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wandering-feather · 1 year ago

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Jealous Morticia

Larissa Weems x Fem Reader. Mentions of past Larissa and Morticia.

Morticia doesn’t like Larissa’s wife and she has no issue with letting her wife know how she feels.

Morticia is bitch in this even though like her.

Warnings: smut, scissoring, fingering, Morticia being a bitch. Angst, hurt/comfort. Some fluff.

Also I’m working with a beta and hopefully get my work cleaned up.

***

You sat in your classroom waiting for your last parent to show up. You look at the name: Morticia Adams and you frown. That’s all you needed, your wife’s ex to be alone in a room with you. You thought about quickly calling Larissa to come, but you didn’t want her to deal with Morticia’s insults. Larissa had told you about her and Morticia's relationship.

You could hear the noise of someone's heels heading towards your door. You took a deep breath and watched Morticia basically float into the room. You took a few moments to catch your surroundings and stood up.

“Mrs Addams, I’m glad you made it. I was wondering if something might have happened,“ you said smiling at her. She didn’t return the smile and you took a step back.

“Sorry, Gomez and I got carried away,” she said and you grimaced.

“Well Wednesday is a wonderful student. I mean she has many pranks but she's so ....”

Mortica looks at you with a smirk interrupting you, “Mrs Weems I’m not here to talk about my daughter. I of course know how great she is. I want to know what’s your plans with Larissa”

Your face turned into shock. How could she have the nerve to talk to you about your relationship with your wife? “Mrs Addams I really feel that is none of your business.”

Mortica scowled and shook her head, “she’s my friend and I care for her. And with the last normie who almost killed my daughter and even Larissa I will take no chances.”

You took a deep breath.” I have no intention to hurt the students. I also would never do anything wrong to Larissa. She is the love of my life.”

“Well Larissa is about working the relationships between normies and outcast I guess marrying a normie would help that out”

You had enough. You go to grab your papers shoving them and your computer into your bag

“Larissa had the hugest crush on me in school, sometimes I would give into her desires” you stop and look at her shaking your head.

“Larissa and I have no secrets. Mrs Addams in the future when we need to discuss anything about Wednesday that is all I will be discussing. I would also rather not be alone with you.”

You could hear a noise at the door and was about to say something when you saw Wednesday standing there.

You had no idea how long she was standing there. Mortica walked over to her daughter who would not let touch her. You grab your bag heading for the door addressing Wednesday.

“Wednesday if you do need anything please don’t hesitate to ask.”

You walk out of the room and can hear Wednesday yelling at her mother but you drowned it out.

The tears began to fall. You quickly headed to your quarters you shared with Larissa. You used the side door so you didn’t have to go through Larissa’s office and let her see how upset you were.

Stepping into the shared room you quickly undressed. You felt so useless. What if Mortica was right? What if you were just part of a game? You grabbed a pair of sweats and a tank top putting it on. You looked at yourself in the mirror. There is no one as beautiful as Larissa. What does she even see in you? After all these years of working on loving yourself that woman tore it all down. You washed your face putting your hair into a messy bun. You walked into bed and did not care how early it was. That’s when the sobs began and you hugged yourself as you cried to sleep.

•••

Wednesday had been standing at the door to your class loitering and she moved out of the way to let you through. When she saw you were out of her sight she stepped in the room and looked at her mom who had a smug look on her face.

“Was that even a necessary mother? You were “roommates” many years ago. Principal Weems has moved on and I can’t even look at you right now.” She stormed out of the room with a determined look. She needed to head to Principles Weems office and let her know what her mother did. She smiled lightly hoping Weems would knock her out

Wednesday didn’t even bother to knock on the door and barged in Larissa’s office.

“Principal Weems, we have a problem.” She looked over to see two people who must be parents looking at her while Principle Weems looked like she could kill.

“Ms. Addams, I'm a little busy right now. We can discuss this later.”

“Mrs Weems had a meeting with my mother who said some nasty things.”

Larissa stood up, “if you could please excuse me and we will need to reschedule I have some things to attend to.”

She walked them towards the door and shut the door and looked at Wednesday.

“What happened?” She asked.

“Well they didn’t know I was standing there at first but she asked what her intentions were with you. That the last normie who worked here almost got me and you killed. Oh and you had a huge crush on her and she would sometimes give into your desires. Oh and you married her for normie and outcast relationships.” Wednesday said bluntly.

Larissa’s face showed so much rage it made Wednesday scared but just a little. She took some deep breaths. She was going to kill Morticia.

“Where is Morticia right now?” She asked.

“I’m not sure I ran off after I told her off. But Mrs Weems seemed to be headed towards this area.”

“Thank you Wednesday you can be excused and don’t repeat this even to Enid.” She said as Wednesday left her office.

Larissa is hoping you are in your shared quarters. She walks towards the door that connects her office to the quarters.

Larissa opened the door and walked towards your room stepping inside. She could tell you were buried under the covers. She quickly took her shoes off and jacket laying it over the chair. Walking to your side of the bed she pulls the blanket down slightly and her heart breaks. Your face was puffy from crying and you were holding her pillow.

She took a piece of your hair that fell out of your bun and tucked it behind your ear. You began to stir and your eyes fluttered open to see Larissa standing above you and you smiled the best you could. You didn’t want her to know what happened. You sat up and leaned in for a kiss which she gladly returned.

“How was your day? Any parents drive you insane?” You ask and you could have sworn you saw a flash of anger in her eyes.

“It wasn’t that bad. How were your meetings?” Of course she already knew but she didn’t want to pressure you.

