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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year

Note

Please write me a Billy W story - no particular premise, but I would like heart wrenching angst and disgusting smut. Something that will make me feel like I want to bite through my own forearm like I know only you can.

@ewanmitchellcrumbs <3 xoxo

You got it, baby~ Tried the heart-wrenching angst but didn't want to kill my precious boy, hope you like!

Lost Without You

Warnings: past trauma, swearing, angst, mentions of breakup, smut (p in v, oral m receiving, tiddy succin) | Word Count: 6k~

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Billy W Taglist

Billy hadn’t been in a car since Cranstead Fields.

Couldn’t and wouldn’t.

In the summer, with the incessant heat and dry air, it was totally fine. He would walk for hours and hours, mostly people watching and mulling over the events of that hot July where he had nearly fallen victim to his own overly trusting nature. Or perhaps he was naïve. It was difficult to tell the difference these days.

London flocked with tourists in the Summer, with the school holidays in full swing not long after. He'd happily disappear into the crowds, not wanting to be seen, and only observe. He'd watch families enjoy their time off in the blazing sun, even at Cranstead Fields, sometimes he'd walk past and see young lads playing footie right where his car had been. The grass now free of the tinged black tips from the fire, had turned a pale yellowish green with the harsh heat.

He thought it was wrong that he kept coming back. And he didn't know why he did.

People had fucking picnics there, absentmindedly sucking on ice lollies to keep cool, laughing and enjoying life.

Right where his had nearly ended.

He felt helpless. But he hated that he even felt that.

He remembered panicking so much in that driver's seat, so much so he'd nearly made himself sick. Shouting desperately for his sister to help him. Remembered her face through the window as she'd winced at what she'd seen inside the glovebox.

He barely remembered the extraction.

The in-between was blurry and he'd been sobbing so hard that only one thing could've brought him to his feet now that he was kneeling on the grass behind his car.

He'd nearly laughed as she pushed a policeman out the way, ignoring the orders for her to stay away. After all, there was still a live bomb inside the car. But she'd paid it no mind and had been kept away long enough. She ran across the cordon, her skin beneath the sundress she was wearing flushed with heat, exhaustion and outright terror. Her bare knees hit the grass with a thud, they'd be stained later, as she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a helpless hug.

If he wasn't so upset, he'd have worried about how covered in nervous sweat he was, how unbearably terrible he must have looked with his tear-streaked face. He'd never cried so much in front of her before. Even now as he snakes his arms around her waist, pulling her close, he'd buried his face in her neck so she wouldn't see. He could feel her breathing heavily, her heart beating fast, and how much she was trying not to cry at finally feeling him in her arms.

She settled for running her hands through his hair, damp from the heat and sweat, whispering his name as if to bring him crashing back into the reality where they were both here. He was safe.

She always made him feel safe. Wanted. It was a feeling Billy didn't know he needed before she came along.

But as usual.

He'd fucked it up.

After Cranstead, she did everything. All the cooking, cleaning, making sure he was taken to the police station to submit his statement. Sometimes it felt like she was more his secretary than a girlfriend.

At first, he appreciated her company, her willingness to commit herself to his wellbeing. And it wasn't like she wasn't selfless before, she'd always been good to him, but she'd really turned to the dial up to 10.

Some weeks in, it began to have the opposite effect. He felt like shit.

It felt like he was a kid again. And while, deep down, he wanted her help, he couldn't help but feel like she was pitying him. And he didn't need any more fucking pity. That's all anyone does. The further away the Cranstead Fields incident got, the more his parents returned to their previous conversations. Jobs. Commitments. When he and she would move in together. What he was going to do with his life.

As if it was just as simple as just forgetting it. As if the experience hadn't torn him apart.

She began to notice something was off a few weeks after the incident. He was recluse, giving one-word answers annoyed, spending most of his time smoking out the balcony doors of his flat instead of eating.

He couldn't bear to look at her. Didn't want to see that sinking look on her face. To come to the realisation that their relationship was failing and entering that murky, horrid form, where you know you should end it, but neither party wants to say it.

He thought, she had realised sooner than she wanted to admit. She loved him and wanted to be there for him, like any good girlfriend would be. She stood, watching him have his cigarette with his back to her, her overnight bag strung over her shoulder, wondering what she should say in response to what he'd just said.

"I don't need your help and I don't need you"

She opened her mouth a few times, willing something to come out. But she was too hurt to reply. She knew what that really meant.

She thought about writing a note. But instead, holding the hot tears back, she threw her bag in her car and sat in the driver's seat for a moment before gathering the strength to leave. Billy watched her car, a tiny little Volkswagen, pull away. And never come back.

With her, the families and tourists also left London, making way for the dull, wet humidity that Autumn came with. Even though they never moved in together, he felt the loss of her presence in his flat. Every time he came home, it slapped him in the face and if he felt shit before, when she was here, he felt even worse now for having broken up with her the way he did.

He hadn't even had the courage to really say it out loud. Nor to face her.

Billy did what he usually did, and accepted the feeling with open arms, dragging himself further down into a spiralling era of depression. Therapy did fuck all these days, he thought. Just paying someone else to take pity on you, which is the last thing he needed.

The flat slowly became a tip without him really even realising, packets of empty cigarettes piled up and all he did was go out every now and then for food and pop by the jobcentre. Not like there was much out there at the moment. Job seekers allowance would have to do for now.

Today was no different. With Autumn came shorter days and he'd barely realised, stuck in the jobcentre that it had become dark and mercilessly rainy. He pulled his hoodie over his head, stuck his hands in his pockets and went out into the pelting showers. It soaked through his clothes immediately, not dressed for such weather. Hair damp and sticking to his head and his jeans clinging uncomfortably to his legs with every step.

Pulling out his vibrating phone, he declined the call from Lana and shoved it back in his pocket. She'd been on his case like no other. Asking where his girlfriend was and how he'd let himself get like this. She was always the one to call him out, he hated it on one hand, but on the other it was nice to have it handed to him plainly sometimes.

Not today though, he thought.

The weather was unrelenting, rain pelted down so quick he could scarcely raise his head without it getting in his eyes.

He stepped off the curb to cross the road, without looking. A pair of headlights screeched to a halt.

"Jesus!" He pulled back onto the pavement again, face illuminated by the bright lights as he squinted.

He'd only realised what was going on when the driver's side opened. Her Volkswagen still had the lights on and the windscreen wipers were still quickly whirring.

She stood out the car slightly, her otherwise dry hair now gathering drops of rain, her jeans now a darkened blue the longer she stood there.

He felt his neck get hot, seeing her now after so long.

"Billy" were the only words that came from her lips,

"Fucks sake…" he turned a bit to walk away, not looking back even when he heard the car door slam shut.

"Billy!" She called after him, rain slapping on the concrete as she jogged up to him and pulled on his arm, "Billy, stop"

He pulled his arm away, looking down at her, "what!"

"I'm not letting you walk home in this. Get in" she said, voice elevated over the sound of the rain, which was running all over her face, down her neck, soaking her clothes right through.

"I didn't ask for your help"

"Would you stop being so fucking stubborn for one second?" She countered, clearly annoyed. They stared one another down for a moment, ignoring the ways their stomachs fluttered to see each other again.

"Come on, get in" she said, softer this time. Both of them now completely sodden.

He watched her get back in the car, torn at whether he should or not. He was still a good fifteen minute walk from his flat and already wet through, his shoes as well.

A short five minute drive in the car with his ex was a tough choice.

He opened the passenger door, eyeing the seat for a moment. He leaned forward, and opened the glovebox to find it empty (apart from her logbook and various other scraps), his heart going a million miles an hour. Eyes darted about the footwell, desperate to see if it was safe or not.

"It's alright, Billy…" she said softly from the driver's seat. In the low light of the car, he'd almost forgotten how pretty she was.

To both of them, it was clear that there was still love there. But neither wanted to be the first to say it. Or even acknowledge its existence.

He swallowed nervously and slumped into the passenger seat, suddenly feeling bad at how wet the seats must be. But it didn't seem like she minded. She just put the car in gear and drove the familiar five minutes to his flat in relative silence, apart from the quiet hum of the radio.

Of course the first time he's in a car in months, it's with her.

She pulled up to the curb, keeping the car running, as if she'd expected him to open the door and just run out, without saying anything. But Billy surprised himself, sat firmly in the passenger seat, he didn't move.

He didn't know what was happening to him. But for some reason, now that he had her back within reach, he didn't want to let her go.

He felt like a dick. For treating her as he did back then, and even tonight, when she'd offered him a lift, not expecting to even come in for a cuppa, he'd been cold and reclusive.

She turned off the ignition, looking over at him as he stared distantly into his lap, "You alright?" She asked carefully.

He wished he hadn't caved and looked at her, but he did. And his mouth went completely dry when he met her gaze. She made him feel so safe. So safe. Even now, when there was no real danger or chance of it, her mere presence seemed to calm that quick pounding of his heart.

"Do uh…you wanna come in?"

It came out more desperate than he'd intended. But he didn't regret saying it.

One of her hands noticeably gripped the steering wheel tighter, and he could see the internal battle she was fighting. Deciding whether or not it was a good idea.

She cleared her throat, unbuckling her seatbelt, "Sure, yeah…"

Billy winced remembering how messy the flat was when he'd left, and wondered what she'd think. He knew she was never the type to judge, but it embarrassed him all the same.

He felt his heart pitter patter in his chest at seeing her in his flat again, where she used to spend so much of her time. Where they'd nuzzle close on his tiny sofa, watching old 90s movies. Where she'd make him breakfast every Sunday morning, without fail. Where she'd come home after a bad day, seeking nothing but the comfort of being wrapped up in bed with him, stroking her hair.

"Tea? Coffee?" He asked, slipping into the kitchen. She followed, her hands wrapped around herself from the chill of being damp.

"Tea…thanks"

The loud, unrelenting hiss of the kettle filled the silence for a bit. Billy was trying to figure out what to say, keeping his hands busy fiddling with the teaspoon. He hated this. Hated that now they had to pretend to be strangers. As if they hadn’t spent the last few years devoted to each other. Spent night after night in his bedroom, basking in the fucked-out glow of the evening watching whatever was on late night telly ‘til either of them fell asleep.

Milk. No Sugar.

She suppressed the smile that he remembered how she liked it.

She nods her head whispering a thanks as he hands it to her, palm over the top of the steaming mug. It must hurt, she thinks. But he gives it to her this way so that she can put her fingers through the handle and not scald herself. At this small, tiny act of kindness on Billy’s part, she can’t help it, she does smile. A sad one. But a smile nonetheless.

His hallway that leads to the living room and bedroom is a bit cluttered, with his several pairs of Adidas shoes piled near the entrance, where he’d toed them off and never bothered to put them away. Billy brushes behind her to carry his own cuppa to the living room, the warmth in her tummy doesn’t go amiss either. He’s a lot taller than she is, one of the things she always shamelessly loved about him.

On the corkboard are several receipts, important looking bills as well as some letters from the NHS, easily spotted with the blue header.

“Still going to therapy then?” she asked, voice half-raised to reach him in the living room.

The therapy I organised, she thinks.

“Sometimes, yeah” he answers quietly.

The living room is a reflection of Billy. Messy, not put-together, various items strewn about the room like empty cans of beer and old letters he’d not bothered to throw away. It’s not necessarily a disgusting mess like old plates of food, more just items, but worry still gnaws inside her at how he is currently living.

She looks out the balcony doors, mostly to avoid looking right at him sat on the sofa, bouncing his leg anxiously and at the obvious way he is also trying not to be caught looking at her.

"How's your parents"

She looked at him only briefly, "Alright. Dad's retired now. Moved to Australia last month. I'm paying them rent til the mortgage runs out"

Billy's eyebrows raised in surprise. The thought of her in that house by herself was a sobering one and he thought she must be lonely there all alone.

She'd always come to his flat, for a sense of privacy and independence, but also to do the things they couldn't when she was in their house.

Those lazy weekend mornings, warm beneath the sheets with their bodies pressed together. Sleepily brushing the sheets from her bare skin to touch it, tracing all her feminine lines and curves. Her breath against his neck, hurried and needy. Fucking her into the mattress until the early afternoo-

"You're being quiet" she said, almost so quiet he didn't hear. Billy steeled his expression, to try and make it obvious he wasn't thinking about all the times he'd had her in that very bed. Like he didn't know all her sweet spots, the ones that made her breathe his name in a way that couldn't possibly be replicated. In a way that made his stomach lurch into his chest in flutters.

"I don't know what you want me to say" she was holding the mug in both hands, staring out the balcony windows, looking at her car outside, being hammered with rain.

Billy poked his cheek with his tongue, hands still clasped on his lap, thinking.

"Think it's me who owes you an explanation" he replied, voice low. Like he was a child in trouble. What he'd said made her look over at him, her face and hair still damp.

"I don't know" she put the mug down, turning to him, as if she didn't trust herself to hold it, "is it?"

He forced himself to look at her, hating the way she was trying to mask how troubled she was.

