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jungxk · 4 years

Text

just one (viii)

summary: the only guy on campus who’s track record trumped that of your best friend’s - park jimin - was jeon jungkook. not that that was a problem…until he set his sights on you.

notes: first of all i wanna thank the people who supported me and encouraged me through one of the worst writers blocks of my life. all the messages and comments are the reason why i finally managed to post this. special thanks to @whippedforkook for helping me with the monstrous tagging process as well as giving me so much praise. and also @lonelyending for cheering me on for a literal YEAR bc thats how long i cried over this fic! this story is so special to me. we’re in the home stretch now x

warnings: mentions of illegal drug use and distribution, swearing, brief smut.

genre: drama, romance, humour, college!au

wordcount: 8k

tagging: @cutechim @benz-biarritz @gyukult @bangulin @eatersanonymous @alyssa1926 @skivv1es @a-sucker-for-them-sappy-shit @moonights @jeymuffins @juuneaux @catsukiii @andreaisaac @whatheydontunderstand @sreveles @noruls619 @henryharios @just-a-fuxked-up-kid @befriendswithj @btsbesharam @poemsandpunani @taelha @misosoup-forthesoul @jikooksmut @heart-eyedmf @the-piano-woman @angrysunshine @chaoticpaperfanhoagie @jsungshine @ci-yen @faby-montana @shinypeanutsportshero @jooniestrivia @alucards-s @cynamyngirl @jiminie-angel @myskoova @jkshoneybuns @smokintae @remmykinsff @majinbuwu @jangx2manboongx2 @potatodogs @seul-queen @alpharyth @blenxxxg @plsky @th-singularity @bapbaptothetop @hermiones-enchantment @stomachfilledwithbutterflies @euphorora @supachloe94 @jiminxjimout @ggukkieland @just-another-fic-recs-blog @jalexad

part i // part ii // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii // part ix // part x

4 years ago

jimin hated yugyeom.

well, maybe hate was a strong word. he just didn't like talking to him, being around him, hearing his name or interacting with him on any level, social or otherwise. he really tried though, since he was one of jungkook's closest friends and still respectfully referred to him as hyung above all else. and if anything, jimin would always have a soft spot for jungkook, the kid he used to coddle when his own brother wasn't around. but having said that, there wasn't really much basis for not liking yugyeom. it was just a gut feeling jimin couldn't explain, a very subtle callousness about him only jimin could pick up on. for the most part he was just like very other mild mannered boy by day and party animal by night, but jimin still ducks when he sees him enter the library.

"fuck," he hisses under his breath, scooping up his laptop to stride behind a book shelf for good measure. because sometimes, contrary to popular belief, jimin wanted to be alone. he didn't want to make small talk or listen to someone tell him about how well they scored on their last paper or complain about their annoying girlfriend. sometimes jimin wanted to have no thoughts and listen to fleetwood mac as per his human rights. which is why he shoves into the first private study room he sees.

and not an empty one at that. there's a girl inside, sitting cross-legged in her chair at a desk with an array of dried up paint tubes and brushes surrounding open sketchbooks. you don't look annoyed or even that phased, just amused as you give him a once over before going back to painting. "on the run from solji?"

jimin blinks, back still pressed against the door. "huh?" he regards you properly. "i'm sorry, have we met before?"

"not really," you admit with a sheepish smile, which is when jimin suddenly realises that you're...attractive. "solji is in my stats class. you hooked up with her last week at some party and she told me about it."

"oh," jimin takes in your plethora of art supplies. "you don't look like a stem student."

there's a glimmer of something in your eyes, and though you hide it well jimin knows he's struck a nerve. "yeah, i get that a lot."

"it's not solji by the way," jimin clarifies. for some reason. "that i'm hiding from. just a bellend i don't have the energy for right now."

you smile. "it's fine. you don't owe me your life story."

"i do when i'm about to impose on your...study time," jimin peers through the window in the door, wincing when yugyeom enters the hallway. "what would it take for you to let me stay in here for a while?"

you pause for a second. "honestly? just be quiet and leave me alone. is that okay?"

jimin perks up, a weight leaving his chest. "perfect, actually."

[jungkook 11:42pm]: why does it say wings on it

[jungkook 11:42pm] where is it flying

[you: 11:43pm] ffs kook

[you: 11:44pm] im still on the toilet can u just hurry up

[you 11:44pm] grab some tampons too pls

[jungkook 11:46pm] fine what size pussy do u wear

[you 11:46pm] i hate u

[jungkook 11:53pm] ???? ? ? well? ????

[you 11:54pm] REGULAR

jungkook giggles at his phone, already having left the women's sanitary aisle to grab some chocolate. months later and teasing you was still bundles of fun. he knew for a fact that you were sat there with that angry pout on your face, nose crinkled. he had never bought anything like this before, but jungkook had enough brain cells to know that chocolate was another necessity for that time of the month. after grabbing a large hazelnut bar, he pauses beside the oreos before grabbing a packet of those too. just for good measure. he strides to the self checkout - because even he wasn't man enough for the cashier yet - nearly dropping his array of sanitary products and confectionary when somebody calls out his name from behind the queue.

"kook!" the voice is unmistakably yugyeom's, confirmed by the hand that clamps jungkook over the shoulder and swivels him round before he could think about hiding his socially compromising shopping items. it takes a second for yugyeom to notice, doing a double take at the pads atop his small tower of goods. he holds back a laugh, balancing a bottle of gin in one hand while he waves back at some friends to continue. they were clearly making their pit stop before a night out, probably pre's if they still start as late as jungkook remembers. with his hair styled and expensive cologne lingering, jungkook almost forgets he probably looks unrecognisable in his sweats and cotton-fresh hoodie. friday nights weren't for cuddling. still, yugyeom's smile is welcoming and familiar. "got the munchies? and maybe also a uterus?"

"shut up," jungkook grumbles, averting his eyes. he shifts to his other foot uncomfortably. "my friend just needed a favour, that's all."

"uh huh," yugyeom gives him a teasing look. "is this friend the reason why i barely saw you at jin's the other week?"

jungkook blinks back at him. "wait, you were at that party? i had no idea!" a boyish smile breaks over his face. "why didn't you call me? i haven't seen you since-"

"minseok-hyung's new years eve party," yugyeom throws his head back with a laugh. "remember how we ended up on a boat after the ball dropped and-"

"spent all of new years day detained by the coast guard!" jungkook finishes with a mischievous cackle of his own, nearly dropping the tampons in the process. "fuck, that was so much fun! we need to meet up again, i haven't been out with the guys in so long."

"well no wonder," he quips a brow at jungkook's shopping again. "word got out you're a family man but i didn't believe it. until now, that is."

jungkook's smile falls. "what do you mean?"

yugyeom looks at him for a second, confused by jungkook's surprise. yugyeom was never quite as diplomatic as namjoon or yoongi, to put it lightly. and definitely nowhere near as accomodating as jimin. which is why his next words make jungkook's back stiffen. "bro, look at yourself. you got dairy milk in one hand and tampax in the other. on a friday night. the next time i see you i wouldn't be shocked if you had a baby buggy and a mortgage." still, yugyeom throws him an apologetic look. like a mouse caught in a trap. "face it, kook. you're old news."

"what? that's not true," his brows furrow unhappily. "i don't know what you're talking about. it's not like she's my..."

he can't say the word, but it hangs between them like a dead weight.

"yeah, right," the condescending look on yugyeom's face was starting to agitate him. "you totally blanked us at jin's after she showed up. not even just jin's..." he thinks twice about holding his tongue, but as always, decides against it. "i don't know you, jungkook. whoever this new jungkook is. it's been months. you used to hit us up and be independent and spontaneous and wild and now you're just...someone's boyfriend.

"stop fucking saying that," jungkook snaps, all visible signs of friendliness gone.

"why?" a beat. "do you even use a wrap with her anymore?"

jungkook splutters, heat rushing to his ears and hands in a stinging combination of anger and embarrassment. "how is that any of your business? the fuck are you asking me something like that, as if you-"

"thought so," yugyeom looks away from him with a sigh. if anything, yugyeom knew never to overstay his welcome but that clearly backfired tonight. "whatever, jungkook," he looks over his shoulder at him. "guess you're the last one to find out you're officially married."

"you're ridiculous," jungkook scoffs. "all this over condoms? grow up, yugyeom."

"only couples do it raw," yugyeom turns away from him, alcohol in tow as he waves a hand over his shoulder to join his friends like jungkook was nothing but a lost cause. "you would remember that if you still had game."

jungkook stands there, dumbfounded while the group of boys exit the store noisily but he can't hear a thing. the siren that had been itching the back of his mind all this time was suddenly there at full force, right between his eyes. the glaring truth that yugyeom might be right makes his knees buckle. all those rules jungkook once had, all those measures he kept in place to protect his liberty, to prevent this very occurence - where were they? what happened to them? as the sweet and accommodating counterpart to jimin, why had you never complied? though, the blame wasn't on your hands alone. he got complacent, comfortable. lenient. and now without even realising he was here, a scene from a romcom in the middle of the night, with nothing to say for himself but fuck. the realisations wouldn't stop racing, one after another on the conveyer belt of his anxiety.

the photos on his phone; mostly you. time spent, usually with you. the portfolio for his latest photography module also had some resemblance to your interests. charcoal pencils, night drives, orchids. like the ones you always drew on any scrap of paper lying around. now that he thinks about it, he's seen nothing but your orchids for months. and not just that - you wore his clothes sometimes too. his bathroom had your toothbrush, contraceptive pills and coconut shampoo. his closest friends, his hyungs...not one of them was devoid of affection for you. he wasn't even confident that if the choice was presented, they would still pick him over you.

by the time jungkook finishes paying and practically sprints to his truck in a daze, he can hardly keep himself from shaking. he palms the wheel compulsively, he could feel the sweat in his sideburns, hoodie suddenly suffocating him. it smelled of you.

and then, like a final curtain call: was he just your latest fixer-upper project? some good girl wet dream to play out in the wake of your emotionally traumatic past? a slap in the face to seokjin, maybe, and nothing more? when you were done, when he was out of your system, when you knew his taste by heart and had nothing new left to try - would you stay? did you even know how to?

did he?

jungkook starts the engine. he drives to your door, drops your bag of snacks and pads on the porch, and texts you before leaving. he does not go inside.

"you sure you'll be okay with just the boys?"

you scoff at seulgi when she pins you with a worrying look, taking some of her clothes out of her bag to re-fold them just so you had something to do with your hands. jisoo had already left for the long weekend with her family, so there was no one there to fill up the empty space between your awakward reply. you didn't know how to tell the girls that jungkook hadn't contacted you in nearly a month. and even though he was a notable flight risk from the beginning, you couldn't help but feel like there was hostility there. every now and again he'd at least send a nude or have a quick phone call when he was drunk or high at three in the morning, but you hadn't heard a peep from him. you couldn't stand the idea of someone you cared about harbouring comtempt for you, but the fear of reaching out and somehow making the situation worse outweighed it tenfold.

you look up to see seulgi still staring at you with concern. "of course i'll be fine! they're boys, not piranhas."

"at least piranhas contribute our ecosystem. boys just cause problems for the hell of it," seulgi lays a hand on the crown of your head like a berating big sister, swivelling you to look at her in your fit of giggles. the urge to nestle you under blankets like a baby bird made her chest heave, and you could tell. "i'm serious. if jimin tries anything, call me immediately okay?"

"jimin?" you snort. "out of a room full of delinquents, my ex, and taehyung, you're worried about jimin of all people?"

seulgi wrinkles her nose. "god, when you say it like that its like i'm throwing you to the dogs." she pauses. "something's up with jimin. i don't know what it is, but he's...off."

you tilt your head innocently, remembering the brief interaction you had with hobi at seokjin's party. you had been so caught up in jungkook - or lack thereof - you hadn't thought to press him about it afterwards. in truth, jimin remained as...jimin as ever. if he was acting differently you certainly couldn't tell. "you think so?"

"mmm," she leans on the lip of the open suitcase thoughtfully. "but maybe with jungkook there, he'll behave himself."

you gulp, fiddling with his watch on your wrist anxiously. "maybe."

you nearly yelp when you feel a big hand swivel around your waist, bucking into the kitchen counter reflexively. jungkook always did this before rubbing his boner against your ass, but the light scent of citrus and short squeeze lets you know immediately that its taehyung. hoseok, jimin, namjoon and yoongi were still in the living room playing video games, giving taehyung the perfect opening to intercept you. namjoon and yoongi had insisted that you come over to their place after finding out you'd be alone for the weekend, and you had completely refused before taehyung's coaxing. and of course, jimin's persuasive nudging. even though you felt safe and relaxed here, it felt wrong to be in jungkook's friends' place without him. almost like a breaching of an unspoken boundary.

and clearly, taehyung picked up on your discomfort by the way he stared at you so softly. his back was to the sink, his sillhouette particularly long and lean this evening. "you need to lighten up, princess. you keep looking over your shoulder so much it's making me nervous!"

your visibly droop with a sigh. "i'm sorry tae. i've had a lot on my mind lately, and..."

he claps his hands on your shoulders, teeth peeking through his grin. "you're not doing anything illegal by being here without jungkook."

you wince at his name. "have you always been able to read my mind like this?"

"absolutely," taehyung's brown eyes look so rich up close. "you're allowed to have friends that are also his friends, because - and try to stick with me on this - relationships between people are allowed to be independant from the primary circles they met in. mind boggling concept, i know."

you wack him on the chest until he laughs. "stop making fun of my anxious thought processes! its called mental illness, sherlock! i can't help it!"

his nose scrunches cutely, enjoying your first fiery outburst of the day. "whatever. i call it not getting laid for a month and losing critical thinking abilities from it."

you gape at him indignantly while taehyung roars with laughter. "you're such a dickhead," you hiss through gritted teeth, yanking his hair and jabbing your fingers in his sides the way you would with jimin during a tickle fight. "whores have feelings too, taehyung! whores have feelings too!"

you both fall about with laughter, knocking over half the snacks on the counter in the process which only makes the pair of you laugh even more. it's such childish chaos trying to clean up the mess on the tiny kitchen floor that neither of you notice the front door open, or the gust of metaphorical and literal wind that follows. watching taehyung trying to salvage a bag of broken crisps is just so funny that the presence of an another voice in the living room goes unregistered, as do the footsteps leading up the hallway to the kitchen, so you have no time to brace yourself or properly pull yourself together with you see-

"...jungkook."

yours and taehyung's heads snap to the doorway. jungkook stands there with almost complete lack of emotion on his face to the pair of you kneeling in crumbs and napkins. there's a brief pause where the tension in your eye contact alone was so strong that it felt wrong to breathe. but it is shortlived. jungkook tiptoes over you like spilled milk, reaching for a glass of water. you and taehyung lock eyes while the tap runs in the awkward silence. "hey. you okay?"

"um," you're not sure whether to stand up, hug him, look at him, or even face him. "yeah! yeah, i'm fine."

he nods politely. "hyung?"

even taehyung looks visibly uncomfortable. "i'm good."

"cool. see you later," he says, downing the glass impressively fast before leaving the room just as fast as he entered it.

you and taehyung stare at each other again, not understanding why you both feel like kids caught eating cake before dinner. you could feel the sweat pricking at your back from the realisation. jungkook had no idea you'd be here, and given that interaction he'd probably want to leave now. there was always the inkling woven between his radio silence that he was done with you, but you never let yourself take it seriously out of logic. because how could months of passion and tenderness and honesty be undone so irrevocably like that? it didn't make sense. you hadn't changed. you were the same girl he hit on relentlessly and chased against all odds. so what was different now?

"____," taehyung calls your name gently, and it's only then you realise you're already up and trailing after jungkook into the living room. when you walk in he's already putting his shoes on to leave again, barely making eye contact with you while he chats absently to his hyungs so he can look busy. the four boys on the large sofa can only reply wearily, eyes darting between the pair of you like a firework was about to blow to soon. and it was.

you could feel it in your throat, under your breast bone, bubbling up your stomach. "wait, jungkook. um...h-how have you been? i haven't heard from you in-"

"i've been good," he keeps tying and re-tying his laces without looking up. "super busy. you know how it is."

his curtness makes you flinch. this same time last month jungkook used to kiss you senseless before he had both feet in the door. he'd ring the doorbell incessantly like a child and greet you with the biggest, toothiest grin you had ever seen. he'd make fun of your bed head and squeeze your cheeks until you'd snap at him. and now when he looked at you he hated every second of it. your mother had the same look. your eyes start to burn involuntarily. "yeah, i do. how is uni? your final project is due soon, right? what theme did you pick in the end?"

"the one i told you about," he stands up abruptly. "sorry, noona. something came up. i'll see you arou-"

"something came up?" you step closer to him. "something came up the second you saw my face? or did you really just trek all the way to your hyungs' place for a glass of water, jungkook?"

jungkook stiffens, but is determined not to lose face. and it's difficult to do under your big, accusatory eyes and jimin's death stare at his back. the whole room was waiting for his response, so he just shoves his hands in his pockets resolutely. "i needed to see yoongi hyung, but i can come another time."

you fold your arms. "well it's clearly important, and you're here now. so don't let me stop you."

"but you will stop me," jungkook snaps. "that's the problem."

"kook-ah," yoongi warns quietly, but he took one look at your face and knew the damage was done. jimin was already standing up, circling around the back of the sofa towards you. the red lights were all there; your watery eyes, your trembling hands. every breath you took looked difficult for you to complete and only jimin noticed.

"what are you talking about?" you squint. it takes you a second to understand; yoongi's guilty expression, jungkook's indifference. "oh, you're fucking kidding me." your resolve breaks for a second turning away only to glare back at jungkook with so much fire you can hardly stand it. "you're selling again? are you insane, jungkook?"

"see," jungkook's eyes are stony. "i knew you'd get this way."

"what other way am i supposed to get?" his lack of response only infuriates you more. it felt disrespectful. "jungkook, you're not a kid anymore. if you get caught with drugs the consequences are serious! forget the potential jail time, you could get kicked out of university, it would go on your record forever and-"

"stop talking to me like i'm a kid!"

"then stop acting like one!" you hate raising your voice, but it keeps climbing without your approval. "did you think about this for even five minutes? this isn't like just going to juvie like before and being done with it jungkook. your hyungs can't bail you out of everything."

"this is a lot of talk for someone who lapped up those fancy paints without a second thought," jungkook says darkly. his eyes aren't like you remember, his face solemn and near unrecognisable. "or did you think that getting that kind of money overnight is only something that's possible through daddy's credit card?"

dread blooms like a garden inside you. "that's...that's how you bought the paint set?"

"welcome to the real world," he quips. "as if selling overpriced weed to a bunch of pick-me-freshmans is considered a crime against humanity to anyone but you."

"you think that's why i'm yelling at you right now?" your voice was growing hoarse, desperate. "you think that's the problem i have with you being literal drug dealer, jungkook?"

he hates it. the sweltering silence, the judgmental eyes digging into his back, the slow realisation that the tears in your eyes were not at him but for him. jungkook's ears ring enough to make him sway on the spot if his feet weren't planted so firmly on the dingy carpet, this metaphorical ground. he couldn't shake the feeling that his lifestyle was only an issue now because of you, how he never felt a shred of guilt about any of this shit until he met you. and if there was anything that jungkook never responded well to, it was pity. and he could feel it from every person in the room, all people that that once cherished and coddled him until you came along. he swallows, throat dry from the way he couldn't look at you knowing what he was going to say next.

"you're embarrassing yourself, noona. you're not my girlfriend and you never were, so stop acting like it."

cotton. it's very faint, under the layers of conflicting cologne and beer and smoke, but jungkook still smelled of cotton while he spat acid. nobody could speak, even though jungkook never raised his voice let alone a hand to you, it still hit like a slap in the face. it sunk into the walls, your clothes, suddenly every hair on your body felt heavy with it. dirty. the shame came first, the humiliation next. and then the sorrow, the dread, and finally the defeat. you knew the stages well by now, and they were cycling through you like clockwork. how foolish you were, to make the same mistake again. nobody dared to move, everyone but jungkook staring at you in denial and horror. they couldn't believe their eyes when you nod steadily, bowing your head to the floor.

jimin is already slotting himself between you, his jaw tight. "that's enough, kook. just leave already."

