#But I feel like themes are drifting farther away from the book | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lizzy-williams · 4 years ago

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𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐭

🍎Warnings: dark!peter parker, manipulation, innocent!reader, smut, triggering themes, oral (male receiving), HOLY FUCK THIS IS WRONG. But holy hell... is it erotic 😏

🍎Read at your own risk!!! You’ve been warned, don’t wanna see it then don’t read it.

🍎Masterlist

🍎A/N: I am kinda in love with the dark!peter genre of fanfic, so behold the first of many 🙃 THE READER IS IN COLLEGE

“Professor?”

The voice was soft, but with an empty classroom, it was heard by the only one left in the room after his last period, his eyes averting his paper that he was grading.

As her eyes met his from the doorway as she made a soft smile, her bag slung over her shoulder as she held a few books in her hand, her demeanor calm and gentle.

“Miss [l/n], what might I be able to help you with,” the young professor spoke, a genuine smile crossing his face, setting his red grading pen down on his oak desk.

The girl peeked her head past the doorframe, hoping that the classroom was truly cleared out. She was shy, and if there was even one person, she would mutter out a ‘never mind’ and go back to her dorm and settle for the evening. But luckily the room was desolate besides the one person she truly wanted to see.

But Peter was more excited to see her than he should have been. [y/n] was his favorite student, and after things fell out with MJ, he was actually quite lonely. But [y/n]... she was perfect for him. She was brilliant, stunning, but most of all she was innocent.

In the smarts department she was a genius. But when it came to everything and anything to with adult life and culture, she was naive. And a teacher was always up for teaching the inexperienced by any means.

“P-Professor, I was just wondering if you could help me with this paper. I just wanted you to proof read and tell me what I can do to improve it,” she went on, slowly walking towards Mr. Parker’s desk.

“Yes, I guess, I need a break from grading anyways,” he acted thoughtful, even though grading papers was the last thing that he wanted to do.

“Thank you,” she gave a small smile, taking a seat in front of his desk.

But what made his breath hitch made him want to shove everything off the desk and take her right there.

As she bent down to unzip her backpack and get her folder holding said assignment, Peter could see right down her shirt, her breasts on full display, the white bra she was wearing being exposed.

I wonder what color her panties are, so fucking pure, I wonder what noises she’ll make when I-

“Mr. Parker?” [y/n] spoke, visibly concerned, snapping him out of his lust-induced funk he was in, making him blink.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, “please, why don’t you read it to me?” He suggested, resting his chin on his knuckles, his full attention on her.

“Oh, um, okay, yeah of course,” she laughed nervously, glancing down at her almost masterpiece.

But as she began to read the words in front of her, Peter was focused on something else more... distracting.

Even though only she torso could be seen over the top of his desk, his gaze trailed up and down her body, practically undressing her with his eyes, taking in every part of her, from the way her breasts looked against her sweater, or the way her hair perfectly fit her face, but most of all her lips.

He couldn’t help but think the most sinful things about them. What it would be like to kiss them, what they would look like wrapped around his cock or sucking on his fingers, or what they would look like if he came all over them.

He watched them as they moved, pronouncing each word with ease, the words she was speaking being practically unheard as she went on. And he didn’t miss the skirt that she was wearing when she walked in, perfect and white, something that just screamed “virgin”.

Time seemed to fly by as his thoughts drifted to sinful things, thinking about taking her on every surface in his classroom. On his desk, against the wall, even on top of the desk she sat at everyday in the front of the room.

“So,” she began to speak, Peter snapping into the real world again, “how was that? I think paragraph two was a little strange sounding, but does everything else sound okay?”

She was like an anxious puppy, emotionally vulnerable to criticism. But she was willing to take help if it would make her paper better. But that was in the back of the professor’s mind.

“It sounds amazing, you’re a really good writer, [y/n].”

This was the first time that the professor had used her first name, usually addressing her formally. It was strange to her, making her shift in her seat.

“I’ll tell you what. I have a special course,” he began, and of course, [y/n] always eager to learn, she perked up, “it a special one-on-one course. I save it for the smartest in each class.”

[y/n] was now completely focused on what he was going to say next, not knowing that this was the thing that would take a toll on her life as she knew it.

“That means you get a good grade on your paper there and even extra credit. It’s a little interactive, if you’re okay with that.”

[y/n] nodded hesitantly, Peter giving a smile that was hard to read, but the red flag went over her head, thinking that it was just another one of his friendly grins.

“Well, Miss [y/n], if you’ll take a seat at your normal desk, we can get started.”

She stood, making her way to her usual desk, taking a seat, Peter giving a shake of his head.

“No, no, take a seat on top of the desk, if you will,”

Without a word, she shifted, propping herself up on the flat surface, her hands folded in her lap, her legs swinging as her ankles crossed.

The position made Peter eager to get this going.

“Alright. Now, I’m going to do something, and I need you to understand that this is for a completely educational purpose, okay?”

[y/n] nodded, letting out a gentle “uh-huh,” before Peter got closer, a comforting expression visible on his face.

He nudged her thighs apart with his hands, treating her as if she might shatter. When he was finally positioned right where he wanted to be, he placed a hand on the small of her back, pressing her against him, her breath hitching, trying to keep the whimper she wanted to let out in her throat.

“I’m going to do something else now, then we can start the lesson,”

And without a response, he leaned in, his face going into the crook of her neck, laying a soft kiss. But one kiss turned into three, and soon the kissing turned into licking and nipping, the whimper now finding its way out of her mouth.

Meanwhile, Peter was in heaven. Her skin was as soft as it looked, her scent smelling like peaches and cider, and he loved the way her neck felt under the mercy of his mouth.

“Your doing wonderful, [y/n],” he muttering into her skin, the vibration making her arms wrap around him, similar to a hug.

He continued, and just before he stopped, me stuck out his tongue and licked a strip up her throat and up to her earlobe, before mumbling, “I think you’re ready to start the lesson now...”

Before she could respond, he pulled back, beginning to speak again, her arms loosening from his torso.

“Now this is a lesson that most people learn in college, but they never learn it the right way,” he began, her anxious gaze meeting his calm and collected one, “what I’m going to give you is a gift. An opportunity not many girls your age get.”

“W-What class is this for...?” [y/n] muttered nervously, “I don’t know if I want this-,”

Peter’s eyes darkened, not liking the sudden disobedience. And she was doing so good...

“You want the extra credit right? Would hate to see what it would do to your perfect grade if you missed out on an opportunity like this,” his voice was dark as he looked into her wide and frightened eyes, “don’t you want a good grade?”

[y/n] nodded, hating to think that there was ever a chance she would get a less then satisfactory grade in her favorite class.

“Good girl,” his voice softened, his hand running up and down soothingly as she began to lose tension, “I just want what’s best for you. You are my favorite student after all.”

[y/n] whispered a small ‘thank you’ but her breath hitched as she felt his hand drift farther up her thigh, up and under her skirt. With a small whimper, he touched her covered clit, making her jump.

She had never even touched herself there, the only thing close being when she would drive over a steep hill and she felt a strange feeling in her gut.

“What are you doing?” She anxiously whispered, Peter shushing her.

“Shh, this is the first lesson. Repeat after me. Pleasure is key.”

She silently repeated. She had never really had a class about something close to this accept for the sex talk they gave whatever many years ago in high school.

She felt so dirty. But what he was doing felt so good.

His actions progressed, pulling her panties to the side, his index and pointer fingers drifting across her folds. She whimpered, her nails latching onto his shoulders, her forehead now resting on his shoulder as she tried to wrap her head around what she was feeling.

“Look at you, your so wet... virgins get wet so easily...,” he growled, finding her clit quickly, making her grasp tighter onto him.

She felt as if she was in a movie. A dirty movie that her friends would sometimes put on. And every time, [y/n] would close her eyes during the sex scenes. But now it was like she was in one.

“I need you to slip off your skirt and your panties, alright? It’s time for another part of the lesson.”

Her nod was full of reluctance, but she did as she was told, her body betraying her mind. Peter watched as her clit was exposed, and absolutely hairless.

He felt like a kid on Christmas. All that time waiting, and finally seeing his gift. And it was just what he had asked for.

“I’m going to slip off your shirt and your bra now. This part requires you to be completely nude,” he said sternly.

Before she would absorb his words, her arms were pulled up, her sweater slipping off, her bra not too soon after. And unlike any other boy would, Peter removed it with ease with no trouble at all.

He stepped away, looking at his favorite student. Her hair was ruffled, her clit swollen as she stayed with her thighs spread, her breasts looking more perfect in person then he ever thought they would.

So many nights had he stroked his cock to the thought of her. The thought of what her body would look like. What sounds she would make. And most of all what she would look like on her knees.

“Absolutely stunning. Get on your knees, princess,” he pointed in front of him.

“Why?”

As soon as it left her mouth she wanted to stuff the word back in, the look in her professor’s eyes making her stomach tense.

“Get. On. Your. Knees.” He gritted, “I won’t ask again.”

She then scrambled to the ground, on her knees and looked up at him, her eyes pleading for forgiveness.

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb rubbing against her bottom lip, her doe eyes attached to his wandering ones.

“Pleasure is key, remember? And because you don’t have a partner, you’ll be mine. Now the first part is with your mouth. I’ll show you how to do it to me. And then I will do it to you, understand?”

“Mhm.” She nodded, his hands reaching for his belt, unbuckling it slowly, her eyes glued to his hands.

As soon as he pulled both his pants and boxers down, stepping out of them, [y/n] was transfixed at the sight of such a falic part of the male body.

She had never seen one up close and in person before. It was flushed pink and twitching as if it had its own heartbeat.

“Take it in one of your hands,” and she did as he said, “now cup my balls princess,”

The instructions were easy enough. But it was hard to do. For her at least.

The contact to his cock and the sight of his favorite girl on her knees for him was enough to get him to cum on the spot. But he would rather cum down her throat.

“Open your mouth, [y/n].” He instructed, and she did as he demanded, tears almost forming, “now stick your tongue out,”

She looked so perfect like this. He was ready to make this angel a little less holy. To teach her that this was only something he could give her.

“So good for me,” he weaved his hand through the back of her head and in her hair, pulling her in closer, “put it in your mouth, princess, I’ll do the rest, yeah?”

She couldn’t help but lick it first before putting the tip in her mouth, her tongue swirling around it, hoping that she was doing a good job.

But she was suddenly jerked foreword, his cock going into her mouth, his tip poking at the mouth while she gagged. Tears welled up in her eyes, making Peter reach for her hand, holding it as he pulled back out, before sliding right back in roughly. Soon he set a steady pace, the girl below him desperately trying to steady her breaths.

Tears streamed down her face, her mascara ruined, her lips swollen, her hands holding onto his thighs to anchor him. She whimpered and whined against him, wanting to stop but the vibrations from her protest only spurred him on, fucking her face, his perfect little toy.

This was everything he had imagined and more.

“Such a good girl, just like that, you’re doing amazing - fuck -,”

A few more thrusts and he was right on the edge, his hand gripping on her hair tighter and his pace faster.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum down your throat, princess, just keep going-,”

When the warm liquid finally oozed out, she began to cough in her desperation for air. He pulled out, grabbing her jaw as he came on her face as she coughed up his cum, sobbing as she gasped for air.

And even though she was almost choked to death by her teacher’s cock, she still managed to let out a rough whimper: “Did I do good?”

“Yes, [y/n], you did absolutely amazing.” He panted, his face flushed, “I think you’ve learned enough for today, we’ll pick this back up tomorrow.” He sighed, grabbing his pants and slipping them back on and the girl scrambled to find her clothes.

Soon enough she was fully dressed, grabbing her bag. But she was soon pulled back by her arm, now facing Mr. Parker.

“Remember, [y/n], this club is only for my best students. Nobody else can know, or else they’ll all want to join. We can’t have that...,” he said quietly, giving a sweet kiss to her forehead as she closed her eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Parker...,” she muttered, hugging him gently, “thank you for the opportunity.”

“Of course. You are my favorite student after all.”

#dark!peter #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker #dark!professor!peter #dark!peter x reader

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vennilavee · 3 years ago

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sunkissed

pairing: levi x reader (moon/stars universe) ft kaiya and rina

summary: rina peach's beachy birthday weekend!!

warnings: none at all, just a cute summer drabble

word count: 1810

Kaiya has never been very fond of the beach. She is very much like Levi in that sense- they both would prefer to either stay home or go to the park rather than allow the potential for sand to hide in the crevices of their bodies. After all, seagulls are a nuisance and it’s not like you can even see animals other than those pesky birds.

At least according to Kaiya’s speech about why she did not want to go to the beach last weekend. But it was Rina’s birthday, and unlike her older sister…. Rina loves the beach. She loves poking her feet in her sand and feeling the salty ocean water brush over her chubby legs. Her specialty is building sandcastles and she had sneakily asked if she could bury her daddy in the sand.

To which you had said maybe. And Levi had sent you a sneaky glare.

You can vividly remember the first time you brought baby Kaiya to the beach. She’d been a year old, after you and Levi had done extensive research on what sunscreen would be best for Kaiya. She looked so cute that day, in a bright orange bucket hat with blue starfish on it, a blue swimsuit and tiny orange crocs.

It took you nearly fifteen minutes to get out of the house, because you were too busy showering her with kisses and taking photos of her first beach day.

While she had been all smiles on the way to the beach, her expression had quickly turned sour when you had tried putting her feet in the water. Her lips parted ever so slightly to let out a stream of wails and her eyes leaked tears. She was trying her best to avoid her feet touching the water with all of her tiny might.

Kaiya hated the sand even more, if that was possible. She glared at the sand stuck in between her toes and Levi had only looked smugly at you. As if to say ‘I told you so’.

And he had.

But today, Rina is tugging Kaiya’s hand impatiently, wanting to splash around in the water with her big sister. Kaiya is hesitant, warily eyeing the water and looking at Levi and then Rina.

“Oh, fine,” Kaiya sighs, “Only for five minutes.”

“Yay!” Rina cheers and does a little dance before running off towards the water (with Kaiya and Levi on her heels).

You can’t help but watch Levi’s golden skin glisten in the sun as he gets farther away from you. His shoulders flex as he jogs after his girls, and you sigh happily before rubbing sunscreen on your arms.

You had rubbed sunscreen into Rina’s skin while Kaiya had insisted on doing it herself. Levi had wordlessly asked you to rub his back, which you had gladly done.

But not before squeezing his bicep indulgently, because damn, your man looks good.

You brought a book with you to read (and Kaiya had as well. She had stated firmly that she plans to read on the beach during this weekend trip.)

Your gaze travels from your book to immediately zero in on the girls and Levi from the tops of your sunglasses. Rina’s giggles are contagious and filter through the salty breeze, tucking away in your eardrum and you can pretty much hear Kaiya grumbling from all the way out here.

Setting your book aside, you decide to join your family in the water. You adjust your baby blue swimsuit, making sure all of your bits are covered, and make your way over. Your jumbo sized umbrella, beach towels and cooler are close enough that you can keep an eye on it from the water.

“Mama! You come,” Rina beams, reaching for you from Levi’s arms.

“I did, peach,” you reply, scooping her up. She’s getting so big, she’s already four. Rina is no longer the small baby who used to waddle around the house clumsily, she’s now old enough to run through the water and splash her older sister.

Levi pecks your lips in greeting while Kaiya dramatically gags.

“On Rina’s birthday weekend? Ugh, gross,” Kaiya rolls her eyes. Levi splashes her playfully with his foot and Kaiya gasps.

“Wow, watch out, daddy.”

“Ya, daddy, watch out! Watch out!”

“Oh, alright. I surrender,” Levi says, holding his hands up.

“It’s nice out here, isn’t it?” you murmur, nudging Kaiya’s shoulder. She tries to scowl, but she can’t hide her smile from you.

“Yeah, it’s nice. I guess.”

“Oh, you guess? How lucky for us,” Levi teases, ruffling her head of dark hair.

“Daddy! I did my hair and you’re making it messy!” Kaiya pouts, messing her hair up again.

“It not messy!” Rina protests, “It nice!”

Kaiya gives her a toothy smile in response, to which Rina mimics.

“Mama, can we have some drinks? You brought those peach ones, right?” Kaiya asks with hopeful eyes.

“Of course I did. You think I’d forget?”

You and Levi had taken extra measures to hide the cake that you both had baked for Rina’s birthday in the mini-fridge of the cottage that you were staying in for the weekend. In fact, it was Kuchel’s little cottage by the sea- Levi came here as a teenager and a young adult. And you can remember the first time he brought you here, too.

Kuchel will be arriving tomorrow to join the celebration, but tonight it was just your little family.

“Kiki,” you whisper from the corner of the kitchen, “Kaiya. Kaiya!”

“Yes, mama?” she whispers back.

“Will you please get Rina and your daddy and bring them outside to the deck? The cake is ready,” you reply and Kaiya nods, running off to find her sister and her dad.

The small deck has been decorated with shell themed balloons and streamers of gold and green (Rina’s current favorite colors) in the last two hours, while she was napping and while Levi had kept her entertained before that. You can hear her peals of laughter approaching closer and closer and you make sure to have your phone ready when she sees the setup you and Levi created for her-

And she gasps with wide eyes before squealing happily and running around the table decorated with teal lace to stare at the carefully curated mermaid themed cake that took hours for you to finish up.

“Mermaid! For my birfday, mommy?” Rina gasps, bouncing on the heels of her feet.

“Happy birthday, Peachy,” you beam at her and kneel for her to run into your arms for a big hug.

“Thank, mama,” Rina says, “Daddy, Kaiya! Wook cake! Come hug!”

She’s always been very affectionate. Levi says she gets it from you.

“Happy birthday, Rina Peach,” Levi murmurs, kissing her hair, “I’m so happy that you’re happy and healthy.”

Rina only looks at him with your eyes.

“Happy birthday, Peachy peach,” Kaiya says, jumping with her, “We gotta sing Happy Birthday! And then you blow out your candles and make a wish!”

“Make wish! Make wish!” Rina says excitedly, her dark hair shining with the sunset. Kaiya leads the charge in Rina’s birthday songs while Rina smiles brightly at you and Levi. It brings a few tears to your eyes and Levi tugs your fingers in his subtly.

Your girls are getting so big. Levi still remembers when Rina barely fit in the palm of his hands, when she came into the world so quietly. When fear filled his heart.

Seeing Rina blowing out her candles (with some help from Kaiya) makes his heart warm. Kaiya is getting so tall- he can tell she might be taller than him someday soon. Kaiya’s eyes glisten and shine, reflecting bits of his own steel grey when she looks at him.

He’s feeling contemplative. You can tell.

Once you finish with your pictures of everyone, Levi cuts slices of cake for everyone to eat. Rina most definitely stuck her fingers into her slice of cake but now, she is seated in his lap as she tries to feed herself (but ultimately leans back against his chest for him to feed her). Kaiya sits in between you and Levi.

It’s quiet, the sound of the waves against the shore vibrating around you as the close of Rina’s birthday draws close. The summer breeze drifts into your hair and you spot goosebumps on Kaiya’s arms.

“Gonna get some blankets, my little fruits. Be right back,” you murmur, patting her leg.

“Hey! I’m not a fruit!”

By now, the moon is shining brightly in the night sky and the stars along with it, and Rina is fast asleep in Levi’s lap while Kaiya is laying across your lap with tired eyes. You’ve all moved inside the cottage once the summer chill settled in to watch a movie.

Rest assured, you’re dozing off, too.

You hear Levi call your name. You hum in response and open your eyes blearily. It appears you’ve been asleep for longer than expected, because Kaiya is no longer in your lap and Rina is not in Levi’s arms.

“I put the girls to bed,” Levi murmurs, “C’mon. Let’s get to bed.”

“You gonna carry me or what?” you joke, but before you can get your feet on the floor, he scoops you up in his arms and pecks your forehead.

“How romantic,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Yeah, alright,” Levi rolls his eyes.

“Did you check the locks?”

“What do you take me for? An idiot?”

“I’m just making sure, okay-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmur, patting his cheek adoringly, “Hurry, I’m tired and my feet ache.”

“How lucky for me.”

“The girls had fun today,” you murmur, rubbing lazy circles over Levi’s chest, “Did you?”

Levi hums, fingers trailing up and down your arm tiredly. “I like the sea, despite what you think.”

“You don’t like the beach. You hate finding sand in your-”

“Yeah, I hate the beach, but the sea is nice.”

You chuckle, pressing your lips to his throat.

“I’m surprised Peach went to bed so quickly. But she must be tired from running around in the sun with Kaiya all day,” Levi muses.

“Probably. Your mom can run around with Rina and Kaiya tomorrow at the beach. We should do boozy brunch in the meantime.”

“Why? So you can get drunk off your ass from two mimosas while your daughters are in the ocean?”

“Okay, first of all, that was a joke. Second of all, two mimosas? You think that much of me?”

“Am I wrong?”

“I’m going to sleep,” you huff dramatically, “Give me a kiss goodnight.”

Levi gives you a little more than a kiss goodnight when he pecks your lips, licking into your wet, warm mouth until your eyes flutter shut and he presses himself on top of you to envelop you in his embrace.

tags: @simpingmaize @kentobean @captainchrisstan @alrightberries @celestidarling @regalillegal @castellandiangelo @bakuhoesworld

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman #levi fluff #levi ackerman fluff

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lokislittlesigyn · 3 years ago

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Eyes Wide Open - Loki Fanfiction [Oneshot]

Pairing: None. This is just Loki’s POV!

Warnings: Themes of depression/suicide. No happy ending. No fluff.

Author’s Note: This has been something I’ve wanted to write for a while.. I enjoy writing from Loki’s POV, and delving into his interpretations of things is endlessly interesting to me. Also, darling Cozy wrote an angst piece on this same time period of MCU Loki’s life, so.. Blame her for inspiring me to finish this. <3

we will return to fluff later this week. until then. PAIN

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

When Loki fell, he didn’t look down.

He closed his eyes.

The first time Loki fell, Frigga caught him. He was young then. The brightness of youth still shining in his blue-green eyes, Loki climbed to the top of a tree in the royal gardens.

“Watch me, brother!” Loki begged, grasping the branches and hoisting himself up. If he climbed high enough, maybe Thor would see him.

But Thor didn’t notice. Loki needed to climb higher. Then Thor would see.

Loki raised himself to a shaky stand. The upper branches weren’t too far. He could reach them, he was sure of it. Pursing his lips, he reached for the next branch and tugged himself up. Up, toward the top of the small tree, until he laid over a branch, grinning to himself.

“See, brother? See how tall I am now?”

Thor didn’t respond, instead whacking away at troublesome weeds with his new sword.

Loki groaned. Pushed himself upright and slid down the branch, toward the end - the next-highest branch was within reach. Below him, the branch trembled. Just a bit farther-

The branch snapped.

Loki yelped, closing his eyes, feeling the leaves and small branches of the tree scratch his skin. He tensed, bracing himself for the fall - or, rather, the landing.

But no harsh landing came.

“Oh! Careful!” It was his mother’s voice.

Loki slowly opened his eyes.

Frigga was holding him, her breath choppy. “Loki, what ever were you doing?”

“I-I..” Tears silenced him. Loki grabbed fistfuls of his mother’s dress and hair, hiding against her. Breathing in her light, floral scent, the same scent he fell asleep to as an infant. She felt familiar. She felt safe.

The next time Loki fell, it was Thor who caught him.

By then Loki had grown, though lankiness clung to his limbs, and gauntness to his face. Now his eyes were full of promise - and mischief. He had an awkward build, and a crooked smile, and nowhere near the same strength as his brother. But he had magic, the seiðr his mother had taught him, and he wielded it with expertise.

They were called to Nornheim, facing monsters the likes of which Loki had only ever seen in ancient books. Onward the troop advanced - the princes, flanked by their fellow warriors. An enormous dragon bellowed before them. Awakened from its home in a rocky crag, the beast now fought them at the top of a gorge.

“Watch out!” Cried Fandral. Loki, having just cast a burst of magic that made the beast retreat, looked up to see its tail whip around to meet them. The swift tail met it’s mark - Loki’s chest - and knocked him into the air, catapulting him backward, off the side of the gorge.

The ground was far away. Too far. Fear gripped Loki’s chest, and regret - again his eyes closed, like they had years before when he fell from the tree.

Now a weight hit him, but it was not the ground. Instead it was Thor, flying through the air with Mjolnir, delivering them from the angry dragon. They reached the ground safely, and once his feet were firmly on the ground (though his knees still shook), Loki’s eyes opened.

Thor gave a booming laugh, smacking Loki’s shoulder with a hand.

“Don’t worry, brother. I’ve got you.”

The last time Loki fell, no one was there to catch him.

His should-be red eyes (instead cloaked by magic to be the same oceanic tone as before), full of tears, watched his once-father and once-brother disappear into silhouettes - then to nothing. Then his eyes shut.

Despite the familiar crushing blackness rushing in around him, no warm embrace pulled him back to the light.

No, this was a long fall. Long, and cold, so cold that even his Jotun body felt sluggish.

Jotun.

Laufey’s son.

Loki choked back a sob, but the cold lingered. Cold that snaked tendrils of ice into his bones, cold that yanked the air from his breast. He wished the cold would leave. When it would end - when this fall would end, he did not know.

He hoped when it did, he would end, too.

Perhaps the Norns would have mercy on him.

They would see the pain he felt, the disgraced and wretched mess of a fallen prince that he was, and put him out of his misery. No golden halls awaited him in the afterlife, he knew that much. He could settle for a quiet unexistence. In fact, he expected it: the bleakness of Hel likely awaited him.

But then something happened that Loki did not expect.

He fell with purpose.

Rather than falling from, indeed, he was now falling to. To where, he did not know. But as he drifted through the cold, his fall quickened, just as the thud within his chest quickened in turn. Gravity, or something like it, grabbed hold of his body and pulled it down. Or up. He wasn’t sure of the direction.

All too suddenly, he collided with the ground. The sound alone made him sick - the sound of flesh and bone crushed against unforgiving stone.

There was breathing - damaged, desperate wheezes for air, and it took him a moment to realize it was his.

He coughed and a warm, metallic taste filled his mouth. The side of his face felt as though it had been caved in. As he winced through the searing pain and gasped for air that stung his lungs, Loki concluded he was definitely still alive. Pain was for the living.

But as his eyes slowly opened, his vision blurred and tinted red, he made out a figure before him. It stood hunched over face half covered with a low hood. The creature tilted its head and growled.

Something spoke. A voice from somewhere else. Deep, and low. “What has chance brought to me?”

“A mere derelict.” The hooded creature hissed.

Loki winced, slowly sitting up with a grimace. Every sinew of his body shrieked in distaste at the movement, but he had to get upright. Heavy footsteps sounded, and as Loki’s vision focused, he realized a figure was descending the rocky staircase before him. Giant, imposing, cloaked in an air of danger that made his stomach turn.

Loki wanted to go home. He wanted to escape this horrible nightmare; to wake up and find himself in his mother’s arms, or his brother’s care.

But as the figure towered over him, he realized:

He was no longer a son of Frigga, and as such no beautiful queen would embrace him.

He was no longer a brother of Thor, so neither would the god of thunder protect him.

And he was no longer a son of Odin, so no great king would rescue him.

From now on, for the sake of survival, he would have to live with his eyes wide open.

#sorry #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki angst #loki #no happy ending

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lord-explosion-baku · 5 years ago

Text

Like Ghosts In Snow

Midoriya x Reader (Vampire AU)

Warnings: Blood mention, death mention, suggestive themes, light yandere??? (idk bro he was pretty much a yandere throughout the fic)

A/N: This is the last chapter I’ll be adding to one of my first fics and I wanted to share it mostly because I am actually proud of it, but also because after I posted this chapter, I went back and reread the first few chapters and... woof. All I can say is that I’ve come a very long way. It’s kind of a good reminder that all writers start out from somewhere. I know I’ve said this on my blog dozens of times, but I cannot stress this enough: in order to get better at writing, you need to W R I T E. I want to guess that I’ve written at least 500 pages of story in the last year and a half, and though I pride myself on my ideas and certain one-liners, not everything is very pretty. I can admit it. It be like that. I’ve grown since I first picked up the pen (or if we’re being literal, the phone) and it’s okay! I’m happy with where I’m at and I’ve even more excited to see how I’ll improve within the next year, too! Anyways, read this if you want! There are major plot spoilers in this last chapter, obviously, but if you wanna learn what happens the chronological way, you must brave my writing circa 2018 :’). I wanted to say thank you all for joining me on this wacky, messy, bloody journey and I hope you enjoy.

“We’ve got The Cramps, Joy Division, The Doors…” Izuku hummed shifting through another stack of cassette tapes. “Oh! How about Bowie?”

The sounds of clattering pins rang in Izuku’s ears. While he was looking through music to listen to on the upcoming journey, you were looking for accessories— different pins and patches to place on yours and Izuku’s jackets and bags.

“Bowie?” You asked with obvious interest. “What album?”

“Low.”

“Ah… Grim and ethereal… sounds that make the listener think about their own mortality, and the inevitability of non-existence…”

You took a pensive pause, considering the album. Izuku loved that you thought about music so thoroughly. All Might’s comic book store has become home to you just as it had been with him. He loved the comfort he felt with you around. He felt home with you here.

“Perfect for driving through the desert,” Izuku mused, fingering the tape.

“Exactly,” you said, and Izuku could hear the grin in your voice. The two of you were exactly in sync— perfect for each other.

