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shuahoonie · 4 years

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out of love [tom holland]

PAIRING: tom holland x female!reader

SUMMARY: being close friends with your ex is fine, right? even if your love for them was unparalleled among others. even if you were still in the process of moving on from them. even if you know they’re happy with someone else. even if you have no clue whether they loved you like you loved them.

WARNINGS: foul language, so much angst, it starts ok at first then goes downhill from there. i literally write things on the go so i don’t know if this will have fluff at some point

(if it does and i didn’t state it here, send me a cute photo of tom and a message of: ok wow she pulled thru 🤪; and if it doesn’t have fluff, send me a meme and a message of: miss girl i simply cannot today ✋😃)

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

A/N: hello! tonight, we are going to be sad!!! i know i usually like to write about all things fluff, but this?? this is just for me because i am having one of those episodes. i just need to feel something again aside from the stress of writing 3 academic papers per week lmao. i’m def not expecting people to like this type of vibe but yannoe. i apologize in advance.

this is inspired by that one episode from new girl (season 6 x ep 16)

gif credits: @thollandgifs

vanessa’s masterlist | taglist form | part two - pandemonium

“You know, you can still live with us right?” Your friend Maia commented as she placed the box, labelled “fine china that mom gave me but will i ever use them?”, on the kitchen island.

“I know,” You murmured dropping the heavy case of pots and pans on the floor. “But maybe living alone will be good for me.” You replied, forcing a smile. “Besides, I don’t want to int—“

“Hey, Y/N, where do you want this?” Harrison asked as he held out a box that’s labelled with “books that my grandpa passed on. HANDLE WITH CARE!”

“Oh, just set it down on the living room—“ before you could even finish, Harrison dropped the box on the floor as if it was nothing. “Harrison!” You hissed, as you quickly rushed to check on the box.

“Y/N, babe, they’re just books. Surely they can withstand any amount of pressure, yeah?” Haz tried to reassure you.

“Haz, those books are from my grandpa—which I’m sure he got from his grandpa.” You sighed. “They’re really old and fragile, so I just want them to be in a well enough condition to stand in my bookcase.”

“‘m sorry,” He murmured, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s just, why do you have to move out?” Harrison asked, frustrated at the whole thing.

“Like I told Maia, maybe having my own place will be good for me.” You replied calmly, as you neatly put the box filled with your grandpa’s books in the corner room—the initial place where you want to build your bookcase. “It’s been a while since I’ve lived on my own.”

“Yeah,” Harrison acknowledged “But there’s absolutely no reason for you to move out. You can’t possibly leave me with her!” He pointed at Maia who let out an audible gasp. Harrison was being dramatic of course.

“Haz—“ You were trying to fight off a laugh. “You two are my constants and if I became dependant on having you two at my convenience, it’s going to be a huge problem.”

“In my opinion, I don’t see it as a problem.” Maia pointed out childishly. You shook your head in disbelief. You had to move out because you miss having a place to yourself— a place where you can be at your complete worst and you don’t have to think about your friends worrying about you.

Besides, moving out means you don’t have to see Tom that often and that was a bonus in your book. It wasn’t a sour breakup per se, it’s just really difficult to feel happy for your ex when he practically showcases how different he is now with his girlfriend.

You prided yourself as a mature and well-rounded person who could be complete friends with her ex as if that’s normal. You could only keep the façade for so long.

Four months. It’s been four months since you and Tom broke up. You lived with Maia soon after the breakup and that enough was a blessing. Maia couldn’t bear to handle the fact that you would be alone at a time like this. Harrison usually crashes at Maia’s so he was bound to move in with you two. In fact, he was always there more often than you.

That was the point where you were convinced that Harrison liked Maia and that Maia liked Harrison.

Conveniently, you and Tom never ‘officially’ moved in together so you could avoid him freely at all costs.

Of course, that was eventually going to end soon. You and Tom were in the same friend group so you were bound to see each other, much to your dismay. You couldn’t exactly make Harrison and Maia pick friends because it’s not fair for anyone.

You were all friends before you and Tom decided to date. Maybe that’s why people say to never date a friend—especially if they’re near and dear.

You were coming back from work when you found people in the living room, and as if the universe really wanted to test you, it was the least likely people you’d expect to see.

“Y/N!” Maia’s voice was pure panic. “I didn’t know you’d be home this early.”

Your eyes quickly flickered between the two people standing across you before you diverted your attention to Maia. “Uh—yeah. There wasn’t really much to do in the office so I came home early.”

Maia turned to Harrison who was equally lost on how to handle the situation. I mean, who wouldn’t?! What were you supposed to do when your friend drops in unannounced with their new girlfriend and to makes the matters worse, your other friend—whom your friend dated before— decides to come home early?

You didn’t know how what kind of spirit took over your body that prompted you to extend your hand to the girl sitting beside your ex and say: “Hello, I’m Y/N.”

The girl looked surprised but shook your hand in return. “Nadine,” Nadine smiled slyly “I—um, I’m Tom’s girlfriend.”

Tom looked mildly uncomfortable but you chose to ignore it. You were becoming good at that—ignoring Tom.

You returned the smile at Nadine. You could feel the burning stares from your friends, mostly Maia. You cleared your throat and said, “I’ll just be in my room to finish the papers I need to send to my editor if you’ll excuse me.”

Before you left completely, you gave Nadine another smile and said, “It’s nice to meet you again, Nadine.”

You don’t remember how you got to your room but that was the least of your concern. You were just undeniably overwhelmed with what just happened that you didn’t even notice that there was a knock on your door.

When you opened the door, it was the last person you expected to see standing in your doorframe.

“Can we talk?” Tom asked in almost a whisper.

You gave him a half shrug and opened the door slightly wider for him.

“We’re okay, right?” He asked, looking at you in the eye.

At this point, you convinced yourself that you were numb. You never talked about the breakup. You never overtly said anything about what you felt. You felt empty. You convinced yourself that you were empty.

You stared back at Tom and without missing a beat, you replied “Of course. Why shouldn’t we?”

“Just admit that you two will miss me,” You teased, grabbing another box from Maia.

“Only if you admit that you’re moving out for an entirely different reason,” Maia whispered carefully as her eyes flickered towards Tom who was also helping with your move out.

You pressed your lips together and acted like he wasn’t even there. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said, you know, like a liar.

You weren’t a vocal person. The idea of talking about your feelings was really difficult for you so you try your best to avoid it. Actually, it’s worse than that. You’d go to extreme lengths to avoid confrontation.

Obviously, it wasn’t healthy. You would always distance yourself whenever you feel emotionally exhausted, and you really meant that distance. It wasn’t bad at first—maybe a day or two was all you needed before you felt comfortable enough to be around people again.

Then it became worse when you were in university. You were beyond unreachable. Aside from being emotionally exhausted, you were mentally drained too. You were always buried with papers and readings which was unavoidable but it took a huge toll on you. So whenever you get a chance to get a break, you completely shut off from people.

Your friends definitely noticed it and they tried their best to help.

Tom was among the people who definitely went out of their way to help you. He would always drop by at your dorm with food or coffee—he would literally just drop them off, most of the time. He would leave small notes that up to this day, you still kept and tucked away in a box.

Both Maia and Harrison followed Tom’s approach. They would all alternate on who’s dropping what and when. Some days, Maia would drop off a new skincare product she’s been using or a lovely box of macarons from your favourite patisserie.

On other days, Harrison would drop off some of his home-cooked meals or maybe a book he saw from a local bookstore—a book that reminded him of you.

Tom was very persistent though. He would sometimes wait out on the hall, just so he could see you and reassure himself (and your friends) that you were okay.

You found it taxing at first—you would often try your best to match the energy from your friends, which only left you exhausted at the end of the day. You wanted space and you clearly weren’t getting that from Tom. You did acknowledge that he only did it out of pure concern.

You often wondered why he did that, staying, but you didn’t ask him. You never did.

Maybe you were afraid that you’d come off as rude or that you’d seem ungrateful for dismissing someone when they’ve clearly taken the time off their day just to check on you.

However, every time you’d open that door, it always seemed that Tom would breathe a huge sigh of relief when you lock eyes. Even if it was just for a quick second. You wondered about that too.

Tom wasn’t really being intrusive. Most of the time, he will leave a few minutes after you’d open the door to get the things your friends would drop off. You’d always ask him if he wants to stay inside for a bit, but he’d always decline.

Except for that one time, though. That one time that you knew you were going to fall in love.

It was the week of midterms and deadlines. You were knee-deep with papers from different classes that demanded to be finished that week, one of which was a research paper that practically tied you to your laptop and made you consume an unhealthy amount of caffeine.

It wasn’t until 2 am when you were about to go on a quick drive to a McDonald’s but saw Tom dozed off in the hallway, his back pressed against the wall.

“Tom,” You shook him gently, trying not to startle him. “Tom, wake up.”

His eyes slowly fluttered open, seemingly disoriented at first but would soon fall into the warm familiarity that your face always brings.

“Why are you sleeping in the hall?” You asked quietly, careful not to make a fuss. The walls in your dorm were very thin and you learned that the hard way. You’d think they’d put a disclaimer about that in the lease when you’re housing a bunch of university students with raging sex drives.

It took Tom a minute to fully comprehend the question, seeing that the bright fluorescent light was being harsh on him and that he’s generally like that when being jolted awake.

“Oh, erm, I—” Tom was finding the right words to use. He can’t exactly exclaim ‘I’ve been worried sick about you!’ out of nowhere. Instead he said, “I was waiting for you to open the door, just to see if you’re alright.”

“All night?”

Tom scratched the back of his neck. “It seemed that way, yeah.” He muttered sheepishly.

You were dumbfounded. Surely this was the first time someone actually fell asleep outside your door, waiting for you to come out. It was sweet but highly unnecessary.

“I was just about to head out and get some McDonald’s, do you wanna come with?” You asked, giving him a hand to hoist himself up.

“I should get going—“

“Have you eaten yet?” You asked cutting him off, taking Tom by surprise. He shook his head no. “Then you should really come.” You said, jingling your car keys in front of him.

Tom was debating whether or not to go with you. It’s been a while since you hung out, but that was the same case for everyone. None of your friends have properly hung out with you ever since the semester started.

Tom should say yes, right?

“Let’s go, Tommy,” You said as you grabbed his hand and dragged him across the hall. “I’ve been staring at my laptop all day and I really need some unhealthy food to balance out the concerning amount of caffeine I’ve consumed.”

“Is that why you’re practically bouncing off the walls?” Tom asked amused, trying to keep up with your pace with your hand holding his.

“Totally,” You grinned at him. “I need to wear out the caffeine or else, I’d have to skip my morning class again.”

“French?”

You nodded. “They’re counting the amount of absences in that class and I really need to keep my shit together.”

“‘m not exactly sure why you took that as an elective,” Tom commented, properly wrapping his hand around yours with fingers interlacing each other.

You tried to ignore it, you really did, but the warm feeling that settled around your stomach drove you crazy.

“Why not? I think it’s cool to learn another language.” You nudged him playfully which he gladly returned.

“I know and trust me, I’m in awe that you’re learning another language! erm—I guess it’s just I feel like you’re overworking yourself too much.” Tom pointed out softly, hoping he didn’t come off as rude or intrusive.

“Eh, I don’t mind.” You replied “It’s what drives me to keep going and for me that’s more than enough. Even if it leaves me little to no sleep, even if it takes too much of my time—it’s enough reason for me to do it.”

Tom stared at you in admiration as soon as those words slipped out your mouth and you didn’t even notice it. You were walking towards the student parking lot, consumed by the twinkling lights from the neighbouring lanes near campus.

Maybe if you weren’t busy consuming the quiet campus grounds, you’d notice the very first time Tom fell in love with you.

“Besides, I know a phrase in french now.”

“Hm—and what’s that, then?”

“Je ne suis pas l’escargot”

“L’escargot? Isn’t that—“

“I am not a snail,” You giggled. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”

Tom laughed, “I supposed so.”

Maybe if you weren’t so afraid of confrontation, you’d have an idea of when Tom knew that you were his person.

See, the thing is— you needed to face reality sooner or later and both your friends could see right through it.

“Honestly, Y/N, how on earth can your box of art materials be this heavy—” Tom appeared in front of the door frame, heaving as he carried the box from two flights of stairs.

You quickly averted your gaze from Maia, who was staring at you expectantly, and cleared your throat. “You can just set them by the door, Tom. I don’t know where to put them yet.” You said as you tried your best to act normal.

“You sure? They’re a tad heavy and I don’t want you to strain yourself.” Tom asked with furrowed brows.

All you could do was nod. The last thing you wanted was Tom’s focused attention on you.

“If you say so,” Tom sighed in defeat “I’m going to grab more boxes—Baby, you don’t have to carry that!” Tom was quick to disappear as he urgently dashed towards his girlfriend, Nadine.

“Oh, but I want to help, Tommy.” You heard Nadine say sweetly, assuming she was also pouting.

You could see Maia roll her eyes, urging you to give her a nudge and a taunting look. “Maia,” you called her out, silently pleading her to stop.

Maia settled down but she wasn’t exactly calm about it either. “I’m still not sure why she’s here.” She murmured. You and Harrison were close enough that you can hear her rambles—which was expected from her anyway.

Maia and Nadine go way back—like toddlers and playgrounds kind of way. Though that sounds figuratively adorable in a way, Maia and Nadine never got along.

Nadine used to date Maia’s brother, which already caused Maia a great demise. As one could expect, the relationship didn’t end well. She left him out of nowhere, saying she needs to find herself—or something along those lines.

A week after the breakup, what Nadine found was herself in the arms of another man. Of course, Maia’s brother was devastated—He truly loved Nadine. Maia had to be the pillar that her brother leaned on. It took Maia a great amount of time to help her brother pick up the pieces that Nadine left.

So yeah—Maia wasn’t thrilled when she heard that Tom was Nadine’s new boyfriend.

“She offered to help, Mai,” You whispered “Who am I to deny help?”

Maia looked at you as if you managed to empty your head while you were moving in between flats. “She’s been after me ever since we were kids. She’s also the reason why it took my brother months to get out of bed,” Maia deadpanned “and She’s Tom’s new girlfriend. Remember Tom? Your ex?” She said rather loudly.

You gave her a tiny pinch on her arm, causing her to yelp. “Maia, are you nuts?!”

Harrison left the two of you so he could grab more boxes, while you and Maia bickered silently amongst each other.

“You are thicker than I thought—Seriously, Y/N. Quit pinching me!” Maia aggressively rubbed her arm.

“They’re going to hear you!” You hissed. “The last thing I want is for those two to get involved.”

“Babe, they’re already involved. Tom, especially.” Maia remarked. “I see the way you look at Tom. I also see the pain you feel whenever he’s with she who must not be named.”

“I’m not doing this Maia,” you mumbled as you walked past her. Your objective was now to help Harrison with the remaining boxes. Your objective was anything but to talk about you and Tom.

“You have to face it sooner or later, Y/N.” Maia called out “I’m not leaving you or this apartment until you tell me what really happened.”

“What’s going on?” Harrison asked as he entered the apartment, carrying three sets of boxes. You grabbed one from him and actively avoided his question.

Before Maia could reply, Tom and Nadine appeared on the doorframe, with Nadine practically glued to Tom.

“Harrison got the last remaining boxes so we’re heading off now,” Tom announced as Nadine’s face painted with clear desperation to get out of your place. “Are we still going bowling tonight?” Tom asked before Nadine whispered something in Tom’s ear and left.

“I’m actually exhausted so I’ll pass,” You answered, obviously avoiding spending time with your ex and his current girlfriend. You’re not that pathetic.

“Same might actually have to just drink the night away,” Maia responded with a grin.

“Well, there’s no way I’m third-wheeling so I’m good,” Harrison said as he threw himself towards the plush teal couch that you snagged from a flea market.

For the tiniest second, Tom seemed disappointed but gave a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, maybe we can reschedule our bowling night, then?” He asked. “It’s not as fun to go bowling with just the two people.”

You, Harrison, and Maia all shared a look. You weren’t on board with bowling-night, to begin with, but you didn’t want Tom to feel as if you were avoiding him—which you were but no one needs to know that.

Maia looked at you, waiting for an answer because god knows she will solely depend on her decision based on yours. You don’t even have an answer, to begin with.

“What are you two supposed to do then?” Harrison asked Tom. Thank god for Harrison.

“I might take Nadine to this poetry jam event that she’s been dying to go to” Tom replied with a soft voice.

“A poetry night?” Maia almost wanted to laugh “You don’t even have the slightest interest in literature, Tom.” Maia didn’t mean to offend him or maybe she did? She wasn’t completely fond of Tom ever since you and Tom broke up—well, she wasn’t fond of the idea that Tom was dating her ‘arch nemesis’, but Tom was her friend and so were you.

“I know that, Mai.” Tom rolled his eyes “but Nadine likes it and I’ll do everything to make her happy.” That left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“If you say so,” Maia murmured before she took a quick look at you. She looked like she wants to give you the biggest hug. But you held a stoic look on your face—something that you picked up because you were afraid of confrontation.

“I’m serious,” Tom defended, lost in his feelings, which only irked Maia even more.

“I know, I heard you— we heard you,” Maia replied, her face showing only one emotion: annoyed. “God, read the room,” Maia grumbled to herself. Harrison had to reach for her hand, urging her to calm down.

“I really love her,” Tom whispered. That left a slap in the face.

It was a cold Saturday afternoon and it has been raining almost all day. It was one of the rare weekends that you weren’t really occupied to do anything other than to lay on your couch and consume a copious amount of entertainment.

Despite the spitting rain, you actually want to head out this time. Being confined to your desk and the university was torture especially since you couldn’t do anything about it—the four of you were graduating this year, no one could afford to slack off.

You and Tom were cuddled against the sofa— Tom was busy watching something on TV while you were busy scrolling on your phone.

“Hey, Tom?”

“Yes, my sweet girl?”

“Do you want to go downtown?” You asked, looking at your phone as you read the details of an event happening this weekend.

“Right now?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “There’s a book fair being held at the local theatre.” You rested your chin on top of his chest and gave him a pout. You were getting sick of being cooped up between your study table and the library. This book fair was a change of scenery and it’s definitely right up your alley.

“But it’s raining, darling” Tom tried to say in the softest way possible. It’s not exactly up in Tom’s interests though.

“I know,” You sighed “I guess I’m just getting sick of this place.”

“You’re getting sick of me?” Tom asked with a huge pout. He was kidding of course.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of you, Tom.” You chuckled softly.

“Okay,” He hummed, pulling you closer to him—if that was even possible. “Then can we stay like this for a while?”

“Anything for you, angel.” You whispered as you closed the details about the local book fair. Maybe next time.

Soon after Tom left, Maia pulled you to her side and asked, “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You feigned innocence. It was clear as day that you weren’t okay, your friends knew that.

Knowing that you weren’t going to budge, Maia walked towards the kitchen and brought out a bottle of wine from the fridge.

Harrison raised an eyebrow at her and asked, “When did you manage to put that in the fridge?” All of you had been occupied with grabbing boxes that there was no way that Maia had the time to put wine in the fridge, let alone obtain them from somewhere.

“It was supposed to be a celebratory drink for Y/N’s new place,” Maia replied as she set the wine and three various mugs on the coffee table. “Obviously, that’s not happening now.” Drinking wine using the oddly designed mugs you collected over the years was a cry for help.

“It’s 4 pm, Mai.” You pointed out as you stared at the white LED clock that you bought off Amazon—another impulse purchase enabled from scrolling on Pinterest for way too long. “We haven’t even had lunch yet.”

“Oh please,” Maia snorted “If there’s one thing that I’ve picked up from university, it’s drinking with little to no food consumption.”

“And if there’s one thing that I’ve picked up from university, it’s cancelling all of my plans for the entire day because I have to tend your hungover-self, Mai,” Harrison remarked as he grabbed the bottle and placed it back on the fridge. “I’m ordering food and no one’s drinking until everyone has finished a meal.”

You heard Maia mutter a string of curses but most especially the part that she said, “This is not the version of daddy that I envisioned Harrison to be.”

All of a sudden Maia’s idea of binge drinking doesn’t seem like a bad idea, you thought.

Turns out Harrison had no intention of letting any of you drink. He was pretty adamant about not having to babysit two drunk messes in one night.

“As if babysitting one isn’t enough,” You recalled Harrison say. He was obviously pertaining to Maia, in which she just huffed the entire time. You often wondered if Maia and Harrison noticed the obvious tension between them, because personally you found it endearing. It was no question that they were meant for each other.

“Y/N, you still haven’t told us whatever happened between you and Tom.” Maia suddenly pointed out. You, Maia, and Harrison were still in the living room, silently watching TV.

You were actively avoiding this conversation for the longest time as you haven’t told anyone about it, and based by the curious faces of your friends, you figured that Tom didn’t tell anyone about it either. You’re still not sure whether that’s a relief or not.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You mumbled. It’s not like you were lying, there really was barely anything to talk about. Heck—You and Tom never got to talk about it properly either.

“We see the way you look at him, Y/N.” Harrison replied softly. “I think there is something.”

“Look—” Maia sat up properly “I know you’re not really vocal about your feelings, but the fact that you’ve never talked nor showed any emotion about your breakup terrifies me, babe.” Maia’s tone was laced with concern.

“I remember the day you told us about it too,” Harrison couldn’t hide his concern too “We were having brunch together at our usual diner and half-way through our meal, you promptly said “We broke up” when Maia asked where Tom was,” Harrison recalled it like it was a fever dream. He and Maia had already expected that you weren’t going to tell them about the breakup when it just happened. However, it baffles them that it’s been over a year since you and Tom broke up, and not one word has been said about it.

It was silent for a while, except for Criminal Minds that was playing on the TV. You blankly stared at the screen, hoping that you’d catch whatever the agents were saying. It was impossible, especially when all your mind could focus on was the recollection of the day Tom knocked on your door at 1 am to breakup.

You were relatively busy that day from volunteer work, so you haven’t seen any of your friends the entire day—or Tom for that matter. Actually, you haven’t seen Tom in a few days. He would send texts periodically throughout the day but they were always short and most of the time, you always forget to reply.

You figured Tom was busy with his own thing and both of you established early on in your relationship that texting—or lack thereof— shouldn’t account to your relationship, especially since both of you are equally bad at it.