“Look, I know you’re upset-”

She scoffs, pulling her tears back, crossing her arms, “Understatement of the year”

“I don’t want a fucking fight right now”

“Neither do I. But I have a feeling your explanation will make one” she kept shifting her weight from foot to foot, nervous.

Billy sighed, “I just-I didn’t feel like myself. Realised you were too good for me, and that someday you’d realise it too” he explains quietly, hands clasped together, “Thought why not speed up the process”

“And you think you know what I want, do you?” she counters, her fingers digging slightly into her palm, trying to ignore the way her chest is getting tight.

“I just want you to be happy. Sometimes you can’t get that with someone dragging you down like I was doing”

She laughs, a short puff of air off her chest, hardly able to believe what’s coming out his mouth.

“I didn’t do all that I did for my fucking health, Billy. I did it because I loved you. And not once did I ever make you feel bad for it, for giving you space” she argues, catching her breath a moment, “I just-”

“It’s not about that” Billy says sharply,

“Isn’t it? You said you didn’t need my help, remember? Or is that just a Billy way of saying you don’t love me anymore?”

“I do love you” his expression could have fooled her. He looks exasperated and angry, frustrated.

“You have a funny way of showing it” she snaps, “I was just trying to help you”

She steps back a little when Billy stands up, his height shocking her for a moment as she has to crane her neck to see his face. His fists are clenched hard beside him, body quite literally shaking with the anger he’s trying so desperately to keep in.

"You were suffocating me!”

She scoffs, “Oh I’m sorry, I’ll refer to the handbook next time my boyfriend is trapped in a car with a bomb in the glovebox, shall I?”

If he hadn't been so upset, he'd have laughed. She was always funny. Unintentionally as well. Yet another thing he loved about her.

He must have shown a little bit of it on his face, because she shook her head, “Oh I’m funny now, am I?”

It didn’t shake the small smile from his face. Billy only swallowed over the lump in his throat, feeling uncomfortably hot against the still damp hoodie that was sticking to his chest. His eyes softened instantly and he couldn’t bear to look at her as he thought about what he might say.

“It just made me realise…I mean come on-I haven’t got a job, a future, my brain’s fucked…” he confessed quietly, “...I didn’t have anything but you and I can’t help but feel I drag you down-”

“Billy…”

“No-look at you, you’ve…got your life sorted out, a home…you deserve someone on your level, someone…that might not be me”

His heart lurches right into his throat, blue eyes brimmed with tears, when she steps forward to take his hands, almost outright sobbing at the feeling of her skin against his again. Her thumbs drawing soft and gentle circles on them.

“Don’t think like that, please..” she practically begged in such a soft, desperate tone, “I could never ever imagine my life without you and when I had to-I just couldn’t…love you too much to do that”

Billy feels his heart hurting. For months it had been so rarely used. And now to feel it so full of love just in the last hour he’d seen her, the stretch to accommodate it was painful. But the nice kind.

“I nearly lost you” she chokes out, “And I hated that I couldn’t do a single thing about it…”

He feels his mouth go dry. Thinking back, after the incident, she never did cry about anything. Rather, she pretended to be the rock, emotional walls built high, so that Billy could allow himself to let go.

He was so absorbed, perhaps rightly so, in his own situation. How he'd felt. That he hadn't stopped to think how broken she'd been by what happened, and all he could think about was that desperate hug she'd given him that day. How tightly she held him, her hands touching every piece of him she could to check it wasn’t some cruel dream.

She was hurting just as much as he was.

"I'm so fucking sorry, I-" he paused halfway, choking up and unable to form the rest of it once he saw her teary eyes.

He could've sobbed when she put her hand so gently to his face, her small thumbs wiping away the wetness on his cheeks. She gave a small watery laugh, her smile breaking through the sheer exhaustion of her heartbreak in her eyes.

"You're really fucking thick sometimes, you know that" she laughed softly.

And he couldn't help it, he let out somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Finally allowing himself to run his fingers through her hair, some strands drying and some still stuck together, forming waves in their wake. Another thing he loved about her.

"It's a Washington trait" he replied, his voice quiet and desperate. Both of them trying hard not to lose it again and cry.

"I know, '' she said with a genuine smile, her eyes lighting up in front of him again from the glow of a street lamp outside.

It wasn’t clear who moved first, but neither of them cared enough to think. If her hands on his face was a small slice of heaven, having her lips against him again was paradise. She just fit against him so perfectly as he wrapped his arms around her waist, desperate for the contact he had been denied in her absence. His hand dipping slightly beneath the hem of her shirt, feeling her tacky rain-soaked skin, almost groaning right against her mouth as he broke to take a breath. The hand that was at his face tugged him closer, deepening an ever-desperate kiss, like they had both been freed to desire each other.

His lips trailed from hers to her jaw, to her neck, inhaling her familiar scent, sighing at the perfume she would always wear. That hadn’t changed either. He left open-mouthed kisses against the tender skin there, trailing down the slope of her neck to her collarbones, hot and quick pants of his breath coming in huffs against it.

Her hand tightened on his shirt, “Billy…”

She’d hate it if she could see the boyish smirk on his face. At him knowing how much she wanted him, needed him. How hot her body got when they were near each other and how that familiar pool of arousal settled between her legs at the idea of this intimacy.

He pulls her to him by her waist, tugging her to straddle his lap as he lands on his sofa, resisting the urge to rut against her as he feels her clothed core rub against him. She can feel how hard he is, how hard he has been since the second they'd touched lips. Their kisses are having less effect, only delaying the inevitable wanton need they have for each other. And yet he chases her warm, soft lips and goes back for more which each break of breath.

The second she goes to pull off her top, throwing it somewhere across the room, his hands are on her, unclasping her bra to join it and his lips and tongue running over the newly exposed flesh. It smells like a mix of her perfume, her natural scent and the earthy smell that the rain leaves behind.

He savours every breath, every soft moan that tumbles out her mouth when he mouths one of her perk, rosy nipples, taking one and running his tongue all over it. His hand joining the other to give it attention. He could die a happy man buried between her tits like this, feeling the pleasant thrum of her heart beneath her ribs.

When her hand slips beneath the waistband of his jeans, wrapping around his cock, he groans against her chest, sending vibrations through her torso. She smiles a bit, with flushed cheeks, that he's already hard.

"Miss me?"

He'd missed her playfulness. But the way she's tugging at his length, squeezing ever so slightly harder when she gets to the tip, smearing precum over the head of it as it weeps with arousal. It gives her attitude a run for its money.

His half lidded gaze looks up at her, her hair framing her face no nicely in the dim light of the room. Rosy lips parted in anticipation of his reaction to her touch, glazed and kiss-bruised from before.

"Fuck…" he breathes, tipping his head back slightly.

With his eyes shut she dips her head to his neck, sucking and biting softly on his pulse point, speeding up the motions of her hand only slightly. But not enough. She skims over his clothed chest, letting her legs fall between his to the floor, her lips kissing just below his navel over the smattering of sandy blonde hair.

Billy looks down with a sort of admiration, watching the way she tugs his jeans over his hips, taking his boxers with it. Her mouth covers every bit of skin that's shown, taking his hot and aching length in one hand to give him some languid pumps before she dips her tongue against the base.

It's the teasing that makes Billy breathe faster. But nothing prepares him for the way her mouth sinks over his cock in one smoothe warm motion. After having been together for so long, she knew how to take him well and so she takes as much as she is able into her mouth, relaxing her jaw and using the other hand to pump whatever else she can't fit.

He pulls his hoodie over his head and she can see the way his muscles on his stomach flex, trying to hold back as much as he can. His fingers thread through her hair at the side of her face to the back, not pulling her on him, just holding her as she bobs her head against him, her tongue running against the vein on the underside, a motion that makes his fists tighten against her scalp. Every now and then when her eyes look up at him, his breath is stolen from his lungs and feels as if he might cum right there and then.

She hums around him appreciatively, enjoying the heady, intoxicating taste of him after so long. Not wanting to cum too soon, Billy gently pulls her off him, his cock shining with her spit and still standing hard against his stomach.

"You're so fucking good…" he whispers as his thumb drags over her bottom lip, tugging her to his own in a deep and wanton kiss. She pulls her jeans down with her underwear before sitting astride his narrow waist again, dragging her wetness over his cock as she sways her hips over him. Being naked in front of each other like this again is just so right, so basic and human, it's like nothing ever happened.

He smirks in the kiss at how ready she already is.

"Miss me?..."

Her face blushes with embarrassment and she playfully swats his shoulder, "shut up"

He reaches between them, running the head of his cock through her slick folds. It'd be so easy to just slide inside, to be enveloped by her warmth and feel the familiar ridges of her core, squeeze him just as tightly as they always had.

"Billy please…" she sobs as he teases her, moving away when she tries to sink down on him, "please just fuck me..."

He didn't need to be told twice.

He squeezed the flesh of her ass hard when he sank inside, leaving red marks against her skin as she stretched to accommodate his size. Her lips parted, eyes softly shut as a gasp escaped her mouth, matching his.

Their breaths mingled with each other as she took him fully, the head of his cock kissing that rough spot inside, easier in this position.

"You were fucking made for me…" he breathed against her lips, using her hips to move her on hip. She mewled out in pleasure, tears pricking the corners of her eyes at feeling him so deep inside her.

He moved her on top of him, back and forth, over and over again, fucking her using his own hold on her waist, meeting her halfway with his own pressing of his hips, watching the way her tits bounced with ever harsh thrust. Her sounds, every soft moan of his name, were music, only urging him on.

“God…Billy…” running her fingers through his hair, she held him close, lifting her hips to aid their chaotic fucking. Trying and failing to hold back the intensity of her moans as her first climax fills her limbs with warmth, thighs trembling around him and a series of expletives as he shoves himself harder into her through it. It takes the wind out of her for a moment while she gathers her breath, the lewd sound of her slick against the base of his cock the only sound in the room.

Only he could make her feel like this. Lose control like this. It didn't happen overnight either. At first he'd been apprehensive to show how much he wanted sex. But when she teased it out of him, it couldn't be contained any longer.

"Taking me so well-shit" he moaned out, her breasts against his face.

He could feel himself getting close.

She squeaked in surprise when her back met the sofa, looking up at Billy over her as his large palm pulled her legs apart again. He looked so good. Naked, his cock hard and covered in her arousal, lithe form and his face, rivalling that of a statue carved out of stone. Sharp jaw and nose, his soft blue eyes, sandy blonde hair now tousled from their intense lovemaking.

How could she not love him.

He was perfect.

He unapologetically gave that boyish Billy smile as he looked down at her, her chest speckled with heat from the passion of it all. Her tits moving with her breathing and her cheeks as she smiled lazily up at him, tinged with the prettiest pink he'd ever seen.

Billy remembered the last holiday they went on together, in the late spring. They'd driven to Cornwall with a hired minivan. And before arriving into Port Isaac, they'd stopped on a country road in the late afternoon when the sun touched the sea. He'd made love to her in the driver's seat and admired the way the orange sunset kissed the colour of her hair. She looked gorgeous then, face flushed and legs astride him.

How she looks at him now reminds him of that afternoon.

"What?" She asked, when he just sat and admired her.

He just shook his head, "You're just beautiful…"

He captured her lips with his own, leaning over and slowly teasing himself back inside her, sliding through with the aid of her new rush of arousal from her orgasm. Slowly like this, she feels every ridge, every vein and it does nothing to stem the desire to have him do whatever he wants. As long as it's with her.

With the soft thrust of his hips against her, pulling her legs around his waist, his hand runs up her front, between her breasts to her neck, gently holding her while he looks down to see how his cock just effortlessly disappears inside her over and over. His hips meetings hers slower than before but with just as much power, as if trying to imprint the shape of him inside her so they’d never forget how each other felt.

Billy bites at the skin between her neck and shoulder, hoping the marks take there, before pulling her leg up in his palm and pushing it higher so that he can raise himself and fuck down into her.

"Billy…don't stop…" she breathes as her eyes meet his. He can tell the new position reaches somewhere so incredibly deep that she clutches his shoulders for purchase, nails leaving half moon shaped indents in his skin.

"Fuck, you're so-" he chokes out, the veins in his neck pulsing with desire the more he feels himself losing control. Her mewls and moans fill the otherwise quiet room, whispering his name like a chant, "I'm gonna-"

"Yes…Billy…need you" she whispers, her hands gripping his shoulders again when the pressure inside her lets loose once again, making her tighten around him.

He cums with a shattered moan against her neck, rocking himself against her a few more times for friction before stilling inside her warm heat as it convulses around him, the aftershocks of he orgasm only serving to prolong the pleasure of his. He can feel his blood humming with hunger and a sense of completion, like he's found the other half he'd been after, and doesn't want to let it go now.

He can feel their heartbeats against each other, her chest meeting his with every sharp inhale. Her skin is so warm and soft against him, he never wants to know what it's like to not have her again.

When he looks down at her, her eyes find his quickly and for a moment they admire the fucked-out expressions on their faces, the large dilation of their pupils and how their touch goes form harsh and needy to tender and loving.

