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ollypopwrites · 8 months ago

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Dinner and Diatribes;

Gale x F!Tav (she/her, AFAB) [note: references to the fact Tav is Curvy but there’s no descriptors on her appearance besides what she’s wearing]

Summary: Gale gets his perfect night in Waterdeep.

Rating: M (18+ MDNI)

CW: smut (oral sex, PiV sex, fingering, slight overstim, references to Dom!Gale but he doesn’t actually make an appearance this time), insecurity, General Mystra Warning, L-bombs

Word count: 4.5k

Notes: this was originally written with my SorcBard Tav in mind. They end up together post-game and Tav and Gale have not been with each other physically as of yet.

Read on Ao3

Tav appraised her appearance one last time, nerves bubbling up in her when she knew there ought not to be any. She was having dinner with Gale, not a stranger.

Yet, she tugged at the lacy sleeves of her tunic, the cream colored fabric dangling off her shoulders and belling at the sleeves. Her breasts were up and out, figure tucked and smoothed by the sturdy corset she wore. The wrap skirt, slit at the leg with stockings underneath, was periwinkle, hugged her hips and showed some skin. She had wanted to veer away from the normally shapeless practicality of the protective gear she wore throughout their journey.

And she found the delicate pale blue embroidery against the white fabric of the garment to be quite pretty, the silk bows that served as sleeves made her think of romantic ballads. She felt delight at wearing something pretty without thinking of practicality for the first time since being taken by the nautiloid. There was a novelty to sitting down to take time to get ready for something fun rather than something that could potentially end with blood and death.

Her eyes drifted over to the corner of the room that until recently had housed a small altar to the Mother of Magic.

In its place was a vase of flowers, Tav’s favorite colors and blooms, which had appeared that morning. The altar itself had mysteriously disappeared the day after they first arrived in Waterdeep. Neither of them had said anything about it, but she knew he had seen her staring at the dusty offerings and long burnt incense laid at the feet of an idol of his former lover.

With one last look in the mirror she bolstered herself. She was no goddess but she had defeated a Vampire Lord, undead generals, a 200 year curse, hordes of goblins and a Netherbrain. That had to count for something.

Taking a deep breath she left through the bedroom door, and was met by Gale.

Well, Gale’s double. A projection, as he was often fond of using.

“Greetings! I am here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep!”

“Oh, are you?” She asked sarcastically.

“I am indeed!”

Sarcasm was not translated into the projection it seemed.

“If you are ready for the evening to begin, please say so, if not, I shall await your confirmation.”

Tav smiled a little, “I’m ready.”

“Please follow me.”

She followed him down to the same level as the study, and she found herself confused. They were meant to be having dinner. The whole package, she had recalled, he wanted to wine and dine her. She expected to be escorted to the dining room, not the study.

The door was closed, and the projection gave a polite bow to signal its leave. Should she knock? Uncertain, she gripped the door handle and opened the door.

Immediately she was confronted with a wave of unfamiliar smells. Normally the study smelt like the fireplace, leather of bound books, ink and slight sea air from the terrace. Instead this smelled of savory food, crisp night air, and heavy sea spray. The entry was draped by lavish silk curtains hiding any view of the room, tassels and embroidered prints creating lovely textures.

Gale stood waiting for her arrival.

His hair was pulled back and pinned neatly in his new fashion of a small bun at the back of his head. He wore a white tunic, billowed sleeves and a jerkin of sapphire blue, embroidered intricately with bronze filigree. Dark blue breeches, and what looked to be blue shoes which matched his vest.

It also looked as if he had trimmed his beard, the lines smooth and incredibly sleek. Tav had certainly noticed how handsome he was during their travels, and even then he was always somewhat genteel despite the rugged conditions.

This was different. He seemed more in his element like this, maybe not quite so formally dressed, but she could imagine this was the Gale Dekarios which caught the eye of a Goddess. Confident, gentlemanly and remarkably good looking.

His eyes lit up at the sight of her.

“Hello,” she said, aware how nervous and jittery her voice was despite her smile.

“Hello,” Gale grinned. “You look… exquisite.”

She blushed. “And you look very good in blue.”

Gale kissed her cheek, and she gripped his face to make sure he kissed her properly. “I’ve prepared everything,” he said. “Are you ready?”

“For you? Always.”

Like a true gentleman, he offered her his arm and she accepted. They walked through the fabric barrier and Tav audibly gasped at the transformation. The study was changed, made to look like an enchanting garden. Lit up by candelabras, framed by arches made of vines and flowers of every color imaginable, it was beautiful.

The view from the terrace had been expanded, so that from every angle a clear view of the glittering lights of Waterdeep glinted. The entire mirage was topped with a star filled sky and the moon hanging at the horizon of the water. She could feel a breeze, not too cold but carrying the scent of the ocean.

A table sat at the center, intimate, and music was playing from some unseen source. Most likely the enchanted piano. Where she knew the terrace was, his couch still stood, overlooking the view. The sounds coming through beyond the music were real, she could tell. It was simultaneously an illusion and blissfully real.

He led her to the table, pulled out her chair for her and then sat across from her. The smile on her face was starting to hurt her cheeks, only emphasized by another Gale projection bringing them wine. They toasted each other and she looked out on the view of the city.

“Do you like it?” He sounded uncertain.

Her hand came out to grab his across the table. “It’s hard to describe, but like isn’t a strong enough word.” She glanced over to the projection of Gale waiting to be summoned for any need they may have, “although I think the waiter fancies me.”

“I applaud his taste.”

It was very clear how meticulously planned the night had been. From the food to the wine, Gale had an exuberant explanation for his choices. For a moment Tav wondered why she would be nervous at all; they had shared every meal together for months. But, Tav knew that this was the courtship he had wanted to offer her, this was the night he wished he could have given her when he thought it was his last back on the road to Moonrise.

Gale, if he was nervous, did not show it. Instead his eyes glinted with excitement, eagerness, and delight. His gaze was so intense on her, she felt like either the wine or something else was making her brain fuzzy.

After dinner they danced, slow uncomplicated movements to the music from the piano for a while, and then settled onto the settee looking out at the water. The night sky was clear, the breeze from the bay adding a bit of chill that balanced out the warmth she felt from the wine. It was a beautiful tapestry of midnight blue and silver of the moon and stars.

She leaned against him half draped over his lap as her legs stretched out, fingers dancing over his palm which lay in her lap. His other hand gently danced over her arm and down her side. She thought she may melt at the warmth of his lips pressed against her bare shoulder, beard softly scratching as he lingered there.

“You ought to be careful, Gale.”

“Oh? What dangers lurk that I am unaware of?”

“The danger of spoiling me rotten,” she chuckled.

“I’m not averse to such a risk,” he nuzzled behind her ear, “quite the opposite, really. You deserve it, and more.”

Her mind rolled over that, heart full at his earnestness as usual. Even if she didn’t believe it, he certainly did.

“Thank you,” she said thoughtfully after a moment. “This night has been so wonderful.”

“It’s not over yet,” he whispered.

A shiver ran down her spine. No words finding their way to her lips.

“If I may be so bold,” he went on, “I’d like to partake in dessert somewhere more private.”

“Tell me, Chef Dekarios, what is on the dessert menu tonight?”

“You,” he said, a grin evident in his voice. “I’d have laid you across the dinner table if I hadn’t promised us both a bed first and foremost. You truly are a temptress,” his hand broke from her loving grasp to run along the curve of her neck, and shoulder, fingers trailing over the tops of her breasts before cupping her chin, “you incite such an insatiable hunger, even when you are doing nothing more than sitting there across from me. If you’ll allow it, I’d like to finally have a taste.”

Tav’s head tipped back, eyes closed as her skin began to flush and her heart began to thud in her chest. “I’ll allow anything you want,” she breathed. “Name it, it’s yours.”

“Tav,” he murmured.

“Yours.” She repeated.

A tug in her stomach and the strange shift of moving through the weave happened so suddenly, she opened her eyes, confused by her new surroundings. She was on her feet, Gale behind her still, but in the bedroom, no longer shrouded by lovely blue night sky but the warmth of a candle lit room and the familiar walls.

Gale murmured something, and then spun her around to kiss her. Needy, fervent meetings of lips, and tongues. Her fists curled into the fabric of his sleeves, and his settled on either side of her face. She felt a tugging at her back, then the cool brush of an unseen hand. He had conjured a mage hand to untie her corset, the fingers pulling at the strings to loosen them.

Before it managed to get them all the way undone, she was fumbling with buttons on his vest. She shrugged the heavy corset off, the thud of it falling to the ground ignored as she pushed his own garment off his shoulders. Before he could distract her with his hands again, she untucked his shirt and pulled the fabric over his head.

Her fingers danced over his warm skin, feeling hair and scars and firm muscle beneath flesh. Gale groaned, bending to grip her by the generous flesh of her thighs to pull her up in his arms, for the quick journey to the bed where he set her down. Her tunic was tugged off, thrown aside and he grunted in displeasure at the thin cloth bandeau that still covered her breasts.

Tav chuckled, grabbing the scrap of fabric and pulling it overhead. Gale’s eyebrows hiked up at the sight of her tits out, heavy and round with already pebbled nipples, and under the scrutiny she felt doubt creep in.

“Not what you were hoping for?” It was half a joke, a deflection for the blush she knew was on her face, something to do besides wrap her arms around herself.

“Are you completely mad?” He finally met her eyes, looking offended. “May I?”

She nodded, only to be firmly guided onto her back as Gale put one knee between her thighs on the bed and leaned forward.

His hands grabbed, not fully able to grasp, even with hands larger than her own. “Soft,” he thought out loud to himself. “How are you so soft?”

“I-I don't know,” she hitched a breathy tone. “Ah, gentle please,” she gasped when he began pinching and rolling the peaks between his fingers, calloused fingers from years of spell work and a combined over-excited pinch both thrilling and overstimulating, “they’re very sensitive.”

“Very important information,” he murmured, running a thumb over one in a soothing motion that still made her gasp out loud. “I wonder…”

The thought trailed off as his mouth clasped around one nipple and Tav gave an undignified squeal as her hips rolled. Too many layers between her skirt and underclothes to provide her the relief she wanted, even with his knee between her thighs. Each brush of his finger over one, followed by a firm squeeze, made her twitch and the laving of his tongue had her letting out soft little moans.

Finally he pulled away, watching as his hands continued where he left off. One hand danced over her soft stomach, and slipped down towards the waistband of her skirt, tickling the skin there until she gasped a laugh. He pushed down her stockings, tugged her skirt off and looked one last time for approval before he slipped her under things down her legs.

For a moment, his eyes darted over her body. Despite the thrill of being at the center of such avid admiration, she felt the need to do something in the face of it. A conflicting moment of uncertainty, the apprehension of him seeing any flaw in her moving her to try distract him. Her fingers came up to grab, but he gently redirected her wrist to his lips.

“You are perfect beyond imagining,” he said.

“You’re a flatterer,” she breathed, her eyes avoiding his, as they trailed over his torso and to the bulge in his breeches.

“I reject that accusation,” he said, grabbing a pillow and tossing it onto the floor before he got to his knees upon it. “I’m an admirer of art.”

Tav rolled her eyes with a half laugh as she allowed her legs to be spread, heels set on the edge of the bed. He kissed each one as he set them where he wanted, beard scratching and tongue peaking out to taste.

She was a little in awe of him like this. His eyes dark, a slight smirk painted onto his face, softened only when he met her eyes and smiled at her. With his broad shoulders forcing her legs wider as he moved further between them, and his hair coming out of his once immaculate bun, she felt her throat run dry and a heat rush through her body as she admired him.

He stopped suddenly, and she met his look of intentional seriousness. “If you need me to stop,” he said, “say the word and we will.”

She nodded her head.

He kissed the inside of her thigh again, before his eyes slid down his hands massaging around her outer lips. She was wet, it had smeared her thighs, that she already knew. A gentle gasp pulled from her lungs as he took his time, rubbing and spreading her, the same look of deep focus on his face as when he was taken with an interesting tome.

Gale rubbed along the seam of her, before spreading her open and gently rubbing her clit. A choked sound emitted from her after he commented, “you’re soaked, my love.”

“All your doing, beloved,” she replied.

“I do love hearing that,” he grinned. “You’ll have to tell me what else I do to you.”

Any response died away when he licked a long stripe along her. The slightest groan came from him, and he began to work. It was agonizing heaven, the filthy sounds as he sucked and licked at her cunt and the way he gripped her thighs only enhancing the actual sensation of his mouth on her.

Half-formed thoughts kept slipping out of her mouth until only single words and whines were all she could muster. Her hands slid over his, and he laced them together, his efforts doubling after the gesture of affection. Her excitement was running so high, anticipation adding to arousal, that she knew she would not last long.

“Gale,” she breathed, “feels so good — so close —“

He never pulled away, just found what was making her legs writhe over his shoulders the most, what made her hips search for friction, and her breath spike. Her hands gripped his so both of them had a firm grip of her thighs, as she suddenly teetered over the edge, heavy waves of pleasure singing in her veins as he licked her through it.

Except once it passed, he did not pull away. It felt good, so she was not going to push him off, but she was sensitive. Each touch of his tongue on her clit felt like a shock through her whole being making her legs clamp around him. He let go of her hands and pushed her thighs apart again, she thought that alone had her ready to fall apart once more.

Relentless and yet somehow still controlled, he was singularly intent on making her come again. The sensation almost scared her as she greedily chanted for more, more, more in her head and maybe aloud, she couldn’t be sure. Gale was groaning into her, the firmness of his grip surprising her still. She wanted him inside of her.

“Please“ she started to beg, “fuck me.”

He gave a moan, the only time she felt him falter. “One more, my love,” he replied. A demand or a promise, maybe both. “Give me one more.”

He let his fingers work over her this time, still between her legs, watching each movement she made. For her credit, she kept her hips and legs from knocking him away, the rest of her body making up for it. Her back arched, she writhed and gripped the bedding beneath her like it was going to anchor her.

When Gale slipped a finger inside of her, easy enough that he tried a second, she went stiff. “Good?”

She nodded her head.

“Words, please, Tav,” he said gently. It occurred to her he may be asking after her wellbeing rather than to tease.

Either way, she loved the feeling in her brain at the idea of it being a demand. Of him tormenting her in the most beautiful way.

“Good!” She blurted out. “So fucking good.”

His mouth had expertly pulled her apart, but she was finding his fingers to be just as talented. She clamped down around the digits pushing in her as she felt herself falling to pieces.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Good, Tav…” when she opened her eyes, she was met with him staring at hers. As if he could read her mind, he went on talking, “come undone for me.”

Her whole being responded to the request, as if he had the ability to command her body with just a word. She writhed and rolled her hips as she came, a truly unrestrained string of cries that she knew were a bit too loud. Gale’s hand cupped her cunt, and she could feel the pulse of it against his hand — his face giving way to pure want as he moaned.

“Alright?” He asked after a moment.

“Would be better if I had you inside of me,”she teased, giddily.

“Minx,” he grumbled, coming to stand.

“Tease,”she shot back sitting up.

When she kissed him he tasted distinctly of her arousal, and somehow it made her heart skip a beat. Her tongue danced over his, hand trailing down his chest to the waistband of his breeches, untying as she went. Her hands slipped inside, grasping through his underclothes at the length of his cock, hard and tenting the fabric.

Gale gave a sinful groan, eyes shut tight and when she started to stroke his jaw went slack.

Tav chuckled, “feel good, my darling?”

“Too good,” he grunted, hand gripping her wrist tight. “It’s been… far too long since I’ve — erm, partaken in pleasure on this plane, so to speak.”

Tav frowned, contemplating that, her eyes drifting to the space where Mystra’s altar had once been then back to him. “That’s okay,” she said immediately. “I don’t care.”

“You might,” he replied, wry smile masking what she knew to be embarrassment creeping up on him, “when the night ends rather, prematurely.”

Tav shrugged. “Then we drink some wine and wait until you’re up to more,” she said casually tugging off the rest of his clothes. “I didn’t wait all this time to have you just once tonight anyway.”

Gale licked his lips, eyebrows twitching up in interest.

She tugged at his wrist, “lay back,” she guided him onto the bed, pushing him to sit with his back against the headboard. “We can go slow.”

Gale got comfortable, hands grabbing at her hips when she settled in his lap. Her fingers danced over the orbs mark, raised like a scar but looking almost inked in like a tattoo. The fervor had stalled just slightly, his cock still hard between them but no longer pulsing as it had in her hand.

“What would our friends say if they knew what you were hiding under those robes,” she mused, arms curling over his broad shoulders.

“I rather think I held my own on our intrepid journeys,” he said, sounding more like himself. “Aside from the creaky knees.”

“That you did,” she agreed. “I would have been lost without you.”

She kissed him, slowly and affectionately, as she lifted herself a bit. Her fingers danced down his body again, taking their time to admire the sturdiness he hid under his wizard robes day to day.

Finger nails scratched through the hair that trailed down his torso, and into the thicker patch between his legs. She gripped him again, and he moaned into her mouth, the kiss matching his needy grasp on the flesh of her hips.

Unable to help herself from teasing, she dragged the head of him through her folds, letting him feel how wet she was for him. His brow furrowed harshly.

As she lined him up and slowly sank down, she was torn between watching every minuscule change in his expression and closing her eyes to relish the perfect fit. He stopped kissing her, the shuddering breath he drew and the way his eyes started to roll back giving her that much more satisfaction.

Her own gasp filled the soundless space between them, walls fluttering at the intrusion. “Gods, you feel so good,” she whined.

Gale was speechless. Voice stolen by deep concentration, and then his eyes opened. For a singular moment Tav felt as if she was the only other person in the world, the pure look of awe and combined sharp focus of his attention made her feel ten feet tall.

How could anyone, goddess or not, take his sincere devotion for granted?

“Do you want me to move?”

“Not yet,” he whispered desperately. “Just — please, let me —“

He pulled her to him, bodies pressing at almost every point. His arms were a tight wrap around her, his cheek pressed against her forehead as she gave him gentle kisses along his neck. It felt not dissonant to their time in the astral, joined in every way, but this felt somehow more intimate. To hold him within her, and still have him hold her safely in his arms — a perfect balance she could hardly fathom.

“Kiss me,” Gale breathed. “Please.”

Tav did as asked, fingers tangled in his hair and very gently rocked her hips. He groaned, grip becoming bruising, pausing the kiss and then coming back to it again. Slowly she started to rock, then raise her hips and roll them forward until she was slowly bouncing, the slap of her skin meeting his filling the room.

Gale broke from the kiss, hands moving to the sides of her face. That same look, as if he had seen something beyond his wildest imaginings; focused, stunned and reverent. She never felt so loved in her life, she was certain.

As if she could will the same feeling into him, she pressed their foreheads together. She moaned, as he hit just right within her. Sensitive, eager and greedy she chased the sensation.

“I love you,” she gasped.

His expression crumpled, and he groaned grabbing her around the waist so she had to stop. She could feel his cock throbbing inside of her. “You are… you — I love you —“ he grunted. “Please, let me — feel you.”

She slowed her movements to a subtle rock, which rubbed against something in her that made her entire body seize up in intense sensation. He murmured affirmations to her, face buried in her hair, his hand grabbing at her ass to pull her back and forth.

“I have to feel it,” he said, need dripping from his tone, “buried in you, I must —“

Her mouth left sloppy kisses wherever she could leave them as she rutted against him. As another sweet peak approached she leaned back, bouncing just slightly to get what she needed. Gale’s eyes flicked down to her chest, to where they were joined, and back to her face. Her body started to pulse, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

It felt so good. The drag of him against her walls, the blunt intrusion as she rolled her hips. Whines fell from her lips, she closed her eyes to focus in on the sensation, head thrown back in ecstasy.

As she peaked her legs shook on either side of him, hips moving out of pure instinct for more as she felt herself tighten around him. Uncontrollable pulses, grabbing and sucking him as far as she could talk him and a gush of wetness that added deliciously lewd sounds.

Gale seemed to stop breathing for a moment, before something in him snapped. He grabbed her hips, and with bent knees and feet planted on the soft sheets began fucking up into her.

