Tumgik
#Should have waited until I was at a laptop to find a picture of an uno reverse card
piratekane · 1 year
Text
Beatrice sighs as her pen runs out of ink. This is the second pen today and she’s starting to feel like there is something working against her. But, that seems illogical. The more logical conclusion is that Ava has used her pens. She has a tendency to use them until they’re nearly dry and put them back in Beatrice’s backpack, thinking she’s doing a good job returning them to where she found them.
Not maliciously. There’s nothing Ava does that is malicious. Beatrice knows she’s probably thinking: I borrowed this. I need to put it back. And then she does and Beatrice opens her backpack at the student center the next day, intent on getting some work done while she waits for Ava, and finds her pens dry.
She looks through her pencil case but there isn’t another pen, just a precisely sharpened standard pencil, two black mechanical pencils, a yellow highlighter, a soft white eraser, and her red pen - used to make corrections only. She debates using it.
No. It would ruin her notes.
Instead, she pulls out her laptop. She’ll just continue her notes there and transfer them to her notebook later. The extra repetition will be good for her. Her professor asked her a question she wasn’t quite prepared for and she knows she’s going to be thinking about it all week until she has a chance to redeem herself in the next class.
Her screen comes to life and she sighs. This one isn’t born from frustration like her last one; this one is an acceptance, an admitting to herself that, despite what she’s looking at, she can’t help but feel a rush of affection for it.
Ava has changed her desktop background again. This time, it’s a picture Camila took last weekend. Ava is in a white shirt and white shorts, a white sweatband around her forehead. All of it is stained in neon paint. She’s holding a fake plastic trophy high above her head with one hand, the other looped around Beatrice’s neck, the two of them squished into the frame. Her own clothes are soaked with the same bright colors.
How she agreed to something called a Color Run... The idea of running through cannons of color had not sounded appealing, but Ava had come home with a flyer she found on the bulletin board outside the cafeteria and presented it to Beatrice alongside a bulleted list of reasons why Beatrice should say yes.
She let Ava go through the list: one, you love to exercise. Two, it’s advertised to make the world ‘healthier’ and you’re always telling me I need to start making better choices. Three, imagine if we got Lilith to agree to come and someone blasted her with a color cannon?
The third one hadn’t been convincing. Lilith would never agree to something like that.
Beatrice didn’t tell her that the list didn’t matter; she was going to say yes the moment Ava handed her the flyer and looked at her with those eyes, the ones that always made Beatrice feel like she could free fall and not care what waits for her at the other end of it.
And she had to admit, it was rather fun. The white clothes they bought were completely ruined, but it had been worth it to see the way Ava beamed the whole run, sprinting ahead to circle back around her. She had thrown her arms wide when the color cannons went off, soaking in the powder. Beatrice soaked in her happiness in return.
It hasn’t been long. Spring is fading into summer quickly and Ava has been living with her for two months and every single moment has been filled with the kind of happiness that Beatrice could have only dreamed about when she was younger. The kind of happiness that made each day feel like it was worth waking up for.
She hadn’t gone looking for this, hadn’t expected something like this to just fall into her lap - or literally crash into her table. It’s illogical to think fate sent Ava into her orbit, but if she was pressed, she could admit that each of them must have been in the right place at the right time. Serendipity, Ava said with a rakish smile. We were destined to meet.
If there was such a thing as serendipity, it must be working in her favor.
She opens a word document, the cursor blinking at the top of the page. She titles it Anthropological Theories of Religion and flips through her textbook until she finds the correct page. She likes this class, likes how as she continues through her degree program the class gets smaller, more intimate. She typically likes the professor, though she feels thrown off by her now.
Halfway through a word, her world goes dark. Warm hands slide over her eyes, fingertips pressing against her skin. 
She smiles nearly instantly. “Ava.”
“Not Ava,” says a low voice. But it’s clunky, a poor imitation at something deeper.
Beatrice plays along for just a moment, indulging Ava and a part of herself that likes to make Ava happy. “Oh? Well then. I suppose a stranger has found it appropriate to put their hands on me.” She curls her fingers around a thin wrist, one her hand already knows the shape of, and tightens slightly. “I do know how to disarm you.”
“You could try.”
Beatrice tightens her grip in response and hears a slight exhale that glances against the shell of her ear. A fingertip skates across her brow briefly and then Ava is letting go, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before she sits down heavily in the chair next to Beatrice.
“How did you know it was me? What if I was… Mary?”
Beatrice spares Ava a glance. “Mary knows better. You, on the other hand…”
“I’ve never known better.” Ava says it with pride. “Especially not when it comes to you.”
Beatrice feels her chest tighten. She wonders if Ava knows, if Ava understands how something so simple unspools the tight loop Beatrice keeps around her heart. A part of her thinks Ava must. Ava is able to read her so thoroughly. From the moment they met, Ava has seen through her so effortlessly. It’s thrilling, to be seen like that. 
And it’s devastatingly terrifying.
“Yes, well,” she says quietly.
“One day, you’ll use that to your advantage.” Ava spins Beatrice’s textbook towards her, reading a few of the section titles before she turns it back towards Beatrice. “But you’re also too nice for that, so who knows.”
Beatrice straightens out her textbook out of habit more than anything else. “You’re late.”
Ava smiles sheepishly. “I got caught up.” She doesn’t give an answer past that.
Beatrice nearly frowns. Ava doesn’t owe her any more of an explanation. She just usually gives one.
“But I’m here now!” Ava takes off her backpack, resting it on the floor before she opens it and takes out her own laptop. “I thought you didn’t like typing your notes? Muscle memory or something, right?” 
“My pens are out of ink.” 
Ava’s cheeks flush. “That’s my fault, isn’t it.”
“It’s certainly not mine.” She says it without any malice. “I just need to start carrying more pens.”
Ava still looks guilty. She fishes into the pocket of her jean shorts and unearths a stick of gum, three paper clips, and an uncapped pen. She spreads them out on the table and nudges the pen towards Beatrice. It’s not the tip she likes, thicker than she usually uses, and it’s blue. If red would ruin her notes, this would change the physical shape of them.
She takes the offered pen and closes her laptop. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you.” Ava smiles and scoops the paper clips up, putting them back in her pocket. 
Beatrice will find them later when she does the laundry and she’ll add them to the jar of pocket-trinkets she keeps of all the things Ava leaves behind in her clothes. It’s made up of coins and paper clips and pen caps - all things that Ava swears she’s going to put in proper places but never remembers until Beatrice is pulling them out of the washing machine.
Ava takes the gum and breaks it in half, offering it to Beatrice. She has coffee and this gum is spearmint. The combination will taste horrible. But she puts the gum in her mouth and smiles when Ava does.
“So, listen to what MacKay did today.” Ava tells the story animatedly, face shifting as she plays each character. Beatrice doesn’t catch every word, too focused on the rise and fall of her voice and the way her hands move as she goes on. Beatrice finds herself smiling along, not at all caring about some girl named Carina or Professor MacKay and whatever argument they’ve gotten into this week.
Ava is halfway through her story, body gearing up to drop the punch line, when her face shifts and her eyes cut over Beatrice’s shoulder. Beatrice frowns, turning to look. A boy is approaching their table, hands locked around the straps of his backpack as he strides towards them.
“Hey, Ava!” he calls.
Beatrice looks back at Ava. She knows this boy, at the very least. But her face is unreadable - a feat Ava doesn’t manage to accomplish very often. He comes closer and Beatrice’s frown deepens.
“Ah,” Ava says quietly.
Ah?
The boy slows as he reaches their table, a smile on his face that someone might find charming. She studies Ava’s face. Does she find it charming?
“Hey, Ava,” he repeats. His voice is smooth, slightly accented. A traitorous part of her thinks of the time that Ava said she liked accents. “I was hoping to catch you after class.”
Ava smiles. “Sorry, JC. I was in a hurry. Had a lunch date.” She hooks a thumb in Beatrice’s direction. “JC, meet Beatrice, my best friend. Beatrice, this is JC. He’s my biology lab partner.”
JC. She’s never heard of him before. Ava talks about everyone and everything. Some nights, she talks until she falls asleep on the couch, her Hobbes stuffed animal clutched in her arms. It’s almost as if she collects stories all day just to tell them to Beatrice later. She knows about every one of Ava’s classmates, is - secretly - invested in her Literary Theory classmates, Robert and Nayara, and their on-again, off-again relationship. She knows about the librarian Ava likes, who doesn’t mind her iced coffee, as long as she uses a paper towel and keeps it away from the books.
But she’s never heard of a JC, or anyone who might use the initials JC.
And it’s not that Ava isn’t allowed to have friends. She is. She has plenty of them. She always says hello to at least fifteen people when they go out, either here to their favorite table in the student center or in the library or walking to the cafeteria if they’re getting lunch between classes. Ava loves people, loves knowing things about them. Beatrice loves that about her.
She just thought she knew all of them. Or has heard of them before. She certainly thinks she would have remembered hearing about Ava’s lab partner. It's odd, now, that she hasn't.
JC smiles at her, his eyes taking a moment longer to shift away from Ava. “It’s nice to meet you. Ava has talked a lot about you.”
Beatrice hides her smile at that. “Nice to meet you,” she says politely.
He completely turns from her, his job of mirroring her politeness gone, his job done. Beatrice finds herself studying him. He’s attractive in a conventional sense. A strong jaw, a good smile. Camila would have many things to say about him and Beatrice works to keep her voice out of her mind. She focuses on Lilith instead. 
Boys, she would probably sneer. Beatrice agrees.
JC runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back a little. Beatrice watches Ava’s eyes follow the motion and fights a visible frown. JC notices, though, and seems to preen a little in a way only university-age boys can when they find themselves to be attractive. She takes a centering breath. She doesn’t know JC. She’s sure he’s a nice person. She’s also sure he’d be a nicer one if he wasn’t standing at their table right now.
“I just wanted to know if you gave any thought to my question.”
“Ah,” Ava says again.
Ah?
JC doesn’t seem bothered. “I know your rule on dating your lab partner. It’s a very specific rule but I think you should give me a chance.”
Dating echoes in Beatrice’s head like a slow siren, like the slow spin of a lantern in a lighthouse. It illuminates JC, floating in the ocean in her mind, with his charming smile and his hopeful eyes. Ava appears next, face unreadable. They rotate around and around until they’re in the same frame.
She blinks and Ava is staring at her, a slight wrinkle in her forehead.
Beatrice keeps her face neutral, unsure of what else to do with it. She certainly can’t shout no. She absolutely will not encourage it. She’s stuck in a sort of limbo where she isn’t sure what comes next and so she waits, poised and ready to do whatever is needed of her.
Ava’s frown deepens.
JC takes the silence and runs with it. “If it’s because you’re worried about things being awkward if it doesn’t go well - and that’s a big if - then you don’t need to worry.” His smile widens and he leans one hand down on the table, his whole body angled towards Ava now. “What do you say?”
Say no, she thinks. Tell him to go away.
Ava has been living with her for two months and Beatrice has been in love with her for at least half of that.
It took some getting used to, this feeling. It took many nights laying in bed staring at the ceiling and pretending like the feelings she had for Ava were just a friendship. An intense one, born of their proximity and Ava’s natural affinity for people in general. 
But love is friendship caught on fire, she’s read before. And her friendship with Ava is a living, burning thing. She knows their love would be incendiary, scorching everything she thought love looked like before.
If - and it’s a big if - Ava ever wanted to love her back.
Why would she? Why would she give up a world of possibility for Beatrice? She’s certainly nothing special. She’s disciplined, polite, considerate to the needs of others - all the things her parents wanted her to be. Ava wants someone free, a little brash, selfish in the right ways. Beatrice is none of those things, can’t even begin to think of how she could be. But Ava deserves to get what she wants after all those years of being denied even the simplest of things.
Beatrice just doesn’t have the qualities Ava could want. Friendship is one thing. Being in love with someone is another. Beatrice is hyper aware of the difference.
It doesn’t stop her from dreaming about it, though. It doesn’t stop her from wishing for it.
“What’s the worst that could happen? We spend the rest of the semester ignoring each other?” he asks, smile charming.
Yes, she thinks. What’s the worst that could happen between them? They could spend the rest of the lease ignoring each other. Ava would never look at her the same.
She’d have to go back to living her life the way it was before Ava - not the worst, but not as great as this.
“I don’t know,” Ava finally hedges.
Yes, Beatrice exhales in her mind.
JC leans forward a little more. “It doesn’t need to be anything big. We could go for one of those iced coffees you like. At the cafe near Venable?”
“She likes the one near the English department.”
Beatrice frowns. Surely that wasn’t her voice. But Ava and JC are both looking at her. So it must have been her. There’s a slight smile on Ava’s face, a slight frown on JC’s. Beatrice clears her throat.
“I’m sorry. I just…”
JC recovers. “The one near Eldridge Hall, sure. I know someone who works there. She can sneak us a pastry.”
Ava hasn’t looked away from Beatrice. “I don’t know,” she repeats.
Beatrice swallows. It’s fine. Ava is - well, not quite a grown up, but certainly not a child. Despite her propensity for Saturday morning cartoons on Beatrice’s Hulu account - which is ruining the algorithm of her suggested shows - and sleeping on the couch upside down like a toddler and eating, God help her, shredded cheese out of the bag after finishing half a gallon of milk without even pouring herself a glass, she is not a child. 
She can make her own decisions. And if that decision is- If it’s- Well. Beatrice swallows past a knot forming in her throat. Well. She can do what she pleases. Including this probably-very-nice-boy in front of them. She’s allowed to do that.
So she smiles tightly, her lips pressing together thinly, and tells herself to get it together. She keeps her focus on Ava and loosens her mouth and it feels a little more natural. She inhales through her nose. She can tell Ava that she’s free to do whatever she wants with whoever she wants.
“You do like a free pastry,” is what she ends up saying.
Ava’s forehead pinches, the corners of her mouth crinkling. “I do,” she says slowly, confused.
“An iced coffee and a pastry.” Beatrice says it just as slowly. “Both things that you enjoy.”
“I do,” Ava repeats.
Beatrice nods encouragingly. Her head feels like it’s on a spring, up and down and up and down. She’s worried it’s going to roll off. 
JC looks between the two of them, confusion on his face. Beatrice sees him out of the corner of her eye and her smile tightens again.
Ava is still staring at her, still frowning slightly. Beatrice forces herself into her most diplomatic smile. 
Don’t you get it? she wants to ask. Don’t you understand what I’m trying to say?
But Ava misses it. Because she breaks Beatrice’s gaze and focuses on JC instead. Beatrice thinks her smile is slightly dimmer. Or she’s just hoping it is. But it still doesn’t ease the pain of knowing there is a smile and it’s aimed at JC. 
She opens her mouth, but he beats her to it. “Listen, you have my number. I’m done with classes this evening. And then you’ll meet me for coffee, okay? And you won’t regret it.” 
Ava says nothing. JC pushes back from their table and smiles, hooking his hands back around the straps of his bag. His eyes wander to Beatrice and he nods politely before turning in a lazy circle and heading back through the crowd as the student center starts to fill up as afternoon classes.
Beatrice looks away instantly, busying herself with adjusting her notebook. It doesn’t need to be straightened out. In fact, she pushes it out of place and the pen Ava loaned her starts to roll across the table towards the edge. She reaches for it at the same time as Ava does.
Their fingers tangle and the pen is trapped under Beatrice’s palm. She pauses, every nerve exposed, and looks up to find Ava already looking back at her.
She smiles, mouth still wound too tight. “I’ve got it.”
“Do you?” Ava asks curiously.
Beatrice frowns, looking down. Their fingers are still slotted together, still laced over the pen. Of course she has it. It’s right there, scratching blue ink against her palm. 
“Because it seems like you’ve lost everything else,” Ava continues. “Like your cool, for instance.”
She pulls back minutely. “My-” Her eyes narrow. “What do you mean by that?”
Ava shrugs a shoulder. She only does that when she has a secret, when there’s something that Beatrice missed, a cue she didn’t read. “You do like a free pastry,” she mocks, her voice pitched low in a terrible approximation of Beatrice’s accent. “What gotten into you?”
“Oh.” Beatrice bristles. “Well, you do.”
“I know that. You know that.” Ava pauses. “Why does JC need to know that?”
Beatrice doesn’t have a good answer for that. So she makes one up. “Your potential suitors will need to know things about you. That is less a trivia fact and more of a necessity.”
Ava snorts loudly. Beatrice looks around, but no one seems bothered by the sudden noise. “My potential suitors?” She shakes her head. “Bea, honestly. No one talks like you do.”
She doesn’t make it sound like an insult. She never does, never has. She seems more entertained than anything, but not in a way that makes Beatrice uncomfortable or self-conscious. It makes her feel seen. And she loves to be seen by Ava. It uncoils some of the tension in her shoulder that she knows is radiating into her hand, tense under Ava’s touch.
Ava doesn’t move her hand. “Well, thanks to you, I think I’m going on a date tonight.”
Thanks to me. Thanks to the way she said Ava would enjoy herself. Thanks to her, Ava is meeting someone who isn’t her for a coffee at Ava’s favorite cafe where she only brings Beatrice. One of our places, Ava always tells her with a smile. 
“You can say no,” she reminds Ava, her whole body locking up again.
Say no, say no. She feels each word burn in her throat. But why would she? Why would she pick someone like JC over me?
Ava is still looking at her curiously, head tipped slightly as she studies her face. Beatrice holds still, face perfectly impassive from years of practice. She doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t open her mouth and tell Ava that JC seemed nice but she deserves something better than nice; something spectacular.
Then again, she’s not sure that Ava would feel that way about her.
So she forces her face to relax. Works through each muscle until she’s smiling slightly and nods encouragingly. “But if you like him and can see yourself enjoying your time, you should say yes.”
“Do you want me to?”
The question cuts through her with the intensity of a perfect lightning strike. She pulls back slightly, the only indication Ava’s hand tightening over hers when it starts to slide away. Ava’s face has gone from curious to a level of seriousness usually reserved for her more difficult homework assignments, or when she’s trying to figure out something Beatrice said. 
“I don’t… I don’t think that’s my decision.”
“Well, you’re my best friend.”
Beatrice has never hated a description more in her life. She fights the visceral reaction she feels come alive in her chest. She is Ava’s best friend. She’s admitted that more times than her parents have told her they love her. The first time had been a surprise to both of them, almost too soon after Ava moved in. But it felt natural. Ava slotted into the unknown hole in her life like she had always been there.
But she’d set their whole foundation on fire if it meant one day she could be Ava’s best friend and, and, and.
She widens her smile, feeling like she’s playing a part. “Of course. But I suppose… Well, there’s no harm in trying, is there?”
Ava’s hand slides away now and the feeling that she said the wrong thing rushes in on her. 
“A very diplomatic answer, Beatrice.” She pats the top of Beatrice’s hand before she pulls it into her lap. “Remind me again why you’re not running for student government?”
Beatrice doesn’t smile. She simply touches her notebook, arranging it’s already perfect line. She looks down at the chunky-tipped blue pen sitting on the page, so out of place against the neat, thin, black lines of her notes. Suddenly the idea of writing with it feels overwhelming. 
“I think we better get to lunch.” She puts the pen in front of Ava. “Camila said she was going to meet us there.” 
She needs the buffer, needs to put space between them. Camila is the perfect distraction. Mary and Shannon would know instantly that something was wrong - and they’d corner her until she said what. But perhaps they might not; Shannon seems supernaturally in tune with her and there’s rarely a thing she needs to tell her. Lilith would read Beatrice’s hesitation and be annoyed. Or think it’s Ava’s fault and be cagey when she doesn’t need to be. Camila would be too polite to acknowledge the tension Beatrice knows is radiating off her.
Ava, mercifully, doesn’t argue with her or point out that Camila isn’t meeting them for another 15 minutes and the walk only takes 5. She pockets the pen again and packs her things away, waiting for Beatrice to zip her bag closed.
They walk inches apart, shoulders to themselves. It’s the longest 5 minutes of Beatrice’s life.
~
The door opens slowly. Beatrice looks up from her book, the one she’s been reading since Ava left; the one she hasn’t been reading at all. Ava slips through it, back turned to close the door quietly behind her. When she turns to the living room, she gasps.
“Beatrice.”
Beatrice blinks. “Why are you sneaking back in?”
Ava is still taking deep breaths, hand pressed to her chest. “I thought you’d be sleeping.”
“At…” Beatrice checks her phone, frowning. “Eight o’clock in the evening?”
The tips of Ava’s ears go red just enough for Beatrice to notice. “Well. I didn’t look at the time.”
Beatrice looks out the window at the golden sunset. “It’s still light out.”
“You’re an early sleeper.” Ava sounds like she’s grasping at straws, the pitch of her voice rising.
