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potter-imagines · 4 years

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Smoking 🍃 w/ Your Boyfriend Fred Weasley...

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader Prompt: Thought this was an interesting idea since I think we can all agree the Weasley Twins were def dealers lol

(I’m still on vacation I just had this one in my drafts so I finished it up)

Warning: mature, sexual, weed, smoking, swearing, probs more. If mentions of drugs makes you uncomfortable or you just don’t like it, don’t read this please! as implied by the title, this is literally all about what smoking with Fred Weasley would include

- Okay lets face it

- Everyone and their owls know Fred and George Weasley were the best, most trusted, ‘flower’ dealers in Hogwarts 🍃🍃

- You knew this before you started dating Fred

- It just came as a bonus after getting together

- Fred and George are almost always a little high

- They sell carts, wax, edibles and flower

- Like they’ve got it all, and the best quality

- Their edibles are only for the brave; half the time you get an out of this world high, and other times, your skin is bright pink for a week from their trick

- Lee Jordan also helps them with sales, the three of them are by far the biggest stoners in your year- probably in the whole castle

- Seeing as most Slytherins’ did lines in the bathroom and in their dorms, Fred and George hardly sold to Slytherins

- Most of the money the twins make goes towards saving for their dream joke shop

- But Fred loves to buy you gifts when he has the chance

- Like flowers, a bracelet, butterbeer, candies, books, etc.

- He adores spoiling you

- Fred never makes you pay if you wanna pick up from him

- But he usually prefers you smoke with him or him and George

- “You’re just so adorable when you’re high, sweetheart, I don’t wanna miss a thing. Plus, I’m scared you’ll tweak like a minx if you’re alone.”

- Munchies galore

- You guys will smoke late at night in their dorm with Lee

- George is the designated snack man and will sneak into the kitchen before your smoke session

- Lee shoves towels under the door and closes the vents

- You would probably be the one enchanting the room so the smell doesn’t get out, but Fred really couldn’t care if anyone smelled it

- You’ll usually smoke out the window, then trudge over to Fred’s bed and plop onto of him

- “Jeeze, I think someone took one too many hits.”

- Fred, George, and Lee will mess around, laughing loudly as they pass a blunt amongst the group

- If it’s your first few times smoking, you’d probably just sit in Fred’s lap on the ground, staring off at the floor

- Fred loves to tease you when you’re high

- “Earth to Y/n- come back to us please.”

- “Lovie, you’re eyes, they’re bloodshot as hell!”

- Lots of kisses

- You guys don’t make out too much after smoking as it’s nearly impossible for the both of you

- Dry mouth is a bitch

- Fred is vvv handsy when high

- Like he needs to be touching your skin somehow

- Whether he places you on his lap with his arms around you

- Or laying together in his bed

- Or holding hands on your walk back to the castle after smoking in the forest

- Likes to pinch your butt when you’re walking up the stairs

- He doesn’t really like when you’re high in public

- He can tell when you’re nervous and start getting fidgety, so he’ll ask you to go on a walk with him to calm you down

“Angel, let’s go to the lake, yeah? Think you could use some fresh air, love.”

- Fred will help you if you’re using a bong

- “Here, love, just breathe it in until I tell you to stop and I’ll lift the top.”

- COUGHING IN A SIN IN THEIR DORM

- Whoever coughs first is labeled as a ‘little bitch’ according to George

- Fred scolds Lee and George when they try to make fun of you for coughing

- Like will murder them with his eyes and slap ts out of George’s arm

- “Leave her alone… you know she doesn’t smoke as much as us… it’s completely normal, darling.” “Merlin’s sake, Fred. We’re just teasing her, mate. I think you could use the hit next him, maybe it’ll calm your hormones.”

- George and you will have heated life debates

- “No, George! Dinosaurs were here before people!” “That is not true, Y/n. Humans ruled the earth before those vicious stompers came roaming about. The dinosaurs- or should I say dinomurders- they killed all of humanity! They stomped on them, trapped the kids in those jeeps trying to eat them and ruined the kid’s fun and made destroyed the theme park-“ “George… that’s Jurassic Parks. It’s a fucking movie, you git.”

- Fred likes to wrap his Gryffindor tie around your head and putting his sweaters over you “Aw, you look so cute, darling. I love seeing you in my clothes but my favorite thing is seeing you with nothing on at all.” “Fred! You can’t say that in front of George and Lee-“ “Oh believe me, Y/n. We sleep only feet away from you two- we’ve heard a lot worse. A lot worse.”

- You guys will just lay around laughing for most of the night

- You favorite times were when Fred and George would start talking about their childhood and sharing hilarious stories

- George likes to mess with Fred when he’s high

- For example

- He’ll throw his arm around you and lazily lean into your side

- Fred would watch closely from only a few feet away

- George would then whisper into your ear, causing giggles to erupt from your chest

- Which makes Fred jerk in annoyance

- The weed didn’t help control his jealous- it magnified it if anything

- Typically, he wouldn’t care since he knew George and you were extremely close friends

- But Fred always got a little more… horny and possessive when the weed hit his bloodstream

- Fred would pout until you noticed him and would comfort him

- “Freddie, what’s wrong, bubba? You look so sad, aww.”

- His jealously would diminish the second you moved away from George to his side

- He loves when you hold his hand

- Your favorite thing to do when high is play with his red, vibrant hair or when he would stroke and pet yours

- Fred likes to attempt a braid in your hair

- But he just ends up twisting two strands of hair in a coil then wrapped your black hair tie at the end

- The gleeful, proud look on his face afterwards melted your heart so much you couldn’t tell him he failed miserably at a braid

- You guys will place bets on who will slump first

- It’s usually you or George

- Fred and Lee will stay up until morning talking about life, school, quidditch, life goals, and anything else

- Nights that you did get high with Fred in his dorm, he’d always insist that you sleep in his bed

- He didn’t like taking the risk of you walking alone to your dorm room and risk getting caught

- The last thing he wanted was you in trouble when he could’ve prevented it

- You guys like to sneak into the kitchen after hours and make edibles together

- Preferably marshmallow bar edibles or cookies

- You liked to bring things with you for your smoke sessions with the twins

- Like coloring books

- A blanket, since Fred only sleeps with two which just seems criminal

- A water bottle !!! this is a must

- And some vanilla cherry Chapstick, Fred’s favorite

- Fred’s favorite spot to smoke in along the Black Lake at night

- Coming here with Fred will usually end with the both of you swimming in the lake

- Whether it’s because he pushed you, you pushed him, or it was decided in the moment mutually that midnight was the perfect time for a swim

- You liked smoking out by the lake as it was relaxing and fun with Fred

- But you much preferred his dorm- it was the safest option by far

- Fred loves getting high alone with you

- Typically in his room as your roommates didn’t want people constantly in and out of the room as where Fred, George, and Lee were used to it

- They made a handful of sales from their dorm room

- Like a sinful amount

- It was by far the easiest way

- Fred would light some candles before you arrived

- A variety of sweets and snacks were sprawled against his bed

- And warm fuzzy socks laid out for you

- He’d pack the bowl, then open the window

- A blanket was thrown across the ledge so you could sit more comfortably

- “What a gentleman!”

- After smoking, Fred would carry you back to his bed

- Most nights, you guys would just cuddle and whisper to each other

- Fred never misses an opportunity to kiss you

- On your lips

- Forehead

- Cheek

- Nose

- Neck (which will usually lead to something else with this boy)

- Anywhere

- Continuously giggling all night

- Fred and you share your high thoughts

- “But, just hear me out here. Is there another word for synonym?”

- “Babe, who do you think came up with the alphabet? And how the fuck did they put the alphabet shit in alphabetical order.” “Darling, I am way too baked to even remember what fucking goes in an alphabet.”

- High sex

- Fred makes you feel so comfortable

- Compliments you profusely

- Lot of laughing

- He lovesssss going down on you when you’re both baked

- Cause you make the cutest little noises, euphoria taking over your sense

- He can stay down there for hours just basking in your sweet moans

- Favorite is missionary so he can see every reaction gracing your face

- Is only brave enough to try new sex adventures when he’s either high or drunk

- Discovers that you both very much so enjoy his hand wrapped around your neck as he thrusts into you

- And when you get on top

- His touchy side comes out the most in these moments

- Sloppy sex

- But still vvvv fulfilling and pleasurable

- He’ll whisper in your ear as his pace quickens

- “You look so beautiful, sweetheart. So pure but so dirty just for me.”

- “Merlin, you’re bloody breathtaking with my fingers in your mouth, angel.”

- “Freddie, you feel so good.”

- You both finish within a matter of minutes, never lasting long when in this state

- “…That was the best sex I’ve ever had, ever.” “Fred, lovie, you say that every time we have sex.”

“Cause it just keeps getting better and better!”

- Cuddling for the rest of the night

- Always making sure you’re dressed before George or Lee turn in for the night

- Fred would fall asleep first when it was just the two of you

- He talks in his sleep, nearly every hour he’d mutter something

- In an odd way, you found it comforting

- Especially when it’s your name he’s mumbling

- Falling asleep in Fred’s arms

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maybebrilliant · 3 years

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My ridiculous fandoms:

I know, multifandom much?!

I have a LOT, although I will post mostly AoS shit. (I don’t make things for all of these, don’t worry lmao, mostly I just spectate and sometimes reblog stuff.) Up to know I’ve put them all up in my bio, but I’ve decided only to do the top, say, three, otherwise it just gets wayyy too long. However, I’m putting it all here, so that anyone, if they feel so inclined, can see what shit I’m interested in.

I will also be putting a bunch of my favourite quotes from the shows there, because, well, I’m a total nerd xD.

Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

”With great responsibility comes...a ton of weird shit you are not prepared to deal with.”

“The steps you take don’t have to be big, they just need to take you in the right direction.”

“Sometimes, making a difference means being different.”

Star Trek: Discovery (sauce)

“You had me at unsanctioned mission...”

“Deal with me, universe, while I deal with her.”

And...(though this is not a real quote, exactly) Sauce Afirma Sauce Eterna. :)

Derry Girls

“If anyone is feeling anxious, worried or maybe you just want a chat, please, please do not come crying to me.”

“We got the gist. They ran out of spuds, everyone was raging.”

“Slainte, motherfuckers!”

Julie and the Phantoms

“Chill man, Street Dogs haven’t killed us yet.”

“I cried in a room for twenty-five years and didn’t get a single hug from either of you!”

“Oh. She said oh. That’s what you say if you get socks on your birthday, not when you’re invited to join the most epic band ever!”

Brigerton

“Having a nice face and pleasant hair is not an accomplishment. Do you know what is an accomplishment? Attending university! If I were a man, I could do that, you know.”

“You would actually have to be interesting for me to bother spying on you"

“All is fair in love and war but some battles leave no victor, only a trail of broken hearts that makes us wonder if the price we pay is ever worth the fight.”

Simon Snow series

“You were the sun, and I was crashing into you.”

“Sharing a room with the person you want most is like sharing a room with an open fire. He's constantly drawing you in. And you're constantly stepping too close. And you know it's not good--that there is no good--that there's absolutely nothing that can ever come of it. But you do it anyway. And then... Well. Then you burn.”

“I'd cross every line for him. I'm in love with him. And he likes this better than fighting.”

Avatar the Last Airbender

“Life happens wherever you are, whether you make it or not.”

“My first girlfriend turned into the moon.” “That’s rough buddy.”

“Why am I so bad at being good?”

Harry Potter

“It’s leviOsa, not levioSA!”

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

“Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect.”

The Queen’s Gambit

"I Would Say It Is Much Easier To Play Chess Without The Burden Of An Adam's Apple."

"I'm Not Your Guardian Angel. I'm Not Here To Save You. Hell, I Can Barely Save Me."

“Again?”

Once Upon A Time

"That's How You Know You've Really Got A Home. 'Cause When You Leave It ...There's This Feeling You Can't Shake. You Just Miss It."

"Sometimes The Best Teacup Is Chipped."

"All Magic Comes With A Price."

The Good Place

“I’m just not a ‘new experience’ kind of guy. My comfort zone is basically like, that chair, and honestly? The arms are a little sharp.”

“What matters isn’t if people are good or bad. What matters is, if they’re trying to be better today than they were yesterday. You asked me where my hope comes from? That’s my answer.”

“We do nothing. We hope that our early successes make up for the embarrassing mess we’ve become. Like Facebook. Or America.”

Community

"We'll definitely be back next year. If not, it'll be because an asteroid has destroyed all human civilization. And that's canon."

"GAAYYY MARRIAAGEE!!"

“Our Captain was killed on duty tonight. Leaves behind two kids and a pregnant wife. So you’re missing a Batman DVD?”

Zoey’s Extraoridnary Playlist

“Who wants some freshly delivered, slightly cold, mediocre pizza?”

“Songs are all just an expression of our deepest wants and desires… Joy, pain, heartbreak, yearning, forgiveness, revenge. Good music can make you feel things you can’t express in words.”

“I just found out a guy I like is engaged, and I am either going totally nuts, or I suddenly can hear people’s innermost thoughts as big musical numbers.”

The Old Gaurd

“Depends on the century.”

“You're an incurable romantic...”

“SHIIIIIIIIITTTTTT!”

Merlin (BBC)

“Merlin should take some of the credit, turns out he’s not always entirely stupid.”

“Are you saying I’m fat?” -Arthur | “No, I’m saying the belt is one hole shy away from perfection.”

Artemis Fowl

“I am the future queen of this world, at the very least. You may refer to me as Mistress Koboi for the next five minutes. After that you may refer to me as Aaaaarrrrgh, hold your throat, die screaming, and so on.”

“We lost the crickets,” she said. “Even you can’t make that sound tough.”

“I never tell anyone exactly how clever I am. They would be too scared.”

How To Train Your Dragon

“ Thank you for nothing, you useless reptile!”

“You just gestured to all of me.”

“Toothless, what are you doing? We need her to LIKE us!”

The Dragon Prince

“I’m just a kid. I haven’t fought in any battles. I haven’t read many books of wisdom. I haven’t gone through the things that made my father the king he was. So I’ve decided that I don’t have to be the king my father was. My father made choices to keep fighting battles that started hundreds of years before he was born. To punish enemies for crimes their parents committed! I don’t want to be that kind of king.”

“The dragon prince is alive! And he’s really cute, by the way.”

“What? WHAAAAAAAT!”

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

“Would it save you a lot of time if I just gave up and went mad now?”

“A towel, [The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy] says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (such a mind-boggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.”

“For a moment, nothing happened. Then, after a second or so, nothing continued to happen.”

“The Answer to the Great Question... Of Life, the Universe and Everything... Is... Forty-two,' said Deep Thought, with infinite majesty and calm.”

“Ford... you're turning into a penguin. Stop it.”

sorry for the five I couldn’t choose only 3

But there you have it, my insane, ridiculous, way-too-many fandoms. For anyone who cares. ;)

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refinedbuffoonery · 4 years

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Riley + Sunglasses + Undercover (7)

masterlist.

Read it on AO3.

Second to last chapter! All I can say about this one is....there will be lots of screaming when y’all are done reading.

*****

Riley was vaguely aware of Mac turning off the shower as she muted her comms and pulled her hair out of her face between waves of nausea. His soft “Holy shit” barely even registered over her own voice in her head, replaying the conversation with Petrov.

Call off your dogs and let us and everyone else leave the hotel, and in exchange I will return your locket and won’t expose you as a fraud.

Over and over and over again, her mind replayed the moment where she’d threatened to throw him out the window and watch him splatter on the ground.

And if I don’t agree?

Then I will use my recording of this conversation to clone your voice and command your men to stand down myself before throwing your useless body out the window and taking bets on which direction your blood will spray when you splatter on the pavement.

Unwillingly, she pictured doing just that. While falling, Petrov flailed his arms and legs, like if he just tried hard enough, he could grab onto thin air and save himself. He landed on the concrete like a wet sock.

The mental image made Riley puke again, bile burning her throat.

She’d liked it. The thrill of power, the high-stakes challenge, the adrenaline rush while threatening Petrov. For ten minutes, she was the kind of woman who could stand her ground against Matty the Hun. Riley understood now why Matty fed her reputation as a cold-hearted bitch. A persona like that was brutal, but effective. Riley liked wearing that mask, and that scared the shit out of her more than anything else.

Mac stroked her spine, murmuring “You’re safe. I’ve got you.” His touch didn’t electrify her. It didn’t send her pulse racing and make her breathing uneven. Instead, his touch was soothing, relaxing--grounding her in reality.

When there was nothing left in her stomach, she wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet. Mortification creeped over her as she realized Mac was kneeling beside her wearing a towel. Wearing only a towel.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. She needed to get out of there. God, she needed to get out of there right fucking now because the worry creasing his face and his lack of clothes and the fact that she’d just threatened to murder someone in cold blood and kind of liked it was too much to handle all at once.

Mac looked at her intently, completely not caring that he was practically naked. “What happened?” She looked away instead of answering. ”Riley?”

Riley spied his earpiece sitting on the counter--confirmation he had no idea what she’d said to Petrov. “Mac, I...the person I was in there...she was terrifying. And the worst part was the longer I was her, the easier it was. I liked being her, and then it got out of control.” She met his eyes. Whatever he saw in her face hit him like a punch to the gut; he sucked in a breath and momentarily froze. His reaction vanished in a flash, but Riley didn’t miss it. God, what did he think of her right now?

As if in answer, Mac pulled her into a hug, strong arms holding her steady. “It’s over,” he cooed. “You did what you had to do.” The second his arms wrapped around her, Riley felt all the tension begin to drain from her body, a shuddering sigh escaping her lips in relief. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Riley buried her face in his neck, arms weakly raising so she could cling to his broad, surprisingly cool shoulders. She didn’t have the energy to wonder why his skin was so cold.

Riley focused on the feeling of his hands on her body--one squeezing her waist, the other pressed below her shoulder. It felt as though Mac was the only thing stopping the world from dropping out from under her and sending her plummeting into an abyss of things she didn’t necessarily want to confront.

There was something extremely intimate about sitting on the bathroom floor with Mac that had nothing to do with feelings or the fact that he was essentially naked. Intimacy had nothing to do with sex, and it had everything to do with truth. Being able to tell someone her truth, show someone her most vulnerable self, and their response was You’re safe. I’ve got you.-- that was intimacy. Riley didn’t hesitate to let Mac see her at her most vulnerable. And when faced with her vulnerability, Mac tucked her into his chest and reminded her she didn’t have to deal with shit alone. He wasn’t great at verbal reassurances, but Riley didn’t mind. All she needed was for him to just be there.

I love you, she thought. Almost as if he were responding, Mac pressed a light kiss to her bare shoulder. They’d broken so many boundaries already that night she didn't think twice about it. It just felt right.

Taking in a shaky breath, Riley let the scent of expensive soap and Mac fill her lungs as she fully leaned into him, trusting him to support her no matter what.

“How did you get the scar on your right arm?” he asked after a few minutes of soothing silence. She knew what he was doing. Riley welcomed the distraction.

“Which one?”

“On your forearm, below your elbow. I felt it earlier.”

She finally pulled away. “Oh, that one. I burnt myself while straightening my hair a couple weeks ago. Turns out hot tools and earthquakes are not a good combination.” Her joke fell flat, but Mac had the decency to smile anyway.

That stupid smile. That stupid smile on his stupid handsome face with his stupid chiseled jaw and his stupid blue eyes. She looked away.

Stupid.

Mac’s hand slid down her back, a brief, light touch. It was nothing more than a simple I’m here. Even though it was meant to be friendly and supportive, it set her every nerve on fire. Mac’s hand fell away too quickly, as if he didn’t intend to touch her at all.

She could still feel his lips from their last kiss.

For five minutes, he was just her best friend, but now those pesky feelings were back, full force. She didn’t know enough biology to explain the pain in one’s chest when all they wanted was to be with someone. All she knew was that it hurt. A lot. Those little touches transformed from her lifeline to her destruction.

Riley glanced back at him and found Mac studying her. There was a softness in his eyes that wasn’t normally there. Just enough to make her wonder...no. He didn’t like her like that. Didn’t want her like that.

Regardless, the look reminded her that she owed him an apology. “I’m sorry I snapped earlier. You can call me ‘Riles.’” She missed the nickname.

“Okay.” He cupped her cheek, fingertips tangling in her thick hair. She fought the urge to lean into his touch. “What do you need right now, Riles?” It was too much. The look in his eyes, the hand gently cradling her face--he did everything right, and it was all too much, and something inside her snapped. It might’ve been her heart.

“I need you to stop looking at me like you want me, because we both know you don’t.”

He recoiled as if she’d slapped him in the face. Clearly she’d hurt him, but she didn’t care. The stolen glances, standing too close, holding doors open for her and only her--stuff they’d done for years--all of it needed to stop. What used to be normal was now a cruel trick. The universe laughed while it played her for a fool.

She loved him more than she’d ever loved anyone, and he only saw her as a friend, or worse, a sibling.

Riley stood and walked to the sink to rinse her mouth out, snatching the tiny bottle of mouthwash on the counter. In the mirror, she watched Mac scramble to his feet, barely catching his towel before it slipped.