Music played on a record player the two of you decided to leave at the store as Izuku neatly placed the cassette with the rest he’d collected. He looked to you. You were slowly swaying your hips to the rhythmic beat that bounced around the second floor to the comic book store. Izuku’s eyes grew heavy as he silently watched you, appreciating the way your body moved even when you didn’t think you were being watched. He dropped the bag to the floor.

Izuku looped his arms around your waist, closing his grasp on your stomach. He leaned into you, inhaling your aroma; it was sweet like wildflowers and jasmine. Izuku closed his eyes and hummed, “dance with me…”

You let out a light chuckle, a sound Izuku adored, a sound he could never get enough of. “How many times are you going to ask me to dance with you until we finally get this show on the road?”

“Not enough.” Izuku kissed the back of your neck and you shuddered. He did so again, pressing a hand against your stomach, and you finally turned to face him, your cheeks lightly dusted in familiar warmth. He grinned and took your hand into his, bringing it up to his lips so he could peck your strong knuckles, looking up at you through thick, dark lashes. “Dance with me.”

You brought your arms around his shoulders and grinned. Izuku grew warm when you closed the space between the two of you, your soft body against him making him pulsate in all the right places. “How could I say no when you show me a face like that?”

Triumph coursed through Izuku’s now active veins as the two of you danced in circles inside the closed space. Your beautiful laughter battled the music as he twirled you around, relishing the moment you came back into his arms and buried your head into his shoulders. He had you. He had you, because you chose him. You came back from a plane unknown to live the rest of your undefinable days dancing and hunting with him. Not Todoroki and certainly not Kacchan. Him.

“What song is this?” You asked into his shoulder.

Izuku pursed his lips. He’d certainly heard the song before, but he couldn’t recall its name, nor what band was playing. For once in his life, he was at a loss for information, because nothing in this world existed outside of you. Hell, all the best songs in the world could be renamed after you if he had any say in it.

Izuku muttered something indecipherable, knowing too well that you didn’t actually want to know the name of the song, you merely wanted to add conversation to battle against the inevitable.

His hands slid down your back and he could feel your heartbeat pickup against his chest. At one point of his second life, the sound of your heart working to push blood through your veins would have sent him to the absolute edge, throat scorching and body aching with lust and need and thirst. Now that thirst was replaced by something less like famine and more like a greedy craving, the lust he kept for you and only you as prominent as ever. You gazed up at him and bit your lip. Your hand ghosted across his cheek, drifting to the back of his neck. Your touch was a whisper in a language he knew very well.

You loved him. You wanted him.

You stood up in your tiptoes to brush your lips across his. It was a simple peck— one that intended to be sweet, but one that didn’t fail to make Izuku even more desirous, wanting more. Whenever he had a taste of you, he’d always need more. You knew that. And so Izuku moved.

He pushed you back against the lapel pin counter, kissing you urgently as he wedged his knee between your thighs. You sighed into him, allowing Izuku to roll his tongue over yours, tasting you, basking in all that you were willing to give. A cool hand made its way under your shirt. You moaned as Izuku peppered kisses towards your neck, laving his tongue across one of the few scars that stayed present even after both of your changes. The scar was cool underneath his tongue. Your fingers knitted into the back of his curly locks when he bit down on a place that remained untouched, and you moaned again, lips tightly pressed together in hopes to not give yourself away to the man downstairs. Still, your legs wrapped around Izuku and Izuku sucked harshly in an attempt to break your resolve, because to him, there was no man downstairs; there was only you, and he wanted to hear what he could do to you.

“What if he catches us?” You whispered in a low, breathy way, your voice breaking at the word ‘catch.’ It was adorable when you tried to keep yourself a secret. It was hot when Izuku revealed that secret.

“He won’t.” Izuku quickly retorted, again latching his lips to yours while he fumbled with the buttons of your blouse, although, he couldn’t know for sure. He just didn’t care. He kissed your collarbone, your right breast, then your left, pausing only to peek up at your flustered expression and while he listened to the rapid pace your heart took. Your pupils were blown, probably mirroring his. He loved that— your mutual hunger for one another. Izuku knew he had won when you lightly pushed his head farther down, and Izuku happily obliged to take your unspoken demand.

“KIDS!” A familiar bellow shook the room even though it seemed light years away.

Izuku rubbed his cheek on your soft thigh, licking his lips as he took in you. His fingers pet you through thin cotton materials and he could nearly keel over a die when he felt the saturated evidence of your desire. He wanted so badly for you to say, ‘ignore him and play with me. I need you, Izuku. I need you now.’

“Izuku—“ you objected as his thumb teased circles around your peak. Defiantly, his tongue ran up your thigh and he pressed deeper against you, hoping that with his touch, you’d be just as lost in him as he was you.

“ARE YOU DONE?!”

“Yeah!” You called back, and Izuku’s head fell onto your leg. Betrayal, defeat, anguish. Izuku huffed.

“Awww, c’mooon,” you cooed, lifting Izuku by his chin to meet your face, “don’t be pouty! We’ll have plenty of time to continue this on the road!”

“Like in the back of the Jeep?”

You pressed your lips together. Izuku could only assume what you were thinking. You didn’t want to sleep with him in that red Jeep either because it would be disrespectful to your late, adoptive-father, or the thought that your father may have done the do in that exact spot back in his prime was a serious turnoff.

“Erm. Maybe like a motel or a tent or something.”

Izuku huffed again. You grinned, your eyes crinkling at the sides and he could only assume what you were seeing. Instead of a seductive vampire with heavily lidded eyes that drew lust out of his victim with a simple flick of his tongue, you were seeing a grumpy puppy, cheeks puffing out and skin blooming pink because he wasn’t getting what he wanted. Oh, how his face betrayed him. Oh, how he missed being one hundred percent creature of the night. There was nothing cute or sweet or childish about a man who’d stalk you in a dark alley in order to satiate his need. There was only fear, lust, and sex.

That didn’t mean that creature was completely lost to him, though you didn’t yet have to know just how much vampirism still resided in Izuku. He would show you, of course, but that was something he’d have to do little by little to keep you from fretting. It was something he could do now.

Izuku squeezed your thighs and looked you straight in the eyes. “Say that you love me.”

“I do, Izuku-“ one of your hands went to cup his face “-I love you.”

Izuku mimicked your motion, his sweet voice lowering into a darker octave. “Say that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered back, and Izuku was keenly aware of how your heart fluttered in your chest. “Forever and always.”

Izuku leaned into you, but kept himself bare centimeters from your lips. He watched you part for him, expecting a kiss, but instead he stayed there and watched you struggle to get what you wanted. He pushed his pelvis against you, and you let out a slight gasp when you felt just how much he wanted to ravage you, then and there.

“‘Zuku,” your voice was almost a whimper, a tease for what he’d be expecting later on in the night or very early in the morning. Your nails dug into his shoulder as he dragged his tongue across your lush, bottom lip. He eyed you and waited for you to start your own list filled frenzy. When you did, Izuku stepped away from the table, right when you were about to shove your back lips onto his.

“Okay!” He chirped merrily, knowing too well how his face could change into that of devilish innocence in a blink of an eye. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

You scoffed. “That’s not nice!”

Izuku smirked and headed towards the stairs. It only took a couple seconds to get you bounding after him, latching onto his hands and muttering profanities under your breath. Izuku could laugh. Even when he loses, he wins.

All Might was sending the two of you on your first hunting trip together. It was exciting for several reasons: you and Izuku were going to be alone together, the two of you were the vampire slayer’s apprentices (although, Izuku still held the claim of being a slayer prodigy) so you had everything a hunter’s heart could desire, and, again, you were going to be alone together.

All Might slammed a duffel bag onto the store’s counter, the motion letting out clinking, metallic sounds. It wasn’t cassette tapes and enamel pins in the bag that All Might prepares for you. Izuku wondered if you were nervous. He’d gone on trips before, but this was your first time. Of course, you had nothing to worry about. Izuku was never, not ever, going to let anything hurt you. He’d already made the mistake of letting that happen once when he had his back turned to you on Hizashi’s cliff, and he would not be letting that happen again.

All Might bid the two of you farewell with some tips and tricks that Izuku had already known. You looked so cute absorbing all the information you could though and Izuku was jealous. He’d make sure that he became more of a teacher to you while you were on the road.

You insisted on carrying the duffel bag to the Jeep, explaining that you weren’t fragile and that you could hold your own. Izuku insisted that he would drive, explaining that he could see better at night, although he left out the part that he really wanted to carry your sleeping body into your shared motel room.

You clambered into the passenger seat, nearly bouncing up and down from excitement. You’d expressed plenty of times how badly you missed being on the road, and it was clear to Izuku as you sifted through all your borrowed cassette tapes how good this was going to be for you. Your good mood was infectious.

“What should we listen to first?” You asked, pulling out your top three choices.

“Whatever you want!” And Izuku meant it. There was still so much to learn about you and though you both had plenty of time on your hands, Izuku was impatient. He wanted to know everything. You seemed to choose something at random, but when you popped open the cassette player, you saw that there was something in there already.

“Oh,” you said, looking wistful. Whatever it had been, it was Aizawa’s. Izuku struggled to read your mood.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Mix tape.”

Boldly, he suggested, “we could… listen to this first…”

“Yeah…” you paused before pushing the tape back in. There was a click. Izuku started the engine and watched you. A soft smile found your face when an old sixties rock band started playing. Izuku pet your hair back and you leaned over to smooch his lips. “I can’t wait!”

“Me neither.” Izuku grinned and backed out of the parking spot. The two of you waved to the proud looking All Might and sped down the Santa Carla streets.

While Izuku drove, you sang softly to each song while you sewed patched and stuck lapel pins into yours and Izuku’s clothes. He was impressed that you knew the lyrics to nearly everything on the track and he even joined in singing during his favorite choruses. Driving with you was heaven on earth.

When Izuku got to the desert, he became a little wary— cautious of both things that lurked in the night, and secrets that he wasn’t yet ready to tell you. He was thankful that you had your own activities to keep you preoccupied, because the secret he was keeping happened to surface, but it was one that could only be seen had you been looking out for it.

Dabi and Toga, two members of his misfit, makeshift coven, had been waiting by the side of the road to see Izuku off. He knew that they, too, were like him. He was never officially apart of Selene’s coven, so when her soul was finally sent on to the next plane, Izuku didn’t quite change back exactly like the rest of the kids whose faces painted the walls of Santa Carla.

Izuku gave them a curt nod as he drove past them and when he did so, he saw that there was a new addition to their miniature coven: Ochako Uraraka. Izuku didn’t care much when he discovered her untimely demise, but knowing that she finally got half of what she wanted brought a smile to his face. He could feel happy for one of his ex-best friends, especially since he, himself, got all of what he wanted.

Izuku kept his left hand on the steering wheel, while bringing his right to your thigh. You hummed in appreciation right as ‘People Are Strange’ by The Doors came on. You gasped, and for a split second, Izuku thought it was because you loved the song. He recalled that the very first conversation he had with you was about Jim Morrison and how Izuku hinted that he was a vampire, but then you cursed under your breath.

Izuku’s brows knitted together. “What is it?”

“I pricked my finger,” you said, and turned to shuffle through things in the back. “Is the first aid kit up up here or in the trunk?”

“Are you bleeding?”

“A little,” you said bashfully.

Izuku snickered. “We’re hunters, you know. We heal in a flash.” Then Izuku smelled you. It was rich, sweet, delicious… just so you and Izuku felt that very familiar and very prominent aching.

“Let me see it.”

Izuku hoped you couldn’t hear the stern depravity in his voice. He’d let you know later on just how desperate he was to have you listen to his demand at this very second, but for now, his very hungry heart would just be thankful that you were so ready to comply. You stuck your finger out to him. Izuku was a great multitasker and he didn’t expect anyone else to be on the road at this time of the night, so he was able to take in the absolute treasure that was your crimson splendor.

He guided your finger in between his lips. His tongue rolled out and lapped at the wound, swirling around your finger. You let out the softest gasps, right before biting your lips. Izuku eyed you as he sampled your magnificence. You seemed to be enjoying yourself, but there was no chance that you liked this as much as him. Still, he adored seeing the flush of your cheeks and that faraway look you were giving him. You wanted him to devour you.

Izuku recalled promising you that he was going to savor you, and savor you he will, but for now, he would let himself indulge in the seraphic flavors of honey… sunshine…

Ambrosia.

#im actually really sad this is over #gis #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #bnha x reader #bnha yandere #mha x reader #reader insert #bnha reader insert #yandere male #vampire au #bnha au #bnha imagine #yandere!izuku #yandere!izuku midoriya

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imasimpforstevengrant · 5 years ago

Text

Into you

@raven-romanoff

@maristela1968

@flaky178

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Author's note:

First off... Gif made from the original video.

https://youtu.be/iqDUGD8SHF4

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I have to confess I wanted to write another smut for Arthur/Harleen since the first one I wrote wasn't so satisfying... So, here it is! It took me a long time to write it (two months, actually. Bless the writer's block, FFS) so I hope you like it!

Second, sorry for any typos because english is not my first language (Chilean Spanish Strikes Back once again lol).

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Summary: Follow up to "I feel you". After his first night with Harleen, Arthur cannot get enough of her... And she has more in store for him than just a few warm, kind words.

Warnings: insecurity, (considerable) age gap, self loathing, swearing, masturbation (both receiving), strong sexual themes, unprotected sex, mild dirty talk... And smut.

Words: 8.540 (sorry if it's too long. I hope you don't get bored)

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The clock marked 5:46 a.m. when Arthur opened his eyes. He had a blanket over his frail, undressed form and was alone. The missing presence of Harleen alarmed him, believing it was another painful hallucination or worse. The idea she regretted the union and decided to lock in her bedroom to sleep by herself harassed his mind incessantly.

As soon as the neon lights shone before his eyes, he knew everything was alright. He almost fell on the couch again, relieved. But he never stopped asking where she was, though the calm background around him tenderly convinced the convulsed psyche to not keep tormenting.

As he yawned, taking a seat, he replayed everything that happened a few hours ago.

He just had sex.

Chuckling, he lit up a cigarette. And thought about what happened one more time so his brain would memorize it.

Harleen allowed him to touch her.

The memory of her moaning and straddling him set him on fire. Harleen had such a good time and he loved to see her enjoying it. The killing eagerness to repeat the act, just to see her again coming undone, to hear her lustful moans slowly took over his mind.

He took a deep breath and looked for his hoodie. The cloth in question was found on a puddle of mixed garments, which included her peach coloured pajamas and his pants. Arthur took the blanket off partially to grab the sleeveless shirt with certain desperation to smell it, to prove himself this wasn’t his imagination. The sweet, fruity smell filled his nose, almost submerging him into a high state. It wasn’t enough, though. A profound nuzzle into the garment served as a vain way to revive the sensations experimented as Harleen let his mouth roam over her chest. He absorbed the fresh, fruity scent. Eventually the need the dirty habit brought with it overcame the ritual that reduced Arthur to a starving animal. As the hunger diminished, he put the piece of clothing aside. Arthur took his time, remembering the initial goal by rummaging the cloth puddle: the pack of cigarettes showed up coming out the right pocket in a scalene triangle shape. He took it immediately, also taking the lighter.

As he smoked his cigarette, for the first time he thought how lucky he was. As a malevolent chuckle reverberated through the air, he finally savoured what was that contact he yearned so much. A sensation of being an ordinary man nested on his heart. That’s what an ordinary man had, right? A job, a girlfriend, a sex life. He laid back on the couch again, bathing in this new, positive emotions. Looking at the shelf full of books, small crystal figures and a portrait of her holding a scroll, most likely her diploma once she got her degree. Arthur quickly got up to hold the portrait, watching it carefully. She seemed so… happy.

Returning the portrait to its original place, he stepped to the couch again. His thoughts clouded by the wonderful moment Harleen shared with him: loved how gentle she was, how considerate and patiently handled the loss of his celibacy in such an skilled way. It was the first time he truly felt in tune with someone in his entire fucking life. It was way beyond the physical bonding. He couldn’t find the words for it but he was sure about how he felt.

Seen.

While Arthur was searching another cigarette to smoke, another rowdy idea swarmed in his mind: he had never found himself attractive, given his eternal history of rejection from everyone and his frail appearance just increased the mute but obvious aura of dislike around him. What were the odds for a woman like Harleen to fall for him? One in a million. Her looks could perfectly allow her a good life as a model and her kindness and easygoing personality would even take her farther away from the poverty of the building. Yet, she didn't seem interested in pursue a better, new life. She could perfectly have any man at her mercy and still she preferred to stay, actually giving a damn about others.

Suddenly his self loathing bloomed fully again. What could he possibly offer her, except for misery and sorrow? Nothing. Nothing but a unquenchable thirst for her. An aged, pained soul devoid of love. She deserved better. A strong man.

A man of her own age.

Quickly his eyes closed. The hated guilt, the same he swore he had overcome, came back like a furious, stormy surge. Arthur felt he had committed an unforgivable sin by sleeping with her. She was so precious, so joyful... And so young. Things Arthur was far from. He was so inexperienced, so clumsy, so flawed... A dark part of him felt he had defiled her, that he had taken advantage of her gentleness to sate his own selfish desires. This sense of perversion flooded his mind, reducing the happy moment to a mistake that shouldn't have been. His lungs crumpled the air, if the smoke didn't disperse it. The hand that left free palmed the forehead, to drive away the negativity.

Suddenly his mind remembered the laughing fit. And the gentle hug that followed it. The pieces in this puzzle came together. Harleen holding him right against her chest in a searing yet tender embrace. Not even his mother would offer such comforting balm.

Arthur then let a short cackle to shatter the silence. He definitely had something but he did not know for sure what was that something. It had to be more than just being a 'hard working man'. If she was so gentle with him, surely a feeling was on the way. To his mind comes the tender memory of their first meeting. The first thing he got from her was a warm, kind smile through the fence.

Of course, the cursed fit fucked up everything. But it happened! The open palm patted his chest, calming down the turbulent flow inside of him. The happy memory of their first meeting brought also the passionate moment of the first kiss which almost led them to the bed.

Arthur processed a thousand things that night. But one thing was for certain: that night Harleen awoke a hunger he had never felt in his life. Never saying it but showing it in their kissing sessions. He remembered that one time when he was expecting her to return after her shift. It was late at night. His knee bounced while Arthur smoked three cigarettes in the meantime. But he wasn’t alone. There were two young men a few feet away who minded their own business. Arthur feared them to be robbers but nothing happened. He put his hoodie on and kept smoking. A bus arrived but she wasn’t among the four people who stepped down from the vehicle. Two more came, but she was never among them. It started to get on his nerves when a taxi finally stopped and revealed the lovely passenger:

As soon as Harleen set foot outside, Arthur jumped out from the bench. The two other men witnessed the scene: their faces changed from curiousity to actual surprise when the blonde threw her arms to the man who evidently was older than her. But the lovers didn’t care. Their kiss was so heated that the youngest of the two muttered “damn” under his breath. They couldn’t stop staring at them, but Arthur was too focused on sharing their lips in a desperate dance. He was oblivious to the envy he inspired in every man whenever Harleen would display her affection in public. Therefore, he didn’t care. He longed to take the initiative in their eventual intimate encounter but the fear his inexperience would ruin it prevented any attempt to start intimacy. Harleen was aware of how hard was for him to begin with physical contact, though he never denied it. She could tell he had so much to say by just looking at his eyes. Patience with him would pay off. And the worst part of all this? The fits.

The fucking laughing fits. And Harleen could only hug the pain away against her chest while his head found shelter in it. He froze in the position where he basically clawed to her body. It was the third time he had one in front of her, the second being in the empty subway after a date. It was after a careless kiss Harleen granted to his lips while waiting for him to go off work. He could tell she had been drinking: she was way more affectionate than usual. The spontaneous caress on his lips took him by surprise. He laughed at his fucking frustration on how he could possibly cope with what was regarded as the ultimate loss of personal space. He considered himself as a romantic at heart but Harleen’s overwhelming passion reminded him of how inexperienced he was, how unsure he was actually feeling relating to his damaged masculinity.

It was almost like a pessimistic prelude before their first night together, since Arthur did not have the chance to come closer to her disregarding sex. He just had kissed and embraced her, restraining his touches to her face, neck and waist but never beyond there. Arthur preferred the silent sensuality of passiveness, though he desired to sink down deep inside of her.

The crude self loathing drifted to another question: Where was she?

Taking the blanket off him and putting his pants on, Arthur wandered over the flat and saw a dim orange light glowing behind the door, which was open just a crack. Analysing the lit lines, he then paid attention to the steam coming from the bathroom. He stopped breathing, closing his eyes to not commit the sin to spy on her.

His right hand knocked the door, leaning into it expecting the answer. A few seconds later, her voice approved him to get into the place. Arthur got in, anxious.

The sight of her completely overrode his senses. He stood completely frozen trying to process, once again, what was happening. The mere action of this impious gaze was enough to make him turn his head. She bursted out laughing. And hearing she wasn't upset with his presence managed to look at her.

Harleen was on the bathtub, laying on her back. Her damp hair covered her chest while the foam didnt allow to see more of her body. This didn't upset him, of course. This new glimpse of his lover was something he would never forget.

Amused by his priceless expression, Harleen covered her face.

"Are you in need for another ride, Mr. Fleck?", She asked, temptingly.

Arthur licked his lips as he closed the door behind him.

"After that? Always". The steps towards her made Harleen change her position to lie on her side, to grant him a better sight. He sat on the floor, eyes concentrated maniacally in her figure. Her soft, wet hand touched his own, intertwining her fingers with his for a brief moment to kiss them.

Arthur stared at her for long seconds. Harleen didn't seem uncomfortable despite how much he struggled to remain modest. She couldn't blame the poor guy. Her pose was way too sensual to be indifferent. The appreciation showed a silent invitation for more intimate contact, for more comfort and company. He could only see her precious lower curvature showing partially. Her left arm covered her chest while supporting herself on the edge of the bathtub with the other hand. He loved how much sensuality she oozed even when she did nothing.

“Did you have a good sleep?”

Arthur replayed the question to process it.

“Yes” he simply nodded, “but it seems you didn’t. You weren’t there when I woke up”.

“I don’t sleep too much, Arthur. Just needed to take a bath to refresh myself after our hot, noisy turmoil”.

Arthur grinned widely. And it wasn’t only for the friendly reminder of why he felt excited. He darted his eyes towards the platinum strands of hair stuck on her face, falling down to stick to her shoulders and forearm, creating a sinuous curve that lined her hip with blue shades. After a few awkward seconds of silence, Harleen finally pronounced:

“So, since we’re in this situation… would you like to talk about what happened?”

“Yes”. Arthur was anxious to take advantage of any chance he’d had to end up in the bed with her. But he was too nervous to start a conversation about the subject. She noticed it and did her best to not put him in an uncomfortable position. Arthur just glared at her.

“It feels so different when you don’t have to lay your hands on yourself”, he cleaned the sweat that formed in his forehead, “it’s different to have a… um”, doing his best to retain the stammer that prevented a fluid talk, he tried to look for the right words to describe what happened in his head.

“A…?”

“It’s different when you see it than to experience it. It feels better when you have a body next to you”, he gulped, trying to swallow the nervousness, “it was a long little yearn since I began to understand these things about…”

“About sex?”

“Yes” was his answer, “I’m sorry if I sound strange. But this conversation is too personal and… and all this is new for me. I never thought I would be with a woman like that and it turns out it’s better than I expected”.

Harleen tilted her head, paying attention to every single word.

“Is there something you liked in particular?”

Arthur lowered his head, trying to think and replay the scene. From the passionate, tenderly patient foreplay to the scandalous and thirsty ride. There were so many good moments to pick one in particular. But then, her voice broke his thoughtful immersion.

“Or maybe was there something you did not like?”

This drew a devilish, naughty grin in Arthur.

"What's not to like about it?” his hand slicking back the fluffy hair, “We fucked like crazy and you ask me if there's something I did not like about it?", the verdant glow turned darker. Harleen rose an eyebrow, expectant. Arthur began to pant and cleared his throat in an almost hilarious way to hide his incipient arousal.

"I couldn't resist... I simply couldn't... because I've been wanting to do those things to you since I saw you--" a chuckle left his mouth at the raw confession. A painful slap on his mouth to quieten down the noise made Harleen immediately sat in case a fit of laughter would tear his throat apart again. Extending her hands to grab his forearms, the violent move shook her long, wet hair which allowed the loner to catch a glimpse of her naked chest.

The fit, thank goodness, never came. Arthur just coughed, waving his hand so any sense of worry Harleen felt would dispel in time. As things settled down, Arthur continued the talk where it left off.

“This—this feels like a very good beginning. But—“ his words concluded but his expression reflected a profound thought he couldn’t put words on yet.

“It’s alright. You can tell me”.

It took a long while to answer. There was almost completely silent if it wasn’t the for the tense breathing that Arthur fought to control.

“You really enjoy doing this to me, do you?”, Arthur embed the green spell his eyes had cast on her.

Harleen’s expression went from amusement to actual surprise. There was more from him to tell her, however. She nodded almost imperceptibly to give him the confidence he needed.

“You never felt uncomfortable with me even when you knew the things I wanted to do to you from the beginning. You let me kiss you, you let me touch you… you were never afraid to show me your body from the first day as you now do” he came closer to her, demanding answers, “until a while ago, I thought I could never awake those reactions on a woman. But I did”. He licked his lips, tilting his head to stare at her, “do you enjoy doing this to me?”

“By saying ’this’ you refer to… provocation?”

“Yes”, Arthur’s tone of voice revealed his relief to finally know the word for the aforementioned action.

Harleen hummed, thoughtful.

“I did not intend to provoke you to torture you. I intended it just to get your attention. You left just before the best part in our first kiss and I’ve been craving you in that way as well since. I wanted you to touch me… yet our caresses did not go beyond a cuddle or a kiss, so I thought that leaving the door unlocked after I arrived from work, wearing a few pretty clothes would give you a hint to come to me so we could be together like that at last”.

Arthur was completely mute at this point.

“But if you feel uncomfortable with me like this, I won’t keep on” she raised her hands in a childish sign of surrender. Arthur shook his head.

“It’s not the fact I don’t want to touch you. It’s… another thing. I know you won’t deny me your body. There are so many things…” he ruffled the disheveled hair in an involuntary move to relax.

“What?”

Arthur sighed, finally finding the courage to voice what troubled him.

“How’s that you don't feel uncomfortable with my condition or—“

“Or…?”

Arthur gulped.

The hardest (and the most perverted) part would come to be verbalised.

“My… appearance?”

“What the fuck is wrong with your appearance?”, Arthur sighed and replied:

“I look old enough to be your father!” the green eyes pierced hers. If only the thought of it was dirty, confessing it was downright indecent. Eyelids were tightened to the point it caused him pain, in a futile attempt to erase any improper thought in which Harleen was the protagonist. However, her voice exploded with loud cackles, splashing the water with open palms. Was she actually laughing at him? He frowned, getting upset and impatient to obtain a good answer.

“And…?” was all she said, much to his chagrin. The puzzled glare did not display satisfaction for his part.

“Doesn’t that… disturb you?”

“In the slightest. It’s actually quite the opposite” she supported her chin on the edge of the bathtub, staring up to him while biting her lip playfully. Then in a false pretension of innocence, she giggled, her hand making a move to tell him to come closer to her.

“That’s one of the many reasons why I like you very, very much”. The sweet sinful sound of the whisper was irresistible to Arthur, whose lids were almost completely closed, jaw slightly dropped. The reality of this situation caught him off guard. It was unbelievable to the point of obscenity and a persistent need to step back from his lewd intentions out of disgust on behalf of common modesty.

“I like you, Arthur Fleck" her face came closer to his and in a manner so typical of her, took his hand to open it from the fist it had reduced to in order to grant it a provocative kiss on his fingers, sliding the bottom lip against them.

Remaining silent and completely hypnotized by the scene, Harleen proceeded to trace invisible lines with the tip of her fingers on the early, harsh wrinkles that were more of a proof of how devastating his life was. It was a testament, a living, bleeding monument of how much cruelty and indifference could drive a man to insanity. Her thumb ran assiduously on his lip scar, which she found gorgeous to look upon. His breath shortened, pupils dilated, blood flowing to his groin.

Her digits now went over those adorable dimples that only increased the odd beauty of his mirthless, worn out face. His eyes moved from one direction to another, trying to cope with this tender attention, closing them eventually, leaving the embarrassment aside. He smiled but her voice shattered the moment.

“How can I judge you for a condition you did not wish to suffer?”, her fingertips ran over the notorious wrinkles in his forehead, “it’s not your fault”.

She admired the subtle silver hair that would make the brown hue fade in time, ending the journey all over his face.

“You find me… attractive?”

“Well of course I fucking do”.

Again, the green menacing eyes had the effect on her.

“What is it that I have that you like so much?”

Murmuring against his lips, she replied:

“You’re oddly attractive” she held his face to reinforce their bond, “and yet you don’t know it” she kissed the lip scar, “of all the men I've been with, no one has looked at me in the way you do".

Arthur set all his focus on the praising words, which served to mend or to relieve a little the inhuman treatment he had received from the world as long as he remembered. There was nothing he could do, except process and replay the words every time a silence took place between them. Kindness seemed a far ghost, a laughable little dream, a cruel joke.

A pause allowed them to hear a few cars passing by, followed by sirens of an ambulance. It didn’t matter, since none of them mentioned it.

"I've never met a man who's been so grateful for a kind greet or a simple smile. I couldn't help it that rainy day you came back from work to talk to you. At first I had an idea about my secret admirer simply being another guy who drooled over my ass. I would have never imagined the man behind my steps was so hungry for affection. Your eyes are an open book, Arthur. I noticed your intentions... and I liked the idea of you and me together like that from that night”.

