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thefanficmonster · 4 years

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What's It To You?

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: To some people, relationship labels aren’t important. To some they aren’t important only in theory. Well, Y/N finds out she falls in the later category, leading to a falling out with her boyfriend Corpse.

Requested by Anon. You’ll know who you are when you read the fic 😉 Thank you for the ‘angsty argument’ request. I hope I captured what you had in mind and I hope you enjoy the read. Love, Vy 🥰

The time is nearing 7PM and Corpse has barely eaten anything. I always keep track of his meals and time spent in front of a computer screen, making sure he doesn’t spend too much time exhausting his eyes or starving himself. He never notices he’s hungry until he takes a bite of something and his appetite grows in matter of seconds. The real battle is to get him to take that first bite.

I get up from the couch, walking into the kitchen. I open the fridge, scanning its contents for any ideas that might pop into my head for dinner. When nothing comes to mind, I resort to my last option - asking him. There’s only a slight chance he’ll be of any help. He’ll most likely say he’s not hungry or that he’ll make himself something late. He never does. I’ve gotten used to him being a man-child when it comes to eating. In the eleven months that we’ve been dating, I’ve force fed him more times than he has eaten on his own terms.

I go upstairs, stopping outside the door to his recording room to see if he’s talking to someone so I don’t walk in and interrupt. When no noises come from the inside I knock.

“Come in.“

Upon opening the door, I’m met with Corpse nonchalantly sitting in his desk chair, leaning as back as he can without tipping over. Arms folded behind his head, legs stretched out in front of him. The whole nine yards, suggesting that he not streaming.

“Hey.“ He greets me as he turns his chair a bit in an attempt to face me

“Hey, what’d you like for dinner?“ He opens his mouth to reply the millisecond after I have spoken my question. I already know what that reply will be so I hurry to prevent it, “And no, ‘later’ and ‘I’m not hungry’ aren’t on the menu.“

He sighs, shaking his head as though he’s disappointed that I caught onto his game. The smile that slowly makes its way to his lips, however, suggests that he appreciates my concern. “Grilled cheese sandwiches? I mean, if you feel like it.”

I smile, relieved that the usual convincing portion of our interaction on this specific matter has been avoided. “Ok. Be down in fifteen then.” I give him a nod before heading back out into the hallway.

Before I am able to close the door, I hear someone else’s voice come from behind me. “Hey Corpse, was that on your end?”

Oh shit, he wasn’t muted

“Yeah man, sorry. Accidentally unmuted myself.“ Corpse sounds unbothered by this, but I am a little uneasy now.

Corpse and I have agreed to keep our relationship by a ‘won’t ask, won’t tell’ rule - if someone asks him if he’s in a relationship, he won’t lie and say no, but we haven’t gone public nor do we plan on doing so without someone asking us about it head-on. Well, not us. Him. His friends don’t know me and neither do his fans. I’m not in the same industry. I don’t stream nor film YouTube videos. The most I do for that platform is help Corpse with some editing when he needs to have a rest. So, if anyone were to reveal our relationship, it’d be him.

“Oooh, who was that?“ A girl’s voice asks teasingly. “Corpse, what are you not telling us?“

By this point, I’m out in the hall but I left my ears in the room. I know I’m not in the right here - eavesdropping is most definitely not nice, but I can’t help myself.

I hear him chuckle, “Nah, it’s just my friend Y/N.”

My heart drops so suddenly for a reason beyond my understanding. I feel like a kid feels when it’s told Santa isn’t real - I can’t believe what I heard.

I hurry to get back downstairs as soon as possible and also as quietly as I can. It’s tough, running with a pit in your stomach and a knot of I’m pretty sure is tears in your throat. When I’m finally in the kitchen, the aforementioned tears are blurring my vision. I try to blink them away but accidentally send one of them trickling down my cheek.

I’m aware this might be an overreaction and if I stopped to think I could probably find ways to justify what Corpse said. But I’m genuinely hurt, and I hate that I am.

I’ve never cared about what others know about me or think of me. Same goes for my relationships. I don’t put labels on things nor on my connection to people. I am surprised and disturbed by how much the label ‘friends’ bothers me. We’ve been dating for almost a year now, you’d think calling me his girlfriend would be second nature. Guess not.

I swallow the hurt and surprise, deciding to keep myself busy with the preparations for the dinner I was planning to make. However, keeping my hands full and giving my eyes a place to look doesn’t stop my thoughts from eating away at me.

* * *

Twenty minutes later the sound of a door opening echoes from upstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps going through the hallway and then down the stairs.

“It smells so good in here.“ He comments, his eyebrows raising when he takes in the freshly made sandwiches on the kitchen island. “You’re the best, Y/N.“

“Hmm, aren’t you lucky you have a friend who knows their way around the kitchen, huh?“ I reply sharply, not even sparing him a glance.

In the twenty minutes I was left alone with my wilding thoughts I declared that I wouldn’t beat around bush when he comes downstairs. That I would address the issue and tell him exactly how I feel about it. What I didn’t plan was being so harsh. I actually barely contain a wince when I realize how sharp of an edge my words had.

I feel ten times more guilty when I see the regret that flashes on his face, “You heard that.” He grips the edges of the table, leaning down and letting out a sigh, “I’m sorry, I panicked.”

The anger in me evaporates, leaving room for the hurt to keep spreading and take over me. I was never really angry with him, I’m just upset by the fact that his immediate reaction wasn’t to refer to me as his girlfriend.

“Why would you panic? What’s it to you if they know?“ My voice is barely above a whisper now, the tears I’m fighting back are clogging my throat, not allowing me to sound as clearly as I’d like.

“What’s it to you? I thought you didn’t care.“ He argues back, his gaze travelling from the tabletop to my eyes. I see the guilt in all his features and his body language.

“I thought so too.“ I shake my head, “But hearing you call me a ‘friend’...’just a friend’ stings. I don’t even know why, but it does. It feels almost like you are embarrassed of me. If that’s the case you can just tell me, you know?“

In a blink of an eye he’s crouched down in front of me, one hand holding both of mine while the other cups my cheek. “It’s not. It has never been and it will never be the case. You are one amazing person, Y/N. You deserve the world, not to be stuck with me. I’m just...” He trails off, his eyes not able to focus on mine any longer, “I’m scared of how people knowing about us will affect our relationship.”

My blood starts boiling again. I know I need to get away from him before I reach the point of saying something that’ll hurt him, so I untangle my hands from his grasp, pulling away from him. “Weak excuse, Corpse. You know it will change nothing except make me feel more included in your life. I will no longer feel like I’m a house rat no one knows about.” I stand up, unable to look at him, and start heading for the staircase.

“Y/N, please! ”I stop dead in my tracks when he calls out my name, his footsteps following behind me. “Don’t be...-”

I turn around, cutting him off in the process, “I need to be alone right now.” I tilt my head in the direction of the dining table, “Sit down and eat dinner. We’ll talk...later.”

* * *

Now that it’s been almost twelve hours with no contact between us I realize that my reaction was justified only to a certain extent. I understand his concerns and I could’ve expressed mine a little more calmly and in a lot less accusatory manner. But what happened happened and all I can do now is go over to him and apologize, establish a proper communication to resolve the issue that I so stupidly blew out of proportion.

My phone died sometime during the night and has been sitting on the charger but still turned off for a while. I go over to it and press-hold the start button. While it’s powering up I start changing my from my pajamas into my regular clothes, noticing a small stain on my shirt in the process. As I’m examining the stain, my phone starts going crazy with notifications, causing me to jump and drop my shirt.

“Fucking hell.” I mumble, disconnecting my phone from the charger and looking at the huge list of notifications on my lock screen. They are all alerts of new followers, likes and tags, non from people I know. Non except one.

@ corpse_husband tagged you in a post

Wait what?

I tap the notification which leads me to a picture Corpse posted two hours ago. It’s a picture of me taken in the living room without my knowledge. I’m an oversized sweater and yoga pants, my hair in a messy braid and my attention caught by the book in my hands. My glasses have slipped a bit down my nose, suggesting that I’m too concentrated on the contents of the pages in front of me that I haven’t noticed.

We started off as friends but it didn’t take long for her to become my best friend. And then she stole my heart. I know you’ll read this eventually, Y/N. So...hi. Love you.

PS - the sandwiches were bomb 🖤

I’m more than caught off guard. Like a surprise hug from behind, warmth spreading all throughout my body.

Without a second of hesitation I put my phone down and run to the bedroom door. However, I don’t make it very far considering I nearly run straight into Corpse’s chest as I exit the room. He catches me before I knock him straight to the ground, thankfully.

“Aren’t you a rocket this morning. Where are you headed?“ He chuckles, holding onto my upper arms.

One look at his smile, a single word out of his mouth and I’m melting. I walk straight into him, wrapping my arms around his torso, hiding my face in his chest. He comfortably rests his chin on the top of my head, not asking any further questions until I finally answer.

“Right here. I was heading for you.“ I whisper before I pull away enough to be able to look him in the eyes. “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I was being childish and overdramatic and I’m sorry about all I said. I was really upset.“

“It’s ok, baby. I’m sorry for making you upset in the first place. I understand now how much it means to you.“ He caresses my cheekbone with the back of his hand. “I...um...tried to make things right by...“

I push up on my toes, pressing my lips against his, putting an end to his timid stuttering. “I saw it.” I mumble in the kiss.

“Did you like it?“

“I loved it.“

“Did you read the comments?“

My heart skips a beat when I hear that dreaded term. Just the thought of reading through the comments terrifies me. I tell myself that some strangers’ words aren’t gonna have an impact on me, but I know they will. Especially since these ‘strangers’ mean so much to Corpse.

I shake my head. He pulls away, taking my hand and leading me towards the living room. “You have to. You’re gonna love them.”

I reluctantly follow him, plopping down on the couch next to him as he pulls out his phone and scrolls through the comment section of the picture he posted. He was right. All these people have said such things about me and about our relationship. Some verified names are also there, sharing their support much like the fans.

“See, this is why I was nervous. I’ll have to do duels for your attention now.“ He glances at me, leaning in and kissing my temple as he sometimes does so impulsively.

“You don’t do duels when you are already sitting at the throne. Right next to me.“ I once again capture his lips with mine, tempted to never pull away, but also tempted to keep reading the comments.

Damn, he might be right about the duels.

He takes his phone from me setting it aside as he slowly lifts me and settles me in his lap, never letting our lips detach.

Nevermind. Fuck the duels

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

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Ging Freecss Character Analysis

Hisoka Analysis| Illumi Analysis| Killua Analysis| Chrollo Analysis

What’s up, y’all? I am back again with another analysis. Today, I will be talking about Ging Freecss and I am glad that this was requested by @dukinaxael. I’ve been wanting to talk about Ging for a while and now is my time to shine. PS, I’ll be doing Leorio’s character next. I’m sorry that this is so short! I haven’t been able to watch the last seasons because Netflix will not upload them. Enjoy anyway!

We all know that Ging is considered to be a dead-beat father to his son Gon. He is the reason why Gon wants to become a hunter in the first place and will do ANYTHING to achieve that goal. As the story is told, Ging left his home when he was 12 years old to take the Hunter’s exam. After passing, he never returned home, at some point met Gon’s mom, and saved a lot of felons/criminal’s lives. Now he is apart of the Hunter’s association (I think?) and apart of the Zodiacs (I think). Some of these next statements are assumptions because I haven’t seen anything past season 4. From that little bit of information, it seems like Gon gets his “over achiever” mentality from his dad. Who would have thought that a young man who had just obtained his hunter’s license would use it to help out criminals instead of busting them? Aunt Mito has expressed how she felt once her brother left and didn’t return, that is why she stressed that Gon should return home once he gets his license. She even stated that she cried for the longest when she realized he wasn’t coming back.

The whole mystery about why Ging abandoned Gon is very fuzzy. According to Aunt Mito, Ging dropped Gon at his house, said that he isn’t with Gon’s mom anymore, and left while some people say that Mito took Gon from Ging because she felt that he was too immature to take care of him. Some even say that he lost a custody case to her. I can’t tell you if this is true or not because I don’t know and I haven’t seen any seasons after 4.

Judging from YouTube Clips, Ging seems to be a selfish dad and doesn’t care about how his son basically cried like fuck for feeling guilty about what happened to Kite.

Leorio asked why he hadn’t seen Gon in the hospital and he acted like he didn’t care. If you think about it, Gon is the type of child that doesn’t want things handed to him, so maybe Ging was implying that he didn’t want to see Gon until he continued to push and work towards finding him. Still, that’s a horrible way to reacted once you’ve found out that your son is about to die. Here are some questions that I’m sure most of you have:

Why did Hisoka want to talk to Ging? Does he know that Ging is related to Gon?

Why does he refuse to go anywhere near Gon?

Why does he only talk to Gon on a high tree and not on the ground where everyone else is?

Why did he send his son on a goose chase just to find him?

I don’t want to say that I hate Ging but I strongly dislike him. (If he did do this) Why would you abandoned your child and leave him with your sister for her to raise? Then you send your 12 year old son, who had endured so much emotional pain/trauma from beasts he had to fight along the way, BTW, just to meet you and then you only talk to him once your high off the ground? Ging, not the best guy in the world and certainly doesn’t deserve the #1 Dad mug.

Did Ging do all of this so he could make his son stronger while he was away?

In regards to question 1, I’ve seen some rumors on YouTube implying that Hisoka had an agreement with Ging to watch over Gon until he returns. I’m assuming this was after Gon left home. Ging said that once Gon returns home safely he and Hisoka will fight until the death.

Do you all remember when Hisoka told Gon something along these lines at the end of their fight at Heaven’s arena?

Many people have suggested that Hisoka had been protecting Gon and Killua from fighting opponents they wouldn't win against and it makes sense. He wouldn’t let them pass until they learned about Nen and beat the crap out of them hoping that the pain would cause them to quit fighting and never receive their Hunter’s License or take on strong opponents. Now if that last part is true, why would Ging set up an entire game to lead Gon to him? That's still twisted no matter how you look at it. Like I said, this manga is twisted in ways that I can't understand, lol.

Hisoka and Gon consistently fighting reminds me of Danny Phantom and Vlad Plasmius.

Another person implied that Hisoka and Kite were people directed by Ging and along the way included Bisky (just by coincidence).

I would like to make a note. Pictures that were taken of young Ging portrayed him to be a happy and proud man but present day Ging looks angry, unhappy, and always ready to fight. Could this be due to the horrific nature of the Hunter's exam and other opponents that turned his innocence and humanity into something worse? We see the same thing happen to Gon. He was a happy bright kid that allows his anger to spiral out of control...and always wants to fight.

Well, you know what they say: Like father like son.

Ging and Gon finally have a talk as father and son.

Apparently, Ging is on his way to the Dark Continent and forbids Gon to follow him. Overall, Ging has a toxic love for his son by consistently pushing his away until the very last second. I don’t know what is up but this anime is the definition of toxic love.

I can definitely say that Ging is a much better father than Zarkon. At least he acknowledges Gon unlike Zarkon who thinks his son is weak because he is half Altean. Damn, anime/manga’s; what’s up with the toxic father trope? Is this supposed to be the driving force to marketing these male characters stronger? Not going to lie, the toxic or sexist father trope is old and annoying .

This part of the analysis is based form what I’ve heard about Ging, YouTube clips, and what has been said about him. Of course I’m probably leaving out a lot of information but that’s because I haven’t seen the rest of the seasons.

Judging from photos kept around the house, Ging always wore his hat over his eye. I guess he was going for the Emo look when he was younger. His hat has hairs stick out from it which probably implies a certain type of cloth the hat is made from. In other instances, He has his hair sticking up like Gon’s but has a cloth wrapped around the edges. He wants them to be on fleek you know? Other times he just has his hair out with no hat or cloth. He usually wears white pants, shirt, and a blue cloth over his front and back side.

I hope you all enjoyed this. I did try my best and I am so sorry that it is short.

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yeojaa · 4 years

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finders keep hers, ii.

read parts one and three! continued because i have zero self-control and i love/hate these idiots and like ... i just wanna give people what they want. ty to @hobi-gif for always beta reading and you (yes, you!) for normal reading. i lob you! xo

ps. picture these versions of jimin, tae, yoongi, and jungkook.

pairing. jjk x (named) f!reader. rating. still explicit, lolz. tags. smut! a lil bit of pining! jealousy! also, cameos from the other boys, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex (be safe luvs!), and a bunch of other semi-vanilla things. wc. 4.3k.

“Who’s that?” Jimin means the pretty blonde that’s attached to your best friend, snug against his hip like some kind of conjoined monster - a distant relative to the thing that’s rearing its own ugly green head from its slumber in your chest.

“I don’t know.” Lie.

Because Jungkook’s been talking your ear off about her for the past three weeks, regaling you with details you’d rather not know. Like how she does yoga at the crack of dawn and he picks her up from every class. She, apparently, looks incredible in spandex and loves her green smoothies. Or how she went to private school in Belgium and she’s got - in his words - the cutest accent. He’s mimicked it once or twice, demonstrating how her vowels don’t round like a local’s would.

You’ve heard too much about her and it’s driving you crazy.

The angel at your side - because that’s what Jimin is, with his feather grey hair and rounded Cupid’s bow - takes a sip of his drink, studying you curiously over the Baccarat rim. You can see the curiosity swimming in his eyes, painted across his features in broad strokes.

You return his stare without blinking, silently daring him to say something. He knows better - considering he’s been your shoulder to cry on more than one weak-kneed, booze-laden occasion.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Meaning the rooftop, away from the crowd that dominates the 44th floor penthouse.

You shake your head - a little motion that wiggles your bangs free from behind your ears - and take a generous sip of the Veuve that bubbles about in your champagne flute. You’re not celebrating anything - this is just how Jungkook parties. With bottles and strangers and deep bass thrumming so loudly you can feel it chatter your teeth.

Another sip and your glass is empty. “No.” You seize another from the bar you’re both leaning against, wondering idly whether it’s your third or fourth or maybe even seventh glass. You’d lost count about thirty minutes ago when Jungkook had strolled in with her on his arm, clothes dishevelled and that stupid grin on his face.

Of course he’d been late to his own party and of course he was sporting a lipstick stain on the collar of his otherwise pristine white Oxford.

“You sure?” You know Jimin means well but you can’t stand the heat of his stare or how it feels like pity digging itself beneath your bones. You don’t need - nor want - his sympathy. Not now.

“Yes,” you snap more harshly than you mean to. A wounded animal lashing out, biting the hand that feeds it.

Luckily, Jimin knows you - has, for nearly the last decade - and he takes it in stride. Chin bounces, the smallest of smiles offered in penance for his pushiness. He doesn’t need to apologize and really, he shouldn’t, but he’s Park Jimin and he’s far too kind so he does it anyway.

“I’m going to hunt down some snacks. If you need me, just come find me.”

It feels infinitely worse when he presses a kiss to your temple and disappears into the throng of people, leaving you alone with the thoughts that buzz around in your head (or maybe that’s just from the liquor).

“Replaced, huh?” You’d recognize that voice anywhere. It rings in your ears when you’re trying to work, forcing its way into your skull when you’re twenty sheets deep in Excel fixing some junior’s mistake. You hear it more often than you like, both in the office and when you least expect it.

You barely turn to acknowledge the broodingly handsome brunet who has seemingly materialized out of thin air. You don’t need to turn to him to see how good he looks, all carefully tousled hair and that self-assured smile.

“What’re you talking about?” It’s easier to play dumb than to play directly into his hand. You’d learnt that ages ago. Kim Taehyung was a force to be reckoned with.

“Look.” A hand lands on your jaw, none-too-subtly guiding your stare in the direction you’d been so adamantly turned away from. Jungkook and his flavour of the week are locked in a fight to see who can eat each other’s face more thoroughly, tongues so far down the other’s throat that you feel your own gag reflex kick up. “Shouldn’t you be over there?”

Concern flares, streaking heat across your cheeks. How did he know? “What?”

There’s a twinkle in his eyes, mischief dancing in his irises as he studies you, fingers burning impossibly warmer over your skin. “You’re best friends, aren’t you? Why’re you standing here by yourself?”

You almost laugh, relief crashing over you with enough force to knock a breath from your lungs.

“Tae, leave her alone.” It’s your knight in shining armour - or finely woven Saint Laurent cashmere, in this case - a Manhattan in hand and a scowl on his face. You thank your lucky stars, not bothering to conceal the smirk you shoot at the reprimanded playboy.

“Yeah, Tae. Leave me alone.”

He doesn’t need to be told a third time, though he levels both you and your saviour with a narrowed stare. It stirs something uncomfortable in the pit of your stomach, like a snake uncoiling and preparing to strike. You think he might say something - you can see him playing through the scenarios in his head - but he thinks better of it at the last second, draining his beer and turning away without another word.

You watch Taehyung’s crown of inky hair disappear among the crowd. It’s only once his loudly patterned Burberry shirt is out of sight that you swivel your gaze to the man at your side. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” That distinct gummy smile fills his expression. It looks good on him - but then again, most things do. With his perfectly mused strands - currently a flattering shade of teddy bear brown and honey blonde - and observant feline features, Min Yoongi is handsome in a way that sneaks up on you, dressing himself in shadows and presenting it at the strangest times.

Like now, for instance, when you’re growing tired of watching your best friend act like a high school freshman.

“You okay, though?”

“Why - do I not look like it?”

You don’t miss the way his attention drags lazily over your features and then, almost pointedly, down the lissome column of your frame. How he pauses appreciatively where wine spills over cream, the mulberry silk of your wrap dress standing in stark contrast to the porcelain of your skin. It ties neatly at the smallest point of your waist - a gift begging to be torn apart.

Something crackles between you. You’re not sure where it is or where it starts but it fizzles, bright white and dangerous. A livewire you’re suddenly very eager to inspect.

“I’d say you look more than okay,” he returns dryly, in that low timbre of his.

You feign surprise, lashes fluttering like a schoolgirl. “Are you flirting with me, Yoongi?”

It’s a testament to his confidence - that lazy swagger that fits itself into the slope of his jaw, the soft shape of his mouth, the inescapable focus of his stare - when he advances a step. There’s already hardly any space between you but he eats it up like a starved predator, crowding you with ease.

“Do you want me to be?” The bitterness of whiskey fans across your face, creeping heat over your cheek and up the delicate shell of your ear. The scent of his cologne follows - distinctly masculine and reminiscent of the sea.

“Are you answering a question with a question?” You know it isn’t what he’s looking for but you offer it anyway, paired with a taunting smile and a coquettish turn of your head.

His jaw pulls almost imperceptibly; it’s only your close proximity that gives away the thrumming muscle. Something entices you to reach out - frustration or, more likely, the bottomless champagne - and you do, the pad of your thumb soothing over the tension. You don’t expect him to lean into your touch and you nearly retreat when he does.

The flat of his own hand rises, piano-honed fingers threading easily between yours. There’s a different kind of smile presenting itself now, reckless at the edges and dressed in an unspoken challenge. He presses it wordlessly into your palm, edge of enamel catching on the baby soft underside of your hand.

You feel the livewire now. It’s a flash of lightning, searing a billion volts through every limb.

It’s a surprise that you find your voice so easily, though it comes reedy and vaguely out of breath. “That’s a yes.” You’re mimicking the motion of his mouth, dragging your own lip through the cage of your teeth. He watches, unblinking.

Crystal rim replaces the warmth of your hand as he drains the amber liquid in a single motion, nearly slamming the glass down beside you. You’d turn to make sure it’s not in a million little pieces - but you’re far too distracted by the softness of his lips, how he tastes strongly herbaceous and smokey.

The first thought to your mind is that Min Yoongi kisses nothing like Jeon Jungkook.

The second, well - that’s stolen away, disappearing into a haze of desire when he sweeps the wet muscle of his tongue across your bottom lip. He does it once then repeats the motion with an addendum of enamel, turning his polite request into a gentle demand you’re all too willing to meet.

Broad, soft palms find the shape of you beneath your dress, one gliding easily over silk to rest comfortably across the swell of your hip while the other ascends in tandem, finding a home over the column of your throat. There’s no aggression in the way he moves and claims you. He trades force for grace, threading passion where his tongue swipes and his teeth mark.

It’s a slow burn rather than a raging inferno - scorched earth following a thunderstorm.

Yoongi’s touch is deliberate, each stroke of skin over skin meant to entice you. He does it well, with practiced ease - a sweep of his thumb over the hidden lace of your bra, the press of his fingers into the sensitive softness of your neck.

Even how he devours you whole is measured, calculated. He isn’t an overeager teenager looking for a quick fuck; he wants to indulge like a king at his last feast.

“You taste good,” he hums against your lips, bitten cherry red and glossy with his spit. “Look so pretty, too.”

Praise from Yoongi doesn’t come often so you bask in it, delirium and liquor painting your smile unabashed. It pulls low and slow, spilling like stars into the darkness of your eyes, the black of your pupils that devour the iris whole.

“You haven’t even tasted the sweetest part.”

It comes crashing out of your mouth like a freight train, dressed in champagne-fueled salaciousness and paired with fluttering lashes. A part of you wonders whether you’re being too forward but at this point, you can’t bring yourself to care. Between the alcohol and his touch, you’re drunk in more ways than one.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though. Not if his grin says anything, framed in danger and delight. It’s a heady mixture - an aphrodisiac in the form of a person’s smile. “Have to fix that then, don’t we?”

You’re ready to take him up on it - ready to do a lot of things, frankly - when a voice presents itself just beyond Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Fix what?”

Of course it’d be Jungkook.

You turn your attention to him first - you can feel Yoongi’s heavy-lidded stare trained on you when you pull away, when the warmth of your body retreats just enough that you can focus on something other than the overwhelming desire that sparks between the two of you.

Your best friend is standing not three feet away, arms folded over his chest in a way that reads like a surly nightclub bouncer or a begrudging boss. It’s nothing like the sunny radiance he normally wears - a byproduct of being rich and handsome and far too charming for his own good. You’re curious whether it’s the alcohol - you can see it still, swimming in his eyes and turning them hazy - or the fact that blondie isn’t at his side. Had she left him to fend for himself and now he was taking it out on you?

He repeats himself when neither you nor Yoongi answer, an edge to his voice you don’t expect.

“Nothing.” You, again, speak first. You don’t miss the way your answer sounds more like coddling, sweeping reassurance off your tongue.

Yoongi retreats a step, turning on his heel enough to position himself partially facing both you and Jungkook. At this angle, you study his profile, trying to find the ways emotion fits among his features. It’s a lost cause, though - he’s always had an incredible poker face.

“I was just saying her belt was a bit—” You catch the mischief that pulls the corner of his mouth high, revealing pink gums. “—loose.”

A sharp inhale follows immediately after. You don’t even realize it’s you until Jungkook is speaking, expression set and muscle pumping in his jaw. You’d think it was hot if it weren’t so goddamn uncomfortable. “Yeah?”

Sweet Yoongi is utterly unbothered, nonplussed as he adjusts the timepiece on his wrist. “Yeah.”

Watching the two interact is akin to sitting front-row at Wimbledon, your gaze bouncing between the two men like they’re whipping a fluorescent yellow ball between them. It’s so unbearable you have to remind yourself that they’ve been friends for years.

