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purplephantomwolf · 5 months

Text

Love in Motion

Chapter Six

Synopsis: Lydia gets a wrong number text from Lando Norris.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately.

Warnings for this chapter: None

Previous Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five

Masterlist

April 25, 2022

3 pm

I sit down at my pc, feeling uncomfortable in my suit. I take a couple deep breaths, feeling anxious about this interview. I click join on the video call. “Hello,” I greet the interviewer.

“Hello, Lydia. My name is Jane,” the interviewer greets me.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m looking forward to interviewing you. Let me tell you a bit about myself. I am the head photographer at Red Bull Racing. In June, I will be stepping down because I will be going on maternity leave. I won’t be returning, so one of our other photographers, Jaxon, will be taking over. We need someone to replace Jaxon,” Jane explains. I nod along. “Tell me a little about yourself,” Jane requests.

“Well, I’ve been taking photos since I was a kid. I started when I was 10. I got into it because my grandpa was a photographer. He took portraits, and so I started out taking portraits. I then bridged over into taking action shots as my siblings got into sports,” I explain. Jane nods, smiling. It looks like she’s liking what I’m saying. We continue the interview for another 20 minutes.

“Well, I really like you and your work. Would you be able to come to the next race to meet the team? You’d be meeting the drivers and other photographers. We will pay for you to fly out. I want to see you in action before I make my final decision,” Jane asks.

“Yes, I am able to,” I answer quickly.

“If we decide to hire you, would you be able to relocate to England?” She asks.

“Yes, I would be able to,” I nod.

“Perfect! I shall email you the details of your ticket to the next race, which is Miami. I look forward to meeting you in person,” Jane responds.

“Thank you! I look forward to meeting you, too,” I grin. We say goodbye and end the call. I let out a loud shriek afterwards. “Oh my god!” I shriek. My phone vibrates, drawing my attention to it. I grab it to see a text from Luke.

Luke: Are you done with the interview? How did it go?

Me: I would say it went pretty freaking good. They want me to meet the team in two weeks and they want to see me in action!

Luke: That’s amazing!

Me: I know! I’m so excited, but I don’t want to get my hopes up.

Luke: I’m sure you’ll get it. Your photos are amazing.

Me: Thank you!

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

May 6, 2022

I step out of the cab, arriving at Hard Rock Stadium. “Lydia, over here,” I hear Jane’s voice call for me. I adjust my camera bag on my shoulder and look around for her. I make my way over to her when I spot her.

“Good morning, Jane,” I greet her. She smiles and says good morning before handing me a pass.

“This will get you into the paddock and garage all weekend. Do not lose it,” she emphasizes. I nod and put it around my neck. She leads me into the paddock and starts to show me around. “This is where we work when we’re not taking photos,” Jane explains, showing me an office. There’s two others in the office. “Guys,” Jane calls out. The two people stop working and look up at us. “This is Lydia, she is here for a trial weekend to see if she fits well with the team. Lydia, this is Jaxon and Amber,” Jane tells me.

“Hello, guys,” I smile, waving. Jane walks further into the room, and points to a desk.

“This is where you’ll be working for the weekend. You can set your camera down for now. Christian wants to meet you, he always meets with the candidates for jobs,” Jane explains.

“Christian?” I ask.

“Christian Horner,” Jane clarifies.

“Okay, sounds good,” I say, trying to pretend I’m not nervous. I set my camera down and follow after Jane to another office. She knocks on the door and I hear a voice telling us to come in.

“Christian, this is the best candidate for the photography position, Lydia. Lydia, this is Christian Horner,” Jane introduces us.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” I say, holding out my hand.

Christian shakes my hand. “No need for that sir business, it’s Christian,” he shakes his head, “I’ve seen some of your photos and they are beautiful.”

“Thank you, Christian,” I beam.

The door opens suddenly and we all turn to look at the new person. My eyes widen when I see that it’s Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez. “Ahh, guys. Come in, come in. Come meet Lydia. She’s here this weekend for a test run for the photography position,” Christian says, gesturing to me.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you guys,” I say, holding out my hand for them to shake. Both of them shake my hands.

“Do you have any photos you’ve taken to show us?” Max asks me. “You seem kind of young to be already at this position.”

I pull out my phone to show him some photos. “Yeah, I mean, I turn 21 in about two weeks. But I’ve been taking photos since I could hold a camera.” I hand him my phone and he starts scrolling through them.

“These are beautiful. You’re very talented,” Max compliments me. Checo, who is looking over his shoulder at the photos, nods in agreement.

“Thank you,” I grin, taking my phone back.

“We need to get going now,” Jane says. I wave bye to the three of them and follow after her. “That went well. I think Christian already likes you,” Jane tells me as we enter the office. I grin, nodding. “So, the plan is you’ll be with me all weekend. How this works is we assign different roles to each person. I take pictures of Max and Max’s side of the garage. Jaxon takes pictures of Checo and his side of the garage, and Amber just floats around taking pictures of whatever she can. If you are hired, you would take my spot of taking pictures of Max,” Jane explains to me.

“Okay, sounds good,” I grab my camera and follow Jane to the garage.

“We take pictures of anything and everything. We can get over 500 pictures a day. Once the day is done, we go through the pictures and compile the best ones in a folder so that social media can go through them and choose which ones to post,” Jane explains. I nod along. “You can wander around Max’s garage and our pit wall taking pictures of whatever you want,” she smiles, giving me a nudge, “I don’t expect you to be attached to my hip this weekend.” I nod and start to wander around the garage.

I take pictures of the pit crew warming up and practicing, the engineers inspecting the car or inspecting the data. I take pictures of whatever I can. Once Max enters the garage, I start to take pictures of him from a distance, not wanting to disturb him.

“You can get closer,” Jane says, appearing at my shoulder.

“I just don’t want to get in the way of his preparations. I’d feel more comfortable if I knew his routine, so I can keep a good distance but still get close,” I explain. She nods, a look of understanding on her face. “But I’m getting some good shots.” I say, starting to inch closer to Max. He must notice me out of the corner of his eye because he turns to me and shoots me a smile and a thumbs up. I quickly snap a picture of him doing that. I continue taking pictures of Max and his garage as he climbs into the car.

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

“Okay, let’s see what photos you’ve got,” Jane says, hovering over my shoulder. I open up the folder of my photos, and we start to go through them. “These are fantastic, Lydia,” Jane tells me, turning to face me. My face breaks out into a beaming smile. “I need to talk to Christian, but I think that I can have your contract all ready to go by the end of the night/tomorrow morning, if you are okay with that?” Jane smiles.

“Yes! I am definitely okay with that!” I say, nodding quickly.

“Perfect! You finish going through your photos, and I’ll go talk to Christian!” Jane cheers. Both Amber and Jaxon congratulate me with smiles. Jane leaves the room, and I turn back to the computer. I will have my major freak out later in my hotel room.

The door opens and we all turn to look, as Max enters the room. He strides over to me. “I heard you got hired. Considering you’re the one who’s going to be making me look good, I thought I’d come say congratulations, Congrats on the job,” Max smiles.

“Thank you,” I grin at him.

“Just make sure you get my good side,” he jokes.

“Which side is that? Your back side?” I joke back, not thinking before I speak. My eyes widen in horror when I realize what I said. I would’ve said something like that with friends back home. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know why I said that!” I start to gush apologies.

Max looks surprised, before breaking into laughter. “I have a feeling we’re going to get along great,” he says, giving me a fist bump. I let out a shaky laugh, glad that he’s not upset with me.

“Well, I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Have a good night,” Max says, backing out of the room.

“You too,” we all call after him. Jane enters the room with a stack of papers in her hand.

“This is your contract, you can spend the night reading it and return it tomorrow,” Jane hands me the papers.

“Thank you,” I pack the papers in my backpack. Jaxon and Amber wave good night and head out. I hang around the office for a couple more minutes, finishing up going through my photos. I upload the photos to the folder for the social media team and pack up my camera. “Have a good night, Jane,” I sling my backpack over my shoulder and grab my camera bag.

“Good night, Lydia. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jane looks up from her computer. I wave good night and leave the office. I pull out my phone to see a message from Luke.

Luke: How was meeting the team?

Me: I’d say it went well, considering I’m walking away tonight with a contract to read over. They loved the photos I took today.

Luke: Oh my god! That’s amazing, Lydia! I’m so happy for you!

Me: Thank you, Luke!

I arrive back at the hotel and enter my room. I throw my phone on the bed and set my stuff down. I grab the pillow and scream into it in excitement. “I got a job with Red Bull Racing!” I laugh, dancing around the room. My phone lights up and I grab it.

Luke: Can I see some of the photos you took today?

I chew on my lip as I contemplate sending him photos. I know he’ll immediately realize who I’m now working for when he sees the photos. I sigh and decide to send him photos.

Me: Sure! *Five images attached*

I nervously pace the room as I wait for his response. I don’t get a response for five minutes. But when I do, I’m afraid to open it. I finally give in when he starts spamming my phone with messages.

Luke: Those look amazing.

Luke: Hold on, those are Red Bull uniforms.

Luke: That’s the Red Bull garage.

Luke: That’s Max Verstappen.

Luke: YOU HAVE A JOB WITH RED BULL RACING?!

Me: I do. I’m taking over the position of taking pictures of Max.

Luke: Oh my god! That’s amazing! Congratulations!

Me: Thank you! I am so incredibly happy.

Luke: I am so happy for you.

Me: Thank you!

I grab my contract from my backpack and sit on the bed. I start reading through the contract, signing where it’s needed. By the time I’m done with the contract, it’s nearing 11 o’clock. I slide the contract into my backpack to return to Jane. I climb into bed, falling asleep.

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

Lando’s POV

I’m looking at the photos Lydia took today when it registers that the photos are of Red Bull employees in the Red Bull garage. “Holy shit! She’s here!” I shriek. I start pacing the room. I spam her with messages, congratulating her. She thanks me and I debate whether I want to meet her or not. I really want to meet her, but I don’t want to mess up what we have. I sigh, falling onto my bed. I decide to call Max because he met her today.

“Hello, Lando. Everything okay?” Max asks, answering his phone.

“Hey, Max. I have a question/need some advice,” I sit up.

“Alright, what’s up?” He asks me.

“Do you remember me telling you about Lydia?” I start off.

“Lydia? I don’t think you’ve mentioned a Lydia,” he hums.

“Maybe not by name, she’s the girl I told you guys about at the club about a month ago,” I explain.

“Oh yes! I remember now. What’s up? Did she find out she’s being lied to?” Max asks.

“No, she got a photography job today, and she might find out that I’m lying to her because of it,” I sigh.

“Hold on, you said her name was Lydia and she got a photography job today. Red Bull hired a girl named Lydia for a photography position today. Is she the same girl?” Max gasps.

“Yes, yes she is,” I admit.

“Oh my god,” he laughs, “This is amazing. You need to figure something out, mate. She’s a cool girl.”

“She is,” I agree, “I just wanted to ask what you think I should do.”

“Well, I don’t think she’ll freak out meeting you. She wasn’t afraid to joke around with me today. But she might get upset that she was lied to,” Max tells me.

I grin when hearing that she wasn’t afraid to joke around with Max. “Okay, thank you. I’ll probably wait until after the race to see if she wants to meet up,” I think aloud.

“Probably a good idea. But I’ve got to go to bed now. Good luck, Lando,” Max wishes me a good night and then hangs up.

I sigh, falling back into bed. “You probably messed up, Lando. Hopefully she won’t be too upset when she finds out,” I mumble to myself. I close my eyes, quickly falling asleep.

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Taglist: @copper-boom @ironmaiden1313 @ophcelia @lauralarsen

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 story #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris story #lando norris imagines #lando norris x oc #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fanfiction

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sgiandubh · 9 months

Note

I see from the comments of a post that you say you know who Jess is .... How much did you research into the fandom ? You had only watched outlander last year correct ? It was crazy times then..😔

Dear Inquisitive Anon,

My timeline with Outlander is as follows:

Circa 2014-2015, my mother went crazy with it. I watched Sassenach and saw Menzies and the car and C and thought "despite time travel, this is not for me". Forgot everything about it.

Circa 2020, during Quarantein (heh) tried to watch it again. Inexplicably stopped at Rent: I thought she was going to end up with McTavish and I felt cheated. And I was all over the place, at work. And for the life of me I could not concentrate on that plot. Forgot 90% about it.

End of August 2022, I see it insistently recommended by Netflix. Gave it a try. Hooked. Bewitched. Lost to reason. House a warzone. Week-ends spent in speculation.

Landed on Tumblr one or two months later. Read everything I could, shippers and Antis and even Miss Marple, trying to make sense of it. Seriously thinking about landing in here, very firmly on this side, since at least January 2023, but two things kept me back: a) my day job (not a problem, as I quickly realized) and b) the feeling of being very late and having nothing to say.

Then *urv published that real estate report and seeing all the lies got the best of me. I was in a cab and incredibly angry, as every time I see unfairness trying to win the day.

The next day, I was sending the first Anon to @bat-cat-reader. The rest is history.

#Anon

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deebeeus · 4 months

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No one: I REALLY want to see a Gibson Nighthawk. Me: You're welcome.

The absolute pride of the current retinue here at Casa DeeBeeUs™, my 1993 Nighthawk Custom CS-2. I picked it up just over a week ago, thanks to my buddy @timallard and @gearmusicoakville, and I have never enjoyed playing any guitar as much as I enjoy this one. It's perfect for me in every way.

Also making an appearance here, for the first time in well over a month: my 1970 Marshall Model 2022 Lead 20!

If you follow my amp tech, @marshalllespaulfan, you'll have seen this amp on his feed recently, as it was with him for servicing. Well not the amp per se...the amp was fine. It was the cabinet that needed servicing. I was foolishly carrying it down the stairs with the cable plugged into the back, and it hit the wall. *SNAP*, I broke the 1/4" jack right off inside the cabinet. Note to self: unplug cables before carrying cabs through tight spaces. 😭

Anyhoo: MLPF fixed it right up and it's good as new. And let me tell you, these two make a fearsome pair! 🤘😂

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dreamescapeswriting · 2 years

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Luck Is Finally Looking Up ~ MYG [Request]

⤜WORD COUNT: 4.1K

⤜PAIRING: Yoongi x Fem!Reader

⤜GENRE: mentions of a guy being a total creep, begging for your number, yoongi saves the day, photocard boyfriend aesthetic, first kiss, cute, fluffy, first date

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2022

⤜MASTERLIST

Everyone knew that if you broke a mirror it was seven years of bad luck. Why though? Why was it always that and why did every believe it? You'd never been the suspicious one until now after everything had been going wrong for you. That morning you'd dropped your mirror on the floor and now you were paying the price for it. You'd googled everything you could to try and reverse the bad luck but it was no good, nothing seemed to reverse it.

First, your car broke down, then it started raining on your walk to work and on your way home you got splashed by a cab. Now it was worse. You could feel something watching you. It had been happening since you'd walked out of the building, you could just feel eyes on you at all times.

You thought it was just your mind playing tricks on you but it wasn't. You knew that now since you could always feel it watching and waiting...never looking away from you. Whatever it was, was still following you now. You had no idea where you even were since every now and again you'd change the direction in which you were going so you didn't have to feel like you were being followed but it still happened.

Whatever it was that was following you wasn't going to stop and you decided you needed to either confront it or turn around and head home. So you did, you turned around suddenly and came face to face with someone. A guy. He looked oddly familiar but you weren't able to place him from where you knew him.

"Whoa. Hi." He smiled shyly at you but you didn't let it slide, it was him that had been following you all afternoon. It was weird that he was following you and even weirder now that he was staring directly at you.

"Hi. Sorry. I have to go." You whispered trying to move past him but he stepped to the side and blocked your pathway, shaking his head at you.

"Wait! Can I get your number?" Your throat ran dry as you thought about some random guy asking for your number. There was no way you were going to give it out.

"My number?" You did your best to sound confident even if you were shaking and nervous on the inside. There was hardly anybody in the street right now and you had no idea if you would be able to get away without him trying to start a fight.

"Yeah...You know...To talk?" He was so happy about asking you for his number, talking to you as if you knew him personally.

"I'm sorry...I-I think you have me confused with somebody else." You smiled weakly, trying to play this off as a common mistake when you knew exactly that he had been following you.

"No...No, you're Yn. I work in the department downstairs from yours. I'm Eric, I work in IT...I fixed your computer last week," You stared at him more and more creeped out by the second. Especially with the fact that he knew where you worked and knew your name.

"I have to go." You began backing up and into the closest cafe that you could find. Hoping that the guy would get the hint but he continued to follow you inside. Watching you as you headed to the counter, you took in a deep breath as you relaxed a little. The bell above the door hadn't signalled that he'd followed you inside so you were a little relieved that he hadn't tried to follow you again. Maybe you could just stay in here and wait him out until he left.

"Hi...I need a table, I'm alone." You told the woman at the count with a smile who nodded and looked behind you as the bell sounded. She noticed your body tense up and began to nod at you, coming out from the counter.

"Right this way," You sighed in relief as she began to lead you toward a small section of tables, ignoring Eric as he kept his eyes trained on you the entire time.

There was hardly anybody inside the small cafe, a few elderly ladies, an elderly couple and someone with their head down at the back of the cafe. It gave you a little comfort to know that if you were to yell out for help in here someone would help you, or at least be a witness to you hitting Eric if he tried anything stupid.

"Thanks." You whispered sinking down into the chair and watching from a distance as Eric began to make his way over to your table, dismissing the worker who had told him not to go over to you. It wasn't as if she could ban him from the cafe or physically stop him unless he did something wrong.

"That was rude," He told you harshly as he stopped at the end of the table,

"And stalking me isn't?" Your mouth was going to get you into trouble, you knew better than to talk back to someone who was stalking you. You'd seen enough true crime to know better than this.

"I only asked for your number," He bit out roughly as you stared back at him. You just needed to pretend to be confident, that way he would leave you alone.

"You've been following me ever since I left work...Will you please, leave me alone." You begged a little, noticing the elderly ladies on a table near you beginning to turn and listen in on the conversation.

"That makes me sound like a creep. I just want your number."

"I don't have a phone." Your bad luck continued to roll in as your phone began to sound from inside of your pocket, you hated yourself for putting it on loud when you left work.

"Fuck," You hissed reaching into your pocket and sliding it out, quickly dismissing the call to your friend and praying that he would understand now that you simply didn't want to give him your number. That all you wanted to do was for him to leave you alone,

"You're a liar. Just give me your number..." He trailed off slowly as he noticed something on the back of your phone. You knew one of these days the photocard you kept back there was going to pay off and you were now thanks to your friend that had gifted it to you.

