#what did the stage direction things say on the strip for that scene i wonder | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

laurore-stormwitch · 3 years

Text

BEWARE THERE ARE ROW SPOILERS IN THIS FAN FICTION

So, I did something. Rule of Wolves left me in tears. But I felt we were missing an epilogue, and that’s my take. We can see a little of Nikolai courting Zoya, his proposal and the wedding. I poured all my love into this, all of how much these characters mean to me. I hope it can bring comfort and a smile to all of you who love them as much. I don’t say it much, but this is one of the things I loved most writing, and I hope you’re gonna enjoy it. I send a big hug to whoever has taken this grishaverse wild ride word count: 4953 you are my endless summer - ao3

“Is this strictly necessary?”

Zoya asked, faking more annoyance than she felt. She wondered what kind of crazy idea had come to Nikolai’s mind this time, as she stumbled through the woods with a strip of cloth tied on her eyes. Nikolai was guiding her, holding her hand and her elbow to steady her through the fallen branches on the ground. He didn’t answer, but she could swear she could hear the smug smirk on his face.

“I already know where you’re taking me. You’ve kept me away from the garden for two months, I kind of figured out what you were doing.”

“How cunning you are. That’s why I love you.”

She nudged him on what she hoped was his stomach, eliciting a laugh from his side.

“Humour me Zoya, please. What kind of a surprise would it be if I let you see?”

“The kind where you don’t end up being a pile of smoking dust.”

Nikolai laughed again, a crystal-clear sound that made her heart twitch. The threat was not that far from the truth. Nikolai had been entertaining himself way too much with this idiotic courting thing he had decided to pursue. She thought back on when she believed she could have a quiet romance with him. A quiet romance with a man who has a double identity as a privateer and wears a ridiculous teal frock coat. Great thinking, Zoya.

The first hint of how much not quiet Nikolai was going to be had been the absurd deal of public flirting he engaged in, knowing damn well how Zoya was used to propriety. And bitter and ruthless words, at the very best. Not even under torture she would admit how endearing it had been instead; better to keep scolding him. However, as usual, Nikolai saw right through her pretence, caught the gleam of amusement and desire in her eyes. That had only made him become more daring and blatant. Nothing could compare for him to the satisfaction of leaving Zoya speechless. Zoya had tried to match his bold attitude, but she had to admit she was not half as good as him. To this day, he was still rubbing in her face the time where she had almost caused a diplomatic incident due to the shock of his shamelessness. He had just got back from a trip to Ketterdam, right after the coronation. They were waiting at the palace’s gates to meet with the Shu delegation, coming to pay their respect to the recently crowned queen. Nikolai had chosen the moment where their newly acquired allies were emerging from the carriages to lean into her ear to whisper, ignoring the fact that they were surrounded by soldiers and dignitaries, and not just Genya and Alina like last time; Nikolai loved an audience as much as he loved himself.

“I see you’ve resorted back to your kefta”, he had muttered in a casual tone.

Zoya had cut him a quick glare, saying something she would regret later. “Did you like the coronation dress better?”

“Oh no, not at all. If I remember correctly, I suggested you get out of that.” The Shu delegation was getting closer. Nikolai had lowered his voice even more, starting to smile at them. “I stand to my suggestion. There are several outfits I like better on you than a dress. Namely, your kefta, which I'm happy you got back.” She had kept her eyes trained in front of her, ignoring him. “Or the rough spun clothes you use when we are on the Volkvolny.” He had plucked a non-existent dust from his sleeve, keeping the nonchalant attitude of someone who was speaking about the weather. “Your nightdress, the one that looks like a starry night and has a shockingly small amount of fabric.” He had waved a hand in Ehri’s direction, who by that time had been a couple of steps too close to them for Nikolai to keep talking. But the man did have a tendency to risk his life. “But you with nothing on would definitely be in first place.”

Zoya had widened her eyes and a violent rush of blood had tinged her cheeks, while Nikolai had sprinted on to welcome her guests and she stood there like an idiot, trying to catch back her composure. After that, she had quickly understood just how much Nikolai appreciated a challenge. And when he understood just how much Zoya hated to cause a scene, that had been the end for her. At least it seemed like they were alone right now. Better to be safe than sorry, although.

“Nikolai, please at least tell me you’re not about to stage another of your embarrassing public fit.” She asked him now, half pleading and half threatening, as they made their way through the woods.

Nikolai chuckled. “Not this time. And do not lie to me, I know you’ve enjoyed my scenes.”

“I have not.”

“Not even a smidge?”

“You should thank the Saints you’re still breathing after all the stunts you pulled.”

“The Saints and your infinite love for me, I suppose.”

“My love may be infinite, but I assure you my patience is not.”

Zoya tried to keep the smile from her voice, failing miserably. Nikolai had a way to overwhelm her with a now familiar lightness and serenity. Their bickering, his hand in hers, his scent in the air. It all felt like home. So much so that she had found herself subtly pressing on him to get married, eager to have him forever with her. It was a feeling of certainty she wasn’t willing to let go of. It was a treasure she wanted to protect. And she didn’t really care about grand gestures, about big declarations. As far as she was concerned, she could find a ring on her nightstand and they could be married in secret. Nikolai knew that, always seemed to know exactly what kind of attention she needed. He left her his little wire boats everywhere to be found, he concocted small and useless inventions just for the sake of amusing her. He placed hidden notes and drawings in her drawers or under her pillows. He courted her in a way she had never been courted before, dedicating his clever mind to making her feel loved and safe - a task in which he was succeeding brilliantly.

But the privateer in him came out every now and then. Apart from the flirting, which she could admit she had been enjoying, he had picked up the unnerving habit of pretending to be about to propose to her in the middle of all sorts of gatherings. The first time he had sank down on one knee had been during one of their evenings with the rest of their friends. Everyone had drawn a sharp breath, falling silent and still. But the idiot had simply picked up one of her earrings that had fallen on the floor, winking at her while she narrowed her eyes at him from the upside down. Then he got bolder and bolder. The next time, he had clanked his glass at the end of a state dinner, saying he had a declaration to make for his queen. Zoya had glared at him from her seat, shifting uncomfortably, praying to all the Saints for him to shut up. But the worst had been during the ball they threw last week in honour of some Saint or occurrence she could not even remember. They were dancing, spinning around the ballroom. Nikolai was indeed a very gifted dancer, so she usually let him guide her. It was a strange feeling, the safety of being carried by his arms.

“Your hand is nowhere near the level of propriety, Nikolai”, she had whispered with a playful look, noting the fire on her skin as he had brushed her lower back.

He had smirked. “Let them envy me. I’m dancing with the most gorgeous woman in the room.”

“The one that’s going to step on your foot if you don’t behave yourself.”

Nikolai had nudged her closer, skimming his lips on her jaw. “Want to give them something else to watch?” And then, without preamble, he had kneeled in front of her, right in the middle of the ballroom, holding one of her hands in his. The music had stopped, the room had been filled with ecstatic murmurs. Zoya had caught Genya giggling on the other side of the room, but she could only hear her heart thrumming in her chest.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

One beat had passed. Two beats, and that delicious grin of his had erupted on Nikolai’s face. He had cleared his throat and turned to the people assembled around them.

“Pardon me for the interruption, but I believe it’s time for the Queen to give her speech!” He had joyfully declared, getting back up on his feet. She had looped her arm on his, seething under her breath.

“I am going to smite you where you stand.”

From that moment on, every time he had tried to garner the attention in public endeavours, she had been terrified to see him cause another scene. Deep down, Zoya knew he was not going to ask her like this. He was way too much of a romantic soul to do this. Sure enough though, he was immensely enjoying himself. She supposed she could let him have his fun. As long as she was his, and he was hers, she didn’t really care how many times he would embarrass her. There was nothing on earth that could compare to the feeling of seeing him beaming with happiness. Not even the dragon, in all his lifetimes, had known a warmth like this. Zoya loved him enough to let him have his way at times.

The creak of the garden door distracted her from her thoughts. Finally, Nikolai stopped. She heard him move behind her and place his hands on her hips, while his lips brushed on the skin of her neck.

“You can look now.”

He murmured against her skin. Was she imagining the slight tremble of emotion in his voice? He sounded thrilled, nervous. Slowly, she pulled the cloth from her eyes, caught back by the light that was flooding the place. Whatever she had thought she was going to see, it was nothing compared to what Nikolai had built. The breath was knocked out of her lungs, the beating of her heart racing up like it was about to take flight. It was her garden, but it was so much more. The structure Nikolai had designed was an engineering marvel of glass and wrought iron, twisting toward the sky, looking like the dome of a chapel. A perfect combination of his brilliance and a most expert Fabrikator’s craft. The whole building was transparent; Zoya could see the sky beyond, the clouds, the ray of sun warming up the place and shattering through the glass in a rainbow of colours. The flowers hadn’t been touched; new pots had been placed, new space to fill. The thorn wood still ran on the sides, around the bricks and the lanterns. But the wall had been painted with every sort of wonder; there was a dragon roaring through the sky, a ship that looked like the Volkvolny sealing a storm-swept sea, with a two-star flag added to Sturmhond’s one. A fox emerged from the bushes on the wall nearer to the door. The Grisha colours and symbols were all over the place, a flash of blue, red, and purple blossoms; waves, fire and lightnings ran throughout the murals.

“Alina painted them.”

Explained Nikolai, whispering softly when he noticed she was looking at the walls. Zoya took two steps in front of her, tilting her head up. There weren’t words she possessed right enough for this moment, none of the languages she knew was fit to describe this. The wrought iron was shaped like quince and gusts of wind that towered over the place in a million branches, spreading on the lines of the glass dome.

“Every panel of glass can be opened in the summer. They’re closed now, so that the heat stays in and the flowers can blossom in every season.”

Nikolai’s voice was still soft, still stumbling a little, like he was holding his breath to wait for her reaction. He had poured all of himself into this extraordinary building. This is what love does. If only Lilyiana could see her now. If she could see what she had found. Let love pour through, my little girl. Let your golden hero carry you home. You are safe. Zoya was shaking. Breathing was hard. She turned to him, feeling a suspicious prickle behind her eyes. Nikolai had once again got down on his knee amidst her wildflowers; she caught the sparkle of a jewel in his hand. Zoya smiled, too stricken with emotions to concentrate on anything that wasn't him.

“I hope it’s the last time you kneel to me.” Zoya tried to muster some wit, but her voice came out croaked, her throat sore. Nikolai was undoing her.

“Do shut up, Your Highness. I believe it’s my turn to speak.” The too-clever fox smirked, a clear and expectant look in his gleaming hazel eyes. “I had a speech - honestly it’s hard to remember it right now.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been wanting you for so long, and I’ve been believing for so long that there wasn’t a future for us, that it seemed impossible to have this.”

He opened his mouth again, clearly about to correct himself, but Zoya was quicker. “Improbable”, she added, unable to restrain herself. Another smirk curled his lips.

“Improbable”, he conceded, immensely satisfied that she had picked up on his favourite line. “I know I’ve kept you waiting. I would have asked the first time you kissed me. I would have asked that night in the cargo hold. But I said something else that night, something I wanted to live up to.”

Zoya watched him carefully, trying to see through him, to wrap her head around what was happening. She felt like her heart was about to burst in her chest.

“There were things I wanted to do before asking you. I wanted to gift you something ill-suited for war, something precious. That’s why I built this.” He gestured to the structure around them. “Because your garden need not be just a monument to grief anymore, but one to life. To the way you make everything around you blossom.” Nikolai paused, his gaze intense and fierce on her. “And then there were other things I told you I would have done for you, once I could.”

“You wanted to give me a crown.” Zoya said, with surprise in her voice. She had started to figure out where he was going with this, had started to grasp his words from the memory of that night, carved inside her.

“That was the first thing. I believe it worked splendidly. What else did I tell you?”

“You wanted to show me the world from the prow of your ship.”

She brought her fingers to her lips, as if she could not believe her own realization. Her voice was trembling too, now. She remembered. She remembered when Nikolai had insisted they took a couple of days at sea, during their mission in Os Kervo. Zoya knew Nikolai wanted to travel with her, but they simply had not had the time to do it properly. Zoya had promised him they would, someday, when peace was secured. Nikolai had pressed her on that trip to sail on the Volkvolny, even for a little while. She had not questioned him, thought he was only being nonsensical as usual and had obliged him. He had told her something, on the railing of the ship, as the sun was setting in front of them. That’s why I like the sea, he had said to her, because when you look out at the horizon, you see everything beyond. Look, Zoya. You can see the whole world from here. It’s all ours for the taking. She had laughed, tilting her head to the sun. You gave me Ravka, Nikolai. It’s enough for me. She had been wrong. Nikolai had not just given her Ravka. Here, in the silence of her garden, she knew he was giving her so much more.

“And then there was one last thing.” Nikolai encouraged her. Zoya drew a sharp breath, catching the ring in his hand into focus.

“You wanted to give me a sapphire, the size of an acorn.”

Nikolai took her hand and placed the ring in it. The band was made of white gold, in the shape of a dragon curled around itself. Between its tail and its head, it held a glowing sapphire, the colour of a midnight sky. She peered at him under her lashes, too overwhelmed to say anything. His hands were shivering.

“I know it’s not the size of an acorn. We are still slightly broke, and, well - I thought you would have liked it better like this. It’s more elegant, it suits you more.”

Silence enveloped them. Zoya felt his warm uneven breathing on her skin, his nervousness, the sheer truth and love behind his actions taking her like a tide, filling the well inside her that had once protected her grief and caged her heart.

“I wanted you to understand that I’ll always be true to my promises. I don’t know when I started loving you, but I know I’m lost now. I searched for you for a lifetime. I still want you all the time. I want to lay beside you every night, wake up with you in my arms every morning. I want to build the future with you, I want to watch you scowl at people and be the brave and ruthless leader you are.” Nikolai inhaled a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. “You've been my general. You are my friend, the woman I love. I would have chosen you before, I would now and I always will. Would you do me the honour of being my wife?”

Zoya didn’t try to hold back the tears. It didn’t matter. It didn’t because she had never felt safer in her life than she was feeling now, held in the dome that protected her garden, in the hands of the man that had always protected her. What he was telling her now, it had an echo to so many other things he had told her in the past, scattered throughout the moments they had shared. It told the story of how they took care of each other for so long, of their longing, of their strength. How they had found each other at last. She gently kneeled in front of him, folding her hand over the one that was holding the ring. All around them, the flowers had sprouted, their scent clouding them. She placed the other hand on his cheek, locking their eyes together. It took all her might to find her voice within the emotions swimming in her chest. Zoya had never been sentimental like him. She had never tried to be, maybe she could never be. Yet, she wanted him to know now; to know even a fraction of how much her love for him ran deep in her veins.

“You made me believe that impossible really is just a word.” She tried, wavering, gaining more confidence with each word she brought out. “You made me believe again, Nikolai. You are the hero of every story I have ever heard. And yes, I’ll marry you.”

He opened in an astonishing expression of relief, leaning in her touch. Nikolai slipped the ring on her finger, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“Turns out you can be romantic too, when you want to.” He teased, getting up and bringing her with him, circling her in his arms. As she leaned on his chest, she heard the rhythmic pounding of his heart, quick as the flapping of a bird’s wings.

“It’s hardly a match between the two of us. I know how much you enjoy it, so I let you take all the credit.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Does this mean you’ll stop kneeling in front of crowds?”

“I think so. I will not stop with the flirting, though. It’s a compulsion.”

Zoya went on her toes to press a kiss on his mouth.

“Do keep up with that. I like it.”

She tucked her hand into his pocket, closing her fingers on the blue ribbon he kept on him all the time. Zoya pulled it out, unfurling it in front of them.

“I believe I’ll need this for the wedding day.”

The smile that lightened up his face was worth a thousand wars to wage. A thousand years to wait.

***

To say that the wedding was grand, would have been an understatement. Genya had outdid herself, both with the decorations and the dress. If Zoya had thought she had made a great work with the coronation, what she had managed to create on this day put everything else to shame. Zoya didn’t remember much of it. It had been a whirlwind of colours and voices, people kissing her hand and offering their congratulations, dancing, and music and mostly a lot of drinking on their part. The ceremony had been long and complicated, but as usual, Nikolai had made everything more bearable. Somehow, he had managed to make her feel like they were the only two people standing in the chapel, the same one that held such awful memories and was now a place of celebration.

She had chosen not to wear gold, and they all went with it. Once had been enough; silver was more fitting for a dragon queen that commanded the storm. Being a queen had its advantages in terms of breaking with traditions. Nikolai had walked the aisle with her; he had never left her side, he had never left the grip on her hand. Zoya could feel his intense desire to make this day joyful for her. She would never stop marvelling at his selflessness, at how good and pure his heart was. To her surprise, he had chosen to relent the traditional Ravkan wedding vows in favour of the ones spoken by Grisha. They applied a lot more to them than any other oath they could make.

We are soldiers. I will march with you in times of war. I will rest with you in times of peace. I will forever be the weapon in your hand, the fighter at your side, the friend who awaits your return. I have seen your face in the making at the heart of the world and there is no one more fierce, passionate, and unbreakable.

There was not much else to say; everything they needed to tell each other, they had already done in the quiet of their intimacy. Everything they needed to share about what it meant to have each other, they already knew. But Nikolai had added something, lowering his voice to a whisper, only for her to hear.

I will always seek to make it summer for you.

He had spoken the words in Suli. A ridiculous Suli, with an accent as thick as Zoya’s one and probably quite the number of mistakes. Zoya didn’t care. She didn’t know much Suli either, but she had understood. She had felt the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him senseless, all these people be damned. Instead, she had murmured her answer to him, searching in her childhood for the words, hoping his knowledge of the language was broader than hers.

You are my endless summer.

Nikolai’s eyes had sparkled, his lips trembled when he had kissed her, knocking her off his feet, and she knew he had understood too. The first half of the party had been slightly tedious. Her dress was heavy, the crown hitched on her head. But as the night went on and the brandy had started to flow, she had found she was enjoying herself much more than she thought. Nikolai’s presence glowed in the room, equally as handsome as her. It was well past midnight when people had started retiring, saying their goodbyes to the newly wed royal couple.

At last, they found themselves alone at a table with all their friends. Tolya was astoundingly drunk, much to their amusement. He was trying to convince Adrik to stand on a chair and recite some poetry with him. Adrik, who was incredibly smiling, seated next to Leoni who wore her usual thousand sun merry expression. Adrik had taken Zoya’s position in the Triumvirate, while Leoni held the post for the Materialki now. She and Genya were deep in an argument about some sort of poison used to make people sleepwalk. Genya was laughing, her head thrown back, a glass of honey tea in her hand. Seeing her happy was a sight for sore eyes. Zoya knew they were all missing David more tonight; her eyes wandered on her friend’s kefta, which stood a little too tight around her stomach. The bump was starting to show clearly right now, four months into the pregnancy. She was beaming. It takes a village, people said about raising a child. This child would definitely never be alone. Alina and Mal had retired earlier, eager to return to their kids. She had held Alina in an embrace a little longer than usual, trying to convey how wonderful her gift to Zoya had been, how much comfort the paintings in her garden would bring. In the middle of the room, Tamar and Nadia were still dancing, or trying to at least, missing every rhythm of the music. Tamar stopped abruptly when she saw Zoya watching them.

“I can’t believe you two pulled it off, at last!” She made a toast in their direction, making Nadia stumble.

“I can’t believe Nikolai pulled it off”, Genya smirked, toasting back to Tamar with her tea.

Nikolai shrugged his shoulders. “I’m known for always choosing the hardest quest.”

There was little hope to ever make them stop with the teasing. Turning her gaze, Zoya caught sight of Nina and her prince, who had traveled all the way from Fjerda to be here tonight. Nina was stunning as usual, in a dress that hugged every curve of her, stacking on a pile of pastries and forcing Hanne to taste each and every one of them. The reckless Heartrender didn’t miss the chance to weigh in on the conversation, popping a pastry in her mouth. “And to think Zoya was the one to bash me about falling in love with Fjerdans. It backfired right in your face.”

Zoya clicked her tongue. “At least I take care not to let people walk in on us having a private moment.”

“That’s on you”, Nina grinned, “But I guess now you know that the thing about Fjerdans being cold it’s just a myth.”

“Definitely a myth", confirmed Nikolai, winking at Nina. Leave it to the two of them to be inappropriate.

Tolya downed another glass of whisky. For a giant, he didn’t have a good resistance to alcohol. “Good luck Zoya, he’s all yours to suffer now.” He managed to mutter. “At least he’s not moping around about you anymore like a lost puppy.” Tolya, the most respectful soldier she knew. He really was drunk.

“I’ll still mop around about her, don’t worry.”

“I can manage, I think", Zoya answered to Tolya, curling her lips.

She sighed happily, tightening the hold on Nikolai’s hand next to her, while she watched the people who were now her family filling the air with their laughter. He put the glass down, gazing at her with amusement. His golden hair were ruffled, his elegant shirt crumpled, his skin heated. His eyes were filled with awe, a smile dancing on his lips. She felt her breath itch at the sight of him. Nikolai leaned closer to her, bringing her hand up to his mouth. His look turned soft, affectionate.

“You survived today wonderfully.”

Zoya fell silent, watching her golden boy. This is what love does. You fight for it, and it saves you. You build it, brick by brick, and it stays. The dragon spread his wings inside her.

“You built me a home.”

She told him, and cocked her head to the side, making some strands of hair fall from the elaborate updo Genya had weaved. Nikolai rushed to tuck them back into the ribbon that held them in place, the one she had taken from his pocket when he had proposed.

“You gave me something to build it for. Someone to fill it with.”

Zoya knew, in that moment. She knew that every blow, every pain, every loneliness she had endured had been meant to take her here. It had been meant to make her worthy of him, to make her believe they could have this. She knew every loss and every battle had forged her so that she could let herself love him. And Nikolai made everything possible. The weight of his hand in hers felt sacred.

“We will go on, you and I. We are going to be fine.”

It wasn’t a question. It was the strongest belief she had ever had. It was hope. After an eternity of fighting and suffering, the stone tumbled inside her, coming to rest. Nikolai nodded, closing his eyes and sighing. The world felt easier. It felt warm, and sunny, full of his light.

“Yes, we are.”

And they would. For years to come, they would be fine.

263 notes · View notes

redspiderling · 3 years

Text

MCU Breakdown: Black Widow, Part 1

I can’t believe this is happening 😭

First of all, congratulations to all of you who’ve been here all these years. We got it. We begged for years, and it’s finally here.

For once I wasn't dreading revisiting this film to write down what I got from it. I felt more like I might not do it justice. This film is so special to me, but here it is, the MCU Breakdown of Black Widow, part 1 (of who knows how many).

I remember back when I started running this blog and talking about a hypothetical Black Widow movie that had never been announced, always "yeah, we would be happy to do it, maybe, someday in the future", and arguing that it would be important for women and girls, no matter its content. I'm so glad we got it like this. So, so glad.

The rest under the cut.

Let's start with some technical details. The film has a lot of setups and callbacks, nothing is done in chance. For example, I love how the light, and the sounds we hear when we first, and last, see Natasha in the film, are the same. We greet her in bright -birds cheeping- morning light, while she's riding her bike home, to her family

and we leave her in bright -birds cheeping- morning light, while she's riding her bike home, to her family (I'm using the term family very liberally here in reference to the Avengers for the sake of the movie, bear with me, you know how I feel about those dudes).

It's signifying new beginnings, each time, not endings. Notice how, what we see is natural light, which makes this scene pop out, and look more real because the light is coming from the sun, and isn’t artificially made on VFX software. You will notice the stark differences in colours and lighting when the emotions and the atmosphere change in this film, because there is a visual language being employed here, the director has a story to say, and she uses all the tools she has to tell it. The light is exactly the same in those 2 scenes, because Cate wants us to make that connection, even if we make it unconsciously.

Natasha is placed in such a positive way, both at the start and the end of the film. There's this discussion about how "real" their little family was, but it was the characters that muddled up that image. The reality of their lives in Ohio is presented in a happy way, that had deep rivers under the surface, for sure. This wasn't accidental, for a lot of reasons.

First of all, if you take it the literal way, they were spies, and had to present themselves as normal. If you take it the allegorical way, any girl could fall victim to trafficking, and if you take it the character way, both Scarlett and Cate wanted to showcase that Natasha is human. They also wanted to give her something that wasn't always dripping with pain and sadness. They were both parts of her life, yes, but there was also joy, and light, and once upon a time she had been a kid, playing with her sister.

Also, and this has been mentioned before but it bears repeating: I love the actress they chose for young Natasha, and I love how they presented her character. She's allowed to be a young teenage girl. She's not sexualised. She's at that gangly stage between childhood and adulthood, and there's nothing sexual about it, no provocative clothing, no excessive makeup. She's a kid.

Plus, I know Cate said the actress already had her hair dyed blue and they just decided to let her have it, but I think it works well for Natasha's character. That small act of defiance, even that early on, against the system that wanted to break her. Also, the film gives us such great character moments, because they let the camera roll and don't rush through scenes, look at Natasha looking at Melina comforting Yelena. We can see the pain, the fear, where she knows that this isn't going to last, and wonders about what will become of them once their lives begin to unravel.

We also get to see the joy on her face, the wonder of discovering the world, how often do you get to see Marvel characters do this, just live in the moment?

Bioluminescence: the production and emission of light by a living organism. Or how Natasha is a bright light, that shines from within. Not my words, Cate Shortland's words. I felt it when I was watching this scene, but it was lovely to have it verified in one of her interviews. I wish I could meet her, and tell her that everything she wanted to put on screen came through, incandescent and crystal clear. Fireflies are a symbol for Natasha, as a bright light that shines from within, and never dies.

Small details that I love, the magnet on the fridge: Don't forget, above a picture of Natasha. LIKE WE EVER COULD, CATE.

We have another setup here, where the family gathers up to have dinner together. Even the sitting arrangement is the same as later on in the film.

Notice also how both young, and adult version of Natasha, communicate so well with Melina, just with their eyes. It doesn't necessary show a deep history between them, but it does show a bone deep level of understanding. Not just of their current circumstance, but of their future, and of what it will do to them. Melina knows what's coming and she's says it "I'm sorry", but they're both resigned to their fate, Melina because she doesn't see a way out, and Natasha because, well, here she's a kid, and therefore is powerless.

The dynamics between Yelena and Alexei is so different. Yelena is young and doesn't understand, so they're speaking about completely different things. "I don't have my shoes" is what she says, and it's heartbreaking in its innocence, as Alexei is loading his gun and reading himself for battle. We can still see that he's not indifferent to her, telling her she can have "fruit loops in the car". He's not a monster, he just doesn't have a choice (or at least, he thinks he doesn't).

Also, notice how the camera angles are employed here: Natasha and Melina look each other eye to eye, Yelena looks up to Alexei, Alexei looks down on her, there is an imbalance of power and understanding in the second set of images, and the camera tells us that.

Melina doesn't let Natasha take the photo album. For one thing, it's certain that Natasha wouldn't be able to keep it. For another, Melina wanted the memories, and probably didn't want anyone else to realise/think that they cared about their little family unit.

There's just a lot of thought that's been put in the details of the script, to show us their bond, their attempts to hide it, to show the characters' personality in everything around them (notice the plants that are ever present in Melina's home, in Ohio and later in Saint Petersburg). She might seem cold, she has been through a lot, but she cares. And that care has brought her pain. And we have to see that pain, because we get the quiet moments like this one, where she stands alone in an empty home knowing that part of her life is over, never to return.

The mission, is the last thing Melina asks about. The last thing Alexei mentions, the last thing either of them cares about. First, she refused to accept that they had completed the mission and were now hunted, then she accepted it and they loaded their family in the car, and then she asked about the leaked files.

Also, notice how that shot is framed. Both images silhouetted by the light because it’s the moment and the prop smack down in the middle of the frame that’s important, now what they’re going through, emotionally, they’re not themselves in that moment, they’re nameless, tools of the trade, expendable in front of that tiny floppy disk.

Yelena is singing while the rest are plunging in despair, but still humour her and play her song.

I found this shot a bit... Jarring. I get it that for American audiences this would show that they're actually leaving "home" behind, but for the rest of us... Eeeh, I'll give it a pass because it is an American production and this is just something to be expected. I mean, Yelena's song was American Pie. We get it, you still love America, just because you're making a film about Russian spies doesn't mean you're a commie Marvel, it's ok.

But in any case, the setup for the action scene here was excellent. Happy, familiar music playing, car is on the main road, car goes off the main road familiar music gets toned down and eventually completely lost in the darkness.

Yelena knows what to do, we see it, so that we know that this 6 year old girl who holds her stuffed animal and walks barefoot has practiced for this moment.

By the way, Natasha did take another item with her along with the photobooth pictures (it also looks like a photo album with Disney princesses on it), it didn't survive the trip. We are informed of this for a very specific reason: Melina didn’t ask Natasha not to take the photo album out of malice, or just because she wanted to keep it for herself. She knew it wouldn’t survive the trip in Natasha’s hands. We also get a close shot of the image strip (and we get it again, during the credits), because it will be important, later on.

Bet y'all also forgot you were watching a superhero movie until this happened? That wasn't accidental, they wanted us to see them as normal people, this is the moment when that ends.

Natasha saved her family, even though she was a terrified kid.

I know that they did the huge titles thing to connect this film to Civil War but... Listen, Civil War needed the huge titles because that script and the way that movie was directed was a complete disaster. We needed to know where the characters were each time with huge ass title because there was NO OTHER WAY TO TELL. Between complete lack of a timeline, and the fact that you couldn't even tell what time of the day it was due to the horrible lighting, you definitely couldn't tell what the location was because it was irrelevant to the plot like, 90% of the time. Not to mention the title cards in Civil War were usually followed by dimly lit grey corridors so, yeah, give us a title so we know at least where they are, generally.

This film. Didn't Need That. For the most part anyway, there are 2 locations where the titles worked. First one was Ohio, the other I'll reveal later.

But here. Guys, they're Russian spies escaping from the US on a small plane... Where else would they go if not to Cuba?!?! This is the Black Widow movie paying for the sins of Civil War, in a small way in this instance.

Yelena tells Melina that pain only makes you stronger, Natasha cries, and they setup my heartbreak for later.

Natasha protecting Yelena, terrified, and staring men down the barrel of her gun anyway. Such a badass and heartbreaking callback.

Notice how this scene makes us look at how men view this. There's an allegory here as well, but I'll address what's actually happening in the film:

Dreykov notices Natasha's natural instinct to protect herself and her sister, and all he sees is something he can use. A tool for violence, instead of sex, in this case. But the implication is there. Not a person, or a terrified girl, just an object to be used by men.

So glad that piece of shit got blown up and never mentioned again. Any man looking for exposition on Dreykov to feel the "loss" when the villain is gone: Fuck you. Go get some therapy.

Moving on from that piece of shit, difference between Melina and Alexei: Melina apologised. Alexei lied, but he also tried to give them hope. We can see the devastation, because the soldiers never thought of them as girls like he did, and didn't blink before drugging them and taking them away.

Yet another setup, of Natasha and Yelena, drugged and powerless as they are taken away. Because it wasn't enough that they were kids, they took away all their choices, and rendered them unconscious.

What can I possibly say about this credits scene.

It's very real, probably the realest minutes in the entire MCU, and it's merciless. They don't try to sugar-coat what's happening, and there are no jokes to diffuse the drama. These are girls being trafficked from all over the world. I don't know about you but I felt the switch from true parallel to real life traffic victims like this shot that looks like footage from Interpol

to Red Room victims as being a clear shift, and I was actually grateful for it. Because here I could put my back against the fact that the red room wasn't real, otherwise I would have broken down before the credit sequence even ended.

It was a stroke of genius to create an introduction to this entire world like that. We rarely see credit sequences anymore and it's a shame, because when they're well done they tell stories in and of themselves, and this is one of the best I've seen.

Even the villain is set up here. He's pointing at girls and saying "that one, and her", like he's picking pigs for slaughter. How much more setup than that do you need, to want to murder that man dead? Not any more, that was enough.

Nobody speak to me I’m crying.

Subtle, but there. Trafficking (and traffickers) exists because it IS being tolerated by governments around the world.

Unnecessary title aside, who else says Natasha looks at herself in the mirror hear and repeats "pain only makes you stronger", as she's being hunted away from yet another family.

Then she's saying it again because it bears repeating and Natasha has been through A Lot these past few years. I love how unfiltered our first image of her is. After all she's been through, we basically see her stripped of all her tricks in a moment where she’s alone with herself and her thoughts(something we later learn she tries not to do much), and she's just a woman having a tiny breakdown in a semi-public bathroom. Again, human.

This is where I will leave you for this first part. Hey, I got through the intro, I count that as a win given just how long this breakdown has already been. If you’ve gotten this far, thank you for reading, come yell at me in my inbox whenever, see you for the next one xo

#MCU Breakdown #Black Widow #Black Widow Spoilers #Natasha Romanoff #I'd like to think that all my followers have already seen it but just in case

100 notes · View notes

atlafan · 4 years

Text

The Tutor - Part Three

a/n: alright, I think I have these two out of my system now. hope you enjoy! feedback is always appreciated, as well as reblogs!

Part One Part Two

Warnings: fluff, SMUT, slight angst, slight spitting, partying, alcohol consumption.

Words: 18.6K

After spending like what felt a week in bed together, the spring semester officially began. Y/N was in a stage of just feeling giddy from how good Harry made her feel. Now that they had been together for a few months, she felt totally comfortable with him. She would often sleep naked, or lounge around in just her underwear she knew they would be alone for a while. Harry didn’t mind one bit. He liked how cute and sweet Y/N was, and he loved being loved on by her.

When she walks into their Art of Film class she scoffs when she sees him sitting in the second row. She walks right up to him and rolls her eyes.

“We are not sitting this close up.” She shakes her head.

“I like sitting closer, Y/N.”

“But if we’re going to be watching movies, then we should sit in the back.”

“This isn’t even a stadium style classroom, so that doesn’t make any sense. If you wanna sit in the back then be my guest, but this is where I like to sit.”

Y/N sighs heavily and sits down next to him. She didn’t like sitting up front in class, it just meant she would be called on more and she didn’t much feel like participating to the extreme in just a gen ed. She liked to save her energy for her major courses.

“You’re a little too studious sometimes, you know that?”

“Y/N.” He hums warningly and side eyes her. “Are you going to be able to handle sitting next to me? Or is this going to be an issue?”

“Golly gee, professor, I don’t know, maybe I should come to your office hours later to discuss it.” She smirks at him and he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be mean.” He pouts. “I have a tough time concentrating in the back sometimes, so sitting up front is better for me. We’re in the second row at least.”

“I suppose that’s true.” She sighs.

Other students fill in. Billy from senate is in the class as well, and sits behind Harry. Y/N gives him a smile as well. The professor walks in, and sets his bag down on the desk. He gets his computer hooked up to the tech station so he can use the projector.

“God, please don’t tell me we’re going to watch Fight Club and Pulp Fiction.” Y/N groans.

