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harrysgloves · 5 years ago

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Let Your Hair Down (chapter xi)

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word count: 6,521

story summary: Harry gets more than he bargains for when he falls not only for you but your little girl as well.

chapter summary: Date night!

warnings: Language.. and SMUT! YAY! male&female receiving oral/use of the word puppy/fingering/squirting.. oh and some nice fluffy things at the end.

a/n: okay buckle up for a long one folks! I didn’t want to split the date night chapter up so... it’s a bit long but I’m pretty sure 75% of it is them screwing.. so you know.. Uh also editing not possible with this shit internet I’m forced to use tonight so.. keep that in mind. Enjoy! xx

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"Where are we going?" You asked for what had to be the millionth time and he responded with the same smile and shake of his head that he'd been answering you with all night. You huffed and leaned back into your seat, arms crossing over your chest. You'd been in the car for over 15 minutes and you still had zero idea where you could be going.

You could see the enjoyment he was getting out of you getting so frustrated over this. You hated surprises and it's not like he didn't know that about you. The last surprise birthday party you had when everyone jumped out and said happy birthday, you screamed. Then cried until your anxiety passed. Sarah had never given you a surprise party after that.

"You know I hate surprises." You mumbled under your breath. Your eyes glued to the window watching all the buildings pass by you. You just needed a hint. Really anything to ease your mind. What if he decided to take you skydiving? Nope. You needed answers.

"I know." Was all he said back. That dumb smirk still plastered on his aggravatingly gorgeous face. You rolled your eyes and let out another huff.

"Cheer up. You'll love it once we get there." His hand reached over and rested on your leg.

"Oh no, you're not touching me until you tell me where we're going." You pushed his hand off your thigh and crossed your legs. This bitch really thought he could just say you'd love it and you'd trust him. He obviously didn't know you very well.

Your eyes were still glued to the window when you heard him laugh. His hand resting back on your thigh. Making you whip your head around towards him. You weren't sure what part of you're not touching me he didn't get but you were about to show him how serious you were being when the car came to a stop.

"We're here. So, can I touch you again?" His cheeky smile across his face as his thumb rubbed small circles on your thigh. You ignored him and looked around to see where you were.

Your eyes widened once you realized where you were. A bright smile across your face as you turned to Harry who was already looking at you. He looked worried about your reaction, his hands running nervously through his hair. You couldn't not throw yourself across the car and kiss him. He was the sweetest.

"What's that for?" He smiled against your lips, his hands running through your hair.

"I can't believe you remembered I've never been here. I told you that like a year ago." You laughed. Your forehead resting against his as you took in a deep breath, too much more of his thoughtful shit and you'd be a pile of mush on the ground.

"Always listen to yeh." He whispered softly before pulling you back in for a kiss and it was official, you were completely fucked over him.

It took you a bit to finally get out of his car. You weren't above sleeping with him right there to show him how happy he'd made you but he kept pushing your hands away, laughing.

"Come on, I can't keep sayin' no to ya much longer and I want us to actually go on a date."

A big pout was on your lips as he kissed your nose and reached for the door handle. Really, you didn't have to go. You were just happy he listens to you. It was a complete 180 from what you were used to before with your ex and you wanted to show him you appreciate his efforts. You eventually decided you'd show him later as he pulled you out of the car. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist as you walked side by side.

"Still can't believe you've never been to Coney Island Boardwalk." He pulled you in closer to him as you walked up a few steps and were finally on your first Boardwalk, ever.

"Never been to any boardwalk." You pulled back from him and took his hand in yours as you took in all the things around you. Sure, you'd seen boardwalks on movies and stuff but nothing compared to it in real life. It was so noisy and a lot more bright than you expected.

"How come?" Harry asked as he pulled you by your hand closer into his side. It was definitely more crowded than you were expecting it to be and you started to get a bit anxious at the thought of people stopping you two a million times to ask Harry for a picture. Maybe he hadn't really thought this through too well.

"My mom hates the beach so we never went when I was a kid." You laughed softly at the thought of her ever being around a beach. She really had an issue with sand.

"Then when I got older I just got busy. I never really had time to take vacation then Thea came along and all free time went out the window." You shrugged, never really caring that you'd missed out on something.

"Can't believe you've come here though. How do people not stop you all the time?" You looked up to him. Hoping he could put your worries at ease but the look on his face did the exact opposite. He looked so uncomfortable it made your skin crawl.

"Jus' part of life now." He tightened his grip on your hand when he started to chew the inside of his cheek. You realized life with him would never be normal. Or at least the type of normal you wanted.

"Oh." Was oh you could mumble out. You knew he caught the sight of your face falling slightly but he chose to ignore it. Which was probably for the best. You didn't want to ruin the night with your over thinking before it even started.

The awkward tension between you two quickly went away when you both got the area with all the games. You knew those games were nothing but a rip off. You'd end up spending double what any of the stuffed animals were actually worth but when you saw the large pink teddy bear you stopped in your tracks, making Harry stumble a bit, your hand still clutched in his.

"Oh my God," you pointed to the prize waiting to be won. "Thea would love that. We should try to get it."

"She would love it." Harry smiled up at the teddy bear, your eyes moving over to take him all in. Sometimes you had a hard time believing he could be so invested in not only you but your daughter as well.

You eagerly pulled him up to the stand, basically dragging him. You'd only tried a handful of times at this particular game at local fairs in your hometown. You had to throw a dart and pop so many balloons to get the prize. You were thanking your lucky stars you were a pro at darts from all the times you spent in a dingy bar back in your college days.

"How many?" The probably underpaid teenager asked when you both finally made it to the front.

"Uhm, just five." Harry let go of your hand to take out his wallet and laid down a 5 dollar bill.

"Hit one and you get a small prize. Three for any of the top shelf." The guy stepped to the side, letting Harry attempt to throw a dart. Which was the most tragic thing you'd ever witnessed. He missed all five times.

"How are you so bad at this?" You asked, trying to contain your giggles. Even the game attendant looked a little amused.

"Aye, I didn't have time to run around and play with darts." He huffed reaching back for his wallet but you stopped him. You slammed down your own five dollar bill and asked for five of your own darts.

"Gonna have to teach you some things." You smiled bright at him as you turned back around and threw a dart and hit on the first try. You could hear his unimpressed grumble from behind you but as your 5th dart in a row hit a balloon he looked at you in shock.

"How'd you do that?" He asked, his brows furrowed as he looked at the board with balloons pinned on it like it had personally betrayed him.

"Beer darts in the college bars." You shrugged but a proud smile was on your face as you were handed the oversized pink teddy bear. You quickly reached up and put it on Harry's shoulders for him to carry around for you. He gripped tightly onto the bears legs as you two moved on back into the crowd.

"Ohhhhh," you drew out as the sweet smell of fried foods filled your senses. "They have funnel cake!"

"Should have guessed we'd be heading right for the sweets." Harry smiled down towards you as you pushed his shoulder.

"I run on nothing but sugar and sleep deprivation." You pushed him towards the stand with the huge sign that said funnel cakes.

You both moved over to the side where no one was walking as you started to shove your mouth full of the powder sugar covered deep fried batter. Harry chuckled from beside you making you look up from your plate.

"Shut up." You rolled your eyes at him as you went back to happily eating your food.

"Y'got some on yer face, love." His smile didn't leave his face as his hand came up to wipe away some of the powder sugar from the corner of your mouth.

"Got some here too." He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours quickly before his warm tongue swiped across your bottom lip. He pulled back before you had the chance to further the kiss, you pouted up to him, upset he didn't let you kiss him back properly.

"Wanted a good kiss." You sighed, looking up at him with those big doe eyes he couldn't say no to.

"All my kisses are good." His hand came up to his chest, acting all offended. You rolled your eyes. He knew exactly what you meant but he leaned down and gave you a kiss on your forehead. You smiled as you felt his lips linger for a second. This was definitely better than the funnel cake but you'd never tell him that.

It was late by the time you and Harry started to make it back towards his car. You definitely shouldn't have worn the high heeled boots you had on but they went so well with the outfit that you thought it would be fine but after over 3 hours of walking around you hated them with a passion.

"My feet are killing me." You whined, shaking Harry's hand a bit as you threw your mini tantrum, but he just smiled at you stopping in front of you and crouched down a bit.

"Hop on." His back facing towards you and your eyes widened at what he wanted you to do.

"No way! You'll drop me." You tried to walk past him but he stopped you by grabbing your hand.

"Already carried you to bed, darling." His cheeky smile on his face shining bright as you grumbled your way back around and jumped on his back.

"Don't wanna hear you complaining in five minutes when you're tired." You laid your head on his shoulder as his hands went to support your legs. You held the ridiculous sized bear you'd won earlier in the night in your hand as he took off walking.

"Never complain about having ya on me." He said, causing you to laugh but swat at his chest.

"Shut up. People will hear you one of these times." You buried your head in the crook of his neck, hiding your embarrassment.

"Don't want anyone to know what dirty things you do to me in bed, love?" You could hear the gloating in his voice as you pushed away from him. Fuck this, he wasn't going to tease you and try to be sweet at the same time. You tried to get off him but he only gripped your legs tighter and laughed at your struggling.

"'M just messin'." You decided to let it go as you two finally made it back to the car and he let you down.

You sighed as you finally settled into the car. It had been a long night and you were so excited to get these torture devices off your feet. You had no idea how Harry managed to wear those boots all night long without feeling like he was walking on glass. You jumped slightly at the sound of his door slamming, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Yer coming to mine right?" He asked but still somehow looked anxious about it. One of these days you were hoping he'd be able to be completely comfortable around you.

"I don't put out on the first date." You shot back, causing his deep laugh that was slowly becoming your favorite sound in the world erupt from him.

"Hate to break it to y'love but y'put out before the first date." That big toothy grin on his face made you want to slap him.

"Watch it Styles or you'll definitely never sleep with me again." You huffed sitting back into your seat, arms crossing over your chest. He hummed in amusement as he started his car. Obviously not buying your fake threat.

It didn't take long before you were standing in the middle of Harry's ungodly sized penthouse. Really you shouldn't have been surprised but as you looked around you couldn't do anything else but gape with your mouth wide open.

"Better close yer mouth before I fuck it." Harry said as he came up behind you, wrapping his arms tightly around you. You snapped your mouth closed as his lips touched the sensitive spot on your neck that he was becoming overly familiar with over the last few weeks. A shiver went through you and you knew he could tell he was getting to you by the smile forming on his perfect mouth. Sometimes you really hated him.

"Gonna bite it off if you keep it up." You said irritated he had finally started teasing you back more. You had messed up by constantly being a smartass to him. Now you were paying for it.

"I bite back." He gave you a small nip on your neck. You let out a squeak, turning around and pushing him back, causing him to laugh. He took your hands you had on his chest and held them tightly pulling you back into his chest.

"'M sorry. Couldn't help myself." He said through laughter but you pulled away from him. Quickly walking down the hallway without him following you.

"I'm going to call Sarah to let her know that you're an ass." You shook your head as you made your way into what you assumed was his bedroom.

You plopped down on your stomach on his bed that felt like a cloud. Your head resting on your hand as you shot Sarah a text that said you weren't going to be home til tomorrow morning. Which resulted in you getting a text with a string of very suggestive emojis as a reply. You rolled your eyes as you closed your message app and set your alarm for the next morning. The last thing you wanted to do was have Thea worrying about you not being home when she woke up in the morning.

"Could get used to this." Harry said from the doorway to the room. His arms crossed as he leaned against the door frame. He looked so content and happy in this moment that it almost took your breath away.

"Which part?" You asked as, sat up on your knees at the end of the bed, tucking your hair behind your ear, nervous about what he might say. He had a way of making you so comfortable at times and so on edge at others.

His brows furrowed as he thought over your question. Your hands fiddled together in your lap as you nervously chewed on your bottom lip. He went from carefree to guarded so quickly you weren't sure what he was about to say, not sure if you wanted to hear it.

It wasn't a second later and he was walking across the beautiful hardwood floors so gracefully you didn't understand how he could be a real person. His fingers laced through your hair as he pulled your face closer to his. His eyes locked onto your briefly then slowly scanning your face like he was studying you before silk soft lips connecting with yours. You could feel your anxiety dissipate as you held onto his forearms to keep yourself balanced.

Your heart already beating like crazy as you leaned taller on your knees, putting all your emotions you couldn't say yet into the kiss but he pulled away before you could deepen the it yet again and you would have been bitching about it if the words that came out of his mouth didn't almost stop your heart.

"All of it." He whispered softly. Your grip on his arms tightened. Your mind taking you back to the last time you were in a bedroom with him, confessing your feelings. The moment felt so breakable just like the last time. You could hear both of your shallow breathing as he took his time to explain what he meant. His fingers lacing tighter in your hair, gripping like he'd never let you go.

"You. Thea. Being with you two." He sucked in a deep breath. His forehead still resting against yours but his eyes were closed. You could feel his nervousness radiating off him. His whole body seemed to tense up the more honest he was with his feelings. His brows pulled close together like he was debating over his next words so carefully.

"You guys make me happy." He sighed as your hands rubbed his forearms reassuringly. His body instantly relaxing from your soft touch. The quiet wrapped around both of you as took him all in. Your forehead still pressed up against his and you wished he could hear all the thoughts you had running through your mind, too nervous about getting hurt again to say any of it out loud.

His soft brown curls brushed against your forehead as he took in deep calming breaths. His eyes still closed as your hand came up to rest on his cheek. Your thumb grazing against the rough stubble that was growing there. You wanted him to not worry about opening up to you but your heart and brain were fighting a war. You wanted him but you wanted to protect yourself from getting hurt ever again.

The turmoil inside your own mind quieted when he opened his usually bright green eyes. You could see a million emotions floating in them. You could look into those endless beautiful eyes for the rest of your life and be content.

"You make us happy too." You let a soft sigh escape your lips when you pushed them back against his. You relaxed into him. Your mind finally stopping the madness of fighting off your emotions when his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to him.

Large hands pressed against your back, holding you so close you felt like you were seconds away from being absorbed completely by him. He everywhere around enveloped you. His tongue invading your mouth, his smell flooding your senses, hands rubbing and grabbing every part of you he could get a hold of.

Your arms wrapping around his neck, fingers running through his hair, holding onto the last bit of sanity you had.

"Need you." He breathed out, arms tightening around you. All you could do was nod, your ability to speak leaving you as your desire to be his took over.

He didn't need you words, his hands slowly running under your shirt and pulling it over you and off your body. Your lips only disconnecting for seconds before they were back together, there was no fighting for power this time. Your mind blanking as you ran on pure adrenaline and your growing need for him.

His knees came up on to the edge of the bed forcing you to move backwards. Trying your best to not fall over as his demanding hands were snapping your bra off you. You shrugged the beautiful red lace bra off your shoulders trying your best to throw it off the bed while still kissing him.

"Off." You demanded greedily pulling at the bottom of the shirts you loved see him in that were now in your way.

"Always so demanding." He smiled, taking off his cute sweater vest. His fingers unbuttoning each button on his shirt at an ungodly slow pace. Your eyes lingered on his hands as they took their time. His eyes never leaving the sight of you watching him so carefully. His chest rising from his slow deep breaths when his shirt finally hit the bed.

Your eyes moving over his tattoos on his stomach up to his chest and eventually back to his eyes. They were so blown with lust you almost couldn't see the green in them anymore. Gone was the softness in them, replaced with his need to have you.

You quickly made your way off the bed. Harry's brows furrowing from your sudden change in pace, turning to watch as you slipped your jeans down your legs. His eyes following them all the way down to the floor.

"Gonna sit there and look at me or you gonna lay down?" Your cocky smile across your face from his obvious staring.

He rolled his eyes but didn't say anything as he laid down, curious to see what you were going to do next. His back against the bed, resting on his elbows as he watched you crawl back onto the bed. Sitting yourself so perfectly over him. A leg on either side of his hips.

Your hands resting on his chest as you leaned down to kiss him. Your lips moving in perfect rhythm with each others like you'd been doing this for years not a few weeks. His hands on your back pulling your chest into his, the feel of his bare skin against your fueled the fire already burning in you.

You gave yourself time to enjoy kissing him the way you've been wanting to all night. Your tongue eagerly followed his every move, letting him lead the kiss the way he wanted to. Your legs tightening around his waist when he started shallow thrust of his hips, desperately trying to get any relief he could. You could feel his rock hard bulge against your now drenched underwear and a part of you was proud of yourself for holding out this long. Your mind running with all the things you wanted to do with him.

Your lips parted from his, making your way down his jaw, his neck, his chest, hitting every one of his sweet spots you'd found over the last few weeks along the way. His hands gripped tightly onto the yellow comforter the lower you went. Your hot breath fanning out, soft lips dragging over his skin every time you moved slightly to the next spot you wanted to leave a small kiss. Your thin fingers pulling down his zipper made him let out a breath, hands running through his hair. The corner of your mouth tugging up in a triumphant smile, the effect you had on him filling you with confidence.

You lifted your head up, looking him in his lust filled eyes as you took his pants and boxers down his legs, just enough to free his throbbing erection from it's tight confinement. A smirk on your lips as you caught sight of his chest heaving in deep breaths. Hands in his hair trying desperately to keep a grip on himself as your tongue ran along his hard member from his base all the way to his tip. Giving small kitten licks around his red pulsing tip. His erection twitching in your hand after every slight flick of your tongue. His eyes burning into yours when you finally took him fully into your mouth, slow, deliberate… teasing.

You only made it half way down him when he thrusted up into your mouth. You gagged around him causing a deep moan to come from him.

"Shit, sorry puppy." His hands wrapping in your hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail. His hands trying their best to not guide your movement, not that you would have minded if they did.