You sighed and began to pick at the comforter. “It went well. Well until my last meeting with Mortica Addams who had no desire to talk about her daughter. But she has plenty to say about our relationship.” You looked away from her ashamed that you let her get to you like this.

Larissa places her hand on your cheek and gently directs you to look at her. “Wednesday came to see me about it. She heard everything. And none of it’s true.”

You looked into her eyes and knew she was telling you the truth. You smile and nod letting her know you were doing better. She stood up and you whined at the loss of contact. Larissa reached her hand out for yours.

“Let’s take a shower and just wash this horrible day away.”

You smiled and took her hand as she led you to the bathroom. Once inside she turned the water on and then began to undress you and smiles at you. “You’re so beautiful darling. I love you so much.” She kisses your lips.

You reach behind her to unzip her dress and let fall to pool at her feet. “And so are you Larissa.” You finished undressing each other and Larissa helped you in the shower. You both just stood under the water feeling it running against your skin. You began to kiss and run your hands all over each other. Next Larissa cleaned you with your favorite soap and turning around you did the same thing for her. Once the water turned cold you and Larissa stepped out and you both wrapped yourself in towels. You pull your hair down and look in the mirror. It was a mess.

Larissa laughs lightly, “here let me help you brush your hair.” She picks up the brush and lightly brushes it out getting all the tangles out. “See all better now.” She smiles, running her fingers through your soft locks.

“My turn.” You said as Larissa looked at you confused. You reached up and began removing the pins from her hair. Her hair fell down her back and you ran your fingers through it.

“I love it when you take my hair down.” She smiles and kisses your lips.

She heads to the bedroom sitting down and putting lotion on her legs. When you stepped out of the bathroom and almost fainted at the sight of your wife rubbing her legs. She catches your eyes and smirks. You turn around to grab your face cream when you feel a towel land on your head. You pulled it off and turned to see Larissa sitting up on the bed with her legs spread apart. You smile and drop your own towel and climb in bed crawling up to in between her legs. But before you could latch your mouth to her sweet spot she gently grabs you by the shoulders pulling you up. You give her a confusing look as she turns you around setting you between her legs.

“Larissa, what are you doing? I thought you wanted to make love?”

Larissa smiled and spread your legs. “That's exactly what we are doing. I'm going to make love to you.”

You smile as you feel your wife’s hands travel down your chest and stomach. You could feel yourself getting wetter in anticipation. You moan at the feeling of her fingers along your folds. “Oh god Larissa that feels so good please I need you inside me.”

Larissa wasted no time and she slid two fingers inside you while kissing on your shoulders.

“Oh God Larissa that…. feels amazing please faster.” You cried out. She again complied with your request and your loud moans began to fill the room.

“I love you so much darling.” She said marking your shoulder. You let your head fall back.

A thought crossed your mind. You wanted to feel her when you came. You grabbed her wrist and pulled it letting her fingers slide out of you. You took her fingers and sucked all your juices off. You turned around and looked at Larissa seeing her confused expression, maybe even a little hurt.

“Don’t worry Larissa, we are not done yet. I want to be as close to you as possible when we finish.” You took one of your legs and tucked it under one of hers and you then placed your other leg over hers. You smile up at her biting your lip. You can see that it registered on Larissa’s face what you wanted. She placed her hand on your waist and pulled you towards her. When your cores touch you both moan loudly. You raise up to kiss her lips passionately as you begin to work your hips against each other. Your hands were in Larissa’s hair. Larissa kept one hand on your hip to steady you and her arm was wrapped around your waist to hold you up.

“I love darling, you're so beautiful.” She began to kiss on your face “you’re my life and I will never let anything happen to you.” She cried out when you hit the right spot.

“Larissa cum for me. I want to feel you writhing” Larissa began to grind harder and before you knew it you felt your coil snap and your body shook all over as you came. You wrapped your arm around her neck letting your head fall back. You screamed “oh god yes Larissa.”

Larissa smiled and knew herself was about to become undone. She grinds against you and then she feels the warmth spread from her stomach to all over her body. “Oh darling oh that feels amazing” she began to kiss your face. “I love you so much”

You smiled up at her with droopy eyes and ran your hands through her hair.

“I love you too Larissa.” You yawned you were always tired after love making

Larissa rolled you over to your side of the bed and wrapped her arms around you from behind.

“I love you too sleep darling tomorrow parents are leaving and we can have peace.”

You hummed at her response as sleep took over.

***

A couple of hours later Larissa was awakened by a knock at her office door. Looking at the clock she frowned. It was 1am who could that be. Checking to make sure you were still asleep she crawls out of bed and grabs her robe tying it as she walks into her office. She opens the door to find Morticia standing there.

“Morticia it’s 1 in the morning. My wife is sleeping.” Larissa said annoyed.

Morticia scoffed at that, “yeah your wife she’s something” she sat in a chair.

Larissa knew Morticia’s insults could be harsh and was becoming annoyed.

“Morticia if your are here to insult my wife more, you can just leave.” Larissa puts some distance between the two.

“I see she came running to you about our meeting.”

“No it was your daughter.” Larissa couldn't help smiling at Morticia’s surprised face.

“Larissa, is it true? Everyone knows how you want better relations between outcasts and normies. Is that why you married her?”

Larissa found herself shaking from rage. “You will not speak about my wife like that ever again. Why do you even hate her?” Larissa wanted to slap her.

Morticia’s face dropped and she looked at Larissa, “Wednesday doesn’t like anyone and all I hear is Mrs Weems is my favorite teacher. She listens to me. My own daughter would rather spend time with her teacher than her own mother.”

