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underratedandoverit · 11 months

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okay, last orangekip request lol i love introspective fics, like when a character is thinking about how much they love the other and what exactly they like about them. so maybe a fic where oc is thinking about how much he loves kip during a mundane thing, like watching kip streaming or playing with his hair while he sleeps in his lap. can take place in the belt corruption arc or not. i'll leave it up to you 💚

~2,3k words orangekip (orange cassidy/kip sabian)

set in immortal fears/the belt corruption au. this is literally 2k words of me rambling about details and plot points in immortal fears and then the remaining few hundred words are like. actually something cute and fluffy lmao. i mean sometimes a man just gotta think, you know. but he has a good reason, as you can see in the end :3c

@stormbornpirate

on ao3

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Usually nights like this made him anxious. The darkness surrounded by almost a deafening silence was rarely tolerable, whether he was alone or not, despite the horrors being mostly left behind him a while ago, he could still occasionally see shadows and figures move around in the darkest corners of the rooms he occupied.

Tonight things felt different. Maybe it was because it had been a relatively good day compared to many previous ones, maybe because he was tired but content with today's work that had gotten done even though it wasn't absolutely everything he wanted to do…

Maybe it was the sleeping Kip laying on the couch next to him, curled up against the side of his leg, head laid down comfortably on his lap.

Cassidy looked down at him, a small smile playing on his lips. They probably should have moved to bed ages ago, but ever since Kip had passed out on him almost as soon as they had gotten home, Cassidy just didn’t dare to wake him up and move the two of them to the bedroom. He looked so comfortable there, his steady breathing the only sound in the living room as Cassidy had muted the television to allow Kip to sleep in peace, as he was clearly exhausted after spending the whole day out in town.

Cassidy’s fingers ran absentmindedly through Kip’s hair, watching the bright coils he wrapped around his fingers untangling themselves and settling back to their places time after time. He honestly couldn’t really figure out how they had ended up here in the end, considering the extremely rocky start they had gotten off to years ago at this point.

They never really got along, or at least they never actively tried to. Cassidy was always with his tightly knit friend group, Kip was with his like-minded people. They didn’t hang out, they barely shared greetings in the hallways when they crossed paths. Sure they were familiar with one another, knew that they worked together and occasionally shared the ring too, but that was about the extent of everything.

Then one day, pretty much purely as a prank as Chuck had egged him on to do it saying how funny it would be to mess with them a little, Cassidy interrupted a promo by Miro and Kip. And that was pretty much the beginning of what had become a years long rivalry in most people's eyes at this point, most of them saying that Cassidy costing Kip the International title wasn’t the end of it either. Of course behind the scenes it was, leading them ultimately where they were now, but if people wanted to believe that the story still wasn’t over, Cassidy wasn’t going to let them in on their little secret.

Not that the road to get here had been easy for either of them. Cassidy could still remember Kip just disappearing after Arcade Anarchy was done, only later on hearing about the injury and the surgery he had to go through. At the time he partially blamed himself for it and putting them all through the match, though Chuck had convinced him that nobody was to blame, these things happened. Which, he was right, but knowing that he had been one of the last opponents Kip had faced in that match still poked his conscience occasionally, even after all these years. They had talked about it and Kip had said, multiple times, that he didn’t put blame on Cassidy as this was an issue he had dealt with prior to the match, but it was still occasionally bothering him, for one reason or another.

Maybe Cassidy blamed it so much on himself because he had seen and felt firsthand what being on the shelf had done to Kip when he eventually started to return to shows and the ringside.

His eyes focused back on the sleeping face of the Brit, watching the little content smile linger on his resting face, lips slightly apart as he was clearly asleep. The dark circles around his eyes were partially from the sloppy job of removing the makeup when they had gotten home, but Cassidy knew a big part of them were also the sleepless nights and the nightmares that kept him awake and alert for too many hours of the day. Kip wouldn’t admit to it at this point that it was still a problem, in his mind it had been tackled a long time ago, but Cassidy knew. He knew it all.

He knew how much of the makeup was a facade and how much of it was the real Kip Sabian. As much as the base of the eyeliner was real, the rest of it was nothing more than a cover up. To make sure nobody else saw how much it all had messed him up. The injury, the recovery, the return…

The box, the title hunt, the belt itself.

You could have shown Cassidy a single picture of Kip from any point of this timeline and he could have pinpointed exactly when it was taken, based on nothing but the way he looked. He had seen Kip go from the colorful though vengeful persona to the man in the deepest depths of hell, hellbent on revenge and redemption. While Cassidy hadn’t been there or a part of it every step of the way, he had observed it enough from the sidelines to have seen all of it develop. And he had been there enough to experience the worst of it firsthand.

His hand slowly left Kip’s hair, the palm pressing gently to the side of his head as his thumb ran over the other man’s cheek. Even in his sleep Kip leaned against the touch with a content hum, making Cassidy’s heart flutter at the sight. Despite everything they had gone through, both separately and together, they were still here, able to have this kind of a moment together. In complete peace.

He didn’t intend it to, but Cassidy’s mind wandered on its own back to the first days they spent together after Kip had been broken out of the curse, after he was no longer a champion. Cassidy had been the one to cost him the title, sure, but that had just been the beginning of it. It didn’t take long for Kip to fall prey to the aftermath, just as Cassidy knew he would be. And he had been there to pick up the pieces, to help Kip back up on his feet, whether he liked it or not, whether Chuck liked it or not, whether anyone liked it or not, because Cassidy knew he was the one that needed to do it, and he was the one that was able to do it.

It all started very rocky, and continued very rocky for a long time. Understandably it took Kip a long while to be able to get not only used to this changed situation where he was alone but no longer in control, and to accept the fact that he was not only getting help, but that he needed the help of the man he had proclaimed his nemesis. Cassidy didn’t mind this, it felt kind of bad to admit it, but he knew Kip didn’t have it in him in the end to fight against it. If Cassidy kept up with it, eventually Kip would give in, he would understand how all of this was necessary. Cassidy knew this, as he had been in the same boat before, only he had been in Kip’s place and Kris, and occasionally Chuck and Trent as well, in his.

Cassidy’s hand moved from Kip’s face, grabbing a gentle hold of his hand resting next to his head, easily interlacing their fingers. Even if Kip was asleep, this setup was so usual for them that it was ingrained into his muscle memory even if he wasn’t aware of what was happening around him. Cassidy observed his content face for a while, thinking how long it had been now that he had been able to look Kip like this.

It hadn’t always been like this. Hell, this hadn’t been the end goal at any point. Cassidy was just supposed to be here until Kip was better and able to get back on his own feet and take care of himself again, and then he was supposed to be out. That’s how it was supposed to be, only for a short period of time. Instead it had been almost a year at this point since they had moved in together, at some point down the line they had moved into sharing a bed – at the beginning this was to avoid extra nightmares and make sure Kip got the sleep he needed, but something about that clearly shifted the dynamic in the end.

Cassidy could remember multiple nights looking at Kip’s sleeping face, much like tonight, wondering how they ended up here. Where they would go from here. If there would be more than just him taking care of the Brit like it had been up to that point. Slowly seeing his actions help Kip, to genuinely make him get better and be able to get somewhat back into normalcy…

Somewhere in there, between all the good and the bad, the laughs in the day and confused, fearful tears cried in the night, his heart had decided that Cassidy was feeling more than just the need to help Kip to overcome this huge obstacle.

Cassidy felt extremely lucky to know that Kip shared those feelings with him though, he couldn’t even bring himself to think how things would be if he didn’t.

Feeling a lump forming on his throat the thought, Cassidy closed his eyes, inhaling deeply in hopes of calming himself down. Today had been such a tiring, hectic day it was no wonder him being this tired and having his thoughts running so rampant that it was making him emotional, but at the same time he didn’t want to cry and risk waking Kip up because of it. Cassidy was supposed to be the calm and collected one, he was always the stoic one, he wasn’t the one that was supposed to cry.

And yet, the tears were inevitable.

He barely stifled a sob, but the tears slipped past the shut eyelids, wetting his cheeks. Almost as soon as Cassidy could feel that, he felt a hand being pressed on his cheek, a thumb running over it, wiping away the tears.

“Hey.”

Cassidy opened his eyes, looking down at Kip, seeing the smile still on his lips, tired eyes looking back at him, just barely a hint of worry in them. While it wasn’t usual for Kip to see him cry like this, seemingly unprompted, Kip knew to not get him more agitated whenever it did happen.

“Everything okay?”

Cassidy offered him a smile, wiping his face with his free hand, giving a squeeze to Kip’s hand with the other. “Yeah… Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Kip looked at him, observing his face, like he was trying to find the lie that he knew he wasn’t going to find. “You sure?”

Cassidy nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Just thinking. About this. Us. …How we got here.”

Kip hummed in response, eyes finally leaving Cassidy, allowing him a little breathing room. Kip pushed himself up from his lap, stretching a little with a yawn. As Kip settled back to his spot on the couch next to Cassidy, he leaned closer to the blond, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek.

“I think about us all the time,” he smiled, pressing another kiss on Cassidy’s cheek before he pushed himself up from the couch, stretching again. “But it’s bedtime. Come on.”

Kip offered a hand towards him, Cassidy taking it without hesitation. But instead of letting Kip pull him up, Cassidy pulled the Brit closer and into a kiss. He obviously intended it as a passionate one, one hand running through Kip’s hair to keep him close as the man basically melted against him, in the end ending up sitting in Cassidy’s lap as the breath taken out of him was too much to keep him up on his feet anymore.

“You’ve really been thinking tonight, huh?” Kip gasped as he was finally able to get air into his lungs again, Cassidy just responding with a quick peck on his lips and a smile. Kip looked at him for a while, leaning closer as he snuggled his head against Cassidy’s shoulder with a quiet sigh. “I love you.”

Cassidy’s hand ran through Kip’s hair again, leaning his head against the side of his. “I love you too. But you’re right, we really should go to bed.”

Kip chuckled at him but obliged, pushing back onto his feet, raising a brow as Cassidy didn’t follow suit immediately.

“I’ll turn off the lights and such. You go ahead.”

“Well, if I pass out before you get there, that’s on you.”

Cassidy just chuckled at him, watching Kip leave the living room. Only after he could hear the footsteps going up the stairs to make sure he really was leaving his immediate vicinity, Cassidy stood up from the couch, reaching for the remote to turn the television off. He grabbed the jean jacket that had been laying on the back of the couch, hand stuffing into its pocket.

He looked at the little black ring box in his hand for a moment before putting it into the pocket of his jeans, knowing he could get away with hiding it from Kip for a little bit longer until the morning.

#fic #setting: belt corruption arc #character: orange cassidy #character: kip sabian #ship: orangekip #aew fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction #request

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thrashmaiden · 1 year

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Evilutione5150

@evilutione5150

Writing this here seems like a better idea then hammering it out in my physical journal since this is where our friendship began.

Preparing to age myself heavily as I pour my thoughts out into the tumblr void. Thinking about how online culture helped shape me, helped me find friends and connect with the various fringe subcultures littered around the country. What started as a way to pass time in a telco job with unlimited access to the net and a barely basic understanding I started this Tumblr roughly 12 years ago and Acky aka @evilutione5150 was one of my first friends.

He joked with me about music, art, 80s t.v or movies and never missed a pun or 10 deep simpsons quote. He was kind and abrupt and not once did he slide into my DMS looking for an ass pic.

For a girl on tumblr into heavy metal facing the brunt of aggression from men for ‘doing it for attention’ combined with the misstep of using the hashtag #metalchick to try and find other girls into metal and finding only hate, he was a breath of fresh air. No hate, no pick up lines or sleeze. We just chatted like we were stood next to each other at a show.

The first time he posted about one of my fave local and best mates band I instantly reblogged it, excited, they were going to absolutely kill it and they were making people happy and here was the proof, in Ackys words, they did it! He enthusiastically chatted with me about them and would tell me about their shows from across the country.

He was not shy with coming forward about what he did and did not like but more then anything he was inclusive and passionate. Seems like everyone is striving to be exclusive these days, which is wonderful, but he didnt need to learn that, or be shown, he didnt need to be shamed or bullied into it, it was just a small part of the foundation of Acky.

His passion saw him front of the gig, supporting the scene with promos, podcasts, designing shirts and sharing information on pretty much every platform, and for free.

He did so much, just this one guy and now he is just gone?

His shirt designs are still in my top 3 rotations and I have taken my ‘ big sunglasses, very important’ shirt on every trip I have been on and it has been the best conversational piece. His humor translated well through his art and shirt designs. The dry blunt Aussie humor mixed with heavy metal references have lead to me meeting so many new people and each time I would let him know....dude....people LOVE your shirts!

so whats a t shirt? whats the big deal and how does this make him inclusive?

Ackys humor made me feel seen and made me feel like I had somewhere when for most of my life I have been a nomad. He created a way for people to talk to me, to point at my shirt, laugh and strike a convo and some of those interactions have turned into life long friendships.

I'm sure now there are plenty of fifth element or robocop album cover mash ups but at the time he was doing something really cool for so many people involved in fandoms that spanned so far. I chat to so many people about wrestling, or troma films or sci-fi and retro gaming because of Acky. His humour just translated well enough and was not at the expense of others (unless you were a politician) nor was it just a cash grab because pizza+ninja turtles+slayer=profit. He just threw his passions and artistry together and ran with whatever came out which in turn created a wicked community around him.

We initially bonded over BLS, we had the same necklace charm with the logo on a dinky ball chain straight from the 2010s and would discuss at length what shows we would go to, albums we liked, new projects Zakk worked on and he would share his own musical talent which he had a lot of. He spoke kindly of his son and quite frequently would sacrifice his time or skip shows he had been talking about and dreaming about to spend time with him and not once did he complain about the trade off.

I truly think that over the years he has been my biggest supporter in whatever I do. My strongest confident and kindest advocate. We shared our rough times and he would recommend songs or thow me a meme to let me know he understood.

Now as his name slips down my message inbox, and as I post, his notification isn't the first to pop up anymore I feel a new kind of lonely.

