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queenshelby · 3 years

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A New Life

Part Six: Gone Too Far

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 4,977

Warning: Fluff, Smut (a lot of it!!!)

Shortly after you emerged from the bathroom, Laura apologised to you but, for you, it was too late. You wanted to go home and, whilst you told Cillian to stay and enjoy the theatre play, he was determined to at least drive you back to your house.

‘I will take Y/N home’ Cillian said before handing Laura the theatre tickets and money for taxi so that she wouldn’t use public transport after the play was finished.

‘Sure, alright’ Laura huffed out somewhat disappointed before whispering to you while Cillian asked the waiter for your coats and paid for dinner.

‘I suppose this is the perfect time for you to make your little move, isn’t it?’ Laura said somewhat annoyed and you simply shook your head.

‘Think what you want to think Laura. I don’t really care’ you said somewhat frustrated.

‘Neither do I, because I will have my chance soon. Cillian and I will be working together on the UNESCO project next week’ Laura explained just before Cillian returned with your jackets and asked whether you were ready to leave.

***

‘You know you could have stayed’ you said after you arrived at your apartment and you unlocked the door, letting you both inside.

‘I really didn’t want to stay Y/N. Dinner was bloody awkward’ Cillian chuckled before taking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket in the hallway.

‘Do you mind if I have a quick shower before we watch a movie? I tend to get uncomfortable in these pants’ you said as you handed Cillian a bottle of red wine and two freshly washed wine glasses.

‘Not at all. Want me to pick a movie?’ he asked and you nodded, knowing that he would pick something good as his taste in movies was much better than yours.

***

When you emerged from the bathroom, you sat down next to Cillian on the sofa, wearing a black loose cotton dress.

Your hair was freshly washed and braided and Cillian couldn’t help but notice the scent of your shampoo.

‘Very coconutty’ he chuckled before handing you a glass of wine.

‘Too much?’ you asked, unsure whether he liked it or not.

‘No, I like it. Reminds me of my last holiday in Spain’ Cillian observed.

‘I didn’t realise that they had coconuts in Spain’ you said somewhat surprised.

‘I don’t think they do but everyone at the beach used this fancy coconut scented sunscreen. I even ended up buying a bottle because it smelled pretty good’ Cillian said somewhat randomly and you couldn’t help but laugh.

‘You are weird’ you giggled and, just as you did, Cillian laughed.

‘I’ve been told that before, especially by your brother’ Cillian said just before he turned on the movie.

‘Well, I like weird’ you said before looking at the TV.

The first scene of the movie was rather steamy, featuring two actors almost completely naked in the shower, making love to each other.

You couldn’t help but gasp before purposely drinking a large sip of wine from your glass.

‘A friend of mine recommended this movie’ Cillian said, feeling the need to explain his choice which is when you suddenly turned to face him.

‘How do you act out those kinds of scenes?’ you asked, causing Cillian to chuckle.

‘After you familiarise yourself with the script and your character and get undressed, you just switch off. You put yourself into the mindset of the character and just do it’ Cillian explained.

‘Does it feel different kissing someone on screen as opposed to kissing someone in real life?’ you wondered and Cillian nodded.

‘Very different because, most of the time, you don’t actually want to kiss the person you are working with. I like kissing a lot but it can be a little awkward if you are kissing your co-star’ Cillian explained, making you blush.

‘So, you like kissing, hmm?’ you asked cheekily.

‘Of course. Don’t you?’ Cillian responded somewhat amused by your question.

‘No actually, I’ve never been a big kisser’ you said, biting your lip nervously. You had always thought that kissing was overrated and the two men you’ve been with before weren’t really good kissers.

‘You are still young. Perhaps you just haven’t kissed the right person yet’ Cillian then said reassuringly and, just as he did, you leaned closer towards him carefully.

‘Perhaps’ you said quietly, swallowing harshly, before tentatively caressing Cillian’s face and brushing your red wine-stained lips against his.

Cillian parted his lips slightly, allowing you to kiss him for a second or two before, suddenly, he pulled away.

‘I can’t Y/N’ Cillian then huffed out, leaving you somewhat stunned.

‘So, when you told me the other day that I am attractive, you just said that to cheer me up. You don’t…’ you began to say, but Cillian stopped you.

‘I am attracted to you, alright. You are beautiful and very sexy. But you are also twenty years younger than me and you are my best friend’s sister. It just doesn’t sit right with me. Despite, as I told you, I am not interested in dating anyone. I just need a break from dating’ Cillian explained calmly.

‘I am not interested in dating anyone either Cillian, especially not someone who lives on the other side of the globe and who resembles exactly what I was trying to get away from. But, I can’t help but being attracted to you and I want to sleep with you, just once’ you said slightly tipsy, causing Cillian to gasp.

Cillian cocked a brow, his eyes burning. ‘Why me? Wouldn’t you rather do this sort of thing with someone your own age?’ he asked, amazed by your directness.

‘No, I don’t. In fact, I think that you are very handsome and I trust you. I’ve never had a one-night stand before because, quite frankly, I haven’t trusted anyone enough to keep it to themselves. With you, it’s different’ you explained and, just as you did, he leaned in and pressed his lips back onto yours in a more heated and passionate kiss.

The truth was that he had fantasised about you for a while, but would never have acted upon his desire to sleep with you because of his relationship with Cian. When, however, you made such tempting proposal to him, it was difficult for Cillian to deny himself any longer and his primal desires took over. He hadn’t had sex in four months and the attraction he felt towards you was intense, even to the point where he couldn’t remember a time where he felt so attracted towards another woman before. He needed to get it out of his system and so did you.

‘This is a one off thing and it needs to stay between us’ Cillian huffed out after your lips drifted apart and you nodded in agreeance, pulling him closer again.

The kiss quickly became fiercer and you realised that he was right. You hadn’t kissed the right person before because, what he was doing to you with his lips and tongue, was unbelievable.

His tongue circled around yours, exploring your mouth while, every so often, he pulled against your lower lip with his teeth slightly.

It was intense and much unlike any other kiss you had experienced before.

‘I think I might be changing my mind about kissing’ you whispered out against Cillian’s lips in between several passionate kisses and your comment made him grin.

‘Wait until I show you what else this mouth can do’ Cillian smirked as his mouth left yours and he lifted up your thin cotton dress and pulled it over your head.

You resisted a little but eventually allowed him to remove your dress, leaving you wearing nothing but your panties. However, being very self-conscious, you immediately covered the scars on your stomach with one of your hands while forcing Cillian to look up into your eyes.

Without saying a word, his lips met yours again for a passionate kiss just as you were inhaling sharply, worried about what he might think when he saw all of you in the dim light of the living room.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ he then asked, sensing your nervousness and reluctance but you shook your head.

‘Good, because that would be really damn difficult for me now’ Cillian chuckled, causing you to laugh and, just as you did, Cillian ceased the opportunity to move your arm out of the way and away from your stomach.

‘You are beautiful Y/N, there is no need to cover up your body’ he then said before taking off his t-shirt, causing you to gasp again.

His upper body was covered in small freckles and he had a little bit of chest hair, which you couldn’t wait to get your hands in. His body was toned, much more than you had expected and, just as he threw his t-shirt onto the floor, he kneeled there in front of you and starred at your body just as you starred at his.

‘Second thoughts?’ you asked but he shook his head with a grin.

‘Absolutely not. Just admiring the view’ he smirked before looking up at you and his gaze was almost as hot as your skin felt. It was too much and you couldn’t get enough.

He was right though. You shouldn’t be doing this, a voice screamed in the back of your head, but as Cillian dipped his head down to your breast, teeth grazing over sensitive flesh, you slammed the mental door on that voice.

‘Oh god’ you murmured as Cillian kissed and grazed over your bare breasts and you turned your brain off and focused once more on him as he pulled back. The usually-vivid blue of his eyes was blazing now, dark and stormy as he watched you through sooty lashes.

‘Are you sure you want this?’ he then asked again and you nodded.

‘Good, but you need to relax’ Cillian then said again, still noticing your tension and some apprehension and realising that you were uncomfortable in your own body.

‘I will try’ you said just before a sensual warmth flooded your chest as he lowered his head again, lips brushing softly against your nipple. A soft breathless sound fell from your lips, followed by a quiet moan. What he was doing felt simply incredible and he needed no further encouragement as he moved his hands to the curve of your waist, trailing tiny touches across your stomach like he was mapping out your body for his memory.

His mouth continued its assault on your nipple and you reached for him, one hand at his shoulder and the other in his hair, tugging at the roots with every new nip and flick of pleasure he offered.

Until you pulled too hard and his head came up, eyes so dark they’re nearly black, but a small smile ghosted across his wet mouth.

‘Easy’ he said in a gruff voice that tightened everything hot inside you and shot to your core. It pooled there, hot and heavy and adding to the anticipation that you were not sure could amp up much higher because, if you were not touching more of him in the next five seconds, you would lose your fucking mind.

‘Let me touch you Cillian’ you told him and his full lips tugged into a cocky grin.

‘Not yet, we’ve got all night’ he smirked just before his mouth shifted and grazed across your ribcage and down towards your stomach.

You tensed again and tried to get his attention somehow as he was too close to your scars, but he wouldn’t let off. Instead, he kissed you and touched you, devouring your body and breathing in the scent of your skin.

You closed your eyes against the sudden swell of panic that gripped your throat as this wasn’t something you were used to. You took a shaky breath, acutely aware of the cool air across your breasts and his lips on your stomach which is when he asked “do you want me to keep going?”

You nodded almost imperceptibly, causing Cillian to smirk.

‘Then you need to relax’ he reminded you.

‘Trying’ you huffed out nervously, which is when Cillian told you again how beautiful and sexy he thought you were and that he loved everything that he was seeing right there in front of him.

He then lowered himself over the swell of your hip and he caught the fabric of your panties in his teeth, tugging them down as he moved down your body and away from your hand.

You inhaled sharply and, finally, spread your legs and let him look.

‘You are so fucking wet already’ Cillian observed before he swore under his breath, voice rough and hot with desire. His eyes were glued to you and you felt both, drunk with power and at his mercy.

A world of contradictions balanced in the space between your bodies, and it shattered when he lowered his mouth to you, tongue snaking out to catch the slickness of your folds, evidence of how much you wanted this.

‘Oh my god, fuck’ you moaned as you felt the warmth of his mouth on your aching pussy. His teasing licks lingered over your slit until you began rolling your hips, mewls of pleased torture pouring from your mouth when he skillfully avoided your clit.

You didn’t dare to grab his hair and risk him stopping, so you fisted your hands in the blanket beneath you, twisting against his mouth to get him where you wanted him.

‘Impatient, are we?’ Cillian teased you, knowing exactly what you wanted. But he was determined to take his time with you especially since he knew that this was going to be a one-night stand.

‘Please Cillian, fuck just…please’ you gasped, hips pressing desperately against him for more as he had spent ten minutes licking you, teasing you with his tongue, giving you just a little bit each time.

He lifted his head, looking up at you from between your thighs and it was so fucking sexy that you thought you might come right then. His mouth was wet with your desire, and he smiled devilishly at you before moving his hands from where they rested on your thighs, up to bracket your hips and held them still against the couch you were on.

‘Do you want to cum?’ he asked with a smug smile and you nodded eagerly in response. You weren’t sure what made you think that you would since no one had ever made you orgasm before without the help from a vibrator, but you were determined to let him try not that he had been edging you for ten minutes already. If worse came to worse, you knew what to do if you didn’t get there in the end.

But, for Cillian, this was all part of the game. He loved to tease and little did you know that he could play this game for hours until you would literally squirm and scream for your release. But not tonight, tonight he was simply going to give you what you wanted provided that you beg.

‘Please Cillian’ you asked again, causing him to smirk.

‘Please what?’ he teased.

‘Please just make me cum…please’ you said, desperate for his tongue to make contact with your mound again.

Luckily for you, he finally relented and his lips closed around your clit pretty much as soon as they made contact with your mound.

‘Oh fuck, yes right there’ you screamed as you couldn’t even remember your own name much less the movie you were supposed to be watching.

Then his tongue was everywhere and he began adding one finger followed by another inside of you.

He curved his fingers upwards slightly while he continued to suck on your clit and, just as he did, an unfamiliar feeling raged through your body.

‘Holy fuck’ you moaned, not sure what was going on as the rough intrusion and onslaught of sensations had you seeing stars.

‘Yes oh god, yes fuck’ you screamed as your legs suddenly began to shake violently and you were coming against his hand and mouth, shouting his name desperately.

‘What the fuck was that?’ you huffed out, breathing heavily as the stars began to fade and he slowly withdrew his fingers from inside you.

‘What do you mean?’ Cillian asked somewhat confused and with a slight chuckle as you were still panting.

‘Like an orgasm, but more intense. I couldn’t control it’ you gasped and Cillian smiled in response.

‘I guess I found your g-spot’ Cillian said with a smug smile before crawling up on your body and kissing you passionately, making you taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

‘Since this is a one night thing, can you show me where it is for future reference?’ you giggled, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘I don’t think you’ll be able to reach it yourself I am afraid’ Cillian then said before taking another sip from his glass of wine, allowing you some time to recover before suggesting that you take this to the bedroom.

‘Common then’ you grinned eagerly, taking his hand and pulling him off the lounge and towards your bedroom.

‘Do you have condoms?’ he asked and, of course, since you didn’t plan this, you didn’t.

‘No, but I am on birth control and up to date with all of my check ups’ you said, looking at him as if you were seeking reassurance from him that it was the same for him.

‘Same. So, I guess we don’t worry about it?’ he asked and you shook your head, dragging him towards the bed.

From the bed, you watched him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. Then he pushed them down and it was your turn to stare. Which you definitely did, wide eyed as he stood naked before you.

‘I can’t wait to be inside of you Y/N’ Cillian said as your gaze grew hotter as it trailed down Cillian’s body and settled on his hard cock. He watched you watch him. An arrogant smile was tilting his gorgeous lips as he crawled onto the bed with you and kneeled over you.

Every inch of him was beautiful. Almost as you imagined, but better. Clearly, he knew it as well.

Whilst Cillian would usually take his time with this as well, he had an unexplainable urge to become one with you. He couldn’t explain it, but he needed to be inside of you, now.

‘Spread your legs’ he instructed in a low voice, one hand tugging at your knee until you complied.

With your legs spread wide, he positioned himself in between them, kissing you passionately again while you ran your hands through his hair.

For at least a minute, he teased your entrance with the head of his cock and you lifted your hips, wanting him to enter you.

‘I want you inside me, please’ you huffed out as you felt him against you, hot and hard.

‘Patience isn’t your strong point, is it?’ Cillian smirked as he leaned into you slightly, causing you to moan.

But you wanted all of him, and you told him as much.

‘Please’ you begged and just as you did, he pushed his length inside of you gently.

‘Fuck you are so tight Y/N’ he groaned, almost surprised as he bottomed out against your cervix. As soon as he entered you, he realised that he would have more trouble controlling himself than usual and perhaps it was because he had been fantasising about you like this, naked beneath him, for some time.

‘You feel so good Cillian’ you moaned at the same time, holding him close as he gave you some time to adjust to his size before he started to move with slow but deep thrusts.

You loved feeling the warmth of his flesh inside you and he loved the feel of your moist walls rubbing against his cock as he thrusted in and out of you.

In between moans, you shared several passionate kisses and it didn’t take you long to find a rhythm.

Your fingernails were digging into the flesh of his perfectly round ass, keeping him deeper and deeper inside you as he continued to fuck you until, suddenly, his movements came to a standstill and he repositioned himself so that he could lift your legs against his shoulders.

‘Uhm, what are you…’ you were going to ask but, just as the words left your mouth, he drove back into you and you let out a loud moan.

‘Holy shit’ you shouted out as you could feel the tip of his cock against your g-spot in this position and every time he thrusted into you, electricity shot through your body.

‘Are you going to cum for me?’ Cillian asked and you could barely nod when your legs began to quiver.

‘That’s a good girl’ Cillian groaned and, just as he did, you started to scream so loud that he had to over your mouth with one of his hands.

‘Fuck you look so sexy like this’ he groaned, watching you come so hard, even harder than before as his cock thrusted against your g-spot and his pubic bone was rubbing against your clit.

He loved seeing you loose control beneath him and, only when you stopped screaming in pleasure, he slowed down stroking before, carefully, slipping out of you and allowing you to drop your legs back onto the bed.

‘Jesus Cillian’ you huffed out, slowly catching your breath and he couldn’t help but grin.

‘Did you, uhm…?’ you wondered as you were in a trance but Cillian shook his head.

‘No, I am not ready to cum yet. I am enjoying this way too much’ he smirked and you were amazed by the amount of self-control he had. You wondered, whether, perhaps, this came with age and you’ve been missing out on being with an older man for years.

‘Well then Mr Murphy, how do you want to fuck me now?’ you grinned before pulling him in for a kiss and, when your lips drifted apart, he instructed you.

‘Turn around and put your arms onto the bed head’ he said and you complied with his request, thinking that you had unleashed the animal within him.

To your surprise, within seconds, Cillian scooted up behind you and lined himself up with your entrance again while nibbling on your ear and neck from behind. His kisses and bites were gentle and passionate and you realised soon that he got pleasure simply from pleasuring you.

‘Hmm that’s so nice’ you moaned as he kissed the back of your neck and his arms were tightening around you as he got impossibly harder.

You let your head fall back against his shoulder, exposing your throat and he wasted no time in lavishing it with attention, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin where your pulse was pounding.

‘I need to feel you Cillian’ you murmured through the waves of pleasure and sensations.

He didn’t answer you with words. Instead, you felt his hand slide between you as he lined himself up against you so that, if you moved at all, he’ll be inside you.

‘Do you just?’ he then teased as he gave you the little control he could afford to, and he waited like that for you to push backwards.

‘Go for it then’ Cillian smirked, thumbs brushing across your breasts, then your ribs and hips.

When you shifted them slightly, gasping at the intrusion despite how slick you were with wanting him, he groaned and tightened his grip.

‘You feel so fucking good’ he groaned as he bottomed out inside you eventually and the sound drove you into motion, moving together easily in an age old rhythm that just worked without effort with the way your bodies fitted together.

How he controlled himself like this was beyond you, but you enjoyed every moment of pleasure he was giving you.

Cillian’s hand found your hair, gripping it close to the scalp and tugging once. You let out a breathless cry and you could feel his chuckle vibrate against your back before he pulled you back onto all fours, breaking the contact in favour of a better view.

You heard Cillian suck in a breath, and when you peaked over your shoulder, he was watching himself slide into you, watching the way your ass moved with every thrust.

‘Jesus Y/N that’s so god damn sexy, you moving your ass like that’ he said in a guttural groan as he continued to thrust into you.

‘Take what you need Cillian’ you moaned, giving yourself to him and, when your careful pacing became frenzied and sloppy, Cillian reached down for your clit.

‘Oh god, oh god yes’ you groaned as you wanted to cum again so badly.

But you also wanted to feel him cum as, simply, the thought of him filling you with his cum drove you crazy. There was something about it, something naughty and forbidden.

‘Cum inside me Cillian. I want to feel you cum inside me’ you moaned and your words alone caused Cillian to gasp and groan all at the same time.

‘Fuck, say this again’ Cillian groaned as you were falling into infinity once more, this time with him close behind you.

‘I want your cum inside my pussy’ you blurted out, almost surprised by your own profanity and it was obvious to you that Cillian enjoyed some good dirty talk.

‘Y/N, fuck’ Cillian groaned again as he slammed his cock into you. Your legs were quivering once again as you came for a third time and your tight walls began to clench hard around his cock, milking him.

With one final thrust and a loud groan, Cillian finally stilled, pushing himself into you as far as he could get and, just as you felt the warmth of his cum flooding your insides, you moaned again.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned as you felt him throb and pulsate inside you, spilling his cum into you before taking in a sharp breath.

‘Jesus’ he then huffed out, still panting as, slowly and carefully, he pulled out of you, causing a large amount of his cum to spill from you and onto the sheets.

You could certainly feel it too and, when you collapsed onto the bed and turned around to face him, an almost elvish grin escaped you.

‘This was something else’ you panted from exhaustion as you could still feel his cum leaking from you, turning you on all over again. But there was no way you would be able to have sex again any time soon after this three-hour session with Cillian.

‘This was amazing. I don’t think I had sex as good in like a decade’ Cillian huffed out before collapsing next to you.

‘Oh common. I am sure you had plenty of women with way more experience than me’ you said teasingly since Cillian was really only the third man you had ever slept with.

‘Well, this was actually my first one-night stand in about 25 years as, just like you, I never usually trust anyone enough to go down this route’ Cillian chuckled before realising that this may just have made him sound old. ‘Want to go again?’ he then asked jokingly to brush over his admission and you shook your head.

‘Cillian, you fucked me for three hours straight. I never thought that this was even possible and I honestly don’t think I could take any more. In fact, I can tell that I will have sore muscles tomorrow’ you giggled before drawing Cillian close for a kiss.

‘You should have a warm bath then. It will make your muscles relax’ Cillian suggested and the sound of a warm bath did, indeed, sound very good.

‘Are you going to have one with me?’ you asked, causing Cillian to nod.

‘I don’t see why not’ he then said before jumping up and filling the bathtub with some hot water.

***

Minutes later Cillian and you sank into the hot bath water and you rested your head against his chest while his arms wrapped around you and began to soap up your breasts and stomach.

‘There…now you are relaxed’ Cillian whispered, realising that you were no longer covering up your scars.

‘Because you made me feel beautiful, sexy and desired’ you said shyly, causing Cillian to kiss you neck and nibble on your earlobe briefly.

‘That is because you are beautiful and sexy and I desired to be with you, probably for a bit longer than you realise’ Cillian admitted in a quiet whisper into your ear.

‘Oh, is that right? You wanted to do this for a while, did you?’ you teased and Cillian couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘Since the night I met you at Cian’s birthday party. But I felt fucking guilty about it and would never have acted upon my desire to have you, even just that once’ Cillian told you.

‘Because I am Cian’s sister? Frankly, I don’t think he would care much’ you said.

‘That and the fact that you are so much younger than me Y/N. I shouldn’t have wanted you’ Cillian explained.

‘Age is just a number Cillian. I don’t think it matters much when you are attracted to each other’ you said before tilting your head slightly and kissing him.

‘Do you regret it?’ you then asked after your lips drifted apart.

‘Sleeping with you?’ Cillian asked, causing you to nod. ‘No, do you?’ he then asked.

‘No. I truly believe that we needed to get this out of our system’ you confirmed, causing Cillian to laugh.

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spaceorphan18 · 3 years

Text

Head Over Feet (2/14)

After Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, they went their separate ways, living their separate lives in New York City. Fifteen years later, a retirement party brings them back together into each other’s orbit, with surprising, for both of them, consequences. Are they able to fit each other into their already complicated and messy lives? And are these newfound feelings real? Or just echoes of a past relationship?

Canon Divergent after Season 5.

Ao3 Link

A/N: Since the first chapter seemed to be such a huge hit - I'm dropping this today. This was all originally supposed to be the first chapter anyway! Going forward, I'm going to try to update once a month. Thanks for reading - and I hope you enjoy! :)

Thanks to @snarkyhag for the beta. :)

***

Chapter 2: Loser Like Me (Part Two)

Kurt Hummel loves sex. He loves the feeling of strong hands holding his body, rough lips against his skin, and a hard cock buried deep within him. And that morning he had woken up feeling particularly horny. He isn’t sure what exactly he had been dreaming about but his dick aches to be touched. And luckily he shares his bed with a very hot guy who doesn’t mind taking care of it for him.

He and Ian have been together a little over a year now, though this moving in together thing is new and still taking time to get used to. Sex, however, is not an adjustment they need to make. Ian doesn’t seem to mind Kurt waking him up with a hand on his cock, desperate to be fucked. Ian might be a little slow to wake, but not long after they start, Ian’s already pulling Kurt to a quick orgasm; Kurt spilling all over Ian’s fist as Ian pumps his hips into Kurt from behind.

The thing is, as much as Kurt loves sex, he’s not one to draw it out. Kurt finds himself holding steady onto the bed frame, staring at the wallpaper, as Ian takes his time fucking him. And the wallpaper is incredibly ugly. Seriously. He knows that Ian isn’t the one to have picked it out, but it’s a striped puke-green, burnt-orange, and tacky-gold, left over, most likely, from a renovation to the old building from the sixties. It’s a travesty that it’s remained on the wall so long, and if Ian would just fucking come already, he wouldn’t be forced to stare at it for so long.

Kurt fucks his hips back a little, hoping that Ian will pick up the pace. He leans back for a kiss (that wallpaper is seared forever in his head, god) and gives out a little moan. It’s a tiny bit performative, but it seems to do the trick, and Ian’s hips finally begin to snap, pushing him to his own orgasm.

“Fuck, Kurt, I could wake up this way every day for forever,” Ian says, sucking a kiss to his shoulder.

The word ‘forever’ echoes in Kurt’s brain uncomfortably. Kurt turns in Ian’s arms, quieting him with a kiss. “Happy to oblige.”

Ian goes in to deepen the kiss, but Kurt pulls away. Now that he’s feeling a bit satisfied, he wants nothing more than to take a shower and get ready for the day. He’s got about a thousand things to do, and he’s eager to get started. Ian tries to keep him close -- he’s always wanting to make out after sex -- but Kurt manages to slip out of Ian’s light grasp.

“Shower time,” Kurt says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Mmm, let me join you.”

The thought suddenly makes Kurt twitch but he tries not to show it. What is wrong with him? His incredibly handsome boyfriend, with his disheveled dark hair and playfully pleading light eyes wants to join him in the shower for a possible part two of morning sexy times. But having Ian shoved in next to him in their tiny shower stall makes him feel claustrophobic.

He pushes past his discomfort to allow Ian to join him. He even gives in to a little light making-out. But there’s no way sex is happening in that bathroom.

They do their morning routine together, bumping into each other in the tiny bathroom. The sink is covered in bottles and sprays, creams and soaps, razors and combs, and they have to reach over each other to grab what they need. Kurt is normally a very organized person, and when he moved in, he took the time to organize a side for each of them. But since then, Ian’s stuff has slowly migrated over to his side, and Ian’s slowly been using the products on Kurt’s side. And mostly, he’d be fine with the sharing if things would just keep their place. However, he doesn’t say anything, enjoying Ian’s good mood.

Ian suggests breakfast, wanting to go to the little bagel shop a few blocks down. He asks Kurt to walk with him but, just wanting a few minutes to check his emails alone, he declines. Ian throws a look of disappointment but heads out, stating he’ll bring Kurt something back. Kurt tries not to feel guilty about it, and reminds himself that there’s nothing wrong with wanting a few minutes to yourself. Besides, Ian’s still excited that they’re living together. He’ll calm down. Surely. Right?

Ian being gone gives Kurt a few minutes to pick up the apartment. There are clothes discarded in the living room, where they had been left after starting sex on the couch the night before. There’s an old pizza box sitting on the coffee table, a few mugs with half-drunk tea, and a scattering of papers. And underneath a pile of Ian’s sheet music is the mail from the previous week, most of which is Kurt’s. He clenches his jaw as he goes through it, annoyed that he’s just now seeing it.