Larissa felt bad for her but she could not excuse the way she treated her wife. “Morticia going about and doing what you’re doing is not going to help the situation. I don’t want you around my wife. I think you should leave tonight”

Morticia nodded and stood up. She stopped like she was going to say something but decided against it and left the room. Larissa locked the door and headed back to your bed. Of course you were still asleep. Which she was thankful she didn’t want you in the same room as Morticia. She removed her robe climbing in bed and wrapped her arms around you. She would be damned if Mortica or anyone hurt you.

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #wednesday #larissa weems fanfic #gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse

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ezzhix · 2 years ago

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and then they were roomma- boyfriends? husbands?

who tf are you

#vincent the secret of myers #therapy with dr albert krueger #victor blake #vincent edgeworth #albert krueger #blakeworth #maybe kruecent idk??#vtsom #twdak #dinoverse

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fottitimioamore · 2 years ago

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Okay, I saw a similar scenario on ao3, and after reading it I was like, "ok but what if it was with this instead". So I wrote it. I'm not super sure on the 2nd and 3rd part, but the 1st and 4th are alright. Personally, why only let him watch??

I'm tempted to write a fic where we get to absolutely destroy Ghost, soo 🤷‍♀️

..................................................................................

♡ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

♡ Warnings: Smut (minors just don't get me in trouble plz)

♡ Relationship: Romantic

♡ Summary: Three times taskforce 141 nearly caught you and Ghost in the act, and the one time they did.

♧ Reader's callsign is Wish ♧

..................................................................................

Relationships in the military could be difficult. With your partner constantly away from home, it could get lonely being apart for so long. But you couldn't say being with your partner was much easier. Especially when no one knew about your relationship.

You and Ghost had both agreed that keeping the two of you a secret from the rest of 141 was the easiest path to take. You loved the boys, really, but the less who knew about you, the better. Intimate ties were a dangerous thing to have in your line of work. Neither of you were willing to take the risk of targets on your back in order to get to the other.

Though, at the moment, you were hesitant to say that working on the taskforce together was such a great idea. Now, trapped between Ghost and a wall, with someone fiddling with the lock of the closet door beside you.

You had been paired up in rooms on the base, Ghost stuck with Soap and you, Gaz. You were going on three weeks now, barely able to get away long enough to take care of yourself in the shower.

So, when Ghost had pulled you into the closet stocked with cleaning supplies for a quicky, something he rarely did, you didn't complain. Maybe you should have, though; seen through the fog that clouded your mind and been aware of the risk that came with it. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Neither of you had anything you were assigned to.

You had, however, promised Gaz you would help him clean, something that didn't register when you were crowded into this specific room.

So now you were facing the consequences of your actions. Well, you were about to. That old lock barely held, and though it was keeping the door shut now, it wouldn't for much longer. As was Ghost, mask pushed up just past his nose, one hand pulling your hips against his own while his other forearm braced against the wall next to your head. He was panting heavily, beads of sweat running down his jaw and neck. The room was hot and stuffy, with little space for him to maneuver. He had halted for a moment, barely able to restrain himself from bucking into you like he'd been doing earlier.

You weren't fairing much better. Wrapped around his neck and waist, head against the wall as you tried to breathe as quietly as possible. It wasn't possible at all, really. You felt full; him buried to the hilt inside of you so your bodies met. But full wasn't enough. You needed friction. You needed him to move again. Your walls fluttered around him, to which he choked on a groan, head falling forward to rest on your shoulder.

You felt him shift, arm on the wall coming down to grasp your waist. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pulled out of your wet heat. You could feel every vein along his length drag against your walls. Ghost quickly silenced you with a hand over your mouth after the stimulation had you gasping. The door handle stopped jiggling for a moment, as did your heart. The person behind it growled, fiddling with what sounded like a key ring.

"Why the bloody hell won't it open?" Gaz huffed, trying another key. You sobered up quickly, pushing on Ghost's shoulders gently. Some random rookie was one thing, but your partner and current roommate was another. Ghost ignored your protest, pulling your attention away by dropping his hand only to loop under your knee and replace it again before pushing his hips back into yours.

His palm muffled what you couldn't of your moan, your own pelvis bucking forward to take more of him. His hand still on your waist pressed it down, allowing you nothing but what he gave you. He pressed in until his tip kissed your limit, making you squirm.

He continued this torturous pace through another key, apparently unbothered by the attempts to enter. His mouth traced marks along your collarbone and up the hollow of your throat. At this point, you would rather be discovered than suffer through this pace any longer. Your prayers were answered, however, when you heard another voice call out from down the hall.

"Gaz, come here and help me with this." Price would never know how he saved you just then.

"You sure? You asked me to clean-"

"Don't worry, I'll make Wish help you out when they show up." Did he know? No, there was no way. There was no one around when you'd snuck off. You had little time to think it over, though. Gaz yanked the key from the lock, and after a moment, you heard his footsteps retreating away from the door.

Once he was far enough, you heard Ghost chuckle, low and deep. His hand over your face slid around to your jaw, pulling his head up from your shoulder to meet your gaze. His eyes burned into yours as he bent down and kissed you with enough passion to make up for the teasing he put you through. Without breaking the kiss, he dropped both hands to your thighs and pushed your legs up against your chest. You really had to thank Price for that interruption. It gave you a few more minutes for Ghost to pound out and into you.

..................................................................................

Perhaps you learned from your little closet escapade. For next time, you were a little more careful. You'd just gotten back from a long night at the bar, celebrating a long, stressful, yet successful mission. Everyone was at least tipsy by the end of the night. At most, someone (*cough*soap*cough*), had gotten so wasted they passed out, woke up, drank some more, and passed out again. Even Ghost let loose and downed a few glasses. You'd tried to lead him around to the alleyway halfway through the night, but the other men kept you guys close.