“Not that early,” Beatrice says flatly. She slips her bookmark into her book, grateful to be closing it. “8 hours a night are important, but if I went to sleep at this hour, I’d be up at four in the morning. That’s too early, even for me.”
Ava toes off her shoes, kicking them towards the shoe rack at the door. One of them lands on the rack but the other bounces off it and away. Ava sighs, fixes it, and runs a hand through her hair when she straightens up.
“How-” Beatrice stops. She suddenly needs to be busy, needs to have her hands moving. She could open her book again, thumb through the pages. But tea sounds better. She stands, crossing to the kitchen and filling the electric kettle.
“I got you a coffee.” Ava pulls out a stool tucked at the breakfast bar, leaning forward with her chin in her hands. “But some kid on a skateboard crashed into me when he cut a corner and took the coffee down with him.”
Beatrice pulls two mugs out the cabinet, dropping a tea bag in each. “Are you okay?” 
“Just my pride.” Ava shrugs when Beatrice looks back. “But I’m disappointed. I got you a mocha chip frappuchino. Lucy put in extra chocolate chips.”
Something flutters in Beatrice’s chest, a sudden thought that overwhelms her: maybe Ava does these things because she feels it too. She pushes it down and smiles. “I do like when Lucy makes my drinks. But, maybe next time.”
Ava is quiet long enough that Beatrice wonders if she left. The kettle starts to whistle and she fills the mugs, balancing them carefully as she carries them to the counter Ava hasn’t moved from. She’s just uncharacteristically quiet. She hums a thank you and curls her hands around the mug, hissing when she finds it’s too hot.
Beatrice can’t help the fond smile; Ava is always rushing into things.
It’s why Beatrice knows Ava doesn’t feel the same way. She’s not rushing into this, not caught up in a whirlwind like she is with everything else. 
“Aren’t you going to ask me how my date was?” Ava finally asks.
I don’t want to know.
“How was your date?” she asks politely.
Tell me it was the worst date you’ve ever been on. Worse than the one you told me about where the boy slurped his pasta and sauce got everywhere; worse than the one where the girl tried to cast a love spell on you.
Ava shrugs. “It was… nice.” She blows on her tea. “JC is a good guy. I knew that already. But it wasn’t… groundbreaking.”
Beatrice is patient, letting her tea cool on its own. “Does a date need to be groundbreaking?”
“World-breaking.” Ava says it so quickly and fiercely, Beatrice has to blink. “It should be life-altering.”
“That seems like a lot to expect for a first date.” Beatrice points out. “At a coffee shop. With your lab partner.”
Ava shrugs. “Maybe I just have high expectations.”
Ones Beatrice can never live up to, it seems.
She smiles, hoping it looks warm and friendly. “You’ll have a hard time finding someone with an outlook like that.”
“I don’t know.” Ava takes a sip of her tea, hisses again. “I mean, a lot of things in my life have been like that. Getting out of the orphanage. Getting into school. Meeting you.” She’s staring at Beatrice now, a smile on her face.
She curls her hands around her mug and fights the way it burns her skin. She’s hardly earth-shattering, hardly worth that much. There’s no way she could be. But Ava is so earnest all the time, means things so completely. And if she’s saying that, Beatrice has to acknowledge that Ava considers her something great. A great friendship that Beatrice could never, ever risk.
But she feels herself flush all the same. “I’d hardly call it that.” She hedges around her next question. “So, no second date?”
She wonders if Ava hears the way her voice trembles; she can certainly feel it in her chest. 
But Ava doesn’t seem to, too focused on taking another, slower, sip of her tea. This one apparently doesn’t scald her tongue. She grins up at Beatrice, hunched over the steaming mug. She’s brought her legs up on the rungs of the stool and her knees are around her ears. Ava clutches the mug tightly to her chest.
She’s in love with a menace. 
“I don’t think so,” Ava says after a minute. “I mean, I don’t really have a reason not to, but…”
Beatrice breathes in deeply, steadying herself. She’s not a reason for Ava to say no. She knows that. “That’s not very encouraging,” she says instead.
Ava shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not looking for anything to change right now. I want things to stay exactly as they are. Things are perfect. And if I went out with him again, I’d just be, I don’t know. Pretending.”
She takes another measured sip of her tea. She feels like she’s walking in the empty space between the points of knives. “You wouldn’t be happy.”
Ava shakes her head softly. “No, I wouldn’t be. How could I be happy if I was pretending all the time?”
Beatrice knows. Because she is. She’s pretending from the moment she wakes up to the moment she falls asleep alone and all the seconds in between. She’s pretending that everything she’s feeling isn’t consuming her from the inside out.
All the books she read as a child, all the romances novels she devoured in her bed with a flashlight illuminating the pages - none of it described the way it feels now. Love is friendship on fire had seemed like such a childish thing to say. Something arbitrary and insignificant. But now she understands what it’s supposed to mean, what she could never understand before with anyone else.
“You couldn’t,” she admits. She’s not lying.
Ava’s eyes are still piercing, still searching her face. She wonders what Ava is trying to find and she keeps the truth as far away from her as she can. Either she finds something else or she gives up, because her face breaks into two and she’s grinning.
Ava slurps her tea, smiling wider when Beatrice looks mildly disgusted. “Alright. The way I see it, we have two options: we have a sleepover night where you let me braid your hair and I let you paint my toenails.” She laughs when the mild disgust turns into outright horror. “Or, I get you back into that really nice sweater you were wearing earlier and we got off in search of a replacement mocha chip frappuchino?”
Beatrice abandons her tea almost immediately. “Do you know what time Lucy’s shift is over?”
Ava jumps off her stool, landing lightly on her feet. She doesn’t bother with sneakers, socked feet sliding into sandals. Beatrice thinks about telling her how ridiculous it looks: her mid-calf socks usually hidden by her high-top sneakers, and a pair of black slides; her jean shorts where the pocket hangs just a little too long past the hem; her crop top with How you lichen me now? hand-stenciled on the front, from the one botany club meeting she attended; her hair half-pulled back in a high top-knot; a crooked grin on her face.
She’s the most beautiful woman Beatrice has ever seen in her life.
And one day, someone else is going to get to call her theirs. Beatrice will be left with the empty space where Ava used to be, her own space in Ava’s life filled up with someone else. Someone better. Someone she wants to rush headlong into the future with. Someone she sees a world of possibilities with.
Beatrice will be happy for her. Or, she’ll exhaust herself pretending.
“Milady,” Ava says, mouth tripping over the sounds. She holds out her arm. “Will you accompany me on this chip?”
Beatrice rolls her eyes. “You hardly made an effort that time.”
Ava’s smile doesn’t falter. “One of these days, I’ll impress you, Beatrice. You’ll see.” She wags her finger at Beatrice. “And then you’ll realize how special I am. You’ll never want to lose me.”
“No,” she says quietly. Ava slips away to grab her phone, abandoned on the breakfast bar. Beatrice waits by the door, holding it open. “I don’t suppose I ever will.”
It’s inevitable. She’ll lose Ava to someone who loves her out loud, someone good enough for her. But she’s going to bury greedy hands into the moments in between and hold on for as long as Ava lets her.
“I think I’m going to tell JC it was nice, but we won’t go out again,” Ava says conversationally as they exit their apartment building, headed towards campus. “He was nice, but… I’m looking for better.”
“You’ll find it,” she says, believing it wholeheartedly. She unthinkingly maneuvers Ava around a crack in the sidewalk. “You just need to be patient.”
“Patience isn’t my strong suit.” Her hand slides to Beatrice’s, their fingers slotting together for a fleeting moment. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait. But I'll try.”
Just keep waiting. Wait forever, her mind screams. Don’t find anyone before I can be who you need me to be.
Ava takes in her silence and laughs. Beatrice frowns, not in on the joke, but doesn’t protest when Ava laces an arm through hers, pulling until their pressed together from the shoulder to their elbows, digging into each other. There’s no space between them, not for a slip of paper or a secret.
Ava hums softly, some tune Beatrice doesn’t know, but would guess is some new song on the radio that she’s never heard. Beatrice lets it bubble in her chest, sinks into it’s familiar warmth, and hopes that whatever God is watching over her lets her keep this moment for as long as she can.
And if he isn’t, she hopes he’s just not paying enough attention to realize she’s living on borrowed time and that she’s running out of it.
722 notes · View notes
star-going-supernova · 5 months
Note
I’m not really sure how to word this? Here’s a prompt for you I guess? Gregory would 100% take a photo in front of his missing poster smiling with a peace sign. Also I think he’s just the type of gremlin to take one of them for himself much to everyone’s exasperation.
Tumblr generated prompt number 4, here we go! Gregory and Cassie are both in their late teens here, in their first year of college. This is pretty slice-of-life-y with no clear connection to any AU other than a generally happy one.
title is a play on the saying “not all who wander are lost”
Not All Who Have Missing Posters are Lost
Gregory pulled out his phone and opened the camera app. Leaning against the telephone pole, he threw up a peace sign and grinned. Satisfied with the picture, he sent it to the group chat. 
Gregory
image_attachment.87265032 lol good times :) 
He stowed his phone in his pocket, mentally counting down until it started blowing up with messages. Then he carefully tore the missing poster bearing his face—albeit his much younger face—off the pole and tucked it into his laptop bag. 
He walked the rest of the way to the bus stop, letting his phone vibrate every few seconds, and only once he’d sat down did he pull it back out, snickering as he read through the small backlog. 
Cassie
XD you’re still finding those?? 
Vanessa 
oh my gosh pull it down pull it down we do NOT need a repeat of two years ago
Roxy 
who was even looking for you, lol
Freddy
Roxy! Do not be rude! 
Cassie
you look so young. so innocent.
Roxy
yeah but we know better ah dang it, i can feel fazbear’s disapproval from across the plex 
Bonnie
You were such a cute kid! Look at those cheeks!
Vanessa
seriously, though, what part of town is that? if there’s one, there might be more
Chica
Oooh! Congrats on adding another to your collection :)
Monty 
lol nice
Freddy
Are you on your way home, superstar? 
Roxy 
wee woo, dad alert! you know the rules, no sappiness in the group chat, fazbear
Freddy
What was sappy about that?
Cassie
if nicknames count, Roxy, you’ll have to start calling me by my name now 
Roxy 
… fiiiine, i take it back 
Gregory 
XD yes, Ness, I tore it down, and it was on Reed St, but it looked like some other posters had been taken off recently, exposing this one, so i don’t think it’s a widespread issue yes, Dad, I’m on my way back. just got on the bus, should be there in 10 mins 
He stayed on his phone for the rest of the ride, confirming their plans for dinner later. Cassie had finished her final exams the day before, so she’d already been by the pizzaplex to say hi to everyone. 
The bus dropped him off just down the street from the pizzaplex, and though early December was chilly, he enjoyed the bite in the air. There’d be snow soon, he was sure, and he was looking forward to some lazy days with a mug of hot chocolate and a warm blanket. 
Gregory’s first semester of college had been awesome, but he was happy to be home, and even happier to find Freddy waiting inside the side entrance that Gregory favored. He stepped forward into his adoptive dad’s arms, marveling yet again that he was taller than Freddy’s shoulders these days. 
“Welcome home, Gregory,” Freddy said softly. 
“I missed you,” Gregory told him, holding on tight. He sighed contentedly, the remaining stress from exams draining away. 
“Your winter break lasts a month and a half, correct?” 
“Mhm. And I plan on staying here for all of it.” 
“Good. The others have been looking forward to your return.” 
Gregory pulled back and unzipped his coat. “Just the others?” he teased. 
Freddy cleared his throat, which was as good a sign as any of his sheepishness (he’d probably been beside himself with excitement), and followed after Gregory as they descended into the basement, where Gregory had commandeered several rooms for his own use years ago. Vanessa had offered him a room in her house, but he’d politely declined, though he’d slept over there many times over the years. He was just too attached to the pizzaplex and its inhabitants, and also his independence. 
After popping into his bedroom to drop off his bags and coat, he quickly went into his workroom. It held his desk and bookshelves and the different personal projects he’d tinkered with over the years, and it also held his wall of missing posters. 
Freddy chuckled from the doorway as Gregory used sticky-tack to affix it into an empty space. It was almost like wallpaper, over two dozen posters with slight variations plastered edge to edge. Some were black and white, some were in color, and there was a variety of childhood pictures used among them. His favorite was one that misspelled his name as Gegory. That one was carefully framed. His second favorite, also framed, was a homemade wanted poster that Cassie given him for his fourteenth birthday. 
Gregory stepped back and surveyed his wall with his hands on his hips. “Perfect,” he said, pleased. 
“If you are satisfied,” Freddy said, “then we should go meet the others. Bonnie and Chica are relentlessly spamming me with frowny faces because I am ‘hogging you.’” 
“Tell them it’s your dad rights,” Gregory said, even as he bounded from the room, eager to reunite with the rest of his family. “Is Vanessa around? Is she still the junior location manager, or did they promote her again?” 
“She has been fending off a promotion for two weeks now. They reached a stalemate yesterday when she threatened to quit.” 
“They always fall for that,” Gregory snickered. “As if this is the time she’s gonna pack her bags, psh.” 
“They have been getting faster about calling her bluff,” Freddy mused wryly. 
They got in an elevator, and as they went up, they listened to the awful elevator music that hadn’t changed since Gregory was ten years old and running around the pizzaplex for the first time. 
“I am glad you are back,” Freddy said after a few moments. “I know you need to go and experience the world, and I would never want to hold you back from that. But I hope you know you will always have a home here, with us.” 
Gregory shuffled sideways to be tucked into Freddy’s side. “Aw, Dad. No matter how far I go or how long I’m gone, I promise—I’ll always come back. No one’s gonna need missing posters for me again.”
76 notes · View notes
elizabarnes · 7 months
Note
Hiiii
Okay but like...imagine you notice weird things going on around your apartment...things go missing, stuff is moved, little things like that, but you don't think much of it. But then imagine you wake up one night to a noise and you see this tall figure standing at the end of your bed going through things on your vanity. The figure hears you and turns around before pinning you down with his large hand clamped around your mouth. (I can't decide if you should know Ted or not so you can decide that). He ends up fucking you, lots of "I've been waiting for this for so long." "I'm gonna make you so happy." "All mine now." "My little dolly". You know, cute shit like that. (Also IDK how you'd want to incorporate this but i'm also like imagining that scene in The Boy where the dude has the girls dress and like recreated her on his bed?) Anyway, name of Jesus Christ, Amen
I’m gonna do what I did in Stalker and make reader a fan but she isn’t an insomniac??? Howwww???
Tumblr media
“Wait, how did you get in?”
Ted Nivison x afab!reader
MDNI I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN
You are having a normal day, taking a shower at 9, doing skincare, going back into your room, and watching Ted Nivison’s videos on your laptop until 11 then going to sleep. You wake up from a nice dream a sex dream at about 4 or 5 am. You look ahead of you and see a tall figure rummaging through your stuff. “Wha-“ You start but you're too tired to finish your sentence. It could just be a delusion, right? “Hello, sweetheart.” You hear come from the tall man. He sounds like Ted Nivison.. You think. “Are you Ted Nivison?” You ask, being too sleepy to even care. “Why don’t you find out?” He chuckles softly as he comes closer to you. You can see the reflection from the window off his glasses and your eyes widen. “The fuck? Why are you in my house?” “I didn’t expect you to say that.” “Then what did you expect?” You rub your eye tiredly. “Well, I expected you to have a fangirl moment. You do have pictures of me everywhere.” He says as he opens his arms as if offering a hug. In his right hand, you see him holding a pair of your lacy panties that your friend had bought you for your 18th birthday. Ted crawls into your bed and pins you down as if you were going to try and run. Like, dude? You’re too tired, duh. You wake up a little more and realize the situation more. “If I fall asleep you can continue whatever you started.” You say to him as a smirk appears on his face. “Whatever you say, princess.” He says as he nips at your neck. You put your hands under his shirt and pull it over his head, discarding it to the floor. He does the same to your shirt and starts to nip at the new bare skin. A couple of whines leave your mouth which motivates him to leave marks. What feels like only a few seconds pass and both of you are naked, he’s lying on his back as you look at him with tired, almost innocent eyes. His large hand cups your cheek and his thumb rubs the skin there. You lean into his touch, almost falling asleep. “Stay with me, darling.” He whispers. “Mm..” You mumble out as his hands move to your hips, he then flips you around so you’re on your back underneath him. He puts the tip to your entrance and slowly pushes forward, loving the way you whimper at the pleasure. He pushes all the way in in one swift movement making you let out a whine. “Fuck- so tight..” Ted groans out. “T-Teddy- please-“ You whine out as he starts slow thrusts, letting out groans of your name or how wet you are. “Been waiting for this for so long, gonna make you so much more happy than that last douche- fuck.” He says as his thrusts pick up pace and your moans grow louder. “Fuck!- S-so close- please, Teddy!” You moan out, you definitely weren’t falling back asleep now. “Fuck- gonna cum!” You let out an almost pornographic moan making Ted’s eyes widen and lips part slightly. “Cum for me, darling.” He says into your ear as you clench down on him, cumming on his cock. This throws him over the edge and he cums inside you, pulling out and moving down to your cunt that’s leaking with yours and his mixed cum. “My little dolly now, mine too play with whenever I want.” He mumbles as he licks a stripe up your clit before sucking on it, moans leaving your mouth as your hands meet his hair, you feel two of his huge fingers enter you, even louder moans coming out of your mouth now. “Fuck- Ted!” He looks up at you and the sight almost makes you cum on the spot. His fingers go quick inside you drawing loud moans and whimpers from your mouth. You cum on his fingers and he works you through it before pulling his fingers out of you and sucking your cum off, lapping up any last bit he didn’t get. He gets up and walks into your bathroom, getting a rag and cleaning the two of you up. He then goes over to your dresser and pulls out some clean clothes for you and getting in his bag for his own clothes- was he planning this? He walks back over to you and helps you get dressed and then he’s dressed himself. He crawls into bed beside you and pulls you into him. “I love you, Y/n.” “I love you too, Teddy.” You close your eyes to go to sleep. “Wait- how did you get in?”
80 notes · View notes
bl4cktourmaline · 2 months
Text
🍙﹒星 — day 4 featuring tenma tsukasa
Tumblr media Tumblr media
knock knock!
heres some mail!
ଘ(੭´꒳`)°* ੈ‧₊ 💌
⌨️ᶻᶻᶻ...nian-7 is typing... ♡
↻ᴹᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ ˡᵒᵃᵈᵉᵈ !
❝sooo.. i know i don't really know mango very well but seeing as tsukasa is on their favorite characters how about tsukasa for their birthday event for slot 4? <3 ❞
━━❝I love hearing your voice even when we are so far away from each other❞
Tumblr media Tumblr media
You loved being somewhere different. The scenery was gorgeous, the food was amazing, and the new fashion? You were in love with all of it… The diversity in clothing styles, makeup styles, and hairstyles was everything you wanted to see. 
You were glad to take the chance you’ve been dying for… But, something wasn’t right.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
You loved the rare quietness you got from time to time… But, being somewhere totally new with nobody was isolating.
Of course, there were other classmates, but they weren’t considerable as friends.
There were many friends back at home and it was never lonely. Hanging out with friends was awesome, but what was more awesome was being with him…
You sighed, reviewing the pictures you took on your camera on your laptop. ‘Who knew taking pictures all day was such an exhausting thing…’
As much as it was boring, it was also slightly entertaining to see where your day led you. Plus, you had many pictures to show your friends once you got home.
Call it unprepared, but you didn’t realize that you would need to purchase cellular internet for another country. So, you were offline for the next week until you could get the chance to make a plan.
Falling backward into the chair, you groan. “This sucks…”
Ring!
You jolted upwards, looking around the room. “What the hell?”
The noise was heard again, and it came from the hotel phone. You laughed softly before scooting the chair backward and stood up, walking towards the phone.
You pick the phone up and hold it to your ear. “Hello?”
“Ah- I finally got it!” The voice on the other end exclaimed.
Eyebrows furrowed, you tilt your head to the side slightly. Laughing awkwardly, “Who is this?”
“You don’t recognize the sound of my terrific and mighty voice, co-star!?”
“Tsukasa!”
“AHA! You guessed right, my amazing co-star! I can never get anything past you!.”
“Wait,” You paused. “How did you find my room’s number? I couldn’t even text anyone!”
It took a moment for Tsukasa to answer. “I asked your instructor what hotel you were staying at! The process was long but unimportant! What matters now is that we are speaking!”
You laughed at him with a small smile, sitting on the bed.
“Everybody has been missing you, my co-star!”
“Now?”
Even though you couldn’t see him, the smile on his face was screaming from the other end of the phone. “Of course! I wouldn’t dare lie to you!”