Arthur directed his hands to her lips, holding the ever persistent, painful question that scarred his psyche:

Was she real?

His hands touched down her jawline and neck. Just a stare and Arthur told her everything. Because, somehow he knew that it was through an intense stare that lovers could tell the most intimate things. He spoke through his body, through dance. But what about sex? What about the act that dazed him so much? She actually understood why he needed intimate contact with such urge. The repression he hated so ardently for being a cruel insult to his ego tasted so differently now that she sated the thirst just to leave him craving for more. He felt… like all the years with no female attention were worth it if the pleasure people would lose their heads about was true.

"I want to make you feel good. It’s what you deserve. And if no one gives you relief, then I’ll gladly do”, she put a curly lock behind his ear.

But before any sparkly iniciative took ahold of his voice to manifest the need to consummate their relationship for a second time, Harleen pronounced, as a pleasant surprise for his intentions:

"Because you know” her gaze was pure, burning lust, “I could use a good fuck right now". Her tone of voice was seductive, though secretive, like confessing a small misdemeanor. His hand was not free from her soft grasp and her teeth gifted it with a tiny nibble. Arthur’s body stiffened, processing the words. However, no reply emerged from his mouth. The attention was entirely drawn to her face. The suggestive smile betrayed her reciprocity related to his intentions. He was so lost with the tantalising promise of more affection that he missed out the loving, yet flirtatious offer Harleen uttered.

"Huh?" Arthur shook his head.

"Come on, I'm bored". Her mouth adopted a puerile pouting in an attempt to persuade him, "I'm bored, play with me".

Harleen crawled out from the bathtub, exposing her bare, wet body for the loner to see. Arthur's breath immediately cut off, his heart galloping wildly. Her milky, marmoreal skin glistened with drops of water which marked thin creeks all her body before the enraptured glance of the loner. This was an erotic image that Arthur could have only dreamt of.

Once again his hands served as the eccentric – and intrusive – instrument to trace the almost invisible, indiscernible line between fantasy and reality while the blonde was only entertained by his obvious, euphoric goodwill to comply her wish. She sat next to him.

"P-play... with you?" He repeated, battling the urge to faint, holding her body in his arms.

"Like you did on the couch with me", her hands held his face gently to kiss it, to then throw her arms to his shoulders, “touch me, Arthur. Touch me. Don’t be afraid”. The mentioned man was unable to pronounce anything, reducing his exploration by touching blindly her waist and back. She continued pressing her nude body, taking delight on watching her Arthur plunged her into a solid, vigorous embrace, absorbing her, holding her nape so hard to not allow her escape, focused on how good her wet hair felt against his chest… as if her bare bossom wasn’t the best part of it.

Harleen slid her fingers over his left shoulder, becoming more familiar with the protruding bone. She placed her hand in the same place where Arthur told her not to. This caused an immediate response from him. As Harleen noticed the horrible, vast bruise all over the right shoulder blade. A gutural groan warned her. She quickly apologized. But Arthur shook his head.

“It’s nothing. People are not precisely kind when they see me at work”.

The dark brown eyebrows arched in a sad expression. Her left arm assured a stable position for what she had in store for him. Arthur had no idea of what it was, but he knew it would be mind-blowing.

“I can make you feel good”, he leaned his head in her forehead. Despite his celibacy was no more, all these touches were still new for him and he wanted to treasure them as much as he could. Air was heavy. The fear of another laughing fit ruining the moment clouded his mind but Harleen didn't seem to notice. The devoted, passionate embrace that held them so close just fed the fire inside him to take things to another level.

Specially when her hand, teasing and avid, slipped above the pants where his manhood had responded to the visual, constant incentive. Fumbling the part to gradually pull down the pants in an enthralling motion that rendered the loner totally speechless. Once the cloth allowed his member to be graced by her hand.

He gasped, jolting at the sensation of the damp but warm hand around his length. It was so unbelievable that just yesterday, that part had met his own contact during years. The rapture again battled with the persistent and its idea that everything was his imagination. Negative thoughts misting the moment. No kind touches except from Penny. But even she seemed aloof, unaware on how much damaged her own son was. This fade away once the caresses grew steadier.

The rhythm of his breathing violently shook his chest up and down. He undid the hug partially to stare at the zone she paid so much attention to. His fully erect hardness receiving such caring treatment was taken straight out of a fantasy. His eyes couldn’stop glaring at the precious sight of the delicate hand going up and down in a maddening sway. He threw his head back, panting.

“Like that--just like that- please. Don’t stop it”, he whispered, holding to the border of the tub, his voice broke out in agonizing moans, varying from groans and hoarse screaming, mixed with very sharp swearing as the building up to the peak made presence as minutes went by. His legs trembled almost uncontrollably, hips thrusting up constantly.

Harleen of course was greedy. Taking advantage of the situation, her mouth sucked the prominence located at his neck to then lick it. Her sensual chuckle vibrated as she slid down the free hand on his convulsed chest, tenderly pressing it to calm down the crazed heartbeat. It didn’t take too long for him to start feeling a vertiginous shiver that expanded all over his groin. Sensing the situation was started to get out of his hands, the blonde rushed in:

“Don’t hold back. Do it”.

Arthur gasped as the climax hit him. He groaned into the air as the fierce hustle concluded. He was shaking, trying to not make a mess. The niveous strings spread all over the floor. Harleen glanced the scene, amazed to see Arthur a little less stressed. He lolled his head back, still pursuing the first intense feeling standing motionless, arms to his side, almost in a trance. Nothing could take the wide smile off him.

A soft massage to his collarbone made the aforementioned man react at last.

“My, my. You’re such a bombshell” Arthur muttered, blatantly ogling her. She smiled, smooching his cheek to quickly get up, much to his surprise. Harleen took a towel to wipe her hands and her body, leading her steps out of the bathroom. The loner was about to protest when she asked:

"Are you waiting for an invitation, Mr. Fleck? Or isn't the sight enough to motivate you to come to bed with me?"

The fascination held him still for a second, thinking the words that echoed in his mind repeatedly while enjoying the blonde's shameless exhibitionism. He turned the lights off as he searched for her. The outside lights prevented a complete darkness in the apartment. The drizzle hit the windows, creating a perfect, almost dreamlike atmosphere.

He had to see her to confirm his yearn could become real. And so, he found her stepping into the promised place, while the towel dried the mane, which seemed longer now, almost reaching the highest part of her thighs. Arthur got rid of his pants immediately.

Just about to reach the other foot to the room, Arthur extended his hand to reach her shoulder so she could turn to face him. Harleen was unable to suppress a surprised expression at the glimpse of his now completely naked body, causing to drop the towel.

Once she called his name, Arthur took her face between his hands to crash his lips on hers, pressing them into his several times to crown the passionate caress leading her in to the bedroom, their bodies entangled, anguished in a needy dance. They almost tripped over but the weak white light coming from a small lamp on the nightstand prevented it. He didn't pay too much attention to the surroundings once his body fell over hers on the bed. It were only them in this moment, and being on top of her unleashed a feverish want his psyche and body were not capable to contain anymore.

"You've chosen wisely, Mr. Fle--" his tongue was so insisting on earning a place inside her mouth that her words didn't come. Not that it bothered her, of course. Arthur’s eyes shone in a different light. It wasn’t just an exciting new hue. His fluffy dark hair, his lean muscles made a combination that made Harleen genuinely think that the man who was just a breath away to possess her wasn’t Arthur. His eyes had become greener. His stare was not only predacious. It gave the impression that he intended to enter not only her body but her soul too.

Harleen extended her hand towards the lamp to sink the room in darkness. She was close to success in her action if it wasn’t for Arthur mimicking it, just to ask her not to.

“It’s more exciting in the dark.”

“Why?”

“Because you only feel. You see nothing”.

Arthur whispered against her mouth:

“But I want to see you”.

Harleen rolled her eyes, laughing.

“Alright then” she chirped. Arthur covered her neck with doubtful kisses, afraid to make a wrong move. He then remembered:

(Like in the couch).

He stopped his course to descend to her chest. Harleen paid extreme attention to his reactions, which drifted from amazement to utter joy.

The man stood quietly, admiring the messy mane at her sides. A pink, bluish disaster covering her chest. The dark sense of dominance proper of a man who finally felt control over his life acquired a lighter shade as he distanced himself from her just enough to appreciate her astonishing beauty. Carefully, he slid a hand to dedicate his attention to the blue strands of hair, curling it around his finger, as he fantasized about for so long.

Harleen did not interrupt at all. This eccentric – but precious - way of communication was also new for her. What started as a simple invitation for a sexual encounter was progressively turning into a passionate discovery about each other. She knew Arthur wasn’t the most experienced man when it came to sex… but his enthusiasm was in no way to be questioned. Actions spoke louder than words.

The pink strands of hair winded around his fingers, uncoiling as his digits made it aside to have a good vision of her uncovered breasts. So focused he was that he did not come to realize Harleen moved her arms to allow him a better access. She looked at those arms. God, those arms. Veiny, hairy, bony. Inhabited by little spots near the elbow. It drew a sharp contrast with the softness of her skin. Soon, she would pay attention to them.

His facial expressions were a wonderful mixture of arousing disbelief and sincere admiration. Arthur seemed to be thoughtful for a few seconds on what he was going to do but he dared to slide his fingers over her collarbone, not leaving any inch of skin untouched. Then, he lowered to the sternum, circling it carefully to direct his ravenous digits to her left breast, studying the orbed part cautiously, examining its shape. The dedicated, paused fondling of it elicited a soft moan from her.

An evil, perverse grimace delineated his lips. Ah, that beautiful, sensual sound resounding again. How could he resist it?

It was with a predatory inflame that Arthur threw himself to pamper the zone with his mouth. The sudden outburst made Harleen grunt for air, grabbing the bedsheets, a violent spasm shaking her legs, making her toes curl. The voracious appetite he devoured the breast was combined with such despair that seemed the act was far from satisfying. Despite she was aware of Arthur's consistent (and certainly disturbing) fixation with female chests, she preferred to stay quiet about it and enjoy the use he gave to such compulsion. He did not restrict it to a simple suckling, as Harleen saw how he nuzzled his face against it to then cover the damp, shiny skin with kisses, sending shivers down her spine.

“Oh, Mr. Fleck… You do know how to put your mouth in use, do you?”, she felt high. As if she had taken a drug.

The flattering words enlivened him to concede the other breast the same treatment and Harleen couldn't stop flailing, now completely taken by the action. The unoccupied hand fondled her belly to pass over the hip to end in her thigh. When his mouth detached from the hardened nipple, he licked all the way up her chest and neck, savouring the salty taste of her sweat, causing Harleen to ragingly rear up. Arthur ascended to face her once more just for her to grasp the strongly angular wrist once his arms found themselves near her waist. He frowned, confused. But his apparent disapproving look contorted to a one of complete flabbergast when Harleen opened her mouth so her tongue would coax his index and middle fingers, oiling them to steer the hand towards her searing feminity. His eyes widened, like a small kid watching in awe a mischievous deed. The absolute lewd look in her eyes erased any logic sense on him, if there was any in first place.

“Sure you want to warm up things first before diving in, do you mr. Fleck?” she spread her legs and Arthur lowered his head, dealing with the joy that overflowed his being.

“Yeah”, his murmur was impatient and euphoric, “I can’t wait to…” he couldn’t say it.

“Come on. Don’t be shy” she chuckled, frisky, “say it”.

“I just can’t wait to do it inside you”. She gladly approved as their hands went on tune on her intimacy. Arthur was startled, “but I don’t… I have never done this to a woman”.

Harleen nodded eagerly.

“Then allow me to show you how”, a toothy, naughty grin was all he got as a reply. He ended up emulating her. The grin was substituted to a temptative whisper:

"There... There". The first touches to become familiar and then to please them. This new action left Arthur completely speechless. A mess of joined hands constantly massaged the silky, wet little space of hers. It didn't had an effect on Harleen only, making the rigid consistency return.

He smirked, evilly, as they took their time. Despite his restiveness, he knew patience would pay off. The caress went over the slick folds which soon would welcome him, kneading it constantly. His slender fingers then began to approach by own initiative, applying what he just had learned. Seconds later, with the same patience, Harleen made him stop precisely at the weakest point of a woman. He sensed a humid nub. As their hands began rubbing it, Arthur noticed it made her body jounce, a chain of gratifying sounds fleeing her throat. He was not able to stop staring at the body part receiving the sweet and lecherous attention, putting more effort into it. Gradually her hand got away to let him take the iniciative now, encircling it.

The uncontrollable tremble that shook her legs made her close her eyes. Arthur stood there, his hand still stimulating her sex as intensely as posible, spellbound, captivated by her reactions. He leaned a bit when her breaths stirred her chest for more air. The blonde panted, trying to look for something to cling to as she was coming to her peak.

“Arthur… I can't—I can’t endure it anym—“ The phrase marked the last thing she could control before the fulminant end. Mellifluous moans came from her mouth, praising him, calling his name repeatedly. He was certainly bewitched at the image. So lost in the ecstasy that only the amatory practice could bring her, Harleen missed the fact Arthur did not blink in any moment, recording obsessively every move.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about” his chuckle causing her insides quiver. He loved how her muscles twitched on his hand, priding himself on the magnificent reaction he had caused on her.

Arthur patiently awaited for her to regain her breath before the best part would take place. He placed his hands at her sides to remain firm, his muscles tense and strong as a rock, marking the defined biceps Harleen loved so much. She opened her eyes just in the right moment when the hungry loner expected to end the hunger that harmed their souls so much.

Harleen caressed his cheeks with the backs of her hands. Arthur leaned so their foreheads would touch. It was a torture for him as well. He placed a hand on her hip, sliding it down to the inner thigh, aligning his stiffened arousal in her entrance, brushing the sensitive nub with his tip. The tease took her breath away, making her spine twist.

"Oh, God… please… please…", her vision blurred, her senses numb.

"I know"

"Please!" She begged, "I need you inside of me, please". The hopelessness in her voice did not manage to act immediately but it certainly had a great impact on him. The fear of not being capable of carrying the dominance now sparked a furious, impetuous need to silence the voices that insisted he wasn’t man enough to please a woman.

Through a furious, vehement move, Arthur finally made his way inside her, a sharp hiss and a vivid expression of sexual bliss seizing his facial features. He abruptly shut his eyes at the tight inner grip, lips slightly parted, hearing Harleen let out a long, languishing moan. She arched her back, squirming beneath him. Arthur smiled, extremely pleased at the erotic reaction while still trying to find a more comfortable angle to keep doing his part. He wanted more, however, and he was gonna manifest it by holding her chin in his thumb and index finger. Harleen opened her eyes while Arthur awaited her reaction as she received him fully. Taking a deep breath, he managed to open his eyes to cherish the fantastic view of her trying to handle his hard length making a place inside the best way she could. She held his head, carefully tugging his curls.

Invader and invaded stared at each other.

"Take your time... We're not in a rush". The calm words soothed the anxiety prior to sex but the pleasure the act had to offer them rushed him to resume their act: Arthur deepened the insertion into her hot, velvety intimacy. Harleen gasped while becoming used to his presence inside of her, taking utter delight in the raw feeling of her warm walls adjusting to the intrusion, sensing every nerve shuddering and throbbing around him. Her mouth was open, yet no words were articulated. Maybe because they weren’t necessary.

As for the loner, his vocal expressions of pleasure went from a heavy gasp, then to a loud groan to a thunderous moan.

"Fuck---!" Arthur cried out, while struggling to form a coherent word but he was way too aroused to dedicate energy to other action, except for moaning against each other's mouth, never breaking eye contact.

The first few seconds following their fleshes fully merging into one, Arthur experimented with paused and insecure moves, afraid to hurt her if he ever accelerated the pace but also afraid to ridicule himself if he’d last less than one minute. His slow thrusts allowed a better way to cope with the overwhelming, tight heat that kept their privacies tied together. He caught an steady rhythm that finally eased down. Sliding in and out, down and forward. Just two individuals who tried to bond despite their differences.

“Y—You”, Harleen suddenly pronounced herself. Arthur huffed for air as he paid attention, “you feel… you feel so good inside me”.

“I can--, I can tell”, he could hardly articulate.

Pressing his body against hers, Harleen whispered:

“We really lost a lot of time, did we?”

She let her hands, avidly and blindly, over his chest and collarbone as his hips, by mere sexual instinct, insisted on a faster, harder pace. To increase his confidence and to let him know she enjoyed it, her legs pressed his hips. For a moment, Arthur stopped, taking the opportunity to regain all the air in heavy pants. Harleen held his face, making aside the curly, sweaty locks that formed over his face. His aroused but exhausted expression was a delight to see.

“I swear to God—“ his ragged breath made his voice sound raspy, “if you keep doing that—“ another difficult exhaling move, “I won’t last too long”.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to”.

"I'm not upset" his shortened breath intake aroused her just as much his insertion did.

The rain intensified. Drops clashed against the window. It proved to be a pleasant background sound as the two lovers expressed their feelings through their bodies. Arthur certainly had the time of his entire fucking life engulfing himself in her over and over and over again. The rhythm worked perfectly slow for the two of them as they slid together, in perfect harmony, over the bed. The pace that carried them away from sanity was combined with passionate, wet kisses, sometimes tugging on his bottom lip and tangling her tongue in his mouth, kissing him behind the earlobe, whispering sensual words.

Arthur had the perfect gift to reaffirm his existence and Harleen’s whispery voice calling his name just ended up pushing him deeper and deeper. Where did he suddenly become so strong to hold on for so long? He’d never know.

Between moans and kisses, Harleen returned the passionate gestures with a strong, bloody scratch in his ribs. Arthur broke the kiss with a loud, pleased groan, responding to the scratch with a harsh thrust. Harleen screamed beneath him. Arthur, lightheaded by the sexually charged response, just stood still, trying to not give in to the already close peak of the act.

Harleen was ready to make clear how much the sudden irruption had upset her when she heard an unintelligible mumble.

"Uhh. What?" Harleen could hardly heard his petition.

"Do that again", he whispered. The frown on her eyebrows revealed how much puzzled she was.

"Do wha--?”

The harsh thrust took her by surprise, as expressed by the intoxicating sound that made Arthur so infatuated. As he delighted in the joy of obtaining exactly what he wanted, Harleen heard a a sweet, malevolent whisper:

"That’s better...". It ghosted his lips, more to himself. He supported entirely on his arms, to keep on the rough onslaught. Those screams were music to his ears and he had plenty of reasons on why he deserved to hear more of them when he believed she had something else to say.

The blonde mouthed. And Arthur read her lips.

(Harder)

Harleen placed her hands at the sides of her head, abandoning herself to Arthur‘s mercy. She wanted it? She would get it. Another plea gone with the air, an arm on the matress reinforcing the pace to make it rougher and rougher. She felt she was unable to speak his name anymore, not knowing what aroused her the most: if having him inside her or hearing his assiduous effort to breathe through the final and most exciting part of their act.

Exhaling aggressively, Arthur hung on to the mattress to harden the already brutal slamming that had reduced Harleen to an incoherent mess. His jaw dropped as the pleasure was becoming unbearable, growling as he leaned his head to keep closer to her. His arm was a key to maintain the disastrous rhythm as unrestrained but steady, grasping the wood which mattress was made of. The limb showed hard lines, ligaments standing out of the skin.

She legitimately thought, in a short moment of lucidity, that his arm would end up breaking it down. Neither of them heard a furious knocking on the wall, asking them to quiet down their sounds. Even if they did, they wouldn't care. Harleen sensed he'd love the idea of the whole building hearing their scandal.

When the excessive sensitivity down there traced a faint line between pain and pleasure, her moans echoed louder and louder, pushing Arthur to his limit.

“Look at me”

It was hard to keep eyes open at this point. Harleen did her best but Arthur mistook it as another little game of hers.

“Look at me”, he hissed.

She inhaled deeply, turning her head towards him.

“Look at me!” he yelled, desperate.

She quickly did as he demanded.

“Look at me when it happens”, he was not angry, despite the fierce, crazed stare suggested otherwise.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” he hissed under his breath, trying to keep up with the rampant search for release despite how much exhausting it proved to him. He wasn’t willing to be defeated: his hands fell to her sides to pound faster and more erratically, almost tearing the bedsheets. Harleen was unable to speak now, restricting to whimpers that granted him an inconmensurable feeling of power.

Then it happened. It caught him sooner than he initially had intended, but that didn't make it any less delightful. The blonde screamed his name at the top of her lungs as the spectacular orgasm hit her.

That was too much for him to bear.

One more enthusiastic, desperate thrust and it was over. Harleen had no control over her reaction, imprisoning him completely with her legs and arms crossed over his body. A hot attempt to retain her lover, clenching as hard as she could possibly do. They shared a fleeting gaze as he spilled himself in a wave of nervous, uncontrollable convulsions that spurred his nerves. She would never forget the expression that moulded by the moment: his face was an authentic, vivid expression of ecstasy. His eyes closed, catching air, sweating profusely, rebellious locks falling down. The desperation in his voice diminished to a pleasured groan to a exhausted, but satisfied series of sighs. He finally collapsed on top of her, hiding their faces in each other's neck.

“Easy…” she muttered while Arthur bathed in his newfound masculinity. She knew the magnitude of his enrapture when he displayed no reaction at all when she caressed his hair.

Arthur was enjoying his blissful release inside her, memorising every little sensation. The soft sighs escaping his mouth made her believe he had finally lost the little touch he had left with reality.

He still wanted more, though. Arthur refused to break the physical bond, not getting over the warmth narrowing around him, looking for more thrills, seed still dripping.

“You’re hard to quit” Arthur hissed, breathless.

“I'm not asking you to ”, and both laughed.

Harleen untangled a few curls, enjoying how they recoiled to their original form, emptiness replacing the fullness of his presence once he was gone. Laying on their sides to face each other, now under the blankets. The water falling in the sky helped them to concile slumber.

"I'll be hardly out of you after this, Harleen" was the last thing she heard before lights were off.

________________________________________

It was cold. It was wednesday and the train was full. Arthur had gone early to his weekly therapy with the social worker. Once he reached the building, waiting in the hallway. He smoked a cigarette, journal on the inner part of his hoodie, a confident smirk lining his lips.

The grimace did not change at all when he got into the office, greeting her and taking a seat. It started with the usual 'how's your job?', 'are you having negative thoughts?'. Arthur replied more confidently, without avoiding eye contact as he always did. The worker noted immediately a dark, evil glint in his eyes. He couldn't stop smiling just as he couldn't see how much his new attitude unsettled her. She decided to ask for his journal, asking if there was something wrong or different. Arthur just took another long drag of his cigarette, smiling to himself.

Once the copybook was handed to her, the worker noticed a brief, new sentence along a photograph of a beautiful young woman whose platinum hair showed different colours from the half down. She was dressed in a short red dress and smiled.

She read outloud the phrase written in red. Arthur had to suppress a cackle to not get too much attention from her. He deducted by her expression she did not understand it but he did not expect her to.

“I’m prod of mysel”.

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cozy-possum · 5 years ago

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So uhh reading @aquitainequeen post about daemon’s and the questions HDM universe brings up; I know one of the ever popular fan-fiction tropes for HDM crossovers is a “human shaped daemon” because apparently there’s nothing in book canon to suggest otherwise; either way I’m avoiding exam prep.

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TW: Self-harm, dark themes

Summary: When does self-love become self-harm

Her parents never give her any warnings; no scoldings about how a proper daemon should behave; she is young and so is her Victor; they are allowed to be as children should.

When she comes in from the park crying, Victor trailing after her miming her father’s daemon’s form they laugh and joke about how she’s daddy’s little girl. They eat dinner and by the time her mother brings the dessert in Victor has changed his loyalties to their mother.

When she hides Victor under her coat, and he shrinks to a field mouse in her pocket; do they talk to her about the bullies who make fun; how the oldest had a daemon that settled into a hunting dog, which is practically a real wolf so everyone listens to him. Her parents don’t confront them, just harshly insist the school keep a better watch on their daughter as well as the other students tat are joined as the bullies gain numbers.

The dance studio and the teachers daemon’s move as one would expect, controlled but almost floating in their beauty. Her dance teacher has a swan Daemon and the number of goslings, ducklings and cygnets that bumble around class falling over their webbing outnumber the dancers own trips.

Her parents are busy with work; they don’t notice her slipping into the back garden with Victor; she claims she’s going to climb the tree; to be fair it starts out that way; but then Victor lights the idea that she could move out of the yard by jumping to the other tree. She does; and the excitement, the rush allows Victors form to shift into a bird; she quiet likes him as a mockingbird; a soft gentle thing that lets his beak sing how she can’t. She leaps farther into the expanse of forest, playing that she and Victor are squirrels; red and vibrant in the dulling sunset. It takes her three more trees to realize how far away they are. It takes her less than turning to realize how easily her feet slip from under her; how the wind feels and how there is no crunching sound of bone. it is replaced by just a shifting; a scrape of something that is not meant to move and a panicked scream that almost bubbles from her lips as she nervous stands herself up.

“Victor?” She calls out nervously and tries to step hesitating before she can feel the faint pressure of him on her shoulder. She steps twice more before the shift happens again, flowing over her leg and crushing her body back to the ground. She offers a strangled sort of sob before pushing herself half up.

“This is so bad.” She mumbles to herself struggling up and dragging herself to the tree closest barely able to see her house, unable to call out as her body is shaking too much for her to even call Victors name again.

“ ‘s’okay; s’okay.” She closes her eyes and can feel Victor pressing himself against her cheek. She’s shaking and swallowing trying not to cry and trying to stand fully; knowing she can’t and knowing the forest holds worst things than the biting wind.

“I’ll get help; it’ll be okay I just-” She shakes her head and Victor sighs. She can feel Victor moving and doesn’t open her eyes until she can feel a hand nudging her shoulder. She jerks her eyes open, shifting backwards cringing as her leg threatens to give way again as she meets a figure who tilts his head at her.

“Victor?”

“I can carry you.” He mumbles picking her up gently. She doesn’t argue as she feels him running back towards home.

Her parents don’t speak for two days about how Victor doesn’t seem to change his form. She doesn’t confess how it feels right, how safe she feels. Victor doesn’t either despite the coos and faint threats from both mother and father’s daemons.

School is far worse; Victor finding that the tether they share seems almost non existent uses it to his advantage. he manages to move without touching anyone for weeks until her parents agree to homeschool her. Victor drinks the school books and teachings up like a sponge.

Friends are not a problem; can’t have them if you’re not exposed. Victor reminds her fingers braiding her hair and drumming softly over her shoulder. Her parents don’t bring up how close they are; Victor is her soul; they shakily refer to him as their son in public company, not that that stretches beyond the occasional doctor or visiting teacher for lessons.

Both her and Victor grow into the routine they have; Victor sneaks out more often than not bringing in newspapers and books he’s bought with money their father had given. She writes poetry about everything in the books and he mumbles it back to her between nervously holding her hand.

She doesn’t talk about the feelings she has; the feelings she pushes onto Victor for fear of her becoming the soul. She doesn’t talk of her family ignoring her treating her as something shameful; that Victor is better, her soul their preference for the child they have now split in two choices. She confesses one night, her parents asleep in separate rooms after yelling at each other. She cries how she doesn’t want to be them; Victor is there like he always is, arms around her and fingers braiding her hair. Assuring her they never will become them; they’re too special; too understanding of one another.

Her parents are fighting again; over something Victor, she had done, they do not speak of them as separate anymore. When Victor snarls, snapping his teeth and swearing everything she’d confessed that night, words tumbling over his frothing lips do they take a step back nervously waiting for her to joke, to confess it some silly game they were playing. Victor simply pushes her behind him and glares.

Her parents attempt to nudge them away, but they way their stomachs recoil at touching Victor how he hisses and sneers has them hesitating. They send them to bed without supper.

Victor starts small; mumbling the childhood fears she’d forgotten; large trees, the dark, the way the stairs creaked when her father went to bed after work. She shrinks back towards him; he’d protected her in the forest he will protect her now. It doesn’t take long for her to agree that her parents idea of home school was the best idea for both of them; how the few friends she would write to are regretfully informed she has moved and left no forwarding address.

It’s Victor who grounds her; Victor who keeps her safe. He saved her in the forest; he saves her now. She repeats this as he guides her through town, the crowds jostling and moving far too fast; she’s overwhelmed once more and Victor ducks into an alley holding her head against his chest until she calms.

His fingers brush down her back sliding under the warm coat she wears. She jerks squealing at how cold his hands are and he grins; the couple in the park bench across smiling at them. She doesn’t smile back hands drifting to her lap where she stares at them. Victor grins pressing his cheek against hers watching the puff of breath unfurl on the air.

They leave from the house separately. They eat and work separately. No one questions the timid girl with the hidden mouse daemon; so fitting they coo. Victor never speaks to the other workers; simply keeping his head down and avoiding the looks the Daemons give him. They return to their shared room and shared bed and everyone comments how devoted they are to each other, how much they complement the other; how they make the other whole. Victor just nods and lets his fingers braid through her hair as she talks about her day.

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#his dark materials #hdm #daemons #daemon #daemon au #witches #its been years since i read the books forgive me #writing #stattic

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lesbian-deadpool · 6 years ago

Text

So Much Better Than It Is Today

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

High school AU, Song fic: Paradise By The Dashboard Light

Words: 5,640

Warnings: A LOT of jump cuts, sexual themes, arguing, swearing, bad decisions, not my best work, a little angst. The ending is kinda fucking stupid. Not proof read.

