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sopejinsunflower · 2 years

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2022.001.009: The Cat and The Car

a/n: this is the longest chapter so far (9k) but I feel like the majority of it is just about a cat lol pls bear with me. I promise you this cat is significant.

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Monday blues are the worst, made even worse at the fact that the knowledge that there are seven men in the house with me no longer excites me like it did before. Should not excite me like before after what I learnt yesterday.

I heave a sigh and drag myself out of bed to get washed and dressed. I don’t even put much effort; putting on the first thing my hand could reach (the green tie-dye hoodie perched on my desk chair) and a pair of jeans, light makeup to cover the dark circles around my eyes and my pale cheeks. I go down to breakfast without even bothering to invite them down with me, walking past their doors without another look. I felt just slightly ashamed and only hoped they hadn’t noticed the way I had looked at them these past couple of days.

I sit down at the dining table, not even noticing that no placemats have been prepared for the other seven, or three since the oldest four should be at work, keeping my head down and munching on the piece of toast that tastes like cardboard. Mrs Oliviera comes in to pour me my cup of tea and she does a small double take when she sees me. I pay her no mind, not even looking up at her, pretending to be busy scrolling through Twitter to check on the news in case the world had imploded along with my self-esteem last night.

It hadn’t, unfortunately. I put down my phone and that’s when I finally notice the housekeeper waffling by the doorway that leads to the kitchen, twisting and untwisting her apron in her hands. I blink up at her. “What’s the matter?”

She seems to be looking down at my hoodie and I follow her gaze, checking to see if I got jam on it. Nothing. It looks clean. “Something wrong?” I ask, puzzled.

“Whose hoodie is that?” she asks through a tight voice.

I raise an eyebrow, not comprehending. “What do you mean?”

“It’s too big for you,” she mutters, eyebrows furrowing.

I shrug at her. “It’s just oversized. I told you, it’s just fashion.” I wash down the toast with my tea, avoiding her eyes to hide the fact that it’s a complete lie. It makes me wonder if she knows that it came from the attic, from one of the closets upstairs. Does she memorise the clothes stored there?

Mrs Oliviera looks like she still has more to say but just then Mr Chang appears behind her, looking excited, gesturing for me to come with him. “Good, you’re awake. Hurry, come.”

Curious, I get up to follow him through the kitchen but Mrs Oliviera stands in my way. She looked a little appalled that I was about to enter the kitchen. “The landlady shouldn’t be in the back parts of the house,” she says in a sort of high-pitched, panicked tone. “It’s inappropriate and messy and you should go around-”

“Seriously,” I say, impatient because Mr Chang didn’t wait for me. “I really don’t care what the kitchen looks like and if it’s messy then shouldn’t you guys be maintaining it? Health hazard and all.”

I push past her and go straight to the kitchen trying to find the back door that leads to the back of the house. The cook looks alarmed at my presence, rushing forward and speaking in a heavy French accent. “Mademoiselle, what are you doing here? The lady shouldn’t be back here.” For a man with his look, a constant frown on his forehead, he had a sort of pitched voice that tickled my funny bone. I try hard not to smirk, pursing my lips together.

I look around the kitchen then, taking in the place. It’s my first time and honestly, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting but surely not this. The place looks like one of those huge kitchens in a high-end restaurant; the floors wiped clean, the pots and pans that hang over the multiple stoves gleaming, the variety of silver Japanese knives sticking to the wall look like they could cut with just a touch, the stainless steel island in the middle of the room looks like it’s never been used, spotless and shiny.

There are two industrial refrigerators and two huge freezers next to them, humming quietly in one corner. Cabinets line the walls, both the top and bottom halves, and an array of kitchen appliances are arranged neatly on one side of the wall - a microwave oven, a fancy coffee maker, two air fryers, blenders of different sizes and kinds, a huge rice cooker. There was even a deep fryer in another corner. The kitchen is bright and there’s a pot of something on the stove that smells heavenly.

“I’m just passing through,” I explain as I look around in awe. The place looks like it could cater to a meal for twenty. Had there been more employees back in the old days, back when my grandaunt had been alive? “I really don’t know what the fuss is about but the kitchen is amazing! Why can’t I come in? What if I want to cook things for myself?”

There’s a look of horror on Jean’s face and he squeaks out, “Nononono, that is my job, mademoiselle. My job. Is my cooking not to your liking? Is there something I should change? Just let me know and I can do it ten times better!”

I laugh, unable to take him seriously when it looks like his moustache is talking instead of his mouth. “No, that’s not what I mean. Not at all. Sometimes I just want a cup noodle or instant ramen-”

“I can make them! I can make anything you want!”

~~~

With each raised note of the cook’s voice, Jin and Jungkook are both doubled over each other, laughing so hard that snot is coming out of Jungkook’s nose and Jin has tears down his reddening cheeks.

But Taehyung and Hoseok have it worse, holding their stomachs as they roll around the floor, laughing so hard no sound is coming out of their opened mouths. Jimin is holding on to Namjoon’s arm, the bigger man had caught him before he toppled over to the side, holding him steady by the waist. Laughter among the seven of them has the same effect as a domino set; when it hits one, it hits all of them in one fell swoop. Literally.

They can’t help but focus on Jean’s thick, handlebar moustache that covers his mouth, wriggling with every word the cook speaks. Combined with his unsuitable high-pitched voice, Jimin could barely stand anymore, laughing so hard his stomach hurts. They had almost forgotten about Jean, about why exactly they avoided the kitchen back then, mostly to not offend him. Jean is an excellent cook, would’ve been a Michelin star chef if he had had worked in a restaurant, but Namjoon can just imagine the chaos his kitchen would be in if he had been in charge of one.

Like Ollie, Jean’s family had also served the manor. Most of his skills came from his father and grandfather and the ones before that, secret recipes or personal creations passed down from one generation to the next, perfected each time a new cook steps up. And like Ollie, Jean is also very much privy to the reality of the seven men in the attic. But unlike Ollie, he had been thrilled to learn about the men coming back downstairs. He doesn’t know you that well yet but what he sees, he likes and he has high hopes. For what, he’s not quite sure yet but something tells him there’s a shift in the air the day you arrived.

Yoongi is the only one still upright, crossing his arms over his chest with a gummy smile on his face, trying his best to not get carried away. He’s more entertained with you struggling not to laugh too much, your face and ears growing red, the smile on your face only growing wider and wider while the cook’s frown only deepens, his moustache growing more animated as he chastised you, the lady of the house, for even thinking of lifting a hand in his domain.

Yoongi casually walks over to you, standing behind you, attracted by your lighter mood, watching your shoulders shake quietly. You’re wearing Hoseok’s old hoodie, something that didn’t escape them, the sheer size of the garment making you a lot smaller than usual. Yoongi isn’t one to show much emotion, he’s very shy about it, very private. But he can’t help the desire to swaddle you in his arms.

But instead, he settles on just touching your face, grazing the back of his fingers against your rounded cheek. The coldness that zings through you at his touch is enough to sober you up a little.

~~~

“Okay, okay,” I say, raising my hand in a give up gesture, rubbing the cold spot on my cheek. It must be from a gust of wind blowing in from the opened back door. “I won’t come in here again.”

Jean, the cook, points to me with the wooden spoon he had been holding in his hand. “Tell me what you want and I’ll make it, okay? Anything, anytime!”

I nod furiously, wrestling to get the smile off my face. “Got it. I’m just going to…” I trail off, pointing to the opened back door with my thumb. He waves me away, returning to the bubbling pot on the stove. Mrs Oliviera is nowhere to be seen. As I’m heading towards the door, something in the wall catches my eye. I pause, staring at what looks like a mini elevator but with doors that open horizontally.

The cook is busy tending to his soup. I walk closer to the wall, noticing the two buttons next to it with arrows pointing up and down. I’ve seen the dumb waiter upstairs but for some reason the one upstairs only had the down button and pressing it doesn’t really call it up for me to inspect. The doors open quite easily, revealing a tiny elevator box, but the door handle bangs against the top wall if not caught in time. The cook throws me a confused angry look, raising the wooden spoon above his head in a what-are-you-doing gesture.

“Sorry,” I mouth, shutting it closed once more and hurrying out the back door where Mr Chang had reappeared, curious to know what is keeping me. I join him outside the house and he immediately leads me towards the greenhouse. Just as I thought that he had wanted to show me a new flower or a new plant, we passed right by the greenhouse, heading straight towards the employee’s quarter.

“Where are we going?” I ask, a little breathless from keeping up with his big, excited strides. “Not the greenhouse?”

Mr Chang shakes his head. “No. We’re going to the vegetable patch.”

I’ve never been to the employees’ quarter before but I’ve seen it through the trees from my window. From the look of the chimney, I had guessed it was a cottage of sorts but as we neared the building, I realised it’s actually a lot bigger than that. It’s gated in by small white picket fences and the vegetable patch Mr Chang referred to isn’t exactly a patch. It’s a whole garden that spans the front yard of the employees’ quarter from end to end, minus the small footpath that leads up to the front door.

The whole look about the place is very warm; the door is painted red with white-panelled windows sandwiching it. Ivy creeps up the orange brick walls, creating a sort of drape over the top of the door. From the front, it doesn’t look too big, but from the sides, the house extends quite far back, more than enough for a shared house for three people. There’s also a small shed to the side, in the corner of the yard, and Mr Chang leads me there.

He pauses at the shed door, looking back at me with concern in his eyes. I raise my eyebrows at him. “What is it?”

He shifts his gaze upwards, almost as if he’s searching through his brains on what to say. Then he looks back at me, forehead creasing. “Do you remember that cat you saw?”

“The white one by the tree line?”

He cocks his head to the side but then nods. “Remember I told you that I was going to catch it because it keeps using the vegetable patch,” he gestures to the garden behind us, “as its personal toilet?”

“Yes?” I’m growing more and more curious, the suspense building. I wish he would just cough it up.

“Well,” he says, trailing off and scratching the back of his head. “Remember I said it would be better if it was indoors?”

I nod again, feeling my own eyebrows furrowing to match his deeply hooded ones. “Okay, and?”

Mr Chang sighs. “Well, I don’t think you would want to keep it. I mean, I just thought I’d still show it to you before I get rid of it.”

“What do you mean get rid of it?” I ask in alarm. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I…don’t really know,” he replies hesitantly. “But something is wrong. But I think it’s better to get rid of it.”

“That’s nonsense,” I quip, determined now to prove him wrong. “Unless it’s badly injured or something. Come on, just show it to me.”

The gardener groundskeeper sighs again, relenting this time. “Fine.” He twists the doorknob and pushes the door open with a loud creak. The inside is dark but I can see a variety of garden tools kept haphazardly inside. Broken or old pots are strewn across the floor of the shed, some on their sides. Fertiliser bags are stacked on one side of the wall, so many of them that they come up to your waist in three columns. There is only a single bare bulb in the ceiling and Mr Chang is holding on to the switch looking like he’s ready for a big reveal.

In the middle of the room, I can see a metal cage, the kind commonly used when trapping bigger animals. The cat stands in the centre of it, low on its front legs, a ready-to-pounce stance that I know well enough. Its tail swishes behind it in quick movements, looking a lot bigger than the last time I saw it, though it’s probably of the distance as well as it being puffed up.

I look at Mr Chang to signal him to turn on the light and he has this look of apprehension that I can’t quite understand. He clicks on the light and I turn back to the cat to have a proper look. Finally, I understood what he meant.

The cat, once the light blinks on, suddenly relaxes, standing up and tilting its head up to look at me curiously. The eyes are what strikes me the most, having only seen it once on a cat on social media. They are dual-toned, each eye a prominent half-blue, half-yellow that seems to glow the longer I stare at them. The cat seems to be at ease, suddenly its purring filling up the room, loud and clear like motorwork. It has the most luxurious black coat I have ever seen, fluffy and clean, no signs of being a feral cat that’s been living in the wilderness behind the manor.

I’m about to argue with Mr Chang, telling him that there’s nothing wrong with the cat when it swishes its tail again and my mouth falls open. Tails. With an s. Plural. More than one. Two, to be specific, one of them white, a striking contrast to its full coat. Have you seen Midas the cat on Instagram? It has four ears. But two-tailed, one black and one white, is completely new. Definitely not normal. The cat chirps happily, swishing its tails more languidly. It rubs against the metal cage, mesmerising eyes never leaving mine.

~~~

At the sight of the cat, Jin immediately pulls back, stepping away to exchange looks with the others.

It’s him. He’s back.

~~~

“It’s got two tails,” I note the obvious, not really knowing what to say. “Genetic mutation?”

Mr Chang shakes his head but he regards the cat as if it might break out of the cage and attack him. “I don’t know but it’s not good.”

“Why is that? If four-eared cats are common enough, then two-tailed ones should probably be the same.” I squat down on the ground near the trap and the cat suddenly flops over, nuzzling the cage with its little pink nose. I reach out to touch it but Mr Chang steps forward so suddenly I pause.

“I wouldn’t touch it if I were you,” he says darkly. “It’s…bad.”

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you heard of the nekomata?”

I shake my head. “Sounds japanese.”

He nods. “Yes. It’s an evil spirit, one of the worst ones.”

I stare at him as he’s grown two heads. I know my grandaunt was a cultist but I didn’t take Mr Chang to be superstitious. The fear in his eyes is real and he wouldn’t come any closer, staring at the cat in distaste. It was clear what he had meant when he said to get rid of it. I’m not about to let him kill an innocent animal for some mythical folklore just because it looks different.

“You don’t seriously believe that, right?” I ask, incredulous. “Because I don’t.” I try to find the latch to open the trap but Mr Chang grabs my shoulder hard enough for me to turn around in surprise.

“Are you sure about this?” His eyes are wide but he loosens his grip. “I mean, it’s wild and it might not like being inside.”

I chuckle softly. “So not because it’s a yokai?”

Mr Chang looks at me sheepishly, retreating back towards the doorway. He flicks his gaze back to the cat and his face changes, not really softening but at least it doesn’t look so concerned. “I don’t know, miss. I can’t help the superstitious side of me, I was raised that way. It’s in my culture. But,” he pauses, looking at the cat again who is rubbing against the metal trap. He sighs. “Well, your choice, I guess.”

I smile up at him, feeling more at ease. I find the latch and right before I release it, he speaks, the grimness back in his voice. “But I’m warning you.”

I open the trap, half expecting for the cat to bolt. But it just slinks out, coming to rub against my leg, its double tails swishing happily. I pet it, running my hand from its head, down its back and through its lush coat. I touch its tails and it feels normal enough, the fur fluffing up at the ends. I pick it up into my arms and stand up, cradling it. “Well,” I say, looking up at Mr Chang. “What’s one more spirit in the house, right? At least this one’s cute.”

The gardener looks a little confused but he leaves the shed and waits for me to come out.

~~~

Jimin looks at the cat in your arms, his lips pouting.

“I’m cuter,” he mutters sourly. The cat turns and makes direct eye contact with him. Jimin just pulls a face at it. He jabs a finger at the cat, barely missing its nose. “Don’t think for a second that you’re taking my place.”

The cat makes a swipe at Jimin’s finger with its paws, squirming in your arms. You look down at the cat and laugh, catching one of its paws. “What are you doing, little one? Is there a bug?”

The cat seems to be looking at Jimin in a way that says yes, you’re the bug and Jimin sticks out his tongue at it before falling back. While you wait for Mr Chang to close the shed door, the seven men crowd around you. The cat looks at each of them in turn and Yoongi shares Jimin’s sentiment. He’s not about to let a cat challenge his spot in your heart, no way.

Hoseok stands a little further back, arms crossed over his chest. He’s more of a dog person but this cat he tolerates. The cat’s rare-looking eyes stare deep into his own, a knowing look shared between animal and man. Mr Chang isn’t far off about it; it’s a kindred spirit, much alike to them, neither good nor bad. But in all the cycles they have lived through, not once have the cat ever been this close, never mind directly involved.

He’s not sure if this means anything but the fact that the cat can see them in their invisible forms is a little disturbing. Ironic because there’s nothing more than they would love than to be seen, just more by you and less by a feline. Namjoon runs a finger over the cat’s head, just above it, not quite touching, and again, the cat tries to grab at him.

~~~

“What are you doing?” I laugh, readjusting my hold against the squirming cat. It’s like it’s trying to catch something, maybe an invisible insect that I can’t see with my human eyes.

I snuggle it close. “You’re very cute, you know that?”

The cat meows, nuzzling my jaw. I find it a little strange that a wild animal is very familiar with human touch, with the only explanation being that it used to be a pet, probably a lost one or one that was thrown away. Well, it’s mine now, I think as I carry it back to the main house. And I promise to give it the home it deserves. But first, what do I even name this strange fella?

***

My Monday classes feel a little better as I plop my Macbook in front of me on the bed, the mic muted and my new pet sniffing around the room.

On the laptop, I have another window tab opened on name ideas for black cats with dual-coloured tails but everything sounds so generic (not to mention there’s no other cases of a cat with double tails, much less one with two tails, both of different colours), nothing that gives it the right name it deserves, something that suits its peculiar look. He. It’s a he, I’ve checked. He needs a name. And, I think as I pull up Etsy on my phone, a new collar.

I had knocked on Jimin’s, Jungkook’s and Taehyung’s doors but none of them had answered. I had been excited to introduce to them our new housemate but I guess it will have to wait until later. I wonder what kind of programs they’re in because, wow, they can’t even break away for five minutes from their online classes. My bedroom stands open and I can see straight out across to Jin’s closed door. If I lean the right way over my bed, I can see down the hall to the others’ rooms, too.

“We have seven other people in this house,” I say to the cat who has disappeared under my desk, sniffing around behind it. “I can’t wait for you to meet them.”

He meows from somewhere behind the desk in response. “But we still need a name for you. What would you like? Ajax? Poseidon? How about Phoenix?”

The cat remains quiet but I can hear the shuffling sounds of it from somewhere in the room, exploring. “Celeste? Too feminine? Alpha? Dominic? Domino? Anything? No?”

The cat reappears from behind the desk and continues towards the closet, sniffing around and leaning up against the drawers with two paws, the tails swishing. Not finding anything, he moves over towards the bathroom door, sniffing between the gap of the door and the floor. Everytime he moves from one place to another, he pauses somewhere in between, sniffs the air, purrs and then moves along. Sometimes he stops to look up at something, nose wrinkling and flaring as it smells something that I can’t before moving along. It’s an odd behaviour but I chalk it up to him being nervous in a new environment.

~~~

The cat is one curious, strange kitty, Jungkook thinks as, once again, the cat comes up to him to sniff his fingers as it passes by towards the closet. He thinks he can even feel the wetness of its nose.

“You sure it’s the same one, hyung?” Jungkook asks Jin, eyes still following the cat moving around your room. “It’s impossible, right?”

Jin, sitting on the edge of your bed, shrugs. “I don’t know. It looks similar. The same weird eyes.”

“And same tails?” Taehyung puts his hand just above the cat’s twin-tails as it passes by, the fur barely touching him.

“That, I’ve never seen before,” Jin says, frowning. “Or not that I’ve noticed.”

“I guess you would notice if a cat has two tails,” Namjoon chuckles as it stops in front of him, staring up at Namjoon as if it understood what he said. Namjoon nods at it, adding, “Right?”

The cat moves on towards the bathroom door. Hoseok watches it for a while before turning back to Jin. “It’s not real, right? What Chang said? The nekomata thing.”

Jin laughs. “I don’t know. Some people don’t believe in ghosts either.” He raises his arms up in a here-we-are gesture before dropping them again. “But this cat has always been outside, in the forest.”

“Like a forest spirit?” Taehyung adds.

Jin frowns at him but chuckles. “I don’t know, spirit or not. But it, or its ancestors, because I’ve seen this cat before, a long time ago, before…” He doesn’t finish his sentence but jumps back to the initial one. “Well, it’s never been indoor. I mean never actually been on the property but I’ve seen it around, mostly on the edges of the forest.”

Yoongi nods along to Jin’s words. “Me, too. It feels like the same cat but…if I say it’s impossible then what are we?”

“Is this going to change anything?” Jimin holds out his hand as the cat passes by him to jump up onto your bed, avoiding his touch. You’re still spewing name suggestions, talking to the cat, trying to see if it resonates with any one of those spectacular ideas. Personally, he had liked Poseidon and Nova and Phantom and Prism and Opal- scratch that, he had liked almost all of the ones you suggested. Except for Birdie. It’s just going to give the cat an existential crisis, Jimin thinks.

Again, Jin shakes his head. He doesn’t bother to answer it in words, watching you play with the cat by moving your hand from underneath your bed cover and watching the cat pounce on it. It looks young but Jin can’t shake the feeling that something is off about it, neither in a good nor bad way, just off. It’s an unsettling feeling, creeping slowly in the back of his mind, something he can’t put his finger on just yet.

“I’d name you Genie if we don’t already have one Jin in the house,” you say fondly, tickling the cat’s fluffy tummy as it stretches out in the middle of the bed, completely at ease. “Very handsome,” you add, which makes Jin’s ears turn red, “just like you.”

Jin’s face falls into an unimpressed look and the others laugh. The cat perks up at the sound of their laughter, looking around the room at them.

~~~

“What is it, boy?”

I look up in the general direction of where he’s looking but I can’t pinpoint anything that could have caught his attention. The abrupt way he sits up is like there was a loud noise and it surprised him but not scared him. After a few seconds of looking around my room, he goes to grooming himself. I shrug it off, going back to focus on my Zoom class, completely losing the plot already.

During lunch, I search through my phone for the nearest vet and a pet store where I can get pet supplies. I found the nearest vet about thirty minutes away. Mind you, I don’t mention anything about the cat to Mrs Oliviera, a little too scared to, actually. If Mr Chang came with me about it being some mythical creature, then I’m not sure what can of worms I might open with the housekeeper once she sees the twin-tailed cat that is yet to be named. I figured maybe I should check him for a microchip first before I can officially adopt him and name him.

As Mrs Oliveira comes around to refill my glass of water, she pauses to turn away and sneezes. She tries to fill my glass again, only to turn around and lets out another sneeze followed by another one. I look up at her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she says dismissively. “Just an itchy nose.”

“If it’s a cold then you should just take the rest of the day off,” I suggest, watching her walk away with another bout of sneezing.

She shakes her head but her eyes are watery. “No, no. I’m fine. It’s not a cold. Probably just hay fever. I’ll take my medication and I’ll be right as rain. Finish your lunch. Your class will start soon.”

I’m a little amazed that she remembers my schedule, honestly, but didn’t have the chance to say anything more as she quickly makes her way back into the kitchen. I scarf down my food and rush back upstairs to check on the cat. He probably needs to go to the bathroom soon and the longer I wait around, the more prone for accidents to happen. But I still have two more classes to get through.

I scoop the cat up and open the bathroom door. “I know you probably won’t get it but if you need to go, at least do it in here, okay, buddy?”

The cat stares at me, his dual-toned eyes almost hypnotising. Somehow he looks like he understands. I put him down and he goes to check out the bathroom. I go back to the laptop on the bed and the cat comes back out five minutes later. He stretches out next to me and takes a nap, resting his little head on his front paws.

I run my fingers through his soft fur once. “You’re a chill little dude, aren’t ya?”

~~~

Yoongi turns to Hoseok, ripping his eyes away from the cat laying down next to you. “I think you’re going to have a tough competition.”

Hoseok gives him a wry smile but regards the cat in a way that can only be interpreted as distaste, his mouth turning down in the corners. The cat’s strange eyes open up in two slits, locking gaze with him practically challenging before it closes them again, stretching slightly and turning its head towards you.

“I can’t tell if it likes us or not,” Jungkook comments mildly, sitting down on the floor on the side of the bed so he’s eye-level with the cat. He reaches out to touch the twin tails but the cat curls itself up, tucking its tails close to its body.

Taehyung chuckles. “I think it doesn’t.” He’s stretched out next to you on the other side of the bed, leaning against the pillows with his hands locked behind his head. Occasionally, he listens in to the lecture, nodding along with you and peering into your notebook as you write. You keep pushing the long arms of the hoodie up to your elbows and then pulling it back down again everytime Taehyung brushes against you, the goosebumps raising your little hairs.

Then the cat sits up, stretches and jumps down from the bed. It prowls around the room, sniffing. It goes into a corner of the carpet and paws at it suspiciously. Jin stares in alarm, ready to spring to his feet if the cat does what he thinks it’s about to do. Taehyung taps on your shoulders, or tries to. “Hey, I think the cat needs to go to the bathroom,” he says but you don’t even budge, eyes focused on the lecture slide on the laptop.

The cat continues to paw at a spot on the carpet and all seven of them jump to attention. Hoseok lets out a silent curse and Taehyung tries to grab at your arm. All you did was rub at the spot, looking up only briefly towards the opened window. Jimin and Jungkook run forward towards the cat, attempting to make it move.

“Shoo, shoo,” Jimin says, waving his hands frantically. “Not here!”

“The bathroom, the bathroom,” repeats Jungkook in a panic. The cat looks up at them, hesitates for a bit and then moves along in the direction Jimin is directing him.

~~~

I look up to see the cat circling around on the carpet, looking around the room every now and again as he moves towards the bathroom. He pauses and moves, pauses and moves.

Does it need to go?

~~~

“Come on,” Jimin urges, corralling the cat with his arms, squatting down a little so he’s walking with his knees bent. “Come on, this way.”

Jungkook scoots down in front of the bathroom door, beckoning the cat with his hands. “This way, kitty. Good kitty. That’s it.”

The others watch in awe and amusement as the two guide the cat towards the bathroom. Jin is beaming wide. “Oh, good job, guys. Keep going.”

“Almost there,” Namjoon adds, a huge smile on his lips, teeth showing.

~~~

“Do you need to go?” I ask, watching the cat expectantly as it walks over to the bathroom. “Yeah, you can use the bathroom for now.”

I giggle to myself, excited at the fact that the cat is a very smart one. “You understood me, didn’t you? Go on, in the bathtub preferably so it’ll be easier to clean up.”

I lean on the edge of my bed, watching just in case.

~~~

“Well, you heard her,” Jimin says, working hard to chase the cat towards the bathroom. “In the bathroom. Let’s go, let’s go.”

Jungkook steps inside, still trying to make the cat follow him towards the bathtub. “Come here, kitty kitty. Follow me. Over here.”

Taehyung joins you as you step off the bed and quietly follows it towards the bathroom. He can sense your excitement, your face radiant, expecting the cat to go where you just told it to, completely unaware of the hard work Jimin and Jungkook are putting in.

~~~

I step over the carpet lightly so as to not scare the cat, hoping and hoping that he knows where to go to do his business.