More ruthless than she had expected, desperate and selfish and needy. It was nearly enough to get her to the edge again. Grunts from somewhere in the back of his throat joined her shocked cries telling him ‘yes’ over and over again.

He watched as he disappeared inside of her, mouth open as he panted, and then finally he broke.

With a swiftness she didn’t expect he pulled out of her, but his arms came around in a caging embrace so he still rubbed against her wet folds. He whined, as his hips jerked without any sort of pattern, punctuated by the hot splashes of him coming. Sticky, wet and warm.

His body shuddered as it passed, but he did not let go of her as he caught his breath. When she lifted her head to look at him, his head was tilted back and eyes closed as he recovered. She kissed his cheek, and he opened one eye to look at her, a smile blooming on his lips.

“You’ve ruined me,” he muttered.

“And you enjoyed every moment.”

“‘Enjoyed.’” He repeated. “Very light way to put it.”

“Then how would you describe it?”

“Hm,” he breathed. “Having trouble thinking currently. I will get back to you.”

“Now that’s a real accomplishment,” Tav laughed. “I’ve rendered Gale of Waterdeep utterly speechless.”

He laughed, one eye peeking open again before he playfully kissed her on the cheek. As she nestled back into his arms, she knew they would have to break away soon to clean up the mess they had made. But for just a moment she cherished the sound of his heartbeat, calming down and steadying with his breath.

“The first of a thousand nights.” He murmured.

“Hopefully more.”

“I’ll have the rest of your nights, if you’ll allow it.”

“They’re yours.”

Thank you for reading! 💜

#bg3 fanfiction #baldur’s gate 3 fanfiction #gale x tav #gale dekarios x tav #gale of Waterdeep x Tav #bg3 gale fic #gale smut #gale fanfic

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maikissed · 2 months ago

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cherry flavoured lips

Kylian Mbappé x reader

summary: he stole from her a few of cherry flavoured kisses. would she forgive him? warnings: bit of sexy times I guess?

I honestly love it, probably there will be more parts

She felt exceedingly excited, gazing out of every window she passed as she moved around the house, checking every few minutes to see if her friend has already arrived. She must have looked a tad silly, but she truly hoped none of her family members noticed her stoked trot through the corridors. She was standing in the kitchen now, observing her mother’s process of cooking, the woman’s talking surrounding her, but the words blurred and incoherent. Breath stuck in her throat as she could hear the front door opening, she hoped it was not her father. Straightening from the counter slowly, she watched Kylian’s tall silhouette entering the room and she smiled at his presence. It was not such a very long time since she has saw him last, but she was always dazed by every change in him she could notice every time they met. It was like he seemed taller every time, or broader? Or maybe a little bit older and more mature and collected, the boyish aura fading in him, his features more sharp, his gaze surer, harder and confident. She stood still, letting her mother to smother him first.

“Kylian! Salut!” older lady called, her fingers covered in flour so she leaned into him, greeting their guest with two gentle kisses on both cheeks. “How you’ve been, darling?” she beamed looking up at him.

“Bonjour. I’m good, thank you. Happy to see you well" he smiled brightly at the tiny woman, his heart warmed at the fond greeting and his eyes travelled behind her for a second, noticing his lovely friend standing with her hands joined on the countertop, simply observing his interaction with her mom.

“Oh, we are so happy you made it!” her mother added “The dinner is not even close to be ready yet, but I’m on it” she laughed, circling the kitchen counter to resume her previous activity with the big heap of dough. Kylian of course had to comment on how delicious was the smell of the stew slowly boiling on the stove.

It was just before y/n approached him to pull him in a tight hug. He let out a quick laugh of contentment as they swayed a little in their embrace. Her smell coating him, he missed it.

“Are you getting even bigger, or is it your new oversized clothes style?” she joked leaning away in his arms.

He frowned funnily at her question, her voice slightly sarcastic.

“You love my style” he acknowledged, smirking at the roll of her eyes.

“It’s debatable” she stepped away from him, slapping him playfully on the arm.

He followed her outside to the spacious terrace with a view on the elegant and well-kept backyard and family’s vast area of apple and cherry orchards further away. He always enjoyed spring and summer here - fresh and full of sun, and most importantly quiet. But before he could revel in the sight of the lovely countryside, his gaze rested on her silhouette before him. Her back to him, she was saying something about one of his games – she was most likely making fun of him as she enjoyed so much – but his mind didn’t pay much attention to it. He was hypnotized by the way the end of the flounce of her dress was fluttering delicately with her every move, the material high on her legs, the dress was rather short, a lovely one. It was a hot day, she had every right to dress as comfortably as she liked and he was in no position to ogle his friend so shamelessly. It was inappropriate.

She smiled at him as they sat down. Did she ask him a question? No, he didn’t think so.

“I love the taste of the smell here” he commented looking around to see if anything changed since his last visit.

“Oh, yeah? Dad has too much free time lately and planted marigolds around the corner. They stink awfully” she scrunched her nose in disgust.

“Really? I thought it was the scent of your new perfume” he shrugged and there was too much seriousness in his features but she knew he was being ironic.

“Oh, wow, really funny” she snickered at his comment and there was a sound of a gentle chuckle coming from him.

“How is your dad?” he asked.

It has been few weeks since her father had a bad stroke, it was not the easiest times of her family’s lives. It has been one of the most stressful ones, she has been worried like never before, but she had Kylian’s support, even from the distance, even when he had more important things on his own mind. She appreciated it greatly.

“He’s much better, still has some troubles with bad cramps and stiff muscles but he’s working on it. He is at the rehabilitation right now” she shrugged, calmer now since the worst was behind them.

“I’m glad to hear it” he smiled softly at her.

She bend her legs at the knees and placed them on the big patio armchair behind her. The weather was pleasant, even warmer days were coming, the vision of the upcoming holidays looked to be wondrous and she hoped they could use more time here as they used to as children. But they had more responsibilities and their own activities, so much less time for each other as they grew older. But she was happy they at least could still meet like this from time to time. They still managed to make it.

Suddenly the doors to the terrace opened with a thud and she spotted her little sister approaching them. Her long hair a little messy, there was a wide smile plastered on her face.

“Kyky” Fleur announced, more than called, and wrapped her hands around Kylian’s shoulders to hug him, a sweet kiss placed on his cheek.

Her sister adored him from her earliest days. It was no surprise at all.

“Hello Fleur, how are you?” Kylian chuckled, taking her hand in his as she graciously circled the couch and sat beside him.

“Very well. I’m finishing the school year so there’s still much work for me to do, but few more classes and I’m starting my well deserved holidays” she grinned gazing up at him, Kylian exchanged a little amused smile with y/n.

Fleur was exceptionally mature and well-spoken for a kid her age. It could be infuriating at times, since she revelled in being a smart ass with her nose always in her books, but Kylian pinpointed that Fleur was a spite image of her older sister. And there was much truth into it, but y/n wasn’t so keen on admitting that.

“I’ve missed you, really” she sighed “Not as much as y/n, I suppose, but I have. She was literally checking the driveway every five minutes with hope that you’ve arrived” she grinned mischievously, sending a dangerous look in her sister’s direction. Y/n frowned. Fleur was a very evil child.

“Right” y/n cut in acting carelessly “Lemonade?” she leaned into the little table between them to pour them some.

“Kylian, this is the best time for you to visit us” Fleur declared, changing the subject and sitting on her knees to face him comfortably “I have a very important essay for my French class and I need some inspiration” Y/n’s eyes shot up, very curious about what kind of inspiration would she need now. Something football or sports related? She doubted. “And since my sisters emotional range is the size of a grain of sand and her heart is hollow and dry as a desert, and most likely dead” she punctuated the last word “I have thought I must ask you”.

Y/n choked on her cold lemonade and Kylian laughed softly, his eyes a little wide when he looked at his friend.

“Fleur” she complained sending her a questioning look, but her sister acted like she did not notice at all.

“Alright, ask away” he encouraged, not very much prepared for the upcoming question.

“Have you ever been in love?” if y/n took another sip of her sour lemonade she would most likely choke herself to death.

Kylian’s smile died a little but was still present on his face. One of his knees jumped up lightly and he looked like he considered his answer. Fleur was serious, expecting an answer from him, matter of fact y/n was waiting for it as well.

“Yes” a clear answer. He was looking at Fleur. She nodded. Y/n’s gaze focused on his face, examining his expressions, reminiscing his past girlfriends.

“How many times?” she continued.

“Uh” he stammered a little “Once”

“Interesting” Fleur announced, a spark in her eyes as there seemed to be a process of deep thinking in her hard working brain “You’ve had girlfriends, as in plural. So it means only one of them was the object of your true feelings?”

“Fleur” now y/n chastised her sister for prying too much into Kylian’s personal life. She placed her glass back on the table.

“What? Those are just harmless questions!”

But Kylian cut in:

“Answering your question Fleur: not exactly”

“What does it mean?” she seemed excited turning her head back to look at him.

“None of them was the object of my true feelings”

This answer surprised y/n. She didn’t know what answer she expected, they never talked much about their love lives, mostly it was the time when they weren’t keeping in touch so frequently. It was an odd subject, they never really knew how they felt about each other dating people. But they accepted it, because they were best friends, they did not own each other exclusively.

“Now, that complicates all” Fleur sighed resignedly “How could you be with someone you don’t love?” she asked almost accusingly, making Kylian bit his lip with perplexity.

“It’s like you said. Complicated” he stated, his knee bounced up once again. His expression soft, his gaze landing on y/n for a split second. Their eyes met.

“This love you mentioned at the start…” Fleur still kept digging “You fell out of it or is it present still?”

“Okay” y/n called, her voice firm “Fleur you’re being nosy. Go write your essay now, it should be enough, this big brain of yours can surely make up the rest of it” she sent her a chiding look.

“See” she nudged Kylian “Dead heart” her voice almost a whisper now.

Kylian sent her a lovely smile before she stood up, Fleur added something about games night before she left them, but there was too much burden on y/n mind to focus on anything now. She took a breath and tried to mute the race of thoughts inside of her. Kylian seemed relaxed.

“I think it’s the best time for a walk�� she started with a smirk “Wine or champagne?”

“In this weather, I’d say champagne” he answered calmly.

“Champagne it is” she stood up with intention to rummage through her father’s wine cellar.

They took off in the direction of the orchards, sun was about to set in about two hours, the evening aura of June coating them warmly as they strolled through the enormous tracts of cherry trees. The stillness and quietness of southern countryside brought him peace and calmness he yearned for amongst the noisiness and turmoil of all the cities he visited in just those last few weeks. Crickets chirping amongst the grass, frightened birds taking flight from the closest trees as they passed, some singing prettily in the distance. It was a lovely, cherished time. Any time they both stole something from the house they used to come here, to hide amongst the trees and talk, play and laugh for hours. At the beginning it was candy or ice cream before dinner, then beer and other alcoholic beverages as they grew older. Something to remember for years.

Now, a little tipsy from the alcohol they drank on their way here, they enjoyed each other’s presence. The bottle of champagne almost empty in Kylian’s hand. His head lighter, as he looked around, taking a big, cleansing breath. Y/n laughed about something and he looked at her, noticing her cheeks painted a sweet rosy colour. The most refreshing and calming amongst all those wondrous things was the sight of her. For him, she was a treasure, the most beautiful thing he could revel in. His fingers itched to grab her, touch her, make her laugh more, make her look at him like he looked at her.

“See?” she asked suddenly and he had to shake off this little trance that overtook him “Those are the sweetest in the season” she pointed in the direction of the cherry tree line on their right “But they ripen late in the summer. I guess you always have to wait a little bit longer for the sweetest things” she remarked looking his way over her shoulder, he smiled at her, she smiled back and blinked before taking few more steps ahead.

With a jumpy run she approached different trees on their left.

“But these…” she reached to pick some red fruit “Are ready for harvest”

He could not stop his eyes from falling lower, observing the hem of her white summer dress as she stood on her toes with her hand up. So high on her thighs, he could feel a wave of heat washing over him. He had to look away.

She run up to him, close, bringing one of the cherries to his lips.

“Try it” she encouraged.

“You know I’m not a fan of cherries. It’s too sour”

A delicate frown appearing on her face as she put the fruit in her mouth instead. She bit it, spatting the seed out to the side. Somehow this act fascinated him. She looked careless and content.

“They’re not so sour. Maybe just a tad, but they’re good” she added with her mouth full of more cherries and he watched, with his eyes wide open, as she licked her lips, now darker, painted burgundy by the cherry juice.

He could not tear his eyes from her lips, maybe she noticed, but he couldn’t care less. His heart started to beat ruthlessly against his ribs, blood pumping quicker in his veins. The thing he wanted most in the world right now was to taste this goddamned cherry, but straight from her lips. It almost made him dizzy. She placed the fruit on his lips once more and he parted them slowly, his gaze now meeting her big, almost dark eyes. She looked lower at his mouth and giggled sweetly.

“Don’t be afraid, it’s not poison, try” she almost whispered, a little bit out of breath, he noticed.

He smirked taking the fruit from her fingers, noticing another plump one unluckily crushing between her fingers, a trickle of juice flowed down her digit. It was difficult to fight it, in fact, he did not give it much of a thought as he quickly spat the seed out to the side and reached with his hand for hers, bringing it closer to his lips and with the help of his mouth and tongue cleaned the juice off her fingers. The most insane part of this act was the fact that he did not dare to look anywhere else except her eyes as he did it. It felt forbidden, could seem innocent, but with the thoughts and visions hiding behind the blackness of his eyes, it felt obscene and almost pornographic. And to add to it all she made a soft noise, hard to describe and depict but a lovely one, the prettiest one, the gentlest gasp that fought it’s way out of her. His head was spinning. He had to, he wanted to, he yearned to. So he did it. He closed the distance between them, placing his palm behind her head and kissed her on the mouth. For the shortest moment her body went rigid under his touch but he did not stop and could feel her relax short moment after. Putting his other hand on her hip he pressed on her to take a step back, guiding them both deeper into the trees, carefully pushing her against one of them. She did not fight him, he took it as a good sign and reassurance, that she would not push him away. Wreaking havoc sensations awaken inside of him, and the excitation urged him to do more. Her soft lips danced with his perfectly, the taste of cherries lingering between them, he grew impatient. He needed more taste. The tip of his tongue pressed against her lower lip and she invited him, she let him in, parting her sweet lips to let him take what he pleased. Another pretty sound made by her reached his ears and it felt like a deadly shot to his senses, he grabbed her waist firmly, his mouth turning ruthless and wanton, his thigh secretly slipping between hers. She moaned again into his mouth. Her hands on his nape and biceps, wandering, touching him, holding onto him.

“Most perfect way to taste the cherries” he whispered between kisses, his right hand travelled higher up her body.

He could feel many things, the warmness of her body radiating through the material of her dress, her chest rising and falling quickly, out of breath, her heart beating hard against his own chest, the rhythm of his and hers beating in sync, he realised. And she was kissing him back with the ferocity and urgency matching his. The earth shook underneath their feet. Kylian turned more bold, pressing his knee higher between her legs as well as his hand that rested right under one of her breasts. He stroked it gently with his thumb and could feel her tremble in his embrace. How far would he go? How far would she let him? He was driven by wicked and untamed needs and sensations. And finally his thigh met the apex of her legs and she jumped, a feverish moan of hers followed.

“Kylian…” she whispered against his lips, a plea, he felt ecstatic and groped her breast, she writhed against him “Kylian, stop” she breathed.

But he didn’t want to stop, it was the last thing on his mind. He wanted it all. He wanted her. He wanted to blend into her. It was the first time he heard his name coming out her lips in such manner.

“Oh” she whined when he pressed his thigh harder up in contact with her clit “Please, stop, we can’t” against his hungry lips.

She wasn’t trying to push him off her, her body was letting him to continue, but her words finally reached his consciousness and it awoke him. A protest was coming from her and it would be a tremendous mistake for him to ignore it. He stopped, leaning away from her and slowly opening his eyes, his hands still lingering on her shaken body. The sight he met was even more blissful than his dreams, her eyes wide and sparkly, hair lightly dishevelled, her skin flushed and deliciously radiant and her beautiful lips, swollen and reddened – the remnants of cherries and his kisses. But she said that they can’t and he blinked remembering the sound of these two words. What has he done?

She moved against the tree, something close to fear and insecurity visible in her eyes and he tensed, worried that he did something unforgettable. But she enjoyed it as much as he did, he could feel it. She looked away from him and his heart fell, with a gulp he watched her palm delicately resting on his chest. She tried to push him away, he could tell, but she did not put any force into it. So he made this task easier for her, stepping away a little, giving her space.

“The dinner must be ready now” she simply declared, her voice hoarse, her gaze distant, he frowned in disbelief.

Was she planning to act like none of this happened? He was out of words. Hurt.

“We should go” she stepped away, passing him and he huffed.

“Y/n, we should talk about it” he called but she seemed to not have any intention to turn or wait for him “Y/n, I’m sorry!”

Yet she fled from him. Just like that.

#kylian mbappe imagine #mbappe imagine #football imagine #football fics #football imagines #kylian mbappe fic #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader

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catsrsupersonic · 7 months ago

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fight, and make up

Quinn Hughes x reader

warnings: cussing, angst? kind of?, happy ending, mention of alcohol, ending kind of horrible cause i didnt know how to end it lolz, too long *sigh*

word count: 1.4k ish

Be kind! Constructive criticism is always welcome! Wage peace xx

*****

Person B gets locked out of their house while their roommate is gone, so they spend the night at Person A's place.

“Are you fucking kidding me Alyssa?” you groaned, stood outside the door to the terrace house you shared with your roommate in Vancouver. It was raining extremely heavily, and your work clothes were drenched. Because you had just moved to the city you barely knew anyone. One of your friends from college was looking for a new roommate and you took the plunge and moved from New York to Vancouver just under two months ago. You had tried your best to make some friends, been to a multitude or bars, but trying to make friends as an adult is so much harder than it was when you were a kid. On top of this, you and your boyfriend Quinn had fought the day before and neither of you had spoken to the other since. That’s why, when your key broke two days ago and your roommate, Alyssa, forgot to leave her spare before leaving for a four-day work trip, you were where you were now. Stranded. Cold. Wet. All with no where to go because you didn’t know anyone, and you were mad at your boyfriend.

You stood for a few minutes contemplating your options. Since you always had extra makeup and a clean set of clothes in your car, you could sleep uncomfortably in your car and be sore at work tomorrow. You could also just bite the bullet and apologise to your boyfriend for freaking out on him the day before. In your own defence, he was allowing a random girl who worked at the rink to text him daily. She was clearly flirting with him, even going as far to ask him out for dinner. And even though your boyfriend never entertained her flirtatious comments and only responded politely, it had really irked you that he was replying at all and didn’t shut her down the second she started flirting. What pushed you over the edge when you brought it up was the double standards and hypocrisy when he asked what the big deal was. You knew for a fact that if this was the other way around, he would get so mad so fast and demand you block and remove whoever it was that was texting you. Then all hell broke loose.

Nasty names were called, and shouting continued for nearly ten minutes until you had finally had enough and stormed out of his apartment forgetting your only coat and your favourite lip gloss. You made a b-line to the carpark and only when you were sat in your car did you allow yourself to start crying. You were embarrassed at yourself for being insecure when your boyfriend had never ever given you reason to be, but you were also angry at him for not understanding why you were upset at him. you heard the door to the carpark open and through blurry eyes filled with tears you saw your boyfriend begin to approach your car. Still in an angry frenzy, you quickly pulled out of the parking spot and sped off, not giving him the time of day. Again, you hadn’t spoken since.

You in the end just decided to dry off in your car and head to your favourite bar for a bit to cool off after work and hopefully get tipsy enough to be able to sleep in your car semi comfortably.

After walking through the doors into the loud bar, it wasn’t as busy as usual, it being a Thursday and all, so you manage to snag a seat at the bar. You ordered one drink and just sat watching the game on the TV as you felt someone sit beside you. You looked to your left to see one of your boyfriends’ teammates who you had spoken to a few times. You got into a conversation about the season so far and every mention of your boyfriend made you want his comfort more and more.