“Riles--”

She spat the mouthwash into the sink, the taste of bile mercifully gone. “For fuck’s sake Mac, put your pants on.” Riley threw the empty mouthwash bottle into the trash with too much force and stormed out of the bathroom. She heard the frantic rustle of fabric as Mac got dressed. He’d be out in seconds.

She needed to commit to breaking her heart now. Stringing herself along on false hope was destroying her. Her feelings were unrequited, end of story. She was stupid to think them finding themselves alone in a hotel room would turn out the way she wanted it to. She and Mac might act like more than friends, but they were, in fact, just friends with very few boundaries.

He practically ran out of the bathroom, footsteps muffled by the carpet. “Riley, what is going on?” Mac grabbed her wrist and spun her to face him.

“Let go of me,” she growled. He released her wrist immediately. It was unfair, she knew, to direct all the anger she felt at herself toward him, but she did it anyway.

“Is it because I kissed you? I know you said it was okay, but if it wasn’t I need you to tell me, Riles.” He sounded like he was on the verge of panic.

Maybe it was his tone, or the wild look in his eyes, but something about him in that moment pushed her over the edge, sending her plummeting past the point of no return.

“No.” Riley couldn’t stop the words tumbling out of her mouth. “It’s because I want you to do it again.”

*****

I want you to do it again.

She put it all out there, clear as day. And Mac didn’t register it until it was too late. Until she was scrambling away from him as fast as she could.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Every time he looked at her, Mac couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted her. Wanted to be with her, in every way possible. Her eyes said she was feeling it too.

Those fucking eyes. Beautiful, but annihilating. A bridge from his soul to hers.

I want you to do it again. Words he never thought he’d actually hear come out of her mouth. Voice barely above a whisper, he said, “I want to do it again too.”

Everything stopped as soon as the words left his mouth. His heart. His lungs. The thoughts ricocheting in his brain. Maybe even time itself. All awaiting Riley’s response.

It felt like an eternity had passed before she answered. “What?” she said softly, unbelieving.

“I want to kiss you again. And again. And a thousand times after that.” It took every ounce of his self control not to just grab her and kiss her until she forgot her own damn name, but he needed her to come to him.

Riley inched forward. “Only a thousand?” Teasing. She was teasing.

“Millions. Trillions. Or, until either you’re sick of me or I die trying.”

“I could never be sick of you.” She was close enough now that Mac could feel her breath on his lips.

“Guess I’ll just have to die trying then.” He gripped her hands and squeezed before grazing his fingers along her arms. She gasped. Mac flashed back to earlier, at the auction, when he grazed the exposed skin in the middle of her back. So that’s what it took to make her gasp like that again. With painstaking gentleness, he held her face with both hands.

“Can I kiss you?” Riley nodded. A nod wasn’t confirmation enough. Not right now. He prompted, “I need you to say the word.”

“Yes.”

He leaned in slowly, savoring the precious, electrically-charged moment before their lips met. Her perpetually cold hands gripped his bare waist, and for a few seconds Mac forgot how to breathe. He’d loved Riley for years, but in the last few months the switch finally flipped and he was desperately, undeniably in love with her. She was his best friend, his partner in crime (sometimes literally), his confidant, his ally. She was the ground wire to his circuit. She was Hope when his was lost, Courage when he wavered. She was the person who, above all others, he could trust, and together every challenge could be overcome, every problem could be solved.

Mac traced her lips with his thumb until he couldn’t resist any longer, tilting her chin up for the kiss. He stared at those soft, greedy lips he’d thought about far too often before moving closer and brushing his nose against hers, as if drawn together by some unseen force. He’d felt that gravitational pull toward her for weeks, and now that pull solidified into an invisible string connecting them. He pulled back a fraction of an inch, just enough to meet those entrancing brown eyes of hers, and the instant he did, Mac knew he would follow her to the end of the earth.

Slowly, he slid one hand into her hair, thick dark curls tangling between his fingers. Riley leaned into his touch, and he held her gaze and smiled, tucking a curl behind her ear. Finally, for real this time, Mac kissed her, soft and uncertain. She smiled against his mouth, and it wrecked him. Utterly, completely wrecked him. Mac’s whole body ignited. He laced his fingers deeper into her hair as she pulled his body against hers.

Mac memorized everything about this moment: the feeling of her lips on his, the sweet smell of her perfume, the way her nails just barely dug into his back. There was no lust behind it, not like before, just affection, tenderness, and safety.

Pure, undiluted love.

Of course, that was the exact moment Bozer chose to check in on Riley over comms. Mac had never wanted to murder his best friend more than he did in that moment. Somehow, Riley managed to unmute her comms and explain that she was okay and just needed a minute. Mac didn’t know how she did it. Words were utterly foreign to him.

She muted her comms again. “Now, where were we?” Her eyes glittered.

Riley curved her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down to her, their mouths meeting again in a searing clash of lips and tongue and teeth. It was passionate, hungry, desperate. Their bodies wound together, each with a hand in the other’s hair, deepening the kiss and pulling the other impossibly closer. Fireworks flashed on the backs of Mac’s eyelids, and lightning coursed through his veins, but at the same time, kissing Riley was relaxing and reassuring, like being wrapped up in her was the safest place in the world.

The kiss lasted forever and ended too soon.

Riley pulled away first. Mac gripped her waist to stop her and pull her in for another kiss but paused when he beheld the searching look in her eyes. Her eyes flitted about, and her expression was a mix of delight and confusion edged in hunger.

For a brief second, he entertained the thought of that hungry part of her coming out to play. Dude, slow down, the little part of his brain still capable of logic chastised. He focused, waiting for her to say the words she was trying to form.

"We should go before Bozer starts asking too many questions," she finally said. Well that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

"Bozer needs to stop being such a helicopter parent."

Riley snorted. "Then he wouldn't be Bozer, would he." Fair enough. She gave him a playful shove. "Put the rest of your clothes on so we can go."

He wanted to talk about the kiss. He wanted to talk about what the kiss meant, but Mac got the impression that Riley wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet.

Mac retreated into the bathroom to finish getting dressed. He glanced back at Riley, only to find her already staring. Their eyes met, and she looked away.

Clothes back on, he crossed the suite to where Riley stood gazing out a window, having finally given up shamelessly ogling his body. Reaching for her hand, Mac followed her line of sight to the sparkling waters of the Mediterranean in the distance. “Ready?” he asked. She nodded once and smiled, letting him lead her out of the suite.

Without letting go of her hand, Mac opened the door for Riley, and found himself face to face with two well-groomed men in nice suits, each pointing a gun at Riley’s chest.

“Whoa there! I think you guys have the wrong room,” Mac said, squeezing himself beside Riley. One of the guns now pointed at his chest.

The man on the right sneered at Riley. “Oh, I think we’ve got the right one. Isn’t that right, Danika?” He stepped closer, pressing the gun underneath her chin. “Or should I call you Riley?”

Beside him, Riley paled. Well, shit.

*****

Desi was out of the room before Bozer could even blink. He scrambled after her, catching the door before it slammed behind her.

Bozer stepped into the hallway just in time to watch Desi bash Petrov’s men’s heads together, sending them tumbling onto the floor. They never saw her coming. She stood over their unconscious bodies with a triumphant smile on her face. Death incarnate dressed up like a Barbie doll, Bozer thought.

Mac and Riley stood frozen for a second, mouths gaping, before Riley’s lips curled into a wicked grin and she snarked, “Damn, I should give you a raise.”

Wordlessly, Desi strode down the hall and pressed the elevator button.

“Where are you going?” Bozer asked.

Desi grabbed the closest man by his ankles and dragged him to the elevator. “Sending the dogs back to their master.”

The elevator arrived--empty, luckily--and Desi dragged the man inside. Mac and Riley lugged the other one in behind her. Desi pressed the buttons for every floor and stepped back out, waving at the bodies as the doors slid shut.

“So who’s going to tell Matty?” Riley asked. Unsurprisingly, no one volunteered.

“Loser makes the call.” Bozer held out a fist.

The problem with settling matters via “Rock Paper Scissors” was that the game had nearly the same outcome every time. As usual, Mac lost, but only because everyone else cheated. Mac always played “rock” on the first round, so the rest of the team played “paper,” and Mac was declared the supreme loser. It only got messy when someone played “scissors” just to fuck shit up. That someone was usually Desi.

In their hotel suite, Mac looked like he wanted to die on the spot while Matty chewed him out for using Riley’s real name while they were undercover. He’d confessed that after the meeting with Petrov, he and Riley had a not-quiet argument that Petrov or his men must’ve overheard somehow.

Mac and Riley didn’t seem to be upset with each other now, so Bozer wondered what they fought about. Riley even gave Mac a quick shoulder squeeze and a grim, knowing look that set off warning bells in Bozer’s brain that something changed between them.

After further deliberation, Bozer realized that he’d never known his friends to raise their voices at each other and fight. He’d witnessed many full-blown screaming matches between Mac and Desi, but never with Riley.

Bozer didn’t know what to make of that.

Desi and Riley changed into pajamas (bless fake-vacation ops) while Mac was on the phone and decided to check the other room for bugs, in case Petrov somehow managed to plant one while he was in there. Now alone with Mac, Bozer decided to do a little investigating of his own.

He didn’t waste any time beating around the bush. “So, what’s going on with you and Riley?” Bozer knew Riley had feelings, and he was pretty sure Mac did too, although he didn’t have explicit confirmation.

“What do you mean?”

Bozer decided to play dumb. “You two have been acting weird ever since we got here, and now you got into a fight that led to your covers being blown? Something’s up.”

Mac shot him an exasperated look. “Dude, I know you know more than you’re letting on. Out with it.”

“My information is not mine to tell.” He paused. “What happened in the other room, Mac?”

“I kissed her,” Mac confessed with a sigh.

“And?”

“And she kissed me back.”

Bozer was excited for them--he really was--but he was also worried. Mac still hadn’t fully dealt with everything that transpired in the last year, and Bozer worried he’d keep using a relationship to hide from it. And if he did that, then Mac may very well do to Riley what he did to Desi.

And if Mac and Riley ever ended things badly...Bozer would have a front row seat watching two high-speed trains derailing, and there would be little he could do about the near catastrophic destruction.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Bozer asked gently.

Mac looked taken aback. “Why wouldn’t I be? She’s everything I want.”

“Mac, I just think you should take a little more time for yourself before diving into another relationship.”

Frowning, he argued, “Why? If you think part of me is still hung-up on Desi, you are clearly mistaken.” Well, fuck. This was going to suck.

“That’s not what I meant.” Mac narrowed his eyes, waiting. “Can you honestly tell me that you’ve fully dealt with everything that happened with Codex and your dad?”

Mac opened his mouth to defend himself, but nothing came out.

“What I’m saying is that I think you need to take more time to get your shit together before going all in with Riley. Otherwise, you’re risking letting that kind of stuff get in between you.” And drive you apart, like it did with you and Desi, Bozer refrained from adding. “You need to deal with it, but you don’t have to do it alone. You have me, and you have Riley. And I know there are some things that I will never understand, like stuff with your dad, but she does.” He took a deep breath. “Let someone in, Mac. Let her in. The allure of banging her brains out is strong, I know, but you’ve got to build that solid foundation first.” Bozer grinned. ”And make it out of real, reinforced concrete, not the ruined, crumbly stuff we made as a prank in eighth grade.”

Mac chuckled. “Thank you. I appreciate your concern, Boze, but I’m fine, really.” Bozer didn’t believe him for a second. “Besides, I can’t do that to Riley. I can’t turn around and rip it away from her like that.” No, that conversation would not be pretty.

“At the end of the day, it’s your choice. I just don’t want you to have any regrets.”

Mac pulled him in for a hug. “I know,” he said. Quieter, he added, “Believe me, I know.”

*****

It was a little after two am, and all Riley wanted to do was sleep. The auction felt so long ago, yet it had only been seven eventful hours ago.

She let Desi explain that they’d found a bug in the other room, on the underside of the door handle. Petrov must’ve placed it when he let himself out. Riley cursed herself for being too caught up in Mac to consider a small detail like that.

“Well, we’ll deal with it in the morning,” Mac said, looking just as guilty as she felt. “We all need sleep.” Riley nodded in agreement. She glanced at Mac, then Bozer, then Desi, then back to Mac again, knowing the others were doing the same. It was the first step in their “who’s sleeping where” routine.

Riley didn’t have enough energy to battle for a good spot to sleep, so she pulled rank instead. “My op, my bed,” she announced. Without waiting for a response, she unceremoniously plopped on top of the fluffy duvet and closed her eyes.

After a few minutes of squabbling that Riley didn’t bother paying attention to, someone slid into bed beside her. She cracked her eyes open just enough to see Desi rearranging the pillows.

One of the boys turned the lights off, forcing Riley to finally crawl under the covers. She curled up on her side with her back to Desi.

Sleep beckoned, but her brain was still buzzing too loudly to slip into blissful unconsciousness. Riley tried to turn it off, focusing on her breathing instead. With each exhale, she felt herself sink into the mattress, one body part at a time--first her feet, then calves, thighs, hips, torso, arms, shoulders, neck, head. She took one last deep breath and felt her whole body relax, becoming one with the bed. Her brain quieted at last.

Across the bed, Desi whispered, “Are you okay?”

Truthfully, Riley had no idea. She’d had such a rollercoaster of a night that she barely knew which way was up anymore. On the bright side, things seemed to be working out with Mac. But, at the same time, the consequences of being with Mac--Desi getting kidnapped, Mac accidentally blowing her cover--nagged at her.

“I will be.” A true but vague answer.

“For what it’s worth,” Desi said, “I saw you under the mask. Kind, brave, wickedly smart you. I know you scared the shit out of yourself, just as much as you scared Petrov, but you didn’t scare me. You were more in control than you think. And besides, I wouldn’t have let you cross a line you couldn’t uncross.”

Riley didn’t have words to respond, so she just reached across the mattress and found Desi’s outstretched hand. The woman slept like a starfish, taking up way more than her half of the bed. Riley squeezed her hand, and after a second, Desi squeezed back.

Her last thought before drifting off was that maybe she and Desi could be friends after all.

#beth writes #riley+sunglasses+undercover #MacGyver #macriley #Angus MacGyver #riley davis #mac x riley #macgyver fanfiction

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awhitehead17 · 4 years

Text

Universal Signs

Chapter 4 / Previous Chapter

Also on AO3

Enjoy! :D

Tim stares at the food on the table in front of him in deep thought.

He felt exhausted, but was too on edge to try and sleep. He’s starving, but didn’t know whether to trust the food in front of him. He felt so out of place that all he wanted to do was cry, but he knows that it wouldn’t do anything

Tim misses his life back home. He misses knowing how everything works, he misses being able to communicate easily, his friends and even his family.

He’s not sure how long it’s been since he was taken away from them as trying to keep track of time in space was difficult. It happened to be very early into his kidnapping that he lost track of the time and hasn’t been able to work it out since. It could have been days, months or even years, he just simply didn’t know.

It feels like everything that’s happened has been completely out of his control. He was forced away from his family and friends, taken away from his life and forced to live as some kind of prisoner and slave in space which is supposed to be impossible. The only thing he was able to control was his escape from that toxic lifestyle. Tim was able to finally sneak away and successfully hijack an escape pod which freed him from his captives.

It was a short victory that didn’t last long as he once again lost control when he crashed onto some random planet and destroyed the pod. Now here he was, on another spaceship with other aliens, unsure on what to do. Could he trust them? They seemed friendly enough, not wanting to harm him just yet and they even offered him food and water.

He’s annoyed at himself for falling asleep back in the cockpit, his defences dropped because of his body’s exhaustion. When they had woken him up Tim had panicked and thought that his captives had somehow found him until he realised that it wasn’t them, how it actually was just the three random guys who picked him up.

Burying his face in his hands Tim groans, “God this is so fucked up,” he mutters miserably to himself.

When he straightens back up his stomach once again grumbles at his hunger. Tim eyes the food Kon-el had given to him and decides to give in. It couldn’t be too bad if it was all packaged and concealed right?

He opens the packet up, takes one of them out and inspects it suspiciously, they looked like plain square crackers. He gives them a quick sniff to find they don’t smell like anything. Cautiously, Tim bites a corner off and chews it. To his surprise it tasted fine, a little plain but he’ll take that for now.

Tim ends up eating seven of them, basically half the packet. He only stops because he feels guilty for eating that many. While it’s helped ease his stomach he was still hungry for more. When was the last time he ate? He can’t even remember, so much as happened recently that it’s just one of thing he’s pushed to the side.

After eating and drinking (the bottle was simply just water) he sits back on the couch and debates on what to do now. He felt too tense and alert to try and go to sleep despite how tired he felt. He didn’t want to wonder around the ship (he really did want to though) just in case they got mad and took it the wrong way.

Looking around the room Tim freezes when he sees a long thin window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling off to the side of the supposedly kitchen area. Tim gets up off the sofa and walks over to the window, curiously looking out of it.

Even though he’s been in space for what feels like forever, he’s actually never had the chance to look at space. Tim had always been kept in a contained room with no windows and only one door. Escaping in the pod was his first proper time at seeing space but even then he didn’t get the chance to study it, he was too busy running for his life.

Now though he gets the chance to observe the black void that everyone knows surrounds them but very few actually see. He sits down on the floor and leans against the windowpane, staring out into the darkness and lets himself get lost in his thoughts once again.

Tim startles when a noise comes behind him. He smacks his head on the window and spins around in a panic to find the girl, Cassie he remembers, standing there looking at him. He hisses and rubs the side of his head and looks at her with wide-eyes, she simply raises an eyebrow at him probably for the behaviour.

He sends her a forced smile and stands up. He was stiff and his ass was numb from being sat down on the floor for who knows how long. Tim looks at her expectantly, wondering what she wanted. Tim hadn’t even realised she walked into the room until she made the noise to get his attention.

Without even trying to be subtle she looks him up and down, her gaze was intense and it made Tim feel uncomfortable. After a long moment, she turns around and gestures him to follow her as she walks away. Tim follows her wordlessly, however he makes a quick detour to grab the metal pole he had left on the sofa before walking out of the door behind Cassie.

Out of the three apparent crew members, Cassie is the one who seems to be the least happiest with his presence, which is fair enough but it does make Tim feel like he needs to be the most weariest of her.

They begin to walk down the long corridor and Tim expected them to go to the other end where the cockpit was, that’s why he almost bumps into Cassie when she suddenly stops walking only about a quarter the way in. Tim takes a quick step back to keep the space between them and she shoots him an odd look, clearly judging his behaviour again.

Cassie opens the door and walks inside, Tim peers in before following her. He blinks in surprise when they walk into something that resembles a bathroom. It has a sink and toilet against one wall. Adjacent to that was a shower stall and on the third wall was a large cupboard with shelves built into it and a towel rail with three different coloured towels on it.

Seeing the toilet suddenly made Tim very aware of his bladder, he hadn’t realised how much he needed to go until now.

Cassie walks over to the shower stall and opens it up before stepping inside it, pokes her head out and gestures to Tim. Tim blinks at her, completely unsure of where this is going. Surely she wasn’t expecting them too…. y’know….

When he doesn’t move Cassie glares at him, she speaks at him and makes her gesture firmer. Not wanting to anger her even more Tim quickly scurries across the bathroom and stands by the shower stall.

To his pleasant surprise she shows him how to work the shower, shows him what bottle is shampoo and what is body wash and hands him the yellow towel that was hanging up. So thankfully it wasn’t what he had initially been thinking because that would have been awful.

“Uh thanks, I appreciate it,” he says to her. By now he’s got the impression that they understand what he’s saying despite him not understanding them.

Cassie sends him a smile before reaching out and tugging on the shirt he was wearing and unable to help it, Tim jerks away from her in surprise. Not seeming to be offended by the unintentional action Cassie simply rolls her eyes and mutters something in that strange language of hers. After a beat she shakes her head, says something else before leaving the shower stall to head for the door.

Tim watches her go, feeling confused at what just happened. Before leaving the room, Cassie turns back to him and makes a ‘shooing’ motion with her hands as if to say ‘go on then’ and then finally exits the bathroom, leaving Tim all alone again.

Deciding to go with it, he props the pole up against the wall and undresses. Like a lot of other things, he’s only just realising that he’s still dressed in the clothes he had escaped in. It was a simple loose t-shirt, sweatpants, and a pair of socks. He had stolen the clothes from one of the crew members on that other ship and had gotten dressed into them before making his escape. He changed out of his prisoner ones in hopes to blend in with the crew when they weren’t on duty.

He undresses, goes toilet, and proceeds to have what is probably the best shower in his life. The water on his skin just felt so good and it felt heavenly to be clean again. He hadn’t realised how much he missed it. Showering and general hygiene was just another thing that pushed to the side.

However his bliss was interrupted when the bathroom door opens. He freezes on the spot as he sees Cassie walking in, he curses himself for not even thinking about trying to find a lock on the door. He’s quick to cover himself up as best as he can as she walks in, it didn’t matter though because she pays him no attention what so ever as she places what looks like clothes on the towel rail before leaving again.

After that Tim is quick to finish up. He steps out the shower, dries off and changes into the clean clothes Cassie had brought in. A satisfied sound leaves him as he realises that the clothes fit almost perfectly, in the back of his mind he wonders about how she knew his size but he tries to not let those thoughts ruin his moment of being in clean clothes.

