#Middle Finga

[middlefingazupxo]

“𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐑𝐮𝐛𝐢 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞.” - @𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐛𝟔𝟒 🖕

[bibiwrld]

ANARCHY🎸⚡️| Hobie Brown

previous: –three.

–four.

THIRD PERSON POV

Hobie's lip ring grazed across Sasha's nipple, as he nipped at her small round breasts.

Sasha writhed underneath him, squeezing pillows and crying out so beautifully.

"Music to my fucking ears." Hobie's lips unclamped from her nipples. He pulled off his denim vest, revealing his tatted chest, nipple rings a belly ring.

Sasha's eyes were glued to him, unconsciously biting her bottom lip.

"See somethin' ya like, love?" A smug look on his face.

She slowly nodded and looked into his eyes.

Hobie grinned. "You're so honest." His head dipped into her neck, kissing and sucking on it.

His tongue ring tickled her sensitive neck.

"Hobie." She breathed out in pure ecstasy.

"Mmhmm." He hummed into her ear. His tongue traced the shape of it with his tongue, licking the lobe and biting down on it.

"Yes." She moaned out.

Hobie leaned up and kicked his boots off, then looked back at the damsel laying in front of him trying to catch her breath.

"Let's get rid of this, yeah?" He pulled the rest of her dress off, as he only pulled it down to her waist. He threw her dress somewhere and he admired her small and curvy figure. "Such a peng likkle ting."

Sasha had no idea what that meant, but she was too drunk to care.

He removed her shoes, then her bra, all that was left was her pink lace panties.

Hobie slowly ran his hand from the middle of her chest, to the waistband of her panties.

His hands were so big to her..hell, he was big in general.

She squirmed when a big slender finger dipped into her underwear. It toyed with her clit, her voice getting higher with pleasure.

Hobie was surprised by how loud she got, but he loved it. "That's what I love to hear." His finger went further down.

Sasha's eyes widened at the sudden action.

That big and slender finger rubbed up and down her slippery slit.

Hobie bit his bottom lip and stared at her. " 's so wet, love. You got this wet for me?"

She nodded vigorously. "Just for you."

He loved that. "Puttin' a finga in."

Sasha prepared herself, feeling the pressure, but it wasn't that bad.

"Oh my God, love, you're gonna tear it right off." Hobie moved his finger slowly. He loved how she clamped down on him.

"Oh fuck!"

Hobie used his elbow to balance himself as he leaned over to whisper into Sasha's ear."Yes, y-ya like that?"

"Y-yesss." She choked out.

Hobie smashed his lips onto hers, it was sloppier than the first one. Sasha moaned into his mouth, giving him the chance to slide his tongue in.

Hobie loved the taste of her and Sasha loved the taste of  him also.

Hobie pulled away, a long string of saliva keeping them attached.

" 'm puttin' in another finga." Hobie worked quick, but gently.

Sasha moaned at the cold feeling of his ring pressing against her second pair lips.

"You're such a mess." Hobie grinned while finger  fucking Sasha with his two long and slender fingers. "Oh, you're gonna cum, aren't ya love? I can feel your likkle cunt gettin' tighter 'round my fingers."

"Hooobbiieee!" She cried. She was close. This was gonna be her first orgasm by someone other than her.

"Yes love, let it out, cum all over my fingas." Hobie encouraged her. He was enjoying every second of this.

"Oh my God!" She turned her head, her hips bucking into the air.

She saw stars, she could barley breathe. Sweat rolled down her body.

He got sloppier with the movement of his fingers. "Yes, gimme all of it." He slowly pulled his two fingers out, they were coated with a thin, white and creamy substance.

He sucked his fingers clean and started to unbuckle his pants. His entire body was wet with sweat. He wiped his forehead and pulled out his dick, while slowly pumping it.

Sasha's never seen one so big, it was like the ones in porn.

"Ya ready to take this cock? Use my body as ya wish to forget that bloke." His head tilted, his wicks moving with him.

"Mhmm." She hummed.

"That's all I needed to hear."

He pulled her closer to him, by dragging her by her legs.

Sasha let out a small yelp.

He spread her legs, putting them over his shoulders and pressing down on her with a little bit of his weight. Their faces were inches apart, so he gave her a peck.

He positioned himself at her entrance and slowly entered.

"Ow.." Sasha almost forgot she was a fucking virgin.

"Are ya okay?" He looked at her face with worry, then down to see blood on the bed. "Oh fuck, you're a virgin."

"Well, not anymore." She spoke softly with a small smirk on her face. "You can keep going, I don't care."

Hobie matched her smirk. "I just don't want ya to regret this. I'll take my time."

He slowly pushed more into her, stretching her walls as they clamped down on him.

"It's so big." Her back arched.

"Fuck, ya so fuckin' tight." Hobie moaned out. "I got it all in, I'll move now."

Sasha breathed out and nodded.

Hobie began moving his hips slowly, his hand held her face, making her look at him and only him.

"Oh my God." She squeezed her eyes closed.

"Such a good girl takin' this cock. Takin' it so well." He rolled his hips so perfectly and gently, he was practically touching and reaching everything inside of her.

He looked down to see her stomach bulging from his dick. His finger pressed it, feeling himself move in and out of her.

Sasha wrapped her arms around Hobie, clawing at his back, leaving scratches.

"Yes, Sasha." It's as if he loved the sting the sweat gave the fresh cuts on his back.

She loved the way he said her name with that thick accent.

"I–" Sasha couldn't even speak. She was almost there.

"Ya what?" Hobie teased, speeding up his movements just a little bit. "Use words, love."

"Cum..I'm cumming." He could barely hear her.

"Hmm?" He turned his head and leaned forward so she speak into his ear.

"Cumming." She cried.

"You're gonna cum?" He moved his hips at a slow to fast, then back to slow rhythm.

"Yes Hobie!" Her legs wrapped around his waist.

Hobie leaned further down to hug her small frame. "Oh I can feel it, let it out."

Just as he said that, she released all over his dick.

She trembled beneath him, moaning pure gibberish. She was in paradise, still up high up in her orgasm.

Hobie kept going, not slowing down for a second, but his thrusts got sloppier now that he was nearing his orgasm. "I'm right behind ya, love."

He pulled out and pumped all of his hot cum on her belly. "Fuck..oh fuck." He breathed heavily.

He looked at Sasha who was passed out. He got up to get a wash rag and clean her off. After that, he climbed into the bed beside her, pulling her closer to him and covering both of them with the blanket.

He kissed her forehead and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Next part: –five.

[andie01writing]

AlphaSmuts B - Bite

Bite – They can’t keep their teeth to themselves. 

Ft: Pete Dunne (cuz of course it's him)

            The commotion draws my attention across the room.  Multiple trainers try to restrain Pete Dunne.

  “Good luck with that,” I mutter, packing my bag.

  “Faith, are you going to help here?”

  “Nope.  I pick my fights and that is not one of them,” I smirk.  “I’m out.  Have a good night.”

  “Shari?  Shari!”

  “Just let him go.  He is not going to let you check him out anyway.”

  “That is not how we do things here!”

  “Once he calms down, he will come to me.  I’ll take care of him.  Let him go.”

  “Shari!  Get back here!”

  “See you later,” I call over my shoulder.

                     I lounge on my hotel bed, scrolling through my phone as I wait.  I don’t know why Pete trusts me so much to show his vulnerability while hurt but I definitely know why he chose me for his pain.  Banging on the hotel door cuts my thoughts short.  Making my way to the door, I don’t even check as I open the door.  Pete steps in wordlessly, his hair down and hiding his face.

  “Finally ready to admit you have a boo-boo, Pete,” I smirk.

He glares through his hair at me.

  “You know the drill,” I wave him towards the bathroom and my kit laid out and waiting.  “So what’s wrong tonight.”

