#bowtie! hair curl! you get it all huh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tom-whore-dleston · 3 years ago

Text

Versace on the Floor

Pairing: sugar daddy!Simu Liu x f!reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: PWP, daddy kink, semi public sex, dumbification, wall sex, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), spanking, gagging, slapping, pain kink, scratching, dirty talk, tit worship, (almost) mirror sex, overstimulation, fuck ton of teasing, Simu calls reader S word (again), Simu at the Oscars (that shit is a whole warning fr), Simu speaking French, reader almost getting caught in 4k, Benedict Cumberbatch being a true G

Summary: Simu takes you as his plus one to his first Oscars and there’s more to celebrate than him presenting an award.

Word Count: 2.6k

Beta Read: s/o thot squad x3000

Notes: I’ll save the chit chat til y’all read this 2.6k of straight up porn o.O Remember to reblog and comment if you enjoyed what you read 😊

photos: @/simuliu - IG | banners: @maysdigitalarts | dividers: @firefly-in-darkness

You stood in front of the mirror for what felt like eternity. To say that you looked like a million bucks was nothing more than an exaggeration. It was the truth. You wore a flashy gold dress designed by the Donatella Versace. It was definitely a lot to unpack. All you could do was stare at yourself in awe, and you couldn’t even begin to process how breathtaking Simu looked.

Your beau was dressed in an all red suit with a black bowtie and gold accents to tie his look together. Ms. Versace originally suggested that he go shirtless under the suit, but she took your flustered expression and silence as disapproval. Little did she know, you were secretly daydreaming about leaving hickies all down his torso while still sporting the suit. Of course, Simu could read you like a book and teased you the rest of the night for it. Shirtless or not, Simu looked delectable, which only fed into your dirty thoughts about him.

“You are so beautiful, my honey baby,” Simu hummed, slithering his arm around your waist. His other hand moved your hair away to expose your neck, pressing gentle kisses from your shoulder to the top of your neck. You melted under his touch, watching him in your reflection. His eyes met yours in the mirror, causing him to smirk against your skin.

“Oh, I see,” he chuckled and then kissed behind your earlobe, causing your knees to almost buckle. “Baby like watching Daddy make her feel good in the mirror, huh?”

“Simuuuu,” you whimpered, your pussy already pulsating as hard as your heartbeat. This only egged him on. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flat against him so your ass could grind against his hardening cock.

“Do I turn you on that much, baby? Is it the outfit that’s making you horny?”

You moaned as you rubbed against his groin and continued to do so while he talked.

“Aww, I know, honey. I know you try to be so innocent, but deep down, you’re undressing me and imagining my big cock down your throat. I bet you want me to take you right now so everyone outside those doors can hear how dumb you get when I fuck the shit out of you. I know damn well you wanna watch me fuck you in the mirror like the little slut you are. Is that right, honey?”

Before you had the chance to open your mouth, came a knock against the door. You held your breath as a voice announced it was time to leave for the Oscars. Simu cleared his throat and yelled back a ‘yeah’. Simu and you locked eyes through your reflection, his dark eyes still gazing over you.

“We’ll continue this later. We have the Oscars to attend. Let’s go, honey.” With that, he slapped your ass before heading towards the door.

The night hadn’t even started and you were already wrapped around Simu’s finger. You could only anticipate more teasing from there.

During the whole car ride, Simu crooned over how gorgeous you looked and how both your outfits complimented one another. He called you his lucky charm and he couldn’t have been where he was without you. While you curled up next to him like a kitten, he would stroke your thigh and kiss the top of your head. You spread your legs in hopes he would touch you where he wanted you most. Simu tsked and shook his head.

“Dirty girl. Just can’t help herself when Daddy touches her.”

You pouted and gave him a pair of sullen eyes.

Simu smirked. “Don’t worry, you’ll get what you want in time. As much as I love getting you all riled up, I gotta focus right now. You know how important this is to Daddy, right?”

You nodded.

“It’ll only be a few hours so just wait until then. Can you do that for Daddy?”

You nodded again and he interlocked his hand with yours.

The show finally started and you sat amongst a number of other celebrities you admired. They welcomed you and Simu with open arms and gushed over how cute you both were together. Simu did all the talking while you just took in the fact that you just hugged so many famous people. You couldn’t wait to tweet about how Benedict Cumberbatch and his wife just called you relationship goals. It was only fair that you did since Simu already tweeted about Ben before his career took off.

Simu was currently onstage, alongside Tiffany Haddish to present an award. Somehow the conversation ended up in Simu speaking French and everyone in the auditorium staring in shock. Then, Tiffany started openly flirting with him, causing Simu to laugh timidly while biting his lip. Normally, you would’ve been upset if someone openly flirted with him in front of you, but after meeting her at the party before the show, you understood she was only milking out her role as a presenter.

The more shy Simu got while onstage, the more he bit his lip. Perhaps it was because you were left high and dry twice, but you found yourself aroused by him biting his lip. You subconsciously squeezed your thighs together and shifted in your seat. Luckily, the other stars were busy with the show to notice you . All accept Benedict fucking Cumberbatch.

“You alright?” He asked in concern. “You seem uneasy.”

You shot him a toothy grin to hide your discomfort.

“Yeah, I’m fine! Just really happy for him, you know.” Benedict smiled and nodded before turning his attention back to the stage. By the time Simu escorted the winners off stage, you had managed to control your arousal before he returned to your side.

Simu huffed a long exhale. “That was, uhhh-”

“Amazing! Oh my gosh!” You caressed his face and pecked his lips. “I’m so proud of you, baby!” Simu kissed you again, making sure everyone around him had their eyes on you both.

“Told you I couldn’t have done it without you.” He snaked his arm around you, glancing down at the cut in your dress that accentuated your breasts. Simu leaned into you, lips barely brushing the shell of your ear. You can smell the lingering sweetness of wine on his breath before he purred slowly, “voulez-vous coucher avec moi?”

Remembering the little exchange he had with his co-presenter, you quirked the corner of your mouth into a sly grin. “Oui,” you paused awkwardly, “uhhh…Daddy?” Simu snickered at your cute attempt at a French accent and pressed his lips to your cheek.

“Come with me. There’s something I wanna show you.” Before you knew it, Simu yanked you out of your seat and dragged you out of the room.

“Simu, what are you doing?” You yelped, catching up to him. Your heels did not help you as Simu took bigger strides towards his destination. People around you stared in confusion and you just smiled awkwardly at them. Simu stopped once he reached a hidden area of the theater. You raised an eyebrow at him, expecting an answer from him.

“I found this little spot while backstage.” He reeled you closer towards him until you were pressed against his firm body. “Now, you and I can finish what we started.” Simu tilted your chin up before stooping down and catching your lips with his. He cornered you into a wall, trapping you between his warmth and the cold surface. You wasted no time in shoving your tongues in each other’s mouths, making wet, lewd sounds in the process.

Simu unzipped your dress, allowing it to fall to the floor and reveal your naked figure. He immediately started kissing down your body, whispering your name against your soft skin. Once he reached the valley between your chest, he grasped one of your breasts while swirling his tongue around your taut bud. Your hand clasped over your mouth while the other held his head in place as Simu lathered your nipple with his spit. His name fell from your lips as he repeated the same process to your other boob and with more greed.

His lips traveled down your stomach, stopping right where you wanted him most. You attempted to rut your hips forward, but Simu pushed you back against the wall with his hand right above your pelvis.

“Daddyyyy,” you whispered as he peppered kisses along your inner thigh. The closer he got to your center, the more intoxicated he became by your scent. Your pussy was absolutely soaked and Simu could no longer wait to taste you. Simu peered into your lust filled eyes, making sure your focus was on him only. Without breaking eye contact, Simu dove in between your legs like a starved man.

“Oh, fuck yeah, Daddy!” you cried softly as he licked up and down your folds. “Yes, Daddy, eat my pussy like that! Yesss!” Without warning,Simu removed his mouth from you and spanked your clit, causing you to yelp. He spanked it again with more force.

“Quiet down, honey,” Simu warned before shoving his face back into your core. He suctioned your labia into his lips and shook his head from side to side. You threw your head back against the wall, rolling your eyes until your vision went fuzzy. As he ate your pussy, Simu yanked his pants down to stroke his erect cock. He pumped himself faster as he fucked you with his mouth, his brown eyes growing needy for your nectar.

You clenched your jaw and teethed on your bottom lip to prevent a scream from escaping your vocal cords. His growl against your pussy made you rut your hips against his face, pushing you closer to your finish. A sinful chuckle from Simu caused pulses of electricity to course through your body. He threw your legs over his shoulders as he knelt straight up. Then he lifted you in the air with the wall and his shoulders as your only support. No other sexual experience could possibly top Simu eating you out while carrying you over his shoulders. It was the hottest shit to ever happen to you. And Simu knew it by the smug look on his face.

“C’mon honey, I know you wanna cum for Daddy. Cum all over my mouth, baby girl, but you better fucking be quiet.” He stuck his tongue out for you to ride your wetness against while he jerked his cock until it turned a glowing shade of red. You fucked his tongue until pleasure exploded inside your body. You muffled incoherent sounds into your sweaty palm, smearing your lipstick all over your face. Simu held back from coming undone since he wanted to save that for when he was inside you. He licked up the sweet juices that smeared all over his mouth and chin, humming at the addicting taste of you. Realizing the mess that dripped onto his outfit, he removed his button up to reveal his washboard abs.

Simu didn’t give you much time to recover before he helped you to your feet. Your legs were jello as he slapped his dick against your sensitive hole. You gasped at the stimulation, leading Simu to undo his bowtie. Once it was off his neck, he gagged your mouth with the fabric.

“That should keep you quiet, yeah?” Simu spat, patting your cheek. You closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of his hard hand on your skin. He raised one eyebrow inquisitively.

“You like that, honey?” You nodded enthusiastically. Without warning, he lightly slapped your face. The way your pupils dilated, on top of your melodious whines, unleashed a familiar darkness in him. He hooked your legs around his waist, lining up his tip at your entrance.

“We can save that for the after party, baby. I need to have you right now.” Simu thrusted his hips forward, groaning as your warmth engulfed his shaft. You were lucky that his bowtie kept you gagged, otherwise you would have broken glass with your high pitched cries. He mercilessly pummeled into you, fervently growling into the crook of your neck. The way he stretched you, along with his feral sounds, caused you to claw at his back and biceps.

“God damnit, gonna scratch up my back again?” Simu grunted in a low, condescending tone. “You love when I fill you with all this cock that you just turn into a little slut for me, don’t you?” You wailed into the balled up fabric in your mouth as he pounded into you harder and deeper. Not even the gag could drown out the pornographic noises that erupted from your throat.

“Aww, my poor honey baby.” He mocked you with a fake sad face while pistoning his hips inside you. “Such a slut for Daddy that not even his bowtie can keep you quiet.” Simu licked up the side of your neck, chills creeping up your spine at the wet sensation. The more he fucked you, the more you coated his length with your slick. The squelching noises that came from in between you and Simu sounded like music to his ears. “Fuck, even this pussy is so wet and loud for me. I think you want us to get caught, huh? Imagine all of Hollywood finding out how much of a dirty slut Simu Liu’s sweet little girlfriend is. Is that what you want, baby?”

You nodded frantically, murmuring into the fabric.

“Too bad. No one is allowed to see you like this except for Daddy.”

As if a light switch was flipped, Simu lost control of his strokes. His moans were breathy and desperate as you were reaching your second, and most likely not final, orgasm of the night. It didn’t take long for him to announce he was about to cum and that he wanted you to cum with you. His hand flew to your clit and flicked it feverishly as he gave you a few more hard thrusts. Right as you were tipping off the edge, he removed your gag and enveloped your mouth with his. You soaked up each other’s moans as he shot his load inside you and you creamed around his girth.

After calming from your highs, Simu broke your kiss and slipped out of you, watching the mixture of sex seep from you like juices from the sweetest fruit. You leaned against the wall in bliss, not caring about the cum dripping from your hole.

“How’s that for baby’s first Oscar?” You commented breathlessly. Simu huffed out a jagged laugh, lazily pecking your forehead.

“Can’t say much since there’s still an hour left.” You both hurried to get your clothes back on until you noticed Simu abandoning his button up shirt.

“Hey, what about your-”

“Well, remember when Donatella wanted me to go shirtless? Whatever Donatella Versace says, must go!” Your boyfriend winked at you, causing you to gulp as he put the red suit jacket back on. He spun you around to zip up your dress and then traced your collarbone with the tip of his tongue. You shivered, already overstimulated from cumming twice.

“Don’t tell me you’re all fucked out now. We still have the after party later tonight.” He spanked your ass, a subtle reminder of his teasing from back in the hotel suite. Before you could react with a smart comment, Simu was already heading back to the auditorium. You followed him like a lost puppy, praying no one would be suspicious of your absence.

Turns out you really were Simu’s lucky charm since no one acknowledged you both disappearing for almost an hour. However, when Benedict Cumberbatch noticed Simu without his white shirt, he glanced over at both of you in a suggestive way. You shrugged your shoulders and Simu laughed nervously. He nodded knowingly and flashed an approving wink at you two before spinning back towards the stage.

This truly was an Oscars to remember. Even if the night was still young for you and Simu.

Navigation | Main Masterlist | Simu Liu Masterlist | Honey Baby AU

#honey baby au #sugar daddy!simu liu #simu liu #simu liu x reader #simu liu x you #simu liu imagine #simu liu fanfiction #simu liu fic #simu liu oneshot #simu liu smut #sugar daddy au #female reader #reader insert #no y/n #lemon fic

290 notes · View notes

matbaerzal · 3 years ago

Text

Pocket Square | D. Ricciardo

Summary: Daniel uses your black lace panties as a pocket square / based on this post Warnings: It's smut with a side of plot.. it's also kind of public, but no one catches you :) Words: 800ish

Your body feels like it's on fire as he pushes you against the door to close it. His hand swiftly finding the lock to make sure no one interrupts you. You were for his eyes only right now.

The dress you were wearing had been driving him crazy all day. But he'd been a gentleman, kept his touches PG in contrast to his thoughts. He'd tried to wait until he could take his time with you, but when your hands started wandering, your words started teasing he couldn't help himself any longer. Now you only had 15 minutes until he had to be ready to be on the runway for the Amber Lounge.

His suit was already on, it had been your tipping point really. There was something about him in a suit - it was a sight you didn't see too often. Maybe it was the way his bowtie brought your attention to his strong neck. Or how the lines of the suit accentuated his frame. Or how confident he looked. Or how the thought of carefully removing each item of clothing to reveal what was underneath made you wetter than you'd like to admit.

So here you were in a random toilet, his hands pinning yours above your head as your tongues meet. He groans into your mouth as he frees one of his hands to hook your leg at his waist to grind against you.

"Wanna taste you" he groans against your lips making you whimper. "You want that, huh? Want my lips on that sweet pussy of yours?"

"Fuck, yes- Daniel please"

He doesn't waste any time freeing your hands so he can get on his knees. He slides your panties down your legs and lifts one of them to rest on his shoulder before his hand slowly travels back up the length of your leg to tease you.

You can hear how wet you are as his fingers touch your lips to spread your arousal. He gives your clit a quick kiss, your head bumping into the door as you squirm with impatience.

"Shhh, baby, I got you" he murmurs before he spreads your lips with his fingers, his tongue licking a stripe through them before finally landing on your clit. You bite the palm of your hand to stay quiet as he works his tongue perfectly against you. He loved you like this and knew exactly what to do to get you desperate enough to grind against his mouth. You didn't even know you were doing it half of the time, your hips living a life of their own as you fuck yourself on his tongue.

He's groaning against you, enjoying this as much as you. It's not until he grabs a hold of your hips that you notice you'd been moving them - he buries his face into you making you moan out his name. It's stuck on repeat like a scratched record as he pushes you towards your orgasm. Your hips are stuck, grabbing a hold of his hair to feel some kind of control.

Looking down at him, he's completely lost in giving you pleasure, and though you know he's not about to stop you can't help the words tumbling out of your mouth as the knot in your stomach tightens, "keep going, keep going, keep goi-"

Your toes curl, your back arches off of the door, his eyes are on you and it's a look that says "cum for me". Your vision goes blurry and it crashes through you, wave after wave rolls as his tongue laps against you. He's soft as he works you through it, bringing you down from your high slowly, licking up all your cum.

He playfully bites the inside of your thigh as you look down at him. "If I could stop time-" he trails off, you bite your lip and nod, carefully running your hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it again. It looked unsuspicious enough for you now.

Before you can stop him he's grabbed his pocket square, running it through your folds carefully before turning it around to clean his mouth.

"Daniel-" you stare at him with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Aren't you supposed to have that for the show"

He shrugs, "nah, I'll use this". He picks up your panties, winking at you as he stands up, folding them neatly before placing them where his pocket square was. He adjusts your dress, kissing your lips as if he didn't just make you wet all over again.

"This is much prettier anyways, and dare I say risqué," he says, putting on a silly accent at the last word. He checks himself in the mirror, admiring the newest addition of your black lacy fabric.

"C'mon gotta get you that first-row spot, I heard there's this really hot Australian in the show, wouldn't want you to miss him," he smirks

You slap his arm, before checking yourself in the mirror too- "babe, you look beautiful" he grabs your hand, slowly opening the door to peek his head out. You assume it's clear as he opens it wider, walking the two of you out. You don't hesitate to match his slight hurry, you really didn't want to miss the hot Australian guy in the fashion show.

A/N: I have NO problem writing more of this if anyone wants that hjdskajf

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo imagine #op:smut #op:w #op:blurb

313 notes · View notes

cheesyficwriter · 3 years ago

Text

Happy Saturday! Today is the final day of Romione Week, and participating has been such a blast! Thank you again for all who have followed along, and a big kudos to @folk-melody for hosting @romioneweek. I hope you've all enjoyed reading the Romione goodness as much as I have ❤

Since it is a Free Day, I've chosen to finish up the final part of a series I started a while back ago, Sixth Year Ball. While this ficlet can stand-alone, some dialogue/writing could be confusing, so I do suggest reading the first two parts first 🙂 Enjoy!