Luckily, Price and Gaz hauling that someone back to their room gave you and Ghost a window to slip away to yours unseen. Gaz had volunteered to stay with Soap in case he woke up sick (again), giving way to a long and restless night. Though not in a bad way.

If you had the time, you would've stayed asleep beside him until far into the morning, recuperating from your late night activities. But you didn't. Hungover as they were, the rest of the team would be up early as usual. So you two were up even earlier, savoring the last scraps of time you had together.

You were still half asleep, Ghost's calloused hands guiding your hips along his own in slow, languid movements. Your hands rested limply on his stomach, muscles rippling whenever he rolled up into you. His head propped up by a folded pillow, he watched your expression twist in pleasure when you moved just right.

Your hands moved behind you, supporting your upper half on his thighs. He lifted you up off him, angling your hips as you sank back down to drag a drawn-out moan from your throat. Your eyes rolled back into your head as it fell between your shoulders.

"Fuuuck, just like that, love. Keep makin' those pretty sounds for me, yeah?" he drawled. His voice alone made you clench around him, feeling the dull stretch the position provided. The sensation pulled a groan of his own from below you, pushing his hips up into yours. You were enraptured by the feeling of him. His body between your thighs, hands on your waist, cock stuffed in your hole.

So enraptured that you could very well have missed the soft jingle of the doorknob. Did you lose track of time? You swore you were up early enough to stay for a few hours. When the door didn't open, thank god you were coherent enough to lock it last night, there was a knock.

You lifted your head just enough to meet Ghost's eyes, which were half-lidded and fixed on you. His gaze flicked to the door for a moment, though otherwise he didn't look to be anything but slightly irked at the situation. After a second of no response, another knock, this one louder.

"Wish? You up yet?" It was Soap, sounding exceptionally miserable at the moment. People on this base really had a tendency to interrupt things. This time, though, you were at less of a risk of being caught. "Captain says we gotta meeting before we leave. I'd be out before he comes around himself." Ghost let up this time, settling you as far down as you could be. You cast him a half-hearted glare, which the corner of his mouth pulled up at.

"Y-yeah, getting changed now. I'll be right out." You're astonished at how smooth your voice sounded, trying to focus on anything but the burn in your abdomen. Ghost was having fun. You knew when he had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. He enjoyed watching you struggle to remain in control of yourself.

Soap took your excuse, not wanting to be intrusive, and you heard him groan before he continued down the hall. Ghost sat up, grunting at the new position. You cupped his face, pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. You lifted yourself off his lap, whining at the emptiness. He hummed in displeasure, but didn't resist when you moved away. You both knew not to fuck around with Price. You threw on enough clothes to be presentable, tossing Ghost his own scattered around the room.

You were still uncomfortably slick, feeling none of the impending orgasm you had before. When you turned back to Ghost, he had his mask on again, along with his other clothes, but his eyes alone shone with hunger. He hadn't been very satisfied himself. You started an apology, but he shushed you, taking your hand and pressing a kiss, as well as a small object into it.

"I'm sorry, doll. I promise I'll make you feel good, alright?" By the time you'd processed what he'd given you, he was already off down the hall.

..................................................................................

The vibrator, which you did not know why Ghost had on him, came in a velvety bag that was still tied shut. It was new. The little shit had something planned. But you trusted him. He wouldn't do anything too risky.

That's why you were sitting in the conference room with that vibrator laying still deep inside you.

You sat on the far end of the table, next to Soap, who had his head down on the table since he sat down. You figured his hangover was hitting the hardest. There were a few others you didn't recognize that took up spots at the other end. Gaz sat across from you, taking notice of your flushed features. You'd not had much time to freshen up before being called down. When he pointed it out, you just shook your head.

"Just warm, haven't been feeling great since last night." Gaz laughed.

"Neither has Soap," he reached over to smack the table next to the fellow Sargeant, who hardly reacted. You fell silent as Ghost joined you at the table, looking slightly more put together than he had earlier. You glanced over at him, locking eyes for just a moment. Intense as ever, they burned into you like a predator's to their prey.

Before you could melt from the heat of his stare, Price walked in with Laswell tagging along behind. He greeted you all with a brief nod, which many returned, before going on with the meeting. It was mostly review, the outcome of the successful mission, and what would come next. The only thing you really heard was that no action would be taken for a few weeks.

About halfway through, the vibrator sparked to life. It startled you, you'd nearly forgotten about it. You flinched, leaning forward on the table with a squeak and catching the attention of the man beside you.

"You alright?" Soap whispered, having straightened up to seem like he was paying attention to Laswell as she spoke. You nodded, almost too quickly. He was hesitant to turn away, but eventually gave up in trying to search your face and shifted to face the screen.

You snuck a glance at Ghost, pressing your thighs together to gain some release from the sensations. He was still looking ahead, resting one arm on the table with the other under it; in his pocket, no doubt. A casual position, earning no one's suspicion but your own. You knew better.

The vibrations ended for the time being, thank god. You worked yourself down from the impending orgasm you'd felt, risking another peak at the culprit. Ghost didn't look like he was paying attention, but you knew he was watching you in his peripheral. As soon as you started to adjust to the feeling again, he lost interest in the captain and ultimately turned the vibrator on again. This time, the intensity increased tenfold.

You bit down on your lip, nearly to the point of breaking the plush skin. The bullet was strong for its size, and you had to press your hands to your legs to ground yourself and resist bucking into air. One elbow braced on the table, covering your mouth with your hand.