He holds his hand up, the hand swollen from his middle finger to pinky and down to his wrist.

  “Wrist, hand, or fingers?”

  “Fingas,” he grunts as I gently probe along his hand.

Turning on my ring light, I study his fingers.  None seem to be dislocated.  “Someone turned your own trick on you,” I smirk.

  “Somethin’ like that,” he sighs, moving to stand behind me, his free hand going to my hip.  His forehead pressing against the back of my skull, breathing deeply.  I pause, waiting to see what he was going to do.  When he doesn’t make any further moves I continue my examination.

  “Stupid question; are you willing to get this x-rayed?”

He shakes his head.

  “Can you move everything?”

He grunts slightly but rotates his wrist and wiggles all five fingers, though the final three’s movement was slightly more limited.

I press along his hand testing the swelling and he inhales sharply.  Moving closer, I feel a hard ridge brush against my ass.

  “There it is,” I think.  “The real reason I am the only one allowed to treat him.  I am the only one he wants to fuck”.  Something about the pain exacerbating his arousal, this whole dance started months ago.

  “Shar?”  Pete’s breath fanning across the back of my neck.  I realize that I had stopped moving, just holding the man’s hand in mine and staring.

  “Is it all three or is the swelling radiating from one of them,” I sigh, digging through the kit.

  “Third finga started swelling and the rest followed.”

  “Take anything?”

  “Bout two ‘ours ago,” he mumbles, his face sliding downward.

  “I’m assuming you iced it.”

  “Yeah.”  His lips brush against my neck.

  “If you want this done right and to last I would hold that thought,” I smirk, my body already reacting to the man.

  “Really,” he chuckles, pulling my body tighter to his with the grip on my hip.

  “Really,” I try to maintain a composed demeanor as thoughts of his plans flash through my mind.  Holding up the medical tape, I stare over my shoulder at him in the mirror.  “Do you want this done right or fast and sloppy?”

He rests his chin on my shoulder, motioning for me to continue with his uninjured hand.

I set to work buddy taping his injured finger to the one next to it.  “Done,” I state as I make sure the finger is stable and secure.

He hums turning to bury himself against my neck. 

I tense knowing what is coming.

He chuckles, mouthing over my pulse but no teeth.  “Why so tense?”

  “Just bracing for what is coming.”

  “Do ya not like what’s comin’?”

  “You know I do,” I sigh, leaning back into the man as my eyes close.  “Just don’t like being taken by…” I yelp as teeth pinch my skin.  “Fucker,” I growl, reaching back to thread my fingers through his hair.

He shrugs banding the arm of his injured hand across my shoulders as his other pins my hips to his.  I groan at the feel him nestled against me.  The need to have him deep inside of me overwhelming my senses.  He mouth continue to nip lightly along the side of my throat.

  “Pete, please,” I pant unsure of what I’m asking for.

  “Hmmmm,” he hums, hand working its way under my panties and against me.

Lowering my mouth, I sink my teeth into the skin of his forearm to hold the groan at bay, my hips rocking back against him on their own accord.  It takes several seconds to realize Pete has stopped moving entirely.  Opening my eyes I find him in the mirror.  He’s staring at my mouth around him.

  “You can give but you can’t take,” I smirk releasing him.  “Maybe…” I cut off as his injured hand comes up to wrap in my hair, yanking my head backwards.  His other hand leaving my panties.  “Playtime over,” I ask innocently.  “Just because I can get as mouthy as you.”

A brief smirk crosses his face before spinning me, his mouth crashing into mine.  I groan, hoisting myself up onto the counter.  Breaking away he steps back slightly and yanking his shirt over his head.  “Doit again,” he orders before attacking my throat again.

I sink my teeth into his deltoid muscle, holding before laving my tongue over the mark and repeating.  His hands fist my sleep shirt.

  “Want my shirt off, Pete,” I sigh against his ear, rubbing him through his shorts.  “Or maybe my panties so you can fuck me while you leave all the bite marks you want on my body.  You know I’ll let you do it.  Always have,” I groan as he bites along the junction between my neck and shoulder.  Unable to move my head again, I press my thumb against a bite mark on his shoulder.  He groans deeply sending vibrations through my chest adding to my arousal without even trying.

  “Everythin’ off…now.”

He moves only long enough for my shirt to disappear before he attacks my torso.

  “Fuck,” I groan as his lips wrap around my nipple.  My hands fumbling to yank my underwear down.

His uninjured hand moves to run two fingers through my slit, humming at what he finds.  He raises his head to grin at me and I attack his mouth, nipping at his lips before releasing him.  “Do it.  Please.”

His head drops biting along the top of my breast, his fingers breaching me and curling.  “Fuck.  Yes.  More.  More.  Please,” I beg, arching up against him.

He obliges repeating his action on my chest as his fingers fuck me, his thumb joining to rub against my clit.  “Yes.  Yes. Yes,” I keen, groping blindly for him.  Giving up on his cock, I grab his shoulder, fingers digging into multiple marks there.

He tosses his head back groaning, a smile on his face.  “Fuck.  Gonna make me cum before I’m even in ya.”

His voice is so rough with pleasure I almost didn’t recognize it.

  “Need ya to cum for me, Shar.  Let me feel ya.  Then I’ll really fuck ya.”

Grabbing a handful of hair I pull his mouth back to me, moments later my release washes over me.  He peppers kisses along my throat as he continues until my body goes slack beneath him.

Yanking me from the counter he carries me one armed to the bed.  Dropping me to the mattress, he shimmies out of his shorts.

  “Nuh uh,” I smirk as he kneels between my legs.  “Not risking you hurting that hand.  You on the bed.”

  “But…”

  “Bed.”

He settles onto his back, and I straddle his hips.

  “Good.” I smirk, sinking slowly down his cock.  “You want me to…”

He is nodding before I finish the sentence.  My teeth sink into his pec and his hips slamming up into me further.  I chuckle against his skin before continuing my rhythm is slow but Pete fucks up into me with each new bite, his thumb slides between us and against my clit.

  “Fuck,” I moan, my tongue lashing over a bite mark.  “So good to me.”  Arching back I fuck myself down on him faster.  Pete urges me faster, baring his teeth in a satisfied grin when I start playing with my breasts, my thumbs sliding over my nipples roughly.  Sitting up he swats my hands away, his mouth and hand taking over, the rhythm of our hips never slowing.  “Fuck Pete.  Gonna come again.”

“Gonna come all over me? Soak my cock. Do it.”  His teeth nipping at my nipple is all the push I need as I come undone, my hips thrashing sloppily along his cock.

Slumping listlessly against him, I allow him to fuck through my orgasm.  “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Pete.  I fucking think I love you.”  Burying my face against his neck, I bite down hard.  The growl Pete releases vibrates my whole body as he stills.  His hand fisting my hair and holding me to his neck as his cock twitches and fills me.  Finally, he releases his hold, allowing me to slide to the mattress beside him.  Slumping back against the pillows beside me, he studies my face.”

  “Pete, I…”

He presses a finger to my lips as he scans my throat and chest.  Finally leaning over me, he presses a soft kiss to my lips.  “I love ya, too Shari.  I’m surprised ya didn’t figure that already.  Even I can’ get hurt that often.”

  “Does that mean,” I start, tracing the bite mark on his chest, “that I don’t have to wait weeks for this again?”

  “Somethin’ like that,” he smirks, tucking me into his side.

[average-drawer]

My little brother just giggled and his sleep and said "Itz the middo finga" (middle finger)

[vintage-tech]

playing with Craiyon/Dall-E again (sorry!)

I was trying to find a different take on ‘naughty’ to see if there’s any way the AI would let anything sexy through. The answer is still kinda-no, but...