Sixth Year Ball Part 1: The Waltz

Sixth Year Ball Part 2: The Invitation

Romione Week Day 7 - Free Day

An Unforgettable Evening

The day of the ball arrives, and Ron is nothing but a bundle of nerves.

He stands in front of the mirror surveying his appearance. The new dress robes that Hermione helped him pick out for the event are a logical choice — a black suit and matching bowtie, under a navy blue dress jacket. The black cushioned inner soles of his shoes feel comfortable the more he wiggles his toes around. His ginger hair is well-groomed, slicked back with just a small amount of hair gel. He's grateful to be rid of the disastrous attire that was his Yule Ball robes, although it does feel a tad strange to not be cloaked in hand-me-downs for once.

The stakes surrounding the ball are high, and if they weren't, he wouldn't be interested in going to the blasted event anyways, right?

He needs to put his best self forward for her.

This isn't just any first date. This is the date. Hermione isn't just some girl that he's attracted to, she's his best friend, she's his — well, bloody hell. What is she?

In an attempt to boost Ron's confidence, Harry babbles next to him, oblivious to Ron’s nervous breakdown inside of his head.

"It's completely normal to feel nervous."

"Harry, I know you're trying to be supportive mate, but-"

"Yeah, I'm rubbish at this, aren't I?" Harry laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You really are. And people say you're the chosen one — not the chosen one to give out advice, I'll say," Ron quips, giving his best friend a hearty shove.

"Don't be a tosser," Harry chuckles. "All I'm saying is that if you're feeling nervous, I can almost guarantee she's feeling the same."

Ron's lips curl up at the image of Hermione frantically scouring through textbooks on how not to be anxious.

He exhales a deep breath, studying his slicked back ginger hair in the mirror. "This is a date. Is this a date? It's a date, right?"

Harry snorts. "Well, how did you ask her?"

Ron squints one eye at his best friend. "Technically, she cornered me after she caught on to me trying to ask her and pretty much conjured the invitation out of me."

Harry ponders on the information. "Well...I think so then?"

This bloke seriously isn’t all that helpful in one of the largest departments of mysteries — women.

With one final clap on Ron’s shoulder, he says, "Now or never, huh? Come on, don't want to keep the girls waiting."

As it turns out, they arrive into the common room before Hermione and Ginny, leaving Ron with a few extra minutes to dwell in his pesky, anxiety-ridden thoughts. He always manages to let the negative thoughts creep in at the most undesirable moments.

But how does Hermione really feel about him? Did she only accept his invitation to the ball to be polite? Does she consider this evening an outing with friends or will it lead to something more between them?

"None of that nonsense," Ginny barks at Ron, disturbing his inner turmoil. When did she get here?

He frowns at his sister. "I didn't even say anything." His eyes dart around, an unsettling feeling spreading through his stomach when he doesn’t spot Hermione right away.

"No, but I know you brother, and I can see the self-doubt in your eyes." Ginny waggles a finger in Ron's direction. "She looks amazing, and you don't look too shabby yourself. You're going to have a great time, yeah?"

Ron releases a shaky breath, feeling the slightest bit of weight lifting off his shoulders from Ginny’s words. Surely his sister has spoken with Hermione. She wouldn’t be reassuring him if Hermione didn’t think this was a date, right?

"Yeah, we will. Thanks, Sis."

"Don't mention it,” Ginny grins before addressing Harry with an appreciative gaze up and down his body. “Ready, Potter?"

Harry nods and stumbles along the wooden floor as Ginny leads him towards the portrait hole. Over his shoulder, he calls out to Ron, "We'll meet you two there."

Ron gives a silent thumbs up before shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers and teetering back and forth on his heels. As he gazes up at the empty winding staircase, his impatience grows.

Hermione, where are you?

The ball starts promptly at eight o’clock, and the current time indicates that if they don’t make their way to the Great Hall soon, they will miss the opening dance. Not that he would mind not having a chance to bugger up the steps he’s tried hard to memorize since his practice session with Professor McGonagall.

He’s starting to wonder if Hermione’s decided to ditch him. Shaking his head, he mentally chides himself. He really needs to stop playing out scenarios in his head that may or may not happen. Breathing in through his nose for five seconds, he exhales the heavy breath out of his mouth, feeling the stress start to melt away.

Before Ron can dwell on his nervous jitters for a moment longer, the sound of heels clacking alert him that someone is descending the spiral tower.

Ron’s heart races in his chest from the anticipation, barely breathing as the footsteps grow closer. One studded heel-clad foot makes an appearance, showing off a considerable amount of bare leg that Ron has never had a view of in normal school robes, before Hermione fully reveals herself and steals all of the air right out of his lungs.

Wow.

Hermione steps out in a full-length evening gown that drapes to the floor with slits up the side, made of a silky burgundy fabric that looks so delicate that he fears it could tear at the slightest tug. The modest neckline is richly decorated with beaded jewels, with short sleeves that ruffle around her arms. Her hair is twisted into a plait that fashions her curls into a half updo, the rest of her waves tumbling around her face.

She is positively stunning.

Ron opens and closes his mouth several times. Any single one of his thoughts in his head would be appropriate for him to say as she waits on the bottom step for his reaction, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “Hi.”

“Hi.” She takes a step forward, then two, and the closer she gets, the more he believes that he didn’t prepare enough for this. Why oh why did he not ask for Fred or George’s advice on how to charm witches?

But, Hermione isn’t just any witch. She’s not going to be impressed by mediocre words or cheesy lines. Ron struggles to avoid making assumptions. He reminds himself that the only way he'll truly know what she's thinking or feeling is by asking her himself.

Silently, he lifts a hand in her direction, inviting her to take it. She accepts, and he immediately spots her palms trembling.

His voice is soft and raspy as he rubs his thumb across the back of her hand. “You’re shaking.”

Hermione folds her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes trained on their joined hands. “I’m a bit nervous.”

“Hey.” Ron’s whispered call causes Hermione to lift her gaze to meet his own. He does his best to give her an encouraging smile. “I bet my wand you’re not more nervous than I am.”

She lets out a shaky laugh. “Well, that’s a relief.”

Briefly letting go of her hand, he holds out his bent elbow. “You ready?”

“I am. Are you?”

“Absobloodylutely.”

The entire Great Hall is draped in decadence, with twinkling lights dangling from the starry black ceiling, glass vases filled with feathers and beads, and green ivy lining the walls around the room. The decorations really set the mood, promising an evening of socializing with other houses that is encompassed by music, dancing, and eating. Ron finds other students feasting on delicious finger foods, making his mouth water from the sight and smell.

This is the fanciest fucking event he’s ever been to. No pressure, he laughs inwardly to himself. It’s all nothing short of magical, and Ron has high hopes that tonight will be an unforgettable event.

Several other couples rotate across the floor in a counter-clockwise direction, dresses swishing behind the women as the men stumble over their own feet to keep up. As the current string of music comes to an instrumental end, thunderous applause fills his ears.

“Wow. I thought the Yule Ball was elaborate,” Ron jokes, already feeling the beads of sweat pooling on his forehead.

“Can we not talk about the Yule Ball tonight?” Hermione requests, rubbing one side of her arm as a blush forms on her cheeks.

“Oh. Right. M’sorry.” Ron imagines his gangly form is sticking out like a Hungarian Horntail, maintaining an awkward stance with his hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers, not yet willing his feet to move into the grand ballroom as other witches and wizards circle around them.

“What are you apologizing for?” Hermione inquires, raising an eyebrow with an expectant look on her face — a look that tells Ron that she requires nothing but honesty from him tonight.

Harry’s voice echoes in his mind. If you’re feeling nervous, chances are she’s feeling the same.

Blimey, his best mate is right. And Hermione deserves to know that she’s not alone in her self-induced pressure.

“I just feel like I’m already mucking this up and we haven’t even walked into the bloody Great Hall yet.”

A small smile forms on Hermione’s face as she leans over to place a tentative hand on his arm, sending tingles down his spine. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’ve seen your dancing, you’re not that rubbish.”

Ron laughs out loud, releasing some of the tension from his body. “You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you?”

“Come on, Ron.”

With Hermione tugging on his hand, he’s drifting through a sea of other couples, many who whisper and stare as they walk past. The rumbling in his belly makes him want to scope out the food to settle his uneasy stomach. It’s fairly safe to say that he expects to be fed at this event, but Hermione has other plans first.

His feet plant on the floor in the center of the room, arms straight down by his side as Hermione looks up at him expectantly. What should he do now?

"Just like we've practiced, right?" Hermione encourages, nodding her head at him as she smooths out the skirt on her dress.

"R-right."

As the soft flow of music begins, Hermione takes a step forward and bows. Ron mimics her movements, deciding that following her lead is the safest course of action. But in true Hermione form, she’s very difficult to grasp, and Ron isn’t sure what move he should make next when she waits for his guidance.

The sound of the traditional orchestra filters through his ears, and he glances around to see other men gliding across the dance floor with their partners in matching positions.

One hand on waist, one hand in hand.

Ron slips a firm hand on Hermione’s back, pulling her in close with a bit more vigor than he intended, hearing her breath hitch as their chests meet.

“M’sorry.” He winces as he stumbles back, feeling the redness on his cheeks as he clears his throat.

“It’s okay.” Hermione sends him a shy smile, and she helps him out with the next step by raising her hand. Ron intertwines their fingers together, hoping beyond all hope that his palms aren’t too sweaty.

They begin to sway back and forth, slow at first before taking wide sweeping steps in a circular motion. Ron’s heart accelerates as the beat of the song picks up the pace. He tries to ignore the several sets of eyes on them, focusing instead on a tiny freckle in the middle of Hermione’s forehead.

Although Ron feels like he’s towering over Hermione, he can still feel her hot breath on his cheek. The warmth between them grows more powerful by the minute, and Ron’s shoulders relax as the song progresses. It’s amazing how quickly his sluggish movements turn into refined, dare say, even graceful steps, allowing his body to maintain tune with the slow music.

Hermione remains quiet, exchanging soft smiles with him every so often, although she spends most of the dance scanning the floor for other couples as if she’s afraid of getting too close. He knows she’s just itching to establish more control over her surroundings.

For Ron, he’s aware of only Hermione, realizing that the space between their bodies is dwindling.

"Why did you ask me to the ball?"

Hermione’s words break Ron from his thoughts, echoing her inquiry from the day they waltzed in class. Why did you ask me to dance?

Unsure of the right words to respond with, he challenges back, “Why did you say yes?”

Hermione’s lips part, her brows furrowed with intent, and Ron just knows that her mind must be swirling with rapid fire thoughts.

“Don’t overthink this,” he murmurs, holding her hand just a little tighter.

A crestfallen look appears on her face and she drops her gaze to the floor. “Oh.”

Fuck.

“That’s not what I meant!” He quickly corrects. Hermione lifts up her head again, allowing Ron to breathe a sigh of relief when he sees a small bit of hope light up her face. “I just mean-”

Blast. What does he mean to say? Why is it that he can’t seem to hold a proper conversation with her? She’s his best friend, for Merlin’s sake.

“Ron, I’m your best friend,” Hermione gently coaxes. “Just talk to me.”

It’s bloody scary how she manages to read his mind like that. She’s looking up at him now — fucking hell, she’s so beautiful — with round, glassy chocolate brown eyes, filled with such implorable curiosity that it takes everything in him not to just snog her in the middle of the crowded ballroom, in front of the entire school.

He doesn’t reckon Hermione would appreciate that much —not without first receiving some sort of explanation, or providing any indication that she feels the same way.

Deciding that he’s not going to work up the courage he needs to spill his feelings out in public, Ron starts to silently walk backwards through the throng of people, pulling Hermione with him by their joined hands until they’re in a secluded spot just outside the grand entrance. Fairy lights flutter about the open lawn in front of the castle, providing just enough glow for him to still clearly see her face.

The chilly night air provides a small amount of reprieve from the heat of standing so close to the girl he gets so jittery around, although he starts to rethink his choice to head outside when Hermione instinctively covers her bare arms with her hands, her entire body trembling from the cold.

“Here, let me-” Ron goes to remove his suit jacket, but Hermione holds up a hand to stop him.

“No, that isn’t necessary. Just tell me what you wanted to say.” Her tone is very Hermione-like, stern and stubborn, and he would’ve laughed at her insistent independence if he weren’t so tongue-tied.

“It was too loud in there,” Ron says, fighting the labored breaths that leave his mouth in visible puffs of air. “I just—I wanted to-” He almost groans in frustration over his lack of finesse when it comes to admitting what he truly means, what he truly feels.

Hermione takes a step forward, and he can feel the warmth of her body as their arms brush together. “It’s just me, Ron.”

Her voice is so soft, almost velvety, and a lump of emotion gets caught in his throat. “No, it’s not.”

A loud exhale leaves Ron’s mouth and he lets his head fall back. “Do y’know how much I loathed you when I first met you?”

Shit, Ron, that probably wasn’t the right thing to say, but he paces the dimly lit path anyway, the words tumbling out of him before he can stop himself.

“I mean, you really did tie my wand in a knot. You were stubborn, bossy, frustrating…” He pauses to heave out another large breath, viewing the surprise flickering through Hermione’s eyes. “And I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

A quiet gasp escapes her lips and she opens her mouth to interject. Ron jumps in, knowing he’ll lose the momentum he finally has if he allows her the time.

“If I wasn’t an eleven-year-old git, I reckon I would’ve realized why I thought about you all the time sooner. But it wasn’t until I got to know you better, and discovered all the best parts of you — how smart, capable, kind, clever, brilliant you are — that I had to admit to myself that maybe I did like you. Maybe I wanted to be your friend.”

Ron checks in with Hermione again, who is listening intently to his words in such a stoic way that it’s irritating because he has no clue as to what she is thinking.

He presses on. “And then as we grew older, maybe I...maybe I wanted to be more than just your friend.”

Tears shimmer in Hermione’s eyes — oh, fuck, he’s not sure what he’ll do if she starts to cry — but instead she strides towards him with purpose, reaching a hand up to brush against his cheek. The action makes him flinch, although he relaxes into her palm, closing his eyes as he breathes in her scent. Wait, is she wearing...how hadn’t he noticed before? She’s wearing that unusual perfume he got her last Christmas!

“Ron Weasley…” Hermione hums, her mouth curving into a grin, “you are the most frustrating, but also most adorable man alive.” The tips of Ron’s ears burn red, not sure how to take her confusing compliment. “And I swear you sometimes forget that you are also smart, capable, kind…” She giggles through the watery tears that flood her eyes, “Clever and brilliant.”

“Got that speech memorized already, have ya?” Ron teases, his arms wrapping around her waist.

“It was a good speech.”

Ron’s wide grin fades, his heart now beating twice as fast in his chest as a charge of electricity builds between them. Hermione takes a step closer, circling her arms around his neck. One of Ron’s hands leaves her waist, instead trailing his fingers up her arm, letting the tips linger on her smooth skin. He’s cognizant of her fingers making similar movements, finding the hairs on the nape of his neck before threading through his copper strands.

Ron makes contact with her brown curls, pushing her hair back over her shoulders to free up the space between her shoulder blades and her neck for his hand to continue along its path.

He sucks in a breath when he sees her tongue dart out to moisten her own lips, and she makes the tiniest sound in the back of her throat that practically turns his brain to mush.

Before Ron takes the time to process it, he ducks his head, allowing his body to take control, tasting her breath as their lips inch closer and closer…

When their mouths finally fuse together, it’s nothing short of perfection. It’s like he’s drowning in a single kiss, more shocked than anything that he somehow knows exactly how to move his lips over hers, finding a familiar rhythm, a feeling of completeness that makes him think he might just explode from all these emotions he’s never experienced before.

The feeling of Hermione grinning against his mouth prompts him to lift her slightly off the ground, enthusiasm radiating through his bones.

Breathing finally becomes a necessity, and their lips slowly part, with Ron not able to resist planting one more soft kiss upon her lips before a crooked smile lights up his face.

“Bloody-”

“Don’t swear,” Hermione warns, although she too can’t hide the grin on her pleasantly flushed face.

Ron leans forward to embrace her, letting his nose make contact with her hair as he breathes her in. He can’t believe this is reality.

The music from the Great Hall can be faintly heard from the distance, and Ron rocks back and forth with Hermione in his arms, subconsciously swaying along with the song.

“Ron.”

She whispers his name and he lifts her head to see her smiling like she has a secret — a secret only he knows, fueling his excitement over their new romance even more. Hermione laces their fingers again, making Ron grateful for the contact.

“There are people looking at us.”

Only then does Ron’s brain register their surroundings. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Plenty of couples have also ventured off the dance floor. Some linger on the steps, Ginny and Harry included, who are both staring right at them with matching smirks. Ron decides he doesn’t care though —all he cares about is the witch in his arms, and how he can now confirm that it will be, in fact, an unforgettable evening.

#romioneweek2021 #romioneweek #romione #romione fanfic #romione fanficion #ronmione #ronmione fanfiction #ron weasley #hermione granger #ball #ron weasley x hermione granger #dance #first kiss #first date #ron x hermione #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #cheesyficwriter

113 notes · View notes

nanaminokanojo · 3 years ago

Text

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 8/8 [COMPLETED]

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight (final)

"Play the Game" Masterlist

You stood by the door, watching the chaos in your brother’s bedroom as he prepared for his wedding at sunset, waiting for everyone to leave so you can finally speak to him in private. He was, after all, the only one in the family you cared for enough to inform him of your decisions.

People always say you and Gojo were similar. However, those very things that made you alike also set you apart. Besides the platinum white hair and remarkable blue eyes you shared – unique even within the clan – being the absolute obvious, the similarities stopped there.

You siblings were supposed to be akin to one another, but the same things they loved about your brother were the same things people abhorred about you. You and your brother were both prodigies. He was richer than the whole clan, all assets combined being the successful businessman he was ever since he was in his teens. It was as freakish as it was awe-inspiring. You were an artist of great renown with your multi-million dollar pieces and the youngest to have been dubbed as a national artist when you were the same age as him.

But where he basked in fame and acclaim, your prominence was fueled by infamy. Gojo built an empire that served as one of the pillars of the local economy. You produced artistic pieces that inspired execration and controversy. Undeniably brilliant, yes, but absolutely contentious.