Tim was now dressed in a lemon yellow t-shirt, grey sweatpants and neon green socks (which didn’t go but he wasn’t going to complain), she had also brought him clean underwear but he skips out on those just for his own peace of mind. As gross as it is he stays in his own.

Once done, he wraps his stuff up in the towel and walks out of the bathroom. He looks up and down the corridor with uncertainty, where would she be? He soon makes the decision to head for the cockpit, figuring out that’s his best option.

He walks in to find the whole crew there. Cassie was at the dashboard while Kon-el and Bart were sat at the table looking over pieces of paper. They all up look once he enters and Tim sends them an awkward smile, he hates being the centre of attention.

From the dashboard Cassie gets up and makes her way over to him, holding her arms up and gestures to the pile of fabric in Tim’s arms. He hands them all over to her who simply leaves the room without any words.

“Tim.”

His attention turns away from Cassie’s retreating form to face Kon-el who had called him. As Tim walks over to the table the alien silently slides over a bit of paper to him and leans back in his chair, clearly waiting for Tim’s reaction. Tim places the pole down on the table, sits down in the empty chair next to Kon-el and picks up the paper looking it over.

While Tim couldn’t understand the text, he certainly understood the imagery. On the top there was a picture of Earth, below it was a labelled diagram of human figures, male and female. On the back of the sheet was a long bullet pointed list.

Tim glances at Kon-el, not quite getting what the alien wanted from him. “Um, it’s a picture of Earth?” He says after a moment.

Kon-el firmly nods, he then points at Tim and then the picture.

Tim struggles to decipher what he’s trying to communicate. “Is that my Earth?” He pauses before realising it, “Oh! Am I from Earth?”

The alien nods again, smiling.

Tim frowns and opens his mouth to speak but stops himself. He was about to say something like ‘well duh, where else would I be from’ but then remembers where he was and how irrelevant that comment would have been. He swallows and glances at Kon-el, “Yeah, I’m from Earth.” A beat goes by, “And I’m male for the record. A human male from planet Earth.”

That was a sentence he never thought he would have to say in a serious manner.

Opposite them Bart shoots upright in his chair, suddenly looking very excited. He starts talking in that superfast way of his and Tim blinks feeling perplexed. Kon-el seems to snap at him which causes Bart to calm down and then they’re chatting away with one another.

Cassie walks in that moment, she comes to the table, takes a spare seat by Bart and simply slots into the conversation. It takes a while, but they seem to eventually remember that Tim was there with them and gives him some of their attention.

Grabbing another piece of paper, Kon-el draws on it for a moment before turning it around for Tim to see. Across the page in a line were several circles. The first and last circles both had an arrow pointing down above them, Tim notices how the last circle is drawn to look like Earth.

He takes a wild guess, “I’m going to say that the first circle is us and the last circle is Earth?” He pauses to look up, finding Kon-el’s nodding head he continues guessing, “Perhaps the circles in the middle are other planets?”

He gets a hand wiggle for that guess, it was like saying ‘eh, kind of’. Kon-el draws curved lines between the circles all with arrows indicating the motion of moving onto the next.

“The other planets are stop off points?” He guesses a second time, this earns him another nod.

Tim feels his heart starting to beat quicker as hope begins to rise up inside of him. “Are you saying that you guys can get me home? You need to make these stop off points but you can get to Earth?”

He looks at them all with wide eyes, this is the best news he’s heard in a long time. A chance to finally be able to get home. He couldn’t ask for more.

Several beats of silence go by and Tim really tries to not let that get to him. He’s on the edge of his seat looking at the three of them desperately. However, dread starts to stir inside of him as the crew members all share a frown.

“Tim.”

His head snaps to Cassie who was looking at him almost mournfully. She opens her mouth to speak again but soon closes it, she tries a second time before stopping herself once again. Her look changes to one of frustration, clearly angry at the inability to easily communicate with him.

Next to her, Bart quickly says something and in a blink of an eye disappears. By the time Tim had gotten over the fact he simply vanished Bart was back again. He leans over the table and places something in front of Tim.

It’s a watch. An old antique watch. Tim shakes his head, frowning, “What’s a watch got to do with anything?” Bart leans over again and taps the watches face. Tim scowls and leans back in the chair, frustrated. “What do you mean? A watch face? A hand? Numbers? The time?”

Bart nods after he finishes the sentence.

“So time, what? It’s… going to take time to get to Earth, is that what you’re saying?”

Bart nods again but this adds a hand gesture, as if saying ‘keep going’. Tim rubs a hand over his face, god it’s like playing the most frustrating game of charades.

“It’s going to take lots of time to get to Earth?”

Bart smiles and puts his thumbs up in agreement. Tim blinks at him, on the inside he was desperately holding onto the small amount of hope still there. “How long are we talking. Days, weeks, months, even years?”

All three of them shrug and look regretful. Tim attempts process this. So he wasn’t going home and won’t be for a long time by the looks of it. Why did he even let himself hope for it? Of course life wasn’t that simple.

“Fuck!” In rage he smacks the table in front of him. The others jump at the action, but Tim doesn’t pay them any attention as he buries his face in his hands and lets out a strangled noise. It’s not fair.

After a moment he sits back up and glares at the table. Normally he would be embarrassed with his behaviour, especially since he wasn’t one to lose his temper so quickly, but right now he couldn’t find it in himself to care. They didn’t know him so it doesn’t matter.

He could feel himself getting overwhelmed, he could feel it building up inside of his chest threatening to break free. While showing anger was one thing, breaking down and crying was another. Before he completely loses it Tim stands up from the table, refuses to make eye contact with anyone as he announces, “I’m going to go in the other room again. Thanks… I guess.”

Before any of them could react Tim grabs the pole and exits the cockpit. He loses the battle against the tears as he was walking down the corridor and he loses the battle to stay composed once he reaches the other room. He goes back by the window, slides down the wall and just breaks.

Despite how much he doesn’t want it to, all of the emotions he’s kept bottled up ever since being kidnapped and until now, all comes spilling out in one big horrible mess.

#Universal Signs #Space AU #humans are space orcs #Tim Drake #Kon-El #cassie sandsmark #bart allen #fanfiction #core four #Young Justice #Poor Tim

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nazariolahela · 4 years

Text

Best Beloved: Chapter 3

A/N: Hey y'all! This is a PM AU I’ve been working on. It’s a bit different than my previous fic series and I’m really excited to try something new. I hope y’all enjoy it. This story is told in dual first-person narrative, from Kaia (F!MC) and Damien’s POV. The first half of this story takes place during Kaia’s freshman year and Damien’s senior year of college. The second half is two years after Kaia graduates. There will be sprinklings of canon in this fic, but we’ll try to step out of the box for the most part. Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback, and/or if you would like to be tagged.

Catch up here

Series Tags: @burnsoslow @lady-calypso @irishwhiskys-blog

This chapter contains scenes of underage drinking. Please read at your own risk.

Synopsis: What happens when you find yourself crushing on your best friend? For years, Damien and Kaia have been best friends, while secretly harboring feelings for one another. Everything changes one night after a little too much alcohol and years of pent up feelings. Can they control their emotions and salvage their friendship, or will the feelings they hold for one another destroy everything they have?

All characters are the property of Pixelberry Studios. Thanks for allowing me to borrow them.

Chapter Summary: The gang attends their first college football game and frat party.

Kaia

I laid back on my bed and threw my arm over my head, my phone pressed to my ear. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to wear to a college football game, Nadia. Can you please come over and help me?”

She laughed. “Just wear something with the school logo on it. You’re telling me you don’t have anything Bobcats in your closet?”

I sighed. “No, I forgot to run over to the bookstore and pick up a shirt. Do you think they’re still open?”

“You can grab one at the team store on the way to the game. They’re always open before kickoff. Just throw a cute tank top on and slip the shirt over it. Or change in the bathroom.”

I huffed and shoved a Twizzler in my mouth. “Fine. I gotta let you go so I can jump in the shower. Text me when you’re on your way.”

“Will do,” she singsonged and hung up the phone. I dropped mine on the mattress next to me and tried to work up the courage to get up. The mattress wasn’t the most comfortable, but after the crazy first week of classes I had, it was more tempting than getting up to go to a football game. Or a frat party. My roommate Victoria marched in, holding a bag under her arm.

“Just call me your fairy godmother,” she said, tossing the bag on my bed. I sat up and looked inside, seeing a Hartfeld Bobcats t-shirt inside.

“Where did you get this?” I asked.

“Bought one last weekend, but it was the wrong size. I’ve been meaning to take it back, but I never got around to it. Try it on. If it fits, you can have it.”

I jumped off the bed and pulled the shirt from the bag, slipping it on over my black cami. I gasped when it fit like a glove. I stood in front of the floor-length mirror in our dorm room, checking myself out. Daaaamn, I looked fine! I engulfed her in a hug. “You’re the best!”

“It was nothing really. Go have a great time at the game. And tell me all about it tomorrow.”

“You’re not going?” I asked.

“Nah. I met this guy the other night and we have our first date tonight. He’s taking me to this Italian restaurant the next town over. Apparently, the plates are bigger than your head.”

“Ooh! New guy? Dish,” I probed. I didn’t know much about my roommate’s love life. Mainly because she kept things like that to herself. Although, I did find out that first night we hung out that she lost her virginity to some guy named Spike. She told me he roared like a motorcycle when he came. We laughed about it for a good twenty minutes.

She turned crimson, hiding her face behind her long black locks. “Well...his name is Drake. He moved here for school from some foreign country named Cordonia, but he doesn’t have an accent. I think he said his family is from Texas, but he grew up overseas. He’s kind of brooding. Wears a lot of denim. I really like him.”

I squealed and pinched her cheeks. “Well, good luck. And if you bring him back to the dorm, put a sock over the doorknob so I know not to interrupt anything.” She blushed and I winked at her. “Okay, I gotta hit the shower. My cousin will be here shortly.” I grabbed my clothes, a towel, and my shower caddy and made my way down the hall to the shared bathroom in our dorm. Thankfully there wasn’t a line, so I took the first open stall.

After my shower, I slipped on my favorite pair of Levi’s jeans and the Bobcats shirt Victoria gave me. I applied neutral eyeshadow, false lashes, a light sweep of blush, and a swipe of nude lipstick on my lips, checked my reflection one last time, and headed back to my dorm. My phone chimed with a text from Nadia announcing that she was on her way, so I grabbed my crossbody and a hoodie in case it got chilly and headed downstairs. I saw Nadia and Sloane sitting in the cab of a royal blue 1990s Chevy Silverado pickup.

“What is this?” I asked, holding my hands out.

Nadia jumped out of the driver’s seat and rounded the vehicle, swinging her arms out like she was Vanna effing White and this truck was the grand prize. “You like? It’s Steve’s. He’s letting us borrow it to go to the game.”

I scrunched up my nose, examining the beat-up body of the pickup. Is...is that a racing stripe?

Sloane remained in the truck, fiddling with the dials on the in-dash radio. “Come on, you two! We’re going to be late,” she shouted from the front seat. My eyes darted to Nadia, then back to Sloane. I sighed and moved over to the passenger’s side, crawling up onto the bench seat next to Sloane.

We drove the five minutes it took to get from the dorms to the Robert Q. Harris Memorial Stadium, going over our game plan for the night. As we pulled up in the parking lot, we noticed a tailgate in progress.

“Ooh! This is going to be exciting! Your first tailgate, Sloane!” Nadia squealed. She pulled into a spot and put the truck in park. “Okay, girls. Here are your pom-poms,” she said, handing Sloane and I each a pom wand. We exited the truck and walked over to where some other students were playing beer pong.

“Oh, my gods! I’ve heard of this game, but I’ve never seen it played up-close,” Sloane said, clutching her hands to her chest. She moved toward the table and watched the two guys in Bobcats jerseys line up their shots. The first guy’s ball bounced off the rim of the red Solo cup, and his companions all groaned in frustration.

“I’m usually way better than this,” the guy protested as his friends laughed at him. We watched a few more rounds of the game before moving on to another group. Three girls in cut-off Bobcats t-shirts were holding a funnel and a tube above another girl’s head and pouring beer into the funnel.

“Why are those girls drinking beer out of a funnel?” Sloane asked.

“That’s a beer bong. They do this so they can get drunk faster,” I explained to her. She nodded her head, watching the girls in concentration as they assisted their friend in “funneling” her beer, then cheering when she finished it.

“Fascinating,” Sloane said, observing the girls as they lined up for another hit. We made our way through the parking lot, stopping occasionally at different groups to check out their tailgating activities. After several minutes, we made it to the stadium gates. Nadia fished our tickets out of her purse and handed them to the attendant. He scanned our tickets and let us through. We walked through the concourse, checking out the different food and drinks offered at the concession stands. We found our gate and made our way to our seats.

We took our seats and settled in, squeezing into the front row of the bleachers, right behind the home bench. A guy in a BU Wolves jersey sitting at the end of our row slid across the bench and wrapped his arm around Sloane’s shoulder.

“Hey, cutie! You here to check out a little sports ball? Greg here will tell you all you need to know. So, the guys in burgundy are the home team. They’re who you need to root for. That weird spherical object in the middle of the field is called a football. That’s the name of the sport.”

Nadia leaned over and gave the guy a death glare. “Excuse me! Are you actually trying to mansplain football to my friend?”

He raised his hands in defense. “Calm down, babe. I’m just trying to help her out. She doesn’t look like she’s ever watched a game in her life.”

“Who are you to assume she’s never watched football because of how she looks? Get lost, creep,” I spat out.

Sloane cleared her throat. “I’ve got this, girls.” She straightened her glasses and turned to the guy. “For your information, I’ve watched plenty of organized sports. Did you know that the main physical actions of American football, such as blocking, running, and tackling illustrate several fundamental concepts in physics, biomechanics, and math? It’s quite interesting to calculate how many pounds of water a player loses on the field or how much energy it takes to stop a running back in a full-on sprint.” She crossed her arms over her chest and smirked at the guy. He hung his head sheepishly and got up from his seat, scurrying away embarrassed. Nadia and I sat there in awe, then dogpiled her in a group hug.

“Have I told you you’re my hero?” I asked her.

“I’m dating the first-string wide receiver and I didn’t even know that,” Nadia chimed. Sloane laughed and returned our hug before turning her attention back to the field. Both teams were announced and we leaped from our seats and cheered as Steve jogged past us to the bench. He spotted us in the crowd and shot Nadia a wink.

The game kicked off and the Bobcats received the ball first. The quarterback threw a 20-yard pass to Steve on the first play, and he took it to the house an additional 60-yards to put the first points on board. I thought Nadia was going to pass out with how hard she was screaming and jumping up and down.

The opposing team got the ball next and their running back broke through the line on the first snap for a 45-yard play before he was tackled by the Bobcats defense. They drove down the field on the next play and tied it up. Both teams went score for score throughout the game, and it came down to a tied score of 35-35 during the final two minutes of the fourth quarter.

The Bobcats had the ball at their own 45-yard line. It was 3rd and 2. The running back lined up in the backfield while Steve lined up off the line of scrimmage to block and wait for the center to snap the ball. The QB called an audible at the line and when the ball was snapped, he slung it to a wide-open Steve, who danced down the sideline 50-yards as time expired to give the Bobcats a 42-35 win. Nadia tossed her popcorn and her pom in the air as the stadium erupted in cheers. Steve’s teammates engulfed him as they celebrated on the field.

We filed out of the stadium and waited by the team entrance for Steve to arrive. When he emerged a few minutes later, Nadia took off in a dead sprint and leaped into his arms, nearly tackling him to the ground.

“YOU DID IT, BABY! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU,” she shouted as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, peppering his face with kisses. Sloane and I watched in amusement as Nadia and Steve mauled each other in the parking lot.

“Okay, lovebirds. Let’s save some of this for the afterparty,” I said, rolling my eyes. Steve set Nadia down and we made our way to where his truck was parked. We climbed in and set off for the Delta Mu Kappa house.

When we pulled up to the curb, the party was spilling out onto the front lawn of the frat house. We exited the pickup and weaved through the throngs of partygoers to enter the house. The bass thumped through the room and dancers moved erratically to the beat on the makeshift dance floor.

Steve held Nadia’s hand and guided us through the living room to the keg set up in the kitchen. The guy operating the tap extended his hand to Steve for a high-five, which he returned, then poured beer in cups for him and Nadia. He then offered Sloane and I a drink. I declined, but Sloane accepted. The guy poured her a beer and she took a sip, a dollop of foam coating the tip of her nose. Her face turned up in disgust.

“This tastes awful,” she said, wiping the foam off her nose and upper lip and handing the cup back to him.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Steve laughed, taking a sip of his own. Nadia pulled on Steve’s arm, urging him to the dance floor. He nodded at Sloane and I, then followed her to the living room. Keg Guy pointed to a red cooler and offered us a couple of Smirnoff Ice Wild Grapes. Sloane and I took the drinks, clinking the bottles together in cheers, then each took a swig.

“Oh my gods, this is delicious,” she shouted over the loud music. We leaned against the kitchen counter, scanning the crowd. After a few minutes, she noticed someone from her Spanish Comp class and excused herself to say hi. I continued to crowd watch, sipping on my Smirnoff, when I noticed Damien striding toward the keg. His eyes met mine and a grin spread across his face.

“This doesn’t look like your scene,” I said to him.

“Yours either,” he retorted.

I laughed. “Touché. Nadia’s boyfriend invited us. At least the refreshments are top-notch.” I tipped my drink up to him. He chuckled and moved over to the keg, grabbing a fresh beer from Keg Guy. He nodded thanks and walked back over to where I was standing.

“Nadia’s here? I’m going to have to say hi to her sometime tonight.”

“Yeah, she and Steve are out dry-humping on the dance floor.”

He threw back his head in laughter. Gods, I missed that laugh. “So, what do you think of your first college party so far?”

“Who said this was my first college party?”

“Just a guess. If it was, I’m sure we would have run into each other by now,” he said, taking a drink. “Nice shirt by the way. It looks good on you. Did you go to the game?”

I looked down at my shirt, noticing the way it hugged my curves. My cheeks flushed as I avoided his gaze. “Yeah, Nadia’s boyfriend is the star wide receiver so we went to watch him,” I said, brushing a piece of lint from my shirt.

“Mhmm, Tennyson. Yeah, he had a hell of a game. That 50-yard TD at the end was nuts. No one could cover him. The kid’s a machine.”

What a weird thing to say. I took another sip of my Smirnoff and scanned the crowd. “So, where’s your girlfriend tonight?”

He sputtered and started choking on his beer. I leaned over and slapped his back a few times until he regained his composure. He wiped the beads of beer dribbling down his chin with the back of his hand. “She’s around here somewhere. What about you?”

“My girlfriend is at home waiting for me. Parties aren’t really her thing.”

His eyes widened, which caused me to burst out laughing. “I’m kidding, I don't have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend for that matter. I’m just here with my friends. Who have all conveniently disappeared. But that means I can scout the local talent for my next boo.”

He cleared his throat and hid a smile with his cup. “Well, good luck with that. You have your pick of the litter with this new crop of freshmen. What about him over there?” He pointed his cup to the dance floor.

I squinted, trying to follow his line of sight, but with it being so dimly lit, I was having trouble making out most of the faces in the crowd. “Who?”

He leaned in to guide me to where he was looking and I got a whiff of his scent. Masculine. Earthy with hints of leather and sandalwood. I closed my eyes and inhaled, trying not to make it obvious. The smell caused the butterflies in my stomach to flutter wildly. Memories of our last night together flooded my mind and I took a step back and chugged the rest of my drink, trying to tamp down my urges. I spotted the guy he was pointing at — a shorter guy with curly brown hair and glasses — nursing his beer as he made eyes with different girls on the dance floor. “Wait...I-is that Brad?”

He burst out laughing and I leaned over to slap his arm. My palm touched his bicep and the firmness of his muscles against my hand caused my breath to catch. I narrowed my eyes at him and shook my head. “Not funny, dude.”

“It was worth a shot. Hey, I’ll be right back. I gotta hit the head,” he set his empty cup on the counter behind me and winked as he moved through the crowd toward the bathrooms. I watched him until he disappeared from sight and clutched the empty bottle in my hand, willing my nerves to calm. You can do this, Kaia. It’s just Damien.

But could I?

***

Damien

I made my way through the packed fraternity house, trying not to bump into anyone as I headed for the bathroom. When I reached my destination, the door was shut and only one person was waiting. I leaned against the wall and tapped my fingers against my thigh. The door swung open and a drunk guy stumbled out, allowing the girl in front of me to enter.

I looked back toward the kitchen and could still see Kaia leaning against the kitchen counter. The strobe lights danced off her features as she was leaning over talking to the kid manning the keg. Whatever he said made her throw her head back in laughter. A tinge of jealousy coursed through me. Why was I jealous? She wasn’t mine. And besides, I had a girlfriend. Somewhere in this house. Speaking of. I pulled my phone from my pocket and sent her a text, asking her where she was.