There are a couple of old bills in here that need to be paid, as well as a bright red envelope that looks like an invitation sent from McKinley High. He looks over the invitation with curiosity, though something else quickly catches his eye. It’s a jewelry catalogue sent to Ian. Specifically, a men’s jewelry catalogue. And Ian doesn’t wear jewelry. Highly suspect of it, he looks it over, and a growing anxiety starts to spread. This could not possibly mean…

The door slams shut and Kurt jumps from his spot on the couch. It’s just Ian home from the bagel shop.

“I got your favorite, multigrain with that fancy whipped cream cheese that you like,” Ian says. He hands him the bag and gives him a kiss on the cheek before sitting down next to him.

“You didn’t give me my mail,” Kurt grumbles, taking the bag. Then adds a quiet, “thank you.”

Ian shrugs it off. “I figured you’d see it eventually. I’ve been wondering when you’d open that red envelope. I wanna know what it is.”

“Oh,” Kurt places the bag with his breakfast on the coffee table and picks up the envelope from his lap, opening it. He gives it a fond smile. “I guess my old choir director is retiring. There’s a party for him back in Lima.”

“Well, that’s cool,” Ian says, grabbing the invitation out of his hand. “Quaint. I’m guessing you aren’t going? I mean, other than mentioning your dad, I’ve never heard you talk about your time in Ohio. Hell, I’ve never even heard early New York stories. All I know is one day you walked into my piano bar, a full grown man, mysterious and sexy.” Ian wiggles his eyebrows. “Hard to imagine you in high school.”

“Well, I can assure you I was anything but sexy,” Kurt says. A flash of a memory crosses his brain - one of a performance in a warehouse, lots of boys in blazers, and a really uncomfortable situation for young Kurt. He shakes his head, ridding his mind of it.

“So, are you going to go?” Ian asks, far more interested in the idea than Kurt is.

Kurt scrunches his nose at the thought. He hasn’t stepped foot in Ohio for a better part of a decade. There aren’t even people from high school he still talks to, not on a regular basis anyway. It’s sweet of Will Schuester’s family to think of him, but maybe he’s better off sending a card or something.

“I don’t know,” Kurt says, he stares at the invitation, unsure of how he feels about it. “I don’t know.”

***

Wednesdays mean that Ian is home all day. He is a classical pianist by trade and his day job is playing with one of New York’s symphony orchestras. In the evenings, he usually plays gigs at local bars. But on Wednesday, he has time off from both jobs to be home all day. Wednesday used to be the day where Kurt spent all his time with Ian. Now that they live together, Kurt usually spends his Wednesday anywhere but home.

It usually lands him at his own job, running a small theater that he co-owns with his old friend, Elliott Gilbert. Technically, Elliott’s rich grandmother’s money bought the theater, and Kurt had been brought on to manage the projects and productions that happened there. It’s still quite a work in progress, as the building had been nearly condemned when they originally bought it a few years earlier. But with all their hard work, they’re beginning to draw in better productions, and this might be the first year they actually draw a profit.

When he gets in that afternoon, he finds Elliott up in the rafters, working on some of the lights. Kurt watches for a moment as Elliott finishes whatever he’s working on. It’s hard to say, but he has the toolbox with him, so Kurt can only guess it has to do with the lights nearly coming down the other night. They really need to get an electrician in, but Elliott’s pretty handy about these things, and will at least try to do what he can before they have to ask for help.

Kurt watches a good few minutes as Elliott finishes up and comes down the ladder.

“You’re being quiet,” Elliott says, carefully bringing down the toolbox as he reaches the bottom of the ladder. Kurt, hands in pockets, just gives a gentle shrug. “You’re not usually quiet, which means it can only be one of a few things. Something’s up with your dad. You want a favor. Or it’s boyfriend problems.”

“Well, my dad is fine, and I don’t need anything,” Kurt says. “So….”

Elliott lets out a heavy sigh, and places the toolbox on the ground. “It wouldn’t kill you to go to therapy, you know.”

“You’re not my therapist?”

“Alright, so this session is going to cost you three-hundred dollars,” Elliott looks at his watch. “You have twenty minutes. Go.”

Kurt lets out a laugh as he follows Elliott to the edge of the stage. Elliott jumps off but Kurt lowers himself to sit on the edge, his legs hanging off. Elliott makes a shrug for Kurt to get on with it.

“So, I was going through some mail, and I found this jewelry catalogue. It had a lot of men’s engagement rings,” Kurt says. Elliott makes a face as if to say ‘and…?’ Kurt purses his lips. “I think Ian might ask me to marry him.”

“Have you guys even talked about marriage?”

“Definitely not.”

Elliott doesn’t seem at all convinced. “Maybe it was just an ad then. I get shit like that all the time. I somehow managed to be subscribed to a women’s lingerie catalogue for years.”

Kurt still can’t rid himself of the low-level anxiety he’s been feeling about it all day. “Even so, I just… don’t like the idea.”

“I thought you and Ian were doing great?”

“We are, we are,” Kurt says. Elliott, again, doesn’t seem convinced. “Ian’s in the honeymoon stage of wanting to do everything together, and I don’t know. We’ve been together for a year. We know how we are. Do we really need to do everything together now that we live together?”

Elliott folds his arms across his chest. “Kurt, if this is becoming an issue, why did you agree to move in with him in the first place?”

Kurt stares up at the ceilings. The old, red curtains have a few fringes and tears, and Kurt wonders vaguely, if they should get new ones or if anyone would really notice. He kicks the stage lightly as he avoids Elliott’s question. “I mean, my apartment lease was up, and they were going to double my rent.”

“Oh, god,” Elliott chokes out. “Please tell me that wasn’t the only reason.”

“It’s not,” his voice squeaks a little too much on the words. “I also, you know, love him.”

Elliott shakes his head. Kurt knows judgment when he sees it. “This is just classic Kurt,” he says.

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with having an adjustment period with having to live with someone after I’ve had my own place for so long,” Kurt says, defending himself.

“Uh-huh.”

“I just like my independence.”

Elliott’s eyebrow is arched high. “Or you like sabotaging your relationships.”

Kurt scoffs, looking off to the side of the stage. They’re going to need to scrub this whole place down before allowing anyone to do a production here again. Elliott, however, is not letting him off the hook, and eyes him hard. “I do not do that.”

“Then why have I seen you more in the past couple of weeks than you’ve probably seen him?”

It’s a fair question, Kurt admits to himself. “Well, I do find you tolerable.”

“Kurt, you don’t find any of your boyfriends tolerable,” Elliott says. He almost sounds annoyed, but he knows Elliott’s limits and he knows he hasn’t reached them. But truth be told, he’s as sick of himself as Elliott probably is. “Who was that guy before Ian? That Matt guy? Why did you break up with him?”

He picked the scab, of course Elliott is going to rip open the old wounds. “Because he wanted me to be ‘a part of the family’,” Kurt replies, using air quotes to highlight his point. Matt had been a sweet guy, but his family had been his life. He hadn’t been ready to be a part of any family, let alone one that had been as close as Matt’s had been. He felt as if he had been suffocating every time they went to visit. “His family was crazy. I didn’t need to be a part of that.”

Elliott nods, continuing on. “Okay, and Joey was the one before that. I remember him because he helped clean up this place when we bought it.”

Kurt bites his lip. He did feel bad about that. Joey had been so quick to offer his time. But Joey also had been there. All the time. It had been too much. “He was super clingy,” Kurt says quietly, though he hates that he’s seeing the trend.

“Sure he was,” Elliott says. A grin slips onto his lips. “And then there was Steven.”

“He wanted to marry me six months into the relationship,” Kurt says. He snaps a little too loud, his voice echoing in the empty theater. Elliott remains amused, even if Kurt is not. “Who knows they want to get married six months into a relationship? Why are you getting on my case about this? It’s not like you don’t go through, like, three guys a week.”

Elliott throws his head back in a laugh. “Well, I am at peace with my slutty ways. Look, Kurt, it’s not about the number of guys you go through. It’s just that, well, honestly, I’ve known you forever. And I know you’re this old school romantic and the slutty ways will never be satisfying for you. Did it ever occur to you that the reason it doesn’t work out with these guys is not because you’re this progressive independent, but because deep down you want to be an old school married, and haven’t found the right person to be with yet?”

The gnawing pit in his stomach starts to fade as he thinks about the old fantasy -- the one he had as a kid, where you met your prince, and you lived happily ever after. Only, real life doesn’t happen like that. Most guys are not princes, and the ones who are don’t always lead to happily ever after. He knows better than to be unrealistic, but maybe he’s pushing people too far away.

“Do you think I’ve made a mistake?” Kurt asks, he begins bouncing his foot against the stage again.

Elliott goes soft in deposition. “You know I can’t answer that for you.”

“You’re probably right,” Kurt says. He thinks of Ian - of his kind smile and good heart. He shouldn’t be running, even if every ounce of him feels like it’s too much. “Ian is a good guy, and I’ve been…”

“Difficult?”

“I was going to say myself, but thank you.”

“I do my best.” Elliott playfully taps his knee. “If you want, though, you can crash at my place for a few days. I’m gonna be out of town. Some third cousin is getting married, and Mom insists that everyone be there.”

“No, I’m good,” Kurt insists. And then an idea hits him. “You know, I got an invitation to go back to Lima. Old high school choir thing. Maybe I’ll take a long vacation and do that. It could give me some time to clear my head -- reflect on my questionable life choices.”

Elliott gives a hearty laugh. “You haven’t talked about Lima in years. Besides, going back to Lima might force you to dig into your past, and we all know how much you enjoy doing that.”

Kurt swats at Elliott. “It’ll be fine. What’s the worst that can happen?”

***

After work, Kurt doesn’t go home right away. Instead, he opts to walk around the city for a while. There’s a slight chill, causing him to bundle his jacket a little tighter, and the sky is overcast, threatening a storm rolling in. He won’t be out too late, but he knows Ian is back home waiting for him and he’s just not ready for it yet.

His conversation with Elliott plays over in his head. He does like his independence. He always has. Even when he had been a little boy, his parents had let him play on his own. And after years of rejection from kids his own age, he learned that sometimes being on your own is your best bet. It’s not that he doesn’t like the company his boyfriends have brought him over the years. He just likes his space. And his peace and quiet. And his room to move about as he pleases. And sometimes boyfriends make him feel too tied down.

But he can’t help but think about what Elliott had said. The thing that seems to stick in his brain, wiggling to the forefront of his thoughts. Maybe he wants to be an old married? Maybe he does want that connection, that one person who seems to know him, who understands him enough that there will be days when they’re inseparable, and days when they’re apart. He likes the idea of coming home to the same face every day to see someone who can read him like a book, who will enjoy the same things as him, who will love him for the insufferable human being he always seems to be.

But are there really people out there like that?

Maybe he’s not giving Ian enough credit. When they had decided to move in together, Kurt thought it had been the most optimal choice. Living costs would come down. He’d have a partner to spend his time with. And the sex. God, Ian knows how to have sex.

But permanently? The buzz of anxiety begins to grow at the thought. There are too many little things about Ian, too many things about himself that just don’t feel right. It’s not perfect. Well -- it’s never going to be perfect, he argues with himself. But still…

The storm breaks sooner than Kurt expects, a sudden heavy rain coming down. Kurt stands on the street corner, looking up at the sky as he gets drenched. Maybe the universe is trying to tell him something, and he can’t help but laugh as the rain splashes his face.

Just as he’s about to head home, however, he catches a sign on the corner of a building. A sign advertising an open leasing on a loft, with a number attached. For a moment, he’s transferred back in time to all those years ago, when he lived in a loft in Bushwick with four other people all of whom had been trying to make it in the city. He hasn’t thought about that loft in ages. Hasn’t thought about those people in ages. God, what even happened to…

He tries hard not to think of the name that first pops in his head. But he can’t help but see the face. He shakes his head, as if attempting to get rid of the image.

Nostalgia hits him just then.

Nostalgia for a place he left long ago, for people whom he never thought he’d miss. He is going to take that trip to Lima. He does need a break from Ian. He does need to get his life sorted out. But mostly, he feels a soft ache for returning home -- even if he’s not sure where that is anymore.

***

A week later, Kurt finds himself rolling up to one of Lima’s three motels in a car he rented at the airport. It’s strange coming back to the city he grew up in and, yet, not returning back to his childhood home. He had thought about driving past, but he hadn’t necessarily wanted to see through the window to see whatever happy suburban family had bought the place. Instead, he had driven straight to the motel that he had booked himself the moment he knew he would be coming back.

There is something surreal about returning to the place you grew up after so much time has passed. It’s like time has frozen, remaining exactly the same as the moment you left, even if there are new storefronts in the old buildings, expansions where wooded areas used to be, and a real attempt, it seems, to clean the place up. It feels unchanged, and Kurt can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. It’s just a thing.

It’s evening by the time he gets in. The motel room is bland and tiny, and the four channels on the TV don’t offer much entertainment. He lays down on the bed to stare at the ceiling, thinking if there’s anything he could do. Most places in Lima shut down before eight, even on a Friday night. And it’s not like he has anyone to call. He had been texting Mercedes Jones earlier in the week, shocked that her number had still been the same, but she had explained that she wouldn’t be getting in until very late and implied that whatever plans she had wouldn’t be with him. He had understood, and it’s not like he won’t be seeing her the next day anyway. Scrolling through his phone, he finds that he doesn’t have a single other contact from high school he could call.

Maybe he should just text Ian -- but as his thumb hovers over his boyfriend’s name, he remembers that Ian is probably playing a concert that weekend. And even if he waits until later when Ian’s home, he just doesn’t want to ruin Ian’s good time by explaining that he can’t quite quash the crushing sense of loneliness that seems to be his homecoming.

Why did he think this would be a good idea?

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a neon flashing light, and through the window he sees a building that he hasn’t thought about in years. Thinking anywhere is better than being stuck in that sad motel room for the next twelve hours, Kurt heads out into the night.

***

Scandals is, if nothing else, exactly how he remembers it. Not that his memories are anything more than fuzzy blips of moments from long ago. He remembers the same posters being on the wall, in the same tattered state. He remembers the huge, neon signs lining the walls. And god, the music even feels strikingly similar. There aren’t, he thinks with a laugh, any drag queens though.

The atmosphere is quiet for a Friday night. There are a few guys out on the dance floor, enjoying each other’s company, but most of the people in the bar are huddled in the darkened corners. No one looks up from their conversations to notice him come in. The bouncer is too busy flirting with a denim dressed, bearded guy leaning against the wall to notice him slip by.

He’s not a few steps in when he realizes coming out to a bar seems like a silly thing to do, but makes a deal with himself to have one drink before he heads back to the motel and to do the sensible thing in calling Ian.

But as he heads to the bar, he sees something that makes him freeze in his tracks.

Is that…?

It can’t possibly be…?

Blaine Anderson is sitting at the bar, casually chatting with the bartender as he sips a beer. Kurt is stunned to see him, his mind reeling at how this is even possible. There is only one gay bar in Lima. And he’s probably here for the reunion.

But still… Blaine Anderson, of all people.

There’s a tiny part of him that wants to run. Turn on his heel and walk right back out of that bar and not even worry about the formal meeting they’ll inevitably have tomorrow at the reunion. He doesn’t though.

He watches Blaine for a moment, in his element, throwing his head back to laugh at something the bartender said. It’s astounding to Kurt at how much and how little Blaine has changed. Age, it seems, has done him well. There’s less gel in his hair, allowing the natural curls to reveal themselves. His face is harder, jawbone more defined. He’s wearing a dark sweater vest, but no bowtie, and the shirt underneath is unbutton, revealing a wisp of hair on his chest. Blaine is no longer that young boy he once knew. Sitting at the bar is a man.

And yet… his movements are exactly the same. The way he crinkles his eyes when he laughs, the way he lightly touches the bartender’s arm while expressing his point, the way casually plays with the napkin on the counter. That’s still the Blaine he used to know.

Kurt takes a deep breath, releasing the tension running through him. He could leave… but he doesn’t really want to. It’s been a decade since they’ve seen each other. That’s enough time to let old wounds heal, right?

Kurt takes the plunge.

“I’m guessing this place rarely sees a man as gorgeous as you. Mind if I buy you a drink?”

Blaine turns around, utterly shocked to see him there. Kurt’s confidence slips as the silence lingers. Maybe this had been a bad idea. But then, Blaine breaks out into a grin.

“Kurt?” He says his name slowly, as if it’s unfamiliar in a way, but easily slides off his stool, going in for a hug. It’s awkward -- where do you put your hands and arms? How close do you stand? How do you properly greet someone you once agreed to share your life with? Someone who is a relative stranger now. It’s bizarre to him that somehow, Blaine still feels so familiar in his arms. “Please, join me.” Blaine offers the stool next to him as they slip apart. “I’ll definitely take you up on that drink.”

Kurt sits down, suddenly feeling much more nervous than he had been. Blaine waives down the bartender -- asking for beer, while Kurt shortly asks for an amaretto sour. He definitely needs something to calm him down. How is Blaine being so calm? Is he hiding it better? Or is it that he’s soon to be on his third beer?

“So, what are you doing here?” Blaine asks, placing his head on his hand, now looking amused. There’s no anger there. No resentment, or negativity. Blaine genuinely seems to be happy to see him. Based on how they had left things all that time ago, Blaine could have harbored some ill will towards him. But they are both adults now. And it had been a long, long time ago.

“I’m in town for Mr. Schue’s retirement party,” Kurt says. He rubs his legs, not sure what to do with his hands.

Blaine nods, finishing off the beer he had been drinking when Kurt had arrived. “Oh, yeah, I figured that. I meant, what are you doing here ?” He uses both hands to point down.

“Oh!” Kurt feels a little silly not understanding. Thankfully, the bartender brings them their drinks. Kurt wastes no time gulping half of it down as if it were a shot. “I saw it from the motel window. Call me crazy, but I was feeling nostalgic.”

“Huh,” Blaine takes a long sip from his bottle, narrowing his eyes as he thinks it over. “You’re not staying with Burt?”

“Oh, god, right you wouldn’t know,” Kurt laughs as he stirs his drink. “Dad retired a few years ago. He and Carole moved to Arizona to be closer to her sister.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

“I guess I could have stayed with Uncle Andy,” Kurt continues, remaining fixated on his drink as he talks. “He and his sons took over the tire shop. But we’re not exactly close. And he has, like, ten dogs. I’d rather take my chances with the motel.”

Blaine nods, sympathetically.

“What about you?” Kurt asks. “How’s your family?”

“They’re pretty good,” Blaine says, easily. “Cooper has three little girls. Here, let me show you.” Blaine wastes no time fishing out his phone, scrolling through the roll for a picture of three gorgeous young girls who all, clearly, take after Cooper. Kurt coos accordingly but he can’t help but notice Blaine’s left hand, and the indentation of skin where a ring used to be. It makes him wonder.

“So, what are you doing now?” Kurt asks, trying to relax on his stool. He rests his elbow on the wooden bar, and his head on his hand.

“I teach, actually. New York Institute of Fine Arts,” Blaine says, taking another sip of his beer with a laugh. “I mean, I still perform every now and then. But an adjunct professor was needed, and a friend of mine pulled some strings, and I just kind of fell into it. I love it though.” There’s no lie in Blaine’s voice. Blaine had always been a passionate person, but it’s clear by his demeanor that he loves his job.

Kurt smiles meekly, happy for him. “A private school, of course. How very you. Actually, now that I think of it, that’s not far from my theater.”

“You have a theater?” Blaine’s eyes grow wide with interest.

“Well, half a theater,” Kurt rocks his head from side to side, as if it’s a silly little thing, and not the pride and joy that he’s sunk most of his adult life into, now. He plays with the nearby peanut bowl. “The Gilbert Theater.”

“Oh, I know that place,” Blaine says. There’s excitement in his voice. Kurt isn’t sure why this makes him happy. “I thought it had been condemned. I mean - I’m sure you’ve fixed it up.”

“Oh we have,” Kurt says, thinking about all the work he’s put into it over the years. “Elliott and I renovated it. You wouldn’t even recognize it now.”

Blaine takes another slow slip of his drink. “Elliott? Like from college?” Kurt nods slowly. “Ah. So are you guys…”

“Oh, no,” Kurt quickly corrects. “God, no. Business partners only.” It’s such a funny thought to him. Elliott. They’re like brothers. No, he’s definitely not romantically linked with Elliott. There is someone else… but he quickly pushes Ian out of his brain. He doesn’t want to think about him. “So this is crazy, right? That we both ended up in the same sleazy place? Maybe the universe was trying to push us together again.”

Blaine gives an uncomfortable laugh. “Well, there is only one gay bar in Lima, but I suppose…”

An awkward silence grows between them. Blaine bops his head to the music. Kurt munches on some peanuts. They both avoid direct eye contact. The uneasiness that Kurt had felt when he first walked in begins to return. Maybe he should go.

The bartender breaks the silence, asking Blaine if he’d like another drink. There’s an ease there that Kurt picks up on. Blaine knows the guy -- like really knows the guy. Kurt shifts from side to side not sure what to say or do. He eyes the door, he can still slip out if he needs to.

“Man, I cannot believe how little this place has changed since I used to come here,” Blaine says, taking a look around.

“You mean when we were in high school?” Kurt asks. He’d hardly say coming the three times that they did a lot.

“No, it was actually after…” he trails off but Kurt picks up on what he’s saying. After they broke up. After he broke Blaine’s heart. Blaine kind of skips past the beat. Why dredge up all that old stuff. That’s what the reunion is for, right? Something turns in the pit of Kurt’s stomach. “When I moved back to Lima, I used to come here a lot. Thought maybe throwing myself into this place might make me feel better. Not so alone, you know?”

“Did it help?” Kurt’s voice is small.

“Maybe,” Blaine says with another laugh. “I don’t know, it was so long ago. You know it…” he pauses, thinking it over. “Alright, if I tell you something - do you promise not to run screaming?”

Kurt’s intrigued. “Of course.”

Blaine stares intently at his bottle. “After you and I ended things -- I came back to Lima. And I sorta, kinda dated Dave Karofsky for a while.”

Of all the things that Blaine could have said -- that is the last thing Kurt expects to hear. It makes Kurt chuckle into his drink. He can’t even picture it, it’s such a wild thought. “Wait, seriously?”

“Shocking, right?”

“A little. More so that you were into a bear.”

The tension breaks as they let go into easy laughter. The conversation becomes lighter as they begin to discuss old things. They talk about Dave Karofsky, and how someone who had once been Kurt’s ghost had turned into a friend whom Kurt sees every few years for lunch. Blaine mentions he had attended Dave’s wedding. Kurt mentions he had lunch with Dave and his husband last year. It’s strange how things can change so much in twenty years.

They talk about Dalton -- though not about that staircase. The staircase that will forever be burned in his memory for better or worse. Instead, they talk about Sebastian Smythe with fondness, though neither could say where he ended up. And about the one time Blaine sang at the Gap to impress a guy whose name neither can remember.

And for a moment, unprovoked, Blaine mentions his husband. It’s a startling jolt into reality, but Blaine doesn’t give him any more than a name and a passing story about having to explain to his husband why he refuses to shop at The Gap. It’s not like Kurt hadn’t heard Blaine had gotten married. He doesn't remember who had told him or when or even how he had felt about it. Blaine had wanted to be married. He got his wish. And Kurt is happy for him. He wants to be happy for him. Still, that missing ring…

As they reminisce, the bartender brings them more drinks. The room begins to feel warm and familiar. Kurt isn’t sure if it’s alcohol or Blaine that is making him feel so comfortable so far from home. They talk about high school and old friends, people whom they’ve lost touch with and people they’re looking forward to seeing tomorrow. Kurt learns that Blaine developed a surprisingly deep friendship with Santana Lopez. Blaine learns that Kurt hasn’t talked to Rachel Berry since college.

“I just couldn’t after that show,” Kurt explains. They’re both giggly from drinking too much - Kurt having to hold his hands up when the bartender offers him a third. “I mean - not that she even tried to keep in touch with me. But my god did you watch that thing? It was terrible! She was fine - she was always fine. But who decided that would be what America wanted to see for a decade?”

Blaine snickers into his drink. “Well, personally I was offended. ‘Slaine’,” he uses both hands to make air quotes around the character’s names, “was written out after year two. I was like ‘fuck that’. It’s just as well. Had he stayed on, I might have had to sue their asses for defamation of character.”

“You are not wrong,” Kurt says, unable to stop laughing as he thinks about it. He puts a hand on Blaine’s shoulder to balance himself so as to not fall off his stool.

Blaine notices and smirks. “How drunk are you right now?”

“Less drunk than you are,” Kurt smiles into his glass. He is buzzed but not at all drunk. In fact, he feels good and relaxed and happy. When had he last been this happy? “Anyway… All I know is that a terrible writer wrote ‘Cert’ as the sassy yet sexless gay best friend. And he stayed on the show. The. Entire. Run. If anyone has the right to sue, it’s going to be me.”

“Well, for what it’s worth. I don’t think Cert was anything like you,” Blaine says. He leans in close. Kurt can smell the sweet scent of raspberries. “Personally, I thought you were always sexy.”

Something in the atmosphere shifts. Suddenly, Blaine is close. Close enough that he can see the depths of Blaine’s golden eyes. There’s something there that Kurt hasn’t seen in a long time, and it causes him to break.

He’s not sure what it is that makes him say it. He’s not sure if it’s the heaviness of guilt, or the friendliness of Blaine’s demeanor, or the fact that all of this nostalgia is causing him to reflect on his life’s choices - but he can’t help but let the words stumble out. “Blaine, I’m so sorry.”

Blaine looks at him, genuinely confused. “For what?

“For a lot of things, I feel like I owe you an apology for so many things,” Kurt rambles on. “I was not in a good place and you… I shouldn’t have ended it. I mean I shouldn’t have ended it the way that I did. I shouldn’t have hurt you like that. And I’m sorry that I did.”

Blaine takes a moment to think it over, as if he’s processing everything Kurt’s saying. “Kurt…” he lets out a sigh. “You weren’t the only one who was a mess back then. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. We had a good thing. We had a great thing, even. But it’s fine. It’s all in the past, and I’m fine.”

Kurt feels a bit of relief wash over him. Maybe this is why he needed to come back. Maybe he had just needed to bury his demons. He feels lighter than he has in, well, a while. He reaches out for Blaine’s hand and squeezes it. It feels comforting in his own.

“Look at us now, all grown up,” Kurt says, a smile sliding across his face. “I mean, you’re married and I’m…”

“Kurt?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s an open marriage.”

Blaine places his free hand just above Kurt’s knee and squeezes, ever so lightly, he holds it there, stroking his thumb along the side of his thigh. It’s an invitation. His cock gets there first, as he watches Blaine’s hand, firm and strong. His brain becomes fuzzy, but all he can fixate on is the urge to have Blaine’s hand travel up. This is closure, right?

“Come with me,” Kurt makes the quick decision not to second guess this. He grabs onto Blaine’s hand with purpose, sliding off the stool and taking Blaine with him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Blaine smirk as he throws out a few bills on the counter to pay for the drinks.