Your brother was kind. In fact, he was the best older brother one could ever ask for, and that was not lip service nor was it because of your biases towards him. You can never discount how caring he is to you, how hard he tries to make you happy and how he would go through lengths as to be the idiot just to satisfy your whims. He was just genuinely good-natured although he appeared somewhat insouciant. He had his evil streak, too, which is established in the clan, but his goodness radiated like a light that followed him wherever he went.

However, you have long accepted that your side which reflected Gojo in every way when you were younger had long died. Altruism wasn’t one of your strongest suits and you were only ever affectionate to people you had deep, deep fondness for. And that wasn’t even something common. Even your parents had always been the receiving end of your lackadaisical attitude.

He attracted people, you repelled them. Being surrounded by the good people he called friends was a testament to that no matter how vexing his personality was, and more people want to be near him. Apart from your three friends, you didn't make any more and your school life sucked because majority of your classmates hated you. For what, you didn't know. You don’t think you will ever understand.

It was your seven-year gap that made all the difference, you liked to think. It was much easier to swallow than the concept of the whole cosmos conspiring to create two creatures to be equals but of the opposite nature. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be that way, but you will always be the one looking up to him regardless if you did not choose the same path as his; regardless of whether there were no comparisons with what either of you endeavored to do.

And above everything else, you loved Satoru very much.

“Got a minute?” You began, standing before him in front of the mirror. It was rather annoying watching him struggle with the cufflinks, and you didn’t think he would manage to fix the bowtie still hanging loosely on his neck. Thus, you thought of taking charge. “Give it here.”

Gojo was surprised, but he was nonetheless happy. He wore his heart on his sleeve after all, and you could only guess it was that vulnerability he risked showing that attracted people to him. You have only learned the intricacies of such a matter recently, something you had to agree with since it all made perfect sense.

“Thank you,” he said, tilting his head to the side, watching you work on his cuffs.

“You’re really getting married, huh?” you began, feeling yourself start to falter, but you have decided. You may not have gotten him the best wedding gift materially speaking, but you swore to let him in on what was going on with you, to be honest with him like you hadn’t been for the longest time. “Who would have known?”

“Am I finally getting that emotional pre-wedding sibling talk?” he asked, walking towards the seats by the window and looking out into the garden.

“You’re getting married, not being sent away to prison. I don’t even understand why this happens during weddings,” you quipped, sighing. “But I guess you could call it that.”

He smiled at you, patting the space beside him. You did as you were told, assuming the spot, but also looking out the window, watching as the organizers made finishing touches to the garden below. No expense was spared to make the occasion as perfect as it could get. You couldn’t argue with it. Gojo deserved the best, and to him, Utahime did, too.

“I’m waiting,” he said, breaking the silence that had befallen the room. “You’ve been pacing before the door for god knows how long when you should have been getting ready.”

“I got ready much faster than you did.”

“And you look beautiful.” He tilted his head to the side, eyeing you appreciatively. “Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re all grown up. And what a beautiful woman you’ve become.”

You smirked. “You’re looking at your mirror image after all.”

“Well, there’s that, of course.” He laughed slightly. “But I’m not just saying that because we’re basically the same person. You really are beautiful, baby sis.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, opting for it instead of his usual choice of mussing your hair since it has already been styled for the wedding.

You just shook your head. “Thank you, Satoru.”

“So, what did you want to talk about exactly?”

“The other day…” Your voice trailed off, thinking about what to say. It wasn’t that way before between you and your brother. He was always the easiest person to talk to, always open minded and optimistic about matters. But now that you were going to discuss something that he had vocally opposed, you were a bit scared of saying anything. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t do Nanami justice if you decided to hold back now, considering that he was more than ready to speak to your brother.

You’ve both initially decided to sit Gojo down and tell him about your decisions together, but you informed Nanami earlier in the day that you needed to have a proper conversation with him first. It wasn’t just your choice to be with Nanami that was the matter, and you wanted to get things straightened out with Gojo before he gets married.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“You said I don’t talk enough to you; that I don’t tell you things anymore.”

Gojo slowly nodded.

You breathed out. “Things changed. We can’t deny that. I grew up and you…well, you’ve decided you want to spend your life with Iori and build your own family.” Your lips curled up awkwardly as you tried to keep your emotions at bay. It was new territory having such talks with him when you’re used to your easy-going dynamic with him. “I’m scared, too. I mean, I can’t just bother you anytime anymore cause you’ll have your wife and eventually children to pay attention to and prioritize.”

He was taken aback by what you said, immediately drawing closer. “What are you saying, Y/N? You’re my sister. Nothing will change –”

“Our bond will not change, dude, but you have to admit that what I’m saying is true.” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. You beamed at the fact that your fingers were structured in the same tapered manner as his. Even the shape of your fingernails were the same, just that his hands were bigger than your delicate ones. “What I’m saying is that even if you need to do that, I will be fine.”

“Of course, you will be. You’re my sister, and above that, you are your own person, and you’re stronger than you think. You’ve been handling things on your own for as long as I can remember.” He pouted, trying to act cute with you. “It’s disappointing, to be honest, because you’ve never really given me the chance to play my role in your life because you’re always the mature one.”

You were confused now. “What are you on about? You’re my only brother, but I can’t imagine anyone else holding that position in my life. You’re the best I could have asked for. I’ve always looked up to you. You’re my role model.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. The fuck are you so surprised for?” You snickered. “That aside, if you felt like I’ve been leaving you out, that’s not the intention at all. I always want you to be the first one to know what’s going on with my life…”

He clucked his tongue. “I understand you’re not doing it on purpose, kid. I’m just worried that you didn’t think I’m worth telling anything because, well, I’m not exactly a proper adult, am I?”

“You’re realizing that now that you’re about to get married?” you taunted him, jabbing your thumb towards the direction of the garden. “Should I tell Iori to call this whole thing off?”

He waved you aside. “Hey, don’t say that!”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Anyway, there’s something I wanted to tell you for a while now.”

“How long is a while, exactly?”

“Years and years.” You flashed him a rueful smile. “I just couldn’t figure out how to tell you because I am not exactly sure how you feel about it although you’ve told me many times you were opposed to it. What I’m saying it that, I know that fact, but it’s the motivation behind it that is beyond my knowledge.”

Gojo’s eyes rounded, realizing what you were saying. “Are you…”

You nodded. “Yes, I am talking about Kento.”

He just blinked and stood up, pacing around in front of you for a while that you had to stop him from doing it. He had such a bad habit of doing that when he is in deep thought, and always in front of you, too. He was making you dizzy.

You seized him by the wrist. “Please say something.”

“I…”

“Why are you opposed to it?”

He stopped pacing and faced you, taking you by the shoulders, his eyes starting to water. “Y/N…”

“Oh no, are you gonna cry?”

He furiously blinked his tears back, the action almost comical if it weren’t for the serious look on his face. “Because you are my little sister. You think it will be easy for me to just hand you over to anyone? My friends aren’t exceptions to that although I trust them with everything that I have. I will always, always worry about you when it comes to that matter because I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to be taken advantage of, and I don’t want to have to break either Suguru or Kento’s bones when the time comes.”

“I can manage the latter on my own.” You sighed, finding your resolve strengthening. “But like you said, I’m this old now. I want you to understand that I know what I am doing and I am confident about my decisions. Honestly, I didn’t want to talk about this as if I am asking for your permission. This is what I meant when I said I will be fine. I am not saying you don’t have a say in my life, but I am telling you this time because I want you to know before anyone else does.”

“Suguru doesn’t know?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

“Don’t be petty. I tell him things I can’t tell you just like you tell him things you can’t tell me,” but you nodded anyway. “He doesn’t know yet…I think.”

“So…you and Kento…”

You nodded again. “I’m in love with him, Satoru. And he feels the same way.”

“You are?” His expressions softened, hugging you to him. “You’ve grown. Really grown.”

You returned the gesture, holding onto him tight. “Please don’t ever think that I am leaving you out of my life because I always want to tell you everything.”

Just then, he pulled back, his brows furrowing while his eyes narrowed at you. “So, why isn’t he the one telling me this? Where is that bastard?”

You shrugged. “He wants to be here. Trust me. I just asked him if I could talk to you first because I have issues to resolve with you apart from my relationship with him.”

Gojo exhaled, nodding in understanding. “I understand, Y/N. But are you certain?”

“Yes. I’m scared of hurting him, but I’ll do my best, I guess.”

“Hmm, yeah. Maybe you should tone down on your mischief, too. I don’t want him dying of stress because of you. He’s still precious to me.”

At that, you laughed. “I know.”

He poked you on the cheek. “Alright then. If that’s what makes you happy, I won’t stand in your way. You have my blessing.” His teeth clenched then. “But I’m still going to have to talk to him man to man in case he thinks he’s off the hook.”

“Worry about your wedding first,” you jibed.

“I almost forgot about that.”

“I’m telling Iori.”

He shook his head, feigning panic. “Don’t.”

You both ended up laughing, joking about the guests who were arriving at the garden, poking fun at the relatives you both detested but had no choice but to invite. Just like that, you were back to how it used to be, easily conversing and sharing the same sentiments about things and same penchant for devilry.

Soon, the organizer came to his room, informing him that he needed to go to the garden to prepare. You reached up and fixed his tie and jacket for him, holding him at arm’s length to appreciate your handiwork. “You’re all set.”

“Thank you.” He smiled wide but you saw the nervousness in his eyes. “I’m getting married!”

“You are.”

“I’m more anxious about seeing Kento after what you told me,” he stated dramatically.

You eyed him witheringly. “Shut up and pull yourself together.”

He snickered then. “Kidding. Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

The two of you walk to the garden, your arm around his. He stood at the spot just by the last row of seats with you, grinning at you when he saw you looking at Nanami who was already dutifully standing on his spot, speaking to Geto.

“Concentrate on your vows, yeah?” you told your brother.

“I’m off.”

“In case we don’t get to talk before you leave for your honeymoon,” you began, “Just know that I am waiting for the speedy arrival of my nieces and nephews.”

Gojo laughed at that, but nodded anyway and said, “I’ll do a good job, I promise.”

“And Satoru?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you.”

“I know, kid. I know.” He turned on his heels and walked towards his place at the front pews while you watched, his steps leading you towards the very man you would want to see standing there when the time comes, his halo of golden locks bright under the setting sun but you knew your future with him would be even more brilliant.

The familiar bars of Johann Pachelbel’s “Canon” began to play in a modified, slowed-down wedding version made especially for Gojo and Utahime’s wedding, played on the harp, piano and violin, cueing the beginning to the entrance of the bridal entourage. It began with the entrance of the flower girls who scattered petals of different flowers on the white carpet that lined the long aisle.

Arches and bouquets of flowers festooned the garden, with gossamer cloth hanging about, interlaced with live wisteria that hung down from the canopy along with fairy lights that progressively turned on as the sky grew darker. White and pink dominated the color palette as Utahime had wished and the same goes for the reception area. It was probably one of the most beautiful wedding setups Nanami has ever seen.

But his eyes weren’t on the ornaments. They were trained on the end of the walled garden, waiting for your ascent on the marble steps where the white carpet extended, the march made more dramatic by the organizers by opting for a meandering aisle instead of the traditional, straight walkway for the bride. And it did achieve the desired effect when you finally emerged from the steps and into view.

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips upon finally seeing you clad in that familiar faded rose gown he had first seen being fitted on you to perfection. He kissed you while you wore that very article of clothing not long ago at the couturier’s shop, and though he thought back then that he has never seen anything more beautiful, he was amazed at the fact that you looked even more gorgeous in it as you glided towards the front.

He loved you so much it hurts, and although you’ve both professed your deep affections for one another and decided to take things head on together, he still felt like he was in the middle of a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. You came closer, and once more, he was back at the semi-outdoor ballroom the first day he came that week, beholding the goddess that was you but seemingly in a different light – brighter this time, overwhelming him to the point that he had to remind himself how to breathe when you finally looked his way and beamed unabashedly, your affections towards him unmasked, real and not under the guise of a game.

“Kento,” he heard Gojo say softly just then, the man’s blue eyes furtively glancing at him.

“Yes?” he answered in hushed tones.

“Hurt my baby sister and I’ll have your severed head hung by the gates of the estate,” he said. “Are we clear about that?”

Geto snickered, concealing it by facing the other way.

“Understood,” Nanami said seriously. “I’m counting on it.”

When you were near enough, you smiled at your brother and Geto before turning your attention to Nanami. You winked at him as you passed by before turning towards your spot opposite them across the aisle, your attention trained towards the point where you came from.

He couldn’t stop looking at you, not even when he felt Gojo hold onto his arm, squeezing tight as Utahime came into view. He didn’t mean to be insulting to his friends. She was beautiful in her wedding gown and he couldn’t help but be moved by the loving look that your brother had on his face as he watched his wife-to-be come closer, guided by her father who will give her away as the sun set. It was poetic. A new beginning after a beautiful end. He probably looked the same whenever his eyes would find you.

The ceremony carried on as everyone sat down, waiting for the couple to exchange their ‘I do’s.’ their vows, rings and the much-awaited kiss. It was making him emotional, thinking of the time when he himself would draw your veil and get to claim you as his for life in front of everyone you both loved and cared about. He couldn’t wait for it, and he may be getting ahead of himself, but he wanted what Gojo and Utahime had with you.

As the minister announced the pair man and wife, everyone applauded and cheered for them. He did so, too, chuckling when Geto whistled loudly, being his cheeky self. Just then, he nudged Nanami on the side, grinning impudently.

“Is it safe to assume you’re next?” he queried in the same manner.

Nanami rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Who knows? Someone might actually steal your heart in the next months and we’ll be seeing you crying as you watch your bride walk towards you by next year.”

Geto snickered at that. “Yeah, right. You looked like you wanted to jump Y/N and replace Satoru and Iori at the altar all this time.”

“Who wants to replace my brother and sister-in-law at the altar?” they heard you say, appearing out of nowhere, your head tilted to the side as you shifted your blue orbs between the two males, but before either of them could answer, you linked your arm with Nanami who smiled down at you blissfully. You returned the gesture, your cheeks blushing prettily under the twinkling lights overhead.

“I see you’ve figured things out.” Geto smirked, patting Nanami on the back just as Shoko came into view, taking the former by the arm, claiming she needed a smoke. She pulled him away, leaving you and Nanami to yourselves, winking as they walked away.

“So, you told him?” you asked, cocking your head towards the wide lawn where the pergolas were, built on three sides of the square and closed by an elevated area for the band, all surrounding a dance floor under a huge, white tent above, also adorned with thousands of lights. It was your design, solely for the wedding reception and a form of gift to the newlyweds.

“Satoru did indirectly when he said he’ll have my head hung at the gates of Gojo Manor if I hurt you.” He shook his head, laughing slightly. “Bastard had the gall to laugh at me, too.”

“He nearly cried when I told him earlier,” you said, regaling him with how your conversation with Gojo went. “He trusts you and is actually afraid I’ll hurt you, too.”

He shook his head. “It’s all part of the process, isn’t it?”

“Mhmm.”

“We’ll take it head on.” He held your hand, twining your fingers together.

You nodded, squeezing his larger hand. “We will.”

Just then, your friends emerged from the reception area with Noabara taking the lead, mischief drawn all over her face as she approached you. “I took care of the sitting arrangement,” she said to you then turned to Nanami. “Take care of Y/N. Make her cry and –”

“You’ll have my head?” Nanami supplemented but Nobara shook her head. “I’ll tan your hide. Satoru gets your head apparently.”

At that, Nanami laughed, nodding nonetheless. But to your surprise, she also turned her attention to you, holding you by the shoulders. “Are you still playing?”

“Nope.” You pressed your lips together, shaking your head slowly.

She smiled then. “Good.” She glanced at Nanami. “You’ve got you a good one here.”

“I know.”

They left you alone after that much to his relief, but then you said, “Wanna play a game?”

His eyes rounded and he felt tension again once he heard you say those familiar words, always the preamble to every single mischievous stunt you’ve ever pulled on everyone including him. He paused and looked at you. “I thought no more games?”

You smirked at him. “One more won’t hurt.”

He sighed, giving in. “You’re going to be the death of me, I swear to god.”

“So, are you in?”

“When did I ever say no to you?”

You giggled. “Great.”

“What is it about this time?” he asked, indulging you.

“Whoever gets a rise out of Satoru first wins.”

“The stakes?”

You just winked suggestively at him.

You forfeited. For the first time, you lost in your own game. It counted – albeit momentary – because you initiated the game…said the very words that began everything that paved the way to the result you’ve always wanted. But you did not really consider it a loss when for the long run, you’ve gained the very person you’d always gladly lose to at any given time.

After you father offered a toast for the newlyweds, the speeches began, starting with Utahime’s parents then yours, eventually moving on to you, then the bride and groom’s shared close friends. Geto had been rather irreverent as usual, pointing out the things that both Gojo and Utahime supposedly disliked from one another yet brought them closer, making everyone laugh when Shoko came up the stage and began her speech, saying, “Opposites do attract.”

You sat on your table with Nanami, both of you waiting for your turns. He was next in line after Shoko, smirking at you as he stood up and walked towards the platform and began his piece by congratulating Gojo, “for landing a very gracious woman who has the most enduring patience I have ever known in all mankind, given the grief that Ieiri, Suguru and I had to endure before Iori came to his life.”

He continued on with his witty address, pretty much reflecting what Suguru said and entertaining the crowd enough when he started to express his gratitude. “While I know that this changes nothing between us as the best of friends – including your nature that tested one’s forbearance – I would like to say thank you for many things. Thank you because you are, well, you…” He did a dramatic eye roll.

The guests laughed.

“Thank you because you are a real person who offered friendship to quiet, boring old me,” he said, droning on about the things he appreciated about the couple before saying the things he was thankful to Gojo about. “And thank you, because without you, without our friendship, I wouldn’t have met the very person I also want to walk this earth with for the rest of my life.”

You would have fallen off your seat when Megumi playfully nudged you if it weren’t for Yuuji who also held onto your shoulders from behind your seat, shaking you excitedly.

“If it weren’t for one Gojo Satoru, I wouldn’t have met Y/N.”

You felt all eyes turn towards you, including your parents and your brother, heat suffusing your cheeks as you tried hard to keep yourself from smiling like an idiot for everyone to see. Nanami has outdone you this time, and you knew you didn’t have a chance to go against that when he had so publicly expressed how he felt about you.