You had no idea how no one else couldn't hear the toy at this point. It brutally stimulated every sensitive area, leaving your brain foggy and eyes unfocused. It felt so good, and knowing that Ghost was observing you made the heat in your belly flare. But it wasn't enough. The bullet was so small you could barely feel the toy itself. It couldn't satisfy you as Ghost's cock did. With each passing second, your release crept closer, until you could barely resist moving your hips to gain more friction.

When your orgasm hit, your mind went blank. Your head tipped forward, barely supported by your hand and your spine arched just enough to create some friction on the seat of your chair. But the vibrations didn't stop there. They continued at the same pace, pushing you into overstimulation. You didn't know how much longer you could hold out like this.

When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you nearly jumped out of your skin. So focused on acting like everything was normal, you didn't notice Price leaving Laswell to her part and coming up behind you.

"Why don't you go take a minute? Wrapping this up anyway." He murmured, and you had never been more thankful for him in your entire life. You nodded, slowly, and as he stepped back, you got up and made your way out the door.

The rest of 141 cast questioning looks in your direction, but you paid them no mind. The audacity Ghost had to act so innocent was unbelievable. Once you were in the clear in the empty bathroom, you allowed yourself to double over the sink, mouth gaping in a silent scream. You glimpsed your reflection in the mirror, flushed and disheveled. Hopefully, the team chalked it up to your claimed sickness.

You didn't know what you were more mad about, forcing you through an orgasm in the middle of a meeting, or turning the vibrator off just before you reached your second one. You'd been so close, the coil in your belly wound tight, ready to snap at any moment. But with how intense your first climax was, your hand just wasn't enough. So you were left annoyed and unsatisfied.

You rinsed your face in cool water and wiped away as much slick as you could before leaving. You'd taken the vibrator out, just in case Ghost got any ideas, but he was gone from the room when you passed. So much for trusting him with that privilege.

..................................................................................

The one time they did.

You couldn't have been more relieved when you got back to your base. There wasn't anything to be done except rest and recuperate. So when the sun set, tugging everyone one by one into their rooms, you naturally went straight to where you knew Ghost was working in the locker room. He was the only one there, finishing up with his gear before retiring for the night. When you came in, he had just been ready to leave. Of course, he wouldn't pass up the opportunity you hadn't had for quite a while.

So the next thing you knew, you were kneeling on one of the small tables beside the lockers with Ghost hovering over your bare shoulder. He held you to his chest with an arm around your waist, supporting you both with his other on the table as he thrust forward into you. You pressed your lips together, trying to keep quiet as to not draw any wandering soldiers to you.

Ghost was never really very loud during sex (except for when he let you take the reins and ruin him, but those times were few and far between). The most you got now were low groans and grunts. Still, his gruff voice in your ear pushed you closer to the edge with every sound. He growled whenever you let a particularly loud noise slip.

"Quiet, sweetheart. You don't want anyone hearin' your pretty sounds and come looking, do you?" You whimpered, clenching around him at the thought. He chuckled. "Oh-ho, you like that, huh? You want them to see you like this, to see me fuckin' your tight little cunt." He emphasized his words with harsh thrusts, making you lean heavy on his hand with a gasp. Without his support, you would surely fall forward onto the table. You tugged on the fabric of his sleeve, shaking your head.

"No? Is that so?" He asked in mocking disbelief, shifting his weight and using his right hand to grab your jaw, forcing your wavering gaze up to him. He was still fully clothed, only his eyes, fervid and piercing, bore into yours.

Your clothes, on the other hand, had been torn off in a haste, leaving you completely bare in the empty storage room. Not even Ghost could shield you from anyone who entered, facing towards the only door. "Then I suggest you keep it down."

You could hardly stand the eye contact, your lids falling shut with a whine. He made a sound of disapproval, but didn't ask anything of you. He kept your head in his hand, letting it rest lower, still watching your expression closely. The feeling of his gaze on you made your knees weak, but luckily, it didn't last long.

Or, maybe it wasn't so lucky.

"Hey L.T. do y-" Soap stopped as soon as he realized what he walked in on. You hadn't even heard him coming until he was standing in the doorway, looking on in dismay. Ghost didn't halt his movements, locking eyes with the Sargeant. He pulled your head up from where you were looking as far away as possible, compelling you to look directly at your fellow teammate.

Said teammate was frozen in place, hesitant to move from Ghost's imposing glare. You saw his attention flick down to you, and you tugged on Ghost again, trying to tear your face away. Of course, he refused to allow you that mercy.

"Now, look what you've done. If you didn't want Johnny to see you here, you would've stayed quiet." You shook your head again. His level voice shot straight to your core, unable to resist as he dropped his hand to your chest, lowering your top to the table with care that rivaled the way he pounded into you.

You were grateful that you no longer had to look at Soap, but the new position didn't make things much better. It allowed Ghost to rub against new areas inside of you, making you squeak against the cool surface below you.

Ghost held you down at the base of your skull, hardly slowing his pace as he stared your teammate down again. Soap finally had the decency to act embarrassed, turning his head away and stuttering out an excuse. He gave up quickly, opting to just shut the door and leave you two to your sexcapades.

Ghost huffed out a laugh, and you knew he was smiling under his mask when he leaned over you, free hand sliding up and down your back before settling on your hip.

Soap better had better keep his mouth shut, else you get the lecture of a lifetime from Price.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader

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askholycouncillor · 1 year ago

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You- are you inviting me to live in Lust of all places? With you if I am interpreting this right?