***

They’re in the bathroom stall, where Kurt vaguely remembers making out once back at the end of his senior year. They never would have done anything as daring as have sex in a public place, but just kissing, even in a place that accepted it, felt naughty and fun back then.

Now, he couldn’t care less that there are people who might know what they’re doing. His desire is too strong, his brain clouded in a haze of need to taste Blaine again; the wonder of if it will feel so good after so long. The room is broken up into stalls, dimly lit, and smells as if they are the next in a long line of gay men who will use this place to relieve themselves in more ways than one. Kurt pulls Blaine back to the farthest stall, ignoring that there’s another couple occupying another stall, the panting sounds of their fucking echoing in the room. It only turns him on more.

Once the stall door is locked, Blaine looks at Kurt, his large, dark eyes more sure than Kurt is about this. It almost throws him off kilter but Kurt looks to Blaine’s mouth, and suddenly he remembers all the things that can be done with it. His resolve broken, Kurt lunges for a kiss.

Blaine kisses back with force, pushing Kurt back into the wall. Kurt doesn’t even care that the metal bar for handicap use is pressing against the back of his thighs. He just wants to feel Blaine. They kiss deeply, wantonly. His sense memory returns and suddenly he feels like a teenager again, hungry for Blaine back when he had been first discovering what sex is. Kurt moans into the kiss that encourages Blaine to slide his tongue against Kurt’s.

They’re all hands and mouths, wrapping themselves around each other as they make-out. Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s neck, combing his fingers through Blaine’s curls as he pulls Blaine closer to him, enough so that their bodies are sliding against each other. Blaine brings his hands down to Kurt’s ass and squeezes with both hands. Fuck. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gotten so hard so fast.

They begin to rock against each other as they kiss. Kurt can feel Blaine’s hard cock pushing up against his own. If they keep going at this speed, he is not going to last long, and dammit, he refuses to come in his pants.

Kurt breaks the kiss, only for Blaine to start kissing along his jaw and down his neck, Blaine’s touch is electric, and Kurt can’t help but feel dizzy with pleasure. He loses himself in Blaine’s embrace, soaking up the feeling as much as he can. It’s been fifteen years since they’ve fucked - how can this possibly feel so good?

Blaine works his way back up to Kurt’s mouth, though this time, Kurt is able to slow it down. Kurt busies his hands with the buttons on Blaine’s pants. Blaine takes a slight step back, allowing for Kurt to pull him out. Kurt takes a quick second to look down at Blaine’s cock; his thick and delicious cock. If only they weren’t in a bathroom stall right now, Kurt would take his time devouring that cock. Instead, he takes to stroking it, becoming satisfied with the low moans and grunts that are eliciting Blaine’s mouth.

Blaine steadies himself against the wall, as he begins to pump his hips in time with Kurt’s strokes, fucking himself into Kurt’s hand. “Let me,” Kurt says, in a low whisper, biting gently at Blaine’s lips before they fall into a sloppy kiss. Blaine is close - he knows Blaine is close, he can feel it as Blaine arches further into his hand. Kurt speeds up his hand, deliberate in his strokes. It’s a little rough, but Blaine becomes more and more undone, uttering little obscenities as he closes eyes and allows himself the pleasure. Blaine comes, jolting into Kurt’s hand, and lets out a moan that Kurt covers with a kiss.

“Give me a second,” Blaine says, breathlessly, holding firmly against the wall as he comes down.

Kurt smirks, licking the come off his fingers. His own cock is throbbing with need but there’s something incredibly satisfying seeing Blaine loose and fucked out.

Blaine takes a second to put himself back in his pants and then goes down on his knees. This isn’t at all what Kurt had been expecting, and his eyes go wide as Blaine sucks a kiss over Kurt’s clothed cock.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Kurt says, feeling a little guilty. Blaine’s legs are sticking out of the stall door and anyone could interrupt them.

“Shut up and let me blow you, Kurt,” Blaine says, a wicked grin on his face as he unzips Kurt’s zipper. Kurt’s cock bobs free, and like a man allowed to drink water after years in the desert, Blaine sucks Kurt all the way down in one go.

“Jesus, fuck Blaine.” He really doesn’t care if there’s anyone else in there who can hear them. Blaine had always been good at blow jobs; always so eager to give them, and Kurt’s glad to know that Blaine’s enthusiasm hasn’t changed. Blaine sucks him down, greedily, and he loses himself in the sensation of Blaine’s velvety mouth on him.

“I’m curious about something,” Blaine says, pulling off. Kurt can’t imagine what, but he doesn’t have to wait long to find out. Blaine begins to stroke him, slowly, drawing it out. Then sucks a kiss to the tip of Kurt’s cock, using his tongue to swirl and tease it, before he sucks him down once more. Kurt lets out a heavy groan as his knees nearly buckle. “Huh. So that really still does things for you?”

Kurt can’t help but give a little laugh. “Shut up and finish me off, Blaine,” Kurt manages the tease despite him now being desperate to come.

Amused, Blaine obliges, sucking Kurt into his mouth again. Kurt closes his eyes, taking it all in as he lets Blaine take him over the edge. He spills into Blaine’s mouth, Blaine being able to swallow with ease -- something, he notes, Blaine hadn’t been able to do before. As Blaine pulls off, he licks his lips, and remains on his knees for a long moment.

The atmosphere then shifts suddenly. Blaine looks down for a long while, and Kurt can’t tell what Blaine’s feeling -- Guilt? Sadness? Regret?

“Thank you for that,” Blaine says, his sincerity layered with something that feels like finality. Blaine gives Kurt’s hip a kiss before helping put Kurt back into his jeans. There’s something strangely intimate about it, and despite the fact that Kurt is feeling blissed out from his orgasm it’s now tinged with a heavier, unknown feeling. Blaine gets to his feet. There’s a lot going on behind his eyes that Kurt can’t read, but Blaine says nothing, only gives Kurt a soft kiss on the lips. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Blaine leaves the stall but Kurt stays, unsure what to make of everything that happened. A lot just happened. A lot. And as the buzz of sex begins to wear off, a sickening gnawing grows in his stomach. He just had sex with his ex-fiancé whom he hasn’t seen in years. He just cheated on his boyfriend. But what makes Kurt feel the worst, as he slides down the wall to sit on the sticky floor because his legs can no longer hold him, is the realization that for Blaine - that might have been his way of saying goodbye.

#s.o. writes things #head over feet #klaine #klaine fic

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cianmars · 3 years

Text

They were roommates... (A Lokius Fic)

So I made this a lil while ago, it gets updated every few days

Loki has to stay somewhere in the TVA and if he was working for them then its a little mean to leave him in a cell... or at least that was Mobius' argument, so he took one for the team and has Loki move in with him... A purely selfless act....

AKA Loki learns to be a good person, an okay roomie, and a not so good at being a menace to society (unless society bugs him)

AO3

Loki hadn’t recovered from seeing the projection of his mother being murdered in front of his eyes, because of him, for very obvious reasons…. But he had started to come to terms with it, with everything.

That of course didn’t mean that he wasn’t looking for a way, any way, out; but it did mean that he had agreed to work with the TVA, well not with them, but with Mobius, even if the man (was he a man? Man was just short for human, was he human?) was infuriating, in every Gods damned way.

A whistle and a tilt of the agent’s head was what woke Loki from where he was dozing at the same table he had been sitting at since he had brought in, some unspecified time ago, Loki had opened his mouth to tell him that Gods did not appreciated being whistled at like a dog but Mobius was already off, walking out of the room.

Gods did not chase after anyone, let alone men who were holding him prisoner, Gods did not chase…

“Gods don’t chase,” he told the man, practically bouncing as he caught up to the fast walking man (seriously how did he walk so fast?), his head following everyone who passed them as they walked by, and trying to see what propaganda they had tacked to their modern walls.

“And yet, here you are,” Mobius replied in that calm yet amused tone he always used for Loki.

Loki glared, but Mobius wasn’t looking at him so he rushed past him, turning back to face the man walking backwards without breaking pace, trying to focus on him not on everything they were passing, he hadn’t been this way before, had they? A hundred questions bounced around his mind, most of them were ‘why the fuck is a talking duck being led by four armed guards?’ and ‘can I go talk to the duck?’.

A hand on his upper arm stopped all the thoughts in his head and he had to stop himself from coming to a full stop, or tripping, that would be embarrassing.

“Careful, Loki, you’re gonna bump into someone,” Mobius slowed his pace as he pulled Loki to walk at his side, “You can keep bouncing around like Tigger from beside me.”

Loki was not blushing; not at how flustered the touch made him, not at the mixed soft and amused tone which Loki swore was just for him (he wasn’t possessive he was just right), not from the chastisement, no he was not blushing, the TVA clearly just had a heating issue which seemed to be largely affecting just his cheeks, they couldn’t even heat a building correctly. Typical.

Loki cleared his throat, unrelated to his blushing, “Casey doesn’t know what a fish is but you know what that hyperactive big cat is?”

“Like I said Loki, you’re a pussycat.”

“Remind me to introduce you to a real hungry tiger one time,” Loki muttered, cheeks still pink, he kept an eye onto the admittedly comfortable slip on canvas shoes as they slapped against the floor.

“What was that, darling?”

This bastard was doing this on purpose, he had to be… unless he wasn’t, then he’d have to explain why in general people who were practically strangers didn’t call each other ‘darling’, but that did come with the increased risk of him either never calling him it again… or calling him it again, and they’d both know it was on purpose. He’s a bastard. Loki plastered a cheery smile onto his face, looking up at Mobius with a look of innocence they both knew was fake, “Nothing!” his smile turned genuine hearing Mobius laugh.

They were in a golden doored elevator when Loki found his voice again, “Where are we going?”

“I seem to remember some God of comedy telling me that he didn’t talk much…”

“It’s the god of mischief, or tricks, not comedy,” Loki cut in, narrowing his eyes when he saw a barely concealed smirk on his face, “But of course, you knew that as you know ‘everything’ about me. Where are we going?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“How can I tell you if I don't know?”

“You’re pretty,” Mobius leant forward past Loki and pressed his hand to the black screen on the elevator pad, pausing his speech for a second too long as he did so, “smart, why don’t you try to figure it out?”

Loki was frozen as Mobius’s arm brushed against his own as he leant back and stood beside Loki, he could smell the sandalwood from his aftershave as he moved. “You’ve found The Variant, the less amazing, less talented version of me?”

“The Variant is pretty talented too, Loki.”

“Not as talented as me,” Loki pouted, not pouted, Gods did not pout (as his father so often talk him), but his lips were pressed together and slightly stuck out. This was just ridiculous, he wasn’t pouting and he wasn’t jealous, because what would he even be jealous of? Some less awesome version of himself gaining Mobius’ praises?

“Agreed.”

Loki’s head snapped to the man who was studying his watch intently, a little too intently, if Loki wasn’t imagining it.

Mobius cleared his throat, looking back up at Loki, a mild smile on his face, “We haven’t found The Variant, yet. Any more guesses?”

Loki let out a frustrated noise, “This isn’t fair, you have more information where we’re going, I haven’t been given any clues!”

“Take a breath.” Mobius told him with an amused smile and a glint in his eyes, “Why’s it so hard for you to say I don’t know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nice, very funny,”

Coming from anyone else it would have annoyed Loki, but it sounded both fond and amused from Mobius, he needed to get out of the TVA it was making him… he didn’t know, but it wasn’t what he was used to, and that made him nervous, which typically made him feel stabby. “So you’re not going to tell me? It’s taking forever, for a place which dictates how everyone else should spend their time you’d think that you would actually develop a elevator which doesn’t waste all of your time.”

“Time works differently here in the TVA, Loki, I’ve already told you; anyway no need to whine, we’re here now.” The elevator stopped and the doors opened and Mobius strode out and headed left.

“I wasn’t whining,” Loki whined to the empty elevator, before bounding after him.

“What’s this?” Loki bounced on the balls of his feet as Mobius stood in front of a door, as it scanned him.

“Do you ever stand still?”

Loki thought for a second, he shook his head, then ran his hand through his hair to place it back into its original place, “Most people ask me if I ever shut up.”

Mobius looked away from the door to Loki with that ever present smile, “I already know the answer to that one,” he winked then pushed the door open and walked inside.

Loki took a few more seconds to follow him than he perhaps would have had Mobius not winked at him.

When he finally did walk in he was met with… an apartment, fairly lifeless, the style of the rest of the TVA continued inside of the place, a small kitchen, a living area with a screen which looked like a television but he dare not ask in case that bloody cartoon clock began to play, there were a couple of doors leading off to one side and a couple more leading off on the other side.

“I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“Don’t use that patronising tone on me, I'm not a child.”

Mobius sighed, “I wasn’t using a patronising tone on you, Loki, I was asking you what you don’t understand, which is okay.”

Loki gritted his teeth and began to move around the room, strolling to the kitchen, he wasn’t sure if it was to stop himself from snapping again, or, gods forbid, from apologising. “So?” He turned back to see Mobius watching him with his hands tucked into his pockets.

“So…? Use your words, Loki.”

Loki could see the glint in his eyes across the room, that time he had meant to “What’s the test? Has the variant been here? Or is there some sort of set of clues? Or…, I swear if there’s a training video or propaganda video I shall launch myself out of the windows.”

“Nah, we’ll start on the training and propaganda in a day or two, not right this second, and those aren’t windows.”

Loki turned to look at the windows, “What are you talking about, of course it’s… oh simulated glass panes… I must have sustained a concussion from The Hulk, I’m never usually this slow.”

“Of course…” he said in a way which made it clear that he did not believe it, “We can get you checked out at the medbay tomorrow, if you like, being here might be affecting your healing capacity. This isn’t some form of test, it’s an apartment, my apartment.”

“It’s…” Loki looked around again with fresh eyes, it was still fairly lifeless, but there was a bright yellow mug on the draining board with that bloody clock on it, and a Coca Cola red pen on the table closest to him, a few certificates with ‘Mobius M. Mobius’ on all of them, along with some books which didn’t seem to be propaganda for the TVA… interesting… “It’s very…,” he tried to think of a compliment but gave up quickly, so instead gave a shrug, “it’s smaller than my childhood nursery was.”

Mobius gave a laugh, “I’m sure it is.”

“Well it’s very… it’s certainly an apartment… Why precisely are we here?”

“It was agreed by Judge Renslayer that if you would be working with us you deserved to be housed somewhere which isn’t a cell, of course you can’t go anywhere without me, and this apartment is fully secure.”

“You’re not worried that I’ll slit your sleep in your sleep?”

“It would mean I don’t have to get around to all of the paperwork on my desk.”

Loki frowned, why did this man never take his threats seriously? “If I’m staying here where will you be staying?”

“There’s two bedroom’s Loki, you’ll be staying in the guest bedroom.”

“A guest bedroom? Why do you have a guest bedroom? Are you allowed guests at the TVA headquarters? Do you have guests? Like your mother? Do you have a mother? Do all of the apartments have guest bedrooms? Are you agents allowed to get married and have kids? I don’t see why else you’d need two-.”

“Loki, can we stay on topic, please?”

“Sorry,” Loki swallowed, looking around once more, then back at Mobius, “I… I suppose it’s better than a cell.” The best thing about the cell had been Mobius’s visits, because Loki enjoyed annoying him, and nothing more.

“Marginally,” Mobius chuckled. “Is that a yes? Cause if not I should get you down to a proper cell before dinner time.”

“I… I suppose.”

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic, the cells really aren’t that bad, if you’d be more comfortable in your own space then I can take you there.”

Loki rolled his eyes, dropping into a rather uncomfortable armchair, he almost regretted his dramatics, almost . “I’m staying… But if you try to indoctrinate me into your cult with more of those videos I’ll skin you alive.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Loki was certain that he was going to kill either himself or Mobius by the end of the week.

#lokius #lokius fic #wowki #wowki fic #agent mobius #mobius m mobius #loki #loki laufeyson #loki disney+#loki show #they were roommates fic #twr fic #twr

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oiksuga · 3 years

Text

come on and show me

prompt: smell of mint: “the strength of love and hate are one in the same.“ for @tooruluv | #tooruluv2kparty pairing: oikawa x f!reader tags: angst, misunderstandings, childhood neighbors to enemies (?) to ?, rated M for Makeout (so rated pg-13) warnings: underage alcohol consumption, ambiguous ending wc: ~4k synopsis: the one where you and oikawa grow up right next door of each other. complementary songs: unholy - hey violet // new girl - finneas // like real people do - hozier a/n: this fic had me biting my nails. i haven’t written in ages and to tackle something this long made me woozy. hope you enjoy it! (update: decided to turn it into a semi-angsty one-shot instead, maybe i’ll continue it as a side project, but for now, it is done!) no beta we die like men. i’ll proofread later.

You first meet Tooru Oikawa at the age of six. He had just moved to your street. The house right next door, no less. Quiet, shy, a bit of a crybaby. He clung to his mother for the entirety of that first meeting, a stuffed cartoon alien tightly clutched in his right hand. Your mothers, naturally, hit it off. You and Oikawa on the other hand, well that’s was a work in progress.

You tried to play nice, you really did. Your mother had told you about how it was just them two and his older sister. His father had died a little over a year before. So obviously you felt bad. You went over to his house on a few ocassions. His mother would welcome you with open arms each and every time. He was another story.

He had enough manners to come say hello, even inviting you up to his room to play with some toys (at the behest of his mother) but the minute she was out of sight, he’d go back to his own things, paying you no attention. Not that you particularly fancied playing with him, but if you walked this far to visit him, you would think he could acknowledge you for more than 2 minutes.

Tired of wasting valuable playtime sitting on the floor of his room, you take matters into your own hands and ask your brother for advice. He was a year older than you and Oikawa, so naturally you believed he held the secrets to the universe.

You approached him after dinner, and presented him with your problem.

“And I don’t know why he makes it so hard to be friends. And mom just keeps forcing me to visit him.” The huff of indignation only made him laugh.

“Well Y/n, you have to understand that he’s lonely. He is not very used to having others around him.”

“But if he is so lonely, wouldn’t hanging out with me make him feel better?”

“Remember how mom told you his dad is no longer with him?” you nod, “Well he has been living with other girls so much he probably wants to play with another boy. Guys don’t always want to play princesses you know?”

“So would he want to play with me if anothery boy was present?”

“Well, that is up to him, but it would interest him.”

“Then will you come with me tomorrow when I go over?”

“Sure”

And that is how you found yourself at his doorstep once again, brother in tow. His mother practically bounced off the walls seeing he had accompanied you. Did she also think he needed a boy to play with? She called Oikawa down, and you could hear some grumbling from his end. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, a confused looked ag the sight of two people instead of one.

Your brother went up to him first.

“Hey, uh Tooru right?” First name basis already?“I’m Y/n’s older brother. Well I just wanted to see if you wanted to hang out with me and a couple of my friends today?”

Huh, so that was his plan. Your brother is the unofficial leader of his group of friends, comprised of various kids in the neighbourhood. Some his age, some more around yours. They like to cause trouble and torment other kids at times. Your mothers were close too. Unfortunately for you, none of them had any sisters your age. So everytime you were supposed to play with them, you were miserable.

After that first meeting, your brother and Oikawa had become quite the pair. He took him “under his wing” (as he liked to call it) and formally inducted him to his squad. They were over the moon to have someone new to hang out with (read corrupt). You, on the other hand, could not hate it more. Now that those two were buddies, Oikawa was always present in your home. Anywhere you looked he was there. And now that he had other people to be with, he came out of his shell. Gone was that snotty kid with the alien plush, now replaced with a self-absorbed bastard you wanted no relation to. Too bad he never took the hint. It got worse once you both turned 14.

“You know Y/n, I’ve gotten so many confession letter this week. But oddly enough, I have not gotten one from you. You need to hurry up before one of these girls wins your spot as my girlfriend.”

“Well good thing I have enough smarts to never feel the need to do something like that.”

“Ouch Y/n you are killing me over here. Whatever, I’ll just look for it in your room when you are gone.”

“What the- how are you going to do that? You know what don’t tell me. Just please get out.”

“Or you are gonna do what? Call your brother to-“

He was interrupted by the arrival of yet another nuisance in your room.

“Hey Oikawa, please leave the poor girl alone. Stop being such a pain”

Enter Hajime Iwaizumi. Ah Iwaizumi. The other half of the obnoxious duo. Not that you don’t like him. No, quite the opposite. He keeps Oikawa tame and off your hair, something which you are deeply grateful for. But he also has his habits of annoying the crap out of you. All of your brother’s friends do. But you like to think that deep down they’d do anything for you.

“Not now Iwa-chan, Y/n is about to confess her secret feelings for me.” He says, clearly aware of the growing irritation on his friend’s face.

“Don’t make me pull you by your hair again. We are going to be late for the movie.” He emphasized his threat by rolling up sleeves, a tell-tale sign he was about to beat the crap out of Oikawa.

“Alright alright Iwa-chan you are such a hard ass.” He now turns to you, taking a few steps forward and stands right in front of you. “I’ll see you later, m’lady.” With that nickname, he took your right hand and kissed your knuckles. You could only srunch up your face. Gross, how many of those shows are he watching.

You heard the downstairs door shut and with that, it was silent again.

Finally, peace.

Years went by, and Oikawa’s popularity only skyrocketed. Everyone around him found him attractive, so naturally they’d hang on to him. He was also really good in volleyball, so everyone would go to see him play. Your brother and him remained close friends. Hosting parties together, going on weekend long trips with all their friends. All things you were forbidden from participating in because, as your brother said, this is not the crowd you want to be with. Your parents still let you host your own events, but nothing of that magnitude.

Soon enough, years went by, and you began your senior year of high school. This was going to be your years. With your brother now gone, having graduated and gone off to college, it’s your turn to be the life of the party. No more “you can’t be there.” Now all eyes will be on you. And what a better way to make your debut than with a party. While classes didn’t start until a week later, it was your brother’s tradition to take over your parent’s beach house for a weekend and hold a last big major bash before the semester began.

Invitations were sent, music was chosen and all that was left to do was tidy up the place. You brought some of your friends with you to help you get the place ready before the chaos began. Sweeped everything, locked away valuables, and got them settled in two of the rooms so they could sleep comfortably after. As you were outside stocking up the bar area, you heard a collection of voices coming from the living room. It’s too early, why are there people coming already? As you walk back in, you are greeted with Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and their two friends, who were also part of your brother’s group, Hanamaki and Matsukawa, all too sitting too comfortably in your couch.

“I hope you guys know this is a respectable place.” You crossed your arms at the sight of them getting too comfortable in your couches. Feet up on coffee table like savages.

Oikawa spoke first. “Relax darling,” God you hated that nickname, “You do know we have been here more times than you right? The parties that have happened in this place oh man.” You felt indignated at his attempt to one up you in your own home.

“Well if I recall correctly, this is still my parentms place, so I can have you and your friends kicked if I wanted to.”

At that, the other three butted in, a chorus of “Oikawa what the hell man,” and the sound of Iwaizumi hitting the back of his head.

“Okay fine. I’m sorry Y/n that you are so jealous of me and my party animal ways.”

“God you are exhausting. But anyways, I am glad you guys are here because I need help hanging some lights outside. Iwa and Mattsun, could you pretty please come with me to hang these?”

You led them outside, before sticking your head back in, directing your gaze to the two remaining guys camping in your couch.

“And don’t think I have forgotten about you two. Kiyoko needs some help putting more stuff together, and the rest of the girls went out to order food, so please make yourselves useful and go.”

You play some music on the speakers, and get to work.

Soon enough, the party was in full swing. You swam through the sea of bodies trying to locate the kitchen. The sheer number of people was disorienting. But to your luck, the swaying crowd somehow guided you to your destination, slightly sticky from stranger’s sweat, but otherwise unscathed. You make way to the counter and try and lift yourself onto it. The drinks in your system making in a harder task than usual. You are halfway through climbing in a more unlady-like manner, when a voice calls out for you.

“Uh Y/n, need some help?”

You turn around to see Oikawa. His face was flushed, you assumed it was from whatever was in the plastic cup in his hand. Hair disheveled, forehead shiny from his sweat. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, and the lighting made his chain glint at an angle. If he wasn’t Oikawa, you’d admit he was attractive.

You become aware of your compromising position and stop your attempts of getting on the counter. The suddent movements make you wobbly, and you grab onto the counter to keep stable. You notice him walking over to you, and motion for him to stop.

“I don’t need your help. Just get me a water bottle from the fridge please.”

He obliges your request and gets some water for you, going so far as to opening the bottle, and hands it you. You are silently grateful, as you don’t think you have the coordination to do it yourself. As you are drinking, feeling the relief of the coolness down your throat, you notice he’s staring at you. This felt odd, there was something about the way he looked at you. You felt too vulnerable. It was getting awkward.

“So, you enjoying the party? I saw you doing a shots competition outside earlier. Did you win, Mr. Party Animal?” You made sure to emphasize the mock of his nickname.

He huffs indignantly. “Well Y/n-chan, cannot believe you doubt my abilities. If you must know, I did in fact win, with an impressive 5 shots down my system. And look at me, cool as a cucumber.”

You look at him for a second, brows furrowed, and then burst out laughing. “‘Cool as a cucumber’? God you are lame.”

All he can do is stare at you. You have never laughed like that. It’s always measured, not too loud, not too long. This is different. He likes different.

When you stop, you notice he is staring again. You feel small. As if you are under a million spotlights, all pointed at you. You are about to ask if he was okay, but seems like someone beat you to it.

“Hey Tooru~ I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you okay?” She notices the position you are in, and slightly grimaces, “Tooru who is this.”

He blinks, a bit too hard, and turns to face her. “Hey Sara, this is Y/n,” he motions to you, “you know, the one who organized this party.”

Sara. You know who she is. And she definitely knows you. You two met at the last student council election, a few months back. When you found out you were running agaisnt each other. She was the current president, and you held a lower position as secretary, so running for president felt like a giant leap. Though it seems that after a month of campaigning, debates, and a tiresome election you had won. A very exciting moment, and what felt as a good culmination to your high school career. You and Sara had an extensive talk about it over coffee, in which she assured no ill feelings towards you.

By no means were you guys best friends, but you also like to think you were not enemies.

“Oh Y/n and I know each other. Great to see you again, and amazing party, you really know how to entertain.” Well that answers that, she doesn’t hate you. Great. “Do you mind if I borrow Tooru over here? There are some things I need to talk to him about.”

“No problem at all, glad you are having fun.” You wave goodbye and with that they were gone. You were alone.

Now feeling more sobered up, you decide to go back to the masses. Your newfound energy leading you to the makeshit dancefloor, letting loose to Makk’s karaoke rendition of Pursuit of Happiness. What a movie moment. Everything letting loose in a beach house living room.

The thing that wasn’t a movie moment though? How much you needed to pee. How come no one ever informs you of the effects alcohol has on your bladder?

Once again, you venture through the bodies to find the bathroom. There was no line, which should have been a sign. But you made no thought of it, until you swung the door open and found, in the most cliche moment ever, the ever-present Tooru Oikawa passionately making out with Sara. That sobers you right up.

If they noticed, you wouldn’t know, because you bolt out immediately and go straight to your room. You go to the bathroom there, and as you are washing your hands, you stare at yourself in the mirror. Even though you only saw them for a second, the image of those two making out was burned in your brain.