Noticing your solemn expression, the teammate asked you, “Where’s Quinn tonight, anyway?” the question made you sigh because you too wanted to know what your beautiful boyfriend was doing at the current minute.

“I don’t know.” You answered truthfully, “we had a fight yesterday and he hasn’t texted me since. It was pretty nasty.” He gave you a sympathetic smile before excusing himself to the bathroom. You ordered you both another drink as you waited for him to come back.

He arrived back to his seat with a slight smirk on his face and when you asked him what he was smirking at he brushed you off and chuckled lightly to himself. The conversation began to flow again, and you noticed him keep looking at the entrance. Then, his gaze fixed solely on the door as a huge grin plastered over his face. He pointed to the door, and you followed where he was looking to see your tired, slightly dishevelled boyfriend scanning the bar for something, or someone for that matter.

As his gaze locked with yours, you looked back to his teammate who was sporting a smug grin. “Snake.” You narrowed your eyes at him as he laughed at your remark. He gave the bar staff enough cash to pay for the drinks you had both had and before you could protest his paying, he was at the door, saluting you on his way out.

The seat next to you was occupied once more with a worried looking boyfriend who scanned your features as you stared into his eyes. There were a few moments of silence where you were both just looking at each other before he decided to finally speak up. “I’m sorry, baby” he admitted. You sighed and looked into your nearly empty drink, swirling the ice about with your straw. He grabbed your hand lightly and brought it to his mouth placing a tender kiss to the tips of your fingers before continuing. “I shut her down like you asked. Then I removed her and asked for her to be moved to another department, so I never have to see her, on or off the ice.” He used his spare hand to brush a piece of hair behind your ear and after a few beats of silence he spoke up again. “Why didn’t you call me when you had no where to stay? What were you gonna do, hm? Sleep in your car?”

This caused you head to snap towards him as you looked at him with a shocked expression. How did he know that? Then before you could open your mouth and ask, he spoke once again, as if reading your mind. “Alyssa called me. But that shouldn’t have been the case. I always want you to call me when you need help, baby. I’m always here for you, just you. always.”

You leaned into him to give him a sweet kiss on his lips. “Thank you” you whispered into the kiss as his placed his hands on your hips, drawing you into an embrace.

He led you out to his car, claiming he would bring you tomorrow to get yours. The drive home was quiet. Quinns hand on your thigh was sending you to sleep and the soft hum of the engine was all that could be heard.

“I forgive you, you know.” You speak up as he quickly glanced over to you, “I shouldn’t have flipped out on you like that. You’ve never given me a reason to be insecure in this relationship. I don’t know why I reacted like that,” you said as you looked ahead, suddenly embarrassed again and crossing your arms over your torso.

“You had every right to be mad, baby. I was up all night angry at myself for letting you walk away and not shutting that girl down straight away like I should have. You were right, and you were entitled to feel insecure, but I need you to know that I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you.”

You nodded. Deep down you knew that, but past experiences left a small voice in the back of your mind telling you different. There was more silence as he pulled into the carpark of his building. You both made your way through to the lobby and the elevator. On the way up to his level, he pulled you into a kiss and whispered a small ‘I love you’ as he led you into his apartment.

****

hope you enjoyed! Just realising I made her sound like she was homeless at the end lmao

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #boyfriend #he is so babygirl

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me-loving-woso · 1 year ago

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Your Hot Neighbor

Prompt: You just moved to Manchester because of your job and you meet your neighbour.

OR: 5 times you see your neighbor, 1 time you actually talk to her (or at least, she talks to you)

Prompt 9 (Miscellaneous) :"Abort mission, I repeat abort mission.” “What? Abort what mission? All you were doing was introducing yourself to your neighbor?” “Yeah, and they’re too attractive. I can never speak to them again.”

You recently moved to Manchester after being in London for your entire life. You were a civic lawyer who had just landed her dream job in Manchester as a partner for one of the biggest companies in the whole UK, Smith & Wesson. You were ecstatic, to say the least. Even though you had to move four hours away from your home, you were looking forward to starting the next step of your life. The fact that your best friend lived there was an advantage; now you could finally spend time with her instead of having endless hours of video calls and unlimited texts with each other.

They called you ‘the fox’; you seldomly worked with other people, but you would demolish your opponents on the court because of your wittiness and aggressiveness. You established yourself quickly in the world of law. Everybody wanted to work with you because of how professional and available you were to everybody.

Everybody who knew you and went to see one of your cases would tease you because you would become different when you had to represent your client. You were aggressive, never smiled, and always very serious, which was the complete opposite of what you were in real life. You were shy, funny, and a little bit of a people-pleaser, but you would never acknowledge it.

As soon as you arrive at your new apartment in Manchester, you plop on your new sofa and have a nap. You hated driving, and after a four-hour long drive alone with your dog, you were barely standing up from the tiredness.

The house was chosen by the company you were working for. You didn’t want anything big, as you knew you would be living there alone, but you specifically asked for a garden to let out your dog when you couldn’t take her for a walk. The company was more than willing to give you anything you wanted with the hope that ‘The Fox’ would bring new clients to them. The house was attached to another house, so you would probably at least have a neighbor. Your balcony and garden were shared; only a railing would divide your terrace, while a bush wall divided your garden.

Your dog was a year-old German Shepherd; her name was Leika. Your four-year-old niece gave her that name when she was still a puppy, and you called her that ever since.

As you were already sleeping for an hour, you heard a knock on the door. You slowly move from the couch, scratching your eyes, going to the door. As you open it and recognize who the person is, you immediately throw your arms at her. You finally saw your best friend after months.

“Oh my god, I’m so happy to see you, Ellie!” You say as you finally break the hug.

“It has been too long; how have you been, Nick Wilde?”

“Don’t call me that.” You chuckle.

She began calling you that after you started working for your first job as a lawyer, you went out together for drinks when she still lived in London. You told her that people called you The Fox. She replied, asking if you were like the fox in Zootopia, and from then on, she would occasionally call you Nick Wilde, mainly when you were being irrational, trying to be funny, or just when you embarrassed yourself.

She entered the house, and as soon as she walked in, Leika ran to her and asked for cuddles. She kneeled down and began petting the dog.

“Oh my god! She is so beautiful. I already love her so much!” She awed, never looking away from the dog.

“Okay, that’s enough. I don’t want you to steal away my dog.” I chuckled as I sat down once again on the couch.

For the rest of the night, you stayed in your living room catching up on each other’s life. Leika was peacefully sleeping near your feet. You were already at your second bottle of wine opened when you saw a car parked near your house.

“Were you expecting somebody?” Ellie asked.

“Nah, I think it’s just my new neighbor.”

You both stand up and look out the window, trying to be sneaky, peaking at who your new neighbor would be. You couldn’t see much from outside, only from her car's lights and the street. She was wearing some sort of tracksuit, with her handbag around her shoulders. It looked like she just came back from a run. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and you could see only part of her face, but as she turned around, you had to blink twice.

“Damn, she is beautiful,” Ellie says. She found the keys to her house and entered inside.

You turned around, returning to your couch, mumbling, “She really is.”

After a while, Ellie decided not to return to her place to sleep as she was already very tipsy. She took the couch, having Leika at her feet, while you went upstairs to your room. Tomorrow would be your first day at your new job.

The second time you see her, you are taking Leika for a walk. You stop at a Coffee shop nearby your house for some coffee, yes, you are British, and yes, you prefer coffee to tea. As soon as you get your coffee, you exit the shop and head home; as you are walking, you see a woman running towards you with a Manchester United shirt on. She was your neighbor. With the daylight, you look at her, trying not to seem creepy, and she seems even more beautiful than the other night. The sunlight perfectly hit her face, revealing all her freckles and amber eyes. You couldn’t function properly; she was hot, appeared to be athletic, and on top of that, had freckles. You were fucked.

As she moved past you, you gave her a last look and then went home.

The third time you saw her, it was a Saturday morning. You just finished one of your most tedious cases since you came here to Manchester, so all you wanted to do was relax in your house with Leika and maybe watch some tv, or, if you were really up to something social, go out for a coffee with Ellie.

It was 2 pm, and you were just finishing changing your bed sheets when you heard Spanish music playing outside. Unable to mind your business, you look out the window from your bedroom to see where the music came from. What you didn’t expect was your neighbor in soccer shorts and a sports bra working out and doing abs exercises.

“So she really is fit,” you think to yourself. You didn’t want to look creepy, so you continued your day, trying to ignore your very hot neighbor once again.

You are in your house with Leika and Ellie, the fourth time you see her. It was a scorching day in April, so when you heard that you finally had a free day, you invited Ellie to sunbathe outside with you. About an hour passed when you heard reggaeton music from your neighbor’s house. Ellie suddenly looks at you, giving you a puzzled look.

“It’s just my neighbor working out.” You explain.

“The really hot neighbor?”

“I only have one neighbor, so yes, I suppose.”

“Just admit it; you like her.”

“How can I like her if I didn’t even talk to her.”

“You still haven’t introduced yourself?”

“Nope.”

“Well then, find an excuse and do it.”

“What excuse?”

“Umm, you could say Leika lost a toy in the bushes, and you wondered if it got stuck in her garden.” She suggests.

“You will not stop until I introduce myself to her, right?”

“We are very insightful today, aren’t we, Nick Wilde?” Ellie says sarcastically.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Then introduce yourself to her; the worst that could happen is that she is mean and sends you away.”

“Thank you for the encouragement.” You stand up from your sun lounger and put on a shirt and some shorts. You slowly pet Leika as if she would transmit some braveness, and you walk to her house.

You couldn’t recognize yourself. You were a great lawyer who wasn’t afraid of being confident and skillful, but you couldn't help but feel nervous right now.

You inhaled and exhaled the air quickly, preparing yourself. You were about to ring the doorbell when you saw her. She was opening a small bottle of water and drinking it, then she poured it all over her head, and you could see the tiny droplets of water slowly going down her body. You were so entranced by her movements that you nearly forgot why you were there.

So you focused again on your mission and were about to make your presence known when she let down her hair from her ponytail and combed her hair while moving her head from side to side. She looked as if she were in slow motion. Nope. You couldn’t do this; you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of her. So you speed walked to your house and were soon met with Ellie’s waiting eyes.

"Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission.” You walk into your garden, sitting down on your sun lounger.

“What? Abort what mission? All you were doing was introducing yourself to your neighbor?” Ellie replies, looking confused, following you.

“Yeah, and they’re too attractive. I can never speak to them again.” You put your sunglasses on and continue to sunbathe like nothing happened. Ellie was still confused. At the same time, Leika looked at you, asking herself what just happened to her owner; Ellie just sighed and chuckled, following your lead and lying down too.

The fifth time you see her, you see her friend first.

When your boss came inside, you were in your office, “So there’s a new client. Someone recommended you to her, and she wanted you as her lawyer. This is a high-profile case; she is a professional footballer and needs the maximum discretion. I know you don’t need a reminder, but I must insist you do your best in this case.” Your boss advises you.

“I will do my best, Mr. Wesson, I don’t think I ever had celebrities as my clients, but I will treat her like any other client.”

“I know you will, y/n; you are one of our best lawyers. As for celebrities as clients, from my experience, you have to treat them as any other client; they might be more dramatic and a tad bit egocentric, but deep down, they are normal people.”

“So, who’s my new client?”

“Her name is Alessia Russo. She has been having problems with her property.” Your boss hands you the case. “I’ll send her in right now.”

You didn’t know much about football; when you were younger, you would watch some games with your dad, but when you moved out to college, you stopped caring about the sport.

As soon as she entered the room, your first thought was, “Damn, she is tall.” You stand up from your desk and give out your hand so she can shake it. “Good morning, my name is Y/n Y/ln, but you can call me Y/n. You must be Ms. Russo.” She shakes your hand, “Please call me Alessia; you make me sound like I’m old.” You both chuckle.

“Sure! Alessia. Please sit down. I couldn’t review your case, as I got it thirty seconds before you entered. Please tell me your issue, and I’ll assure you I will try my best to fix it.” You gave her an assuring smile, and she began talking.

Over the following weeks, you worked very closely with each other, trying to win the case. Sometimes, she would try to make small talk with you, to get to know you better, but you would always reply with short answers. This case could open many job opportunities for you, and you didn’t want to mess it up and be unprofessional, even though you were just going to be friendly.

One day she came late for one of your meetings with her,

“Sorry, I know I’m late, but our coach made us do an extra hour of training, and I forgot the time.” She apologizes.

“No worries, yours was my last meeting for the day, so you are good. I heard you have the derby in a few days, so you must prepare.” You add.

“Oh my god, finally, my lawyer is giving in to small talk?! Who are you, and what have you done with my her?” She jokes.

“Oh. Sorry.” You say shyly, bringing up again your 'The Fox' persona. “I didn’t mean to act unprofessional.”

“And now she is back.” She chuckled exasperatedly. “You know, I don’t care if we talk about other stuff besides property, right?”

“What about this, if we win the case AND I’m in the mood for it. We can go out for drinks.” You concede. Even though you tried to be professional and a lit aloof, her clumsy and outgoing demeanor reminded you of Ellie and how the two of you would get along together.

After a week, when you won the case, Alessia hugged you and gave you a gift.

“I don’t know if you like football, but if you are free, I brought you two tickets for the derby tomorrow.” She says happily.

“I couldn’t possibly accept.” You gave them back.

“Come on.”

“Okay, only because my best friend is obsessed with Manchester United.”

So that is how you went to the stadium to see the derby. You and Ellie were in a great spot; Alessia found great sits for you.

As you saw the girls running up to the field, you recognize her.

“Is that-“ Ellie questions

“Yep, that’s my neighbor.” You were shocked. Now you finally understood why she was very fit and why you saw her with a Manchester United jersey.

“How could I have not recognized her before?” Ellie wandered.

“Maybe you didn’t see her properly, it was dark outside, and you were very tipsy.”

“I was not.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Well, at least I know who Ona Batlle is.”

“Is that her name?”

“Yes. She’s Spanish.”

“Ohhhh.”

“Did you still not introduce yourself to her?”

“Nope.”

“Are you going to?”

“Nope.”

As you continue to see the game, finally, Alessia got subbed in. You point at her. “That’s my client, right there.”

“Your client is Alessia Russo?”

“Yep.”

Your best friend was deadpanned. “You definitely need to introduce me to her. She’s like my favorite player.”

“And not to mention, she is also your type. Am I wrong?” You remark knowingly.

“Don’t use your voodoo lawyer tricks on me, Nick Wilde.”

“Excuse me?! I would never.” You say faking being offended.

She rolls her eyes at you while you give her a dumb smile then you both continue to focus on the game.

At the end of the gave you put yourself near the stands to say hi to her.

“Hey, Alessia, nice goal out there!” You say, making her turn her head towards you.

“My favorite lawyer.” She ran to you happily.

“This is Ellie, my best friend.”

“The one obsessed with Manchester United?” She says, looking at your best friend.

“Yep, that’s me. I’m Ellie.” She says, giggling, trying to contain her excitement.

Alessia was handing out her hand so that she could shake it. Still, Ellie was too caught up in meeting her favorite player that she didn’t even realize, so you gently nudged her arm so she could focus.

“Oops, sorry.” She giggles and shakes her hand.

In the meantime, Ella Toone was approaching the stands.

“You must be y/n, the best lawyer in the world.” She says, looking at you.

“Don’t give me too much credit.” You say humbly, slightly blushing.

“Nope, she is. They call her The Fox for a reason.” Ellie backs you up. You blush even more; Alessia is shocked at your change in personality from when you were in court to how you are usually.

“I don’t think I would ever see the day my lawyer would blush at a compliment.” Alessia chuckles.

“Okay, stop it.” You say, turning your eyes to another figure by the stands; she put an arm on Alessia’s shoulders as she went to the changing rooms. Ona was walking by, and you made eye contact for a moment. This time was Ellie’s turn to nudge you.

“Yeah, sorry, what were you saying?” Focusing on your former client.

“If I remember correctly, you owe me a drink.”

“Tomorrow I have work, so I can’t tonight. But maybe tomorrow night?”

“I’m good with that. I’ll bring a couple of friends. Is it okay with you?”

“Only if I can come!” Ellie interjects.

“Oh, definitely,” Alessia says.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You say, waving at her while dragging Ellie to the exit.

When you exited the stadium, you went to Ellie’s house and dropped her off, finally going home after a long day. You didn’t expect your neighbor to sit on the steps of your door. You looked at her confused; she saw you and then stood up.

“Hi.” She said awkwardly. You gave her a small wave, incapable of pronouncing words. “So, you are probably asking yourself why I am here.” She says with a very strong Spanish accent.

“You are my neighbor.” You say, deadpanning a little too quickly, genuinely hoping you didn’t sound too harsh.

“Yes, I am. I’m Ona.” She says, giving you a small smile, reaching out with her hand. Your mind was short-circuiting; you internally hoped that from the outside, it wouldn’t seem like it. Spoiler alert, it seemed like it, but Ona was too nice to say something.

“Oh yeah! My name is Y/n Y/ln. But you can call me y/n.” You took her hand and shook it a little too eagerly.

In the future, you will definitely cringe thinking about this first encounter.

“I don’t think you just sat on my stairs just to introduce yourself to me, right?”

“Nope.” She says as she shyly rubs the back of her neck. “I forgot the keys to my house today, and I hoped you could let me use your balcony to let myself in.” She says, pleading.

You hesitated a minute, trying to get your mind around the fact that the woman next to you, whom you had a slight crush, and whom you were too scared and embarrassed to talk to, just asked you to come into your own house to get into hers.

“Or I could totally ask the landlord for a spare key. A stranger asking you to get inside your house might make you feel uncomfortable right now. I’m really sorry for asking.” She rambled, getting her stuff from the floor, wanting to leave, slightly embarrassed.

She is cute when she rambles, you think. “Wait. Come inside; let me help you. We are neighbors, after all.” You gave her a shy smile.

“Thank you, you literally saved my life!”

“That’s a tad bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Nope.” She stood behind you as you opened the door.

“I hope you like dogs because you will definitely see one, no-.” You don’t have the time to finish the sentence that Leika ran towards you and Ona to get her cuddles. You put your bag down and kneeled to pet her. Then you stood up and let Ona in.

“Can I pet her?” She asked shyly.

“Of course, you can. This is Leika, my dog.”

She took off her bag and sat on the floor while Leika jumped on her and started kissing her. Ona just laughed and began petting her.

Her laugh was so cute and heartwarming, you never wanted to stop hearing her giggles, and you didn’t even want to get started on her voice. She had this deep voice that she asked something, you would just comply with her, and she could make you do-. You definitely had to get your out of the gutter immediately.

You blinked once, shaking away your thoughts, while you put your bag on your desk chair.

“Busy with work?” She asks, looking at the pile of papers on your desk. “Yeah. I’m a lawyer, so I usually get many piles of paper daily.” You chuckle nervously.

“Wait. You are y/n? Lessi’s lawyer?”

“I can’t either confirm or deny.”

“You were the girl talking to her after today's match, weren’t you?” She says, recognizing you.

“Yes, it was me.”

“So it is you then!” She says happily.

“Maybe…” You say, giving her a small smile. “You played well today, Ona; you definitely carried the team.”

She blushes a little. “It’s really a team effort.”

“Yeah, but you definitely shined more than other players. Don’t tell Alessia that I said that.” You chuckled nervously.

“I won’t. But as I said before it-“

“It was a team effort.” You roll your eyes jokingly. “Just take the compliment, Ona.”

“Okay, only if you take my compliment.” She says shyly, slowly rocking herself from one leg to the other, “You looked cute when you tried to deny you are Lessi’s lawyer.” You were taken aback by her words. You definitely weren’t expecting that. Try to act cool.

“I-, “you stutter.

“I’ll take yours if you take mine.” She smiles innocently, kneeling back down to Leika and petting her.

“ I- thank you?” You blush, “I’m not really used to taking compliments.” You chuckle.

“You’re welcome.” She smiles. “So, where’s the balcony?”

“Oh yeah, right.” You nearly forgot why she was in your house in the first place. You bring her upstairs.