"no," you stop him, unnervingly resigned. that single word cuts through all six men with ease. "he's right." you step around jimin, closing the space between you and jungkook. for a brief moment he wonders if you'll actually hit him, but somehow watching you unclasp his watch from your wrist and drop it on the coffee table in front of him is far worse. the sound seems to ring like church bells, definitive and umistakable. "you're right, i'm not your girlfriend. you win jungkook."

they all watch you leave in dismay, listen to the door closing softly behind you. within a second jimin sprints after you, calling your name, leaving everyone else dumbfounded. jungkook's stare could bore a hole into the abandoned watch on the table, still ticking away like nothing changed. like his eyes weren't burning, lightheaded at the realisation that he would never wear a watch again let alone the one he put on you.

to an outsider, you looked like you were coping well considering you just got dumped in front of all your friends. but jimin knew that face. your stony eyes, lips pulled thin as if to seal inside the collapse of a monument. you took the tea he offered, and then his arms, your face finding his chest with ease. muscle memory. his torso was a tad shorter than jungkook's, his heart closer to your mouth as if the steady thumps were asking for a kiss of acknowledgement. every time you close your eyes you could see jungkooks face, hard and unforgiving and nothing like the man you trusted all this time. but it wasn't a new expression; you parents looked at you similarly the last time you saw them. it was the look of someone who had no regrets cutting all ties. and now, jungkook was behind them in a lost list of people who chose to be strangers over loving you.

jimin sighs when you cry into his chest, brushing the back of your head gently. he had been ready for this for months, but he still hated to see you this way. again. it made his bones itch, his skin crawl uncomfortably every time you weeped. the only time he considered violence was when you were crying. but he knew what to do, laying down across the sofa so you could curl up into a ball next him, head on his bicep and face smushed into the crook of his shoulder. you used to cry like this for hours and hours, his arm familiar with the prickle of pins and needles. but it was the only place you felt safe. tucked into jimin's side is where you would always belong, and that truth was more glaringly obvious than ever now.

"lets get something to eat," he offers eventually, hand craddling the crown of your head like a child. jimin's other hand on your hip is warm and heavy when he pats you soothingly. in your episodes, you responded well to touch. "what about thai food?"

"not hungry," you grumble against him.

"we could make something together?" he peers down at your lack of response. "come on, babe. you gotta eat something. you didn't even have breakfast-"

"why am i so stupid?" you whisper, a fresh bout of tears welling up.

jimin rubs your thigh. "it's not your fault."

"yes it is. jungkook gave me plenty of red flags, and i ignored all of them-"

"oh, i meant you being stupid."

you scoff. "cheers."

"what?" jimin cocks a brow when you lift your head to look up at him. he wets his lips and you follow the swipe of his tongue thoughtlessly, distracted enough by his touch and proximity that you take a second to digest his words. "it's not like any of this exactly came as a surprise. you ignored me, remember? wanted to flex your big girl pants."

you pull away from him and sit up, forcibly shutting out the daze that jimin routinely puts you under. "what's wrong with you? can't you be polite and wait for a couple hours before laying into me like a normal person? jesus, jimin."

"so let me get this straight," jimin sits up, watching your back as you sit away from him. "you're mad because i'm not telling you what you want to hear?"

"no," you say, head shaking. "i'm not mad. i'm upset because i came here to be comforted by my friend and you're just making me feel worse."

"what do you want me to say, ____? that i had high hopes from the start?" jimin pushes his hair back, brows now at a sharp incline from frustration. "i told you starting something with jungkook was trouble but you didn't listen. why should i feed your victim complex when all i've done is try to help you?"

"victim complex?" you repeat, standing up slowly. the sudden steadiness of your voice causes jimin to panic.

"not like that. don't take it like that, it's just," he's suddenly before you, his warm hands palming up your arms warmly. "i didn't wanna see you get like this and it happened anyway, is all i'm saying." he sighs when your scowl doesn't let up. "if hobi hyung hadn't have given up so easy, then maybe…maybe this would never have happened. maybe if i had been harsher with him then you would have-"

"what are you talking about?" you ask quietly, searching jimin's face. "give up so easy? what's that supposed to mean?"

he looks away, hands slipping off you. "it's nothing."

"jimin."

he struggles to look at you, tongue in cheek. his lips purse for a moment, pink like roses. he's wearing that navy jumper you like. "look, it's not a big deal. he wasn't supposed to fuck you or anything, just take you out for a while. get your mind off kookie, show you a nice time."

your blood runs cold. "what?"

jimin's expression softens. "it's not as bad as it sounds-"

"really?" your voice is sharp, sharper than he's ever heard it. you recoil as if you had been struck for the second time today. "because it sounds like you asked some guy to keep me occupied like i'm a fucking dog. all because you can't stand the idea of me being within a meter of jungkook-"

he steps in, but you step back. "you know that's not true, _."

"don't i?" you scoff, covering your face in disbelief. "jimin, you've been hellbent against me even looking at the guy since day fucking one."

"because i didn't want you to get hurt!" jimin counters, eyes downcast. "i know, okay? i know how much of a dick it makes me sound, but its not like it hurt you when you had no idea! hoseok broke it off before you even knew about it so why-"

"because it's worse," you turn away from him. "you tried to control me. choose what's best for me because you think you know better than i do. sound familiar?"

his jaw sets, and it's like you can hear the twine snap in his head, the percussion of his heartbeat above yours even though he doesn't close the space between you. jimin stares at you for a long minute before drawing in a thin breath. "fine," he steps in, and you can't look away. "you want me to say it? fine. i'll say it."

suddenly the air is lace thin around you as you stare at him, waiting. jimin looks off somewhere else, somewhere you can't reach. "don't tell me you haven't thought about it, because i know you have. if i have you must have too. and lately its all i can think about - being with you, holding you, being the one who gets to touch you. and yeah, maybe it took having to see you with jungkook for me to realise how much i want all that, i put my hands up. but you have no idea what's it like to watch the person you love most get toyed around with by a time bomb like that. i've seen jungkook go through girls like underwear and i love him, god i love him, but even the idea of you being one of those wasted girls sitting outside a party crying over his sorry ass makes my fucking ears ring."

"j-jimin…" you whisper, but you have nothing to say. your hands shake.

"you deserve more than that, ____. you deserve more than waiting around for booty calls or living up to what the next guy wants. from jungkook, hoseok, anyone. you deserve someone's devotion and yeah, maybe all this time i've been too much of a pussy to give it. maybe all this time i was tiptoeing around my feelings for you because i knew if i admitted to myself that i loved you - if i admitted i was just like every other guy - i'd actually set the bar for something other than disappointment. id actually have to step up, and i didn't know if i could do it. i still don't. but if it has to be someone…it should be me."

suddenly he's holding your hands, calming the tremble that rattles them. his words bunch up together in your ears, the meaning lost amidst your awe. "jimin….jimin what are you saying? where is all this coming from, i don't...i don't understand wh-"

"i'm saying," he cups your face. "choose me." he pulls you in. so, so close. "choose me, not jungkook. not anyone else. me."

and there's a part of you that has already caved. that's already kissing him, melting into his arms like you've wanted to for so, so long. you're falling back onto the couch with him in a fit of giggles, curling back into his chest to hide your watery eyes, asking him why the fuck he took so long. you chat together between teasing kisses, pour your hearts out, maybe cry a little. later you would make tea and order pad thai and watch the office all night and fall asleep together in the living room well past dawn and then-

you close your eyes. "i can't."

"you can," jimin says, so passionately you shudder. his brown eyes are teaming with too much determination and ardour for his own good, and you both know it. its difficult to grapple with how huge a risk he's taking, because jimin never takes risks. it made the whole situation seem dire. "you know you can, ____. it's us. there's no one like us."

you don't know how you're not crying yet. you only have jimin to hold onto, hands balled in his shirt without knowing if you're about to push him away or pull him in forever. "maybe back then. maybe if you'd have said all this before," you feel empty, the beat of your pulse suddenly strong in your fingertips. "but it doesn't matter anymore."

he shakes his head in denial, his determination palpable. "of course it does-"

"i'm in love with him," you say. to jimin. to yourself. to the world, finally. "i'm in love with jungkook." holding jimin's stare isn't as difficult as you thought it'd be. "you know if you'd have done all this a few months ago…if you'd have just...i was always yours without question, jimin. and you knew it." it's his turn to bristle under the strain of your voice. "jungkook isn't perfect. i'll be the first one to admit that. he's made me cry, he fucks up, he makes mistakes. but he's never lied to me. he never made decisions for me. he never passed judgement on what i should or shouldn't do with my life. something that i never thought i wouldn't able to say about you, too."

there's a brief moment where everything stops. neither of you can believe what you just said. jimin watches you, frozen in his place as you take your bag, eyes glittering with tears when he calls for you. suddenly he's the time bomb he feared becoming, the panic in his eyes lighting them up like fire crackers. for the first time in his life, he stumbles over his words, and then his feet when you reach for the door, all composure lost. he was unravelling like a tapestry in front of you, never to be repaired, and he could feel it. "____. ____, please," jimin chokes, his cheeks blotchy. "i wanted to protect you, i was just trying to help. don't go. please don't go. i was trying to help you."

"no. you were trying to have me." you say, closing the door behind you.

you have no idea what time it is when you hear the bell ring incessantly.

it had been hours since you'd returned home from jimin's, but there was no way for you to keep track when your only priority was just keeping yourself afloat. you turned your phone off, drew the curtains, and resolved to alternate between sitting in seulgi and jisoo's rooms until they came back. you didn't know what else to do. when you weren't crying you were hyperventilating, and when that stopped the absence of emotion was so powerful you could barely keep your eyes open. you were exhausted but could not sleep. starving but could not eat. it was a miracle you even made it down the stairs, using what little strength you had to yank it open without even thinking about who could be on the other side in the middle of the fucking night. but at this point, you would gladly take a serial killer over jimin or jungkook.

"taehyung," you breathe when you take in his face, relieved. you must look like absolute shit because he scans your face and winces.

"jimin told me," he says, the apology in his voice and expression was almost painful to register. "he told me everything. ____, i'm so sorry. i should have told you about the hoseok thing, i just thought it would be worse coming from me, and then i tried to force jimin into confessing but then he didn't because he's jimin, and now-"

"you're only allowed to come inside if you stop apologising," you say weakly, voice haggered from the hours of crying.

taehyung's pouty expression almost makes you smile with how cute he looks, gingerly stepping over the threshhold. "i really am sorry though."

"for what," you say monotonously, closing the door behind him while he takes off his shoes. "my inexplicably terrible taste in men? my uncanny ability to get manipulated by literally anyone who shows me a scrap of affection? or my absolutey shredded-to-shit attachment style thats barely intact let alone functioning healthily? after hoppping between the first two for a few hours i'd personally go for the latter. but whatever."

"please shut up," taehyung sighs, bringing you into his arms before you could have a second thought about it. "you need to amp up the misandry in this context. a lot of this had nothing to do with you and everything to do jimin and jungkook."

you're too tired to open your eyes, snuggling into the softness of taehyung's chest. you’re too exhausted to argue. "where did you learn the word misandry? have you been reading?"

"yeah," you can hear his big, pleased grin. "i know you and the girls have been calling me a himbo behind my back."

"affectionately," you add, peering up at him. he wipes the wetness off your cheeks, moving upstairs to your room with your hand in his. he fetches you a glass of water before putting you into bed like he's paid to do it. taehyung was the cuddliest person you had ever met, but you had rarely seen him dote on anyone. "girls love himbos. it's a compliment."

"not all girls," he mutters when he returns from the bathroom with a glass of water. "drink this, would you? you look so dry it's making me itchy."

you do as he says with a roll of your eyes. "what do you mean?" you finish your water with a big gulp. "jisoo loves dumb guys, what are you talking about?"

taehyung looks away from you, bottom lip rolling up under his teeth so fast you barely catch it. he pulls up your desk chair next to your bed, thinking long and hard before meeting your eyes again. "i don't mean jisoo."

you don't understand at first, but after staring at his face for a long minute your stomach drops. "don't. don't you fucking dare," another beat of silence. you rip the covers off you to scamble to your knees, grab your pillow and hurl it at taehyung's head. "taehyung, please don't tell me that the one remaining, healthy relationship i have with a man has also been shot to shit because i swear to god i'm gonna-"

"it's not a big deal," he says firmly, and he really does mean it. taehyung catches your wrists when you lunge at him, effectively ending your outburst before it can begin. he keeps hold of them while he stares into your eyes, watching the way they fill up with a fresh bout of tears. "i've had a crush on you for a while, so what? it's not anyone's business but mine so don't worry about it."

you try not to scream at him. "how long?"

"...since the start." he shrugs. "it's not like i could have done anything anyway. with jimin around. he’d never have it."

"but...! but..." you splutter, the highlight reel of your friendship suddenly marred before your eyes. "but you let me talk to you about boys! you gave me advice with hobi and jimin and jungkook and...! you encouraged jimin to confess to me. and the whole thing with jisoo?"

he wets his lips guiltily. "jisoo is a nice girl. i like her, but...not like you. i've always liked you."

you shake your head in horror, your face crumpling. bile rose in your throat. "so all of that...playing with my friend like that. was just to get to me?"

"listen to me," taehyung says firmly, gripping your wrists to make you look at him again. he's so close you can feel the warmth of his breath on yours, and you never realised how large taehyung's torso was compared to yours before. he could have smothered you, but he didn't. in all senses. "the way jimin and jungkook handled their feelings is on them, just like how this is on me. it doesn't matter if i'm fucking you or not, you're my friend and i'll always want people to do right by you. and that includes me."

there was nothing else to say, so taehyung wordlessly wipes your face again and fetches you more water before retreating to sleep on the couch downstairs. all the while you sat there in your bed, confused and bewildered and thoughtful. the same bed jungkook fucked you on. the same bed jimin held you in. out of all the men in your life, taehyung was the only one who treated his feelings for you with reverence. there wasn't one interaction you could think of where he made his feelings clear, where he even hinted towards wanting something more. if he hadn't have said anything tonight, in the wake of one of the most emotionally tumultuous days of your life, you would still be in the dark about it all. and that was the scariest part. you didn't know anyone else who hadn't let their feelings for you effect how they treated you. so ultimately, it was possible.

and jimin and jungkook chose not to do that. but taehyung did.

taehyung did.

when you finally pad downstairs after hours of ruminating, jisoo's bedroom door is wide open. and that's who you should be thinking about now - your friend and sister jisoo - as the sky begins to lighten with the signs of morning. you hadn't slept for over twenty four hours, you were hungry and thirsty, delirious from the whirlwind of losing the two most important men in your life in one day. but still, you are drawn to taehyung. taehyung, who never asked anything of you. taehyung, who was as silent as he was selfless this whole time. taehyung who routinely put what he wanted aside in favour of what was best for you. taehyung, who protected you without needing credit or recognition for it. taehyung, taehyung, taehyung, taehyung, taehyung-

"taehyung," you whisper scraping your nails through his hair. his eyes fluttered open, twisting his head to face you as you hovered above him. he could barely see you in the darkness. "taehyung, wake up."

"what is it?" he croaks, sitting up with half-lidded eyes and a yawn. he doesn't know how to read the expression on your face. he swings his legs off the sofa in a sitting position, wearing nothing but his boxers and tee, visibly alarmed. "what happened? are you okay?"

you take his face in your hands and kiss him.

taehyung stiffens against you, breath drawn thin. you pull away to gauge his expression, desperately searching his eyes in the darkness. for discomfort, disapproval, anything negative at all. the absolute ardour you find instead could knock you down if taehyung didn't reach for your neck, kissing you again. you whine at the feel of his tongue, having no idea where such sudden and intense arousal was coming from. when you pull away with shaky limbs, you climb onto his thick thighs so he can feel your wetness through his boxers. taehyung grunts at the sensation, and again when you kiss him passionately and without abandon. the sweet girl every guy he knew was agonising over, suddenly in his lap. he's barely had his tongue down your throat for ten minutes and you're already rocking into him, his erection betraying his resolve.

it's better than he dreamed.

"taehyung," you gasp, palming him now. he groans when he pulls away to look at your mouth, glistening with his saliva when you take his hand and guide it down to your arousal. "please."

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook au #bts x reader #bts au #jungkook scenario #bts scenario #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin au #bts fic #jungkook fic #jimin fic #jungkook college au #jimin college au #bts college au #myfic

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admiringlove · 4 years

Text

IX: aparecium; an incantation to always remember.

— you finally read all the other pages of his diary.

+pairing: miya atsumu x reader.

+genre: crossover(hq x hp); fluff; angst; frenemies to lovers.

+word count: 2.9k.

+warnings: FLUFF!! pls, if i don’t put fluff, some of my moots would cry(*cough* ray).

+usual customers(taglist): @babyworld @renee1414 @anotherhydrangea @seita @tobiosnoelle @weebslxt @tsukkiwaifu16 @loveusandoor @kozumebri @sarawrz @crackheadsara @kyuudere @cultsax @supernovaa-a @akaashikeijisan @b3llo-there @sugasloverr @kagebunshiin @tetsurolls @velvetfireworks @kritiiiii @1wai@seijohlogy @sweetrosemilktea @bellesowl @ems1des @akaashi-todorki @sakuric @irishhbamb @sweetsamus @cherriechurros @mxshimoo @bluebirdandcomrades @zukuroo @denki-core @sarahvvictoria @littlevoxine

+author’s notes: this is the last chapter(im def not sad) BUT i will be writing bonus parts!!

+navigation: previous, masterlist,.

You stand in front of your apartment, sighing as you close your eyes, making your way inside your bedroom and begin to pick up the cardboard boxes with the help of your wand, moving them outside into the living room for someone(who is quite late, yet again) to take to your new home.

You tie your hair up, fixing your overcoat a little as you sigh, making your way to the smallest box, placed in the corner of the room. Just by looking at the stamp on top of it, you smile.

The memories of your time at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

You carefully sit on your knees, your plaid skirt riding up just a smidge, as you open the carton in front of you.

To say that it was filled up completely was an understatement because right now, a few books and photographs fell out onto your lap, making you chuckle. You picked up the photographs, settling with your back against the wall and your legs stretching out, as you looked through them one by one.

The first one—one of your graduation ceremony, standing next to Shimizu Kiyoko(the current owner of the most popular Quidditch shop in London) who was beaming vividly at the camera with you, holding up your wands as a gesture that you had finally done it. Something that seemed almost insurmountable when you first started school, and now? You all were content, happy with your lives.

The second photograph was one from the third year, your first time in Hogsmeade. You were in The Three Broomsticks, and a mustache of the froth from the butterbeer had formed atop your lips. Behind you, a certain fox pointed and laughed his guts out.

The next picture was from the Shrieking Shack—where all of your friends had ditched the second last day of school and spent the whole day drinking and reminiscing the past seven years of nostalgic happiness. A boy held your hand with the fondest look in his carob orbs, and you returned it.

You gingerly took the three photos, storing them in the photo album that had also fallen out of the box in the process of you opening it. Smiling, you took out some more mementos.

Your broomstick, the Nimbus 2001, sat at the bottom, but you excitedly removed it and placed it on the ground, saying, "Up!"

It almost made it to your hand but fell down upon grazing your fingertips. You pouted, blaming the number of years it had passed since you had played Quidditch. Peering into the box as you placed the broomstick aside, you found something even funnier.

Cheap, piss colored hair-dye that was almost ten-years-old.

You chuckled, looking at it playfully as you opened the top of the bottle. The disgusting odor that came from it made you grunt as you immediately placed the cap back on top, never desiring to touch that thing ever again. And once more, you placed the item in your hand to the side, looking into the box to find more things that reminded you of your happiest years.

You couldn't believe your eyes at what sat at the bottom of the carton.

An empty notebook with a soft leather cover, with a grey quill by its side, sitting there and ridiculing you.

You blinked twice, making sure what you were seeing was real. Hell, you even rubbed your eyes until you could see mindless patterns in the dark. You opened your eyes, the patterns making themselves sort of visible in plain sight, disappearing after a few milliseconds when you grabbed the brown book in front of you and whispered with your wand in hand, "Aparecium."

September 2, 20**.