Just a little more, I think.

~~~

Jungkook steps into the bathtub, calling out to the cat. “Come. Here, kitty. Inside.”

The cat pauses just outside of the tub, tilting its head up at Jungkook questioningly. Jimin is right behind it, waving his hands in small gestures. “Go on. Into the tub. Follow Jungkookie.”

~~~

The cat pauses just outside the tub and I stop to watch from the doorway.

I send up a small prayer, hoping that he will go in and feel comfortable enough to go. “Go on,” I whisper to myself, also hoping that it was more of a number one than a number two. The cat, though, keeps looking from the tub to me then back again.

~~~

The cat stops right in front of the tub, unmoving, staring from Jungkook to Jimin then back again.

Jungkook taps the lip of the tub, trying to coax the cat to come but it wouldn’t budge. “Come on, kitty. Come here. Over here, kitty.”

Jimin scratches his head. “Maybe it won’t go in because you’re there, Jungkookie. Maybe you should come out first?”

Jungkook obeys, climbing out of the tub and trying to make himself as small as possible in between the tub and the wall. He pats the tub again. “Come, kitty.”

The cat, surprisingly, jumps onto the edge of the tub, tails swishing in the air. It looks at Jungkook, sniffing at his hand. Gently, Jungkook makes a shooing motion with his hands, trying to chase it into the tub. “Inside, kitty. You can go inside the tub for your toilet. Go on.”

As Jungkook shoos, he tries to move out of the corner he’s in, slowly inching out as to not scare the cat. He manages to pull himself out of the nook but his hands accidentally bump into the kitty, pushing it inside the tub. Jungkook gasps at the contact, surprised that he had felt the cat’s fur on his skin. He turns to Jimin, eyes wide but the latter hadn’t seen what happened.

~~~

“Yay, good boy!”

I punch the air and step inside to see if the cat is doing what he needs to do and immediately shiver. There’s a cold spot in where I’m standing but I just easily move forward, closer to the tub when another cold pocket hits me, sending shivers down my spine.

~~~

Jimin does a little full-body flutter as you step through him to look at the cat, only for you to walk through Jungkook next who lets out a tiny tremble before joining Jimin by the door.

They watch you coo and croon at the cat. “You’re such a smart boy. You knew where I told you to go.” The cat must have been holding in a full bladder because, even from the doorway, Jimin and Jungkook can hear the shhhhh sounds of the cat peeing while you watch like a proud mother.

Jimin lets out a relief sigh. He turns to Jungkook and holds out a hand. “Good job, partner.”

Jungkook shakes it, nodding in acknowledgement. He’s still thinking if he had really felt the cat or if it was just his own imagination. Sometimes it’s easier to realise a phantom feeling especially when you’ve experienced that feeling before. Everybody knows what it feels like to touch a cat and if you imagine running your hand in cat’s fur, you can feel it. That’s how Jungkook is rationalising the situation. That’s also why the phantom limb syndrome is prevalent among amputees, right?

Jimin retreats back into the bedroom but Jungkook lingers, watching you pick up the cat and put it outside of the tub as you clean up the contents. The cat slinks past him and Jungkook subconsciously steps away. He doesn’t want to deal with all these questions if he’s honest. He’s not good with thinking, prefers not to. Thankfully for him, Taehyung comes forward, crouches down and starts tickling the cat’s chin. Like Jungkook, he falls back in surprise once his fingers touch the cat’s neck floof.

He cranes his neck to look up at Namjoon. “Hyung,” he says, eyes bugging and mouth hanging open. “I can touch him.”

Namjoon furrows his eyebrows, not comprehending. “Yeah? I suppose you can.”

Taehyung’s eyes only widened even more. “No, hyung. I can touch him.”

Now, Namjoon is completely baffled by the younger man’s bewilderment of wanting to touch the cat and telling him that he can. Taehyung only reiterates himself, this time turning to Hoseok, Yoongi and Jin in turn. “I can touch him.”

He offers no further explanation, the words eluding him like trying to catch fish with his bare hands, slipping right through his grasp the moment he thinks he got them. So he resorts to only communicating with his expression, hoping that they understood him enough to get what he meant.

Yoongi steps forward and gets low on the ground next to Taehyung. He doesn’t speak but reaches out a hand to pet the cat’s head. He pulls his hand back quickly, looking up at Namjoon and Jin in the same surprised expression. “I can feel him,” he says. “I can feel his fur.”

~~~

I step out of the bathroom to find the cat sitting in the middle of the bedroom, just sitting there and looking at nothing in particular, tails swishing behind him.

He seems to be leaning into something, the posture cats do when they’re getting neck scratches; eyes closed, purring softly. And then he opens his mouth.

~~~

“Holy hell, what the fuck was that?”

Yoongi and Taehyung have both scooted back so fast their backs are pressed against the side of the bed. Hoseok is almost climbing Namjoon, grabbing the other man’s arm so tight Namjoon flinches when his nails dig into his flesh. The cat lets out another meow, or he thinks it’s a meow.

It’s loud and gruff, a combination of a mewl of a cat and the chirp of a leopard. “Whoa, boy,” you laugh, standing there with a mixture of surprise and mirth on your face. “What was that?”

Jimin circles around to stand in front of you in a protective stance, putting distance between you and the cat. Twin-tailed, strange eyes, an even stranger voice and the fact that they could touch it; Jimin doesn’t trust it. He wants the cat out of the house and as far away as possible from you. They know nothing of the cat, never appearing in past cycles before and yet here it is, suddenly planting itself in your life. It makes him uncomfortable, insecure. He doesn’t like it.

The cat turns around, eyes looking straight at Jimin as if it knows what he’s thinking. For some reason, Jimin couldn’t look away.

~~~

The cat turns around facing me but he’s looking at a spot not quite me, but somewhere higher.

I look up towards the ceiling but can’t quite pinpoint anything. I shrug, chalking it up to him just being a strange cat. I rub the cat’s head as I pass by towards the bed, checking that the Zoom class is finished. It’s ten minutes until the next one starts so I decide to get ready, leave the online class running once it starts and take the cat to the vet.

I have the Uber app searching for a car nearby while I braid up my hair and throw on a cap. The lecturer is droning on on Zoom but it’s taking Uber longer than expected. I head on downstairs and go to find Mr Chang, asking for a box. He produces one large enough to put the cat in for transportation but doesn’t seem to agree with me bringing the cat into town by myself.

I laugh at him. “Well, then, you can come with.”

He regards the box long and hard before he firmly shakes his head. “Sorry, miss. I have a lot to take care of in the yard.”

I don’t push him, already expecting the answer. “I think I might need to go up all the way to the main road if I want to get a car to take me into town,” I sigh, checking the car app. “Or maybe I’d have to do it the old fashion way, get Mrs Oliviera to call me a taxi.”

Mr Chang breaks into a smile, his concern for the cat wiped off his face. “You don’t need a taxi,” he says, “if you have a driver’s licence. Do you?”

“I do but I’d need a car to go with that,” I reply sarcastically.

His smile turns into a wide grin. “We do have one. In the garage.”

I stare at him. “There’s a garage?”

~~~

Yoongi completely forgot about it.

Standing there as Mr Chang opens the garage double doors and revealing his first ever lover, his eyes immediately soften, his heart bubbling with the emotions set aside for as long as the red vintage beauty has been neglected. Dust motes swirl in the air in the sunlight that washes in through the opened garage but the paint still gleams.

Yoongi looks at Mr Chang and he immediately understands who has been taking care of his baby.

~~~

Mr Chang looks overly pleased as he checks for my expression after revealing the car.

I got to give it to him, though. It’s a thing of beauty, the red paint gleaming in the sunlight, the silver fenders twinkling and reflecting the light back in my eyes. The convertible top is up and I peer in through the window at the red-white interior, unable to stop myself from gawking. It’s completely breathtaking.

“Whoa,” I breathe, and that’s all I could say.

“Yes, whoa,” Mr Chang says with a small chuckle. He opens the driver's door and gestures for me to sit. “Go on.”

I do, sliding into the seat and feeling myself sinking into the leather. I run my hands over the steering wheel, eyes looking wildly around at the vintage dashboard and the analogue metre gauges. There’s a slight musk inside the car, nothing unpleasant but something I’m sure I’ve smelt before, like a favourite childhood scent that immediately gives you a sense of comfort and safety yet you can’t really remember what it is if someone asks you.

“Like what you see?” Mr Chang teases as he leans against the door. “It’s vintage. 1960-”

“Chevy Impala,” I finished for him, catching myself by surprise. I look up at him but the gardener-cum-groundskeeper only sees my excitement.

“You know your cars, huh,” he comments lightheartedly. I don’t respond, not even sure how I knew but he’s already talking again. “I’ve been taking care of it since I was young and my father before me. He had been very fond of this car.”

“It’s your father’s?”

He shakes his head. “No. It’s…a friend’s. We just help maintain it. A car needs to run for it to have a long life. My father used to take it out for a short spin on the property when...er, well, when he can.”

~~~

…when I wasn’t around to be able to, Yoongi thinks, finishing out the actual sentence Mr Chang had initially planned to say.

Yoongi remembers that first day he brought the beauty home, sitting proud in the driver’s seat, an elbow leaning against the door as he drove leisurely down the gravel road to the front of the house, a smug grin on his face and a pair of newly-bought shades on the bridge of his nose. You had been waiting by the front door, snorting and laughing at him but proud all the same because you had picked the colour. The other guys just stood there, arms crossed, unbelieving that he had actually gone and bought the damn car.

“Unfuckingbelievable,” Namjoon mouthed, shaking his head but it had been good-naturedly, proven by the smirk on his face that went along with the shaking of his head.

But what the others thought about his purchase didn’t matter to Yoongi. All that mattered to him in that moment, as he cruised slowly to a stop, was the look on your face, a soft smile playing on your lips, your eyes sparkling with all the love you had for him, no judgement, no sarcasm and not even focused on the new toy he was driving. Just him.

“Hey there, lover,” you had greeted him as he stepped out of the car. “Red looks good on you it seems.” Yoongi remembers everything. He remembers the way he had taken your hand, light in his, and guided you to the passenger side.

Now, he approaches the driver’s side, standing there, a slight longing of wanting to be behind the wheel again as he watches you put your hands on it, testing the grip. It’s amazing, isn’t it, love? He thinks. The wheel feels good, reliable, doesn’t it? Like it’ll take you to places you’ve never been before, safely. That’s what I wanted to do, why I bought the car. For you, my love. For you.

You look up and for a moment, Yoongi is taken aback as you look straight at him. His breath catches in his throat and his stomach does a flip. “This is amazing, Mr Chang,” you say breathlessly and his heart falls. Yoongi swallows a hard lump in his throat and steps back.

~~~

“Right?” Mr Chang replies. He leans in and flips open the sun visor above my head to produce a key. He slides it into the ignition carefully and turns, the engine starting up with a loud, luscious purr.

“Listen to that,” he says, with a grin. “It’s a total beast, isn’t it?”

I can tell that he’s very excited about the car. The pristine condition of it is an obvious proof of how much love and care he had put in in place of his father’s friend. The owner of the car would’ve been proud to know that they’re baby is being taken care of so well. The keychain dangles against my knee and I look down to see a coin-sized basketball, the colour and details worn with time. I squish it in between my fingers, rolling it around.

Three letters on the back of the ball are almost invisible now but I can still make them out: MYG. Is that the initials of the actual owner? I wonder what it stands for but something itches in the back of my mind the longer I stare at the alphabets. What was his or her connection to my grandaunt? It must be significant considering this vintage car that would have fetched for millions was left here on her property.

“You think you can take this baby downtown to the vet?” Mr Chang’s question rips me out of my thoughts and I look up, releasing the keychain.

I shake my head, nervous. “I don’t think I should. It’s too-”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The gardener is shaking his head.

~~~

“Come on, baby,” Yoongi mutters. “You know you want to. You’ve done it before.”

“I forgot about this car,” Jin says to Yoongi. “I remember that first time you brought it home.”

Namjoon snorts. “It was so fucking red I thought it was the most ridiculous thing.”

Yoongi smiles. “And then everyone wants to take it out on a spin.”

“But you wouldn’t let me drive it,” Jungkook pouts.

“Yes, I did.”

“For like five minutes,” Jungkook argues but not really seriously. “And only down this street to the main gate! You wouldn’t even let me go past thirty!”

They all laugh as they reminisce, nostalgia kicking up the memory dust. But Yoongi is just a bit more sentimental than usual, hanging back, not really laughing but just smiling although it doesn’t reach his eyes. He had loved this car, not as much as he loves you, but close. Most of his courtings were taking you out on a drive with the top down and the wind in your hair as you drew little waves with your hand out the window. The first time he had kissed you had been in this car, too, you almost in his lap, his hand cupping your cheek gently, gently because you’re the most precious thing to him.

He blinks a few times, regaining his composure, and turns to Hoseok. “If she goes, you go with her.”

Hoseok immediately rejects the idea. “No, hyung. You should go.”

“But we agreed that you should lead this cycle,” Yoongi says back quietly.

Hoseok pats him on the shoulder. “We have all the time we need. And it wouldn’t change anything if it starts with you, hyung.” He nudges the older man. “Go.”

~~~

Twenty minutes later, after having to sneak around the house avoiding the housekeeper, I have the cat sitting in the box and place it on the floor of the passenger seat and me buckle up behind the wheel.

I take one last look at the gardener, making sure that this is alright. “Are you sure about this?”

Mr Chang steps away from the car, closes the door for me and gestures to the open road ahead. “Safe journey, my lady,” he says, with a slight tip of his head. “I’ll let Ollie know that you’ll be back a little late for dinner.”