The girl in the bathroom came out, and I entered. I shut the door and leaned forward, resting my hands on the sink. Staring at my reflection, I sucked in a deep breath and tried to get my emotions in check. Having Kaia back in my life after four years was fucking with my head. When she laughed, I wanted to do everything possible to keep hearing that sound. When I leaned in to point Brad out to her on the dance floor, her hair brushed against my nose and I inhaled the scent of her shampoo. It smelled like lavender and rosemary. When she smacked my bicep, I wanted to grab her wrist and pull her to me, to feel her body pressed against mine.

My phone chimed with a text from Alana, breaking me from my Kaia spell. She said she was in the backyard and asked where I was. I gave her my location, then set my phone back down on the sink and turned on the cold water faucet. I cupped my hands and splashed water on my face. A few moments later, someone knocked and I heard Alana’s voice on the other side. I swung the door open and she strutted inside, closing the door behind her and leaning back against it.

“Well, looks like we’re all alone in here, huh?” she said, sashaying across the bathroom to where I was standing. “Why don’t we pick up where we left off since we were so rudely interrupted the other day?” She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled my head down, capturing my lips in a searing kiss.

“Alana, baby. We can’t. Not in here.”

“Why not? We’ve never done it in the bathroom of a frat house before. It could be fun.” She said, pulling the shell of my ear between her teeth.

“What if someone comes in?”

She backed away from me and locked the door, never breaking eye contact. “Better?” she said, arching her eyebrow. I sighed and moved in, kissing and sucking the curve of her neck. She brought her hands up to my hair, raking her fingers through the thick strands. “See, this isn’t so bad, is it?”

I growled into her neck and dragged my hands down her hips, catching the hem of her shirt and pulling it up. When my fingers skimmed the strip of skin, she inhaled sharply. Our lips crashed together and she scraped her nails across my scalp. My fingers trailed lightly up her ribcage and brushed against the lace trim of her bra, causing her grip on my hair to tighten. A loud pounding on the other side of the door startled us.

“Yo, you about done in there, bro? Some of us gotta take a piss,” A guy’s voice called out.

Alana growled, “Motherfucker!” She huffed and pushed herself off of me. Fuming, she straightened her clothes, checked herself in the mirror and yanked the bathroom door open. The drunk frat bro on the other side jumped when she appeared.

“Whoa! I didn’t know it was this kind of party! Hey, baby! If you’re done with this dude, I believe it’s my turn,” he said, reaching out to stroke her arm.

She rolled her eyes and brought her knee to the frat bro’s groin, dropping him like a hot potato. The people in line behind him all groaned as Alana stomped away. I leaned down and rested my hand on the drunk guy’s shoulder. “You should probably learn how to talk to girls, bro,” I said, patting him a few times before walking off. I scanned the party for Alana, but when I couldn’t find her, I pulled out my phone and texted her to ask her where she went. Several minutes passed with no response, so I made my way back to the kitchen. I saw Kaia still standing in the same spot, talking to a girl with curly brown hair and glasses.

“Took you long enough. Did you fall in?” she said, raking her eyes up and down my body.

“Long line. It happens.” I turned to her friend, “Hi! I’m Damien. And who might you be?”

The girl extended her hand. “Sloane. Sloane Washington. So, you’re Kaia’s mysterious hot older friend. Wow, I can see why she’s so enamored by you,” she said, winking. My eyes darted to Kaia and her cheeks instantly turned pink.

“Sloane! What the hells?”

“Oh, whoops! Was I not supposed to say that out loud?” she giggled, slapping her hand over her mouth. “I probably should stop drinking these.”

I chuckled and turned back to Kaia. “Hot older friend, huh?”

Kaia looked down at the floor, her silky strands falling in her face. I resisted the urge to reach out and brush them away. “Don’t let it go to your head, Dames. You know how good you look.”

I cocked an eyebrow and Sloane giggled. “Well, thank you. I’m glad that my looks haven’t gone to shit yet. I figure I’ve got about five more years before Father Time superkicks me in the face.” My comment drew laughs from both of them.

“So, how do you two know each other?” Sloane asked.

“We grew up together,” Kaia answered quickly before taking a long pull of her drink.

“What she means is that she lived next door to me and always hung out at my house because all the kids her age were losers, so she wanted a ‘cool friend.’”

Kaia rolled her eyes, trying to hide a smile. I turned back to Sloane. “How was your first week of classes?”

She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Pretty good, but my Calc class is going to be tough. The professor is a nightmare.”

“Dr. Carson? Yeah, he’s a real ball-bust...err...I mean, he’s strict. When I had him freshman year, he made a girl cry the first week of class. He also grades on a curve.”

Sloane’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me that! I have to take Calc II with him next semester too.”

I laughed and turned to Kaia. “What about you? Any classes or professors you want to run screaming from yet?”

She shook her head. “Thankfully, no. Although there’s this super creepy guy in my Interpersonal Comm class that keeps hitting on me, even after I’ve rejected his advances.”

I hummed. “You should probably punch the guy. I’ve heard that gets your point across pretty effectively.”

She laughed and I felt my chest tighten. Gods, I loved that sound. I asked the girls if they both wanted another drink, and they nodded yes, so I made my way over to the cooler and retrieved three Smirnoff Ices. I handed them to the girls, and when Kaia took hers, our fingers brushed. Her breath hitched and a smile tugged at my lips. She twisted the bottle cap off, not meeting my eyes. I popped the top of mine and took a long swig, my face turning up in disgust. Holy shit, this stuff is awful. How do chicks drink this garbage? I looked over at Kaia and saw her watching me. She noticed my facial expression and burst out laughing.

“You gonna finish that?”

“Fuck, no. This is all you,” I replied, handing her the bottle. I moved over to the kid manning the keg and asked him if they had any rum.

“I think there’s some in the liquor cabinet, bro. Right over there,” he replied, pointing to a China Hutch on the other side of the fridge. I walked over and opened the cabinet, examining the contents inside. A few bottles remained. A thin layer of dust coated the shelves where liquor bottles once sat. I spotted the bottle of spiced rum toward the back. Thanking the liquor gods, I grabbed it and dusted it off. I grabbed a red Solo cup off the counter and poured two fingers of the golden liquid into the glass, taking a sip. Damn, this shit is smooth. I made my way back over to where Kaia and Sloane were still talking and held the bottle up to them.

“You girls wanna play a drinking game?”

Sloane shook her head. “I’ll pass. But thanks for offering. I’m going to go use the bathroom.”

My eyes darted to Kaia. She shrugged. “Sure. Why not? Let’s do this.”

I smirked and moved over to Keg Guy, asking if he had a deck of cards. He pointed me to a drawer next to the sink. I opened it and found a deck of adult-themed novelty playing cards. The box had pictures of women in various states of undress. I rolled my eyes. Classy. Kaia and I moved over to the kitchen table and I poured more rum into my glass. “Okay, so this game is called the Nazario Chug…”

“Wait...you have a card game named after yourself?” Kaia asked suspiciously.

I chuckled and began shuffling the cards. “Long story. We came up with it my freshman year. So here are the rules. You take the top card. Black card means dare, red means truth. If you fail or want to dodge your task, you drink according to the number on your card.”

“Ooh, a new twist on truth or dare. This should be interesting,” she said, taking a sip of one of the bottles of Smirnoff.

I smiled and cut the deck then placed it between us on the table. “Hey, save your drinks for the game. Okay, since this is your first time playing, you go first.”

She leaned over and grabbed the first card and flipped it towards me. “Five of diamonds. So, red.”

I nodded. “Truth. So, what do you think about Hartfeld so far?”

She cocked an eyebrow at me. “Softball questions right off the bat? I thought this game would be more of a challenge.”

I laughed. “I don’t want to be too hard on you your first time. Answer the question or drink.”

She pressed her lips together and hummed. “It’s okay.”

“Just okay? Come on. You can do better than that.”

“Well, the classes are good. The professors seem cool. And I’ve already made a few friends.”

“But…” I probed.

“I don’t know. It’s only been a week. I feel like I can’t give a more detailed answer just yet.”

I nodded. “Fair enough.” I reached over and pulled the next card from the deck. Three of Clubs and black. I shook my head and Kaia’s eyes lit up when I turned the card to face her. She laughed maniacally and rubbed her hands together. “You’re going to make me embarrass myself in front of the whole party, aren’t you?” I groaned.

She tapped her finger against her bottom lip, the motion drawing my eyes to her mouth. Her lips were so plump, I wanted to lean in and taste them. She caught me staring and snapped her fingers in my face. “Hey, space case. Pay attention. Here’s your dare. See that blonde doing a keg stand over there?” she pointed to the keg where a freshman girl — being held up by two frat bros — sucked the beer from the lever while a small crowd cheered her on. After several moments, she gagged and beer shot from her nostrils, causing her to start coughing.

“You want me to do that?” I asked. She giggled and nodded. I shook my head and moved over to the keg. One of the frat bros noticed me.

“Hey, man. You wanna get in on this?”

I sighed. “Yeah, let’s get this over with.” I braced my hands on either side of the keg’s rim and lifted my body weight. The two frat bros grabbed each of my legs and held me up as I grabbed the tap and opened the lever, allowing the foamy liquid to pour in my mouth. I chugged the beer as Kaia and the crowd around us started chanting, “Chug, chug, chug.” Thirty seconds in, the beer must have gone down the wrong tube, because I started choking and spat up beer. The crowd moaned and the two frat bros helped me down. I moved back over to the table, where Kaia was crouched over laughing, holding her stomach.

“Holy shit. That was awesome!”

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, freshman. Draw your damn card.”

She wiped the tears from her eyes and retrieved the next card. A frown formed on her face and she turned the card to face me. The King of Clubs, black.

“Payback,” I smirked. She groaned and threw her head back. My eyes scanned the crowd, looking for someone to recruit for Kaia’s dare. I spotted a kid with frosted tips and a denim jacket that screamed late ‘90s, leaning against the wall. He looked completely out of his element. Bingo. I pointed to him. “See that guy over there? I dare you to go over to him and pretend you’re his biggest fan.”

“Wh-what?”

“Then, you have to get a selfie with him.”

She gnawed on her bottom lip for a few beats, then nodded and took a deep breath. My eyes stayed glued to her as she rose from her seat and straightened her clothing. “I’ve got this,” she said with a cocky tone. She smirked and marched over to where the guy was standing. I watched in amusement as she gripped his arm with both of her hands and shouted, “Oh wow! Are...are you Niall Horan?” The guy gave her a confused expression as several people turned around to look at them.

She released his arm and pretended to fumble with her phone. She then tapped the screen and handed it to a random girl standing nearby. Jealousy coursed through my veins again as the guy snaked his arm around Kaia’s waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek. The girl held the phone up to snap the photos and I watched them, trying to tamp down the feelings. I pushed back from the table and started walking toward them when a pair of arms caught me from behind.

“There you are! I’m ready to go when you are,” Alana slurred, clutching my midsection as she swayed on her feet.

I watched Kaia as she chatted with the guy. A smile spread wide across her face as he leaned in to whisper something in her ear. As much as I wanted to go over there and claim her, I knew I couldn’t. I sighed and turned around, wrapping an arm around my intoxicated girlfriend’s shoulder. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

She slipped her hand in my back pocket and guided me through the crowd toward the door. I looked back and caught Kaia’s eye as we retreated from the kitchen. She stared at me, her face void of emotion. I gave her a weak smile and led Alana out of the house to our car.

#best beloved #pm au #college au #friends to lovers #perfect match #choices fanfic #damien nazario #kaia park #damien x mc #nazariolahela fanfic

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sirjustice209-blog · 4 years

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What new

Most clothes, socks, shoes and buddings that bores people much often are made using cooked cabbage.

Mathew 24:14 the end will the come as Kebi preaches the good new of how to make machine parts and gadgets that have enslave many a nations 4 such a long time but once every nation has learnt the same the the tyranny associate with such to the previously few nations who used to make such to threat those not making with sanctions if they fail to adhere to their ways will soon atrophy. The Good news sent to every nation via Instagram or Fb esp just googling every nation name then follow with news, like USA, Mexico, China news then send personal message as well as post on comments to reach large influx of people

If u place tetanus virus, made, i peoples food, 1 way or another it robs ya body shape as it denatures altogether ya body and many know not and help such people with denatured body to point figures to others a voodoo but so if it has affected the other person who has partaken ya food stuff. Get this straight dude!!!!!

If Dogs don’t want ya as somehow not friendly with ya, then precisely u can harbor green man gene, the Dogs never was friendly with them if u aint a criminal and the white people sponsor so many people all-over the world 4 that and many know not of that that they got the above and that’s why the hate directed to them or being sided as green man wanted things his ways and was doing everything to the later. Jamaicans are green blooded and 1 character of green-men they never like Cars but preferred motor/speed boats as majority were engineers.

They use drones in dark starless midnight to take clothing as used, bedding, pillows, duvets, bed sheets, used towels, shoes, socks or mattresses load them to Passenger drones get up-to 20 Km above the sky then to the sea where the ship is located then land on the ship where the above off-loaded b4 they get back to repeat the same process even 4, 2 months doing the same where such loaded are brought/shipped to Africa as 2nd hand/used clothes. Not 1 drones but many and they got their locations on land where such loading done after such gotten from shelters, Nursing homes and churches take to an agreed place per state to facilitate secrecy and the above, deluding folks its oil ship yet not to facilitate the above. But once we got E-vehicles now we wanna catch them handy b4 reproach as they have shown where no-fuel tanker will be seen on oceans to be like sunk to pollute water out of oil-spillage. This interns hamper the growth of African small clothing industries breeding unemployment which they claim they are fighting. This as well dubious plan is done in collaboration with African dignitaries.

In USA schools u cant wear clothing 4 more than 3 months b4 they give ya an outcry prompting buying of new attires which build the USA while leads to much used clothing brought to Africa encouraging the above. So remedy is to not give to charity or church ya used clothing as shoes but create personal friends with whom u help directly in Africa via Facebook or Instagram or any social media to grow the courier not corrupt government officials using the dubious ways below. Minaj and Robinson,u got me, i hear u dont wear ya thong twice or bra, am your personal friend now, send me such in courier like DHL so i pick up using security features like my body temp 36.4-6 depending with if i was resting or walking, pulse rate 68 and body fat composition index or the company can take finger prints of all its customer to facilitate the above as my Kenya ID no is 26540140. Click the link below 4 more

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So much coffin around looking 4 customers, if u dont wanna work hard, dont disturb us dude, look at avenues u can die, we buy 1 we put u in. U aint a kid we stay with u yr out yr in without u leaving us to be on ya own as no exit plan. I did not give birth to ya neither u my baby period.

1 who can make gadgets can give it to another group of people to be accepted lest he place a camera gets to a room and u see a flash of light in dark boom b4 the lights are opened to see the real machine. Without such above it can destroy the whole society as women can cringed to such people without 2nd thought with like Kantaka Ghana, Innoson Nigeria or Bamba Tv Kenya, same people body structure to delude others they were yesterday looked down upon while now is outspoken their wisdom which aint the case as described above.

Click the link below 4 more dude

https://www.facebook.com/messages/t/371538973414457

When using carry1st as withdrawing cash online kinda, ya face drops off like in the song link below. Can take ya to hell, excuse will be we saw ya face drop off

https://www.google.com/search?q=face+drop+kingston&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&client=firefox-b-ab

The siren gas cylinder of a plane can be armored glass and even the airplane itself. Where with the siren gas cylinder, it can harbor a hole horizontally cross it where heavy led security lights are place to warm the gas inside as the inside of the same gas container contain reflectors mounted on the circumference at intervals, as alternating so not all side is the reflector, to create a pool of heat inside as the bulb lights are reflected to give it a hard time 4 the bulbs to burn which may fallen the plane. It lengthens the plain safety and elevate risks associated with plane fall as a result of the misfortune described above

With the 12 v step up transformer to 1000 volts, it means half of 12 Volts gives us still 500 v we can weld with, still 3 volts DC gives us 250 V to be used in households. So the starter comp producing 12-24 Volts is enough dude as in the link below

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fi.ytimg.com%2Fvi%2Fy_npCFF9GlI%2Fmaxresdefault.jpg&imgrefurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dy_npCFF9GlI&tbnid=6aLF-BAXmz-mcM&vet=12ahUKEwijvLKF4NPpAhVE4BoKHVcwDBQQMygCegUIARDzAQ..i&docid=RZ7CFV9nkHxJkM&w=1280&h=720&q=12%20volts%20to%201000%20volts%20step%20up%20transformers%20images&client=firefox-b-ab&ved=2ahUKEwijvLKF4NPpAhVE4BoKHVcwDBQQMygCegUIARDzAQ

https://www.google.com/search?q=12+volts+to+1000+volts+step+up+transformers+images&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwjy1aeZ39PpAhVDQRoKHTkmCd0Q2-cCegQIABAA&oq=12+volts+to+1000+volts+step+up+transformers+images&gs_lcp=CgNpbWcQAzoCCAA6BAgAEEM6BAgAEB46BAgAEBhQhL0MWODYDWCW2w1oAHAAeACAAZACiAGWV5IBBjAuMy40N5gBAKABAaoBC2d3cy13aXotaW1n&sclient=img&ei=qzTOXrLUDsOCabnMpOgN&bih=627&biw=1024&client=firefox-b-ab

Airplanes can move more than 1000 km/hr but the fear is the wings being chopped off the air out of much friction brought about now by at that speed needs a thicker metal which again harbors plane taking off to reduce our long distances in air. This can be achieved by making planes without the wings as with some missiles as seen in below links. Some places can sink, if they halt truth but it keeps on shifting from place to place, maybe they are praying, as synonymous with WSU or Britain as China cause they got all tools to bring solution yet still joining the playing dice with peoples destiny.

Do not now tint my image as u have been locked out in ya dirty deals of frustrating me like u have done to others, give evidence but lucky we are as all ya dubious ways are now blocked by the same fellow u tint his image, rather leave him alone earlier but now to little too late and continue in ya dirty business cause he never given it a hoot lest i come around like a boomerang and hurt ya

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thecloserkin · 4 years

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book review: E.L. Konigsburg, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frakenweiler (1967)

Genre: children’s literature

Is it the main pairing: yes

Is it canon: n/a

Is it explicit: n/a

Is it endgame: n/a

Is it shippable: yes

Bottom line: ‘sup i’m here to retroactively ruin your childhoods by excavating aaaaallll the incestuous subtext

“Two middle schoolers run away to New York City and live in the Metropolitan Museum of Art for a week” is a premise that would never fly in our present surveillance panopticon. It works just fine in the sixties though! This is a well-nigh perfect book and I didn’t reread it on account of the incest subtext, but once I had reread it it was impossible not to ship (and when I say ship I mean aged-up characters since these are prepubescent). Elder sister Claudia is a dreamer. Little brother Jamie is practical to a fault. They complement each other like peanut butter and jelly. Here is a typical exchange between them:

”But if we make a real discovery, I’ll know how to go back to Greenwich.” “You take the New Haven, silly. Same way as we got here.” “That’s not what I meant. I want to know how to go back to Greenwich different.” “You can take a subway to 125th Street and then take the train.”

Amazing, right? Initially she’s trying to Prove a Point by running away because she feels under-appreciated at home—props to E.L. Konigsburg who was unabashedly out here agitating for Eldest Daughter Rights:

Claudia was the oldest child and only girl and was subject to a lot of injustice.

Of all her brothers she picks Jamie to accompany her because he’s got the most money squirreled away. That moment when she singles him out still kills me:

Claudia sighed, “I don’t want Steve. Steve is one of the things in my life that I’m running away from. I want you.”

I DON’T WANT STEVE I WANT YOU. If we flash forward to halfway through the novel, by which time a period of sustained teamwork has forged Claudia and Jamie into a single unit:

What happened was: they became a team, a family of two … You might call it caring. You might even call it love. And it is very rarely, indeed, that it happens to two people at the same time—especially a brother and sister who had always spent more time with activities than they had with each other.

This passage establishes conclusively that Claudia and Jamie weren’t especially close before they ran away from home, that this adventure has changed them, and isn’t that what falling in love is, stripped down to the very kernel of its essence? You undergo a transformation. Which is why I’m arguing for a submerged courtship-and-marriage narrative beneath the surface narrative of “kids just want to have autonomy and be taken seriously” (it’s still a superb book even if you just read it on that level though!!! you don’t have to be wearing shipper goggles to enjoy it).

One of the great joys of this book is Jamie’s deadpan humor. This is him after Claudia explains they’ll be stashing a few changes of clothes in their empty instrument cases:

“All in a trumpet case? I should have taken up the bass fiddle.”

Claudia plans their getaway in excruciating detail, and from start to finish it goes off without a hitch—although when she told him to “destroy” the note she wrote, she probably didn’t expect him to swallow it lmao. Watching Jamie be dramatic is fun because he never does it out of an excess of feeling, he does it out of an excess of caution (later on he nearly batters a door down because he’s convinced Claudia is slitting her wrists in the bathtub). Jamie’s sense of humor is most effective when Claudia and Jamie are bickering like an old married couple:

”How come you didn’t take art appreciation lessons with me the summer before last?” “Well, the summer before last I had just finished first grade…It was all I could do to sound out the name of Dick and Jane’s dog.”

Let’s just take a minute to appreciate how on-point this sibling banter is. They find a candy bar on the floor, still sealed in its wrapper:

Claudia: ”Was it bitten into?”

Jamie: “No. Want half?”