Its a kind of lonely I haven't felt since we met from a feeling that goes deeper then a romance or a family bond. He made a community and he let me in.

I hope I made him feel less lonely and I hope I could be there for him the way he was for me. I hope he knew he was loved and that his art and the community he built will live on in some way. I hope his spot at shows is filled and someone else is there to reach out to let others know they have somewhere to belong, if not in person then just online.

He went through a lifetime of pain and discomfort so the idea he is relaxing with his guitar, or cracking his fingers to write out another review or chuckling to himself as he edits his face into another metallica meme is a nice one.

But most of all I hope he found some happiness or comfort in the really wonderful way he impacted those that had the pleasure to know him.

As time unravels and my tears settle, I will have more to say and share but for now Im posting this knowing he wont ever see it, when after so many years on here, he was one of the only people I kept this blog alive for, for so long.

#evilutione5150 #friends #personal #online friends #heavy metal #aussie metal #australian metal #metal chick #haha #miss you #community #rest in relax

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nightsidewrestling · 1 year

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D.U.D.E: Part 2 - The King Can Go F--- Himself (Set in 2020)

Note: This is set in a universe where Men VS Women / Intergender matches can happen.

Chapter 1: here

Tags: @piratewithvigor @tantamount-treason @thedollmaker16

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places (those chapters will be marked as ‘Mature / sexual content’ just to be safe). Please inform me if you wish to be tagged or untagged from posts. If the text is in italics and orange it’s Kirby’s inner monologue. If the text is coloured but not in italics, it’s either dialogue or a P.O.V change (P.O.V changes will be in bold and translated dialogue will appear in square [ ] brackets), Key below. Quick note on Geia’s text colour: Yes I do know that as Greed she should be in yellow but I decided to colour the men’s dialogue yellow so Geia was changed to be pink like the other women in the story outside of the main 8.

The Main 8: Damo - Bio. Vi - Bio. Billie - Bio. Geia - Bio. Kirby - Bio. Honey - Bio. Eli - Bio. Sara - Bio.

Eli's Vlog P.O.V:

"Ooh, Hound-Of-Hell, thank you for the donation. Hound asks, if the guy barged past Kirby, did Sara attack them or did Kirby give him the death stare from last week's vlog?"

"So, I would have attacked this guy, But I didn't want to scare Renee, and Mox and Kirby seemed to sort out the situation well by themselves." Sara explains, gesturing with her hands as the Fatality plays out.

"Oh, so Kirby didn't eat him alive."

"No, she swore a lot though." Eli murmurs, covering her mouth as she watches the screen.

Sara giggles as she looks at Eli's reaction, not at all bothered by the digital bloodshed.

"How do you play this and not react to the blood?"

"I'm from New York, I lived around people who fought each other and got bloodier than these dudes."

"That's... partially true." Honey murmurs.

Eli shakes her head in disbelief, before going back to reading through the comments until the end the stream, signing off and turning off the recording before sending Kirby text asking where she is and when she'll be getting back to the hotel. Kirby replies within a few minutes saying she'll be back before Damian takes them out for dinner.

Gluttony's P.O.V:

If someone had said 'This is your brain when you think of him' and showed Kirby a picture of a brain with both the reaction of hate and respect and then asked 'who is he?' her answer would either be her father, Damian or Eddie Moore. A few weeks had passed, now the morning, a very sunny morning, of the 5th of August in Jacksonville.

Damien had tasked her with being the person who would take on Eddie in a feud starting today with promos exchanged. Kirby had struggled with writing something on Eddie, given both how little she knew of him and how much she respected him already. She wrote a few lines she expected him to fuel by reacting to. Before she did that though, she had footage to edit for Eli's vlog and emails to write to her family, making her way to the gym for a few hours before the show's taping and managed a good workout before having to get to the arena and confront Eddie.

She took a micrphone after Sara's debut match win against Kilynn King, waiting for Sara to join her at the top of the stage. Her music hits as she walks out, cutting off when she gestures to (listen to the first 10 seconds).

"Go on now girlie, run away with your tail between your legs like the false King you are," She taunts Kilynn before clearing her throat and looking into the camera, "speaking of false Kings... Eddie Kingston, how's he for an indie darling. A man nearing his forties with a beer gut, with a damn beer gut, I'm half surprised he hasn't got both knees replaced or a wife and kids at home like the guys who are half his age." Kirby begins, gesturing with her hands during her promo.

Sara chuckles as she leads Kirby down to the ring and holds the ropes down slightly for her. Kirby steps over the top rope, expecting Eddie to come out at any time and try to fight her.

"Seeing as I have time to kill and a hunger for blood and viscera, come out and play with me Edward. It's either we do it the easy way, you come to me, or the hard way, I chase you down and rip you to shreds."

As if on cue, Kingston comes running down to the ring with Moxley hot on his heels. One thing is clear in Eddie's eyes, rage. Kirby avoids his first punch, sweeping his legs out from under him and pinning him in the corner with the heel of her boot against his throat, slowly choking him out. Mox, having successfully scared Sara off, takes Kirby by surprise with a chair to the back, not knocking her down but surprising her and letting Eddie gain the upper hand and get in a couple good punches before pushing Kirby to the floor and following her down, sitting on her stomach and choking her before Mox pulls him up and drags him away from her and out of the ring.

Kirby sells the pain as she heads to the locker room, changing from her promo gear into some casual clothes before walking back to the hotel and relaxing for a while until she hears a knock at the door, followed by a voice which is slowly becoming very familiar to her.

"Yo, Kirby, You there?" Eddie calls from the hallway.

"Eddie? What are you doing here?"

"Just lemme in before somebody sees me."

She sighs as she gets up and lets him in, her heart rate spiking as Eddie checks her neck, manhandling her before stepping back and sighing in relief.

"What's wrong?"

"I thought I choked you harder than I did. You sold that so well."

"I sold it well because I grew up learning how to sell as well as how to fight."

"You grew up fighting?" He cocks an eyebrow in surprise.

"I'm part of a family of wrestlers, my family owns a wrestling promotion and a wrestling school. I started training when I was ten, and started wrestling for C.R.C, aka the Welsh Wrestling League, at the age of fifteen. I've been in the business ever since."

"And how old are ya?"

"Twenty-nine." She murmurs, sitting on the edge of the bed, next to Eddie.

Eddie goes silent for a minute, looking at Kirby before getting up and grabbing a bottle of water from the hotel mini-fridge and holding it against her neck, "you should have told me this before you started this feud."

"I wasn't the one who decided to start the feud."

"Who was?" Eddie asks softly, changing his position to sit behind Kirby and press the bottle against the back of her neck.

Kirby doesn't answer.

"Kirby, tell me who told you to start the feud."

"Damien told me to, alright, now get out."

"Kirby, I'm just trying to help you."

"Get away from me, Eddie." A look of fear slowly builds in her eyes.

"Kirby." Eddie sighs, quickly losing his patience with the giantess.

"Eddie, I'm serious, you need to leave." She insists, turning to face him and trying to push him off the bed.

"Kid, just let me help." He murmurs, grabbing her wrists.

The two wrestle for a minute before the door swings open and Damian walks in, seeing Eddie straddling Kirby's hips and holding her wrists above her head with one hand, pulling up his jeans with the other.

"Oh shit." Eddie whispers, getting up quickly and rushing out of the room, leaving Kirby alone with her 'boss'.

"Boss, I swear we weren't doing anything like that."

"Shut up, beast." Damien growls.

"Boss, I'm telling you-"

Damian smacks Kirby around the ear, leaving a mark.

"Oww," she yelps in pain, "Boss, I'm serious, we were doing nothing."

"Shut it!" He roars.

Kirby goes silent, only nodding.

"Fucking insolent little bitch!"

Kirby goes to leave before Damian grabs her by the hair. He drags her to the bathroom, chucking her inside and slamming the door behind her. She breaks down sobbing. Damian takes his rage out on the room before leaving. She spends the rest of the night alone, crying herself to sleep. That bastard has secured our fate, Damien will kill us one day and we know how, he'll use our power against us and make it look like an accident.

She gasps as her body springs awake, quickly checking her phone as she hears knocking at the door, '01:00 Thursday 6 August', who in their right mind would be knocking on her door at 1 AM? Kirby flings the door open, a look of utter confusion quickly taking over her sleep-deprived face.

"Eddie?"

"I'm sorry, I heard Damien yelling at ya. I had to make sure you were okay." Eddie murmurs, clearly sleep deprived himself.

"It's not your fault he yelled at me."

"It was though, I should have fuckin' left when you told me to. If I wasn't such a stubborn dick, ya wouldn't... have you been cryin'?" Eddie reaches out to touch Kirby's face, stepping closer as she steps away and crossing the line into the room.

"Leave me alone." She whimpers, trying to avoid him at any cost and falling over her own feet as she steps closer toward the bed, crashing to the floor.

"Holy shit, kid, are ya okay? No, no, come here." He whispers, pulling Kirby close to check her for bruises or any injuries.

Kirby breaks down again, placing her face against Eddie's shoulder as she starts crying. He holds her close, stroking his hand up and down her back to soothe her.

"I got ya. It's okay kid. You're gonna be okay."

"what if he comes in? What if he sees me with... with you?" She stutters, her body trembling.

"If that bastard comes in here now, I'm gonna fuckin' kill him." Eddie growls, holding Kirby tighter against his body.

"Eddie, it's not safe for you to be in here with me... Damien would destroy you, you gotta go, you gotta leave."

"Fuck that, I ain't leaving you to get yelled at and beat by that piece of shit you call 'Boss'."

"But he'll hurt you." She whispers, her voice hoarse.

"I'm not leaving you here wit' him. I don't give a fuck what he does to me. Kid, you need to be safe, let me give you that. Kirby, let me protect you from him, at least outside of work."

"Eddie, I can't have you in here with me."

"Then I'll meet you in the parking lot later, around six, and we can get breakfast together, okay?"

"Okay, we'll do that." She whispers, taking a few deep breaths.

Eddie puts his number in her phone, giving himself the cover name of 'NY Bud' before leaving Kirby to sleep and heading back to his own room. Kirby falls asleep soon after Eddie leaves, her usual nightmares darker than usual. she wakes after around three hours of mental horror, gathering up her things and checking out of the hotel before checking her phone and seeing Eddie's number, she sends him a message before leaving the hotel.

'Update to your plan. I checked out at 5:30, meet me at McDonalds.'

Her phone buzzes as she climbs into her rental car, having rented it the day prior just for herself had pissed Damian off but now she was glad to have spent the money on it.

'Get an outside seat, and a large shake for me. I need to have a smoke.' Eddie had texted back.

Kirby shakes her head in disbelief, not only was she agreeing to Eddie's plans of getting her away from Damian, but now she was agreeing to spend more time than she ever planned to with the New York native as she texts back one word 'sure'. It didn't take long for Kirby to get what she needed 2 large strawberry shakes and 2 large fries, waiting for Eddie to meet her outside. She didn't expect Mox to drop off Eddie and his suitcase before he drove off.

"You didn't tell me what flavour you wanted so I went with strawberry." She murmurs as she waves bye to Mox.

"I wanted to see what you'd choose. These fries for me?"

"Yeah, I don't know what you like so I hope it's okay."

"More than okay," Eddie pauses to light his cigarette, "You don't mind me smoking?"

"I'm more than okay with it, I've been around smokers my whole life."

"Really? Do ya parents smoke?"

"No, my uncles do. All seven of them. Many of my cousins too."

"Big family?"

Kirby scrolls through her phone before showing Eddie a picture of her and her family at their last gathering, "The Rhydderch Clan, owners of C.R.C and trainers to many."

Eddie's jaw drops slightly as he takes in the photo, around 290 to 300 people of all ages, "Jesus H, you have a big family, are those two ya parents?"

"The two on my left, yeah, needless to say neither of them were expecting me to be a giant."

"Any brothers or sisters? Nieces, nephews?"

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god-whispers · 1 year

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apr 18

will you suffer a stripe for Christ

"for i reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us." rom 8:18

i am reminded of the time peter and the apostles (the others remain unspecified) were brought before the high priest and were ordered to be beaten before release. "so they departed from the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for His name." acts 5:41 this after they had previously been thrown into prison and released supernaturally by an angel of the Lord. you'd think that would be enough to convince the hard-headed council, but apparently not. satan is determined in his effort to halt the good news of the gospel.

likewise i am reminded of the story i told recently of richard wurmbrand. "it was strictly forbidden to preach to other prisoners. it was understood that whoever was caught doing this received a severe beating. a number of us decided to pay the price for the privilege of preaching, so we accepted their [the communists'] terms. it was a deal; we preached and they beat us. we were happy preaching. they were happy beating us, so everyone was happy."

even right now as you read these words, many saints around the world are being allotted this grace. the grace to share in His sufferings. "that i may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death." phil 3:10 the word says that he who has suffered in the flesh has ceased from sin.

while one would understandably be reluctant to suffer at the hands of a defeated foe, be it the one thing capable of driving away any sin separating me from my Lord, my voice would mimic the cry of the patriot nathan hale. his cry was "i only regret that i have but one life to lose for my country." my regret would be that i have but one life to give for my Lord.

"yet indeed i also count all things loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom i have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as rubbish, that i may gain Christ." phil 3:8 i might also add this strong admonishment from the lips of our Lord: "for whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake and the gospel’s will save it." mark 8:35

i never was a big soap opera fan. a soap opera is what they call those daily shows that seemingly have a plot stretching out for eternity. i think i had an aunt that used to watch them religiously. i honestly don't know if they still have them or not. i'm too concerned with real life tragedies to dwell on make believe ones.

anyway, there was one called "days of our life." the trademark voiceover promo for the show was: "like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives." in other words, they were quickly passing. those words, though casually spoken for a silly make-believe plot, remain some of the truest that could ever be spoken about any life. yes, "for what is your life? it is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away." james 4:14

now we all find ourselves standing here - the last generation before His coming. some might call it the terminal generation as God has promised, "I will make a mortal more rare than fine gold, a man more than the golden wedge of ophir." isa 13:12

i can almost hear all the saints from ages past - gathered in that great cloud of witnesses - urging us to carry bravely and swiftly that baton they have passed us to finish that last leg of the race. all their efforts to get us where we are was to gain an advantage we would need to excel in our efforts to glorify and magnify the deeds of our Lord and Savior.