It was a gift from a friend, a photo of Yoongi that actually looked as though it was a boyfriend photo. The classic "doesn't look posed" pose and you were now happy your luck began to look up.

"Is that your boyfriend?"

"Yes." Maybe it was too quick to answer but you didn't care. The guy continued to stare down at your phone as if he didn't quite believe what you were saying was true.

"That looks a lot like...that guy," Your stomach sank as you shook your head, playing dumb as he continued to study the photo.

"What guy?"

"He's in that band?" He rolled his eyes trying to think of the name while you swallowed the lump in your throat praying that he wouldn't-

"You can't fool me that's Min yoongi," Too late. He'd already realised who was on your phone and you were more than likely going to be in more shit for lying to him. The guy had been following you for hours, who knew what he was going to do now? Cause a scene? Start yelling at you in public?

"Erm...Well," You felt yourself beginning to sweat as Eric got angrier at you for lying to him, his face turning red as he shook his head at you.

"You're a fucking lying little bitch! You're-"

"Sorry I'm late babe," You frowned hearing someone speak from behind you before you felt a pair of lips touch the top of your head, your stomach flipped as you felt the contact.

"Babe?" Eric asked before you felt someone sitting down beside you, your eyes stared at him before you silently choked on your air supply.

This had to be some kind of joke. Maybe you'd slipped over and bashed your head and this was all some coma dream. There was no way Yoongi was sitting beside you and actually going along with everything right now. He looked better than ever, he'd been the one in the hoodie at the back of the cafe when you first walked in. What were the chances of that happening?

"Yeah, I was working on something. I called but you didn't pick up, I'm sorry I'm late." Yoongi stared at you, hoping that he wasn't going too far with any of this but he could tell from the second you had walked into the cafe that you weren't comfortable. The moment he saw you walking in and shuddering when the guy walked over he knew he had to help you and this was the only way he knew how. Especially when you'd already said he was your boyfriend because of the photocard.

"I-"

"You're lying." Eric cut you off because you could even speak a word to Yoongi. Not that you were even sure you'd be able to, considering your bias had just kissed your head and you were freaking out on the inside.

"Lying?" Yoongi questioned slowly turning his head to look at Eric and frowning,

"You wouldn't date someone like her," Oh but it was okay for Eric to date you? What kind of logic was that?

"Excuse me?" You snapped angrily but Yoongi placed his hand on top of yours, running his fingers gently over your skin as he turned to look at you.

"He's lashing out because he's jealous," He whispered just low enough for you to hear, you relaxed a little when he rubbed his hand over yours.

"We're together, have been for, how long now?" Yoongi directed the question at you and you smiled,

"Six months," You answered with Yoongi smiling at you, he began slowly lifting your hand to his lips and kissing it softly.

"I thought idols weren't allowed to date." Eric snapped bitterly, whatever his problem was it was clear he wasn't going to drop it just because you were "on a date" right now.

"I can, I've been in the industry long enough." Yoongi shrugged, which was true. His dating ban had ended almost two years ago and he was free to date whoever he wanted, as long as it was in secret and didn't bring any bad publicity to the rest of his members.

"Strange though, how no one has caught you together." Eric gestured at you both and Yoongi shook his head, seeming to have an answer for everything that Eric was saying.

"Well, we're very good at hiding it." He smirked,

"Prove it. What's her name?" You swallowed the lump in your throat as Yoongi shrugged,

"Yn," How did he know that? You glanced down at your outfit and saw your badge that was around your neck and felt your body heating up a little.

"Last name?"

"So you can look her up? No thanks," Yoongi stared at you as you nervously played with your fingers. Yoongi hated the thought that Eric was creeping you out too much so he smiled and gently ran his hand over your skin, soothing it a little.

"What's her favourite food?"

"It's a meal and it's kimchi jjigae because I cooked it for her on our first date," You stared at the side of Yoongis head in complete "Aw" of everything that he was saying and doing for you. Someone he didn't even know and he was coming up with a whole story so that you were able to be left alone. Not that he should have had to do that, Eric should have accepted no and moved away from you.

"What was your second date?"

"He took me to a fun fair, I won him a giant stuff cat that I insisted we call 'lil meow meow' and he hated it," You answered this time, trying to seem more and more confident with every passing second. If you were going to make up a story you at least wanted to get in on the fun.

"I accidentally threw it away," Yoongi whined at you, shaking his head.

"Oh please, it wasn't an accident, I know you gave it to Holly to ruin it on purpose." You pouted at him, as the speech came out as though it was completely natural and the truth between you both.

"You have no proof of that," Yoongi told you with a smirk, you rolled your eyes at him.

"I so do, you just don't want to listen to it." You giggled as Yoongi tickled your sides, Eric looked less than impressed to hear all of this from the both of you.

"Right...How did you meet?" He asked. This time you stared at Yoongi and he smiled looking directly at you. It needed to be something nice and yet believable all at the same time, nothing that sounded as though it was from a movie.

"I saw Yn when we were in the market. She was walking around in her own world and I just...I think I fell in love with her right at that moment. The way her hair looked, the way she smiled at people in the booths...The way she laughed at something...She took my breath away." You felt your heart beginning to race as Yoongi continued to stare back into your eyes and smile warmly at you,

"Even looking at her now, she makes me lose my words as no one else can," You whimpered a little as you felt his hand slowly touch your cheek, running his thumb along your bottom lip as the two of you seemed to forget that Eric was even there.

"That's cheesy, are all idols this cheesy? I thought it was all an act,"

"I thought IT guys being creeps was a stereotype," You counted before the guy began to walk away, sitting at a table and watching you both closely from his own table.

As soon as he was out of earshot you relaxed a little and let out a small sigh, rolling your head back against the seat.

"I can't believe you did that for me," You laughed a little, turning to look back at Yoongi who was already watching you with a smile on his lips.

"Thanks for that, I'm sorry for ruining your afternoon," You apologised but Yoongi shook his head at you with a smile, ever since he'd gotten to sit beside you he hadn't been able to stop the smiles from crawling onto his face.

"Don't, it hasn't ruined my afternoon." He glanced over at his shoulder and back at you, the dude was still watching and honestly, it was starting to give Yoongi the creeps knowing that you'd been followed.

"He's still watching, he doesn't believe us. It's better if I stay here," He said warmly, which he wasn't upset about in the slightest. You seemed like a warm and genuine person and he really wanted to get to know you a little more, even if it was only because someone was watching you.

"Here?"

"Yeah, pretending we're on a date. That way he can get the hint and leave you alone," He smiled and shrugged his shoulders, waving over the waitress who nodded at him and signalled that she would be right over.

"You don't have to do this, I'm sorry." You groaned, you couldn't believe you'd dragged someone like Yoongi into your mess.

"He's been following me all day. Ever since I left the work building. I can't believe it, I just know he's going to do the same tomorrow." You mumbled tiredly, smiling as Yoongi ordered you both something to drink before looking back at you.

"Some guys can't take a hint." He shook his head. It was wrong for someone in the world to have to feel as though they had to lie for someone else to take the word "no" seriously. It was even worse when that person continued not to believe them.

"Ugh, it's my fault,"

"Why?" Yoongi frowned, he couldn't imagine how having someone follow you could ever possibly be your fault.

"I broke a mirror."

"So..." Yoongi trailed off, not completely following along with that logic.

"Seven years of bad luck."

"I'm here, surely that's luck?" He laughed softly and you felt your body heat up at the idea of it. That was true, since Yoongi was sitting right in front of you that had to mean something you'd done to counteract the broken mirror had worked.

"I guess...I mean, what are the chances of you being here and hearing about my secret relationship with you," You laughed softly and shook your head, remembering what had started this whole thing in the first place.

"The photocards can save lives," He laughs looking at your phone and seeing the photo, it was one he hadn't seen many people carrying before and he wasn't sure it was an official photocard. Maybe just a photo that had been printed out to be the same size as one.

"It's nice, I can take a better one though. More "boyfriend-like" if you want?" Your heart swelled and your eyes widened at the thought of it. It would be an incredible thing to have,

"You don't have to..."

"We can do it together then it wards off more creeps." You smiled brightly and nodded at him, moving closer as he took your phone and began to take a couple of photos.

Once the photos were taken Yoongi handed you your phone back and looked at you,

"So how did you break the mirror?" Yoongi asked with a small laugh,

"Oh god." You groaned, thinking back to what you had been doing mere moments before your bad luck had begun.

"What? Is he coming over?" Yoongi panicked glancing around but Eric was still sitting right where he was with his eyes on the two of you the whole time.

"No...No, it's just embarrassing," You mumbled, glancing at Yoongi as he smirked at you. If there was something he loved in the world it was hearing stories that people found embarrassing, sometimes they weren't and sometimes they were.

"Tell me," He urged with a chuckle, lifting his hot chocolate to his lips and taking a large gulp.

"Noooo," You laughed, shaking your head at him. There wasn't enough money in the world, or enough photo's of Yoongi that would ever make you admit what you'd done.

"I love embarrassing stories." You stared at him as he said this, thinking about it for a moment. He had saved you massively with Eric but it was far too much,

"I can't,"

"You tell me one and I'll tell you one that no one else knows," Yoongi suggested as he put his cup down, giving you his full attention as you whimpered a little.

"Really?" Yoongi was going to share something with you? Something he hadn't told ARMY?

"Sure, I trust you," Your heart fluttered at the thought of him trusting you,

"Okay. I was-" You sighed a little, trying to gain confidence in telling him about it. You'd been dancing around in one of your shirts, blasting out Fake Love while busting out all of the moves.

"I was dancing around my room to-"

"One of our songs?" Yoongi's smirk grew wider as he imagined it in his head, it must have been one of the cutest moments in the entire world.

"And I bumped into the dressing table and-" You made cartoon noises of something falling and crashing to the floor.

"Seven years of bad luck all coming at me at once." You mumbled dramatically,

"Really?"

"Yeah, my car broke down on me, it rained, I got splashed and then I had a stalker." You whispered pointing your hand in the direction of Eric and Yoongi smirked a little.

"But now...It's looking up." He gestured between you both as you smiled and nodded your head. That was true, everything seemed to be looking up now that he was with you.

"Your turn." You told him, lifting your drink to your lips and taking a large gulp.

"My turn?"

"Embarrassing story time," You reminded him and Yoongi scoffed shaking his head at you,

"Oh no, that wasn't embarrassing enough."

"It was too!" You yelled out a little too loudly before whimpering as people turned to look at you,

"Was not." He whispered while jabbing your side a little,

"Yoongi," You whined as he chuckles softly.

The two of you sat conversing for what felt like mere minutes but hours had gone by. You'd had a lot of hot drinks together and even a meal, all of which Yoongi had insisted on paying for and had urged on taking you home since the guy was still watching you.

"Thanks for everything," You said as you reached your front door, slowly unlocking it but not opening it yet. You felt as though if you opened it you were going to have to admit that this was over and you didn't want that,

"Anytime...I had a lot of fun," He said with a bright smile, you whimpered a little.

"You did?"

"Yeah, I mean...Fake dating you was really fun." He smiled at you, looking at you as he hoped you were going to agree with him. Ever since your time together he didn't want it to end yet and he was trying to come up with a way to ask you out again.

"For me too,"

"We should do it again." He suggested suddenly making you frown, fake dating again? Why? Was Eric still following you?

"Fake date again?" Yoongi bit down on his lip and shook his head, trying to think of a way to save the moment.

"No...I mean...Yeah but..." He stuttered and stumbled over his words, normally he was a pretty chill guy but right now he couldn't think of anything to say to you.

"On a real date...A real one."

"A real date?" You sounded so excited at the thought of it and it made Yoongi's chest swell up as he smiled down at you. At least you seemed as happy about this as he was.

"Yeah...If that's not weird or anything?" He questioned slowly, hoping that this wasn't going to creep you out.

"No...Not weird, I just, I never would have imagined something like this happening."

"Your luck is finally looking up," He smirked before kissing your forehead softly, your body tingled at the small interaction.

"H-He's not around, you don't have to do that," You whispered, trying to think of any reason why he would go out of his way to do that to you willingly.

"What if I want to kiss you?"

"You do?" You whispered as if you were so scared that speaking louder would somehow remind Yoongi about where he really was and this wasn't some dream or a movie he was in.

"I do."

"Oh." He smiled at you as he watched you get nervous, it was adorable to see you this way.

"I meant what I said to him." He said slowly as he took your hand into his, running his fingers along your hand.

"About what?"

"That, Even looking at you now, you make me lose my words as no one else can." You whimpered a little as he brushed the back of his hand over your cheek gently.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes." He smiled warmly before leaning down and connecting your lips together softly. Everything felt unreal as he pulled you into his arms, snaking one arm around your waist and dragging your body closer to his own. Fireworks exploded around you and Yoongi smiled. Going up and pretending to be your boyfriend was one of the best damn things that had happened.

"And that's how I met your mother," Yoongi smirked at your kids before you smiled over at him. It was his favourite story to tell, he would tell it to everyone he could find.

"So you just pretended to be her boyfriend?" Your son asked with a frown, it was weird for them to hear this but Yoongi had been dying to tell the story since they had asked for one.

"Yep."

"Isn't that weird?" Your eldest daughter asked with a raised eyebrow,

"No...It happens in all those romance books you like."

"But that's fictional." He rolls his eyes as the kids rushed off to go and get ready for bed while you laughed a little.

"They don't understand true romance," You whispered, leaning down and kissing him deeply as he nodded at you, wrapping his arms around you as he bought you closer to him.

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bigdumbbambieyes · 2 years

Text

Midnight Runaway Harringrove Week 2022

Prompts - Serial Killer AU & Billy Hargrove’s Switchblade

tw mentions of abuse, dubcon, knifeplay, blood, violence, choking, Stockholm Syndrome

nsfw

————

It was never going to be easy. Billy knew that much.

Still, he grabs the stack of bills hidden under the loose floorboard in his closet and stuffs them into his suitcase, pausing as he eyes the switchblade hidden there, too. He hesitates, wonders if he should bother, but it would be stupid not to so he grabs it and shoves it into his back pocket.

Just in case.

After flipping his suitcase shut and zipping it as slowly and quietly as he can, Billy stands and listens.

His dad isn’t supposed to be up for another five hours. He’s dead asleep. If he’s lucky, Neil won’t even bother to phone the cops. He should be grateful his son has finally built up enough courage to do what they’ve both been hoping for.

He knows every creaky spot in the hallway and living room like the back of his hand, memorized over the years. Sneaking to the front door is easy, but he holds his breath the entire way, listening for the sound of his father getting out of bed.

Billy only allows himself to take a deep breath once the front door is shut quietly behind him. It’s dark and quiet and eerie.

Then, he’s rushing across the lawn with his suitcase, listening to the sound of his Converse on the concrete and his heavy breaths as he gets further and further away from his dad and his abuse and everything he’s ever known.

He works up a bit of a sweat by the time he slows down to a walk, eyes brimming with tears as he stops on the corner of a street blocks away and hiccups out a small sob.

There’s nowhere to go. No one to run to. He couldn’t find his mom even if he tried, Neil made sure of that. None of his friends would be able to let him stay. They had no idea what Billy went through at home because he never told them. It was always better to suffer in silence, in his case.

With no mother, a father who would eventually give up on him, and no friends or relatives to contact - Billy’s all alone and unloved and the realization is a long time coming and it’s finally here.

The thoughts are racing through his mind so quickly that he doesn’t see the taxi pull up next to him until a voice asks, “Need a ride?”

Billy jumps, eyes wide, and sighs a breath of relief when he sees that it’s not his dad.

And honestly? Being in a cab is better than out on the street. He’s got enough cash to get him anywhere he wants to go.

“Yeah, sure,” Billy clears his throat before opening the back door and climbing in, setting his luggage on the ground as he settles in his seat. Looking at the rear view mirror, he sees big brown doe eyes staring back at him in the yellow light of the street lamp, unwavering.

And for a moment, there’s nothing said, there’s no movement, just the idling car and Billy’s bated breath.

Anxious, he snaps quietly, “Can we get a move on?”

The driver smiles, Billy can see the way his eyes crinkle, and he asks in a strangely chipper voice, “Where to?”

Again, Billy doesn’t know. “Um,” he furrows his brows, wracking his brain for something until he manages, “Can you take me to...the beach?”

“The beach? Sure,” the driver hums, staring at Billy again for a moment too long. The guy hasn’t even blinked, Billy’s sure, and he squirms a little in his seat when the silence drags on - then the car is in gear and they’re making their way down the street.

The driver looks away for only a second before he’s glancing back at Billy again, striking up an unwanted conversation, “So, why the beach?”

Sick of that stare, Billy looks out the window and focuses on the street passing him by, muttering, “Why do you care?”

“Just curious,” the driver hums, his tone easy and laidback, “It’s the middle of the night and you have a suitcase - most people are wanting to go to the airport, but not you, no. You wanna go to the beach.”

He supposes that it does seem odd. But, still. Fuck this nosey cab driver, he thinks as he glances at the rear view mirror again.

“Are you meeting someone there?” The driver continues, his voice low and curious, still fucking staring at Billy every chance he gets. Every red light, every stop sign, every quiet moment on the road.

Before he can even answer, the guy continues, “You’re a romantic, aren’t you? I can tell. You have the eyes.”

What?

“What?” Billy balks, brows furrowing in disbelief.

“Mhm,” the driver nods, as if he’s got it all figured out, “I bet you’re meeting someone at the beach, right? Maybe running away together?”

This can’t be real. He’s asleep in his bed and having a weird dream. His dad will be banging at his door any moment now, telling him to get his lazy ass out of bed.

“Sorry,” the guy laughs quietly, the sound making Billy’s skin crawl a little, like there’s something hidden just under the surface, “My bad, man. I just get so swept up in my own fantasies sometimes, y’know? Maybe I’m just…projecting or whatever.”

“Yeah…” Billy mutters, looking out of the window again, uncomfortable.

The driver must catch on to that because he says quietly, in a sad little voice that actually makes Billy feel bad for finding him creepy, “I’m sorry. Really.”

“Dude, it’s whatever,” Billy replies, furrowing his brows a little.

“Steve.”

He flicks his gaze over to the mirror, finds those brown eyes looking at him again and says, “What?”

“My name,” Steve smiles, “It’s Steve. Nice to meet you.”

