#Look at him! He looks so polite. He’s got his key lime pie—he’s all good | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

astroluvr · 3 years ago

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given that today is mother's day, im sure that a lot people are expecting a fluffy blurb, but i do want to acknowledge those that no longer get to celebrate this holiday in the same way as everyone else. i did write this from a somewhat personal perspective and i know that everyone grieves differently, but i hope that anyone who may need this blurb today can find the slightest bit of comfort in it!

cw: grief, brief mentions of death

***

When you arrived in front of Jack’s childhood home, you forced a smile on your face. You knew today would be hard, but you didn’t want to spoil it for anyone else. As you looked out the window, Jack’s hand slid to your thigh and you turned your head. He was dressed nicely for his family’s annual Mother's Day dinner and you were too, your white sundress matching his white shirt and pressed jeans.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” his eyebrows were raised in concern and you just gave him a soft smile.

“I’m fine, Jack. It’s Mother’s Day.”

“That’s why I’m asking. I know today is hard for you, baby.”

“I don’t want to get upset about it, so can we just go ahead?” you asked softly, clearing your throat.

Jack agreed and left the subject with a kiss to your forehead. You grabbed the pretty flowers you got for Maggie and looped your arm through Jack��s. The door was already open for you two and the sound of a happy family was a little less than contagious than it should’ve been.

Jack’s body guided yours through the foyer and into the kitchen where everyone was. Maggie was sampling a piece of pie when she saw the two of you. “Hi!”

“Hey, Mama.”

“Hi, Mrs. Harlow.”

She set the saucer down and walked towards the both of you. She hugged Jack first and you greeted the rest of the family while he talked to her sweetly. By the time Jack was done, she was wrapping her arms around you.

“Happy Mother’s Day.” you said. Your smile was more polite than genuine, but she couldn’t tell.

“Thank you, darling. These are gorgeous.” she took the bouquet you presented her with and set them in a vase with the other flowers she’d collected through the day. “Have you been keeping your eye on my boy?”

“I’ve been trying.” you chuckled and watched over her shoulder as Jack took a bite of the key lime pie.

“This is good, Ma. Is there anymore?”

“I guess that’s all you can do.” she sighed before turning around and you giggled. “Jack, honey, can you not wait until after dinner?”

“I’m about to be married with kids and I still have to wait until after dinner?” you scoffed out a laugh and Jack smirked.

“I have no idea where he got that from.” you whispered and frowned.

“Either way, you’re going to wait until after dinner.” she scolded, walking up to him and leading him out of the kitchen with her hands on his back.

When he was outside of the kitchen, Jack smiled back at his mother and grabbed your hand. “Everyone’s outside and Dad’s barbecuing. He might let us have some samples.”

You rolled your eyes at his false bitterness and let him guide you outside. The backyard was gorgeous on behalf of Maggie’s redesign and the spring weather was beautiful. Jack had his arm around you as the two of you approached where the grill was smoking. You couldn’t deny you were in agreeance with Jack in hopes for a sample.

Clay was sitting with his father at the picnic table and jutted his chin up. “Jack, come here quick.”

“What’s up?” he sat next to his brother and left you to sit next to Brian who gave you a kind smile.

“I put together this slide show for Mom. Do you want to see?”

“Hell yeah. Is it from both of us?”

Clay sucked his teeth and Jack nudged his shoulder. “Man, you’ve been doing this for years.”

“You give Ma the sweet, sappy stuff and I give her stuff she likes.”

“Fine, it’s from both of us, but that necklace you got is too.”

“That necklace was expensive as hell.”

“So was the app to make this shit.”

“Would you believe me if I told you they’ve been like this forever?” Brian leaned over and you laughed.

“I would, actually. I hear them on the phone all the time.”

“Wait, Y/N, come look at this.” Jack reached out for you and you walked over to see Clay’s iPad displaying what would be their gift.

You swallowed in preparation for emotion to come as the video started. It began with two pictures, one where Maggie was carrying Clay and the other where she was carrying Jack. It slowly progressed with two pictures until Clay and Jack were both born.

You felt yourself growing a little overwhelmed with the music that swelled over home videos of her chasing both boys of images of her kissing both of them. You could see the love that only a mother could possess and it made you realize how much you craved it. It wasn’t until there was a grainy video of Jack and Clay at elementary school ages that you got too emotional.

“I love being a mother more than anything,” she said in the video and a smile graced Jack and Clay’s faces. Even Brian smiled fondly. “My boys are my entire world and I can’t wait to be even prouder of the men that they become.”

“This is really cute, but I have to, um, use the bathroom.” you excused yourself to Jack who nodded distractedly before rushing off to the house.

“Y/N?” Maggie said as you passed and you slowed down. “Are you alright?”

“Yes ma’am, I just need to use the bathroom, that’s all.”

“Oh! Well, there’s some fruit in the kitchen if you want some.”

You nodded frantically at an attempt to hide your emotion before continuing to Jack’s old bedroom. When you made it there, you shut the door and exhaled shakily before pacing around the space.

You did your best to contain your emotions all day. You didn’t want to have Jack worry about you on a day that meant a lot to him. He loved his parents and he was dedicated to being with Maggie on Mother’s Day, so the last thing you wanted to do was dampen the day.

As hot tears rolled down your face and you began soaking through Kleenex, Maggie was already outside expressing her concern. Clay and Jack had put the video away to keep the surprise, and now the attention was fully on you.

“Jack, why’d you drag Y/N to spend Mother’s Day with us? You came last year.”

“What do you mean?” he furrowed his eyebrows and Maggie frowned.

“She’s been seeming a little distant. I know you haven’t been here long, but I’m sure she loves her mother as much as you do. You’ll have to share the big holidays, son.”

“Where’s this coming from? Did she say something to you?”

“No,” Maggie shook her head and picked at her nails. “I can just tell she probably wanted to be with her mom today.”

“Oh, shit.” he muttered to himself and his family watched him stand up before walking to the house.

Jack immediately felt terrible when he heard your muffled cries through the door. You hated talking about your mother and your feelings about it to him, so it wasn’t rare to hear you hiding from him to let it out. He was more than willing to hold you and he knew that he needed to now.

He knocked three times and heard a sniffle before a response. “One second, please!”

“It’s me, baby. Can I come in?”

“Can you give me a minute?”

“I just want to talk to you.” he twisted the door knob and you wiped your face as best you could.

After smoothing down your dress, you opened the door and revealed Jack. He stepped in and looked at you before pouting. “Jack, I’m okay. I just thought to come up here and let you guys have your moment.”

“You’re a part of our family, too. I wouldn’t have invited you here if I wasn’t comfortable.” he said softly before crossing the threshold into more pressing matters. “And I know that you know that, so what's the matter?”

“It was just a really sweet gesture. Made me a little emotional.”

“Y/N, baby, you can talk to me.” his voice was slightly pleading and it made your lip quiver.

You sat down and felt your body go weak with your feelings. “It’s just hard. I mean, every day has bee hard since I lost her, but days like this, they’re the worst.”

Jack kneeled down in front of you and rubbed your knees as you sobbed. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here, baby.”

“And I hate talking about it. I don’t want to have to deal with the fact that she’s gone, Jack. I can’t deal with it. I miss her more and more every day. It sucks.”

“Yeah.” he whispered, grabbing your hands as your body shook with sobs.

“There was so much that she deserved to see, that she wanted to see. Our wedding, our kids, meeting you. It’s just so...” you squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. “And I don’t want to feel jealous or left out on Mother’s Day, but I do. The love you have for your mother is the same kind I had for mine and I wish I had the chance to tell her.”

Jack himself was beginning to shed tears. He could feel your emotion in the grip you had on his hands grow tighter as you hyperventilated. He could hear in your voice how many times the subject had tried to escape from your lips, but fell short. The way you looked in his eyes, he could see that you trusted him to carry a piece of the burden you carried around in your heart.

“I just miss her so fucking much.” you blinked away tears as the words came out like you were exhausted. “And she’s the only person in this world that could tell me I'm going to be alright.”

“I have no clue what to say to ease the pain, but I’m so sorry, Y/N. I want to say I understand, but I can’t. I can’t imagine what you went through, what you’re going through, and how this is going to affect you for the rest of your life, but I know you’re so strong. I would’ve loved to meet your mom and tell her that her daughter turned into the love of my life- the strong, beautiful, sensational, intelligent love of my fucking life. I’m not the person you want to hear it from, but you are so loved.”

Your tears became less of your grief and more of love. Over the years, you hadn’t received many sentiments that were able to quell an insufferable ache, but these ones were able to make you feel a little less pain than usual.

“I love you, too, Jack. That truly did help me.” you murmured, wiping your eyes and leaning down into your boyfriend for a kiss. “I didn’t mean to ruin your Mother’s Day.”

“How could you have?” he pecked your lips once more before looking at your sad eyes.

“I-I just dumped all of that on you.”

“No, you didn’t. It’s good that you can talk to me about it. We have a lot of life to live together and we’re going to need moments like that.” Jack reassured you softly. “When we get home, maybe we can find a way to celebrate her.”

You smiled softly and nodded your head. “I’d really, really like that.”

“Good.” he sighed, rubbing your lower back before standing up and pulling you with him.

“Thank you for being so understanding, Jack.”

“Anything for you.” he said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

#jack harlow #fan fiction #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow blurb #bf!jack #jack harlow fanfiction #jack harlow angst #jack harlow fluff #mother's day

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varusai · 3 years ago

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🤥 LYING 👻 GHOST 🍰 CAKE SLICE 🌙 MOON 🕷️ SPIDER 🎁 PRESENT 🎀 RIBBON 🎨 PALETTE ❤️ RED HEART 💔 BROKEN HEART 🖍️ CRAYON All three, please~

this was a blast. an absolute dissertation of an ask😩😩😩😩👌

🤥 LYING - are they good liars? do they have tells to show they’re lying?

Shiro: noooo, shiro is not a good liar. he hates lying and is really bad at it when he has to do it. the tells are super obvious, his face will get really red and depending on how serious it is he may start sweating. he tries to be moving around and busy if he has to lie so it looks like these reactions are just from exerting himself, but he's a fit person so that doesn't even make sense lol.

Haxus: haxus is a fantastic liar and really doesn't have any tells. he could lie to your face and you'd never know. honestly, though he's not a massive liar. he's a very direct person and doesn't usually sugarcoat shit or beat around the bush, so if he's lying it's probably about minor shit, or he's doing it to cause problems or to be annoying.

Sendak: like shiro he really hates lying and also dislikes liars on principle. but he's also very old and a very politically active member of the royal family so he's picked up the skill for when he needs it. since most of the lies he'd be telling are placating lies or white lies there aren't really any tells, but if it's something more serious his tone of voice might change some, louder and lower, and his ears might get to swiveling if he's not careful.

👻 GHOST - do they believe in ghosts? what are their “ghostly experiences”, if any?

Shiro: as a kid he did but eventually he grew out of it. he's never had any experiences and isn't really religious so believing in ghosts just became one of those funny things. though considering aliens used to fall into a similar category if you asked him currently he'd probably shrug and tell you anything is possible.

Haxus: the galra have long since scientifically confirmed the existence of the soul and can both measure it and if need be, extract it given the proper quintessence harvesting technology or a willing druid. he's read all the research and confirmed it himself even though he's 150% not supposed to have access to any of that information so yeah he believes in ghosts. though it's all purely scientific, and so are all of his 'ghostly experiences'.

Sendak: sendak actually used to be religious when he was young and did believe in ghosts and spirits 100%. and while with all the new science out in the modern-day he'd call himself an agnostic, he still does have a superstitious streak about him. he doesn't go into the labs where haggar does her experiments unless zarkon or haxus is with him because it gives him the creeps and he doesn't let haxus do anything similar on their cruiser or in any place where he has to frequent for the same reason. he's never actually seen anything but felt bad energies? absolutely. and he's not inclined to fuck around with it.

🍰 CAKE SLICE- favourite cake flavour? are they specific about types of cakes?

Shiro: shiro loves ice cream cake, specifically the ones you get from a dairy queen or other similar place. the flavor doesn't so much matter he's not a picky person it's more about the experience. he was super sick as a kid and on a bunch of special diets and medication to try and curb the effects of his illness. and dairy specifically used to make him super sick. so he never got to have stuff like that until he was nearing adulthood and in remission. so now he gets them given any opportunity.

Haxus: the real question here is what haxus doesnt like when it comes to cake and dessert. he has a monstrous sweet tooth and dessert is one of the few categories of food where he's not extremely picky. put anything down in front of him and it will be gone in a hot second.

Sendak: sendak doesn't actually like super sweet foods, and while he does like cake he'd probably go with something more tart like a lemon cake or key lime pie, or something light on the frosting. he also has the issue of having that arctic megafauna biology so he's gotta watch out or he'll gain a ton of weight. so he keeps away from sweets unless it's a special occasion or holiday.

🌙 MOON - what is your oc’s greatest wish? how far are they willing to go for it?

Shiro: to catch a fucking break tbh. he'd love for shit to stop happening to him for a good week or two. just....turn everything off and take a good long nap.

Haxus: he would very much like to unfuck his brain damage. but given that's not possible he's settling with unfucking his body, which will be a whole mess given how fucked up he was, and finding his mia commander and possible lover. small goals to start out with.

Sendak: he'd love to have a do-over. like...in the span of about 10 years he all but ruined a relationship that's spanned multiple lifetimes and then (supposedly) got his life partner killed. so he's going through it. and would very much like to rewind and fix things if at all possible. but ofc it's not so he's miserable.

🎁 PRESENT - what types of presents would they be most happy to receive? are they good at gift-giving?

Shiro: shiro is most happy to get anything related to his interests/hobbies, books, in particular, he really likes. he's been nerdy all his damn life and it never went away. he also loves a good party, family or friends or both. doesn't matter what kind either since it's more about the social aspect than the atmosphere.

he's only an average gift-giver though. since he's still really young he was only just getting out of the stage where he was always the one receiving gifts and entering the gift giver stage. with kids or people he's super close with he can usually nail it but anyone else and it's a toss-up. he will resort to gift cards or socks pretty quickly if under any pressure.

Haxus: New Experiences. hands down. his biggest issue with life is stagnation and being bored, so he's always on the hunt for shit that he hasn't done or shit that he doesn't know anything about. if someone finds him something along those lines he'll be very happy. he's also big on food and fashion, as long as you know exactly what he likes. those are danger zones too because if he doesn't like it he'll be letting you know so you don't do it again lol. overall tho he's super easy to get stuff for. if all else fails just get him trinkets and items. he loves stuff. especially if it's broken and he can rip it apart and fix it.

he's a pretty good gift-giver too, a big patterns guy and doesn't forget things as long as he's paying attention. he's also kinda weird and keeps files on and information logs about all the people in his life, general personality and changes over time, likes, dislikes, things they want and things they can't stand etc. so he always has a pretty good idea of what someone would like for an occasion or what someone would need done for them if that would be received better than a material gift.

Sendak: sendak is actually really hard to get things for because he's one of those people that has everything (hax takes good care of him). mostly he'll tell people not to buy him anything since he doesn't need stuff and also as a member of the royal family and someone with a rich partner he thinks it's unreasonable and even sort of rude of him to expect material gifts from other people. instead, he'd usually rather just go do something/be taken somewhere. which works out well in his relationship because haxus is A Scheduler, and organizes things for them to do in his leisure time. he's really bad about taking breaks and doing things for himself so he appreciates it.

on the flip side, he's really really good at giving gifts. he's very wealthy alone and via his marriage and he will spare no expense. all of the kids in his family are spoiled rotten because of him.

🎀 RIBBON - how would they fit into other worlds / aus? what aus would you like to try out? what fictional world would they fit / not fit into?

hmm...ive never really thought about like...crossover aus or anything tbh. however me and @shadow-djinni do a lot of wordbuilding together and play around in each other's au's all the time and that's always funny considering their sen hax are non-immortals and mine are basically ancient alien energy vampires. very interesting interactions.

🎨 PALETTE - can they draw? what do they like to draw?

Shiro: he can draw as well as your average adult. he took an art class or two in college for fun and did ok. nothing to write home about but the pieces weren't bad and you could always tell what they were. he'd much rather do things like still lifes or something similar, nothing that requires anatomy bc that's way too hard. outside of his skill level lol.