Your eyes didn't leave his as your hand took the part of him that wouldn't fit fully in your mouth. Harry's head laid back against the pillows, hands tightening to the point you started to get concerned when you hollowed your cheeks, your hand twisting slightly as you ran it up and down him, picking up your speed.

He was hot and heavy in your mouth. A distinct taste that was fully him filled you as you continued to push yourself to your limit. Deciding to remove your hand and try your best to take him all the way in now that you were a little more prepared for it.

His head instantly lifted off the pillow when you pulled your hand off him, giving the hand resting in your hair a slight push, trying to let him know you wanted him to take over. He must have gotten the hint cause a deep guttural groan vibrated through him.

His hand instantly shoved you fully down on him, hips bucking up into your mouth. You gagged only slightly greatly misjudging how much he was about to ruin your throat.

Your watering eyes never left him as he continued to move you how he wanted. His head thrown back as he fucked your throat relentlessly. Your beautiful red lace underwear drenched with your arousal, legs clenched tight together, hoping to get some sort of relief from the aching between your legs.

"Fuck." He pulled you off him so suddenly you were almost scared you had used too much teeth but as your chest heaved in deep breaths of much needed air you saw that same predatory look in his eyes that you saw the last time you were alone with him.

Your legs pressed together, a whimper coming from you. You needed him so badly you weren't even aware of him pulling you in for a kiss until his lips touched yours again. It was all tongues and clashing teeth. Gone was your perfect in sync movements, replaced with a fiery need for each other.

"Harry." You moaned out, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. The ever growing ache between your legs was unbearable. You needed him to do something about it. Your pleading eyes, meeting his again as he laid you down.

"I know baby." He said through the kisses he trailed down your neck. He didn't spend long teasing your weak spots before he settled in between your legs. His eyes wide as he took you all in, your underwear complete soaked through. In any other moment you might have been slightly embarrassed but you needed him so bad you didn't care. Your hands quickly going down and taking your own underwear off. Throwing them against a wall.

"Eager little thing." Harry mused as you put your legs back on the bed. One on either side of his face, bent slightly. Your whole body feeling like it was on fire from the desire burning through your veins. You didn't think seeing him get so lost in you would do this to you but now you needed him.

"Please." You begged, voice hoarse and ragged from the earlier abuse. You tried your best to hold onto the shred of decency you had left but your hips moved closer to his face almost against your will.

You could have cried when his fingers finally ran up your slit. A loud uncontainable moan ripped from your lungs, throat burning from the volume, head thrown back already choking for air.

"So pretty." Harry mumbled more to himself than you. You pulled yourself up to rest on your elbows, fingers desperately digging into the bedding. Your whole body tense from anticipation as he slightly pulled your lower lips apart, his hot breath hitting your sensitive bundle of nerves causing you to whimper in need.

"Gonna keep yer eyes on me puppy?" He asked, mouth so close to where you wanted him you're pretty sure he could have gotten you to agree to just about anything. Your head nodding so fast it made a small smirk come to his lips. He didn't seem to mind your lack of talking tonight, his warm tongue finally, finally, pushing out past his lips. Laying flat against your slit as he licked you in a way you'd never felt before.

You started to regret saying you'd keep your eyes on him as his tongue drew skilled patterns directly on your bundle of nerves. Your eyes momentarily shutting with your moan when he sucked lightly on your engorged clit. Your head getting lost in that fuzzy wonderful headspace but you were ripped out of it by the harsh slap on the inside of your leg. Making you yelp eyes narrowing down to Harry, wondering what you did.

"Eyes. On. Me." He said each word with such a finalized tone of voice you couldn't argue with him if you wanted to. You loved when he got into this mode. His usually sweet demeanor replaced with one with such authority it made your legs try to clench together, but Harry stopped them hands firmly pressed to the insides of both your legs.

"Be a good girl pup and I'll take good care of ya, yeh?" All you could do was nod in agreement. A soft laugh coming from him at your blatant craving from him. You wanted to tell him to go fuck himself if he was going to be like that but all desire to tell him off left your mind the second his mouth was back on you.

You didn't have to hold back on your moans this time. Which you were thankful for since his tongue was driving you crazy. Your arms shaking from how much you were struggling to stay propped up on them, fighting against every fiber of yourself that wanted to close your eyes in pleasure.

A sharp squeak ripped from you when he pushed both your legs to your chest, holding both of them in place with his large hands around the back of your thighs. Fingers digging so harshly into your silk skin you knew there was no way you wouldn't have bruises there tomorrow.

Your eyes widened as he moved to sit up on his knees, mouth still attached to your core. Everytime you ended up underneath him he never ceased to blow your mind with how well he could tell what you needed. His forearm rested across the back of both your thighs as his now free hand went to your drenched folds. His two fingers pushing into you.

He hummed against your clit as you were suddenly so close to your release. His marksman worthy digits hitting your sweet spot almost instantly. You were sure you wouldn't be able to keep your eyes open in a few moments. Your eyelids growing heavy with pleasure as he continued to thrust his fingers hitting exactly where you needed them every time.

A whine coming from you when he pulled away from you. So close to your much needed high that you saw it all crashing down around you.

"Harry." you panted out through shallow breaths. You couldn't believe he left you hanging like that, you needed him so bad you swore you were a second away from actually going crazy.

"Please, I'll be good." You whined out. So damn desperate you even surprised yourself. The smile that came across his face at your words was infuriating.

"Been so good pup but I need to be inside you before I explode on my bed like some teenager." You wanted to laugh but your current situation dripping onto his bed was stopping you from joking around. You needed him to shut up and fuck you.

"Ass up." He demanded letting your legs go so you scurry into the position he wanted you in. Your heart rate picked up the second his hand came to the back of your head and pushed up down into the pillows. His stomach laying across your back as he leaned down to your ear.

"Need ya like this, baby." He whispered into your ear, your body tensing up just at the sheer thought of what he was about to do. A shiver ran down your spine as his hands smoothed over the soft skin of your ass, taking his time. Soaking in the sight of you completely dripping and ready for him.

"Been wantin' ya like this since I saw ya prancing 'round in that fuckin' dress at Mitch's." A sharp slap on your ass made you jolt forward, moaning at the feeling of your tingling skin being soothed by warm hand.

Your core clenched around nothing as you felt him guide the tip of his erection against your bundle of nerves. You weren't sure how much more teasing you could put up with. You whined shifted backwards into him, needing him so badly it was all you could think about. Your mind blank on anything else but your desire for him.

He pushed into your warm slick channel, your walls instantly clamping down on him, pulling him in. Your face pushed deeper into the pillow at the feeling of finally getting what you need. Your moans hung in the air around you two as he slowly pulled out only to slam back into you.

"Fuck." You heard him from behind you a groan coming from deep in his chest as his hands smoothed over each of your ass cheeks slowly spreading you apart to get a better view of himself thrusting deep into you.

Another stinging slap on your ass followed by his hips snapping against yours again harshly had your face almost completely buried by the pillow. Hands wrapped tightly around it, holding on for life as you felt your mind grow fuzzy again. Your eyes closed soaking in the absolute pleasure of being so full of him. You couldn't hold back the moans pouring out of you even if you tried, the pillow muffling half of them.

"Need to hear you, pup." His arm wrapping around your shoulders bringing your back up to his chest. His lips at the crock of your neck while your hands cling to his forearm. Your nails digging into his flesh as he relentlessly pounded into you. You swore you were loosing feeling in your face and your voice was almost gone at this point. Your legs felt like they were going jello, about to collapse any second as your walls clenched around him again. You were so close you could feel the tears starting to well in your eyes.

"Close baby?" He whispered so softly it was a complete contradiction to what he was doing to you. His speed never slowly down. You felt like he was trying to fuck your soul out of your body.

All you could do was nod, head thrown back on his shoulder with a whine, hands still gripped onto his arm that was around you.

Your whole body tensing with the force of the orgasm building in you. You couldn't hold out any longer even if you tried. Your chest heaving in deep breaths you desperately needed. Feeling like you could actually pass out from pleasure when his fingers went to work circles around your clit.

"Harry!" You moaned out as your high hit you. Toes curling, nails dragging down his arm as you felt the strongest orgasm you'd ever had in your life. Your slick running down the both your legs only seemed to fuel his desire for you. His hips rolling against yours in short motions.

Your body slacked in his arms as your high dissipated. Your body would have fallen to the bed if it wasn't for his arm around your shoulders keeping you upright with him. Your face felt as numb as your mind when you slumped in his arms.

Harry moaned out your name as he finally stilled inside of you. The warmth of his release filling you.

He held you close for a few seconds breathing in deep calming breaths before laying you down on the bed, being sure to brush your hair out of your face before he pulled out of you. He rolled over on the bed directly beside, the bed bouncing slightly as he landed on it.

"Holy shit." He sighed out, his arm resting on his forehead, looking as fucked out as you felt. The throbbing between your legs replaced with a delicious soreness. Your whole body felt light still, your mind still buzzing from your release.

"Y'ruined my sheets." He laughed at you hiding your face in embarrassment, whining at the fact he had brought that up. You could feel your face burning, ears turning red. You'd never done that before and as good as it felt you weren't used to it.

"Shut up." You groaned, face nuzzling deeper into the pillow. Your arms clinging onto it when he pulled your body into his. Cuddling up to your back. Both your chest rising and falling in sync together as his hand ran up and down your side, shiver going down your spine at the feeling.

You both were too exhausted to do anything other than lay there. Taking in the feeling of being wrapped up together. You felt your eyes start to drift shut, growing heavy from your exhaustion.

"Y'should be mine." He heard is soft voice speak from behind you, his nose nuzzled in your hair. Your brain still foggy with exhaustion, body still limp.

"Hmm?" You asked, not moving from your spot, too tired to do much of anything.

"Y'should be mine." He said again his lips pressing lightly to your shoulder. Lingering there as a smile broke across your face.

"Already am." You sighed using the rest of your strength to turn around to look at him. His eyes burning into yours as you smiled at him. Your hand resting on his chest, thumb tracing lightly over the tattoos there.

You honestly thought you were so transparent to him. Your heart was already his, he just had to say it. Admit that he wanted this too. You were already there, ready to give up fighting your feelings for him.

"Then 'm yours."

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles x Reader #Harry Styles x Y/N #Harry Styles x You #Harry Styles Fanfic #Harry Styles Fanfiction #Fanfic #fanfiction #writing #mine #LYHD

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ksuew · 5 years ago

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The Rookie 2x11 Day of Death

Here is a crazy, sleep-deprived stream of conscious recap of the episode with a few predictions.

Opening scene, Lucy regains consciousness on a table, Caleb is giving her a DOD tatoo. I was so hoping this wouldn’t happen, but it does give the opportunity for a good healing story line and an awesome cover tatoo.

Next, Jackson goes to bring Lucy coffee and she isn’t home.

Lopez and Wesley are talking after she’s found him nearly dead because he’s mixed booze and pills.

There is a news brief from Rosalind

“5 years ago Detective nick armstrong looked into my eyes and Fulfilled his darkest fantasy and arrested me for Playing at slaughter” weird wording. I think Armstrong must have slept with Rosalind...

Nolan and Jackson are discussing the missing Lucy. Thankfully, Harper immediately sounds the alarm. When asked if Lucy just went home with the guy, Nolan says, “Lucy doesn’t do one night stands”. I could tell what Jackson said.

Next we see Lucy taped to a chair.

She’s trying to get into Caleb’s head, but it isn’t really getting her free yet.

Harper and Nolan visit his last victim but get no usable info other than timeline. It would be nice if she and Lucy meet up at some point. They could be a good support for one another.

They talk to Grace about How long it would take to suffocate in a barrel.

Surveillance footage

As soon as they say she’s been taken they cut to Tim. He immediately calls Lopez. She’s on her way. Love that friendship.

Harper knows Lucy is a fighter

Lucy proves that when she gets free, hits Caleb and runs for it. Wish She had beaten him until she saw brain matter, but I get the instinct to run.

I really hated watching Caleb kick her. That was hard to watch.

Armstrong’s pissed, I get it. I think it was right to send Nolan to talk to Rosalind (and he is the star of the show, so he has to play a big part).

Poor Tim, he talks with Lopez. He blames himself for pushing Lucy to go out . He was nearly in tears. “She hesitated and I pushed her right at him.”

Nolan visits Rosalind. I still don’t trust the prison guy, Hernandez, i think he’s in on things. May come up in later episodes. Nolan doesn’t get much, but tries the contraband angle.

Love that Wesley gets to help by finding the contraband smuggler.

Now it’s Lucy being marched to the burial site. He makes her climb into the barrel, has it wired to record. The ring!! Lucy you beautiful genius! She throws her ring onto the ground as she climbs into the barrel. I loved her parting quote, “you’re gonna be dead long before i am”. Gotta say, I’d have ripped those camera wires apart out of spite. No way I would have let him have the satisfaction of watching me die.

The next scene was one of my favorites. Tim and Jackson pull over the smuggler. Tim goes all the fuck out from second one. Jackson looks kinda scared. One of my favorite linesof the whole episode: “I am responsible for a life that is in jeopardy and I will do whatever I have to to save her, do you understand?” The guy doesn’t want to give the info, Tim’s reply, “Because if you don’t I will pull you inside out”. Swoon

Tim takes down the guy he thinks is Caleb and demands “Where’s Lucy?” But it’s not Caleb. Poor guy’s disabled and gets tackled because Caleb stole his identity. So back to Nolan and Rosalind. He really doesn’t get anywhere, honestly, other than finding out she’s after Armstrong

Armstrong is a dummy and lets Caleb take him. Caleb was never gonna help or let her go. Sweet that he would sacrifice his life for hers. Lots of guilt there.

Lopez and sergeant grey find the photo of Lucy and presumably her phone. BUT WE DON’T GET TO SEE HER TIM LOCK SCREEN which had me seriously pouting.

Lucy’s in the barrel. This is so hard to watch. Cut to Tim looking devastated because he thinks they’re out of options but It’s Jackson and Tim who realize credit card statements could lead to Caleb. Then Wesley for the win, figuring out that Caleb will probably take Lucy to a place connected to Rosalind.

So Caleb and Armstrong get to the farmhouse. Caleb is jealous of Armstrong, “there’s so much you don’t know about her. I know everything “. He also told Lucy earlier that he didn’t understand Rosalind’s obsession with Armstrong. Again, I’m Pretty sure they had an affair before he realized she was the killer.

Okay, finally Tim and Lopez use the data Wesley has gathered and find the address.

Now the scene of Lucy singing dream a little dream of me. All we hear is her as everyone rushes to find her. We see Nolan and Harper get re-routed toward the farmhouse and Tim, Jackson, Lopez, and Sergeant Grey getting in a helicopter, but all we hear is her singing until her voice trails off and she presumably passes out from lack of oxygen. I can no longer sit at this point.

Nolan and Harper get there first and Harper shoots Caleb. They try to keep him alive even calling Grace to help, but he was never going to tell them anything anyway. He dies.

Loads of people finally start to show up. Nolan shows Lopez the live stream of Lucy in the barrel. Tim doesn’t really look. Honestly he looks so upset and worried that he might throw up. They decide to just start searching and hope for the best.

Tim pulls it together and starts to search with Jackson, but tells Jackson to go left so they can cover more ground.

Everybody is searching. At this point I’m nearly screaming at the TV, “Come on Tim!!”. (And I’m pacing and getting really close to the tv) My dog gets so spooked she starts barking 😂. I NEED for Tim to be the one to find her. The scene keeps cutting to all the people looking for her...

And then, it all comes together..

He sees the ring catching the sun. Lucy has saved herself that badass queen. He starts digging with his bare hands and calling for help “I’ve got her!”. I am literally dying. PS. Lucy doesn’t wear that ring to work, so he’s noticed it from other occasions. I would so love if that ring comes into play in the future...

So, he’s digging, everyone joins in with hands and shovels.

Tim is the one to open the barrel.

Tim is the first one to touch her and asks for help getting her out (I think this is the first time we’ve ever seen him touch her)

Tim is the one to check if she’s breathing

Tim is the one to give her mouth to mouth and start compressions

Thankfully they don’t leave us in suspense for too long before she starts to breathe again. As soon as she realizes she is out of the barrel and alive, she starts to sob

Tim is the one to gather her in his arms and rock her and tell her it’s okay.

God, I was a mess! They could have let that scene go on for just a touch longer, but I won’t complain. It was so touching. I love how everyone deferred to Tim. No one tried to take over or move in. They all knew it needed to be him.

Cut to the hospital. Lucy is waking up and Tim is by her side reading a ridiculous teen magazine. Tim looks a little embarrassed/unsure (will she want me here? Is she mad at me?). Lucy starts with some playful banter and Tim makes her laugh right away. He looks a little unsure again. Lucy asks him if he’s been there all night. Embarrassed puppy denies it 3 times, which of course tells us he has, but doesn’t want her to know. Her little “um hm” tells me she knows he’s lying.

Grace comes in, says Lucy will be in the hospital for one more day. Mentions that Rachel just came by and will be back later 🙄🙄. Sorry, but can we be done with Rachel now?

Lucy looks to Tim and asks, “How did you find me?”. Just when I think he’ll get to mention the ring, Nolan comes in to claim credit and says it was his policing skills. (I’ll give it to you, Nathan, this show wouldn’t exist without you, so we gotta stroke your ego a bit 😂)

He gives her a big teddy bear, then Jackson comes in with flowers. It’s very cute and sweet. Lucy says the bear will stay in her bed because she’s never going on another date again. Grace tries to object but all 3 guys are fine with that scenario. As am I. The only dates she needs to go on are with Tim after she’s no longer a rookie for at least 6 months. Then he can evict the pink bear.