You didn’t think any of it since you were bound to see your boyfriend and your friends tomorrow for brunch anyway. He will have your undivided attention by then.

So imagine your surprise when you heard a soft knock from your door at 1 am, only to find Tom in disarray. His eyes were bloodshot red, tears falling down his face. His messy curls were masked under the hood from his jumper.

At first you were in panic, you thought that something terrible had happened to any of your friends—his family even.

But as soon as Tom dropped to his knees and whispered, “I’m sorry,” you had a clear idea what was bound to happen next.

It’s been silent for a while. The door was still open and Tom sat out in the hall with his back leaning against your wall. You did the same thing except you were on the other side of the wall that Tom was leaning on.

You two were close enough to the door frame that you could hear each other, actually facing each other was a whole other thing. Tears kept streaming down your face as you kept your eyes closed and rested your head against the wall.

At some point in your relationship, you prepared yourself in case this happened— that you would accept whatever happens between you and Tom. You didn’t exactly anticipate that it would happen so soon.

“Was there someone else?” You asked quietly. It was the first time you spoke after Tom dropped to his knees. You hoped there wasn’t. In fact, you silently begged to yourself that there wasn’t someone else, because you knew that you couldn’t handle that.

“No, no—of course not.” Tom immediately answers.”I could never do that to you.”

It was silent again. You were starting to feel numb—you tried your best to gather your thoughts and forced words out of your mouth, but you couldn’t.

“Are we not worth fighting anymore?” You practically whispered. It was a gamble— you weren’t exactly sure if Tom had heard it and you don’t have enough strength to ask it again.

“Y/N,” Tom sniffled. “You can’t say that.” He placed his hand on top of yours. You had your hand resting on the floor and you didn’t exactly notice that it served as an invitation for Tom hold it again.

You love Tom with all your heart. He kept dismissing it but Tom made you a better person. He made you feel like love can be expressed through different forms of things—not just words.

You loved him by exclusively making time for him. You went on museum dates where he would make cheesy remarks, saying that you’re the most remarkable piece of art in the entire place. You went on dates to watch football games—you never understood it but Tom was happy, so you were happy.

You loved him through your touch. You would often massage his back because he had been tirelessly working himself to the core. He didn’t ask for it but you knew it would make him feel better. Your touch didn’t have to be intimate—though you expressed it through that way too

You loved him through mindless actions. Almost every time you would stop by at the local cafe to grab yourself some coffee, you would always recite Tom’s favourite order on autopilot.

You loved him through silence. Study dates were gems for you. Even if you didn’t talk for the entirety of it and even if you were the only one who studied for the most part and Tom was just playing on his phone, having Tom beside you was enough.

You loved him so much that it pains you to think that maybe you weren’t enough for him.

“I don’t think I can fight for someone who doesn’t even want to,” You muttered bitterly. “Just answer the question, Tom.”

He didn’t answer. All you could hear were the silent sobs that you two were trying to hold back. At this point, you knew you wouldn’t look at Tom. Your heart wouldn’t take it—it will crush you.

“Are you not happy anymore?” Your voice cracked as you broke into a sob.

“Y/N—“ Tom squeezed your hand even more. You’re going to miss it, but you had to let go.

“Tom, if I’m standing in the way of your happiness then we should end this.” You cleared your throat and pulled your hand away. There’s a ghostly feeling that still lingered from Tom’s touch.

“Please, Y/N, let me explain—“

“It’s okay, Tom.” You whispered. “I understand.”

“You know I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Tom.”

“But—“

“But maybe it’s best if we end it, I know. I got it.” You let out a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down from crying. “Maybe it’s better if we stayed as friends.” Maybe it’s better to realize that whatever you and Tom had were too good to be true—that your love will never compare to the love he deserves.

“Do you want the truth?” You asked your friends, with tears forming in your eyes. You can’t even decipher how they looked at you because of the tears clouding your vision.

Were they looking at you in pity? Empathy? Sadness?

“The truth is—I’m mad.” You gritted the words through your teeth. This was the first time your friends had seen you like this. All of the pent-up sadness, aggression, and hurt you felt was starting to get the best of you.

“I’m angry. I’m hurt.” You snarled, furiously wiping the tears from your face. “I’m angry at the fact that I can’t seem to be genuinely happy for Tom. I’m hurt at the idea he seems to be a better boyfriend for Nadine, that he constantly makes an effort for her.”

“I don’t even know if he even loved me the way that I loved him,” Your voice became quiet “and it’s selfish for me to think that way because I never fought for it—for us. That’s enough reason to keep me up at night.”

That’s enough reason for you to wonder if you’ll be capable of loving someone so deeply again.

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@quaksonhehe @dark-infernal-instruments @trustfundparker @emsma11 @tomshufflepuff @spider-babe @goodgirlgonetom @tabi-toast

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #tom holland x you #tom holland x fem #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland blurb #tom holland and reader #tom holland and you #tom holland imagines #tom holland x y/n #tom holland au #tom holland and y/n #the girl writes i guess #txmhoellandwrites

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bangstawrites · 2 years

Text

“He was just an fantasy, you are real”

>>Summary: Ravn makes you realize your real feelings were at him, not at Leedo. >>Pairing: Ravn x Reader >>Warnings: fluff and little angst at first

>>Y/F/M: Your Favourite Movie

>> Y/F/N: Your Friends Name

There where night, and you, Hwanwoong and Seoho where all three in the open kitchen. You felt the stomach was hurting. Like someone was stabbing you with a big knife. You`ve been feeling that all day. Why on earth didn`t you tell your own friend that you also had feelings for the same man she had? The man she was going on a date with in a few minutes. You saw Leedo with a white, stunning shirt tucked into his pants. He was so handsome where is was going up the stairs. “Why couldn`t it be me?” you whispered to yourself. You had never experieced someone looking at you in a special way. You were never looked at twice. Your friend on the other hand, was always stunning and had the cutest aesthetic style you could possible imagine. She was coming from her room with a green long summerskirt, white shirt and a denim jacket on. Leedo was smiling at her. It was a horrible sight, from where you were sitting. Of course, you haven`t said anything to him, but you also liking him, but why should you? It was too late anyway. “Should we go?” Leedo asked your friend. She was smiling so bright. She was running to you and whispered “Wish me good luck, Y/N” You smiled and escorted them out. You saw them walking from the garden and out in the street.

You sat down on the balcony for a while, before you suddenly startled from a voice “Everything alright out here?” whispered in your ear. “OH MY GOD YOUNG-JO, YOU FRIGHTENED ME!!!” you shouted at him. He laughed. “Sorry for interrupting your space, but you were looking so cold” You were giving him a look that everything is allright. He just nodded. “If you getting bored sitting out here, may I tempt you with a movie night?” You started feeling a little better, and you knew you couldn`t reject such an fine opportunity. “After you” he smiled and showed you the way to the stairs. He was getting the whole floor from the 2.floor, with a big tv, cute pillows, bookcases and a huge bed, for himself. “Now i want you to tell me your favourite movie, if you have one” He started to excel with the tv controller and clicked into numbers of movie apps. “WOW, how many apps do you have on this thing?” you asked. “I like movie nights, I need many options for my passion” You just nodded and tried thinking about numbers of movies you know you have loved in many years. “Oh. what about Y/F/M?” Ravn was looking at you with big eyes. “Do you love that movie as well?” he asked excited. “Well..yeah, I have loved it since I saw it for the first time” You swored you could see fireworks in his eyes. “Well, let`s see that movie, then” He was trying to make it comfortable, by making some good pillows you could sit on. He find a cute green blanket you could have. “You`re not going to get cold on my watch” He whispered while the movie was rolling. You didn`t know what is was, but you felt some kind of butterflies in your stomach while you saw him focused on the screen. The tv-light gave him some kind of warm glowing apperance, and you enjoyed every second of it.

He noticed you were watching him, because now he turned his head to you. “You ok?” he whispered. “Yes, thank you” you smiled as you turned to the screen again. You were always bad at noticing when people were looking at you, but you still felt that also Ravn was sometimes looking at you. Suddenly you both were turning your head at the same time. That made both of you, laugh. “Maybe we should keep watching the movie?” you giggled and kept your blanket tighter. You couldn`t help but now sharing the blanket with him. “You`re not gonna be cold on my watch either” you smiled at him. He just stared at you “I don`t think that is possible” he said. You two just kept staring at each other, when the phone interruptet you “Hey, Y/N?” You could hear it was your friend, sulking. “What`s wrong?” you asked as you turned to Ravn with sad eyes. He could almost hear what your friend was saying. “Can you come pick me up? I don`t know where I am, and Leedo walked away from me?” You felt a sudden frustration. “What are you saying?” you said furious. “He..I will tell you when you come, just please, pick me up” She said she was in some kind of gas station, and you suddenly knew where it was. It was not very far from the house, so you could just walk to her. “That`s ok, I`m coming” You told Ravn what happened and he felt your frustration with Leedo. “I can talk to him when he get here, and then we can maybe continue the movie night after?” he asked. You couldn`t help but find him so adorable. “Of course, I`ll be right back” you said as you grabbed your black denim jacket and heading out. You find Leedo just outside the door, as he was going in. “Shame on you, Leedo” you said as you were running past him. You could hear Ravn caught him inside.

You ran as fast as you can. You didn`t have to run very far, because the gas station were laying at the end of the road, on the other side of the traffical road. You spotted your friend sitting on one of the bench right next to the door at the gas station. “There you are” you breathed. It was clearly that she cried before you came. Her cheek and eyes were puffy and red. “Explain to me what happened” you sat down and stroke her hair. “After we had the dinner, he suddenly became quiet. I thought we had this magical evening, but I guess we had different experience about that, because he afterwards told me he didn`t feel the same way, and thought we should stay friends” She continued sobbing. You could understand the pain she was feeling right now. Many heartbreaks, many sorrow. “Anyway, that is enough about me” she stopped and looked at you, before she continued “How was your night going, before I interrupted” You looked up at the sky, wondering if you should tell her how wonderful the night went, how Ravn loved your taste in movie and the easy conversations. “It was fine, actually” you finally told. Your friend smiled a little, and could tell on your look. “Who you`ve been with?” she asked. You blushed. “Ravn” Your friend giggled “I thought so” “How did you know, actually?” you asked. She gave you the (its so obvious)-look. “I have seen the look he have given you these past few days, how you laugh when you are with him and how you just put off the same vibe. It is not hard to tell, Y/N. You blushed even more. “Even I didn`t know I liked him until tonight” You stood up and took your friends hand. “Come on, let`s take you home and make you sleep, we can talk about this tomorrow” you said as you walked her home to the house again.

You couldn`t see one person in the kitchen, nor the livingroom. Your friend thought that was for the best. “I really don`t want to meet him again” she said as she looked around. “I can see that. Why don`t you go downstairs? I`m gonna join you after the movie is done” you said and heading upstairs. Ravn was almost asleep against the wall, waiting for you. “Ravn? You tired?” you whispered, as you didn`t want to startled him. He opened one eye. “it`s okay, I will be able to finish the movie first” he yawned. You laughed. “I can tell” He was a little embarrased that he became that tired before you came back, but he didn`t chanced this mind. He will finish that movie. “How is Y/F/N?” he asked as he was making himself a comfortable sitting position. “She will get through it, but she isn`t good right now. I think she was really liking him” Ravn nodded. As it was back on again, he turned to you. “Y/N, can I ask you something?” You just looked at him. “Wasn`t you also interested in him?” He feared the answer, as you heard, so you would try to make this easy for him. “I thought so. But I learned something tonight. I wanted him to be something he obviously wasn`t, that isn`t fair to him or me. He was just a fantasy, but you are the real one”

#oneus #ravn #leedo #hwanwoong #seoho #xion #keonhee #fanfic #imagine #fluff #angst #friends #crush #kpop #kpop boys

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superbadassnatural · 4 years

Text

Falling in Love

Summary: Sam has been in love with Y/N for quite a while and he does everything to win her heart. Square filled: Courting/courtship rituals (spntfwbingo) // Free Space (spnsongchallengebingo: Kiss me - Ed Sheeran) Pairing: Sam x Reader Word count: 4,624 Warnings: fluff and only fluff A/N: this was written for @spntfwbingo and @spnsongchallengebingo! I really enjoyed writing this one. This story was mildly inspired by The Vampire Diaries 3.14. The gifs are mine (I just learned how to make and I’m so happy). Oh, and this is the dress in case you’re wondering. Hope you enjoy it!

The sound of your heels echoed through the hall as you walked out of the elevator and headed to your office. The small chatter, the non stop pacing and the tired eyes were common things on Monday mornings.

“Good morning, Olivia,” you greeted your personal assistant as you stopped by her desk.

“Good morning, Y/N,” her lips curled into a sweet smile. “How was your weekend?”

“Oh, you know, just lots of work. I’ve been working on this case and the court hearing is next week so it’s taking a toll on me. Other than that I binged watch The Walking Dead,” you shrugged. “How about you? Did you go out with Thomas?”

“I did,” she sighed as she finished typing. “He’s not that fun. I think we just didn’t click.”

“That sucks.”

“Yep, but I had fun this weekend. Had some quality ‘me’ time. Although I need to catch up on The Walking Dead,” she chuckled.

“You do. It’s really great. I’m loving it.”

“Morning, gorgeous,” his voice echoed in your ears as he walked past you.

“Morning, ass,” you said as you turned to him, only to see his back as he headed to his office.

“Morning to your ass, too,” Sam said before shutting his door and winking at you.

“When are you going to give him a chance?”

“Never?” you scoffed.

“C’mon, Y/N,” Olivia nearly whined. “Sam likes you and deep down you like him too.”

“Liv, we work together. It would never work.”

“We work together and we are still friends,” she argued, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“It’s different and you know it,” you sighed. “Alrighty, guess I have to get my work started then. Oh and get us some coffee, please.”

“Roger that.”

She stood up and headed to the coffee machine down the hall as you walked towards your office. You opened the door and the first thing your eyes landed on was the bouquet of pink and orange-ish roses sitting on your desk. As usual, there was a champagne envelope in the middle of them. You opened and again you found yourself amazed by his calligraphy.

You look gorgeous today, Y/N. As always. Fondly, Sam

A smile made its way to your lips as you read his words. He was so sweet. A good way to start your day.

After turning on your computer, you sent Olivia a message, asking her to get you a vase. You placed the envelope in your purse. Once you get home, you’re going to put it in your box along with all the notes and letters he had sent you.

Although you only met Sam on your first day working on Winchester’s Legal Firm, your mother was friends with Mary. After you graduated from Harvard she told Mary you were a lawyer looking for a job. John contacted you and set up a job interview.

The first time you walked in the building, you were mesmerized. It was enormous. It looked exactly like a law firm from the tv shows you used to watch. On your first day, John introduced you to Sam, his youngest son who had chosen to stay in the family business. At the time, it had been three years since he’d graduated from Stanford. Sam helped you get settled in and showed you around the firm.

You had started small. At first you got small cases and sometimes a more experienced lawyer would help you out and guide you. John made sure you got help from the best lawyers in the company. Sometimes you felt like you were treated differently because you were the daughter of a friend, but when you brought it up to him, he denied. He said he did that for everyone starting in his company. You knew that wasn’t true.

Nowadays you work on cases that appear on the news. Your face appeared on tv a few times. You found it odd when you saw yourself on the news during prime time. Your mom would always send a picture of the screen of her television with you in it, telling you she was proud. Sam did that sometimes too. He’d shoot you a message saying how beautiful you were or how your voice sounds so perfect when it echoes in his home.

A soft knock on your door pulled your attention away from your screen.

“C’mon in,” the door opened and revealed Olivia with the vase you asked.

“Wow, these are gorgeous,” she said as her eyes landed on the bouquet. “And smell good too.”

“Yeah, they do,” you smiled, placing the flowers in the vase. “I bet his PA chose these ones. He usually gets me blue roses or dahlias or even sunflowers,” you shrugged.

“Trust me, he chose these,” she said. “I have known Sam Winchester since I was fifteen, he wouldn’t ask for someone else to buy flowers for the girl he likes.”

“He doesn’t like me, Liv,” you shook your head. “He likes flirting with me. He likes courting me like I’m some damsel,” you explained to her with a roll of your eyes. “He likes the idea of me. That’s it.”

“Sure, Y/N, keep telling yourself that,” she sighed exasperated. “You need anything?” you shook your head and she walked out of your office.

You had much more important things to focus on than Sam’s feelings for you and his attempts to win your heart.

When you first met Sam, he was shy and mostly quiet, but as the time passed, he became more comfortable around you. Then you both started flirting and joking around. When feelings started to get in the way, things escalated to another level. Whilst Sam grew more caring and started trying to win your heart, you tried to put some distance between you. Sam is adorable and he’s a boyfriend material, but you worked together. You worked for his father. Sam never gave up though you gave him every reason why it wasn’t going to work. He didn’t even bother to hide his feelings from others. Everyone knew he liked you and that he bought you flowers every now and then. Sam has been courting you for about a year now. You enjoyed everything he did for you. He bought you nice gifts — some of which were really expensive — along with cute notes or letters. Every now and then something would be delivered at your home or your office. At the beginning, you tried to return it to him, but he wouldn’t take it back, so you stopped bothering.

Later that day, you heard familiar soft knocks on the door. You muttered a ‘come in’ as you looked through the papers scattered on your desk.

“Hey,” he smiled, shutting the door behind him. “How you doing?”

Sam was wearing his graphite suit with a marigold tie. He looked so damn good in those. It should be a crime.

“Hey,” you glanced up at him, eyes meeting his hazel ones. “I’m tired and stressed. You?”

“I’m okay,” he sat on your desk. “Still working on that murder case?”

“Yeah,” you stretched as a yawn left your lips. “I have to be in court again next Tuesday. Can’t wait to get this over with.”

He smiled sympathetically. His hazel eyes roamed around the room in search of something you couldn’t quite point out.

“D’you like it?” his head motioned to the flowers that were now decorating your bookcase.

“I did. They are gorgeous,” you stood from your seat, walking towards the shelf. “Your assistant knows which ones to buy,” you scoffed.

“What makes you think Charlie bought these?” he asked, standing beside you.

“Well, you certainly don’t have the time to go out and buy a bouquet of flowers for me, Winchester.”

“I do. It takes some time to choose which one I think you’d like better, but it’s worth it,” he shrugged. “Also, I really aced the color of the flowers. See, they match your clothes,” a cocky smile hung on his lips as his fingers motioned to your clothes.

He was right. It did match. You were wearing a cream bow neck blouse and bright pink pants along with nude heels.

“This one is the same color as your pants,” he pointed and you chuckled. “You coming to the ball next Saturday?”

“I dunno,” you pursed your lips, heading back to your desk. “I’m not really in the mood and I don’t have a fancy gown.”

“You should come. It’s the company’s 50th anniversary. My mom has been planning this party for a long time and she would love to see you there,” he tried to convince you. “As for the dress, that can be arranged.”

“Sam, don’t,” you warned him with wide eyes.

“Argh, fine,” he sighed. “I should probably let you get back to work.”

————

You unlocked the door to your home. A feeling of relief washing through your body as you stepped inside. There was nothing better than coming home after an exhausting day of work.

Relaxing on the shower, you washed your body. The stress leaving you with every stroke of your loofah over your skin. You needed this. After drying yourself and putting on some baggy clothes, you headed to the kitchen to make yourself dinner.

The doorbell rang. You jumped and then frowned. You weren’t expecting anyone. Opening the door, you noticed no one was there, but a paper bag was on your doorstep. You picked it up and brought it inside. You opened and a paper with his gorgeous handwriting sat on top of the things he bought.

Olivia told me you needed these...

Inside the paper bag there were some chocolate bars, gummy bears, chips and protein bars. At the bottom, you found a box of ibuprofen and another of ketoprofen along with another note.

Thought you might need these too. Also, in case you want something warm to cuddle and keep the pain away, text me and I’ll grab my pillow and come over ;p

You smiled at his words. He was so caring. It was the first time he did this kind of thing. As much as you were in complete awe over his endearment, you were also pissed that he knew when you were on your period. Damn you, Liv.

You thanked him over text and said you had a heating pad to cuddle and it was pretty capable of keeping the pain away, teasing him. Sam… he cared too much about you. He was investing his time and spending his money in a possible relationship that didn’t have a future.

---------

The days flew as you kept yourself busy with your big case and a few small ones. After the court hearing, everything became lighter. You had won the case and the defendant was given a life sentence without the possibility of parole. You were happy with how that had turned out.

As Saturday came closer, all everyone talked about was the company’s anniversary party. A part of you wanted to go. You needed to let yourself loose a little and spending some time with your colleagues outside of work would be great. But another part of you wanted to stay home, relaxing on your bathtub and binge-watching your favorite tv show. You still haven’t decided yet.

Every year, Mary and John threw fancy parties for the company’s anniversary. This time it’s going to be even fancier. A ball for its fiftieth birthday. It was a big deal so it deserved a bigger celebration. You understood that, but you didn’t like going to balls. You didn’t even have a long fancy dress to begin with. And you weren’t so sure you’d have fun at such a formal event. Olivia said she’d lend you a dress. She was the same size as you so it would fit, but you still weren’t sure if you were going to go.

You finished typing in your computer just as your clock marked it was time to go home. Fridays were usually busy and stressful, but not today and for that you were glad. Grabbing your purse, you walked out of the building and went straight for your car, starting the engine. You couldn’t wait to get home. Everyone had a day off tomorrow because of the party. You had less than twenty four hours to decide whether you should go or not. For now, at least until you get home, you will ignore the messages asking if you were going. They will know when you decide. And for them, you mean Sam, Olivia, and Mary.

Mary was friends with your mother. Although you only met her later when you filled an application to work in her firm, she liked you a lot. When you were a teenager you had heard many stories of her and your mom about their high school years. You had seen many pictures of her, but never had seen her in person. She cared a lot about you. She’d always tell you to give her son a chance. She said he deserved a person like you, but you just brushed it off and told her it wouldn’t work and he would only get hurt.

As you parked your car, you noticed a maroon package on your doorstep. Your eyebrows knitted into a frown. That was odd. You haven't ordered anything. You picked it up and walked inside. After locking the door and placing your purse over the counter, you headed to your room with the box in your hands. This could only be Sam. You placed it in your bed. It was a beautiful box, it had a cream satin ribbon tied into a bow. You sucked in a deep breath before opening it. What did he buy you this time?, you wondered.

