense. And I know it probably never will.
She was so independent and strong and the idea of her not being here is something I cannot comprehend. She was the single most quick-witted person I’ve ever met, with a steel-trap memory that could recall the most forgettable conversations from a decade ago verbatim. The amount of times she would memorize all of those crazy monologues on Glee the morning of and would never ever mess up during the scene… I mean, she was clearly more talented than the rest of us. She was the most talented person I’ve ever known. There is nothing she couldn’t do and I’m furious we won’t get to see more.
I’m thankful for all the ways in which she made me a better person. She taught me how to advocate for myself and to speak up for the things and people that were important to me, always. I’m thankful for the times I grew an ab muscle from laughing so hard at something she said. I’m thankful she became like family. I’m thankful that my dad happened to have met her weeks before I did and when I got Glee, he told me to “look out for a girl named Naya because she seemed nice.” Well dad, she was nice and she became one of my favorite people ever.
If you were fortunate enough to have known her, you’ll know that her most natural talent of all was being a mother. The way that she loved her boy, it was truly Naya at her most peaceful. I’m thankful that Naya got that beautiful little boy back on that boat. I’m thankful he will have a strong family around him to protect him and tell him about his incredible mom.
I just hope more than anything that her family is given the space and time to come to terms with this. For having such tiny body, Naya had such a gigantic presence, a void that will now be felt by all of us - those of us who knew her personally and the millions of you who loved her through your TVs. I love you, Bee.
My favorite duet partner. I love you. I miss you. I don’t have words right now, just lots of feelings. Rest In Peace Angel, and know that your family will never have to worry about anything.
We started out as the closest friends and then like all new things, we went through a bit of a rocky phase. However, we stuck by each other’s side and created the most beautiful friendship built out of love and understanding. The last I had the chance to see you in person, I had left oranges outside our home for you to take. I wanted to say hi through the window but my phone didn’t ring when you called (which it never does, f*cking T-Mobile), so instead you and Josey left two succulents on our doorstep as a thank you. I planted those succulents and I look at them everyday and think of you. I still listen to your EP on repeat because from the moment I heard it, it struck me and I always wished the world knew more of your voice. You sent me over 5 dozen SnapChat videos when you and Josey woke up in the morning and I kick myself that I didn’t save one of them. You always shared recipes and I admired your love for food. We vowed to spend every Easter together, even though Covid stole this last one from us. You are and always will be the strongest and most resilient human being I know, and I vowed to carry that with me as I continue to live my life.
You constantly taught me lessons about grief, about beauty and poise, about being strong, resilient and about not giving a fuck (but still somehow respectful). Yet, the utmost important lesson I learned most of all from you was being a consistent and loving friend. You were the first to check in, the first to ask questions, the first to listen..you cherished our friendship and I never took that for granted.
We never took photos together because we mutually hated taking pictures...our relationship meant more than proof. I have countless pictures of our babies playing, because we shared that kind of pride and joy. So I’m showing the world a photo of our little goof balls for you, because I know that meant more than anything and they remind me of you and I. I speak to you everyday because I know you’re still with me and even though I’m feeling greedy that we don’t get more time together, I cherish every moment we had and hold it close to my heart.
There are no words and yet so many things I want to say, I don't believe I'll ever be able to articulate exactly what I feel but... Naya, you were a ⚡️ force and everyone who got to be around you knew it and felt the light and joy you exuded when you walked into a room. You shined on stage and screen and radiated with love behind closed doors.
I was lucky enough to share so many laughs, martinis and secrets with you. I can not believe I took for granted that you'd always be here. Our friendship went in waves as life happens and we grow, so I will not look back and regret but know I love you and promise to help the legacy of your talent, humor, light and loyalty live on.
You are so loved. You deserved the world and we will make sure Josey and your family feel that everyday. I miss you already.
She was bold. She was outrageous. She was a LOT of fun.
Naya made me laugh like no one else on that set. I always said it while we were working together and I’ve maintained it ever since. Her playful, wicked sense of humor never ceased to bring a smile to my face.
She played by her own rules and was in a class of her own. She had a brashness about her that I couldn’t help but be enchanted by. I also always loved her voice, and savored every chance I got to hear her sing. I think she had more talent than we would have ever been able to see.
I was constantly moved by the degree to which she took care of her family, and how she looked out for her friends. She showed up for me on numerous occasions where she didn’t have to, and I was always so grateful for her friendship then, as I certainly am now.
And even as I sit here, struggling to comprehend, gutted beyond description- the very thought of her cracks me up and still brings a smile to my face. That was Naya’s gift. And it's a gift that will never go away.
Rest in peace you wild, hilarious, beautiful angel.
How can you convey all your love and respect for someone in one post? How can you summarize a decade of friendship and laughter with words alone? If you were friends with Naya Rivera, you simply can’t. Her brilliance and humor were unmatched. Her beauty and talent were otherworldly. She spoke truth to power with poise and fearlessness. She could turn a bad day into a great day with a single remark. She inspired and uplifted people without even trying. Being close to her was both a badge of honor and a suit of armor. Naya was truly one of a kind, and she always will be.
💔
Sending all my love to her wonderful family and her beautiful son.
Dear Naya,
I’m failing miserably to process this news. I always imagined old future senior moments where we would hear your infectious laughter down the hall knowing that our funny bone was in for a treat. To many people, myself included, you were the life of the party. Not only able to rock when fun was to be had after a long day but that shining friend that was always willing to listen, offer sympathy, perspective and at times, give much needed levity to any situation.
You were a beast on the show. I admired you as I watched you nail multi page monologues that you learned moments before and pour your heart into every performance with an energy that had that snicks special written all over it. Our deep conversations about life inbetween scenes are some of my favorite moments with you. Getting to hear about your hopes and dreams for the future and with Josey’s arrival, ‘Your greatest success’ I was so happy to see your dream turn into reality.
You deserved more. I’m so sorry but you deserved more. You gave life your all and I hope all the good that you have given to the world will be returned in abundance when you reunite with our brother in the heavenly skies. I’m so grateful for our memories. We will make sure to keep your legacy and spirit alive so Josey will grow up to know the incredible woman you were. Love you, Naya. You are already missed. Eternally.
-HSJ
Naya and I fell into stride with such ease, she was my first friend and ally on our show. In the pilot, our characters came and went with such swiftness. Our enthusiasm brimmed with all of the unknown. We tried to grasp what the other cast members must be feeling as we were working in such separate manners. We dared to dream. What if this show worked? Wouldn’t that be something? Something was brimming, it was palpable. And thank god it worked. Naya’s magnetic talent was going to be unleashed, we just didn’t know it yet.
I’ve been revisiting Naya’s performances on our show and it has brought me great joy. To work with her was a gift. There was a great deal to absorb - her work ethic, her fearlessness, her talent - supreme. Naya had a laugh that would envelop you and hold you captive. She was mesmerizing. That twinkle in her eye, her luminous smile. Naya lead with truth, humor, wit. I loved her for all of these reasons.
I loved her sense of curiosity and wanderlust. I was lucky enough to be her travel partner for some of my most favorite adventures. As I write this, I’m grinning with swelling memories of a spontenaous 36 hour excursion - one might even say diversion - to Paris. With Naya, everything was possible and would often simply unfold before us, almost magically.
On this particular jaunt, within ten minutes of checking into our hotel, we found ourselves strolling the halls of L'École des Beaux-Arts, sipping wine from paper cups with students showcasing their latest work. It was fantastic. We were united in our commitment to discovery. And there was always a list of cleverly curated ideas in Naya’s back pocket, should we need it.
I cannot make sense of this tremendous loss. I will hold onto her and these memories for the rest of time, alongside our Glee family. Please hold space for her, her family, her beautiful boy.
In absolute, loving memory.
Naya
The world is at such a loss and I am truly heartbroken.
I still remember the day I met you. You Walked straight up to me, grabbed me by the face and drug me around until I met every single person on set, introducing me as “new booty”. You were one of the first people who made me feel like family when others saw me as an outsider. I didn’t know then that you would become my family and that’s just who you were to everyone.. A Mother, Sister, Daughter and most of all a friend. Your massive heart and bright spark is what carried our entire show, when at times we all felt like giving up.
You always showed up for me when I needed some wisdom or was down and just needed someone to talk to. You took care of everyone around you in a way that was so warm and comforting and you sure knew how to throw a hell of a party!
I always admired your bravery and passion to fight for what’s right even when it seemed like you were up against the world. Your spirit is contagious and you continue to make everyone you have touched a better and stronger person by knowing you.
My favorite part of glee was getting to watch you perform and shine up close every day. You really were the pulse of that show. Anyone who was blessed enough to see and experience your raw talent knows it to be true. You’re one of the smartest and most gifted people I have ever met.
There is no one like you and there never will be.
You have changed peoples lives all around the world and you continue to change mine forever. I will never forget your love and kindness. Thank you for sharing your spirit Angel.
I will miss you always. I Love you Naya
For the last 7 years the 13th of July has shattered our hearts beyond repair. There aren’t enough words to describe the pain we are feeling, we are truly heartbroken at the loss of @nayarivera .
Naya, Cory loved you so so much. He cherished your friendship more than you will ever know. From the laughs you shared, to the strength you gave him when he needed it the most. Cory truly adored you. He was in awe of your incredible talent, the way you gave everything you had to each performance; the slap in the auditorium was one of his favourite stories to share. You once said Cory was like a member of your family; you will always be a part of ours. We’ll carry you in our hearts forever. We miss you. Friends reunited for eternity.
We send all our love and strength to your beautiful boy, your family, friends and fans 💔🐻💔
#naya rivera#Kevin mchale#heather morris#jenna ushkowitz#amber riley#Chris colfer#chord overstreet#Cory Monteith#Dianna agron#Harry Shum jr#darren criss#glee#glee cast#Artie abrams#Brittany pierce#tina cohen chang#mercedes jones#kurt hummel#sam evans#finn hudson#Quinn fabray#Blaine anderson#mike chang#rip naya rivera#the picture with Kevin actually breaks me#glee tributes#I hate that the Darren photo is an edit but there are not a ton of options#also hate that chord's photo is different but also not a lot of options there
493 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sleep
Kanene’s note: Heya! It’s me, Mario!!! dfghjkrgthjk jk jk. Okay, that idea hit me in the middle of the night and I think it’s very cute!! So have a bit of tickles and fluff and teases today!
Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:
* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to the anime/manga Boku no Hero.
* This is a SFW tickle fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b
* This is Switch!Yamada with Switch!Aizawa. They’re in a romantic relationship. Around 2.200 words.
* The Ler!Aizawa part was inspired by these tickle-headcanons! They’re absolutely amazing!!!!
* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/
* Consume some of your comfort content! Fanfic, series, movies... anything that makes u happy! Drink water, sleep, eat and love! Today is another day and I’m proud that we’re both still here.
[~*~]
Yamada woke up to complete darkness.
Which wasn't such a rare occurrence. With both his and his husband’s tendencies of having migraines their room was often bathed in a total lack of light, and that, together with the fact of Aizawa being an incorrigible cuddle bug who soaked his ‘daily dose of morning snuggles’ – as Hizashi loved to call them and loved even more the other’s blushed face and deadly glare directed at him every time he dared to say such thing - was enough for him to find no surprise at all in feeling the pressure of Aizawa basically using him as his own personal bed.
“Morning, babe.” He maneuvered himself to gently kick Shouta’s legs off him, which resulted in the immediate locking of arms on the blonde’s waist, Shouta mumbling whatevers as he nuzzles his chest, making Yamada giggles quietly. He began to comb Aizawa’s hair with his fingers, both out of adoration with how much adorable his husband could be and to take it from his own face so he would be able to see what time it was.