Tim totally sets up his own gift to her by asking Lucy if she’s hungry. She says yes, and as she’s about to say what she’d really like to eat, he’s pulling out a bag with her favorite veggie burger, extra pickles and French fries (as a romantic song plays in the background. I can’t find it yet, but the lyrics were “I’ll come and find you, come rain, come shine) Who won the gift name now, suckers? Better than a bear or flowers any day 😉.

She says, “you know me so well”, he smirks, goes full heart eyes, and says, “Too well”.

And that’s some endgame set-up awesomeness right there!

I would have been fine if the episode had ended there, but there was a bit more.

Wesley has gotten some perspective because of Lucy’s ordeal and is ready to go back to work. I think there are more setbacks to come for him, but it is a good first step.

Cut to Armstrong and Sergeant Grey. He invites Armstrong to his house to watch a game. He hopes Armstrong can cast out his demons and move on... foreshadowing!

Nolan goes back to speak with Rosalind to tell her she (and Caleb) failed and now all she has is her cell. She tries to barter a secret about Armstrong. I’m sure that will come back to haunt us. Like I said before, I’m pretty sure Armstrong slept with her at some point, but there is something else. Season finale kinda something else.

Overall, this was such an excellent episode of television. It literally had me out of my seat on several occasions. I feel like Tim knows he’s got serious feelings for Lucy but will try his hardest to suppress them because she is his rookie, and a fellow cop, and he feels like her abduction was his fault. I think that will become a bigger and bigger issue as the rest of this season progresses.

I think (and hope) that Lucy working with Harper will be a one-episode thing, but they will probably pull pretty far back on The Lucy and Tim relationship for a few episodes. The scenario was very similar to A Bones episode from season 2. Brennan was buried alive, Booth moved heaven and earth to find her, she did something brilliant that caught his eye when it seemed like finding her would be impossible. He dug her out and held her, but it was still a good 4 more seasons or more before they got together. I hope we won’t have to wait THAT long, but I don’t think they’ll be together by the end of this season. I do think that this episode is signaling that the show runners are definitely going to put Tim and Lucy together eventually, which makes me very happy.

For now, I just hope they’re back as partners in the same shop soon. I need to see them together because they’re the best part of the whole show. I want them to allow Lucy to process her trauma. I want a conversation between Lucy and Tim about it not being his fault. I would hope Tim would end things with Rachel. I want the ring to come back into play at some point. First because i want Lucy to know that what she did was a big part of what saved her, and I want a pining Tim to hang onto it like a talisman.

#lucy chen #the rookie #tim bradford #tim x lucy #the rookie abc #chenford #lucy and tim #the rookie spoilers #day of death

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purplesurveys · 5 years ago

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610

What is a question you get asked too much? On these surveys, it’s definitely the color of my nails. :) :) :) Haha but in real life, it’s “How your sem?” which can get tiring as a conversation starter but which I appreciate nonetheless because it’s a way for us to look out for one another. Worst grade you've ever gotten? In high school, I managed to get the lowest possible grade my school gives, which is a 68 but that was on an examination; the lowest grade I got in my card was a 78. In college, my lowest mark was a 2.50 from a fucking econ class, which is probably equivalent to a C in the other side of the world. Do you like colorful sharpies? No, I don’t really use them a lot. Do you do chores? We’re all expected to wash our own dishes in the house but other than that my mom prefers doing all the tasks. Who is someone you haven't seen in a while? Angela, definitely. I don’t think I’ve seen her since her birthday in September.

Do you think double-jointed people can type better than most people? I don’t know any double-jointed people and I know even less about their typing speeds lol. Do you have nice neighbors? They don’t make fusses and there’s like zero drama in the neighborhood all year so I guess that makes them nice. Some kids are fucking annoying though and like to play INSIDE OUR GARAGE and ON OUR PATIO. I literally just demanded my parents this weekend to have a big ass gate made (with spikes, preferably hahahaha jk) so these kids can’t find their way to our house anymore. How many pets do you have? I claim ownership for one pet, which is my own dog, but we also have a cat in the house. It belongs to my sister and I’m not close with it. What is your favorite website? Wikipedia. If you find the right topic, it’ll pull you in like a black hole and you’ll be reading up articles for HOURS. It’s been happening to me since 2008 lmao. Last present you bought for someone? The last ever gift I bought before tapping out was a pair of cute Marikina sandals for Gab’s sister. But that day I also bought Instax film for my sister, a garlic press for Gab’s dad, and massage oils for Gab’s mom. Who did you hang out with last night? I was alone last night and was in my room reading about serial killers by 7:30 PM hahahaha. What is the reason behind the last time you laughed? I was watching Try Guys videos before falling asleep last night and they’re funny guys, so. Are you more clumsy or graceful? Clumsy... I don’t think I’ve ever been described as graceful. More shy or outgoing? Shy. But outgoing if with the right people. What is your favorite fruit? Avocado, I guess. Who are your 3 closest friends? Gabie and Angela are my two best friends but then all my friends after them are kinda equal in terms of how close I am with them... I guess my second-closest friend would be Laurice. Are you in a good mood? A little bit, because we’re seeing the fun side of family today. But I’ll generally be sad by default in the next few days just because it’s Christmas season, and I don’t like the holidays. Do you like Mexican food? Sure, I crave them occasionally. What’s your favorite month? April, because birth month. Do you like myspace? I didn’t enjoy it in the brief time I had it just because it was such a foreign thing, both figuratively and literally – I was *very* new to the internet so I didn’t quite understand the early social media culture just yet, and Myspace also was never a thing here because everyone was using Friendster and/or Multiply in Asia. What did you last eat? McDonald’s fried chicken. What is your favorite hobby? Right now, it’s gem/diamond painting. Gab got me a set for Christmas (she allowed me to open it early so I can deal with the depression early haha) and it’s super therapeutic and, I now realize, more fun than coloring. What is something you have always wanted to do? Go outside of Asia. What time is it? Exactly 8:45 AM. What are you listening to? I can hear my mom’s very loud and powerful fan upstairs, but I also hear her shuffling in the kitchen as she’s making breakfast. Are you better at math or spelling? Spelling. What color are your eyes? They are dark brown. Is the sun shining? Yes. Do you like the smell of cinnamon? Now that it’s breakfast time I would certainly enjoy smelling it. Do you ever go camping? I’ve never done it before.

Last thing that creeped you out? I was watching a Try Guys video where they tried to drive while sleep-deprived, and the first half of the video was them vlogging their experience staying up the entire night – by 4 AM they were a bit delirious and they plugged in this weird montage of distorted hallucinations with sounds of children laughing, and I really didn’t enjoy that lol. Have you ever climbed through a window? I don’t think I have, no. We were locked out of the house once but we made my sister climb one of the windows because she was absolutely stick-thin as a kid. Do you like rock or rap better? Rock. Are you in a relationship? Yes. Do you like the band Hollywood Undead? I was never a fan. What was your favorite music video of 2008? I was only watching Beyoncé videos at that point hahahaaaaa. My favorite video of hers from 2008 was Diva. Are you wearing socks? Nope. Last candy you ate? I had a Crunch bar the other day. What is something that grosses you out? Accidentally touching food that already landed in the sink and is soaking wet. Do you take more than 10 surveys a day? Nah, not anymore. That was me when I started though. Do you prefer summer or winter? Winter, even though I’ve never experienced it yet and just because I mostly dislike summer. Do you watch football? No. I never got the hype but I am willing to watch Gab’s sisters’, who both play football, games. When do you usually go to bed? It’s always different. I can go to bed by 8:30 or at 4 AM, or in between. When did you last login to myspace? 2009, maybe. Who is the last person you called? My mom. What do you like about Tuesdays? That’s my car’s coding day, so that means I get to use one of the family cars which is slightly larger but looks a hella lot more luxurious lol. Do you like Taco Bell? Love Taco Bell. Sucks that it’s only in malls I never ever go to.

#survey #surveys

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steampoweredgiraffefacts · 6 years ago

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So, it’s August 2016

(under a read more because this ended up being sorta long)

Steam Powered Giraffe are performing their first, full show in England and I had tickets. I'd waited years for this.

The show took me to a place I'd never been before, both physically and spiritually. First time in Lincoln, an unfamiliar city but I was spurred continuously through the stranger streets by the vibrant possibilities the evening held.

We checked into our Motel, Damon's Motel, not important. And we taxi's our way to the student union performance space: The Engine Shed. A more appropriate venue? I think not. There was already a queue outside, cosplay, fanbots and herbal steampunkedness was abundant. But I had to perform ablutions, so we rambled over a nearby bridge the Pub on the other side, I don't remember the name, but again, it doesn't matter.

I revelled in the happily confused glances I received for my attire and appreciated the sight of a group of fanbots say outside eating fish and chips. Whoever you were, good bloody job!

On our way back over the bridge my eye was understandably drawn to a quick flash of orange and mandarin a few feet away and I indecisive recognised the mess of dreadlocks as Steve Negrete. SPG's famed and beloved sound engineer. I called out to him ;

"Steve!" My tone was unexpectedly familiar. As though I was attempting to garner the attention of a friend I hadn't seen for a while, but was still very fond him. Anyway, I was actually surprised when he turned around to acknowledge my cry he shot me a beaming smile and offered a wave, which I returned. Then off he went, probably to plug in some speakers or some activity of that variety. So, we take our place is ever growing line outside of the venue and wait. I had lovely chats with some folks in costume (maybe it was one of you?), a robot up towards the front had brought along a ukulele and played ‘Honeybee’, ‘Brass Goggles’ and others. Had I known any better, maybe I didn’t, I would have thought that the latter had been meticulously rehearsed, due to how well-balanced the pre-show turned out to be. So, we get inside. We check our bags and coats and quickly secure our place at the almost-front of the stage. The show begins and we suffer through an awful histoire-garage band called ‘Before Victoria’ who, unfortunately, originated in Leicester. Good cheese, though. And to our collective surpise, Prof. Elemental shows up. What ho!

Then.

The lights lower, the colour arrangement becomes more intense and vibrant. The air all throughout the room became pregnant with the subtle buzzing of anticipation and steam. A mere glance around the room revealed faces all turned in one direction; the stage. Eyes alight with excitement and expectation. I could feel my fingertips vibrating, and if I hadn’t been mentally and physically preparing myself for this months during the last three months I may have swayed dramatically into the people in front of me.

The hour was a blur. It was a sharp, fast, blur that radiated energy that was new and fresh and... Steamy.

Anyway, as you can probably predict the show came to an end with the grand swell that is ‘Brass Goggles’. Off we went to collect our belongings and take some deep breaths of fresh air. But wait- there was a table set up and a new queue was forming along the metal barriers.

“Holy fucking shit.” I breathed. “Motherfucking Meet and greet.”

I whipped my head around to where my boyfriend was stood. Who, in a happy happenstance, happened to be stood in front of the merch crew.

“I need a photo. An album, anything that can be touched and signed.” We both ran in different directions and I waited to... meet... them. My boyfriend sidled up behind me and he gave me a hug. I’m almost sure he could feel my nerves through my dress.

I approched Sam first.

“Could you sign this, please?” I asked.

“Absolutely!” He replied. And I did wierd laugh. My meeting-Hatchworth laugh. I apologised and tole him I was just very nervous. “Don’t worry,” He said. “So are we.” And we both laughed.

David was next, sat in the middle. He was still wearing his hat, but had taken off his gloves and rolled up his sleeves. I offered him my photo to sign and he offered me a smile.

“Would I be able to shake your hand?” I squeaked. He responded by holding out his hand.

“Sure thing.” And so I shook his hand. I shook his hand. I say that to myself a lot.

“You guys are great, I love your... everything.”

“Thank you!” And we both laughed.

And Bunny was last. My nerves are already fried and sleep deprivation is getting to me and I feel bit wobbly all over.

“Hi! Thanks for coming!” She’s gleaming. An Angel. She takes off one of her gloves and offers me her hand and I take it instantly. It’s unbelievably soft. Like when you touch a hamsters fur and it’s so fine you almost don’t feel it. And warm, which I suppose makes sense since part of her career is to wear gloves a lot, but it was a cold warm, y’know when you sit by the fire after just being outside in the snow.

I felt electrified. These were people I never thought I’d get to see play live, let alone meet face-to-face and shake hands with, laugh with. I was giddy and out of breath, but it was good. It was amazing and I wanted to thank them a thousand times over, but there were more people behind me who wanted to do the same thing, and it was their turn now.

“Thank you for coming!” Lame.

#it was supposed to be about shaking bunny's hand #but good god this got away from me #it's like i'm trying to fill the word count for new dramcom #spg #steam powered giraffe #don't feel obligated to read this

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boosamayla-blog · 6 years ago

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Fifty Facts About Me.

I was challenged by a dear friend to list the 50 facts about me that would entice my reader (singular, coz i only have one reader and bet she was the who challenged me. HARHAR! ) . Anyway, whoever read this stuff and wanted to know me more. Pm is the key. And oh! By the way. Im not selling myself. The objective of this is pure genuine at the same time spreading awareness of being so true in social media. I may not disclosing everything here due to the limitation of 50 but what you have read is pure facts about me. So lets categorize to what I believed in down to what I like and so on. Because you are reading this, you have no choice but to read all. You dont want to feel lacking right? Hahaha. Kidding! So lets start!

1. I am a dreamer and a believer.

2. I believe I can make my life beautiful.

3. I believe in Law of attraction, that the universe will conspire because I believe. Thus, I always believed in devine timing.

4. I believe that I am not perfect and need of constant grow.

5. I believe that God has an exciting vision for my life.

6. I believe in growing in wisdom each day. The reason why I really love to talk to people who are already living my dreams.

7. I believe in daily prayer.

8. I believe in LOVE. Love is the most powerful force and the universal language that everyone can understand. And the true purpose of wealth is love.

9. I believe that to prosper my life is to serve people with purpose because for me relationship defined success.

10. I believe that God created me in his Image.

11. I am a sinner. I wont deny that. Haha

12. I am an insensitive person. Unless you let me aware what you want and your emotions.

13. I am subclinically narcisistic. Hahaha. Okay. I love myself more than anything else. Ill save myself first. Its not selfish its self love.

14. I am not physically gifted but I always believed that I am beautiful.

15. Im not a rice eater, Filipinos are rice eater but not this princess. 😌

16. I am so friendly, clingy and touchy, if you are always with me and you're a guy? Probably you interpret the whole action thing into something romance. Aw. Hahaha

17. I am always with the boys because boys are less drama. But that doesn't mean we do not talk, we just dont talk crappy things like girls do.

18. I am a slow eater. Give me plenty of time to eat if youre with me. 😂

19. I love to take risk especially if I am certain to the consequences. So that means I am so careful with my actions. 😜

20. But this risk taker is afraid of unknown. Weird right? Anyway, sometimes we are driven by fear. Fear exist because we are human.

21. I am a life coach and a mental health advocate. One of the reasons of keeping myself on grounds.

22. I am very explorative. I explore things even if it is under the sun. Aw. Hahaha

23. I love nature. I am inclined to nature. I love misty greens.

24. And oh, i love to be on top always. Im talking about mountains. But I like what you are thinking. Hahahaha.

25. I am against of same sex marriage. But I am not against of same sex couple. No prejudice action to that. To whatever opinions/ facts you are feeding me just to say Yes. My answer is still the same. I have my reasons for that. 😛

26. I dont know how to express my anger. All i know is silent. So if I am silent because of your action then thats it.

27. My fave sport is soccer. Im a soccer player when I was in college. By the way, Im the star player. 😉

28. I am Psychology graduate, now currently taking my masters. And its worth the penny. A good investment.

29. My deepest desire is to write a book. Crossfinger to that. Maybe about mental health. 🤞

30. I am the only one who graduated in college among my five sibs. So fucking proud of it.

31. I am not single but not yet married. Hoping to be single

Aw hahaha. I will regret this statement for sure. But thats actually my want right now. This might be a temporary thoughts of mine.

32. I never had a chance to experience on being alone after I graduated high school. I met my boyfriend like after my graduation. So, we're dugay na. I love him but i wanted to try and feel whats being in a single mode.

33. My comfort foods are pizza and fries but I deprived myself on eating fastfood nowadays. Sadly, they are part of it. 😭

35. I love cardio. I love running, walking and hiking.

36. Mountains are my frenemy. 😂😂.

37. I love surplus clothes. They call it ukay2x. The good thing about is your clothes are rare to find. Hahah so you dont have the same style. 😂 Just make sure you wash it properly.

38. I rarely buy stuff from shopping malls. But i love to do window shopping. The feeling of touching stuff you like is very satisfying. My therapy by the way. Haha.

39. I am attracted to a guys who is very intellectual and have a sense and not awkward to talk to.

40. Physically, I am attracted to tall and neat guys.

41. I love watches. I dont know why. So if you want to give something special to me. Then watch is reccommended. Hahhahaha. Watch! Watch!

42. I am a learned woman. Before I am confused and bullshit.

43. Petpeeve: seeing rice morsel anywhere in your mouth area. Oh my God! Im gonna die. Like i feel uneasy and irritated. Why would a guy/ gal eat that way? Writing this down feels like my nerves are burning. 🤮😖😤😢😵😱😠 these emoji will explain my emotions right now.

44. Im starting my side hustle right now. Business business! I sell water and perfume. So buy na. 😜😜

44. I watch FRIENDS series for like 12 times. Im so fucking obsess with it. The vibes brought by the team is inexplicable.

45. Second to my fave is Game of thrones. Still Robb Stark is my favorite. Although he died early in the show. Poor Robb Stark.

46. My favorite past time aside hustling my phone is reading books. Ill make sure all my books will be read. Hahaha. Im halfway of my books.