“Oh no, of course you wouldn’t.”
Tsukasa suddenly sighed. “I can’t believe you had forgotten the fact you had to buy a new plan when you left the country!”
“It slipped my mind…” You sighed, rubbing the side of your head. “I was busy planning everything else! I would have gotten the international plan for the time being if I remembered!”
“That’s why you should have a bright calendar like me!” He beamed. “Every shining star must have one, you know?”
“I’ll be sure to get a calendar once I’m home,” You smiled.
It was silent for a moment until Tsukasa mumbled something softly.
“Hm?”
“How is it there!?” He asked loudly, causing you to drag the phone away for a moment then back to your face.
“It’s honestly so nice here,” You explained. “It’s so beautiful. The sites are amazing and- I wish I could show you and everyone else. But- the culture here is fascinating! I had gotten the chance to speak to some locals and some traditional clothing stores and I’ve gotten a great chunk of history on some of the culture here! Oh and also- the food is so tasty!”
Tsukasa listened quietly with delight as you continuously spoke about the new place you had been staying at. He liked how much you loved the new place and how passionate you were about it…
“Sounds fun… We and our friends should all go to the shining future together!”
You laughed with a smile and nodded. “I think we should too- oh, but I have to go soon. I need to finish up some homework before tomorrow.”
“Oh. Of course! A light has to do their work to make sure they can truly become the shining stars they’re made to be! Just like me!”
“You get it.”
The silence came back. It felt like he had something to say but at the same time, not really… It was hard to tell…
“Co-star?”
You hummed a small tune in response.
“I love hearing your voice.”
You were silent, still smiling, before becoming confused. “Huh?”
“I truly love hearing your voice whenever I can,” He softly said, contrasting with how he usually spoke. “I love hearing your voice even when we are so far apart. It’s comforting to hear! Not as comforting as mine but-”
You burst into a small laughter before he could finish his sentence. “You’re so sweet, Tsukasa. I honestly feel the same about you… it’s pretty quiet and lonely without hearing your voice every so often,” You breathed out a laugh.
It was silent again but felt more complete. “I’m glad you feel the same way!” He laughed. “Nobody can get enough of the star! It’s an after-star effect!”
“What the heck is that?”
“The effect after seeing someone amazing on stage who was truly so amazing you want to see more of them!”
You laughed again with a fond laugh on your face.
“Well, I should let you get back to work now, huh co-star?”
“It’s probably for the best,” You shrugged. “Call me tomorrow around this time again. I’ll make sure to finish my work early so we can talk for longer.”
Tsukasa laughed. “Alright! Farewell, my amazing co-star! I shall speak to you tomorrow!”
“Goodbye Tsukasa.”
You put the phone down before pausing, just remembering the conversation then laughed. How much of a dork he was…
Tumblr media
(っ'-')╮=͟͟͞͞💌 You receive a letter from Mango!
↻ᴹᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ ˡᵒᵃᵈᵉᵈ !
𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .
i hardly write on this blog but i hope to change that soon TT i love writing for tsukasa he is so silly 🩷 HEHHE
Tumblr media
26 notes · View notes
pisspope · 10 months
Text
Take One, Leave One
zeke yaeger x reader
content: fluff, language ?? mentions of erotica
this is 100% selfship coded but its been in my head for months so im letting the bitch out
Tumblr media
Well. Someone left erotica in your little free library. Again.
It’s been an ongoing battle for a couple of weeks now. You return home from your evening shift to find a slew of new paperbacks in the box. Some of it is to be expected, forgotten tomes of short stories and unremarkable children’s chapter books, but hidden among them are… others. “A Saucy Dame’s Shifter Mate,” for one, “The Demon and His Temptress”, for another. Which are fine enough donations for a regular library, but the one you put together in front of your house is obviously for kids. It’s covered in little rainbows and flowers and colorful spirals, and a good 90% of the books are for ages 6 and under. Whoever is doing this is either willfully ignorant or thinks they’re being funny. Your bet is on the latter.
You take the offending books out of the cutesy box and take them inside, setting them in the foyer with the others that have started to pile up. You’re planning on taking them all in to the library at once during a donation day, probably make some excuse about them being from an estate sale and that you didn’t want them to go to waste. You do work at the library after all, so the idea that you would want to save some works from a landfill isn’t too farfetched. And sure, maybe you should just tell the truth, that someone is donating filth to your little library, but the biddies at work are judgemental, so you’d rather just do it all at once and not have the embarassment build up over time.
What you’d really like to do, of course, is catch the culprit. You know whoever it is has to be doing it while you’re at work, sometime in between lunch and the late afternoon walk home, but that’s about it. Plenty of people stop by each day to peruse the collection, adult and child alike, so asking the neighbors who they saw won’t be much help, either. There’s only one option.
You’ll have to catch them in the act.
Your moment arrives not 2 weeks later. You’d been given an earlier shift than usual, opening instead of closing, and were trudging home for lunch when you spotted him. A man, average height, glasses, beard, button-up and slacks; some normal looking, white-collar joe. Probably worked at one of the cubical hells in the industrial part of town, pushing pencils and cracking his aching back until he could roll his ergonomic chair into the grave with him. He stopped in front of your little library, and, having not yet noticed you, took some books out of his laptop bag and slid them in. They weren’t picture books, either. Holy shit.
“You!” you yelled, jogging towards the man and your own house. “You are the culprit!”
The man looked up, bemused, glasses glinting in the sun. He sneered down at you as you reached him, waiting for what you had to say next.
You pointed at him accusingly, but he just smirked and put his hands up, mock innocent.
��I can’t believe I caught you.” you huffed, panting a little. Librarian life had you up and moving, but you wouldn’t call it an active position. “You’re the one that’s been leaving nasty shit in my little library!”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Like hell you do!” you snapped, sliding past him to pull one of the new additions out. Sure enough, a sultry cover of a buxom lass and her chiseled beau, complete with some poorly photoshopped motorcycle and rolling hills in the background. You held it up to him.
“This wasn’t here this morning. In fact, it wasn’t here 30 seconds ago.”
The man chuckled and folded his arms over his chest.
“How do you know that? You weren’t here all day.”
You shake your head, annoyed. It was obvious he was playing some kind of game here, and you wanted no part in it.
“Because I saw you put it in there!”
The man took the book from your hands gingerly, suprisingly soft fingertips brushing against yours. You gasped despite yourself, though if he noticed he ignored it.
“’Riding With the Boys: A Biker Girl’s Story’,” he reads, looking the book over like it’s the first time he’s seen it. He tosses it between his hands, flips through the pages, then hands it back to you with a sigh.
“It’s derivative, honestly. The lead heroine falls in love with the jacked leader of the gang even though their finance guy is a better fit for her. All about looks… no thought to her characterization and what would make her happy in the long run. Drivel.”
You snort out a little laugh, feeling your guard drop a tad. It brings you no joy, but there’s something charismatic about him.
“Whatever. You were expecting something more from gas station smut?”
He shrugs, pulls yet another out of his bag. “And THIS one,” he hands the novella to you, one with a shirtless man front and center, leather pants and a microphone in hand. “’Seducing the Singer: Night of the Sirens’? Don’t get me started.”
You tilt your head to the side, inquistive. “That bad?”
His eyes widen behind his circular frames. “Oh, atrocious. The male lead doesn’t even look like a rock star. He’s all goofy looking with glasses and Hawaiian shirts and bullshit. I guess the characters at least felt like they liked each other. In so many of these they’re just fucking because it’s what the narrative requires. It makes me ill.”
You can’t help but raise your eyebrows at his tirade. “So why read these if they’re all so awful?”
Shit, wait. you think. Why are you being pulled into this? Who cares why he’s reading them? Just tell him to stop leaving them here!
“Because the ladies around town can’t get enough of them,” he responds, eyes glinting mischievously. “I’m something of a businessman around here, so I want to keep a finger on what potential customers are interested in. And what they’re interested in,” he taps the book in your hands, “is erotic literature.”
“Bullshit. Who told you that?”
“Uh, I inferred it?” he laughs, but in a way that’s almost defensive, like you’ve insulted him by asking.
“Whenever I come back here a few days later, they’re already gone.”
“Oh,” you say, and you end up covering your mouth to stifle giggles at his expense. You look up at him through creased eyes nearly shut from containing your own laughter, then begin walking up the steps to your front door.
“Hey!” he calls, following after you with a couple wide strides.
“What’s so funny? And where are you going?”
You unlock your front door wordlessly, stepping into your foyer and gesturing at the not-so-modest stack of books by the staircase. You can’t help but snicker.
“They’re gone because I take them out before any kids can grab them. I’ve been waiting for a library donation day. Figured it’d be better to just give them away all at once.”
The man’s mouth opens and closes like a goldfish as he peers into your entrance room at the messy stacks. He looks to you, then the stacks, then back to you. His voice comes out as a squeak.
“You mean they’re not popular?”
Now it’s your turn to shrug and act blasé. Oh how the tables have turned.
“I don’t see them get checked out much at the actual library. The Amish romances do better. Older readers really only like the softcore, from my understanding.”
The man turns and walks away, sitting himself down on the steps to your door with a huff. When you follow behind him, he looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. Where the fuck did he pull those from?
“I’ve been setting up book clubs and wine pairings based off of these fuckers being popular. And you’re telling me you just… had them in your house? Right by the front door?”
You nod, breaking eye contact with him. You felt a twinge of guilt, though you had no reason to. It was his fault for leaving the damn things in your little library in the first place! Still, there was something about him. Something about those sad eyes and soft hands.
“I work at the library,” you sit down on the steps next to him, inner voice screaming to stop talking and let him suffer the consequences of his actions.
“You could come down and I could show you what’s popular right now. What the ladies about town are actually reading. If you wanted.”
“I’d like that.”
The man wraps his hands around his knees and pouts, actually fucking pouts, then nods.
You both sit there in silence for a minute, watching starlings hop across your little lawn and bees hover around morning glories, summer sun beating down on your skin. Part of you thinks you should probably shoo him away now, call this issue resolved, but you hesitate. Why is a mystery to you.
“My name’s Zeke, by the way.”
You whip your head around, pulled from your thoughts. “Sorry, what?”
He looks to the side and meets your gaze again. His eyes are like a cloudy morning in early spring.
“My name. It’s Zeke.”
You give him your name in return as he stands back up, readjusting his bag over his shoulder. The sun hits his hair just right, and it has the audacity to shine like spun gold. Something flutters in the pit of your stomach that you fight to ignore. When Zeke looks at you again, the fight becomes a boss battle.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. At the library.”
He walks off without another word. You don’t even have work tomorrow.
Sighing, you step back into your foyer and lock the door behind you. The erotica greets you in a haphazard pile.
This was going to be a long summer.
73 notes · View notes
hockybish · 4 months
Text
Christmas Plans
l West Winds au l dad!trevor l masterlist l part 1 l next l
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
"So are we getting him a cat or dog?" Trevor mused scrolling through his phone one evening. He was looking at animals online from a local shelter, trying to find the right one for Zephyr.
"Neither. I'm not taking care of a kid and an animal while you're not here and I'm trying to graduate" Bean typed away on the computer in her lap. "I'm almost done with school, one more semester, we can think about it then."
"Well then what about giving Zeph a sister or brother?" he tossed his phone to the side, it seemed pointless once Bean said no to the animal. He started placing kisses all over her neck and shoulder.
"Trev, what did I just say?" Bean pushed her beau away. She loved the affection he was giving her, but not when she was trying to writing an important paper for a class.
"You said not to a pet. You said nothing about having another baby."
"No more kids until after graduation. Plus we don't even know what we are. And there are a million other things we need to think about, like where would we live? Because it's already difficult with our two homes as it is." she rambled “and not to mention your family hasn’t even met Zeph yet.”
"Tallulah Bean?" Trevor waited a second so he could have her full attention before continuing. "I love you more than anything, will you be my girlfriend?"
"You know what? Yes." She kissed him this time. Trevor deepened the kiss wanting something more from this happy moment, Bean could tell as much. "No more kids yet though."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean we can't at least start trying now." He closed her laptop, placing it off to the side. She wouldn't be needing it for the rest of the night.
"I think we should tell them." Bean ran her fingers through Trevor's hair, they were snuggling in bed after having some adult fun times.
"Who are we telling and why should we tell them this thing?" he leaned into her touch while his eyes remained closed.
"I just think it's time we tell our families about us and more importantly yours about Zeph" she moved on to braiding the longer bit of his hair that had grown out since he last had gotten it cut.
"He knows my family. I think it's time that he knows his other grandma and grandpa and auntie and uncle."
"That, is a great idea, because my mom's only been begging me to bring Zeph around for the better half of a year now."
"Excuse me she's been what now?" Bean was a bit shocked at his confession, but at the same time not surprised he told his mom.
"Yeah, I may or may not have sent her a picture of Zeph like a month after he was born and I guess she figured it out from that." Trevor told her about what he did. "And Ellen's been sending her pictures too."
He explained how it had really only been this past summer, when they had been in Connecticut and so close to his family, that she had been asking to meet her grandson, but he had told her that it was something he would have to discuss with Bean. And with all the contract stuff going on and them trying to mend the what he had broken, it just slipped his mind.
"It's settled then, we're going to New York for Christmas."
"It's gonna be a short trip. I have a game on the 23rd and another on the 27th. That's not a lot of time for him to get to know everyone properly."
"We'll make it work, we always do"
39 notes · View notes
peachdues · 2 months
Note
Hey peach! You probably don’t remember me but I was the gal who was dressed up as Rengoku for Halloween. Anyways, I just recently (like literally today) got my jaw fixed (through surgery) and now… I have a perfect jaw.
I know this is related nothing to you or to your blog but I’m so happy and I look up to you because you’re such a great writer, you’ve got the perfect life (husband, dream job and such a loving person) and I’m so happy that after 20 years, my jaw isn’t broken and straight and I’ll have a perfect smile. I plan to recreate my senior pictures with a smile I love.
Idk I’m just so happy about this and I look up to you and you’re such a nice, loving person that I wanted to tell you. You can respond to this on your blog or private DM or not at all but I wanted to tell you because I’m just SO happy
YES OMG HI.
Okay so I kept trying to scroll through my inbox to find the pics you sent in of your INCREDIBLE costume but my phone keeps crashing 😭😭😭 I might have to wait until I get home/can get on my laptop to find them — I’m so sorry!!
Jaw surgery is a BITCH, my best friend had it — but congratulations, bestie!!! I hope healing went smoothly and I’m so glad you’re so happy with the results!!! And thank you for sharing with me!!! I love hearing from you guys, about anything and everything, so it made me smile to read this!!
Also, I LOVE YOU’RE SO HAPPY!!! You should be — you deserve to be!! Thank you, thank you for sharing!!
8 notes · View notes
winsmoke · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟐𝟎-𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫-𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧
Acclaimed photographer and virgin extraordinaire, Jaemin finds himself crushing hard on a girl working at a pizza shop. And by some miracle, they’re hiring for the summer.
⊹ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 7.4k ⊹ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 female pizza chef y/n x virgin photographer Jaemin ⊹ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 virgin au, college au, fluff, smut, angst ⊹ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 swearing, kissing, blowjob, university acceptance anxieties, unprotected sex ⊹ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 🦷 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 I’ve been working on this fic for eight months and I’m very proud of how the story and writing has evolved. I really wanted to show the delicacy and sugar rushes in a relationship. Thank you so much for reading. ⊹ 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | disclaimer | masterlist
Tumblr media
 “Why are you staring at me,” you grumble. The paper cup holding your oolong tea was choking under your stubby fingernails. Crossing your legs tightly under the wooden library desk, you try to ease the building pressure between your thighs.
 It had been weeks since Jaemin had confessed to you and you had yet to talk about it. But you couldn’t avoid him because he had the same shifts as you and worse, you liked it. His calm demeanor had somehow charmed you. 
 So when he asked if you wanted to study together, you couldn’t seem to turn him down. You keep finding yourself with him in various cafes and libraries with endless cups of oolong tea that Jaemin stubbornly pays for. You confess that it was nice having a composed presence while you frantically wrote and edited poems to submit for your graduate school applications. But his lip biting and long fingers could only keep you concentrated for so long.
 “I like watching you,” Jaemin confesses, his MCAT prep book forgotten under his twitching fingers. Good job idiot, you sound like a creep now.
 What did he just say?? You raise the cup to your lips, and eagerly gulp down the lukewarm liquid, trying to contain the violent twisting in your stomach. You look down as you wipe your lips and mutter, “I’m just writing.”
 “It’s just interesting to hear you read bits of your poetry out loud since you refuse to let me read anything.” Jaemin internally wipes his brow as a look of understanding and relief washes over your face. 
  “Uh, yeah. Well, it’s shit so I’m not showing you anytime soon.” Lowering the brightness of your laptop, you angle the screen away from Jaemin’s direction.
 Jaemin nods rigidly, urgently willing the boner under his notebook to die down. Needless to say, your long sighs and moans of frustration while writing had an impact on him.
 “Besides, you won’t let me see any of your photos,” you point out.
 Flinching, Jaemin looks away. “That’s different,” he mutters.
 At first, Jaemin was surprised to learn that you hadn’t already googled his photography which was widely available in various art and news publications. He shouldn’t be so protective of his work, especially because a photographer should want their pictures to be seen. But he can’t help but think all of his photos are private. And you somehow seemed to understand. 
 “How?” you press. 
 Thinning his lips, he mumbles, “They’re just–ah–not ready yet.”
 “You’re paid thousands to take pictures. I think that means they’re ready for me to see,” you grumble.
 A small smile curves up Jaemin’s pinched lips. “I’ll show you when you show me.”
 Huffing, you angle your laptop even further away from Jaemin and jerk your chair into the leg of the table. “Fine. You’re just going to have to wait until I get published then.”
 “Looking forward to it,” he responds softly, his piercing stare making you retreat your eyes to the safety of your screen.
 You swallow the whine creeping up your throat. Even though you enjoyed these study sessions with Jaemin, being so close to him was not helping your wet dreams. And keeping your legs tightly crossed to alleviate the burn between your thighs could only do so much.
 “So, um, what are your plans after you graduate?” Jaemin asks as casually as possible. 
 Does he want to know if he’ll still see me? Nope, don’t put that idea into existence. 
 “All I want is to continue writing... so I’m just applying to a bunch of MFA creative writing programs. 
 “Out of state or in-state?”
 “Out,” you respond immediately. “Anywhere is better than here. I’m so sick of…” You pause to collect your thoughts. You don’t want to overshare. “What about you?”
 Jaemin shoves his MCAT book closed so you can see the cover. “Can’t you tell?” he snaps. Glancing at your raised brows, Jaemin’s shoulders sag as he sinks into his chair. “Med school for me. If I even get in.”
 “That sounds horrible.”
 “Well, it’s what my mom wants, so I don’t have a choice.”
 You nod slowly as guilt creeps up your chest. His dull expression says it all. You think you understand now. 
 How could I be so stupid? He’s not in town for me. He’s here to study.
 “Look, I’m sorry for kinda being a bitch to you,” you say quietly. 
 Jaemin laughs. “You’re not, I promise. We’re friends.” 
 Friends. The word burns down his throat. He’s strangely resigned to the fact you don’t want to discuss his feelings for you. It seems you don’t quite trust him, which is why he’s trying not to push anything. Even though he sees you almost every day. Even though you look at him in a way that leaves him breathless.
 “But what about photography?” you ask, dragging Jaemin out of his thoughts.
 Jaemin hesitates. “I’ll take fewer jobs.”
 “But why? I mean, it must be amazing to be flown out to anywhere in the world.” you sigh dreamily, settling your chin into your hands. “The last time I left town was two summers ago. I went to California and wrote an ode to Yosemite like George Sterling. That place is surreal.”
 Jaemin laughs as he pictures you scribbling furiously on a rock. “Actually I’ve photographed Yosemite before. It was definitely impressive…” Jaemin rubs the back of his neck. But a little lonely.
 “I would give anything to go on one of your trips,” you groan as your gaze sinks back into your laptop. 
 Jaemin bites his lip, disappointed that your attention has already wandered away. “Me too,” he whispers.
Tumblr media
 “You wanna, I don’t know… get some dinner or something?” You tug at your ear, hoping your expression doesn’t look too desperate or anxious. 
 The two of you study together every day now. With the school semester soon approaching, you’ll have less time to prepare for applications during college. But you’re not sure if you’re there to be productive or to spend more time with him. Between working at the pizza shop and your library sessions, you don’t think you’ve gone without seeing him for more than 9 hours. You’re not one to spend this much time with anyone but his company is… comforting.
 Disgusting.
 “Yeah,” Jaemin gulps, trying to swallow down the leaping feeling in his chest. Trying to shove one of his prep books into his canvas bag, he smiles at you. “That’d be cool.” 