She would have to pass through your bedroom, and you hated that. A, because you just met her, and B, you couldn’t help wondering if the room was tidy or messy.

“I’ve recently moved in, so it might be messy there.”

“Don’t worry. I get it. I thought lawyers would be tidy and organized, but I guess everyone makes mistakes.” She teases.

“Ha ha, very funny. I feel very offended right now.” You joke.

“Oh, poor you; how will I make it up to you now?” She smirked.

“Oh, I know some ways you can.” You mumble lowly.

“What did you say?”

“Uhm, nothing!” You say, snapping out of your thoughts.

She definitely heard you. You definitely are still in denial about that.

You open the door to your room, and you let her in; you don’t let her have time to wander with her eyes into your bedroom and bring her outside. You were both out now; she threw her bag into her balcony.

“Let me help you; I don’t want a dead person in my conscience.” You grinned, holding out your arms for her.

“Oh, I get it, you wanna be, what you English people say, my knight in shining armor?” She smirked once again.

You slightly blush, “You know what, legally, I can say you are an intruder, so go on without me, I won’t help you, nor will I be your knight in shining armor, as we English people say.” You remark, trying to mock her accent.

“Hey, I don’t speak like that!” She gently smacks your shoulder.

“Yes, you do.” Mimicking once again her accent, lowering your voice, then you chuckle.

She sighs, frustrated, and then she looks where she has to climb over and then at the ground outside. You see her hesitation, and you jump into action.

“Just let me help you.” You plead, once again offering your hands to her. This time she takes them without blinking twice. Her hands were so soft, but you could feel the hesitation as she wouldn’t move.

“Are you scared of heights?” You ask.

“What?” She replies, still looking at the ground.

“Are you scared of heights, Ona?” You gently tighten the hold on her hands, trying to ground her.

“Nope, I am not!”

“Okay, say that while looking at me and keeping a straight face.” You chuckled.

“Okay.” She gave up. And for the first time in a while, she looked at you, “I may be slightly scared of heights, happy?”

“Definitely. Let’s do this. Why don’t you stay here while I open the balcony door for you?” You reassured her.

“Can you take the house keys for me? They are on the nightstand near the bed.”

“Okay,” You reply. You climb over the railing; as you are about to put your feet on her balcony, you act like you tripped. She gasped. Trying to reach for your hand. While you just laugh at her concern.

“You asshole.” She smacks your hand. “I hate you.”

“How can you hate me? We just met.” You say dumbly, reaching for the door and opening it.

As you open the door to her room, you look at it, then go back and look at her, “So you gave me shit about me being messy while you are the one talking.” You say, shaking your head in awe.

“I recently moved in?” Using the same excuse that I said before.

“Nah, our landlord told me you’ve been here way longer than me.” You laugh. “Just admit it.”

“Okay, I’m a little messy.” She sighs, “I’ve been really busy lately, and I haven’t been able to clean up; I’m sor-“

“I was just messing with you.” Cutting off her ramble. “You look very cute when you ramble, though.” She blushes and then shakes her head.

“So, the keys?” She giggled.

“Oh yes, right!”

You come out of her room and hand her the keys for her railing.

“Now, can you please help me return to my house?” You smile.

“Yeah, sure.” She offers her hands to you and slowly pushes you towards her.

“Wait!” You scream, losing your balance and falling to the floor of your balcony on top of her. You stay there for a moment, flabbergasted, and then you quickly get up to your feet. “I’m really sorry! Did I hurt you?” You ask her, helping her up.

“You are asking me that? I nearly got you killed; I’m so sorry!”

“Hey, I’m good, see?” You show her, making weird movements with your arms, making her laugh. “Plus, you did a pretty good job muffling the fall.” Winking.

She hesitates for a moment and then quickly hugs you. “Thank you, really.” You hold her a little tighter, “You are a lifesaver.”

She shyly takes two steps from you, “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Well, I don’t know. Are you planning on blasting your reggaeton music?”

“Probably.” She grins. “But I meant if you were coming to have a drink with us with Lessi.”

“She invited you too?” You ask her, and she nods. “Then I’m definitely not coming.” You joke, smiling to show her.

“I’ll see you there then.” She starts to walk away.

“I’ll count the minutes.” You tease.

“Asshole” She screams as she exits your house.

Bonus

You were back to work the next day but still didn’t tell Ellie that you had finally talked to Ona. You knew you had to say to her before going out for drinks with Alessia and her friends. So when you picked her up during the evening to go to the bar where you would meet the others, you told her,

“So, about yesterday.” You begin.

“Oh my god, yes! It was so cool meeting Ella Toone and Alessia Russo! God, I am actually going out for drinks with them! I am so excited!”

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to say that, but yes, also that.”

“Oh, sorry, got a little excited for a moment. Please tell me what you were trying to say.”

Suddenly, you don’t know why; your nerves caught up to you, and you can’t pronounce the words; luckily, you just got to the bar.

“I-I. We are here.” You say, releasing your seat belt and exciting the car.

You get inside the bar and are soon greeted by Alessia, who runs up to you to hug you. “I genuinely thought you would bail on me.” She laughs.

“I thought about it.” You joke. “But Ellie here really wanted to come.” You tease your best friend.

“Okay, Nick Wilde, don’t get too cocky now.”

You approach the table. Ella and Ona were already there. You and your neighbor smile when Ella asks, “Nick Wilde?”

“Yeah, I usually call her that when she’s trying to be funny or gets on my nerves. So always.” She grinned; you gasped and gave her a smack on the shoulder. You begin to talk to Ella, ignoring Ona; of course, you were doing it on purpose as you didn’t know if she wanted to talk to you after yesterday or if she was just being nice because she had to get in her house.

“Aren’t you going to say hi to your neighbor, y/n?” You slightly blush.

“Hey, Ona, did you remember your keys today?” You joke, making Ellie look at you strangely while Alessia and Ella look confused.

“Wait. Are you guys neighbors?”

“Yeah, we only actually met yesterday.”

“Wow, what a small world,” Alessia says.

“Excuse me, but I have to go to the bathroom, y/n can you come with me?” Ellie says, dragging you away hurriedly to the bathroom. “Sure. I’ll be right back!” You say the last part to the girls.

You enter the bathroom, and your best friend quickly shuts the door with a waiting expression.

“You talked to her?”

“Yeah. Well, she talked to me?”

“Fucking finally!”

“It’s nothing; she locked herself inside the house and used my balcony to get in.”

“So, did you talk or did more than that?” She smirked.

“Oh my god Ellie! I’ve just met her; get your mind out of the gutter.”

“So nothing happened?”

“Nope. We just talked, and that’s it.”

“Okay.”

After a while, you leave the bathroom, and Ona tells the two English girls about yesterday night. They were all laughing, and you only heard, “So I tried to help her, but I just made her lose the balance, and she tripped and fell on top of me.” She laughs.

“Nothing happened, my ass,” Ellie whispers, sitting at the table.

“Y/n Y/ln parkour sensation, everyone.” Alessia jokes.

“You are the one talking, Alessia. Do I have to remind you why I had to make another copy of all your case documents?” You grin wittingly.

“Ohhh. Nick Wilde has some character!” Ella replies.

“Not you too, with the nickname.” You sigh, holding your head in your hands. “I need a drink.”

“Let me buy it for you.” Ona offers; you look at her dumbly.

“You don’t have to.” You shrug.

“I insist; you helped me out yesterday. I owe you one.”

“You won’t let it go, won’t you?” You both smile without taking your eyes off each other

“Nope.”

“I’ll come with you then.”

Your interaction didn’t go unnoticed by the table as they shared questioning looks while you headed to get drinks.

The night progressed really enjoyably. You and the girls got along very well, and you thought that you could actually be friends with them. Ellie was having a blast and, honestly, was a tad bit drunk. It was midnight when you decided it was best to get her home.

“I think it's better if I take her home.” You say to the girls. You hug each one of them quickly, making the one with Ona extra uncomfortable, then you drag Ellie outside.

You call a cab, and soon you leave the bar. Ellie was already asleep in the car. So when you get to her house, you slowly wake her up, and with your help, she is sleeping safely and soundly in her bedroom. You decide to walk home, which would take only five minutes. Ona’s car was already there, so you were glad she came back home safely.

When you reach your door, you rummage through your pockets to find your keys, but you can’t. Fuck. You left them on your coffee table.

So you decide to do what your neighbor did yesterday, hoping she would still be awake.

You knock twice at her door, really hoping that she will answer. After a few seconds, you see the light turned on in her living room, and she opens the door. She was already ready for bed, with no make-up, some shorts, and an oversized T-shirt on.

“Don’t tell me that you forgot your keys.” She chuckled tiredly.

“I-I’m sorry. I think I left them on my coffee table. Can I get in through your balcony? Then I’ll get out of your way.”

“Of course, you can! As you said yesterday, we are neighbors after all, and friends?” She asked.

The thing is that you didn’t want to be friends with her at all. You wanted more, but you knew you had to wait for that.

“Yep, friends!” You say a little too forcefully. She, fortunately, ignores your tone and lets you in.

The house is the same as yours, only the furniture is slightly different.

You get into her balcony and carefully climb over it into your property; she just looks at you.

“Ha Ha.” You open the door leading to your bedroom and finally look at her.

“What?” You ask, a little embarrassed.

“We should stop losing our keys; what if you fall off that railing?”

“Oh, you care about me!” You tease.

“You are an asshole, Nick Wilde!” She grins, rolling her eyes.

“Only for you.” You wink suggestively. “And don’t call me that.”

“Asshole?”

“Nick Wilde.” She says. “I hate it.”

“Another reason to call you that, then.” She chuckles.

You wave at her as you are about to go to your bedroom when you hear.

“Wait! Y/n” She hesitates; you can see some doubt in her expression; you move next to her; she is leaning on the railing on your side. You move beside her, and she whispers, “May I kiss you?”

You definitely weren’t expecting her to say that. You couldn’t speak.

“What happened? The cat got your tongue?” She chuckles nervously.

You just react by reaching out for her, touching her cheeks, and simply kissing her. Your first kiss with her was shy and tentative. But it was all that you hoped for, a confirmation that you weren’t delusional and that she liked you back for some strange reason. You couldn’t fuck this up.

You break away from the kiss and put your foreheads together while you gently stroke her cheek. You both smile at each other, and after a few instances, you break off the moment by talking.

“I am so glad that I came to your door tonight.” You laugh, still breathless.

She gives you a small peck, “I am glad too.”

You step back, defying all of your self-control to just jump to her side of the house, fully make out with her.

You gently wave at her, giving her one of your biggest smiles.

“Good night, neighbor.”

“Good night, Nick Wilde.”

#ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fic

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salchat · 2 months ago

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This is my tiny, innocent Dean. I've drawn him for the story I'm working on at the moment, which I'm having tremendous fun with! It's a version of Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca and is my first venture into the omegaverse, because I needed Dean to be the young omega who gets swept off his feet by the older, widowed Castiel Novak.

It could be a couple of weeks before I begin posting, because I have quite a few things to work out. I may add some Secret Garden to the mix, or a dash of Jane Eyre, just for fun. But one thing's for sure - the path to true love will not run smooth! This relationship is going to have a lot of issues to work through!

Anyway, if you'd like to read a scene, there's one below the cut...

The maitre d’s voice rang through the dining room. “Alpha Castiel Novak!”

“Oh, good heavens!” Mrs Butters’ shrill exclamation jolted Dean out of his daydreams. “It's Castiel Novak! No, don't look!”

He had no intention of looking. It’d just be another more-money-than-sense alpha knothead, puffing himself up to be admired and fawned over. Dean didn’t give a shit. Whereas Mrs B wet her panties every time some new high society stiff arrived at the hotel. Still, spilling her shit-load of toxic gossip meant that Dean wasn’t getting lectured or slapped or whacked with the hard wooden edge of her fan, so he’d put on his best listening face and count it a win.

She leant toward him. “Castiel Novak is one of The Novaks. The Novaks, Dean.”

Who the fuck were the Novaks?

“Fabulously wealthy, one of the best traditional families.”

Assholes, then.

“Their estate is in Eversett.” She frowned. “Or Meldonshire. Somewhere like that.” She waved an airy hand, her eyes glued to the alpha’s position. “Lebanon, the house is called. One of the few Great Houses still being managed as it should. Oh, he's coming this way! Oh good heavens! Oh my!”

Dean anchored his eyes to the salt and pepper set in order not to roll them. Mrs B might not want to be seen slapping her omega companion in public, but she had a retentive memory for any little slip-up and would be sure to save up one of her best for later if she caught him.

“But sir, we can set another table next to the dance floor for you. Really, it would be no trouble.” The maitre d’ was going full-throttle with the smarm.

Dean didn’t catch the words of the response – just a rumble, like something heavy dragging over gravel.

“Or with a view of the terrace. It would be the work of a moment, Mr Novak. And a much more pleasant situation.”

The rumble was louder but no more distinct.

“Then please, allow me to bring a bottle of our best champagne.”

The gravel scraped again.

“Whiskey. Yes, of course, sir. And the a la carte menu.”

The gravel stirred itself into a snarl. Jeez, this guy was more knot-headed than most.

“A hamburger. Of course, sir. Followed by a slice of… pie.” The weird newcomer might as well have requested a lump of dirt followed by a morsel of shit. Dean couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk. He couldn’t stop the rumble of his far from satisfied stomach either.

“Dean.” The fan rapped his knuckles. But she hadn’t noticed the smirk. “Dean, stop daydreaming. Sit up straight.”

Huh. She was regretting taking the best chair now. Dean, with the kitchen door flapping open and shut at his back and regular nudges to his chair from passing waiting staff, had a direct view to the next table-for-two.

Mrs B leant toward him. “What’s he doing?” Her pink lips moved in an exaggerated stage whisper.

“You want me to look at the alpha…uh, Mr Nover? Novem?”

“Novak! And yes, of course I want you to look! Tell me what he’s doing!”

Dean looked up. The alphas face was in shadow, downturned as if he were studying the thread-count of the tablecloth. He had a lot of dark, messy hair. One hand was visible, a fingertip pressing down on the blade of his fish knife so that the handle wobbled up and down.

“They say he can’t get over the death of his wife, you know. Such a beauty, so spirited. Amara was her name. So sad.” Restless fingers twitched at the stem of her wine glass. “What’s he doing?”

“Nothing,” said Dean. “Just sitting.”

“He must be doing something.” Mrs B started twisting in her chair but caught herself in time, before she gave herself away as the insatiable rubber-necker that she was at heart. “Tomorrow you can sit here and I’ll sit there!”

“Yes, ma’am.” A passing waiter narrowly missed his head with a tray of soup. She was welcome to Dean’s seat.

“Hasn’t he even smiled at the Contessa? He must have noticed her, and I’m sure they know each other. They were both at the Duke or Northerton’s ball two years ago last Christmas.”

The Contessa di Faraglione had been the object of Mrs B’s gossip for the past week since she’d arrived with her retinue of servants the week before. She was old news now, though. This Novak guy was the target now, and Dean would be used to help engineer an opportunity of speaking to him, which would be really embarrassing. Like when Mrs B had made him take her card to the Contessa’s suite, claiming some kind of distant family connection. The butler had told him to fuck off. Probably. Dean didn’t speak Italian.

A gust of warm, savoury air and a swell of noise at his back announced the opening of the kitchen door. Dean hunched forward so he didn’t get a tray dumped on his head. But the waiter was one of the more agile. He swerved around Dean, hung a right and brought the tray down in a sweeping arc, perfectly timed to present its load to the occupant of the next table.

The occupant of the next table looked up at his meal and smiled.

And okay, yeah, it was a nice-looking hamburger. Normally it would have had Dean transfixed, salivating with envy. But it wasn’t the juicy patties and shiny, domed bun that brought Dean’s mind, his heart, his every-fucking-thing to a juddering halt.

Dean hadn’t seen the ocean until he was fifteen. Before that it had been one dusty town after another, Dad dragging him and Sammy around like unwanted baggage. But when a job had finally taken them to the coast, it’d been like all the heat and grime was washed away by that fresh, salty air. And the colours in that huge ocean had taken his breath away.

It was the same now. The drab, grey despair that made up Dean’s life was suddenly gone, and his world was full of ocean blue depths in the eyes of this strange alpha – strange but gorgeous, from his eyes to the soft bow of his lips to the commanding strength of his nose.

Dean was heartily glad of his over-powdered cheeks. Fuck, what was he thinking, blushing over some rich alpha who wouldn’t look at Dean once, let alone twice? He really needed to get a hold of himself.

But the way that guy was looking at the burger was like he hadn’t eaten in years. Imagine if he looked at Dean that way. Although, maybe he’d been sick or something. The shadows beneath his cheek bones looked sharper than they should and beneath his eyes too, little round ridges of dark cast by the bright chandeliers above them. This alpha needed burgers and plenty of them. Dean’s skin itched with the need to cook and cosset and caress, and Jesus fucking Christ, he was really losing it here, wasn’t he? Really giving into his inner lapdog who just needed an alpha to boss him around to be happy.

The waiter flickered across Dean’s vision again and Mr Novak was left alone to enjoy his hamburger. He picked up his knife and fork and raised them. Which was a thing you did, Dean supposed, in a high-class dining room. You ate a burger with a knife and fork. But then his forehead crinkled into the suggestion of a frown. He shook his head. His rounded lips flattened into a tiny smile. He put down his silverware. And he picked up the burger in both hands.

“Close your mouth, Dean.” Mrs B’s spoon scraped her bowl, chink, chink, chink, even though there was hardly any of the creamy sauce left.

Dean closed his mouth. Then his eyes returned to the table over her shoulder. Mr Novak hadn’t taken a bite. He was still holding his hamburger in two hands, staring at it like he’d found the Holy Grail.

Then his eyes flicked up and fastened onto Dean’s. Dean should look down. He should drop his eyes like the shitty little omega-nothing that he was. Instead he stared into the ocean.

And Mr Castiel Novak smiled at him. Just a little smile. Barely there before it was gone, and then he was chowing down on his meal, all his attention on his food, his eyes closing as he chewed his first mouthful, then opening again to get a load of the burger cross-section he’d created. Did it have pickle, Dean wondered? Mayo, cheese, the works? Would he bite down through the whole lot, getting all the flavours in at once, in between those perfect pink lips? And was Dean salivating over the man or the burger?

He was looking at Dean again. Looking and smiling and nodding as if they were having an actual conversation about how great hamburgers were in general and this one in particular.

“Dean!”

A sharp pain on his knuckles brought Dean’s attention snapping back to his employer.

“Dean! Bridge! The Spanish drawing room!”

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.” Bridge. Of course it was time for bridge. His world closed in with an almost audible snap. Bridge was played at eight o’clock sharp every night and Dean and Mrs B were there, every single night; she to play and gossip and drink sherry, he to sit in a corner and try not to exist too loudly until he was needed.

He pushed his chair back, clumsily, and was sworn at by a passing waiter.

“Dean!”

Jeez. He wasn’t the one who’d sworn, was he?

“Yes, ma’am.” He rounded the table and pulled out his employer’s chair and collected up her purse and her wrap. And he didn’t even glance over his shoulder to the most perfect alpha he’d ever seen, as he followed her to another evening of excruciating dullness in his excruciatingly dull life.

#supernatural #fanfic wip #dean winchester #jensen ackles #castiel #destiel #omegaverse

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cheolaholic · 1 year ago

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ring of love; csc (03)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n; new chapter !! also added navigation and some lists to my profile where you can find right here <3 you can find my masterlist, idea/wip dump, a link to my ask box where you can send in thots, requests and even comments; alongside my ao3 ^^

hope you all enjoy this chapter and lmk if you can guess which korean web series one of the scenes are from 👀

hint: it involves a certain kpop group

it was the beginning of fall when your family moved to daegu.

though it wasn’t a big or dramatic move, since you’re moving from the big city to a smaller town in the same province, it was still big to you because it was your first moving experience.

you vividly remember watching the colored leaves fall from the branches and onto the pavement, being stepped on by pedestrians and you imagined they made those ‘crunch’ noises as depicted by the many cartoons you’ve watched.

you were only 5 years old.