“I didn’t see those on the syllabus.” Harry says, taking a few papers out. “Actually, a lot of the films we’re going to watch were directed by women, or have strong female casts.”

“You…already printed the syllabus?”

“Yeah, it’s what I did after I sent you home last night. I did it for all of my classes.”

“Good morning everyone, I’m Professor Robinson, feel free to call me Eric.” He smiles. “I’m really excited about this course, it’s one of my favorites to teach. We’re going to watch some great films, and learn about what goes into making them. I hope you all will get the book needed for class. It’s a little dense, but I promise I’ll be able to explain it in ways for you to understand.” He starts to go over the syllabus a bit. “One of the first films we’re going to be watching is Baby Face, it came out in 1933, and is considered a drama and a noir. This came out right at the beginning of when the Hays Code was being introduced, so we’ll be comparing this to Double Indemnity, which came out in 1944, another Barbara Stanwyck film. You’ll be able to see how differently the films were made, and even the difference in how female characters were treated. We’ll go over the Hays Code as well, but these two films will be great starting points. Now, you may have noticed that Wednesday evenings were put on your schedules from 7-9PM. These are optional meeting times. I will be showing the films here during this time, or you can watch them on your own. Whatever’s easier.” He smiles and continues on.

Y/N was captivated. She wasn’t sure what to expect from the course, and even though they would be watching a few black and white films in the beginning, the subject matter actually interested her.

“Alright, now, I hate doing the normal ice breakers where we all state our names, our majors, and a fun fact, and I know you all have made claim to your seats, so, turn to the person next to you, introduce yourself and talk about what you look for in a film when you go to the theater.”

Harry and Y/N look at each other and smile. Harry extends his hand out to her and she giggles as he shakes it.

“You’re so silly! Okay, when I go to the movies, like, if I’m going to pay to see a movie, I want to know that I’m going to laugh and not be bored. Like, I know it’s a good movie if I don’t check my phone the entire time. I like when the beginning is easy to follow along so I’m not confused.”

“Same here. I sort of like being sucked into another world, like, escape for a little bit. I feel like when I go to the movies, it’s one of the few times I don’t need to think too much about anything. It’s when I feel my least anxious.”

“Okay!” Eric says. “Glad you all could get to know each other a bit. I think we can end class a little early. Please make sure to check out the moodle page, there is a forum post do before Wednesday, and make sure you have Baby Face watched by next Monday. Thanks everyone!”

“This is going to be a fun class.” Y/N says to Harry as they walk out together.

“I think so too.” He kisses her cheek. “Where are you headed next? I have stats.”

“I’m heading to my Macroeconomics class, and then I have Organizational Communication, then I’m done for the day.”

“Alright, and then I’ll assume you have lifting?”

“Mhm.” She grins at him and pulls him aside.

“What?”

“Your birthday is this Friday.”

“Is it?” He pretends. “Had no idea.”

“Well, I hope you know I have a lot planned.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup, you’re going to be spoiled rotten, babe.” She gets on her tip toes to kiss him. “I gotta go, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.” He chuckles as he heads upstairs to his stats class.

Y/N and Harry decide to be good sports Wednesday night and go to the formal viewing of Baby Face for their class. Most of the class actually showed up, so it made it more fun to watch. There was a scene where a man put his hand on Barbara’s knee, and she poured hot coffee on him without skipping a beat. Y/N loved her. She climbed her way up to the top by manipulating men, just as the men her life when she was younger had tried to manipulate her.

“I loved that movie!” Y/N exclaims as they leave the academic building. “She was so badass, taking no one’s shit.”

“Yeah, I really liked it too.” He yawns. “Christ, I’m tired.” He leads her in the direction of her apartment.

“Did I tell you me, Gina, Amanda, and Becca all signed a lease for an off campus place next year? We’re really excited.”

“That’s great! We’re all staying in the same apartment, which I’m happy about. It’s the perfect spot.” Harry walks Y/N up to her door and she looks confused when he stays outside. “M’gonna go back to my place, it’s late and I have an 8AM tomorrow…”

“Oh…alright.” She wraps her arms around his neck, and his go around her waist. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“Anytime, baby.”

They stand outside kissing for a while before he detaches himself from her. They both giggle and say goodnight before she goes inside. Louis and Niall were in the living room when Harry gets back, and he flops down onto the couch with them.

“Hey, mate, how was the movie?” Louis asks.

“Not too bad, actually. We both enjoyed it. I don’t think I’ll have the energy to go every Wednesday night, though. I’m pooped.”

“Did you go to the gym this morning?” Niall asks.

“Yeah, went for my usual run. Forgot how tiring going to classes all day were. Sort of miss just working in the law office.”

“I’m surprised Y/N isn’t with you.” Louis says.

“Nah, I walked her home and told her I wanted to come back here. I can’t get into the habit of having a lot of sleepovers during the week.” He hoists himself to his feet. “Well, I’m off to bed, goodnight.”

“Night, mate.” Niall and Louis say.

Harry gets cozy in bed, and then groans to himself when his boxers become uncomfortably tight. He rolls his eyes at himself. Did he have to press up against Y/N while they were making out earlier? Of course he was fucking did, and now he was too riled up to fall asleep. He wondered if the same thing ever happened to her.

Harry: can’t sleep

Y/N: thought you were exhausted

Harry: I was, but now I can’t stop thinking about you

Y/N: me or my parts, lmao

Harry: YOU

Y/N: not much I can do to help you from all the way over here…

Harry: picture???

Y/N: Harry!

Harry: you sent a ton over break!

Y/N: that was different

Harry: please??

Y/N: fine, I’ll send you a snap, gimme a minute

Y/N rips her blankets off her body, unsure of what sort of picture he was hoping for. She gets up and strips herself of her bed-shirt, and takes a mirror selfie, careful to hide most of her face, just in case, and sends it to him on snapchat. Harry was already stroking himself in anticipation. He grins ear to ear when he sees the notification pop up on his phone, and opens it immediately.

“Oh, fuck me.” He groans when he sees her naked body on display for him. She had squeezed one of her breasts, and he could just make out her biting her bottom lip. He knew she didn’t really like receiving nudes, even if it was from him, so he sends her back a pouty selfie telling her how fucking beautiful she was.

Y/N: you did this to yourself, you could have come up

Harry: I was trying to be good

Y/N: look at you now, giving yourself a hand job

Harry: don’t be mean…would you send another?

Y/N: yeah, hold on

She sends him a snap of her breasts pushed together, and that does it for him. He bites down on his knuckle while come gets on his other fist and lower belly. He gives himself a minute before cleaning himself up and laying back in bed.

Harry: thank you baby

Y/N: you realize you owe me

Harry: I’ll give you anything you want, you know that

Y/N: love you, goodnight

Harry: love you too, sweet dreams

He sighs happily as his eyes flutter closed. Y/N rolls her eyes and smirks to herself. Sometimes these moments were gentle reminders that even though Harry was a little more “woke” than most guys, he was still your average college guy. He wanted nudes from his girlfriend, and he wanted to sext even though he easily could have just come inside. She wasn’t annoyed her anything, and she didn’t want to be with his birthday so close. However, now she was left there, aroused at the idea of him simply getting off to a couple of pictures of her. She figures if he could do that, then she could do the same. She told him about most of her winter break, but what she hadn’t told him was about her new little friend. The girls had all gone to a sex shop, and she bought a little bullet vibrator. Y/N gets up and goes into her closet to use it. If he didn’t want to come in to satisfy her, she had other ways of getting around it.

Thursdays were days Y/N could meet up with Harry for lunch, so she happily goes to see him at the dining hall. She smiles and sits down with her food. He had his laptop out, typing away at something.

“How could you possibly already have something so important to do?” She sighs.

“Student senate stuff.” He says and then closes his laptop. “Thanks for your help last night.” He smirks and then kisses her cheek.

“You’re welcome.” She sips on his drink.

“Are you excited for your game tonight?”

“Mhm.”

“Are you upset with me?”

“No, why would I be?”

“You seem a little annoyed with me…”

“Not at all, Har.” She shrugs. “I just think that if you wanted to fuck me, you could have come inside.”

“I didn’t feel like spending the night.”

“I’ve told you before that you don’t need to.”

“You say that, but then you give me this look, and then I feel guilty…so I just don’t come in at all. It’s easier.”

“Mm, and then you get to conveniently rub one out.”

“Are you upset that I asked you to send me pictures?”

“No, I suppose it’s flattering. I just think I make things a little too easy for you sometimes. It’s not exactly easy for me to get off on my own, you know?”

“Aw, did I leave you hanging?” He genuinely felt bad.

“Nope, took care of it myself. Don’t exactly need you, do I?” She grins. “Made my back arch off the bed all by myself, no help from you whatsoever.” She bites into her sandwich, and looks innocently as his grimacing face. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re being mean. What are you saying, I don’t make you feel good anymore?”

“No, you make me feel plenty good. But I know a thing or two now, so don’t you worry about not wanting to come up and fuck me because I can handle it all on my own. In fact, let’s be like an old married couple who have sex nights and just do it once a week. That could be fun.”

“You are annoyed with me.”

“I’m not.” She leans closer to him so no one around can hear. “I just don’t want to be your personal porn star when you can’t fall asleep at night.”

“That’s not what I…” He sucks his teeth. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, you’re right. It was a little selfish, I’m sorry.” He pouts at her and hides his face in her neck. “Love you so much.” He kisses on her neck slowly, and she sighs.

“It’s okay.” She rubs his back. She really couldn’t stay upset with him when he was like this. He was just too cute. “I love you too.”

He sits up straight and pecks her lips before eating more of his food.

“I can hang out tonight if you want, no Friday classes this semester.”

“Me neither! Although, I’ll still have practice tomorrow morning. I’ll think about it. Maybe you could come to dinner after the game?”

“I’d love to.”

The girls ended up losing, so there was no community dinner down town, and Y/N was in too sour of a mood to have alone time with Harry, which he understood. Tomorrow was his birthday, so she’d rather start fresh with him when she was in a better mood.

“Shh.”

Harry’s eyes flutter open around nine. He usually never sleeps this “late”, but his alarm didn’t go off for some reason. His eyes snap open when he sees, Y/N, Niall, and Louis all creeping into his room. They were holding balloons and streamers and confetti.

“Happy birthday!” They all scream and dog pile on Harry. He laughs hysterically.

“Okay, okay!” He yelps. “Can’t breathe!”

The boys both get off the bed, but Y/N stays straddling him.

“Right, well, we’ll be whipping up some brekkie downstairs.” Louis says with a wink as he and Niall leave the room.

Y/N gets up quickly to lock the door and then she gets right back on top of Harry. His hands grip her hips tightly.

“What a nice surprise.” He smiles up at her. “Do you mind if I go brush my teeth and all that? Just woke up, you know.”

“You know what’s funny? With all of the excitement this morning, I forgot to take a shower.” Harry’s eyes grow wide at her. “What do you say, Har?” She says lowly.

“They’re home…”

“They’ll be busy making what I asked them to, and they’ve been told not to come upstairs. They just want you to have a good birthday, and so do I.”

“Do you even have anything with you?”

“Yeah, my bag’s right over there.” She points to it. “So…”

“Alright, yeah, let’s go take a shower.” He says excitedly.

Harry brushes his teeth while Y/N gets her hair up in a bun so it won’t get wet.

“Did you shower after practice?”

“I rinsed very quickly, not the same thing.” She takes her clothes off and presses her body against Harry’s. “This is much better.”

“I agree.”

He pulls the curtain back and helps her in. They both giggle as the water hits his back, and she wraps her arms around his neck. His hands slide down to her ass and he squeezes her. He licks into her mouth, and she happily glides her tongue along his. She bites his bottom lip and steps back, grabbing at his body wash.

“Which scrubbie is yours?”

“Oh, I just use these.” He holds up two gloves that are made from exfoliating rags. “They work much better and they’re more sanitary.”

“Learn something new about you every day, Har.” She grabs the gloves and puts them on, and squeezes the body wash onto them. “Turn around, gonna getcha all clean.”

“Wow, I’m really being spoiled today.”

He turns around and nearly purrs at the feeling of her scrubbing his back. She turns him around so she can do the same to his front and arms. She peels the gloves off and rinses them out.

“Thanks, baby.” He smiles as the soap rinses off him.

“Want me to wash your hair too?” She asks shyly. “Grew my nails out for you.” She holds them up to show him and he his mouth forms in an “O”.

“Yes, please.”

She giggles and get his shampoo lathered into her hands, and he bends down a bit so she can properly scrub at his head. He moans softly as her nails scratch at his head. She massages his scalp a bit as well before helping him rinse it out. Once he’s all clean, she gets on her knees in front of him, and starts stroking him up and down.

“Is this what you wanted the other night?”

“Yes.” He grunts. “Are you sure you feel like doing this right now?”

“Mhm.” She hums before swirling her tongue around his tip.

Harry mindlessly grips at the tile on the wall while she bobs her head up and down on him. She swallows around him and plays with his balls, doing everything she knows he really likes.

“Baby, please, let me touch you.”

She looks up at him and he nearly loses it. He helps her stand up and he pushes her up against the wall, and she gasps with surprise at his abrupt forcefulness. His lips sponge at her neck and across her chest. One of his hands slides between her legs and her head rolls back against the tile.

“We’re wasting water.” She groans. “Let’s get out, and then we can play a little more.”

“You’re not just teasing?”

“No, babe.”

“Okay.”

They both get out, and get wrapped in towels. Harry smells the food from downstairs, and his stomach growls, but he soon forgets he’s hungry when he sees Y/N drop her towel and shake out her hair.

“Come and get me, birthday boy.”

He drops his towel and nearly tackles her onto his bed. He nips at her lips and works his way down her body, biting and sucking where he pleases. He just wanted his head between her legs. He spreads her apart, and licks a flat stripe up her center.

“Jesus.” She shivers from that alone, and slots her fingers through his hair.

He sucks harshly on her clit, and swirls his tongue around it, nibbling a little before sucking on it again. She moans out a little too loudly and she covers her mouth with her hand. She didn’t exactly want to put on a show for the boys downstairs. That all goes to hell when he licks into her. She props herself up on her elbows to watch him. He looks up at her while he fucks her with his tongue, and the eye contact is too much for the both of them, but they continue through any embarrassment they may feel.

“Oh my god.” She pants as her head rolls back. His mouth moves back to her clit, and two of his fingers slide inside her, twisting around as he pumps them in and out. “Harry, fuck, oh my god.”

He curls his fingers up as he gets in knuckle deep, and rubs them against her g-spot, as he continues to suck on her clit. He groans against her when he feels her tighten around him.

“Gonna come?”

“Yes, oh my fucking god, shit!” She cries out as she pulses and vibrates around him. He takes his fingers out and laps away at her as she comes down from her high.

“Ready for my cock?”

“Please.” She breathes and nods.

He gets up and grabs a condom to roll on. He gets back on the bed, but she pins him down, pinning his hands on either side of his head.

“Let me take care of it, baby, just want you to feel good and relax.”

She lines herself up and sinks down on him. He moans out at the tight feeling. She brings her hands back down to his and intertwines their fingers as she keeps them pinned on his pillow. She rocks back and forth on him slowly, just getting adjusted, and then she starts to get a good pace going, moving up and down on him.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He grits his teeth and squeezes her hands. “You feel so good.” He was panting, watching her above him like this was really doing something to him, and he sort of speaks before he thinks. “Would you spit in my mouth?”

Y/N kept moving on him, but she looked down at him deeply concerned.

“You want me to what?!”

“Never mind!”

“No, I’ll do it!”

“Forget I said anything! I don’t even know why I-“

“Harry, you want me to spit? I’ll spit!”

“It’s weird, it’s too weird, I went too far!”

“Open your mouth!”

Harry’s mouth falls open, his tongue peeking out. Y/N wells up some spit in her mouth and leans down so her mouth was close to Harry’s. She didn’t want to spit harshly. She sort of just wanted her saliva to drip from her tongue to his. Maybe that could be sensual? So she does just that. She opens her mouth and lets the spit in her mouth roll from her tongue to his. She was moving on him in slow circles as she did this. He swallows it and looks up at her. He uses the power from his legs to thrust up into her since his hands were busy squeezing hers.

“Do it again.” He breathes.

She happily obliges and does it again for him. It was his birthday, she’d do anything he wanted…within reason of course. She supposed it wasn’t the weirdest thing he could have asked for. His tongue had been so far up her cunt, swapping spit was probably the least odd bodily fluid they could have shared.

She stays close to him, sucking on his tongue while they move in sync with each other. She starts squeezing and tightening around him. She was rubbing up against him in the perfect way, and he was about ready to lose it himself.

“M’gonna come, Y/N.” He groans.

“Me too, fuck, me too.”

She sits up straight and her back arches as she comes, and his release wasn’t too far behind. He feels like he explodes inside of the condom. She lets go of his hands slowly and he helps her off of him. He runs a hand through his hair as he watches her wobble around to get some pants and a t-shirt on.

“Just gonna go pee.” She kisses his cheek and slips out of his room.

He disposes of the condom, and puts his boxers and sweatpants on, not much feeling like a shirt at the moment. He was sitting on his bed, twiddling his thumbs, when she came back into the room. She sits down next to him and smiles.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah…I just, um, was that weird?”

“What?”

“When I asked you to spit in my mouth?”

“Um…” She blushes. “It took me a little off guard, but it’s really not that weird.”

“I don’t even know why I wanted you to do that, it just sort of slipped out.”

“It’s really not that different from kissing, I mean, we technically spit on each other all the time.”

“Guess that’s true.” He smirks and grabs his glasses. “It’s been quite the morning.”

“It’s not over yet.” She stands up and reached for his hand. “Come on.”

They both come downstairs, and Harry gasps.

“Yorkshire pudding?!”

“Got the recipe of Delia Smith’s website.” Louis laughs. “Hope it tasted good. We made eggs, beans, and bacon too.”

“Thanks guys.”

It was a nice breakfast for the four of them. Y/N hangs out with Harry all day. They paint each other’s nails, watch a movie, cuddle, and just enjoy each other’s company. He had gotten a little sleepy, so he was peacefully napping with his head resting in her chest. Y/N noticed that Harry was a stomach sleeper, but he liked having something to hold on to. It was really cute. She was playing with his hair while reading on her phone. It was a really nice lazy day, and a perfect way to make sure everything was getting set up for his surprise party at Ashley’s. She hears his phone start to buzz and sees it a FaceTime request from Gemma.

“Babe, it’s your sister.”

“Okay.” He mumbles and sits up. “Hello!”

“Happy birthday!” Gemma and Anne say together.

“Harry, are you still in bed?” Anne asks.

“Was taking a nap, Mum. It’s my birthday, I’m allowed to catch up on some sleep.”

“Are you doing anything fun?”

“Y/N and the guys made me breakfast, and then we watched a movie, and I think we’re going out tonight.”

“Is she with you now?” Gemma asks.

“Yeah.” He flips the camera.

“Hi, Y/N!” Gemma says.

“Hello.” She says shyly and waves. Harry flips the camera back to himself.

“I love you both, but m’all groggy.”

“Alright, honey, I sent you a nice package so hopefully you’ll get it soon. We love you!”

“Thanks!” He tosses his phone elsewhere, and pushes Y/N back down so he can put his head back on her chest. “So comfy.”

“We should probably get up soon…”

“Why? What else you got planned?”

“Just dinner with friends. We should be there around seven.”

“S’only four now, plenty of time to keep chilling out. I never get to do this, it’s nice.”

“Okay, babe.” She goes back to playing with his hair and reading on her phone.

When it was time to get ready, Y/N put on some black tights that had a pattern on them, her black mini pencil skirt, and a long sleeve red crop top. Harry had a long sleeve blue button up on paired with his black jeans. He was putting his boots one when he watched Y/N zip up her own boots.

“You look so fucking sexy.” He says as he gets up and wraps his arms around her. “Are you sure we have somewhere to be, and I can’t just take this all off you?”

“Sorry.” Y/N giggles. “But dinner’s waiting.”

“But I’m only hungry for one thing.” He pecks at her lips.

“Didn’t you have enough of that earlier?”

“Never enough, babe.”

“Oh, Harry.” She swats a hand at his chest. “Come on.”

They both get their coats on and head out. She loops her arm around his, and leads the way. He realizes they’re headed towards Ashley’s apartment, but he doesn’t question it. She opens the door and everyone yells surprise. Harry laughs and walks in. They put their coats away and he’s amazed at the spread of appetizers there was.

“Thank you all so much, this is great.” He smiles.

All of his friends from senate were there, Louis, Niall, some other people from the soccer team, and other friends. And of course the entire women’s hockey team, but that was a given. A cake is brought out and everyone sings happy birthday to him. After settling down from the food, all of the drinks come out. Everyone takes shots of tequila, and then Y/N makes Harry a vodka cranberry, his favorite. That’s what he stuck with all night. He didn’t want to throw up from mixing drinks.

Y/N was off talking to her friends, but when the music starts to get good, Harry finds her, and yanks her towards him. She wraps her arms around his neck as they start to slow grind.

“Can’t believe you put all of this together for me.”

“Well, it wasn’t all me, the guys helped.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He presses his forehead to hers. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too.”

Harry was really drunk, like, more drunk than Y/N had ever seen him, so she was taking it easy on her own drinks. He stayed attached to her while they danced for the rest of the night. She indulged in making out with him, but there was no way they were having sex again when they got back to his place. Louis and Niall had to help walk him back because there was no way she could carry him. They help him up the stairs in and into his room.

“I’ve got it from here, boys, thanks.”

“Night, Y/N.” Niall says as he and Louis leave.

“Okay, let’s…Harry…” She giggles as he sloppily kisses her neck. “Come on, I wanna get you into bed.”

“Mm, me too. Let’s get you into bed.”

“No, baby, for sleep. Gotta get you out of these clothes for sleep.” He bites down on her neck and squeezes her ass and she groans for a moment before pushing him off. She puts her hands on her hips and looks at him. “We can do that in the morning, you’re really drunk.”

She steps forward and unbuttons his shirt, and gets his pants off. She sits him down on the bed while she gets her own clothes off. She throws on one of his t-shirts and flips the lights off. She climbs into bed with him, and he spoons her, pressing his bulge against her ass.

“M’so hard.” He whines.

“I know, but there’s nothing I can do about that right now.”

“You gave me such a nice birthday.” He holds her closer and nestles into her hair.

“I’m glad you had a nice day, babe.” She chuckles.

“It was the best.” He yawns, and not too long after…he’s out.

Y/N was grateful he didn’t get sick. She didn’t do well with throw up. She drifts off slowly after him. She wakes up a couple of hours later to the sound of his door opening and closing. She sits up immediately, hoping he wasn’t getting up because he was sick. He comes back moment later chugging water from his water bottle.

“Oh, thank god.” She breathes.

“Need some?”

“Yeah.” She smiles and takes the bottle from him.

“Sorry I woke you. I was fucking parched.” He crawls back into bed and takes the bottle from her. “Think I’m still a little drunk.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised, I let you drink too much.” She runs a hand through his hair.

“Oh, but I had so much fun. I’ll just sleep it off.” He gives her a few pecks before settling back down. She rests her head on his chest and he holds her close. This was the life.

The team made it to the first round of playoffs, but nothing further, so their season ended at the end of February. It was sad for the seniors on the team, but mostly everyone was happy for their break. No more early morning practices. They just needed to keep up with lifts in the late afternoons. This also meant that Y/N could stay out later most nights. Ashley and Megan had people over almost every night to drink. They weren’t raging, but Y/N was loving not having to worry about getting up at the crack of dawn. Harry didn’t always go with her, which was fine. He had 8AM’s on Tuesdays and Thursdays, after all.

There was one Tuesday night Harry was already asleep in bed when his phone started ringing. He saw Y/N’s name, and swiped to take the call.

“Baby?” He says groggily.

“Hey sunshine!”

“Amanda?” He sits up. “Why do you have Y/N’s phone?”

“Well, her head’s in the toilet at the moment. She really wants to go home, but it would look bad if one of us carried her. UPD would question us for sure.”

“She’s sick?” He sighs, already pulling some sweats on.

“Yeah, so is Gina. It’s no Bueno.”

“What the hell happened? Where are you?”

“At Ashley’s…we did shots, and then played slap the bag. Not a great mix.”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon.”

He rubs his eyes, grabs his glasses and heads out. He walks right into Ashley’s. Her apartment was filled with smoke and people. Harry partied like anyone else, but not so much on a Tuesday night. He walks to where he knows the bathroom is and doesn’t see anyone.

“Harry!” Amanda says. “She’s over here.” She tugs him over to the living room where Y/N was basically passed out on the couch.

“Christ, where’s Gina?”

“She’s crashing in Megan’s room. Come on, Y/N, Harry’s here.” She nudges her.

“Hm?” Her eyes open slightly and then they grow wide. “No! I don’t want him to see me like this!” She hides her face in her hands.

“It’s okay, babe, let’s get you home.” Harry says, lifting her up bridal styles. “I can’t carry her likes across campus, we’ll get stopped. Help me get her on my back, that’s less weird looking.”

Amanda nods and helps Y/N get situated so Harry could give her a piggy back ride. She was complete dead weight.

“She’s gonna kill me for calling you, but she didn’t want to stay…I’m sorry, I know you were sleeping.”

“It’s alright, Amanda. I’d rather her be safe. You guys have been going a little nuts lately, yeah?”

“We can’t help it. We’re not allowed to get crazy during the week during the season. Things will settle down soon. Spring break is coming up, you know? Last year we all went home and detoxed essentially.”

Amanda gets the apartment door open, and lets Harry take Y/N upstairs.

“Are you gonna spew again?”

“No.” She mumbles.

“Alright, well, I’m gonna put this bucket here.” He brings her barrel over. “Let’s get you out of these clothes, yeah?”

“Go home, you need to sleep.”

“I’m gonna take care of you.”

“No, you’re gonna be mad at me in the morning.”

“I won’t be.”

“Yes you will.” She pouts and her eyes start to tear up.

“Nope, none of that, come on.”

“I can take my own clothes off.”

“Okay, I’ll get your pj’s then.” He goes into her dresses and she lunges towards him, tackling him down. “Y/N! What the fuck?!”

“Don’t go in there! I have things in there you can’t see!”

“You could have just said that! You’re not on the fucking ice!” He gets them both up. “What’s in there that I can’t see?”

“Personal things.”

“Babe.” He pinches the bridge of her nose. “Get your clothes off, now, and I will get your pj’s.”

He goes back into where he knows she keeps her larger t-shirts.

“Harry!” His eyes grow wide after grabbing a shirt off the top. There were two different vibrators and a dildo. “I’ve only ever used the little one…”

“Put this on.” He hands her the t-shirt and closes the drawer.

She strips out of her clothes and he looks the other way to give her some privacy. She gets stuck when she tries to get her shirt on and he helps her.

“Fuck, I have to pee so bad.” She says, sprinting out of the room. He sits down on her bed and waits for her. She brushes her teeth while she’s in the bathroom too. “You’re still here?” She asks, shocked.

“Where the fuck am I going? I’m not leaving you like this.”

“But…you saw the things.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow, or never, I don’t really care.” She sits on his thighs, straddling his lap. “Y/N.” He sighs.

“I just…I don’t want you to think…I mean…I got them over winter break, and-“

“I don’t care, you don’t need to tell me, okay? Can we go to sleep?”

“You’re gonna stay?”

“I just said I was going to! Come on.”

“You’re angry.”

“I’m a little cranky, yeah. Your friend called me drunk to tell me your head was in a toilet while I was sleeping. At least tomorrow we don’t have class until 10:30, so I’ll have to get back and grab my shit beforehand. Now, lay down on the edge so you’re closer to the bucket.” He rids himself of his sweats, leaving himself in his boxers, and gets in with her. She turns to face him while he’s facing her. “You need to turn over.”

“But you’re so pretty.” She whispers and it makes him crack a smile as she pokes his dimple. “I’m sorry she called you.”

“I’m not, I’d come get you any time. I’ll carry you home whenever you need.” He strokes the side of her face. “You’ve done the same for me, it’s fine. Just lay on your stomach for me, okay? I’ll rub your back how you like.”

“Okay.” She smiles and does as he says. She falls asleep with him softly petting on her and it feels amazing.

His alarm goes off at 8AM and she groans.

“Up, let’s go.” He says, rummaging through her closet for her spare towels. “We’re showering quickly and then going to my place, and then we’re getting greasy breakfast sandwiches so you’re not hungover for class.”

“Eric won’t care, he likes me.” Y/N mumbles.

“A little too much if you ask me.”

“Oh stop. I could say the same about that freshman you’re tutoring.”

“How about neither of us play the jealous game?”

“Deal.” She stands and nearly vomits. “Ugh, I feel like shit.”

“You’ll feel better soon.”

“You came to my rescue last night?”

“Yup, that’s me, prince charming.” He rolls his eyes and tugs her out of her room.

She puts her hair up and they both get into the shower. Harry gets them both clean, and dressed. He makes sure she has everything for class, and then they head to his place. Once he has all of his things, and has new sweats on, they head to the coffee shop on campus for breakfast sandwiches.

“Harry…you’re wearing sweatpants to class.”

“I’m aware.”

“But you never wear sweatpants to class.”

“I’m a little fucking tired, Y/N, is that alright?”

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not…” He sighs and looks at her. “I just…I’m feeling anxious from things happening so abruptly. My entire routine got messed up and-“ He could feel his breathing quickening so he takes a deep breath. “It’s fine, I’m fine, we’re fine, let’s just go eat.”

They both get coffees and breakfast sandwiches and grab a table to sit. They had about thirty minutes before class, so they could take their time eating.

“Fuck, this was a good idea.” She moans as she eats.

“Yeah.” He agrees as he bites into his own. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Maybe go a little less hard at the parties during the week?”

“You got it. I hate throwing up, I’m not dealing with that again, nor am I going to do that to you again.”

“I wouldn’t care…it’s just…it was a school night is all.”

Y/N nods her head and continues eating her breakfast sandwich. Once they’re done, they head to class and sit down. Eric was there a little earlier than usual.

“Ah, Y/N, I’m glad you’re here. I wanna talk to you about your paper on your Bond comparative essay.”

“Oh…okay.” Y/N walks up to him and he takes her paper out. Harry can’t help but watch the conversation as other students come into class. “I know I’m not a very good writer…”

“No! You’re brilliant, actually. This is one of the better papers I’ve seen. You made a lot of incredible points. You got an A, see?” He shows her and her eyes grow wide. “I was wondering if I could if I could hang onto this and scan it to save as a copy. Students are always asking me for example papers, and I think this is a great paper to use.”

“Are you serious? Yeah, that’s fine with me.”

“Great, thanks.” He smiles. “Well done.”

“Thank you…” She blinks and sits back down. She looks at Harry in shock. “He wants to keep my paper to use as an example.”

“That’s great! You worked really hard on that one, Y/N, you deserve a little praise.”

Eric passes out the rest of the papers, and gives Y/N hers so she could look at any notes he may have made. Harry also got an A, not that Y/N was surprised, but she was happy for him nonetheless.

“H, what did you get?” Billy whispers from behind him. Harry turns to look at him.

“An A, what about you?”

“B+, not too bad.”

“Alright everyone, today, as a treat, we’re going to watch Austin Powers since we’ve just finished our Bond unit. Since we’ve watched a few films, you’ll see that this movie takes a lot from Gold Finger and Golden Eye.” He says as he starts the movie and turns the lights.

“Ugh, thank god. If there was ever a day to just chill in class, it’s today.” Y/N whispers to Harry.

“Agreed.” He whispers.

Eric clears his throat to get their attention, and they both sit back in their seats. There were plenty of laughs throughout class as the movie continued. Y/N stretches as she stands once class ends, revealing a little bit of her stomach. Harry catches Eric looking briefly, and puts his arm around her shoulders.

“Have a good stats class.” She puckers lips and kisses him.

“Thanks, have a good rest of your day. I won’t be able to meet up tonight, I’m doing a group tutoring session, and then I have an 8AM tomorrow…”

“Okay, well…thanks again for last night. I really owe you.”

“No you don’t.” He smiles and gives her a lingering kiss before they part ways.

Spring break was definitely the detox Y/N needed from all of the drinking she had been doing with the hockey team, although, she really didn’t want to go home. Harry would be staying on campus with any other students who couldn’t go home. He had projects he needed to work on, but he also thought it would be a nice time break to spend with Y/N. She couldn’t stay on campus, though, because she needed to work at the bar. She also needed to bring up going to Italy this summer to her mom.

“Great work tonight, honey.” Angie says to her as they wipe down the tables.

“Thanks…um…can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course!” She stops what she’s doing to look at her daughter. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, I just…well, I’ve been invited somewhere this summer, and I’d really like to go.”

“Alright, where have you been invited to?”

“Italy.” She mumbles.

“Come again?”

“Italy.” She says a little louder. “See, Harry-“

“Oh, here we go.” Angie rolls her eyes.

“Mum, please, let me just explain.”

“Okay.” She crosses her arms and sits down.

“He and his friends spend three weeks in Italy every summer, one of their dad’s has a house by the water or something. They go end of July through early August, so it’s not like I’d be missing the holiday rush…I’d like to go the whole time, but I’d be willing to compromise, and I’ll pay my own way.”

“You expect me to let you take an international flight alone? What if you get abducted?”

“Mum.”

“Three weeks alone with your boyfriend is a long time…”

“Well, we won’t be alone, his friends will be there.”

“You know what I mean.” She sighs. “I really hate this whole you being an adult thing. I can’t really say no, you’re almost twenty years old, and it will be summer so you should take advantage and travel…” She takes a moment and looks at Y/N. “Could you go for two weeks instead of three? I think that’s plenty of time to spend together.”

“Yeah! I can definitely do that.” She smiles.

“And I’ll pay for half the ticket, that’ll be your birthday present. Your passport should still be good from high school.”

“Mum!” She squeals and hugs Angie. “Thank you so much, Harry’s going to be so excited!” She kisses her cheek. “I’m excited too, of course.”

“Well, I should hope so.” She chuckles, and they continue to close down the bar.

Y/N convinced Angie to drive her back to campus on Friday instead of Sunday. She dropped off all her things, and walked to Harry’s. She knocks on the door, and he opens it confused, but happy to see her.

“Hey!” He wraps his arms around her. “You’re back early.”

“Wanted to surprise you, can I come in?”

“Of course! Yeah, come on in.”

“Are you busy?”

“I was just working on a paper, but I can definitely take a break.” Hey both go up to his room, and he moves his things away from the bed so they can both sit. “Got a lot done this week, I’m feeling good.”

“That’s great! Okay, so, I have really good news that I’ve been keeping to myself because I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Oh? Please, do tell.” He grins.

“My mom said I could come to Italy this summer! Only for two weeks instead of three, but still.”

“That’s great!” He cups her jaw and pulls her in for a kiss. “We’re gonna have so much fun. I can show you what website to go on for the plane ticket, there’s this site that sells them for really cheap. I use it when I go home and stuff.”