Eight in the morning. Yep. Time to start getting ready for their meeting with Nedzu and his usual Saturday patrol. He would also need some time in between those to call the Radio’s station and see if everything was ok with today’s interviewed, get a couple more of songs to play tonight and make sure to come back at two in the afternoon so he and Eri could have some quality time as Shouta slept a bit to not pass out on his night patrol.
OK. That sounds like a plan! Time to begin the day with a proper breakfast since both were equally horrible in keeping a healthy routine and he would probably forget to eat lunch since Eri wouldn’t be there with him serving as an adorable, lovely reminder that humans have basic needs in order to be alive.
He tried to move, receiving an annoyed growl as an answer, the arms squeezing a bit firmer. Hizashi snorted.
“Sho, I need to make breakfast and wake up Eri, okay?” He kissed the top of his head and traced an imaginary flower on his cheek, voice soft, feeling the other melt on him, humming happily. “You can sleep a few minutes more.”
“No. Warm.”
“I will bring you our cats, you can show your undying love to them, then.” Hizashi tried to pry the other’s grip from him, unsuccessfully. “Come on, let me go. We have a meeting to attend with Nedzu today, remember?”
“Fuck ‘im.”
Hizashi controlled himself to not bark a laughter, fingers itching to get his phone and amplify his blackmail treasures. “Shh, he will hear you.”
“’don’t wanna cats,” Aizawa’s tune was slurred and he deposited a tired kiss on his bare shoulder, “I wan’ you.”
And damn if that didn’t turn his weak heart in a happy gooey puddle, his smile going from one ear to another and his resolve to be a responsible adult and get out of the bed was almost burned to total inexistence.
Key word: Almost.
Especially when the raven haired adult sighs contently, his breath lightly tickling his neck and leading to a quite evil idea to gain form and color on his mind. His smile got wider, eviller.
“Okay, babe.” Yamada’s hands rested on the other’s sides, going up, fingers smoothly running across his ribs, his nails barely grazing the skin as they went slowly back and forth, back and forth. A soft ‘tsk’ flew on the air as the smaller began to squirm. “Let’s have some fun then, shall we?”
His index fingers stopped their dance to focus on his lowest rib, circling that sweet spot in the middle of it while the other fingers concentrated in clawing the horribly sensitive skin around it, staying firm on their task even when Aizawa jumped with the ticklish jolts that hit him.
“H-hi-hizasshhhi.” His tone was low, warning. His brain still trying to wake up enough while his body wobbly fought to escape from the sensations, his struggles increasing specifically when his husband adjusted him so he would be laying on his back on the top of him, arms criss crossed on his chest.
“Oh, is someone finally waking up? ~” Aizawa scrunched, Yamada’s breath hitting his ears. However, his attempts proved themselves futile as the other took as his duty to nibble, huff and puff on the ticklish spot, going from one ear to another with ease, finally breaking his husband’s barriers and being rewarded by a low, fast giggly fit. “I wonder what I did to deserve that my incredible, handsome decided to bless my morning with his sunny presence today!”
“Hizashi, I am going to k-ILL” His snickers suddenly raised an octave as the blonde gave a quick squeeze on his hips that made his waist jerk instinctively.
“Now, now, is that way to greet the love of your life?” Hizashi whined. “Stop laughing, Sho! I’m trying to hold a serious conversation here but something tells me you’re distracted.” Yamada kept lazily poking him, slow enough to leave him breathing properly, but quick enough to tear snorts and chuckles from his firmly pressed lips.
“D-d-don’t.” His face was in flames as a barely muffled squeak fell from his mouth as Hizashi gave a quick nip right behind his left ear, letting out an adoring ‘Awww. Isn’t he adorableee?~’ in the process.
“I am- I am going to get you back for that! You know I will!”
“So grumpy, so cutee. ~”
He tried to turn in order to give his beloved a deadly glare which usually made his students and villains fear for their lives, his eyes only barely catching his husband’s bright smile before his breath was stole when his partner resolved to attack, unmerciful squeezes mixed with a couple of thumbs digging energetically on his hips, kneading, tickling.
His laughter filled the room.
“HIZASHI!!” He kicked and trashed, but in vain.
“What is it, babe?” The other started to switch between his tickle spots, knowing he couldn’t take it too long or they would be late. “Wow! I didn’t know you could be so alive in the mornings, love!! Have you been hiding that from your awesome husband all along?” Nails scratching on his armpits, fingers prodding his ribs, wriggling on his waistline, drumming on his belly. “All that beautiful laughter? All that wonderful snorts? And giggles? And squeals? Now, I am wounded, Sho! I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other!”
When nothing except laughter and squirming answered him, he decided to stop, deciding the few minutes of fun were already enough adrenaline to maintain Shouta conscious enough until he prepared his coffee. He quickly laid the other on the mattress, resting some kisses on his face as his husband got his breath back.
“You-” He gasped, hiding his smile behind his hand. “You better run.”
In a second Hizashi was out of their bed, “OkayloveyousomuchbabeI’mgoingtowakeEriupdon’tkillmeIloveyousosomuchbye.”
And run he did.
[~*~]
Shouta dumped his capture weapon on the couch, immediately seeing three blurs of fur dashing from his peripheral vision directly to the object, meowing and getting tangled as they fiercely ‘fought’ with it. Shouta knew that this being his weapon and therefore an important part of his work, he shouldn’t let his cats play with it. However, as he petted two fluffy heads that popped from the cloth and the exhaustion started to totally take over his body and actions, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had some spare scarves somewhere, he was sure.
“Dumb cats.” He fondly remarked, scratching their newest kitten under her chin before adventuring to his room, stopping only to check on Eri and relax as he found her calmly sleeping on her bed. Good.
His eyes narrowed as he noticed the light coming from under his bedroom, sighing and putting his eyedrops, already aware of the other fight he would have to face.
“Hizashi,” it’s his greeting. The blonde hums, glare still clued on the screen in front of him, head resting on one of his hands, “it’s three in the morning and we have classes tomorrow. Turn that thing off.”
“Hypocrisy, hypocrisy.” Yamada sings, hand rocking in the beat of his imaginary melody, the tiredness dripping from his words. Yet he took off his headphones, turning on his direction with alert eyes. “Are you hurt?”
“Nah, slow night.”
“Good.” Hizashi smiled. A small, true smile that spread a warm feeling across his chest and only made his resolute to protect his husband from every bad thing in the world grew stronger, even if the ‘bad thing’ which threatened him right now was his horrible sleep schedule. “We saved some dango for you. It’s on the fridge.”
Aizawa nodded, watching him turn back to his computer. “I’m going to grade 1-A tests when I am back.” And that perked the other’s attention, since both had the habit of grading tests together in order to get some quality time on their incredibly busy lives.
That is why the taller was sitting on the bed with a pack of papers in his hands when Shouta came back, falling on the mattress face first, relaxing on the soft fabric. But, he couldn’t concentrate on that feeling now, turning to his left and trapping Yamada with his arms around his sides, legs entangling.
“Sleep.” He clued his face on the other’s stomach, his voice vibrating across the skin and gathering a mix of snort and squeal, probably because of the ticklish sensation.
Oh. Ticklish.
“Babe, I really can’t right now. There are those videos I asked for my students to do and I really need to analyze and give them the results before the weekend.” Aizawa scolded his expression so his devil smirk wouldn’t be noticed by Hizashi, instead he looked up, locking their eyes, his features inexpressive as ever.
Hizashi bit his lower lip.
He frowned, intense glares.
“Okay, okay! You know I am weak for those kitten eyes, your cheater.” The blonde pouted and pointedly ignored the smug shining on his partner’s face. “But this is only a break, ok? Just some cuddles and then I’m going to finish my work.”
Aizawa hummed, not quite agreeing, not disagreeing. Yamada laid down and chuckled as the raven haired adult quickly hid his face on his neck, a hand absently running on his back and melting his strict pose.
“Cuddlebug.”
A yelp escaped from his lips as Aizawa used a thumb to prod the so, so sensitive skin between his shoulder blades. The morning events from yesterday fell on him as a bucket of cold water, sending shivers down on his spine, essentially when Yamada tried to wiggle away, finding his form very well secured on his love’s arms.
“Shouta, no.” Shouta hummed, his voice vibrating on the sweet spot that was his neck, his stubble helping in nothing the giggles which already began to bubble on his throat. “Shouta, please, my love, light of my life,” he could almost feel the other’s wicked grin grow, the hand tensing behind him, “no, no, no! I can’t! You know I can’t! Shouta, I-”
And with no warning a loud shriek - which didn’t break their windows due how fast Aizawa activated his own quirk - dashed from his mouth, laughter blooming as a mix of pokes, scratches and kneading along the whole extent of his upper back, even giving some special attention to his ribs and spine, kept him in stitches.
His back arched at the tickly tickles, sending him directly to the unbearable nuzzles of his husband, the main reason for so many squeaks and squeals make themselves present on his uncontrollable laughter.
“Tsk, tsk. One would think that such a known pro-hero would be able to put up with a better fight.” Nuzzle. Scribble. Unintelligible pleas of mercy. Raspberry. “Always so easy to read…You could at least try to pretend you aren’t loving every. Second. Of. It.”
“Shouta! Nono! Shuhuhut up! Shut up!”
“It’s not my fault you were always so defenseless to teases. What about we train you to endure them?”
Hizashi shook his head, laughing and shrieking too much to gather a real answer.
And, as sudden the attack came, it was gone. The hand went up to gently massage his scalp, tearing a relaxed sigh from Yamada as he fought to get his breath back, high-pitched giggles still tripping from his lips since the light tickles continued on his poor neck, sporadic kisses and eventual nibbles on the spot right under his chin maintaining his gigantic, bright smile.
“So ticklish, so helpless. Just a few well placed touches and I can already defeat you.”
“You talk as if you were any less susceptible.” A squeeze on his knee warned him about the possible consequence of his words. Hizashi pinched his thigh in retaliation, although much less energetic.
“Don’t. Different from you, I want to get some real sleep.” And then he started to comb the blonde hair, Yamada’s eyelids began to drop, his tiredness now being much more present as the other used his number one melt spot against him.
“Cheater…”
“You will survive.” Shouta tilted his head up and kissed his husband’s lips, also starting to drift away as Hizashi’s arms pulled him closer.
“Good night, babe.”
“Night.”
#Switch!Aizawa#Switch!Yamada#Ticklish!Shouta#Ticklish!Hizashi#bnha tickles#bnha tickling#Aizawa *being tickled*: I am going to get you back! You know I will/ Mic *chuckles*: I am in danger :]#They're precious#Romantic relationship#Mouth tickles#Light and hard tickles#Teases and tickles#Kanene's Fic#Kanene's Fanfic#Kanene's Art#<333#I didn't proofread this so I will be making some edits on the future!
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 2
ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: I’m still on my fae bull shit so yee have fun with this
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: blood, violence, pov changes
ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ: @lilsparkyswife, a brief mention of @katsumiiii
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.9k
Yvonne’s Pov
The Summer Court was known for a lot of things. Yes, we did the dirty work for people who didn’t want to be seen doing it. We lied for liars, stole for stealers, and cheated cheaters. But we were big on loyalty. I mean if we couldn’t trust one of our own, who could we trust? But driving back home, knowing what we had to tell Bakugou….
Maybe it was better if we lied.
We found him training. Sweat dripped down his face as more and more holograms blur around him. His muscles tighten in frustration as the holograms look like they are about to win. Power training was something I always hated. We were already fast and strong, why work yourself to the bone to gain some other ability. But some people did it, Like (Y/n), but others have tried every day to improve themselves to no avail. All of us has given up at some point, Bakugou was just a matter of time.