“I’m heading out,” Yoongi says, rather abruptly. He sounds almost bored, training his focus back on you for these last few moments. “Call me.”

You nod dumbly, watching his retreating back with an equally dumb look on your face.

“What the hell was that?” Jungkook’s taken up his hyung’s place, dangerously close and with a sour expression on his face. You almost want to make fun of him for it - how he looks like he’s just sucked on an underripe lemon. When he levels you with that look, though, you think better of it. Time and place and all that.

You don’t meet his eyes. “Was what?”

“That.”

The same edge presents itself again. It mixes with something you can’t place, colouring his words an alarming shade of red that has your brow furrowing and mouth following suit. You don’t appreciate the tone and you say as much, finally meeting his stare with defiance burning away the residual liquor in your system. “None of your business.”

Whatever he’d been expecting, this isn’t it. Brows shoot high, tongue rounding the interior of his cheek. You’d recognize that look anywhere. It’s the look that always gets him what he wants.

Which is why, once he’s abruptly kicked all of his guests out - to a chorus of boos and what the hells! - you’re on your back in the middle of his living room. Your dress - the poor, beautiful thing - lies in a heap somewhere in the kitchen, possibly caught across the back of one of his bar stools, and his clothes act like a trail of breadcrumbs leading from the front door. Shirt, pants, socks.

All he’s left in is black Calvin Klein boxer briefs. It complements your own La Perla bra well - all delicate lace and macrame.

“Say it again,” he demands from between your legs, knees hooked over his shoulders as he coaxes you to another orgasm. One shapely forearm rests across your hip, pressure heavy on your abdomen as you clench pathetically around his fingers. He’s tapping a near brutal rhythm against your g-spot, curling two fingers within you until you’re seeing stars and too fucked-out to remember what you’re supposed to be saying.

Jungkook has no sympathy, though.

He repeats himself with gravel in his throat, pad of his thumb ghosting over the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. You tremble with each pass, seeking more friction; your back is arching with delirious need, hips rolling of their own accord. It’s almost inconsequential against the weight of him.

“Say it,” he barks - a petulant child demanding a toy.

“You’re better!” It’s more a broken shriek, a sob that wrenches forth and fits lamely with the words he so desires. It almost isn’t good enough but he thinks he’s dragged this on long enough. He hasn’t even had his fun yet and you’re already shaking with oversensitivity.

“Better than who?” The question comes in a warm breath that has you bucking toward the source - or trying to, at least. You’re so needy he can��t help but laugh - a far cry from your usual too-good-for-cuddling self - the sound muffled by the slick that coats your thighs and drips down your slit, making the sweetest mess.

“Than anyone.”

He tuts, withdraws his fingers from your obscenely wet walls, and studies the strands that connect them. Pink tongue glides over his index before he’s slotting both digits against his cheek, indulging in the taste of you. If he weren’t so focused on the conversation at hand, he’d be drinking directly from the source. “Not just anyone, baby.”

You look almost shy - or at least as shy as you can look with your throat and shoulders painted with bruises and bites, chest heaving.

“Than Yoongi.”

“Don’t you forget it, sweetheart,” he coos, so kindly you almost forget about the merciless edging he’s just done, bringing you to the precipice of bliss before ripping it away.

You seek him out - the kiss-swollen shape of his mouth, the unyielding contours of his back - like you need him, like your trembling touch might coerce him into giving you what you want. You kiss him as if you’re hoping to distract him, granting him a sexpot moan when you lose the hard fought war of tongue and teeth. He thinks you think he won’t notice when you begin rutting against him, desperately seeking relief against the hard curve of his cock.

The devilish side of him wants to call you out on it but it feels a little too good, your cunt soaking through the thin cotton of his briefs.

“Someone’s needy.” He bows above you, shoulders rounded to crowd you deeper into the couch cushions, and purrs the words directly into your ear, punctuating them with sharp, unrelenting glides of his teeth.

You snap with far less malice than you intend and far more desperation than you want. “Shut up.”

“Watch it.” This time, it’s punctuated by a sharp slap against your clit. You jolt beneath him, a long drawn out whine his reward. “Don’t you want me to let you come, baby?”

“Not if you’re going to be an asshole about it.” He’d probably believe you more if you weren’t breathless and still, perhaps subconsciously, grinding yourself up against him.

“I’m the asshole?” The way Jungkook says it makes you bristle. “You were the one making out with one of my friends.”

“I’m not your girlfriend!”

“So what? Doesn’t mean you’re allowed to do that.”

And that’s when it hits you like a ton of bricks. It crashes into your feeble rib cage, a fast ball meeting its mark with perfect precision. Your heart thumps pathetically before folding in on itself - a catcher’s mitt for his cruel words.

You don’t know what you’d expected. You know your relationship and all the things it isn’t.

(You still hadn’t asked where his latest playmate had disappeared off too - you’d been too busy with his head buried between your legs.)

So you try to ignore the tears that block your vision, how suddenly all you can taste is saltwater. The most you can do is squeeze your eyes shut, grinding your molars into a fine powder with the tension in your jaw. Now is not the time.

“Fuck you.”

He laughs, dismissive and amused. The Calvin Klein band now sits halfway down his thighs, his swollen head tapping experimentally on your equally swollen clit. He’s not even looking at you - far too interested in the way your essence coats his length.

“That’s what we’re doing, baby.”

Even when he speaks, he’s still staring down at the apex of your thighs, pressing the tip of his aching cock between your lips. You take him so well, your walls burning around the unrelenting, slow press of his hips. He’d fuck you every day if you’d let him. You’d actually tried it once, for a week, when your office had a round of layoffs and your stress was at an all-time high.

“God, you’re so fucking wet.” It’s praise he offers often, always far too pleased with the way you ruin your underwear. “Is this all for me?”

It’s hard to stay mad at him when he’s filling you up like this. Still, you try, holding hostage the sounds you know he likes to hear. You swallow them, biting down so hard on your bottom lip that it throbs.

He doesn’t like that very much - burying himself to the hilt in a single thrust to elicit some sort of response. “I asked you a question.”

You can’t deny him.

A moan bounces around in your mouth, forced out when he pulls out nearly all the way and snaps back in, balls smacking lewdly against your ass. He’s got your legs propped up over his shoulders, thighs spread wide as he watches your pussy stretch around his cock. You’re folded nearly in half and his palms span your hips - perfect for him to hold you in place and fuck into you at a relentless pace.

At this angle, his cock brushes the sensitive spot against your pelvic wall. It’d be too much on its own, but he knows this position well and grinds down against you every time he pistons in. The stimulation against your clit is otherworldly, bringing you right back to the edge like flipping a switch.

“What was that?”

“I-i-it’s all for you.” You’re stuttering either because he’s bouncing you on his dick so well or because you’re about to come. Maybe both. He likes that.

“That’s right.” He maintains a firm grip on your side with a single hand, the other reaching to palm roughly at your breast. You’re already straining against the delicate fabric of your bra - he hardly has to do anything but tweak and pinch your bud and you’re clawing at his own chest, manicured nails seeking to do the same to him.

You miss your mark once or twice - you’re having troubles keeping your attention focused on anything but the tension in your core - but when you do, you’re rewarded with a stutter of Jungkook’s hips.

“Do that again,” he pants, resuming his unrelenting pace.

You tweak his nipple sharply, soothing one then the other with a pass of your thumb. The sensation starts in his belly, an electroshock in his groin that has him growling, the sound reverberating out of his chest with great need. He shifts, reclining back on his muscular calves as he peers down at your blissed out face and pretty, messy cunt.

He’s desperate for release, your fluttering walls far too wet and warm around him. “You wanna come, sweetheart?” While he asks, he doesn’t need an answer - he’ll get you there anyway.

Subtly adjusting his position, he drags one of your legs to join the other, both now propped against his left shoulder. He keeps a commanding grip on your hip with that same hand; his right snakes between your legs, seeking out the pearl of pleasure that’s all of a sudden assaulted with far too much pressure (from his hand and your own clenching thighs and what feels like a million other things).

He can feel the tremors before they present themselves in your legs, the tightening in your pussy mimicking the way your hand fists over his heart. There’ll be angry red lines for days to come - a literal x marks the spot on his otherwise unblemished honey skin.

“Come on, baby,” he croons, encouraging as always as he thumbs your clit in gentle, repetitive motions and fucks into you so hard and deep you can hardly breathe.

Your face screws into an expression of euphoria, mouth rounding as the coil snaps and ecstasy surges through your veins. It’s like an explosion of colour - fireworks igniting you from the inside out - and you’re crying, the fourth orgasm of the night swallowing you whole. You’re squeezing him so tight it almost hurts.

It’s so utterly hot that he finds his own high effortlessly, your walls milking him for all he’s worth. He spills inside you - thank fucking god for IUDs - and fucks his cum deeper, riding out his release until he feels himself softening. He gently removes your legs from his shoulders, pressing a surprisingly chaste kiss to your ankle as he pulls out and settles beside you.

Even your little mewl of displeasure can’t deter him when he pushes two fingers past your swollen lips, gathering up the cum that’s spilling out and pushing it back in. At least he’s gentle, offering another kiss - this time to your hip bone.

“Stay the night?” He seldom asks. You always say no.

This time you don’t and he carries you to his bedroom, your face hidden against his neck. You’re left on his neatly made bed as he draws a bath - something he’s done a handful of times throughout the decade and a half friendship you’ve shared, knees pressed together and exhausted.

When he comes back and picks you up, you nearly miss what he says. It’s almost lost to the soothing scent of lavender and the sound of running water.

“Don’t do it again.”

You’re not sure what he means when he says that. You’re too afraid to ask so you say nothing. He doesn’t repeat himself either, instead leaving you on the edge of his tub with a fluffy white bathrobe and a kiss to your forehead.

Somehow, that’s even worse.

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youllneverknowrac · 4 years

Text

Oscar Diaz- Double Trouble

Idk, I honestly just wrote lol. This is what I came up with so enjoy! ❤️ PS:Probably has loads of more mistakes that usual since I didn’t go back and read over it.

“Are you hungry baby?” You ask your-too mature for her age- four year old daughter, the two of you laying out in the backyard on individual beach towels and in matching swimwear. Her kiddie pool a few feet away and being ignored.

“Yes I am.” Rosalie says and looks up from her picture book, using her arm to push up the sparkly blue sun glasses that previously covered her eyes,”Are you hungry mommy?”

“Starving.” You whine as you flip over to your back, your mini-me copying your actions as she tosses the book to the side,”But I don’t feel like cooking. Do you think daddy would go buy us something?”

“We can ask him.” She suggest as she crosses her hands behind her head to rest on them,”Or maybe I should ask him mommy, he always buys me McDonald’s when I ask.”

“Okay that’s good. You can ask him, but no McDonald’s. We can do better than that.”

“Hm what about Carl’s Jr.? You love their fries and I love their chicken stars.”

“I do love them...hm okay, Carl’s Jr it is.” You say as you sit up and stretch your arms out,”Let’s go find him.”

“Hopefully he doesn’t make us go with him.” Your daughter giggles as she stands to her feet and picks up her towel, you doing the same,”I want to watch Barbie Dream House and do not have time to sit in the drive thru while daddy plays his loud music.”

“I’m on the same boat as you.” You nod as the pair of you head inside to find Oscar sitting on the couch, his phone pressed to his ear.

“Daddy?” Your daughter whisper shouts as she throws the towel on to the couch before climbing in his lap and gabbing at his cheeks to shake his head lightly.

“One second baby.” He replies before quickly pressing a kiss to the top of her head and ushering her off.

“Ugh, please hurry. I have to talk to you, it’s super duper important.” She groans as she climbs off his lap,”Come on mommy let’s go get cleaned up so we can get in our pjs.” She says and grabs her towel once again before disappearing into your bedroom, probably so she could bathe in your bathroom instead of hers.

“Yeah please hurry.” You say quietly as you walk by him, Oscar reacting quickly and pulling you down for a quick kiss. His large hand grabbing at your ass before you pull back and offer him a playful wink,”Don’t you need to finish up that call?” You ask before spinning around on your feet and joining your daughter, the pillow he tries to toss at you hitting the wall.

“He’s always on that phone.” She complains when she takes notice of you entering the bathroom,”He’s probably talking to Tio Cesar like always.” She adds as she pours her bubbles to the water she had running in the tub. You quickly check the temperature as you smirk at her comments, she was definitely your kid.

“I’m sure he’ll be done soon.” You reassure her before you go to the shower and run your own water,”I’ll be right back, I’m gonna grab our clothes.”

“Okay mommy, the Moana dress please.” She smiles as she begins to take off her swimsuit.

“You got it.” You say before going to your closet first and grabbing one of Oscar’s shirts along with a pair of boy shorts. When you head out back to the hall you pick up the loan pillow and chuck it back before scurrying off to the over the top pink bedroom, Oscar’s laugh reaching your ears. You find her desired outfit and rejoin her just as she’s turning off the water and stepping in,”Found it.” You sing as you set out the clothes on the counter.

“Thanks mommy.” She says as she plays with a nearly scalped bratz doll.

“You’re welcome.” You reply and get nude before stepping into the shower, the hot water running over you as steam fills up behind the curtain. You’re standing there for a few minutes before Oscar comes busting through the door with a scream.

“Meanie.” Your daughter insults him after she let out a yelp of her own, a small laugh escaping your lips as you peek your head out.

“Was that necessary?”

“No it wasn’t.” She answers for him with a pout.

“I’m just having fun with my girls.” He laughs as he sits on the edge of the tub,”What are you making for dinner ma?” He asks aloud as he picks up the tall cup and fills it with the bath water, your daughter splashing her way over to him.

“Nuh uh.” She tells him with a shake of her head before letting Oscar pour the water over her dark curls,”Mommy’s not cooking today.” She gasps out dramatically as she pushes the now wet hair out of her face.

“What do you mean she’s not cooking? What is she talking about? You’re not cooking for us mami?” Oscar questions as he repeats the action with the cup.

“Well I didn’t feel like it. Being outside all day got me tired and I...” you speak as you rinse off the peach scented soap, your daughter cutting you off mid sentence.

“And she wants to watch Barbie with me in the bed. So we need you to go to Carl’s Jr. for us. Okay daddy? You can even get yourself something to eat if you want. Maybe pick up some candy from the store too, ya know what I like by now.”

“Yeah what she said.” You snort out

“What if I don’t want to? Did you ever think about that?” Oscar says in a teasing voice as he makes a face at Rosalie.

“Oh don’t worry then.” She sasses as she uses the bubbles to lather up her hair, you’ll just have to wash her hair properly in the morning,”Cause what you won’t do another man sure will.”

“Hmh, and don’t you forget it papi.” You laugh loudly as you turn the shower off and stick your hand out for your robe that hung nearby.

“You need to stop listening to you mom cause you’re turning into Y/N number two.” He says with a smirk as he stands up,”Y’all ain’t gonna get away with ganging up on me all the time, but I’m gonna go. Because I don’t like to see my baby’s hungry, I’ll be right...”

“Daddy?” Your daughter interrupts as she rinses out her hair quickly,”Don’t forget the ketchup.”

“Mija how about a thank you daddy, or a I love you daddy.” Oscar chuckles as he glances over at you as you step out, the smaller robe now in your hand,”When did y’all get robes and why don’t I have one? You know what it doesn’t matter, I’ll be back in twenty.”

“You know I love you silly, duh.” She giggles as she hops out of the tub and slides her robe on,”Kiss for the road.” She cheers as she holds her arms up to be picked up.

“See you can be my sweet little princess when you want.” Oscar grins as he wraps her in a bear hug and kisses her nose, your daughter returning the act of affection before being set down again.

“Sweet little princess don’t end up running the castle daddy.” She huffs as she saunters over and climbs on the counter so you could do her hair like you did every night.

“Sorry you have to deal with two of us.” You whisper as you grip the front of his shirt and look up at him with wide doe eyes,”Do I still get a kiss for the road?”

“I can give you more than that when I get back.” He says with a lick of his lips before pressing his mouth to yours.

You laugh as you push him away a few seconds later,”Drive safe and don’t forget our candy.” You remind him as you slam the bathroom door shut, Oscar grumbling about two spoiled brats as he heads out of the bedroom.

“Love you!” You and Rosalie call out loudly so he could hear.

“Love you more!” He shouts back just as the front door closes.

“Butter them up from time to time so they stick around.” You daughter giggles as you come up behind her and began to spray her hair with the leave in conditioner.

“Works like a charm.” You say and give her a quick high five before getting back to the task at hand. Her very wet and knotted hair.

“Daddy no, I want to sleep next to you.” Your daughter pouts as she hides under the blankets a while after Oscar returned and the three of you pigged out in the bed.

“I thought you were a big girl now.” Oscar says as he looks over at your sleepy state.

“I am, but mommy’s a big girl too and she sleeps with you still.” She protest as she pops her head out,”Please.”

“Well I’m not gonna start telling you no now, especially when you gave such a valid point.” He says in defeat as he climbs back in the bed, Rosalie snuggling into your back as you lay in the middle.

“I love you daddy. Thank you for the candy and chicken stars. You’re the best, you know that?” She mumbles, her little hand moving to rest on top of his that laid on your waist.

“I love you baby, I got you forever.” He says as your eyes flutter open, a small lazy smile forming on your face,”You too, now go back to sleep.” He whispers, your eyes slowly closing once again as you fall into peaceful darkness.

“See you in the morning daddy.” Rosalie yawns,”Can we make waffles and bacon? Well you, I’m still to little to reach the stove.” She reminds him

“Of course, did mommy want you to ask me anything else?” Oscar smirks knowingly

“Iced coffee in the morning please. And a chocolate milk for me.” She admits as she crawls over you so she could lay in between,”This is better.”

“You two are the worst together.” He teases as his arms lays over the two of y’all.

“But we love you the mostest. And you love us the mostest? That’s why you do it, right daddy?” She smiles as she rest her forehead against his.

“Of course mi corazon. I’ll always love you guys the ‘mostest.’”He chuckles as he stares into her eyes, getting even more wrapped around her tiny fingers, just like you already had him wrapped around yours. Oscar definitely couldn’t say no to his two favorite girls.

#spooky diaz #spooky x reader #netflix on my block #on my block imagines #netflix #freeridge #omb #on my block season 3 #one shot #omb season 3 #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz

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vanchlo · 4 years

Text

Birdy (Green Eyes / 2)

Read the first part, Green Eyes, here! :-)

Blurb Synopsis: After finally meeting the mysterious Mr. Styles you subbed for, you take a job at the same school, right across the hall from him. You’re unsure how much longer you can hide your feelings for him as you’ve grown to become best friends.

Genre: Teacher Harry, fluff, romance, angst, and a little sad.

Warnings: None

Word Count: Nearly 8k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Blackbird by The Beatles (click to listen)

Your desk was covered in Twix wrappers, multicolored gel pens, and empty cans of Coke. The new school year hadn’t even begun, and your desk already looked like a tornado had come by. Not to mention the fact that school started in almost three weeks and you hardly had any classroom books. You kept telling yourself it’s a high school English classroom, not a third-grade classroom. There’s a library down the hall for a reason, but the classroom barren of books drove you nuts. Your desk wasn’t shy to books though, as favorites of Harry had found a home on the dark wood.

Leaves of Grass.

Catcher in the Rye.

The Sun Also Rises.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Walking into your classroom on this sunny morning, the thought makes the smile on your face grow wider. Finally, you can say that you have your own classroom. The sight of the week-old books leaves the smile there on your lips. A laugh dances off of them at the sight of the Roald Dahl book, bringing you back to the memory when you found it there one morning.

You had asked Harry why he included it in the occasional stack of books he loaned to you. He said it’s required reading, because so few people know the movies are based on a book. You’re just wondering when he’s going to slip The Outsiders or Stuart Little under your door next.

The rows of ancient cream desks stare back at you, and you wonder just how you’re going to command a classroom in a few days. Well, seven of them to be exact. Then you try to remind yourself, for the twentieth time, that you’ve done this before. It won’t be so hard, then. Perhaps you’ll even have some past students, and that should help. Right?

You’ve barely gotten a few steps into your classroom, because of the thoughts muddling your mind. Sighing, you slip off your bag to leave on your chair. One that some days you don’t even sit in, because your legs are walking miles around your classroom, setting up. Thumbtacks are scattered across the expanse of your desk, reminding you of the unfinished walls. Before you can think about the posters sitting in the corner, a flash of pink catches your eye. Furrowing your brow, your eyes flit back to the flash of color.

It’s a hot pink Post-It note with messy handwriting in black ink.

Should I get us burgers or subs for the meeting we have today?

PS: You’re officially a teacher now with your own pad of Post-Its ;)

You’re sure that the insane happiness painting your face would look more at home on that of a teenager. Nonetheless, you can’t get rid of it, and you wouldn’t want to. This rings even more true when you see the note is stuck to a copy of Matilda. A warmth blossoms in your chest as you pick it up, running your thumb along the weathered edges. Ones you haven’t touched in ages, it seems. Within seconds you’re stepping into the hallway, thoughts knitting together in your mind. They’re from the love you have deep down for this story, a favorite book, and movie of yours as a child. The elation budding in your mind stops when you find his door closed, just as you had minutes ago. Unable to hide your disappointment, a pout tugs at your lips as you turn around.

“Ya gotta verdict already? Dat was quick,” a voice drawls from behind you. Your pout is a thing of the past, and a grin is making its way to replace it. Spinning around, your summery dress follows your twirling body.

A couple paces away, Harry stands at the top step of the staircase. His trademark brown leather backpack is slung over one shoulder. A black Fleetwood Mac t-shirt hugs his upper half, a black and blue flannel covering his arms. His old skool Vans echo down the hallway as he walks towards you.

“Well, I’ve already read it,” you inform him, observing his content smile turn into a confused one. “A couple of times actually. Once when I was 8, then some other times through the years.”

“Ah, so I got lucky and happened upon a lifetime favourite, have I?” he smirks, only a few steps away now.

“Mmmhmm,” you nod, your growing hair tickling your chin before you move it away. “When are you going to tell me what your favorite book is?”

“When ya finally guess it right,” he quips, stopping in front of you. A dimple falls into his left cheek as he shows off his sparkling teeth. Okay, sir, it is too early in the morning to be looking this attractive.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stop being so chipper when it’s only nine in the morning,” you tell him firmly, but it’s all for show. Poking his chest, your finger just hits pure muscle. Swoon.

“Then maybe wake up, already, birdy,” he chirps, the Raybans in his hair moving when his head goes from side to side. Chuckling, he grabs hold of your finger and tries to bite it, but you pull away in time. The mention of the recent pet name slows you down, but you haven’t gotten bitten yet. “Ya betta not fall asleep in today’s meetin’ like ya did last week.”

“I didn’t fall asleep, I was just resting my eyes!” you exclaim, throwing your hands into the air. His amused giggle greets your ears as he unclips his ring of keys from his blue jeans.

“Yes ya did, ya don’t getta lie t’ me, love,” he responds in between laughs, seemingly finding this more amusing than it really is.

“Oh, so John can fall asleep at meetings, but I can’t?” you ask, your voice raising with laughter and faux annoyance.

You watch Harry pluck his sunglasses from his head as you walk into his dark classroom. The streams of sunlight speckle desks and pictures donning his walls. As you flick on the light, the smell of oranges wafts over you again. The red bowl sat upon his desk filled with the citrus makes you feel at home, albeit his mere presence does that without fail.

“No, ya can’t. Sorry, love. I don’t make tha rules ‘round here.”

“Lame,” you sigh, paging through the book mindlessly as you fall into his new chair. He finally splurged and bought a comfy leather one that you steal every chance you can get.

“Want a Bit-O-Honey, honey?” Harry offers, pulling your eyes away from the familiar pictures. Grinning, you take the wrapped candy from his outstretched hand, trying to ignore the pet name. You find it hard to forget as you half look through the book and half watch him peel off his flannel. A sight, indeed.

“Wait, how’d you put this in my room if the door was locked? The other books you sneaked in when I stepped out,” you ask suddenly, working on the piece of hard candy in your mouth.

“I tol’ Marty tha janitor I forgot sumthin’ in yer room.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice even though his back is to you. A broad one at that. When he turns just the slightest to peek at you, you find crinkles around his glimmering eyes.

“Harry!” you scoff, your jaw falling to your chest, although not quite.

“Oh stop it, ya know ya like it.”

Groaning, you cross your arms over your chest in annoyance, but it doesn’t last very long.

“I don’t like all of these meetings,” you complain, throwing your head back onto the headrest. You flip to a page that makes you smile at the sight of cartoon Matilda.

“Get used t’ it, ‘s one o’ tha big differences between bein’ a sub an’ a salaried teacher. Shoulda just stayed a sub then,” he jokes, driving you to pick up a Bit-O-Honey and throw it at his head. Turning away from the things he’s unloading from his backpack, he whines. “Heeey! Watch dat arm o’ yers, ‘s a scary one. Maybe ya should be teachin’ gym class instead.”

“Sports are ew,” you reply, ducking when he throws it back at you. “Harry Styles, you stop it!” you manage in between giggles, finally closing the book.

“Oh ya, and what’re ya gonna do ‘bout it in t’ose heels, huh?” he teases, his hands leaving the pockets of his oversized backpack. “Ya gonna fly over t’ me, li’l birdy?”

Huffing, you set down the book on his neat desk. Placing his hands on his hips, he turns to you and sticks out his tongue.

“Oh, that’s it! You’re going to get it!” you threaten, standing from the chair as his laughter fills the room.

“‘m soooo scared, boohoo,” he teases with a fake sob, his fists mimicking wiping tears from his cheeks. Snickering, he returns to his backpack. “Go hang up yer posters in yer room and leave me be fer once.”

“You’re no fun,” you proclaim with a final whimper. Grabbing the book, you come up from behind him, softly hitting him with it on the shoulder.

“I warned you,” he retorts. Before you know it, he gently grabs your wrist and pulls you over to stand in front of him.

“Warned me about what?” you jest, a giggle wedging its way into your sentence as you drop the book onto a desk. You know that you’re getting on his nerves now. It’s the only time you’ve heard his teacher voice come out, but hey, you’re not complaining.

His thick eyebrows above those eyes raise, wrinkling his forehead tan from your days at the beach the last few months. Harry pushing you off a rope swing into the water, him bitching about doing all of the paddling during your canoe trip, not so accidentally drenching your back with water from his paddle, and head dunking competitions while swimming. The tan looks far better on him, you think, as you admire the sun-kissed freckles peppering his face.

“I told ya one time dat yer good at pushin’ me buttons, and here ya are doin’ it. I know I shoulda neva told ya dat,” he mutters, the curls atop his head dancing as his head rocks back and forth. The nervous laughter bubbling inside of you finds its escape, and you know that you’ve done it now. “But I guess ya jus’ don’t listen, do ya, bird?”

You can’t stop yourself, and there you are poking his dimple with your finger. This time, you squeal when it finds its way between his nibbling teeth. His name leaves your lips in a near shout which only grows worse as his fingers dance along your ribs.