Haxus: haxus can draw and is actually a shockingly good artist to most people's surprise. not even an immortality thing either he's always just been creative and has had an eye for detail and aesthetic. mainly he draws architectural stuff, project planning, things he wants to build, concept art, and whatnot. also, fashion, since he has a particular aesthetic he likes on himself. and ofc horny art, because who wouldn't? it gets sendak all worked up when he finds smut art and haxus thinks it's peak comedy.

Sendak: he really can't draw at all tbh, he's tried plenty of times but just has zero natural talent and is the type of person to get pissed and quit when it doesn't look good the first time, so he never got any better lol. he can draw like...passible maps and diagrams and whatnot but beyond that its a no go, he'll just call haxus.

❤️ RED HEART - their love language(s)?

i gave each of their top 3

Shiro: words of affirmation, acts of service, and physical touch

Haxus: acts of service, quality time, and receiving gifts

Sendak: physical touch, quality time, and acts of service.

💔 BROKEN HEART - what could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

Shiro: pity him or tell him he can't do something. as someone who was disabled/chronically ill for the majority of his life with a disease that was more than likely going to kill him by the time he's middle-aged, he's 150% done with pity and people thinking he can't do shit. he spent his late teens and early 20s speed running his life and achieving everything he always wanted for himself and he's got no room in his life for people who will do the above. and that's exactly what ruined his relationship with adam.

Haxus: ignore/disregard/abandoning him. haxus dealt with massive amounts of neglect and abandonment from his parents and family and was alone from a super young age, and even currently he's pretty introverted and doesn't have many people he considers close friends and has only ever had one partner so that being repeated with one of his carefully cultivated relationships would be devastating to him. this is what was in the process of ruining his relationship with sendak.

Sendak: betrayal/abandonment. sendak is insanely loyal and takes loyalty extremely seriously. so betrayal from a partner would hurt him immensely. and considering how much pressure he's under in all aspects of his life and how much he relies on haxus to support him abandonment would be disastrous for him. he did a lot of damage to his relationship by reading haxus telling him no and not supporting his bad decisions as betrayal instead tough love support. very big oof on his part.

🖍️ CRAYON - what advice would you give to them?

Shiro: not everything is your problem to fix, and you shouldn't be trying to fix everything. also, worry less about the judgment of others. you did what you had to do to survive and it's not your fault. you aren't a bad person because of it. forgive yourself.

Haxus: not everyone is out to get you and not every situation needs to be controlled with an iron fist, so relax, calm down, and let other people help you when you need help. he'd tell me to fuck myself though so i also might just mind my own business.

Sendak: stop being so fucking blindly loyal+stubborn and listen to your partner and other people in your life that have your best interests at heart. would have saved you a lot of trouble and grief. he'd also prob tell me to fuck myself but he knows damn well that i'm right.

#sendak #haxus #shiro #voltron #asks #kyfebs

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introductions-are-a-spook · 3 years ago

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Hello Andy! I hope this ask finds you well. For the self ship ask desserts part 4: key lime pie, banana pudding, cream puff, trifle, peach parfait, and biscotti. Thank you 💙

@shylesbiannerd

To both of you, I got so many of them that I just decided to do them all, hope you don’t mind! As per usual I answer for him and Andrew (rather than him and me). And, sorry this took a while!

hot fudge sundae: do you explore abandoned buildings/“cursed” locations?

Oh, definitely! He's such a detective, always looking for a mystery to solve. It’s fun- he takes an urban legend, goes to the ‘source,’ and walks Andrew through what he thinks was really going on.

Frankly Andrew’s just there for the vibes and the escape. Man just wants to spend time with his geek boyfriend!

key lime pie: is there something that annoys your f/o that you just don’t understand?

I dunno why, but he gets really stingy about specific words people use. Like, it's not 'hot cocoa,' it's 'hot chocolate milk.' And it's not 'all of a sudden,' it has to be 'suddenly.' He can get so uptight about it, it's kind of hilarious.

Don’t even get him started on politics. Yeah, people argue politics all the time, but he doesn’t really care about them from a societal perspective. He just wants to make sure you know the exact differences between communism and socialism, from an academic perspective.

banana pudding: how does your f/o make you feel safe?

Overall, no one in their right mind would call Maxwell trustworthy (not even himself or Andrew). And yet I can tell he cares a lot more than he lets on, or would even like to admit. The way he goes out of his way to make sure Andrew is not just safe, but also happy, is what makes he himself feel like such a safe place.

cream puff: how do you look out for each other?

Let’s face it; neither Andrew or Maxwell are good people. Looking out for each other often consists of defending one another. But then, that’s the fun of the relationship- always getting each other in and out of trouble!

Andrew had a run-in with the law again? No big deal, Maxwell has influence with the police, and can get him out of it.

Maxwell pissed someone off at a party with his classic egoism? Again, no problem, Andrew is more than capable of charming them both out of consequence.

trifle: does your f/o seem to know everything about you?

Yes, actually! He has a weird way of looking through people, figuring them out with just a look. It’s the detective in him- he just knows stuff about Andrew without having been told (which was made even worse when they started staying at each other’s houses). Ex:

“Hey, Maxie, I’m going to be away for the weekend.”

“Oh, good luck on the concert!”

Or, “Max, I’ve got an appointment later. Could you-“

“I’ve already told Isabella to watch the shop for you. Stay safe!”

peach parfait: what makes your f/o smile the most?

He’s a reader, always has been. Getting lost in a book is one of his favorite things. On the other hand, Andrew is a writer, and is usually inspired by Maxwell. So what really makes him smile is everything Andrew writes for him. He’ll find a poem next to his breakfast or something and just smile for a while about it.

Andrew wrote him a long romantic love letter at one point, and his older brother actually had to tell him to shut up and stop giggling.

chocolate mousse: how do you spend a night out?

Both of em’ are very fancy people! So usually date nights involve an extravagant event of some kind. Expensive dinners, maybe a show or a play, and if there’s a dance going on somewhere, it’s an automatic must.

Sometimes Andrew will come up with a mystery for Maxwell to solve, as a sort of game. Which admittedly, describes their entire relationship.

biscotti: do you wake up early or sleep in? who usually gets up first?

They only sleep in the same bed on the weekends (alternating houses every week), so when they do, they can stay up fairly late. Maxwell typically has to spend a good half hour finagling Andrew out of bed, albeit a loving way.

Just kidding! Maxwell is definitely the type to swipe the blankets and pull Andrew by the wrist until he gets up.

When they’re just on their own, they have to be asleep decently early, since they both have work and stuff to do during both the morning and afternoon.

hazelnut truffle: how is your home usually decorated?

Andrew’s is pretty small, so most of the decorations consist of some pictures and house plants (it’s also pretty messy, in that ‘frantic artist’ type way).

Maxwell’s, on the other hand, is decorated just how you’d expect an old manor in London to be decorated. Lots of paintings, books, and ornaments. His room specifically is more a library than a bedroom, as is a lot neater than Andrew’s.

Basically, the quintessential difference between chaotic academia and scholarly academia.

Thank you for reading!

#thank you for the ask!#or asks i guess 🤔#Rebeca 🐤#Autumn 🍁

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o-foramuse-of-fire · 4 years ago

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Happy New Year! Here is my Secret Santa gift for @ubilupus! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Alice Brandon has a massive crush on law student Jasper Whitlock. The only problem? She’s never actually spoken to him out loud. AH/AU

Title: Apricity

Words: 3,450

Rating: G/K+

Read on: AO3 or FFN

The snow fell in feather-light flakes in the crisp winter air. Alice chewed her lip as she gazed at the historic building across the street, almost mystical in the snowfall. She walked back and forth by the bus stop, hesitating to cross the street. A dark blue bus pulled up to the stop, its sign flashing yellow. Several students descended and the driver waited to see if Alice would board. She shook her head, shaking flakes out of her pixie-cut. The driver shrugged, closed the door, and drove off.

“What are you doing?”

Alice jumped at the voice. Sharp yet sweet, like a slice of key lime pie, with just a hint of caramel smoothness. She turned and plastered a huge smile on her face.

“Oh, hey, Rosalie!”

Rosalie Hale was one of Alice’s closest friends. The two had met freshman year signing up to assist with one of the many student theatre groups on campus. Rosalie, a Business major, wanted to get involved in marketing and Alice, who was studying Art and Design, was interested in assisting with designing posters or helping to paint sets.

“Don’t ‘hey, Rosalie,” me,” Rosalie retorted. “This is the third time this week I’ve caught you loitering out by the Law Quad.”

“Is it?”

“C’mon, Alice, something’s going on with you. And don’t just say you’re trying to plan out where to take grad photos because I know it’s something more than that.”

Alice quickly shut her mouth. That had been the excuse she was about to give. Everyone knew the Law Quad was in high demand for graduating seniors. In a few months, once the majority of winter was behind them and the temperature rose above freezing, Alice knew there’d be people crowding for the perfect cap and gown shot.

But that wasn’t the reason she’d spent more hours than she could count recently, wrapped up in her warmest--yet still fashionable--winter clothes and staring longingly at the gray stone arches. Alice heaved a sigh, her breath forming a tiny cloud in the wintry air.

“Okay. Fine. C’mon.”

Alice adjusted the strap of her cross-body bag and swung her scarf over her shoulder before leading Rosalie across the street. The two of them wandered into the Law Quad, looking more like Hogwarts at Christmas than it had any right to. Snow dusted the tops of the stone towers and turrets and coated the rooftops. Icicles hung from the mature trees like crystals. Students meandered through the Quad, ducking in and out of the grand arches, crossing pathways lined by Victorian-style street lamps. When they reached the door to the Law Library, Alice hesitated.

“Just don’t get me kicked out, okay?” The Law Library was notorious for having a strict no-talking policy.

“I won’t make a peep,” Rosalie said, her ruby lips curling into an intrigued grin.

They walked into the Reading Room, and no matter how many times Alice stepped foot inside there, she was always struck by its grandiose beauty and ambiance. The room was large and open, with a 10 story ceiling surrounded by beautiful stained glass windows bearing the seals of great universities around the world. The ceiling itself was intricately designed with squares of floral-like designs sculpted in gold. The Reading Room was illuminated with soft light from elegant two-tiered chandeliers, stylized to look like candles. Wooden shelves filled with legal books lined the long hall, interspersed with elaborate doorways and stonework. With finals fast approaching, students from all across campus crowded the oversized tables with curved reading lights, their books and notes stacked high. Anxious, academic energy crackled in the air. Alice walked down the aisle, Rosalie trailing at her side, until she came upon the third table from the back on the left. There, like he had been every day this week, sat a god.

A golden-haired young man with storm cloud eyes. Sculpted cheekbones and lips that Alice just knew were soft and kissable. A few strands of curly blond hair fell in front of his face as he pored over a thick tome, and the man pushed them out of his way with a flick of his long fingers. He was dressed in a knitted black sweater that complemented his tanned skin and accentuated his lean figure. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles.

Alice delicately pulled out the chair across from him, and slid into it as silently as she could manage. As she sat down, the man looked up from his book. His face lit up, eyes sparkling and lips stretching into a heart-stopping smile. Alice’s heart fluttered, and she returned his smile with an uncharacteristically shy grin. She opened up her bag and pulled out the textbook she kept in there for this exact purpose. She flipped through the pages until she came across the midnight blue bookmark denoting the last chapter she’d attempted to slog through. But before she could even attempt to read the first sentence, a crumpled piece of paper landed in front of her. Alice opened the note with excited fingers, her eyes eager for the words scrawled inside.

Art history again?

Alice’s mouth twitched. She scribbled a response on the paper, folded it up neatly, and passed it back across the table.

Yeah. My last final. I’ve been really slacking on the reading.

Maybe you know more than you think. You’ve been reading that book every time you’ve been in here.

Alice bit her lip. Had she done that? She’d meant to rotate her books, her excuses to be in his presence.

I keep getting distracted by the architecture. It’s just so beautiful in here.

It is. But if it keeps pulling your focus away from your studying, maybe you should try one of the less decorated spots on campus. Like Starbucks.

He shot her a smirk as he watched her read his words.

Never. I like the view here too much.

Me too.

Rosalie surreptitiously watched the exchange from a table across the aisle, quirking an eyebrow when Alice flushed scarlet and covered her mouth to hold in a giggle. She narrowed her eyes further as the note passing spanned a whole page. Then a second. Then a third. She didn’t think either of the two had touched their books in a while. Pursing her lips, Rosalie rose to her feet and sauntered back over to Alice’s table. Alice didn’t even notice her approach, she was too engrossed in whatever she was writing. Rosalie tapped her on the shoulder and crossed her arms. Alice gave her a sheepish grin, hurriedly wrote one final message, and passed the note to the blond-haired guy. He glanced it over, and the good-natured smile seemingly glued to his face fell ever so slightly. He gave Alice a wave as she stood, returned her book to her bag, and hoisted it over her shoulder. Alice returned his wave with her own, then tripped over her feet as Rosalie grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her to the exit.

As soon as they were back outside, Rosalie spun on Alice.

“Okay, spill. Who was that guy?”

Alice’s voice took on a dreamy tone. “Jasper Whitlock, first year law student. He’s originally from Texas and he went to Rice, majored in Political Science and History. He’s got a younger brother who’s studying Engineering at Rice now, and a little sister who’s in her senior year of high school. He likes horseback riding, Mexican food, and horror movies.”

“Wow, Alice, did you stalk the guy?”

A rosy blush colored Alice’s cheeks. “No. We passed notes. And then I Facebook stalked him.”

Rosalie snorted. “You’re crushing on him hard.”

“Except I haven’t said a word to him!” Alice cried, dragging her hands over her face. “I came to the Law Library to sketch last week--you know how I feel about Gothic architecture--and he was just there! Sitting at that table all gorgeous and studious. I don’t know how I worked up the nerve to pass him that first note, I swear my hands were shaking the whole time. But I’ve never actually spoken with him, like, words out loud, you know?”

“And he’s never tried to follow you out of the library to actually speak with you?”

“Nope.”

“Hm. He loses a few points for that. But maybe he’s just shy.”

“How could anyone that looks like that be shy? He probably just doesn’t like me.”

“Oh, he likes you, Alice. Trust me.”

“You don’t know that.” Alice whined.

“Did you not see the look he gave you? Like you were the sun and he was a mere flower. He bloomed in your presence. And practically wilted when you left.”

“I don’t know, Rose...”

Rosalie spun on her heels to stop and face Alice. She reached down to place her perfectly manicured hands atop Alice’s shoulders.

“Alright. Here’s what we’re gonna do. Tomorrow, we’re gonna dress you up and make you look so goddamn gorgeous, that he’ll follow you outta there like a little lovesick puppy.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Early the next morning--earlier than Alice would’ve liked--Rosalie was in her apartment, clucking her tongue as she parsed through Alice’s wardrobe. Alice sat on the edge of her bed, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. Rosalie had roped their friend Bella into the scheme, and the brunette was sitting next to Alice, almost as tired as she was, her head falling onto Alice’s shoulder every now and then.

“You owe me Starbucks for this,” Bella mumbled.

“Yeah, Rose,” Alice agreed. “Jasper doesn’t usually make it into the Law Library until after 11.”

“Which means we only have four hours to get you looking jaw-droppingly sexy,” answered Rosalie. She picked out a black dress that was way too short given the current temperatures, shook her head, and returned it to the closet.

“At least she’s keeping in mind the weather,” Bella muttered under her breath.

Bella was the most practical out of the three girls. She and Alice had met in their first year English class and had become fast friends. It had taken some time for Bella and Rosalie to warm up to each other--Bella had a knee-jerk response to anyone involved in a sorority. But after Rosalie had chewed out a sleaze-ball who’d attempted to run his hand up Bella’s skirt while the three were out dancing one night, the two had forged a tight bond.

“Okay, how about this,” said Rosalie as she held up two hangers. In one hand was a black pencil skirt. In the other was a silk purple blouse with a deep V-neck. It was long-sleeved with bunching at the wrist. “Some tights, your black pumps and--”

“I’ll look like a librarian,”

“A sexy librarian,” Rosalie corrected, but she returned the items to the closet.

“We’re trying to get this Jasper’s attention, right?” asked Bella.

Alice nodded.

“Well then, what do we know about him? What does he like?”

“Ooh, good idea Bella. Alice, has Jasper ever looked at you more than usual or in a different way? And what were you wearing when he did?”

“Um, not that I can remember...”

“Does he have a favorite color?” Bella offered.