"but the end of all things is at hand; therefore be serious and watchful in your prayers." 1 pet 4:7 now is the time if you're going to serve Him. now is the time to make sure the talent allotted to you is invested for His glory. we will never be that great evangelist, drawing multitudes to Christ. we will never have millions to fund and feed the masses. we will never have the elegance of a psalmist to pen words worthy of His praise. but to save one soul for eternity is worth a whole life.

so what about that one simple soul that God brings across our path? what's it's worth to you? what about that irritating relative or neighbor? is there a reason they are there - to hinder or to help? perhaps to receive a witness or a meal; perhaps to explain hope can be grasped in one's darkest fears, light can be found in darkness. i do not think any of our life have such a happening by chance. there is a purpose and a plan if we will only look to Jesus. "we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose." rom 8:28

but remember, that which must be done, must be done quickly. like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives. "he is no fool who gives what he cannot keep, to gain that which he cannot lose." - jim elliot quote.

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itsallyscorner · 3 years

Note

Omg after Tom showing off his thighs in that Jimmy Fallon interview, please please please could you write something about thigh riding him 💙

Not me immediately working on this once I saw it in my inbox💀 I’m supposed to be clearing my inbox out, but when this popped in I couldn’t help it🙈 I also haven’t done smut in a while so THANK YOU for requesting this😌💞

💌.

Use Me*

Warnings: SMUT! She’s a nasty one. If this is a bit messy, I’m sorry, I haven’t written smut in ages😭

(GIF from @tomhollandnet )

“Citizen Kane!” Your boyfriend confidently blurted out to his laptop. He must’ve done something wrong because his eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh, hang on a minute!” He stuttered placing his hand on his chest. You heard Jimmy Fallon laugh from the laptop and explain the rules of the game again. You let out a quiet laugh yourself from behind his set up, though your eyes drifted down to his bare legs that bounced up and down.

For the past few weeks, Tom has been doing promo for his new and highly anticipated film Cherry. While trying to balance filming Spider-Man 3 and doing promo, you guys barely had time to spend together. Not that it bothered you; you understood how hectic his job could get, so you weren’t phased by the back to back Zoom interviews or how he’d join you in bed late at night after a long day on set.

The lost time between the both of you must’ve finally caught up on Tom as he woke up clingier than usual. The moment his eyes fluttered open he felt the need to touch you, to have his skin pressed up against yours, and to feel the warmth that radiated off your body. He just wanted to have you near him—the reason to why he begged you to spend the entire day with him.

You should have been listening to Tom talking passionately about his film, but your mind drifted off to the gutter. Only a few feet away from you was your boyfriend sitting behind a desk, wearing a black shirt, topped with a black blazer, pantless. The only garments covering his bottom half were his boxers and socks, leaving his thighs bare and tempting to your eyes. You tried to avoid looking at them, forcing your attention to focus on the words coming out his mouth, but your eyes were constantly drifting down to his thighs. From the way Tom rubbed his rough hands on them to the way they flexed whenever he moved was starting to cause a pool of arousal to form in your panties.

Tom’s voice faded into the background as you stared blankly at his thighs, imagining how the smooth skin would feel against your wet cunt. You bit your lip, mind wandering to the thought of Tom flexing his thigh while you grinded your hips against him. The ideas in your head caused you to unconsciously squeeze your thighs together. Trying to relieve yourself of the hot tension forming in your body. Though, the action doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend, who had a small smirk on his face after catching you in the corner of his eyes.

A few more minutes pass and he was already finishing up his interview with Jimmy. Though you didn’t notice since your attention was still fixated on his sculpted thighs. That and you were constantly adjusting yourself in your seat because of how embarrassingly wet your panties were getting. You attempted to distract yourself with your phone and scrolled mindlessly through Instagram. You weren’t even looking at the posts, just randomly double tapping and scrolling past them. Much to your dismay, your ways of distraction failed once again. Instead of focusing on your screen, your eyes zeroed in on Tom’s legs.

“You know darling, I could practically feel your eyes burning holes into my thighs.” He suddenly teased you. You felt the heat rush to your face as you hid behind your phone screen.

“I’m not looking at your thighs.” You pathetically lied, turning your phone off, and crossing your arms. His tired but rich chocolate colored eyes capture yours. There was a hint of playfulness mixed with lust in them. He wasn’t oblivious, he could feel the tension growing in the room.

Tom tilts his head to the side, “Then why were you consistently staring at my legs?” He crossed his legs making his thighs momentarily flex again.

“I was looking at your socks.”

“What about my socks?” He quirked a brow at you.

“They’re dirty.” You shrugged.

“Really? But my socks are down there, not up here.” He cheekily quipped, motioning to his lap. You whined and threw your head back against the couch, shoving a pillow to your face in the process.

“Busted.” Tom sang huskily before pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth. He scanned your figure on the couch, eyes lingering on the way your legs were still clenched together.

“C’mere.” His voice was an octave lower, catching your attention. You pull the pillow off your face and see him gazing down at you from his seat, legs spread out in front of him. You toss your phone on the couch and walk towards him. His hands reach out for you midway, then settle to grasp on your hips.

“Mmm, baby, I can smell you.” His hands maneuver around your waist to squeeze your bum, emitting a light hum from you. You draped one of your arms around his shoulder while your hand cradled his jaw.

“Sorry, I can’t help it. Stupid thighs.” You mumble, the blush remaining on your cheeks.

“I want you to get off these stupid thighs. Use me, (y/n).” He encouraged, pulling you closer. You were about to agree but his attire reminded you that he had an interview in a few minutes.

“Wait—Tom, don’t you have another interview?” You asked him, shaking yourself out of your trance of arousal and pulling away from him. Tom whined, dragging you back towards his chest.

“In like 15 or 20 minutes, it’s enough time.” He reached behind you and slammed his laptop shut. He clumsily got out of his chair and led you to the loveseat behind him. He sat down and placed you in between his legs.

While he pulled your shorts and panties off you continued to question him, “Are you sure, Tommy?” He tapped your ankles, signaling for you to step out of your undergarments.

Tom stopped and looked up at you, “Yes, I’m sure. We have to be quick, but I just wanna feel you on me. We could continue when I’m done, promise.” He held your hands and pressed a kiss onto the back of them.

“Ok. But if you get in trouble, I swear—oh.” You were interrupted by Tom pressing a sloppy kiss above your mound. He placed your hands to rest on his shoulders and guided you to straddle his thigh. Once you were settled, he slipped two of his fingers between your legs to gather some of your wetness. He groaned at how soaked you were, leaving his fingers to slide through your folds a little bit longer. When he took them out, his fingers were covered in your glossy juices. He wiped some of your slick onto your lips before shoving his fingers into his mouth.

“Taste so fucking good, shit.” Tom growled, crashing his lips onto yours. The kiss was passionately messy; tongues dancing around each other while your teeth clashed from time to time, along with the taste of you on both your lips. Tom was the first to pull away still biting down on your bottom lip, “Come on, wanna feel you ride my thigh.” He scooted back into the seat, guiding your hips to settle down on his thigh. Your knees ached from kneeling on the couch’s material, but the burn you felt in your core urged you to put up a fight.

The moment you came into contact with his thigh felt like euphoria. Your eyes rolled back and a moan dragged out of your body. The pleasurable sensation of finally relieving the burn in your core rushed through your body. Another tension was building up in you, desperation. Grinding your hips down on him repeatedly made you obsessed with how he felt under you, making you desperate to get more.

You had no problem rocking against him, your wetness made it easy enough for you to simply slide your hips up and down the expanse of his firm thighs. Tom moaned at how soaked his skin felt while your folds rubbed up against him. Feeling you on him made him flex his thigh under you, causing you to ground your hips even harder against him. His thigh was lathered in your wetness.

“Fuck, Tom.” You whimper out, harshly squeezing his shoulders for leverage.

“You feel so good on me. You look so good using me to get off, such a pretty girl.” He praised you. He momentarily sat back to admire the way you looked at the moment. Your hair was a bit messy and you were wearing one of his shirts, which was rudely blocking his view of you on him. His long fingers hook beneath the shirt and lift it up, giving him the perfect view of your cunt gliding on his thigh. His jaw clenched at the sight taking a mental picture.

Tom sat up on the couch, gathering your shirt to bunch up right above your breast. He dives into your chest, yanking down the cups of your bra to expose your boobs. He places wet and open mouthed kisses on them, giving them both the attention they needed. You were a moaning mess above him, enjoying the way his tongue swirled around your nipples. When a dark red mark appeared on your skin he trailed the kisses up to your neck until he reached the special spot below your ear. He started off with light kisses before sinking his teeth down on your soft skin. The bite only spurred you on, hips moving faster against him.

While his mouth worked on marking your neck, his leg that you were on moved to meet your hips. The motion made your clit graze against him, forming whines to bubble out your throat. You fucked yourself harder on his thigh, making sure your clit was also rubbing against him as you chased your release. Tom felt they way your legs quivered around him, signing that you were almost there.

Tom’s arm wraps around your waist, helping you hold yourself up against him. With his other hand he gently cradles your face. His lips brush against yours and your noses occasionally bump into each other. A lopsided grin is on his face as he stares at you. He catches the way the corner of your lips quirk up for a matter of seconds until your features scrunch up in concentration again.

“You’re doing such a good job, darling. I could feel you clenching on me, you’re close aren’t you?” He latches your lips together, swallowing your moans. Your fingers pulled tighter on the ends of his hair, making him groan.

“Can’t mess the hair up.” He managed to get out. You grunted and tugged on his hair before your hands returned to his shoulders. Tom pecked your lips once more before leaning back into the couch. Without any warning, his hand lightly swated your clit. You yelped in surprise at the sudden contact. Tom only chuckled, earning him a slap to the chest and a glare from you.

“Sorry, sorry, I know we’re short on time.” He apologized and connected his thumb to your clit. The rough pad made tight circles around your bud. With the friction of his thigh against you and his thumb on your clit you were seeing stars. You were so out of it, only feeling the euphoric pleasures coursing through your senses. The quicker and sharper his circles got, the closer you felt to your relief.

“Just like that Tom, fuck. Keep going I’m close.” Your back arched. Tom shoved his head in between your breasts again, littering sloppy kisses on your chest.

“C’mon, cum on me, baby.” He urged you, holding your body flush against him. His head was tilted up at you, staring at the way your mouth was hung open in pleasure. He loved watching your face when you came, it drove him mad.

Your stomach tightens along with your legs that straddled him. You let out a mix of a shaky gasp and moan, feeling the knot in your stomach come undone. Tom threw his head back against the couch while watching you release on his thigh, your cum gushing out against him.

“Fuck.” He breathed out, eyes glued to your release. You let out pants as aftershocks from your release wracked your body. Tom was quick to guide your body against him, not caring that his clothes might wrinkle. He placed your head in the crook of his neck and pressed kisses along your face. His large hands stroke your back, helping you come down from your high. Laying against him, all he felt was you; from your heart rapidly beating against his chest to the feeling of you trying to steady your breathing.

“You alright?” He whispered against your hair. You tiredly nodded, giving yourself a moment to calm down.

“Yeah—just need a minute and I’ll get off of you.” You reply, tenderly kissing his collarbone. Tom whines tightening his grip around you, “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t either, but,” you reach over to tap the screen of his phone, “You’ve got eight minutes left till your next interview.”

You feel something firm poke against your leg, “How you ever wondered if you can cum in under eight minutes?” The sentence caught Tom off guard, making him raise a brow at you. You tilted your head south of his body, motioning to his dick.

Tom shifted his gaze between you and his hard on, “Wanna find out?”

Tom Holland + Character Tags:

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ageofevermore · 3 years

Text

Eighteen | T. Holland

Summary → you’re tired of feeling like the world silences you, but after an interview with sebastian and anthony, you start to wonder if maybe it’s your fault.

Warning(s) → mentions of anxiety, mentions of sexual harassment, mentions of inequality in gender roles, use of the word slut, fluff if you squint

Word Count → 1.9k

Note → this is a heavier topic, one that might be personal to some. if you don’t think you can handle the subject matter, please don’t force yourself to. this is relatively watered down, but it doesn’t take a genius to see what’s not being said. the ending features boyfriend!tom consoling the reader, so it does end on a fluffy note, but don’t hold out for those few ending paragraphs.

add yourself to my taglist

It’s getting hotter in the interviews. A thin layer of sweat sparkles on your skin, and even though the air conditioning has been turned down multiple times, there are too many people in the room to feel any drastic differences. It’s unfortunate for you. Hot flashes are a lovely addition to your anxiety disorder, and press always sets your nerves ablaze. It doesn't matter what project you’re promoting, who you're partnered with, or what you're wearing-- you’re always hot.

Your cheeks are flushed dangerously when the last interview before lunch is called for yourself, Sebastian, and Anthony. This is your first press tour as an adult. You joined the marvel franchise years ago, when being eighteen felt like the equivalent of turning thirty, and you weren’t blind to the changes of tone. People were harsher to you, more forward. If they weren’t shutting you up, they were hinting at something less then appropriate, usually something sexual.

The next interview started with a short introduction to the media outlet, and your interviewer. He was middle aged, kind smile, salt and pepper hair. He asked for your names, then he told you his, and one by one he shook your hands. His grip on you was criminal, lasting longer than was comfortable. Sebastian and Anthony we’re oblivious to the few extra seconds of contact between you and him, but it made your skin crawl in a familiar discomfort.