...the results still were pretty amazing. Okay, now let’s see what we can do with prehistoric themes. The first one came out pretty awesome:

The second one was a flop but as you may know the AI is amazing in its invention of birds, so telling it to give a pre-bird (flying lizard) ‘the bird’ (yo middle finga) came up with some alarming takes on human anatomy. No pteradactls or actual human hands were harmed in the making of this.

So the mental image I had was: the caves of Lascaux containing dirty pictures. What I got -- and chose to save -- were these two:

Speaking of, what happens if you throw a popular phrase into the mix?

Okay, now we understand why they are single. Final concept, where the first try was nice but I realized I needed to be more specific to get what I wanted, is a medieval tapestry containing The Merc With A Mouth. I would hang all eighteen of these on my walls.

[moderndaybrando]

I always put the smiley face on my middle finga

[harrelltut]

卍 I Throw [I.T.] UP My BIG BLACK MIDDLE FINGA II the powerless riot law on HARRELLTV® 卍

[vanchlo]

Love Story / Green Eyes 5

Read all previous parts here!

Genre: Teacher Harry, soooooo much fluff, and lots of romance.

Warnings: Mention of blood and accidentally cutting oneself with a knife at the beginning.

Word Count: 7.8k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Browse the Inspo Tag here!

Music Inspo: Love Story by Taylor Swift (click to listen to this absolute throwback)

The rolling bubbling of the pot of water fills your ears as you rhythmically chop up the small head of broccoli into bite-size pieces later that night. They make a crunching noise underneath the heavy knife as the heat from the boiling pot spreads throughout the kitchen.

“Harry, the pasta water is ready!” you call to him, looking down at the last few pieces of broccoli you have left to cut up.

“Alright, ‘mma use tha loo quick first, and then ‘ll be there t’ help,” he answers and you reply with an ‘okay’, moving the cut-up pieces aside.  

*Warning: Mention of blood begins here* 

Humming along to the Pink Floyd song trickling from Harry’s record player in the living room, you glance over at the boiling water, hoping it won’t splash everywhere. Unfortunately, you had continued to cut up the broccoli to have with the pasta, and felt a hot sting on your finger. Turning around, you immediately drop the knife onto the counter and notice the blood oozing from the side of your finger in shock. 

“H-Harry!” you shout frantically, dashing over to the sink and turning on the tap. 

“Hold on, bird!” he calls back, the sound of the toilet flushing following his words. 

“Harry!” you almost yell, your breaths starting to quicken as the water whisks away the blood from your finger that burns from the invisible cut. 

“What ‘s it, are ya okay?” he responds gently yet hurriedly, his voice no longer muffled from the bathroom door in between the two of you.

“I-I cut myself with the knife,” you sigh, embarrassment beginning to coat your body as you watch the scarlet run down the sink. 

“‘ll be right there! I know ya don’t like blood, so jus’ breathe in and out, and don’ look if ya don’ want. Are ya runnin’ it unda cold water?” Harry says, urgency in his voice now as you hear the creaking of the floor under his footsteps. 

“Y-yeah, is that what you’re supposed to do?”

“Ya, tha cold helps t’ constrict yer blood vessels t’ help stop tha bleedin’,” he assures you, placing a hand at the small of your back when he arrives in the kitchen. “‘s okay, ‘m here. Yer doin’ a good job, does it hurt?”

“Mmmhmm,” you almost whine, leaning into him briefly when he pecks your cheek. 

“Good girl. ‘m gonna find a rag t’ help stop tha bleedin’, okay? Take some deep breaths, ‘s okay, birdy.”

“Okay,” you manage with a nod, glancing over to the cutting board and knife. “We should probably throw away the broccoli, I’m sorry.”

“We’ll worry ‘bout that afta we get yer finga cleaned up. There’s more broccoli in tha fridge, ‘m mo’ worried ‘bout yer finga. We can replace tha broccoli, but not yer finga, love,” he coos, rubbing his hand against your back like the motion of waving to somebody. Luckily one of you remembers the boiling water and soon you hear the click of the knob twisting to turn the burner off.  

“It hurts,” you whimper, getting the dumb idea to pull it away from the water. Your eyes go wide at the sight of the crimson river flowing from your skin, hitting the silver basin of the sink. 

“Birdy, don’ look at it. Put it back unda tha water, I almost gott’a rag,” Harry insists, but your eyes are only growing bigger and the bottom of the sink is growing darker with the color. “Bird, look at me. Look at me.” You listen to him and glance over to see his large eyes, watching him as he crosses the room from the other side, a tattered gray washcloth in his hand. 

“Keep lookin’ at me- no, don’t look at it. I know ya don’ like blood, so don’t,” he tells you, arriving in front of you. “I want ya t’ gi’mme yer hand and ‘m gonna apply pressure t’ stop tha bleedin’, okay? I want ya t’ look at me tha whole time, not tha blood. Okay?” You nod and turn off the tap with your right hand, but you make the mistake of looking at your hands, just as you would on any other day. 

“H-Harry, that’s a lot of blood. Harry,” you exclaim, words shaking as they spill from your quivering lips. He says your name but you can’t get yourself to stop looking, suddenly feeling a heaviness in your stomach arrive. 

“Baby, look at me,” he murmurs, lifting your chin to look him in the eyes through the tears you didn’t know were there. “‘s okay, ‘m applyin’ pressure now. ‘m sorry if it hurts, but ‘m gonna hafta do it fer a few minutes ‘til ‘s done. Look at me, talk t’ me.” 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m so dumb. I can’t believe I cut myself,” you blurt out, wincing at the pressure he applies and he mumbles a ‘sorry’ before alleviating some of it. 

“Yer not dumb, birdy. ‘ve done it befo’, it happens t’ all o’ us. Even tha good chefs like you and me,” he replies with a small smile, pecking your nose sweetly. 

“Thank you, Harry, and thanks for coming to my rescue. How bad does it look? It’s okay, I won’t look.” He breaks your eye contact and his head falls, unwrapping the cloth from your finger for only a second. 

“It doesn’t look too bad, love, jus’ tha blood makes it look loads worse than it ‘s. You’ll be okay, ya won’t need any stitches I don’ think,” he responds, bringing his eyes back to yours and his other hand trails to your elbow. “C’mon le’ss go sit down, I know blood makes ya queasy.”

You nod and follow him to the small wooden table on the other side of the room where you sit down. He places your joined hands on his thigh and drags the hair away from your face with his other. 

“Deep breaths, no hospital fer you t’day,” he grins, pressing a kiss to your trembling lips.

“This is why I’m not a doctor or a nurse.”

“Ya, yer a teacher, and a mighty good one at that. Keep talkin’ t’ me - what’re we doin’ t’morrow hmm, or how d’ya make homemade pasta?” he continues, making the thoughts buzz around in your head as they blossom anew. A smile graces your lips at the funny way he pronounces pasta, something you had been giving him a hard time about earlier today. 

“Well tomorrow is the first day of finals, so I have Creative Writing, and a section each of World Lit and American Lit,” you explain, him nodding in front of you, dislodging the curls tucked behind his ear. “And the way you make homemade pasta is you mix together eggs, flour an-.”

“Don’t look,” he warns, lifting your chin again to bring you back to him. The heaviness in your stomach returns when you see the dots of the dark blood on the piece of cloth hiding your finger, Harry’s large ones surrounding your hand. “So what else d’ya add t’ tha eggs and flour, hmm?” 

“Um, you add salt and some people add some olive oil. You can add garlic or herbs if you want to be fancy, I guess,” you continue, blowing out a long shaky breath. He nods and his cool fingers feel good against your clammy face when they tuck that rebellious strand of hair behind your ear again. “F-First, you mix the flour and salt together. I like to do it in a bowl, and you make a well in the middle where you crack the eggs. They say they should be room temperature, but sometimes I use them right out of the fridge.” 