Claudia: “You better not touch it, it’s probably poisoned or filled with marijuana.”

Here’s when he picked which wing of the museum to visit with the express aim of boring her:

Many painters of the Renaissance had painted huge billowy, bosomy naked ladies. She was amazed at Jamie; she thought he was too young for that. He was. She never even considered the possibility that he wanted her to be bored.

Tfw when your dumbass younger sibling does something that makes you want to throttle them:

It caused Claudia to want to embalm Jamie in a vat of mummy fluid right that minute. That would teach him inconspicuous.

Among the shenanigans they get up to while living at the Met, the time when these two INVENTED TELEPATHY to avoid getting busted by museum security has got to take the motherfucking cake. Runner-up is the fact they call each other “Sir James” and “Lady Claudia” on the way to the commissary to purchase potato chips for dinner. Then there’s the iconic bathing-in-the-wishing-fountain scene—it’s the next best thing to sharing a bath right? If this were a romance novel there would come the pivotal moment when feelings are confessed to and this is it:

”I didn’t run away to come home the same.” “Well, this has been more fun than camp. Even the food’s been better.” “But Jamie, it’s not enough.” “Yeah, I know it’s not enough. I’m hungry all the time.” “I mean the difference is not enough. Like being born with perfect pitch…or getting the Academy Award. Those are differences that will last a lifetime.” ”I think you’re different already, Claude.” “Do you?” “Yes. We’re all sane, you’re insane.” “James Kincaid!” “Ok ok I’m insane, too. I’ll go along with you.”

Note that Jamie does not disavow his prior claim—Claudia is insane, no two ways about it—but he’s willing to throw in the towel on the whole “being sane” project merely to keep her company. If that isn’t true love I don’t know what is. I just. Can’t get over how they are SO MARRIED and know each other SO WELL:

”You know, Claude, when I’m not wishing I could give you a sock right in the nose, I’m glad you’re on my team. You’re smart even if you’re hard to live with.”

”Jamie, you know, you could go clear around the world and still come home wondering if the tuna fish sandwiches at Chock Full O’Nuts still cost thirty-five cents.”

”You’re never satisfied, Claude. If you get all A’s, you wonder where are the pluses. You start out just running away, and you end up wanting to know everything.”

Yes, Claude is his pet nickname for her and he kind of employs it to annoy her but at the same time, nobody else calls her that do they?? He’s the only one. Just like he’s the only one who gets her. ”We’re the only two people in the whole world who live with it,” says Jamie, referring to a new exhibit they’ve grown attached to, but he could just have easily been referring to this entire scheme of Claudia’s that landed them in the museum in the first place.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

The mystery of the new exhibit, a cupid statue of uncertain provenance, eventually drives the kids to call on the eccentric old lady who donated it from her own personal collection, the eponymous Mrs. Frankeweiler. But first a word about why Claudia is so bloody-minded about getting the dirt on this statue, which may or may not have been carved by Michelangelo. “Finding a secret can make everything else unimportant,” and Claudia is above all someone who relishes the hoarding of secrets. Discovering proof of the statue’s authenticity would enable her to go home the same on the outside but profoundly changed on the inside. If we’re diagramming this story Claudia’s lowest point is definitely when their funds are nearly depleted and they’ve exhausted every avenue of inquiry wrt the statue:

Jamie let her cry for a while. He sat there and fidgeted and counted the number of benches. She still cried; he counted the number of people on the benches. She was still at it; he calculated the number of people per bench.

So Jamie is absolutely useless at dealing with her emotional outburst but he readily acquiesces to spending the last of their money on a taxi to Mrs. Frankenweiler’s house. This is kind of a big deal for Jamie, considering we have him on record saying this:

”I haven’t been a tightwad all my life, have I?” “As long as I’ve known you.” “Well, you’ve known me as long as I’ve known me.”

That’s the sound of me screeching loud enough to bring down the roof. First of all did you notice that for Jamie “being alive” is synonymous with “knowing Claudia”!!! Second, he’s been vetoing Claudia’s motions to take taxis instead of buses/trains for …the entire book up to this point!!! And he says yes to this hail-mary pass in the form of Mrs. Frankenweiler because he knows Claudia needs the truth more than he needs the money. He goes along with it to please her, even if it goes against his most basic instincts. And that’s Jamie Kincaid in a nutshell: he’ll follow his sister anywhere.

The reason I want to dwell on Claudia’s fetish for keeping secrets is because it strongly supports my “submerged romance narrative” reading of the novel:

Claudia doesn’t want adventure. She likes baths and feeling comfortable too much for that kind of thing. Secrets are the kind of adventure she needs … That was why planning the runaway had been such fun; it was a secret. And hiding in the museum had been a secret. But they weren’t permanent.

YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BE A PERMANENT, falling in love with your brother now there’s a secret you’d have to no choice but to take to your grave JUST SAYIN CLAUDIA. Like, yes they figure out the “truth” about the stupid statue but it’s the way they figure it out that matters, it’s Jamie inadvertently supplying the missing piece of the puzzle because as smart as Claudia is, as much as she’s 100% in the driver’s seat of this marriage partnership she couldn’t have done it without him. And the way it ends!! So open-ended!! So much scope for shipping!!! They resolve to adopt this lonely old lady since they’ve lost their own grandma(s), and to take day trips to visit her, and to keep any future visits secret from their parents too. What I love about Mrs. Frankenweiler as a character is that she’s the friend that Claudia and Jamie both desperately need. It’s instantly obvious why her and Claudia are kindred spirits; she susses out Claudia’s motives with little trouble:

”Because you found that running away from home didn’t make a real difference? You were still the same Greenwich Claudia, planning and washing and keeping things in order?”

What’s less immediately obvious is why Mrs. Frankeweiler and Jamie would get along like a house on fire:

”You won it at cards?” I could see the admiration grow in Jamie’s eyes.

Jamie, an inveterate cardsharp, is duly impressed. Mrs. Frankenweiler displays wily strategic thinking by extracting information from Jamie while Claudia’s in the bath, which devastates Claudia because she knows information is the only coin they possess to bargain with, but poor Jamie is like IN MY DEFENSE I HAVEN’T TALKED TO ANYONE ELSE FOR A WEEK AND I FORGOT HOW TO KEEP A SECRET. This is so sweet that these kids have not spoken above three sentences to another soul since they ran away from home. Their unplanned sleepover at Mrs. Frankenweiler’s also yields the funniest exchange in the entire fucking book, which goes like this:

Claudia wanted very much to let us know that she was annoyed and why. She acted cool. I pretended I didn’t notice. Jamie didn’t pretend; he simply did not notice.

“I’ll skip the soup,” Claudia announced.

“It’s good,” Jamie said. “Sure you don’t want to try it?”

I am DEAD and GONE. Claudia is subtly snubbing Mrs. Frankenweiler, but subtlety simply does not register for Jamie who operates entirely on a surface-meaning level. So he does what he does best (other than cheating at cards) which is urge Claudia to eat delicious food. He’s constantly thinking about food and whining about how hungry he is. But here he’s coming from a place of “this soup is lit, I care about Claudia so I want her to enjoy it too.” I love this scene sfm because it’s a harbinger of their future: Jamie’s totally the type to walk around obliviously in love with Claudia because as we’ve established he’s incapable of ascribing non-literal meanings to things, and she’ll have to clobber him over the head with the truth and it will be glorious. For those of us who ship incest because we like the idea of “secret” knowledge or a “hidden” text that only we have access to, this is it: This book is pretty much perfect.

While we’re here allow me to rec this pitch-perfect futurefic (11k words) chronicling Claudia and Jamie’s further adventures after they go home. It’s not shipfic but it’s startlingly in-character—even the authorial voice reads like Konigsburg’s—and since canon itself is a trove of shippy content, i’m a happy customer. This is Jamie’s BFF Bruce (the one he regularly cheats at cards): “Look, Jamie, am I your best friend or not? Or is it your stupid sister?” “SHE’S NOT STUPID!”

#book review #e.l. konigsburg #mixed up files

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homesoutofhuman · 6 years

Text

Soft: John Wick/reader one-shot

Warnings: so much soft you might die, sex and daddy kink (sorry not sorry)

Requested by @johnwickthirstclub (sorry your ask still never came through so hope this is something like you wanted)

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soft/sɒft/

adjective

easy to mould, cut, compress, or fold; not hard or firm to the touch.

having a pleasing quality involving a subtle effect or contrast rather than sharp definition."the soft glow of the lamps"

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You’ve slept deeply, yet when the alarm goes off you groan, something inside you does not want to leave your cosy cocoon and the thought of facing the day fills you with dread. John reaches out an arm, silences his phone then glances back to you. You move to cling onto his warm back like a limpet.

“Don’t wanna get up today John…”

John exhales, as usual, he has trouble refusing you much, if anything at all. He turns and strokes your hair out of your face, placing a kiss on your cheekbone.

“Let’s take it one step at a time hmm? I’ll make coffee…”

You reluctantly let him go, watching and appreciating his boxer-clad form as he walks to the bedroom door. John feels your gaze on him and pauses, glancing back to where you’re barely visible above the mountain of soft covers.

“At least you’re not too sleepy to ogle me…”

“John!” you whine in embarrassment, hiding under the covers and you hear him give a low chuckle before closing the door.

You doze, but the smell of fresh coffee brings you round. You sit up in bed, well aware your hair is a mess and sip the cup that John has brought you. He sits beside you for a moment, his dark eyes running over you. He looks concerned, and you can sense he is formulating a plan.

“I’m okay John. I just don’t feel like facing the world today y’know?”

John gives a gentle sigh, but you know he is more worried than mad. He lifts the strap of your camisole back up to your shoulder where it had slipped down. His touch makes you shiver and you watch him a little wide eyed through the steam from your cup.

“How about we have a day just us?”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, glad that he understands, and abandon your coffee to throw your arms around his broad shoulders. John strokes his thumb on the bare skin of your back.

“You go back to sleep for a bit...I’m going to sort a few things out, all right?”

You chew your lip, you’d really hoped that John would get back into bed and cuddle you, but you know he has some work obligations he can’t avoid. You nod and snuggle back down. John tucks you in and leaves you to rest.

You can sleep through a lot of things, but the smell of food is not one of them. You drag yourself from the sanctuary of your bed, not bothering to dress, pushing your feet into your knitted slipper boots before padding into the kitchen.

John is making breakfast, and you wrinkle your nose, hopping up on the bar stool to watch him. He gives you a focused but gentle glance.

“Feeling better?”

You shrug and rub your eyes, not wanting the spoiling to stop anytime soon. John smirks and tips a pancake onto a plate in front of you.

“How about you try and eat something for me, baby?”

You start to cut your food and he moves behind you, giving you a brief hug before taking the cutlery out of your hands.

“Let me…”

He offers you a syrup laden fork and you roll your eyes, not liking to feel like a child. John raises a dark eyebrow and you open your mouth obediently, not wanting to piss him off.

“Good girl…” he says and you blush, both from humiliation and from how much you enjoy his praise.

John lets you finish the rest of your breakfast yourself, but insists on stealing the banana slices off your plate. You slap the back of his hand and he gives you an amused look.

“So if you don’t want to go outside what do you want to do?”

You flush and look at him through your lashes and John snorts. “This is about you relaxing…”

You open your mouth to protest you do find that relaxing but he puts a finger to your lips and you look up at him meekly.

“How about we play one of those stupid games you like so much?”

You nod excitedly and lead him to the couch and turn on the games console. You beat him at Mario Kart a few times and you can see his frustration rising. His skill in real life driving is not transferring to the game and he grunts, letting out various curse words directed at his tiny avatar.

The effort of playing tires you out and you fling yourself back against the couch cushions dramatically. John is rubbing his temple. “I think we need a break.”

He turns off the screen and glances back to you. You can see something in his eyes that you don’t quite catch onto quick enough before he has you in his arms. You’re pressed against his broad chest and you whimper at his sudden rush of emotion.

“I love you….” John murmurs in your ear.

“I love you too John.”

He places a searing kiss against your neck and you gasp a little breathless.

“...John…”

His eyes drift to your mouth, his gaze turning heated. You sit stock still, feeling like he’s cast a spell on you as he rubs the back of his knuckles against your cheek and you almost purr.

“Let’s watch a movie…”

You’re a little annoyed at him for not kissing you, so you choose the Disney delight that is Frozen, thinking it won’t be his cup of tea, but you see him tapping his foot out the corner of your eye, and even when you push yourself into his arms for a cuddle his eyes remain fixed to the screen, caught up in the story. However by the end you can see see him getting antsy, his knee fidgeting up and down and not to the rhythm of the music. You stroke his leg soothingly, but you can feel the pent up energy pulsing out of him. As soon as the credits roll he turns to you.

“I might go for a run, you’re sure you don’t want to come?”

“I could do a walk maybe?”

John looks so delighted you rush to pull on your jeans. He jams a woolly hat over your ears and kisses your nose.

He holds your hand as you walk through the neighbourhood. You don’t really feel like seeing anyone you know, so you keep your head down and your eyes averted. John leads you through a small woodland clearing, it is empty except for the birds, the trees and him. You relax and start to look around, taking deep cleansing breaths of oxygen.

John is wearing his soft brown coat, the cold turning his cheeks a little red. You can see the flecks of grey in his beard and you feel so fond, so hopeful that you will spend the rest of your life with this man. Not for the first time you feel a yearning in your heart for the patter of tiny feet.

“John...when can we get a puppy?” You attempt to sound casual, swinging his hand up and down.

He glances down at you. “This again? They’re so much work…”

“But just imagine….we could bring it on our walks...snuggle with it on the couch…”

“Aren’t I enough for you to cuddle?” John asks, pretending to be offended, grabbing a handful of leaves and throwing them in your direction.

You easily dodge out the way, screaming with laughter. “You are...but a puppy would be so cute…”

“Aren’t I ‘cute’?” he says with a quizzical grin that makes you heart pound. John grabs you and pulls you into his arms, still pouting with mock offence and you reach up and caress his face.

“No. You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever known.”

He almost growls in response, bending to nip at your ear as if he were in fact a puppy. “Well hey now you completely destroyed my argument….”

“Then you’ll have to give in…” you pant, stroking your hands into his dark hair as his tongue sneaks out to suck your earlobe.

“I always do with you…”

When you return from the walk you’re freezing, despite the hat and coat, and you ball your hands into fists trying to warm them up. John takes them between his own larger ones and rubs until you can feel the blood moving again.

“Thank you.” you say through teeth clenched with cold and he makes an annoyed sound.

“Come on….bath time…”

You can tell he is upset at himself for letting you get so cold, but to be honest you hardly noticed, you were too caught up with him. You strip off your clothes in the bathroom, feeling John’s eyes on you and pour a full cup of bubble bath into the water. John sits on the floor beside the bath and dangles his hand in the water. He has taken off his shoes and socks and crosses his bare feet under him. He looks casual, soft, so unlike he does when he’s dressed up for work, and your heart aches with affection.

“You know you could get in with me…” you suggest as casually as possible.

“No...you enjoy it…” he leans up and kisses you once, far too briefly then leaves you languishing in the warm water until your skin starts to prune.

You pull yourself out of the bath and somehow John is there to help you. He wraps a white fluffy towel around you then takes another to gently dry off your hair, getting out most of the moisture and leaving it damp around your neck.

“You look so cute like this…” he tells you, and you try not to glare.

You put your pyjamas back on and join John who is lounging on the couch. He is wearing his Henley shirt and old jeans which spark many pleasant memories. They have a few holes and are fraying at his ankles. It makes you sad to think he will have to one day get a new pair. You sit between his legs on the floor. John begins to comb your hair and you wince when it catches on the tangles.

He spots you of course. “Does that hurt?”

You tilt your head, trying to look back into his brown eyes.

“A bit.”

“I’m sorry.” he rumbles, kissing your cheek from behind. “But we gotta get the tangles out, right?”

You nod and try to relax as he continues. John finishes up then puts down the comb, placing his large hands on your shoulders and kneading your muscles.

“You’re still so tense after that bath?”

You sigh. “I can’t help it.”

“Oh, little one….”

John bends to kiss your neck and you feel yourself relax, both from his mouth on your skin and the tender pet name.

“...come sit up here with me….you wanna watch another movie?”

You lay on the couch and put your feet in his lap. John takes one and starts rubbing, it is bliss. You groan and shift your feet in his lap. John ignores the brush of your feet against his crotch, focused on draining every bit of tension out of you until you’re a boneless mess.

“No movie...too loud just...let’s just sit.”

John nods and flicks on some classical music which fills the background with quiet ambience.

“Don’t mind if I read do you?”

You shake your head and he grabs his book, keeping your feet in his lap and still stroking them with one hand, using the other to hold his book. You gaze at him lazily. His profile is perfect. Dark eyelashes which brush against freckled cheeks, a regal nose, his supple looking mouth. You grumble and arch your back off the couch, starting to feel a little restless from doing nothing all day.

Almost as if he senses your thoughts John puts down his book to turn you around on the couch, placing your head in his lap. He moves his hand to your mouth, caressing your bottom lip and tapping it. You feel a shiver through your body and open your mouth, sucking two of his fingers inside. You calm instantly, the pads of his fingers sliding against your tongue. You nip at the joint and he darts a sharp look at you, so you suck his fingertip in apology.

John turns back to his book and you squirm a bit in his lap, letting out a low desperate sound around his fingers and John pauses.

“Problem?”

You shake your head urgently.

“Hmm…”

John takes his fingers from your mouth to turn the page of his book and you whimper at the loss. When he returns them, he trails them down your neck making you purr, over your chest where your nipples are already hard, to your waistband. He leans the heel of his hand on your stomach, petting lightly back and forth over your navel.

You feel drugged with desire. How John manages to detect your most sensitive areas you have no idea, but he just hit almost all of them within a minute and it’s got you dizzy. You close your eyes to try and calm down. You hear the rustle as John turns another page.

His caresses are feather light, teasing and it’s a lovely torture. John moves his fingers, still slick with your saliva down the curve of your stomach to your underwear. He rubs you through the cotton and you open your eyes, looking down and revelling in how debauched it looks, his thick fingers pressing against your damp white panties.

You tip your head up so you can look at him and John is staring down at exactly the same place, his breath held, his eyes large and dark. He pushes your underwear aside, looking almost in a trance, gathering some of your wetness up onto his fingers so he can taste you. You catch a glimpse of his long tongue around his own knuckles and you turn your head in his lap, feeling a large bulge forming against your cheek.

“Are you…” you stutter, feeling shy suddenly “really still reading?”

You jump as John throws the book across the room. “No.”

He grabs your face and kisses you, deep and dirty and you return it as best you can. His fingers are gripping your jaw and basically restricting your movements so you have no choice but to submit. Not that there is the slightest chance you’d want to resist.

His eyelids flutter as he pulls back from you, looking stunned for a moment before seeming to remember himself.

“Sorry I...you’re supposed to be resting today…”

“I’m okay John….please don’t stop…”

You lift his big hand from where is it resting on your chin and move it down back between your legs. John makes a harsh sound in his throat, pushing a finger inside you.

“Okay my lovely brat...you get what you want as usual…”

You’re so wet his finger slides in easily, but as he adds another you can feel yourself clenching around him, shamefully desperate. John looks like he might pass out, looking at you in awe.

“How are you….so tight?”

He bends and kisses your forehead as he gently moves his fingers inside you, curling them up and you can tell he is trying to focus on bringing you pleasure without thinking of himself.

You’re not having that and you spread your legs wide, bearing down on his fingers shamelessly.

“Because you didn’t fuck me all day daddy…”

You use the name on him because you know its power. John struggles against every moral instinct in himself not to like it...but oh he does...and the fact that it’s taboo makes him like it even more.

“Fuck….” he swears, and you feel the delicious thrill of making him break that precious control.

He pulls down his jeans with such desperation it makes you pant and without much hesitation slips inside you, large and thick and warm and everything you could want.

“Sweetheart…” he chokes, “I’m not sure how long I can last like this…”

“That’s okay daddy…” you pant back, your voice sounding weak and thready as John pushes you into the couch with the force of his thrusts.

You hold on for dear life, happy with his rough pace as it matches your neediness. After a while John seems to gain some control of himself, slowing down and almost stopping. You wrap your legs around his waist, rocking yourself up against him, trying to make him move, but he’s so much larger than you it barely works.

“Hey...look at me...”

You thrash your head and he holds your throat gently, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“I love you...” he tells you, for second time that day.

You groan and squeeze your inner muscles around him in reply. You adore him, you are crazy for him, you just need him to move.

John waits, patient and grave until you see he requires a response. You blink a few times, trying to clear your hazy mind, reaching up to stroke his hair which feels silky without its usual gel.

“I love you John.” you grind out and see him nod, satisfied, before he thankfully starts to move again in long languorous strokes, designed torment you, bringing you to the edge.

He leans down, sucking at your skin while rubbing your clit and you cry out with a pleasure so intense it almost feels like pain. John starts to move again, even as you come, and as usual his words get dirtier the closer he is to orgasm.

“God...damn...you’re amazing...can feel you milking my cock darling...”

He seems intent on making you come again, and you can feel your brain blurring into blackness. You keen, oversensitive but not wanting him to stop, you just start pleading, almost begging, trying to urge him on.