Your fingers curled into fists, heart high in your throat. The questions started out easy. They were mostly directed towards the boys, like always, but this time you couldn’t find yourself to be annoyed. You had dealt with handsy and sexually charged men before, but he set a fire beneath you. It wasn’t behavior you should tolerate, but being a woman in the industry, inappropriate touches and glances we’re easier ignored then dealt with. When you spoke up you caused drama, made headlines, attracted nasty social media comments that called you a whore. It was easier to just internalize.

“Y/N.”

You hummed, looking towards the call of your name. He was smiling sweetly at you again, a predatory glint in his eyes that put you on edge. You shifted your weight closer to Anothony unconsciously giving the hungry man your professional attention and a nod.

He shuffles through his index cards, but his eyes don’t read the scripted questions his employers have supplied him with. It’s not often male interviews do their own research, usually they’re briefed by a colleague and handed a set of questions and topic point by a higher level employee, but this man doesn’t even read the card before he’s staring you down and opening his mouth.

“You finally got the Stark suit update,” He says, motioning towards the promo poster that shows off your CGI suit in all of its edited glory. Although the actual costume is breathtaking, the computer effects give it an entirely different, more technologically charged, feel.

“Yeah,” You nod, a forced smile on your lips as you try to ease the uncomfortable tension from your tone. “She’s finally--”

He cuts you off before you can give him any explanation for the upgrade. He isn’t the first one to address your new wardrobe, but he’s the first one to leave you antsy and uncomfortable. Sebastian frowns when you’re cut off, but he doesn’t think much of it. He lets the man continue, though a professional sharpness pulls his grin into a scowl.

“Were you able to wear undergarments underneath it? It’s tight, doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Was there ever a moment where you reflected how much your wardrobe has changed through the years?” He asks, a dirty grin on his lips.

Sebastian and Anthony are shocked at the blunt, inappropriate construction of his question. The public eye knew nothing of your battles with body image, or health concerns that lead to surgery. Your mind was plagued with doubts and self-criticism, and his invasive, pervy question both infuriated you and broke you apart.

You stutter to find an answer, heat overwhelming you. Your hand grips onto Anthony’s arm, and you can’t decide whether anger is what burns your skin or anxiety. Are you making a big deal of this? You don’t know. You feel like you have every right to feel violated and uncomfortable, but you’re a young woman in the entertainment industry, isn’t this the kind of ignorant commentary you signed up for? You don’t know anymore. You grew up with people always having an opinion on your appearance, sexualizing you as early as twelve. You’ve carried around pepper spray and self-defense keychains long before you even had an understanding towards predatory men and sexual assault. You’ve been conditioned by the world and the media to carry on with your day, no matter the broken boundaries or disrespect. You’re tired of remaining silent, feeling like your less than your male counterparts. Women and men should hold no differing values in society, and yet you walk to your apartment with keys between your fingers and Tom doesn’t even lock his front door.

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question.” You choke out, voice hard and nowhere near the soft and frilly pitch it usually obtains. You’re livid, absolutely pissed to the point of a quivering cupids bow. You’re humiliated, and horrified. Your feelings are everywhere, but you remain as professional as you can. If you yell, try to defend yourself at all, you’ll be painted as a diva in every media outlet for the next week, subliminally inviting backlash and slut-shaming comments into your social media messages. If Sebastian and Anthony come to your defense, they’ll be sung high-praises.

The double standards men and women are held to, especially in the industry, is infuriating.

He stumbles out a response, but his time is already up. For the first time today, you’re thankful these interviews are only ten minutes. He leaves the room, shown out by security, and even then he still sends you a wink over his shoulder as if your glimmering eyes meant nothing.

“Hey,” Sebastian's voice is soft, his hand on the small of your back. You flinch away from his contact, head heavy in memories you’d rather forget.

“Sorry,” You mumble, voice trembling with tears that you refuse to let fall. You’ve already been humiliated, you don’t need to further paint yourself as some helpless teenage girl. “I’m sorry. I’m going to go find Tom.”

Anthony and Sebastian nod tightly. They watch as you quiver in your heels, hands clenched into fists at your sides. They’re proud of the way you handled yourself, though still absolutely enraged that any adult would find it appropriate to address you like that, especially in a professional setting.

You stumble into the dressing rooms, right into your boyfriend's chest. Your mind is racing, but the minute you attach yourself to him, you break down. Shy sobs break Tom’s heart. He holds the back of your head to his chest, other hand on the small of your back and wrapped around your waist as you cry. You’re trying to stay quiet, but the attention is already on you. Chris and Robert are worried, and Zoe’s trying to act like she hasn’t noticed, but they don’t all watch as you try to console yourself with your boyfriend's warmth.

“What happened?” Tom’s voice is soft, trying to keep this a private moment. He tries to move the both of you back into a corner, but you panic and squeeze around his waist tighter. “Baby,”

You and Tom have been dating for six months, and although you’ve shared with him stories of your traumatic experiences as a woman living in LA, he’s never seen anything upset you like this.

“I’m such a slut.” Your words come out so shy and small, you aren’t even sure you can hear yourself. No matter how many times you tell yourself that your makeup and clothes don’t give men permission to make passes or feel you up, it’s getting harder to believe that your verbal consent is as strong as your clothes. Maybe you are asking for it, and in a wave of nausea, disgusted with yourself, your arms leave Tom’s waist to pull at the bottom of your borrowed dress.

You’ve been hit on in sweats before. In ball gowns and crop tops. Somebody’s even pushed themselves against you while you wore Tom’s hoodie, but you still convince yourself that it’s your fault. That you we’re asking for it.

Tom’s jaw sets harshly into place, and he tilts your chin upwards to meet his eye. His brown stare is hard, only adding to your distress. Maybe he agrees. Maybe he’ll blame you for what just happened. He’s probably going to break up with you. Other guys just can’t keep their hands and eyes off of you. He doesn’t want a slut for a girlfriend.

“What the fuck did you just say, Y/N?” His tone causes you to flinch, words bouncing off of the dressing room walls. Everyone flinches, hearing only his heavy response. You try to divert your attention, but Tom squeezes your jaw, forcing your eyes back on his. “Say it again.”

“I’m such a slut.” You sniffle, submitting beneath his fiery glare. Tensions are high as you try not to break down again. Apart from Tom, everyone in the room has watched you grow up, never losing that shy and sweet sense of yourself. You’re an exuberant light, a brilliant scene partner, a rising star who has big things in store for the future. You are many things, but a slut, isn’t one of them.

Tom looks behind you, glaring straight at Anthony and Sebastion who are both stone eyed and still. They’ve not calmed down any since leaving the production room, instead, it seems their anger has only risen. The sight of you so distraught churns their stomachs.

“Some asshole tried to make a pass.” Sebastion said in short, words angry and delivered as such.

Tom’s breath hitched, his arms tightening around you and pulling you closer to his chest. His chin digs into your crown, eyes pinches shut as his hot exhale feels heavy.

“You aren’t a slut, Y/N.” He doesn’t leave any room for argument, but you try anyways. Tom has no patience for it, and so he tilts your head back and plants his lips against yours harshly and eagerly, desperate to show you love and intimacy. “You. Aren’t. A. Slut.”

You nod, ducking your head back down into his chest as you try to believe him-- try to remember that you never asked for hands around your waist, or cupping your boobs. Wolf whistles, or handshakes that turn into forced frontal hugs. You didn’t ask for any of the harassment, no matter the outfits you wore and what they revealed.

Tom lowers his voice, whispers melting into your hair, “This isn’t your fault, baby. Please believe me. None of this, is your fault. It’s disgusting and inappropriate, and you don’t deserve to deal with any of it.”

You sniffle. You can’t tell him you believe him, not yet. Not when your heart is so heavy. Maybe one day you’ll believe him, but that’s just not now.

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visd3stele · 3 years

Text

The beauty and his beast - wolfstar fic

summary: two different nights, years passed, some things changes, but some never do

TW: nightmares, PTSD, trauma, non depictive child abuse, themes of suicidal thoughts

A/N: I loved writing this, but I am so nervous about it. What do you think?

requests ; masterlist

fanart credit picture down below: @lunopal

Ragged voices licked his ears. Three different ones overlapped in a cacophony of hissed whispers and dooming laughs. From where he stood in the middle of his cell, Sirius could see a silhouette standing in the open door. Open, because there was no way he could escape. Three Dementors floated in a circle around him, so fast he could barely tell them apart. Black smoke, a burning smell and shadows whirled under low hoods, bringing him to his knees.

The man in the door curled his lips in a terrible grin. The Dementors were his and with each mind they broke, with each soul they ate, the wizard gained a sense of pride and morbid joy.

Sirius knew it. He knew the man, back in his school years - how far they seemed now! But Sirius also knew he was delusional. The Dementors bow to no one. They have no law, no caretaker, no master. Only their purpose.

Continuing to swirl around his frail body, sinked in to a third of what it used to be, bony edges poking out through dirty thin layers of clothing, the Dementors closed in on Sirius. Flashes of memories flew before the Animagus' eyes. James' empty ones, still open in a silent plea for his sacrifice to be enough to save his family, his brown hair dipped in his own blood, body angled in an unnatural position with his hand stretched forward above his head as if reaching for his best friend. Lily's tears, yet to dry and evaporates, stained her too pale face, the red of her hair sprayed around too lively; no blood pools formed around her lifeless body, laid on its belly as it fell onward, as if leaping away from her son, so the baby won't have to see it. And finally Harry, his godson, crying in his crib, a brown-red crust shaped like a lightning forming on his forehead; his green, small eyes, swollen, puffy and trimmed with red followed his godfather as the man turned his back on him and ran outside.

Sirius cursed loudly, beginning to shackle the chains trapping him in place in case he tried to escape the daily visit of the Prison Warrant and his guards. But the now twenty five years old has stopped trying to run a long time ago. What good would it be? There was nothing - no one - waiting from him out in the world. No, Sirius trashing around the cold, dirty dais, snapping the metal biting in his wrists, bruising his effervescent skin and almost cracking his bones as well was his attempt to run from his own mind. If he could just wipe the haunting memories away with a shook of his head, a twist of his back or punching and kicking the thick walls.

Fragments of thoughts he wasn't sure belonged to him invaded his mind. "Your fault. Traitor. Another Black." And, worst of all, one pained howl, a desperate scream in the night. Sirius wasn't sure if he heard it, or the dark creatures around toyed with him, but Remus' wild, feral yell of pure hurt reverberated inside the bars of his mind. The young wizard shut his eyes closed tightly, hoping to brush away the sound, the voices. Failing to do so, he released a scream of his own, only a hint of Padfoot, the big, black dog, his alter ego, printed in it.

The thirty four years old man yanked up. The bed sheets were soaked in his sweat, the blanket throwed on the floor. Sirius passed a shacking hand over his face, feeling the hot air leaving his mouth in short breaths, than big inhales with no exhale, the burning of tears on his warm red cheeks and the running nose. His lips felt sewed together all of a sudden, as chill after chill entered his body, cooling off his face too quickly.

It was just a nightmare, he knew. He escaped Azkaban, has been a free man from over a week already. But Sirius Black couldn't let the twelve years in prison go. The things he saw there, what the Dementors showed him day after day, carved their way in his brain, refusing to leave. Yes, he may have been wrong: his family and living friend welcomed him back. Harry was warming up to hid godfather, Nymphadora Tonks was eager to know her uncle, Andromeda even reached out, sending letter after letter and Remus - well, Remus hugged him tight and apologized for believing that filthy rat's lies. The werewolf spent his days, from first ray of sunshine until the last drop of sunlight. But the nights he went home. The nights when ghosts came to play, wounds teared open and pain leaked like blood from Sirius' heart, Remus was gone.

He tried to remember a time they didn't share a bed - before Azkaban, of course. Not in a sexual way, though it came to that in the late years of Hogwarts too. But simply for the comfort they each found in the other. It started in the second year, Sirius recalled.

Four twelve years old boys in a room seemed like a receipt for disaster. In a way, it was. After finding out their friend's secret, James, Sirius and Peter decided to sneak in the herbology cabinet, get Mandrake leaves and become Animagus. Seeing as they got away with it, the four created their enchanted map and become the Marauders, messers Prongs, Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail, waltzing their merry way through Hogwarts.

Not everything was merry and joyful, though. And despite their reputation, the wizards could be grave and serious when need be. Like one night, when Sirius woke them all up with his cries. The grey eyed boy stood on top of his bed covers, knees drawn to his chest, hands tangled in his shoulder length hair. He leaned back and forth, trembling. Front teeth bit in his lower lip to prevent him from making more noises as silent tears rolled down his face.

The other three boys thought Sirius saw a mean spirit, the haunted glassy look in his eyes only proving their theory further. But no danger threatened in the shadows of their room. No monster lurked in the darkness.

James was the first to get up and surf his way to the pure blood. Remus followed closely behind while Peter watched everything from the safety of his bed. Sirius' episode truly spooked him.

"Padfoot, mate, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. 'm sorry. Go back to sleep."

James and Remus changed worried looks at the sourness of Sirius' voice. Their friend would usually be the epitome of confidence, yet now he seemed to desperately try to shrink and disappear. But it was late and they were tired, so the boys decided with a swift nod that they'd pick up the subject in the morning and climbed back under their covers.

Remus jolted awake. Two out of his three best friends were sound asleep. Sirius still stared at the wall in front of him, breathing jerky. Due to his fine, superior hearing, the werewolf discerned the Black boy's muffled whimpers, sounds that kept him from sleeping.

"Sirius, why are you so afraid?" Remus whispered.

" 'm not afraid, Moony. Sleep."

"Can't. Werewolf remember? I hear you trying to not cry. You can cry, you know."

"I know." Sirius said in a tone that clearly showed he doesn't. With a sigh, Remus threw away his blanket, slipped his feet in his shoes and trailed his legs over the dorm's brick daises until he reached his friend's bed. The brown haired boy signed Sirius to scoop over, which he did, to both wizards surprise.

Later, when talking about that night, Padfoot admitted he was too tired, too shocked and too lost in his mind to think and only acted on auto pilot.

Remus brought the blankets to cover them both, still seated as they were. "Do you need a hug?" Sirius hesitated before answering, but eventually he nodded twice, a quick movement as if the boy was ashamed to admit it and wanted to pass unnoticed.