“Stop, stop!” you cry out, but with no avail. His other arm comes around your middle to trap you with your back against a desk, despite your squirming. His other fingers dig into your sides before finding the soft flesh of your tummy.

“Stop bloody screamin’, yer gonna make e’rybody think ‘m murderin’ ya or sumthin’,” he titters. You almost give in at the sight of his crinkly eyes and the smile stretching across his face.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Then I might jus’ hafta find a way t’ shut ya up, my li’l bird,” he coos from above you, a brunette brow raising.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really,” he hums, the tips of his fingers ghosting over your side now.

His bubblegum lips relax, falling into a knowing smirk. The laughs disappear from the both of you as his fingers still, resting on your side. The seconds tick by as your heart hammers in your chest, because his face is closer than it was a second ago. You gulp, suddenly finding the gold flecks in his eyes you didn’t know were there. Or the smattering of tiny freckles along his nose. That all becomes a thought of the past when his lips become the only thing you can think about as they near you. “Shall I?” Harry says in a breathy whisper, and you’re nodding even before his last syllable hits the air.

Your skin feels hot and prickly all over as your eyes fall closed, waiting for what happens next. The very thing you’ve dreamed of since that day you dropped the books in front of him. When he took off his shirt at the beach, revealing his toned chest covered in black tattoos. The charisma and kindness he carried at your very first meeting after you were hired, the beginning of you two being joined at the hip.

His lips are soft when he presses them against yours, and warm. He surrounds your lips with his slowly, as excitement rushes through you. A woodsy smell engulfs you when your nose brushes against his prickly cheek. His lips feel like velvet against yours with the slightest taste of Carmex chapstick. You’re sure he can feel the smile hiding on yours as his top lip fits between yours like a puzzle piece. His thin beard you’ve never seen him without tickles at your skin as your lips mold together. You can still feel the tingle on your lips after he’s pulled away. As well as the one that spreads across your body when those green eyes look into yours.

“See, I was right. It did get you t’ shuddup,” he mumbles, the blissed-out smirk on his face covering every inch of his skin. You’ve seen his nervous smiles and everything in between, but you’re certain you’ve never seen that smile before. Not that your face is any better, because right now it’s a competition between whose smile is bigger. It might just be a tie, and you wish there could be a tie-breaker.

“You should do that more often,” you smile, an uneasy laugh bringing an end to your risky words.

“I think ‘d be happy with dat.”

You try to tell yourself you’re glad his hands didn’t stray to your face, because he would’ve felt the heat of your tomato likened cheeks. There’s no use, because you want them there, but on your sides, as they are is better than nothing. It fills your stomach with multitudes of butterflies just to have your hands on each other.

His hands draw shapes into your back when you wrap him in a hug. The fresh smell of his citrus body wash fills your nose, your skin touching the fabric of his shirt.

“Ya gonna get all soft on me now, are ya?” he whispers above you, his cheek against the side of your head.

“Mmmhmm,” is all you can muster as you find yourself dragging the tips of your fingers along his side.

Raising your head to peek up at him, his eyes drop to you. “Good, I like ya dat way,” he murmurs, running his thumb along the roundness of your cheek. His tongue peeks out of his lips, held between his teeth. “Verdict?” he almost laughs, causing the butterflies inside of you to stir.

“I don’t know. I think I might need um, another sample,” you smirk, watching a corner of his mouth meet his cheek.

“Tha’s fair,” he agrees before dipping to plant another kiss to your lips. His lips are even more decadent a second time, and you quickly realize how addicting this could become. You realize it’s the only addiction you’d be okay with having as the tip of his nose caresses your cheek.

Your lips part with a soft smack, much too soon for your liking. “We should prolly get back t’ work,” Harry snickers, his breath against your face sweet from the caramel candy.

“Yeah,” you agree aloud, much to your dismay. “I’d give it an A, by the way.”

“Hmmm,” he thinks aloud, quirking his eyebrows in response.

“A long overdue one.”

“‘d say yer right there,” he echos, pinching your cheek between his fingers. Giggling, you pull away as your laughs mix with each other’s.

“Hey, Harry!” a voice calls, sounding far away.

You separate quickly, like two magnets repelling each other. It saddens you, but when a colleague steps into Harry’s classroom a moment later, you’re met with relief as you grab the book off the desk.

“Hi, Trent. Ya ready t’ see who falls asleep first in t’day’s meetin’?” he quips, stuffing his hands in his pockets, nonchalantly leaning against a desk.

“My money’s on John, for sure,” Trent jokes, pressing his red glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Oh hi, Y/N,” he says, greeting you. You wave with a small ‘hi’ as you stand at the edge of the classroom near the windows uneasily.

“I dunno, my money feels pretty good on her,” Harry teases, pointing a finger at you before winking.

“Whatever. I better go take my nap now that you reminded me,” you return, sauntering out of the room and into the hall.

Out of his presence, the butterflies take flight inside of you. A warmth fills your body all over when you reach the safety of your classroom. Closing the door, you fall against it with happiness jumping from the smile on your lips. Squealing with your hands held to your chest, you soon sigh at the thought of his lips. His lips soon being on yours again, and again, and again.

Exhaling, you step down from the chair and stare at your hard work. Nodding in approval, you straighten the skirt of your patterned mustard dress. The happy face of Anne Frank looks back at you from the enlarged poster of her autobiography. Dragging your feet over to your desk, you plop onto your brown spinny chair, ignoring your heels forgotten on the floor. You bask in the new ambiance of your classroom, feeling the pleasure from the new posters donning your walls.

The Diary of Anne Frank.

Ross from F.R.I.E.N.D.S saying ‘you’re means y-o-u a-r-e.’

The quote, ‘Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not’ - Tyrion Lannister.

A funny grammar poster that makes you feel like an even bigger English nerd.

Frowning, the last poster in the corner sits there begging to be shown off, but you need help with it. After the events of earlier, you’re nervous to approach Harry. A sweet kind of nervousness, but nonetheless it’s there. Huffing, you grab the edge of the desk to pull you closer. Pressing play, the Queen song crawls from your laptop’s speakers, slowly filling the room. Clicking through your open windows, you finally find the unit plan you’ve been working on.

Voices carry down the hallway outside your door, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. Squinting, as if it will help your hearing, you then tilt your head to look out your half-opened door. Jackson from the nearby history wing walks by, laughing at something somebody said.

“Dis betta not be a bloody heavy desk, Jack,” somebody responds, amusement laced in their voice.

“Hey, I know that voice,” you softly whisper to yourself, your lips curling at its sound.

“You’re the one who agreed to help me! You can’t get out of helping me bring it in now, Harry!”

You hear the melodic sound of his laugh, perhaps one of your favorite sounds. The butterflies return when you let yourself think about getting to hear it as much as you’d like in these walls. 5 days a week for 9 months out of the year- well, something like that.

A couple seconds later, Harry zooms past your door saying, “Get t’ work!” in a mocking deep voice, winking.

“You!” you shout back, giggling to yourself with hot cheeks. You attempt to return your attention to the document open on your screen. It’s difficult, you find, because the thing consuming your mind is how nice Harry’s bum looked in those jeans.

Chatter pecks at your ears as you swivel in your chair, watching your new colleagues converse around the table. Your new boss laughs with somebody standing at the room’s front by the projector screen. Reaching forward, you pluck another carrot from your plate to nibble on nervously. Once again, you pull out your phone to busy yourself, only making you feel guiltier for not mingling. You’ve already said at least a ‘hi’ to everyone in this room already, and you have the rest of your career to get to know them, you tell yourself. Bouncing your leg, your eyes drift to the clock on the wall. Impatience spreads like a hot wave throughout your limbs, bringing your eyes yet again to the back door to the conference room. When is he going to get here, you guess fervently, counting down the minutes until the meeting starts.

A thud! surprises you when a white paper bag lands on the table in front of you.

“Hmm, I didn’t know ya were a jumpa,” a voice snickers, its owner soon coming into view in front of you. Harry. “Why ya lookin’ like a lost puppy, bird?” he coos, pushing out his bottom lip as he pulls out the chair to your right.

“I’m not,” you retort, continuing to scroll through Instagram, stopping when you see a picture of a Goldendoodle puppy.

“Yes, ya do. What, were ya wonderin’ what’d ya do if I didn’t show? Can’t have ya missin’ yer security blanket now,” he teases, poking you in the ribs with a glint in his eye.

“Stop,” you giggle, placing your phone face down on the table. Sitting up and eyeing the food, you pinch his thigh for good measure.

“Hey, watch those fingas, missy. They keep gettin’ ya into trouble lately,” he warns, tsking as his head goes from side to side. Opening the bag, he pulls out a familiar wrapped burger to hand to you.

“Thank you, I’ll pay you back.”

“Shhhh, ya can pay next time. Sound good?” Harry hums, flitting his eyes to you with an eyebrow raise.

You give him his answer with a nod before taking a bite of the cheeseburger. Your boss starts to tell everybody to find a seat so they can begin the meeting. Out of the corner of your eye, Harry sets a packet of fries in front of you. Shooting him a smile, he returns it as he feeds one between his happy lips. Chairs squeak and whine as they’re moved and sat in around the long table. Somebody nudges your foot, and to no surprise, you find it’s Harry. He holds out a covered paper cup, a red straw poking from the top. A ‘thank you’ is held in your smile and he just nods, slipping off his sunglasses to set down. Your attention is stolen by his fingers raking through his curls to put them back in place.

A thought pops into your head unwarranted, and consumes your attention as the principal speaks. I wonder if this means now I get to run my fingers through those curls, you ponder as you grab a fry. At the most inconvenient time possible, your mind starts to dig around. Doubts soon fill your thoughts, along with questions about what this will be with him. You try to push them away and lock them in a box, but they’ve done their job. Any smile left on your lips is gone now, and you continue to eat your burger quietly.

“Ya eat jus’ like a bird with t’ose li’l bites,” Harry whispers, scooting closer to the table to retrieve the packets of ketchup from the bag.

Turning to look at him, he holds a glowing smile in his eyes for you. His shoe knocks into yours and he leaves it sitting on top of yours. Take that, stupid brain, you announce to your thoughts as you affectionately bump your knee against Harry’s.

Reverting your thoughts to the towering figure speaking at the front of the room, a smile buds on your lips at the feeling of Harry rubbing his knee against yours.

Rubbing your hands across your eyes, you feel the breath leave you in a whoosh. Tapping the board with your electronic marker that’s a pen, highlighter, and an eraser in one, you drag it in zig zags. The scribbles on the board disappear in a flash. Suddenly, it falls from your hands when you feel a pair of arms surround your waist.

“Hiya, bird,” a voice says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Their warm breath tickles the nape of your neck, and so does the collar of their shirt. Spinning around, you find Harry standing there, a pout forming on his face. The adorable Starry Night tie you bought for him hangs loosely over his cornflower blue button-down. “What, why won’t ya lemme hug you?”

“Harry, anybody could walk in,” you insist, prying his arms from your waist. Bending down, you pick up the pen and place it back in its holder with a click.

“All tha students are gone by now, babe. ‘s half past 3, and any dat are around are at practice. Tha last place they’d wanna be ‘s back t’ a classroom afta their first day o’ school,” he murmurs, wedging his way back into your good graces as he pulls you back into his arms. “I wanted t’ see how me birdy’s first day went. Sooooo, wha’s tha verdict?”

“It was good. A little overwhelming, though,” you hum in return, letting your head fall backward to fit against his cheek.

“It ‘s fer e’rybody, love, so don’t worry. It’ll get betta, jus’ hang in there. Tha first month ‘s nothin’, that’s tha honeymoon period befo’ e’rythin’ goes wild.” His lips brush against your cheek with every word, the feeling of his ticklish stubble something you’re not yet used to.

“Harry!” you scoff, turning your head to find his hairy cheeks creased with a devilish smile behind you.

“‘m kiddin’, well not really, but hey, ya got me t’ help ya through it all. Don’t fret, love,” he tries to assure you, brushing the back of his fingers along your side. “What was yer favourite part o’ yer day, hmm?”

“Seeing some familiar students from when I used to sub. It was nice to catch up with them and hear stories,” you reveal, looking down as you cover his hands settled on your tummy with your own.

“Mmm, that’s good. Familiar faces are always nice,” Harry mumbles, the point of his nose dragging along the expanse of your cheek. “Did I tell ya yet ya look really pretty in yer new dress?”

“Yes, you did. About three times, but thank you again.”

“Welcome, bird. I hope no teenage boys are crushin’ on ya now,” he jests, planting a loud kiss on your temple. The remnants of his minty piece of gum cover your face in a silent cloud as he laughs at his own joke.

“Yuck! Oh and like there aren’t dozens of girls fawning over you in your classes?” you chuckle, bringing a whine to his lips when you squirm in his arms. “Put that lip away.”

“Or what? Hmm, what’re ya gonna do ‘bout it? Ya can kiss it away like all tha girls in me classes wanna do, if ya want,” Harry smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at you once you turn around. Lifting a hand from his arm, it lifts to brush back the brown ringlets falling onto his forehead.

“You’re gross sometimes. It makes me wonder how I can kiss that potty mouth.”

“Well ya do, and ya sure seem t’ like it,” he winks, dramatically licking his lips with a loud slurp.

“Stop!” you exclaim, collapsing into laughter, your head returning to his chest. His hands clasp over your back, his thumb brushing your skin through the jade dress you wear. You’re grateful for your face hidden away in his chest for when you feel his lips pepper kisses from your temple to your neck. He leaves your skin tingling from his magical touch, and his growing curls leave a trail down your neck.

“I think dis year’s gonna be a good one,” he coos against your ear, letting his smooth nose brush against its lobe. “I got tha reason right here.”

“Can we do this though?” The words jump from your lips without a chance to catch them and shove them back in their safety.

“Do what, love? Kiss? ‘Course, ya jus’ take yer lips and my lips, and put ‘em togetha’ like dis,” he wisecracks, lifting your head to show you the humor painting his face. Puckering his flushed lips, he closes the space between you to press a peck to your waiting lips. Pulling away, he quirks an eyebrow at you in silent questioning.

“That’s not what I meant, Harry,” you continue, your words falling short of the thoughts buzzing around in your skull.

“Then what’d ya mean?”

“Can we, I don’t know . . ,” you begin, but you lose your footing. Leaving his arms regrettably, you almost lose your footing quite literally when he tries to hold on. A sound leaves his lips at your departure, but you try to ignore it. That’s easier said than done, you realize as you fight with yourself, wondering if you should say that word or not. “Date . . as colleagues?”

They they are, free to the wind. It feels like coming home and your heavy book bag leaving your shoulders, although this time it’s far less trivial. The similarity doesn’t ease your anxious mind as you stop in front of your desk, fingering at the note that greeted you this morning. A pink Post-It note smattered with his sometimes unreadable handwriting, resting on top of a box of novels he gifted to you for your classroom.

To my favorite teacher - I know you’ve been dreading this day for months, and looking forward to it, too. You’re going to do great. They’re going to love you. You’re not going to mess anything up. You got this, bird. Remember that. Take it easy on yourself. Remember, you have to take care of yourself, so then you can take care of them. You’ll learn from each other too. Just keep remembering pizza at the beach with me tonight to celebrate your first day.

Harry xoxooxoxoxo

“‘Course we can, as long as it doesn’t bleed into our work life. What d’ya mean?” Harry says, trying to inject lightheartedness into his words. You both can hear the failed effect they have, and they only make his words sound sadder.

“I don’t know, I don’t want to like, get in trouble, or something. I just started this job.”

“Oh,” is all he mumbles. Mumbled or not, you hear the finality in his one word. As well as all that it says with that single syllable.

Looking over your shoulder at him, you find the confirmation you needed knitting together his features. “Harry,” you say, turning the rest of your body to face him. He takes a step back, and now you know you’ve done it. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Then how’d ya mean it?” he retorts, coolness playing in his voice. He knows he’s done it, too. “Hmmm, bird? Ya only care ‘bout dat part o’ it - if we get caught and what people would think? Only wanna keep me a secret?” His words bite as he spits them into the air. They hit your face with a sting, but nothing compares to how he threw your nickname into the mud. The nickname you love, that happened all because of the first meal you shared together.

“Harry, don’t. You know that’s not what I meant- Y-you’re being ridiculous,” you press, stepping forward. It’s like one step forward and two steps back, because he continues to walk away from you. Quickly, your hands grow shaky as the feeling consumes the rest of your body.

“No, I know what ya meant. Or ‘s there mo’ ya want t’ say? Want t’ say dat ‘Oh, ‘s too risky, so maybe we shouldn’t do dis anymo’, even tho’ it makes us happy,’” Harry persists, his right hand lifting in question, before it falls with a slap to his thigh.

“We never even said what this was,” you try to say, but before you get any further, you know you’re just making it worse. You know that he’ll read into your words incorrectly and assume the worst, despite your true meaning. At the realization, your heart pounds harder in your chest. The look on his face like you just slapped him tells you all you need to know. “Harry, wait.”

“No, yer right. We neva said what dis was, but apparently ‘s nuthin’ worth labelin’ or takin’ risks fer,” he grumbles. His head falls with a spiteful smile, but when it lifts again something shatters in your chest. With wet eyes, he continues in a croaky voice, “Then why’d ya take tha job knowin’ I was mad ‘bout ya?”

Your lips wobble with his name dangling from them. When you try to walk over to him, you’re only two steps in when he holds a hand up. “No, don’t. ‘m glad ya told me early on. ‘m happy I didn’t already start fallin’ fer ya or anythin’. That’d be real shitty, wouldn’t it?” he wheezes, a strange smile tugging at his lips dealing failed sarcasm. Sniffling, a tear falls down his tanned skin and he brushes it away. With a shake of his head, he turns to walk out of the door. You know that you shouldn’t, but you let him, because you know you have to.

Collapsing at your desk, your head falls into your hands. Tears splash into your palms as your chest shakes, wondering just how you turned the best first day into the worst first day.

You know that a note won’t be there, but you continue to wish as your heels clack down the halls of lockers. You know that you’ll see his face no matter how hard you try to avoid him, and that it’ll hurt more than you thought it would. Although you prepared yourself, unlocking the door to your classroom and finding no notes from him hurts more than you suspected. The hurt only stings worse when you pass each other in the halls with your students trailing behind, eyes falling away instantly. The spark in the air is lost when he huffs, passing you on the way to the vending machine in the lounge, leaving as soon as he came. Although the hurt grew as the attacks came and went, nothing could prepare you for the absence of his notes that week. That was an eventuality you had dreaded thinking of since the day you found the first one, back in his classroom.

You tried at the very least, albeit an understatement. Notes dropped into his mailbox went unanswered, as well as texts and phone calls. Even the bag of Bit O Honeys failed at their messages of apology. A few times you thought about trudging into his classroom after the bell rang, and hashing it out. Each time you mustered just enough courage to do so, a staff meeting got in the way. Or, within 5 minutes of the bell, his door was locked and he was gone. Speaking of staff meetings, you suffered even worse at those. No longer was he your security blanket at your side, because he no longer saved you a seat. Slowly, the young and pretty visual arts teacher grew to get on your nerves as you watched her be a little too nice to him. He didn’t entertain her taunts and turn to you with a smirk to rub it in your face. No, he was a good guy, and you had to go and ruin it, or what was becoming of it.

He ignored you - at staff meetings, in the copy room, in the staff lounge, in the halls, when both of your classes were in the library - basically everywhere and anywhere. It was an understatement to say you suffered because of it. You had to buddy up with Jen, the poetry teacher. She took the brunt of your questions, whether technology-related or English related. You became fast friends, but unlike the easiness with Harry, you quickly felt you were a nuisance. That was something he never made you feel like, well, until now that is.

You made the mistake of getting your hopes up when you found a bag of Bit O Honeys in your mailbox one morning. That is until the white note on it told you in his writing to stop plugging his box with them. Instead, you tossed them on the counter in the staff lounge to share, never wanting to see those yellow and red wrappers again. Quickly, what you thought had become your dream job morphed into a nightmare. His face filled your thoughts day after day, and it especially distracted you when your mind chose the tear-stricken memory. It bled into your lectures and although it stung less when you saw him, without fail every day, it was messing with your mind. It didn’t help when you were beginning a unit on Romeo and Juliet and a student joked you could play Juliet and Mr. Styles could play Romeo, quite literally.

You had been staying after school every day to finish lesson plans, grade tests, reflect on teaching, and plan for the next day. The October chill that arrived this week only made you want to stay in your cozy classroom with the Autumn decorations you hung up. Soon, it would be Halloween and costumes would fill the halls. The thought pours memories into your mind, but a particular one sours the enjoyment for you. The memory of planning a matching costume with Harry. Jay and Daisy from The Great Gatbsy, like the English teacher nerds you are. Were.

Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you reach for your water bottle. A groan finds its way past your lips when you pick it up, only to find it's empty. Standing with it in your hands, you cross the room to your door. After a few steps into the hallway, your movements freeze at the sight of his open door. Biting back any hesitations, your hand shakes when it presses against the wood.

Something thrilling washes over you when you find his head bent over his desk. His left hand covered with varying rings props his head up as he marks the page with his favorite red pen. A Micron pen, but only you would know that. Pausing, he fiddles with the tan braces strapping his shoulders clad in a handsome white and gray checkered button-down. Words stick together inside of your mouth, and when you hear the click of your shoe, regret surges inside of you.

“I made a mistake,” you say, testing the waters, although you know they’re stormy. Clearing your throat, you hope the subsequent ones will come out louder and stronger, before he can stop you. Your galloping heart jumps when he lifts his head to look at you, a question painting his face. “I fucked up, and I could never say how sorry I am. I said the wrong things, and I didn’t mean them that way- that’s not the point . . . I miss you, Harry. You’re all I think about, even when I’m thinking of other things, or when I’m teaching. That’s how I know it’s bad, because even though it’s only been a month, it still hurts like it was yesterday,” your voice screeches to a halt. You take one step at a time as he watches you.

A curl tickles his bearded cheek, making you want to tuck it back into place, but you can’t. A crumb from a chip sits on his chin, making you want to brush it away, but you know you can’t. And neither can you whisk away the worry lines forming around his eyes.

“I need you, not just to help me figure out how to use a projector or what a conjunction is again. But I need to tell you about the good parts of my day, and even the bad parts. Because even though we haven’t talked for like a month, my mind still goes to you when something good happens, or even bad. Even my students tease that we should be together, so that says something,” you try your hand at joking, but he turns his attention back to his desk. “Harry, please. I’m sorry,” you plead with him, tears catching the last of your words.

“Sorry doesn’t jus’ make it all go away, bird,” he returns cooly. His head lifts ever so slightly, only to fall. As if he changed his mind a few seconds into a decision.

“I know, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll buy you Bit-O-Honeys for the rest of your life, grade your papers, check your mailbox, or buy the next meals for a month. Anything.” The apologies run off of your lips, but he doesn’t say anything, nor do his actions. An exhale whooshes over your pursed lips as your nails dig into your clenched palms. Defeat covers your body as you turn to leave.

“None o’ dat takes away what ya said,” he announces painfully, the new fabric of his chair squeaking with his movements.

“I know,” you say automatically, a battle waging its way inside of you of whether to look at him. As if his words laced with hurt didn’t already leave you breathless. “So tell me what I have to do.”

“I can’t do dat, bird. Ya should know,” he sighs, clucking his tongue in disbelief.

Your eyes fall shut and your jaw clenches in anger, but the sweet smell of oranges brings you back to the moment. “I’m sorry that I made it seem like it wasn’t worth being with you, because it was, and I realized that even more after . . what happened. I’m sorry that it didn’t seem like I was dedicated enough, but I want to be a- I want to show you that I can be, and I want to be that to you. I’m sorry that I care too much about what other people think, because I only care what you think. It’s ripped me apart lately knowing that you hate me, and how you can’t even be around me, and . . ,” your string of words breaks off, stolen away by your onset of tears. They rumble through your chest with tremors, and the embarrassment brings your hands to your face streaked with them.

The howling of the wind hugs the windows, masking any other sounds. If there were, you can’t hear them, but you do feel something. His fingers wrapping around yours, pulling your hands away from your face.

“Ya gonna stop now befo’ ya make me cry too?” he hums, one corner of his lips turned up ever so slightly. With raised eyebrows, they pose the question to you. Nodding fast with hiccups stealing your words, he kneads your hands between his own. “Are ya gonna shuddup or am I gonna hafta make you?” Harry softly laughs.

“You’re going to have to make me,” you return, stumbling over your sobbed words.

“Good, was hopin’ ya’d say dat.”

Smirking playfully, he steps forward to cup your face in his hands. The callused tips of his fingers make quick work of the tears staining your face, as well as his lips. “Don’t cry, and don’t ever say dat I hate you,” he coos in between pecks to your wet skin singing with his kisses. “Don’t want me pretty birdy t’ cry no mo’.”

“Your bird doesn’t want to cry and be sad, and miss you anymore,” you whimper, trying to hold it all in, but it comes pouring out.

“Baby bird,” he pouts sadly, his rose lips round and extended. His brow presses into a sad line as the same emotion carries his words. “Lemme make it all betta.”

Nodding, you hiccup again as you cover his hands with yours. His subsequent smile warms your insides cold and aching from the long days without him. His lips bring a respite when they touch yours, ending the harsh drought. Kissing him back, you revel in the feeling of his unkempt scratchy beard against your face. Just one more thing you missed. Severing the kiss, you mumble an ‘I’m sorry’ against his chapped lips.

“Shhh, ‘s okay, love. I know ya are,” he tells you before bringing his lips back against yours. They move together slowly, welcoming the return of the other.

Your mouth falls to envelope his bottom lip in between yours, his facial hair feathery against your mouth. Hungrily, you kiss him and savor his familiar taste and smell. Fingers drifting to his hair, they return home to his buttery curls. His lips pull away only to plant another kiss against your mouth. Too soon, he breaks the kiss with a breathy laugh against your lips.

“My goodness, lemme breathe, love.”

“Sorry . . I missed you.”

“Ya sure did, bird. Think I missed ya a li’l more, though,” Harry chuckles as your hands fall from his locks. His thumb steals the last hint of a tear from under your eye. The amusement creasing his features disappears swiftly. “‘m sorry too, y’know. I overreacted, and I shouldn’t have put meself over yer job. It wasn’t fair o’ me t’ do dat. D’ya think I can have those Bit-O-Honeys back, or were ya serious ‘bout buyin’ me a lifetime supply?”

Groaning, you playfully shove at his chest, only to have him wrap you up in his arms. “I guess I was serious.”

“Hmm, ya don’t sound too serious ‘bout it, bird. But that’s okay, I got all tha honey I need right here,” he replies, planting a kiss atop your head nuzzled into his neck, swaying you back and forth. Nodding, you finally let yourself relax for the first time in weeks at the greeting of his sweet smell. One that feels like home to you. “Wait, yer students said we should be togetha? That’s funny, cuz so did mine.”

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mlinkwell · 5 years

Text

Model Student (part 1)

Pairing: Johnny Suh x OC/Reader (fem)

Genre: uni!au/bf!au // lil angst/lil fluff (smut in future parts)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: strong language, mentions of sex, descriptions of nudity/nude images. This is a work of fiction. Please do not send nude photographs irl. Can go hella wrong.