“Sounds good, thanks. I think two weeks will be plenty, don’t you?”

“I mean, sure.” He shrugs.

“I wouldn’t want us getting on each other’s nerves being together 24/7.”

“We’ll be too busy to get on each other’s nerves, trust me. I can’t wait to tell my friends you’re coming, they’re dying to meet you.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. What are their names?”

“Well, Lou and Niall will be there, they came last year and are coming again. They go right from there to here for soccer. Then there’s my friend Adam, his dad is the one who owns the house, and Mike, Ben, and Clark.”

“Are any of them seeing someone?”

“Um, Adam brought a guy with him last summer, but they’re not dating anymore, so he may be going stag.” He shrugs. “When we were in high school we used to bring a lot of girls with us because we thought we were cool.” He laughs. “But Ben might bring someone, I’m not sure exactly. Sometimes we would just meet people in Italy to hang out with.”

“Hang out with.” She rolls her eyes. “Any Italian chicks I need to worry about.”

“Not that I can think of.” He taps his chin playfully. “You know me, I’m a real sexual deviant.” He says sarcastically and she nudges him. “Come here.”

He pulls her down to lay with him, and they both sigh. He rubs her back and she lays her leg over both of his, pressing into the bulge that’s growing in his pants. He tilts her chin up to look at him and she removes his glasses. He presses his lips to hers and she moves the rest of the way on top of him. He licks at her bottom lip, and she opens up for him. He has one arm wrapped around her back, and the other one around her ass, keeping her nice and close. Her fingers slot through his soft hair and she moans softly when she rolls hips her hips slowly on his.

“Missed you.” He says against her lips, taking her bottom lip between his teeth.

“Missed you too.” She whimpers as he presses his hips harder up towards hers.

Things started to get a little more heated from there, Y/N could feel her lips getting swollen from how hard her and Harry were kissing each other, and she was about ready to lose it in her pants from the way they were grinding on each other.

“Harry.” She groans. “Please.”

“Please what?” He moves her hair away from her neck and starts sucking on her soft skin.

“Can we please fuck?”

“Yes.”

He flips them over so she’s on her back, and he yanks her leggings and panties off in one swoop. She gets her shirt and bra off while he gets naked himself. He climbs back onto the bed and he wraps her legs around his waist. She slides her hands up and down his torso and chest.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your tattoos? Because I do, they’re so cool.” Her hands trace over the ferns on his hips.

“Thanks baby.” His hands knead her breasts.

Harry slides his hard dick over her folds and against her clit, causing her hips to buck up. He dips his head down to kiss on her neck and her hand wrap around his back, nails digging in.

“Do you wanna…put it in?”

She feels him nod his head yes, and before she knows it he’s pushing inside her. Her gasp turns into a moan. She bites down on his shoulder as he rocks in and out of her. He sucks on one of her nipples as he thrusts in and out.

“Feels so fucking good.” Her head rolls back into the pillows.

He pulls out and grins at her. She raises an eyebrow at him, and then he flips her over, pulls her up to her knees. She looks back at him as he slides in again. He gets an even pace going, and then he tugs her back to him, his chest flush with her back. He’s got one arm snaked around her, and the other rubbing slow circles on her clit.

“Fuck, oh my god.” Her head rolls back to his shoulder and she looks up at him. He slots his mouth over hers, and the both moan into each other.

“This why you wanted to come back early? Just really needed my cock?” He says into her ear and it has her pushing her ass against him.

“Thought about you every night.” She groans.

“Yeah? Did you bring home your little toys to help you out?”

“H-Harry, don’t-“

“Maybe I should use one on you sometime, would you like that?”

She was dripping all around his cock, she loved when he would just say whatever he wanted into her ear.

“Only wanna feel you.” She admits. It was true, she didn’t like having to use her vibrator, as good as it felt. She really just preferred Harry’s hands on her.

She feels him smile into her neck, knowing that was exactly what he wanted to hear. He picks up the pace on the way he’s rubbing her clit and he feels her squeeze around him. She hooks an arm up around his head to tug at his hair.

“Shit, Harry!” She cries out as she comes to her release.

He gently lets go of her so she can press her front to the mattress. He keeps his hands on her hips as he drives into her hard and fast. He had her panting, and he was panting too. He pulls out and comes on her ass and back before collapsing next to her.

“Fuck.” He breathes and then looks at her. “You have the most perfect ass I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Shut up.” She giggles.

“Let me clean you up.” He kisses her forehead and then gets up to grab a rag to wipe her clean.

“Thank you.”

He gets back onto the bed and pulls her close to him. They lay there naked for a bit, just enjoying the time skin to skin.

“Do you feel like having a little date night tonight since you’re here? We could go downtown for dinner and then come back to watch a movie in the living room.”

“I’d like that. I’d just wanna go home and change first.”

“Oh cute, then I can come pick you up.”

“Always the romantic.” She kisses his cheek and gets up to grab her clothes. “Give me, like, an hour to get ready, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me, see you soon.” He smiles and kisses her as she leaves his room.

Harry was really happy that Y/N came back a couple of days early. He was trying to play it a little more cool, but she was such a source of comfort for him. He had incorporated her into his routine, so when she wasn’t around he would get a little anxious, which he knew wasn’t healthy, but there wasn’t much he could do about it right now.

He puts on a green sweater with the black jeans he knows she likes, and puts his contacts in. He runs his hand through his hair a few times, getting his curls to sit just right. He knew he needed a haircut, but he also liked when Y/N would really tug on his hair. His logic was the longer his hair the better the grip she could get on him. He left the bit of scruff he had grown out and put on some cologne. He heads down the stairs to put his boots on and goes into the living room.

“Going on a date with my girl, mind if we have the living room when we get back? We’re gonna watch a movie. You can join if you want-“

“And watch the two of you make out?” Louis scoffs. “I’ll pass, mate.”

“Same here.” Niall chuckles. “But we can definitely clear out of here.”

“Thanks, I just get sick of watching stuff on my little laptop screen. Are you guys doing anything tonight?”

“Might go see some of the girls from the other international house. I don’t see myself staying out too late, I went a little too hard last night.” Louis says.

“Yeah, I spewed in the bushes, so I won’t be drinking tonight.” Niall says.

“Alright.” Harry chuckles. “Well, see you later.”

Harry makes the walk to Y/N’s apartment, and he knocks on the door when he gets there. His cheeks immediately blush when he sees her. She had a dark blue thing sweater dress on, showing off all her curves. She paired with some black boots and black tights, looking cuter than ever.

“You look so pretty.” He pouts at her and takes her hand.

“Thanks, thought I’d dress up a little It’s rare that we get to go on a real date.”

“I know! I’m really glad you came back a couple days early. Meant it when I said I missed you.”

“I meant it too.” She loops her arm through his so she can cling to him a little tighter.

The end up at the local bistro, even though Y/N told Harry it would be too expensive, but he assured her it was fine. She talks about her week working at the bar, and he talks about what he might do for work this summer.

“I could always go back to the bakery, but I really want to take the rest of the semester to figure out what I actually want to do. I might go see my advisor next week. I literally have zero idea what I want to do with my life.” He sighs and pops a fry into his mouth.

“Does anyone?” She laughs.

“Well, you sort of do. You’ve got a job lined up right away after graduation.”

“Yeah, working for my mom until she decides to retire really sounds great.” She rolls her eyes. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wanna take over the bar, but I wanna do it more in a way where like I could open up multiple locations, you know? I could oversee multiple businesses across the country.”

“Wow…that would be really cool.”

“It’s just an idea, I don’t know if it’ll ever happen. People like small town bars with good food, and that’s what my mom has, I think opening up multiple locations could work, it would just take a lot of marketing and PR. I may pick up a PR minor, the classes double count in my major and I think that may be what I’m a little more interested in these days.”

Harry loved listening to Y/N talk about her aspirations. She really was smart, and he didn’t think she gave herself enough credit.

“Are you not interested in the law stuff anymore?”

“I don’t know…” He sighs. “It’s just such a big commitment, you know? It’s more school, and then you basically have to study and pass the bar where you want to live, and I have no idea where I want to live. I don’t know if I wanna stay in the U.K. forever. I’ve barely been able to explore America while I’ve been here, and there are parts of Europe I’d like to go to. I don’t know, maybe I’ll become a travel blogger or something.” He jokes.

“You laugh, but you’d hit it big.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well…” She blushes. “You’re insanely hot, Harry, so you have that going for you. People would follow you on a superficial level, and then there’s the fact that you’re smart and nice. You could talk about the country or town you’re in and say what you really liked and what you discovered.”

“Not a very sustainable job though.”

“Have you ever thought about becoming a teacher? You’re really good at explaining things. You never once made me feel stupid last semester.”

“I think I’m better one on one. I feel like whenever I have to give a presentation I just word vomit. I’m also not on an education track, so again, more school. I ‘d need my master’s, and you need to take whatever tests there are in the state you want to work in, and that’s if I wanna stay in America. I don’t even know what I’d want to teach…”

“You could find a job like in a tutoring office like we have here. It takes someone really important to run those types of offices and-“

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Um…do you mind if we change the subject a little?” His leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. “I know this stuff is important to talk through and figure out, but it’s making me anxious.”

“Oh!” She reaches across the table and puts her hand over his. “I’m so sorry, of course we can talk about something else, anything else.” She smiles. “What movie do you feel like watching later?”

They settled on The Devil Wears Prada. It was something they had both seen, so it didn’t matter if they paid attention or not. His arm was around her and they were lounging comfortably.

“I really like this dress you’re wearing.”

“Yeah? Thought you preferred me in sweats.” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“You could wear a paper sack and I’d like it on you.” This makes her burst out laughing and he smiles down at her.

They both adjust so they can lay down, and he pulls her body on top of his. She sucks on his bottom lip, and his hands slide down to her ass. His tongue drags of hers and she moans into his mouth.

“You’ll stay tonight?” He whispers. “Missed having you to hold onto at night.”

“Of course I’ll stay.” She stays. “No one else I’d rather have cuddles with.” She kisses on his jaw and moves to his neck.

“Leave a good one on me babe, mark me up.”

Y/N bites down decently hard on Harry’s neck and it makes him grit his teeth and squeeze at her harder, but god did it feel good. Truth be told one of his regular tutees flirted with him a lot, and even though he had mentioned Y/N over and over, she would still flirt with him. A nice new hickey may help her get the picture. Also, Harry just really liked getting them. He liked giving them too, but they just felt so fucking good.

“Did you have a nice break, Harry?”

“Yeah, Bri, thanks, did you?”

“Mhm, I got caught up on some things, but I’m definitely still struggling with Intro to Gen Psych…”

“Alright, well, let’s look at your notes from class.”

She reaches into her bag, and when she gets everything out, she notices Harry taking his jacket and scarf off. Her eyes bug out when she sees the giant welt on Harry’s neck. Now, normally he would want to be more professional, but at the end of the day, he was twenty and didn’t give a fuck.

“Everything alright?”

“Um…y-yeah, everything’s fine? Did you, um, go out over the weekend?”

“I did, yeah. Went to a party with some friends Saturday night. My girlfriend came back a couple days early too, that was nice.” He smiles and grabs her notes. “See, I think if you highlighted within your notes, like we’ve talked about, you would have an easier time finding things.”

“Right, um, sorry, Harry.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” He furrows his brows at her. “I already passed this class, it’s you who still needs to finish it. Tutoring can help a lot, but if you don’t take what we do here and apply it elsewhere, you’re not going to see any improvements.”

He was close to her, showing her what she should highlight, and it made her nervous, but in the best possible way. All of a sudden they hear some giggling, and it was a giggle Harry knew all too well. They both look up and see a good chunk of the hockey team. Many of the girls still got together to study like they would during the season.

“Oh, shit, is that Harry?!” Megan says. “Ow ow! Look at him on the clock.” She teases.

“Leave him alone.” Y/N swats a hand at her, and looks over to Harry, mouthing I’m sorry. He waves at them and gives them a half smile.

“Damn, Y//N, I would have tried to fuck my tutor too if it were him.” Another girl teases her and they all start laughing.

“Hey, uh,” Harry turns around in his chair and smirks, “we’re in a library, ladies.”

“Is that so?” Y/N struts over to him and looks at Bri. “Careful with him, he’s a little too good at his job.” She kisses Harry’s cheek and then goes off with the girls to the back of the library.

“Sorry about that, Bri.” Harry chuckles.

“So…that was your girlfriend?”

“Mhm.” He smiles proudly. “Now then,” he clears his throat, “let’s talk more about your note taking, shall we?”

It was hard enough saying goodbye to Ashley, Megan, and some of the other seniors on the team, but it was just about move out day, and Y/N cried every time she thought about not being able to just walk down a couple of streets to see Harry.

“We’ll see each other before you know it, and when we do we’ll have two weeks of perfect weather in Italy together.” He says as he holds her close to him in bed.

“I know, I’m just really sad.” She cries into his chest and he tries his best to soothe her.

“Please don’t cry, Y/N, you’re killing me.”

“I’m sorry.” She sniffles. “I don’t mean to be like this. The time difference just sucks, Harry.”

“I know.” He sighs.

“And you won’t even get to see me for my birthday.” It was in a couple of weeks.

“But we already sort of celebrated, remember the big party we had here last weekend?”

“How could I forget? You made me margaritas all night, and then fucked my brains out.” She chuckles and so does he. “Couldn’t walk right for two days.”

“Cause I know you like it like that.” He kisses the top of her head. “Look, I’m gonna miss you too. It’s not easy being away from your favorite person, but we’ll make it work. It’ll just make things better when we see each other again. I do have one favor, though?”

“What?” She looks up at him.

“You’ll have to leave lots of marks on me, really good ones, so that they’ll just barely have faded by the time I see you. The only thing is, my mum will be pissed if she sees my neck like that, you’ll have to be creative about where you put them.”

“Challenge accepted.” She gives him a devious smile and sinks down under his covers. Thank god Harry had an a/c in his room.

“What are you…oh!” He starts laughing when he feels her suck on his inner thigh, like he would normally do to her. “Why did you tell me this tickled so much?!” He rips the blanket away to look down at her.

“It doesn’t tickle when you do it to me.” She pouts up at him. She moves to kiss on his hip and then things feel less funny.

“Yeah, I like it when you do it there.”

She kisses up his chest and sucks a nice, dark mark on one of his pecs and then smiles up at him. Her eyes start to water again and she hides her face in his neck.

“What happened?”

“We’re not going to be able to do this whenever we want soon, and it just…” She cries into him again.

“Baby.” He coos. “Let’s just enjoy right now, yeah?” He rubs her back. “Want me to make love to you? Be all sweet and slow?”

“Mhm.” She says, muffled from the way she’s pressing further into him.

“Alright.” He rolls them both over and runs his fingers over her folds. Yes, they were both already naked.

He slides his middle finger inside her slowly, working his way in and out, sucking on her nipple as he does so. This helps her to calm down just like he was hoping. He sucks his finger into his mouth when he’s done and then rubs his hard dick against her clit. She groans and then he slips inside. He hides his face in her neck so he can kiss on her while he rocks in and out. They both just wanted to be as close as possible right now.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He moves to look at her and she puts her hands on his shoulders.

“When you get close, will you please come inside me?” She looks so innocent right now.

“If I say yes will you promise to tell me when you get your period?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, baby, I’ll come inside you when the time comes.”

She pulls his face down to hers to kiss him. Things are slow and sloppy and just perfect. He rubs her clit to help her along and she cries out as she comes. She nearly comes again when she feels him fill her up. It was the first time he had ever come inside her without a condom, and it felt so fucking good.

“I love you so much.” He says to her as he pulls out.

“I love you too.” She clamps her legs together to try not to make a mess on his bed, and she stands up. She throws on one of his shirts before heading to the bathroom.

They snuggle all night, and most of the morning. Harry helps her pack up her apartment, and he waits with her for Angie to come pick her up. It was a really difficult goodbye, but Harry tried to stay strong for the both of them. Of course the second the car pulled away he started crying. He calmed himself down, though. They would call, text, and FaceTime. Thank god she was coming to Italy.

“Shit.” Y/N says to herself.

“What?” Julie asks coming into her room.

“According to my pills, I’m going to have my period when I’m in Italy.” She groans.

“So?”

“So?! I’m gonna be swimming and stuff.”

“Just use a tampon.”

“I’m going to be with mostly boys, and I have zero idea if it’s a fancy boat with a bathroom on it. I’ll only have it a few days, but still. Fuck, and I’ll probably have it right when I first see Harry.”

“Do you guys not…do it when you have your period?”

“Don’t be gross.”

“It’s a valid question!”

“We did, like, once in the shower, but it sort of hurts, so it I didn’t like it and we didn’t do it again.” She sighs. “I miss him so much, I don’t think I’ll care when I finally see him.”

“Show me the new bathing suits you got.”

“Hey.” Cooper comes into the room as well and just stands there, munching on some chips.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“M’bored.”

“Wanna look at my new bathing suits?”

“Alright, yeah.”

“You have WhatsApp?”

“Already downloaded.”

“And you’ll text me updates, and you will take a picture of you and Harry together so I know you’re really with him?”

“Yes, mum! Please, I need to go get through security. I love you, and I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

“I love you too, have a great time.”

Y/N gets through security, and texts Harry and her mom updates. She had the window seat so she was able to get comfortable for her long flight. She wanted to look cute and refreshed, so she gets up to change in the bathroom of the plane. She puts on a pair of high-waist jean shorts, and a black crop top. Her hair is down, but she ties a bandana he had given to her in it, and touched up her makeup. She was feeling really good, despite being in the middle of her period. At least it would end in a day or so.

The flight lands on time, and Y/N texts Harry and her mom that she’s landed. She gets her backpack on, and manages to follow the signs to baggage. Luckily there were a lot of signs in English. Harry had “tutored” her a bit in Italian this summer, so she wasn’t totally lost. As she approaches baggage she squints when she sees three guys who look very familiar.

“Oi! There she is!” Louis says and Harry turns around, beaming at Y/N.

She runs towards him and jumps into his arms, wrapping all of her limbs around him. He looked so fucking good in his little shorts and t-shirt and tanned skin. Their lips collide and they almost forget their in the airport.

“I hate to break this up, but which bags are yours, pet?” Niall asks.

“Oh! The floral ones!” She points to them as they come off the belt. Harry sets her down and he grabs her bags. She gives Niall and Louis a hug as well. “Now, if we let you two sit in the back of the car together, do you promise to hold off on the groping?” He teases them as they walk out to the parked cars.

“Think I can behave myself for a bit, yeah, Y/N?”

“I’ll do my best.” She giggles. “How far away are we form the house?”

“Bout an hour, not too far.” Harry says. “We’re having dinner on the boat tonight, you’ll love it. Fresh steamers, you like those, right?”

“Love ‘em.” She smiles.

He puts his arm around her and keeps her close as Louis drives back to the house. She switches her gaze from Harry to out the window, unsure of what she preferred to soak up in the moment. Harry had a lovely tan, his hair was a tad shorter, but not by much, and he had definitely been trying to grow out his scruff. He was handsome as ever.

“You look really cute.” He whispers in her ear and it sends a shiver up her spine. “Is that the bandana I gave you?”

“Mhm.” She smiles up at him. “I wear it all the time at work.”

“Good, it suits you.”

They pull up to the house in what feels like no time at all, and Y/N’s jaw drops as she gets out of the car. It was beautiful, and private. There was a path to a private dock where the boat was, and there were a couple of other guys outside.

“I’m just gonna show Y/N to our room, and then we’ll come down for dinner.” Harry tells Niall and Louis as they make their way to the boat.

“Our room, huh?” Y/N smirks up at Harry as he carries her bags in. He stops short and looks at her.

“Shit, uh, did…fuck, did you not want to stay with me? I think we can-“

“Harry!” She laughs. “Jesus, I was kidding, why would I come all this way and not sleep in a bed with you?”

“I…don’t do that.” He side eyes her as they both go inside. She shakes her head at.

“Wow…even more beautiful on the inside.” She looks around.

He hums his response and gestures to follow him upstairs. There were a lot of bedrooms, both on the main level and second level of the home. Harry was the only one to bring a date this summer, so his friends granted him the privilege of the bedroom with the en suite bath.

“Here we are, love.” He puts her bags down and closes the door behind them. He lets her look around for a moment. She peeps her head into the bathroom and then she smiles at him.

“This is amazing. I can’t believe I’m really here.

“Me neither.” He cups her jaw and kisses her. She wraps her arms around his waist as he licks into her mouth. “Missed you, baby.”

“Missed you too.” He bites down on her bottom lip, and his hands start to slide farther south, but she stops him. “We can’t.”

“Dinner can wait.”

“No, I mean…I need two more days.”

“What?”

“I have my period, but it should be done soon. I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright.” He sighs. “Better to have it now than later when we’re camping, right?”

“Mhm.” She smiles and kisses him again.

“Besides, we’ve got that nice big shower.” He winks at her, and then leads her out of the bedroom.

He keeps his hand on the small of her back as they walk down the dock to the boat. She could already smell the seafood.

“Shit!” She stops short. “We have to take a selfie to send to my mom, she wanted proof I wasn’t kidnapped.”

“Alright.” He chuckles. She takes her phone out to snap the quick photo, and then they continue onto the boat. “Oi! Can I get everyone’s attention, thank you.” All of the boys look at Harry and Y/N. “Clark, Adam, Ben, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Hi.” She says shyly.

“Don’t look like a hockey player to me.” Ben says, jokingly. “Nice to meet you, finally.” He extends his hand and she shakes it.

“Don’t be fooled, she can really pack a punch.” Harry says, sitting down.

“It’s great to meet you, Y/N.” Adam says, giving her a hug. “Hope you don’t mind being with a bunch of guys for the next couple of weeks.”

“It’s not a problem.” She smiles.

“Harry’s told us a lot about you.” Clark says, shaking her hand. “Nice to actually see you in person. Harry’s always sending us pictures of you.”

Y/N turns to look at Harry, giving him a face.

“All tasteful, I promise. Come here.” He pulls her to sit on his lap. “How’s dinner coming along?”

“The steamers have just about popped.” Adam says. “We’ve also got crab legs. Do you like all that, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I love seafood, thank you.”

“Alright, now that we don’t need to drive anywhere else,” Niall starts. “can we get to drinking?”

“Read my mind.” Ben says, getting up to pull the cooler of beer over. “Do you like beer, Y/N? We have other drinks if you don’t.”

“Beer’s great, thanks.” She smiles and leans forward to grab one for her and Harry. “I guess this is my first legal drink, that’s sorta cool.”

“That’s right! You don’t have to second guess a thing here.” Harry says, cracking his beer open. They all clink their cans together and take a sip.

Adam brings the pig pot of steamers up from below deck, and Clark brings out the crab legs and butter. Louis helps with the cocktail sauce and plates. Everyone takes what they want and dig in.

“Mm, these are delicious.” Y/N says. “Thanks so much for making all this.”

“We thought your arrival would be the perfect night to do this, so thank you.” Adam says.

“So, you three have known Harry since high school?”

“Well, we call it secondary school.” Ben says. “But yeah, think you and Adam have known each other the longest though.” Harry nods his head. “We became pretty good mates after a school camping trip.”

“I think we started coming here when we were sixteen?” Clark looks at Adam.

“I’d say so, yeah. My dad’s had this house a while. I think sixteen is when he trusted us enough to come here a lone. Lotta good summers here.”

“How did you two meet again? You had a class together?” Ben asks.

“Nope, she needed a tutor.” Harry says.

“Mhm, and lucky me, I got paired up with the most studious one of them all.”

“H really is a bit serious, isn’t he?” Clark teases.

“Gotta be serious to get good grades.”

“So, how did Harry get all these tattoos, I’m not seeing many on you.” She says to three of them.

“That would be me, love.” Louis says. “You didn’t get them all with me, but I feel like freshman year we were constantly driving out to the tattoo shop.”

“Once I got one I couldn’t stop.” Harry says. “I went with these guys to get a few more, the ones on my arms. My mum was pissed.”

“Didn’t you say she nearly fainted when she saw the butterfly?” Clark asks with a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s why I got so many on my stomach in the first place so she wouldn’t see, but it was inevitable.” He shrugs. “Think I’m due for a new one while we’re here, I’d say.” He looks at his right arm. “Not sure where though.” He laughs.

“You should get a mate for your mermaid.” Niall jokes.

“She’s an independent woman, she’s all set.”

Everyone laughs and continues to enjoy their food. They all help clean up and enjoy more drinks by the fire pit after the sun goes down fully. Y/N was having difficulty staying awake. She was up early, had that long flight, and she really just wanted to shower and go to bed.

“Would you care if I went in?” She says to him. “Think I’m ready to for a shower, and I wanna unpack a bit.”

“Sure! Yeah, I’ll head in with you in a minute.”

“Okay.” She stands up. “Night everyone, thanks for a great first say.” She smiles and then heads inside.

“She’s really nice, H.” Adam says. “I like her a lot already.”

“Thanks.” Harry smiles. “I like her a lot too.” He stands up and heads up to their shared bedroom.

“You could have stayed outside if you wanted, I’m just getting my things settled.”

“I know…I thought you might need help with the shower.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“I probably could have figure it out.” She smirks at him.

“Well, maybe I need a shower too. Been outside all day, after all.” He steps closer to her and she can feel her cheeks heating up.

“Harry…I…I want to, but…” She bites her bottom lip. “Last time we tried to do it on my period it really hurt, and I didn’t like it as much as I may have led on.”

“You didn’t fake it did you?”

“No! I came, but…it just wasn’t super comfortable. I really wanna be close with you, I just need a couple more days, and then you can pound me into the mattress for all I care.” Harry chuckles at her statement and he nods.

“Well, can we still shower together without the funny business? I just really missed you.”

“Yeah, just give me a minute in there alone, you know the drill.”

He nods and watches her walk into the en suite with her toiletry bag. She gets the water going, and steps in, opting to get her hair wet to give it a good wash. She calls for him once she feels secure enough, and he comes in right away. They look at each other for a moment, and then he crashes his mouth to hers, pushing her against the wall. Her hands fly to his hair and she moans into his mouth at the feeling of his hard dick pressed against her hip. His tongue glides against her as he gropes her breast with one hand and her ass with the other. He detaches his lips from hers to get some air, and immediately starts sucking on her neck.

“Th-thought you said no funny business.” She manages to get out.

“I don’t find any of this funny, do you?” He says lowly into her ear.

“No.” She breathes and he continues his attack on her neck.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna do anything you don’t wanna do.” He pulls away from her slightly. “I just couldn’t help myself when I walked in here, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She pulls him back, pressing their fronts together. “I really missed you too.”

After some more passionate kisses, they clean themselves up and get out of the shower. Harry leaves her so she has some privacy putting her underwear on. She runs the blow dryer through her quickly so it’s not sopping wet before coming to bed. She throws on a large t-shirt, and Harry can’t help but smile as he watches his cute girlfriend crawl into the large bed with him.

“So, are you not able to swim? We were hoping to take the boat out tomorrow.”

“Does the boat have a bathroom?”

“It does! It’s small, but functional.”

“Then I can definitely go swimming.” She smiles and cozies up to him. She sighs happily. “I really missed this.”

“Me too.” He looks down at her. “I think I sleep better when you’re next to me.”

She pouts up at him and slots her mouth over his. It felt so good to just be able to kiss and touch how they pleased. FaceTiming was great and all, but always left them with a sense of wanting and yearning. The physical touch was something they both craved from the other.

The morning sun creeps into the bedroom, causing Y/N’s eyes to flutter open. She feels like she’s in a dream, but things become real when she feels Harry’s arms around her and his pelvis pressing into her ass. She thinks to maybe take care of him, offer up a hand job or something, but before she can he’s peppering kisses to the back of her neck and then getting out of bed.

“Ready to start the day?” He yawns. “We gotta pack up everything we wanna eat for the day. There’s a mini kitchen below deck, which is nice. I stalked up on some things I know you like from the store.”

“Thank you.” She smiles as he walks into the bathroom. Y/N gets up and stretches a bit. She scowls when she feels a cramp roll through her lower body. She grabs her pills and swallows. She was on the first week of her new pack. “One more day and you’re gone.” She says to herself.

“Are you talking to your period?” Harry chuckles as he comes out of the bathroom.

“Maybe.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “Just started my new pack of pills, should definitely be over by tomorrow.”

“No worries.” He kisses her cheek and goes into the drawer for his swim trunks and a white t-shirt.

“Should I pack other clothes to change into?”

“Nah, we’ll come back here and get cleaned up. I think we’re gonnna go to a bar tonight, should be fun.”

Y/N nods and searches for one of her new bathing suits. She snatches and goes into the bathroom. She hated using tampons, especially this late in her period because things just felt uncomfortably dry, but it wasn’t like she could wear a pad with her bottoms, so this is what she needs to do. Once that’s all situated, she puts her hair up into a messy bun, and slides her bottoms on. They were navy blue, not super high waist, but not super low cut either, mid-rise. She grabs her top, and struggles with getting the back tied. It was a really cute floral string top that matched perfectly with the bottoms.

“Har?” She calls from the bathroom.

“Yeah?” He peeps his head in carefully.

“Could you tie the back of this for me please?”

“Um…sure.” He swallows as he steps closer to her and ties the back of the top. “Is that good?”

She looks in the mirror and adjusts her breasts.

“Yeah, should be alright, thank you.”

“That’s a really nice bathing suit.”

“Thanks.” She smiles. “I just got it, I wanted to have some cute ones for the trip.” Her breasts giggle as she lets them go, and he can’t help but watch.

“Thought you might wear a one piece or something.” He says as he follows her out of the bathroom.

“I can’t really wear those, my torso is long, and they make them way too high cut, it’s not cute on me.” She puts on a pair of jean shorts and a tank top over her bathing suit and smiles at him. “You’ve got sunscreen and all that?”

“Yeah.”

Harry knew he didn’t need to worry about Louis, Niall, or Adam really looking at Y/N. It was Ben and Clark. As good of friends as they were, and they were just as respectful as Harry was, he knew they would still look and gawk at her. He had zero control over it, and that’s the part he hated.

The kitchen smells like fresh coffee, and Harry can hear Y/N giggling as Ben pours her a cup and gives her some creamer. Here we go, Harry thinks to himself.

“Here, Harry.” Louis says, handing him a cup of black coffee.

“Thanks.” He smiles and takes it from him.

“Sleep well, Y/N?” Clark asks.

“Better than I have in weeks, yeah.” She looks at Harry and he looks at her.

“Alrighty then.” Adam says. “Well, I’ve got most of the coolers packed, got all the sunscreen we could need. I figure we could grill on the boat for lunch later. Sound good with everyone?” Everyone hums in agreement. “Perfect, let’s head out.”

Y/N puts her sunglasses on and goes outside with everyone. She sits down on the boat and watches all the boys while they work to get going. It was quite a sight to see Harry maneuvering the different ropes. Adam drives the boat out, and Harry plops down next to Y/N.

“He’s gonna take us out to this sand bar where other boats anchor. It’s a lot of fun, just swimming around, doing nothing. You can lay out on the other end too, work on your tan.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing?”

“Mhm.” He smiles. “I love sitting out in the sun.”

“Me too. It’s been great working at the bar because I can go to the beach during the day with my friends and stuff, and then just go in at night.”

“How’s the gang doing?”

“Oh, they’re great. Max has a girlfriend, and she’s really nice. She came to visit for a weekend to meet all of us.”

Harry felt slightly relieved knowing that Max was seeing someone. He never brought his uneasiness about him to Y/N, and right now he was especially glad he didn’t.

“That’s nice.” He kisses her cheek.

Once the boat is anchored at the sandbar, Y/N takes her cover up off along with the boys. Having basically grown up in a locker room, Y/N wasn’t really nervous to be so exposed around friends. If they hadn’t seen a boob or a butt cheek by now then that was on them. She takes a few photos on her phone. The view was incredible, and she felt so lucky to be there. Harry comes up from behind her and gives her a squeeze.

“Would you help me with the sunscreen?” He asks.

“Of course!” She sprays it all over him and rubs it in on his back and shoulders. “Do me?”

He nods and does the same for her, making sure to get under her straps so she wouldn’t be splotchy. They hear a few splashes. Louis, Niall, and Clark all jumping in.

“The water’s so warm!” Niall shouts to everyone still aboard.

“I’m not quite ready to go in yet.” Y/N whispers to Harry.

“You don’t have to…here.” He grabs a towel from a bag. “Lay out on this, I’m just gonna go in for a quick dip and then I’ll join you.” He smiles and kisses the tip of her nose.

“M’surprised she’s not right in here with you.” Louis says as Harry swims over to them.

“She…uh…well, she’s got her period.” He whispers. “So I think she’s trying to hold off on going in for a bit.”

“Ah, say no more.” Louis says.

“That’s gotta be so annoying.” Niall says. “Did it just start?”

“No, she said it should end tomorrow, so she just needs to tough it out today.”

“We should have gone to the shops then…” Louis says.

“It’s alright, she can still swim, she just doesn’t want to have to deal with, uh, changing yet I think.”

“Changing what?” Clark asks.

“Her…you know.” Harry says, blushing. “Ugh, can we not talk about this actually?”

“Talk about what?” Ben asks as he swims towards them.

“Nothing.” Harry, Niall, and Louis all say at the same time.

They all hear Y/N laughing from the boat. Adam is sitting next to her on the deck.

“Look, Adam has someone to have girl talk with, this’ll be perfect.” Ben says.

“Oi.” Harry splashes him. “Don’t say shit like that. Just because he’s gay doesn’t mean he’s girly. We all paint our nails and wear jewelry for Christ’s sake, we’re not all exactly following gender norms here.”

“Okay, okay, fuck.” Ben laughs and splashes Harry back.

After his quick dip, Harry joins Y/N on the deck to lay out. She looked perfect to him. Laying on her stomach, he could see the cute curve of her bum. He lays down on a towel next to her, and boops her nose as she turns to look at him.

“How was the water?”

“Nice and warm, ready whenever you are.”

“Sun feels good.” She yawns.

“Good.” He smiles at her. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Me too.”

Y/N ends up falling asleep for a bit, which Harry thinks is the cutest thing in the world. He nudges her awake, though, and hands her a bottle of water. She shits up and happily takes it.

“Think I’m ready to go in now, I’m hot.”

“Okay.”

He leads her down to where the latter is, and helps her in by giving her a piggy back ride. She warned him that she wasn’t the strongest swimmer before the trip. Luckily, she could easily stand about belly button deep.

“Y/N, catch!” Niall tosses her a tennis ball, and she catches it.

Adam was hanging out on a float nearby with Ben, and Clark was talking with Louis about some soccer player. Y/N, Harry, and Niall get into a game of catch with the tennis ball. Once noon hits, someone has the brilliant idea to start drinking. Y/N goes up on deck with Harry and she pulls him aside.

“Would you come to the bathroom with me?” She whispers as she grabs her beach bag.

“Yeah.”

He leads her below deck and shows her the bathroom. She asks him to just wait outside and guard the door while she’s in there. He hears her grunt painfully before hearing the sink. She comes out with sigh.