Request: No. (It’s a challenge)

A/N: So this was for @flatbottomholland s challenge, but with me being, well me. I forgot about it. Cause I’m a hot ass mess. So here it is now. I hope you like it, it's not my best work, but I tried. Its 50′s themed, but with modern values. But not really, It's hard to explain. Just read it, and it should make sense... hopefully... Natasha’s a little OOC, but there's a reason for that. Originally written as FxF, but could totally be read by anyone.

Summary: You swore that you would love her until the end of time.

The cold night air streamed against the cherry red metal of the parked Chevy. Stars littered the black sky, the moon reflecting on the rippling waves.

"Sam did not do that!"

"No, he did. I was there," you said, nodding your head. "He was too busy flirting with the waiter, to notice Bucky drinking his milkshake." you chuckled the scene replaying in your head, acting it out to the best of your abilities for her. "Once he found out, he grabbed Bucky's milkshake. Y'know, to drink his instead. But, Bucky being Bucky, wouldn't let him have it. So they started this tug of war for the milkshake, ending with Sam pulling too hard, and splashing it all over the waiter he had been flirting with... and, so that's how Sam got kicked out of, Jarvis'."

Natasha laughed, "But, what about, Bucky?"

"He went home with the waiter. That's why they're not talking right now."

This caused Natasha's laughter to increase, doubling over in her seat. You following her lead.

"Hey, you know, Steve?" you asked.

"Yeah." she nodded, fully immersed in what you had to say. "The used to be skinny kid, turned jock-artist. What about him?"

"He was the waiter."

Joyous laughter poured from the lone car, parked by the vast lake. The smell of nature, and the sound of crickets leaking through the small crack of the open window.

Settling into easy conversation. You found yourself enjoying her company more than you had ever expected. No longer able to pay attention to what she was saying. Watching her face contort into many different expressions. Liking every single one of them. Thinking how lucky you were to be sat here right now.

(Nine hours ago)

You walked down the semi-crowded halls of your high school. Books in hand, backpack slung over your shoulder. Your eyes staring at your destination in front of you. To say you were nervous about what you were about to do would have been an understatement.

"Hey, Natasha." You got her attention, drawing her away from her friends. Your own watching you like halks from behind you. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure." She shrugged, following you to a clear part of the hall. One where neither your friends nor hers could hear you. "What's up?"

"Umm, so, I was wondering," you started, some of your nerves coming through your voice. Much to your dismay. You coughed, regaining some of your confidence. "I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me? No? Okay then." you replied for her. Turning on your spot, about to walk away from her. When she reached out and grabbed your elbow stopping you, turning you around to face her once again.

"Okay."

"O- Okay?!"

"I would love too," she clarified.

You looked at her like she had just grown another head. "Are you sure? This isn't some kind of joke is it?"

"No. It's not a joke. I really do want to you out with you." She rested her hand on your arm, giving it a comforting squeeze.

You were about to voice you joy, abruptly thinking, "You know I meant it as a date right?"

"Yes. As a date. I want to go out on a date with you," she said slowly.

"Oh, great." You beamed.

"So, when?"

"When what?" you asked, still slightly dazed out. Surprise still coursing through you from her agreeing to go out on a date with you.

"When are we going out on our date?" she chuckled. Her hand, not going unnoticed by you, as it travelled down your arm, grasping onto your hand softly.

"Oh, uh, tonight?"

"What time?"

"I'll uh, pick you up at eight?"

"Perfect, I just have to be home by eleven."

"You will be home by eleven, scouts honour," you promised, giving her a mock salute. Making he laugh. You smiled bright, at the fact that you had managed to make her laugh.

"Good. You can drive me home then?" she stated more than asked. Pulling you along by your hand, towards the exit of the school.

(Now)

You still felt the envy radiating in the air around you. Like you had hours ago as you walked from the school, people glaring at you. Jealous that you had somehow managed to get a date with the Natasha Romanoff.

Your hand gripped the wheel softly. Playing with the leather sewn onto it. You drifted back into the one-sided conversation in front of you. Music playing in the background of the warm car. Gazing happily at the red-head. As she animatedly spoke. And you just knew. You would remember this day for the rest of your life.

***

All of a sudden, you were in the back seat of your car. Slowly stripping each other's clothes from your lustful bodies. The soft lull of music playing in the background. Disrupted by the heavy breathing and panting pouring from both of your mouths.

Words had stopped being spoken a long time ago. Instead replaced by heated touches. Your bodies felt like they had been burned, where your fire hot hands had grazed one another's bodies. Similar to gripping tightly onto a red-hot knife. The burning hurt. But not as much as you craved each other's bodies. The craving hurt so much; you never knew of a pain so good, a feeling so right, like this one right now. You never knew that wanting something so much could cause so much pain. It shocked you to your core how much you liked it.

You pulled against each other. Tugging at the remnants of your clothes, hands caressing skin. Gasping heavily into each other's mouths.

"No no, stop," Natasha ordered, straightening up in her seat.

"Oh?!" You shot back, sitting back in your own seat. "Did... did I do something wrong?"

"No. No, you did nothing wrong. I just have to get home."

You glanced at the clock on your dashboard, as Natasha began putting her clothes back on, beside you. The clock showing the time was 10:40. Where had the time gone? Looking back to the now almost fully dressed girl beside you, you asked, "Are you sure you can't stay out any longer?"

"I'm sure. If I did, my parents would kill me... then you."

You nodded your head in understanding. "Well, then. Let's get you home." You slowly picked your clothes up off the floor and began to pull them on.

"Won't your parents go crazy if you don't get back on time?" Natasha asked as you both hopped out of the car, and into the cold night air. Moving to the front seats. This way being easier than climbing over them like you did when you first tumbled into the back seat.

"No."

"How come?"

"Mother's dead. Farther's off fighting some war. I live with my senile grandparents, that go to bed at Five pm," you listed off.

"Oh, I'm sorry about your mother." Natasha caressed your arm, in a comforting manner.

"It's fine. I didn't know her." At this, Natasha shot you a look of confusion, silently asking you to explain. "She died giving birth to me."

Natasha took a deep breath, debating whether or not she should apologise for your loss again or not. Knowing that it wouldn't help. Watching as you began driving back to her house. Instead, she tried to lighten the mood. "Well, you must be proud of your father."

"I would be if he hadn't abandoned me when I was born and didn't blame me for my mother's death," you replied. "I don't know why I'm telling you all of this."

"You must like me," she tried again, a hopeful smile on her face. Both optimistic that it would lighten the mood, and that you dod in fact like her.

"Must do." You smiled back.

***

"Grams, Gramps!" you called out to your sleeping grandparents. Knowing full well they were both fast asleep, and wouldn't wake up with your yelling. Throwing your key's into the bowl sat on the small table by the door, a small pile of mail stacked up next to it.

You shuffled through the few letters that were addressed to you, as you continued talking. "How was your day? My day was good. Just got back from the date." You walked into the kitchen, ready to eat some leftovers. "You know the one I told you about when I got back from school? The one with the girl I like? Yeah, it went well. Just dropped her off now. We almost had sex. Remind me not to tell you that tomorrow, when you're actually awake."

Laying in bey, belly and brain full. Leftovers filled your stomach. Thoughts crammed into your mind. A smile on your face, as you thought about the previous few hours you had spent with Natasha.

Little did you know, she was doing the exact same thing.

Natasha crept into her house, hoping not to wake her parents. A light flickered on to her side. Startling her, and making her look to her right so fast that she thought she had just given herself whiplash. Her eyes wide with shock, as she looked at her father.

"I'm back on time." She pointed a finger at him.

He chuckled, "You are. I just wanted to know how your date went."

"It went well."

"I can see that," he said, a teasing smile on his face.

She looked at him confused. "What?"

"Your shirt's buttoned up wrong." He nodded to the white shirt she wore, one side longer than the other, thanks to the missed buttons.

"We didn't do anything."

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure you learned how to dress yourself when you were six."

She exhaled harshly, not wanting to have this conversation with him. "We didn't have sex." She bit the bullet.

"I know. We raised you well." Walking up to Natasha, he threw his arm over her shoulder and began leading her up the stairs. "But don't tell your mother." he gestured to her dishevelled appearance. "She'll rip your heart right out. And the poor souls you spent your night with."

"Oh yeah." She nodded.

"So. Do you like them?"

"I do, dad. I really do."

"Good. Remember, don't-"

Natasha stopped, turning her back to her bedroom door. "Don't let them take advantage of me. I know dad."

He smiled. "Good night," he said placing a kiss on his daughter's forehead.

"Night, dad."

Now here she lay, in bed, her thoughts plagued by you.

Glancing over to the side of your beds, you both suddenly felt lonely. Shrugging your blankets further up your bodies. Trying to replace the warmth the other had provided. Slowly falling into a peaceful sleep. Dreaming of your previous date, illuminated by the dashboard light.

***

Over the next few months, it happened again and again. You would go out on dates, sometimes just going out for a drive around town. But you always ended up fooling around. Either in the back of your car, in one of your bedrooms, one of your living rooms. Yours mainly. And once in the school parking lot. Which made your friends, Tony, Bucky, and Sam. Whistle and hoot at you two. That had been two months into your relationship. That's how everyone found out you were actually dating.

During those months, you were barely dressed when you were alone together. But never going any further than fooling around. Which to be honest, you were getting kind of antsy about. You had both talked about having sex, agreeing to wait until the right time. But you were starting to get frustrated with the wait.

You were parked in an empty parking lot. Getting all hot and heavy with Natasha in the back seat of your car.

Your hand started you travel further up her body, aiming for her breasts.

"Alright, stop. Stop. Stop," Natasha said pushing you off of her.

You slammed back into the seat next to her, huffing out a breath. As she shrugged her discarded clothes.

"Don't be like that," she uttered.

"Don't be like what?"

"Like that," she gestured to you. "All moody cause I told you to stop."

"It's not because you told me to stop-"

"Then what is it?"

"It's not because," you started again, your voice hard, causing her to roll her eyes, "You told me to stop. I don't care that you told me to stop, I'm fine with that. I'll stop if you want me to," You sighed. "It's just that I'd like to know if it's ever gonna happen."

"Of course it is."

"Then when? Cause truthily, I'm getting a little impatient. I'm fine with waiting. I'd just like to know."

"When you love me." She pushed her hair over her shoulder, beginning to button up her shirt.

"How do you know I don't? Do you not know how I feel about you? Sometimes I think that my heart's gonna drown out the radio with how fast it's beating."

"That doesn't prove anything," she commented.

"Then how do you expect me to prove it?!"

"Say it." Natasha turned to you, face hard.

"Say what?"

"Say that you love me."

"How do I know you love me?"

"Do not turn this around on me," she scolded, pointing her finger at you.

"You leaned towards her, resting your atm on the back of the seat. "Baby, listen. We've been together for four months. I do live you. And that's why I want to sleep with you. But if you don't want to sleep with me, that's fine. I just wanna make sure we're on the same page here."

"Just take me home," she muttered.

"But, Natasha-"

"Now, Y/N," she demanded.

You huffed, "Fine."

***

Your eyes moved around, taking in Natasha's form in front of you. From your spot sat next to her, in 'Jarvis' Milkshake Emporium'. Watching her plump lips move as she spoke. Your eyes found their way to her red hair, it trailing down over her shoulders. All except for one lone strand of hair. You lifted your arm from where it rested on the back of the pink and white leather seat of your booth. Moving to brush the piece of hair back over her shoulder, your hand coming up to cup her soft cheek.

Natasha cooed, leaning into your touch, her eyes flickering shut. A small hum escaping through her closed lips.

She slowly opened her eyes. Admiration for you pouring out of them. As you rubbed your thumb over the soft skin of her cheek.

"You've gotta stop doing that," she whispered.

"Doing what?"

"Doing things that make me want to kiss you."

"And what's so wrong with that?" you asked leaning in closer to her. "I thought you liked kissing me?"

"I do." She inched closer.

"Then why don't you?" She answered your question with a passionate kiss. Wrapping an arm around your neck pulling herself into you. Sliding a leg over yours, as her free hand came up lightly touching your cheek.

You wrapped your hands around her, tugging her further into you. Leaving hardily any space left between you. You pulled apart leaning your forehead against hers.

"Ahem," a cough spurred you away from your intimate moment with Natasha. Turning around to look at Tony and Rhodey, the two boys sat opposite you. Both of them smirking as you and Natasha wiped your mouths.

"Sorry about that," you cleared your throat.

"Are you sure you don't want us to leave?" Tony smiled mischievously. "Give you two some privacy?"

"You can talk."

You barked out a laugh at Natasha's response. Remembering all the times they had been less than family friendly in front of you.

"Are you folks all finished here?" You looked up to a smiling Steve Rogers. A dish bucket in his arm. Pointing to your empty plates and glasses.

"Um, yeah. Thanks, Steve," you said.

"It's cool. So, you want the bill?"

"Yeah," Rhodey replied, "We really should be heading back."

"Yeah, they need some privacy," you told Steve, who chuckled in response.

Steve hummed, "Good. We don't need Jarvis busting a blood vessel, cause you can't keep it in your pants."

"Hey!" Tony yelled, gesturing an arm towards you and Natasha. "They're the ones who just had a make-out session in front of us."

"And yet, you're so much worse. It's like your sex drive, is a permanently running motor," Steve commented. Turning to walk away with Tony screeching after him.

Three weeks later, you ended up back at the lake you shared your first date. The sun setting low over the forest that surrounded the lake. Leaving a warm glow on everything it touched.

It had never felt like this before. Your kisses were slower than usual but no less heated. If anything they were more desperate than ever before. Your hands held onto her waist, as you hovered above where she lay on the seats. Red hair sprawled out over the cherry red leather below her. Her hands fisted into your work shirt, pulling against it, keeping you as close to her as possible. One of her legs thrown over your side, calf resting on your back.

"God, I love you," you told her, speaking over the low hum of the baseball game coming from your radio. Mouth never leaving hers.

"I love you, too," she whispered back, voice lustful.

You had talked about this. Agreed on it. But you were still hesitant. Just in case it was all swept away once again. After your fight that day two weeks ago, you both had a long discussion about your feelings and what not. She told you that she did want to go all the way with you. And she knew you wanted the same. The only thing holding her back was that she wanted you to love her, which you told her you did. And she loved you too. She was just so unsure of your love for her. She knew how attractive she was, and she knew anybody could lie to her for one night in the sack. It wasn't that she didn't trust you. She did. She merely wasn't interested in setting her heart up for heartbreak. But you had reassured her that she had nothing to worry about. Telling her that you would never purposely break her heart. It meant too much to you, to do that to her. Which lead you two here. In the back seat of your car, like the many other times. This time both in full agreement, that tonight was the night.

Your deep kissing had continued, once you had uttered your love confessions.

Your hands pushed up her shirt, fingertips caressing the soft skin underneath.

"OK, here we go," the commentator spoke. You and Natasha too engulfed in one another to even register his voice. Your hand's travelling around her waist, to hold her lower back. You used your leverage and pulled the lower half of her body into yours. Making her let out a lustful moan into your open mouth.

"There's the windup, and there it is."

Braking away, you panted on each other's lips. Staring intensely into each other's eyes. Your chests rising and falling with your rapid intake of air. Her arms were now reaped around your neck, hands deep into your hair, nails grazing your scalp. Natasha's eyes were dark, so blown out that you could barely see her bright green irises. Your hands slid slowly up her back. Never breaking eye contact, as you reached her bra, swiftly unclasping it. Natasha attached your lips once again, as she pulled your work shirt from your body. Manoeuvring you onto your back so that she was now straddling you. Only breaking your kiss when she reached under her shirt and pulled her bra from her body. Throwing you a mischievous smirk, before pouncing on your lips once again.

"Turning it on now, he's not letting up at all, he's gonna try for Second." Your hands slid up Natasha's soft skin, coming to a stop just under her breasts. "He's gonna slide in head first, here he comes, he's out!" She nodded to you that it was okay, unbreaking the kiss. With her nod of approval, you gingerly moved your palms up and cupped her breasts. "No, wait, safe - safe at second base, this kid really makes things happen out there."

Natasha sat up and began slowly unbuttoning her shirt. Leaving it wide open, but still obscuring the majority of her breasts. A groan erupted, from your throat, as you ogled at her. The close to animalistic sound coming from somewhere deep in your stomach. She smirked at you, eyes lustful, as she ran the pad of her thumb over your slightly parted lips. Leaning over, you attached your lips. The kiss on the verge of turning into something faster and more wanting. As Natasha gripped the chest of your T-shirt in her hands, tugging it up and over your head.

You sat up, Natasha still seated in your lap. Your lips unrelenting, as you manoeuvred, so your hand pressed gently into her body. Fingers tickling the top of her stomach. As your hand lingeringly moving down her body, gradually easing its way down to her core.

"He's trying for third, here's the throw." Further and further down your hand went. And with it, the antsier Natasha got for your touch. Her breathing quickening. Her fingers gripped the top of your shoulders, as she moves forwards and backwards slightly. Your hand slipped down the waistline of her pants, making their way into her panties. Lower and lower it went. Natasha threw her head back, letting out a low groan. Before making her way back to your lips, sucking n them with a fiery passion. Your hand inched closer and closer to her entrance. Closer. Closer. And closer still. Before... "It's in the dirt-safe at third! Holy cow, stolen base! He's taking a pretty big lead out there, almost daring him to try and pick him off."

You glanced down Natasha's shining body, as she moaned quietly. Carefully laying her back down in front of you so that you could lean over her. You started peppering kisses over her chest. Trailing them down her body, over her stomach, and to the place you knew would make her scream.

"Base line, the suicide squeeze is on!"

You kissed the only showing skin above her pants, as you began unbuttoning them. Peering up to her, you smirked into her skin. She was melting underneath you, her head thrown back, and panting. You focused again on your task at hand. "Holy cow, I think he's gonna make it!"

"Stop!" Natasha yelled, sitting up abruptly. Causing you to fly back, and into the window, your hands sprawled out, holding onto whatever of the car you could. As fear rippled inside of you, at her sudden outburst.

"What?" you asked, your voice soft, hoping to death that you didn't do something to hurt her.

"I just want to know, before we go any further. Do you love me?"

Ugh, this again. She was like a broken record. "Yes. I love you."

"That's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?"

"Will you love me forever? Will you never leave me? Will you marry me?"

"What?!" You looked at her like she had just grown an extra head. "Natasha, we've only been going out for like five months."

"I know that. I'm not asking you to marry me, you idiot. I'm asking will you marry me someday? I have to know."

"I... I don't know."

"See. That's exactly why I've been stopping you all these months."

"You can't just expect me to know if you're the one, Natasha!"

"That's why I want you to wait! So that I can experience this with someone one who wants to spend the rest of their life with me."

"Then why didn't you just say that?!"

"I don't know," she muttered quietly. Buttoning up her clothes.

"What?"

"I said, I don't know!" she yelled, shocking you with her outburst. Turning to you, she glared slightly. "I don't know. I'm just so confused, I know what I want. I want love. True and unconditional love. I'm in two minds." She held out her hands, looking at them. Showing you the two invisible separate sides of her brain. "In one of them, I want to do this with you. I want to do this with you so badly. But in the other. I want to wait. I want to make sure you'll be with me forever. That you'll never leave me. That you'll make me your wife." She looked at you. "But I don't know which to choose."

"That's a lie. You know exactly which one to choose. You can wait. And I accept that. I just wish you didn't lie to me."

"I'm not lying to you! I do want this!"

"Then why don't you?!"

"Because I want you to love me!"

"I do love you!"

"Then prove it!"

"How am I supposed to do that?!"

"Figure it out. I can't give you all the answers. This one you have to find out yourself." And with that, she slammed the door of your car and began her walk back home.

You jumped out of the car, hastily grabbing your work shirt and shrugging it on. Chasing after Natasha.

"Wait, Natasha. Wait." You grabbed her elbow. Causing her to spin on her heal, facing you.

"Tell me."

"What?" you asked shaking your head confused.

"Tell me if you want to be with me for my life."

"Let me think about it."

"Tell me."

"Baby, Let me sleep on it," you practically bagged.

"Yes?! Or no?!"

"Let me sleep on it!" you were both beginning to lose your tempers now.

"I can wait here all night! So, tell me. Yes? Or no?"

"Let me sleep on it!"

"Will you love me forever?!"

"I'll tell you in the morning!" you raged at her.

***

That night you laid in bed, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Your mind going round and round in circles. You could practically hear the words of your father, his hard voice, ringing through your head.

"Sex-crazed fool, thinks they're in love. Doesn't even know what love is." He would say. "Think of how your mother would react." If he were here right now, he would be barking it at you. Standing tall in his military uniform. Your imagination making him taller than he would be. Which makes sense, cause the last time you had seen him was when you were eight.

But, he wasn't here. And neither was your mother. The only people you had were your grandparents. Who were kind enough to let you live with them, while your father served his country. Too busy to visit you. For ten years he had been too busy.

"If you love her so much, why don't you just tell her?"

Sitting up, startled by the voice by your door. You turned to peer at your grandmother. Who had a small knowing smile on her face.

"Gram? What are you doing awake?"

"I could hear your thoughts. You have a restless mind," she said shuffling over to you, in her nightdress and slippers. Sitting at the edge of your bed. That's what she always said. That she could 'hear your thoughts'. Which was fairly true. She could always tell when something was on your mind.

"I've already told her."

"Then what's the problem?" She raised her hands in bewilderment.

"The problem is," you started, pausing as you tried to find the right words, "I want to take our relationship further-"

"Ahh." She threw her head back. "You want to sleep with her."

"Yeah." You nodded. You were starting to feel uncomfortable now. But you knew she would not leave until you told her what was wrong. "But, she wants proof that I love her."

She hummed at your situation, "I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"Have any suggestions?"

"Nope," she said patting your shoulder, before gripping it using it to help her back onto her feet. "This you have to figure out yourself." And with that, she shuffled back out of your room.

You there your body back, head landing on the soft pillow, muttering, "Thanks for the help, Grams."

***

Here you were again, two weeks later, sitting in your regular booth in Jarvis'.

That's when it hit you. And oh boy, did it hit you. It hit you like a tidal wave. The feeling of utmost love. You were prepared to swear on heaven and hell, every God and goddess that existed, hell even your mothers grave. That you would love this laughing girl in front of you, until the end of time.

"Marry me." It had just fallen out. You shocked yourself when you had said it, mirroring the shock that covered Natasha's face.

"What?"

"Yeah," you affirmed nodding. "Marry me. Why not?"

"Because we're eighteen, and have only been dating for six months," she deadpanned.

"So? My grandparents were seventeen when they got married and they'd only known each other for two weeks. They're still happily married."

Natasha laughed, "You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

You nodded. "I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I promise I will love you until the end of time. And you know I don't break my promises," you tried convincing her, leaning closer to her over the table. "Don't you wanna marry me?"

"Okay." She smiled, her hair moving as she nodded slowly.

"Okay?"

"Okay. Let's get married."

***

That was ten years ago. You remembered the joy it filled you with, the way you had run out of Jarvis' with her and had gotten married to her the next hour. You had both got what you waited for that night, and then started the rest of your life together.

And now here you were, ten years later, regretting everything from that stupid stupid day. If you could turn back time, you would. You had changed over time. So had she. You began slowly falling out of you teenage love. And into resentment. Natasha still loved you, however, just like she did all those years ago. You had thought about getting a divorce, many times in fact. But you had vowed and promised her that you would love her until the end of time, that you would always be there, that you would never break her heart. And you never broke your promises.

So now you were here, in your small suburban house. Waiting for the end of time. So that you could end your time with her.

Maybe things would get better.

Maybe you could try counselling.

Maybe...

(Alternative ending. Ha! Bitch you thought! I need to have happy endings.)

"And, Cut!" Phil Colson, or as everyone called him, Mr C, called out. The group of kids standing on the stage snapping out of their personas. Some walking to their friends, others beginning their descent from the stage. As Mr C continued, "Good job out there! You're gonna knock it outta the ballpark on Wednesday!"

Principle Fury walked up behind him, them starting an animated conversation.

"Hey, Mr C," Clint Barton called out, hopping from the stage. Interrupting His and Fury's conversation. "Can I talk to you about something?"

You took a deep breath and ran a hand through your 50's styled hair, glancing around, from your position on the stage. Eyes glancing at the small group of people in front of you, talking away happily, before your eyes caught the redhead walking from the stage.

"I can't believe he wrote his own play," Tony noted, stuffing his hands into his jacket.

"You gotta admit though, it's not half bad," Steve defended.

"Yeah. Mr C is good at this kinda stuff," Tony agreed.

"Plus this gives us extra credit," Bruce said.

"Yeah, Buck needs that." Steve nodded to a now insulted Bucky.

"Shut your whore mouth, Steve," he replied.

You turned to follow Natasha, hoving to have a quick chat with her, as Wanda walked up to the talking boys.

"I still can't believe Fury said yes to this."

"Said yes?!" Tony asked, "Do you know how happy he was when Mr C asked him if he could do this?"

"Well, that's unexpected," Wanda muttered.

You hopped the last few steps, calling out to Natasha as you did.

"Hey, Nat!" She turned to face you, eyebrows shooting up in a silent question, as to why you stopped her. "Are we still going out tonight?"

"Yeah." She nodded, Pick me up at seven?"

"Definitely."

"Don't be late."

"I wouldn't dream of it," you said continuing to walk with her, out of the auditorium.

Just as you were passing where Mr C, Fury, and Clint were converting excitedly. The small freshman named Peter Parker, who Mr C had recruited to be his assistant, moved from his spot standing awkwardly behind Mr C and had taken a few steps towards you.

"Hey, good job."

"Thanks, kid," You replied, smiling at the awkward boy.

As you walked down the bright hallway, you spotted the two infamous Odinson brothers, bickering by the water dispenser. Also decked out from top to bottom in 50's gear.

"Remember, Mom, said we need to clean our room when we get home," Thor said.

"If I remember correctly. It was just you, who had to clean {your} side of the room."

"Would you please just help me?!"

You snickered at the brothers quarrelling, catching Natasha's attention. She threw you a small smile, taking you by the hand and dragging you from the school.

Well, all in all, you could say that you weren't gonna end up like that play.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #black widow #marvel #MCU #original fanfiction #flatbottomhollandchallenge

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carnationwrites · 5 years ago

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11/11/11 Tag Game

I was tagged by @bonafidealchemy! Thank you!!!!

1. How would you pitch your wip to someone who knew nothing about it?

I usually say something along the lines of:

“It follows two cousins who live in a society of people with nature-based powers”

2. Do you have a specific audience in mind for your wip?

Nah man. There’s a lot of swearing and some dark themes (cause war) but that’s more of a rating than an audience thing

3. Is it important to you that your wip has a moral or a message?

Umm... kinda?? I like to pose questions in my work, but I don’t often answer them, you know? I want to bring up important issues issues and stuff, but sometimes I don’t have solutions to the bad, I just want people to take notice of the bad.

4. What kinds of relationships do you like writing the most (romantic, platonic, familial, etc)?

PLATONIC ALL THE WAY

5. What kind of research have you done for your wip? what have you learned?

Hmm. A lot of my research went into translating different words into Urdu and constructing my government in a way that made sense.

I also did my due diligence to make injuries believable. A lot of what I learned was about the symptoms of organ failure so 😂

6. If your wip became very successful, would you want to make a movie adaptation? why or why not?

YEAH I WOULD. I mean, but that’s only if I got to play Hylla, because most of the stories I write have that one character that I want to play DO BAD

7. Did you have any alternate title ideas for your wip? if so, what are they?

Not really. Epic was honestly just kind of a placeholder because it reminded me of that animated movie of the same name and even though as the story developed it drifted farther away from that movie, I felt like the name had grown on me, so I kept it

8. What has been the hardest part about writing your wip so far?

Putting together the pieces that I came up with in the past and my current writing style. I came up with this idea almost 3 years ago, but I didn’t write much then, so I only put bits and pieces down on paper. When I remembered it and decided I wanted to actually turn it into a fully fledged story, I brought out all the little things I had thought about forever ago and tried to fit it into a coherent plot.

9. Do you prefer writing action or description?

Neither???? I’m a dialogue writer all the way. But between those two, I’d rather write description. I find it hard to find balance between too much description and not enough description of what’s going on in action scenes.

10. What do you want your readers to come away with after reading your story?

Don’t panic when you don’t know what to do about something. Sometimes problems arise and you don’t have a solution, so just follow the problem along and worry about how to get rid of it when there are options posed.

11. What’s your favorite part about your wip? what makes you excited to write it?

My favorite part is really developing the different relationships between characters. I love writing those parts because it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and I think of my amazing friends and family and the amazing friends I’ll make along the way and stuff

My questions are:

1. Which of your ocs is most like you? Which one is the least like you?

2. Do you prefer writing original fiction or fanfiction (if you do both)?

3. What is your favorite line that you have written?

4. Have any your original works been influenced by other tv shows/movies/books? If so, which ones?

5. What is your method to get over writers block?

6. What is one song that represents your current wip?

7. What POV do you prefer to write in?

8. Do you write everything in chronological order, or do you write separate scenes and put them all together?

9. Do you prefer to read books in a series or standalone books?

10. When did you start writing?

11. Is there a book that you read all the way through, then ended up disliking?

Tags: @odpadkywriter, @aslanwrites, @typewrxter, @writersung, @short-n-simple, @fairy-tale-king, @yearlyaquariace (no pressure for you guys to do this! Especially those of you who have already done it before!)