I don’t know what I’m doing at this point. It’s been 3 years since I started loving her. When I saw her walk into the train today, umm, yesterday cause it’s past 2 AM now… I felt so happy?? I mean, I know I tease her and all, she’s quite amazing. She’s got the brains for it all and insults me back even when I say something stupid. I really dunno. 3 years and I’ve made 0 progress. I seriously need to re-think my decision about my love for this girl 'cause 'Samu says there’s no chance she loves me back. Dunno if I’ll be able to stop my feelings, though. I’ve liked her since my second year. Damn me, for being such a lovesick puppy. And to think I colored my hair for her too. [Y/N] called it piss-colored. Out of all things, why the fuck would ya compare somebody’s hair to piss? That’s utterly disgusting. I wonder where [L/N] gets these dumb ideas. Damn her, that slug. Anyways, I have class in a couple hours. G'night.

'Tsumu.

You immediately let out a hearty laugh, flipping to the next page when you remembered a certain encounter with the boy who wrote the diary. The day he told you he loved you, by the infamous Black Lake, he spoke of this particular page. He said that he addressed the nightly trips around Hogwarts, about how much he longs to be yours, about his happiness when he sees you, and your snarky comments that are just as, if not more, witty than his.

September 4, 20**

Today was the third day of school. Also my first trip around Hogwarts with [Y/N] under my invisibility cloak. We snuck into the kitchens and got ourselves steak pies and treacle tarts, and then went to the Astronomy Tower where we ate them while laughing about nothing in particular. I love these little trips. They make me all warm and fuzzy inside. Dunno how to put it into words, but I really like spending time with her alone. It makes me really really really happy. I wish that someday, maybe when I'm all grown up and play for a known Quidditch Team and she's a DADA professor, we are still like this. Going around to aimless places, eating food, and laughing about the old times(or anything really, I just want to be with her even when I'm older). And just like always, she doesn't fail to throw dumb comebacks at me. I can't help but chuckle at them, because sometimes they really are offensive. Well, looks like it's time to hit the hay now, so g'night.

'Tsumu.

You gasp as the page comes to an end, a hand on your mouth. He wasn't wrong when he said he wrote about you. You smile as a tear runs down your cheek as you flip to a random page this time, and you realize that it's written in his sixth year of Hogwarts.

December 23, 20**

I stayed back for Christmas break this year and my dorm is all empty. So is hers, because she says she didn't want to go back home at all until the summer. I feel bad for her gran, that woman must feel lonely.

You giggled at the line, grinning because you remember your grandma sending you a Howler, which yelled at you in the empty dorm-room for not coming home for the holidays. She said she missed you, and that your grandfather's health was deteriorating. She had also said that she knew why you didn't come back, and that it was okay, because she understood that you couldn't see another loved one go. The Howler ended on a sorrowful note, but everything eased back into its place because you remember the writer of the diary in your hands being there to comfort you when a dreaded letter came in after the holidays. You continued reading where you left off, wiping away the new wave of tears that had emerged from the memories.

Yesterday, me and [Y/N] went around the castle under the invisibility cloak I gave her. It was fun because I always get to see this little smile on her face that only shows up during these trips. We also went to the forbidden section of the library just because we wanted to look at a few spells that are probably illegal. I did accidentally kill a rat practicing the second unforgivable curse, and [Y/N] helped me hide all the evidence by feeding the dead rat to the Hippogriff she had found in the Forbidden Forest. I swear, if someone saw the way I did the spell and couldn't stop until [Y/N] threw Expelliarmus at me, they would throw me in the deepest pin in Azkaban and I'd probably never be able to see [Y/N] again. Anyway, I have to go back out for dinner now. G'night.

'Tsumu.

You, again, laughed at the man's childishness. You recollect distinctly how scared he was, that he had almost pissed his pants in the Courtyard that night. You had assured him that nothing would go wrong and that your lips were completely sealed, because he was your friend of course, so you had quickly formulated a plan to help him. And yet again, you flip to a new page, one from the fifth year this time.

July 15, 20**

I hate this part every year. Ever since my third year, it sickens me to come back home for summer. I can't see her because she lives in Lambeth while I'm in Westminster with my posh family. It makes me a little angry sometimes that my family is well-known in the wizarding world because this means my summers are filled with whatever my parents want me to do. The train ride back home was definitely not quiet. It was so chaotic(mostly because of the constant bickering between me and [Y/N]) and Kita-san yelled at us at the end. That was the first time I've ever seen him get angry, so he was either really fed up or we were being too dumb. Anyway, I'm gonna miss Hogwarts a lot for the next month or so, because after that I get to see her again. Honestly? Can't wait for the sixth year. I hope she grows taller, because right now, she's quite the midget. I'll write her a letter or two, but I probably won't send all of them. G'night for now.

'Tsumu.

You continue reading it all. Page by page, parchment by parchment, word by word, letter by letter until you finally get to the last page. The one he wrote on the graduation day, where he says that he wants to marry you someday. But you don't get to read it just yet, because he walks into the room with his booming voice and boyish grin.

"[Y/N]! Sorry I'm late, sweetheart! I apparated back home as fast as I could 'cause Coach saw me slack off a lil-"

"So ya actually read it all, huh?" he smirks, walking up to you and crouching down next to you, "Ah, the last page, have ya read it yet?"

"Not the last one," you smile, "—if only I'd read these sooner, we wouldn't have gone through all that mindless drama in seventh year, right?"

"Eh, 'twas kinda worth it in the end," he shrugs, sitting down next to you and placing his thumb on your chin, "Love, you've been crying?"

You shook your head lightly, letting out a small chuckle which to him sounded like the sweetest melody on the face on the planet, "Tears of joy, 'Tsumu. You were a cute teenager in love."

He smiles with his teeth on display, his fading blonde hair falling on his face with perfection as he whispers, "Only for you, darling."

"I'm glad," you mutter, closing in and placing a ghost of a kiss on his lips when you realize, "Wait, shit! We have to take all of this to the House! I'm supposed to leave for Hogwarts tonight!"

"Kiss me first, then we'll talk."

"'Tsumu, you really didn't have to come all the way to Hogwarts to drop me off," you giggle, as the yellow-haired man intertwines his fingers with yours quietly, giggling along with you as he says, "Hey, now yer students get to see yer hot boyfriend that you've been with for the past eight years."

"My stupid boyfriend that did a lot of illegal things in school. You're not exactly a good influence, you know," you mumble, earning a little offended open-mouth Atsumu walking alongside you to your quarters. He continues faking the vexed expression, a hand on his heart as he says, "How could ya wound me like this, baby?"

"I love you though, so it's justified," you say, opening the door and placing your trunk by the bed. He closes the door, leaning on it with his arms crossed over his chest as you set up your things in the room. When you turned around, you saw Atsumu looking at you with the most enamored look in his clove-infused eyes. You sighed, your shoulders immediately relaxing when your orbs land on him by the door. You step towards him, your beige trench coat trailing behind as you wrap your arms around his very muscular figure(now that he's a part of Nottingham Jackals as a Beater).

"You're going to leave, aren't you?" you mumble against his chest softly, as he chuckles out, "Yer lucky ya get to stay in Hogwarts when I'm gone. Everything's gonna remind ya of me."

Before you open your mouth to retort, your boyfriend says, "Don't worry, slug. I'll send ya letters everyday. And I'll come to meet ya twice a month. Maybe you can even let me meet yer students."

"'Tsumu, no-"

"Imagine! Children and teenagers, all of 'em love me to death. They'll love yer class, even more, when you make me meet 'em!" he exclaims, his eyes filled with curiosity, "Also, also! What about the third years? I wanna be there when the boggart lesson goes on-"

"'Tsumu, no. The school won't allow it. Although, my students do come and ask about you a lot because they like your Quidditch playing skills. They're not idiots like me, they won't fall in love with your stupid personality," you chuckle, pulling away from the hug, but still holding his arms with yours. He pouts, pulling you into a soft kiss, but immediately pulling away and winking at you, "I'm gonna see ya in a few weeks. Maybe I'll take ya on a date to Hogsmeade again, we can sneak into the Shrieking Shack again under that invisibility cloak."

"'Tsumu, I'm a teacher, not a student!" you laugh, but he simply says, "If anything, that gives us an excuse!"

Miya Atsumu never expected you to be agitatedly running around in your green-room, trying to find things for your hair and make-up. He chuckles lightly because all the other people in the room can do is shake their heads and sigh at your frantic state. Your maid-of-honor, Kiyoko, tried to calm you down about half an hour ago, but it was to no avail.

Atsumu sent Kiyoko a knowing glance, to which she and all the other bridesmaids stepped outside for just a minute.

"[Y/N]," he says, his voice low but still soothing. You stop in your tracks, turning around and gasping as you looked at him—clad in sweatpants and a white shirt—and widened your eyes.

"Dummy, you aren't supposed to see me just yet! Go away and wait at the altar!" you yell, walking over to him and attempting to shove him outside the room.

Emphasis on the word, 'attempting'.

"You look exactly like what you are right now, a slug. So listen to me, love. I need to give ya something before you start stressin' out all over again," Atsumu murmurs, placing his hands on your shoulders tenderly as he pulls out a book with a leather cover and hands it to you.

You sigh, picking it up as you sit down by the vanity. Atsumu looms behind you, crouching down to whisper next to your ears, "Love, open the last page, will ya?"

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, turning your head to look at him with exasperation. He places a peck to your cheek, humming indulgently as an indicator for you to continue as he instructed. You sigh again, shoulders drooping low as you turn over the book and open it, and muttering, "Aparecium."

July 2, 20**.

I want to marry [L/N] [Y/N] someday.

Miya Atsumu.

From the last day of the seventh year, and Atsumu continues to explain to you that during the train ride back home when all of you were sleeping, was when he wrote the last entry of his diary, and never opened it again. Because he knew, that he meant every word scribbled on every page.

You sat there, listening to the man with the messy faded blonde hair, losing yourself in his perfect brown eyes all over again. You felt as if you were diving deep into an ocean of pure chocolate, the sweetness and the slight bitterness getting the best of you as you drown—but voluntarily, because drowning was your intention.

"I love you, Atsumu," you say out of nowhere, cutting him off. He stops abruptly, his eyes growing wide and his mouth forming into a pout. His lips form into the brightest smile ever, as if the rays of a thousand suns meeting at one point. His boyish grin melts your heart, as he presses his lips to your forehead and says, "I love you more, darling. Now, take a breather, will ya?"

"Oh, and before I go. Don't disappoint me today, slug. I've been waiting to do this for the past eleven years."

i’m not crying. yes.

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crylovereblog · 4 years

Text

Lucky.

pairing: Casey Novak x reader

warnings: kissing and light touching but nothing too sexual or obscene

genre: fluff

summary: intimate moments with Casey.

A/N: just a little disclaimer: I am not a writer! This is the first piece I have ever written and felt happy to share and also my first attempt at fanfic! Any feedback is greatly appreciated, whether positive or constructive! Also I do not own Casey Novak or anything affiliated with Law and Order: SVU but this work is purely my own so please don’t copy it or upload elsewhere!

This also completes the cuddling square for @thatesqcrush ‘s love bingo.

There is not nearly enough appreciation for this little gem so I thought I would contribute. This is definitely not a self projection.... anyways, enjoy!

You collapsed back against the bed, your breaths coming out in short, wispy intervals. Crisp white sheets cocooned you, your body glowing in a light sheen of sweat as you lay back, heart hammering against your chest as you attempted to catch your breath. You glanced to your right to see Casey as equally breathless as you. She reached out to you and slowly traced a finger down your nose and tapped the tip. You broke out into a grin and the both of you shared a moment of laughter. You gave her a soft smile as you scooted over to her. She smiled back. You sat up on one side, resting you elbow on the plush sheets, and leaned over her. She looked so beautiful, her hair fanned around her head, making her look ethereal. The striking green hue of her eyes captivated you. The stunning flecks of caramel and gold that could only be seen upon closer inspection were warm and rich. She had captured you, body, soul, and mind.

Gazing down at her, your left hand tenderly cupped her jaw as your thumb caressed her cheek. She looked into your eyes and leaned into your touch. It was the moments like these that defined your relationship with Casey- the intimate moments that the two of you shared together were simply that, your moments. Moments that were kept and remembered in stolen glances, post it notes in lunchboxes, memorised tea and coffee orders, early mornings and late nights.

Your hair fell over your shoulder, encompassing your face, Casey lifted a hand to gingerly tuck it behind your ear. You heart swelled at the intimate gesture and you swore you felt butterflies coursing through your entire being with her delicate touch. Your eyes scanned her face, admiring every feature. Your fingers delicately began to make their own path; beginning by moving her hair away from her face, tenderly brushing against her cheek, tracing down from her brow bone, to her lips where they stopped their path. Casey’s fingers reached up and curled against your wrist as she held you against her lips. You sharply inhaled as her eyes met yours as she placed a small soft chaste kiss against them. Your eyes fluttered shut at the tenderness of the moment as you felt a heat course through you. Your head tilted down once more, your hair hiding your face as your face felt alight as shyness capture you once again.

Casey’s voice broke through the quietness, “Don’t hide from me baby.” She removed her hand from your wrist and brushed your hair away from your face, “There,” she whispered.

You pulled your lip into your mouth and bit down, still shy after all this time, “I really love you y’know,” you muttered.

“I know.”

You frowned, with your brows furrowed, the most adorable pout present. It made Casey’s heart flutter in admiration as she gazed at you, a smile breaking out on her face. Her eyes danced across your face, a light behind them, as she took in your pout that would look absolutely ridiculous on anyone else, yet she found it to be the most endearing thing she’d ever seen. “Aren’t you going to say it back?” you huffed.

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” your face remained stern and serious whilst she looked entirely amused.

‘You heard me,” she smirked at your expression.

“But we always say I love you,” you proclaimed.

Casey laughed and rolled her eyes at you and then glanced back, meeting your expectant gaze, “Well… I’m waiting.”

Her smile got impossibly brighter and bigger as she moved towards you so that you were both sat upright now, the soft sheets draped over your bodies. Your eyes fluttered shut as she delicately pressed her lips against your left cheek “I..” she mumbled against your skin and then moved to your nose, “love” then to your right cheek, “you.” A smile broke out across your face- you tried to hide it as heat agonisingly crawled up your neck. She then moved towards your lips and finally pressed them against your own, “very much” her voice was muffled as she said it, but you didn’t care. You both pulled away smiling and giggling. Your eyes flitted back down to her lips as you pulled her toward you.

Time felt like it stopped each time her lips met yours. Each time you felt the greatest rush and so much love. Your mind clouded over, and your only thought was Casey, her lips so soft yet firm against your own- she completely invaded your mind. The scent of her perfume enamoured your senses; jasmine, nutmeg, cedar and something that was so uniquely Casey you couldn’t decipher. She kissed you the way you and every girl wanted to be kissed- needed to be kissed- like no boy had ever kissed you before. It wasn’t like trying to win a battle, or rushed, it was soft and warm, slow and tender. It was pure love. Your lips parted slowly to allow her tongue to enter. You gasped as you felt her deepen the kiss, rolling you both over so that she was on top. Your breaths mingled as you became impossibly closer. Her fingers carded through your hair, eliciting the most delectable moans from you as her other hand explored your body. One hand found solace on her waist and the other cupped her cheek pulling her deeper to you.

***

Sunlight peaked through the thin billowing curtains of your bedroom; the light shone onto your face, disturbing you from your slumber. You scrunched your face in disdain and tugged the covers over your face, trying to fall asleep again. After another weak attempt, you let out a sigh and yawned.

You glanced at the clock on the nightstand 7:32AM.

You attempted to get up, but the arm draped over your waist had other intentions. Casey was pressed up against you, your legs tangled in the sheets. She let out a groan and a soft mumble at your movements, “Will ya stop wriggling.”

“C’mon Case, let me up.”

She mumbled something incoherently that sounded something like ‘five more minutes’ and tried to scoot closer to you. She placed a kiss to your bare shoulder before getting comfy and drifting back to sleep.

Mornings where you woke up with Casey still beside you were rare, and you intended to take advantage of it. As you laid back down and glanced around the room so as not to disturb your Sleeping Beauty too much, your eyes caught the memories that decorated the room. Pictures and memorabilia from your first Christmas together, that one time you went to Mexico and Casey insisted that she didn’t need sun cream, only to have the World’s Worst Sunburn. Pictures at baseball games, work gala’s where you both spent way too much time in the bathroom to be considered acceptable, and from friend’s weddings to the small moments captured from dates. One of your favourite pictures sat on your nightstand. It was from your first anniversary and was your favourite picture of Casey. She was gorgeous. Her hair was darker then, in a beautiful dark dress that had made you weak in the knees. The both of you were laughing at something you had said. Casey has always had the most mesmerising smile- it was one of the first things you noticed when you met her. You smiled to yourself remembering the moment. You glanced back over to the clock- 7:46AM.

You rolled over in Casey’s arms and found her hand resting on the pillow, you intertwined it with your own and brought your lips to her knuckles, leaving featherlight kisses in an attempt to wake her up.

Nothing.

Not even a twitch.

You lifted yourself, lying on your front, resting on your elbows as you caressed her face, leaving soft butterfly kisses along her cheeks, nose and jaw- much like she had done to you the night before. She began to stir and snuggled closer to you. “Casey,” you sung her name. “C’mon, you need to get up.” Silence. You looked up and saw the smallest hint of a smile despite her attempt to conceal it. “I know you’re awake.”

“’m not.”

You contemplated for a moment, “If you get up, I’ll do that thing you like.”

You had never seen somebody move so quickly, “Yep I’m up, I’m here, I’m awake.”

You laughed at her antics.

***

Eventually, you both got out of bed and began your morning routine. You got out the shower into your robe and began brushing your teeth and met Casey where she had started on breakfast. You sat down on the island where your morning coffee was waiting for you. You sipped at the cup- it was perfect- too much sugar and cream for Casey to even consider drinking it but it was a little cup of heaven for your early mornings. “Thanks babe.”

“S’okay,” she lifted her gaze from the waffles to meet yours. You will never understand how you got so lucky.

***

Later that day in her office, Casey pulled out the lunch you had made her, noticing a pink post it note taped onto her bagel. The note was littered with small drawing; hearts, stars, kisses and a little stickman couple holding hands which made her smile to herself. And there in your perfectly imperfect loopy handwriting that you loathed yet she secretly loved:

‘Good luck on your first day and kick ass! I love you, gorgeous!! xxxx’

And Casey wondered how she had gotten so lucky.

#law and order svu #svu #casey novak #casey novak fluff #casey novak x reader #wlw #thatesqcrushvdaybingo

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imacrowcawcaw · 4 years

Text

A Lover With A Red Hot Thong -- Duzzy -- Ch. 1

Author (as known on various sites): luluthechoosingcrow - AO3, theladylovingcrow - Wattpad and Deviantart, lady lover - Rockfic, @insannywestan - Sanny shipping blog, @gretavanfleetconfessions

Fandom: Guns n Roses

Pairings: Duff McKagan/Izzy Stradlin (Duzzy)

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, like extreme fluff, attempted humor, airports, Duff has anxiety, Izzy is really good at comforting him, cuddling, sharing a bed, romance, dates, friends to lovers, adorable giggly boys, kissing

Summary: Duff dressed like a stripper from Arkansas that had discovered the Sex Pistols last week, drank more vodka in a month than most people did in a year, baked amazing blackberry streudals, sang Prince in the shower, and made out with his friends when he was lonely. Izzy was pretty sure that he was in love with him. Something certainly comes out of it when they end up spending a rather romantic week (totally not a honeymoon) in New Orleans because somebody (the very Duff of his longings) always loses their passport.

Taglist: @brianmaysclog @love-n-my-heart-4-n-army-apart @1800endmeplease @tymeconsuming @satans-helper @ageofkiszka @karrotkate @therealswanqueen @mountainofthesunn @onlyan-angel @lantern-inthenight @love-philautia @ubernoxa @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies (reminder that I just remade my taglist and organized it as best as I could, but if you either don’t want to be tagged in something (like GNR) or want to be added, just let me know!)