But Remus smiled softly and wrapped his hands around him. Sirius clinged onto his friend. The warmth of the gesture, the cozy closeness of a settled, stable body, a person that cared deeply about him and only him as a being, set the restrained tears free. Remus held Sirius until his body stilled and he could feel no more tears soaking his pajamas.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sirius swallowed, but the words demanded to be spoken. "Yes."

"Alright. I'm gonna ask you questions and you can answer with yes or no. It's your choice if you want to elaborate. Sounds good?"

"Yes." Sirius said and for a moment his usual, ironic self showed up.

"Was it a nightmare?"

"Yes."

"About your family?"

With a shudder, the grey eyed boy forced out another "yes."

"Your brother?"

"No."

"Your parents, then. Did they - did they do something to you?"

"Yes." Remus' arms tighten around him and he clunged harder to his friend as well. In the safety of the Gryffindor dorm, shared with his most trusted peers, comforted by the scarred boy he became an Animagus for, Sirius stumbled over his thoughts. The dream weighted heavy on his mind, but he didn't know how to let free of those horrible images that haunted him. Not images, memories. Sirius feared that if he said anything they'll become real. Not that they weren't, but they happened in the past. Talking about them, invoking them, would feel like living through them again.

And yet, part of him wanted to talk. He needed someone to know. Sirius couldn't be sure why. Maybe to hear that it was nothing, that it was ok and he shouldn't be such a weak ship. Or maybe to hear it was normal and he wasn't alone. That is how parents love and his didn't hate him after all. Or just to show someone how broken he were, hoping to be picked un and patched.

So, speaking slowly, but evenly, Sirius retailed his nightmare to Remus. In his sleep, the twelve years old boy was hanging some muggle posters in his room: bands, promo for concerts, normal things a boy his age would own. He smiled broadly, music turned on quite loud, muggle music, when his parents bursts in. Walburga and Orion both yell, but Sirius can’t understand what they’re saying. It’s pretty clear they are very upset with him, though. And the reason couldn’t be more obvious.

“Sirius Orion Black!” his mother shrieked. “Ungrateful, worthless child! You are a stain on the family’s name.”

“You should be ashamed of you. As much as I am for being your father. Well, say something. Look how upset you made your mother!”

“Sorry,” he’d try to say, but his voice would break, too small to be heard by the angry adults. Which only worsened their state. Sirius watched frozen in terror as Walburga took her wand. Only his head seemed to be able to move, and he was shacking it vigorously, wiping his cheeks with it. The young wizard tasted tears on his tongue as he repeated the same words over and over again “no, please, ‘m sorry!” It did nothing to help.

Remus stayed in his bed that night.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The moon shone mockingly on the window. Last night has been a full moon and Prongs, Padfoot and Wormtail failed to properly contain Moony. It happened quite a lot in their first days as Animagus. As normal, they got better over the years, the four boys falling in rhythm like an oiled machine. By the time they reached excellency, though, mistakes happened. James, Peter and Sirius thought less of it, but Remus took it badly.

As he laid in the dark, blanket drawn to cover his head as he hugged his knees on the side, the young werewolf tried to remember what happened last night. What if he killed someone? What if he will next time the boys won’t be able to restrain him? Is it worth living like this, a danger to himself and the ones around? What if he hurts his friends?

“I can hear your mind working from over here y’know?”

Remus straighten up in shock. “Padfoot?”

“Well, it’s not the Fat Lady. What’s on your mind?”

Remus shrugged, but Sirius wouldn’t stop pestering him until he poured his deepest fears and doubts.

“You won’t”

“How do you know this?”

“You won’t, Moony,” Sirius said more firmly this time.

“Alright.” Remus clearly didn’t believe him and his worries still troubled him as he turned to lay back down. He heard footsteps, then felt the mattress shifting as another body climbed over his bed covers. “I know because I am Sirius Black and you are my friend.” Less than an hour later, both boys were sound asleep.

Sirius slept in his bed that night.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

It became a tradition. At first, they'd wait until one of them woke frozen in pain and panic, then they'd stay together and talk silently until they could sleep again. Later, Sirius and Remus would wait until James and Peter were out to decide who's bed to sleep in, knowing one of them - or both - ought to need the comfort.

The man kept trembling. His sobs caught in hiccups, leaving him out of breath. He did it. He left Harry for revenge. He practically made the choice for James and Lily, selecting Peter as secret keeper. His brother died and instead of mourning him, Sirius rejoiced bitterly in his cell - until he found out how he betrayed the Dark Lord.

He was just another Black. An evil presence in the world, despite his efforts. Gryffindor or Slytherin, it mattered not when his genes crafted him. Sirius tried so hard to be good, brave, loyal and the only thing he managed was to disappoint everyone. He was a nuisance and a burden and the a stain on the world. It'd be better if his sorry, useless existence would be wiped off the surface of the Earth.

Such thoughts clouded Sirius' mind when a light knock pulled him out of his head. "May I come in, Padfoot?"

The man almost broke at the nickname. Only one single person now would know to call him that. The weight of the realization hit him and another wave of tears carried the air from his lungs.

Receiving no answer, Remus kicked the door open, worry written all over him. The werewolf was panting and sweating from running, eyes wide close to terror. "Padfoot!" Seeing his oldest friend's state, he rushed to his side and hesitated only a moment before drawing him in for a hug.

"Nightmare?"

"Yes."

"Azkaban?"

"Yes."

"Dementors?"

"Yes. They-" Sirius gulped, shame tightening up in his throat. He was a thirty four man, for Godric's sake! And yet he cries like a baby. But the path he and Remus trailed off to, simple questions, any type of answer, so familiar and soothing he couldn't stop. "They tortured me. Showing me their - James and Lily's - death over and over. I left Harry, Moony. I stepped inside the house, saw that beautiful, brave child, suffering and I took off after bloody Pettigrew!" Before Remus could say a thing, Sirius continued, teeth so barred that words barely spitted out. "I heard you screaming too. I don't think that was real, but it sounded so broken, Moony. Twelve years, over twenty four full moons alone. 'm so sorry. It's all my fault."

Remus inhaled sharply, pulling Sirius even closer to him. He rubbed circles on his back, leaning to whisper in his ear "It was not, Padfoot. I should have trusted you more, star. If anything, it's my fault for spending so much time alone. So much, in fact, that it seems I neglected you, our agreement."

“It was my fault.” Sirius insisted.

“No,” and not letting him time to argue, Remus added “I know so, Sirius, because I am Remus Lupin and you are my... friend.”

Sirius pulled away only to find a reluctant smile playing on Remus' face. His body reacted before his mind could process its moving. He moved on the right side of the bed, still avoiding the other wizard's eyes. "Why are you here, Remus?"

"I couldn't sleep either. Thought to check on you as well. And good thing I did. You looked..." The professor didn't know how to finish that sentenced. Hollow. Empty. Dead. Scaringly close to death, in fact.

"Merlin! Thank you, Moony. You don't look bad yourself."

Remus chuckled. "Are you feeling any better?"

"No. You?"

"No."

Both men laughed. A bitter sweet sound passing through silence, taking with it any sign of discomfort that existed.

"I'm glad you came."

"Me too."

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thedreadvampy · 4 years

Text

a non-exhaustive list of Friend Gossip about the Mechanisms performers that I will never expand on or attach names to because I love Chaos but don’t want to impinge too much on people’s privacy

once swam across the river Isis naked to sneak into a college party they were not invited to

has offered as an explanation for why they are Like That ‘my dad did a lot of LSD in the 70s and married his moleskin trousers’

notoriously sexy

has a crush on Jean-Luc Picard, but specifically and exclusively when he’s been assimilated by the Borg

fantasised about turning DTTM into a wrestling promo culminating in the band turning heel in character and suplexing Jonny through a sound desk

punched a duck (you know who this was but I will not be elaborating)

nearly killed themself coming off a tyre swing over the river and landing on a sharp sheet of metal buried in the river bed. limped home bleeding buckets, was frolicking in a field two hours later as if nothing had happened

habitually frolics in fields

terrifyingly buff. can change clothes while doing a one-handed handstand.

trained in sword, axe, bow and kickboxing

nearly threw up and actually did pass out before DTTM and then went on and performed without showing a glimmer of how much pain they were in

used to sleep on a bare mattress in an empty room surrounded by nothing but broken mirrors. thought this was unremarkable.

used to sleep on the floor next to their bed. claims their ultimate goal is a room where the floor is one big mattress.

scared of cats

claims to be the king of cats

generally accepted to be a literal changeling (not Jonny)

refuses to use digital equipment. uses a 1950s vintage landline and a mechanical typewriter. collects vintage cameras.

considered becoming an Anglican priest (2 people)

once got so furiously angry at author David Mitchell that they threw a book across the room and ranted for two hours about his pointlessness

met while playing dwarfs in an intensely edgy and artsy (and allegedly extremely bad) retelling of Snow White, when both of them had auditioned and failed to get roles in the far more successful and fun Batman: The Pantomime

greatest theatrical triumph was playing a character called Ratman in a yr 6 school play

once got lost in the highlands and encountered a large bearded man who put them up for the night and later turned up at their door at 3am brandishing a sword and claiming to be hunting pine martens. Jonny later referenced this experience in an episode of TMA for an audience of the about 10 people who would actually get the reference

said they wouldn’t try cocaine because it would be too expensive to develop an addiction and they wouldn’t be able to afford Warhammer figures

owns at least one fully functioning sword (to my knowledge, at least three people)

once received a gift of a replica battleaxe, opened it while saying ‘I have been trained in weapons safety it’s fine’ and then cut their hand open on the packaging

Banned from London Zoo for arguing with the animals

went on a rollercoaster while suffering sunstroke. got so disorientated that upon getting off they walked directly into a wall and screamed in panic.

walked out of their own soundcheck because they saw a pokemon they wanted on pokemon go

got free food at the cafe near their recording studio because the proprieter thought they looked like a strungout rock star who needed to eat more

invented a version of scrabble where the key rules are that you can’t play words in English and you can’t play the same language over two consecutive turns.

burst into tears more than once because they loved their partner too much

evangelically listens to Brian Blessed ASMR and can quote verbatim every Brian Blessed YouTube video

has a scar on their hand from overenthusiastic sandcastle building

once had dinner with Richard Dawkins. said it was exactly as bad as you’d expect.

said that when they died they wanted their hand bones removed and attached to their grave, wired together and posed so that they were eternally flipping everyone off. later clarified that they were not joking and that this was an actual request. also said they wanted their ashes put in random pepperpots in cafes around the country. did not clarify whether or not this was a joke.

spent three days on a wild bender of champagne, poptarts and debauchery during a heatwave. almost passed out from dehydration. still only stopped when the poptarts ran out and they had to get dressed and go get pizza.

taught themself French at age 7 because they got bored of English

when they had a cold during the Fringe, kept flushing their nose out with warm water and then leaving bottles of nose water sitting around the flat until their bandmates were ready to murder them

went through a whole Deadlands game playing as a dog (not a talking dog)

cut the tip of their thumb off while making scrambled eggs. finished making scrambled eggs. still does not have full sensitivity in their thumb after 5 years.

chased by an angry horse. survived. ultimate power.

#I will say that the line in TMA referencing the highlands experience is #'do you know what a pine marten is? it's a wee bear'#and I choke to death laughing every time I listen to that episode because WHY JONNY #WHY WOULD YOU PUT IN A REFERENCE TO A VERY WEIRD EXPERIENCE THAT SOMEBODY ELSE HAD THAT ONLY THEIR FRIENDS WILL GET #it fucking kills me #there are other things in TMA that I recognise are references to injokes or things that happened or performances Jonny's been in #but that one idk it just fucking creases me #partly because I was there when he was told the relevant story and we were all quite drunk and none of us could stop laughing like. for hou #every time we calmed down someone would say *bad scottish accent* EHTS A WEE BEAAARRRRRR and we'd all fucking die again #"PLEASE don't tag this lore it's not 'lore' it's Anecdotes About Human People Who Exist

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hldailyupdate · 3 years

Text

For British singer/songwriter Harry Styles, 2020 was a career-defining year, bolstered by the December 2019 release of his GRAMMY-nominated sophomore solo album, 'Fine Line'

Though many people might want to write off 2020 as a year that never existed, for others, it was a year of growth, change and even success. For Harry Styles, 2020 was a career-defining year, which is no easy feat when the entire world is shut down. The pandemic left him no choice but to put his world tour plans on pause and strategize a new way to not just promote his sophomore album, Fine Line, released in December 2019, but also keep fans' attention.

What followed was a bit of a phenomenon.

Styles, who has been a star since his One Direction days, became a bigger star with every passing day. His album went multi-platinum, he got his first Billboard Hot 100 No. 1 single with "Watermelon Sugar," he was named Variety's 2020 Hitmaker of the Year, he landed his first-ever GRAMMY nominations of his career (Best Pop Solo Performance for "Watermelon Sugar," Best Music Video for "Adore You" and Best Pop Vocal Album for Fine Line at the 2021 GRAMMY Awards show). And the list goes on.

While these accomplishments would add up to a banner year for any artist, what makes it so unique for the British singer is twofold. For one, he's been in the business for a decade already, gaining fame at just 17 as a member of the huge boy band One Direction. While in the group, which came together in 2010 as part of "The X-Factor," Styles and his bandmates Liam Payne, Niall Horan, Louis Tomlinson and Zayn Malik found global success, selling millions of records, performing in sold-out stadiums around the world and winning many awards.

However, despite how massive the band became, they didn't quite crossover to listeners of all ages—they had a hard time shaking the boy band label. While their music evolved into a more mature rock sound over the years, they never got to a place where they were wholly appreciated by the public in a way that their fans knew they deserved.

Once the band went on hiatus in 2015, Styles went to work creating his first solo album, Harry Styles. It was released in 2017 to much fanfare (it also debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard 200), but it wasn't until his second solo album that he really hit his stride. With Fine Line he found his musical voice and shared an album that not only resonated with his core fanbase but also brought him further into the mainstream.