“I love her with everything that I am,” he continued, “and I will continue to do so even without your threat to behead me.” He raised his glass. “To Iori and Satoru. May you have the happiest, most prosperous married life from today and for always.”

Geto whistled loudly while the guests applauded. You also stood up, clapping your hands slowly as you shook your head. You’ve lost big time, backed by the fact that your brother stood up raising his glass as he said, “I couldn’t have wished for a better future brother-in-law.” He then looked at you, smiling fondly.

Nanami got Gojo to state his approval for everyone to hear. You can’t win against that even if you nearly made the latter cry.

And now, you were just happy to be in Nanami’s arms as he swayed you both to the tune the jazz band was playing, your arms hanging around his shoulders and your fingers playing with the hair at the base of his head while he held you against him by the waist.

“So?” Nanami began. “How’s that for a final game?”

“Not bad,” you acceded, smirking at him. “I’ll admit defeat.”

“Damn right, you are.” He smiled down at you, his dark eyes reflecting the muted, xanthic lights that surrounded you. “I have a couple of things I’d want you to do for me, by the way.”

You nodded slowly, keeping a straight face at the mention of his prize. “Rules are rules.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “Then again, you haven’t told me what you wanted when you won a week ago.”

You grinned, burying your face on his chest, listening to the faint sound of his heart. “But I did get what I want.”

“And that is?”

You met his gaze from under your lashes. “You,” you stated in full confidence.

Nanami nodded, suppressing a smile. “If you say so.”

“I wouldn’t wish for anything else.” You pulled him towards you so you could peck him on the mouth. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know what for, but as always, anything for you.”

You chuckled at that. Knowing him, he’ll make good on his words for sure, so much so that you didn’t feel the least bit of worry where your future with him was concerned. “You have to learn how to say no to me.”

“I guess, but since I won, have I finally made it to the list of people you don’t mess with?” he asked.

“As promised, yes.”

“No more games?”

“No more games,” you repeated. “Although I have to say it keeps things interesting between us. Don’t you think so?”

You both dissolved in laughter, the merry mingling of your voices coming to a standstill when he bent down and cupped your cheeks, running his thumb over your cheek before staking his claim on your lips while you returned the gesture in kind, locked in each other’s arms, glad you both played the game. And won.

-THE END-

I would like to say thank you to everyone who read this and kept up with my erratic updating. It's been a good 6 weeks. Thanks!

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

71 notes · View notes

softboywriting · 4 years ago

Text

Mi Alma | Santiago “Pope” Garcia

Summary: After years of tension, you and Santiago finally get together at your best friend’s wedding. [Film: Triple Frontier] [Post-Film] [Flirting] [Making Out]

Word Count: 6.7k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Frankie and Tiia's wedding is unlike any other you've been to, and you've been to a few. You're the last of your friends to get married, if it ever happens. You're picky with your men, have high standards. It's fine. You don't mind being alone for a while. Drama and games are not in the cards for you so you won't settle for someone. But this isn't about you and your love life, or so you think.

The couple was never quite normal. Frankie coming from a Catholic upbringing and since shunning it to become his own man and follow his heart. Tiia has always been a free spirit and very much into the unknown and world around her. They make an interesting yet perfect match and their wedding is no run of the mill church ceremony with a bunch of people in pews for hours on end. No. They have quite the opposite.

For starters the wedding is outdoors, a forested area just behind the house Frankie and Tiia bought last year. It's beautiful, the trees in full bloom, greenery as far as the eye can see. There wasn't a ton of prep to be done for the ceremony, just setting up chairs and arranging flowers among the natural foliage. Orange and yellow, those are Tiia's colors. Roses, carnations, peonies, you name it. She took everything the florist could get her in those colors. Frankie didn't care, he said he would love anything she loves. There is an arch made of wood that a friend of yours specially crafted just for the happy couple. It's their wedding gift from him, as Tiia will put it in her garden after the ceremony.

The day Tiia showed you her dress you knew that the wedding would be magical. It's non traditional of course, very Greek goddess meets fairy queen. Draped white and cream fabric, gold accents, braided embellishments. It's incredible and she looks completely stunning in it. It isn't until the day of the wedding that you see her veil, natural colored faux antlers made into a crown like setting atop her head. She is beautiful.

You find yourself on the day of the wedding getting ready and waiting for the ceremony to start. You've not been told who you are to walk with. Tiia said she didn't tell any of the bridesmaids who they're walking with because she didn't want to cause any problems. Honestly you're not sure what that means, you only know that your friend Caiti would have a problem if she was paired up with Benny because of a past relationship. You check your reflection in the small mirror decor beside the door you're meant to go out. You look fine. Good. Great actually. You twist your finger around a loose bit of hair by your temple and smooth the top of the dress that matches Tiia's flowy one. Damn good.

"You're up." Says Tiia's brother, opening the patio doors for you.

You take a deep breath, pull up the hem of your dress and step out. The plan is that you meet your groomsman at the end of the wrap around deck and you walk to the forest together. You can't help but wonder who it will be. Any of the guys would be great, you're familiar with them all. Benny? He is single currently. Will? No, his fiance is in the bridal party. Frankie's brother? Maybe but...no. Santiago. Oh Lord have mercy. If it's Santiago you're going to have to reach deep into yourself and find some inner calm. Every time the two of you are together with the crew it's like fire. It is undeniable the way you connect but you have never- shit.

At the end of the deck is Santiago. He looks insanely...tempting. You say a prayer to any force listening. Did he have to look so good? Tailored slacks, a deep blue button down, no tie and sleeve rolled up, even the watch on his wrist is sexy. Fucking hell you could just turn around and run back into the house. Demand another partner.

"Hermosa..." Santiago mutters as you approach.

"What's that?"

Santiago snaps his eyes to yours and smiles warmly. "Nothing, I was just thinking out loud." He offers his arm and you take it.

"What does that mean? Hermosa?"

He leads you carefully down the steps into the grass. "It means beautiful."

"Oh...oh!" You flush, heat rising from your chest. "Thank you."

Santiago chuckles softly and lifts your hand to kiss it. "Every woman should be told they look beautiful."

"You're a sweet talker today."

"I've had a drink or two. Frankie and I had a talk before the wedding, pre marital nerves."

"I can't imagine. I've never gotten that far into a relationship."

Santiago's eyes meet yours as you glance over to gauge his reaction. He raises his eyebrows and you raise yours. It's always like this. Silent conversations. They're louder than any words you've ever exchanged. "Are you excited for Tiia?"

"Through the roof. She hasn't shut up about Frankie since they met. I'm glad she's found her person."

"Me too." He stops as you arrive at the archway. "You never know when you'll meet the right person."

"Yeah, I guess so."

He steps away, touch lingering on your hand as he parts. "Who knows, maybe you've already met them."

You look at him and he says nothing more, just gives a little smile. He knows exactly what he's doing. Fueling the fire. That's it. This wedding, you're getting Santiago Garcia.

______________________

The entire ceremony you stared at each other and it is unlike ever before, there was no conversation in your eyes. It was just a game of who could out stare who. Until Frankie began reading his vows, then Santiago's gaze changed. It flicked between you and Frankie, soft and loving.

There were tears, actual tears when Frankie began to talk about how he felt about Tiia and their bond. All of the guys were crying, proud of their best friend to be so happy and excited to take this step in his life. But Santiago...he couldn't look away from you. You try not to look away from Tiia and Frankie, knowing they deserve your undivided attention and not Santiago. It's hard. Santiago's eyes...they're undeniable, irresistible, commanding. He is making it hard not to think about what it would be like to be in your friends shoes, or lack thereof because she is actually barefoot under that dress. What would a wedding with Santiago look like? A beautiful tailored suit, beard grown out a bit for sure, messy curls, bowtie or regular tie. Hmm. And your dress, white or blush? Formal or fun? You've never thought about your own wedding and yet here you are just-

You snap out of your dream world when the guests begin to clap, the ceremony is over. You raise your hands and clap, smiling at your friends. Santiago gestures for you to join him as the bride and groom walk back down the path. You're meant to follow after, being in the wedding party and all.

Santiago's hand slides across your lower back the moment you're in reach. You swear you can feel your skin tingle all the way up to the back of your neck. "That was incredible."

"It was a very pretty ceremony."

"Are you feeling well?"

You frown and look at him, he raises his eyebrows. "Yes? Do I look ill?"

He shakes his head. "Not in the slightest. You looked...distracted."

"Can't say I wasn't."

Santiago gives a soft knowing hum in response and nothing more. Kindling. He's throwing kindling into this fire now. The son of a bitch. No. You would never call him that. He's too good. "Ride with me?" He says and you realize you've walked together to the front of the house where everyone is parked.

"I-...Benny."

"Benny?"

"I promised Benny I'd ride with him. I'm supposed to be his DD tonight and care for his truck should he get a little out of hand."

Santiago smiles softly. "I see. I'll meet you at the hall then?"

You nod.

He lays a hand on your cheek and presses a kiss to the opposite side. "Drive safe."

Your heart threatens to explode and you're stuck standing there like a deer in headlights. There is no way you're going to survive this wedding.

_____________________

The reception is when things really kick off, it usually is though isn't it. The reception is held at a party rental hall in town, their house not being ready for so many guests and a large dinner and dancing. You ride with Benny, having to just take a moment and figure out what your next move is with Santiago.

"You and Pope, huh?" Benny says, looking over at you. "When's that happening?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh come on anyone with eyes could see you two tryin’ to undress each other up there."

You stifle a noise of protest because you know that if you make a scene about it then Benny will be even nosier. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah alright sweetheart." Benny laughs to himself, a quick breathy little chuckle. "If a girl looked at me like that for an hour, we'd be kicking boots in the back of this truck right now."

"You're gross Benny."

"Never said I wasn't." He grins and does a little tongue click. "Pope is a good man, the best I know. Give'em a chance."

"Sure, thanks for the pep talk Benny."

"Anytime sweetheart."

Once you arrive at the reception you immediately run into Santiago. No, literally you smack into him when you step in the doors. He seemed to be on his way outside as you were going in. His familiar spicy cologne flls your nose and your eyes cross for a moment. You know it's him before he speaks, before you see his face.

His hand comes up, steadying you with it on your back. "Easy there, honey."

Honey. Fuck. You're so fucked. "Sorry, I was just trying to go in."

"Mmm. I forgot my phone in the car, I'll be back."

"I'll be seated?" You say awkwardly.

He chuckles and steps away from you. "Go on, don't wait for me."

"I wasn't going to?" You step in and look around for your table. It should be near the front. You look for the names and sure enough there you are right next to... Santiago. "Great."

"Is something wrong?"

You jump and Will chuckles. "No, I'm fine."

"Where'd Pope go?"

"His phone."

Will nods. "Have you seen Benny?"

You shrug. "We drove together but I've no idea where he went. Check the bar?"

"I checked there, I bet he's out back." Will sighs and heads for the emergency exit door that's propped open at the far end of the building.

You take a seat and Santiago returns, sliding behind you and taking his seat next to you. The chairs are close, the table being a little small for the amount of people seated at it. You can feel Santiago's warmth, his scent filling your nose. Oh how you love that cologne. It's one of two he's worn since you met and this one just nails it right on the head. If you knew the brand you would buy it and drown yourself in it.

His hand comes down on your thigh and you feel like the world has stopped and begun to burn around you. It is absolutely no mistake, he knows what he's doing. His fingers flex against the loose fabric of the dress and it falls open a bit along the side split, exposing your skin beneath.

Will stands from the end of your table and taps his glass a few times. He is going to make a speech. Of course, it's Will and he is the best speech giver you've ever met. You try to distract yourself, wondering how many wedding speeches he has given. If you ask him he will know. If you ask him how many of anything he has or does he will know. You smile to yourself, eyes flicking to Santiago. Will is the reason any of this is happening. If he hadn't given Santiago the coordinates to the ravine with Lorea's money, Santiago would have never gone after it, never gifted the wedding fund to Tiia and Frankie.

Santiago's hand shifts and you're acutely aware of its position further up your leg, his pinky finger brushing your tender inner thigh. Should you tell him to stop? He didn't ask to touch you, and you didn't tell him yes or no. Did he need to ask though? Honestly you don't mind aside from the fact that it's driving you crazy. He must know what he is doing to you, how you feel. He has always been physically affectionate with everyone, hugging, cheek kisses, hands on arms and backs. His love language is very obviously touching.

Will begins to wrap up, and you raise your glass with everyone else to toast. Santiago grabs his glass with his non dominant hand, not letting your thigh go. "To many years of love, happiness and joy. Mr. and Mrs. Morales!"

"I'm up next." Santiago says, giving you a squeeze that makes your stomach jump.

You watch him stand and he taps his glass. You have no idea why but your heart is pounding in your chest. His ass is in perfect view, his thighs...oh his thighs. You decide to get a little retribution for the thigh touching and you lay your hand on the back of his leg, just above the bend of his knee. It's not much, just a gentle touch and nowhere near sexual. You're sure he's burning up though.

"Tiia, the day Frankie met you I knew his fate was sealed. I had not once seen my brother so engrossed in a woman than when he talked about you. When you and I finally met, and I saw that red hair of yours, I knew there was something special. Hermana, eres fuego. You have made Frankie a better man, a calmer and more gentle man. Without you I don't know where he would be." Santiago raises his glass higher. "I hope to find a love like yours someday. Cheers to new family, life and a beautiful union!"

Your hand falls from his leg as he sits down and he slides his back over your thigh. "That was a nice speech," you whisper.

"Thank you. I know it wasn't nearly as long and detailed as Will's but I tried." He swipes his thumb back and forth. "Even if I had a little bit of a distraction."

You smile and give him an innocent look.

"Malo..." He mutters softly and tears his gaze from yours to Benny who's standing at the table opposite.

You reach out and run your hand over his shoulder, settling with it on the back of his neck. Your fingers slip into the curls there and he lets out a subtle shaky breath that you don't miss for a second. Two can participate in his game of touches and you're going to play hardball.

Benny makes his speech, short but sweet and meaningful. Tom's wife is up next. Before she stands you make eye contact with Tiia. You could feel her stare before you caught it. She gives a little smirk.

"Honey, you're going to make me fall asleep." Santiago whispers, ducking his head close to you after a minute or two.

"That's not quite my goal."

He slips his hand down your inner thigh and you feel heat swell between your legs. "What is your goal?"

"What is your goal, Santiago."

"I-"

"Thank you everyone for coming and for your well wishes. It means the world to Tiia and I that we're surrounded by so much love." Frankie says and everyone cheers softly. "Let's have dinner and cake!"

"Bride or groom?" Santiago asks, close to your ear.

"H-Huh?"

"The cakes. Bride or groom's cake?" He points to the table with the two cakes on it. "I'll get you a piece."

You try to remember what kind they both are but you're drawing a blank. All you can focus on is Santiago and you feel bad. This day should be about your friends and here you are wetting your fucking pants for Santiago Garcia. Christ.

"Honey?" He purrs and your mouth falls open as he squeezes your thigh. "I'll get one of each."

"Y-yeah. "

Santiago stands and leaves the table. The lack of heat on your leg is a shock. You're still burning up but it's nowhere near as bad as when he's close. Tiia comes over and leans against your table, she grins knowingly at you.

"How's it going over here?"

"Fine? Should it not be?"

"Is he being nice?"

"Santi?"

You flush and lean your head into your hand. "Santiago. Yes, he's being nice. Why? He is always a sweetheart."

Santiago returns with two plates of cake and sets them on the table. He grabs Tiia's cheek and gives her a kiss to the temple. "Hermana."

"Problema." Tiia giggles and Santiago rolls his eyes.

"I am not trouble." He takes his seat beside you and gives a pointed look at Frankie nearby laughing with Will and Benny. "Hay problema."

Tiia pushes Santiago's head and he laughs. "Frankie is not trouble! He's a good boy."

"Mmmm." Santiago says, raising his eyebrows. "Good boys don't have the most fun." He catches your gaze and winks.

"You're insufferable. Enjoy the cake, lovely." Tiia says to you and heads off to meet her new husband.

Santiago dips his fork into the slice of white and yellow frosted cake, the bride's cake, and brings it up to your lips. "Try it?"

"I can feed myself," you giggle and he bumps the frosted bit against your lips. You open and take the cake in. It's delicious and you remember now. It's an apple spiced white cake with caramel cream center.

"Good?" He asks, cutting a bit for himself. "Oh wow that's amazing."

You nod and reach for your own fork but Santiago pushes it away. "Hey-"

"I got it." He smirks, cutting a slice of the groom's cake. Chocolate with butter rum filling. "Open up."

"Give me my fork, Santiago."

He shakes his head and you reach for it. He knocks your hand away and holds your wrist loosely. "Ah, I said open up."

"Santi..."

His eyes go darker than you've ever seen and you imagine they must be lust filled to be so heavy. "Open up." He says once more, but this time with more authority.

You open your mouth obediently and he presses the fork down gently to your tongue as he slides it out. "Mmmm."

"Better than the last one?" He asks, cutting another piece and holding it up for you. You take it in as well and he smiles.

This is far too intimate. What the fuck are you doing? You're not even together, you're not dating, neither of you have explicitly said this was happening. Not to mention you're at your friend's wedding, in front of people and he's... he's driving you insane.

"Excuse me." You mutter softly, pushing away from the table and leaving a very confused Santiago behind. You head for the emergency exit and take a deep breath of the cool spring air as you step outside. You need to breathe.

___________________

Minutes tick by as you sit on the fence post that blocks a patio area from the parking lot. You figured Santiago would have come for you by now, but you didn't expect it. He's too sweet to impede upon your personal space when he knows you definitely needed it because of his actions. Footsteps behind you draw your attention away from the passing traffic on the road nearby. It's Will.

"What're you doing out here all alone?"

"Getting some fresh air."

"I can understand that." Will takes a seat next to you. "I saw you head out here earlier. I figured I'd give you a little bit before coming to check on you."

"Thanks. Am I missing anything?"

"Tiia is going to throw the bouquet soon. Do you want to catch it?"

You laugh softly to yourself. Do you want to? Do you want to be the next friend to marry? You're the only one not married besides Benny. The rest of the guests are family or friends who are married. "Maybe Benny should give it a try."