Opening the box, a sapphire blue gown revealed itself before your eyes. You gasped. Sam had bought you expensive stuff before, but this was on a whole new level. You stared wide-eyed at the dress folded beautifully. You couldn’t find it in you to touch it. Slowly, your fingers reached for the satin, grazing over the material. This couldn’t be real. He didn’t do that. He couldn’t. At this point, you didn’t even want to know how much it cost him. Reluctantly, you took the gown in your hands, removing from the box. It was one of the most beautiful dresses you had ever seen. A cream envelope rested at the bottom of the box. Your name was written in a neat handwriting. You opened it and read the letter.

Save me a dance. Yours, Sam.

A smaller paper with his handwriting followed.

Olivia told me your size. Hope it fits. If it doesn’t, give me a call. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow night.

You stared fixed at the smaller note, slack-jawed. He has really gone through all that effort just to get you a gown for a ball you didn’t even know you were going. Well, now you had to despite wanting to go or not. Sam had really outdone himself this time.

Sam had bought you jewelry before and you were sure it was expensive as hell. Sometimes he brought your favorite dish to your office so you’d stop working and have lunch. He knew if he didn’t do that, you’d spend the afternoon without eating because you were too busy. He got flowers delivered to your office and to your home. He left you sticky notes just to let you know he was thinking about you. Once he met this guy that could draw realistic things and he asked him to draw you. He showed him his favorite picture of you and the man drew you. At the bottom of the paper, it said ‘this feels like falling in love’. Sam was everything you could ask for in a guy. Sometimes you wonder why you just didn’t let him all the way in. He had the potential to destroy you in ways no one ever could. That scared you.

————

Saturday had started just like any other day. Except it felt as if it was actually Sunday because you had the day off. You went grocery shopping and used some of your free time to clean your apartment. Although you didn’t like to admit it, you were nervous about tonight. You were afraid of meeting Sam in a tux and feeling something different when you looked at him. You had tried for so long to keep your feelings shutted down and buried in the bottom of your heart. Now they were just all over the place. They were on the gorgeous gown in the box. They were on the blue roses in your living room, on the bright pink roses in your office. They were on the face masks he bought you, on the bath bombs he knew you liked. They were impregnated on the necklaces and earrings in your drawer. Your home had pieces of him everywhere. Most important, he was in your mind and heart.

After a relaxing bath, you put on your robe and placed your make-up on the counter. You didn’t want to do something heavy but you also didn’t want something too light. As your hair dried out, you started working on your make-up. Your skin was already moisturized so you prepared it with primer before applying a light coat of foundation. Then concealer for a light coverage, followed by foundation powder, a bit of bronzer and blush here and there, and highlighter. So far, you were satisfied with the results. You opened your eyeshadow pallete and opted for lighter shades. After curling your eyelashes, you wriggle the brush of your favorite mascara across the roots of your lashes. Then you applied your favorite lipstick over your lips and finalized your makeup with setting spray. By the time you finished, your hair had almost completely dried out.

Your heart started to pound in your chest as you entered your bedroom. You stared at the gown that was now on hanger. It seemed that it would tear itself apart if you touched it. It was so beautiful. Silvery jewels along the bodice. Thin blue straps only made it look even more delicate. The long, sapphire blue, silk-pleated skirt had you swooning.

You shrugged off your robe, pooling around your feet, and walked towards the dress. Your fingers brushed over its skirt. Sucking in a deep breath, you removed the gown of the hanger and put it on. It fitted perfectly, just like you anticipated. You walked to the full length mirror and were mesmerized. Jaw-slacked, you absorbed all the details of the gown. It felt as if it was designed just for you. The color blue looked good on you. The gown hugged your body in all its smoothness. You turned a little to get a full glance, the skirt swooned around your ankles. In that moment, you have never felt so beautiful.

After waking up from your trance, you knew exactly which heels to put on. Few months ago, you bought this pair of white heels that held a little bit of silver and were extremely comfortable. They probably wouldn’t be visible, but they matched the dress perfectly. You picked a delicate necklace Sam gave you to go along.

Your hair was done in no time. You had opted for pinning it up in a loose and edgy updo. A few loose locks of hair graced your face.

You called an uber and in twenty minutes you found yourself in front of the hotel. A sign pointed to the right indicated the ball was that way. You took a deep breath before walking in that direction. Deep down, you were nervous, but you were also confident about the way you looked. This time you might actually fit in.

Your eyes widened as you stepped foot into the room. The decoration was in shades of gold and white with a little silvery here and there. Your eyes searched for him in the crowded room. It was inevitable. Everytime you’d walk into a room you knew Sam was in, your eyes wouldn’t stop roaming around the area in search of him. They found him. He wore a shiny black tuxedo along with a black tie. It fitted his body perfectly and only made his shoulder look broader. In other words, he was hot as hell.

In a matter of seconds, Sam’s hazel eyes found yours. His gaze fixed on you. He had to use every last ounce of his strength to not to gasp. Yet, his lips parted. How did you manage to look even more beautiful? Sam couldn’t hear what his coworkers were talking about. He couldn’t hear the music playing. His attention was solely on you. Your lips curled into a smile as you held up your hand and mouthed a “hi” before making your way to Mary and John.

“Y/N,” Mary beamed, hugging you. “You look beautiful, sweetie. I’m so glad you came.”

“Yeah, I’m glad too,” you smiled.

“Please, help yourself. I think your friends are here already. If you need anything, just look for us,” she winked, leaving to welcome other guests.

Before you had the chance to walk to your friends, Sam approached you, offering you a glass of champagne.

“You look stunning tonight,” his eyes glistening as he stared at you.

“Thank you,” you smiled, as you sipped at your glass. “For everything. I mean, if you didn’t buy me this gown, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Oh, you know, I was just passing by then I saw this dress on a shop window and thought of you.”

“Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that,” you scoffed. “I think I owe you a dance, don’t I?”

“You do,” he smiled, placing yours and his empty glasses on a table nearby.

You noticed him signaling to someone, before he held out his hand. You gladly took it and let him walk you to the center of the room. A few people were dancing. The song ended and a slower one filled your ears. One you knew too well. Your lips curled into a smile.

His right hand made its way to your lower back. Your left hand resting on his shoulder as the other held his big, rough hand. As your eyes met his hazel orbs, everyone seemed to dissolve around you.

Settle down with me Cover me up Cuddle me in Lie down with me And hold me in your arms

The rhythm of the song guided your movements. For the first time, you were nervous around Sam Winchester. He pulled you a little closer and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

And your heart's against my chest, your lips pressed in my neck I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet And with a feeling I'll forget, I'm in love now

“Someone once sent me a playlist they created with songs that reminded them of me. This song was the first one and they said it was their favorite,” you teased.

“I wonder who that is,” he smirked.

“Oh, you know, just some guy I happen to have a thing for.”

Kiss me like you wanna be loved You wanna be loved You wanna be loved

The warm pressure of his hand on the small of your back made uncontrollable feelings surge through your body. You were overwhelmed. You had let him in. All the way in. Sam Winchester has won your heart. There was no holding back now. Your body was acting on its own, it was at his mercy.

He leaned his head closer to yours. “This feels like falling in love. Falling in love. We're falling in love,” he whispered ever so softly against your ear.

Settle down with me And I'll be your safety You'll be my lady I was made to keep your body warm But I'm cold as the wind blows so hold me in your arms

You drew him closer to you. It felt as if you couldn’t get enough of him. Your eyes glistened as you stared at his beautiful face.

Oh no My heart's against your chest, your lips pressed in my neck I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet And with this feeling I'll forget, I'm in love now

He was so close. His breath fanning at your cheeks. Once again you let him sway your body around and around, your gown billowing out. His face was perfect. His hazel eyes held a spark every time he looked at you. His slightly parted lips only made you want to taste them. You love him. Simple as that.

Kiss me like you wanna be loved You wanna be loved You wanna be loved This feels like falling in love Falling in love We're falling in love

You couldn’t refrain your eyes from staring at his pink lips. They were so kissable. You were drawn to them.

“If someone had said to me a guy would spend a whole year courting me and trying to make his way to my heart, I’d have laughed and then punched them.”

“Well, you deserve to be courted,” he shrugged. “If you let me, I’ll spend the rest of our lives worshiping you.”

You continued to dance and spin around the room. You were amazed at yourself for not squishing his foot under your own not even once. The lights seemed to twinkle with every step as you spun delicately.

Yeah I've been feeling everything From hate to love From love to lust From lust to truth I guess that's how I know you So I hold you close to help you give it up

As the song came closer to its end, Sam raised his hand to your upper-middle back. He applied a gentle pressure to your back to let you know he wanted to dip you. You trusted him completely to not let you fall. You were safe in his arms. He mildly lowered you backward.

So kiss me like you wanna be loved You wanna be loved You wanna be loved This feels like falling in love Falling in love We're falling in love

Your eyes were locked. His hazel orbs glistened as they seemed to stare deep into your soul. Your whole body ignited with something you’ve never felt before. His pupils dilated as he took in every trace of your face, every detail. Your breath was caught in your throat. Your eyes remained lost in his as he pulled you back up with him. Your breasts pressed firm to his chest.

Both of his hands were placed on your hips now as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You smiled before capturing his lips into a passionate kiss. The whole world fell away once again. Your brain was lit on fire as a warm spread through your entire body.

Kiss me like you wanna be loved You wanna be loved You wanna be loved This feels like falling in love Falling in love We're falling in love

He managed to pull you closer to him until there was no space between you. Until you could feel his heart beating against your chest. His tongue grazed over your lower lip and at your granted access he delved into your mouth. The caress and the strokes of his tongue were softer than you could have imagined. You could never have enough of him. He was intoxicating, but in a good way. You felt his lips curl into a smile before you parted.

“We’re falling in love,” you whispered between panting breaths before pecking his lips once again.

Feedback is greatly appreciated! You can send it my way via reply, reblog or ask!

Sam Babes:

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alias-b · 4 years

Text

sins of my youth. 004

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hello all! Pushing out a baby chapter early so I can focus on my other fic! Thank you so much for the support on this fic. Billy goes to dinner and Tries It. That's the chapter. :D Tag list open!!!

Chapter 4: No Day But Today

“Claudia, do you have the keys?” Mona crossed the salon floor.

“I do, we’re fine here, go on. Dusty is spending the night at the Wheeler’s place. Having some castle and dragons party.” She'd gushed.

“Feel free to close up early if we’re dead the last hour. Thanks, sugar.” Mona patted her back as she followed Evie out the door.

“Can I drive?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.” Mona smiled.

Evie was saving for a car. And college. And her future.

And it was a lot.

Truthfully, she didn’t care for school. It was in the way. Wished her lyrics could carry her straight to the red carpet before all those flashing paparazzi.

Wanting to unwind, Evie hid in her room when she got home. Shut the curtains and prodded at herself before the vanity. Sorted dangly earrings in a mesh metal display. Huffing to lean over when Bourbon swept into her legs. His little body shivered and she plucked him up.

“Okay, BB, you’re my best guy. You can’t let me down.” She scratched under his chin, gave him a little boop on the nose. “You take one look at that walking Def Leppard poster and you hiss and run. Got it?”

A purr.

“Good boy. You’re my only hope here. We can’t lose. Not to Billy Hargrove.” Arms let him down. She'd feel this sentiment often about Billy. A sigh. Evie applied a fresh lip color and paused. “Ugh.” She pushed up and didn’t change. Did her school work to get it out of the way and wandered out, turning the TV on to some game show. The savory smell of dinner wafted. “Need help here, Mom?” One tug and the ceiling fan spun, cycling cooler air.

“No, I have it. You can set the table for me.” Mona drained some noodles.

“Got it.” Plates and cutlery clicked around. Evie slid everything into place, perked up when the doorbell rang. Mona turned and smiled as her daughter adjusted fabric and fixed curls into place all the way to the door.

Evie half expected Billy to not even show. But, there he was. Sly smile and all. Billow of date night cologne. A vision in moonlight.

“Hey.” Evie said slowly. The surprise evident.

“Hey." He mirrored it.

"You're here." An exhale out. He blinked, found himself again.

"I was gonna steal flowers from the old lady’s garden across the way, but there’s a huge opossum in her trash guarding it.” He tilted his head, earring catching the porch light and she cracked a grin.

"Big Ben? Yeah, he's the neighborhood menace. Chief Hopper's nemesis because they get so many calls about it. You'd be a hero if you took him on." Evie persuaded lighter. His face fell.

"I'm not trying to die in Hawkins, Indiana. That thing was bigger than anyone on our football team."

“Color me impressed. King Billy didn’t want to do battle for the first time?” She actually teased him. Her nose crinkled when she smiled. Cute. “Shock and awe.”

Billy felt this tug pulse up his ribcage. Pulled a genuine chuckle from his lips. He had to look away to give it. Glowy in starlight.

“Sometimes I surprise people. I know my weight class and the pests here look like they were grown and mutated in some lab.” He shrugged into the door frame with one fist lifted, clicking his lighter shut. Hooded eyes all over. Evie went still as he leaned forward to her face with his tone lowering. “Am I allowed inside? Pretty please?”

“With cherries on top?" Bright, wet lips parted. His lashes fluttered, a baritone sinking. Bringing her with him.

"With anything your heart desires on top." Smooth.

"Huh. I guess. For now.” Evie stepped out of the way. “We go to school with plenty of those lab grown pests by the way.”

“No kidding.” Billy shrugged his jacket off and she awkwardly reached to take it. Hung it up behind her.

Evie turned to see him staring again and swallowed a hard lump down. Thought maybe he saw all the begonias blooming behind her eyes and up her throat.

“Billy.” Mona came out of the kitchen, arms out. “So glad you’re here.”

“You saved me from a sad date with a TV dinner.” Billy winked, charming Ms. Fenny to bits. She giggled and shook her hair out.

“Dinner’s got about ten minutes. Why don’t you show him around, baby?” Mona hurried back off, leaving them alone again.

“Tour? Great idea." He peered behind Evie. A mission at hand. "Where’s the cat?”

“Hiding from you, clearly.” Evie beamed, gesturing. “Welcome to the living room. Mom's showroom is a better word.”

“Your mom like tchotchkes or what?” He came to the full mantle. Scanning.

“How’d you guess?” Evie reluctantly trailed to his side.

It was strange to let this boy wander around and see little bits of her life. Guess things about her as he went along, trailing deft fingers about the fireplace. She wondered what was blooming within the pit of his stomach, if anything.

Mona Fenny's house overwhelmed.

Photographs, plants, and crafts. Little porcelain figurines. Too many handmade candles. Crochet projects. A full dollhouse on a table in the corner.

“My grandma passed a lot of craft skills down. She owned this amazingly strange trinket and voodoo shop in New Orleans that my aunts run now after Nana died."

"Your mom didn't stay for a piece of that?" Billy let his eyes trail over every little thing.

"Ah, I don't know. She was the baby and married pretty young. Seemed like she wanted something new," Evie peered behind her and whispered. "Never really got along with Nana like her older sisters did."

Billy hummed a little. Decided not to pry with Mona in the next room. Evie brought him to the corner and flicked a lamp on.

"Mom’s dollhouse is her pride and joy. Lights up and everything.”

“Tell me why your mother has a framed photograph of Dolly Parton next to a picture of you two on the fireplace. And the same photo shrunk down in the dollhouse?”

“Science may tell us the truth one day when the world is ready. And I fear for that day.” She replied in all seriousness and Billy snorted. Laughing.

A truly enchanting sound Evie decided she liked.

“And I have to say,” he plucked a photo off a bookshelf with a broad grin, “this one is my favorite.”

One of Evie on Halloween. Had to be about six. Dressed in the campiest pink daisy costume with a huge toothy smile.

“Gah,” she cringed and swiped it from his hand, “this house is a museum of embarrassment.”

“You’re into the museum shit, guess this is like our first-” Billy stopped himself from producing the damning word when Evie turned. Blushing. Oof. He scratched the back of his neck. “So, uh, you got a bedroom in here or do you sleep in the dollhouse?”

“You won’t find the cat that easily.” She caught him peering around again and led him past the kitchen. “C’mon, not much to the rest of the house. Garage. Spare room.” That used to be her dad’s office space. “Mom’s room. Attic up there and on this end. My cat's room that he lets me stay in too.”

The door was open so Billy prodded it to peek inside. Evie exhaled and flicked the light on.

It didn’t feel like a teenage girl’s bedroom. Not covered in decorations and pictures like the rest of the house. No posters cut from magazines covered in pink lipstick kisses.

A vanity full of disorganized makeup. Desk. Overfilled bookcase of novels and tapes. Crafts and trinkets she collected in labeled tin boxes. Dresser covered in jewelry. Music player. Bed. Closet. Couple of pictures taped by the vanity and headboard. Mostly Evie and Heather laughing and bright. Her beloved acoustic guitar propped in the corner.

It felt like it was decorated by one trying to take up as little space as possible. Everything was compacted. Billy eyed the wall by her bed. Realized most of the papers were notes with random lyrics and words patched together.

“Yeah, I tend to jot every little thought down even when I’m half asleep and hope it makes a song eventually.” She peered aside. It felt too intimate, letting Billy shift about the space.

"Hey, everybody has a method." Two fingers traced over a note taped up to straighten it. She caught the ring gleaming on his middle finger. “My-”

“Ah, don’t read them aloud, I may combust.”

“Oh?” Billy slunk toward her, licked his lips. A hungry way about it. Mouth watering fangs full of sweet venom. Wonder how they'd feel sinking into her throat. “Because I make you nervous, Angel?”

“No, it’s just...just…weird.” Evie pressed up into her desk. Billy closed the distance. Got within inches of her. “It’s weird.”

Repetition didn’t ease the sear of those ocean eyes drowning her too sweetly. She felt her chest fill and flutter all the way down. Flowers unfurled to be plucked and caressed. Billy pushed into the space until she was seated there on the desk. Scrambling further. Unable to climb the wall.

“You do seem nervous though, Evie.” His tone hushed. Fingers brushed her thighs and palms came to rest there. The bunched fabric of her dress barely separating them. She inhaled his cologne. Smelled peppermint from his breath. Chest heaving.

Billy knew this wasn’t part of the quest. If that’s what this was, maybe that was a nicer way to put it. Maybe rationalizing it a thousand times would help him get some sleep at night. Just show her a good night, cash in, and go home.

It still sounded shitty. Wasn't doing Evie any favors. This girl painted too many iridescent colors. They could bleed and Billy wouldn't step away if it pooled too close.

He liked to watch the blush spread across her freckled cheeks. Rose petals falling into a cool pond. Liked the way her nose scrunched when she smiled and when she was cross with him.

Billy didn't want her because she was a conquest. A challenge. Sure, she challenged him, that was part of it. And she also made him smile like he was looking at the rocking ocean waves again. Sand and wind kissing his warm skin. There was a mystery in those molten eyes he wanted to taste for himself. Maybe it was possible to just enjoy a person without strings.

To let colors bleed and swirl. To just watch it happen without fear or judgement. To not step away from it either. Just sink right in and create those echoing ripples.

It was too sweet and peculiar, how soft Evangeline Fenny was against the hard edges of his steel frame. So sharp, it warded everyone off.

But, not Evie, she fit perfectly against him. Fire with fire. It gave them so much in this world that had forgotten them both. Freckles to count. Eyelashes to wish upon. Flesh curves and razor angles to explore.

Hell, he even enjoyed how shaken she got as he neared and how still she went when his fingers trailed up her legs.

Evie watched his muscled chest rise, the saint pendant caught the light. Looked up at his eyes and then his mouth because it couldn’t be helped. Billy Hargrove filled Evie's space and lungs with sugary smoke. He was too many colors in one soul. So, he pushed further because those painted lips were big and full and right fucking there.

One curious taste, that couldn't hurt.

Brought his hand up toward her chin and leaned forth when…

“Dinner!”

Evie practically shoved Billy back. Scrambled up so the desk gave a rut. Bright red as he stumbled.

“Sorry.” She shuddered, passing him. Smelling of amber perfume. “Coming, mom.” Billy stared at the back of her hair. Blinked a couple times to pull himself together. To rationalize some.

Curiosity. A deadly thing and so sweet too.

It felt like he was dreaming and woke up sitting at the dinner table. Evie clicked a Coke in front of him, flashed a knowing expression that made him smirk before she sat down.

“Now, I left a bowl in the kitchen to cool. We always bring extra to Miss Abigail, she’s three doors down.” Mona was setting plates about.

“It looks amazing, Ms. Fenny.” Billy even shifted a dish to help make room for another.

“Please, Billy, just Mona. Ms. Fenny was my mother and she was a harder woman.” She set a glass of water down and smoothed her dress out, sitting. Billy went for his fork and his hand was snatched. Evie shot him a look as Mona reached out. “I always say grace. Don’t feel pressured to join, sweetheart.”

Billy peered at Evie’s warm hand in his and accepted her mother’s. Bowed his head a little so Mona could say her prayer.

“Bless us, oh Lord. For this and all we are about to receive, make us truly grateful. And thank you for bringing Billy to our humble table, may he truly feel welcomed in our home. Please guide and protect him. Through Christ, we pray. Amen.”

“Amen.” Evie offered softer. Lips lifting when Billy peered at their hands again leaving each other. Clearly not expecting such words from a neighbor.

“You’ll forgive me, Billy, some people say they leave their hearts open. I just let mine fill the room.” Mona settled a napkin in her lap. “May I ask, if your family is religious at all?”

“Dad’s Lutheran.” Which meant Susan was by default now whatever she believed before. “We don’t go to church or anything.”

As if Neil Hargrove could drag his son under a steeple without one of them spontaneously combusting.

“Well, that’s perfectly fine.” Mona cut each of her meatballs into smaller pieces which Evie mirrored. “Evie doesn’t attend with me when I go. Although, the choir sure misses her voice.”

“Mom...” A teenage whine, near silent as she prodded at noodles.

“She get all the solos?” Billy encouraged the pink spreading Evie’s cheeks.

“Oh, every single one. She’s even been asked to come sing the national anthem at minor league baseball games.” Mona prattled and Evie’s head fell back.

“Mom!” Another drawn out groan. Evie sunk down lower.

“Oh, Evangeline, let your mother brag about you.” Mona ignored her.

"Yeah, Evangeline." He chimed in, earning a harder glare.