She smiles tiredly and he can still feel her heartbeat inside her, even as he begins to soften.

"Tea's gone cold…" he breathes out between pants.

Her laugh fills his heart with warmth, a genuine laugh with teeth and those little lines around her eyes. And he can't help but feel a bolt of pleasure up his spine at how the laugh reverberates through her body to his cock.

He falls to his side against the sofa, lazily pulling a blanket over them and pulling her to his chest, running his fingers through her wavy, slightly tangled hair. He kisses the crown of her head, inhaling her scent, musky from the rain with a whisper of her shampoo.

"Stay here…please…" he begs, his voice thick, as if he couldn't bear the rejection of her saying no. Not after everything. He even feels his chest tighten at the thought.

Her head moves to look up at him, reaching out to bring his face to hers, kissing his lips so tenderly it made him want to weep.

"I could never leave you…ever" she whispers against his lips, slotting hers against his once more, her hand ghosting over his heart. To feel how alive he is.

Those three words don't even need to be said. They both knew it. Knew it had never left even in their absence. When their hearts had been divided.

But for old time's sake, they said it anyway.

Dividers by @saradika

General Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics

Billy W Taglist: @fan-goddess & for my Billy simps @assortedseaglass

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prodbyton · 7 months

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into you (l.at) TEASER

teaser wc: 1.8k | full fic wc: est. 15k

RELEASE DATE: friday, march 1st

read full fic here

this is all too much. anton used to like you? how come he never said anything? you excused yourself from his parents, and made your way to the kitchen.

“hey mom, i’m a little tired so im gonna head upstairs.” you walk in to her drying and putting away dishes, while anton washes them. he looks over you, noticing the tone in your voice along with the look on your face wasn’t because of fatigue, but that something was wrong.

“okay baby, let me know if you need anything.” she walks to the end of the kitchen island where you were standing, giving you a hug goodnight. “anton, why don't you go with y/n upstairs? it's getting late, and I can finish up in the kitchen.” she turns from you to look at the boy scrubbing away at a pot, and he stops dead in his tracks at her words.

“i was just going to head back with my parents once we finished,” he starts, looking at your mom and then at you, not wanting to intrude. he did want to talk to you, but he didn’t want to be in your space if you didn't want him there.

“don't be silly, anton! you two are a couple and are old enough now, i don't have to separate you two” she laughs, and you and anton just stare at each other awkwardly. you were going to tell her to let it go, but because of the unique situation you two were in it was probably the best idea to follow your moms orders. you motion for him to follow you, you both saying goodnight to your mom and then to his parents. you’re walking towards the stairs to go to your room, when anton tells you that he’ll be back to get his bag out of his car.

while he grabs his things, you make your way up to your room. You leave the door open, just in case anton doesn't remember which room was yours. walking to your window, you open it and stick your head out so you can get some fresh air.

what a night, you’re thinking to yourself. you need to calm down. with what happened on monday and what antons parents were telling you earlier, you were just too in your head. too much was happening too fast. why was this affecting you so much? and with that you hear footsteps coming into your room and then a door closing.

“are you alright? you looked a little flushed downstairs” the soft voice calls to you, and you know that its anton.

you take a deep breath before turning to face him. “i'm fine. i am now, at least. I just kind of felt bad for lying right in my mom and your parents' faces. I had to get away from them” your voice is low while you speak, looking to the floor once again to avoid his eyes. he takes note of your body language, seeing that you’re a bit tense and awkward now but he doesn’t want to pry.

“If you want i can sleep on the floor,” he’s placing his bag on the chair by your desk, grabbing something to change into for bed.

“no, that's too uncomfortable. You can sleep on the bed” you say it in a way where its clear there's no room for debate, and he nods.

anton would never admit it to you, but he found you severely intimidating. even when you two were younger, he was always intimidated by you. you carried yourself well, you didn’t take bullshit from anyone, always got your way, and you were stubborn. he was surprised your personalities didn't clash, he felt like you wouldn't want to be friends with someone like him. but truthfully that's what brought you two together. it was like fire and ice, you were the fire and he was the ice to cool you down.

but with being the ice, he was too scared to touch you in fear that he would melt.

another week passes by, and you feel like you were going insane. You don't know what it is, but every time you see anton, your heart starts racing, your face heats up along with the rest of your body.

when he holds your hand or rests his hand on your thigh when you two were out with friends, you had to keep your composure to the best of your ability. especially when he would subconsciously graze his thumb across the back of your hand, the action small and going unnoticed to the naked eye, but feeling too intimate for you and you would pull your hand away.

the days that he would come over to your apartment or you would go to his dorm to hang out after classes, you found yourself feeling nervous. especially when you two were at your place, seeing him in your room and in your bed had you feeling like jelly. sometimes he would fall asleep before you, and you wouldn’t wake him up. It would be late, and you would feel bad for waking him up and making him go back to his dorm. you were comfortable enough around him anyways to tell him to move, and he never slept too close to you throughout those nights. a deep part of you wished he did, though. but you don't want to think about crossing that path yet.

a few more days passed, and on wednesday, you went with him to his swim practice so you two could go back to your apartment and order takeout once he was finished. you brought a book with you since you didn’t know much about swimming, and you wanted to keep yourself occupied while you waited.

an hour of practice goes by and lets just say, not a single page of the book you brought with you was read. not like you would be able to focus on reading anyways, seeing how he swam in the water was a lot more entertaining than you thought. along with how he looked when he pushed himself out of the water, full body on display. His broad shoulders, his toned arms and stomach, the droplets of water dripping from his hair down his back, the way he throws his head back to move his hair out of his face-

wait a damn minute.

you needed to leave, feeling hot suddenly. were you really sitting here thirsting over anton? Of course, you always found him attractive. you would be silly if you didn't. But you never had any thoughts about him. and you don't want right now, in the campus pool, to be where you start. You walk down the bleachers, trying to think of an excuse of why you’re leaving the building.

“y/n? you leaving?” anton catches you before you could find him, you turn around to see him speed walking towards you and you almost let out a giggle seeing he hasn't taken his goggles off.

“It’s just kind of humid in here. i'm gonna sit outside until you finish, okay?” you clutch your bag a bit tighter, him standing wet and shirtless in front of you is making you nervous. He’s peering down at you, smiling lightly before he lets you know he’ll be out in around 30 minutes.

you nearly trip on your way out, feeling refreshed once you finally escape the pool room air.

did you really want to date anton? you told yourself you didn't before, but now you weren't so sure. he was the full package, everything you could ask for in a guy. so there was really nothing stopping you. but you two were friends.

he also used to like you back in grade school. key word: used to. What if he completely got over you and wouldn’t even think about dating you now? this was a tough situation, and you don't know how much longer you could keep this up with repressed feelings.

after 10 more minutes of overthinking, you can feel a presence behind you so you quickly turn your body to see anton right behind you.

“you ready?” he’s looking down at you again, hair slightly covering his eyes because of the beanie he wore. his body once again covered up by the baggy hoodie along with the black sweatpants he wore. You would never be able to guess how built he really was under the clothes he chose to wear.

you realize you might be staring a little too hard for a little too long so you give him a nod. “yeah, let's go” and he’s taking you by the hand while you follow him to his car.

he drives you two to the nearest food place you guys could agree on. you two agree on getting wings for tonight, and then make your way to your apartment. once you enter, you see sky sitting in the living room. she gives you a look only you two would be able to understand, with anton right behind you.

sky greets you two, and anton greets her back while you take off your shoes and then make your way into the kitchen. you grab two sodas, and walk out to where anton was standing. he was usually a bit awkward around your apartment if you weren’t telling him where to go, too scared that he would touch something he shouldn’t.

following you to your room with the food, anton shuts the door softly behind him. the boy was already in comfortable clothes, taking a shower before he left the locker rooms after practice and made sure that he brought something he wouldn't be uncomfortable in. You were still wearing a pair of jeans and a cute crop top under a zip up hoodie.

“i'm gonna change in the bathroom, you can pull the food out and put something on the tv,” you tell the boy sitting on your bed, and he hums in response while you leave the room. walking over to the bathroom down the hall, you take this time to relax yourself.

you quickly change into a pair of shorts and an old tshirt, and you walk further down the hall to the living room to quickly talk to sky.

“are you fucking him tonight? let me know so i can put in my headpho- ow!” you pinched her arm before she could finish her sentence.

“i am not fucking him! i just came out here to tell you that i'm gonna talk to him about it”

“okay, but if there's a change of plans let me know!”

truthfully you were going to tell him about your feelings, just not tonight. maybe friday, you got invited to a party that sohee was throwing at his frat and you know that anton will be there too.

you walk back into your room now, seeing the food laid out and a movie ready for you as you get situated next to anton on your bed. he put on some action movie, which was a genre you both equally enjoyed. being around anton was comfortable. you two were able to sit in silence, laugh, and talk without any judgments.

This could either end really good or really, really bad.

A/N: excited to post this one, its not finished yet but its almost there! i got the idea for this fic from the proposal, one of my favorite movies. lmk what you guys think and if you want to be apart of the taglist :p

#riize #riize x reader #riize smut #anton riize #riize anton #riize imagines #anton x reader #anton smut #anton x reader smut #riize x reader smut #anton lee smut #anton imagines #toniiswrld

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hexpea · 4 months

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Ch. 1 - Black Dahlia Black Dahlia flowers often represent betrayal or sadness. AN: I wrote this after getting the character guide. I learned that the Zenin estate is in Kyoto after all, along with the Kamo estate. Oops. We're going with it anyway!

The glittering lights of the world's largest city unfolded in front of you as the sleek, black sedan that carried you sped down the Shuto Expressway. It had been a five and a half hour drive that you spent entirely silent in the backseat as your youngest uncle, Daisuke, drove you toward the outskirts of Tokyo toward the imposing Zenin estate. The skyscrapers sparkled as you drove on the highway, the early setting sun casting a glow on their windows as tiny February snowflakes fell to the city streets below.

You shifted in your seat, the knot of your obi restraining you tighter than your own seat belt. You hooked your thumb under the tight fabric to take a deep breath and ease some of your pain. You hated having to dress so formal -- ironic considering the conservative family you came from who prided themselves on lineage and tradition. You were the Kamo clan's jewel, the youngest daughter of the clan head. But as a woman, youngest aside, you had 'no right' to become the heir apparent; that role instead passed down to your 'bastard' half-brother, Noritoshi, though you'd never personally call him that. He'd inherited the prized cursed technique of your family, and you convinced yourself that your father's reasoning was right. So you ignored it and adored your youngest brother, the mama's boy. Besides, you had a much more important task at hand.

Daisuke looked in the rear-view mirror at you, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he tried to analyze your facial expression while you busied yourself with studying the sparkling skyline. As your youngest uncle, who often carted you around as your attendant, you were close to him -- and those 'complications' from your 'task,' he knew all about. In fact, you saw Daisuke as more of a father, or brotherly, figure than your own father.

After such a long silence, the Zenin estate only a few minutes away as you drove away from the city, Daisuke finally broke it. "You alright, Y/N? It's been a long journey from Kyoto," his voice held deep concern. The windshield wipers of the car made a loud squeak as they dragged themselves across the too-dry glass, snow and salt still dirtying it as Daisuke sighed irritably and discharged the wiper fluid using the shifter near the steering wheel.

You turned your head slightly, meeting Daisuke's gaze in the mirror with cool composure. Swallow it down. That's what you knew best. "I'm fine, Uncle. Just contemplating the path ahead."

Daisuke nodded, acknowledging the weight of the situation. "Today, you'll be betrothed to another Zenin. You've a crucial role in...ensuring the continued influence of our clan," his tone hinted at your true task at hand, more than a measly arranged marriage. "And you know your father is...eager...to see his direction carried out promptly this time."

Your expression remained unchanged as you turned your attention back to the view outside, your eyes betrayed only a glimmer of detached determination. "I understand, Uncle. I'll play my part, and I won't fuck up...again," your voice was quiet as you tried to end the conversation quickly with your harsh, irritated tone.

"You know your role in this alliance is crucial, Y/N. The clan has invested much into this partnership with the Zenin and your abilities are our greatest asset," Daisuke focused back on the road, his voice laced with double meaning that you could easily decipher. His breathing briefly hitched as he hit a patch of black ice as the expressway you were once on turned into winding country roads.

A subtle smirk played on your lips, you felt your blood pressure starting to rise with irritation. "I'm well aware, Uncle. The Kamo clan's rise to power is at stake and I have no intention on letting us down."

Daisuke sighed, his gaze remaining fixed on the road ahead. "You've done well in the past, especially with...your late husband. But this time, try not to take seven years to finish the job. Our arrangement relies on their vulnerability and we've postponed the progression long enough."

Your eyes glinted with a cold determination as you saw the Zenin estate steadily coming into view, one of the last remaining shinden-zukuri style estates from the Heian era -- besides your own back in Kyoto. "Rest assured, Daisuke. I know what needs to be done. I've done it quite a few times before," you were throwing his first name around as if it were a threat. As close as you were, you were pestered he kept bringing up your circumstances as if you didn't know what you were doing.