There was something about the way he held her, pressed to the sink counter, hands on her waist, that made you feel something inside. You chalked it up to general lust and splashed cold water on your face, trying to stop whatever your brain was imagining. You left the bathroom, ready to take a break in bed.

That was, until the man in question made his appearance in your room.

“You know there are laws against trespassing right? So I don’t know what you are doing here but-“

“I came to apologize.”

Well that’s a first.

“Apologize for what exactly. You haven’t been an ass the entire night, if anything, I should congratulate you for that.” You say, tone more snarky than you intended. What were you even pissed about.

“Well I think you and I both know what you walked into. And I just wanted you to know that is not who I am, nor how I behave.”

“Well let me be the first to tell you that I don’t care who you suck face with, as long as it doesn’t happen in my presence.” What was up with you right now.

“What if it was with you? Would you care then?” He took a step towards you. You took one back.

“What are you talking about.” Why did he keep walking towards you. This room cannot be that big.

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” Your back was met by the wall at the end of the room, and Oikawa now stood in front on you, “Darling.”

Something about the way he looked at you, combined with the alcohol in your system and the muffled music you could hear from downstairs made your insides feel on fire. I must be going crazy, you thought.

Because as soon as that god-awful nickname left his lips, you pulled him down onto yours.

“As your big brother, it is my duty to protect you from all the evil things that are out there. You know that right?”

“That includes Oikawa right? He is such a meanie. I don’t know why you even hang out with him.”

“Well, Tooru is different. He means well, he just doesn’t express it how you are used to. Boys his age usually behave like that. But he’ll grow out of it. You’ll learn that eventually.”

“Well I don’t care. He’s mean and I hate him. I don’t care if he changes. I’ll still hate him.”

“Haha. Well I’m glad. Wouldn’t want you messing around with someone like him anyways.”

Curse the heavens. There was no denying it. Tooru Oikawa was an amazing kisser.

He knew exactly what he was doing. Grazing his tongue to yours every now and then. His hands, god his hands, his right one was holding his chin, while his left one slid up and down your waist.

Curse his perfection. This cannot be that snotty kid from all those years ago. This is a whole different person. Yes that’s it. This is not Tooru Oikawa. Because Tooru Oikawa is not capable of making you feel these things.

Like any normal person, you have to breathe, so you break the kiss. He has the audacity to whine at that. You look of to your side, because something tells you that if you look at him right now, lips swollen and pupils wide, who knows what’ll happen next.

He doesn’t like any of it.

He takes this opportunity to move his mouth south, landing on the flesh of your neck. He seems to have caught you offguard, if the sound you make at his action is anything to go by. He works his magic in the area. Biting. Kissing. Sucking. Anything that’ll draw out more of those noises. And you wish he’d stay there for eternity.

But you are you. A little selfish. And always wanting more more more. So you take him by his shirt and lead the two of you onto the bed, gently sitting him down and taking a seat directly on his lap. Now this is more.

But this also felt wrong. On so many levels. You don’t think you could ever look at your parents again if you have sex on their bed. But the desecration of their sleeping place is a small price to pay for the enormous pleasure you are sure he would bring you. Because if there’s one thing Oikawa Tooru believes in, is doing his best.

And he sure as hell will do his very best with you.

“Well well darling, look who is eager now.” He spoke with that sickeningly sweet tone he always uses. But there is something else behind it. You can’t really pinpoint it, but before you could ponder on that, he got a hold of your hips and started to drag you along his length.

Well if you are off to hell, might as well enjoy the ride.

You decided to be bold and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and onto the floor. You could sit here and wax poetic about how intimacy goes beyond physical appearance and his muscles are not important, but you are no philosopher. So you’ll say it. He’s hot. You knew the guy was ripped, having been witness to the arduous workouts he and your brother did over the summer, but this was something else.

Your brother. Ha. Imagine if he could see you right now. Actually don’t. That’s weird. But he would be dissapointed wouldn’t he. All those years being so put off by the mere presence of Tooru Oikawa and now you are sitting atop him, like some sort of worship. Oh the hypocrisy.

No you can’t think of him right now. No get out of there.

“Something the matter, princess?” Ah again with the nicknames. “I think you’ve had enough fun up here. Maybe it’s my turn to be on top don’t you think?”

You nodded. Because that is all you could muster. You feared that if you opened your mouth, all of your thoughts would slip out.

He rolled you to the side, off of him and onto the mattress. He stood up and groaned and god the way that made you feel. He kneeled on the soft surface, and leaned down to face you. Because he is the epitome of cliche, though, he makes sure to flash you the biggest smile you have ever seen. It looks different. It looks genuine. That’s new, a bit exciting even.

And before you know it, he goes back to work on your neck. He used his knee to put a slight pressure between your legs. You cannot keep your thoughts straight for long, because the next thing that comes out of your mouth is a moan of his name.

You’ve never used that tone with his name. He, of course, loves it.

“You cannot imagine how many times I have imagined of doing this.” While you are on your way to what could be a very mind-blowing orgasm, and you are incapable of coherent sentences, your hearing is very much okay. But there is no way you heard what you just heard. Because what the fuck.

“Stop.” It’s low, a bit above a whisper. He couldn’t hear you, you conclude, so he keeps at it for a bit, but when he feels the push of your hands on his chest, he pulls away immediately.

“A-are you okay? Did I hurt you? Do you want to stop this?” For someone with the charm of a western hero he sure is insecure.

“What did you mean by that? What do you mean by ‘I imagined of doing this’?” Well of course you know what he meant. But what did that mean for you two? This isn’t something that should be happening. And you tell him just that. “This is not something we should even be doing.” Crap.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You might not be very fond of him, but you know him. So you know he is probably getting too much inside his head right now, so really you should have seen his next words coming.

Except this is all new and you haven’t been able to see any of this coming.

“You know what, you are right. I am sorry. I think we should leave. Actually, this is your room, so I’ll go.” You have to be imagining things, because there is no way he sounds hurt over this. Is there?

You want to ask if there’s a genuine chance he meant what he said. You really do. But you are scared of his answer. All your life he has been the kid you cannot stand, your brother’s annoying friend. But this changes everything. You have no feelings for him, that you know. But apparently there is chance he does. So what are you doing about that.

Before you can ask, you hear the door shut. In a flash, he is gone. How befitting.

And like that, once again, you are left alone. All you can hear is the boom of the speakers.

Your lifelong long was to have Tooru Oikawa out of your life. Now that you have succeeded, why do you not feel at peace.

fin.

#um hi there #i have not written in ages jesus #rip my ao3 fics i feel sad for not finishing them #haha i need help #tooruluv2kparty #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #tooru oikawa #oikawa x y/n #tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff

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flyingkiki · 3 years

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A Very Merry Christmas (4/4)

We're ending this little series with a steamy little Christmas celebration for our favorite little birbs. Thank you all for following this series. I had a lot of fun writing this story.

Chapter Three of A Very Merry Christmas is here.

I'll focus on a few other TimRae projects and finishing a few other stories. Would you be interested in an AU?