AN: I just started my senior year of college (holy fuck)! To celebrate, here is *the* Johnny fic that I’ve been hinting at for so long. It’s my first original story on this blog. I’m so excited to continue this angsty ass tale very soon. PS, pairing says OC/Reader because while the protagonist has a name and description, parts from her pov are written in second person.

You moved from your shower to your bedroom, goosebumps appearing on your skin as you move from the small, steam-filled space to your air conditioned bedroom. You shivered ready to pull on some clothes and get in bed.

You were over the whole school thing before you even got off campus. You knew that you needed to get organized now or you would have a rough month - and probably semester - ahead. However, you wanted nothing more than to call your boyfriend over and lay with him for the first time in weeks. You had let school get in the way of your relationship, and you missed Johnny desperately.

After getting somewhat accustomed to the chill of your room, you took the towel off and used in to squeeze some water from your hair. You moved over to where your phone was charging on your nightstand. You sat on the edge of your bed, careful not to let droplets from your hair soak your sheets. The screen of your phone showed a missed call from Johnny. He had called you during your shower and sent you a text soon after.

Johnny (3:24): Just wanted to chat for a sec. I miss you babe

Johnny (3:24): Busy today?

You smiled to yourself, the reassurance that he missed you too warming your heart. Your smile turned to a sly smirk as you looked at your phone. You couldn’t deny how many ways you missed him, and you were hoping you could get him feeling the same way.

You moved so that your knees were resting on your mattress, wet hair pulled over your shoulders. You took the towel and positioned it over you just so: one hand holding it over the middle of your chest with the rest of it gathered between your thighs. The sides of your breasts, stomach, and waist were still visible, the towel only cover enough to leave him wanting all of you. With your free hand, you held your phone up and away from you, getting as much of your body in the frame as you could. You excluded the top of your face from the image, only allowing him to see the way you bit your lower lip along with the way water dripped down your bare body from your hair. You snapped the picture and sent it to Johnny.

Yena (3:41): Sorry I missed your call. Just got out of the shower.

Yena (3:41): [image]

Yena (3:42): Can we be busy together tonight? I miss you, too

With that, you moved off your bed and to your closet for something to wear. If Johnny wanted to see more, it would have to be in person. You pulled on some underwear and grabbed one of Johnny’s shirts that you’d stolen over a year ago. Before you’d even finished pulling it over your head, you heard your phone ring.

———————————————————————————————————–

Johnny walked up the stairs toward the door, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. His last professor for the day professor dropping a completely new schedule out of the blue had sent the entire class into panic. Everyone, including Johnny, would have to rework whatever plan they already had for the semester around Dr. Young’s new outline. The walk from his final class to his house seemed miles longer than normal, every step spent trying to figure out when he would even have the time to sit down and accommodate his routine for this new course outline. He was far too exhausted for it to only be the afternoon, but uptight professors had taken a toll on him these past few weeks. He was stressed to say the least.

Not to mention that he’d barely had the time to see the one person he knew would help him keep his head on straight during all the confusion. Johnny already felt too wrapped up in the problem to step back and solve it. Head down and phone in hand, he began typing out a - probably desperate sounding - message as he pulled the front door open.

“Johnny!” His name was shouted as soon as he walked through the door. He looked up to see Yuta sprawled out on a couch in the living room. Yuta sat up as his friend and fraternity brother walked through the door. From Johnny’s posture and the look on his face, Yuta could tell something was wrong.

“Hey, Yuta,” Johnny replied a little less enthusiastically than usual and forced a smile. Yuta watched as Johnny tossed his backpack down and slump into a recliner. He looked at him for a few seconds longer before standing and hitting Johnny’s knee as he passed.

“Are you done for the day?” Yuta asked.

“Yeah,” Johnny breathed out.

“Come eat with me,” Yuta said. “We just got pizza. My treat.”

“Who is we?” Johnny asked as he followed along. He was in a bad mood, but not bad enough to pass up free food.

“Mark, Doyoung, whoever else wanders in before it’s gone,” Yuta explained as he led the way to the kitchen.

“Give me one sec,” Johnny called to Yuta as he moved towards the stairs. “I’m gonna put my stuff away.”

“Hurry back!” Yuta called back.

Johnny moved up the stairs and to his room. He carefully took the camera bag in his hand and set in on his desk before less gracefully dumping his backpack on the floor. He took his phone out of his back pocket, looking over the message he began typing out before Yuta’s pizza invite. He changed the wording of his message, however he quickly changed his mind and retyped the old message. He went back and forth between drafts. After landing on his original message again, he decided to delete it and call you instead.

He kept the phone tight in his hand, stress level raising lightly when he was sent to your voicemail. He was thinking of what to say when a loud knock on his door startled him, causing him to promptly hang up.

“Hey!” Yuta said through the door. “Food’s ready. How long does it take to put away your things?”

“I’ll be right there,” Johnny groaned. He shoved his phone back into his pocket as he bound down the stairs to the kitchen. As he made his way in, he found Mark and Doyoung already sitting on the table with a plate of pizza in front of each of them. Yuta was at the counter, loading up a plate for himself. Johnny followed Yuta’s lead, grabbing a few slices of his own before turning to the fridge for a bottle of water. Before he could turn around, Yuta was taking the water out of his hand and replacing it with a beer.

“Yah!” Johnny exclaimed as Yuta closed the fridge and pushed Johnny towards the table.

“You’re done for the day, aren’t you?” Yuta asked with a smirk.

“Just because I’m done with class doesn’t mean I’m done entirely,” Johnny clarified.

“We both know one beer isn’t going to get you too drunk to do your homework,” Yuta rolled his eyes as he settled beside Mark, who had been gushing to Doyoung about some new song he’d discovered.

Johnny took his pizza and beer and sat next to Doyoung, although he barely chimed into the conversation. He slipped his phone from his pocket, deciding to follow up his phone call with a quick text since he hadn’t left you a voicemail.

Johnny (3:24): Just wanted to chat for a sec. I miss you babe

Johnny (3:24): Busy today?

Every few minutes, he found himself checking his phone to see if you had tried to call him back or answer his texts. Eventually, he accidentally tuned his brothers out entirely, aimless scrolling through social media in the hopes of seeing a notification from you as soon as it popped up. He only looked up to grab his pizza, taking a large bite before returning to flipping idly through his phone.

“Yah. Johnny.”

Johnny looked up from his phone, suddenly confused and embarrassed as all eyes were on him. He moved his gaze from Mark and Doyoung’s stares to the source of the voice. Yuta was sitting across from Johnny, his soft expression in contrast to the loud voice he’d used to get Johnny’s attention.

“What’s going on?” Yuta asked, voice now matching expression.

“Just eating,” Johnny replied. Yuta chuckled softly.

“You know what I mean,” he said. “You’ve seemed down ever since you walked in the door. What’s wrong?”

Johnny sighed, tossing his phone on the table as he tried to find the words to explain what all was troubling him.

“Is it Yena stuff?” Mark blurted out, making all eyes move to him instead. His face turned red as he said, “Sorry, hyung. I, I wasn’t thinking before I said that out loud.”

“Does Mark being an idiot make you feel better?” Doyoung spoke up. The smooth delivery of his comment made Johnny and Yuta burst into laughter and a tomato-red Mark put his head down on the table.

“I mean, he’s totally wrong,” Johnny laughed out lightly. The other three died down their laughter quickly, looking to their friend with concern written across their faces.

“Oh shit, for real?” Yuta asked.

“I mean, we’re okay I think,” Johnny explained, “We’re not fighting or anything, but I haven’t even seen her enough to argue with her lately.”

“What’s stopping you from seeing her?” Doyoung asked.

“School just hit me really hard the past couple weeks,” Johnny groaned out. “My professors can’t make up their minds on our schedules and now I can barely keep my shit straight from reorganizing my plans.”

“And you’re not getting that stress relief from Yena?” Yuta teased, attempting to lighten the mood with a suggestive eyebrow raise as he tossed back more of his beer.

“Yeah, to be honest,” Johnny muttered loud enough for the others to hear.

“Wait! What?” Mark jerked his head up.

“I mean,” Johnny stretched his words out with a cocked head and a playful shrug. “I haven’t even heard from her today, so we definitely haven’t had time for other things.”

“Woah, woah, hyung,” Mark said through awkward laughter. Beside him, Yuta was almost red with laughter.

“Hey,” Yuta laughed out, “if you’re used to fucking all the time, a few weeks feels like a damn lifetime of celibicy.”

“Yah!” Doyoung interjected. “Stop. Mark’s a baby.”

His teasing only made Mark more embarrassed and the older boys laugh even more. Johnny finished off his pizza and beer, and he moved from his seat to clean his plate in the sink. Yuta slipped his plate in for Johnny to wash, a small fee for free food. Johnny quickly scrubbed down the plates before placing them in the drying rack.

“So, Johnny-hyung,” Yuta turned to Johnny, who was now leaning against the counter with another beer in hand, “why don’t you just, you know, ask Yena if you can..?”

“Nah, you guys told me girls don’t like that,” Mark interjected. “I thought you couldn’t lead with wanting sex because they’ll think that’s all you want from them.”

“They’ve been together for two years!” Yuta quipped. “It’s a little different after you’re committed for this long. They’re both without right now. It’s not like Yena will care.”

“Yeah I don’t think she cares,” Doyoung said, an awkward twinge to his phone. His eyes wide and looking down at Johnny’s phone, the screen illuminated from its place on the table. “Hyung, you, um - you got a text.”

His statement and demeanor drew the attention of the other two at the table. Both sets of fresh eyes went wide, an “oh shit” coming from Yuta’s mouth and a red tinge appearing on Mark’s ears to match Doyoung’s cheeks. Yuta was the first to tear his eyes away, snapping out of whatever trance the boys were in and covering the phone with his hand. “That’s not for us to see.”

“What is it?” Johnny asked as he reached for his phone. Yuta moved his hand away, not daring to look back at the device now that Johnny had come closer. Johnny held the phone up, his notifications displayed despite the locked screen, images included. Taking up most of his screen was a string of messages from you.

Yena (3:41): Sorry I missed your call. Just got out of the shower.

Yena (3:41): [image]

Yena (3:42): Can we be busy together tonight? I miss you, too

In between the two text messages was a photo of you. One hand was holding the camera far enough away to get a full shot of your body, which was only covered by the towel your other hand was pressing to your chest. Wet hair and skin, you were obviously fresh out of the shower when you sent it, and you were obviously just as needy for Johnny as he was for you.

He would have been wholeheartedly focused on how absolutely breathtaking you were to him, if it weren’t for the fact that you’d taken away the breath of three of his closest friends. He looked back at Yuta, Doyoung, and Mark, all of whom averted their eyes. Johnny could feel a little rage building in him as it sunk in that this is what they’d all stared at far too long. Johnny looked back at his phone, reading your last message again. Can we be busy together tonight?

“You’re all really fucking lucky I don’t have the time to kill you,” Johnny told them, only half-joking, as he walked out of the kitchen and towards his room, calling you as he went.

———————————————————————————————————–

“Hello,” you answered your phone as casually as possible, worried that Johnny would practically hear the teasing smirk plastered on your face if you were too obvious about teasing him upfront.

“Hey, baby,” Johnny’s smooth voice filled your ear. “What, uh - what are you up to?”

“Just got dressed,” you said. You let that statement set it for adding, “I’ll probably start on some assignments in a bit.”

“Same,” Johnny replied, completely ignoring your first comment. “I’ve got some reworking to do to my assignment scheduling.”

“Again?” You asked, genuinely distracted from your little act.

“Again,” he confirmed. “Dr. Young. Again.”

“Well,” you began as you gathered your laptop and notebook and took them to your desk, “Could we work on it together? We don’t have to if you’re too busy, but I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too, baby girl,” Johnny said, the sincerity in his voice making your heart flutter. “Let me gather my stuff up and I’ll be over in a bit.”

“Be safe,” you told him as you opened your laptop, attempting to type with one hand.

“Always,” he assured you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#johnny suh #johnny seo #Johnny Fanfic #johnny smut #nct johnny #nct fanfic #nct fic rec #nct smut #nct #nct127 #nct127 fic

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remedyhunger · 5 years

Text

Blake’s first sunrise..

Blake tossed and turned in her sleep. Sweat dripped from her skin as memories of the events of this summer came back with a vengeance. Yang went missing, the fight with Atlas, the world literally hanging on their shoulders...and then she saw Adam again, the hatred and disgust on his scarred face...his sword striking down towards Yang.

“No!” She shouted in the dark. Her body jolting up from her bed. With heavy breaths, and tears welling up in her eyes. It was a dream she realized. No a nightmare. She’s been getting those a lot lately.

Wrapping her arms around herself Blake suddenly discovered her sleeping partner was not beside her. With panic the daughter of Poseidon turned around and grabbed the covers of the neatly made side only to pause to see a note.

Confused Blake picked up the scrap of paper and turned it over.

“Morning Tuna-Brain,

Don’t start panicking ok? I had to go do an errand....yeah I know at 5:00 am in the morning.

Just trust me ok?

Wise Girl

PS. I have a special treat for you after breakfast...I promise it’s not just fish lol. “

Blake smiled softly, her heart rate steadily going back to normal. She scooted close to the edge and got out of bed. She was up she might as well take a walk to calm herself. Right?

Blake tilted her head a bit to see her desk cleaned up with all the books she brought to camp neatly stacked and one particular book with a sticky note on top reading, “Really?”

She reddened at the same curvy handwriting she saw earlier.

Well at least it was Yang and not Ruby...

Blake sighed while putting on her dark jean shorts and a purple jacket over her camp tank-top. The daughter of Athena was going to tease her about that book for the rest of her life. Yang has a photographic memory she can see one object and it’s stuck in her big head for eternity. Same thing when she hears a conversation or gossip.

When she was finally done getting dressed. Blake patted her pockets to check for her pen and smiled once feeling the familiar bump. She made her way to the mirror to brush her hair and paused once she saw a sliver grey streak on her front bang. Her eyes darted down, her heart skipped a beat.

“Stop thinking of that Belladonna!” She growled, surprised by her own tone of voice.

Blake made her way to her cabin door and opened it wide only to spot a tall young woman on the stairs.

The woman was wearing dark jeans that were ripped, dark red doc martins, a black leather jacket with golden trimmings over a orange camp shirt and a red sash around her waist.

“Um...” Blake started.

The young woman turned around and Blake noticed her facial features. Her hair was fire red in a high ponytail with a undercut. She had bright green eyes with a tinge of blue in the middle...like a stormy sky ready to strike down lightning. Her lips were full and was giving her a smile, and last but not least the golden headpiece around her head.

All in all the woman looked like a goddess if Blake was being honest. Thankfully she remembered meeting her during the quest.

“Pyrrha right?” She asked

“Oh good you remembered me!” She smiled brightly and stood up. “I was hoping you would! Yang asked me to keep guard while she does her thing so...here I am heh.”

Pyrrha Nikos was awkward, really awkward. Like she was trying to think of anything to talk about. It was rather adorable...wait.

“I thought you left with the other Huntresses?”

Pyrrha sighed. “I stepped down...well I decided to stay at camp. I mean Yang is here, and I want to look for my sister.“ She was looking down at her boots her lips downward and brows together. “Don’t get me wrong I loved being a huntress but, I’m needed here. I feel it was my destiny to stay here.”

Blake blinked at the girl. She realized Pyrrha was only a teenager like the rest of them. In fact Yang told her she was only a year older than her by two months. She was just tall...which frankly Blake was jealous of. She might have to start wearing platforms to get to Pyrrha’s height.

“I-Is that a problem?” The daughter of Zeus asked with uncertainty.

“No!” Blake reassured. “Uh, would you like to walk with me? It’s still dark and..”

“Sure!”

Blake smiled weakly and began to walk next to the other demigod. It was silent but not as awkward as before. She got to see Camp Half-Blood in a more calmer environment. It was pretty to say the least. She sighed in relief, there were no monsters or any danger and for once she felt blessed by to gods for that.

They continued to walk until Blake noticed a huge gathering at cabin number seven, Apollo cabin. Her eyes then zoomed in and saw a familiar demigod yawning loudly while leaning against a short half naked young man with sandy blonde hair, a pair of teal runners shorts and his camp necklace. Sun Wukong was his name and the counselor for the cabin.

She felt upset all of a sudden, but Pyrrha put her hand on her shoulder and smiled down at her. “Don’t worry Blake, nothing would ever happen between those two. Besides that boy has nothing compare to you, miss hero.”

Blake chuckled at that and felt a little more confident as the two walked over to the cabin. She noticed Yang was wearing her cut-off jean shorts, a pair of purple flip flops and a black hoodie that looked too big for her. It looked familiar like the one Blake thought she lost.

Wait...

“That’s my hoodie.” Blake blurted out for everyone to stop chatting and to look up at her.

Yang who’s hair was loose with her grey streaked bang falling over her widened silverish purple eyes, blushed. She quickly pushed Sun to the ground and shot straight up from the bench she was sitting on.

“Blake! I-I thought you were sleeping..”

Blake raised a brow at Yang’s lame excuse. “I mean I was until I realized my sleeping partner was gone.”

Everyone gasped and turned to Yang. Ruby who was laying on Yang’s lap before was now on the ground with a mischievous look in her bright silver eyes.

“And why was Wise Girl in your cabin?” Sun asked with a smirk on his face. His blue eyes twinkling with mirth.

“None of your business Arrowhead, and don’t call her that. Only I get too.” Blake said with annoyance.

“Ok, Ok I’ll stop!” Sun said while putting his hands up in defeat. “Anyway it’s fifteen minutes before dad rises...want to join us. It’s kinda a requirement for his kids...and legacies.”

“Is that why you’re here Yang?” Pyrrha asked. Who Blake just realized was still next to her.

“Yeah...it was before I met Blake...when I was eleven I got punished for skipping on gramp’s sunrise all the time.” Yang began, her hand rubbing the back of her head as she smiled cutely. “So...basically he put the sun right in front of Athena cabin and...I got shunned for a month from my other siblings and Mom because of it..”

“His ego must be big.” Blake deadpanned at the thought of Apollo doing that with a manic grin on his face.

“Yeah Dad is...narcissistic.” Sun sweated a bit. “Ya get used to it.”

“At least he doesn’t put his children in a stupid hotel.” The daughter of Hades interjected as she stepped out of the shadows. Scaring half of the children of Apollo.

“You really have to stop doing that Ice Queen...” Sun sighed at the girl with dyed hair who was wearing a dark blue jacket and black pants.

Weiss merely rolled her eyes and sat down next to him and Yang with her knees up. Her eyes looking up at Blake with curiosity and embarrassment.

Ruby who got up and grabbed both Blake and and Pyrrha was restless. “When is grampa coming up? I want to get back to my cabin.”

“Five more minutes..” Sun stated.

Blake was now next to Yang and Pyrrha she was already tried of all this waiting. She leaned her head on Yang’s shoulder, the girl before her suddenly stilled by the action. Blake opened her eyes to look up at her.

“Sorry..is this ok?”

Yang’s voice cracked. “Y-Yeah it’s fine...I don’t mind.”

Blake felt warm at Yang’s voice, she felt safe. “I had a nightmare earlier..” she whispered softly.

“What about?”

“Everything that’s happened with Atlas and Adam...”

She felt Yang put an arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer. Pressing her lips against the crown of Blake’s head right above her grey streaked bang.

“I’ve had nightmares of him too...” Yang revealed to Blake. Her golden hair framing her face beautifully and that one strayed grey lock falling over her right eye.

“ALRIGHT TEN SECONDS!” Sun yelled as everyone began to countdown the sunrise.

Yang pulled away from Blake and reached behind her.

Blake watched curiously as she heard rustling from behind and zippers.

“Close your eyes Blake!” Yang whispered excitedly.

Blake looked at Yang with a raised brow.

“Trust me! Come on.”

Blake closed her eyes.

She suddenly smelled a fruity scent nearby. It wasn’t Yang’s typical strawberry shampoo. No it was...baked.

“Alright open your eyes Tuna-Brain!”

Her eyes opened and was met with a small purple cupcake and a lit candle. Blake could see the sun coming out behind Yang and her hair glowed with it, the streak of her front bang almost silver. It was the most beautiful picture Blake had ever witnessed.

“Happy Birthday! Blake...”

Blake blew out the candle and everyone cheered as the sun came up. Yang smiled before putting the cupcake away to hug her and kiss her on the cheek.

The daughter of Poseidon knew she was never going to forget this. Especially not because of Apollo.

#bumbleby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #rwby #percy jackson au #ruby rose #sun wukong #weiss schnee #pyrrah nikos

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goatsnails · 4 years

Text

Atom wipes the blood from his mouth and tears from his eyes as he shakily stood up and continued sweeping. Razz growls.

"That outta teach ya not to disobay me!!!" He snarls. Atom whimpers, he didn't know what he did wrong. But it didn't matter he must have done something. Razz snarls angrily and storms out. Atom shakes and cries. He wanted to get out of here, but he knew he stood no chance. He picks up a discarded newspaper and looks at it. On the front was a picture of a tall, black, handsome skeleton with an alluring, seductive smile and jet black moth wings. His name was Dusk. Everyone knew that. The brave anti hero with a tragic back story. And Dawn's frenemy.

Atom smiles softly. He sorta had a crush on him. He cuts out the article and pasts it on the wall of his hole in the wall that served as his room. Razz told him that Dusk would probably kill him before even thinking that he was worth something. Atom believed him but that didn't stop him from daydreaming. He looks out the window and sighs. He goes to lay down hoping to get some rest before Razz comes back.

The sun shone in Atom's face the next morning. He shifts softly. It went dark again as he felt something touch his lips. A kiss. Atom jolted awake, startled. But there was no one there. He looks around. He was in a strange room in a strange bed. On his lap was a tray with a steaming hot breakfast. His tummy grumbles softly. He looks around and starts eating as there was no one else there, he didn't want to waste food.

If this was one of Razz's tricks he would learn about it later. Beaten to the floor for being so gullible. Atom feels his tummy. Nothing seemed off about it. He didn't feel sick. Usually when he woke up in a bed he was pregnant. But there was nothing. He notices his arms and legs were bandaged. He feels his head. The scars were gone. He was even more confused. He notices his rags were gone, replaced with silk, velvet and fleece. He was clean as well. The dirt and grime gone.

Atom finishes and gets out of bed. He goes down stairs to see if he could find anyone. There was no one. Not a single person. Atom was alone.

"I-i must be going crazy!! R-razz!? S-slim!? Please tell me this is one of your jokes!!!" He trembles and shakes. But then something catches his eye. A note on the table. He picks it up and reads it.

'Dear Starlight, (That's you)

I know you must be confused and scared, and wondering who I am. But do not fret, I will reveal myself in due time but as for now take this time to explore your new home. There is no one here who will hurt you. The fridge and pantry are always full and I advise you eat. You may head outside if you wish I'm sure you'll enjoy it. The shelves are packed with good books, games, movies and puzzles, to pass the time if you get bored. Everything you need is here. If there's anything you want just write it down and leave it here.

Your's truly, <3.

Ps: you can leave if you wish but I don't advise you doing so.'

Atom felt reassured, he relaxed and looked around. It was a nice little house. Cozy and neat. There was only one door that lead out. He opens it and gasps.

Little song birds fluttered in the trees as mice and rabbits moves about in the flowers and grass. A family of deer rested in the shade of a large oak tree as squirrels chittered about. They all stop and look at him. Atom wanders out amazed by the beauty of it all. A little bird alighted in front of him and chirps curiously. Atom smiles and picks the little bird up. He pets it before letting it fly away.

"W-who? W-who could have done this for....me? It......couldn't have been Razz......." He sits down and basks in the sun. It was so peacefull and calm, he felt so safe, he was soon asleep again.

Atom woke up a few hours later, his tummy grumbles softly. He heads back inside. He was stunned to see a large meal already prepared for him. He looks around, hoping to catch a glimps of his kind host. He sighs in defeat and sits down to eat.

When he was done he washes his dishes and puts them away. He looks around for something else to clean. But there was nothing, no cleaning tools either. He sighs, his gaze drifts to the bookshelves. He picks up one of the books and sits down on the couch to read.

Atom spends the rest of the day reading and doing puzzles. He doesn't notice as the time flies by. He yawns as he finishes a maze. The puzzle book drops to the floor as he falls asleep.

Atom was again awoken with a kiss from his unknown host. He was back in bed. He sits up and looks around. Still no one there. He sighs and eats. He heads down stairs again. He pauses when he notices a new note on the counter along with a small box. He picks up the note and reads it.

'Dear Firefly (that's you again)

I've collected some of your old belongings and put them in this box. It took a little longer than expected, I had to break a few necks to get them, but I hope to hear back from you soon.

Your's truly, <3'

Atom gasps softly and opens the box. He pulls out his old plush lamb and blanky. He cries happily as he snuggles them.

"LAMBY!!! BLANKY!!! I never thought I'd see you again!!!" He smiles and pulls out the next item. His journal. He blushes as he looks through it.

"Boy, I hope they didn't go through this......" He sets it down. He pulls out the rest of his stuff. His favorite story book, his scarf and mittens. And even his scrap book full of drawings and cut outs of Dusk. Atom blushes more.

"Oh gosh." He giggles and slips it on the shelf. He smiles and puts his stuff away. He smiles and goes outside.

He starts gardening. Removing weeds and tending to the flowers and trees. The little animals help him plant seeds. Though not without eating a few. Atom giggles.

"Hey! Those are for the garden not your tummies!"

The animals chitter and chirp gleefully. Atom giggles and yawns. He goes under the tree for a nap. The animals gather around him. He rests his head on the buck's side. The doe licks him tenderly. He was soon asleep once more.

The days pass without incident. The days merge into weeks and time seemed non-exsistant. He soon got bored and lonely. He sighs. "....I wonder if they'll allow guests.....not that anyone would visit me...." He thinks and writes a note.

'Dear unknown,

Can I get guests? Please? I just want some one to talk to that's not the animals. Not that I don't appreciate what you've done for me. I thank you for everything. It's just lonely. It's okay if I can't. I'll just be happy with what I have. Thank you.

~Atom.'

He leaves it on the table and goes to bed. His dreams were calm and happy. Like they had been every night since he had been brought here.

He sleeps till he's woken with another unknown kiss the next morning. He wakes up again to a warm breakfast in bed. He eats and gets dressed and heads down stairs.

He pauses in surprise to see Dawn, the gaurdian of the multiverse, in his house.

"D-dawn!?" He scurries over. Dawn perks up.

"Oh hello. You must be Atom. Your friend has told me alot about you." She shakes his hand. Atom was stunned.

"W-when I asked for g-guests I didn't think it'd be the literal guardian of the multiverse." He laughs nervously.

Dawn giggles. "It's nice to meet you too." She smiles warmly.

Atom shakes his head. "Why don't you take a seat. I'll make some tea."

"That would be lovely thank you." She purrs. Atom smiles softly and goes to make tea.

He sits down with her and they talk for a bit. Atom especially interested in her stories about Dusk. Eventually Dawn had to leave. She promised to be back later. She gave him a letter.

"He told me to give this to you."