“Now, Billy, you’ve been in Hawkins just over two months?” Mona continued. Blue eyes lifted from the plate before he gave a nod. “How are you liking it? I’m sure it’s such a huge change from California. You must miss the beach.”

“Getting used to the cold.” Billy speared a meatball and didn’t sound convincing.

“I’ll bet you’ve never seen snow before, your poor sinuses aren’t going to know what to do. Anyone in your family takes ill, just give us a ring.” Such a mom. “It took me a few years to get used to the cold here too. We moved when Evie was just a baby straight up from N’aw Lins.”

Billy bit his tongue.

“What type of music do you write?” Billy asked and there was a beat when Evie realized he was looking at her. Addressing her pointedly. Maybe to make conversation and suck up to her talkative mother. Evie’s back grew taut, lips opening.

“Evie’s gonna be a folk singer.” Mona had cut in. “Voice of an angel, she’ll make it big. She’s been in competitions, just one look from any talent scout and she’s sold.” Evie sank down again to go back to her food. Billy watched her roll a meatball around her plate like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

Mona Fenny struck Billy as a woman who always meant well. Frilly like a lace doily. So well, she steamrolled over you because she knew best. Evie barely got two syllables out before her mother was flicking her hair and boasting. A doll that constantly had the string in its voice box yanked.

Billy learned a great deal about her.

That Mona had been arrested twice in her life for marching and protesting. Civil and women’s rights. She joked that she hadn't been arrested for gay rights yet, but looked forward to the inevitable. She was a pageant queen too. Stopped when she found out she was pregnant and couldn’t compete after that. No bitterness there of course. She had a daughter to mold and complete the legacy now.

Mona insisted on taking the plates away. Grabbing her own, Billy’s, and a side dish.

Evie was still rolling that meatball around until Billy plucked up a fork, stabbed it, and swallowed in one bite. She perked with flushed cheeks. Glared again.

Billy wanted attention.

“Your mom is friendly.” Statement of the fucking millennium.

“Just wait til she busts out her old pageant scrapbooks. You'll never see home again.” Evie quickly flashed a smile and picked up her own plate to follow her mother off. Billy stood too, peered around. That cat had to be close. “Give it up.” Arms crossed when she leaned into the doorway working a melting ice cube around her mouth. Swallowed it whole instead of crunching. Water ran in the kitchen behind her.

“We agreed on an hour of television.” Billy matched her stance, saw her hip cock.

“Half hour.”

“Hour.” Billy went in to sit on the couch like he owned it. Legs spread. “Come on in, the water’s fine, Evangeline.” Evie plucked up the remote, sat as far away from him as she could. Turned the TV on to something campy just to make him suffer.

“Fucking Love Boat. Really? Susan watches this crap.”

“You said the full hour.” Evie flashed a smug grin. “I think The Golden Girls is on too.”

“Love Boat is fine.” Billy lifted his hand. Swiped the remote from her to set it on the other side of him. They both sunk in there. Eyes on the screen. Mona left them alone to bring the plate to their neighbor, stayed for conversation.

Billy fidgeted. Stretching to scoot closer so he could nudge his knee into Evie's. Her face remained at total peace. She pushed back at his leg which drew slow smiles upon them both.

“What kind of music do you really like, or does your mother always do all the talking?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Evie felt him peer back over and held herself. A beat.

“Yeah, your dreams. They don't matter." Came sarcasm. "A girl who wants her name in lights. Don't spend too much time feeling for the switch in darkness, Angel."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just asking. You really want to sit in silence to this cheesefest? Young actresses paired with old ass grandpas playing love sick.” Billy put his arm up over the couch. Missed Evie twitch. Got his hand smacked for tugging her curl like a giddy little boy.

“I don’t know,” Evie faced him with a shrug, “somewhere in the rock and pop area. Maybe with a touch of soul. Not the hair metal I’m sure you’re into."

How beautiful she looked when she hoped.

"And my name in lights won't ever be enough, I need people to chant it too.”

Lips curled at Evie.

“Better than folk music.” Billy decided. Pride welled because she smiled too. Genuinely. Evie fiddled with her necklace. Delicate little music note caught the technicolor glow. Brown eyes turned to see him, she tried to bite the smile down. Failed.

“So, what’s the deal with this party thing? A dance?”

“One of many in the city. Bunch of high schools will probably run drunk through the streets with everyone else. No one will get carded because no one cares on New Years. Dancing and whatever. Watch the ball drop, it’s just the feral thing to do that night.”

“And you could score with any girl, but you’re asking me. It won’t be like a date or anything.” Evie dropped the charm in her fingers to see Billy’s eyes linger.

“You mentioned that. I know how to get out and have a good time without fucking. I have all sorts of tricks.” He noted the word didn’t make her wince. “Not looking to break your seal.”

“You’re gross.” Again, no argument on the details of it.

“You’re too tightly wound.” He paused, whispering. “Maybe not, but you hide it.”

"Nothing to hide, I'm an open book."

"A never ending record," Billy pushed into her so their legs pressed flush, "not nervous around me though."

"Nope." Her lips popped, fingers curling into the hem of her dress when his arm snaked behind the couch. "Not nervous."

"Not running either." That realization seemed to hit them both.

"Why would I? I can handle you just fine." She hissed at that because it came out sexual. Billy licked his lips and snickered, shifting to face her head on.

"Oh, I like the sound of that." He'd murmured, inches from her face. Evie found herself wondering how he managed to weasel his way in this close. Wondered why she was drinking him back in. "Picture this. You and this perfume enjoying a couple free drinks and some fireworks in the city. No strings attached. Not a date. Just those exploding lights and that chilly wind cooling your cheeks down, because you'll be blushing and you won't know it."

"Uh huh. I guess I can see it." Evie sized him up and crossed her legs to lean back into him. "You and the roar of a Camaro commanding the city to its knees. Glam and hairspray working their magic."

"I love an audience, Angel." Billy shook his head and froze because her palm came to his knee. Bold move. "But, I don't mind the front seat to see you blush too."

"What about you?" She whispered with a hum. "What makes King Billy blush? Does all the noise you like to make hide it?" A spark flitted up her eyes. Made his chest heave. "Is that your secret?"

"Come to the party, I'll tell you all my secrets." Fingers grazed up her arm when soft digits gave a rhythmic tap against his thigh. Billy went for it. "Do this dance with me."

"You don't play as hard to get as you let on."

"Not when I want something bad. Better to just play harder." Lips parted to hit that word. Her brows lifted at such an admittance. "You're sizzling up a fuse, aren't you, Evie?" She shook her head with a lazy smile. Eyes finding his again after. Near sultry.

"You have to light a fuse first, Billy, for it to sizzle." Her hand crept along denim. Felt him go rigid and part his thighs just a little bit wider before she sat back. "And the fire's out anyway. I'll make good on the deal. If you win."

"I hope you have a dress picked." Billy scoffed, breathless and still intent on her while she looked ahead at the screen.

“Time is ticking. As if you taking me out will do me any good." Evie rolled her eyes and reclined back into his side. Quite comfortably like she wasn't thinking about it. "Give me cool points so Tommy and Carol leave me alone.”

“They’re assholes to everyone. It’s not you.” Billy replied dismissively. Curled his finger into her locks behind the sofa.

“You don’t notice who they target because you’re too busy chasing skirts and fighting others yourself. Also haven't seen the writing about me on the bathroom walls. School hierarchy rules. Open those pretty ocean eyes and see the world for what it is. You're untouched because of your front. Everyone wants to be Billy Hargrove or screw him.”

Evie looked at him there, blinking.

"What side of the line are you on?" He bit his lip. "I can guess."

She plucked his hand from her shoulder and placed it back into his lap. Patted it for good measure.

“So, you really think my eyes are pretty?” Billy laughed when a square pillow nailed him in the face. "You said it before too! When we were drunk and you still think it now that we're sober. Telling."

Tension shattered. Evie glittered right back at him, teeth flashing. Still chuckling, he tilted his head back to create the magical sound. Quieted.

“Fine. I’ll pay attention if it helps you sleep at night.”

Evie blew air out her lips, let a curl fly up and bounce down. They watched the screen again. Shared a space. Maybe it shouldn't have felt so intimate.

“Episode’s almost over. Thanks for playing.” She about sang. Triumphant.

“I guess you have me, Fenny.” Billy pushed up. “Mind if I take a leak?” He was already pacing off so she said nothing.

Just watched couples go hand in hand into the sunset.

There was a flush, the sink running, and then Billy’s huge smile crept back down the hallway. The boy was gone all of three minutes.

Bourbon in his arms. Purring. Perfectly happy. Evie’s jaw dropped open.

“Guess who crawled out of the shower to eyeball my junk? Not that I blame him.” Billy quipped, scratching the cat’s chin. Bourbon rubbed back into the touch. Rasped his scratchy meow for more.

“Traitor...” Evie muttered, coming to her feet. “Damn it.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re mine now, Evie. Seven o’clock. Wear something short if you like.” Billy’s lips were pressed up. Such an ass.

"I call foul." Her finger lifted.

"And I'll be calling on you. New Years Eve. Just an annoying dance. It'll be fun and free." His chin gestured at her. "Just say yes, Evie. Get out of this small town and see some lights for once. You want your name in them so bad, you gotta look at the damn things first. No day but today. Right?"

"Right," a lengthy sigh, "but, the fire's still out. Bourbon, why? First, mom and now you. He's just hypnotizing you both.” Evie took the cat from Billy, watched his face scrunch.

“Your cat is really named Bourbon?” He said flatter.

“I found him when we visited family in New Orleans. Bourbon street.” She let the feline nuzzle into her chest.

“God, Angel, I hope your lyrics are more creative than that.” Billy lightened, chest shaking as he peered away shaking his pretty head. “Well?”

She pouted and if that cat wasn't between them, Billy didn't know what he would have done. Another time or place. Another pretty dress. Another shared beat of bleeding together.

That itched him the rest of the night.

“I’ll go. Seven. I’ll dress nice. It’s not a date, so don’t try anything and get me home in one piece. I reserve the right to leave you if you act like too much of an ass.” Evie grumbled some about it, defeated.

But, she wondered about the lights and what it might be like to share them. Suppressed all urges that longed to hope.

“That much I can do, I might even keep my ass in check. Don’t flake, we have a deal. I’ll be your Mr. Darcy or whatever.” Billy made for the door, plucking up his jacket as she opened it.

“That’s an impossible standard, but keep dreaming.” Evie sighed out. Watched him turn to beam. Offered a pet to Bourbon. “Least you got his name right.”

“Quick learner, I get points. New Years Eve. Don’t make me chase you, Evie, because I will.” Billy stepped off the porch lighting a cigarette, idly waved behind him.

Game. Set. Match.

“I’m not gonna be nice about it.” She called.

“So, you’ll be your normal, cheery self with me. Great. Won't ask for anything else, we have a good thing going.” He turned to wink, curling a final smile. Evie stilled, petting her cat before sighing into the cold air. “See you then, Fenny.”

“Whatever you say, Hargrove.” She shut the door as he climbed his own porch. Looked at her cat.

“You did this to us, I hope you’re proud.”

Bourbon blinked. Another rumbling purr in response.

** ** **

“The world...” Evie plucked an idle cord. Sang soft to not disturb her mother down the hallway sleeping. Nestled into the wall on her bed next to the window. “May think I’m foolish. They can’t see you like I can...”

Darkness shrouded save for a small set of twinkling lights around her bed frame. Eyes kept averting to the clock.

“Oh, but anyone...who...”

Another pause to see the clock. Eyes flickered out along the street marked with lamps. Cracking her window to see out. Nothing. Evie settled. Changed the tune to something original and plucked another heart string.

“Those ocean eyes… Drowning me out. What I wouldn't give to...” Her palm caught the vibrating cord to snuff the sound. A groan as she set the guitar aside. “Shit.”

That was not happening.

A car went down the street at the exact moment the clock struck eleven. Evie grabbed her coat and locked her bedroom door. Checked her hair and makeup before hitching one leg over the window. Felt the naughty thrill pulse into her heart as she snuck out.

Billy peered to see beyond his own window near the foot of his bed. Unseen in the pitch black space. Thought about catching her. It was always a Saturday night. Evie Fenny crept out like clockwork. Wearing something nice under a jacket she held close. Sometimes with the guitar on her back. Lips painted red. Went down the street and returned as the sun rose. He’d observed it often. Sometimes it happened on school nights. Two to three times a week. Never asked because it didn’t seem important enough before. But, now…

Billy knew a teen girl didn’t paint her lips red at eleven o’clock on a Saturday for just anyone.