Will snorts and you laugh at the sound. "You'd need tempered steel to tie that man down. He's too wild, too free to settle down."

"Yeah, Benny is...Benny."

Will taps your arm with the back of his hand. "C'mon, let's go see who gets the bouquet."

"Alright." You slide off the fence and head back into the hall with Will.

Inside you see a crowd of people near the bride and grooms table. Tiia has her back to the crowd and you watch as she swings the bundle of flowers backwards. There is a collective gasp and you strain to see who caught the flowers.

As the crowd clears you see Santiago standing there with the bouquet. He's laughing, saying something to Frankie's aunt nearby and then he sees you. Your heart races. He gestures for you to come to him.

"Why did you-"

"For you." He holds the bouquet up and kisses your cheek. "I thought you might want them."

"Thank you. They're pretty."

"Are you okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, why- oh. When I went outside. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to just run out on you." You lick your lips and look down from his gaze. "I just needed some air."

Santiago cups your cheek. "Hey, look at me."

You look at him and it's a mistake. Your heart pounds, threatening to break through your ribs. "Yes?"

He leans in whispers, "Did I go too far earlier?"

"The cake?"

He nods.

"It was unexpected, but no." You can feel a flush rising in your chest. "I mean you've always been affectionate but we haven't really...talked about it."

Santiago chuckles softly. "I suppose we haven't. It's always been there but we've never acknowledged it. Are you uncomfortable? I know I'm a few years older and-"

"Santiago."

"Yes?"

"We're in the middle of a wedding. Maybe we should discuss this later? More privately?" You look around at the crowd that's pretty much dispersed.

He cracks a sheepish smile and tucks a bit of hair behind your ear, gliding his fingertips along your cheek before bumping your lip with his thumb. "Mas tarde, cariña," he murmurs.

You lick your lip where he touched and he doesn't miss it, eyes snapping to your mouth. "You know that I know limited Spanish."

"I said we'll talk later." He puts his arm around you and guides you toward your table. "Let's clear the way for the married couple's first dance."

_____________________

The first dance doesn't happen right away. The removal of the garter happens first. For those unfamiliar, it's like the tossing of the bouquet but generally for the men. The husband removes his wife's garter, a thin band of fabric worn around the thigh, and tosses it to the crowd. The one who catches it is said to be the next to marry. It's a symbol of good luck.

You watch as Tiia takes a seat in a chair brought out to the center floor. She is bright pink and you can't help but laugh a little. Frankie comes around the chair, taking her hand and kissing it gently. He says something you can't make out, but Tiia smiles.

"Come on Frankie!" Benny hollers.

"Oh be quiet Benny!" Frankie quips, flipping off his friend. "Not like you want it!"

"The hell I don't!"

Everyone laughs.

Santiago's hand slides over your knee, pushing the dress aside and allowing it to fall open. He can't keep his hands off of you it seems.

Frankie kneels down and pushes Tiia's dress up to expose her legs.

Santiago's hand inches up your leg, massaging his fingertips tenderly into the soft skin. You spare him a glance and his focus seems to be on the married couple like everyone else.

Frankie leans in and grabs the garter with his teeth and the guests cheer him on. You attempt to clap but your brain is elsewhere, short circuiting on the arousal nerves between your legs.

"Do you want it?" Santiago purrs in your ear and you shiver. Why did that have to sound like such a loaded question. Do you want what? Him? The garter? His attention?

"W-what?"

"The garter."

You turn your head to look at him and reply when suddenly you're smacked in the face with something. You jump, startled by the sudden sensation, and look down at the table where the white garter is sitting on it.

Somewhere Benny is hollering wildly, and Frankie says something along the lines of how you're the lucky lady. You don't hear it really because Santiago grabs the garter and rubs it between his fingers, smiling at you playfully. His other hand is still on your leg, farther up and dangerously close to your underwear.

"I'd love to see you in this." He says, fingers flexing on your skin. "And nothing else."

"Santiago!" You whisper sharply and he leans in close.

His lips meet yours and your heart stops. The world stops. His hand leaves your thigh and slides around to your hip, the other cradles your head, angling your face for better access.

It's like years of tension have finally broken and now it's coming out like breach in a dam. You reach for him, not sure what to grab but you land on his hair and his shoulder. He deepens the kiss, tongue pushing past your lips to roll against yours. He tastes like minty gum and you can't get enough.

He grips your hips with both hands and hauls you over onto his lap. The chair creaks under the weight of two bodies. You can't care, this is a dream come true. You don't want to stop kissing him because if you do, it feels like it might never happen again.

"Baby," Santiago groans into your mouth as you roll your hips down against his lap, desperate for some release. "Baby we gotta stop."

"No," you lick into his mouth desperately and he chases your lips, biting gently to slow you down.

His hand finds your hair and grips firmly, pulling you back. "Listen to me."

You stare at him, eyes locked on to his. They're so full of promises of what's to come. He looks as wrecked as you do, you're sure. "Yes?"

He grins slowly, leaning in for a soft kiss. "God you're beautiful like this."

You try to return the kiss, chasing his lips as he pulls back but his grip in your hair is firm.

"We're still at the wedding." He says softly. "I don't think we should be grinding on each other in such a public setting."

You lean back, settling yourself back on his thighs. Reality comes creeping in, a cold rush of embarrassment rising up your spine. He's right. You're at the wedding still, everyone can see you right now. You got so caught up in the euphoria that you forgot where you were.

"Santiago, you son of a bitch." Benny says from behind you. "You finally did it."

You turn and look back while Santiago leans over to see Benny. "Go away."

"Oh I will, I'll leave you two to face suck like teenagers. I just wanted to say it's about time. How was it?"

"Benny." Santiago says warningly.

You look between the two of them. "How was the kiss?"

Benny nods.

"Good, really good? Why?"

Santiago groans.

"Do you know why we call him Pope?" Benny asks and you shake your head. "It's because he brings you closer to God when he gets his hands on you."

"Benny! Fuck off!" Santiago shouts and throws a fork on the table at him. Benny dodges the projectile and runs off laughing. "God damn menace."

You run your hand through his curls, brushing your thumb over a little spot of grays peeking through. "Is that true?"

"Is what true? The Pope thing?"

"Yeah. Is that why they call you Pope?"

Santiago smiles softly. "It is. It's stupid and childish but-"

"I like it." You slide off his lap and lean in close to his ear. "You took me closer to God with a kiss, I can only imagine what more will be like." You grab his hand and before he can respond you step back, pulling his arm up. "Dance with me?"

_____________________

You and Santiago dance for a long time, slow and sweet. After about the tenth song he kisses your temple and says he needs to take a seat, his knees are killing him. You part from him and he goes to sit with Will and Frankie who are near the bar. You turn and head to the bride and grooms table to sit with Tiia.

"Hey you," Tiia says with a playful smirk. "I thought you were gonna get eaten alive earlier."

"I'm sorry." You sink down into Frankie's chair and she laughs. "I just lost my mind for a few minutes there. Was everyone staring?"

"No, everyone got up to dance and get food from the buffett. I noticed, obviously, because I've been watching you all night."

"Creepy."

Tiia pushes your shoulder. "Oh shut up. I set you up, but I never could have guessed this outcome."

"You set me up?"

"Yeah? I picked Santiago to be your best man. I knew the two of you have had chemistry since you met. I just gave you a little nudge in the right direction." She looks smug as she takes a sip of her wine. "You're welcome."

"You're a troublemaker."

"Matchmaker, thank you."

You roll your eyes. "Maybe too good of a match maker. I sucked face while you had your first dance."

She laughs, nearly spitting out her wine. "I don't need everyone to watch me dance with my husband to validate our marriage. You're my best friend, the fact that you are just as happy on my wedding day as I am, that means the world to me. You deserve a good man, and Santiago is a very good man."

"You really aren't mad I didn't pay attention?"

"Nope, because I can guarantee you I'll be all over Frankie at your wedding."

"My wedding? Yeah we'll be in our sixties before that happens." You pick at a spot on the front of your dress, directing your focus elsewhere in hopes of ending this conversation. "No one wants to marry me."

Tiia kicks you. "Bullshit. If you asked Santiago right now to run away and get married at a little chapel in Vegas he'd say yes."

"No he wouldn't. He's not reckless."

"Yes, he is. When it comes to you there is nothing he wouldn't do."

"Whatever."

"Whatever," she says mockingly. "Do you have any idea what he has told Frankie?"

You narrow your eyes. "You're lying."

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"Once. A birthday present that I figured out."

Tiia rolls her eyes. "That doesn't count."

"Why would Frankie tell you about what he and Santiago discuss?"

"Because I'm nosey and I ask. Plus, you're my best friend and you two have obvious chemistry."

"So what did he say?"

Tiia points to Santiago as he makes his way across the room. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"Tiia!"

"What's my two favorite women chatting about huh?" Santiago smiles and hands you a glass.

You look down into the glass. You can't drink today, you're Benny's designated driver.

"It's non alcoholic, don't worry."

"Thank you."

"She doesn't need alcohol to get a little crazy." Tiia teases, elbowing you from her seat. "She has a better drug, right Pope?"

Santiago chuckles. "You're never going to let us live that moment down huh?"

"Never. I was surprised you didn't just take her to the bathroom."

"Tiia!" You shove her and she cackles. "God!"

"I'm teasing you. Seriously, if you guys wanna get out of here and have a little fun I'll get someone to take Benny home." Tiia looks across the way at the table where Benny is telling some animated story. "Or he can sleep on the couch at me and Frankie's house. We'll drop him off before we go to the hotel."

Santiago shakes his head. "I'm not stepping out on your wedding, and I'm sorry for the behavior earlier. It's not the right time or place."

"You two are a match. She said the same thing when she came over. I'm not mad, I'm happy you're happy." Tiia stands and walks around the table to stand before Santiago. She lays a hand on his cheek before giving it a hard pat. "Problema."

"Un poco."

"Oh no you're big trouble, not little trouble." She says and shoves his head back playfully. "Go, make my girl happy."

Santiago smiles and kisses her forehead. "You heard the lady." He offers his hand to you. "Can I take you home?"

"One more dance?"

"I think I can manage that."

You follow Santiago out onto the dancefloor, hand in his as he lays his other on your waist. A slow song comes on, one you've heard a few times on the radio but never paid much attention to.

"I'm sorry about earlier." He says softly out of nowhere.

"I'm just as much to blame."

"I just got a little ahead of myself, like Benny said, I felt like a horny teenager."

You giggle and lean your head on his shoulder. "It's been a while, and we built this tension to a boiling point. We were bound to snap someday."

Santiago runs his hand up your back and cradles your neck loosely. "Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?"

"Yes, but I don't mind hearing it again."

He drops his head to your ear and places a little kiss on the outer shell. "You'd look even more beautiful in my bedroom."

A hot flush warms your cheeks. "Santi...cool it."

"I can't help it." He grins and you hear rather than see it. "I just want to eat you up."

"We can stay a bit longer." You kiss his throat and he lets out a quiet groan that you relish in, grinning big ear to ear against his skin. "It'll do you good to wait. You'll want it more."

_____________________

The sound of a cell phone ringing rips you from a deep sleep. It's unfamiliar, not your ringtone but shrill and annoying nonetheless. The room is bright, the sun shining through the cream colored blinds and past the sheer curtains. Everything is familiar but like you had seen it in a dream, nothing was quite the same as you remember. You sit up and look around. Yes. It's the same as last night, the lighting makes things look different is all.

"Make it stop," Santiago groans from beside you.

"I don't know where it is." You pat around the blankets, trying to find the source of noise. "It's your phone."

"Fuck." He sits up and you get a full view of his strong, bare back in the bright daylight. There are a few scars, but one big one just behind his shoulder gets your attention. It looks strange, like a paint splatter of pink skin against his tan complexion.

You reach out to touch the scar, trace it curiously. What on Earth made a scar like that. "Santi?"

"Just a minute baby." He leans over and your hand falls to the bed. He comes back up with the phone in hand and swipes the screen to deny the call.

You lay back and he crawls under the covers beside you.

"Now, good morning." He grins, touching your nose and you sniffle. "I hope you're not too sore."

"Me?" You giggle, rolling to face him head on. "I'd be more worried about you."

Santiago chuckles. "Because of my knees?"

"Yeah and your back." You slide your hand over his shoulder and explore the scar with your fingertips. "What's this one from?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Mmhmm."

"A bullet." He takes your hand away and threads his fingers between yours. "A sniper when I was twenty seven. We were on a mission somewhere in the Ukraine. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and boom." He chuckles softly. "It went straight through. I suppose I'm lucky, they were clearly aiming for something more vital and missed."

You play with his fingers and he watches. What do you say? Sorry? Wow? You know Santiago and the guys are ex military special forces. You know they all have their scars and close call stories. You've heard the others tell them over and over but Santiago...he has always been quiet.

"It's a lot to take in." He murmurs, bringing your knuckles up to kiss.

You laugh softly, more to yourself than anything. "I broke my leg falling out of a tree once."

Santiago chuckles. "Bet that hurt." He kisses your knuckles again and lets his lips linger. "It's okay if you're not sure how to respond."

"Thank you," you mutter sheepishly.

His phone starts ringing again and he sighs. He rolls over and grabs it, bringing it back to lay between the two of you. "It's Frankie."

"Answer it."

"Should I? You don't mind?"

You shake your head. "He might need you."

Santiago swipes to answer and presses the phone to his ear. "Buenos dias pendejo."

You smile and he gives you a cheeky grin. That's a little bit of Spanish you do know. "Be nice."

He mouths a quick, 'No' before speaking again. "Why are you calling me after your wedding night? Shouldn't you and Tiia be sleeping? I didn't give you that money to wake me up at the crack of dawn when you're meant to be boarding a plane to Hawaii for your honeymoon in a few hours."

"Hawaii sounds good." You snuggle down into the blankets, imagining the warm sun on your body.

"Yes she's fine." Santiago chuckles softly. "Did you want to talk to her?"

You raise your eyebrows and he gives you a wink.

"Here you go." He passes you the phone and you press it to your ear.

"Hello?"

"Did that dick make you stupid?" Tiia asks through a laugh.

"Shut up!" You laugh, rolling over onto your back. Santiago's arm snakes across your waist and he pulls you close, face in your shoulder. "I'll hang up on you."

"Really though, did you guys have a good night? I just wanted Frankie to call and make sure you got home okay."

"Yes, we got home okay. It was a good night."

Santiago hums against your skin, biting playfully at your jaw. "It could be a better morning."

"Which one of you said I love you first?"

"Tiia."

"I know it happened."

"Goodbye Tiia, I'm hanging up now."

"Oh you-"

You toss the phone into the pillows and close your eyes. Santiago lazily kisses your neck, his short beard giving you a bit of a burn on your shoulder.

"It was me." He whispers between kisses.

"Hmm?"

"I said it first."

"You could hear her?" You shift around and lay so you're face to face agan.

He nods. “Do you remember?"

"Mmm. You said I love you, mallma?"

He presses a kiss to your lips. "It's mi alma. Do you want to know what that means?"

"Yes."

"It means, my soul." He runs a hand through your hair and brings you close for another kiss. "It's a pet name for someone you really care deeply for."

You grip his back and press your forehead to his. You give a sheepish smile. "How do you say I love you again?"

"Te amo."

"Te amo, Santiago."

He grins and chuckles softly. "We'll work on the accent."

"Good thing I have the best teacher."

"Yes you do."

"Until then," You tuck your face into his neck and he threads a hand in your hair. "I love you."

"I love you too."

End

-----------

Header by delicate-venus

Dedication: To delicate-venus, because you let me write your dream wedding for you with your dream man as inspiration for this fic.

-----------

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

#santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fan fic #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier santiago garcia #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #fransisco catfish morales #sanitago garcia x reader #fic #fanfic

228 notes · View notes

fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years ago

Text

I Wonder What It’s Like (2/3) - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Kathy Brandon Pairing: jondami Summary: Damian is a mess. A big, sappy, romantic mess. A/N: This hot *~garbage~*. Sorry.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

He was just walking down the hallway in their team’s shared apartment. A loft that overlooked the city of Chicago, the ridiculous rent paid for by his father, no questions asked.

The little kitten he’d found on patrol the night before was pattering excitedly after him as he walked, Titus protectively on the little thing’s tail while she meowed loudly. Damian was laughing as he walked, and had just felt her jump at his ankle and stumble, so turned to make sure she was righting herself.

But then he froze.

In his attempt to glance down at the kitten, his gaze caught movement nearby, in the bedroom he was passing.

Jon’s bedroom.

The door was open and Jon stood there in front of a mirror, fiddling with the collar of a white dress shirt he was already practically busting out of. Not that Damian noticed the shirt too much. No, he was too busy staring at the perfectly form-fitting black slacks that hugged Jon’s ass and thighs – and that in the mirror he could clearly see they were not buttoned yet.

“Jon…”

He felt the name come out of his mouth without consent, and instantly snapped his lips closed, practically sucked them between his teeth.

Kept staring, though.

Refocused back on the shirt, on the sliver of chest he could still see, and the muscles rippling as Jon shifted. Stared at those long fingers fumbling against each other. Felt his breath catch in his throat, as Jon slowly glanced over his shoulder at him.

Jon blinked and his face brightened, and Damian – motherfucking Damian goddamn Wayne – felt his knees go weak as Jon smiled at him. As his violet eyes shone, and absolute joy radiated from his being.

“Hey, D.” He said. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I…” Damian cleared his throat, thanking his lucky stars. Jon had heard him, but he hadn’t heard his…tone. Good, that was good. As he exhaled his relief, he glanced down and saw the kitten, Titus still tight on her heels, stomping forward into Jon’s room. “Theadora!”

The kitten mewed grumpily as Damian stepped into the room and swooped her up into his hands. She wiggled even as he held her to his chest, and tried to bite at his fingers.

“We do not enter rooms uninvited.” He scolded, touching his finger to her nose. He looked back up at Jon. “My apologies.”

Jon snorted. “You know you and your animals are welcome any time. I don’t mind.” He turned back to the mirror. “In fact, I enjoy it. Always a nice break.”

Damian hummed, biting the words on his tongue. A nice break from what, doing nothing? No, that would be rude. He was working on not being rude, on saving the sarcasm for when it was warranted, not every word out of his mouth. He was better than that. He should be better than that.