You move your hands to grasp his ass and pull him down against you. John gives a yelp of surprise at your bold action, loses control and releases inside you with a sob, shuddering and dropping heavily, his head against your breasts.

He sits up as soon as he is able, pulling his shirt over his head to try and cool off. You run an appreciative hand over his muscles and he gives you a rueful look.

“I didn’t mean to lose it like that....you were just so...”

He trails off as you shift on the couch, trying not to make a mess as the evidence of John’s loss of control leaks out of you.

“....fucking hot....”

His eyes widen with a possessive look as he picks you up caveman style and carries you to the bathroom to clean you up. You’re too weak from pleasure to protest and let him move your limbs around like a doll. John doesn’t stop looking concerned until you’re back in bed, him spooning your back, his arm tightly around you.

“Did you turn everything off downstairs?”

“Yeah....I got it all under control...and I’ve got you, okay?”

You nod, feeling your heart throb with the strength of your feelings.

“I’ve had a lovely day with you...I almost don’t want it to end...”

Even as you admit it you feel sleep tugging at you and you try to ignore it, try to focus on the feeling of John’s arms around you. He kisses your nape and shushes you.

“Sleep. We can have an even better one tomorrow...”

You trust him with your life, so you obey, not understanding how you ever got so lucky to see this soft side of John Wick.

#i can't...what?#okay i tried #i am the ANTONYM OF SOFT IRL #or who am i kidding #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick oneshot #soft #i kinda wanted her to ride him on the couch but i'm too lazy so maybe another time

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notveryglittery · 6 years

Text

Flirting with Danger, Ch4

summary: In which three-quarters of our cast are useless gays. words: 2,700 / ships: romantic royality, platonic moxiety warnings: mentions of the events from chapter 1 (armed robbery, character held at gunpoint). notes: thanks for your patience everybody!! this one gave us some trouble but next chapter should come pretty easily! @do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them and i are very excited about it!! hope you enjoy!! @fandersfic-royality @fandersfic-moxiety

read on ao3 | Ch1: the first time | Ch2: *mcelroy voice* hotboy! Ch3: sky soliloquy | Ch4: the interview™ Ch5: you have my heart | Ch6: the second time Ch7: is this allowed??

“Good evening. I’m Logan Roberts and I’m here today with our local superhero, commonly referred to as the Prince, for an interview regarding yesterday’s attempted robbery at a 7-Eleven on the corner of Garden Lane and Vine Row.” Logan turned his attention to Roman. “Thank you for your time.”

Roman winked at the camera before facing Logan. “It’s always an absolute pleasure!”

Used to his dramatics by this point, Logan ignored him and shouldered on. “There were three armed suspects, correct? Two male and one female?” Logan made a note here to edit their mugshots in afterwards.

“Yes. Taken care of in no time at all! It was quite easy, really—”

“Your timing was impressive, I will admit.” He didn’t sound impressed; the twitch of a frown on Roman’s lips was so miniscule, it went largely unnoticed. “It was brought to my attention, however, that a victim was held at gunpoint?”

There was really no helping the way Roman melted. He propped an elbow onto the table and then his chin into his hand. “Yeah,” he said dreamily, staring off into the distance.

Logan leveled a flat stare towards the camera, as if to say “do you see what I’m dealing with here?” He cleared his throat and poked Roman’s arm with his pen. “The less cutting I have do in edits, the better.”

Roman snapped out of it and allowed his gaze to flicker back and forth between Logan and the camera. “Sorry, Logan,” he mumbled, drawing forward a bit of his cape, and twisting it between his hands. He shook off the distraction and slipped right back into interview mode. “Yes, there was. It was bad timing, is all. He’s quite alright, though!”

Logan leaned forward, curiosity shining bright in his brown eyes. “From what I understand, the gun went off. Just how does that add up, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Roman let go of his cape and raised one of his hands from beneath the table. He clicked his fingers and allowed the flame it created to linger there for a moment as he spoke. “Well, we all know how undeniably hot I am—” he paused to wink at the lens and Logan resisted the urge to smack him, “— it’s just a pyrokinetic perk. I can stop the gunpowder from being ignited.” The fire at the end of his finger went out with a flick of his wrist.

Logan put it down in his notes before continuing. “That’s fascinating.” Roman positively basked in the compliment. “You said that the victim is quite alright. How can you be so sure? He didn’t stay behind to talk with the police.”

Again, Roman’s gaze went a little distant, but it would really only be noticed by anyone watching with eyes of a hawk. “His friend arrived on the scene before the officers did and insisted they get home as quickly as possible. Seeing as there were others to give a statement, it didn’t seem like much of a problem.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Logan followed without hesitation. “How would you know how he is faring? No one knows who he is, so it isn’t like you could have sought him… out… afterwards…”

Roman’s eyes went wide. Logan looked like the cat that caught the canary. For a few seconds, it was silent. Roman waited for Logan to ask another question or maybe to redirect the interview into a safer direction. Logan waited for Roman to elaborate. Roman caved.

“Alright, fine! So maybe I found his phone on the floor of the convenience store! It would have been rude to not return it to him! You know how we’re all about our phones in this day and age, and besides, who knows how many pictures he had on there that would have just been lost?!” Roman ranted, hands flailing as he did so. “His address was on the lock screen so I… took it to him. The next day. This morning. And he was fine! And when I say fine, wow do I mean fine.”

Logan coughed into his hand. Roman scrambled to backtrack. “Like, super okay! He wasn’t hurt at all! I only said fine like that because he was so fine! Great!” His voice was pitching higher the harder he tried to fix it. “And his roommate’s okay, too! In case you were wondering or if you think that might be important to… add. Include? Everybody’s great!!”

This was… getting out of hand. Logan sighed. “You’re very lucky we aren’t live right now.”

“I know,” Roman squeaked. He dropped his face into his hands and when he spoke next, it was muffled. Logan could only assume that Roman was assuming he’d edit this. “I’m making such a fool of myself. What if he watches this? I’d die of embarrassment.”

“I had intended to make cuts. You are making it quite difficult, however.” At this rate, the interview would look choppy. Logan considered just starting over but their time was limited. Perhaps he could leave it as it was… It wouldn’t hurt if the hero took a blow to his ego.

“I’m sorry,” Roman muttered, sounding genuinely contrite. “I can do better.”

“I’m sure that you can.” Logan glanced towards the camera, the recording light still strong. “Let’s get back to the interview and I’ll see what I can do in post.”

Roman sat up straighter in his chair and tried to banish all thoughts of Patton from his mind. There were more important things to address. He just had to hope that Logan would be able to do enough cleaning up that it would all look alright in the end.

“Regarding your entrance,” Logan began, glancing down at his notes. “You broke in through the window, despite the door having been readily available for use. The cost of damages ended up being equal to what would have been stolen from the register. There’s also the matter of the destroyed displays; there were three of them, two of which were your doing.”

Roman looked downright offended. “I am a superhero, Logan! Dramatic entrances are just part of the job description!” He huffed and brushed a strand of hair out of his face. It was starting to get a little unruly with all of his gesturing. “I could fix the displays in no time, if necessary! I can pay for the window, too! I haven’t had a chance yet to speak with the owners. I gave the police their statement before there was a minor misdemeanor I had to attend to.”

“Oh?” Logan asked and Roman internally cursed. He had to go and run his mouth, didn’t he? Logan could sense a story from miles away and here Roman was, handing it to him on a silver platter. “What happened there?”

“Nothing important!” Honestly, it really wasn’t. A text had come from Roman’s neighbor, saying they’d lost their cat and Roman wasn’t about to let Talyn worry a single minute more than they needed to. He turned to face the camera. “If the proprietors of the 7-Eleven on Garden Lane and Vine Row would please get in contact with me, so that we can work this out, that would be delightful.” See, Roman could be responsible!

“Alright…” Logan agreed hesitantly, clearly itching still to know just what Roman had to leave in such a hurry for. Perhaps he’d get the answer once they were finished.

Patton, precariously balancing a bowl of popcorn and two glasses of soda, came rushing into the living room from the kitchen, looking very much like an excited puppy. After the Prince had returned his cell phone, he’d transferred all of his photos over onto his laptop, and was pleased as punch knowing now that he’d never lose those memories. On top of that, he and Virgil had made snickerdoodles, and then Patton had gone through their apartment complex, offering said cookies to their neighbors, because it was such a fun word to say, and they had all been really happy about it, which made Patton really happy about it, and gosh!! He was just having such a good day!!

Now, to make things even better, one of the city’s most well renowned reporters had interviewed the Prince regarding yesterday’s (almost) robbery. That meant Patton was going to get to see his favorite superhero on screen and he could gush to Virgil all over again about how amazing and fearless he had been.

“Did it start yet?!” He asked eagerly but before he could get an answer, his foot caught the edge of the coffee table. It should have been an absolute disaster; they should have missed the interview in favor of scrubbing soda out of the carpet. However, Patton felt the familiar gentle weight of shadows curling up around his legs, and pushing against his stomach, keeping him upright just long enough for Virgil to spring off of the sofa. He caught Patton by the shoulders and while the drinks did slosh a bit over the edges of the cups, it mostly did so onto their nightwear, and not the floor itself.

“Are you okay?” Virgil asked, taking the bowl of popcorn from Patton, and setting it down on the arm of the couch. The darkness faded from his eyes, lightening back to hazel, as the shadows slipped away to their corners. Patton, as he always did any time Virgil used his powers to keep him safe, smiled after them as they went.

“I’m okay!” He said, putting the cups down on the table. “I’m gonna go get some paper—”

“Nope,” Virgil interrupted. “You sit down, I’ll go get the paper towels.”

Before Patton could protest, Virgil was carefully pushing him down on the couch, and leaving for the kitchen. He sat still for about five seconds before getting cozy and crossing his legs; he grabbed the popcorn and held it in his lap. Commercials were playing on the television screen but the audio was muted for the time being. When Virgil returned, he was carrying not only a handful of paper towels, but the bottle of root beer itself.

“For when you inevitably spill more,” he teased, when Patton gave him a questioning look.

A few minutes later, they were situated comfortably on the sofa; Virgil had his legs stretched out and his feet, clad in fuzzy socks, resting on the table. A blanket was wrapped around their shoulders and Patton was nestled against Virgil, content and warm.

“Alright, I guess I’m ready for you to squeal over Prince Not-So-Charming’s interview, but can you keep it down just enough for us to actually hear it?”

“Virge,” Patton whined, elbowing him in the side. “Let me live!!”

Virgil stuck his tongue out at Patton and turned the volume on. Some generic opening music played before Logan Roberts appeared on screen; he looked proper as ever. Beside him was the Prince and Patton was immediately wiggling on the spot. When he winked at the camera, Patton flapped his arms, hitting Virgil in the face with his sweater paws, before covering his mouth, and squealing into the fabric. When Logan cut the superhero off, Patton frowned; Virgil, however, snickered.

“... a victim was held at gunpoint?”

Patton screamed and threw his handful of popcorn at the television. With his hands now empty, Patton grabbed Virgil’s arm and started shaking him. “Virgil!!!! That’s me!!!! They’re talking about me!!!”

Virgil laughed, taking the bowl out of Patton’s lap. By now, Patton was all but sitting on the edge of the couch. The pair went on to talk about how the superhero’s pyrokinesis worked and Virgil was relieved, finally understanding that Patton’s life hadn’t really been in as much danger as previously thought. Meanwhile, Patton was squeaking over the the Prince, once again, winking at the camera.

Virgil, with the eyes of a hawk, noticed immediately the dreamy look in the hero’s eyes as Logan asked about Patton’s well-being. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

“Oh!! Virgil, that’s you!! You’re the friend!!” Patton exclaimed, patting Virgil on the knee.

He nodded and made a face of agreement, even though Patton’s eyes were still locked on the screen. The reporter wasted no time in calling his interviewee out and Virgil was endlessly amused by it. Silence fell between the two and Virgil could see the realization dawning on Logan’s face. Logan Roberts didn’t smile much during his interviews and so when his lips curved slowly into a very smug sort of grin, Virgil wasn’t quite prepared.

“Oh no,” Virgil muttered, partially because oh no, he was hot and partially because oh no, the cat was out of the bag.

Sure enough, the Prince was suddenly yammering on about how he’d found Patton’s phone and returned it to him this morning. Virgil wished he could reach through the screen and strangle him. Did he not understand the meaning of privacy?!

Patton screamed and fell off of the couch. Without even thinking about it, Virgil twirled his finger in the air, pulling the shadows back to the middle of the room. They didn’t necessarily catch Patton, but they did pool beneath him to soften his fall.

“Thanks,” Patton muttered, distractedly, craning his neck to try and see passed the table so he could still watch the interview.

It cut, slightly awkwardly. Virgil narrowed his eyes. He offered his hand to Patton, who took it, and situated himself back on the couch. They moved on, discussing the broken window and displays. Patton was looking progressively more distressed at the way Logan was grilling the superhero. Virgil thought it was what he deserved but, more than anything, he was beginning to grow nervous over the fact that people knew now that they’d been visited by the Prince. It wasn’t like anyone knew who they were, or like he’d given away important information, but there had been other witnesses at the 7-Eleven, and what if they ended up recognizing Patton, and—

“Kiddo?” Patton was poking him in the face. “Are you okay?”

Virgil startled, pulled so suddenly from his spiraling. “Eehhh.”

“Okay,” Patton said agreeably.

Virgil exhaled harshly. “Just— What if someone finds out who you are from all this and… I mean, there’s probably some people that might- I just don’t want us publicly associated with a superhero, that’s just asking for trouble, y’know?” He avoided Patton’s eyes and glared at the TV.

The interview was wrapping up, but Patton had stopped paying attention to it. He turned to face Virgil fully, frowning. “He didn’t say our names, though! I guess he could’ve been a little more subtle… But still, I don’t think anyone could find us just from that. Although if we did get in trouble, that would mean he’d come save us again…” Patton looked off into space with a little sigh, and it was obvious he was daydreaming.

Virgil blinked at him incredulously. “…Jeez. Okay, we really need to talk about your priorities. Again.”

Patton snapped out of it, glancing back and forth between Virgil and the television. Logan was thanking the Prince for his time. “We still need milk!” he said suddenly, leaping off the couch. He hurried out of the room and Virgil pinched the bridge of his nose. He turned the TV off and gathered what was left of their snacks and drinks, which, given how distracted they’d ended up, was most of what they had started with.

He was in the middle of putting the dishes away when there was a clatter by the front door. He jumped and spun around to find Patton, quietly apologizing to the dining room chair he’d bumped into. Virgil put his hands on his hips and gave Patton his best Mom Look.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

Patton had the gall to look sheepish. “... Milk?”

Virgil’s eyebrows rose slowly. “Without an umbrella?” And by himself when it was getting dark, but one problem at a time.

Patton shot him a pair of nervous finger guns before darting back to his room. Virgil did the same, retrieving his own umbrella from his closet, and met Patton at the front door. Again, Patton looked surprised.

“You thought I was going to let you go alone?” Virgil asked. “You were held at gunpoint last time.”

“You accidentally get caught up in a convenience store robbery one time!” Patton complained teasingly. He looked thrilled, though, that Virgil was joining him.

Virgil checked to make sure they had their wallets, keys, and phones before they headed out. Hopefully nothing too exciting would happen this time.

#sanders sides fan fiction #royality #moxiety #flirting with danger #dani writes #nick's stuff

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duckbeater · 6 years

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Duck Beater at Ten; or, The Orphans

[Editor’s Note: I started this blog a decade ago—occasion enough, I thought, for me to reflect on what it’s meant to contribute (in my extraordinarily untimely and narrow way) to a log that has tried (and more often failed) at recording where I’m at and how I’m doing and what I’m thinking and where I’m going. Having this space has not unreasonably kept me in it—I mean, its persistence has kept me reflecting more or less on the period of its inception. I think a lot about who I was at 23, which is idiotic and costly. I read more books back then. I had no money. My best friend was my brother. I thought I would write a novel.]

Years ago, my brother’s friend offended him when she asked me why I didn’t prefer one brand of paint over another. I was probably in my apartment's kitchen, working on a canvas, and they were probably behind me, eating my boyfriend's food.

I painted then because I was very poor. One way of thinking through your poverty—if you haven't drugs or sex or a brain injury—is to create pointless tasks for yourself, which is what art-making very often is. It's like Vicodin. It's very lovely, costly, addicting, transporting and makes your stomach hurt if you're not full-up already on something else (say, mashed potatoes). I was painting a truly hideous “family portrait”—globs of white and green paint shaped like cast-off “Sesame Street” creatures—and I was painting, besides, for myself. To hold the brush and to fold the colors and to smell the Turpenoid. A.J. had the money for food (our dying grandfather had cosigned on a student loan) and yet there he was with Victoria, in my apartment, peeling back the silvery foil of a Pop-Tart, making crinkling sounds.

I shouldn't say “my apartment” because it was really Cole’s: I had decamped there when we fell hard in love. This was on the corner of Union and Greenwich, across from an intramural field, and beyond that the law school. It was low-income housing: most has been destroyed; and now that I'm on Google I find the places I walked by, the porch I painted bright blue, the rooms I cherished (orange, annoyingly), they've all disappeared. There's odd grassy lots where there were once old, three-apartment houses, their interiors mangled to accommodate the crying fits of off-campus seniors. In the decade since their vanishment, even the indentations of walkways, of their foundations are invisible, and the lawns are as serene and flat and verdant as well-maintained graves. I recall coming off work one night that October, and finding Cole in the stairwell to the second-floor flat. He was crumpled in a ball, on the phone, arguing with his father: I should visit for Thanksgiving; I should be considered family. He was so angry he was bawling, and he hated me to touch him, and I left him in a daze which is also how I finally left him—in a daze, hating me to touch him. (But on better terms with his father.) Well, that stairwell is gone.

A.J. and Victoria, and in fact many of A.J.’s other law school friends, they regularly came into this apartment. (I have written about them before and realized only in editing this piece that the following brief description is a paraphrase of that missive.) They played Mario Kart on the GameCube, recited Moot Court speeches and ate take-out on the sofas. They gossiped incessantly because a small law school is a high school (it even had lockers), and the attendees are as reckless and dispirited and status-hungry as freshmen in a high school. He was a first year then and I was a fifth year finishing my undergrad, and so I saw all of A.J.'s new friends more than I ever saw my old ones because my old friends had moved on. (They went to Austin, Texas. They stayed at most three years and then relocated to either Los Angeles or the Pacific Northwest.)

I want to try to remember Victoria without resorting to her Instagram account. Back then, she took great pains to distinguish herself as a sophisticated New Englander. I see: high socks, long “piecey” hair, a face white-powdered to pore-less perfection. Perhaps because she was changing her life at twenty-eight and not at twenty-three, as other law students were, her look inclined toward the transformative, toward the gothic and the chic-severe. (Why am I describing her as a later-day Wednesday Addams? She was not a Wednesday Addams. She wore colors. She drank Pimm’s with grape fruit slices and soda water. We took day trips to places like Gary, Indiana, listening to Sam Amidon on the Camry’s stereo.) What I think is, she was alarmed and depressed to be at a “fourth-tier law school in the middle of an ugly corner in uglier Indiana,” and so rebelled against the smallness of her new life by having outsized opinions on luxury goods and fine foods and exotic locales. The worst was that no one knew what she was talking about. She felt this and compensated by hosting foreign film nights. She preferred “the scene,” knew of a scene (there was a music one close by, apparently, in Chicago), and she called herself, sometimes guffawing, a “scenester,” but also wanted us to know she was down with whatever. Just, whatever. She nettled everyone but mostly everyone pitied her, so on balance, her gloom and her snobbery were tolerated.

Victoria made mysterious, indelible gestures. Their performances were somehow less memorable than their obscure resonances, and those resonances affected us obscurely, too. An example. She once loaned A.J. a copy of A Wild Sheep Chase, wanting to hook him on Murakami. When he gave it back unread at the end of term, she insisted it was a replacement copy, that he had lost her original. “If I lost your book,” he told her flatly (and not at all to his credit), “I would not have bothered replacing it.” She said, “No, no—you would. And this is proof.” She told exasperated classmates that A.J. had lost her beloved Murakami paperback and tried to replace it with an exact copy, a conviction seemingly borrowed from the phantasmagorical worlds of Murakami. She used this as a wedge issue about trust, about fidelity. “You’re a coward who couldn’t tell me the truth,” she said, slipping comfortably into a Whit Stillman role. “You’re a deceiver.” To this day, A.J. accepts loaned books graciously while maintaining (not, I think, aloud), “If I lose this, I won’t replace it.” He has never replaced a book I loaned and then he re-loaned again, and there have been more than a dozen. Victoria gave him that.