Evie hurried down the street toward the woods at the end. Got into a shiny car. Disappeared until sunrise.

~~~~~

Chat with me about Evie & Billy and the impending Skirt Safari Dance! Thanks!

TAGGED:@80sbxtch @nottherightseason @orxhidshavana @alagalaska @alongcamedolly

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #Billy Hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #writing #mine #SOMY #Billy x Angel #Angel Fenny

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dangerouscommiesubversive · 4 years

Note

Gai/Naomi/Juggler, B

Skipping ahead in my prompts kind of a lot because I just finished Orb last night and I’m in the mood to write for it. Contains spoilers for the end of Orb. B is for basorexia, the overwhelming desire to kiss

The thing that actually surprises Naomi, when Juggler shows up at the SSP offices several weeks after the defeat of Magata no Orochi, is not that he’s alive at all but that he’s wearing a different suit. “Gray looks good on you,” she says, cutting him off before he can offer some quip about being hard to kill. “I mean, I know it’s not as dramatic as the black, but gray and red is a good combination.”

Apparently thrown for a loop by this calm non-greeting, he stares at her for a moment before saying, “I was hoping we might have coffee.”

“At dawn?”

“I have reason to believe that the sunrise tomorrow might be well worth seeing, and while my preferred coffee spot has closed, I’ve found another one that’s very nice.”

She nods, says, “That sounds lovely, I’d like that,” and then bursts into tears and has to push her chair back to keep from crying into her keyboard.

Juggler freezes like a rabbit staring down an oncoming car and then comes around her desk and rests an awkward hand on her shoulder. “I don’t, ah. I’m not sure what to do in this situation.”

Naomi sniffles. “You should hug me now, weirdo.”

He’s an awkward hugger. It’s cute. She cries on his silk waistcoat anyway and lets him pat her nervously on the back, because maybe he deserves to be a little uncomfortable.

Once she’s done, though, she says, “Do you have anywhere to stay around here? If we’re having coffee at dawn then we’ll need to be able to find each other then.”

“I don’t sleep,” he says, reflexively, and then, “also, no.”

“You don’t--maybe you’d have spent less time trying to be a bad guy if you got some sleep once in a while. We have a space here, as long as you don’t mind it being where Gai crashed when he was here.”

An odd look crosses Juggler’s face. “No...no, that’s fine, I don’t mind. Thank you.”

She plans on going to the office and waking him up for coffee, and sets her alarm for it, but then doesn’t have to, because he shows up at her apartment just as she’s stepping out the door to go get him. “Wow, you really don’t sleep.”

He shrugs. “Not much.” Then, with a courtly bow, he offers her his arm. “Shall we?”

The sunrise is beautiful. The coffee, while not as sublime as Black Star’s, is very good. And Juggler’s much better at kissing than he is at hugging, especially when the sky is red and pink and orange and the clouds are thin and lacy and his mouth tastes like excellent coffee. Naomi has to take a moment to catch her breath when he pulls back. “Nobody’s ever kissed me like that before.”

Juggler raises an eyebrow. “Not even Gai?”

“Gai hasn’t kissed me at all yet, the slacker.” She resists the urge to pout, and then the incipient pout turns into a smile as she realizes, “So there you go, you got to be the first one.”

He does, as expected, look tremendously pleased with himself, and then says, “You’ll have to remind him of his duties the next time you see him. And give him this, from me.”

This kiss is very different from the first one, long and lingering and not sweet so much as it is full of intent. She can’t talk at all for a few minutes after, too red-faced and abruptly shy to attempt it. It feels like she’s walked in on something private, never mind that she was invited, offered it directly even.

“You’ll remember, of course?”

She’ll never call Juggler on how uncertain he sounds, but she’ll always remember it. “I promise.”

Juggler is gone two days later, to...wherever it is that he disappears off to, and it’s back to business as usual. Or rather, business as much better than usual; the SSP website’s really taken off, and she and Shin and Jetta spend a lot of time running around interviewing people and filming strange phenomena and writing articles. They’re making enough money that Naomi’s actually been able to quit a couple of her part-time jobs, which is a relief.

Gai gets back to Japan a couple of weeks after Juggler leaves. He doesn’t announce himself, of course, he’s just at the offices when they get back from a trip to a haunted bathhouse, sitting at Shin’s desk, drinking Ramune. Shin and Jetta fall all over themselves in their excitement to greet him, and then see how Naomi’s looking at him and very quickly find that they have other things to take care of.

“You’re late,” she says, “you missed Juggler by two weeks.”

He actually jumps slightly. “Juggler was here?”

“He was.” She crosses her arms over her chest, enjoying the hunted look on his face. “You’ve got some catching up to do, buddy. Also, he gave me something for you.”

“He...gave you something for me.”

“Yes. I’ll give it to you later. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

He doesn’t kiss her in a rooftop cafe at sunrise. Not that it isn’t just as romantic sitting on the couch in her tiny apartment, but it’s a very different mood otherwise. He’s hesitant about it, too, not as cool or as obviously prepared as Juggler was, both of them bursting into nervous laughter after a couple of shy first pecks, but then he reaches for her again and it’s very nice.

After about ten minutes of increasingly confident kisses traded back and forth there’s a pause, as both of them clearly try to decide whether this is going to go any further tonight, and Naomi remembers. “Right, yeah, I should give you that thing.”

Gai nods, frowning. “The...the thing Juggler gave you for me?”

“Yes, that one.”

She does her best to kiss him the way that Juggler kissed her, and from the shocked look on his face afterward she’s at least partially successful. “He asked you to give me that.”

“He was very specific about it, yes.” A beat, and then, with more mischief, “He was very pleased to know that he’d gotten to kiss me first.”

Gai rolls his eyes. “Of course he was.”

They don’t go any further that night, and that’s fine, because Naomi finds after only the briefest consideration that she’s way too nervous about the prospect of asking Gai if he wants to stay the night. Eventually he does get up to go--only back to the SSP offices to sleep there, but that’s still going. But at the door he stops and says, “If Juggler doesn’t come around before I have to leave again, please give him this for me?”

Another shocking, private kiss, filled with yearning, dizzying in how lonely it makes Naomi realize Gai‘s been, his hand on the side of her face gentle in a way that’s entirely different from how he’s gentle with her. She nods, dazed. “Sure. I’ll keep it safe for him.”

Juggler does not, of course, come back for another three weeks, by which point Gai’s long gone. He receives his message from Gai with stunned pleasure, and gives her another one to send back.

He and Gai only miss each other by three days this time, but it’s still what happens. Naomi gives Gai the kiss she’s been saving for him, and he gives her another one for Juggler.

It takes three more repeats of this before she realizes that they’re avoiding each other.

It’s not like either one of them has a cell phone, is the really frustrating thing.

So she puts a note on the website, which has been doing very well. She knows they both check it, too, and that they’ll both notice the one-line addition to the right side of the main page, under the embedded Twitter feed, that just says, I miss you. - N.

Two days later, she and Jetta get back from an interview to find Juggler staring at Gai’s open bottle of Ramune like it’s personally attacking him.

Gai, for his part, is squinting at Juggler’s chest. “Did you get a new suit?”

“Oh, good.” Naomi hangs up her jacket. “Shin, when did they both get here?”

Shin is hiding behind his latest invention, which is fair, the atmosphere is pretty tense. “Gai’s been here for exactly two hours and seventeen minutes, Cap. J-juggler just got here ten minutes ago.”

“You planned this,” Juggler says accusingly.

“Obviously I planned it. You fell for it.”

“Can I take that note down now, Cap?” Jetta, bless him, is just acting like it’s a normal day, heading to the computer with camera in hand to move his footage over. Granted, both he and Shin were in on the plan, but he was the one who thought it was funny, so it makes sense that he’d be calm about things.

“Yes, please. I’m going to be out for the rest of the afternoon.”

Shin starts to protest, looks at the frozen expressions on Gai and Juggler’s faces, and shuts up.

They follow her back to her apartment in a deeply awkward silence, and then proceed to take up more space in her minuscule living room than she would have ever thought possible. She stares at them for several minutes, tapping her foot, and is about to start getting impatient when Gai, finally, says, “Was there. Ah. Something you wanted to talk to us both about?”

“Yes,” she says, with vehemence. “I am an independent woman and I would like my own kisses, please, if you two want to kiss each other then you ought to stop avoiding each other and do it yourselves instead of making me your go-between.” At Gai’s protesting noise, “Look, I don’t entirely mind, they’re extremely nice kisses! But you’re, what, a few hundred years old?”

Juggler coughs. “Thousand.”

“Ok! You’re a few thousand years old! And I know, I know you’ve spent a bunch of that time not talking about your problems, but I’m fairly sure you can behave like adults! You don’t need a, a kissing proxy!”

Neither one of them answer. Gai scratches the back of his head, and then actually shuffles his feet like a child who’s been scolded. Juggler is staring fixedly at her one little bookcase with its painstakingly curated collection of books about aliens and supernatural phenomena. She’d think he was mad, except that he’s blushing, which is very charming of him.

She gives them a moment to feel awkward in silence and then says, “Look, I’m going to, to go to the bathroom and then when I’m out we’ll order dinner from somewhere and you two have to talk to each other.”

She spends longer in the bathroom than she’d really like, because as she washes her hands she finds that she’s shaking. Obviously this whole thing makes her nervous, obviously it’s all strange and new, obviously her first serious relationship would be with two thousand-year-old aliens, and also she’s planning on finally asking if one or both of them wants to stay the night. It’s a lot! She’s taking a lot of steps, very quickly, and they’re going to get easier if Juggler and Gai will just talk like normal people instead of...thousand-year-old aliens with a longstanding feud. Which is what they actually are. And that’s, you know, hot, but maybe it’s also intimidating right now.

Also she can’t decide what to order for dinner.

Finally she stops staring at herself in the mirror and straining to understand the occasional murmurs she can hear through the door, takes a deep breath, and leaves the bathroom. “So I’m not sure what to get, would you two like--oh.” And then, “Well, finally.”

Because they aren’t answering her, they’re probably not thinking about what to order for dinner right now, Juggler’s got his back to the wall next to the bookcase and his hand in Gai’s hair and there’s a kiss happening that’s definitely a culmination of all these kisses they’ve been sending each other through her, or at the very least a continuation of them. Most people wouldn’t be able to see it, the hundreds of years of pent-up longing and regret and desire, but then most people aren’t her. Most people haven’t been couriering it back and forth for months now.

It’s almost heartbreaking to see.

It’s also quite possibly the hottest thing Naomi’s ever seen in her--admittedly, comparatively short--life. She’s not sure she can remember how to breathe.

When she does finally start breathing again, she says, “I think when you’re both done I’ll order us a pizza.”

#yumeno naomi #kurenai gai #jugglus juggler #fanfiction #askrikkaiandhyotei #smooth by santana and rob thomas came up on shuffle as i was finishing this #which felt like a good omen for them #huge win for the ot3

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juleswolverton-hyde · 4 years

Text

The Sword and Shield (BC x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Idol AU, Quarantine fiction

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Warnings: Innuendos, nerdy Pokémon talk.

Summary: Every warrior needs a sword and shield to defend themselves against enemies. However, two nerds take up weapons in a vastly different fight.

Masterlist

Credits for the banner art go to Satzzz Art.

Life between the sheets does not always have to be characterized by Sensuality because there is more to be found among the pillows and blankets. It is amiable comfort, dozing off together to the sunrays streaming in through the light bedroom curtains or listening to music while sharing earbuds to kill the boredom of quarantine by means of occupying oneself with whatever is at hand. After all, it is yet unknown for how long the global population is forbidden to leave their homes safe for retrieving necessities at the supermarket or drugstore.

A blessing in disguise, however, is being able to spend the period of restriction with a bunch of lively lads which includes the lover of little more than a year. The moment it became known countries were hauling in their own residents a foolhardy decision was made to remain in South-Korea and leave the life in the place of origin behind for a while. The choice did not sit well with Chan at first, not too subtly asking to reconsider it though soon finding a secret delight in finally being able to wake up every day in the same bed.

No thousands of kilometres distance.

No time to be taken away by management and time zone differences.

The pandemic has at least given us this.

A taste of life as a real couple.

Just before IKEA closed as well, the lovable human kangaroo insisted on going there for the last shopping spree so personal taste could be added to the bedroom that would be shared. The well-meant idea was rejected at first, saying it was not needed and that the interior was fine as it was. However, once bleached locks have set their mind to something, it is barely possible to change the focus of determination and thus the private shared space has been decorated with a few candles alongside a new bookcase to house whichever books were already taken from home as well as a few pieces of art and a collection of postcards that have been pinned on a metal grate.

Our perfect little nest.

A haven of comfort for songs and nerdy thoughts.

‘Hey, babygirl.’ The mattress dips as the human koala joins the small kingdom in the sheets of sweatpants and loose tops that are somehow still deemed charming. Even the surface beneath the minimal layer of makeup is apparently preferred by the strong arm wrapping around the waist as platinum locks rest on the head and watch the screen held between hands. ‘What’re you playing?’

‘Pokémon Sword. It’s really good thus far and- Oh my god, it’s so cute!’ In an instance, the screen is lifted to show the six adorable balls clad in armor, a new creature which is called a Falinks. ‘Look at these little buddies!’

A wide smile breaks out on plush lips, wavy locks shaking in closed-eyed amusement before looking up again with the wonder of a new discovery. ‘So that’s why you’ve been kicking the air or screaming something is cute. I didn’t know you were a Pokémon fan?’

‘I have been since I was little, but it’s not something I tell others about.’ The true meaning of the grin no longer passes under the radar, igniting an ember of shame for harbouring a geeky side when it comes to the Japanese creatures. ‘Yes, I know, I am a mega nerd. Bite me.’

The jaw clenched in timidity relaxes when slender fingers tickle the sides as a big nose presses into the side of the neck to nuzzle it. The comment was not meant to provoke although the lowered voice suggests otherwise as it speaks against skin, teeth even cheekily nibbling. ‘Watch your words, Y/N, or I just might.’

However, the sensuous attitude fades as fast as it appeared as irises the colour of pure chocolate wander back to the device. ‘Can I see your Pokémon?’

Because the girl in the sheets is not the only trainer beneath the roof.

‘Sure.’ With the same nonchalance that denies the suggestiveness from a second ago, the index of the creatures which are currently being trained is opened. The current team consists of a Corviknight, Obstagoon, Thievul, Drapion, Boltund and Cinderace. ‘I’m currently training these though I mostly specialize in Dark Types.’

‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ To get more comfortable, Chan slouches further down the bed to rest more properly on a beloved narrow shoulder. Nevertheless, the all-knowing grin from before remains plastered onto plush lips. ‘I suppose you’re also interested in training Ghost and Psychic types as well?’

‘I’m an open book, aren’t I?’

‘Just a little bit.’ The teasing is made up for with a chaste peck on the nose followed by one on the forehead. Just the way it is preferred and done whenever apologizing for something or to simply gain a smile. Withal, now, judging by the twinkle in mischievous eyes, it is definitely to say sorry in advance for what is to come. ‘Can you guess what my type is?’

‘Me?’

The witty response evokes the bubbly boyish laughter that has been loved ever since the first time it was heard. ‘You’re not wrong.’

‘Okay, okay, let me think.’ The scanning for clues on the face results in nothing except a brighter devilish glimmer in a loving look. Henceforth, the answer will have to based on personality and all the little things that have been discovered since being in a relationship and now prematurely living together. ‘Electric? Although, no, wait. Fire. Something tells me you at least have a Growlith or had but it has transformed into Arcanine. Then again, judging by that splendid performance of the theme song in your VLive, I’d also wager you have a Pikachu. However, you’re very sporty so maybe you specialize in Fighting types?’

‘You’re on the right track. The answer is somewhere in there.’ Instead of one mocking eyebrow, two rise in a failed attempt to exaggerate coyness while looking cool. ‘Or is it?’

‘Very helpful, Chris.’ Sarcastically disregarding the useless remark and lopsided smirk, the former ramble is composed into a somewhat solid answer. Anywhere close to the truth is better than nothing. ‘You’re a Fire trainer who is also interested in Fighting types.’

‘Almost. I’m a Dragon trainer who always starts out as a Fire trainer. I am, however, also interested in Fighting types too. I do have an Arcanine and Pikachu is an exception to the rule because it’s Pikachu. Every trainer should have one.’

‘I have one too, but it doesn’t have a name since it’s a female and I only name my male Pokémon.’

Focus shifts back to the screen, Chan reading the names of the amiable creatures that form the company on the journey to becoming the best. It started as a fun idea and the names matched fairly well. ‘So I’ve noticed. Are you associating everyone in the industry with a Pokémon?’

But nothing ever runs smoothly.

‘I’m trying, but it’s bloody hard at times. I made Jackson a Pidove. Don’t laugh! I don’t know why I did it, but his name was the first to pop up when I caught it. Baekhyun is an Applin. Wait, he’s transformed already so now he’s a Flapple. Han is a Greedent because, let’s be honest, he’s a squirrel. Changbin, well, Bin is a Corviknight. I gave his full name to a Rufflet. Minho is a Sneasel, Felix a Thievul and I have yet to decide on the rest of the boys.’

‘Which one would be me?’ Judging by the suggestive tone of curious eyes and barely noticeable pout, there is the clear hope of a comparison with an awesome creature. The tightened grip on the hips betrays it too, blatantly so. Almost forcing the unknown comparison to one’s personal preference.

‘Without a doubt, you are Zacian, the giant warrior wolf with a sword in its mouth.’ A deep sigh cannot be helped at the thought of the game’s challenge which does absolutely not allow for failure. ‘The legendary Pokémon of the Galar region. Dammit, Channie! Why do you have to be so elusive and exclusive?’

‘Because I’m an amazing catch.’ The cheek is turned by slender fingers, compelling lips to join in a playful giggly kiss which is broken up by a smug remark. ‘And warriors are not so easily bound to a master. You told me even Beowulf reluctantly helped a king, only to settle his father’s debt.

‘Although,’ the train of thought is easily altered by hooking a digit under the silver necklace that was given as a birthday present, pulling the tease in yet holding off from melting into another kiss by backing away to continue the battle of wits and enjoy the small adorable whine of disagreement, ‘with the right trainer, I suppose I could make a deal.’

‘I plan on winning all gym badges and make myself worthy of the wolf.’

‘You will still have to win in that final fight. Until then, think you can take me on?’ Brows furrow in a suddenly hard-fought battle for concentrated control. Funnily contradicting oneself, the domestic koala shifts positions to hover over the coy soul who was able to tame the beast beneath the roof, faces inches apart and the Switch tucked in the small space between bodies.

Which becomes noticeably narrower when transforming Innocence into Sensuality by creating the image of what might be given after testing out the waters of victory and win in a Pokémon battle. ‘I have more than enough times in this bed.’

To make up for the victory and erase any negative unspoken feelings.

Though the soft growling suggests impatience, unwilling to be kept on a leash any longer. ‘Don’t change the subject. You’re fighting unfairly.’

‘Am I?’ The device is put aside on the bedside table, ankles hooking behind the waist to coax a hard shape into the warmth between the thighs as hands rest on broad shoulders. A much-appreciated action evidently, breath taken away by the friction between two concealed forms of wanting and nails digging into the skin beneath the comfy black printed fleece vest.

And the chest now making escape entirely impossible, hearts racing in harmony. ‘Yes. You’re distracting me.’

‘Says the person who’s distracting me from gaining those badges.’ Enough coherency lingers to remain cheeky. Bashful enough to lean in and utter a final double-sided statement of defiance. ‘I bet I can easily best you.’

But two can play that game, apparently.

‘I think you’re wrong, babygirl. Or do I need to remind you of how good I am?’

‘Grab your Switch and bring it on.’ The challenge is accepted with a scoff which clearly started having different expectations in regards to the order of events. Fortunately, a sweet quick peck cures most of the shallow grumpiness as Chris is dismissed from the sheets. ‘And give me all you’ve got.’

‘Oh, I will. I always do.’

As became apparent in the few battles between teams.

The wolfish actions that followed unspoken hard feelings unhappy with the outcomes of the fights.

And a broken headboard in the morning.

#Bangchan fanfiction #Bangchan #Bang Chan #Chan #Channie #Stray Kids #SKZ

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lifblogs · 4 years

Text

A few months ago I was asked to write this by a very dear friend. I haven’t heard from him and I’m very worried, but I hope the compassion in this fic will help, and it will help others find some comfort or kindness. Besides, who wouldn’t want gay college boy Sam with a cute boyfriend?

- 3532 words

tw for self-harm, suicide attempt, mentions of drug use, mentions of bullying, and mentions of homophobia

(I know the tags are a lot, but this story is about Sam visiting his boyfriend in the mental hospital and caring for him and giving him so much love.)

Sam barely heard the 90s alternative music he’d put on as he was sitting on his and his boyfriend Scott’s bed, doing his homework. He was working on Criminal Law. It was his favorite class. The professor was great with lectures, and the homework was engaging, and just challenging enough to keep Sam on his toes and really push him. He also paired that class with forensics, just so he could really dig into law from another perspective, and get a peek into the starting process of the criminal justice system. His advisor had even suggested that Sam should minor in forensics. He wasn’t too sure. His plate was pretty full, and taking even more classes would take time away from Scott. Scott needed him. A few days ago, he’d had to be taken to the hospital. Sam had been with him for the ambulance ride, and he’d stayed as long as he could. Eventually, they did have to be separated by nurses because Scott was being transferred to the mental health unit.

He’d hurt himself. Immediately after getting back to their apartment, Sam had hidden all of the sharp objects, and had done some digging (while feeling like he was violating his boyfriend’s privacy) just in case he had any illegal or controlled substances. He’d found one pill bottle, so he’d disposed of it, knowing damn well that his boyfriend wasn’t on Codeine.

Scott’s social worker had talked to Sam earlier in the day, explaining what he would need to do to keep his boyfriend safe. He’d taken the advice and was prepared to do anything to help him.

He’d nearly cried after the phone call, hurting so badly that it was like a hole was ripped through his chest. He just needed Scott to be okay. He wanted him to be okay. Scott was his best friend, the person he was closest to in the entire world. Closer than his dad, closer than Dean. He was his family now. Even in that moment, Sam wanted to see him. He wanted to hold him, and feel his lips against his, run his hands down his torso to feel at the muscular planes of his chest and his abdomen that he’d earned through years of dedication to contemporary dance. He yearned to hold onto his gorgeous hips, those bones making a perfect “v” that traveled down to his pelvis.

The yearning grew, and Sam couldn’t concentrate.

He just needed Scott.

The bed always felt cold and empty now. There was no one to spoon, no one to cuddle with and hold when they both needed it. Sam had his own mental health struggles, but he didn’t want to address them. He was functioning, so he was okay, surely. At least, that’s what he told himself.

Sam huffed, angry with himself, and abandoned his homework, putting his papers aside, and slamming his book closed.

I’m gonna visit him.

He just had to.

He knew when visiting hours were, and they were in about two hours.

But what would he do during those two hours? He couldn’t focus on his homework, and the world seemed empty, and gray, and he just needed Scott to be alright. He didn’t want him to be alone through this. So waiting those two hours would surely be agony.

Sam decided to hit the gym. He pushed himself hard, doing weights for forty-five minutes, and then switching to cardio, focusing on it for the same amount of time.

Afterwards, he took a shower. He had wanted to hurry with it, but he found himself just staring at the wall, mind blank at times. Other times, it was filled with a flurry of thoughts.

His chest hurt, and the pain even stabbed down into his stomach. He was tense, hands trembling.

In his head, Scott was laughing, his head tossed back, mouth wide open. His perfect, dark, near shoulder-length hair looked as fluffy as ever with its voluminous waves framing his face. His blue eyes shone with mirth, and that soft, rounded face was the cutest thing in existence. The memory changed, however. Changed to finding Scott on the floor in their bedroom, cutting himself. Immediately, Sam had taken away the kitchen knife he’d been using, put pressure on his bleeding arm, and held him to him. Scott had fought. He’d punched Sam in the gut repeatedly, he’d struggled. He’d cried, sobbing into him, shuddering. Sam was bruised from the ordeal, but he didn’t care. Scott had been in extreme emotional distress. His actions were already forgiven.

Once he’d stopped fighting him, and Sam was rocking him gently and rubbing his back, he’d taken his phone out of his pocket. He withdrew slightly so he wouldn’t be talking in Scott’s ear, and then he called 911. He stayed with Scott, tending to his wound, and keeping a close eye on him as he helped him pack for his hospital stay. Then he’d held him, running his hands through his hair, kissing the top of his head, wrapping his legs around him.

Scott had gone silent, and just held onto Sam’s shoulders, face buried against the crook of his neck.

Sam’s vision blurred, his eyes burning with unshed tears. His throat ached, and there was a pinch in his sinuses between his eyes. The memories hit bone-deep, and long moments passed before he was able to wash his face, wiping the tears away. The motivation to visit Scott surged through him, and he finished up his shower as quickly as possible. He dried off, dressed, and then grabbed his keys, phone, and wallet. Sam hesitated before leaving. Scott liked to read fantasy novels. Should Sam bring a book to him? He knew some hospitals wouldn’t allow books because they could potentially be used to smuggle in illegal substances, but this hospital was more lax. He grabbed The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan from their shared bookcase, and then he left.