(Especially to Jon.)

“…What’s the occasion?” Damian nodded towards him. “I don’t recall you being much into suits.”

“I’m not. It’s some shindig at the Planet. Mom’s getting an award. Again.” Jon chuckled as he rolled his eyes. “She said since I’m barely home any more the least I could do is come tonight.”

Damian couldn’t stop his eyes from darting downwards again. “I doubt it’s an…ahem…open-trouser affair…”

Internally, Damian winced at himself. It wasn’t sarcasm, but it was still rude. Jon wasn’t an idiot. Obviously he wasn’t done getting dressed. There was no need to tease. There was no need to open his stupid mouth.

But Jon laughed anyway. “I’m getting there, I’m getting there.” He stuck his tongue out thoughtfully, returning to his task at his collar. “I’m going to tuck my shirt in, but I can’t get these stupid buttons up top, here.” He tried for another second, then spun back to Damian. “A little help?”

Damian felt himself smiling, almost instinctively stepping forward. “Sure.”

Jon cooed as he grabbed Theadora from Damian’s hands, petting her as Damian took over button duty, gently folding the little round plastic through the fabric of the shirt. He ignored how close he was to Jon’s skin, how easily it would be to reach out and just touch him.

(Just caress his jaw, just lean forward and kiss him, just–)

The buttons were finished, and he quickly stepped back. Jon twisted his torso back towards the mirror. “Perfect.”

But then he turned back to Damian with a sheepish grin. “Help with one more thing?”

Damian shrugged.

And he watched, almost bewildered, as Jon didn’t give his kitten back (much to Titus’s disappointment in the doorway) but instead placed her on top of his head, right in the center of his nest of curls. Then he turned towards his bed, hastily shoving the shirt tails into those unbuttoned pants before grabbing a red ribbon that was lying across his comforter.

“I know you’re going to think it’s cheesy, but it’s kind of an inside thing between me and my dad.” He spun around, balancing Theadora perfectly, and held the ribbon out. “But I never learned how to properly tie one.”

Damian glanced between Jon’s kitten crown, and the ribbon in his hand. “A…bowtie?”

“It’s a thing, I promise. Inside joke.” He walked closer. “Please?”

Damian sighed, annoyed that his default exhale made him sound put off, when in reality, he really wasn’t. Not at all. He was happy to help.

He was always happy to help Jon.

But he took the ribbon and looped it carefully around Jon’s neck. Ignored the urge to pull the other forward with it, ignored those thoughts already popping back into his brain, and began to knot it.

“…I’m really only going to make my mom happy.” Jon let out his own sigh as he finally buttoned the stupid pants. Damian was happy to have a task, anything to stop him from looking down again. “These things are so boring.”

Damian snorted. “Welcome to my life.”

“Hey, I bet your dad will be there. And Diana. Apparently this is like. A huge award. Wouldn’t be surprised if Bruce Wayne showed up for some reason. You know, beyond my dad inviting him and Diana as a friends or something.”

“Unfortunately I do not know my father’s schedule.” Damian hummed. “I can call and ask if he or any of the family are going. While my siblings are complete Neanderthals, they might ease some of your boredom.”

“Or better yet…” Jon grinned. “Why don’t you just come with me? I’m sure no one will mind if I bring a plus-one. Besides, it’s been a while since you’ve been home too, right? Might be nice to see your dad.”

Damian laughed before he thought about it. “Absolutely not.”

And he wanted to absolutely stab himself, immediately, at the disappointment that flashed through Jon’s eyes, the way his smile faltered just a little. All because Damian laughed.

At him. In his face.

God, he was the worst.

“I mean,” Damian coughed. He slowly pulled Jon’s bowtie through its last loop, and then carefully tugged Theadora from Jon’s hair. “I’m on monitor duty tonight. And the girls are already out for their own night off.”

Jon’s grin, though it never disappeared, softened now. “D, when was the last time you took a night off?” Damian opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out because he didn’t have one. “The world would survive if all four of us were out acting like normal people for one night.”

“That’s how all apocalypse stories start, isn’t it?” Damian mumbled, keeping his gaze lowered. “Besides, if it’s like you said, half of the Justice League will be at this event. Someone needs to be out there watching.”

“No one said it had to be you.”

Damian glanced up, felt his cheeks warm as he realized Jon had stepped closer. Was staring gently down at him, that simple smile still on his face.

But Damian was a coward.

Emotions were a weakness. Wanting was selfish, and selfishness was unbecoming. Rejection was a useless pain and so easily avoidable.

He would not mess this up. He would not mess up one of the only friendships he had. He would not mess up Jon.

So he stepped back, an apologetic smile on his face. “Enjoy your party, Jonathan.”

He scurried from the room with his pets before he could see Jon frown.

“Damian?!” Jon practically screamed, even over Maya’s attempts at soothing him. He smacked his hand against the door again. “D, please, just open the door!”

Damian, instead, turned away from it, rubbing his fist angrily against the tears pouring from his eyes.

“He just wants to help.” Kathy whispered from the desk. “You know him.”

“And he knows me.” Damian spat. “He knows better than to do this.”

“You just heard your mother might be dead, what else did you think he was going to do? Shrug it off and go play video games?” Kathy snapped back. “You’re his best friend, of course he’s going to want to comfort you. Take care of you.”

“I don’t need it. I don’t need comforted. I don’t need…” His face twisted in disgust. “Taken care of.” He shook his head. “I don’t even need you here.”

“Well, sucks I was there when Batman called and can move faster than you, huh?” Kathy smirked. “Jon may respect your boundaries, but that doesn’t mean I have to.” She let her smile drop. “Besides, I know what it’s like. Losing…questionable family. Not knowing how to feel about it. I…I get it.”

“…I know.” Damian sighed. Sniffed and ran his hand across his nose. “I know you do, Kathy. And I…despite everything, I do appreciate it.”

“Damian, please!” Jon whined.

“I can’t.” Damian whispered, twisting purposefully away from the door. “I…I can’t look at him right now.”

“Why, because he’s trying too hard? Or because he wouldn’t get it?”

“Both, maybe.” Damian shrugged, reaching for the tissue box on his nightstand. “And because…it’s embarrassing.”

“What is?”

“I’m mourning the not-yet-confirmed-death of a mass murderer, and here the son of fucking Superman wants to make sure I’m okay.” He shook his head. “This is not worth his time. I’m not worth his time. When’s he going to see that? Why does he think I am?”

“He’s your…best friend.” Kathy reiterated, but she seemed to struggle with the words. Like best friend wasn’t supposed to mean that. “He just wants to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am okay. I’m always okay.” He dabbed the tissue at his eyes. “I have to always be okay.”

“Why, because you’re the son of Batman and anything less than okay is a weakness?” Kathy mocked. “I thought you were over that line of thinking. Years ago.”

“It’s…I am, it’s not just that, it’s…” Damian sighed, dropped to sit on the edge of his bed. He pulled the photo of him and his mother back into his hands, the one he’d had in his desk drawer up until his father had called. “If I’m okay, people think I’m good. That I’m a good person.” He gently touched Talia’s face. The smile was warm in this photo. It wasn’t always. “If I’m not okay. I’ll…then I’ll go back to being bad. I’ll lose control. I’ll…be that monster again. The one I used to be.”

Kathy blinked. “And?”

Damian waited a beat. Listened as Jon continued to bang on the door, desperately call his name.

“Jon deserves better than a monster as a best friend.” Damian whispered.

“Wha…that’s it? You have to be okay for his benefit?” Kathy drawled. “That is the most convoluted bullshit I’ve ever heard. Especially because Jon loves you no matter how messed up you are. Jon loves all of us, no matter how messed up we all are.”

Damian remained silent. Listened as Jon pleaded with him still to open the door.

“Meanwhile he’s crumbling at the mere idea that something’s wrong with you and he can’t personally fix it.” Kathy grumbled, standing from the chair. She paused there, for a moment, looking between Damian and the door. “…You know?”

Damian glanced up at her.

“If you asked me, it almost sounds like you’re more upset about upsetting Jon than your mother potentially being dead.”

Damian didn’t answer the accusation, just shrunk deeper into himself, into his own brain. Let guilt swirl in his gut, both for Jon and Talia.

He closed his eyes. He truly was a monster, wasn’t he? In more ways than one.

After another second, Kathy sighed, and Damian opened his eyes to see her moving. “…You two, I swear.”

Damian watched as she walked over to the door, throwing it open.

“Jon!” She yelled. Jon jerked back at her tone. “Give it a rest, okay?!” Gentler, as he lowered his hand. “He’s fine. He just needs a little time to himself.”

Jon, the epitome of a kicked puppy, glanced over Kathy’s shoulder. “D?”

Damian sniffed, wiped at his eye. “It’s fine, Jon. I’ll…be out later.”

“You shouldn’t be alone right now, D.” Jon rattled off immediately. “I can-”

“You can leave him alone.” Maya cut off, pulling Jon back. “Now you saw him, okay? With your own eyes. He is alive and he’s in his room.”

“Damian…”

“Don’t worry on my account, Jon. Please.” Damian tried, offering a weak smile. It just made Jon frown deeper. “I’m fine. In fact, feel free to take Kathy with you.” Kathy glanced back at him. “I give you full permission to give him all the details of my father’s phone call, and everything we’ve talked about, if you believe it will help.”

Kathy looked at him for a moment, then rolled her eyes.

“You need therapy.” She sighed. Then she turned to Jon. “Both of you.”

Jon blinked dumbly as she took his other arm and began to pull him down the hall. Maya leaned into the room to grab his doorknob and gave him a wink.

“Preferably some couples therapy.” She hummed. “And, like, soon. Or Kathy and I are gonna lose our minds.”

She pulled the door shut. Damian just sighed, rubbed at his tears, and stared at the picture of his maybe-dead mother.

Damian Wayne didn’t dream.

He had nightmares. He had flashbacks, absolutely. He woke up in cold sweats, screaming, crying, whatever. You name it.

But he didn’t dream. He had nightmares, or nothing at all.

So…this didn’t make sense. This didn’t make any sense. He was lucid, he knew this wasn’t real. He recognized it as a dream.

Because he didn’t own an antique shop.

But here he was, behind the counter of one, refurbishing an old cabinet, carefully painting along its edges, listening contently as a pair of customers were rung up.

By…by Jon.

“Thanks for stopping by K.W. and Sons. Have a great day!” He called as the old couple waved and walked out the front door, bell above the door chiming. As soon as the door slammed shut, Jon gave a happy sigh. Damian, still facing the cabinet, sensed more than heard Jon turn around. “…I still can’t believe you did it.”

“Hm?” Was all the response Damian had.

“I cannot believe you found the book Mr. Hamada used to propose to his wife.” Suddenly there was a weight on Damian’s back, arms wrapping around his waist. “Like…how do you find that? How do you even know where to start looking? They didn’t even realize they’d accidentally given it away until three years after the fact!”

“Well, for starters,” Damian laughed as Jon kissed his cheek. “It’s nice to know a private detective or two. Then it’s just a simple retracing of steps.” Damian placed his paintbrush along the edge of his paint tray. “Also – the internet is a great tool. There’s only so many books with the phrase ‘will you marry me?’ written in English and Japanese in the front cover. That kind of thing goes viral all the time.”

Jon hummed, leaning his chin into Damian’s shoulder. “Mrs. Hamada cried when I brought it out. It was sweet.”

“Such a shame I missed it.” Damian drawled cheekily. Jon squeezed his sides.

“Don’t be rude.”

Damian turned his head, keeping his smirk. “You love it when I’m rude.”

Jon hummed again, glancing downwards. Damian was so distracted by the lashes splaying across his rosy cheeks that he didn’t notice Jon dipping his finger into the pastel teal paint until he was dabbing it against his nose.

“I don’t know if I said love.”

“I don’t know.” Damian said thoughtfully, leaning over until his nose brushed Jon’s, smearing the paint against his skin as well. “I think you did.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“Nuh-uh, times a thousand.” Jon countered, dragging his nose along Damian’s jaw to make a bigger mess. At the same time, he squeezed Damian’s torso again in an attempted tickle. “No take-backsies.”

And despite the childishness, Damian laughed, leaned into Jon’s embrace. Accepted paint-filled butterfly kisses and real ones too. Gently twisted in Jon’s arms to face him completely, and take a tender hold of Jon’s face.

He had a beard here. A small one. And it was graying. How old were they? Do you age in dreams? Damian found himself not caring.

He let his laugh drop into a sigh, stroking a thumb across Jon’s face as he stared into his eyes. After a moment, he smiled. “I love you.”

Jon beamed. Like it was the first time he’d ever heard it. Like it was the only thing he ever wanted to hear in his whole life. He pressed his forehead to Damian’s and closed his eyes. “I-”

“I love you too.”

Damian jerked, his head shooting up.

Wha…what?

He blinked rapidly, wiping at his lip instinctively. There was drool there. Since when did he drool while he slept?

Since when was he sleeping?

He blinked a few more times, the room becoming clearer. It was still a dark space, but he recognized it. Their apartment living room. The girls were in the loveseat nearby, also asleep. There was light coming from the TV across the room.

Oh yeah. It was their monthly team movie night.

“You okay?” Came a whisper to his right. He flinched again, spinning around to see Jon staring down at him with an amused look. Damian let his eyes dart around, and the situation became clear.

He’d fallen asleep during the movie. On Jon’s shoulder.

And dear god, he was drooling.

“Uh…y-yeah.” Damian stuttered, throat dry. “Is the movie over?”

“Just about. Guess I’m the only one who made it.” Jon laughed softly. “I don’t blame you though. It’s pretty boring.”

Damian nodded silently, trying to look at anything but Jon. Glanced over to their teammates. No modesty there, Maya had Kathy’s head pressed to her breasts, her own legs contorted around Kathy’s waist. He frowned – there was no way that was comfortable for either of them. Freaks.

“You can…uh…go back to sleep, if you want.” Jon murmured. Damian turned back to him as he yawned. “I was about to fall asleep myself, actually. And…honestly, I don’t feel like getting up to go back to my own bed.” Even in the dark, Damian noticed Jon’s cheeks brighten. “And, uh…you’re warm.”

Damian smirked. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Jon snorted, fiddling with a nearby blanket, and throwing it over the both of them as Damian resituated himself closer. Without a word, Jon slouched, throwing his arm across the back of the sofa, forcing Damian closer into his side.

“Team slumber party.” Jon said absently. “Been a while since the four of us did one of these.”

“Indeed.” Damian breathed. His heart was pounding as dared to lay his head back on Jon’s shoulder. Waited for the other shoe to drop, waited for Jon to say something. To tell him off.

Instead, Jon just…leaned his head against Damian’s in return. Whispered: “Goodnight, Damian.”

Damian – giddy, frozen, and oh-so pleased – just closed his eyes once more.

“…Goodnight, Jon.”

#jondami #jon kent #Damian Wayne #kathy branden

46 notes · View notes

cotncandyboifics · 3 years ago

Text

A Lovely Night: Chapter 2

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6

Pairing(s): pre-established roceit & prinxiety, anaroceit, eventual anaroloceit, eventual intruality

Word count: ~2k

Story summary: Roman's boyfriends had had a rivalry since before either of them had actually met Roman. Running a bit late to a date night, Roman accidentally gets them to start dating too.

General CW: non-detailed description of an anxiety attack, non-detailed description of physical pain, food, kissing, potentially triggering descriptions of physical bodies, swearing, caps lock, school settings, s-xual innuendos, slight description of gore(imagery), vague descriptions of anxiety, Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, implied heavy restriction (ED), inner monologue-style anxiety description, eating,(will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: kissing, swearing, subtle s-xual innuendo, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: this is the starring role chapter! If that makes sense... after this I'm kind of making up the plot stream-of-consciousness style. I'm pretty excited to get CH 5 out.

...

Virgil knew this whole thing was a mistake.

Roman had practically begged him to break out his skirt, fishnet, and heels. He'd only just bought them, and Roman was entirely too enticed by the idea of his boyfriend wearing them. He was very nervous - he'd never worn heels before, and never a skirt out in public - but he just couldn't bring himself to say no to his love.

And so, here he stood, leaning on the railing over a valley as the sun began reaching to kiss the horizon. He'd worn his favorite ripped crop top and leather jacket, fishnets reaching across his exposed navel, down beneath his plaid purple skirt and all the way into the black high heels he wore. He'd done his makeup a little nicer than usual, winging his eyeliner and getting a bit of purple sparkles in with his eyeshadow. his hair curled and twined haphazardly over his forehead and eyes as he watched lights of houses in the valley flicker on.

This was meant to be a special date, just Janus, Roman and Virgil. Roman had planned it, and kept the events a complete secret to both his boyfriends, simply telling them when and where to meet him. Virgil checked his phone; it was two minutes to seven, the agreed upon time. Virgil tended to arrive early to most things, since he was usually anxious that he'd be late even when getting a 30 minute head start. He passed his phone between his hands, the screen flickering on when his thumb accidentally tapped it, and a picture of Roman kissing a smirking Janus on the cheek greeted him. He felt his cheeks heat up, and slid his phone back into his pocket.

A clicking noise sounded from a little ways away, and Virgil turned to seek its source.

Janus was walking up, the heels of his black and white dress shoes clicking on the pavement. He wore a black wool suit with golden accents, a red dress shirt with subtle frills and a black bowtie. On his head rested his favorite bowler hat, concealing the majority of his golden curls - some of which escaped anyway, tucked neatly against his forehead and over his ears. He smirked and bowed as he approached Virgil, dipping his head and holding one golden gloved hand fisted tight against the small of his own back. Virgil scoffed and shoved his shoulder, and Janus stumbled a bit, snickering back.

Janus joined Virgil at the railing, looking out at the valley and the setting sun. They stood in a comfortable silence for a while, Virgil needing to consistently will himself not to rest his head on Janus' shoulder that was painfully close but felt so far.

After long enough, Janus cleared his throat. "Where might our dear prince be?" He ran his fingers down the underside of one of his lapels, not yet tearing his gaze from the pink clouds surrounding the sunset. Virgil opted to check his phone.

"Uh..." He couldn't form the words, so he simply presented his phone to Janus. A single text had come through.