Another example. When A.J. proposed to his wife, Victoria emailed soon after, advising against the marriage. Incredibly, she sent an email to A.J.’s fiancée too, her reasons for either party diametrically proposed. She was not certain A.J. harbored a strong enough attachment to commit to what she thought would be a lifelong and life-destroying folly. And to Tayler, she said that the two did not know each other enough; that, although they met and dated in high school, and all through college, had not found themselves as adults and might try living longer, in other relationships, before settling down. The emails were cruel, stupid, and strange. Their audience did the generous thing: blamed them on the performer's romantic illusions and then dismissed them as curiosities. Yet sometimes A.J. wishes he had kept his “receipts”—that he’d printed out Victoria’s appeals to him and Tayler, to have at hand such shining examples of sincerity. I’ve heard him rueful about it. “I’m not trying to be an asshole,” he’s said, “but I wish I had these things to point to and say, ‘Here is someone who believes she is doing the right thing.’” But all those emails are gone. The law school closed last year—rather spectacularly, given the coverage in the Times. He doesn’t even have an alumni vanity mailing address.

Victoria adopted this business about oil paints from someone else, her “friend who shows in Chelsea,” a factor that compounded A.J.'s ire. “He uses exclusively, I think, Windsor and Newton,” she said. “Mixing from other labels creates inconsistencies, sometimes chemical clashes?” She opened the fridge and A.J., after scrubbing it with a towel, sat atop the counter. Bluish light came in through bay windows. The law students appeared not only chronically under-slept (they were) but also ethereal, and perhaps very ill. Victoria helped herself to milk. The cords in A.J.'s neck strained as he gazed at the ceiling, lips pursed, white-knuckling the countertop. Some of this was histrionics and some of this was my brother holding onto his sanity.

I said I didn’t I have a preference—or rather, I just didn’t think about it. I had inherited some desiccated oils from my grandma, raided other buttery leftovers from the art building, had bought cheap, thin student sets in the last full years of school—and I got by on what I had. I got by beautifully, actually, elbow-deep in half-tubes and tubes splayed open at the ends, and tubes coaxed open with needle-nose pliers. The mineral reek and vegetal reek from these paints necessitated full days of airing out the apartment. The solvents and extenders smelled of clove cigarettes smoked indoors. I left canvases to dry outside, where they collected tree fluff and tiny, delicate dead bugs. My images were neither hurt nor helped by these environmental additions. I said I was paying down student loan debt, and would practice brand loyalty when I was solvent again. Victoria said, “Oh, but you really should.” I thought to myself, perhaps for the first time, Why did my brother befriend this orphan?

“I really should,” I say to myself, most days on my drive. Wasn't there a performance art piece—a woman, saying 1,000 things she should do, into a tape-recorder? “I really should recycle. I really should call my mother. I really should pay my parking tickets.” I really should honor ritual and superstition, and my gut instincts. I really should read what I buy or at least attend more assiduously to reviews, so as to refrain from buying disappointments. I really should do my part to cut back on carbon emissions, clean the seas, and vote. Everything is in reach. The way Victoria said it—breezy, condescending, hopeful—is the way I hear most advice, particularly the advice I give myself: spoken in the tones of unconvincing conviction. I drank much less then (somehow), still I had a bottle of Bombay Sapphire at hand (somehow), and peered at Victoria and A.J. through its blue glass, tripling their blue-hued bodies.

Much later I wrote a play where a character unhappy in love does the same thing. In the stage directions, the young man “goes to the wine cooler, pulls out a beautiful champagne magnum, studies it, puts it back and takes out another. Every bottle dazzles his countenance with jewel-like light—emerald and sapphire; amethyst and ruby; garnet and topaz lights, they sparkle across his bare chest and face as he inspects the bottles. He decides on a blue bottle of Prosecco, lavishly foiled, and brings it to his eyes like binoculars and for a moment considers his open hand, his surroundings, even his audience through the dark blue glass, and the stage glows beautifully blue, too. With great delicacy he unwraps and unwires the Prosecco, and uncorks it in a kitchen towel, and pours himself a glass. He drinks alone, picking at his phone, while the stage goes dark.” It was well past midnight in the second act. The kitchen was empty.

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damijon-supersons · 6 years

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The Bookworm - an original fic

Okay, here’s the original fic...

Summary: A boy bought a book.

Author’s notes: Hey, thanks for bearing with me. I just really feel the need to take a break from writing nothing but damijon, cuz I love damijon but I’m kinda constrained with what I can write if it’s always just about the boys. So here’s a short, not really a fic, drabble that I thought of thanks to inspiration from my dear friend @batboyblog . He gave me Simon Vs the Homo sapiens Agenda and I’m losing my shit over how much I could relate with it. (and the pic is a stock image of a book lol)

Running in the rain is never fun. I don’t know how movies make it look like staying in the rain was the most enlightening thing that could happen to your life. It just gets you wet and cold. Your clothes get damp and cling to your skin, reminding you that hypothermia is a thing. And the worst part is that your feet get wet from inside your shoes and your socks transform into the world’s most absorbent sponge. There’s no greater torture than having to run with wet, squishy, and freezing socks.

The only thing that could possibly make this worse is if I was carrying a precious, extremely important package in my hands that was highly susceptible to getting utterly destroyed in the rain. That’s not really an ‘if’—it’s more of an ‘I am’. And because I was infinitely stupid to think that it couldn’t possibly rain, I didn’t bother to bring an umbrella when I went out to buy my precious cargo, which again, disintegrates in water. Most things from the local bookstore were like that, unfortunately.

Just before I went inside the house, I hastily shoved the ragged, soggy mess of a paper bag which contained my loot inside my hoodie jacket. My mother definitely must not see it, because she’d ask so many questions. She’d ask what I bought, where I bought it from, and for her to inspect it. That would be the doomsday scenario. She must not know. Ever. I made sure to zip up my jacket just in case—it would make sense cuz I was in the rain.

She opens the door and immediately scolds me for going out in nothing but a hoodie. She gets a towel and wipes the soggy mess that was my hair and process to interrogate me, just as I expected. I told her I went out for soda and chips, which was a very normal thing thirteen-year-old boys like me would do if their moms were like mine and banned anything she viewed was unhealthy in the house.

It’s fine that she got angry and screamed at me about how I was squandering my health away. It was the easiest most believable lie I could think of in a rush. I wasn’t very good at lying to my mom about specific things, and she knew it. When I was younger, she made sure to make me remember the feeling of the consequence of lying. The mangy leather belt that hung in her closet knew that feeling too, but from the perspective, being the thing that made me feel the consequence. This was pretty funny considering I was good at lying about myself in general, and I’d been lying to her, to my friends, to my classmates, and everyone, about myself for some time now.

But anyway, she buys it, and she didn’t notice how I clutched my chest for dear life because the contraband was there inside my jacket. She just thought I was cold. She shouted at me to take a hot shower just as I slammed my bedroom door locked behind me.

I shed my wet, soggy clothes until I’m only in my slightly damp underwear. I peel off the tattered paper bag from the plastic-covered treasure inside. Had I been a normal, straight boy like my mom had always assumed, this thing I held would have been a porn mag. A normal straight boy would have felt the need to hide it as much as I would have. A normal straight boy would have feared his parents catching him with porn just like I was with my package, because parents, and everyone else other than yourself, would be so self-righteous and think that sex stuff is too early and inappropriate for boys my age.

That was bullshit, of course. Just because people think it’s problematic doesn’t stop thirteen-year-old boys from thinking constantly about sex and beating their meat. It doesn’t stop our class jock Billy Madison from snogging and groping the class nerd Julia Evans behind the soccer field equipment shed every after school, and neither did it stop the now-suspended Kenji Izumi from taking pictures of his erect penis and sending it to his would-be girlfriend Liliana McAllister for valentines, who’d loved it. It wouldn’t have been a problem if Lili’s jealous best friend hadn’t caught wind of it and told teachers and Lili’s parents. Funny how straight people could have so much drama like that over such a little thing.

The big thing to take away from those examples is how people reacted. Everyone and their mother knew Billy and Julia took up competitive face-eating and no one bats an eye. In Kenji’s case, it took making porn of himself for the adults to even notice, and the boys in class actually hailed him as a hero for it. But if it was a boy who held another boy’s hand longer than necessary, just like the way I did with my former seatmate Jon—he’d needed help in maths and I volunteered and wanted to tell him it’s okay suck at things and ask help for them—everyone loses their shit and makes a huge fuss. Thankfully the jeers and homophobic teasing only lasted a day. Jon changed seats, though, and hasn’t talked to me in the six months since.

Maybe he knew. Maybe touching another boy’s hand was enough for him to know that I was gay. And maybe it was enough to see people’s reactions to the thought of something gay for me treat the little package I’d bought with such urgent secrecy.

What I had in my hands wasn’t porn even though the lengths at which I had to hide it would be worthy of porn. No, what I held was a book, a best seller in fact according to the bookstore charts, and thanks most likely to the recent movie that they made based on it. It was just an innocent novel about a boy just like me, who had to deal with being gay in secret. And he had this anonymous email friend that was gay just like him, and through each other, they found…proof, I guess, that being gay was okay. Straight boys worry about their parents finding porn and here I am fearing for my life over a novel that tells me being me was valid. Funny, right? I had to equate the consequences of underage sex with my right to exist.

Maybe. Maybe it’s funny that I’m hiding a book under my mattress. Maybe it’s hilarious that I have to wait until my whole family was passed out before I read a book under my sheets in the light of my iPhone, a book that didn’t even have sex or anything like that, and just had the story of a boy like me who was just trying to find out what a life being a gay boy is all about.

It’s all worth laughing at, I guess. That’s fine. Laughing means everything is okay and normal and good. All the while, every day at school, I’ll be carrying around that book with me in the deepest part of my backpack. I’d be keeping a little piece of the truth with me wherever I go, a little piece of the real me under everyone’s noses. It made lying and laughing a lot easier.

#fic #original fic #gay #simon vs the homosapiens agenda #book

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inkstainedfanfics · 7 years

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The Inevitability of Our Story

Request: I was listening to Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis himself and I couldn't help but think about Newt while listening to it idk its such a Newt song and then i thought of you and well, it sounds like a possible fic idea ;) ;) I know you have so many requests but i just wanted to put this out there, also to tell you that these kinds of songs remind me of Newt and then you and your amazing stories. Anyway, have a good day!

Word Count: 3,979

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by @dont-give-a-bother but also tagging @red-roses-and-stories @caseoffics @myrtus-amongst-the-stars @ly--canthrope @thosefantasticbeast2 @benniesgalaxy @studyforthreehands @whatinbenaddiction

I. For

Newt’s quill scratches against the parchment and he mumbles words under his breath, reading over his manuscript. Thunder outside rumbles, raindrops thump against the glass panes, and you plod over to Newt, dropping into the open spot next to him. He hardly notices as your forearm brushes his lightly, or the way you hum softly before tapping the back of his hand.

“Newt?”

“Yes?” He mumbles, eyes still scanning over his messy handwriting.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes?” The word is distracted, his attention only half on you. This manuscript is important. He’s almost finished editing his chapter on bowtruckles and other leafy beasts; best friend or not, he doesn’t want to pause his work until he gets through the last page of it.

“Why do mooncalves only emerge during full moons?”

He doesn’t look up from the parchment. “They have an affinity for it.”

“But why?” You question, resting your chin in one hand as you play with the leaf of a potted plant sitting on the table.

Newt glances up at you, wary. “You really want to know?”

You nod, lips puckered in confusion as the leaf turns a shade of blue.

His heart twists, chest warming as he sets down his quill, and Newt shifts, uncomfortable with the sudden change of his heart’s rhythm. “It’s only a theory right now.”

You meet his eyes and smile. “That’s all right. I’d still like to hear what you think.”

Newt tries to ignore the feeling in his chest. “Could it wait a couple of minutes? I’ve almost finished here.”

“I’ll wait.” You say it with another smile, reaching out to squeeze his arm gently.

Though he was unaware of it, Newt has been on the precipice of falling for quite some time. Only a lack of free time had prevented him from considering this, considering asking you on a date. It would really only take a gesture, a small nudge, to knock him off that cliff, to convince him to ask you out.

Your soft squeeze of his arm is that nudge.

He lifts his quill again, throat dry, fully prepared to edit more, but Newt can’t tear his eyes away from the gentle slope of your nose or the way you narrow your eyes at the color-changing leaf.

Three pages of the chapter still need to be edited, but Newt flips the notebook shut, taking a deep breath, praying the strange feeling will disappear after a good night’s rest. “The moon’s a signal to them.”

II. I

“I’m not kidding you. I really saw him drop the whole bag of them in front of her.” Newt chuckles, taking another sip of his hot chocolate. “His girlfriend?”

“Yep. Poor thing couldn’t say a thing, she was so shocked.” You snort. “Not that I blame her. I’m not sure I’d know how to react to my boyfriend carrying those around.

Newt wonders if he imagines the shy glance you send toward him at the word boyfriend.

You notice the drink in his hand, how empty the mug is. “Want another one?”

Newt swirls the rest of the liquid as he considers your question. The clock reads four fifty-five in the morning. A mistake, staying up so late when he has a meeting at eight with his publisher, the person that’s deciding just how much publicity his book will be given, who it will be marketed to, and how many copies will initially be printed.

He really should be well-rested, should say no and head to bed, managing to earn at least a few hours of sleep before the meeting, but you’re sitting cross-legged across from him in the living room, fuzzy socks falling around your ankles, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of homemade hot chocolate, tendrils of hair continuously falling into your eyes no matter how many times you shove them away.

Beautiful.

“Another would be wonderful.”

You beam at him as you reach for his mug, any nerves, imagined or otherwise, disappearing from your gaze. “Great. D’you remember Laura Zwellger? From potions?”

“Not particularly, no.” He murmurs, watching you pad across the room to fill his mug.

“The one with the penchant for explosives? No? Really?” Sighing, you shake your head. “You don’t remember how she nearly destroyed the entire room by mixing two potions together?”

Newt frowns, trying to remember, but shakes his head. “No, doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”

You roll your eyes as you step toward him. “Do you remember anything from Hogwarts?”

He reaches out, taking the mug you hand him. “Well, yes.”

“And what,” you ask, as you sit across from him again, “would that be?”

“I remember you.”

The words bring back that shyness, and Newt wonders yet again if he’s imagining it or if he’s really having this effect on you. “Everything?”

He swallows his nerves and smiles at you, though his eyes drop to the floor. “Of course. Hard to forget the most important person, isn’t it?”

III. Can’t

It’s been two months since Newt’s last meeting with his publisher. He’s busy in his case, working on a chapter involving doxies and their tendency to tear about anything soft when you burst in through the door, shouting and positively terrifying both him and the doxies.

Before he can ask what has you screaming like you are, he’s wrapped up in your arms, breath rushing from his chest as you throw yourself against him.

“I did it!”

He stumbles back a step, arms wrapping around your waist to keep you from falling, an instinct. Yet, when he regains his footing, his arms don’t move.

“Sorry, what?”

You nuzzle your face into his jacket, grinning. “I did it.”

“Escaped a blast-ended skrewt?”

“No,” you say, looking up at him and making a face. “That problem with the growth potion I’ve been working on? I solved it.”

“What did it take?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No congratulations? No ‘I knew you could do it, you utter genius’? Not even a simple ‘good job’ from you?”

Newt’s aware of the hug, how long it’s gone on, how you should’ve stepped away long ago, but you’re still here, still hanging onto him, and he doesn’t want you to let go.

He smiles, voice quiet. “Congratulations.”

IV. Help

“I um, have something for you.”

Newt looks over his shoulder at you, stopping the dicing of the lacewings. You’re standing in the doorway of his shed, hands behind your back, leaning against the frame and smiling at him, but your smile isn’t bright like usual, isn’t beaming. Instead, it’s small, flickering, and your eyes dart around the room almost as if… as if you’re nervous.

Newt sets down his knife and turns, grabbing a towel to wipe away the sweat that accumulated on his forehead. “If it’s another letter from the ministry, I don’t think I want to see it right now.”

You smile at the joke, one stemming from the various letters begging him to return to his office job. “No, no good news like that, I’m afraid.”

“What a shame.”

“I hope these are better than that.” With that, you push away from the frame, stepping forward and handing Newt a plate.

At least twenty cookies sit on the plate, stacked in neat little piles of two. It’s clear the amount of work you put into them.

Newt blinks in surprise. They’re his favorite kind. He doesn’t even remember mentioning they’re his favorite, or how it would’ve been brought up, nor you mentioning that you wanted to make anything for him. He looks back up at you, curious. Could you really…?

“I made them myself.” You offer when he says nothing. You refuse to meet his eyes, instead looking anywhere else in the room, your foot tapping a steady beat.

“Thank you.” He knows he should say something else, but what else is there to say when he wants only to press a kiss to your forehead and invite you to spend the rest of the day with him? What else is there to say when he worries he might tell you how he feels? Newt wonders if that would have been better as your smile fades.

It’s clearly not the reaction you were hoping for.

Shoulders slumped and false smile forced to your face, you step away from him. “Of course.”

“Love.” He stops himself, letting a beat pass as the words hangs between you. He waits for you to make a joke, to laugh, to tease him for it, but you just stare at him with wide eyes, frozen.

He clears his throat. “Sorry.”

“No” You murmur, shaking yourself back into motion. “An honest mistake.”

He struggles to breathe. Where’s the sarcastic joke? Nevertheless, the sooner he says something, the sooner this moment disappears forever. “I have something for you, too.”

And he digs in his pocket, pulling out a tiny wood carving. It fits in the palm of his hand, and it’s rough, but it’s the best he can do.

He hands it to you. “It’s not very good but –“

“Newt, it’s beautiful.” You stare at the thing, turning it this way and that in your hand, thumb running over the small letters on the bottom. His initials. “I love it.”

“Honestly?”

You blink away what look like tears. “Honestly.” Newt opens his mouth to say more, but you run a hand through your hair, looking up at him. “I should go.”

You pause at the door. “Thank you, Newt. This is… this is amazing.” Then you leave, and Newt’s left to wonder about everything that just happened.

He returns to dicing the lacewings, face red, knowing that he must find a way to ask you on a date.

V. Falling

“I think he may need some more of that cream.”

“Green or violet?”

You scrunch up your face, examining the wound on the erumpent’s back.

“Green. Definitely green.”

“Here you are.”

Newt ignores the brush of your fingers when you grab the tube, or does his best, at least, as he bends down to record the use in his notebook. Anything could be useful information for his book, now, and he’s determined to fit in as much as possible to save creatures’ lives.

He doesn’t hear you climb down the ladder, or brush dirt from your pants, or mumble some question about what he’s writing; he’s too focused on the paper, labeling the items, recording the wound and its cause.

He doesn’t even know you’re next to him until you rest a hand on his shoulder. “What’re you writing?”

“Simply recording what we used.”

“Why?”

“It’s important to…” He trails off when he raises his head. You’re right there, inches away from him, nearly cross-eyed from the lack of space.

“To um…” he tries again, but it’s useless.

It’d be so easy to close the distance, and he finds himself thinking about how soft your lips must be, wondering if you’ve ever kissed anyone before, what you would do if he did right now, if he just leaned in the few inches. He thinks he may when his eyes drift to your lips.

His face burns as the two of you remain in this limbo. He can feel your breath against his face, and he’s fighting every urge now, trying not to lean in right now.

He hasn’t even asked you out, for Merlin’s sake. He has no right.

Still, your fingers are on his shoulder, and your eyes – Merlin, what a brilliant color – are focused on his lips.

Newt can’t help the smile growing on them. He’s going to do it.

His eyes begin to flutter shut, but before he can move more than a centimeter, a loud, booming groan erupts through the air.

The erumpent shuffles its feet, waiting for more help with the wound.

Newt freezes, and you look at the creature.

“I guess it was the violet.” You try to say it lightheartedly, jokingly, as you lean away, but Newt can hear the stiffness in it, see the slow way you move around, as though you’re regretting having to move, as though you just want to be near him again. “So why were you writing that down? You never answered.” Despite your smile, your voice comes out squeaky, nervous.

Newt laughs once to himself.

So, you wanted to kiss him. Interesting.

VI. In

Newt knows it’s inevitable when you slip your hand into his. He’s going to fall in love with you. He’s already confronted his emotion, accepted his feelings for you. And he’s fairly certain you feel something similar for him. All that’s left is an opportunity to let himself fall.

Which may very well be tonight. You’re standing in front of him, arms around his neck, head pressed against his chest, eyes closed, as the two of you sway in slow circles to the quiet song the bar’s band is playing. Drunks at the edges of the dance floor stagger, do-si-do-ing with one another, shouting, and occasionally belching, but Newt’s lost in his own world, one with only you and him.

“A lovely song.” You murmur, raising your head to meet his eyes.

“For a lovely dance partner.” He retorts.

You raise an eyebrow. “You think I’m lovely?”

He cocks his head. “Is there anyone that doesn’t?”

“I think Jacob has higher priorities.” He is, after all, the reason you and Newt are even dancing, begging you to ask Newt to a dance so Queenie would give up finding him a dance partner.

Newt glances at the swaying couple across the room. “Yes, well, they belong together.”

“And what’s that say about us?” You say it simply as a way to flirt, but when Newt offers no quick rebuttal, no joke, a flurry of butterflies storms into your stomach. “Newt? What’s that say about us?”

He steadies himself by reaching up to cup your cheek with one hand. “It means that I should –“

His hand is ripped away, torn to the side by an obviously drunk Queenie. “Come here, Newt. You must dance with Teeny. She’s lonely.”

Newt pulls his arm away gently. “I was actually in the middle –“

Queenie giggles, grabbing him again. “You talk too much, honey. Let’s go.”