"Who?"

"Your lover."

"Oh! O-okay."

Dawn leaves. Atom looks at the letter. He opens it kinda hoping it would reveal the identity of his mystery lover. He opens it and pauses.

'Dear Starlight

I know you barely know me. You don't even know who I really am. But I promise you will know in due time. However in this letter I wish to ask if possibly you would grant me access to your body tonight as you sleep so that I may grant you with a child. A child you can keep. I promise that if you say yes you will get a little baby. And I promise no harm will come to you or them. I want a child as much as I know you do. So just leave a note with yes or a no. I will not do anything without permission.

Yours truly, <3'

Atom read and reread it almost a thousand times.

"A...a child?" He holds his tummy with tears. "N-no....t-this can't be real....it's a trick...." He sat down. He couldn't believe it. This person, had already done so much good to him. But would he really give him a child? And even let him keep it?

Atom teared up and cried. All he ever wanted was to hold a child. A child of his own. But everytime he had one before, Razz and the others would kill it. He could only see it when they snaped it's little neck infront of him. Never hold it for even a second. He read the note again. With tears in his eyes he wrote his anwser and went to bed.

The next morning Atom felt strange. He got up and ran to the bathroom to throw up. He hung over the edge of the trashcan goaning.

"Mmngh-" He gasps softly. He lifts his shirt. His eye's widened when he saw a little soul swimming around peacefully. He hugs his tummy tightly. He slowly gets back up and heads back to the room but there was no breakfast in his bed. Atom goes down stairs. He nods when he sees a masive breakfast on the table.

"That would make sense....." He ate and went outside. He gardened for an hour or two before laying down on the grass for a nap.

The next day Atom told Dawn the happy news. He was going to have a child. Dawn smiles and hugs him tightly.

"That's amazing!!! Though....I wouldn't expect him to actually do that.....he never struck me as a family person.....strange...."

Atom looks at her with fear. "H-he's n-not gonna kill them i-is he!?"

"Oh, no, no. I highly doubt it! He loves kids. And....he loves you. I wouldn't think he would do this just to break your heart in the end......he's insane yes....but not crule. Unless you happen to be someone he really truly hates. Oh jeese I might be giving away too much information about him."

Atom nods softly. "If you say so...."

Dawn smiles softly. "You're safe. I promise."

Atom sighs. "Any more letters?"

"No. Not today. But I suggest you write him some. He got really happy when you wrote the one asking if I could come over. Well not me spacificly but you get the point."

Atom nods. "Alright."

Dawn smiles softly. "I'll see you later. Bye Atom."

"Bye Dawn...."

Dawn leaves and Atom sits down to ponder if this was a good idea. He hugs his knees and cries, sobbing endlessly. Someone wraps a blanket around his shoulders. Atom stops and perks up. He looks around. But he was alone. A hot cup of coco lay beside him. He picks it up and sips it.

"Thank you....." He whispers softly. He dries his tears and calms down. He lays down on the couch and falls asleep, holding his tummy tight.

The next morning he found himself in his bed, again woken with a kiss and a tray of warm food with pancakes shapped as hearts. He smiles softly as he eats. He rubs his tummy.

"...maybe he really does love me......who ever he is."

Atom gets up and goes downstairs. He pauses when he sees a wooden box with a note on the table. He picks them up and reads the note.

'My dear beloved firefly,

I was thinking of you the other day and thought you might like this. It's not much but it's the best I could get. I know you'll make something amazing.

Yours truly <3'

Atom opens the box. Inside was a yarn, thred, needles and fabric. Sewing, knitting and needle work. Atom was delighted. He took the box and sat down to work.

He works all day, and late into the night. He wanted to keep working but suddenly felt very tired. He falls asleep soon after.

The days days past easily. Atom had almost forgotten about his past life. He was looking forward to being a mother and hopfully meeting his lover. Dawn visited every so often and they would talk. And then one day Dawn gave Atom some news that made his heart skip a beat.

"H-he wants t-to m-ma-marry me!?" Atom exclaims.

Dawn nods. "Yep."

"But I-I don't e-even know who he is!!!!"

"....well....you kinda do...."

Atom trembles. "W-who!?"

"Me." A deep, smooth, voice said from behind.

Atom jumped and turned around and looks up. He froze in place his eyes wide.

There, near the couch, was a tall, hansom, black skeloton with jet black moth wings and a charming, seductive smile. It was Dusk. "Hello starlight."

Atom faints.

Atom shifts and slowly wakes up. He pauses. He was laying on Dusk's lap, his head against his chest, Dusk's arm around him. A soft blanket was drapped over him. His mind raced. 'No this can't be real. It's too good to be real.' He shook he couldn't wrap his head around it.

"Oh your awake." Dusk smiles and wraps the blanket around him a little more. "Have a good rest?"

Atom nods softly. "Y-yes t-th-thank y-you." He fidgets. "I-is t-this real? I-is it really y-you?......"

Dusk chuckles. "Sure is, Starlight."

Atom was in utter shock. "I-it w-was y-you all t-this time?"

Dusk nods. "Yep."

".....b-but....why?" The only thing Atom could say in the moment. "W-why?"

"Why what?"

"Why.....everything.....w-why did you s-save me? Why? Why didn't y-you kill me? W-why did y-you do this...a-all this

.....f-for....m-me?"

Dusk chuckles softly. "Oh my sweet starlight." He rubs his cheeks.

Atom holds his hand and looks at his eyes. So kind and caring and loving. He saw his future in them. Bright and warm and full of love.

"....." Atom gazes into his eyes. Just then something caught his attention. Dusk wings. He looks at them closely and gasps softly. His wings, they weren't completely black! They shimmered like the night sky. He touches them gently. They were soft and felt like velvet. He smiles softly and looks up at Dusk. He smiles.

Just then he felt a small kick in his tummy. He winces softly. Dusk lays his hand on his tummy.

"Lively one arn't they?" He smiles softly.

Atom pauses as the pieces clicked. "This is.....I'm carrying.....no....this.....you really did-"

Dusk laughs and kisses him. "Yes. And I'm just as excited as you are."

Atom jumps up and wraps his arms around Dusk's neck. "Thank you!!!" He cries heavily into him.

Dusk holds him close and rocks him. Atom sobs. Dusk comforts him as he calms down slowly.

"Thank you."

"It's my pleasure." Dusk purrs. He pets him gently.

"S-so...you're really want t-to marry me?" He looks up at him with wide eyes.

Dusk nods. "As soon as possible. But I'll let you settle down first."

Atom snuggles into him. "Thank you...."

Dusk nuzzles him. "It's my pleasure."

Atom falls asleep once again.

Wedding bells rang cheerfully. Atom stood infront of the mirror, nervous. It was the day of his and Dusk's wedding. He shifts in his dress as he looks at his reflection.

"Is this really h-happening?....Am I..r-really getting m-married?....a-and to D-dusk?" He trembles in both fear and excitement.

Dawn pokes her head in. "Hurry everyone's waiting for you! And Dusk really isn't that patient! Especially on day's like this!"

Atom nods and hurries out. He pauses when he saw Dusk at the alter. He almost fainted again. This was real and he really was getting married to his dream man. He slowly walks down the isle, blushing softly. He gets to the alter and stops in front of Dusk.

Dusk looks at him and blushes softly. "You're beautiful."

Atom blushes more. "Y-you really think s-so."

Dusk nods.

Atom beams as the priest starts. Atom gazes at Dusk waits for those special words.

"Do you Dusk take Atom to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do." Dusk smiles. Atom beams happily.

"And do you Atom take Dusk to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I d-do!"

"You may now kiss the bride."

Dusk pulls Atom in and kisses him deeply. Atom blushes brightly as he melts into the kiss. Everything was perfect.

Dusk sweeps him off his feet and takes him to the celebration party. Cross cuts the cake. Atom looks at Dusk. Dusk chuckles.

"Go on. Have as much as you want."

Atom gasps happily and takes as much cake as could fit on his plate.

Dusk pauses. "Okay maybe not that much.....don't want you sick."

Atom pouts and eats it anyway. Dusk laughs softly.

"Cutie~" He winks at him.

Atom blushes. His mouth stuffed with cake. Dusk licks the frosting off his cheek. Atom giggles and boops him. Dusk laughs and kisses him.

Atom gazes up at his eyes again. "I st-still can't belive I'm ma-married! And t-to you of a-all people!" He beams happily. "A-and to think y-you found w-worth in m-me.....instead of just killing or eating me....."

Dusk laughs. "Eaten you!? You were little more than a ration when I found you!" He looks at him and smirks. "But you've definently rounded out nicely since then~" He rubs his waist. "Fit for a king~"

Atom shivers and blushes. "Y-you're not g-gonna eat me are you?"

"If you don't want me to I won't."

Atom nods softly.

There was a scoff behind them. "Well well well~ what do we have here?"

Atom freezes and burries into Dusk. Dusk snarls. "Razz-"

Razz smirks. "Hello Atom. I missed you."

Atom twitches. "Missed what? Useing me!? Beating me to the floor? Abusing my kindness?"

Razz acts offended. "Atom! I thought you were better than this! I just came to congratulate you after you left me with out saying anything! Then get married behind my back with out inviting me! After all the love I gave you? I'm offended. I didn't even have to be here!"

Atom shakes. "Selling the one you love off to other people for money ISNT LOVE! You SOLD me razz! FOR MONEY!! I gave you my heart, my love and my kindness! YOU were the one who WANTED a child an when we did- YOU KILLED IT! I'm MUCH BETTER OFF WITHOUT you! I'm MARRIED to someone whose much kinder and more patient than you EVER COULD BE!! I-i just wants someone to love me.....someone who'll just hold me.....wh-who won't call me an idiot every time I mess up a dish....that wasn't to your liking! IM SO TIRED OF YOU YELLING AT ME BECAUSE IT WASNT PERFECT!!!! WHO CARES HOW THE STEAK IS CUT!?! Who CARES HOW MUCH SHARDINAE IS IN THE GLASS?! Dusk doesn't! Dusk loves me! He took the time to love me! To know me! YOU NEVER DID ANY OF THAT!!! YOU JUST PUSHED ME AWAY LIKE I WAS NOTHING BUT A TOY!!! I'M NOT A TOY!!! AND DUSK UNDERSTANDS THAT!!! HE TREATS ME LIKE AN ACTUAL PERSON!!!! HE LOVES ME!!! YOU!!! NEVER!!! DID!!!" He shakes and runs away.

Dusk watches Atom with sorrow. He glares harshly at Razz and attacks him.

Atom runs and hides in an empty tree hollow. He cries heavily and holds his tummy tight. He sobs. Something pokes at his tummy. Something, large, wet, and black. A huge nose. A huge nose belonging to a huge black wolf with large red eyes. Atom gasps and backs more into the tree. The wolf pawses and whimpers. He tries to wiggle in with him. He gets stuck and tries to pull his head out. Atom pauses and helps him.

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pezberryandotherlesbians · 5 years

Text

so I accidentally deleted my ENTIRE TUMBLR yesterday immediately after posting this request. I managed to get some screenshots but long story short, if ur like wow hey ur posting the same things again - u are correct. also feel free to RE-follow this account of u so wish. On with the show. ps thanks for the prompt!

M Rating

You felt the blood throb inside your thighs, burning and swelling as you again put more pressure on them. There were only a few minutes left of the game, and you sure as hell weren’t going to give in to the exhaustion now - not if you wanted to win. Your stick felt like an extension of your body as you skated across the rink, pluck clicking against your weapon like an offbeat soundtrack. Pulling back, you swung harder than you had all night, celebrating prematurely before you realised your efforts had been intercepted. Fucking Lynn.

She was the best player on their team and she’d been on your ass all night. It didn’t help that she looked so utterly pleased with herself each and every time she ruined your play, a sparkle in her eye as she disappeared from your view. The buzzer sounded then, cheers erupting for her team. Bitterness flooding your mouth, sinking into the insides of your cheeks as you flushed angry red, the heat you’d been oblivious to now your primary focus. You wanted to get off and get changed, go home and shower and figure out why Lynn so effortlessly slithered under your skin at every single game.

‘Y/n!’ You turned to see her skating coolly toward you with a hand running through tussled hair. ‘Good game. You’re a sharp hitter, dude.’ She complimented sweetly, seeming entirely genuine as she pushed the same hand that had been in her hair in your direction. You shook it, albeit with a hint of reluctance, ignoring the jolt of lightning skin to skin contact with your enemy seemed to afford you.

‘Not sharp enough for you, clearly.’ You reply, smiling through your irritation. Lynn raises her eyebrows, playfully taken aback.

‘Am I sensing a little anger here, y/n? A little jealousy perhaps?’ She teases, even going as far as to poke you in the stomach with the back end of her stick. It makes you laugh, despite your best efforts not to.

‘No! Stop! Whatever, I’m not jealous. I’ll beat you next time. Maybe...probably not.’ You give in, feeling your competitiveness slide off of you as the sweat dripps down your face. ‘I need to get changed.’ You tell her, smiling.

Lynn nods, but something keeps you with her. You feel like your interaction isn’t over, like maybe she has more to say. And she does.

‘Can I come with you? The rest of the team don’t care about going out like this but I’m officially over it. But I know we enemies aren’t supposed to share changing rooms, so no pressure.’ She giggles, pulling her bottom lip nervously between her teeth. You falter, if only for a second. Eyes glued to the bottom half of her mouth.

‘Yeah, no - of course. Stupid rules for a stupid game.’ You sigh, realising what a sore loser you sound - and are. Lynn laughs.

‘So stupid. Stupid enough for to play it week in and week out.’ She nudges you with her shoulder before picking up speed, skating right past you.

‘Can you keep up, or did that little game tire you out?’ She calls, showing off repeatedly with a cocky grin on her face. You race up to her, almost knocking her over on your way past. She stumbles, but you’re already out of reach by the time she recovers.

‘Coming?’ You ask politely, using your shoulder to burst open the change room door. You hold it open for her, mumbling for her to take her time as you wait for her to catch up.

‘Thanks.’ She says sarcastically, a little breathless.

‘You’re welcome, honey.’ You drawl, a southern accent on your tongue. Lynn eyes you, green orbs glistening with mirth.

‘You should talk like that more often. It’s hot.’ She informs you casually, plonking herself down onto the bench to remove her skates. You try to regain your balance, to play it just as cool as she is.

‘And why would I do anything for you, sworn enemy?’ You reply, crashing down beside her. She already has her skates off, but she doesn’t move.

‘I can think of a few reasons.’ She says softly, and you could swear to god it sounds like she’s flirting with you. You want to say something good, something solid in return, but your skate is jammed and it’s driving you crazy, stressing you out just a little and making you feel trapped.

‘I can’t get my skate off.’ You whisper, smiling regretfully when you feel how badly you’ve ruined any potential moment. Lynn laughs at least, swiftly dropping to her knees before you. You gulp, unsure of why your body is suddenly so tense, your legs spreading unconsciously as she slips between them, hands either side of your stubborn skate.

‘How’d you manage this?’ She asks, focused on the task at hand.

‘I have no idea.’ You breathe, becoming increasingly on edge.

‘Well.’ She flicks her eyes up to where you sit, slowly melting away. Sure, Lynn was attractive. And sure you’d noticed and sure, you’d thought about stuff before, but having her gaze up at you from between your legs as her fingers work at your stupid skate is more of a turn on than you ever could have imagined.

She pauses her movements for a second. ‘Wait, too hot. Let me take this off.’ She removes her gear, leaving her top off in only a white t-shit with the sleeves cut off, revealing taut muscles that flex and swell with each and every attempt she makes at freeing you. ‘I think you might be the girl with a skate for a foot for the rest of your life, y/n.’ She jokes after she still hasn’t made much progress after a few seconds. ‘Skater girl.’ She beams a moment later, staring up at you for praise.

‘That was a good one.’ You whisper, widening your eyes sardonically. Finally, the skate comes off. Lynn cheers and you let your spine hit the wall behind you. You’re still a mess, but at least now you have both your feet. Lynn remains on her knees, smiling victoriously. You remove your gear, feeling too constricted to wait until you have more privacy. Not that Lynn needed more privacy a moment ago. Lynn watches you undress. She’s shameless about it - and that just turns you on more.

‘Want a picture?’ You ask, straightening your shirt.

‘I’d love one.’ She shoots back, her tone low and serious. You stare down at her, too scared to break the tension on your own. That’s when she rises, cups one side of your face and leans in, leaving an inch of space for you to close on your own. You do, and it isn’t long before her tongue is swiping at your bottom lip, hands pulling restlessly at your sides. You can’t tell who is breathing so hard, who’s moans are who’s. It all melds into one, and the heat you felt out on the rink is nothing compared to the heat you feel now. Lynn straddles you, rolling her hips over yours every now and then. You hold her waist, dragging your nails across her skin. It again isn’t long until Lynn is back on her knees, this time taking your pants and removing them with ease as you lift your hips to assist. She looks up at you again, this time questioning. You nod as you run a hand through her hair, guiding her between your legs. She groans softly before her tongue presses against your underwear, hot and wet. Fingers trail up and down your thighs, nails piercing skin when you sense her becoming overwhelmed. Knuckles graze your skin as her fingers hook beneath the waistband of your underwear, taking them away with her. Her mouth returns with renewed desperation, tongue sliding against you while fingers draw close. You watch her, waiting for her to watch you. She does, just as she pushes two fingers inside of you.

‘Fuck.’ You gasp, hand tightening in her hair as she smiles against your core. She tastes all of you as her fingers keep a rhythm, just deep enough to have your writhing within minutes. You climax with one of her hands inside you and the othe interlocked with yours. She holds you steady as she brings you down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she rises to your level. She kisses you deeply, slowly and with more feeling than you’d been expecting. You kiss her back just as hard, wrapping your hand around the back of her neck. Foreheads presses together, you laugh in giddy disbelief.

‘What the hell was that? No, you know what. You’re better at that than you are at hockey.’ You declare, laughing dizzy. Lynn pretends to be offended before smiling with all of her teeth.

‘I’m okay with that actually. Got any plans right now?’ She breathes, something in hers telling you she’s nowhere near done with you.

‘I’m gonna be wherever you are.’ You say without thinking.

‘Well, I’m going home.’ She smiles, lips slightly swollen and eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them before. ‘And I’m bringing you with me.’

#lynn gunn #lynn gunn fanfic #lynn gunn fanfiction #lynn gunn smut #lynn gunn imagine #band member imagine

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iamtotallycool · 5 years

Text

In the Case

This is an EOA Fantastic Beasts!AU that I had sitting in my drafts ever since I saw The Crimes of Grindelwald...so it’s been in there for awhile!

Anyways, this was a chance for me to write something featuring the Core 4 Amigos and I hope you guys enjoy it!

PS It is quite long, hence the read more link XD

“Ouch!” Naomi yelped loudly.

“Sorry, just a couple of more shards,” Gabe said as he held her foot in his lap, tweezers in hand as he pulled out the last bit of glass from a broken bottle that she had stepped on during their daring escape at the Blind Pig Pub.

Across the way, their wizard companions were putting the last of the captured magical creatures back into their respective enclosures.

“Don’t worry, mommy’s here,” Mateo said as he slowly placed the baby Occamy back in the nest with the rest of his younger siblings.

The chicks each took a turn wrapping and sliding over his forearms and hands, all chirping with excitement and anticipation.

“Yes, yes, mommy hasn’t forgotten about dinner time.”

Elena smiled at the sweet sentiment as she picked up Dougal and placed him back in his hanging hammock. The exhausted Demiguise let out a great yawn and Elena covered him with a small quilt.

“Thanks Ms. Flores,” Mateo said, as he threw a few meat pellets into the Occamy’s nest.

“Oh, I think we’re long past formal titles Mateo.” Elena pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, “You can just call me Elena.”

“Ok…Elena,” Mateo said as he shot her a smile, which she happily returned. “And you’re sure that was everything that came out of your case right?” Naomi then asked skeptically, not that anyone would blame her.

The group had had several close encounters with the law and creatures a like just in the past day. They were only now catching their breath inside Mateo’s magical suitcase, which itself was securely tucked away in a far corner on the Macy’s store roof.

“I promise you it was,” Mateo said as he pulled off his ruined vest and untucked his dress shirt. “Delgado has no reason now to keep blaming my creatures for these attacks.”

“Right, now it’s just the easy part of trying to convince the entire MACUSA team of that.”

“Nice to see where your optimism lies Naomi,” Elena joked as she began removing her sparkly and chunky jewelry.

“Just trying to keep everything in a realistic perspective–OUCH!” She yelped again, and smacked Gabe on the shoulder for good measure.

“Oh here, let me grab my wand and I’ll fix that right up,” Elena said as she made a reach for her thigh holster.

“Oh yeah, what am I doing?” Naomi said as she began to pull away.

“No magic,” Gabe said sternly as he grabbed Naomi’s foot again. “If you three want to jump on to chandeliers, or dive off second story landings, or taunt creatures the size of houses, then you are going to be treated and healed like a muggle or else you won’t learn your lesson.”

The three accused looked at each other, seeing who would be the first to speak out in protest. But from the sheer amount of cuts and bruises they had, they knew it wouldn’t be an argument they could win against someone like Gabe.

So, instead they replied in unison, “Yes sir."

“Then can I least get a drink that’s not any of that god awful giggle water.” Naomi groaned, “Stupid prohibition.”

“Here,” Mateo said as he went over to the small kitchenette and grabbed a bottle off the top shelf. “It was a gift given to me while I was over in England.”

“Now were talking,” Naomi said when she saw that it was a bottle of Firewhiskey, “Grab some cups then, I think we could all use a little.”

“What were you looking for in England?” Elena asked, grabbing four mix-matched cups and mugs from Mateo’s cabinet and bringing them over to the table.

“Was just helping out a friend of my grandfather’s with a giant squid situation,” Mateo said as he poured everyone a small some of the whiskey and began passing them around. “Poor creature was injured and acting out, scaring the young wizards at the school.”

“Wait, are there schools that teach you guys magic?” Gabe asked in astonishment as he finished bandaging up Naomi’s wound.

“Of course!” Mateo exclaimed, “Where else do you think we learned magic?”

“Hey, 48 hours ago, I didn’t even know all of this existed,” Gabe said as he widely gestured around to emphasize the 'this.' “Where did you go to school at?”

“Avalor,” Mateo said excitedly. “It’s a school hidden within an old Maruvian temple deep in the jungles of Latin America.”

“What was it like?” Elena then asked in a longing tone, placing her chin in her hand.

“Incredible,” Mateo said, his smile stretched so wide on his face. “I remember holding my head high as I walked through the doors with one of my grandfather’s tamoritas clutched tightly in my hand. The colorful Jaquins would fly around and sing songs while they guarded the school. And two years later, I was able to summon my spirit guide, Cacahuate.”

“And what about the graduation ceremony?” Elena asked, grabbing his arm eagerly. “They said that the King of the Janquins himself comes, presenting words of wisdom to only those wizards.”

“Wouldn’t know what that is like actually,” Mateo said sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I…kind of got expelled from the school during my 5th year.”

“Does it have anything to do with the girl whose picture you’ve got over there?” Gabe asked, pointing to Mateo’s small office area. “Rita, right? That’s what it says on the frame.”

“Nothing gets past you Detective Nunez,” Mateo said sarcastically as he took an unusually large gulp of his Firewhiskey. “It was a misunderstanding. She…she just wanted to take care of a creature on her own.”

Mateo unbuttoned his shirt enough to reveal a large and deep scar that covered his entire left shoulder and some of his collarbone.

“The Professors ended up finding me soon after the creature went on a rampage, and it took me a week to recover.” Mateo bent his head up, staring at the star illusion that floated above them, and absorbing their bright light to fight back the dark memory. “Turns out some people got hurt though, luckily it was no where near as bad as me. But I should have never left her alone, so I thought I should take the fall for her.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Naomi said coolly.

“It seemed like the right thing to do at the time,” Mateo replied nonchalantly. “So, now that I was expelled, a disgrace to my grandfather’s legacy and not wanting to be a burden to my mom, I decided to head out and drift around.”

"Worked out though, since I ended up realizing that what I really wanted to do was save and preserve these guys," Mateo glowed with pride as he swiveled around in his chair to look at his creatures. The constant and comforting reminders that his life and work had meant something, despite what others still whispered when they saw him. "And hopefully I'll get to educate fellow wizards about them as well.”

“Have you seen Rita since you got expelled?” Elena then asked.

Mateo didn’t say anything as he just shook his head.

“Well, if I can speak freely, she seems like a taker Mateo,” Elena said in a gentle tone, laying a hand on top of his. “And you need a giver. You’re too sweet and kind to have anything less.”

The young wizard looked back at her with a wide eyed expression, waiting for her to take back the kind words she had just said. But she didn’t, and instead gripped his fingers tighter.

“It's nothing to really dread about. It was a long time ago.” Mateo then let out a forced cough and turned his attention else where. “Anyways, what about you Naomi, did you attend a school here in the states?”

“Nope,” Naomi said, making a popping sound on the ‘p’. “I didn’t attend any school, I’m surprised you haven’t figured out that I’m a squib.”

“What’s a squib?” Gabe asked, feeling slightly exhausted from all the questions he had to keep asking.

“A non-magical child born from wizard parents.”

“That’s the PC way of saying it,” Naomi said with a harsh edge to her words. “My parents did attend magical schools though, my father went to Ilvamorny and my mother went to Nordburg, a small Norwegian School. And by the time I was born, my parents were firmly in the trading business; so I’ve been learning about the wizarding world and muggle world since I could walk.”

“That wasn’t hard at all?” Elena inquired.

Naomi shrugged, “At times. But my dad was a muggle-born and my mom was always open-minded. So together they had the strong belief that any skill learned could be useful, magical or not.

“Like for one…” Naomi quickly reached under her and pulled up Niffler by one his feet, “Being able to detect pick-pocketers, especially little kleptomaniacs.”

“Oh jeez,” Mateo said with an exasperated tone as he grabbed Niffler from Naomi and went to, once again, put him back in his cage. “I swear I can’t take my eyes off of you for a second.”

“Are you going to be taking over your parents business then?” Gabe asked sincerely, as he gently ran his hand down her foot to smooth down her bandages.

“Not exactly,” Naomi said as she ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “My parents might be open-minded, but the same can’t be said for the crew or, more importantly, our noble, pure-blooded clients.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Especially since I ended up breaking one of those pompous windbags noses after he called me something along the lines of a ‘filthy little squib that should have been killed at birth.’”

“Surprised he only got away with a broken nose,” Elena said as she placed her hand back on top of Mateo’s once he rejoined the group.

“Well, as good as it felt to do that, my parents ended up getting some pretty bad backlash. Because for whatever reason, no matter what I do, it seems to not mean anything. And even my parent’s crew thought–”

Naomi stopped herself abruptly and bit her lip. She closed her eyes tightly and let out a frustrated and staggered sigh. She remained that way for a couple of long seconds before she opened her eyes and waved her hand, as if to bat away her negative feelings.

“Anyways, I didn’t really want to be a part of the wizarding world for a while. So I decided to build connections and reaffirm old ones my dad had from his days when he was still living between both worlds here in the states. And it's not a lot, but it's a start.”