The hologram knocked his sword out o his hand, and he glances at it as if something miraculous was going to happen. When he realizes nothing is happening, he lets out a grunt of anger.
“He’s rarely happy anymore,” I think to myself. “ Well, it wasn’t unusual, well for Bakugou at least, but his obsession was going a bit too far”
“Good luck with him,” Mina says while Mira walks away.
“If you live we’ll see you in the meeting room. You know where, so don’t die.”
“Gee, Such wonderful friends,” I say back.
. Turning back towards the entrance of the training room, I walk, cleared my throat, and spoke up
“Bakugou?”
All I get is another grunt as a reply, knowing he was somewhat listening. He continued his workout, concentrating on summoning a weapon in his hand.
“Bakubitch!”
He gives me a glare. Well, that got his attention.
“Whatdoyouwant?”
I hated when he was like this, not wanting to listen to anyone else even his friends. Steeling myself, I spit out the ugly truth to him
“(Y/n)gotkidnappedanditwasn’tourfault.”
“What? You said that too fast for me to even hear.”
“(Y/n) got kidnapped-”
“HUH?? HOW’D YOU IDIOTS LET THAT-”
“Will you shut up and let me explain?”
Rolling my eyes I wanted until Bakugou was calm, well calm enough, to begin.
“We had a mission. One assigned to us by the King. Someone from Spring Court wanted someone from Autumn off their back and they had enough money to pay for it. Shit went sideways and long story short, (Y/n) got taken… by Izuku Midoriya.”
I barely had time to doge before the knife was embedded into the target behind me. Such primal behavior, attacking me without warning.
“So you’re telling me… Izuku Midoriya took (Y/n) and you and the rest of the team, just fucking stood there?”
Another knife dodged. He’s making it harder and harder for me not to hit him
“Will you stop using me as target practice long enough so we can get her back?”
“It’s the Autumn Court. Who knows where they took her? She could be halfway to the gates of hell and back before we figure it out.”
Walking over to the target and prying the daggers off of it, I threw them back in rapid succession. He dodged the first one, but the second one scratched his face, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake.
“Next time you throw a knife at me make sure it hit its intended mark”
And with that, I leave the training room.
(Y/n)‘s POV
Being interrogated by the Autumn Court was…
It’s an experience, let's just say. They had a lot of ways of making you talk, and once you open your mouth there is no stopping them.
Due to their power, vocals are the thing that they focus heavily on. It’s easy to fall into their trap but easy to evade it if you know what you’re doing. Just don’t say anything. I’ve been doing that for three hours now.
Granted it was hard. They tried everything short of laying hands on me. Ripping my dress, threatening my family and friends, you know the usual. But they couldn’t get me to talk. Then they called the motherfucking prince, who also happens to be the person I wanted dead.
“Just answer the question, doll, and you can go home.” Stupid motherfucker, staring down at me with that condescending smile I think. The haze of his power swirling around me, deep and smoky. Izuku was powerful, yes. But against me, he was nothing.
Smiling at him, I think to myself ‘You’ll get me to talk when I’m dead and gone’
Tracing his hand on my jawline slowly, like I was glass, brittle and ready to break.
He stares deep into my eyes and for a moment, a hint of a second, I see the pain in his eyes. Something indescribable, intangible, but somehow there. And the moment is over. Harshly grabbing my chin, the pain is covered with feral, oddly flat green eyes.
“Tell me. Or else we’ll have to resort to… uglier methods of gaining information from you. And trust me, darling, you won’t like those methods.”
I took the saliva from my own mouth, aimed carefully, and spit on him. It landed directly on his eye.
“You fucking cunt!” He recoils in disgust, wiping his eye fervently. I smile in pride, knowing I got under his skin.
He backs up away from the cell I was in, taking one more look at my triumphant face, before saying to the guards,
“Make sure she doesn’t escape.”
I heard his angry footsteps echo, and finally, the silence came.
The guards snicker at the recent events, before one of them saying,
“You’re going to regret that, you know? No one messes with Prince Midoriya and lives to tell the tale.”
“Guess I’ll be the first,” I replied back.
And then I broke the chains.
Izuku’s Pov
Fuck I missed her. She was the part of me that I never knew I needed. She was my blood, my bones, framing me into what I am now. And seeing her now, it made my bones ache, my blood sing. An agonizing, beautiful song. Placing my head into my hands, I bite the insole of my palms.
‘Where did it all go wrong?’ I thought to myself.
Sorting myself out, I walk through the quiet corridors of the Autumnal Palace. The sun shining through the high glass windows, mocking me with its beauty. It seems fit, having such a wonderful day go on outside as I suffer internally. With hastened pace, I make my way towards my personal team.
Stopping in front of the common room, I fix myself, running my hairs through my hair before walking in.
“Oh hey man,” Sero was the first one who saw me, giving a toothy smile “How’d the interrogation go…” he trails off, seeing the scowl on my face.
“So not well” One of Shoji’s many arms pops up and says.
Choosing my words carefully I say “It didn’t go as expected. (Y/n)’s a difficult one.”
Difficult wasn’t even the basis to cover it. She was infuriating, complex, and every time I see her it spurs my heart on erratically. But how could I say that in words?
My team was a good one, personally trained by myself, but sometimes they were a little too bit much.
Ochako pipes up from where she was sitting “Izu, don’t worry. We finally caught (Y/n)! After two and half years no less. All your hard work won’t be for nothing.”
“Yeah, man! This is cause for celebration! We finally caught (Y/n), Summer Court’s deadliest assassin. It’s time to kick back and celebrate-”
At that moment, Ojirio storms in, face in pain as blood soaks his normally white clothes. The look on his face said that something was clearly wrong.
“(Y/n) escaped)”
Cocking my eyebrow I stare at Sero.
“Celebration huh?”
(Y/n)’s Pov
I hated being chased. Everyone talks about the exhilarating feeling of almost not making it but does anyway, but all I feel is annoyed. Turning another corner I hear in the distance. Luckily the guards tattered the ends of my dress, so it was easier to run in it
“Don’t let her escape! We need her alive!”
‘Autumn Court’ I thought to myself ‘One person escapes and they go bat shit crazy. Well, it is me.”
I look around looking for a place to hide out until the guards’ pass. Then looking up I spot...
“A vent. Perfect.” I whisper to myself. Working quickly, I made my way into the ventilation system. I keep myself there, holding my breath until I hear footsteps. It was two of the workers there.
“It’s such a shame,” one says to another. “King Toshinori has never done anything helpful since the Prince had been announced.” The other one shakes their head shamefully.
“I know right? Even since Izuku became prince, he’s nowhere to be seen or heard. It’s like he just placed all the burden on Prince Izuku and moved on with his life.”
Oh? Izuku’s being packed with the burden. I guess Von will find that information useful. Waiting until I couldn’t hear the voices of anyone, I get down from the vents.
“Easy as pie.” I smile at my genius.
“Spread out and find her! She couldn’t have gone far!” I see one the second in command, Ochako Uraraka yells. My smile turns into a grimace at her figure. I’ve never liked her but after the incident three years ago…
I didn’t let myself think of it, rather waited until I couldn’t hear footsteps anymore before dropping out of the vent.
Corridor after corridor, I run the palace. The orange-gold of the palace becoming a blur as I see the doors towards my freedom.
“THERE SHE IS. AFTER HER!” Fuck they found me. I was almost there, just a little more…
Then I feel a large object knock into my back.
Giving a little as I went down, I turn quickly. Seeing the familiar hair of…
“(Y/n) don’t do this,” His soft voice rings out, power laced in it even now. “Just come back and we can get you home safely” Gritting my teeth at Izuku, I clench my fist and throw a punch. All the while my other hand summons a small dagger before dipping it in some poison and stabbing Izuku in the thigh.
How dare he. How dare he pretend that he cares, after all, he did to me, to my Court.
“Fuck!” Izuku screams.
Pulling him up by his collar I spit it out.
“Rot in hell.”
In the back, the rest of his team runs, seeing their leader hurt.
Not sticking around, I take off running, getting the doors of the front of the castle.
The night was dark as I fumbled slightly down the stairs of the castle.
‘Shit, shit, shit. I need a place to hide’ I think.
Running towards the car area of the courtyard, I see a black party bus sitting fairly near the gates. Sneaking into the back doors, I sit in the darkness.
“She couldn’t have gone far, split up and search.” I hear the voices agree before splitting off in different directions.
“Well, Well, WELL.” I’m suddenly knocked off my feet, and without another chance to regain my balance, my chin is grabbed. Sharp nails meet my flesh, threatening to make me bleed.
“What should we do with her Dabi?” a feminine voice reaches my ears.
“Drug ‘er. We’ll deal with her when the others come back. Shiggy will know what to do with ‘er”
“Sure.” Something stabbed into my neck and everything goes dark.
onto the next chapter? | the last chapter
Taglist: @xetou @kunikida-kun @asaincy @ryuvanaka @katsumiiii @lilsparkyswife @katsumox @silkylious @inkwicke @myhoodacademia @mypimpademia @readergurl20 @angiebug101 @artof-apollo @namjoonswifeyy @moonlit-xio
Crossed out means I couldn’t tag you ; Send an ask to be added >:D
#tcosaa#rumi.writes#anime#anime x reader#anime x black!reader#anime x poc!reader#bnha#bnha x black!reader#bnha x reader#bnha x poc!reader#bnha x black reader#izuku x you#izuku x black reader#izuku x poc!reader#bnha izuku#izuku midoria x reader#midoriya x reader#midoriya x poc!reader#midoriya x black!reader#deku x black!reader#deku x reader#mha izuku#mha#mha x reader#mha x poc!reader#mha x black reader#deku x fem!reader#mha x female reader#izuku x female reader
34 notes
·
View notes
Video
youtube
𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐒
( ~ Sero Hanta x Black Female Reader Insert ~ )
GENRE: Smut and Fluffy Fluff!
FANDOM: Boku No Hero Academia (My Hero Academia)
TRIGGER WARNINGS: There are only mild warnings for today; mentions of cannabis, Dubcon on the account that Sero is high, and slight dacryphilia.
SUMMARY: Sero gets jarred by a nightmare, so he smokes and watches over Reader-Chan until she wakes up. They talk a little and she soothes him back to sleep.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hey there! This fic is part of my 100 followers event that I’m hosting in light of recently reaching, well, 100 followers.. I WOULD LIKE TO NOTE THAT READING THESE FICS WILL BE SOOOO MUCH BETTER IF YOU READ THEN WHILE PLAYING THE SONG!! I PROMISE, IT’S A WHOLE VIBE!! If you’d like to request a scenario, a song and/or a character, I’m MORE than welcome and open to do that! My ask box is open! Thank you so so much for your support!
WORD COUNT: 3385
(Headers are mine, but the art inside of them are not! Please don’t steal or repost without credit!)
“You’re not getting away this time,” was an ugly, disgusting voice that resonated in Sero’s head that, after a long series of nightmares, had him shooting up, panting softly with sweat sheening his muscular body, his arms hugging his legs to his body. It was 4:15 in the morning and he had to be up in a couple of hours, but he still couldn’t go back to sleep. He figured he’d take a day off and try to catch up on sleep that he’d been missing. He looked over at you who was sleeping peacefully in the bed. He admired everything about you for a long while, his hand caressing your face gently as his heart slowed to a healthy rate. He kissed your fawn cheek gently before he slid out of bed. Your soft breaths resonated in his mind and he smiled a little as he saw you take a deep breath and cuddle into a pillow.