‘Nice’ isn’t the word that Billy would use, but. Sure.

And he’s not sure what compels him to do it, but he mutters in reply, “Uh, yeah, likewise. Name’s Billy.”

“Billy?” Steve repeats, his eyes widening with excitement.

“Yeah,” Billy nods slightly, unsure if it was the best idea to tell this guy his name, but…it wasn’t like he was ever going to see him again, so.

“I like that name,” Steve hums as he flicks his turn signal on, “It’s…strong. Masculine. The perfect boy name, I think.”

Jesus, what a fucking weirdo.

Steve doesn’t stop, “Billy and Steve. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Uh, I guess,” Billy mumbles, wondering if he should ask him to pull over, but Billy has no idea where they are - it’s dark and he can’t see the street signs anymore.

“Tell me,” Steve hums, his tone low and curious, not even looking as he asks in an even tone, “Why are you running away, Billy?”

It’s a little surreal at this point. Like he’s in the cab but not. There’s something almost hypnotizing about the way Steve speaks and the way he holds eye contact with Billy - like Billy wants to answer him and not tell him to mind his own fucking business.

And he reminds himself that he’ll never see Steve once he’s dropped off at the beach. There’s no harm in telling a random cabbie why he’s packed up and left in the middle of the night, right? And the attention is nice. The fact that Steve seems to even give a little bit of a shit about Billy is nice.

Steve pipes up again, interrupting Billy’s thoughts, “You’re not the first one, y’know. I’ve picked up ladies who leave their piece of shit husbands in the middle of the night. Kids who run away from a bad home. And I make sure they get somewhere safe - a place where they’ll never be hurt again.”

Maybe Steve can read minds.

“Jesus,” Billy sighs, “My dad is an asshole who beats me so I saved up money and left him,” he says in one breath, like it was pushed out of him, and he pouts a little as he mutters, “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No,” Steve frowns as he turns onto another street slowly, his hands steady on the steering wheel, “That’s never what I want to hear. No one deserves that - especially kids like you.”

“I’m not a kid,” Billy mumbles a touch petulantly. As if to prove it, he adds, “I turned eighteen a few months ago.”

That makes Steve smile again, looking back at Billy through that little mirror as he says, “Hey, we’re almost the same age – I’m twenty-four!”

Billy snorts in amusement at that, smiles a little as he says, “That’s not ‘almost’ the same age, dude.”

“Close enough,” Steve chuckles softly, going quiet for a second before he says quietly, almost shyly, “You have a nice smile, by the way.”

And it’s stupid, the way that simple little compliment makes Billy’s neck go hot, how it makes him smile down at his lap with a small shake of his head. Steve is flirting with him while Billy’s running away from home. Unbelievable.

It’s kinda funny, in a sad way, until Steve speaks again, in that low tone, “Bet the rest of you is nice, too.”

“Alright,” Billy chuckles softly, “That’s enough, man, I get it.”

“No,” Steve argues gently, “I mean it. I wanna see the rest of you, if you’d let me.”

Billy’s lips part but no words come out, he just sits there confused, until he laughs incredulously, “What kinda taxi are you running here, huh?”

“Who said I’m driving a taxi, Billy?”

The words hit him like his father and suddenly, he feels cold all over.

There’s no plexiglass separating them, there’s no meter, there’s no signs on the back of the seats, and there wasn’t a familiar white sign on top of the car. He hadn’t checked - he’d just climbed in, like an idiot.

He’s in the backseat of a stranger’s car and his stomach sinks.

“Hey—let me out,” he says, trying for firm and unmoving but his voice is small and quiet.

Steve chuckles and turns off the road, and it’s then that Billy realizes that they’re nowhere near the beach. They’re in a random parking lot in the middle of the night in a quiet part of town, no one is around and once again, Billy feels alone.

The car stops and they sit there for a moment, unmoving and not speaking, like they’re both afraid to break the silence they’ve created.

Billy shifts just a little and the shape of his switchblade in his back pocket is a sudden, comforting reminder.

Be cool.

He breathes out a small sigh and then they come alive.

It’s a struggle to get out of the car as Steve climbs into the back, Billy feels his elbow connect with Steve’s side as he reaches for his switchblade, his heart in his throat as he reaches for the door handle. Steve’s grabbing at him roughly, fisting his hands in his clothes, begging in a quiet voice for Billy to ‘stop’ and ‘relax’.

He manages to open the door and fall out, landing on the pavement with a grunt and he stares up at the night sky for half a second before his adrenaline tells his body to fucking move.

By the time he gets to his feet, Steve is already there, grabbing both of his wrists and pinning him to the side of the car with an almost feral grin.

“Easy, tiger,” Steve laughs breathlessly as Billy struggles against him, but he’s pinned against the cold metal and Billy hasn’t felt this desperate in a long time.

But like this, he finally gets a good look at Steve. He’s got about an inch on Billy, his hair is dark and messy and unwashed, medium build, beauty spots and moles adoring his face like stars in the sky above them, and those brown eyes are bigger like this - staring straight into his own blues. They’re unwavering and hungry, with clear joy, like he’s enjoying the struggle and fight that’s quickly sapping the energy out of Billy.

And that joy increases tenfold once he spots the knife in Billy’s hand.

“Is this for me, honey?” Steve hums, “You gonna be a big boy and use it?”

It’s condescending and makes Billy feel small, powerless, which only increases when Steve squeezes his wrist hard and he cries out, the blade falling from his hand and almost right into Steve’s, like a gift.

The switchblade opens with a press of the button and the sharp point is on Billy’s neck, digging in gently, threatening.

He could die like this. Gutted and left to rot until the morning comes.

The realization makes him beg, his voice shaky as he whispers, “Please don’t hurt me.”

Steve pouts his lower lip at him, “Such nice manners. Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more perfect.”

Perfect.

Steve continues, smiling in amusement as he hums, “I don’t wanna hurt you, baby. You’re too pretty.“

“Liar,” Billy whispers, suddenly emboldened, “If you didn’t want to hurt me, you’d let me go.”

“But then you’d run to the police,” Steve pouts again, “You’d tell them all about me and then they’d find me and the others.”

“Others?” Billy blinks, and then he remembers.

I make sure they get somewhere safe – a place where they’ll never be hurt again.

His lip trembles again as he realizes and he whimpers out, “You killed them…you said they were safe and you killed them—“

Steve presses the knife harder, making Billy shut up quick, and he shakes his head ‘no’ slowly. “They don’t matter now, Billy,” he says firmly, sweetly, “Only you do. Look at you - you’re shaking like a leaf. You don’t deserve to be in a house where you’re scared to even breathe the wrong way. You’ll be safe, with me, yeah?”

Under his goddamn floorboards or crawlspace, probably.

Billy knows desperation. He feels it now, coursing through his body, and he tries to think of something to help himself. He’s a fucking survivor, there’s no way he can’t make it out of this - not when he’s just survived his father.

The knife travels up his neck and to his jaw, still pressing firmly, but there’s no risk of a cut unless Billy makes any sudden movements.

And looking at Steve, he can see the way those brown eyes have softened into something like awe, like admiration, as he trails the tip of the knife along Billy’s face.

Admiration. Appreciation. Steve had been flirting earlier.

“You said you wanted to see the rest of me,” Billy whispers, deciding his plan, “If I let you, will you let me go?”

He watches the way Steve considers it, tilting his head to the side as his eyes narrow, the tip of the knife sliding across his bottom lip.

“Maybe,” Steve murmurs after an eternity, “Get in the car.”

It’s sick, the way he’d desperately tried to escape this backseat only minutes ago and now he’s willingly climbing back in. He’s no stranger to using his body to get what he wants, whether that be a distraction, to get off, or to even just have a warm bed to sleep in at night that isn’t his own. This time it’s a matter of life or death.

Once he’s laid out in the back, he watches Steve closely, following every movement as the brunette keeps the switchblade in his hand and climbs in, shutting the door behind him as he does.

Billy doesn’t dare move as Steve settles on top of him, sitting on his hips, but he does stiffen as the tip of the blade is pressed to the dip between his collarbones and Steve smiles down at him sweetly.

“C’mon,” Steve hums, “Shirt, off. Unless you want me to cut it off?” He chuckles, like it’s some inside joke between them.

“No, no,” Billy breathes with a small shake of his head, and once the blade is far enough, he pulls his shirt off with a bit of struggle and he hears Steve hum in appreciation.

The shirt is forgotten on the floor as Billy lays back again, his chest rising and falling a little faster as he looks down at it, watching and feeling Steve drag the tip of the blade down his breastbone.

It’s weird, the way Steve’s eyes cloud over as he draws little patterns on his skin, digging just a little too hard at times that it makes Billy suck in a sharp little breath. It’s enough to bring Steve back to himself, lifting the pressure just a bit as he blinks the look in his eyes away.

“So beautiful,” Steve sighs as he circles Billy’s bellybutton with the switchblade, shifting himself lower until he’s sitting back on Billy’s thighs, murmuring the entire time, “Perfect arms, perfect stomach, perfect tits…”

Billy can’t help the warmth that rises to his cheeks as he hears it - Steve calling his pecs ‘tits’ - and he licks his dry lips as Steve lowers the blade down to the front of his jeans, tapping the button with it.

“Off,” Steve orders and Billy does as he’s told, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down his thighs, kicking them off once they’re below his knees and Steve lifts himself up to ‘help’.

He doesn’t wear briefs, ever, and turns red once Steve gives him a knowing smirk.

“Good boy,” Steve all but purrs, which suddenly swirls all sorts of emotions in Billy’s chest as Steve slides the switchblade down the ‘V’ of his hips and runs the flat of the blade down the length of his cock.

The cold metal on such a sensitive part of his body makes Billy shiver, his thighs trembling under the weight of Steve, who notices and uses his free hand to smooth his palm across Billy’s stomach and side, down to his hip and thigh, and the warmth of his palm mixed with the cool of the knife has Billy’s dick begin to harden.

He’s mortified, scared, and fucking aroused as Steve continues to admire him - like Billy is worth looking at, like he’s a piece of artwork, like he’s actually being seen for the first time in his miserable life and he wants more of it.

The want to always feel like this is sudden and all-consuming.

Steve notices the effect of his stare right away, his brows lifting in surprise as he drags the tip of the knife along Billy’s thighs, murmuring, “Every part of you is perfect, Billy. It would be a shame to…waste it.”

Waste it. “As in…kill me,” Billy breathes, feeling like he can’t catch his breath because arousal grips him just as tightly as fear does.

Brown eyes glance up at him then, intense yet hauntingly empty, and that look is a clear enough ‘yes’. Because what else would Steve mean by that? He’s already admitted to killing others before Billy, people who had been in a similar situation, desperate and hurting and in need of saving. They hadn’t been strong enough to fight Steve off, unwilling to play this sick little game, but Billy knows how to deal with monsters - he’s been raised by one.

He spreads his thighs, shifting against the fabric of the backseat, and Steve cocks his head in consideration. There’s a small, secret smile on his face as he settles between Billy’s thighs, transferring the knife to his other hand and bringing it back up to Billy’s throat, a threatening presence once again.

A silent command, don’t move.

As if Billy would dare.

No, instead, his breath catches as Steve’s other hand sneaks between his thighs, ghosting his fingertips over his balls and rubbing down the smooth skin underneath, until he’s rubbing at his hole and Billy’s head swims.

He’s no stranger to this, not at all, but the combination of fear and arousal is new and then Steve’s murmuring praise into the cramped space between them, which feels like a hundred little kisses to his skin all at once.

“Look at you,” Steve sighs, “So beautiful like this, that look on your face is fucking delicious, I wanna see it all the time…” He rubs a little harder, makes Billy’s brows furrow when the tip of his finger pushes a little too far, but it makes a blissful look cross Steve’s face, “It hurts just as much as it feels good, huh, baby?”

Billy tries to muster up the strength to say something, anything, but all he can manage is a small whimper in the back of his throat with the tiniest nod of his head because Steve is right.

That fingertip is gone then, and the pinch of the knife at his throat disappears, too, hearing it clatter to the floor as Steve grabs his hips and folds Billy in half easily. He’s got surprising strength, which is made clearer as Billy feels the breath pushed out of his lungs as his knees almost hit his shoulders, his hands grasping onto whatever they can - the seat, Steve, but they’re slick with sweat and slip with every curl of his fingers.

Steve looks ravenous - his hair and eyes are wild as he wraps his arm around Billy’s waist, keeping his lower half tucked firmly against his chest. It’s hard to breathe like this, but it’s even harder when Billy feels the wetness of Steve’s mouth and tongue sealing around his hole, lapping and sucking and swirling him to full hardness.

“Fuck,” he gasps weakly, struggling a little against Steve’s hold, which is swiftly rectified by a smack to the side of his thigh.

“Be good,” Steve growls against his entrance, his breath hot on Billy’s wet skin, and Billy goes quiet with a whimper.

It’s unlike anything Billy’s had before - the way Steve’s mouth seals around him, licking with the flat of his tongue and pointing it to push into the heat of him, devouring him like Steve hasn’t eaten in days.

And all Billy can do is take, he doesn’t even move, just makes these pathetic little sounds as Steve eats him out until he’s sloppy and wet and it’s dribbling down the crack of his ass, much like the way his cock drips precum onto his chest and face. It’s gross, it’s hot, it makes Billy want more.

Quietly, he mewls, “Please.”

That one little word is enough for Steve to lift his head, breathing hard as he stares down at Billy, his chin and mouth wet with spit. “Hm?” He hums, “You say something, gorgeous?”

Billy blushes so hard he can feel it down his neck and chest, his lower lip trembling a little as he parts his lips silently, repeating even softer, “Please…”

“Please, what?” Steve hums, turning his head to bite at Billy’s inner thigh, “You want more? Is that it?”

He blinks up at Steve, licking his lips with a shaky nod, because this is fucked up and yet Billy doesn’t want to stop, he doesn’t want to fight back against the man that might kill him, no - he just wants.

And Steve wants him, too, because he smirks and shifts back, lowering Billy’s hips and legs back onto the seat without a word before he’s reaching down and stuffing three fingers into Billy’s mouth.

He gags a little around them and closes his eyes in embarrassment as Steve orders in a tone that allows nothing but compliance, “Suck.”

Billy can taste the salt on Steve’s fingers, sucks and licks them as best he can, feeling tears begin to brim in his eyes as Steve presses deeper, gathering that thick saliva at the back of his tongue.

Steve watches him the entire time, with this unreadable expression, but he pulls his fingers out abruptly and leans over Billy at the same time, planting his free hand on the seat while the other goes between Billy’s thighs, leaning down to whisper into his ear, “Be a good pet and hold yourself open for me, hm?”

Billy’s hands are flying down before he realizes it, grasps his ass with each hand and spreads himself, wanting to hear the praise that Steve seems so ready to give him.

Slick fingers prod at his entrance just as Steve hums, “Good boy,” and sinks the first finger in.

There’s a sharp burn with the sudden stretch, one that has Billy’s mouth gaping as his brows furrow, tears brimming his eyes again as Steve opens him up. It’s not kind, but it’s not harsh, either - it’s what Steve wants and Billy whines at the width of two fingers too soon. Still, Steve whispers his praise into his ear, murmuring, “So perfect,” and “Taking me so good, baby,” as Billy stutters out choked sounds of his pleasure-pain.

He has three fingers knuckle-deep before he knows it, feels Steve pressing deep, until Billy is loose around him and he pulls them out, slapping them against puckered skin with a grin. It makes Billy huff and flush even deeper, licking his dry lips as he watches with eager eyes as Steve opens the front of his pants.

Unzipping and unbuttoning until he’s pushing those jeans down and revealing the prettiest dick Billy’s ever seen.

Steve spits into his palm and smears it over his cock, thumbing over the veins and the tip, which is rosy and slick and Billy wants it in his mouth. Maybe it would ease the way, would add to the mess already between his cheeks, but Steve’s already lining himself up and pushing past that loosened muscle with a soft groan.

It hurts because Steve’s cock is big and pretty but Billy forces himself to breathe, letting his eyelids flutter shut to focus on it, until he feels a firm hand around his throat and Steve’s growling, “Look at me.”

His eyes open immediately, chokes on a gasp as Steve presses his hand down a little more with a terrifying look on his face that is full of rage and like he’s actually going to kill Billy, until their eyes connect and then he’s sweet again - smiling and humming praise, “Good pet.”

And then Steve’s brushing that spot inside of Billy that makes him see stars.

“Oh–fuck,” Billy chokes out, his hands going to grasp at Steve’s wrist, his face twisting in pleasure as Steve pulls his hips back, clearly savouring the tight pull around his cock and the way Billy’s face contorts with every brush of his prostate.

“You feel so good, pet,” Steve sighs as he begins to move a little faster, pushing a little deeper, flexing his fingers on each side of Billy’s throat, “Fucking made for me, just for me, all mine,” he groans as he fucks into Billy, saying it like a claim that’s branded into Billy’s brain forever.

And it’s the best dick Billy’s ever had so he thinks that maybe he wouldn’t mind being Steve’s. Thinks that he could be reduced to this every night, mindless and dumb with pleasure, as tears overflow from his eyes and Steve just eats it right up with a breathless, chuckled moan.

The pleasure becomes too much as Steve’s free hand finds his neglected cock, which has been weeping against his lower belly, and the slick sound of Steve’s fist over the tip is enough for Billy to gasp and squirm, more desperate than he can ever remember being as he grips like a vice around the cock pressing deep inside him.

Steve groans, his own expression beginning to falter as he gets close, his thrusts turning into deep grinds as his hips press to Billy’s ass. He leans over Billy again when he’s balls deep, rubbing that spot just right and growling as he cums, “Mine.”

It’s intense, the way Billy cums like that, with a dangerous man’s hand wrapped around his throat and claiming him in more ways than one.

The air is thick when Steve finally lifts his hand off Billy’s throat, both of them panting and now pressed together, riding out the high quietly.

Until Billy leans up and presses a kiss to Steve’s mouth.

He isn’t sure why he does it, but he sucks at Steve’s wide cupid’s bow, feels how the brunette stiffens at the feeling until he slowly begins to kiss back, timid and unsure - so unlike how he’d been up until now.

It makes Billy’s heart flutter in his chest.

He pulls away from the kiss and opens his eyes to see Steve staring right back, his doe eyes flickering over Billy’s face quickly, like he’s trying to spot every freckle.

Finally, Steve mutters, “I haven’t…kissed anyone in a long time.”