Author's Notes (aka disclaimers):

1 - Don't own the people or places

2 - It's a combination of real and made up (to my knowledge) places for this story. Don't use this as a fucking tour guide, I've never been to New Orleans and I don't have memories of anywhere east of Lake Tahoe

3 - The timeline of this is also completely made up. I like to bend reality to my will because I am a lazy writer

4 - I tried my hand at writing a character with anxiety. I'm trying my best with the info online and my own experiences, but please let me know if something is wildly inaccurate and detracts from the story

5 - I mean no disrespect to the band. I try my best to be a humorous writer, and I think that I have a pretty healthy view of them, seeing both the good and poking fun at the bad. Some of this might come off as mean, but I’m not really trying to be. I just want people to laugh

6 - Trying that thing where I port my WIPs to get motivated. We’ll see if this works!

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

Monday, September 15, 6:46 AM, New Orleans Louis Armstrong National Airport

"Duff, what exactly do you mean you don't have your passport?" Axl spit, breathing hard in an effort to diffuse combustion. He was not exactly the happiest camper this early in the morning, especially when some people's forgetfulness interrupted the sleep he had planned on getting as soon as they boarded the plane.

The man being questioned gazed at Axl nervously through wide, panicked eyes.

"I don't know, man! Er- I mean, yeah I don't have it... I'm pretty sure the last time I saw it was at the hotel when we checked in. I'm sorry! We just got up so early and it was still dark and I kind of have a hangover from last night so I just shoved my stuff in my bag and went downstairs so we wouldn't be late, but now we're going to be late shit I'm sorry I don't-"

"Hey, hey. Duff, it's okay, just breathe," Izzy soothed, speaking his first words of the day besides a 'fuck off' to Steven, who'd been tasked with waking him up. He settled a coffee-cup-warm, pale hand on Duff's shoulder and turned to speak to Axl.

"It's fine, Bill, we'll figure it out. None of us function well in the morning, do you have your snakeskin belt, hmm?" He asked, knowing that the beloved item was still hanging from a lamp in the hotel room they had checked out of at 4 AM.

Axl's mouth shut with a clack as he glared at Izzy and his damned know it all face. He huffed out a breath and made a big show of rolling his eyes and changing his expression to one of fond exasperation.

"Fine, then, you can figure it out. Don't expect any help from us, though!"

Izzy snorted at his friend's drama and his statement; Steven was currently trying to convince an off duty captain to let him fly his plane, Axl was Axl, and Slash was still dead to the world behind his hair -- very helpful.

"Okay, well, we'll meet you there as soon as we can. Enjoy your flight, don't become members of the mile high club without us," Izzy replied, pulling Duff up and swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

They walked away, arms brushing with every step, to the sound of Axl screaming at them to bring back his belt, and the disgruntled looks of other early morning airport commuters whom they ignored. Izzy followed the overhead signs back to a check in desk with Duff in tow, hoping that everything would work out and that they could be in Amsterdam with the rest of the guys by nightfall.

No such luck, of course.

"I'm sorry," the lady said with a completely uncaring smile, "but the next flight to Amsterdam, commercial or private, isn't until next tuesday. I can book two tickets for you, Mr. Stradlin, but there's nothing more I can do."

Izzy sighed, but nodded. He sorted through bills in his wallet, mocking the lady in his head all the while. 'I'm sorry, but your daughter is going to die from a wrench to the eye socket. I can give you a bandaid, but there's nothing more I can do.'

Duff, though, having woken up on the walk over, was looking closer to an anxiety attack than the mild annoyance Izzy was feeling.

He quickly excused them and grabbed Duff's wrist, pulling him a few feet away for the false illusion of privacy to calm him down.

"Shh, shh, take a deep breath," Izzy whispered, hands gripping Duff's shoulders to force them to look straight in each other's eyes. "Everything will be alright. We'll find your passport, hang out in the city for a while, then go meet up with the guys. Easy, no problems. Relax babe, just try to relax and breathe."

Duff tried to steady his breathing as he clung to Izzy, pulling the man into a hug. He wasn't sure what he would do if Iz wasn't here -- his friend was usually the only one who could stop his incoming anxiety like that.

They stood there for several minutes; Duff regaining a normal breathing pattern, and Izzy slowly rubbing his back. As they pulled away from each other, Duff spotted a hippo in Mardi Gras attire glaring at them in disgust. He smirked rather weakly, still a bit shaken and queasy from his panic but back on the track to his usual self.

"Hey, Iz, it looks like we have an audience, and he's not very pleased."

Izzy grinned back at him, relieved that the Duff he knew was still kicking. Besides, this was their favorite game.

Every once in a while, the boys were subjected to odd stares and the occasional slur. Usually, it was just for dressing like Dolly Parton while shoplifting, but occasionally, it was because they got pretty close. Sometimes they were drunk, sometimes they were just talking to each other or hugging, sometimes because they were blatantly trying to piss off as many people as possible (sometimes the "people" included Axl).

Izzy moved his hands from Duff's shoulder blades, one wrapping tight around his waist and the other getting a firm grip on his delectable ass.

Duff snorted and cupped Izzy's face in his large hands, angling him upwards slightly so that they could lean their foreheads together. He bit his lip to stop from giggling, and Izzy brushed his own mouth against him for a split second, getting a quick hint of teeth and coffee-breathe.

Out of the corner of his eye, Izzy saw the man visibly shudder, his beady eyes grimacing.

A fake blond, middle aged woman Izzy assumed was his wife laid one hand on his polo shirt, as if in an effort to calm him down. It had the opposite effect. The man grunted and skewered his mouth to the side, squinting even more as if a giant rainbow spotlight was being blasted into his eyes.

Izzy smirked, though it was barely noticeable against Duff's mouth.

Duff murmured something about 'making a scene', but Izzy knew he was referring to their audience and not themselves. Neither of them cared who saw this, though if it was printed in any magazines Axl might try to suplex them out of a window. "Try" being the key word -- the little red terror was too chicken to actually try that with Izzy, and too short to get enough leverage on Duff.

Somewhere behind him, Izzy heard the woman whine, "Oh, Charles!" like she was getting the worst rimjob of her life.

"It's disgusting, Carol! I won't stand for it!"

"Time to get going?" Duff whispered, pulling back an inch.

Izzy gave him one last searing kiss and an extra probing squeeze to the ass then nodded, breaking away. They quickly picked up their suitcases and high tailed it out of the building, leaving dust, stares, and a purple and green, mouth breathing, homophobic fatman in their wake.

Duff laughed as they came to a stop in the middle of a group of Japanese tourists. They all turned to look at him as he barked, panted, barked, and then wheezed with his hands on his knees.

Izzy was looking at Duff too, a rare - though not as much as some people would think - smile on his lips. He patted his friend on the back and pulled out a cigarette, then offered one to Duff. It would make the wheezing worse, but a smoker cares none about that.

They lit up from Izzy's lighter as the tour grouped streamed past them, completely nonplussed at the disgruntled - or awed, recognizing - stares they received. Once they had the stretch of sidewalk to themselves, Duff stacked their suitcases one atop the other and sat down while Izzy hailed a cab. His long arms soon garnered them a ride and they hopped into the sedan after tossing their bags into the trunk.

It was blue, with a peeling leather interior and a hand stenciled logo on either window; the usual black and white checkers ran a wobbly circle around the outside of the car. The driver glared at them from underneath bushy brows as they smoked their cigarettes, and Izzy smiled at him politely, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror, until he finished and put out his cig on the door's plastic.

Duff's mind was in some far off place and he didn't notice any interactions taking place. Izzy wondered if he was thinking about how to find his passport, or what to do in the city, or about girls -- or, the bleach blonde head rolling onto his shoulder could have been asleep. The snores more or less confirmed it.

"Where to?" The driver asked after a minute.

“Marriott on Jackson,” Izzy answered, turning his torso minutely to get more comfortable.

Etta James’ smoky vocals floated out of the speakers, half of the tone quality getting lost in the maze of beads hanging down from the cab ceiling in a curtain between driver and passengers. Izzy sighed and shifted; the leather creaked; Duff snorted and drool ran down his arm. He smiled down at the man asleep on him and brushed some hair back from his sticky mouth, fingers slowly tracing Duff’s jawline.

Michael Andrew Mckagan was a unique specimen, that was for sure. He was laid back and welcoming, yet had enough energy to rival Popcorn, at times. He was loving and affectionate to his friends, and scathingly rude to those that hurt them. Duff dressed like a stripper from Arkansas that had discovered the Sex Pistols last week, drank more vodka in a month than most people did in a year, baked amazing blackberry streudals, sang Prince in the shower, and made out with his friends when he was lonely. Izzy was pretty sure that he was in love with him.

The engine of the cab coughed, and suddenly the vehicle was rolling to a stop outside the hotel they had left only an hour or so ago. Izzy gently shook Duff awake and went to pay the man while Duff got their bags back out of the trunk.

“That will be forty dollars,” the man said, staring Izzy down from beneath his fuzzy caterpillar. Interestingly enough, that was the only facial hair he had; perhaps he’d shaved off his mustache and glued it, hair by hair, onto his brow bone.

“Really? It was half that to get to the airport two hours ago. What’s your game, man? You think you can scam us?”

Izzy didn’t like being scammed. It was damn near impossible to get one up on him - let alone very rare someone even dared to try - so this guy was about to get it if he thought he could.

“You ruined my interior. Smells like smoke. I need to clean it now. I know you have the money,” the man glared, narrowing his eyes. The caterpillar hunched down too, like it was trying to curl up on itself to avoid getting eaten by a hawk-nosed Stradlin.

“Is that so?” Izzy snorted, fishing out another cigarette just for the hell of watching the man get angrier.

“Here, forty dollars. C’mon Iz, let’s go.”

Duff handed the man a fold of two twenties with a sigh, his other hand subtly resting on Izzy’s lower back for a moment before removing itself again. He wanted to fight it - there was no way that guy should be getting away with charging them double price, fuck that! - but Duff was tired and the money was already handed over. Izzy knew that physical signal from Dff, too, the hand on the back: it meant “leave it”.

With a final huff and a not so subtle bird, Izzy grabbed his carpet bag from where Duff had lain it on the asphalt and followed his tall friend through the hotel’s front entrance, cigarette dangling from his mouth all the while.

They made their way over to the front desk, explained the situation, and then they were back inside the mirrored elevator armed with the suite’s key card, going up like they had never left in the first place.

“Hmm, wonder what it would be like to make love in this elevator?” Duff mused, staring upwards at his reflection in the ceiling.

Issy followed the bold line of his profile, from Adam's apple to nose to messy hair, before he finally glanced at the ceiling, too.

“Interesting, certainly. I’ve done it in front of a mirror, but not in a whole box of them.”

“Yeah. Hey, we should come back here and incorporate this into our next video!” Duff exclaimed, grinning at him.

“Izzy snorted. “What, you wanna come back here a third time? This place got like a magical draw or some shit?”

They both cracked up.

#duzzy #duff mckagan #izzy stradlin #duff x izzy #gnr #guns n roses #gnr fic #guns n roses fanfic #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #lulucrowproductions #fluff #friends to lovers #humor

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blake-belladonna-defence-force · 5 years

Note

Let me start of with I love all your fics so much!! They literally make my day so much better when I come home and read them ! I’ve had this au idea in my head and who better to go to then the best writer I know?! It’s a basketball au with Yang as a player and Blake as a cheerleader. One of them gets hurt and the other comforts them. It’s super random I know but it’s just an idea 👀

*flattered screeching* thank you so much! I’m so glad that you enjoy them!

Alright. Basically, Blake and Yang are “just friends” but are definitely together. Everyone knows this. Even their respective families that are at the point where they are wingmanning the girls because they’re that oblivious.

So say hi to wingparents Ghira and Kali who just want these dumb kids to stop being so oblivious because it was not this hard when they were kids!

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Yang grinned as she watched Blake fly through the air. The cheerleading squad was out in fine form tonight. Yang had to admire their athleticism. God knew that she couldn’t do half of the stunts they pulled off.

Plus… Blake looked pretty damn cute in that uniform.

“Woo! That’s my girl!” Yang whooped as Blake flipped off of Sun and Neptune’s raised hands, twisting around in mid air before landing safely in their arms as they gently set her back down. Granted, Blake wasn’t the only girl pulling stunts like that but she was the only one that Yang paid attention to.

Yang leaned forward on her knees as the group began to assemble once more, with Blake getting into position into the centre of the group. Weiss was on her left and Ilia on her right. The two shorter girls were to be thrown up and balanced onto two boys’ hands and Blake would be sent up high into the air, where she would perform one or two difficult twists before landing in Sun and Neptune’s arms again before joining Weiss and Ilia. Once done, the crowd would lose their minds and the squad would lower the girls and they would run back to their area, letting the basketball teams ran out and get ready for the game.

But… that’s not what happened. One of the cheerleaders supporting Blake stumbled, throwing Blake’s arc off. Yang could only watch in horror as her best friend was sent to the ground with a sickeningly loud thud. There was silence for a long moment before a girl screamed and the entire stadium burst into panic. Yang tried to run forward but her teammates, Pyrrha and Nora, caught her and held her back.

“Yang. You need to let the medics look after her first. You can visit her after.” Pyrrha said firmly, her hands gripping Yang’s shoulders, easily keeping her at bay with the help of Nora. “Let her get checked and then you can go visit her.”

Yang watched, heart in her throat as the medical staff brought in a stretcher and pulled Blake out. Yang knew that there was no way in hell that she’d be able to focus on the game. Not like this.

‘Please be okay, Blake.!

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Some time after, Yang made her way through the hospital to Blake’s room.

“Kali. Please. It was an accident. There is no need to hit anyone with a tea tray.”

“Ghira-“

“Um. Hi?” Yang called nervously, still clad in her jersey. She grinned anxiously at the Belladonna family. “Is… is this a bad time?”

“Of course not, girl.” Ghira rumbled, a kind smile on his face as he walked over and scooped Yang up into a bear hug. “You’re always welcome with the Belladonnas, Miss Xiao Long. You know this.” He added as he set Yang down and patted her shoulder affectionately. He stepped back and let Kali engulf Yang into a hug before he continued. “Perhaps you can convince Blake to stay still.”

“Oh yes!” Kali grinned impishly, her ears flicking in delight. “I’m sure that she’ll listen to you.”

“Mother. Father. Leave Yang alone.” Blake groaned, embarrassment coating her voice.

“Come on, Kali. I believe that the doctor wished to speak with us?”

“He did?” Kali glanced at Ghira as he face palmed. “Oh! He did! Then I guess we should go speak to the doctor! As he very much wanted to speak to us!”

“Kali. Please.” Ghira sighed as he playfully rolled his eyes at Yang, passing her, Kali following shortly after, giving Yang a sharp shove towards Blake as she left the room and shut the door.

“Are… your parents trying to wingman me?” Yang smirked at her blushing friend. “Like, I know they like me more than Sun but damn. I guess I should feel flattered that they want me to date their daughter.” Yang teased as she sat in the chair beside Blake.

“Ugh. Shut up.” Blake muttered, her ears pinning, as she tried to hide a smile. “You are such a narcissist.”

“It’s called confidence, babe. If you’ve got it, why hide it?” Yang said with a cheeky wink, delighting in the giggle that followed.

Until Blake let out a gasp of pain, clutching her left side. Yang let out a soft whine of concern.

“Oh God.” Blake wheezed. “Don’t make me laugh. My ribs are bruised.”

“Not broken?”

“No, thank God. Means I can get back to cheerleading sooner.”

“I understand what your parents meant now.” Yang sighed, reaching out a hand and tucking Blake’s hair behind her ear. “Blake…”

“I’m resting!” Blake said indignantly, moving her head away from Yang’s hand and huffing. “You know I hate being at a standstill. We have the cheer championship against the Haven Witches coming up in a couple of months. Their our biggest threat and I sure as hell am not letting Cinder give me her attitude! She’s been insufferable since she won last year.”

“Yeah, I know.” Yang murmured, gently placing her hand on her friend’s jaw and guiding her to look at her. “But you can still kick her ass and take it easy. Especially since you’re hurt. Just… look after yourself. If not for you, then for the people you care about. Your family, your friends… me.”

“I don’t need-“

“God. You’re so stubborn.” Yang muttered as she leaned forward and kissed Blake’s forehead. “I swear I’ll carry you everywhere around school if that’s what it takes to get you to rest, you ass.”

“… is that a threat or a promise?” Blake said quietly, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Because I’m not sure that too many girls, myself included, would complain about that.”

“Hmm.” Yang hummed as she sat back down and held Blake’s hand. “Then what can I do to convince you to actually rest?”

“I mean… there is the school dance coming up?” Blake said with faux thoughtfulness, her lips twisting up into a smirk. “Perhaps… if I knew I had somebody to impress… I might be more inclined to rest?”

Yang felt her jaw drop slightly before she let out a laugh.

“Oh wow. Using your injury as an excuse to get a date?” Yang murmured teasingly.

“Oh please. Like you haven’t been trying to get me to ask you out since we met.” Blake scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re not subtle.”

“I- Okay. Look-“ Yang started before dropping her head with a groan. “Excuse me for being a gentlewoman.”

“Do you not want to go to dance with me?”

“I never said that!”

“Then, I’ll pick up at 6 that night?”

“Why are you picking me up?!”

“Because I actually have a car and I’m not wrecking my dress riding that death trap of a bike of yours.”

“Listen here, you!” Yang growled playfully, pretending to bite Blake’s hand. “Watch it.”

Blake laughed, letting out a silent hiss as her ribs twinged. Yang felt her chest twist painfully and gently played with Blake’s hair and soothed her.

“I’m sorry.” Yang murmured, kissing Blake’s hand.

“Don’t be.” Blake said, breathing as carefully as she could. “It’s not your fault you’re such a clown.”

“God.” Yang chuckled softly, smiling as her hand carded through Blake’s hair. “I love it when you’re feisty.”

Blake hummed quietly and leaned into her hand, her eyes drifting shut as she enjoyed the ministrations. They both knew that this had been a long time coming. Yang just wished that it didn’t take Blake literally falling for them to finally ask each other out.

#blake belladonna #yang xiao long #bumbleby #rwby #fanfic

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sugarfreecapsicle · 5 years

Text

i saw the light

moodboard by the incomparable @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan

moodboard by the lovely @sebashtiansatan

A/N: first of all, big congrats to @marquiswrites on her milestone! She’s a wonderful and creative writer who deserves every ounce of recognition she can be given. I’m thrilled for her and even more honored to be able to participate in this challenge for her. second of all, thanks for putting up with my crazy and this series - here’s hoping I can somehow keep this going!

warnings: religious ceremony (christian), mentions of deity, prayer, hymns, ANGST

pairing: bucky x reader, southern usa au

country mile masterlist

Molten dread seeps from your chest to your toes and piles, feet to knees. Hallowed ground, from both childhood memories and divine merit shackle you to the gravel. Weathered steps precede the equally aged white doors. Music hums from the other side, choir warming up, some attendees mingling and chatting about their week prior to the balmy Sunday morning.

“Well, look at you!” You pivot and grin at the decades-old Buick Sam assists his mother out of - this morning her suit matches the car in alabaster white, accented by a pink ribbon tied on her hat and a coordinating purse. Sam loops her arm in his, grinning proud. The Wilsons, in your experience, mirror the same smile: bright, joyful, genuine.

“Look at you!” A laugh as you tuck some hair behind your ear. Mrs. Wilson hobbles along by a patient Sam to meet you where you stand. “You look so pretty today, Mrs. Wilson. You tryin’ to impress somebody?”

She laughs heartily and swats at you with her well loved leather Bible. “Honey, I’m just here to make sure Jesus knows I’m tryin’ to behave myself and keep Sammy in line.”

“Mama, you know I don’t make trouble,” Sam retorts, feigning some minor offense. Of course his mother pays him no mind.

“It sure finds you easy, son,” she murmurs and jabs his side with her elbow. “Let’s get in there before the reverend thinks I’m not comin’ today.”

Another common quality in the Wilsons: they quietly sneak through your safeguards and guide you in the right direction. You flank the elderly woman and find solace in the whine of the stairs underfoot. Power in faith, Mrs. Wilson would’ve called it had she known your entrapment in the parking lot.

The three of you make it up the stairs carefully, balancing Sam’s mother between as her knees aren’t what they used to be. The comfort of her habit to sit on the right, in the third pew from the front where she can feel the sun beam through the stained glass depiction of Jesus in the garden of Gesthemane settles in your chest.

Before you can scurry away to one of the back pews, she gently pats the seat to her left with a coy grin. “You always have a place with my family, baby.”