“Ya, good. Keep talkin’, honey, yer doin’ great. ‘m excited fer yer pasta, ‘m glad we have it made already, we’ll eat soon. ‘s gonna be so good in yer homemade Alfredo sauce. Keep breathin’, I know it hurts but ‘s okay, baby,” he coos, his fingers stilling on your cheek to cup it, relaxing with you a soft kiss. “Then, what d’ya do? I missed it all coz Gatsby was tryna eat me shoe.” 

Amidst a laugh remembering Harry’s nervousness at the sight, your lips part again, “You take a fork and mix the eggs together in the center, and as you do it you mix in some flour. Slowly, you mix in more and more until you can’t anymore. Then you can use a spatula to combine it all together before you scoop it out onto the floured countertop. You knead it with added flour for maybe five to ten minutes until it’s come together into a ball and is smooth and no longer sticky. After that you should let it rest for fifteen to thirty minutes before you roll it out and cut it, or use one of those pasta machines.” 

“Ah, I see what my birdy was doin’ in here now, lottsa hard work,” he grins, running his thumb back and forth over your warm cheek, the coolness of his rings feeling good. “Yer doin’ so good fer me. Are ya still queasy, or not so much?”

“Not so much,” you answer, continuing to stare into his eyes, which may be the only good part of this. You get to adore him and admire his handsome face all you want and without any teasing from him. 

“That’s good,” he mumbles, happiness curling up his lips. Quickly, you hear the little tip-taps of Gatsby’s paws on the floor and Harry turns his head to watch him. “Hiya, pup. We’re over here. Mummy jus’ got a li’l owie, but ‘m takin’ care o’ her and she’ll be right as rain here soon.” 

A smile finds its way onto your face, despite the tens of other emotions battling to have their way. Harry and you pet him a little bit while he still holds your hand firmly, pressing his thumb against your finger where the cut is. Gatsby walks off with a cloth pizza toy he found forgotten somewhere in the kitchen, despite it already being ripped in half from his monster teeth. 

“Okay, ‘mma take a look and see if we’re ready fer a bandaid. Ya can stay lookin’ at me or look at tha ceilin’, bird,” Harry announces and you nod, but your eyes remain on him. They dance along his expressive eyebrows, the dimples forever there in his cheeks as he bites at his lip, and those lips that could make anything better. “Ya ‘s not so bad, and ‘s already done bleedin’. You jus’ hang tight and imma go grab a bandaid, okay?”

“Okay,” you answer, eyes following his figure as he stands up and walks over to the stove, reaching into a drawer where he pulls out the first-aid kit. “S-Should I look? Is it okay to?”

“I dunno, ‘s kinda gnarly, bird. But ya can if ya want, jus’ don’t want ya t’ get queasy on me again,” he comments, meeting your eyes with warmth tucked into the edges of his smiling lips. Sometimes you feel like you could cry with how lucky you got, watching the muscles flex in his arms as he pries open the box, and how his attention is one hundred percent devoted to you right now. 

“I’m curious,” you reply and sneak a look, realizing it isn’t as bad, just as Harry said. Ugly and a little overwhelming that your body isn’t intact there, but he was right. “Maybe you should’ve been a doctor, you have a good bedside manner.” 

“Erm, I dunno,” he giggles, waving you over to come and wash your hands. “It won’t hurt too much, we’re just gonna wash tha dried blood off,” he explains, turning on the tap as you glide over to him. You follow his instructions and watch the remnants of your little accident escape down the sink drain. “‘ve neva hadd’a interest in medicine or all that. I mean, I don’t mind blood, but I couldn’t see meself doin’ that. Tha bedside manner comes in handy sometimes with parents and tha like at school, tho.’”

“Yeah, you’re so good with the students. I bet that’s why they like you so much, Harry, you’re always so kind to them, you give them your undivided attention, and I’ve never heard you raise your voice.”

“Thanks, bird, that’s real kind o’ you t’ say. I hope that’s why they like me, and not coz I let ‘em eat in class or hand in late work,” he says, gently picking up your hand to lie in his. “‘m just gonna put tha bandaid on next and then we’ll be all done, and ‘ll finish tha rest o’ dinna.”

“Harry, no. I can help,” you insist, but he shakes his head in response. 

“‘s okay, love, I want t’. Ya did everythin’ else, made tha pasta and sauce already. I jus’ hafta boil it and make tha broccoli, and cut up tha fruit. It shouldn’t take too long,” he explains, the sounds of unwrapping the bandage joining his words. Soon his eyes meet yours as he holds your hand up and presses a kiss to your bandaged finger. “All done, ya did so good, birdy. Now go play with Gatsby and relax, ‘ll finish dinna.”

As soon as he turns back after throwing away the trash, your arms go around his middle and your face falls against his chest. ‘Thank yous’ fly from your lips, his soft laugh joining you while his rough beard irritates your forehead. 

“Welcome, birdy, nobody else ‘d ratha take care of than you,” he whispers against your ear, pulling away to look in your eyes. “Feelin’ betta, are we?”

You reply with a silent nod, using your tiptoes a little bit to give him a grateful kiss that you both smile into. ‘Grateful’ could never begin to cover how you feel about getting to call him yours.

*Warning: Mention of blood is over*

*

With heavy, bleary eyes you twist the handle with a yawn, soon blanketing the room in light. Apparently, today is full of firsts, because this morning you’re here before Harry and he’s left his note where you find it right away. You think that the arrangement of roses on your desk gives that away, though, along with the 12-pack box of Coke and tub of Twix candy bars. Your dread for today is washed away at the mere sight of it all, and when you read his long note, it easily knocks you off your feet. You’re grateful that you’re sitting down when you pluck it from the vase of flowers to read. 

Birdy, 

Good morning! If I planned everything correctly, you’ll probably have gotten to the school before me, or so you think ;) Happy 5 months, my love. I can’t believe it’s already been that long, and yet it feels longer, because of how long we’ve known the other. You claim that our anniversary is in September or October, but nah-ah it’s in August when I first kissed you, and that’s that. I won’t get too sappy in this note, because I will see you in a few minutes and also there’s a lot of room for sappy tonight when we celebrate. I just sometimes can’t believe how lucky I got with you. You subbed in my classroom for nine bloody months before we even met, and then you got the job and we teach across the hall from each other now! It couldn’t be more perfect, but Gatsby is the real icing on the cake, as is you moving in with me in just two days! Gats says that he’s more excited than I am, but I don’t believe him, because I’m far more excited. I’m also looking forward to our shared field trip today to see the Shakespeare play with both of our classes. That should be a real hoot listening to our students trying to convince us to date each other, already. It gets to me sometimes having to fake it, and I know it does for you too, so when should we tell them? Or would you rather wait? You had a good point that we’ve hid it for one semester already, so maybe we could do one more. I don’t know, I really want to see the look on their faces when we tell them before we have new students next year and the seniors graduate. Anyways, I’m running out of room here, but I just wanted to tell you how happy I am to have you as my girlfriend for the last 5 months (yes 5, because August is our anniversary, don’t even question me on this). I can’t wait to celebrate with you and Gatsby tonight, we’ll have to tell him the story of how we first met. I know I’ve been thinking about those important stories lately, like when you told me you had gotten the job, remember that one, birdy? It’s my mission to get you to like canoeing one day, or maybe kayaking. I’ll take what I can get :) 

I’ll see you soon for our shared field trip day! I love you more than words could ever say. 

Love, 

Harry xoxoxo

With watering eyes, you laugh softly at the note with a smile adorning your lips. Slowly the memory comes back to you as the sun rises outside your window. 