“How long?” Billy whispers, reaching up to brush Steve’s hair behind his ear tenderly.

“A very long time,” Steve says as he snatches Billy’s hand away from him, gripping his wrist for half a second before he loosens his grip and brings Billy’s hand to his mouth.

Their eyes lock as Steve bites the meat of Billy’s palm, which makes the blond grimace, but the way Steve murmurs, “I’m going to keep you,” into his skin makes him melt.

“Okay,” he whispers, smiling up at Steve, who returns it in that scary-sweet way he does.

And maybe it won’t be so bad. He’s already hurt, so what’s the worst that can happen now?

He can’t wait to find out.

#HarringroveWeek #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #steve x billy #billy x steve #Spree-inspired #a lot of tw on this one lol #lemon

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xsapphirescrollsx · 2 years

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Classic

Written: Oct 29 2022

Pairing: Black Reader x Dark! Steve Rogers

Just a little something I wrote for this Halloween season!

And a shout out to @titty-teetee for letting me talk about this lol

You couldn’t believe the luck, the serendipitous situation of it all, that some poor and misguided car salesman gave up such a prize. It felt like literal manna from heaven had finally poured down on at least one thing to go right this year. Ford was the name, 1946 was the year and Super Deluxe Cabriolet said so very little to describe the smooth tan interior, straight lines and sleek metal painted burgundy wrapped around American ingenuity.

You loved this car, and lately you had the notion that- just maybe, it loved you back. It sounded so silly that you giggled a bit as you lifted your right hand off the leather steering wheel and gently patted the shiny wood grain dash. What a steal, you thought!

A happy, content expression was held faintly across your face as your eyes returned to the rain slick road. Black asphalt with a single faded yellow line became your focus, for now. For a time your thoughts become persistent on regaining a semblance of normality. When you first laid eyes on this beauty, it was covered in a thin layer of dust, with a sun faded ‘for sale’ sign tucked inside and pressed against the front windshield.

Life had been hard on you up until two weeks ago. But ever since you sat in this car and then were able to buy it, shit, you would say that things were finally starting to look almost possible.

The salesman did say this one had been difficult to get rid of. So maybe, in a way, this old Ford was reaching out to you too. Sometimes it felt that way, perhaps you were even a little embarrassed by the fact that during rides you imagined making love in here. But to whom, you had an inkling and the thought of it left you as lubricated as the smooth gears of the engine.

So you blamed age on the quirks of the car. Sometimes it would even get stuck idling on an oldies station on the radio. Like at this very moment.

Try me

And your love will always be true

I need you

James Brown sang out throughout the cab of your new car. And then just a few days ago you parked outside your friend with benefits’ house and couldn’t open your door. Yes, your car was a little..off beat but nothing too outrageous than getting a feel for something new to you.

That’s what you told yourself until the dreams started. They were mostly set in a large city, like the stacked brown stones you’ve seen in magazines. Everything appeared as though you had fallen into a portal back in time before the second world war, and sometimes it felt like you were looking through another’s eyes. The dreams were always different but with the same sensation that this was from the perspective from outside of you.

Sitting here driving now, it reminded you of that last where you were behind the wheel. You looked at your hands and remembered how much larger the hands in the dream were, and white too. A chill ran up your spine, over the skin of your back in icy tendrils. Your eyes followed the path like in the dream and looked into the rearview mirror. Instead of seeing his face like in the dream it was your eyes and face, however there was a figure sitting in the back. Your eyes widened as the shadow moved forward in the seat, slowly the black rolled back over his face revealing slicked dirty blond hair over narrow eyes staring right at you. His narrow nose flared a bit as a smile began to emerge through a thick dark beard.

Your eyes jerked back to the front as you slammed on the breaks, skidding across the slender wet highway left and right. You tried to regain control but the car hooked to the left, practically flying at top speed regardless that both feet were pressing hard into the brake pedal. Trees flew past you as your hands held the steering wheel tightly, continuously pumping the brakes did nothing.

“Stop!” you whispered desperately. Nothing happened until finally you hysterically yanked at the wheel and screamed at the top of your lungs, “I said fucking STOP!”

The car halted so fast your head jerked forward slamming right into the wheel and you blacked out.

A distant melody floated into your emerging consciousness. The voice cruned lightly,

Heavenly shades of night are falling

It's twilight time

Out of the mist, your voice is calling

'Tis twilight time

You struggled to open your eyes and you could taste blood at the back of your throat. Head bobbling, pathetically back to a right position, your eyes fluttering open. And all the strength you had gathered drained away as your head fell back against the rounded top of the seat. It felt like you had been punched straight in the face as you continued to focus your eyes. You hadn’t hit anything, but you could see the lights of the Ford straight ahead, dust was falling, wisping around in swirls in the wake of a figure. You blinked and tried to follow but only caught snatches, perhaps a man.

“Help,” you called out hoarsely. Your eyes shut for a moment and then stared at the passenger window. Someone was there. Again, heavy lids fell and settled until you could open them once more.

Your body jumps when your eyes open. You hadn’t heard the door open or shut at all. The car idled as the song changed again as the man you saw in the back seat was now sitting right next to you.

He was handsome, skin smooth, though pale and his eyes were just as piercing blue as you remembered from the terror of just before you veered off the road. He inched in closer, put his hand over the rest as he came even further toward you until your head rested on his upper arm. Like the parking of the past, lovers wrapped in embraces meant for dark, the man smiled down at you. Face to face, he licked his lips before he spoke, “Hello sweetheart. You don’t know how happy it makes me feel knowing you chose me.”

Your chest felt heavy but you tried to speak anyway, “Who are you?”

The man’s expression dropped solemnly. “I’m yours,” he said and ran a chilly hand over your bloody cheek. “I’m your Steve.”

“I need you to feel how much I want you,” he whispered.

You suddenly felt flush in your groin, you couldn’t even flinch. You were so weak but there was something there, unseen and it was entering you.

“I need you to know how much I love you before you leave this world.”

“No…” you said, struggling to breathe.

Steve leaned close to your lips, hoovering there as though the anticipation of touching you had been his dream come to life.

“I’ll be with you here, until the end of the line and beyond,” he said and placed his lips over yours.

#Black female reader #black reader #Dark Steve Rogers #dark!steve rogers

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buckets-and-trees · 1 year

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Tiny Vessels

Fandom: MCU

Characters/Pairings: Steve x gn!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: The dust settles after defeating Thanos, but Steve himself is far from settled. Endgame compliant.

Content Warnings: implied smut (non-graphic intimacy)

Additional Notes: First night of my 2022 Holiday Extravaganza… It’s late at night on the West Coast, and it’s not a happy kick off to this little shindig, but here we are. The song Tiny Vessels by Death Cab for Cutie HEAVILY influenced this, and some lines and sentiments were directly translated into this piece.

He met you once or twice years ago in the early days of his modern existence, the longest interaction with you happening for all of five minutes at a Stark party in Silver Lake. You had been hand selected by Pepper for handling the press corps for the short Avengers media tour that had darted across the country briefly after the events with Loki in New York. There had been warmth and a little bit of mischief in your demeanor, but you also wrangled all the personalities of the journalists and reporters and ran a tight ship, maintaining tight boundaries to protect for Steve and the others. Only five cities on that tour, and you were always busy with the press, him always busy avoiding press as much as he could on a press tour. He’d spent much more time with your counterpart who was helping coach him and the others through the talking points each day.

When he encountered you again three years after the Snap, it had felt like such a balm to discover someone he knew from before after so many years. It felt almost normal – happenstance as had only happened before he lost half the universe. He had asked you to dinner without hesitation, and he was compelled to keep seeking you out until it became routine and every day and some sort of normal he couldn’t believe existed. It was too good, but he couldn’t say no to inserting himself in your life, though he constantly battled the comfort and how right it felt. He could not have this, and yet he took every moment he could justify.

In the weeks before Scott had suddenly appeared, Steve had started to ask how much longer he could stay with you, absorbing your warmth and hard-fought optimism. It wasn’t that you weren’t unaffected by the loss of half of humanity, you’d just found a way to throw yourself into some of the rebuilding and recovery in a way that helped with some of the healing. Steve never could, and he’d felt himself hollowing out as the years stretched on. You had slowed the hollowing, but it was unstoppable.

You had wandered in and out of his thoughts as he worked with Nat, Scott, Bruce, Tony, Clint, Rocket, Nebula, Rhodey, and Thor to put together the time heist. You had given him space to work without question – another instance of you being so strong, so right for him. Your confidence, your happiness, your world didn’t hinge on him, you just loved him and let him into your life.

And when they’d brought everyone back, fought off Thanos, milling around in the aftermath after a few hours you’d somehow made it through all the chaos and appeared at his side, nothing grand or dramatic in your appearance, just there, making sure he was all right. You’d seen the news alerts, jumped in your car, and made your way to Avengers Campus. You know some of the people dealing with and cleaning up the fall out, and after your initial check on him – earnest, heated kisses, running your fingers over the blood and dirt, cuts and scrapes – you fall in and do what you can to help, not fussing over him unnecessarily.

Everything is destroyed and so as the day starts to come to a close, all but the cleaning crew – who will be there longterm – depart, many urged and invited by Pepper to the Stark cabin. You drove him, Bucky, and Steve, and Steve held your hand while you drove. The Stark cabin was, in fact, surrounded by additional guest cabins. In bed that night, he held you for a long time, you stroked his hair softly, and in quiet tones he told you everything that had happened. You listened. You cried when he told you about Nat. You cried for Tony’s devastating sacrifice coupled with the overwhelming joy of the rest of their success – the return of so many friends and family. You kissed some of his pain away. Then he slept.

You left the next day, your suddenly returned sister suddenly going into labor. The day after was Tony’s memorial, and you returned to be with him later that evening. His mind has already been battling, at odds with this new reality even more than waking up from the ice after seventy years, more than losing half of all existence. Nothing feels right, and yet he knows it’s supposed to. It’s supposed to feel right, better, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know if he can.

In the morning he’s going to return the stones.

“I love you,” Steve said. He wanted to believe it. He wanted you to believe it.

He did, didn’t he?

Some of the days he had.

He wanted to believe all the words the two of you were speaking as you moved together in the dark. Skin against skin, his lips moved against yours, along your jaw, he buried his face in your neck while he buried himself inside you, and as you cried out, he bit down on your shoulder, bursting tiny vessels beneath your skin that will turn into a bruise.

He took you apart and put you back together until you were both fully spent, and you fell into a deep sleep, fingers twined with his, torso laid bare under the moonlight spilling in from the window. Steve slept, but only intermittently. During his fits of restlessness, he watched you, he watched the ceiling, he watched the clock. When the dark grey of dawn crept into the window, he crept out of bed.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood at the window before he heard you stir and then delicately pad across the room to where he stands, gazing out the window. He knew you weren’t trying to be quiet so he wouldn’t hear you – you both knew he hears everything in quiet moments like this – instead he knew you were trying not to disturb the peaceful silence of the predawn light and its effect on the room. This always feels like an unknown time in between awake and asleep for him, and it’s not the first time you’ve found him like this during your relationship. You snaked your arms around his waist from behind and turned your head to rest your cheek against one of his strong shoulders.

“Is something wrong?” you asked softly.

You’re damn right there is, he thought. But he couldn’t talk about it with you then.

Instead, he turned around in your arms and placed a single kiss on your forehead. “What could be wrong?” he asked.

You tilted your head slightly, searching his expression, but he smiled and shrugged. “Sorry if I woke you. Let’s go back to sleep.”

He saw the wheels in your head turning, but he wanted to stop them before they put the pieces together, and so he pulled you back to the bed, tucking you both back beneath the covers and holding you as you curled into him.

It’s not long before he feels your breathing even out again and you relax in his arms, back to slumbering peacefully. You are beautiful – so beautiful he can’t look at you. It’s not the physical, it’s who you are, who you have been. Smart, supportive, strength when he was empty, sarcastic when he needed it, soft in the right moments, and he simply couldn’t be any of that for you.

He was vile for this, and his actions were cheap. Last night had been stolen intimacy, desperate and undeserving. It was vile and cheap because he was running away from a fight for the first time in his life. He wouldn’t fight for you or this. It was too much when he was so empty, every last bit of his soul and body spent, every plan, every effort, he’d pushed himself and every Avenger to bring everyone back, and he was done. He could feel that the tide was supposed to move forward, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to move with it.

Maybe he would have stayed – and stayed with you – if he didn’t have a choice.

But he did.

He could leave it all.

The simpler time.

Setting down the shield.

He couldn’t get the thought out of his head once he’d realized the past could be his future. Straightforward and easy with Peggy – that’s all he could think of doing because he simply couldn’t think of how he was supposed to move on here and now, not even with everyone back.

(Not everyone, though.)

Fully dressed and standing next to the bed, his fingers skimmed softly over your cheek, one last touch down your neck over the bruise that’s bloomed on your skin last night (it will fade like he will fade from your life), and along the curve of your shoulder. You shiver but sigh and continue to slumber. You really are beautiful, but you and this new present just don’t mean a thing or make sense to him like he longs for it all to in his head.

With the light signaling it’s finally dawn, he was due to meet Bruce, Sam, and Bucky out at the edge of the forest where they’ve set up another time launch pad. Steve leaned down to brush his lips over your temple, pulled the sheet up over your shoulder and left.

FOLLOW UP FIC: Don't Forget You're the One Who

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

WELP! Maybe the second day of the Holiday Extravaganza will end more happily than this one...

If you enjoyed, reblog to help others find this story AND to normalize fic-reblogging culture around here. Normalizing fic reblog culture helps us ALL - readers and writers!

My askbox is open, and I'll see all you lovelies tomorrow for day two of this little shindig!

#aspen's holiday extravaganza #ahe 2022 #steve x reader #steve x you #steve x yn #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #aspen wrote something

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kingstylesdaily · 2 years

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How Harry Styles Became the World’s Most Wanted Man

The global pop icon makes it all look easy — even when it definitely isn't. opens up about his huge year, his two new films, his fans' relationship with Olivia Wilde, activism, sexuality, therapy, and much more

BY BRITTANY SPANOS

ON A FRIDAY night in New York, Harry Styles put on a show. It wasn’t just any show; it was the first time he performed his third and soon-to-be-biggest album, Harry’s House, in its entirety. The crowd that May night covered Long Island’s UBS Arena in feathers and glitter and tears — a ritualistic skin shedding of sorts whenever Styles comes to town.

Fans noticed something different about the encore: Styles didn’t end with his usual closer, “Kiwi”; instead, he opted to finish the night with a second performance of his new single “As It Was,” his dance-through-the-tears pandemic reflection on isolation and change. When he played it, the crowd exploded in a way even Styles had never experienced. It left him a bit shaken.

“We came offstage, and I went into my dressing room and just wanted to sit by myself for a minute,” he tells me, two months later. “After One Direction, I didn’t expect to ever experience anything new. I kind of felt like, ‘All right, I’ve seen how crazy it can get.’ And I think there was something about it where I was … not terrified, but I just needed a minute. Because I wasn’t sure what it was. Just that the energy felt insane.”

At 28, Styles has unlocked a new level of stardom for himself. Years ago, he regularly filled stadiums as a member of One Direction, his former boy band. This spring and summer, he’s playing them on his own. “As It Was” has become his hugest song yet, setting streaming records and topping the charts in more than two dozen countries, including 10 weeks straight in the U.S. Because he’s a star with a largely young, female fan base, many have refused to engage with him as much more than a pretty teen idol. (I don’t need to lay out decades of music history to show how wrong of a take that is.) But he can feel the tides change in curious ways. “ ‘As It Was’ is definitely the highest volume of men that I would get stopping me to say something about it,” he notes. “That feels like a weird comment because it’s not like men was the goal. It’s just something I noticed.”

Before his headlining set at Coachella in April, I caught Harry backstage, surrounded by James Corden, Styles’ onstage guest Shania Twain, and his girlfriend, Olivia Wilde. Later, I took in sold-out shows in New York and at London’s Wembley Stadium. The immense love showering Styles was impossible to ignore — you see it in the faces of every fan, whether they’ve been supporting him for “one year, two years, five years, 12 years,” as he says in nearly every end-of-show thank-you speech. Along the way I heard him everywhere, even when I wasn’t trying. “As It Was” played in every cab. “Watermelon Sugar” soundtracked breakfast. “Golden” lurked quietly at a London drugstore. “Late Night Talking” blasted at a Brooklyn bar, leading one man to proclaim, “I like Harry Styles. I can admit it,” like it was a radical act of self-acceptance.

And while he may be everywhere in 2022, Styles is, at the moment, literally right in front of me, sitting in an armchair of a hotel business suite in Hamburg, Germany, on a sweaty June afternoon. After a dip in the Irish Sea this morning, he flew into town and is now enjoying a day off in the middle of his first European tour since 2018.

In person, Styles looks more like your best friend’s cute, sporty older brother than the gender-bending style icon he’s become. He’s left the boas and sequin jumpsuits in the dressing room, opting instead for a blue Adidas track jacket, gym shorts, and Gucci sneakers. His hair, often described as “tousled,” like he’s a renegade prince in a romance novel, is clipped back with a hair claw, a signature day-off accessory.

Styles is a kind of millennial anomaly: He plugs his phone in across the room, never once sneaking a glance for a rogue notification. He maintains eye contact as his thoughts unfurl in his often slow, British drawl. He’s a bit more Zen, even stoic, than he once was; that goofy, class-clown energy he exuded when the world first fell in love with him in One Direction 12 years ago has naturally diminished. But he’s still as affable and charming as ever, remembering details from small talk we had in all the other cities where I had been (professionally) stalking him, and proving earnestly curious about how I was going to spend my time in Hamburg and how magazine deadlines work. (Back in New York, after surprising fans at a Spotify event for his new album, he asked me my thoughts on David Crosby’s most recent album, which he loved.)

“My great uncle lives here,” Styles says of Hamburg. “He married a German lady, so I have a German cousin. They always used to come and visit when I was a kid, and the only word in English [the cousin] knew was ‘lemonade.’ I didn’t know if she actually wanted lemonade or was trying to say ‘Give me some water please!’ ”

Of course it wasn’t meant to take him this long to get back to places like Hamburg, where he’ll play for more than 50,000 fans tomorrow night at Volksparkstadion, a local football stadium. Love on Tour, the name for his current trek, was supposed to launch in the spring of 2020, a few months after Styles released his second album, Fine Line. We all know what happened next.