“Te quiero, cariño. Duerme bien por mí, ya vuelvo. [I love you honey. Sleep well for me, I’ll be right back.]” He mumbled to you softly before he walked to your kitchen silently, adjusting his joggers a little as he ran his fingers through his hair making his bang run unruly as he leaned over the counter. As soon as he leaned forward in the dark, his head in his hands, he’d broken down. He’d been having nightmares from a previous intense mission for about a week, and this just happened to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. Soon he was a mess of tears, his palms collecting every drop as he cried into the darkness of the kitchen. His knees were weak, his body burned with want to be a “useful” hero like Bakugo or Kirishima. He’d started to slip into a fit of insecurity while you slept in innocence in the room, the comforters like waves crashing over you and hugging your body. He let out a soft shaky sigh before feeling his way around the counter to find the coffee pot. He figured he’d be awake anyways, why not make some coffee for after his smoke. He gently spooned the coffee grounds into the filter, filled the pot with water and let the coffee brew as he sighed softly. He leaned against the counter again, grunting softly before looking over at a small box he kept on the counter. He grabbed the small container and a box right beside it. He stole a lighter from beside the set and he slid it in his pocket as he rolled himself a late night/early morning blunt. It’d been awhile since he smoked, but whenever he did, it always managed to make him feel more confident in himself, made him relax, and it made him overall just more laid back. That’s why he waited for that moment when he finally broke down to smoke, and he always waited until you were asleep so you didn’t have to deal with him as his insecurities told him you would. He walked to the small pocket in your room and the living room that contained a big beautiful bay window in which the two of you often cuddled.
From the window, you had a pretty secular view of the city and city lights and the sunrises and sunsets were absolutely otherworldly. He took his place, opening the window up while looking at the late night stragglers scurry along the pavement. He licked the strip that he had left out and smoothed it against the rest of the blunt, sticking one of the ends in his mouth, taking his lighter and holding it up to the tip but resting his head against the wall/ sill instead, taking the blunt from his mouth with two fingers and a heavy sigh.
“¿Qué estoy haciendo? [What am I doing?]” He mumbled to himself with a soft sigh before shaking his head and resting one of his elbows on his knee that was raised, his fingers tangling with his hair again. “A la mierda. [Fuck it]” he mumbled out to himself as he watched himself light the blunt with squinted, teary eyes. He took a long drag out of it and ghosted the smoke holding it in as he felt his brain get a little more hazy. He stared over at you laying on the bed as he forced his high. He flashed a soft smile before starting to cough quietly. When he exhaled, there was hardly any smoke left and he even looked surprised at himself. He admired the smoldering bud in between two of his fingers before he took another drag and hummed softly, leaning his head back against the wall again as he looked outside of the window, the sky slowly turning brighter shades of purple and blue. He knew it was getting later, but for once he didn’t care. He just watched you sleep, smiling subtly with a slight reddish tint under his eyes. “Mi hermosa niña... ¿Cómo he tenido tanta suerte? [My beautiful girl… How did I get so lucky?]” he whispered to himself as he took yet another drag from his blunt, holding it in until he got lightheaded and he blew the smoke out of the window.
“Dos ángeles perdidos descubren la salvación… [Two lost angels discover salvation..]” he mumbled quietly from a song he’d remembered you playing but he couldn’t quite pinpoint from where. He was too far gone at this point, but he noticed that that one line held weight to him even though he loved the whole song. He loved the songs you played possibly because you were the one who played them and when you sang them, you matched no other; because ‘music is the purest and rawest form of affection’ he always said. You started to hum softly in your sleep, stirring under how bright the moon was before the sun came up. You sighed softly and let your eyes flutter as you watched Sero smoking in the window, his slender fingers playing in the smoke clouds that he exhaled, that happy grin on his face, his squinted eyes as he got lost in himself and his thoughts of you. You couldn’t help but to notice how the moon and soft light of the fast approaching day illuminated his skin and this made you smile as you stretched in the bed still half asleep.
“Ah, see,” you giggled softly. “I knew I smelled somethin,’” you giggled as you watched him slowly turn his head towards you. “You had another nightmare or somethin’,” you asked as you continued to lay down and cuddle your pillow. He didn’t say anything, he just nodded and sighed softly. “Aw baby,” you say softly as you sit up and stretch again, yawning and rubbing your eyes a little. “Why didn’t you just wake me up,” you ask softly as you threw your legs over the side of the bed, adjusting the shirt that hung off of your body as you made your way over to Sero on the seat of the window.
“Lo siento, [I’m sorry,]” he mumbled softly as he blew smoke out of the window. “I didn’t want to disturb you because I know you have a shift today,” he whispered softly. “I just wanted to watch you sleep,” he said quietly as he let his arm reach in front of him, the blunt half smoked in between his fingers, his elbow resting on his knee gently. You made your way over to him and gently hugged him from the side, gently pulling his head against your chest.
“You know you mad cute when you get like this right?” You giggled softly as you ran your fingers through his smooth hair. He blushed a little and hugged your waist from the side, closing his eyes and completely relaxing into you.
“Honestly, no, cariño, that’s all you,” he said softly as he felt himself get emotional again. “Can you sing me that one song… Where he says.. Something about, ‘two lost angels discover salvation,’ sometime,” he asked and your mind instantly woke up. You smiled a little at the scent of brewing coffee sneaking into your room.
“That song by Miguel? Coffee?” You chuckle softly and sway slowly as you hum softly, always open to sing to your love even if it was entirely too early and you were low-key getting a second hand high from him.
“ I wish I could paint our love…
These moments and vibrant hues…
Love play, turns in to gun play,
And gun play turns into pillow talk…
And pillow talk turns into sweet dreams…
Sweet dreams turns into fucking in the morning… Fucking in the morning…” you hummed softly to him as you felt his free hand hug your arm. He was getting glassy-eyed again loving how you felt against him so early, singing to him so sweetly as you tenderly held him.
“Sí mi amor, [Yes my love,]” he whispered softly as you sung to him, his head tilting back as his eyes closed. “That’s the one…”
As you usually did, you started skipping parts in the song to ones that you liked more. He hummed softly with you and he nuzzled his head into your chest as he took another drag from his blunt and listened to you.
“Old souls, we found a new religion… Now I’m swimmin’ in that sin, that’s baptism... Pick a star in the sky we could both say goodbye… Old souls we found a new religion, now I’m swimmin’ in that sin, that’s baptism…” You looked down at him and his almost ashed blunt and you laughed softly as you saw how adorning his gaze was and he hummed with you softly.
“Two lost angels discover salvation.. Under bright peach skies watching the sun rise…”
“Dos ángeles perdidos descubren la salvación.. Bajo brillantes cielos de melocotón viendo salir el sol…” He mumbled softly with you before putting his blunt out and standing up, his hand resting at your waist before running up his shirt that you were wearing. He kissed you gently and slowly, gently running his tongue, which to him felt like cotton, over your bottom lip before sliding it into your mouth. He bit your bottom lip and fell into a slow rhythm, gently and slowly leading you to the bed, pushing you down as soft growls left him and he ran both of his hands up your body, gripping your chest, kneading into your breasts slowly and gently as you started to grind into him slowly and subtly, both of you halfway asleep, and Sero now sensitive because of how stoned he was. He bit your lip again and tugged with his teeth, gently and slowly pulling away, kissing down your neck as your hands guided his strong hips to grind into yours. His eyes looked a little fogged over and distant from what you could see, but in all honesty, you didn’t care. You’d had a bad dream and feeling him against you was exactly what you needed; having him love you down while you quietly showed him how to take care of you while slowly improving both of your moods. The soft, crisp breeze pushed through your room through the opened window and it cooled you down as you felt Sero’s teeth against your neck. You whined softly and ran your fingers through his hair slowly, messing his hair up as his strong hands continued to knead into your chest, his eyes closing as he let out soft hums against your skin. It got to the point where you started to hurt with how rough he was being so you gently caressed the side of his head and pointed him onto how to change and help you right.
“A-Ah babe, that’s just a lil too hard,” you whispered softly as you felt him lift the shirt and you shivered at the sudden cold air over your body as his hands eased up on the squeezing and pulling.
“Lo siento, mi amor, [I’m sorry my love,]” he said softly as he pressed his lips against yours, his eyes running over your nipples before he hugged you close to him and slowly and gently sucked on one, his tongue swirling slowly and gently around the bud making your back arch into him, your fingers getting lost in his hair as you let out sleepy moans, that song running on loop in your mind as he tended to you. You gently ran your fingers over his chest and under his shirt to tease his nipples while he cared for yours. He let out soft shuddering breaths against your skin as you pushed your hips into a slow grind into his.
“O-Oh fuck,” he whined softly as he nipped your neck again, practically losing himself as he slowly slid one hand in your panties, one finger effortlessly pushing into your dripping cunnie making you push into Sero some more, your eyes looking gone too. You looked up at him and pulled his head closer as you arched your back into him.
“Please,” you mumbled to him softly. “Please give me another finger,” you slurred out as you clung to him and started to ride his finger. He couldn’t do anything but oblige, his fingers curling sweetly into your sweet special spot as he added another, his hand slowly thrusting them in and out sloppily as his body tingled with his high. “T-Thank you! O-Oh f-fuck thank you,” you whined out quietly, slowly maintaining a slow rhythm so you didn’t overwhelm him but you still got your pleasure. One of your hands clung to Sero, gently peppering soft kisses over his lips, your teeth catching his lip occasionally, the other hand slowly stroking him through his joggers. He trembled and let his legs give out as he leaned into you, gently kissing you back, soft hums and groans brewing in his chest as he rocked himself against your hand. He couldn’t help his shuddering breath against your soft shapely lips in between every kiss and nibble you dealt. The way his muscles flexed with every movement as he tried not to cum had you dreamy eyed and wanting more.
“S-Sero p-please, You whined softly as you tried to close your thighs, the way his fingers pressing against your special spot having your back arched and breathing hitched and stuck in your throat. “P-Please… I-I want you,” you whined out softly, wanting so badly to cum while he had you impaled on his cock. He looked down and then back up at you, his eyes halfway closed and bloodshot. He stopped grinding into your hand slowly and let out a choked whine against your lips, his hands worshipping your beautiful body.
“Can I… G-Go inside,” he asked softly, gently kissing your cheeks, your lips, and down your neck as he waited for your answer. Even while he was in his intense high, he was still just as respectful as ever; even as his muscular body hung over your seemingly delicate frame that he loved so much, even panting and gasping for air as he tried not to cum. You, of course, nodded and gently kissed his forehead gently.
“Yes, Sero,” you said softly as you spread your legs for him more. “P-Please… I want to feel you inside of me,” you said softly and sleepily. “Fuck me back to sleep,” you said softly before watching his eyebrows knit a little. He pushed his boxers and sweats down, slowly and gently trying to line himself up so he didn’t hurt you when he slid inside, sucking his fingers clean as he hummed softly.
“Mi amor,” he whispered softly. “I’m not ‘fucking’ you,” he said as he let out a pleasured groan, slowly sliding the tip inside, arching his back and throwing his head back as he suddenly felt the intense pleasure, wanting more, but wanting to go slow. “I’m making lo-love to y-you,” he whispered, soft curses spilling out of him as he slowly slid himself in, inch by inch, his body becoming even more tense as he slowly bottomed out inside of you. “S-So t-tight,” he whimpered softly, his pelvis catching your clit when he did bottom out inside of you, his eyes glistening with tears of overstimulation already but you didn’t mind. The way he filled you up, a small bulge forming in your tummy as he tried to adjust, you clenching down around him driving him crazy. His lips quivered as he stared at you, his mind running circles, his heart pounding against his chest enough to shake his core, frantically swallowing as he choked back his own orgasm. “I-I c-can’t move,” he whispered softly sounding like he was going to break down into tears. “I c-can’t… B-Baby!” He whined loudly as he slowly grinded his hips into yours, tilting his head back as he lost control of his tears letting them dampen his reddened, hot face. He looked down at you and watched the moonlight catch your body, not being able to rip his gaze away from you, watching how your face beautifully contorted as you grabbed at him in a desperate attempt to get closer to him, moaning out soft curses after moaning out his name, how you pressed your body into the bed. He didn’t know that he had this hold on you with such slow and subtle movements, but it was obvious he was driving you insane and he loved it all. He took in the sight in front of him, falling in love all over again as he towered over you and rolled his hips into yours slowly and rhythmically.