So you sit and feel a bit more prim as the townsfolk make their way in, Coulson mingling with the present congregation. In the seersucker suit and tie, a small cross pinned to his lapel, a cracked and worn leather Bible in his hand that now wore a golden wedding band. Light gleams off it from the hanging metal-work lights so out of date you marveled at their resilience.

Even the pillars in the church are the same - a fresh coat of white paint to match the exterior, stained glass windows depicting the life of Christ only a little dirty from recent rain, low pile green carpet from the door at the back up into the choir loft.

“Good to see you this morning,” Coulson greets jovially, hand extended to you for an always firm shake. He passes onto Mrs. Wilson and Sam quickly who both answer him with pearly white smiles. You grin, a knot in your chest. “It’s been a long while since you’ve been in town - we’ve missed having you here.”

“It’s..” you clear your throat and hold a hand to your chest, still politely grinning, “it’s good to be back, Reverend.”

Coulson nods, hands folded over the Bible in front of him as he chats with the Wilsons about the restaurant, the family band and if Sam wouldn’t mind helping tune the guitar this morning when you notice a barely put together attendee enter from the side door.

“Well if it ain’t the Barnes boy,” Mrs. Wilson mutters in your ear. Coulson quietly shifts along to the far aisle and walks to meet with more of the flock.

Bucky smiles and nods with one of the deacons, hands clasped between them in welcoming. As expected, the young farmer traded in his plaid shirt and red dirt mottled denim for black chinos and a clean tattersall button down. Tucked in, of course, similar to the small knot of hair just above the collar of his shirt.

He moves to the left side of the pulpit and makes himself comfortable at the piano. Since when had this developed? The Bucky you remembered couldn’t sit still long enough for anything like a piano lesson. For all the nostalgia, parts of this little world shifted out of place, a memory disjointed.

Steve appears in your periphery looking spick-and-span as ever with Peggy not far behind in a pretty blue pencil dress. Both greet you warmly with hugs and jump into the conversation as your now full pew inventories the goings on ahead of you.

“Bucky’s been playing for a few months now. It’s the only way we could get him to show up anymore,” Steve answers your unasked question. Apparently you’d been caught ogling.

Your Bucky - if you could even call him that anymore - loved being social at church. He could do without the sermon and the singing, but the congregational greetings just after the reverend’s first song fit into his heart lock and key. He beamed, shaking hands with anyone he could reach, even crossing the aisle to visit with as many as he could. Age never mattered to him then - he’d shake hands as heartily with an elder as a baby.

This new Bucky fusses with his sleeves at the piano bench alone. Not frowning, but not smiling.

“Y’all are comin’ by for supper after the service today?” Mrs. Wilson leans over to address both Steve and Peggy, expectant eyes and a nodding head.

“You couldn’t pay me to be anywhere else but your kitchen, ma’am,” Steve answers kindly, giving Peggy’s manicured hand a squeeze. Another new development. Warmth radiated from the couple, a new love realized.

“Well, good,” the elderly woman settles back and gathers her Bible and sermon outline in her lap. “Lord knows I need an army to eat all the food I make.”

You sense the roll of Sam’s eyes - always a few steps behind his mother’s innocent manipulation. The din of the room swells briefly, and Reverend Coulson makes his way up the steps to his matching white podium. A full congregation, choir in attendance, musicians tuned. And an eager preacher with the Good Word for his flock.

“Good morning,” Coulson calls into the microphone.

Your religion hadn’t survived your departure from town either, but the enthusiasm of the room was contagious. The music starts, and you find your gaze drifting to the piano as you sing. Sleepy blue eyes meet yours in the moment before a blink, then they’re gone, reading the sheet music in front of him. Probably just his eyes finding a place to rest as he plays, a subconscious thing, not intentional in the least.

The muscle memory of the opening prayer followed by a short hymn - I Saw the Light sung by the reverend himself - and then choral worship awakens a dormant longing in your bones. Routine, peace, an odd juxtaposition to your inner turmoil.

Coulson opens his Bible at the song’s end with echoing applause, resting it against his little wooden podium. He has more crows’ feet now, but the smile is all the same.

“Isn’t it a wonderful day the Lord has made for us?”

Amen’s scatter around the chapel, and suddenly you realize you’re without a Bible and a small copy of the outline for the sermon. Might as well be considered naked and foolish in the church. Without prompting from you, Steve passes you a heavy and scribbled old copy of the Word, with him since high school. Peggy follows suit and shares her Scripture with him and sets the outline nearby.

A note on the edges of his outline reads: He stares at you every time you look away.

It’s heavy in your lap, a foreign and old thing, while a shiver pricks at the back of your neck. The feeling of being watched. You dare not look away from Coulson as he emphatically tells the story of Jesus’ miracle of feeding five thousand people with only five loaves and two fish. God provides for us in the same way, he says, creating blessings out of what some would consider table scraps.

“The Lord abides and he provides!” Coulson laughs heartily and the congregation returns his excitement.

He casts his usual glance at the clock - he’s ready for lunch, ready to wrap up his sermon. One more song to call those who feel compelled to kneel at the altar or prayer benches to entreat God’s mercy - Bucky and the Wilsons play Softly and Tenderly in slowed tempo.

Coulson steps down from the pulpit to the altars and benches, offering to pray with some of those who appear moved to tears, a few weeping as if to mourn a death. He places a hand at their backs, each and every one in their own turn, and murmurs quiet prayers, beseeching God’s intervention to those families.

Your heart twists in your chest, a rag being wrung out of its heavy laden burden of moisture. Fingers grip the Old Book in your hands just along the edges. Steve doesn’t notice. Your lips work between teeth carefully when you brave a glance to the piano.

Bucky - eyes watery and tender - stares at you like you’re breaking his heart. The song ends, prayers complete, and Coulson dismisses the congregation to flood the parking lot. Sam offers you a ride to his mother’s house, and you accept in a voice distant and foreign.

The little yellow house teems with friends and family alike, and you manage to weave a path to the living room’s sofa. Faint magnolia wafts about once you plop down, memories of nights spent whispering and giggling in pillow forts made from the cushions bubbling into mind. Then it’s all cheers when the first round of biscuits emerge from the oven.

Steve and Peggy find you soon after and try to maneuver the bottled hallway to get a plate for themselves, portioned by either the matron of the family or her ever faithful son. The process runs like her diner with servings then seating then conversation over a home cooked meal.

Your table with the new couple allows for one more, and you expect the seat to remain empty until Sam manages to make a plate of his own.

And then Bucky finds his way over and sits unceremoniously next to you, arms brushing against each other and flinching away as quickly. Steve says hello to his friend who responds with a shoveled bite into his mouth and a nod.

Some things clearly remain the same.

Sunday lunch continues like this, bumping elbows and hands with Bucky more often than either of you would prefer. Peggy tries her best to keep your attention; Steve and Bucky share clipped sentences and have their own implied conversation. With only his green beans and some gravy left on his plate, Bucky uses the napkin draped over his knee and moves to depart.

“You need a ride home?”

The trio wear expectant looks you don’t notice until you look up from your own scant plate. Your cheeks warm under the awkward silence, you quickly wipe away any remnant of food from your lips and mumble out your acceptance.

A flurry of goodbyes, and then it’s just you and Bucky in his truck thundering down the road to your house. He’s quiet, hand resting over his mouth while the other minds the steering wheel.

“What was up with your staring this morning at the service?”

The engine roars in the tension between you.

“What staring?”

Lazy mid-afternoon air tangles your hair. Your jaw sets tightly.

“The staring at me, Barnes.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” he scoffs, hand scratching against his unshaven cheek. “Good to know you left all this to go get yourself an ego, though, that’s good for you.”

Subconsciously your right foot shifts left in the dirtied floorboard to pump an invisible brake pedal. The truck pushes onward.

“An ego?” Raised voice and adrenaline. “Bucky, if someone told you a snake bit your ass, you’d say it was a damn bee even if you saw the thing slither under your feet.”

Your pushing against the floorboard suddenly pays off when Bucky diverts the truck to the side of the road and squeals to a stop. After shutting the engine off, he angles toward you, thin blue against wide black pupils.

“What’d’ya want me to say? D’you want me to roll out some red carpet for you because the princess returned?” Veins in his neck emerge under sun-tanned skin that fades paler by the white collar of his undershirt. Your throat dries when his silver chain catches sunlight. “You were just gone one day. No goodbye, no nothing. Just gone. You didn’t give a shit about any of us, how we’d feel.”

How I’d feel remains unspoken.

“When have you ever known me to live my life for other people, Bucky?”

The silence of Bucky’s heart plummeting through the undercarriage carries on as a coin in a well. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and for a moment, you regret your reply.

“Sorry I thought my feelings mattered to you.”

And what can you say to that? The finality in his own answer keeps your lips shut for the remainder of your ride home. An apology hangs in your throat, in your heart, but finds nowhere to surface. Too little too late.

You don’t even say goodbye when you exit his truck and shut the door behind you. Neither does he.

#marquiswrites100challenge #my fic #country mile #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky angst #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader

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vima000 · 5 years

Text

I’m not a writer but this scenario seemed really cute in my head.

Everyone is tired after boarding the Waverider from Earth-38. The group disperses in the main hub, some wandering into the halls to grieve in privacy with loved ones and others like Mick and Kate just collapsing in the lounge with sorrow faces and a bottle of beer. The only face Lena is seeking out is Kara’s. When she finally meets her eyes she feels a pang in her heart.

Standing across the room is Kara and Alex followed closely by Clark and Lois. She is close enough to pick up some sentences, albeit a bit more difficult with the gut wrenching sobs shaking Kara’s body as Alex holds her tightly and Clark offers a supporting hand on her shoulder.

“I lost my home Alex! I lost everything again!” Kara croaks out into Alex’s shoulder. “How many more people do I have to lose?” Alex offers soothing reassurances and positive outlooks on how many lives they saved with the evacuation. It only makes Kara tear up more, feeling heavier and defeated.

After the eyes meet, Kara rubs the back of her hand across her nose and sniffles. She releasing Alex from her steel grip and pats Clarks hand which is still offering her comfort. She offers them all a solemn smile and request to be left alone. The group disperses hesitantly and Kara meets Lena’s eyes again. A subtle nod leads them both to meet up in the hall to walk around. Neither speak for the first minute or so, but when they do they can’t help but awkwardly laugh.

“Thank you fo-“

“Kara i am so-“

Kara shakes her head and peers down at her boots. Lena bites her lip to stop the smile from growing. This is the first time they have been able to truly have a moment to themselves without the petty bickering and snarky remarks.

Before they began to speak again, Mick passes them in the hall grunting out “need more beer” and heads to the kitchen. This causes Kara to let out a snort which leads to a laugh and then to a sob. Lena guides Kara into a sleeping quarter. All Lena can do is offer someone to hug which Kara accepts.

After a few minutes pass, Kara sniffles, straightens up, and lightly shuffles a bit to put some distance from them on the bed. Although Lena’s face stays the same, it still hurts to see her add some distance even though it is her fault for having a rift between them in the first place.

“Look, Kara...” Lena begins hesitantly, “I know I have been a terrible best friend and I really shouldn’t have pushed you away like I did, like a Luthor, but I need you to know that you are still a hero to everyone out there and to all the lives you just saved. You are still a hero to me. I didn’t realize how much of a catalyst my brother was until I saw him again with the Monitor and he made those classic Lex remarks. I fell into his games and although that does not excuse my behavior and actions towards you, I need you to know that i’m sorry. You were right. I should have talked to you when I found out but I couldn’t. My mind wouldn’t let me. I’ve been hurt and betrayed too many times by too many loved ones.”

Slowly a tear trickles down Lena’s cheek, shocking her because she didn’t even realize she allowed her composure to fall. To let Kara see the pain and turmoil less than a foot away. Before she can brush it away, a warm thumb swipes across her cheek to brush it for her. Kara’s hand quickly retreats and she clears her throat.

“Lena...” Kara begins while staring at her toes, “I have lost my family, my aunt, my adoptive father, and my home planet twice but what hurt the most was losing you. Losing my best friend even though she is sitting right beside me. Losing the one person I could just be myself and it was selfish of me to hide this” she gestures to her currently soot ruined suit, “but can’t you see now why I did it? With you I didn’t have to carry the weight of the world, the loss of my planet, and being the sole survivor of kryptonian culture... because in a way Lena,” she pauses to finally look into her deep emerald eyes, “you felt like home and allowed me to be myself. So when I lost you, I lost myself and I lost my home. Thats what hurt the most and it hurt more than kryptonite ever could” Kara finishes.

Lena was shocked to here such a confession. She never gave Kara a chance to explain herself truly. The nagging pull on her heart is guilt. Guilt for not giving Kara the benefit of the doubt and instead trusting her brothers words before he passed. The only step would be to move forward since there is no other place to go but up. Hah, how ironic. At least one of them can fly.

Unsure of how to respond, Lena puts her hand on Kara’s knee and says “Kara Danvers, I have never met somebody like you. It’s almost as if your not from Earth.” It was a poor attempt to break the tension and seriousness. It works though, leaves Kara snorting and giggling.

“Actually it’s Kara Zor-El”

“Kara Zor-El” Lena repeats, liking the way it flows out of her mouth, even with a bit of her Irish accent slipping up. Lena finds herself looking forward to learning all the little things about the real Kara, her Kara. Heat quickly rises to Kara’s cheeks because Rao does Lena say her name so beautifully.

“Well Ms. Zor-El, I know we still have a lot to discuss but,” Lena pauses to flash her signature smirk, “at least Mick had the right idea of going to the kitchen. I don’t know about you but i’m starving and I heard this ship has a food fabricator thing so why don’t we go grab something to eat?”

As if on cue, Kara’s stomach grows angrily leaving both women in a fit of giggles. Both are crying but for once they are happy tears. Tears that symbolize a new chapter in their relationship.

A gasp leaves Kara’s lips and Lena raises her left eyebrow.

“UNLIMITED POTSTICKERS!” Kara exclaims and then blushes immediately. Lena can only smile a genuine smile at that.

“Well then darling, lets go get some potstickers.”

#supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp #crisis on infinite earths #crossover

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aggresivelyfriendly · 5 years

Text

Summer’s Child- Chapter 6-Angel of the Morning Pt. 2

Morning Loves! Here is the second half of the last chapter. I hope it’s as good to you as it is to Harry....

Thanks to the tripod, @dirtystyles and @bleedinglove4h for being the best pocket friends a writer could bombard with ideas and all caps texts. And to @emulateharry for her 👀. I edited a while ago, so all mistakes belong to me!

Jillian was fussing with the radio in the truck, the static it put out matched the static in his head.

He was sure he would have focused more on the hamster spinning on its wheel in his brain, but her face caught his attention. It was blank, but the corners of her lips were turned down a touch.

"Alright?" He slid in, and redirected his attention from the gears when she slid right up next to him and slipped her arm between his body and bicep. Her head found his shoulder, the notch she'd claimed at 9.

"No."

Well, he knew that, but he was hoping drawing out why wouldn't be as much like pulling teeth as getting her to divulge things that hurt her.

"What happened?" God, this question could cover at least the last 10 years of her life. He meant tonight.

"If I tell you, promise you will never breathe a word of it again. I don't want to think about it." He knew this was why she didn't even want to say things out loud ever. He didn't think her method worked though, it always came out, her pain, it's truth.

"Did he," he swallowed. This was the question he had been avoiding asking for years, with her dad and her mom's boyfriends and now Will. "Did he hu— did something happen?"

"No," she shook her head. "I hurt him."

"What?"

Her self satisfied tone matched the grin he caught in the red shine of the one stop light in town. Should he be worried?

"Jillian!" Harry pulled over and stopped. He needed to look at her face. What did that mean? "Hurt him how? Why?"

She sighed. "Everything was fine, and he was his normal self at the dance. Like, more interested in his friends yet complimentary, but only on my hair and body and...anyway. But it was like our normal dates and he was sweet, like a candy coating, ya know." He wasn't sure he did, but he nodded. "But then we got to the hotel, and, well, I wanted to hang out, people were already in that first hotel room. They were smoking." They'd talked about that. She liked getting high. "And had a keg." Drunk less so, she had good reason for caution there. Though he never said that, just encouraged her avoidance.

"Okay. Trina and I were in there. I didn't see you."

"Yeah that's cuz he insisted we go to our room first. It took us a while because everybody stopped us to slap him skin." She rolled her big eyes and shook her head. He loved her annoyed face, but annoyed seemed mild for the build up. "I caught a hit or two," She stamped her shoes, like she did when her mom left grade school events early. She usually got on with it then. "We made it to the room, him maneuvering me like I was his truck. He gave a little push in. I barely got to ask if we were changing for the party. I had that little bag of jeans and a sweater, before he started kissing me. Which was nice. He's a good kisser." She shrugged and Harry tried to be as nonchalant as her. "And we've been fooling around a little, but he usually, it was like forceful," She shook her blonde head to cover her face. "anyway, he didn't ask anything and was yanking at the sleeves of my dress I was afraid it was gonna tear. But, he had me backed against the door, luckily."

"Why luckily?"

"It's harder to knee somebody in the jewels if they're on top of you." She smiled like she'd stolen some cream and Harry blinked.

"What happened then?"

"He whined a lot, doubled over like an omelet and called me a tease and said I was trash, and lucky he gave me the time of day." Another eye roll. She was surprisingly relaxed considering it sounded like the kissing was more of an attack to Harry. "And then he started on all the things I hoped he never thought about me, but I know other people think." She hugged him closer. "That he knew I lied about where I lived and that if I didn't sleep with him, he was gonna dump me. But when he started in on you I kicked him again and started out the door to him yelling about us being over."

"And?" Harry knew he was bug eyed, like when he wore coke bottle lenses as a toddler, "what did he say about me." He shook he's head. "Never mind that's not important." He knew she wouldn't tell him anyway. "What happen then."

"He grabbed my foot and told me he loved me, but couldn't wait anymore and he'd have to find 'it' elsewhere. I told him that wasn't a threat, because I was done and kicked him off my leg. I think I caught his face a little." Harry wasn't sure if he should be impressed or scared she was smiling about all this "i'm sure I looked messy, but I needed to get out of there like now. But when I came out, Steve cheered and rushed in to give Will a high five. He must have helped him up. But Will never came out. I heard Steve telling everybody that Will had finally got a piece from my hiding spot all night. So, school's gonna be hell for the next month too."

"That's awful." He held her hand for a moment and waited for her to continue. "Why didn't you come get me?"

"I tried." He cringed. "But when I came to find you, you and Trina looked like you were having fun. So I found somebody with a joint and a quiet place to wait." She shrugged and he felt like he'd eaten ground glass, thinking about her alone. She seemed ok, but Jillian always seemed ok.

"We could have left whenever you wanted."

"I didn't want to ruin your prom night."

"I wouldn't have had a prom night if not for you. And besides, you couldn't ruin my night, any night. I'd rather spend time with you than the twats from our soon to be alma mater."

"What's a twat?" She giggled.

"Well, it's actually," he shook his head. He never thought about what it meant, or having to explain it. "It's an English word for idiot." He pulled out into non existent traffic.

"That's not true, you're doing that thing with your eye you do when you lie."

"What thing with my eye?"

"Your right eye twitches a tiny bit."

He didn't know that. "Oh, well I'm not lying."

"I am asking the next Englishmen I see ya know."

"Not my da!" He responded quickly.

"See! I knew it didn't mean idiot."

A change of subject was needed. "Home?"

She shook her head like it was the needle on the Richter scale in that educational short about earthquakes. He'd shown her that when he'd been trying to talk her out of California. The change of her mood was as shocking as a tremor.

Now was the time to tell her.

"So—"

"Harry, do you like Trina?"

"What?"

"Did you like going with Trina? You gonna take her out again." He really hadn't even thought about it, honestly.

"She was nice. We're going bowling next week. But only if you want to come."

"That's not really what I asked."

"No, I, I don't like Trina, not like, like that." The truck came to a stop like their conversation. He didn't know what to say and she was in her head, again.

His house was dark. Harry was surprised. Really. He thought for sure his da would wait up. He did suppose it was 3 AM.

They snuck through the house, like how they used to try to get to and from the cut crystal candy bowl when they were young. He held her hand, and when he would stop, she would crash into his back and muffle her laughter in between his shoulder blades.