Styles didn’t get to play live again until last fall, but something funny happened in the interim. While we were bound to our homes, Styles experienced his first Number One hit in Fine Line’s “Watermelon Sugar,” a tune so sweet it may take a moment to realize he’s singing about cunnilingus. Less than a year later, he won his first Grammy for it.

As the pandemic deepened, Styles ended up back in Los Angeles, where he keeps a home, and moved in with three friends. They’d “go for walks, cook dinner, wash the lettuce, all that kind of stuff,” he says, until he decided to use his downtime productively and began writing new material. Rick Rubin’s Malibu studio, Shangri-La, was available, so Styles moved in with longtime producers and co-writers Kid Harpoon and Tyler Johnson. “We didn’t really know what we were going in for,” he says. “It just felt like sitting at home doing nothing might feel better if we all move in together and try to make some music.” Before they knew it, they were making Harry’s House, a revelatory statement that happens to be his most radio-friendly album to date. He took inspiration from Haruomi Hosono’s 1973 LP, Hosono House, which he first heard when he lived in Japan years ago, and treated the songs like they were an internal monologue, traversing a day in his life.

When flying became an option, Styles came home to London. Later, he drove down to Italy in his late stepdad’s car with a friend, listening to the jazz CDs left behind. He visited the Trevi Fountain one day, likely wearing his short-lived pandemic mustache, and was greeted with just four other people instead of the usual throngs that surround the historic site: “I felt like every day you’d say, ‘Weird time, isn’t it?’ Then go, ‘Yeah, it’s fucking insane!’ ��

He credits his stream of roommates — friends, collaborators — with keeping him together during this time. “I really would’ve struggled if I’d done the whole thing by myself,” he says, mirroring the “Harry, you’re no good alone” lyric from “As It Was.” After Italy, Styles visited friends in France, then returned to work, eventually posting up at Real World Studios near Bath, England. By the time he set off across the U.S. to finally tour behind Fine Line last fall, Harry’s House was secretly finished.

Now, besides the unavoidable singles and the victory-lap world tour, there are other indicators of next-level stardom: his skin-care, nail-polish, and clothing line called Pleasing and a fashion collection with Gucci, not to mention his flourishing movie career. He’s starring in the psychological thriller Don’t Worry Darling and in the intimate drama My Policeman, and he’s nabbed a deal with Marvel Studios to play Eros in at least one of the Eternals films. “Everything in my life has felt like a bonus since X-Factor,” he says, referring to the singing competition that led directly to One Direction. “Get on TV and sing. I never expected and never thought that would happen.”

But today, in a Hamburg hotel, Styles is still trying to make sense of it all. He thinks hard about love, shame, honesty, and the importance of kindness and therapy. And he worries. He worries about how he can be one of the biggest pop stars in the world, the kind who can be everything for his fans while also being a great son, brother, friend, and partner to the people standing beside him.. As everything gets bigger, Styles imagines a life that is smaller. How does the world’s most wanted man save the best parts for himself?

WHEN STYLES PLAYED two sold-out shows at Wembley Stadium in June, the first thing he did after stepping offstage each night was take a shower. The post-show shower has become a ritual: a hygienic necessity, sure, but also a crucial moment of clarity and reflection. He washes away the screams full of love and desire to just be in his presence. Anyone would be overwhelmed by that. “It’s really unnatural to stand in front of that many people and have that experience,” he says. “Washing it off, you’re just a naked person, in your most vulnerable, human form. Just like a naked baby, basically.”

Those post-Wembley showers were especially gratifying. When One Direction, which Styles casually refers to as “the band,” played the stadium in 2014, he ended up with tonsillitis on the day of the show. “I was miserable,” he recalls. “We played the first one, and I remember I came off, got in the car, and just started crying because I was so disappointed.”

Styles’ solo shows at Wembley were a reunion of sorts: He had friends and family from all parts of his life and career in the audience on both nights. His mom, Anne Twist, sister Gemma, friends, and his team all danced in the stands next to Wilde and her two young children. Even former bandmate Niall Horan swung by, smiling through “What Makes You Beautiful.”

As he’s become one of the world’s biggest pop stars, Styles’ need for privacy — for keeping that “naked baby” self out of the public eye — seems to have grown. Secrecy has helped to fend off constant questions about his sex life, the kind that were tossed his way as soon as he was of legal age.

In the past couple of years, he started to go to therapy more routinely. “I committed to doing it once a week,” he explains. “I felt like I exercise every day and take care of my body, so why wouldn’t I do that with my mind?”

Through it, he started to process parts of himself he hadn’t figured out before. “So many of your emotions are so foreign before you start analyzing them properly. I like to really lean into [an emotion] and look at it in the face. Not like, ‘I don’t want to feel like this,’ but more like, ‘What is it that makes me feel this way?’ ”

One feeling he needed to shed was shame, the kind of shame that comes from having your sex life scrutinized while you’re still just trying to make sense of it. Over the years, he learned to stop apologizing for it. He learned he could be vulnerable in private while still protecting it from the public.

Sometimes, though, he worried he was a “hypocrite” for being so closed off. His shows have become empowering safe spaces for his fans, so many of whom want to share who they are with him. Onstage, he’s helped people come out to their parents and facilitated everything from marriage proposals to gender reveals. Separating his personal life from his public one hasn’t been a choice he takes lightly. “When I’m working, I work really hard, and I think I’m really professional,” he says. “Then when I’m not, I’m not. I’d like to think I’m open, and probably quite stubborn, too, and willing to be vulnerable. I can be selfish sometimes, but I’d like to think that I’m a caring person.”

He’s found a vague balance through compartmentalization. “I’ve never talked about my life away from work publicly and found that it’s benefited me positively,” he explains, perhaps preemptively. “There’s always going to be a version of a narrative, and I think I just decided I wasn’t going to spend the time trying to correct it or redirect it in some way.”

Drawing the curtain over his life has only made everyone who’s not behind it more curious. His sexuality, for example, has been a topic of near-obsession for years. He has embraced gender fluidity in his fashion, like Mick Jagger and David Bowie before him, and has repeatedly pointed out how backward it feels to require labels and boxes for everyone’s identity. Critics of his approach have accused him of “queerbaiting,” or profiting off queer aesthetics without explicitly claiming the community. Defenders feel it’s unfair to force anyone to label themselves as one thing in order to validate their gender or creative expression.

Styles, without prompting, points out how silly he finds some of the arguments about how he may identify to be: “Sometimes people say, ‘You’ve only publicly been with women,’ and I don’t think I’ve publicly been with anyone. If someone takes a picture of you with someone, it doesn’t mean you’re choosing to have a public relationship or something.”

Of late, this can be contested. While he is everywhere, so is Olivia Wilde. The pair met on the set of Don’t Worry Darling, which she directed (more on that in a moment), then made a splash when paparazzi snapped them holding hands at his manager and close friend Jeffrey Azoff’s wedding in January 2021.

Wilde and Styles have said little about the relationship, and rumors have filled the space. Anonymous tweeters acted appalled at their age difference (as if a 28-year-old man dating a 38-year-old woman isn’t completely normal) and criticized the director-actor dating dynamic (as if there isn’t a long history of beloved Hollywood couples meeting the same way).

More intense and jarring was a corner of Styles’ fandom that has made fun of Wilde’s dancing or made lengthy Twitter threads and TikTok videos canceling her for bad or insensitive jokes made a decade ago. If Styles is already held up to a high standard, his potential partners are held to an unreachable one for some of his fans.

Styles is not the most online person — he uses Instagram to look at plants and architecture posts, has never had the TikTok app, and calls Twitter “a shitstorm of people trying to be awful to people” — but he’s still aware of how those small, toxic corners of the internet are treating the people closest to him. “That obviously doesn’t make me feel good,” he says, carefully. It’s a tightrope he’s treading in discussing this. He wants to — and does! — see the good in his fans, but there’s no denying that like every large online community, this one has a faction that runs on hate and anonymity.

Even with the boundaries he’s set between his public and private lives, sometimes “other people blur the lines for you,” he says. There’s a conversation he has to have early in a relationship, no matter how weird or premature it may feel. “Can you imagine,” he says, “going on a second date with someone and being like, ‘OK, there’s this corner of the thing, and they’re going to say this, and it’s going to be really crazy, and they’re going to be really mean, and it’s not real.… But anyway, what do you want to eat?’ ”

While Styles takes comfort in knowing his whole fandom is not like that, he still wonders about how to respond when the noise gets too loud. “It’s obviously a difficult feeling to feel like being close to me means you’re at the ransom of a corner of Twitter or something,” he says. “I just wanted to sing. I didn’t want to get into it if I was going to hurt people like that.”

When asked about her experience with his fans, Wilde is diplomatic. Like Styles, she believes in what they stand for as a collective, calling them “deeply loving people” who have fostered an accepting community. “What I don’t understand about the cruelty you’re referencing is that that kind of toxic negativity is the antithesis of Harry, and everything he puts out there,” she tells me. “I don’t personally believe the hateful energy defines his fan base at all. The majority of them are true champions of kindness.”

STYLES BECAME A leading man when he was four years old, starring in a play called Barney the Church Man. Later, he transformed into Buzz Lightyear in a production of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang “because Buzz Lightyear was in the toy shop for some reason.” His other early theater credits include: Razamatazz in Bugsy Malone (“the band leader”) and the Elvis-inspired Pharaoh in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. (He would later audition for Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis, but was deemed too iconic by the director.)

Other than that, acting wasn’t really part of his life plan. He liked it, but he found a new rush when he started performing with his band White Eskimo. When they debuted at — and won — a Battle of the Bands competition, it was the first time he felt “the switch”: his teachers looking up at him, instead of vice versa. “I think I was just a showoff,” he says, with a hint of cheekiness. “I say that like it’s past tense.”

But as Styles was preparing the release of his solo debut in 2017, he took his first foray back into acting, with a supporting role in Christopher Nolan’s war epic Dunkirk. (The director said he had no idea how famous Styles was when he cast him.) By the time Marvel recruited him to become Eros, director Chloé Zhao had no one else but Styles in mind for the role. Thanos’ more heroic brother is portrayed in the comics as an intergalactic playboy of sorts, with superhuman strength and the ability to control people’s emotions (a fitting role for the planet’s hottest pop star). MCU boss Kevin Feige recently teased more from Styles, though so far, his only appearance has been the Eternals’ post-credits scene, alongside the Patton Oswalt-voiced Pip. “It’d be funny if that was it, wouldn’t it?” he jokes of his cameo.

Styles’ role in Dunkirk grabbed Wilde’s attention as she was beginning to map out Don’t Worry Darling. He was an early contender for the role of Jack, a charming but secretive husband to Florence Pugh’s increasingly troubled Alice. And Styles had plenty of reasons to be interested in Don’t Worry Darling. Wilde’s second feature film as a director reportedly started a bidding war among 18 studios, following the success of her directorial debut, Booksmart.

Pre-pandemic talks between Styles and the Darling team didn’t make it far; he was, after all, due on a global tour for most of 2020. Instead, Shia LaBeouf won the role, but by the end of that summer, Wilde had reportedly booted the actor for poor on-set behavior.

“I’d wanted to act again,” Styles says. He spent a lot of the pandemic watching movies with his quarantine set of friends and collaborators: He rescreened favorites like the 2012 Belgian drama The Broken Circle Breakdown. Some nights, he and his friends would put a bunch of titles in a hat and choose. (“There was a couple different tastes in the house, so it was between, like, Parasite and Coyote Ugly.”)

Styles was announced as LaBeouf’s replacement a month before filming began. He proved perfect for the role of Jack, who’s brought Alice to the remote, fictional American town of Victory to work on a secret project the men at the company won’t tell their wives about. Jack’s become a star employee and is desperate for his boss’s approval. “We were looking for someone with innate warmth and palpable charm,” Wilde says. “The entire story depended on the audience believing in Jack.”

Styles shot Don’t Worry Darling between September 2020 and February 2021 in L.A. and Palm Springs. Those months were the longest Styles had lived in one place in 11 years. He thought about going completely off the grid while making it: maybe get a flip phone, stop making music. “The reality is you get there on the first day and wait around for 75 percent of it,” he says. “And it’s like, ‘Actually I’m going to text my mate.’ ”

At the start, he was understandably anxious about taking on such a large role alongside stars like Pugh, Chris Pine, Gemma Chan, and Nick Kroll. “In music, there’s such an immediate response to what you do. You finish a song and people clap,” he says. “When you’re filming and they say ‘cut,’ there’s maybe part of you that expects everyone to start clapping, [but] they don’t. Everyone, obviously, goes back to doing their jobs, and you’re like, ‘Oh, shit, was it that bad?’ ” (Being an actor reminded him of session musicians: “You get called in to do your bit, and then someone else puts it all together and makes it.”)

The risk may pay off: He and Pugh are already getting awards-season buzz. Wilde says one moment “left us all in tears” — Jack’s promotion scene during a big company gala. “It’s a strange scene, full of fascist references, and a disturbing amount of male rage,” Wilde says. “The scene called for him to stand onstage with Frank (Chris Pine) and chant their creepy slogan, ‘Who’s world is it? Ours!’ over and over again. Dark as hell. But Harry took it to another level. He was so fully in the moment, he began screaming the lines to the crowd, in this primal roar, that was way more intense than anything we expected from the scene.”

According to Wilde, Pine backed away, understanding this was Harry’s moment. “The camera operator followed him as he paced around the stage like a kind of wild animal,” Wilde remembers. “We were all gobsmacked at the monitor. I think even Harry was surprised by it. Those are the best moments for an actor — when you’re completely outside your body.”

Within weeks, Styles went from the set of Darling to shooting the more intimate My Policeman. He had read the script the year prior, moved by the story enough to have contacted director Michael Grandage and request a meeting. Styles showed up with every line memorized.

Styles plays Tom, a policeman who develops feelings for a museum curator named Patrick (David Dawson). Set in the Fifties, when it was still illegal to be in a same-sex relationship in the U.K., the pair move in secret while Tom pursues a marriage with a schoolteacher named Marion (Emma Corrin). The film shifts between the past and the present, when the three reunite under dire circumstances. “It’s obviously pretty unfathomable now to think, ‘Oh, you couldn’t be gay. That was illegal,’ ” Styles says. “I think everyone, including myself, has your own journey with figuring out sexuality and getting more comfortable with it.” To him, My Policeman is a very human story. “It’s not like ‘This is a gay story about these guys being gay.’ It’s about love and about wasted time to me.”

According to Styles, Grandage wanted to highlight what sex is really like between two men in the scenes between Tom and Patrick. “So much of gay sex in film is two guys going at it, and it kind of removes the tenderness from it,” Styles continues. “There will be, I would imagine, some people who watch it who were very much alive during this time when it was illegal to be gay, and [Michael] wanted to show that it’s tender and loving and sensitive.”

Darling and Policeman make their big premieres at prestigious film festivals in Venice and Toronto late this summer, but Styles isn’t sure his pivot to the silver screen will be permanent. “I don’t imagine I’d do a movie for a while,” he says. There are rumors about how many Marvel movies he’s signed on for and other franchises he might be secretly in talks to do. (In response to a rumor he’ll be starring in a future Star Wars series, he says, “That’s the first I’ve heard of that. I’d imagine … false.”)

He doesn’t rule out taking on new roles. “I think there’ll be a time again when I’ll crave it,” he says. “But when you’re making music, something’s happening. It feels really creative, and it feeds stuff. A large part of acting is the doing-nothing, waiting thing. Which if that’s the worst part, then it’s a pretty good job. But I don’t find that section of it to be that fulfilling. I like doing it in the moment, but I don’t think I’ll do it a lot.”

LIKE A TRUE tousled-haired prince, Styles invites me to attend a concert with him by the philharmonic in Hamburg, eight hours before his own show.

On past tours, he says, “I was getting to a lot of cities and feeling like ‘I’ve been here six times and I’ve never seen any of it.’ ” This tour, he’s been taking in a lot of architecture. “It’s something I can do on my own, just sit somewhere and look at stuff,” he says.

Studying the finer points of buildings fits the regimented, disciplined, and distinctly grown-up tour life he’s created. Styles has found himself enamored with routine on the road: 10 hours of sleep a night, IV injections pumping him with nutrients and vitamins, a strict acid-reflux-conscious diet that cuts out coffee, alcohol, and certain foods that affect the throat 50,000 fans are depending on. Last night, he slept with two humidifiers that apparently made it look like he was stepping out of a steam room when he opened his hotel-room door.

The Elbphilharmonie Hamburg — “Elphi” for short — is a striking structure, looking something like a gorgeous sail. Styles is wearing the same outfit as when I met him in the hotel the day before, only with shorts swapped out for pinstripe pants and a surgical mask covering his face. He and I are both late and can’t be let into the show until intermission, so instead we comb through the backstage hallways and elevators to see rooms built for incredible acoustics and sweeping views of Hamburg. He marvels at all of it. In a temperature-controlled room full of pianos, he asks our tour guide which is the best (“Is there a shining star?”) before sitting down at one and playing for a couple of dreamy, Beatlesque minutes. (He’d mentioned earlier that he spent last summer playing piano every day with his morning coffee.) He has questions about paneling. And like a true tourist, he takes pictures of everything.

The first time I ever met Styles was a lot like this. On his first headlining tour, in San Francisco in 2017, I went backstage to interview Kid Harpoon. Styles stumbled into the room where I was waiting, strolling around less like a headliner with fans lined up around the block and more like the lighting guy. Here was someone who is inexplicably difficult to casually enjoy (you watch one video of One Direction’s funniest interview moments on YouTube and suddenly you’re contemplating how many of their cardboard cutouts you can fit in your dorm) acting so casually. He greeted me then like an old friend, not someone who was still refusing to let go of a One Direction keychain at the time. He asked me how I had been, what I was up to in San Francisco, and if I was excited for the show. Of course I remember every second of it.

Styles has a gift for making those in his presence feel seen. Just ask fans who bump into him on walks through Central Park or Hampstead Heath, then detail those moments as if they had met the pope (granted, the pope could never pull off a hair claw).

Before the second half of the concert at the Elphi, the crowd mingles and grabs drinks. As we walk through, Styles goes unnoticed. (The mask helps.) It’s funny to watch one of the world’s biggest pop stars move through space with such ease, as if he’s blissfully unaware of how well-known he is.

“If you make your life about the fact that you can’t go anywhere and everything has to be a big deal, then that’s what your life becomes,” he says. “Now, in London, I walk everywhere. It’s hard to stumble across things and restaurants and places and stuff if you’re just driving everywhere, and it’s just not that fun.”