The drive was long and agonizing. Realistically, it took about half an hour, but it felt like a year had passed, time dragging on as a thick, viscous thing.

Once he was at the hospital, Sam entered through the visitor’s entrance. He signed in at the front desk, received a name badge, and then he was searched and patted down. He’d even been made to walk through a metal detector.

Finally, he was declared as safe, and one of the security guards escorted him to the floor that Scott was staying in.

Once on the floor, the door was locked behind him, and a nurse went to announce to Scott that he had a visitor.

The wing itself was broken up into a few sections. On the left once he walked in the door was a long hallway, featuring patient rooms, a storage closet, a large room for group therapy, the showers, and the laundry room. The carpet was intricate enough to belong in a hotel. A movie-watching room with a VCR was off to his left just before the hallway. Glass windows let him see into it. A couple of people were watching Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.

Where he stood now was tile, a few of the squares checkered with turquoise and a bright yellow. Tables took up the space in this area — six of them. Patients sat there, coloring, doing puzzles, journaling. There was a low level of chatter. Behind them were cabinets, and hung up on them was art that patients had done themselves. A little alcove with a phone was squished in next to the cabinets. Farther to the left was a kitchen, and he saw a bulky man in there getting a snack, heartily eating his vanilla yogurt. Next to the dining area was a makeshift living room. It was carpeted with a blank gray rug, and a few books could be found there. A TV was set up in the far corner, the plush couches and chair arranged so it could be seen. A closed off nurse’s station was across from there. Further down, there was another hall featuring rooms, and a few patients were walking that hall. Up and down, up and down.

Scott wasn’t in any of the public areas, it seemed. A nurse had gone down the hallway to the left, and soon she re-emerged, Scott shuffling behind her.

His boyfriend was wearing a Stanford hoodie, the drawstrings taken out. His hood was up, yet his hair still peeked out, somehow still lustrous despite the hospital shampoo. He was in jeans, and he was without shoes, socks covering his feet. A small smile alit his face at seeing Sam.

The nurse let them into the room for group therapy so they could have some privacy. However, the door was left open. That meant Sam and Scott couldn’t touch. They knew the rules.

Sam clenched his jaw at that reminder, but he understood it. Physical contact could be triggering for some people. Still, when no one was looking and they were completely alone, Sam pulled Scott into a bone-crushing hug. Scott returned it, his chin resting against Sam’s shoulder.

Sam then gave him a quick kiss, and they pulled back, taking seats.

Scott sat with his head bowed, hands clasped and resting in between his thighs. His shoulders were slumped. Everything in him spoke of some sort of defeat. But at least he had come out of his room. The other times Sam had visited, he’d outright refused to see him.

“How’s your arm?” Sam asked after they greeted each other.

Scott nodded, not looking at him. Sam’s stomach clenched at that. “Getting better. How are you doing?”

So Sam talked to him about what was going on in college, and he also let him know he’d cleaned the entire apartment. Scott did smile at that (he abhorred chores).

“Are you getting treated well in here?” Sam eventually asked.

Scott lifted up his head, hair swishing, and he looked out into the hall. Then, he leaned into Sam, whispering, “One nurse is a total bitch, but it’s fine.” Sam would be lying if he said he didn’t want to keep leaning towards him, but he pulled back slightly. Still, he maneuvered his leg so that their thighs were just barely touching. It sent a wanting tingle through Sam, and his heart pounded in a mad fury in his chest.

Hold him. Kiss him. Take care of him, Sam’s mind seemed to say on a loop; a desperate chant.

“The psychiatrist is pretty good,” Scott said. “Though he gave me a hundred pages of this damn book to read. It’s helpful, but homework? I thought I came here to escape that.” They laughed at the joke. “But yeah… most of the nurses are great, though I can’t sleep in. They also do bloodwork on the first day. It’s a pain in the ass. Not as bad as getting searched.”

Sam grimaced. “Yeah, I had to go through that too.”

“They were quick about it,” Scott assured him.

Then, his boyfriend took in a deep breath. He bounced his left leg, tapping his foot, and rubbing his hands together.

“Hey, whatever it is,” Sam began, “you can tell me.”

“That’s the thing,” Scott said. “I don’t know if I can.”

Sam didn’t want to pry, but Scott was talking to him. This was progress, and he was going to try and gently nudge him further along. “How come?”

Scott shook his head. “I just don’t want you to judge me,” he mumbled, all morose.

On instinct, forgetting the rules, Sam took Scott’s face into his hands and turned him to face him. “Hey, I’d never judge you. I want you to know that. It’s okay. I’m here for you. You don’t have to hide.”

Scott lowered his eyes for a bit, but then they flicked back up. “I just... I still have those thoughts, those urges. I want to hurt myself.” He swallowed roughly before continuing, “Kill myself.”

“That’s what you’re here for,” Sam told him. “It’s okay. You’re getting help, and I’m not gonna leave you to it alone.”

Scott nodded, tears in his eyes, and then Sam lowered his hands, knowing he’d been touching him for too long to remain inconspicuous.

“The meds are starting to help, I think,” Scott said. “Insomnia’s a little better. Anxiety’s calmed by, like, five percent. But I… I got a new diagnosis.”

“You want to tell me about it?” Sam questioned. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“No, no. I, uh… I want to tell you. I have to tell you. So, uh… you know how my childhood was crap, right? And in school I got bullied for—for being gay. At home it wasn’t really any better.” Sam just nodded. “Well, I guess that does some damage. I’ve been… I’ve been diagnosed with—with C-PTSD.”

Sam frowned, not knowing what the “c” stood for.

Scott, seeming to read his mind as always, so attuned to him, went on, “The ‘c’ stands for ‘complex.’ I guess that’s what happens from multiple exposures to…” He swallowed roughly, then finished, “...to trauma.” Scott shook his head, and Sam saw a tear roll down his cheek and drip off his chin. He made sure no one was in the hall, and then swiped it away with his thumb. “Thanks,” Scott mumbled.

He took in a few forced deep breaths, stomach expanding with them.

“I’m learning coping skills though,” his boyfriend said. “Self-soothing techniques, uh… grounding, meditation. That kind of stuff.”

“Any of them helping?”

“Yeah, a bit. The flashbacks still come on though, and the nightmares… Tonight they’re going to try a new nightmare medication for me. I guess it’s for blood pressure, but it can also help with—with this,” he finished, tapping a finger to his head.

Sam’s palms seemed to ache, burn. He looked down at Scott’s hands, with his long fingers, and his wide palms. Hands that he knew, hands that he wanted to hold, to offer some comfort. Scott tapped his fingers together, then looked at Sam again. “I’m really glad to see you,” he admitted. “I’m sorry about the other times—”

“Hey, you don’t have to be sorry,” Sam told him. “You’re going through a lot. Seriously, babe. It’s okay.”

“But you saw what I did. I must’ve hurt you and scared you, and then I didn’t talk to you, didn’t want to see you. I hurt you, Sam. Me. I did that.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah? You sure about that? ‘Cause it was my hands doing it, and my brain telling me to.”

“You’re not your thoughts,” Sam said.

Scott looked away, making a sound of indignation. “Yeah, then what am I?”

“You’re someone who’s having a hard time,” Sam told him. “You’re someone who is loved, someone who is missed. Someone that I want to take care of. Someone worth taking care of. I know it feels like it’s all you, but you’re just having a rough go of things. Say I had the flu — would you blame me for coughing?”

“No. Guess not.”

“It’s the same thing, just with your brain It’s in your head, yeah, but that’s where you are, where your brain is. It’s an organ, and—and I guess it’s just… having a hard time.”

“You can say it,” Scott said.

“Say what?”

“Sick. I’m sick.”

“Is there something bad about that? You know, other than the symptoms?”

“What if people don’t like me anymore? Or what if they see it, or find out? Face it, Sam, I’m not assertive, and I certainly don’t give off any confidence when I’m not on the dance floor. I zone out… People are gonna notice, and they’re not gonna be okay with it.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Sam just didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to take him and somehow brush his shame away, save him from the thoughts in his mind, and the feelings created deep in him.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

Sam suddenly remembered the book he’d stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie, and then he passed it to Scott.

“Here, I brought you this.”

Scott took it from him, studying it, reading the title and the author, before flipping through the pages. He lifted it to his nose, and he inhaled the scent. After, he let out a contented sigh, a smile on his face. Still, tears were in his eyes.

“Thanks, Sam. It’s boring as hell in here. All there is to do is watch the same movies over and over again and eat.”

“Is the food any good?”

“Actually, yeah. And they give you a menu and you can order off of it. Right now I’m just on a pizza binge. The crust is so good.” His voice had a throaty quality to it with the last few words, showing how much he enjoyed the food. Sam laughed, and Scott joined in.

“I brought an okay book, right?”

“Sam, I love this book. Seriously, why haven’t you read it yet? Robert Jordan is a world-building genius. Yeah, there are a ton of characters, but they’re so intricate and real. The magic is insane. Sam, seriously, you’d love it. I know you like The Lord of the Rings. You’re a fantasy nerd. Just admit it.”

At the word “nerd,” Sam thought of Dean.

“Nah. Not a nerd,” he told him.

“Alright, lawyer boy,” Scott teased.

Sam leaned into him, whacking him on the chest playfully.

Scott just held his hand, keeping it there.

“We’re so gonna get in trouble,” his boyfriend said.

“At least there aren’t any other patients around.”

Scott shrugged. “Good point.”

“Are the patients okay?”

“Yeah. I made a friend. Aaron. Everyone just calls him Buddha Bear. I don’t know why, and at this point I’m too afraid to ask.” Sam grinned. “Last night he put the plastic utensils they give us in his beard. He said he just wanted to see if he could get away with it. His philosophy is that since we’re in here, we can do whatever crazy shit we want.”

“You do anything funny like that?”

“I let this girl Krislyn braid my hair.”

Sam laughed. “Now that I gotta see.”

“You can braid my hair when I’m back home.”

“Dude, you think I know how to do that?”

Scott punched Sam on the shoulder, the touch light, but the pressure affirming, comforting. “Learn, lawyer boy.”

They fell into each other, laughing, and Sam surely broke multiple rules as he caressed Scott’s face and brought his lips to his for a kiss. Scott returned it eagerly, his hands reaching up to tangle in Sam’s hair.

Before the want could take over, before he could become truly overwhelmed by Scott’s touch, and smell, and presence, Sam broke off from the kiss. He leaned his forehead against him.

“I miss you,” Scott admitted.

“Miss you, too.”

“It’s so hard.”

Sam pat his chest. “Just hang in there. Hang on a little longer, okay? Change is inevitable, right? So you won’t feel like this forever.”

“How do you always know what to say?”

“My public speaking classes,” Sam joked.

That earned him another laugh from his boyfriend.

“I’m glad to be with you, Sam… here at the end of all things.”

Sam rolled his eyes, affection blooming in his chest.

“Did you seriously just quote The Lord of the Rings to me?”

Scott lowered his voice, making it scratchy and throaty, and then croaked out, “My precious!”

That sent them into hysterical laughter, and for the moment, Sam forgot where he was, forgot what had happened. There was just this moment with Scott, and it was a good moment.

“Got any other nerdy quotes for me?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you say ‘I love you’?”

Sam humored him, saying, “I love you.”

Scott shot him a sly grin. “I know.”

The two hours that Sam was allowed to visit seemed to last forever, even as they passed too quickly. It was as if he’d simply blinked, and then he was getting told he had to leave. It was hard to go, hard to go back to their apartment with that empty bed, the silence that wasn’t punctuated by Scott’s laughs. The table that he didn’t sit across from Sam at. He was going back to the closet that remained closed, unneeded in Scott’s absence. He was going back to a place where Scott wasn’t there.

Sam assured him one more time, “I love you.” Scott returned it, teary eyed.

“I’ll be home soon,” Scott told him. “I’m gonna get better. For you.”

“Get better for yourself too, okay? That’s what matters.”

Again, Scott had lowered his head, eyes all teared up.

“Bye, Sam.”

“Bye.”

Once Sam left, he sat in his car for a few minutes, just taking deep breaths, trying to process. “He’ll be okay,” he told himself. “Yeah, he’s gonna be okay.” He started up the car and drove away from the hospital, going back to that apartment that was missing the most important piece. But, Scott would be there soon. Sam smiled at that thought.

#spn #sam winchester #fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #college!sam #supernatural #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #tw: depression #tw: self-harm #tw: drug use #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: homophobia mention

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hardyimagines · 5 years

Text

Foreign

Drabble!

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“Not how you do it, pet.” Alfie grumbled out beneath his breath. His sudden words made your ears twitch before you craned your neck around to eye him. He was sat at the sturdy, wooden desk in the center of the room. You were stood in front of the tall bookcase, dusting the spine of his various books, stacked high above your head. Unbeknownst to you, your boss was watching your every move out of his peripheral. The glasses on his face had slid down the bridge of his nose and were now, no doubt, agitating him. He kept wrinkling his nose and scrunching his brows together, as if the constant movements would magically nudge the glasses back up and into their rightful place.

Without saying anything, you merely cocked a brow and resumed your task. The rag in your hand was coated in dust, filthy pieces, wads that were very visible as they fell from the vanity and floated to the floor to join the sticky contents that was spilled alcohol. There was a lengthy moment of silence before you spoke up. Alfie assumed you were pondering a comeback.

“Mr. Solomons,” a lengthy, drawn out silence followed, one that lured him in so that you were sure you had his attention. “If you’re so picky about the way your books are cleaned, why don’t you clean them yourself.” The twitch of your brows and curl of your lips made him feel as if you were mocking him. Silently teasing him in a ‘you don’t know what you’re doing either sort of way.’ He almost smirked visibly at the thought. He’d taken care of the novels for years and he didn’t plan on letting them waste away now.

The leather seat he was perched on moaned out as his weight was lifted up and off of the thing. He nudged it lightly to the side, palm falling to his trousers so he could lazily pick at the fabric and pull it off of his skin. The room was hot so the fabric he wore was clinging to him like a wet rag. Ruffling his brown locks, sweaty and a bit messy from the hat he’d worn all day, he stepped up behind you. His arm was longer than yours. His legs were the same. He stood taller than you, capable of reaching the high places that were too far for you. You’d had intentions to use a step-stool, but clearly your height wasn’t what he was complaining about.

The space was small. The book case was wedged in between two walls, a perfect fit for the costly piece. Alfie gripped your wrist, fingers still clamped around the rag you’d been using to flick at the dust. His chest, broad and tight, pressed against your back in the slightest, warm breaths tickling the side of your neck as he spoke.

“Right, pet, i, yeah, have got more important fucking matters to tend to, haven’t I? Yeah, I do, right, so you, yeah, you’re gonna have to learn how to do this fucking properly, ain’t ya?” His words seemed to blend together when he spoke. Your ears constantly twitched and burned as you strained to catch every word, because of his thick cockney accent. His fingertips were rough to the touch as they grazed your warm, soft flesh. He adjusted the way that you held the rag. Instead of balling it up in your fist, he angled it to where the cloth circled your fingers instead of vice verse. “Up and down, yeah, along the spines.” His voice seemed so much huskier when he spoke quietly. His hips accidentally brushed against your own, delicate touches as he showed you how it was done. “Not side to side, pet, right, that just smears the mites.” Focusing on his words was impossible to do. His voice, low in your ear, mixed with the tingles and goosebumps on your skin caused from his hot breaths, and his hand enclosed around you wrist, guiding your arm as his front brushed against your back made it entirely too difficult to concentrate.

It was thrilling to say the least. Alfie Solomons was a very attractive man. Gentleman was pushing it. Kind, protective, possessive, defensive. He’d hold a door open for you, but he’s not the type of man a mother would swoon over. You had it bad for Alfie anyway. No approval was needed. No conversations or inquiries with family members for their opinion because he was older and it was just a clear assumption that nothing would progress between the two of you.

Eye-sex, brief little touches, a skim of the fingers, a brush of your chest against his back when you hunched over him to point at the papers on his desk — that was all fine. All innocent. Too impossible to tell if it was just simple or something more. It just left unanswered questions.

But Alfie, chest grazing your back and hips rubbing against yours each time he leaned in to get a better, firmer wipe on the books, made your eyes flutter and your heart thump noisily. You were sure he could hear it. It was involuntary as you swallowed thickly. Your lengthy lashed fluttered closed and the room tripled in temperature within seconds. Your hips pushed backwards as you simultaneously took over cleaning the books. “Like that?” Your voice held entirely too much seduction.

Alfie, with no expectations of what you’d just done, let his hand fall away from your wrist, but only so he could cradle your hip. Neither of you expected the slight — but very noticeable movement, but neither of you said anything about it either. Alfie drew his bottom lip in and lazily suckled on the pink flesh before he slowly moved his gaze back to the books. He could see your hand shaking. The twitch of your fingers. He bit his cheek before pushing his hips, just as firmly as you had, back into your own. Your hipbones pressed against the vanity, sharp against your tender flesh, but too good to be true and too good to stop. Your free hand fell to the desk, steadying yourself, as the other tried lazily to skim the covers. It was so pointless. Every time he moved. Every time he breathed. You crumbled more and more. “Just like that, pet.” Before you knew it, his palm lifted to the center of your back and without warning, he pushed you down so that you were laid on it, flat, belly pressed against the wood and head turned to the side so your warm cheek could cool, pressed just as firmly against the surface.

He watched you daily as you did your duties. Scrutinizing, silently correcting, pleading with you to notice what you were doing was wrong. And yet, you never did. He inhaled deeply, lengthily, eyes squinted and features hardened as he stared down at your arched back. Another part of him hardened as well, especially as you innocently wiggled in front of him, ass rubbing his crotch with every little twitch of your hips. There was no question about what was to come. He wouldn’t have shoved you, face-first, down on the table unless he had intentions of having his way with you.

And as you felt those fingers, those hot fingers clad in cold jewelry, slip inside the back of your dress, you knew he was about to do just that. The dress you wore was rolled up swiftly, far too easy. He fisted his hand in the material and held it around your waist, squeezing it roughly in order to prevent himself from doing it to you and leaving a bruise. All this time.

Watching. Waiting. Waiting. Watching. Wandering. Examining. He’d paid such close attention to you and you were oblivious. The sound of his belt, leather scraping cloth, filled the room before the thing thudded to the floor. You sealed your eyes shut and adjusted your body on the table before moaning out your response. “Mr. Solomons.” The professional means to address him made him harden further. He loved the control. “Mr. Solomons.. I need this.”

Alfie’s free hand ran along your leg before up to your hip. He tugged your naked hips backwards and rubbed his clothed crotch against your bare one, eyes fluttering. The sensation was so nice. You moaned out pleadingly, so desperate for him. “I need this too, yeah, I fucking do..” His eyes fluttered. “You’d best brace yourself, yeah, it’s been a while for me, innit?” Your arms opened before extending across the table so you could grip the back of the bookcase. Clutching on to it, you let your eyes slide shut.

“Don’t hold back.” Your plea was clear. “I can take it, Alfie.”

And take it you did. Like a champ. Hips were no doubt bruised, lower back surely sore. Your mouth was swollen from his sloppy, but the blame was on the position, eager kisses and your eyes hadn’t stopped watering since your orgasm — Alfie Solomons knew exactly what he was doing.

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PSA: IM HALF ASLEEPX, WROTE THIS IN 10-15 MINUTES AND JUST HAD THE IDEA SO I JOTTED IT DOWN ): HOPE YOU ENJOY IT❤️

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the-observant-frisbeetarian · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2 - Coffeehousing

Catch Perfect by George deValier

CHAPTER TWO

COFFEEHOUSING: The act of distracting an opponent by chattering and banter.

The next day Berwald arrived at his new home with all his belongings packed into a few boxes. Looking at everything he owned packed up in his car he suddenly realised how little he actually had to show for himself after all these years. Some clothes, some books… and everything else lost in only a few unfortunate games on the circuit. As he opened his side door, several of the boxes fell onto the driveway. He sighed and knelt to pick them up.

"Need a hand?"

Berwald turned to find Norway staring unsmiling down at him. It was apparently the only facial expression he had.

"Yeah, sure."

"What did you do?"

Berwald paused for a second, thrown. "'suse me?"

Norway's face didn't change. "Drugs? Theft? Assault?"

The words hit a little too close to home, and Berwald answered too quickly. "Nothin.'"

Norway just stared for a moment, then picked up a box. "Huh."

It took only one trip for Berwald and Norway to carry everything through the large house and upstairs into Berwald's tiny space at the end of the hall. Berwald placed down the load and nodded. "Th'nks."

Norway dropped the boxes in a heap with a loud bang. "Whatever. Ice and Fin are at school. Den's asleep. I'm going out."

Berwald nodded again as Norway walked out the door, leaving him alone in the… well, bedroom wasn't quite the right word for it. It turned out that the 'alcove' Denmark had referred to was not much more than a curtained-off corner. It wasn't that bad, really. There was a bed, a desk and a wardrobe, and just enough space to move around comfortably. However to get to it he had to enter through Tino's bedroom, which… well.

It wasn't that Tino's room was 'messy'… in fact, compared to the rest of the house, it was positively spotless. It was just a little… random. The black, white and orange theme was cool, and the small selection of stuffed dogs in the bookcase was kind of cute. The complete matching set of 'Rocky' bobbleheads were a little stranger. The huge orange penguin was beyond description.

Berwald had not seen Tino since the afternoon before, but he hadn't been able to think of anything else since. Those big violet eyes and blond hair and moose-emblazoned sweater haunted his memory. He was quite aware of how ridiculous it all was… Berwald knew absolutely nothing about Tino, but was moving into this bizarre place entirely because of him. He'd never believed in anything as absurd as love at first sight. There was probably another way to explain this sudden, overwhelming infatuation… mental instability from his financial loss? Contact insanity from Denmark? Whatever the reason, Berwald didn't actually care. Gay friendly Scandinavian, indeed.

A few hours later, noticing that the light through his one small window was fading slowly, Berwald took out his pocket watch. It was the one item he owned now that had any value whatsoever, and also the one item that he could never part with. The old fashioned hands read four p.m. Berwald had not eaten since breakfast, too busy trying to get out of his old apartment before the deadline. So he kicked the last empty box into the corner and decided to brave going downstairs to forage for food.

Greenland and Faeroe had not moved from their spots on the couch. The television blasted a steady stream of awful afternoon game shows into the large, silent room. Berwald made his way to the kitchen, hoping fervently not to run into Denmark; he wanted to put that particular situation off as long as possible.

Entering the kitchen, the first thing Berwald noticed was that Denmark was not there. The next thing he noticed was that Tino was. Berwald's stomach seemed to dissolve into fluttering air. Looking up from stirring coffee on the centre bench, Tino gave a rather adorable squeak and backed up into the sink behind him. Berwald was the first to look away. "Uh… sorry for takin' yer bedroom."

"It's fine." Tino's fingers were turning white as he gripped the coffee mug. "I mean, that room is huge anyway."

Berwald nodded. All right. Good start. Tino seemed scared of him, but Berwald was used to that, and the Finn hadn't run screaming at least. "What are ye studyin'?" he asked, trying to be social. Being social took an effort.

Tino looked confused. He was wearing a blue polka-dot cardigan with an orange collar. "Studying?"

"At college."

"Oh, um…" Tino turned bright red and looked at his feet. His shoes matched today. "I'm still at high school."

"Oh." Berwald took a slightly shamed step backwards.

"I'm in my last year of high school, I mean, I've nearly finished. I'll be at college next year, maybe, if I'm accepted, though I've no idea what I'll study, science maybe? Anyway I've been friends with Ice for ages, so when I needed somewhere to stay he suggested I live here. Iceland is Norway's brother, you probably haven't met him yet. You must be confused about the names. You see, Denmark's kind of… a little… well, he's completely insane. It's really not that bad, but you must be a little overwhelmed, Denmark is a bit much, isn't he?" Tino spoke in a rush, staring at his matching shoes and gripping his coffee mug so tightly his hands shook. Berwald was completely captivated.

"I'm sorry. Am I talking too much? I talk too much when I get nervous. Not, I mean, that you make me nervous, except that you are kind of scary, and…" Tino trailed off, his face frozen in dismay. They stood in silence for a few moments before Tino finally looked up at Berwald and, seemingly at a loss for words, whispered, "Would you like a coffee?"

Berwald nodded and Tino slowly stepped forward, placed the mug on the bench, and carefully pushed it across the counter. Berwald couldn't stop his lips twitching in a tiny smile. "Th'nks."

"You're welcome," said Tino, still in a whisper. He immediately busied himself making another cup. Berwald tried not to stare. He was desperate to know, but Berwald did not ask why Tino would need a place to live while still at high school; that sounded like a difficult issue.

"What was I talking about?" Tino asked, adding powdered coffee granules to his mug. "The names just catch on, I guess. It's okay here. Kind of fun. Denmark was more than happy to add a Finn to his little Scandinavia. My family moved here from Finland when I was ten."