He flicks his gaze to the passenger seat as if checking for something but looks back at me. “Drive safe.”

~~~

Yoongi settles himself in the passenger side, the box with the cat in between his legs. He runs his hand gingerly against the door, trying to feel it with his memories instead.

The other guys are standing just outside his door, and Jimin leans in through the window. “Have fun, hyung,” he says with a wink and Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“It’s not like I can do anything,” he mumbles, bending down to check on the cat. It seems to be behaving pretty well, looking up at him curiously but sitting down on all fours calmly, like a black, fluffy version of the Sphinx Pyramid, if the pyramid had two tails, black and white intertwining behind it. It’s unsettling and Yoongi closes one flap of the box so he doesn’t have to look at it, or for the cat to be able to look at him through its blue-yellow halfsies eyes.

You shift into gear, looking a little nervous and Yoongi is starting to doubt if this was a good idea. You said you had a licence but how skilled of a driver are you? Why didn’t Chang ask this? Yoongi holds in the sigh, sitting back and resolving himself. Well, it's too late to do anything now. You release the emergency brake and Yoongi wishes that he can at least use the seatbelt or hold on to the panic bar above him, knowing that you hate nothing more than having a passenger do the latter.

Namjoon notices the fisted hands in Yoongi’s lap and he almost bursts into laughter but decides maybe to not further egg the man. He hides his face behind Jin’s shoulders. As the car starts to glide forward slowly, not one of them remembers to check the time or the sun’s position in the sky. Not one of them thinks about how far out you’d have to drive to find the vet or how long it would take for you to get back. It doesn’t even cross their minds that when you come back, the sun will be long gone.

All they think about is how much Yoongi loves the car and how much he had missed driving it; it was his pride and joy. He’s a frugal man and it had been his one and only luxurious purchase for himself. They remembered how he would spend hours just buffing and fussing with the coat, only coming back inside when you went to fetch him, whether it was sunny or snowy. They know that by having him in the car with you could make the man a little happier to at least ride in it again, even if he couldn’t drive it.

In his panic and anxiousness, Yoongi only focuses on your driving, forgetting that he only has about two and half hours before his invisibility lets up and it’s a thirty-minute drive to the nearest veterinarian. You, on the other hand, have two stops to make. Your driving should be the least of his worries.

a/n2: introducing our new little friend! I had a friend (IG: freeddoodles) draw me this little guy that is yet to be named. I'm so excited to show him to you guys because I wanted for this one character to come to life! Yes, he's based on a Japanese folklore, the nekomata. Lmk what you think about this chapter in the comments or ask :)

Next>>

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Check out my other works → :MASTERLIST:

Taglist (open):

@effielumiere @queen-in-the-shadows @singukieee @ot7nem @thelewddreamer @jaxavance @serendididy @peacedreamer14 @uarmyhore

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washipink · 1 year

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Rain by Jocelyn Samara D (Year 2: 2012)

Look, I am FIENDING this comic. I’ve already read through yet another year. This time, it’s chapter 7: Mixed Feelings through chapter 12: Drab.

Last time’s summary was super long because I had to establish our base cast, so this time I’ll try to keep it ONLY to major events.

After the very eventful Halloween party, everyone’s pretty fucked up. One of the straight classmates is VERY convinced he’s gay because he thought Ky was cute. Ky agonizes about exactly what gender she might be and how to tell Rain. Emily breaks up with her creepy boyfriend.

As for Rain and Rudy, they’re both VERY fucking confused about what that kiss of theirs means. After being prodded by pretty much everyone in the school, they have a heartfelt conversation in which Rudy says he likes Rain for who she is rather than what she is. That it doesn’t matter if she’s a girl or a boy.

I have a LOT to say about this scene in particular. If this came out today, the baby gays on twitter would have their heads explode. I can already hear the claims that Rudy is transphobic because he’s a gay boy that is attracted to a trans woman. I can already hear the Bi-Gay discourse. It’s AWFUL and if you start it on this post, you’re blocked.

I’d completely forgotten about the Rain/Rudy THING so I was pretty surprised when he spoke his heart on the matter. Once again, the comic goes out of its way to portray the messy realities of growing up queer. Sometimes, its like jamming puzzle pieces that shouldnt match together. Rain is not a man, but loving her doesn’t make Rudy straight.

That said, it is NOT heartening that their ship name is “RuIn”.

Gavin and Maria take it pretty rough, considering how badly THEY wanted to be with Rain. While it’s played for laughs for a bit, it does genuinely create a fracture between Rain and her friends that lasts for a while.

While they’re avoiding Rain, Gavin gets MORE into her somehow. Like, Gavin is HORNY horny.

Eventually, Maria reconnects with Chanel, a girl she met at the Halloween party. This is because she heard Chanel doesn’t like men, so she thinks she has a shot.

And it turns out she does. She’s REALLY friendly and ends up telling Maria to her face that she should just apologize to Rain and see what happens.

Our Queer Quartet (ft. Gavin) expands to a Merry Band of Five.

Rain’s even been getting along with Emily since the party.

It looks like everything’s gonna be fine!

Until Fara gets a call from Rain’s big brother.

You see, something went wrong for Aiken and he needs a place to crash. That means....

Rain is going to have to play pretend for a while.

And since Rain is being Ryan, he can't have a BOYFRIEND, now can he? So, Rudy must once again become Ruby. And if you ask me, he really like it. Like, he's ENTHUSIASTIC about crossdressing. There's so much gender going on in this cast.

During this chapter, Rain and Ky find out what each others deals are, kinda. It's an unfortunate accident in which Ky was going to "come clean" to Rain, but finds her in drab.

Anyway, things are going well. Rain, Aiken, Gavin, Rudy, Ky, and Fara go to the mall because things are getting crowded in the apartment... but Aiken encounters none other than Emily's creepy grown-ass-man ex-boyfriend. Who draws the connection between Rain and her older sister, who he used to be engaged to.

There are some real "Small World" connections in this comic.

Anyway, Aiken does NOT take it well. He pieces together Rain's new hair cut with the similar person Chase described. And it just so happens that the entire reason Aiken was here was that he broke things off with his fiance... because she is ALSO trans.

Aiken is... of course... transphobic at Rain. His big hang up is the idea that he was "lied to" by yet another "selfish tranny", so of course Fara chews him the fuck out.

I'm gonna allow the last page of the chapter to speak for itself.

Final Thoughts

Year 2 was way more interesting than Year 1. Now that all the major players have been introduced, Samara can ramp up the drama and let them interact in more complex ways.

I love this cast so much because every one of them feels like someone I've met. When I first read it, I didn't really have experience with anyone even remotely similar besides Aiken.

Something similar to exactly this happened to me when I was reading:

My mom borrowed my phone once and saw a page titled "Rain LGBT" in my history. She didn't read it or anything, she just saw those 4 little letters and Lost It. Cornered me while everyone was out of the room at a family gathering and everything. Aiken's reaction to Rain's authentic self really hit home for me. it's easy to tell why she's so scared to tell him. People have hurt queer people for less.

On the topic of the comedy, I'm not sure if its gotten any better or if I'm just more endeared to the characters having read so far.

In terms of Chapter count, we're already 25% of the way done.

For those of you reading along, I'll see you for Year 3.

#Rain Comic #Rain LGBT #Jocelyn Samara D #LGBT Webcomic #Rain Webcomic #Queer Art #lgbtq #Amy's Rain Review

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blueeyedrat · 11 months

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Steam Next Fest, summer 2023, for real this time. I was able to fit in more games than I anticipated, which is good, since there were plenty that caught my eye. First impressions and general thoughts under the cut.

(Part 1)

Viewfinder — Another entry in the proud lineage of "first-person puzzle games that do weird non-Euclidean shit" — Portal, Antichamber, Superliminal, et al. These games are always impressive in some way (concept, tech, style), and Viewfinder carries on the tradition. The core mechanic, overlaying photos onto "real" space and having their contents become equally real and able to be interacted with, is pulled off well. The puzzles in the demo show off a lot of interesting ways it can be used, and how its basic rules and assumptions can be bent and challenged. I'm very interested in this one, and I'm looking forward to when it comes out.

Stick to the Plan — A grid puzzle game about getting a small dog from point A to point B while carrying a long, unwieldy stick. I've seen the original Game Jam version on itch.io but never got around to playing it. The game seems up my alley, though, so I'm glad it's being expanded upon. Easy to pick up the basic concept, but enough room for introducing new mechanics and gimmicks to keep things interesting.

Gambit Shifter — A chess-themed puzzle game. I don't have much to say about it, but what I do have to say is positive. It's a simple enough idea (if you're familiar with how chess pieces move on a grid) with a decent variety of puzzles and simple, stylized chess pieces. That's all you need, I suppose.

Iron Roads — A train management sim. This one didn't quite land for me. The management part (building stations and rails and bridges, buying trains, planning routes, implementing logic for train stops and the like) didn't hold my interest, and the rest of it felt a little bare-bones. It's relatively early in development so there's room to improve, but I don't think this one's for me.

Causeway — A sleek-looking puzzle game about connecting traffic lines. I expected more to it than that, but it's actually pretty minimalist: draw paths, connect input roads to output roads, let the simulation play out and hope you did it correctly so there's no overflow or collision. I couldn't find any way to adjust the camera and the interface felt a little awkward in general, especially when trying to fine-tune a road on the edge of the map or place a bunch of roads and bridges near each other. I like this one in concept, but less in practice.

Laysara: Summit Kingdom — So, uh, all of the city builders I've played in the past few years are getting sequels all of a sudden. Cities: Skylines, Airborne Kingdom, Before We Leave, all have sequels lined up. I hope I have time to play them. I also hope I have time to play Laysara when it comes out, because it pushes all the same buttons. A builder with a nice gameplay loop of making numbers go up and having everything fit together just right (but it's all on a grid, so you don't have to fit it all into place that much), and a unique gimmick or two to top it off. I've been looking forward to this one for almost a year, and I don't think that'll change any time soon.

Bulwark: Falconeer Chronicles — A sandbox city builder that shares a setting with the dev's previous work, The Falconeer (a game I'm not actually that familiar with, and have only seen in passing). As far as builders go, this is one of the most unorthodox I've played, mostly due to its control scheme. You traverse a network of connected buildings and extend that network upward and outward, rather than moving around the map independently and building from the top down (though with a useful airship, you're not entirely locked out of the latter). It's streamlined, but at the same time it feels like there's some nuance that I'm either not quite getting or can't access in this demo — supply lines and logistics, defenses, managing diplomacy and conflict with the different in-game factions, and so on. Despite Bulwark's oddities, or perhaps even because of them, I actually kinda dig it and I'm interested to see more. Mr. Sala, you have my attention.

Quest Master — A 2D Zelda-like with a focus on creating custom dungeons. It's been too long since I've dug into a good level editor. A good Zelda Maker might scratch that itch, though, especially since we've got options on that front (I should check out Super Dungeon Maker at some point, for comparison). Admittedly, this one might need some more time in the oven; no matter which control scheme you're using, the interface isn't as intuitive as I'd like and feels a bit awkward switching in and out of build mode, and currently there's no way to re-map any of the controls to mitigate this. It's got some neat ideas, though, and I'd like to see the game when it's been fully fleshed out.

Saltsea Chronicles — A point-and-click narrative game. I've had Die Gute Fabrik's previous foray into the genre (Mutazione) on my backlog for a while, and started up a playthrough after this game was announced. What I've seen so far in both games has been really interesting in terms of worldbuilding and character writing. Saltsea Chronicles seems particularly ambitious, with an ensemble cast and an episodic plot — each "episode" brings your motley crew to a different island in the Saltsea and you can choose who goes ashore to gather information, resources, mementos, etc., discovering more of the world and its inhabitants, advancing individual stories and the overarching narrative throughout. The demo episode was really well-written, and I am immediately invested in this setting and these characters. Of all the games I played in this Next Fest, this one might be the sleeper hit of the lot.

#viewfinder game #saltsea chronicles #laysara: summit kingdom #the falconeer #stick to the plan game #gambit shifter #quest master game #causeway game #bryan writes about games

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sasubaeuchithot · 3 months

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Do you see Orochimaru and Kabuto as a pairing? only asking as at the end of Shiten you have them talking about trying to merge their chakras or being interested in it, and orochi is speaking very fondly of Kabuto. Would be an interesting take 🤷‍♀️

I definitely don't ship them at all; they definitely feel too much like a parental-child relationship to me. but they do have a strong intellectual connection to one another. they are both always on the same wavelength, matching thoughts and vibes. merging chakras can technically be done by any two people whether they have a strong connection or not, it's just incredibly difficult. like puzzle pieces can be jammed together even if they aren't the perfect match, you know? it's just not easy. the process requires intimacy with one another. the two hosts don't have to be lovers at all, but it is immensely easier to do with someone you have a strong connection with- understanding how to slot your chakras together can feel very intimate in the same way as someone knowing your darkest secrets is. that kind of intimacy is easiest with two lovers, but platonic relationships absolutely can also have that. it's just about knowing one another on a very deep level.

but a spoiler that's not really a spoiler: kabuto and orochimaru do have a lot tougher of a time figuring it out than Sasuke and Naruto do, mainly because they dont quite have the level of trust between one another to allow the other easy access. after all, Sasuke and Naruto are canonical soulmates who've known each other's chakra since the literal dawn of chakra on their earth itself. kabuto and orochimaru both like to keep their secrets and don't really let anyone in too deep; it's one of the things they vibe with and respect in one another, but it does make the task of figuring out how to merge their chakras together much more difficult.

#ask sasubaeuchithot #kizunaverse

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evil-ontheinside · 1 year

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Why is writing Dustin literally the funniest thing? I don't know how it keeps happening but I wrote at least three different times from his pov and every time it has the best lines. Have some various snippets from my WIPs to prove my point:

"Why do you have to be so negative about this? You will not be the one in trouble should something go wrong, I will handle the consequences." He has his arms crossed in front of his chest and it might have been intimidating - especially with that dagger still in hand - but it's not because it's Michael. The Prince, sure, but also the person Dustin had seen sitting drenched in the fountain of the main plaza, looking like a wet cat and grumbling about it with the dignity of a small child. The cut-off curtains, draped over his shoulder like a makeshift cape, don’t command much respect either. ----

Dustin had been playing one of his favorite songs, approved of by all the important people at home, including the royal family. He knows it better than the back of his hand, could perform it in his sleep if he had to, had played it while being attacked by a ranger in the forest - yes Lucas, this story will be made into a song sooner or later, there is no escape. ----

Dustin knows nothing. Prince Michael, who? Wait, no, Dustin knows something. But nothing important. Yes, that sounds better. ----

“You won’t believe this.” Dustin almost chokes on his drink when he looks up and sees Hopper storm into the Byers’ kitchen. He did not just hear the chief of police Jim Hopper say You won’t believe this also known as the most stereotypical sitcom-drama sentence ever, right? “Try me,” is all Joyce answers, completely unphased, from the kitchen table where they all sit together and try to complete a 2000-piece jigsaw puzzle. It’s going worse than he anticipated. At the same time Dustin triumphantly fits a piece into the right place, does he realize that this must be a normal occurrence. Jim Hopper, taken right out of the afternoon’s soap opera. He’ll need some time to process this later. -----

If anyone asks why he decided to spend one of the last days of summer vacation with Max underneath a lonely tree in the middle of an open field? They’re studying, obviously. Or having a romantic getaway that lasted for a few hours and will never happen ever again. They had planned to make this an extended Party event but, as usual, life just won’t go according to Dustin’s plan. He had it all planned out: camping for a night in a - of course completely randomly selected, no doubt about it - field in town, a DnD campaign crafted by Eddie himself to celebrate the last days of summer and far away from prying eyes to not disturb anyone. But no, the Byers and Hoppers - soon to be only Hoppers, Dustin is more than just a little excited for that wedding. He also had that fully planned out years ago but his planning was, as usual, not appropriately appreciated - had to make an impromptu family trip to god knows where, Steve, Eddie, and Robin - this betrayal maybe left the deepest wound - had suddenly all decided to take a road trip without telling anyone else beforehand, and the Sinclairs had all been jammed into their family car and carted off to visit a dying relative somewhere in Indianapolis. This left Max and Dustin all alone in Hawkins. At least Max was always down for a little espionage to search for possible gossip. Though Max had almost ditched him when he complained - totally justified by the way - about everyone leaving them behind when they should’ve been here with them, lying in waiting for the newest information. -----

Dustin doesn’t care. The others can hide their interest for all they want but he’s here to gather information and he’s not ashamed of it. His observations might as well be for science. His curiosity doors are wide open, he can’t risk only looking through a crack if he wants the full picture. -----

What the fuck do they need an old wooden chest for? Why doesn’t Dustin have an old wooden chest? He could totally pull off an old wooden chest in his room. Maybe, and Dustin thinks this with reluctance of the highest order, the rumors aren't as ridiculous and farfetched as they sounded at first. This family might not be quite normal. [...] A few more boxes join the wooden chest - and Dustin is still not over that. This thing looks like it was taken straight out of a medieval fantasy story. The cheek, the gall to show off their cool wooden chest in front of Dustin without considering his feelings - neatly stacked on top of it before he simply gets behind the wheel and takes off without giving them an answer as if he hadn’t even heard them.

#I just love him #he is so fun to write #and yes most of this is Mike and Dustin bc most of my stuff is about Mike but their dynamic is just too good #I almost prefer Dustin's pov over Mike's tbh #but yeah that's my wip for today #dustin henderson #stranger things #Henler #Wheelderson #I'm just gonna use both of those tags. no idea which one is actually used #mike wheeler #the party #writing wip #stranger things royal au

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bratkook · 4 years

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like you used to. jjk

“So kill me like you used to...”

part two.

pairing. ex boyfriend!jungkook x reader genre. angst, mentions of smut, toxic exes warnings. very toxic depictions of relationships, hints at infidelity, drunken mistakes, they’re both very toxic for each other and just can’t stay away, brief mentions of smut word count. 2.9k note. this is just a lump of angst that my mind conjured at 1am last night, i just love angst and messy relationships that are destined to fail 😌(its not edited so if u see a typo no u dont)

It always started with a phone call.

Whether it was from you or him always changed. Sometimes he’d get the call at two in the morning, vision blurry as he brought the phone to his face and saw your name illuminated on the screen, that old goofy selfie you had together still set as your contact photo. He’d hesitate for a moment just to keep you on your toes before pressing accept, already getting up and putting pants on because he knew just what you were calling for.

Tonight was your turn to be on the receiving end, laying in bed comfortably as you scrolled through random posts to try to help you sleep, the flash of his face fills your phone, it’s a random close up photo of his eyes staring right into the camera, crinkled up in a smile. Even though his name is changed in your contacts, no longer having the cute bunny emoji tacked to the end, you know you’ll still pick up in a heartbeat. And you do.

The second you press accept you’re met with the familiar sound of his voice, slurred and thick as he speaks so jumbled up you would barely be able to understand him if you didn’t already know what he was saying. It was the same things he always said whenever he got like this, proclamations of love that only cut up your freshly scabbed over wounds, salt rubbing into them when he cries about how he misses you, promises to change.

They get cut off when the phone is yanked away from his grasp, the second familiar voice belonging to his buddy Yugyeom now speaking into the receiver. “You gotta pick him up Y/N.”

The annoyance is evident in his voice, the babbling of Jungkook still heard in the background along with the dull beat of whatever place they were outside of.

“He’s not my responsibility Yugyeom.”

He simply sighs into the phone, staring at his mess of a friend before rubbing his jaw, sore and aching from where he had just been socked after attempting to force him into an uber. “Yeah well he won’t let anyone else take him home, he’s drunk as fuck. I’ll send you the location.”

Not waiting for a response he hangs up and sends you a pin of where they’re at, thrusting the phone back into his friend’s hands before getting into that uber and leaving Jungkook alone while he whines against the dirty bar wall, crouching down onto the filthy sidewalk as the car drove off.

Yugyeom knew you would come to his rescue like you always did, never once saying no and letting Jungkook fend for himself because on the rare occasions where you’d call him drunk and crying he’d do the same.

Getting into the car still dressed in your pajamas, shoes thrown on without being laced up, hair still messy, it felt like routine now from how often it happened. Jungkook called you sober, text you while in a sane state of mind, but without fail at least once a month he’d get absolutely shit faced and call you, leaving you what he thought were heartfelt voicemails if by some chance you didn’t answer.

It was the same bar every time, a bar you used to frequent with him, knowing the location and all the small side streets to get you there without needing directions. Doing this felt like such a normal part of your life it almost made you forget that you and Jungkook weren’t together anymore. It’s been a year since you split and you still find yourself thinking if things could be different.

Would it have been best if you never confessed to each other, never admitted to the small inkling of a crush before it was able to fully blossom? It was hard not to wonder how different life would be now if you had walked away the first time things went south, if he had walked away after the first argument.

Whenever he called you, pulled you in with those drunken promises it was easy to convince yourself that your relationship was perfect, that it was worth all of the struggles. Your brain morphed each fight, each time you cried alone, twisted it around and molded it to make it easier to consume, easier to believe you were meant to be.

You thought you were soulmates, and maybe you were, two people destined to be together, meeting at the wrong time, under the wrong circumstances. What was meant to be perfect puzzle pieces connected had slowly turned into jagged edges that no longer clicked regardless of how hard you tried to jam them together, foolishly thinking you could spill your love into the gaps to mend the spaces, making the pieces whole once more.

Love was never enough.

Love made you stupid, made you blind and gullible, smiling through lies to avoid arguments, going to bed angry until he was hovering over you, coaxing you into forgiveness with soft kisses and gentle touches. It always went this way, regardless of who’s fault it was without fail he’d end up slot between your legs, the only time the puzzle pieces connected perfectly, allowing him to fuck you as if he’d never see you again. Murmurs of love and adoration were passed between panting breaths, sloppy kisses, shared moans to mask the empty promises you made every time.

Staying away from each other was a hard habit to kick, the two of you stuck on an endless game of seesaw, neither of you having the guts to get off and move on. All it took was a simple drunk phone call for you to go his way, the slur of his voice as he cries into the receiver about how much he loved you, missed you, needed you next to him, wanted to try again. It reeled you in so easily, winding you up until you were hauling your sloppy ex boyfriend off the dirty floor and into your small car.

He remembers none of this, he never did, not fully anyways. Small tidbits of words he said flash in his mind as he comes to, drool on his cheek and neck sore from the unfortunate position he had slept in, groggy and unaware of his surroundings.

He knew your apartment too well, recognized the green wall he had helped you paint, now holding endless pictures of you and your friends. None of Jungkook anymore.

All of those photos were gone now, not burned or shredded in some ritual to get over him, simply tucked into a box and shoved so far into your closet you hoped you would forget it. You never did of course, the way the box laid dust free made it clear how often you pulled it out and sorted through the photos whenever you had too much wine, whenever you had off days where you just felt so alone and wished you could go back to the times you had convinced yourself were better. They weren’t, you knew they weren’t once you sobered up and balanced out your emotions.

Jungkook doesn’t feel bothered that not a trace of him remained visible in your home, he knew his presence lingered in the cracks, buried so deep in the crevices of your mind he knew you would always think of him.

He groans softly as his eyes roam the interior of your home, the throbbing in his temples making him stop and shut his lids, not needing to analyze the place he was at less than two weeks ago when you had called him over. Jungkook briefly wonders if he should sneak his way out, not used to waking up on the couch instead of in your bed right beside you, maybe he had said something last night that crossed the line and landed him on the couch as a punishment.

As you finally emerge from your room his plan of escape is put to a stop, his eyes gravitating towards your bedroom door, seeing the way you cautiously step out. Having heard Jungkook wake up since you had already been awake for the past hour, your body not allowing you to sleep while knowing he was in the other room, it took a few minutes of courage before you were able to face him.

Spotting him on your couch shows how much he doesn’t belong, the pinned leather jacket he wore looking so harsh against the light coloring of your furniture, his dark disheveled hair contrasting with the tidy way you organized your apartment. He senses it, the skin crawling sensation that spreads the longer you stare at him, how he felt so out of place somewhere he used to call home at one point.

“Thank you for picking me up.” He chooses to break the silence, voice raspy, his internal self screaming at him for always doing this. His eyes are sincere, genuinely meaning it, knowing just how messy he got when he had too much to drink, how his friends could never handle him when he crossed the line and began to call for you.

Like always his words were routine so he expects it when you huff and say, “You need better friends Jungkook.”

“I know.” Because he did, he knew his friends enabled him, riled him up and once he became too much they pushed him onto you, knowing Jungkook’s grip on you was still too strong for you to ever say no.

“What if I hadn’t picked you up? Would they have left you on the side of the bar to fend for yourself?”

“Probably,” he shrugs, from past experiences he knows very well they would have. His friends had dealt with Jungkook crying over you far too much, their patience fully stamped out, no longer able to tolerate him when he became like this.

Not even realizing when he begins to smile as he thought of the nights you didn’t pick up, how he had ended up in the most random locations because he refused to go home to a place you weren’t, he snaps out of it when you scoff. “It’s not funny Jungkook, you could have gotten hurt or something.”

There it was, the reason you were upset. Not because he had called you and spewed the same bullshit he always did, no that you could tolerate. You were upset, and worried, that you’d get a following call from someone stating he had injured himself while calling for you.

“I know.”

You pause to breathe, his short responses not irking you like it should, arms crossed over your chest as you observe your ex boyfriend still sitting on the couch, looking like a scolded child.

“You can’t call me anymore Jungkook.” How you have the nerve to say that to him is funny, acting as if ten days ago you weren’t the one doing this to him, telling him you missed him, securing your anchor around his foot and dragging him back under with you.

This is the checklist you needed to go down, a formality of the morning after so he doesn’t mind it. Instead he frowns at the way you continue to say his name, the way it rolls off your tongue makes him wince, missing the way you’d call him Kookie, playful pet names like Bunny, something he swore he hated but secretly loved. Jungkook wished he could hear you say it again, humor you with that damned bunny eared headband he’d wear to hear you laugh, squeal as he posed and dance for whatever silly video you recorded as you shouted out the ridiculous nickname.

The last time he heard those words spill out of your mouth had been too long ago.

“I’m sorry.” he admits, he knew he had to stop, couldn’t continue to hold onto the past, knowing how wrong you were for each other but he wasn’t the only one. Those were the same words you told him ten days ago, apologizing with guilty eyes for asking him to come over when you were lonely, needing a familiar body to occupy the space next to you, wanting his hands to soothe you, make you feel whole again just for a night.

Once the sun came up it was back to normal, the two of you having the repeat conversation you had every time, the exact one you were having now. A formality. Nothing more, just mindless words that you would both agree to just to move along, to make you both feel better, more secure with yourself until the next time the phone rang.

Your heart twists in your chest as you look at him, the same toxic love you had for him brewing in your heart, spilling over and burning you but you ignore the pain, convince yourself you don’t feel it as you breathe in. That same rope latches around Jungkook’s ankle as you avert your eyes for a brief second before looking back at him with a small sigh. “Do you want breakfast? I know how you get when you have a hangover.”

He smiles for the first time, charming as always, looking up at you through the subtle waves in his hair. “I probably shouldn’t.”

You know this. He definitely shouldn’t because breakfast will turn into words exchanged, civil at first, flirty the next, a coin flipped to decide if a petty argument would begin or if you’d reminisce about the good times. Regardless of the outcome, what always followed ended with you moaning out his name as he rocked into you, those same empty promises spilling through his lips that you swallowed with a kiss.

A brief moment of bliss, a small dose of the past that only serves to hurt you further but you crave it, loving the small rush that came with arguing, the roughness of his hands as he pushed you around before sliding home, burying his face into your neck as he broke you down all over again.

Normally you’d try to convince him further, but as your mouth opens to protest you get flashes of the night before, how you had carried Jungkook up your flight of stairs, hearing him ramble about nonsense so slurred together you paid it no mind. You would have had him sleep in your bed beside you like you always did but when you fish his phone out and begin to slide his jacket off it buzzes to life.

Always being nosey you type in his password, smiling when you realize it was still your old anniversary but when you unlock it and see a flood of messages from a girl named Natalie, calling him babe, asking where he was, the smile falls from your face as you start to snoop.

It doesn’t take much scrolling through their thread of messages to easily discover she was his girlfriend, blissfully unaware that he was shit faced and calling you, confessing to his love for you while she laid at home and wondered if he was having fun with his friends. She reminded you of yourself, of the way you used to be with him and it left a sour feeling on your tongue.

“Yeah you probably shouldn’t.”

He stands up now, following you slowly as you approach the door, heavy boots thumping on the hardwood as he reluctantly steps closer to the exit. He doesn’t want to leave, wants you to try to convince him to stay, not knowing that you knew the dirty secret he was hiding buried in his phone.

You don’t decide to tell him you know, it was pointless. That was just how Jungkook was wired, so much love to give he had to spread it out, give everyone a fair share of it, choosing to pretend he wasn’t being selfish. It was naive to believe it, to think all the love he held was strictly for you, it was why he was able to pull the hood over your eyes so easily.

Even when you pull the door open and give him a tightlipped smile he knows you’ll still call him, forget all about Natalie when you’re lonely once more. So when you look him in the eyes and sigh, “Goodbye Jungkook.” He knows it’s not for long, maybe a week or so, maybe less.

He simply smiles, stuffing his hands into his jeans as he shuffles out, turning to face you as he steps backwards. “See you later Y/N.” And his words sting in a way he doesn’t mean, knowing just how right he was.

Jungkook would never mind how heavy the anchor you hooked on his ankle was because he knew you would forever be a sucker for him.

As you shut the door behind you it feels like a small weight starts to hang from your shoulders, the same tug starting from your chest, guiding you into your room until you’re pulling out the cursed box and sorting through those damned photos. With stinging eyes you flip through them for a moment, focusing on all the laughs captured on film, blurry vision moving to your phone beside you, hands already itching to call him again.

It’s as if he knows, still inside your building, lingering in the lobby to give you a moment and it doesn’t take long. Once his phone starts to vibrate he smiles, staring at the photo of you as you call him like clockwork. With a clear of his throat he answers the phone, barely saying hello before he hears a small sniffle through the speaker.

“I miss you Kookie.”

Jungkook lets his eyes shut as he presses the elevator button, loving the feeling of being needed by you, already knowing to head back up because this was routine.

“I know you do baby, I’ll be right up.”

And just like that you’re once again desperately trying to make those stupid puzzle pieces fit together, hoping that maybe this time love would be enough.

#ficswithluv #goldenclosetnet #heartsforbts #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts angst #jeon jungkook #new

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spencersawkward · 3 years

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omg omg i know matthews birthday isnt for a couple weeks but i would die for a bday sex one shot omg

i made you wait so long for this i'm so sorry omg. one-shots usually take me longer bc i want them to be detailed!

summary: reader has plans for Matthew’s 41st birthday, but things take their own turn.

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, oral (male receiving), degradation, Soft!Dom Matthew with some fluff, too; fingering, creampie, implied age gap.

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

word count: 4.3k

masterlist

I haul the enormous bag of flour onto the counter, grunting. it's early afternoon, and my day has been spent wrapping all of Matthew's gifts and trying to plan out the perfect birthday celebration. he's turning 41, and all I want is for him to feel as special as he feels to me. the cake is the last piece of the puzzle, and I'm hoping that my less-than-excellent culinary skills improve over the course of the next few hours.

I set out all the ingredients first, swaying to my music while I go through the recipe and decide how much I need. it shouldn't be too complicated, right? just chocolate cake with buttercream frosting. I thought I'd try to recreate the Rumple Buttercup cartoon with it, but now I'm not so sure. that might be flirting with disaster.

instead of deciding right there, I just get started on the batter. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

the air is thick with sweetness and warmth as the oven slowly pre-heats and I stir together the silky smooth chocolate batter. I pour the mix into a round baking pan, tapping it a bit to make sure it's even, before pushing it into the oven. naturally, I lick the whisk clean.

my phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to see that Matthew's texted me.

on my way home now!

my heart stutters in my chest as I check the time. he's definitely early; he told me this morning that he wouldn't be at home until at least seven. my eyes flicker to the cake, over the messy kitchen, and back to my screen.

early?

yep. can't wait to see you. followed by a series of heart emojis. I start to panic a little. this throws my whole schedule off; I was going to do my hair, pick up food from his favorite restaurant, set the table, litter the bed with rose petals. I wanted everything to be just right for him; it's the first time he's had a birthday with me.

and now he's going to come home to me with flour-dusted cheeks and a half-baked cake. I quickly clean the kitchen and wipe my face before running off to the bedroom, rifling through my closet for something nice. thank god I already showered this morning because there's no way I'd have time now. I find the dress I'd planned to wear, red and slinky and pretty, before dropping my clothes and changing right away.

truly, I move at the speed of light when I do my hair, scatter the rose petals, and call the restaurant to get our order started. we'll need to run out and get it, but Matthew likes going for walks, so that shouldn't be a problem.

the smell of chocolate wafts through the house while I tie an apron around my waist and get a bowl out of the cabinets. the cake needs to cool for a while, but I might as well get started on the frosting. who knows how long that'll take?

too damn long, apparently.

Matthew opens the front door while I'm halfway through my crumb coat, the soft green shade of the Rumple Buttercup colors coming along nicely. I start to panic a little when I hear his footsteps on the stairs.

"Y/N!" he calls out.

"kitchen!" I respond without moving. he probably shouldn't see the cake, but at this point it's too late. there's fluffy buttercream frosting and food coloring all over my apron. all I can do is wait patiently as he strolls into the room.

"what are you up to?" he sets his hand on my back, smiling.

"making your cake, birthday boy."

"mmm." he wraps a hand around my arm, drags it down while leaning his chin on my shoulder. "looks really nice so far."

"you like the color?" I ask.

"I do." he mumbles, starting to touch my waist. "what material is this?"

"silk."

"you know I love that." he squeezes my waist and I have to resist the blush spreading up my cheeks. he's affectionate right now, and I want to resist, but it's hard.

"what're you doing?" I question playfully in response to the drifting of his fingers down my thighs.

"I'm excited to see you."

"I'm excited to see you, too, but we have a strict schedule tonight."

Matthew groans and drops his head into the space between my neck and shoulder. his hands don't leave my hips.

"why?" he whines.

"because I want you to have the best birthday ever." I smooth off the top of the cake, sighing when he digs his fingernails into me. it feels heavenly, and the featherlight kisses he's leveling on my jaw are making me woozy.

"making me wait?" he brushes over my ass, squeezing the flesh lightly. "that's cruel."

I laugh a little and swipe my finger through the frosting.

"try this and tell me if I'm still cruel."

he grabs my hand in both of his, sliding my index into his mouth and licking it off of me. my jaw drops in surprise before he pulls away and drops it. it's unbelievably sexy.

"that is really good." he smiles, then kisses my cheek in an alarmingly innocent manner. he knows what he's doing. "don't be a tease, darling."

"you--" I stutter, trying to regain my concentration. it's futile at this point; it isn't until he moves away from my body that I'm able to keep working on the cake. he only glances with a knowing smirk, walking around the counter to sit across from me.

"how was your day?"

"my day was jam-packed with planning for a little ingrate's birthday." I joke.

"I'm not an ingrate." he protests. one look at his pout and I feel guilty for teasing. standing on tiptoes, I lean over the counter and plant a kiss on his mouth.

"you're right, I'm sorry," I sigh. "I just had a whole plan and when you came home early, I didn't have time for all of it."

"what can I do?" he offers immediately. I scowl.

"you're not gonna help me prepare your birthday celebration, silly."

"but I wanna make it easier."

"you wanna make it easier?" I ask, the corners of my lips quirking up. he nods enthusiastically and I hold his gaze. "I need to go pick up our dinner, so you can walk with me."

"ooh, yes!" he leaps up in an almost child-like manner, coming around to my side again. I nuzzle into his shoulder as I finish piping the face onto the cake. he snorts when he sees the completed project. "is that Rumple?"

"shut up, it looks so bad." I complain. my body leans into his in defeat. even though I tried, Rumple looks like he's been possessed and exorcised in one sitting: he's got crazy eyes and a lopsided face.

"no, it's beautiful," he pecks the top of my head. "he's supposed to look funny."

all I can do is turn around and hug him, giggling at the absolute monstrosity that I've created. he wraps his arms around me tightly and we start to sway a little.

"I feel like Victor Frankenstein." I laugh. he untangles our bodies to tilt my chin up and look at him.

"you're way cuter." he rubs my nose with his own. I'm smiling so big, it hurts. he makes me so unbelievably happy, I can't imagine not being by his side. Matthew is the best boyfriend in the world, and I really want everything to live up to his expectations.

our fingers thread together briefly before we get ready to go pick up our food.

...

"I am literally going to combust." I giggle, throwing my napkin onto the table. red wax drips down the sides of the candle between us, and Matthew's eyes are starry as he watches me talk.

"good?" he asks.

"amazing. how was yours?"

"could barely get it down." he gestures to the empty plate. I throw my head back and laugh more than I should. Matthew frowns. "what?"

"that's such a dad joke."

"really?" he laughs along with me until we're both just smiling brightly at each other. I don't want to step too far; we've been dating under a year, still. but I see myself with Matthew forever. we've already moved in together; I've never felt so strongly as I feel for him, and I think that he feels it, too. in our bones.

"yes, but I like dad jokes."

"come here." he holds his arms out and I get up from the table, walking over to sit on his lap. he shifts so I can be more comfortable, and I place both hands on my stomach.

"I have such a food baby right now."

"do you?" he sets one hand over the bump. I lean my head into his shoulder, curling up a little. he starts to rub my tummy gently, holding me close while we sit in a relative quiet. "I like it."

"mmm." I hum, wrapping my arms around his neck. although he could easily turn this sexual, he doesn't. we just linger, breathing and letting our food settle. I really am full; the chances of me falling asleep are higher than not.

I ask Matthew to tell me more about his day as I sit there, and the rumble of his voice in his chest is soothing. as the candle wax drips further and further down, I watch it with lethargic eyes. I've had a hard year-- Matthew's made it better. he can read me like a book, and he listens like I've got all the answers in the world. I love him. and when I head to the kitchen to slice the cake, he follows me with his arms around my waist. we move like two people who have been together a long time, like we can anticipate the next person's movement down to the flicker of their eye contact, down to their step.

"I can't believe you have room for dessert." I grab a knife from the drawer, along with some plates. Matthew kisses my head.

"I've got room for multiple desserts."

"was that a sexual allusion or are you actually hungry?" I turn briefly to gauge his behavior. if he hasn't had enough to eat, I'll feel horrible. but he leans down to my ear. it still sends a shiver down my spine.

"definitely sexual," he smirks, then retreats. "let's do this, though, first. I want a piece of Rumple's eyeball."

"just get out the candles so I can do this for you." I push him away. he heads to the cupboard and returns with the pack of candles that I begin to spear into the cake. I only put in ten because there's not room for forty-one, but he doesn't seem to mind as I light them up individually.

"go sit down! you weren't even supposed to come in here." I laugh as I lift the dish into my arms and shoo him into the other room. Matthew gives me a sidelong look, smiling for an unknown reason, before following my orders.

he pretends to look surprised when I bring the thing out to him, mouth making a pleased O shape.

"wow!" he cheers.

"make a wish, then, my love." I tell him. he inhales deeply, then blows out the candles. one or two stragglers remain, their flames flickering before he tries again and snuffs them out. I clap my hands.

"happy birthday, baby!"

he grins at me and starts to pluck the candles out of the cake. "you didn't sing to me." he says.

"trust me, that was a gift in itself." I laugh before picking up the knife. "how big a slice do you want?"

Matthew seems to think for a second on this, squinting as he examines the thing.

"big."

"alright then." I cut an enormous hunk out, making sure to get one of the maddened eyeballs on it before sliding it onto the plate and giving it to him. "enjoy."

"oh, I will." before I can move to sit across from him, he reaches out and pulls me into his lap. I let out a surprised noise, but settle in anyway on his thigh while I cut my own slice of cake. we eat together.

"it's actually pretty good." I'm impressed with myself. sure, it's not a super complicated recipe. but I still did well. Matthew wraps his arm around my waist, one hand holding his plate while the other digs the fork in.

"it's amazing." he nods through a mouthful of food.

"how's the eye?"

"how you'd expect a vitreous humor to taste." he jokes, laughing as I elbow him in the ribs. "ow!" he complains. I swipe some of the frosting off the top of his slice and tap it over his nose. he wrinkles it at the sensation.

"maybe I'll just leave." I move to get up, but he keeps me in place. his little smile, so determined in its happiness, makes my heart soften. for all of his teasing, he's weak for me, and I love it. when I lean down a little to lick the icing off, he blushes.

"when can I have you?" he asks quietly, one hand resting on the top of my bare thigh. it tightens around my skin, growing more aware of my presence in his lap. I bite my lip and mull this over, subtly draw the hem of my dress up a bit just to tease him.

"I'm thinking..." this time, he lets me get up. my fingers slide through his, dragging him with me. "now."

Matthew gets an excited grin on his face before I spin around and lead him to the bedroom. a couple candles are burning, filling the room with a deep, sensual smell that he inhales as he stops in his tracks.

"did you put rose petals on our bed?" he chuckles, staring at me with his eyebrows raised in an adoring expression. I run my palms up his chest, stopping below his shoulders. I poke my tongue between my teeth as I smile.

"yes, I did."

"very romantic."

"is it?" I lift an eyebrow. it takes everything in me not to pounce on him right then.

"consider me seduced."

"if you ever use that word again, I'm calling this off." I laugh. he silences it in a kiss, eagerly gathering my body up in his arms as he tilts his head to deepen it. a slight moan slips through me, pleased with the gentle, innocent pleasure he elicits. he's softer than velvet. when he crushes the silk of my dress in his fist, lifting it over my ass so he can touch me without barriers, he groans.

"did I pay for this?" he rolls the fabric between his fingers.

"mhmm." I hum.

"good." his breath hitches when the zipper comes down easily, the garment falling to the floor and leaving me in brand new black lingerie. his eyes move hungrily over my body, pupils dilating further as he takes in the curves of my figure.

"this is new."

I twist around a bit, showing him the back as well, his grip on my waist loosening only to allow me this movement. "you like it?"

he groans. "I love it."

I want to start undressing him, greedy for the sight of his naked body, but he reaches down and lifts me into his arms, my legs wrapping around him while he carries me to the floral-covered mattress. I sink into a rosy paradise, almost give into the alluring sensations he causes with his fingertips over my skin.

he's between my legs, teeth seeking out collarbone and the swell of my chest. it would be so, so easy to remain here, pinned down and allowing him to let loose on me. every deliberate shadow on my body is like a sunburst. but I can't.

I grab his shoulders and yank him down next to me. he peers at me with a smile, wondering what I've got in store. the answer is too loaded to fit into one sentence, so I watch him move up the bed until he's resting his head on the pillow, my legs moving to straddle him.

"taking control?" he questions. he knows I don't usually like to be on top. instead of replying, I reach behind me and undo the clasps of my bra, sliding it from my arms before tossing it somewhere else. his eyes widen and he goes to grab at my tits, but I'm too quick. I lean down, unbuttoning his shirt and drawing my nails over his chest as I lower myself to his pants.

Matthew is silent, open-mouthed at the red marks I leave behind on his smooth skin. it's intoxicating for me, too, and I work quickly to tug his bottoms down his legs, the boxers with them. when his dick is released, I let him struggle through a moment of no contact.

"let me touch you." he goes to stroke himself. my gaze flickers between the length he's now gripping in his hand and the needy look on his face. I want to fuck him right now. every cell in my body aches for him, for the pleasure that so violently rips through my veins when he's inside.

"not yet." I betray myself, and his hips buck into empty air when he sees my torso so close to his erection. when I drop my head and lick up the underside, he lets go of himself and allows me to tease him. I pause at the tip, then hold the base while I spit on it.

"shit!" he grunts as I start to swirl my tongue around him. his fingers run through my hair. "suck on it, baby."

all I do is moan, the vibration torturing him. I peek up through my lashes and see the veins in his neck throbbing while he resists the urge to fuck my mouth. I soften and lower my head slowly, inch by inch swallowing his cock. he hits the back of my throat. the slight gag that runs through me makes him sigh. it's then that I tap his hand as our signal to push my head down.

Matthew loses it. he starts to shove my mouth onto him, fucking it, one hand reaching behind him to grab the top of the headboard while he groans.

"choke on it... fuck." he moans. there are tears in my eyes from the pressure, but I keep looking at him the whole time. he's gorgeous, mouth dropped open in ecstasy while he goes between rolling his eyes into the back of his head and staring with an intense desire.

every time I gag, he lets out an unholy noise and gets excited all over again, his hips moving to meet my lips until he's on the edge of falling apart. his cock twitches and I moan, but he's not willing to finish.

"get over here so I can fuck you." his voice is borderline raspy as he forces himself to release my head. I sit up and wipe the spit from my mouth, crawling on top of him again to leave some of my favorite marks on his neck. he's mine. every bite stands to prove it, and his quick breaths let me know that he's not going to wait much longer.

his fingertips hook in the waistband of my panties and he pushes them down my thighs, purses his lips while he watches me shimmy out of them. it's wonderful, seeing the disarray in his face whenever he catches sight of my naked form. he never knows where to touch first, moving over my breasts to my waist and hips down to my legs. like he's trying to blend our bodies together by simply drinking me in.

I tense when he reaches out and sinks two fingers into me. I'm so wet, it takes almost no pressure.

"fucking soaked, huh?" he smirks. my hands steady themselves on his shoulders as he starts to pump in and out of me. I groan.

"get inside, please." I murmur nearly incoherently. he starts to go faster, his cock throbbing against his stomach. but he wants me to squirm and beg.

"oh, so you've got demands?" he teases. his fingers curl in my pussy, brushing over my special spot, and I almost gasp at the pleasure. "after making me wait?"

"I just--" I start to defend myself, but it's fruitless. he guides my face down to his, whispering in my ear.

"let me guess: you just wanted me to have a good birthday?"

"yes." a choked, desperate reply.

"let me show you what kind of present I want, then." he removes his fingers and lines himself up at my entrance, pushing me all the way down before sliding the pads of his digits into my mouth. I lick them clean while I moan. his cock is so deep inside me, I can barely breathe.

the combined pressures between my hips and on my tongue, make me give up on drawing this out. it feels so good, I couldn't stop myself if I wanted to. I rise up a bit and sink onto him again, his jaw clenched at the sensation. he lets me do this a couple times and then pauses my actions.

"get on your hands and knees." he orders. I lift myself obediently, whining slightly at the loss of contact, before he sits up and switches positions so that he's kneeling behind. I wait patiently for him to do what he wants with me. he doesn't disappoint.

softly, he pushes my head down so that my cheek rests against the pillow while he slides in from the back. it's a completely different angle and I can barely handle the way he works through the tightness, his moans louder this time.

"thought you could sit on it and I would just let you?" he chuckles darkly, pulling out and moving in. my breath rattles in my chest at the repeated, delicious intrusions. my eyelids flutter shut while he keeps talking to me in that commanding, low tone. "you're my little slut."

the moan that comes from my lips is pathetic, like a mewl. he plows into me and my face presses into the mattress.

"such a perfect little pussy," his hands lure my hips to him while he groans at the new depths he keeps finding. "so responsive for me."

"faster, Matthew." I whine. although he's not going slow, I need more. the slam of his body against mine, from this angle, creates just short of enough friction for my clit. he follows my request, however, and fucks me at an insatiable pace.

"you like that?" he grunts. I literally don't have the mobility to nod, so I shove my ass back instead to take more. he bucks. "you feel so fucking good."

I whimper and he starts to stimulate my clit by reaching around, lowering himself a bit to do so. he keeps his arm pressed to my stomach so he can feel the bulge of his cock sliding in and out of me. "good girl. take it."

my fingertips fist the sheets and I whine as my orgasm approaches. he switches the pattern of pressure, finding what makes me fall apart fastest. I'm on the edge, my mouth dropping open in a silent cry. my hips start to move on their own, working against his cock as I moan his name and tumble into the abyss.

"Matthew, right there-- fuck me, fuck me--" I moan. he rams his hips so hard, the headboard slams the wall and he groans.

"you're gonna make me break you, baby." he warns. I bite my lip so hard that I almost puncture the skin, feeling like a planetary collision is occurring within my lower stomach. I'm coming up on a second climax.

"break me, then." I dare.

Matthew wraps his arm around my chest and brings me up so that I'm leaning against his chest while he whispers in my ear. "defiant little whores don't get my cum."

"but--" I complain, hips wriggling for more while he thrusts into me.

"apologize or I'll stop fucking you right now." he slows just to demonstrate the torture of not being inside me. I grasp at his hips to coax him, but he's determined. I take a shaky breath at the smooth, slow movements.

"I'm sorry." I beg. he reaches down and starts to play with my bundle of nerves again. as much as he wants to make me crash, he loves the way this feels, too.

"mmm," he hums while laying sloppy kisses along my neck. "good thing I wanna fill you up for being so sweet today."

his thrusts are uncontrolled and needy, rapid pushes between my legs that cause me to start shaking all over again. he rubs my clit and moans in my ear, spilling.

"I love you so much." he mumbles. the hand holding me to him squeezes one of my tits while I arch my spine and enjoy the slowing pace of our bodies. I moan his name.

"I love you, too." I'm in awe of how he changes for me, his attitude shifts whenever we're in bed. it's cosmic, how we fit together. and his withdrawal from my body causes both of us to collapse onto the bed with exhaustion.

I can only suck in air for a while. my limbs are like lead, in the best way.

"that was hot." he mutters. I turn to him, admiring his beautiful features, and nod lazily.

"a successful birthday, then?"

"after that cake? yeah." he scoffs jokingly and I giggle before curling into him. he traces his fingertips down my skin. "do you wanna take a shower?"

"I'm so tired." I groan. Matthew glances at me.

"I'm the one who just turned forty-one."

"shut up."

"come on, then. let's get you cleaned up."

he rises from the mattress, bringing me with him. a few stray rose petals flutter onto the ground.

#matthew gray gubler #mgg smut #mgg x reader #mgg oneshot

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moonlightlullaby · 3 years

Text

no celebrations?

summary: Corpse and reader celebrate his birthday in the most chill way. Based on this lovely request (ty again for sending it!)

pairing: corpse husband x gn! reader

category: fluff

warnings: food ingestion; alcohol ingestion; loads of physical touch (let me know if I forgot to mention anything)

A/N: Hello (: This is such a lovely concept, I just couldn’t wait to get started hehe Also, I got a bit carried away and just went with it, so I’m really sorry if that’s not what you’d pictured. I do hope you enjoy it tho <3 Take care!

word count: 2.4k

Masterlist

Walking into our shared bedroom, I catch the sight of Corpse exiting the bathroom. As our eyes lock, my lips curl up tiredly and a long sigh I didn’t even know I’ve been holding finally frees itself. He sits on the edge of our bed and extends his hand to me. When I take it, he pulls me so I stand in the space between his legs.

“How was the day?” he asks with both of his hands on my waist.

I hum, quirking a brow and tilting my head a bit “At least tomorrow - you know, the most unspecial, completely ordinary day of the year -” this earns a giggle from my boyfriend “is Sunday and I can just ignore all of that” I wave my hand in the direction of the adjacent room, where my laptop - filled with texts, assignments, spreadsheets and appointed Zoom calls - is.

At my words, Corpse wraps his arms around my figure, pulls my body even closer to him and plants a kiss on my stomach through my shirt. My hands, in turn, caress his upper back and soft hair.

Coming in contact with the string of his eyepatch in the process, I lean back slightly, which causes him to shoot up at me with a small frown and pouty lips. He sits still, though, as I carefully remove his eyepatch, and, while his eyes are still closed, I give each of his lids a peck. He smiles and tilts his head up to meet my lips in a long, tender and effortless kiss. Oh finally.

The idea of quarantining together was welcomed as a blessing by both of us. It meant more time spent together after all. However, with my school and work demands and Corpse’s irregular schedule, we still barely see each other throughout the day in spite of being a few feet apart from one another. And when bedtime rolls in, we’re both so exhausted all we can do is mumble words that could be counted in the fingers of one hand before drifting off. This, of course, when my boyfriend doesn’t stay up until dawn working. Don’t get me wrong, I’m his number 1 fan and admire his passion and all the hard work he puts in everything he sets his mind to, but I’m also not going to lie and say I don’t miss his warmth at night. Hence I want to devote this Sunday to him.

After a while, I break the silence “I’ll be right back.”

I let go of his hold and take my turn to use the bathroom. After doing my night routine, brushing my teeth and getting into my cozy pajamas, I walk back in the dark room and lie down, settling myself back in Corpse’s hug like two puzzle pieces matching together.