“Alright?”

“Yeah…it just…ugh, it’s just annoying. It’s fine.” She takes a moment to look around. “It’s like a little apartment down here, it’s nice.”

“Yeah, the couch turns into a pull out, it’s pretty cool. We’ve all slept out on the boat before. One summer when there was a lot of us someone just used it as a spare room.”

“Who wants vodka?” Adam asks.

“Me!” Y/N says as her and Harry come back up. “Any soda or anything to go with it?”

“Cranberry juice.” Harry says with a grin and Y/N smiles wider.

Ben fires up the grill while everyone starts to drink. It was a delicious lunch that Y/N was grateful for. Everyone was getting a little tipsy, which resulted in Harry (and others) doing a backflip off the deck and into the water. Y/N had no idea Harry would even do that. He must really be letting loose.

Once everyone sobered up a bit, Adam drives the boat back to the house. It was the perfect day in the sun, but Y/N couldn’t wait to shower off all the sunscreen.

“Do you guys wanna, like, chill for a little while? I could use a nap, honestly.” Clark says. “We won’t be heading to the club until midnight so I’d rather sleep and then have a late dinner.”

“Agreed.” Niall says. “I’m exhausted.”

“Midnight?” Y/N says to Harry as they go up to their room.

“Yeah, things are open later here so we go out later. We’ll pregame and stuff like normal, but it’s sort of lame to be the first ones at a club.”

“Right.” She chuckles. “Well, I am in desperate need of a shower.”

“Alright, I suppose I’ll be a gentleman and let you go first.” He rolls his eyes playfully.

“You can come in with me.”

“If I do that I’m gonna need to fuck you, Y/N.”

“Oh.”

“You’ve looked so sexy all day.” He plays with the strap on the top of her bathing suit. “Don’t have much self-control left.”

“I’ll just, um, go in alone then.” She swallows.

She really wanted to have sex with Harry, but it just wasn’t time yet. She takes a quick shower, and he follows in shortly after her. She didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore, but she put a pad on anyways and a large t-shirt. She sinks into the pillows on the bed and waits for Harry.

“Think I need a nap too.” He yawns. “Swimming and day drinking really tires you out.”

“Yeah.” She laughs and opens her arms for him. He rests his head on her chest and gets comfy.

“This is the best.”

“Absolutely.” She plays with his damp hair and he feels like he’s going to melt into her.

“Oh!” He sits up abruptly and looks at her. “I had an epiphany the other night with the guys.”

“About what?”

“What I might like to do after graduation. We were sitting smoking and it just came to me.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say you were smoking?” She sits up with a surprised look on her face.

“I don’t do it during the school year because sometimes I wig out, but I was fine the other night. Anyways, do you wanna hear what I wanna do?”

“Of course, lay it on me.”

“Human Resources.”

“What about it?”

“That’s what I want to do, Y/N! I all of these ethics classes would really prepare me for that field, and I could literally work anywhere. I’d probably have to start out doing some customer service work and then slowly work my way up, but I think I could be good at it.”

“You wanna deal with sexual harassment stuff?”

“That’s not the only thing that HR reps do, there’s payroll, workplace compliance with dress code and safety. I’d be like Toby from The Office, only cool.”

Y/N smiles and giggle for a moment.

“Well, you’re clearly excited about it, so I think it’s great. Course, I think you’d be good at anything you set your mind to.”

“Thanks, babe. I know it sounds like a boring job, but I don’t think it has to be. Plus, you can make a fuck ton of money.”

“Is that the most important thing to you?”

“No, I suppose being happy is, but a decent salary would be nice too.”

“You’d probably have to wear a suit every day.” She bites her bottom lip.

“Mhm, probably.”

“Sexiest HR rep in the history of HR reps.”

He smiles as he leans in to kiss her. She pulls him on top of her, but keeps her legs closed. After a quick make out session, they decide just to cuddle and snooze for a bit. Harry wakes up to a lack of warmth. He sits up when he doesn’t feel Y/N next to him. She comes out of the bathroom and looks at him.

“What time is it?” He knuckles at his eyes.

“A little after six. What do you think we’re doing for dinner?”

“Ben said he’d make fresh pasta.” Harry yawns and stretches. “It’s his turn to cook.” He gives her a kiss on the cheek before looking for some clothes.

“What should I wear tonight? I have this cute red dress…” She pulls it out of the closet and his eyes grow wide. He puts his glasses on so he can see better.

“That’s…wow, yeah, that’ll look great on you.”

“I really like the cut out on the front. I’ll just put some shorts and a t-shirt on for now. No use in getting ready yet.”

“Right.”

Harry just throws on a pair of shorts and looks at her.

“Must be nice to just walk around shirtless all the time. Wish I could do the same.”

“Well, you could, but I wouldn’t feel terribly comfortable with all of the guys ogling you.” He smirks and she nudges him out of the room.

“Something smells good!” She says as she sees Ben over the stove. “You really made fresh pasta?”

“Yup, and meatballs. Mum’s recipe.”

Y/N was amazed at seeing so many guys just being domestic. Her freshman year of college she had made friends with a few guys on the men’s hockey team and their apartment was always gross. They never did their laundry and always ordered takeout. This was one of the things Y/N really liked about Harry. He was clean and respectful, and it was nice to see he surrounded himself with similar people.

“Oh my fucking god.” She moans as she takes a bit of the food. “That’s delicious.”

“Thanks.” Ben beams. “Hear that, mate, she likes my cooking.”

“Don’t get too cocky, she likes mine plenty, right?” Harry says to her.

“Of course, babe.”

“Babe.” Adam and Clark say together lovingly.

“Enough teasing.” Harry points his knife at them. “Get enough of it from these two at school.”

“Please, we hardly tease you.” Louis scoffs.

“You did when we first started going out, it was so annoying.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“You teased him?” Y/N looks at Louis and Niall. “Not very nice boys.” She shakes her head as she takes another bite.

“It was all in good fun.” Niall says.

After cleaning up dinner, the drinks come back out and everyone does shots of tequila. This was what Y/N had been missing. Just hanging out with people her own age without any parents around.

“Wait, so I need to ask.” Clark starts. “Why hockey?”

“I was too aggressive for soccer and lacrosse. No padding.” She takes another shot and sucks on a lime.

“Jesus.” Adam says. “Why were you so aggressive?”

“I had a lot of, um, pent up anger from my parent’s split…we had to see, um, well it was suggested to me that I try hockey. I already knew how to skate, so it wasn’t difficult for me to pick up.”

“She’s brilliant on the ice.” Harry says, putting an arm around her. “I bet you’ll be captain senior year.”

“Do you have siblings, do they play sports?” Ben asks.

“My younger sister does theater, she’s going to this school…um…AMDA in New York this fall, I’m really excited for her, she’s very talented. My little brother plays hockey too…for the same reasons. At least the boys get to hit each other.” She scoffs. “If there had been a female football league I think I would have done that, but it didn’t exist so hockey it was. Besides, I really do just love it. My mom was able to send me to hockey camp a couple times, and I got to meet some nice people that I still stay in touch with. It’s just a great sport.”

Pregaming was good, but it was getting to be time to change. Y/N takes her hair out of its bun and shakes it out. She had some nice beach waves from earlier. She touches up her makeup, and slips into her dress. It was tight, red, and had a cutout just below her breasts. It wasn’t something she wore often, but she thought a club in Italy would be a perfect occasion. She slips her white tennis shoes on, ever the practical person. Harry feels the wind get knocked out of him when she steps out of the bathroom.

He didn’t look too shabby himself. A white, silk short-sleeve shirt with the first few buttons undone, and a pair of black shorts. He looks her up and down after putting his contacts in.

“Jesus.”

“Isn’t it cute?” She spins around for him.

“Very.” He puts his hands on her hips. “Do we need to leave?”

“Harry.” She giggles. “We can get frisky when we get back.”

“Does that mean-“

“Mhm.” She winks at him.

The boys were all dressed and ready, and a few paid some compliments to Y/N. Harry keeps his arm around her as they walk to the downtown area. They’re able to get into the club with ease, and they all go up to the bar. The bartender gives Y/N’s hers on the house and she smiles.

The music was good, they all dance as a group, but Harry dances behind Y/N with his hands on her hips, which she didn’t mind one bit. His friends had seen him dance with plenty of girls, it wasn’t awkward or anything. They all drank a fuck ton as the night went on. Y/N was loving having her dance partner back. Her head was rolled back onto Harry’s chest while they grind together. He turns her around and pulls her close so he can kiss her, tongue immediately going into her mouth. She wraps her arms around his neck and tugs him as close as they could possibly be. This kiss is hot and forceful. Her fingers lace through his hair.

“Fuck.” He breathes. “Need to get you out of here.” He nearly growls. Y/N nods her head, too frazzled to speak.

Harry finds Adam and lets him know they’re leaving. They both walk quickly, hand in hand, out of the club. The walk back to the house felt like any other time they left a party to go get busy. They giggle and stop to steal kisses until they get to where they need to be. He gets her inside and lifts her over his shoulder.

“Harry!” She squeals.

“Shh, some of the boys could have brought people back.” He gives her bum a little smack as he carries her up the stairs. She laughs, but does as he says to try to stay quiet.

He gets them both on the bed, and she straddles him immediately, her hair falling into her face as she sucks on his bottom lip. He helps move it out of the way, and this his hand slide down her body to grope and squeeze at her ass. She rocks her lips against his, and at this point it just feels torturous for them both. He grabs her hips and gets her on her back.

“You’re really all good?”

“Mhm.”

He lifts the hem of her dress and bunches it up by her hips. His mouth falls open when he sees the red thong she had paired with the dress.

“You’re the devil.” He says, kissing her lips as he pets over her. “You’re good, you’re okay with this?”

“Yes, so okay with it, please.” She nearly whines.

He moves the thin material to the side, and slides two of his fingers inside her. They swallow each other’s moans. He uses his other hand to yank her breasts out of the top of her dress, something she wasn’t expecting, and then he sucks on one of her nipples while he fingers her. Her back arches when his fingers curl up against her g-spot.

“There we are.” He smirks. “Like that, baby girl?”

“Yeah, just like that, Harry.” Her head rolls back into the pillow. “Oh my god, oh my fucking god.” She moans.

“That’s it, let it all out for me.”

He was knuckle deep, and she couldn’t control any of the noises leaving her mouth. She cries out when she comes to her release. He gives her moment before pulling his fingers out. She looks up at him.

“Get your clothes off, now.” She demands.

“Yes ma’am.” He says, saluting her and getting up.

She helps him get his shirt off, attaching her lips to his stomach and sucking on his special spots. His hips buck forward. He tugs her dress off, and his pants drop to the ground at the same time. She wiggles out of her thong, and Harry rids himself of his boxers.

“Really wanna feel you, can we do that?” She pouts at him.

“Yeah.”

She pins him down and straddles him, lining herself up with him and sinking down. They both let out throaty moans at the contact.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He groans as he rocks her back and forth on him.

“Been too long without you.” She starts bouncing up and down on him slowly, and he rubs her clit. “Fuck, Harry.” She squeezes around him.

“Come as many times as you want, don’t hold back.” He says, rubbing her faster.

Her body falls on his and she cries out into his neck. He helps her move back and forth on him as she comes to. She knew she was overly sensitive from having not been touched by him in two months. He looks at her and opens his mouth. Her eyebrows raise, but then she remembers what he wants her to do. She wells up some spit and lets it drip slowly from her tongue to his. He swallows it and smiles up at her. A hand goes to the back of her head, and he yanks her face down to his so he can kiss her. Their tongue move around each other as he thrusts up into her.

“Need it from behind.” He says against her mouth.

She gets off him and gets in position for him. He gives her a gentle smack before sliding back in. His hands grip at her hips as he thrusts in and out.

“Gonna fuck you every day for the next two weeks, as many times as you want. You just say the word, and it’ll be just like this.”

“Fuck, Harry.” His words alone were going to make her lose it again.

“Don’t care where we are, if you want my cock, my mouth, my fingers, you’ve got it.”

She moans out as she comes again, and he loves the way she tightens around him, but he’s trying to hold on a little longer. He hadn’t fucked her in so long, and even though he knew they could do it again, he just wanted to enjoy the initial moment a little longer. He pulls out of her and gets her on her back, and in he goes once against. He takes her hands and pins them on either side of her head. He kisses her as he rocks in and out.

“H-Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Oh, baby, I love you too.” He kisses her.

Things had turned from rushed and frantic to loving and sweet. She rocks her hips along with his, and it feels amazing. He slows down the pace to really just take her all in.

“Love you so much.” He whispers in her ear. He picks up the pace a little, and he can feel himself getting closer.

“Please, come inside me, Harry.” She whimpers. “Wanna feel all of you.”

He bites down on her neck while he comes and she moans out at the feeling of him filling her up. He kisses her cheeks and nips at her lips before slowly pulling out. She gasps at the loss of him at first. She gets up to use the bathroom quickly, and then gets into bed with him. He tugs her to lay fully on top of him. She nuzzles into his chest, leaving kisses every few moments. He rubs her back and moves some hair away from her face so she’ll look up at him. He opens his mouth to say something, but he feels good about the comfortable silence. He opts to just kiss her forehead instead. They both sigh with happiness.

As they fell asleep in each other’s arms, neither had a care in the world. They both knew this was the only time in their lives that they could be so carefree, and they weren’t going to waste it or worry. They wanted to be with each other right now, and that was good enough for the both of them.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #college!harry #the tutor #tutor!harry #tutorry #hockeyplayer!y/n #college au #harry styles au

720 notes · View notes

dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years

Text

Little Witch | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies, I’m finally back with some Mikaleson Brothers content. I’ve had this idea for a while and rewrote it about a thousand times. I’m not sure if I love this but I needed to just finish it. I feel like it’s not that great but regardless I’m giving it to you. It’s super fluffy and a quick burn romance but, hey, who doesn’t like kissing me you just met you know? In all seriousness I hope you’re all doing well. I know life is really off right now and I hope this helps. All my love <3 until next time loves!

Description: Hogwarts and The Originals crossover, disbelief must be suspended for this one as we all know some of this doesn’t add up, soulmate AU

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Female!Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: there are no warnings

Word count: 6.7k

Tags: FLUFF

Tag List: @activist-af , @hellotvshowtrash , @firebirdsalvatore

(Photos not mine but mood board is :) )

“There you are, sweetheart,” her gentle voice breaks through you dreams, pulling you from the same scene you’ve grown used to seeing for the last couple weeks, “you’re going to miss dinner sleepyhead.”

You awake to a familiar picture: your books sprawled across a desk in the middle of the library and a fiery redhead with a soft smile holding a semi-crumpled cardigan towards you. Her eyes twinkle with laughter and familiarity. This isn’t the first time Arabella has found you asleep after you told her you were going to be studying. When you look down at your divination textbook you notice a small pink smudge from your cherry lip gloss. You wipe your fingers around your lips, collecting the rest of your smeared makeup.

You stifle a yawn, stretching your limbs out with a soft groan, “shoot, I fell asleep again. What time is it, Ari?”

“Quarter to six, hun,” she reaches out to brush some fallen hair out of your eyes, “we should really get a move on. Are you feeling okay?”

You nod, this time the yawn interrupting any intention to answer that you had. Your head buzzes lightly with the remnants of your dream. For weeks you’ve felt something on the horizon, something meant just for you. Three pairs of brown eyes and the warmest feeling in your chest. It’s the same feeling you’ve been waking up with every night, if not a touch stronger this evening. You don’t mind it though, it layers a warmth to your bones that this winter in the castle has stripped from you.

“I haven’t been sleeping too well lately is all,” you let Arabella help you slip your cardigan back on, straightening it and your tie, evening the yellow and gray stripes.

Her hands still against your shoulders, her concerned green eyes meeting your own half open ones, “still having those dreams, sunshine?”

You nod once more, sagging slightly from the weight of your tote when she loops it over your shoulder. Your skin tingles with slight electricity, lulling your already fuzzy brain into a deeper haze. You tug your sleeves over your hands, scrunching your fingers into a fist to try and regain some awareness.

“Hmm,” Arabella pushes the same strand of hair from your forehead again, removing her headband and putting it on you instead to keep your unruly strands in place, “remind me to make you some tea before bed. I have some herbs from the greenhouse that might help with them. Let’s go get some food into you first though, ok?

She links her arm through yours, pulling you alongside her towards the dining hall. The corridors are mostly empty, spare a few behind students. Much like yourselves, they hurry in the same direction, following the wafting smell of roasted chicken and pumpkin pie. You can’t help but shiver as you watch them rush, feeling like someone forgot to tell you something. As if everyone knows a secret that you very well must have snoozed through.

“Hey Ari,” you tug lightly on her sleeve to get her attention, “why is everyone in such a hurry? Did I miss something?”

She looks confused for a moment, her button nose scrunching tight before her mouth falls open, “oh yes, that’s right! I forgot to tell you! Some seventh year prefects overheard McGonagall talking about some exchange students from Ilvermorny. They’re supposed to be here for dinner!”

Your skin crackles with electricity, the air static with anticipation, “Ilvermorny? They’re from America?”

She nods her head cheerfully as the two of you approach the towering doors of the dining hall, “I know, it’s crazy right?”

You can hear the buzz of activity emitting from the hall before you cross the corridor, a dull roar that lights you with an even mixture of excitement and nervousness.

“They certainly think so,” you motion to the giggling fourth year girls who scurry past you, their chatter no doubt about the possibility of Hogwarts’ newest additions.

The current coursing through your body sings when Arabella pulls you through the doors. The dining hall is a flurry of activity, each house no doubt wondering if they’ve gained any new members tonight. The thought of some new Hufflepuffs warms your heart. You haven’t had any new faces around in ages it feels like. You let her lead you to a few seats left open near the front of the hall, next to the small stage.

You fall into your seat with a sigh, graciously accepting the plate of food Arabella hands you. How she made it so quick you aren't sure. Magic probably, that would make the most sense. When you glance over at her she has her wand out, levitating food onto her own plate. She always puts you ahead of herself, something you can't help but feel bad about sometimes. Regardless, it warms your heart immensely to be lucky enough to have such a caring best friend. You catch her eye and she passes you a loving smile and a wink before lowering her plate.

As you take the first bite of your pumpkin pie, ignoring the nudge you get for eating your dessert first, Headmistress McGonogal taps her wand to the podium in front of her.

“Students,” she clears her throat, waiting for the noise in the great hall to quiet, “as quite a few of you have already heard by now,” she searches you all with a glint in her eye, a small smile on her lips, “we have a few students joining us.”

The great hall buzzes at her admission, a current running through the entirety of the student body and, most of all, you. Your head feels like it’s spinning. Like you’ve just drunk a litre of fire whiskey and that if you stand up there’s a good chance you’ll fall right over. You drop your fork but the clatter it makes doesn’t register with you as much as it should. Arabella looks over at you, clearly worried, and raises her eyebrows, placing a warm hand on your back.

As you go to shrug your shoulders at her, the doors to the great hall open once more, “ah, and here they are! Please, everyone, show them your warmest welcome. They have come a long way, all the way from Ilvermorny in the United States.”

McGonogal continues to speak about Hogwarts and its connection to Ilvermorny but her speech is drowned out by cheering from all over the great hall. Well, you’re pretty sure it is. Your pulse is thundering so loudly in your ears that you can’t hear much of anything at all. Arabella stares at you still, growing more and more scared as the seconds pass. You think you say something, you open your mouth at least, but whatever words come out of your mouth don’t reach your ears. Arabella tightens her grip.

You close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly, desperately willing your senses to go back to normal. It almost works too but then you breathe in and are hit with three scents so hard that you almost vomit. Not because they’re terrible, though, they’re anything but. No, you almost puke because of how fast you’re swamped in pine and buttery leather and the entire damn sea and how quickly it makes your heart rate spike. Are you having a heart attack? What is going on?

When you open your eyes the great hall is spinning and you know for a fact that you’re the only one experiencing this carousel ride. You have to get out of here. You push away from the table, standing on legs much too shaky for your own good. Arabella calls your name and it sounds like she’s behind a thick sheet of glass, one you can’t break no matter how hard you slam against it. The trees and leather and sea wraps around you again and your knees almost give out. There’s only one thing you can think to do and you don’t hesitate to do it.

You run like hell.

No. Scratch that. You run like hell is chasing you and, well, maybe it is. Maybe hell is a person, or people, perhaps even three people, and their footsteps pound down the corridor behind you so loud they echo through your chest. Your kilt whips around your legs, your hair flying behind you as you clear the corners as they come. You can feel them, whoever they are, gaining but slowly. You can make it, you know you can.

It’s midwinter, the thick of February, and yet you feel like you’re wading through lava. The halls should be ice right now but your blood is scorching you from the inside out. You pull the sweater from your chest as you run, not thinking twice before dropping it, never stopping. Your skin is charged with electricity and you want to scream and tear your heart out but you can’t, not now. You feel them like they’re right on your heels, the triplet of scents swirling furiously around you. You need to get outside. Now.

You make it to the courtyard, practically leaping off the cement steps, but a hand catches your arm midair and you stumble. You see the ground hurtling towards you in slow motion, the cobblestone path laughing at you. You squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the stones to bite into your side but they never do. Instead you’re wrapped in pine, two warm arms pulling you into a firm, hot chest.

You thought your skin was electrified before but that was nothing compared to what is now. Everywhere your body touches the person holding you prickles with static. You can almost hear your flesh crackle, each one of your veins roaring so loud that all you can hear is your blood rushing through you. It’s like a tsunami, waves of fire and power and fucking pine rolling over you unrelentlessly. You aren’t quite sure if you’re still breathing.

You feel another pair of hands on your back, rubbing up and down, spreading the fire like butter over your shoulder blades. Your body reacts on it’s own, your back arching into whoever it is behind you, your head falling onto a shoulder that smells like summer at the beach.

A part of you is screaming to run. To jab your elbow into their stomach and fight like hell. However, against all of your better judgement, the feeling is fading and fast. Hands skim down your arms lightly and you fight the delicious shiver that crawls up your spine. You don’t realize you’re still clinging to the first person until your fists squeeze around the cotton of their shirt. Their hands hand loosely off your hips and you don’t even want to acknowledge how much you like it.

Instead of fighting, you pry your eyes open, only to stare directly into strikingly familiar brown eyes. Your breath catches in your chest, your head still against his shoulder. He leans closer towards you, blonde hair falling down his face slightly. It looks entirely soft and you squeeze your hands tighter, resisting the urge to touch this stranger’s hair. His scent, that overbearing ocean, wraps around you again. He definitely doesn’t feel like a stranger.

“Hi love,” his voice is soft and lulls you deeper into his chest, his nose skimming the arch of your cheekbone, “you’re lucky we’re fast. That could have been quite the fall.”

He chuckles lightly and your cheeks flame, the noise like the wind chimes you hung in the greenhouse your fourth year. His laugh hits you in the gut and radiates to every inch of your skin, cooling the flames but also concentrating them lower. Too low. Your traitorous core sets on fire from the mixture of his musical laugh and mesmerizing eyes. Merlin, you don’t even know his name.

You look away from him but you can’t escape his eyes no matter how hard you try, looking directly into an identical pair of warm, brown eyes. The man in front of you, the one with his hands squeezing your hips, is also frustratingly familiar. He’s tall, his chest, the one underneath your fingertips, is broad and heaves up and down with every breath. Your body, being the wanton force of nature she is, longs to have you wrap your legs, and every other part of you, around the man in front of you. When the blonde behind you wraps his arms around your stomach, reminding you that he’s still there, you want to do the same to him as well.

Memories prickle the edges of your mind, the dreams you’ve been having for weeks now flashing behind your eyelids every time you blink. The warmth in your bones and the molten brown eyes. The same electricity that is burning through your chest and head and core, only now it’s a million times stronger. You shake your head. Not at the man in front of you but at yourself. No way are these the men from your dreams. That’s impossible, Right? And besides, there were three eyes in your dreams.

“There you guys are,” a voice, steadily approaching and as slow and tantalizing as honey, pulls your attention away from the men surrounding you, “I can’t believe you left me to explain what was happening to McGonagall.”

You meet the third pair of eyes with an audible gasp, his sharp leather scent curling around you despite the distance between the two of you. It sinks into your skin and puts you in motion, like the potion you needed to break whatever paralyzing spell you were under. You pull yourself so suddenly from the two men that they don’t have time to catch you, putting some much needed distance between all four of you. You force yourself to ignore the way your heart aches already. Your hand finds the wand in your kilt pocket. Stupid girl, longing for men you don’t even know.

You find your voice but only enough to mutter hastily, “Were you chasing me? Aren’t you supposed to be meeting, like, the whole school right now? What in Merlin’s name is going on?”

The newest male takes a step towards you, his eyes drawing up and down your body, reigniting the heat that has been slowly subsiding and lingering on your hand wrapped around your wand. He smirks at you, like he knows something that you don’t and, honestly, he probably does. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth. His hair is dark brown and just as touchable as the previous two. You squeeze your fist tighter.

“One question at a time, darling,” he takes another step and you tense your shoulders instinctively even though your body is fighting the urge to run to him, “we’ll tell you everything. Can we go inside first, though? You look like you’re freezing. Is this yours?”

His question isn’t really a question, in his hands is your cardigan. He picked it up for you? You let your shoulders sag slightly and your grip loosen. He doesn’t know you, why did he bother picking it up?

“I-,” you release the wand slowly, “yeah that’s mine. Thank you.”

He’s right about the cold, now that you aren’t sandwiched between the other two men the chill nips at your fingers and legs. You go to take your sweater from him but he holds it open, beckoning you to turn around and let him put it on you for you. You sigh but oblige, tucking your arms into the soft wool with his help. His hands smooth down your arms once you’re settled, the familiar sparks following their path. You’re head squeezes with confusion and you want to scream if only to release the pressure.

You turn in his hands, meaning to break his hold but only ending up closer to his chest, “what is going on?”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest. The ache in your heart eases drastically and you breathe in the leather once more. Merlin’s sake, this is exhausting. Even so, your limbs feel lighter in his arms. His eyes burn into yours and you don’t even try to look away, letting him extract whatever information he wants from you. You’re almost sure he can read every thought flashing through your eyes.

“Can’t you feel it?” His hand brushes your cheek, your skin buzzing on cue, “feel us? Like there’s a string pulling you to us, right? We feel warm, don’t we, and you want to be near us. You feel like you know us but you don’t know how or why.”

You find yourself nodding along to the words of a man whose name you don’t even know yet, your hands finding their way to his chest.

“Who are you,” you turn to meet the other two, your eyes wide, “all of you.”

The second man, the one who caught you, steps forward, holding out a hand for you to take. You aren’t sure why but you look back to the male in front of you, the one with his arms still tight around you, for approval. He nods, letting his arms fall almost reluctantly. When he releases you, you’re quickly pulled back into the pine scented chest. You don’t like how easily your body moulds to his, how his body seems to have some sort of claim on yours. How all of their bodies do.

“Elijah,” he rests his chin against your head, caging you against a chest that feels too much like home to make any sense, “I’m Elijah. You were just talking to Kol and Klaus-”

The hands, the same ones from before, once again rest on your back, drawing a traitorous sigh from your lips, “is right behind you, love, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart squeezes dangerously at his words, letting them fill you with the warmth of his promise. Even if your rationality doesn't accept it for the immediate truth it is, every other part of you does. You pull out of Elijah’s arms and turn to the ocean of a man behind you, throwing your arms around his neck without a second thought. He, too, feels like coming home. He takes no time squeezing you against him and burying his face in your neck. You feel hands behind you move your hair away from your neck and then a nose drawing up the exposed bumps of your spine.

“I don’t understand any of this,” you mumble into Klaus’ shoulder, “I don’t understand what any of this means.”

“Of course you do, darling. You can feel it in your bones,” Kol pushes his nose against your temple, his lips skimming your ear before tugging the lobe between his teeth.

Merlin. His teeth on your skin sends heat pooling in the pit of your belly. You tighten your arms around Klaus, biting back an embarrassing moan as he laughs again. This time the sound echos through your chest and wraps around your heart, grabbing on and refusing to let go. Kol’s lips skim down your jaw, nipping lightly at your throat in a way that is completely inappropriate for a man you just met but you don’t care right now.

Arms wrap around you from behind and you sink back into them, letting Elijah spin you and haul you into his chest. Your head is spinning from how quickly you’re being passed around by men you don’t know. Your heart stings slightly, the comfort you feel in the large male’s arms screaming at you. Perhaps you don’t know them but your body has been waiting centuries for them and is more than ready to reunite. You don’t hesitate to wrap your legs around him.

“Baby,” your heart stutters and his pupils expand like he can hear it, “do you mind if we go back to our dorm before anyone sees us?” Elijah glances over your head, searching around the courtyard before landing back on yours, “This is a lot to explain to one person, let alone the whole school.”

Your cheeks flame for the millionth time and your head whips around, searching the courtyard yourself for any prying eyes. You breathe a quick sigh of relief when you don’t see anyone. He’s right and, besides, you really are freezing now, your exposed legs two icicles.

You smile gently at him, savouring the way his eyes draw to your lips, “that’s probably a good idea.”

You go to unwrap your legs from his hips when he stops you, his hands tightening around your back and thighs, “may I?”

Your eyes widen, your hands stilling on his shoulders, “you want to carry me?”

He leans his forehead against yours, his nose brushing yours gently, “very much so, baby.”

Your heart feels like it restarts, kicking your pulse into overdrive. You don’t trust yourself to speak, your entire body engulfed in pine and flames like a forest fire that you never knew could exist. You just nod, your arms snaking around his neck and pulling you flush against his chest. You can feel every breath he takes, closing your eyes when he begins walking.

The hallways, thankfully, feel empty and you don’t open your eyes, letting yourself sink into Elijah’s chest like you’ve been doing it your whole life and this isn’t your first experience being held by someone as large and strong as him. Your fingers, laying on the back of his neck, can’t resist shuffling through his hair. You’re already in his arms anyway, so what’s the harm. Just as you thought, his hair is soft to the touch and mesmerizing. You tangle your fingers through it, the last dregs of anxiety seeping from your bones.

When he starts down a staircase that you aren’t anticipating you tighten your fingers, squeezing your thighs to keep from falling out of his arms. In turn Elijah releases a breathy groan, one that hits you directly between your thighs. When you open your eyes you’re met with a coal black instead of the warm brown from minutes ago. Your breath catches in your throat but not from fear, albeit it should be. You know you should be painfully afraid of this man, whom you barely know, whose arms are wrapped around you so tight it almost hurts, but you aren’t. Not even a little bit.

Not even when he opens his mouth and you see two, very sharp looking fangs poking out of his gums, “Eli?”

You don’t know where the nickname comes from and, honestly, you don’t care. All you can think about is the irrational heat growing between your legs and his hands, once again squeezing your hips. Who is this man and why do you want him to press you against the stairs and do unspeakable things to you? You look over his shoulders at Kol and Klaus, whose eyes aren’t quite the same charcoal as Elijah’s but definitely not the sunshine whiskey that they were before. You have to bite your lip again to keep from squeezing your legs harder around Elijah.

“Come on,” Klaus steps ahead of you and Elijah, glancing back over his shoulder and smirking teasingly, “I can hear people leaving the Great Hall.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him. How can he possibly hear the Great Hall from here? You glance back to Elijah, the sight of his fangs flashing through your mind. You shake your head, not wanting to think about any of this right now. You reach a hand up, cupping his jaw and running your thumb over his cheek like any of this at all is normal.

“Klaus is right, Eli. We need to figure this out before it gets around the school.” More than it already is, you add in your head.

The four of you somehow make it to their dorm and you breathe a sigh of relief when it’s segregated from the rest of the dorms. McGonagall probably gave them their own dorm to make them feel more comfortable. You’re just thankful to be away from the open space. You already know the entire school will be talking about what happened. Merlin why is it always you? You’re just a Hufflepuff, you didn’t sign up for any of this.

Their dorm is magnificent. The doorway leads into a moody common room, surrounded with cozy browns and greens. The walls are lined with bookshelves and there’s a window looking out into the lake. The waves lap against the glass and you giggle as a few fish swim by, stopping to look into the room and then continue on their way. The room smells like all three of them. Like every plain of earth and sea and air. There are four doors leading to what you can only assume are their bedrooms and bathroom. Compared to your dorm, which you love but also share with five other girls, this place is an oasis.

Elijah sets you on an incredibly soft, brown leather couch and you pull your legs up, tucking them underneath you. Kol settles next to you, his arm resting on the back of the couch, behind your head. Klaus sits on your other side, pulling your legs from under you and over his lap, his hands rubbing circles on your calves. With your back now to Kol, you can’t help but let your head fall to the side against his arm, soaking in the warmth of his skin. The dungeons are colder than you thought they would be. How do the Slytherins do it? He laughs quietly, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you to lay against his chest.

Elijah settles on the coffee table in front of the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring at you with a look only slightly less hot than before. You hold a hand out for him, one he quickly takes, threading his fingers between yours, pulling your knuckles to his lips. Klaus’ hands are slowly working up your legs, now wrapped around your knees and steadily moving higher. You squeeze your eyes tight before opening them and staring at the ceiling, avoiding three pairs of brown eyes to the best of your ability.

You sigh gently, leaning into Kol’s hands as his fingers search through your hair, scratching at your scalp in a way that makes you almost keep your thoughts to yourself if only to ensure he doesn’t stop. But you need answers now.

“Okay, I’m serious this time,” your eyes train on a bookshelf, counting the books to keep yourself focussed, “who are you? You clearly aren’t like me, you aren’t witches, but you definitely aren’t regular people,” you suck in a breath, your eyes stalling on a thick book titled The History of Mythical Creatures, “so what, pray tell, are you?”

Your eyes stay focussed on the book but you don’t want to entertain the thoughts flowing through your mind. You had to read that volume in your seventh year myth class. Just because you’re a witch it doesn’t mean you’re used to the creatures you’re taught about. There’s a reason every student at Hogwarts takes eight years of defensive magic.

“You got us, little witch,” Klaus’ hands are above your knees now, kneading your exposed flesh with skilled fingers, “clever and beautiful. The perfect mate.”

Your eyes snap from the bookshelf, from the book that you know holds the answer to their identity, to the blonde lazily licking his own extended fangs. Mate. Did he just say mate? There’s no way he just said mate. Impossible. You’re a witch. As far as being mythical goes, you’re as close to normal as it gets. They, however, are something stronger. You can feel the power rolling off of them.

“I,” your mouth falls open, your mind spinning, “what?”

Kol laughs from behind you, his chest rumbling under your back. He pulls your hair to the side again before capturing your ear with his mouth again.

“You heard him, darling,” he tugs your earlobe between his teeth, pulling a tiny gasp from you as, “your ours. And, I hate to break it to you, but we’re pretty hard to get rid of. ”

Klaus’ hands squeeze right below the hem of your kilt, lighting your skin with the delicious sparks. If his hands weren’t there you would be squeezing your legs together for sure.

“He’s right, love, I’ve tried. Many times,” Klaus smirks at Kol in only the way an older brother could and it hits you.