"Came fr'm Sweden when I was fifteen."

Tino met Berwald's gaze for a brief moment and smiled. Berwald's fluttering stomach turned a circle.

"Denmark is obviously Danish." Tino reached for the jug and poured. "Norway and Iceland's mother is Icelandic and their dad's Norwegian."

"And th'guys on th'couch?" Berwald asked, desperate to keep this conversation going, even as he realised that this was the most he had spoken in about a year.

Tino's forehead furrowed. "I have no idea, actually. I think they come with the house."

"Ah."

"So, um, do you go to college with Denmark and Norway?" Tino stirred copious spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee.

Berwald paused and looked down at his own drink. The question he hated answering. "No," he said hesitantly. "Work there. Gard'ner."

Tino's face lit up. "A gardener? You probably know lots about flowers. And you must, uh, dig a lot, too… With big, heavy shovels, and carry huge bales of hay, and wear those, um, denim overalls with the…" Tino's violet eyes drifted down Berwald's body before flying back up wildly. "I mean, do you like it?"

"Um." Berwald was used to a bad reaction when telling people his job. Tino just seemed… very interested. Berwald started to answer, but the back door swung open, so he drank his coffee instead. It was too sweet, and too hot, and the best coffee he had ever tasted.

"Afternoon Ice." Tino waved cheerfully. "This is our new housemate, Berwald."

Ice eyed Berwald over from head to toe and whistled lowly. "So you're Sweden. You really are a big boy, aren't you?"

Oh. Iceland. The guy on the phone. Berwald felt himself blush.

Iceland looked around the same age as Tino, with white hair, tight white pants, and a rather impressive pair of knee-high white boots. He crossed the room, opened the fridge, and slowly bent over to reach the bottom shelf. Berwald nearly dropped his mug. After a rather excessive amount of wriggling and shaking, Iceland finally straightened up and turned around with a can of coke in his hand. "Wow, this thing was really jammed in there." He winked at Berwald, then nodded at Tino. "Fin, hurry up if you want me to help with your math homework. I'm indisposed after six p.m."

"Sure." Tino hadn't seemed to have noticed Ice's display. Maybe he was just used to it. "What is the time?"

Berwald quickly pulled out his pocket watch, grateful for the distraction. "Almost four-th'rty."

Tino took a hesitant step closer to inspect the antique. "That's such a beautiful watch." He touched it briefly, and Berwald's fluttering, circling stomach threatened to burst. Then Tino smiled, and Berwald knew only that he was lost. "I'll see you later, then."

Berwald nodded, his mouth dry. "Later."

Ice gave Berwald a tiny wave and as he sashayed from the room. "Bye, big boy."

Once the two boys had left the room, Berwald let out a heavy breath and leant forward against the bench. He knew now that he was completely infatuated. That shy smile, the peculiar politeness, the way Tino spoke in a nervous rush without seeming to think about what he was saying. All of it spun in his head like a whirlwind of violet eyes and sugary coffee and orange penguins.

Berwald stayed in the relative safety of the kitchen for the next hour or so, grabbing something to eat and cleaning the massive pile of dishes in the sink. Only after the room was sparkling clean did he dare venture back into the living room. He quickly wished he hadn't.

"Sweden!" Denmark charged towards him, manic grin in place. "I'm glad we've caught you! We just have a couple of rules we have to go over, very important, won't take much of your time." Denmark grasped Berwald by the arm, led him to a couch, and practically threw him down on it. Berwald glared at him angrily. Usually that scared people, but Denmark just stood over him with folded arms.

"Denmark, honestly, do you have to do this every time?" Iceland entered the room from the back study and leant over an armchair. Tino hovered behind him, glancing apologetically at Berwald and mouthing something that looked like 'sorry'.

"Of course he does. It's one of the very few circumstances wherein he is able to cling to his vain delusions of power," muttered Norway. Berwald hadn't even noticed him sitting reading at the table behind them. "Pathetic."

"Ohhh, someone's upset they haven't had enough attention today!" said Denmark in a sing song voice. "Don't worry sugar, I'll give you an extra long foot massage before bed!"

Norway didn't look up from his copy of Sartre's 'Being and Nothingness.' "Touch my feet and I will kick you in the teeth with them."

"Poor cranky baby! I'm keeping you up too late at night, aren't I?"

"One day, Denmark. One day. You won't even see it coming."

"Silly Norge. Now." Denmark clapped his hands together. "House rules!"

Tino raised a hand hesitantly. "Um, Denmark, you scared off the last three housemates with this…"

"HOUSE RULES!" Denmark shouted over him. "Number one. Rent is due every Monday and goes in the little jar next to the fridge."

Berwald nodded. All right. Seemed sensible.

"Number two. No bringing home one nighters after two a.m."

Iceland winked at him and Berwald averted his eyes.

"Number three. If someone calls and asks what you are wearing, do not give them a detailed description of your current ensemble including fabric type and designer name and then get into an in depth discussion of current fashion trends. Yes, Fin, I am looking at you." Tino went red and ducked his head behind Iceland. "Just pass the phone to Ice."

Berwald felt himself blush again.

"Number four." Denmark was really getting into this. He looked like a politician on a podium. "Do not wander onto number 47's lawn. Switzerland tends to shoot first and ask questions later. Number five. No fraternising with the Russians next door." Denmark turned his head and muttered to himself, "Goddamn Russians always after Scandinavia."

"Um…" began Berwald.

"Number six! You may fraternise with the OTHER Guys Next Door, but don't feed the American or he'll never stop coming around, and don't let the British bloke near my beer fridge because the bastard still owes me a six-pack. Number seven. Don't ask about the axe in the shed. Number eight. Forget I mentioned rule number seven. Number nine. The eggs in the fridge with the smiley faces are mine. Do not eat them. Buy your own. Are you listening to this, Norge baby?"

Norway flipped Denmark the finger without looking up.

"Rule number ten: touch Iceland and I'll kill you. Rule number eleven: touch Finland and I'll kill you. Rule number twelve: touch Norway and he'll kill you. I'm serious about that one. Rule number thirteen: touch Greenland and Faeroe if you really must, I'm not gonna ask questions, it's not my place to judge."

"Hey!" came the voice of Greenland - or was it Faeroe - from the other couch.

"Rule number fourteen: if someone comes to the door and asks questions, the correct answer is, 'He is out of the country.' Rule number fifteen: under absolutely NO circumstances are you to play ABBA in this house. I understand that being Swedish this will be particularly difficult for you, but this is a dire proclamation, an ageless edict, and holy shit if you break this rule you are gonna…"

"Think I've got it," Berwald nearly shouted. This looked like it could go on all night. "If I have any quest'ns I'll ask."

Denmark flashed a grin. "Good thinking, Sweden. The rules are posted in the study, in Danish, Norwegian, Icelandic, Finnish, English, and Ancient Babylonian."

"Right. Good. Um. I'm g'nna go now." Berwald stood and rushed from the room as fast as he could without actually running.

Behind him he could hear Denmark laughing raucously. "Oh, he's gonna be fun."

"I'll say," Iceland agreed in a faintly worrying tone.

"I give him a day," Norway intoned flatly.

"Don't be mean, guys." Tino's voice was the last thing Berwald heard before he fled up the stairs. "He's nice. I like him… I think."

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

#catch perfect chapter 2

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anxiouslyfred · 6 years

Text

When Emotions take Over

@sanderssidesspook @awesomelissawho

For the prompt ‘Ghost side’

Thomas knew that his sides weren’t always manifested as human forms, even when in the mind space. He’d been well aware of how they formed their personalities as well as how it changed occasionally how their function worked within him if they were manifested or not.

What he didn’t realise, and none of the sides were willing to tell him, was that they still thought of themselves as having a form, and were usually pushed out of it because their function was either unimportant to him at the given moment, or because the other sides had effectively pushed them out of being by their functions growing too strong.

Virgil had only occasionally encountered this happening happening to himself and usually loved the idea, because it meant that Thomas was confident and proud of his achievements, that Roman wasn’t disparaging himself at all, and Patton was contented, with no negative emotions lurking beneath his bouncy personality. To know that was all he needed to happily float through the mind space invisible to the others.

But he hadn’t seen, or really none of them had, was just how it appeared as one of the others faded from manifesting, effectively becoming a ghost to them all. Usually it was possible to tell your function was dwindling and enclose yourself away, so when Logan started staring at his hand, the others all thought there was nothing wrong. He’d have left, surely if he was going to disappear.

The logical side vanishing however wasn’t as even Roman had believed it to appear. Squares of the rest of the room started to flicker through his form, as Roman and Patton carried on discussing the crush that Thomas was developing, having turned it into a challenge as to who could compliment the others more in their comparisons to the hosts attraction.

Virgil himself had been trying to keep quiet, only wanting to provide the small butterfly nerves to Thomas so let the emotional labour be run by the compliments they were sharing. He had glanced over at Logan, not understanding what fascination he could have found in his hand before seeing the kitchen through his tie.

“Logan!” He called out, freezing the conversation happening, and getting the others attention.

Before their logic could speak however he had disappeared completely.

“Lo?” Patton asked the air after a moment, “We don’t feel stronger than normal though?”

Roman smiled, “So there’s no argument that our crush is amazing because of how he thinks outside of the box just like Logan can do when making connections to his studies?” He said out loud to get another compliment in.

“It’s because Thomas is relying on all emotions at the moment. We are all part of his emotions, but Logan isn’t quite as strongly since the main emotion he’s ever connected to his curiosity. Passion, Fear and Worries, and well just about all the other emotions I can’t name is what keeps us here, but Thomas is turning to dreams to fill any curiosity he’d have just now. No place to keep Lo around.” Virgil tried to reason out, biting the nail of his thumb.

That reasoning made them all pause, wondering what was being said to them from the ghost Logan currently was. “But we want to know more about our crush, doesn’t that work?” Roman asked, leaning forwards and pointing to the ceiling with one hand.

Logan meanwhile had sighed and sat down on top of the table. “Either talk to Thomas about his crush or find something other than him to talk about that might cause a need for information. Curiosity really is a tiny portion of what I embody.” He muttered to the air, wondering not for the first time if they could effect the mind space while non-corporeal.

“We need our expert genius to help us get our Einstein back.” Roman was saying, trying to compliment Logan into existing again which while it did flatter him a lot he knew would prove pointless. Instead Logan thought of things he could try to effect which might suggest what they could do, looking the bookcase over.

“We love our teacher. Love him so soo much.” Patton had obviously picked up on the idea, though Logan could see Virgil shaking his head out of the corner of his eye, having moved to the window of the kitchen.

There was a bag of flour still on the side from where Roman had been baking earlier. Contemplating it, Logan reached out, trying to knock the bag over, or will some of the flour onto the side as Virgil finally spoke up, “Guys, pretty sure our nerd doesn’t want compliments just now. He knows we love him, but that’s an emotional reaction. Is there anything Thomas normally calls on Logan for?”

“Just knowledge and memories I think.” Patton commented after a moment, especially if he wants the memory without too much emotional detail.”

Logan couldn’t get the flour to do anything while listening to the conversation so tuned the others out completely, pushing on the bag and feeling his hand go straight through it. The second try while entirely focused however made the bag wobble though it righted itself.

“Logan, you usually think my baking is pointless, leave the flour alone.” Roman called over, having spotted the movement and starting to cross the room. He was ignored by the invisible side who was still entirely focused on knocking the flour over now, and managed it on his fourth try.

“Computer Watch, well done, you can impact our home while invisible, but now I need to clear that up.” Roman chided gently, shivering as he stepped up to the counter and into exactly the same space as the Logical side would have been if corporeal.

Knowledge

The word appearing in the flour made him pause from sweeping it all up. “What do you mean? That’s what you offer Thomas, we all know.” Roman’s quiet question had Virgil and Patton joining him in front of the counter, while Logan moved to the other side, hoping they’d read upside down.

needs to want

The short phrases almost drained all of Logan’s energy. He might have proven that they could impact the mind space while basically ghosts but it took at his guess a hundred times the effort that it would usually, like trying to write with a 10 pound pen.

“We need Thomas to want knowledge or facts about something.” Virgil worked out the meaning first, glancing at the pair beside him.

“Well what could we need to know?” Patton questions, scrunching his face up, concerned about the disappearance now it had been a while, since none of them had been ghosts since getting together.

Roman however was watching the anxious side, speculatively. “You know, Dark Knight, I never heard what you think of Thomas trying to ask this guy out.” The remarked, causing everyone to freeze at the change of subject.

“He’s cute, and seems really nice. What about it?” Virgil’s words were clearly guarded, still not wanting to worry their host more than needed.

“But what worries do you have about him? I’ve never known you be so quiet about a potential romance before, even our own had you ranting in your room for hours both before and after agreeing to it.” Roman pushed a little.

There was a moment where the pair seemed to size each other up, both wanting the opposite thing before Virgil let out a breath. “Fine, he’s brilliant and seems to like Thomas but doesn’t know us that well. What if we get over energetic about something and scare him, but also where would we go on dates with him? Does he like the foods we do? Or will he want to go to those adventure places?”

“Everyone likes pizza kiddo. We can invite him there for our first date.” Patton tried to sooth, but Roman waved a hand to quiet him from answering all Virgil’s concerns.

“Are those all your concerns?” Roman checked, smiling when he got a shake of the head in return.

“Of course not. It’s another relationship. We’re sure Thomas is ready for one again after the last one? Can we be sure of that at all? And what about the shows we like. This guy hasn’t mentioned some of them before. Maybe he doesn’t like them...” Virgil’s words were cut off when he saw a square of black on the other side of the counter.

Roman nudged him however. “We might need you to keep on worrying a little more. It seems Thomas tries to respond to your anxiety with knowledge so please carry on telling us.”

The words spilling from Virgil’s lips then weren’t really acknowledged even by him, though they were clearly impacting Thomas. Everyone was riveted by Logan gradually appearing again.

Only once he was fully present again did Virgil stop talking, but at that instant Patton leapt halfway across the counter to lay over it, while Roman managed to hurdle it and grab Logan in his arms.

“Let’s work out how to bring each of us back anytime we ghost from now on.” Virgil sighed, walking around to join in their three way hug, the tension from seeing his boyfriend disappear finally leaving now they could all hold each other again.

#lamp #sanders sides #ghost logan

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kriscynical · 6 years

Photo

Studio Tour

In light of the need for distraction making me clean up my entire studio of the clutter that had accumulated over the last few months, it looks really nice right now. I enjoy when other people give tours of their work spaces, so here’s mine.

I’ve said it before but my studio is my sanctuary. It’s primarily my office space for my business as an illustrator/designer/colorist, but it’s also my nerd cave, lady lair, whatever other cutesy name you can think of. It’s a place that’s just mine where I can close the door and just be by myself. I spend 90% of my waking hours in here.

The magnet board is my system for letting other people in the house know what I’m up to without having to verbally tell them. Most of the time, you can bug me. If one of those arrows is pointing to “Working”, though, the house better be on fire before you disturb me.

The green chair is the Gaming Chair. I use the collapsible music stand for game guides and whatever else I need to look at while playing.

I don’t post about Aladdin a lot on my blog, but I’ve been an avid collector of Aladdin stuff for the last 25 years. This includes fine art, sculptures, jewelry, toys, just everything. My favorite pieces are on display in here.

My incomplete awards corner with my illustration degree and some of the awards I got for art things in high school. I still need to hang my State medals. Yeah, it’s high school, but those awards have really fond memories attached to them -- both people and events -- which I think of every time I look at them.

My mom gave me that lucky cat specifically to display in my office because it’s supposed to be good luck for business. The bottle is a mock up of a Takara Plum Wine packaging re-design I did in college.

The back wall. Favorite art pieces, favorite art books, and a bunch of retro gaming stuff. I need to replace the shelves in the bookcases before I can put all of my art books on them... the current shelves are particleboard, so they sag under the weight of so many big coffee table books.

My retro gaming setup, i.e. every Nintendo console I’ve had since childhood (save for the WiiU that’s in my bedroom) plus one PS2. They’re all hooked up to an 8 port switch box so I can play anything with the press of a button, and the controllers are stored in the black drawers. I’m still missing a few Zelda amiibos. Boo. >:\

The cherry blossom lamp is one of my favorite things in the whole room. Makka is the keeper of the keys for my studio and bedroom on her tail hook, and my latest Yuuri and Victor nendos gave her company with the magnets they came with. The cut off magnet below her says “Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.” The fridge is loaded with various drinks and tasty snacks so I don’t have to leave the room unless I really want to. lol

The Work Corner.

My big Victors are getting impatient waiting on their Yuuri companions. The adorable crochet Makka was a Christmas present from the lovely @paxohana.

Aaaaand my desk. I wear fuzzy arm warmers while working because they let my hand/forearm easily slide around on the surface of the Cintiq. The tight sketch for “Yes.” is prepped and waiting for color studies.

The strip of paper on the top of my monitor has the quote on it from my blog header: “The greater the artist, the greater the doubt; perfect confidence is granted to the less talented as a consolation prize. --Robert Hughes” I’ve had that quote within viewing distance of my work area for the last 15 years.

Last but not least, these guys keep me company. The little origami Totoro and Pikachu were given to me by one of the Japanese cast members in the Japan pavilion in Epcot after she saw the Totoro keychain I had on my drink koozie. They’re so cute I die every time I look at them, especially Pikachu’s little Japanese flag. That’s a real rose that I replace every other week... I like having something alive in my work space.

My studio was a labor of love from start to finish that I did a good 90% of the remodeling work on by myself with my dad’s teaching supervision, so I’m quite proud of it. I love love love it and don’t know what I used to do without it. I really do hope that every creative person out there either already does or will eventually be able to have their own space like this, because it really is invaluable to my mental/emotional health as well as my creative output.♥♥♥

#personal shit #photos #my studio #shut up kris

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lokidoki-imagines · 7 years

Text

The Secret Book Club Part 3

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Content/Warnings: If you squint, there’s sorta fluff? Though not with the god of mischief 😜 But more than anything there’s angst. You guys should have known that was gonna come sooner or later! Also minor spoiler for Ragnarok!

Words: 1864

Prompt: LOKI X READER WHO SHARE BOOKS AND READ TO EACHOTHER AND LOTS OF FLUFF HHH THAT WOULD BE SO CUTE PLEASE

Anon I promise we’ll get to your fluff soon, but it’s always so much fluffier when it’s built up, don’t you think? As always if you want to be added to the tag list, inbox me!

@Mrsethedreamqueen, @Asometimestroubledmind, @undiscoveries, @ladydork, @thefallenbibliophilequote, @What-lies-within-us, @mymourningtea, @autistic-alien, @pixierox101, @whatsbetterthanfantasy, @sarcasmismysexuality, @allltheships, @mrsstarkpotter, @meunicorn, @weasley-parker, @constellationsolo, @graysonmalfoy, @prncesskte, @mi-draws, @trans-kid-trash, @thecaptainamerica16, @deafeninghighheels, @also-known-as-me, @riverdalerebel

Part one Part two Part four Part five Part six Part seven (NSFW)

You threw your phone onto the floor as soon as you’d sent the text. Yes. Yes? What kind of answer is that? Sitting down on the floor beside your bed you pulled your head into your hands, knees drawing themselves to your chest. You tried to comprehend what was happening as you heard your phone vibrate. You didn’t want to see the answer, drawing your head up you gazed at your bookcase, your eyes scanning every spine. He’d read them all, he liked your books and you had to go and ruin the perfect set up by panicking as usual.

Falling onto your stomach you grabbed your phone and crawled back into your position on the floor. Flicking the screen on you were surprised to see that it was a text from Thor instead.

‘May I speak with you Y/N?’

Thor had picked up earth technology very quickly and knew a great deal about how everything worked, though he wouldn’t let Tony in on his secret. No it was much more fun tinkering with things then getting him to fix them instead.

‘Of course Thor, what’s wrong? Everything okay?’

Standing up you decided to change into warmer clothes while you waited for a reply. The seasons had begun to change and Tony refused to let you put the central heating on just yet much to your dismay. “It’s practically summer still Y/N!”

“Summer still my arse...” You mumbled, throwing a fluffy jumper over your head. There was a brief knock at the door, you panicked a little thinking that it was the mischievous god. Shaking your head to yourself you realised it couldn’t be, he hadn’t done the secret knock.

Frowning you opened your door to reveal Thor, “Walk?” He smiled. Nodding silently you pulled on some trainers and followed him down the corridor. “You’re cold.” He mumbled, eyeing your thick fluffy jumper with distaste. You wondered why but ignored it as he stopped abruptly in a narrow corridor.

You watched as he opened his mouth before looking up at the ceiling, seemingly collecting his thoughts.”Thor just spill it.” You wanted this over as quickly as possible. You were still pretty stressed about the whole Loki situation and needed to concentrate on that more than anything else, but you still wanted to be a good friend to Thor.

He placed one of his large hands on your shoulder and looked down at you, “Y/N. You’re like the sister I never had.” He paused and scrunched his face, “Well I did have a sister but she ended up destroying our home but, you get the idea.” He rushed before smiling gently again. “You’re like a sister to me and that’s why I want you to know that you can tell me anything.”

His words were sweet and made you a little emotional but you still didn’t quite get where this had all come from. You narrowed your eyes, “Is this because of that box of sex toys?” You asked quickly, avoiding his eyes a little as you relived the memory. You held your hands up “Because Thor you don’t have to worry about me, I don’t have a sex problem if that’s what you were thinking. I mean -”

Thor rubbed his chin and laughed a little. “- what’s so funny?”

“I may pretend that I am dim Y/N, however I see much more than people think.” Your heart dropped into your stomach as images of Loki flashed in your mind. You tried to play calm and neutral, pretending that you didn’t know what he meant with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Loki was never one to do things half hearted.” You froze as he started to walk. Remembering how to use your legs you hurried after him. “He’s always been bold and obnoxious and arrogant to a fault but he’s still my brother.” Stopping he turned to you quickly. “I’m not blind, Y/N.” He looked at you expectantly, though you weren’t really sure what you were meant to say.

“Why didn’t either of you tell me that you two are together?” Wait, what? “Loki needs you like...like...” He stopped, trying to find the right words. “Thor...”

Your heart broke for him, “Thor,” you spoke louder. He stopped his muttering as you placed a hand on his arm and shook your head. “Thor me and Loki aren’t together. We just...” You trailed off, trying to find the right words. “We’d sneak books to each other. He’d lend me his magic books, teach me a little and I’d lend him mine.”

Thors smile dropped as you carried on, “Then I was out of books and I panicked. I worried that if I didn’t find another book right then that he would leave and not bother anymore, and I didn’t want him to leave! So I threw that stupid copy of 50 Shades of Grey at his head and he did said that bloody thing at breakfast, so I planted those pants and then the box turned up and then we ended up here; both of us trying to outdo the other...” It really had been a whirlwind 24 hours, you glanced up at your friend. “But now I’m scared.” Retracting your hand back you fiddled with your jumper, avoiding the thunder gods gaze you stared at his shoes.

“Thor I don’t know what to do. I - I don’t want to lose Loki, but I never really had him to lose...He’s my best friend and...” Your voice grew thick as emotions you’d suppressed for a long time began to surface, you quickly wiped at your eyes. “ I preferred the emptiness when I didn’t know it was there.” You sniffed, feeling hopeless and just so tired.

Thor pulled you in for a hug and held you tight, squeezing you as you let out a quiet sob. “Y/N,” He sighed, his chin resting on your head. “Loki’s heart is a simple one, it only has two settings ‘not at all’ or ‘too much’ and I think I know which one it’s set too with you.” Squeezing him a little tighter you nodded, understanding what he was trying to say. “Talk to him,” He bade “not through texts or pranks. Just talk with him.”

He pulled you away slightly, keeping you within his arms he pursed his lips. “I’m glad it’s you Y/N, I could think of no one better.” And with a ruffle of your hair he turned, walking away down the corridor.

Glad what was me? No one better for what? Hugging yourself you left with your thoughts a jumbled mess and eyes redder than when you arrived. You walked until you reached the turn for Loki’s room. You could avoid him. You could do what you did with everything in life and simply avoid the pain and heartbreak by avoiding him.

Something was different this time though, you thought, forcing yourself to walk to his door. You didn’t want to avoid this time because you needed him in your life. “Even if it’s just as a friend.” You reassured yourself, knocking three times.

Movement was coming from behind the door as your heart rate picked up, your face flushed red and the tears were there behind your eyes as he pulled the door open.

He had a surprised look on his face when he saw you standing there, though it quickly turned to one of concern as he took in your puffy eyes and fidgeting hands. “What...Who...?” He stumbled, his green eyes searching yours.

You shook your head and stepped under his arm into his room. He’d had it decorated as soon as he’d arrived in stark white, though his belongings and accessories were all green and gold. You heard him shut the door and take a few steps in, lingering behind you.