Alice straightened, like a jolt of electricity had run through her body. Her eyes sparkled and she grinned with exuberance. She hopped off the bed and rushed over to her closet, pushing aside dresses and sweaters with ferocity until she found what she was looking for. She pulled the emerald green sweater dress out of the closet and held it out in front of her proudly. Though unassuming on the hanger, it clung to her body like a second skin. It had a scooped neckline, which artfully showed off her delicate collarbones, and an intricate knitted design.

“Green,” she said with a joyful smile.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Girls, I don’t know if I can do this,” said Alice, clutching the front of her black peacoat with white knuckles.

“Alice, you look beautiful,” Rosalie assured her.

“Yeah, it’s going to be fine! You’ve got this!” Bella encouraged.

Once the emerald dress had been decided upon, Alice had spent the next few hours under Rosalie’s direct care. She’d picked out a pair of black leggings, as well as a pair of black booties, plus the black peacoat with silver buttons to complete the look. Bella had chosen the knitted white beret style hat that hung loosely off the back of Alice’s head, displaying her dark hair with contrast. Alice’s hair normally stuck out in all directions, but Rosalie had coaxed the energetic strands into becoming tendrils. Rosalie was an artist with makeup, and had accentuated Alice’s features without overpowering her. Black eyeliner and mascara heightened Alice’s doe-like eyes, and the silver eyeshadow shimmered with every blink. Alice’s cheekbones were highlighted and dusted with a soft pink blush. Alice had always thought her lips were small--just like the rest of her--but Rosalie had worked her magic and now the lips, painted cherry-red, appeared pouty and full. Bella had talked Alice through exactly what she was going to say to Jasper, filling her up with self-confidence. She gave advice to Alice on how to win over Jasper with her words, not just her looks.

Now, the three of them were standing in front of the entrance to the Law Library. Alice’s knees knocked together. Rosalie and Bella were on either side of her, practically pushing her in.

“You know, I think I might be coming down with something, I’ve been standing in the cold too long, maybe I should go home and we could try this another day--”

“Uh-uh, no way!” Rosalie stopped Alice from running away and turned her right back towards the Law Library. “We did not give up valuable finals studying time for you to back out now. You are going to go in there, and you are not coming back out until you have a date!”

Rosalie shoved Alice forward, causing the shorter girl to almost trip. Alice recovered and gathered herself with a determined puff of air. She brushed a stray curl out of her eyes, rolled her shoulders back, and strode into the Law Library with as much confidence as she could muster.

As expected, Jasper was there, seated at his usual spot. He was surrounded by piles of books, and hunched over a thick notebook. He looked very focused and very hot. Alice closed her eyes, thought back on everything Rosalie and Bella had said to her that morning, and began to walk towards Jasper’s table.

He heard her approach--the clicks of her black boots echoed in the silent hall--and glanced up from his notebook. At first, he gave her his usual genteel grin, but then Alice watched his eyes widen and his lips part as he took in her appearance. Alice slowly undid the buttons of her coat, feigning nonchalance as best she could. She shrugged the coat off her shoulders, and Jasper gasped. The big reveal, Rosalie had called it.

Alice slowly sunk into the chair, smoothing her dress as she sat down. Gracefully, she extracted the small notebook and ballpoint pen she’d hidden in her coat pocket. Her heart was beating a mile a minute but she forced herself to appear calm as she placed the notebook on the table, flipped open the metallic golden cover, and began to write out the words she, Rosalie, and Bella had planned.

I’ve really enjoyed our chats over the last week, but I’d much prefer to actually speak in person. I like you a lot, Jasper, and I want to get to know you better. Grab a coffee with me?

With a final flourish of her pen, Alice tore out the sheet of paper, folded it, and tossed it over to Jasper, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since she sat down. The note landed in the center of his notebook.

Jasper blinked dumbly at the sound of the paper hitting his book. He glanced away from Alice and nimbly unfolded the note. He smiled as he began to read it, and Alice’s heart skipped a beat. But then an odd expression came over his face. His smile fell. His jaw dropped. His eyes became pitying, disbelieving.

Alice felt her heart sink into her stomach.

He didn’t like her.

Feeling tears well up in her eyes, Alice haphazardly threw on her coat and hastily stuffed her notebook and pen back into her pockets. Biting her lip, she ran out of the Law Library as fast as she could.

She burst out into the Quad, her face stinging in the cold. Rosalie and Bella were waiting by the door for her, but she ran past them, ignoring their perplexed faces and questioning calls. She couldn’t talk to them right now. She wanted to run back home and hide under her comforter, forgetting every foolish action she’d taken today.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered under her breath.

“Hey, Alice, wait!”

Alice turned as a charmingly accented voice with just a hint a twang called her name. Jasper was running after her, his unbuttoned coat flying open in the wind. Alice tried to hide her gape as she took in Jasper. She knew he was tall, but she hadn’t realized he was quite this tall. He towered over her by over a foot at least. Alice sniffed and wiped away the few tears that had fallen.

“It’s okay, Jasper, you don’t have to humor me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw how you looked at me in there. It’s clear you don’t like me the way that I like you. And that’s fine! I’m fine! I--”

“Alice, what?”

“--really, you don’t need to let me down easy or anything, I got it, and--”

“Alice.” Jasper’s tone became more pleading. “I was just a little taken aback, is all. You surprised me.”

Alice’s breath caught. “I...surprised you?”

The edges of Jasper’s lips turned up. “Yeah. I’ve been working up the nerve to ask you out all week and you beat me to it.”

Alice’s mouth fell open. Her brain was a mess of white noise as she attempted to process his words

“You...you like me?”

It was Jasper’s turn to blush.

“But you never...I mean...all this time...and the way you are I...” Alice stammered.

“My apologies for not speaking up sooner. But I’ve never,” Jasper hesitated, “I’ve never felt like this before. The words we shared on those scraps of paper weren’t much, but they meant everything to me. I’ve actually been coming to the Law Library every day, hoping you’d return,” he added with a bashful grin.

Alice gave a little start. He’d been doing that, too?

“I’m not good at expressing my feelings,” Jasper continued, running his fingers through his long blond locks, “but I felt a connection with you right away. I just didn’t know how to deal with it, cause it’s been so long since I’ve felt anything close to that. I’ve had some pretty messed up relationships in the past,” he said with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders.

“I don’t understand,” said Alice. “If you felt like this, why didn’t you say anything? Why did I have to do all this,” she motioned to her outfit, “to get you to come outside with me?”

“I came outside cause I could tell I’d upset you. And that ain’t right. I only ever want to see you smile.”

Alice flushed. Jasper took a slow step closer to her. Alice was struck again by his imposing stature. He had to duck and push snowy branches out of his way to get to where Alice was standing. And yet, with the way he was gazing at her, Alice didn’t feel small at all. In fact, she felt terribly emboldened by his adoring look.

“So it’s not cause I look amazingly sexy?” Alice teased.

Jasper chuckled. “You look beautiful today, really you do. But I think you look beautiful every day.”

Alice giggled, and her cheeks turned pink with new warmth. “So about that coffee,” she said, a hint of coyness slipping into her tone.

Jasper smiled sweetly. “I’d like that, ma’am.”

He took her hand, and Alice was surprised to find how well hers fit in his. Like they were made for each other, despite the height difference. Warmth raced through her body as he interlaced their fingers and gently ran his thumb over her skin. Alice hummed contentedly, and nestled into Jasper’s side. Another perfect fit.

#jalicesecretsanta20 #jalice fanfiction #jalice #my fic #twilight fanfiction #ubilupus #twilight renaissance #the twilight saga

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motiveandthemeans · 5 years ago

Text

When Dan met Abbey

He’d met her at a random lunch meeting on the Affordable Care Act he’d been forced to attend. She was the arguably the youngest (his junior by at least five years), and the most beautiful woman in the room. Probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Abigail Holland, RN, MSN, CEN. Blonde hair, blue eyes, long legs, the strangest accent he’d ever heard. Not quite southern, not quite west coast Cali girl. She’d been brought in as an expert on primary care deficiencies and for some reason the Senator Feinstein insisted Dan go in her stead, despite health policy being 100% not his area of expertise or interest.

Everyone noticed her pillowy lips but Dan had noticed her smile, the way she tried not to appear intimidated, surrounded by politicians and political players alike. She was clearly out of her comfort zone as well. He didn’t miss the once over McDonough had given her, how it disgusted him a married man could be so blatantly attracted to someone else.

They’d been inadvertently sent to the background of the meeting, clearly not the key note speakers at this particular luncheon.

“Is it always like this?” She asked quietly.

He chuckled. “Yeah, pretty much. I’m usually sitting against the wall though so this is new for me too.”

She smiled, grateful for companionship. “I’m Abbey. You’re Dan Jones. You work for Senator Feinstein, don’t you?”

He gave her a quizzical look. “How did you know? Is it that obvious?”

She laughed and he felt his heart skip a beat. “No, no. I just...I saw you in her office a couple of months ago. Just in passing.”

“Really?” He couldn’t think of a scenario how he could not have noticed her. “Do you know the Senator?”

“Her granddaughter and I were college roommates. We spent many spring breaks at their house in San Fransisco.” Abbey said. “She and my father were on a couple of committees together when she was in the house.”

“You’re Dad is Dr. Benjamin Holland?” He sputtered. “The director of the NIH?”

“Yep.” She said awkwardly.

“I didn’t know he had a daughter.”

She shrugged. “Four boys ahead of me so, it’s not like it’s all that important. Also I’m a nurse, not an MD, so it’s a stain upon the family name to be sure.”

Dan smirked. “Because you’re the ones actually bedside and know what’s going on with the patient?”

She looked at him, shocked.

“My mom was a nurse.” He clarified.

Her powder blue eyes lit up when grinned. “She must be awful proud of you, making it big in D.C.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m making it big, but yes. She’s your typical Jewish mother. Anytime the Senator makes a big move, she’ll say ‘My son did so and so...’”

“Don’t be too humble now, D.C. is cut throat. People might think you have morals.” Abbey said with faux disgust on her face.

“Not a fan of politicians, are you?”

“I have a healthy enough tolerance.” She countered with a wry smirk.

Dan couldn’t help the smile Abigail brought to his face and was going to tell her so when he was interrupted by McDonough calling an end to the luncheon. He lost her through the crowd, heart sinking at the idea he’d have to find some asinine way of contacting her when he felt something slip into his hands. It was a napkin and it had Abbey’s number on it.

She grinned over her shoulder as she walked away, he smiled back.

He’d agonized over how long to wait to call her, it’d been years since he’d dated, well out of the convoluted dating scene of D.C. it was early, almost six thirty in the evening when he finally dialed her number.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d call me.” She teased. “Hello, Dan.”

“I’d give you some bullshit excuse about being busy with work and not worrying about seeming too interested, but I get the impression lying to you wouldn’t go down so well.” He grinned. “Hey, Abby”

“Am I that easy to read?” She asked with a laugh. “What are you up to?”

“Working, to be honest.” He said dryly. “You?”

“About to leave for work, actually. They’re short tonight and it’s my turn to pull call.” She answered.

“Sorry, do you need to-“

“No, I have a while till I need to clock in. I live around the corner from GW.” She said. “Is it getting late for you?”

“No, technically I’m supposed to be off work and enjoying the weekend but well...”

“Duty calls?” She mused.

“Yeah.” He chuckled breathlessly. “Something like that. Do you work tomorrow night?”

“No. I’m off till Tuesday after tonight, thank the gods.”

“Let’s have a drink.” Dan wondered if he sounded as casual as he hoped he did.

“Alright, when and where?”

“Old Ebbits, eight o’ clock?”

“Sure.” He could hear the smile in her voice and he wonder if she could hear his too.

—

She wore black slacks that accentuated her slim waist and a black lace top he could make a tell tale sight of her bra through, such as was the style for women these days. Christ she made his mouth water.

“Dan.” She greeted, her make up was light, natural. Her blonde hair fell in waves to her back. He wore his nicest jeans and button down. Naturally, people gave them strange looks. He knew she was out of his league, but she didn’t seem to care.

“Hendricks and Tonic, please.” She said to the bartender when asked what she wanted.

“Hungry?” Dan asked.

“Nah, I already ate.” She shrugged. “You?”

“No, I actually remembered to eat today.”

Abby grinned. “It’s a rare day I get to eat lunch, too. Much to my mother’s dismay. All five children grown and out of the house and she can’t seem to kick the habit of ensuring we’re all fed.”

“My mom still sends me care packages like I’m a college freshman.” He joked.

“That’s sweet.” Abby took a sip of her drink. “What kind of nurse is she?”

“Labor and delivery.” He answered.

Abby made a face. “That was my least favorite in school. I passed out in my first delivery. And naturally the OBGYN was buddies with my father so, that was a fun congressional Christmas party.”

Dan winced. “I can only imagine.”

“You never told me what it is you do for the senator.” She said.

“I’m basically a liaison for her intelligence committee.”

“And that’s about all you can tell me, isn’t it?” She ventured.

“You do know your D.C., don’t you?”

She smiled. “So what do you do for fun? Since work is clearly a subject we must steer clear of.”

“It doesn’t bother you I can’t talk about it?” He asked.

“Why should it? Anybody who asks you to jeopardize your position is no friend, Dan. I’d hoped you know that by now.” Abby replied. “Also, we are more than our job designations. For instance, I love to bake, but I’m terrible at making cakes.”

Dan laughed. “Really? Is that a thing?”

“Hey, don’t mock till you’ve had my key lime pie. It’ll make you forget cake is even a thing.”

She grinned.

Dan sipped his whiskey. “I run five miles every morning.”

“I swim.” She replied. “I love the ocean. I was born in Hawaii and lived there till I was 12 while my Dad was in the navy.”

“Never been.”

“You should go sometime.” She joked.

“Yeah, it’s on the bucket list.” Dan smirked. “I grew up outside of Pittsburgh.”

“Steeler Nation?” She rose her brows.

“Of course.”

“My father is a die hard Steelers fan.” She said.

They carried on back and forth, laughing and lightly teasing. Regalling childhood stories of growing up with four older brothers and a single mom in Pittsburgh. Abbey wasn’t what he initially expected, she’d had a job all through public high school, bought her own car, worked during the summers in college. Her father paid for her BSN from Chapel Hill, but she went on for her masters of nursing directly after graduating. She was 27 and head charge nurse of one the most prestigious hospitals in the nation. Dan made a perfect score on his SAT and took a full ride to Elizabethtown, earning his masters from John’s Hopkins and his post doc from Harvard. He grew up Jewish, but only attended temple on high holy days and definitely did not keep kosher. His father had died in a car accident when he was three and his mom remarried a nice guy when he was in college. David owned a landscaping company and treated his mom like she was gold so Dan couldn’t complain.

“Walk me home?” She asked. “But just so you know I won’t be inviting you up for coffee. I do have my standards, Dr. Jones.”

“I expect no less, Miss Holland.”

She lived four blocks from the bar in a nice neighborhood, clearly her salary out ranged his, not that it bothered him. They laughed and joked more, especially when he made a pop culture reference she didn’t understand.

“Hey! You’ve got like five years on me!” Abbey joked defensively.

“Almost seven, actually.” He looked down into her smiling eyes when she came to a halt in front of her townhome. “Nice place.”

“My brother, Anders, owns it, he rents it to me cheap.” She shrugged. “Well, cheap for D.C. anyway. And he lets me keep Frog.”

Dan gave her an incredulous expression. “Frog?”

She grinned. “My cat.”

“You have a cat named Frog?”

“Are you gonna kiss me or what-“

Before she could finish the sentence, he swooped in and kissed her. Gently at first, then as Abby leaned into it Dan wound his arms around her deepened the kiss. She tasted like tonic and cherries and he thought he’d died and gone to heaven at how soft her lips actually were. They were both a bit breathless when they broke apart.

“What are you doing Sunday?” She asked.

“Working, though I could be persuaded otherwise.” He chided.

“Come over for dinner.” She said. “I’ll make you something, however there will not be sex for you in lieu of dessert.”

“How can a man refuse such an offer.” He laughed. “Should I bring anything?”

“Frog is kind of mean. A cat toy would not go amiss.”

“Ever think it’s because you named him Frog?” Dan joked, brushing her cheek with his thumb.

Abby rolled her eyes benignly. “Everyone says that!”

Dan kisses her gently once more. “Goodnight, Abby.”

“Good night, Dan.” She smiled, unlocking her door and disappearing from sight.

As he hailed a cab, Dan couldn’t get rid of the grin stuck on his face.