Styles outlines his upcoming months for me: In August, after he wraps his European tour in Lisbon, he’ll go on vacation with some friends, maybe catch up on the Love Island season he was “gutted” to miss, or see if The Bear is as good as everyone tells him it is. The next leg of his tour includes stops in L.A., New York, Austin, and Chicago as extended residencies, a decision that meets his personal need for a less strenuous touring schedule and a professional need to be able to attend film festivals and rent studios to write and record music for his fourth album. “I’m always writing,” he says. He and his collaborators are already throwing around ideas. “I think all of us are so excited to get back to it, which feels insane because we’ve just put an album out.”

More than ever, he is thinking about the future. He wants to take meaningful time off at some point — from touring at least, he’s always writing — and ensure he’s a more present figure for his family and friends. In turn, he’s learned to define what real love looks like to him. “The fantasy, or the vision, or the version of you that people can build you up to be feels like a person that isn’t flawed,” he explains. “What I value the most from my friends is I feel like I’m constantly reminded that it’s OK to be flawed. I think I’m pretty messy and make mistakes sometimes. I think that’s the most loving thing: You can see someone’s imperfections, and it’s not [that you] love them in spite of that, but it’s [that you] love them with that.”

He’s thinking about what it would be like if he had children one day: “Well, if I have kids at some point, I will encourage them to be themselves and be vulnerable and share.”

He’s thinking about what he wants to say, too. Styles admits he was uninterested in politics as a teenager, oblivious to things that didn’t personally affect him. But as he grew more famous, he worried about that, too. “I took a massive look at myself,” he says, “and was like, ‘Oh, I don’t do enough . . . or anything.” When conversations around anti-Blackness and inaction reached a fever pitch in 2020, Styles marched in the streets and read books like How to Be an Anti-Racist, by Ibram X. Kendi, and The Will to Change, by bell hooks. He started thinking about racial and gender equity, especially as someone who employs many people on the road. “Pretending as a white person you don’t get a head start just isn’t true,” he says.

We were hanging out right after Roe v. Wade had been overturned in America. “I can’t begin to imagine how terrifying it is to be a woman in America at the moment,” he says. He’ll grab a fan’s sign that reads “My Body, My Choice” at the Hamburg show, displaying it proudly onstage. There’s an energy in the crowds that fills him with careful optimism. “I feel lucky to see a group of people, even just on this tour, who come together in a way,” he says. “I think that group of people is so much less afraid of opening the wound, talking about it, and doing the work, than the generation before us.”

As we wait for the philharmonic’s packed show to restart, I notice a few young girls with their families in the audience and ask Styles what he thinks the crossover between this crowd and his show tonight will be. He looks around at the mostly older faces and goes, “Less than one percent … I know I’ll be at both.”

Styles watches the orchestra studiously. When the conductor leaves and then returns to a standing ovation, Styles whispers, “He’s about to play his big hit.” Even when he’s not peacocking in front of 50,000, he’s still trying to entertain the one person he’s with.

We walk out before the crowd fully disperses. Styles lingers a second to take some photos of the room before he heads out to get ready for his concert, where he’ll bounce around the stage, lifted by the wails of young fans who have been waiting years for this moment.

His fans will linger tonight, too, crowding in the hundreds outside Volksparkstadion. They’ll take photos of their outfits, their tear- and sweat-stained glittery faces, the piles of abandoned boa feathers. They’ll play his big hits back to him, holding a phone-light vigil as they sing One Direction’s “Night Changes” or the Fine Line ballad “Falling.” As the city echoes as much of him as it can take, he’ll probably be washing it all away.

#kingstylesdaily #Harry Styles #hs: rolling stone 2022

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brooklynislandgirl · 29 days

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Start a book club with, read a book to, hit with a book : Close between The System, Raylan, Phil Coulson

Three of a Kind || Accepting {{tagging for reasons: @silverjetsystm, @goodlawman, @tangleweave }}

Beth might be a little tipsy after her third sea-breeze in about half an hour, and maybe she giggles a little too loudly from behind her hand when Jay asks the question. The bar isn't packed yet and so the music is mellow and the dim interior is a respite from the bright hospital lights that she's been dealing with for the last fifteen hours. She leans into Jay and rests her head on her hanai-sister's shoulders, spanning one hand out and waving slowly in panorama in front of them. "Pictcha it. Manhattan...sometime in da las' two weeks..." Yes, she just made a Golden Girls reference. "F' a book club? Hones'ly goddah choose Moon-Moon. Steven got exquisite taste in literature, while Jake got alla sarcastic comments on da side but sittin' in his cab he got plenny time t' read, an' mebbe dat give Marc sometime t' chill out. I t'ink da man really need a time to take brea'd an' jus'...stop for a while, you know wha' I mean. Plus if it jus' da five of us, den we can make da meetings easy, you know?" She purses her lips aside for a moment and ponders the other two men mentioned. "Read a book to? Probably Uncle Phil. Man's an incredible boss. Nevah have someone so intent on protectin' an' supportin' his team but I swear I nevah see him take a vacation, or even be late for work. If all t'ings remain true? Den he probably doesn't even really take time to eat propah, or rest at night, so I'd cheat. Small kine use of Life...tiny hanging effect t' make him drowsy an' den I'd read t' him. Probably from: Captain America: Avenger, Hero, Icon... or Captain America and da American Journey, 1940-2022." She giggles again and pulls back only to fix Jay with The Look. The one that says she knows what's going on and that they will have to discuss that very soon. "An' finally, dat leave Raylan. Who is very pretty, by da way." Yep, there it is, the confirmation nod. "An' I hit him wi' da book f' not tellin' me you an' him are seein' each oddah outside of any work relationship I can faddom, which mean he nevah aks me if it okay to aks you out. Now it's possible you did da aksin' but you're fastah dan me, especially wi' Time an' Correspondence, so...moral of da story, he gets smote...an' you owe me anoddah drink." A pause. "How did he get into Shield, anyway?"

#Mahalo!Stoat <333 #My Hanai-Sister|Jayden Morgan #The Janissary and the Gardener|Jay and Beth #Hooked on the Silver Screen|MCU #Agents of SHIELD|Subverse #{{sorry about giving Raylan a new au lolololol}}#Grey-Coated Morning|Raylan Givens #Uncle Wine Dad|Phil Coulson #More than Brick and Mortar|The System

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msmargaretmurry · 1 year

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idk if you’re still doing the fanfic title ask thing but if you are, mattdrai + neutral zone

i feel like this would be a sweet, funny little story where they have their bye weeks at the same time and coincidentally wind up on vacation at the same resort. big romcommy vibes. more of a @bropunzeling style joint than my own usual style, but i would do my best 😂

obviously leon's there with connor, third-wheeling with him and lauren, since they're coming straight from the all-star game. matthew, also coming straight from the asg, is flying in to meet up with some friends — maybe brady's bye week was before the asg, but robby thomas, or some florida pals, or whoever are there. mostly i just want him to be free of familial obligations so that he can let his freak flag fly.

anyway, the all-star weekend was good for everyone involved — let's say this is set this coming year, so no one was thrilled about going to cold toronto and losing out on three extra days of real vacation, not like florida, which was basically just extra vacation, but it was fun enough. neither the pacific or the atlantic won; none of our main cast here became the main character of the weekend, but there were some fun moments. matthew and leon didn't really talk during the asw, didn't really talk during last year's asw (although, to be fair, matthew was very busy playing host last year), because the thing is, they don't really have any reason to interact now that they're not in the same division.

leon didn't think he'd miss it, but he kind of misses it. the battle of alberta isn't nearly as exciting now. matthew pissed him off a lot when they were younger, yeah, but he has always been fun to play against. the 2020 asg was the first time they ever had a real conversation and it wasn't a big thing or anything, but it was kind of a turning point in the somewhat one-sided animosity, and by the time the 2022 playoffs rolled around, they had developed this kind of almost-friendly (slightly flirty?) respect. matthew still pissed him off on the ice, yeah, but they had some laughs, too, at faceoff circles, between whistles. leon started to believe the people that said, well, if he was on your team you'd love him.

and then matthew got himself traded to florida, built himself a happy new life there, became the main character of the nhl, etc. leon's not not happy for him, but maybe, when he thinks about it in certain moods, he does prickle a little at how easily matthew left the alberta of it all behind.

meanwhile matthew figures they were all just glad to be rid of him. he's been having a great time in florida. a great enough time that it's mostly healed the sting of how his last season in calgary ended and how frustrating his career there was sometimes. there was a time in his life when he would have really, really liked for leon draisaitl to like him, but he's totally past that now.

anyway, due to a series of somewhat comedic near-misses at the airport, they don't realize they're going to the same place until they get onto the plane and they're all in first class: matthew, leon, connor, lauren. everyone's like uhhhhh ?? but matthew makes a joke, retreats to his seat behind them, puts his headphones on, doesn't make conversation except to charm the flight attendants. when they land, connor asks him where he's headed, if he wants to share their cab. matthew politely declines. he's not trying to be anti-social, he's just not trying to intrude on someone else's vacation.

but, of course, the resort isn't huge. it takes, like, a day for matthew's group to run into leon again — at the tiki bar on the beach, where leon is loitering even though lauren and connor are down by the water, because he's feeling particularly third wheel-y today. matthew had the right idea, finding a whole group to glom onto after the asg. all this to say, he's kind of relieved to see other people he kind of knows, even if it all feels a little awkward. but hey, they're on vacation. everyone can be friends here.

cue a beachy vacation montage of drinking and laughing and playing volleyball on the beach and splashing into the water — leon (and often connor and lauren — i feel like there are other wags around with matthew's group of friends) gets kind of folded into the group, and here on vacation away from all the hockey stuff, past rivalries, etc, it turns out that they just kind of click. they're both super competitive, even about dumb things like beach volleyball — but that's fun when the stakes are low, when they're on the same team. matthew's always checking in to make sure leon's having a good time if he's hanging with them while connor and lauren are off doing coupley things — he's always making sure everyone's having a good time, really, and leon starts to really get why his teammates in florida talk about him the way they do. leon is surprisingly funny and surprisingly affectionate when he doesn't want to kill you, and matthew keeps getting that old familiar feeling that he'd really like for leon to like him.

it's only like two days in when they get tipsy and hook up, which is probably a good thing, because it's so mind-bogglingly hot that if they'd held out until the end of the week and just did it once at the end, they would have both gone a little crazy not getting to do it again right away. cue all sorts of sneaking off to have all sorts of gross, sweaty vacation sex, and maybe getting a little obsessed with each other in the process.

the last night of the trip, the whole combined group of them has a big dinner on the beach and everyone just hangs out until late, long after the sun goes down. matthew and leon keep not-so-subtly making eyes at each other, trying to gauge when they're gonna sneak off to go wreck each other, but matthew is also a little in his head about this being the last day of vacation, because he's 100% sure this is gonna be a "what happened in bye week stays in bye week" situation, which is how it should be, anything else would be too complicated and make no sense, but he knows that despite knowing all that logically, it's gonna do a number on him to fly home alone after this whirlwind — whatever it is, with leon, so at some point he disappears, and after a while leon finds him sitting down by the water a little ways away, looking out at the ocean.

leon goes to sit with him. kisses his shoulder, but doesn't try to make conversation. he kind of thinks he knows what matthew's thinking, but it takes him a while to figure out what to say about it in a way that won't be too embarrassing if he's wrong. eventually he settles on, "we should do this again sometime."

matthew looks over, surprised. "you'd want to?"

leon shrugs. "i mean. it's been fun, right?"

and then they make out on the beach, and then they go back to one of their rooms and have sex, and then shower sex, and then morning sex, all of it increasingly clingy in a way they will not discuss until, like, sexcation #4 at least, but leon does kiss matthew's cheek when they part ways at the airport later, and matthew's friends tease him mercilessly about it for the rest of the day.

#ask #writing meme #matthew and leon #hockey for ts #i know it's not like. as spicy as the real enemies-to-lovers stuff #but i am lowkey really into the concept of them not getting together until after matthew's calgary era #when they've had some time and space and are also just a little more grounded and mature as people #this fic however would really just be an excuse to write a fuckload of sex #anyway i have one more of these left!! and then you will all be free from my ramblings for a while ❤

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strwbrryblues · 2 years

Text

drunken words are sober thoughts

Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Genre: Exes to Lovers AU, Non-idol AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Talks about insecurities, Alcohol intake (please drink responsibly!)

Word Count: 2.7k

Synopsis: Drunkenness can either trigger one to make a mistake. You can say yours was a blessing in disguise.

A/N: Hello! Back with another short fic! I'm still not done with finals, maybe a week or two more, but I'll leave this fic here because so suddenly, I thought of this trope when I saw a post on twt 😭

Anyways, your thoughts about the story are welcome as always! please 🙏 i really do love getting feedbacks about my writing, it really helps me as a writer 😭 if you're too shy, my anon ask is always open! (i just recently fixed that one so yeah, I hope it's functioming well 😭) I'm just too busy sometimes to reply, or just I don't know what to reply, but I really do love all the comments and reblogs with texts or tags 🥺

But yeah, I hope everyone's doing well! I f you need someone to talk to I'm always here! I don't mind rants or small talks! 💗💃

“Another shot for the beautiful lady!” Chan hollers at the top of his lungs. You giggled, the sight of his never disappearing dimples sent your heart soaring. He’s as endearing as ever even when you’re both drunk as heck.

“Hyung, come on, you’re both drunk.” Changbin tries to stop you two from downing more alcohol, but the older just waves him off.

“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy, Binnie. We’re not harming anyone!” He bellows out. Changbin sighs deeply as he pushed away Minho’s head from his shoulders.

“You too, Minho hyung. Don’t you have work tomorrow?” Changbin sighs in defeat from Minho’s drunken state, who was very much a clingy-and-affectionate drunk.

“Hehe. I have a day off tomorrow,” the older man giggles as he continues to pester Changbin.

You watched and sighed contently. You barely had time to fool around like this anymore due to workload. Ever since getting a more stable job, you’ve had lesser time to spend for yourself.

“What’s got you smiling, honey?” Chan rests his chin on the palm of his hand, as his elbow rested on the dark oak table. He gave you that beautiful smitten smile, with an all too loving gaze, and it sent your heart into a frenzy of endless thrumming.

“Just…this is beautiful,” you crossed your arms on the table. After doing so, you rested your head on your crossed arms, looking back at Chan from your position. “I haven’t had the time for myself recently. It's nice to be with you guys.” You closed your eyes, feeling the numbing headache that’s caught up from your drunken state.

“We can always hang out whenever you want, baby.” Chan whispers, sneaking a hold of your hand that peeked out from your crossed arms.

There was a moment of silence that hang itself over you two. In your own space, with your eyes communicating as if you were connected once more. Before it broke in itself after Changbin finally called out to his other older friend.

“Agh! Hyung you have to go home!” The younger whined. Sadly, being the only sober one had its pros and cons. He was smart not to drink and suffer the consequences of his actions by hangover, but he had to witness all this shit and be the responsible one.

“Come on~ Just one last drink,” Minho whined as well. Throwing his hands anywhere to express his distaste for not getting more alcohol in his system.

“Chan hyung, go home with Minho hyung. I’ll fetch you both a cab. I’ll take care of noona.” He was begging at this point.

But Chan shook his head. “No! I’ll go with Y/n! I have to show her something.” He shook his head childishly, jutting out his lips as the pouty tone was evident in his voice.

Changbin looks at him worriedly, and a bit heartbroken; almost as if he was about to cry. And to be honest, he’s been that way since the start of the night. “Hyung…are you sure?” He asks, eyes nervously meeting Chan’s, as he fiddled with his fingers.

Chan only let’s out a hearty laugh, “of course! I can take care of myself and Y/n!” He takes full hold of your hand, intertwining them together and pressing a short kiss on the back of your hand. It sent you reeling with butterflies once more.

“If…if you’re so sure then…” Changbin pulls out his phone, albeit unsure, still. “I’ll phone a cab for you two, then.” He says, dialing for a cab as he watches you two with an aching heart, and worried mind.

The cab arrived, and Changbin made sure to get you two safely inside, before he went to his car, dragging along a drunk and half asleep Minho.

The ride was silent, after having Chan give the directions to his studio to the driver. He had his arms wrapped securely on your waist. There was comfort in the silence the loomed over you, and you relished being in his arms. It wasn’t a full cure, but it at least eased some of your headache.

Soon after arriving the destination, Chan had dragged you with him to the building. It was a miracle the staff had let you two inside despite how drunk the two of you looked. But Chan was thankful, because he didn’t want to miss this opportunity to show you what he’d been working on in his studio.

Ushering you inside the cramped space and familiarity of his studio, you settled yourself tiredly on the leather sofa that sat behind his desk.

“You’re going to love this, I promise you.” He giggles like a school girl. Opening up his laptop, and then going for the window where he earlier saved and closed his work. He taps on the play button, and turning up the volume just right.

He turned to you in his swiveling chair as the instrumentals started playing. The intro was calm before it progressed to a more upbeat tone. It’s resembling those of summer songs, and it quickly made you smile. Despite being mot a fan of the hot season, you agreed that most summer songs were fun and worthwhile.

Chan grins at the reaction he’s receiving. “You always love summer songs,” he says, swaying a bit as his drunken self invites you to a dance. You accepted, of course.

The two of you swayed to the music, enjoying how upbeat the music was. It brought you good vibes, despite the song lacking lyrics. The song soon ends end he was quick to go back to his seat, which left you confused.

He regrets moving quick, triggering the his headache from excessive drinking. “Hold on,” he grunts and holds onto his head. You rushed to his side, but also regretting as a wave of headache consumed you. You just held his hand in consolation.

“We both got headaches,” you blabbered out. And you don’t know why, but being drunk has lead you to find it funny. Soon, Chan was laughing along with you.

After recovering from the throbbing pain, Chan opened another file, and after clicking the play button, he sat beside you on the sofa as well.

This one was a big contrast to the upbeat, summer song from earlier. It was mellow, and smooth. But the tune was…sad.

Chan leaned back on the couch, almost slouching. The music played as he stared at the ceiling. You copied, leaning back as well and just staring upwards, however with eyes closed—savoring the instrumentals.

But then you heard a voice—particularly the one in the demo—along with Chan humming. You tried to make out of the lyrics, until you realized the song was directed at you. The lyrics a solemn anthem of what Chan had been feeling for months. And just like that, his words sobered you up.

And then he spoke.

“She’s beautiful.” A pause.