47. And oh. I dont like long hair. I like maintaining my short hair.

48. Driven: a project to be realize with my friend. Another cross finger. 🤞🙏🙏

49. I am once in love and broken. 😭😭😭😭 Hugs!

50. I am now living with the four agreement of life: I always make sure that I am impeccable with my words, i dont take anything personally, I dont make assumptions and I always do my best.

So thats it. Thats me. Some arent mention due to privacy purposes. Its okay to disclose things in social media just make sure that in every stuff youve shared is being process and you are certain. Thank you. Hope ya like it. Id love to read yours too!

-Emilyworlds-stuff/ May2019

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magic-and-moonlit-wings · 6 years ago

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Chapter 20: Saving Face

Becoming the Mask

Text that is both bolded and italicized indicates trollish.

"How're you holding up, Jim?" Toby opened up his half-made sandwich to put the vegetables on it.

Lunches by Chef Jimbo that required a final, in-cafeteria step to assemble weren't that odd, but usually they were more complicated than cold cuts and veggie slices. This was Jim's 'day off' lunch, for days when something was stressing him out to the point where he didn't even feel like cooking, or didn't have the time.

"Not great," Jim admitted. "… Did you talk to Draal this morning?"

"I've met that guy, like, twice. Plus, don't trolls sleep during the day?"

"We had a fight."

Toby gasped. "But – you don't look smushed."

"More of a 'hurt feelings' fight." Jim's hands tightened on his sandwich. He put it down without taking a bite. "He said I was unworthy of the Amulet. Then I said it still picked me, so I was obviously more worthy than him. And, considering his dad was the Trollhunter before me and Draal really wanted the job …"

"Ouch. Like in The Book Of Life, when Manolo told Joaquin he'd never be as great a hero as his father. What the heck set all that off?"

Jim grimaced and shook his head. Toby could respect that.

"Got a plan for apologizing?"

Jim hated having anyone mad at him. The very few times he and Toby fought, Jim was usually first to try and make amends.

"Wait for tonight, so he's had some time to cool down, then say sorry and see if he's ready to hear that. If he's not … I dunno. Go into the Void and ask his dad's ghost for advice, maybe."

"If you need to avoid him for a bit, you can crash with me and Chompsky."

Jim half-smiled and started eating, which meant he wasn't tensed up with nerves anymore. Toby patted himself on the back.

Barbara parked, neatened her hair in the rear view mirror, and sighed over her steering wheel. She wanted to go home, wolf down some food, take a hot, soothing shower, and collapse into bed. Instead, she'd agreed to meet her son's teacher for lunch.

"For Jim," she reminded her reflection. Her child needed his remaining parent to be involved in his life.

There were a few tables set up outside the café. Seated at one of them was a man in a brown jacket and blue turtleneck. She didn't notice him until he stood when she walked past.

"Dr Lake?" Barbara jumped a bit.

"Yes–? Oh." She recognized his accent from the phone. He probably guessed by her teal scrubs. "You must be Mr Strickler." She put on a smile and held out her hand to shake. He kissed it instead, making her blush.

"Indeed. Lovely to meet you at last." He pulled out the chair opposite him and she sat. It was so nice to be off her feet.

A waiter appeared, or perhaps Mr Strickler had signalled them now that she'd arrived, and asked if they wanted drinks to start. Barbara ordered a coffee. Mr Strickler asked for something she assumed was a blend of tea.

"I'll start by repeating that Jim's not in trouble." He folded his hands on the table. "I've noticed he occasionally has trouble staying awake, or that his focus seems to drift, snapping back to attention when called upon but wandering again soon after."

"That sounds like he's tired. He's always up early … I'll talk to him about when he's going to bed." Barbara had heard, and seen evidence at the hospital, that a lot of teenagers were sleep-deprived. With the way Jim tried to take care of her …

"He also has a habit of, shall we say, overstretching himself," said Mr Strickler, following the same train of thought as Barbara. "Taking on more than his share of responsibilities."

The waiter returned with their drinks. Barbara hadn't even looked at the menu's lunch options. She took a gulp of coffee and ordered the first thing she spotted with 'sandwich' in the description; a 'croque monsieur'. Mr Strickler ordered the same thing.

Maybe it was the hunger or the exhaustion talking but it actually sounded more appetizing when he said it.

"With all respect," continued Mr Strickler, once the waiter left, "Jim's behaviour is not uncommon among children whose parents have demanding careers; they seek to ease the pressure on their parents by being helpful –"

Barbara nodded; that certainly sounded like Jim.

"– Or they see the sheer number responsibilities their parents hold, and conclude this is a normal level of activity for anyone. Or, in some cases, are encouraged to be perfect because their reputation reflects back on their family, but I don't believe that's the case with Jim."

Barbara fidgeted with a napkin. "I've never meant to put him under pressure … But I have, ah, encouraged some of his habits."

Like the cooking, or cleaning the house, or doing yard work, or helping her budget the utilities …

She'd viewed it as practical, teaching Jim things like how to operate a washing machine or handle money so he'd know how to do it when he was living on his own, but, was she interfering with his academic education, letting him take on – praising him for taking on – so many responsibilities at home?

Mr Strickler touched her hand, lightly, briefly, bringing her back to the present.

"Jim is a kind boy," he said. "He wants to help people. But it's impossible to help everyone, and Jim," the teacher steepled his fingers and contemplated his words, "Jim is young enough to not necessarily recognize his limits."

Over lunch – croque monsieur turned out to be a ham and cheese sandwich fried in white sauce – they discussed ways to encourage Jim to cut back without making it sound like his helpfulness was being rejected or like he was being criticized for not being able to do enough.

They didn't come to any solid conclusions. Barbara could encourage Jim to sleep or ease up on his chores; both adults could remind Jim of the importance of taking care of himself; but Barbara didn't want to ground him from extracurriculars or socialization to force him to rest. It hadn't gotten to that point, and hopefully it never would.

"I should be getting back to the school," said Mr Strickler, checking his watch. He uncapped the pen he'd toyed with off and on during their conversation and scribbled onto a sticky note from one of his jacket's inside pockets. "My phone, Dr Lake."

"Please, call me Barbara."

She took the phone number and he kissed her hand again.

"Barbara." Her name sounded lovely with his accent. "Walter. Do call if there's anything you'd like to discuss."

He summoned the waiter and paid their cheque and then he was gone, and Barbara was left feeling unsure if she'd just had an unorthodox parent-teacher conference or an even more unorthodox first date.

She went home and had the relaxing shower and nap she'd been craving.

Draal was conflicted. He was unaccustomed to that feeling. He did not care for it.

He wanted to believe he had done the right thing, not killing the Changeling immediately upon discovery.

He wanted to believe the Amulet of Merlin knew what it was doing when it chose … one of them … to be the Trollhunter.

He wanted to believe Jim's oath to turn against Gunmar was genuine, and not yet another act.

There was a pipe in the centre of the basement, and if Draal stood by it, he could hear nearly everything from the main story of the house. He'd heard Jim quietly threatening Nomura over Barbara's safety last night.

He should've been listening at the pipe when Nomura first came to the house; he might've learned more about what the Changelings were up to –

Draal's failings aside; the exchange he had eavesdropped on suggested Jim had been truthful about Barbara still being human instead of another Changeling collaborator, and that he felt a certain level of protectiveness for her, matching his explanation of why he'd let Draal move in.

As Blinky and AAARRRGGHH had each independently pointed out, Jim could have simply, easily, killed Draal that night, instead of agreeing to expose himself as a Changeling.

Or Jim could have stayed out of the fight, rather than exposing himself as the Trollhunter to protect Nomura.

If the helmet materialized with a faceplate, Draal still wouldn't know what Jim really was.

They hadn't spoken on the return journey from Trollmarket. Jim hadn't come downstairs before leaving the house that morning, either. Draal had gone upstairs midmorning to scavenge some food. A pile of cans waited for him in the blue box in the kitchen.

He brought them back to his living space and sat behind the furnace, on the blanket Jim had given him when he moved in, now somewhat ragged after a few encounters with Draal's spikes. He slowly snacked his way through cans and coal, and stared at the little Heartstone piece.

Why had Jim given him that? It wasn't like Draal had been expecting one. The Changeling could've kept it for himself. Jim had, by his own confession, been working for Gunmar up until last night, and that was assuming he really had changed sides.

That was what made Changelings dangerous, Draal supposed. They thought differently than normal trolls. You never knew what they were thinking. And even when you knew that, you still found yourself wanting to trust them.

Draal really hoped he had done the right thing.

Barbara woke up when Jim got home from school.

"Hey, Mom." He hugged her hello. Jim had never outgrown how affectionate he'd been as a small boy. Barbara hoped he never decided he was 'too old' to hug his mother. "How was your day?"

"I had lunch with your history teacher."

Jim's shoulders tensed, just slightly, under her hands – typical teenaged surprise and alarm over unforewarned parent-teacher interaction? Or, wait, with how Barbara phrased it, did Jim think she meant she'd gone on a date? Well, she was uncertain herself, but never mind that now.

"He's worried you aren't getting enough sleep."

"Oh, that." He relaxed in her arms. "Yeah, he's asked me if I'm sleeping okay. My eyes just bag up really easily, I guess."

Barbara held Jim out a short ways from her, examining him for signs of fatigue. Noticeable bags under his eyes, yes, he'd started getting those when he was twelve, but his pediatrician hadn't been concerned when Barbara mentioned it. Jim wasn't swaying on his feet, and his eyes were focused, and he wasn't jittery like he'd been using caffeine or sugar to compensate for exhaustion.

"Jim … if you ever need a break. A mental health day? One less chore on the roster? I get it, okay? You're a kid. A very responsible, considerate kid, but still a kid, and you need time to be a kid. And I'm your mom. It's my job to take care of you. So if you need anything, you know you can tell me, right?"

"Do what's good for you, or you're no good to anybody," Jim recited.

Mr Strickler – Walter – had shared the same quote at lunch when he asked Barbara when she'd last had time off, and gently suggested taking some might demonstrate to Jim that it was okay to prioritize oneself once in a while. Adolescents, whatever they may claim of their near-adulthood and independence, do look to actual adults for guidance, approval, and example.

"I know, Mom," said Jim. "I don't feel like I need anything right now, but I'll give it some thought and get back to you, okay? We could … revisit the topic this weekend?"

What books were on those packed shelves of his? Sometimes Jim talked like he was an office manager or something. He hadn't picked it up from her.

It was a good idea, though, so Barbara agreed.

"If you and Mr S met for lunch, then the three-bean salad's been marinating all day, not just for the morning. We can have that for dinner. Maybe a light soup and some rolls. I think we still have some frozen from last time."

"Mr Strickler seems very nice," said Barbara. "And he really likes you. I've never seen a teacher take such an interest before."

Jim, now rummaging in the freezer, made a vague affirmative noise.

"Is he single?"

Jim bumped his head on the ice cube tray.

"Um, I think so? His office has a bunch of curios but no family photos." Which implied the lack of them wasn't because he didn't care to personalize his workspace.

Jim had no confirmation Stricklander was on board with the plan yet, but Barbara spending time with Stricklander and getting him attached to her seemed to be off to a good start. That would be a good backup to keep her alive if Gunmar won anyway and Jim was exposed as a traitor.

Once his mother was asleep, he went downstairs to update Draal before going to Trollmarket.

"I've been working on our cover story. If any of the humans ask, we had a sparring match last night. I lost. You got mad and accused me of slacking off in training and said I was unworthy of the Amulet. I got mad and said I was still more worthy than you since it picked me. You took that as an insult to your father, and I apologized for that but we're both still upset; that's why things are awkward between us now."

"You didn't tell them what you really are?"

"Are you kidding me? I'm in enough trouble that Nomura knows you know; I'd be dead meat if it got out Blinky and AAARRRGGHH know, and the humans'd be dead meat with me if they knew, too."

"Hello, Trollhunter."

"… Blinky?"

"I know you speak this language. Did I actually teach you anything in our lessons?" Blinky asked bitterly.

"Blinky …" Jim scuffed his foot on the floor. "I'm sorry I … lied to you, about how much I knew. But you really did teach me a lot. I knew … keywords, before; every Changeling does, in case we overhear something about Killahead or Gunmar. I knew directions and distances and quantities. I understood … many words I heard you say. But the syntax and grammar and etiquette and culture were all new to me. That first thing you taught me, that greeting? It is my honour to meet you. I had never heard that before. I was barely literate. I … I faked how much I needed to learn, but, yes, I did learn from you."

"You don't actually know our verb for 'to deceive', do you? I'm fairly certain that comes under the heading of irony."

"Um, only as a noun. It's deception, right?"

Blinky rummaged in his pockets and got out a notebook. "Deception. Deceiving. To deceive. It's a regular verb, following the same rules as to see. Now, I have a number of questions about my brother I'd like you to answer."

"Okay. Deception, deceiving, to deceive, same rules as to see," Jim muttered. "I don't exactly know Dictatious well, but we've met."

"Describe him. I want to be sure we really are talking about the same troll."

"Okay. He mostly looks like you, except green instead of blue, nose is dark grey instead of orange, and … his horns point more up than back?"

Jim made an upward-sweeping gesture from his own head.

"Hair sticks up, too. It's got a couple of white streaks that might not've been there when you last saw him. And … I don't know if you know who Mark Hamill is, but he's a human actor and I've seen some of his movies and they sound alike. Like, uncannily alike."

Blinky slumped and sighed into his list of questions. "That's him. Next question. When and how and why did he join Gunmar?!"

Jim recoiled from the shouted inquiry.

"Survival? Maybe? I wasn't there. I'm not old enough to remember anything before Killahead closed. But either he was a double-agent already who got stuck in the Darklands with us, or he was too close and got pulled in by accident and offered the Underlord his services in order to not get killed."

Previous Chapter (Jim is convinced to turn against Gunmar)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (A breather episode after all this drama!)

The Book Of Life is a movie that canonically exists in the world of this show. Mary is giving a report on it during her Spanish Comprehension exam in the episode that introduces Gnome Chompsky. Guillermo del Toro was involved in both that movie and this show.

HannaVictoria from AO3 jokingly suggested Jim mention to Blinky that Dictatious sounds like Mark Hamill, his voice actor. I went for it.

In English, 'see' is an irregular verb. But trollish grammar is different, so I decided it would be a regular verb (one that conjugates based on consistent rules) in their language.

#Becoming The Mask chapters #trollhunters #Changeling Jim #fanfiction #Tobias Domzalski #Book of Life #Draal #parallels #Dr Barbara Lake #Walter Strickler #Stricklake #foods and beverages #conversation #Blinkous Galadrigal #Dictatious Maximus Galadrigal #Monday is fanfic day!

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scribeofmorpheus · 6 years ago

Text

Beignet, Done That! (Jake Jensen x Reader)

A One Shot

Words: 1606

Warnings: None

Inspired by my cats who take it upon themselves to slay pots and pans at 3am!!!

Clank-clank

You groaned in frustration as the sound of repeated metallic clanking woke you from your sleep. You outstretched your hand to feel for the warm body that usually lay next to you, however, you were informed of his absence by the cold touch of the sheets. You rolled on your back and let out a sigh. What was he up to now?

Clank-clank

This time the noise sounded even louder. In annoyance, you kicked out the warm covers from under you and hoisted yourself out of bed on wobbly, sleep-deprived arms. You started in the direction of the noise.

When you descended the stairs and entered the kitchen, you were completely taken aback by the sight before you: Jensen -who was wearing his signature Pink Petunia t-shirt- was practically covered in flour from head to toe, the kitchen island was a mess of cracked eggs and spilled batter and there was a mountain heap of backing trays and cooking pots in the sink. Jensen looked at you wide-eyed and embarrassed as he tried to clean his powdered hands on his slacks. You laughed at the chaotic scene before you, feeling a bit of your drowsiness alleviated from your tired body.

You ran a finger across the kitchen island in a mock inspection, "Did an IED go off in here? This place is a mess Jakey."

He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he fumbled for the right words to say, "Did I wake you?"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "No, the real Y/N is upstairs fast asleep. I'm your conscience telling you to keep the noise down. Otherwise, the neighbours will think you're murdering someone in here." You dead-panned.

He laughed a big bellowing laugh, "Babe, leave the joke making to me." He strode over to you and snaked his arms around your waist. You fought pointlessly against his strength as you tried in vain to keep your PJ's clean.

"It's sarcasm. There's a difference." You whined as you looked down at your clothes both covered in flour. "And now, I'm a mess too." Your lips fell in a pout as you looked at your lover disapprovingly.

"You'd have to be to date a guy like me. I don't think I'd handle normal girlfriends pretty well." He said smugly before he planted a kiss on your lips, his scruff tickling your jaw making you giggle. It was soft and intimate, the kind of kiss only you could bring out in him. You turned to jelly in his embrace as any thoughts of scolding him for messing up the kitchen went out the window.

Your kiss was cut short when Jake registered the 'ding' sound coming from the oven.

"They're ready!" He exclaimed like an excited kid. He jogged over to the oven to retrieve whatever experimental food poisoning he had been working on. You grabbed a moderately flour-free dishcloth and dusted one of the stools by the kitchen island before you plopped yourself down.

Even though Jake had his back facing you, you could tell almost instantly the moment his mood shifted when his shoulders slumped slightly and he let out an exasperated exhale through his nose.

"Honey, what is it?" You asked, concerned.

He turned to you and had the most adorable puppy-esque look on his face, "They're burnt." He humphed in annoyance.

"What were they supposed to be?" You judged his overly charred round balls of flat dough.

"Beignets." He looked down at his failed cuisine and tossed a handful of flour onto them.