#thereport #adamdriver #danjones #adamdriverthirsty #dan x reader #dan jones x reader #adam driver x reader

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goldeneyedgirl · 5 years ago

Text

Fic-Mas Bonus Round: Hybrid, Again

Yeah, I lied XD Christmas Eve bonus round! And because everyone seemed really enthusiastic about this fic, I picked two chunks of Hybrid for you all. (And if I were to consider Fic-Mas: NYE Edition, I’d definitely like to know what you would all like more of - your choices are more Hybrid, any of the Unexpected Second Life fics, All These Broken Things, or seeing if I can dig up something from Memento Mori.)

Onwards!

(This happens before Jasper bites Alice, after Alice’s first day at Forks High.)

Dinner that night was quiet – Dad and Simon seemed worried about my first day of school when I hadn’t reported making loads of friends, and loving everything about Forks High; I had chosen to omit my interactions with Edward Cullen and Rosalie Hale when they asked.

Cynthia did most of the talking during the meal, and was slowly painting me a picture of her life – she was a good student, very popular, and loved any sort of club or co-curricular. Definitely a joiner. And absolutely bursting with excitement to start ninth grade next year, and finally be in high school.

“So, who did you hang out with today?” Cynthia finally turned to me. Her dinner plate was barely touched – she’d been talking too much to eat – whilst I was on my second helping.

“I didn’t,” I said, stabbing a piece of carrot.

“Really?” Cynthia frowned. “Who did you sit with at lunch?”

I wanted to smile at her middle-school view of the world. As if there was nothing more horrifying than sitting alone at lunch. And then I wanted to punch something because in a town this small, Cynthia probably had more friends at Forks High than I would ever have, and she was only fourteen.

“I went to the library. I need to catch up in a few subjects,” I shrugged. “And the cafeteria food was really bad.”

“It’s nice to know that things don’t change,” Simon chuckled. “Forks High always made the worst mac and cheese known to man. That stuff was a hate crime.”

“You said you weren’t behind in your classes,” Dad said to me, frowning. I guess as a teacher himself, the idea of his own daughter failing her classes was a pretty bad one, though I was a little curious why Cynthia and I attended a local public school when Dad taught at a fancy private school.

“Just a chapter or two in Algebra, and I think a little in Biology,” I said. “Nothing that I can’t get caught up in.”

“Okay, but if you find yourself overwhelmed or really behind, we can get you a tutor over the summer,” Dad said. “I looked over your transcripts, there are some gaps in your schoolwork we’ll have to address at some point.”

That was a polite way of putting it. There weren’t gaps in my schoolwork, there were great gaping holes. Even from before Mom died. But afterwards, there was foster care, time on the streets, my time at the hospital – I don’t think I ever technically attended sixth or eighth grade.

“You have your doctor’s appointment in the morning, Alice,” Simon jumped in. “I had an in with the best doctor in town, and he agreed to see you tomorrow first thing. Just so we can get your medications sorted.”

“Great,” I said unenthusiastically. Another doctor, paging through my endless file claiming I was completely bat-shit nuts. I knew I’d been living on borrowed time as far as medical intervention went. There was an entire pharmacy of psychiatric meds locked up in Dad and Simon’s room that the hospital had sent with me.

Simon had been overwhelmed by the sheer number of them, and the three pages of contradictory instructions, that he’d decided not to drug me until we spoke to a doctor in Forks. Which was definitely a good thing, since the medications the hospital had me on left me drooling into my pillow most of the time.

Or screaming for help.

“Carlisle is a really good doctor,” Simon said kindly, obviously seeing the look on my face. “Actually, an amazing doctor. Way better than we should be able to get out in the sticks. And he’s a good person – he won’t do anything that doesn’t sound right to him, and you’re comfortable with. I promise.”

“Everyone says that,” I said, suddenly full and wishing I hadn’t eaten quite so much. “They say, ‘We just want what’s best for you, Mary-Alice’. Then they find out I stabbed a doctor and they can’t sedate me fast enough.”

Rice fell out of Cynthia’s mouth when I said that. “You stabbed someone?” she said, her eyes wide.

“Cynthia,” Dad warned, but all eyes were on me.

Cynthia ignored him. “Why?” she asked, leaning forward. And I felt it, like something physical that wrapped itself around me. The memories; the fear and complete hopelessness. It was like I was being smothered. As if my ghosts weren’t already carved into my skin permanently, where everybody could see.

“Cynthia, enough,” Simon said sternly.

“No one ever cares about the why,” I said softly, looking at the placemats, a swirling pattern of orange and red. I remembered doing it, grabbing the little plastic scalpel, slashing from his ear to his chin, and being dragged away. Being drugged, strapped down and ignored, like some kind of animal; nobody ever asked me why I’d done such a thing, just assuming that it was my fault. “Can I be excused?”

“Certainly,” Dad said, looking worried. “Do you want us to bring you up some dessert?”

“Key-lime pie,” Simon offered. “My mom made it, so not quite as good as mine, but still worthy.”

I shook my head. “No thanks.”

I slipped out of the dining room and upstairs, pausing on the stairwell to hear Dad and Simon lecturing Cynthia about pushing too hard and asking too many questions. That I had had a very hard life, whilst hers had been comfortable and happy.

Sometimes, everything that had happened hit me like a truck, and I just… I kind of just went through the motions. Locked every emotion down so that I didn’t have to deal with any of it. The pain, the terror, the complete misery. It was easier just to feel nothing.

I showered and climbed into bed, the scent of flowers wrapping around me. I thought about asking Simon for one of my sleeping pills, but that required energy and interaction, neither were things that I was up for.

Instead, I just curled into a ball and pretended to sleep when Dad and Simon checked on me, separately, later. I didn’t manage to fall asleep until much later, after everyone else had gone to bed, slipping into soupy dreams of white rooms and not being able to move.

And then the dreamscape changed, clicking into place.

A vision.

There was no specific way I could tell the difference between a dream and a vision of the future, but I always knew the difference. I had no control over them – some nights, it would be an unending string of visions to wade through, and then nothing for weeks at a time. Mom had tried everything, but there was no way to instigate them, or to choose who or what I would see. Whatever my gift was, it did what it wanted.

I was in a living room with fancy art on the walls, and a piano in the entry way.

The vampires were gathered there – Rosalie Hale and curly haired bear-man were seated on the couch, though she looked agitated enough to jump up and pace at any second. A slightly older woman with light brown hair was seated at a small writing desk, tapping away at a laptop absently, with her attention on the group; Edward Cullen was standing with a light-haired man in front of an actual marble fireplace. And the blonde-boy was sitting in the window, staring out into the night.

“Does she know?” the man asked the red-headed boy with a gentle, patient manner that I wanted to like immediately.

“I don’t know,” Edward said, looking frustrated. “Her thoughts jumped around a lot. She never thought ‘vampire’. But she was alarmed by us.”

“What did you hear?” the woman asked, closing the laptop.

“At lunch, she hated the food, wasn’t particularly impressed with Forks in general, happier to be with her father and his family that she’d admit to herself. Then it was alarm bells, her trying to work out an escape plan. She was very, very concerned about Bella and her safety.”

“She warned Bella, verbally,” Rosalie pointed out. “To be careful.”

“Hm. And you had a class with her? Was she well then?” the man asked Edward.

“Distressed. She had scars that were seen by others when she was changing. Bella said that they were ‘bad’, over her back and her thighs. The other girls were focusing on a particularly nasty one on the back of her leg, so I don’t know the extent. I heard something about a hospital, and when I mentioned hospitals in passing, she became agitated.”

“I spoke with her step-father, and he expressed concern over her psychological state. Apparently, she’s had a history of mental illness and abuse, and he wanted someone he trusted to see her and work out how to help,” the man said. “From her records, she’s quite disturbed, though he repeatedly assured me that her behavior has been absolutely normal since she arrived.” The man looked over at the boy in the window. “Jasper, did you notice anything?”

He looked over. “Curiosity, agitation, worry, depression – the usual teenage maelstrom,” he said slowly, disinterestedly.

“If she’s mentally unbalanced, it wouldn’t be hard to stage an ‘accident’,” Rosalie said archly. “We wouldn’t even have to move; it could just be one of those things. She wouldn’t be much of a loss.”

“Would be pretty rough on her family,” the big guy murmured, holding his hands up when Rosalie shot him a look. “Just sayin’, Rose. She only just got here.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about her that much, just yet,” the man said finally. “It’s always a possibility, but Edward, you didn’t hear her identify us; some humans are just more in-tune to their instincts. And there’s a possibility that her medical status can be used to our advantage if she becomes a problem.”

“What about Bella?” Edward asked immediately.

“If Bella could befriend her, that would allow you more access to what she’s thinking. That would be enough for the time being,” he concluded. “At a rough guess, I doubt Mary-Alice Brandon is going to pose much of a problem.”

Edward spun around to Jasper, a glare on his face. “Really?” he snapped.

“What?” the woman stood up, looking worried. I wondered if that was her default state of being.

“He thinks she smelt delicious,” Edward spat.

“Another singer?” the man stepped forward, looking downright alarmed.

Jasper heaved a sigh and shook his head. “No, nothing like that,” he said, in that slow, dull manner. “Just a stray thought. Nothing will happen, I promise.”

“Maybe Bella should stay away for a few days,” Edward said grouchily, still giving Jasper a filthy look.

“Leave him alone, Edward,” Rosalie snapped.

“Please, like you wouldn’t break him into little pieces if he slipped up again,” Edward snapped back, and Jasper rolled his eyes and stood up to leave.

“Are we done?” he asked, and when the man nodded, he left the room, leaving the others to bicker in peace; everyone slowly faded away as my vision turned back into my dreams.

(This scene is far in the future - like Ch 13. This thing is The Slowest Burn.)

My pitching was clearly stronger than they anticipated; at least, the surprise on Emmett’s face as the ball smacked into the palm of his hand implied so. It obviously wasn’t as impressive as the pitches thrown by Rosalie or Jasper, but still better than they expected.

Of course, once all the Cullens acquiesced to my participation in the baseball game, Edward vocally encouraged Bella to join in as well.

“If Alice is playing, Bella can play,” was his argument, whilst Bella stood at his side, looking uncomfortable. Hell, she always looked uncomfortable. I wondered if anyone had ever introduced her to the concept of sweatpants and ice cream.

“Alice is less likely to drop dead if she takes a fastball to the face,” Rosalie scowled. I eyeballed the blonde; that statement felt very much like Rosalie was trying to work out how to dispose of me.

“Fractured skull at best,” I agreed serenely.

“Bella is still rehabbing her leg, Edward,” Carlisle said gently.

It happened in a second; the ball sailed from Edward’s hands, and Bella swung. She swung too early, and the ball flew past and cracked her across the face. I heard her gasp of pain, of the blood that seeped from her nose instantly, the sound of the bat hitting the soft ground.

And I looked around to see five hungry vampires staring at the blood that was pouring from her nose, Bella’s hands cupped over her face.

Esme and Rosalie were backing away; Esme’s face was concerned but strained, whilst Rosalie’s was blank – her attention was on Emmett, who had taken two steps forward before retreating, his eyes completely black.

Edward and Carlisle were focused on Bella – a broken nose was one of the few injuries I hadn’t sustained over the years, but I could tell from Bella’s reaction that it was excruciatingly painful. The smell of blood was beginning to affect me, I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be for…

For Jasper.

I looked over and he was still standing there, completely still.

If I had thought that he had looked feral the night that he attacked me, I was mistaken. He had still looked human then – sinister, terrifying and dangerous but still essentially human.

Now I was glimpsing the monster behind the man.

His eyes were, somehow, blacker than Emmett’s, and dull. His face was completely devoid of any kind of emotion, his gaze focused on Bella. I could picture his muscles tensing for the attack, and with a sick feeling, realized that Bella probably wouldn’t be the only one hurt today. No one else had picked up on Jasper’s intentions yet, and I was incredibly aware that I couldn’t stop him.

But I could certainly slow him down.

I darted across the field, my hair whipping across my face, and flung myself at Jasper, my arms wrapping around his waist. It didn’t escape my notice that this was the closest we had gotten physically, and I was trying to stop him committing murder.

“Please don’t, please don’t,” I chanted to myself. “Jasper! Stop it!” I finally cried out as he began to move forward, dragging me with him, and Edward finally looked up at the sound of my voice.

Jasper shook me off fairly easily, without looking down, and I knew I had to go into full fight-mode; it didn’t matter who or what Jasper was to me, I had to pull him back from killing Bella.

My leg shot out, and whilst Jasper stumbled for a second, but righted himself. I could hear Emmett and Rosalie yelling in the background, and when I looked around, Jasper’s fist came out of nowhere and caught me in the side of the head. For a second, I was seeing stars, and then I was back – Jasper had managed to get Emmett and Edward tangled in each other, Rosalie and Esme were hovering between where Carlisle stood with Bella.

#TwilightFicMas2019 #twilight fic #twilight #alice cullen #jasper hale #cullen family #my writing #my fic: hybrid #surprise bonus round #jalice #alicexjasper

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tricksheart · 5 years ago

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Send me “HC” + a word and I’ll write a headcanon about it.( sweets ).

Even though society tells everyone that boys shouldn’t like sweets, Akira does anyway. He likes the more obscure desserts like lemon meringue and key lime pie. Both sweets don’t have a generic crust but comes with graham cracker crumbs instead because he doesn’t anything that really has a shell to it.

Macaroons are also a favorite of his because of all of the unique flavors, like pistachio & raspberry, and they remind him of miniature cakes. Plus, they are aesthetically pleasing to the eye. Akira likes setting them up in a little row or in a formation, taking a few pictures, and sending them to Instagram & Pintrest.

He’s not too fond with cookies but gets made if you steal or take one right out of his hands. People in his life previously have done this too many times to count. It’s mostly his pride getting in the way but he just won’t let it go. It’s been months but he’s really upset at this turn of events.

SEND ME “HC” + A WORD AND I’LL WRITE A HEADCANON ABOUT IT. ( FOOD ).

Akira, for the lack of a better word, is a very picky eater. A few moments in the game indicate as such, even with a funny final fantasy xv joke about beans. He rather have udon and ramen instead of the gross thing his friends Ann and Ryuji had mentioned SEVERAL times. Also, he ransacked the sweets counter and ignored basically everything else when visiting the very EXPENSIVE upscale restaurant. The boy don’t fool around with choosing his personal favorites.

He hates any kind of vegetable, save a tiny portion, but lies to Haru just because he wants to have something in common with her, cause you know, a fool does anything for a person he falls in love with. Akira has straight-down lied to people to make them happy, even eating foods that they recommend. It usually ends with send him straight into the restroom to up-heave the nasty piece of shit that he ate. All so he could impress someone.

Also, Akira hates when people find out that he is a picky eater and tell him to grow up. Mostly the adults in his life have given him grief of being ‘such a child’ and how Akira doesn’t have any real taste. He has made his mind up that he’s going to be picky until the day his kicks the bucket. His grave will read; ‘fuck ya’all! You can’t tell me what to do! #pickyeaters4ever!’.

RELATIONSHIP HEADCANON #1 Thoughts about why (my) Akira has a interest in Haru Okumura/Noir.

First, a little bit about his backstory. Akira got sent away from his hometown and into shujin academy because of an assault & battery case. The real reason why he had a scuffle / confrontation with Shido, with Shido getting ‘hurt’ / suing Akira, is because the politician was harassing a woman. In which Akira still wonders if saving that woman was the right idea. She did change her story / cover up because of Shido’s influence. The woman rather had saved her own skin than to defend some high school kid who was trying to save her. Chivalry is dead in the society Akira lives in. Everyone is looking after their own-selves. He secretly hates the woman who sold him out. This is also a reason why he doesn’t trust people who sell him out betray him. Bunch of spineless cowards in his mind.

Jump a few months, and Akira is once again faced in a similar situation. A greedy person, which is Haru Okumura’s father, is basically marrying her to a guy just for political favors. And it’s basically up to Akira and the rest to make the father changes his ways / change his heart like most palace heists. At first, Akira is very much hesitating because he knows that happened in a similar situation but he finds Haru not willing to cower at the things that are said towards her during the time spent in the shadow palace.