“I-I’m so-sorry! L-Lo siento! I-I’m g-gonna c-cum,” he whined out after a fit of choked moans. “Te quiero... Te quiero tanto, cariño- [I love you, I love you so much, baby-]” he whined out, his breath hitching at the end of his sentence, his hips fucking into yours dealing hard thrusts as he tried to milk himself using the grip you had on him as leverage. “F-FUCK! C-CUMMING! I-I’m c-cumming!” He moaned out as he completely broke down into overstimulated tears. You whimpered loudly and egged him on, your legs wrapping around his waist so he could reach deeper inside of you, your eyes glazed over as you looked up at him sleepily, feeling him tremble against you with soft groans.
“Y-Yes,” you moaned out meekly, drowning happily in all of Sero’s sounds. “T-Thank you! F-Fuck! Thank you thank you thank-“ Your breathing hitched as you were filled up, your eyes rolling back into your head as you came and clenched hard around him. “F-Fuck! S-SERO,” you screamed out, scratching into him roughly as you bucked your hips riding out your high against him, tears of your own threatening to spill from your waterline. His body was twitching and trembling as he whimpered softly at your throbbing insides tightening around him over and over again. “You d-did so good for me baby,” you whimpered softly, guiding him down to your level, gently positioning him so he could lay on your chest. He was a sniffling mess, stray tears falling down his face, his eyes glistening as he looked up at you while you played in his hair and rubbed his back still cockwarming him. “My beautiful boy,” you whispered softly, gently kissing his forehead, slowly drying his cheeks of his tears as he tried to get his breathing under control. He tried to speak, but his jaw felt as heavy as a cinderblock, he could only sputter out soft mumbles as you continued to coo at him and massage his back and neck. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll call in later,” you whisper softly, gently kissing the top of his head, humming to him softly to lull him- successfully- to sleep as the purple-ish hues of the early morning melted into soft peaches and dim golds blanketing the both of you. You hummed softly and managed to hum yourself to sleep, just moving your hips a little to get him deeper inside of you as you slept. You loved the feeling of him filling you up, the scent of the brewed coffee now completely in your room making you slip off deeper into sleep.
#black velvet x bnha#hanta sero#sero hanta#mha hanta sero#sero x y/n#sero x#miguel#coffee#sweet dreams#sero smut#hanta sero smut#sero lemon#sero latino#100 followers event#Sensuality 100 Followers#Hanta Sero lemon#sero hanta imagine#sero headcanons#love song#smut#bnha smut#bnha sero hanta#sero x black!reader#latino!sero#hispanic!sero#sero x female reader#sero x you#hanta sero x you#sero hanta x reader#sero hanta x you
94 notes
·
View notes
Note
Did someone ask for a quick and angsty immortal jaskier prompt? "It was supposed to be the music," he whispered, voice breaking. Heart breaking. "The songs. I wanted my songs to be remembered forever. I never wanted this."
Why would you do this to me anon. i’m already crying over the fact dandelion outlives everyone he loves. Major Character Death Warning. Obviously. Literally everyone dies. Uuuh also this kinda turns into Lambert/Jaskier at the end but like. They’re both Centuries old so nothing Happens.
When the wasting sickness swept through Lettenhove it killed his Mother and his Father and his Sisters and left him untouched.
He was ten and the world was over. Except he kept waking up in the morning.
At thirteen a girl at Oxenfurt, Essi Daven, played her Lute in the commons and sang and had the most beautiful cornflower blue eyes. And for the first time in years he sang a duet with her and suddenly he was a bard and he had a little sister again.
Maybe the world hadn’t ended. Maybe it finally restart.
At seventeen he met a man with white hair and seemly as many scars on his body as his heart and fell in love. Because Bards fell in love easily and he was impossibly easy to love.
The witcher plead for his life. Plead for them to let the bard go.
“No. Both of us or neither.” He was done outliving those he loved. At seventeen he was already done with that. “You kill him and let me go and i’ll destroy your mountain. Kill every last one of you in revenge.”
He’d leave behind a song. The one he’d written as a child and had swept the town more devastating than even the scarlet fever had been. It would live on past him. He would be remembered. The people he loved would be too. Toss a coin to your Witcher. The people he loved immortalized in song.
It wasn’t supposed to make him immortal.
“Give it a rest Jaskier.” Danity snapped. “It’s not you that has to be afraid of anything. No one ever touches a troubadour. For unfathomable reasons you’re inviolable.”
He’d still feared then. Chappelle could have had him killed. He was pretty sure he could die. Mostly he feared the pain. Or dying alone.
“When an old woman gets tired of life she walks into the woods without a weapon. The results are guaranteed.” He’d told Geralt when he’d moaned about how the world was changing and -more importantly- that he had no work.
Remember how I don’t even carry a knife when I follow you out on an adventure? No weapons at all. Ever. Just me and my lute.
He’d brushed death. A thousand times he’d almost met her. He followed Geralt- who was prophesied to always have death follow after him. You’d think at some point they’d meet.
Essi and Geralt fell in love on the coast. He wrote a ballad for them. About how their love was so powerful not even death could come between them.
He never played it. Not to anyone. He didn’t think it was actually about Essi and Geralt.
When rash appeared on Essi’s face in Vizima during the quarantine his hands shook.
“Not her.” He’d screamed at the gods. They didn’t exist of course. If they had then they’d abandoned them all long ago. “Not her.”
“Jaskier?” She shivered violently. “I don’t want to be burned.”
“You won’t be. You’re going to be fine.” He promised. Clutching her hand. “Promise Poppet. You’re going to be fine.”
The cremation fires blazed outside.
“I want to be buried in the woods. With my lute and-” She hurled mostly into the bucket. “My necklace. Please Jaskier.”
“Course Poppet. When you’re old and grey I will bury you out in the forest.”
“Thank you.” She clutched the little pearl. “For giving me him. I love him.”
“I never saw him happier than when he was with you Poppet.”
“What about when he was with you?”
“Oh come now.” He shifted her in his arms and moved the bucket a little further away. “You know me. I’m insufferable.”
“I love you Jaskier.” She cried as she shivered with less and less energy.
“I love you too Poppet.”
He carried her from the city. Into the forest. Her heart stopped beating before they arrived. He dug her grave and buried her with her lute and her pearl necklace.
With the pearl he’d given to her as a birthday gift. From him and Geralt.
When Regis passed it felt absurd. Humans weren’t supposed to outlive goddamn vampires in their fifth fucking century.
And then there was Geralt. Died in Yennefer’s arms along with her.
“It was supposed to be me.” He told no one as Ciri led their bodies out to the lake. “I was supposed to die with him.” Love so great not even death can part us.
But the story was never really about him was it?
Nenneke had a garden full of plants that grew under a crystal skylight. They didn’t grow anywhere else in the world anymore.
He’d asked Geralt about it. She’d said something about the sun and how it was changing. Apparently Geralt had asked why they all didn’t live under crystal skylights then, if it was so deadly.
“It’s already too late for us.” She’d said.
She talked liked the world was ending but the world ended all the time. And he still woke up in the morning.
Zoltan’s beard turned grey. He supposed he should have been thankful that Zoltan got to turn grey. It was better than most of the people he’d loved.
“How’s your fucking hair still Gold. You’re supposed to be getting old too!”
“I dye it.” He lied with a roll of the eyes. He’d stopped dying it years ago.
That winter he buried Zoltan too.
Golden eyes stared at him in confusion. “You look just like.” He started. His thin hair was grey. His wolf medallion gleamed in the sunlight that streaked into the bar.
“You’re one of the last Witchers i think.” He told him as the waves crashed outside. “Might even be the last.”
“Fucking hope so.” He sat down across from him and stole his beer. “Shitty job and a shitty life.” He squinted at him- which Jaskier knew was entirely unnecessary. He just forgotten to adjust his eyes. “What’s your name bard?”
“Dandelion.” He answered. It had been for the last century. “Yours?”
“Lambert.” He downed the drink. “You really think i’m the last? That worth a song? One of my brothers had a lot of songs.”
“Yes I suppose he did.” He waved for another drink. “And look what it got him.”
“Died surrounded by people who loved him.”
“Are you sure you know what a pogrom is?”
That got him a sharp toothy grin.
“I could write you a song but-” He was tired of burying people he loved.
“But?”
“I’m cursed you see.” It was definitely a curse these days. “I’ll live until the last of my songs is forgotten. I really don’t need anymore material.”
Lambert leaned forward curiously. “Doesn’t sound like a curse.”
“You don’t think it sounds like a curse?” He sneered. Lambert’s face faltered. “To outlive everyone you love?”
Lambert paused. Thinking. “Write me a song then. Play it just for me. So if my song’s the last we’ll go together.”
“And what’s my payment for this song?”
“Company.” Lambert’s grey eyes glittered. “You look like you need it.”
“Not as much as you. I bet you talk to your horse.”
“Well i know you do pretty boy. Heard you in the stable.”
He leaned back on the bench. “So what’s a Witcher do in a world without monsters?”
He shrugged. “Fish mostly.”
“I can do that. Once almost snagged a catfish the size of you. Got a djinn instead. Very bad deal honestly.”
“You expect me to believe that? I know about Bards and Ballads and how you’re all rotten liars.”
“Don’t forget about fisherman and their tales.”
The boat leaked worse than an old drunkard but it was small enough and the lake calm enough that it didn’t make him sick.
“I could just kill you. Curse probably can’t fix decapitation.” Lambert offered with his stick in the water. He claimed were bombs they could use instead if they got desperate. Or bored.
He smiled and shook his head. “Give it a try.”
Lambert raised an eyebrow but pulled a silver blade from it’s sheath.
His pole reeled and the boat tilted to the side, plunging him and the sword into the water.
He laughed as the attempted to drag the monstrous fish to the boat. Lambert cursed and climbed in. Yanking at the rod until the line snapped and they fell back into the boat in a painful pile. Laughing.
He didn’t remember the last time he’d laughed.
“Sing me a song bard.” Lambert would request from under his floppy sun brimmed hat. “No else up here but me.”
“There’s an entire stone keep on the hill.”
“No ones lived there in centuries. No one can hear you up here but me.”
He frowned at the ruins on the hill. Lambert kicked him.
He grinned and for the first time in decades - sang.
Maybe. Maybe the world hadn’t ended. Maybe it had finally restart.
“What was this place called?” He asked as they wandered through the crumbled ruin, covered in moss and ivy.
“Kaer Morhen.” He said like the words hurt him.
They hurt him too. He laughed.
He laughed some more.
He couldn’t stop laughing until Lambert smacked him hard enough to see stars.
“I never got to come here. Geralt.” He caught the flinch but moved past it. “Never trusted me enough to even let me know which country it was in.”
“So you were his bard.”
He nodded as Lambert kicked a stone apart. “He was right not to tell me of course. But.” It still hurt that his best friend hadn’t trusted him with his home. He’d taken Yennefer here. But not him. Never him.
He didn’t deserve Geralt’s trust. A thief, a liar, a spy, a bard. It still hurt.