They were your favourite. In fact, that had been the first thing you had ordered on your first date. Well, 'date' was putting it liberally. In actuality, you had met Jake while on a mission, you worked in Intelligence back then. The two of you were staking out the same target who just so happened to frequent a New Orleans French style restaurant. Your cover was as one half of a honeymooning couple and Jake was the waiter. Somehow things went to shit, which seemed to be the trademark of a regular Loser's mission apparently, and in the midst of all the chaos, explosions and gunfire, the night had ended with you and Jake snacking on the leftover Beignets in the shot-to-shit kitchen. It wasn't conventional and sometimes you ended up on the opposite sides of things, but somehow you stayed together.

"Perfection."

He raised a brow, "You must have a really low standard for perfect then."

You leaned over the island until your noses nearly touched, he still had a grumpy look to him, "Not those-" You pointed at the baking tray, "This..." you smiled and placed a peck on his cheek coaxing the first smile of the evening out of him.

"God, I love you." He glanced at you with a warmth to it.

"I know," You answered, all too smug as you sat down on the stool again.

He guffawed, depositing the tray in the sink after tossing out the charred desserts, "Okay then, Han Solo." You sighed at his poor excuse of a witty retort.

You watched him pretend to clean up, "What brought all this on?" He tried to maintain his poker face, but you knew his tells. For a master of disguise, Jake was ironically bad at keeping secrets. "Don't even think of making some crap excuse."

"It's for the Pink Petunia's fundraising bake sale."

You were impressed, if not for your intimate knowledge of his niece’s soccer team events that would have been a pretty believable excuse. You gave him a knowing look with your eyes, the one you used when he was in trouble. After a minute of intense stares and deafening silence, he caved.

"Okay, okay. I knew our anniversary was coming up and I thought I could make your favourite dessert to surprise you, but then I realised I didn't have the damndest clue on how to work an oven to make anything besides frozen pizza, so I asked Clay for some advice and he said I should make a grander romantic gesture and just 'Put a ring on it' but when I went to the jewellery store to look at rings I nearly had a stroke from looking at those prices-"

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of a ring, the two of you had been together a year and were pseudo-living together. Jake kept his small apartment in his hometown to be closer to his family and you liked the city, even though he spent much of his time sharing your apartment, the lease wasn't co-signed. Hence the two of you only 'pseudo' living together.

"Babe." You tried to get his attention, but once Jake went on a rant it was almost impossible to stop him.

"Then Aisha suggested we steal one, because 'all the best jewellery is stolen not bought' right, her words not mine. So we tried to steal this priceless heirloom from a sheikh in Dubai-"

"Wait, Dubai? I thought you guys were dispatched there to retrieve of an asset?" Suddenly it hit you that 'asset' wasn't actually code for spy this time. Jake didn't even notice you'd asked a question and just kept rambling on like he was stuck on a loop.

"But then it turns out that the very same heirloom was a fake and someone had beat us to the punch years ago, and Cougar just whispered something profound sounding in Spanish, which meant I understood about no percent of it, so when I got back I was left with no other choice than to learn how to make those stupid, fancy, deep-fried dough balls!" He threw his arms up dramatically.

You looked at him completely bewildered and that's when Jake realised that he had perhaps gone overboard on the sharing. He looked absolutely horrified at the fact he let the proposal thing slip. He cursed Clay under his breath.

"Let me get this straight. Your first idea was to make the first food we ever shared to be romantic, then Clay convinced you that proposing was even more romantic, but when you couldn’t steal the right ring, you circled back to baking?"

"Pretty much, yeah." He was neither proud nor embarrassed, but in some awkward place in between.

"You never cease to surprise me, Captain." You shook your head, "Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"When you do finally ask me to marry you, promise me you won’t wear that neon sign of a t-shirt at our wedding."

Jake feigned taking offense at your statement, "Don't hate just because pink makes me look irresistible," He walked over to you to scoop you off the stool and carry you bridal style out of the kitchen and back to your bedroom, "Besides, knowing us we'd have to elope after the first two unsuccessful wedding attempts." You laughed at his snarky comment.

"Why is that?" You asked.

"You've met my team right?" He used your greatest weapon against you, sarcasm.

"No, I don't believe I have. In fact, who are you again?" You shot back.

"I'm the guy that's going to marry you someday, but tonight I'm the asshole that destroyed your kitchen and is going to use sex to keep from having to clean it up." Your heart swelled as you giggled playfully against his neck, peppering it with love bites.

"Hey, as long as you go on a Beignet run for breakfast tomorrow, I'm fine with that trade-off."

As always feedback is welcome! I hope you liked it, I found it a bit challenging to keep Jake in character... For the ‘funny guy’ of the group he really has a unique type of humour and execution.

MASTERPOST

#jake jensen #dc #dc comics #jake jensen x reader #reader insert #Scribe Scribbles #scribescribbles #Chris Evans #dc imagine #The Losers #the losers movie

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filmflowersbangtan · 7 years ago

Text

Miracle Boy | pt. 2

pairing: jungkook x reader x jimin

genre: fluff/angst

warnings: none

word count: 3k

summary: you were a bored small town girl with Jungkook as your best friend with benefits, but when the two of you stumble upon a UFO with a boy named Jimin in it, your life changes forever.

pt. 1 | pt. 2

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your fingertips were frozen. Everything on your body felt numb. Jungkook was saying something to you, but he sounded like he was underwater. It sounded like he said something like, “we need a light” but your heartbeat was so loud.

You noticed him fumbling with something in his hands, when suddenly the flashlight on his phone blinked on. The boy – the alien – flinched away, shielding his face from the light with his arms. He was wearing robes that looked like something stolen straight from royals in an ancient Grecian civilization. The golden embroidery on the cloth matched his vivid blonde hair. He was sitting up in the pod and squinting at the light.

“Am I – am I on Earth?” he said. His voice was soft and gentle, almost overpowered by the fireworks still going off in the distance. He was shivering violently in his thin clothes with his teeth chattering so hard that you could hear them clicking together.

You and Jungkook gave each other a look. Is this real? “Yes,” you said to the alien. But your voice sounded weird. Strangled. Like someone else was speaking instead of you. This can’t be real.

There was the sound of drunken laughter and heavy footsteps clashing through the dead leaves somewhere in the darkness. You had to get the boy out of here before someone saw him. Hopefully, people would be too drunk to notice the space pod. You approached the alien boy and shrugged off your coat.

“Y/N! What the hell are you doing?” Jungkook hissed at you. You ignored him.

“Here. Have my coat,” you said to the alien. “You look like you’re freezing.”

The boy’s eyes were wide, watching you as if you were about to attack him at any moment. You gave him a smile to put him at ease and held out your coat to him, ignoring the cold that bit at your arms through your shirt like teeth. Standing that close to him, you couldn’t help but to notice the way that he smelled. Like ripe apples and honey. You wondered where he came from smelling like that and dressed in garments like a Greek god.

His eyes locked with yours as he took your coat warily. Your entire body felt uncannily warm for that split second before he looked away as he pulled on the outer garment. There was no mistaking his beauty – plump lips, perfect nose, smooth skin – like he was chiseled out of marble. He didn’t look dangerous or frightening, just vulnerable and terrified.

The laughter from the drunk partygoers behind you was getting louder, the footsteps closer.

“Come on, we have to get out of here,” Jungkook bit out.

“I know that you’re scared,” you said to the alien, “but you have to trust me. You can’t be discovered here. Me and my friend can keep you safe.” You weren’t sure if the last part was true, but you did know that if anyone else found him here that there was a high possibly that he would be exploited in some way, shape, or form. You didn’t want to scare him anymore than he was by rushing him like this was a life or death situation, so you held out your hand for him to take, but only if he absolutely wanted to. “Do you trust me?”

He was breathing through his mouth, his breaths creating little disappearing clouds in the cold air. He nodded, but just barely. If you had blinked, you surely would’ve missed it. He raised his hand and slid it onto your open and inviting palm. Despite the freezing temperature and that he was shivering, his skin was warm – feverishly so. You helped him out of the pod. There was a small feeling of victory inside of you at the fact that he decided to trust you.

You, Jungkook, and the boy made your way back to your car that was still waiting on the side of the road on the fringe of the woods. Jungkook was giving you a strange look, and you quickly shook off Jimin’s hand once you realized that you were still grasping it. The abnormal heat from his body vanished in an instant, like you imagined that it was there in the first place, inviting a rush of unwelcome cold onto you. All of you climbed in the car, and you cranked up the heat to as far as it could go.

“This is so strange,” Jungkook said, rubbing his hands together before placing them over the air vent to thaw them. “This is so fucking strange.”

“You’re being overdramatic,” you said as you yanked on your seatbelt.

“I’m being overdramatic? You have an extraterrestrial being in your backseat, just in case you didn’t know.”

You sighed. You didn’t want to admit to him how terrified you were regarding the situation. Was taking the boy with you a mistake? Should you have left him there? What would happen since you did decide to take him? You couldn’t shake the ominous sensation that you had made a terrible choice that would affect your life forever. But the deed was done. He was in your car now, and you weren’t going to kick him out.

“What’s your name?” you said to the boy, glancing at him in the backseat through your rearview mirror as you drove.

He was spaced out, his mind floating elsewhere until he realized that you were talking to him. He blinked a few times to gather himself. “J – Jimin. My name is Jimin.” He looked a little cute in your favorite coat with the faux fur lining the hood, and you thought that the name Jimin fit him.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

He pushed on a weary smile to be polite, but you could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

“And this idiot next to me is Jungkook.”

Jungkook flipped you off, but he pressed on a smile for Jimin, giving him a two-fingered salute.

“Are you hungry Jimin?” you asked.

He uttered out a “yes,” so you made a right onto the road that lead to your and Jungkook’s favorite little twenty-four-hour diner: Lenny’s Truck Stop. Sana, the waitress and recent graduate from your high school that Jungkook had most definitely banged a few times greeted the three of you once you sat in your usual booth. And she most definitely saw Jimin’s outfit by the way that her eyes hovered on him. Or she could’ve been staring because of his otherworldly beauty. Or both. Jungkook sat beside you, close enough that your thighs were touching.

“Hi, guys. The usual?” Sana asked, but she gave you all menus anyway.

“Sure thing,” Jungkook said without even opening a menu.

“Same for me as well,”

She turned to Jimin, smiling brightly at him. “And what about you, handsome?”

Jimin looked to you as if he was searching for an answer. You didn’t know why that made you feel special. But it was obvious that he was out of his element and so uncomfortable because he was trying to slouch into himself.

“He’ll take the same thing as me,” you said.

Sana nodded and waltzed off to put in your orders to the cook, but not without her eyes lingering on Jimin for another moment.

“Wow. You’ve only been on Earth for ten minutes and you’re already getting ‘the look,’” Jungkook joked, but you could sense the unease in him.

You elbowed him in his side. “Shut up, Jungkook. Someone could hear you.”

“You really think anyone would believe that we picked up an alien in the woods, and now we’re about to eat a meal with him? Don’t get me wrong, I’m still freaked the fuck out, but don’t be all paranoid.” Sometimes it annoyed you how stubborn he was and how he didn’t like to take many things seriously. But you noticed the glare that Jimin was giving your friend. Jungkook stiffened when he picked up on it, too.

“Please,” Jimin said. His voice was quiet, but there was an intensity to it that gave you a feeling that he was trying to convey more than what his words were saying. “Please don’t be so loud about this.”

Jungkook’s eyes were already big, but somehow there were even bigger now. “Okay,” he managed out. “Chill. I was joking.” He draped his arm over your shoulders casually, like he had done a dozen times before in your friendship, but in front of Jimin it suddenly felt wrong. You didn’t know why.

An awkward silence settled over the three of you like a fine dust.

You felt like you had the responsibility of breaking it. “So…what brings you to, um, here?” you said to Jimin.

Exhaustion hung on his face. You hated that you asked him that question as if he was a tourist here in your town. “My home was…overrun. I didn’t have a choice but to escape.”

You wished that you hadn’t have asked in the first place.

“That’s some heavy shit, man,” Jungkook said.

The three of you had to suffer through another round of silence until Sana returned with your food. Buttermilk waffles and a side of egg whites for you and Jimin, while Jungkook ordered a double cheeseburger with bacon and a side of fries.

Jimin scarfed down the food like a man that had been deprived of meals for months. Space travel must take a lot out of a person. He ate with his hands, not bothering with maple syrup, and took giant bites out of the waffles. It concerned you that you still somehow found him attractive.

Jimin finished his food before you and Jungkook did. He picked at the peeling vinyl on the cracked seats, and continued to glance out of the windows and over his shoulder like someone was out to get him. You figured that he was still a little paranoid because of what he just told you and Jungkook, so you placed your hand on top of his that was on the table. There was that heat again. Almost burning this time.

“It’s okay. You’re safe with us. No one is going to hurt you,” you said in a voice that you hoped was soothing.

Jimin didn’t appear to be very convinced, but he nodded nonetheless. You retracted your hand from his, and you could’ve sworn that Jungkook scooted closer to you, but maybe that was just your imagination. Jimin flinched when Sana returned with her bright voice and a check. What the hell was wrong with him?

“There’s something off about him,” you whispered to Jungkook as Jimin changed in the bathroom in your room.

“No shit,” Jungkook said. “We saw this guy drop from the fucking sky in a space thingy!”

You shushed him. “Don’t be so loud.” But your heart was thrumming in your ears again. Why was Jimin so jumpy back at the diner? Was someone following him? He was trouble. You felt that in your very core. But then why did you feel the need to protect him? Why did you bring him to your home and give him clothes that Jungkook had left in your room to wear?

Jungkook was gesturing wildly with his hands, his face so red that you thought that he was going to faint. “It’s cool that you gave him your coat and paid for his meal and shit, but bringing him back to your house is crossing the line. There’s a fine line between E.T. and that fucking thing from Alien. You don’t know which one he is.”

“But he looks like neither,” you said. You knew that you sounded stupid, but you couldn’t help that gut feeling that you needed to help Jimin. You also never saw Jungkook so pissed at you before.

“So what are you going to do? Keep him here? For how long? Until we graduate in a few months? What then? Are you going to take him to college with you?”

“For fuck’s sake, Kook! Can you get off my goddamned back? I don’t know anything, okay? Maybe I am stupid for bringing him here. Maybe he’ll cut me open in my sleep. I don’t know! But did you see him back there in those woods? Did you see him at the diner? He’s scared. And I couldn’t just leave him out in the middle of nowhere.”

Jungkook’s eyes softened at that. He touched your arm and rubbed little circles there. “I’m sorry. I’m just really freaked out.”

“And you think I’m not?”

“I know, I know.” He sighed and glanced at the bathroom door. “Do you want me to stay over tonight? Just in case something happens?”

If something were to happen, you weren’t sure if Jungkook was capable of protecting you. It was getting late and his parents had a habit of flipping out on him if he came home past one in the morning. It was pushing midnight now. “No,” you said. “I’ll be fine.” But you weren’t sure if you really were going to be. “Just go home and get some rest.”

He nodded, knowing that it was a bad idea to argue with you about it because of how stubborn you were. He kissed you on your forehead. The gesture caught you off guard because he’d never done such a thing before. He hugged you tightly, and when he let you go, he was looking at you as if he had more to say, but decided against it.

“Call me if you need anything, okay? I’ll be here faster than you can say E.T.” He winked and made his way out of the door.

You turned when you heard the bathroom door creak open. Jimin was dressed in Jungkook’s sweatpants and baggy, black T-shirt, the collar hanging low and exposing his collarbone. You noticed that he was searching the room for something.

“Jungkook went home,” you said.

Jimin nodded. His robes were in his arms, and he had them clutched to his chest. It was the only thing that he had left that reminded him of home. The sight made your chest ache a little. It made you think of when you first moved to this town back when you missed living in sunny California with every fiber in your being, and the plush Minnie Mouse toy that your dad bought you at Disneyland was something that you sought solace in. Jimin looked like you always did back then, alone and out of your element. All you wanted to do was make him feel at ease.

“Do you want something to drink? I can get you some water if you’d like,” you said. You weren’t sure what to say to someone who was literally from outer space.

“No, thank you. I’d just really like to sleep.”

The only place that you had to sleep in your room was your bed. You were okay with sleeping on the floor if that meant Jimin was comfortable. He took the bed, and you made a mat on the floor out of spare blankets and pillows. Despite the fact that your carpet and blankets were the softest things that you’d ever felt, you couldn’t sleep. It seemed that Jimin couldn’t either by the way that he tossed and turned, thrashing in the sheets to find a comfortable position.

Finally, he spoke up. “Y/N? Are you awake?” he said in that sweet voice of his.

“Yes,” you said, staring up at the ceiling. You kept the salt lamp that was in the corner of your room on for a little light. The thought of being in a pitch-black room with a stranger didn’t settle too well on your conscience.

“I apologize in advance if this is inappropriate, but I’d feel more comfortable if you slept in the bed,” he said. “I’ll take the floor.”

“No, it’s completely okay. I’m fine down here.”

He was quiet for a moment. You could hear the clock on the far wall ticking softly.

“We could share the bed? I don’t think you should sleep on the floor, and you don’t want me to sleep on the floor, either,” he said. “But only if you’re comfortable with it,” he quickly added.

Something in your chest lurched. You knew that sharing a bed with him would be a bad idea, but this entire night after the party was a bad idea. That time that you lost your virginity to Jungkook your junior year of high school was a bad idea. But there you were, slowly standing from the floor and lifting the blankets on the empty side of the bed. Jimin was watching you the same way that he did back in the woods, like he was the one that should be afraid and not the other way around. You sighed when you settled in the mattress as if you hadn’t slept on it for months.

You and Jimin lay on your sides, watching each other in the dim light that your lamp emitted. His breaths were even, but yours were ragged like you’d just finished a 5k. He looked somewhat ominous with shadows thrown across his face, but melancholy all the same. Even in this low lighting he was so beautiful – ethereal. Were all aliens that damn beautiful?