That she WASN’T going to just sit there and take all the abuse anymore. That she was rebelling and obtaining a backbone. Something that Akira wishes that more people do, including the woman from his past. All of that makes her attractive in his eyes. Personality and the willingness to become braver is what he likes the most in a person. It doesn’t help that Haru’s a complete sweetheart and a bit naive but he’s really invested in having a very close relationship with her. Plus, she cute and is basically a good role model ( since Akira has no real mature relationships with anyone, even his parents ) so he’s quite drawn to her.

Of all the girls in his phantom thieves, Haru Okumura is the one he considers on marrying ( in the future of course. They are only still in high school ) because it’s the first time he’s happy with the outcome. On how Haru beat the odds and became free. And that’s something Akira loves to see.

Four headcanons for character’s relationships. ( Yu and Akira ).

1. Akira really looks up to Yu but really doesn’t know how to approach him because Yu’s face by default is normally stoic whenever Akira is around. Yu probably can see right through Akira’s ruse of being absentminded and can tell that he’s a little shit.

2. Akira really likes hanging out with Yu but usually gets ignored because the other can’t be bothered when thinking about his friends and Nanako. Mostly about Nanako. Or that Akira tends to get super annoying to anyone who doesn’t pay attention to his jokes or silly antics.

3. Yu and Akira get sent to a chalk bored by Dojima frequently. Hanging out with Akira has been a bad influence on Yu since he has to yet again write that he won’t be friends with delinquents. Akira has to write that burning down the Dojima residence while trying to cook with a persona is deeply frowned upon.

4. Akira finds Yu to be a worthy opponent when fighting in the arena/ultimax but that’s the only time Akira really wants to fight him. He’s a bit of a down to fight guy but Akira’s more focused on his heists than fighting allies. He’s not above taunting and 1-uping Yu when it’s applies to the situation though.

#shuharu for ts #shuharu: tw #long post: tw #not really shuharu but it mentions why he likes her;;#[ we call them TRICKSTERS. HEADCANON ]#reworking my old hc's from my old blog and making them shorter because the tag dump ones were so long to read;;

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queerchoicesblog · 6 years ago

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One Coffee And A Life Lesson (OH, Harper x F!MC)

So, since we will probably have the chance to have a proper chat with Dr. Harper Emery, the dashing Chief of Medicine of Edenbrook Hospital in OH book 3, here’s a fic with a hint of Harper x MC. I mean, we get Ethan, why can’t we get her too? xD

Obviously, since we barely get to see her and she’s the Chief, I could only picture their relationship as a slow-burn. So here we have Meredith (obviously MC xD) and Harper sitting down for a friendly chat and Dr. Emery gives the intern a piece of advice.

Disclaimer: This fic contains references to panic attacks, loss...and on a brighter note, hints to my personal theory about the reasons behind the breakup between Harper and Ethan.

Word Count: 1778

Perma Tag: @brightpinkpeppercorn @bbaba-yagaa @abunchofbadchoices @silverhawkenzie @bhavf @begging-for-kamilah @melodyofgraves @crazypeanat @kennaxval @strangerofbraidwood

Harper Tag: the one and only @korrasamixlover 💕

__________________________

It was a bright new day at Edenbrook Hospital and Dr. Valentine was walking towards her next patient's room, scanning their chart on the way when she felt suddenly lightheaded. She blinked twice and headed towards the wall for support. Her heart started pounding in her chest leaving her short of breath.

As she was almost there, someone carefully placed a hand behind her back.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just-" Meredith said, hoping to sound as reassuring as possible and way more confident than she actually felt at that very moment.

She turned towards the kind stranger to see the Chief of Medicine supporting her and scanning her face.

Crap!, she thought. Who else would it be if not the Chief I’m supposed to impress, huh? My lucky day...

"I don't mean to alarm you, Valentine, but you're getting paler." Dr. Emery said, brows furrowing in slight concern. "Why don't you take a seat and take some deep breaths? Will you do that for me?" she added guiding her to a seat.

"I'm fine, really..." Meredith politely protested but as her legs threatened to fail she did as the woman said and took a seat.

Harper gestured one of the nurses to get a glass of water then she handed it to Meredith, sitting beside her.

"Thank you" the intern said, her hands shaking a little as she reached the plastic cup. "Gosh, this is embarrassing" she winced, blushing slightly.

"You have nothing to have been ashamed" the other woman commented.

Then she gave her a clinical look and inquired, dropping the tone of her voice:

"Have you ever suffered from panic attacks?"

Meredith turned and gaped.

"No! No...I mean, not so far!"

Harper checked if anyone was even involuntarily eavesdropping their conversation then smiled apologetically.

"I know you have a lot going on, the pressure of the competition, your patients, your rounds...you're surely dealing with a significant amount of stress and situations like this can trigger panic attacks. You feel overwhelmed as if the world is on your shoulders and you crumble under his we-"

"But I can't have panic attacks! I'm gonna be a doctor!" Meredith interrupted her, eyes widened with concerns.

Dr. Emery took a deep breath and checked the time on her watch. Then she turned to the intern again and offered her a hand:

"Come with me"

Meredith looked at her in disbelief.

"My break starts in five minutes and I bet you skipped your breakfast this morning, am I right?"

Meredith diverted her eyes.

"Typical" Harper rolled her eyes then offered her a smile to signal she wasn't mad at her. "Every single intern makes this mistake sooner or later. Let's head to the cafeteria, I need a coffee too".

----------------

Twenty minutes later Dr. Emery placed a steaming mug and plate in front of a frowning Meredith.

"Coffee and key lime pie. My favorite"

"I...you really didn't have to, Dr. Emery, I'm so sorry-"

"Quit apologizing, Valentine, and please, grab a bite of that pie" Emery ordered, but the look on her face wasn't stern

Meredith obliged and the taste of lime and cream exploded in her mouth. It was her first snack since...yesterday's lunch.

"I must admit, I was hoping to get to know Ethan's favorite"

Dr. Emery gave her an unreadable smile. Am I in trouble?, she thought. As she tried to find the right words to answer that, the other woman spoke again:

"Don’t act so surprised, it's rather obvious. I'm sure you've noticed how grumpy Ethan is and he's all smiles and kind words around you."

Is she jealous? I should have expect-

"Generally, everyone who dares to make him reason getting in the way of his devoted mission to save the world receives only scolds and harsh words" she explained, breaking eye contact to stare into the distance.

Meredith couldn't refrain herself from wondering if the Chief talked from experience. And if she diverted her eyes to hide a wound.

"Hm, we all took the Oath of Hippocrates...what's wrong with wanting to save lives?" she tried to articulate her thoughts.

Harper turned back to her.

"Nothing, Valentine." she smiled weakly. "Unless it becomes an obsession"

Meredith wasn't expecting that kind of answer.

"What do you mean? If...if I may ask"

"Listen, Valentine, I don't know what you've heard of me or what Ethan told you about me, but-" the other woman started saying but stopped mid-sentence as if pondering her next words.

She took a sip of her coffee before speaking again, her voice calm and steady as usual.

"I'll tell you a story. Now I'm a quite famous neurosurgeon-"

"The greatest surgeon of your generation" Meredith beamed.

Harper gave her a quick smile, recognizing the words every intern had whispered about her for ages in complete awe, probably hoping to be like her one day.

"Reaching the top wasn't easy. It's a male-dominated environment and requires absolute devotion to your career. You're forced to sacrifice much to follow that dream. But that's not what I meant to say now." she cleared her throat as if to push away unpleasant thoughts or memories.

"Back at the time, I was making quite an impression in the medical world and my boss probably wanted to test me. I was assigned to a pretty tough case, to put it mildly. A young patient with a grave illness requiring a very complicated surgery. Alexander Evans, that was the guy's name. I studied his case for weeks and I was about to prove my talent to the world and hopefully help Alex start a new, happier life. All I had to do, all he needed was in my hands"

Harper took a pause. She looked straight into Meredith's eyes.

"Do you wanna know what happened?"

The intern nodded.

"The day of the surgery, I was standing by the sink in the antechamber of the operating room and my hands were shaking. Shaking badly. It never happened to me before. I started spiraling down and my heart was racing in my chest. I had a panic attack. I'd spent weeks immersed in Alexander's papers and charts, I empathized with him, I got involved with his story, his suffering...I wanted to free him from his ordeal: I felt I had that power but out of the blue, as I was washing my arms out of routine a thought crossed my head. What if I fail? Alex would die or keep living an awful life and it would be my fault only" she lowered her eyes, reminiscing her younger self.

When she raised them again, she continued.

"In the end, the operation was a success, but we almost lost him once. I did the best I could, we all did the best we could and Alex still sends me Christmas wishes every year. He invited me over for a family dinner when I was in Phoenix for a conference. Do you wanna know what made me stop shaking and walk through that door? It was my mentor. He spotted me struggling and came to me. He grabbed my hands and held them until I calmed down" Dr. Emery mimed that gestured taking Meredith hands into hers "He asked me to take deep breaths then met my gaze and told me a truth I've cherished through all these years. The only real medical truth I know: to save a life you have to save yourself first. Let your demons get to you and you're done."

"You're telling me to keep my demons at bay..?"

Dr. Emery withdrew her hands suddenly aware that someone might have been watching.

"Who do you wanna be, Valentine?"

"A good doctor" Meredith answered without thinking twice. There was a fierce determination in her voice.

"Then don't let fear overwhelm you and cloud your judgment. Work hard, go above and beyond to cure your patients or to ease their suffering but don't become obsessed with it. Save as many lives you can but learn where to stop and accept the inevitable. That's the toughest lesson to learn in our field of work, I assure you. Mourn your losses when it happens and walk in the day after: you can still make a difference in someone's life. But please...remember we're human, not Gods. And this world is hardly fair. Carry it upon your shoulders and you will only succeed in hurting yourself. You'd be on way to become the angry version of yourself, mad at the world for not playing by the rules and frightened by failure. But you are not alone, you’re never alone: don’t let pride or some absurd self-martyrdom plan prevent you from asking for help if needed"

"Are you telling me to be careful with Dr. Ramsey as he has some kind of Atlas syndrome?" Meredith tentatively asked, thinking back to the initial rudeness of her mentor and the desperate determination in his eyes when he told her about Naveen. Maybe it was all making sense now...

Dr. Emery stood, her professional look was back on her face.

"Let's say, this was just a friendly life lesson, Valentine" she gave the intern a polite smile. "I'm afraid my break is over and so is yours."

Meredith would have never got another word from the Chief of Medicine, it was clear. So she thanked her once again for the snack and the talk.

However, Harper was walking towards the door when she stopped and turned towards the intern once more.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Willow and Rowan would like to thank you personally before they start the experimental treatment you signed them up for"

Meredith met her gaze. Before she could think twice another question crossed her mind and left her lips.

"Did you go to Alexander's family dinner? When you were in Phoenix..."

Harper was caught off guard but didn't lose her composure. Her voice was slightly softer than usual when she answered:

"Of course I did. Alexander is an excellent cook"

Meredith flashed her a bright smile: she was secretly hoping to hear that.

"Thank you, Dr. Emery. I'll meet Rowan and Willow as soon as I finish my rounds".

The Chief nodded and headed towards an elevator. As the door closed the hint of a smile still lingered on her lips. After all, Ethan's favorite wasn't bad at all.

#open heart #harper emery #Harper emery x mc #if they mistreat female lis fanfic is there #playchoices #choices fanfic

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apparitionism · 5 years ago

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Mercury 11

This is basically just one scene. It was going to be more (and this scene was going to be better), but I’m being fussy about what follows it, so I figured some content, sooner, was better than more later. (Some previous content: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, and part 10.) I was additionally having a little hiccup of trouble figuring out exactly how to start this part... but “in the middle of things” is usually a good rule, particularly when the “things” in question are important, so “in medias pie” it is!

(P.S. to anon who asked about a masterpost: That’s too much housekeeping for me. But you’ll find I’m diligent with tags, plus my tumblr has search and an archive, so you shouldn’t have to scroll too much. Also, much of my stuff can indeed be found on AO3, where I move it after posting on Tumblr, usually with copy and/or content edits, depending on what seems warranted. Thanks for asking!)

Mercury 11

“But this pie,” Myka said with her mouth full.

“Has rendered you ill-mannered and inarticulate,” Helena said. “Interesting.”

“And here I thought demolishing cars was gonna be the entertainment,” Pete added.

They all had to work hard to be heard over the soundtrack provided by the derby: the roar of engines, the sharp bang and crunch of metal colliding with metal at speed, the shouts of extremely invested spectators. Myka had been paying some attention to it before she embarked on this trip to pastry-girded key-lime paradise. She hadn’t had any idea that bliss was in fact a combination of citrus and... whatever other things it was combined with, here in this very-nearly-literal slice-of-heaven pie, but Pete was right: this had been a really educational trip.

Ida said, “This is closer to what I’d call a show.”

“Here in Wisconsin?” Pete asked.

“Anywhere. Is she always like this about pie?”

“I’ve only known her five years,” Pete said, “but I think it’s safe to go with ‘never in her life has she been like this about pie.’ Or maybe anything.”

“Well,” Helena began.

“Don’t say it,” Pete advised.

Ida temporized, “She doesn’t need to. Everyone understands innuendo. And subtext.”

Myka didn’t care, not even a little—not about the kind of show she was putting on, not about how innuendo-y and subtext-y Helena was getting with regard to what Myka might find heavenly in other contexts—as long as nobody took this miracle of a pie away.

She certainly hadn’t expected this to be the outcome when she, Helena, and Pete had taken the lengthy walk—thankfully, in their normal configuration, with Myka reclaiming her “run interference” slot between Helena and Pete—to the site of the demolition derby, some distance away from the fairgrounds proper, accompanied by what had seemed like an additional fair’s worth of people. Were these things really so popular? Maybe Pete was right, maybe “the IRS” should sponsor one in Univille. For purposes of general sociability, because for all Myka didn’t like the place, she did still care what its denizens thought of her, and if—“Bet these’re cow pastures in real life,” Pete had said, interrupting her speculation. That prompted Myka to start taking careful note of where she was placing her feet during that long walk along not a path as such, but rather through grass that had been marked at irregular intervals with spray-painted arrows.

“You’re so prissy,” Pete said.

Myka shrugged that off. “Maybe. But cows. Or rabbits. Nobody with sense in their head want to walk in anything they leave behind.”

Helena said, to Pete, “Are you as unnerved by bovines as you are by lagomorphs?”

As a dig, it seemed mild, even polite, but Pete reacted as if she’d reached across Myka and slapped him. “Leave me alone! I’m not scared of anything unless it’s freakishly huge!”

They were passing the cars’ inspection area: the same spray paint had been applied to a piece of plywood, leaning against a fence enclosing those cars, to spell “INSP AREA.” It could have meant “inspiration area,” Myka supposed, but people with clipboards had seemed to be inspecting rather than inspiring, or being inspired... she tried to think of another word that began with “insp.” Nothing came to her.

“Size-wise,” she told Pete, “the bumpers on that Sable over there must be giving you nightmares already.”

Pete looked where she’d indicated. He did a cartoon double-take. “Are those even legal? I think I just found my horse.”

“I like the Pinto next to it,” Myka said.

He scoffed, “Nobody likes a Pinto.”

“The ponies enjoyed a brief vogue when I was a girl,” Helena mused, as if to herself. “Would that the car were painted like those...it’s a shame that a pinto—and, in fact, a sable—shouldn’t resemble their namesake animals in some way.”

Myka said, “I guess we can call my Pinto a Palomino, then. The color’s why I like it.”

“That’s not a good reason,” Pete said. “Not for a demo derby.”

“It’s a great reason. Look.” Myka pointed toward a corral ringed with bleachers. “There’s a lot of mud over there, where I assume they’ll do the demolishing, right?”

Pete nodded. “Mud slows ’em down. Safer, plus it’s a better show. Upset it’s gonna be such a messy show, Miss Prissy?”

“My point is, the Pinto’s yellow, so I’ll be able to keep track of it through the muck, while it does its demo-ing. Or gets demo-ed. As I watch it happen, because I’ve got a horse—almost literally—too. Do you want me interested or not?”

He glanced at the Pinto, then looked back at Myka. “Not sure,” he said, like he thought she was trying to trick him.

“You wanted us here so bad you won it,” she reminded him.

“Mostly wanted to make you suffer.”

“Then I think your win is more of a ‘win,’ because I refuse to suffer,” Myka told him. “Not about this.”