Daisuke pulled the car onto the brick driveway that curved toward the front gates to the Zenin estate. You waited in the back as he got out and opened the door for you, offering his hand to assist your movements. You did your best to gracefully exit the vehicle despite the tight skirt of your kimono, the slowly setting afternoon sun providing a warm backdrop to the otherwise solemn occasion for the reason of your arrival. You shivered as you felt the cold air at your wrists and ankles, feeling lucky for wearing a thick kimono for once.

He led you toward the imposing front gates, the two of you being greeted by a few attendants who then led you toward the main building where your father-in-law Zenin Naobito, the twenty-fifth head to the Zenin clan, awaited you.

"Make them believe you're mourning, Y/N," Daisuke whispered in your ear, slightly leaning down as two female attendants quietly led the way toward the center building. "But remember your duties."

With a nod, accompanied by your irritated expression, you entered the estate to find Naobito lounging informally on a zabuton. I don't need to pretend, you thought to yourself, I am in mourning.

Naobito was sucking down sake from an o-choko as if it were nothing before pouring himself another from a gourd. He leaned against the armrest to his zabuton, one leg curled inward with the other propped up, his elbow resting on his knee.

The attendants who had led you there silently closed the shoji doors behind you as you stepped toward Naobito, keeping a step behind your uncle. Considering you'd been dealing with the Zenin clan since you were a child, you knew all about their cold and conniving ways, particularly that of the misogynistic nature. You knew to keep your mouth shut and your head low, at least in front of a man like Naobito.

The main room of the estate was large, built of the sturdiest wood. The ceiling was held up with large wooden pillars throughout the room made of the same wood that planked the floors. You stood with your uncle on the large, raised platform in just your socks against the tatami mats. Naobito was sitting at the front of the room alone with attendants stationed at each of the doors in the room.

Daisuke took the first move, bowing respectfully to adhere to the formalities of clan politics. "Zenin-sama, I bring you Kamo Y/N. She comes to offer her condolences on the passing of your son and her late husband, Zenin Naohiro."

Naobito looked up from his lounging position, taking a prolonged sip from his next cup of sake, staring at the two of you with an air of indifference. His sharp eyes assessed you, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of recognition that made your heart flutter nervously. However, it was quickly replaced by the cold mask that almost always defined him.

"Daisuke," Naobito greeted casually, setting his sake cup aside. "It's been some time. I trust the journey here was uneventful?"

"Indeed, it was. We're grateful for your hospitality over the next few days," he responded professionally, continuing to adhere to formalities despite Naobito's lack of interest.

Naobito nodded dismissively, his attention turning to you. His cold stare was almost enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Y/N, a pleasure to see you as well," he remarked with a slight smirk, not bothering to rise from his seated position.

You kept your eyes low, dipping into a respectful bow of your own. You did your best to maintain a somber expression as Daisuke introduced you more formally. "Zenin-sama, allow me to present once again, Kamo Y/N, youngest daughter of the twenty-fourth head to the Kamo clan."

Naobito studied you for a moment, his gaze piercing through the layers of your kimono and the stoicism you presented. "Pity about the circumstances that bring you here...again," he remarked, a cruel glint in his eyes.

You inclined your head in acknowledgement, maintaining the facade of grief as it came naturally. "Thank you, Zenin-sama. I am honored to be here despite the sorrow that accompanies my arrival."

Naobito waved his hand dismissively, clearly uninterested in niceties. "Let's get on with it then. Daisuke, our arrangement?"

Daisuke cleared his throat, shifting into his formal tone once more. "As agreed, Y/N will be betrothed to one of your sons, or another appropriate clan member should a son not be available, securing the alliance between our clans. The Kamo clan seeks the strength and protection of the Zenin, and in return, we offer our influence and support with regard to matters involving those higher in rank."

Naobito's indifferent demeanor remained unchanged as he listened to your uncle's formalities. After a moment, he sighed audibly, a hint of annoyance tainting his expression.

"Unfortunately, all of my other sons are already married...save for one," Naobito stated coldly. "Naoya is my youngest, and he remains unmarried. I suppose he'll have to suffice for this...pathetic alliance. Though, I expect his resistance. The boy's not one known for his behavior."

Daisuke nodded respectfully, acknowledging the limitations of the situation. "We appreciate the flexibility, Zenin-sama. I'm sure Naoya will be a worthy match for Y/N."

Naobito leaned back after rolling his eyes, taking another sip of sake as he considered the arrangement. He turned to one of the attendants quietly standing against the wall. "Go and fetch Naoya. Inform him of the situation and bring him here promptly."

The attendant nodded, a flicker of fear evident in her eyes, but they quickly composed themselves and exited the room in haste. Naoya, known for his unpredictable and ruthless nature, was a figure to be feared even within the Zenin clan.

The silence was deafening as you, Daisuke, and Naobito stared at one another while waiting for the attendant to return. After a short few moments, the attendant returned with a hesitant bow, her eyes showcasing an obvious mix of fear and trepidation. She spoke in a hushed tone, addressing Naobito with utmost respect. "I apologize, Zenin-sama, but Naoya refuses to come. He is still resting, as he returned late last night from a...festivity."

Naobito's face tightened with irritation, his fingers drumming impatiently on the tatami mat next to him. "Still sleeping? At this late hour? Unacceptable." He turned to the attendant with a stern expression. "Gather more attendants. If he refuses, drag him in if you have to. I won't have my son shirking his responsibilities for his...indulgences."

You gave Daisuke a certain look that blatantly showed you were trying to hold back laughter despite yourself. You found Naobito's lack of control over his children amusing. Naohiro had been the same, disobedient to his father, though he was much more gentle with you. Naoya, you knew, was going to be a problem. Daisuke lightly nudged you to behave as he held his polite expression.

The attendant, visibly more nervous now, nodded and quickly exited the room. Naobito sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, his annoyance evident. "That boy has no sense of responsibility. Always chasing after fleeting pleasures."

The fusuma doors slid open again, revealing a group of female attendants. They entered with conflicted expressions of determination as they wrangled a disheveled Naoya who was fighting against their grasp, still half-asleep, as he was forcibly dragged into the room in a white t-shirt, boxers, and an unfastened yukata that hung off of one of his shoulders. His bleached hair accentuated with black tips darted in a few different directions as he ripped his arms out of the attendants' grasp with a furious look on his otherwise sleepy expression.

Naoya adjusted his disheveled clothes as he stood up a bit straighter, not caring to fix his tousled hair. Naobito's eyes narrowed with displeasure as he observed his son's state. "Naoya, this is an important matter. Show some respect."

Naoya glared at his father as he stood with his feet slightly apart for balance, mind still dizzy from a night of his usual revelry. His head snapped in your direction to which his frustrated expression fell into a deep smirk. "Well, well, if it isn't the Kamo princess," Naoya sneered, his arrogant grin widening as he appraised you with a dismissive glance. "Coming to play the grieving widow, are we?"

You kept a straight face as you stared at Naoya, straightening up your shoulders to look at him head-on. You carried no fear for the immature boy standing in front of you. Daisuke, too, gave Naoya a disapproving look but refrained from saying anything, knowing the delicate nature of the situation.

Naobito, giving yet another audible sigh in an attempt to bring attention back to the task at hand, cut to the chase. "Naoya, Y/N is to be your betrothed so that our alliance with the Kamo clan can remain secure."

Naoya's eyes widened in outrage as he processed the information. "You've got to be kidding me, old man! I'm not interested in some arranged marriage nonsense," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. He clenched his fists at his sides as he glared at his father. It was nearly impossible to take him seriously considering his disheveled appearance.

Naobito's patience wore thin as he shot Naoya a stern look. "Watch your tongue, boy. This alliance, as pathetic as it seems, is crucial to the Zenin clan, and you will do as your duty demands."

Naoya rolled his eyes dramatically, an exaggerated display of defiance. "Duty? I have no duty to anyone but myself. I won't be shackled to some woman and dragged off to Kyoto like a common servant. Like my pathetic brother."

You remained composed, watching the exchange with an impassive expression. Daisuke, though disapproving of Naoya's behavior and not desiring to subject his niece to such torture, kept a respectful distance, knowing better than to intervene in the Zenin family affairs.

Naobito's tone turned even colder as he asserted his authority. "You will do as I say, Naoya. This is not up for negotiation. The alliance with the Kamo clan must be maintained and you will fulfill your responsibilities as the next clan head. Or do I need to revoke that title from you and give it to one of your older brothers?"

Naoya's bratty attitude persisted and he scoffed at his father's words. "Fine, I'll play your little game, but I'm not leaving Tokyo. If she's supposed to be my bride, the bitch can come live in my domain. I won't be caught dead in that dull city of Kyoto, not when I need to manage the Hei!"

Naobito's patience had run out, and he slammed his hand on the armrest of the zabuton, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. "Enough, Naoya! This is not a negotiation! You will follow through with this arrangement, and she will live in Kyoto with her family. The Hei may be significant, but it does not give you the right to defy our clan's decisions."

Naoya scowled, clearly displeased with the outcome. "This is ridiculous. If I have to marry her, she's staying in Tokyo. I won't be confined to that backward city!"

You took a deep breath, feeling fed up with the back and forth between petty father and son. "If I may," you began, breaking the silence with a steady voice despite the tension in the room. Naoya and Naobito's furious gazes darted toward you, equal in baffled disgust at your sudden dare to speak. "I understand his concerns about leaving Tokyo considering his responsibilities with the Hei. If it pleases the Zenin family, I am willing to remain in Tokyo as long as I am able to be provided a part of the garden to tend to my plants and a suitable place to store my...reptiles."

Daisuke's eyes widened in shock at your unexpected proposal. He knew all too well the risks involved in meddling with the affairs of the Zenin clan, especially with someone as unpredictable as Naoya.

Quietly, Daisuke leaned in closer to you, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y/N, are you sure about this? Your safety at the Zenin estate cannot be guaranteed."

You met Daisuke's concerned gaze with a silent nod, your eyes reflecting quiet determination. You were well aware of the dangers, but you were confident in your ability to navigate the treacherous waters of the Zenin clan. Turning your attention back to Naoya and Naobito, you awaited their response, your posture unwavering despite the intensity of the situation.

Naoya's arrogant grin faltered for a moment as he considered your proposal, his brow furrowing in thought. "Hmph, you're quite bold for a Kamo," he remarked, a hint of begrudging respect underlying his words. "Very well, if you're willing to tend to your plants and snakes like some common gardener, then so be it."

Naobito, though visibly displeased with the compromise, reluctantly acquiesced. "Fine, if that's what it takes to ensure the success of this alliance then so be it. But make no mistake, Kamo Y/N, any misstep on your part under this roof will not be tolerated."

You gave a small nod of acknowledgement. Inside, you felt a surge of relief and victory knowing you had secured a concession from the formidable Zenin patriarch and his bratty son.

Naobito's stern gaze shifted from you to Naoya, a clear signal that the matter was settled. "Naoya, get dressed. You will show Y/N around the estate while I finalize the details of your betrothal with Daisuke."

Naoya scowled at his father, clearly displeased with the order. "Why am I the one tasked with babysitting the princess around this dull place?"

Naobito looked toward the ceiling and clenched his jaw as if he were praying to some kind of deity. After a moment, he turned back to look at his son. "Consider it a punishment for your insolence. Now, obey your duty and show her the estate. Perhaps you'll learn something about responsibility."

Naoya huffed in annoyance but didn't dare further protest in front of his father. He shot a disdainful glance at you. "Fine, let's get this over with. Follow me, Kamo," he sneered, emphasizing your family name with a mocking tone.

You maintained your composure, but smirked as you walked behind him. "Lead the way, Zenin-sama. I'm sure it won't be as dull as you claim."

As Naoya grumbled and stormed out of the room, you continued following him, Daisuke's watchful gaze lingered on you with concern. The attendants opened the shoji doors and you and Naoya stepped out and began walking toward his room, his bare feet hardly making a sound against the spaced wooden planks of the outdoor pathway. As you followed behind, you saw his angry breath following him in the cold air of late afternoon.

Naoya walked ahead of you with an air of arrogance, fists still clenched as his black yukata flowed in the breeze of his quick pace. "I hope you're not expecting some kind of grand tour, Kamo. This place isn't as exciting as you think."

You chuckled softly, not letting his arrogance faze you. "Then I suppose I'll need to liven things up around here with my presence."

He shot you a skeptical glance as you stopped in front of his room's door, his eyes narrowed at you as he slid the door open. "Don't mistake this for willingness. I'm only doing this because the old man ordered it. I couldn't care less about a whore like you or this alliance nonsense."

As Naoya entered his room, you remained outside, leaning casually against the sliding door. You slid your hands into your sleeves for warmth as you waited. The opened door allowed you to catch glimpses of the interior where Naoya, in his disheveled state, attempted to compose himself.