“Oh, Merlin,” you close your eyes again, heat flaring across your face, “you’re brothers. All three of you are brothers. What is going on, Helga help me.”

All three of them laugh and Elijah kisses your knuckles again, “yes baby, we are in fact brothers. It’s been a long millennium.”

“Millenium?” You feel faint.

He laughs again and you wish you could pluck the sound out of the air and hold onto it for the rest of your life. When you look at him all you can do is smile and run a hand down your face. A thousand years, huh? Klaus’ hands trace lazy circles on your inner thighs as Kol’s lips find your neck, his teeth scraping your skin in a way that has you sinking even further into his buttery leather arms. When he bites down a touch harder you can’t help but wonder what kind of experience a thousand years would allow a person.

A thousand years. Your chest stings unexpectedly as another thought hits you. It must be the day for that.

“I don’t think I’ll live a millenium. I probably have a few hundred years but a thousand? Not even close,” your heart stutters, a cold chill running over you, “You’ll all outlive me.”

Three growls sound in the room and you almost jump out of your skin in shock before you realize that they’re coming from them. Kol tightens his arms around you protectively as Klaus’ hands find your hips under your kilt, squeezing you like you just suggested you’re going to die tomorrow. Elijah drops from the coffee table, sinking to his knees in front of you and throwing an arm over your stomach.

“You’ll be living a lot longer than that, baby, I assure you of that.”

You reach a hand towards Elijah, curling your fingers through his hair on instinct, “I may be magic, Eli, but I’m not immortal. It’s not the same for me.”

He leans into your palm, rubbing his cheek against your fingertips, “that’s an easy fix.”

Your head spins, the pieces connecting in your head as you stare into his serious eyes. For the first time all night a tinge of fear zaps your chest. Immortality is no joke.

“You want me to become like you?” You look away from him and Klaus, who nods in agreement with his brother, “You want me to become a-”

Kol nips the back of your neck and you try to ignore the pleasure rolling through you in the midst of the most serious conversation of your life, “a vampire, darling. You can say it. We’re vampires.”

The word echoes through you, bouncing around your head and lungs, fluttering in your stomach before finally settling directly between your thighs. Merlin. You sit upright quickly, pulling your legs from Klaus’ dangerously skilled fingers, and all but stumble over Elijah and the coffee table in order to put some distance between you and the brothers. You scrub your hands over your face, your entire body feeling more alive than it ever has in your short lifetime. But you know it can’t last.

You keep your hands over your eyes, letting the open air sooth you for a moment before speaking, “I’m just a witch. Just one witch and not even a good one at that,” you peel your hands from your eyes, opting instead to tug your hair, “I’m more of a farmer, honestly. I spend all my time in the library or the greenhouses. I’m not mate material. I’m definitely not,” you swallow thickly, your throat closing all of a sudden and without your permission, “vampire material. You have the wrong girl.”

As soon as you say the words they feel wrong but they’re already out of your mouth and you have to live with them now. For a long moment nobody says anything. It’s just you standing in front of them, your eyes refusing to open and your hands ripping at your hair. Your legs tremble beneath you and it feels like your heart is trying to crawl out of your throat. If it can’t be with them then it would rather stop beating altogether. The cold air of their dungeon dorm nips at your legs and fingertips painfully and you revel in the feeling of something other than the torrent of emotions that you’ve been battling for the better half of an hour.

You feel a rush of air in front of you, forcing your eyes open just in time to see Kol standing in front of you. You open your mouth, ready to let even more words that you know you’ll regret out, but you find that you can’t speak. Not because you don’t want to, though, but because Kol’s mouth is now crashing into yours and, gods, does it ever feel like you’re breathing for the first time. Kol’s mouth is oxygen. Like before this moment you were dead and his lips are life. You grip his shoulders, your fingers digging into the taught muscle to keep yourself upright against this force of nature.

His hands wrap in your hair and he tugs gently, swallowing each moan like it’s candy and he can’t get enough. Your hands crawl from his shoulders to his hair, doing the same to him. He groans, a sound completely different from Elijah but so similar at the same time. When his tongue finds its way between your lips you see stars. Your blood sings like you’ve walked through a magnetic field, your veins buzzing with a foreign kind of power. This time you don’t feel like you’re home, you know you are.

Kol pulls back a fraction, his lips brushing yours while he speaks, “you feel that?” His hands move to your cheeks, your skin like a current where he touches you, “I know you do, I know you feel me in your veins, darling. I don’t have the wrong person. Fate doesn’t make mistakes. You’re perfect for me.”

Your eyes widen and you push back the swell of emotion rising in your chest.

A pair of arms wraps around you from behind, a riptide pulling you into an ocean of a man, “me as well, my little witch. Besides, I quite like farmers. Tell me, can you grow strawberries?”

You try to stop yourself from sagging against his chest but you can’t and you don’t actually want to. His head falls on yours as if he’s been doing it for years.

“Pumpkins,” you whisper. You don’t know what else to say, knowing full well you aren’t ready to answer the other questions, “I grow the best pumpkins in the school.”

Klaus’ chest rumbles like a cat purring against your back, “pumpkin pie it is then, love.”

You feel a hand close around your arm, pulling you from both Kol and Klaus and into a pair of arms that rival the dark forest. Elijah lifts you against his chest, giving you a moment to wrap your legs around him before he walks the two of you to the window. He looks out in the water and it eases you knowing that you don’t have to answer to his molten brown eyes.

“I know this is a lot to take in right now, baby. I know you’re scared and tired, I can feel it. You don’t have to make any decisions right now. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t. But just know that we’re here because something stronger than time itself brought us to you. No mistakes were made,” he catches your eyes through the reflection of the glass, “I’m ready for whatever challenges this brings. I’ve been ready for a thousand years, ten lifetimes, and I would wait fifty more for you,” he pulls you further up his chest, pressing his forehead against yours, “just think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”

You can’t stop yourself from pressing your lips against his, catching his bottom lip between yours, “graduation.”

He pulls back, his eyes wide and his eyebrows scrunched together, “what?”

You pull his face back to yours, stealing another kiss that he doesn’t hesitate to return, “I just need until graduation. I need to finish my last year here, it’s my home. After that, I’m yours.”

He crushes you against him as soon as the last syllable leaves your lips and you let yourself giggle freely. He looks at you in awe, a smile blooming across his face like he just won the lottery. Kol and Klaus are next to you in an instant, their faces almost mirror images of Elijah’s. Your heart soars at the sight of the three boys you met less than three hours ago who you’ve just promised the rest of your life, and longer, to. It sounds ridiculous still but nothing has ever felt so right.

“Well, brothers,” Klaus’ eyes shine happily, “it looks like we’re going to be here longer than we thought.”

#the originals #to #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson imagine #Kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #Harry Potter #hogwarts #hufflepuff reader #hufflepuff #tvd #the vampire diaries

362 notes · View notes

samnyangie · 3 years

Text

Since people liked rsl interview on dps, I’d like to share one of my favourite interview by him. I think it’s one of those rare interview where he wasn’t joking around that much but discuss acting quite seriously haha

So enjoy:DD

(Credit)

____________________________

1990 New York Times

Young Actor's Life Has the Makings of a Movie

by Lynn Mautner

New York Times

May 20, 1990

It would make a good movie. A 15-year-old sophomore at Ridgewood High School is playing the Artful Dodger in the musical ''Oliver'' with the school's theater group, New Players, when he is discovered by a casting agency secretary and whisked off to Broadway and the movies.

That's exactly what happened to Robert Sean Leonard, now 21, and a star of the 1989 film ''Dead Poets Society,'' which received an Oscar for best original screenplay.

''My mother took me to New Players' summer performances when I was 10,'' he said, ''and I loved the camaraderie of people, rehearsing and singing. I began spending more time there, painting signs and moving furniture, and soon became an element of the company, with small roles in 'The Miracle Worker,' 'Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,' 'Barnum.' ''

Starting as an understudy for three roles at the New York Public Theater (he never got on stage), Mr. Leonard amassed credits that include ''The Beach House'' with George Grizzard for the Circle Repertory Theater, television movies, ''Brighton Beach Memoirs'' and ''Breaking the Code'' on Broadway, plays at the West Bank Cafe on 42d Street and the recent ''When She Danced'' at Playwrights Horizons.

He has just completed a part as Paul Newman's and Joanne Woodward's son in the movie ''Mr. and Mrs. Bridge,'' filmed in Kansas City, to be released in August. ''I age from a 15-year-old Eagle Scout to 22, coming home from World War II with a mustache,'' Mr. Leonard said.

Mr. Leonard, who received a general equivalency diploma when he was 17, lives in New York City and attends Fordham University between performances. Soon to return from the Cannes Film Festival with his fellow actors in ''Dead Poets,'' he is next scheduled to go into rehearsal for the film ''Married to It,'' a romantic comedy.

Q. Do you remember when you decided on an acting career?

A. I never decided to pursue an acting career. It just has happened. I still think it's going to stop and I'll have to get a real job soon, but I'm afraid to question it because if I do, it will disappear.

Q. How do you think your theater experience in high school has helped you?

A. It was a great teaching experience that prepared me in a lot of ways. We did 10 shows in 10 weeks, so there was no time to think about method. It was running for the stage, hoping you'll make it in time for your entrance. In Steven Soderbergh's new book of his diaries when directing the film ''Sex, Lies and Videotape,'' he said that on a film set there should always be a chain of command, but never a chain of respect.

At New Players, those three to four years, everyone was given the same respect. You had to, because you'd be the lead one week and painting sets the next. That's a luxury that is not available in New York, unfortunately, because of the unions. You're an actor and that's it.

Q. Have you taken any acting lessons? Do you recommend them for others?

A. I've taken two classes - a video acting class to help me get from stage to film, with Marty Winkler, currently my manager, and an acting class at H. B. Studios.

Acting classes are tricky. It's like asking someone in therapy if they'd recommend going to a psychiatrist. For some people it's great; for some it's not necessary; for some it's harmful. The best way to learn acting is just to do it.

There's a danger to the classroom, because it's safe, and you can get addicted to it. The clique of people are there, and you might tend to remain with them and never go out on your own. So it can give you the safety net which can eventually strip away your courage to go out and really try. On the other hand, you can get a wonderful teacher who brings out the best in you and gives you the courage to go out and dazzle everybody.

Q. You went from high school to Off Broadway. What were your feelings and fears during your first professional performance?

A. The first time I performed in New York - in ''Sally's Gone, She Left Her Name'' - I played Michael Learned's son. I think I was too young. I wasn't even aware of reasons to be afraid. I was just there for the fun of it. Fresh out of New Players, I knew it to be fun. I've never worried about lines. In ''Brighton Beach'' I should have been tense, because it was Broadway. I was nervous, but not racked - more excited.

Q. What do you enjoy most about acting?

A. The people, and opportunities to learn, to travel, both physically and emotionally. To look at people other than myself and try to figure out what makes them tick.

Olivier said you never play a villain; you play a man considered to be a villain; that you have to justify everything he does first; you have to know that what you are doing is right and find a way to make it right - even murder.

I just played a conceited piano player in ''When She Danced,'' and I had to figure out what would make a person be conceited and make that O.K. with me. I learned where conceit comes from - from confidence and talent.

Worst thing you can do is play someone and judge him at the same time, saying: ''Here I am. I am so conceited.'' First you have to understand why you're that way so that people interpret you as conceited.

Q. Do you consider acting an escape?

A. I don't look at performing as escaping, as really becoming another person and leaving my problems for two hours, so I don't have to deal with me, because I don't become another person. I work, so that when I am working, in a way it is me at my best. I'm not leaving myself; in fact, I'm more focused on myself than ever. I don't become that person, but I fully understand him, fully explore him, as to why he does what he does and justify it.

You can't play a fool to play Bottom, who's the opposite of fool in Shakespeare's ''Midsummer Night's Dream.'' What makes people fools is that they're completely confident in what they're doing. They don't think they're fools; they think they're right on track, which makes them so funny and makes them look like fools.

Q. Who influenced you the most?

A. I have not had one person or experience that stands out that's a turning point. Every step in acting relies heavily on the one before. Everything I've learned colors everything I have known before, and suddenly changes it.

I have learned a little bit from everyone I have known, whether about acting itself, or living and working as an actor. Like a good detective novel, for every clue that is solved, two more appear. Every time I learn something, it opens two other doors. In ''Dead Poets,'' the rooftop scene, where I throw the desk set off, was improvised. Are instincts then a part of acting?

Q. Are there desirable qualities to have as an actor?

A. Concentration, perseverence, lack of inhibitions. There's no room for self-consciousness on stage. Also, there is an element in acting that is not fair. Whatever talent is, part of it can be learned and part can't. There are people that audiences like to watch or don't. In Soderbergh's book, he says that talent plus perseverance will equal luck. But I don't know what talent is; it is beyond definition.

Q. Do you learn by watching other films and plays? Your own? Other people?

A. Sometimes I watch for directing; sometimes for performing. There are lines in ''Dead Poets'' I would do differently, if given the chance. For example, Todd said: ''You talk and people listen to you, Neil. I am not like that.'' I answer, ''Don't you think you could be?'' I think I could have made it clearer. I don't get much from observing strangers, because although I see what they do, I don't know where they're coming from.

Q. What are the main differences between stage and film work?

A. I feel that as an actor, you should start in theater, to learn the process of creating a character, in rehearsal. Film is an arena for people who already know that, because on the set they expect you to know the character inside out.

Film work is harder, because this tangible part has to happen in your head before filming takes place. And it's more solitary. You create your character alone, without the give-and-take of other actors.

Q. What tips would you give young, aspiring actors?

A. Read plays aloud with friends at home; do any work you can do in high school. Hang out with jocks, leatherheads, and see what makes them work. Don't be a theater rat and only talk to actors. Read a lot. You really have to feel it; really want it; then take it. Don't take no for an answer. Seize the day.

___________________________

There’s another one I really want to share as well, I’ll bring it with me at some point:))

#robert sean leonard #rsl #theatre #acting #interview #I love how he ended the interview with seize the day

35 notes · View notes

xerxia31 · 4 years

Text

the Big Bang - an Everlark ficlet

Inspired by a story I read on CNN, that I couldn’t get out of my head. A warning - there are shades of dub-con here that may be disturbing to some readers. Rated M.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Peeta Mellark was fit to be tied.

“I don’t know what you want me to say here, boy,” Haymitch drawled. “You knew where these characters were heading when you signed on.”

“Come on, Haymitch,” Peeta growled. He was standing in Haymitch Abernathy’s office, holding the week’s script while Haymitch, head writer and executive producer of the hit series The Arena, in which Peeta starred, stared at him from under a mop of greasy, overlong hair. Until now, Peeta had loved working on the show, loved the ensemble cast, loved the interesting storylines and well-written scripts.

But not today.

“They’ve been growing together slowly for three damned seasons and now, this week, bam!” Peeta clapped his hands for emphasis, “out of nowhere you have three fucking sex scenes in the script.” For three seasons the show had been teasing a relationship between the character Peeta played, macho FBI agent Barley St James, and his shy, brainy colleague, Allium Winterland. It was a fantastic story, well paced, the dialogue between them always fun. Nearly three years they’d been teasing the audience with it.

And now this week’s script turned everything on it’s head. “You’re just screwing with us.” There was no way the timing was coincidental. Because the actress who played Allium, the actress he’d be stripping down to his skivvies and dry-humping with on national television? She was none other than his now-ex-girlfriend.

Haymitch glanced away. Peeta thought it was in shame until Haymitch spoke.

“You might as well come in, Sweetheart,” Haymitch said, and Peeta spun to look behind him. “We were talking about you.”

Katniss Everdeen was standing just outside Haymitch’s open door. It was the first time Peeta had laid eyes on her in the flesh in two weeks. Two fucking weeks! He hadn’t seen her since the night she walked out of their house.

He knew where she’d gone though, the whole fucking world did. All of the gossip rags, and even the more reputable news sites, were reporting how her on again off again affair with one Gale Hawthorne, star of multiple movie franchises and People magazine’s sexiest man alive 2018, was definitely on again.

“Story of my life,” Katniss muttered as she walked the rest of the way through the door, schooling her expression into a dispassionate scowl as she did. Peeta had no idea why she went into acting, he could read her every emotion through the impassive mask. He always could. Today was no exception, her mask might be in place, but her eyes were flashing with fury, and something that looked suspiciously like hurt.

She didn’t acknowledge Peeta at all, striding into the room on silent feet and stopping a solid six feet away. Her arms were crossed protectively over her chest, but her copy of the script was clenched in one fist. No doubt she’d been planning on storming in here to blast Haymitch. But Peeta beat her to it.

“Save your breath, Sweetheart,” Haymitch said. “Like I told the boy, you knew this was coming.”

“It’s fine,” she said, shooting a cool look in Peeta’s direction. “I’m a professional.” Then she turned, and strutted back out the door, back straight, long, black braid swinging. He could only watch, jaw clenched.

“Brrr,” Haymitch said. “You two have got a lot of warming up to do before showtime.” He was right, of course, and Peeta knew it. The audience would be expecting a pair of lovebirds. Not two people who could barely look each other in the eye.

“Whatever,” Peeta grunted. She wanted to play it that way? He could be cold too.

o-o-o

The table read went smooth as silk. Katniss sat on one side of the room, chatting lightly with their costar Delly Cartwright between scenes, Peeta sat on the other, joking with Cressida Faulkner, who was directing that week’s episode. Most of the cast had no clue Peeta and Katniss had broken up, because most of them never knew they’d been an item at all. Haymitch had figured it out somehow, clearly, but none of the other cast noticed anything was amiss.

The following day’s rehearsal, not so much. Rehearsals were always in costume and filmed, so that the production team could splice in any good bits that came out of them. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in TV, especially in a weekly series where time was tight. Peeta was used to it.

His first few scenes were fine, his lines came easily, he hit every mark. Then came the first scene he and Katniss shared that week, the one that led up to the first of the three fucking sex scenes.

She walked onto the set, and Peeta’s heart did a slow tumble in his chest. She was utterly beautiful, her hair loose and flowing, and wearing a dress patterned with autumn leaves. Soft orange, his favourite colour.

The colour of heartbreak.

They both stumbled through their lines, avoiding each other's eyes, interacting stiffing and unnaturally. Cressida halted the scene over and over again. It was a huge drag on the rest of the cast, slowing down everything.

Peeta’s only solace was that Katniss looked as miserable as he felt.

Peeta left as soon as rehearsal ended and headed for the gym. The call sheet had them both in an evening meeting at the studio, and he was going to need to work off some steam before he faced her again.

He should have asked, though, what the meeting was about. Because when he got back to the studio he found Katniss, dressed in leggings and a tiny little tank top, her face bare and so pretty, sitting cross-legged on a gym mat and chatting with a willowy brunette who gave off crunchy granola vibes. “Did I miss the memo about mandatory yoga?” he drawled.

Katniss scowled, but the brunette smiled beatifically. “Hello Mr. Mellark,” she said softly, her voice like windchimes, musical and irritating. “I’m Annie Cresta, your intimacy coordinator.”

Peeta was too confused to make a joke. “My what now?”

Annie laughed. “Intimacy coordinator,” she repeated. “It’s my job to choreograph simulated sex scenes for actors.”

“I think we know how sex works,” Peeta grumbled, and Katniss flushed, obvious without the stage makeup caked on her skin, then looked down at her lap. But Annie was undeterred.

“Of course,” she said gently. “But it’s about more than just choreography. It’s about helping you both to be comfortable, about navigating respect and consent and keeping the set safe.”

Peeta had heard about this, once before maybe, in the wake of the #metoo movement. But he’d never worked with one before. Katniss must have requested it. Figured she couldn’t even trust him to be a professional on the set. “With all due respect, Ms. Cresta,” Peeta said. “I don’t think we need this. We’ve both filmed scenes like this before.” Not with each other, but that was a minor point.

Katniss, to his surprise, looked inclined to agree. Annie just smiled.

“Not negotiable, I’m afraid,” she said. “All of Panem Entertainment’s productions must have an intimacy coordinator on set.” Peeta frowned, they were in the third season of filming, he’d never seen Annie before. As if reading his mind, she nodded. “I worked with Thresh Watts and Rue Lamonte last year.” That scene had been filmed on a closed set, Peeta had seen the finished product, but not any of the lead-up, and it hadn’t occurred to him at the time to ask about it.

Peeta sighed, and resigned himself to having a stranger teach him how to have fake sex with his real ex-girlfriend.

“Have a seat,” Annie said, indicating the mat beside Katniss. Peeta gritted his teeth, but he sat, his knee brushing hers.

She didn’t react.

“Now,” Annie said. “Communication is key.” Peeta snorted, and Katniss scowled at him. Communication. With the woman who had spoken a single word to him in the past 15 days. Sure. "The most important thing is that the people involved feel safe.”

“Why would we feel unsafe?” Peeta interrupted. There was a Cubs game on TV tonight, he’d rather be watching that.

Annie was unperturbed. “You're revealing a lot in a scene, you're going to places where you're vulnerable, and that requires an awful lot of trust," she said, looking pointedly between Peeta and Katniss. He wondered with some annoyance just how much Katniss had revealed to Annie about their situation before he’d walked in. “I have the script, and an outline of how your director wants it to look. But you two will need to talk with each other and with me and say, 'What are you comfortable with? What are you not comfortable with?'”

“I don’t want kissing,” Katniss blurted, then flushed again. “I mean,” she amended, “I’m not sure I can concentrate on both that and lines and choreography.” Peeta knew that was bullshit, in three seasons he could count on one hand the number of times Katniss had forgotten a line or missed a mark.

She just didn’t want to kiss him. And it stung.

Annie nodded. “We can work around that,” she said. “There will need to be some close up shots of you kissing, but they can be filmed separately from the simulated sex.”

Great, Peeta thought. Their characters had kissed a lot over the past three seasons, but that had been easy. They were both professionals, and kissing Katniss for the camera had been no big deal. Fun, even, in a comfortable, familiar way. Never sexual, there was always too much lipstick and stage makeup to worry about for there ever to be more than a peck. But steady, and comforting.

He doubted it’d be like that now. Or ever again.

“Let’s start with directorial expectations,” Annie began. “I’ve been given a timeline for the scenes and an outline of the specific angles that are expected. The most challenging part, from an intimacy perspective, is likely to be the third, which will be shot side angle with you, Peeta, on top of Katniss and no sheets to shield anything. We’ll have to block arms and leg placements carefully, and it’s likely you’ll both feel very vulnerable.”

Peeta didn’t see how that would be difficult, yet when Annie positioned him kneeling between Katniss’s thighs, a ridiculous little brocade cushion between their bodies, it was incredibly awkward. Katniss couldn’t hide in this position, with their faces only inches apart, and he couldn’t ignore, looking into her silver eyes, just how much he’d lost.

Two hours of rolling around on the floor, blocking arm and hand and leg movements sucked any sexy out of the scene. It felt robotic and contrived and awkward as hell. Katniss, for her part, looked fucking miserable. “Well,” Annie said finally. “I’m sensing some discomfort, so I think we should close for the evening.”

Peeta rolled onto his back on the mat and stared at the ceiling. Why was this so fucking hard? He was an actor, for god’s sake. He’d filmed sex scenes before, and none of them felt this shitty.

“I think we could do with a couple more rehearsals,” Annie said. “I’ll ask Cressida to schedule some.” Just fucking great, Peeta thought.

Annie floated away like an ethereal being. Katniss hung back, maybe to talk with him, maybe just to avoid Annie. But he wasn’t in the mood. He’d been subjected to her stony silences for two days, his heart hurt and his pride was dented and he just needed to get out and lick his wounds.

“Peeta,” Katniss said softly. Peeta held up his hand.

“Not now,” was all he said.

She scowled. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Peeta almost leapt to his feet, his exhaustion morphing into rage. “Look, you haven’t said a damned word to me in weeks, you haven’t even come home for your things, and now you want to talk?” Peeta spat, cringing internally at his use of the word home to describe the house where they’d been living together until two weeks ago.

Katniss looked puzzled, under all of that anger. “Jo said you threw everything away.” Johanna Mason was a mutual… well... not quite friend. Peeta had often accompanied her to awards shows, in the early days of her career when she was concerned that if it got out that she preferred women, it would stop her from getting leading lady roles. She didn’t need to worry about that anymore, she was a bonafide A-lister these days, and her relationship with an adorably bubbly talk show host was in every magazine. But Jo generally had her own unknowable agenda and sometimes she liked to stir up shit just for fun.

“You think I’d do that?” he asked, voice deceptively soft. He might have thought about it, fantasized about it really, when he found out who she was staying with. But he had more dignity than that, and she damned well should know it.

In fact, everything was exactly as she’d left it when she stomped out of their home, out of his life, 15 days ago. Her toothbrush was beside the bathroom sink, her favourite sweater on her favourite chair. A shabby silver-framed picture of her parents nestled between their awards. All of the homey pieces of her life, all of her simple treasures, abandoned.

Katniss shrugged, like she didn’t care, like his worth, his honour, the life they’d built together, was inconsequential, and it just pissed Peeta off more. He hated her ice princess routine, hated how fucking above it all she was. She’d always been good at freezing him out, at making him chase her, but no more. He didn’t have to put up with her stone cold shit.

“Get you crap or I will toss it,” he seethed, walking away. She didn’t call after him, but then she never did.

o-o-o

Haymitch dropped two of the three sex scenes from the script. Peeta should have been relieved, he was relieved. But he also felt sick about it. Like he was destroying his career.

The tension on set was obvious and palpable now, and he knew it looked like he was the cause. Katniss, always quiet, remained quiet. But Peeta couldn’t fake it, once the cameras stopped. Cold didn’t come naturally to him, and too often he veered into mean and snappish.

He had to figure out a way to get past this, to get past his anger, his hurt, and work with Katniss again. But he had no idea how.

Peeta leaned back in his favourite club chair, in the cozy den at the back of his house, and allowed himself to relive that day, the day it had all come crashing down. Until then, he’d thought he had it all, had the world in the palm of his hand. A great job, a comfortable home and the most radiant woman in the world in his bed every night.

Katniss Everdeen had been a child star on a hugely popular sitcom. He knew her only by name when she showed up to screen test with him. He’d been expecting a cute little moppet. Instead, she was a silver-eyed stunner. And right off the bat, he was a goner.

They clicked, in almost every way. Working together was a joy, chatting together between takes a delight. He loved her intelligence and wry sense of humour. They moved from friends to more at breakneck speed, but it never felt too fast.

She was insistent that they keep a lid on their relationship, even when they eventually moved in together. He understood it, her previous relationship, also with a costar, had been documented to death, she’d been hounded and harassed by the paparazzi constantly, even now they followed her everywhere. He didn’t love keeping them a secret, but he loved Katniss, so he acquiesced.

And that day, the day it all fell apart? It was supposed to be a good day, a great day. The first day of their two-week mid-season filming break. They had grand plans to do nothing but each other. Peeta had run a few errands, then stopped by his agent’s office to sign a couple of endorsement contracts.

That’s when the shit started.

“I figured you’d want to hear it from me first,” Finnick Odair, the best agent in the business, said with a grimace. He handed Peeta a tablet. Loaded up was the National Enquirer, his mother’s smirking face beside a promotional shot of Peeta and Katniss, and the headline, ‘It’s Real’. His fucking mother had struck again. It wasn’t the first time she’d sold Peeta out to the tabloids.

“Shit,” Peeta murmured. Not because the headline wasn’t true, it was. But Katniss guarded her privacy with clenched fists, and for two years, they’d barely let anyone in on their secret. Finn knew, but he was very discreet and like he’d said when Peeta had first hired him, he couldn’t protect Peeta unless he knew all of his secrets.

“She’s going to be pissed, huh?” Finn said sympathetically.

He didn’t know the half of it.

Peeta was in a foul temper and all he wanted was his quiet house and a couple of fingers of scotch before he had to deal with Katniss, who was sure to be furious. But no, he wouldn’t even get that. Because Rye was standing at his front door when he arrived home. Peeta groaned, and parked in front of the house, instead of pulling into the garage, where the door he generally entered by was. They’d chosen this place because the gated community was supposed to offer them more privacy and security. He was going to have to talk with the guard at the gate again. Just because Rye looked like his brother didn’t mean Peeta wanted him here.

“Peet,” Rye said genially as Peeta unlocked the seldom-used front door.

“What do you want, Rye?” Peeta really had no time for his brother’s bullshit, not that day of all days, and he hadn’t bothered hiding his annoyance.

“I can’t just pop by to see my little brother?” Rye never came by unless he wanted something. Often it was money. Rye seldom worked, preferring to live off his association with Peeta There were a lot of people in LA who would wine and dine the families of celebrities, looking for an in. Rye had brought him a few abominable scripts over the years from people who’d promised him a big finders fee if he could get Peeta to sign on.

“Cut to the chase, Rye,” Peeta said impatiently. There was a small liquor cabinet in the living room closest to the front door. Not that they ever lived in this room. It was only for show, the place where outsiders were held, away from the parts of the house where they actually did their living.

“Fine,” Rye laughed. “Tell me it isn’t true, little brother,” he said. There was no point pretending Peeta didn’t know what he was talking about. Rye was a terrible gossip hound. Peeta shook his head. “Thank god,” Rye said. “You can do so much better than that. She’s not very big, and definitely not hot.”

Peeta sighed. Rye’s taste in women only included girls who fawned all over him. Katniss would never make that list.

“Where did Mom come up with that idea anyway?” Rye asked, eyeing the single glass Peeta poured with interest. Peeta was not going to offer him a drink. He wasn’t going to do anything that suggested Rye was welcome to stay. “It’s pretty fucking crazy, even for her.”

“I don’t know,” Peeta grumbled. He knew exactly where. She must have listened in on one of Peeta’s calls with his father. His dad was his best friend, Peeta just couldn’t keep secrets from him. But the old man wasn’t always careful when he talked to Peeta.

“Katniss Everdeen. As fucking if. You have much better taste than that,” Rye laughed. “Remember that chick you were with a couple of years ago? The one who was in Playboy?”

“Cashmere Solomon,” Peeta muttered half under his breath. He’s gone out with her twice, and she’d been a nightmare, only interested in what he could do for her celebrity.

“She was hot,” Rye nodded. “I hooked up with her, after.” That was more than Peeta needed to know.

“Look,” Peeta started, an attempt to get rid of Rye, to get back to his plans for a few quiet minutes before Katniss got home and he’d have to have another, very different conversation on this topic.

“Mom’s a mental case,” Rye interrupted. “Like you’d ever stoop low enough to fuck that Everdeen chick. Stuck up little bitch like that? You’ve got more pride.”

“Are we done?” Peeta was bone weary, and not at all in the mood to listen to one of his brother’s diatribes. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to do tonight.”

“Right, right,” Rye said. Peeta didn’t give a damn whether his brother believed him or not. He started to guide Rye back to the entryway. “I don’t know how Hawthorne puts up with her, “ Rye said. “Rumour has it she’s completely frigid.”

Peeta laughed, he couldn’t help it. Katniss was the furthest thing in the world from frigid, she was a live wire in bed, far and away the best sex of his life. And she had broken up with Gale Hawthorne some four years earlier, but the media still wrote about them as if they were just taking a break.

“Listen,” Rye said, though Peeta was already shepherding him towards the door. “I know this girl, Glimmer her name is. Tits for miles! She’s working on a pilot.” Working on a pilot was LA code for unemployed. “She’s so hot,” Rye continued, oblivious to Peeta’s irritation, “spend a little time with her, I’ll get my pap friend to follow you. That’ll make the Enquirer story go away. Kill any hint of association with that little piece of work.”

“Bye, Rye, Peeta said, pushing his brother through the door.

“Call me,” Rye said, and Peeta slammed the door in his face, flipping the bolt. Idiot. He exhaled slowly, then turned.

Katniss was standing behind him. Shit. How much of Rye’s crap had she heard?

“How could you let him talk about me that way,” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Peeta cringed. Evidently most of it. “What was I supposed to say? You don’t want him to know we’re together.”

“We have to be together for you to defend me?” Katniss asked, incredulous. “Women are only worth defending if you’re fucking them?”

Peeta rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that bullshit,” he said. “You know I’m not like that.”

“Do I?” Katniss was pacing, little mincing steps that would fit on a pie plate. “Sure as hell didn’t sound like it.”

“What was I supposed to say?” Peeta was yelling. He flung his arms wide, expensive scotch sloshed over the edge of his glass, splashed his watch. Just great.

“How about ‘Katniss isn’t a stuck up little bitch’ for starters?”

“Jesus, Katniss, why do you even care? You know he’s an asshole.”

“He said awful things about me, in my own home, and you just stood there and nodded, like you agreed,” Katniss snapped. “That was a total dick move.”

“Well excuse-fucking-me,” Peeta said, “but it’s not even your house.” She lived there, but the lease was in his name. Her official address was an empty condo in Van Nuys, so that people wouldn’t figure out they were shacked up together. He hated the cloak and dagger bullshit, but she’d insisted.

Katniss froze, face twisted in disgust. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “It’s not.”

Before Peeta even had a chance to respond, the door was slamming behind her.

Peeta knew, even before she’d gotten to her car, that he was wrong. But he was angry, angry with his mother, angry with his brother, and pissed as hell that Katniss insisted on hiding, like he was some dirty secret instead of the man she’d been dating for two years.

She didn’t come home that evening. Peeta wasn’t completely surprised. It wasn’t the first time she’d frozen him out. He’d give her the night, then apologize in the morning.

But when morning came, his phone had blown up with texts. TMZ was running a spread of pictures, grainy and obviously through a long lens. Katniss, standing on a balcony, and not alone. With her was Gale-fucking-Hawthorne, her ex. She was locked in his embrace wearing only a robe, while he was in boxers. The gossip sites were having a field day, former lovers reunited.

Peeta, still in bed, dialed his phone. She answered on the second ring, voice hoarse. “Are you with Gale?” Peeta asked with no preamble.

There was the slightest of pauses. “Yes,” Katniss said.

“You couldn’t fucking wait to go rushing back to his bed?” Peeta yelled. “Or maybe you never really left?”

The line died in his hand. It was the last time they’d spoken, until now.

o-o-o

Katniss made no further attempt to talk to Peeta, outside of what they said on the soundstage. She’d doubled down on the ice princess routine, speaking to him in cold, overly formal tones when the cameras weren’t rolling.

Working with Annie Cresta hadn’t gotten any better either, but at least they’d managed to memorise a routine—hand here, thigh there, twist this way, arch like that. Annie insisted it would look a lot more natural than it felt. Peeta wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t care. He just wanted the thing done.

The scene was set for late afternoon, after the rest of principal photography was done for the episode and the lion’s share of cast and crew had left. “Saving the best for last,” Cressida chirped, but no one really believed that.

Katniss had a rider in her contract specifying no nudity, Peeta knew that. He hadn’t bothered with one himself, he didn’t care who saw him, but Katniss had always been uncomfortable baring everything. In other scenes, the production sometimes used a body double for Katniss. But this scene, the scene, would be her and him, on a bed, doing choreographed dry humping. It had to be her, there wasn’t any other choice.