~~~~~

The excitement for a new day - not any day, no, but August 8th - washes over me as soon as I open my eyes and get a glimpse of the sleepy boy next to me.

A couple of minutes go by as I contemplate on getting up, torn between prolonging our cuddling for some more and doing something to show Corpse my appreciation for him. The latter wins and I, cautious not to wake him up, slowly unwrap my arms from him and step out of the bed. Drawing the curtains to make sure the summer daylight doesn’t disturb his peaceful state of mind, I make my way out of the room and to the kitchen.

Wondering what to make for breakfast, I take a good look around until my eyes catch the plethora of fruits we’ve bought a few days ago. Fruit salad it is.

Corpse has, for as long as we’ve known each other, made it very clear he isn’t too fond of his anniversary and similar celebrations - and, even if he hadn’t explained it to me, it’s rather evident how uncomfortable they make him. This year, his friends’ and especially his fans’ hype for the date - although unintentionally - has added an extra layer of unease to it all, to which I don’t intend to contribute.

Even though I don’t want to make matters worse and would never overstep his boundaries like this (because, thankfully, I’m not Betty Cooper and he isn’t Jughead Jones), I still want to celebrate Corpse. I want to celebrate his birth and his existence, which I’m immensely grateful for. He’s both the best friend I can confide in blindly and the lover I want to share my lifetime with. He sticks to his truth and dreams higher than I could ever imagine. He turns the darkness in the world and in his mind into light with his words and with his laugh. Having him in my life is one of the best things to ever happen to me and seeing him fly makes me more proud than I can put into words.

There’s a lot to toast to, so the solution is a celebration that is so smooth and so chill - the smoothest and most chill possible - that it doesn’t even feel like one. Just log off and enjoy a laid back day together.

As I chop a kiwi and make a mental list of fun and uncomplicated things we can do that don’t require much time and many skills, in walks Corpse, in an old white tee which is one too many sizes bigger than him and in his black sweatpants. He rubs his eyes and lets a raspy “good morning”.

“Mornin- wow! They really weren’t lying when they said when you hit 24, hotness knocks at your door”

He chuckles and shakes his head “No one’s said that”

“Well, then consider yourself the muse of a new proverb, baby”

He scrunches up his nose in response before grabbing the cup of orange juice I’d placed on the counter and taking a gulp.

“Thank you” he turns my face and gives me an orange-flavoured kiss, neither of us having ever really cared about morning breath.

“For calling you hot? Oh save it to when I’m done with the list of cheesy compliments I have for you” I take a grape and before I can get it in my mouth, he steals it, with wrinkles on the corner of his eyes.

“Then we’d be here for eternity!” he’s not wrong.

Corpse helps me put the fresh fruits in bowls and, with them and our juice cup in hand, we head to the balcony. Sitting next to each other, we calmly eat, take in the light blue sky and the cars and passersby changing the scenery ahead of us. Conversation flows naturally.

As we empty our bowls - after stealing many bits from each other -, I twist in my seat and face him “Hey, Corpse, do you see this?” I point to the very prominent and familiar dark circles under my eyes. “Wanna help me get rid of them?” I ask, knowing damn well it’d take a lifetime for them to actually go away and not giving up regardless.

~~~~~

The bathroom is filled with chatter and laughter and the sink, with hair clips, scrunchies, a sharpie, bowls, hair products and a towel. Corpse hisses as our cool homemade face mask comes in contact with his skin. His curly hair is pushed back and held by a blue hairband and I apply the mask to his face, making sure not to leave any spots uncovered. Well, that’s what I’m trying to do, which becomes an unnecessarily challenging task when my lovely partner can’t be still for more than two seconds.

He kept switching between dancing to Soulmate, by Mac Miller, and mouthing its lyrics. Now that I got him - after a small threat that I wouldn’t hesitate putting this weird mix we made in his pretty mouth - to keep his lips together, the (adorable, admittedly) swaying, however, continues. He stops momentarily, only to shuffle things around right after.

Something cold touches my skin, making it my turn to let out a hiss this time. The sound is accompanied by a small jump, caused by the surprise. Corpse chuckles and, when I glance at the spot on my arm the cold thing came in contact with, I realize it’s just the sharpie. All he does is give me a mischievous smile.

While I keep massaging his face and covering it with the mask, Corpse litters my body with his drawings. Smiley faces, lightning bolts, hearts, clouds... his repertoire is vast and any exposed skin he can find becomes his canvas. Each line causing me to giggle and shudder a little. With him focused on his creations, it’s 10 times easier for me to complete my task.

“Alright, my turn” he states, smiling, and I’m quick to grab the sharpie.

As he adjusts a matching hairband on my head, I put a dainty heart on his neck. And, as he takes the bowl in his hands, I swiftly plant a kiss on top of the drawing. At this, he sighs in content and my chest gets warmer.

I soon understand how hard it was for him to stay still as Stay comes on and all I want to do is have a little karaoke session and dance. Corpse entertains himself with my struggle and, because it’s his birthday, I’ll let it slide. So, to make the whole process easier, instead of focusing on the song, I focus on the gorgeous face in front of me. A beautiful face to a beautiful soul.

One of the various perks of sharing an apartment with Corpse is I get to see this face in all ways: sleepy, completely clean - no makeup, no mask -, all wrinkled in the morning, red when he’s embarrassed or when he laughs too hard… His laughter. Its sound pulls me from my trance “You’re staring, y/n”

“Well, at least I wasn’t moving around, Corpse” I reply with squinted eyes and nudge his side playfully.

We begin collecting the things scattered across the sink and storing them in the cabinet, and the song comes to an end, giving way to Dang!

“How long do we keep these on?”

I hum at the question and check the playlist on shuffle on my phone “How does 5 minutes and 2 seconds sound?”

Facing him, his grin mirrors mine and he spins me around. We laugh and allow ourselves to be as goofy as possible, jamming and moving our limbs around with a green paste on our faces.

~~~~~

After washing off the masks in the shower and painting our nails - so we’re both rocking the black nail polish look -, we’ve set our minds to - finally - finish the puzzle we started two months ago. It’s a 90’s anime setting inspired composition and we’d gotten about 40% of it done before our schedules got more hectic and the game, well, pushed aside. For weeks, the pieces sat on the ground of our living room and silently judged us every time either of us stepped to the side, as we crossed the room, in order not to crush them.

Sitting around the puzzle with comfy clothes, we team up against it and indulge in the wine Corpse’s got us and the hawaiian pizza I’ve ordered.

As the picture comes more and more to life, moments of comfortable silence and of chattery - when we talk about anything from our shopping list and gossip about our neighbours’ lives to parallel universes and the matrix - follow one another. A different playlist on shuffle is our background noise.

Time flies and the sun’s already hidden when it clicks to us that there are only 5 pieces left. Each piece is fitted in the whole with a giddier feeling than the previous. Corpse picks the last one - deep blue with purple and black specks - and turns to me with an excited smile and an eager gaze that I’m sure are mirrored on my face. I nod encouragingly. He places it in the puzzle and celebratory sounds fill the room.

Corpse stretches his arms and pulls me in a hug, but, since we’re both kneeling and because of the distance between us, we end up falling and lying on the ground in rather uncomfortable positions.

“Come on, puzzle, that was easy breezy! Gotta step up your game if you really wanna challenge this duo right here!”

“Oh for sure!” Corpse squeaks as we laugh at our nonsensical brag.

After a moment while we catch our breath, he rubs my back and speaks, pulling my attention to him “Not that I’m not loving this position, but what if we watched some Drag Race?”

Is this man real? If I couldn’t feel his heart beating under me or his arms around my figure, I’d be sure he’s just a figment of my imagination. “But it’s your b- don’t you wanna choose something you like more? Li-”

“Nope,” he boops my nose “Drag Race, or maybe Love Island, would be great right now.” And people still dare say the perfect man doesn’t exist!

“You’re such a dream!” I give him a quick peck before continuing “Ok, so I put on the show and you get more wine…?” He hums in approval and stands up. Our eyes briefly jump from each other to the puzzle and back to each other, then we simply nod. A silent agreement to leave the puzzle here. We’re both too lazy to put all the pieces back in the box and too proud of our achievement to let it go just yet; besides, everything’s been sitting here for about two months, what are a few more hours?

He steps to the side, gets our glasses and makes his way to the kitchen. I lie on the couch and scan Netflix for Drag Race. Corpse comes back, placing the glasses next to the couch, and gently lies down on top of me. He nests his head on my chest and we both hum contently.

While RuPaul announces what the winner’s prize will be, I play with his hair, letting my fingers knead his curls. His right hand flies up to meet mine and I bring our intertwined hands to my lips, peppering his knuckles with kisses. The gesture is cut by a loud laugh that escapes my lips as miss Vanjie Mateo’s iconic moment replays on the screen.

“Hey,” Corpse’s voice makes me look right back at him “I love you. You know that, right?”

My heart melts at his words and at the way he’s looking at me right now. I nod with a smile.

“I love you too, birthday boy.”

#corpse husband imagine #corpse imagine #corpse x y/n

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collisiondiscourse · 3 years

Text

BKDK - Highschool Romantics Headcanons

LOVE ME some good old fashioned highschool romance shenanigans so as per my brand, lets make it bkdk!! bc tbh i havent made a hc list in a while

its second year highschool! things have calmed down significantly and for class 1-A this means that its time to celebrate their teenage years like they werent able to before

this means more movie nights--more days they get to spend having fun and being regular kids like they shouldve always been

meanwhile bkdk? after confessions and apologies made on bloody battlefields and quiet hospitals at the dead of night... its almost comical how cheesy they are

deku sneaks up on kacchan during lunchbreaks, dragging him to the training fields where he serenades him with a guitar and laughs as a small crowd of their schoolmates whoop in glee

he sings songs of youthful love and friendship, awkward voice smoothing into something beautiful and charming

in return, katsuki learns new songs. he learns to draw and to play the drums even better--living for that shocked little smile when he draws doodles of deku and dedicates especially sappy songs to him during their monthly school jamming session

they arent together at this point, technically. no one knows what they are. no one can begin to label what they have either.

but its definitely good.

its bright and its beautiful and its loud, so theyll protect it with their eyes wide open but in the meantime class 1A just sits back and watches the twin stars of UA unravel like leaves in the cool mornings of fall

they go everywhere together, always holding hands. bakugou and deku have promise rings, little matching all might insignias glinting in the sun

they won those in an arcade somewhere. no one knows what the promise is, and no one really bothers to ask

katsuki really likes lending izuku his jackets. its nothing he says outright, just the fact that he's always ready—always one arm out of its sleeve—to bundle his sweaters and drop it into the lap of the unsuspecting nerd.

"geez, is it just me or is it really co—" *flop*

sometimes kirishima worries about his best friends allowance at the rate in which he has to replace all his jackets

they brawl in the hallways, rough house on the train station, cuddle when its cold and the common room is filled with people and light

deku often likes to surprise katsuki with little gifts. he sneaks spicy candies into the other boy's backpack between classes, slips giftcards and notes of appreciation between the pages of katsuki's textbooks

in return, as he does with everything, katsuki goes big. sometimes he surprises deku with a giant teddy bear, or soft hoodies that remind him of the other. he'll get the whole bakusquad in on it and fill the hallways in the morning with encouraging yells and loud boisterous laughter

sometimes, obviously, they'll still mess up. They're still teenagers, still human.

Deku will sometimes not say things that he should and Kacchan will sometimes say things he doesn't mean.

they'll fight and yell and unsettle the dorms with how charged the air becomes. sometimes Aizawa's worried they'll go back to ground beta and increase the hero course's already abysmal annual repair budget again like they used to do when they were stressed and repressed and each other obsessed

but then bakugou will sneak into dekus balcony at the dead of night, like some sort of delinquent trying to visit their goody two shoes lover at the risk of running into their shotgun father

(which in this case, bakugou supposes, would be uraraka--the metaphorical shotgun being a very tired todoroki)

and he'll knock on the window gently, trying not to smile as izuku opens the window and rubs the sleep from his eyes.

"ka... cchan?"

katsuki lets himself smirk at last and tells deku theyre sneaking out.

phrases it like a taboo secret, even as aizawa watches from the security footage room exasperated but also kind of relieved because of all things his class has gone through, a little midnight tryst is the least dangerous of them all. its not even close to the biggest secret deku's ever had, and by god he has plenty.

but he stifles his giggles into the palm of his hand and watches as bakugou precariously sits on the metal railing, clothes a mess and leaves still stuck in his hair

"Our little secret, okay?" Kacchan jokes, red eyes glimmering with something raw and perfect. "Don't tell your dad about me."

Izuku rolls his eyes and reminds him that All Might isn't actually his father, god Kacchan! You've met my real dad!

Yet still, he lets it pass.

And then, oh so carefully yet recklessly as if they weren't the most powerful duo of their generation, katsuki reaches out and slips deku's hands in his and takes him away

takes him to a beach (Dagobah, because of course it is) in the middle of the night, the stars brighter than theyve ever been because everything looks different when youre young and in love

they lay in the sand and listen to the waves and some weird beat thats been stuck in Izuku's head. Bakugou turns to watch his eyelashes flutter against freckled cheeks and holds out a pinky.

"I'm sorry. By the way. I didn't mean what I said and I want you to be happy."

Izuku hums and they talk it out. Eventually the other boy holds his pinky out too and they link together like pieces of a puzzle.

Under the stars, the two of them make a million promises. Promises that they know they'll break, promises that they know they won't, promises that leave them uncertain and guessing.

"—but you promise, though. Right? You promise that we'll still be by each other? Us against the world forever and ever even after this. Even when we grow old?"

Their pinkies stay linked together and the two boys know for sure that it's one of those highschool promises that they will keep forever.