The room was dimly lit, and the faint scent of strong alcohol lingered in the air. You watched with mild amusement as Naoya stumbled to dress, his bare feet unsteady on the wooden floors, a clear sign that he was still grappling with the aftermath of the previous night's festivities. His yukata hung loosely from one shoulder, revealing a toned and defined physique beneath the fabric. Despite the obvious signs of his hangover, there was an undeniable attractiveness to Naoya's disarray. His bleached, black-tipped hair, tousled from sleep and night's revelry, framed his face in a way that accentuated the sharpness of his muscular chest and arms.

Naoya fumbled with the buttons of his collared shirt, a slight grimace on his face as he tilted his chin upward, wincing from the headache that undoubtedly plagued him. With his shirt buttoned, he grabbed his dark blue hakamashita from his bed where he tossed it. As you observed his attempts to dress himself, you couldn't help but be intrigued by the contradictions within Naoya -- the audacious, carefree exterior that masked the complexities beneath. It was evident that, despite his arrogant demeanor, he was not immune to the consequences of his indulgences. He still had some growing room left.

Naoya lastly put on his white hakama pants, tying them at his waist with a bit of frustration. He shot a glance in your direction, a mix of annoyance and curiosity in his eyes. "Are you just going to stand there, Kamo, or do you plan on entering? You're letting all the warm air out," he motioned irritably to the space heater on the floor.

Your lips curled into a sly smile as you pushed off the door, entering his room with a deliberate confidence and closing the shoji door behind you. "I thought I'd give you a moment to compose yourself, Zenin. Wouldn't want to interrupt your morning routine," you chuckled lowly and crossed your arms. "Excuse me...I meant afternoon routine."

He scoffed, the arrogant smirk returning to his face. "Morning routine? More like recovering from a night well spent. But enough about that. What do you truly want? I'm not here to entertain you."

Your eyes scanned the simple yet elegant decor of his room. "Entertainment is subjective, Zenin. I'm simply here to fulfill my duties as your betrothed, as per our esteemed fathers' arrangement."

Naoya rolled his eyes, the remnants of irritation evident in his expression. "Right, the illustrious betrothal. A joyous occasion, I'm sure. Now, let's get this stupid tour over with."

Dates: February 14, 2018 - Naohiro, Naoya's brother and Y/N's ex-husband, is killed. February 18, 2018 - Y/N is sent to the Zenin estate to be married off to an eligible Zenin bachelor. AN: Reminder, this is your father and half-brother. c: (From Vol. 22)

#naoya zenin #zenin naoya #naoya zenin x reader #zenin naoya x reader #naoya zenin x y/n #zenin naoya x y/n #naoya zenin x you #zenin naoya x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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kushblazer666 · 2 months

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THINGS YOUR MOTHER SHOULD HAVE TOLD YOU

1. Take your bananas apart when you get home from the store. If you leave them connected at the stem, they ripen faster.

2. Store your opened chunks of cheese in aluminum foil. It will stay fresh much longer and not mold!

3. Peppers with 3 bumps on the bottom are sweeter and better for eating. Peppers with 4 bumps on the bottom are firmer and better for cooking.

4. Add a teaspoon of water when frying ground beef. It will help pull the grease away from the meat while cooking.

5. To really make scrambled eggs or omelets rich add a couple of spoonfuls of sour cream, cream cheese, or heavy cream in and then beat them up.

6. For a cool brownie treat, make brownies as directed. Melt Andes mints in double broiler and pour over warm brownies. Let set for a wonderful minty frosting.

7. Add garlic immediately to a recipe if you want a light taste of garlic and at the end of the recipe if your want a stronger taste of garlic.

8. Leftover snickers bars from Halloween make a delicious dessert. Simply chop them up with the food chopper. Peel, core and slice a few apples. Place them in a baking dish and sprinkle the chopped candy bars over the apples. Bake at 350 for 15 minutes!!! Serve alone or with vanilla ice cream. Yummm!

9. Reheat Pizza

Heat up leftover pizza in a nonstick skillet on top of the stove, set heat to med-low and heat till warm. This keeps the crust crispy. No soggy micro pizza. I saw this on the cooking channel and it really works.

10. Easy Deviled Eggs

Put cooked egg yolks in a zip lock bag. Seal, mash till they are all broken up. Add remainder of ingredients, reseal, keep mashing it up mixing thoroughly, cut the tip of the baggy, squeeze mixture into egg. Just throw bag away when done easy clean up.

11. Expanding Frosting

When you buy a container of cake frosting from the store, whip it with your mixer for a few minutes. You can double it in size. You get to frost more cake/cupcakes with the same amount. You also eat less sugar and calories per serving.

12. Reheating refrigerated bread

To warm biscuits, pancakes, or muffins that were refrigerated, place them in a microwave with a cup of water. The increased moisture will keep the food moist and help it reheat faster.

13. Newspaper weeds away

Start putting in your plants, work the nutrients in your soil. Wet newspapers, put layers around the plants overlapping as you go. Cover with mulch and forget about weeds. Weeds will get through some gardening plastic they will not get through wet newspapers.

14. Broken Glass

Use a wet cotton ball or Q-tip to pick up the small shards of glass you can't see easily.

15. No More Mosquitoes

Place a dryer sheet in your pocket. It will keep the mosquitoes away.

16. Squirrel Away!

To keep squirrels from eating your plants, sprinkle your plants with cayenne pepper. The cayenne pepper doesn't hurt the plant and the squirrels won't come near it.

17. Flexible vacuum

To get something out of a heat register or under the fridge add an empty paper towel roll or empty gift wrap roll to your vacuum. It can be bent or flattened to get in narrow openings.

18. Reducing Static Cling

Pin a small safety pin to the seam of your slip and you will not have a clingy skirt or dress. Same thing works with slacks that cling when wearing panty hose. Place pin in seam of slacks and ... guess what! ... static is gone.

19. Measuring Cups

Before you pour sticky substances into a measuring cup, fill with hot water. Dump out the hot water, but don't dry cup. Next, add your ingredient, such as peanut butter, and watch how easily it comes right out. (Or spray the measuring cup or spoon with Pam before using)

20. Foggy Windshield?

Hate foggy windshields? Buy a chalkboard eraser and keep it in the glove box of your car When the windows fog, rub with the eraser! Works better than a cloth!

21. Re-opening envelopes

If you seal an envelope and then realize you forgot to include something inside, just place your sealed envelope in the freezer for an hour or two. Viola! It unseals easily.

22. Conditioner

Use your hair conditioner to shave your legs. It's cheaper than shaving cream and leaves your legs really smooth. It's also a great way to use up the conditioner you bought but didn't like when you tried it in your hair.

spotted on the Tedooo app

23. Goodbye Fruit Flies

To get rid of pesky fruit flies, take a small glass, fill it 1/2' with Apple Cider Vinegar and 2 drops of dish washing liquid; mix well. You will find those flies drawn to the cup and gone forever!

24. Get Rid of Ants

Put small piles of cornmeal where you see ants. They eat it, take it 'home,' can't digest it so it kills them. It may take a week or so, especially if it rains, but it works and you don't have the worry about pets or small children being harmed!

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multi-fandom-lunatic · 1 month

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Message in a Bottle - Percabeth Oneshot

“Sometimes you’ve gotta sit back and enjoy the waters. Right, Perce?” My mother said, her soft voice blending with the waves. She tilted her head upward, and it looked like she was glowing, haloed by the evening sun.

The sand was grainy and light as I let it slip between my little fingers. It was too dry to build a sandcastle, though. I ran down where the waters met the land, planting myself a small distance from the waves. I liked the beach even then. The soft crash of waves on the sand, the wind whipping my jet-black hair, and how the waters matched my sea-glass eyes. I began to pile the sand into towers, building a mansion for the insects and crabs that roamed the sand. I dug a moat around the castle, allowing the waves to gush and fill the moat.

Even today, in perfect beach conditions, wrinkles etched by stress aged my mother's face. It was clear, especially when her face morphed from the carefree mom who bought me ice cream on weekends to the wife she had to be for Gabe. Even the beach couldn't cure that.

I turned away from my sandcastle as a wave washed over my feet, bringing a small glass bottle and a scroll wrapped up inside. I uncorked it and turned it upside down, spilling the paper on the sand with a small pen I hadn't seen earlier. It was blank. I pondered, drumming my hands against my face, about who had sent this note for a few seconds when my six-year-old brain kicked in.

I grabbed the pen with force, uncapping and scribbling on it, illegible handwriting filling the pink paper. I balled the paper and pushed it into the bottle. I capped it and threw it into the sea, channelling all my strength. I waved goodbye to it, watching the waves carry it somewhere.

My mother turned to me, eyes crinkling as she smiled. "Probably time we head back, Percy." She said. Her smile was beautiful, but it was hard to ignore how she longed for this place. It was hard to ignore how much I longed for it.

I nodded, picking myself up and clasping my hands in my mother's. I looked up, the height difference between us becoming apparent, as she dragged me to our car. I stole one last glance at the ocean, hoping I could convey how much I'd missed it, as I strapped into my booster seat. My mother sighed, turning on the ignition and pulling me away from the landscape.

***

We were in the same spot again, my mother relaxing on the sand and me running helter-skelter as the crisp morning air filled my lungs. I plopped down and began my plans for a new sandcastle, bigger and more ambitious than last time when a wave crashed against my leg. I turned to catch the cool, smooth object that washed up with it. The same old Pepsi bottle, but this time with a pink post-it note inside.

I rushed to undo the lid, hardly able to contain my excitement. The note from months ago had reached somewhere! I eagerly eyed the paper, my ADHD scrambling to keep up.

I got your note. I like the beach too. I don't like spiders. I'm Annabeth.

-Annabeth Chase

I squealed, causing my mother to finally look up at me. She eyed the bottle and whispered. "What did you find, Percy?"

I recounted the story to her as efficiently as I could, which was not efficient at all. She struggled to keep up, but her eyes widened when I finished talking. She looked even more excited than I was, and I couldn't understand why.

"Oh, Percy. Quickly, write back!" She said, pulling out a post-it from her bag. I wrote as fast as possible, proud to display my slightly improved handwriting. I slipped the note inside and my mother sealed it shut.

I sent it to the sea and turned to look at my mom when it was out of sight. "What if it doesn't reach Annabeth?"

She simply chuckled. "The sea has a mind of its own. But it also has a heart."

***

The sea acted as my texting service, dutifully carrying my messages to Annabeth, and right back. She always wrote in the messiest handwriting. It was like a puzzle, trying to decode what she said. But usually, the content was the same. Homework, learning, lack of friends and repeat. I never understood why she was lonely at school. She was probably one of the most amazing people I knew.

My mother just giggled every time I brought her up. She always ruffled my hair and offered me a blue cupcake. I brought Annabeth up every day.

Now I was twelve. I thought of myself as mature, but sometimes I doubted it. Sure, the childlike curiosity vanished when I hit the age, and the saturation had turned down. But sometimes, I still felt like a kid, waiting for Annabeth's messages by the sea.

I did end up with one friend, though. Grover Underwood. He was a nice guy, with bushy red hair and a personality almost as great as mine, but not Annabeth's. Grover teased me whenever I brought up my pen pal, but whatever. He didn't know Annabeth like I did.

Our peaceful life bunking schools and failing classes only lasted a while. I've always seen things differently, whether it was magic horses on buildings or monsters on the streets, but it was all too real when Mrs Dodds morphed into a monster and became my nightmare. Grover helped me fight her off, and she screeched like a harpy when she was killed. But I knew. I couldn't stay here any longer. I had to leave.

The drive to Camp Half-Blood was stressful. Grover and I clung to each other (as best bros would) as the car jerked, struggling to leave behind the raging minotaur.

But the battle was a losing one. I knew it when the monster grabbed my mother and crushed her into nonexistence. And I could see the flicker of hope and determination in her eyes. And that only made it worse.

My first day at Camp Half-Blood was a blur. Green fields stretched miles and merged into strawberry ones, and the lake was a mirror to the clear sky, but I was in my head about losing my mom. I couldn't even crack a joke all day. A gentle buzz rang in my head, reminding me that my mother was gone.

I clutched the violet bead on my neck, a gift Annabeth had made for me and sent it through the bottle. I made her the same one back, and I pictured her wearing it every single day.

A girl bumped into me. She scoffed, barely looking back, but I caught sight of her neck. The bead, just as violet as the one around my neck, with a sloppy lilac on its face. I grabbed her hand, too stunned to speak. She turned around, an angry remark written all over her face, but it faded as her eyes trailed down to the bead she gave me. We locked eyes for a moment and said at the same time, "You!"

"Annabeth?" I whispered. She swallowed and nodded.

"Percy?" She said, and my heart fluttered at the sound of her saying my name. She said it so perfectly, as if the name tasted sweet on her tongue like she never wanted to let the name go. I clung to the feeling.

She was different than she was a few seconds ago. And she was beautiful. I had a rough idea of what she looked like, curly blonde hair and grey eyes, but it was nothing like seeing her in person. Her hair formed in ringlets and blew in the breeze. Her eyes were like magnets, drawing me nearer to them. I shook away the thought.