What an inane proposition.

I wouldn't be surprised because like every other resident of hell seems to be gay in some aspect

nothing to do with your actions

That is an intriguing take. I do suppose I am technically a resident of Hell, considering I have lived in Wrath for days on end now.

I would like to move somewhere more comfortable soon.

#ooc// and they were roomma-

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badassitron · 2 months ago

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"Did thee know of ser D-16 and Orion being roommates?" and they were roomma-

“Whoa! They’re roommates? That explains how they knew each other and why they came in together and- I dunno, why they just seemed really comfortable together. Even when they were mad at each other. Rooming with someone teaches you a lot about them! Like, Steve? The guy talks in his sleep. Over and over and over! Never really sounded like words until Orion knocked his head off. I do the same thing! You know what they say, bolts we discern are sorted in turn!”

#shiningsilverarmor #v;;beforethefall

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hextina · 1 year ago

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and they were roomma- uncle and nephew

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living-for-fiction · 2 years ago

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So my friend D, who has been homeless on-and-off for years, who does survival sex to keep a roof over his head, who is HIV positive and doesn't keep up with his fucking meds (istg I'm going to wring his neck) and who has gotten into hard drugs (meaning meth and heroin) is missing. Again. Last time I talked to him he swore he wasn't using, but the last time he told me he wasn't doing drugs was right after he started meth, and he's a shit liar anyway. I know he was doing drugs again. Last time I talked to him he said he had some stuff lined up with psychiatric help that he desperately needs and he was planning to stay out where he is because they have better services than our state (which I kind of doubt, but I'm not using state services so I could be entirely wrong) but that things were getting better. That was back in May. I've messaged him a few times since - calling isn't an option, since he doesn't always have a phone and he can't pay to keep the same number when he can get a phone. And according to his brother, he sold his phone.

His brother, who messaged my brother-in-law to see if we knew ANYTHING about where he might be and what's going on. My family and I do not have a good relationship with D's brother. He's a piece of shit, honestly. He beat the shit out of D when he found out D got into hard drugs despite the fact that he himself deals them. He treated D like trash when he came out. He's got a bunch of other issues that I'm not getting into because it is very much not my white ass's place to unpack his weird internalized racism... anyway, point is, dude sucks and we don't talk to him, my sister and bro-in-law only keep him around as a Facebook friend so that if something happens to D, we'll know because he'll post about it. Except now he's messaging US to see if we know anything about where D is or what's going on.

I just... fuck. At this point I'm used to not being able to get him on the phone. I'm used to sporadic contact that mostly turns into "I'm not dead." But every time it reaches this point, I do wonder if he's dead. If he OD'd, or went home with the wrong guy, or managed to get a car and thought he'd be able to turn his life around because now he could get a job, only to crash the damn thing.

There's not really anything I can do. He's an adult, he chose to go halfway across the country for some reason I don't remember, he's said he's getting help and I hope he is. But knowing what's happened before when he's dropped off the face of the earth and moved several states away with no warning, I'm very concerned for him.

If I didn't have a roommate, if I didn't need to keep having a roommate to afford my damn condo, I'd tell D to just shut the fuck up and move in with me next time I heard from him. A part of me hates that I didn't do that already. I let him crash with me for 3 weeks when he was homeless, unfortunately couldn't let him stay any longer due to rental agreement bullshit, but just...

I can't afford my home without a roommate, or I'd have offered my other room to D, I think. I can't have drugs in my home though, is the only other thing. And I don't believe him when he tells me he's clean. He's a shit liar.

I just really hope he isn't dead, that's all. I just want to hear back from him. And if he needs a place to crash for a few days I'd be happy to offer my couch, I think my roommate would be ok with that.

Most of my friends have done the upward spiral of moving up in the world. My brother-in-law got his massage therapy certification, my sister got her master's degree, other friends have gotten degrees and certifications and moved forward in life. I have too. I've been moving up in my career, in my kinda, getting experience and stuff, doing the adult thing. Buying the condo when my landlord offered to sell it to me. Very privileged to be able to do that even if I need a roommate to make the mortgage.

D hasn't been able to do that.

If I just had the means to fucking fully support myself without a roommate, I could have put D up here. I should have put D up here. I should have told him he could move in with me, everything else be damned.

I swear if we find him again, I want to be more of a resource for him. Let him stay with me for a few days, a week, I don't care. Help him find a fucking support system.

I feel helpless right now.

#personal #friends #d-bag

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lilibetbombshell · 2 months ago

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secretkindoflove · 3 years ago

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40 years ago, Neil and Chris meet by chance in an electronics shop on the Kings Road

so I made this playlist to celebrate these 40 years full of music!! Hope you enjoy it :)

#pet shop boys #neil tennant #chris lowe #40 years ago #😢 not me tearing up with the fact that they were roomma-#good friends :)

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atlafan · 4 years ago

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Oh my goodness I passed out at 10:30pm and missed this! I’m here and ready for it, let’s go! Jeremy be like damn this Harry guy is perfect... I bet he fucks some shit up! “Hope you left my girl satisfied” I’m screaming! Chelsea boots and sweaters!! “Dontcha wanna live with me baby?” Please and thank you! Yes dance minor and yes Only Fans!! “Something sort of sexy about someone looking so innocent” it’s me! Damn Niall get it! And Harry being jealous that y/n doesn’t go to him for help!! Part 2!