 It doesn’t matter that his MCAT is tomorrow at 8 a.m. If he knows it, he knows it. 
 “You good?” you ask as Jaemin continues trying to jam his book into the bag. 
 “It’s getting caught on something,” Jaemin grumbles. Successfully finding the strap that was catching the corner of the book, he gives you an overwhelmed smile. “I don’t usually carry around bags… but dinner?” he prompts again, hoping he didn’t ruin the moment.
 “Right,” you respond quietly, briefly closing your eyes to get the image of his flustered smile out of your head. “Wanna get ramen or pho?” 
 Jaemin laughs. “In the middle of summer?”
 You shrug. “I’m feeling noodle soup.”
 Jaemin nods. He would say yes to anything you suggest. “Pho sounds good. You know a place?”
 “Yeah… uhh but I don’t have a car so…” You fiddle with the straps of your backpack nervously. Glancing down at his bulky rose gold watch circled with grain-sized crystals, you wonder how many cars you could buy with such a watch. 
 “Neither do I, can we walk?” 
 Always a surprise.
 Nodding, you type the name of your restaurant into Google maps and begin heading in the right direction. 
 Falling into a comfortable silence, your gaze slowly falls to his hands swaying by his side. You’ve never been much of a hand holder but with Jaemin, anything was tempting. His fingers were thin and long, just as you had imagined…
 “What’s your body count?” you blurt out.
 “Huh?” He looks bewildered. What is it with you and these personal questions?
 “Nothing,” you mutter, unwilling to repeat the question again. 
 “Y/n,” Jaemin laughs. “You know me pretty well—”
 “No, I don’t,” you scoff. You’ve only known him for a few weeks. A month at best.
 “—Do you see me with many girls?” 
 “Just because I don’t see the girls doesn’t mean they exist,” you huff.
 “I go to work. I study. I eat and sleep. Repeat,” Jaemin shrugs. 
 Maybe a month ago, Jaemin would be nervous telling you how plain his life was. But you’ve been with him every day for a while now. If you hadn’t gotten bored of him yet, well… he had you. Or at least he’s close. Hopefully.
 “Your life can’t be that simple.”
 “It is. But to answer your question, zero.”
 You fold your lips, trying to contain a pleased expression. But then you realize– “You’re a virgin?” I’ve been fantasizing about a virgin? 
 Jaemin glances between your bulging eyes and raised hands. “Is it really that bad?”
 Realizing how you must look, you relax your body and mutter a quick, “No.” You mumble an apology and look at your feet guiltily. “I’m just shocked…you are, ya know…kinda perfect.”
 Jaemin shakes his head in confusion. “I’m really not. Far from it.”
 You nod enthusiastically. “Yes you are! Even though I boss you around at the pizza shop or I can tell you’re exhausted, you’re always kind and patient and–”
 Jaemin snorts. “Only with you.”
 Warmth blossoming in your chest, you try to force the gleeful feeling down but you can’t help it. An enormous smile surfaces onto your lips. And Jaemin can’t look away.
 A flush surges over his neck and up to his ears. Jaemin can’t help blushing when you’re looking at him like he's the only person that matters. It’s moments like these where he really thinks you might return his feelings. Jaemin glances down at his feet before smiling shyly. 
 “You're really pretty,” Jaemin compliments sheepishly.
 The two of you are standing a stride away from the sidewalk but neither one of you budges from the empty street. Under the dim light of a streetlamp, the two of you are folded in your own world.
 “O-oh, you’re, you’re pretty too” you sputter idiotically.
 “You mean handsome?” Jaemin offers.
 You shake your head. “No, I stand by my statement. You’re ridiculously pretty.”
 “Uh, thanks?” Jaemin laughs. “But you’re much prettier than me.”
 “No really, sometimes I wonder why you even bother with me…” 
 You gulp, feeling your face burn with embarrassment. You haven’t wanted to admit it to yourself but you’re insecure. The more time you spend with Jaemin, the more you like him. But there’s always that irritating voice that reminds you that you’re a very broke and struggling writer. How could you compare to a globally successful photographer?
 Jaemin frowns, his hand is reaching for you to reassure you but he stops. The two of you haven’t established physical contact yet. 
 Stepping directly in front of you, he waits for your eyes to meet his before speaking. “I think you’re incredible. I’m gonna sound stupid but I honestly haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met.”
 Your lips parted in surprise, they look swollen and irresistible to Jaemin. Before his mind can stop him, he’s leaning towards you. Stopping inches from your lips, Jaemin wants to kiss you so badly. He wants to show you how much he wants you, but he’ll wait a second more. 
 He smells so good. You can’t help yourself, he’s so close and his eyes are closed. Jaemin’s jaw is clenched as if restraining himself. But you won’t be the one to stop him. 
 Leaning in slowly, you gently suck his bottom lip. A tiny breath releases from Jaemin’s nose and his hands fall to your waist. Raising your hands to his neck, your kiss becomes more firm.
 His lips are so soft and you can’t seem to get enough. Your tongue starts wandering and when it rubs against his, a hot feeling shoots between your folds. He’s pulling you closer, groaning quietly at the feeling of your chest pressed against his but there are too many layers and not enough skin. Jaemin is tugging at your shirt, trying to untuck it from your jeans but his hands are too weak, he’s lost in your warm lips and soft pants. 
 The door to the Vietnamese restaurant bursts open and full customers sluggishly lumber to their cars. They’re too sleepy to notice you two reluctantly pulling apart. 
 Realizing you’re still on the street, you pull Jaemin up onto the sidewalk. Now that your hand is in his, you can’t seem to let go.
 “Hungry?” you ask breathlessly.
 “Very,” he breathes.
Tumblr media
 Being with you but not being with you at the same time is fucking with Jaemin’s head. And he’s never been happier.
 Yes, there is no label on your relationship but Jaemin knows you care about him. Even if you refuse to tell him.
 When university began, you convinced Jaemin to actually attend his classes. Despite hating his near-perfect attendance (whatever happened to the senior slump?), his grades have never been higher. With your help in his personal statements and a satisfactory MCAT score, Jaemin feels somewhat confident he would be accepted into at least one of the medical schools he applied to. With luck, you will be accepted into the same school’s MFA program. 
 Although the two of you are inseparable, when it comes down to it, it’s a relationship out of convenience. The two of you have the same job, the same work hours, and the same college schedules. If the two of you are accepted into different graduate schools, Jaemin doubts you will continue seeking him out. He even quietly declines every photography job to continue seeing you every day. Fragile or not, he’s determined to keep your relationship as it is.
 Having declined a job offer before heading to your apartment, Jaemin’s body was urging him to reach for his camera and Uber to the airport. Grabbing his camera anyways, Jaemin resolved that he would settle the hunger in a different way.
 “Let me take pictures of you,” Jaemin announces as you open the door to your apartment.
 You immediately begin closing the door on his wide smile. “You’re asking to get thrown out.”
 Jaemin forces his way through the door before you can snip off a finger and pulls you into a hug. Rubbing his cheek against yours, he begs, “Y/n, please! Just a few!” 
 “Absolutely not. You’ll take a picture of my corpse before you take a picture of me alive,” you deadpanned, unmoving in his arms.
 Pressing his lips against yours, Jaemin sighs contently as you immediately part your lips. Freshly showered, he breathes in the faint smell of your conditioner and lotion. Placing his camera bag on your kitchen island, he slowly backs you up to the couch. Eyes halfway closed, his hands eventually grapple for the couch arm and he sits down, pulling you down in the process.
 As you straddle Jaemin, your lips not parting with his, he moans happily. Why bother traveling the world when your body is his favorite place. 
 “But I want to take pictures of you,” he whines into your ear before licking and sucking your neck.
 “You just miss taking jobs,” you groan as his kisses lower to your shirt line. 
 Jaemin’s hands creep up your back, and after a ten-second struggle, manage to undo your bra clip. His fingers are cold against your skin but you’re so hot, you feel like you’re burning. As his hands inch up your stomach, you suck in your breath. You don’t want slow, you want his fingers, his mouth on your nipples, on your neck, in your pussy.
 “Maybe a little,” Jaemin acknowledges. He cowardly raises his lips back to your mouth, your untouched nipples throbbing for attention.
 “Take a job,” you say as you break the kiss, licking down his neck.
 Lifting his shirt, you pull his shoulders sideways so he’s laying on the couch and begin licking down his warm and hardened chest. When you suck his nipples, you can feel his dick prominent through his sweatpants. But it’s when your lips touch below his belly button that Jaemin can’t suppress his moans. 
 “I–I don’t wanna le-leave you for too l-long,” Jaemin stammers as you raise the waistband of his sweats and boxers and pull them down. “I’d be gone for at least a week.”
 “Hmm,” you hum disappointed. You don’t like the idea of being away from him that long but it bothers you more that you’re the reason why he hasn’t taken a job.
 Not picking up his fully erect dick from his stomach, you lightly lick his dick. Smooth and thick, it drags slightly across his stomach as you lick it without steadying it with your hands.
 “In, please, in,” Jaemin requests desperately.
 Taking his dick in hand, you patiently raise your head. “Only if you–”
 “Fine, fine! I will,” Jaemin gasps. 
 “Okay, good,” you grin happily.
 Lowering your lips, you lather your saliva across the surface of his cock with your tongue. Spitting into your palm, you pump him a few times before putting his dick into your mouth. Wrapping your lips over your teeth, you push his cock to the back of your throat. Feeling him grow a little more in your mouth, your saliva builds and you easily bounce your head up and down.
 “Fuck…fuck…it feels so good…” Jaemin moans.
 He strains his neck up with great difficulty, lips wet and parted as he watches you swallow his cock over and over again. Every ten seconds, he drops his head back onto the couch to let out a moan and more mindless words. You can feel Jaemin’s hips flatten onto the couch as he tries to keep himself from thrusting down your throat. Narrowing the space between your cheeks and his dick, you move your mouth faster down his cock, closing your eyes as you chase the base of his cock. 
 Jaemin’s hands move to your damp forehead and weigh down your head. Taking sharp breaths through your nose, you propel yourself further down his length, your nose barely brushing over a patch of black hair at the base of his dick. You’re too focused on telling yourself not to choke and throw up to hollow your cheeks anymore. Your jaw fully stretched and your gag reflex over-exerted, you internally beg him to cum. 
 “Shit, I–I’m gonna cum,” Jaemin groans pushing your head down a little more.
 You choke as his dick pulses in your throat, shooting down bitter cum. When his hand raises from your forehead, you raise your mouth and slump on Jaemin’s side, wheezing and coughing. The two of you lay panting for a minute before you wrap your arms around Jaemin’s neck, your damp head resting on his shoulder. Glancing down his chest, his sweats and underwear remain halfway down his legs and his cock is still bulging on his stomach.
 “How,” you heave, “how are you still hard?” 
 Jaemin shakily laughs. “I dunno. But I can’t feel my lips…or my hands.”
 “Oh…”
 Hugging Jaemin tighter, you hide your prideful grin in his shoulder. 
 You wait for his questions — Was that your first blow job? Have you had sex before? Have you been with anyone before me? But they never come. You get the feeling that Jaemin is only interested in the now. Thinking back to how you asked him his body count a month or so ago, you wish you had held in that insecure question. But you couldn’t help it, Jaemin was too pretty, too perfect. 
 “So, when will you go?” you ask, trying to chase away those thoughts.
 Jaemin rubs a hand down his sweaty face. Now. I want to leave now. “I’ll take a job when the semester ends.”
 You can’t help but feel hurt by how content he looks. But you’re the one who suggested he leave. “Where do you wanna go?”
 “Anywhere,” Jaemin sighs dreamily. “Anywhere is better than here.”
 Rolling off Jaemin, you turn on your side.
 “Y/n? … No, no. I didn’t mean it like that.”
 “No, you’re right. Anywhere is better than here.”
Tumblr media
 “Hey y/n,” Renjun greets eagerly.
 Pausing your sudoku game, you quickly set your phone down on the cash register. “Renjun…hey.”
 His eyebrows raise. “You know my name?” 
 You look at him incredulously. “You’re one of Jaemin’s best friends. Why wouldn’t I know your name?”
 “Kinda doubted Jaemin would talk about me. Plus I’ve never really met you.”
 “Yeah,” you bite your lip guiltily. “Sorry, I know Jaemin hasn’t hung out with his friends much since we started working together.”
 Renjun grins. “Are you kidding? I’ve seen him at university like every day! He must really like you for him to actually come to class.”
 You rub your chin with discomfort. “Uh, I guess.”
 “Where is he by the way?” Jaemin glances at the kitchen window.
 “Somewhere in Venezuela for a job,” you shrug. 
 “Oh,” Renjun’s shoulders deflate in disappointment. “I never know if he’s not answering my texts because he’s out of the country or if he’s just avoiding human interaction. He’s such an introvert,” Renjun laughs.
 “Not necessarily,” you frown, feeling defensive. It feels like you’ve spent an endless amount of days with Jaemin and not once has he struck you as introverted. Quiet perhaps, but even when he’s working, he always tries to draw you into a conversation.
 “Well, obviously he’s different around you. But I see Jaemin once a month if I’m lucky.”
 You nod slowly, not sure how to respond. 
 Sensing your discomfort, Renjun begins backing to the door. “Well, can you pass on my congrats to Jaemin? I bet he answers your texts.”
 You scrunch your eyebrows. “Congrats for what?”
 Renjun’s expression brightens. “Jaemin might win a Pulitzer! Some of his photos were published alongside some groundbreaking news article a week ago and everyone is saying he’s sure to be at least a finalist. I always knew he was an incredible photographer but geesh - a Pulitzer, I mean that’s crazy.” Noticing your dumbfounded face, Renjun frowns. “Wait, he didn’t tell you?”
 “No,” you say as you shake your head. “He didn’t tell me anything.”
Tumblr media
 Hey Jaemin, you type out into iMessage. 
 Hmm, capital letters seem too official. 
 You hold down the back key.
 hey jaemin
 I was wondering if we could talk?
 Fuck, just send it. 
 After hitting send, you immediately lock your phone and roll onto your back. Your apartment ceiling blanketed by the night greets you. Scratching away some dried flour on your forehead, you groan softly. 
 “I can’t just wait,” you tell your ceiling. 
 Although unmoving, it seemed to agree with you. 
 Sluggishly heaving yourself out of bed, you reluctantly turn on your kitchen lights and begin boiling some water. 
 Once you and Jaemin transitioned from cafés to your apartments, he brought you a new oolong tea box every week. One of your cupboards held the various containers, sorted by shape, size, and color. He even bought you oolong tea candles.
 Rolling some of the oxidized plant into a tea bag, you slowly bounce it in and out of your steaming mug. As you sip your tea, the usual warm feeling of comfort doesn’t settle in your chest. Glancing back at your darkened bedroom where your phone lies, you wait for Jaemin’s text to brighten the room. 
 Nothing. 
 You wait till all the tea has been downed. 
 Still nothing. Just an empty bedroom with a useless phone.
 Scratching off more flour from your forehead, you tell yourself you’ll get a text after you shower. 
 Grabbing your phone, you begin peeling off your clothes as you head to the bathroom. No matter how hard you turn the handle, the water can’t get hot enough. About halfway through scrubbing your body, you give up. You need to look. Wrapping a towel around your body, you carefully dry your hands and then reach for your phone.
 Your heart almost leaps out of your chest when you see a notification. But it’s not a text, it’s an email. An email from Columbia University School of the Arts. Your top choice.
 Quivering legs bring you back to the kitchen. With your towel tightly wrapped around your chest, you boil more water and dip another tea bag. When your mouth finds the curve of the cup, no noise comes from your sipping lips. You open the email on your phone and cover your eyes with your hands.
 Peeking through your fingers, you read: 
Dear Y/N,
The Committee on Admissions has carefully reviewed your application and we are very sorry to inform you that we cannot offer you a place in Columbia University MFA Writing Program. 
 You don’t bother reading the next sentence. 
 You delete the email and open your text messages. Blinking slowly, you examine your screen.
 Green. Your two texts to Jaemin have turned green. 
 You open your phone app. In the Recents, Na Jaemin is listed on every single line. You could scroll all the way down and it would only be his name. Clicking on his name, it rings and rings and rings. 
 You gulp down your oolong tea and pour more hot water into your mug.
 Your phone lights up.
 Clicking on the bubbled rectangle, you realize it’s another admissions email.
Dear Y/N,
On behalf of the Faculty Committee, I thank you for your interest in our MFA for Writers and Poets at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. I am sorry to say that we are not able to invite you to begin the program next semester. 
 Delete.
 You call Jaemin again. 
 Nothing.
 You boil more water and grab more tea bags. You haven’t eaten much today. After Renjun had visited you at work, you didn’t feel like eating. The caffeine in the tea is making your veins pulse and your fingers twitch. But still you sip.
 You call Jaemin again. It rings until you can’t bear hearing the sound anymore. 
 Your phone lights up. 
 Another rejection email and more silence. 
 There’s no room for anything else but silence.
Tumblr media
 “How was your trip?” you ask, not hiding the bitterness in your voice.
 You were closing the pizza shop tonight. A greasy tower of pizza trays, containers, and kitchen tools was stacked next to the sink and this was the last thing preventing you from going home and staring at your black ceiling for another three hours. And now, there was a boy with newly dyed hair standing in your way too. 
 Jaemin steps next to you at the sink. The excitement in seeing you again quickly melts into concern. He knows something’s up. He raises his hand to your cheek to wipe away a streak of flour but he thinks better of it and sighs in defeat. “Pretty shitty.”
 With your hands grinding the foaming sponge into a plastic lid, you raise your eyebrows without raising your eyes. “Really.” 
 Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Jaemin tries not to groan. “Yeah.”
 It was one the tip of your tongue, Take any pretty pictures? You wanted to know so badly if the photos he took were worth leaving you for. But you feared what he would ask for in return.
 Before he had left, Jaemin had promised to show you the photos he took when he flew back from Venezuela and in exchange, you would read him some of your poetry. But as you looked at him now, you couldn’t help but wonder - what could you read to him? Poems so uninspiring and dull that would never leave your journals or laptop? Poems so meaningless and insignificant that weren’t good enough for any writing program?
 “I missed–”
 “No,” you shake your head while slamming your palms over your ears. “I don’t want to hear it.”
 “You don’t want to hear that I miss you?”
 You shake your head harder, the nails of your fingers digging into your ear. You’re angry, no, infuriated, that Jaemin was gone when you most needed him. “Nope.”
 Jaemin frowns as he tries yanking your hands away from your ears. “Why, tell me why.”
 Slipping away from his grasp, you turn away. You’re blinking too fast but you swallow hard to prevent the tears. You don’t want to accept your failure but there’s nothing else to say. 
 “I—I got rejected,” you whisper. “From every writing program I applied to…So, I’m stuck here.”
 Of course, you wanted to get out of this fucking job and town and continue writing poetry in somewhere far more wonderful than here but there was something else. A part of you thought, maybe if you were accepted into graduate school, you would be somewhat on the same level as Jaemin. Then whatever was happening between you two could make some sense. But no, you’re too stupid, too plain, and much too insignificant to be worthy of someone like Jaemin. 
 Jaemin sits next to you, looking flabbergasted. “How could they not accept you. I read your personal statements and application essays, and they blew my mind. You’re overqualified.”
 “Clearly not,” you choke. “I’m going to be in debt, stuck making pizzas forever while you’re becoming a surgeon–”
 “That’s not true,” Jaemin interrupts sharply. “I was rejected too,” he glares at you as your expression softens.
 “You were rejected?” you echo.
 Jaemin looks at his feet. “Yup. From all the med schools I applied to.” 
 “When—when did you find out?” you ask slowly.
 “I only had access to wifi for like an hour while I was buying food in the capitol. When I sat in Starbucks, I was hit with rejection email after rejection email. Then…” Jaemin stops to support his head with his hands. “Then my mom called me,” his voice tightens before he turns his reddened eyes to you, “What was I supposed to say to her? Sorry I didn’t get into any of the six medical schools I applied for? Sorry I couldn’t achieve the one thing she asked of me?”
 You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he buries his face into your neck. “I—I’m so sorry Jaemin.” 
 “Anyways,” Jaemin sniffs as he wipes away a few stray tears, “I didn’t take any photos worth your pretty face.” He tries to chuckle but it’s strangled. 
 You narrow your eyes. You remember your anger again. “What about that Pulitzer prize-winning photo?”
 What? Jaemin leans back to better examine your face. 
 Impatient with his silence, you take a step back. All the insecurity and uncertainty have been rooted so deeply in your relationship with Jaemin. Because ... you love Jaemin. You think you always have, in a way. And despite his obvious adoration, you fear that you’re not enough. 
 “Why the hell do you like me Jaemin?” 