Although you had been to the beach a few times now with Harry during summer vacation, you still grew nervous every time. You weren’t sure if it was the intimacy of being alone with him, the warmth that came over your entire body when he took his shirt off, the looks you got from other women at the beach when they saw him with you, or the change of events for today. As you waited in your car in the parking lot, the sun baking down on you, the nerves only grew worse as you looked for his black car to pull in. Your anxiousness intensifies along with excitement at getting to see him for the first time in two weeks, seeing as summer has been busy for the both of you. You were especially looking forward to telling him some good news that the both of you had been waiting on for quite some time. 

Out of nowhere, you hear loud music coming from a car that pulls into the space across from you, and sure enough it’s him. Within seconds, he turns off his car and gets out, the song a thing of the past. 

“You’re always late, you know that?” you quip, leaning against your warm car. 

“‘m not late,” he insists, keys jangling in his hands as he twirls them around on his finger. 

“Yes, you are, Harry,” you laugh, turning your wrist so he can see your watch that he doesn’t bother to look at. “You’re always so fashionably late.”

“Oh, quiet,” he smiles, slinging a small black backpack over his shoulder clad in a cream Led Zeppelin shirt. He begins to walk ahead of you and you follow him through the parking lot, his sandals making a clapping nose against the hot tarmac. 

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“‘Course I do, bird. Now, c’mon,” Harry answers, waving an arm towards the beach in front of him.

Soon, you pass the building for bathrooms and where outside showers hang on the walls, little kids already under the cold spray. More cars than you expected sit in the parking lot at ten am, and so you’re surprised to find dozens of bodies laying on towels on the sand. Your focus is whisked away when Harry avoids the long expanse of warm sand, pulling you over in another direction. Quickly, the puzzle pieces come together when you find another small building and a long dock surrounded with canoes and kayaks. The walk is a little awkward as the tarmac slopes down to the water through stretches of trees and grass on this side of the development. 

Not even ten minutes later, you’re both standing in front of a long red canoe with two wooden paddles laid down in the bottom. The attendee had helped you with everything else including payment, getting paddles, lifejackets, and a safety kit. Now, the last thing you have to do is get into the vessel, and luckily the man is already helping somebody else so he isn’t watching. 

“C’mon, bird, what’re you waitin’ fer?” Harry giggles from beside you, tossing his backpack in to land on the dry metal floor of the canoe. You hear clicking as he fastens the buckles of his yellow life jacket, tightening the straps of it and now you’re not sure about all of this. You’d much rather be relaxing on the beach, laying beside him on your towels watching how the sun plays on his freckled back. 

“W-We still have to do sunscreen,” you say quickly, masking the real reason you’re afraid to get in, although now that you’re here it may be more than one. 

“Oh thanks, I forgot,” he answers, reaching forward to grab his backpack which he pulls a tube of sunscreen out of. “Here, ‘ll do ya first. Can ya move yer hair outta tha way, please?”

You nod and with a gulp, pull your hair into a makeshift bun that you hold there. Your skin already buzzes as you hear him squirt it into his hands, and then he begins to rub it along your exposed shoulders and neck. A breath hitches in your throat at the feeling of his fingers gentle along your skin, and then too soon the feeling is fleeting. 

“There ya go, I got yer neck and shoulders. Will ya do mine now?” he hums and you mumble a confirmation, turning around to face him. “Here, take tha rest,” he titters, holding out his hands covered in the white goo. You laugh and slide both hands against his until he’s transferred most of the sunscreen to your hands, then turning around. 

A bare tan hand swipes across his neck to hold up his short curls, exposing his sunkissed neck. Slowly, you approach him and rub circles onto the back of his neck, and then across his freckled shoulders. The lifejacket covers the rest of his back, and again you wish you were on the beach so you could get to rub the rest into his long warm back. Later, you hope silently as you finish covering the last few patches of his skin. 

“There,” you announce, already rubbing the rest of the sunscreen onto your arms. 

“Bloody hell, bird. Ya neva tan, d’ya?” he smirks, turning around with the bottle of sunscreen in his hands. 

“No, I burn.”

“I know, I rememba tha first day we came here this summa. Poor girl, I had t’ rub aloe all ova you when we got back t’ my place,” he giggles nostalgically, and you groan at the memory. Your back and shoulders peeled for days, and it just hurt to sleep, but Harry was so sweet. He stopped at a shop just to buy aloe vera, then stuck it in the fridge because he said that’s a good trick to make it work even better. Then he bought you a little aloe vera plant that has since become a running joke between the both of you. 

“Don’t remind me,” you sigh, holding out your cupped hands when he nears you, squirting a big dollop of the cream into your hands. 

“Where d’ya wanna go fer lunch later?” 

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” you muse aloud, bending over to spread the white cream all over your legs until you reach the hem of your denim shorts. 

“How ‘bout Hewie’s Pizza? ‘s only a few minutes away, and we haven’t been there in a while.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe I forgot about that place!” you exclaim, covering the rest of your arms. 

“I know, but ‘m not eatin’ yer bloody Hawaiian pizza, ‘s gross.”

You giggle at his comment, plucking the tube of sunscreen from between his chest and bicep where he holds it. 

“That’s fine, more for me then.”

“Sure, whateva ya say, bird,” he replies, standing back up now with slightly ghostly looking hairy legs. “Here, will ya do my face fer me? Y’know I hate that part.”

“Of course,” you answer, rubbing the tips of your fingers together with the cream as you stop in front of him. He lifts his chocolate brown Ray Bans and pulls them back to rest on his head, taking his curls with it. 

So far, this may be your favorite part, because for some reason he hates putting sunscreen on his face. He chalks it up to getting it in his eye once, and how it feels suffocating or something. You’re not sure how it’s any better that you’re doing it, but nonetheless, him placing his trust in you makes you feel better than you’d like to admit. 

He pulls his lips in between his teeth and closes his eyes as you begin to smear the

cream over his forehead. You struggle a little when you get to his beard, and the both of you laugh, but luckily he’s kept it rather thin these days. You attribute that to the hot summer you’ve both been enjoying. He’s had to have been clean shaven some days, you guess, but unfortunately you’ve yet to have had the chance to enjoy that sight. 

“Why don’t you just shave it all off? It’s summer, Harry,” you pose, swiping carefully under his eyes and rubbing it in until it disappears. “Doesn’t it get too warm with it?”

“No, ‘s not that bad if I keep it trimmed all thin. ‘s a pain t’ shave all off cuz ‘s hard t’ grow back, ‘specially tha patchy parts,” he groans, grimacing when you smear it above his eyes. 

“I like the patchy parts, it’s normal.”

“Ya, but they’re embarrassin’ as a guy, bird.”

“Oh,” you hum, finally returning to the difficult part of rubbing it into his scratchy beard that reaches to the edge of his jaw and even across his upper lip. 

He thanks you once you’ve rubbed sunscreen into every inch of his face, and then you tackle your own after tossing him the sunscreen. 

“Ready now?” he asks, zipping his backpack up, and when you open your eyes you swear he couldn’t look cuter. “What?” 

“Nice hat,” you answer with a smile, watching him pull a very ‘Dad’ looking Hard Rock Cafe gray cap over his curls. Although it’s cute and dorky at the same time, you miss the curls that now only remain by his ears and at the nape of his neck. “You know, you should just shave it all off and keep the mustache.”

“Ya, no thanks. I already know ‘d look weird.” 

“No, you wouldn’t!” you protest, pulling on the straps to tighten your blue life jacket. You can’t help yourself and admire his outfit today as he rummages around in his backpack for something. 

“Like me outfit, birdy?” he asks, sensing your eyes on him. After returning the backpack to the bed of the canoe, he holds out his arms with a proud smile. 

“Yeah, you look like a proper outdoorsy boy.”

“Good, that’s what I was goin’ fer. Jus’ not a boy, y’know a man,” he comments with a proud nod as your eyes dance along his body. 