Deku stares into pretty red eyes that remind him of juicy apples and warm bonfires beside friends who never run out of stories to tell

Katsuki stares back into clear green eyes that remind him of calming tea and lush grass he lays down on in the familiar heat of a summer afternoon

they just. stare. stare and stare and stare and maybe, they begin to think

maybe in those eyes, i can see our future.

and its good.

its really really good.

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ghostdrew22 · 3 years

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Déjà vu? || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: Draco Malfoy x ex!fem!reader Warnings: Idk if this is angsty or not because I initially thought it was but it feels a bit like soft sadness to me? Summary: Y/N getting deja vu as you watch Draco with his new girlfriend (H/N - her name)

WORDS : 1950

Lyrics from “Deja Vu” by Olivia Rodrigo (but I got lazy and only used certain parts)

~~~

Car rides to Malibu Strawberry ice cream, one spoon for two And tradin' jackets Laughin’ 'bout how small it looks on you (Ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha)

“Draco stop!” A voice exclaims before being followed by laughter. You know that you shouldn’t turn around, that it’ll hurt too much, but it’s been said many times that curiosity killed the cat.

He’s holding the very same ice cream order, strawberry and pistachio, and sporting that familiar warm smile that used to comfort you when you got a brain freeze from the ice cream. It had been your idea, ice cream in November, and he’d hated it at first but grew to love it just because it made you happy. That very same order that you’d made him try, strawberry and pistachio, but not for the two of you this time.

It’s difficult to know what you were expecting, something new? Different? A part of you had always known, even while you were the one in H/N’s position, that your moments with Draco would soon be documented and used for a modern remake. If your relationship had been a book, theirs is the movie adaption. If your relationship had been a song, theirs is a cover band’s rendition. Maybe, deep down, you were expecting just this- to see him treating her the same way that he’d treated you.

Those pale hands, that used to fit so comfortably in the expanse of your own, are now tucked safely in-between hers. Oceans of blue that used to run over your shivering figure every November when you made this exact Hogsmeade trip, are now tracing the lines of her face and committing them to memory. Lips, cold and slightly chapped, that were once coaxing laughter from your lungs with horrible puns and crude observations, are now completely and utterly consumed with the sole objective of entertaining her the very same way that they entertained you.

It’s a bitter sight, one would think, but you can’t bring yourself to be jealous. It’s an odd sort of feeling, deja vu, to know that once this moment belonged to you, and now you have to watch it play out in front of you. You know what’s going to happen, down to the footprints that’ll stain the path back to Hogwarts, but this time it’s not you. This time, even though you know what’s going to happen next, it’s not your laughter that’ll be filling the silence as he walks back to school.

Watching reruns of Glee Bein’ annoying, singin’ in harmony I bet she’s bragging to all her friends, saying you’re so unique, hmm

“Draco’s obsessed with this muggle show called Glee. He makes me sing along with him every time we watch it.” She says with a small laugh and a shy smile.

Why, in God’s name, did you decide to study in the library today? Sitting on the other side of the bookshelf behind you, with Millicent Bulstrode, is H/N.

“That’s horrendous.” Millicent replies with a laugh. Maybe if you’d tried harder to be friends with her then she would’ve told H/N that Draco used to do that with you too, that you’re the one who introduced him to muggle tv shows in the first place.

“It’s cute, he’s so… different.”

You swallow hard and try to pour your focus back into your books. That tone, sweet and infatuated, was the tone you used only months before when you spoke about him too. Once again you’re on the other side of the looking glass, staring back at a distorted reflection of yourself. It had been you bragging, drowning quite innocently in your adoration for him and feeling the need to sing your praises out to the world.

Way back when, you were the one forcing him to learn the lyrics to all of your favourite songs. The two of you would lose track of time singing along with the actors and complaining about the unnecessary drama, it was this little world that the two of you created. But now that world, that you built on love and trust, can no longer afford to accommodate you both. Now it’s his world with her.

Without even realising it you start to wonder how it must be when he’s with her. Does she sing off-key too? Does he pepper her with kisses after and make fun of her singing? Do they binge watch episodes or only do one at a time? Does his laugh still drown out the talking whenever something ridiculous happens? Is his favourite character still Sue?

How many pieces of your time together did he take from the puzzle, to form a new one with her?

So when you gonna tell her that we did that, too? She thinks it's special, but it's all reused That was our place, I found it first I made the jokes you tell to her when she's with you

“This alcove is where I come when I want to be alone, no one really comes here.”

No one but me, you think to yourself as you stop in the hallway and overhear Draco whispering to her. Of course he took her to your alcove, why wouldn’t he?

A part of you wishes that he’d tell her that it was you who found this spot, that it was you who’d trudged along the castle one night in a desperate search for some peace and quiet. You want her to know that this was your safe space, that you were the one who invited him there and allowed him to relish in the safety that it provided. It was you who laced your fingers together with his own and dragged him behind you until you’d landed in the spot, you who had to listen to his complaints about how small and cramped it was until he finally got comfortable and fell in love with it. You were the one he used to wrap his arms around and make promises to in the silence of the night, when nothing beside the two of you existed in that alcove.

It’s all blurring together, then and now are nothing but two sides of the same rusted coin. How can you possibly distinguish between your memories and reality when the boundaries keep crossing?

You almost want to laugh at how identical your relationship was to the one they have now. Jokes that you came up with in the sludge of sleepiness, when the two of you used to hide out here on nights when you both felt sad, are now being repeated into the very same air that you breathed only months ago. Promises that you’d both agreed to back then, are being remade in the safety of the night that now belongs to them.

“I love you.”

And

“Forever.”

Are being whispered between the two of them, assurances and pacts to be together till the end of time.

But now you wonder, how long is forever?

Do you get déjà vu when she’s with you? Do you get déjà vu? (Ah), hmm Do you get déjà vu, huh?

The smell of toast and freshly scrambled eggs wafts through the Great Hall and you struggle to resist the urge to moan out in excitement. Breakfast is your favourite meal and, really, the only meal that’s worth anything. As you plop down in your seat and start to pack your plate in your food you fail to notice, in your sheer joy, that Draco’s sitting across from you with H/N by his side.

It’s not until you’re done piling up your favourites, like an Olympic gold medalist in training, that you notice the couple sat across from you. You observe discreetly as Draco outstretches his hand all over the table to get whatever she wants to eat, and you have to struggle to focus as a wave of déjà vu washes over you.

When had you stopped being the one he arranged plates for? When had he started saving a spot beside him for her, and not you? Literally you know that the answer is roughly around 3 or 4 months ago when the two of you had broken up, but he’d stopped being yours a long time before then and you’d both known it. Little moments of love, that had been the basis of your relationship, had fizzled out into distant memories way before you’d both decided to call it quits.

“Butter or jam, Y/N?”

You’re about to answer, on instinct really, when you realise that he’s not even speaking to you.

But he said your name. Didn’t he?

Do you call her, almost say my name? ‘Cause let’s be honest, we kinda do sound the same Another actress I hate to think that I was just your type

“It was mortifying!” You exclaim as you recount the events of earlier to your best friend.

“How bad could it have possibly been?” She asks with a laugh as she settles into your bed comfortably.

“He looked her dead in the eyes, and called her ‘Y/N’, and to make it one hundred times worse, I was sitting across from them when he did it so they both immediately turned to look at me!” You cry out in embarrassment as you drop your face in a pillow. “I’ve never prayed so hard for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.” You mumble against the fabric and you hear her laugh again.

“Why are you so embarrassed? It wasn’t your mistake.”

“It’s not about that, it’s about how easy it would’ve been for us to return to our roles as boyfriend and girlfriend. I almost answered him!” You sigh. “It’s been what? 3? 4 months? And my mouth still acts on muscle memory. We’re so familiar to each other that we still act on instinct.”

“Are you sure it’s not just because your names sound so similar?” She raises her eyebrows at you and you scoff. “Really? Y/N and H/N sound nothing alike?”

“Nope, not at all.”

“Okay, if you say so.” She shrugs, “But deep down I think all three of you know that there’s more similarities present than you’d like to account for.”

You huff in response and cross your arms. Is she right? Does Draco have a type?

Even worse, are you just Draco’s type? Nothing more and nothing less than just another girl who ticks all of his favourite boxes?

I know you get déjà vu I know you get déjà vu I know you get déjà vu

It’s on one morning, on one of your good mornings, that it happens.

Months of watching the two of them recreate the love that you’d had with him, suffering in silence and scolding yourself for thinking such awful things about them, finally come to a halt when you receive the acknowledgment that you’ve been so desperately craving.

She walks onto platform 9 and 3/4 in a dress, a purple dress that looks eerily similar to the one you’d worn two years before on this exact platform. She’s smiling brightly, excited for the new school year, and Draco’s waiting for her by the door with a smile that’s just as bright. When his eyes catch her own and she slips her hand into his, he stumbles backward in shock slightly. He immediately looks away from her and searches the crowd, scanning over people climbing into the train and saying goodbye to their families, in a desperate attempt to find you.

It’s too much for him, to see her standing before him and looking like a replica of you, and he needs some sort confirmation to know that he’s not imagining this similarity. The dress wraps around her waist the same way that yours had wrapped around your own waist, and it compliments her skin in a way that’s hauntingly memorable. He knows that he’s seen all of this before, and he knows that it wasn’t with her.

You’re standing a few paces away from the door, watching the scene unfold, and when his ocean blues finally meet yours, you know.

He smiles at you, the first time he’s done so since you broke up, and mouthes exactly what the two of you need to hear.

“Déjà vu.”

And then it’s over- the moment, the agony, the months of confusion- it’s all packed up into a neat box and stored away. He turns with her and they walk into the train together, happily.

You remember this, being the one in her position and walking by his side. You remember the feeling of utter joy that had consumed you, it’s all the same really.

But maybe this time when he promises forever, he’ll mean it.

~~~

This was meant to be way angstier but I got lazy and ended up just wanting to write it out before I ran out of love for the idea.

Anyway, I kind of like it...

love you all,

jean <3

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco x oc #draco x reader #draco angst #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco fluff

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sapphire374 · 3 years

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Soy Sol: Chapter 11 (The Cut that Burrows Deep)

Wattpad Link

Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Ch.3 / Ch.4 / Ch.5 / Ch.6 / Ch.7 / Ch.8 / Ch.9 / Ch. 10 / Ch.12 / Ch.13 / Ch.14 / Ch.15 / Ch.16 / Ch.17

Ámbar feels like every step she takes, the more she can feel her heartbeat. It’s like she’s carrying it in her arms with nothing to guard it, out in the open alone. She opens the cold rusted handle of the entrance to the restaurant. There she is, her biological mom trembling while drinking a glass of water. Ámbar sums up all the courage inside her and takes the chance to approach her. When she grabs the seat in front of her, Sylvania can’t help but stare in shock. “Wow Ámbar, you truly have grown.” Ámbar may have brought all her walls down for the people she loves, but she puts them back up with this stranger.

“You can’t say that since you were never there for me. That’s no fair,” Ámbar chided. Sylvania chokes up and avoids eye contact. “Look Ámbar, I now know after everything that has happened the big mistake I made, but at the time it felt like the best option for you. I was young and didn’t have the means nor felt ready to take care of a child. I thought Sharon would’ve been a better parental figure instead of a young girl like myself. I later on regretted it and that’s something I shall have to carry with me for the rest of my life.”

Ámbar grips onto her purse trying very hard to hold back all her tears. She wonders why did this lady chose Sharon specifically and why did Sharon try to keep it a secret for so long? “I understand you were young, but I know that’s not the whole story because I have memories being in a different house that was NOT Benson Mansion. You saw me, you knew me, and didn’t like me enough to keep me,” Ámbar rebuked. Sylvania is showing tears now, she’s choking up with every word as her hand trembles just to take a sip of water. “It wasn’t like that at all Ámbar. I tried, I really did try to see if I was capable of taking care of a child. I noticed my arms weren’t so comforting for you. Sometimes when you love someone, so much, you have to let them go because you care,” Sylvania responded. Ámbar doesn’t know whether to believe what she’s saying or not. She wishes she can get out of these tornadoes of lies that always come chasing her. She’s sick of it all. She wants the truth. Is that too much to ask for?

Silence crowds the room, they’re breathing the same air but can’t even look at each other. Sylvania speaks up again. “I know this feels hard to believe but why do you think I came back? It was for that reason, I thought Sharon would be a better parent than me and would take great care of you. I realized I was sadly wrong.”

“Sharon? Of all people? What made you think that a woman who put a place on fire because she was jealous of her own sister would be a perfect parent for a child? Do you know she never showed me affection or love? I had to learn it all on my own. She only showed any signs of care when she needed me part of her plan that only benefitted her. You left me to a person who only cares about themselves,” Ámbar fumed.

“It wasn’t like that at all. I had no idea about her being the cause of the Benson fire and she had already adopted you before that even happened. When I met her, she was a kind woman, I was friends with Lili from work, so I had already knew the family. I assumed that Sharon had a good heart just like Lili, even though she was seemingly different. The whole time I would interact with her, she was always nice and seemed to really want a child because she always felt alone. It all just felt fitting.” Ámbar is trying to put together all the puzzle pieces in her head with Sylvania’s story. Part of her doesn’t believe it but…. It does kind of make sense. For her it justifies nothing even though she has hope.

Before she gets up from her seat, she leaves a wad of cash. “Ámbar where are you going? We haven’t even ordered yet?” Sylvania asks. “I’m not feeling hungry anymore, here’s some money for dinner.” Ámbar heads out the door with no remnants behind other than the tears that fall to the floor.

Jam and Roller

“Eyyy amigo I’m so happy for the release of your new music video!” Gastón exclaims to Matteo. They’re both drinking smoothies while watching the Youtube countdown from Matteo’s phone. These are the special moments Matteo loves to share with Gastón since he’s always been his pal for the longest. He also loves sharing it with Luna too, but they sadly haven’t hit it off as well for a while. Matteo is hoping Gastón’s plan will work for the upcoming days.

Simón heads to their tables with a fresh batch of popcorn. “Wow, how exciting! It’s even more special since you get to enjoy it here at the Jam and Roller with us!” Simón states. Matteo grins but it slowly fades when he sees Luna walk into the cafeteria and completely ignoring him. “What happened?” Simón asks when he sees Matteo’s vivid expression abruptly change. “No nothing, I just wish I got to share this moment with another person too.” When Simón turns his head and sees who Matteo is staring at, he realizes what Matteo meant.

Nina pulls out her purse and hands her phone to Luna. “I know you’re trying to pretend you don’t care but you do. Watch the video, it’ll get rid of all your curiosities.” Luna shakes her head in disapproval. “Nina, the least I want to do is watch a music video of the one I love flirting with a girl who has a huge crush on him as well. They’re practically soulmates, meant for each other,” Luna exaggerates. “Oh c’mon, I know it’s complicated, but you know that’s not true. If you’re not going to do it for him, then do it for yourself. You deserve to see why he arrived late to your date.” Luna glares at Nina and decides to take the phone.

Once the music video is out, everyone begins to cheer for Matteo. Luna sits even more depressed seeing at the ‘amazing’ chemistry Matteo and Viviana had in the music video. She can’t help but doubt herself even more when all the comments from his fans say they ship him with Viviana. “Nina, I’m not feeling so good. I think I’ll just head home.” Nina nods and Luna begins to get up from her chair and head out. Matteo notices and follows her out.

“Luna! Luna, wait up! I need to tell you something,” Matteo yells out. “Matteo not now, I’m not in the mood. Congratulations of your video, it was very nice. I just don’t feel so good okay.” Matteo catches up to her and stands in front. “Look Luna, I don’t know if you’ll listen to me now but please go to tomorrow’s concert I’m having. My manager is having me make a concert to promote the single, but it wouldn’t be the same without you. Please Luna. You never miss any of my concerts,” Matteo begs. Luna gradually smiles. “Really? You still want me there?”

“Of course, I do Luna.” Luna now can’t help but blush. “Matteo, of course I’ll go. Even though I’m still a little upset at you calling me jealous, standing me up on our date, and not believing or listening to me, I still care. Since you want me there, I’ll be there.” Matteo is surprised by Luna’s comment and begins to graciously smile too. It was a moment for them, they hadn’t had one like this in a long time. It felt needed.

Nico is in the rink sitting on one of the chairs, he seems to be working on something since he has his notebook open with his pen. Jim enters and sees him alone. “Hey there, what are you working on?” Jim asks. “Oh just a few verses, I’m trying to get ahead on the Roller Band song for the competition, but nothing seems to come into mind,” Nico says. Jim heads to the seat beside him. She sits down and carefully glances over his blank page. “Oh yeah you do seem to be having some trouble,” Jim chuckles. “If you’d like I can help, I’m use to writing songs with Yam.” Nico turns and faces Jim, “Yes of course. I need all the help I can get; it’s been a while for me since I got to write a song with the Roller Band.” They both laugh together and get working on the song.

Jazmín dashes to Delfi holding a small slip of paper. “You won’t believe what just happened?” Delfi carefully places her books into her locker after seeing Jazmín rush to her. “Is it something new for the Fundom or for your blog, Ja Jazmin?” Delfi predicts. “Nope, you’re very far off. Look at this,” Jazmín hands Delfi the note. The more she reads it, the more her eyes grow like a flower blooming in the season, keeps opening. She’s in plain shock as Jazmín nods from her amusement. “Right! I have a secret admirer!! I have to post about this on my blog!” Jazmín frantically grabs her phone from her pocket but right when she’s about to film, Delfi stops her. “No Jazmín, this is something special. Honestly, I think this is something you should keep for yourself, every celebrity likes to keep their personal life separate from their work life,” Delfi advises. Jazmín thinks for a second and says, “Nahhh I’ll still post it, plus this can even help us discover who the anonymous writer is!”

The Restaurant

Yam is wearing her golden shimmery dress that Jim helped her pick out. She’s very anxious about her date with Ramiro, she wants it to go out perfect since this was something she had been dreaming of for a while. He puts down the menu and slips his hand under hers to her surprise. He gives her a shy smile. “I had been dreaming of this for a while. Before, I would always try to move on, but I just couldn’t. My mind just couldn’t forget about you,” Ramiro admits. Yam begins to tear up. “I felt the same way for so long but never said anything worried you didn’t feel the same way. I’m so happy about this moment. I don’t care how long I had to wait, it was totally worth it.”

Throughout the whole night, Yam and Ramiro shared college stories and even old memories of each other. How Yam never stopped writing songs about him and how Ramiro would skate imagining about her. Everything went smooth till dessert came. A random man with a suit and tie approached their table and faces Yam. “You look familiar, are you Yamila Sanchez from that Ja Jazmin blog?” Yam stays startled and stutters, “uhhh yes why?” The man quickly pulls a card out of his pocket. “Hillside Records, I’m the owner. I would like to set up a meeting with you for a chance at a record deal.” Yam immediately glares at Ramiro for a response. He shows his approval and gestures for Yam to respond. “Yes I would love to!” Yam exclaims. “Great! I’m available tomorrow at 5 pm. There is one important detail I have to tell you,” the man says. “Yes, what is it,” Yam asks. “The record company is not in Buenos Aires. It’s in California.” He proceeds to hand her the card. “Think about it, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He leaves and Yam shows her disappointment to Ramiro, she couldn’t believe how such an exciting offer can turn to something so depressing. If she took this offer, that means she would have to leave her family, her friends, and her chance at being with Ramiro.

“Look I know this is hard to think about but just follow your heart. If this is something you truly want go for it, I can wait longer,” Ramiro grabs her hand and holds it. “I don’t know what to say. I never knew me pursuing a music career would mean I have to leave everything and everyone I love,” Yam gradually lets her tears fall onto her glittery dress.

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passivenovember · 3 years

Text

mama said to smile while I still have teeth : PART TWO

(part one)

(or) Billy gets his wisdom teeth removed and Steve understands things will not grow back in the spaces we leave for them.

Billy hops down from the passenger side like it’s written in a script or something. Part B of his master plan, logical in the journey of what happens next.

He swings the car door open and charges through wet grass. Neon green blades stick to the heel of his boot, lopsided smile drawn forward to inspect the ferns nestled on either side of a welcome mat that says Bless this Mess.

It’s as if he’s been here before.

As if he belongs.

Steve watches Billy collapse on the porch swing, arms and legs folded under him like a house of cards toppled over in the wind. He must not realize that it’s functional, or something, because Billy sits bolt upright and uses the toe of his boot to get the swing moving, once he does.

Really moving, like. Banging against the bay window his mother leaves clear for her azaleas, moving.

Billy hollers. Makes grabby hands, like, “Push me!”

“You’re gonna get sea sick.” Steve chuckles, watching Billy shrug and take it for a ride.

Billy brings the swing to a sudden halt, when. “How come you’re all the way down there?” he asks.

Catching on.

Steve watches him struggle to get his feet up on the swing. Feels his heart shudder in fondness, when Billy grins up at him triumphantly.

“Didn’t know there were other options.” Steve says.

“There aren’t. Come here.” Billy gestures to the porch when Steve’s legs decide to fizzle out. “It’s a carnival ride. You got one on your porch, at your house, and--”

Steve claims of the second cushion when Billy removes the thumb from his mouth long enough to spell it out for him. “Cuddles.” He says.

Simple.

And his eyes are so blue. Bright. Steve doesn’t have a choice because, really, they’ve swapped sides with the rope.

Up and left this dimension all together when the flea got squashed by the acrobat deciding that they could skip the apologies and get to the good part.

Steve realizes that he wants this.

Billy. Scooting impossibly closer and humming the bridge to Mama Mia. “You smell good, Stever.” Billy says around the pad of his thumb. Dripping more blood down the front of his hoodie, and. Trying to get his face in Steve’s neck.

Which should be gross, but.

Steve just clears a path. Makes room for the warm nose that sniffs a trail up and around one ear. “You said I smelled like ass,” He accuses, sounding shaky. Star struck.

Billy’s breath feels like fairy wings. “Wrong. I said you smell like sweet grass and have a sweet ass, didn’t you pay attention to my context clues?”

“Um.” There’s something warm on Steve’s throat. Going wet in the middle, parting and sucking and--

He pulls away.

Billy smiles at him. tries to get in Steve’s lap but the bench moves with him and when the bench moves with him, Steve’s got a brick wall glued to his side.

Shivering. Cold, or afraid. Nervous.

“You tired?”

Billy shakes his head. With his whole body. “Wanna hang out.”

“You can sleep for a little bit. I’ll still be there, when you--”

Billy grunts. Refuses, so. Steve rubs the side of Billy’s shoulder, instead. Fabric and muscle and heat living somewhere beneath his fingertips. “You don’t wanna go in?”

“Nope.” Billy somehow works his way under Steve’s arm.

Feels right, striking oil in the heartland.

It starts raining again. Somewhere along the way, it starts getting cold and Billy shivers, peering up at Steve like he made it happen.

Like the heavens split open and bleeding at his command.

Steve chuckles, pushing off the swing and laughing harder when Billy squawks like an angry rooster.

“Where are we going?” He demands.

“Inside.”

Billy seems to hate that, like. Instantly.

“Don’t make me carry you, Hargrove.”

“Oh, look who’s got Popeye arms all of a sudden.” Billy leans back on the porch swing, thighs spread like. He has no idea how fucking--

It doesn’t matter.

“You need to eat.”

“My stitches haven’t fallen out.”

“Yeah, and they won’t. Not for days.” Steve leans against one of the porch posts, trying not to crack a smile when Billy’s thumb finds his mouth again. “Unless you’re planning to eat your hand, we gotta get some mac and cheese--”

Billy’s off the swing before Steve realizes what’s happened. He wanders in between the ferns in their bright orange pots. Jamming a thumb at the number above the doorbell, like, “This door?”

And. “Yeah?”

“This is the one with the cheese?”

“And the mac too.” Steve winks at him, watching a warm blush spread across a sea of freckles. He cocks his head, like, “What’s up?”

“Maybe we can do inside.” Billy says harshly. “For a minute. To kiss the noodles, or something--”

“Kiss the?”

“Open the door.” Billy suggests. “Now.”

So Steve does, biting down on a smile when Billy clomps through the foyer, tracking dirt and grass and pieces of Steve’s heart across imported marble.

“This is so huge.” Billy says softly. His eyes go bright all of a sudden and he’s right in Steve’s face. “You probably have so many pillows here. And chairs. And blankets, too, like. The big ones--”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s build a fort, Stever.” Billy says desperately. He bounces a little, managing to knock more mud onto the floor beneath him. “Let’s build a house. For me and you, and the noodles if they wanna stay the night.”

Steve grins, untangling Billy’s fingers from his hair. “Yeah, I guess we could do that.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” Steve points to the ground. “Boots off first, though.”

Billy jerks away. “No.”

“Stop being a little shit for like, three seconds--”

“Stop being party pooper. For like. Your entire adulthood.” Billy shoots back, collapsing onto the staircase and holding his foot in one hand anyway.

Steve holds his breath.

Billy stares at the boot, and his foot inside the boot, like maybe the connection between them is lost.

Steve feels like an asshole for finding it adorable, but. Billy looks up at him through his eyelashes.

“I think I’m still high.” He theorizes.

“Yup.” Steve tugs his own shoes off, placing them on the rack by the door.

“I don’t think I can untangle the knots.” Billy says miserably. He tries, though, scowling like the laces have done it on purpose.

Steve watches him struggle, and laughs at the struggle, before holding out his hands. “Give me your foot.”

Billy stares at him. “Really?”

“Our only other option is to wait around until you figure it out, and who knows how long that’ll take.” Steve says, waiting for Billy to shoot back with something venomous.

He doesn’t.

He coos, instead. Like a little baby bird, pointing his toes in the air with a giggle. “I’m Cinderella and you’re the prince,” Billy declares, laughing harder when Steve drops to his knees and gets the boot off in one go. “Prince Charming, Prince--”

“You’re just saying that because I have amazing hair and you have little blonde princess curls.”

“Hey.” Billy deadpans, holding out his second foot. “It grows out of my hair like that.”

“Head.” Steve chuckles.

Billy’s mouth falls open in a silent O, brows drawn in confusion.

Steve puts both muddy boots on the rack next to his own, smiling down at Billy’s puzzled face. “Your hair grows out of your head like that.”

“It does?” Billy asks in wonder. “I like it. Do you like it?”

And. “Yeah. It’s cute.” Steve says, holding out his hand. “Come on. Lunch time.”

Billy lets Steve pull him up, swaying a little bit at their proximity.

He doesn’t pull away, and.

This close his eyes aren’t just blue, they’re green. And yellow. And brown, like a kaleidoscope.

“Am I a cute person, Stever?” Billy asks softly.

“The cutest.” Steve says. Without thinking, but.

It doesn’t seem to matter. Because Billy’s high as a fucking kite, wiggling his hips and saying, “I think you’re cuter than me. Softer. Like an opil painting, or maybe a box of raspberry macaroons.”