 Jaemin glares at you. 
 “What kind of question is that? Think about it… why the hell do you like me?”
 You’re falling onto the freshly mopped floor. For some reason, you can’t stand being on your feet anymore. You bring your knees to your chin, soapy hands covering your eyes. You’re so tired. 
 “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I just do.”
 Jaemin quickly sits beside you, wrapping himself around you. “Well, now you know how I feel.”
 “Jaemin, what am I going to do?” you whisper. “I didn’t get in anywhere…”
 Jaemin is pulling your hands away from your eyes but his hands stay on your wrists. His eyes on yours, you try shrinking from his gaze but his hands keep you close. Why does he always make me feel exposed?
 “I didn’t get in anywhere either,” he reminds you.
 You look down, shame slowly pooling in your stomach. All this time, Jaemin has always been considerate of you. It was time that you let go of your insecurities and start being considerate of him too.
 “Did you end up telling your mom?” you ask hesitantly.
 Jaemin’s gaze darts to the side. “No. I told her what she wanted to hear.”
 “How did that go?”
 Jaemin forces a laugh. “You know what’s crazy? She wasn’t even happy for me - when I told her I might get a Pulitzer.”
 You bring Jaemin’s hand into your lap. “I’m sorry, Jaemin.”
 “So then I told her I got into every med school I applied to. I don’t know why I lied. I think I just wanted her to be proud of me for once. But she sounded… I dunno.” 
 You tightened your grip on Jaemin’s hand. He still hadn’t raised his eyes to yours. 
 “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the Pulitzer,” Jaemin says slowly. “I was waiting for my mom to call me back because I wanted to tell her first.”
 You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry for getting mad about it.”
 “It’s alright, I get it.”
 You don’t like Jaemin’s vacant expression so you try to smile. “You hungry? I’m sure you had a long flight.”
 His eyes finally meet yours, a small smile tugging at the sight of yours. “Yeah, a bit.”
 “How ‘bout I make you a potato pizza?”
 “No, you already shut off the oven and put everything back into the walk-in.”
 You’re already standing up, determined to make him the best potato pizza. “Don’t worry about it, I open the shop tomorrow anyways.”
 “Can—can you cut it into a heart shape, like before?” Jaemin requests hopefully.
 “Of course,” you grin genuinely. “Whatever you want.”
 After a 30 minute process of waiting for the oven to reheat and preparing the ingredients, you and Jaemin sat in a booth together, eating pizza with one hand and holding each other’s hand with the other. The both of you ate without talking, mutually pondering your murky future. Eventually, Jaemin decided to break the tension. He wanted to make you smile again. 
 “You know I used to stare at you in the kitchen from this exact booth?” 
 You almost snort in laughter. “How could I forget?
 “In hindsight, I was such a creep. But since it worked out between us, I feel like it was kinda sweet.”
 You wrinkle your nose. “You’re just lucky.”
 Jaemin nods vigorously, squeezing your palm. “Definitely.”
 Letting his crust fall, Jaemin stares at his empty paper plate. He can’t remember the last time he ate something so fast. “You know, I think the last time I ate a potato pizza was when I first met you.”
 You slumped back against the booth’s cushion. “Whoa, same for me I think. I didn’t dare make one after Taeil got so angry.”
 Jaemin grimaces. “I’m sorry for getting you into trouble.”
 You shake your head. “No worries.” Wiping your sauced lips with a napkin, you sigh. “Besides, I’m in bigger trouble now.”
 Jaemin didn’t know what to say to make it better so you just sit in silence. But this time, the silence didn’t weigh as heavily with Jaemin’s hand in yours.
 “You feeling better now?” Jaemin asks quietly.
 You nod. “I’m okay if you’re okay.”
Tumblr media
 For fucks sake, you’re an adult. You can tell a guy you like him. Especially one that flew you out to another country. You know he likes you so just say it!
 “Why are you glaring at me,” Jaemin mumbles, tiredly looking up from his laptop. 
 He had been editing his pictures on the bed ever since you arrived at the hotel room. You were furiously scribbling down a few stanzas before you realized you were just ranting about being horny. But you were too anxious. If you kissed him now, you think you might accidentally bite him.
 Standing abruptly, you walk to Jaemin’s side of the bed and pull at his hand. He instinctively slams his laptop closed and looks up at you with surprise. Jaemin doesn’t try to suppress the soaring feeling in his chest. It’s been there since you slept on his shoulder during the plane ride.
 “Let’s go for a walk,” you demand.
 Jaemin shrugs. “Sure.”
 You need to get out of that hotel room before you accidentally scream at him that you’re in love with him. Walking at an aggressively fast pace, you don’t know what you’re looking for but you want to be alone with Jaemin. 
 “What’s up?” Jaemin prompts gently.
 Something is obviously on your mind. He worries you’re still sad about getting rejected from graduate schools. Jaemin knows this trip is only a temporary fix and eventually, the two of you will have to face the reality that you’re both very, very fucked.
 “I…I” I love you. You’re stumbling on words, on thoughts. You want to say it so badly but you can’t. “…thank you for bringing me here. I really, uh, I really appreciate you.”
 Jaemin smiled tenderly. “Of course. Thank you for coming and I… I appreciate you too.” It was harder to say than he expected. 
 “But you know, I would appreciate you more if you read me one of your poems.”
 You glare at him. “I told you, they’re not ready yet.”
 “I don’t care,” Jaemin whines, grabbing your hands. “Let me inside of that pretty head of yours.”
 “Absolutely not.”
 “At least name a date.”
 “A year from now.”
 Jaemin’s smile is so wide, it’s splitting you in two. 
 “Don���t be silly, tell me a different time.”
 “A month from now.”
 He’s lowering his head to yours. 
 “Tell me a different time.”
 He’s so close.
 “A week from now.”
 But he doesn’t lower his lips onto yours.
 “Tell me a different time.”
 “When we get back to the hotel.”
 Jaemin yanks your hand forward, practically dragging you back where you came. “Excellent, let’s go.”
 “You’re the worst,” you moan loudly. 
 “Love you,” Jaemin sings happily while tugging you further. He doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said while trampling every plant under his impatient feet.
 “Love you too,” you whisper, a stupid smile filling your cheeks.
Tumblr media
 You don’t know what came over you at the hotel. Instead of pulling out your journal, you found yourself pulling up your dress. You honestly didn’t care anymore about seeing Jaemin’s photography or him seeing your poetry. It would all happen eventually. For now, all you wanted was Jaemin.
 Once he had closed the hotel door, you had reached for his neck and brought his lips to yours. It was all happening so fast and yet so slow. You were tugging at his belt and he was kicking off his vans. All of a sudden you were on the bed with your shoes and socks on the floor. Jaemin’s hands slid up your thighs, only raising them from your skin to lift the hem up your stomach.
 “You’re so pretty,” Jaemin whispers as you pull your dress over your head. 
 Too shy and horny to respond, you let out a shaky laugh before connecting your lips. The feeling of your bare chests pressed against each other is making you shiver but it’s not enough. Fingers tucking into Jaemin’s pants, you strain them down. He winces as they rub uncomfortably over his dick but he eventually kicks them off. Pulling down your panties while he tugs off his socks, you swipe a finger down your folds to make sure you’re wet enough. 
 Pushing down a moan, you quickly wipe your finger on your sheets. Impatiently pulling Jaemin’s body onto yours, he squeezes his eyes when he feels your body completely bare against his. Pushing up his chest, you reach your hand down to grab his dick. 
 Fuck. This is really happening. 
 Your hand goes rigid around his cock while your heart quivers between your lungs. Desperate for some sort of movement, Jaemin clumsily rubs his pointer finger between your folds. Your grip loosening under his touch, you begin pumping his boner, pre-cum seeping between your fingers. 
 “Is this okay?” Jaemin mumbles. He knows must be doing something right since your wetness is dribbling down his palm. But he’s greedy, he wants your sighs and moans.
 “Yes, please add another finger,” you whine against Jaemin’s ear while tightening your grip around his length. 
 Groaning quietly, Jaemin releases your fist and pulls your back into his chest. Bringing his middle and pointer finger together, his strokes are more firm. You close your eyes and inhale his natural odor. Pushing your ass against his hard-on, you rub your legs against his. Eventually, your movements become soupier as you buckle under his touch. His fingers demand more skin, more space. 
 Jaemin wishes the lights were on as he watches you tremble and moan. Your night-lit curves, warm skin, and long whines fill his senses. He’s never been so aroused, so hot, so hard.
 “I wanna be inside you,” he whispers in your ear.
 You’re trying to get words out but it’s not working. You’re nodding and turning your body so your back is now lying on the mattress. 
 Emboldened by his words, you frantically push his dick into any space near your vagina. You manage to find your opening after several moans of frustration and unintentional teasing. Letting your knees fall to the bed, you breathe roughly when his dick slowly slides into you. You’re dripping but there’s still weighted friction. As he moves further and further, you twist your face in discomfort and ecstasy. It’s all too much, too tight. Your legs, shoulders, and stomach stiffen as your body tries to decide whether to reject or accept the pleasure.
 Kissing your face and neck feverishly, you let Jaemin ease the tension in your body. As you relax, his cock hits a spot that makes you both groan and all the pressure between your legs seems to melt away. 
 Sensing that you’ve relaxed, Jaemin timidly thrusts. Your pussy completely slickened, his dick slides all the way inside. He flexes his stomach on yours, reveling in the way his hips feel against yours. “Oh fuck,” Jaemin moans. Wrapping his arms tightly around your shoulders, he presses deeper into you. Biting into your neck, he tries to keep his groans at bay. “Shit, I-I’m not gonna last long.” 
 “It’s fine,” you reassure, “Just keep going.” You slip one hand in his and move the other down his back. It’s damp from his sweat and strained from his thrusts but you pull him down even more, trying to get closer and make him push further. Your mouth and legs are widening as Jaemin buries himself into you. 
 Your pussy so warm and sleek, Jaemin licks wet moans into your shoulder as he barrels his cock into you. The trembling friction between your legs and the feeling of your naked chest against his keeps your back curving and juices leaking. Lifting his chest, he stations his hands at your shoulders. With additional leverage, his dick slams into deeper crevices and you whine loudly in satisfaction. Your moans are the only thing keeping Jaemin from cumming. He’ll wait till his cock is about to explode to hear them. 
 “I’m gonna cum,” Jaemin huffs, raising his hips.
 You pull him back onto you, “Inside,” you moan. “Cum inside me.”
 Teeth clenching and eyelids squeezed, Jaemin pumps his semen into you. His taut muscles seem to slump into piles of nothingness and his mind is drained of all thought and reason. All he knows is you and your body.
 Collapsing on top of you, Jaemin heaves a satisfied sigh into your neck. “That was amazing.”
 You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck. Kissing his cheek, you settled your head onto his shoulder. 
 After a few moments of comfortable stillness, you tap your fingers against Jaemin’s closed eyelids. 
 “What?” he mumbles, eyes fluttering. 
 “Mind getting me a towel?” you ask while shifting your ass slightly. Definitely still some cum pooling out of you.
 “Yeah, sure.” Jaemin begins to shift his body upwards before turning to you in realization. “Are you… sore?”
 You laugh. “Of course. I mean, it’s my first time having sex.”
 “You’re a virgin?!”
 “Well, I was.”
395 notes · View notes
ifidiedinadream · 3 months
Note
Im the one who sent the ask about giving Olli a hand job. Feel free to turn it into a request if you want.
of course i want to turn it into a request 😂😂 this was the ask btw:
This mornings fantasy involved my getting my nails done, sending the photo to Olli and getting a reply from him that said "Those would look great with your hand wrapped around my cock." I then go home to him and give him a hand job and when i'm done he licks his cum from my hand and fingers. 😳
and this is what i came up with, hope you like it!! 🩷
also on ao3
Beautiful.
The new nails make you feel like a dark, mystical goddess. They’re long, almond shaped and pitch black, giving your hands an elegant, ethereal vibe to them. You can’t stop admiring them, first curling your fingers towards the palm, then turning your wrist and stretching out your arm right in front of you so you can see the effect from afar.
As soon as you’re out of the nail salon, you snap a picture of them and send it to your boyfriend.
(He’s the first person who should know when you’re feeling especially pretty.)
new nails <3 like them?
You put the phone away, not expecting him to text you back instantly. He’s working from home today after all, recording bass lines he’ll send to Aleksi later, and you’re meeting up with a friend to continue your self care afternoon while Olli is busy with work.
You meet your friend at a coffee shop and have fun together, catching up with the happenings in each other’s lives. You forget about your phone for a few hours, until your friend starts checking the time every so often. It must be time for her to leave, so you grab your phone to see what time it is as well, but a WhatsApp notification catches your attention, making you forget to even look at the clock.
Those would look great with your hand wrapped around my cock.
Your stomach twists in pleasure and you lock your phone immediately, hoping your friend hasn’t noticed anything weird. Soon your hopes get crushed, however, when you see the arch of her brow.
“Are you okay?”
You avoid her gaze, brain already full of images of Olli’s cock, his naked chest, his bedroom eyes. You can already hear the low sounds he would make while you pleasure him in your mind.
“Yeah, everything’s alright, just… Olli texted me, he wants me to… he needs something, so I better go now.”
You pretend not to see the knowing smile on your friend’s face. Thankfully she has somewhere else to be as well, as you suspected, so you don’t have to wait too long to go home.   
***
“Babe, I’m home,” you announce upon opening the front door, half expecting Olli to be secluded in his home studio despite the late hour. However, there are no low frequencies coming from downstairs and his laptop is charging on the coffee table in the living room.
You leave your shoes and outerwear by the door and venture into the house. You find Olli in the bedroom, propped up on his elbows on the bed, looking at you like he’s been waiting.
“Had fun today, honey?”  
You walk over to sit beside him, giving him a greeting kiss on the lips before telling him that yes, you did have a good day indeed. You ask him how the recording session went but he has already taken your hand in his, distracted by your fingers; he’s playing with them, bringing your hand closer to his face to inspect your new nails.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” you ask playfully, because yes, Olli is always supportive when you buy new clothes or get your hair done, telling you how beautiful you are to him, but the sudden interest in your nails can only mean he’s still thinking about the text from earlier.
“What, can’t I just find my girl’s hands beautiful with no ulterior motives?”
With the hand he’s not holding, you go to slowly touch between his legs, not at all surprised to find him semi hard already.
“So it’s not this you want?”
You touch him teasingly and Olli watches his cock get harder by the second in silence, his lips parted. He still says nothing when you take him out, only to hold him and admire how pretty your hand is.
“Like what you see?” you ask in his ear, before diving in to kiss the side of his face and neck. His breathing isn’t as calm as before.
“Can I take a few pictures? For tour?”
You giggle, you couldn’t have asked for a better affirmative answer. You tilt his face and kiss his mouth, letting the lust unravel for good.
“Of course you can.”
Olli reaches his hand to grab his phone, and in the meantime you retreat your hand to spit into it. You wrap your hand around his cock again and keep it still, waiting for him to snap his pictures.
“Now a video.”
You start stroking him slowly, up and down, unable to stop staring at it: his dick is hard and dark with desire, whereas your hand around it looks so luxurious and sophisticated with your new nails, almost cold in contrast to his throbbing, needy cock. In the meantime, Olli is taking a video of it, and only when he’s satisfied and stops the recording do you pick up your pace, capturing his lips in your own in a searing kiss.
Olli hums in your mouth, his tongue everywhere and his hands on your head to keep it in place, all the while you’re still stroking, moving your hand like you know drives him insane, twisting your wrist just how he likes it. You don’t have to wet your palm again, because he starts leaking pretty soon, so you go gather those pretty drops on the top and smear them all over his cock to make the movements smoother.
If Olli breaks the kiss, it’s only to take a moment to breathe; he kisses you more, but then, when the pleasure becomes too much, he starts biting at your bottom lip, with increasing force. You switch hands, determined not to slow down now, and Olli bites into your lip especially hard when he finally comes, letting out a whine. You stroke him through it, feeling the hot cum coat your hand and fingers, loving how you can feel Olli tremble under your touch.
You let him go when his body relaxes. He puts his hands behind him for support, leaning back just a bit as his chest rises and falls, his curls all over his forehead. You’re throbbing, wanting nothing more than for him to fuck you, but in all honesty, watching him so blissed out (and it having been your doing) is a lovely activity just the same.
When he’s caught his breath, he grabs your hand, and at first you think it’s to kiss the inside of your wrist, as he often does after sex as some sort of thank you; but then he’s kissing the backside of your hand and licking and sucking at your fingers still covered in cum, and you can’t help but snort.
“Dirty, dirty boy.”
It’s the only thing you get to say before he pushes you down to lie on the bed and kisses you.
8 notes · View notes
indecentpause · 7 months
Text
Find the Word Tag
@winterandwords tagged me to find eat, lost, wait, and stress! thank!
from The Most Beautiful Puzzle:
eat:
The next morning when you wake up, the power is still out. Shit. Hopefully your food will be okay. At least there’s no meat. The dairy is probably going to be pretty iffy, though, and your ice cream is definitely going to be melted. You peek in the freezer. It’s barely chilled. But you take out your cookies and creme ice cream anyway and decide to have ice cream soup for breakfast. You drink it straight from the container. No point in dirtying a perfectly good bowl and spoon, especially since Josselin isn’t going to eat any of it.
lost:
A promising application in which you edit a paper to apply for a job as a student tutor at the community college not too far away comes across your screen, and you easily get so lost in it, you lose track of your laptop battery and it shuts off halfway through. You curse under your breath, but don’t have time to think about it too long, because your noon alarm goes off to remind you to take your meds. After you pop them and head back into the living room, you call out, “Josselin, take your meds!” He doesn’t reply. You frown. Slowly and quietly, you approach his bedroom door, and knock softly. No answer. The door is cracked, so you peek in. “Josselin? Meds?” No response, not even the expected grumping. You push the door open. He’s gone.
wait:
“Follow up with Britney,” Josselin continues. “She knows at least one person who sells cocaine and she can point him out in a picture. Last year’s football team. They might have a lead. They have to have gotten it somewhere.” “We’re looking into the current football team and digging up all the coaches. Their names aren’t hard to find, but a lot of the people we’re looking for don’t have a history. I have someone looking up addresses. I should speak with her now, actually–” “Britney first,” Josselin insists. “The poor kid is traumatized. Get what you need to get and either arrest her or send her home, but don’t leave her here waiting.” The Inspector rolls his eyes, but he says, “All right.”
stress:
“Backup should be there any minute,” Josselin continues. “If not already. But Dona wanted to warn us in case he got away and came back.” “So, we’re staying at his house, until…?” “Until it’s safe to go back. Restraining orders take much longer than they should, considering how important they are. But maybe the upside is that this will move it along faster.” You groan, soft and tired, and the GPS tells you to take the next exit. You don’t know how long it takes to get to the Inspector’s condo. It could take moments, it could take days. The stress and exhaustion have burrowed so deep into your brain that everything else blurs together.
tagging @rydykg @witchesintheskye @drippingmoon @oh-no-another-idea to find the words relief, relax, calm, and chill.
10 notes · View notes
voraciousvore · 5 months
Text
Boarding School for Giants (20/25)
------ Chapter 20 ------
When we got to the lunchroom and collected our food, Stephanie was already waiting for us at our table. I supposed her fascination with “little people,” as she put it, would make her a regular feature around us. As long as she didn’t obsess over me or constantly want to pick me up like an action figure, I wouldn’t mind. She got excited when she saw me, and immediately started chatting and asking me lots of questions. I was as patient and informative as I could be, although I found it a bit of a chore to talk so much while trying to eat lunch at the same time. Joey appeared mildly annoyed that Stephanie was imposing on our time together, but he bore the burden with stoicism, and remained polite towards her. 
As we were talking, Joey and Stephanie both unexpectedly fell silent, looking behind me. I turned around to behold Mr. Henderson leaning over me. He looked worn out and a little stressed, with bags under his eyes indicating his fatigue. He smiled weakly. 
“Hello,” he greeted us. “Sorry to interrupt, but would you mind coming to see me in my office when you’re done with your lunch, Eren?”
“Sure,” I replied. I wondered what he wanted from me, and why he was so tired. I missed his calming presence, being around him and talking to him, since he had been mysteriously absent after the hospital visit. I chastised myself internally for my selfish thinking. I couldn’t assume I was the center of everything when he had a school to run, especially after the principal had been fired. He gave a small wave of his hand in acknowledgement and strolled away. We looked after him with curiosity. 
“I wonder what that’s all about?” Joey questioned, voicing our shared thoughts. Stephanie’s eyes gleamed at the opportunity to spread fresh gossip. 