She was holding Helena’s hand. She had been, for the entire walk, “because I didn’t get to on the Ferris wheel,” she’d said when she first reached for the contact, her voiced reason in response to Helena’s questioning did-you-not-recently-express-objection-to-public-displays eyebrow, and it was true as far as it went. But what had compelled Myka to make the small display, really, was that she’d needed something, and this was simple. Uncomplicated. Something to bank against whatever was going to happen later, in the hotel room. Which she was, she had to admit to herself, doing some pre-suffering about. Because she didn’t know.

Helena declared, as if to assure Myka that she too felt both the simplicity and the need for it, “I’m not suffering either. Not about this.”

She gripped Myka’s hand tighter. It did feel good. Myka echoed the pressure, and one corner of Helena’s mouth curved up.

Pete rolled his eyes. “You two are gonna wish so hard that Myka won that duck bet.”

“It was a bet that concerned ducks?” Helena asked.

Myka grimaced. “I’ll tell you later.”

“I wonder,” Helena said, jauntily, “whether the poultry competition might include a Rouen or two.”

“I’m gonna regret this, but: okay. That’s a...?” Pete prompted.

“Giant mallard,” Helena said, with even greater cheer. Pete groaned, and Myka found herself wanting to kiss Helena: for being clever, but also as yet another instance of that bankable, uncomplicated touch. She almost said that out loud—“I want to kiss you,” simple, like that—but she understood that if she did, she’d have to deal with Pete about it. Because of ducks.

“Well, I don’t see any of your probably-made-up freak-ducks around,” Pete said. He added a taunt of, “I do see the two of you practically sittin’ in a tree, though.”

“Mature,” Myka said.

“Water off a Rouen’s back!” Helena announced.

Her insouciance made Myka again want contact, like a kiss, but more than that—but still simple. Basic. The most basic.

Pete must have seen and read that thought as it crossed Myka’s mind, crossed her face, for he said, “Jesus, Mykes, just jump her and get it over with. Get yourselves behind the bleachers and take care of business.”

Nobody had taken care of any behind-the-bleachers business, of course, but Myka had kept on holding Helena’s hand, even as they sat on the uncomfortable aluminum of those bleachers and listened to engines rev in preparation for entering the corral. Pete had taken it upon himself to explain the derby’s rules to Helena: “...and they all go in and they have to hit another car every minute, or maybe it’s every two, but anyway if your engine bonks out you get a little while to try to restart it but if you can’t you’re out, and they break that piece of wood by your window to show that you...” Myka listened with one ear, but mostly she concentrated on not finding a reason to loosen her clasp. The interlacing of their fingers had moved from “this feels good” to Helena’s barely fleshed bones pressing too solid against Myka’s, giving rise to an uncomfortable ache... but that ache was no reason to let go; rather, it was a reminder not to. Bodies, real ones, felt pain. So Myka sat on aluminum, listening to engines rev, not letting go. Banking it.

She’d been banking it, still, when Ida arrived, asking, “How did we ever live without the ability to text?” (Pete had said, as they sat down, that he would text Ida to join them, “because maybe she’s done with judgy-judge-judge and can bring us some leftovers.”) She’d looked at Myka and Helena—specifically, looked at their joined hands. “Well,” she said. “Another distraction?”

“Maybe,” Myka acknowledged. From something freakishly huge...

“How are you?” Ida asked Helena. “Did your summit go well?”

Helena smiled at the word. “As well as such a thing could. I suppose one might call the outcome détente,” she said. Myka, too, had smiled a little at “summit,” but as for “détente”... well, there was a lot to be said for that in the relations between several of her nearest and dearest. But she wasn’t sure how she felt about the idea of any relaxing of tensions between Helena and Emily Lake’s girlfriend. “It’s been a very strange two days,” Helena went on to say.

“That isn’t news to me,” Ida said, which prompted in Myka another Amen, sister. Ida added, “But I’ve got something that will make everything better.”

“Fruit spreads?” Pete asked, with great hope. He pointed at the small hamper she held. “That looks like something.”

Ida nodded. “Something. But better than fruit spreads.” From the hamper, she produced—with a “ta-da!”—the key lime pie. Pete gave a gasp that Myka judged both overdramatic and unwarranted; it was just a pie, albeit one that nearly matched her Pinto for color; if she’d thrown it at the car, no one would have noticed the spatter, not that she was in the habit of throwing pies at cars. This one hadn’t been thrown at anything, but it did look a little the worse for having traveled in close quarters: not show quality anymore. Given the crumbled edges of its crust and slightly dented surface, it might have been any pie at all. Ida then handed out plastic forks and paper plates, and if anyone near them in the stands around the fenced patch of mud recognized the picnic as larcenous, they kept it to themselves.

Pete took his fork up with his usual enthusiasm, dug in, took a bite, then closed his eyes. “This pie is freaking awesome. In an ‘I could literally die now’ way.”

“I told you, you literally can’t beat it,” Ida said.

While Myka had respected that particular “literally” when Ida said it yesterday, she wasn’t sure she believed it today in any kind of existential sense. Hence her astonishment when she found her own first bite to be... was “rapturous” outsize, as a word or an idea, to apply to the experience of eating pie? It didn’t matter what word she used, though; she wielded her fork with even more gusto than Pete, and she felt a niggling worry that this was, for her, unseemly, yet the combination of the unprecedented pie and the certainty that it was nutritious was irresistible. The mouthfeel alone was enough to knock her out—unctuous, yet with a sharp slash of lime-presence tanging on the tongue... she’d noticed Helena ignoring her own serving so as to watch Myka. “What?” Myka had asked. “It’s good for me.”

“I am prepared to offer to any and all attending deities,” Helena had said, amusement animating her face, “my prayer that your recently espoused belief does not wear off.”

“I’m prepared to livestream it so everybody on the planet can testify later that it happened,” Pete had enthused. “Also so Claud’s head explodes when she sees it.”

And so it was that the only words Myka had managed to come up with in her own defense, “But this pie,” had caused everyone to express even more opinions in the matter.

Fortunately, however, they let her keep eating. “I feel like I’m somebody else, how much I’m enjoying this,” she now said, not bothering to pause before scooping up another forkful.

“Interesting,” Helena said again, and her tone told Myka that something was waiting to be interrogated there... but she was extremely unwilling to turn her attention away from the pie.

Meanwhile, the cars destroyed each other. None of it mattered to pie-intoxicated Myka, except the Pinto, a little, because she could in fact keep track of it in the muck. It was surprisingly agile, “her” Pinto. Or Palomino. And if the derby had engaged only her eyes, that would have been fine, but exhaust and mud and the crowd’s sweaty enthusiasm hung heavy in the air, congesting her nose and clogging her lungs; she resented that it interfered with her experience of the pie. Its rich citrus viscosity was similarly condensed, on her tongue, but far more pleasurable... but wait, she thought, thickness... a dictionary-page memory... “fr. L in- + spissus slow, dense”: “Inspissate!” she exclaimed.

Pete and Ida both said “What?” and Myka looked up from her plate, ready to explain about “insp” and areas—but her neon pony caught her eye at just the right, or wrong, instant for her to witness its driver’s failure to recognize a danger for what it was: it received in that moment a dramatic T-boning from a seemingly unthreatening even-more-compact car. She yelped and upended her plate, which landed face down on the aluminum at her feet. It had held one last bit of inspissated key lime and... whatever else it was combined with, a last bit that she’d told herself she wanted to savor, but that she’d in all honesty been about to shovel into her mouth with abandon. She made a decision that was really no decision: she lifted the plate, scraped the spattered filling up with her fork, and willed herself not to think about dirt.

“Not one word,” she said, her mouth again full, to Pete and Helena. “Not one word out of either of you.”

Neither said anything. Myka chose to ignore their thunderstruck expressions, because she still had that precious morsel of pie in her mouth.

“Good choices,” Myka told them once she’d swallowed. She licked her fork. She took note of Helena’s expression as it shifted from shock to avid appreciation of her licking her fork.

TBC

Again, minimal tags, but here, an essay might mention things like strongly held beliefs, and how our strongly held beliefs shape our behavior, and why we so strongly hold the beliefs that shape our behavior, and that it is indeed interesting when a shift in belief (about anything: from sugar’s nutritional value to who we actually are) leads us to engage in behaviors that make us strangers to ourselves—regardless of whether we know of that estrangement at the time it’s occurring. When you think about it, in terms of selfhood, each of us might be said to be a cult with exactly one member. (I realize that doesn’t entirely hold up, but I’ve spent a little while thinking about it.)

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Mercury #part 11

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levi-ish · 6 years ago

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Don’t Ask My Neighbors | 1

Summary: When the night is quiet as a whisper and the windows are all closed, sneaky kisses are shared under the same old tree where kids swore their love would never fade.

Pairing: Tom Holland X Enemy!Reader

Disclaimer: mentions of car accidents, sex and alcohol (there’ll be smut later in this story)

A/N: Hi there! Thank you so much for all of you who read the teaser and liked it, so here’s the first part, and I hope you guys enjoy! Also, I set your sisters, parents and last names already because it was getting too confusing to write, so yup. Sorry for the shitty chapter, I promise the next ones will be more intriguing.

Also, if you want to be tagged, send me an ASK.

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

“Your neighbor is hot” Dave peeked through the curtains as you kept your eyes glued into the notebook, writing down more complex words that would lead you to a better grade.

“My neighbor?” You asked without even looking, knowing already what he was talking about, or even worse — whom.

“Dude, look at that fucking eight-pack” Eva sighed, sneaking under Dave’s arm and peeking through the window while you wondered if you should offer them a napkin or something like that. “But (Y/N) already told me that he’s off limits, so...”

You rolled your eyes and turned around on your chair, analyzing the two other young-adults that were crowding around your window, staring at the boy’s room and letting their hormones take over their minds.

“Why’s that?” Dave bit his lower lip and turned around, running a hand on his dark hair and twitching his mouth to the side.

“Because of their families’ war” said the other girl before you could even think of an answer.

And she wasn’t wrong; not only he was off limits, but his entire family was too.

You never had the chance to ask for a cup of sugar or to even wave back while putting the trash away; or even to pet the Holland’s dog from time to time because of the weird looks you would receive from your own family and from the other. So a normal life in suburbia wasn’t something you grew used to.

It all started before you could even see the light of day, when your family bought the house that other couple wanted, because the neighborhood was quiet and that specific place had a better yard and pool. The Hollands, however, decided to buy the house on the left and your parents, who weren’t that fond of competition, decided not to let them slide that easily.

The firsts steps were the fake smiles and crooked gazes to their backs, and then, soon enough, the families started to rub each conquest against each others faces. When Nikki first got pregnant with her boy, your mother called for a war. She discovered that she was pregnant too a few months later, having you and then, she didn’t want to waste more time, trying again, only to have a baby girl two and a half years later, your sister Morgan.

But then, Nikki discovered that she was having twins — and guess what?! — your parents couldn’t stand the thought of losing.

With all that back and forth, pregnancies and showing off the babies and their toys around, it resulted on a house with four boys and the other with four girls.

For informational purposes; the Hollands were composed of Dominic and Nikki, Tom (21), Sam and Harry (18) and Paddy (13); while the Hodges were Luke and Viola, you (19, but almost 20), Morgan (17), Danny (14) and Stella (10); but the confusion was too big even for you, sometimes.

And the pressure — don’t even get me started. You had to be the greatest in all of your classes because fucking Tom couldn’t be better than you. And it wasn’t that Thomas fucking Holland was a bad kid or anything like that, he was actually nice and you had nothing to complain about, but since your and his mother hated each other, you had to keep the profile and break any kind of contact you two had in the past.

“Why do you have to be a part of this fight again?” Eva sat on your bed again, her body sinking into the cocoon of blankets you set there before they came.

“I’m not a part of it” you said, lifting your head and pulling one of your legs closer to your chest. “This is my mother’s business and I’m not putting up with it. I’m just...”

“—Too scared to contradict her.” Dave finished your sentence, throwing himself at your bed and his legs hitting Eva’s back, making the girl let out a small whimper, slapping his thigh. “But don’t even pretend that you like him a lot.”

That was true; you didn’t. You didn’t even know when you started to get annoyed by him or if you were really annoyed by the boy or if it was your mother’s voice inside your head, manipulating you into hating the boy.

You smiled kindly at them and turned around. “Maybe we should go back to the project since I am the only one doing something here.”

But he was right, you were too scared of your mother. God, every one in your family was, because when she was mad, she would turn the tables and make you feel guilty with a great selection of words that would keep you inside your room until the end of times.

So, no, no one dared to contradict her.

“I’m too old for that” Eva rolled her eyes and threw her head on a pillow, dramatically sighing. “I might be dead tomorrow and you are worrying about the damn project.”

“Well, it’s a third of the final grade.” You stated, licking your lips quickly and adjusting the hoodie’s sleeves on your arms. “I’m not getting a B because of you.”

“Nerd” Dave yelled-whispered and you threw a pen at him, laughing while your eyes reached for the small space that the curtains didn’t cover, watching from afar the figure of the boy who smiled at the sight of you, making your stomach feel funny — not the bad way.

[...]

You yawned deeply as your eyes tried to keep open, the sweet smell of pancakes downstairs keeping you away from falling asleep once more, ignoring all the alarms you always set on your phone. You changed from the pajama pants to some comfortable jeans and an old shirt you were fond of, putting on some sneakers and grabbing your stuff to leave quickly.

Climbing downstairs, you walked into the kitchen and found all of your sisters already sitting there and your father cooking some pancakes while your mother finished some work on her laptop. You were greeted by sleepy ‘good mornings’ and helped yourself with a cup of coffee, sitting beside Morgan and drinking it slowly.

“Ugh, I hate those small keyboard keys” your mother muttered to herself while downing a big gulp of her coffee.

“Don’t mind your mother, girls” your father said, turning around quickly and smiling politely. “She’s had a bad night.”

“It’s not my fault” she glared at her husband and rolled her eyes, completely annoyed. “I couldn’t sleep because one of the Devil’s spawns let their music too loud last night.”

You furrowed your brows while your father put some pancakes on your plate, grabbing syrup to cover them.

“Devil’s spawns?” Questioned Danny, twitching her mouth.

“Her new nickname to Nikki’s sons” your father explained and rolled his own eyes.

You laughed to yourself, already aware of their rivalry and how your father wasn’t so into the battle as your mother was. Actually, when you were younger, your father told you about how he used to be friends with Dominic a long time ago, ending their friendship because of their wives. What a waste.

“Anyways” your mother closed her laptop and looked at you with demanding eyes, making the pancakes going down your throat seem stuck there. “(Y/N), could you take your sisters to school before class?”

Coughing on your coffee, you put the mug on the surface of the table and looked around, watching as your sisters seemed to mind their own business, so you just nodded while cutting another piece of the pancakes, your stomach humming quietly, but noticeable.

“Sure” you smiled and ate your last bite before standing up. “I’ll just brush my teeth and then we’ll be out.”

The girls nodded and your mother adjusted her pantsuit, straitening the edges before smiling to herself and grabbing her stuff. She was a journalist and worked in the cooking section, always talking about food and nutrition, so she mostly worked from home, but sometimes, she had to go to these meetings and keep her name and works clean.

Don’t even get me started on her key lime pie, because oh, you wouldn’t believe the taste of that! And, of course, she and Nikki would compete who made the best pie.

“Will I see you later, darling?” Asked your father, looking straight at you and you smiled shyly.

Your father, on other hand, had a small market around the corner and worked with all of his heart and passion on it. Sometimes, you would join him to help with some stuff, since some of his employees quit and he could use extra help. You liked doing that, so it wasn’t such a burden.

“Of course.”

Quickly, you brushed your teeth and grabbed your phone and car keys to leave already, only waiting for your sisters to come and entering the car when they were all ready.

Opening the garage door, you moved the car back and let out a small sigh, looking at the mirror as you did so. But when you saw it, it was too late; your nails were deep into the steering wheel and your sisters screamed loud, causing Stella to cry in desperation. You felt your heart starting to thump faster and turned around, looking at the girls.

“Stay here” you said.

It was a small collision, but still a collision that could have done damage to your car — the one you loved so much — so you jumped down of it and walked at the back, looking around and seeing the silver Audi with a small scratch, and so did your own car (luckily).

The owner showed his face while climbing down of the Audi, the brown curls falling against his forehead just slightly since the rest of his hair was pushed back. You crossed your arms and gazed at him, waiting for something to be said before you lost your temper.

“Oh, shit” he said, removing his sunglasses and giving your eyes access to his hazelnut ones as he crouched down behind your car. “I’m so sorry!”