“Well a wolf finally took you here. Is it everything you fucking dreamed?”
He took it in. “Nah. It’s rubbish.”
Lambert smirked. “Yeah. At least that hasn’t changed.”
“You’re hairs getting grey bard.”
“What?” He nearly leaped into the water in his haste to look.
Grey strands streaked his beard.
“Thank you.” He cried. “Thank you.”
“Still owe me that song Dandy.”
He wrote Lambert a lot of songs. Performed for an audience of one.
“Are you really okay with the fact no one will ever hear them? I mean what’s the point in being immortalized in song if-”
“Yeah. Didn’t give a shit about the songs.”
“Hey!” He protested. Kicking him where he lounged in front of the fire. “They’re good songs!”
He grunted in fake pain. Wiggled out of range. “Did Geralt ever tell you why he liked having you around?”
“My charming personality I assume.”
Lambert snorted.
He sat down on the floor and poke him. “Don’t fall asleep. Tell me why you think he did.”
“No one tells Witchers bedtime stories.”
“Oh.” Lambert was halfway to sleep already. “Would you like one?”
“Yeah.”
“What you think happens after?” They were huddled together. Old and grey as a storm raged outside. “We die.”
“I gave up on gods when i was a child.”
“So did i.”
“Then.” He paused. Listened to the howl. “Whatever’s next at least neither of us is going alone.”
Lambert squeezed his bony hand. “What’s the chance we see them again?”
“Hm.” He pretended to consider. “Well we’re definitely going to hell so-”
“Like anyone we gave a shit about wouldn’t be.”
“Point.”
He closed his golden eyes. “Hey Dandy.”
“Yeah?”
“Sing me out.”
“It’d be my pleasure.”
And quite singing filled the drafty cabin until the song stopped.
The world ended.
And at long last no one woke up in the morning.
#geraskier#Jaskier x Lambert#Immortal Jaskier#jaskier#Essi Daven#canon deaths#play me out Dandelion#Let's go together#also Anon I specifically Requested NO IMMORTAL JASKIER CAUSE IT NOW BREAKS MY HEART#damnit#hope this breaks your heart you bastard#thanks for the prompt#someone send me fluff#writing
129 notes
·
View notes
Text
Green-Eyed (Tom Holland)
A/N: This was supposed to be short but I got carried away as always. I don’t think this is the best I’ve written but I’m hoping it’s not as shit as the usual aha. Also to the anon I’m sorry if this took a lil longer than expected hun. Hope you still like it! <3
Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader
Requested:
Warnings: A dick-ish (if u squint) jealous!Tom and typos.
Word Count: 3.6k
Masterlist in Bio
-:-:-:-:-
"Pretty please?" Tom dragged out his last word as he rested his head sweetly on your shoulder, sporting his best puppy-dog eyes with bottom lip pouted to make it harder for you to resist him.
You groaned in dismay as you threw your head back on the couch, eyes screwed shut to try and ignore the face of your handsome but very annoying best friend. "Why me Tom? And why'd you ask me this so fucking last minute?"
Tom has decided to tell you just now that there's a charity gala tomorrow, and that he wants you to be his plus one. Countless of a-list celebrities would be there to support different causes, so imagine the upmost dread you're feeling just thinking about joining Tom when that wasn't even your type of crowd, when you've never been to an event like it to begin with. Plus, you know he will have friends there too, if he hangs out with them, what would you do then?
The event tomorrow starts at six p.m., and he's just told you this now, clock showing eight-thirty p.m., who would not be annoyed? Better yet, who wouldn't be terrified?
"You're my best friend, you're the one I want to the there with. Come on, it's for charity, you never say no to charity."
This motherfucker...
You turned to him with a glare, arms crossed over your chest at his foul play. "You're not playing fair you know that."
Tom sat straight back up, body turned fully to face you, eyes still showing the same gleam as he pressed his palms together, resting it under his chin to beg. "Just please? You won't feel left out I promise. I'll be right there with you all night." He reassures as if he was able to read your mind, but being friends for long enough, you had no doubts that he probably could, to an extent of course.
Let's be honest, there was no way you'd say no. One, it's for charity; and two, it's Tom for heaven's sake, you never can. But the fact that you are simply unprepared to go to an event like this, it's daunting.
"I don't even have anything to wear."
Tom only chuckled sheepishly at that, hand coming up to rub on his shoulder, a nervous tick of his you've grown to adore, even if you've been trying so hard not to.
Got to have those boundaries.
"Uh, I already bought you a dress and Christine is going to help you with everything else. So please say yes." He shot you the brightest smile he could muster, one where it showed his rows of teeth with his eyes all crinkled. You blinked at him in deep surprise.
He already had this thought out huh?
"You are unbelievable Holland." You grumbled.
Tom chuckled in response, smug grin in play as he wriggles his brows at you. "Now, will you do me the honors of coming to the gala with me Y/N?" You rolled your eyes at him, sighing in disbelief but nodded anyway.
"Fine."
And just like the kid that he is, Tom threw his hands up in the air, shouting a 'yay' in pure glee before wrapping his arms around your rigid form to give you a tight squeeze, you playfully pushing him away in feign annoyance.
You were still nervous. How can you not be when you have no idea what to expect during this gala, who you were going to meet, but with one look at this stupid boy—who is also a big celebrity which you tend to forget—beside you, you felt yourself relax a little.
How bad can it be?
***
"Wow."
Tom gushed, the phone he had on hand lowering ever so dramatically, tearing his eyes off of the screen to scan you from head to toe. You felt your cheeks warm at his reaction. "Does it look okay?"
"Okay? You look fucking gorgeous. I knew I picked the right dress." He exclaimed all proud, sauntering over to you looking incredibly handsome himself, the color of his suit—not exactly matching—but coordinating with yours just right.
"You did."
Best believe you're the last person to stroke this man's ego, but you have to give credit where credit is due, he did pick the right dress.
It was a short, red satin dress with the waist embezzled with a silver crystal belt. The back was bare along with a plunging v-neckline to match, making it look sexy and classy at the same time. And the fact that it fitted you perfectly, it made you feel elegantly beautiful in the most sophisticated way.
How has Tom managed to get you the perfect size? He "borrowed"—his choice of word when you insisted he stole it—one of your dresses and used it as a guide. A clever boy.
Your hair was up in a messy bun, small curls falling freely to frame your face, one that sported just enough make up just to enhance your natural beauty and not make it look superficial.
"Damn, I can't take my eyes off of you." Tom muttered under his breath, eyes still glued to your figure and you can't stop your heart from skipping a beat at that.
Whether he meant to say that out loud, you don't know, unable to decide if he was playing with you in a best-friend-banter kind of way or if there was an underlying meaning in his tone, but you can't seem to think about that now. Not when the nerves were already eating you up inside out just thinking about the event, thinking about which celebrity you were going to meet and if you weren't going to make a big fool out of yourself, so you cleared your throat.
"Tom quit ogling we're going to be late."
Tom shook his head with a shy chuckle, blush prominent on his cheek as he made way for you with a curtsy. "After you mi lady."
"Thank you Christine!" Tom called out before both of you were out the door, him helping you in his car like the gentleman that he is and then driving towards this most awaited gala.
***
You were actually having fun.
Tom has introduced you to a few of his 'famous' friends and you were delighted to see that they were just as sweet and kind. You've met a couple artists here and there too, just casual conversations, one after the other, you and Tom going through it together as he's never left your side the moment you two arrived, just as promised.
That until he decided to get you a drink.
Standing in your place you looked around the extravagant hall of the humongous mansion—or castle more like it—admiring the huge chandeliers that adorned the ceiling along with the beautiful murals that coated the space. You were busy appreciating the artwork that you didn't notice someone was approaching until they spoke.
"Hi, I'm Calum." Startled, you let out a small squeak as you looked for the owner of the voice, eyes meeting brown ones and you felt your whole face heat up once you recognized who it was.
Calum Hood from 5 Seconds of Summer, the band you've been a big fan of for how many years now.
You shook his hand with a shy smile, whole body going timid once he gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go. "Oh, hi, uh Y/N, and yes I know who you are. I love your new album."
"Oh really, thank you so much." Calum chuckled with a grateful nod, eyes looking at you in a way that's made the butterflies in your stomach tingle a little.
"I don't mean to come off weird but I saw you just standing there and you look really beautiful and I needed to say hi." You blinked, surprised at his words.
What kind of fanfiction is this?
You flashed him a sweet smile, a small giggle coming out of you as you responded bashfully. "Thank you. You look really good too."
The conversation just took off from there. You asked him about their new music while he asks you anything mundane that comes to his mind. You keep on laughing at something clever or stupid he had said, proximity just close enough to prove that you were having a great time. When you finally calmed down, Calum cleared his throat, hand rubbing behind his neck nervously.
"Mind if I get you a drink?"
Before you could even do as much as move your mouth to give him an answer, a deep voice spoke just behind you,
"I'm sorry but she already has one."
Your head snap back to see Tom, face stern with jaw clenched tightly, a certain glint coating eyes. The obvious anger you can see yes, but there's something else mixed with it, one you couldn't pinpoint as to what exactly it is yet.
"Ah, Mr. Tom Holland. Nice to meet you mate." Calum greeted politely, the bloke already knowing that you came here with Tom having that you've told him.
"Likewise." Tom's lips only quirked up just a tad bit as he took Calum's hand with a tight grip, not too obvious but you noticed it nonetheless. Calum only chuckled with a knowing nod, giving Tom a certain look— like he realized something you haven't—before turning to you with a charming smile.
"I'll leave you two to it. It was nice meeting you Y/N." Calum says as he pulls you in for a warm hug, your arms wrapping around him with a small squeeze in return as you responded with just as much delight. "You too Calum."
You watched him walk away, Calum giving you one last look over his shoulder with a small wave before disappearing into the crowd.
"Well, there goes my daydream of being a musician's girlfriend, touring around the world while singing their songs in the crowd and being their number one fan." You joked, but Tom didn't find even the tiniest of humor in your statement. In fact, it only made him angrier, nostrils flaring as he gave you a pointed eye roll.
You furrowed your brows at him, utter confusion covering you from head to toe at the look of pure disdain on your best friend's features. "What's up with you?"
"Nothing." Tom shrugged, eyes never meeting yours since the moment he got back from fetching you a drink, said drink that's in his hand but by the looks of it, he has no plan on giving it to you, not even his full attention.
"Well, it surely doesn't look like it's nothing Tom." You frowned at him in concern, hand going up to give him comfort but he blatantly rejected the gesture.
"Let's call it a night, I'm not feeling well." He grumbled, not even waiting for an answer as he quickly turned on his heel and walked away. You tried your best to catch up with him, following closely behind with nothing but bewilderment plastered on your face, still oblivious to the reason of his sudden change in attitude.
"Tom, slow down a sec." He ignores, still walking at a fast pace, not having any sense of empathy at the fact that you were wearing high heels. That's when you felt your anger boil too.
"You know what. Fuck it, if you're going to be a bitch for no goddamn reason then I'm taking a cab." You hissed, and that made him stop. Tom took one deep breath before turning sideways, offering you his arm to hold, gaze still avoiding yours at all costs.
You rolled your eyes and moved ahead, too much pride coursing through you to let his bitchy attitude slide, making sure to bump his arm purposely as you quickly made your way to the parking lot with Tom now following you.
***
The ride home was silent to the point that it was deafening, Tom not paying you any mind as if you weren't there at all.
You now understand that he was angry at you, fuming even. If the way his face was practically red up to the tips of his ears, the way you can practically feel the heat radiate off him wasn't a dead giveaway, then, the tight grip he had on the steering wheel and the speed the car was going, would be.