“I suppose I’ll find out soon enough,” I mused. We finished up our lunches and Joey took me to Mr. Henderson’s office. The vice principal was sitting at his desk, brooding over some paperwork and massaging his temple. When he saw us, he indicated for Joey to place me on the desk. The bell rang to signal the end of lunch, so Joey had to leave for his next class. Mr. Henderson gestured for him to close the door on his way out, leaving us alone in his office. 
“Sorry I wasn’t able to seek you out earlier,” the giant apologized. “I’ve been very busy these past couple of days. As I’m sure you’re aware by now, the principal was removed from his position, so I’ve had to take over his responsibilities until we can hire a suitable replacement.” 
“It’s fine, I understand,” I replied. After a pause, I asked, “What did you want to see me about?” 
“Several things,” Mr. Henderson answered. “First off…” He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out my bike. “I found this in the principal’s desk. I believe it belongs to you?” 
“Yes!” I confirmed emphatically. I hadn’t been certain I would ever get my bike back, so I was very pleased. 
“I suppose that explains why you were walking to school when I found you on Monday,” he said, a tinge of sorrow creeping into his tone. “I’m sorry. I should have realized something was wrong.” He had a mournful, distant expression that broke my heart. It wasn’t fair for him to feel guilty for not noticing I was in pain, particularly when I was trying to conceal the truth. 
“No. I should have told you what was going on,” I reassured him. His giant hand was resting on the desk, so I walked over and patted him on a knuckle. “You can’t blame yourself for what you didn’t know.” He smiled down at me, still looking a little sad. 
“Anyways, besides that, I also have this for you.” He reached into his desk again and removed a tiny box, being careful not to unintentionally crush it. “I found room in the budget to order you a laptop for your schoolwork. Now you can type up and email your homework. It even has a camera so you can take pictures of handwritten assignments, including tests when you’re done taking them, and send them, so they will be properly scaled up for your giant teachers.” 
I beamed with joy. “Wow! Thank you so much Mr. Henderson! I’ve never had my own personal computer before! This will make schoolwork so much easier!” I had not expected to be showered with gifts today. I was ecstatic to think how a computer would grant me more independence by enabling me to complete my assignments on my own, and take charge of my school performance. I stuffed the box into my backpack to open later. 
“I’m glad you like it,” the giant said with a smile. “Now to more… difficult matters.” His visage became serious, and he lapsed into silence for a long moment. “To be honest, I’m not sure how to begin this conversation. It’s… a heavy topic.” My eyes searched his. He seemed nervous, hesitant, even evasive, an unusual state for a professional and well-spoken man like him. 
“May I… share something personal with you?” he asked, almost sheepishly, as if asking for forgiveness rather than permission. I nodded wordlessly. “If I explain where I’m coming from, it might contextualize what I’m going to tell you,” he continued. He kneaded his hands distractedly, like one might squeeze a stress ball, and sighed. Clearly, whatever personal thing he was going to tell me, he was having trouble spitting it out. 
I thought some encouragement might help. “Mr. Henderson, you’ve already seen me cry and spill my guts to you. I think it’s about time you reciprocate,” I demanded half-jokingly, putting my hands on my hips in a defiant stance. My curiosity over what he was struggling to tell me was waxing. 
He smiled gently. “Alright.” After taking a deep breath, he began, “I started my career in the school system as a teacher. Teaching, the act of nurturing young minds and hearts, and fostering future generations, is a passion of mine. I like working with children and watching them follow their dreams and grow into upstanding members of the community. I feel like I am making a positive difference in the world.” 
He sighed again. “Several years ago, I was happily married. It seemed like all the goals I strived for in life—a fulfilling career, my own house, a wife, starting my own family—were within my grasp. However…” His facial features twisted up in pain. “My wife and I—we were unable to conceive a child together. As fate would have it, the problem was on my end. Regrettably, my seed is infertile. My inability to impregnate my wife drove a wedge between us in our relationship, since we both desired children.” 
He hung his head close to the desk, and his voice cracked with emotion. “My wife divorced me for another man who could give her what she wanted: a child. I was left behind, wifeless and childless. I felt like I had lost everything.” He ceased talking for a minute. Since he had comforted me before, now it was my turn to do the same, so I stretched up and touched the only part of his face I could reach, his chin, and caressed it softly. He had a thin layer of stubble on his chin that scratched my hand. He was soothed by the gesture, and laid his massive head on the desk so I could reach him better. He looked a bit silly in this position, but I appreciated having him closer. 
“I still had my job at the school, which provides me some fulfillment, and without any distractions outside of work I was able to rise in the ranks to the position I’m in today. However, the void in my heart from my loss was never filled. I… still want to be a father someday.” His story, so full of pain, touched me deeply. I understood intimately what he meant when he said he had a hole in his heart, because I, too, had a hole inside me from the loss of my father, torn open wider by my mother’s atrocious betrayal. I rubbed the giant’s cheek with my hand, and tried my best to give him a hug, wrapping my arms around his face. I felt his facial muscles twitch as the corners of his lips turned up in a grateful smile. 
“Eren… do you believe in fate?” he asked me. 
“I’m… not sure,” I admitted, shrugging. “Not really.” 
“I suppose it doesn’t matter. What I’m trying to say is, sometimes it feels as if things happen for a reason. People are brought together, from different places and walks of life, for a purpose. Whether by fate, or some other force. Anyways…” He brought his hand towards me and gently embraced me with his fingers. “I like to believe that maybe we were brought together for a reason. You, in need of a loving father, and me, a man who has always wanted a child, and can’t have one…” He trailed off. I looked deep into his coffee eyes and felt a wave of warmth fill me, like wrapping up in a thick blanket. 
“Eren, I’ve only known you for a short time, but I’ve grown quite fond of you. You’re a strong-willed young lady and I think you have great potential. You deserve the love and guidance that only a father can give.” 
“Th-thank you…” I murmured. I wasn’t sure what else to say. 
“I know this is a difficult topic to discuss, which is why I’ve approached it in such a roundabout way. But… from what you’ve told me… your mother refuses the responsibility of parenting you. Now, as long as you’re in her custody, there’s nothing I can do to help your situation. However, if you want me to, I can call her on your behalf, and have her legally relinquish you.” He raised his head off the desk and gave me a serious, intense look, resting his chin on his hand and keeping his head low so I could stare closely into his eyes. “Now, I know it’s no secret that being around giants has been a… difficult adjustment for you, to say the least. One option for you in this scenario: You could go back to live on the human side of the wall. We’d have to find you an orphanage, or foster parents, but you would be able to be with your own kind again. You’d never have to see another giant in your life, if you didn’t wish it.” 
I gaped at him in shock. I was not expecting this development. “On the other hand, if you decide you want to stay, I would be happy to adopt you and give you a loving home. Only if that’s what you want, of course!” He patted my head with the tip of his finger. I melted under his touch. “What do you think?” 
“This is… a lot to take in,” I confessed. “I need some time to think it through.” 
“Take as much time as you need, and come to me when you’re ready,” Mr. Henderson said smoothly. “Oh! I almost forgot. I have one more thing for you.” The giant pulled out of his desk another tiny box, this one so small in comparison to his fingertips I was surprised he hadn’t squished it. “So, technically, according to school policy, we don’t allow students to have cell phones, as you know. We’re going to bend the rules a bit here though.” He smirked. “This is a smartwatch you can use to make calls. You can also install an app that allows you to share your location, essentially a tracker.” 
Mr. Henderson carefully handed me the box. I opened it and slipped the sleek, high-tech device onto my wrist. Lowering his voice, the giant explained, “I got you this watch for your own safety. I’m not going to force you to use it or connect it to my phone, but know the option is there for you. If you need help, or find yourself in an emergency, you can call or text me directly or share your location so I can find you if you’re taken.”  
I nodded, feeling shaken at the thought of a hostile giant snatching me up and stealing me away. “Let’s definitely set this thing up.” We took a moment to program Mr. Henderson’s cellphone number into my new watch and set up the tracker. I felt much safer knowing I had a direct link to my protector. 
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Eren?” Mr. Henderson inquired, wrapping his hands around me as he lifted me off the desk. 
I pondered for a moment. “Call my mom, and get started on that at least,” I directed, swallowing a lump of bitterness in my throat. “I’ll let you know what I decide to do afterwards, but if she doesn’t want to be my mother anymore, then I don’t want to be her daughter.” I scowled. 
“Okay,” Mr. Henderson agreed quietly. He opened the door to his office and gingerly set me down on the floor, handing me my bike and backpack. “Come back to me when you’re ready, Eren. Farewell for now.” 
Next chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/voraciousvore/731608401665310721/boarding-school-for-giants-2125?source=share
1st chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/voraciousvore/731600430392639488/boarding-school-for-giants-125?source=share
10 notes · View notes
ggomos-maribat · 2 years
Text
D-DAY Chapter 7 | D-Day II
TW: Graphic depictions of injury and violence, death
Adrien reclined on his swivel chair, feeling the sun hitting his back through the windows. To his past self, the place was his childhood bedroom. To his present, it was an office. A space for work. His videogame collection had been replaced with infinite shelves of books and binders; the once playful orange of one of his walls was taken over by a muted blue; and the TV set had been moved aside to make space for a large desk.
He stared at his dead phone beside his laptop. He had turned it off to silence the pesky calls and messages he had been receiving nonstop since that morning.
He thought it would soon die down in a matter of hours. But he was wrong. His laptop let out a loud shrill, signaling a call from Mayor Bourgeois himself. Adrien released an exasperated sigh, answered the call, and leaned back again.
"Adrien! Thank goodness!" Came the mayor's panic-stricken voice. "You weren't answering your phone at all!"
"What can I do for you, Monsieur Bourgeois?" He asked monotonously.
"I've been getting calls from everywhere! International agencies, news stations, politicians. Oh, it's a mess! They want to hear from the source of those videos. You can reach out to Ladybug for them, can't you Adrien?"
He touched his fingertips together. "You know very well that I already announced my retirement, and so has Ladybug. I have no means of 'reaching out' to her whatsoever."
"But—but you don't understand! The hotlines have been going off since the videos were released. People are booking flights to find out what's happening! I can't possibly turn them away!" Mayor Bourgeois bleated, his voice rising an octave. Adrien pictured him sweating bullets under the scrutiny of the public.
Adrien decided to get a little more aggressive. "What do you want me to do? The videos speak for themselves. I've said what I had to say. I'm not Chat Noir anymore, and Ladybug's not showing up until another villain terrorizes Paris again."
"You are the last contact to the heroes! Why did you have to put out those videos? What about our tourism—"
"We already told you about the release of the videos even before we started making them. Don't tell me you didn't prepare for what's to come after that." A foot tapped on the floor in annoyance. "Ladybug said and I quote 'I want to imprint on the whole world what happened to Paris so that they know about the city they left behind, so that the people's suffering will not be forgotten.'"
We didn't release those videos on a whim.
"But—"
"As far as my knowledge goes, you are the mayor, Monsieur Bourgeois. Now you have to speak for the people of the city." Adrien lowered his tone, nearly imitating a threat. "And heaven forbid you put the reputation of Parisians on the line."
His thoughts recounted the vehemence of the Parisian government against the heroes during the appearance of Hawkmoth, and its gradual descent to complacency as they relied on him and Ladybug to rid the city of all its problems.
He remembered their constant pleas, to at least offer a little help to the civilians, especially those emotionally scarred, and how their suggestions fell upon deaf ears. He recalled a fuming Chloe scolding her cowering father, who claimed that it was the other officials' decision to let the heroes handle Paris themselves.
The mayor was on thin ice. There were implications from those videos, consequences that would affect Paris for a long period of time. The City of Lights could be ostracized by the rest of the world when people realize how numbed its civilians were.
Adrien, too, was falling into the spotlight because of his heavy revelations. About his father. About his identity.
"For those looking for me, tell them that I'm not accepting calls nor visitors at the moment," Adrien added. "If you'll excuse me—"
"Wait, please!" The mayor interrupted. "Just help me out here. What do I tell them? Should I say something about the Miraculous?"
"I'm not sure. Should you?" His scoff was similar to that of Felix's. "Think about it properly.”
He ended the call, not wanting to hear another word from him. He only wanted silence for the entire day. To him, it wasn't only the day for Paris' uncovering. It was also a day of commemoration. They had meticulously arranged and compiled those videos to bring justice to everyone in the city.
And for themselves. For the heroes.
For years, they had been held captive under their duty to protect while they fought against a ruthless madman. My father. No . . . I can't even call him that now. He's just Gabriel.
He snapped out of his short reverie when he heard his laptop ring again. This time, it was a caller he'd gladly talk to. He tapped on a key and Marinette's voice sounded out. "Adrien, can you come here for a minute?"
He stood up and brushed down his outfit, beaming. "Gladly."
---
The manor was in chaos.
They gathered in the Batcave, wearing tensed jaws and darkened expressions. Bruce was the most stirred up, despite being restrained in his movements.
Jason's gaze wandered over to Tim, who was hunched over a chair and had his head bowed. Jason shifted on his feet. Tim had been in that position for so long. Unmoving.
"If she wasn't involved in this, why did she disappear?" Bruce asked.
Alfred looked just as exasperated as the rest. "I assure you, Master Bruce, Miss Marinette is a trustworthy person. Though I have no knowledge of her reasons for leaving or her current whereabouts, I respect her decision albeit the suddenness."
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oracle, what do we know so far?"
"A total of seven hundred and two videos have been found." Barbara looked down on her phone. "And counting. Source can't be tracked down. We're guessing it's magic. But it's safe to assume everything came from Paris."
She cleared her throat as she pushed her glasses up. Jason noted the lines under her eyes, feeling a twinge of sympathy. "There are three categories of videos. The first is labeled only with numbers and recordings of the incidents in Paris. The last four digits make up dates, while the first two digits aren't clear. We're thinking it's the number of years since those 'akumas' first appeared."
"The second category has videos labeled with 'W', which stands for 'witness' and the same digits, referring to the date of the incident they're recounting. These ones are interviews of those who have direct relations to the akumas or had close encounters with them."
Dick drummed his fingers on the railing. "The third category?"
"There are less of these videos compared to the other ones. Same labels but with 'AV' at the start. 'Akumatized villain'. Personal stories of people who were akumatized."
"Tim." Bruce's tone cut sharply in the air. "You mentioned that Marinette said something to you before the videos were released."
All eyes went towards Tim. Jason shuffled uncomfortably again. It was clear that Tim was devastated—they all knew he and Marinette were close. He looked devoid of his soul, left as a shell with no explanation of her departure.
"Weird stuff. She said today was going to be D-Day. That's it," Tim replied weakly, not once lifting his head.
"Are you sure she hasn't been doing anything else?"
"Master Bruce—"
"What if she's done something here?"
Jason bit his tongue. As expected from the old man. He thinks everyone is suspicious and he's all paranoid now that she was inside his house.
"She doesn't know about us," Tim insisted.
Dick moved closer to Tim. "B, you're thinking too much into it. We're not even sure if she was involved—"
"Of course, she's involved. She knew about the videos. She came from Paris." It was Damian who spoke up this time. "Unsurprising if she tried to get into Drake's head—"
"Don't you dare say that about her!" Tim lunged at Damian, but was held back by Dick. Jason rarely saw Tim this enraged; his glare was jarring, paired with bloodshot and swollen eyes. His unkempt appearance emphasized that he was just about to break.
"Tt. It is true. She had an ulterior motive in working inside the manor."
"Damian." Jason raised his voice. "Alfred already said Marinette's clean. You're accusing her without enough evidence."
Tim tore Dick's hand away from him and stalked out of the cave. Jason kept an eye on him as he disappeared out of view. He wanted to help. But he'd be the last person Tim would want to talk to. They needed to give him time.
"Has the JL found anything?" Dick asked.
"Nothing," Bruce answered bluntly. "We have to go to Paris ourselves to get answers."
Jason didn't see what the problem was other than Bruce being a control freak again. He'd watched a handful of videos himself and had grown queasy seeing the brutalities. But they were finished. There was no threat waiting for them since Paris was at peace now.
And yet the mysteries kept piling up.
---
Tim's head was throbbing. He threw his pillows aside to make way for his laptop and plopped down on his bed. His body was begging for sleep but he wasn't satisfied until he got the answers he needed. Did Marinette really experience all of that? How many times had she died?
He hadn't even noticed he was crying again until he felt the wetness on the back of his hand.
Tim rubbed his eyes and scrolled through the videos. It was no use trying to figure out where exactly they came from. They hadn't watched all the videos yet, so there must be something that could help clear things up.
He stopped in the middle of the video selection.
AV030202 - First.
Marinette.
Marinette was on the thumbnail.
How had he missed that?
He clicked on the video, noticing that it was shorter than all the others, only about six minutes in length. Adrenaline pumped in his blood as he watched the video start. The first face that appeared was that of the heroine, Ladybug, who Tim remembered from the videos of the akuma attacks and witness accounts.
Ladybug was sitting closer to the camera, unlike the other ones who had been interviewed. Her lips were drawn into a fine line and her fingers were tight against the edge of the table.
"At the time of the release of this video, you may already know about the Paris situation. During the compilation and filming of the witness videos, a few Parisians have come forward and volunteered to share the story of their akumatizations."
She took a breath. "At first, my team and I were hesitant about this. The reason why we did not plan to include the akuma victims in our videos was because we were afraid that they would be blamed and misunderstood. However, those who volunteer have been extremely persistent." Her blue eyes glinted with a dangerous edge. "I want to say this now: the akumatized civilians were victims, not criminals. They have no memory of their akumatizations except for the fact that their emotions had been used against them. They are not in full control of themselves when they are in their akumatized forms. Those who had chosen to speak about their experiences are brave souls, and I hope that you will not condemn them for their actions."
Ladybug stood up. "With that, we'll begin with one of the first volunteers."
She walked out of the camera's view to reveal Marinette sitting behind the table. Gone was her usual brightness. She was pale, as if sick, clad in an oversized hoodie and messy hair.
"Hi." The word was barely audible.
"Hi." She tried again, but louder this time. "I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng, formerly akumatized as the Seamstress."
Tim paused the video. Marinette . . . akumatized before.
He debated for a few seconds before pressing 'play'.
"I've tried my best not to get akumatized all those years." She cracked a smile. "But I guess everyone has their breaking point. I've been bottling . . . emotions for so long and it just spilled out. I had a lot of responsibilities at that time. As a daughter, a friend, the class representative, and a designer."
"I was co-organizing a charity event that my school decided to hold. There were so many things to take care of and we were short on time for the preparations. Most of the committee leaders backed out at the last minute. I was making calls, ordering materials, designing the decorations, and sending invitations on my own."
"For the most part, I was used to having a lot on my plate. It would cost me a week of all-nighters and missed meals, but it was somehow gratifying if I saw my work pay off." Marinette looked away from the camera. "But it didn't. A day before the event, I found out that one of my classmates was sabotaging everything. She canceled our venue booking, emailed inappropriate messages to our VIPs under my name, and permanently deleted important documents after leaking confidential information about the guests. When I brought it up to our teachers, they only blamed me for it."
"That's when—I don't know—I just snapped." She sighed. "I surrendered to Hawkmoth and became the Seamstress. The next thing I know, I'm on a rooftop and the heroes were standing in front of me."
"I can't speak for the rest of the akuma victims, but I know this: being akumatized isn't easy. Even if you don't remember it, everyone else does. You'd have to deal with the consequences of things you had no control of." She wrapped her arms around herself. Her exhausted, defeated expression was an image burned into memory. "I'd still hear rumors about me. About how the Seamstress was one of the worst akumas to date and one of the hardest to take down."
"I . . . apologize. For letting my emotions run wild. I could've done more to calm myself down.
Listening to her frail voice made his chest squeeze painfully. Make sure to get some sleep. Eat first and take quick breaks. He heard her gentle reminders in his head. No wonder she'd tell me that. She knows what it's like to be half-dead in work, unrecognized for her efforts.
He was still confused about what to feel. Half of him wanted to go to Paris and demand an explanation from her. Run his throat dry, screaming, because she wasn't supposed to leave so soon. She wasn't supposed to leave without telling him.
But the other half wanted to know if she was alright, to check in on her. He wanted to ask how she felt during those attacks. Tell her that he was consumed with guilt without knowing why.
It wasn't only a big day for the world. It was a big day for Paris. All its citizens had their stories and secrets unveiled.
Tim stopped watching to switch to another video. 030202.
The Seamstress herself wasn't in the video but her powers were. Red ribbons the size of carpets were strewn on top of buildings, cars and streets. 
Instead of Ladybug, a blonde boy was adopting the mantle of the heroine, along with one of the temporary heroes, Viperion. The two were leaping across the rooftops, past streaks of large ribbons spreading in the city.