He'd quit the jacket. The ruffled shirt she loved was thin enough to feel the heat and moisture of her joy. He wished there was more reasons to stop or a longer distance to his room. He loved how she could laugh after a night when she could very well be crying.

"I'm surprised." His filter turned off as soon as they got to his room."

"About what?" She looked up at him. Jillian was still really close, she took a couple steps to stay in his space.

"That you aren't more upset. About Will and your, well your mom."

Her eyes hardened for a split second. Like she was measuring the distance to a finish line. They cleared them, and she looked at him in a way he couldn't quantify. It was the fraternal twin of her best friend eyes, maybe. "I'm with you. It's hard to feel down when I'm around you. You're my favorite person Harry." She smiled her honest smile then and the next words stole his breath before he thought too much about them. "I love you."

That was the second time she'd said that and not meant what he wanted. He closed his eyes, because he couldn't see the face he adored say the thing he wanted to hear most and not mean it how he needed.

They popped open when he felt her mouth press to his. Her bottom lip slipped just so between his and the pressure she exerted was very different from their mistletoe kiss. When she sucked a little, he heard himself groan.

"Harry," she whispered, all breath and bone. "Will you kiss me back? Don't you want to kiss me?" Just the words felt like a kiss, if he was honest. At least the way he thought kisses felt. He wasn't sure exactly what he was supposed to do.

But he said yes, meant yes, so he said yes. His voice was a rumble, his truck over the railroad tracks. His lips moving gave her all the opportunity to teach him what a kiss could feel like. All the slips and slides and sucks. When she slid her tongue over his bottom lip, his mouth fell open. Then, it slid inside, and if he wasn't sure he groaned earlier, he did now. Felt it in his stomach then reverb in his throat. Jillian moaned and pressed her self to him top to tail. He could feel all sweet, soft, strong parts of her, so he almost missed her hands undoing his top button. The one at his throat. Then her mouth was exploring the white under the frills.

"Jillian, what are you doing?"

"I'm making love to you." She said like she was offering him cup of tea. "Don't you want me to?"

The presence she pressed against in his pants said a very solid yes, but he was confused. She'd just kicked her boyfriend in the balls for the same suggestion hours before. "Yeah, obviously." She giggled and he was weaker for that sound than the fact she'd pulled his shirt off his shoulders and went for his pants. "But, why?" It seemed like a major question, and stupid as it may be to slow this down, he needed to know.

"Why?" She asked him like it was his question that came out of left field, not her advance. She furrowed her brow and tilted her head. She was the color pink.

"Because I love you, and you're the only person I love who loves me back." He wished he could argue that, but all evidence was to the contrary. "Because you've never tried one thing with me that I didn't ask for." She had his pants off his hips. Her hand went to his dick between them, stroked over him like he'd done himself the night before thinking of her in the dress she wore. "And because I want to, want you."

He groaned then and soiled his boxers like nobody had ever touched him. Because nobody ever had. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry." he was reeling, his mind as confused but engaged as when they taught chemical equations last year. "How embarrassing." He hid his head in her shoulder before he thought better of it and tried to turn away.

Jillian caught his shoulders. She laughed, but not at him. "No, it's ok. Now you can make love to me a little." She pressed a breathy kiss to his lips and licked into his mouth. He returned her motions and brought his tongue into play. She gasped a little into it when he tried to follow her lead, to play. "That feels good Harry. Will you kiss my neck?" He tried to do the things she'd done to him. He thought he might be a quick study at this too when the feline purrs she let out woke his dick up again. He was moving down to the boundary her dress created when she turned around abruptly.

"Oh, sorry. Did I do something wrong?" He thought he'd figured out how to do something right.

"No, no, it's good. Just, I love that. You just need to take off my dress. So you can, um, my nipples."

"Fuck." He said and laid his head on her shoulders while she giggled.

"Not yet, in a little while. Go on Harry. Take it off. Touch my neck like you did in the shop." She leaned her head over and he kissed the pretty pink tinged flesh there until it was red and undid her zipper.

He'd known she was beautiful, but the chrysalis shedding of the dress falling from her body, revealing all of her to him, transformed him too. Into a man.

He'd thought he was one, wanted the responsibilities of one, to take care of this woman, but he wasn't one, until she turned to him and the moonlight turned her skin silver and her nipples pewter. He felt like a golden band.

Out of curiousity, he ran a finger around the pink tip and pulled it back abruptly when she jolted and gasped. "Sorry!"

"Oh no, do it again. Please." Her head lolled back and he used one hand to draw the shrinking circle around her nipple again. He used the other to catch her neck where it was weakening and pulled her to him. He needed her mouth against him again. His hand found the overflowing flesh beyond her nipple and they both shivered. He caressed her until he was holding her up.

"Harry, sit on the bed." He'd sit on a cliff if she asked. He knew she didn't know everything, but she certainly seemed to have more hands on knowledge than him. Though he knew the mechanics, his dad had given him books, plural, at 10. He'd wanked to a few images at 12, then Jillian after long nights at 13, this was a wet dream come true. But still, "how do you know," he trailed off, "all this stuff?"

She sat astride him and smiled when she felt him hard against her again. "See, no problems," And they were kissing again and she was rubbing against him and he had her tits in his hands again, and oh god.

He'd said that out loud.

"Here." She climbed up him and rested her hands on his shoulders so her breast were at mouth level. He looked up after he'd gotten dizzy looking at her perfection so he wouldn't fall to the floor. "I, I don't know a lot. But I know you." She rubbed the soft yielding flesh over his face. His mouth watered. "And I know what I do. You can maybe do more. Kiss them, maybe suck too." She suggested and then the soft flesh ripened against his tongue, sweet like summer strawberries and he was sucking to try to get the sugar.

"Oh Harry!" And she was riding him and he was afraid he was gonna come again. He clutched her hips and stopped her.

"I can't." He shook his head. What the fuck? He'd never, god, this was. And she said she loved him. He could come thinking about it. He'd better not think about it. "It's too good."

"Ok, ok. Will you touch me?"

"I am." He didn't really follow.

"No, will you touch me.....there." She held his shoulders and leaned back.

"I don't, I don't know how."

"I'll tell you." She leaned back and drew his hand down the soft lines of her belly to her crux. She slide two of his fingers down to a well of wetness, her opening, wetting his fingers with her dew, and then up to the hard knot and inch or so above. "Rub there, like this." She moved his fingers in circles until he didn't need help anymore and he watched her face while her mouth fell open and she panted. She was squirming hard and he had to wrap an arm around her and clutch her other hip for fear she would fall. "Ah, ah, ah, Harry!" She shook out and he felt wetness trickle over his knuckles.

"Wow." His chest moved heavily up and down.

"Yeah, Wow." She slid his fingers through her wetness again and pressed one long digit into her opening. He slid it in and the thought of it around his dick. "Jilly!"

Uh oh- she hated that. Except, her moan said she didn't. She moved up and down his finger until his hand was sodden, asked for "two!" Breathlessly after a bit. He added the third without being told.

He was bewitched, bothered, and beholden when she got off his lap and his fingers. He would have followed her anywhere, to Gomorrah and beyond.

"Cmon Harry. She sat on the edge of the mattress, the little twin bed they'd shared many times, and pulled his boxers off. He stepped out of them and she wiped him off before throwing them somewhere behind him. She reclined on the bed and turned the hand she held up, so their fingers slotted together.

"I heard it's easier this way." Heard where? He would have asked, but the moonlight showed him parts of her he'd only just touched and Stole his tongue. She spread her thighs. There seemed to be nowhere else for him to go but between them.

He'd thought she felt hot through his boxers. He was burning up pressed against her wetness now. God, he might actually catch on fire.

"Um?" He asked and she shrugged before reaching down between them and pointing his tip down where his fingers had lately been. He pushed, but only felt resistance and none of the wetness from before.

He got a hand around himself and looked between them. "Fuck." He said again. He had no idea where his manners were. Maybe manners didn't belong in the bedroom. The problem seemed to be the fleshy lips around where he needed to be. "Um can you, can you open it up?"

"Yeah, I think so." She reached down and he said "oh my god" when he saw the dark pink within. Who knew that's how pretty She could be? He pressed forward. This time, there was resistance, but the warmth enveloped his tip and then gave over the ridge making a little popping sound. "Oh my god!" His vocabulary had also left him. He cried out and stopped.

Jillian squirmed beneath him, and the tips of her breast rubbed his chest, and could you close your eyes to sensation? "No, no, don't stop." She wrapped her legs around him and pushed with her heels until he came to a resting place.

"Fuck, holy fuck Jilly."

She squirmed again, smiled.

"You ok? Hurt?"

"No, not, not really, it's just a lot of pressure." She winced a bit. "Can you move."

He knew he could, but he wasn't sure what would happen if he did. "You're sure?" Though it seemed late to ask, already all the way interlocked with her. "I love you, Jillian." He swore.

"Me too, it shouldn't be anybody but you. I can only be me with you." She pushed on his hips with her heels a bit and moved her hips away. And he was sure this was everything. It couldn't be anybody but her. Ever.

He pulled back and thrust in, and then was overcome by the feeling and kept pushing and pulling until it was coming again.

"Oh god Jilly!" The feeling, god the feeling. Nothing had ever felt better in his life than this.

"Harry!" She sighed and wrapped her arms tighter, legs too. He knew he was being louder than he ought to be, but he couldn't stop. Then his vision whited out, way worse than the blur without his glasses. When he shuddered to a stop he simply collapsed on her, into her.

He lay there until he realized how heavy he must be and felt damp on his neck where her face was buried. He was so sweaty. Poor Jilly.

"Sorry, I'm so big." He lay on his side next to her and curled an arm around her midriff.

"Well, I don't have much to compare you to, but I'd say you're alright." And she made that sweet sound that was home to him.

He blushed, which was strange to happen now. His hand was moving lazily over her soft tummy skin and he was so happy. They were together. "Love you Jilly." He murmured as he drifted off without his own permission.

He vaguely remembered her kissing his forehead and her hair a halo in blue morning light.

"What time's it?" He mumbled.

"Early, still. I need the bathroom. Go back to sleep."

"Ok." He rolled into his pillow. The late night and dreams coming true made his eyes and body heavy.

He woke up to blazing sun, and thought he should be warm. But even his tiny bed was cold without her presence.

She wasn't making tea in the kitchen, or at the Dairy Barn that evening.

Sandra was pissed she'd missed her shift.

He wondered if he'd hurt her, or something. Maybe he'd said he loved her too many times. He'd not thought to keep a balance sheet. Did he say it more than her?

When he still hadn't seen her by Monday morning at school, and heard all the talk in gym about her going all the way with Will, he was worried. She known the rumor mill would be turning her to dust. Maybe she was just avoiding it. But they were so close to the end. A couple weeks was all. He was so worried.

For her, not just for the grief he'd feel as he got his heart's desire to lose it so soon. He finally did what had to be done and left school at lunch. He'd never ditched, but it didn't matter now.

He drove out to her house, and saw that semi familiar car again.

Dick answered the door.

"Um, is Jillian home?"

The man screwed up his grimy brow, and even at this time he reeked of beer, from last night or the hours since breakfast. "Nah, she took off. Took her mom's stash and suitcase. Little bitch." He scratched his rounded belly. "We figured she's with you."

"No, um no sir, she's not with me." Where was she?

"Too bad, must be that rich kid, Will then. Ain't that just like a woman?" His smile was sharp around the edges, and wide to his canine teeth.

The comment was meant to cut him. He was already aching too much to notice.

Harry knew she wasn't with Will.

He might have nodded, or mumbled on his way back to the truck.

It wasn't until he got home he let himself really think it.

Jillian was gone.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #summer’s child #angel of the morning pt 2 #chapter 6 #editted a week ago- hopefully still good!!

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the-quiet-winds · 5 years

Text

Winter Can’t Hold Back the Spring

“You’re allowed to be human, Parr.”

“That’s dumb,” Catherine giggles. “Of course I can be human! But why would I want to be?”

Anna raises an eyebrow. “What is going on with you?”

“Me?” Catherine repeats, an incredulous laugh in the single word. “Nothing! You’re the one being weird!”

“Okay,” Anna takes a step back. “Now you’re scaring me.”

“I do that sometimes,” Parr says deliriously.

With that, Anna exits the room and, with a shake of her head, makes her way down the stairs to the kitchen.

It’s quiet. Eerily so.

Anne was on holiday in France, and Aragon, Jane, and Katherine were all out for the day at some museum exhibit, leaving Anna and Parr alone.

Anna and Parr were never alone together. This was uncharted territory.

And something was wrong with Parr, too.

She heads back upstairs with two mugs, one of tea and one of coffee, and knocks softly on Parr’s door.

Catherine opens it, smiling brightly, still slightly deliriously.

“Anna! Come in,” she says, and Anna is taken aback. She’s never been invited in Parr’s study, really only Katherine was allowed in, and sometimes Jane or Aragon, and her original plan was to just coax Cath out and down to join her on the couch.

But then, there she is, sitting cross-legged on Cath’s bed, sipping her coffee as Catherine furiously types at her computer, barely drinking the tea that Anna had prepared for her.

“Catherine?” Anna asks softly.

“Not now.”

Once again, Anna is taken aback. The giggly, slightly-stupid Catherine who had invited her in is gone, replaced by obsessed-with-her-work-like-always Parr.

Oh.

“Catherine.”

“Not now!”

“Catherine!”

“God, will you shut up?” Catherine whirls around in her chair to face Anna. “I invite you in here and you won’t let me do my work! What’s with that?”

Anna looks at her, hurt and nearly frightened by the outburst. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on with you,” she admits in a small voice, one that doesn’t sound anything like Anna at all.

“The only thing wrong with me is that somebody won’t let me do my work!”

“That’s not true,” Anna challenges. “Something else is going on here.”

“What do you know?” Catherine counters, but there is far less accusation in her words now, like someone had taken a bucket of water to the bonfire in her chest.

“I know you, Cathy,” Anna says, “I know how you like your tea and how you hate being bored and not having work, and-” she cuts off at feeling a bump on her arm. She looks down and smiles at the tabby cat begging for attention. She gives him a scratch behind the ear and smirks at Catherine. “He agrees with me. Something is up with you.”

As if to prove her point, Argyle gives a soft yowl. Then he darts from under Anna’s hand over to the window to play with the curtains.

They sway at the mercy of his tiny kitty claws, and the escaping sunlight illuminate the dark circles under Catherine’s eyes.

“Catherine,” Anna says quietly, “when was the last time you slept?”

That catches Parr’s attention, and she turns down to look at her knees.

“Cathy,” Anna says again. She moves to in front of Catherine on the floor, trying to catch her eyes.

“Tuesday,” Catherine finally mumbles out.

“It’s Thursday,” Anna says, concerned.

Those two, tiny words are all it takes for Catherine to shatter. Tears, tears she can’t control, stream down her face as she tries to hide behind a hand, while the other just clings to the arm of the chair.

“Hey,” Anna interjects softly, putting a hand on Catherine’s knee. “It’s okay.” She moves her hand to cover Catherine’s, gripping the arm of her desk chair like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“I have to finish-”

“It can wait,” Anna promises.

“No,” Catherine protests. She pulls away to continue working, even through her tears. She types furiously, almost as if there was a word count she had to meet or she would never be able to write again.

Words, Anna decides, not failing to see the irony, are lost on the writer.

So she takes more drastic measures.

With a deep breath, she grabs the back of Catherine’s chair and rolls it away from the desk. She hits save on the document Parr was writing, closed her laptop, and blocked her from accessing it.

“You need to sleep, Catherine,” Anna says firmly, yet with concern. “There’s still plenty of time before we have to go to the theater.”

“It’s for Jane.”

Anna tilts her head slightly so Catherine continues. “It’s about Edward.” There are tears in her eyes again. “She’s been missing him lately… I’ve been working on something about him.”

“It’ll be there later,” Anna reminds her, “but you need to be in an alright state of mind to tell that story right.”

Catherine meets her eyes, and there’s that wisdom that Anna had yet to see. “You’re right,” she admits.

Anna cracks a smirk. “What did you say?” She teased. “Did you say I’m right?” She softens when Catherine yawns, and extends a hand. “Come on, sleepy bones. Bed time.”

“Stay with me?”

The plea was soft, barely coherent as Anna led Catherine to bed, but Anna had nodded.

“Of course.”

When Jane, Aragon, and Katherine return from the museum hours later, they had half-expected to find Anna on the couch, maybe even Parr.

But there was stillness, silence.

“They didn’t leave, did they?” Aragon asks quietly.

Jane spots Argyle on the stairs, and he leads her up to Catherine’s room.

The door is cracked open, and Jane can just make out Parr curled up, head on Anna’s shoulder, as the latter holds her, both dead asleep.

Argyle squeezes through the crack and leaps onto the bed to lay on Anna’s stomach.

Jane lets them sleep.

When Anna blinks awake only a little while after to hear the dim noises of the other queens downstairs, the feels a weight on her stomach and on her shoulder.

Catherine smiles in her sleep, just so, and Argyle’s ears are flat against his head.

“Guess I’m good at this whole sleep-holding thing,” she chuckles softly to herself, then brings her free arm behind her head to stare at the ceiling.

She wouldn’t dream of moving from that position until she absolutely has to wake Catherine, so that is exactly where they stay.

And Anna wouldn’t have it any other way.

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tag list: @percabeth15 @kats-seymour @qualquercoisa945 @jane-fucking-seymour @a-slightly-cracked-egg @justqueentingz @annabanana2401 @wolfies-chew-toy @broad-way-13 @tvandmusicals @lailaliquorice @aimieallenatkinson @sweet-child-why03 @gaylinda-of-the-upper-uplands @funky-lesbians @thinkaboutitmaybe @hansholbeingoesaroundzeworld @anaamess @beeskneeshuh @prick-up-ur-ears @theartoflazy @justqueentwo @brother-orion @paleshadowofadragon @lafemmestars @beautifulashes17 @jarneiarichardnxel @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff @ladiez-in-waiting @mixer1323 @boleynssixthfinger @aimieallen @elphiesdance @boleynthebunny @krystalhuntress @lupin-loves-chocolate @bellacardoza16 @bluify @katherines-choker

#six the musical #six musical #anne of cleves #catherine parr #julie writes #winter can't hold back the spring #cath is me when i'm severely sleep deprived

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wereallsaloonaticshere · 5 years

Text

Don’t think about the last lines too much.

Eddsworld; fanfic, Ship; EddTom AU; highschool

Description; Edd gets annoyed by people not thinking brown eyes are the shit. (which they are).

Word count: 1,538

“Oh, you’re eyes are like a drop of lovely water in an infinite ocean!” He said, leaning on the locker beside her, pushing a strand of her long blonde hair behind her ear

“Oh, haha!” She giggled, fiddling with the bracelets that ran up her arm.

“Ugh.” Edd said, quietly to himself, “How cringy can you get?”

“What?” Tom asked

“Them!” He gestured over to the two love-birds, “Could they be anymore clique?” He shut his locker a bit harder than he usually did.

“What, are you heterophobic, Edd?” Tom said, referencing something they overheard in the halls the day before, “You’re heterophobia isn’t very nice, Edd.”

“Shut your fuck up!” Edd laughed, then got quiet as they both shuffled awkwardly past a teacher, hoping they didn’t hear them.

“You are. Oh my-I can’t believe it.” Edd laughed at the face Tom made when he said it, one of mock betrayal, and punched him in the arm. “You think you know somebody.”

“No, but really.” Edd said, pushing open the cafeteria doors, “He said she had ‘blue eyes like on ocean’? Who actually says that anymore?”

“A couple liking each other’s eyes. They should be hunted for sport.” Tom said, which treated him to another punch in the arm.

“It’s just so overused! Aren’t you, like, an aspiring song writer or something? Shouldn’t this tick you off more than me?” Edd said, then waved hello to Matt as he slung his backpack onto the table and flopped down into the chair.

“No because why the fuck would I give a shit?” Tom asked, taking out his pen and notebook.

“What are you guys talking about?” Matt asked, mouth full of burger

“Edd’s turning emo.” Tom said

“Welcome.” Matt said

“No I’m not, fuckwad!”

“You hate love though.”

“I HATE that blue eyes are the only colored eyes that get compared to stuff! You don’t know what it’s...” Edd trailed off, then turned toward Matt, “you don’t know what it’s like having brown eyes!”