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oohfluffy · 6 years ago

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LMN Ch.1 | OSH

Group: EXO

Member: Oh Sehun

Theme: Angst | Fluff | Writer!AU | Neighbor!AU

Word Count: 2,318

✎ Chapter 1: Endings ✎

Fresh red petals fell from above as the box that carries his once brightest star, now gets buried several feet from below the ground, dimming its light as it gets farther down.

And she's gone.

His tears couldn't bring her back. His prayers wouldn't get answered despite his faithfulness. His heart wouldn't ever be fixed since the only one who can put every pieces of it is now gone.

He should've made every second worth it before she's out of his grasp.

He should've made sure she heard his 'I love you's a billion times before she closed her eyes into a deep sleep.

He should've made everything perfect that day when he asked her to be his girlfriend since he ended up ruining everything.

He was a jerk to her at first, he admits that.

But he truly loved her.

It was just too late before they both realized—

They can't be.

It was too late for regrets.

Only memories will remain.

But he knows he will always be the same.

Loving her will be his greatest achievement in life.

"SERIOUSLY, NOONA?!"

You almost jumped out of your seat, turning your swivel chair with a hand on your chest.

"I just fucking read the ending of your recent story! Did you seriously need to let her die?!"

"Watch your words, Yeol." You rolled your eyes as Chanyeol's legs gave up, looking at you with sorrowful eyes. You pushed your eyeglasses up as you stared at him. "Get out if you're just gonna rant about the ending of MY story." You turned your back on your younger brother and continued planning your next story.

You're an amateur writer, 25 years old, already wrote 3 best-selling books but unfortunately they're all—

"All of your books has sad endings! Don't you have a heart, noona?!"

You scratched the back of your neck as you can't concentrate with your work.

"Just go and study. You have classes tomorrow."

"Can you promise me one thing?"

Your eyebrows shot up as Chanyeol's pleading voice rang through your ears.

"What?"

"Please make a happy ending for your next story, noona. Please."

Chanyeol reads every book you publish, may it be online or the hardcopy one. You can say that he's your number one fan. Obviously, he's a book lover. He only started becoming one when you became a writer. Such a good dongsaeng he is, right?

You sighed.

This was the 4th time he's asking you for a happy ending.

"I told you, I can't—"

"Why though? Is it because you broke up with your boyfriend?"

"Yeol, you know that's not the reason behind our break-up."

You turned to him again, speaking with your eyes as you saw him pout in defeat. He stood up and walked towards you. You followed his movements and closed your eyes as he landed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Okay, I won't ask anymore. Sorry for startling you earlier, noona. I was just carried away. You know how your stories affect me." You chuckled as Chanyeol hugged you like a kid to his mom. You patted his head with a smile. "I'll always be your number one fan, noona."

"Mmm. Please do." You hummed as you squeezed him tighter.

"Your heartbeat really calms me, noona."

"Perhaps because it might stop any minute—"

"Yah! That was—"

"Shush." You gently pulled him away, flicking his forehead as he stood up. "You have exams tomorrow, right? You should study not—"

"Ne, ne. I will, noona! If I get on the top 5 for this semester, you'll make a happy ending for your next story, okay?"

With your younger brother's big eyes, big ears, reddish cheeks and cute grin, you nodded with a sigh.

He's 19 and in the 2nd year of studying Architecture in EXO university but he's still a kid to you.

"Fine, fine. I will try."

"Don't just try!"

You literally pushed him out of your room and closed the door since he won't stop talking.

Chanyeol's right though.

Your endings always have a rainy day, much to Chanyeol's chagrin.

It will always start with light-going events to the romantic scene of the main characters to the arrival of the conflict and then to the tragic death of the female character.

It always leaves the boy alone.

Broken.

"Back to work." You muttered to yourself as you sat down on your swivel chair and faced your laptop again. Your eyes focused on the screen as you typed the title of your new book.

| Love Me |

Your eyebrow scrunched together as you stared at the words.

"It's too common." You pressed the backspace bar as you bit your lip in concentration. "I should probably complete my plot first. Yeah. I'll do that."

You leaned back on your swivel chair and glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall in front of you. A picture of your family was taped beside it, making your lips curl up into a smile.

Your eyes drifted back to the calendar.

Today's November 20.

"4 months left." You whispered as you closed your eyes, resting them for awhile. "I'll finish the book before that."

I promise.

"Let's start brainstorming then."

You shut your eyes open with a motivated grin and quickly clicked Microsoft Word to begin writing.

"I can do this!"

✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ ✘

"Dasom, I can't do this."

She just scoffed as she let herself fall on your bed.

"This is not the first time you've said that and still ending up being the best author of the year. Stop kidding around, Park Yeoreum." Dasom closed her eyes as you continued staring at your laptop with an empty notepad.

"I swear! This is the first time I've ever been hit with a hard mind-block! I can't even think of a nice plot!" You groaned as you lightly bumped your head on your desk in frustration. "I'm going down!"

"You're being annoying, you know. Just clear your mind first. Relax for a week or something before diving into the world of your dark fantasies, my friend. Your books suck."

"My readers love my books, Dasom. They don't suck."

"Bad endings suck! Did you even think of your readers' hearts? I think they always break whenever they read your books."

You huffed as you turned to her.

"Happy endings don't happen unless you die with a happy life. My books contain all the truth you should know about life, not just sickeningly sweet romance that you can't ever have in life forever. Everything's bound to be broken and fixed." You looked up as you played with a toy of a fluffy white puppy. "It's just sometimes we don't know how to bring the pieces back together, that's why we end up crying and sad until the end. Life goes on whatever happens. You shouldn't get caught up with your broken heart and focus on moving forward instead."

"That's always the moral lesson in my mind whenever I finish a story." You smiled at the stuff toy in your hands.

"No wonder you're a great author. You say wonderful words." Dasom sat up straight, eyes wide open as she gapped at you.

You laughed at her comment.

"You'll come up with something, trust me." She shrugged.

"Thanks." You put down the stuff toy back on your desk. "Where are your younger sisters, by the way?"

"They're downstairs with your own sister. Probably gossiping about their crushes in college. Those girls really." Dasom shook her head as she stood up and walked towards you. She suddenly has a soft and worried expression on her face.

"I know that look." You looked back at your laptop and avoided her stare.

"I'm just worried. You know you can always count on me, okay?"

Your eyes went down on your keyboard as they slightly burned. You brought your hand to your chest, feeling the normal beats of your heart.

"There's nothing to worry about, Dasom. Everything will be fine."

You heard her sigh in defeat as she opened the door.

"Just call me if you need anything, okay?"

You hummed in reply, not bothering to look back at her as she stared at your back. With the last sigh released, she went out and close the door.

"Time's running, Yeoreum. Think fast." You mumbled as you opened a notebook before getting a black pen from your pencil case.

"We can start with the characters. Their traits, hobbies, relationships, etcetera." You scribbled on your notebook as your mind slowly started working. "Settings."

You smiled as you almost filled the page with writings.

"Main conflict..."

And you're back to none.

"Shit." You slumped on your chair as you cursed. "What the heck is the conflict now?"

You groaned as you stared at your notebook.

"Help me." You mumbled as you looked up on the ceiling.

A knock on your door interrupted you, making you grunt in response.

"Unnie, dinner's ready." Chanhee, your youngest dongsaeng, called out as she slowly opened your door. "Are you busy?"

"No, I, uh..." You sat up straight as you closed your notebook. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Okay then! Don't stress yourself out, okay?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Dasom unnie already went home with Bora and Soyu. They said goodbye to me for you too."

"Is that so?"

"Yep! Come down, okay?"

You looked at the door as it closed.

"I think I need a break for awhile."

"Bye, noona!"

Chanyeol waved his hand as he went out of the house, leaving you with your parents and Chanhee at the table.

"He's still at that convenience store?" You asked, grabbing a glass of water.

"It's a good thing for us. Your brother's so enthusiastic about helping in our family's needs. Even Chanhee's working part-time in that ice-cream store near their school." Your mother said as she smiled at you.

"If you're all doing this so I can—"

"Stop now." Your father's stern voice echoed the room. "Just finish eating and go back to your room. Let your sister do the rest."

"I'm not a disabled person, dad. I can wash the dishes for this night—"

"You're disobeying me now, Yeoreum?"

You felt your father's hard stare, making you land your sight on your plate.

"N-No. I just want to help like before—"

"The only thing you can do is to listen to what I say and stay in your room."

You harshly dropped your glass, making Chanhee jump from her seat beside you. You stood up and walked upstairs without a word.

"Yeoreum, darling." Your mother's soothing voice called out as she stood up. But then the thud of your door made her sit back down. "Why can't you control your temper for once, In Sung?!"

"She won't back down if I go easy on her, Ga-in. You know how hard-headed she is. She's already an adult that can make her own choices but for her condition—"

"I understand your point but you'll hurt her in the process!"

"I-I'll go start washing the dishes."

As Chanhee spoke softly, it made the couple shut their mouths.

"I'm sorry, Chanhee—"

"It's fine to talk about unnie's condition because you're both worried, but please stop fighting. She won't be happy with it."

In Sung and Ga-in looked at each other as the youngest of their children went to the sink, leaving them speechless.

✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗

"Just give me a little bit of inspiration, please." You mumbled as you wrote on your notebook again.

It was the third day of your empty page in your laptop. It was depressing to see.

"Noona?"

"Yeah, come in."

As Chanyeol went inside your room, your eyes remained on your notebook. He peeked at what you're writing and gasped.

"What?" You turned to him with an eyebrow raised.

"You're writing!" His fanboy feels started attacking him again, making you roll your eyes.

"Duh." You huffed, turning back to your notebook. "Fuck, yeol. You ruined it!"

"I didn't do anyth—"

"You distracted me, now my mind's blank!"

Chanyeol jutted his lower lip as he stared at you.

"Sorry."

"What are you doing here anyway?" You groaned as you rested your head on your hands placed on the desk. "You're not here to rant about the ending again, are you?"

"No, no! I'm just here to inform you something."

"What is it?"

"My best friend will be moving in the house next door. He's taking Architecture too! Everyone loves him like he's a god or something—"

"Why do I need to know this?" You lazily replied, looking at your window that shows another window of the house next door.

"Well, Chanhee's excited to meet him. You know how stupid she is when it comes to college boys. Sehun's a jerk though, so she shouldn't." Chanyeol said as he walked towards your bed, lying down as if he owned it. "I don't even know how we stayed as friends. He's a good guy but a playboy. He enjoys wrapping all the girls around his fingers. I think he even sleeps around. I tried talking to him about his ways but he's a hard-headed person like you. So I gave up and just let him do whatever he wants since he's handsome and smart. And--"

All of Chanyeol's words was taken in by your brain, making it start working like a machine. Your head shot up as you opened your notebook and wrote the ideas you suddenly have.

"You're a fucking genius, Yeol! I love you!"

Your younger brother just stared cluelessly at your smiling face as you wrote on your notebook.

"What? Did I say something awesome?" Chanyeol scratched the back of his head with a confused expression but suddenly grinned. "Whatever. As long as I can help!"

Yep, you did help.

—

❥ Ch.2

#exo #exo x you #exo x reader #exo fluff #exo fanfics #exo fanfiction #exo angst #sehun #sehun x reader #sehun x you #sehun fluff #sehun angst #chanyeol #sehun x oc

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keener-esme · 6 years ago

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the luxury of loneliness

ft: zig novak & esme song description: after frankie’s anonymous text forces her to reveal some of esme’s reckless activities, zig comes to her house in the middle of the night to check on her. date: february 14th location: esme’s house tw: mentions of drug use

Esme wasn't going into the day with high hopes as it was; she'd never been much of a Valentine's savant, and if she hadn't owed Fiona a favor, she'd have stayed home altogether. She was indifferent to the whole idea, and while she didn't have a terrible time after Declan salvaged the evening off campus, she never saw Frankie's conduct coming. It was a shock to say the least, and, coming after Esme offered to end her tryst with Zig, one she didn't think she deserved. Thinking it a salvageable enough idea to watch movies on the couch, the house empty for the night save for herself, Esme rummaged through the kitchen for a quick dinner idea, settling on the leftover pint of ice cream in the freezer. Satisfied with the selection, she settled down onto the sofa, drifting to sleep until hearing the knock on the door. She stood there for a moment, curiously. Her dad wouldn't be home all night, and he obviously had keys. Miles wouldn't know she was home. That left Frankie as the most reasonable person, come to apologize. Unsure if she wanted to face her, she paused to take a spoonful of the dessert in her hands, figuring she'd have to see Frankie at some point. Walking to the door, she took a deep breath before pulling it open, not expecting anyone else to be on the other side. "Zig," she greeted, confused. She stepped aside, silently inviting him in.

Zig wasn’t one for school sanctioned social gatherings. He found them to be pointless, especially one with a Valentine’s Day theme. It was a holiday for love, and as far as he knew, there was nobody he’d even come close to loving at the moment. For that reason, he considered the dance to be a waste of time. Rather, he spent his time at the ravine, downing Coronas and hitting on any pretty face that walked his way. The text from Frankie had caught him off guard. Esme was the last person he intended to put his focus on that night. The fact that she’d been mad at him was starting to get to him, for some strange reason. He had hoped the rose would help to ease the tension, but he had become quite frustrated with himself for even caring in the first place. He had hurt plenty of girls in the past and never thought twice about it, so why was this different? He looked at his phone, briefly took a look at this ‘Micah’ guy’s Instagram, then requested the address from Frankie. His initial reaction was to ignore her pleas and tell Miles to take care of it, considering the two were most likely closer than her and Zig. He decided against bickering with Frankie on the topic though, since she did seem genuinely worried over Esme’s well-being. He tossed his beer can into the trash, offered a halfhearted goodbye to those at the Ravine, and headed towards the direction of Esme’s house. His navigation app had informed him the walk wouldn’t be long, luckily. After a while, Zig finally reached a house that caused him to audibly groan with annoyance. Of course, she was rich. No wonder her and Miles got along so well. Surely, they must’ve spent their time bragging about their riches and looking down on people like him. The smarter part of Zig told him that Esme wasn’t like that, but the part consumed by envy was ready to turn around and call it all off. Instead, he sighed and knocked on the door, knowing very well that a part of him worried for the other’s well-being as well. “Hey,” He smiled, eyes widening as he took note of the elegant decor in her home. “So you weren’t gonna tell me that you were completely loaded?” He raised an eyebrow. The only other house he’s been in that could match the adornment of this one was the Hollingsworth residence. “Whatever, that’s not important. Are you... okay?” He asked with a bit of hesitance, wondering if she’d actually give him a straightforward answer.

Esme Zig was the last face she thought she'd be ending the night facing. She didn't expect him to take part in the festivities she herself was strong armed into, so she couldn't rightfully anticipate him to; romance wasn't for either of them. So it was all the more intriguing to be face to face with him now. "I didn't think it mattered," she responded truthfully, raising a matching eyebrow at the confusing greeting. It hadn't ever crossed her mind that her family wealth was something of importance, least of all to Zig, who didn't know much else about her. "But hello to you too, I guess? You can come in," she invited awkwardly, ushering him in off of the porch he lingered on. "Why would I not be okay?"

Zig paused for a moment. He supposed she was right, but the fact still bothered him. It almost made him feel like the two came from completely different worlds now, despite feeling so similar in the past. “Maybe because I heard you were coked out with Declan Coyne and some guy named Micah. God... that stuff’s dangerous, Esme. You shouldn’t just go off doing it with random guys.” He almost sounded like a scolding father, which was ironic coming from Zig, who always seemed to be the bad influence in all of his relationships. Zig was never one for the harder drugs though, preferring a simple blunt over anything that needed to be ingested or snorted. “I don’t mean to sound like a dick, sorry,” He murmured, knowing his mouth was what got him into trouble with Esme last time. “But why do you have to do that stuff? The coke and the pills?”

Esme's night was only getting stranger, certainly not pacified by how oddly concerned Zig's face appeared to grow. It was strange enough to have him at her doorstep at such an hour, but to hear his sudden chastise was flooring, her eyes widening at the specific knowledge he suddenly possessed. "What the fuck?" She nearly choked, her hands raising to stop him from continuing. "I... wow, okay, first of all, that's not what I was doing with Declan. And how the hell do you know Micah? No random guys, what are you even saying? Why are you here?" Lifting one hand to her temple, her other reached back to the forgotten ice cream, anxiously taking a heaping spoonful as she walked farther into the house.

Zig crossed his arms over his chest, almost irritated that Esme seemed completely fine despite Frankie's evident concern. "Okay, then what were you doing with Declan?" He questioned, anticipating an answer that he most likely didn't want. "I... I just know, okay? Who it came from doesn't matter. I'm here because I was worried about you." It was probably best not to dance around the subject and simply be straightforward, as much as he didn't want to admit that a part of him was starting to care for the girl. "Which I guess was pointless since you seem okay to me."

Esme lifted her eyebrows as if to question his audacity - and perhaps his sanity. Who was he to be pressing her for answers, especially if he still hadn't explained why he was, or how he'd found out any of the things he was prodding into. "I don't think that's really any of your business," she returned calmly, stabbing the spoon into her carton to set it on the kitchen island. "He's a friend. The dance was a mess so we left and had a better time," she explained, not out of the feeling of owing him, but because she could tell he wasn't one to let up. She didn't accept his answer, too bare and vague for her liking, and she mentally recounted anyone who had known her at both school, a small enough list to narrow it down quickly enough. "Did... did Frankie tell you all of this? She sent you here to babysit me?"

Zig rolled his eyes at her response, wondering why he even expected a real answer from Esme in the first place. In the beginning, he liked the fact that Esme was shrouded in mystery— things were easier that way since they both only came to each other for one thing in particular. Now, he found it a bit bothersome that every time he tried to make any type of connection beyond sex, Esme was far too keen on pushing him away. "Well, I'm glad you two had lots of fun together, then," he responded with heavy sarcasm and a sudden urge to pummel a rich kid. At the mention of Frankie, he knew there was no denying that she was the one who passed along the information. "Really? Frankie didn't send me over here to babysit. She wanted me to make sure you were okay. Is it that hard to believe that she just cares about you?"

Esme "I didn't see you at the dance, so I can only assume you were having just as much fun," she accused, picking up on his upset. "Do we have a problem here?" He queried, aggression in her tone. Her eyes narrowed, at an utter loss to why he was so unhappy that she'd spent any amount of time with Declan. To her knowledge, they didn't have issue with one another, so it couldn't have been personal, and past that Esme had no idea what to think. At the confirmation that Frankie had outed her, Esme shook her head. "Unbelievable, that little bitch," she scoffed, reaching for her cell phone. It was a shock to say the least, and, coming after Esme offered to end her tryst with Zig, one she didn't think she deserved. But the damage was done, and it would seem that Frankie succeeded whatever in whatever her plan was. It was just sex, Esme reminded herself, so it wouldn't be the end of the world if Zig never spoke to her again. That was the logical way to see things, but her heart wasn't making that connection, giving her that sinking feeling since she'd answered the door. "She cares so much that she booked it from the dance the second she saw me - and left Declan, who was her date, if you really need someone to be mad at."

Zig "I haven't had 'fun' with anyone else in... shit, how long has it been?" The question was enough to make Zig stop in his tracks and try to recall the last time he hooked up with anyone who wasn't Esme. It must've been a month at least. Though, this choice was not intentional as far as he knew. He simply excused his behavior with laziness as opposed to anything else, knowing the draining effects of talking to more than one girl at once. "I don't have a problem, I came to check up on you. That's it. If you want me to leave I'll leave." It wasn't as if he felt the most comfortable there anyways what with being so out of place. "Whoa, hey, chill with the name calling. She's your friend, right? The one you drunk texted me about not wanting to lose? I'm sure there's a reason why she did it, so why don't you talk to her before getting pissy about it?" He suggested with such eloquence. "I don't wanna be mad at anyone, okay? I didn't come to yell at you or anything. Maybe to tell you that what you're doing is stupid, yeah, but I'm not mad." If there was anyone to be angry at, it was himself for even caring in the first place.

Esme, while still annoyed by his assumptions, was a little surprised to hear of Zig's unintentional loyalty to her. She'd figured he was running around with a stockpile of other girls in town, never giving it much thought, but now hearing the very opposite confirmed, she wondered why he didn't use his charm to his advantage. "Oh." she responded, feeling a touch of awkwardness that she couldn't say the same. His offer of retreat would normally be something she accepted straight away, had she not sent him away at the doorstep, but she couldn't bring herself to want the departure. Maybe she just didn't want to leave things with such a looming air of tension since she already had so many other important people not on her side. But was Zig important too? She stayed quiet, effectively allowing him to stay, and the silence continued through the small lecture. She set down her phone, knowing that in some sense he was right, as awful as it was to admit it. "She had no right to tell you about that stuff," she defended softly, seating herself at the island. Her eyes moved up to meet his, glowering for a moment at his insult. "I don't do it that often, and I'm sure you do your share of stupid things too, so I don't know if you're the right person to be telling me this. I'm fine, you said it yourself," she repeated, gesturing down at her body, now very aware she was still in her gown.

Zig took a seat next to her, sighing audibly as he did so. He nodded his head in agreement at her statement, also understanding that Esme had every right to her own privacy. Realizing this also made him realize that his visit may have seemed far too invasive. Granted, he never would have come if he knew she just got home from spending the night with Declan, but even so he felt somewhat bad for barging in unannounced. "You're right... I don't know if this helps, but I don't really plan on telling anyone, so..." If the information Frankie provided was meant to be kept a secret, then Zig would do his best to keep it that way. "I do a handful of dumb things everyday," He agreed. "But nothing that'll kill me... for the most part." Zig has made plenty of bad decisions in his lifetime, but none that he would ever consider life threatening— illegal, maybe, but not deadly. "And why do you have to look so good in that damn dress thing?" Even when she made no attempt to do so, she still managed to look captivating in anything she wore. He hated how attracted he could be to her, even in moments like this.

Esme could feel the rising unsettle in her stomach, a number of sources responsible. Most could be explained away easily enough, but Zig wasn't one of them. The sudden nerves as his tone softened, how she chose to believe his assurance. It was unlike her to put as much thought into relationships of any sort, but she wanted to be able to trust him, a far cry from the bare bones unions she'd forged with most anyone else. She shrugged at his promise, drumming her hand on the discarded and melting ice cream to appear casual. "I'm fine, Zig," she repeated, abashed. It took a moment to register that his next question was a statement, and not the aggravating line of inquiries, peering back over to him with a growing smile. "Low standards probably," she joked, struggling to accept the compliment in a lighter setting. Anxiously -for no good reason-, she combed her hands through her hair, messy from the impromptu couch nap, trying to pull it back into place, but it was a lost cause draped around her shoulders.

Zig watched as her fingers became tangled in a mess of raven waves, suddenly noticing that this was the first time he had ever seen her with her hair down. No matter how dirty they got in the past, her hair always managed to stay in its signature braid. "Why don't you wear it like that more?" He gestured to her head. "It looks pretty— not that you don't look pretty with your usual thing, but..." He turned away, suddenly feeling a bit awkward over how drawn to her he was. "Oh, hey, looks like your ice cream's a puddle now. Sorry, I guess I kinda distracted you from it."

Esme tried to brush the hair away before Zig noticed it was out of its usual state, but he was always one step ahead. "It's a long story," she cringed, letting the hair fall where it may. "Old habits die hard I guess. Clearly," she chuckled tensely, a nod to her others. Her hair had become a defensive mechanism over the years, something she didn't plan on becoming so strict about, but by now there was no going back. She'd forgotten about the ice cream she'd abandoned, only glancing over when Zig mentioned the state of it, Esme moving away to wipe the counter clean. "It's like, three in the morning," she announced, trying to center herself and pull away from the frighteningly sincere moment she wasn't prepared to handle. "Do you-" she paused, confirming in her head that she was okay with what she was about to offer. "You can stay here if you want. My dad went to see my mom, so he won't be back until tomorrow."

Zig nodded his head in understanding, aware that he would not be hearing that 'long story' anytime soon. Baby steps, he supposed. After Esme mentioned the time, he instinctively went to glance at his phone to confirm the numbers on his home screen. "Your dad's going to see your mom? So she doesn't live with you guys... but he still visits her?— y'know what never mind. Yeah, I'll stay." To him, it sounded like an oddly messy divorce, but he had done enough prying for the night, and decided it was best to drop the subject altogether. A sudden wave of exhaustion had overcome him anyways after realizing how late it was, and he was no longer in the mood to talk. "I've always kinda wanted to see how your bedroom looks," he noted, rising from his seat and waiting for Esme to lead the way.

Esme was kicking herself once again; it was a with terrible ease that she kept dangling breadcrumbs of her past into Zig's lap lately when it was something she damn well prided herself in keeping to herself with anyone else. Her only solace was that he didn't press the matter of her parents' situation, one she wasn't willing to unload. From the time Zig arrived, her state was different, and she was having a hard time getting a grasp on things. This wasn't in her repertoire, and it definitely wasn't part of the arrangement she and Zig had going, but there was no denying that it was a relief that he agreed to stay with her. "Okay," she accepted, flicking off the light behind her. She didn't plan on explaining her aversion to being alone, and it was a convenient excuse to use the time as a reason why it was beneficial to him, and nothing more. Ushering up the stairs and into her bedroom, she held her arms out for sarcastic fanfare. "Hope it's everything you wished for," she teased, turning her back to him with an "unzip me?"

Zig followed along up the stairs and to her bedroom, one that he found to be quite normal looking. A very anticlimactic reveal, indeed. Though, he supposed the excitement was about to begin now that Esme was literally asking him to undress her. He nodded obediently, moving closer so he could get a grip on the tiny slider and unzip her outfit. He watched as the dress fell to the ground, revealing Esme's bare skin that he had now been so accustomed to feeling. "So... are you gonna put your pj's on now or...?" For the first time, Zig felt a bit awkward initiating anything amorous towards her— like it wasn't the right moment despite Esme being stripped down to the bare essentials.

Esme hadn't meant her undressing to be anything more than a bedtime task, but that didn't mean she couldn't run with it. "You don't like seeing me naked anymore?" She purred, turning to face him and as a result, fully expose her bare skin. Initially it was nothing but a joke at his expense but now that she was able to see his face, she couldn't find the same lust in his eyes that her nudity always unearthed, and that made her much more nervous then being so physically vulnerable in the first place. It was suddenly very necessary to Esme to remind them both of who they were to each other, whether she really wanted to or not. "Should we..." she trailed, walking her fingers down his chest and down to his waistline.

Zig couldn't help but smile at her question. They both knew very well how heavily attracted they were to each other, but he wondered if there was anything beyond lust. "Uh... do you wanna just... sleep?" He almost felt dirtier asking for that as opposed to sex. Him and Esme never slept together in the literal sense— the act may have been too intimate for the both of them. "I mean, I'm down for anything!— But you're probably tired, and so am..." There was also the fact that she had just spent a night with Declan Coyne too, and knowing Esme, their plans went far beyond drugs and friendly conversation. Choosing to push that aside and not get worked up over it again, he offered a slightly uncomfortable smile.

Esme wasn't sure if it was offense that she was feeling; truthfully she wasn't sure how to feel at all about his dismissal, as uncomfortably polite as he presented it. She wasn't used to rejection, especially never from Zig but she knew by the way he backpedaled that it was a rejection nonetheless and even though she wasn't offering her services for her own benefit, it was a strange sting for him to want something so passive instead. The gut feeling was back that lines were being blurred, and prior to this night she never would have seen herself sharing a bed in such an innocent matter with the boy in question but she could acknowledge the relief she felt all the same. "Yeah... I'm pretty tired," she confirmed, swallowing the embarrassment of asking in the first place. Taking a step back from him, she stepped into her bathroom to wash off the evenings makeup, retrieving and ingesting a couple of routine medications before pulling a robe from the back of the door to sheathe herself, now feeling far too naked in more senses than one.

Zig made an attempt to clear up any misunderstandings, but by then it was most likely too late. "Not that I don't want to... but we don't have to have sex every time we see each other... do we?" The question was almost asked in earnest, as he pondered where exactly their relationship stood at the moment— or if they even had one, for that matter. When Esme agreed, he took a seat on the bed and waited patiently to complete her nightly rituals. Upon seeing her emerge from the bathroom, he groaned. "Shit, you look good in a robe too," He commented with false irritation before laying down and patting the spot next to him. "Ready?"

Esme wouldn't say that it was upsetting to hear Zig press the matter of their connection necessarily, but it did leave her feeling unsettled. "Isn't that our whole thing?" Her words held no ill will, really asking herself for clarification more than anything, but it was a double edged sword she walked along to hear what his answer might be. Pulling away from the too real moment, she couldn't help but smile at his admiration, one that had been growing on her. "I try," she teased, smoothing the plush fabric over her thighs. Standing at the edge of the bed she asked herself the same question... was she ready? Even though she'd been the one to offer, would she make it through the night beside him with her sanity in tact? It was noticeably more awkward to just linger at the side of the bed, so she put her qualms aside, peeling back her side of the bedding and slipping in beside him. "Yep," she chimed, too eager as she reached for the remote at her end table to turn off the lights above them.

Zig nodded slowly at her question, "Well, yeah... I guess so. Maybe it doesn't have to be though." The two had an unspoken agreement on what they both wanted out of their fling, but now Zig questioned where his true desires laid. He thought sex was the only thing he really got from Esme. Looking back though, he realized that maybe, just maybe he wanted more. It couldn't have been a coincidence that she was the only girl he hooked up with now, originally blaming it on his own laziness, but perhaps a part of him knew that wasn't the whole truth. In all honesty, Esme was the only girl who could capture his interest outside of the bedroom. Was this... a crush? Was Zig Novak actually developing a schoolboy crush on someone? The thought alone made him shift uneasily on the bed, but he began to relax at Esme's confirmation. As the two got into bed, he moved closer to wrap an arm around her figure. He assumed the whole ordeal would be awkward, but after settling into a comfortable position, everything felt... right. "Well... goodnight, I guess," He murmured, nestling his head closer to hers and taking in the scent of her flowery shampoo.