You wave him away, lips turned down in a small frown, arms wrapping around your waist.

Newt sighs, allowing Queenie to pull him away to another woman to dance what turns out to be the final slow song of the night.

When Newt searches the crowd for you after it, you’re gone.

VII. Love

Newt lands in the Goldstein’s apartment moments after he realizes you’re gone.

He’d searched the building for a full half hour, checking and rechecking every room, even asking the bartender if you’d ordered something, before accepting that you’d left.

His fingers reach up to undo his bowtie, a nervous habit, as he stalks down the hallway, headed straight for the bedroom you’re sharing with the other two girls. He’s not sure what he’ll say, if he’ll even be able to be coherent. He just knows that you don’t know how he feels and he intends on fixing that immediately.

He stops in front of the closed door, nerves slamming into him. Rolling up his sleeves, he waits, thinking, hoping this doesn’t ruin everything, that he didn’t misread the signs, that you truly care for him as much as he cares for you.

Newt rolls up the sleeves of his white button up and chews on his bottom lip. It’s now or never. He raises a hand to knock.

“You’re not supposed to bother a sleeping lady, you know.” You say from behind him.

Newt spins, breath catching in his throat at the sight. You’ve begun to change out of the fancier outfit you’d put on for the dance hall. Your hair’s half down, a wavy mess from the pressure being up, and all of your makeup’s been washed away.

Warmth spreads through Newt’s chest again, and he smiles at you. “Beautiful.” He murmurs under his breath. “Absolutely beautiful.”

You stroll forward, smiling, something about the shots of giggle water giving you a burst of confidence. “So, do you need something, Newt, or did you just stop by to talk?”

“I um,” he clears his throat, smiling like a fool as you take another step toward him, “wanted to finish our conversation at the dance hall.”

You check your watch. “It’s past midnight. Aren’t you exhausted?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, I am.”

Newt notices the challenge in your voice, the slight smirk on your lips. “Perhaps we could talk tomorrow at nine? A picnic?”

His heart stops beating for a moment as you consider the question, nose in the air, eyes squinted in thought. All Newt wants is an answer, a positive one, one that means he wasn’t imagining all this, that all of this, your apparent crush on him, is real.

You meet his gaze. “A picnic sounds lovely. Nine tomorrow.”

Newt grins. “It’s a date.”

You pass him, pulling open your door, but pausing to look at him. “I can’t wait.”

It’s all he can do to stay where he is and not kiss you.

VIII. With

“The sky’s on fire for you.” He says it offhandedly, though every particle of his being believes it. He’s on fire for you, the sky is, the whole damn world should burn itself up if a girl like you asked it to.

Your voice is glass, a soft sound that he fears may break if you raise it too high. “For me or for us?”

He’s stunned into silence as you turns to face him, a galaxy of colors on your face from the sunset, eyes a warm shade that matches the gifts his mother would bring home from trips to the grocery store every few months, hair shimmering under the boiling red sky.

He smiles lightly. “For us.”

“As it should be.” You face the horizon. “Watch out world, we’re coming for you!” You shout it, arms spread wide, smile wide on your face. Roars and clucks and chirps return the call, but the only sound you wait for is Newt’s small chuckle.

“You’re a miracle, love.” He says with a smile and a shake of his head, but the smile quickly fades into an odd expression as Newt searches your face.

“What?”

Newt’s heart thumps against his chest, feeling like it’s twisting and turning with every pump of blood, but he takes a breath to calm it all before answering. “Would it be all right if I kissed you?”

Your face lights up in a blaze of heat. “That’s what you want?”

He nods, eyes lingering on your lips. “More than anything. If you’re all right with it, of course. If not -”

“Newt,” you say, interrupting what is sure to be a lengthy, repetitive ramble, “I’d like that.”

He can hardly believe it, can hardly believe he heard you correctly, but you’re smiling that beautiful smile and scooting closer, and Newt’s going to kiss you. He’s finally going to kiss you.

His eyes shut and he thinks he’ll kill anyone that interrupts this time.

No one does.

The kiss is soft, faint, a mere brush of butterfly wings that starts a frenzy of fireworks in Newt’s guts. He’s kissing you, his best friend, his favorite person. He’s spent the past six months wondering what it would be like and now he is and it’s so much more than he could have imagined.

He reaches up and cradles your cheek when you deepen the kiss, heart slamming so hard he worries it’ll break out of his chest. But it doesn’t, and he spends the rest of that blood red sunset with you at his side, kissing your forehead, cheeks, lips, hair. Whatever he can.

And Newt knows as he holds your hand in his and kisses you yet again that he has fallen completely, that the inevitable has occurred and he’s dug himself into a hole he’ll never escape.

He finds as you ramble on about the colors of sunsets and rainbows and autumn leaves that he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

IX. You

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

“Quite honestly, I’d consider myself the lucky one.”

The salesman bursts into a great laugh that’s far too enthusiastic for the joke Newt made. “Ah, don’t we all think that, though? Our women are too good to be true sometimes.”

Newt nods distractedly, peering down at the various racks.

“So how long have you and the lady been together?”

“We’ve been on two dates.”

“Now that can’t be all.”

“It is.”

“Wow.” The salesman raises his eyebrows. “I guess you know when you know, huh?”

Newt pictures you, your smile, the way you look at four in the morning, how you’d held the carving and the plate of cookies and his hand so carefully, like you were careful of breaking each one.

“Anyone would with her. How much is this one?”

X. .

Newt takes a deep breath, wiping his hands on the front of his slacks as he stands, pushing his chair away from the supper table.

You cock your head. “Feeling all right?”

“A bit nervous, is all.”

“Why?”

Newt jerks his head in a shrug. “I suppose most people feel nervous proposing.” “Propose…” You trail off, eyes wide as Newt kneels in front of you. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

“Proposing. Is that all right?” His eyes shine with mild amusement.

You nod, blinking rapidly.

“Love, I’ve known you for years upon years. I mean, Hogwarts was a long time away for the both of us. Not that you’re old, of course, dear.” He adds with a quick grin before growing serious again. “Falling in love with you was inevitable, and it’s been nothing but a pleasure to be with you these past five months. You are a light I cannot shake, and I hope I never do.” He pulls the box from his pocket, swallowing his nerves as you wipe at a tear on your cheek.

“Love, I know you’ve plans for yourself in the future, and I was wondering if you would give me the honor of accompanying you on them.” He pops open the box, revealing an intricate ring that twists around itself, a line of small diamonds across the top.

“Newt, how much did that cost?” You choke out.

“Would you still say yes if I told you it cost everything I had?”

“Everything?” You murmur, dizzy.

“Even the shirt I’m wearing. I’ll have to return it after you give me an answer.” He laughs at your expression, the small scowl gracing your face. Merlin’s beard, you’re all he needs in this life. “So? I don’t mean to rush you, but this floor isn’t exactly kind to knees.”

You swallow the knot in your throat, have to before you can say yes. “I’d love to have you along forever.”

Newt had planned for everything – the dinner, the food, the words, the ring, everything – except how it would feel if you said yes.

A rush of emotions surge through him: elation, excitement, relief, love, adoration. He can hardly separate it all, and it takes him a moment before he can move, takes you laughing at him and asking for the ring before he can push himself to his feet and slide the ring onto your left hand.

He pulls your forehead to his, eyes shut, breath washing over your face. “I love you.” The intensity of his words frightens him, worries him that he’ll scare you, but you lean up and kiss him lightly, so similar to when he first kissed you that he wonders if he went back in time somehow, but then you break away with a smile and mumble the four words that bring him to his knees.

“I love you, too.”

#newt scamander #newt Scamander x reader #newt Scamander imagine #newt Scamander one shot #fbawtft #fluff #so much fluff #gahh such a beautiful song though #tysm for the request #sorry it turned out so long #that's why it took so much longer for me to post than I was expecting #I thought it'd be maybe 1800 words not nearly 4000 #but if anyone reads it all the way through #tysm #ik it's quite lengthy and I really appreciate anyone that takes the time to read it #you all are wonderful and I hope #as always #that you have a fantastic day #ily guys

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omg-reallyfuturisticcollection · 4 years

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30 Uncommon Mother’s Day Gifts

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This lovely, two coronary heart anklet is out there in gold, rose gold, or silver and might be personalized with as much as four-letter initials or the expression, Love. This may be a Unique Gifts For Mothers Day #8 Personalized Penny Keychain

Look no additional for cool mom’s day reward concepts, this personalized penny keychain is among the greatest we’ve seen! You possibly can select to incorporate as much as 10 pennies, every of which might be personalized with a reputation of as much as 9 characters. As a bonus, you'll be able to at the moment choose pennies made in any 12 months you want between 1940 and 2019! #9 Custom Recipe Plate Unique Gifts For Mothers Day

Give an awesome gift to your mother in 2020s mothers day. Custom place recipes are very unique gifts for mothers. Get one now.. #10 Mother & Daughter Letter Book Set

This excellent fancy letter ebook will permit your mom to share household recipes, handwritten letters, and messages which you'll be able to each treasure for years to return and even move onto future generations. This Unique Gifts For Mothers Day will make your mother very happy. #11 Home Is Where My Mom Is Coffee Mug

Let’s be trustworthy, generally, all of us run out time and wish to buy last-minute moms day reward concepts! Fortunately for us, this lovable espresso mug is the perfect approach to say I really like you in an easy but sweetly considerate means this mom’s day. #12 Camo Mama Bear Hooded Sweatshirt

Any Mother will like to get heat and comfortable on this lovable Mama Bear hooded sweatshirt gift. Additionally, for those who like the hoodie however would love another message, the vendor will, fortunately, run with you to print the phrases you want! #13 Monogrammed Nylon Medium Size Tote

Assist her to complete this in fashion with this attractive monogrammed tote bag. This Gifts for mothers in eleven completely different colors to go well with each persona and magnificence. #14 Custom Face Socks

In search of that really memorable gift ideas for your mother? We've got you lined with these funny customized photograph socks full with a sweetheart picture and, most significantly, your face! #15 Flower Necklace

Neglect about birthstones, do you know that every month additionally has its personal delivery flower too?! Present your mom one among these beautiful necklaces together. #16 Mother’s Birth Stone Ring

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What higher time to your mother to satisfy than on mom’s day? Be sure she gets the time to relax in fashion with this beautiful terry robe personalized together with her title. This bathrobe will make you happy. An awesome gift to your mother. #18 VERY CUTE Cactus Plants

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These lovely hymn tea towels are 100% cotton. A very nice gift for Mother's day. #21 Wearable Planter Necklaces

Buy something enjoyable and unique mom’s day! This wearable planter necklace is one of our favorite presents and a good way of gifting jewelry in an extra thoughtful and private means! #22 Anti-Stress BETA Bulb

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In case you’ve spent the previous few mom’s days gifting your mum probably the most lovely jewelry, this might be the proper 12 months to offer her this trendy awesome gift which shows it proudly while holding it secure! #26 Own Design Beach Towel

Summer is coming. Make it all of the extra particulars with this distinctive reward for mom’s day. #27 Personalized Doormats

Have this high-quality custom doormat loved one and surprise your mother with probably the most welcoming mom’s day reward of all these 12 months! #28 Dragon’s Egg Soap Boxed Set

Besides a not so delicate trace to Sport of Thrones, they’re excellent for the Mom of Dragons in your life! #29 Sea Urchin Air Plants

We could have discovered probably the most distinctive mom’s day reward thought of all! This funny set is available in lovely packaging and can offer a playfully ornamental addition to any house! #30 Mother’s Day Gift Basket

It’s full of an array of nice merchandise to calm down her and make her howl with a laugh all on the identical time! #31 Greek Leather Sandals

She’s positive to love these stylish Greek leather-based shoes. They’re not solely lovely however amazingly talented and supreme for when summertime comes or a future journey! So, there you've gotten our round-up of probably the most distinctive, emotional, and absolutely funny presents from across the internet! No matter your mom’s fashion or persona is, we hope we’ve offered you some actually particular person and uncommon presents that you simply really feel hot to surprise her with this upcoming mom’s day! Get the best gifts for your mom. #STAYATHOME #SHOPONLINE Sharing is caring! Read the full article

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What is Symptoms, Types, and Treatment of Fungal Infection

We all understand that skin is that the largest organ of our body. have you ever ever thought what if your skin gets ever infected with fungus? however your body would react to such skin condition?

We alright perceive that several of you would possibly not remember of the important explanation for plant touching your skin.

Through this text, we'll share our data regarding the flora skin infections and what to try and do if you've got anyone of them.

What Is Fungal Infections?

Fungal Infection is caused by harmful fungi, that lives within the air, soil, plants and in water yet. many sorts of fungi live naturally in our physique. Being flora a primitive organism, several of them are useful, whereas others are harmful. As a results of this harmful flora, the system of the physique finds troublesome to handle this skin condition once it takes over a district of the body.

When plant life invades the body, it may be troublesome to diagnose the precise cause in severe cases at the side of its hardness to kill. Some harmful plant life has the flexibility to survive even within the regular atmosphere and may re-infect the physique whenever they get the possibility.

Though some plant may be harmful however they can't be severe as many folks think about. If they're diagnosed at the proper time and given proper treatment, you'll keep your body protected against such infection. In several cases, once treated, they'll once more hit your body at any time, therefore the correct preventive measures modify you to scale back its effects on your body.

In this article, we are going to remark all quite that infections that are said to fungous – we are able to understood about its symptoms, completely different treatment choices in addition as home remedies to cure from this.

COMMON SYMPTOMS

The symptoms of these infections depend on the type of skin infection you have. Here, we will share common symptoms that will help you to find that your skin is infected with fungi.

1. Itching

2. Redness

3. Inflamed Skin

4. Scaling of the skin

5. Burning sensation

We will also help you to get aware of some home remedies for the particular infection. So, if you do not want to depend on professional treatments or want to keep your skin from creams or treatment containing harsh ingredients, you can go for the given home remedies for the type of fungal skin infection you have.

TYPES OF SKIN INFECTIONS

Here, we are going to discuss four different types of skin infections.

1). Athlete’s Foot

Athlete’s Foot, conjointly referred to as athlete's foot, could be a kind of skin infections that happens on the feet, leading to cutaneous sensation, scaling, and redness. it's one in every of the common infections that sometimes grow in wet environments. individuals in sports are common victims of this infection, as their feet tend to measure additional in wetness because of the carrying of socks and shoes, their sporting goods for a protracted time. it's the reason; this infection sort is called as Athlete’s Foot.

In reality, this infection will have an effect on anyone within the hotter and hot climates, as in these climate, fungi multiply quickly that will result in a additional severe skin condition.

This skin infection sort isn't serious, it is cured simply, however typically it's laborious to treat supported your personal health condition. Like, if you've got polygenic disorder or weak system then solidifying this infection is very little tough from your finish. So, rather than being enthusiastic about home remedies, check that to consult a doctor quickly.

Symptoms of Athlete’s Foot

1. Itching or burning sensation in the infected area

2. Peeling or cracking skin

3. Redness or blisters on the itching foot

4. Raw skin on the foot

5. Discolored and crumbling toenails

6. Treatment for Athlete’s Foot

Sometimes, this skin infection sort is treated with skin creams or lotions to stay your feet moisturized for a protracted time, that successively forestall them from giving Associate in Nursing infection. But, once this selection doesn't work, Associate in Nursing oral antifungal medication is suggested because the right treatment.

Some doctors conjointly advocate home remedies to clear up the infection. Like, take a bucket of salt water or diluted vinegar, soak your feet for couple of minutes. it'll facilitate in evaporation the blisters and provides you relief from restless and burning skin.

Another home remedy choice is to use Tea Tree Oil. it's thought-about because the simplest home medical aid to treat on the skin. it's been clinically verified because the best skin care answer for several individuals. confine mind that you just should raise your doctor if you'll be able to use this oil for your infection, as a result of it should cause additional skin issues for individuals with a particular skin sort.

Home remedies for these infections are one thing that we will concede to avoid Anti-fungal medications containing steroids..

2). Jock Itch

Jock Itch, conjointly called roundworm, could be a form of plant life skin infection that loves the foremost wet elements of the material body. The areas like groin, butts, inner thighs and reproductive organ are common to grow this infection. As its name implies, this skin condition are often terribly fidgety, which can provide some relief victimization the creams developed specifically to cure itching and redness on the affected area.

Also, if you are available direct contact with associate infected person or an object carrying the associated fungi, you're presumably to induce infected and can notice a rounded rash on the affected space.

If you're experiencing a red, fretful rash on the mentioned areas and aren't certain that the condition is eczema marginatum, you're suggested to contact your doctor for the correct diagnosing.

Symptoms of Jock Itch

1. Redness in the groin or thighs

2. Irritation, itching or burning sensation in the infected area

3. Red rashes in a circular shape with elevated edges

4. Cracking or peeling of the skin

Treatment for Jock Itch

The treatment of eczema marginatum involves topical Anti-fungal medications and correct care of the infected space, like keeping it clean and dry. Even victimization over-the-counter Anti-fungal creams and sprays conjointly works effectively in treating such style of Fungal Infection.

Before applying any ointment, ensure to clean and dry the infected space with a clean cloth/towel. you need to additionally amendment garments each day and avoid dirt or mud particles to settle in this space. These steps will kill the flora and can keep your skin infected-free.

3). Ringworm

Ringworm is another flora skin infection, conjointly called ringworm, that is sometimes caused by the plant life lives on the dead skin tissues. This infection will have an effect on any space of the body and ordinarily sounds like red, circular, uneven and fretful sore.

A small fretful space will bit by bit turn out to be the circular form, that makes it easier to diagnose this sort of infection. roundworm is contagious and might infect others by direct contact with infected person. Heat and wetness may result to worsen the condition and if not cured properly it should unfold on alternative areas of the body. This infection could have an effect on skin on the scalp, feet, groin, and alternative areas.

Symptoms of Ringworm

1. Ring-shaped patch on the skin

2. Itchy, scaly or raised patches

3. Itchiness and burning sensation

4. Redder on the outside edges with ring appearance

Treatment for Ringworm

Though tinea is incredibly simple to diagnose, still doctor recommends the medication counting on the severity of the skin condition. In most of the cases, ointments and creams are spare to treat ringworms, however in several cases, a selected prescription is provided to kill the plant from within the skin. Over-the-counter medications and antifungal skin creams also are suggested to use frequently to destroy the plant from roots.

The basic hygiene is important to stay in mind to stop tinea to grow and to re-infect. it's smart to stay your skin clean and dry to urge eliminate infection on the skin. Also, ne'er share garments, towels or personal things with others, even in your family, because the infection might simply unfold from the infected person.

4). Yeast Infection

Yeast infection is caused by yeast-like fungi known as fungus which will have an effect on any skin space of the body. This infection ordinarily happens once yeast on the skin grows sharply, leading to the red, scaling and restless rash on the affected space. The overgrowth of fungus might ends up in associate degree imbalance of microorganism thanks to antibiotics, stress, secretion imbalances, improper diet, and others.

No doubt like different skin infections, this infection may additionally have an effect on any skin surface on the body, however it should unfold actively in heat and wet areas like armpits, groin and skin folds.

You must additionally grasp that this plant life is of course found in your body, wherever your system plays an excellent role keep it from developing out of management. Yeast infection is common in folks with fat or polygenic disease, United Nations agency are the primary selection of this sort of infection.

Candida infections can cause:

1. Fungal Toenail infections

2. Diaper Rash in infants

3. Oral Thrush Infection – It occurs in the mouth, especially in the babies whom immune systems are still in developing stage. If you take antibiotics and have a habit of not rinsing your mouth afterward, this infection may catch you easily.

4. Vaginal Yeast Infection – It hits three out of four women for a variety of reasons. Hormonal changes or certain birth control pills may also increase the chances of getting affected by yeast infection. The women with sexually transmitted diseases or with higher sugar levels are at a higher risk of this infection.

Symptoms of Yeast Infection

1. Itching and Swelling

2. Burning sensation in the infected area

3. Redness and soreness

4. Cracked skin

5. Painful urination and Vaginal discharge in vaginal yeast infection

Treatment for Yeast Infection

Treatment of any plant life skin infection fully depends on its severity, that is applicable to yeast infection also. the essential treatment includes creams or tablets, suggested by the doctor or the over-the-counter medications. The common brands for unlisted medications for yeast infections are antifungal and Vagistat. If any reasonably quality is found in your skin condition, the doctor can visit the treatment consequently.

The steps to stop yeast infections embody a diet and correct hygiene that features baggy wear and alter of female merchandise ofttimes. These easy steps work effectively in preventing plant life growth.

We have already mentioned regarding Tea Tree Oil, that could be a extremely effective answer to kill plant, bacteria, and viruses. This oil has the ability to treat any reasonably skin infection. merely consult your doctor before exploitation it because the treatment to cure infection on your skin.

It has been additionally found that food acts as a natural remedy to stop yeast and alternative microorganism infections. So, if you're laid low with yeast infection, you'll be able to take into account intake food because the best home remedy to urge relief from infection.

In several cases, once the yeast infection doesn't reply to antifungal medications, chemical element acid with antiseptic and antifungal properties works as another treatment to cure your skin condition. certify to not use this treatment before consulting your doctor.

#fungal infection

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