Annabeth was by my side for everything. When I journeyed to the Underworld, and even when Grover had to sport a wedding dress. She was there when Luke . . . I might not finish that sentence.

It wasn't long before I asked her to be my girlfriend, and it was only a fraction of a second for her excited "Yes!". We'd shared many things before, a satchel, a quest, but only then did I share a kiss with her, underwater.

I was kicking my feet, sitting on the dock of Long Island Lake, the water swishing as I swung my legs. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day. The sun dipped into the horizon, waving us goodbye, and I could imagine Apollo blowing kisses in the air as he drove his chariot. the grass looked greener than usual under this sun, and I planned to share a hearty meal with Annabeth that night.

I looked down as a bottle hit my feet. Heart racing, I picked it up, feeling like a six-year-old again. I uncapped the bottle like I did with Riptide, and unfurled the note inside.

It was always meant to be and I knew it most. You're very welcome. Hope you and Annabeth are doing alright. I'm just a message in a bottle away.

-Poseidon, your dad

With shaking hands, I held the note close, feeling tears in my eyes. Of course. It was him. It was always him, passing along those notes. I didn't even question it as a kid, just allowing myself to trust the sea. And mom knew too, didn't she? All along, Annabeth and I were written in the stars, by none other than the sea.

I smiled. All of it started with a message in a bottle.

---

HOPE YOU LIKED IT YALL

#percabeth #pjo #percy #percy and annabeth #annabeth chase #annabeth pjo #annabeth percy jackson #pjo books #rick riordan #sally jackson #love #shipping #fandom #riordanverse #oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #message in a bottle #taylor swift reference

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naughtystiel · 9 months

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Dean washed his hands and looked at his smudged reflection in the mirror. Well, this wasn't the worst place, not the filthiest at least, out of all the countries they passed through together with Castiel. A case here, a case there, and so they just kept driving onwards, wherever impala took them. His hand reached out to grab a paper towel, but what a surprise, there was none provided. So, he pushed the door of the bathroom with his shoulder, shaking his hands, the droplets of water flicking him in the face. For a second he thought about turning back and dunking his head under the tap to cool down, but then decided that it'd be a better idea to just grab a couple of ice creams from the gas station instead.

Castiel was leaning against the car, his sweaty hair pushed back, off his as sweaty forehead. Apparently summer in Europe could make you sizzle within minutes and when Dean glanced at the "Welcome to Hel" sign, he was sure they missed one L in the name. Even the sea breeze wasn't helping much. Dean walked up to Castiel, his legs baking in jeans. Christ, he hated shorts, but he was very close to caving in and purchasing one of swimming shorts that swayed on a hanger outside one of many small souvenir shops.

"Hey, how about some ice cream, bud?" Dean mindlessly wiped his hands on the jeans while he waited for Castiel to answer him, but Castiel wasn't answering. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest tugging on a well fit tee, head tilted like a dog who heard something in the distance. "Cas?" Dean waved a hand in front of his face and only then his squinted eyes met Dean's. "Yea?"

"Ice cream?" Dean repeated himself and Castiel's eyes widened immediately. At first Dean thought he was just excited about a cold treat, but his already heat flushed cheeks turned even rosier. "Ice cream?" Castiel echoed and licked his lips. Dean's eyes followed the motion, but then his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why was Castiel acting like this? Did he say something weird?

"Yeah, ice cream?"

Castiel inhaled deeply through his nose and there was hunger in his eyes that almost made Dean squirm. "Cas? What's going on?"

The angel chewed on his bottom lip for a second, looking down at their shoes, as if considering how to word himself. "I went to pay for gas earlier and I overheard this couple, they were talking about ice creams too... Thought they knew some good place, so I kinda followed them, but I was so damn wrong. I understand the language, but the nuances aren't very familiar to me. Apparently ice cream doesn't meant just ice cream in Polish." A small smile was tugging on his lips now, but his gaze still hadn't left the ground. " As I said, I followed them and um... Basically walked on the guy getting blowed by the girl right behind one of the shops." Castiel finally looked up at Dean and his throat went dry, that hunger still visible in blue irises. He hooked his finger through one of the loops in Dean's jeans before he tugged onto it and then smiled wolfishly. "So, tell me Dean. Are you still up for some ice cream?"

#destiel #slavicnatural #spn #drabble.txt #vin.txt

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dearabby1990 · 3 months

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Chapter 35: Best friends day out

You’re finally done drying your hair & add a little makeup just to brighten up your face a bit & spray some of your favorite perfume. Heading downstairs towards the living room you noticed how oddly quiet it is for a house full of guys only to be met with gareth relaxing on the sofa watching Miami vice he notices you & sits up “hey goober the others went out shopping for god knows what you know how Eddie gets when he wants something so I figured I’d stay behind maybe we could have a best buds day beings it’s been awhile since we hung out just us two figured we could grab a bite & hit the record store or something” you smile and plop on the sofa next to him “sounds good fluff & stuff” you giggle & toss him your car keys & you barely let anyone drive your baby it’s a 1961 Chevy bel air not as spiffy as the one you all had for prom but still you cherish it beings it was your moms car putting lots of love & care into it replacing parts with Eddie’s help & she just got a new paint job as a gift from your love he knows how much you love light purple so he went ahead & had jimmy paint it all for you. “Really?! I can drive Paula?! Sweet!!” You laugh and you both take off to the car “man this is so fuckin cool jame!” He starts up the engine & the radio pops on you dig through your cassettes & pull out Billy Squire & show it to him “oh fuck yeah pop it in!” “Alright this is gonna be the best day ever!” My kinda lover comes on & you & gareth are singing & using your bottle of cola as a microphone laughing having a ball “oh I have an idea gare bear watch this” you flip the switch to drop the top and his eyes bulge from his head “no fuckin way this is so bad ass!” You both have the wind in your hair & not a care in the world your glad you got to spend time with gareth you both haven’t had fun like this since middle school. He pulls into the parking lot & you notice he took you to your old fave spot his parents would take you guys here before the end of the camping trips before your parents would pick you up. An old 50’s style malt shop with the best milkshakes & burgers Indiana had to offer waitresses on roller skates 🛼 glide up to your car with a note pad & pen “welcome to Marybeth’s malt shop my name is Dolores I’ll be your server what can I get for y’all this fine afternoon?” She says with a megawatt smile teal dress white apron pink skates blonde hair in a high ponytail chewing gum gareth knows me well enough to where he knows what I always get so he orders for us both “yes can we get 2 bacon cheeseburgers an order of cheese fries & 2 black cows” (old school drink gross but very popular it’s cola & ice cream like a root beer float) “sure hun anything else for you & your lovely lady?” “Oh we’re just best friends but that’s all thanks” she winks at gareth “I’ll be right out with your drinks” she skates off. You start laughing hysterically “WHAT?!” He’s confused as to why you think something is so funny “she was totally checking you out man as soon as you said we’re friends her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree” you start laughing again “bullshit she’s just being nice it’s her job!” You try to calm you laughing for a minute “okay we’ll see about that” he turns to you “what does that mean?” “Ohh you’ll see” she comes skating back with your drinks “here you both go here’s some straws is there anything else I can get you both?” You look at gareth and smirk “actually Dolores my friend here has an extra ticket to guns & roses & needs a date & you’re so beautiful maybe you two can go together hed need your number though” his face is red he looks like he wants to kill you “really?! Yes I’d love that!” She scribbles down her number and hands it to gareth and skates back off into the restaurant “how the fuck & I don’t have an extra ticket to shit Jamie what the hell?!” You pull out an envelope & pass it to him “this was supposed to be a part of your graduation gift but I can see you need it now more then later” he rips it open to pull out two front row center seats to guns & roses & flies across the gears to engulf you into a hug.

You both eat your lunch talking of ideas of what to look for in the record store. “I still can’t believe this shit what a day & it’s only the damn afternoon not only did I get a date but I have tickets to the hottest concert in Hawkins this month thanks to you jame thanks for hanging with me today” he nudges into your shoulder you chuckle “no problem fluff & stuff but let’s hurry I have to get something for Eddie at the record store as part of his graduation gift OH! Before I forget I wanna throw a graduation party for Eddie & hellfire but I want to surprise him you think you guys could help me out?” “You don’t have to tell me twice I’m here for whatever ya need”. Pulling into a parking spot you both bolt into the record store grabbing the new Iron Maiden album for Eddie knowing he’s been wanting it for quite some time. Gareth finding all he was looking for “so what else did you get him for graduation?” You smirk at him “well… I was gonna keep this a complete secret but since I know you’re good at not spilling the beans I’ll tell you since it involves us all.. so I have an account from when mom passed I haven’t touched a red cent at all I have it for future decisions but I wanted to splurge a little so I went ahead & got us all tickets to fly out to Detroit for a few days not only to go on a trip but two concerts I got us all tickets to see Kiss & 6 days after that we go see… METALLICA!!” His eyes bug out of his head “I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!!” He’s swinging you around the store almost taking out a whole display you’re cracking up. “I love ya too gare bear but remember secret!” He nods like a mad man “my lips are sealed promise.. oh man this is gonna be so fucking cool!!” You both head to check out it’s almost dinner time you’ll have to head back to start cooking sundown isn’t too far away. Hopping in the car you & gareth had a ball & have to try and make time for all your friends from now on.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #gareth emerson x reader

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zmediaoutlet · 1 year

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this land is your land

for @wincestwednesdays - americana

"Relax," Sam says, and Dean says back immediately "You relax," but that doesn't work because Sam, damn him, is so relaxed Dean's surprised he's still walking upright and not a puddle of dissolved bones, somewhere a few miles back on the sun-baked road. Where the car's sitting, steaming, the engine ticking as it cools, alone--

"You know what's wrong?" Sam says, and Dean gives him a look, and Sam says, "You know how to fix it?" and Dean rolls his eyes, and Sam says, "So what are you gonna do about it between here and that co-op in town?" and Dean says, "You know, this is how you talked when you didn't have a soul," and Sam laughs kinda soft, hitching his backpack higher.

Hot, humid, but not horrible. The fields growing up with something green. Maybe future wheat. Dean's not a farmer. The kind of summer day where you want to lay in thick grass and drink about twelve ice-cold beers and eat watermelon, or burgers off the grill, or a rainbow snowcone just dripping with every color, like remember, that time --

"Fairfield County Fair," Sam says, grinning. He drags his hair back from his forehead. Their jackets tied around their waists and Sam's sleeves rolled up to his elbows; if it gets much hotter out here he might strip that layer too and then, hey, free show. "Yeah. That was good. Other than the ghost."

"Ghost was easy," Dean says, "as was Miss Mindy the concessions girl. You remember, right? All that funnel cake?"

"I think I puked it all over the tilt-a-whirl," Sam says, dry, and Dean grins back at him so Sam rolls his eyes, but -- he remembers, and that's what matters to Dean now. When he's got this brother, stitched back together, remembering the snowcone and the tilt-a-whirl and also what it means, that they're walking side by side through this yellow afternoon, sweating their balls off.

A barn, past the next field of maybe-wheat. White-painted metal that's peeling bad as they get closer, but it's got a heavy fall of shadow in the driven-over silty dust and abandoned crates that don't collapse when Dean plants his ass on one, so it's good enough for now. "Could go for a snowcone," he says, and Sam snorts somewhere past his closed eyes and there's a thunk of his bag hitting the dirt and then scuffing away, through the silt, and Dean watches the world golden through closed lids and imagines. Sam sweating, long, his body moving sure through the shadow and then -- through the barn door, sliding on squeaky rollers -- and then into somewhere Dean can barely hear him except whatever he imagines might echo through the wall, but it's okay because he'll come back. He's promised that, now. Dean turns his head against the side of the barn anyway, his ear against the warm metal, in case there's some echo. Long night and a long day and a long night ahead and maybe it's lame but he's old now, or feels it, and he's tired. He'll take even an echo.

In the barn: dusty John Deeres, and tools Sam doesn't bother to describe, and a case of too-warm water of dubious age in cheap plastic bottles. "Thief," Dean says, but just to say it, and Sam shrugs and says, "Trespassing, too," but he cracks a bottle and hands it to Dean and Dean dumps it over his head, just to get off some of the sweat and dust. Long walk. Sam says dude and Dean says, "Bite me," but when he slicks his hand back over his head Sam ends up smiling at him, after all, and hands him another bottle to actually drink, and then -- bends at the waist and dumps water over the back of his own head, slicking his hair to black in the shade, dripping down and turning the dust to mud. Stripped down to his t-shirt after all and the water sopping the grey to dark. "See, I'm a genius," Dean says, and Sam scratches through his hair and groans like he does on other midnights and says, "Don't get ahead of yourself," but when he sits down next to Dean his hair's curling wet against his neck and he looks as relaxed as Dean's seen him in -- god, how long? Years anyway. Like Dean would see him sometimes in dreams, during that year that's pressed too close up against his back teeth, and he'd wake up on those mornings with his heart full in his chest and with a good mood, almost, that lasted until he opened his eyes and remembered what bed he was in and the mood pierced like a water balloon that hadn't popped right. Draining out slow until he was left pointless and limp.