And you turned to him, waiting.

“She was my whole world…She still is. I guess I was just stupid to let go…or that, she never deserved me in the first place.” You were confused on who was referring to. Was it a different woman? “We had a beautiful boy and yet, I don’t know what came over me to just give up.”

You know now it was you he was talking about. Perhaps him getting so drunk have made him forgot he was talking to you, about you.

“Lady, was I a bad husband? She…I broke her heart, and it hurts so much seeing her that night when I told her.” That’s right, you two have been divorced for about half a year now. Suddenly, the joy and warmth that you felt earlier with him has been replaced with the overwhelming feeling of sadness and heartbreak. As if you were reliving the night he asked you for a divorce.

“I really was a bad husband. I hurt her, thinking that my career would only hindrance our relationship. But in truth, I really just gave up on my whole world for my stupid career.” He was sobbing all so suddenly, and you can’t help but do so as well, only quietly as you turned away from him.

“Lady, you don’t know how much I regret doing it. That day at the court, I was so close to crying. I wanted to stop everything but she just looked so angry. I made her mad and hurt, and I just felt that…I had not right to take it all back after putting her through so much…”

You remembered vividly as if it was only yesterday. You were feeling a lot of things, to be honest. That day, more than hurt, confusion, and sadness, you were mad. Angry. Mad and angry at how he chose to gave up on your love. On Jeongin.

Oh, God. Dearest Jeongin. Your poor son sobbed to no end as if he’d physically lost his father. He was too young to understand the concept of divorce, and yet he was pushed into it at such a young age. And although visits were allowed, Jeongin had been a lot more reluctant about everything since then because of it.

“I don’t want to let go, and yet…I feel that all I’ve put her through, was enough of a reason to say that I’m not enough for her. I really wasn’t enough.” The music stopped, and the only sound present was of his sobbing and the rustles his clothes made with every movement.

Your breathing was getting harder to control, as your nose clogged due to crying. You wanted to stay silent but it was hard to do so. And so you eventually let out the sobs that you held back, tears freely flowing but you were still turned away from Chan.

The man perks at the sound of your sobbing, and only then did his mind register once more that it was you who he is with. “Y/n! Love, why are you crying?” He was quick to wrap his arms around you. You don’t know if he was really too drunk to even process everything, to the point that he forgot where your relationship currently stands.

He cradles you in his arms, and for the first time in months, you felt at home. Safe. Despite the underlying problem that you shouldn’t even be doing this with your ex husband. That you shouldn’t be in his arms. And yet you feel like being selfish. Just this one time, and maybe then you can move on.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. You can let it all out. You know you always have me. You can always run to me and lean on me, my love.”

How it hurts you to the point that your crying was almost mixed with the anguished screams. His words should have been bringing your comfort, but with the way he’s speaking those broken promises was too much for you.

“No! No!” You started to scream. “You gave up on us! How can you say those words when you left me?” Those months of grieving for him never seemed to have left. And the stress that piled up finally reached its breaking point. And two broken souls in a cramped room, with no other form of outlet, it truly sucks to be on the receiving end for all of this sword like words.

Chan gripped tightly on his hold on yours, as if the weight of the situation has now fully sobered him up. “I’m so sorry. I’m so ashamed of myself. I regret ever hurting you. I don’t even know how to put it into words. But…those first nights after the proceedings in the court, I—”

Chan choked out the sob once more. He was heaving deeply, and then letting it all out by crying. It hurts him to think about the nights you weren’t in his arms. Those sleepless nights where he had to be tortured endlessly with the thoughts of the consequences of his actions till day breaks. It was a lot of burden for him to carry.

“There was so much regret, Y/n. I didn’t think being away from you was going to affect me, especially when I thought it was the right thing to do. I should’ve taken it all back the moment I saw your face when I brought the topic of divorce.” He’d spoken each word, sentence, slowly as he can. Choosing the right ones so as not to fan the flames of hatred.

You silently cried, still. But you wanted to give your word as well. “You should have talked to me about what you were feeling.” You fisted his shirt in your hold, tightly, before speaking once more, “what was the purpose of our vows? Our bond? Everything—if you’re just going to decide for yourself?” You felt exhausted from crying, slumping in his embrace.

You just…wanted nothing, at this point. There was no use in being so mad at him to the point of holding a grudge, especially when he’d been transparent with you now about his thoughts.

“I know…I was wrong. I wish I could just, go back in time and slap some sense into past me…” Chan heaves out another heavy sigh. His breathing finally going a bit more stable than before. The uncomfortable position of being huddled together in a seated position was catching up to him, so he laid down on the couch, dragging you along.

“That’s a great way to put it. But, at least we’ve learned our lesson. I may have had a part in all of this, if you say that you were reluctant to open up to me about it…so I’m sorry too, if I’ve done something to make you feel like I’m not worthy of knowing what’s on your mind…” You sincerely voiced out. You just know that you may have played a part in this divorce.

Chan hushed you, bringing your closer to him, as if your weight on top of him wasn’t enough to close the distance. He stroked your back comfortingly as he spoke, “no, no. It wasn’t any of your fault. It was me overthinking, and compulsively making a decision…” He admitted, staring back into the ceiling.

There was silence that loomed over the two of you. Both of you finally ceasing the tears and just being in each other’s presence. Chan taking one of your hands in his, intertwining them together as his other hand rubbed comforting patterns on your back.

“Let’s start over.” You broke the silence. It was enough for Chan to halt all his movements, as he shifted underneath you to just look at you properly.

“Start over?” He asks almost dumbly. It made you chuckle, finding it endearing as you often see him give you this look of curiosity and confusion when he gets lost in the conversation.

You nodded, but spoke so as well to assure him. “Yeah.” You rested your cheek on the back of his hand that was in your intertwined hold. “We can work through ‘us’ properly this time. We’ll talk about anything and everything. We’ll make it all work.” You gazed into his eyes lovingly.

Chan was elated to hear it. But then his insecurity resurfaced again. “But…what if I messed up agai—”

“No.” You cut him off. Not wanting his insecurities do all the talking for him. “You won’t. Because like I said, we’ll go through it together. We’ll make it work, because we’ll help each other out. We’ll be there for the other. And I’m here for you now, telling you that I’ll stay with you.”

Chan stays quiet again, almost as if he’s going to cry again. But you spoke once more, “ we’ll work out your insecurities, but for now, don’t worry about anything. Okay?” You asked, staring gently straight into his eyes.

Chan nodded. He understands it well. He understands, that his soul is shaken with how steadfast your were. But most of all, he was relieved, and happy. He felt the heavy weight in his heart, finally lift off. His heart growing lighter as he felt you press a kiss on his forehead.

There was peace and lightheartedness as you two got caught up in your conversations. Chan, despite having visits to see Jeongin would still bombard you with question about him. He wants to know even the most mundane of things about his wonderful son.

You talked for hours until you can’t, and the sun has risen up. And despite having been drunk, you just both know you’ll get a clear memory of what had all happened, because you two were sober enough, and your hearts wouldn’t let you forget that something as beautiful as this has happened.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #skz fluff #skz angst #bang chan x reader #skz chan fluff #skz chan angst #skz x reader #skz chan x reader

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littledrummeraussie · 1 year

Note

Am I too late? 😂🥰 Hi Angie! I hope youre well! Been a while and I miss yoooou! Gimmie some soft holiday magic with Ashton maybe? 👀🥹

My dear Sky 💜 this one ran away with me, and I really do hope this is everything you dreamed of. To be honest, I plan on revisiting this one later this year because I had so much fun building the characters and their story. 💜

masterlist. | want to be added to my taglist? | Christmas Blurb Fest 2022

just fall in love with me this Christmas. [a fake dating story with Ashton]

warnings: boss!Ashton. personal assistant!reader. fake relationship. just general cuteness and feels and confessions and such.

word count: 4350

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“It’s one more hour and then you’re free to go.”

“Are you kicking me out of your Mom’s house? My own boyfriend?”

Ashton giggled at your offended face, holding onto the plate he was drying, and you were quick to join him, trying to stay as quiet as possible. You flicked some water at him as you finished the dishes, an offer you made to his mother after she so generously welcomed you to her home and let you be part of their Christmas preparation and the holiday itself. To be honest, it wasn’t such big of a surprise – after all, you were dating her really lovely and really handsome son, Ashton.

Fake dating her son, Ashton. Ashton, who was your boss. Your boss, who somehow made his whole family believe that he did go on dates which he was able to fit into his really tight schedule. A tight schedule which usually took up his whole day, and which you were responsible for – after all, you were his personal assistant, so it was perfectly normal for him to talk about you in the most random contexts, right?

Apparently his family thought otherwise.

Ashton approached you after a long Friday night back in November and offered to take you home, saying it was too late and too dark to wait for a cab or an Uber, and that it was the least he could do after you stayed overtime because of his meeting running too long. You were chatting about the upcoming Monday and what you needed to prepare for with the holiday season coming up when he let out a little cough, slowing down at a red light.

“If the holidays have already come up…”

“I did schedule your two-week vacation for December,” you smiled at him, tapping away on your tablet to pull up your notes, ready to jot down any other things he wanted you to add. “You just need to confirm when exactly you want to go home and I’ll buy your ticket as well.”

“What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Uhm… nothing?” you shook your head a little, his question taking you off-guard. “Why?”

“You’re not going home for the holidays?” Ashton looked at you, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, something you were not used to; he was always so confident and put together.

“No, my family is currently not talking to each other, and I really don’t want to deal with that if I can help it,” you explained, shrugging a little. “I would rather spend Christmas on my own and in peace.”

“What would you say if I asked you to come and spend Christmas with my family?” he parked the car in front of your building, finally turning towards you.

“I’m not sure I understand…” you raised an eyebrow at him, looking at him expectantly. “What is going on?”

“I– might have told them that we’re dating and that you’re coming with me?” Ashton said the whole thing in one breath, face twisting into an apologetic grimace. “I’m– sorry?”

“You did what?” you blinked at him, not even questioningly – you just felt confused. Really confused. You were sure your boss just lost his mind.

Ashton let out a loud groan, head banging on the steering wheel as he mumbled a few colourful curses, before falling back against his seat, fingers running through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up in a second. In any other situation this would have been a hilarious sight for you – your extremely talented and influential, well-dressed and well-spoken boss falling apart in his car, all but making a fool out of himself with the dramatic way he acted. But you knew Ashton. You’ve been working with him for more than two years now, first as a junior assistant, then promoted to be his personal assistant once he fired your predecessor. He rarely freaked out over things, especially minor ones. But this seemed like a problem he was not ready for.

“I’m sorry, I–” he sighed, rubbing at his face tiredly. “It was a misunderstanding and now I can’t get out of it.”

“What kind of misunderstanding? Ashton, come on, you’re not helping!”

“I was talking to my Mom and I was telling her about an event we did and then a dinner and then another thing, just… casually dropping your name in the conversation every 2 minutes or so because obviously it’s perfectly normal for me to talk about my PA when we’re working so closely together, but…” he took another deep breath, hanging his head low before glancing over at you again, red splotches appearing on his face from how frustrated he felt. “She didn’t know I fired Melody in January… and that you’re my PA now… and she thought that this new girl I’m suddenly talking about is actually my new girlfriend whom I did not introduce yet.”

“And you did not correct her on that…” you concluded, and Ashton shook his head, staring at the dashboard.

“Nooope. And she asked me if you would be able to join us for the holidays and before I knew it I’d already said yes…”

“Ash–”

“I just… I just wanted them to finally leave me alone!” he massaged his temple, a headache certainly starting to flare up from all the frustration he carried. “Every time I call home they are always, always asking me about my love life and I just– I hated how I always tell them that I don’t have anyone, how I don’t have time to date, and then… and then I panicked and I just said–”

“Ashton!” you raised your voice and that finally made him look at you, eyes big and maybe a little nervous, still chewing on his bottom lip. “I’m in, it’s fine.”

“It is? Yeah?” he perked up at your answer, desperation still lacing his voice. “You would do that?”

“Sure. After all, I’m your PA. It’s my job to sort out your things,” you took a little jab at him, and that made Ashton laugh a little, letting out the breath he was holding back.

“Thank you, Y/N. You really are saving my ass,” Ashton started pulling himself together, like he didn’t just have a nervous breakdown in front of you. “And of course you’ll be compensated for giving up your holiday for my sake.”

“We can talk about details later. I’ll schedule in a dinner for us, because we definitely need to talk about a lot of things…” you were already making a few notes for yourself before smiling at Ashton, opening the car door. “Do you feel like Italian or maybe something Asian-style for our first official date?”

“Really funny, Y/N,” a laugh hid in his voice as he rolled his eyes. “Surprise me?”

“Of course you would say that,” you shook your head, grabbing your things; after all, this was a weekly exchange between the two of you. “Alright, then I’ll see you on Monday if nothing comes up during the weekend.”

“Thank you again, really,” he gave you a little nod as you climbed out of the car, rolling the window down to call after you. “Have a good night, darling!”

You laughed at his attempt and waved him away, promising yourself that you’ll come up with a nickname for him as well so you can tease him in front of his family. If Ashton dragged you into this whole thing, the least you could do was to have some fun while fake dating your boss.

“Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night?” Ashton’s mother fussed with the lapels of his coat, not yet ready to let go of her son.

“We would really love to, but we both have early flights and the hotel is closer to the airport,” Ashton smiled at her, stopping her hands and instead holding them in his own. “It’s still a good hour until we arrive, and honestly, Y/N is not a morning person. Like, at all. And I really don’t want her to miss her flight now that we were able to get a last minute ticket.”

“It was really lovely spending time with you, Mrs. Irwin. Thank you for inviting me, truly, it was a pleasure,” you stepped next to them, letting her hug you as well as Ashton started saying goodbye to the rest of his family. “I really wish we could stay, but we really don’t have any other options.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m grateful you’ve spent your holiday with us instead of your family, so I understand you want to be with them as well,” Anne Marie gave you another sweet smile, squeezing your hands just like Ashton did with her. “I’m so glad he found you. You complement each other perfectly. I’ve never seen my Ashton this happy, and I wanted to thank you for it.”

“Oh it’s… it’s nothing, really…” you stuttered at her words, suddenly feeling a little awkward; if only she knew that the whole thing was just a well-orchestrated show the two of you put together…

“Please, he looks at you with such adoration. Now I kinda understand why he was so nervous to bring you back home – he’s smitten with you, and there’s no way he would let anyone know that there is someone who has Mr. Big Boss wrapped around their finger,” she continued in a whisper, a twinkle in her eyes, like she was sharing a secret with you.

“Mom, please, don’t scare her away,” Ashton turned back to the two of you, laughing, his arm slipping around your waist. “We should go, darling. We still need to check in and all.”

“Sure, boo. Once again, thank you for everything. These last two weeks were incredible!”

“Please come back soon, both of you,” Anne Marie bid you goodbye one more time before you grabbed your bags and luggage, loading them into the car Ashton rented, then you were on your way back to the city.

Leaving two days earlier wasn’t in your plans, but right in the middle of your stay with Ashton’s family your mother called you up, asking if maybe you would be able to still visit them, even if it was just for a few days. You were ready to tell her that it was a really last minute invitation, and that you were kind of in the middle of something that actually involved your job and your boss, and really, you didn’t want to go and hear the latest family drama. But then that night when you told Ashton about it he was quick to realize that maybe you did want to go and see your family, and he pulled every possible string he could to get you a ticket.

“I’ll change your contact info to Mr. Big Boss,” you giggled, your head resting back against your seat as you looked at Ashton. “Though I kinda like Ashton Bear with the red heart.”

“You’re terrible. Was that really the best name you could come up with?” he groaned, sending you a quick smile as he drove down the road.

“Because Baby Shortcake and the cake emoji were so much better, you’re right,” your eyes rolled at the memory when you were both looking for his phone in your shared bedroom, finding it under the presents you’ve brought, your caller ID flashing across the screen. “How did I even become that?”

“It’s what you ordered for dessert on our third date,” he shrugged, his cheeks flushing pink. “I mean, on our date, when we were discussing everything and all.”

“When we were talking about coffee orders, and I might have confessed that I have a whole chart based on your moods and what kind of coffee you usually drink at that time? Because that was definitely a really good work date, and the absolute best strawberry shortcake I’ve ever had,” you smiled, a twinkle in your eyes. “You should definitely take me back for another dinner or something, I think I deserve it.”

“Only for the strawberry shortcake?” Ashton chuckled, but there was something else laced in his voice, something flirty and maybe hopeful.

“Definitely for the cake. But maybe for something else as well…” you let your answer linger between the two of you, not missing how Ashton tried to hide his smile in his scarf, mumbling a quiet ‘okay’ to you.

After two weeks of sharing the same bed it was a nice change that you were able to have one just for yourself, even though you were still sharing a room with Ashton. He told you to go ahead and take a shower while he sorted out some things, and you happily wrapped the robe around your body once you were done with your nightly routine. By that time Ashton had also come back and went to freshen up after you were finished, settling down next to you on the couch in his own robe. Before any of you could say a word someone knocked on the door and he quickly went to open it, appearing a moment later with a tray and two mugs.

“What’s this?” you smiled as you accepted the steaming cup, looking at your boss over the rim.

“Hot chocolate,” Ashton returned your smile, taking a small sip of his drink, licking the whipped cream off of his top lip. “I’m still in a Christmassy mood.”

“Yeah, me too. And our room definitely helps with that,” you nodded at the small tree in the corner along with the artificial fireplace in front of you, everything settling the mood for a perfect, quiet night you still had together – the very last one. “Though I really liked your Mom’s living room. It was really nice and cozy.”

“Yeah, it was… it was nice. Back at home. Thank you for coming with me once again,” Ashton stumbled through his words a little before looking at his phone, his lips twitching into a thin line before quickly shaking his head.

“You’re okay?” you did not miss his mood changing, and you thought something might have happened which caused it.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” he gave you a forced smile, looking back at his mug, not really drinking it anymore. “Uhm… it’s midnight. You’re officially off duty, and no longer my girlfriend.”

“Oh,” you blinked at him a few times, realizing why his demeanour changed for a second to his usual boss one. “Yeah, of course. Thank you.”

Silence settled over the two of you as you both returned your attention to your hot chocolates, sipping on them quietly. You imagined that this moment would pass without any other thoughts, that once Ashton told you that your agreement has come to an end you would just fall back into your usual roles and act like nothing has happened in the last few weeks. But the truth was that you couldn’t forget about them: the dates you went on, the kisses you’ve shared, the vulnerable, intimate moments you witnessed from each other while you pretended to be lovers.