“But your eyes are just as beautiful as anyone else’s, and I could compare them to anything if I applied myself.” Matt said, rolling his eyes.

“Easy for you to say; your eyes are like a fucking renaissance painting.” Edd huffed. “There are swirls of blue and green and-fuck! Even fucking yellow!” He squinted his eyes, “You couldn’t even begin to fathom what it’s like having one flat layer of brown.”

“...” Matt sat staring in awe. “Edd...you realize that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, ever, right?”

“Lowkey gay.” Tom muttered, and crossed his arms, slouching over the table and stuffing a half-eaten snickers bar from earlier into his mouth.

“...” Edd’s cheeks turned pinkish. “No, I didn’t...I just wish I could have cooler eyes, is all. Don’t over think it.”

“You already have cool eyes, dumbshit.” Matt said

“Fuckin’ lair.” Edd laughed, “But thanks I guess.”

“Hey, Tom,” Matt said when he noticed Tom wasn’t writing in his notebook like he usually did, “what’s up? Want my kit-kat?”

“What are you saying? Of course he does.” Edd teases, seeing as Tom’s been gaining just a tad bit of weight

“You know what? Fuck all of you.” Tom stood up, grabbed his stuff, and left the table.

“...What’s got him so pissed?” Matt asked

“What are you talking about?” Edd joked and scratched at his hairline, “That’s classic Tom.”

“I guess...hey are you going to eat lunch today or what?”

“Oh yeah.” Edd glanced at the lunch line, which now wrapped around the entire cafeteria. “I think I’ll wait a little longer.”

“...I still think Tom might be upset about something. Can you talk to him in calc for me?”

“Sure.” Edd said, doodling a penis in the corner of the table, chuckling, then erased it, “Hey, speaking of calc, can you do my homework for me?”

“Nah, dude, I hate math and I just got done finishing the test last period. My brain is fried.”

“Ugh. Well, guess I’ll fail.” Edd shrugs with the confidence of somebody who knows how to cheat.

“Truly an inspiring story of determination.”

“Hey, Tom-” Edd asked, once they were able to pair up for review before the test, “Wanna be my partner?”

“Um...” Tom scratched his neck and looked around the room. “Sure. You’re the only person here I don’t hate.”

“Cool.” They both sat down at a table.

“So should we review the first part first, or should we-”

“Why’d you freak out at lunch?”

Tom sighed.

“It just started to bother me, is all.” He said

“What did?”

“You straight up were flirting with Matthew!” Tom said, a bit too loudly. He looks around the room to see if anyone heard. “I mean, how can someone’s eyes even look like a renaissance painting? How’s that possible?”

“I just said it! I didn’t comprehend it!” Edd defended

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know!” Edd said, “What does it even matter?”

“...” Tom frowned, “Just...shut up about it.”

“Shut up about what, Tom?” Edd crossed his arms, “Tell me before the teacher crawls up our ass about not studying.”

“...I’ll talk to you later about it, okay.”

“I already waited until the end of lunch-”

“Teacher, can I switch partners?” Tom asked, avoiding Edd’s suddenly confused stare.

“Um.” The teacher looked between the two. “Sure, I guess.”

“Thanks.” Tom said, and walked to another group.

“You can study with Jon.” Teacher said to Edd, and the two studied together, with Edd occasionally looking over his shoulder to see if Tom was looking his way, though he never was.

Tom rushed through the double doors, trying to get lost in the sea of people, but Edd could spot his spiky hair a mile away.

“Tom!” Edd shouted, and he grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face him. “What’s gotten into you, man? First you-” Sensing no out, Tom speaks up.

“Can we talk somewhere a bit more private?” He asked, as a few people gave them weird looks as they passed by.

“Um, sure.” Edd said, still holding his arm, and they walked towards a dead tree that was cut down years before. They sit under it, and Edd finally let go.

Tom rubs his face and shakes his head a little, “Just...I didn’t like how you talked to Matt, that’s all.”

“Why?” Edd asked

“It just made me feel weird, I dunno.” When Edd gave Tom a weird stare, he added, “Matt isn’t that pretty.”

“...So, what, you want me to compliment your....you?” Edd said, dancing around the what he was originally going to say.

“No!” Tom blushed, then coughed, “No. Just...it’s weird.”

“...Right.” Edd put his hand over Tom’s, “You can tell me what’s really up.”

“...I just wish you’d say something nice about me, that’s all.” Tom mumbles.

“What?”

“Say something nice about me sometimes, I say nice shit about you.”

“Really? When?”

“All the time!”

“To who?”

“Well, maybe I just think it, is that so bad?”

“...Wait,” Edd thought, “So you think nice things about me a lot?”

“No! Yes. I...” Tom rubbed his face again, causing some of his hair gel to flake out onto his hands and the knees of his ripped black pants. “I don’t know, man. It just happens.”

“...Dude, do you have a crush on me?” Edd asked, then quickly added, “It’s fine if you do! Cute girls, cute guys, it’s both whatever.”

“I...you’re just really...nice and understanding and...” Tom squints at a root growing in front of him, “wait, you think I’m cute?”

“...” Edd self-reflects. He didn’t see Tom as unattractive, no. Thick eyebrows, black studs lining his ears, like a sort of goth-punk hybrid. He was sweet to his friends, funny in a lol so random xd sorta way, and would probably fight anyone if Edd told him they had dissed him. He also had this glow about him if he was talking about his favorite bands, or a piece of music he just learned, and his smile would seem so all-encompassing that it would seize your gaze by the throat.

Kind of like what it was doing now.

“Do you think I’m cute?” Tom asked, and began to shake Edd’s shoulders as a joke, rocking his body back of fourth.

“Tom, dude, shut up-”

“Oh my God you do!” Tom slowed down then. “That’s...crazy man.” He rubbed his neck, “Thanks for calling me cute.”

“Thanks for being jealous of me, I guess.”

“Haha...you’re cute too. But not as cute as Billie Joe Armstrong.” Tom added to compensate for the blush running up his neck.

“Well, of course,” Edd rolled his eyes, “I don’t think that’s even possible.”

Tom laughed, then told Edd about the fanfiction he was writing about Shrek, and even though Edd purposefully zoned out because no matter how punk rock Tom was, he didn’t want to hear about his Shrek x Sonic the hedgehog fanfic, he felt the smile radiating off him. Edd smiled too.

#i dont think this is one of my best #but its still good #also my first hs au rad #shipsworld #eddtom #hs au #fanfic #stuff i made #fanfiction #that ending was so lame lol i apologize #you all shouldnt have had to read that lol

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exobyharu · 5 years

Text

PCY - Ch5

Chapter 5 - All about you

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)...(Part 6)

Summary: PCY does not expect to see you again. Ever. Except in less than twelve hours, he’s about to, once again. This time, he admits that he deserves a punch in the face.

⏰ 9:09 AM 🌏 Hotel (S), City of (L) 🌞 It’s sunny but everyone’s too out of it to actually care 👥 YN, Park Chanyeol, Kim Junmyeon, Byun Baekhyun, EXO’s manager (mentioned)

Notes: After a decade, I am finally back! My biggest apologies for taking forever. I tried to make this one a bit longer than usual. Expect more regular updates! I’m sorry that PCY swears a bit here too.

Words: ~2,300

💙💙💙

Twenty-one missed calls and twelve text messages on his personal phone, all from Junmyeon: they were ominous tells that Chanyeol ought to postpone his scheduled return to the studio. Just when he finally saw the wisdom in what at first seemed like punishment by isolation, his plans of returning with news of a productive break were dashed the moment he woke up to his work phone vibrating to another message, this time, from EXO’s manager.

“Who is the girl?”

The question needed no further elucidation.

Just leave her alone, Chanyeol thought, and then he groaned, pressing his face against his pillow because he was never going to see you again, anyway. What’s all the fuss about?

It was nine in the morning, and four hours of sleep seemed inadequate, considering that he had spent at least an hour packing that evening, and the rest of the night, taking advantage of the unexpected surge of inspiration that had finally come after weeks of uninspired efforts.

He was certain that this song finally had all the missing elements that the writers at SM always complained about. He, himself, was amazed by how smoothly he had managed to put something together at three in the morning, too. Still, this was the song they had always wanted from him and he was five hundred percent sure about it.

It turned out that he just needed to quit being frustratedly self-absorbed and instead, see everything in the eyes of someone else. When he did, the landscape shifted and ideas flowed in. You were the one who made this possible for him. You made him realise that it was probably more sensible to derive inspiration from what was out there, rather than generating egocentric works that other people hardly related to.

A tremendously simple concept. How had he not even considered this?

There was something about how you were able to read into his skilfully-concealed ego problems and this made him even more self-aware. It was one thing to hear it from his friends, and for that, he had been careful ever since. He was confident with the control he had on his narcissistic tendencies. But hearing it from you, who had just met him, made you an unforgettably helpful clairvoyant.

“I think that’s how you can reach out to more audiences,” you told him last night, gingerly munching on a biscotti and possibly, launching an underhanded attack on his ego. “Stop writing about yourself. Write about what’s out there.”

“Like what?” he asked you, burning with so much eagerness that you probably felt the intensity of his stare. Stop writing about yourself. That was a headshot.

“Hmm… Well, let’s see…” you trailed off, swiping through his phone, and scanning the lengthy compilation of his serially rejected compositions. You may as well be a speed reader, seeing how you had managed to reach the end of it so quickly. That was another detail that he forgot to ask you about last night. He will never know then.

“I’m sure this will sound great when I listen to it later, but like I said, it seems that this whole thing is about having a good time,” you explained, stealing a quick glance at the way he kept his fidgety fingers tightly interlocked on the table. Chanyeol caught that and made sure to keep the signs of his bubbling anxiety in check.

Just listen, he had to remind himself. What are you being so nervous about?

“Look, I’m no writer, but if you really want to write a love song, the feelings that I want to get need to be more dynamic than what all of this gives me.”

Operational word: dynamic. Again, the point was that he lacked experience and hearing about it was getting old. He leaned in closer for emphasis – also to make sure that he did not raise his voice in frustration. “You want me to write about things I don’t know?”

You shrugged, showing him the same easygoing attitude as if the idea was naturally forthcoming at the very least. “You can always write about wanting to know instead. You know, how you would rather, or think it would be? After all, people tend to yearn for things they don’t have. It’s one that we all have in common, in my opinion. It’s a universal feeling that’s relatable.”

Longing, huh?

Was it a simple insight? It seemed more like your current state of mind that slipped through. He needed you to voice out more fragments from your internal monologue to confirm his suspicion, but you did not give him that. You scrunched up your nose instead. “Not everyone dreams of a fancy car and a supermodel for a girlfriend, Chanyeol.”

Your comment made him uncross his legs. “Yah! Quit judging my life already, will you?“ At the same time, his knee hit the underside of the table. You were both startled as everything on it shook. Tall people problems. He could not seem to switch off his klutzy side when it mattered most. It made you giggle to see some of his coffee splash onto the screen of his phone. “And I’m not attracted to female supermodels!”

Growing unfazed by his usually exaggerated responses, you raised a speculative brow. “Let me guess… But female supermodels are attracted to you?”

Chanyeol flashed a lopsided grin on purpose. “I do have a mostly-female fanbase, so I can’t say for sure that–”

“Again! My main point, sir,” you interrupted, with a playful roll of your eyes. “If you wanna add to your influence, write about other things.” He almost thought that you were really going to poke his nose with your finger. He guessed that it was just your snarky side showing itself. “Be proactive and do some research by listening to other people too. I’m sure you’ll find more feelings to write about.”

Hence, that night marked the beginning of a more dynamic Park Chanyeol, who would create art and music that may deviate from the typical industrial material he felt that he had pretty much exhausted already. Creation was his passion and he had you to thank for making him realise how he had boxed himself up too much because he was afraid to express his own vulnerability, which, ought to be the point in the first place.

This was why EXO’s main rapper wrote a fucking ballad. And it was a ballad that he could not even sing. But he wrote it and it did not matter to him who sang it. He would rather have someone else do it justice. All that mattered to him was that the song made it through. He wanted to reach out to people, and strangely, it mattered to him that you heard it too. He wanted you to hear your words played on the radio someday, knowing well that you were part of the creative process. You, that girl whose shitty day he tried to turn around, and whose underlying melancholic disposition he wished to uplift but cannot.

Will you ever find what you were looking for? Will your family ever understand you? Were you really unemployed? Or was it something you chose to say so he would stop asking questions already?

He will never find out because he will never see you again. That said, SM just spent wasteful money on hiring somebody to tail him while he was away. What was all the fretting about? Junmyeon was probably going supernova over nothing of substance and their manager had to be getting drunk on his trust issues again. Both of his phones were ringing simultaneously now, and he was about three rings away from answering one and tossing the other across the room.

Junmyeon or Baekhyun? Choose your own adventure, he thought, rolling to his side and sighing as he wearily brought both of his phones close to his face. Probably for the first and only time ever, he chose Baekhyun.

“PARK CHANYEOL!”

Eyes wide and mouth in a frenzied snarl – there had to be no other look on Junmyeon who was now yelling at the other end of the line. Chanyeol was not even surprised to know that it was him using Baekhyun’s phone. It was Junmyeon or Junmyeon. There was no choice in the first place. He half expected the possibility, and just like that, his day was shot. He rose from his bed and pulled out the curtains to see the rest of the city going about its business.

A kajillion other people with stories to write about, he remembered you say. Your voice resonated from somewhere in his head, effectively drowning out the endless buzzing of the phone he held at least a foot away from his ear. When Junmyeon had calmed down, Chanyeol finally started listening in.

“… and since you would not answer their calls, everyone’s expecting me to offer an explanation. They won’t stop pestering me and I would be in a much better mood if I did not have more urgent things to do. Listen, I don’t care wha–”

“I was asleep, okay?” he interrupted, dragging his voice and feeling the weight of exasperation on his tongue. “You can send all those calls to me now. Thank you for taking shit for me.”

“Yah! Don’t hang up!”

“Then how am I supposed to talk to them?!” Chanyeol barked. It was his first instinct, knowing well that the last time he got yelled at like this was when he was falsely accused of spreading their unreleased material online. Surely, how he chose to spend last night was not as much of a mortal sin as a breach of their contract. Because just now, Junmyeon sounded like it was much worse than that.

“Forget it. We’ve dealt with the reporters.”

Reporters? The rapper’s pulse ran cold as he instantly froze where he stood.

“We just need to get you out of there with your security detail. The staff is arranging–”

“Yah! Hold up!” Chanyeol heard the nervous rasp in his voice as panic slowly claimed the frustration that initially controlled him. “What do you mean? Why are there reporters involved?”

“Of course there are reporters involved!” Junmyeon howled. “When you go out on a date looking as you are, Mister Park Chanyeol, with a girl who received ten dozens of roses from you, OF COURSE people will take pictures and talk!”

Chanyeol’s fist flew out, punching the air in front of him. “The he- …How do you guys even know this?!”

“You mean how does social media know about this? It’s all over the internet, Chanyeol. Check your phone! Check GTN27! Wake the fuck up!”

“I am awake! And I am checking my phone now!” he went, nervously fumbling for the other phone that had finally stopped ringing. His fingers trembled, not even able to key in his password properly. It sent his mind reeling, not sure about how much he wanted to find out. Did they discover who you were? Were fans stalking you already? And the media? Were you even safe? The mere fact that they knew he sent you flowers meant that they knew your room number.

“Look, I’m sure it’s not what you think. YN would not–”

“We know,” Junmyeon’s tone was abruptly much kinder and Chanyeol knew that this was because there was finally someone else with him, wherever he was. There were people, in fact. He must have stepped out of a room or something. The rapper was relieved that all the yelling was finally over, at least for now. “Listen, YN YLN? We know she’s not responsible, okay?”

“You–” he choked out, eyes wide and tilting back as the realisation finally hit him. “She’s with you?!”

The immediate response that he got was the voice of Baekhyun, distinct in the background. He was asking for his phone. A second later, Chanyeol heard a whine that was cut off by the sound of a door slamming shut. There was complete silence once again.

“Yeah. We found her before those undercover reporters at the hotel lobby did. You can thank the staff later,” Junmyeon said, his stern voice echoing through what seemed like their empty dance studio.

“Is she okay?!” Chanyeol exclaimed, his eyebrow twitching as he attempted to hold back his emotions – whatever it was that he was feeling. Anger? Worry? Extreme impatience? “Let me talk to her!”

“She’s with the staff.” Junmyeon was dismissive and it was clear that the guy was not going to let him talk to you. “People on the internet dubbed her Biscotti Girl and she hated it. That’s why she gave us her real name. She would not say anything more after that.”

Biscotti Girl? More than the ridiculous nickname, Chanyeol found himself closing his eyes and smiling in relief because it seemed that your identity was not revealed. It was all that he could ask for at the moment. The rest, he could deal with much later. This was all his fault any way.

“Don’t worry about her. I made sure she’s comfortable. Right now, we’re working on getting you here as soon as possible.”

Right. It was difficult to see sometimes, but Junmyeon was on his side. He had always been. “Now, I’ll quit it with all this leader bullshit. As your brother, is there something you’d like to tell me?”

Other than dumb excuses? Chanyeol did not think so.

“I’ll explain everything to you when I get there, hyung,”

His voice was even, but his mind was racing decathlons for possible explanations that provided you the easiest way out of this predicament. If the entire company had his back no matter what mess he got himself into, he wanted to make sure that you at least had him. It had come to this, after all. He can only imagine how much trouble he’d caused you. So much for writing a song to make you feel better. The song was not even enough to save him this time.

Chanyeol pressed his forehead against the window and groaned.

You. Fucking. Genius.

💙💙💙 - to be continued -

#chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #park chanyeol scenarios #exo fanfiction #kpop scenarios

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katymacsupernatural · 5 years

Text

A New Life Chapter 31: Bus Ride

Dean Winchester x Reader

1200 Words

Story Summary: You’re a Demon who is trying to erase all the bad you’ve done, by helping the Winchesters. But the price to be good can be too much, even for a crossroads demon.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

The light was blinding, cutting off everything else in your vision. You tried covering your eyes, but the light still filled your gaze, even in the dark.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" Some man asked you while you struggled, a hint of authority in his voice.

Finally getting adjusted to the bright light, you slowly removed your hand from your eyes, glancing around in surprise at the man attempting to help you. He was wearing a dark blue uniform, a badge pinned proudly to his chest. He had a slight dusting of scruff on his chin, his eyes were almost gray in color, and he was tall, at least taller than you.

"Ma'am?" He repeated because you still hadn't answered him. You looked around, the city sidewalk busy around you, with high skyscrapers slowly blocking out the sun that had moments ago blinded you.

"Where am I?" You whispered, having no recollection of what you were doing on that street. The more you thought about it, you had no recollection of who you were or anything else about you.

"You're in Denver Ma'am. Is there somebody I can call to help you?" He asked, pulling a phone out of his pocket.

You thought hard, trying to come up with anything at all that might help you remember, but you couldn't. Your mind was a blank slate, wiped clean. "No." You whispered, scared of what that meant for you.

He sighed, before putting his phone away. "Why don't you come with me, I can drop you at the hospital."

You recoiled from him, knowing you didn't want to go to a hospital, but having no idea why. He reached for you, and you did the first thing that came to mind. You ran, pushing through the crowd that was as thick as glue on the sidewalk, your feet pounding the pavement as you ran away from the cop who was just trying to help you. Not paying any attention to where you were going, you just moved, past shouting people, past honking cars. It didn't matter where, as long as it wasn't here.

Your heart pounding fast, you finally slowed, resting your hands on your knees. After catching your breath, you took stock of your surroundsings, immediately noticing a bus stop across the street. Something urged you to keep moving, and you reachedi nto your pockets, hoping there was cash inside.

You were in luck, there were a couple of crumpled twenties in your front pocket, along with an antique silver bracelet. You had a sudden aversion to the bracelet, wanting to keep it, but not wanting it on your body at all. Shoving it in your pocket, you crossed the street, looking up at the schedule. There were buses to California, Montana, anywhere you wanted to go. But one destination stood out like a sore thumb, and you knew you had to travel there. You might not know who you were, or anything, but you knew where your next step had to be.