Esme figured the worst would be over just with the words exchanged, but the physical nature was the most dire. It was a sick irony, considering the basis of her relationship with the boy who now looked far too comfy in her bed, but she'd never quite mastered the intimacy aspect that was being thrown her way presently. She wasn't good with feelings -not that she was allowing herself to catch any-, nor did she ever see the point in making meaningful connections. She knew herself, and they wouldn't be built to last. Turning on her side as if facing away from him would calm her nerves, she tensed at the arm splayed around her, accepting it after a moment to save face. "Goodnight," she returned quietly, counting down the minutes until her sedatives would rescue her from the web she'd woven herself into.

#para #zig #zigncvak #p:luxury

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vidalinav · 6 years ago

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Come Back to the Sea (1)

My contribution to #mermay, because I am not artistic in any form except writing. It’s also chapter 1 of a way longer fic that I have written a lot of. Stay tuned!

Summary: Nessian AU loosely-based on the Little Mermaid

Rated: T

Words: ~3200

Theme song by Ina Wroldsen, “Sea”

“She is a mermaid, but approach her with caution. Her mind swims at a depth most would drown in.” -J Iron Word

“There is a tale we are told as young sailors, about three sisters who grow up separated from each other. As babies, they cry and cry and cry, so that, maybe, someone will hear them and reunite them once more. But they’re never heard by anyone.

It is said that only the cauldron heard their cries that day and scorned the world for hurting her children. She sent hatred and plagues, poisoned people’s hearts, and still no one listened. It only fueled her rage.

Consumed with anger, The cauldron promised, that one day, when the air was clear, the skies dark and grey, when the earth shook, and the sea trembled, the world would finally hear her children’s cries.

And only the three sisters would be able to save them all from the cauldron’s wrath.”

They used to tell her tales about the fear and death that waited above the surface. That the rays of sunlight glittering in the water enslaved anyone who looked for too long, that the light would only blind the curious. They used to tell her of the greed that consumed those who walked on land; the selfishness and anger that shot out of their mouths like they breathed fire. For they did breathe fire and burned anyone who stood in their way.

When she was especially curious, they would whisper stories in her ear― of people with no names or faces littering the world with the bodies of the men they hated. Humans were malicious creatures who’d kill before they even knew why. Maybe they didn’t need a reason.

Humans liked the taste of their flesh, they said, they liked their flesh and their gold. How humans craved their priceless scales and their ruby hearts.

Maybe that’s why they trapped her, under the sea. To keep those humans, monsters, far away from her.

She sometimes wondered if it was harder keeping her away from them.

We built these walls for you, they’d say.

They hadn’t given her freedom. Or choice. Or power. They had only given her protection, from invisible nets that yearned to take her and imaginary people ready to eat into her with their claws and teeth.

But, it never stopped her from wondering― about the knowledge that consumed them all. If they could have locked her in a tower, they probably would have, because she would never stay behind those city walls. Her curiosity was an urge so bitter and cruel that she could not be trapped in the deep depths of indigo and night.

It’s why she often found herself close to shallow waters, where the rocks met the sea. The jagged ends of stone sharp against her fingertips. A bit more pressure and she’d be surrounded by fish, seaweed, and the cerulean that pulsed beneath her skin. A person of her status should never bleed, she could hear them chastise. But, there was a reason this place was her favorite.

Nesta wasn’t supposed to be here, she wasn’t supposed to go out of the castle walls, or out of the city drenched in sea fire and crystals. All merpeople were forbidden here, but like the many walls they built to keep her in, it had yet to stop her.

They will kill you, they shouted. They will free me, she roared.

In some ways the humans did. They offered her another world, another life, another body that was not her own. One that could dance, and write, and read, and go. Anywhere, that wasn’t down below and far out of reach. If Nesta wanted to know about freedom, she needed only to swim a little farther than her brethren allowed.

Like the many stories they told her, her exploration into the forbidden had started with a book. One day, when she had run far faster than the guards chasing after her, she had a glimpse of the fragmented pages sinking down and down, further into the abyss. Nesta had never seen one, didn’t even know how to read one, but it called to her like a dream. She swam to it, tried to collect its fragile binding and its delicate petals. They only cascaded around her, a whirlpool of possibilities.

When she examined the pages she captured, soaked with salt and sea, the ink ran like blood in her hands, and the pages crumbled to dust.

Nesta was fond of the sea, it had been her constant companion since the day she was born. It had been the only family she needed and the only family she had. But she resented the water that day, for what it took from her. What it kept from her.

She had released the paper in defeat and watched it drift down below into the darkness that hummed so loud she covered her ears.

Nesta never swam below that great abyss, though it called to her lovingly, whispered her name like a story she had always wanted to hear. But as there were tales about the dangerous, unburdened humans, there were stories about the deep— a trench so dark and menacing that not even the merfolk could spare them the horrors.

She took one look at the darkness, could see nothing beyond the black inky tendrils, and forgot about the book completely. She might have lost many treasures to her fear, and though she chose never to believe in the tales that her nursemaids sang to her, she couldn’t ignore the fear of being sucked in to never return. She had been trapped in many places, had grown up in cages far too small, she would not willingly choose to be subjugated again.

But she often found herself wandering to the place where the waves crashed against stone and the great abyss whispered her name.

She found many things there, trinkets and bobbles, and color. She’d imagine the world with the items, how the cloth could be wrapped around her or the string could tie back her hair. How the land could be much better by simple inventions and handiwork. It fascinated her completely.

She kept it all a secret. No one would ever find out, about the treasures she hid past the palace walls. There was only so many rules she could break, before they decided there wasn’t enough.

This time was no different than any of the other times. Except the water was a little warmer, she noted. The deep a little quieter, the trench a little less frightening. The whole ocean was calm, patient even, as it seemed to be waiting.

Nesta waited with it—for the metal sticks with its tiny prongs and the wet paper that turned to mush, floating through the water like she imagined specks of dust in the sky. But nothing glided down the sea. Even the fish swimming around her seemed to wait patiently for the world to collapse.

In the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of something she had never seen before, not in these waters that were deep enough to scare the meridian.

Something glittered, she watched it swim across the waters. The object blinked like unsuspecting eyes. It wasn’t the sunlight though some part of her yearned to feel it. When she put her hand through it, the dot centered on her palm. Her gaze followed the trail to the surface.

The light called to her, entranced some innate part of her that wanted to know. There were many things she wasn’t allowed to do, many things they kept her away from, but she yearned to know everything. As much as it would take to live.

Nesta was so focused on following the light, she never even noticed the fish swimming away, pushing and shoving their way past her. She never even noticed the net.

It enclosed around her slowly, and she pushed around its webbed lies and the school still fighting against their fate. She thrashed and kicked and screamed and nothing budged, Nesta only watched as the trench got darker and farther away, only watched the trench watching her with its obsidian eyes and shallow heart. She swore she could hear it cry out her name.

She stared at it, reaching out as if it would take hold of her hand and pull. She wouldn’t stop fighting the net, even as the abyss did not come to her aid. The fish seemed to wail, but their eyes told her they had already given up. Nesta wondered if they thought she should do the same. But, Nesta would never stop fighting for her freedom.

She screamed, urging the water to help her unravel the net, and nothing. It remained calm around her as she wailed, as she pushed, as her heard surfaced above water, as it became hard to breathe when the water rushed out of her lungs. It scorned her very being in its refusal to help. In that moment, she hated the sea for what it did to her.

But, the water did not protect her.

Nesta looked through the webbing and imagined herself soaring through a sea of clouds and mist, a place where griffins or dragons would grab her with sharp talons and take her far away. A princess and a prisoner.

Being above the water had been exciting to dream as a child, frightening to live as she waited for the string to sever and the rope to snap. Dangling above the sea made her wish she had wings instead of a tail. Though it wouldn’t have helped her either when she was captured in a net.

It wasn’t unusual for her to dream of other bodies when she felt trapped by her own; it wasn’t unreasonable as she hung above the precipice. But every time she thought of another life, another body, another name, she could never see herself without some sort of cage, no matter how pretty that cage turned out to be.

She grasped the rope and yanked. As it did not budge in the water, it did not budge in the sky. She tried clawing at it with her teeth—her canines sharp against the steady material. The rope did not break. All those times Nesta dreamed, she didn’t expect to yearn for the deep or wish that someone would help her. She hated the ocean even more for that.

She swished back and forth, knotting the rope between her fingers. In the distance she could hear bellowing whistles and thundering footsteps. Nesta was almost furious that the net that had taken her was now her only safety measure.

“Captain! I think we’ve got something,” she could hear a man yell through the fog. Young if she were to guess, though she had nothing to compare it to.

She looked around, searching for pairs of legs and hideous faces. Monsters that hid their fury in their eyes. She grasped at the webbing as it jerked forward. Nesta resisted the urge to hide behind silver scales.

“Woah, boys, steady. Lower the net!” Another called, the voice rougher than the other had been, stronger perhaps. Someone more forceful.

In time with his words, the net seemed to lower. The mist cleared a path for her and her innocent gaze. Her body jerked back and forth, but she held on, closing her eyes and pretending it was all a dream. It was only a story.

Her head felt like it was in a bubble and it only popped when the net lowered. Her back ached from the brunt force of the wood. She splashed around the like poor fish gasping for water. Her face hot, the air around her stale and hard. Her chest beat fast, her body convulsing from the pressure.

Sparks of white light danced in her irises. Nesta could feel the earth move beneath her, but it was not her friend. This world seemed to laugh at her, mock her for ever believing she could surpass her birthright.

Nesta heard gasps between bouts of motion sickness. She imagined them surrounding her, sharks intimidating their prey. The rough tune of words made her grasp her tail closer to her body. If she didn’t turn, she couldn’t see them. If she couldn’t see them, they didn’t exist.

This time she was the one telling lies.

“Look what we have here.” He said at last, tapping his foot, urging her to dance to the rhythm. Only then did she look up at his monstrosity.

His face was trapped between young boy and old man. His cheeks were round and red, but the rest of his skin crinkled as his face moved.

Nesta couldn’t really tell his age. Mer-people tended to grow rapidly and rarely did they ever age past what humans deemed standard adulthood. She had met many people who were over 500 years old and rarely did they ever look a day past her own age.

This man however looked both eternal and damned. Like the bitter air had sucked his youth away and replaced it with trouble and deceit. She looked past his gruesome smile and wondered if he too had teeth that extended into sharp points.

He was short and stout with long tendrils of red hair sprouting from the lower half of his face. As he talked, though Nesta could only make up most of his words, she recognized the deep, scratchy tone. She watched him as wet drops of saliva splattered past his mouth and into his beard.

“Release the net.” He demanded, jutting his chin towards her. The man he referred to, stepped in front of him, claiming his position of inferiority.

The man examined her with the crazy, bloodshot eyes. He swayed along, grasping the rope and yanking her tail with it, untangling it from her form. She gasped at the pain, but he merely smiled, fascinated by the noises she made.

This man wasn’t the only one who looked at her like that. She briefly wondered if perhaps they looked at all females like that. Like animals ready to slaughter and maim and control.

They stared at her like they had found gold. She was their treasure.

Nesta was said to be beautiful, even in comparison to gems and pearls. That’s why her people must have loved her so. Her tail glittered like emeralds, her body gleamed like iridescent pearls. Where most merfolk had crustacean shells woven into their skull, she had shells in every color known to coral. Where they had bottomless blue eyes, she had eyes the color of sea glass. They had told stories about her beauty, and yet caged her down below.

She almost wished they had done a better job.

As she looked around, past their hungry gazes, she perused the interior of the ship. It was not what she expected when she had found wooden boards sinking throughout the water. This ship was gangly and old. The wood smelled rotten, and the men smelled worse.

“The king would pay beautifully for her; this whole ship will be swimming in gold.”

The man she imagined was the captain laughed. Little bumps appeared on her flesh as she felt the madness make a way up her body.

“Bind her and take her below deck.”

The fear twisted a fist in her spine, and she wished she had listened to their idiotic rumors and legends. A thought that made her angry, if only because she was trapped in another set of lies and truths. When they had told her those stories, when they made her want to climb out of her own skin, she should have paid more attention. There must have been some ways these humans could be demolished, like the dust they would become.

Her hatred of them was stronger than her fear.

“Hey Newbie! Tie her up.” He chuckled under his breath, “Under Captain’s orders.”

Most of the group kept their eyes locked on her, though they parted to let this man through. He was larger than the others, she noted. Nesta briefly wondered why they seemed to treat him as the inferior, when he looked like he could kill them all.

His black hair curled around his face and his skin glowed with the sun. She supposed he was marginally cleaner than the rest of them.

The man looked at the man with the rope, thought nothing of it until he looked at her, curled up in the middle of the brigade. Nesta couldn’t imagine how she must have looked, but she held onto herself tighter. He grabbed the rope but snatched a piece of cloth from one of the barrels.

The man came towards her, held up his hands as he approached. Her eyes stayed wide and assessing. This human was not going to touch her without losing his fingers, like she had lost her will. But he only held up the large cloth. It was thick, and he seemed to think she was in desperate need.

She was born cold-blooded.

Nesta stared into his eyes, the color she imagined the water would look like when the sun touched the sea. They darkened under her scrutiny, his brows furrowing. He tried reaching out and placing the cloth across her body. She braced herself for the unwanted touch. But the captain slapped the blanket out of his hand, merely staring at her chest.

“She’s a fish, not a human.”

His eyes never left hers and his expression never changed. He was as mysterious as that great abyss they all feared, Nesta wondered if she should fear him. She couldn’t picture humans being anything other than monsters.

He grabbed her arms and tightly wound the rope along the grooves of her wrists, never paying attention to the fear or anger that emanated from her. He didn’t care at all. He was just like the other two-legged crazed humans, just like them in a multitude of ways.

He yanked the cloth off the floor and stepped away. He didn’t look back once. They’d drag her, she supposed, to another cage.

They had told her many stories. One’s that she chose to cherish and ones that she chose to laugh at. About people who came and went on missions to search the great below, where gold was said to be buried under. Nesta had never seen gold outside of the city walls, or where the specks of human filth filtered the water.

But now as she stared at all of them, the men who made her teeth clench, she wondered if maybe she was the treasure they tried to hide—why they built those alabaster walls and pearl encrusted gates and those dreaded, dreaded rules.

There were other stories, too. Of treasures being cursed to those that claimed it. Greed would lead humans to their own demise.

They grabbed her arms, grabbed her tail, and hoisted her across the ship.

She thrashed, kicking and screaming. Because if she was going to be taken like some treasure they had dug up from the sand and sea, she would make them wish they had never cast their net.

Author’s Note:

The more and more I write, I learn that I am a complete perfectionist and it’s terrible. Took me two weeks to write this one chapter because it wasn’t ever good enough to me and every time I thought that I wanted to quit. But I’m no quitter and I actually really planned this story out, and I’ve written a ton of it already. Editing it just sucks, cause again perfectionist.

Anyways I hope you like. I’m working on more plot based stories now instead of one-shots, since I want to improve on this skill as a writer. Let me know if you liked this fic or the concept. Reading comments doesn’t really motivate me to write, I just like writing, but it makes me happy to see all the same. And I encourage all of you to let any author who wrote something you like to let them know even if it’s not me (shrugs).

I value and cherish your comments, and I’m sure all fanfic writers feel the same about that.

Long note over :D

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acofas #acowar #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian x nesta

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lesbian-sora · 7 years ago

Text

Only Fools

Summary ~ School is hard. School is harder when you’re a loser who has more bullies than friends. School is even harder when you have a crush on the most amazing guy in the world, even if your friends can’t see it. School is damn impossible when your friends coerce you into participating in the school play with the most amazing guy in the world.

Dan and Phil’s experience falls into the impossible category, but maybe together (with some help from the King himself) they can make it out alive and well.

Tags ~ Fluff, high school AU, friends to lovers, theatre kids, mutual pining, slow burn, slight angst, not actually unrequited love

Words ~ 7106/~35K

Warnings ~ Swearing

Rating ~ Teen

Author’s Note ~ Hi guys! This fic was originally supposed to be one of my fics for Phandom Big Bang 2016, but things came up. I recently blew the dust off of it, and I really liked it, so it’s getting revamped and published! Updates will most likely be once a month for the next 4 months (I may up that posting schedule if writing/editing goes well and people actually like it) and I look forward to all of you getting to read it! Also, this will be my first chaptered fic that I’m posting one part at a time, so that’s exciting!

Prompt me!

Buy me a coffee!

Next chapter!

Read on AO3

Act I Scene I

There honestly weren’t very many people Louise Pentland disliked. She was bubbly and personable, meaning she got along with just about everyone she came in contact with, and she quite liked it that way. Everything from her approachable smile to her mothering attitude made it so people were drawn to her and she to them.

That being said, she absolutely despised Phil Lester.

Was it unfair, petty, and totally unreasonable? Absolutely. In all honesty, Phil would probably be voted nicest guy in the school, if anyone were to take a poll. Was he was a bit weird? Most certainly. However, it was a completely harmless weird. It was quirky and odd like that store on the edge of town that dealt solely in the manufacture and sale of cat-themed gnomes. If she were to be straight with herself, she would admit that Phil had never knowingly or unknowingly harmed, damaged or even seriously upset herself or anyone she remotely knew, simply because that wasn’t the type of person Phil was. No, her dislike of Phil wasn’t his fault, and he had no idea it was even happening. Her dislike boiled down to one thing and one thing only.

“Louise! You’ll never guess what Phil did today!” Dan gushed, collapsing in the seat next to her.

Louise didn’t bother to look up from her compact where she was very carefully reapplying her lip gloss. She knew Dan was flushed lightly with a wide, dopey smile and that his eyes shone as if every star was compacted down into glitter that was dumped into hot chocolate. He always looked like that when Phil was brought up. Which was a lot. “I’m guessing from your normal reports that he was walking down the hall and breathing.”

“No,” Dan scowled and wadded a bit of paper into a tiny ball and flicked it at her, offering a sheepish grin after it landed in her makeup. “I actually talked with him a bit today.”

“Dan, we’ve discussed this before. Saying ‘Hi, Phil!’ and then hiding your face and running away before he can respond doesn’t count as talking to him.”

“Someone’s in a mood,” Dan pouted. “And I’ll have you know this was a totally real and legit conversation we had. Some dick head knocked into me on the way out here and Phil saw and helped me pick all my stuff up and everything. He even gave me his hand to help me stand up!”

Louise cocked a brow. “Really? Honestly, Dan I almost didn’t think you had it in you,” she said, ignoring his squawks of protest. “What all did you boys talk about?”

“He saw my piano book and asked if I played,” Dan said dreamily, the look on his face making it more than apparent that he was reliving the moment in perfect clarity again and again until it was ingrained in his memory. “And so I told him yeah, but I was awful and then I thought he was going to just leave but he walked with me almost the whole way here and he saw me in the play last year, Louise! He saw me and remembered me and told me I did a good job! Oh my god, it was probably the best moment of my life.”

Louise rolled her eyes, but smiled good naturedly, more than pleased over how happy her friend was. However, there was one thing that always bugged her about the whole situation. “Dan, darling, why Phil of all people? I mean he’s nice and all, and, sure, he’s not awful to look at, but he’s just so strange. Saying you could do better is probably the understatement of the year.”

Dan looked at her, glaring at her as if she’d just spat in his mother’s face and told her that her cooking was a disgrace (which she hadn’t) and he was personally offended (which he probably was). “Okay, first of all,” he started and Louise took a deep breath, already regretting her words and preparing for the sermon that was soon to follow. “Phil Lester is an unusual beauty so rare and perfect and we don’t deserve him. Second, he’s got an absolutely brilliant mind and we should all count ourselves lucky to hear anything that brain decides to gift us with. Third-”

“Mr. Howell,” Mrs. Bronwell interrupted from the front of the room, “as much as I’m sure we’d all love to hear you expound on the virtues of Mr. Lester, I, personally, get paid to teach you math, and I’d quite like to do so at this moment. If that’s not an imposition on you, of course.”

Dan blushed bright red all the way from his collar bones (and possibly farther, who knew) to the very tips of his ears. “Sorry, Mrs.,” he said, sinking down a bit more in his chair. “I’m done.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” Louise scoffed, quite unintentionally. There were a few scattered titters around the room and Dan gave Louise a long, hard, stare. The whole school probably knew about Dan’s crush on Phil just from him talking loudly and passionately about how wonderful the other boy was at any chance he got, so it’s not like there was any new gossip being delivered so he didn’t really feel the need to be properly embarrassed. But, the sting of betrayal was still there and he was sure to let her know he felt about it.

“Thank you for your contribution, Miss Pentland,” Mrs, Bronwell smiled, “but we really must get on with our lesson. Now, today we’re studying logarithms - James, don’t you roll your eyes at me. Yes, I saw you just fine.”

Now that the lesson had begun and he was finally free of all judgement, Dan let himself drift off quite happily into his thoughts, where his daydreams once again found themselves centered upon the subject of Phil Lester. How kind his smile was when he was offering him help. How he seemed genuinely interested as Dan flushed and fumbled over the explanation of his mediocre piano skills. How his hand was so soft but sure and he held Dan’s own and pulled him to his feet. As his teacher went on about the ins and outs of math things he didn’t care about Dan drew little doodles, of hearts and Phil coming to rescue him from the horrors of sports. He sighed happily and looked out the window thinking about Phil Lester, unknowing that somewhere in the school Phil was sighing happily and looking out a window thinking about Dan Howell.

Act I Scene II

“I found out he plays piano, Peej!” Phil beamed, waving his hands around for emphasis. “That’s so impressive, honestly. I wonder if he can play anything else.”

“I think I heard somewhere that he plays drums, but that could just be a rumor.” PJ paid the conversation little mind, far more focused on the poster he was designing for the school play.

“Eh, he seems the type,” Chris added helpfully. “You know: loud, obnoxious and in your face.”

Phil scowled at his now snickering friends. “He is not. He’s always really sweet and quiet when I talk to him.”

“Yeah?” Chris challenged. “Well, I had a history class with him one time and his own friend asked the teacher if he could change seats because Dan was distracting him too much.”

“Sean said that one time when they were taking a chemistry exam Dan started singing the periodic table. Out loud,” PJ added helpfully.

“He’s boisterous, maybe,” Phil conceded, “But he’s probably hilarious which is why his friend was so distracted and besides, learning a song to memorize the periodic table is pretty smart.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Mate, we could tell you that Dan killed Mother Theresa and you’d just say ‘I mean, she probably deserved it.’” PJ chuckled next to him and Phil simply shot him another dirty look. “Anyway, as much as you love talking about Dan we really ought to move on because me and Peej, well, we don’t enjoy it near as much as you.”

Before Phil could argue PJ chimed in with a, “Help me decide on which one of these posters is better. Mr. Walters wants them up by this afternoon so people have plenty of time to sign up before auditions next month.” He showed them a couple of hand drawn posters, one featuring a more 60’s theme with psychedelic rainbow patterns and little people scattered all around doing various theatre things whilst the other was more focused on space, complete with little aliens all over it. Both said in clear letters “Join this year’s spring musical! All You Need Is Love: A 60’s space drama written and produced by PJ Liguori and Sophie Newton. Auditions after school in the auditorium on 8/8”

“I like the space one,” Phil said.

“No, no. The 60’s is way better,” Chris argued. “It’s more fun looking and approachable. Everybody likes the 60’s.”

“No, everybody likes space,” Phil insisted.

“No, you like space, you big nerd.”

“I think we should ask the cards.”

“Phil,” PJ groaned, “you can’t rely on your tarot cards for every decision you have to make.”

“Yes, I can. I asked the cards and they said it was fine,” Phil smirked, pulling out his deck of Pokemon cards. He was honestly rather proud of them; he had spent an entire afternoon dedicated to learning each of the 56 cards in the full tarot deck and assigning a Pokemon to each one, then an entire month (and more money than he’d care to admit) collecting every single card until his deck was finally complete. He closed his eyes and focused. “Alright, we’re just doing a yes or no question so we can just use the Major Arcana, or would you rather do a full reading with all the cards?”

PJ rolled his eyes, but said, “Just the Major is fine. You can do a full reading when it’s more important decisions.”

Phil nodded, separating out the twenty two cards needed. “Okay, PJ, I’m going to start shuffling. Focus really hard on your question and when you think it’s time, tell me to stop.”

PJ closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and said, “Stop.”

Immediately, Phil quit shuffling and laid the cards out in a neat row. “Is this good, or do you want me to shuffle again?”

“That’s fine. My question is ‘Should I use the space themed poster?’”

“Alright, choose a card.”

PJ chose one fourth from the left and Phil flipped it over, revealing a card of Mew. Phil grinned, before announcing: “You got The World, which talks about your conscious and unconscious joining and how you’re facing an important juncture that will make your path for the future clear. It also means that you’re going to gain true insight to the nature of yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, but is it a yes or a no?” Chris said impatiently.

“It’s a yes,” Phil said with a smug smirk.

“And how do we know you’re not bullshitting us to get your way?”

“Well, if you think about it there was the whole conscious, unconscious thing, and he clearly preferred the space one, considering how much time he spent on it.” They looked at PJ for confirmation who shrugged and nodded with a sheepish grin. “Plus if you have the play be ‘you’, having this decision be insight into the true nature of yourself makes sense since it’s really more about space with a sixties flair than sixties with space themes.” Chris frowned thoughtfully, slowly nodding his head before Phil grinned and added, “Also, you don’t.”

“Why you absolute-”

“Stow it,” PJ hissed. “Mr. Bedsole just walked in.” And with that, the three quieted down to focus on the droning lecture about World War II.

Act I Scene III

“But you said we were going out for coffee today!” Dan pouted at Louise, who, in her defense, looked absolutely heartbroken denying him.

“I’m sorry, Dan,” she said. “I really am, but Chummy says there’s a huge sale going on in Brighton today and I really don’t want to miss it. I promise we can go tomorrow.”

“I do swear that it’s a one day sale,” Zoe added earnestly, looking almost as remorseful as Louise. “I’ll buy you a drink tomorrow to make up for it.”

“That’s all well and good for tomorrow, but what am I meant to do for today?” he whined.

“You could always come with us?” Louise suggested weakly. “We can get coffee at the station to have on the train?”

Dan sighed, quietly enough that the two girls didn’t hear . “As much as I do honestly enjoy going shopping with you two, I’m really not up for a two hour train ride today. However, if you see anything you think I’d like, I wouldn’t say no to some more peace offerings for bailing on me today.”

“You cheeky thing!” Zoe laughed, gently pinching his cheek. “You’re a right mess and a half, you are.”

He batted her hand away with a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Seriously, though. What am I going to do today? My mum's going to be out until five or later and I left my key at home. Do you want me to just wander around Reading lost and alone that whole time?”

“Oh, please,” Louise laughed with an eye roll. “Tyler exists, so you know there’s no way you can be bored for too long.”

“My ears are on fire right now,” Tyler sang, joining them at their table. “What are we talking about? Besides me, of course.”

“Well, someone ditched me to go look at- What is it exactly that you’re after?”

“Clothes,” both girls said in unison.

“Going to that Brighton sale?” Tyler asked with a knowing smirk. “I’d join you, but honestly, I don’t want to.”

They all laughed together before Dan piped up, “Anyway, they’re leaving me for clothes and have put my afternoon activities in your command.”

Tyler winced. “I’m sorry, Dan-”

“No!”

“I have a date!” Tyler defended. “And, boo, you know I think you’re the best thing since sliced bread, but you third wheeling me isn’t going to get me laid.”

Dan cast him a betrayed look. “So, basically what you’re telling me is I’m basically screwed? Carrie’s busy with theatre, you’re going on a date, these two would rather pet garments they can’t afford then get coffee with me, and Sean is probably off sucking face with Signe.”

“You could always just follow Phil home and sit outside like a lost puppy and hope he lets you in,” Tyler suggested, somewhat helpfully.

“Why don’t you actually fuck off?” Dan snapped,as his face turned scarlet. “That was one time, okay?”

“You stood outside his house in the rain for an hour pretending you thought it was someone else’s house before you realized nobody was home.”

“That was two years ago!”

“I still can’t believe it happened at all.”

Dan buried his face in his hands to hide his blushing cheeks. “You guys are the absolute worst people in the world and I hate every single one of you,” he groaned.

Tyler reached over and patted his cheek fondly. “Oh, boo, we know that’s not true. Who else would listen to you wax poetic about Phil?”

Again the three laughed together. “I’m still without anything to do this afternoon,” Dan pointed out.

“Can’t you just break in?” Tyler suggested. “I do that at my house all the time.”

“My mom routinely locks all the windows so mine is the only one open and there’s no way I can get to the second floor.”

“You could hang out with Sean and Signe,” Louise offered. “I’m sure they’d at least try to contain themselves while you’re around.”

“Yeah, but even when they’re not trying to climb into each other’s mouth I still always feel like I’m third wheeling so fucking hard. And not like tricycle third wheel either.”

“Why don’t you just go hang out at the coffee house on your own or go nerd shopping?” Zoe recommended. “You have your phone and headphones, right? Just sit in a corner and ignore everyone.”

Dan let out a long suffering sigh. “I guess that’s my only option, unless I want to go to the library or something.” He sighed and complained, “Why is there nothing to do here?”