But as to why exactly that is? You have no fucking idea. As far as you know, you did absolutely nothing wrong.
Letting out a deep sigh, you turned your body to face him fully, just wanting to get this over and done with. "Tom, tell me what's going on."
"It's nothing." He muttered under his breath, eyes dead set on the road ahead. You scoffed. "Don't fucking lie to me."
"I said it's fucking nothing now leave me the fuck alone." Tom barked, the car lurching forward at his sudden burst of frustration.
You were never one to sit still and take bullshit, especially when it's Tom being a dickhead. When that happens due to whatever reason, you're for sure the one the first one to call him out on it. Besides, him driving this fast while angry is never safe.
"That's it, pull over."
"What—"
"Pull over or I'm going to open this fucking door without hesitation." Tom groaned, fully infuriated but did as told knowing you were nowhere near playing, just the tone you had, he wasn't going to risk it.
Once he put the car in park you shot him a glare, voice stern as you ordered. "Get out of the fucking car Tom."
He didn't say another word of protest as he harshly took his seatbelt off and got out of the car, slamming the door shut to make a point of how mad he was.
You were glad the place where the gala was held was detached from the city, a forty-five minute drive to the nearest highway, so the road was pretty much deserted, nothing but endless trees in view. The only source of light was a couple of street lamps, the car's headlights and the bright, full moon that shone high above.
You followed him out and in front of the car, leaning your weight on the hood as you stared at the tensed back of your best friend.
"Now tell me what the fuck is going on with you." When he didn't even do as much as turn around you growled in warning.
"Thomas."
"Alright!" With one deep breath, he finally turned to face you, jaw still set as he shoved both of his hands in the pockets of his slacks, a two-second pause before he finally spoke.
"I'm just frustrated, angry and fucking annoyed." Tom's voice turned low, his eyes casted on the grass where he was standing on, just two feet away from your place on the car.
"At me?"
He sighed, taking sharp intakes of breaths before finally lifting his head up to meet your eyes, so many emotions swimming in his brown ones with a frown on his lips to complete his whole troubled look.
"No, not entirely at least. I'm just, I left you for a second and when I came back the next thing I know you're having such a great time, laughing and flirting with this Calum guy—"
"Calum Hood."
"I don't fucking care what his last name is." Tom snapped, and that's when everything fell into place for you, lips pursed as you tried your best not to break into a smile.
"What is so wrong with me flirting with him Tom?"
The boy lets out a exasperated sigh at that, hand coming up to run through his hair in frustration that it made a curl go astray, a tasteful sight to you especially with him all agitated.
"I just didn't like the way it made me feel okay? Just seeing you laughing at his jokes, getting so close to him at times, just seeing you with someone else I just, it's just—"
"It makes you jealous?" You finished his sentence for him, your heart pounding due to excitement, warmth filling you up at the thought of your best friend getting riled up just thinking about you with another guy, because you feel just the same when you see him with another girl.
"Yes goddammit! It makes me so fucking jealous!" Tom exclaimed, all fucks thrown out the window as every feeling his been bottling up for years now comes bursting out, spilling right on the brim. "It was hard as is trying to fend off these guys who can't stop staring at you, who won't stop hovering over you because by the gods above you look absolutely breathtaking tonight. I really can't blame them because you stole the whole room, but it doesn't make me feel any less frustrated."
"Frustrated on what Tom?" You asked softly, his gaze cutting off with yours as he lets out a sigh, hands falling limp on his sides as he looked up at the starry sky.
"Frustrated because I wanted nothing more than to pull you closer to me, to wrap my arm around your waist to make them back off, but I couldn’t, I had no right to. I wanted to make them see that you're there with me so they need to fucking scram, but what power do I have? I'm just your best friend." Tom was pacing now, going on a full on rant with his hands swinging about to express his emotions and you let him. You sat still and watched as he pours all his heart out, watched with a stupid wide grin on your lips.
"But I want to be more than that Y/N. I don't want to be just your best friend and tonight just slapped me in the fucking face that I genuinely don’t want to be with anyone else but you. But then you went and said that you wanted to be a musician's girlfriend, it just made me so mad and hurt and just—" He stopped himself, head hanging low as he tried to regain his breathing.
You shook your head at the boy with sigh. "I was kidding Tom. I don't want to be a musician's girlfriend; I want to be an actor's, the one who plays Spider-Man to be quite specific."
The way his head shot up so quick to look at you in pure shock made you laugh, hopeful brown orbs staring you down as he made his way towards your spot on the car. You uncrossed your legs as you let him in between them, let him move even closer until his hands took home right on your waist, giving them a tender squeeze as a smug grin slowly formed on his lips.
"You mean—"
"You know, Andrew Garfield, I heard he's single again." You shrugged casually, teasing smirk in play, your little revenge for him being kind of a dick just earlier. Tom's head fell forward to land on your shoulder, arms wrapping fully around your form with a proper whine.
"Y/N."
You let out a hearty laugh, cupping his face with both hands as you pull him off of you, just enough to be able to look at those lovely brown orbs, his bottom lip all jutted out making him look unbearable adorable.
"Of course I meant you, you idiot. There no one else I want to be with other than you Tom." A sweet chuckle escaped Tom's lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, vicinity rightly close to be able to let the tips of your nose brush against each other.
"How are you so beautiful?" Tom sighed in pure adoration. You didn't respond with words, you just tilted your head a little to place your lips right on his, satisfied breaths ringing in your ears as the two of you cherished the feeling that you've been craving for far too long, mouths fitting perfectly like two puzzle pieces, a kiss filled with nothing but utter bliss, pure love.
"I love you." Tom whispered the moment you pulled away, eyes showing not but sincerity and you felt your heart grow ten times its usual size. You hummed, fingers playing with his hair on the nape of his neck fondly. "And I love you, you jealous dork."
With a few more kisses under the moonlight—some sweet and chaste, some not so much—the cold air finally got to the both of you, making your way back inside the car with wide smiles, unable to wipe them off.
"Let's go back to the gala?" Tom grinned, left hand steering while the other sat warmly on top of your thigh, a gesture so sweet until he decides to give it a teasing squeeze every now and then. "What, so you can reintroduce me to everyone, now as your girlfriend and not your best friend?" You joked to which Tom only shrugged with a hum. "I don't see why not."
You shook your head at your man, squaring your shoulders as you said nonchalantly. "I mean, if you want to it's okay. The matching pair I have under this dress can wait."
Tom choked at that, tearing his eyes off the road to give you a swift glance to see if you were serious or not. You only shot him a knowing wink in response, lips curved up teasingly, but nowhere did it show on your face that you were lying with what you just said.
That's made you arrive back home in lesser time that's for sure.
-:-:-:-:-
Like, Reblog & Leave a Comment if you enjoyed! Let me know what you think! <3
Tom H. Taglist: @spacebitch2 @hollanddolanfangirl @keepingupwiththehollands
#tom holland#thomas stanley holland#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland imagine#tom holland one shot#tom holland request#tom holland stories#tom holland writing#tom holland blurb#tom holland drabble#tom holland reader insert#tom holland imagines#tom holland oneshot#tom holland short stories#tom holland fanfic#tom holland fluff#tom holland fic#tom holland fics#tom holland jealous#tom holland x you#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x reader#tom holland x fem!reader#peter parker fanfiction#my writing
766 notes
·
View notes
Text
VII: By Invitation Only
(Batgirl/Red Hood)
Description: Reader and Jason go undercover in a Mafia den. Part one, two, three, four, five, and six.
My mind buzzed with the sights and sounds of Little Italy. Boots scuffing sidewalk, and the persistent hum of the moving parts within the heart of the city. Quiet, serious conversations mumbled low between men of business, and enthused gossip among thick-accented women at every café and park. The ever-present stream of conversation in the townhouses and shops was exciting. I fell in seamlessly to the strange mix of wealth among poverty, the stringent immigrant culture surpassing both.
The mission itself was straightforward- the kind of business I actually didn’t expect the Red Hood to bother with himself. He got some info from one of his contacts, Giuseppe Bianchi, whose job was to, according to Jason, “sing like a fuckin’ canary”. Bianchi informed him a week ago that one Adriano Cliffs was trying to strike a deal between two mafia families under Red Hood’s control. It was in the realm of real estate; ‘property’ investments that were actually investments into the nefarious affairs that would be taking place on said properties. According to Bianchi, moving chemicals. Red Hood didn’t care about chemicals; it was part of drug trade or domestic biowarfare or what have you, but it was the principle of them moving under his nose. Trying to grub up some deals he wasn’t a part of.
“With the mafia,” He said. “You give ‘em an inch, they take the whole fuckin’ county.” Thus, our job was to go to a dinner party, unassuming guests, and try to figure out who else was involved, so Red Hood could later pay them a visit.
I didn’t ask if he’d kill them.
I had the invitations in my clutch; beautiful little parchment cards with gold lettering. Thank you, Bianchi. There was a stark contrast between going on a mission in my Batgirl suit, and going on one in a green silk dress. I had no trouble dressing the part of the socialite- and apparently Jason didn’t either. He wore a red satin dress shirt, unbuttoned to feature a plunging neckline, paired with a black blazer that had an asymmetric stand collar. Frankly, I was impressed. It looked better than the suits Bruce used to put him in.
The location of the party was a quaint little townhouse nestled in upper Luskan Square. The building was all cream paint and red brick, with pretty green vines cascading from window planters. I could hear music from inside; raspy strings and jaunty horns in a dixieland, swinging tempo.
The two mafia families were Pellegrino and D’amici; two bloodlines that were previously in a feud so contentious that 1/4 of Gotham City Morgue was full of its casualties at any given time. All that until around four months ago when Kane Pellegrino married Penelope D’amici like something straight out of Romeo and Juliet, but with more guns, cocaine and happy endings.
Jason leaned over to me as we approached, whispering lowly in my ear, “The matriarch- Olivier D’amici- she’s a touch odd. Paranoid. Just keep her busy durin’ the party, and I’ll do the rest. Cliffs should be here, too.” I nodded, and flashed a blue-ribbon smile at the doorman.
“Invitations?” He asked. I gave him the cards, and after a brief inspection, he nodded. We entered the foyer, welcomed by the smell of warm food and laughter. The living room was lit by an elegant and tasteful chandelier. It had a more antique and eclectic charm than the manor’s modern refine. Able to attract less attention if we split up, Jason vanished into dining room while I stayed in the living area, mumbling the occasional polite “excuse me” as I tried to make it seem as though I were a frequent guest of mafia dens. I looked around for a woman matching Olivier D’amici’s description- old, blonde, haggish. I silently kicked myself for not asking Jason to be more specific, because as it turns out, old, blonde and haggish was the memo for tonight’s event.
“Oof-“ I smacked right into what felt like a brick wall in a Versace suit. At least, I was right about the suit. I looked up to see a man of about forty peering down at me. His hair was a rusted gold, and he sported magnificently manicured facial hair- it made him appear very leonine.
“My apologies, dear.”
“Oh, it was my fault. I should be the one apologizing.” I said, suddenly nervous with the idea of being roped into a conversation. I was a fighter, not a liar. He chuckled, took a drink of his undisturbed wine.
“That’s sweet of you. It’s refreshing to find someone around here that isn’t too stubborn for their own good.” He said. “You aren’t from one of the families, are you? I don’t know that I’ve seen you around before.”
“I’m a friend of Penelope’s.” I quickly supplied the lie. Something like surprise flashed in his blue eyes, before his face steeled back agreeably.
“I see.”