Stepping into line, you quick purchased a ticket, grateful that your bus was leaving in fifteen minutes. It was already letting passengers load, and you climbed on, settling towards the back of the bus. Before long you heard the bus driver yelling last call before shutting the doors. It was fairly empty, an older couple up front, a young man sitting in the very last seat, and a couple of teenage girls giggling in the middle.

"One-way ride to Lebanon Kansas." The bus driver exclaimed, before pulling out onto the street. The dusk was settling, and you were in awe at the beautiful orange and blue sunset that was setting above the mountains. Turning east, the sunset was now at your back, and you watched as the city slowly faded away, turning into farms, then fields of corn, as far as you could see before the sky darkened enough that you couldn't see past the window.

As the bus rolled along the highway, you closed your eyes, urging yourself to remember something, anything that would help you figure out who you were, and what you had been doing in Denver. What you saw confused you, and you were sure it had to be from a movie or a tv show, or even a weird dream. Because there was no way you had been alive in the 1800s.

You finally fell asleep, the rocking of the train lulling you into a sense of comfort and security. Your sleep was broken by dreams, fragments of something you couldn't quite understand. Visions of an evil, dark place, a man with a British accent, filled your dreams. It was terrifying, and you woke, your body shivering as you tried to calm yourself down, knowing you wouldn't be able to sleep anymore on the ride.

An hour later, the bus pulled into Lebanon and you climbed off, grateful for the chance to stretch your legs. It was still pitch black outside, the only light coming from the streetlights bathing the empty street. Not knowing what else to do, you walked, taking in the sights, hoping something would look familiar.

After an hour, your feet were sore, as was your brain. Nothing was ringing a bell, and you were tired and hungry, but you didn't have enough money for a hotel room. In front of you was a bar, the open sign still flashing. With nowhere else to go, you pushed open the double doors, surprised at how busy the bar was at this time of night.

The bar itself was full, as were the tables lining the side of the dance floor. The dance floor was the only thing empty, most patrons were either drinking or playing pool at the back of the bar.

Taking quick stock of your money, you decided to splurge on a beer and a hamburger, even though you knew it would have been better to save your money. Sitting down at the bar, the bartender came over, a handsome young man.

"And what can I do for you, pretty lady?" He asked, leaning over the bar, his light blue eyes lighting up with interest.

"A hamburger and a beer please." You responded.

"Sure thing sweetheart." He answered, and as you waited for your food, you watched the other patrons, wanting to take your mind off of your problems.

There was a heated game of pool at the back, a group of college-aged men laughing and kidding each other as they racked the balls. The bar was filled with mainly men, each tuned into their drink, probably trying to relax after a long day at work. One man, in particular, caught your attention. He was at the end of the bar, bathed in shadows, a glass of whiskey sitting in front of him, his head in his hands.

It was then the bartender came back with your drink and food. Thanking him, you had to ask. "Who's that man at the end? He seems awfully sad."

The bartender looked down to where you were pointing. "Him? He's been in here every night for almost a month. Doesn't talk, but keeps a steady supply of whiskey in front of him."

Feeling inexplicably drawn to the man, you took what was left of your money, knowing it was a bad idea, but you did it anyway. Giving it to the bartender, you asked him to buy the man a beer, hoping to steer him away from the hard liquor.

"What kind?" The bartender asked, and you looked at the selection in front of you. Picking a unique one, you watched as the bartender delivered it, but nerves had you turning your head down, facing your food.

Here you were, no idea who you were, and you were hitting on strange men at the bar. Chastising yourself, you took a big bite of the burger just as a hand touched your shoulder, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

"Excuse me miss, are you the one who bought the beer for me? How did you know it was my favorite type?" A deep voice, like whiskey being poured, said from behind you. Looking up, you came into contact with the most gorgeous pair of green eyes you had ever seen, a pair that widened when they took in your appearance.

"Y/N?" He exclaimed, a lock of shock crossing his face, as you raised your eyebrow in confusion, wonder who this Y/N was.

Help a writer out! Reblog/comment to show your love!!

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @bebravekeeponfighting @brindz30 @cap-just-said-language @colette2537 @deansgirl215 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller @krys198478 @librarygeekery @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @ria132love @ruprecht0420 @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666

A New Life Tags: @biawol @earthtokace @gh0stgurl @heartsaved @imascio08 @edgaralllenpoop @fralackles @jordannicole56 @kiranagoya @librarygeekery @monkeymcpoopoo @moonstar86 @mypage-myfandoms @newtospnfandom @suckystoryteller @superlightalternateuniverse88 @thatcrazybookwormgeek @closetspngirl @daeshaunex2 @the-is13 @deathofmissjackson @sammysgirl1997 @megasimpleplan4ever

Forever Tags: @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @chelsea072498 @closetspngirl @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @esoltis280 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork @lowlyapprentice @maui137 @mogaruke @musiclovinchic93 @nanie5 @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25 @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek @thewinchesterchronicles @vvinch3st3r @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen

#a new life #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #katy writes #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean x reader #dean x y/n

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lilshoroscope · 6 years

Text

Hogwarts AU Part 5!

Hiya my darlings! Tis me, your slightly dysfunctional and extremely sleep deprived Queen fanfic writer! And I’m back with Part 5!

And yes, IT IS ANGSTY!!

(Lowkey proud of this, tho)

(Also writing this up when I should be doing my History assessment which is due tomorrow. If that doesn’t tell you anything about me, I’m sorry.)

Okayyyy!

Please, please, PLEASE like, reblog, and comment feedback. It means so much and I would love it if I could see what you guys thought!

Sorry if it’s short! As always, Audrey is based off my bestie. Love ya, babe.

Word Count: 934 words. Short, I know.

Warnings: Swearing, a shit ton of angst. BRING TISSUES!

Ask to be added to my taglist!

Audrey stalked into the airie, looking around as the countless owls flapped above her, resting on their perches, preening their feathers. She huffed, looking around for her own tawny owl- Mazzello. People always looked at her weirdly whenever she called his name, but she didn’t care.

‘Maz? I know you’re there!’ she called, looking upward into the cyclone of feathers. She felt a soft weight on her shoulder and a nip to her ear, signalling that her owl had heard her.

‘Heyy, Mazzello. Look, I need you to deliver a letter.’ She soothed, stroking his gingery feathers. He nipped her ear in response, bringing a smile to her face.

‘You named your owl Mazzello?’ a voice asked from behind her.

She spun around. An uncontrollable grin spreading across her features when she saw who it was.

‘Rog!’ she giggled, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear.

‘Hey, babe.’ He laughed, kissing her hair as he kissed her forehead as he stroked her owl.

‘Hey. And for your information- yes, I did name him Mazzello.’

‘WoW. So many things I don’t know about you, Audrey Hepburn.’

“You KNOW that’s not my name.’

‘Doesn’t mean I can’t call you that, though.’

‘Ha, ha, ha, Roggie.’ She huffed, stepping away from him, walking to the wide window in the airie. The window looked out over the wide lake that bordered Hogwarts. The sun glimmered on the smooth serface of the shimmering water, reflecting the tinted hues from the setting sun.

‘I mean it, Aud. There’s so many things I could call you..’ Roger replied, coming up behind her, admiring the stunning rays of light filtering in through the glass.

‘Like your girlfriend?’ she snapped, turning to face him.

‘What?’ he spluttered, taken aback.

‘You know what I mean. We’re dating, for fucks sake, Rog. Why can’t we go public with it?’ she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

He sighed, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

‘You know why, love. The boys…. They would only think I was using you. Brian thinks I’m still sleeping around, Freddie has enough on his plate and John…… He doesn’t know a thing about love. We’ve been over this, Aud. Why bring this up now?’

‘Because….. Melody came to me today and said that she and John have started to date, and then she said that I should go after YOU and ask YOU out, because I ‘OBVIOUSLY’ fancy you. And it took so much effort not to scream from the rooftops that you were MY BOYFRIEND!’ she blurted, abruptly spinning away from him.

He sighed, following her as she stalked to the other side of the tower.

‘Aud, I get that…’

‘No, No you don’t, Roger!’ she yelled, startling the sleeping owls. ‘We’ve been dating for THREE FUCKING MONTHS! Do you know what it FELT like to pretend that I’d never met you before when Mel introduced us last week? Why can’t you just say it, Rog? I’m sick of the hiding. I’m sick of the secrets. What are you so scared of?’ she cried, think tears falling from her chocolate brown eyes.

Roger sighed in defeat, frantically ripping his hands through his golden hair. ‘I’m not scared of anything.’

‘You are, Roggie. There’s something you’re not telling me!’ she replied, handing a white envelope to Mazzello’s beak.

‘I’m not.’

‘You are!’

‘I’m NOT!’

“You ARE! What are you so scared of, Roger?’ she yelled, making Roger wince.

‘I’M SCARED OF LOSING YOU!’ he yelled back at her, his voice breaking as he fought the lump forming in his throat.

‘W-what?’ Audrey whispered, her velvet eyes clouded with grief.

‘I don’t wanna tell anyone because that means its official. It means that I could lose somebody I care about even more. I can’t explain it. Don’t ask me to, Aud.’

Audrey shook her head, grabbing her satchel and storming to the door, her thick midnight black hair streaming behind her back. ‘I get that, Rog. But until you’re ready to take us public, whatever this is, it’s over.’

She ran down the stairs, her choked sobs echoing through the deserted tower. Roger stood there, the empty silence filling his ears.

He let out a scream, howling as he sunk down to the floor, covering his face with his hands as he sobbed on his knees, not caring who saw him. After what seemed like an eternity he got up, scrubbing at his puffy eyes with his hands. His ran his hands through his hair, standing in the middle of the room, the only sounds in the darkening, empty chamber being his laboured breathing. What would he do now? From what he knew, Audrey had just broken up with him. HIS Audrey.

He walked down the stairs, as if in a daze. The one girl he had actually like, the ONE FUCKING GIRL he loved. Was that the word? The proper word to describe this feeling of emptiness, of sadness that felt like a literal blade had been driven into his chest? Love?

Roger Meddows Taylor did not do ‘love’. He was a playboy, seeing multiple girls at multiple times. He didn’t believe in love. Not until Audrey. Not until Audrey Skyfall.

Roger Meddows Taylor didn’t believe in love.

Until he was in love.

With her.

Ask to be added to my taglist!

@onceuponadetectivedemigod @shesadramaqueen @ceruleanrainblues @yllwtaxi @avilliansdream @oblivion-queen1 @sophieeelol @tardisgrump

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joemerl · 5 years

Text

Writer’s Month, Day 15: “First Time”

Original fiction, specifically “the Werewolf WIP”

Word count: 2,052

Summary: The first time that Randall saw his dad turn into a wolf, and the first time that he joined him.

Warnings: Non-sexual nudity and childish humor about said non-sexual nudity.

Randall was six years old the first time that his father turned into a wolf.

It was scary. It happened at night. First Dad said how itchy he felt, then that he hurt all over, even inside with his bones and stuff. He had tried a hot shower, taking medicine, but soon he was crying out in pain, even crying. Mom followed him around anxiously and Curtis cried in the background.

Somehow or other, Dad’s frenzy caused him to stumble outside into the backyard, falling onto his hands and knees. He had only been wearing a towel from when he was in the shower, and that had fallen off, and then it had happened—he turned into a wolf.

At first Mom had screamed and run inside, slamming the sliding glass door, but wolf-Dad had put his nose against it, whining pitifully. Reluctantly she had let him in, and he wasn’t scary like the wolves that Randall had heard about in stories—he was shaking like he was scared, but he would cuddle up against them, and he licked Randall’s face and laid his head in Mom’s lap as she cried in fear and confusion.

On Sunday night, Dad figured out how to turn back. And a few days later he told Randall that a mean witch who lived nearby had cursed him, and now he was going to have to be a wolf for three days every week.

A few months later was Randall’s seventh birthday. And after that, Randall would start turning into a wolf too.

* * *

“And here we are,” Roger Packwood said, dropping his backpack as they reached a clearing in the forest. “What do you think?”

Randall shrugged, not sure what he was supposed to say.

“Yeah, silly question, isn’t it?” Roger grinned. “But this is a nice spot—the creek is right over that way, and nobody else ever comes this way. But what do we do if we see somebody?”

“Hide or slink away like your scared,” Randall said automatically.

“That’s right,” he said, ruffling his son’s hair. “Now come on. I’m gonna show you how to set up the tent.”

They did, and unpacked some blankets to give it a soft floor. Roger invited Randall to lay on them to test it out, and then took that moment of weakness to grab his son and begin to tickle him like crazy, only relenting when Randall laugh-screamed that he was about to wet himself. After that they stood outside the tent and said a prayer, asking God they would find food and be safe and healthy for the three days that they wouldn’t be able to pray out loud anymore.

Finally Roger showed him how to crouch down when the transformation happened. “Hands and feet, not hands and knees, you got it? It feels weird standing this way as a human, but your legs will get shorter when you turn into a wolf, alright?”

Randall nodded, then looked nervously up at the sky. It was a pretty assortment of pinks, indicating that it was almost sunset.

“Dad, is it scary being a wolf?”

“Oh, no,” Roger said, too quickly, as he rose to his feet. “It’s really fun! Remember what I told you about the hearing and the smells and everything?”

“Yeah,” Randall said. He smiled, hoping to reassure both his father and himself. “And I’m gonna have like, a wolf brain with my human brain?”

He sat down on the ground beside him. “Kind of. It’s more like—once you change, you automatically sort of know how to do some things, figure out your wolf senses and hunt and stuff. It’s hard to explain, but you’ll see how it works.”

“Am I gonna have to hunt?”

Roger shrugged. “You could go after a rabbit, if you like. But just watch me if I go after a deer or something, alright? That can be dangerous.”

“What if I don’t want to kill anything?”

“Then I’ll get dinner for us. But—well, we have to eat something.”

Randall was going to remind him that Mom used to give him raw hamburger to eat—back when he used to stay home to change—but he didn’t bother; he already knew that wolves at too much for them to afford that every week. It was one of the main reasons that Dad started going into the woods instead.

“Are we sure I’m gonna change?” he asked quietly.

“Well, that’s what—that’s what the witch said, so you probably will. If not, then you and I will just camp out together anyway, and I’ll keep you safe.” He reached out and tousled his son’s hair, earning a less forced grin for his effort. “Don’t be scared. Whatever happens, I’ll be here. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Roger glanced up at the sky again, then checked his cell phone. “Only a couple minutes left now. Now all we gotta do is take off our clothes.”

“Even our underwear?”

Roger smirked. “Wolves don’t wear underwear, do they? Don’t worry—there’s no one around but the two of us, okay? Hand me one of those bags.”

The pair undressed and each stuffed their clothes into a plastic grocery bag, which Roger stowed in the tent for when they would change back on Sunday. Randall was grinning sheepishly as he crawled back out.

“You look silly.”

“I look silly?” Roger made a show off placing his hands on his hips and bending down to his level. “Why’s that?”

“'Cause you’re naked!”

Roger looked down and feigned shock at this fact, quickly covering himself with his hands. “Well, you’re naked too!” he said, pointed.

Randall shrieked in mock horror and imitated his father.

“Butt naked!”

“BUTT NAKED!” Randall screamed, throwing back his head so that his voice echoed through the trees.

They both giggled like crazy, and Randall was relieved to feel his fears momentarily melt away. Talking to Mom about this made it all seem so scary; Dad always managed to make scary things fun. Even if memories of his first change still had Randall feeling nauseous.

“How much longer ‘til it happens?”

“Any minute now. And little cub?”

“Yeah?” Little cub was Dad’s new nickname for him. A cub was what a young wolf was called.

Roger put his hand on Randall’s shoulder. His smile was calm and reassuring.

“Remember what I said. You don’t need to be scared, because I’ll be with you the whole time. Alright?”

Randall nodded slowly, standing up a bit straighter and meeting his father’s gaze.

That was when it happened. Randall’s whole body gave a sort of flinch, he suddenly had a terrible tummy ache and his face itched like crazy. Only when he grabbed it on instinct did he feel the fur growing all over.

“Dad! It’s happening!”

His voice was panicked, and he only felt more scared when he turned—his father’s face was covered with fur that was the same dark red as his hair. Roger only smiled, however, even as it spread like a wave down his neck and onto his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, little cub. Now come on—hands and feet, remember?”

Randall nodded slowly and crouched down, even as his face contorted in a sudden grimace of pain. He was gasping for breath---he felt like he was going to throw up, except that the sick feeling was all over his body. His bones and stomach seemed to be moving inside of him, and the itchiness spread further as dark gray fur erupted from his chest and arms. He closed his eyes as he saw his fingers start to shrink and grow claws, while feeling the same thing happening to his toes as well.

“It hurts, Dad!”

“It won’t for long, little cub! Just aaaggghhh---”

Randall had one second to watch his father’s face contort before he felt the same thing happening to him, his mouth stretching out and shifting into a wolf’s long snout. Tears of pain came to his eyes as he felt new teeth grow in, pushing the old ones aside to make room. And then, finally, one last stab of pain in his lower back, followed by a strange sensation like a new, misshapen arm had grown there. He turned around and saw his tail, which thrashed around like it had a mind of its own.

After that the changes stopped, but Randall stood there panting even as he gazed down at his new form. He felt dizzy with all the new sensations that he could hear and smell, his four legs were shaking, his tail lowered and his fur bristled as he gazed around the dark clearing, which now looked as bright as noon—

A larger red wolf—his dad—cautiously approached and rubbed his face against Randall’s. Without thinking Randall nuzzled him back, whining. They stayed like that for a long moment until Randall slowly felt his muscles relax and most of his fear ebb away.

Thus began his first three days as a wolf. The two of them raced through the trees, swam in the creek and howled at the sky—Roger quite well, Randall in stuttering yips. They play-wrestled in the clearing just like they would roughhouse at home, except now they had claws and fangs to gently nip at each other. They slept cuddled together in the tent, which reminded Randall of the lazy afternoons when they would snuggle on the couch with the TV playing in the background.

On Friday Roger tried to kill a deer; it got away, so then he killed a rabbit for each of them instead. He showed Randall how to eat it, tearing open its skin and ripping out its insides with his teeth. The human part of Randall felt gross, but the wolf part eagerly goggled down the bloody meat. On Sunday he even caught a rabbit of his own, running over and snapping its neck in his jaws on instinct. He felt kind of bad about it, but his dad yipped in a way that made Randall feel strangely grown-up and proud.

Sundown on Sunday was when they were finally able to turn back. Roger dragged out his bag of clothes and transformed as he wrestled into them, then went to help Randall get dressed.

It didn’t hurt this time, but it felt strange. His snout melted back into a human face as Roger forced the shirt over his head, and he itched all over again as the hair retracted into his body. Randall pulled on his jeans with newly human hands, and his wolf legs reshaped to fit them, his feet doing the same when he put on his socks and shoes.

It was dark now. Randall sat there for a moment, feeling dazed, as Roger crept to their camping supplies and pulled out a lantern. “Come on,” he whispered, helping him to his feet. “Let’s take down the tent and go home.”

Randall nodded mutely as the two got to work.

A little while later they had hiked back to their car, packed up their supplies and climbed into the front seats. For a few seconds they sat there, neither making a move to buckle their seatbelts.

“So,” Roger said, trying to sound conversational, “what did you think?”

Randall wasn’t sure what he thought. “It was pretty fun,” he said finally.

“Yeah?” Roger sounded slightly desperate.

"Uh-huh. I liked playing with you, as a wolf.”

“I liked that too,” said Roger. “I’ve missed y’all,” he added, turning to stare out the windshield. “Ever since I started coming out here every week. Three days all alone, I spend the whole time just thinking about you boys and your mom...”

He trailed off. Randall looked up, trying to make out his expression in the dim light.

“We miss you too. Curtis always asks where you are---I keep trying to explain but I don’t know if he understands.”

“Yeah. But it---it was really nice, having you along this time,” Roger said. He turned to Randall, his smile broad but somehow sad. “And now---we’ll have three whole days together every week, won’t we? Even if we’re wolves, at least we’ll be together, huh?”

"Yeah!” Randall forced a smile, even though he still wasn’t sure how to feel. His father seemed happier, though, and he took a deep breath, pulling on his seatbelt.

“Come on. Let’s get home before your mom starts to worry.”

#WritersMonth2019 #Werewolves #Werewolf #The OTHER novel that I'm supposedly writing #Randall Packwood #Roger Packwood

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