Here's a steamy Christmas celebration, my loves!

~~~

Christmas dinner was a sin, really. It was the most delicious meal Raven ever had in her lifetime – Alfred truly did wonders in the kitchen. She still silently marveled at the normalcy of the Wayne family celebrating Christmas with a Christmas ham, creamy mashed potatoes, and array of vegetable dishes and sides, and a delirious amount of desserts. It felt strange to watch Bruce Wayne carve into the ham and gingerly place a rather large slice of ham on an annoyed Jason’s plate. The emotions in the room were strange – hurt still bubbled low and raw underneath the surface, but there was a level of protectiveness, forgiveness and care she could feel all at once with the family.

While everyone was still full and dutifully placing dishes into the dishwasher (“Alfie should not wash dishes, you little shits,”), Raven, Cass and Alfred carefully portioned off leftovers into containers for everyone to take home tomorrow.

The house smelled like Christmas as Cass steered her back into the sitting room where the large Christmas tree was bright and warm. If she blinked, Raven thought she was in an old Christmas movie as she watched Dick and Bruce settle a few more gifts under the Christmas tree. Their movements ruffled a few sprigs of the tree and Raven could smell the fresh scent of pine.

“Presents time,” Cass whispered into her ear and pushed her into the plush rug next to Tim, who easily caught Raven by the elbow and helped her settle in next to him. Cass pushed a plate stacked high with desserts into Raven’s hands, “Eat,” before bounding up to the couch to settle next to Bruce.

Raven stared at the gingerbread men and colorful thumbprint cookies warily before shooting Tim wry smile. “This is so much food,” she whispered to him, while watching Tim chuckle and pluck a colorful peanut butter Christmas cookie, his favorite, off her plate. Alfred had taught her how to make them, which thankfully turned out passable by Alfred’s standards. Tim didn’t seem to mind the burnt edges.

“We’re growing superheroes, we need our calories,” Tim said teasingly before quickly devouring the cookie.

Raven leaned into Tim, pressing into his side as they settled comfortably against each other. Curling her legs under her and feeling just a tiny bit drowsy from all the food, she carefully balanced the plate on her lap. “I don’t think I’ll fit into my uniform after all of this,” Raven breathed in resignation and took a careful bite out of a gingerbread Batman.

Tim made a dismissive sound and grabbed another peanut butter cookie while the rest of the family was busy pouring themselves glasses of eggnog and hot cocoa. “I definitely do not mind you out of your uniform,” he whispered discretely into her ear, earning a blush and exasperated eyeroll from Raven.

“Shut up,” she shoved Tim lightly, and she smiled at his amused chuckle as he plucked another cookie from her plate and crawled towards the large coffee table to grab them some hot eggnog. He carefully crawled back to her, half a cookie in his mouth, balancing two glass mugs of eggnog in his hands. Raven accepted the small glass mug and took a careful sit and immediately felt the warm rush of alcohol and spicy, creamy sweetness coat her tongue. Delicious.

“Okay, presents!” Dick announced after Alfred finally joined the family, not after depositing a large Christmas log on the table much to everyone’s delight. Bruce dove right in and began handing out slices.

Raven settled back and watched in a mixture of fascination and amusement as everyone eagerly handed out gifts. Bruce received a Green Lantern shirt from Jason, much to his chagrin. Damian received a new easel stand from Bruce. Jason got a new holster with tech upgrades from Tim. New ballet shoes for Cass from Dick. Alfred received some incredibly fancy pair of gloves from Damian. Dick chuckled in amusement at the Hufflepuff scarf he received from Cass (Both Dick and Cass seemed to have taken quite a liking towards Harry Potter).

There were more gifts that were passed around and opened and Raven took great pleasure to take in the domesticity of the scene in front of her. She ignored how her stomach leaped and warmed at the occasional ‘Thank You’ and the hug she received from Cass for the ballet tickets (“We can go together!”). She still was not entirely used to having this kind of doting attention directed towards her. This year she and Tim signed the tags of all the gifts for the rest of the Wayne brood with their names together. It was a surreal act, a first in their relationship (since last year they just kept to themselves), making this feeling of inclusion into this little bubble very real. She watched as Damian carefully unwrapped the silvery wrapper of their gift for him, her gaze briefly catching sight of the familiar tag she and Tim meticulously cut out and signed. She felt her heart leap briefly and marveled how a simple strip of paper could affect her.

They gifted Damian with leatherbound sketchpad and graphite pencils which Tim had carefully picked out for the younger boy. She watched as the corners of Damian’s lips curled slightly into a smile as he lifted the large sketchpad and inspected the lettering of Damian Wayne carefully pressed into the leather. She knew that Tim and Damian were not always at best terms, but Tim still was very thoughtful of his younger brother’s interests.

“Thank you, Raven, son,” Bruce smiled kindly over at the couple, holding up a large leather satchel. Tim had mentioned that Bruce needed a new bag for work, so he and Raven tried to find one and worked on customizing it with a few more hidden panels and locks.

“Welcome, B,” Tim beamed and quickly went through the codes and panels with the older man.

Raven was busy making plans with Cass to catch a performance at the New York City Ballet Company for their Spring season with the promise to use a portal to pick the younger woman up in Gotham. Tim returned and sat down next to her and gently pressed a small present into her lap.

“Oh,” Raven looked at the small red package in surprise. She caught Tim’s bemused smile and playfully rolled her eyes. “Wait, let me get yours,” she said and hurried towards the tree and grabbed the medium-sized gift. “Here,” she offered him a stern look. “Don’t shake it,”

“What is it?”

Raven settled next to him and placed her own gift into her lap, curiosity piquing slightly at what could be in the box. “Just open it,” she nudged him gently while watching his fingers pull at the ribbon and meticulously unwrap the giftwrap.

“Oh,” Tim pulled out a Sigma camera lens from the box. He blinked and stared at the new model, surprised at the gift. They briefly talked about getting new lenses for his camera a few months back, Tim was touched that she even remembered that conversation. “This isn’t even out on the market yet,” Tim marveled.

Raven shrugged and smiled mischievously. “I have my ways,”

Tim carefully returned the lens into its box. Leaning in he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, Rae,”

Raven hummed, a warm blush dusting her cheeks, and she ducked her head. Focusing on her gift, she unwrapped the gift carefully and stared curiously at the grey box. Carefully lifting the lid, a small smile spread across her lips as she stared at the little note she found on top of a pair of very fuzzy blue socks. ‘For your cold feet.’

She released a soft huff of laughter and pulled out the impossibly soft and fuzzy socks. She shot an amused look at Tim, who quickly returned hers with a familiar boyish grin of his own. Pushing aside the colorful box stuffing, she pulled out a portable mug heater and a beautiful kabuki mask from his last trip to Japan.

“Thanks, Tim,” she pressed a soft kiss onto his cheek.

“There’s one more,” Tim gentled nudged her shoulder, prompting her to look back into her gift box and rummage through colorful paper before fishing out a small velvet pouch. She cast Tim a curious glance, before turning back to the little pouch and carefully opening it. Turning it upside down, she knew it was jewelry when she felt the light weight of a chain slide down the pouch and drop into her hand. “Tim,” she breathed.

It was gold necklace with a little bird in flight pendant. The pendant looked delicate and finely made, Raven could see the details of feathers on the little bird’s outstretched wings. The little pendant slid down her palm as she shifted her hand in the warm light, the delicate weight of the necklace tickling her palm. She never really thought much of jewelry, but her heart warmed at the thoughtfulness of the gift.

“Do you like it?” Tim asked carefully, leaning into her space, and gaging her reaction. He knew that he shouldn’t be all too worried over her not liking the gift, he already knew that she appreciated small tokens and trinkets. Early on into the relationship Tim learned that Raven did not seem to care over expensive and lavish things, but she enjoyed simple treats and gifts from his business travels and missions. She did the same by bringing rocks or other strange trinkets from her off-earth missions. Yet the little golden necklace seemed to unwittingly rattle him just a little bit, he thought.

Raven smiled and nodded. “It’s pretty,” she mumbled, careful to keep the little conversation between them as the rest of the Bat family busied themselves with their own presents and conversations. Leaning into his space, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You shouldn’t have,”

“Well,” Tim chuckled and took the necklace out of her hand and gently pushed her shoulder to turn her around for him to put the necklace around her neck. “I would have wanted to get a bat pendant, but that would have been weird,”

Raven released a huff of laughter as she pushed her hair out of the way and allowed Tim to fasten the necklace around her neck. The little gold bird settled against her red reindeer sweater. Absently fingering the little pendant, before turning back to Tim to show him how it looked. She smiled as she watched him beam at her, blue eyes bright in mirth. He looked happy and content, bathed in the warm Christmas lights and wrapped up in his dorky Festivus Christmas sweater. Raven’s heart warmed at the sight, the Tim she met so many years ago was so different – much darker, and she enjoyed seeing this new light in him. Leaning in, she kissed Tim. “I love you, you dork,”

Tim hummed and offered a mumbled ‘I love you’ back before gathering her into his arms for a quick hug. Aware of others around them and the curious glances they shot their way, he released her and pressed a quick kiss to her temple before they settled next to each other. While Raven busied herself with Cass, Tim caught Bruce staring at them, his gaze warm and there was a small smile on the older man’s lips. Tim felt a little flustered at being watched but felt relieved to find himself in a better place with Bruce and the rest of the family. Offering the older man a small smile, Tim was glad that he and Raven decided to spend Christmas together with the family.

“We should take a family picture,” Dick announced, his Gryffindor scarf clashing terribly with his cat Christmas sweater. There was a loud cacophony of agreements and grumbles (“So many dramatics, dickface”) as Dick herded people to the small couch by the Christmas tree and had everyone settle around Bruce and Alfred.

Raven blinked, suddenly unsure where to place herself in the middle of people moving around the living room for the family picture. She awkwardly stood up and made a grab for Tim’s camera. “I’ll take the picture –”

“No!” Cass jumped to her knees and stopped Raven from picking up the camera from the table. “You sit with us,”

Raven felt heat rush to her cheeks at the invitation. “But I –”

“You’re one of us now,” Dick chirped from his perch on the couch’s armrest. His arm was slung over the back of the couch behind Alfred and he smiled warmly at Raven.

“Sit,” Tim mumbled warmly into her ear, gently pushing her lower back towards the couch. He easily caught on her sudden discomfort, catching the way her brows drew together in worry. Smiling gently, he gave her another gentle push before he took the camera and worked on setting up the tripod and timer.

“Come sit with us, Raven,” Bruce said while wrapping an arm around Damian next to him. Bruce easily caught her flustered glance and tilted his head towards the side where Cass had settled down next to the Christmas tree.

Raven tried to hide her surprise and embarrassment as she ducked her head and hurried to sit down next to Cass by the foot of the Christmas tree. You’re one of us now settled low in her stomach and surprisingly sent warm jolts up her spine – she had not expected that invitation. She felt Cass’ hand wrap around hers and she looked up at the younger woman in surprise. Cass offered her an encouraging smile and nudged her shoulder. Raven offered a small one in return as she allowed these new feelings to settle in.

“Hurry up, Timbers. Let’s get it done within this year’s Christmas maybe?” Jason’s annoyed voice drifted through the living room and Raven listened to Cass giggle next to her. “My hot eggnog is getting cold, and I’d like it warm, thank you very much.”

“Hold on, one sec,” Tim mumbled. He was busy tinkering with the camera settings, making sure that the lighting was perfect, and the exposure was just right. After making sure that everyone was in frame, Tim pulled out his camera remote. “Okay, got it.”

Hurrying towards Raven and Cass, Tim settled down on the floor next to Raven and gave her gentle smile. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to his side, he squeezed her shoulder encouragingly. “Okay, everyone. On three, smile. One, two, three!”

“Wait now? Or on three? Or after?”

“On three, Dickface!”

“Boys!”

“Three!”

As the sounds of the camera shutter filled the room, Raven smiled and leaned into Tim. Whatever discomforts and flustered feelings she may have had early on, seemed to have slowly dissipated – like a weight she had been carrying on her shoulders had lifted. She belonged. Leaning into Tim more and feeling his arm just tighten a little bit more around her, Raven basked in the warmth of belonging.

The picture turned out great.

They all settled into their own rooms later that evening after everyone had their fill of eggnog, hot cocoa, and the Christmas Yule Log was miraculously eaten up. (“When you raise boys, leftovers are rare,” Bruce told Raven with a chuckle) A round of ‘Merry Christmas’ filled the living room followed by amusingly stiff yet warm hugs among the men (except for Alfred, who warmly hugged his brood) and a promise of Christmas leftovers for breakfast for everyone.

Raven and Tim silently shuffled back to their room carrying their gifts. Raven was surprised she even received gifts that evening considering that none of them even knew that she would be coming. The cashmere scarf from Alfred was beautiful (“I wasn’t sure who Master Tim would bring, but I would think every young woman would need a beautiful scarf”) and the Christmas-themed Batman sweater was funny (“We didn’t know who you were,” Dick shrugged apologetically). Bruce gifted her with a first edition Mark Twain book, undoubtedly pulled out of his personal library, but she loved it. (“You’re welcome to come and visit the library, or our home, anytime.”). Damian surprised both Tim and her when he silently offered them a thick rolled up paper before scurrying back to Bruce’s side and stuffing his face with cookies. When she and Tim unfurled the paper, they were surprised to see a beautifully drawn pencil drawing of both of them asleep and curled up into each other in one of the many sitting rooms of the house. It was beautiful.

Just as they carefully deposited all their gifts on Tim’s study table, Raven heard a little huff and scuffle by their door. Titus’ head peaked through the open door, obviously on his way to Damian’s room down the hall. The large dog whined, begging for Raven’s attention. Leaving Tim to change and get ready for bed, Raven released a soft chuckle and went over to the large dog.

“Hey boy,” she whispered and knelt to offer some scratches. Titus huffed loudly and promptly plopped down on the floor and rolled onto his back for some belly rubs. Raven eagerly complied, rubbing the dog’s soft fur.

Raven chuckled as Titus gave a low huff and whine as she scratched just the right spot. She heard Tim move in the background and slowly appear next to her, watching them in amusement. “Titus is going to miss you,” Tim chuckled while rubbing his face with a towel.

Raven hummed and she briefly looked up at Tim, noting that he had already changed for bed. Taking that it was her turn to get ready, she gave Titus one last pat on the belly and finally stood up. “I’ll miss him too, but not his sheer force of a dog,” she said with a small smile and stood up. They both watched Titus whine and get to his feet, watching Raven curiously. With a sneeze and a huff, he sat by their door. “Night, boy,” Raven gently patted the dog on his head before gently nudging Titus out the door and closing and locking it.

Pressing a kiss to Tim’s temple, she slowly shuffled off towards the bathroom to wash her hands and get ready for bed. She could hear Tim climb into bed and tinker with his phone as she heard the distinct tapping of keys, she was sure that Tim was busy checking emails and some work-related project from WE. She could feel the gentle push of his stress and it was a little surreal how well she knew Tim. While admittedly, there was still so much to learn from each other, Raven oddly caught herself surprised at how well they complemented each other despite the physical distance between them at times.

Despite her earlier hesitations of coming to meet Tim’s family officially, Raven was glad they made this trip. She understood his hurt a little bit better. She got a glimpse of how much he cared for his family, despite the tension that often bubbled low beneath the surface. She understood and saw Tim more, a rawness she was privileged to see, and her heart unconsciously warmed to have shared those moments with him.

Frank Sinatra’s ‘Have yourself a merry little Christmas’ crooned softly from the bedroom and Raven smiled. Feeling warm and full, Raven was glad she was here with Tim. She silently hoped for more of this. These quiet, raw, moments between them. Funny how she now found herself wanting this kind of raw intimacy.

After washing her face and brushing her teeth, Raven stripped down to her underwear – thankfully a matching lacy black pair. Not bothering to change just yet, she slipped out of the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe as she listened to Sinatra’s voice and watched Tim frown at his phone screen.

“I’m not sure Frank Sinatra will appreciate you frowning so furiously at his singing,” Raven teased, while playfully crossing her arms.

“There’s just a report –” Tim paused and openly stared at her figure, drinking in the black lace. “Oh,” He sat up, leaning against the headboard and watched her move towards the bed with piqued interest. “Hey,”

“Through the years we all will be together…”

Raven released a soft chuckle. “Hey,” she replied, lips curling every so lightly as she felt the familiar press of desire and attraction press against her. Drinking in his own boyish grin and the way his muscles rippled as he carefully placed his phone on the nightstand while not breaking eye contact with her had her own desires pool low in her stomach.

“Merry Christmas,” Tim said as Raven reached his side of the bed.

Raven hummed playfully. “Merry Christmas,” she replied and climbed into his lap, Tim’s hands immediately settling on her thighs as she sat down.

Tim grinned up at her boyishly and ran his hands up her thighs and over the swell of her hips. Fingers teasingly hooked into the sides of her lacy underwear and his lips curled further into a smile as he caught her amused stare. “May I unwrap my Christmas present?”

Raven released a thoughtful hum and ignored his fingers press into her hips. Leaning over him, she instead slipped her hands underneath his grey shirt and teasingly tugged it up his body while pressing a kiss to his neck. “I was hoping I could unwrap mine?” she mumbled into the underside of his chin as she pressed her body into him and felt his hands splay over her hips and butt. She tugged at his shirt once more and they fumbled to remove it while Raven lay over him.

They kissed languidly, both basking in a warm Christmas glow that settled low in their abdomens and left warm tingles up their bodies. Fingers were needy and gentle as they pressed into familiar curves and scars.

Raven felt nimble fingers run up her back and make quick work to unfasten her bra as she kissed him deeply. With a soft inhale, Raven sat up on Tim’s lap and allowed the garment the slide down her shoulders. Raven raised an eyebrow playfully as she caught Tim’s heated gaze, watching her remove her bra and drop in on the floor. For good measure, she teasingly rocked her hips into him as she felt his erection press against the apex of her own growing need.

Inhaling sharply at the steady rocking of her hips, Tim’s fingers dug into her hips and slowly slid up her waist for a steady trek up her chest. “Definitely the best Christmas, I must say,” Tim announced, hooded eyes eagerly drinking in Raven’s naked form.

Raven teasingly raised an eyebrow and ran her hands down his abdomen, watching in satisfaction as the muscles contracted in contact. She hooked her fingers into his sweatpants. “I still need to finish unwarp—”

Titus’ loud snuffling interrupted them as he sniffed the bottom of their bedroom door. Raven paused, lips lifted into an amused smile, and they both curiously watched as the silhouette of a large nose danced across the small crack at the bottom of their door. There was a low whine and a lot louder snuffling.

Tim shot an annoyed-amused look at this door. “Go away, Titus. You’re killing our Kinky Christmas mood,” he said, which of course did not achieve anything with the silencing charm still in place in the room.

Raven chuckled. With a little spark of magic that danced through the crack, Titus released a loud huff, before scurrying away from their bedroom door. With purple eyes dancing in amusement, she turned back to an equally amused Tim. “We should get a pet,” she said, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully and she regarded Tim’s surprised expression.

Tim blinked, surprised at the announcement. Scooting further up against his pillows to sit up better, he dragged Raven closer to him on his lap. The pads of his fingers pressed into her waist. “A pet?” he repeated, curious at this sudden announcement.

“Yes, a pet. An animal,” Raven rolled her eyes and squeezed his left forearm playfully.

Tim paused, gaging where this was going. He watched Raven curiously, waiting for her to explain but she seemed to wait patiently wait for his reply. He blinked. “Uh, okay? But we’re rarely together as often as we’d like in one location. So maybe a,” Tim paused and drew his eyebrows together. “A fish?”

Raven released a soft huff of laughter. “I’m pretty sure a fish needs just as much care as any other animal,” Her gaze softened a little bit as she took in Tim’s curious look and the corners of her lips curled up. “You always said you’d like a cat and I thought we could get one together?”

Tim’s chest warmed at Raven’s explanation. She remembered their conversations of wanting to own a cat as a child but never having been able to. Tim smiled warmly up at Raven, as a rush of emotions spread across his chest. It was always so easy to remind himself why he loved Raven because of her simple acts of kindness and thoughtfulness. “I’d like that,” he said. Curious, he pressed on. “So, it moves around with us? A few months in Gotham and Jump at a time? How do we –”

“I could be more in Gotham,” Raven cut in, tilting her head thoughtfully as she looked down at him.

“Oh,” Tim breathed, as realization slowly dawned on him. A pet – something they’d share together, the feeling of permanence bubbled low underneath his skin and the thought left him just a little bit breathless. “More time in Gotham?” he repeated, sounding terribly like an old record, but he needed to confirm what he was hearing and what it meant.

The corner of Raven’s lips lifted slightly, and she shifted in his lap as Tim sat up fully to lean against the headboard. Fingers pressed into the dips of her waist, and she felt a blush spread across her cheeks and neck as she felt his warm press of emotions against her – want, love, happiness.

“Yeah,” she replied and absently traced an old scar along Tim’s right forearm. “I’ve been thinking of getting a degree at Gotham University, have a life more outside of the Titans,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “I’d still help where I can, but –” Raven blinked thoughtfully and stared at Tim. “I’d like to have a life as Rachel as well,”

Raven watched as a smile grew on Tim’s lips. She returned his smile, her own emotions a whirlwind in her chest as she thought of the different prospects of the future. “That’s an excellent plan,” breathed Tim, eyes shining and his grin wide with excitement and happiness.

“Yeah?” Raven asked, unconsciously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. They occasionally talked of the future and their current arrangements, but her plans offered unspoken possibilities they both seemed eager to explore. “That is, if Batman is okay with having a half-demon resident in Gotham?”

“Fuck Batman,” Tim huffed and pressed forward to kiss Raven, muffling her bark of laughter. Pulling away from the kiss, he smiled “So, a cat?”

“We should look at shelters,”

In a rush of emotions, Tim kissed her again. The promise of so much more between them seemed to teasingly dance in front of them and he was eager to take what he could get. He felt Raven hum and melt into the kiss, leaning deeper into his embrace.

“I love you,” he breathed after finally pulling away and gently pressing another kiss to the corner of her lips. Basking in the joy of the moment and the unspoken promise of what lay ahead for them, a cat and so much more, Tim pulled away and carefully leaned towards his bedside table. “I have another Christmas gift,” he announced and with unusually clumsy fingers, he pulled the small item out of the bedside drawer.

Raven’s brows furrowed as she curiously watched Tim blindly fumble through the items in his drawer. She kept her balance on Tim’s lap, as he twisted and tried to keep his balance over the edge of his bed as he rummaged through the drawer. “Here,” Tim announced and turned back to her a little too quickly, eager to present to her what he pulled out of the depths of his drawer.

“What – oh!” Raven felt her heart stutter to a halt and her breath was knocked out of her lungs. She stared at the small black box in front of her with a wild mix of emotions. She blinked, wondering perhaps she was seeing things, but yes – the little black box was there. Her heart jumped into her throat. “Tim.”

Tim blinked at her tone and jumped as his own thoughts and stray emotions seemed to catch up with him. “It’s --- ah,” he breathed, and Tim was sure he could barely hear his own thoughts over how loud his heart was hammering in his chest. He shifted in bed, bringing Raven closer to him. Her eyes were wide, staring at the little box in his hand.

“It’s not an engagement ring,” Tim quickly explained, catching the panic and surprise that crossed her face. “I --- ah, yet.” He quickly added, heart beating like mad in his chest and he watched in relief as Raven released a soft huff of laughter and the confusion on her face disappeared.

He pressed the little box into her hands with a nervous laugh. “It’s not an engagement ring,” he repeated and offered her a small reassuring smile. “Yet – we didn’t talk about that. But --- yeah,” Tim wrapped her fingers around the small box and held her hands. “It’s just a ring I thought you might like,”

There was an inexplicable warmth that spread through Raven at the unspoken promise of something deeper. They had never really talked about how their future may look like – their work offering little stable foundation to a permanent future. But this tonight – these little promises and pictures of what may potentially be ahead of them painted a much clearer picture of the future for the two of them. It left Raven breathless. They were getting a cat, together, and they had this now – this little warm bubble they shared.

“Oh,” Raven opened the box and stared at the silver infinity knot ring perched in the velvet case.

“I thought you might like it,” Tim explained gently, taking in Raven’s surprised reaction. “I just – I like this, us, and everything we have together. It was a dangerous mission, but Lisbon and getting shot and getting paired with you was incredibly lucky for me – well, minus getting shot and losing a lot of blood, but,” Tim shrugged and watched as Raven chuckled softly. “I’m so lucky to be with you, and I honestly don’t think I deserve you or everything that you’ve given me. You’re the kindest, most loving person I know. The last year has been incredible and yeah --- I want more of this. These moments of us together, it’s been incredible. I love you, Rae,” Tim felt his stomach twist and he smiled gently at Raven. “I’d really like that cat with you,”

Raven laughed; eyes filled with unshed tears. “I love you too,” she breathed and dipped down for a deep kiss he eagerly responded to. There was a jumble of emotions that seemed to catch up on her – she honestly wasn’t quite sure if they were hers or Tim’s, but the feelings were pleasant, and she was in no rush to dissect them.

She pulled away when air became scarce and a deeper hunger pressed into her as their hips slowly rocked into each other and fingers pressed into the dips of her ribcage and brushed just under the swell of her breasts, a reminder of their nakedness. Sitting upright under Tim’s watchful gaze, she pulled the ring out of its box and slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. Looking down at Tim’s face, she quirked her lips up teasingly. “Are you sure you didn’t just propose?”

Tim laughed and leaned forward to press a kiss onto her cheek, he felt her grin widen. “I want you to be my cat partner,” he teased and ran his hand down her bare back, enjoying how her warm skin felt against his hands. There was a little window that offered a little glimmer of being more than just cat parents that they both seemed to acknowledge but they did not bother to speak about – yet. “Besides,” he mumbled against the underside of her chin and teasingly ran his hand over her waist. “I’d rather propose somewhere else, not with a 200-pound dog standing guard outside our door and the rest of my family in the house,”

Tim flipped them over, Raven released a soft laugh as she was pressed into their bed and Tim hovered over her with a teasing smirk. Fingers teasingly hooked into the waistband of her underwear and he grinned boyishly at her, long hair falling into his eyes as they twinkled playfully. “And I’d like us to celebrate very loudly all over our apartment and not worry over nosy neighbors,” he said and playfully tugged at her panties. Pressing down for a breath-stealing kiss, Tim nipped at her lower lips and pulled his body flush against hers and gently started to tug her panties down. “For now, we celebrate us being cat parents. I’m going to unwrap my Christmas gift,”

“Yes,”

With a final tug, black lacy panties were thrown off their bed and Tim quickly dipped his head between her legs, tongue eagerly licking wet folds and burying into an addictive warmth. Raven gasped loudly, back arching off the bed, just as hot electricity shot through her body and desires pooled low in her abdomen.

“Tim!” she gasped, her thighs straining against his forearms as he pressed them wide open. Raven’s world seemed to turn into a blurry haze as heat just ignited her skin. Blindly grabbing the sheets to anchor herself and her reeling world, Raven buried her right hand into Tim’s hair and gave it a sharp tug as he hit a particular delicious note in his ministrations. Groaning, Raven felt her titter dangerously out of control.

Enjoying watching her coming undone, Tim continued with his careful ministrations of measured licking and strokes. Humming in delight as he felt her sharp tugs in his hair, he peered up at her and watched in satisfaction as continued to writhe in delight. Spreading her wider open and digging his fingers into her hips, Tim’s tongue buried deep within her and eagerly stoked a fire that made her sing.

Raven felt the world melt away as she felt herself quickly tumbling over the edge as Tim continued to stroke and suck, quickly sending her into oblivion. With a cry, Raven felt her body tumble over the edge. The world seemed to explode as she fell through the sky and her body roared at lick after lick after lick – continuously stoking flames and propelling her into the abyss.

The world came back around her slowly and the first thing she heard was her unsteady and rapid breathing. Her senses came back one of after another, her skin hot and sticking against the sheets despite the cold winter air that brushed over her legs. She lay spread eagle, all her limbs weak, and she gasped for breath as the heat within her belly still roared and her core throbbed deliciously.

“Fuck,” she breathed, blinking up at the old wooden ceiling and thanked the gods for their common sense of using a silencing charm.

“Hmm,” Tim made a humming sound of agreement from below and Raven lazily lolled her head in his direction to catch him still draped over her thighs and hips. He looked like the cat that ate all the cream – quite literally with the way his chin glistened. Raven blushed at the sight and her desires roared lowly for more. Nimble fingers danced over her heated flesh, dancing across her inner thighs and dangerously close to her throbbing core – teasing her with each stroke. Raven involuntarily bucked into him. Fuck.

“That was the best present to unwrap tonight,” mumbled Tim with a soft grin. He watched her sigh softly as he ran his hands up her waist. “Need to do one more thing before we move along,” he announced and quickly began kissing and nibbling on her hip bone.

“What are you doing?” Raven asked in between breaths as Tim nibbled and sucked on her hip bone, teeth scraping against heated flesh. She gasped as teeth dragged across her skin and she felt herself buck into him, cashing the delicious friction.

With a wet pop and a satisfied grin, Tim looked up at her, catching her blown blue eyes over her heaving chest. Tim felt his emotions hum in satisfaction, he loved watching her come undone and loose herself. “Just leaving a little mark to celebrate the occasion,” he said, eyes trailing back to her hip bone.

Raven’s brows furrowed together in confusion before releasing a soft huff of exasperated laughter as she saw the blossoming red bite mark on her skin – on her hip bone. “You didn’t,” she threw him an accusatory smile.

“Oh, I did,” Tim kissed her rib cage as he crawled up her body. Pressing a kiss to the side of her right breast, he dragged himself up her body and enjoyed the silky press of her skin against his. Pressing into her and enjoying the subtle roll of her hips against his own, he kissed the underside of jaw. “Thought it’d be a good touch to celebrate our Kinky Christmas,”

Tim had lost his sweats at some point earlier and Raven felt him brush against her inner thigh. Chasing the silky heat and his hot emotions, she laughed and wrapped her arms and round his shoulders, drawing him flush onto her. “You sap,” she whispered and caught his lips for a kiss. Feeling him brush against her, she whimpered softly and wrapped her left leg around his waist.

Tim rolled his hips against her teasingly, his cock brushing against her entrance and he released a breath he was holding in anticipation. Teasingly, he kissed the corner of her lips and smiled. “You like it, admit it,” he said while grabbing her leg around his waist and digging his fingers into her thigh. He grinned at the soft mewl and how their bodies rocked into each other.

“Yes,” She whispered, slowly loosing herself again. Her fingers danced over his shoulders and traced old scars. Rocking her hips against his and chasing the heat that was building up, Raven tapped his shoulder and hungrily brushed up against the silky skin of his cock. “But,” she whispered and her breathing stuttered as Tim started to kiss her neck and continued to teasingly rock into her. “I – I’d rather,” she mumbled, and she felt him nibble at the junction of her neck. “You fuck me into oblivion to celebrate our cat parenting future,”

Tim dragged his teeth along her pulse point and listened to her stuttered breathing. Allowing a fire to consume both of their desires, Tim promptly crawled over her and grinned down at her wolfishly. Rocking his hips into hers and brushing against her entrance teasingly, he spread her wider for him and pulled her in for long, bruising kiss. “Gladly,” he growled and all but impaled himself into her hot heat in one fluid motion.

“TIM!”

Much later, when they lay spent against each other and basked in the afterglow of lovemaking, they’d agree that this was perhaps the best Christmas they ever had – the promise of more Christmases together, as a cat family, seemed to glimmer teasingly.

#TimRae #tim drake #raven roth #teen titans #young justice #batman #No Beta we die like robins #TimRae Fanfiction

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crimsonheart01 · 3 years

Text

I Promise (Angel Reyes x Female!Reader)

A/N: Shout out to one of my day ones @chaosinourbones for this request! Love you boo!! It’s been a hot minute since I wrote for my other tall boy. Let’s hope I do him a world of justice. Enjoy some angsty fluff with our boy!

Prompt: 22. “How can you possibly look good with snow in your hair?”

Word Count: 2.3K words

Playlist: I’ll Be Home - Meghan Trainor [Spotify] [YouTube]

Warnings: None (surprisingly)

"I'll find my way back home And light up every tree We will hang our stockings for you and one for me 'Cause Santa called to make sure I'm prepared He said, 'Pack your bags and tell them you'll be late'" I'll Be Home – Meghan Trainor

He checked the time on his phone once last time before reaching out for the double doors in front of him. He shook his head in disappointment at himself. He hadn't meant to lose track of time, but he had a hard time coming up with an excuse to slip away from the boys. Irritated with himself, he closed his eyes for a moment before gripping the handle tightly and propping the door open. He ducked into the gymnasium as quietly as possible. He thanked whatever gods there were that the whole room was covered in darkness, allowing him to post up against the wall unnoticed.

He gazed around, taking note of the varying ages of those in the audience. He smiled. The turnout was amazing. He knew how important this project was and how much effort she'd given to it. Seeing how many people came out brought out a feeling of pride for his community. This was what holidays were supposed to be like.

Tucking his hands into his pockets, he felt the sensation of someone watching. Turning his head, he found his Pops watching him with a keen eye. He smirked at the old man and nodded in greeting. They both turned back to the front of the gym as the lights on the stage flickered between reds and whites. He grinned at the spectacle of the moment.

The stage had been decked out in a perfect replica of a winter wonderland. No doubt to set the scene. He watched as dozens of kids lined the stage and began to sing out loud and proud. He couldn't stop the chills that covered his arms and the broad smile that grew. It wasn't every day that they got to see a production of this stature. It didn't matter that it was just the local community center's holiday concert. Seeing everyone come together to put it on was where the real magic was.