He looked up to find you already staring and you bit your lower lip, twitching your nose.

“I hope so” you said, furrowing your brows. “My sisters are there, you could’ve hurt them.”

You already felt that he was being genuine about his apology, but you were too infuriated to control your choice of words (and you already had the ability to destroy a person with them).

“I’m really sorry” he licked his lips and stood, walking in your direction and stopping only a few inches in front of you.

God, does he know anything about personal space?

You looked a bit up to find his freckled nose right in front of you, making you cross eyes for a little more. Redness staying to spread all over your cheeks and you looked down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of making you blush.

“Yeah.” You said quietly, almost in a mutter.

Looking up again, you found his eyes still invading your personal space. His arm twitched a bit, as if he wanted to touch you, but he hesitated and looked away; and you could swear that you had a déjà-vu that moment, almost smelling the humid grass from the park and hearing the leaves of the big old tree above you, but you shut down that thought, going back to reality, the one where you stood in front of that guy — the same one from the tree — but looking like a stranger.

“Do you—” he started to say, and you wanted to hear, but your mother rushed from the entrance door and to the street, her eyes full of anger and worry.

“What the—” she looked around and her eyes found Tom’s, not making the situation any better. “You!”

She stormed at his direction and you knew that a hurricane was coming, so you held your breath and closed your eyes quickly. Then, another voice appeared and you felt even more frighted.

“Don’t even try to blame it on my son!” Screamed Nikki as she walked down the front yard, standing in front of your mother and crossing her arms. “It’s not his fault that your daughter doesn’t know how to drive. You better be careful, she could’ve hurt someone!”

“Excuse me?!” You furrowed your brows, but were completely ignored.

You looked at Tom again only to find him rolling his eyes and going back to his car, starting it and preparing to leave, but not before he found your reflection on the mirror and gave you a small smirk.

How dare he?

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@hey-i-really-miss-you @starlightfound @lionsfandomsandbearsohmy @isabellamozzarellla @tshollandlove @peterparkerdeservesbetter @marveldes @hamiltrin @teeterparker @draqcnheartstrinq @httpmcrvel @hi-mishamigos @scarlettsoldier @pandas1923 @ultrunning @hobbitoburrito @queenkrissy11 @iamburdened @isabellamozzarellla @sholla4-314 @p-hilo-phobia @determinedpines @tinynlwt @padackles2010 @a-very-superwholocked-starkid @holland-peter @daringbanshee

DON’T ASK MY NEIGHBORS TAGLIST:

@exploratiionist @call-me-wisegirl @ihavenolifeandiambored @bluparis @hbmoore1986 @mxlti-vxrse

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader #smut #fluff #romance #college #au #neighbors #enemies #mapas writing

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becuzpurple · 7 years ago

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Chapter 24: All the Strawberries, Part 3 - Strip Uno, Sangria, Strawberries, & Sex

This is a reposting of Ch 24, now split into 5 parts.

Here be part 3!

(part 2)

Thursday 11 February 2016

We stayed in bed until mid-afternoon. We slept-in, ate fruit and cheese and bread, drank water and champagne, and we talked and talked about everything under the sun from childhood memories to political opinions to celebrity gossip, and let me just say, WOW does he have STORIES.

I found a stack of card and board games on a bookshelf, and we played Uno and then Monopoly sitting on the bed. I kicked his ass at Strip Uno, which is a thing, apparently. By the time we finished he’d had to strip down completely and re-dress too many times to count, which had me practically falling over laughing. I was lucky enough (I guess?) to only be down to my underwear for the majority of the several rounds we played.

No Strip Monopoly, though - Ed is very serious about his Monopoly, and is quite the real estate tycoon. He seemed to have had an actual strategy, whereas I barely even remembered how to play the game. He was all about buying up property early, as opposed to saving his money. By the time I had what I considered enough money to really start buying, nothing good was left, and I eventually lost it all to paying him off.

“You’re super-competitive about this,” I observed.

“My streetwise, killer instincts are reserved for cutthroat pursuits, like music and board games.”

“Killer instincts?” I grinned. “If you say so. But Competitive Ed is very sexy.”

“Yeah? So I’m a sexy Monopoly player?”

”A sexy Strip Uno player, too.”

“Wicked.”

We’d made reservations for dinner at a nearby Russian restaurant, of all things. It happened to be that the Guadalupe Valley was settled by Russian immigrants in the mid-1800’s, and a fairly decent-sized Russian community still thrived there. In fact, it was Russian immigrants who first cultivated the vineyards in the area.

Working in the field I do - specializing in southwestern US and Latin American history and genealogy - I was utterly fascinated by this non-Spanish aspect of the region’s history. I hadn’t yet come across any such populations through my work at that point, and suddenly had a new itch to start researching this intriguing slice of regional Mexican culture, and how it has remained present and significant through the years. I thought it might be a fascinating topic to present at a genealogy conference. But this was not a working vacation. That would have to wait for another time.

We drove a short distance to Restaurante Familia Samarin, a modest, whitewashed adobe structure that must have been someone’s home before being converted into a restaurant. The interior decor was rustic and charming. The adobe walls, wood stoves, and fresh flowers on the tables reminded me of my maternal grandparents’ home in northern New Mexico rather than a public restaurant. It was homey and charming and I found it quite visually appealing.

The restaurant is family-owned. The Samarin Family is of Russian heritage, and that is reflected in everything from the decor to the menu. The staff was personable, warm, and welcoming to everyone.

We were led to a small table-for-two in a corner of the large, open dining area. There really was no private dining space. Being off-season, though, it wasn’t crowded. The other diners either didn’t notice Ed, didn’t know who he was, or didn’t care. In any case, he was left alone.

The menu was eclectic, ranging from traditional regional Mexican cuisine to Russian and other eastern European specialties to pasta bowls and brick oven-baked pizza. We started off with glasses of sangria with a variety of fresh fruit in them. The rims were lined with tajin spice, a blend of chili peppers, salt, and dehydrated lime juice - delicious.

Our waitress brought the appetizers to us - olive bread with a small plate of olives and cheese, and beef and cheese empanadas - and took our orders for our entrees. Once she left Ed immediately started devouring a little bit of everything on the table. I sipped on my sangria and watched him in slightly horrified fascination.

He glanced up at me as he was stuffing an empanada in his mouth.

“What?” His voice was thick and muffled with food.

I grinned and shook my head. “You’re cute.”

He finished chewing and swallowed his mouthful. ”It’s so good. You need to try this.”

I’d just plucked a strawberry from my glass and was holding it up to my mouth. “I will.” I slid the piece of fruit into my mouth and was immediately flooded with the heavenly flavor of the fleshy, juicy berry combined with red wine, brandy, sugar and orange juice.

“Oh my god, this is good,” I uttered under my breath. As soon as I swallowed it, I began rooting around my glass for another slice of strawberry.

He watched me curiously. “You don’t drink sangria often?”

“Clearly not often enough. And don’t laugh at me!” I popped another one in my mouth and moaned quietly at the lovely flavor explosions occurring in my mouth.

“I would never.”

“Liar,” I said sweetly.

He reached across the table and took my glass.

“Hey!”

“Hold on...you’ll get it back…”

And then he took his spoon and ladled all of the strawberries from both his glass and the carafe of sangria on our table into my glass. He put it back down right in front of me, almost overflowing.

“Mmmm, thank-you!” I plucked another one out and sucked some sweetness from it before placing it on my tongue. “I might just get drunk on these, alone - I could eat every last one of them. Is that what you’re doing?”

He shrugged and grinned as he replied, “Nah. I just love seeing you smile, and the strawberries were making you smile. So I gave you all the strawberries.”

I ate a lot of strawberries and sipped on my sangria throughout our meal. I offered some of the delicious alcohol-infused fruit to Ed, but he said he was perfectly happy to watch me enjoy them. Which worked out well, as I was obviously enjoying them immensely.

Our entrees were delicious. I had grilled lamb and rice with capers. The portion was huge, and I was barely able to finish a third of it. Ed ordered pizza. At a Russian restaurant. In Mexico. To be fair, though, it’s called Pizza Rusa (Russian Pizza), and was different from the kinds of pizzas we’re used to. The crust was oven-baked bread, and it was topped with a combination of grilled beef, chorizo, and pepperoni.

We shared our food, offering tasty fork-fulls across the table to each other. He was very complimentary of the lamb, but was clearly much more into the pizza. Which was very good, but I’m a Chicagoan (well, close enough), and therefore a Pizza Snob. I do admit, though, that chorizo as a pizza topping is BRILLIANT.

For dessert we shared a huge slice of pie de manzana (apple pie) with ice cream, and it was so good I almost cried. It wasn’t at all like the apple pie we are used to. It looked like pie, but it was actually apples cooked in a custard-cream inside a crusty pastry bread. It reminded me of a dessert my Schaefer grandmother used to make for us when my brother and I were small. She called it kuchen, and said the recipe was passed on to her from her grandmother.

I had a lovely, low-key buzz throughout our meal. We were both happy and relaxed, and there was an underlying current of delight swirling around us. This little 3-day spell in such a remote, hidden, charming corner of the world was allowing us to learn more about each other and become closer, as well as build up confidence in regards to our relationship. Maybe we were being a little starry-eyed, but really, could there have been a better time for that than while on a romantic getaway?

“You liked the sangria, then?”

We had just paid our bill and were about to drive back to the inn when we noticed the small, gift shop just off the main entrance to the restaurant.

“Well, yeah.” I grinned.

“I bet they sell it here. Go look?”

That sounded like a great idea to me. We went in, Ed leading the way, making a beeline to some shelves in the far corner of the shop where various food and beverage items were displayed. There was an entire wall of shelves just for wine.

“Oh, is this it?” I spotted a bottle of their house blend sangria, the last one there, and picked it up. Ed was right behind me, to the side a little bit, and I assumed he was studying the label over my shoulder. We weren’t touching each other at all, but I could feel his energy right next to me. I turned toward him to ask the question, and promptly stumbled right into his chest.

He put his hands on my waist to steady me, and pulled me in a little bit closer, not letting me go. “We have fresh fruit back at the room. We can slice our own.”

“Are there strawberries?”

He unsuccessfully bit back a smirk. “Yes, dear. You get all the strawberries.”

Back at our suite, I waited on the couch while Ed poured us some more drinks. The fireplace was lit, and the lights were dimmed. I watched him through slightly heavy lids as he approached, carrying two glasses of sangria, mine heaped with strawberries. He also had my Big Black Bag of Toys tucked under his arm. He handed me a glass, sat down, and started sorting through the bag with a cute little smirk on his face.

I was pretty sure I knew what he was looking for, and my guess was confirmed a few seconds later when he pulled out the tube of gel lube and the two butt plugs. He took each one out separately and slowly, a pleased little smirk plastered across his face as he did so. I quietly sipped on my drink and watched him. He opened and removed each plug from its case.

“Why did you buy two?”

He was holding them both, turning them over in his hands.

“Well, I wasn’t sure which...size would be best. So I just got both.”

“Oh. Well, I’ve never used this kind before, so I’m not sure, either. Maybe we should start with the smaller one…?”

He nodded and wrapped the larger one back up. He took it and my empty glass and put them down on the table and then looked directly at me.

“I’ve not done this before.”

“Use a butt plug? I know - you told me.”

“Well, yeah, that, but…”

It took me a few seconds to realize what he was telling me. “You...haven’t done any…?”

He shook his head with a small smirk.

“No anal anything?”

He shook his head.

“Fingering?”

“Nope.”

“Oh. Uh, are you OK with doing this? Because we really don’t have to-”

“Kate, honey. I’ve, um, wanted your arse since we’ve met. You know that.”

Well. I squeezed my thighs together in a sad attempt to hide my body’s reaction to his words. But he totally noticed, and his smirk grew even wider.

“Sooo, I can put this little bauble in your bum?”

“Mmm-hmm,” I nodded, smirking a little bit, my eyes on his.

“And fuck you while it’s in you?”

“Yes.”

“From behind?”

“Yes.” And that’s when my core began throbbing.

He nodded, radiating nervous energy, and stood, keeping hold of my hand. “Let’s...go to bed, then?”

I looked up at him with a small smile, stood, and let him lead me to the bedroom. He placed the jeweled plug and the tube of gel lube down on the side table and turned back to me.

His face betrayed his thoughts, and he was clearly 100% into this. His whole demeanor exuded excitement, curiosity, and desire, and it was beyond attractive. So, so sexy.

“Sit down,” I quietly urged him. He looked at me curiously, but then sat down on the side of the bed. I stood directly in front of him, astride one of his thighs, my eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Take off your sweater.”

He raised his brows at me, but did as I said. He wore a black t-shirt under the light gray sweater, and, at my nod, pulled it off as well.

I kicked off my shoes, then, and he followed suit, along with his socks. We both grinned at each other until our grins eventually faded away.

I lowered my face and pressed my lips to his. My hair fell forward around both of us, as I whispered at the side of his mouth, “I’ve been wet for you since dinner.”

He pulled his face back to look at me, eyes gone wide for just a second before he said, almost as if to himself, “That’s so fucking hot.”

His hands were suddenly at the tops of my thighs, fingers trailing back around my hips to my bottom, and then they were pulling aside the thin, gauzy material of my panties. Even though I still wore my dress, everything was accessible under the short, black skirt. He trailed first one finger, then two, through my very, very wet folds, teasing me with fingertips just barely nudging inside me, and then back out again. He brought his other hand between us, cupping my mound, and began slowly, deliberately stroking my clit.

I was practically purring as I rocked myself back-and-forth over his hands, keeping mine on his shoulders to steady myself.

“Get on the bed,” he murmured. He gave my bottom a quick pat as I crawled up on the mattress.

I knelt on top of the bed, near the head, my back to him. I spread my knees out a little bit, glanced back over my shoulder at him and grinned as I watched him take off his jeans and boxer-briefs. Then I pulled my dress up over my head.

He crawled up behind me, unhooked my bra, and pulled it down my arms. After tossing it to the floor he wrapped his arms around me, his bare chest to my bare back. I could feel his cock, warm and hard and pointing up against my lower back. He brought his mouth to that spot between my neck and my shoulder and kissed me there. Then he started talking in between kisses.

“You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen...so fucking beautiful.”

I turned my head toward him and modestly shook it in denial.

“Yes.” He kissed my neck. “You.” He kissed my jaw. “Are.” He kissed my mouth, tracing my lips with the tip of his tongue, and giving my bottom lip a small nip.

He brought his hands to my hips and started slowly sliding my underwear down my thighs.

“You gonna let me play with your sweet little arse?”

Oh, god…

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” He practically whispered.

I nodded.

He sat on the bed next to me and stared intently at my bum as he lightly caressed it with one hand.

I watched him from over my shoulder. He watched his hand as if it wasn’t part of him - as if he didn’t know what it would do next. He brought his lips to my shoulders, my neck, and my upper back, and kissed them all almost reverently. After a minute he dipped his hand down lower, gliding his fingers through my wetness, and then pumped deep into me, steadily, slowly.

When he stopped, too soon for my liking, he dragged his fingertips, full of my fluids, to my bottom, tracing the crease between my cheeks and lightly teasing my sensitive opening. He smeared my wetness everywhere.

My body was reacting to him. My breathing was shallow and my muscles were tensing. My eyes kept falling shut.

Then for a few seconds everything seemed to have stopped - his mouth and his fingers were no longer on me. In hindsight, I realize he was squeezing some lube onto his fingers. But the pause unnerved me at the time, and I looked back at him in confusion.

“I’m right here, sweet girl.”

I took a deep, calming breath as he slowly began to caress my bottom again, making everything slick and wet with lubricating gel. He slid his fingers through the crease between my cheeks, back-and-forth, over-and-over, circling fingertips around the sensitive opening until I was squirming in anticipation.

And finally. His fingers slowed and very faintly brushed over the small, puckered opening. There was a very short pause, and I felt more cold lube trickle over me. Then, a few more brushes of his fingers, and I felt the tip of one slide into me.

“Oh…”

He pulled it out almost immediately, but then I felt it push right back in, again, just the tip, and it felt so good, but I wanted more. More everything - more depth, more movement, more fingers… More.

He pulled it out again, and then slid back in deeper.

My back arched and my ass lifted up a bit as I moaned. He began to pump his finger in-and-out of me, slowly, and the throbbing in my groin area escalated.

“More…” I whispered. “More, please.”