From the first single released off the album ("Lights Up" in October 2019) all the way to the most recent video ("Treat People With Kindness" in January 2021), Fine Line has continued to grow. It was with this album that Styles became a household name, disconnected from his boy band roots in a way like never before. Gone are the days where people refer to him as "Harry Styles from One Direction." Now Styles stands alone, proud of where he came from but boldly moving forward on his own path.

The even more stunning part of Styles' year, though, and the second reason 2020 was so out of this world for him, he largely let his fanbase spread the good word about his art. Fans on social media hosted streaming parties for "Watermelon Sugar" to ensure it hit Billboard's No. 1 spot. They've created and sold their own merchandise to advertise his music. As only a dedicated stan army can do, they've made sure that every single thing he does goes viral. Even though Styles himself has a limited social media presence, he's still one of the most noteworthy internet personalities, simply because his fans have kept him there. In a world where social media reigns supreme, he lets his work speak for itself and trusts in his partnership with his fans to help him succeed.

The impact of Fine Line was substantial. Because of it, he is currently in the running for his first three GRAMMYs--Best Pop Vocal Album, Best Music Video for "Adore You" and Best Pop Solo Performance for "Watermelon Sugar." And the numbers also back up his work. Fine Line is RIAA certified double platinum, has over 4 billion worldwide streams and spawned six songs that cracked the Billboard Top 100 chart.

Before the album's release, to promote "Adore You," Styles and Columbia Records created a mysterious world called Eroda that trended before anyone even knew it was for a music video. "Watermelon Sugar" became one of the songs of the pandemic summer after the video dedicated to human touch—which has over 194 million views on YouTube—was released in May 2020.

Not one to ever let the album get stale, Styles continued to remind listeners of its existence throughout 2020, even though the world had shut down and in-person promo wasn't an option. Before that, though, Styles caused a buzz as he took double duty on "Saturday Night Live" in November 2019 as the host and musical guest, as well as performing in BBC Radio1's Live Lounge the following month. After a few shows in Los Angeles, London, and New York in late 2019 and early 2020, Styles hunkered down amid COVID and let his music videos do the talking. Aside from "Watermelon Sugar," he released a video for "Falling" in February and "Golden" in October. Fans may not have gotten to see Styles on the road in 2020, but he made sure to keep popping up on their screens, including a virtual appearance at iHeart Radio's Jingle Ball in December, one of his only in 2020.

But 2020 wasn't only a great year for Styles' music, he also graced multiple fashion magazine covers, continued his relationship with Gucci, and even landed a second major movie role, in Olivia Wilde's upcoming Don't Worry Darling. Not only was he Vogue's first man to pose on a cover alone, he did it wearing a dress. He's continued to quietly advocate for genderless fashion by wearing what makes him happy, whether it's fishnets for Beauty Papers or his everyday pearl necklace. Though many rock stars before him pushed similar gender-bending trends, he's become that person for his generation.

Styles even influenced countless people in lockdown to take up knitting, simply to recreate the J.W. Anderson rainbow patchwork cardigan he wore during a rehearsal for the "Today" show in February. After a few fans fumbled through knitting a copycat, the fashion house published a pattern that spread like wildfire. Suddenly TikTok was flooded with people knitting "The Sweater," and fans all over the world showed off their matching rainbow cardigans in their Instagram selfies from home.

As much as the phrase has been bandied about in recent months, it still holds true: It's Harry Styles' world and we're all just living in it. Despite all the setbacks and hardships, 2020 defined Styles as an artist—not just a musician, but a whole artist. It seems inevitable that Styles will only continue to grow his star power as he draws in more fans for this journey. For those devoted fans who have been there for him since he was just a teenager singing "What Makes You Beautiful," though, his meteoric rise in 2020 just made sense.

(11 March 2021)

#harry styles #harry update #article #grammys #march 2021

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itsadamcole · 3 years

Text

arranged - pt.2

fem!reader x drew mcintyre

reader and Drew go to America for reader’s surprises ...

word count: 5.5k+

warnings: prince!drew, just a lil bit angsty, definitely more fluff than part 1, smut :)

— and here’s part 2. enjoy —

part 1 || masterlist || request an imagine here

~ 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

You and Drew land in Orlando. It's late January, and a huge temperature difference. It feels more like summer in Florida than it does in Scotland, where it's super cold right now.

A smile hasn't left your lips since you took off, and you're excited to see Candice.

Speaking of Candice, she waits by baggage for you. When you see her, you drop Drew's hand and your things before running over to her. You hug her tight and she says, "Okay, okay. Relax, princess. It's nice to see you."

"It's nice to see you too," you say, looking at her. "I haven't seen you since the wedding."

Candice laughs and says, "It wasn't that long ago." She looks at Drew. "Your husband has gotten handsomer since I last saw him."

You giggle and say, "It hasn't been that long, Candice."

She smiles and says, "So, anyway. Come on. The trainers and doctors want to give you a full physical at Full Sail to make sure you're cleared to be in the match this week on NXT."

Smiling, you say, "Sounds great." You look back at Drew. "Ready?"

He nods and says, "Of course."

Candice drives you both to Full Sail University, where NXT is broadcasted from. She asks questions about what married life is like, how Scotland is, and how it's been over there since you married Drew.

It's a short drive to Full Sail from the airport so she doesn't get to many questions in.

During the physical, the doctors and trainers make sure your in tiptop shape to compete. You've lost some muscle mass since you haven't trained in months but it's not that big of a deal. They do the whole work up.

After you've been medically cleared to compete, Hall of Famer Triple H finds you. He says, "Y/N, welcome to Full Sail. We're very happy to have you here as part of our roster in NXT, even though it's for a short amount of time."

You smile and say, "Thank you, Mr. H."

He hands you a black leather folder and says, "Inside, you'll find a part time NXT contract that will have you as part of the NXT roster for six months. Your husband says that after six months, you will no longer be able to compete. As a part timer, you're slotted to be in three matches, one match every two months."

Your eyes widen and you look at Drew before you say, "I thought this was a one match deal."

"I pulled some strings," Drew says before winning at you.

Triple H says, "As of right now, your matches will be against Candice this Wednesday at NXT, a match against an opponent of your choice at Takeover: London in two months, and a match against an opponent of your choice at Takeover: Glasgow in four and a half months."

Your jaw almost hits the floor and you say, "Takeover matches? Like, actual pay-per-view matches."

Everyone in the room laughs and Triple H says, "We wanted to make your last few matches memorable ones. I've spoken with William Regal about this and he's on board. Are you?"

Quickly, you read over the contract and sign it. "I'm on board," you say.

"Welcome to NXT, Y/N," Triple H says, holding out his hand.

You shake his hand and smile. "Thank you for this opportunity," you say.

He smiles and walks off. You look at Drew and he has a huge smile on his face.

"I haven't seen ya so happy about something before," he says.

You smile back at your husband and you say, "I'm living my dream because of you, Drew. Thank you."

Drew says, "I just got us here. Yer talent is the reason yer living yer dream."

"You've never seen me in the ring before," you say, giggling.

Your husband says, "I get t'see ya in the ring on Wednesday."

You smile and shake you head, leaving to go to the hotel to get some sleep so you can train all day tomorrow before Wednesday.

***

Wednesday gets here too quickly. You've brought your old gear with you to wrestle in. It's definitely more revealing than you remember.

You stand in your little dressing room and look in the mirror at yourself.

The shorts got tighter and shorter, and the crop top now tightly hugs your chest. Your cleavage is very exposed and you hope to God that you don't have a wardrobe malfunction while in the ring.

Now that you're the princess of Scotland, you have a lot to be conscious about.

Someone knocks on your door as you're tying up your boots. "It's me," Candice says. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," you say.

The door opens and Candice walks in. She smiles when she sees you in your gear. "Damn, you looked good in the gear then and you look good now," she says. "Anyway, I was thinking. I want to cut a promo before our match tonight. Just a short one. I'll say how a princess shouldn't be in the ring with someone like me and we can go from there."

You nod and finish lacing up your boots. "Sounds good," you say. "I'm assuming that my signing has been a secret?"

Candice nods and says, "Yeah. Drew's being kept out of the crowd until our slot so it doesn't give it away too early that you're here."

Someone calls your name and Candice's name. It's time.

"I've never been so ready to get back in a ring," you say. "Ever since I left, it's been marriage and princess lessons. I'm ready to wrestle again."

Candice smiles as the two of you walk to the backstage area. "You better be," she says.

Several NXT superstars are in the backstage area. The Undisputed Era, Finn Balor, Io Shirai, Timothy Thatcher, Tommaso Ciampa, Rhea Ripley, Johnny Gargano, Indi Hartwell, and Shotzi Blackheart just to name a few.

You stretch out as you wait for your music to hit.

It's been too long since you felt this rush of adrenaline. Before every match and every promo for Ring of Honor, you'd feel a rush of adrenaline to get you pumped up. You last felt this in your last ROH match a few months ago. It's been too damn long.

Candice's music hits and she walks out. You listen to what she says carefully.

"Rumor has it we're in the presence of royalty tonight," Candice says. "Apparently some princess signed with us a few days ago? That's the rumor anyway. I don't think she even deserves to be in an NXT ring."

That's when you're handed a microphone before your music, I Like It Heavy by Halestorm, hits. Of course it's a clean version of the song because this is WWE but it's fine. You're making your entrance for the first time in months.

The crowd loses it as you walk toward the ring in your sparkly red and black gear. You step into the ring.

The music fades out and you're face to face with Candice. She smirks and asks, "Oh, did I hit a nerve, princess?"

You hold your microphone up and say, "I don't deserve to be in an NXT ring?" You scoff. "Please, Candice. I've fought to be here."

Candice says, "You're Scotland's princess. That's the only reason you're here."

These comments are hitting you hard, but you fight through.

"Listen here," you say. "I am a NWA Women's World Champion, a two-time NWA Women's World Tag Team Chanpion, and Impact Knockouts Champion. I deserve to be in this ring for my talent, not by my title."

Candice says, "Then let's go. You're dressed. I'm dressed. Let's get a referee out here."

The crowd cheers and you yell "bring it" into the microphone before throwing it down.

The match begins shortly after. You have Candice in a headlock and you're trying to bring her down onto her knees. She pushes you off of her into the ropes. You bounce off and hit her with a clothesline.

You say, "Oh, look. The princess is the only one still standing."

The crowd laughs and Candice hits the mat before getting up. You're locked in a grapple with her a few seconds later. After a bit of struggling, Candice knees you in the stomach. You cry out and clutch your stomach, falling to your knees. She hits you with a running knee to the jaw, and you sell it well. You fall into your back, knees bent with your feet beneath you.

Candice pulls at your hair to get you up, and the ref warns her of the hair. She says, "Get out of my ring."

You snarl, "Go to hell."

Then you elbow her hard. She backs off you, creating enough space for you to perform a spinning heel kick. She falls but you get her up into your shoulders into a fireman's carry.

You hit the Falcon Arrow on her and go in for the pin.

One. Two. Three. The bell rings and your music blares. The crowd goes insane. You spot Drew in the front row where he would mostly be off camera. He's looking at you in awe as he applauds. You smile as the ref holds your arm up, declaring you the official winner.

***

Days pass by since your match with Candice. It's all you talk about whenever you get the chance. Drew just smiles and listens as you tell him about the rush you felt being back in the ring.

You're driving to your hometown, a little suburb outside of Manhattan. It's been a quiet ride, and that's because Drew is asleep.

Timezones and jet lag have not been your friend during this trip, but it's easier for you to get used to the time change than it is for Drew.

You pull up to your childhood home and tap Drew's shoulder. "Hey, sleeping beauty," you say. "We're here."

He stirs and looks out the window. You smile and he says, "This is yer old house? It's so small."

"I didn't have much," you say. "My parents scrapped together what they could to pay for wrestling school when I was 14 until I was 17. I told myself then that I'd make it in wrestling and I'd pay them back for what they paid for me to go to wrestling school."

Drew looks at you and asks, "Can we go inside?"

You shake your head and say, "It was foreclosed. It belongs to the bank or something. It would be illegal to go in."

Your husband looks back at the house, which has fallen apart with age. It's a one story house. It has one bedroom, a tiny bathroom, and one room that holds the living room, dining room, and kitchen areas.

Drew says, "This while time ya were over here struggling, I was living it up as the prince of Scotland with my rich parents. I used to throw tantrums because they wouldn't get me the newest toy or take me on vacation with them, and your family couldn't afford either."

"We made it through," you say. "My parents live in a beautiful two story house in the nicer part of Manhattan. I paid them back right before I left for Scotland. Every story has a happy ending, Drew."

He smiles a bit and he asks, "Even ours?"

You smile and say, "Especially ours." You lean over the middle console and press a kiss to Drew's cheek. Your lips linger a little too long and he turns his head. You pull back a bit and meet his eyes.

That's when the butterflies flutter in your stomach and your heart races in your chest.

Slowly, both you and Drew lean into each other. Your eyes flicker to the lips you've only kissed twice, once at your wedding and once at a public event right after the wedding.

One of Drew's hands moves and rests on your cheek. You instinctively lean into his soft touch a bit.

Your lips are centimeters away from Drew's. Your noses touch as Drew's other hand moves to cup your other cheek.

"Tell me to stop if ya don't want this," Drew whispers.

You nod a bit and say, "I want this, Drew."

Then his lips brush against yours. A feather light touch. It makes you lean in more because you want more.

Drew guides your lips to his. Your eyes flutter closed as you kiss Drew. Your hands wrap around his wrists as he cups your face.

His facial hair tickles your chin and upper lip as the soft kiss continues.

It's like your first kiss all over again. Your first kiss was at your wedding in front of thousands of people. This one feels different. You never felt butterflies or your heart race when you kissed Drew at your wedding. You do now.

Drew pulls back and looks at you.

"How come ya never kissed me like that at our wedding?" he asks.

You say, "Because I didn't want it then. I wanted it now. I wanted the kiss."