He was so close that you could feel his breath on your skin. Hear his bass of a heartbeat. (His or yours? You weren’t sure.) Smell the ripe apples and raw honey. He searched your face for something, while you examined his, the both of you trying to figure each other out.

“Thank you,” he said. “For taking me in. I’ve lost…everything. If you hadn’t have brought me here, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

You wanted to know more about this mysterious boy who’d fallen from the stars, but you knew that now wasn’t the right time. There was a rustling noise under the blankets, and then something heavy in your hand. Heat raced through your veins, warming up your skin. He was holding your hand. He squeezed once, twice. There was a tiny, content smile on his lips.

“You’re welcome,” you whispered, breathless.

He closed his eyes, never letting go of your hand. And in an instant, he was asleep.

a/n: I finally posted part two! I had to go back and fix some small errors in continuity in part one, and it also took me forever to post this just because I kept proofreading and editing. But now it’s done! Already working on part 3, so I hope I’ll see ya then! xoxo

#bts scenarios #jimin fluff #bts jimin #kreativewritersnet #jungkook fanfic

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spilled-ink-and-city-lights-blog · 7 years ago

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Chapter One of my novel (and an extra plug for patreon)

I’ve been working on this beast, Wayward Soul, since my senior year of high school and I’m just now releasing it into the wild, forgoing traditional publishing because down with the man or something like that. I figure I’ll post the first chapter here for anyone so inclined and then a link to my patreon, in which a dollar a month will help with rent/catfood/human food/etc.

I tossed the end of my cigarette from the open window of my truck, watched the resulting fireball skitter away before dying on the asphalt. My girlfriend wasn’t present to give me the usual spiel about my litter being eaten by squirrels or stray kittens who would then develop cancer because of my negligence. It was three in the morning and I had to be back to work in five hours. The regular night shift worker had called off with a mysterious illness that had conveniently struck on the first warm day of spring when everyone was crawling out of their houses and blinking as if they’d never seen such sun before. As for me, I was stuck in the cold damp of The Warehouse.

The Warehouse wasn’t a warehouse of anything specific, more of a hub of all things needing shipped. Every breeze that blew through the Civil War era structure set the building to sounding as if it were alive and displeased about it, with creaks and groans echoing down the oversized corridors. I didn’t believe in the rumors that The Warehouse was a hospital for soldiers in days gone by and I didn’t believe in ghosts, but there’s something about three in the morning that strips the skepticism from a man.The only good part about working graveyard was that everyone in their right mind was already home in bed, and I had the roads to myself. I was already half asleep and the fewer obstacles to crash into when I inevitably dozed, the better.

I slipped into autopilot and my mind wandered to my bed. The radio did nothing to improve the situation; I had heard the same six songs on the local station so many times that they all blurred together into what may as well have been a lullaby. Something moved in the corner of my vision at the side of the road. I hoped that I wasn’t going to get bombarded by Bambi or his woodland friends. As soon as the thought crossed my sleep deprived brain the thing shot into the road in front of me and stopped still. and I slammed on the breaks at the same time as wrenching the steering wheel to the left, into the empty other lane. The truck skidded almost sideways across both lanes before it came to a stop with the thing standing close enough to reach out and touch the bumper. A person? I wondered what the hell a person was doing trying to play Frogger on a backroad at three in the morning. I didn’t think that there were any bars nearby to send too-drunk patrons stumbling home in the early hours. I jumped out into the darkness, the residual adrenaline telling me to beat the Hell out of the asshole that had nearly caused me to wreck. The slam of the door sounded like a gunshot in the darkness. And then I paused.

Now that I was standing so close, I could see that it was actually he, and he was a child that came up just past my waist. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around himself, watching me with huge, shockingly green eyes that seemed to reflect the beam of the headlights as an animal’s would. He shrunk away from me as I approached, adding to the illusion that it was some sort of strange animal that sat before me in the road. Good parenting, I thought, losing a six-year-old in the middle of hillbilly backwater country. I looked around for any sign of a parent: flashlights, headlights, panicked screams. A loon wailed from beyond the line of trees, and that was all. “Better get out of the road, kid. You’re gonna get yourself killed,” I called, and his eyes locked on mine, startled and hurt. I could hear the distant roar of a car, far away but fast approaching. “Seriously, move!”The kid started crying and covered his ears. “You’re going to be roadkill here in a second!” I said, and scooped him up under the arms, ignoring his protests.

I opened the passenger side door and tossed him in the general direction of it, jumped in myself, and reversed to swing to the shoulder of the road. He was howling, and he had compressed himself as far away from me as he could manage. I locked the doors, half scared that the kid would make another break for it and head straight back into the road. It crossed my mind how this must look to an outsider: a shaggy, pale, probably wild-eyed man with a tiny child locked in his truck with no indication of a booster seat or anything else that might place the ownership of the child in his hands. Dammit. “What am I going to do with you?” I asked. The kid was making some impossibly high, keening noise directly into my right ear. I tried to turn on the radio, hoping for some potentially soothing music to diffuse the situation, but all I got was a harsh blast of static that caused me to jump and accidentally punch the horn as I tried to turn it back off. The only CD in the six cd changer was slipknot. Soothing. At least the screaming of the music deadened the kid’s screaming a bit.

I flipped open my crappy dinosaur age cellphone and dialed 9-1-1.The dispatcher sounded irritated. I had always thought that they went through training to be able to talk about guts and severed heads while still sounding as close to Bob Ross as humanly possible, but this guy wasn’t having it. He promised to send the cops my way and I hung up to let him get back to whatever dispatchers in rural areas do in the middle of the night when nobody is doing anything stupid to send paramedics or cops to. I turned the heat up. The kid had warn himself out with his carrying on and his eyes had begun to droop. I closed mine as well. If I was going back into work at six in the morning, not even this was going to stop me from getting some sleep first. What else was I going to do, besides stare at trees or watch the kid sleep like some kind of actual creep?

When I woke up again, the seat behind me was empty. I assumed the kid had crawled into the back, but he wasn’t there either. I found myself awake with a solid jolt of adrenaline straight to the bloodstream. He didn’t look old enough to be competent at managing door locks, so where had he gone? Surely enough, upon examination the doors were still locked locked from the inside and the keys still in the ignition. My pulse throbbed behind my eyes. I had always figured that my brain was a tad bit fried from a decade of drug use, but hallucinating small children on abandoned roads was a new one. I decided the best course of action was to take off before the cops finished their snail-paced crawl to my location and pretend that this night had never happened.

https://www.patreon.com/dcayton

#writing #spilled ink #wayward soul #first novel #my own frankenstein monster #it's aliiiiive #patreon #chapter 1

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knockknockitsknk · 7 years ago

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Hi Thana!! Can i request a College!YoungK x Reader fluff AU? Where he's artsy and she/he's into literature or history?? Or even math lol! I hope this is okay lol n thank you so much in advance!! 💜💜

You got it fam and it’s okay you cool. Hopefully this is good!! Also...I might have went a bit off prompt with the genre but I hope this is still good!!

Bri--I mean, Youngk is a music major with a focus on songwriting because we all know he’s really good at songwriting okay? okay

Somehow?? He’s one of the more popular people in his department but then people kept calling him Brian

He suspected that it was Jae’s doing but oh well

He’s also in a band and yes he is that Hot Bassist

But listen he’s also helps write the songs for the band and they’re so meaningful although at times it can get sexy does anyone even remember Hunt

He writes and sings it out (and also raps too, seriously what can this man not do??)

but then there is You: the Math major...or was it History? You switched your major a couple of times before you settled in on literature

While readings seem to bore the hell out of everyone, it interested you from analyzing to reading for pure enjoyment

Although the older texts seem to confuse you primarily because of the language but you get through it

People have no idea how you do it but you just shrug it off

You also tend to spend your time in the library when you’re not studying for your other classes or hanging out with friends

Oh yeah, and YoungK’s your boyfriend; people have no idea how you guys even.

Listen, you guys tend to be one of the more “chiller” couples (eye emojis @ the rest of the band who won’t just CHILL but there is Brian so what can you do)

Coffee shops dates are usually a once per week thing because Bri bri here has band practice after his classes and you have a lot of reading to do and those assignments won’t do themselves

But hey you guys talk and sometimes Brian is like “oh wait hold on” and gets out some paper because you tend to be his muse

And there is this Look in his eyes whenever you talk about the latest book that your class is reading or whatever you’re reading and next thing you know the conservation goes waaaay out of hand with a lot of giggles and jokes in between.

There is also jam out sessions when things get too stressful; exams are usually the times where these happen.

Sometimes they’re songs that Brian composed, sometimes they’re very popular songs that happen to be on the playlist

You also request that he dances to SISTAR’s Touch My Body and it was great you even took a video of it and play it whenever you’re sad or stressed out

There is also FOOD.

Midnight snack runs are a common occurrence no matter the season

Like very casually one of you will hit the other up at an ungodly hour

“Hey wanna get food?”

“wtf it’s 2 am. ofc I would love to get food with you”

Snacks, snacks, and even more snacks

You swear you have a collection growing under your bed

You also usually eat those snacks whenever Brian comes over

There is also Fried Chicken and usually those are eaten on Fridays

Because it’s Fried Chicken Friday

Study sessions are either Very Serious(tm) or you goofing off but it’s usually the former.

Brian knows how serious you can get when it comes to studying so he’ll usually leave you alone unless you’re very stressed and he can usually tell by the way you text or the one look in your eye.

He tries to help out the best he can but seeing as how you two are in different majors, there’s only so much he can do

But also there will be times where Brian needs to be left alone because sometimes he needs space

Oh and there’s a song to be written and composed and that needs his attention

And even though you’re a bit deprived of your Daily YoungK, you understand that he needs to Focus on this

But from time to time, you bring him some food and drink and, very rarely, have to drag him outside because “Brian when was the last time you’ve seen the light of day?”

“Uh....” he would stammer a bit

“Thought so”

You both comforting each other when things get bad on either of your sides

Cuddle sessions and oh my god Brian gives out the best cuddles

He’s the big spoon, you’re the little spoon and sometimes you just fall asleep

But very rarely he wants to be held and when he does he just sighs and enjoys being held by you

You running your hand through his hair as he talks about what happened and you just humming because you have no words

But that’s alright, he really appreciates the fact that you’re listening and you playing with his hair is a Bonus.

And then when the mood comes, you just buy him hair color spray because you hate to see him damage his hair with constantly dying/bleaching it so you thought hair color spray might be better

He loved it and made sure to show you every color you bought him.

And when the day ends and you’re ready for bed, he’ll give you a call to tell you good night and sweet dreams and hopefully you won’t get nightmares. Also a good night text too.

Then when the day starts all over again, he’ll send you a good morning text and meet you so you can walk to your classes and have coffee and probably spill some tea.

Somewhere along the line, Jae lowkey teases you both through his twitter

Brian gets back at him by starting a Twitter roast session and winning

You obviously cheering on Brian

Basically your relationship with Brian is a very fluffy one with some stress because college is like that but hey you make it work and you make it work epically

#day6 scenario #day6 au #youngk au #youngk scenario #((this got a bit...long....whoops....))#((also I hope this is fluffy enough? I felt like I went a bit off prompt esp on the genre...whoops))#((this got out of hand I didn't know where to end))#freebird1786

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mollywattsjohnson · 7 years ago

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Florence (05.28.15)

Florence, a city of twinkling lights, jewels sprinkled out of someone’s hand, laid across the landscape in a free fall, the moon shining overhead. “Wild World” comes on my music and it’s strangely exactly what I want to listen to. I picture the whole plane singing it as we land.

I’m pushed and prodded off of the airplane by a crowd of very hurried people and we all pile into a shuttle bus. J and I are buzzing from our cappuccinos, talking a mile a minute and swatting at each other, so jacked up we can’t stand still long enough to touch one another’s arms. We race into the baggage claim and I wedge my way into crowd. Our bags arrive in the first load, I grab them from off of the belt and nearly topple over myself and a little old lady as I push them back through the crowd. I’m out of control excited. We speed out of the doors and into the Italian night. The air. Oh, the air. So clean and fresh and welcoming, I drink it and feel full. We grab a taxi at the stand and we’re off.

Our driver doesn’t really speak English but he’s sweet and asks us questions, how we know each other, what we do, why we’re here. We explain that we are together and are studying at school and he seems pleased, saying that there is something very delicate about two girls, something delicato. We smile and shoot each other a look. But then he says he doesn’t understand when I tell him J is my girlfriend and he asks us how we can be girlfriends if we are not married. She explains that we aren’t, we’re just together.

We arrive at Villa Natalia around 12:30am. We check in, find out that we are rooming together (something I was scared would not happen) and head up to our room. We throw our bags down, unpack and sprint back out into the night. We have a city to explore.

We scour the streets like pirates, the city empty and alone. Free. It’s almost like it had been waiting for us. We walk for about an hour trying to find something open. When we ask for places to eat the locals seem amazed by the question. We know it’s late but keep trying until we remember it’s Sunday. Nothing is going to be open. Frustrated but determined we move on until we find a run down little Kebab place nestled in the corner of a side street, its banner torn and waving in the small breeze. Plates of food are stacked and displayed along the counter. We walk in and two sweet guys who speak English ask us what we want. We kind of panic and ask for French fries and falafel but we then realize that the display foods are the foods they’re serving. One guy grabs the solo plate of fries that’s got a tiny mound of jagged pink meat on it. He microwaves it in a tinfoil container and I wait for the whole place to blow up. It doesn’t but I can sense that J shares my desire to say we’ve changed our minds and to leave but we both feel badly for making them stay open to get us the food so we smile, pay the three euros and escape back into the street.

We laugh. It’s not the first time we’ve both sensed a bad vibe from a restaurant but didn’t want to hurt the other one’s feelings or the server’s by deciding to leave. We swear we’ll never do it again and trudge on. We walk in silence, the night and the day and the city sinking into our bones and clothes and we retreat into our own experiences, occasionally brushing our pinkies together as we sway through the cobbled streets. We round a corner into a small square and hear rock music and smell food. We squeal and all but run over to the little lighted café. Cigarette smoke and beer and laughter cloud our senses as we push through a group of young Italians sitting outside. We ask if the bartender if they have or are still serving any food. He nods. There is pizza left and we order a slice of vegetable and a slice of cheese as well as a draft beer. We go sit outside, brushing a space clean amidst the cluttered tables. The beer is flat but it’s perfect and there are peanuts scattered everywhere. She goes quiet as we eat our pizza, grease dripping down our chins, old cigarettes turning to ash in the tray. Right now, the city is hers more than it is mine and I can tell she wants to give it to me, to share her memories and secrets and pieces but is torn, knowing that it’ll be different, that she can’t force what was. I want to stumble my way through, eat it slowly, and we’re fighting against the two sides of this strange little coin.

We pay our bill and ask the bartender to call us a cab. We slide back into the street which is empty, echoing and it isn’t until two days later that we realize how much of a centre it is, how crowded it can become. A stumbling drunk man and his friends are getting out of a cab but the guy turns back inside, vomiting either in or right next to the car, we can’t tell. We edge away from him, sharing a fear of vomit, shivering with the air’s cold. Our cab arrives and we scramble in. Once back at campus, we collapse into bed but stay up talking until it’s 5am and the birds are chirping and the sun is peeking through the windows and my eyes have kind of sealed themselves open but my brain has shut down and shorted. We have to be up at 8. We laugh because this time last year we did the same thing; J stayed up until the sunrise on the phone with me as I lay in my bed in Canada. We smile at each other and drift into a dreamless sleep.

Breakfast ends at 9 and we barely make it down in time to grab a plate full of croissants and jam and hard boiled eggs. We line up cappuccinos like shots and pound them back, forcing our bodies to wake up, to stand upright.

The croissants. THE CROISSANTS. I want to marry them, every single one, and take them out to live in the country inside a cloud made of smiles and we’ll all live and die together as one. Seriously, they’re amazing. I can’t stop eating them. I’m eating one now and it’s 12am and it’s my second of the day and I DON’T EVEN CARE.

There’s an orientation meeting at 10am and it lasts for about 110 years but it’s interesting and the woman running it is the sweetest person ever and I’m so sleep deprived I feel high and open to anything and everything. We work on some poems for our first class as we wait through an immigration check. J and I swap notes on each other’s pieces and experiment with our own work, trying to figure out what in the fuck is this thing called Poetry. I haven’t written any poems in a while and I feel weird and awkward and then remember that I really don’t know what I’m doing and it feels like a release and I keep going.

We take a tour around the campus and the gardens. We lag behind everyone else, moving at our own pace, stopping to point out little surprise flowers and birds, the way the sun is shining through the branches. It’s simple and easy. No force. We eat lunch outside with our cappuccinos and computers. We hustle over to our first meeting only to find out it’s been moved to 4:30 and then eventually discover that we were the only ones who knew about it. There’s a weird feeling about the place, like everyone is only half-here, half-aware of what is happening. I feel it in myself too. I can’t tell where it is coming from. Maybe it’s just what summer is like, no matter where you are or what you’re doing. Maybe I’m not being present or I’m trying too hard to be. I think, maybe I don’t deserve this.

We head into town to go get groceries but get lost and then realize the place we want to go to is closed. Frustrated and tired, I storm off into the crowd, overwhelmed by tourists and tired of being led down confusing streets, waiting for buses that don’t come, feeling like an idiot trying to ask for directions.

I feel foolish here, a walking stereotype. I don’t speak the language and when I try to, I feel awkward and apologetic. I bump into people on the sidewalk, I forget to greet them as I enter their stores and I don’t eat meat so I can’t enjoy the beautiful, beautiful array of sliced meats that are served everywhere we go. This is a silly thing to complain about and an easily fixable one at that, but I feel dumb for not being able to enjoy every single piece of this place because of my own limitations, my own personal restrictions. My fears.