“___, are you excited to see our new home?” your mother asked from the passenger seat, turning to see you kneeling on the backseat, admiring the outside view. you turned to her with a big smile, letting out an excited ‘mm!’.

smiling at your enthusiasm, your mother turned to your father who was driving; reaching out her hand and placing it over your father’s resting on the armrest of the car. “do you think she’ll like the place?”

intertwining his fingers with hers, your father gave your mother’s hand an assuring squeeze, “i’m sure she will,” he spoke, “if she doesn’t, we’ll just have to hope it grows on her.”

your mother laughs at your father’s statement; at the same time hoping that it wouldn’t come to that.

the car stops in front of a white double-story terrace house. the second floor had been extended into a balcony and you notice the few familiar plants from your previous house put on display. half of the wall on the outside of the second story was an exposed brick wall, which adds a little bit of red-orange aesthetic to the full white design of the house. the ground level had a black gate, with two front doors in the same colour with floor-to-ceiling tinted windows.

getting out of the car, you ran up to the gates, attempting to climb them before your mother rushed over and picked you up. “sweetie, that’s dangerous!” she pointed out, a frown on her face.

your father was at the boot of the car, stacking two of the many boxes together before making his way to the gates. “honey, the keys are in my back pocket, could you get it?” reaching out a hand into your father’s pocket and fishing out the keys. unlocking the gates and the front door, your mother placed you down on the ground to help your father with the boxes while you decide to explore the interior of the house.

running up the stairs to the second story of the house, there were three gray colored doors. being a curious child, of course you went through all three of them. you opened the first door that revealed the master bedroom, which of course is going to be occupied by your parents. the second door lead to a bathroom; and when you reached the third door - a pink sign was hung on the door with your name written on it.

pushing the door open, the first thing you noticed was a pink bed tucked nicely in one corner of the room. across it was a white study table with a few trinkets decorating the surface, followed by a wooden closet right next to it. at the foot of your bed stood a similar level bookshelf, filled with all your favorite books and coloring books; alongside some of your plush toys.

“do you like it, babygirl?” came your father’s voice from behind you. whirling around and flashing him a big smile, you excitedly nod your head as he crouched down to your level, giving your hair a ruffle.

“i’m glad you do.”

he then proceeded to pick you up and placed you over his shoulder, legs hanging over his shoulders. “daddy!” you squealed, giggling as he gave you a piggyback ride.

“honey! ___!” your mother called out, “come meet our neighbours!”

you stared down at the young boy from your father’s shoulder while he stared back up at you.

as your father sets you down from his shoulder, the roles switched; you’re now staring up at the boy while he stares down at you.

seeing how the staring contest would not end anytime soon, your mother placed her hands on your shoulders, introducing you to the young boy and the woman standing next to him who you deduced to be his mother.

“my, what an intense staring contest,” she chuckled. “we’re the lees’! that’s my husband, and this is ___, my daughter.”

“intense, indeed,” the woman chuckled. “we’re the chois’. it’s nice to meet you, ___. this boy here is seungcheol, my son. my husband’s out back dealing with the garden.”

she then looked down at seungcheol, lightly patting his shoulders, “cheol, did you bring what i asked you to?”

snapping out of the staring contest he was having with you, seungcheol handed you a paper bag which you accepted after getting a nod of confirmation from your mother. looking inside the bag, you see a container of brownies, a small ‘wah…’ leaving your lips.

“mom and i baked them last night! we hope you’ll like them!” seungcheol said with a big grin on his face.

placing a hand on your head, your mother smiles, “our little ___ will definitely like them. she has an incredible sweet tooth.”

“no, i do not!”

“___, sweetie,” your father spoke up, “you ate half a tub of ice cream in half an hour.”

“daddyy!!”

you were 7 when your little crush on seungcheol began.

you were in the playground, swinging on the swingset with your bear plush in your lap when a group of boys approached you. “that’s our swing,” one of the boys spoke, arms crossed as they stared down at you.

you stopped swinging and looked at the group, “you can’t claim a swing. it’s a playground for everyone.” visibly upset by your response, the boys stepped closer so that they would tower over you. “well, this is our swing now. get off.”

“no.”

you could see the face of the boys turn red - from anger and embarrassment that you were refusing to follow their instructions. as they continued to stare down at you, one of them noticed your bear plush, snatching it out from your lap.

“hey!” you shouted, getting off the swing to try and get your plush back, “give him back!”

“nuh-uh,” the boy retorted, raising it up above his head so you can’t reach it, “that’s what you get for sitting on our swing!”

you then shove at the boy, crying out, “i said give him back!”

“back off, girlie!” another boy said, shoving you back with a harder force, causing you to fall back onto the ground of the playground.

as the boys walked away with your bear plush, leaving you to cry on the ground. they tossed it around, occasionally dropping it on the floor and purposefully stepping on the poor plush, later on acting as if they didn’t mean to do so. witnessing the boys’ treatment towards your plush, you pulled your knees to your chest, hugging it as your cries grew louder.

“___?” a worried seungcheol called out.

crouching down in front of you, seungcheol places a hand on your head, gently petting it in an attempt to comfort you. “___, what happened? why are you crying? are you hurt anywhere?” you attempted to answer him. but, due to your crying, you had a hard time forming words, only letting out harsh pants and whimpers.

“easy there, ___,” seungcheol said softly, “take a deep breath, okay?”

when your crying calmed down, the older boy heard the laughters of the group of boys. turning his head towards their direction, he saw them taking turns throwing a plush bear at each other. seungcheol recognised the plush bear - it was the very same plush he had gifted you on your 7th birthday.

he then turned back to you, noticing that you were looking at the group with a frown on your face. pressing his thumb against your forehead, he gave you a gentle smile, “don’t frown like that, you’ll get wrinkles.”

turning back to the group, he let out a sigh, “they took your bear?”

you sniffled as you nod your head, wiping the snot from your nose with the sleeves of your hoodie. “do you want me to get it back for you?”

“p-please…”

nodding his head, seungcheol got back up on his feet, ruffling your hair before making his way towards the group of boys.

“hey, you rascals over there!” he called out.

you don’t know why, but you felt your heart race, a small blush forming on your face.

after seungcheol had gotten your bear plush back from the group of boys (mainly by scaring them off because imagine an older, taller boy approaching you with a scary look after talking to the girl whose bear you had snatched), he walked you back to your house.

as his parents were out working, it wasn’t unusual for seungcheol to spend some time at your place with your parents as he waited for his to return home. sitting beside you on the porch of the backyard of your back garden, seungcheol was eating a piece of brownie your mom had baked while you enjoyed a cone of vanilla ice cream.

“you need to learn to stand up for yourself, ___,” seungcheol spoke, placing the now empty plate next to him and looked at you. “but, i have you to protect me!” you responded with a smile on your face, earning a small laugh from the boy. “i know, ___. but, i can’t always be there for you.”

“d-does this mean you’re leaving me…?” you asked, tears welling up in your eyes. “oh, ___,” seungcheol said softly as he places a hand on your head, “that’s not what i mean. i meant it as in, there will be times where i can’t always be with you. you remind me of a puppy,” he chuckled. “maybe that can be a nickname for you, hmm?”

when your eyes light up and nod excitedly at the older boy, he lets out another laugh and ruffles your hair.

“alright then, pup.”

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

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forfucksakesniall · 1 year ago

Note

Heyy so if u don’t mind can u do where lewis and the reader are co-parenting their daughter :) <3<3<3

Don't mind at all. Hope you like this piece.

Aiyla - moonlight or moon glow

Long Way Down

You tried to work things out with Lewis, but they don't always go as planned. Despite having a plan and thinking things were going fine, you might have been in denial, and both of you took things for granted, resulting in nothing going the right way.

Now, you and Lewis co-parent your adorable 3-year-old daughter, Aiyla.

“Daddy, play outside… please,” Aiyla asks sweetly.

“I’m sorry, baby, but we can’t go outside today... Daddy just needs to do a little more work.”

Aiyla keeps her hands on the glass door of the terrace, admiring the view from inside.

She lets out a deep sigh, and it breaks Lewis' heart to see his daughter like this. He had an emergency meeting with the team to discuss some new upgrades they'll be working on, and it happened while Aiyla was staying with him.

His sweet, loving baby is waiting for him to let her play outside in the garden and with her little playhouse and slide. Lewis can't bear the thought of letting her be alone outside, so he makes her wait by the door with her big, cute, brown eyes, wishing she was on the slide or in the playhouse.

Aiyla goes to Lewis, who was at the table with his laptop and the team.

“Daddy, Mommy?”

He sees her on his lap, trying to reach up and sit with him. He lifts her onto his lap and lets her watch the meeting.

“Um.., Mommy went out for a little while, and she'll be back later.”

“Mommy and me, play please..”

Hearing that makes Lewis rethink the meeting. His baby thinks he wasn't giving her much attention and wants her mommy back.

Shit, he thinks to himself.

“Just a little more, baby… I promise,” he reassures her and kisses the top of her head.

You entered the house as quietly as possible to see how Lewis was dealing with your baby. Unsurprisingly, he was working on his laptop with your child on his lap, trying to have some "quality time" with her. You and Lewis had agreed to meet at your place instead of taking her to the playground to avoid unnecessary attention since your baby daddy was a prominent figure. You chose to keep it private for you and your daughter, despite lingering bitterness. Accepting that it had come to this was hard, and you couldn't help but feel responsible, though that's what you believed in.

You slowly approached them, and your daughter felt your presence, nearly jumping off Lewis' lap, startling him with sudden excitement. He sees you and noticed the disappointment in your eyes.

"I'll take her outside, so you can finish up," you told him as you took Aiyla off his lap and into your arms.

"Hello, my sweet, cute baby. I missed you," you kissed her cheek, and she giggled.

You opened the balcony sliding door, and she got excited, wiggling from your grip to run to the garden. You put her down, and she ran like the wind.

When you turned around, you saw Lewis looking at you with sad eyes, as if he knew he hadn't handled things well, but his life and career were at stake. It wasn't his fault; you put this on him, and now-

Aiyla started patting your leg, distracting you from Lewis, and you looked down at her.

"Daddy play?" she asked.

"I don't think he can-"

"I'll play with you, baby," Lewis said, suddenly right behind you, your faces inches away from each other. He put his hand on your back and kept his eyes on you.

"Can you wait for Mommy and Daddy? We're just gonna talk a little. Is that okay, princess?"

Aiyla let out an annoyed huff and left.

He turned you around, pulled you close, and put his hands on your waist.

"I know that look, (Y/N). It was all a coincidence; there was an emergency meeting, and-"

"Mick messaged me. He saw you were with Aiyla during the meet and then texted me," you interrupted, leading to an awkward silence.

"I know this isn't what we wanted-"

You looked at him, wondering what he meant by that.

"I didn't mean it like that... I meant us."

He took a deep breath. "I don't like it to be like this. I hate seeing you away from me. I hate that the distance between us keeps getting bigger. I want us to be like before."

"You know we can't be like before anymore. We have Aiyla now." you tell him.

"I know that, but I want us to try again and give... and give me another chance."

You pulled away and looked away from him.

Aiyla was looking at you from her playhouse.

"I don't know, Lewis... I need more time to think about it. I can't make a decision right now. I have Aiyla now. I can't be so careless about this."

"I get that, but please just let me try. I'll be better this time. I'll let you take your time, but (Y/N), I need an answer. You can't keep running away and avoiding me."

"I will..."

You kept your eyes on Aiyla and saw that she was getting sleepy playing house.

"You can put her to bed if you want and.. Stay till she falls asleep"

"Yea, I'd love that! Thank you."

Lewis came close to you to give you a kiss on the cheek, but you stepped backward.

"Sorry, Ummm... Small steps..." you smiled at him.

"Yea, that's... Yea."

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton blurb #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton oneshot #f1 fandom #f1 fiction #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #dad!lewis hamilton

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thegainingdesk · 11 months ago

Text

The Spider to the Fly

Statement of Oliver Barrett, dated 22/05/2023

The rent should have been the first red flag, I know that, but fuck me, have you seen the rents in Dublin these days? Worst than fucking London, if you can believe it. And there's this guy, right, four-story townhouse, twenty minute walk from my new job, says he just wants a tenant to make this place feel less empty, all for a grand a month, bills included. In this market! Too fucking right I didn't question it.

Well, I say a grand a month. One thousand euro and one cent, to be exact. The cent didn't bother me at the time, why the fuck would it? The man wants to add a cent to the rent, I'll give him a cent. Maybe it was to get over some threshold for something, or some tax dodge, or whatever, I didn't know and I didn't care. It was still €999.99 less than I'd be paying anywhere else in Dublin for some damn sight nicer digs. Now though, knowing what I know, after everything that… well, anyway, it bothers me more now. It feels significant. Like those old penny rents you hear about, or something. Something symbolic, and old.

But anyway, there was a cheap room going, in a good location, a good house, it was bloody better than anywhere else I've come across, and I was only in Dublin for a weekend before I properly moved to get everything sorted, so I didn't ask too many questions. So I go to this house, and it was gorgeous. We're talking Edwardian or Georgian or, I don't know, fancy. Some Upstairs Downstairs shit, like there were servants quarters and a coal cellar and whatever a scullery is. I didn't really think about it at the time - again, I'm not really in a position to ask questions - but you usually see houses like that in a row, right? Like terraced? This one was just there. On its own. On a nice street, don't get me wrong, but it was taller than any of the other houses, set back a little, and the style's all wrong. Maybe I thought the rest of the street had gotten destroyed in the Blitz or whatever they had in Dublin, it's not like I know anything about history outside of naming a couple of Henry the eighth's wives.

So I walked up to this great big, not quite right house, and I pulled this rope by the door and it fucking clanged. This wasn't some little ding dong electric doorbell, this was some fucking machinery. It felt like the house was vibrating from it. And while I'm reeling, this Victorian era sonic torture device still going off in my ears, the door swung open, too fast really, faster than you'd expect someone to get to the door, even if they were by it.

I don't know who I was expecting but this guy was hot. Like, something else. I'm talking movie star hot. Fuck, maybe he was a movie star, there's so many movies these days, right? He could have an Oscar for all I know, maybe that's how he could afford the house. I'm looking up at him, checking him out, and I don't have to look up at many people but this guy is real fucking tall, six-six maybe? And rail thin, but in a way that he makes work, he wasn't gaunt or anything just… angular. He had this jet black hair and his eyes were somehow even darker - at the time I probably would have said they were like ink or the night sky or something sappy, but looking back all I can think of is how shark's eyes look. I don't know, maybe that's just me projecting stuff after… well you know, after what happened. And he's just stood there, completely still, but, fuck, I really don't know if I can explain how fucking still this guy was. And that's not me looking back after the fact, at the time I was a bit creeped out. It was like looking at an optical illusion or something, like my eyes couldn't put together this guy that I'd just seen open a door in double-speed with how fucking still he was now. It was like someone had pasted a photo into the middle of my vision. And even though he was so fucking still, there was this, I don't know, this tension to him, like I could just see some energy there, ready to… fuck, I don't know, pounce. Like a tiger or… well, like a… but that's for later I guess.

Anyway, I'm checking this guy out, because he was sort of giving me the creeps, sure, but he was also fucking hot, and suddenly he wasn't so still anymore, and he’s looking me up and down and he's smiling and I'm starting to feel like this guy's checking me out right back. I don't know if you're gay, but there's this look, right, every gay guy knows it, this discrete little up and down, maybe with a little smirk and it just says, you know, "I'm gay, you're gay, let's fuck sometime". Now, I've had my share of guys in the past, I'm not about to be humble about it, I know that I'm hot myself, or, well I guess, you know, back then… but you know, I really was a great looking guy. Square fucking jaw, little dimple right in the middle of my chin, real broad shoulders, you know, I've always played rugby, and you could tell, because I had some decent fucking muscle on me, still do, probably, somewhere under all this fucking… whatever. The point is that I've had guys lining up for a chance to bounce on my dick, so I wasn't exactly shocked when guys checked me out but this guy, I mean, he was out of my league, you know? Out of everyone's league. It's insane to think guys that look like that would check anyone out.

So I was feeling sort of cocky, like maybe I could get more than a room out of this deal. And I know, don't shit where you eat, and definitely don't fuck your landlord, but fuck me this guy was hot, right? I couldn't pass up on this. And everyone in the fucking city's probably going for the room, it's not like I was likely to get it anyway, not with an advert that attractive. Sorry, what's that? Where did I see the advert? No, sorry, I can't quite… No, no, I don't think it was on a website, maybe a… Listen, I don't fucking remember, okay?

Anyway, so this guy smiled and he stepped back, and with his long legs he was all of a sudden right back in the shadows, and he let me in and the door closed behind me and all of a sudden it's just so dark. And I sort of stumbled around and I hear his voice, somewhere off down the corridor, and he said, and I remember this, because it's the first time I heard his voice, all soft and whispery, like I'm imagining it more than I'm hearing it, and there's this light, coming down the corridor from some door, but it's not like the hallway gets any brighter, it's just this beam of light for me to walk to. And he said, right, he says "Why don't you come into the parlour?" I remember that, exactly, because who the fuck says parlour, but it's in my head too, like it echoes in there. Anyway, so I walk towards this light, but it feels, I don't know, like I'm pushing through something, like- fuck, sorry, can we stop for a minute, I just need-

[Archivist's note: the recording was paused here at the subject's request. The subject was provided with a cup of tea and a member of the museum staff brought some food. After around five minutes, the subject was happy to continue the interview.]

Sorry, it's just, that's sort of where it feels like it all started. Walking through that hallway towards that voice and that light and that… that parlour. I'm not sure I really even remember what happened next. We spoke, for a while, the house rules and stuff I guess, when rent was due. I don't even remember agreeing to taking the room, it was just assumed. He certainly didn't give me a tour. He didn't even tell me his name, I don't think, not then anyway.

The next thing I knew I was back blinking in bright daylight, disorientated to be out of the dark and out of the warm, heady air of my new home. I flew back to London the next day, and spent the next few weeks preparing for my move. I received a contract in the post and found out my landlord's name - Damhán Alla. The contract was short, and was lacking a lot of the details I was expecting - nothing about a deposit, no bank details to transfer money to, none of the usual stuff. And what was there was odd - the contract was for one year and one day, no naked flames, the basement was out of bounds, I wasn't allowed to use certain spices or cleaning products, and I specifically wasn't allowed to do the hoovering myself. But like I said, if he wanted to run a tax dodge or whatever it was by renting me a cheap room, and if he was a little particular about his cleaning, or he's got some allergies, I was happy to help him out.

I turned up with all my worldly possessions in a few bulky bags - I'd either sold a lot of my stuff or sent it to my parents for storage, there was no realistic way I could haul much of anything to Ireland. My new landlord opened the door and was once again eye-achingly still for a moment or two, and then suddenly he's all charm, welcoming me in, taking my bags from me once I'm over the threshold, asking me how the journey was, if I wanted something to eat or drink.

I stuck my hand out. "It's Damhán, right?" I said. "I don't think we actually exchanged names last time." Thinking back, I don't even know how he knew my name and address to send me the contract.

His laugh was soft, but with a cruelty hiding somewhere deep in it. There was another sound there too, coming from his throat; a clicking maybe, or bubbling, and a hissing behind that. "Damhán," he corrected my pronunciation. "Not 'Damn-ham'."

"Down," I tried again. He shook his head and repeated it, slowly. "Dow-un," I said, doing my best to replicate him. He shrugged and gave a small nod - it would do, obviously.

I had the attic room - a whole floor really. In contrast to the rest of the house it was light and airy, with large windows and modern furniture. It had an en suite, a little kitchenette, even my own sitting area. I never needed to use the rest of the house if I didn't want to, but Damhán assured me from the shadows of the stairwell that I had the run of it, reminding me once again about the contract's stipulation not to go into the basement.