Sometimes you wonder why he does this to you, wearing such things as these short yellow swim trunks that leave very little to the imagination. On the other hand, why he can’t keep a shirt on when he’s at the beach, whether it was that day where it was raining or it was hot as the pits of hell. You wish sometimes that you could be as confident as him when you’re in his presence. From your few visits to the beach this summer, when you stripped down to just your swimsuit, he was always very kind and sometimes you sensed his eyes on you. 

Pulling you from your memories, Harry’s voice comes back to you, waving you over to the canoe. “C’mon, love, let’s get a goin’,” he insists. “Ya wanna gett’in first?”

“I guess, but it’s kind of scary how much it moves.”

“‘s okay, you’ll be alright. Here, I’ll put my foot in t’ steady it. Gimme yer hand and you gett’in tha front and sit down. ‘ll be in tha back steerin’,” he tells you. He doesn’t have to ask twice for you to hold his hand, you think wistfully, stepping forward to do just that. Without a hitch, you take a seat in the front of the canoe, albeit the canoe rocking back and forth a few times from your weight and then Harry’s.

“Alright, grab yer paddle and I want ya t’ paddle once on each side. So, ya need t’ switch it up e’rytime. ‘ll take care o’ steerin’ but jus’ listen t’ what I say and we’ll be good. Alright, bird?”

“Okay,” you answer, the wood of the paddle smooth under your palms. You dip it into the water and paddle once on each side, soon pulling away from the dock with Harry’s voice in your ears. 

*

“‘m neva goin’ canoein’ with you again,” Harry tuts with a sigh, hoisting his backpack over his shoulder. 

“Neither am I, all you do is get me wet,” you reply, pulling at the hem of your t-shirt, airing it out as wet patches dot the fabric. 

“Yer shit at paddlin’, that’s why.”

“Yeah, I totally did it to myself,” you scoff, trekking up the inclined tarmac and away from the canoeing dock. A few seconds later, Harry’s phone rings and he steps away to answer it. Sighing, you walk away with crossed arms, remembering how he bitched about having to do all of the paddling. At times, he was joking and although you did your best, sometimes he was serious. Then, he thought it would be funny to splash water all over you with his paddle. The both of you laughed it off, but the end of the canoe trip was tense and you knew that the both of you were disappointed. Him, especially. 

With his voice escaping you the further you walk away, you soon come upon the boat landing where a long dock sits. Your eyes light up at the sight of a pair of geese swimming around the reeds hugging the shoreline. Your feet quicken when you spot the fuzzy yellow bodies of their few babies following them, and you take a seat on the end of the wooden dock to watch them. The disappointment and embarrassment from Harry’s planned canoe outing is fleeting as you admire the parent geese and their quacking babies swimming around looking for food. They had strayed away from you once you had sat down, but you remain quiet as you watch them. 

“‘s ‘bout time I found you. Ah, I see why ya wandered ova here. Aren’t they jus’ gorgeous?” Harry coos as his loud footsteps shake the dock at first, then they soften when he sees the geese who back away from him. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize gently, sliding off your other sandal to set on the dock, until all that’s left on your body are your clothes and your suit underneath. The water is warm when you dip your feet in, kicking them back and forth. 

“‘s okay, I think I had my hopes too high.”

“Hey!” you argue, swatting his arm playfully when he takes a seat beside you. 

“I gotta realize not e’rybody can be as good at canoein’ as me,” he teases, slinging an arm around you to pull you against his chest. You scoff at him, pitching your shoulder into his chest, but his arm stays around you as his delightful giggle surrounds you. “They take such good care o’ their babies, don’ they?” he muses, eyes flitting to the geese who have begun to swim away, one of their heads underwater searching for food. 

You mumble a confirmation, flitting your eyes to Harry whose hat hair makes you smile. Thoughts about how good he always has taken care of you trickle into your mind as you now admire him. He runs a hand through his crazy curls, but his attempt to tame them is pointless. It’s even adorable how he squints at the geese, the sun shining off the water and into his bare eyes after the both of you had stuffed everything into his backpack before leaving the canoe. 

“Have they called you yet?” he questions casually, eyes following the geese who quack at their young. 

“Who?”

“Y’know who,” he replies, turning his head to look at you, the freckles standing out on his golden skin. His eyebrows fall as he looks back at you and then rise in a question. “Tha principal ‘bout yer interview.” 

“Oh, that who,” you answer, and he nods as he waits for you to continue. For some reason, you get to your feet and reach for your sandals, the geese swimming away in the distance now. “Yeah, they called this morning.”

“And what’d they say, bird?” Harry inquires, the dock squeaking as he too gets to his feet. You can hear it in his voice, the anxiousness and also excitement for your answer. 

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, sure that by now he’s thinking that your answer will be ‘no.’ He confirms that when he places a hand on your shoulder, his nickname for you falling from his lips. The second you turn around, you find his sad eyes imploring yours for the answer, but no longer can you hide your smile. 

“I got the job,” you announce softly in between grinning lips. Your smile only grows at the appearance of his that paints his entire face with a declaring ‘yes!’ escaping his lips. Your surprise and elation deepen when he picks you up and swings you around in a circle. 

“Ya get t’ work across tha hall from me, birdy! We get t’ be colleagues! Yes, ’m so excited,” he exclaims as you giggle into his chest, securing your arms around his neck as his sit around your waist. 

“Me too, you have no idea.”

“Bet ‘m mo’ excited than you are,” he argues, finally setting you down after you complained of getting dizzy. He giggles above you, his arms still around your waist. 

“I bet you aren’t.”

“Bet I am,” he disagrees, a hearty chuckle leaving his grinning lips. “I can’t wait, bird,” he muses happily, pulling you in for a hug. 

“Does this mean I’m forgiven for the crappy canoe ride then?”

“Ya, I can’t be mad at you right now,” Harry answers, his straight white teeth sparkling as he looks down at you happily. 

“Good. Let’s just hope we don’t get sick of each other too quickly.”

“Oh ‘m sure we will, bein’ across tha hall from eachotha. But that’s okay, cuz once we make up we’re only a few steps away from tha otha,” he decides and you nod as a finger twirls one of the curls falling against the back of his neck. “Me favourite coworker.”

“Mine too.”

“C’mon, let’s go ova t’ tha beach. I have those li’l bottles o’ wine in me bag I packed jus’ fer this. ‘ll even give ya a piggyback ride ova, bird,” he smiles, brushing his thumb across your flushed cheek. 

“You’ll regret it.”

“Nah, ‘m strong,” he teases in a deep voice that makes you laugh. He pecks you on the cheek surprisingly before walking away. “But you hafta carry me bag.”

You hum an ‘okay’ as you thread your arms through it and slide your sandals on, soon walking up to where he crouches at the end of the dock. Your giggles fill the air as he carries you across the hot tarmac on his back with his arms under your knees and your arms around his neck. 

The rest of your afternoon consisted of a nap or two on your towels beside the other, and one of them is interrupted when he scoops you into his arms to take you down to the water he throws you into. At one point, swimming out in the deep water by the tall buoys, Harry swims under you and sticks you on his shoulders amidst your protests. Although warm, the personal sized bottles of wine were a nice treat after your good news that kept the both of you glowing for the rest of the day. You got your wish and slathered sunscreen on him a few hours later, even down the slope of his tan back and across his multitudes of tattoos you somehow had missed. Your day was finished with a pizza and beers at Hewie’s before goodbye hugs, and you were sure this might be the best summer ever. You can’t even believe that soon you’ll have the best job ever, right across the hall from your favorite person in the world, and your new best friend. 

*

The memory fleeting, a nervous huff leaves your lips as you rifle through your plain backpack that you had pulled from your closet for this occasion. You shove a few more things from your desk into it, trying to blink back the exhaustion that tugs at your eyes. The zipping of the backpack is the only sound you hear as you stand at your desk, the chirping of birds an absence now in the winter. 