Haymitch wasn’t on set, something Peeta suspected was Katniss’s doing, but he appreciated it. The crew was at a bare minimum, to make it easier for the actors, but it was still a lot of people. Cressida was directing, busily setting up the scene. Two female grips he’d never met before were behind the stationary cameras, two of his favourite camera guys—Castor and Pollox—had the handhelds. Two more grips had the boom mics, a gaffer adjusted the lights, and a set designer, Octavia, was fussing over the bedding, rumpling it in an artistic way that Peeta knew from rehearsal would last about twelve seconds before they destroyed it. Annie, strangely, was nowhere to be seen. He’d thought that, as their intimacy coordinator, she’d be there to coach when they actually filmed. Apparently not.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Cressida called out, affecting a carefree tone. Peeta knew it was an act, an attempt to get all of them to relax. The antagonism and animosity between the two leads wasn’t exactly a secret, not anymore, and the mood on the small soundstage was tense. No one was looking forward to this.

Katniss had seen him naked a thousand times, had touched and stroked and tasted every inch of his body. Still, it was strange, even on a closed set, to be standing in front of her wearing nothing but a sock tied to his dick. She was clutching the edges of her pink silk robe so tightly her knuckles were white, and looking everywhere but at him.

Cinna approached and helped Katniss out of her robe, careful not to disrupt the cascade of windblown curls Peeta knew had likely taken an hour and several cans of product to achieve. Katniss’s hair was naturally pin straight, yet they were always curling it in the show, and she hated it. So focussed was Peeta on her hair that he didn’t notice what she was wearing until Cinna stepped away, leaving Katniss standing beside the bed in a pair of pasties and an adhesive pad that covered her pubic hair and not much else. Peeta couldn’t help but stare. It was far less than he was expecting, Annie had told him Katniss would be wearing a pair of flesh coloured panties and a little tube top over her boobs. “The sides of her underwear showed in the test shots,” Castor muttered in his ear. “Haymitch insisted on that instead.”

For half a minute, Peeta felt really bad for Katniss, knowing her discomfort, knowing what it was costing her to stand under the lights and in front of so many people wearing little more than three bandaids. But then she sighed, and barked, “can we just get this over with?” and any sympathy Peeta felt for her evaporated like spring snow.

The scene opened with them both on the bed. They’d practiced the routine, both on floor mats and on a set bed. But in rehearsal, they’d been clothed, pillows between them to minimise contact.

No longer.

Now, they were essentially naked, skin pressed to skin, staring wide-eyed at each other. She was so soft under him, fit him so perfectly. Her breath—sharp, nervous little pants—caressed his jaw, his throat. Her hands, small but so much stronger than they looked, clutched at this back.

His dick twitched and hardened, he couldn’t fucking help it. They’d fucked a thousand times over the previous two years, he’d always been insanely attracted to her. His dick didn’t know that this time it wasn’t real. He clenched his teeth and kept going. There was no way, positioned as they were, to prevent her from feeling it.

Katniss smirked at him, just a fleeting little hint of amusement, but coupled with his embarrassment at getting turned on when the ice fucking queen clearly felt nothing it was too much. Rage flooded his veins like venom. He sneered down at Katniss, uncaring if the handycam caught his expression. Then he deliberately rocked against her, rubbing his hard cock against her core, only a little strip of fabric and a glorified sock between them.

Her breath caught, a choked little sound.

“Like that, princess?” he spat, lowering his mouth to her ear. “You like knowing that you can still get me hot?”

She moaned softly. It just made him angrier. Was she acting, or actually responding? Was she thinking about Gale while he was grinding against her? Had she always been thinking about him?

The few lines he was supposed to say flew out of his head. “Does your boyfriend get you hot like this?” he groaned instead, anger and lust combining. “Do you moan for him like you did for me?” Her hands, which had been moving through the choreography much more fluidly than in rehearsal suddenly froze. “Does he fill you up as good as I did?”

“Peeta,” Katniss whispered, a hint of warning in her tone. But he was too mad. Mad and heartsick and wildly turned on, it was a potent brew. He couldn’t stop. He ground harder against her, his chest rasping against her breasts, bare but for a pair of stickers. He nipped at her earlobe with sharp teeth, and her gasp was loud over his harsh breaths.

“Do you melt for him, ice princess?” She said nothing, but he didn’t care. He angled his hips and thrust hard, the way he knew she liked. He rocked over and over again, forgetting about the others in the room, lost in Katniss, however fake it might be.

“Do you want to give them a show,” he growled against her throat. “Take off the guard? One last fuck, for old times sake?”

“Stop,” she said, so faintly it was barely a breath. “Please.” Peeta pulled back. Beneath him, Katniss’s eyes were screwed tightly shut, tears leaking from the corners. The anger rushed away, leaving him horrified and utterly ashamed.

He rolled away and climbed off the bed. “Need a break,” he grunted. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Katniss had curled onto her side, facing away, naked and vulnerable. The need to comfort her battled with the sick feeling in his gut over how cruel he’d been. How completely unlike himself.

Cressida called out to him, but he didn’t want to hear whatever she was going to say. Couldn’t stay another minute on that set.

He pushed past Castor who was staring open-mouthed, the camera on his shoulder still blinking as it ran, and stomped to his dressing room. There, he sank into a chair, the leather sticking to his bare ass. He pulled the modesty bag off his now-deflated cock and dropped his head into his hands.

How had it gotten to this?

How had he gotten to the point where he was tormenting the woman he loved more than life with fake sex on their job site? Bullying her to tears in front of their crew.

He was disgusted with himself. That wasn’t who he was.

He needed to go to Katniss and apologise, for more than just the scene.

Fifteen minutes later, he’d calmed down and thrown on sweats. Katniss’s dressing room door was closed, but he knew she wasn’t in there. He walked past the small set and the little office Annie had used, but he knew she wouldn’t be there either.

Down the hall, past craft services stood the door to the electrical room. It was never locked. Peeta pushed inside. Past all of the clutter and detritus of broken light stands and boxes of cables was another door, narrow and unmarked. A steep set of metal stairs lay beyond it, and at the top a door he had to duck to walk through.

Then he was standing on the roof, a soft Burbank breeze ruffling his hair.

It wasn’t anything special, this part of the roof, gravel-topped and housing the building’s HVAC system. But it was their spot, a place no one else ever went. A place they could find some measure of solitude in the midst of a busy studio. No one ever disturbed them up here.

Katniss was sitting on the low ledge that bisected the roof, wrapped in a robe, her pink silk clad back to him. He knew she must have heard his approach, the gravel beneath him crunched with every step. But she didn’t move, didn’t react as he straddled the cement to lower himself beside her.

She didn’t turn towards him, but she didn’t need to. Her profile said everything: smudged makeup, red nose, puffy eyes. The breeze caught loose tendrils of her hair, blowing them around her face but she was still and silent save for her uneven breaths. An island in a tempest. Her eyes remained fixed on the horizon, past the endless parking lots and low studio buildings to where the sun was sinking low, bathing the sky in soft orange. Her silence wasn’t icy tonight. Pain radiated from every line, every curve.

“I’m sorry,” Peeta started. Katniss nodded, her posture otherwise unchanged. “I was a complete dick in there, and you didn’t deserve any of that. It was inexcusable.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “I don’t want to go on like this. Making out for the cameras, then ignoring each other when they’re off. I was hoping that if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at being friends?” It would certainly make their jobs a lot easier.

“I’ve never slept with Gale,” she said softly, and Peeta startled. That wasn’t even possible. She’d run right back to him, was living with him again.

As if reading his mind, Katniss continued. “He’s been a good friend to me, a brother in some ways. But we’ve never had a physical relationship.”

“Bullshit,” Peeta sputtered, conciliatory tone gone. “You were with him for years.”

Katniss glanced at him then, a half smirk twisting her lips. “You were with Johanna for years too,” she said.

“You know that wasn’t real. And Gale isn’t gay.”

Katniss shrugged, and turned back to the horizon.

Peeta continued to watch her. He knew all of her expressions, her every tell. She wasn’t lying.

“Why,” he started, then stopped. That wasn’t the question he really needed an answer to. “You let me think you were together.”

“Maybe I wanted to hurt you,” she whispered. “Like you hurt me.”

Mission accomplished, he thought. He’d been in fucking agony since he saw the TMZ pictures, and the ones that followed; Katniss and Gale riding in his convertible, Katniss and Gale leaving a trendy LA cafe, Katniss and Gale sipping wine on the balcony of his oceanfront estate. It had been a form of masochism, adding her name to his news alerts and reading the day's gossip about her blossoming relationship with Gale Hawthorne.

Could it really have all been fake?

Katniss and Gale had been on the same sitcom as children, had played cousins. So when, years later, they moved in together, of course everyone assumed they were together. They’d certainly never done anything to contradict it.

“You never mentioned that before,” Peeta said quietly. Not that Gale’s name had come up often in their time together, but they’d talked about past relationships, and she’d never said that Gale had been nothing more than a friend. She’d really never said anything about her years with Gale, and that had always made Peeta insecure, wondering if she’d still harboured feelings for him. If she kept their relationship a secret not from the world, but from Gale Hawthorne. Katniss shrugged.

“I didn’t think it would matter. You’re in the business, you know how often dating is just for show.”

He did. But he’d been upfront with Katniss about Jo, he’d never let her think there was anything there. That she hadn’t given him the same respect, hadn’t trusted him, was gutting.

“He kissed me, once,” Katniss said, and Peeta’s stomach clenched in inappropriate jealousy. “I was seventeen. It was the summer after we’d both finished filming Seam Street, but before he got his big break on that superhero movie. Back when we thought we might still be normal.” She was smiling sadly, lost in the moment. “We both gagged,” she continued, and Peeta’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Katniss laughed softly, but it wasn’t at Peeta. It was at whatever she was remembering. “All of those childhood friends to lovers tropes, it definitely wasn’t like that for me and Gale. Kissing him was…” Katniss trailed off, shuddering. “I love Gale, he’s mine, I’m his. But not like that.

“But it didn’t matter. Once the media decided we were together, they invented stories. Every time we went anywhere together, they took pictures and manipulated them to fit whatever story they’d decided to write about us that week.” Katniss sighed, and rubbed her eyes. “We couldn’t have a life, outside of each other. Anytime either of us was seen with another person, the tabloids went crazy. I got my own place, tried to put some distance there. But it didn’t stop.

“And after he started dating Claudia, it all got worse,” she said. “The media, and fans who decided that he and I belonged together, they couldn’t let it go. They hounded her incessantly, called her a homewrecker and things far worse. Trolled her on social media, harassed her family, and anything either of us tried to get them to back off only made things worse. When she finally broke things off with him, he blamed me, at least a bit.” She paused, and sniffled. “It’s why we’ve barely talked over the past few years. First because it bothered Claudia, and then because Gale was so pissed off. It came close to destroying our friendship.”

Peeta sat in stunned silence as realisation washed over him. “That’s why you wanted to keep us a secret,” he said. “You were protecting me.”

“Private,” she said. “Not secret. And that’s what you and I do, protect each other. Or did,” she added softly.

But he hadn’t protected her. Not on the set, and not from his brother’s vitriol.

“I’m sorry,” Peeta said. “I shouldn’t have let Rye talk shit about you. And I shouldn’t have been all defensive when you rightly called me on it.”

She nodded again, but didn’t turn towards him. And he didn’t know how to bridge the gulf. He’d been wrong, on so many levels. But she hadn’t trusted him, and still didn’t. She could have eased so many of his insecurities just by being honest. But she hadn’t.

He wanted to fix things. He wanted to be with her again, this time with more openness and honesty. To build a better relationship, one they both deserved. He wasn’t sure if it was possible with so much hurt between them. But he wanted to try. He just needed to get Katniss on the same page, and he knew from experience that wasn’t likely to be easy.

“We should go back,” Peeta said what felt like an hour later. The sun was almost gone, and though the air still held the perpetual California heat, Katniss was shivering in the breeze. “I’m done being a wounded prick, I promise.”

Katniss turned to him, finally. She still looked so sad, with her red eyes and ruined makeup. His heart clenched. “Cressida called shooting for the day,” she said. “Didn’t think either of us was in a good place to continue.” Haymitch would doubtless be pissed, any disruption in the schedule was tens of thousands of dollars wasted. Peeta sighed, but he knew it was the right call.

“Probably for the best,” Peeta said. “We’re a mess.”

Katniss laughed, just slightly, and Peeta grinned at her. When he extended his hand to help her up, she took it, and it felt so good to feel her fingers entwined with his again, not for show but in actual friendship.

They walked back to the dressing rooms together. “Do you maybe want to get dinner together?” Peeta asked, and he knew he sounded small and uncertain. But to his surprise, Katniss nodded.

“I’d like that,” she said.

They walked out to the lot thirty minutes later, and Peeta led her to his car. She was wearing jeans and a little tank top, her hair pulled back in a no-fuss braid and a pair of sunglasses shielding eyes that still bore traces of the evening’s emotions. She was in every way Katniss, the woman he loved. But he could feel her holding back, feel the stiffness and uncertainty in the way she looked at him, spoke to him. Not intentional, simply reflexive, like she was trying to keep her heart safe. From him. The wall between them loomed large. It was going to take a Herculean effort to break it down.

There was a restaurant, Sae’s, not too far from the house they’d shared. It catered to people like them. The front was nothing so much as a shabby little diner, but in the back were private, windowless rooms where they could have a meal without prying eyes.

Peeta ordered pasta and Katniss got her favourite goat cheese and apple panini. But the way she pushed the food around on her plate spoke to how distressed she still was. Katniss typically ate with gusto, like she was afraid she’d never see food again.

He left her be, keeping conversation light, trying to ease her back into being comfortable with him. Joking with her, the way he always had. She smiled, but it felt hollow. If anything, she seemed to get more sad as the meal wore on. Peeta’s spirits flagged.

He paid the bill, and they headed out the back door. There, he stopped, and pulled Katniss to stand in front of him.

“Talk to me,” Peeta said, voice gruff with guilt.

“About what?” She wasn’t being flippant, if anything, she sounded defeated.

“Katniss,” he sighed. She looked up at him, eyes unfathomable, dark pools in the lamplight. He could tell she was trying to psych herself up to talk. So he leaned against the restaurant wall and waited.

“I’m sorry, okay,” she said finally, and it wasn’t what he was expecting. “I’m sorry that keeping us a secret hurt you. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

Peeta opened his mouth, to say he understood better now, but she pushed on.

“And it didn’t mean I loved you any less.”

“Loved?” Her use of past tense gutted him. “Not anymore?”

In the deep shadows of the single street light, he could see her face crumple. She wrapped her arms around her body, as if shielding herself from another blow. “Does it matter?” Her words were choked, he could hear she was fighting tears again. “I know what you think of me.”

“Katniss,” he said, the word regret-soaked.

“Frigid little ice princess,” she parroted, but there was no anger. Only pain.

“I didn’t mean it,” Peeta said. “I know that’s not you.” She played at being cold sometimes. But underneath, she was a flame, burning bright.

“Everyone thinks that about me. They always have.”

“I don’t,” Peeta said, and he let the pleading come through in his voice, let her hear his own pain. “I know you’re not cold. You’re the girl on fire.” Katniss’s lips twitched at the old nickname, one she’d gotten as a teenager in an action movie. But her heartbroken expression didn’t change. “I was angry, and wounded, and I lashed out. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” she said, then she was wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Peeta pulled her in close and buried his face in her hair. It was the first time he’d felt whole in more than two weeks, like the broken piece of his soul had returned.

Her little body shook against him, he knew she was crying. “Shhh,” he said, stroking her back. “Shhh. It’s going to be okay.” It was. He’d make sure of it.

“Just missed you so much,” she muttered. His heart soared.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Please come home.”

She didn’t say anything. But he felt her nod against his chest. And it was enough.

He took her back to his place, to their place. They were both exhausted, emotions raw, and had an early morning call, to redo the evening’s ruined scene. But she climbed into bed beside him, and he held her all night.

They were quiet the next morning, tentative and uncertain around each other, but they were together, and Peeta was committed to making things better, for both of them. He’d be patient. He’d communicate better. He’d lost the love of his life once, he wouldn’t let it happen again.

They climbed back into his car, since hers was at the studio, but as soon as the garage door opened Peeta saw Rye there, waving his phone. Beside him, Katniss tensed, and shrank down into her seat. He could almost smell her pain. Just fucking great. The moron had to show up now, when they had barely started patching things together.

“I’ve been calling you all morning,” Rye said as soon as Peeta stepped out of the car. It was just past eight, Rye didn’t typically get up before noon. Peeta suspected he hadn’t yet been to bed.

“Go home, Rye,” Peeta said. “This isn’t the time.”

“They’re saying this is you and that Everdeen chick,” Rye insisted, shaking his phone in Peeta’s face. Sure enough, on the screen was a dark and blurry shot of him, holding Katniss in his arms. Her face wasn’t visible, but her long black braid and sweet little ass were perfectly recognisable. Fuck. He thought they’d be safe at Sae’s. But he’d been wrong. Again. “I already told the Hollywood Reporter it was fake, that you wouldn’t slum with the likes of that—”

“Shut up!” Peeta roared, and for once, Rye stopped talking. “Katniss is the woman I love, and I won’t listen to you disparage her anymore,” Peeta said. “Now get the fuck out of here and stop fucking talking to the media about me.” Peeta was seething. He was going to make sure that security guard was fired. Maybe his boss too. And his boss’s boss.

Rye backed away, hands held up in supplication. “Sure, yeah,” he said quickly. “I’ll just get out of your hair. We’ll talk more later, yeah?”

Peeta didn’t dignify that with an answer. He spun on his heel, to head back to the car. But Katniss was there already, standing just behind him. She must have heard everything they’d said, and worse, Rye would have seen her there. He flinched, but she just smiled at him, then walked straight into his arms.

“Thank you,” she said.

Fuck. She didn’t need to thank him for defending her, it’s what any decent person would do. “I should have said that last time,” he admitted, tightening his hold on her.

“You said it this time,” she said. Then she stretched up onto her toes, and kissed him.

Relief and disbelief and so much love flooded Peeta. He cupped her ass in his hands and hoisted her into his arms, his lips never leaving hers.

He knew Rye was watching. Knew that some of their neighbours could see them too. “We should go back to the garage,” he whispered between kisses that were growing too hot for the street. “People are watching.”

“Let them,” she gasped. “I don't want to hide how I feel about you. Not anymore.”

He laughed against her lips, and kissed her more.

o-o-o

She was sitting in her favourite chair, a mug of camomile tea forgotten beside her, when Peeta got home. He glanced at the television glowing on the wall and groaned. “Access Hollywood? Really?” Katniss, his Katniss, was watching the creme de la creme of shitty tabloid TV.

Their relationship had been dissected endlessly by the gossip shows in the four months since they’d been outed, first by his attention-seeking mother, then by a slightly risqué public display of affection in front of their house that had been captured on cellphone video by multiple sources. Peeta understood so much better now why Katniss had tried so hard to avoid unwanted exposure. He was sick to death of the coverage.

But they were handling it together.

“Shhh,” she said, grinning. “They’re discussing whether we really did the deed while shooting Allium and Barley’s big scene.” Peeta glanced back at the television. The banner read 15 Times 'Love' Scenes On Screen Were Real.

“Oh my god,” Peeta groaned, and sank into the chair beside Katniss’s, covering his face with his hands.

The day after their disastrous first attempt at filming, they’d gone back to the set and found Haymitch waiting for them. The crusty old bastard had actually apologised for putting them in such a shitty position, and told them he’d take the scene out, make it a fade to black.

“No,” Katniss had said, silver eyes brighter than they’d been all week. “The script needs the scene. Our fans need it. And we’re ready this time.”

The second attempt had been so much better. It was still awkward, the choreography still felt strange. One of her pasties came unstuck and ended up caught in his chest hair. Twice they had to cut filming when Katniss started giggling.

Peeta had been loath to watch it, once it’d been edited. Afraid to reopen the barely healing wounds. But the end result, just as Annie promised, looked real. The cameras caught their very real joy at being reunited, their very real love for one another. And those things made the very fake sex look like something more.

They’d filmed several more sex scenes over the course of finishing the season, each easier than the last. Communication, it turned out, did make the scenes less awkward. And it helped with their real relationship too.

But the first scene, the one that Peeta still cringed thinking about, that episode had aired just days ago.

The television sound cut off abruptly and Katniss burst into laughter. Peeta peeked out from between his fingers. Frozen on the big screen was a shot of Peeta’s ass in all of its hi-def glory, and Mario Lopez was pointing to a spot just between his thighs where apparently a hint of nutsack had been caught by the camera.

Well that brought unwanted exposure to a whole new level.

Peeta groaned. “I’m putting a nudity rider in my next contract,” he mumbled.

#everlark #bang #xerxia writes #this one is a little out there #but what can I say?#and I make no apologies for naming him Barley

195 notes · View notes

hisunshiine · 4 years

Text

—also your daddy | knj x reader x jjk

AN: ORIGINALLY POSTED TO MY TWITTER. ITS A 2-SHOT... IM COMBINING THEM FOR EASY READING HERE.

PT 1: Daddy/Dom vibes with Bratty Sub vibes. //TW// biting, spanking, edging

PT 2: my first time writing THIS type of scene... //TW// biting, spanking, edging, oral (m&f), facial, and uhhhhh *cough*2dicksatonceinthesamehole*cough*akaDP*cough*

𝔸𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝔻𝕒𝕕𝕕𝕪 | ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕛𝕠𝕠𝕟/ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣/𝕁𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕜𝕠𝕠𝕜 | 𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓉?

And

𝔸𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝔻𝕒𝕕𝕕𝕪 PT. 2 | ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕛𝕠𝕠𝕟/ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣/𝕁𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕜𝕠𝕠𝕜 | 𝓉𝓌𝑜𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓉

Dating both Namjoon and Jungkook was literally getting the best of both worlds. You consider yourself lucky, and would never want to do anything to mess it up. So you were afraid to tell Jungkook that you wanted him to dom you. You and Namjoon definitely had a Dom/Sub relationship in the bedroom, while you and Koo were more… vanilla. And those special occasions that you got to spend with both of them between the sheets? Well, Namjoon often toned it down for the younger as he viewed him as his baby brother still. But you had seen the way that Jungkook could get on stage. You knew he had it in him to dom you. He just needed to learn how. And who better to teach him than the one who already did such a great job at it?

With a special occasion coming up, the celebration of their anniversary as a group, you were laying in bed with Namjoon while Jungkook was at the studio working on a track for ARMY.

“Joonie...” you traced your fingers across his bare chest, pouting your lips cutely before looking down at him from where you were leaning onto his side, “I want to do something special, to celebrate with the two of you. I think you both would really enjoy it.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow as he looks up at you from where he is sprawled on his back.

“Well, I really want Jungkook to be Daddy. And you know how to do that so well… I thought if you got to be Daddy over him and me and show him how to do it, that you would both enjoy it.”

“Is that what you want princess?” Namjoon lifts the arm that was laid out across your pillow and lifts it, gently massaging your scalp as you preen, body pushing flush to his.

“Yes, I want it really bad...” you whimper when his other hand makes contact with your core, gently rubbing your bud.

“I’ll think about it,” was his response, and all thoughts of it left you as his lips attached to your neck as he rolled to be on top of you.

It had been several days since then, and you had forgotten all about your request. You had been so busy helping out with the Festa events and BangBangCon, since you worked for BH, that you didn’t even realize that the dorm was eerily empty when you arrived.

“Hmm, the text did say tonight? Right?” you quietly murmur to yourself, pulling your phone from the back pocket of your jeans. Swiping to your messages, you didn’t notice Jungkook step into the hallway, his eyes on you.

“Princess. Bedroom. Now.” Jungkook turned and disappeared down the hall towards Namjoon’s room, and you followed, still confused.

“Koo, what’s going-- oh!”

You were suddenly lifted and thrown onto the bed. It was dim in the room, and you tried to sit up, but the silk sheets made your palms slip.

“Okay Kook, now tell her what you want her to do.” Namjoon’s voice echoed from the corner where he sat in a chair.

“Uh, Princess… strip and lay back down.” Jungkook said, voice faltering a little at first as he attempts to be in charge. You chuckle, and Namjoon glares at you, then turns to Jungkook.

“Ask her what’s funny.”

Jungkook repeats the phrase, and you school your face into a neutral expression as you answer.

“Nothing, Koo.”

“Jungkook, take charge.” Namjoon sighs, uncrossing his legs as he stands. They’re both still in the black suits they were wearing for some photo op for Festa, though their coats were missing, and it only made Namjoon look more intimidating as he walked over.

“Like this.” Namjoon wrapped his long fingers around your throat gently; a warning. “What was so funny, Princess? Hmm?”

“N-nothing, Daddy.” You instantly reply, compliant.

“See how she instantly melts in my grip? How she didn’t call me Joonie?” He turns to face Jungkook. “Command it with your energy. Like when you’re on stage.”

Jungkook nods, and you see the way his eyes transition from your soft baby Koo into Jungkook of BTS. Fuck. You feel your panties begin to stick to you. Namjoon releases you, going back to sit in the chair.

“I think I asked you nicely to take off your clothes, I won’t ask you again.” Jungkook moved in front of you, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up. You stand and quickly rid yourself of your shirt and jeans, saving your now soaked panties for last. Feeling bratty, you throw them at Namjoon, who just smirks at you when he catches them. Hopping back onto the bed, you lay back, getting comfortable as Jungkook watches. His persona is faltering slightly again, and he glances at Namjoon for help.

“Tease her, make her beg for it. And if she does something you didn’t tell her she could do, punish her.”

Jungkook swallows so hard you can see his Adam's apple bob, but he nods, appears to steel himself, and then he climbs onto the bed, the mattress sinking where his knees are. He brings his face to yours, kissing you gently as his hand massages your breast. You kiss him back, and your hand rises to cup his neck, but once there, Jungkook removes it and pins your wrist to the bed.

“I didn’t say you could touch me, baby.”

You frown, but don’t say anything as he begins to kiss you again, his hand now drifting to the apex of your thighs. His fingers rub up and down across your slit, pressing on your clit and gathering what wetness is already there. Slowly, he inserts just one finger a little bit of the way into you, before rotating it in circles. It feels good and you buck slightly searching for more, but he pulls his finger back.

“Nuh-uh, pretty baby. You need to follow directions.” Jungkook smiles down at you, but you’re not liking this. Jungkook never denies you what you want. You’re starting to regret asking Namjoon to teach him some things.

“Jungkook. She’s being bratty. If you don’t nip it in the bud, she won’t take you seriously. Like this.”

Namjoon climbs onto the bed too as Jungkook rolls to the side, and he resumes where Jungkook left off. You kiss him as he fingers you, and soon you’re ready for a second one. You buck again, so lost in the kiss and feelings, and instantly feel Namjoon remove his lips and bring them to your neck, where he bites you. Not hard enough to break skin or really hurt, but it shocks your eyes open, and you whimper.

“What did your Daddy say?” Namjoon asks, nodding his head towards Jungkook.

“Follow directions.”

“Seems you’re just being bratty hmm? What should we do about it, Koo?”

Jungkook looks around the room as he thinks, and then he gets off the bed, fidgeting with his pants.

“Turn over baby, get your ass in the air.”

You oblige, and a few seconds later, your exposed cunt is being stuffed with Jungkook’s hard length. You gasp, fingers grasping the sheets tightly as you try and catch your bearings, but it’s futile. He pulls out of you, and you hear and feel him spit before he’s slamming back into you, repeatedly. It feels good, despite the stretch you weren’t ready for, and quickly you feel your climax creeping on you.

“My needy little baby can’t control herself tonight...” Jungkook pants in time with his thrusts.You feel yourself gush hearing him call you his needy little baby, and soon he’s sliding in and out of you easily as you adjust to take him.

“I’m sorry,” you moan, but Namjoon interferes again, telling Jungkook that your apology isn’t good enough.

“I’m sorry, Daddy!” you cry out, but Jungkook laughs.

“Too late for that, sweetheart.” You feel his hand leave your hip, and then your ass smarts as you feel the sting of his palm.

Your torso collapses onto the bed from the onslaught of Jungkook plunging into you, and you make eye contact with Namjoon. He’s stripped down as well, and is stroking his cock slowly in his hand as he watches you get plowed. Jungkook spits again, but this time slowly, as you feel it drip and spread onto your unused hole, and he brings his thumb to rub circles on it as he slows the thrusts, instead switching to roll his hips deep and hard into you. You feel an orgasm coming, and you close your eyes, squeezing your walls around Jungkook’s hardened member, but much to your dismay, Namjoon got up and pulled Jungkook out of you. You’re left without anyone touching you.

“This is where you punish her, Koo. We want her begging.”

You whimper, but they ignore you, waiting for your impending climax to disappear.

“Do you understand now baby?” Namjoon asks.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Jungkook is also your Daddy tonight. And we’re not done with you yet.”

You moan when you feel a tongue slide up from your clit and kisses your opening, before lapping at your juices.

“Not even close.”

You were not happy. Ass still poised and in the air, you just had to lay there and feel the wonderful build up that you had been waiting for, dissolve into an overwhelming feeling of want.

FUCK, you wanted them to ravage you, but you didn’t want to beg. You never had to beg Jungkook a day in your life, always so eager to please you, he would do anything you asked. Knowing that Namjoon was trying to get you to cave in made your resolve that much stronger. You knew you had asked for this, but you weren’t prepared. You weren’t prepared to have your baby Koo treat you like the filthy, begging, bratty baby girl that you were.

Namjoon turned to Jungkook.

“Now, this time, tell her what you want her to do. Don’t stutter, don’t smile, don’t be so… nice. She only gets that when she behaves.”

You hear Jungkook take a deep breath.

“Baby girl, come suck Daddy’s dick.”

You move slowly, pouting until you feel another sting to your same ass cheek that was spanked earlier.

“Ow! That fucking hurt!” You whine, knowing full well that it didn’t actually hurt.

Jungkook broke his role, reaching for you and apologies already pouring from his pink lips.

“Princess, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to really hu--”

He stops talking when he sees you laughing as you flip over.

“Well played, baby girl.” Namjoon is slowly clapping from where he’s seated, and you chance a look at him. His words are warm, but his eyes are anything but. You shiver, knowing your bratty nature is making it worse for yourself. Perfect.

You’re so busy deciphering Namjoon’s body language that you don’t expect it when Jungkook grips you by the back of your neck. His strong, lithe fingers apply just a bit of pressure, and your eyes snap to his. They’re dark, pupils blown out.

“I think it’s time you learned your lesson, princess.”

His hand guides your head down until you’re eye level with his cock. The velvety skin is covered with a sheen of your slick, and you’re seconds away from finding out how you taste.

Jungkook tapped the head on your lips, the act making your pussy contract as you saw a side of him you hadn’t experienced. Opening your mouth, you slide your lips along the mushroomed tip, swirling your tongue around it.

“Just like that, baby.” Jungkook praises, and you feel your ego strut. You take him farther into your mouth, dragging your tongue along the bottom and enjoying the heaviness of his girth on your tongue. Once you have the tip touching the back of your throat, you swallow, and Jungkook grips your hair with both hands.

“Fuck, princess, I’m gonna fuck your dirty mouth now.”

Hollowing your cheeks, you let Jungkook take control of your head, and in no time, you’re slobbering loudly as he sheaths himself repeatedly in your warm, wet mouth. He’s grunting in between musical moans, panting as he tries to hold himself back. You feel tears on your cheeks as you stifle your gag reflex, but soon he’s pulling out of your mouth, stroking his cock before you feel his release coat the bottom half of your face and chest.

Jungkook had NEVER cum on your face before, and you were honestly so shocked at this person he had become.

“Nice touch, Kook.” Namjoon nodded approvingly, then turned to you.

“Lick it off your lips, baby. Now.”

You obeyed, tongue dragging across your lips, Jungkook’s cum salty as you swallowed it.

“Jungkook, clean her face, then make her swallow that too.”

Jungkook leaned in, licking your face where his cum had landed, and then tongue kissed you, transferring his seed into your mouth. It was dirty, and it was so fucking hot.

“A good Dom won’t ever make his baby girl do something he wouldn’t be okay with doing either.” Namjoon stood up, and Jungkook took a few steps back from you, letting his hyung stand between your legs at the end of his bed. You waited obediently.

“Lean back princess. You did well. Let me make you feel good.”

He took your legs and folded them towards you once you followed his instructions, and you couldn’t hold back the sounds when you felt his pink pout make contact with your throbbing center. He hummed in approval, enjoying the taste of your pussy as he teased your lips apart, dipping his tongue into your hole and curling. He moved his tongue to your clit, swirling and teasing you until he could feel your legs shaking.

“Koo, come finger her while I continue this,” Namjoon’s muffled voice came from between your thighs, and your back arched as you felt two fingers push into you.

“Shit, princess, you’re so fucking wet.”

“Please Daddy, please...” You gave in, begging for more. God, you wanted more.

You felt Jungkook’s fingers speed up, rubbing your bundle of nerves as Namjoon suckled your bud gently flicking it simultaneously. You could feel it growing, but you didn’t want to be edged again, so you didn’t say anything, just continued trying to hold back your loud whines of how good they felt pleasuring you. Jungkook’s free hand groped your chest, nimble fingers moistened by his own mouth pinching and pulling your nipple. You rolled your hips, seeking the release you craved.

“Fuck! Daddy, no!”

They had done it again, effectively brought you to the cusp, and then stopped, leaving you teary-eyed. You wanted to cum so badly, and you were starting to get pissed that Namjoon was denying you. This wasn’t what you asked for.

Sitting up quickly, you are about to speak your mind when Jungkook grabs your hands and pushes you back down, his knees spreading your thighs wide. The head of his cock is dripping precum, and you can feel it as it rubs gently across your sensitive clit. You sigh out a moan that’s half a cry for him to bury himself inside you.

“Please Daddy, please fuck me.” You open your eyes wide, pouting as you beg Jungkook to take you. “Please let me cum, Daddy.”

Without answering you, Jungkook surges forward, plunging himself so far into you, you feel him hit your cervix.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” Namjoon intones lowly, “that’s what I’m talking about. Take charge, make her beg for it, and if she behaves, give it to her.”

Jungkook slowly slides himself out of you before ramming himself deep again, and you could have came right then and there. Each time he pulls out, you can feel the vein along his shaft rub against your g-spot, and you ache for more, need to be full until you can’t remember your name.

“Fuck, it’s so wet, Joon, you gotta feel this.” Jungkook is panting as he keeps up a steady rhythm, hips rolling smoothly as he taps your cervix everytime. You roll your hips back, matching him, and let out a loud keening sound when you feel Namjoon’s finger slide inside of you while Jungkook is still there as well. Jungkook stills, and you feel the pressure of Namjoon’s second finger stretching you wider.

“Can you take two of us baby?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Be a good girl and try, princess, okay?”

Namjoon leans around Jungkook’s body and presses a kiss to your lips, and you find yourself nodding, and he continues to scissor his fingers around Jungkook’s length.