Steve chuckles, not even trying to pull away when Billy’s fingers try to force their way into his mouth. “When have you had macaroons?”

“I haven’t,” Billy admits easily. “But I always thought that maybe you tasted like one.”

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but. Billy’s gone after that. Running his fingers along the wall and disappearing around the corner.

“C’mon, Stever! I want cheese flavored kisses.”

And Steve.

Doesn’t think Billy will remember this.

They order pizza instead. Steve knows that Billy’s gotta be careful with his incision marks. Not go to heavy on the fat and grease less than three hours after his surgery, but.

Steve tries to hold blue eyes even as they slip through his fingers. Pools and rivers disappearing beneath the Earth.

He’s starting to think that maybe.

All it would take is bat of those stupid eyelash and Steve would throw every responsible thought out the window.

Billy says, “You got a laundry machine?” After the pizza performs its vanishing act.

And Steve says, “Yeah, why?”

Two seconds before Billy is stripping down naked.

“Woah, woah, hey--”

“There’s Kool-Aid on my hoodie.” Billy says from behind a wall of fabric. “I can’t walk around with red juice on my clothes, people will know I’m a vampire then.”

“You’re a vampire?” Steve tries to look away from Billy’s stomach.

The smooth planes of skin, soft just above a layer of muscle. He puts a hand over his eyes for good measure. Safe keeping when Billy gets the hoodie off in one go and he’s standing there.

Shirtless.

In the middle of the room like some kind of wet dream Steve never even realized he had.

Billy grins, curls sticking out in every direction. “They’d think it.”

And Steve’s brain is, fucking.

Offline. Distracted. He blinks, tearing his eyes way from Billy’s chest long enough to go, “Think what?”

“That I’m a vampire.”

And Steve thinks he couldn’t be. Too tan. Too--

Alive. Steve shrugs. “I don’t think it.”

“That’s because you don’t think.” Billy tosses the hoodie onto floor. He points at Steve, like, “Can I wear your sweater?”

And Steve looks down at himself. “This one?”

“Yeah.” Billy says. “Smells like you.”

And Steve doesn’t even have to think about it. Doesn’t even consider what it might mean, pulling the fabric over his head and handing it to an asshole who examines his Kate Bush tee shirt and says, “That one too.”

Like he’s trying to make Steve catch on fire.

Steve shakes his head. “What will I wear if you take all my clothes?”

Billy shrugs, like, “Not my problem.”

And he’s uncovering truths with those eyes. Getting a little too close to the root of it, the revelation, so.

Steve gives Billy the shirt too.

And tries not to think about the four seconds that they’re both shirtless. Standing in a room together, just. looking. Charting unmarked skin, eyes glazing silver springs on bronze soil.

Billy puts the tee shirt on, and the sweater over the top of that, until It’s just Steve.

Half naked in the living room.

“I’ll go grab another shirt, and then, um.” It feels like the walls are burning down. Steve’s thoughts fall like bullet points. “We should go outside,” He says. “Wanna go sit on the swing?”

Billy frowns. “’S cold outside.”

“Yeah, but.” Steve picks the hoodie off the ground. “I’ll keep you warm.”

Billy’s fingers don’t leave his skin. Don’t soothe, when they light trails of smoke over his collarbone.

Steve leans into the touch anyway.

Gives into the pull, anyway, when Billy grabs his cheek and brings their eyes together, looking every bit like he’s got something to say.

Something important.

“What?” Steve asks. Wanting to touch. Wanting to--

“You know my mom threw a plate at my old man,” Billy says, eyes resting on a scar they both know is there. Hidden, like gold beneath caverns of rock. “The day she left, she. Threw my Mickie Mouse at him.”

“Your plate?”

“It was a bowl.”

“I’m sure he deserved it.” Steve says easily. “I’m sure it was the only way to win.”

“There aren’t any winners with stuff like that.” Billy says gently. His eyes are watery again. Steve’s getting suspicious of it, like maybe that’s just how the world comes together for Billy. With water and sphere’s of blue.

God hovering over the surface of the deep.

Billy sighs, thumb twitching against his leg. “Neil would’ve killed her.”

And Steve hates Neil.

Knows more than be probably should. Pays attention, takes notes.

“That just means she’s resourceful, right?” Steve whispers. “Using the stuff around her to fight fair.”

“Wasn’t fair.” Billy whispers, finally looking away. Eyes studying the rain as it drips from the trees above.

“Clean, then.” Steve shifts, rocking the porch swing as he sits criss-cross with his knees pressed against Billy’s thigh. “Even fight. Clean break.”

He wonders how he can get those eyes on him again.

How he can be taken apart.

“No such thing.”

Steve doesn’t get it. “What do you mean?”

“All breaks sever the bone.”

And Steve thinks. Maybe. “Are you high?” He squints at Billy’s face, trying to see if it’s written on his forehead.

Billy smirks. “I think so.”

“Still high.” Steve says, wanting to lift his fingers. Prod at swollen cheeks. He doesn’t, when Billy’s eyes start welling up again. “Don’t cry.” Steve suggests, sliding closer. “Don’t cry, Billy--”

“I’m sorry about--”

“I know.”

“That night. It was. I never should’ve--”

“She’s your sister.” Steve says fiercely. Because. “We were trying to protect you.” And he was. At the root of it all, deep in the center of himself. Steve turns outward again, feet planted on the ground. “We didn’t want you to get roped into our shit. With the monsters, you were.”

Billy’s staring at him.

Watching. Steve can feel it, so. He closes his own eyes, just to even the score. To make it easier when his lips say, “You’re too beautiful to have your life cracked open like that.”

Billy doesn’t speak until he does, voice flickering like candle light behind a window covered in frost. “Life was already laying in pieces on the rug.”

And there are fingers in Steve’s hair. Brushing tears from his cheeks. Billy grabs him by the throat with more care, more.

Love.

Than Steve ever thought he would get in this life. Billy moves him until they’re right in each other’s space. Breathing the same air, no longer running races to escape one another.

It feels right.

Billy smiles at him. “Thank you.”

And Steve doesn’t know what for. Doesn’t care what for, but there’s a finger on his mouth, parting his lips. Billy’s eyes burn a hole in his tongue. Clear a path through muscle and bone, until Steve is pulled forward.

Into an embrace.

Into a trilogy of kisses; on the corner of his eye. On the bridge of his nose. On the bow of his lip that turns biting. And bruising.

Billy asks if he can lay on Steve’s chest, because.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” He says shyly. Billy kisses him once more and and Steve.

Goes down easy.

#harringrove #wisdom teeth #part two #I was so touched at the requests!#so here she is.#I don't know #lol #I hope you enjoy it anyway!

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grey-water-colors · 3 years

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After All This Time (Bucky Barnes X Fem!Reader) Part 3

I'm having so much fun writing this! I hope you all are enjoying this too. This chapter ended up so much longer than I thought it would be, but I'm fairly happy with it.

Summary: The real world is a scary place, even more so when you’re alone. You live alone in a apartment filed with the figurative ghosts of your memories. You’ve both changed since you last met your fiancé, but can love mend the gap after all this time.

Pairing: Bucky X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Talk of torture and death. Mentions of triggers. Cursing? Talk of PTSD and violence. If I missed anything please let me know.

Word Count: 3,299

Part 1-Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N was feeling very lucky. After some failed attempts at getting a job, she wasn’t sure how she was going to afford living. Everything was worth so much more than when she had last had to go grocery shopping.

She had decided though, that she was going to splurge on some flowers to lighten up the apartment. There was a flower shop near home that had been open when she was young all the way till she left for the war. It had been passed down through the generations and she had even been friends with the owners. A couple older than her with a little girl.

Much to her surprise, the shop was still there with the same name. Sunshine’s Flowers. Named after the original owner Sunshine. She walked inside and up to the counter where she was met with a middle aged woman.

“Hi! How can I help you?” The woman chirped.

“I was just looking for a bouquet of flowers to brighten up my dining room.”

The lady helped Y/N find a bouquet and they walked back to the counter to check out.

“And what’s your name?” The lady, who Y/N had learned was Shea, asked.

“Y/N L/N”

It was then that Shea really looked at Y/N. She stared at her for a second then lit up. “I’ll be right back.”

She walked off behind the door and after a couple minutes, then Shea returned with an older lady who looked to be in her mid 90s.

The old lady also stared at Y/N, then smiled. “I don’t know how you’ve stayed so young, but you’re just as beautiful as when you left Miss Y/N.”

Y/N stood shocked for a second, then it clicked. “Dorothy?”

The little girl had been only 10 when she had left, but time had passed.

“Oh it’s so good to see you,” Y/N turned to look at Shea. “How did you know?”

Shea smiled. “Mom keeps a picture of you two in the office. She always talked about how nice you were to her.”

Y/N smiled.

After talking for about an hour, Y/N left with two bouquets and a new job. Her next stop was the VA.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I almost thought I’d never see you again,” Sam smiled.

Y/N offered a meek smile. “I got some flowers to brighten the place up a bit, if that’s alright.”

“Thank you”

After some mild chatter, Sam asked, “What was life like for you before the war?”

Y/N froze. She hadn’t expected that kind of question. She thought back.

“It almost perfect I suppose. Business was getting back on it’s feet, the depression was over by the time I was in high school. I started dating when I was 18 and by the time I was 20 I was moving into an apartment with my boyfriend. A year after we moved in together, he proposed to me. I didn’t have a job, but I volunteered as a nurse sometimes. I mostly stayed home, we could afford it though. My fiancé worked, but he also came from a well off family,” she trailed off lost in thought.

“So you loved your fiancé?”

Y/N smiled. “I loved more than anything else in the whole world.” Her shoulders dropped. “I’d do anything to have him back.”

Sam nodded and silence filled the room.

“I know someone who would understand what you went through, I could call him down here sometime for you two to talk if you’d like.”

Y/N nodded vaguely. She didn’t know how she felt about that offer.

Sam seemed to understand. “Give it some thought,” he smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had decided to go back to the VA a week later. She didn’t mind talking to Sam, he seemed to understand in a way that others didn’t. Knew what questions to ask. Of course, that could be because he worked with two people just like her.

Y/N could hear Sam talking to someone in his office as she walked in the front door. She recognized Sam’s voice, but the other was talking so low that she couldn’t really hear it. Sam’s door was partially closed, but not quite shut, which meant she couldn’t just walk up and announce herself. She started debating whether to turn around and come back later or to wait until he was done talking with someone.

Sam had implied that there was someone she should meet, and she was terrified. New people had never really worked out well for her. She shook her head before she could think back, a tactic she had taken up while in public.

Just as she decided to come back later, Sam’s door opened. She turned around thinking it was Sam, instead it was the ghost of her memories. Her heart flew to her throat, then dropped to the floor. She desperately tried to move, to think, to do anything other than stand there and gape at the person in front of her. He seemed to be doing the same thing.

Finally, her words came to her. “James?”

He looked like her James. The same face, although now there were dark circles under his eyes, frown lines where there to used to be smile lines, and a permanent tormented look in his eye that she recognized all to well.

Sam appeared behind James and looked pleased, worried, and unsure about the whole situation. “Uh, Y/N this is Bucky. Bucky this is Y/N, but I think you both have already met.”

So it was true. This was James Barnes. The man who had proposed to her. Bought an apartment with her. Had loved her for god knows how long. Yet after everything that happened, here he was.

It felt like hours had passed before anyone moved, bet then Sam ushered both of them into the room with the beat-up sofas and she curled up into her usual spot.

Sam cleared his throat. “I get the feeling y’all need to talk alone. If either of you need me, please call. We’re the only ones here so.” Sam shrugged then eased himself out of the room leaving Bucky and Y/N together.

Y/N was still in shock. She had no idea what to say or what to do in this situation. A situation she never thought she’d be in.

They sat in an awkward silence until Bucky finally spoke. “How are you alive?”

She stiffened, straight to the point then. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Bucky looked away. “I- I mean, the Winter Soldier killed you.”

She thought back to that day. While she remembered, trigger days were a little fuzzy, like watching satellite tv while it was raining. She took a deep breath before speaking. “How much of that do you remember?”

“I remember being given an order to kill you. I remember choking you. I remember feeling your windpipe collapse, then they announced you dead.” He had said it with such determination. Fact from the fiction of his thoughts.

“Then I’ll start from the beginning and fill in the gaps. We had gone on a couple missions together,” she started tentatively. He nodded in agreement.

She took that as her cue to continue. “We had gotten close. Not necessarily romantic, but we had become a sort of friends. When it was time for me to get transferred to a different facility, I put up a fight. They called me irrational and childish, but because of my outburst, we both had to be erased. By that point though, you were no longer being controlled with your trigger words, they had already started using the brainwashing contraption to wipe your memory. It didn’t work as well though, so there were some things that you would remember. They had noticed a trend in your memory that you remembered kills, and since I had helped with a couple, they needed you to have a “closure”,” she paused trying to gauge his reaction. When he didn’t say anything, she continued.

“They had you “kill” me, without my actual death. I’m not sure where you got the crushed windpipe from, but you never know what they manipulated with. I passed out and when I recovered enough, it was time for my trigger to be placed. I went into cryo and when I woke up from that, I was in Wakanda.”

Bucky let out a sigh but didn’t look any less tense. “So, you lived, and they just played us both.”

“Essentially, yes,” she muttered. It was hard to think about her time with the Winter Soldier. Frustrating now that she had all the puzzle pieces. They had both been so close, but they had never been farther apart.

“And how exactly do you remember so much? I can’t-“ A deep breath. “I barely remember anything.”

It was hard to miss the frustration in his voice, and she understood that. “Because of the technique they used to block my memories, everything was sealed away, not erased. They never actually got rid of my memories, and yours weren’t supposed to either. When they started to fry your brain, that’s where the damage started.”

“If that’s true, then how do you know all this? How do you remember so much? How do you know so much about the Winter Soldier Project anyways?”

She flinched as his voice rose with every question. She knew how incredibly unfair it was that she remembered and he didn’t, but she also knew that if Hydra hadn’t changed hands later in the 20th century, then he would have remembered just as much as she did.

“I know as much as I do because of the Project I was part of. Project Cecilia was a precursor in every way to the Winter Soldier project. Almost everything you went through; I was the reason it worked. And as I said, your memory was never supposed to be wiped.”

Bucky sat back in his seat. He looked angry, frustrated, and betrayed. Through all of this, she felt a sliver of hurt. He didn’t bring up what they were. He didn’t even ask about her well-being. She figured he had changed, but she didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t know this man in front of her, just as much as he didn’t seem to know her. She wanted to reach out, to see if even a sliver of him was still there.

“Jam- Bucky?” He looked up at her with a weary look. “I… I umm…” She stumbled over her words trying to think of what to say. Then continued to blurt out something ridiculous. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

She ducked her head and scolded herself. Of course he didn’t want to get something to eat. He probably didn’t even really want to go anywhere with her. They were… strangers.

His reply startled her. “Sure, but I don’t know any good places to eat here in the city.”

She nodded and blurted out, “We can eat in my apartment.” She was going to need a bigger shovel for this grave she was digging. Did she really just invite him over to her apartment? Their apartment?

“You mean cook something?”

She nodded numbly, mortified beyond belief what she was getting herself into. He could always say no right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N had hoped that he would say no. He looked uncomfortable when he had agreed, and hadn’t spoken since they had said goodbye to a seemingly shocked Sam.

She wondered if he even remembered life before he was captured. It hadn’t occurred to her then that he had probably suffered some pretty bad brain damage and memory loss. Is that why he didn’t bring up the past?

While she was lost in thought, they had arrived at the place she called home. She snuck a peak at Bucky. He stared up at the building, but didn’t say anything. She couldn’t quite read him either.

They went inside and got into the ancient elevator and it shook on its way up.

She gave a sigh of relief when they got to door 9C. She felt at home when she slid the key in the lock and turned it with a gratifying click. She had almost forgotten that there was a guest behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She opened the door and walked through, holding the door for Bucky. When he got inside, he froze.

Everything was exactly the same as when he had left. A sense of déjà vu passed over him. It felt wrong to be here. Wrong to see everything, but not able to quite place why. Had he lived here? Why did everything look like it came from the 30’s? He was about to ask her when he noticed the far wall. It was bare, which was odd, as he somehow knew that there used to be something there.

Her voice cut through the silence. “You can put your jacket on the tree and sit wherever you want while I make dinner.”

He just nodded and did as she said to with his jacket. Instead of sitting he decided to take a look around the living room. He meandered over to the mantle where there was a pipe. It looked worn and used. Next to the pipe, was a picture frame that had been laid down to hide the picture. He picked it up and looked at it.

A slightly younger looking Y/N and Bucky stood in front of that very mantle smiling together. He had his arm wrapped around her and her arm around him. Then, like someone blowing dust off a old book, memories started to come forward.

Bucky remembered Y/N much more clearly now. Not everything, but more than before. This apartment had been their home for almost three years. Three years of love, happiness, and safety. He now knew how much he had loved the woman in the kitchen.

Y/N L/N, the girl who he wanted to take his last name. The light of his life. He felt stupid for forgetting. He turned to take a look around the room with new eyes. She really hadn’t changed anything at all. His eyes landed on his leather chair. Like he was on autopilot he walked towards it and sat down. The worn leather comfortable in all the right ways. The chair had been used by him for so long that it had molded to his shape.

As much as he wanted to bask in the renewed memories, this place also reminded him of the life that had been robbed from him by Hydra. All the pain and suffering they had caused through him. His mood shifted. Why was he here? To eat dinner with someone he used to know? He knew exactly what she had done. The upbringing they had both had. Politeness, charm, and hospitality, it was how things worked back then. It was her default.

The more he thought about it, the more it unsettled him. Y/N was living in the past. She hadn’t changed anything because once upon a long time ago this had been her safe place.

He wanted to know more, so he stood up and snuck into the hall that led to the bedrooms. He opened the door to the master bedroom. As he expected, nothing had changed.

Except, for something on the dresser. As got closer he saw it was her dog tags and sitting next to them on the chain was the engagement ring he had bought for her. It dawned on him then that what had been missing from the wall, were the pictures of them. There were no visual reminders of their relationship in the apartment. Why? If she was stuck in the past, wouldn’t she bask in the memories of him too? He had to know.

He walked out to the kitchen where Y/N was folding a sauce into some noodles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N jumped as she turned around and Bucky was there.

“Oh! You startled me. Dinner is almost ready if you want to set the table.” She pushed two plates with knives and forks on them across the small kitchen island. Bucky nodded and started to set the table. They both sat down to eat in silence for a couple minutes.

If she closed her eyes and pretended hard enough, she was back in 1940 and the US hadn’t joined the war yet.

She was so lost in her fantasy, she hadn’t heard Bucky clear his throat. A second, louder, noise came and her eyes snapped up to meet his.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

Her heart dropped. “Do you mean in New York?”

His gaze hardened a little. “I mean in this apartment.”

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I wasn’t a registered live person when I got back. None of my accounts were open and I had nowhere to go.”

She was bullshitting. She could have gone anywhere in the world, but she chose this place.

Bucky shook his head. “Why are you here still then. Why are you living in a museum? You can’t find comfort here. You wouldn’t be weak enough to actually let yourself believe that nothing can hurt you here. Does this place not kill you?” He was yelling by the end. His hands gripping the sides of the table, his vibranium arm leaving minuscule marks on the old wood.

By the end of his mini rant, Y/N was looking at her hands in her lap, desperately trying to keep the tears from leaving her eyes. She looked like a child being scolded by her mother.

Bucky loosened his grip on the table, his anger leaving him when he saw a crystal tear fall to her lap.

Her shoulders were shaking as she cried. Guilt piled onto his shoulders, and he did the only thing he felt he could.

He ran.

Y/N just sat at the table staring at her plate as the door slammed behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You did what!”

Both Steve and Sam were waiting for Bucky to get home. When he did, they ambushed him on how it went. Sam was excited that Bucky even went out. Steve concerned for them both. Bucky wasn’t the same person, and he suspected that she wasn’t either.

When Bucky told them what happened, Steve all but exploded.

“I yelled at her,” Bucky mumbled.

“And did she yell back at least,” Sam asked seemingly hopeful that she had tried to stand up for herself like he knew she could.

“She cried,” Bucky whispered, just loud enough for them to hear.

Steve turned to look at Bucky, “Jesus Buck. Why?”

“Steve you should see the apartment, it looks exactly the same. She acts like she did back then. She does everything but dress like it. She’s hiding in the past.”

Sam put his hand on Bucky’s arm. “That’s how some people cope with trauma. They live like they’re back in a time where they were happy. With as many triggers as she has, I would almost expect that. We can’t take away someone’s coping mechanism just because we don’t agree with it.”

“You have to go back and apologize Buck,” Steve sighed, and with that, Steve left.

Sam let out a small sigh. “She’s just as lost as you are. She told me about her fiancé before the war. I didn’t know that it was you then, but she loved you with everything in her heart, and from where I was standing during that conversation, she still loves you. You gotta give her a chance.”

“I’m not the same person Sam. She loved the old me, back when I was whole. She doesn’t want this mess now.”

“Do you know that for sure? Did you give her a chance to decide that herself, or did you make up her mind for her.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky fic #mcu #x reader #x female reader #marvel #marvel imagine #bucky barnes au #reader insert #mcu imagine #marvel universe #the avengers

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nicknellie · 3 years

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@millie-andrews-rose requested: Alex gets put with a bully on a paired project, so Willie goes with him when they work on it to help him stay calm. Willie and the boy bond over skateboarding and Alex gets jealous, causing an argument between them. The boy then apologises to Alex for being so awful. Alex and Willie make up and it ends with their first “I love you”s. (This was edited/simplified just to make it shorter.)

This is the longest oneshot I’ve ever written and I absolutely love it. I really hope I’ve done you proud, especially since this was such a great prompt! Thanks!

And It’s Not My Fault

Alex adored projects. He loved having something big to focus on, a goal to work towards, something to keep him preoccupied. Any big time-consuming task was a lot of fun for him whether it was a five-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle or work for school worth a large part of his grade. There was, however, a single word that could be placed before the ‘project’ that would instantly transform it from Alex’s dream to his worst nightmare.

The word wasn’t ‘group’ as it would be for a lot of people. Alex liked group projects almost as much as he liked solo projects. Group projects were what he did with Julie, Luke, and Reggie almost every day, jamming in the studio and working towards having a complete set list in time for an upcoming gig. Group projects were what he occasionally did with Carrie and the girls of Dirty Candi when he would assist them with some choreography. Group projects were even tolerable with people Alex didn’t know well because he knew how they were supposed to work and usually he could convince everyone to do their fair share. So group projects were fine.

The word the ruined any chance of Alex having fun was ‘paired’.

Paired projects were the worst type of project. They always spelled trouble and Alex had never got a decent grade on one in his whole school career. It never felt like his fault, but when he thought about it he was the common denominator in every nightmare paired project scenario, so he had long ago decided that there must be something about paired projects that he was simply doing wrong.

Maybe it was that he wasn’t good one-on-one. Alex had always functioned better in groups (albeit small ones that couldn’t be overwhelming) and being face to face with just one person could be stressful. It was fine if it was a friend, and more than fine if it was his boyfriend, but when alone with a stranger Alex found himself running out of things to say and having nowhere to turn when the awkward silences set in. Or if he didn’t run out of things to say he would eventually say the wrong thing and that would start an entirely new alarm bell ringing in his mind as he panicked about accidentally being offensive. Overall, conversations without his emotional support band could be frustrating at best and somewhat dangerous at worst.

Perhaps it was true that Alex was the link in all these situations, but what he had always failed to consider was the fact that he had never been paired in a project with somebody who was actually willing to try and do well, which perhaps was a more prominent reason he’d never received a decent grade.

Alex had been having a good day. He was feeling bright for no reason in particular – needlessly optimistic days like this were his favourite, even though they usually were followed by needlessly pessimistic days as all those bad feelings caught up with him at once. Still, by now Alex had learnt to clutch that senseless joy while it was there and relish it before it was gone.

The joy was gone by noon.

“Alright, class,” Ms Osbourne said, clapping her hands to gain the class’s attention.

Alex hated his English classes. While he was good at English and rather enjoyed the subject itself, his class was rowdy and unruly and made it difficult to concentrate, while Ms Osbourne was a teacher so strict that if someone so much as thought about breaking a rule she would be able to sniff it out like a dog – but her bark was worse than her bite, and while she would shout an unnatural amount she rarely doled out punishments. The combination made for a lesson that was purely people shouting and no work being done.

The class quieted to a steady hum of chatter which was usually as silent as Ms Osbourne could get it. She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and continued. “Seeing as the end of the semester is coming up, I’m going to be setting you a project that will be worth forty percent of your grade. Essentially, it’s your final exam on our study of Macbeth.”

Alex perked up a little. He had been assigned projects for a lot of classes, but English projects were always the most enjoyable – they involved a lot of writing, which most people hated, but Alex found therapeutic; the only downside was that the source material was usually dreadfully dull. Still, Alex suddenly found himself looking forward to it.

And then she had to go and ruin it.

“I will tell you your assigned partners at the end of the lesson.”

Alex felt himself deflate and heaved a sigh. It had been too good to be true. Now he was going to be stuck on some boring project with a random student from his awful English class because he had no friends in this lesson and it was going to be horrible. It was all he could do to not let his head fall onto the table and scream in furious defeat.

It was on his mind all lesson. Who he was going to be with, what specific things the project would be on, how he could get out of it. His mind was buzzing with questions, building up energy that released itself by making his leg bounce up and down. Several times he found himself tapping out a rhythm on the table like it was his drumkit, his bouncing leg acting as if it was pounding the bass drum, and he had to force himself to stop and actually pay attention to the lesson.

The end came painfully slowly. The school bell rang and most of the students were up out of their seats immediately, ready to leave.

“Hang on,” Ms Osbourne yelled. “Everyone sit back down! I need to tell you your partners for the upcoming project.”

Alex listened attentively as she reeled off a list of names. Most people let out an annoyed groan when they found out they weren’t with a friend, and there was the occasional excited, “Yay!”

Alex knew he wouldn’t be one of the ones celebrating.

“Alex Mercer,” Ms Osbourne said eventually, pushing her glasses further up her tiny nose. “Your partner is Harry Reynolds.”

“Oh god,” Alex murmured. He felt his stomach squirm just as somebody kicked the back of his chair so hard that he jolted forward and nearly whacked his face on the table. The person laughed a moment later, obnoxiously loud, begging for retaliation – Alex didn’t dare turn around to look at them.