“Hiya, bird,” a voice murmurs from right behind you, causing you to jump out of your shoes. Harry’s giggle tickles your ears as his arms come around your waist. “I always love scarin’ you.” 

“I can tell,” you mumble, adjusting the list of names on the clipboard. His nose brushes against your cheek as you pluck a pen from the cup on your desk, clipping it to the sheet of paper. 

“Mmmm, how are ya this mornin’, bird? Only two more days ‘til I get t’ wake up t’ ya e’ryday, ‘m so excited.”

“So am I, and I’m good, just tired. How are you, babe?” you reply, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax in his strong arms. 

“‘m great, cuz I get t’ spend tha entire day with me birdy, and ‘s our five month anniversary.”

“Happy five months, and do we really get to spend the entire day together?” you reply, feeling his warm lips against your cheek where he plants kisses along your skin. 

“I think so. ‘s our field trip day t’day.”

“You better get all of those kisses out of your system before the students get here soon, or else it’s going to be an especially long day of faking it,” you announce, turning around in his arms and opening your eyes to find his sleepy ones. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” he smirks, dipping to press a long kiss to your lips. You giggle into it at first before savoring the way your lips move together effortlessly. 

“Yeah, get it all out before having to be around me all day without any touching,” you mumble against his plump lips. 

“Shhh, yer wastin’ precious time, bird, our students will be here soon,” he whines before pressing on the back of your head, returning your lips to his. 

He drags his teeth along your bottom lip as he pulls away with a smug giggle, smashing his lips against yours once more. Your hands roam across his chest and down the front of his army green quarter-zip, and then to his bum hugged by khakis. The second you saw him, you think this may be your new favorite outfit of his, and that he must do this to tease you. 

“I don’t know how I’ll keep my hands off you today in that outfit,” you tease him, sliding your hands into the back pockets of his pants as he giggles. 

“Yer not very innocent yerself, miss,” he concurs, dragging a finger down your spine covered in your maroon Columbia zip up. “Yer bum looks amazin’ in these pants, y’know. Jus’ beggin’ t’ be touched, love,” Harry finishes as his fingers follow his words to your ass that he squeezes firmly. 

You end his words with your lips atop his, the clean citrus scent always covering him returning to you. His giggles tickle your lips when he continues to trap your bottom lip between his teeth mischievously, leaving a sting on your skin after it leaves the confines. Soon, you’re the one giggling when your hands slide under the thick yet soft fabric of his sweater, finding the smooth feeling of his cream button-up underneath that you swiftly untuck. 

“Bird,” he mumbles in between hasty kisses, grabbing your attention with a quick pinch of your bottom. 

“What?” you snicker nonchalantly, sneaking a hand under the freed fabric, hearing him inhale when your fingernails drag down his warm chest. 

“Ya drive me crazy, y’know that?”

“It’s mutual,” you answer with a hiccup when his hand slaps your ass softly, followed by his giggling.��

When you both hear the beginnings of voices trailing from down the hall, sad sighs leave your lips before he whisks them away with a deep kiss. 

“Love you,” he murmurs with another peck. 

“I love you too,” you answer behind loving eyes, watching him swiftly tuck his button up back into his firm fitting khakis with a shake of his head. Unsurprisingly, you even find him doing that as handsome. It must be the attraction of domesticity, or something like that. “Happy five months.”

“Yay, ya finally got it right. Happy five months, birdy,” he giggles. “How’re ya gonna hide tha flowers, hmm?”

“I don’t know, I’ll just say they were from somebody else.”

“Nah, ya should say they’re from a guy and see how yer students squirm,” Harry suggests playfully, adjusting his quarter zip as he leaves your classroom. “Thanks for the help, Y/N, I’ll see ya on tha bus soon!” he calls to you from the hallway, soon greeting a student he meets in the hallway. 

The next half hour you find taking attendance and waiting to leave hard, and your impatience shines through. Many of your students are also feeling the same way, you find, and they’re showing signs of tiredness too. You only wish that you could get away with taking a little nap on the bus like you’re sure that they plan to, but alas you can’t as their teacher. 

Soon, you’re stepping onto the large coach bus that both of your classes have filled. Luckily, not all of your students had gone on the field trip, and so both classes fit on the bus, but you aren’t sure where to sit. You really didn’t want to spend two hours both ways sitting by a student, and you hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

“Y/N, ova here!” a voice calls to you amidst the loud conversations filling the bus. You couldn’t be happier to find who said it, and how they pat the seat next to them at the front of the bus. “Come sit by me, already.” 

“I want the inside, Harry,” you respond with a grin, watching him stand up and try not to hit his head on the ceiling, letting you in. 

“Oooooo, Ms. Y/N and Mr. Styles are sitting together up front!” Sabrina exclaims, and several other students echo her comment. Rolling your eyes, you plop down onto the seat against the window, listening to Harry shushing them before the driver pulls away. 

“Ready fer Romeo and Juliet, love?” he mumbles to you, a smile climbing its way up his cheeks as his knee bumps into yours. You wish it could stay there, but already with the prying eyes of your many students, you know you can’t. Sometimes, this hide and seek game isn’t so much fun, you muse silently, knowing that it shows in your eyes and in his too. Surprisingly, you feel a hand on top of yours, and there’s a firm squeeze before it’s gone. “Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.” 

“Shut up, you dork,” you giggle, winking at him before you turn to look out the window, watching the high school slowly shrink behind you. 

“Mr. Styles is reciting Romeo and Juliet to Ms. Y/N! Ask her on a date already! Come on!” 

“Would ya lot quiet down? Bloody hell, go and watch Netflix on yer phones and leave us alone,” Harry calls teasingly to the bus full of teenagers as you shake your head, nudging your foot against his. “My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep. The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.” 

“My Juliet,” he mouths to you, giving you a nod and your cheeks drown in a warm blush.

“Wherefore art thou, Romeo?” you whisper in response, raising your eyebrows at him, giggling when he points at his chest. 

“God, would you two date already?!” 

[middlefingazupxo]

𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐱 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭

👤: @𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐲𝐫𝐧

📸: @𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭

[scottybrock]

Five Fingas To The Face - Colby Brock

A/N: Requested by a beautiful anon: “can you do a platonic Sam and Colby imagine where you beat the crap out of brennen Taylor because he was being rude to people in your friend group (it can be anyone), and en Colby, because he’s closer to Brennan, gets mad at you, and sam’s by his side, but may or may not be stifling a smile? Thanks”

How did you get into this position in the first place?

The short answer is, you don’t know when to keep your mouth shut. The long answer? Well… 

“Yo,” Your worst nightmare called as he entered the apartment that you shared with Colby. You scowled at your roommate and best friend. “Did you invite that shitstain of humanity?” You asked, your face set into an annoyed expression. Colby frowned at you. “Hey,” He sounded semi-offended. “Brennen is one of my best friends and-” You rolled your eyes, stalking out of the room. You’d heard the lecture before, and you weren’t in the mood to hear it again. 

“Hey,” Brennen tried as you stalked past him, into the kitchen. You ignored him, rummaging through the fridge. Brennen raised an eyebrow at you. “Maybe you should lay off the food,” His voice was snide. “You’re looking a little thick these days, and not in the good way.” For a moment, you genuinely thought that you might punch him in the face. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it- he was a horrible person, and his company always sucked major ass. But he was one of Colby’s friends, no matter how much neither you nor Sam liked it. 

You slammed the fridge closed harder than you needed to, then turned to Brennen. He raised an eyebrow at you, smirking. “Shut the fuck up,” You snapped, baring your teeth at him slightly as you spoke. Colby wandered into the room. “Leave Brennen alone,” He commanded. You glared at him, astonished. “But Brennen said-” Colby simply turned away from you, ignoring you. You scowled, then stormed to your room.