“H-hyung, shit, please hurry.. I’m not gonna last much longer with you doing that.”

Namjoon chuckles, and you groan as you feel Jungkook’s cock pull out. You’re empty and wanting. They scoot you up the bed and turn you onto your side, both of them taking either side of you. Jungkook brushes your hair out of your face, and leans close to kiss you.

“Let us know if it hurts you, baby.”

You nod, and Jungkook shivers as Namjoon’s hand coats his dick with lubricant. You watch, enthralled as Namjoon’s large hand strokes Jungkook once, twice, three times and then he is entering you again, holding your leg up for easier access. Seconds later, you feel a second head push against your opening, and Namjoon’s cock nestles itself inside you as Jungkook pulls out slightly.

You’ve never felt so wonderfully full in your life.

“Tell us when baby, we want you to feel good.” Namjoon says through gritted teeth, his free hand gently rubbing your ass as he buries his face in your neck. Jungkook’s doe eyes are wider than you’ve ever seen them, and his breathing is slow and deep as he tries to contain himself.

“Okay, Daddies, you can move.”

Slowly, they move in tandem, one pulling out as the other thrusts in, and you don’t think it can feel any better than this. Both of your men fucking your tight pussy; this was everything you ever wanted. Within seconds, you were clenching, pussy contracting as you were overcome with the hardest orgasm you had ever felt. Body shaking, they continued, helping you prolong your high.

“Ahh, fuck I’m gonna cum baby.” Jungkook said against your lips, and you felt when he spurted his hot cum inside of you. He whined as he pulled out, his cock over sensitive as it rubbed flush against Namjoon’s.

Namjoon continued to fuck into you, stuffing you to the brim with Jungkook’s cum as he sped up his pace, burrowing himself into you. You felt your climax building again, but Jungkook was swallowing your moans, his tongue tangling with yours in the most raunchy, lewd kiss you had ever had with him. You felt Namjoon bite into your shoulder with a grunt as his hips stuttered, and your tight little cunt was overflowing with a mixture of juices.

You lay in the bed, cocooned by both of your Daddies, Jungkook and Namjoon holding you between them. Jungkook had his head lower than yours to your chest, and Namjoon was your big spoon. Namjoon showed Jungkook how to take care of you afterwards, showering you with praises at how well you had done, (“Such a good baby girl, taking us both, I’m so proud of you princess”), and as well as affection with kisses and soft touches. They wiped you clean, and took turns holding you while they each cleaned themselves up. Separately they each whispered I Love You’s and your heart burst knowing they felt the same way you did.

“I love you both, DaddyKoo and DaddyJoon.” You yawned and they both held you a little tighter.

“I love you, princess.”

“I love you, baby girl.”

#hisunshiine #namkook #namkook x reader #bts smut #hisunshiinewritings #jungkook smut #namjoon smut #daddy namjoon #bangtan smut #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #kim namjun #kim namjoon #rm #bts #rap monster

381 notes · View notes

leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 4 years

Text

BTS DRABBLE-Jin

Anon Request: Reader, a dancer, is Jin’s girlfriend. She does not have contact or a close relationship with her family.

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, my asks, my requests, fluff, Kim Seokjin, Jin, Seokjin x reader, Seokjin x you

Genre: Fluff, Mild, Mild Angst

Title: The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

“Okay, and then locke step,” You reach up as you move, adjusting and pushing the microphone looped over your ears against your lips to be heard over the loud music coming from the speakers, “Arms up, and turn, and then grapevine left.” You snap your fingers as you demonstrate the steps, warning loudly, “Eyes up, watch yourselves in the mirror.”

You pause, watching the group of dancers before you shrewdly as they repeat the moves several times, making sure that everyone is demonstrating correctly and in their right positions, and reaching out for the stereo, you switch the music off, the room echoing into silence, as you nod. “Good. That was looking good.” You weave your way through the rows of dancers, ticking off on your fingers as you adjust various shoulders and legs and arms. “Just remember to stay in these exact positions, because when we start practicing on the stage, and then eventually with the boys, we don’t want any accidents.” You return to the front of the room, crossing your arms over your chest. “Don’t crowd their space, don’t get anywhere near the edge of the platform, and definitely don’t encroach on their positions-you’ll mess the whole choreography up that way.”

“Jagi. Come on. It’s almost Christmas. You’re still keeping these guys here? Have a heart.”

You glance over your shoulder as the familiar, amused, warm voice fills the room and Jin enters, sneakers padding softly across the wood of the practice room floor, smile radiant, wearing his usual pink sweatsuit that makes an appearance on long days at the studio.

“We were only staying as long as you guys were.” You retort back, rolling your eyes at him, before you adjust the loop of the microphone once more and glance back at the expectant dancers. “Now that you’re done, we are too. Go home, guys.” There is an overall sigh of relief, as the dancers slouch their shoulders and head to the various corners of the room to grab their bags. “I’ll see you in two weeks!” You call out over the noise of bustling, waving a finger at the mass in general as you say sternly, “Don’t forget to keep loose and practice!”

“You know, you’re starting to sound like Hobi.” Jin says low in your ear, his arms encircling your waist, the soft material of his very expensive hoodie warm and soft against your bare, sweaty skin. “You don’t have to go so hard. They’re always perfect.”

“That’s because I go so hard.” You scoff, but you can already feel the annoyance draining from your tone as he leans over to kiss your cheek, before releasing you to get your things. “I’m a good teacher because I don’t accept anything less than perfect. You know that, Jin.”

“No,” Jin intones back, leaning against the wall of the now empty practice room, watching with a slight smile on his face as you throw on a hoodie over your sports bra and lean down to grab your duffel bag. “You’re a good teacher because you’re you, Jagi.”

“Ew. Shut up.” you wrinkle your nose in disgust at his mushy compliment, even though warmth blooms in your chest at his words. “Come on, Let’s go.” You grab his hand in yours, large fingers warm against your own, dragging him behind you as you flip off the lights and leave the practice room. “Aren’t Hobi and Jimin making all of us do something ridiculously festive against our will tonight?”

Jin chuckles, trotting to catch up to you, as he slings his long arm over your shoulders and tugs you against his side as you walk toward the elevator. “That’s the plan. We’re having Christmas together before everyone leaves to see their families for the week.”

“Fine.” You sigh, rolling your eyes, making Jin laugh again. You wave your finger at him menacingly, “I’ll do it for Hobi and Jimin. But don’t think this means I got you a present.”

He holds up his hands as you enter the elevator, mirth evident in his voice and his bright eyes as he exclaims, “Yeah, yeah. I know the rules, you Grinch.”

You slug him in the shoulder at his joke, and he laughs once more, as the elevator doors close on the darkened BigHit Building.

********

“Okay, okay.” Jimin says, laughter still lightening his words, as he wipes his eyes and takes a sip of his eggnog, before motioning to the pile of presents under the brightly lit tree in the corner. “Who’s next?”

“I’ll go.” Namjoon speaks up from where he is reclining against the couch, and crawling forward, he selects a poorly wrapped present from beneath the tree and tosses it over to Jungkook, who catches it easily in the palm of one hand. “I had JK.”

“Who wrapped your present, RM?” Yoongi leans over to look at the package in Jungkook’s hands and snorts out a laugh. “A blind T-Rex?”

“Wrapping things isn’t my forte. Breaking things is.” Namjoon replies easily, shrugging his shoulders as he settles back against the edge of the couch once more.

Everyone watches eagerly as Jungkook begins to open his secret Santa present, but your gaze is dragged over to Jin, who is sitting beside you on the couch, one arm slung over your shoulders, the other hand now squeezing your fingers tightly between his own, which has drawn your attention.

“What?” You mouth over to him, raising a brow in his direction, as he flashes you a grin, teeth white against plush, pink lips.

“Who did you have?” He leans over to whisper, glancing between you and JK, who is now gushing over the piece of recording equipment Namjoon got him, as the others lean in to admire his present.

“I’m not telling.” You sniff, turning your head away from him, as you bite back a smile, knowing that not knowing your secret Santa recipient has been driving him crazy.

“Ah, come on, Jagi.” Jin groans, throwing his head back on the couch, as Taehyung volunteers to go next. He pouts in your direction. “It’s not like it’s going to be a secret for much longer. I’ll tell you mine!”

“You told me yours the moment we drew names.” You tease back quietly, as Taehyung moves across the room to hand his present to a suddenly shy Yoongi in the face of all the attention.

“Damn it.” Jin mumbles beneath his breath, making you laugh and poke your finger into his ribs.

“(Y/N)!” You look up, the smile from teasing Jin still on your lips, as Jimin excitedly waves to you from across the room, motioning to the now smaller pile of presents as he does so. “It’s your turn!”

Sighing, but putting on a large smile for Jimin and Hobi, who absolutely love Christmas, while you do not, you leave Jin and cross the room to grab the small package you had carefully wrapped from under the tree.

Holding aloft the brightly colored parcel, you roll your eyes at Jin, who is finding your lackluster enjoyment amusing, and say loudly, “I had Hobi.”

Hobi gasps excitedly at your announcement, and he pulls you into a tight, all encasing hug as you hand him the present, before you can escape, his smile as bright as the sun, as he shrieks, “Oh, (Y/N)! Thank you!”

You nod and slip from his grasp and back to the safety of Jin’s side, as Hobi starts to excitedly and messily strip the wrapping paper from the present, his eyes growing into the size of saucers as your gift is revealed, his mouth dropping into the shape of an “O” as his gaze meets yours and he says softly, “Did you make this?”

You nod, a slight blush coming across your cheeks, as Hobi, almost reverently, pulls the small, leather laced, designer bag from the rest of the packaging for the others to see, admiring with astonishment the carefully painted yellow sunshine on one side, and the scrawled red words that form “J-Hope” on the other side of the bag.

“Wow, (Y/N).” Yoongi says dryly, shooting you a teasing look from where he sits beside Hobi. “Maybe you do have a heart after all.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea.” You snark back, as he sends you a wink.

“All right, (Y/N) wins Christmas.” Jimin says, holding his glass of refilled eggnog aloft in a salut to you from across the room.

“And to think, we all lost to the biggest Grinch in the room.” Taehyung jokes, flashing a boxy smile at you, as you raise your own glass of hot cider in his direction, tipping your head in acknowledgement to his shade.

“Are you going home for Christmas, Noona?” Jungkook asks, setting aside his recording gear, as he looks at you with wide, curious, dark eyes.

“Oh, um.” You stumble over the words, caught off guard by his question, suddenly uncomfortable, your fingers fidgeting with Jin’s in your lap. “No, actually.” You hesitate momentarily, wondering how much you should say, but decide that it doesn’t really matter at this point. “My family didn’t want me to study dance. So when I came to Seoul to attend the academy, I lost all contact with them. It’s been about five years now.”

There is a moment of silence, as the boys consider your words, Jimin and Hobi looking between one another, sending secret looks of sympathy, Jungkook staring at you wide eyed, Jin pressing his fingers into the palm of your hand as a sign of warm comfort.

Clearing your throat, you force a smile onto your face and shrug slightly. “It’s not a big deal, Kook. I’m kind of used to being alone now.”

“No.”

You glance up, slightly startled, as JIn’s suddenly stern voice pierces the quiet of the room, the one word spilling past his lips with utmost fervency and feeling, as he glances between the rest of the boys, and then back to you, turning and shifting slightly so he can take both hands in his own large ones.

“No, jagi. You’re not alone. Not anymore.” His eyes, dark and shining with the firmness of his words, bore into your own, and his fingers clench tightly, digging slightly into the skin on the back of your hands. “When you started dating me, you got all of us, whether you like it or not. We’re your family now.”

The other boys nod at the end of JIn’s statement, and you suddenly feel tears welling behind your eyelids. Sniffing and ducking your head from their view so they won’t notice the sudden sheen on your irises, you clear your throat, and gaining control of yourself, you say carefully, “Thank you, Jin. That means a lot.”

“Okay, Okay.” Jimin claps his hands, crossing the room to turn off the light, so that the only light is now coming softly from the gleaming of the christmas tree. “Let’s sing some carols.”

There are groans from various members, sounding mainly like Yoongi and Namjoon and maybe Jin from beside you, but Jimin ignores them with a glare, waving his hands as the boys join reluctantly in singing a Christmas carol with him.

“Hey, Jin.” You lean over, whispering in his ear beneath the swell of the boys’ singing.

“Hmm?” He hums back under his breath, glancing over at you in the dim light, his eyes even darker, reflecting the twinkling lights from the Christmas tree.

You grin at him and nuzzle your face into his neck as you rest your head on his shoulder, intertwining his fingers more tightly with yours. “Maybe I got you a Christmas present after all.”

76 notes · View notes

avengerscompound · 5 years

Text

The Test

The Test: A Clintasha Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 3111

Rating: M

Square filled: @clintbartonbingo - G1 Missing Scene

Warnings: Sex talk, pregnancy scare, talk of past miscarriages and red room stuff, angsty, hurt/comfort

Synopsis: When Natasha wakes up feeling nauseated, she and Clint had to face the possibility that she might be pregnant. With the newness of their relationship and the fact that the Red Room has made it impossible for her to carry a baby to term, the three minutes it takes for the test to work are the longest of their lives.

A/N: After Natasha showed up in Rocket Raccoon with two of Clint’s kids I’ve been thinking about a story about how that happened considering in 616 Natasha can’t carry kids to term. Now with Katie Barton showing up too, this story of finding out Nat was pregnant came to me. I’m really happy with how it turned out.

The Test

Natasha woke completely engulfed in Clint’s arms. That’s how it had been since she’d started her relationship back up with the archer. It was like he was worried that during the night she’d disappear on him again and realize they weren’t meant to be together. Not that she could blame him for that. Their history was anything but smooth sailing but even at their worst, she had loved Clint Barton. He was her best friend. The only person who looked at her and saw the potential for what she could be despite her past, rather than a limited version of herself because of it. There were often times she didn’t think she could live up to the image Clint had her, but god damn if she didn’t want to when he looked at her the way he did. Even when he was married to someone else, or she was dating someone else, he never looked at her with anything other than the eyes of someone who truly believed in her.

They had always felt inevitable, but timing or their own messed up bullshit had gotten in the way. This … this felt different. Permanent. Home. She just hoped they didn’t mess things up again.

As much as she wanted to stay, wrapped in his well-toned arms, the bathroom called her. She slipped out of his embrace, pushing a pillow into his arms as he reached out to the once occupied space. She knew it wouldn’t keep him asleep for long but it would buy her some time in the shower alone before he hopped in behind her and it became about anything but getting clean.

She used the bathroom and hopped under the warm stream of the shower, letting it wash over her. It was a rare day where she didn’t need to be somewhere doing something. It was nice to be able to just enjoy it. She grabbed the shampoo and squeezed some into her palm. Something about the scent triggered her gag reflex. She dry heaved as she rinsed the soap from her hand, and staggered out of the shower, dropping to her knees and throwing up into the toilet.

Clint appeared behind her and pulled her hair back behind her head. “Are you okay, Nat?”

“No,” Natasha said, throwing up again as he rubbed her back. When her stomach finally seemed to settle, she sat back and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Pizdets. That came out of nowhere. I can’t even remember the last time I threw up.”

Clint helped her to her feet. “Maybe it was something you ate. Those shrimp tacos from that dodgy-looking food truck?”

“You had three times as many as me,” Natasha argued as she got into the shower. She used the water from the showerhead to rinse the taste of sick out of her mouth. “Why aren’t you sick?”

Clint stripped off his clothes and took out his hearing aids, putting them on the top of the medicine cabinet. He climbed in behind her and circled his arms around her. “Because I’m a manly man and you’re just a tiny girl.”

Natasha elbowed him. Hard. It made his foot slip out from under him and he pinwheeled his arms trying not to fall before Natasha caught him again. ‘Are you trying to make me kill you?’ she signed.

“Yeah, I was regretting that as the words were leaving my mouth.” He said a little too loudly.

Natasha let out a breath and leaned her head against his shoulder. She wondered if it was the tacos. She’d been feeling a little off for weeks now. Achy and ill. Like she was getting the flu. She stood back and looked up at Clint. ‘Maybe it wasn’t the tacos. Maybe I’m getting sick,’ she signed.

“Can you even get sick?” He asked.

She shrugged and turned away from him. Honestly, she didn’t think so. While the serum she had was flawed compared to Steve’s it had always kept her healthy. Maybe it had started to run its course now. Or maybe whatever she caught had been designed specifically to attack super-soldiers.

“Maybe you’re pregnant,” Clint teased, running his hands up Natasha’s sides. “Let me see.” He cupped her breasts and seemed to bounce them in his palms like he was trying to weigh them. “They do feel bigger.”

Natasha scowled and wheeled around on him as she tried to mentally count back to when she’d last had her period. She had never been great with birth control. The hormonal stuff worked for a little while and then the serum would start adjusting for it, and her body physically rejected any kind of implant. So there was just the barrier kind, and she’d remember that most of the time until things got comfortable. Normally it didn’t matter. The serum had made it hard for her to conceive anyway. But not impossible. “Don’t even joke about that!” She snapped, not even bothering to sign it, and trusting he got the tone in her voice by lip-reading alone.

“What?” Clint asked, a genuine look of confusion on his face. It was hard to keep her fear and anger directed at him. Besides, as far as he knew she was just infertile because of the Red Room. He didn’t know the dirty details.

She huffed, jumped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and dashed to the bedroom. She grabbed her phone and started going through her calendar to work out exactly how late she was. Clint appeared in the doorway, still dripping water, with a towel wrapped low on his hips as he put his hearing-aids back in. “What did I say, Nat?”

“Pregnant, Clint!” Natasha shouted. “I think I’m pregnant!”

Clint just stared at her with his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “What? What? What do you mean, Nat? You said you couldn’t?”

She dropped her gaze. “No,” she said. “I can. I have been before.”

“What?” Clint said. “Nat! You said! I would have been more careful!”

“I know, Clint!” She cursed under her breath. Just a string of random nonsensical swearing in various different languages, including Latin.

While Natasha was trying to figure out how exactly to explain to him how she’d fucked up, Clint’s face seemed to go through a whole emotional journey. Like he was experiencing the five stages of grief all at once but instead of settling on acceptance, he settled on a hopeful optimism. He moved to Natasha quickly and kneeled on the ground in front of her.

“But this is good,” Clint said, taking her hands in his. “Nat, if you are… you get to be a mom like you wanted. That’s good isn’t it?”

Natasha felt a very unfamiliar sensation in her eyes. Was she about to cry? Was Clint’s hopeful little puppy face about getting to have kids with her going to make her cry? She rubbed her eyes in frustration and shook her head. “You don’t understand, Clint.”

“Is it me? You don’t want to have kids with me?” He dropped his hands and flopped back onto his butt. Lucky seemed to sense something was up with his favorite human being and he padded over and flopped down directly in Clint’s lap. “Of course you don’t. Why would you? I’m a fucking mess. I’m sorry, Nat. If you… I dunno… want to …” He shook his head and shrugged. “...alone. Or whatever.”

“Oh, you idiot bird,” Natasha said, kneeling on the ground in front of him and cradling his jaw. “I love you so much. Of course, I would want to have kids with you. If anyone it would be you. It was always you.”

“Then what is it, Nat?” Clint asked. “Shouldn’t you be excited?”

“There are so many things, Clint,” she said, looking down again. “We’ve only just gotten back together. Our lives. But most of all…” She stopped and let out a shuddering breath. Clint looked at her with both fear and hope written all over his features and she was about to break his heart, the same way hers broke every time she thought about this. “Clint, it’s not that I can’t get pregnant. I can’t carry to term. The serum makes the pregnancies non-viable.”

“Oh,” Clint said. The sound almost like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Oh,” he repeated. He leaned forward pressing his forehead against hers. “Has this happened before?”

Natasha sucked in air suddenly and two tears escaped her eyes. She turned her head away from him. He couldn’t see her weak like this. She couldn’t be weak like this. Not in front of Clint. Not when he looked at her like the way he did.

He reacted quickly, shoving Lucky off his lap and pulling her into it. His hands bunched in her hair and he kissed her. The kiss was everything she needed it to be. Strong and reassuring. Loving and tender. She knew exactly what he was thinking as he kissed her. It was going to be okay. Whatever happened, good or bad, they were together and it was going to be okay.

When he broke the kiss he kept her wrapped tightly in his arms. “Maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves, Nat. When was the last time you had your … you know?”

Natasha pulled back from him and got back up, retying the towel around her. “My period?” She asked, and Clint nodded enthusiastically. “Good god, Clint. You want to have a baby with me and you can’t even say the word period? What if this works and it’s a girl, and I die, and you have to tell her about periods?”

Clint started laughing as he got up. “That is really getting ahead of yourself, Nat,” Clint said and when the scowl didn’t leave her face, he shook his head and looked into her eyes. “If we do end up having a daughter together, I promise I’ll practice saying period.” He sat down on the side of the bed and patted the space beside him. Natasha moved up next to him and put her head on his shoulder. “But when was it?”

“I’m not sure exactly. It tends to be erratic. They really did a number on my reproductive system. But I’d say around two months ago. Give or take a couple of weeks.”

Clint patted her leg and got up and started pulling on the dirty clothes he had scattered around the room. “I’ll go buy some tests. Okay? Then we’ll know and we can work out what to do from there.”

Natasha watched as he hurriedly got dressed and Lucky seemed to be determined to try and trip him over. “Clint?” She said quietly.

“Yeah, Nat?” He said as he pulled on his shoe.

“You’d be a good father, you know?” She said.

Clint came over and kissed her forehead. “Thanks, Nat. You’d be a great mom.”

“I’m really scared.” She whispered.

“That’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s scary.”

She caressed his cheek with her thumb and flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I’ll be right back.” He said and whistled for Lucky. The mutt trotted after him as he headed out the door.

Natasha was still lying staring at the ceiling when Clint burst back through the door. She hadn’t moved at all since he’d left. She had just stayed lying there, wrapped in her towel with her legs hanging over the end of the bed. The only difference between when Clint left and when he arrived was Liho was now curled up on her chest.

“Nat?” He said softly. “Are you dead?”

“I wish I was dead.” She replied.

He sat down beside her and gave Liho a scratch on the head. “I got you some presents. Look.”

She sat up, putting a disgruntled Liho on her pillow, and looked in the plastic CVS bag he was holding open. Inside was some Hershey’s Kisses, a Pez Dispenser in the shape of Ariel from the Little Mermaid, a bottle of strawberry lemonade, a small remote-controlled car, and the pregnancy tests.

“You bought all this for me?” Natasha asked, looking up into the blue of Clint’s eyes.

Clint nodded and kissed her forehead. Her eyes glistened with tears again and Clint's heart ached for her. He knew how she felt about looking this weak, even in front of him. He wished he knew the right words to say to make her realize she could do this.

“I love you, dummy.” She whispered.

“I love you too, Nat.”

Natasha sighed and pulled out the tests. “I better do this then.”

Clint sat on the edge of the bed and waited for Natasha to come back out of the bathroom. He pulled the remote-controlled car from the box and set it up. When Natasha returned, she sat down next to him and put the tester on the bedside table. Clint handed her the car’s remote.

“What do we do if it's positive?” Natasha asked. Her voice was hollow like she had lost the ability to emote over this anymore. She started driving the car and immediately hit the dresser, knocking one of the wheels out of alignment. Clint got up and picked it up. He grabbed the multi-tool he kept on the dresser for when he wanted to mess around with his custom arrowheads and came and sat back down while he attempted to fix the small car.

“I don't know, Nat,” he said, frowning. “What do you want to do?”

“I just -” she let out a breath and leaned over to watch what Clint was doing. He wasn't entirely sure himself, but he'd taken off the whole base and was trying to straighten up the wheel. “I hate how the Red Room still has this control over me. I want to be a mother. And I can't imagine anyone else being the person I have kids with except you. But they've taken that from me. This will just go like it did last time. I'll get excited about it. Start buying baby things. And one day I'll wake up in a huge pool of blood and it will be gone. I can't go through that again, Clint. It'll destroy me.”

Clint put the car back together and put it on the ground without saying anything. Natasha pressed on the controls and the car did a donut and spun off under the bed. Lucky barked at it and crouched with his head under the bed, his tail wagging like a helicopter blade. “I’ve been through that too, you know?”

Natasha turned her head to face him. “What?”

Clint nodded and fiddled with his fingers. “Bobbi. It wasn’t planned. Like now. But damn if we weren’t excited about it. She didn’t make it very far into it before we lost it, so we never told anyone it happened. Didn’t want the sad looks and asking if we were over it yet. It hurt. Bad. But you move on. There’s not a lot of choice. Whatever happens, if you want to try to go ahead with it, I’ll be here. If you do end up losing it. I’ll be here. If you really think you can’t go ahead with the pregnancy… for whatever reason… I’ll be here, Nat.”

Natasha rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. “What if it does work out? I want to be a mother more than anything, but are we really ready for that, Clint? How would that even work? What if all that happens is we end up breaking up and raising this kid who just hates us for never being there because there’s always Avengers stuff?”

Clint shrugged and reached under the bed. He pulled the car back out and took the control from Natasha and started to drive the car in figures of eight around the bedroom floor while Lucky both chased it and ran from it. “Now? Later? What difference does it make, Nat? We’ll never be ready. Not really. But I love you and I want… all of that with you. We can work it out. Even when we weren’t together, it’s always been you and me.”

Natasha put her foot out and the car banged into it. Lucky pounced on it and flipped it onto it’s back. They both started laughing and Clint pulled Natasha into his arms.

“We’ve never talked about any of this before. Family. Children. Not even marriage. You married Bobbi but you never even brought that up with me.” Natasha said.

“Bobbi asked me,” Clint said. “In fact, Bobbi asked me, took me to Vegas and booked a cabin in the mountains with a spa, so we were married and on our honeymoon within a week of her saying she even liked me like that. The first day I met you, I was in love with you. I would have married you right then and there. But I know you, Nat. That’s never been you. You want to get married?”

You smiled and nosed at his cheek. “Maybe. To you.” She let out a sigh and wrapped her arm around his waist. “I hate the can still hurt me. I’ve been away from them for years and they can still make me cry. I don’t cry, Clint.”

“I know, Nat.” He said gently. “You’re my strong and emotionless girlfriend who I love very much.”

“Has it been long enough?” Natasha asked.

Clint picked up the test and looked at it. There were two indicator windows, a really small one with a single vertical line running through it and a much larger one that had what looked like a big bright pink plus. His heart skipped and for a second he forgot how to breathe. Positive. The test was positive. Natasha was pregnant and maybe she’d end up losing it, but right now she was pregnant with his baby and he was the happiest he had ever been in his entire life.

“Positive.” He said, keeping his voice neutral, in the hope that how happy he felt wouldn’t put pressure on her to do something she didn’t want to.

Natasha looked up at him and slowly her face broke in a smile. “We’re parents, Clint.”

Clint grinned and leaned in and kissed her, cradling her jaw in his large hands. Maybe it would go the way it had for both of them in the past. Maybe they’d have to work through their grief together in the broken, fucked up way they both dealt with things like that. But right now, at this very moment, they were parents and nothing, not even the Red Room could take that from them.

#clintbartonbingo2019 #clint barton #natasha romanoff #clintasha #clint barton x natasha romanoff #hawkeye #black widow #hawkeye fanfic #black widow fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #pregnancy #angst #the test

172 notes · View notes

letterboxd · 4 years

Photo

Best of the Fests 2020.

From 17th-century werewolves to WWII gremlins to present-day nomads, the stripped-back, mostly virtual 2020 fall festivals still managed to bring the goods. Our team rounds up the very best titles we saw at TIFF, NYFF, the BFI London Film Festival and beyond.

LISTEN: Gemma Gracewood and Ella Kemp chew over their festival favorites in the latest episode of The Letterboxd Show.

Kudos to the teams at the Toronto, New York and BFI London Film Festivals for pulling excellent hybrid festivals together in extremely weird, not-at-all-ideal circumstances. From the always-excellent conversations (and Cameron Bailey’s always-excellent suits) to the hybrid options for viewing, we left feeling hope for our favorite art form.

We have been keeping track, over on our Twitter account, of the many film festivals going online, and it’s safe to say that virtual film festivals—and the wider accessibility they offer—have been a silver lining to this mostly awful year. Indeed, the 58th NYFF was one of Film at Lincoln Center’s most-attended festivals, with 70,000+ attendees in all 50 states and beyond. (We participated in a NYFF Industry Talk, along with MUBI and Rotten Tomatoes, about the future of online film conversation, moderated by Indiewire’s David Ehrlich.)

Attempting to replicate the extreme fatigue of the real thing, our festival team (Ella Kemp, Aaron Yap, Kambole Campbell, Jack Moulton and Gemma Gracewood and—helping us bridge the geo-locked divide—Canadian TIFF regular Jonathan White) disregarded international date lines and dove right in. We saw many films to love, but by consensus (and a poke around your Letterboxd reactions) these are the ones we’re still thinking about.

Lovers Rock Directed by Steve McQueen, written by McQueen and Courttia Newland. The ‘Small Axe’ anthology will be released on a weekly rollout on Amazon Prime Video beginning November 20 with ‘Mangrove’, then ‘Lovers Rock’, ‘Red, White and Blue’, ‘Alex Wheatle’ and finally ‘Education’. Seen at: NYFF, BFI London Film Festival.

Lovers Rock, the first part of Steve McQueen’s ambitious, multi-part film project Small Axe, feels like a massive stylistic departure for the filmmaker, in a manner that completely transfixes and astounds. It’s no wonder that this one turned heads at multiple festivals, as it’s immediately warmer, more freewheeling and sensual than any other McQueen work. It’s defined by a hypnotic focus on sound and touch, represented in its earliest scenes with a tactile close-up of a heated comb working its way through hair, and later with its focus on hands wrapped around shoulders, moving across shirts and dresses, people joining together and/or colliding through song and dance. Despite being made for television, it’s astounding how little Lover’s Rock feels that way. Often impressionistic and unbound to the kind of urgency or efficiency that naturally comes with having to adhere to a time-slot, it simply rests in the moment. With the seismic protests being undertaken by Black people this year, Lovers Rock feels like more than welcome respite from a hateful populace—visually rich, gorgeously soundtracked Black joy and love. Also, man, those shirts are incredible. —KC

Nomadland Written and directed by Chloé Zhao. In US theaters December 4. Seen at: TIFF, NYFF, BFI London Film Festival.

“I am already convinced that Chloé Zhao deserves the whole world,” writes Jaime of Nomadland, the TIFF People’s Choice winner. Personal security is something we don’t think about on a daily basis. We have shelter, we can buy food, anything else is bonus. But what if those two basic tenets vanish? While the global financial crisis affected all in 2008, it affected retirees more. Supposedly secure retirement investments vanished; security no more. What do you do? Survive. Zhao’s adaptation of Jessica Bruder’s 2017 non-fiction masterpiece Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century is a beacon of human spirit and survival. It may not be pretty, but it’s real. It’s not something to be embarrassed about, it’s something to be proud of. Those that let this happen to good, honest working people should be the ones embarrassed. —JW

Minari Written and directed by Lee Isaac Chung. No release date announced. Seen at: Middleburg Film Festival.

Minari is the medicine for these tough times. It’s a wonderful, wonderful, deeply personal, utterly serene and metaphysical portrait of America—freedom, faith, superstition, forces of nature, and ambition collide with the costs of intoxicating capitalist dreams, but not without a whole lot of heart. This is elegantly crafted, at once organic in its approach and always sweepingly cinematic. The film’s gentle sense of humor ensures that it never takes itself too seriously and allows the weight of its poetic images and juxtapositions to guide the narrative. The brilliant ensemble should grow to join Steven Yeun as household names (well, cinephile households). Youn Yuh-jung and Alan Kim are bright sparks as the latest classic duo of sassy grandma and precocious grandchild, but it’s Han Ye-ri—taking on the surrogate role of director Lee Isaac Chung’s mother—who provides an overlooked and tender sounding board for familial bonds in fraction. Minari is truly one of 2020’s most invaluable and essential pieces of art, living up to the hype built since Sundance. Korea came to the USA for the Oscars earlier this year, and if 2021 shows similar mercy, there’s a chance you’ll see this home-grown Asian-American picture mounting that stage in future. —JM

Wolfwalkers Directed by Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart, written by Will Collins with Moore and Stewart. Recently released in UK theaters; coming to Apple TV+ December 11. Seen at: TIFF, BFI London Film Festival.

The much-anticipated Cartoon Saloon adventure Wolfwalkers was met with only joy around here. A fable about what happens when a colonizing force tries to tame a wild forest, set during Oliver Cromwell’s Siege of Kilkenny, Wolfwalkers builds to “one of the most sensational animated third acts I’ve seen in years,” according to Animatedantic. The film’s themes are embedded in every hand-drawn line and stroke. “It’s not sleek and seamless and modern,” writes Cow Shea. “This is transparently a true work of art where all the work of that art is part of the finished product.” Mebh and Robyn are animated action heroes for the ages, and you’ll hear a lot about ‘Wolfvision’ in the weeks to come—for very good reason. Werewolf films have, for years, tried different ways to put us inside the beast’s mind, but Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart followed their noses and it’s as thrilling as things get. —GG

David Byrne’s American Utopia Directed by Spike Lee. On HBO and HBO Max now. Seen at: TIFF, NYFF, BFI London Film Festival.

David Byrne’s American Utopia is well on track to join Jonathan Demme’s film of another Byrne stage outing, Stop Making Sense (1984), as one of the highest-rated anythings on Letterboxd. We’re still deciding whether this film is sublime because the stage show itself is sublime, or because Spike Lee has sublimely captured the whole joyous thing for us to inject into our eyeballs, time and again, for far less than the price of a Broadway ticket. Let’s be honest: it’s due to both, and more besides. It’s a blessing upon 2020, of that we are certain. As Clint writes, “The phrase ‘this is the film we need right now’ is such a creaky cliché, but there’s an ineffable feeling that, if David Byrne and Spike Lee can’t heal the world with grey suits, bare feet, and some of the most all-encompassing works of music ever written, no one can.” As my colleague says, “will rewatch to death”. —GG

Shiva Baby Written and directed by Emma Seligman. On the festival circuit. Seen at: TIFF, LFF.

A girl walks into a shiva and bumps into her sugar daddy. What sounds like a joke sets up 77 minutes of note-perfect comedy horror in Emma Seligman’s Shiva Baby, her feature debut adapted from her dissertation short of the same name. It’s funny, horrifying, excruciating and so painfully, accurately Jewish. Isaac Feldberg calls it “cruelly hilarious about everything smothering and inevitably miserable about Jewish family gatherings”, but Seligman’s sharp eye for comedy, her affection for her teen hero Danielle (Rachel Sennott, a bona fide star) just figuring her career out and owning her sexuality (Molly Gordon playing Danielle’s overachieving ex-girlfriend Maya is a highlight) cuts straight to the core, however you relate. Matt Neglia points out how Shiva Baby “captures the behaviors of its characters with the same level of dry wit and detail as the Coen Brothers would”. What a thrill for a young, smart, Jewish, bisexual woman to be setting the pace now. Keep an eye on Seligman’s bright, bright future. —EK

Tove Directed by Zaida Bergroth, written by Eeva Putro. Released in Finland; on the festival circuit elsewhere. Seen at: TIFF.