He leaned back into the wall, getting comfortable and enjoying himself. He knew he'd missed the first half of the performances, but he was happy to say that he'd been here for the second bit. It was better than not making it all, a promise he made sure he kept. His gaze roamed over the crowd, and he spotted her almost immediately.

He held back a chuckle at her outfit. She had chosen to go the authentic route with a long-sleeved Henley shirt and puffer vest. He noted the thick wool mittens she wore and the matching wool headband. There was no doubt in his mind that she was sweating, even with the air conditioning pumping through the vents. She took no shortcuts, always going that extra mile to make sure everything fit the scene.

He watched as she mimed the dance moves to the kids, keeping them in step. He let out a quiet sigh as he appreciated her. They were still relatively new in their status, but he knew she was the one. At least, he hoped so. Maybe it was the time of year that had him feeling this way, but he couldn't help but want to parade her around town. Show her off to everyone and anyone.

He'd yet to properly introduce her to the club, unsure of how it'd go. She was nearly a polar opposite of everything that they were. She was his angel. He rolled his eyes as he made the comparison. She should have his name, not him. In his opinion, she was much too good for him. He still couldn't fathom why she gave him the time of day in the first place, but he wasn't going to question it too much. He had her now, and that's what mattered the most.

The concert continued, and he watched with a strong emotion of pride the entire time for her and their community. They did it! They pulled it off. When the finale finally hit, he stood up to his full height and clapped along with everyone else, even letting out a few good-natured hollers in her honour. Once everyone was back up on stage, taking a bow, confetti and fake snow began floating all around them. The crowd roared with awe and wonder.

He found himself staring at her, melting at the smile she was sporting while she stood there. She'd outdone herself. Everyone would be talking about this night for weeks to come.

He kept himself sparse as the auditorium emptied. Finding an available seat off to the side and stretching his legs out in front of him, all while he admired her from afar. He wasn't interested in interrupting her, not while she was being congratulated by everyone, young and old. He carried around a specific reputation, and he wasn't ready to sully hers.

He ran a hand through his hair, knowing full well she'd tell him he was ridiculous. She never saw a problem with who he was. She knew he lived a very different life, that there was a lot of danger in his way, but she didn't believe that reputations determined who they were. He wanted to believe her, but there was always that voice in the back of his mind telling him otherwise, telling him that it was too good to be true and to take advantage of what he had with her before it was gone.

He was broken out of his thoughts by a hand resting on his shoulder. He glanced up to see Pops watching him and where his eyes had been glued a moment before.

"This who you've been hiding?" Felipe surmised.

Angel furrowed his brow, "No one's hiding anything."

Felipe stared at his son, his eyes telling him that he understood the situation exactly. Angel scoffed and shrugged the old man's hand off him. He shook his head and swallowed, attempting to ignore the sympathy in his father's gaze. Felipe took the hint and took a step back. Both men looked back up to the first row of seats, where she was standing and speaking animatedly with a few parents.

With a deep inhale, Felipe nodded and turned, "Give yourself the benefit of the doubt."

Angel clenched his teeth at the words of advice, annoyed at his father’s perceptiveness, but nodded his head as his father walked away. He wasn't hiding her, far from it. He was keeping her safe, at least that's what he was trying to convince himself of.

~(MMC)~

She'd spotted him as she took the stage in the encore and was overjoyed that he made it. She knew there was always a chance that he'd get caught up with the club, but she was happy to see that he found a way to make the event.

As the night wound down, she found herself expecting him to seek her out but instead, she found herself tugged from person to person while he kept his distance. She sighed internally, knowing that he was still in a questioning stage of their relationship. She'd hoped that by now, he'd understand that she wasn't afraid of him or who he was. She knew people had their own opinions, but she knew him better than them. That's what mattered to her. Him. Not everyone else and their beliefs.

She breezed through the stragglers wanting to get their thanks in, and in no time, it was just her and the lone Mayan in the gym. She stood facing the double doors, flattening her palms against each one, ensuring that they were closed. She heard the creak of the chair as he stood up and listened to his footfalls as he went. It took her a minute to realize he was walking away from her by the echo of his footsteps.

Creasing her eyebrows together, she spun around only to endeared by him further. He'd taken that moment to approach the stage and take in the full effect of the décor. She let out a small chuckle as she watched him run his hand through the mess of confetti and snow on the platform. He pulled his hand back and brushed his hands together to rid himself of the flakes.

She took stock of him as she stepped down the middle aisle, noting that he'd chosen to leave the kutte out of his outfit for the evening. It touched her in a way she wasn't expecting. She knew how much the club meant to him that it was his life. The fact that he chose to appear as something different for her production had her chest swell with emotion.

As she neared him, she reached out and toyed with the sleeve of his flannel. Her touch was light but enough to alert him to her presence.

"You made it." She smiled up at him.

He turned towards her and immediately slung his around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

"I promised, didn't I?" He quipped, but she could hear a subtle tone of frustration.

Not wanting to dwell on anything negative, see pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before linking her around his and pulled him in the direction of the steps leading onto the stage, "Come on, take a closer look at everything."

They ascended the stairs together, and she talked him through all the details of the decorations and set up. He kept up with her, asking a few questions here and there but for the most part just admiring the whole thing. She lead him to the middle of the stage, where the spotlight was still shining. Slipping her arm out from around his, she pointed up to where the blankets that held the snow were housed.

They both looked up as she explained how they managed to get it to float instead of just dumping it down on top of everyone. She even chuckled as she noted there were still a few swirls coming down. When she turned back around to face him, she laughed. He arched an eyebrow at her, and she stepped in closer to him. She grinned at him, and he couldn't help but respond in kind.

Reaching up, she thread two fingers through his hair, "How can you possibly look good with snow in your hair?"

His eyes shot upwards even though he knew he wouldn't be able to see what she saw. Her fingers daintily plucked out a few of the fake snow pieces, and she let them crowd the palm of her hand. She held it out for him to see, and he chuckled. He lifted his hand to cover hers, twining their fingers together. She smiled down at the sight.

Using his other hand, he lightly tapped underneath her chin, signalling her to look up. She accepted the gesture and glanced up at him. His dark eyes reflected the bright lights above them and took her breath away. His thumb brushed across her chin, and she bit down on her lip as he licked his. He bowed forward slightly as if he was waiting for her to deny him before clearing the distance between them and pressing his lips to hers.

His kiss was tentative giving her a chance to react to him. She smiled against his mouth and fell into him. She caressed one hand up the center of his chest before fisting the fabric of his shirt in her hand. At her reaction, he let go of all his hesitance and dipped her back, pushing everything he was feeling into their embrace. She clutched at his upper arm with her other hand and let him hold her in his arms.

There was a strong need in his kiss. His passion seeing itself through and making itself known. She poured herself into the moment, wanting him to feel everything she was experiencing by being here with him. He made a small noise at the back of his throat, and it sent a wild thrum through, causing her to hold him tighter. She wanted him to know how much she cared for him. All of him. Everything that he came with.

Losing himself in the moment, he pulled her back up, their heated connection lost for a moment and spun her around. The remnants of the snow swirled around their feet, and she laughed at the momentum. This was her Angel. This was the man she'd fallen in love with. As the dust settled back around them, she looped her arms around his shoulders, resting her head against his chest.

The sounds of the janitorial staff broke them out of their spell. With a sigh, she loosened her arms around his shoulders and looked towards the doors. Her arms fell away from him, but she made sure to catch one of his hands in hers. She led him off the stage and towards the front of the room.

"I only need to pass over the keys and discuss the finalities with the clean-up crew, and then we can get outta here, alright?" She glanced over her shoulder back at him.

He grinned back at her and nodded, "Sounds good querida."

He tugged her back to him before she was able to break away and kissed her soundly. She felt his smile through the kiss. She pulled back and gave him one last chaste kiss before spinning around to talk to the staff that had shown up. However, she made sure to never let go of his hand as she did so. He was hers, and she was his. Everyone was going to know. She'd make sure of that.

#angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes imagines #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc imagines #12 days of ficmas 2020 #holiday prompts

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 3 years

Text

HASO, “Perfect Timing.”

Alright everyone. I am beginning to realize that maybe expecting myself to write a story every week day with a job and trying to get into grad school and writing a second novel might be a bit..... excessive?

So I am going to try for three times a week. I hope you all stick around :)

And I hope you enjoy today’s story as well.

Adam stood with his hands behind his back, feet spread to shoulder width. He would never have noticed by himself, but the men and women around him stood a little straighter and stepped a little faster under his watchful eye. Once upon a time they might have only hastened their work if he directly asked them too, but just his mere presence these days could send his crew scurrying to do their work. He hadn’t really changed anything about the way he commanded his men. He was firm when he needed to be but allowed for brevity when it would suit the situation.

However, a few years and some tough lessons was slowly shaping him into the kind of man who could command thousands, sharp posture, calm confidence, and a keen eye.

But then again anyone who could appear professional while wearing high top heelies was a man to be reckoned with.

Sunny walked up next to him her pearlescent white armor glowing under the light as she leaned on the shade of her matching spear. Her head was held high like his. Where once she had been locked up, and defensive, she now stood with the calm confidence of someone who understood what control meant.

Together they had come a long way.

She tilted her head, “You really think he’s going to let you race this…. It’s a million dollar piece of military hardware, they don’t stand a chance.”

Adam didn’t move, hands still clasped behind his back as he stared up at the F-90 Darkfire he was preparing for the race, “I wouldn’t be so sure…. I’ll be lucky to come in last place.”

Sunny frowned confused, “I saw those shuttles, they were junk shows.”

He lifted his head as the F-90 was rolled across the deck.

“This is a race, it isn’t combat. She was built for dogfights which means she is going to be heavier than the others. Wing tip to wing tip she is also going to be a little longer than the other shuttles and jets making maneuvering around obstacles more difficult. Sure she likely has a more powerful engine, but that can be as much of a detriment as it is a leg up.” He gestured in the vague direction of the race course, “We are going to be racing through the planet’s smaller rocky ring. It has an unusual amount of larger, thick chunks which we are going to have to manuver around: the kind of conditions you might see in science fiction movies when they talk about an asteroid field. Asteroid fields are generally too far apart to cause any real issue, but here the rocks are dense, and my flying is going to have to be on pont, having a more powerful engine is going to make her more touchy, and my fitness on the controls is going to have to be absolute.”

Sunny tilted her head listening as he continued. She liked it when this side of him came out. There was something about the analytical, logical side of Adam she found….. Very appealing.

He walked forward to examine the jet himself, “Furthermore, I don’t know if you noticed, but there were a few jets there that weren’t exactly junk shows. A few of them were pretty top of the line, and most of them were built for racing. Lighter, sleeker, faster, and with more engine control than mine.

A lot of my maneuverability is lost out of the atmosphere. This isn’t about how well you can manipulate wind currents, this is going to be all about the very minute rotation of the rear and and wing engines. Their wings are smaller and closer in meaning they are going to rotate more easily than me.

She walked up with him and put a hand on his shoulder, “You forgot to fact in one thing.”

He frowned and looked up, “Oh, what did I miss.”

She smiled slightly, “The skill of the pilot, and I know for a fact that we have the best pilot this side of Andromeda. You can have the best plane in the world, but if you have a shit pilot, then a good pilot in a flying trash can has a chance of winning.”

He Smiled, “Thanks, I needed that.”

He stepped back, “Still it doesn't pay to be too cocky. I have a feeling these people have raced this before, they are going to know what they are dealing with, and I am going tinto this completely blind. This is a test to see if my instincts are better than their practice…. Who knows it could be a very close run thing.”

He moved forward to do an extra check on the outside of the ship despite having a whole team of people to do it for him. Adam had learned to delegate a lot of his responsibilities onto others to avoid burnout, but this was one thing he never left to other people. He came back after a thorough check of the ship and stopped next to her.

His head was tilted to one side as he looked at the machine sitting before him.

“It is missing something.”

Sunny turned her head to look at him, “What?”

He smiled, “Do we have anyone here who has experience with graffiti?”

***

Donavan Red met him when he entered the hanger, wearing his flight suit and holding his helmet under one arm. He had gone for some of his more simple equipment. Didn’t want to give the guy an excuse to blame his skill on technology.

Red looked him over.

“Nice suit, princess.”

Adam just smiled thinly looking around at the other pilots, “I see I might be under-dressed.”

To be far though, he wasn’t exactly sure what he would have described the dress code, if he had to put it on an invitation.

The most apt description seemed to have been.

Dress for Pissing contest.

The men and women wore their uniforms in the same way NASCAR drivers might, covered in logos and patterns. Some of them were clearly custom ordered with personal designs on the backs or the helmets, some sporting flames, others cartoon animals, one guy was just covered in black and white skulls.

The affect up close was ok, but from a distance he just looked like an over excited dalmatian, or maybe some kind of flamboyant cow.

A few of them went for color themes, neon red on black. Neon green on blue.

Most of them tried to coordinate with the matching colors on their ship, each trying to outdo the next.

Red smirked.

The docking bay light began to blink red as the airlock was engaged, and the all turned to watch as the doors opened, and Adam’s jet rolled into the docking bay. She was simultaneously both very impressive and very not impressive. She was an instrument of war, and he rockets lined up on either side of her wings said as much. Adam had once considered her rather sleek in comparison to other jets of the day, but looking at her now in comparison with the racing planes and he couldn’t help but compare her to a pitbull or a bulldog next to greyhounds or whippets.

She rolled up slowly and Red raised an eyebrow.

“A whose guy huh?”

Adam smirked, “I don’t know, I kind of like it.”

They both looked up as the F-90 stopped in place, and along her side in delicate blue cursive script was the name Cinderella. The man who had done the graffiti had even taken the time to add some stylized pink roses to the front and end of the word giving it a finished look.

Donavan seemed both amused and annoyed at the same time.

The men and women around him turned to look over ridicule dying on their lips as they saw the smirk on his face.

It was made pretty clear.

He was going to beat them, and when he beat them, he was going to have a princess logo on the side of his jet, never mind all of their cool paint jobs.

Donavan frowned but then turned to everyone, “Alright load up!.” Adam did as ordered, switching seats with the young pilot in the cockpit and strapping himself in. he adjusted his controls, did a quick once over, and then pulled some power from his engine. There was going to be an overwhelming desire to go fast, but he knew that speed wasn’t going to win him this race.

The jets began lining up next to each other, and to his surprise, one of the sleek racing models sidled up next to him, and when he looked over, he saw Donovan Red cambering into the cockpit.

That didn’t exactly bode well, but what was there to do about it.

He felt cool oxygen spilling onto his mouth and nose as the orange tinted visor dropped down over his eyes. He opted not to use the heads up display preferring to see everything around him as he was flying.

They were all in a line now, and up ahead a large projection appeared on the docking bay doors.

Red lights began to blink as the docking bay was cleared of everyone except for the jets.

The image of a woman appeared on the screen before them.

It was one of the women he had seen before in her cut off jean shorts and tight tank top.

“Ladies and gentlemen start - your - ENGINES!”

All around him the room was filled with a roar as the group of people pushed their engines to an idle.

He could feel the jet underneath him as it thrummed and whined vibrating into his gloves and down into his skin.

His very bones could feel the trembling.

“The course is simple, one lap around the rocky interior ring of the planet. Rules are only this, no leaving the ring, no weapons, and no teams, every man for himself. If the race moderators see any of this, you will be thrown from the race.”

She smiled and leaned back to reveal two green flags in either hand.

She began to wave them.

“On your mark!”

He took a deep calming breath forcing his hand to relax.

“Get set.”

He felt his heart beating hard against his ribcage, his stomach crawled up into his throat, and he felt the sudden and overwhelming need to pee.

“GO!”

THe airlock doors shot open faster than they should have been able, a clear sign someone had bypassed safety protocols. Caught off guard by this, Adam shot out of the gate slower than he would have liked. Already the racing jets streaked ahead, their quicker sleeker designs looking right at home against the blackness of space.

He had to remind himself that in space, without wind resistance, sleek didn’t mean shit.

If he was good enough he could have piloted a brick to win.

He gave more joice to the engine and shot forward. He cut under one of his other opponents and then cythed up next to a second.

He was there for only a moment when he saw something coming in from his right.

Instincts had him move fast, and he turned horizontal shooting upwards just as another jet tried to push him out. He was flying over the two of them now, and gave another burst shooting forward and past them.

This open stretch was the only time he was going to be able to use the power of his engine to his advantage, so he gave her a little more juice and shot forward catching up quickly with the racing models at the front. Two of them cut sideways attempting to block his path. He cursed, forced to fire his engines backwards so as not to go crashing into them.

The ring was approaching quickly now, and he could see very clearly that they had not been kidding. The belt was dense, less mate out of fine sand, and instead made up of billions of rocks some the size of him, others the size of cars, and even some the size of large houses. It was the strangest sort of formation he had ever seen around a planet, and he wondered idly how they stayed in orbit.

The two jets ahead of him cut right and then left as a rock came barreling towards him.

He shouted and rolled to the side barely avoiding a head on collision, his instincts saving him where his active brain could not.

He snarled.

“Pull it together.”

There was no time to be thinking, there was only time for flying.

WIth a practiced hand he toggled a switch on the side of his thumb, and his helmet was suddenly filled with the sound of music and drums. His brain focused inward and stopped thinking. He shot over and then under rolling between rocks just inches away on either side. Off to his right the planet below was glowing with the light of it’s star, a lightning blue halo around it where the atmosphere glowed.

He cut the left dove down and then rolled up.

He could see the other jets ahead of him cutting in and out through the rocks. His breathing grew even, his body relaxed, his brain heard nothing but the beat of the music and saw nothing but the obstacles ahead of him.

One of the jets pulled up next to him from behind recklessly rolling around one of the rocks. They were racing wing tip to wing tip now.

They cut right and left under and over he rolled left they rolled right. They were shaky just hanging on, but his flying was smooth.

Up ahead one of the other jets lit up with glowing orange as a set of flares broke from it’s back end shatting against the debris behind it. Rocks were thrown off their normal course and went smashing into each other turning the rock field ahead of them into a meat grinder. Adam shot forward and dived downward while rolling tight, behind him the racer was unable to replicate the move and a piece of rock caught their wing sending them spinning off to the side and out of the ring.

Adam dodged a piece of debris coming in from his left, flipped upside down and shot diving upward and then righting himself just under the jet up front.

He could see the leader now, and recognized it as Red himself .

The jet above him attempted to drop down and knock him out of position, but he gave a burst to the engine and shot forward.

The jet behind him punched downward and nearly collided into a rock before pulling back into the palace.

Adam took their place in second.

Red could see him coming.

Another set of flares was released.

He checked his forward momentum and rolled three or four times to his right. G forces tugged at his consciousness forcing blackness to the edge of his vision. He tightened the muscles of his chest and stomach forcing blood back up into his head as he breathed out in short controlled bursts.

A rock flew overhead, he cut low, bumped up and then executed a rolling turn over a massive rock pulling in behind red and just up to the right to avoid another burst of flares.

The two of them were fighting for the front now.

And red was good, he knew how to handle a jet, but so did Adam.

They roared past a field of rocks splitting apart as a massive chunk came between them. Adam roared forward, and panicked for a single moment as he saw an impenetrable wall of rock appear just before him. Then a crack appeared. He fired the forward engine and cut horizontal passing through an opening that left him only feet to spare. Rock rose up to meet him, and he rotated his engine up dropping vertically before cutting sideways and passing under a rock. Teeth gritted, he punched upward passing through a gap just as it closed behind him.

A yell of exertain escaped his lips as he pulled straight up cutting up the side of a massive mansion-sized rock before diving right back down into the thick of it.

Red was gone, he didn’t see him anymore.

Was he up front?

And then the sleek black jet dropped down from above cutting him off.

He cursed and swerved low past another rock forced to cut diagonal back into line.

He pulled up wing to wing with the men again.

They dove, they pulled up and they took a wide turn ac coordinated together as a military formation never more than four feet apart.

They were going faster than they probably should have reacted. second by second he rolled left Red went right. They both met in a dive rolling past each other, wings almost touching before cutting upwards mirroring each other in opposite directions. The sound of the music melded with the path of his flight.

They were racing side by side just as one of the other jets roared over them careening out of control in a desperate attempt t o reach front. They watched him dive pull up cut left, and then a rock rolled right into their path. The two of them barely had time to react as the rock hit their right wing and then sent them slamming into the next boulder. There was an eruption and a brief ball of fire as oxygen was consumed from inside the cockpit. Debris blossomed up around them in a miniature explosion.

Adam greeted his teeth, eyes wide .

What was once a race suddenly turned into a battlezone. He and Red dove together rolling around the debris desperately trying to avoid getting cut in two. At these speeds, one hit would be the death of them. His heart raced in his chest as he pulled forward cutting in the triangle made by three boulders side by side. Red mirrored him below.

A chunk of metal shot towards him, and he toggled his right wing burst just in time, lowering his left side just in time for the chunk to go flying past him. He pulled up with a gasp as a massive chunk of rock cut up before him. Red shot below and he rolled over the top coming into second place.

Up ahead a mining barge ascended through the line of rocks.

Adam roared with exertion as he pulled up and leveled out shooting right under the attached arm of the barge. Red lights erupted over it’s hull in a proximity warning as he went just inches overhead.

The barge driver, clearly spooked twisted to the side and the arm of the barge rolled with it, catching a boulder and sending it flying towards the grouping next to it, there was a sudden explosion of rock and again he was forced to roll to the side. Up down, over and under, cything between lines of rock.

He was almost hit once, then twice.

He toggled the forward engines, slowing himself down and then shooting straight up before continuing forward.

The rocks around him were rolling unpredictably colliding and then exploding into smaller pieces. There was no way he was making it through that alive.

He was rolling diving spinning twisting, and then, he felt it…. Something he had only felt on occasion. The world around him went silent, everything seemed to slow, and he was filled with…. With a feeling. It was like light, bursting out from his chest, rolling up through his skin and into his head.

He entered a moment of perfect execution. He cut into a tight roll his wings cything through the minute gaps between debris with timing so perfect it shouldn't have been humanly possible. Rocks passed by him at hundreds of miles an hour inches away from the glass of his canopy, one wrong move and he’d be dead. He cut through a gap that gave him inches on either side rolld right dove down, turned left, spun once and then twice, and made a completely vertical ascent. Rocks flew past him on his right and on his left.

Up ahead he could see a gap slowly closing before him. He opened up his engine and shot forward so fast everything was a blur.

The rocks collided behind him as they snapped shut, and he flew into the clear firing forward to slow himself, and then red was there too descending from above spinning and wobbling, almost out of control and careening directly towards a house sized boulder.

He panicked firing up and down at the same time and sending him into a spin.

He was heading directly towards the rock .

WIthout thinking Adam locked onto the rock, and fired. A rocket under his wing detached and shot forward exploding violently just in time for Red to pass through unharmed. Red jolted awkwardly and rolled to one side. Adam cut past under from right to left and rolled straight over red to avoid a rock.

There was a moment where the two of them were staring at each other through the clear canopy.

Eyes met for an instant, and Adam could see the wide eyed fear on the man’s face., Then Adam rolled ahead ducking under the last rock and then bursting out into space.

He let the F-90 have her moment, and completely opened the engine shooting forward and cutting through the finish line which flashed bright green. In that moment He was hit with such a sense of exhilaration and joy that he couldn't imagine anything better. Who needed drugs, who needed love, who needed any of that when you could fly.

Hed did a triumphant loop whooping the whole way.

Of course, a feeling like that can never last long and slowly began to fade away. THe reality of what he had just done was both terrifying and amazing to the point he felt his body begging to shake. The tension and fear he had been holding back exploded inside him just like that joy and he found his hands trembling on the joystick.

He let it overtake him. He had been like this since he was young and fighting it would only make things worse. Despite his shaking hands he flew back to the docking bay and landed his jet with the precision of a surgeon. Finally when the engine was off and the flood stable underneath him he slumped back in his seat shaking and racked with rolling tremors. He closed his eyes and breathed long and slow.

Behind him the others came limping in.

None of them were completely unscathed, at least one person was dead. His hands continued to shake as the airlock doors shut, and as soon as the room was pressurized, he opened the cockpit. As soon as it did, Sunny came running into the room and up the ladder. SHeleft her spear on the floor and helped him to climb out. His legs were shaking and he almost fell if it weren’t for her support.

She knew him too well, sitting him down on the lowest step and kneeling next to him.

“Are you ok?”

He grinned at her, “That was…. Holy shit.”

He held up his hand to watch the shaking, “I’m having an earthquake.”

It was just then that Red jumped out of his jet onto the floor. He staggered when he did but pushed away the men who tried to help, “What the ever loving FUCK just happened. The field had NEVER been like that. Jaz DIED out there, what the FUCK.”

The people milled around in confusion.

Red turned to him, eyes narrowing as he stalked over. Adam sighed and looked up as the man stopped to stand over him

“I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.”

The man paused confused, “What?”

“I broke the rules. Means I forfeit.”

Red looked almost nonplussed, “What are you on about?”

Adam slowly took to his feet taking a few more deep wreaths to steady himself before drawing to his full height. He was stead now and looked down at Red with an unwavering gaze. He held out a hand, “I used weapons during the race, that was against the rules. These weren’t flares to move the rocks. I used a targeted missile during the race and that means I broke the rules.”

Red stared at him.

Then he snorted, “Damn the rules. You saved my ass.” he turned to look at his people, “I am more than man enough to acknowledge that.” HE turned back to Adam, “You saved my life you crazy bastard. I am not even sure how you are still alive ….. Because that flying…. That was….. Holy fuck.” He grinned and took Adam by the shoulder, “you shaking, man.” He held up his hand to show a tremor, “Me too, now let's go get some drinks and talk this out. I owe you after all.”

The two of them walked off through the forest of shaken pilots, “You are the kind of man I can see myself doing business with.”

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ao3bronte · 3 years

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when chaos reigns [the sirens come to play]

A Merman AU. (Rated T with some suggestive language.) Now on AO3!

[Prologue]

Covid-19 and covert relationships don’t exactly go hand-in-hand these days, but you really shouldn’t be touching anyone’s hands right now anyway.

…that is, unless you don’t belong to the same species.

Can Merpeople catch Covid-19? That’s debatable, but news doesn’t exactly flow freely from the depths of the South China Sea. Though we know very little about Merpeople and their ways of life, we do know that they rarely interact with humans, preferring to tear down their ships and rip apart their dams and levies in revenge for poisoning the oceans and seas with their human fossil fuels.

But this isn’t a story about environmental politics, or Covid-19 for that matter. This is a story about love and about putting aside differences. In this tale, Marinette discovers that the term ‘scalie’ (ou écailleux, car nous sommes en France) doesn’t always refer to the commonly known adjective to describe fish skin. And Adrien, bless his heart, really does need to put on clothes when he’s not rocking a fish tail despite the fact that he’d much rather be naked (much to Marinette’s mortification). Anyway you slice it, Merpeople and humans simply aren’t supposed to be together — they’ve always been sworn enemies through and through — but no matter what alternate universe we find ourselves in, these two idiots in love will always find each other.

This is, undoubtedly, their story.

[Part 1]

It’s the beginning of March and Tom and Sabine aren’t taking any chances with this whole virus situation. Marinette seems to catch everything — illnesses, hands, the whole nine yards — and they’d already been talking about sending her down to the Cote d’Azur to spend the summer with her grandmother Gina Dupain in order to get away from Paris for a little while. The constant schoolyard bullying from Chloé Bourgeois has dragged Marinette down so many pegs that Sabine is almost relieved to see Macron call off school for the foreseeable future and books both her daughter and her husband a trip to Marseille before the entire country shuts down for good.

Marinette isn’t happy, of course, but what teen would be? Her friends are in Paris! The fashion is in Paris! She doesn’t want to stay in some sleepy little Mediterranean village where nothing ever happens! Do they even have Wi-Fi there?

It’s a valid question. Tom doesn’t actually know, but he chatters enough for the two of them as the high speed train takes them down the rails to the south of France. Marinette’s sulk lightens a little as he pulls pastry after pastry out of his luggage in the hopes of making his daughter smile just a little before dropping her off with his mother — he knows that their relationship is a little strange after Gina’s last visit to Paris but there’s nothing a little quality time together can’t fix.

Petite Befana is one of those places you find on a postcard. Situated just on the edge of France and Italy, the fishing village’s brightly coloured houses gleam in the sunlight, peppered with lemon trees and winding alleys that seem to almost spill out into the sea. The beaches are craggy and feature small grottos and coves of underground caves that glimmer with seaglass when the sun hits them just right, hiding a pocket sized oasis here and there for the adventurous who like to explore at low tide. Gina likes it here because of the Place du Marché, but Tom often wonders as to the real reason why she’s settled in the quaint harbour after years of Eat, Pray, Loving around the entire planet after divorcing his father.

She’s certainly made friends with every woman in town by the looks of it. Along with her veritable swarm of bar-hopping friends, Tom keeps seeing a woman with pointed features and deep black hair with a violent red streak in it pop up on her Facebook page. They always seem to be in the same jazz club, not that Tom is really paying attention; if his mother wants to spend her golden years drinking negronis and dancing with her girlfriends, that’s up to her.

They disembark the train in Marseilles and take a bus to Toulon, then another bus to Petite Befana. Marinette is passed out and drooling on his shoulder by the end of it so Tom does as he always does and hauls her up like a sack of flour through the thick and winding labyrinths of cobblestone streets towards his mother’s apartment. Gina greets them once he eventually finds the place and, after tucking Marinette into the daybed in the guest bedroom, happily guzzles down the proffered beer on the terrasse overlooking the sea.

“I’ll try to come down as often as I can,” Tom assures Gina, not knowing just how bad of a clusterfuck 2020 was about to become. “I’m sure Marinette will come to appreciate all that Petite Befana has to offer.”

“I’ll take her down to the market tomorrow morning,” Gina assures him, patting her son’s beefy forearms. “There’s an older woman who sells the most beautiful fabrics and I already dusted off my old sewing machine. That should keep her busy.”

“Marinette’s never happier when there’s a project to complete,” Tom responds with relief, downing the rest of his Kronenbourg. “I bet she’ll have an entire closet full of clothes by the time the month is out.”

“And it should only take a month or two for this to blow over.” Gina jabs her thumb towards the television as the news of Covid-19 murmurs in the background amid the waves of the Med on the shore. “And then we’ll be back to normal before you know it!”

(...and we all know how that turned out.)

[Part 2]

Covid-19 affects a lot of people in a lot of different ways. Some feel stir crazy. Others enjoy the alone time. But Marinette? Well, she’s been trapped in the harbours of Petit Befana for three weeks now and our aforementioned heroine is already bored out of her skull. She’s made three dresses, four satchels and twenty two scrunchies with the leftover fabric because what else is there to do down here? Luckily, Covid-19 hasn’t quite affected Petite Befana like it has the other regions of France and Marinette is able to go outside at least...not that she wants to.

There are more artisanal bakeries and charcuterie shops in Petite Befana than there are nightclubs and high end boutiques, which is odd for a village so beautifully situated on the coast of southeast France. Gina proudly boasts that her new home is often bypassed by the glitz and glam of Monaco; lavish superyachts and the seemingly endless stream of paparazzi prefer the glamour and uberwealth just west of their little village, leaving its sleepy inhabitants mostly alone to sell their goods to the tourists that stop by for a night on their bicycles and scooters. Marked with the Italian influences of its neighbour, Petit Befana truly is the little-known last stop on the famous Cote d’Azur which makes it an inspiring landscape for Marinette to discover…