Romano<3 Hey babe, I'm running kinda late. Why don't you and Jannie entertain each other until I get there? Sorry. Love you <3<3<3

Janus hummed, eyebrows raised. "Well it appears we're stuck with each other for the time being." He smirked slightly, and Virgil scoffed, bumping shoulders with him.

"What a waste," Virgil mused under his breath after a few more minutes of them staring out at the sunset together.

"Ah..." Janus glanced at Virgil briefly. "Such a shame. What a lovely view. It's practically hand drawn for a couple." He sighed, a little too dramatically, and Virgil furrowed his brow at him. "If only Roman were here. Unfortunately, you're not really my type, darling."

"Really." Virgil spat, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest protectively.

"Alas it's only you and I," Janus continued, leaning slightly closer to Virgil, "and frankly, we've got no chemistry whatsoever."

"Ah, okay snakey." Virgil bit back, not daring to look at the smirk he was sure was playing on Janus' face. "I think I can make that call, huh? Just because you look all pretty in that polyester suit doesn't-"

"It's wool," Janus interjected in annoyance. Although after a moment he gasped slightly, turning to Virgil fully. "Wait a moment! Did you just call me pretty, Charlie Frown?" He leaned a little too close, and Virgil scrunched his nose, leaning away slightly.

"Stealing Ro's nicknames for me doesn't make you creative," Virgil deflected, smirking right back at Janus.

"Mmm, perhaps not," Janus leaned away, seemingly examining his fingernails through his gloves.

"And for the record, I'm also feeling no chemistry."

"Is that so?" Janus' attention was back on Virgil, and their eyes locked in an intense and silent battle. Virgil wouldn't back down, just as he never had before, but this time he wasn't sure what he was trying to prove. He straightened his posture, making his chest puff out slightly. Even if Janus was taller than him, he wouldn't shy away from a confidence contest. No, not even if his crush was literally looming over him, not even if he could swear he just saw Janus' eyes flick to his lips for an imperceptible millisecond.

"Yeah. It is." He leaned his head forward, almost bumping his forehead on Janus'. Had he ever seen Janus' face so red?

"So you agree, then," Janus spoke, voice ever so slightly unsteady, but he didn't dare back down. Even if he was nose to nose with a boy he was in love with.

"Yeah, I guess I do." Virgil scrunched his nose again. This time, when Janus' eyes flicked to his lips, it wasn't deniable. He watched it happen, clear as day.

And so, he took a chance.

He took one step forward, not moving his head at all but nearly pushing his body against Janus'. Janus responded in kind, taking a step forward as well, and they were chest to chest. Virgil reached up and gripped Janus' lapels. They were impressively soft, and Virgil realized Janus hadn't just been bragging; it was in fact a wool suit. Janus' hands came to Virgil's hips. Virgil pressed their foreheads together, and didn't dare look away from Janus' eyes. They both breathed on each other, caught up in the heat of the moment without even needing to move with each other.

They'd both been waiting for this for so long.

Slowly, Janus' arms wrapped around Virgil's waist, and Virgil tilted his jaw up slightly. Janus met him halfway, immediately initiating a passionate, openmouthed kiss. Virgil's arms wrapped around Janus' neck, and Janus held him as close against himself as he physically could.

Virgil's mind was exploding, and so was Janus'. Neither of them could believe that this was really real. But they were both too afraid to break the kiss to make sure that it was, so they just kept kissing.

Hands wandered as they did, and Virgil had his arms wrapped beneath Janus' and around his back, both of them pulling each other against themselves as snugly as they could. Neither could get enough of this feeling they'd been chasing for so many years, and the fact that it had all culminated into this moment felt intoxicating in a way neither could describe.

Eventually things slowed down, and they went from lovingly tongue battling to trading gentle slow pecks, both of them smiling stupidly as they rested their foreheads together once more.

Janus opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted. "I genuinely thought you two weren't going to stop kissing for a minute there. Jeez."

Janus gasped and Virgil yelped, both of them jumping about a foot in the air and a foot away from each other. Roman, who was sitting on the bench next to them, broke out in laughter.

"Ro you can't sneak up on us like that, man!" Virgil wheezed out though labored breaths, as he tried to calm himself. Janus just stood straight as a pencil with his hands pressed into his face.

After long enough, Roman caught his breath, but he was still smiling so big at his boyfriends. They both looked between Roman and each other, trying desperately to probe the situation without moving a muscle.

Roman brought his hands to his face, fingers curled into happy fists. "Do you know how happy it makes me that you two finally realized?" Roman practically squealed, and if it were even possible, Virgil's face went even redder. Janus collected himself, and cleared his throat.

"Well hello, Roman." He opened his mouth to say more, but the words wouldn't come. He kept glancing to Virgil, who had taken to staring at the floor.

Roman looked between the two of them for a moment. "Oh you big buffoons. Talking always has been hard for the two of you, huh? Come here, my loves." He patted the bench on either side of him, and his boyfriends came at his call, settling in with their thighs against Roman's. "Now hmm, how should we start... I suppose you can fill me in on what I missed?" he looked between them. "Surely you didn't simply see each other in your lovely-" Roman made a point to look Virgil up and down slowly, "-outfits," And Janus as well, "And just decide to attach at the lips immediately? That sounds like something I'd do, more so than either of you." Janus chuckled, and kissed Roman's cheek.

"Well, snakey here decided to make a deal about how pretty the sunset was. And how it was so romantic and all that. And how it was a waste that-" Virgil's snarky explanation was cut off.

"Excuse me, I started it? No no no Virgie," Janus smirked as Virgil's eyes widened at the nickname, "You were the first to make a sly comment about the waste of a romantic view."

"You tell Ro then, if you think you know so much better." Virgil crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his tongue out at Janus, who hummed a laugh.

"Alright. Well," His smirk was lost then, and he took to adjusting his gloves. "I then made a comment about the lack of chemistry between us, and... And I think Virgie said something about me being pretty," His smirk was no longer lost, and Virgil rolled his eyes to try and distract himself from his heart racing in his chest. "And... I'm not sure. We got... lost in the moment." Janus smiled then. A genuine smile. It was such a rare sight (as Roman and Virgil often commented to each other) that Roman nudged Virgil's shoulder so he'd look up to see it too. They both gaped at Janus happily for a few moments, before Janus cleared his throat. "So I suppose then that in the end, I was correct that you find me pretty, Virgil?"

Virgil choked on air for a moment. "Sure, yeah, whatever," He spoke under his breath, "but you were also wrong about the chemistry thing. So suck it." Virgil gave him a challenging grin.

"Ayo!" Roman snickered at the innuendo, and Virgil and Janus both rolled their eyes at him.

"But darling," Janus ignored Roman for a moment, and Virgil swore his chest would explode if Janus kept using pet names for him, "You so strongly agreed that there was no chemistry to be found between us, and yet." He held his hands out, gesturing to their circumstances and smirking yet again.

"Oh shut up pretty boy," Virgil growled in annoyance, reaching across Roman's lap and pulling Janus by the cheeks into another kiss.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #ts janus #janus sanders #roman sanders #anxceit #anaroceit #roceit #prinxiety #a lovely night #romantic no?

30 notes · View notes

justgleekout · 4 years ago

Text

Fic: Grease Monkey

Summary: Blaine goes to visit Kurt at 'Hummel Tires And Lube' but he is not prepared for the sight that awaits him.

Rating: T

Words: 1796

Read on: Ao3 and FF.net

Notes: I had this idea in my head for YEARS. Then I saw a post about this premise on tumblr and I thought “fuck it! This is my moment!” So I wrote it down. Please enjoy some thirsty Blaine ;)

I wanna thank my dearest beta @esperantoauthor (Esperanto on Ao3) for not only correcting my mistakes but also being super supportive and kind and actually teaching me shit! <333

I also kinda made art for this fic so y'all understand my vision. I hope you enjoy it!

The doorbell rang at the Hudson-Hummel household. Blaine was standing at the front door smiling in anticipation, bowtie in place and curls neatly trapped in gel. He and Kurt were going to breadsticks tonight to celebrate their one month anniversary. All right, not the fanciest place for a date, Blaine would admit, but they wouldn’t be able to afford much better anyways. And besides, Lima didn’t really have much more to offer.

Blaine was a bit early, so when Carole opened the door instead of his boyfriend, he wasn’t too surprised.

“Hi Carole. Is Kurt ready yet? We, eh, have a date. I’m a little early, but I thought-“ he looked inside past Carole’s shoulder to see if Kurt might be coming down the stairs already.

“Oh, I’m sorry honey, Kurt’s still at the garage. He promised Burt to help out for a bit. I guess they’re running a little late. Why don’t you meet him there? I’m sure he’d be happy to see you,” Carole offered with a smile.

“Oh, eh, sure. I suppose I could do that,” Blaine said, with somewhat forced optimism. The idea didn’t sound as good to him as it seemed to sound to Carole. The last time Blaine had gone over to ‘Hummel Tires and Lube’ he had convinced Burt to give his son “the sex talk,” merely a week before becoming said son’s boyfriend. He and Burt were on good terms and Blaine always felt welcome in his house, but he would rather not relive the awkwardness of that moment, especially now that he had so much to lose. “Thank you Carole, have a nice evening,” he said with a small smile.

—

“Kurt?” Blaine called out when he walked through the open garage door into the workshop. He felt awkward and out of place in the big space filled with cars, machines, and tools. He had dressed up nicely for his and Kurt’s date so he didn’t dare to touch anything in fear of getting dirty. He just stood there awkwardly shuffling from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of Kurt. A moment had passed but there was no sign of Kurt or his father. I shouldn’t have come, Blaine thought. Kurt would want to go home to change first, before going on their date, surely. So Blaine was mostly there just to say an awkward hello and meet Kurt again a little later at his house, where they were supposed to meet up in the first place. He even felt a little relieved when no one answered. He started to walk away towards the exit to just wait in his car for Kurt to come home, but right when he reached the garage door he heard his name.

“Blaine?” Kurt appeared from behind a car. “I thought we were supposed to meet at 6? Did I get the time wrong?” He looked over his shoulder at a clock hanging on the wall behind him. “I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.” His voice was soft and sincere.

“Oh no don’t worry about it, I was a little early so I-“ Blaine turned around to face his boyfriend and his eyes grew big when he saw Kurt. He didn’t know what he expected, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for this.

Kurt was standing next to a shelving unit, leaning against it. He was wearing stained blue coveralls only halfway up with the sleeves tied around his waist to keep them from sagging down. He wore a tight fitting white t-shirt with the short sleeves rolled up to his shoulders. The muscles in his arms flexed as he cleaned his hands and forearms with a small towel. His hair was messy and coming out of its usual hold of hairspray. And to top it off Blaine noticed a few smudges of dark grease on Kurt’s usually porcelain smooth face.

Blaine’s jaw dropped at the sight of him. He had never seen Kurt in any other state than perfectly put together. Not a hair out of place. Bowties, button-ups, skinny jeans, the works. He loved Kurt’s fashion sense. Of course he did. Kurt expressed himself through his clothes, so saying he did not like the way he dressed would just be another way of saying he didn’t like Kurt and that was too insane to even think about. Because boy did he like Kurt.

But there was something about this look, Kurt’s soft voice, his smooth skin and the elegant way he moved in contrast with the harsh environment of the shop, the dirt, and smell of motor oil, that made Blaine feel funny in his chest (and maybe in some other places too but he tried not to think about that right now!). Blaine felt like Kurt should look out of place here. But the opposite was true. Kurt looked downright at home in the shop and also like something straight out of Blaine’s fantasies. Kurt looked so.. traditionally masculine? Hot. He looked hot.

“Blaine?” Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow when Blaine didn’t finish his sentence and just stared at him. “Are you alright?”

“I- Yeah I eh... I’m- I...” Blaine stammered. “Hi,” he finally managed to get out.

Kurt chuckled a bit, put the towel down on a shelf and walked towards Blaine. “What is it?”

“I- It’s just.. you look-“

“Ugh, I know. I look gross. I promise I’ll change before our date. I didn’t mean for you to see me like this.” He gestured at his appearance.

“No!” Blaine practically yelled.

Kurt looked very confused. “No?”

“I mean, no, you look good! You look great actually,” Blaine said and could feel heat rising in his cheeks.

“Really..?” Kurt said in a judging tone. “Blaine. I am a mess...”

“A fucking hot mess if you ask me” Blaine muttered with a seductive grin.

Kurt snorted but his cheeks turned slightly pink at the flirty compliment “You like this?” He asked.

“Eh, YES! God, look at you! You look like you’ve just come from a photoshoot for a car commercial.”

“You are unbelievable,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes fondly. “Everyday I try to put the most amazing outfits together and the one time you see me when I look positively disgusting, you can’t take your eyes off me.”

“Kurt, you know I love the way you dress. But this? Now? God you look hot. You look so strong and rugged and sexy and...” Blaine was eying Kurt up and down while tracing his hands over Kurt’s arms. “Please, kiss me.”

“But you will get all greasy if I kiss you now,” Kurt quipped, but he put his arms loosely on Blaine’s shoulders anyways. Blaine noticed they weren’t completely grease free yet but he found he didn’t actually care about getting dirty anymore.

“Grease me up baby,” Blaine said with a big smile on his face, putting his hands on Kurt’s waist. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, Blaine could feel the warmth of Kurt’s skin.

Kurt chuckled a little in disbelief before leaning in, kissing Blaine softly. But, the second their lips touched a low moan emerged from Blaine’s throat. Blaine’s grip tightened on Kurt’s shirt pulling him closer.

“Oh wow, you really do like this, huh?” Kurt said breaking them apart.

Blaine hummed appreciatively, chasing Kurt’s lips “Wasn’t that obvious?” he breathed, clutching Kurt’s shirt. “So sexy.”

Kurt looked at him questioningly at first, but when he looked into Blaine’s eyes he saw nothing but want. A dark twinkle appeared in Kurt’s eyes and he grabbed Blaine, pulling him towards a nearby car. Blaine was more than happy to be led and followed Kurt eagerly. Kurt pressed Blaine against the car. Once trapped between the car and Kurt, Blaine pressed his mouth back on Kurt’s. Pulling him as close as he could. Kurt’s weight was pressing down on him from head to toe. And Blaine couldn’t help noticing that their hips were pressed together as well.

Kurt put his hand against Blaine’s cheek and had the other pressed against his chest. He started to move against Blaine just a little. But it was enough to shoot fire through Blaine’s entire body. His hands moved over Kurt’s sides and back pulling on his shirt. God this feels good!

“No making out in the shop!” A loud voice pierced the silence in the garage.

Kurt quickly pushed himself away from Blaine. Frantically trying to straighten his t-shirt. “Dad!” He shouted indignantly.

“Rules are rules, kiddo. If Finn’s not allowed to make out here, neither are you.” Burt said before turning to a very disheveled looking Blaine “Evening, Blaine,” he said with a smirk.

“Mr Hummel- Burt! Hello! I am so sorry, sir! I- we didn’t-“

Burt started laughing heartily. “Don’t worry about it kid.”

Blaine turned scarlet and gave Burt a small, but grateful smile.

“I came to tell you, you were free to go, Kurt. But it looks like you took that liberty yourself,” Burt teased.

“Right.. thanks dad. I think Blaine and I are gonna go then.”

“Thanks for the help today, Kurt. You’re very valuable to have around at the shop.”

The smile on Kurt’s face grew. “You’re welcome. Happy to help,” he said to his dad before he turned back to Blaine. “Come on, let's go to my place; I need to change. As much as you might like this look, I am NOT going out to dinner in coveralls, covered in grease!” He winked at Blaine, took his hand, and pulled him to Blaine’s car.

Blaine ducked his head laughing to himself a little. “Of course.”

Once inside Blaine’s car, Blaine felt Kurt looking at him.

“What?”

“Should we talk about what happened in there?”

“I don’t know? What would you wanna talk about?”

“You having a grease monkey fetish and me grinding up on you in my dad’s shop, maybe?”

Laughing out loud for a second Blaine cleared his throat and responded, “Ehm, I guess I just like it when you take control like that. Especially when you look like,” he gestured at Kurt’s outfit, “that. Honestly, Kurt, you look like you came from a fucking porno magazine.”

Kurt lifted his chin up a little, his cheeks turning pink again. “Hmm, good to know. I suppose I liked it too. Feels nice to be wanted like that. I guess I never really had that before. Nor did I expect anyone to ever feel like that about me.” He smiled softly at Blaine. “You don’t look half bad yourself by the way. I didn’t really have a chance to tell you yet.”

“Thank you,” Blaine answered with a returned smile. “Let's go then, shall we?”

“Please. I wanna get out of these clothes!”

They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

#glee #klaine #glee fanfiction #klaine fanfiction #Kurt hummel #Blaine anderson #my fics #my art #grease monkey

160 notes · View notes

80srichie · 4 years ago

Text

just a bet, part 9

30 days remaining

Richie woke up to his phone ringing with a start. It was Eddie calling him. He missed the answer button a few times since he wasn’t wearing his glasses. “Hello?”

“Richie! Good morning.” Eddie was talking cheerfully.

“What time is it?” Richie asked, rolling over on his bed to grab his glasses off his nightstand.

“11 A.M.” Eddie replied, then paused. “Did I wake you?”

Richie snickered a little. “Yes.”

“Well, good, you should be up anyway. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out today? My mom is visiting her sister.”

Richie paused for a moment, stretching out his arms and legs. “Well, toots, I’d be delighted.”

Eddie laughed a little. “Okay, well, get over here after you shower and all that. Please brush your teeth, Rich.”

Richie pouted, even though Eddie couldn’t see him. “Are you implying my breath stinks?”

Eddie laughed again. “Yes. See you soon.”

Richie heard the telltale beeps of an ended call and he put his phone down. He stretched again, finally standing up out of bed. He grabbed a new pair of boxers and headed into the bathroom to shower. Richie more than thoroughly washed his body, purely for the sake of Eddie, and brushed his teeth afterward. He threw on a shirt and some pants, not bothering to make his hair look presentable. He was out the door within the hour Eddie called him.

When Richie arrived, Eddie had already opened the door and was ushering him inside. Eddie seemed very upbeat and excited. “What’s going on with you, huh? Excited to see me or something?” Richie teased.