If there was a film swoony enough to fill the Portrait of a Lady on Fire-sized hole in your heart this year, it’s Zaida Bergroth’s Tove, a bewitching biopic of Finnish author and illustrator Tove Jansson, creator of the beloved Moomin cartoon characters. Set in Helsinki during and post-World War II, the film orbits around her boho world, flitting between her creative struggles as a painter and deep sexual awakening with married theater director Vivica Bandler (Krista Kosonen). As Lillian says, “Lesbians and Moomins is such a huge fucking mood I never wanted it to end.” Alma Pöysti shines effortlessly in the lead role. “The film happens on her fantastic face,” writes Hannu. Seth agrees: “a captivating first-class drama about a world-renowned talent in search of her own identity, love and freedom.” A cozy fall-season perfection. —AY

Shadow in the Cloud Co-written and directed by Roseanne Liang. Slated for a summer 2021 release. Seen at: TIFF, AFI Fest.

A proud addition to the “she did that!” canon, the single downside of Roseanne Liang’s genre-perfect, “deliciously fearless” Midnight Madness winner Shadow in the Cloud is that there was no Midnight Madness to experience it at—but thanks to a juicy sale out of TIFF, we can look forward to a premiere next summer. Chloë Grace Moretz is Maude Garrett, a WWII pilot assigned to transport a highly classified package over the Pacific. The all-male crew of the B-17 Flying Fortress banishes her to the lower ball turret, where they harass, gaslight and leer over her—and that is nowhere near the worst part of this bonkers, non-stop hell flight, which Moretz carries like the future action hero she must now become, if the movie goddesses are listening. —GG

Pieces of a Woman Directed by Kornél Mundruczó, written by Kata Wéber. Coming soon to Netflix. Seen at: TIFF, NYFF.

You will be hearing a lot about Vanessa Kirby in the months to come. Pieces of a Woman is an arresting, often taxing watch, but few actors have delivered a performance as utterly overwhelming as Kirby portraying Martha, a grieving mother processing the loss of her baby. The filmmaking team (Mundruczo and Weber share a “film by” credit) zoom in on deep, jagged pain, and tease out some of the most affecting moments put to screen this year. Jack calls the film “an intensely intimate depiction of mental and marital deterioration caused by tragedy” and nods to master Howard Shore’s “subtle yet potent” score. It’s poetry in motion, with stunning turns from Shia LaBeouf, Ellen Burstyn, Sarah Snook and Benny Safdie also. But proceed with caution: “this film will destroy you”, Alisha Tabilin warns. —EK

Underplayed Directed by Stacey Lee. On the festival circuit. Seen at: TIFF. (Also recommended in our music movies round-up.)

Women-in-the-workplace movies aren’t usually this banging. Stacey Lee’s documentary Underplayed focuses on one corner of the still wildly sexist music industry—the dance-music scene—and lays out both the facts and feelings regarding why women still, always, deserve better. A number of key names guide the story—Rezz, Alison Wonderland, Nervo, TokiMonsta—giving the viewer a taste of what we’re missing out on while booking the same old men, over and over. And it’s not just because of the stats or the injustices that this is a must-watch: in times of limited social interaction and when the feeling of an adrenaline-fuelled crowd feels like a foggy memory, Lee captures some truly electric moments of these women thriving, captivating thousands of music lovers at once. “Buy yourself good speakers and turn them up because this movie is fun and it deserves it,” writes Matt Brown, and he’s absolutely correct. Underplayed is essential and exciting. The most entertaining education of the year. —EK

Another Round Directed by Thomas Vinterburg, written by Vinterburg and Tobias Lindholm. Awaiting new UK date due to lockdown. In US cinemas soon. Seen at: TIFF, LFF.

Another Round reunites filmmaker Thomas Vinterberg with his muse Mads Mikkelsen, in a lads-on-tour buddy movie, except the lads are four middle-aged high-school teachers, and the tour features a very casual, very constant level of intoxication each man commits to in the name of a social experiment. What could possibly go wrong, you ask? Plenty, naturally—but Vinterberg marries the slapstick moments of bumbling drunks falling over themselves with more mature, poignant scenes that question just how far you can or should go to feel that little bit more alive. There’s a lot to love here, but if we’re being very precise, it’s “rock-solid proof that Mads Mikkelsen is one of our greatest actors,” says Karen Han. Come for the wise, contemplative study of youth and spontaneity, stay for rock-solid proof that Mads Mikkelsen is also, somehow, one of our greatest contemporary dancers. —EK

One Night in Miami Directed by Regina King, adapted by Kemp Powers from his own stage play. In select US theaters December 25, coming to Amazon Prime Video January 15, 2021. Seen at: TIFF, NYFF.

Ladies and gentleman, Regina King has arrived. The actor wastes nothing in her feature directorial debut, bringing to the screen Kemp Powers’ vivid stage play of the same name with a heavyweight cast of greats. Kingsley Ben-Adir, Eli Goree, Aldis Hodge and Leslie Odom Jr. are Malcolm X, Cassius Clay (before he took the name Muhammad Ali), Jim Brown and Sam Cooke respectively, as the four men celebrate Clay’s victory over Sonny Liston in February 1964, during One Night in Miami. Rachel Wagner notes how “they all feel like friends and have chemistry, but each with a unique perspective”. This chemistry comes from King’s perfect alchemy of mood, design and structure; she lets her men speak, but her voice is never lost. “Queen King never wavers on her vision until every bit of flesh is torn off each man,” Ben notes, admiring a film that shines for all its famous faces, but stands the test of time for its rich, piercing empathy for every other one waiting in the shadows. —EK

Supernova Written and directed by Harry Macqueen. Awaiting UK and Ireland release due to lockdown; in select US theaters January 29, 2021. Seen at: BFI London Film Festival.

Colin Firth at his very best, Stanley Tucci losing his grip on himself, the luscious Lake District and endless cozy, delicious, warm knitwear. Supernova is every bit as beautiful as it sounds, but also packs a major punch when it comes to mapping a lifelong love story, and the cost of loyalty and pride when you’re fighting against pain nobody can control. As Sam and Tusker, devoted to one another for decades, come to terms with Tusker’s diagnosis of early on-set dementia, there is as much care and sadness as is to be expected, but it still feels brand new and cuts deep. Every good love story is its own. Director Harry Macqueen and his two shining stars understand this better than anyone. —EK

French Exit Directed by Azazel Jacobs, written by Patrick DeWitt. Scheduled for US release January 21, 2021. Seen at NYFF.

Armed with acerbic wit and sharpened claws, Michelle Pfeiffer delivers a vulnerable close-to-career-best performance in French Exit as a mother free-falling from wealth and reconciling with her son, an expertly cold Lucas Hedges. What appears to be formal and dry (“rich white-people stuff”, blegh) is actually wonderfully weird and surprisingly spiritual. There’s a divisive scene at the half-way point that instantly unroots the movie from any grounding we assumed it had established. In any other film, it would open up an entire world of possibilities, but French Exit decidedly treats it as matter-of-fact in order to focus on the emotional journey. It’s the decisive moment—you’re on its wavelength, or you’re overboard—and the rewards for staying aboard are plentiful. Patrick DeWitt’s adaptation of his own novel is in good hands with director Azazel Jacobs. —JM

Still Processing Directed by Sophy Romvari. On the festival circuit. Seen at: TIFF.

A final, honorable mention for Sophy Romvari’s Still Processing, the highest-rated short film out of TIFF, and an excavation of grief like no other. “You’ve got to watch this one twice,” writes Martyn. “First viewing to just weep every two to three minutes. Second viewing to really appreciate how great it is.”

4 notes · View notes

yesloverboy · 5 years

Text

Punk Rock Girl, Please Look at Me (mgk!Tommy Lee x Reader)

Requested: @angelfuzzy2

“Oh well it could kinda be a one shot , But I do have one , where Tommy Meets the reader , like early on in his life , looses her (like lost track of her) later to find out she’s a famous singer and tommy meets her again , at her concert or they meet at a party again and reconnect , but the rest of the band don’t know the reader is like seriously famous yet , just Tommy , but the band finds out later”

Note: Thank you all for your patience! I loved writing this request so much, so let me know if y’all would like to see sequel. As always, I know I’ve been a super slow writer because of my new job, but feel free to send me more requests! They’re pretty much always open, and I’m more than willing to write for the other Crüe boys. :)

Edit: also props to anyone who knows where I got the title from.

word count: 5,632

[Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, misogyny, swearing, drug & alcohol mention/usage, mild injuries, and two pining idiots]

The stage lights are blinding as the last note of the song plays out, the sound of guitar feedback drowning out the roar of the crowd beneath you. You breathe hard, sweat dripping from your hair as a broad smile stretches across your face. This is what you loved most in the world– playing music in front of dozens of your supporting fans. When you sang, they sang every word right back to you. No feeling in the world could ever replace that. You and your band Vertigo are on the verge of a big break, and these are the people that helped get you there.

As you step off the stage, your manager Scott immediately rushes to your side with a towel and a water bottle in hand. You accept both, pouring the water onto your head and shaking off like a dog. Scott raises his hands in an effort to shield himself, but ends up showered with water anyways. You roll your eyes, not knowing what the big deal is. It’s your final show of the tour, he should be used to it by now.

“Hey, Y/N!” Scott calls as you move past him to go to the green room, “There’s a guy out by the bar that’s been bugging all night to see you.”

You turn on your heel to face Scott, eyebrow raised in confusion, “What guy?”

Scott shrugs, “Says his name is Tommy Lee.”

Tommy Lee, your mind reels at the sound of his name. A flash of memories flood your head, all of which playing visions of your childhood. Tommy had been your first friend when you moved to California in the third grade, and ended up being your last when you moved away in high school. All these years, you can’t believe that he would remember you, let alone recognize you.

You give your bandmates a quick heads up, and amble out to the bar area in search of Tommy. Surprisingly, you feel nervous for the first time in years. You aren’t sure what he looks like or what he’s up to these days– and there is always the chance that he wouldn’t take a girl in a band seriously. That happens a lot more than you’d like to admit.

Luckily, you don’t have to search for long before a loud voice calls to you from the end of the bar.

“Y/N! Hey, over here!”

You look over and are caught breathless by the sight of a tall stranger with long, brown hair waving enthusiastically in your direction. He definitely looks different from how you remember, but the smile he’s giving you is just the same. Back in the day, you knew Tommy was a cute kid, but you never imagined he would turn out to look quite this handsome. He’s tall, lean, and completely rocking a pair of tight, leather pants.

Walking over, you muss your hair into some semblance of order and wipe at the remaining eyeliner running from the corners of your eyes. You are fully aware of how much of a mess you look. It’s a part of your thing. Smeared lipstick, melted eyeliner, and ripped jeans are basically your work uniform. Music executives and your fans like you because of how uncaring you look. You’re like one of the guys– only hotter. The problem is, you had never once been self-conscious about it. That is, until now.

As you nervously approach Tommy’s smiling face, you notice he has a slightly busted lip and the ghost of a black eye beginning to form. He stands up from his seat at the bar, towering over you at a surprising height.

“Tommy, is that really you?” you ask, feeling as though you’re practically looking up into his eyes, “How in the hell did you find me?”

“The one and only!” Tommy laughs, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. He still has a familiar smell that lingers with the cigarette smoke clinging to his hair and clothes. “I actually got kicked out of the bar across the street so I came over here,” he answers sheepishly.

“Kicked out? Tommy what fuck–”

“It doesn’t matter, dude, because I found you!” Tommy slaps you hard on the shoulder, his boyish grin still persisting, “Your band fucking rocks, by the way. When did you learn to sing like that?”

“Oh, um, I guess when I moved away? I didn’t have many friends so I turned to music instead,” you reply, face feeling hot from the sound of Tommy’s praises, “Obviously, it’s more complicated than that, but you get the idea.”

Tommy grabs his beer off the bar and tips it back, finishing the rest of it in one gulp, “Why don’t you tell me all about it?”

He wipes his mouth with the back of a large hand and you feel your throat go dry. When you were younger, Tommy had been the one person you could always be yourself around. However, having him barge into your life as a hot stranger is an entirely different story.

“Tommy, I don’t know, man. My band is probably gonna come looking for me.”

“Let ‘em. Remember the old diner at the end of the block? It’ll be just like old times,” Tommy looks at you with pleading, blue eyes, reminding you of the first time you met him on the playground all those years ago. “Besides, my band might just be looking for me, too.”

“Aw, fuck it,” you relent, trying your best to conceal the smile on your face. Needless to say, it’s a losing battle.

...

You and Tommy end up staying at the diner until closing, exchanging old memories over a shared platter of blueberry pancakes and a chocolate shake. As it fate would have it, the two of you still have just as much in common as you did when you were kids. Maybe even more.

It absolutely delighted you to find out that Tommy is still playing the drums– only this time it’s for a band of his very own. He told you that he even found a friend from high school to join Mötley Crüe, but he and Tommy had apparently met long after you’d already left. Vince was his name and, although he sounds like a bit of a diva, Tommy insisted that you’ll like him. Then again, Tommy likes everyone.

Eventually, you’d even gotten around to telling Tommy all about Vertigo and how you had already amassed a large following on the East Coast. When the band’s single got played on a radio station in the UK, that was the moment you all decided to take things to the next level. The only piece of the puzzle that seemed to be missing was the West Coast, which gave you the perfect excuse to end the tour in L.A. and relocate.

“Wait, so you’re back for good?” Tommy had asked, eyes hopeful as he nearly bounced out of his seat.

“For now,” you smiled, knowing that you couldn’t totally be sure. Your chest tightened as you found a small part of yourself wanting to say yes instead.

In your life, you had never been the kind of person who thought they needed to be completed by anyone else. You’re independent– a stand alone personality and the hero of your own story. However, something about seeing Tommy again brought your attention to an emptiness in your heart that you never knew existed. It didn’t make any sense. Being in the band meant you were around guys all day, and not a single one made you take so much as a second glance.

Now, as you and Tommy step out of the vacant diner and onto the strip, you catch yourself staring as the neon lights shift and dance across his face. Much like when you were kids, Tommy’s resting face was one of a perpetual smile– even with a black eye and a busted lip.

“Hey dude,” Tommy stops suddenly, shaking you out of your trance, “you should totally come meet the band!”

“Are they nearby?” you ask, eyebrows raised as you scan the droves of people clamouring along the strip.

Tommy scoffs, “Where do you think I was with before I found your sorry ass?”

You giggle at his teasing tone and ram your body into his, nearly crowding Tommy off of the sidewalk and into the busy street.

“Better watch yourself Bass, or Mötley Crüe might end up needing a new drummer,” you bait as Tommy catches his balance, teetering on a single foot back to the safety of the sidewalk. “Since when did you start going by Lee, anyways?

“Since it sounded so much cooler,” he grins, throwing his long arm over your shoulders and around your neck as the two of you walk onward.

“Cool? When have you ever been cool?”

Tommy glances down at you, knitting his brows together and pursing his lips in exaggeration. “Now that I think about it, right around when you left. Your nerd juice must have stopped rubbing off on me.”

“Shut the fuck up, loser,” you groan in frustration. Although you sound annoyed, you still lean into his side, maybe getting a little bit cozier than you ought to. To your satisfaction, Tommy hums contently and holds onto you just a little bit tighter. At this point in your lives, you and Tommy should have so many degrees of separation between the two of you that it would be impossible to connect again. Yet, here you are. Walking side by side, as if your feet had been stepping in sync with his for all those empty years in between. You wonder if he can feel it, too.

After walking a few blocks, you and Tommy stroll up towards a broken-down dive bar teeming with people. Judging by the leather clad kids in patched jackets and paramilitary boots, it is definitely the kind of punk scene you were comfortable in. Tommy’s pretty-boy appearance causes him to stand out a little, but his attitude makes up for it tenfold.

As you approach the bar, Tommy leads right up to a couple of young guys knocking back a row of shots. A third, more mature-looking man watches them from a barstool, disdain visible even from behind the dark sunglasses over his eyes. The man in the sunglasses notices the two of you walking up together and pulls down his shades to reveal a pair of cold, blue eyes.

“Drummer,” the man nods, “and friend.” Despite the room’s warmth from the summer heat, the iciness in the man’s stare makes you shiver involuntarily.

“What’s up fuckers!” Tommy exclaims, slapping the two younger guys on the back excitedly. The taller of the two spins around first, his mane of fluffy black hair sticking up wildly in all directions.

“Hey T-bone! Where the fuck have you been? Nice shiner, by the way,” his face twists into a mischievous smile as his green eyes land on you, “And who do we have here?”

“Oh yeah! Nikki, this is Y/N. She was, like, my best friend when we were kids. I just found her at a show a little bit ago.”

Nikki nudges the guy at his side, blonde hair and skin-tight tank top making you recognize him as Vince from yours and Tommy’s high school. You never actually got the chance to meet him before you moved away, but Tommy’s description of him being a diva seems pretty spot-on.

“Hey, Vinnie, check out T-bone’s best friend,” you frown at the patronizing lilt in Nikki’s voice, but decide to let it slide for now.

Vince grabs a beer off of the bar, taking a thoughtful swig while he studies you. “Well, well, well– it looks like Tommy’s found himself another one already.”

“Another one, what?” you snap, unable to control your flush of anger.

From what you could remember, Tommy may have been girl-crazy– and a little stupid sometimes –but he was never as arrogant and mean-spirited as the two guys in front of you seem to be coming across. It’s clear to you, even now, that Tommy is still a kid at heart, but his friends were ready to be rockstars down to their very core.

Vince takes a reflexive step back from you, and you smirk with satisfaction. “Uh, nothing,” he flounders, eyes darting between Nikki and Tommy anxiously. From his seat at the bar, you can hear the man in the sunglasses chuckle.

Vince throws his beer in the man’s direction and misses, the bottle clattering noisily to the floor without breaking. “Shut the fuck up, Mick,” Vince’s clearly bruised ego almosts gets a laugh out of you.

“Chill out, dude,” Nikki purs, stepping directly past Tommy and into your personal space, “you don’t have to explain anything to us– we get it.”

Tommy tries to wedge himself between you and Nikki, doing his best to intervene before things can escalate any further. Your teeth are gritted, firmly locking your jaw in an expression of restrained anger. More than anything, you want to wipe Nikki’s smug smile right off of his face. Nikki might be nearly as tall as Tommy, but you refuse to be intimidated.

The only thing stopping you is knowing that giving Nikki a fight would only cause more problems than it could solve. Even then, when you first agreed to be the frontwoman of Vertigo, you promised yourself that you would hold your own with the band guys without ever becoming like any of them. You aren’t about to let some amateur punk change that.

“Dudes, calm down! Y/N is one of my oldest friends, and I swear it’s not like that!”

“Whatever you say, T-bone,” Nikki shrugs, finally backing away from you in favor of leaning up against the bar. He stands there cooly as if he wasn’t just inches away from you. It’s more than obvious that Nikki was never actually going to engage in any kind of fight– the confrontation alone is enough to get him off.

Rolling your eyes, you return to Tommy’s side, wanting to put as much distance between yourself and his bandmates without hurting his feelings. You’re used to dealing with shitty rockstars and wannabe playboys, but since Vertigo’s newfound successes you had been dealing with it far less often.

“Besides,” Tommy continues, talking to no one in particular as he rests a supportive hand on your shoulder, “Y/N isn’t just my friend she’s–”

Realizing that Tommy is about to expose you as the singer of Vertigo, you quickly interrupt. Judging by the way Vince and Nikki feel about you while assuming you’re just some random girl, you decide that they don’t need to know you’re in a band. Hyper-masculine rock types tend to not take kindly to any woman that isn’t Joan Jett, and you aren’t ready to crack open that can of worms.

“Just visiting!” you say, plastering an artificial smile across your face.

For some reason, your reunion with Tommy makes you want to keep seeing him while you’re in town, and the only way that can happen is if you have as little attention paid to you as possible. With the band’s popularity on the East Coast, you know it won’t be long before everyone in L.A. will know your name– even the guys in Mötley Crüe.

“Speaking of,” you turn to Tommy, blatantly disregarding the confounded expression on his face, “I think I should probably be getting back to my hotel right about now. It’s getting late.”

“Uh yeah, sure,” Tommy blinks, “let me walk you there.”

“Come on, man, you don’t have to do all that. It’s way too long of a walk,” you complain knowing full well that you can handle a late night stroll on your own. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

“As if a short shit like you could hold your own in the big city,” Tommy’s joking voice settles your nerves. You turn to lead the way out of the bar, not bothering to say another word to the rest of Mötley Crüe.

By the time you shove past the shuffling crowd of punks and step outside, Tommy has already caught up to you. The night is warm with a gentle breeze that tickles your face, reminding you of careless, childhood summers where your nights spent at home were few and far between. Tommy had been by your side then and, miraculously, he’s at your side now. You find yourself constantly amazed at the way so much can change, and yet stay exactly the same.

“Sorry about all that, dude,” Tommy’s eyes are trained on the ground as he kicks his feet sheepishly, “I don’t know what’s gotten into them tonight. I mean, I know how they are around girls but you’re– you’re different.”

You punch his shoulder playfully, not wanting Tommy to feel responsible for the fact that his friends were clearly just drunk idiots acting like pigs.

“It’s alright, Tommy. You can’t fix stupid. Trust me, I tried to fix you for years.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he grins, eyes finally meeting yours. Every time Tommy looks at you, something stirs inside of you that you can’t put your finger on. The feeling excites and scares you, but you know that all of the best things in life are supposed to make you feel that way. Arm in arm, you and Tommy walk into the neon glow of the night, your heart skipping a beat with every step.

...

The walk ends up being a lot longer than either of you had expected, but neither of you seem to mind. In fact, the further you got away from the strip, the more connected to Tommy you seem to feel. The two of you had passed a cigarette back and forth as you travelled, walking so closely that it was a miracle one of you hadn’t tripped over the other’s feet.

When you finally approach your hotel, Tommy nearly passes it up. He didn’t realize that the art deco building with valet parking is basically your home until you find something more permanent. Your manager had arranged everything for you and, although you argued in favor of a simple motel, he obviously hadn’t listened to a word you said.

“Holy fuck, dude. This is your hotel?”

You suddenly flush red with embarrassment, feeling very not punk rock in the presence of such an extravagant building. “Uh, yeah. It seems that my manager went a little overboard when booking our place, huh?”

“Are you kidding me? This place is rad as fuck,” Tommy turns to you in a sudden burst of energy with a wild look in his eyes, “Do you think you’d let me come up and see the place?”

Although his question is innocent enough, you can’t ignore the way your stomach backflips at the thought of being alone with Tommy in your bedroom. With the recent upheaval of emotions you’d been experiencing since Tommy catapulted himself back into your life, you know that being with him any longer is bound to be a bad idea. It really was getting late, and part of you is starting to wonder if your feelings are real or just a product of exhaustion.

Still, Tommy’s sparkling blue eyes pull you in and you find yourself nodding your head yes before you can give his question a second thought. When the two of you walk inside, you’re too amused by Tommy’s enraptured gaze to notice the weird stares that the staff and other guests were shooting your way. There’s no doubt that you and Tommy stand out among the marble floors and jewel-encrusted chandeliers. Still, you smile all the way to the elevators, noting how small Tommy appears beneath the vaulted ceilings.

“I can’t believe you get to stay at a place like this,” Tommy says as the two of you step into the elevator. You aren’t sure if you’re seeing things or going crazy from exhaustion, but the sight of Tommy’s bruised eye glistening under the golden fluorescents looks strangely beautiful.

“Pretty crazy, huh?” you reply, knowing that the craziest part of your whole return to L.A. is standing right in front of you.

When the elevator reaches the thirteenth floor, you walk out ahead of Tommy, escorting him down the snaking hallway and to the front door of your room. You pry the door open, your breath hitching slightly as you feel Tommy shuffle in behind you. The room is spacious, with a plush king-sized bed and a floor to ceiling view of the city below.

“Damn dude, I really hope Mötley Crüe can come to places like this someday,” Tommy says, sauntering over to the window. He pushes the curtain back, revealing the city lights glittering in the darkness.

“You will.” Even though Tommy’s bandmates were indefinitely jerks, you believe in Tommy’s talent more than anyone else searching for stardom in this godforsaken city.

“Hey Tommy, I think I still have some bubbly the hotel left me if you wanna crack it open,” you bend over, reaching into the mini fridge to retrieve the full-sized bottle of champagne the hotel manager had left on your bed yesterday. While you were thankful for the welcome gift, you had never been one to drink alone. Tommy just so happens to be the perfect excuse to not let it go to waste.

Weirdly enough, Tommy doesn’t answer you. Standing upright again, you set the bottle on the dresser and decide to find out what’s captured his short attention span this time. Turning around, you nearly slam right into Tommy– not realizing he had been standing so close to you. He catches your arms, gently wrapping his large hands around your wrists to steady your balance.

“Shit, Tommy,” you laugh nervously, “I didn’t see you there–”

Before you can finish your thought, Tommy’s lips are pressed against your own. Instinctively, you kiss him back, feeling as though your body is on autopilot while your ability to think rationally takes the back seat.

You shiver as your lips melt into Tommy’s, his kisses becoming more frantic and desperate. Releasing his hold on your arms, Tommy cups the sides of your face. His tongue grazes your bottom lip, silently requesting permission to cross a line you can never come back from.

Gasping into his touch, you give him the freedom to explore. Slowly, he starts distancing his sloppy kisses from your mouth and places them on your jawline. You take in a sharp breath as he goes to work on your neck, your hands finding themselves nestled firmly in his hair as he nips at your throat.

“Fuck Tommy,” you pant, trying to gain some semblance of clarity, “what are we doing?”

Tommy stops kissing your neck to give you a firm look, his eyes dark with desire. “What I’ve always wanted to do,” he replies.

Your heart leaps at his confession, compelling you to kiss him once again. This time, Tommy’s hands snake up your shirt as he pulls your body against his. You yank your shirt up over your head, feeling as though the room is far too hot for the amount of clothes you’re wearing. Before you can start unfastening the button of your jeans, Tommy shoves you roughly onto the bed. You fall dizzily onto the plush duvet, your skin feeling as though its on fire.

“No, baby,” he growls, “that’s my job.”

Tommy discards his shirt, leaving himself standing bare-chested before you. Your face flushes at the sight of his cock throbbing through the constraint of his leather pants.

Fuck he’s gorgeous.

As you stare up at Tommy you can’t help but wonder how he turned out this way. If someone told you yesterday that you’d be moments away from fucking your childhood best friend, you would’ve laughed right in your face. Now here you are, shirtless and squirming with anticipation on your bed.

As you stare up at Tommy you can’t help but wonder how he turned out this way. If someone told you yesterday that you’d be moments away from fucking your childhood best friend, you would’ve laughed right in their face. Now here you are, shirtless and squirming with anticipation on your bed.

Before you can get lost in your thoughts any longer, Tommy is on top of you. Your mouths crash together in a hot disarray of lips and tongue. Tommy goes back to kissing your neck, sucking and biting the soft skin until it becomes bruised between his teeth. With each love bite, his mouth travels lower. All you can do is gasp with pleasure as he places a wet kiss on your lower abdomen, his hands going to work on pulling off your jeans.

As you lay there in your underwear, Tommy kneels before you at the edge of the bed, pausing to admire the shape of your body as it splays out before him.

“God, baby,” Tommy murmurs, his voice barely louder than a whisper, “you look so delicious spread out for me like this...”

Tommy situates himself between your legs, gripping your thighs tightly. You suck in a sharp breath as Tommy begins peppering your inner thigh with soft kisses, his lips fluttering painfully close to your bikini line. He looks up at you, dark blue eyes sparkling dangerously beneath his eyelashes.

“Can I make you feel good, baby girl? I want you to feel good,” his hot breath ghosts against the wet spot on your panties, and you find yourself nodding vigorously in response.

Tommy just shoots you a mischievous grin, licking a wet stripe up your clothed pussy. You are unable to contain the strangled moan that leaves your lips, fingers clawing aimlessly at the duvet for support. Your underwear is soaking wet, and you’re unsure how much longer you’ll last without any actual contact.

“Use your words, Y/N,” Tommy laps at your heat once again, eliciting another desperate gasp from you, “tell me what you want, baby.”

Crazed by Tommy’s teasing, you finally relent, “Please make me feel good, Tommy. Fuck, I want you–I wanted you the minute I saw you.”

Tommy chuckles darkly, aggressively pulling your panties off of your hips and onto the floor. Without so much as a warning, his tongue is on you; lapping at your hot center hungrily. As he sucks on your clit, you feel a large hand dig into the soft flesh of your thigh, raking downwards and scratching your skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” you chant, your abdomen tightening with hot pressure. You grip his hair as your hips involuntarily buck into his mouth, legs shaking as he hums with pleasure against your clit.

“You taste so good,” Tommy moans, curling one of his long fingers inside of you.

You clench around him, unable to keep your orgasm from taking you over any longer. A series of moans fall from your lips, your body hot with pins and needles. With your hands firmly twisted in the sheets, you come all over Tommy’s mouth and fingers.

Sitting upright, you blink at Tommy, mind dizzy with pleasure. “Oh my fucking god, Tommy,” you pant, “where did you learn to do that?”

“Lots of practice,” Tommy winks leaning in to kiss you. His lips are soft and loving against yours, causing a shiver to run up your spine. As the kiss becomes more intense, Tommy peels off his leather pants and climbs on top of you, pinning you onto the bed by your wrists.

“I don’t think so,” you growl between kisses, shifting your weight to wrestle for control.

You bite Tommy’s lip hard, catching him off guard just enough to roll him over. Climbing on top of him, you straddle Tommy’s hips firmly and situate yourself on the rock hard bulge in his underwear. Tommy hisses as you apply more pressure, his hands digging into your hip bones. Grinding against him, you pull him into another heated kiss. Tommy’s busted lip had reopened after you’d bitten him, causing a little bit of blood to drip into your mouth.

Deep down, you know you should stop kissing him like this, but something about seeing Tommy all roughed up turns you on in ways you would never have imagined. Judging by Tommy’s aggressive hold on your hips, you can only assume he’s feeling the same way. Without warning, Tommy shoves you aside to pull off his underwear. When his cock springs free, you are surprised to find that it’s even bigger than you expected.

Seeing your eyes widen, Tommy chuckles darkly, “Think you can handle it, honey?” Your heartbeat quickens as you look at Tommy’s flushed fash and tangled hair, a drop of blood trickling lazily down his chin.

“Try me,” you say definiantly, pushing him back down.

You mount him again, only this time there’s no fabric to separate the two of you. Teasingly, you rub your slick folds over the head of his dick, hoping that– maybe –you can make him beg for it. Tommy hisses as you rake your nails against his chest, leaving a trail of little pink lines behind.

“Fuck, baby, you’re such a bad girl,” Tommy gasps, “Wanna–wanna fuck you so bad.”

Hearing Tommy pleas makes you wet all over again, wanting so desperately to fill whatever was empty inside of you with the man under you. Slowly, you sink onto his cock, your inner walls stinging slightly from the stretch. Truthfully, you had never fucked a guy this big, and Tommy was barely fitting inside of you.

Tommy bites his lip, noticing the strain you’re experiencing. “That’s it, baby,” he coos, “you’re doing so fucking good for me.”

Encouraged by Tommy’s praises, you begin to rock back and forth. Tommy’s breathing becomes heavier with every stroke, and, before you know it, he’s guiding your movements with the grip he has on your waist. He feels good, better than any guy you’d ever been with, and you wonder if this is what you had been missing all along.

“You look so good when you fuck me baby,” Tommy babbles, his hips snapping up to meet yours. Tommy sits up, wrapping an arm around your back to pull you flush against his chest. His face is right up against yours as he fucks into you, your breathy moans falling hot against his open mouth.

Tommy’s fingers snake up your back and curl into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging hard. You cry out from a mix of pain and pleasure, the heat in your abdomen tightening.

“Want me to make you feel good again? Hmm?” Tommy asks, blue eyes fixated firmly on your own. Without giving it a second thought, you nod, rocking your hips into his as sweat trickles in tiny beads down your face.

Suddenly Tommy’s hand firmly grips your throat, applying gentle pressure just beneath your jawline. Your breath catches in your throat as your breathing is restricted, waves of euphoria radiating through your body. Just as your vision begins to go a little spotty, your orgasm rips through you. As you cry out, Tommy’s movements become erratic and sloppy, his pleasure directly feeding on your own.

Tommy’s chanting your name when his orgasm hits, pumping into you while his hands grasp your face lovingly, his eyes never leaving yours. The both of you go limp, breathing and panting hard. Tommy falls back into the duvet, while you remain sprawled out on his chest, lightheaded and thoroughly exhausted.

“Oh...my fucking god,” Tommy heaves, the satisfaction in his voice audible. You can’t help but giggle breathlessly, “Emphasis on the fucking.”

Humming contently, you snuggle into his chest, feeling strangely at peace for someone who just fucked their childhood best friend. Tommy runs his fingers through you hair delicately, the act feeling drastically different from how he had been touching you just moments before. There’s a warmth spreading through your chest that you never knew could be there, and it’s consuming you like a wildfire.

A moment of comfortable silence passes between the two of you. Tommy pets your hair as you trace small circles on his bare chest and, somehow, the exchange feels more intimate than anything else the two of you had experienced together in the past hour.

“Y/N?” Tommy asks, his voice small.

You look up at him to find his expression unreadable. “What is it, Tommy?”

“Can I–can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering, you place a warm kiss to his lips. The sensation is soft and innocent. Gently, Tommy cups the side of your face, his thumb grazing your cheek tenderly. You nuzzle his nose as you pull away, eliciting amused smiles from the both of you. Part of you wishes this moment could last forever, but the self-doubt nibbling at your brain makes possibility of Tommy wanting to be with you seem unlikely.

“Why’d you ask if you could kiss me?” you wonder, finding it hard to believe that Tommy would suddenly think you wouldn’t be okay with it.

Tommy’s brow furrows together and he quickly averts his eyes, suddenly becoming fixated at a point on the ceiling. If you didn’t know any better, you would say he looked embarrassed.

“I just–” he starts with a sigh, running a hand through his chestnut waves, “I just don’t want this to be a one time thing, you know? You’re too important.”

Your heart pounds at his confession, pulse rushing noisily through your ears. When Tommy’s lips touched yours for the first time, you assumed that you wouldn’t be more than a one-night fling to him. Still, when you first saw Tommy that night, you swore you had felt something electric passing between the two of you; and now you know that you weren’t crazy after all. This was the first time you’d seen each other in years, but whatever you were experiencing now was real. More importantly, Tommy was experiencing it, too.

“I don’t think I want this to be a one time thing either.”

Masterlist

561 notes · View notes