...for all of four days.

She’s already so over Covid-19 and, like any teenager, she’s getting more and more annoyed by the day that she can’t hang out with her friends! Why did Maman and Papa send her down here?! All she wants to do is get back to Paris and design! It’s not like there’s anything fun to do here anyway, besides play video games all day in her bedroom; the only places that offer free WiFi are closed and she can only play Animal Crossing for so long before her grandmother insists on making her get some fresh air.

Ugh!

Grumbling under her breath, Marinette pulls on her raincoat and stomps down the laneway from the terrasse towards the sidestreet where her grandmother’s 1920’s bastide-style home resides. From the cobbled alley, Marinette watches the colourful array of fishing boats land their day’s catch right up on the harbourfront and heads down despite the storm clouds brewing on the horizon.

“Bonjour!” A group of older men wave as she makes her way down the ancient steps, the pathway shaded by thick palms and cacti. She pauses just long enough to ask who’s winning their game of socially distanced pétanque before continuing her way through the pines towards the gravel and sand beaches that line the shore.

The seafront is mostly boarded up, much to both Gina’s and Marinette’s disdain. Her grandmother used to spend most of her evenings at the jazz bar La Sirena with her friends, not that Marinette got to meet any of them. The lockdown shuttered pretty much everything the day after she kissed Papa goodbye and settled into her new life for the next month, but with three weeks already stretching into four, Marinette dejectedly wonders if she’ll ever see Paris again.

Passing the last brasserie on the boardwalk, Marinette leaves civilization for the long stretches of barren coastline. There’s all sorts of little inlets and grottos here and there, especially as she gets closer and closer to the Italian border. Unfortunately, it’s only April, which means it’s rainy, generally unpleasant and completely and utterly empty on the beach.

“No one to talk to, nothing to do…” Marinette sighs and tries to kick a piece of driftwood, only to miss it with her foot in true Marinette style. The faux pas — quite literally — sends her screaming and flailing her arms like an octopus on a ceiling fan as she dramatically plummets face first onto the wet, slimy gravel.

She groans and pushes herself up on her hands and knees, wincing as sea-weathered stones dig into her palms and kneecaps. Marinette is, above all, a walking disaster in every sense of the word — sometimes she wonders if the powers that be seek out to deliberately punish her with embarrassing things like this on purpose for their own amusement.

(ಸ_ಸ … *cough* Zag *cough*)

Marinette whimpers as she wipes chunks of seaweed and brownish foam off her cheeks and chin. At least no one was around to see her fall over — thank god — but she’ll still have to do the laundry when she gets home. She’s covered in muck and little bits of oily slime that are sure to stain if she doesn’t wash it out soon. Marinette grimaces as she tries to shake it off of her hands; humans really have done a number on the seas and oceans...like, why is her front so sticky? She glances at some of the garbage on the shore as she sits on her haunches and wonders if the news has it all wrong. Maybe the merpeople taking potshots at rich people on yachts with old cans and plastic sea trash really do have the moral upper hand…

Marinette, being Marinette, would have continued to stare dazed and confused into space well into the afternoon had it not been for the impossibly shiny something or other sparkling in the grotto straight ahead.

[NEXT PART...]

#miraculous ladybug #mermaid au #lovesquare #adrinette #adrienette #Bronte's Mermaid AU #ml

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neeterloveschenford · 3 years

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THOUGHTS ON RNM 3x08

Wow! What an amazing episode!!! I think I have watched it 5 times now.ed And watched all the Malex scenes on youtube repeatedly. Stopped and stared at every gifset I’ve run across. It’s just been an amazing feeling knowing that we won people!!! Malex is back and I honestly don’t think they will be going back. It’s really, finally their time. But I’m going to save them til last because there will be so much flailing! So I’m going to start with the only thing that I had a real problem with in this episode. Why does no one care about Kyle? I’m positive that they know about him. Alex wouldn’t drop everything he dropped in this episode without letting them know where Kyle is. And there is a very bad habit with this show of telling instead of showing. And I totally get why Maria is the priority at the moment. Kyle is presumably stable and being taken care of by Eduardo, while Maria was deteriorating while she was “possessed” by Jones. But still, a little “Hey Alex, how’s my brother?” from Rosa would not have been remiss. But, I guess I just have to take a step back and remember that this is RNM and old habits are hard to break with them apparently.

Now. Let’s move on to the things I loved. I know there was so much hate and salt thrown Maria’s way because she’s rarely written the way she should be. And of course there was all of last season that made a lot of people loathe and despise her. I’ve had my moments where I never wanted to see her on my screen again, but then I took a step back and realized I was putting all of my hatred and upset onto a fictional character. Maria is not the person who wrote such a crappy story for her last season. I think we can all agree that Maria was Carina’s self-insert character. But I decided that I was going to move past my anger and try and embrace her this season. Admittedly, it’s been up and down. I think there have been times when she has definitely been used too much, and times when she was never fleshed out. But this episode her story revolved around what I have always thought was the most interesting part about her. Her heritage. I’ve always been interested in Patricia and what happened to her at Caulfield. To see how she worked with Nora to build the Lockhart machine was great! And then to find out how she was injected with the alien chemicals after Lockhart figured out she was actually helping the people she was supposed to be injecting, that was awesome. I’m glad Maria got to find out more about her family’s past. Now I’m left wondering if Arturo has a past interaction with aliens or a connection to Caulfield. So far we’ve learned about the Valentis, the DeLuca’s and the Manes families. Now we need to find out about the Ortecho’s.

Next I would like to talk about all of the wonderful interactions between the women. I was feeling so much girl power emanating from my tv screen! I don’t care what anyone says, I love the friendships between Liz and Isobel, Isobel and Rosa, Rosa and Maria, Isobel and Maria, and Liz and Maria. They were amazing. I can’t wait to see more of their interactions. I think all of the women (frankly, all of the characters) have grown so much this season. I love the bonds of sisterhood that have formed between our ladies! They were all so supportive and caring with each other. It’s like Maria said, she wasn’t alone, she had her sisters with her! And when Liz said the three women I love, I wanted to cry. They have all come so far this season. Is everything perfect? No. But it’s so much better than it has been. I just want more, more, more.

Liz got to be her badass science self again. I loved the fact that she talked to the horse the entire episode. Sometimes we just have to bounce ideas off of somebody. Why not a horse? And the way she figured out how to disconnect Jones from Maria using Rosa’s new powers was perfection. She really got to see a new side to Rosa this time. I’m so glad that we are getting these wonderful Ortecho sister moments!

Isobel is a bamf! She took on Jones without a moments hesitation and totally kicked his ass! I love her so much! She has grown so confident in her abilities. And the fact that the one moment of doubt she had was when Rosa swooped in with pod Yoda wisdom was exactly what she needed. They are one of my favorite friendships on the show.

And my last thing before I fall down the Malex rabbit hole. My dudes. Get over the hug already! It has been canon the entire time that Alex still thinks of Maria as one of his best friends. As much as y’all want her to have her reckoning for 2x06, it’s not going to happen. If it bothers you so much that all you can do after so much wonderfulness, is complain about Maria, then you need to really think about whether or not this is the show for you. She is not going anywhere anytime soon. Yes, she still annoys me sometimes, but I can put that aside and love the show despite her. I don’t mean to be harsh, but there is just too much negativity out there.

So now for the good stuff. (Rubs hands together.) OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!!!!!!!

I cannot believe that we won! We’ve lost so many times. But now WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS MY FRIENDS! We were given a feast with this episode. I mean in the first five minutes we have Alex coming clean to Michael about joining Deep Sky. And instead of blowing up and walking away, Michael actually listened. And what Alex said about making a world where Michael didn’t have to live in fear for the both of them? I nearly died then and there. I seriously could have just had that moment and been happy. The eyebrow flirting was so cute. Then we get it again when they are trying to figure out where Jones was. The heart eyes coming from Michael was glorious. He was so proud of his man and his hacking skills. And we got dorky eyebrow flirting again! Then we have that scene where we learn why Alex is the way he is. I know there has been a lot said about him having a white saviour complex with the story of Omar, but I’ve heard similar stories from actual vets. We tend to let our own feelings about the military cloud our feelings for the men and women who serve. I’m glad that they finally showed Alex’s PTSD. He holds himself away from people because he knows what it’s like to lose people. And Michael rubbing his cheek like that. I almost died again. I just love them so much. And then we get the scene where Alex stops Michael from trying to take the sword from Jones. Him grabbing Michael’s hand like that was downright sexual. I need to fan myself. That’s chemistry folks! And then we get Alex hitting Jones with the truck! What a great parallel with Michael hitting Jesse with his cane. Those boys will do anything to protect each other.

And then we have that scene. SO MUCH GOODNESS! Alex telling Michael about the Lockhart machine. Michael admitting that he knows that he probably won’t get clearance to work on the project. Alex saying he will tell him everything anyway. Our boys have grown so much this season! And the way Michael took off his hat to kiss Alex. I just felt so much in that moment. That kiss was so soft and sweet. When they pulled away, the way Alex looked up at Michael with so much longing was just uh! And Michael’s little exhale and smile. He knows exactly how to put Alex at ease. And then the hug. I am ready to cry right now just thinking about it. I know many people think it was too much too soon, but I beg to differ. This is how I’ve always seen things happening. Once they were both on the same page, it was bound to go down exactly like this. They have so much history and passion between them. And now they can finally admit to each other and themselves that there is no one else in the universe for each other. Their love is so strong. Why shouldn’t they acknowledge their feelings while growing closer. In the end I think it will only make them stronger.

So that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I can’t wait til we get worried boyfriend Michael in the next episode. It’s going to be awesome! Till next time my friends!

#roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico s3 #s3ep8 #it's only my opinion

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blackgirlsuperherorants · 3 years

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With more articulation, I'm ready to talk about why the push for Lokius simply bothers me, and this can be said for other m/m or w/w ships that fans push to be canon so hard just because they ship it.

It's the framing. The framing that if Marvel doesn't do it (or whatever the brand is), it's because homophobia, and if other fans don't like it/ship it, it's because homophobia (even if they ship other queer ships and are queer themselves.) And the biggest problem with that is that it overshadows the REAL issue of lack of queer representation on screen in mainstream nerd media, especially from big things under the Disney umbrella (Marvel and Lucasfilm/Star Wars, especially.)

It makes it bad that your ship isn't canon instead of bad that there haven't been any queer romances on screen in the MCU.

And like, as a writer myself, I find myself dissecting the stories of other media all the time. I can watch an MCU movie or series and pretty much assess what direction the story is going in by the narrative points they're hitting. I knew Sylki was basically gonna happen (even if just a kiss) because narratively, that's what the show was doing as soon as they had that "what is love" conversation on Lamentis-1. It didn't mean I liked it. But I knew it was happening.

Similarly, there's no romantic undertones to Loki and Mobius. None. For Marvel to make them a couple, it would mean they'd be doing it simply because the two present as men and it would make stans happy. And while there's something to be said for fan service, it would be annoying to watch them cram two guys together who aren't romantic in the slightest. I'd much rather see Loki meet some guy and have the same type of undertones they were giving to Sylvie and form a real bond to where the kiss feels earned and warranted. Not just put him with the nearest man because "he gay lol."

And how you guys are claiming it's being queer that makes you want this is beyond me. It's not being queer that makes you want this. I don't want queer characters that fuck everyone of whatever gender(s) they're attracted to even when it doesn't make sense for them to. I want real love stories. I mean, yeah, sometimes we can have a slut character, because that's fun, too, but that's not even what y'all think Lokius is. You seem to want them to be in love. But why? Because he's the first friend Loki made that isn't through Thor?

I hate that, too, because I hate this idea that queer people cannot have friends of their same gender without wanting to fuck them. IDK how y'all are, maybe y'all are like that, but I almost never have wanted to fuck any of my friends. The only few exceptions have been when I tried to befriend someone I had a crush on (in which case, usually the friendship can't work, really, because I have a crush on them.) I also think it's okay if you can have casual sex with friends, or if you have a friendship that develops into romance, but Jesus, do you people not have friends that you don't want to fuck? I am bi, maybe more pan (gender kind of doesn't matter to me, I guess) and I'm friends with people of all kinds of gender identities and like... I love them as people, which is why they're my friends, but I DO NOT want to fuck them. Especially my closest friend. I talked about her, before, here, but she's like my sister. The thought of fucking her is gross, to me. Not because she's gross, but because it feels incestuous.

Loki shouldn't want to fuck Mobius just because they developed a friendship. And that's very much how it's written on the series. They almost dislike each other (or Mobius is at least indifferent to Loki) and then they become friends.

That's not to mention the power dynamic that exists, there. And I know some of y'all are subs, but yeah, it's a bit gross to imply a sexual relationship with Loki's captor.

But on to Sylki. It sucks that I feel like most of y'all hate Sylki because Sylvie is a girl, and not just because it's bad in other ways. Like, the reasons Sylki is bad have less to do with "it should have been Mobius" and more to do with it being a lazy 1980s action movie plot that should have never happened. I'm not as creeped out by the selfcest (as many of you wouldn't have been if she was a he, I'm almost positive), but what's bad about it is that they couldn't have a strong female lead character without her being the love interest of the main guy. She didn't need to be, especially because she was a Loki variant, anyway. There was no need for it to have romantic undertones, and there was no need for them to kiss. It was sexist more than it was homophobic (and I can't help feeling like y'all are kind of being biphobic in this case. Maybe I'll talk about that, later, but yeah.) It was sexist bullshit. And there's valid criticism that Sylvie is underdeveloped. She's just angry and something for Loki to project affection onto.

I was also hoping they'd do a "found family" type of thing with Sylvie and Loki and let her be like the sister he never knew he needed, but no, they had to go trope and make her the love interest. It was lazy and bad and basically went "If Loki girl, main Loki want bone!"

Basically, having the main character fall for a character just because of their proximity and gender is bad and I hate it (and it would have been bad with Mobius, too, but yeah.)

Both the Mobius and the Sylvie thing also feel kind of racist, to me, because the show has prominent Black women who aren't even presented as desirable to Loki. And y'all, of course, ship him with anyone but the Women of Color. Y'all can pull true love with Mobius out of your ass, but he couldn't possibly fall for the Black women. lol.

Anyway. Not every show needs ships, and this show shouldn't have had any. I hate it. It's bad.

I guess on the biphobia front, I have heard some takes that it's not biphobic because Loki being queer in the MCU which hasn't shown any queer relationships, and Loki being the first openly queer character means they shouldn't have shown him with a woman presenting character. Which, I guess I get where you're coming from... but I have also been in fandoms for a long time and I see mostly girls saying this shit, which is what leads me to feel like it's simply jealousy. It happens all the time when a long-beloved single male character/celebrity suddenly starts dating a woman. Everyone hates it. And like, we haven't seen Loki be with ANYONE in the MCU, because mostly he's been doing villainy and his dating life hasn't been relevant. If the demigod says he's bi, he can kiss a woman. Especially a woman version of himself. Like I said, I hate it for other reasons, but pretending it's because he should have kissed Mobius is utterly delusional. He probably shouldn't have kissed anyone. Not in this series. There was no reason for any canon romance, especially because the show has a season 2 and we'll have time to see Loki develop earned, deserved romance with someone.

I'd much rather see them create a character just to be his boyfriend than have y'all push Marvel into making Lokius canon, which is a nonsense ship that only happened because Mobius is the only prominent male-presenting character before we meet the other Lokis.

My sincere wish is for people to remember that their ships are just ships and to enjoy them without getting all self-righteous about it. I TOLD y'all that Lokius wasn't gonna be canon like 4 episodes back, and here y'all are acting shocked and like Marvel took something from you. NOBODY expected y'all to ship Lokius. It's not even queerbait.

You can make clear arguments as to why Sambucky was queerbait. It's there in undertones in the actual series.

You cannot watch Loki and tell me you thought it was queerbait, unless you think men can't have conversations or hug goodbye without being romantically involved. Which means, in my opinion, that you need to learn about healthy masculinity.

Again, this is not a defense of Marvel. They DO need to let characters be queer, for real, and not just by saying " A bit of both". Like, let Loki be queer. Let Deadpool be queer. Let these queer characters be queer on screen. Yes.

But please stop making it about your ship. I'd rather see a flashback of Loki dating a guy and see him kiss someone he loved back on Asgard than watch y'all force Lokius. Because my queer rep is not about your crackship. It really isn't. And the fact that y'all keep calling us homophobic for not liking your ship REALLY needs to be addressed.

Like, when will y'all stop? I got on Stucky shippers about this shit in the past. All of us gay as hell, too, we just don't like YOUR ship. A lot of us like other queer ships. A lot of us like queer ships in other fandoms, too, and even have queer OCs. YOUR ship just ain't it. Stop forcing it. Literally, most of the ship wars between MCU fans have been queer ship vs queer ship, not really queer ship vs straight ship. Like, the number one Stucky rival ship was Stony. Not Steggy. People are not homophobic for not wanting your ship.

Sometimes it's because they ship something else.

And sometimes, like me, it's because they want something to make sense narratively and not happen for the sake of it happening. It's always better writing to have a character meetcute a new love interest than to magically turn a platonic friendship into a romantic relationship. Like, even when the characters are straight. Like, when Moesha dated Hakeem. It was just weird, even if he was kind of a great boyfriend. He was just supposed to be her friend, and people didn't really like it because it didn't fit narratively.

And that's why ships for the most part should be left to fanfiction, with the exception of a few where fans are right to call out the writers for not making it canon because it's clearly bait (like what happened to Destiel shippers. To see Lokius shippers compare themselves to THAT was so ridiculous. Destiel shippers had a decade of evidence only to be let down by a criminally unfair ending. Lokius shippers saw two men have a deep conversation once and lost their minds.)

Anyway, I'm not saying don't ship Lokius. I don't even hate it, really. I just think it obviously shouldn't be canon, and fans pretending like they were robbed of it is ridiculous. Literally, Ao3 exists for this reason. I will never see Steve fuck Sam Wilson, so I wrote it into my fanfic. I am not mad that they didn't actually date in the main MCU storyline.

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backalley-requests · 3 years

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The Proposal | Chapter Two

The Proposal Masterlist

Summary: The Proposal™ au, where Ivar gets swept away in a lie about a fake engagement to stay in the country and needs to convince everyone (including his family) that he’s genuinely engaged to a woman he works with

Warnings: Mild swearing, dickish behavior

Word Count: 2,085

That’s how you found yourself sitting down for a meeting next to your boss, pretending the two of you were in love and set to get married. You were more outwardly nervous than him and your leg was bouncing. It made a quiet but consistant tap on the floor.

“Will you cut that out,” Ivar snapped.

You stopped bouncing your foot and glared at him. “I’m nervous.” It wasn’t a voluntary action but it helped with the nerves. Your head tilted up to the ceiling. The office was small and the two of you sat in chairs next to each other. Across from you was an empty desk. The case worker wasn’t here yet. Was this normal? It was 10 am but felt much earlier, and the silence was so loud. The two of you never had normal conversations.

“Don’t be, it’s annoying.”

Did he expect you to remain a calm worker under these conditions? It wasn’t like he could fire you. Both of you risked losing if you didn’t stick around. It felt like a sick game of chicken. “How can I not be? We’re here because you—“

The conversation was cut short by the metal door opening. It felt like a prison, as if the two of you were being detained and Ivar didn’t even want to discuss a game plan. He had actually rolled his eyes when you asked for one.

The man was dressed in a black suit and tie, his hair was short and his face shaven. “Shall we begin?” He lacked pleasantries and it only added to your growing paranoia. There was no handshake or introduction. The man jumped into it. Immediately you felt yourself zoning in and out. Half the time you were thinking too much to listen and the other half was spent committing it to memory.

Ivar nodded confidently, evening out to a neutral. How were you supposed to project that same level of confidence? He appeared so unbothered and you stuck out like a sore thumb. The interviewer took notice. “Step one will be a scheduled interview and I’ll ask you every little question a real couple would know about each other.”

That was easy. You already knew way too much about the man. He shoved off too much personal responsibilities onto you that he didn’t want to do. You even wrote his Christmas cards at this point.

“Step two, I dig deeper, I look at your phone records, I talk to your neighbors, interview your coworker.”

The two of you didn’t have a story. The two of you communicated often for work but they weren’t out to anyone. Well— technically the two of you didn’t have a relationship to be out about. You glance over at Ivar who didn’t bother to look back at you. He seemed so eerily calm while all you could do was panic.

You were pretty sure you missed something important by the time you glanced back to the interviewer. Did you miss his name? Did he even offer one? Your leg began to bounce again.

“If your answers don’t match up at every point. You will be deported indefinitely,” he looked at Ivar, “and you will have committed a felony. Punishable by a fine of 250,000 dollars and a stay of 5 years in federal prison.” His gaze turned to you and you froze.

The sound of your heart beating drowned out whatever the man said next. It didn’t take long for both men to notice. You were in too deep. You couldn’t do this! Why did you even bother agreeing?

“Y/N?” The interviewer asked.

You couldn’t handle prison. You never even got into a fight before in your life. You’ve seen prison shows, they’re always fighting. They’d eat you alive.

“Y/N, do you want to talk to me?”

Ivar elbowed you harsh but discreetly. His blue eyes were intense and it brought you back to your reality. You had already spent three years working for him. Another two at the company. Being fired wasn’t an option and you’ve been dying to get promoted since you came there. If you could pull it off... what’s three years on paper? You blinked and nodded your head.

“You do?”

“Wait no— I mean I don’t.” You took a deep breath and held it. This man had to see right through it from the moment he walked in.

“The truth is…” you glanced at Ivar, “we’re just two people who weren’t meant to fall in love. But we did. Six months ago. We weren’t going to come out to our coworkers, not until we didn’t think they’d judge us,” your face was red and you found yourself staring down into your lap as you played with your fingers. “Especially with my promotion coming up.”

You paused, trying to see if what you said convinced him at all. “So, have either of you told your parents about your… secret love?” The interviewer wrote down notes onto a notepad.

“Oh, um, impossible. My parents are dead,” you admitted casually with an awkward laugh. “No brothers or sisters either. You can check if you want—“

“I will.”

The silence was deafening.

“What about you, Ivar? Are yours dead?”

Ivar scoffed at the mention of his family. It was clear to you that on some level he truly thought he was above being here. How could he be so casual?

You decided to cut in, “no. We were going to tell them this weekend. It’s his father’s birthday. The whole family is coming together. We thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

Once the lies began it was hard to stop them. But the event was true but Ivar’s attendance wasn’t. He had you tell them he wasn’t going. But as you spoke you got more confident.

“And where exactly is this going to take place?” The man was quizzing you.

“Aalborg, Denmark. It’s located along Kattegat Bay,” you replied. Ivar’s face twitched in surprise that you knew it at all. Your face never quite calmed down and kept a pinkish hue.

The interviewer stared intently at you, searching for signs.

“That’s right,” Ivar cut in, trying to save you.

“Isn’t Denmark a little far?”

“Well it’s not like I have a visa to lose at this point,” Ivar rolled his eyes.

The interviewer shrugged. “Next Friday at 10am, I expect you both to be here for the scheduled interviews.”

—

“What was your fucking problem? You may as well have worn a sign that we’re trying to commit a felony?”

You were floored. Did he actually want to start things off like this. “Like you were much better? You looked pissed off and detached! If you wanted better results maybe you should’ve interjected more.”

“It was fun to watch you flounder until I realized your actions have consequences,” he shrugged casually. What was wrong with him? “And now Mr. Harold Millington is going to be lurking through my family.” Oh that’s what the man’s name was. Had it shared that? Did you actually miss it?

“Just tell your family then. Have them lie.” If they were anything like Ivar then being manipulative should be in their nature.

Ivar rubbed the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “They wouldn’t agree to it.” It meant they had to go. That created the new fact that you had sentenced the both of them on a trip to Denmark. It was that or he gets sent home forever and you’re in federal prison. “How did you even know that?”

“Know what?”

“About my father’s birthday.”

“You had me send them condolences,” you crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes. “I actually know a ton of things about you. It’s you who has a week to learn everything about me.”

He stood before you in his bitterness. He didn’t deny your statement. It was one thing to have marriage papers and never speak of it again for three years and another to pretend to his family that he was in an actual relationship. His mor had wanted it forever now. “Book the flights, since you’re so used to doing everything for me.”

You had a laundry list of people to contact and he expected you to book flights? Your gut instinct was to tell everyone the truth and convince them to lie to the authorities, but that seemed a little much to ask. “It’s your home, why don’t you book them?”

The two of you continued to bicker when the interviewer from earlier stepped out of the building. The two of you immediately silenced as Millington walked by, “remember. Deportation and federal prison. It’s not too late to come clean.”

The smug look on his face pissed you off. You watched the man walk further away and down the block. “I may not like you, Ivar, but I like you more than that guy,” you said bitterly as your eyes remained trained on the agent in the distance.

“At least we agree on that.”

“I want him to feel like a moron.”

“So then let’s do that,” Ivar’s words caught your attention as you glanced back to him. “He knows the truth but if we make it rock solid he’ll have no choice. It’ll drive him insane.”

You laughed, “I probably should’ve guessed your favorite pass time was belittling people and making them regret their life choices.”

“I liked you better when you just delivered coffee,” Ivar responded. The same anger from earlier was gone but that didn’t stop Ivar from starting to walk away from you. You were left standing, irrationally angry at that decision. Civilities were out the window. He had nothing over you anymore. Neither could pull the plug. And he’s been on your nerves for a while. How did you ever find that man attractive?

“Goodbye to you too, asshole!”

—

“I’m coming back for the week,” Ivar held the phone to his ear, waiting for his mother’s response. If he was being honest he was actually a little nervous about it. He actually loved his mother. The rest of them were hit or miss. But he hadn’t been back home in a long time.

“Really?”

The excitement in her voice got to him, not that he’d confess it. “I was going to introduce my girlfriend to you guys.” He hated lying.

“You have a girlfriend?” He hadn’t even mentioned the idea of one to her in forever. Not since he left Denmark for the last time. She’d been pestering forever. “Since when did you get a girlfriend?”

“Mor—“ he took a deep breath and sighed, “she works for me.”

“Oh— so it’s one of those situations.”

Was she judging him already? “Just be prepared for her.” He noticed the dip in her voice and he bit hard on his bottom lip.

“Your father is going to be so happy to have you home.” Aslaug started to talk more about it. He was surprised she wasn’t fuming at the mention of his old man. It occurred to him then that maybe his family missed him more than he realized. She was already making plans, doting on him for finding someone and talking about how relieved she is that her son found someone. “Hey Ivar— is she beautiful?” He was brought out of his thoughts by the question.

Were you? He already knew the answer. You were. It wasn’t a crazy thought. Ivar always thought you were beautiful. From the moment you walked into his office the first day holding a cup of his favorite coffee— how you ever found out before meeting him he’ll never know. It’s what told him you were beyond him. There was a hint of too much perfection that he had immediately felt anger. That anger eventually settled to annoyance.

But if he actually hated you he probably would’ve fired you by now. The issue is that you’d never genuinely go for him. He had his own love life of sorts, money speaks for itself, he could get laid. What he couldn’t get was more, who would genuinely date him? It was easier to resent than pine.

“Yes.”

Aslaug laughed on the other end, “you took a little long there to respond, Ivar.”

“Sorry— she is, mor, I’m just busy with some work. I’ll call you before the plane leaves.”

“Please do. Oh, and Ivar, dear. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

—

Taglist** @youbloodymadgenius

#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless #Vikings #the proposal #I feel like it’ll have to start picking up soon #but I kinda like some moments #I really woke up at 5pm today huh....

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ad1thi · 3 years

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2020 fic recs!! [Part 1]

this idea was stolen from @iam93percentstardust cuz i just,,,thought that this year was absolute shit and it would be nice to make a fic rec list of fics from this year that helped me through it. this will be over a range of fandoms and ships, but all fics were written this year.

fics are ordered by the month they were published. ive tried to keep to five fics per month, but this is not obviously all the fics ive read that month - i just didn’t want to make this insanely long.

im releasing the first half of this on the 1st of December, and the second half on the 1st of January 2021 - because otherwise it would just get so long (and also so i will actually have fics for December)

happy reading!! hopefully you find fics on this you haven’t read yet

***

January

The cat is mighty dignified (until the dog comes by): @five-wow

Steve and Danny find them on the pillow in the corner of the dining area, where Eddie is on his side, ass half on the floor because the pillow is more cat-sized than lab-sized, and Pickles is nestled between Eddie’s front legs, essentially being spooned and looking very I-got-the-cream about it. Pickles’ head is tucked into the crook of Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s head slots perfectly on top of Mr. Pickles’, like a furry jigsaw puzzle.

“They’re cuddling,” Steve points out, unnecessarily.

Or: There is a love story unfolding under the McGarrett roof.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America: @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.

Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again.

The Best Laid Plans (Of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

Fourteen Million to One: @tunastorks

Six months after Thanos, six months after Tony’s death, six months after Steve returns to his own timeline, Tony Stark turns up on their doorstep.

Brewed Awakening: @iam93percentstardust

Two years after he comes out of the ice, Steve is drifting through life. On his teammate's recommendation, he decides to go back to school where he meets the grandson of an old friend. He finds happiness with Tony but Steve won't be in Boston forever and someone is out to hurt the Starks. Will Steve and Tony be able to reach their happily ever after?

February

the young, the reckless and the foolish: @bruciewayne

In most universes, they don't know each other, not in the slightest, or they hate each other, in a way that's perfectly logical for anyone who were to find themselves in a similar situation.

In this one, they've known each other since they were four years old and naively idealistic.

This is them over the years, against the odds.

a giant sign: @areiton

“Think you can get him to open the weapons division up again?” his CO asks, his voice hungry and Rhodey laughs because this--

“No. Tony hung up his weapons.”

“That’s not what the suit says,” his CO objects, and Rhodey shrugs.

Tony has always had rules, rules he expects the entire world to live by.

And then there was Rhodey, slipping under them.

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast: @nethandrake

Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual.

He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either.

What is unusual is that the stranger is silent.

(One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Just A Cold: @/delighted

There’s a new text waiting for him. It’s from Steve of course, and it’s vaguely threatening as most messages from Steve are these days. Still Danny ignores it, and now he’s really playing with fire. Maybe it’ll burn the cold out of him.

Or, Danny’s sick, and Steve can’t stay away. The usual comfort fluff. With a little cameo from a gently meddling Grace.

An Unexpected Guide: @/Rachel500

Danny Williams has hidden his Guide status to keep being a detective, but his time of hiding is up when he unexpectedly finds his Sentinel, Steve McGarrett in the midst of a tragedy.

March

Why don’t we (Collide the spaces that divide us): @five-wow

When they finally catch sight of each other again through the milling crowds, they’re both a little worse for wear. Danny’s left side is covered in glitter and every time he brushes a hand over his hair, more blue and purple confetti rains down. Steve is- Well, Steve is randomly shirtless, which is all things considered not excessively remarkable, but he’s also covered in smudges of colorful paint and has a very nicely printed bloodred lipstick kiss mark on his cheek.

“What did you do?” Danny asks, because it looks like Steve had a lot more fun than he did.

Or: Steve and Danny accidentally end up in the middle of something entirely new.

A Little Unsteady: @finduilasclln

Written for the Tumblr prompt meme : "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

Tony lashes out at Bucky for eating his dessert. Only, it really isn't about the dessert.

a national treasure: @starklysteve

Steve isn't looking for an apple and Tony decides his passion is to inspire young souls. -x- OR: the AU where Tony is a Youtuber and Steve is Captain America and somehow they still save the world together.

April

cycle through: @ambivalentmarvel