"That's some really impressive dedication you've got there," Gabe praised, hand still on her ankle.

Naomi smiled. “Well now I’m curious about you Mister Muggle.”

Gabe laughed, “I can guarantee that my school wasn’t anything big, and certainly not as exciting as a wizarding school.”

“No, but you told me earlier that you fought in the war,” Mateo said, noting back to the awkward small talk the two of them had been making on their way to Central Park the previous night. “Were you drafted into it?”

“No, I enlisted for the army on December 16th of 1914.″

“Wait,” Mateo interrupted, the wheels in his head turning and calculating. “But that means you would’ve been underage at the time, right?”

Gabe shrugged, “Honestly, when you’re a kid like me growing up in the Bronx, there wasn’t really a difference between being 16 and 18. Besides, there were kids a lot younger that signed up and someone had to keep an eye on them.”

“Still, what did you’re parents think?” Mateo asked, remembering how a lot of wizarding families had felt about rogue wizards joining the efforts, his mother included.

“About as well as you could imagine,” Gabe said as he began loosening his tie, letting out a deep sigh once he was free. “My mom just kind of had this blank and confused look on her face while my dad was furious: yelling and screaming about how he didn’t immigrant to this country so that his son could end up dead in the mud in some foreign place. But, it worked out for me in the end, still have all my limbs and my life.”

Gabe then let out a bitter chuckle and dragged his hand through his already messy hair. “Of course, fighting the war had been the easy part. Trying to find a place here when I returned had been a very different story. I tried so hard to get a job on the police force, but I guess I had been in the war too long and I didn’t have the right ‘look.’ So my only options were to either work in a canning factory like a lot of the other guys, go back to my parents, or, for the best I could do, work security at the bank. Wasn't really hard decision to make in the end.”

“And what about your parents?”

“They’re doing good, still running their small bakery where you have to try the empanadas if you ever go,” Gabe smiled fondly. “My mom and me still see each other and talk when we can, but my dad and I on the other hand…still a little touchy.”

“Anyways that just leaves you Elena,” Gabe said hastily before an awkward pause could even start, “did you go to a different wizarding school in Latin America?”

“I actually didn’t attend any schools either.”

“Really?”

Elena nodded, “My father was the President of Magic, just as my grandfather had been before him, and his mother before him.”

“No wonder they used to call you the Royal Family,” Mateo teased which Elena responded by lightly shoving his shoulder.

“You can imagine then that my family and our curriculum changed to be more focused on homeschooling.” Elena shrugged, “It wasn’t much a surprise since everyone was expecting me or my cousins, Esteban and Cristobal, to become the next leader. Though I really wanted to attend Avalor more than anything.”

A deep shadow then fell over Elena’s eyes as she stared down into her cup of alcohol, getting lost in the dark color of the liquid.

“But when I was 15…” She cleared her throat, trying to choke down the sob. “When I was 15, my parents were killed.”

Gabe froze in shock. “Do you know who killed them?”

“Yes,” Elena said as her voice remained very solemn, “Her name is Shuriki, she’s an international terrorist that is still on the loose. And she made a grand show of power not too long ago by murdering my parents with the killing curse on the grounds of the Mexican Ministry.”

She and her fanatics disappeared though before she could have a chance to get me and the rest of my family. However, knowing that she would come after us again, we went into hiding.”

Elena took a sip of her alcohol before she continued. “And while it was a large and beautiful castle we stayed in, it was still a gilded prison, I felt myself going insane in there as every day passed.”

So, when I turned 17 and a little help from the international council: I cut my hair, stowed away my family’s scepter, and began training as an Auror, much to the disapproval of my grandparents. And after a couple of years of pushing papers and shadowing others, I finally got a chance to pick where I wanted to be located.”

Elena leaned in closer to her companions, letting them in on her top secret information that she had not shared with anyone, even her little sister Isabel. “I heard a rumor that Shuriki came to the US and I know she’s here, I've been feeling her presence for months. And I’m going to find and bring her to justice for my parents if it’s the last thing I do.”

The group fell silent. The empty air around them began being filled with the various sounds of the beasts, continuing on their simple existences and completely oblivious to what had just happened. Meanwhile, all the humans could do was keep staring at each other as they felt somehow freer and heavier than they had a few moments ago. And all, no doubt, wondering if more alcohol would be a viable option right now.

“Wow, that got…unintentionally deep and personal," Naomi commented.

“Well, there are some things you can’t do without liking each other in the end,” Mateo responded.

“Like capturing a 20 foot Occamy.”

“Or thrashing a Goblin’s bar.”

“Or breaking out of MACUSA.”

“Or having some very nice mugshots plastered all over the wizarding world.”

They all let out a small laugh, nothing quite as hardy or jovial like when they had worked together to capture the Occamy, but still warm and very much needed.

“Alright, we have to find this mystery creature,” Elena then said in an unwavering time as she turned to face her friend. “Mateo, are you positive that it is an obscurial?”

“Absolutely, the markings were a dead give away.” Mateo scoffed, “I hate to burst the President’s bubble, but just because obscurials aren’t as common as they were a long time ago, doesn't mean they're gone. I’ve come across many cases of these poor, troubled kids.”

“So since it’s from a form of powerful repression, we can easily rule out kids in new money families,” Naomi noted. “I highly doubt they would be against their kids using magic if it meant prosperity.”

“That’s a good point, but that could easily mean that rich families from old money could have an obscurial, if they don’t want to face anything out of the norm,” Gabe chimed in. “But I suppose class doesn’t mean anything, does it?”

“Not in the grand scheme of things, but you’re on the right track," Mateo said as he reached for his notebook, where he jotted down quick and messy observations. “I’m talking about a really dark environment though, usually the child is under heavy abuse, being constantly punished for their magical powers, and knowing that they have to repress this power in order to survive.”

“Alright, I have a few places in mind, either from reports or things I’ve noticed,” Gabe said. “We’ll need to get cleaned up and head out as soon as we can.”

“I agree” Elena said determinedly. “We can’t afford to waste anymore time, muggles and wizards are going to get increasingly paranoid the more these attacks keep happening, and I fear there could be a point that we can’t come back from and the Statute of Secrecy will be null and void.”

Elena pulled out her wand and waved it so that their glitzy formal clothes began to melt away into their more suitable civilian attires. “The last thing I want to happen is for Shuriki or her fanatics to get even the slightest hint of success for their insane crusade.”

“Well, I know we’re with you, all the way,” Mateo said encouragingly, using his own wand to summon medical supplies from his workshop table.

"They won't even know what hit them," Naomi chimed in.

“And besides," Gabe began in a confident tone. "After everything else we’ve faced, how much harder could this really be?”

#Elena of Avalor #elena castillo flores #mateo de alva #naomi turner #gabe nunez #Disney #disney jr #harry potter au #fantastic beasts au

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daniofcrows · 6 years

Text

Say Goodbye (part 1)

Hey, so, first fanfic on Tumblr. Yeah!

I feel like I should finally post some writing on here because Tumblr is like a safe place for me <3

ANYWAY this is an Anti fic. I got inspired by all the…stuff… Jack is pulling with his latest video.

WARNING: this does contain some graphic imagery, gore, and torture (and it might feel rushed :P)

… let’s go! PS- not really proud of how it turned out :P

—————————————————–

Jack awoke with a start. He sat up quickly. Too quickly. His head throbbed painfully. A pressure was pushing against his skull and his head felt too heavy for his neck.

He groaned in agony and eased himself back down onto his back.

His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. It soaked his shirt as well.

Jack moved his hands slowly up to his head to massage his temples and forehead. His muscles ached in protest despite him moving so carefully. On his right temple, his hand made contact with a bruise. It pulsed and ached under his touch causing Jack to winced.

He opened his eyes again and, for the first time, noticed something attached to his wrist. He removed his hand from his temple and moved it in front on him.

A shackle was chained around his wrist. He glanced at the opposite wrist only to find the same horrifying thing.

Jack sat up again, much more cautiously this time, and followed the shackle chains with his eyes to where the connected to the same location on the wall behind him.

Panic began to set in. Jack’s breathing quickened. His eyes darted around, trying desperately to figure where he was.

The room he was trapped in was dark. Pitch black. In the darkness he could not tell how big or small his cell was. All he knew was the the floor and walls were hard and cold like concrete.

His breath still shaking, Jack lifted his right arm and reached out as far as the chains would allow in that direction. His hand met no adjacent wall. He then did the same with his right hand. Again, nothing.

Jack pulled his arms back into him. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his shackled arms around them. He rested his aching head in between his knees.

Feeling a bit safer and smaller, Jack attempted to calm down. He took steady deep breaths,

In… out… in… and out

After several minutes of this, Jack’s hands finally stopped shaking. Even his head pain ebbed.

Jack lifted his head and wipped his bangs from his forehead.

Jack placed his legs beneath him and stood up. His knees buckled, but he used the cold wall to steady himself.

Immediately following him getting to his feet, a dull glow illuminated the room.

Jack wrinkled his brow as he glaced around the room, he realized the opposite walls were merely an inch out of his reach. There were no light fixtures in the room.

No lights, no furniture. Just four concrete walls and floor, a low ceiling, and a body.

On the wall directly across from Jack, roughly seven feet away, a body sat proped up against the cold wall. The body of the young male doctor. The body wore a lab coat and blue undershirt. It wore no shoes. His clothes were in tatters. His coat had a sleeve ripped off. His pants had holes and rips everywhere. His undershirt exposed parts of his stomach and chest. But what sickened Jack the most was the horrible, brutal shape the body was in. Bruised and bloody. The holes in his undershirt were all made by a knife. His skin was cut open and blood leaked out, staining his scrubs. Some wounds looked recent, some had dried a long time ago.

His arms, which laid limp at his sides were bruised and lined with thin cuts, some long and some short, all rumning the length of his arm. His wrists were raw and bloody, as if he had been tied or chained up like Jack was now. His fingers looked broken like his arms, and a few of his fingernails were missing.

But his face… his face was the worst part, it looked nothing like it had the last time Jack saw it… months and months ago.

Doctor Henrik Von Sneep’s face was badly beaten. His left eye was purple and swollen shut. His lips were dry and cracked with an open wound in his upper lip. His nose was obviously broken with dried blood trickling out of it.

Bloody lines were traced onto Henrik’s face like someone was trying to paint a twisted picture there with the edge of a knife.

Jack’s breath caught in his throat when he recognised his missing friend. He ran forward but the shackles held him fast. Jack strained against them, reaching and leaning forward trying to get as close as possible to his friend.

“Henrik? Henrik!” Jack shouted at his body. But Henrik did not move. He did not open his eyes. He did not even look like he was breathing.

Jack slowly sank to his knees as the reality of the situation began setting in. His arms were held behind him by the chains that did not reach far enough.

“Henrik?” Jack’s voice broke as a tear slid down his cheek.

Henrik had been missing for months. Nearly half a year. Jack and the others had been searching for him ever since. Searching everywhere and fearing the worst, because at the same time Henrik went missing, another ego disappeared with him…

“Did you miss me, Jack?”

A crazed voice suddenly appeared behind Jack. It was distorted, insane.

Evil.

Jack got to his feet immediately and whipped his head over his shoulder.

“Or did you miss HIM more?”

That evil was in front of him now. Jack turned his head forward again and came face-to-face with his demon and Henrik’s capturer.

Frightened by how close Anti was to him, Jack stumbled backward. He lost his footing and landed on the floor on his back. Jack tried to crawl backward on his elbows, but Anti planted his foot on Jack’s lower ribs.

“I figured it might be time to finally tell you what happend to precious Henrik.” Anti mocked.

He stared at Jack, who had taken hold of Anti’s ankle, with the smile of a man who lost his mind years ago.

Jack grunted as he desperately attempted to lift Anti’s foot off his ribs.

“Aw, does it hurt, Jack?” Anti chuckled as he steadily applied increasing pressure to Jack’s ribs.

Jack let out a whimper as he felt his lower ribs bending under Anti’s force. They felt as though they would snap at any second.

Suddenly, Anti’s pressure eased, and he scoffed. “Don’t worry, Jack. I have something much worse planned for you than just physical pain.”

Anti stepped off Jack, who took in a deep, relieved breath.

“You get to watch.” Anti giggled maniacally.

Jack’s body feel numb as Anti turned away from him. He knew exactly what he meet. Jack’s stomach twisted into knots.

Jack scattered to his feet in panic. “No! Anti, please!” Jack tried to reach out, tried to grab Anti before he walked too far away but his chains would not allow it.

All Jack could do was yell: “Anti, stop! You’ve done enough to him. Leave him alone!”

Anti stopped in his tracks. For the first time, Jack noticed Anti held a silver knife in his right hand. His grip on it tightened as he stomped back to Jack, something between a scowl and a smile painted on his lips.

Anti gripped Jack’s soft brown hair and yanked it back, forcing Jack to look into his terrible, insane eyes.

“He deserves everything he gets.” Anti whispered. His voice breaking into different pitches.

Jack throat could not form words. His body had begun quavering again. All that came out of his slackened mouth were gasps of terror.

Anti released Jack’s hair and turned his back on him once again.

Anti took his time walking to Henrik. Every step he took was slow, deliberate.

Anti knelt beside Henrik and leaned toward his ear. “Wake up, doctor. Look who finally came to see you.”

Henrik’s good eye fluttered open. It fell upon Anti, and a whimper escaped Henrik’s throat.

“Look, it’s Jack.” Anti laughed, pointing with his knife to the man chained to the opposite wall.

Henrik’s eye moved across the room and found Jack. But there was no joy visible on his face. Instead Henrik closed his eye and a sob escaped his mouth.

“C'mon,” Anti prompted, evilly. “He’s right there. Don’t you wanna run to him, Henrik?”

Jack yanked amd pulled against his restraints. He could not bare to witness this. It hurt him.

Anti continued. “Oh wait,” he laughed. “You’re legs are broken.”

Anti gripped Henrik’s jaw gently and turned it toward him. Henrik cringed as if it hurt him. He opened his good eye half way and stared into Anti’s.

“Everything is broken.”

“Stop it, Anti! Stop!” Jack cried. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks. His pulls on the restraints became weaker as he sank to his knees. “Don’t hurt him anymore. Please!” He begged.

Ignoring Jack’s pleas, Anti continued speaking to Henrik softly. “You know it will be over soon now, Henrik, you should be happy. You should smile.”

Anti brought his knife up to Henrik’s right cheek. Henrik sqeezed his eye shut and weakly tried to pull away from Anti. But Anti still had hold of his jaw, and all he had to do was tighten his grip a little, and Henrik stopped his feeble struggling.

“Hold still, doctor.” Anti laughed. With the sharp tip of his knife, Anti dug into Henrik’s bruised skin just under his eye. He dragged it down, cutting a vertical line half way down his cheek. He lifted his knife and drew an identical line directly to the the left on the first. Fresh blood leaked out of the cuts and dripped down Henrik’s cheek. The blood streamed down to his chin where it dropped off and landed on his already stained lab coat.

Henrik did not fight back, he did not even lift his arm. All he did… all he could do was cringe and whimper helplessly.

Anti readjusted his hand, exposing more of Henrik’s check. He placed his knife beneath Henrik’s right nostril. Anti took great pleasure in carving a semicircle from Henrik’s nostril to the the side of the second verticle line he drew. He cut through Henrik’s upper lip and through the trails of blood created by the two other lines.

Finally, after one tortuous minute, Anti took his knife away from Henrik’s face, and admired his masterpiece. He smiled broadly and giggled as his work.

Anti then turned to Jack, who was on his knees trying in vain to control his sobs. Anti turned Henrik’s freshly cut face toward Jack so he too could see his art.

Seeing what Anti had cut into helpless Henrik’s face, so mortified Jack to the point that he gagged.

A smile. A cartoony, bloody smile was carved onto Henrik’s right cheek. Blood continued to leak out of the slits that were the eyes, and blended them into the semicircle that was the mouth. Even more blood fell from that. Making it appear all the more demented.

“You sick bastard.” Jack choked.

Anti shrugged. He released Henrik’s jaw and his head feel back on his shoulder, the fresh blood from his lip dropping into his slightly open mouth.

“Well, Jack,” Anti sighed. “I just think he should smile, his suffering is just about done.”

Jack stared into Anti’s cold eyes. And begged between sobs; “Please, Anti, please! Don’t kill him! He didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Boo-hoo, Jack.” Anti mocked his sadness. He positioned his knife on Henrik’s jugular, and held his jaw up again. “Boo-hoo.”

“Wait!” Jack screamed as loud as he could manage.

Anti’s grip tightened on his knife and Henrik’s jaw, causing him to groan.

Anti glanced sideways at Jack. “What?” He demanded, furious at Jack for interupting him.

“P-please Let me-”

“‘Say goodbye?’” Anti chuckled, cutting Jack off. He glanced at Henrik’s broken body and smirked.

Anti rose to his feet. Henrik’s head fell limp again. “Fine.”

He walked up to Jack and gripped the shackles around his wrist. Jack flinched. Then, the chains glitched off of Jack’s wrist and clattered to the concrete ground.

Jack did not hesitate to marvel at lapse in physics. As soon as the restraints were off, Jack sprinted around Anti. He ran to Henrik and slid on his knees to his side.

Jack gripped his friend’s shoulder and shook him. “Henrik! It’s me. It’s Jack! You’re okay. I’m here.”

Henrik winced. “J-jack…s..top.”

Jack ceased shaking him. It obviously hurt him. He examined Henrik’s broken body with his eyes. It looked even worse up close. Almost all his pasty white skin had been coverged to blue and purple bruises. None of the cuts Anti had given him were deep enough to kill him, Jack noticed. Henrik’s lip was still bleeding from the smiley face Anti had draw. Close up, Jack saw that Henrik’s lips were cracked and pale, as if he had not had anything to drink in a long time.

Jack covered his mouth with his other hand, fighting back a waterfall of tears. “I’m so sorry, Henrik… I’m so… sorry.”

Henrik blinked, and kept his eye closed. “It’s not…y-your…f…fault.”

Jack gasped as tears streamed from his eyes. He could not help it, could not control it.

Jack lunged foward and wrapped his arms around Henrik in a tight embrace. Jack cried into his torn shoulder.

PART 2 COMING SOON!! (I HIT MAX LENGTH!!) Part 2 will be posted right after this one in fact!!

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #antisepticeye #antisepticeye fanfiction #dr sneeplestein #henrik von schneeplestein #fanfiction #fanfic

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

If not now, when? (Rajila) - Pichitinha

A/N: hi there! I’m an old veteran writing fanfiction but this is my very first try not only with this ship or drag queens but also with rpf, so criticize but be nice pls :) Anyhow, there’s a tremendous lack of Rajila fics and I took it upon myself to write a very cliche and used plot because why not. Hope you like it, I’m still debating whether or not to post it in AO3. PS. yes, the title is from the Incubus song, but I just like the title, it’s not a songfic to the song in any way, shape or form.

The first time they kissed wasn’t really a proper kiss. Season four had just finished airing and some of the girls from season 2, 3 and 4 were at a party to get to know each other better. Manila was still dating Sahara, unaware of what the future would bring really soon, and she was happy. They were all at Sharon’s place as she had just won the season and offered to host, and Manila and Sahara actually spent most of their time talking to Sharon and Alaska about their “drag couple"status instead of mingling with the others.

At some point of the night, as expected, almost all of them were wasted. With that, the idea of playing spin the bottle as if they were teenagers happened. And due to the alcohol levels, they all said yes.

So that is actually the first time she ever kissed Raja. A mere peck on the lips in a group circle, with Sahara sitting right next to her, laughing. That is also the first time she ever kissed Raven, Alaska and even Shangela. The difference is, for the other three, that is also the last time.

"I gotta get laid.” Karl says suddenly from his position on the couch where he had been so quiet and still for the past thirty minutes that Sutan had fully believed he was sleeping.

“Er…” He’s not really sure how to respond, if he’s being honest. It’s been some time since Sahara’s passing, but Karl’s emotions are still unpredictable - as they should be. One day he’ll be fine and out and smiling, the other he’ll need to lock the doors and close all the blinds and just cry by himself. It’s understandable and Sutan tries to help him no matter what he needs, it’s just difficult sometimes figuring out what that is.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive.” Karl says as if reading Sutan’s mind. “You know I miss Antoine in every way possible, every day. But I also… it’s been a while, you know. And I know people grieve in different ways and times and all that. And I know it’s horrible that I’m even thinking about sleeping with someone else. I shouldn’t even be thinking about sex right now. But I am. Because I miss him. I miss him so much, in every aspect of our relationship, including sex. And I just… I don’t know.”

As hard as it is for Sutan to figure out what to say, he tries. “I don’t think it’s insensitive. I think it’s normal. But I also think you’re still feeling angry about what happened. And I think this is a rash decision and that if you go out tonight looking for a random dude, you’ll be sorry tomorrow. So maybe you should wait until the need to do so doesn’t come together with this need to explain yourself, because that in itself is a sign that you’re not a 100% ok with this yet.”

Karl sits up to look at him. “That is weirdly eloquent.”

Sutan shrugs. “I try.”

“It’s really difficult, you know.” Manila sighs. “Like, really fucking difficult.”

“I know.”

They stay quiet for a few more minutes and this time Karl does fall asleep.

Sutan is glad he’ll rest for a bit, and he hopes that things will get easier for his friend sooner rather than later.

The second time they kiss they really do kiss for real, but it’s only that and it’s for show. They’re at a club with some other friends, and while they were mere audience that day, they were in full drag. They’re all dancing, and laughing, and drinking and the thought of finding trade isn’t really in any of their minds yet, the night way too young to go home so soon, even if for a fuck.

“You okay, Nila?” Raja asks when she sees her friend with yet another glass in her hands. Manila has always liked her alcohol - she actually usually drinks them all under the table, surprisingly - but she seems too out of herself this time.

To Raja’s extreme shock, her eyes water a little. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Well, it doesn’t look like it.”

Manila shakes her head. “No, no, you don’t get it. I’m fine. I feel fine. And that's… oh god. Am I bad for feeling fine? Is it too soon? God I am a horrible person.”

“Oh my god, Manila. You are not a horrible person, you are human. No one expects you to hurt forever, Sahara wouldn’t want that. You have your right to feel fine and to want to move on and actually do it, ok? So whether you want to leave today with someone or not, you can’t feel bad about it. You hear me?”

Manila just nods.

“Look, there’s a bunch of people over there looking at us. They seem to be fans. Do you want to go over? It always cheers you up.”

“Oh god, yes. I need some fan love.”

They tell their friends where they’re going and move over to the other side of the club. Sure enough they’re fans and they seem ecstatic to see the drag queens walking towards them. There are lots of pictures and shrieks and giggles and Raja and Manila are posing for their lives. At some point, maybe due to the adrenaline of meeting such devoted fans, maybe due to the alcohol, or maybe even due to the thrill of taking a step towards the unexpected, Manila asks Raja to kiss her. And maybe Raja has all of those feelings too, because she says yes without any hesitation. Their lips meet and, unlike last time, they actually move for a little in an innocent but strong kiss that makes their fans scream and shout before they eventually part ways.

They laugh and thank the fans then go back to their friends and actually comment on how good of a kisser the other one is, but it’s all in good fun and it’s normal and not awkward at all and soon they’re back to talking about the same shit they were talking before with the rest of the group, the kiss practically forgotten in the midst of the alcohol and all the memories of the night.

Raja leaves with a guy, Manila doesn’t, but it doesn’t really matter because that was just a regular night and the next day they’ll go back to their regular irregular lives and won’t really think about any of it.

“Ugh, I hate being a drag queen.” It’s five in the morning, they’re back at the hotel room they’re sharing after an exhausting show, and Raja all but throws herself on her bed after proclaiming those words.

“Right, miss America Drag Superstar. Gimme a break.”

“I’m tired.” She whines.

“You’re tired because you’re good, and you’re good because you love what you do.”

Raja smiles. “Please proceed with the compliments.”

Manila just throws her dress on Raja’s face.

Raja’s still laughing as she removes the other queen’s dress from her face, a little surprised it still smells like soap after so many hours of performing and, in Raja’s case, sweating.

“You were pretty amazing out there as well.” She compliments her best friend as she removes her makeup, Raja amazed that she has it in herself to actually move. Maybe she is getting old.

“I never said you were amazing, but thanks.” Manila replies with a smile.

It’s Raja’s turn to throw the dress. “Bitch.”

They fall into a comfortable silence as Manila pretty much completely de-drags herself and Raja lazies around in the bed. She finally gets up to change when she realizes she needs to use the washroom and that immediately reminds her body that she needs to untuck right now.

She returns from the bathroom, completely in Sutan’s skin and ready for bed, and notices Manila - Karl - is sitting on his bed looking at her direction as if waiting for him to appear.

“You know you’re my best friend, right?”

Sutan raises his eyebrows at the statement. Karl is way too drunk and yet at the same time he looks way too sober to be talking like this.

“I know. You’re mine.”

“No, I mean… you really are my best friend. None of this ‘I love you’ bullshit that a queen says to another after a fake hug. I mean, for real. Even if sometimes we might go through some time without speaking… you’re my best friend.”

“I know. And I also really mean it, you’re mine. Well, you know, you and David. But you get the gist.”

Karl laughs. “That’s nice to hear.”

Sutan can’t help but feel Karl is weird.

“Are you okay?”

Karl just nods and lays down on the bed. “It’s probably the weed.”

Sutan laughs with him, but sooner than he expected he hears Karl’s breathing normalizing and he knows he’s sleeping.

He lets his friend rhythmic sounds lure him to sleep as well, and soon enough it’s just a quiet hotel room again.

The third time they kiss they really do kiss for real, and it’s definitely not for show. Similar to last time, it also starts with a club night. This time though, they’re both themselves, no Raja or Manila gracefulness to cover for their drunken selves in regular T-shirts and denim pants.

They’re out with fellow queens, and if they paid attention they’d realize it’s practically the same bunch from the time they had that innocent peck together, but quite frankfully attention to the others is the last thing either of them is doing.

There’s something about the exact amount of alcohol they each had drunk combined with exactly how much weed they each had smoked that brought them to the edge, one step before the line, one after. They’ve always been playful, they’ve always been cute, they’ve always been handsy. But one thing that Sutan never had any issues doing and somehow can’t seem to today is to tear his eyes away from his friend’s face. It’s just his face, same as always, plain and clean without an inch of makeup, and still there’s something about the haze of numbness and relaxation in his eyes that fascinates him.

They’re standing together, side by side, and constantly touching has always been in their routine, but this absolute need to look into Sutan’s eyes - and the absolute fierce response he’s getting every time from the other man’s pupils - that in itself is making Karl’s knees weak. He never thought about Sutan that way - he’s not thinking it now either - but it had been a while since he last got any action with someone and the closeness they always shared seemed to be a little bit heavier today.

They’re dancing and laughing and hands are touching everywhere, but that’s normal, that’s what they do, not only with each other but with several of their friends as well. Today, however, it’s only between them, so much so that at some point they completely lose track of where everyone else is. It’s them and their nerves and their shivers and this constant need to be looking at each other. A gazing contest.