I got the full tour. The house was huge - I mean huge, you know. Bigger than it looked from the street, it must have just gone back and back. Loads of empty rooms, which makes sense, I guess; what are you supposed to fill that much space with? I remember at the time asking where his bedroom was, you know, just so I'm not stepping on his toes, and him avoiding the question. Thinking back I don't think I ever did figure that out. And the whole house was dark, curtains drawn in every room, hardly any lights. And cobwebs absolutely everywhere. And these cobwebs weren't dainty little strands, you know, they were thick. I'd occasionally walk through one and actually get stuck for a second or two. I remember thinking that if I had enough money to afford a house like that I'd hire a cleaner to come in a couple of times a week, but rich people are weird, right?

We made our way through the dark to the kitchen - me stumbling, my new landlord silent - where he started pulling out pots and pans to cook me lunch. I can't remember if I'd mentioned being hungry, but I suppose I must have been, anyway, after so long traveling.

Once he was set up, he led me through to the parlour where we spoke that first time, and told me to sit down. He left and I could hear him cooking in the kitchen.

He came back in after a while and placed a plate filled with bacon sandwiches in front of me. The bread was thickly sliced and freshly baked, the fat on the bacon was still sizzling slightly, and I could smell the butter before it was even close. There must have been three or four of them on the plate, each one piled with bacon and far too much for me to eat in one sitting usually. I remember salivating and licking my lips. Damhán licked his lips as well, and watched me tuck in.

Damhán wasn't much of a talker, I quickly learned, but he liked my company at meal times. Whenever I did try talking to him, he'd always end up laughing - with that hissing, bubbling, clicking sound beneath it. I learnt after a while to not make him laugh. He'd not eat with me, he'd just… watch me. Each breakfast and dinner time, and lunch on weekends, he'd call me into the parlour, place a pile of food in front of me and watch me eat it all. Always huge portions, always rich and fatty, always fucking incredible. Some of the best food I'd ever eaten, honestly. Every time I'd think, I'm never finishing that, y’know, always a proper pile of food, and then I'd take that first bite and… Look, it did taste amazing, it did, and I'm sure that was a part of it, but really… I don't know. I just ate. Like I entered a trance, or I was sleepwalking, or… I don't know, okay? All I know is he'd put food in front of me and watch me eat and then it was like, I don't know, like I knew I was eating but I didn't feel it. Like someone else was eating and I was watching them as well.

I started snacking at work as well. I've never been much of a snacker, got to watch my figure you know. Ha! And you can see for yourself how that turned out. But all of a sudden I'm just hungry all the time, I'm stashing chocolate and biscuits in my desk and in my coat, and all day I'm just mindlessly eating and- no, no, not like when he was watching, not that kind of mindless, just, you know, I didn’t ever think about it, it was just, I don't know, habit or instinct or automatic or whatever.

I didn't notice at first. The weight gain, I mean. God, I mean I must have noticed it, but I didn't notice it, you know? Like I could see it happening, I could see myself getting doughy and could see my gut puffing up and how my clothes weren't fitting right, but it's not like. I don't know. I thought with the move and the new job and living in a new country, it was just stress. Like, my weight goes up and down sometimes, this was just an up, there was nothing to notice.

But it kept on going up. And up. And at some point I'm bigger than I've ever been and my clothes aren't just fitting weird or too small, they're tight. Like, couple of sizes, bursting out, buttons not closing tight. I don't know what everyone at work thought. God, I must have been obscene. Actually, I think I, yeah, give me a moment, I've got a picture from around then, some work drinks thing… ah, yeah, here you go.

[Archivist’s note: the subject here showed a picture of himself in a small crowd, at a bar or similar. The subject looks to be around 250 lbs and wearing clothes several sizes too small, with skin showing where his shirt has ridden up, and shirt and trousers showing clear signs of the fabric straining. This picture, along with several others the subject has provided of themselves during their time in Ireland, can be found in the supplemental materials attached to this statement.]

I still didn't see it though. Like, you can see what I looked like, and, I mean, god those trousers! They must have killed, you know? And I can remember how painful they were to wear, remember noticing my body getting bigger, but my brain, I don’t know, just didn’t make the connection that I was actually getting fatter.

It was fast. Really fast. There was this woman in the office, Sarah, right, and she was maybe six months pregnant when I started. Well, obviously, couple of months later she's going on maternity and I looked over at her and I think its the first time I clocked how big I was getting because I realised my belly was bigger than hers. Even accounting for, you know, different heights and builds and stuff, my gut still looked bigger on my frame. One day just before she was due, she mentioned she's put on over two stone, and I remember people saying how much that is. I get home and I weighed myself for the first time since London. I was eighteen and a half stone. I'd put on about five stone since moving. I literally put on more than twice as much as a pregnant woman, and I did it in only a few months. That's mad, right? After that I tried to pay a bit more attention to my weight, step on some scales occasionally, but like I say, it was difficult. My brain just couldn't focus on the idea.

At some point in all of this, some point before I realised I put on more than Sarah I mean, Damhán one day just appeared in the parlour while I was eating some, I don't know, mound of potatoes and meat, and he just put this pile of clothes next to me. Didn't say a word, no mention of how it's because I'm bursting out of my own clothes or where they've come from, just puts them next to me then stands back to watch me eat.

I tried them on later and they fit perfectly. Well, I mean. They fit, anyway. I think I was so used to my clothes cutting in everywhere by that point that anything that was actually reasonably my size felt like it was tailor-made. They must have been expensive though. Real wool suits, tweed trousers. Not really my style, you know, bit old fashioned, but I couldn't deny they looked good, and by that point I was just happy I had something where I could get all the buttons to close.

I remember one time, not too long after, I think I was a bit over twenty stone at that point. I’d come back from the pub - I started drinking a lot, during it all. I think on some level I recognised how fucked up it all was and was just trying to… I dont know. Numb myself. Get out of the house. Whatever. I came back, took off my coat and shoes and whatever, get upstairs and collapsed. The next morning I had this hangover from hell, but at least I knew Damhán’s going to have sorted a slap up breakfast to help me through it. So I went downstairs and… god, sorry, it's just… right, no, I'm fine, I'm fine, I just need…

[Archivist's note: The recording was once again paused here, and the subject was given some cake and biscuits while he became settled.]

Sorry, where was I? Right. I went downstairs and he’s standing in the hallway with his palm outstretched. Completely still, like he's been there hours, just waiting for me to come down. He had a lighter in his hand - I must have nabbed it off someone in the smoking area, you know how it is on a night out, you just sort of pick these things up, don’t you? Anyway he’s stood there with this fucking lighter in his hand, just staring and staring at me as I come down the stairs, and he said “Your contract said no lighters”. That's it. No “good morning” or “how's the head” or whatever. “Your contract said no lighters.”

And I said, you know, sorry, won't happen again, few too many last night, as you do. And he doesn't move. Just stood there with his lighter and he just repeated himself, louder: “No lighters, no naked flames.” And I realise, this guy’s angry. Really, properly, fucking livid. He was almost shaking with it, you could hear it in his voice. His face wasn't really showing it, not really, a little bit around his mouth maybe, but his eyes were… fuck they were blank. This guy was furious about this lighter, probably waited for hours for me to wake up, and his eyes were just blank.

So I'm there realising just how badly I've fucked up, that he must have some phobia or something. I’d seen all the hobs and whatever were induction whatsits, but I'd not really thought about it until then, just thought, I don't know, fuck, that they were just induction hobs, didn't think to care. I started to apologise again, told him I understood. I don't know if he heard me. He just went on and on about lighters and fire, getting louder and louder all the time, until suddenly he just stops and turns around and walks away down the hall.

For a second he stopped outside the door to the basement and put his hand on the knob and turned to look at me. It was like he was sizing me up, looking me up and down. Clearly he decided against whatever he was planning because he carried on to the kitchen and just snapped at me to go sit in the parlour. I remember that moment really clearly. And to say it now, it's nothing, right? He went to open a door. Decided against it. But… fuck me, it felt important at the time. Like my whole life depended on whether or not he opened that door. Maybe it did.

Fifteen minutes later he walked in and just put two big frying pans down in front of me, one piled up with bacon, one filled with eggs and sausages. He walks away and comes back with a loaf of bread and a couple of packs of butter and throws those at me and says “eat”.

And there was a part of me that, you know, obviously wanted to ask about the deconstructed breakfast sandwich I've just been served, and a part of me that was just absolutely boggling at how much food there was, but then there was… I mean the biggest part of me, the bit that wins out, just says to eat.

So I ate. I reached out and I grabbed some bacon with my bare hands out of the frying pan and I just shoveled it in my mouth, and just carried on until it was all gone, all the while with Damhán stood watching. Then the eggs and sausages, just with my hands, you know, with the yolk just, fuck, just dribbling down my arms. When that was all gone I started taking bites out of the bread. Didn't slice it, didn't butter it, just ate until it was gone. Then Damhán just carried on watching me and I… I got that feeling. Like I was in a trance and the only thing I knew is that I had to eat. So I bit into the butter. Just took a great big bite out of it. And another, and another. Fuck me, I ate it like it was chocolate. And I was screaming at myself to stop, right? Obviously I didn't want to be eating butter by the block. But he didn't force me, or threaten me, or whatever, didn't even tell me to. I ate it. I did that. Me. And he just watched.

Once I was done he walked out and left me alone. I won't lie, I cried. Pretty fucking hard. My stomach hurt, I was covered in butter and grease and egg. I felt huge - I was huge. And I just felt so ashamed.

After that it all picked up pace. He never mentioned that day again, but meals got bigger. A lot bigger. Each one could have fed a rugby team. Occasionally he'd just put a block of butter on the side, like it was a fucking dessert or something. I always ate it. He never told me to. I just knew what I was supposed to do.

And I started swelling up. I was gaining fast beforehand, but this was, fuck me, I reckon it must have been over a pound a day, maybe two. Must have been, honestly, considering how fast it all was and how big I am now. Clothes just seemed constantly uncomfortable; even straight after he'd given me bigger ones, they'd not quite fit right. My back hurt all the time from hefting around this gut, my feet hurt, I got these stretch marks fucking everywhere. It was just a lot, all the time, and my body never got a chance to adjust.

It was around Christmas, I must have been, maybe twenty-six, twenty-seven stone - who knows honestly, it all went by so fast. I went to my work’s Christmas do. Fuck knows what they must have all thought of me - can you imagine? They hire me at thirteen, fourteen stone, and not even a year later I'm pushing double that and not showing any signs of stopping?

Anyway, the Christmas do. I'm wearing the biggest Christmas jumper that I could find in M&S, and even that's, you know, riding up on me, fits me like a sausage casing. People are being friendly, nicer than I'd be if I was watching someone inflate in front of me in real time, if I'm being honest. No jokes or anything; not to my face anyway. And someone asks if I'm going home for Christmas, and I say no, I'm staying in Dublin. They ask, you know, very reasonable questions; am I not seeing family, my friends back in London? And I couldn't answer them. I had no clue why I wasn't going back home.

Eventually someone asks will I be doing anything with my housemates. I said it's just me and the landlord, so they get to asking about him, you know, what's he like, is he alright, do I get on with him. And at some point I mention his name and a couple of people give me funny looks, one woman laughs at me. I assume I've just said it funny, you know how Irish names are. And someone tells me that Damhán Alla means spider in Irish. I sort of laugh and say I must be saying it wrong, I spell it out on a napkin and someone says, no, that’s definitely just ‘spider’. And they keep on asking questions; is it his first name, full name, do I know if it's a nickname, just finding it absolutely mad that the new fat English bloke at work is claiming his landlord’s full name is Spider.

It makes me feel weird. I think they eventually just accept it as a weird name, like celebrity parents calling their kids Apple or Moonbase, but it really stuck with me. And I didn't really talk the rest of the evening, I just sat thinking about the cobwebs, and how dark the house is, and how dark and empty his eyes were.

At some point I followed someone to the smoking area and made a point of nicking a lighter. I didn't know what it was supposed to do, what I'd use it for, but fuck it, if Damhán didn't want me to have a lighter then I'd make sure to have a lighter. I tucked it into my pocket, and from that point on I always had it hidden somewhere, slept with it under my pillow, even kept it in sight when I was having a shower.

Nothing changed for a while, not really. I had my lighter, and I was thinking about Damhán differently, but honestly, it's not like I'd trusted him for a good while anyway. I was still eating the insane piles of food he put in front of me, still getting fatter and fatter. This goes on for a few months, and remember, I reckon I'm putting on over a pound a day at this point - a few months is a good long time to be putting on that much weight. But, as I got bigger, I felt like Damhán started to act differently towards me. I could see him eyeing me up sometimes, like, I was some fruit he was waiting on to get ripe enough. He even asked me, a couple of times, how much I weighed. I'd always tell him, between my bites of butter. One time I said I wasn't sure and he followed me up to the bathroom and watched me weigh myself. I remember him laughing when I read off the weight - bubbling and clicking and hissing again, making my stomach turn - and telling me I was doing a good job.

One Sunday in March, breakfast was huge. I mean, I was pretty used to eating a lot of food by that point, but this was just a crazy amount of food. He just kept bringing out plates and plates of it, didn't even watch me like he usually did, just kept on going back into the kitchen to whip up more. Eventually the sausages and eggs turn into roast vegetables and chicken and gravy, and there's some steaks in there, a load of it was just ready meals still in the plastic, and it all just keeps coming and coming and I just keep eating and eating. Eventually it got dark and the food stopped coming. He never says what the fuck just happened or that it was over, he just stops coming in with trays of food. Anyway, at some point a bit after that I heard him go through the basement door, which, I mean, I should have realised then that something was about to happen. Because I've never been down there, obviously, but I also don't think I've ever seen him go down there either.

Anyway, I sit there burping and farting and digesting until I feel human enough to pull myself up, and fuck me I was used to putting on weight by that point, but I could literally feel all that sudden extra weight. And I stagger up the stairs, probably travelling about a foot a minute, really fucking sluggish, until I collapse into bed, in the same too small pyjamas I had on that morning, my gut fucking looming over me, not even enough strength to pull the covers over me, fuck knows if I’d even be able to reach over my gut to grab them in the first place, and I’m asleep within a few minutes.

At some point I woke up. I didn't think too much about it at first, because I'd started snoring pretty bad somewhere in the first hundred pounds or so, bad enough that I woke myself up with it sometimes. But eventually, I started to see a shape somewhere above me. Like, the room was pitch black, but there was a section above me that was even darker. And I felt something drop onto my face, like something wet and slimy. I reach over to turn my light on and there's Damhán leaning over me, with his mouth wide open, long lines of saliva falling down onto me.

And his teeth were, fuck, I don't know if I'd ever seen his teeth before. Like, maybe he never opened his mouth when he spoke? Or maybe it was the same as how I didn't think about how much I ate or how big I was getting and he just made me not notice them, but they were… fuck me. His mouth was full of these huge, sharp, black fangs.

And even though he had his mouth wide open, wider than I've ever seen any human ever open their mouth, it sort of felt like he was smiling. Like this sadistic, shit-eating smile.

I backed away, as best as I could, what with my being the size of a small hatchback and the fact that he was close enough that even a normal sized person wouldn't be able to really put that much space between him and them, never mind me with my gut almost touching him. I realised that I was covered in cobwebs, thick ones, so that I had to pull them off as I went. And he laughed. His mouth didn't move, but he laughed, and it was so much worse than any other time I'd heard. It was that same gurgling, hissing, clicking sound, but it was like he wasn't bothering to cover it up anymore. I felt like throwing up.

I reached under my pillow and I grabbed my lighter and held it up to him, lit. It seems mad really, how he reacted to it. A tiny little flame like that, and that fucking monster cowered from it like I was holding a gun up to his head. I’m not particularly maneuverable, these days, so it was a struggle, but I made sure as fuck to keep that little flame between him and me at all times as I heaved myself out of bed.

I backed towards the door, and I think he panicked that I was going to get away because he lunged at me and… fuck. He went up like he was covered in petrol. The flame barely touched him. And he started going around the room, bumping into things, and they went up as well.

I couldn't exactly run, but I turned around and I lumbered out of there as quickly as I could. At one point I turned round and the whole landing had gone up behind me. I couldn't believe how fast it was all burning. I think it was all the cobwebs.

I got downstairs, with my heart pounding, and I turned around one last time to see the basement door open. I heard this clicking and gurgling, like when Damhán laughed, and these legs came out round the door, like spiders’ legs but huge. Six, eight feet long maybe. I didn't wait to see whatever they were attached to. I barrelled the door down, and I think it came off its hinges - this much weight will do that.

A neighbour must have rung 999, because the emergency services got there pretty sharpish. The paramedics put one of those foil blanket things awkwardly over my shoulders, like it was supposed to cover me up, and I got given a cup of tea and sat in an ambulance for a bit, then got taken to the police station for some questioning. I lied, obviously. Just told them I woke up when I heard the fire alarm and that's all I knew. I mean, what was I supposed to tell them? I set fire to my surprisingly flammable landlord because he was fattening me up to feed to a spider god he kept in the basement? Is that… I mean, do you think that's what it was? No, no, I suppose you don't know any more than me.

Someone at the station must have picked something up about why I wasn't giving any details, or they had additional information about the house or something, because someone mentioned I should give you guys a call. That you've smoothed over cases before where some of the details have been, I don't know, weird.

And I guess I thought you might be able to give me some answers. If you've seen anything similar, I mean. Like why did he have to make me so fat? Okay, you've got a spider-thing in your basement and you want to make sure its meals are nice and big and nutritious, but then why take so long? Just feed it a normal-sized person a week, not, fuck, not the fattest person you’ve ever seen after a year.

No. No, I suppose you haven't. Sorry, I just. Yeah.

I've been to a doctor about the weight. They didn't even have any scales that could weigh me, they had to refer me to a specialist who had some bariatric scale things. Fucking four-hundred and eighty something pounds. Thirty-five stone, or near enough. Have you ever even seen someone that big? Ha, I suppose you have now, yeah. Anyway, yeah, they've got me on some special weight loss regime, you know, restricted calories, physical therapy which is basically just walking for ten minutes until I'm knackered. I need to lose a load of weight before they can even talk about surgery.

That's it, I guess. Will you- yeah, no sorry, you've got your own procedures and stuff. Yeah, I can see myself back to reception. I don't suppose you have any more of those biscuits, do you?

[Statement ends.

Final archivist's notes, dated 05/11/23: The details of Mr Barrett’s statement have been verified as far as possible. There is a record of his move to and employment in Dublin, and while there is not a record of his renting with Mr Alla, there is a record of the existence of a building matching Mr Barrett’s description at the address provided and of the fire Mr Barrett described [see supplemental materials].

There are 17 reports of missing persons logged in Dublin where the missing person had gained a significant amount of weight prior to their disappearance, going back to 1909.

The name Damhán Alla appears in four previous statements, dating back to 1907. We have added the name as a searchable tag to these statements, although none seem to deal directly with him.

In recent follow up interviews with Mr Barrett's family, friends and doctors, it would seem that his weight loss plan has been unsuccessful, and he has gained somewhat more weight since moving back to London. His family and friends have noted that he seems in good spirits, despite his rather unique trauma and ongoing circumstances. His father made a mention of a new hobby - a newfound interest in spiders.]

#weight gain #gaining fiction #gainer fiction #gainer story #weight gain story #male weight gain #wg story #weight gain fiction #the spider to the fly #ive had lots of people mention that whst they like about my stories is how sweet they are #lol anyway here's this #horror fiction

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quotethatshow · 4 months ago

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#terrace house #terrace house opening new doors #Japanese #japan

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 month ago

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Finally, a cute, colorful home. This historic restored 1890 home in New Hope, PA isn't redone in gray and white. It has 3bds, 3ba, and the owner wanted it to look like a Matisse painting. $625k.

Cute, red, wood-burning stove in the fireplace. Note the door, yellow ceiling beam, and green window moldings.

Nice blue painted floor, orange feature wall and other brightly themed Matisse colors.

I don't know if this is an unused bedroom or if it could be a dining room that opens to a terrace.

Here's a cute bath with a classic checkered floor.

I think it works as a jumping off point to follow the colors of a favorite artist, if you're unsure of what colors to do your home. The blue cabinets look nice. I don't know how good the counters are, but they seem to be in decent condition.

The dinette has a door to the deck and a nice built-in cabinet.