It’s 1am on our third night and I’ve been drinking wine for about an hour out of a tiny little espresso mug, refilling as I go, and I’m now a little tipsy, my face flushed and my body warm. I don’t drink a lot. Alcohol freaks me out; I don’t trust it. My dad made sure growing up that I knew how dangerous it is, how many he regrets he has because of it, how many people he knows whose lives have been lost to it. I saw it as this seemingly harmless demon that I both feared and craved to know, to have. I wanted to join its club. And I did, for all of five seconds my senior year of high school and freshman year of college but then it made me feel fat and bloated and my face would get really red and sweaty, and I hate hate hate throwing up.

But tonight I feel drunk and sleepy and giddy. I’m sitting at our desk writing and drinking and eating, kissing my girl when I get up to stretch or grab a pen, listening to our keyboards clicking through the air as we write and write and write, our hands bleeding black ink across computer screens, spilling our thoughts onto a page, letting them take us wherever they go. I never thought I’d meet someone who I can do this kind of stuff with. I feel like I’m living in an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel or a Jack Kerouac poem only it’s real and a little less fraught with self-destruction. I like it.

It’s late and there’s too much to write about. I can’t believe I even get to complain about having too much to write about. So here is the quick version:

I’ve eaten the best gelato ever in the world and I’ve eaten it back to back to back. I’ve drunk some of the best wine that only cost 3 euros a bottle and trekked it up and down and around the streets of Florence. I’ve walked until my feet felt like they were going to fall off and then walked some more, not caring. I’ve eaten a sandwich called the Orgasmic Sandwich and laughed with kind Italian men who can’t really speak my language and I can’t really speak theirs but we know sex humour and we know life’s silliness. I’ve kissed my girl in an Italian sunset and woken up to the sounds of birds outside my window and artists in the hallways. I’ve done more in the past three days than I think a lot of people do in their lifetimes and it doesn’t feel real. But I know I’m happy. And sad. And a little drunk. I know it’s great and strange and too good to be true and I also know that I don’t know anything and that’s enough, for now.

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originaldetectivesheep · 7 years ago

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A Life of Riley Part 1 - The Problem With Grinckles ch 2

Chapter 1

I held up as usual at the door to the lab; the drop bars weren't down, but that in itself didn't mean there wasn't anything high-voltage operating at the moment, and from the low hiss under the whirr and grind of old, unbalanced computer fans and the half-there flashes and blips of blue light on the ceiling, it looked like someone might be welding something in behind the dismantled refrigerator that Riley used as an isolation station. I walked slowly around, craning my neck back; the more information you got about what was going on inside before you tried to butt in to the AP lab the better, and if you didn't want to get zapped, you did your information collecting with all your body parts well outside the doorway. "Hey," I said, raising my voice just a little. "Hey, it's Leo – is it ok if I come in? Riley wanted me to come by and check some harnesses?"

Carolína's voice answered from behind a stack of takeout boxes and random server rack parts. "Shush – not so loud. Yuping is sleeping." I scanned around, looking over the lab, as much as I could see, and finally saw his characteristic black brush of hair parked on the metal foot of a drill press. I nodded and lowered my voice to a stage whisper.

"Sorry – but is it ok if I come in? Am I gonna get zapped?" I was looking back over at where Carolína had to be sitting down behind that stuff – she was pretty short, but not that short – but still trying to keep a weather eye on the refrigerator in case Riley set something on fire.

Carolína stood up, her head just clearing the hoses on top of the uppermost pizza box on the desk, and waved me over with a hand. "It's ok – Riley is just welding, all the high-voltage stuff is down. But be careful – there is a lot of sims running, so you don' want to kick out a cord on anything."

"Got it," I said, crossing the threshold, carefully picking up my feet so that I didn't trip on anything. At least this was just extension cords instead of volatile coolant hoses or something. You never knew what you were getting in here. I slid gingerly along the wall, mindful of any taped-up notices or radiation monitors, but mostly trying to avoid the jenga tower of humming, wheezing, servers stacked on servers, all post-itted DO NOT TOUCH or SIMULATION RUNNING, DO NOT DISTURB or MOTHERBOARD HAS SEVERE GROUND FAULT, DISCHARGE STATIC BEFORE OPENING, and made my way around to Carolína's workstation, an alcove almost under some metal wall shelving that was barely big enough for her to turn around in. In the semi-enclosed corner the noise of all the server fans pressed in like the starting line at a drone race, and you couldn't get away from the baking heat and the way the whole lab smelled like welding flux and old barbecue sauce. I had no idea how in the hell Yuping could sleep in here.

Carolína pushed an old rubber-top library stool over my way, and handed me a packet of harness drawings as I sat down, turning back for a second to check or restart something on her own system, a slim modern netbook plugged into an ancient Sun monitor that looked like it had the power draw of a nuclear submarine and enough square footage to house at least three bearded banh mi artisans with labret plugs. I sat down on the stool, knees spread wide to hold the papers up, and started to flip through. "I'm sorry about the paper," she said, fingers plattering at her chiclet keys, "but we had to start some airflow simulations this morning that took up the last other thing we could connect to a monitor. And Riley wanted to check the plotter, in case we need to send anything out to be fabricated." The shops that the Applied Physics lab could afford to send work to, for stuff they couldn't make themselves in here by hand, sometimes didn't have email addresses to send CAD blueprints to, and certainly didn't have any computers on the shop floor that weren't shorted-out boxes full of iron filings.

I clicked my pen, squinting to make out the cable pinout. "No, it's ok," I said. "It's half my fault, I know I'm a little early. I certainly didn't mean to be over here at the crack of dawn – I don't know how you guys do it."

Carolína sighed. "Mostly, it is by Riley saying 'just a little more, just one more run, what if we change this parameter' – and then you end up sleeping on the drill press." She nodded over in the general direction of Yuping. "But you, what about you? You said you were early – what happened? Guilty conscience and you couldn't sleep?" She turned halfway around, a smile poking up at the corner of her mouth.

I shook my head. "Kicked out of bed is what happened." I marked a correction on the drawing to not swap the connection between the four and five pins and was about to turn the page, but Carolína was leaning in forward, turned all the way around, fingers tented under her chin, eagerly waiting for me to dish. Fine. "So if you have to know, last night I got together with… this dude" – I wasn't going to name names if I didn't have to – "that I'd been circling around for like eight months of us never being single at the same time, and we were supposed to mess around some more this morning, and then an hour from now I would take like a minute and grab the schematic from here on our way to brunch, but I say one word, one goddamn word about how I have friends in this lab and he's all gtfo, new phone who dis. I can understand not wanting to get attached, but jesus, there's a line here. Brunch, man, brunch." I shook my head again.

Carolína was leaned over to one side, smiling, head in one hand as she half-turned her chair back and forth. "Poor you, Leo, poor you. Or really, poor him if he decides that he doesn't want to sleep with you because Riley. Didn't you dodge a bullet with that, not getting involved with someone like this?" She stopped and straightened up, a half-glance back to the monitor to make sure that whatever was on there was still running. "I mean, one-night-stand; you can't get burnt up about it. What happened to Vera? I liked Vera."

I grimaced. "She did the math out and found out I had more ex-boyfriends than ex-girlfriends, and then threw a screaming christianiption fit about it. Nope. Nooope."

"Poor you, Leo, poor you." Carolína was turned all the way back around, tuning something in a config file. "Nobody going to cuddle you, nobody going to save you from the hell fire." Ahead of her, a fountain of blue sparks hissed up over the top of the refrigerator.

"At this point I would settle for being saved from the stomach growlers," I said, flipping pages to make sure that the same connector part was being used for both ends of the cable and checking it off. "Did you hear the part where I came over here without breakfast?"

"I heard that," Carolína said, still not turned around, "but I don' know what you expect us to do about it. You're like a cat with half an E-E degree – you only come to the lab when you're hungry."

"Or when you have work for me to do. I'm working now – doesn't that count for something?"

"It does, but there isn't no food in the lab right now." Carolína paused, fingers flying to make sure that she got the code values in exactly correct. "We started late – it's not like pizza crusts and spare fried rice happen by magic, we got to order it, and we didn't. There might be like some tater tots or peas in the medical fridge that you could throw in one of the microwave housings. Maybe."

I stood up. "It's better than nothing. I suppose I shouldn't ask why the food is in the medical fridge?"

"Because, you coddled goober, frozen foods make great icedowns for bruises and crap wherever you need to tape them across, unlike block ice or those blu-pack things that cost real money, and in a pinch we can feed randos out of them when they come mewling." Riley had stopped welding and was leaning over the fridge, mask up, torch nozzle dangling idly from one gloved hand.

I nodded and waved. "Hi, Riley; sup. Guess I'll see what you've got in terms of emergency ice packs. Thanks." I ducked around the shelves and stepped past what looked like a generator housing in the middle of the floor to get to the lime-green minifridge with the biohazard symbol peeling off the front. "Is this it? Is this the one? I don't want to open something that's going to like break biocontainment or arc out or something?"

"No, that's the one," Carolína said, leaning around to check. "There should probably be some nacho cheese in there too, if it hasn't gone off."

"Nacho cheese?" I asked, squatting down in front of the fridge, trying to see what of these freezerburned bags were normal Ore-Ida or Birdseye crap and what was maybe a deer liver or random lizard parts. "In the medical fridge? What the crap is that for, growing penicillin?"

"It's for putting on our ice packs when you get hungry, meatlord," Riley said from the other side of the room, bent over as if to make sure that the valve on the acetylene tank was closed off. "There's probably barbecue sauce and duck sauce in that pile of Chinese extras that hasn't gone bad yet if you want it."

"And I'm pretty sure that there's still coffee in the coffee pot the other side of the fridge," Carolína put in. "Unless it's got moldy."

I had the top off the cheese, and it didn't look any less healthy than any other jar of cheese sludge you might find. "In which case it's kombucha in there, right. Eh, it's ok – I'm going to be putting so much radiation through this breakfast it's barely going to matter. Can someone tear me off a takeout lid to put it in while I find a cup that isn't full of pencils?"

The coffee in the pot turned out to be fresh, and nearly warm, and not filled with a hideous mold culture (these are all independent propositions in the Applied Physics lab); someone had probably made a new pot a couple hours ago and then completely forgotten about it in the throes of sleep deprivation. It was only a couple of minutes to get it warmed up again over an open gas jet while the microwave emitter pulsed off at my breakfast, pointed into the corner that was supposed to be nonreflective, everybody looking away to make the shielding work, and as the rich coffee smell released again from the warming pot, everyone gradually stopped what they were doing, coming back to life and focusing in on the miracle elixir, even Yuping under the drill press, stretching himself awake and reaching around for his glasses.

"What I don't get, Leo," Riley said, gesturing vaguely around at the lab with a coffee cup that looked like it had once been part of something's carburetor, "is why a resourceful dude like you has to come around and mooch breakfast off of my icepacks with this huge campus all around you. Isn't this a thing, this whole urban foraging crap? Don't you know international students who could hook you up with a slingshot or a fishing pole or something?"

"I tried that out for about five seconds back sophomore year," I said, poking at my sludgy nuclear poutine with one of the lab's titanium sporks, "back when I still owned a pellet gun and didn't have enough money for a meal plan, but it's just easier to come in here and see if there's leftovers than it is to run around shooting squirrels in the eye. You haven't done it, so you don't know what a pain it is to skin those things, and then you've got to ditch the skin and the head and the guts somewhere that someone won't freak out and start a satanic-panic rumor."

Riley's eyes rolled so wide it was like they were going in two different directions. "Hurf bluurg, yes, duh – but no one was asking you to kill squirrels, or even do anything remotely resembling work. Grinckles, you know what grinckles are? You throw some bread in the water, you yank a grinckle out – they're all over the goddamn place, faster than all the Chinese freshmen in CS and MechE can fill their buckets."

"I know what a grinckle is, Riley," I said, even though I didn't really, not in more than the most general sense, "but I keep hearing bad things about them, too, and there's still work you've got to do to, like, gut a fish."

Riley let out a giant snort. "Shows what you know. Equipment, Leo, equipment; you get your equipment sorted out, and there isn't shit in this world that's actual work. Throw me that grinckle, the grinckle on the counter behind you, the flopping thing in the yellow Farmfoods bag. Carolína, turn on a hot plate and find me a steel slab to put over it. Yuping, da wo dao – dadao le!" Carolína started pushing drawers full of screws around to try to find the lab hot plate; Yuping turned back over to the tool chest with a clink and a clank and a rattle of metal on metal. That left me, and a plastic bag behind me that was still faintly spasming.

"Riley…" There were little holes in the bag that were twitching, an indicator of like spines or something on the fish, and water was leaking out onto the bench. I wasn't sure where to grab the bag, or how or why I was even doing this.

"Oh for crying out loud, stop being a baby and pick up the stupid fish wherever. It's just got spikes, it's not poisonous – or, at least, it's not poisonous to anyone who's gotten jabbed by one so far." That was hell of reassuring. "Just move, it's choking in there and if it dies before I kill it it's going to go bad. Yuping, dadao!" I gave up with a shiver and randomly grabbed at the bag, nabbing a tied-off plastic handle and hucking it through the air in Riley's direction.

Riley snatched the spinning, spitting bag out of its arc like it wasn't even a thing and slammed it down on an upside-down plastic tub that I guess was going to be the cutting board for today. One quick fingertip tear later, and I could see a lopsided, vaguely reddish fish with spikes all over its fins thrashing on top of the wet plastic, and Riley turned back as Yuping handed something up: a heavy foot-long blade, like one of those leaf-pointed African bush knives made out of a truck spring or half a lawnmower.

"Like I said," Riley repeated, holding the knife up, spear point to the ceiling, "you get your right equipment, and the problem takes care of itself. Like this." One hand turned the fish, and the knife hand stabbed the point down to chop through with a single cut from the top of the skull all the way down through the belly. "One cut like that, you've got your head off if the blade's strong enough to do the spine, and you've got most of your guts out." Riley turned the knife flat and made an outward thrust along the fish's belly, pulling it up by the tail and scraping gross, stinking scraps of viscera into the shopping bag with the point. "And like that, you're gutted, you tie it off, you throw it in the trash if you don't have Asian friends who want to cook soup with the head, you're golden." Riley put the knife down for a second to ball up the head and guts and throw it over at the trash; the clump came apart in midair, but at least it all went in the trash bucket instead of the recycling. I felt bad for the janitor.

"Now that you've got your grinckle cleaned, work is about over," Riley said, lining up the tail along the bucket and working the knife in to slide it along the backbone, bumping and cracking, to the head end. "One side, two sides; fillet 'em if you're a weenie, or you can just throw them on the grill like this." There was a random steel plate on top of the hot plate's heating unit, looking like an amazing fire and burn hazard, and Riley made sure to give it a once-over with a spray of Pam, not the bottle of WD-40 that was sitting right next to it on the shelf because of course it was. "Nice and fresh, just drop it on flesh down, let the juices stay cooked in." Riley laid the fish onto the plate flesh side down, and the lab was instantly full of a horrific stench like someone was burning old sweat socks made out of potato skins.

"That is a problem with the process," Riley said, arms crossed, looking at the rest of us ducking for something to cover our noses with. "The grinckle's kind of a survival fish unless you're super into rutabagas which yeah are kind of a survival vegetable in the first place. But if you're in here mooching breakfast off a physics lab, that's a friggin survival situation, so suck it up and eat your turnip fish. It'll be done in a second." I nodded in resignation, holding my nose shut; behind Riley, Yuping was digging through the "extra sauce" bucket for probably some way to not have to taste this when Riley served it up, Pistons hat over his nose and mouth, tears in his eyes.

Riley stood still for a second, watching and listening at the slabs of fish. "All right, that's it; soup's on. Grab a plate or a binder or something, everyone gets a share." Carolína winced as Riley clicked off the hot plate and flipped the fish flanks over with the point of the knife that had just butchered them; she obviously wasn't ready to deal with rutabaga fish this early in the morning. I took a deep breath and stuck my plate out; next to Riley, Yuping pushed out a cardboard box full of grimy, half-empty sauce containers and stray packets, with a look like he was telling us to save ourselves before it was too late.

Of course, though, it completely was. Everyone got their slab of grinckle, and Yuping and Riley must have done this before, collaring a bunch of mayonnaise and Chinese barbecue sauce to drench their fish in before Carolína or I could react. I picked up a couple packets at random and a nearly-full tub of duck sauce, but stuck my spork into the fish to start with without seasoning it: this was going to be godawful, but if Riley was going to cook a grinckle for everyone in the lab, I owed it to myself to know exactly how awful this fish thing was, exactly what I was going to be letting myself in for if I took the advice and started eating these things on the regular.

It was, somehow, worse than it smelled and worse than I expected. The texture was ok – there is nothing more vile than fish that turns out to be weirdly squishy or half-rotten or full of slime or some junk – but the taste, oh my god, the taste was like if the smell climbed down your throat and reached up to scrub the back of your tongue with a toilet brush. What the hell. What the pure liquid bleeding hell – how on earth was there a fish that tasted so much like a half-rotten reject turnip that fell through the grate on a barbecue and got half covered in charcoal? I did not gag – I was proud of myself for not gagging – and looking at the faces Carolína was making even with hers slurried with so much soy sauce to turn the off-white flesh of the fish brown, I couldn't imagine that mine were that much worse. I put my plate down and started to pour the duck sauce over the fish.

"So, what do you think?" Riley was asking like this was completely normal, but Yuping was chewing slowly and carefully like he wanted to go as slow as possible and throw out the rest of his ass fish the second Riley got distracted again. "If you season it right, it's not so bad, isn't it?"