He smiles and pecks your lips one more time before saying, "Show me yer favorite spot."

Giggling, you say, "I can't drive with you holding my face. Hold my hand if you wanna hold something."

Drew smiles and lets your face go. He takes your hand as you drive to your favorite spot.

Your favorite spot, or your safe spot, is a small park. You pull up, and get out.

The sun is setting, and you have a perfect view.

After taking Drew's hand, you walk over to a park bench. You sit down and Drew sits beside you. He wraps an arm around your shoulder as you both watch the sunset.

Drew says, "Ya don't have t'stay if ya don't want."

You look at him and ask, "What are you talking about?"

"In Scotland," he says. "Ya don't have t'stay. Being king isn't that important t'me if it means that ya don't get t'keep wrestling. I saw ya in the ring the other day, and it's all ya talk about. Ya love wrestling, and I don't wanna take that away from ya."

You turn so you're facing him as you say, "I'm happy in Scotland. Yeah, it was hard at first. I had to come to terms with possibly never wrestling again, and I did. Until you surprised me with this trip. I love that you did this for me, and for that, I'll help you become king and I'll be the best damn queen Scotland has ever seen." Drew smiles and you throw your legs over one of his legs.

You continue with, "Plus, I may or may not have fallen for you completely so I'm not going anywhere. Til death do us part, remember?"

There's almost a sparkle in Drew's eyes when you tell him that you might have fallen for him.

Your husband smiles and says, "I, uh, might've fallen for ya completely too."

You smile and lean into Drew. You kiss him slowly and softly. He kisses you back, pulling you closer to him.

The kiss is slow and full of passion. Your heart pounds in your chest as your lips move against Drew's.

Drew pulls back again and he says, "Let's find somewhere t'stay tonight. Do ya have a favorite hotel?"

You nod and say, "Yeah, it's in the city. Let's go."

The two of you get up and head to your favorite hotel.

***

The San Carlos Hotel. It's a cute little hotel, and not over the top fancy. You rent out a suite for the next few days, and they tell you that your stay is on the house because you're royalty. Sometimes being a royal has its perks.

The suite is a one bedroom suite. A full bathroom and walk in closet. Plus a living room area with a couch and a flat screen, and a kitchen.

Drew smiles when you unlock the door. You both walk in and you say, "Home sweet home while we tour New York."

He looks at you and say, "I'm glad ya didn't take the out when I offered it, Y/N. I didn't know ya were happy in Scotland. Honestly, I thought ya were miserable."

Giggling, you walk up to Drew and say, "Scotland is a beautiful country. I'm happy to be its princess, and eventually queen."

Your husband says, "Scotland's beauty is nothing compared to yers, Y/N."

Your cheeks heat up and say, "You are one unbelievably cheesy prince, you know that."

He laughs and says, "I take good pride in that. It's a talent."

Laughing, you begin to unpack. Drew disappears into the living room.

Once you've finished unpacking, you walk over to the window. You cross your arms over your chest and look out over the city that never sleeps.

Cars are still on the road and people are milling around on the sidewalks even though the sun has set.

You smile and keep looking out the window, until a pair of arms wraps around your shoulders. You don't have to look to know it's Drew. You lean back into him.

"I'll miss New York," you admit. "The city is always buzzing. It's the city that never sleeps, you know."

Drew presses a kiss to your temple and he says, "Just because we're gonna be king and queen doesn't mean we can't leave the country. We're not locked down in Scotland when we ascend the throne."

You sigh and say, "I know."

The two of you stand like that. You both look out over the city for several minutes.

Drew asks, "So, I did good?"

Nodding, you look up at Drew. "You did more than good," you say. "This has been the best trip of my life, and I'm glad you're here with me."

Your husband says, "I hope we can actually try at the relationship thing. I have a lot to learn still and-"

You lean up, pressing a soft kiss to Drew's lips to cut him off. He's caught off guard by the kiss but he kisses you back.

After a moment, you pull back and say, "We're gonna try at the relationship thing." You smile. "But I know that you know a decent amount about some parts of a relationship."

Drew says, "I know a lot less than ya think I know."

You turn in his arms and ask, "So if I asked you to, I don't know, take off my clothes, you wouldn't know how to do it?"

His face gets flustered as he stammers, "Well, I, uh, I know how to take off clothes, Y/N."

"I would hope so," you say, teasing him.

Drew smiles and says, "Listen, I don't know much about relationships but I know a lot about the physical parts."

You stare up at Drew and say, "Show me what you know."

"Y/N, we just talked about trying the relationship thing," he says, smiling. "I don't think we're ready for the next step."

A smile forms on your lips as you say, "We've already skipped a step or two. What's one more?"

Drew pushes some hair out of your face before he cups your face. He says, "I wanna do this the right way, Y/N."

You look up at Drew and you say, "There is no right way when we're in this situation."

He laughs softly and says, "Yer not wrong."

Leaning your head up, you say, "So show me what you got."

Drew smiles and leans down, bringing his lips to yours. The kiss is slow at first, full of passion. You wrap your arms around Drew's waist, holding him close to you.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, asking for access. You part your lips slightly. His tongue slips into your mouth. You let out a soft sigh into the kiss.

Your heart is racing in your chest at the thought of Drew taking off your clothes. You've seen him without a shirt on, but he's always seen you clothed.

While you're busy thinking, Drew's fingers have started working on the zipper of the jacket you're wearing. He pushes the jacket off of you and you pull away from the kiss.

Your eyes meet Drew's and he asks, "Ya really want this?"

Nodding, you say, "I want this." You untuck the shirt he's wearing from his pants.

Drew smiles and picks you up by your waist. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks toward the bed. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck. You take out the hair tie that's keeping his hair in a ponytail.

"I don't want your hair up when we're together," you admit. "I like it down."

Your husband lays you gently on your back on the bed. He looks down at you and says, "Anything for my princess."

You giggle, "So cheesy."

Drew leans down and kisses you. Your fingers slide up into his long locks. One of Drew's hands roams your body over your clothes while you start to unbutton the button up that he's wearing.

Several months ago, you and Drew wouldn't even touch each other. Not even hand-holding. Now, you're underneath him on a bed.

Things have definitely changed for the better over the last few weeks between you and Drew. It feels like euphoria when he kisses you or touches you. You can only imagine how it'll feel when his fingers find their way into your pants or under your shirt.

You're barely able to control yourself as Drew's lips move from yours to your neck. Your eyes flutter closed and you run your fingers through Drew's long locks. His button up now hangs open after you got it unbuttoned.

Drew kisses and nips at the skin on your neck as you push the open button-up off his body. You run your fingers gently up his now bare arms until your hands cup his face. You bring Drew's head up, bringing his face out of your neck. You're breathing a little heavy as you meet Drew's pretty blue eyes.

You lean your head up and press your lips to Drew's hard. One of Drew's hands runs down the side of your body, grazing the side of your breast. You almost shiver with anticipation as Drew's fingers reach the bottom of your t-shirt.

He pulls away from the kiss and looks down at you. You sit up a bit and lift your arms over your head. Drew pulls the t-shirt off of you and discards it somewhere in the room. You're left in just a plain, black bra and pants. You didn't think you'd be doing this or you would have worn a fancier undergarment.

"God," Drew says, eyes wondering over your half naked upper body. Your cheeks get hot as he looks at you underneath him.

He shifts his weight so he's kneeling between your legs. He pulls your hips toward him. You feel the bulge in Drew's pants against your clothed crotch and you gasp slightly. Your husband sits on his heels as he looks at you.

You stare at Drew, waiting anxiously for him to make a move. Your heart racing wildly in your chest.

Drew hooks his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, pulling them off your body slowly. They join your shirt on the hotel floor. He leans down and starts to lightly kiss your belly. You giggle and look down at him. His lips trail up your belly until he reaches the bra you're wearing. He undoes the front clasp and the bra falls open, exposing your breasts to Drew. Your breath hitches as he uses a finger and plays with one of your nipples. He kisses the other breast before sucking on that nipple.

You bite back a moan as you slightly arch your back off the mattress. The hand playing with your nipple moves down your body. Drew's fingers slip into the waistband of your panties and you sigh. You lick your bottom lip as his fingers inch closer to their target.

Your husband's eyes flicker up to your face and he watches for your reaction as two of his fingers run through your slick folds. Your eyes flutter closed and you smile, grasping onto the blankets on the bed.

His fingers tease your clit and you say in a whispered tone, "Don't tease." Drew teases your entrance and you let out a quiet moan.

"That was the prettiest things I've ever heard come from ya're mouth," Drew stares.

You get all flustered and say, "It's not nice to be a tease, Drew."

He presses a light kiss to your jaw and mumbles, "Tell me what ya want, princess."

Almost begging him, you say, "I want to feel your fingers inside me. Please."

Gently, Drew starts to pull off your panties. The fabric is thrown to the floor and you pull off the bra. You're completely naked in front of Drew, and you feel comfortable. You trust that Drew won't do anything to hurt you. He's the kind of man to make sure that you're okay with something before he does it.

Drew runs a finger through your soaked folds before he pushes that finger inside of you. You bite your lip to hold back your moans. Drew's hovering above your naked body. His lips are on your neck again, nipping at the skin and definitely leaving marks.

His finger moves in and out of you. You let your lip go and let out the moans you were holding in. Then Drew adds a second finger. You gasp and moan, "Drew."

"Making ya feel good with just my fingers?" Drew mumbles against your neck.

You nod frantically and say, "I love your finger."

He smirks and says, "I can promise ya that they love ya too."

The speed of his fingers quickens and your hips buck off the bed. You moan his name and a few profanities. A knot forms in your stomach.

You're intoxicated with how Drew is making you feel. You love the feeling of Drew's fingers inside of you. His touch makes you feel euphoric and waves of bliss overcome you with every flick of his wrist.

Your walls clench around Drew's fingers and you cry out, "Drew, I'm about to cum!"

The Scotsman's voice drops a tone and he asks, "Ya gonna cum from my fingers, princess? Do I make ya feel that good?"

Nodding, you desperately say, "I need to cum. Please."

"Go ahead, my love," he says.

Your legs begin to shake as you release all over Drew's fingers. More than you ever have for anyone before. Moans pass your lips as well as Drew's name mixed with profanities. Your breathing is labored as you come down from your high. Drew kisses you as you try to catch your breath.

Your lips move feverishly against his for a few moments before Drew gets back on his knees. You sit up with him between your legs and undo the button on his jeans. You look up at him as you push the dark blue fabric off his body. He's left in his boxer shorts as he sits back. You crawl onto his lap, straddling his huge bulge. You run your fingers down Drew's chest and he looks up at you.

"I have t'get something if we're gonna do this, princess," Drew says, pecking your lips. "Unless ya want to start producing heirs t'the throne right now."

You giggle and say, "Let's wait a year before we start doing that."

He smiles and snakes his way out from under you. You sit on the bed and watch as he grabs a little silver package out of the travel bag. He walks back over to you and you move to the edge of the bed.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pull them down. Drew watches you as his erect member pops out of the boxers. His big, and thick. You swallow a bit and look up at Drew.

He's smirking down at you before ripping the tiny package open and sliding the contents on himself. Drew pushes a piece of hair out of your face and says, "Be a good princess. Get on yer back and spread those beautiful legs for me."

You don't say anything, you just do as your told. You scooch yourself back on the bed and lay on your back. You spread your legs a bit as Drew crawls up to you, hovering over you between your legs. The tip of his member runs through your folds and you sigh.

"I've been missing out on a lot," you admit, looking up at Drew.

Your husband lightly kisses you as he says, "I have a lot t'offer."

Smiling against his lips, you say, "I can see that."

Drew props himself up on his arms, hands on either side of your head. You stare up at him before he asks, "Are ya sure ya want this?"

You nod and say, "I've never wanted anything more."

Then he pushes inside you. You gasp at the small amount of pain you feel before it goes away, turning to pleasure. He thrusts slowly into you, moving deeper every few movements. His length starts to fill you little by little. You're a moaning mess beneath Drew, nails raking up and down his back.

When he's fully inside you and you're adjusted, his hips speed up. He starts thrusting harder into you. Grunts leave his lips as moans leave yours. You wrap your legs around his waist so he has better access.

"Oh, fuck," you cry out. "Don't stop, Drew. Oh, faster. Please."

He listens to your wishes and he moves faster. He leans down and brushes his lips against yours. You lean your head up for the kiss and he pulls back slightly. You chase his lips and they barely touch his.

The tip of Drew's member finds your g-spot and you cry out. That's when he knows he's found the target, and he moves faster. His member slams into your g-spot over and over again. You scream out his name mixed with profanities several times as he fucks you into the mattress.

The same knot from earlier forms in your stomach as Drew builds you up to a second orgasm.

Drew's finally kissing you. Your lips move against his breathlessly and your nails dig into his sides. He twitches inside of you and you mumble, "I'm about to cum, baby."

"Me too," Drew says. "Together."

You nod. He moves a few more times before you both cum at the same time. You around him and him into the condom.

Drew kisses you messily as you both ride out your highs. Your hands are on his face as you messily make out with him.

He pulls out of you and pulls back from the kiss. You whine a bit as he ties off the condom, throwing it away. Drew helps you under the comforter before joining you. Drew spoons you from behind with one of his arms draped over you. You hold his hand as you press your back to his chest.

Both your breathing and Drew's breathing have returned to normal. He leaves soft kisses on your shoulder and a smile is on you lips.

"That was amazing," you say. "I really could've had that the entire time instead of fighting with you."

Drew lets out a breathy laugh and says, "I should've just talked to ya about everything sooner. We could'a done that a long time ago."

You giggle and say, "Now that we have done that, I don't know how long I can go before we do that again."

Your husband says, "Whenever ya want, princess. Hell, if ya wanted another go then I wouldn't say no."

Looking back at Drew, you say, "Calm down. You just made me cum twice within several minutes. I need some time."

Drew smiles and says, "Of course. Were ya seriously about that waiting a year before we start trying for a baby?"