Eddie smiled. “You could say that. I was making lunch and I got a perfect idea and you get to taste test it!”

Richie raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? You can’t taste it yourself?”

Eddie frowned a little. “I can! I just want another opinion, asshole.”

Richie smiled, nudging him with his shoulder and bringing him close to him. “I will try anything you make for me, Eds.” He paused, “even your.. bodily fluids…”

Eddie shoved Richie off of him. “You are disgusting and I hate you. I thought you were being sweet.”

Richie scoffed, feigning hurt. “I was Eddie Spaghetti. That was endearing.”

Eddie made a face. “Your definition of endearing is very wrong.” He turned back to the stove, grabbing a wooden spoon and stirring something in a metal pot. “Anyway, come here. I want you to try this.”

Richie leaned over Eddie to peer into the pot, a red sauce lightly simmering. Richie took the wooden spoon from him and sipped a little sauce off the utensil. It was a sweet and spicy tomato sauce. “That’s good, Eds! What is it for?”

Eddie smiled and took the lid and placed it back on the pot, turning the heat on the stovetop down. “Ironically, spaghetti. Unless you’d rather have a rotini or penne pasta, that’s an option too. I didn’t know what pasta shape you liked but thinking about it now, it probably would be something like a bowtie.”

Richie chuckled. “I appreciate the consideration you took into my pasta shape preference, but honestly, I’ll eat anything.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I know that Richie, you eat everything. I just want you to actually like it.” He put another pot on the stove with water in it, turning on the other stovetop to boil the water.

Richie smiled, feeling his heart swell with affection. “You’re going to be the death of me.” He paused for a few moments, before continuing. “Of food poisoning, of course.”

Eddie groaned as he put the box of spaghetti noodles on the counter to await the other pot to boil. “You can’t just compliment me normally, can you?” He turned, staring at Richie with a small grin on his lips. “You’re the worst.”

Richie smiled widely, reaching forward and pulling Eddie towards him by his hips. Their height difference was clearer this way and it was Richie’s favorite. Being able to look down on Eddie and see his innocent brown eyes stare back up at him - it was heavenly. “Eddie…” He started, wetting his strangely dry lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Eddie bit his bottom lip to cry and contain the smile that yeared to appear. “Depends, did you brush your teeth as I asked?”

Richie chuckled, already leaning down to meet Eddie halfway, mumbling out a yes that was muffled by their lips connecting. They fit together seamlessly. Both of them had wordlessly learned each other’s favorite ways to kiss and it never ceased to amaze Richie just how easily their lips fit together. Their first kiss was messy and off-kilter, but every one after that continued to get better and better.

Eddie pulled back after a moment, staring up into Richie’s eyes before taking his hand and sliding it up the back of his neck. Eddie’s hand tangled into Richie’s unruly curls and gently tugged, pulling him back down for a deeper kiss. Eddie had gotten increasingly more forward as time went on and as they both got more comfortable with each other. Richie loved it.

The two of them spent a good few minutes kissing before Eddie, lips a bit swollen, pulled back and detached himself from Richie. “I have to put the pasta in the water.”

Richie made a noise of dissatisfaction but let him go, watching as he dumped the entire box of noodles into the now boiling water. The meal itself was done not soon after, two bowls of perfectly sauced and portioned spaghetti sitting in front of the both of them. They ate in comfortable silence before Richie spoke up. “Hey, Eds, I have a game tomorrow. You’re coming, right?”

Eddie smiled softly, wiping off his mouth with his napkin and setting his fork in his empty bowl. “If you’d like me to.”

Richie nodded. “Of course, I love seeing you in the stands. I always play better knowing a hot guy is watching me.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes and stood, picking up his bowl and taking Richie’s as well.

“Hey! I wasn’t done.” Richie protested.

Eddie laughed a bit. “I know, dickhead. I’ll put the leftovers in a container but my Mom will be home soon, so…” He trailed off, letting Richie fill in the rest on his own. He watched as Eddie put the extra spaghetti in a Tupperware and closed the lid, handing it back when he was done.

Richie took it from him with a smile. “You’re practically my perfect housewife. House… husband?”

Eddie blinked at him, intentionally not playing into his joke. “Uh-huh... Okay, bye, Rich.” He ushered him to the front door and left him outside with a peck to his lips. Once Richie got home, he checked his phone for the first time since that morning and noticed he had multiple texts from Stan, as well as a missed call. He pushed Stan’s number and held it up to his ear. It only rang a few times before Stan picked up with a sigh. “Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

Richie shrugged, laying down on his back on his bed. “I was with Eddie. Why? What’s going on?”

Stan paused for a few seconds. “I wanted to talk about Eddie, actually.”

Richie sat up, looking at the ground in confusion. “Why?” He could hear Stan talking to someone in the background, as well as some shuffling before Stan spoke again.

“I think this has gone too far. The bet.”

Richie scoffed. “I did try to say that like, a month ago, Stan. Why are you bringing it up now?”

Stan sighed again. “You’re going to hurt him if you continue with this and you know it. It’s not fair to him, or you, for that matter.”

Richie took a moment to process what Stan was saying. “Stan, I don’t know if I haven’t made it clear enough, but I like him for real. Like, seriously, genuinely have feelings for him.” The line was uncomfortably silent. “Stan?”

“Okay. How are you going to tell him why you went after him in the first place?”

Richie frowned. “I don’t fuckin’ know! Unless you have an idea, I have no intention of telling him until it’s on my deathbed.”

Stan exhaled dejectedly. “You have to at some point.” He pointed out.

“I know,” Richie groaned. “I know and I will, so, just let me deal with it. Why did you call me anyway?”

Stan clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “No reason, I suppose. Is he going to be at the game tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Stan said and took a few beats before continuing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Without another word, Stan hung up the phone, the line going to dead static on Richie’s end. He pulled the phone back from his ear and stared at the screen, frowning.

The night of Richie’s soccer game was uncharacteristically chilly, most patrons wearing hoodies or light jackets to cover themselves from the cold. It was nearing the end of Fall and the Fall soccer season, so Eddie came prepared. He stood among the rest of the audience in the stands, his hands balled up inside the sleeves of his hoodie and tucked into the front pocket to keep warm. He was rocking back and forth on his heels, watching the soccer game in front of him. Since he had started dating Richie, the rules of soccer started to make more sense. He could easily name the different positions and even knew some of the penalties and why they were called. Half-time had just been called when he felt someone tap him on his shoulder. Eddie turned, a bit startled. “Oh, sorry, hi, Bill. You scared me.”

Bill offered him a friendly smile. “H-Hey, Eddie, can we talk real quick?” He jutted his thumb over his shoulder to a grassy area beside the bleachers that was mostly empty, apart from a man and his dog.

Eddie glanced back at the game and nodded. “Yeah, sure, I just wanna get back before the game starts back up.”

Bill nodded in agreement, leading Eddie down to the area he had pointed to, the man and his dog moved on from the area, leaving the two of them alone. “So, um, what’s up?” Eddie asked, bouncing on his feet to keep himself warm.

Bill wrung his hands together anxiously and Eddie waited patiently with a confused smile on his face. “You okay?” He eventually asked.

Bill nodded. “Yeah, I juh-just don’t know how to p-phrase it.” He let out a long sigh before talking again. “I… I like you, E-Eddie.”

Eddie’s friendly smile dropped from his face, hating the way his stomach clenched uncomfortably. “Um…”

Bill continued before Eddie had the chance to talk. “I h-have for a good wh-while, too.”

Eddie managed to crack an uneasy grin. “Uh, Bill…” He laughed awkwardly. “You... Why are you telling me this?”

Bill frowned. “Because I wa-wanted you to know, a-and I think y-you deserve better than Richie.”

It was Eddie’s turn to frown now. “I don’t think you have a say in that.” He mumbled, taking a step back towards the stands. “If that’s all, I’m going to-”

“Wait!” Bill reached out, grabbing Eddie’s arm.

Eddie gently pulled back from his touch. “Sorry, Bill, I have to get back to wa-”

Bill grimaced. “No! There’s something you need to know.” When Eddie made no move to leave, Bill sighed and spoke. “Richie never liked you.”

Eddie laughed. “Okay, Bill, seriously? We have been together for a good few weeks, I would know if-”

“He’s dating you because of a bet, Eddie!” Bill exploded. “It was Beverly’s idea and Stan knows about it too - He hasn’t told you yet because you guys haven’t slept together and that was part of the deal.”

Eddie’s movements faltered, his body growing colder as Bill spoke. “What?” He asked, shaking his head. “No, you’re making that up. He told me the bet Beverly was talking about had to-”

“-do with Stan. He lied. She was talking about you, Eddie, she always was. Richie’s been lying.”

Eddie let out a shaky breath, turning his back to Bill and facing the field. He could see Richie jogging towards them and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “No… You have to be lying.”

Richie approached them, smiling at Eddie. His smile faltered, though, when he saw the look on his face. “Eds? Bill? What’s going on?”

Eddie felt his tears prick with tears. “Tell me he’s lying, Richie. Tell me right now.”

Richie was alarmed. “Lying about what?” He turned to Bill. “What did you tell him?” He demanded.

Bill stood his ground. “The truth.”

Eddie was staring at Richie, his eyes burning from oncoming tears. “Did you date me… Are you dating me, for a fucking bet, Richie? You told me Beverly was talking about you and Stan.”

Richie’s face fell, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. “Eds-”

“Tell me!” Eddie cried, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Richie’s jersey and shaking him a bit. “Tell me right now.”

Richie could feel his entire life fading in front of him. “You have to let me explain.”

Eddie abruptly dropped his hold on Richie’s jersey and took a step back, tears finally finding their way out of Eddie’s eyes and rolling down his cheeks. “You promised me, Richie.”

Richie tried to close the gap between them, but Eddie pushed him away. “Don’t!”

Richie couldn’t breathe, his world was spinning anxiously around him. He felt like he could get sick right here. “Eddie, please, let me explain. It will make sense, I promise, none of this was fake!”

Eddie scoffed, using his sleeve to wipe away the tears pilling under his eyelashes. “You’re so full of shit. I can’t believe I trusted you, you stupid fucking asshole.” Eddie’s voice was laced with malice and regret; It made Richie’s heart hurt more. Bill made a move towards Eddie, and he backed up from him as well. “I don’t want to fucking talk to you, either.” He threatened, sniffing and glaring at Richie. “If it wasn’t clear, do not ever fucking call me, text me, speak to me again.” With that, Eddie was gone, disappearing around the backside of the bleachers and into the poorly lit school parking lot.

Richie stood there, shocked and heartbroken, before turning to Bill. “What the fuck did you do?” He asked angrily, moving towards him.

“I-I told him the truth!” Bill said, backing up a bit. “He d-deserves better than you, R-Richie, and you know it!”

Richie pushed Bill harshly by his shoulders. It all clicked. “Oh, and you’re much better?” He pushed him again, Bill falling into the wired fence behind him. “You are a selfish fucking prick, Denbrough, and I’ll make sure everyone fucking knows.”

Bill stood there, leaning against the fence. “Everyone already thinks you are, Richie.” He said, pushing past him to leave, heading the same way Eddie had gone.

Richie stood alone in the grassy area, attempting to calm his rapid thoughts of anger. Bill told Eddie and Eddie believed him and now he was gone. Richie knew he needed to tell Eddie himself but he couldn’t find any time that would have gone better.

Someone approached Richie from behind, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Richie?” It was Stan.

Richie pulled away from his touch. “It was your idea, wasn’t it?”

Stan blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Bill telling Eddie! It was you, wasn’t it? You put the thought in Bill’s head so he would end this stupid bet!”

Stan frowned. “Bill did what? Eddie knows?”

“Yes!” Richie cried. “Eddie fucking knows! Do you see him here, Stan, huh?”

Stan grimaced at Richie’s yelling. “I didn’t tell Bill to do anything. He had a crush on Eddie-”

“Isn’t that fucking sweet,” Richie mumbled, moving past Stan to chase after Eddie. He was going to make things right, he was going to explain himself.

“What about the game?” Stan asked and Richie nearly exploded.

“I don’t give a fuck about anything but Eddie right now, Stan! Isn’t that obvious?”

Stan nodded his head. “Just tell the truth. Tell him how you’ve always felt, Richie, he needs words.”

Richie stared at him for a few beats, before turning to walk away without another word.

30 days remaining

Richie woke up to his phone ringing with a start. It was Eddie calling him. He missed the answer button a few times since he wasn’t wearing his glasses. “Hello?”

“Richie! Good morning.” Eddie was talking cheerfully.

“What time is it?” Richie asked, rolling over on his bed to grab his glasses off his nightstand.

“11 A.M.” Eddie replied, then paused. “Did I wake you?”

Richie snickered a little. “Yes.”

“Well, good, you should be up anyway. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out today? My mom is visiting her sister.”

Richie paused for a moment, stretching out his arms and legs. “Well, toots, I’d be delighted.”

Eddie laughed a little. “Okay, well, get over here after you shower and all that. Please brush your teeth, Rich.”

Richie pouted, even though Eddie couldn’t see him. “Are you implying my breath stinks?”

Eddie laughed again. “Yes. See you soon.”

Richie heard the telltale beeps of an ended call and he put his phone down. He stretched again, finally standing up out of bed. He grabbed a new pair of boxers and headed into the bathroom to shower. Richie more than thoroughly washed his body, purely for the sake of Eddie, and brushed his teeth afterwards. He threw on a shirt and some pants, not bothering to make his hair look presentable. He was out the door within the hour Eddie called him.

When Richie arrived, Eddie had already opened the door and was ushering him inside. Eddie seemed very up-beat and excited. “What’s going on with you, huh? Excited to see me or something?” Richie teased.

Eddie smiled. “You could say that. I was making lunch and I got the perfect idea and you get to taste test it!”

Richie raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? You can’t taste it yourself?”

Eddie frowned a little. “I can! I just want another opinion, asshole.”

Richie smiled, nudging him with his shoulder and bringing him close to him. “I will try anything you make for me, Eds.” He paused, “even your.. bodily fluids…”

Eddie shoved Richie off of him. “You are disgusting and I hate you. I thought you were being sweet.”

Richie scoffed, feigning hurt. “I was Eddie Spaghetti. That was endearing.”

Eddie smiled and took the lid and placed it back on the pot, turning the heat on the stovetop down. “Ironically, spaghetti. Unless you’d rather have a rotini or penne pasta, that’s an option too. I didn’t know what pasta shape you liked, but thinking about it now, it probably would be something like a bowtie.”

Richie chuckled. “I appreciate the consideration you took into my pasta shape preference, but honestly, I’ll eat anything.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I know that, Richie, you eat everything. I just want you to actually like it.” He put another pot on the stove with water in it, turning on the other stovetop to boil the water.

Richie smiled, feeling his heart swell with affection. “You’re going to be the death of me.” He paused for a few moments, before continuing. “Of food poisoning, of course.”

Eddie bit his bottom lip to cry and contain the smile that yeared to appear. “Depends, did you brush your teeth like I asked?”

The two of them spent a good few minutes kissing before Eddie, lips a bit swollen, pulled back and detached himself from Richie. “I have to put the pasta in the water.”

Richie made a noise of dissatisfaction but let him go, watching as he dumped the entire box of noodles into the now boiling water. The meal itself was done not soon after, two bowls of perfectly sauced and portioned spaghetti sitting in front of the both of them. They ate in a comfortable silence, before Richie spoke up. “Hey, Eds, I have a game tomorrow. You’re coming, right?”

Eddie smiled softly, wiping off his mouth with his napkin and setting his fork in his empty bowl. “If you’d like me to.”

Richie nodded. “Of course, I love seeing you in the stands. I always play better knowing a hot guy is watching me.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes and stood, picking up his bowl and taking Richie’s as well.

“Hey! I wasn’t done.” Richie protested.

Richie took it from him with a smile. “You’re practically my perfect housewife. House… husband?”

Eddie blinked at him, intentionally not playing into his joke. “Uh huh.. Okay, bye, Rich.” He ushered him to the front door and left him outside with a peck to his lips. Once Richie got home, he checked his phone for the first time since that morning and noticed he had multiple texts from Stan, as well as a missed call. He pushed Stan’s number and held it up to his ear. It only rang a few times before Stan picked up with a sigh. “Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

Richie shrugged, laying down on his back on his bed. “I was with Eddie. Why? What’s going on?”

Stan paused for a few seconds. “I wanted to talk about Eddie, actually.”

Richie sat up, looking at the ground in confusion. “Why?” He could hear Stan talking to someone in the background, as well as some shuffling, before Stan spoke again.

“I think this has gone too far. The bet.”

Richie scoffed. “I did try to say that like, a month ago, Stan. Why are you bringing it up now?”

Stan sighed again. “You’re going to hurt him if you continue with this and you know it. It’s not fair to him, or you, for that matter.”

“Okay. How are you going to tell him why you went after him in the first place?”

Richie frowned. “I don’t fuckin’ know! Unless you have an idea, I have no intention of telling him until it’s on my deathbed.”

Stan exhaled dejectedly. “You have to at some point.” He pointed out.

“I know,” Richie groaned. “I know and I will, so, just let me deal with it. Why did you call me anyways?”

Stan clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “No reason, I suppose. Is he going to be at the game tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Stan said and took a few beats before continuing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Without another word, Stan hung up the phone, the line going to dead static on Richie’s end. He pulled the phone back from his ear and stared at the screen, frowning.

Bill offered him a friendly smile. “H-Hey, Eddie, can we talk really quick?” He jutted his thumb over his shoulder to a grassy area beside the bleachers that was mostly empty, apart from a man and his dog.

Eddie glanced back at the game and nodded. “Yeah, sure, I just wanna get back before the game starts back up.”

Bill wrung his hands together anxiously and Eddie waited patiently with a confused smile on his face. “You okay?” He eventually asked.

Bill nodded. “Yeah, I juh-just don’t know how to p-phrase it.” He let out a long sigh before talking again. “I… I like you, E-Eddie.”

Eddie’s friendly smile dropped from his face, hating the way his stomach clenched uncomfortably. “Um…”

Bill continued before Eddie had the chance to talk. “I h-have for a good wh-while, too.”

Eddie managed to crack an uneasy grin. “Uh, Bill…” He laughed awkwardly. “You.. Why are you telling me this?”