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Stark disappeared from his family home a month after the tragic deaths of his parents, Howard and Maria Stark, leaving a billion-dollar tech conglomerate without an heir and the world wondering what happened.

Twenty-three years ago, HYDRA gained another super soldier.

Ten years ago, Peter Parker’s parents died in what is ruled as a home invasion gone wrong but he knows was murder, plain and simple, because he spoke to the killer.

And in the present, Project Insight fails, and the Iron Soldier pays the price.

FOREVER-LOVE YOU-I: @/Eudoxia

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

Especially for Tony's soulmate.

Companion piece to my fic Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended. This is Steve's POV, with a few extra scenes, as a treat.

(Edit: Sorry if you guys get multiple notifications for this. I just realized (about two hours after posting it) that I fucked up the grammar in the title and I HAD to fix it. YOLO, I guess.)

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

i don’t have a choice (but i’d still choose you): @nethandrake

There’s a name inked onto his chest, a name written in an all-too familiar scrawl. And it’s— It’s—

Steve doesn’t realize his body is quaking until he’s tracing the tattoo with a shaky finger.

Because of course that is the name etched into the skin. Like a brand, a reminder for everything he has done. An appropriate retribution.

Anthony Edward Stark.

(When Thanos snaps half of the universe away, he unknowingly leaves the other half with soulmarks.)

ua haʻalele ʻoe iaʻu (a ua hoʻomālamalama ʻoe iaʻu): @just-fandomthings

"The truth is, I was shot in the chest and nearly died, and not even three days after I was released from the hospital, you up and left-- and of those two, I'm not sure which one hurt me worse!"

(Coda to 10x22 because come on, we all need a better ending than the one given to us.)

Title loosely translates to: "You left me in the dark (you lit me up)" -- inspired by the brilliant song "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur

May

A Piece Of The Past: @hddnone

It had been so many years since Bucky had gone undercover in the Stark family's mob, he thought he'd gotten away clean.

Then Tony Stark slid into the seat across from him at his breakfast diner, and Bucky's boss has a new case for him.

the privilege of loving you: @starklysteve

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

your pillow feels so soft now (but still you must advance): @firebrands

When Bruce is 13, he decides to go to boarding school. It's an opportunity for him to learn about other people, and how to interact with them.

Bruce has the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark upon his arrival in Roxbury. Bruce is moving into his room, and Tony opens the door of his room to watch. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, hair wild and eyes bright. Bruce has never seen a boy like him before—handsome and confident.

Bruce doesn’t like it.

IMPORTANT: This fic has them meeting at 14, then progresses slowly until they’re 17. Includes underage drinking and kissing.

This is set before Bruce becomes Batman and Tony becomes Iron Man and I have no explanation as to how or why they just DO Canonically, Bruce is 17 when he finishes school and goes around the world to train, so we're sticking with that

The Real MVP: @sword-and-stars (part of a series)

[“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry.

Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”

Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.

It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone and it’s amazing.]

Or,

Sokka knows a guy, gets laid, and introduces Zuko to the merits of an afternoon delight.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it): @riotwritesthings

There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch.

And one tiny little bed.

June

Nice Fingers: @anthonyed

A single compliment given by Tony stirs Bucky restless until he caves in and asks him out on a date.

With Steve’s help of course (whether he likes it or not).

The Darkest Touch: @starkrogerrs

This is the story of how Steve finds that it has been ordained that he is to marry a monster he cannot resist aka the God of Love himself, Tony.

It's Cupid x Psyche retold, but with thrice the amount of porn.

The Night Shift: @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Wind Beneath My Wings: @iam93percentstardust

Sam first meets Tony Stark in 2005 when he joins the EXO-7 Falcon program.

In jest: @/apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

#adi's rec list #mcdanno #stevetony #buckytony #brucetony #rhodeytony #zukka #samtony #january - june #there's so many different ships on this #and different authors #and it spans three fandoms #so hopefully you guys enjoy this!!

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maruzzewrites · 3 years

Text

(Every breathe you) Take #1

Hello! This is what was supposed to be the April’s Fool fic but I didn’t write it in time. It’s an Actor AU in the “universe” of EBYT. All nice and cool. Not real content warnings.

You looked down at your car’s clock. It was barely late afternoon, maybe he was in class. You let the phone fall onto the passenger’s seat, and continued to drive.

“Cut!”

The director shouts. Your shoulders go lax and the tension melts over your back, making you slump over the fake car seat. You stretch as everyone around starts to walk around, taking props and placing them outside the set. You climb out and look around to see your fellow actors, all gathered somewhere just outside the current scene.

You try to catch up with them, but you are stopped halfway. You almost trip over some cables on the ground when your manager calls you. She rushes to grab your arm, and you can see the burning desire to reprimand how clumsy you can be. She decides against it, yanking you straight and clearing her throat.

“You remember you got an interview today, right?” Her question is simple and, luckily, you do remember. Having an acting role is a new thing to you, especially with the role of the protagonist, and you did mess up a bit at the start. You are so used to minor roles or filling other positions around the set that you needed a bit to pick up the pace.

“Of course,” you answer. You see she is about to speak again, you even know about what: you need to plan what to say and what to omit during this interview. But you really don’t want to think about it, not with the filming being finished for the day. You will catch up later, “I will see you later. I need to do something…”

Before she can protest, you march away towards your colleagues. They’re now outside the building to allow some of them a quick smoke break, and they welcome you in their little circle without any problem. You look at each of them, and you find it hilarious how similar they are to their own characters – without the threatening auras, of course.

“So,” you cross your arms, “do you guys know what to say in this interview?”

“Excuse me,” One of the reporters raises his hand, a pen between his fingers. You look up at him and ask him to ask whatever he wants. He grins, “Thank you. So, can you tell us anything more about the idea behind this show?”

“Well,” you start and look around the other actors to see if someone wants to speak instead. No one even attempts, so it’s in your hands, “I was said it was supposed to be about normalcy and what it means in a dangerous place. The director has experience with people who are called not so legally to clean at strangers’ houses and wanted to show it more.”

The reporter thanks you for the answer, even seems to want to ask one more, but someone else jump on the occasion to inquiry, “Did you choose it because of the premise? It seemed like a difficult role for a new actor.”

You think about it a bit, “I liked the premise. It’s dark and I don’t know if I can fake falling in love more than being scared. These goons make it rather easy, too.”

You point at them with your thumbs; some of them chuckle, some of them roll their eyes, some seem more embarrassed than anything. You hope you haven’t offended them too bad – it’s not your fault they really look rather menacing at times.

“Means we are good actors,” Formaggio chimes in, grinning like a fox. He turns to you and points a finger, “You too. Sometimes I really think we are intimidating you. The first time you saw Risotto, you looked like you saw a ghost.”

Some of the people in the room giggle at that, while Risotto pouts a little at the observation. The poor man can’t help his appearance or his size, and you came to understand he is one of the calmest and nicest people in that group. To avenge him of this direct insult, you decide to tease Formaggio a bit, “Look who’s talking. You’re the one who looks like he belongs in an actual gang, here.”

The joke makes even the imperturbable Prosciutto crack a smile, along with the sneer from Illuso at Formaggio’s frown. You even see the next reporter barely contain a laugh when she raises her had to speak, “You seem to get along quite well. Do you find it interesting to work with your colleagues on this project?”

The question is general, but you figure you talked enough for all of them. When a second too much of silence lingers, Melone is happy to jump in, “I enjoy it quite a bit! I barely get the opportunity to work with people who are so funny.”

“Really?” Ghiaccio almost yells, before he can reign in his tone. His inside voice is still loud, but it borders a stage whisper, “Because you’re really annoying during breaks. You say the most inane things and we’re supposed to just take it.”

Melone smiles, affable, “As I said, funny. You’re all entertaining. I get why you would become actors!”

Someone in the public clears his throat and then stands up to speak. Doesn’t really wait for his turn, but no one seems to mind besides turning around in their seats to look at him. He asks, “How did you come to accept your parts? You seem like a very varied bunch.”

The others look at each other, then Prosciutto takes the stage, “Formaggio tried for the role before us, then told us about the auditions. I assume we were just the right fit for the characters.”

The reporter nods and then looks at you with expectation. You don’t have quite the same story to them, “I… I just wanted to try for a big role, for once. I was told I had the face for the story, even if now I knows it means being somewhat average.”

A bit of an awkward silence before someone – Melone, specifically – intervenes, “I don’t think you are average or plain. You just give a friendly vibe.”

You smile at him just when Illuso decides to speak up, “That’s a nice way to say homely.”

He gains a light punch in the arm since he is sitting right next to you, which makes him chuckle and pretend to fall over on his chair. Ghiaccio, sitting at his other side, shoves him almost violently when they are close to touching. Risotto tells them to calm down.

“Do you have anything to tell us about the future of the show?” A reporter takes advantage of the ruckus to ask before anyone else can. He looks at every actor for a handful of seconds each before elaborating, “Fans really want to know what’s coming up in the near future.”

You ponder on answering that one question. You don’t let anyone chime in before you take your decision, explaining, “I don’t think we can reveal too much, but what’s coming is probably obvious. You know about stories with gangs. There may be something surprising to it, maybe.”

The reporter nods and waits patiently. You just shoot him a kind smile and you can almost see the disappointment coloring his face. You were told not to speak too much about the future plot, direct orders from the director and your manager – who was very eager to let you know how much you needed to shut your mouth.

The reporter evidently knows when to drop it because he doesn’t prob further. The rest of the interview goes smoothly, with jokes and teasing, with answered questions. People are really curious about the show despite being so grim, but you appreciate the fans.

At the end of the whole thing, you wonder what you will read the following days in online articles from those reporters.

“Have you seen the new theories? People are really quick to take every ounce of info they can get from exclusives.” Melone scrolls his phone right before leaving it inside the pockets of his jacket, ready to put on his outfit.

You hum in response, too busy rereading the script for the episode. You hope you will finish quickly so that you go somewhere and eat with your colleagues – it’s been a while since your last lunch together. It may or not be because you end up giggling during the most tense scenes, during the first few takes.

Melone leaves you alone, wishing you good luck for the first scene of the day. You take a deep breath and replay it in your mind, trying to visualize it.

Going back home after a stressful day. After having to play a game of cat and mouse with dangerous men, wanting nothing more than a doll in their hands. You feel the tension harden your muscles, your shoulders and back stiff with anxiety.

You are a cleaner dealing with something too big for you, and you return to that house.

#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #la squadra #la squadra esecuzioni #reader insert #actor au #something short and sweet instead of the usual pain and anxiety

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chimchimsauce · 4 years

Text

The Hills

The Hills have eyes

A commission for darling @illnevertrustmyselfagain

Thank you for your patience! Commissions are open

A steady stream of sweat sticks YN’s thin T-shirt to her back and her hair to her forehead as she struggles under the weight of one of her moving boxes. It’s not all that heavy, but it's incredibly large and awkward to hold against her as she makes her way up the stairs. Finally, she sees the light at the end of the tunnel (or rather hallway) and steps foot into her brand new apartment, setting the box down immediately.

“Is there anything else you need, ma’am?” One of the burly movers YN hired asks her, sweat heavy upon his brow.

She’d brought the last box up herself, wanting to have the personal honor of finishing moving herself in.

“No,” she shakes her head, breathless from her own hard work, “That’s everything. Thank you, guys.”

She tips the men generously, knowing that it must have been extra difficult to move all of her furniture up the many flights of stairs in her new apartment building.

Now, all alone, YN can finally take a good look at it. ‘Apartment’ doesn’t quite seem to fit this new place. It’s massive - room after room with tons of space to put any and everything she could ever need inside of it. A small smile graces her face.

She’s done it. This is all her. Working every single day for the past eight years and dumping all of her time and energy into her startup has truly paid off. She may have missed out on so-called rites of passages and her relationships have certainly suffered, but she’s done it!

That little startup that began in her childhood bedroom when she was in eleventh-grade grew to something so massive that investors sniffed around in record time. Soon enough, someone gave her a number bigger than she would have ever imagined and the decision to sell was easy. YN had given her company the very best she had, but now it’s time to move onto something new.

But before she decided to dedicate her life once again to a passion project, YN makes the choice to step away for a bit and enjoy her newfound wealth by moving to the richest neighborhood in Seoul - Hannam the Hill. The security ensures that she doesn’t have to worry about anything and the location offers her proximity to everything she’d ever want to do.

And speaking of location, YN drags her exhausted body to one of the many massive windows in her apartment, looking out and seeing the evening Seoul skyline. Buildings taller than anything she’s ever seen stand tall and proud like soldiers, their lights bright like her future. The businesswoman goes to bed with a grin on her face, her dreams full of lights that shine like stars.

Within a week of moving in, YN is more or less unpacked. All of her meager wardrobe has been placed in her massive closet and her dishes all unpacked, barely filling a single cabinet in the kitchen.

“Well that won’t do,” she says to herself, looking at her mostly empty-looking apartment.

In the past she spent the vast majority of her time at the office working, so her house was of little consequence She never even hung anything up on her walls. But now, now she finally has the chance to relax, to indulge and fill her life with color.

Grabbing her keys off of the hook by her door, YN decides that now’s as good a time as any to blow some money. She shrugs on a light jacket and heads out. Excitement drums through her veins and pep is in her step. For a moment, she’s in her own world, completely oblivious to everything around her.

That obliviousness leads her to run smack into a small, thin figure, nearly knocking the person off of their feet.

“Oh! Sorry about that!” she says, continuing on her way without questioning the person’s masked face too much.

She knows the Hill’s security is top-notch, so they’re certainly someone who lives here or otherwise has permission to be here.

Annoyed and exhausted, Yoongi glares at the retreating figure, trying to figure out if he’s seen that rude person before. Her face doesn’t seem the slightest bit familiar, so he guesses she must be the new neighbor who moved in a few days ago. Shoving his hands deep in his pocket he finds his keys and heads inside, not even making it to his bed before falling asleep.

Meanwhile, YN steps foot into the parking garage. Her car is fresh off the lot, that new car smell still clinging to her seats. She sets her GPS for the nearest furniture store and pulls away.

YN stays away from leather and white. Those were all her life had been - empty white walls and uncomfortable chairs and couches. She moves through the store slowly, analyzing each and every piece of furniture before settling on a bright yellow couch. It’s loud and undeniably eye catching, something she never would have even thought about buying before.

But now . . . the black card is burning in her pocket.

An hour or two later something of every color under the sun has been charged onto her card, destined to be delivered and put together in her home in just a few days.

And boy oh boy, does it feel good!

YN could swear the world is brighter when she leaves, walking through the streets of Seoul, boutique shops and fancy cafes lining her on each side. She comes to a stop when she sees an especially fascinating looking store and raises her hand to pull open the handle but stops when she hears a small whimper.

For a moment, YN thinks she’s making something up, but the sound comes once more. She pulls away from the storefront and peeks into the alley next door, carefully making her way down the near-empty valley. The whimper comes again and YN crouches down to open a sad looking box.

There, inside, a small shivering puppy is balled up into himself, not even looking at YN. She feels her heart break. Gently, she lifts the small animal up, clutching it close to her chest and rushing towards her car, looking for the nearest vet.

Yoongi isn’t sure when the last time he left his house was. He’s been working nonstop, constantly leaning over his computer to write and compose. His work was easy initially, but Yoongi has been stuck on this bridge for only God knows how long now.

He sighs, pushing away from his desk to stand and stretch, ignoring the way his body screams out in pain and his bones creak. Chip bags and crushed beer cans litter the ground, Yoongi shuffling through the mess without bothering to pick any of them up.

Sunlight nearly blinds him when he steps into his living room. He tosses his arm over his eyes as spots swarm his vision, nausea bubbling up inside of him quickly.

Damn. He’d forgotten to close them last time he’d been out here.

Once he can finally look ahead without his vision looping he shuffles into his kitchen, plugging in his coffee maker and impatiently waiting for it to brew. The window his counter is pressed against to looks out over a park. Bored, he actually glances out for once, people in the distance not aware of the multimillionaire looking at them.

At first, he doesn’t see anything of interest, just the usual stiff-necked people wearing the absolute wrong thing to the park. But then, faster than light, a small creature dashes across the massive green space, a woman chasing after it. Yoongi thinks that maybe someone’s dog has run away, but it soon becomes evident that it’s some sort of game, as the dog starts to yip happily when the woman catches up with him.

A small smile makes its way onto Yoongi’s face as he watches them but it falls soon after. When was the last time he’d done something as simple as enjoyed a day at the park with his dog?

The coffee machine whirs to a stop but Yoongi doesn’t grab it, too lost in his own thoughts. It’s been how long since he broke up with his band mates and gone solo? Three years? Four? He honestly doesn't know. While at first, Yoongi had been all to happy to leave his twenties behind and move forward with his career as a producer and occasional soloist, it soon set in how terribly lonely such a decision made him.

He’s much too well known to simply stroll about how he could when he was a teenager, just another face in an endless stream of people with dreams. But once he reached that dream - once the words “Min Suga” were on every tongue across the globe, he realized that it wasn’t what he wanted at all.

He loved music and success but he hated always being in the limelight without a shred of privacy and under the constant creative censorship of millions of people. So when it once again became time to resign their contracts, Yoongi took a step back even though the others begged him to stay.

Yoongi remembers that day vividly. The look of shock and betrayal as Yoongi said that he wished he’d never even joined BTS, never even pursued the path to idoldom. It was all lies but he’d been feeling so overwhelmed that he just wanted everything to stop for once. Stop the cameras and stop the screaming fans each time he stepped foot out into public.

And so seven became six . . .

But it didn’t last long. Less than six months later the three youngest members decided to leave for military service together and they just never came back. Their sudden departure caused a media uproar and several lawsuits, but the boys had made more than enough money to sweep them under the rug. And then there were three. That didn’t last much longer at all.

Within a year of Min Yoongi leaving BTS, the entire group disbanded.

Yoongi sighs, reaching for his cup and tearing his eyes from the window. He doesn’t deserve such joy, not after he destroyed the only real familial bond he’d ever had. He hasn’t talked to the other members (Ex-members, he reminds himself) since he walked out on him.

Usually, Yoongi is able to create beats with very little inspiration, but lately, that same tiredness from before has sprung up inside of him, leaving him with nothing but pure garbage and terrible posture.

He desperately needs a new muse, but at this rate, he doesn’t think he’ll ever find one.

Pitying himself, Yoongi drags his feet all the way into his office, once more shutting the world out.

Within two months of living in her new apartment, YN can confidently say that her life has never been better. She’s never been so stress-free and relaxed. All this free time has her diving into new hobbies every chance she gets. While most of them don’t stick for more than a few days (Is it really a surprise that sewing isn’t her thing?) she has fallen head over heels in love with baking.

For most of her teenage and early adult years, YN lived purely off of takeout food, never once lifting an arm to cook something for herself or bake a treat. Really, it wasn’t her fault. She was always in and out of meetings, drafting new business ideas, and making trips. She just didn’t have the time! And while she is absolutely awful at most of her new hobbies, YN’d taken to baking like a fish to water.

She enjoyed it so much that she’d quickly overbaked for herself, somehow coming to be surrounded by dozens of cupcakes, muffins, pies, and every other sweet thing imaginable. So, freshly made treats in hand, YN began to introduce herself to her neighbors.

While she is phenomenal at meeting people in a business setting, going over to her incredibly rich and sophisticated neighbors’ homes had been a bit anxiety-inducing. YN has never been great at making friends, but she was pleasantly surprised how kind the other people of the hills have been. Multi millionaires tend to be portrayed as stuck up, but YN now has a few friends she meets up with for weekly coffee gossip sessions. While she doesn’t really have much to add to their conversations, it’s nice just to be included.

At this point she’s met pretty much everyone on her floor, everyone except . . .

YN has never seen her next door neighbor leave their apartment. Whoever they are, they never make so much as a peep. It’s almost as if the apartment is completely empty. YN even asked her new friends about it, but they claim that someone has lived there for over three years now.

That once buried anxiety flares up once more as YN finds herself standing in front of his door, apartment number 613. She lifts her hand up to knock politely, hip supporting a large basket of muffins. She hadn’t made this many for her other neighbors, but something about the mystery of this one had her tossing in a few extra for good measure.

No one answers.

YN tries one more time and again there is not a single sound.

Just as she’s about to turn around with her hypothetical tail tucked between her legs the door creaks open ever so slightly. She can’t even see who is behind the door.

“Oh! Hello!” YN says, a little shocked, “I”m YN. I moved in next door about two months ago.”

Silence.

“I . . . um . . . I made muffins,” YN says, thrusting the basket towards the door.

Once again, the person doesn’t say anything. Unsure if she’s creeped out, embarrassed, or some awful combination of both, YN begins her retreat.

“Ah, well, I’ll just leave these here!” She manages to say, setting the basket down and hastily making it back to her own apartment, nearly slamming the door shut behind her.

What was that? What had just happened?

Just a few yards away, Yoongi stands in his own home, looking at the muffins his neighbor left outside his door. He never opens his door all the way, fearful that some old sasaeng would have found him out. But when he saw that it was her - the woman he’s been watching at the park almost every day, he didn’t know what to do.

For the first time in years, Yoongi felt a jolt of something running through his veins. She always looks so happy and full of life that Yoongi can’t help but feel intrigued by her. Hesitantly, Yoongi peeks out and plucks the basket up, bringing it inside.

His kitchen is bare of anything but empty wrappers, so the basket of freshly baked goods looks incredibly out of place.

Yoongi’s stomach growls, so he picks up one of the muffins, pleasantly surprised to find that it’s still warm. Before he knows it, he’s eaten six muffins, all of them delicious. When he retreats to his studio once more, a soft, sweet melody is in his brain.

He composes a song for the first time in months.

The next day, as YN prepares to go on her daily walk with her puppy Sugar, a small piece of paper slips under her door. Sugar is eager to check it out, sniffing it with abandon. YN, laughing at Sugar’s adorable antics, struggles to get the paper away from him without ruining it.

YN,

I apologize for my odd behavior. I wasn’t feeling well yesterday and thus acted rudely. The muffins you made were delicious and made me feel leaps and bounds better. If you feel up to it, would you like to go to dinner with me? I’d love to make it up to you.

Thanks again,

MYG

MYG? Is that her neighbor’s name? YN recalls her friends saying that the person next door is a near complete recluse. Dinner? Should she go?

YN clicks Sugar’s leash to his collar, throwing a look over her shoulder as she leaves her apartment to head to the park, unaware of the man peeping through his door.

Sure. Do you have any restaurant recommendations? There are still plenty of places I haven’t gone to. Here’s my number XXXXXXXXX

Yoongi is more than shocked by the letter under his door when he emerges from his studio after cleaning up his latest song. That adrenaline rush he’d gotten from YN’s treats has worn off somewhat and inspiration has fallen quickly. He finished the first song in a breeze, but he began to struggle again with the second.

SO why not get to know her better? Best case scenario, YN provides more inspiration. Worst case, she’s a psychopath.

He doesn’t think the second one is very likely, but he’s still hesitant, choosing to go to a restaurant he’d been a regular in for quite some time. Yoongi books out a room in the back and texts YN the details, setting their meeting for the weekend.

When the day finally rolls around, Yoongi is more nervous than he has been in a long time. What if she recognizes him? Or worse, what is she stands him up altogether?

His fears are squashed when he sees her standing on the sidewalk, dressed too simply for the restaurant he booked.

“Hello,” Yoongi says, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide how nervous he is, “You’re YN right? I’m Min Yoongi, your neighbor.”

“Oh!” she says, brightening up and sticking her hand out to greet him, “It’s nice to meet you!”

He takes her hand in his, squeezing it gently and pretending not to notice the shivers that shoot through him.

“This is the place right?” she asks, taking her hand back and brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Actually,” Yoongi says, noticing the odd looks YN is getting based on her everyday outfit, “I was just going to pick food up here and then head to the park, if that’s okay. It has a really clear view this time of night.”

“That sounds great!” YN says.

Yoongi, slightly frantic with his new lie, heads up to the reservation counter and asks to speak to the manager, a close friend of his. A couple of hushed whispers later, Yoongi is given a bag of freshly cooked food, the producer not feeling even the slightest bit bad about taking someone else’s order.

“So . . . how have you been enjoying the Hills?” Yoongi asks as they stroll side by side to the park she always frequents.

They’re standing too far apart to be more than anything but acquaintances. Yoongi finds himself wishing she was closer so their arms would brush.

“It’s been really nice!” YN says enthusiastically, “Everyone has been so kind and it’s been so amazing to finally have time for myself.”

“Finally?”

“Oh!” YN remarks, “Yeah, I had a startup that just recently got sold. I decided to take a few months off before I began another business venture. What about you?”

The curiosity in her eyes tells Yoongi that YN truly has no idea who he is. He finds himself relaxing even more.

“I’m a producer, mainly. Sometimes I write songs as well,” he says shyly, stopping next to one of the picnic tables that sporadically dot the large park.

He sets the food down and sits opposite to her, leaving plenty of space between them.

“Really? That sounds so cool! I’d love to hear something you made one day.”

Her tone is nothing but polite but dread forms in Yoongi’s stomach. He hasn’t worked on many new projects at all and he doesn't think he has anything good enough to show this incredibly bright woman.

Yoongi’s face must betray his apprehension because YN backs off right away.

“It’s totally fine if you don’t want to share! When I was younger one of my cousins was really into art but she never showed anyone what she made. I get it, it can be really personal.”

“No!” Yoongi says a little too loudly, “I’d love to show you something. I was just surprised you asked.”

YN smiles and everything is right again. The rest of the night passes much too quickly for Yoongi’s tastes, but he leaves feeling more inspired than ever. For once, he actually cleans his entire apartment, preparing it for YN to come over. Bags and bags of trash are tossed away and candles are lit to rid the space of any lingering odors He takes extra care in preparing his studio, hiding all the evidence of months of frustration in drawers and sitting down with a melody stuck in his brain.

She visits a week later. YN is more than surprised how clean Yoongi’s apartment is. She has learned quite a lot about him through all the texts they’ve exchanged and he never rubbed her as a clean freak. Methodical? Sure. Not the best at expressing emotions? Definitely. But the cleanest person she’s ever met? That’s a new one.

Yoongi is a little dressed up when he answers the door. His smile is wide and almost childlike, adorable in a way that has YN smiling as well.

They make small talk over the treats she brought over (cookies this time) before Yoongi leads her to a large room in the back of the house.

It’s breathtaking. Expensive devices line every open surface of the studio, all gleaming under the overhead lights. The studio walls are lined with records even she can tell are rare, each encased in a glass frame. A large couch is pushed against one wall with a coffee table in front of it, tastefully decorated with magazines and small plants.

“This is amazing, Yoongi,” YN says, half breathless.

Yoongi can hear his own heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears at the way stars seem to have shifted into YN’s gaze.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, “Would you like to hear what I’ve been working on?”

He needs to work up the courage now before he comes up with an excuse to never show YN the song he’s been working on so diligently day in and day out.

“Of course!”

Yoongi had pulled an extra chair in front of his computer in advance and she takes a seat, waiting eagerly for Yoongi to pull up his masterpiece. His fingers shake ever so slightly as he pulls it up and presses play.

He doesn’t think he takes a breath during the entire three and a half minute long song. How could he? It’s not every day you show the love song to the woman you’ve been watching for almost two months.

“Yoongi,” YN says when it finishes.

He feels his heart clench.

“That was beautiful! Who’s it about?”

“Who?”

“It’s a love song right? Are you in love with someone?”

Her question is innocent but it sends Yoongi into a panic.

“Yeah, actually,” he says, looking at anyone but her, “You.”

For a moment everything is silent. Neither of them breathe.

“Oh,” YN says.

Yoongi never knew two letters could crush him.

“I’m flattered but . . . I don’t really see you as anything more than a friend . . .”

YN trails off, not exactly sure what to say. She’s never been the romantic type. She always figured she’d fall in love when it was time but that time certainly isn’t now. She’s just barely figuring out who she is herself. She doesn’t have space in her heart for anyone else.

“Ah . . . I wasn’t expecting you to . . . um . . .”

Yoongi stutters out words at random trying desperately hard to not make things any worse than they already are.

“Maybe I should go . . .” YN says.

She doesn’t wait for his answer, simply standing up and leaving, casting one more glance at the hunched over man behind her. Her red heels click against the floor, fading when she leaves the home.

For the next two weeks, Yoongi texts her constantly. YN can barely go ten minutes without her phone buzzing with an apology or an offer for lunch. If she felt bad about rejecting him at first, YN is glad she did now. He’s behaving obsessively and it’s beginning to creep her out. Finally, she’s had it altogether, sending him a curt message demanding he never talks to her ever again and blocking his number straight away.

For a time, everything seems okay. Min Yoongi leaves her life just as swiftly as he had entered it. She’s almost forgotten about it altogether, until she’s stuck in traffic one evening. YN is listening to the radio, head bopping mindlessly along to the beat of a song she doesn’t know. But then the chorus starts and the hair on her arm stands on end.

Really, is it strange to fall in love? Really, is it odd that I want more? You flew in just like a turtle dove, pure and sweet, I only wanted your love. Maybe I should have locked you away? Maybe I should have clipped your wings? Then at least I know you’d stay? Stay, forever here with me.

Normally, YN wouldn’t have paid it any attention, but something about the song is so eerie that she begins to get creeped out.

Another male voice joins the singer.

Sweet like cinnamon, bright as the sun, soft, so soft, I needed you to melt into me. Salvation came in a wicker basket and left in bright red heels. Maybe I should have had something better to say, maybe then, you wouldn’t have rushed away.

Ignorance is bliss, but baby you’re all I think about. I couldn’t ignore you if I tried, if I wanted to. Ignorance is bliss, baby, but euphoria lives next door.

The song fades and the host’s voice floats out afterward.

“That song was ‘Red Heels and Cinnamon’ by Dave Kim and Min Yoongi. This song has been the most popular song on the charts for weeks! The famed producer and songwriter hasn’t given the press much background on the story, simply commenting that it’s something close to his heart and that more songs with this new vibe will be releasing soon.”

Release they did. Hit song after Hit song comes out, each creepier than the one before. If YN was able to convince herself that the songs weren’t about her, they became impossible to ignore. Yoongi next released a song about a woman with aspirations and no room for love, followed by one about a man following the woman he loved to make sure she was okay. That song detailed the entire events of her day.

And finally, Yoongi released a song giving out YN’s phone number.

Having had more than enough of this nonsense, YN knocks on Yoongi’s door, leaving her blaring phone behind.

He cracks the door open again before swinging it wide, looking much too pleased to see her.

“YN? I thought you never wanted to see me again. What are you doing here?”

“I know what you’re doing. Cut it out,” she hisses at him.

“Cut what out?”

“All of the songs! And the stalking! I know you’re following me!”

YN clenches her sweater closer to her body, trying to comfort herself. Yoongi looks down at it.

“You should have gotten the red one. It suits you better.”

Chill crawls down YN’s back and her limbs go stiff.

“What do you want from me,” she whispers, unable to look him in the eye.

“I feel something different when I’m around you. I feel alive - more motivated than I’ve ever been. All I want is for you to feel that same way.”

“And if I don’t?” YN asks, daring to look at him.

He’s silent for a moment. Yoongi’s expression darkens.

“That new firm that hired you as a consultant? The CEO’s daughter is a long time fan of mine. He’d do anything to keep her happy. Even replacing you . . .”

“But I can -” YN objects.

“Get a new job? Oh, sure. But I don’t think anyone would want to hire you if they knew what you did on May sixteenth.”

YN’s blood turns to ice. There are only a few things YN isn’t proud of and getting kicked out of a bar and then arrested after starting a fight is on the very top of that list. Thankfully, she had some connections to get her out of any charges and had swept the entire thing under the rug. But if it gets out . . .

“It’s up to you. Why don’t you come inside and see what I’m working on?”

Yoongi leaves the door wide open and retreats inside.

Hesitantly, YN follows after him.

#network bangtan #yandere bts #yandere x reader #yandere yoongi #yandere au #bts yandere au

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