Nice big bedroom with a loft.

Bath #2 is nice.

This looks like a bedroom that's used as a den.

Laundry room/office.

The garden and patio are gorgeous.

Plus, there's a great art studio.

This is beautiful. Do you love the floor?

There's also a deck on the back of the house.

Covered little patio underneath.

And, a nice little shed down in the parking area. What a great property. 0.32 acre lot

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/7416-Ferry-Rd-New-Hope-PA-18938/9082888_zpid/

#colorful homes #matisse style house #houses #house tours #home tour

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onlytendoguesses · 4 months ago

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Telltale Tokyo || Tendo Satori

est.bf!Tendo Satori x est.gf! Reader

!i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗

Genre - Fluff

Summary - All Tendo wants is to go for a run, but when he finally gets home to his girlfriend, he may have gotten much more than he bargained for.

Spotify - Telltale Tokyo

Word Count - 4.4k

!i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗

‘You’ve got another thing coming if you think you're getting out of this, Y/n!’

The front door slammed against the wall as Tendo swung it open.

‘Not answering my texts or calls, leaving me high and dry, do we really need me to miss you any more than I already do?’

If he had his way he would kidnap you from your law firm and make you a partner in his factory. The job would come with part ownership, unlimited potential and… perks.

‘Y/n?’ His smile wide and a spring in his step, he yelled out again as he gave the open plan apartment a once over.

He had been patient about your reluctance to get back into running for far too long.

You were making great progress up until the recent flu season, and you were out for two weeks with a bad cold. Any athlete knew a two week break was as good as pushing the restart button.

Tendo also knew you were eager to get back in the gym full time. But the heavy chest and cough that the flu had left behind needed to clear out first. Since then your evenings consisted of walks, and light jogging.

The desired effect was met, but you wouldn’t budge about running; having always hated that form of cardio.

Before the flu you'd had a steady pace that you didn't waver on out of pure discipline, but getting you back to it had been a pain in the ass.

For days he’d been pushing the subject, until you finally ran out of excuses and relented.

He was excited to leave the factory early and get his running shoes on. To him there was no comparison to that type of refocus. The air in his lungs, the feel of his rushing pulse and the urge to keep his legs going long after they had reached their limit.

It was good for clearing the head.

His smile dimmed down as the seconds ticked by without an answer.

The silence he was met with when he entered your apartment was out of character but not above being part of one of your grand schemes to escape cardio for the day.

You weren't in the kitchen or the lounge area. The TV was silent and the terrace door shut. The sliding door and at least some of the windows were always open when you were home.

It was an aesthetic thing. The fresh oxygen from your plants outside, the chilly wind from your highrise apartment, the open air somehow breathing new life into the atmosphere.

You had that in common, needing the sharp clarity. The slap on the wrist from nature to pause in your thoughts and appreciate the present time.

Your penchant for working hand in hand with the universe and going with the flow made more sense to him than you realized. He just had a more direct approach to things.

He was Tendo Satori. World renowned chocolatier and infamous Guess Monster of the volleyball court from his heyday in Shiratorizawa Academy. Bypassing the bullies, the weird looks and the rejection – he did what he wanted, when he wanted and didn't let any form of the word ‘no’ phase him. Returning to Tokyo had been the best decision he’d ever made too. It was the reason he’d found you.

He paused; his confusion palpable.

Glancing down at the compact shoe stand just inside the doorway, he noticed your day shoes were still present and your house shoes weren't. So you were definitely in here.

‘I will find you.’ He stated more softly as he kicked off his shoes and closed the door behind him. There was no doubt about it.

Making his way through the layout of your apartment that was now second nature, he noted that there was no brew of coffee in the air either. You usually have a cup every few hours.

The narrow hallway leading out of the lounge housed doorways to your bedroom, bathroom and study. He would bet his money on any of them.

But on further inspection of the study and bathroom, the doors were wide open - and unoccupied.

The slightly ajar door of your bedroom was a telltale sign, but every game of hide and seek needed a bit of time to play out. Where was the fun in winning early?

Pushing the door open, knocking being an unnecessary politeness at this stage, his smile was returned to him at the sight he was met with.

The only light in your bedroom peeked from between two closed curtains that covered a wall span of mid-level to ceiling high windows. The sundown rays barely reached the foot of the bed, leaving most of the room in evening shadow.

The double bed in the center of the room sat between a one seater against the wall, a tiny dresser for your nighttime essentials and your current read of the week.

He walked into the room, taking care to avoid the pillows that were thrown haphazardly to the floor. His presence blended into your personal bubble that had already grown accustomed to him.

There you were in the middle of the bed. Scattered across your pillow was your hair, your eyes closed and your breaths uneven as your body curled up in a fetal position around a particularly large pillow.

On instinct his eyes scanned the MSBY Black Jackals team calendar stuck on the side of your bedroom cupboard. The 17th of July. He sighed softly. It was that time.

His change of plans were immediate. No longer was running and a healthy meal on the agenda. It was time for comfort and calories.

Softly stepping around the pillows, he had spied your phone upon entering and turned it over to see a number of unread messages both from him and a few friends. But nothing seemed too urgent, no one more important.

As far as he knew, you definitely attended work, so you either started cramping later in the day or probably stuck it out until you got home.

The battery percentage was 42% so he plugged your phone to charge and kept it on silent taking care to turn it over again for when the screen lit up with notifications.

Leaving the room, he made quick work of ordering food instead of opting to make it himself because he was not sure of how long you hadn't eaten and he would rather keep his focus on you.

He squinted at his phone, caught between spicy ramen or spicy chicken or spicy tuna. You liked all three and all were comfort food and he knew of two different establishments that would be happy to add on. A lightbulb went off in his brain and he pulled up a frequent contact.

‘Onigiri Miya, how can I help you?’

‘Ushiwaka!’ Tendo whisper yelled. ‘Can I get an urgent delivery?’

‘Uh… sure, please state your order, name and address, Sir?’

Tendo’s left eye twitched. ‘Wakatoshi.’ He replied slowly. Mildly offended that his best friend did not recognize his voice.

‘... Yes, that is my name, please state yours and what I can get for you?’

Tendo slapped his forehead. ‘It’s Satori!’

On instinct he looked toward the door of the bedroom, hoping he didn’t wake you up.

‘Tendo.’ Wakatoshi Ushijima stated over the phone line, Tendo understood it was partly a greeting.

He sighed loudly, squeezing his eyes to shut out the need to fight with Ushiwaka over the phone. ‘Would you be able to schedule a delivery for two platters in the next 20-30 minutes?’ He knew you would want options and sushi would be the most filling and binding enough to tide you over till tomorrow.

‘Yes. We can squeeze in a drop off for that time. Should I tell the kitchen the spicy tuna rolls are for y/n?’

Tendo scoffed. Y/n he remembered easily. He whistled out a breath. ‘Yes, please tell Samu it’s for y/n, Wakatoshi.’ Y/n was known for haggling Osamu for spicy tuna and any new spicy recipes and he would know how best to make her order.

‘Payment on delivery?’ Tendo offered after a few seconds of soft clicking and silence.

‘That would be perfect. Enjoy your evening Tendo.’

‘I’ll visit you at the shop soon.’ It was a mild threat.

‘Okay.’

The dial tone lasted a second before he clicked off.

Tendo’s eye twitched again as he continued looking at his cellphone, resisting the urge to throw it. Always so calm, collected and unphased was Wakatoshi Ushijima.

He whistled another breath, before dropping his phone on the kitchen counter and moving on to the rest of his tasks.

He put coffee to brew, noted that there was chocolate in the fridge and peeked into the bedroom one more time before he tore his shirt off to shower.

As he pulled his red hair back, a bulk of it in one of your hair ties, so it didn’t get too wet, he caught a glimpse of the outline of a curled up fox on his left rib cage. Long-tail curled around the small form of a female fox, sleeping soundly – his Y/n was just as simple, just as vibrant, just as feline, just as secure in his presence. The matching black fox with a slightly shorter tail sitting up with his ears perked would easily be found on your right shoulder blade.

The match was easily deduced, your connection unyielding, the loyalty unending. He would always have your back… you would always be close to his heart.

Love was very different with you. Somehow it didn't require too much effort to keep up. Were you stubborn, a bit controlling, easily swayed by emotions and headstrong about your opinions, sure. But you were adaptable. You heard him out, kept up with his antics and newly found hobbies and supported his idea to open his own chocolate factory too. A risky idea akin to becoming Willy Wonka and building a castle in the sky, but you supported him anyway.

The world was too big to be realistic but too small not to have firm foundations for any big dreams. And the middle is where you made yourself comfortable. You taught him it could be comfortable.

Conversation was easy. Fighting was hard. Like when you were offered a job at a new branch in a different region — a promotion to run it, and you refused because your heart was with him. He would have moved too, but by then he'd invested in his factory and he didn't like holding you back. Ultimately it was your decision.

Choosing you on your hard days, cooking dinner, letting you vent, providing input or just being there seemed to be everything for you.

Those nights, when tears leaked from the edge of your vision and you weren't strong enough to carry it all, you let it free. He found you then, his tongue lapping at the tears, his long fingers firm on your thighs, his teeth teasing, coaxing, driving you over while he held all your shattered pieces together.

Some days were harder than others. Like when machinery broke at the factory or someone put in the wrong quantity of ingredients ruining an urgent batch or even dispatching too much stock. A start-up that he needed to keep up with, he did his best, but some days his best just didn’t cut it.

Those days you let him swipe at you, let him taunt the reality of what was, his honesty a bit cutting, and unnecessary. But you curled into his side, never allowing him to push you too far away and when he worked his way out of his head, he would hold you as close as possible.

Making love to you on those nights were primal, edgy, kinky, nothing off the table, very few hard limits. And a combination of colors, your only lifeline to stay sane.

He was loud and rowdy. You were quiet and observant. But you could keep him in check and he could hear you in the silence.

Maybe days like these where you were overly sensitive and could cry at the drop of a hat were supposed to be harder. He didn't think so.

In honesty, he saw your monthly cycle from a mile away. Your boobs were sensitive, you looked a bit plush and rounded, your appetite seesawed between not hungry and ravenous and you were extremely restless and horny.

He knew you enough to notice the signs. And he would never tell you this, because you would hate it, but he loved when you were like this.

He didn’t mind the blood. The messy sheets and underwear. Making a last minute run for pads or tampons. And definitely didn’t mind a bit of blood on his cock when you asked him to make you feel a bit better.

When you were this vulnerable and sensitive and overwhelmed he was ready to grab a hold of you with both arms and keep you close. Feed you food. Share showers with you. Just overall dote on you and revel in the right to do every bit of it.

Plus, you already knew he had a thing for dacryphilia. It played a big role when orgasms helped with the cramps. First three days were either the best or the worst. He preferred the former over the latter.

It was not that you didn't let him take the lead on most decisions or consider him in every scenario, but some masculine pride had to be felt at the fact that in these moments, for these few days, you followed him blindly and without question.

Deep in his thoughts he didn't even notice he was on autopilot until he answered the door. He'd already had fresh clothes on, his hair slightly damp and skin flushed from a hot shower. A gray sweatpants he used when he stayed over and an old, frayed at the edges, purple shirt he had bought in Paris, easy material that you wouldn't find too abrasive against your skin.

Once done paying up and thanking the delivery guy, Tendo placed the food on the counter but didn't unpack anything yet.

He would usually take time to tease the person doing the delivery. Something easygoing, like receiving the order with his head upside down, or rising to his full height to be unnerving. If he was in a good mood he might make easy friends with them, provide unsolicited advice to the college goers or tell a mild secret about the volleyball professionals that would make Onigiri Miya an interesting hotspot for a few days. Then he would wait for a phone call where Y/n’s favorite Miya twin would sigh heavily, the simple action taking a lot of effort from the very composed male.

By now it was dark, the sun set at least half an hour ago, and the dull street light hue shone through the lounge. He drew those curtains, making sure no light peeked through. He knew your eyes tended to be sensitive to light and too much exposure would give you a headache, which would only cause you to be even more miserable.

Ticking the boxes in his head, as he switched on and dimmed the lights of the apartment, he unplugged the heating pad and made his last stop to the bedroom.

You had turned over to face the doorway and were a little awake, probably having heard all his shuffling.

He leaned against the door jam.

‘Hi.’ You said softly. A small strained smile on your face. He didn't like when you were in pain, but he masked the twinge of irritation he felt curl around him. Focusing rather on your voice and how you were feeling.

He knew how bad the cramps could get. And he didn't like how he could never fix it. Not yet anyway. A nine month break was a plan for the future.

He swallowed hard, doing his best to stop himself from imagining you with a round belly, a glow to your skin, his baby inside of you… the surge of protectiveness almost making him snarl. Dammit, it was not time to get you pregnant.

Instead he tilted his head to the side. ‘That bad, huh.’

Tears welled in your eyes at his words. He knew it was an involuntary reaction. You were frustrated, had every right to be too. But the irritation he originally thought he could handle could be felt in his taut cheeks.

‘Just a few days.’ You reminded him. A tiny attempt to make the inscrutable expression on his face soften.

‘Can I move you?’ He asked before he could help himself. He needed to be close. He needed you close.

You barely had time to finish a head nod before he made his way over and climbed gently onto the bed.

You expected him to curl up behind you and spoon. But he sat up against the headboard and as gently as possible brought your back to lean against his front.

The slight jostling had you moaning in discomfort. Your clothes were too abrasive. And you were both hot and cold. But the cramps in your belly were the worst. The type of pain that can't be pinpointed or fixed — just felt. It made you hypersensitive to almost everything.

‘Shhh,’ he soothed, his lips finding the top of your head. His kiss was a tender reassurance, making you feel completely together despite unraveling your senses even more.

You tensed slightly when his arms came around you and he placed the heat pack on your belly.

‘Mmmmh,’ you whined in slight relief as the heat seeped through your clothes. You gave yourself a minute before sighing and leaving your entire body weight to sag on your boyfriend.

You felt his smirk. ‘Better?’

Letting yourself lean against his shoulder, you hid your face in the crook of his neck and let the world disappear. ‘What would I do without you Satori?’

‘Exactly what you were just now.’ He replied easily, his fingers crawling up under your shirt and applying light pressure at your sides. ‘And somehow you would find the strength to take care of yourself.’ You groaned at the slight pressure, the pain from the cramps slowly becoming manageable. ‘Eventually.’ He added after a moment.

‘But,’ he stopped and one hand slid up your body to tilt your chin up. ‘I'm here to make it a bit better.’

He pecked you on the lips and let you relax again.

‘Reconsider,’ you teased. ‘This is almost every month for the rest of your life.’

‘I don't scare easily, baby.’ His answer was instinctive. ‘I'm the monster in the dark, remember.’

Awkward position aside, you tilted your head up again to peck his chin. A small reminder that you had accepted every single part of him a long time ago.

You both sat in silence, in the dark. Feeling each other's heartbeat align. His arms around you, strong and secure, his cheek pressed up against your forehead — like no other moment in the world could be more perfect.

‘There's food,’ he whispered after a few minutes, ‘coffee and chocolate. And a very famous chocolatier at your every beck and call.’

‘Spicy food?’ Appetite mood swings aside, your mouth watered at the option.

‘Osamu’s best.’

‘Belgian coffee?’ Only the best that he would bulk order for you.

He hummed.

You smiled to yourself this time. You had no choice but to count yourself lucky. ‘I might just be in love with you.’

‘Yeah? How can you be so sure?’ It was a very Tendo question. Where he knew, as you had both confessed months ago, but he would like an elaboration anyway.

‘Because… ‘

It may be more than a few months since you’d started dating, but how could you explain it without sounding insane? How could you say that you needed to hide yourself in the crook of his neck. That you needed his arms around you and his fingers intertwined with yours. How could you explain that his work cologne was strong but his clean Satori skin felt like home. That his body curled around yours and his lean legs that held firm on the outside of your thighs were a cocoon of safety. That Tendo Satori’s wit and humor and smile and song were a force to be reckoned with and your whole heart only ever craved more of him.

‘I want to turn you around so I can watch the emotions race across your features, but I'm trying to take care of you.’ His long index finger traced his name on the top of your thigh. The sensation tickled, and had you shivering in anticipation.

‘I'm thinking.’ You answered through clouded thoughts.

His chest shook with laughter. ‘Questioning if you love me? You do.’ The only reason you knew not to get offended was because he wasn't laughing at you — he'd never do that to you. His laughter was a Satori-trait. It didn’t always signify humor, rather a clear sign of his confidence, sometimes an acknowledgement, on the odd day… a dare.

‘I'm thinking about how I know I never want to lose you.’ You answered softly. ‘That I always want you with me when it gets tough, and I want to tell you first when things go right, and have you cheer for me in the same way you sing your song.’

‘What about how much you love me?’ He pressed on.

It was not love. It went deeper than that. He knew it too.

On surface level may seem simple, but Tendo Satori lived his whole life making peace with the fact that he chose not to flee and not to fight, he chose to just ‘be’ – he was a monster of a different kind. What did that make you, that you tasted his heartache on his lips and chose him anyway.

This time he did turn you around. His patience running thin when you didn’t answer.

He lifted you up easily, his lean body and muscle strength, aging like fine wine and strategically maneuvered your body so you straddled his lap, the heat pad stuck securely between your bodies and your arms finding purchase on his neck.

You winced slightly at the new position, but you also felt better being face to face. A serious conversation popping up in a very not ideal situation.

His big round eyes shined with mirth and… some other unnameable emotion. Something darker. A promise. And the vow to do absolutely anything to keep it.

He touched his nose to yours as you held eye contact. ‘You're never getting rid of me, you know.’ He pulled back and a slow smile grew on his face. ‘You have to love me.’ He blinked. ‘You have to love me alot.’

His tone mocking you playfully, purposely provoking, stirred up a need to lean in further and bite. ‘In fact, you have to marry me too.’

Your eyebrows shot up, not missing a beat before awarding him a response. ‘Are you proposing?’

‘I can if you want me to.’ He was nonchalant, his gaze now hooded. A sense of all-knowing overcoming his energy. Like you should consider it done if that's what you really wanted, but it would be a mere formality. ‘I can do the flowers in a heart on the floor.’ He brought one of your arms forward from around his neck. ‘I can do candles and fairy lights.’ He placed a tender kiss on the inside of your elbow. ‘I can get down on one knee.’ He snorted. ‘Or both.’ Then his fingers curled between your own and he met your eyes. His own, a quiet smolder of heat and resolution. ‘I can tell you how much I love you too, y/n.’

‘I didn't s—,’

‘You don't have to.’

His other hand snaked around the back of your neck and pulled you further into him. His face, a hair's breadth away from yours. ‘I can promise you forever.’ He whispered against your lips. ‘And a life together. And to stand with you until the very end.’

‘But most of all,’ he placed a tender kiss below your eye, removing the wetness you didn't seem to notice until now. ‘I'll remind you that I can't unlove you. That this scarred heart, this weird complex man, labeled for as long as he can remember, found a world within having you that he never wants to leave.’

You couldn't speak, your throat clogged with emotions too intense to unravel, a cloying need to cry and make sense of what you just heard, but you could only feel. ‘How ‘m I supposed to top that?’

His lips formed a triangle shape, mouth open and his teeth showing off a burst of happiness. ‘You say, yes.’

The single word was cataclysmic. It cascaded through you, all the many reasons you could never not choose him. His sharp wit, his daring nature, his competitive spirit and perspective on life. His weird hair and resilience to stand up after being pushed down, a force of nature in his love.

‘Say yes.’ You repeated back to yourself. There was never any question.

‘Say yes.’ He decreed. His focus entirely on your lips, the heat of his words waiting to fold into yours.

He waited. He didn’t prompt, tease or provoke… he just waited. And for a man that would do anything to get what he wants, that simple action was your undoing. ‘Yes, it is then.’

He captured his lips with your own and immediately the world spun on its axis.

Kissing Tendo Satori was like crossing a line you may never find your way back to. There were no sparks or fireworks in the background, just a deep need. It had the potential to be sickly sweet or bitter and dark, a chocolaty thickness that melted to an unhealthy point of no return. He was an addiction, his smile a borderline threat and demanding lips, a reminder that you no longer belonged to yourself.