“There’s plenty to do, you’re just too immersed in your laptop to experience any of them,” Louise laughed. “Chummy and I can always find plenty to do.”

“You have no idea what a town with nothing to do looks like, sweetheart,” Tyler scoffed. “Jackson was like a third this size and a good hour away from anything even remotely interesting.”

“Yeah, well, this place being better than your hometown is zero help right now. Somebody give me something to do.”

“You could just Google it and do the tourist-y things that pop up,” Zoe beamed. “Me and Alfie did that one time and it was loads of fun.”

“That sounds like a really great date,” Dan agreed, a dash of sarcasm in his tone. “However, since I’m a sexually ambiguous nerd who can’t properly talk to anyone outside of you guys, there’s very little chance of me getting a date any time soon. Plus it’s pouring and I wouldn’t want to wander around Reading in the rain even if I had a date.” Tyler took this moment to mutter about how he’d done it for Phil before, but quieted down when Dan gave him a stern glance.

“Well, whatever you decide to do, I wish you luck,” Louise said, taking out her phone to check the time. “However, Chummy and I must be getting on as our train leaves in less than an hour.”

“Bye, Louise. Bye Zoe,” Dan and Tyler chimed together. The two girls laughed and gave their final farewell hugs before leaving, leaving Dan and Tyler alone.

“So, who is this guy, anyway?” Dan asked, picking at his fingernails.

“Uh, his name is Michael and I met him on Tinder.”

“Phil’s middle name-”

“Is Michael. Yes, I know,” Tyler teased. “You’ve told us all more than once.”

Dan merely rolled his eyes and said, “So, Michael. Is this a guy you might actually like to date or is he just a casual hookup?”

“I don’t know, honestly,” Tyler shrugged. “He seemed nice enough while we were messaging but not exactly my kind of guy, you know? I may just keep in contact with him to hang out with on Fridays when I’m bored because somebody is too invested in Mario Kart to go party with me.”

“Please. You and I both know that I’m probably the last person you’d want to go with you to a party. I’d just stand awkwardly in a corner playing on my phone all night and making everyone who dared to talk to me feel bad because they wouldn’t understand a single word I mumbled.”

Tyler cast him yet another sympathetic look and Dan swore he was going to rip his eyebrows out if another person looked at him as if he was the dog they were leaving behind at the shelter. “Have you considered hanging out with Carrie this afternoon? Like, I know you said you weren’t doing theatre this year-”

“The four hours I spent locked in a janitor’s closet for being in the school play said I wasn’t doing theatre this year.”

Tyler narrowed his eyes at the interruption, but continued. “Anyway, you said you weren’t going to be in the play, but I’m pretty sure they’re just doing like pre-pre-pre-play stuff today. Hanging up posters and the like. I mean, it’s something at least.”

Dan considered his options for a moment. While he had sworn off acting for the year, he really liked most of the theatre kids he hung out with last time. Besides, it was completely harmless and he did always enjoy spending time with Carrie. “Yeah, I suppose. Anyway, if it is horrible I can always pretend my grandma is in the hospital or something to get out of it.”

“That’s the Dan Howell spirit we all know and love,” Tyler grinned, clapping him on the back.

This will be fine. What could go wrong?

Act I Scene IV

There was no way this was happening.

“PJ, I can’t go in there,” Phil hissed, physically keeping his friend by his side and out of that room. For in that room sat none other than Dan Howell, looking perfect as always whilst he lounged next to Carrie, who was laughing along at something he said. “I thought you said he wouldn’t be here today!”

PJ shrugged, clearly not seeing the problem and Phil had never felt so betrayed. “He said he wasn’t coming back last year, but maybe he changed his mind. Or maybe he’s just helping a friend hang posters. Who knows? You might if you go in there and talk to him.”

“I can’t let him see me like this,” Phil refused. “I took out my contacts last lesson because my eyes were all itchy and the redness still hasn’t gone down and I look terrible.”

“Maybe he’s into the whole robot look.”

“You’re not helping!”

“Look, mate,” PJ sighed. “You can stay and help or you can go home and sulk, but either way I’ve got to be in there to take charge of this whole shindig and I can already feel Sophie glaring at me for being late. I know you don’t look one hundred percent your best ever but it’s a Monday afternoon after school and nobody looks great, and I swear to god if you tell me Dan looks amazing I will never let you borrow my Legend of Zelda games ever again.” Phil gave him a sheepish grin. “And for what it’s worth your face shape works really well with those glasses and the redness is pretty much gone.”

Phil smiled softly at his friend. “You always know what to say, Peej.”

PJ smirked and winked back at him. “It truly is a gift. Now come on, let’s go hang some posters and get some theatre nerds hyped about a play.”

As the two walked in a kind of hush fell over the gathered students and Phil couldn’t help but notice the panicked look Dan gave Carrie as he passed by them, taking a seat next to Chris and Alexandra. He leaned over to point it out to Chris, but he merely shot him a look before pointedly focusing on PJ and Sophie at the front of the room. Phil huffed; he knew why he was being shushed, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Okay, everyone, thanks for being here!” PJ beamed at the eight students sprawled across various chairs and desks. “We really appreciate your help. Does anyone have any questions?”

“Why don’t you tell them what exactly it is that they’re helping with?” Sophie suggested from behind him with a smile and a fond roll of the eyes.

PJ gave her a crooked grin in thanks before returning his attention to the crowd. “Right, I should. Well, as you all should know the school puts on a musical every spring, and if you didn’t know then you do now. Anyway, as this is our last year Mr. Walters has agreed to put on a play that Sophie and I wrote, and he’s put us in charge of everything from production to advertisement. Today we’re putting up posters around the school to let everyone know about the auditions that are happening next month, giving them plenty of time to pluck up the courage to sign up since that’s probably the hardest part of school plays for a lot of us.” There were a few scattered chuckles, and PJ carried on. “Since there are ten of us and five main areas we need to put these up, we’re going to be splitting into teams of two, and each team is going to get twenty posters to hang up. Yeah, it sounds like a lot, but we want these everywhere. I don’t want there to be a single person at this school who doesn’t know about this play. That means staple them to bulletin boards, hang them up on those weird clothes pin things outside the art room, tape them on every door and stairwell you can find. So yeah, I mean it when I say everywhere.”

“Alright then,” Sophie chimed in. “After that rousing speech, everyone pick a partner and we’ll arm you with a stapler, tape, clothespins, blu tack and more posters than you’ll know what to do with. Go!” Phil swore he saw PJ, Carrie, and Chris all share a look, but he brushed it off to partner up with Chris, only to find that he had already linked arms with Alexandra. He glanced around the room to see that PJ and Sophie were obviously in each other's pockets, Carrie was chatting with Matt, and Tom and Gi were leaned against one another playing some kind of app on Tom’s phone leaving-

“Uh, hi again?”

Phil whipped his head around to see Dan standing in front of him with a bit of red tinting his ears. “Your friend abandon you, too?” Phil chuckled. When Dan didn’t answer and just continued blinking at him, Phil flushed bright red immediately starting to back track. “Not that I’m saying- Well, what I mean is more that- You see what I’m trying to say is-” he finally sputtered to a stop. “Sorry?”

Dan blinked at him a couple more times before realization dawned on his face and he blushed to match Phil. “No, no it’s fine, I promise! I’m not offended or anything! Carrie did totally ditch me to partner with Matt. I was just really distracted by your glasses; I didn’t know you wore them.”

Phil chuckled nervously, scratching behind his neck. “Yeah, they’re- yeah. They’re kinda big and dumb looking so I try not to wear them at school too much.”

“It’s not that,” Dan mumbled, looking down and to the left while shooting Phil looks from beneath his lashes. “They actually really suit you. They make you look really smart I guess.” He flushed a bit darker before adding, “I like them.”

Well, if Phil wasn’t about to pass out before from how adorable and shy Dan looked he definitely was now. Dan liked his glasses. Dan Howell liked his glasses. He took a moment to gather himself before he could blurt out that he was about to call the optometrist and tell her to cancel all his contact orders from now until forever because Dan Howell liked his glasses. “Thanks, that means a lot,” he said instead. “I don’t really like them all that much so they can use all the love they can get from other people.”

Dan sputtered out an abrasive laugh which garnered a couple people’s attention and made Phil’s chest feel like it had been filled with warm helium before Dan slapped his hands over his mouth to muffle it. Phil considered telling Dan his hands would would better suited in Phil’s instead of quieting the music that was his laugh, but decided that was maybe a little forward. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you wearing your glasses if you hate them so much?”

“Oh, sometimes my contacts can bother my eyes and last period they were really itchy and so I took them out instead of trying to rub my eyeballs into the back of my skull.”

Phil mentally slapped himself for actually saying that out loud, but Dan just giggled. “Well, I hope they’re feeling better. I noticed you had some red in your eyes, so I’m glad it’s nothing serious.”

At the mention of red Phil slammed his eyes shut and covered them with his hands. “PJ said the red was all gone!” he whined.

Dan immediately started flapping his hands nervously. “No, no it’s fine! It’s hardly noticeable at all! I only noticed because I was staring at your face up close, and oh my god, I can’t believe I said that out loud. Someone please stop me.” By the end of his sentence Dan was a darker red than Phil previously thought possible and looked just about ready for the world to split in half and swallow him whole. He was adorable, and Phil was about to die.

“Nah, I get it,” Phil chuckled with a smile. “You said the glasses were distracting so it makes sense for you to stare.”

Dan opened his mouth like he was about to argue Phil’s point, but there was a cough behind Phil and they both turned to see PJ standing there with a stack of flyers in his hands and a knowing smirk on his lips. “Well, since the two of you were too busy - um, let’s say talking - to come up and pick an area to work in the only one left is the gym and lunchroom, so I hope the two of you brought umbrellas.” Dan looked absolutely panic stricken at the thought of needing an umbrella, much to Phil’s confusion, but PJ simply carried on. “Sophie has the stuff to hang these up with so you two need to get going or we’re still going to be here when school lets in tomorrow.”

Phil groaned melodramatically and accused PJ of forsaking him and throwing him to the depths of hell, but still smiled and thanked Sophie - who was giggling behind her hands - when he got their tools. The only problem was that Dan was strangely quiet the entire time, and not in the adorably shy way he was earlier that afternoon when they were walking to class together. No, this was more akin to the silence of a man being lead to the gallows, and that just wasn’t going to work in Phil’s book. “Hey, are you okay?”

Dan gnawed his bottom lip for a moment before sighing and saying, “I’m really not sure if I want to tell you. Like on one hand it’s really not that big of a deal, and avoiding it is only going to make it way worse, but on the other hand it’s really embarrassing, and I don’t like talking about it.”

Phil hummed in thought, tapping his chin and looking Dan up and down through squinted eyes. To most it might look like he was just observing the younger boy to come up with some sort of plan, but in reality he was just taking the opportunity to check him out. “What if I hum and then you say it really quickly and if I hear you, I can pretend I didn’t understand and if I didn’t hear you then you at least got it off your chest and you don’t have to worry anymore.”

Dan laughed and smiled so hard his eyes were almost completely closed. “You are such a strange person, Phil Lester,” he said with what Phil was adamantly interpreting as fondness.

“You know, you’re actually not the first person to tell me that.”

Dan rolled his eyes but he still had that grin so Phil didn’t take it to heart. “Unfortunately, that plan won’t work, so I’m just going to tell you, but you can’t make fun of me, okay?” Phil nodded eagerly, knowing that there was no way he could ever deliberately make Dan feel bad about himself. Dan took a deep breath and quickly said, “MyhairisnaturallyreallycurlysoIstraightenitbutwhenitgetswetitgetscurlyagainandit’srainingandIdidn’tbringanything.”

Phil blinked, trying to process what he just heard until it finally clicked and he beamed. “Why didn’t you say so?! You can borrow my coat.”

Dan’s eyes bugged out at the very idea. “I can’t just take your coat! What are you going to wear? It may be a short walk, but you’ll still wind up soaked by the time we get inside.”

Phil shrugged. “Well, any way you look at it, one of us is going to look like a drowned rat by the end of this no matter what. You seem to be a lot more worried about it than me, so why shouldn’t you be the one to stay dry? Besides, I have a change of clothes in my bag since I’m meeting up with my family for dinner after this. Take the coat, Dan.”

“But Phil-”

“Too late!” he sang, pulling his arm out of the sleeve. “I’m taking it off and I’m not going to put it back on until it’s time to leave. If you don’t take it then the poor coat will just sit here and be useless while we both get wet. Do you want my coat to feel that way, Dan?”

Dan giggled at his overreaction, but took the coat with a gentle smile. “Thanks, Phil. I mean it.”

“No problem,” Phil smiled back. “But now you do have to hold the flyers and stuff. Just shove them under your jacket so they don’t get wet.”

Dan nodded and took the papers. “Alright then, let’s do this.”

Act I Scene V

“Oh my god, Louise, it was amazing,” Dan gushed over the phone. He had tried texting Louise but he was way too excited and his fingers kept slipping and pretty much everything he wrote had more exclamation points than actual letters. “How do we have so much in common and I never knew it?”

“Maybe because you only ever stalked him instead of talking and sharing your interests?” she teasingly suggested.

“You can’t tell but I’m giving you a dirty look right now,” Dan pouted, tracing his finger over the numbers written on the Post-It note Phil had given him. “And there will be plenty of actual talking between the two of us now, since he gave me his number.”

Louise squealed across the line. She had never made it a secret that Phil wasn’t her first choice for Dan’s big crush, but she had to admit that the fact that Dan was so over the moon for him was precious, and anything that made Dan happy made her happy. “Oh my god, really? What happened?”

“Well, we had to go out to the gym to hang posters and since it was pouring I was complaining about my hair-”

“Like you always do.”

“Shut it. Anyway, he insisted that I used his jacket to keep dry and at the end of the day it was still raining so he told me to keep it and I could text him about returning it later,” Dan sighed happily, reliving every moment of the afternoon in perfect clarity. “Louise, it was amazing. He’s amazing.”

“Have you texted him yet?” Louise demanded. “You have to tell me everything when you do.”

“I don’t want to return his jacket yet,” Dan admitted. He hadn’t told Louise that it was warm and smelled like Phil and that was why he didn’t want to lose it but he was pretty sure she knew. “What if I text him and all he wants to talk about is getting his coat?”

Louise sighed and Dan knew she was her rolling her eyes. “You’re being ridiculous, you know that, right? Of course he doesn’t want to just talk about that. Giving someone your coat as an excuse to keep talking to someone is one of the oldest tricks in the book. I’m pretty sure it’s been a thing since coats were invented.”

“I don’t know, Louise,” Dan said, biting his thumb nail. “I mean, Phil’s just a really nice person. He was probably just giving me his coat because it was nice. He’s not really the type to play tricks like that.”

“Everyone play tricks, even if it’s subconscious,” Louise dismissed. Dan could almost see her nodding sagely. “He probably did give you the jacket because you needed it, but the phone number was just so the two of you can talk. If he really was only interested in the coat then he would have just set up a time to get it back when he gave it to you.”

“You really think so?” Dan asked nervously. “What if I make a fool of myself and he never speaks to me again?”

“Number one that won’t happen. Number two, even if it does are you really in any worse of a boat? It’s not like you were actually talking to him before this anyway.”

“You’re being super unhelpful and also the absolute worst.”

“You love it. Now text that lion loving nerd and make sure I’m your maid of honor at the wedding.”

“What do I even say?” Dan whined.

“Just introduce yourself, you complete dollop head. Just say ‘Hi, this is Dan!’”

Dan sighed dramatically, flopping back and extending out three of his long limbs. He winced when they all settled into that nice stretched feeling and quickly changed phone hands so he could do that last one as well. “Fine, I’ll do it as soon as I get off the phone with you.”

“Oh, well, in that case my mother has been calling me to come downstairs for about five minutes and I’m definitely not making this up so you have to text Phil.”

“Louise I hate you!”

“Love you, too!” she cackled, sending a couple kissing noises across the line before hanging up.

Dan groaned and glared at his phone for abandoning him, hoping that Louise would somehow be able to feel it. After a moment he sighed and pulled up messages and tapped “Compose”

To: Phil 5:44

hello! this is dan the guy u left your coat with this afternoon lol.

Dan closed the app to open YouTube, not expecting a response any time soon, but before he could finish pulling up his subscription box his phone buzzed.

From: Phil 5:47

Hi!! How was your walk home? Did you stay dry and everything? I would have given you a ride, but I was already late to meet my parents. I’m sorry. :(

Dan took a moment to breathe calmly but quickly gave up in favor of squealing in delight as he rolled back and forth, clutching his phone to his chest. He just had to tell Louise.

To: The Mum Friend 5:49

omg hes so nice. like he asked if i stayed dry on the way home and apologized for not driving me home himself #phillesterangelconfirmed

To: Phil the Actual Angel 5:51

dw about it ^-^ i stayed pretty dry. yhanks to you i don’t look like a hobbit reject.

From: Phil the Actual Angel 5:54

Lol any Hobbit that rejects you is missing out on making their Hobbit village cuter than all the other ones. You can come join my elf city and we can be too tall together.

To: The Mum Friend 5:57

LOUISSE HE CALLERD ME CUTER IM DYING SEND HELPP

To: Phil the Actual Angel 5:58

lets be honest wed both be loners. im too tall for the hobbits and ur too clumsy for the elves.

From: Phil the Actual Angel 6:00

Why must you crush my dreams Danyul? :’< I’m not that clumsy

To: Phil the Actual Angel 2:02

i think the paint still stuck in my hair from where u knocked me into the art supplies in the prop room would beg to differ.

From: Phil the Actual Angel 2:04

Okay, I GUESS that’s a fair point. And hey, as long as we’re outcasts together that’s not too bad in my book. ^-^

To: Phil the Actual Angel 2:04

my my phillip r u flirting with me?

From: Phil the Actual Angel 2:05

That depends entirely on if it’s working :D Hey, by the way, what lunch do you have?

Dan frowned at the sudden topic change, but shook his head and went along with it for now.

To: Phil the Actual Angel 6:06

i have 2nd y?

From: Phil the Actual Angel 2:07

You do? That’s the same one I have? How come I’ve never seen you? D:

To: Phil the Actual Angel 2:08

probs because i sit with my friends and we try to avoid human interaction lol

From: Phil the Actual Angel 2:10

Same, honestly. Do you think you and your friends would want to come and eat lunch with me and mine tomorrow? We usually sit out under the tree next to the front office.

To: Phil the Actual Angel 2:11

i am so sorry can i answer you in a sec my mum wants me

Dan took a deep breath, trying not to panic. He quickly dialed up Louise and waited with bated breath as it rang again and again and again and again and ag-

“Dan? What can-”

“HE ASKED ME TO EAT LUNCH WITH HIM TOMORROW!” Dan shouted before she could finish her greeting.

“Wait, hold on a minute. Who did what now?”

“Phil! He asked me to eat lunch with him tomorrow!” he repeated in a much quieter but no calmer tone. “Well, actually he asked me to ask all of you if you might be interested in eating lunch with his group tomorrow. What should I even say to that? ‘Yes, I’d like to eat lunch with you tomorrow and every following day for the rest of our lives’?”

“You could always just say you’ll ask,” she said with an underlying laugh. “I don’t see a problem with us sitting with them, though. All of us like meeting new people so it should be fun.”

“You mean it? Everything will be fine?”

“I’m sure of it, and if anyone says otherwise, I’ll wallop them on the head.”

“You’re the best, Louise.”

“I know it. Now go set up your lunch date already.” And with that the line clicked dead and Dan was once again left alone with his phone.

To: Phil the Actual Angel 5:14

sorry! my mum is v demanding sometimes T_T but yeah lunch tomorrow sounds great! all my friends like meeting new people so it should be lots of fun

From: Phil the Actual Angel 5:16

Don’t worry about it! ^-^ So you want to just meet at the tree or in the lunchroom or what?

To: Phil the Actual Angel 5:18

i think we can find our way to the tree so that should be fine ^-^ see u tomorrow!

From: Phil the Actual Angel 5:20

It’s a date!

Dan gaped at his phone for a moment before calling Louise yet again to scream.

#phan #phanfiction #Phanfic #Phanfluff #high school au #slow burn #friends to lovers #light angst #mutual pining #Bee Writes

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writerlilahsuzanne · 4 years ago

Text

Adrift - A Tack & Jibe short

Bodhi must have been a dragonfly in a past life. Or maybe a frog or a turtle or something else that thrives in the mess and muck of nature. It would explain how her body and soul settle and still out here in the Sound where the brackish water is placid, where it’s as if her kayak is slicing through a sheet of opaque glass.

She has mud and up to her knees from dragging her kayak through the surrounding wetlands, her long sun-streaked blonde hair sticks in sweaty clumps to her neck and forehead, and her own earthy scent swirls around her in the slow, heavy breeze: dirt and musk and patchouli shampoo and coconut sunscreen and lemon-eucalyptus bug spray that only sort of works.

When Bodhi was younger, her moms would have to beg her to come inside and take a bath, to sit at the table like a civilized person and do homework or chores that she never quite saw the point of. Why work on long division when she could climb a tree? Why study old men and the dates of wars when she could scoop tadpoles from a creek. Isn’t that more real? Life squiggling in her cupped palms, sturdy branches holding her, safe, up in the sky? And anyway, her moms always encouraged her to be free and wild and so she is.

It’s meditative, the rhythm of her paddles dipping in and out of the water; one side, then the other. Gentle waves glide along her boat, the seagrass and wild oats dance to the wind, the trees set farther back rustle with life. Along the way, Bodhi spots a flock of Redhead ducks that float in a clump near the shore, Seagulls and Royal Terns loudly scavenge for food and fish, Cormorants fly high above. She even spots a Great Blue Heron, long-legged and graceful and impossibly huge, picking its way slowly through the shallows. The Great Heron spreads its wings suddenly, perhaps startled by Bodhi and her bright red kayak, and takes flight. Bodhi drifts and watches it soar across the sky. Perhaps she was a bird, before, in a different life. She could spend hours or even days out here, all alone among the for birds.

“Hey, can we make a pit stop at the Visitor Center?”

She isn’t all alone. “Sure.” Bodhi smiles back at Hunter who is keeping pace behind Bodhi in her own kayak. Bodhi doesn’t mind the company, she’s out here with friends often, in fact, a whole group of them paddling the sound, or sailing between and around the chain of islands that make up the Outer Banks, or hiking through the dedicated nature preserve that takes up nearly half of this island. Hunter is around a lot lately. Like, always around a lot lately. Bodhi isn’t sure what she should take from that, exactly.

The Porter Island Visitor Center comprises two single-room buildings, one a museum-slash-information center, one a gift shop, both raised up a few feet on decks that connect via a weathered wooden walkway. There’s an outbuilding-type bathroom—barely more high-tech than an outhouse—and in the gift shop there’s a much nicer air-conditioned single stall restroom. They dock, and Hunter heads toward the gift shop.

When Bodhi moved here several years ago with her moms, the Visitor Center was one of their first stops. It was so quaint; a little sand- and salt-speckled shack with lighthouse and beach themed goods for sale. In the adjacent museum there is an entire wall dedicated to the years Blackbeard the pirate used the island’s shallow sound as a refuge in his downtime between the murders and pillages. There’s another whole wall about the island’s lighthouse. But Bodhi quickly adapted from suburban to tiny-island style living and now can’t imagine ever being anywhere else.

Bodhi idly browses the small sea-themed trinkets and a few racks of postcards, a shelf of hats and one of Porter Island t-shirts. There’s a section dedicated to books by local authors and books about local history and about the flora and fauna of the island. Bodhi flips through a book about seabirds. When Hunter emerges from the bathroom, she scans the gift shop until she finds Bodhi, then smiles like the sun coming out. Huh. That’s new.

“Ready?” Hunter freshened up while she was in the bathroom; her hair is smoothed down and damp with water instead of sweat, her light makeup touched up, and there’s no trace of dirt or grime. It’s interesting only because Hunter typically isn’t very fussy about that sort of thing. Sometimes, but she’s usually chill about... Well, everything. That’s why Bodhi likes hanging out with her. And doing other stuff with her.

“Yup. Ready.”

As they head out of the store, though, Hunter stops at the checkout counter and snags a giant sun hat from a spinning rack. “You’re so fair; you should get this.” She plops it on Bodhi’s head as the young-looking cashier watches them with obvious interest.

“This hat is like, excessive,” Bodhi says, tugging at the extremely wide brim. It’s one of those floppy sun hats, a rich lady sipping cocktails while on a yacht type hats. “Anyway, the sun is good for you.” Bodhi hooks the ridiculous hat back onto the rack. Cashier Boy’s mouth flicks up into a tiny smile. He’s cute. Too young, though, probably only eighteen or nineteen, Bodhi would guess. Bodhi is a little unsettled by that; being at a stage in her life now that someone that age would be too young for her to be interested in. Is this what getting old and mature feels like? Gross.

“The sun is good for you in small doses.” Hunter moves in closer still, brushes her thumb across Bodhi’s cheekbone. “All of those gorgeous freckles won’t be so lovely when they turn into melanoma.” Bodhi wrinkles her nose. Hunter’s thumb lingers at the corner of her jaw. Hunter’s eyes are pretty, Bodhi thinks. Like, she knew that but she hadn’t paid that much attention to them before. Well, she has. Just not this much. They’re like, ochre. Or a tiger’s eye gemstone.

“You guys are a cute couple.”

Bodhi startles and moves backward; Hunter’s hand briefly hovers mid-air then falls away. “No, we’re—” Hunter says, as Bodhi stutters out, “We aren’t— We’re—” But what even are they? A summer hookup that’s lasted four summers and now more? Friends, now that Hunter lives on Porter Island full time? Really good friends? Really good friends who hook up sometimes, but then go for long stretches without hanging out at all because it gets too intense too fast and yet they keep finding their way back together, as if it’s something cosmic or inevitable but neither of them really want it to be, unless they do?

It’s too complicated, too much to understand yet alone explain so Bodhi finishes her thought with a casual shrug.

It’s whatever.

“We should get back out there,” Hunter says, saving them all from the awkward moment. Bodhi doesn’t do awkward, so she’s grateful.

Back out on the water, Bodhi can’t seem to lose herself in the natural world like she always does. The cashier’s comment, and Hunter’s face after… Her own vehement reaction… Why Hunter has been around so much lately…

“Do you want to stay over tonight?” Hunter calls, trailing behind Bodhi’s kayak once again.

They usually end these excursions by falling into someone’s bed, or sleeping bag, or boat, or, once, a rustic treehouse. And usually it’s casual. It’s chill. Neither of them care to put a label on it because it’s just sex but if things have changed for Hunter, that means Bodhi should probably put a stop to it. Hunter’s her friend and that means something to Bodhi. She doesn’t hurt her friends, not on purpose.

“I dunno. I have to work early.” She never really has to work, let alone early, her moms are cool with Bodhi helping at the sailing shop they own whenever she’s in the mood to help. More or less. She probably should go in though, so it’s not a total lie. “But we can hang after if that’s chill.”

Bodhi can’t see her, and doesn’t crane around to look, but she can hear the disappointment in Hunter’s voice all the same. “Sure yeah, it’s chill.”

Bodhi is now certain that it’s anything but.

+++

At dusk, Bodhi sets up shop on the back deck, a packed bowl on the glass table in front of her, her bare feet propped up next to her phone, a full backpack ready to go next to her reclined patio chair. She waits.

The location is always a secret until the very last moment; a precaution so no one reports their activities and sends everyone scurrying away and they miss the entire event. Tonight an event Bodhi has been waiting for, since she missed the last one. Accidentally fell asleep, her own fault. Her friend on the inside will text her when it’s go time, so Bodhi watches the sun go down and the moon come out as her eyelids grow heavier and her mind and body relax. But not too relaxed; not this time.

She planned to go with Hunter tonight but…

“Hey.” Willa slides the back door open. Her curly hair is extra wild tonight; Bodhi loves that. She loves that her roommate and best friend is both predictable—never late for a shift at the sail shop, never oversleeps, never once missed a bill’s due date—and also totally off the rails unpredictable. Bodhi really never knows what Willa will do next. She’s predictable in her unpredictableness.

“Whoa, galaxy brain moment.”

Willa’s eyes narrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” Bodhi drops her feet to the deck. “‘Sup dude. Join me.”

Willa picks up the bowl and then holds it away from her, skeptical-like—sometimes she’ll partake, sometimes she won’t, but she always grabs first and hesitates later—then sits at the table next to Bodhi and picks up the blown-glass bowl and lighter.

“What are you doing tonight?”

A flame lights Willa’s face, she smokes and coughs and croaks, “Mostly questioning all of my life choices.”

Bodhi laughs, Willa is always so funny, even when she doesn’t mean to be. Especially then. “Same. But like,” Bodhi loses her train of thought when a cloud passes over the dimly lit moon. It’s wicked. What was she— “Oh. Yo, come with me tonight.” It’s not usually Willa’s scene, this sort of thing, but Bodhi couldn’t say with certainty what Willa scene really is except like, nothing or everything or… Something. Anyway, Bodhi doesn’t want to go alone, and that’s the relevant point.

Willa squints one eye closed, and fixes Bodhi with the other. “Sit around outside in the dark for hours, get eaten alive by mosquitos and no-see-ums while we wait for something that might happen?”

Bodhi grins. “Hell yeah.”

“I thought you were going with Hunter.”

Bodhi waves a hand in the air. She means it to be exactly as vague as it is.