Sun finally heading toward setting. Over the fields the air's golden, thick in that way of summer. Sky exactly the shade of a cherry '67 Mustang. Acapulco Blue. Sam's bootheels stretch out to full-length in the silt, past the mud-mess he made, and there's his legs long in denim. Dust on the hems. Dean leans forward, elbows on his knees, taking in one of those long deep breaths that when he blows it out feels like he's expelling air from decades ago. Lungs one hundred percent empty.

Big hand on the back of his neck. He closes his eyes. Sam strokes up over his head where the hair's gone spiky-wet and then smooths it back down, his thumb braced up behind Dean's ear. Heavy and hot.

"Gonna make it back to town tonight?" Sam asks. Like he doesn't know the distance just the same as Dean. Dean shrugs. Sam hums and squeezes Dean's neck, and then Dean opens his eyes and looks from where his head's held down like this to see Sam's heel draw up through the dust, and for his knee to press against Dean's, and then his hand dragging down Dean's back and then back up under his shirt, hot on damp skin, a big square heavy thing. Landing somewhere up between his shoulderblades. Dean wants it on his dick and on the side of his face thumbing his mouth and also just exactly where it is. Sam touching him. Over that last year, what he missed more than anything else. For Sam to touch him and for it to mean what it was supposed to, when Sam touched him.

"We've probably got the worst case of swamp ass this side of the Mississippi," Dean says.

"You remember that time in Tupelo?" Sam says, and of course Dean does. Of course, every single time, like some dorky glittery journal in his heart, he remembers -- Sam's face over his in Tupelo spattered with mud-and-blood and laughing at how disgusting it was, and doing it anyway; Sam's breath desperate at the back of his neck in Portland, both Maine and Oregon; Sam's fingers lacing with his in Colorado Springs, and Sam pressed chest-to-chest with him in Pittsburgh, and Sam's mouth blurring strange in the drunken dark in too many places to name. Dean remembers.

Sam lifts his hand, stretching Dean's shirt, and Dean feels the air gust up against his sweaty back before he follows it, unbending slowly, and then Sam's whole arm's shoved awkward up against his spine, his fingers and thumb bracketing Dean's neck, and when Dean tips his head back Sam's there to catch him.

"Gonna miss the show tonight," Dean says, slit-eyed. Salt in his eyelashes.

The county such-and-such. Volunteer firefighters put on the show, one of the witnesses told them. Not a big display but big enough to please the kids and the folk who hadn't got too cynical for it. He was kind of looking forward to catching it, just because. When was the last time they'd had a July 4th that wasn't some kind of miserable?

"Maybe," Sam says. His eyes on Dean's mouth. Which is so like the soulless version Dean's heels dig into the ground, some weird no instinct making him want to stand -- but then Sam's eyes flick up to meet Dean's, and he grins lopsided and dorky like Sam always used to, when he was okay enough to grin, and relief washes through Dean like stepping under a waterfall. "Could celebrate right here, though. Right?"

"You think that line actually works on anyone?" Dean says, chest blooming hot, and Sam says, "Guess we'll see," in a way that's frankly smug, and Dean rolls his eyes but he also swivels on his stolen crate-seat and presses his mouth against Sam's and gets salt-sweat and stale bottled water and also the good spit-flavor of his tongue, and so maybe Sam deserves the smug.

Birds calling in the trees by the barn, squawky-loud like they're making commentary. Sam's thigh hard and hot alongside his. At first Sam presses against him too hard and Dean grunts, and then Sam lays his other hand soft against Dean's cheek and kisses him sweet, instead, and then grips Dean's neck and kisses him just -- right, Goldilocks finding the right level of comfort. Dean lays his hand on Sam's chest and feels his heart go right out of himself, like a roman candle.

#wincest wednesday #my writing #wincest #highly recommend three versions of this song:#avett brothers for straightforward sweet #(and a music video actually worth watching)#sharon jones for a swinging funk #dave rawlings machine + i hear them all for Feels #and that was the one i listened to 5 times while writing this #from the redwood forest to the gulf stream waters --#<3

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edelfan · 1 year

Text

In These Arms Tonight | Icemav

Cross-Posted to AO3

"Shit, I'm out of flares!"

"Rooster, evade, evade!"

"I can't shake 'em. They're on me, they're on me."

"Mav, no!"

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Ice...?"

"Fuck off to where you came from, Pete!"

~•~

Mav couldn't remember at what point he had realized that it had been a mistake riding his bike in the pouring rain. It wouldn't have been the first time that he had gotten soaked, but feeling like death warmed over on the next day - without being drunk the night before - definitely hadn't been on his agenda. Especially with Carole and Bradley off in Texas somewhere, visiting relatives, it meant that he would spend his precious time of leave alone and suffering.

So instead of taking his bike out on another ride down to the beach, Mav buried himself in his bed, wrapping the blanket around his shivering body.

Maverick only realized that he had been asleep when a ringing noise woke him up. It took him more than a moment to realize it was the phone down in the kitchen.

Stumbling out of the bed, a shiver went through his whole body as he slowly made his way downstairs towards the annoying machine that almost made his head explode. He had no idea how he managed to get to it, but at least it stopped ringing, when he held it in his hand. However, he didn't even have the energy to say his name.

"Pete? Are you there?"

He really wanted to answer Carole's concerned question, but the only thing that made it out of him was a heavy bout of coughing. It hurt in his chest and it didn't seem to end.

Somehow he ended up on the floor again and it was nice enough and cool to fall asleep despite the constant yelling on the phone.

The next time Maverick woke up - or at least was more conscious - he found himself on the sofa in the living room, wrapped up in a blanket.

Ice's voice was coming from the kitchen. But Pete knew this couldn't be right. Ice wasn't here, he wasn't on leave. He was stationed in Lemoore right now...

"No... He's not waking up... Up to 104°..."

For a moment Maverick wondered which poor bastard imaginary Ice was talking about, but that already seemed too much for his tired mind and he closed his eyes again...

A cool hand caressed his sweaty forehead, making Pete lean into it.

"Oh my poor baby."

"Mom...?"

Pete tried to blink, but the figure in front of him stayed blurry. It sure wasn't Ice though.

Deep inside Pete a warm feeling started to spread, something he hadn't felt in a very long time.

"It's alright, Pete. Go back to sleep. Just know that I love you very much and that I am so sorry for leaving you behind."

The words kept echoing around Pete's mind for a long time as he once again sank into the darkness.

~•~

"And you're sure Pops will be okay with it that we took the Cadillac?"

Pete grinned while he put on his aviators.

"Of course, baby goose. First of all, he will be so happy to see you again after being away for so long. And when he finds out that you got your driver's license, he will agree that it's perfect for your first drive."

Mav's words managed to chase away the doubt in Bradley's face and soon he was mirroring his grin as he started the engine.

It was a perfect south California spring day and the sun was shining as they made their way to the base to pick up Ice. The other man hadn't been home in weeks and for tonight they had planned a barbeque by the beach.

In the end, Maverick couldn't even say what had made him react in the way he did... They had been less than a mile from the base when a pick-up had suddenly pulled out behind a truck, right into their lane. Bradley had just stared in shock as Pete had reached for the steering wheel, turning their car to the left - and eventually putting himself on the side of the impact...

"Mav...?"

"Da... ou... ay?"

"Ple... dad... ou hear...?"

Brad... Bradley...

"Dad, please..."

"Bra..."

Maverick barely recognized his own voice, his mouth dry yet tasting like blood.

"Oh my God, dad..."

When he finally managed to open his eyes, Pete saw red - blood - Bradley covered in blood.

"Ba...by Goo...se you.. blee..."

"It's okay, dad, I'm fine. Help is on the way. But you need to stay awake, okay? Please? Dad?"

He really wanted to answer him, wanted to take away the worry in his eyes, but despite his inner fight Bradley's figure became blurrier with every passing moment, until darkness overtook him.

Expecting to come to the familiar sounds of heart beat monitors and medical equipment, Maverick was more than surprised when the first thing he heard was the sound of waves on a beach. Underneath him he felt warm sand and the sun seemed to be blocked by an umbrella.

"Pete Mitchell, don't even think about getting too comfortable here."

He knew that voice. Opening his eyes, he came face to face with Carole - looking like she had in the 80s, beautiful blonde hair and sunkissed skin; no more signs of sickness or chemo.

Unable to say anything, Maverick quickly got on his knees, wrapping his arms around his friend.

"Oh, Pete..."

Carole held him for a long time, her hand slowly stroking through his hair.

When Maverick finally managed to sit back again, wiping at his face as if Carole hadn't already noticed his tears, he frowned.

"Is this a dream?"

Her smile turned sad.

"No, darling, this isn't a dream."

Laying her hand against his cheek, images suddenly flashed before his eyes - the wrecked Cadillac, the back of an ambulance, Ice holding Bradley in his arms, both crying in the emergency room of a hospital...

"This isn't permanent either. You still have many years to come, sweetheart. But I wanted to thank you... For saving my baby boy. Not just today. Let him grow old and grey before I see him again, but don't make a habit out of turning up here. There are people down there who depend on you, my dear Pete..."

He felt the ocean wind pick up suddenly. And just like the sand on this endless beach, Carole's image started to be blown away before there was nothing else but darkness again.

~•~

The jet he had been testing the last few weeks was one big fuck up. As soon as they had fixed one bug, another one would turn up. If you'd asked Maverick, it would be better to scrap the whole thing all together and start over with the next model. But it wasn't his choice to make, he was just the test pilot. And in less than four weeks he would be off to California, finally marrying the love of his life as soon as DADT would officially be history.

Until then, he had to keep flying this piece of crap. Today it seemed to be okay so far. Everything was steady and controls showed the correct data.

It almost seemed too good to be true after all their troubles. However, Maverick had learned to never celebrate too early; and unfortunately he was proofed right when he detected the slightest hint of smoke in the cockpit.

"Crane 21 to Command, there's smoke in the cockpit. I don't know where it's coming from."

"Crane 21, can you make it back to base?"

"Wondering if it's worth it."

"Maverick."

"Okay, okay, looks like I should be okay for landing."

Rushing back to the testing base, Maverick immediately started the descent. However, with every couple of feet he dropped, the smoke got more and thicker.

In the end, he couldn't say how he had managed to land the jet, but as soon as he tried to open the canopy, Maverick knew he was in deep shit. The canopy was stuck. Whatever he tried, it wouldn't budge. And with every breath his mask became more useless as he inhaled more and more smoke.

Mav's world started to close in. Somewhere on the edge of his consciousness, he noticed people trying to break the canopy from outside. His last thought was about Goose and the irony of faulty canopies, before he slipped into darkness.

The first thing Mav noticed again, were the sounds of planes above him - however it wasn't any of the experimental jets he had tested nor was it the well known F-14. He knew it though...

Slowly opening his eyes, he remembered it. The A-4, lots of them... And around him a familiar air base. The one where his father had been stationed before he was shipped off to Vietnam.

A couple feet away, a man was standing by his plane, looking at Maverick. He was wearing a more than familiar leather jacket...

"Dad?"

"Hey, Pete."

For a moment they just stood there and looked at each other, but finally it was Duke who closed the distance and embraced his son.

There were so many things Pete had wanted to say if he'd ever see his dad again, but now in this moment not a single word made it past his lips. He just felt the warmth of the hug, smelled the husky cologne that brought back long forgotten memories.

"Son... Pete... I want you to know that I am so proud of you. Of the man you've become... One hell of a pilot, hm? And marrying an admiral..."

Pete went still, his look uneasy as he focused on his dad's face - almost ready to see disgust or contempt. After all, at the point in time, when he had lost his father, things had been different and little Pete had have no idea yet that he actually like girls and boys. However, there was only love in his father's eyes.

"That Kazansky kid seems like a fine fellow and he better take care of you or I'll have to kick his ass when he'll come to the afterlife."

They both laughed, but all too soon Pete felt himself starting to fade away again.

"I love you, dad."

"I love you, too, Pete."

~•~

"Just... a little... push..."

Staring at the controls, Maverick pushed the stick slowly but surely a bit further. His heart was hammering in his chest, the Darkstar humming around him as it made it past Mach 10.1. Of course, he knew that he had made it, had made sure that the project would be continued, but he wouldn't be Maverick if he didn't try to find the absolutely limit. With the humming turning into heavy vibration, he knew that he had found it.

"Oh shit!"

A blazing 10.4 was the last thing Maverick took in, his hand flying towards the ejection button, before everything turned dark...

"That's your idea of fun, Mav?"

Pete came around to the sound of someone plunking away on a piano. And that voice... Slowly the cloudy surroundings cleared and gave way to a familiar diner - somewhere he hadn't been to since his short stint as Top Gun instructor. Sitting at the piano, there was a familiar figure dressed in a Hawaiian shirt...

Maverick had no idea how he had moved so fast, but not even a moment later he found himself in Goose's arms. Tears were running down his face and he kept on mumbling apology after apology, all while Goose just held him close.

"Oh, stop it, Mav. We both know it was an accident. There was nothing you could have done."