Part 2 tbh I wouldn’t mind watching bad porn with Harry AND having a discussion about what we like in the bedroom!! “You’ve got a great set on you” SAY THAT TO ME PLEASE! “More cute than anything else, but still totally fuckable” just take my pants off already! Harry whispering “is she gone?” from behind a corner is (I don’t know why) adorable! Another goal is for Harry to play with my hair and for me to play with his hair!! Is this a hair kink or a hand kink? Harry spoon me please! Part 3

Part 3 “I know you, I wanna date you, and I certainly want to fuck you” our wedding vows! But no seriously can this man please say that to me!!! Oh I’m getting soft for this conversation about possibly moving to the next step! ANOTHER GOAL is to watch Harry go at it, watch him in the zone eating the puss! “Yeah, ride my fucking leg, baby, show me how you do it” bloody hell!! What a time to be horny! So far I want ALL of this 😗👉🏼👈🏼 fuck my shit up Harry! Eat me out all damn day! Part 4

Part 4 “Don’t want any other guy. I don’t want anyone else to fuck me.” Harry I am yours!!! “Being immersed in his scent” vanilla but spicy? I love that after sex and while cuddling they go back to being their normal selves, being best friends! This was on purpose!! He was the person you were supposed to be with! I’m crying after sex!! Holy shit I need a minute! Bravo lovie!!

#and they were roommaes #thanks so much alyssa!

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noramoons · 2 years ago

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feels like we only go backwards

pairing: seo changbin x fem reader (afab)

genre: college au, frat boy!changbin

includes: angst, smut, (slight) fluff

rating: mature/18+ (minors DNI.)

warnings: mentions of drinking, food, language, explicit sexual content, friends with benefits, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), a relationship that starts out toxic (please communicate with your romantic/sexual partners :D)

word count: 8.5k

summary: it’s been three years since you’ve seen changbin. you’ve gotten over your crush on him.

haven’t you?

This is, without a doubt, the worst frat party you've ever been to.

In all fairness, it's also the only frat party you've ever been to. You've spent almost the entirety of your college career away from this crowd; your goal has always been to get in and get out of university, nothing more, and nothing less, and you've done it in record time—just over three years, with your next semester also being your last. You're proud of yourself for how hard you've worked—how you've put your nose to the metaphorical grindstone and done nothing but work for three years, turning down all the party invitations, the weekend getaways, the spring break trips—all of it, so you could be done with school and get started on the part of your life that actually matters.

Well—you turned down most of them.

Your roommate, Saori, had begged you to go out with her this weekend—you’ve been such a stick in the mud (a direct quote!) for the past three years. She’s known you for years, your whole life, practically, and she says she misses who you used to be be. Back when you used to be fun. And it’s almost the end of the fall semester—there won’t be that many parties after this, after all.

So you agreed to go, albeit begrudgingly. Those goddamned emotions were finally getting to you again, of all things.

But now you're here. Saori had left you for the dance floor hours ago, leaving you with your back against the wall at the back of the room with a half-full red Solo cup in one hand. How revoltingly cliché.

You scan the room in front of you again. These kinds of parties have to only be fun if you're drunk—you can't understand the appeal otherwise. The dance floor across from you is full of nothing but senseless swaying and grinding, half of it not even on beat with the music booming in the speakers, reverberating in your chest and pounding against your ears.

It's on this final scan that you see a familiar face, though, and you nearly drop the plastic cup in your hand.

You almost laugh, but you don't.

Instead, you stare at the side profile of the man you think you'd recognize anywhere until he finally turns to make eye contact with you, and he looks just as surprised as you.

Seo Changbin.

"Y/N?"

You throw up your free hand in feigned defeat, plastering a fake smile on your lips instantly as he strolls over. You have an instant of mental panic thinking he's going to go in for a hug, but he saves you from your thoughts when he delivers a light punch to your shoulder.

"What are you doing here? I didn't know you even went to this school."

You let out a short laugh at that. "Yeah, I didn't know you did either. Kinda defeats the whole purpose of going to college this far away."

He cocks one eyebrow at you. "You came all this way just to avoid me?"

You make a face. "N-no, I meant people from high school. In general."

Changbin's grin widens. You could smack him. "Right."

You change the subject. "So...you're in this frat?"

He nods. "Sure am. Thought it would be a good way to meet people, get involved."

Right. "How's it been?" The small talk is killing you, you think, eating you away from the inside out—but you suppose it's better than the alternative. Besides, the two of you have always been good at this—practically lying to each other's faces to keep from actually having a serious conversation.

"It's been great, I've had an awesome time so far. I'm surprised I've never seen you before though—did you transfer?"

As if. "Oh, no—I came with my roommate. This, uh, isn't really my thing."

Changbin smirks at that. He lifts his index finger from being curled around the drink in his hand to point at the cup in yours. "That your first drink?"

You nod.

"I'll grab you another one. These are no fun if you're sober."

Funny—you'd just been thinking that. "Oh, Changbin, you don't have to, I—"

But he's already waving your words away as he walks towards the drink counter on the other side of the room.

He'd been your lab partner in chemistry senior year. God, you'd hated chemistry—but he hadn't. Rather, he'd taken to the subject like a duck to water, much to your chagrin—at least, until you realized he couldn't write an essay to save his life. A bargain was struck: he'd help you in chemistry, you'd help him in writing composition. Simple.

Simple. Which was exactly what it was supposed to be. And, in your defense, it had been, at first: his house wasn't even that far from yours. You'd walk over after school, or he'd knock on your door an hour or so after you got home. You'd exchange tips on your respective homework, and you'd return to your respective houses.