“The trash bag is in the building, repeat,” You hissed into your phone. “The trash bag is in the fucking building.” Sam hummed in response, then sighed. “Want me and Kat to come over? Jake and Tara, too?” You practically screamed in excitement, nearly delirious with happiness over the fact that you didn’t have to deal with Brennen by yourself. You heard Sam laugh in response. “I’ll take that as a yes,” He teased. You laughed along with him. “Come here as soon as possible,” You begged. 

“Has he been that bad, already?” Sam asked, his voice incredulous. You groaned. “He already called me fat.” Was your simple reply. There was dead silence on the other line. Finally, Sam spoke. “I’ll fucking kill him.” You immediately made a noise of protest. “No! I get first dibs!” You pouted. You heard Sam laugh once more. “We’ll be there in five,” He told you, then hung up. 

You trudged back out into the living room. Colby beamed at you. Brennen’s smile looked more like a leer. You rolled your eyes, then flopped onto the couch beside Colby. “Sam, Kat, Jake, and Tara are going to come over in about,” You glanced at your phone. “Four minutes.” Colby nodded, his expression bright. Brennen’s expression darkened at the mention of Sam. 

A knock on the door sounded, and you cheerily called for them to come in. A blur of blue hair sprinted across the room, and then you had an armful of Katrina. She beamed at you, giving you a quick squeeze. Tara trailed behind her, then joined in on the hug. Sam and Jake offered you warm smiles, and you grinned back at them, relieved that they were here so you didn’t have to deal with Brennen on your own.

Sam and Jake offered Brennen a polite smile and waves. Brennen looked like he had to shit- his smile was strained and more fake than Kraft American Singles. Colby shifted, looking rather uncomfortable. He got up to greet his two best friends. Brennen’s expression darkened. 

A few hours later, the group was scattered around the living room. Snacks were being eaten, drinks were being sipped on, and it was a pretty pleasant time- until Brennen opened his big fucking mouth. “Remember when Colby pretended to have Kat cheat on Sam with him?” He asked, either ignoring or missing the sudden tenseness in the room.

You fought the urge to smack Brennen across the face. Colby looked unenthused at the memory that was brought up. You remembered that night so clearly; the night where Sam and Colby’s friendship was put to the ultimate test. What Colby didn’t film, was Sam calling you and crying into the phone about the percieved betrayal.

Brennen winked at Kat, who stiffened, her friendly smile disappearing. “It’s okay,” Brennen’s voice was slimy. “I’d cheat on Sam with Colby, too.” He glanced over at Sam, who was frowning, his shoulders slumping. Your glare could’ve melted metal, and your hands were clenched into fists. 

“If I were you,” You began, your voice low and dangerous. “I would shut the fuck up. Right now.” Brennen merely scoffed at you, rolling his eyes. “It was a joke,” He replied, shrugging. Your mouth twisted into a snarl, and your eyes darkened with rage. “No,” You hissed. “Your life is a fucking joke.” 

Colby opened his mouth to try and resolve things, but Brennen cut him off. “And you’re fat!” Brennen snapped. Sam and Jake leapt up, angry words forming on their lips. You shook your head, signaling for them to sit down. “At least I’m not a fucking rapist!” You shouted back at him. “What, you can’t get girls on your own, so you have to fucking rape them?” 

A pin drop could be heard in the deathly silent room. Brennen stood up, walking so that he was directly in front of you. He lifted a hand and slapped you across the face. This time, Colby leapt up from his seat. You ignored the hands reaching out for you, instead, flinging yourself onto Brennen, your fists beating against him as hard as you could. “You stupid mother fucker!” You shrieked as you punched Brennen as hard as you could. You landed a great, solid punch to his nose. You felt it crumble beneath your fist, and your grin was feral. Your knuckles ached, but you didn’t stop; dumb bitch needed to learn his lesson. 

Brennen wailed from underneath you, trying to cover his face. It took all three of the boys to pull you off of the trash bag human beneath you. Much to your delight, Brennen’s face was bloody, and his nose looked crooked and broken. You cackled gleefully. There was a bruise forming on your face, in the shape of a tiny hand. From a person with an even tinier penis. 

You shook your hand out, then turned to your friends. Colby looked both amused and horrified- he looked like he wasn’t sure which one he should be. Katrina was openly smirking, one hand clasped by Sam, who was biting back a smile. Tara was beaming, bouncing on her toes. Jake just shrugged, a hint of a smile on his face when he met your eyes. 

Brennen was staring at you, blood dripping down his face. “I’m sending you the bill when I get my nose fixed,” He snapped, his voice sounding distorted due to his broken nose. You simply flipped him off. “Sit and spin, bitch.” You replied, your middle finger bent at an odd angle. Brennen huffed loudly, then looked at Colby, who was still frozen in place. Brennen scowled, then gathered his things and left. 

Sam launched himself at you, hugging you fiercely. “If that asshole sends you the bill for real, give it to me,” Sam murmured in your ear. Even though Brennen had it coming for a long, long time, you’d broken your hand defending Sam and Kat, and their relationship. You grinned, then winced, shaking out your hand. 

You turned to your group of friends, grinning sheepishly. “Can someone take me to the hospital? I think I broke my hand on that ugly little rat bastard’s face.” 

[sasukelore]

So is anyone gonna tell you your a really terrible writer. I’ll do it for them 🙂

succ on these middle fingas

[apakmasters]

Blast @ Fuck NiGGaZ wit my Middle Finga!!!

[abimee]

cat outta the bag I'm talking about Mettaton who has that silly hamburger helper three fingers and a thumb layout cause he canonically didn't know how many fingas humans have. I need to know where he'd wear it on his goofy hands

if a character only has four fingers which finga do they wear their wedding ring on

[isisthelegend]

Middle finga to the bullshit!

[nightslikethisff]

Prologue

August.

I wake up ta banging’ at ma door. I know who it is but damn I was getting a lil nap in real quick. Throwin the blanket off I trudge to the door. As soon as I open the door I stagger back a lil thanks ta Isabelle jumpin up on me. Chucklin I hug her back “I missed ya too” Giggling she hops done smiling extra hard. “I missed you so much Aug” Grabbing ha suitcase we head in tha house, “Damn girl you moving in” Shooting me ha middle finga she plopped down on the couch. “Fuck you Aug you know I pack heavy.” “Yeah I know I'm jus glad ya got off work ya been workin like crazy” “I know man its been what two weeks since we last saw one another? This nurse life is stressful sometimes but I wouldn't trade it”

Na I know ya’ll like its only been two weeks & they doing all dat’. But Isabelle is ma best friend’ Like we close as hell always togetha so that two weeks feel like five on the real. && besides she only stay about 15 min from me so thas how ya know she was busy as hell and I just got back in town myself from a lil show I did. Shit was sold out too but I don’t wanna brag.

“Did you get my wine?? I told you to have me a glass poured when I got here Aug” Isabelle yelled from the couch. Grabbing the already poured glass of wine I sat it on the table in front of ha. Smiling she took a large sip. “Yea’ shut ya mouth Belle” Still feeling’ lazy I laid back on the couch with my arms restin on ma forehead. “I’m tired too lets nap” Isabelle crawled & laid on top of me. Her face was nested in my neck so I knew she was bout ta be knocked out. “Goodnight wake me in an hour” Giving my neck a quick peck she drifted off to sleep.

Once again ya’ll probably thinkin’ oh they more den friends but we really aint. We just hella close of course ppl think we dating but tbh idgaf’ we know we aint dating & thas all that matters but aye let me get this quick nap in.

[pallakos]

Middle finga to yo punk ass