They step out of the dance floor, trying to look for their friends but not really because they can’t glance away from each other. They’re drunk enough but they still head for the bar, and then once they each have another drink in their hands they go to a corner to try to get some light to grab more weed from wherever it is that they stashed it. And maybe it’s the extra sip of alcohol, maybe it’s the extra drag of marijuana, maybe it’s the new light and the way their eyes shine differently underneath it, but Sutan all but drops everything he’s holding and moves his hands to Karl’s face, pressing his lips to the other man’s almost in desperation.

Karl responds immediately, also letting everything go and combing his fingers through Sutan’s extremely soft hair, an involuntary gasp leaving his throat. They’re kissing like there’ll never be another chance for them to do so, their lips desperate, their tongues trying for some action, their hands merely holding the other’s head close. Their bodies are not pressed together, their hands are not roaming and discovering, their lips never go anywhere other than the other’s lips themselves. It’s a heavy, fierce, strong kiss, but that’s all that is is.

Someone bumps into them at some point, breaking the space and time they had been locked in, and they part with heavy breathing, swollen lips and dilated pupils. Now more than ever they can’t seem to look away, not sure of what to do but not unsure either as they’re not really thinking about what’s next, only about now.

It feels like hours later when it’s probably just a few minutes that David approaches them with drinks in his hands and a happy smile, unaware of what was going on and too drunk and stoned to notice the atmosphere.

They accept the drink and the company and move back to where their friends are. Their gaze still searches for the other and their breathing never really goes back to normal, but they proceed with their night and try to have fun with their friends.

They leave separately and don’t really talk about any of it before leaving. None of them has company this time, though.

“So, how about ice cream?”

“Could be.” Sutan replies carelessly holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he tries to place a few stitches on a shirt. “Anything with chocolate, please.”

“Who knew that not only you eat but you also consume fat.”

“It’s the chocolate that gives me this smooth brown skin, honey.”

Karl laughs lightly along with Sutan, and they both pretend it’s as normal as it’s ever been. Karl is at the store picking up some wine for the both of them because they have a show together soon and they want to discuss details - and they don’t really do anything without the company of a good glass of wine - and he decides that some dessert would also be a good idea, and they talk about it the same way they talk about everything, that they’ve always talked about everything, and they’re both excellent at pretending that the other’s undertone is just as it’s always been.

It was easy to ignore - to forget even - their first little innocent middle school like kiss. It had even been easy to dismiss the kiss they decided to give the fans one day when they were feeling low. It is however extremely taxing to ignore the heated passion with which their lips had encountered the other day.

It’s been weeks and yet Sutan’s lips had been so strong that Karl can still feel a ghost of the sensation whenever he lets his guard down for more than a second. It’s not like he has feelings for his best friend - or maybe he does, he honestly doesn’t know - but the kiss. He had never kissed someone so passionately before without it escalating to a certain degree. Never a kiss had been just a kiss but also so much more at the same time. He thinks constantly about this, about how it felt, how foreign and yet familiar it was, about how he wants to do it again, mostly out of curiosity even. He wonders if that’s just how Sutan kisses, if that’s just his style, and if it is than it’s no wonder he’s known to mess around. He knows what he’s doing.

He shakes his thoughts away and clears his throat. “Huh, okay, so I’ll see you in about an hour, ok?”

“Sound good.” Sutan replies before getting his phone of his ear and ending the call.

He takes a deep breath and runs his hands over his face and through his hair. He’s still not entirely sure of what came over him that day to assault Karl like that, and he doesn’t even want to blame the booze or the weed because he’s damn well used to both, even their combination. He’s never been one for making stupid decisions while drunk - and even so, was it stupid? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he can’t really stop thinking about it and he wants- what does he want, actually? He wants to take action, to do something, but he has no idea what, when, how. He’s so caught up in the kiss, the reasons behind it, the way if felt, the consequences of it, he can barely think of anything else and that is simply not acceptable. He feels like kissing Karl again. He thinks he should. He maybe even wants it. Or does he? Maybe the kiss was just really good and he wanted a repeat for that, not because it’s Karl. Or maybe it is because Karl. Maybe it’s even both. But whatever it is, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he has to get over what happened and he doesn’t know how.

So, as usual, they have a normal night with their wine and their talk and their laughter, and they never let it get weird, but they don’t talk about it either.

Karl ends up sleeping over and he takes the couch while Sutan retires in his bedroom, pretending that this isn’t the first time this has happened as they usually share a bed without any problems, and even though they both think about crossing that door, they merely turn over and close their eyes.

The fourth time they kiss, they throw caution off of the window and just do what they want to. And what they want to do is a lot.

There’s no club, there’s no music, no alcohol and no weed.

Karl called early in the evening and asked if Sutan had plans that night. He was adamant in his question and Sutan had been so surprised he replied quickly with a no without even thinking about it. “I’ll be there in fifteen” was all Karl replied with before hanging up, and Sutan was left for five of those fifteen minutes in sort of a shock.

He’s not used to serious, assertive Karl, and he knows that for him to act like that, he needed to talk about something serious. He paced around and grabbed a few things that might have been on the floor while he waited, but true to his words Karl is at his door exactly fifteen minutes later.

He marches in when Sutan opens the door, not even saying hello, and turns around to stare at the other man’s eyes with crossed arms once he reaches the living room.

“Is… everything ok?” Sutan asked, his voice much smaller than it ever is, and it sounds foreign even to his own ears.

Karl just laughs humorlessly and strides over in big steps. Once he reaches Sutan, there’s not much time for the taller man to react in anyway, because sooner than any reaction Karl’s lips touch his and once again his hands move to his hair.

He doesn’t even need a split second to understand what is happening, he gets it right away and moves to do his part sneaking his arms around the other man’s waist. This time their bodies glue together and this time they’re both very aware of what they’re doing, nothing at all in their systems to possibly inebriate them other than how amazing kissing each other feels like.

The only immediate thing in Karl’s mind as they practically attack each other’s mouths is closer. He’s holding onto him fiercely, trying as much as he possibly can to minimize any space between them, and Sutan seems to be doing the same thing with arms around his waist pulling him into himself at every single second. It’s still not enough. In desperation, he presses Sutan against the wall behind them, his arm hitting the furniture on the side which he completely does not care for because Sutan groans and it is everything Karl needed but did not know. All he cares is the man between him and the concrete and making sure that every single piece of body that could be touching, effectively is. He never thought he’d want Sutan this way, he’d always been happy with the amazing friendship they shared, but as their bodies continue to move against each other, fast lips and warm breaths, Karl simply doesn’t want to do anything else other than this forever.

For a second he thinks that that’s not how one should feel about their best friend. The next second that thought is gone because Sutan’s hands move down to his ass and squeeze it.

Sutan is used to being on the other side of the wall-pressing arrangement, but he’s not about to complain when Karl’s impending closeness suddenly frees his arms and he sees himself with two empty hands and a whole lot of Karl he can explore with them. Before he can even think his hands act on their own and travel to the one place he’s always dreamed about touching. As he squeezes his ass the shorter man sort of whimpers into his mouth and it’s such a delicious sound that his body isn’t sure how to react to it. It does it by thrusting his crotch.

That is when every single barrier that they might still have on breaks down. Karls hands move down from his hair and find their way under his shirt, touching, squeezing and scratching any inch of Sutan’s lean body they can possibly reach, and it’s when his fingers find his niples that Sutan moves his lips down Karl’s neck and presses kiss after kiss, bite after bite, making sure he leaves several marks, some that will fade in minutes and some that will take days.

Sutan isn’t sure where he’s breathing from anymore as he’s pretty sure there’s no air left in his lungs. That need vanishes from his mind, leaving in his brain only things related to Karl, like how his skin feels, how his moans sound, how his body seems to absolutely love doing what they’re doing.

Karl gets tired of the limited actions he has under Sutan’s shirt and moves his hands to its hem to remove it. Sutan tugs at his t-shirt when that happens and like a synchronized dance they each move to remove their own shirt in one second before crashing back together, making sure their chests touch and that the warmth of their lusted skin can be felt by the other.

It is then that Sutan decides he can’t take it anymore. His pants are impossibly tight but still what leaves him undeniably needy is how he can feel Karl’s bulge in his own pants. He pushes Karl just a little, trying to move them to the bedroom, but maybe the universe takes that as a sign because it’s at that exact second that Karl’s phone starts ringing terribly loud from the sofa where he left it and the atmosphere they had dissolves in an instant.

They pull apart, eyes hungry for more and completely intoxicated by what just happened, but the ringing brings Karl back to reality and he picks up the device. It’s his sister, Sutan can see it on the screen from where he’s standing, and he knows that they have a rule to only text unless it’s an emergency.

After a few spoken words with his sister Karl leaves in a hurry even though he assures him that everything is fine - Sutan isn’t sure if he’s strictly talking about the phone call - and Sutan is left with an empty apartment and a hard-on he doesn’t think will fully go away if he takes care of it by himself.

He lays down, pictures of Karl in his mind, tinglings from his touch in his body, and stays up all night.

Fuck.

It would have been easy to just pretend nothing ever happened and move on. They’re friends, they’re best friends, and they’re good at it.

Thing is, they’re apparently also very good at making out. Granted, they only did it once, but it was a huge success. It would have been a touchdown had they not been interrupted.

Sutan calls Karl the following afternoon and Karl’s heart expands in his chest when the first thing Sutan asks is if his sister is okay. He smiles through the million thoughts in his head and explains that yes, everything’s fine, his niece just had a little asthma scare and had to run to the hospital and his sister was scared because her husband is travelling. But his niece is fine and they’re already back at her house and everything is under control.

Sutan seems relieved at that, and Karl can’t help the butterflies in his stomach when it’s so clear how much Sutan cares. The older man sends his regards, demands Karl to call him if they need anything, and says that if and when he wants to talk, he’ll be waiting.

Karl thanks him and hangs up, clutching the phone in his hands and thinking back to the night before and how up until the phone call he’d torn between regretting profusely what happened and wishing it would have gone further. He thinks back to Sutan’s words, to how much he seems to care - which he does, Karl’s always known that, they’ve been friends for years and Sutan had helped him with stuff like this a million times. Karl can see several of them flashing before his eyes, the notion that he always had someone there for him just now hitting him. He hasn’t felt that secure in another’s person trust and reliability since Antoine.

He stays the night at his sister and only leaves the next day when he’s sure everything is fine. He’s tired, he hasn’t showered in two days, and he’s terribly hungry. Still, he drives aimlessly and isn’t at all surprised when he finds himself in front of Sutan’s house.

He knocks on his door, half hoping he’ll answer and half hoping he won’t, but the tightness in his chest dissolves when Sutan opens the door, and without saying anything, without asking if he has company or of he’s busy, he throws himself into Sutan’s arms and just hugs him.

The taller man hugs him back, using his foot to close the door behind them. They stay like that for what seems like an eternity, Karl just enjoying the company of the other man, his arms around him making him feel safe. He hasn’t forgotten the other night, but he doesn’t really think about that at the moment.

“Come on, let’s move to the couch.” Sutan suggests as he steps away from the embrace just a few inches. “You look exhausted.”.

Karl just nods and follows him to the living room. The TV is on some weird show on food network and they sit down practically cuddling. Karl almost tears up.

“It’s so stupid.” He says with a crying tone.

“It’s not stupid, babe.” Sutan replies easily. They’ve always used babe to talk to each other, so Karl tries not to think too much about it, even though he still does.

“She’s fine, she wasn’t ever in any real danger, my sister is just desperate. I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Okay, first. Your sister is not desperate, she’s a mom. That’s what they’re supposed to do.” Sutan squeezes his arm then, as if preparing for what he wants to say next. “And maybe this isn’t just about your niece… maybe it’s a whole mix of emotions. From, you know, things.”

They stay quiet then, looking at the TV and pretending to pay attention at the chef trying to cook using aluminum foil utensils.

Karl clear his throat and sinks deeper into Sutan’s side. “I do have… a bunch of feelings. From, you know, things.”

Sutan’s heart misses a beat. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They stay quiet for a while, enjoying each other’s company and trying to figure out what to say next, how to say it. Sutan opens and closes his mouth at least fifteen times. By the time he’s determined to say something, even if it’s stupid, he turns to look at Karl’s face and search for his gaze.

What he meets is a sleeping man, snuggling to his arm and looking way too vulnerable.

He and Karl didn’t really fix anything, but with the warmth of the sort-of-philippine guy on his side and the sound of his rhythmic breathing, Sutan has no doubt that they will.

Sutan smiles in spite of himself, a goofy grin adorning his face. He sighs contently and turns his attention back to the TV.

They’ll talk when Karl wakes up.

The fifth time they kiss feels like the first and the thousandth and also all the others in between. They hadn’t really talked like they planned - it’s kind of hard to, when you wake up cuddling a guy and he’s looking at you like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, his hand caressing your hair.

Looking up at Sutan with hazy eyes, sleep still heavy on his shoulder, Karl can only say one thing, “I think I like you.”

Sutan smiles down at him and furthers his hands into his soft locks, “I think I like you, too.”

There’s not much else that can follow that except a kiss. Sutan uses the hand he already has on his hair to bring their faces together and their lips meet as if this is the most natural thing in their lives, as if they were meant to be doing this for a long a time already.

Perhaps they were.

Karl brings him closer, Sutan’s weight sinking him a little bit further down the sofa and semi lying them down. This is much calmer, much less desperate than the last time, perhaps because there’s a certainty that they’ll get to see things through today, or maybe even because they are sure this won’t be the last time.

Sutan lips are much softer but somehow much more intense than they had been before. It feels like he’s trying to savour every piece he can touch with them: his lips, his cheeks, his neck, his shoulders. Karl is not one to just let the other person take charge, but there’s just something in the way this feels, as if his whole body is breathing out a finally that renders him still with eyes closed as every sensation he thought this would cause and many more he hadn’t even imagined could exist overpower him.

When Sutan’s mouth goes back to his and slightly demands a bit more of an active participation from his side, it’s like Karl wakes up. He realizes where he is, what he’s doing, the opportunity that he hadn’t really know he wanted so much but really, really does. This is too golden of a moment for him to just lay down. Sutan’s mouth is fierce, his body is strong, his skin is soft and his erection is warm against his own. He has to do something, anything.

“Bed?” He asks hastily when he realizes that in the couch he can’t really turn them around. Even though Sutan seems more than happy to just stay where they are he nods his head and in an abrupt movement locks Karl’s legs on his torso and gets up.

“Woah. Who knew someone so old and so skinny could be so strong?” Karl jokes as he locks his arms on his shoulders and searches for his eyes.

Sutan scouls but there’s a small smile on his lips and a big one on his eyes. “Bitch.”

He throws Karl on the bed and follows suit covering his body with his. Karl locks his legs around his waist again and uses the momentum to turn them over. After a tiny moment of perplexity Sutan’s eyes just shine as he moves his arms up as if saying go ahead.

And go ahead he does.

His hands roam anywhere he can find under Sutan’s shirt, quickly tugging at it and forcing Sutan to sit and disregard it on the floor. He’s not particularly muscular but he’s lean and his skin is so damn smooth. Karl’s fingers practically skate over his torso and for a split second he wonders how his lips would feel there. Another second later he realizes that there’s nothing stopping him from experimenting and checking it himself right then and there.

He does it, then, lowering his head and kissing every inch of skin he possibly can, careful to avoid the most sensitive places as he first wants to explore for himself so that later on he can focus on the man breathing heavily below him. His hands continue to caress the skin his lips aren’t touching and when he decides to finally stop neglecting him and moves his lips to his niple, Sutan’s arms move and his hands lock in his hair.

“Shit.” His voice is sultry and shadowed by lust, and even though Karl chuckles he can feel a shrill run down his spine at the tone of the other man. He moves up then, eager to touch and kiss every inch and frustrated that he simply can’t kiss everywhere at once. His mouth finds Sutan’s in yet another desperate kiss and almost as if they rehearsed they both sigh into it. Sutan’s hands now find the hem of his shirt and tug at it indicating for Karl to remove it and he does so eagerly, desperate to discard all the fabric still between them.

Sutan sits up then and pulls him closer, their bare chests pressed together and their crotches perfectly aligned to cause them both to gasp. “As much as I love foreplay, I really need to speed this up.” Sutan’s voice is raspy and Karl’s glad for the words he’s saying because he feels the same way. Normally he’d be all in for a torturously long foreplay section, but he and Sutan still had a lot of pent-up excitement from their last little section and Karl knows that from his part he’s been thinking about it constantly since their kiss at the club weeks and weeks ago.

“Agreed. Get naked.”

They part their hips just enough to be able to strip down their pants and underwear, and while they’d seen each other naked several times before - privacy and drag queen touring don’t exactly go together - this is the first time they really look.

“I see why you’re always gloating.” Karl jokes.

“Oh, shut up.” Sutan replies with a laugh and takes this moment to throw Karl over on his side and tangle their legs. “You on the other hand don’t seem to gloat enough.”

Karl knows he’s joking in the same way he did, but he can’t stop the flush that rises to his cheeks. “Shut up.”

This is new to Sutan, the intimacy. He’s all about passion and intensity, but reserved to a briefing longevity. He had two long-term relationships before discovering himself completely and becoming who he is now, and after that moment every time he tried something of the sorts it ended up in disaster. He could never commit to it, he never felt like he should, like he wanted to. So to know the person he was about to sleep with, to already be familiar with their body without ever having had sex, to know what the different sounds they made meant on their first try, to be fully and truly invested in what they took out of this experience instead of always half focusing on himself was new and exciting and it sent shivers down his spine and butterflies down his stomach in a clear indication that his physical desire wasn’t the only thing acting up in there, not even the main one.

They’ve discussed sexual experiences and preferences many times before, some drunk and some not, so Sutan knows lots of things that Karl likes which are great to know the first time you’re about to have sex with someone. For example he knows they’re both vers, but Karl really likes bottoming whereas Sutan doesn’t really do it all that often if the person doesn’t feel right. And Karl might be the rightest person for that as Sutan actually gets extremely excited by the idea, but he’s usually a top and the man beneath him prefers bottoming so he intends on fucking him like he himself has never fucked anyone and in a way he’s hoping Karl has never been fucked either.

Sutan is brought back to reality when Karl’s hand touch him and Sutan feels a whole different kind of excitement. It runs through his entire body and he can’t help the curse that leaves his mouth at how natural it feels to have Karl’s hand around him and how wonderful it actually is. He tries to smoothly move them closer to the edge of the bed without separating, that way he can reach for a condom and lube inside his bedside table without breaking the contact that Karl’s hand makes with his member and Karl’s lips make with his chest.

He throws the lube and condom on the bed and pushes Karl along, his back hitting the mattress right beside the new thrown items, and before the man can say anything Sutan lowers down and takes him into his mouth. Karl just says fuck as his hands fly to Sutan’s hair and although the older man has always liked - and is always complimented on - giving blowjobs, he’s truly trying for his best one yet here, because if there’s one certainty in this whole situation is that Karl has to leave this bed one hundred percent satisfied.

Sutan always thought that Karl would be the type to be noisy in bed. Turns out he is. That is actually good as Sutan finds it fairly disappointing to give head to someone that doesn’t react and therefore doesn’t let you know how it’s going, so he loves the little noises the man above him makes and he is able to pick up his closeness based on his high pitched tone and the way he starts pulling his hair. He lets go then, Karl’s eyes opening up at the sudden lost of contact, his pupils blown wide in pleasure.

Karl rehearses saying something but Sutan’s fast and already has his fingers ready to work him up, and Karl just marvels at the feeling as the moment they’ve been waiting for practically weeks’ finally arriving. They’re both breathless and ready and at least on Karl’s part really really horny, so when Sutan finally eases himself into him, even if slowly, Karl breathes out in relief and interlocks his fingers on his hair as he pulls him a little bit closer.

They find their rhythm pretty quickly and Karl is delighted to learn that Sutan is also a very noisy lover. He usually prefers to be on all fours for this, but he is extremely thankful to be able to see Sutan’s face and to pull him closer from time to time even if the height difference makes it difficult for them to kiss properly. He hooks his legs around his waist and throws his head back as he’s now thrusting a whole lot deeper and reaching the spot he wanted him to.

He feels his orgasm building quickly and given Sutan’s sounds and erratic movements he’s pretty sure the other man is also close to his release. It’s quicker than they’d have prefered, but after all the waiting and longing they aren’t really surprised. They come one after the other, low but long grunts followed by a simple fuck and the other’s drag name, and soon they’re just evening their breaths. Sutan gets up dispose of the condom and Karl just takes a random shirt to clean himself.

Karl remains where he is, sort of lying sideways in the bed as opposed to the right direction, and when Sutan returns he just lies right next to him and they move towards each other, interlocking theirs limbs immediately and automatically sort of cuddling.

“So that was interesting.” Karl says searching for his gaze.

“It sure was.” Sutan replies easily, a light smile on his lips. “We can talk about it over lunch, are you hungry?”

“Starving”.

It is sort of expected that things get weird between you and your best friend when you’ve been dancing around the sexual tension for ages and then finally fuck. So obviously Karl finds it odd when things are as normal as ever, even more so than they used to be. After the sex they took a quick shower - which really was just a shower because Karl hadn’t eaten in forever and his brain finally caught up to that - and went out to eat and Karl only realized that they held hands the entire way over to the restaurant when he let go to pull his chair. It feels so easy and so natural that Karl wonders if they’re idiots for never thinking about it before.

From that moment on, everything goes on smoothly. For a week it’s like a honeymoon phase, they don’t really talk about it and therefore don’t really label it, but they spend every free minute together and hands are held, skin is touched, kisses are given and sex is had. Karl is happy at the arrangement, always one for commitment and relationships, and there’s no denying he feels very strongly about Sutan by the way his heart beats whenever he thinks about them being a them. He worries about Sutan sometimes, a few milliseconds whenever their gazes misalign, about how the other man had told him time and time before that he’s not really a relationship kind of guy. Still Sutan seems happy, maybe happier than Karl remembers seeing him before, and even though he’s definitely biased in that view he sticks with it.

It’s been a week and a half of that, of them and their bubble and whatever it is that they’re doing, when they put on their drags and go to a party at Raven’s house. It’s Jujubee’s birthday and Raven offered to host because her house is bigger and given the event a lot of their drag sisters are attending.

Raja and Manila leave the house together with clasped hands as they have been doing every day and it’s only when they reach Raven’s house that Manila is aware of that fact. She’s not sure on how to proceed, but Raja just keeps walking to the door as if this is perfectly normal, so she just takes a deep breath and follows.

They enter without ringing the doorbell and the house is already half full. Their hands are still clasped and they walk through everyone on the way saying hi until they reach the first drag queens they can find. It’s a mess of hugs and kisses and happy birthday to Juju who is with them at the moment, and who also seems to be the only one to notice their joined fingers.

“Ohhh, what is going on over here?” She motions to their joining point, which catches the attention of some of the closer queens like Raven and Trixie, but not the entire group.

Manila thinks for a second but she doesn’t know what the proper answer is. She opens her mouth but closes it immediately when Raja’s voice reaches her ear. “I think the kids call it ‘dating’.”

Jujubee squeals and Manila can faintly hear Raven and Trixie almost synchronized saying “oh my god, finally”, but all of that is lost in her head as Raja’s words buzz in. She turns to look at him, his persona in full Raja glory, and even though it’ll mess up their lipstick and they just got there, she kisses her.

That is enough for the rest of the group to turn their way and for conclusions to be drawn already. Manila doesn’t care. Raja’s hands are on her back and their lips are mashed together and they seem to both be on the same page.

“I think I’m actually in love with you.” Manila says as soon as they part scared she might lose courage if she waits, not really caring whether or not she’ll hear it back.

“I think I’m actually in love with you, too.” Raja replies with a smile, both their voices too low for everyone to hear, but their intensity enough for them to understand it was important.

Everyone cheers as they share one last quick kiss, Detox even yells “get a room”, and Manila’s heart is so light for the first time in so long that even through all of the laughter and voices she manages to reply with a grin.

“Maybe we will.”

fin

#rajila #pichitinha #raja gemini #manila luzon #smut #tw drinking #rpdr fanfiction #canon compliant

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spontaneoushiccups-blog · 6 years

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Indulgent Divulgence?

*Language Warning*

This whole experience has been such an interesting human experiment. Aside from the obvious emotional roller coaster we have personally been through as a family- it’s been fascinating to watch other people react. This is the first, or I guess I should say the most, really serious life and death thing that has happened to me, to us. I have always been an extreme extrovert, shocking people with my language and opinions since basically I learned how to speak. As I have aged and the sometimes unobviously rigid parameters of propriety have burned me- I have learned when it’s better to just keep my mouth shut- though it often requires special occasion. (I’m certain some people who know me and read that have already balked. “When might that be?”) It took being 29 weeks pregnant to write my first blog post about what’s been happening, but I think a lot of that delay was the moving of the goal posts. It took a long time for us to really understand clearly what was happening. When it first became clear to us that something was really wrong and that we were looking at major health complications for the baby, my step-mom warned me that people would be weird. My twin half sisters were super preemies, so she had been through the NICU nightmare and saw firsthand how people twitched at the thought of a baby tangled up in tubes.

Babies are like these beacons of hope, these beautiful physical representations of the future, of promise, health, fertility, love, sex, procreation, LIFE. Anything else and it’s like a records being dragged backwards against the needle. It just seems unnatural. It ruins the music. And yet- anyone who has been down the road of miscarriage, infertility, poor prenatal diagnosis, and even regular old healthy pregnancy and childbirth and the debilitating fear that tends to go with it, knows that biology can be cruel, and she often is. It’s a darkness that once you’re privy to, you can’t unsee. I recently watched Boss Baby with my 4 year old and I thought of the cartoon mom, “that kid is 7 and they are just having their second? Ugh she probably had some kind of fertility issues. Poor thing.” Or now that I am the size of a large gestating mammalian creature, as I waddle unsubtly down the street, I notice sometimes women avert their gaze, cast their eyes downward like they don’t want to look directly at me and I think, “Oh no. I hope my giant belly isn’t bringing up awful feelings of some post traumatic pregnancy issue- maybe I should tell them it’s not perfect.” But I don’t.

I remember after going through a miscarriage last year being stunned at how painful it was compared to how painful I thought it would be (because every pregnant woman imagines in the long 12-14 weeks before you’re out of the “safe zone” what it might be like to lose the baby.) Based on movies and the general shushed untruth that tends to go hand in hand with all things intimately related to reproduction in general, I didn’t understand how primally shattering that would feel. Though maybe no one does until they do. Everyone would say “it’s just the loss of promise” but it was more than that. It was the first time my body, my inner voice, my sense of confidence in the nature of things- my BIOLOGY completely betrayed me. I remember someone said to me on the phone “this isn’t a tragedy.” I hung up on them. It took months for me to even think about getting pregnant again, and even then I had to plan it six months out to be sure I was ready. I made it a conscious, extroverted effort to not be ashamed of my pain or my experience. To talk as openly as I could about it, no matter how uncomfortable it seemed to make people feel. (You know, in relevant context- I didn’t exactly wear a “ask me about my miscarriage” t-shirt- but...it’s not TOTALLY out of the realm of possibility that I might. Also I live in Portland so.)