He knew already that it was Harry Reynolds sat behind him who had kicked his chair. His project partner, and possibly the worst person in the class that it could have been. For reasons unknown to Alex, Harry had always had it out for him. In middle school he had pushed Alex down a flight of stairs and he had landed unceremoniously in a trash can – Harry had started calling him Bin Boy and the nickname had stuck for a year afterwards; Harry was the only one who used it anymore though. Since then, Harry had just been a general jerk towards him, and upon hearing that they were going to be partners, Alex’s whole body told him to run.

Run where? Alex thought. This wasn’t a problem he could run from. Besides, Harry could probably run faster.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Bin Boy,” came Harry’s voice from behind. “I’m sure we’ll have loads of fun.”

Ms Osbourne finally finished listing pairs and then announced, “These partners are non-negotiable. I will not indulge any requests to switch for any reason. Life isn’t fair, sometimes we have to work with people we don’t like. Get used to it. Now go on, you’re already late for your next class.”

Alex wasn’t usually one to ignore instructions, but as the rest of the class filed out into the hallway he remained behind. He didn’t know what he was planning to say to Ms Osbourne, but he desperately needed to find a way out of the project, or at least switch partners.

“Go on, Alex,” Ms Osbourne said, “you’re going to be late.”

He swallowed thickly and said, “Miss, I was just wondering about the proj–”

“You’re not swapping partners,” she returned sternly. “I’ve already said this. I won’t make any allowances.”

“But, Miss, I can’t work with him,” Alex protested. She raised her eyebrows and started walking around the room, putting sheets on each table for her next class. Alex followed her as she went. “He hates me! It’s going to be awful.”

“Well, maybe the two of you can use this as a way to bond and get to know each other better, hm?”

“Miss, please,” Alex said, his desperation finally rearing its ugly head in his voice. He could feel his legs shaking and his hands wringing themselves together and his head tingling in a way he couldn’t describe, and finally he broke. “He has it out for me and I don’t even know why! He’s been awful to me ever since we were kids, he tries to pick fights with me, he calls me names. Last year he chased me around the field with a baseball bat for a whole PE lesson! If I have to work with him I’ll just end up panicking – or dead, that’s also a possibility – and the project will go terribly and I’ll fail the class. Please can I just work by myself?”

Ms Osbourne’s expression softened as she look at Alex over her glasses. For a moment, Alex’s hopes were raised just that tiny bit – maybe he had got through to her, maybe she would see sense.

But then her face turned to stone again.

“No,” she spat. “What you can do is figure out with Harry when the two of you are going to work on this project and how you’re going to go about it. And you can get to your next class.” She turned away with a cold air of finality. Alex could have sworn he actually felt chills.

Without a word, Alex heaved his bag onto his shoulder and made his way out of the classroom, crushed and dejected. He stared down at his feet as he walked and tried not to think about what the next few weeks could have in store for him.

Lunch couldn’t have come sooner. After what felt like an eternity, Alex finally made his way down to the cafeteria to meet up with his friends. If there was any one thing that was guaranteed to cheer Alex up when he was in a bad mood, it was the good company of his band and his boyfriend.

The rest of the group was already sat at their usual table when Alex arrived in the cafeteria; just seeing them laughing and joking together put the tiniest hint of a smile of his face. He headed over to them, but was stopped in his tracks by somebody stood in front of him – it was Harry Reynolds.

The boy had his arms crossed over his massive chest and was leering down at Alex with an expression of disgust. Alex tried to look past him at his friends, to get their attention, to ask for help, but they hadn’t seen him. Instead, he forced himself to look up into Harry’s brutish face and try not to squirm.

“Partners, huh?” Harry grunted. “I’m failing English so you’ll need to get us a good grade.”

“That’s the plan,” Alex said, willing his voice not to shake. It wasn’t that he was too frightened or intimidated by Harry, it was just the fact that he really didn’t feel like getting chucked in a bin today. One wrong move and he could consider that a real possibility.

“Be at my place on Saturday at one. Bring all your notes – I don’t have any.”

“I can’t do Saturday,” Alex told him, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I have band practise.”

Harry took a step closer. Alex couldn’t move back – his feet were rooted to the spot. “You think I care about your dopey little band practise? You’ll be there. That’s that.”

Alex swallowed, nodded hurriedly, and finally forced himself to take a step back so that he wasn’t chest to chest with Harry. “I’ll be there,” he echoed, still nodding.

Harry snarled, condescendingly patted Alex on the head, and walked off. Alex took a moment to collect himself, to breathe, to remind himself that he was okay and he wasn’t hurt, that Harry hadn’t done anything. He steadied himself and kept walking towards his friends, trying to mask the worry on his face.

Of course, he failed miserably.

The moment Alex sat down in his usual space between Willie and Luke, Willie took his hand, watching him with concern. “Hey,” Willie said gently, “what’s up?”

Julie, Luke, and Reggie immediately stopped their conversation, turning to face Alex and Willie. Alex hated the way they were looking at him, like he’d break if they dropped him, but it wasn’t like he could ask them to stop caring – instead, he looked at each of them, trying and failing to give them a reassuring smile before he spoke.

“Nothing,” Alex said, “nothing, it’s just… just this project for English.”

Luke sighed dramatically. “Has your class got that stupid Shakespeare assignment too? I get it, bro, it’s totally pointless–”

“No,” Alex interrupted quietly. “No, that’s not it. Well, kind of. Yeah, we’ve got the Shakespeare assignment but that’s not… not the problem.”

“What is it?” Willie prompted gently when Alex didn’t continue.

Alex shrugged. “It’s stupid.”

Julie leaned over the table and grasped Alex’s other hand. “Alex, your feelings are not stupid.”

She smiled warmly. Funny things happened when Julie smiled – when she did it to Luke, it wasn’t uncommon for him to literally trip over himself; when she did it to Reggie, it made him smile in return for hours on end; and when she did it to Alex, it gave him such overwhelming confidence that for a moment or two he could truly do anything.

“It’s just that we were assigned partners and I got stuck with Harry Reynolds,” he admitted, clutching Willie and Julie’s hands tighter. “It’s nothing and I shouldn’t be worried but–”

“It’s not nothing,” Willie said. Alex couldn’t quite read his expression – it looked to be something between sympathy and outrage. “That guy is the worst. Did you talk to your teacher about it?”

Alex nodded gravely. “She wouldn’t let me switch.”

“How much did you tell her?” Willie asked.

“What I thought would have been enough,” he replied, shrugging like it was nothing. “But it wasn’t.”

“She should be fired for that,” Reggie interjected. Everyone turned to look at him. “I’m just saying – if by ‘enough’ you mean that you told her what a jerk he’s been to you then she should follow that up and treat it like an issue instead of making you work with him.”

What would have been wise words were ruined slightly by the fact that Reggie spoke them around a mouthful of pizza.

“Reggie’s right,” Julie said, “she’s definitely in the wrong here.”

“I know that,” Alex told them, because he did, that much was obvious. “But it’s a little late for that now. I’m stuck with him.”

Willie clutched his hand tighter, threaded their fingers together. Alex leaned to the side, rested his head on Willie’s shoulder. Julie let go of his hand and Willie immediately picked it up – he smiled a little at both of them.

“I know saying it’s all going to be okay won’t help,” Willie whispered to him, “but you’ve got to try and believe that it will. And if it isn’t, I am just one call away. If you need anything – I mean anything – you call me and I will be there. Okay?”

Alex’s tense muscles relaxed the tiniest bit. “Okay,” he muttered back. “That’s okay.”

Willie kissed the top of his head and a fraction of Alex’s anxiety lifted. Willie would be there when he needed him no matter what. That was something he could always count on.

Luke hadn’t been happy when Alex had called him early on Saturday morning to tell him he wouldn’t be coming to band practise that day. He had given Alex a half-hour-long earful about how they had a gig coming up in a few days’ time and they needed to be rehearsing like crazy. It hadn’t been pleasant for Alex in the slightest, but at least it had been a welcome distraction from the other thing on his mind, the reason he had had to cancel band practise in the first place.

It was the day he was supposed to go to Harry’s house to work on their project. Alex had hardly slept the night before – he had lay awake in bed for hours, tossing and turning, trying to empty his mind and relax, but sleep just wouldn’t come. At half past two he had crept downstairs and made a batch of brownies using a recipe of his grandmother’s. At the time he’d thought that maybe he could use them to placate Harry once he got to his house, but he’d accidentally ended up stress-eating the entire batch instead.

He felt sick, but couldn’t tell if it was the brownies or the anxiety. Probably an unhealthy mix of both, he decided.

But he had passed the first hurdle and he told himself to be proud of that – he had arrived outside Harry’s house. It was a small bungalow on a road that led nowhere and Alex was struck by how normal it looked. It didn’t look like the sort of place somebody like Harry Reynolds should have lived; Harry was larger than life, tall and brooding, moody and mean – this house looked as if its occupants sold flowers and rescued kittens in their spare time.

Despite the outward appearances of the house, Alex was almost certain that he was in the right place. The front window seemed to show Harry’s bedroom because through it Alex could see innumerable trophies, all for different sporting events; a large stack of magazines (Alex was sure he could already guess what each contained); and a small enclosure that looked to Alex unbearably similar to a tank that might house a snake or a spider or any other creature that Alex would have preferred stayed thousands of miles away from him where it belonged.

He could not make himself walk into the house.

He had been trying for almost fifteen minutes and had walked past the house almost thirty times. He had counted his steps and was somewhere near eight thousand. His mind was racing, shooting through a hundred anxieties before Alex had the chance to dwell on any of them – maybe that was for the best. But it didn’t help the fact that he could not force his legs to walk in the direction of the door.

The worries stopping him weren’t even big ones like ‘What if he tries to hurt me?’ which Alex stressed over every time he interacted with Harry. It was the little things and the impossible things pricking the back of his mind like needles: What if he doesn’t answer the door? What if nobody’s home? What if I’m at the wrong house? What if he’s changed his mind? What if I got the wrong day? What if I got the wrong time? What if he’s not actually my project partner? What if… What if… What if…

What if I call Willie?

Alex blessed his brain for having its first sensible thought that day. He fished his phone out his pocket and called Willie, who picked up after one ring.

“Hey,” Willie said, “what’s up, hotdog?”

“I, um… I’m at Harry’s house. I can’t go inside.”

“Why not?” Willie asked. “Is the door locked? Are they out?”

Alex shook his head although Willie couldn’t see him. “No. I don’t think so. It’s just… I… I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Willie asked patiently.

“I can’t go inside,” Alex repeated. With his free hand, he tugged at the strap of his fanny pack, fiddling with the buckle where it lay over his chest. “I can’t go up to the door. I’ve been trying for, like, twenty minutes and every time I try my head starts buzzing and my legs go numb and I’m starting to feel really sick now because I ate an entire batch of brownies meant for at least ten people and I can’t do this–”

“Okay,” Willie interrupted. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Breathe, Alex. Remember the breathing exercises we went over? Breathe in for four and out for six. Come on, hotdog, you’ve got this.”

Alex did as he said, taking great shuddering breaths of bitter air and releasing them slowly. Willie kept talking him through it, slowly, softly, kindly, and after about ten minutes Alex felt refreshed. Not necessarily worry-free, but his mind had cleared a little bit.

“Okay,” Willie said. “That was great, well done. Can you give me this guy’s address?”

Alex gave it to him.

“Luckily for you, that’s just down the road from where I am right now,” Willie said, chipper. Alex could hear the smile in his voice and it almost made him smile himself. Almost. “I’ll be there in a minute. I’ll go inside with you, if that’s what you want?”

Alex breathed a haggard, relieved sigh. “Yes. Please. If you don’t mind. Thank you, Willie.”

Willie gave a small chuckle. “Any time, hotdog. You know I’d do anything for you. I’ll see you in a minute.”

And he hung up.

Alex waited, still doing his breathing exercises, but didn’t need to wait long. Hardly five minutes later, Willie rolled up (literally – he was on his skateboard) and gave him a bright smile. Alex didn’t hesitate before lurching forward and pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you, Willie,” he whispered. “I really appreciate it.”

Willie’s response was simply to hug him tighter.

Together, hands clasped tightly between them, Willie with his board tucked under his arm, they made their way up to the bungalow’s front door. Alex swallowed, steeled himself, and then firmly knocked on the door. When nobody answered it in the first five seconds, Alex told Willie, “This is a bad idea,” and tried to turn away to leave.

However, Willie just pulled him back and a moment later the door opened. On the threshold of the house was Harry, staring down at Alex and Willie. Something about him wasn’t quite as nightmarish as it was at school, yet at the same time Alex was much more afraid. He held Willie’s hand tighter.

Harry nodded in Willie’s direction. “Who’s this, Bin Boy? You brought your boyfriend?”

“Actually, yeah,” Willie said, speaking for Alex. He was glad – his throat felt thick and he didn’t think he could have summoned up any words if he tried. “I’m Willie. I’ve heard about you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What?”

“Just a few things,” Willie said nonchalantly. “Nothing important. Anyway, I was in the neighbourhood and Alex and I are set to hang out when he’s done here anyway so I thought I’d come along. Is that alright with you?”

“It’s fine,” Harry returned with a shrug. Then his eyes landed on something and his entire expression changed. Alex didn’t think he’d ever seen Harry look like this before. Could it have been what he thought it was: excitement? “Bro! You skate?”

Willie lifted his board half-heartedly. “This isn’t just for decoration.”

Harry grinned, clapping Willie on the shoulder so hard that his hand dropped from Alex’s. “Dude, that’s sick, I do too. Come on, get inside, man.”

Harry headed back into the house and Willie followed him. Alex took a moment to wonder what the hell that had been, then took a deep breath and hurried after them. When he caught up with Willie he grabbed his hand again. Willie just smiled bemusedly up at him.

Harry led them to his bedroom and beckoned them towards his desk.

“Come look at this,” Harry said. “I had a photo taken with Tony Hawk last year!”

Alex perched himself right on the edge of the bed awkwardly as Willie went over to inspect the framed photo.

“Are you sure that’s Tony Hawk?” Willie asked. “Doesn’t look like him.”

Harry shook his head. “You’ve got to imagine he’s holding a skateboard, then you’ll see it.”

Alex watched Willie squint at the photo for a moment or two longer, then he gasped and, to Alex’s horror, began to smile. “Oh, wait… yeah, kinda. That’s awesome, dude!”

“Yeah! Anyway, how long have you been skating for?”

As Willie answered, Alex zoned out of the conversation. Ordinarily, he loved listening to Willie talk about skating – he lit up whenever he explained a new trick he’d learnt, and seeing him flush with pride after he demonstrated it perfectly to Alex always made him feel giddy – but it just wasn’t the same listening to him chat with Harry Reynolds of all people. Alex didn’t even know who that Tony Hawk guy was and it didn’t seem like anyone was about to bother explaining it to him. He would never have admitted it, but listening to Willie talk to Harry was almost annoying.

He busied himself by looking around the room, getting a glimpse at what the real Harry Reynolds was like. At school, Harry was the classic, early-2000s movie jock, on every sports team the school had to offer, constantly bragging about his luck with girls, and picking on people smaller than him (which, because Harry was built like a tree trunk, was pretty much everyone). His room reflected it too; there were even more trophies than Alex had seen through the window, most for football or, unexpectedly, karate, and the walls were plastered in posters displaying buff men and weirdly specific motivational quotes. Only now did Alex notice the skateboards stuck on the wall and the stack of helmets by his bed, as well as several skating posters directly above them.

He turned back to Willie and Harry just in time to hear Willie laugh. Properly laugh, loud and genuine. Willie only laughed like that with his friends and it hearing it in Harry’s room stirred an uneasy feeling in the pit of Alex’s stomach.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, trying to smile.

Willie waved him off. “Don’t worry, hotdog, just a skating joke.”

Harry snickered, shaking his head. “Pretty freaking funny though.”

“Oh,” Alex said. He tried for a laugh but it was the least genuine noise he had ever made – judging by the look Harry sent him, it had been obvious how fake it was to him too. Alex cleared his throat awkwardly. “Shouldn’t we get on with our work? We’re already running behind schedule.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Shut it, Bin Boy, we’re having a conversation here. You start if you want, I’ll join you whenever.”

Alex sent a look to Willie, eyes wide and pleading. Willie frowned, looking conflicted, but then shrugged.

Willie and Alex didn’t fight often, but Alex wouldn’t have minded giving Willie a piece of his mind right then and there.

He didn’t though. He sighed, shuffled back on the bed so that he could have more room and lean on the mattress, and he started working on the project. It wasn’t too difficult, just an analysis on the themes of Macbeth, something they had gone over in class a hundred times; still, Alex would have appreciated some help, seeing as this was a paired project and he didn’t exactly want to do the whole thing alone.

But it was fine. He kept telling himself that it was completely and utterly fine. But every so often Willie or Harry would laugh or suddenly shout, and the abrupt noise would startle Alex. The third time that happened he accidentally jogged his highlighter so it zigzagged all over his painstakingly neat paragraph on King James I. He gripped his pen so hard that the plastic almost cracked, and set about writing the whole thing again on a new piece of paper.

Alex didn’t know how long he had been working for, but he did know that it had been a hell of a long time and Harry still hadn’t made any effort to help him. He had copied up all his notes on the supernatural, women, ambition, and the Great Chain of Being, all the while Harry had sat there with Willie, not doing anything.

The strange thing was, Alex found himself more angry at Willie than he was at Harry.

Eventually, he checked the time, his hand aching. It was almost five o’clock, which meant he had been working alone for about four hours solidly. He had done pretty much half of the project in that time and was nearing his breaking point – he thought that if he left now he could catch the tail end of band practise and take his frustration out on his drumkit.

Gathering his notes and all his work, Alex said, “I’m going to head out.”

Willie checked the clock on Harry’s desk and then set about clipping his helmet on. “Yeah, we should get going. This was fun, though, man. It was nice to talk to a fellow skater for once.”

“I hear you, dude,” Harry returned. They fist-bumped and Alex physically cringed. “Catch you later.”

Alex didn’t say goodbye, just saw himself out. He didn’t wait for Willie. He simply walked, trying to get out of the house and as far away as possible in as little time as he could. Alex could hear Willie shouting for him to wait up but he didn’t stop.

He felt Willie grab his hand and pull him to a halt, but pulled his hand from Willie’s grasp.

“What’s up with you?” Willie asked, seeming truly bewildered. “I thought that was alright back there, it was relaxed, not stressful. Are you still feeling anxious?”

Alex didn’t answer his question and instead he said with much more venom than he had intended, “What the hell was that?”

Willie looked taken aback. Alex almost felt bad. Almost.

“What was what?”

“In there!” Alex yelled, pointing in the direction of Harry’s house. “You talking to him like you’re best friends! That guy is a jerk, you know that, Willie, so why were you laughing and joking with him as if he’s the nicest guy in the world?”

Willie didn’t look impressed. “Sorry, I was under the impression you wanted me there. I was talking to him to distract from you. That’s what you wanted, right? You were nervous about going so you wanted my help to take the pressure off you. I was helping you, Alex, because that was what you asked me to do!”

“Not like that,” Alex protested. “You weren’t supposed to bond with him, leave me out completely so that I had to do all the work by myself and listen to you two talk about skateboards and… Toby Eagle, or whoever that guy was!”

“It was Tony Hawk. And it’s not my fault that Harry likes skateboarding,” Willie shot back. “It’s also not my fault that I enjoyed talking to someone who shares that interest for once. You listen and you pretend to know what I’m talking about, but it isn’t the same.”

“It didn’t have to be him!”

“Actually, given the circumstances, it did. And like I said – it got the attention off you, so I don’t see why you’re complaining.”

Alex felt his temper rising with each sentence. He never got this upset at Willie, this was a complete first. Sure, they had argued like any couple would, but he had never felt any real anger towards his boyfriend. It frightened him, and that fright stopped him from seeing any sense, taking a step back, calming himself down.

“I didn’t want you to do it like that,” he said, as if it was obvious. It was obvious to Alex – why wasn’t it obvious to Willie?

“I can’t read your mind, Alex,” Willie shouted, pointing at himself. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head!”

“You should know!”

“I don’t! It could be anything! I don’t think you realise that when it comes to you and your anxiety, I’m pretty much flying as blind as you are. Sure, I’ve done my research and I can handle it, but I never know what’s going to trigger you and set you off like earlier today. I may seem prepared, but I don’t know what you’re thinking and I don’t know what you’re going to worry about most. It is not my fault that sometimes I might not handle it in the best way. I’m trying my hardest, Alex.”

“You aren’t the one who has to go through the panic attacks and the constant worry, are you?” Alex seethed.

Willie shrugged. “No, I’m not. But I still worry about you all the time because I don’t know what’s going to set you off.”

“It’s not my fault I have anxiety,” Alex yelled.

“I never said it was! But it’s not my fault either – I dropped everything just to come and help you today and all you’re doing is throwing it right back in my face and arguing with me for helping you out! It’s not my fault that you can’t do these easy things and that you need me to hold your hand all the time!”

Alex froze. Willie did too. The words were out there, they’d been spoken without hesitation. They hung between the two of them like a toxic cloud, as both of them slowly realised the weight those words had held.

Willie broke the silence, reaching out his hand to Alex, trying to bridge that gap between them that had widened impossibly in the last ten seconds. “Alex, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean t–”

Alex stepped back, out of reach from Willie. Willie flinched and he withdrew his hand, instead crossing his arms and rubbing circles by his elbow with his thumb. It was a nervous tick Alex only ever saw when Willie was really stressed out. Normally he would have tried to soothe him, calm him down, but all he could hear were Willie’s words echoing back and forth through his mind.

It’s not my fault that you can’t do these easy things and that you need me to hold your hand all the time!

Alex schooled his features to careful neutrality, not betraying any emotion. It wasn’t hard, seeing as he wasn’t feeling much at that moment anyway, just a cold detachment.

“I heard you,” Alex said quietly. He couldn’t look Willie in the eye. “I heard exactly what you said. I know what you meant.”

“Then you’ve got to know that I wasn’t trying to–”

“I know what you meant,” he repeated. “I’m going back to band practise. I don’t think you should come and watch today.”

He shook his head and, turning on his heel, walked away. He didn’t hear Willie’s footsteps following him this time.

Band practise had helped calm Alex down with a mixture of wrestling his drumkit and talking things out with Julie, Luke, and Reggie. They had all seemed utterly shocked that Willie would say anything like that, but Alex wasn’t so surprised. After all, things like this were what he worried about – being left alone, being disliked by the people he cared for most, being a nuisance, being abandoned. Deep down in the pit of his worst anxieties, he had been worried that something like this could have happened.

He just had never thought it would have come from Willie.

While band helped him calm down, it didn’t help cheer him up. He regretted even bringing the argument up in the first place – if he had ignored his feelings (which Julie had bluntly explained to him were jealousy) then he could have avoided the whole argument. Instead of lying in his cold bed, unable to sleep that night, he could have been curled up with Willie on the couch in the studio, warm and cosy because Willie was like a human radiator.

He knew that neither of them had been fair on each other. He could see Willie’s side of the argument once he had calmed down. But he knew that what he had said was equally valid and he couldn’t get past the scorn in Willie’s voice when he’d said those damning words.

He didn’t hear from Willie all throughout Sunday and didn’t make any moves to contact him himself either. If he did, he had no clue where he would have even begun. Perhaps an apology – but where was he supposed to take the conversation from there?

So Sunday was silent.

Alex was slightly dreading school on Monday, but he wasn’t about to ruin his high grades by not showing up, especially this close to the end of the semester. Grudgingly, he headed to school and went straight to his first lesson, which just so happened to be the lesson from Hell: English.

He arrived there before the rest of the class, including Ms Osbourne, which meant he had time to dwell on his thoughts alone. He probably wasn’t going to fail this class – despite Saturday having been a nightmare, he had managed to get a lot of good work done on the project and it would be of a very high quality when he finally got it finished. But he still had more work to do and he knew that he really ought to do it with Harry. Absently, he pondered whether or not to bring Willie next time he needed to go to Harry’s house.

Talk of the devil, Alex thought as the classroom door swung open and none other than Harry himself sauntered in. He looked at Alex sat there alone, the only other person in the room, and grunted, coming to sit beside him.

Alex didn’t have the energy to be scared of Harry Reynolds today.

“I’ve been looking for you, Mercer,” Harry said conversationally.

“Oh, joy,” Alex deadpanned. Harry looked surprised, probably because Alex wasn’t cowering in fear, but he shrugged it off.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he continued. “I just wanted to say that your boyfriend, that Willie guy, he’s really cool. I mean, the way he was talking about skating the other day – I don’t know if you realise it, man, but he has a real shot at going pro.”

“I know,” Alex spat. “He’s my boyfriend, of course I know. Maybe I don’t skate but I still listen to him. And I know him better than you do.”

Harry held up a hand. “Woah, calm down, Bin B– uh. Alex. I’m just trying to say the guy is really cool and you’re really lucky to have him. And also… talking to him the other day, he said– well, you weren’t listening, were you?”

Alex shook his head.

“We did stop talking about skating at some point, you know,” Harry told him. “Willie was telling me how awesome you are and, you know, explaining why he likes you so much. And I guess it made me realise that I’ve kind of been a jerk to you for a long time – I mean, he literally told me so. He told me to stop being such a douchebag to you.”

Alex grunted. “He’s right. You should stop. It sucks.”

Harry nodded. “I wanted to apologise for it, I guess. I’m sorry for being so nasty to you. I think it’s just because I was young and dumb and I didn’t realise it was hurting you at first, then it just stuck. I kind of always thought it was friendly too – I didn’t think you minded. I thought it was banter.”

“It wasn’t,” Alex said, meeting his eyes. “It never was. I’m terrified of you, you’ve made my life a misery. Thanks for the apology, but it’s no excuse.”

“I know that,” he admitted. “But I just wanted to explain why. I’m going to try my best to be a better guy from now on. It won’t make up for everything I’ve done in the past, but can you give me a chance to get this right?”

Alex considered. Somehow, Harry seemed completely serious. His expression was slightly pleading and he looked a little awkward and uncomfortable to be asking this of Alex, but it seemed real.

So he nodded.

“Fine. Thank you.”

Harry clapped him on the back. “No worries, dude. And, uh… this might not be my place to ask, but are you okay? You look down.”

Alex shrugged. “I had an argument with Willie after we left your place the other day. I’ve not spoken to him since.”

“Was it my fault?” Harry asked.

“Kinda,” Alex told him, shrugging again. “I just… I didn’t like how friendly you two seemed. After everything you’ve done to me in the past, watching him get along with you like it was nothing made me a little mad.”

“Sorry, bro,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m not into him or anything, so you’ve got nothing to worry about there – plus, he’s crazy about you, so even if someone else did like him they’d be out of luck. I just wanted to talk with someone about skating for once, none of my friends are into it.”

“Willie said the same thing,” Alex admitted.