“I was actually just looking for her. You wouldn’t happen to know where...?” I trailed off as he nodded his head, gesturing to the opposite corner, where a beautiful olive-skinned brunette appeared to be object of adoration in a small circle of people. I’d never actually seen her before- anyone who entered to living room would’ve notice her immediately.
“Oh!” I laughed. “I don’t know how I missed her! Please, excuse me.”
I took my time inching through the crowd, stalling. But the man didn’t take his gaze off of me until I reached Penelope D’amici, and her pool of admirers. Damn. He was going to keep watching until I talked to her. It would be utterly obvious it was an introduction and not an anticipated reunion. I took a deep breath and dug in my heels.
If you’re going to lie, I could hear Bruce’s voice in my mind. Dedicate yourself to it.
“Penelope!” I called. She turned, planting her stunning, doey brown eyes on me. I pressed a couple friendly kisses to her cheeks.
“Hello!” She said, clearly inured in the art of greeting. I stole a glance to the man, who had moved along just as Penelope gave me a politely curious look.
“Have we- um,” She looked so apologetic, I almost felt bad.
“Louise Casteñes?” I said encouragingly, giving her my fake name. “We met at the wedding.” Penelope’s face went a shade of pink, and she gave me a bashful laugh.
“Oh- the wedding was quite the evening, I’m really sorry if I forgot. You must think I’m so rude.”
“Oh, it was months ago, no need to feel bad.” I offered.
“I saw you talking to Mr. Cliffs. Are you two familiar?” I blinked. Adriano Cliffs. The man trying to sabotage Red Hood- and now was suspicious of me within fifteen minutes of the party. Good fucking going.
“Not really, I just accidentally ran into him. I’m lucky he didn’t spill his wine.” I replied. Penelope laughed, the sound like wind chimes.
“If you asked my grandmother,“ She said. “She’d say he’d deserve it.”
“Olivier, right? Your grandmother?” Penelope nodded.
“Did you meet her at the wedding as well?”
“I didn’t get the chance, I’m afraid.”
Her face lit up and she looped her arm in mine. Together we waltzed through the bodies and expensive antique furniture into the dining room. Jason was nowhere to be seen; he must have begun his hunt for information.
“Oh, you have to meet her! She’s the host.” Once away from the crowd, she leaned close in cospiracy, and added. “And I need an excuse to get away from those people. Looks like you’re my savior tonight.” She winked, and I laughed as she pulled me into a small, secluded reading room.
Olivier D’amici was- well- old, blonde, and haggish. She had pale skin like worn leather and powdery makeup, but her fashionable ensemble of emerald green silk and sapphire jewelry was stylish and unconventionally attractive. She was like a peacock personified. She was indeed a touch odd, and more than a touch paranoid- though not of me. After thirty minutes cradled in scandalous conversation about everything from the horderves to Kane Pellegrino’s bedroom habits, I learned that Olivier stuck her poignantly upturned nose away from the likes of Adriano Cliffs and his slimy business deals. She made no mention of Red Hood, but complained in great detail that real estate competition between the Pellegrinos and D’amicis was a problem solved by the marriage and that was that. Cliffs had been pestering her for months, but she wouldn’t sign a thing. When thirty minutes turned into an hour, I finally caught Jason’s face amidst the party. I hadn’t expected the following relief that washed over me as I excused myself.
We reconvened, settling on a chaise in the lounge.
“I got everything I need.” He said simply, with no further indulgence as to what he’d been up to for the past two and a half hours. I lowered my voice as I updated him on my end.
“Olivier doesn’t want to work with Cliffs- she thinks he wants to break up the families again. Penelope’s marriage was bad for his business.”
Jason nodded thoughtfully. “Good work, little bird.”
“She’s nice.” I added.
“Hm?”
“Penelope. She’s nice. And innocent.”
A beat passed before Jason sighed lightly, and leaned close, eyes moving across the crowd.
“You see that woman over there?” I followed his gaze to a pudgy, but frail woman in a wheelchair who had to be in her late eighties. Her purple blouse was adorned with a matching silk bow on the neckline, as she smiled as she cupped the face of a young boy. A grandchild, perhaps.
“Pepper de LeShapelle.” Jason’s lips grazed my ear for the closeness of them. “If the D’amicis enlist the help of some third party goons- guys just tryin’ to whip up some extra cash, feed their families- and those guys wind up in Finger River afterward, de LeShapelle signed the order. She pays the legal team, too. Been doing it since the eighties.” My gaze fell away from her. “Nobody’s innocent here, dollface. If Penelope is now- which I doubt- she won’t be in a couple years. Maybe she won’t gun anyone down, but she’ll sure as hell be signing the orders for somebody else to do it. That’s D’amici tradition.” I didn’t respond, letting my silence speak for itself. I still couldn’t get the picture of Red Hood pointing a gun at Penelope out of my head.
“Andre! Come, come.” A voice interrupted my thoughts. Jason turned and gave a charming smile to a man with a thick accent in a monochrome black suit. “Pardon, my dear, but I must steal your companion for a moment.” He addressed me. I smiled agreeably.
“He’s all yours.”
Jason- Andre, as it were- left in a blur of suits and pocket watches, and I wandered around the townhouse for a while, busying myself with scones and inspecting baby pictures until ten minutes passed, and the air began to dizzy me.
Nights in Gotham were always pretty; the shadows filled all the cracks and made the flaws too dark to see. In Little Italy, the view from the balcony was particularly breathtaking, with colors like oil paints against a dusk canvas. Stars hung low in the fading light, competing with the twinkling lights of the city below. I could see a ferry steaming along in Finger River. The shade of blue made me realize how the chaos had worn on me. Stepping onto the terrace was a cool and much-needed repose.
After a while, footsteps sounded behind me. They were heavy and relaxed; lazy strides that could only be Jason’s. He was intimidating in his armor, lurching into a fight with fistfuls of firepower and that daunting stance he always took. But somehow, he was more intimidating here, out of his element, with wine and music and satin blouses, affluent society moving around him like water in a stream. He was uncharacteristically poised to pretend. In a fight, I could see the anger, the strain, the stubborn willfulness in the way he trusted completely the momentum of his own body. He was a great combatant, but I knew his moves. I always knew what he wanted. Here, even though I could see his face, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Everyone was his enemy, everyone was his friend. He could smile at a mafia goon and scowl at servant, and feel the exact opposite way. I felt like he was always lying.
Jason sauntered over and leaned against the Romanesque stone railing. He smelled like cologne and wine, and in fact tipped his glass to his lips for a sip.
“Hope it wasn’t too overwhelmin’.” He muttered, eyes falling on the city. He looked apologetic- but perhaps it was the lighting.
“No, it’s fine. I just needed some air.”
Something like glass breaking sounded from inside, followed by a chorus of laughter. He glanced back, amusement dancing on his lips. I wondered if he’d rather be back there; he did so seem to love the fray.
I ran a finger across a crack in the railing. Dick would have loved to know I’d attended a party with the upper echelon of mafia society. I thought I’d remembered a stupid story about his escapades with congressman’s daughter at the G.C. Opera House.
“What’s wrong?” Jason’s low voice broke through my thoughts, and I looked at him, surprised at the expression of interest he wore. I hesitated, shifting my weight as I stalled. Of course I didn’t want to tell him I’d been thinking of Dick.
“It’s stupid.” A beat.
“Yeah? Tell me anyway.” He said, with some finality. Again, I paused.
“Go on, little bird.” He said, drawing almost imperceptibly nearer, dipping his head close, drawing a line between ourselves and the mansionful of strangers. “Tell me.”
I was agonizingly aware of the modest inches between us. “My moms… they loved to travel. Everywhere they went, they always did something- something memorable. They were the life of the party, everywhere. They had a lot of stories.”
He didn’t say anything. It made me nervous, so I kept going to fill the silence.
“They probably came to Little Italy a lot. Probably before I was born. Ma used to tease me, because I never did anything. Or went anywhere. I just studied and… stayed home.”
More silence. I didn’t even want to look at him. He was the Red fucking Hood and I was telling him about my dead moms like he was alcoholics anonymous.
“I can’t help but feel like… I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t disappointing them, really. But I keep thinking how happy and proud they’d be now if they… if I could tell them all the stories I have now.” I concluded, watching cars with golden yellow headlights file like ants down the cobblestone streets.
“Huh.”
I blinked- not really sure what I was expecting out of him. Emotional intelligence-wise, he did die when he was a 15 year old boy. I never really yearned for him to offer me solace; but the way he just looked at me and listened made me feel like I could say anything.
I looked over at him, and he flashed me a toothy, wolfish grin and sipped his wine.
“So, if they were here, what tales would you tell em, darlin’?” He asked, eyeing me with some unreadable plan formulating in his head.
“I… well, I don’t know. I guess I don’t have anything that impressive yet. I’m spending my first ever mafia party on a balcony.”
“Easily remedied. Come on, I’ll get ya another glass.” He stood.
“Well, I‘ve never drank wine either.”
He looked at me with genuine surprise. “Ever?”
I shrugged. He settled back against the railing. “Do you want to?”
“I don’t know…” I hesitated. I’d had beer before, and burning liquor in the dark quells of some distant classmate’s basement party. But that, I could barely remember. I added quietly, “It smells bad.” He laughed his uncanny, jagged laugh.
“Yeah?” He gave me a vexatious look. “How ‘bout just a taste?” I glanced at the empty glass hanging in his fingers.
“Too bad you drank it all.” I said teasingly.
“I said a taste, not a sip.”
He drew closer. Leaning on the railing like we were, it was easy to forget my height reached only his chest. Before I could give any forethought to what any of this would mean for me, his calloused fingers were tilting my chin upward, tipping my face toward his. I could feel the warmth of his body and breath- it made the night seem colder, though I knew it was tepid at worst. His lips were soft and considerate when they met mine, gently adding pressure. It was a feather-light, brief thing. What startled me more than the kiss itself was the gentleness of it.
When he pulled away, I breathed, realizing I’d forgotten to. I blinked as he let go of my chin, a small grin playing at his lips as he surveyed my reaction. Realizing he wasn’t going to kiss me again himself, I leaned in this time, butterflies fluttering in my stomach as I did. Jason kissed me back, more enthusiastically this time. His tongue danced against my lips until I parted them, whereupon he slipped it past my teeth. The intimacy cradled me like a blurry dream- I hadn’t at all been expecting to be here with him, tonight, like this; and yet here I was, and not wishing to be anywhere else. Jason was with me- tall, strong, gorgeous Jason Todd- choosing me over all the rich and beautiful people of Little Italy beyond the stained glass french doors of the terrace. Choosing me over the criminals and vagrants he had the power to puppeteer for any purpose he so chose. The way his mouth and tongue felt was dizzying. And he was right; I could taste the wine. Fruity and tangy, with a more earnest, earthy bitterness just below the surface. When my breath hitched, asking for air, he pulled away. After a deep sigh, I leaned into him, letting his arms encircle me, laying my head against the fabric of his shirt.
Our mission was over. We could’ve left any time. But there, then, I couldn’t even associate with the idea of pulling away from him.
#batman daughter#batgirl reader#batgirl#batsister#batfamily imagine#batfam#batsis x batfamily#jason todd imagine#jason todd x reader#jason todd x y/n#jason todd#red hood#red hood imagine#red hood x y/n#red hood x reader#batsis x dick grayson#dick grayson#nightwing#batsis x tim drake#tim drake#red robin#damian al ghul#damian wayne#batman and robin#batman#batsis x bruce wayne#bruce wayne
125 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
dedoxy
DeDoxy
theengagementstory
Stage: Plan Proposal
modwyr
It's not quite Vegas, but it's close.
privatesecuritybenefits-blog
Benefits of Private Security
bangtan-wallpaper
BTS Wallpapers