1 in 3 women will have a miscarriage. The more I talked about it- the more those stories floated to the surface, and every woman who told me theirs still had that saddness in their eyes, no matter how long it had been, or how far along they were. They call it “suffering a miscarriage” for a reason. In many ways I am grateful for having already learned, and not that long ago, that my sense of what nature should be could be wrong, that the floor can fall out. It's been helpful to know that before we started on this current path with Iris. Somehow, while all this has been obviously painful- it wasn’t as surprising.

Social Media is a funny thing for hyper-extroverts like myself because the self doubt and fear of scrutiny or thought of people I love being embarrassed on my behalf generally doesn’t sink in ‘til a few days after the post. Wait- I am brave for sharing? Does that imply that I am brave for telling people and putting it out there despite what everyone thinks? Oh god, what does everyone think? Oh no- am I exploiting this awful situation for the brief feel-good of a "like"? Or So-and-so didn’t “like” the post, or say anything to me about it. Are they ashamed of my post? Too intimate? Too far?

We had another echocardiogram last week and it was really the first time we got to leave that awful poorly-lit clinic not deflated, in tears. They told us her A/V Valves and Pulmonary arteries are looking strong and healthy, we got to see her sweet face up close, so clear now with her little turned up nose and plump lips, and weighing in at nearly 5lbs it’s looking like she should rival or beat her sisters 8+ lb birth weight. All. Excellent. Things. A huge part of this challenge has been this subconscious inability to picture the future. I think any pregnant woman feels that way to a certain extent, but with this I can barely think past March, much less to preschool, teendom, adulthood? The end of pregnancy is so physically challenging that I feel like the excitement of the promise of your baby that’s just-around-the-corner helps to cushion the blow of the wait and the discomfort. When you aren’t exactly thrilled about the scary impending chapter, you’re just left with sore hips, insomnia, and a baby sea otter lodging its skull into your pelvis at the same time it wiggles it’s little toes up underneath your ribs. The high of the positive doctors visit quickly gave way to it’s sharper edge. Now that it was so easy to picture our big fat beautiful baby, it was also easier to picture them taking her from me; prodding and poking her, opening her chest, sedating her, all of the violent details sinking in leaving me feeling gutted.

I am the head of marketing for Portland Gay Men’s Chorus and we are embarking on a huge year for the company. Beijing Queer Chorus is coming to Portland for their first public performance in the U.S. and PGMC is headed to China in September as the first LGBTQ Chorus to tour there, ever. It’s a big deal because China isn’t exactly up to speed on equal rights when it comes to the gay community, (many members of the BQC still perform wearing masks to protect their identities) and the parallels of where they are today, and where the U.S. was in its early years of the company in the 1980’s are glaring. We are making a video to highlight those parallels and the historic significance of this year for the chorus. So I woke up last Saturday morning and had to go into work downtown to meet with the filmmaker and do the first batch of interviews, despite feeling cloaked with sadness. I knew it would be good to take my mind off things and get out of the house.

Gary was the first up in the interview chair and immediately launched into the raw realities of what it was like to be a gay man in the 70’s and 80’s in America. The unflinching history of being threatened constantly with violence, taught by his mother to walk less gay, losing scores of friends-that-had-become-family to AIDS (in the midst of being blamed for the epidemic) and the constant fight against all odds, just to live authentically. Harvey Milk told them to come out- come out to everyone you know despite what consequences it may bare because to live authentically is the only way to be free. Then they shot and killed him. The founding members made the conscious decision to put “Gay” in the organization name, despite how uncomfortable it made so many feel, because that’s who they were, that was the message they were spreading, and it required that for them, in the name of authenticity, to be acknowledged for who and what they really were. After a lifetime, and generations of suffering from being locked in a closet- so many had to learn by society widdling them down- to just say fuck it, and be their true selves at whatever cost. Anything else is prison.

I am so lucky that I love my job. A huge part of that I think is that I so deeply appreciate an environment with little to no bullshit. I found myself watching Gary’s interview feeling relieved and affirmed. Doing something bigger than yourself is always important for perspective, but doing something in the name of authenticity is imperative to human growth. While I completely understand not everyone is as extroverted as I am, I am confident in the ways I have chosen to handle this. To not be scared to talk about it.To be upfront with my experience and my feelings, despite trepidation of what others might think. If only for the hope that someone else out there- living with their own raw and real life situations, feeling trapped in their own closets, wearing their own kinds of masks to shield themselves from what society might think or do, that they might take comfort in knowing they’re not alone, either.

5 weeks til she is born.

ps- I would be remiss not to link to this concert. I will be in UT in the hospital with Iris- but if you're in Portland you should really go. March 17 & 18, Kaul Auditorium at Reed College. https://www.pdxgmc.org/concerts-tickets/

#CHD #chdawareness #pdxgmc #dilv

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stardustpubs · 4 years

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From Neverland

What does it mean to love someone? Do you have to sacrifice everything for the sake of their happiness? Will it come naturally over time? Are there things you have to change about yourself? How does it last forever? May be these are all the wrong questions to ask. May be it's the wrong perception of love. People often stereotypes love; but in actuality; love is diverse, a different case for everyone. Written in these pages is the final journal entry of a man who struggled to keep his love going, but instead, witnessed the death of his high school sweetheart from a deadly disease that had torn apart many. Being in love with someone for years until you are forced to move on whether you like it or not is no easy task. I guess forever is not enough to measure how one can love. A lifetime? May be. Probably. We might never know. These things should just be left aside as a superficial distant future. For all we know, love is boundless.

A dashing first attempt of a bittersweet love story that is relatable in some way or another.

A/N: Picture does not belong to me and if the original artist is identified, please credit and cite accordingly. Thank you. Source: Pinterest

November 21, 2017

Huxley Lofts Apartments, Room 208

478 Railroad Street, Groton, NY

A month has passed since tragedy struck this apartment. It's been an entire month of wistfulness and wander. The incident almost seems like a dream by now, slowly sinking to memory, scar emerging. But echoes and memoirs of my past deeds, whether in bliss or in woe, still haunts me to my very being.

Me. Her. Us. And everything in between.

It all begs me to remember when I try my best to forget. But maybe I don't need to forget. May be what I need is to learn from it. Sounds cliché doesn't it? That's because it is. And it's pitiful enough for me to advise myself some sappy life lesson that I'm sure will not even pursue. Sigh.

'If only I'd ran faster.'

'If only I had kept my mouth shut.'

'May be only then, I wouldn't feel so empty right now.'

'And broken.'

'And alone.'

'And lost.'

These were the thoughts I had on that cold winter night. I still do feel the same, yes, only lighter. The wound is still there but not as deep anymore because I do not intend to be held back by these thoughts forever. Regretting the things I failed to do or what I could have done will not and will never change what had already happened. I have to keep moving forward. I need to let her be the doves and sing among the stars in Neverland. At least, that is what she want me to do and I have to keep my word close to my heart at all times.

What a horrible way to start an entry, I know. I was never really good a writing introductions. Let's just hope I can write the ending better. Anyway, like I said before, I need to keep moving forward, and I'll start by narrating the events that took the life of one (MY) Wendy 'Darling'.

Welp, here goes nothing.

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It was hours afterwards when I found myself weaving hastily through the crowded streets of the city: through the loud chatters of passersby, the constant ringing of phones, and the bickering of cards and buses; an irritating cacophony of the city's night life. I mean, it's the same for the day, but still, irritating. Not to mention the invasive contact of skin and the quick warm breath of the people made it difficult to breathe. Or was it just me? I'm not so sure anymore. What's worse though is that it was so freaking cold. I had nothing but a jacket, a plain shirt, a pair of sweat pants, and sandals on in the middle of November. It was such an embarrassment to be seen in such thin clothing.

To be honest, I just sort of ran out the door and didn't bother to put on anything else since getting the medicine for Wendy was my top priority at that moment. Besides, it doesn't really matter now, does it? It was always my fault anyway. I got carried away by the heat of the moment and overreacted. We had another argument, well, the same argument actually. It's all she has been saying about over these past few months.

"Arthur, I don't want to take my medications anymore," she said in a weak frail voice.

I stood by the bedside table measuring her prescriptions with mouth agape but not entirely. Shell shocked, sure, but seemingly - ok, may be it was obvious- annoyed by the consistency of her pleas.

"Yet you never do," I replied.

"I'm sure of it this time," she responded with great confidence.

"Sigh. Why even what that, Sunshine? If that happens, I'll be lonely for the rest of my days."

I flashed her a soft wavering smile before she mumbled, "But you don't have to be," her eyes wet with tears. At that moment, I dove in to the edge of the bed and caressed her cheeks as I attempt to stop her from crying.

With my heart rumbling, my stomach churning, and my smile faltering, I asked, "What's wrong, Darling?"

"I am! I've caused you nothing but trouble this past year. I'm a burden to you, Arthur. I always have been."

"What are you saying? No you're not. Never have I thought of you like that," I argued in return.

"Just look at you. You work 4 hours a days at 3 part-time jobs each and for what? 3 bottles of 'booze' a month that doesn't even seem to work while you struggle to pay the rent. No sleep, no eat, all work; you're basically as dead as me."

"So, what are you implying?"

"Forget about me. Think about yourself for once."

'But we decided this would only be temporary until we can afford for your surgery."

"Yeah, well, I'm deciding something else now."

"And I decided we will never speak of this again!" I said with a raised voice.

Silence enveloped the room. Not one of us dared to utter a word for the moment. But the presence of it was foreboding, and so I spoke, "It's time for your medicine". I grabbed the tray littered with bottle sand cups from the table and placed it between ourselves like a boundary before guiding one of the cups towards her mouth.

"I don't want to," she pouted.

Irritated, I said, "Enough is enough, honey. Drink the medicine."

"No."

"Drink-"

"I said no!"

"Just drink the god-medicine, Wendy," I exclaimed as I shoved her the medicine.

"NO!"

Next thing I knew, there was a slap at my wrist and a thump in my lap alongside the clattering of plastic and shattering of glass. It took me a second staring at the pool of chemical splattered on the floor before I processed what had just happened: She shattered her one chance of survival I so desperately worked hard to give her. And then, I broke down into fits...

"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH I SPENT ON THAT? FOR YOU AND FOR THAT CAD SHIT?"

"Arthur, I'm-" she stammered.

"NO, YOU'RE NOT! ALL THIS TIME, YOU'VE ONLY BEEN THINKING ABOUT WHAT YOU WANT! WHAT ABOUT WHAT I WANT? ALL I WANTED WAS TO SEE YOU GET BETTER. I WANTED YOU TO LIVE. BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY, I WANTED TO KEEP LOVING YOU!"

"WE'RE NOT LIVING IN A FAIRY TALE, ARTHUR. WE'RE NOT IN NEVERLAND LIKE WE ALWAYS BELIEVED. THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS HAPPILY EVER AND THERE WILL NEVER WILL BE. THERE ARE SOME THINGS THAT ARE JUST MEANT TO BE BROKEN. AND I'M ONE OF THEM. IF YOU TRULY LOVE ME, THEN LET ME GO. WE'RE BOTH SUFFERING IF WE CONTINUE TO LIVE LIKE THIS."

The thought of such deed struck a chord in my heart which left me speechless once again. But knowing myself, I refuse to accept such fate, and I decided to make sure of it.

"Stay here. I'll be back in a few minutes," I ordered in the most calming voice I could muster at that time.

"Where do you plan on going?"

"The pharmacy."

"In the middle of the night? That's 4 blocks away! You can't be serious!"

I ignored her nevertheless as I reached for my jacket in the closet, but she held onto my arm before I could do so and pleaded, "Please, Arthur, just stop it already. It's not worth it. It’ll be too late. Please!” However, I just shook her off and went anyway and said, "For you, anything is worth it," because apparently, apathetic is what I am.

The mere lights of each lamppost illuminated a small portion of the darkened setting against the bright fluorescent lights; guiding me and leading me home. A sudden burst of rain made everything dreamy and hazy. While others went to seek refuge, I dashed across the crosswalk with a bag of necessities, passing door after door. I was completely soaked, but I couldn't care less. I was desperate to return to the apartment. And when I did, she was right. It was too late...I was too late. "Wendy, I'm back," I called out. What I expected to be the woman of my dreams to welcome me home, instead, I found a pale figure drowned in blankets sleeping soundly in our bed, a single piece of paper rested over her hand:

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And that was the end of it, the end of our supposed to be never-ending story. When the paramedics came, they informed me that she died shortly after I left her from a heart attack due to high blood pressure. It was my fault. Everything was fault. I was the one who ruined everything. But that's beside the point. What matters right now is how I shall move on from such a tragedy.

Do I call myself a widower now? We haven't actually gotten engaged or anything, I guess not. Would I even learn to love again? It depends on how I see it now. If I would have guess, I once believed wholeheartedly on the concept of forever, yet, I never really understood any of it. But I think I do now; it's a lie. Forever is a beautiful you wished to believe with someone and cherished it together against all odds.

You know what, may be Wendy and I aren't meant to be forever. May be it was only meant for a lifetime, at least, Wendy's. I still have all the time in world that I can spend loving her. May be I won't end it just yet - or maybe I won't. We'll never know. But when I do, I'm going to tell her all about it in another life.

Signing off,

James Arthur Celestine, Her Peter Pan.

PS. What do you know, I did write a better ending!

#short story #love #bittersweet #fiction #rework

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arrowfan437 · 7 years

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To Savor While You Taste

Hey peeps! Here’s my first submission for @thebookjumper‘s amazing Olicity Hiatus Fic-a-Thon! This is Prompt Number 3, Taste. Sorry it’s a day late, but @tdgal1 encouraged me to flesh this out, so a very big thanks and hug to her!

PS. I didn’t know who else to tag so I just stole your tag list @thebookjumper :D

Summary:

Felicity returns from serving in the Army for 2 years with an honorable discharge. And she’s going to surprise her brooding husband who misses her like crazy.

Word Count: 2513

AO3 Link

The sudden turbulence awoke her with a jolt, pulling her out of the dream she’s had night after night the past week. She looks around the cold, crowded plane with tired eyes and looks down. The familiar camouflage she wears invades her sight, and she smiles to herself.

Stretching her arms above her head and rubbing her tired eyes, Felicity looks out the window, studying the clouds with an intent. She tries to squint as one passes by, trying to make a shape out of it.

It’s been a long time since she’s had quiet like this. When was the last time she could just consider the sky and just… stare?

She looks down at her right hand then, looking at the platinum band, with a simple diamond encased in the wiring designed to mimic a vine.

Excitement, along with a bone deep need bubbles in her veins at the thought of her husband.

Memories flood her, and she’s lost to the ocean blue she hasn’t had the chance to look at in 2 years.

“Wow. How in the hell is that a dolphin Felicity?” Oliver wondered with a furrow to his eyebrows.

It was a bright day, the cool air breezing through them and the grass they laid on. The sunlight was a little too strong, so they stood next to the old tree off to the side, looking for some shade. Oliver was laying down on the crisp, green grass with Felicity curled up to his side. She traced meaningless patterns on his olive, T-shirt clad chest with one hand, and pointed up at the clouds suspended in the sky with the other.

“You can’t see it?” she asked in disbelief while turning her head up at him.

“Look!” she said. Oliver turned his head up to see the cloud she was pointing at. He studied the cloud for a moment, shifting his eyes to the jagged edges, and hole in the white that Felicity probably thought was the eyes.

He grinned widely, and looked back at her, only to find her staring back at the so-called dolphin, about to speak.

“There’s the fin!” she exclaimed.

“Although, I don’t know which one. What are they called anyways? The dorsal fin, and then the one on the back…are those things even fins? I’m pretty sure they help them swim…oh whatever. And there’s an eye! And the blowhole!” she elaborated.

Her fingers point to the hole Oliver looked at not just a second ago, and then to another all the way at the back of the fluff of white.

She turns back to Oliver, realizing he hasn’t said anything. When Felicity turns her head up, she finds him watching her intently.

His eyes rove over her features, a small smile on his lips. He starts at the top, taking in the small crinkle of her eyebrows, and a strand of her silky hair on the side of her face, and the glasses in between her hair and head.

He moves his hand to tuck the hair behind her ear, and looks into her eyes.

Amazement fills his veins at the sight in front of him. She’s his.

At the same time, he feels fear weigh down on him, at the feeling of being incomplete.

His face weakens at the silent admission, and holds on to her a little tighter.

Because he won’t be able to do it later.

So, Oliver buries his face in her hair, smelling the strawberry and vanilla scent that’s he’s associated with her for so long.

And, Felicity, she knows she has to give him this moment. To collect his thoughts.

They lay there in silence for a few moments, before Oliver picks his face up as he feels a warm hand slide up his jaw, and the familiar gesture of thumbing his stubbly cheek.

Their eyes meet, and she sees the anguish in his eyes, and the pain she’s causing. She’s about to say something when Oliver speaks up.

“Stop, Felicity. I know what you’re thinking.” he chided with a whisper. He starts move his hand reassuringly down her side, and to her hip, before starting again.

“It’s not your fault. I know why you have to do this. It’s what you’ve wanted for a long time. You’re going out there. Saving other people’s lives, protecting them. How could you blame yourself for doing what you want? I just…”

He looks down at the fingers dancing across his chest, and sees the shiny platinum on her ring finger. He picks the hand up and starts to kiss her fingers, one by one.

He shivers, and then continues with a broken voice.

“I just love you. So much. I need you in my life. You’re my other half. And just the thought of something happening to you out there, and I won’t know for sure…” he takes a small breath, unable to finish that sentence, as he feels his tears sliding down his cheeks.

“Hey,” she moves up and presses his forehead to hers. She grabs his face with both her hands and starts to wipe his tears with her thumbs.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me Oliver. I’m going to do what I’ve wanted to do for so long. You’re right about that. But I wouldn’t be doing if I didn’t know if I was coming back to you or not. And I will. I love you so much. And I’m going to fight to come back to you.” She resolves.

With a noise between a whimper and a sigh, he presses his lips to hers. He immediately slides his warm tongue across her lips, and she gladly grants invitation. Their tongues meld and dance around each other, and he holds on to her tight, scared she’ll disappear.

He savors her taste. Something sweet, with a hint of ground coffee, enveloping his senses. He etches it onto his lips. Memorizes it further. More than he already has.

Because after today, he won’t feel the sensation of being utterly whole.

For two years.

Felicity shakes out of the memory when she hears the flight attendant over the PA system.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be arriving at Starling City International Airport in approximately 20 minutes. Please stay in your seats and fasten your seatbelts because we will be lowering our altitude soon. Thank you very much.”

Felicity closes her eyes, and thinks about him. 2 years. Does he still look the same? Oh obviously he does. How will he look at me when he sees me? Will he hate that I’m surprising him? Does he still…taste the same?

She involuntarily brings her hand up to her lips and closes her eyes.

Imagines his soft, inviting lips pressed up to hers. His scent surrounding her, his aftershave, and his heady musk that drives her crazy.

Her belly contracts with desire, and heat stocks in her stomach.

She opens her eyes, realizing that this isn’t the place she should be having these thoughts.

She chuckles quietly, thinking that if Oliver were here, he wouldn’t have cared.

He would’ve seen the blush creep up to her cheeks, and have his way with her in the cramped-up bathroom.

She sighs.

Felicity quivers at the need to see her husband, and breathes a quiet reprieve to her untimely salaciousness.

But she doesn’t just want him that way. She craves everything with him. She wants to see his big, wide grin, and his dimples. She wants to run her fingers through his stubble, and ogle the rest of his body. And rediscover all their forms of intimacy. Something like a phone call, would never be enough.

And her Honorable Discharge gave her that chance.

She shakes in her seat, partly because of the airplane slowly moving down, and the other part being reminded of her plan to surprise Oliver.

At QC.

“I’m coming.” she pledges.

He remembers that day under the clouds clearly. He’s reminded of it, in every moment, and every action. Anything that reminds him of her.

He looks at the clock. 737 days, 14 hours, and 58 minutes. Oliver hasn’t been able to see her, touch her, or taste her in so long.

And she hadn’t called in for almost 8 months .

And even then, the phone call was never enough. She’d say in a few words, jumbled from both sides through the static, and she’d be off.

It frustrated him, and scared him to no end.

He tried to shrug it off, and took off his sleek, navy blazer. He was suddenly getting really warm, and rolled up his sleeves.

He turns to the window, looking at the city in front of him.

Work’s been the one of things that’s been keeping him together ever since his wife left.

He’s tried the movie nights with Thea, the family time with John and Lyla, but it’s not enough.

He takes a deep breath, stopping the movement between the forefinger and his thumb, and sits down his desk.

He looks at the picture of Felicity at their wedding on his desk, staring at it for a second before burying himself in his work.

He tells himself that nothing’s wrong, because he remembers the promise she made that day.

She would come back.

He fidgets in his seat, unable to focus.

Because he can feel something inching up to him. No, it’s not a storm. But he knows something is going on.

It’s trudging up to every fiber of his being, and it accumulates with the stress he already has.

He just needs that one person that will melt it all away.

“Mr. Queen.”

He freezes.

The hairs at the nape of his neck arose instantly at the soft, all too familiar voice.

“I was watching you pace back and forth for the past few minutes and thought you could use some coffee to help you with the bags under your eyes.”

“I hope it’s all right. You do still take black, right?”

At that moment, he realizes it’s his mind playing tricks on him.

Because it can’t be her.

She would’ve told him if…no, it can’t be her. But he hasn’t had anything to drink in ages.

He’s not tipsy, for sure.

So why is his mind trying to flaunt his greatest desire in front of him, only to pull it away when he walks forward?

So, he turns around slowly, ready to stare at the blank space in front of him.

But he’s met with the smile he’s ached for ever since that day.

A shudder goes through him when he re-opens his eyes.

He studies her face, the dimple peeking out, her bright hair peeking out as she took off her cap. She runs her fingers through it, letting it cascade down her back. And then he looks at her black glasses, a stark contrast to her big, beautiful blue eyes and her creamy skin.

He takes in the camouflage uniform concealing her skin, and the olive-green boots that meet instantly at the end of her pants.

And then Oliver looks back up to her eyes, watching her eye him up and down, looking for something she might’ve missed all this time.

And he whimpers slightly, when their eyes meet.

And then he runs to his salvation.

He closes the distance between them in an instant, his large form engulfing her tiny one, his arms wrapping around her.

“Felicity.” he croaks out.

Tears escape him before he could even notice as he hugs her tighter, burying his face in her hair, searching for absolution.

And then he hears her soothing voice once again.

“Oliver, hey hey hey hey hey, it’s alright,” she assured.

“I missed you.” she whimpers, pressing a tender kiss to his neck.

She hears a small sniffle in her hair, and then slowly pulls back to see her husband’s face.

She takes in the crease in his eyebrows, the slightly long stubble, his familiar cobalt eyes, and she smiles just when he does.

“Felicity.” he says in a disbelieving tone.

He looks at her face from top to bottom, studying all her features again.

“You’re… you’re really home?” he stammered.

She gives him a nod with a slight uptick of her lips as he takes a moment to realize what that means.

He gives her a wide grin, and shakes his head and laughs slightly, before he picks her up and spins her around.

Felicity breaks out into a fit of giggles as Oliver twirls them around, her hair swinging slightly in the direction she spins.

When he stops, he looks into her eyes again, and holds on a bit tighter.

He moves forward and grasps her head between his hands, kissing every inch of her face.

Her cheeks, her nose, the corner of her mouth, her eyebrow, her eyes.

Anywhere possible.

Felicity laughs again at the slightly-longer than usual stubble tickling her face, but she welcomes it.

“You’re back.” he mumbles after pressing his forehead to hers, a slightly disbelieving tone still permeating his voice.

She grasps his face with both her hands, satisfying the itch her fingers have had by rubbing them through his stubble.

She thumbed his cheek, wiping away the tears that still fall.

“Yeah, Oliver. I am back.” she confirmed with a laugh.

“I missed you so much,” he says quickly with a breath before kissing her with an intensity.

When their lips locked, Oliver finally relinquished his control. The simple, yet otherwise indescribable press relieved him, and his shoulders instantly sagged, the shreds of disbelief he still felt being destroyed.

He moves his tongue forward, tracing the seam of her lips, leaving nothing for him to dream about.

He doesn’t have to fall into a dream to feel her lips now. Because this is real.

She’s here.

She opens her mouth, and their tongues wrap around each other instantly, doing their familiar dance around each other, reacquainting themselves.

He’s pulled in by her familiar, heady, sweet taste, smiling in to the kiss when he feels the slight coffee flavor that he remembers all too well, like the rest.

They’re wrapped around each other like that for so long, until breathing become a necessity.

When they pull back foreheads still pressed together, they smile at each other, forgetting about anything else that’ll come after this.

Because they’re living in the now.

“I was lying about the coffee, by the way.” Felicity jokes.

Oliver snorts and laughs at her admission, remembering the day she said she would never fetch him coffee if she became his EA.

He sees her face scrunched up in laughter, and couldn’t contain it any longer.

“God, I love you. You’re actually back, and this is real, and I’m holding you right now in my arms, and you look so sexy in that uniform, and..” he blurts out but is interrupted by her lips.

She takes her turn rediscovering the flavor of his mouth, swallowing up his following words. He moans slightly at her tongue invading, and then she speaks into the kiss.

“I’m here, Oliver.”

Tags under the cut!!

@coal000 @missyriver @almondblossomme @spaztronautwriter @wherethereissmoak @felicityollies @cainc3 @wanhani @dust2dust34 @cruzrogue @hope-for-olicity @babblekween @dmichellewrites @callistawolf @the-queenfamily @angelalafan @bokayjunkie @moonbebesworld @scu11y22 @jamyjan @crankyandbitchy @geniewithwifi @smoakingskye@writewithurheart @some1foundme @xxlisaxxx-blog @nerdyandturdy @aussieforgood @imusuallyobsessed @leonie1988 @miriam1779 @diggo26@amphoteros @tdgal1 @queensoverwatch @jedichick04 @walker-oliciter@squidbillybritt @green-arrows-of-karamel @uhhmanderrmitch @overwatchqueens @smoakmonster @ourwritinginvein @pls-moi @spacemomnephmoreau @gypsyfire1066 @creativelylisa @sharingmyworld@laurabelle2930 @overwatchandarrow @pennedbyv @dinzbinz @jlr1224 @crazycrystal10 @ccdimples88 @perfectlittlesoul @mariposablue9 @rua1412 @dreamsofolicity @quiveringbunny @thearrowandhisgirlwednesday @mammashof @eilowyn1 @xblondepiratesopheeex @1106angel@onceuponanolicity @fallingmeleth @mel-loves-all @releaseurinhibitions @purselover2 @thatmasquedgirl @babblingblondegenius @bitchwhwifi @faeriefantasy @olicitysmoaky @lover4eternity @a-w-mouse @rynflo @c0bra5nak3 @wetsuiton @charlinert @laureningall @madhaj @memcjo

#Army AU #Prompt 3 #Taste #Mine #Felicity's in the army!#I loved writing this #Oliver's so in love with Felicity #she's his whole world

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