“What’s up with you two?” Willa takes the bowl again and manages not to cough, and sits back more comfortably in her chair. There was time, at the very beginning, that Bodhi thought she and Willa might be something more than friends. First of all, Bodhi was very into the hot skater chick thing, and Willa is smart and determined and super fun besides, but she’s glad they only ended up friends. Bodhi gets a little emotional thinking about not having Willa around and has to smoke a little more weed to settle herself down.

“C’mon, come with me,” Bodhi tries again, when she’s sure she won’t sound too invested in Willa’s answer. “It’s cool, I promise.”

“Another night I would, I’m just so tired with everything going on and—”

Bodhi's phone goes off with a text, and she scrambles to get it. It’s the coordinates for tonight, so it’s now or never, or least not for another several weeks at least. And yet, Bodhi stays in her chair and watches her phone go dark again. “Maybe I’ll skip it,” she says it mostly to herself. “I don’t really want to go alone.”

Willa looks at her with alarm. She’s not the only one. Since when does Bodhi care about doing things alone? Since now, apparently.

“Bo, is it possible you miss Hunter? I mean you two were like, glued together and now you aren’t even speaking to her.”

It won’t be the same without Hunter there. That’s the issue. But why? Too stoned for this conversation and these thoughts, Bodhi’s mind is a jumble of feelings and half-formed ideas and spiraling tangents. She doesn’t have an answer for Willa, or herself, so she shrugs, as if she doesn’t care. She does, though. Too much. Way too much.

Willa stands, grabs the bowl and lighter from the table and plops Bodhi’s backpack into her lap. “Go watch your turtle eggs hatch.”

Federal law prohibits the sea turtle rescue organization from posting the location of active nests. It keeps the turtles safe and keeps flocks of tourists from gathering en mass on the beaches and bothering everyone who lives nearby. Bodhi’s friend Kea volunteers for the organization, she regularly patrols the beaches looking for nests and collects data, keeping tabs on the number of hatchlings that conquer the hard-won journey out to sea.

“You made it.” Kea keeps her voice low and ducks in for a quick hug.

The sea turtle rescue organization has already roped off a small section of the beach, and a handful of volunteers mill around nearby. There’s about ten other people gathered farther back, including a family with two young kids. Bodhi wonders if their parents are aware that they’ll likely be up until morning. Her moms brought her to a few of these hatchings when she was a kid, so she doesn’t judge. It’s cool, actually.

Kea goes off to take some measurements of the nest and count the eggs. It’s a Hawksbill nest, they think, so there are likely hundreds of babies getting ready to hatch. Bodhi finds a spot back with the rest of the non-volunteers. The kids are digging holes in the sand and jumping in and out of them, though their parents are making sure they don’t get too loud or wound up. Bodhi’s buzz has worn off. The night is humid and sticky. She does miss Hunter.

“Did you know sea turtles can hold their breath for seven hours?” Bodhi says to the kids when they scurry past her. They both stop. “And some kinds of sea turtles eat jellyfish.” Bodhi glances back to the parents to make sure they don’t mind her talking to their kids. “Do you guys already know that the babies have to find their way to the ocean all by themselves?” They both nod, in sync. She guesses one or both of them has an interest in sea turtles and probably have a few facts collected of their own. They’re quiet for a few beats, and then the smaller one asks,

“How?”

Bodhi tips her head. “How do they find the ocean?”

“Yeah… Yeah 'cuz if the mom leaves them and they’re just borned--”

“Born,” the other kid corrects.

“If they’re just born— How do they know where to go?”

Bodhi likes how innately curious kids are, how they instinctively yearn to explore the world around them and aren’t afraid to ask questions, to admit when they don’t understand things. She tries to keep that spirit alive in herself.

“Well,” Bodhi draws her knees up to her chest and smiles up at the kids. “Sea turtles are phototactic. Do you know what that means?” They shake their heads no. “It means they’re drawn to light. Like, when you have your porch light on at night and moths and other bugs all come to fly around it? Same thing. So when they’re born, the moon reflecting on the ocean tells them where to go. Cool right? Like, the moon and the ocean are calling to them, telling them where their home is.”

“Yeah!” says one.

“That’s why it has to stay dark,” the other one says, quiet, a little shyer than their smaller sibling.

Bodhi glances back to the parents again. “Right. And the beach at night can seem a little scary, but we’re totally safe and we want to make sure the baby turtles don’t get confused and go the wrong way. They could get too tired or hurt or a predator could get them and that’s not good.”

Bodhi talks sea turtle facts with the junior turtle enthusiasts a little longer, until Kea returns to announce two hundred and twelve eggs total.

“Can I take a peek?” Observers have to stay back, but Bodhi’s a regular at this point. Kea nods and leads Bodhi to the nest that’s illuminated only by the light of the moon.

“So when are you joining our ranks?” Kea asks while Bodhi crouches near the nest. She always asks that, when Bodhi will start volunteering for the rescue. Everyone else on the volunteer team is like, getting their PhD in turtle nesting or whatever, or else retired conservationists with more experience and knowledge than Bodhi will have in her entire life, so.

“Yeah, I’m good.” It sounds dismissive, she knows. As if she doesn’t care. But that’s better than everyone knowing she doesn’t have much to offer.

“All right, all right. You’d be so good in outreach and education, though. Especially with kids.”

Bodhi shrugs. Scratches her neck. “The trainings are too early…”

Kea wisely leaves it alone, though she changes the subject to something else Bodhi doesn’t want to talk about. “Oh, hey, where’s your girlfriend tonight? Hunter, right?”

+++

“I thought you were avoiding me?”

“I was.”

Hunter shifts in the doorway; her hips cocked, one arm braced against the doorjamb, the other stretched across. She’s tiny, a pixie with short brown hair and delicate features and round doe eyes, yet she takes up the entire doorway. “And?”

“And… Now I’m not?”

Hunter doesn’t move. She lifts an eyebrow. If she tells Bodhi to get lost—and she should—Bodhi will do it. But this is their dance: On and off, up and down, together and not. Hunter must be tired of it, though. Bodhi can tell because it’s usually Hunter who comes calling, and Bodhi who gives in once again. Bodhi says nothing and Hunter says nothing, then Hunter finally drops her arms and retreats into the muted cool of her condo, leaving the door open for Bodhi to come in.

This was easier when Hunter was only in Porter Island for the summer, four years of summer months working at one of her mom’s restaurants while she finished school. There was an end date, and Bodhi didn’t have to worry about what Hunter might want after that. Or what she wanted.

“How did the hatching go?” Hunter sits in a hard-backed leather chair, her arms and legs crossed. Hunter’s inherited home decor has always made Bodhi think of a law office waiting room, all heavy wood and leather and polished chrome. Such a contrast to Bodhi’s moms’ colorful bohemian vibe, or the kitschy beach-themed cottage she shares with Willa. The entire condo came as a gift, furniture and decor and everything, a life already chosen for Hunter.

“Good. Kea asked me to join their volunteer corps again.” Bodhi sprawls across the couch, her thighs stick to the black leather.

“You should.”

Bodhi shrugs. Hunter thinks she should do a lot of things. Bodhi sighs and stretches, her t-shirt and shorts bunch up, her hair falls loosely across her face. She knows what she’s doing, and it works. Hunter’s gaze shifts from exasperation to clear desire, and Bodhi wishes they could just keep things the same between them. It’s hot and fun and easy. Why does it have to get complicated just because Hunter moved here? “Look, Hunter. We’ve talked about this. I’m not looking for...” She leaves the statement unfinished because what is she looking for? A time machine? A way to capture the perfect summer fling and put it up somewhere for safekeeping, like fireflies captured in a jar?

“I’m aware.” Hunter’s lips press flat, her eyes flick away. She gets Bodhi. It’s too much, sometimes. “And I’m not asking you to.”

Bodhi sits up. “Okay, then… Okay.”

Sea turtles bury their eggs deep in the sand, Bodhi told the two kids she’d befriended yesterday. They stayed all night and, enraptured, watched the hatchlings take to the sea. Buried so deep that by the time the babies hatch and claw their way to the surface the mama turtle is long gone, far out to sea. One of the kids asked, eyes wide with hope, if they ever find each other, if they might meet up out in the ocean one day. The ocean is too big, their sibling answered, matter of fact. So, so huge it’s impossible. But Bodhi wondered if maybe they did. Despite the odds, perhaps they could find each other someday.

Bodhi stands and offers her hand, reaching out across the expanse. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

Hunter looks up. “You should have.”

“Yeah.” She should do a lot of things.

Hunter takes her hand and rises from the stiff chair, lips pouted and shoulders high. Bodhi tugs her close and kisses her until she stops frowning. Hunter releases a long breath and her body relaxes into Bodhi’s arms. She’s pliable and willing, and so Bodhi walks them to the bedroom and pulls off first Hunter’s clothes and then her own. She’s been with Hunter so many times that the taste of her is like coming home. She knows what makes Hunter sigh or moan or fist the sheets at her side or clutch fruitlessly at the carved oak headboard and it should bore Bodhi but it doesn’t at all. Being with Hunter, in bed or out, is easy. Why change that?

It’s quiet after, a heavy quiet, with Hunter curled at Bodhi’s side. Her fingers drift idly across Bodhi’s stomach.

“I applied to graduate school,” Hunter says, voice gone sex-rough. She clears her throat. “At UNC Wilmington, but also other schools that are… Well, farther away. My mom wants me to get serious about taking a regional manager position with the restaurant group. So. I wanted you to know that.”

“Cool,” Bodhi says. Her chest goes tight. “That’s chill.”

Hunter’s hand moves from Bodhi’s stomach, and she rolls away to find her clothes. “Ryan’s having a party tonight if you want—”

“Yeah, definitely.”

She met Hunter at a party like this one, with camping chairs gathered haphazardly around a fire, sand turned orange from the glow, the ocean so dark it bleeds into the sky, impossible to tell where one begins and the other ends.

Silhouettes move across the beach—dancing, laughing, tipsily leaning on one another. It seems to Bodhi as if she knows every single person on this island and has gone home with many of them and it’s so simple for her. It’s fun, like kayaking or sailing or free-falling off of a pier. She doesn’t need labels or relationships or complications. Or at least, she didn’t.

Hunter stays at her side all night, warm and happy. Bodhi keeps her arm slung around Hunter’s hips, a possessive gesture she rarely feels the need to make. She wants to keep her close by is all.

“I’m gonna get another,” Hunter says, waving an empty can in the air. Bodhi blames her own too many empties for tugging Hunter in close and kissing the top of her head. “Hurry back,” Bodhi says. She’s a very affectionate drunk, so she’s been told.

“Hey! Tell your girlfriend to bring her keg tap over!” Ryan is a loud drunk.

Bodhi ignores the first part. “What idiot is dragging a keg down the beach?”

“Me!” Ryan is fun, but… Well, he’s fun.

It’s not late, but Bodhi is already considering packing it in for the night. She’d rather stay in and hang out at Hunter’s, watch TV, smoke a bowl or two. God, she is getting old. If they leave to go get the keg tap, it’s very unlikely she’ll want to return. “Sorry, dude. Not tonight.”

Ryan boos at her and quickly gets distracted by someone who announces they brought vodka. Hunter returns and together they watch the vodka quickly disappear.

The party really is so much like the one where she met Hunter, and like so many more before that, and yet even Bodhi has to admit that it’s changing. Some people have moved on, and younger, wide-eyed and innocent faces have taken their place. The number of friends who have traded partying for jobs that have them up before sunrise is steadily growing, some even with new engagements and recently signed mortgages and 401Ks. Even Ryan is starting medical school in the fall. The guy who once did ten fireball shots in a row and had the brilliant idea to surf on the top of someone’s Jeep, fell off and found out two days later that he broke his arm in three places will be a doctor.

And next to go will be Hunter. Bodhi tugs her in close again.

+++

“Where’s your girlfriend?”

Bodhi is barely two steps into the marina when Mr. Kelley accosts her. “Why does everyone think we’re together?” Even her footsteps on the floating dock sound petulant, a sulking slap slap slap. Mr Kelley shrugs. He’s the owner of the marina next door to her parent’s sailing shop, and a family friend.

“I suppose you have a— You’re vibing.”

Bodhi pauses. “Mr. Kelley did you really say ‘vibing’?”

“I have nieces and nephews,” he defends. He’s white-haired and sun-worn with a slow, drawling accent and a heart of gold. “Anywho, let’s get to work.”

Once every summer, Mr. Kelley moves the long-time dockers and rental boats into a dry dock to scrape off the coatings of barnacles that have attached to the hulls, and after, applies a coating to slow the accumulation of the sticky little crustaceans. It’s difficult, dirty, exhausting work that Bodhi refuses to let Mr. Kelley do by himself.

“The bane of my existence,” Mr. Kelley says as they set to work on the first hull, while seawater still sluices off in rivulets. They’re definitely a nuisance, the barnacles, as they not only look unsightly but cause significant drag in the water and a waste of fuel in motorized vessels. Bodhi thinks they’re kinda neat, though.

“What’s really cool is like, their adhesive is one of the strongest substances on Earth. The tensile strength is crazy.”

Mr. Kelley grunts. “I believe it.”

They’re also super important to the ocean’s ecosystem since they clean the water like crusty little filters. They also eat with their legs and have the largest penis relative to body size of any animal. So that’s something. Which reminds her…

“Mr. Kelley,” Bodhi calls out over the frantic scraping. “How about you? Any new men you want to dish about?”

“Bah,” he says. “Men.” Which Bodhi takes as a no. Mr. Kelley spends all of his time out on this marina. Unless the perfect man comes sailing in one day and sweeps him off his feet, it’s never gonna happen. Bodhi tried to get him to join a dating app, but he waved her off and claimed he was too old.

Bodhi doesn’t bring it up again until they’ve finished one boat and started working on another. Her arms and shoulders are already sore, but in a good way.

“Let me set you up with someone.”

He sprays off his scraper with the hose, cups some fresh water in his hands, and splashes it on his face. “What is it you told me, Miss Bodhi? Love looks like a lot of things?” He sweeps his arms out toward the marina, the ocean, the sky. “What if this is my great love?”

Bodhi can’t argue with that. She could see herself ending up the same way, her love of the natural world around her could be enough to fill her heart. The thing is, though, she has strong feelings for Hunter. She can admit that. But what she wants to do with those feelings is the issue. She doesn’t really do monogamy and as much as she admires and appreciates her moms’ super-solid relationship, she just doesn’t think it’s for her. And so she’s at a fork in the road: be with Hunter, settle down, commit; or accept that Hunter will be the one that got away. Which can she live with?

The sun is sharp on her skin, sweat pools in her clavicles and between her shoulder blades and settles damply in the waistband of her shorts. She mops her face with the end of her shirt and takes a water break.

“Can I ask you, like. A totally non-judgmental question?”

Mr. Kelley’s face is red from exertion and the heat. He raises his eyebrows and comes to sit on the dock pile next to the one she’s perched on. “Okay, shoot.”

“Are you happy?” It seems like a rude question, but she thinks Mr. Kelley will understand what she means. He’s way chill for an old dude. “Like, actually happy out here alone, doing your own thing? Or would you trade it for something else— Or like, someone else?”

Mr. Kelley is thoughtful as he re-hydrates, then he sets his water bottle on the dock with a decisive thunk. “You get to be my age, Miss Bodhi, and you come to understand that some things just are what they are.”

Bodhi nods, squinting into the sun. “Yeah.” She feels like that now.

“Even still,” he continues. “You have but this one, bitty life to live and if you aren’t living in pursuit of the things—and the people—that make you happy, then what’s the point?” He fixes his pale blue eyes on her, somehow getting to the root of Bodhi’s question. “She makes you happy.”

Bodhi shifts on the dock pile, as if trying to move away from the accuracy of the statement. She nods again. “Yeah. She does.”

He stands with some effort and creakily picks up his barnacle scraper. Next year, she’s bringing other people to help with the operation; Mr. Kelley is going to seriously injure himself one of these days. Not that he’d let that stop him. “Then don’t be afraid to imagine what a life of happiness could look like with her. As you said yourself, love looks like a lot of things.”

Bodhi hops up to follow him back to the partially de-barnacled boat. “I have to say, I do not appreciate you using my words of wisdom against me Mr. Kelley.”

Hunter comes over that night, for sex and for dinner and to get stoned, in that order. Bodhi watches her cook linguine with clam sauce and allows herself to imagine it: Hunter there every morning, that faux-hawk bed-head her hair forms itself into and the way she always, very first thing, stumbles mostly asleep to the kitchen for a glass of water. She’s always parched when she wakes up but refuses to keep a water bottle by the bed because she claims it isn’t fresh enough. Bodhi imagines Hunter there to kiss her goodbye when she goes off to the sail shop or to sail or hike or kayak, Hunter there to greet her when she gets home. Dinner together every night. Regular dates with the same person. Regular sex with the same person.

Bodhi can easily use the blueprint of her parents’ incredible marriage to construct a healthy relationship of her own. She knows it takes sacrifice and selflessness and a willingness to put Hunter’s needs and wants in step with her own, always. Ahead of her own, even. But can that fit in with Bodhi’s more fluid definition of commitment? Would Hunter be okay with that? And what if she wants something Bodhi can’t give her?

Hunter sets two plates of food out on the table and gives Bodhi a concerned look before sitting down. “You okay?”

What if Bodhi is too selfish and too afraid of being constrained? If there were anyone that she could see a settled future with, it would be Hunter. If. Bodhi picks up her fork and plasters on a smile. “Definitely. Thanks for dinner.”

“No problem. Your turn next.”

Bodhi fake-smiles harder. “So have you heard from any of those grad programs yet?”

+++

Bodhi has spent the last two weeks at Hunter’s side, at Hunter’s condo, living out of a backpack that contains a toothbrush and two entire outfits that Bodhi swaps back and forth. She uses Hunter’s deodorant and shampoo and toothpaste and hairbrush until Hunter picks up extras for Bodhi at the store and stashes them all in an emptied out drawer. Bodhi spends a long time looking at that drawer. Her drawer. That she has at Hunter’s house.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to live with anyone,” Bodhi says one night while they watch a movie. She’s draped over Bodhi, legs entwined, her head rests on Bodhi’s chest and her arm is snug around Bodhi’s waist. Hunter shifts a little, presses a kiss right above Bodhi’s sternum. “Okay,” she says. It’s to her credit, Bodhi thinks, that she doesn’t full-out laugh in Bodhi’s face.

One morning, they wake up before dawn to go hiking. Bodhi wakes first, rubs her eyes with both hands and nudges Hunter awake with her foot. Hunter sits up, groggy and mussed, and blinks into the darkness for a while. She grunts and, predictably, stumbles to the kitchen for her morning glass of water. Bodhi’s stomach twists with a deep pull of affection. She makes Hunter eggs and toast with fruit and packs a backpack and they sail out as the sun is beginning to skim the edge of the stretch ocean behind the condo complex.

The trails out on the North Carolina coast are all flat, easy walks; certainly no comparison to the rigorous mountain trails on the other side of the state. But as much as Bodhi likes the challenge of mountain hikes, there’s something special about the maritime forest trails. When they arrive on a different Outer Banks island for their day’s adventure, the hike takes them from the ocean, up the sparsely populated beach, around though the soft dunes, down onto a long boardwalk built over a salt marsh, and on into the woods. Bodhi always marvels at how these towering trees of pine and holly and oak and maple can not only survive but thrive in such a place; how it grows from nothing but shifting sand, withstands harsh winds and hurricanes and sea spray and flooding, and has found a home for thousands of years on a little sliver of an island. She tells Hunter as much.

“The beauty of nature,” Hunter says, offering Bodhi a sip from her water bottle. “Stand back, trust that things will unfold as they should, and amazing things happen.”

Bodhi doesn’t call her out on the obvious metaphor.

On their way out of the trail’s loop, they encounter an older couple looking a bit bewildered. They pass by, then Bodhi doubles back.

“Afternoon.” They’re both wearing khaki safari hats, cargo shorts, and multi-pocketed khaki vests. One of them has binoculars slung over a shoulder, the other has a camera with a huge zoom lens.

“Awesome day for a hike, right?” Bodhi has found that asking people if they’re lost or need help rarely works. People don’t like to admit that they don’t know what they’re doing, even if they’re tourists who have obviously never been here before. But if she waits, they’ll usually bring it up on their own.

“Oh, yes. Hot though!”

Bodhi mmhmms

“Say, can you tell us if this is the Fort Macon Trail?”

“It is,” Bodhi says. “And you can start in this direction because it’s a loop, but if you want the full experience, start from the beach and head into the forest that way. Make sure you follow the trees with white dots once you’re under the canopy, the trail isn’t super obvious in some places.” They thank her and head into the woods first anyway. She waves, walking backward as she adds, because she has a hunch, “Keep an eye out for Painted Buntings! They migrate through here this time of year.”

They give each other a wide-eyed look of excitement and Bodhi smiles as she turns away. She knows a birdwatcher when she sees one, and the colorful member of the cardinal family is a unique find.

“They’re a threatened species,” she tells Hunter once she catches up to her. Hunter’s face reminds Bodhi of the time she studied for something for once in her life and got third place in a spelling bee and her moms sat in the front row, cheering as if Bodhi had received the Nobel Prize. “What?” Bodhi squints at her.

“Nothing, you’re—” She slips her hand into Bodhi’s hand even though it’s sweaty. “You’re good at that. How you share nature with people.”

Bodhi looks away and mumbles, “I only told them about a bird.” It’s not a big deal.

Hunter shrugs, the motion tugs Bodhi’s hand up and down. “Okay,” she says.

Hunter has left the brochures from various schools sitting out on her coffee table for weeks now. Bodhi has looked at them a few times in the same way she kept looking at the drawer of her stuff in Hunter’s house. It’s hers for the taking, so simple, just reach out and grab the hairbrush, Bodhi. Just open the brochure. Just claim what you want already. After their hike, back at Hunter’s condo, while Hunter is in the shower, Bodhi takes a breath and flips a brochure open.

Downtown Porter Island gets crowded as soon as the weather starts to warm, though “downtown” is a very generous term for two streets and a parking lot. Bodhi and Hunter and Bodhi’s Mom and Ma get ice cream cones and find an empty picnic table, baked from the sun, and try to eat faster than the ice cream melts.

“So, Hunter. How are we feeling about grad school? Excited? Nervous? Concerned that you may be only doing this because of the weight of your mother’s expectations?”

“Jeez, Ma. Sometimes the former high school guidance counselor in you really jumps right out.”

Robin gives a pained smile. “Sorry. Only making sure.”

Hunter licks around her ice cream cone and nods. “Actually, I’m excited. UNCW has a solid business management program and I think the job will suit me. I get to travel, meet new people. I’ll be stuck in an office a lot but…” She slides a knowing look to Bodhi. “I’m sure I’ll still spend lots of time enjoying the outdoors.”

Bodhi’s lemon sorbet gets a little stuck as she swallows.

“And it’s not too far,” Jenn, Bodhi’s mom, adds, likely for Bodhi’s benefit. “A quick ferry ride and a drive south a bit.” She pats Hunter’s arm. “Though of course we’ll miss seeing you all the time!” Bodhi swears she emphasizes the words all the time on purpose, also intended for Bodhi.

Hunter’s ice cream drips from the bottom of the cone, first a few drops, but then the soggy cone breaks away and a puddle of blueberry cheesecake quickly pools onto the table. “Shoot,” Hunter raises her sticky hands. “I’m gonna go get some napkins.”

“I’ll help,” Robin says.

As soon as they’re a few steps away, Jenn raises her eyebrows. “So.”

“So,” Bodhi repeats. She quietly eats her ice cream just long enough to bug her. If her Ma had stayed instead, she’d have been totally grilled by now, but Jenn likes to take the good cop role, usually. Bodhi spares her. “UNCW has a forestry degree.”

Her mom’s face plainly says she’s trying very hard not to react to that. “Oh? Is that so?”

“Mmmhmm.” Bodhi crunches into her cone. “It is so.”

Her mom pokes around her own cup of chocolate peanut butter cup with a wooden spoon. “You know, I was wondering how you were planning on handling the long distance relationship thing.”

Bodhi shakes her head. “We’re not in a relationship.”

“Enlighten me then,” her mom says. “What are you?” There’s no intent to argue there, only genuine curiosity and Bodhi can understand why. Even she isn’t sure how to define it, or if she ever really wants to. She’s come to realize that’s okay.

“She’s just— My person.” How else to explain it?

Jenn considers this, tips her head and swirls her ice cream thoughtfully. “Okay. I get that. And I’m excited for you, too. I think forestry is perfect for you, if you decide to pursue that. You know we always support you one-hundred percent, love.”

She does know it.

Hunter and her other mom are heading back, Bodhi watches them talk and laugh as they cross the street and it’s weird, it’s like her heart is bigger; stronger and brighter in her chest.

“I think it’s perfect, too.”

“And Hunter? Is she aware of how you feel?”

Bodhi doesn’t look away from Hunter’s approach, how right Bodhi’s life is when she’s around, how Hunter just knows somehow. “She does.”

She figured it out long before Bodhi ever did.

+++

It’s raining the day of the big protest in Wilmington. Fat drops of it make steam rise from the pavement as they all gather in place. Bodhi is sweltering inside of her raincoat. It does nothing to deter Bodhi and the other protesters, though, if anything it’s spurring them on. This is nature; it’s not always convenient. That’s the whole point.

The school is moving forward with plans to bulldoze an old-growth pine forest on the edge of campus to make way for a new practice field. Hunter has joined some other protesters in locking arms and forming a human blockade between the trees and bulldozers. Bodhi wasn’t crazy about her being directly in harm's way, but Hunter acknowledged Bodhi’s concerns and did what she knew was right anyway. And that’s what Bodhi loves about her.

“Did you know longleaf pine forests used to be one of the most extensive ecosystems across the South?” Bodhi offers a flyer to the small group scurrying by between classes. It’s fifty-fifty if anyone will take the flyer detailing the importance of pine forests and why they’re trying to save this one, and another one-out-three odds the flyer will end up directly in a trash can nearby. But Bodhi figures that's about one in six people who will read it and possibly be moved to join their cause. “And it’s also home to many plants and animals who don't live anywhere else in the world.”

Behind her, the bulldozers rumble.

“The forest you see behind me is nearly five hundred years old!” Aleksi, the leader of this and many other protests shouts through a megaphone. They have a shaved head and face full of piercings and the confidence and carriage of a leader. “It is home to at least thirty endangered species! Now I ask you, students, faculty, staff, esteemed guests, is this really worth sacrificing in order to give the athletic department yet another piece of our beautiful campus?”

The bulldozers finally leave at 7:30. The already gloomy day has grown darker. Everyone is exhausted and hungry and the construction crew will return the next morning, but the mood among all the protesters is jubilant. “The forest stands another day!” Aleksi calls, and everyone cheers. It’s decided that they’ll reconvene at a nearby vegan burrito place to celebrate and plan for tomorrow.

“I think I stared down that one construction worker for three solid hours,” Hunter laughs, lifting an umbrella someone gave her, a little too late, over both of their heads. Bodhi unzips her steamy raincoat.

“You were amazing.” Bodhi flaps her open raincoat in Hunter’s direction, trying futilely to dry her off even as the rain still splashes up from the pavement.

“Thanks.” Hunter drops a kiss on her lips. “Someone who was on the on the front line with me lives on campus and said they have some clothes I can borrow. Be right back.”

Bodhi watches her. An enormous part of her reluctance to commit to, well, anything, was because she was already happy. And what if she changed things and then she wasn’t happy? If it ain’t broke and all. But things change anyway, and like a fjord in a river, she might as well have some input on the direction of her own life. Nature is always changing, life is always and she has to learn when to change with it, and when to fight for the things that matter,

Aleski, in a black trench coat and black combat boots, approaches Bodhi. “Hey, I appreciate you two coming out. Hunter’s really a force, huh? Only quietly.” Aleksi laughs and Bodhi is fully drawn into their aura. Like, they’re super hot anyway, but it’s the charisma that really does it for Bodhi.

“Yeah, she’s something.” If Bodhi is a swiftly moving river, Hunter is a steady stream: under-appreciated and gentle, yet strong and steady enough to cut through a mountain.

Aleksi leans in, eyes lowered, intentions clear. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“No,” Bodhi says. Aleksi’s eyebrows lift. “She’s more than that.”

“Ah.”

Even now, Bodhi can’t quite put a label on their relationship, or if either of them ever really want to. It’s meant that Bodhi has to be more open and vulnerable, and Hunter more demanding of what she wants from Bodhi. Whatever it is, the two of them, it works. They love each other, they’re on the same page, and that’s enough. It’s more than enough.

Aleksi shifts away, their stoic face covering the sting of rejection.

“We’re usually open to a third, though.” Bodhi offers. Plenty of people aren’t really into that and that’s fine. Bodhi puts it out there only as an offer, nothing more. She’ll have to check in with Hunter first, anyway. Though Hunter’s gaze for Aleksi has been nothing short of awe and infatuation—and desire—from the moment the two of them met.

“Like a package deal?” Aleksi clarifies. They smile. It’s awfully charming. “I could be into that.”

Hunter appears from behind a building, now dry and wearing clothes that don’t quite fit. Bodhi’s heart soars. It’s incredible, Bodhi thinks. How rich her life has become by being open to love in all of its forms. Romantic love, sure. But love for her friends and family and the world around her. Although her path there has been a little erratic, adrift for a while in her own life and mind, in the end she got there.

Hunter holds her hand and, on the other side, Aleksi presses in close. Despite the heat and the rain and the exhausting day, Bodhi is buoyant. Her spirit is free.

And they will save that forest. Guaranteed.

Tack & Jibe

#short story #writing #original fiction #romance #my writing #writers on tumblr #Adrift #Tack & Jibe #Lilah Suzanne

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