He let his finger slide out of me, and then straight away there were two...two fingers pushing into me, filling the most private, intimate part of my body, and I was so aroused I couldn’t think straight. I began to slightly push back into him.

Ed must have remembered at that point that he had another hand available, because right then he reached around with his free arm, found my clit, and started rubbing little circles over it, all while still pumping his fingers in my ass. The flurry of tension in my belly was already almost flying apart.

We both knelt upright, he right behind me - one arm around my front, and the other at my backside. He rested his chin over my shoulder as both of his hands continued about their business.

“Bloody hell...you’re...this...fuck, this is hot...”

I nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

I turned around as he brought his eyes back to my bottom. His expression of focused concentration was priceless - he was completely enthralled.

A minute or so later he slid both hands to my hips, and gently rubbed and patted them a few times before reaching over to the side table for the butt plug.

“OK…”

I think he might have been talking to himself rather than to me. He applied more lube on me, and then a generous amount to the plug, too.

I took a quiet breath and lowered my elbows to the mattress. I waited like that, feeling a little bit on edge, myself.

I could feel the cold gel on the tip when he pressed it to my opening. Although I was trying to relax, there was resistance as he slowly tried to push it in me. But that’s pretty normal, I think.

“Umm...it’s not…”

“I know, I - I think I just need to relax.” I took a deep, calming breath. “I - umm, maybe try angling it up a little bit?”

“Angle it up...” he whispered under his breath - he was definitely talking to himself.

I finally relaxed my muscles, and almost immediately it slid it right into place.

“Oh!”

It took a few seconds for my brain to register what my body was feeling. I was so...filled. I felt sexy, in a kind of smutty way, but I liked it, if that makes any sense. I hadn’t done anything like this in a really long time, and I’d forgotten how much I like it. It really fucking turned me on.

“Is that good? Does it feel OK? jesusfuckingchrist you look amazing...” He was sitting on his knees right behind me, my legs between his. He brushed his hand all over my bottom again, this time touching and skimming over the gem that was flush between my cheeks.

“...feels...really good...” My voice didn’t even sound like me - it was soft and sort of sluggish.

He kept one hand firmly on my hip, while the other was already carefully guiding his cock into me.

“Ah...I feel it...I can fucking feel it. Jesus. It’s...god, so tight...”

And oh, did I feel it, too. He was right. Everything was so tight. He wasn’t even fully in me yet when my legs started trembling.

He slowly pushed until he was completely inside me, then stilled. I think we both needed to adjust for a minute. It’s always tighter when he comes in from behind, but this was at a completely new level. I was so...filled. Warm bursts of pleasure were flaring throughout my body already, and we weren’t even moving.

I pushed my hips back, seeking out more.

“Fuck me now, Teddy...I want to feel you fucking me...”

With both hands on my hips he carefully pulled out until only the head of his cock was still inside me. Then he pulled me back as he pushed in, still slow at first, probably gauging both of our comfort levels.

“God, baby you feel so good...”

He didn’t answer me, but made raspy, throaty noises on each thrust.

I felt a slow, powerful whirlwind building in the pit of my belly. The gradual buildup was intoxicating, and I wanted more of that.

“Teddy. Go faster. More...please.”

And just like that he was crashing into me like rapid-fire and everything was so tight and so full and so hyper-sensitive and so fast and so hard that I had to reach a hand out to the headboard to keep from flying into it. He slammed against the jeweled base of the plug on each thrust, bumping it into me, repeatedly, as his cock did the same thing in my other hole - hitting that spot - that perfect spot, and I was nearly done-in from the beginning. All I could do was grunt and whimper and feel and, god, it was everything.

He lowered his body down over mine, keeping one arm around my waist, and bringing his other arm down to lean on the bed, right next to my own. I turned to look at him, and his face was just inches from mine. His eyes bored into mine for a couple of seconds, and then he kissed me. It was wet and messy. It was urgent...intense. I returned it with the same hunger I felt from him.

As we continued to kiss we slowed our frantic pace a little bit, and that’s when I really started feeling the smallest details of everything - every vein and ridge on him, the conical shaft of the plug still thumping into me on each thrust, the growing ball of energy in the pit of my stomach, his hand roaming my hip and my bottom, his mouth on me.

“Kate. Open your eyes.”

I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them. When I opened them and looked at him, he had such a serious, fixed expression, but then it softened as he studied my own.

“Look.” He tilted his head and peered to the left. It took a few seconds for me to work out what he wanted me to do. I was completely wrapped up what we were doing, and my brain didn’t want to have to actually function on anything more than ‘automatic’. But I soon followed his gaze.

It was a mirror - an enormous, stand-alone floor mirror, right next to the dresser. It was angled in such a way that our reflections were framed almost perfectly. I remembered seeing it when we first checked into the suite, when I admired its beautifully hand-carved, wooden frame.

The only prior experience with sex and mirrors that I’d ever had was the time when Ed went down on me in the entryway of the hotel suite after the New Year’s Eve party. I’d been able to watch from a viewpoint I'd normally never have, and it was crazy-hot to see his mouth on me like that.

But this time? This made the previous mirror experience pale in comparison. Because this time we were actually watching ourselves having sex.

The mirror was about 4 or 5 feet away from us - close enough so we could make eye contact with each other through our reflections, and really see our bodies, at least in profile.

I watched him on top of me - behind me - holding me so carefully with his muscular, colorful arms wrapped around my body - holding me protectively, possessively. I watched him watch me, then squeeze his eyes shut, and furrow his brows, and so very slightly open his mouth on each moan. I watched his muscles tense as he pushed into me - his stomach, his thighs, his ass - they tensed and relaxed as he thrust in and out. I watched him sink his cock all the way into me, and then pull almost all the way out, and then again...over, and over, and over. I watched us both practically fall apart each time.

I’d never seen myself like that before, nor even really thought about what I might look like while having sex, but there I was. It was almost as if I was watching someone else. I think the mirror let me see myself a little bit like Ed does. My body is far from perfect, but through the mirror, and with him, I think maybe I looked sexy. I definitely felt sexy. I was fascinated, and really surprised by the realization that I liked watching myself. I liked seeing what I looked like. I liked seeing how I moved with him and in response to him - the way I arched my back, or lifted my ass in anticipation, or bared my neck as I reached my head back towards him.

I was transfixed - I couldn’t peel my eyes away from the mirror. It was like watching a really dirty movie, but also being in it. I felt like both a voyeur and an exhibitionist.

Through the mirror, our eyes roamed each other’s bodies, and eventually settled on each other’s faces. He brought his mouth to just above my ear.

“...fucking...love this...watching us fuck? So...dirty. You’re hot as fuck...I can’t...I...I…” He took a heavy breath before he continued. “God...feels so good...so full...fuck…”

The bed was creaking. We were both groaning on each hard thrust. There was a lot of heavy breathing, and the sound of skin slapping against skin. There was sweat and lube and we were slippery. He slipped out a few times, even, but it was fine, because feeling him enter and fill me is heavenly, and definitely worth a few slips.

I closed my eyes. I just wanted to feel - feel him, and feel the physical effects he was having on me. What started out as a fluttering, insatiable emptiness and a sense of urgency turned into full-body tingles and trembling and euphoria flooding every inch of me. My heart raced and my legs shook, and if it weren’t for Ed holding me up by my hips I probably would have collapsed onto the bed. When I finally reached that phenomenal ending, I felt weirdly numb and so alive at the same time, and all I could do was smile and giggle as my orgasm just kept going and going.

He leaned his mouth down to my ear again. “That’s the best sound...”

I pulsed around him for a really long time. My whole body was humming, vibrating continuously. I felt such joy, and I desperately wanted him to feel the same thing, because it was so perfect and beautiful. All the while, he continued thrusting into me, faster and faster, chasing his own climax.

“Gonna come so hard, love…”

I looked over my shoulder at him and sloppily pressed my lips to his. I covered his bottom lip with both of mine and sucked it hard for a few seconds.

“Come,” I whispered, still absurdly smiling.

And then he did, holding my hips tight, his own lurching sloppily into me as he uttered almost incoherent confessions and declarations to both me and to god.

He collapsed next to me and we nestled into each other, lazily kissing and touching and full of silly smiles and occasional words. We eventually began kissing for real, again, and soon his mouth was everywhere else, too until I was a quivering mess all over again, and we were good to start over.

Throughout the night we had sometimes filthy, sometimes god-like, unhurried, all-consuming, amazing sex. We fucked and we made love and the line between the two faded because they'd become one in the same. We were hands and mouths and bodies with no real destination or motive. We had all the time in the world. We’d been all over the bed, in all kinds of positions, and he’d put my needs first through all of it, making sure I was satisfied each and every time. I trusted him completely and I surrendered myself so deeply to him that I melted into nothingness, and it felt like home.

Very late into the night we found ourselves face-to-face in the classic missionary position. He was nestled in between my legs. His forearms were around my head and his hands cradled my face. I had one leg sprawled out and the other was bent and folded over his lower back as we gently rocked into each other. I was pretty spent, to be honest.

“Kate, honey, can you come one more time for me?” His voice was hoarse, even as a whisper.

I traced his lips and his cheeks and his brows with my thumbs, and then combed my fingers through his thoroughly damp curls, and I nodded, biting my lip on a small moan.

“You’re so amazing,” he stared down at me, eyes wide.

“No...you. It’s you.”

He brought his forehead to mine, and, with a warm, sure sigh of contentment, began to quicken his thrusts into me.

He needed and more than deserved this release, and I wanted to help him get there. He’d spent the entire night pleasuring me - putting me first, and even still he was placing my satisfaction ahead of his. He had to have been so tired.

“Teddy,” I kissed him tenderly, as we continued moving together. “I want...let me get on top, OK?”

He looked at me questioningly for a second or two, during which time a full-body tremor ran through me. He saw, and the look he gave me was so full of tenderness.

“You’re not too tired?”

I’m fine, baby.” I brought both of my knees up higher and rolled my hips up to meet his. “Let me be on top...please?”

He gave a small, knowing smirk, at my use of the word ‘please’.

“OK.” He nodded, paused a few seconds, and pulled out.

We barely lost our flow in the few seconds it took for him to sit up and for me to straddle his lap and sink down around him.

My eyes fell shut and I groaned as I sheathed him. His hands caught my hips and held me still for a few seconds before they began gently guiding me up and down.

I’m more than happy for Ed to lead the way when we are intimate. He’s an attentive and unselfish lover, and I’m always beyond satisfied. But sometimes I want to take charge or take care of him, and when that happens, this is my position of choice - being on top. I can look down at his beautiful face as he looks up at me - my hands on his shoulders or in his hair or holding his face, and I’m lifting up, pushing back down, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. I can feel more of him from this angle, and for some reason I tend to feel extra-possessive of him because of it. I love that his mouth is right in front of my tits, and the way he lifts his eyes up to mine when he sucks and licks them is so sexy. When he’s looking up at me I see love and devotion, and sometimes vulnerability, and I love him even more for it.

I moved slowly over him at first, savoring the sensations that flooded through me. The knot of warm tension in my belly began to slowly unravel on each bold, downward stroke. I watched him - his eyes shut, his brows furrow, his mouth open, his breath quicken...and knowing that I was the reason for it only encouraged me to give more.

I started moving faster - sliding up and slamming back down, again and again. My elbows rested on his shoulders and my hands threaded through his hair. Everything felt so good. I kissed his mouth, his chin, his jaw. I nibbled at his lips and I licked his neck and I sucked his earlobe and my mouth was everywhere because I needed every last bit of him.

He started pushing his hips up into me, meeting my hard thrusts with his own. His right hand slid around from my hip to my bottom, right over the area where the butt plug was still firmly lodged. He pressed his palm on me there, nudging the plug just a bit deeper into me. The sensations it caused - that full feeling - that feeling of tightness and tension - caused more flutters and tingles. I was again groaning on every deep thrust. I felt almost drunk I was so turned-on.

“God… I love fucking you,” I uttered into his ear.

He brought his free hand to my cheek and directed my face toward his. Once we had eye contact, he replied so earnestly, “I fucking love you.”

Oh...

We stared at each other as we slammed our hips together, grinning, groaning, sweating, watching each other fall apart.

I arched my back and pushed my chest into him. He took a boob into his mouth and sucked on me, making my nipple pucker and harden almost immediately. He suckled and flicked his tongue, repeatedly. His mouth was loving on one nipple and he teased my other with his fingers - rubbing and flicking and pinching and pulling. He watched my face the whole time, and I his, and I don’t think there are many things I love so much as that look of pure adoration in his eyes.

While one hand was busy teasing my nipple, his other hand was still firmly pressed up against my bottom, keeping the butt plug firmly nudged up into me on each thrust of our hips. The combined sensations from all of it roiled inside me, building, spreading, gradually wrecking me. I had to let it go.

“Teddy,” I sighed into his neck. “I need…I...”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m right there, too.”

I lifted my head up from his neck and leaned my forehead down to his. I wrapped my arms around him, my fingers tangled in his hair. He kept his right hand on my ass, and brought his left to my waist. I lifted up onto my knees one last time, and slammed back down on him, just as he pulled me in, putting the most delicious pressure on the plug as he held me to him while he released. At the same time, my climax roared through me and hurled out through every digit, every orifice. A sustained moan, starting low and quiet but growing in intensity and volume, echoed through the room, and It took me several seconds to realize that it was me making that sound.

“Ho-ly shit. That was…”

“Mmmm...,” I purred.

“...fucking amazing.”

I agreed, of course, sighing wistfully. “Yeah.”

We’d been laying down on the bed for a few minutes - I’d sort of collapsed on top of him once we both finished. I pulled myself up to see him better, and kissed him one more time before getting up out of bed.

“Where you going?”

“I need to clean up.”

“Oh.” His eyes grew wider as he realized what that actually involved.

“It’s fine. I’ll only be a few minutes. Promise.”

“ ‘K.” I could feel his eyes following me as I quickly grabbed a t-shirt and panties. I was still naked, of course, and the plug was still in place. I turned and gave him a quick wink before disappearing into the bathroom.

I took a lightning-fast, but very thorough shower, cleaning everything that required cleaning. I threw on the t-shirt and panties, pulled a comb through my hair a few times and brushed my teeth, and was good to go.

When I came back to the bedroom he promptly scooted right past me with a quick, “My turn!” I couldn’t help but put a hand up to his waist, letting it slide back to his ass for just a second as he moved past me.

He stopped mid-stride and turned to me with a cocky little grin before heading into the bathroom.

With a smile still on my face, I turned back toward the bed. It was a mess - a beautiful, rumpled, disarrayed mess. Wrinkled sheets were pulled up off the corners, pillows and blankets had fallen to the floor, the bedspread was hanging on by an edge… I’m not sure why, but I suddenly wanted to capture it - kind of a provocative little secret reminder, maybe? I grabbed my phone from the dresser and quickly took some shots from a few different angles. None of it would ever be shared anywhere or with anyone - it was just for me. And maybe Ed.

I’d just started straightening up the bed when Ed came out of the bathroom. “Oh!” he murmured, seeing what I was doing as he pulled on a clean pair of underwear. Then he joined me in tucking the sheet corners back in and righting the covers and pillows.

“We made a proper mess of it, didn’t we?”

I grinned sleepily at him. “It was pretty impressive.”

We shut off the lights and climbed back into bed. We snuggled into each other - his arm pulled me into his side and our legs were tangled together in a pile. My arm reached across him so that my hand rested on his hip. My head was tucked under his chin.

I knew I would fall asleep within minutes. “I’m so tired.”

“I feel like I just ran a marathon.”

“Me, too,” I yawned. “Maybe tomorrow we can venture out and explore - get a good look at this place before we leave?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. It’s a date.” He paused, looking at me curiously. “You...you’re OK, right? Are you...did any of that hurt you?”

“I’m...a little sore now. Might be more tomorrow, I don’t know, yet. But nothing hurt at the time at all - it felt incredible. I’m good, I promise.”

“OK,” he nodded, and then gave another small grin. “It was incredible for me, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

We grinned absurdly at each other, shared several soft kisses, and wished each other ‘goodnight’. Soon we were both sound asleep, secure in each other’s arms.

(part 4)

#becausepurple #becuzpurple #ch 24 All the Strawberries #reblog #pt 3 #Sangria Strawberries & a Sex Toy #ed sheeran #ed sheeran fan fic #ed sheeran mature fanfic #ed sheeran smut #Ed & Kate #Ed & Kate love story #CODE GINGER #CODEFUCKINGGINGER #the Mexico chapter

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