‘Guess I have a label now too.’ You sighed softly when you came up for air.

His forehead touched yours, eyes closed, breathing hard. ‘What's that?’

You covered his heartbeat with your hand, making a silent promise of your own. ‘The girl that fell in love with a monster.’

!i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗ !i!!﹗

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unkreativstermensch · 11 months ago

Text

The porch lights are all turned off, so the glowing from the pool is the only thing illuminating the back yard, and it looks a little eery with the steaming water and the dark forest surrounding them. A little magical too. Like mystic healing waters in a hidden cave. He could see a mermaid surfacing, taking him with her on a new quest.

Huh. Maybe that would be a nice plot point for the next campaign.

Steve is sitting on the steps that connect the terrace to the pool area of the backyard, his back turned to Eddie. He’s smoking, judging from the low glow of a cigarette in the dark. Eddie hasn’t seen Steve smoke since like…his first senior year.

His back looks tense and if he heard Eddie opening the door and stepping outside, he doesn’t show it. Just keeps staring into the distance, hardly moving, only lifting his hand to his lips and taking a shaky drag of the cigarette. He seems anxious and fidgety and it sort of breaks Eddie’s heart.

He sits down next to him. Doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at him, just joins him there and stares into the distance too. Steve finishes his cigarette and stubs it out on the floor next to him.

“You have really bad memories here.” Eddie states it more than he says it. “Upside Down unrelated.” He turns to look at him. “Right?”

Steve lifts his head a tiny fraction, his jaw tense. He looks over at Eddie. Breathes. Looks away again, breathes some more, eyes glued to the floor. Eddie can see tears forming in his eyes. He can also see Steve desperately trying to hide them, force them back.

It doesn’t work.

Then, giving up, Steve just nods.

“Yeah,” he says.

Eddie just watches him for a couple seconds, then redirects his gaze to the pool and shrugs. “I don’t think we should hang out here then.”

Steve immediately scoffs. “Try telling that to the kids.”

“Maybe you really should,” Eddie says after a pause. Steve’s expression turns a little confused.

“What do you mean?” he asks. “I tried. Were you not there?”

“No, I was,” Eddie confirms. “Which is how I know that you’re not really the best at standing up for yourself.”

Now Steve actually looks a little offended.

Eddie sighs. “Just…Look, I know you can’t say no to the little shrimps, but they love you. And if they knew how serious you are about not wanting to hang out here, I’m sure they’d stop pestering you about it.”

“What…what do you expect me to tell them, Eddie?”

Eddie shrugs. “How bout the truth?”

Steve looks at him like he just suggested to paint the moon in a dark shade of pink. “The truth?” he repeats and scoffs again, a little disbelieving this time. “Sure,” he then says, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Sure. Next time, I’ll just tell them the truth. I’ll just tell them, in as much detail as possible, about how my father beat me black and blue in every single fucking room of this house and had me scrub my own blood from the banister after he shoved me a little too hard, so, excuse me, if don’t want to spend more time than absolutely necessary here." His voice breaks. "But I just haven’t saved up enough money to move out because, guess what? Having rich parents isn’t all that great when they don’t give a shit about you.”

He tried to make it a big sarcastic speech, but he’s crying by the end of it and Eddie just pulls him against his side, holding him tight. Steve sobs into his chest, curling his arms around Eddie’s back, holding onto him and Eddie’s heart breaks more for him. The boy in his arms is so, so broken, and he’s way too good at hiding it.

“Well, maybe not in those words,” he whispers into Steve’s hair and tries to blink his own tears away, that come at the thought of Steve, soft, sweet, loving and caring Steve, being hurt and hurt and hurt again, by his own parents. And nobody being there to stop it, unlike his mother and Wayne were for Eddie.

Steve clings to Eddie and Eddie just presses him closer, won’t let him go until Steve decides to pull away, softly stroking his back, trying his best to give him comfort.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Steve,” he whispers and when Steve actually detaches his head from Eddie’s chest, pulls away a little and looks at him, Eddie can’t help but gently cup his face in his right hand and wipe one of the remaining tears away.

“S’not your fault,” Steve whispers and Eddie softly shakes his head.

“No, I know,” he says. “But it’s not your fault either.”

Steve takes a deep breath, dodges Eddie’s eyes again.

“I really think you should try talking to them again,” he then tries. Steve immediately turns defensive. “Eddie-”

“No, I just- I mean this is important, you can’t-”

“Eddie, I can’t-”

“You can’t let them just-”

“Don’t make me-”

“You can’t rely on Robin to fend for you all the time, I-”

“Yes, I can, she would-”

“Steve!”

“No, Eddie, what?” Steve looks at him, desperate. “I can’t do it, what do you- what do you want from me?”

He looks so devastated. Eddie pulls him a little closer with the hand still on his cheek. He looks at him. Bites his lip. “I want you to be alright.”

That seems to shut Steve up.

“I care about you, Steve. I care so much.” His left hand slowly reaches for Steve’s hand, grabs it, squeezes it tentatively. “Maybe...even a little too much.”

It’s as far into a confession as he’s gonna go, but Steve understands. Eddie knows. His eyes open and honest.

They’re just staring at each other. Steve squeezes back.

God, they’re so close.

“Do you wanna know one of the reasons?” Steve asks, eyes glassy, voice exhausted. Why is he even prettier, when he cries? It’s unfair to the world but even more unfair to Steve. It shouldn’t look good to be in pain.

“Reasons?” Eddie frowns.

“Why my dad…” Steve shrugs. “Well…why he…did it.”

When Eddie catches onto the words, he softly shakes his head. “Those weren’t reasons, Steve”, he says, his left thumb gently wiping the last remaining tear off of Steve’s cheek. “Those were excuses.”

Steve leans even more into Eddie’s touch and closes his eyes. He sighs. “Either way.”

Eddie waits until Steve opens his eyes again, looking at him expectantly.

“Why?”

Steve smiles, but it’s still sad. Eddie can see him swallow.

“Because of this,” Steve whispers, his left hand curling around Eddie’s. “Because I like kissing boys.”

For whatever reason, Eddie isn’t surprised. Not that Steve ‘likes kissing boys’ at least. He is surprised, however, at how similar he phrased it. For a second Eddie’s thrown back, to more than five years ago, when he, with tears on his face and an ice pack pressed against his busted lip, confessed to Wayne that maybe the rumors about him weren’t that wrong after all. That it wasn’t true when they called him gay or a fag, not fully at least, because he liked girls, he kissed one just last week and he enjoyed it, he did, he swore.

“But I just sort of…like kissing boys too.”

“Ed, my boy,” Wayne told him back then and pulled him into an awkward but warm hug. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”

“Steve,” Eddie breathes and takes Steve’s face in both of his hands to make him look at him. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Steve’s eyes are still glazed and he’s still so pretty it hurts and he slowly bites down on his lip, which- unfair, if you ask Eddie. So unfair.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks and it seems almost as if he’s not asking about the kissing thing anymore. Well, yes, but in a different context. His gaze falls down onto Eddie’s lips and Eddie has to take a sharp breath.

“Oh, I’ve never been more sure of anything,” Eddie replies, his voice barely above a whisper and Steve’s lips pull into a hesitant, soft smile before he shifts a little closer.

“So you…you won’t mind, if I-”

He’s cut off by Eddie kissing him. Steve melts into it, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair and pull him closer, the other fisting the fabric of Eddie's shirt. Eddie kisses Steve deeper, softly hums into it and he can feel Steve letting himself go.

Steve feels safe with him, Eddie realizes.

It almost makes him wanna cry.

When they break apart, they just stare at each other for a second. Still close, Eddie’s hands still cupping Steve's face, Steve’s still in Eddie’s curls and shirt.

“This,” Steve says, a little breathless, which- what? Eddie caused that? “This is certainly a good memory."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robins out of town btw #so she's not there to argue for steve #and this is the first time they all hung out at steves #and only eddie realizes the discomfort on steves face

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carajilloplz · 6 months ago

Text

i. cowboy like me ₊˚⊹⋆ billy the kid

warnings: none really lol, just 1870s bs and low-key flirting

The lace fan in your hand and the spring breeze did little to soothe the flush caused by the early afternoon sunshine, making a light blush crawl up to your cheeks and small beads of sweat pool at the nape of your neck. It was pleasant to be out on the terrace of your friend’s townhouse, basking in the pleasure of not having to fuss over much before the season starts, but the imminent peril of your debut kept your mind elsewhere from the untouched tea and pastries laid out before you.

“Ada, do you suppose your brother’s guest will be handsome?” mused Josie, slumped over her chair turning to look at Ada

“Josie! Hush, don’t say things like that, I’d never be interested in someone who’s my brother’s age.”

“I’m just saying that if he’s going to be staying in your house, eating your food, and disturbing your peace he might as well be nice-looking”

“Perhaps Josie has a point, Ada.” you reasoned “Do you really know who this man is?”

“I barely just learned this morning that my brother’s coming back to New York, give me a break girls.”

“What I do know is that his friend’s a cowboy at his father’s ranch in colorado and that he’s looking for a change of scenery for a while, so my brother’s bringing him up here.”

A cowboy? You’d seen what they’re like on your trips to Texas— rough, rugged, almost uncouth, but there was something that intrigued you about a man that could ride in the ranges all day and never get tired of the landscape’s expanse. You saw a bit of yourself in that. A cowboy’s the furthest you’d expect to have in new york, especially attending the events of the social season.

“Just cross your fingers it doesn’t turn into a shitshow, Ada”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The rattle of the carriage’s wheels on the cobblestone streets did nothing to help the unease in Billy’s stomach as they headed to Ash’s house in a side of New York drastically unlike the one he used to be familiar with. Is this really a good idea?

"Billy, while the people here can be greay gossips, they probably won’t think too deeply. As long as you keep a low profile and not cause any trouble, you should be fine. In due time you can return south," reassured Ash

“I couldn’t be more grateful Ash, really. It’s just going to be real hard to lie about everything.”

The carriage came to a sudden stop infront of a tall brownstone that matched all the ones next to it, creating a cookie-cutter row of houses that ran down the street until the eye could see. Finely dressed people walked down the sidewalks, conversing or walking their dogs, seeing and being seen under the spring sun. Billy stepped out of the carriage with Ash, giving a grateful nod to the driver and going up the steps behind his host. The door was opened by a maid inside, who greeted Ash with a smile, and as he and Billy walked in there was a rumble heard on the stairs as three young girls stormed down and an older woman walked behind them.

“Ash!” exclaimed one of the girls, her face lighting up as she rushed to greet him, followed by the older woman billy assumed was his mother. The other two girls stayed on the staircase, offering ash a polite greeting and peering curiously at Billy. You particularly, wearing a soft cornflower blue dress with your hair pinned up caught his eye, but he knew it was rude to stare so he quickly bright his gaze back to his host.

“Everyone, this is my friend William Henry from Colorado. Billy this is my mother Helena, my sister Ada and her friends”

“Pleasure to meet you ladies, and thank you Mrs. Upson for allowin’ me to stay in your house for some time. I hope it’s not too much of a bother.” As he said this, Billy finally had the chance to take a look at you, his stomach flipping but now for a good reason. His gaze lingered momentarily, trying to piece together the intrigue you caused -- you were beautiful, undoubtedly so but there was lightness and grace about you that captivated him. You smiled softly and nodded as a greeting, and he couldn’t help but notice the lightly flustered blush of your cheeks or the small hairs fallen from your updo that framed your face and neck.

Mrs. Upson snapped him back to reality. “It is absolutely no trouble, Mr. Henry. Hattie will see to your belongings, but for now you can join the girls and I for tea if you’d like.”

Everybody moved to the terrace once more, Ash being whisked away by Ada to catch up, leaving Billy to sit with Mrs Upson, Josephine, and you.

When Billy had stepped through the front door of the Upson’s house, your breath left you for a moment. He was very much a cowboy, slightly rugged and stoic but a gentle demeanor about the way he carried himself that brought your breath back to your lungs. He towered over you just the right amount and his shoulders, which he carried with a humble confidence, were (weirdly) attractively wide. Josie was also right about something— Ash’s guest was absolutely handsome.

“So your father is a rancher, Billy?” Asks Josephine, sitting next to you and nudging you slightly, making you pay attention to the cowboy sitting before you. Josie’s bluntness made you blush, elbowing her and shooting her a warning glance. “I apologize, if you don’t mind us calling you Billy.”

“I don’t mind that at all, I quite prefer it actually.” He swallowed before continuing, a strain in his face that piqued your curiosity. “And yes, my father owns a few ranches along the Arkansas river.”

“How wonderful, must be a beautiful sight.” you mention absentmindedly, picturing the mountains and the rolling hills that you imagine as his home. A small smile breaking his face snaps you back into the moment and it makes your stomach warm and cracks a smile out of you too.

“It is, really. Y’all should visit sometime, it’s beautiful around this time of year.”

“That’s quite a nice idea, William we would love to see your father’s ranches.” remarked Mrs. Upson, “I know you must be tired from your travels, but will you be joining us at the soiree tonight?”

“I’d love to Mrs Upson, what’s the occasion?”

“The girl’s debut this season! It’s just something small with some family friends before the ball tomorrow.”

Billy was visibly confused, “Debut?”

“It’s a ball where the girls get paraded around in white dresses like cattle so they can get married off” interjects Ash, joining them. “Frankly it’s degrading, but it’s tradition.”

Your stomach churned. Degrading is the perfect word to describe it. You were not looking forward to the next few months of insipid suitors and the prospect of a proposal. It’s not like you were completely opposed to a proposal, but this culling process was not the way you wanted to approach it. Yet, as Ash said, it’s tradition.

“Sounds…grueling” Billy admits.

“Absolutely. The balls are quite fun though.” says Josie.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Later that night, the Upson household was bustling with people laughing, drinks pouring, and conversation buzzing with excitement about the upcoming season. Poor billy looked like a fish out of water, dressed in one of Ash’s suits that he was visibly unnaccustomed to using. You looked at the interactions from afar, Billy charming but clearly feeling uncomfortable, as you could see with the tension in his sharp jaw. Josie, a little bit tipsy, comes up to you and leans in with a giggle.

“Have you noticed he’s been staring at you all night?” she whispers.

A blush creeps onto your cheeks and you try to hold back a smile “And what would make you say such a wild thing, josie? Is it the champagne?”

Josie placed her hand on her chest in fake offense “Gah! You offend me darling”

“What’d she do now, Jo?” Ada, also a few drinks in accuses cheekily.

“She doesn’t believe that she is the most stunning girl in the room and that Mr Cowboy here has been stealing a few glances.”

“Oh Josie is right, you’ve been the only one he’s looked at.”

You noticed that he had excused himself from the conversation across the room and headed to the drinks table where the three of you were located, a soft smile greeting you and making your heart flutter. You realized then and there that it was impossible to get tired of his deep, kind blue eyes.

“How’s the night treating you, Billy?” asks Josie. Billy lets out a small laugh and glances at you and Ada.

“She needs to start findin’ her way home don’t she?”

Josie scowls, and you and Ada are laughing at your friend’s cheeky behavior “Gosh, you’re no fun! I’m just getting started, Billy boy.”

“Oh she is, Billy. She always has a few too many glasses of champagne but she’s great fun” you say with a smile. You both meet eyes for a moment and you drop it after a second, a bashful blush painting your cheeks.

“All three of y’all seem like great fun, champagne or not. I’m lookin’ forward to my stay here.” he admits. Billy gives you a smile too, picking the eye contact back up and going to say something before Ada interrupts.

“We should cheers to that then!” she says, serving each one a glass of champagne and handing it to them. “To Billy’s fruitful stay in New York!”

You all clink your glasses together and you down yours mostly in a few sips.

“Josie, you should go play some music!” squeals Ada, grabbing Josie, who is also downing her glass and pulls her towards the piano at the other side of the room.

You and billy share a laugh at the antics of your friends, and you go to serve some more champagne for the two of you. The bubbly buzz of the champagne was getting to your head a little and you faltered a few drops onto your dress.

As you served some into Billy’s glass, you couldn’t stop yourself from commenting—“Your accent slips out a little more when you’re drinkin’ Billy.” you noticed. It was cute though, your time in Texas had made you fond of a southern drawl.

“Does it really? You’ve kinda got one too.” he points out with a laugh, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes.

“Do I? It’s probably the champagne, I apologize.” you laugh, a light smile covered by a laced hand spreads on your face and you look up at him. “I haven’t been down south in forever, I thought it’d gone away”

“You’ve been?” he asks furrowing his brow in question and developing a curious smile. He quickly dismissed the thought of how much he loved the way your eyes looked from below him. “Didn’t take you for a southern girl.”

You let out a shy laugh and looked down, “I am, grew up in Texas and moved here with my mother and sister when I was eleven. My father’s still down there. He’s got an oil field in the Panhandle and takes care of a few ranches in the prairie near Dallas.”

Billy nodded, slightly surprised but still, extremely curious and amused by your personal history. He’d wondered whether he’d seen the same prairies as you had growing up, fallen in love with the same nature.

“Well darlin’ I’m quite surprised,” his stomach churned at his lie— “My father’s ranches run along Colorado but I’ve been to Texas quite a few times and I can’t wait to go back.”

“Me neither,” you confess, staring wistfully at your cup. “My father comes up every once in a while but I haven’t been since I was fifteen.”

“I’d happily take you in as a guest if it’ll take that downhearted look off your face.” he said softly, taking your chin in his hand and bringing you to look at him with the most tender gesture, giving you the most comforting smile. All of this made your heart flip and your chest tighten the lightest bit in fear. You’d had one or two callers before that had caught your heart, but whatever Billy did to you was different. Speaking to him felt familiar and the slightly calloused feel of his hand on you was a commiserative connection back to the wild girl you had once been. Being in New York tamed you, but he had a look that took you right back home.

You couldn’t. With a polite smile, you leaned out of his touch after a few moments and tried to will the blush off your cheeks.

“I’d much like that Mr. Henry, I appreciate the invitation.” He nonned curtly in response, a little confused at your sudden distance. “I should catch up with my friends. Enjoy your evening.”

You walked away, your heart almost beating out of your ribcage as you made a beeline to your friends. Looking around discreetly to see if anyone had noticed your interaction with billy, you caught the curious eye of your sister and her fiance, giving them a dismissive stare and catching up to josie and ada, who were sitting at the piano.

The rest of the night you stuck to your friends, the drinks pouring and the conversation flowing through the bustle of people in the salon. As you stepped through the balcony doors to take a breath, remembering the feeling of billy’s touch and the way he made you feel, your sister followed you through. It was pathetic how he had affected you so much with a single touch.

Your sister, accompanied by her fiance Theo, stared at you teasingly.

“And what was that with Ash's friend?” She asks, “I know you have a thing for cowboys.”

With a rush of blood to your face once more, you dismissed her with a gesture of your hand.

“Stop it Clemmie, you know that stupid crush was forever ago, and there is nothing going on with Mr. Henry.”

“He looks awfully familiar, somehow.” Theo comments. “Feels like I’ve seen him before”

“Theo, my love, you know I adore you but just because we went back home last summer doesn’t mean you know everyone in the South.” Your sister says, giving her fiance a teasing tap on his cheek. “Well, from what i’ve heard through the grapevine he is truly an uncut gem so I say go for it”

You blush, impossibly even more, at her comment. “Shut it Clemmie, my debut is tomorrow and I cannot have you putting stupid things in my head.”

“But he’s quite darling isn’t he?”

Hesitating, you sighed, staring wistfully at the man inside, speaking with Ash and somehow stirring your heart from afar, “I won’t deny that.”

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a/n: HEY GUYS WELCOME so happy to be putting this out omg i've been working on this for forever i hope you enjoy :) part 2 is in the works but in the meantime if you have any ideas for any tom characters lmk jijiji i am very much taking requests (and look at my masterlist so you can see who else i write for !!)

#billy the kid x reader #billy the kid #billy bonney #billy bonney x reader #william bonney #mans has got a million names lol #series #au #tom blyth #tom blyth au

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