The video transitioned into another view. Strips of cloth branched out from the ribbons and wrapped around helpless civilians. Only their faces were left unexposed. Floating needles came up to those who were entrapped and punctured their skin. Muffled cries escaped from the Parisians until the cloth completely choked them. Some cocooned bodies lied still on the ground.
He looked away, sensing his stomach churning. He had looked through enough videos that day to know that the outcome wasn't pretty.
The video changed again. This time, it was a recording shot through a door left ajar, capturing a scene that looked like it was in a school. The audio wasn't caught, but the picture was clear.
Teachers had their wrists, heads, and legs bound with the ribbon, controlling them like puppets. They were reprimanding a student who was already lying prone on the ground, dead. A blurry shape moved and clapped in the distance. The Seamstress.
When the recording ended, Tim let his eyes drift close for a moment. D-Day. D-Day. D-Day. He'd spent months with her, naively assuming that he already knew everything that was to know about her. But then she became a stranger overnight.
Were her feelings even real? His tangled thoughts recalled Damian's words.
Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who exactly are you? 
chapter list | prev | next
AO3 Link
Taglist: @its-maemain@tinybrie@worlds-tiniest-puff-pastry@the-coffee-fandom @laurcad123
38 notes · View notes
adoracora-elizabeth · 5 months
Text
But papa! Why? Chapter 8
“I have to congratulate you Miss Baxter.” She started, shaking her hand.
“Thank you Milady.”
Cora was surprised to hear her say Milady. Was her mother not talking about this recently? She remembered that her mother was surprised she did not need to call Robert and his family Lord and Lady. It had bothered her that her mother thought England was so far behind, but now here Baxter was saying the same thing.
“Earth is calling.” Rosamund waved her hand in front of Cora’s face.
“I am so sorry, what did you say?” Cora focused on the conversation again.
“I said what a wonderful evening this has been. When do you think we will see the results?”
Cora looked at Phyllis. “I think that we can have the pictures ready by Wednesday. Do you agree, Phyllis?”
Phyllis nodded. “I think that Tuesday is even possible, but Wednesday for sure.”
“That is wonderful, I see Robert is waiting, let us call it a day.” Rosamund said.
The three women walked towards the elevator, where Robert was standing. His hands in his pockets and an annoyed look on his face.
“Where is John?” Cora asked when they reached him.
“He is getting the car. Rosamund, do you still fancy that drink?”
The car? Cora thought. Since when was John his chauffeur and why did he not just use the underground?
“We can go with the five of us, to celebrate this success?” Rosamund continued.
Robert looked at Cora and said with disdain in his voice. “Let us wait with calling this a success. It is a bit early isn’t it.”
Cora didn’t miss his sarcastic tone, but ignore it. Instead she faced Phyllis. “Do you have time to go with us?”
She shook her head. “I am incredibly sorry, but I cannot. I am already later then I said I would be.” Phyllis lowered her eyes. “But I am sure you will enjoy tonight. I will see you on Monday at the office.”
The elevator doors opened and they all got in. Rosamund started talking with Robert, Cora was staring at the floor. She was anxious to go out with Robert. She knew Rosamund was going to be there too and until now she had a good relation with her. But Robert was obviously not happy she was joining them this evening.
“John.” Robert started when they walked towards him standing next to the car. “Do you have time for a drink or two?”
“Right now?” John asked.
“Of course, right now. Lady Rosamund and I are going for some drinks, and I would like for you to join us.”
“Miss Levinson is also joining us.” Rosamund added.
“Maybe next time, I have to get up very early tomorrow morning.”
“Rosamund, I am also going home,” Cora added. It did not feel right to go with them to a bar. Robert was so hostile towards her, that she should not try to interfere in his private life. Now Phyllis and John were not joining them, it was not a work-related evening anymore.
Rosamund looked at her with raised eyebrows. “What? You are leaving me alone with Robert? Where is the fun in that? I thought we would go out together to celebrate tonight. But I guess we will do that another time.
+++
Cora opened her laptop and typed in the search bar: Crawley family. She got a lot of hits, but most of them related to ‘Crawley Advertisements’ Then she tried: ‘Lord Crawley’. Nothing was coming up that was related to Robert or his family. She contemplated, how was she going to find out about the lord and lady part. She then typed: ‘Lady Violet and Lord Patrick.’ This gave her a hit with a photo. Violet was handing out an award to another man. The title said: “Lady Grantham awarding the winner of this year’s flower show.’ Lady Grantham? That was weird, why was Violet called Lady Grantham? Cora copied the name into the search bar and this time she got more hits. There was an article referring to the Grantham’s. They were an old family that got their title many years ago. Patrick and Violet were Earl and Countess of Grantham. Their family name was Crawley, but the title they got was ‘Grantham’. The family-owned a big house up north called Downton Abbey, but the building burned down and was never rebuilt. The company ‘Crawley Advertisements’ was started by Patrick and grew into what it is today. Cora could not find out why the Abbey was never rebuilt. According to what Cora could find, the estate was still theirs. The family still held the title high and they had several ceremonies they attended. Robert was the next in line, and when his father died, he would be Earl of Grantham.
Why had her mother known about this? What was her reasoning? Cora still did not understand why she was here in England. And with this information, she was even more lost. What did ‘Levinson and Son’ need from a British company with a title? It did not make any sense to her.
With a deep sigh, she closed the webpage. She took the memory card Phyllis gave her and she transferred the pictures onto the cloud. There was no need to work on them tonight, but what else could she do? She felt a bit stupid for not going for that drink. Why did she let Robert bully her this much? Because that was what he was doing? He was bullying her, and the comments he constantly made did hurt, she had to admit. She had overheard him calling her Miss Pretty. When she first started at the office, she made sure to look good. She was wearing skirts with nice tight-fitting blouses, but after those comments, she started to wear loser-fit clothes. She did not like the idea, that Robert saw her as a pretty woman without any brain cells. It was not hard to see that Robert liked what he was seeing, and in a way, that was extremely flattering, but it made him even more hostile towards her. As if he needed to prove that he did not like her and hide the fact he liked looking at her.
She had to admit, he was good-looking himself. She had noticed that on the first day, and much to her annoyance she was attracted to him. She catches herself staring at him during meetings.
Cora looked at the clock, it was only nine o’clock. She decided to go out for a walk and to grab drink at the pub next door.
5 notes · View notes
awrldalone · 5 months
Text
27th October 2023, 8.51pm
On a plane to Venice. The two seats next to me are empty: I have space for my long black coat, for my bag, and for my legs. As soon as the light for the safety belt will be turned off I will move to the window seat, to look at the dark earth, the clouds, the sky. The city looked like molten magma while departing, golden and black in the night. No matter how many flights I take, I always marvel at the physics behind it all; at times it feels as simple and mundane as taking a bus, but once I feel the wheels of the plane jumping off the asphalt I am filled of childish wonder.
On Wednesday I had my first Art History test, on Ancient Art. The course has been fairly disappointing so far, and I often have to remind myself it is just the beginning, just a first look at that part of history – but it bothers me, it always has, when things are not done well. What is the point of studying Greek ceramics for a few hours and then moving on? What is the point of barely scratching the surface on sculpture, on architecture, on iconography? I want to dive my fingers into every topic, I want to know everything, about everything.
The test was easy. We even corrected it afterwards, and I only made a few mistakes. One was calling a canthar a kylix. I knew it was not a kylix but my brain could not find the correct word, and so I went with the closest thing in terms of use. A goblet to drink is a goblet to drink. It was the last thing I wrote down before leaving and waiting outside of the class. The other was about the temples in Olympia: while I had understood that Zeus's temple had been built on top of Hera's old temple, formally replacing the cult of the goddess of marriage and family, in reality the two deities were worshipped simultaneously. 
Ca. and I went to the library to work on our presentation on Caravaggio's the Cardsharps. It was too warm in there, so I took off my sweater while flipping through the pages of multiple monographies on the artist. There's not much literature surrounding the Cardsharps, because the original was discovered very recently, and because there is not much to say about it. Its material history is just as interesting as the painting itself, but it is longer and more obscure, and therefore scholars have often opted to gloss over what the eyes can see in favor of figuring out how the painting got in the hands of its last owner. What I find particularly interesting is the amount of copies of it that exist, a bit over twenty, all extremely accurate and all old. 
I found the first known description of the painting by checking the bibliography of a book I was reading. It dates a couple of decades after the death of Caravaggio, when the painting was no longer in the hands of its first owner. I translated it in French, slowly. 
The library was packed, so I ended up having to stand next to a window, my laptop on the sill to be able to charge it. Ca. was sitting behind me, our backs facing each other's. 
We were supposed to have another course afterwards, but once we got to the lecture hall someone told us the professor would not be coming. A., T., L., and I decided we would go thrifting, but we ended up going to 59 Rivoli because it was open. I always see its bright door when walking past it, but I did not know what it was until my friends decided we should go in. It's a squatted building where, cyclically, artists set up their atelier and work on their paintings or sculptures in public. You're allowed to quietly walk and observe, to support the artist or just watch respectfully. The walls are covered in modern-day frescos, and each floor looks different. My favorites were the works of Cynthia Pedrosa, squared, cubic, bedlams of saturated but dark colors. The size of some of the paintings covered half of the wall. 
We ended up having dinner at a crêperie near our university, fifteen minutes or so from the Pantheon. It's small, with a tiny room up some narrow stairs with the walls covered in pictures, portraits and magazines. There's only a few tables, and we took up the last one, in the corner. I got a galette ratatouille gruyere, with some cider; T. got ham and gruyere; L. went for spinach and gruyere. We also had dessert – a simple crêpe with sugar and cinnamon – all for five euros fifty. 
For some reason we ended up talking about love. T. had confessed to L. and me that thing are not going great with his boyfriend. The long distance thing is not working as well as it used to for them, and as he was talking I understood what he was saying. We were on the metro, the only ones talking in front of the sliding doors. 
Last year I would have not understood T. and his problems. I would have said that a few seconds with M. justified a week, a month, two months apart. Now I am not so sure about it, I am doubting everything, but the only moment when I release my tension and let my muscles relax is when I'm in his arms, and the only place where I sleep peacefully is his bed, with him next to me. Yesterday I wrote down, in order not to forget it, "stiffening love". We asked ourselves if love lasts. I don't think so anymore. It transforms in different things. It can turn sour, or it can acquire a better, richer taste. I doubt my grandparents feel anything similar to the way they did when they first met: love starts as a bud, it blooms in a flower and matures into fruit. You either make jam out of it or you let it fall to the ground, like my parents. 
I'm not sure where M. and I stand. I don't know where T. and his boyfriend stand. Perhaps it is not that simple.
After paying, we took the metro again and we went to A.'s place. It's a big apartment, with wooden floors, a metal fireplace, crown moulding. A. lives there with her sister, they each have their own room, a separate kitchen and a proper living room. It was the second time I went there, and this time it was clean, in order. There were no boxes lying around, no clothes piled up or shoes thrown around. They bought a beautiful round table, a silver lamp, they organize their books. 
Le. and H. joined us a few minutes after we arrived. I'm still on the fence about them, I still cannot make up my mind about them, H. especially. I do not like the people he hangs out with. Le. on the other hand is always so bitter when we are in a group, but every time we talk alone we always have such good conversations. The first time we went home together I ended up talking about my parents for half of the bus ride, and he ended up talking about his for the rest of it.
Le. and I ended up leaving at around two, and I got home at around three. I told myself there would be no use sleeping if I had to wake up at six, and so I started packing my suitcase, folding clothes, cleaning. I made myself some toast and a coffee. And then I fell asleep at five, on top of my comforter, still wearing my clothes. I woke up at ten with the sun in my eyes. I missed class.
Last night I went to a Black Country New Road concert. It was insanely amazing; they're the only ones capable of finding rhythm in cacophonies, the only ones able to make such a mess sound good. 
I made a friend. I was there alone, and I saw a guy looking around, avoiding everyone's eyes. I asked myself if he was alone or waiting for someone, and I walked near him. I stopped myself at first, but then I told him - I know it's weird, but are you alone here too? - and he said yes and I felt the knot in my chest dissolve. I am not scared of being alone, but I was scared of his reaction. We ended up exchanging instagram handles, singing and jumping together at times, and watching quietly at others. The band played a new song, they said it was a work in progress and asked us not to sing.
After the concert he had a friend waiting for him. I only had the rain and L.'s address. 
I spent the night with my friends again. We wanted to go clubbing but there was nothing near, and the only bar that looked promising was boring. We went bak to L.'s place and played a French card game, mixing vodka with violet syrup. I find it too sweet, but the color is gorgeous, like an amethyst.
This time I got home alone. I misse day stop and got off at the one afterwards, but it was not that big of a deal because I had to walk anyway.
And now the plane is about to land, and I am back in Venice, and it's already been almost two months since I left. 
-c.
2 notes · View notes
saralayne · 8 months
Text
This Love ~ Part 4 🩵💜
Save The Date
Tim and Lucy argue about wedding details.
Tim and Lucy were enjoying engagement bliss. Lucy would find herself looking down at her left hand seeing her sparkling new diamond ring. Lucy found herself indulging in bridal magazines. It didn’t take long for their apartment to look like a bridal shop had thrown up. Not with dresses or veils. More so, colour palettes and flower samples. Printout after printout from her laptop. Tim would come home from a long 12+ hour day and found their bed covered in samples of anything and everything wedding related. If he didn’t love this woman more than life itself. He probably would have come unglued already. He truly wanted Lucy to have a perfect day.
Lucy came home one day excited about a venue she had found. “Babe, it’s available at the end of 2024” Tim felt disappointment consume him. He didn’t want to wait a year and half to marry the love of his life. He would marry her tomorrow if he could. He had already been married. They didn’t have a traditional engagement. Decided one day they should get married and so they did.
“Luce. Do you really want to wait that long?”
“It’s such a beautiful location to get married. I just want our day to be perfect”
“It will be. As long as you and I are standing at the altar. That’s all we need”
“I’m sorry, Tim. I just want our day to be everything we had dreamt about”
“Lucy. Come on. I won’t even get into how expensive our wedding is becoming. That’s ok because you are worth giving you the wedding of your dreams. I will happily go along with almost everything but not waiting for a year and a half. I am putting my foot down on that. Can’t you see? I want us to be husband and wife. Tomorrow if I could”
“Alright, Tim. Why don’t we just go down to city hall and get it over with”
“Luce. Stop. I never meant that. In no world would I ever want to just get it over with. Not with you”
“I’m gonna take Kojo for a walk. I need a breather”
“Luce. Sweetheart. I’m sorry. I never meant to upset you”
“It’s fine Tim. We’ll figure it out”
“Angela asked me to come over to help Wes put together a treehouse for Jack. Apparently, there is no universe where he can tackle this on his own. I will only be there for a few hours. If that’s ok with you?”
“Sure. Go ahead. Help Wes. I will see you when you get home”
Lucy gives her fiancée a kiss before slipping her shoes on. Opening the door with Kojo in tow. Kojo almost pulled Lucy out the door. Giving Tim a smile as she left.
“Luce, I love you”
“I love you too, babe”
As Tim drove to Angela’s he became lost in his thoughts. Nothing bothered him more than when he and Lucy argued. He never wanted to hurt her.
As he knocked on the door, Angela answered within seconds.
“Thank god you’re here. I need you to keep Wes in check”
“OK, Lopez. Before I head out there. I need some best friend time”
“Of course”
“Lucy and I got into an argument earlier. This wedding is becoming a lot. I put my foot down on something and now I feel terrible. I feel like I am failing her and we are not even married yet”
“Bradford, elaborate”
“Lucy found her dream venue. I saw pictures. It is truly beautiful. It’s not available until the end of 2024. I don’t want to wait that long. I want to give her everything she deserves and I know this wedding is her first and last. The thing is, it took us so long to get to this perfect place. I want to start my life with Lucy as my wife and I do not want to wait. Isabel and I got married on a whim so I never dealt with any planning”
“Tim. First, Isabel and your wedding was quick with no planning because you both wanted to get it done and be married. I know you loved Isabel. But it just shows there wasn’t much care with any wedding details. This. Lucy is completely different. You have never loved anyone the way you love her. Not even Isabel. You can’t even compare the two. Lucy has probably been dreaming of this moment since she was a little girl. You are the first and only man Lucy has truly been in love with and the only man she has seen forever with. Of course, she’s wanting every detail to be perfect, wanting to be the perfect one for you”
“She is. Ang, she is more than perfect for me”
“I know she is. Lucy might not be thinking fully rationally right now. Just wanting to have her dream wedding. Secondly, I completely understand your stance on this. Everyone knows you two have been together in every sense for years now. Even though it took you and Lucy what seems like forever to realize it. You’re finally in that place to begin your lives together. No doubt, you want to call Lucy your wife sooner than later. You need to sit down with Lucy. Calmly and loving. Tell her how you are feeling and explain why you feel so strongly about not wanting to wait. Come up with a venue together, somewhere that means something to both of you. If I know Lucy, she would really appreciate that. There just needs to be a compromise. Lucy is probably just seeing things with a one track mind right now. She is so excited to be marrying her one true love, trust me it’s all Nyla and I hear about at the station when you aren’t around. Maybe, just maybe she is getting a little carried away. Talk to her, Tim”
“You’re right. Thanks Ang”
A few hours later. Tim returned home. He found Lucy asleep on the couch with Kojo nestled right beside her. Kojo always knew when either Lucy, Tim or Tamara was upset and would get much more cuddly. As Tim crouched down, he saw Lucy had been crying. Her eyes were closed but saw the red, puffiness down her cheeks. His heart broke at that moment. Giving Kojo a pat on top of his head. “Hey buddy. Are you taking care of mom? Good boy” as Tim was whispering to Kojo, Lucy started to stir.
“Tim”
“Hi baby. Are you and our boy having a little rest?”
“Tim. I’m so sorry”
“Baby. Stop. Don’t apologize. I know you just want our special day to be the best day of our lives. How about you sit up and let me explain some things”
Lucy sat up, moving down the couch giving Tim room to snuggle in next to her.
“Lucy. It took us so long to get here. I have never felt a love that I feel for you ever in my life. Including Isabel. You, my pretty girl, are literally my whole world. I just want for you to finally be my wife. Start this new journey together. I would marry you tomorrow if I could. I also want you to have your dream wedding because that is what you deserve. I just think we need to come up with a compromise. Together”
“Tim, you are the most wonderful man. I think you’re right. Let’s find a venue that is perfect for us and somewhere we can get married and soon. I too, just want to be your wife. My vision was clouded and I was forgetting about what this is all about. The only thing that matters is you and I getting married”
“I do have an idea about when to get married. I want it to be this year”
“I am all in, babe. When were you thinking?”
Lucy wrote down on a blank piece of paper a date.
‘12-09-2023’
Tim had a mix of shock and sadness cover over him.
“Lucy, baby. Come on. Let’s pick another date. Sweetheart, that day carries very heavy reminders”
“Tim, hear me out. It does carry a heavy weight. But as you told me. I survived. You found me. It’s a day that carries heavy emotions for both of us. That day can now be the best day of our lives and not the worst anymore”
“That is beautifully said. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure”
“Let’s do it then”
Lucy found a local company that makes invitations. Picking out colours and fonts. This was an area that Tim gave the reins to his soon to be wife. After a couple of weeks she received a package. As she opened the box. Becoming overjoyed as she held the mint green and white cards. As she saw the date. Tearing up. This day in 2023 was now going to be the best day of their lives.
Save The Date were ready
𝓢𝓐𝓥𝓔 𝓣𝓗𝓔 𝓓𝓐𝓣𝓔
𝓛𝓾𝓬𝔂
&
𝓣𝓲𝓶
12.09.2023
𝓛𝓸𝓼 𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓼, 𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓪
𝓘𝓷𝓿𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓣𝓸 𝓕𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀
6 notes · View notes
Text
Wedding Planning (Part I) | Misfits Timeline Anomaly’ verse
An oc x oc collaboration between @seanfalco​ & @super-unpredictable98
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: Strong language, mention of daddy kink and mild sexual content
(Masterlist)
“Whatcha doin’?” Win’s Nathan asked, finding Win at the table, a bunch of magazines spread out around her and her laptop in front of her, notepad in her lap. 
“Uhm... I figured I’d get started on a list of all the stuff we should probably start thinking about.” 
“Thinking about... what?” he asked, tilting his head to look at the magazines—bridal magazines. “Oh, right. That looks like a lot of work.” 
“Yeah, and it’ll be a lot easier if we all work together,” she said pointedly.
"Hey there," Lyddie's Nathan came out of the room and immediately ran to see what the fuss was about. "Nice! Our little bride doin' bridal things." 
"Guys, you're not gonna believe what happened," Lydia walked in jumping with excitement. 
"Look, our not so little bride!" he pulled her in for a kiss. 
"What's that supposed to mean?" 