Harry nodded awkwardly. “I don’t have any say in your relationship, but honestly I’m kind of invested in it now and I think you guys should talk it out. I’d hate to think I played some part if you ended up breaking up over this.”

“I don’t want to break up with him,” Alex objected, horrified. The thought of breaking up with Willie, losing him forever, made him feel sick to the stomach.

The rest of the class began filing into the classroom. Harry stood up, shrugged, and then clapped Alex on the shoulder.

“Go talk to him, then.”

Alex, for the first time in his life, took the advice Harry had given him and decided to take that first, absolutely terrifying step towards fixing the break between himself and Willie. If he knew his boyfriend (and he did) then Willie would have gone to the skatepark straight after school, so that was where Alex headed too.

Sure enough, Alex found Willie at the skatepark, sat at the top of the highest ramp. Every now and then, someone on a board would do a trick nail-bitingly close to Willie’s face, but he didn’t flinch even once. He was staring off into the peachy sunset, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Alex climbed up there and sat himself down next to him.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked uneasily.

Willie startled and turned to Alex, caught unawares. “Alex! I thought you–”

Willie didn’t get to finish his sentence because Alex pulled him into a tight, bone-crushing, fierce hug, pouring every last ounce of love and regret into it. He felt Willie hug back with equal force and buried his face into Willie’s long hair. This, he knew, was how it was supposed to be – Alex and Willie, boyfriends who care far too much about each other, not Alex and Willie, boyfriends on the edge of a break-up.

Eventually, Alex withdrew himself and let Willie go mostly, still keeping a tight clutch on his upper arms.

“I am so sorry,” he said, breathless. “I’m sorry for everything I said and for starting the argument and for everything that happened that day.”

Willie shook his head. “Don’t. I’m sorry, I should have realised how talking to Harry like that would have made you feel. It was dumb of me, and I shouldn’t have said such hurtful things to you, and–”

“I get it,” Alex said breezily, “I’m a lot to deal with.”

Desperately, Willie said, “But that’s not what I meant! I can’t explain what I was trying to say, but I wouldn’t change anything about you or our relationship for the world. You mean the everything to me, Alex, and I never want to do something to jeopardise what we have ever again. I’d do anything to take back what I said to you that day.”

Alex pulled him back into the hug, needing to be close to him. “It wasn’t just you. It was both of us. And Harry. But we’ve all apologised now, even him, so we can put this whole thing behind us.”

Willie pulled back, surprised. “He apologised?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, nodding. “Because of you. He said you were going on about how amazing I am and he realised he’d been a jerk.”

Willie blushed the tiniest bit, and playfully punched Alex’s arm. “Well, you are amazing. You’re more than amazing. You’re a miracle and I’m lucky to have you.”

Smiling, Alex cupped Willie’s cheek and gently pulled him in for a kiss. It was soft, slow, and Alex felt like they were glowing, bright and warm and happy. They kissed until every unspoken word had been said, until the last of the orange sunset had ebbed away into night-time blue, until streetlights cast an amber glow across the skatepark, in which they were the only ones left. Alex felt like he was finally at peace, with himself and with Willie.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against Willie’s. “I’m lucky to have you too. I can’t even begin to understand what good luck brought you to me.”

Willie moved back slightly, shuffled further away until he was only holding Alex’s hands, until that was the only point where they touched. Alex missed his warmth.

“Sorry,” Willie giggled, smile bright. “I wanted to be able to look you in the eyes for this.”

“For what?” Alex asked.

Willie’s smile softened. “I love you, Alex. And I’m pretty sure I always will.”

Alex’s heart stopped. It was the first time he’d ever heard those words out loud. Sure, he had felt them in every little action from Willie in all the time they’d been together – he had felt his love in the way he cared for him when he was sick, in the way he bundled himself up in Alex’s hoodies, in the way he played with Alex’s hair, in the way he brought him back from the edge when he was anxious, in the way he devoted every part of himself to Alex.

He had loved Willie in return too, in the little ways – how he listened to Willie talk about skating and watched him practise, how he brushed and braided Willie’s hair to relax them both, how he danced with Willie whenever he wanted because he simply couldn’t say no, how he wrote songs that only Willie would ever hear, how he listened to Willie talk nonsense in his sleep on those nights they slept at the studio together.

But he too had never said the words out loud.

He pulled Willie in for another kiss, brief but burning, and then held his hands again. Willie was right – this was something Alex wanted to look in his eyes for.

“I love you, too, Willie. I’ll never stop.”

131 notes · View notes

blessedboo · 4 years

Text

Need [Pipe Down #2] | Oscar Diaz.

Oscar Diaz x Reader

Summary: You were supposed to get out of your post-breakup blues, but a certain someone clouded your mind all day. You decided to do something about it.

Requested: Yes (Thank you, my loves!)

Warnings: Cursing. Angst to fluff - fluff to smut (18+ Content) and then some more fluff.

Word Count: 4.6K

A/N: The reactions to Pipe Down were incredible. Y’all are so supportive, and fucking hilarious as well. This is my first time writing smut, so I apologize if it’s not that great; feedback is always appreciated. I hope you enjoy reading this sequel, it’s dedicated to all of you. Love ya!

You and Izzy were walking arm in arm back to her car, chatting, laughing. Times like these made you feel grateful to have her in your life, someone you could always count on to be there for you and lift your spirits. Honestly, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself without your homegirl.

The laughter died down as you both sighed and continued walking in comfortable silence. You felt her eyes on you as she turned her head to face yours. She waited a few seconds before saying something, almost as if she was trying to read your thoughts.

“Alright, love. Be real with me now, are you sure you’re okay?”

You turned to face her and gave her a reassuring smile. “Of course, why?”

“You just seemed a little off back there. You’re usually downing mimosas with me by the minute, but instead you were staring off into space.” She paused for a second after saying that, abruptly stopping both of you in your tracks.

Her eyes widened as she side-eyed you, “Shiiit, you aren’t pregnant, are you?”

Your jaw dropped for a moment, shortly turning into a laugh as your head tipped back, shocked by her assumption.

“Girl, no. I do not have a baby in me. And if I did, trust me, you’d be the first one to know.”

“Well, my bad then,” she giggled.

After eventually getting in the car, Izzy thought it’d be nice to put the roof down, convertible style. Today’s light breeze and warm sun did you favors as your skin glowed and your hair flowed. You raised your arm up in the air, the brisk wind gently dancing around it as you jammed out to Brent Faiyaz, H.E.R and other R&B favorites.

You and Izzy sang simultaneously, screeching at the top of your lungs when it came to those high notes. It didn’t matter if it was good, it was a vibe.

Soon enough, the car began to approach your neighborhood. Izzy turned to you, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

“Wellll, where am I dropping you off to?”

”Where else? Home, babes,” you let out a small laugh and nudged her elbow for asking you that question.

“Mm, I know. But which one? Yours or your baby daddy’s?” She bit her lip and winked at you. “If you get what I mean ...”

Izzy knowingly wiggled her brows up and down, tongue in cheek. Your brows furrowed slightly as you shook your head at her, unsure of what she was implying.

It took you a good three seconds but Izzy knew you got the message when your eyes widened, rolling to the back of your head. She cheekily snickered at you as you did.

You gave her an unamused look and pinched the bridge of your nose, realizing she was referring to Oscar. And not just ‘Oscar,’ she referred to him as your “baby daddy”. Oh please, as if you’d ever let his fine ass him knock you up.

Would I?

You knew she was only teasing, but what she said started getting to you. It made you overthink and you didn’t like it.

“You know damn well he is not my baby daddy, nor will he ever be. We’re over, Iz - we have been for two weeks, you know that.”

She kissed her teeth and raised an eyebrow at you, dismissing your comment, or what she knew as your lies. She always saw right through you, you couldn’t fake anything with her even if you tried.

“Bitch,” she retorted with an annoyed inflection in her tone, “you can’t fool me. I put two and two together when I saw how you acted at brunch. No wonder, Spooky got you all in your feelings, and I’m sure it has something to do with whatever happened between you two this morning.”

“I-“

You were immediately cut off by her. Yeah, she definitely wasn’t done scolding you.

“You’re lucky I saved your ass from saying something stupid.”

You had a mini-flashback to the moment you and Oscar shared right before she picked you up. You remembered how vulnerable you got in his arms, ready to spill all the pain you’d been feeling. You didn’t notice you started to slouch, or the frown that appeared on your face just then. But Izzy did.

She looked away to gather her thoughts before turning back to you, lips pulled to one side as she gave you an empathetic look. She grabbed your hand and clasped her fingers over it to comfort you.

“You miss him, huh?”

You couldn’t lie to her or yourself anymore. You sighed, “I’m angry at him. I’m upset with him—“

“But ...” Izzy added.

“—But I do miss him.” You groaned as you tipped your head back into the seat. You really missed him, and that longing feeling to be close to Oscar again was eating you up inside.

Longing for him to eat me up instead.

“Told ya,” Izzy smirked triumphantly, you scowled back at her in return.

“Not now, dumb ass.”

She chuckled before continuing the drive to your block.

—

“Alright, we’re here.”

The rest of the drive was silent, so deep in your daydream that you completely shut yourself off from your surroundings.

You looked at the house she parked at, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Iz, you’re a good couple of houses away from mine. We aren’t even on the right side of the street, this is Osca-“

You blinked once.

Twice.

Thrice.

“Izzy.”

She was looking down to avoid eye contact, but still smiling ever so mischievously.

“Okay, don’t be mad, but—“

“IZ-“

“—BUT! I really think you should talk to him. You clearly aren’t over him, he probably isn’t over you. Both of you should stop being so stubborn, keep pride out of this, and have yourselves some bomb ass makeup sex.”

You whipped your head towards her, eyes bulging at the last remark.

“What? No sex? That’s cool too, that’s cool too. Maybe that’s just me then.”

You tried your best to stay annoyed at her, but you couldn’t help it. Your lips pulled into a smile as you admired your best friend. You let out a small chuckle before undoing your seat belt.

“I hate you.”

She grinned, “I know, I love you too.”

Izzy pulled you into a hug before you opened the car door and got out. You walked around, but she called out from behind as soon as you approached the lawn.

“Hey, wait!”

You spun your head around to look at her, forehead wrinkled as a questioning gesture.

“Go get ‘em, tiger!” She exclaimed as she pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth, closed her fists, and did a back-and-forth pumping gesture with both arms at her sides to signal fucking.

Cheeks turning red, you palmed your face embarrassedly, “Oh God, please stop.”

Man, you really loved her.

You waved her off as she laughed, hurriedly making your way to Oscar’s front door before anyone saw that atrocity.

Here you were again for the second time today. Damn, he got you fucked up.

All that readiness you had a minute ago washed away, now being encompassed by anxiousness and self-doubt. Great, your favorite duo of terror.

Am I being too desperate?

This is a bad idea.

No, I love him. Just do it, coward.

At last, you raised your hand to the dreaded large plank of wood you stood in front of. “It’s now or never.”

One knock. Two knocks. And a third.

He’s fucking that blonde chick.

Abort mission.

Mayday! Mayda-

“Y/N ... Back so soon?” A shirtless Oscar leaned up against the doorframe, bright-eyed and flashing that sexy smirk.

In any other instance, you’d retort with a witty remark, fire back with some sass.

But this wasn’t any other instance.

You were hurting, and you were tired. You were tired of the lonely nights, tired of these mind games, tired of bottling it all up. Oscar took notice of your silence and the blank, but sad, expression on your face. He sensed something was wrong. He knew because he felt that way too. Regretting what he said, his features softened. His eyes drooped whilst muscles relaxed as he reached his arms out to you.

There were a million reasons to turn back around and run for the hills. Could you trust him not to break your heart again? Could you guarantee that everything will work out from that point on?

The truth is, you didn’t know.

But if there was anything you did know, it’s that if you ran now, you may never get this chance again.

You were hesitant, but you stepped forward and gently placed a hand on his upper arm; a silent invite for him to embrace you. The corner of his lips curved into a small, sad smile. Neither of you had to speak to be able to empathize with each other. You felt each other’s everything.

Pain. Frustration. Happiness. And everything in between.

That was the beauty of your relationship.

He lead you inside before wrapping his strong arms around you, pulling you into a tight, but tender, hug. The warmth of his bare body engulfed your entire being. Your hands followed suit as you moved them under his arms and clasped them onto each shoulder, your face tilted to fit like a puzzle piece in the crook of his tattooed neck.

You basked in each other’s silence as the comfort washed over you. It was dead-quiet in the house, and all you could hear were Oscar’s gentle breaths as he inhaled and exhaled on the tops of your cheeks. Along with the soft thumping of his heartbeat as he relaxed into you more and more as the moment went by.

As much as you appreciated the embrace, there were still probing thoughts that lingered in the back of your mind. You had questions and you needed answers.

“Oscar?”

“Hm?”

“Couch.”

“Okay.”

Removing yourselves from each other, you made your way into his living room. You sat side-by-side, not as close as a few seconds ago, but close enough to reach out for him just in case you needed to beat his ass.

You took a deep breath in before letting out a sigh that sounded like it was hidden in the depths of your body.

“You told me you were too busy to be with me. That you needed space. That it wasn’t the best time to be in a relationship, and that we weren’t right for each other anyway. Too different.”

“I know, I-“

“But earlier you tell me you miss me. A lot, might I add. How do you think that makes me feel? That’s frustrating and confusing as fuck, Oscar!”

“Y/N, I know. I fucked up. I fucked up big time. I knew I fucked up on that first night I spent without you. I was wrong, so goddamn wrong, and I hated myself for it.”

“So then why say it? Why, Oscar? We were doing so well, and then you drop the breakup bomb out of nowhere. And if you regretted it so much, why not talk to me the day after instead of ignoring me?”

“Because—“ He paused as he looked away. His open, expressive hands closing into a fist as he rubbed his thumb against the side of his index finger. This was a habit of his whenever he was anxious, annoyed, or anything of the sort. His nostrils flared as his eyebrows knitted together, lips curving downwards into a frown. You watched his actions intently, the battle he had with himself, his internal conflict, playing out in front of your eyes.

He sighed, “because I knew you’d be better off without me - in more ways than one. I’m a liability, nena. I bring more harm than good, to you and to Cesar.”

“—And with all that shit that went down with Cuchillos, I didn’t want you standing in the middle of the crossfire. I couldn’t risk anything happening to you, so I pushed you away. So yes, I did need my space to handle my shit without you, and yes, I was too busy … too busy to give you the attention we both needed. But I never stopped loving you, I just wanted to protect you.”

Oscar’s breathing was heavy as he closed his eyes, lids tucking in tightly after the release of this built-up resentment.

My baby was protecting me, and he was hurting in the process.

Lightning struck you at the center of your heart and made it shatter into a million broken fragments. Or at least that’s what it felt like. You ached for him. You always did knowing the life he was living, but now more than ever. Your eyes welled up with tears, your head dropping down.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t fix what I did, but I pro-“

You cut him off by clasping one hand over his nape, and another on the side of his face as you pulled him into a soft, sweet kiss. You didn’t do it out of pity. You didn’t do it to shut him up. You did it to reassure him, to calm his mind, to ease his blessed heart.

Prior to the two weeks of isolation, you were Oscar’s peace, and he yours. In a time he needed it most, he lost his peace, his only form of solace.

To say you felt bad was an understatement.

Your plump lips danced against his own. It was a tango of love and war. Longing, yet laced in suffering. The kiss was slow and sensual as the two lovers rekindled the flame that never truly died out. Beneath all that tenderness, both of your lips still fought for dominance.

To claim the upper hand, he grabbed onto your waist and propped you onto his lap. With the close proximity of your rhythmically moving bodies, you inhaled deeply as the aroma of beer, cologne and cigarettes tickled your nose. The smell was intoxicating, pure bliss, and only he could pull it off.

There were other things only he could pull off, like my clothes perhaps.

You could sense Oscar’s patience quickly dissipating with each taste of your soft, moist kisses. He couldn’t get enough of them, and two weeks away from them were two weeks too long. He lolled helplessly with his eyes clenched shut, in a trance of tongue.

As the kiss got more heated, a sweet moan erupted from your throat. You were soaking up every ounce of loving he was giving you, hypnotized by the way he held you, felt you, caressed you. Oscar smiled against your lips as a result, bringing his hand up to the back of your head as his fingers tangled and intertwined with your locks to deepen his motions.

You started to feel overwhelmed—in the best way possible—but he was, quite literally, taking your breath away. You unlatched your lips from his, both of you gasping for air simultaneously. You stared into each other’s eyes that glistened with lust and adoration. From the way you two were moving, you would’ve thought you had been away from each other for months. But that only seemed to prove the immense need and want for one another.

You stared at his now swollen, red, wet lips and giggled. He joined, chuckling as he saw your own, clearly enthusiastic at what he’d done to you. As he did, he brought a thumb up to wipe over your tear-stained cheeks.

“So ... does that mean I’m forgiven?” He asked sporting a cheeky, lopsided grin.

You licked your lips as you sat up on your knees, his thigh in between your legs whilst towering over him. Mindlessly, he ran his hands up your waist and down your hips, groping your thighs here and there ever so slightly.

“Hm,” you bit your fingernail pensively. Your eyes darkened with mischief as you thought of other ways he’d be able to make it up to you. You glared at him, biting your lip, “how badly do you miss me, baby?”

He smirked at your sudden burst of sexual prowess. “Badly, mamí.”

“Mm, what are you willing to do?”

“Anything.”

“Prove it. Prove that you missed me.” You coaxed, lust and desire laced your soft spoken voice.

And that was all he needed for him to unzip your shorts at a tantalizing pace, never breaking eye contact with you as he did. Maybe you deserved a little bit of teasing for the petty ‘mission’ you pulled earlier. You shimmied out of them impatiently, and he laughed at your attempt to hurry.

“What are you in a rush for, mamas? I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you,” he reassured you as he cupped your face before placing a small, chaste kiss on your lips.

You sighed, nodding your head. Your body relaxed as you lowered yourself onto his lap again.

“You’re right. Do your thing, my love.”

He pecked your cheek, your nose, the corner of your mouth and peppered light kisses along your jawline. You loved how romantic he was before devouring you or fucking you senseless - such a deliciously dynamic man.

He lifted your chin up to tilt your head back, giving him more access to the soft skin of your neck. Needless to say, you weren’t expecting his lips to brush up against the sensitive area below your ear as he licked you with a long, single swipe of his tongue.

Goodbye, Mr. Romantic and hello, Daddy.

He nipped and sucked, and nipped and sucked. Hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing all around your neck and down to your collarbone as one hand was wrapped gently, yet firmly, around your throat, right under your chin to hold it up. Your breaths were shaky, light moans rolled off your lips naturally, and a very apparent pool formed in your black lace panties.

Oscar unwrapped the knot of your top, letting the sleeves fall down your arms. His fingers slid on your smooth skin as he took it off completely.

“Damn, baby,” he whispered as he wishfully gazed at your breasts, passion shadowing over him. You placed your hands on his chest, nails lightly scratching the bare skin as you dragged them down. His lips parted in response, his excited heartbeats could be felt under your fingertips. From the heavy breathing to the glossy beads of sweat that glistened on his tanned skin, the atmosphere of the room got dense - air heavy, sexual tension thick.

With an expert flick of his fingers, your bra was on the floor in a matter of seconds. Oscar’s big hands were on your waist and back, ensuring there was no way to escape. Not that you wanted to be anywhere else anyway.

He wasted no time latching onto your right nipple, cupping your plump assets as he groped and squeezed teasingly. His tongue danced fluently over the swell of your breast, evoking a porn-worthy moan that reverberated against the four walls of the small room. The wet sensation combined with the tantalizingly sensual circular motions were heavenly.

“Oh God,” you whimpered breathlessly. Though, it would be best if you kept God out of your sexual endeavours.

Oscar didn’t forget about your left nipple as he alternated between pinching, tugging and rolling it in between his index and thumb. He brought his hand to his mouth, licking his two digits and then continuing his actions.

How considerate of him, you thought. He wanted to give both of your eager breasts the same type of attention, cute.

As you ground your hips against his thigh, subtly getting off from the pressure hitting your core, he felt the moistness that started to coat the thin fabric and your inner thighs. Your nipple left the warmth of his mouth and was now encompassed by the cool air. You shivered at the new sensation, instantly missing the feel of his lips as you pouted.

Smirking, he looked down, catching you in the act of your mini joyride.

“Naughty.”

You giggled, “Maybe a little.”

He hummed amusingly before gently pushing your chest backwards so that you could lay down flat on the couch. He crawled to hover over you, letting out a groan as he bit his lip and took in your current state. The woman he cherished was sprawled half-naked on the couch, swollen breasts rising up and down, looking up at him with big love-hazed eyes and plump pouty lips as you waited for him to please you.

In his eyes, it was the most angelic sight. You loved the way he looked at you as if you were the center of his universe. You smiled at him, following with a wink.

His face inched closer to yours as he gave you a sweet kiss before planting many of them on a trail from your neck, to the valley in between your breasts, and finally to the awaited destination.

He looked up at you through his gorgeous, long lashes. He kept that hungry glare pointed on you as he hooked his fingers into your waistband, dragging them down swiftly. Your stomach fluttered in anticipation. If it was even possible, your arousal got more wet at the thought of his mouth on your pussy. You wanted him so bad, it was painful.

“Please,” you pleaded. “I need you.”

That breathy whimper set him off. He didn't bother teasing the surrounding area as usual. He was starving, and he was gon’ feast like his life depended on it.

As he lowered himself, the cold metal of his cross grazed your lips. You jumped at the stinging chill, a sensation that amplified tenfold due to the already aching area.

He ran two fingers up and down your soaking slit, spreading the two lips, then rubbing them closer together, and repeating. As his fingers occasionally brushed along your swollen clit, your thighs would involuntarily clench at the sensitivity. He followed your body’s requests by rubbing the bud in gentle circles, applying just enough pressure to stimulate you. He would press down on it every now and then, which would really get you going.

At this point, you were already a whimpering mess for him and he loved it.

“You want more, nena?”

Unable to comprehend any words, you simply nodded. Now tugging and rolling at your throbbing bundle of nerves, “No no, I want you to tell me. Let me hear that voice.”

“Yes,” you whispered, “… M-more,” was all you managed to get out in a broken moan.

Oscar gripped your thighs as he dropped his head down to your core. You were immediately met with a long lick that flattened against your entrance, from bottom to top. You gasped at the moist feeling of his velvet tongue combined with the warm breaths that lingered on your skin.

He spread your legs wider and pushed your thighs back, allowing more access for him to hit all the right spots. His lips smothered your pussy with sloppy, deep kisses.

He was french-kissing the fuck out of your core, and your endless cries only encouraged him to keep going.

His tongue curled up to flick your clit rapidly before easing your pleasure with soft circular motions. Not wanting to lose his rhythm, he closed in on your pearl, sucking on it tenderly as his fingers wandered in between your folds.

“Oh Daddy… Fuck yeah,” you hissed.

“Mm, you like that?” He groaned.

“Yes! Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” were only some of the obscenities that rolled off your tongue.

Well, his tongue was doing most of the rolling.

Your pussy was throbbing, aching for release. Breathless, you propped yourself up on one arm to get a glimpse of the action. Your fluids flowed out of you - it was ‘The Y/N River’ down there. They coated your walls, Oscar’s beard and definitely drenched the couch material under you.

But he didn’t mind one bit. In fact, it drove him wild. He lapped up your juices in quick, yet deliberate, movements of his tongue.

Feeling him do it was pleasurable enough, but watching his determination play out on your sex was a whole new level of sexy, and eventually brought you closer to release. Your back arched, your hips bucked and you were a moaning disaster.

“Fuck! Fuuuck! Baby … I- … Ah, shit! … I’m g-gonna come. Just like that, yes. Yes!”

Your orgasm was bubbling at the pit of your stomach. You were so close.

“Fuck. Come. Come for me, mamí.”

His mouth attacked your pussy greedily, fingers doing quick work of rubbing your folds in ‘figure eights’. He used two of his digits to spread your folds as he tongue-fucked you. One of your hands held onto the back of his scalp, while the nails of the other dug into his broad shoulder so deeply you were scared to puncture skin.

Him egging you on and praising you nonstop was the last straw. He grumbled against your soaked core as your thighs clenched together. His name left your lips in a cry, over and over.

Like a chant, or more so a prayer.

You shook and shuddered uncontrollably during your throes of passion, your back landing onto the couch from the euphoric exhaustion. Your head tipped back in ecstasy as he cupped your core gently, hushing you into a state of ease.

Your breaths became less heavy as seconds passed by. You sighed before slightly turning your head upwards, only to catch your man staring at you intently. A big ol’ cheesy grin plastered on his gorgeous face.

“Beautiful,” he hummed.

You shook your head, laughing at his cuteness.

When your legs somewhat regained their strength, you sat up and clung onto his torso. The both of you laid back upright on the couch. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder to bring you closer. Placing a hand on his chest, the beats of his heart drummed for you.

You smiled, and as if you communicated telepathically, you both looked at each other like lovestruck puppies.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Oscar.”

“Pase lo que pase?”

“Pase lo que pase.”

You cupped his cheek as your two lips connected. A sweet kiss to seal the deal.

“So what are we going to do about this?” He asked, gesturing towards the obvious tent in his pants. You rolled your eyes, not being able to resist a small laugh. “You always have to ruin the mood, hm?”

“What? I’ve got needs too, Y/N.”

“Nuh-uh, I’m not letting you get off that easy. You’ve gotta work for it.” If looks could kill; he death-stared you down as his brows knitted together. “Eating you out ain’t enough?”

“Oh baby, no. That makes up for at least a week's worth. Cook me breakfast tomorrow, and you’ll be on the right path.”

He squinted at you unamusedly, along with slightly flared nostrils and lips pulled a straight line. “Seriously?”

“Very serious,” you raised your brow at him, sporting a cheeky smirk.

He groaned while running a palm over his face, an eye roll on display right after. “Fine. So spoilt.”

“Keep that attitude up, boy. I’ll have you sleeping on the couch too.”

He scoffed as his forehead wrinkled in disbelief. He bit down on his bottom lip as he shook his head at you. It wasn’t long before he was towering over you, grabbing you by the waist and lifting you over his shoulder - ass out, facing skyward.

You gasped before squealing as you smacked your hands against his back.

“What are you doing?! Let me down!”

“Nah. I make you come, and all of a sudden you’re bossing me around in my own house,” he retorted while sending a nice slap against your ass. “Must be out yo’ damn mind.”

Your bickering continued all the way into the bedroom. It was an evening of love and laughter, and there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

____________________________________________

Spanish translations - [Correct me if I’m wrong]

Pase lo que pase - No matter what / Whatever happens

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