"Goose-"

"No. Stop feeling guilty. I know that you took care of my family, I even know that you held onto me until the chopper arrived. You are my best friend, Mav, and that's why you need to listen to me now. We don't have much time..."

Goose held him at an arm's length, looking at him while Mav tried to wipe away his tears. When their eyes finally met, Goose just grinned. He lay his hand in Maverick's neck, pulling him close again until their foreheads touched lightly.

"It's not your time yet, Mav. People still need you down there... Bradley needs you. His life depends on it..."

Maverick started to feel the almost familiar pull. He tried to hold onto Goose, but all his strength didn't help him as the diner around them started to fade away. The last thing he heard were the notes of 'Big Balls of Fire'.

~•~

"Grampa?"

Small and slightly sticky fingers were poking Maverick's face.

"Grampa, wake up."

"Hmmm, what is it, sweetpea?"

He didn't open his eyes, but wrapped his arms around the little girl in front of him, pulling her close. Blowing a raspberry on her cheek, made her giggling heavily and for a moment she tried to free herself before deciding that Pete's arms still were the place to be.

"Papa told me to get you. He said he and Daddy are finished." Neka whispered loudly into Maverick's ear.

"Oh really? Then it's definitely time to get up!"

As graceful as possible in his age, his arms full of squirming toddler, he got up and off the old leather sofa in the hangar.

Things had changed a bit over the last ten years in here. What had once been his not so little hideaway, now mostly belonged to Bradley.

Being medically discharged after his own encounter with cancer, his godson had needed a distraction and Maverick had given it to him. These days Bradley was mostly healthy, on pension and looking after his and Jake's adopted little girl.

And just like Maverick himself he had started restoring old planes. Over there, in the sun shining through the open doors of the hangar was his latest project - a L-3 Grasshopper, the cockpit realigned so that it could fit three people behind each other.

Bradley had finished the last repairs a few days ago and earlier today he and Jake had made it ready to fly for the first time.

Maverick carried his granddaughter over to where the younger men stood beside the Grasshopper. Jake was grinning like a child himself when he took Neka out of Mav's arms.

"You ready, Pops?"

"You know I was born ready, Captain Seresin."

Shortly afterwards, they were soaring over the Californian desert - Bradley piloting with Jake sitting right behind him, holding Neka in his lap.

Maverick was seated in in the backseat. It wasn't that often that he got to fly anymore these days, but nothing could ever compare to this feeling of being free and on top of the world...

"Daddy... I think Grampa fell asleep again..."

He woke up to the feeling of familiar arms around him. Soft fingertips were stroking the skin on his arms while a kiss was placed on his forehead. Pete didn't need to open his eyes to know whose warm embrace was holding him close.

"Please don't send me back... not this time, Ice."

"No, baby, it's okay. You're here to stay with me. Welcome home, Pete."

#icemav #hangster #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun 1986 #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #top gun angst #top gun fic #my writing

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rosewaterandivy · 1 year

Text

keep the windows open wide

🎵🎵 I like the way that your hair tangles, the way your suntan’s only on one side 🎵🎵

Summary: Summer roadtrippin' with Steve.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem reader

WC: 2K

Warnings: the usual - prose idolatry and feelings (my blog is NSFW 18+, minors DNI), self-edited, waxing poetic about summer Steve.

A/N: Inspired by “When We Drive” by Death Cab for Cutie & reading poetry, as per usual. Reblogs, feedback, & likes are appreciated - reposting is not. Enjoy! 💜

divider by @newlips

There’s something poetic about a midsummer drive in an ancient car from god knows when. Indigo blue with the paint peeling off. Dry snakeskin ridged cellophane on rolled down windows, crinkling a static refrain as it flaps violently against the glass pane.

The air conditioning occasionally works, so you make do with dry summer breeze sweeping through. Blessedly, if it pleases, surging down the neckline of your shirts, cooling your backs for only a second. A small ice chest is under your foot, full of popsicles and Gatorades. The trash bag is shoved in the backseat behind Steve, overflowing with crushed plastic and stained wood sticks.

“You alright?”

A dull pang behind your eye. You shove the sunglasses further up on your nose, hoping the dark lenses will be enough to dampen the bright summer sun blazing through. With one hand, you scrounge around for your bag in the footwell. Steve reaches over, popping open the cooler to rifle around.

Piercing the foil, you pop the pill into your mouth and swallow. He tears open a packet with his teeth. “Here.”

A small smile as you take it from his slack grip. Electric blue like the way he shocks you with his touch. The sugared ice slides right down your throat and soothes the fever in your fingertips. A warm hand falls to your thigh giving a light squeeze.

Steve has already returned to his side, staring at the road ahead, eyes catching the mile marker signs.

You end up stopping at dusk.

Not long after taking some maxalt for your migraine, Steve suggested that you try to lay down for a nap in the backseat. “S’okay honey, I got the wheel.”

Clambering over the console and settling yourself against the bench seats proved to be a momentary relief. The issue, as it happened, was the being in motion bit. The nausea crept in slowly enough that you could alert Steve.

“We gotta stop.”

“Like, right now?”

He reaches an arm behind him to seek you out, warm hand against the damp of your limbs. As if he has to feel for himself to ensure you’re right where he left you.

“Gettin’ dizzy,” You rasp, arm thrown over your eyes.

Steve hums a patient tune, squeezes your forearm, fingers lingering against your skin and you watch as the sunbeams drape his chest like a mantle.

“Jus’ that place, there,” You sit up and blearily point at what you hope is a motel sign.

Steve turns off the highway and into the parking lot with a sigh. Killing the engine, he turns toward you, looming over your prone state in the backseat.

“The It’ll Do Motel?”

“Sure.”

“But,” He sputters, eyes taking in the sign that’s seen better days, perishing the thought at what else in the motel had seen better days—

“It won’t do,” frustrated.

“I don’t think we’re in a position to be picky here Harrington.”

Another beleaguered sigh as he runs his hand through his hair, the muffled shutting of the car door. You close your eyes, curling up against the seat cushions while attempting to take steady breaths in and out.

“Just your luck,” The motel clerk greets him with a bright smile. “We’ve got one room left for tonight, and it’s all yours.”

Steve takes the key from the woman’s hand and signs the guest check-in form. Thanks her for the help as he turns to leave, the buzz of the neon sign clicking on to display ‘No Vacancy.’

He returns to the car to see you passed out in the backseat and is careful when easing into gear to park in front of your room for the night.

“C’mon champ,” He says, nudging you awake.

You scrunch your nose and sit up feeling like an eyesore next to Steve. Tummy quivering at the sudden motion, you brace yourself against the car door. Steve’s there in an instant, hands wrapping around your arms, steadying you.

It’s unfair how effortlessly handsome he looks. Hair windswept and annoyingly perfect, bronzed skin, the barest hint of five o’clock shadow against his jaw and cheeks—

“Hey.”

He’s peering up at you from his crouched position outside of the door, eyes finding you through the hazy blue of the evening. You turn and blink, looking back down. “Hey.”

Your breath rushes out like a current as Steve stands, reaching in slow-motion, or what feels like it as your blood thumps in your ears. The collar of your ratty Hawkins Phys. Ed. shirt soft against the column of your neck. He’s close. Nose nearly touching your cheek, hair centimeters away from your jaw.

The wind gusts by, lifts tendrils of your locks onto exposed collar, pulling forth a shudder. Under the chill of the night air, your goosebumps prickle awake, stinging your chest with apprehension.

“You gonna make it?”

Steve places his hand on your chin, a light stroke of his thumb and pointer, and it feels like a firework. Scorching hot, igniting every nerve ending. He doesn’t wait for either protest or approval. Instead, he slides back into the growing darkness, extending only his hand. The surface glistens like a beacon, slivers bouncing light over his eyes.

A brief nod, the pain behind your eye flaring up again momentarily as you slowly stand. He’s there, as he’s always been, a guide in the darkness and always close enough to touch. You lean against him while he opens the door, key jangling against the metal of the doorknob.

Ushers you inside the dark cool of the room with ease, a hand to your lower back as he closes and locks the door. Barely able to make out that there’s one bed in the room, you mumble,

“Don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

He quiets your worries with a low purr.

“Y’sure? I’d be fine on the couch.”

A press of his stubble to your neck and then a soft sigh. You don’t quite know what it means, this affection. Transient poetry, at least. Requited love, if only.

“S’fine,” You get out before collapsing on the bed, tugging Steve down with you. Sleep coming swiftly thereafter.

Steve doesn’t sleep as easily as you, too wound up from the drive— he can still feel the phantom wheels turning beneath him despite it all. Didn’t want to chance the sound or light from the TV waking you, so he contented himself drawing lackadaisical patterns onto the exposed skin of your side.

Shirt rucked up from tossing in your sleep, seeking out the warmth of his body, not satisfied until your fingers found purchase against his waist, head tucked against his chest— the sound of his heartbeat lulling you toward blessed oblivion.

Chilled from the A/C blasting through the room, your hands somehow slipped beneath the worn cotton of his shirt, splayed against the dip of his low back in an effort to warm them. You were an absolute menace in sleep, desperate to seek out any shred comfort and warmth even in your unconscious state.

Steve didn’t mind it, in fact, he was more than happy to oblige.

The imprint of your body is a solid comfort against his. Has to remind himself to just act normal. Because you’re friends on a roadtrip, a desperate attempt to escape the summer heat and drudgery of Hawkins. It shouldn’t matter that his heart flutters in his chest with each breath you take, that he’s trying so hard to keep his eyes and hands to himself.

But it does matter, because it’s you.

He can’t remember where he’d picked it up, but once upon a time Steve had heard something that stuck with him and it was something like this: that falling in love was like falling asleep, slowly at first and then all at once.

And he hadn’t realized he was falling until he was in the middle of it.

As close to you as he’s ever been.

And you, blissfully unaware and lost in dreams— snuffling against his chest every so often and turning to burrow in even further, as if you possibly could. Steve would let you, without question— you could cleave and carve into the cage of his ribs, make yourself a home there if it meant he got to keep you.

Just for a while, at least.

It’s with this thought that he finally succumbs to sleep.

Morning broke over the treescape early, shone white and livid into your tired eyes. Steve found the two of you tangled in the sheets, fingers entwined and you snuffling into the pillow. He squeezed your hand, pulled you up with him, and let you shower first.

The axels squeak as you pull back onto the highway, leaving the sleepy motel behind in the early morning light. Steve’s riding shotgun, sunglasses lazily thrown on and balancing precariously on his nose— he’s leaning back against the seat, facing the window.

Before leaving town for good, you spot a drive-thru that’s not too crowded and get in line. The intercom sputters to life— the cashier greeting you lazily all the while trying to remain hospitable. Steve’s shoulder brushes against your cheek as he clambers over the consol to place the order, his shirt smells like the sage and cedar of his cologne run through with a bit of detergent.

He rattles off your order like it’s nothing, route memory at this point—two hash browns, one black coffee, a bacon egg and cheese biscuit. Adds a sprite on as well, because you’ll inevitably want one later. The attendant rattles back the order to Steve’s satisfaction and the car lurches forward. He’s retreated back to his side now, save for the hand on your leg.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary, Steve is tactile like that; always has to have contact with some part of you— hands, fingers, thighs, so you think nothing of it. The static of the radio crackles through the car as he fiddles with the dial until catching on a nearby station.

“Shit yeah,” he says, settling back into the seat. Sings along with the Eagles, “Come on baby, don’t say maybe, I gotta know if your sweet love is gonna save me.”

Steve sings along to the radio while you follow the sloping curves of the Rocky Mountains. It makes your heart swell because damn, how’d you get so lucky?

He only gets louder as the song comes to an end, turning to serenade you through the mountain pass— you grin, trying desperately to focus on the road while his fingers tap idly against your thigh.

“Here Stevie,” you say linking your fingers through his, and place both entwined hands on his thigh.

He chuckles, bringing the back of your hand to his lips for a kiss. Warmth floods your chest at the motion, the intimacy of it— so much for not getting distracted, dealing with Steve Harrington and his wiley ways.

Steve lets your hands drop back to rest on his leg, eyes twinkling with some secret knowledge.

“What?”

“You called me Stevie.”

“Did I?”

“Uh huh,” He smiles, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. “S’nice.”

“That so? Might happen again,” you tease, pastel hues breaking along the treeline as the car chugs up the slope.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

You hum in response. He turns toward you, glasses pushed up into his riot of hair— bedhead run rampant only mildly contained between the plastic arms of his sunglasses. Eyes unguarded, flecks of golden patina surveying you steadily.

Gold like his summer skin under the sun. Gold like the laughter that bubbles from your mouth as he sings along to the radio and points out every kind of wildlife he sees. Gold like how you’ll miss him, miss this— carefree summers by his side, seeing where the road takes you.

In your head and heart you know, like you’ve always known, that it’s always back to him. Steve knows too, but for now is content to watch, waiting for your permission.

The road stretches out long before you, as the sun bursts above the horizon heralding a new day.

#steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff

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