Your eyes fell onto the trio of books sat neatly on his bedside table. You shook your head and turned to face him, “No.”

He raised an eyebrow, “No to all this, this pranking Loki. No more deliveries or staging or flirtatious texts!” Feeling the tears form you blinked them back, “No more. And for the record, I’m not crying because I’m upset okay? It just happens when I get angry,” You turned away and sat on the chest at the end of his bed. “just be thankful I’m not turning Bruce Banner on your ass.”

Loki stood stock still in his position as he watched you wipe your face on your sleeves, his expression giving away nothing. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Your words seemed to have woke him up as he moved to speak. “I made you angry?” He questioned, his voice more vulnerable than you’d heard it before, much softer as he moved with quiet grace to the space next to you. Sniffing you nodded and shook your head together, “Yes, but no too.” His hands were still in his lap, “I’m not angry Loki I just...I wish I could erase the past day and we could just go back to how things were.” He turned his face away from you, but you saw the hurt on it. “Back to the easy friendship we had with our books -”

“Our easy friendship.” He spat, standing and pacing. “If you wish to go back to that then fine. We’ll go back to sneaking around in the early hours of the morning, telling no one of each others existence and pretending that nothing is happening.”

You frowned as he grew more agitated by the second. His handsome face was pulled downwards, “Loki -”

He shook his head vehemently, “Don’t Loki me as if you’re so innocent in all this!” You stood in anger, Loki standing still before you too. “Every flirtation I sent your way you sent back, every game I played you played along and I thought we both wanted the same thing but obviously I’ve grown too soft and blind.” He yelled, making you shrink a little. His height caused him to loom over you like a dark cloud, you matched his gaze and dug your nails into your palms.

“I’ll just leave then shall I? I don’t have to put up with this!” You cried, trying to ignore the feeling of your heart breaking. “I’ll just go and you’ll never have to see me again if you don’t want, it’s a big compound. I’m sure we could come to some sort of arrangement.” You laced your words with sarcasm like he laced his weapons with poison.

You stared him down and wanted him to say something, anything and you would stay. You’d plant yourself like a seed and stay and grow with him by your side for the rest of eternity if he would let you.

Instead he turned his face away and you had your answer. The ties that were holding you together snapped as you brushed past him towards the door, the tears flowing freely now. “It’s sad isn’t it?” Twisting the handle you paused and looked back at the prince, “I once thought worlds of you Loki,” With a broken voice you slipped into the corridor and cried “and now you’re just another lesson.”

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tomimagines · 7 years

Text

See You Again - Part 3

Characters: tom holland x reader

Notes: Don’t worry, the story isn’t over yet...

Song: Sweet Dispositon - The Temper Trap

Part 1 Part 2

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

TOM’S POV:

3:32 PM.

It’s only been three minutes since I last checked my phone. I’m waiting for the time to come so I can head over to the coffee house but time seems to be torturing me.

“Tom, what is going on with you, mate?”

I look up from my phone to find Harrison packing the last of his things into his luggage. “What do you mean?”

“You seem anxious,” he chuckles. “Is it that girl again?”

I sigh, smiling, before nodding. “Yeah. I hope I get to see her again today.”

He shakes his head. “What is it about her that has you like this?”

“Like what? I’m fine!”

“Your knee has been bouncing since you sat down and you keep checking your phone every two seconds.”

I roll my eyes playfully and then sit straight in my chair to compose myself. Placing my elbows onto my thighs, I lean forward and sigh once more. “Is it bad that I can’t stop thinking about her? She’s literally invaded my mind. I know her name and all but there’s still something mysterious about her. I want to know everything and anything about her, all of it.”

Harrison stops packing and takes a seat on the bed across from me. He crosses his arms once he sees I’m being serious.

I continue. “I don’t want to seem cliché but she’s not like other girls,” I chuckle at myself. “I mean even after she found out who I am, she still treated me as some guy she just met. She didn’t change her behaviour to impress me and she didn’t need to. Everything about her is impressive.”

I say the last sentence in a whisper.

I’m fucked.

“She’s got you whipped,” Harrison speaks my thoughts, but his tone isn’t condescending.

“And I don’t understand why!” I stand up and start pacing back and forth in front of him. “When I read her writing, I felt like she gave me an insight of herself. Then just talking to her, it feels like… like I’m floating. You should see when she starts speaking about her stories and her ideas. Her face actually glows, it’s the cutest thing. She has this sort of voice that makes you want to record it and listen to forever.”

I smile to myself as I remember the sound of her voice in my head. “I’m so screwed, Harrison.”

I hear his chuckle but his face suddenly turns grim. “Tonight’s the last night you’ll see her, though.”

I stare at him for a bit and eventually nod, looking away. “She doesn’t know that.”

“Then I say you take advantage of the time you have left, mate.”

He’s right. The more I sit here, the more time I waste not spending it with her.

I mutter a quick goodbye to Harrison and bolt out the door. Reaching the elevator, I press the ‘down’ button repeatedly. As I wait for it, I start to think of ideas on what to do when I see her. Even though I can sit and talk to her forever, I want to do something that gives me more insight of who she is.

I want to create a memory that I can keep for a long time.

***

I’m practically sprinting when I reach the entrance to the coffee house. I yank open the door and dash inside. I try to steady my breathing and let my heart calm down as my eyes dart from face to face, looking for one in particular.

I walk towards the steps and then I see her, sitting at the same table from last time. From the first time.

Our spot.

I go down the stairs and walk up to her. “Hey,” I breathe out because suddenly I’m at a loss for words.

She has her hair down today- well half of it, the other half is still up in a ponytail. She didn’t bring her backpack today which makes me grin. She doesn’t want to stay here, either. Her cheeks flush pink when she looks up at me, “Hi.”

“Were you waiting long? I was trying to hurry-”

She shakes her head and waves her hand, “You’re fine. I just got here a few minutes ago, too.”

I don’t sit across from her this time. Instead, I stand next to the table, closer to her. I lean my arms on it and clasp my hands together.

“You probably know New York better than I do but I would like to take you somewhere,” I say quickly and I’m pretty sure she understood none of it.

She’s looking down at my hands before she glances up at me. “I’ll let you take me anywhere you want if you let me give you something.”

My eyebrows shoot up and I stand back straight. “Should I be scared?”

She laughs, “No, dummy. Sit down.”

I smile at her as I take a seat. I watch as she reaches into her handbag and takes out a small leather bound journal. A thin strap is wrapped around it several times acting as a bind. She holds onto it tightly in her hands.

“Um,” she pushes a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, “My mind is wild. I have so many thoughts and ideas and it gets crazy so I always carry a journal with me to write it all down. I literally have thousands of these laying around at my place.”

I grin at the thought of getting to see her place. I start to picture bookcases on every wall, paper thrown around on the floor.

“But anyway,” she continues, “This one is my most recent one and I finished it last night. I know you might leave soon so I wanted you to have it.”

She hands me her journal; her thoughts, ideas, opinions, all of her in it. It’s like she read my mind and knew what I was looking to find from her. I take it gently as if I might damage it and just stare at it. “This is… wow. Are you sure?”

She nods. “But I do have one request regarding it, though. Could you read it once you leave?”

It’s an odd request and it makes me kind of sad. I don’t want to leave, not yet. Which reminds me…

“About me leaving... It might be sooner than you think.” I purse my lips and look at her reaction. Her eyes go soft and I hope she’s not so upset. “I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon.”

“Then what are we doing still sitting here?” She glances down at her watch. “We only have… eight hours before you have to go.”

I love how she looks at the positive side of things. “Then let’s go,” I chuckle. “Mind holding this for me?” I hand her back her journal, which she places back into her handbag.

We make our way out of the building. The weather today seems to have given us a break; clouds obscure the bright sunshine trying to peep through. I lead the way down the street, “It’s just a couple of blocks from here.”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

She’s glancing at me even though her body stays facing forward. A small smirk is playing at her lips and it makes me feel like a little kid in a school yard talking to his crush.

“Nope!” I shake my head.

“Typical,” she mutters, playfully.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I laugh.

“It’s like a typical plot! The guy takes the girl to an unknown place and calls it a surprise to woo her,” she shrugs, laughing the most adorable laugh I ever heard.

“You think I’m trying to woo you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

She looks at me directly now and her mouth is slightly open in shock. “No?” It comes out in a question but her blush gives her away.

I turn my body so I’m walking backwards next to her. I look into her eyes and then say, “Are you feeling woo-ed?”

She rolls her eyes and then shoves at my shoulder, causing me to laugh. “Shut up,” she mutters but her cheeky grin lets me know that she’s enjoying the teasing.

I turn to walk forward again and we fall into a comfortable silence. We turn towards a new street and my hands suddenly start to feel heavy. I can feel her own hands swinging past my own, merely inches apart.

The current I felt the last time I touched her seems to have awaken and my hand yearns to make contact with her again. But I don’t know if she’d want me to and I’m not sure if I could take the rejection.

So instead, I stuff my hands into my pockets.

I hear her snort and when I look in her direction with a raised eyebrow, she answers with, “That’s cute.”

“What is?”

“The fact that you want to hold my hand but don’t know how to,” she simply states.

“Oh God,” I moan and cover my face with my hands. “How did you know that?”

“I write about boys like you in my stories!” She laughs.

I chuckle and shake my head at myself from embarrassment.

I’m completely taken by surprise when I feel her fingers slide into my hand. I glance down, and sure enough, her hand is in mine, prying my fingers apart so she could cover the spaces with her own.

The tingly feeling that erupts from her touch and travels all the way up my arm and towards my chest is almost overwhelming. It’s a feeling you never want to get rid of. A feeling you never want to let go of.

So I hold her hand tightly, smiling like an idiot as I focus on how perfect her hand fits in mine.

“Since you write about boys like me,” I begin, “Can I expect a book written about me anytime soon?”

“I may have started on it,” she replies.

I glance down at her and she’s walking closer to me now, her body leaning towards mine.

Eight hours to go.

“It’s just up here,” I mention as we come up to a teal, battered, old door. There’s no sign outside and there’s nobody going in or coming out.

“This is the surprise?”

“What’s that saying? ‘Never judge a book by it’s cover’?” I say.

“Ha ha,” she mocks. She walks forward and pulls me along with her, not letting go of my hand. “Should I knock?”

“Just walk right on in,” I tell her.

She turns the doorknob and then pushes the door open, stepping inside slowly and me following right after.

Inside is the complete opposite to what we saw outside. Paintings hang from floor to ceiling on the walls surrounding us. They form a narrow hallway, forcing us to walk forward where stairs wait for us at the end. As we near the stairs, a sign sits to the side reading, “If you want more wonder, go upstairs.”

“Should we go?” I hear her say.

“I’ll go where you go,” I respond.

She gives me the sweetest smile and then pulls me along with her towards the stairs.

The second floor opens up to a wide space; bookshelves aligned along the walls filled with books, old and new. Bases are set up randomly around the landing, showcasing different objects. Several people walk around, admiring and some even reading books.

She’s looking in all directions and I’m not really sure if her reaction is a good or bad one. Her fingers squeeze mine before she turns to look at me. “I’m completely woo-ed, Tom.”

The joy I felt at her words would be enough to keep me happy for a long time.

“How did you find this place?”

“Honestly,” I scratch the back of my head, “I googled ‘places no one knows about’ and this was the first thing that popped up.”

She softly laughs, “Well you hit the jackpot. This has already become one of my favorite places.”

“Want to look around?” I offer.

She shakes her head, which takes me by surprise. “I say we play a game,” she whispers at me.

“What kind of game?” I smirk down at her.

“We each walk around and try to find one thing that we think the other person will enjoy or love.”

“And what if one of us doesn’t like the thing the other person chose?” I ask.

“Then the one who picked the wrong object will buy dinner,” she shrugs, trying to look innocent.

I agree to the terms and as soon as her hand lets go of mine, I start craving for her touch all over again.

So we both spread out towards opposite sides of the floor to look for this object. I rack my brain while looking at all the things placed randomly on tables. Now would be a good time to have the journal she gave me to get a little bit of an insight of the things she likes.

There’s nothing but more books and manuscripts of some sort and even though I know she loves to write, I don’t think more paper will stand out. I continue through rows of stands stuffed with more things.

Through the spaces of the objects and the shelves, I steal glances in her direction. She’s biting her lip as if she’s thinking really hard. I take this chance and admire her from afar.

She picks up object after object, analyzing them deeply before she gives a quick shake of her head and puts it back down. She’s holding onto the strap of her handbag that lays across her chest as she walks further down the bookcases. I follow her but from my side. She’s biting her lip once more and I begin to think about what it would be like to kiss her. My whole body goes into overdrive from just holding her hand, I can’t imagine what it would do to me if my lips made contact with hers.

As if she had just read my thoughts, her cheeks turn bright pink and she glances in my direction. I grin at her and she smiles back, shaking her head as she turns back around.

I stare after her for a little bit longer before I look away and that’s when I see it. The perfect thing.

I leave it where it is and make my way over to her. “I think I found something you’ll love,” I tell her.

“Me too! Here,” she hands me a simple cassette. I flip it over and messy writing labels it as ‘90’s HipHop Mixtape’. “I figured it’d be the kind of music you’d like.”

“I really wish I owned a walkman, right now,” I chuckle. “But thank you, you’re right I love it.”

“My turn, then,” she grins excitedly. When she sees my empty hands, her eyebrows furrow.

“It’s over here,” I point behind me and lead her towards it.

A vintage typewriter sits on a white stand. It’s brown and a bit scraped on the sides but it’s keys remain shiny. There’s even paper still etched onto it, ready to be typed in.

A small gasp comes from my side and I glance over at her. Her hands cover her mouth in awe and surprise. She steps closer and leans down to look at it closer. “It’s beautiful. Look! People have typed on it!”

I get closer and finally see the small phrases people left in the paper. “Write something,” I tell her.

She’s giving me the biggest smile I’ve seen and she takes position in front of the typewriter. “What should I write?”

I move to stand in front of her. “The first thing that comes into mind when you close your eyes.”

She’s looking at me, I mean, really looking at me. I see her eyes move along my face before she closes them and then her fingers begin to move. It takes a few seconds before she’s done.

“Can I read it?” I ask tentatively.

She simply nods and steps back to let me lean down and read her words.

‘With brown eyes like yours, I can’t help but think of the next time I’ll see you again.’

Six more hours to go.

#tomholland #tom holland #tom imagine #Tom Imagines #tomimagines #tomhollandimagines #tomhollandimagine #imagine #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines

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mysnarkyslytherinsecret · 7 years

Note

Hey! Your writing is brilliant and your portrayal of Severus is spot on! Writing such a complex character mustn't be easy, so congrats! I was wondering if you could write Severus struggling to confess his feelings for his SO (it can be Hermione, if it's easier for you to write the scene with her). Let's face it, he would be so freaking nervous and cute while trying not to make a stuttering fool of himself! I just want to read a oneshot about that :-) PLEASE and TY

Severus forced himself to look into the mirror and attempted to smile at himself.

“Ugh,” he muttered, a scowl creasing his forehead several times over. “That’ll never do. I look like a creep.”

He did not say like a fool, but then again, self-evident things did not need to be said aloud.

For as long as he could remember, Severus had gone through extreme lengths to retain his dignity and gain the respect of others, but it seemed that Fate had other ideas. There was, however, only one thing that he hated more than being seen as foolish or disrespected.

“No. I refuse to be a coward,” he said to his reflection. “Today I shall tell her.”

Hermione Granger had been scarred and traumatized at least as much as the rest of them, but she endured. Flourished, even. But tragedy had its way of striking. She’d been set to marry the youngest Weasley boy when he’d died heroically protecting a school bus full of muggle children from a rogue Death Eater’s explosive curse magic. Not two days after the funeral she’d just thrown herself even more tirelessly into her work, writing papers on Transfiguration on the side and publishing them, much to the delight of the Transfiguration community, which hadn’t seen this much activity since the 1800’s. As Minerva had grown older and more comfortable in her Headmistress duties, she’d been thankful to give Hermione as much extra work as her heart desired. She’d been promoted from Transfiguration professor to Head of Gryffindor and Deputy Headmistress in slightly under a decade.

Tonight would be her thirtieth birthday, and Severus knew that his luck would only hold out for so long before someone finally came along and snapped her amazing arse up and rode off into the sunset with her or whatever horrible cliched metaphor his brain had decided to trot out to the forefront of his imagination each day.

He hadn’t meant to fall for the brazen Deputy Headmistress, but then again, he hadn’t expected to survive, much less return to Hogwarts. Minerva still ruled the roost as Headmaster, but as soon as she’d found out about his postwar dire straits, she refused to leave him alone until he’d returned. He wasn’t exactly a professor any longer- a former Advanced Potions student from Hufflepuff, Vivianne Tempson was an exceptional Potions Mistress, but she was also gifted in the art of teaching. It was an art, Severus supposed, one that he’d never had much talent for.

Had he not been forced to stick around due to finances and the fact that even with his name cleared, he was still largely despised by the Wizarding World at large, Severus might have moved into a new line of work. But in his mind, that ship had largely sailed. He’d lived most of his life within the stone walls of Hogwarts castle, and he felt vulnerable anywhere else.

“Pathetic,” he’d mutter to himself on particularly despondent nights. His dungeon quarters were just as he’d left them, as no one had wanted to live there if they didn’t absolutely have to. They made a perfect place for skulking, which was one of his favorite activities when he had nothing else to do.

After Madam Pomfrey had retired in the south of France, Severus had become, for all intents and purposes, the new Mediwizard. The truth was, he actually had seventh year prospective medi-magic students run the infirmary as part of a prerequisite for studying at St. Mungos, and he only ever really consulted in on dire cases, which were few. Instead, he mostly spent his time in his lab brewing various potions and experimenting on more potent blends. This was just fine with him. He didn’t have to subject himself to the inanity of whining students, and the students did not have to be subjected to his abrasive personality. He filled in for the odd class here and there- Severus knew pretty much all of the classes by heart and could substitute on a moment’s notice, though the students often dreaded these days for the same reason that Severus did. He also no longer worked as Head of Slytherin House. That honor went to Draco Malfoy, who’d become the Flying professor after Madam Hooch had retired the previous spring.

Oddly enough, it hadn’t bothered him much to find the halls of Hogwarts filled with professors who’d been his own students. After all, Minerva had been his professor for seven years before she’d become his colleague. It’d taken slightly more than a year before Severus had felt comfortable enough to have a less-than-professional conversation with her, but from there, a close friendship had blossomed. They’d raged at each other about Albus and his quirky behaviors. They’d spent time developing inside jokes that could instantly be understood by a knowing nod and the quirk of an eyebrow. But Minerva had always been more like an older sister or a cool motherly sort of figure, not a romantic prospect.

Once again, Severus felt the sour twist of shame in his belly. He felt like some sort of cradle-robbing pervert despite the fact that he’d never so much as laid a finger on Hermione in an untoward manner. Of course, he’d helped administer the salve treatment to help Hermione transform back to a fully human body in her second year after her disastrous PolyJuice accident, but none of that had been remotely sexual, and Madam Pomfrey had been attending in any case. The whole time she’d been in school, he’d had the same irrational protective-yet-irritated frame of mind when it came to anything involving her. She’d stood out in her intelligence and drive to learn more, but that had been completely academic.

Now, though…

Severus thought back to the Thursday evenings in the professor’s lounge where they’d go on for hours and debate back and forth on current events, or new potions versus old standards…anything and everything, really. It had started a few years earlier and become something that Severus looked forward far too much for his own good.

Not that he’d allow himself to admit that to anyone.

On top of that, she’d invited him to help her with a new brewing project she’d been working on to reduce the symptoms of those affected by lycanthropy throughout the month. As someone who’d brewed Wolfsbane perfectly for years and had a personal potions lab set up in the dungeons, which was connected to his quarters through a hidden passageway, Severus had been all too happy to offer her the space. At first, they’d worked at separate sides, but she’d come up with reasons to disturb him, to brush against him…to…Severus shook his head. No. It was all in his head…but then again…what if it wasn’t?

It was Saturday morning. She would probably be in the lab already, as he’d given her the password to the armor that guarded the door to his lab. Rather than go around, Severus decided to take the secret passageway from his quarters, if only to get a bit more time to himself to decide on whether he was going to put everything on the line just to confess his ridiculous, traitorous feelings.

Severus was an expert at suppressing his feelings, but this was different. It was impossible for him to deny how she made him feel. His heart ached when she said his name. No amount of occlumency could keep his shields up when she looked up at him with her amber eyes and smiled in that confident way that made her eyes crinkle a bit at the corners.

Oh, how he craved that smile.

Severus came through the swinging bookcase, his head still filled with anxiety, and nearly barreled full-tilt into Hermione, who was in the process of putting on a thick pair of rubber gloves.

Severus let out a yelp just as Hermione turned and squeaked in surprise, her leg caught on the edge of the bookcase. Unconsciously, he reached out and grabbed her as she began to fall and pulled her close against his chest. For a long moment, they both stayed like that- Severus with his arms grasping her tightly and Hermione with her head folded against his chest, her heartbeat slowly going back to normal.

“Severus, I didn’t see you there!” Hermione said, finally, her voice a bit muffled.

Severus immediately released her and took a step back, his face growing hot with mortification. “I…it was…I was late…and…I apologize for manhandling you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hermione replied with a smile and a shrug. “At least I wasn’t handling anything caustic when you came through. Where, exactly does that passageway lead?”

“My…er…quarters,” Severus admitted.

“That’s rather convenient,” Hermione said, nodding sagely, “I bet you can come and check on long-standing brews with ease.”

“Yes, that was the intended…er…rationale,” Severus replied, relief washing over him.

“Hey, maybe you could invite me back for a cuppa while I’m waiting for my Lupislazurary to steep,” Hermione said with a smirk. “I mean, you have to admit that the chairs here are murder to sit in.”

“I’d like that.” Severus blurted the words out before he could properly think of whether it would be the smartest thing to say.

“Oh?” Hermione seemed surprised.

Severus inwardly cringed. Of course she wouldn’t be so impolite as to actually invite herself to his quarters, but he’d taken the words at face value, largely because it would make this whole maneuver so much easier if he could actually figure out if she felt the same way about him.

“You’re welcome to come anytime. In my quarters.” Severus winced. God, he was cocking it all up. “I mean, I’d love to have you-have…tea with you…”

Hermione’s eyes widened and something like recognition filled her expression.

Severus felt his own eyes mirroring hers. “What I mean is…I…”

He was stuttering as she pulled the single rubber glove off of one of her hands with a loud snapping sound reached up to cup his face under the right side of his jaw.

Merlin, her hand is so soft and warm. Despite his anxiety, Severus closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.

“Ah,” Hermione’s voice was soft, but there was so much wonder in that soft breath of a word, that Severus could feel his pulse begin to race.

“Ah, indeed,” Severus replied, his voice catching slightly as he opened his eyes again and looked at her with a mixture of sadness and longing.

“Oh, Severus, why didn’t you say something earlier?” Hermione said, her voice slightly husky.

“I…am not good with words,” Severus replied numbly, feeling almost as though the words were being said from outside of himself.

Are we really speaking about the same thing?

“I thought…Minerva said…she said you’d never…”

“Never what?” Severus could feel his voice go gravelly as he struggled to swallow the lump that had mysteriously appeared in his throat.

“That no one could compare to the one you lost, so it was a fool’s errand to try,” Hermione said, taking her hand back and looking away from him.

Severus stared at her for a long moment. And then, a tiny giggle escaped his lips, growing until he was practically roaring with a hysterical, uncontrollable sort of laughter.

“She said that I….Merlin’s pants, that’s…that’s…the most…ludicrous…” he gasped and suddenly he could feel all of the doubt and the anxiety drain from his body as though it had seeped from the soles of his dragonhide boots. It was time. He would tell her. “Hermione…this is how I feel about you.”

Threading his fingers through her wild, curly hair, he leaned down and kissed her.

#severus snape #hermione granger #snanger #snamione #fanfiction #kisses #love #angst

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