“You know…” you finally spoke after a few minutes. “I had so much fun during these two weeks with you. It was really lovely and it actually felt like… like something that Christmas with family really should be.”

“I really had so much fun with you too. Can’t remember the last time I felt like this,” Ashton’s mouth pulled into a little smile, nostalgia lacing his voice. “It was the first time that I– that I really wished I could stay a little longer.”

“I’m sorry you needed to leave because of me. You should have told me, I could have found a way to get here and catch my flight in the morning…”

“No, I– I wished that I could stay there… with you,” the confession finally slipped out of Ashton’s mouth, his eyes settling on you. “That you didn’t need to go home, and neither do I. That we would stay and just be together. Just a little longer.”

“I don’t have to go home if you don’t want me to,” you answered in a whisper, almost like you were scared that if you were any louder it would ruin the magic of the moment.

Ashton slowly put his mug down on the table in front of you before scooting closer and taking your cup as well, placing it next to his, eyes still trained on you. His palm curled around your jaw, your own hand sliding over his as he tipped your head forward, nose tracing yours for a moment before you felt his lips slowly press against your lips, soft and tasting so sweet. It was more than just the quick pecks you’ve exchanged in front of his family; a little moan escaped you at the kiss, and Ashton took that as a sign to tease his tongue against your bottom lip, taking your breath away for a second. Your free hand slipped onto his shoulder and up to the nape of his neck, fingers brushing through his curling hair to pull him closer, wanting to get lost in the kiss you’ve shared.

It was long minutes later when he finally pulled back a little, forehead resting against yours as he breathed deeply, the hot puffs of air tickling your skin. You felt a smile tug at the corner of your mouth, eyes still closed, the words softly falling from your lips:

“Hmm, a real kiss?”

“I would like to think they were all real,” Ashton chuckled, heat radiating from his cheeks, but the cheeky smile on his face gave him away.

“That’s why I needed to tell you to kiss me that very first time?” your fingers combed into his hair, tugging on his curls a little while pulling him back again, lips pressing together for another second.

“I’m not a damn fool…” Ashton mumbled against your skin, nuzzling his nose with yours. “Well, not anymore.”

His honesty made you laugh and you buried your face against his neck, stifling your giggles. Ashton wrapped his arms around you, keeping you close to his chest, palm rubbing up and down your back, something that he picked up during your time at his Mom’s house when you were cuddled up on the couch, watching Christmas movies together. You still remembered the first time you were forced to act like lovers and be all touchy with each other, and now it warmed your heart how naturally it came for the two of you.

“I’ve thought that the only reason why I asked you to come with me and pretend to be my girlfriend was simply because you’re my assistant, and you’re used to dealing with my shit,” Ashton sighed against your hair, his voice close to a whisper, and you held your breath as you listened to him. “I’ve told myself that whatever I was feeling during our dinner dates or quick post-work discussions was because it’s been a while since I had someone I could share anything with. Because I needed to pretend we’re together, and I needed to believe I have feelings for you. I told myself I’m not falling for you, that I cannot fall for you. But by the time we have arrived it was already too late…”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him again, foreheads touching, wanting to ask him something, but Ashton continued talking, his eyes sparkling in the colourful lights twinkling in the corner of the room.

“I think… I think I always had feelings for you. Maybe not as strong as now, but they were there. And every time we needed to act like a couple I just froze for a moment because I was fighting so hard to keep my feelings in check. And every time I just felt myself falling even more for you…” a little smile pulled at the corner of his mouth at his own confession, and you ran your fingers down his cheek, softly caressing it. “After those first few times… it was so easy, so comfortable – I liked that feeling with you, being comfortable. I’m not used to that with people.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. And you did remember, every little moment from the past two weeks: all those times when you needed to face a new situation that required the both of you to put your boss–assistant relationship behind yourselves, get out of your comfort zones, and act like the loving couple you pretended to be. It made sense now, how Ashton always hesitated first, but then warmed up to you as time passed by. The long looks, the lingering touches, the unprompted little cuddles, the quiet moments shared in the morning. You could have acted like you always did, just two people having a work relationship. But somehow you always found yourselves close to the other.

“I was telling myself that I’m only feeling this because we’re pretending that we’re in love. That these things will pass soon, especially as we’re coming to the end of our agreement. Funny how I realized what I was really feeling by the time you have decided that you’ll go home to your parents. It made me realize that I might just lose my chance to tell you how I feel.”

“Well, that was… quite the confession,” you let out a little laugh, your own cheeks feeling warm as you cupped Ashton’s face in your hands. “Am I allowed to speak now?”

“Oh, shit, yeah! Of course,” Ashton groaned, trying to hide his blush from you, his dimples appearing as he smiled. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay. I know you’re good at motivational speeches,” you teased him, making him roll his eyes before looking back at you. “I liked whatever we had before we started fake dating. I love our work relationship, I love our dynamic. But truth to be told… it was really easy to fall in love with you. I always thought you were… decent and… handsome… definitely great humour. But I quickly told myself that I can either ruin this by having a crush on you, or you know… keep my job. And then you fired Melody…”

“…and you decided to keep your job,” he concluded, his voice sounding a little more quiet.

“I also knew that pursuing a relationship with you would be really difficult, seeing as you didn’t really have any breaks in the last few years. And I wasn’t sure how it could work out… PA by day, girlfriend by night? And anyway, I wasn’t even sure if you would like me like that.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure either… not until recently,” he said, nodding for you to continue.

“When you asked me to go on this trip with you, I– I told myself you were crazy. Then I realized I was also crazy for even just thinking about saying yes to your offer. But I thought it could be a fun way to spend Christmas if I’m not with my family, and it also kinda gave me the chance to pretend that you… that you like me. And I was gone from the moment I saw you at the airport, wearing your glasses and waiting for me with coffee… and it broke my heart that this would be only for two weeks.”

“That’s why you ended up saying yes to visiting your family, even though you didn’t want to do it before?” Ashton asked, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face.

“I had a moment when I felt really close to you, where I believed that this thing between us… it was real,” you confessed, eyes looking down. “And I felt that I might need a few days alone to sort out my feelings before going back to work with you, acting like nothing happened while we were here. Like we didn’t share the bed, we didn’t hold each other, and we definitely didn’t kiss.”

“Well, I don’t want to pretend that these two weeks never happened,” you felt him curl his arms around your waist, pulling you into his lap before tipping your chin up, making you look into his eyes. “It’s the happiest I’ve been for a long time now. And I really want to hold onto this feeling. I really want this to be real, you and me.”

“What about our jobs?” you sighed, fingers tangling into his hair and brushing it back from his forehead. “Cause I want this, I want you, more than anything. But I don’t want to give up on you, not as my boss, and definitely not as Ashton.”

“We’ll just try and work it out when we’re back, okay?” he cupped your cheek, leaning closer to press his lips softly against yours. “We’ll schedule a work dinner at that restaurant you liked and talk about it over a strawberry shortcake.”

“You’re terrible,” you scoffed, pressing a smiley kiss back onto his lips. “Do I have to make the reservation?”

“Hey now, I know I’m bad at scheduling, and that’s why I have you, but I’m taking you on that date myself,” Ashton giggled, mumbling his words between more kisses. “It’s what a real girlfriend deserves.”

“Can I keep your contact info as Ashton Bear? With the heart?” you nudged your nose against his as you kissed, his fingers tightening on your hips. “If you’re my real boyfriend now?”

“Surprise me?” his voice turned into a moan, locking his arms around you, your body pressed against his chest.

“Of course you would say that.”

His giggle filled the air, hearty and full of happiness before picking you up in his lap and taking you to the bedroom. There were a lot of things forgotten that night: setting an alarm for the next day. Your robes and the other bed. Staying on your sides as you fell asleep. You both forgot who you were pretending to be and who you were supposed to be.

That night you were finally just two people who fell in love during Christmas.

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@mymindwide @fuckyeah5sostakemehome @suchalonelysunflower @talkfastromance4 @ashtonsunflower @in-superbloom @wiiildflowerrr @lovelywordsblog @heyitskelseaj @sadistmichael

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton irwin fluff #fiction time #christmas blurb fest 2022 #afic: just fall in love with me this christmas

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dramioneasks · 1 year

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Christmas Fics 2022 (Part 1)

(un)seasonably numb by sodamnrad - M, one-shot - Every day of winter break was just another day with Malfoy, away from the rest of the world, from calendar dates or appointed festivities. Simply a cold, winter day spent on top of the world.

Good Cheer by lyrawinter - T, WIP - A feel-good Draco/Hermione fic. Each chapter will use a Christmas prompt.

Auld Lang Syne by wit_beyondmeasure - E, WIP - Five years after the war, everything and everyone in Hermione Granger's seemed focused on who she had yet to become, leaving very little space for her to just…be. When she spontaneously ditches her holiday plans in favor of spending Christmas alone in an enchanted bookshop, she unexpectedly finds herself reconnecting with someone from her past...and questioning everything she thought she wanted for her future.

Crash into Christmas by scullymurphy - M, one-shot - ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Hermione mouthed from behind Roger’s beefy shoulder. But Malfoy just smiled brilliantly and slid off his stool, clapping Roger on the back and gathering their coats. Hermione heard him say something about the airport and a cab ride. Roger turned toward a small corridor, gesturing at them to follow. Malfoy went quickly, but Hermione hung back. What the bloody hell was he playing at? Did he really mean to crash somebody’s Christmas party?

Gruß vom Krampus by Onyx_and_Elm - M, one-shot - Do not, under any circumstances, touch the gooseberry tarts.

Castle in the Air by dolphin_ring - G, one-shot - Hermione runs into Draco on Christmas Eve. Literally.

Naughty or Nice by morriganmercy - E, one-shot - A potion reveals that Hermione isn't the only one who has made some changes during their first year away from Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy seems to have a very high opinion of himself, and she can't resist finding out why.

Sweeter the Second Time Around by RoseHarperMaxwell - M, one-shot - Draco did not buy Honeydukes for the sole purpose of becoming reacquainted with Hermione Granger. He did not. Written for D/Hr Advent 2022 🎄

The Holiday by embersofapril - M, 8 chapters - Dearest Hermione,I hope you are well and aren’t working yourself into a tizzy this close to the Holidays. Remember how we joked last month about swapping flats sometime? I think we should do it.I know this is last minute, but I would love to come and stay in London over the Holidays, for a change of pace, you know? Don’t tell anyone, but I do miss England.You can come and stay here, my home is yours. I think you will love Christmas in Paris.You should be on Holiday leave this coming week anyways, but I purposefully left his letter until the last minute, so you wouldn’t have enough time to come up with an excuse. It will be good for you, Mione, to get away for a bit.I can arrive tomorrow morning, I already acquired an International Portkey for you, so you really have no reason not to.Send Gizmo back as soon as possible!Theo xx

The Second Yule Ball by scullyvasan - T, one-shot - Second time's the charm. Maybe. Christmas fluff featuring Draco in glasses, Draco on ice, and a couple other surprises to be unwrapped. A personal favorite from Fictober 2022 that I've been waiting to post for December. Russian translation by Vart_ on the way.

The Dance Card by Astrangefan - not rated, 4 chapters - Ginny is mischievous and jealous of Bill's special friend. She plans a big prank at the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball. Things don't go as planned and Hermione sacrifices her happiness. Well almost.A typical romantic historical story with a bit of a twist.

One Year & A Mistletoe by MissusB - E, one-shot - It's the most wonderful time of the year... If only Molly Weasley would stop setting her surrogate daughter, Hermione Granger, on everlasting and ever-failing blind dates. It is for this particular reason, she has decided to go solo to this year's large Christmas Gala. Only someone else shows up as well. And Hermione suspects Molley just couldn't help herself.

Draco Malfoy and the Secret Santa Gift Exchange by GreenInk_RedLetters - T, one-shot - "Whatever abominable being invented the secret Santa gift exchange most assuredly deserved the Kiss."AKA, a lighthearted one-shot featuring your favorite snarky blonde forced to be at an office holiday party with -oh joy- a gift exchange. But maybe, just maybe, with the help of one bushy haired golden girl, it might just end a tad bit better. And what was that about the cookies...? Light fluff, maximum cute.

Christmas Past by Katkatkittymeow - E, one-shot - A look at Draco and Hermione's Christmases together.

A Tale of Two Christmases by Meiri - G, one-shot - Christmas 2005 was great, until it wasn't. So far, Christmas 2006 was shaping up to be even more unusual.

The Advent Calendar by DramioneDreaming - G, one-shot - A little bit of Advent calendar themed snarky Dramione banter. Hermione introduces Draco to a muggle tradition; Draco is less than impressed. Written for the Hermione's Nook fest - A Very Potter Advent Calendar

#christmas #dramione

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larissa-the-scribe · 20 hours

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I'd love to hear about First Meetings and The Witch in the Woods from that WIP ask game!!

Thanks for the ask! (from this ask game)

First Meetings:

Info:

The first part of the scene is actually already up on tumblr! You can find that >>here. It's (currently) the opening scene for Fallen Breath, a story about a Lawful Good(tm) detective and a probably insane sailor lady investigating the supernatural curse that's sweeping through Santa Juliana. The idea already existed but it got solidified and made A Thing by Inklings Challenge 2022.

So this scene would be the first time they met, and also the hook for the mystery (Julia has info and she wants Crispin's help because he's not affiliated with the Detective's Guild, unlike most private investigators).

Snippet (this is from the document, after the scene on tumblr):

The day drew to a close, the black darkness of night smothering everything until the streetlights struggled to stay alight. Further toward the middle of Santa Juliana, loud peals from the belltower marked the time. 1800hs. Crispin shrugged. Maybe she’d had to stay overnight in the hospital. Turning up the collar of his coat and shoving his hat over his mop of red-gold curls—wondering wistfully if maybe the darkness meant it’d be socially acceptable to not wear a hat—he went out to call a cab for Ms. Hallifax, then began locking up. It didn’t take long. For all that the monstrous and skeletal building of bronze and glass was large and sprawling, there weren’t many rooms and, consequently, not many doors. Most of them were on the second story, anyway, and there were only two stairways to that. Clicking the locking mechanism closed and shoving the fold-key into his pocket, he thought for the twentieth time that week that it was time he got to cleaning the multitude of windows. Sometimes he regretted not having thought about that when he bought the place. Maybe that had been why it was so cheap; either that or the fact that it was constantly falling apart.

The Witch in the Woods:

Info:

This is a slightly different kind of project, since it's an AU of my ocs, but also it's canon. It gets complicated but (spoilers) basically a thing happens where reality gets fragmented and as a result a bunch of AUs happen with different versions of and different storylines for the four core Rifters (Kathryn, Benn, Lyn, and Zo).

In this AU, the "Assassin AU," it takes place in a more medieval fantasy setting. Benn and Kathryn didn't come in and shut down the assassin program run by the government (well, its equivalent in this world), so Zo is never rescued out of that. Benn has disappeared, Kathryn is hiding in the woods because she's become bitter, and Lyn never gets friends who care about her and take care of her, so she's just fully letting the depression win.

The story for this timeline gets kickstarted when Zo is sent to assassinate Lyn (who, in every universe, knows far too much), and for the first time comes face to face with someone who *wants* him to kill them. This is too weird and intriguing and Wrong, so he refuses to kill her (to her frustration). Instead, he goes rogue and starts figuring out why she's supposed to be dead, dragging her along for the ride until she learns that life is worth living, and he learns to have a moral compass. They also meet Kathryn and Benn along the way :)

This scene takes place when Zo goes back to his "guild," expecting to find help after his clients double-crossed him, only to find out that, no, yeah, his guild also wants Lyn to be dead. His mentor tries to make it a lesson in "don't get attached to people--you're an assassin so you're supposed to be Smarter Than That," but Zo has gotten a Friend now and doesn't fall for it. They make it out, barely, but Lyn is mortally wounded, and they need help, now. So there's this borderline eldritch witch in the nearby woods that his guild has always feared and avoided, but like, he's left them, so, uh, maybe it could be a good idea to ask her for help.

Snippet:

“Go.” Lyn waved a weak hand at him. “I’ll be here when you get back.” He set his jaw, curling his fingers around one of his knives, and set out deeper into the woods. It was darker, more silent than ever, the tree trunks crowded closer, the roots more knobbed and scattered under foot, making walking more difficult and uncomfortable. But he wasn’t going far, anyway. He unsheathed the oak-wood dagger he’d swiped on his way out of the castle--polished, worn, carved with letters he couldn’t read. He knew what they said, though. It was the title of the person he was summoning, and he remembered it clearly; it had been the day Julian had told him to never go into the woods. Fitting, then, that it'd be one of the first places he went after cutting ties. On one hand, the fact that he had stolen a magic artifact from the castle meant that [people from the castle] would definitely be after him, but on the other, it wasn’t like they were going leave him or Lyn alone anyway. He hadn’t told Lyn what he was planning to do, and unease churned in his gut. No matter which legend held truth, this was probably a stupid move. It wasn’t like he had anything to offer in return, and he was the last person who’d be able to appeal to someone’s humanity. Not that he’d really tried yet, but there was also the doubt as to whether or not whatever was here was human. This was a fool’s hope, certainly. But desperation had certainly made a fool of him.

(and one more because I couldn't resist)

The girl tilted her head, cloak fluttering about her in a wind he didn’t feel. “And why do you think I will do what you ask? Last I heard, the rumors were that I was a monster.” “Because those aren’t the only legends, are they?” He hoped Lyn was right. “At least that’s what she believes. That the old tales of a being who traveled throughout the land, in this region specifically, and gave aid to those who needed it.” “Oh?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why is that me?” “I… don’t know exactly.” He bit back his growing frustration with an effort. “Something about the legends ceasing around the time you showed up here, or some of the characteristics being the same. It’s not really my area of expertise.” “No, it wouldn’t be,” she said thoughtfully. She didn't sound judgmental, but, considering her earlier vague remarks about “Castle people,” Zo felt his efforts to check his irritation failing rapidly. “So what are you going to do?” Zo asked. “Avoid history repeating itself,” she said. The cloak fluttered a little more, and she vanished.

#this got SO LONG I'm sorry asdfasd #I wasn't sure how to summarize the AU thing succinctly #thanks for the ask!#ask game #scribe answers #crispin o'callner #zo #tamaki nozomu #lyn #evelyn vordur #the santa juliana files #rifters series 3 #rifters au #assassin au

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