"Look how tall y'are! You're like a cute, sexy giant. C'mere, Winnie is lookin' at wedding stuff."
“Yeah, and the brides are not gunna be th’only ones doing ‘bridal things’,” Win exclaimed, fixing him with a firm look. “This isn’t gunna be one of those weddings where the brides do everything and the grooms just get t’show up. Now what were you saying, Lyds?”
"Well, I was just gonna say they're shooting a movie with Orlando Bloom down the street, but this is much more interesting," Lydia took a seat next to her. "And you better bring your asses over here to help us!" 
"Okay, what can I do?" her Nathan grabbed an apple and leaned over the counter.
“Alright alright,” Win’s Nathan agreed, plopping down next to his twin. 
“Well, we’ll need to think about who to invite, what we wanna eat, songs for the reception, where we want th’ceremony and when, and a colour scheme or theme... and that’s just the beginnin’,” Winnie sighed.
"We also need to decide what drinks we're gonna have, the cake, first dance, bridesmaids and groomsmen, outfits, pictures, honeymoon..." Lydia continued. 
"Jesus Christ, Lollipop!" her Nathan widened his eyes. 
"But I suppose we could start with a guest list, a date, and a venue."
“I don’t care when we do it, but I’ve always kinda wanted an outdoor wedding,” Win murmured. “And my guest list is easy...” she said, huffing an empty laugh.
"We decided it'd be best t'leave dad out of it," Lyddie's Nathan announced. 
"That's probably a smart idea" Lyds frowned. She really wanted to invite her family, but she had given up on the idea of telling them. "I agree with the outdoor wedding thing, are we waiting until we can go back to England?"
“It might be easier for everyone t’make it unless we wanna pay for a bunch of plane tickets,” Win’s Nathan said.
"You're right," she nodded, grabbing a pen and a napkin. "So your mum and Jeremy, Simon and Alisha, Kelly, Curtis and Nikki. Did I forget anyone?"
Win glanced at the Nathans before looking to Lyddie. “I think you should invite your parents. I mean, obviously you’ll need to tell them about everything, but we can help and so can Simon... I just figured that you actually want your family there, so they should be there."
"My mum's gonna kill me!" Lydia cried, rubbing her eyes nervously. "It's not like she can kick Si out for having powers anymore, but what if she goes public and we all get fucked?"
"Why would she want t'go public when we tell her that if she does that, you'll die?" her Nathan asked. "She's not a bad person is she?" 
"No, she's just very strict. And what about young me? What if telling her prevents her from becoming who I am today?"
“I—I dunno...” Win replied, deflating. “I don’t have all the answers, but I just thought...”
“It’ll be okay, Lyds,” Win’s Nathan exclaimed. “I mean, there’s two of me in th’same timeline and if that didn’t stop the world from turnin’, then what could be th’harm?”
"That's true, and who wouldn't wanna become a beautiful broadway bound rock star, about t'marry three very hot people?" Lyddie's Nathan added. 
"I'm sorry, Winnie, I didn't mean to snap. It's actually a really nice idea," Lyds ran her fingers through the other woman's hair. "You are so sweet, and I love you so much. I'll call Simon to talk about it later."
“I know you’re scared, but we’re all here for you,” Win murmured, taking her fiancé's hand from her hair to hold, bringing it to her lips.
 After a moment she grinned, letting go of Lydia’s hand. “Okay, so that was surprisingly easy, though I’ve made a note that we’ll have to look into outdoor venue spaces. What’s next?”
"If we're having an outdoor wedding, it better be during spring or summer," Lyddie took notes. "Do you guys have any preference for a theme or-?" 
"Let's have a superhero wedding!" her Nathan clapped as if that was the most brilliant idea. "Y'know, we're all superheroes and all?" 
"Babe, this is a wedding, not a kid's birthday party," she laughed.
“Maybe something music-themed?” Win suggested. “I’m not super picky, but I think it would be fun t’perform together at the reception.”
"Definitely," Lydia smiled. "I'll take any chance to perform with you. It would be nice to have a music theme, like little notes and guitars for decoration."
“Great, that’s settled,” Winnie exclaimed happily, leaning across the counter to steal a kiss from the other woman before settling back in her chair. “Okay, next, reception food?”
"Since it's less than 20 people including us, it would be silly to get a caterer or whatever, I can cook." 
"No, you're the bride, you're s'posed t'be spoiled and all that shit," Lyddie's Nathan protested.
“Or we could get pizza,” Win’s Nathan suggested, half-joking.
"That's what I was gonna say!" his clone slammed the counter, he was taking the whole wedding planning a little too seriously. 
"Pizza? It's not classy at all, but maybe if we serve it with champagne..." Lyds chuckled.
“Hey, we can make the rules for our wedding,” Win laughed. “If we want pizza and champagne, then who’s to say we can’t?”
"That's why I'm marrying you guys," she sighed. "We need some soda and juice as well, for the designated drivers and for young me, she's not supposed to drink for the first time until you," she pointed at the boys. "Give her booze." 
"Okay, wedding party?" Win asked, tapping the back of her pen against her lips.
"Why don't we do it in the flat? Or the rooftop? It would be less glamorous, but it would be easy..." Lyds suggested. 
"Sounds perfect," Winnie grinned. "What sort of flowers would you like, Lyddie?" she asked next.
"Bird of paradise flowers are my favorite," she wrote it down. "We could wrap the bouquets in music sheets and guitar strings."
"Sounds lovely," Win murmured, discreetly searching on her laptop what a bird of paradise flower looked like.
"What are your favorite flowers, Winnie? I never got you flowers!" Lydia gasped. "I always get you chocolates."
"I like peonies, but I dunno how well they'd go with everything else..." she admitted.
"We can get it, pink goes with the orange from my flowers and anyone who has seen Wicked knows pink goes with green," Lyddie stoked her fiancé's hair. "I think it's gonna look gorgeous." 
"The real question is how are we doin' that thing with the garter?" her Nathan asked. "Am I goin' down on both of you or...?" 
"Nathan, come on! Really?" she rolled her eyes with a laugh.
"No, no, th'man's onto somethin' here, askin' the important questions!" Win's Nathan agreed.
"There's no way you two are getting under my dress in front of my mum, dad, brother, and younger self," Lydia mocked. 
"It's tradition, Lollipop! D'you really wanna break tradition?" her Nathan cocked an eyebrow. 
"We're a quad, we're already breaking tradition... how can you think of doing that in front of your mum? What is Louise gonna say?"
“Honestly, she wouldn’t be all that surprised,” Win’s Nathan exclaimed. “Y’know I think we should take th’garters off with our teeth.” 
“I’m down,” Win simply shrugged.
"Fine!" Lyds nodded defeated. She knew she would be embarrassed, but it could be fun. "At least your dad won't be there... we'll get them when we go lingerie shopping for the honeymoon."
“Lingerie shopping, huh?” Win’s Nathan exclaimed, leaning in closer.
“Will I be able to go with you for that?” Win asked, curious.
"Of course, we're going together for this one," Lyddie winked at her. "Just the two of us." 
"That's not fair!" her Nathan pouted. 
"It's more than fair, it's a surprise for you guys."
“Yeah, and maybe you can surprise us with something,” Win said, grinning impishly, already excited. “Speaking of the Honeymoon, where do we wanna go for that?” 
"We wanted t'go somewhere warm, with beaches and all that," Lyddie's Nathan shared a look with his twin. "Like the Caribbean or Greece."
“That sounds lovely. I’ve never been anywhere, so I’m excited just to go,” Win laughed. “But somewhere warm sounds nice. I wanna go sailing.”
"Let's check prices and hotels, and then we can decide," Lydia was happy to see Winnie so excited. "We should probably schedule a cake tasting once we get back."
 "Can I do that one?" her Nathan offered. 
"We're all going, don't worry," she leaned against his chest.
“This is gunna be the best wedding ever,” Win murmured, feeling her eyes moisten as she looked at her partners. She didn’t like to think of herself as a sentimental type, but who was she kidding?
"It is, babe, cause we're marrying each other," Lyddie kissed the top of her head on the way to the bathroom. "I'm gonna take a quick shower, then we can talk first dance, bachelor and bachelorette parties..."
“Sounds good!” Win called, slouching back in her chair. “This is going surprisingly a lot easier than I anticipated,” she laughed.
"Yeah, seems like it..." Lyddie's Nathan agreed. "Havin' four people helps." 
"It sure does," Lyds murmured, glancing at Win's Nathan with a grin before walking into the bathroom.
He grinned back, watching her as she disappeared around the door. 
“What was that all about?” Win asked, noticing.
Lyddie's Nathan felt a tiny bit jealous but pushed the thought away, it was silly to be jealous of a look, Lyds loves all of them equally, he knew that much... 
"Um, yeah, what's goin' on?"
Win’s Nathan glanced over at Winnie, eyeing the bruise around her neck from the other day, which only seemed darker today.
“Ohhh, nothin’, for once I know somethin’ about Lyddie that neither of you two do,” he gloated.
"Funny, but that's impossible," his clone scoffed dismissively. "I know every little bit of her, inside and out. There's no way, man."
“Oh really? I beg t’differ,” he mused, leaning forward, a mischievous grin playing at his lips. Oh, he was enjoying this. 
Win chewed her lip, glancing at the other man. She could see the way his mouth twitch downward and she frowned. 
“Well, spit it out already,” she said.
"I bet I already know. She might not even know that I know, but I know..." Lyddie's Nathan looked at his clone defiantly, despite the shadow of insecurity in his voice. "I can get her goin' in my sleep, I know it all."
“Oh? So you know about her daddy kink, then?” Win’s Nathan asked smugly.
Lyddie's Nathan choked on his orange juice, staring in disbelief at his twin. 
"What?" he managed to say. "Nah, you're shittin' me, she would've told me..."
“Oho! I knew it! I’m finally the one in th’know for once. She said it was the one kink she managed t’hide from everyone, until she called me daddy in bed yesterday,” Win’s Nathan exclaimed.
"That is- if this is a wind up, I swear t'God..." Lyddie's Nathan felt conflicted. That was insanely hot, but at the same time, why the fuck would she hide it from him? "Lollipop! Lyds!" he called. 
"I'll be right out, sweetie," she said, unsuspecting.
“It’s not! I swear!” Win’s Nathan held his hands up. 
Winnie groaned, getting up to smack the back of his head as she passed him, heading to the kitchen.
"What's up?" Lydia opened the door with a smile. 
"D'you have a daddy kink?" her Nathan asked. He thought going straight to the point would be better, but instead of answering, she widened her eyes and shut the door again. 
"Baby!" he knocked again. "C'mon, why didn't y'tell me?"
“This is going well,” Win muttered, pouring herself a drink. “Look what you started,” she hissed at her Nathan who opened his mouth in surprise. 
“Me? I just had t’make it even. Specially when you’re walkin' around lookin’ like that! You told me y’didn’t like it rough, but then you go and let him do that kinda shit with yeh,” he threw back at her. “What am I s’posed t’think?”
She turned around to look at him. “Is that what you’re upset about?” 
“Yeah... kinda...” he admitted, reaching out to tug at the hem of her shirt.
“Oh, Nathan,” Win huffed. “Come here,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “I don’t like it rough all th’time... but he’s a little more used t’that cuz that’s how Lyddie likes it. It doesn’t make what we have any less special because we shag differently than I do with him.”
“I guess,” he relented. “I do get t’be a little rough with Lyddie. And I like it when you take charge. I like it a lot.” 
“See?” she murmured.
“I just... got a little jealous is all.” 
“It happens to th’best of us,” Win laughed, tilting her head up to kiss him. “But you should probably apologize to Lyds for outing her secret.” 
“Yeah...” Nathan groaned, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
"Sweetheart, open the door," Lyddie's Nathan tried to turn the doorknob, but it was locked. "Lyds!" 
"There's no Lyds, she jumped out the window! Try again in... 15 years," she shouted. 
"That's sad, we're s'posed t'get married soon. And- and I love her." 
At these words, she decided to open the door, still burning with embarrassment. He pulled her into a hug, already feeling bad for his approach. "I forgot how shit you are at keeping secrets."
"I think it's hot! You could've told me, babe!" he squeezed her. "You're not upset, are ya?" 
"No," she sighed heading to the room to get dressed. "I guess it's on me for expecting Nathan to keep his mouth shut, I know that's physically impossible. That goes for both of you." 
"Just so we're clear, does that extend to Winnie? D'you wanna call her mummy or-?" 
"No further questions," she blushed even harder. 
"Okay, okay, can y'call me...?" 
"Yes, Nathan," Lydia came out wearing one of his shirts. "Awesome!" 
"I guess so," she sat next to Win and started looking through the magazines, maybe she would find a dress she liked.
“Lyddie...?” Win’s Nathan ventured hesitantly.
"Yes?" she looked up at him, knowing what he was gonna say. She really wasn't upset. After everything that happened the last time, things turned out okay, great even, but she also wasn't thrilled about it.
“Can we talk for a sec?” he asked nervously.
"I wonder what would you possibly wanna talk about..." she took his hand and followed him.
Win shared a look with Lyddie’s Nathan as the two walked out after quickly downing the drink she’d made. 
Once they were alone, Win’s Nathan cleared his throat awkwardly. “So... I uhm... look, I’m sorry. I didn’t really think that through...” he admitted, so caught up in the euphoria that he was the first to know something about Lyddie.
"I would hope so," she folded her arms. "It would be pretty shitty of you to think it through and still tell everyone my secret. I know you, I can't say I'm incredibly surprised."
He hung his head. “I just got excited. I should’ve let you tell th’others when you were ready to. I didn’t mean to betray your trust,” he sighed, chancing a glance at her to gauge her reaction. “Forgive me, Lyds?”
Lydia took a deep breath, staring at those sad emeralds of his. She knew he was being sincere, he was the last one to know about every other thing... 
"Yes, I forgive you, but," she couldn't resist winding him up just a little. "That'll be a month without shagging me, or seeing me naked, or kissing."
“WHAT?” he exclaimed. “I— You—! Noooooo! Lollipop, c’mon! I’ll get on my knees if y’want me to! You didn’t threaten that to the others me when he told Win your other secret!” 
"Aw, you're so cute! I'm just kidding, I love you too much," Lydia giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, idly playing with his hair. "Besides we both know how easy it is to break me."
At her words, Nathan heaved a giant sigh of relief. “That’s true, you’d be horny 24/7 with how hard I’d be tryin’ to tease you.” He sobered. “I love you, sweetheart.”
"Cocky bastard... I hate it when you're right," she shook her head before gently kissing his neck. "You guys can come back! It's all sorted!"
“All good?” Win asked, lifting her head from Lyddie’s Nathan’s shoulder where they’d gone to sit on the couch while they waited.
"All perfect," Lyds sat back down, pulling Win's Nathan with her so she could rest her legs on his thighs and her head on his shoulder
“Good, I’m glad,” Winnie quipped, pressing a kiss to her Nathan’s jaw and then doing the same to the other one. “We were getting worried.”
"Are there any other kinks y'wanna disclose before somethin' like this happens again?" Lyddie's Nathan asked. 
She thought about it for a few moments, silently counting them on her fingers. "No, I think that's everything that I know of."
“Maybe I have some undisclosed kinks, you never know,” Win teased. “Now do we wanna plan some more or take a break for the day?”
"Wait! Can't just throw this at us like that, Winnie!" Lyddie's Nathan freaked out. "What is it?" 
"Yeah, no kidding! I didn't think you had a lot of kinks," her Nathan exclaimed, sitting up straighter.
"Whatever is good for you, babe," Lydia ignored his desperate attempts.
"Hmm... I think I'd like to plan a little more," she answered, doing the same. She didn't really have any other major kinks, at least she didn't think so. The choking thing was new. But she liked teasing them.
"Yeah, sounds good. I know it might be a little out there, but how about we do a four-way first dance? We could think of a song that is special for all of us" Lydia was really enjoying this, the boys did deserve it.
"Wait, you're really gunna just leave us hangin' like that?" Win's Nathan exclaimed with an incredulous frown. 
"Oh, I like that idea," Winnie exclaimed over him. "What's a song we all relate to though," she mused, wracking her brain.
"Boys, you're supposed to help us!" Lyds tilted her head. "Come on, what song do you guys think would be nice? There's a song from the future called Crazy Lucky by Better Than Ezra, I think would be nice..." 
"Winnie! Tell us, please?" Lyddie's Nathan pouted. "We really wanna know, right Lollipop? Aren't you curious too?" 
"Not really, I already know," she winked at her and went back to writing down songs.
"Oh, I like that song, that's a good one," Win murmured. 
"Wait, Lyddie knows but not us?" Win's Nathan exclaimed. 
Finally, she rolled her eyes and looked up. "Boys, can we focus here? If you wanna figure out my kinks, you can do it in the bedroom, but we're kinda busy right now."
"Fine, that song is a little cheesy. Get the one from your first album about the night changin', I like that one," Lyddie's Nathan huffed. 
"Nathan Young wants to dance to a One Direction song at our wedding? Didn't have that one in my new timeline bingo card," Lydia joked.
"That one went over my head," Win laughed.
"Those kids from X Factor, in the next few years they become the new Backstreet Boys, maybe even bigger. My song, Night Changes, it's theirs," Lyddie whispered. 
"It's a cool song..." her Nathan mumbled.
"Ahhh, okay," Winnie mused. "Well, I'm sure you sing it better than they would anyway," she said with a grin.
"You're too sweet," Lydia chuckled. "We're gonna find the perfect song, that's what we're good at."
“Yeah! You two know more about music than anyone,” Win’s Nathan exclaimed.
"Thanks, babe, we'll put a pin on that. Now, you two are probably gonna make your own tuxes, Winnie can make her own dress too, I'll find somewhere to buy mine," Lydia looked over at the boys. "Did you guys plan anything for the bachelor party?"
“We wanna smoke cigars and play some poker. Y’know, classy," he replied.
"Well I sure hope there are no strippers involved..." she gave them a pointed look. "And definitely no using your powers to cheat! We won't be there to help you do basic math like I did in Vegas."
“Vegas?” Win exclaimed, worried, remembering the last time they went. Til she remembered Nathan’s lifetime ban was in their universe, not this one. “Yeah, please don’t get arrested... again. And seconded on the strippers.” 
“What? Course not, love. Wouldn’t dream of it,” her Nathan gasped.
"I'm impressed with how little faith y'have in us... we're angels!" Lyddie's Nathan frowned dramatically. "What are the ladies plannin', huh?" 
"I actually didn't think of it yet, what do you wanna do, Winnie?" Lydia asked.
“I haven’t really either,” she answered. “Maybe go out clubbing? Or a big sleepover with the girls?”
"We could do both," Lyddie grinned. "First we hit the club, then we get some food, watch some chick-flicks, I'll finger you under the blankets... you know, wholesome fun night."
“Mmm sounds perfect,” Winnie murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 
“Whoa whoa whoa, we’re not allowed to have strippers, but you get t’finger each other at your party? How is that fair?” Win’s Nathan gasped.
"We're engaged! It's not even remotely the same thing," Lydia laughed. "I was gonna suggest we leave you guys a little video as a pre-wedding gift, but if you'd rather watch strippers..." 
"No! I'll take the video!" her Nathan interrupted.
“I changed my mind! I want a video too please!” Win’s Nathan was quick to assure them. “All I meant was, it doesn’t seem fair that you two get some when we won’t be,” he grumbled, sullenly. 
“Oh my God, Nathan,” Win laughed. “As if you two don’t get some basically every day,” she pointed out.
"So do you! Sometimes without us!" Lyddie's Nathan furrowed his brows. 
"Poor babies," Lydia hugged Win's Nathan tightly. "Don't worry, we'll make something very special for you, I'm sure you're gonna love it."
“I mean, if you two wanna shag each other be our guest,” Winnie teased, poking Lyddie’s Nathan in the side. “I think it’s all pretty even. You’re definitely not sex starved by any means.”
"Jesus no!" he jumped, remembering the unfortunate accident from the other day. "I know I'm handsome, but I'll pass!" 
"You got a little jittery, babes, is there something you wanna tell us?" Lydia taunted. 
"NO! I'm fine!"
“Wait, did something happen?” Win asked, looking between the two men suspiciously. “I mean, you’re all for talking about other people’s secrets...”
"Of course not! That'd be so weird, how can you even think that? Right?" Lyddie's Nathan looked at his twin, terrified. 
"Sounds sketchy to me," Lyds muttered.
“It’s not sketchy. Nothin’ happened! We’re like brothers, how could yeh even imply that?” Win’s Nathan exclaimed, scandalized.
"Okay..." Lydia tried not to laugh at how bothered they got. "If you say so... I believe you." 
"Great! Can we talk about somethin' else then?" her Nathan groaned.
11 notes · View notes