Carolína nodded, wincing. "Yes, you're right – if you season this up so much that you can't tell you're eating fish any more, it's maybe almost nearly edible." She, also, had stopped with one forkful and was looking for something else to put over the rest of the grinckle in case Riley was going to force us to stay standing up until we ate all of ours.

"Yeah, but that's it," Riley said, pointing my way with a fork. "Sure, it tastes like crap if you don't fix it up, and when you cook it or dry it it smells like someone's burning rutabagas on a pyre made of gym socks, but if you can manage to eat it and keep it down it's good, nutritious protein, full of brain oils, perfect student food. Like three people have come in here so far trying to get me to get rid of the grinckles, but I've told them all to jump in a lake – they don't know where they're coming from yet, or how they get in all these ponds that aren't connected to anything, but I don't care. This fish is everyone's stupid problems solved, man – inexplicably abundant, ceaselessly sustainable, free for anyone with a line and a bucket while the friggin board of regents is trying to come up with a way to justify sidewalk user fees. Just watch – people will get over it in a couple weeks, and then everything in the cafeterias is going to be all grinckles, all night, and the homecoming queen's gonna be crowned Miss Grinckle U. I mean, really – not everything weird on this stupid campus has to be my problem." Riley took up another sporkful of grinckle, chewing reflectively; this was probably the first second bite that anyone in the room had taken.

I leaned back, thinking too. And also not eating any more grinckle if I could help it for the moment. Riley had a point – the garbage that people who had to buy a meal plan got shoveled in the dining halls wasn't much worse than adequately-treated grinckle, and if the state was going to be a punk and not fund the university, living on abominating quantities of stinkfish was better than going that much deeper into debt. But I was between a rock and a hard place, because as good as these grinckles were in theory, I still also had to live with the smell in practice – I was living in the Muttonbird Terraces, small apartments full of grad students and international students and other poor people who were going to be cooking grinckles full time as soon as this caught on like Riley suspected it would, and that would be the same thing as living inside a diesel smokestack or a permanent fart cloud. It had probably already started – thinking about how the lab smelled right now, some of the weird smells I'd smelled around the complex were maybe partway explained. And if those kept up, and if those got worse, I was going to have to find someplace else to hang my hat, someplace that didn't stink quite so bad like burnt turnips and fish guts. Someplace that would end up being a hell of a lot more expensive.

There had to be another way – some way to make the grinckles less stinky and awful, even if we couldn't make them any less prevalent so that first-year grad students from Shandong didn't starve to death. Nobody knew where they were coming from – maybe if we did, we could cut that off, and re-establish a new population that hadn't been entirely raised on the waste of a rutabaga farm. Or maybe if that didn't work, we could hack these grinckles and make a grinckle 2.0 that tasted less like garbage on its own – the hell anyone who was living off fish pulled out of the Horse Pond would mind if they were GMO fish out of the Horse Pond. (And actually, of course, there was nothing that said the grinckles all over the place weren't GM already, so what the hell.)

"Yeah, Riley," I said at last, "you're right, and not everything weird on this campus has to be your problem, or a problem for the lab. But this is a problem for me – I've got to see if I can't do anything about how bad these fish stink, let alone taste, if it's going to be all grinckles, all the time, all over campus. I might need some help later, but for the moment I think I can handle this by myself."

Riley shrugged. "The hell I care. Just finish your fish before you go, and don't get me legally committed to anything." I picked up the plate with a shudder, carefully sliding a sporkful out along the bones. One problem at a time. Deal with this stupid grinckle, and then by the time I finished forcing myself to eat it, Wilson would be awake when I went over his: if there was one person on campus I knew who could and would help me make this fish plague less plaguey, it would be Wilson. And if I knew Wilson, he'd be ahead of me, six grinckle fillets drying on a sheet on his balcony while he PCRed out the thing's genetic profile. And yeah, going into that, eating half a grinckle side for breakfast was the perfect way of softening myself up. I took a big bite, the whole sporkful at once, and immediately regretted it – immediately regretted everything. This was awful. This was intolerable. Something had to be done about these goddamned grinckles.

Chapter 3

#nanowrimo #alifeofriley #fiction

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3one3 · 7 years ago

Text

The Sequel - 881

Lying To Yourself

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Can I read your selections now or do I have to wait until you’re not here?”

“Definitely wait. Should I do your butt too?”

“No, my butt is okay.”

“Good.” Christina concluded Juan’s back massage with a fond pat of his shoulder blade and then collapsed forward to lay on his back with her face next to his. He flipped through the collection of poems while she sat on his behind and did an amateur effort to relax some tension in his back. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Do you feel like you have a parrot on your shoulder?” she questioned, ear to ear with him.

“No, not exactly. You would be so annoying in parrot form.”

“Heeeey.”

“You would! I love you, cariña, but not as a repetitive bird on my shoulder all the time.”

“Fine.”

“When are you going to do the pictures?”

“Tomorrow,” the rider yawned. She then smooched his right cheek and did a push up with her hands on either side of him on the bed before rolling clumsily over onto her back. Juan left the book on the bench, which was really perfect for a book if one were determined to read it while lying the wrong direction in bed, on one’s stomach, and sat up on his knees.

“When are you going to Box Hill?”

“Not until the afternoon, when the kids get out of school. You should get a ride with Alvi in the morning and then you and Eden should come watch the boys after training and then we can come home together since I’ll be taking the DB9 to the barn...”

“Who says?”

“Me.”

“You have your own Aston Martin. With the same engine.”

“Yours is more luxurious.”

“Uhhuh.”

“Do you know what I haven’t done since I last saw you?”

“Eaten a deep fried egg yolk?”

“Yes,” Christina grimaced. The zepole-like fried egg was one of the most difficult courses for her to swallow, literally and figuratively, during their Sunday night dinner in Barcelona when she decided to let Juan pick all the food. “Besides that.”

“Eaten any food without vomiting or diarrhea?” He lay back down again, but on his side so that he could still see her.

“No. Stop being gross!”

“I don’t know. What?” The player gave up without much honest effort, and shrugged his left shoulder. His friend poked at his chest for no particular reason, and ran her fingertip along the inside of the trim around the collar of his t-shirt. Her eyes were on that too, until she answered. Then she blinked up toward his face.

“I haven’t had any sex. Because I was sick. And so now I’m like, suuuuuper horny. Sooooo horny, Juanin.” She turned her lip over and tried to look like the saddest, most deprived, ill-treated girl in all of London. While her face sold that idea, her right hand subtly squeezed and lifted her breast from inside her cotton tank.

“I’m supposed to feel sorry for you? Me, who only has sex with you, and never sleeps with anyone since the last time I see you?” The Spaniard cast a frank frown her way, ignoring her hand under her shirt. She persisted with the “poor me” thing for about three more seconds, and then dropped it, rolled her eyes, and returned the half-frown.

“Apparently everyone thinks you have a secret girlfriend. Are you suuuuure you’re not fucking anyone else?”

“Everyone who?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Everyone who?”

“Nat, Eden, the team.”

“You’re my secret girlfriend.”

“I’m wearing very sexy undies.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. They’re very expensive too.”

“How expensive?” Juan stole a peek in the direction of Christina’s underwear, and seeing him do so turned the corners of her mouth up in a knowing smirk. It was brief, no pun intended. She extricated her hand from her extra-long black tank top to slowly drag the fabric up and begin to reveal some of her panties. What the player could see was pale pink satin.

“Like over a hundred bucks. Want to see?” She waited for him to nod before pulling her shirt the rest of the way up to reveal the whole thing, and she kept her eyes on his face when she did so.

“Is that...a banana?” He turned his head to the side to get a better look. Her pale pink satin brief was trimmed in hot pink, and featured a hot pink and yellow half-peeled banana right in the middle, made of crystal embroidery.

“Yes,” she giggled back. “I happen to think there is something weirdly erotic about a crystal banana on my crotch. And look-“ she added, flipping over onto her stomach and her elbows. “There’s a keyhole on my butt.” Her behind wiggled around to show off the round hole in the silk, and she flipped her hair over against her part. There was a cute pink bow at the top that matched the trim, and the panties fit snugly and did wonderful things for her butt. Juan traced the seam up the middle with his fingertip, and dipped it into the hole to gently poke each butt cheek. “Do you like?”

“Show me the banana again.”

Rather than simply turning over again, the rider got up and pushed his shoulder down so that she could straddle his chest and give him a close up look at her crystal crotch fruit. The forwardness of her rearrangement surprised him at first, but then he put his hands on her thighs and pressed his thumbs into the hollow parts between muscles, very close to the pale pink panties. Christina sat up a little as she removed her shirt, giving him an even closer view, so he moved his hands low on her hips to hold her there where he could kiss her tummy when he lifted his head off the khaki comforter. Then as she settled back down, she felt his pointer push at the banana motif to see what it felt like, and to follow the outline of the whole shape. His touch was light, and teetered on the line between teasing and tickling. I want to take his shorts off and rub my banana on his banana, she thought absently. I wonder how fragile the embroidery is? If I vigorously rub it on something, will the crystals start coming out? Her friend moved his fingertip down beneath the banana, to a warmer bit of satin.

“Did you wear these all night or just put them on?” he inquired curiously.

“I just put them on. Do you feel like playing with me, or nah?”

“How do you want to play, baby girl?” A sleepy smile gave her butterflies. He’s so cuuuuuute sometimes, she said to herself in her “awww!” voice. I’m glad he’s not in some serious sexy mood, or a really romantic one. He looks as chilled as I feel. Though I also feel like...hurry up because I need this. But mostly he’s adorable. He was so handsome all night. I love how suave and put together and sophisticated and smart he can look when he goes out, and then he comes home and puts shorts and a cheeseburger t-shirt on and he’s like sweet cuddly boyfriend guy again, and if he wants, he could put on another outfit and a watch and work some product in his hair and he’d be like sexy rich charming hot guy. Christina scooted toward his waist, and bent down until her elbows were on the tops of his shoulders and she could cradle his head in her forearms, and touch his hair because she knew he liked that. Her knees stayed right next to his hips instead of sliding down so she could lie flat, instead making her arch her back in a way that felt good both in terms of stretching and in that it felt like a sexy position. The Spanish star rubbed her lower back where it was most curved, and squeezed a handful of her butt, fingertips just inside her underwear. He got a sweet, careful kiss before he got an answer.

“I want to play with all my favorite parts of your body, and make you smile at me because you’re having fun and I make you happy, and I kiiiiinda want you to spank me because I’m a naughty angel or something.” Her eyes shifted all the way to the left as part of her “eeps” face, and when they refocused on the beautiful blues under her chin, his were full of the same happiness and reflecting the same light as when they watched her hurry out of the arrivals terminal at the airport. She kissed him again.

“Do you want to know what would make me very happy?”

“Tell me.”

“If you let me read the poems.”

“Baaaaabe.” Christina sat up, slumped, and frowned. I’m practically naked and I’m sitting on his pelvis with a bedazzled banana covering part of my vagina. How can he be thinking about poetry, she whined to herself.

“I’ll let you play after. I just can’t get it off my mind now,” the Blues midfielder assured with an unworried little smile. “Let me read them- just one, at least- and then I’ll be able to focus fully on you, cariña.”

“Ugh, fine.” The rider moved from disappointed to annoyed, and crawled off of the source of irritation. She put her tank top back on too, and picked a spot by the pillows in which to sit. They were set up for reclining, and sinking into them felt nice enough to threaten her sourpuss body language. She pulled the comforter up to her chest and fixed her hair so it stayed in front of just one shoulder. Juan collected the Frank Bidart book and tucked himself into the fluffy comforter too, shoulder to shoulder with her. They argued over which one he could read. Some of them were things she just didn’t want to be present for, because she was a little bit embarrassed, or expected an ensuing atmosphere so charged that she couldn’t handle it. He wanted the freedom to choose which of her flagged pages he could read immediately, and Christina wanted to pick one for him. Her brain was going a mile a minute trying to recall every part of each one and get prepared for what might happen after he read it. The collection was in his hands, and there was nothing to stop him from doing whatever he wanted with it, short of her tackling him, successfully evading the resulting pursuit, and throwing it off the balcony into the Thames so he couldn’t just read it while she was asleep.

Her sticky note tabs were ribbon-cut and from a collection of color tones, like paint samples. She had several color families- reds and pinks, blues, greens, tans, and yellows. The blues were her favorite. There were 5 shades, or as she thought of them, one for each of her favorite eye colors. The darkest was cerulean, like her husband’s uniquely deep hue. Then there was the pretty, early morning sky blue she saw in Juan’s when he was in bright light. Next was the washed out cornflower shade her own set of eyes adopted when she wore black, the warmer, lighter powder blue that happened when she wore red, and a pale baby blue that reminded her of Lukas’ first blanket. The gift recipient chose to read the poem marked by the darkest tab, based on his guess that it was her favorite of the colors.

“Queer,” he read, a slight pinching together of his eyebrows showing his apparent confusion, or that he was taken aback. Christina’s eyes- in that grayish color thanks to her black shirt- grew large with panic as she remembered what he was about to read, and she rushed to issue pretenses and qualifiers.

“That one- Only the first stanza is relevant. Some of them are like that. I just like a few lines, or one section. The writer is gay so that one is about that, but the first part is-“

“Lie to yourself about this and you will/forever lie about everything.” Her friend paused, lips pulled between his teeth, and didn’t look up from the page. She watched his profile. Please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m really not trying to start anything. I’m really not. I’m not trying to say anything at all. It’s just...really true. And he said it first. “Everybody already knows everything/so you can/lie to them. That’s what they want./But lie to yourself, what you will/lose is yourself. Then you/turn into them.” He felt the page next to the words. The paper wasn’t remarkable. It wasn’t a special volume deserving of heavy paper or expensive binding. It was just a simple paperback. The words were not simple. Christina felt the need to explain them, in case he somehow missed their significance.

“You said that night on the beach in France that your worst sin was lying to yourself, and then in the hotel you said you lied to yourself about your interest in me, and-“

“I remember. I didn’t know you remember.”

“How could I forget?” She shook her head and squinted at him, though he still wasn’t looking up from the book. “”So I lied to myself about how I felt and what I wanted, and I’ve paid for it ever since.” That’s what you said. That’s why we slept together for the first time that night. That’s how I knew like the poem says that everything from the beginning was a lie- Sam, Lex, you trying to tell me you just had a physical crush on me, you just being the best damn friend a girl could have, Italian cookies, late night drives, the smiles- all of it, lies. That was how I knew you really loved me and everything I knew before couldn’t contradict it anymore because it was all lies. Taylor, a lie. Coming back to Chelsea, a lie. Now you’re lying every day to everyone else, instead of yourself. Now that we have this relationship, you’re lying when you hide it, but you’re honest to yourself about it, and I can physically see how much happier you are. I see the work you do now, on the pitch, with the charity, things just for you. Like we told Sid, right? Mind has to be clear to let your great instincts come through. You even just said it now. You needed the book off your mind before we could-“ The Spaniard butted into the evening’s second bout of rambling, insecure verbal diarrhea.

“I love you,” he declared on his way to holding the left side of her face and landing a savoring kiss on her very busy lips.

“I was doing it too,” Christina whispered back afterward. “Everything from the day we broke up until...I don’t know...some time at the end of last winter. Everything was a lie. I’m so glad we don’t have to lie to ourselves anymore, Juanin.” Except I might still be doing it, she admitted unhappily, in silence, where it could remain a lie. I might still be lying about who I want to be with. I just don’t know if I am or not. Maybe it’s not a lie if I acknowledge that I don’t know.

“Me too,” Juan smiled back- casual, calm, largely unaffected from the looks of it. His thumb stroked back and forth at her cheek for a moment and then he let go and looked back at the book. “I don’t know this guy but I’m looking forward to reading more of these. Thank you, cariña.”

“Welcome.”

“Can I do another?”

“No!”

“All right. You can use me for your plaything now.”

“You’re such a romantic.”

“I’m actually just tired,” the footballer yawned. “The first guys were back from their national teams today so we had full training, first time in about 10 days.”

“Do you want to go to sleep?”

“No.”

“Sure?”

“Yes. Come here. Sit here.” He pushed the comforter down to make a space on his thighs, and Christina quickly occupied it. She flung her shirt off again, and he squeezed her upper body tight to his, and kissed her neck. That went on for a couple of minutes, and she realized she didn’t really still feel like treating him like a playground either. Sharing the poem changed her mood, and being squeezed and kissed was nice. It was calm, and relaxing, and good. The desire to devour him, and let him “get back” at her for it with a casual smack of her ass, or bite at her shoulder, just kind of faded out. Instead, she felt like staying in his lap and making out for a while, and then maybe making love the same way- him sitting up, and her on top, his arms around her body and her arms around his neck. The slow and considered way he kissed her back made her think he’d be fine with that plan too. At no point during their time together that night did he seem interested in being totally ravaged.

“I’m getting up now,” she announced following a last smooch at the middle of his mouth.

“Why?”

“So you can take off your shorts and undies, and so I can take off my banana briefs. I actually have no idea how to wash satin panties with crystal embroidery, and I know I’ll have to if I wear them much longer.” The rider winked and got up to do what she said. Juan yawned and rubbed his face. “Babe.” Hers tilted sympathetically to the right. Sleepyhead. “You’re about to fall asleep.”

“I’m fine!”

“Let’s just go to bed. I’m not going anywhere for another day and a half. We can do this tomorrow.”

“You wanted to-“

“I want to be close to you. You’re a good place to be these days.” She picked different underwear from her backpack, put her tank top on for the third time, and was then welcomed into a kind of spooning bear hug, where her legs were pushed up, and one of her hands was held hostage. Someone very obviously wanted her to be close to him as well.

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