"Of course I was," you say, turning and facing Drew. "I would love to have a baby with you, but I want to make sure that it's something we both want. I'm ten year younger than you, Drew. We have some time."

Your husband smiles wide and kisses you. "I am so in love with ya, princess," Drew coos against your lips.

"I'm so in love with you too, Drew," you respond.

Months ago, you hated the thought of marrying Drew just for him to become king. You never even wore your rings behind closed doors. Now, it's changed into something more. An actual relationship where you love Drew and he loves you.

That's all you hoped for when you said 'I do' to the prince of Scotland.

—

tags: @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

#drew mcintyre imagine #drew mcintyre x reader #drew x reader #drew mcintyre smut #drew mcintyre fluff #wrestling imagine #wrestling fluff #wrestling smut #wwe imagine #wwe fluff #wwe smut #nswf imagine #imagines #imagine #smut #fluff #fluff imagine #smut imagine

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kingstylesdaily · 3 years

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How Harry Styles Emerged From Teen Pop Sensation To First-Time GRAMMY Nominee

For British singer/songwriter Harry Styles, 2020 was a career-defining year, bolstered by the December 2019 release of his GRAMMY-nominated sophomore solo album, 'Fine Line'

HEDY PHILLIPS

What followed was a bit of a phenomenon.

via Grammy.com

#kingstylesdaily #Harry Styles #hs: news #hs: grammys 2021 #March 2021

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kim-ruzek · 3 years

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How to make a marriage work

Summary: If you had told when she first met Hank Voight that one day she’d be going to him for relationship advice, Kim would’ve strongly recommended you get your head checked out.

Set sometime in season three; Kim needs advice on how to be married, and goes to one of the only people in her life who's had a successful marriage.

Word Count: 2.5k

Read on AO3

Notes: This is a gift for Cíara (@fighterkimburgess ). They put me in my parental feels and i just have this need to Reward and gift them things. I've had this idea for a while and never planned on writing it bc I never could make it work, and it's self indulgent and I couldn't work out how it'd fit with season three Voight (bc he's not on the level, say, season seven Voight is) but my mind is inspired today and it just worked.

But yes. This is self indulgent and bc I was in my dad! Voight feels and Cíara just has a remarkable and incredible way of saying things that one) inspires me and two) makes me understand the nuances of this man.

Plus y'know. We've got burzek being cute in this and that promo dictated I needed to write cute burzek.

Enjoy!!!

Come on, Kimberly. Kim tells herself, her inner voice taking on a firm, no nonsense tone that reminds her strongly of Platt’s. You’ve faced down guns, you can do this.

Her mind rebels against that sentiment, and she wonders if she was actually given the choice—to do this, or to face down yet another gun—if she’d choose the gun, depending how much she’s bricking it right now.

It’s just Voight, she thinks, taking a few more deep breaths. Of course, it’s not just Voight. Physically, yes, it’s just the Sargent. But it’s not just Voight, it’s her boss, it’s the man who holds everyone to such high professional standards, it’s Voight after hours, it’s an unscheduled meeting.

And, the thing that’s playing on her mind so much, the thing that has made her keep hesitating, it’s the man who looked over her for Intelligence because of his perceived understanding of Adam and her.

There’s a lot of reasons that makes Kim justified about trying to go up to Voight’s office and instead having false starts, turning back around to flee to the locker room before he could see her. Even if she’s fearless in the face of danger, she still has every right to be unsure about this.

After all, he is her boss. And he might care about those he’s in charge of, especially his unit and Kim likes to think it’s also to those close to them. Definitely Platt, but also herself and Roman. But he dictates when things are personal, and that’s so far and few between. He’s a man who plays everything close to the chest and there’s so many reasons that tells Kim that this isn’t something she should consider, that he’s probably just going to give her a look and dismiss her.

And Kim definitely will be risking whatever chance she has left of ever being offered a spot in intelligence.

All this is valid, and if anyone else knew of her plans, they’d agree that she’d be justified to just scrap this whole idea. But every day of this job is a lesson, and Kim has learnt a lot since starting. And she’s learnt a lot since Voight came in as their new Sargent—especially when Adam was hired.

Kim was passed over because Voight thought she was sleeping with Adam. And that hurt, hurt more than Kim thinks she’d ever be able to express in words.

But through that, Kim learnt things about herself. That she’s determined, and this is her dream, and that she can still succeed and achieve even when she’s passed over. And that she should just stick to what she’s doing, to prove herself, to show that everything she does, especially in her personal life, doesn’t affect what kind of cop she is.

A lesson that came in handy when she was shot, and he actually offered her the spot. That she knew she wanted to earn it in a different way, not just because she was shot.

Kim also learned something else. That this job may her everything, and that intelligence may be her dream, but there are some things that’s worth being flexible over.

That Adam is worth being flexible for.

The day they got together, Kim had already been passed over. And by dating Adam, she was risking it happening again, but she had learnt that she just needs to keep what she’s doing, showing she can be an uncompromised cop, even while dating in house. And that Adam, she wanted Adam so much that she wasn’t going to deprive herself of something that could be so good just for an opportunity she may never get.

And then she proved herself, even when dating Adam, and Kim knows her choice was right, even if she turned the promotion down.

And it was after then, even though she knows just how much intelligence is her dream, that she knew that Adam—being with him—is her dream, too. And Kim has no control, not really, over her intelligence dream. All she can do is keep being a good cop, and hoping that it pays off. But she has control over her and Adam, about the dream she has for them, of making sure the ring on her finger actually means something.

That lesson, perhaps, was the most important one for her to learn. Jobs come and go, even something as amazing as intelligence. Kim wants to one day be something higher than a detective, so she may have to leave intelligence anyway, and there’s more units and good positions in the cpd to be in, even if intelligence is her dream.

But soulmates? That person who just gets you, that person you love with your whole heart? That’s one in a lifetime, and that’s who Adam is. Adam is her love and who knows what her future, job wise, holds, but Kim knows that Adam is her future.

Knows that she wants Adam to be her future, wants the life they are trying so hard to get, even if things are tough right now.

Kim can feel that future slip away. She can feel it in any slightly edged remark they exchange, can feel it in how they keep pushing off the wedding planning, can feel it in how sometimes she’s so reluctant to go home.

And she doesn’t want it to slip away. She wants Adam. She wants him to be hers for the rest of her life, for them to grow old together. She wants to be his bride, his wife, the mother of his kids. She wants all this, but she’s been feeling like she’s scrabbling against a flat wall, unable to climb over. Like she knows what’s on the other side, a happy life, but she doesn’t know how to get there.

And Kim wants to know. And Voight— Voight is the answer to that.

If you had told when she first met Hank Voight that one day she’d be going to him for relationship advice, Kim would’ve strongly recommended you get your head checked out. Her Sargent is a tough man, who so very rarely shows his softer side.

Kim might even doubt he has one, if it wasn’t for those two times in the hospital, when Zoey was critical and when she was shot.

But things are spiralling, spiralling in a way she does not want them to spiral, in her and Adam’s relationship and she doesn’t know how to stop it. Kim doesn’t think they need relationship counselling—they’re not that messy, not to her—but she needs advice.

It was a realisation that came to her one late night. Adam’s arm was wrapped around her waist, him snoring softly next to her and if she closed her eyes, she could almost forget the epic fight they had not five minutes before bed.

Although, Kim wonders, can it even be a fight, not to mention able to be described as epic, if it was done in hushed whispers? Olinsky and his daughter were in their living room, so they used muted tones, but the words were biting, almost more than any of their other fights ever were.

It was in this realisation that Kim also realised that she doesn’t exactly know anyone with a thriving and successful marriage. Anyone she went to school with who is married doesn’t have the same relationship and life dynamics as she does, and Kim’s socialisation tends to just be limited to those she works with or the other first responders.

And first responders have such tough jobs, and such because of the nature of it, relationships aren’t exactly the most successful thing about their lives.

The only person her age who Kim could think of who had a successful marriage is Natalie, but she’s just met the doctor and asking a grieving widow—no matter how long you’ve known them—the secrets to a successful marriage is just cruel.

Olinsky has been married a long time, even despite everything, him and Meredith are only separated. But the very act of them being separated perhaps disqualifies him from being someone to seek marriage advice from. Especially as, from what Kim has gathered, they seemed to have a flawed relationship anyway, despite being in love.

There’s always Herrmann, of course. But while Kim gets along with the man, the thought of asking him this felt too personal. And she wasn’t sure if he’d be much help. He has a very successful marriage, and his job is tough like hers, but the dynamics just didn’t feel right for who she wants advice from. Adam and her, they’re stubborn and closed off and they need a guide like that.

Platt has a successful relationship, but she’s already someone Kim goes to. A great help, even if Kim ends up getting more information than she wishes for, but she needs a second pair of eyes and a fresh perspective.

And finally, Antonio. Antonio has been a great help to her when it comes to the job, but he’s divorced and Kim’s not sure if he’d be the best person to go to.

Which just leaves Voight. And as far as Kim knows, Voight’s the only one in their circle who’s had a successful marriage.

Of course, Voight doesn’t like personal talk. And Kim rather gets the impression that only a small handful of people gets to see Voight talking about his wife, especially as he’s a widow. But she has to try.

Taking a deep breath, Kim heads out the locker room and towards the bullpen—towards Voight’s office. It’s after hours and everyone is home or on a stakeout, and Voight’s doing paperwork. Kim had texted Adam saying she’ll be late home, not telling him it’s because she’s going to his boss for relationship advice.

Kim hesitates before she knocks on his office door, and she nearly runs away-- again—but then Voight looks up at that moment, their eyes locking.

Well, she thinks, here goes nothing.

Kim raps lightly on the door, Voight still watching her, curiously, as she does so. He waves her in before she even finished her tap and she opens the door cautiously, offering him a half smile.

“Burgess.” He gives her a nod. “Shouldn’t you be home by now?”

“Yeah. I just—I wanted to ask you something, if that’s alright? If you’re busy I can go—” Kim tells him. There’s half a second pause, but then Voight’s waving at the seat in front of his desk, telling her to sit down. She does.

“If it’s about intelligence, I don’t have room.” Voight says before she can start and Kim’s certain that she turns red, cringing at the thought that he might think of her that desperate.

“No, it’s nothing about that. It’s well, uh,” She really didn’t think this through, and she wishes she thought more about how to ask him. Voight just raises his eyebrows, leaning back slightly, waiting for her to finish.

“Well, you were married, right? And you know that Adam and I...well you know. And I just want to know—well, how? How did you do it? We see so much and we all have our own issues on top of that and I just. I don’t know how to make a marriage work.” Saying the words out loud makes it hit Kim, makes the reality so much more real, and her heart twists. Twists that she can’t believe in them, that she needs help to do something she should already know how to do. Twists at how much just admitting this has lifted a weight of her shoulders, showing just how bad she is at this.

Surprise is written all over Voight’s face; he had clearly not expected this to be what she was going to say. It feels like eternity, Voight just looking at her, before he speaks.

“Camille—my wife—is to thank for that.” He begins, leaning forward, looking serious but with a softness to his expression. “She was... An angel. Patient but firm, and she didn’t take any shit and no work excuses.”

There’s another pause, and Kim waits patiently, just glad that he didn’t just dismiss her, or tell her that she had no business even asking.

“I was wrong, to judge you and Ruzek. You’re both professionals and I can see you’re well suited to each other. My Camille was a romantic, and I think she would’ve been quite taken with the pair of you—and please, take that as a compliment. I don’t think she would’ve liked Erin with Halstead. Me, I’m not so much of one, just do your work and I’m good. So I won’t be much help,” Kim gets it, understands, but she can’t help but feel deflated at that.

“But,” Voight continues before she can stand up to go. “You’re good police, Burgess. Both you and Ruzek are. I’ll tell you some things my Camille taught me, and I hope that it helps.”

It doesn’t take long for Voight to say all he had to say, him saying everything very manner of fact in that way of his, but Kim appreciates the gesture for what it is. That this is Voight showing his belief in her—in Adam, too—and that means just as much as Voight sharing this with her.

Kim thinks that Camille must’ve been a wonderful woman, thinking about how Voight’s lips turned up slightly, his eyes lighting up that little bit more, as he repeated what his wife had taught him to her. And a wise woman, she thinks, as his words replays in her mind as she heads home, feeling more certain and confident in her relationship, in the future of her relationship, than she ever has been.

“Hey,” Kim immediately greets Adam with warmth in her voice when she gets home, wrapping her arms around him, cuddling into his body. She doesn’t miss the lookout surprise on his face, however, or how it quickly fades, him wrapping his arms around her tight and sighing contently.

“Hey, darlin’. Where have you been?” He asks, kissing the top of her head.

“Just had to finish some stuff up at work.” Kim answers, talking into him as she still cuddles to him.

“Hm? Anything important?”

“Nothing that’s more important than being with you,” Kim answers truthfully, Voight’s words ringing around her head. She then tilts her head up, still in his arms, so she could look at him. “I was thinking. About us getting our own place? Since we can’t decide right now, I’m just going to move in with you. Living together is more important to me then where we’re living.”

“Darlin’ no, I want to give you what you want. We’ll find a place,” Adam shakes his head and Kim steals a quick kiss before continuing.

“I know we will. I’m not saying to stop looking, just. I want to actually live in one place, so until we do, I’m ending my lease and moving in here, properly.” Kim explains.

“Well, I have no complaints about that,” Adam grins, kissing her. “What made you decide this?”

“Just got reminded about what’s really important. And that’s us. Not where we live, or when we get married or anything. Just me and you and our love.” Kim answers, smiling up at him, her smile only grinning as she sees the affect her words have on him.

“I love you, darlin’,”

“I love you, too. Now, to what’s actually important right now—you, lifting me up and taking me to bed, right this second. I need you to fuck me, future husband.” Kim says, watching as Adam’s eyes darken, him gripping her tighter.

“Your wish is my command, future Mrs Ruzek,”

#burzek #kim burgess #hank voight #adam ruzek #kim burgess x adam ruzek #chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction #ree writes #ree's.writing

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