Before long, you're both doing well enough in your classes to stay afloat—but you still find yourself over at each other's houses several days of the week anyway. Half the time you don't even talk about school—you catch up on a show you're both becoming obsessed with, or he shows you a new song from some group you've never heard of, or you tell him about how crazy your parents are driving you this week, and he tells you about his ex-girlfriend being passive-aggressive towards him in the cafeteria, and it all still feels simple. Easy. Meant to be.

It still feels that way the day he kisses you on the couch in the middle of your movie marathon. You're glad you'd seen that movie before, because you don't end up getting to watch the end of it—or any of the sequels afterward. It's nothing more than background noise with Changbin's lips on your neck and his deft fingers unbuttoning the front of your jeans.

You barely make it in the front door the next time you come over before his hands are on you, and the time after that is the same way—all hurried, hushed words and soft kisses and clothes in a pile on his bedroom floor—and God, you've never known anything like this. You've fooled around before, maybe, but it almost scares you how fast you fall for Changbin. You had admired him long before you became lab partners in your shared chemistry class—you'd secretly been so glad when those classroom assignments had been announced, and you had been happy to just be friends at the beginning. This—whatever the two of you are now is more than you could have ever hoped for. It feels like all the pieces are falling into place.

That's why it's such a surprise when he doesn't ask you to come over the day before your next chemistry exam. You'd been planning a big study session for both of you—flashcards, color-coded notes, the works. And maybe you'd put on that pink set of lingerie he liked so much underneath your clothes that morning just in case anything else happened. Again.

Instead, he sends you a message, asking you to meet him in the parking lot after school. You'd felt that uneasy pit of nerves forming in the bottom of your stomach at the text, something you've never felt around him, and you hope you're just overthinking things.

You aren't.

Those last words of his to you stick in the front of your brain for weeks, like gum you can't get off the bottom of your shoe.

"I just don't think I can do anything like this right now. You know it hasn't been that long since Suran and I broke up, and I just think I might have moved too quickly on this."

You'd nodded quickly—too quickly, swallowing back tears as you did so. "Y-yeah, no, I get that. It's okay."

Changbin had given you a sad little smile. "You know, you can keep my jacket. If you want."

Asshole.

He'd said he didn't think he could do anything—so why had he done anything in the first place?

You're distracted from your thoughts when he returns with another red cup, holding it out towards you. "How're classes going?"

You almost miss the smirk that flashes across his face for a brief instant as he watches you down the rest of your drink in one gulp, taking the new cup from his outstretched hand. "Alright, I guess. How about you?"

Changbin shrugs. "Same here. What's your major again?"

'Again—' as if he'd asked before. "Communications."

"Oh, nice!" he says, nodding. "I'm in music production."

You almost let out a laugh. "Music production, huh? What, are you on SoundCloud, too?"

His grin only widens. "Want me to send you my link? Or you could come over and listen to it, sometime," he adds with a wink.

You laugh, despite yourself—and maybe it's the alcohol in your system loosening the tension in your chest, and maybe it isn't—but you feel suddenly stricken with the reminder that the two of you were friends, once. And he'd been easy to get along with, easier than any other guy you'd ever hung around.

Those first few weeks after you'd broken up (could you even say you'd broken up, really, if you'd never actually been together?) had been weird, to say the least. You'd done horrible on the exam the following day, something you would spend the entire rest of the semester making up for, and neither of you said a word to each other for weeks, about the class or otherwise. It wasn't until the next test rolled around that you reluctantly suggested comparing notes again—after school, of course, and in the coffee shop downtown. You weren't letting him in your house again, and you certainly weren't going over to his.

It had struck you in that moment, too, how well the two of you got along—sure, it had been awkward at first, pulling out your notes and talking about chemical titrations again like nothing had happened—but maybe it was better this way. You both work better as friends, clearly, so maybe that's all you should ever aim to be. At least you have this.

You think about that as your gaze flickers back up to his. You should say no, you think. You should yell at him for being such a pretentious dick, for not even bringing up how you'd left things senior year—but you don't. Instead, a half-smile crawls its way up the side of your mouth before you can stop it. "Sure."

~~~

It had scared you, those years ago, how quickly you'd fallen for him. Now, it scares you how easy you're able to fall into a routine again with him—as if nothing at all had happened. As if you're simply picking up from the last day of your shared chemistry class.

You still have an infuriating amount of things in common—you may even have more of the same interests now than you did in high school. You still watch the same shows, listen to the same music—and you'd be lying if you said he wasn't talented in that department, too. He invites you over one night while he works on an assignment with a few other students from the music department, and they're all good. Unbelievably so.

You fit in well with his friends, too—they're all just as funny and quick-witted as Changbin. Seeing him laugh again—especially when you're the cause of it, making him laugh that hearty, musical chuckle with something you said or did feels better than you remember.

You're all laughing together one night, playing a stupid drinking game at your apartment, and the alcohol in your system isn't the only thing making you feel so light headed. Changbin keeps grabbing hold of your shoulder when he laughs, throwing his head back and holding on to you for support, and you're suddenly having a hard time remembering why you'd been so stressed to see him nearly a month ago at that party.

The oldest of Changbin's friends—Chan, the grad student, points at you as he tries to stifle his laughter. "You lost!" he says, a little too gleefully. "Again!"

"Okay, okay! I get it, I'm going!" you shout over the noise of the music playing in the background, shooting him a fake grimace as you throw back another shot of vodka as punishment for not knowing the drummer for some obscure band you've never heard of.

They all cheer when you slam the empty shot glass back on the counter, and now you're the one giggling as you hold onto Changbin for support. He shoves your shoulder lightly when he notices, but he doesn't push you off of him.

"Alright, alright," Chan starts again once the commotion starts to quiet down again. "Changbin's turn. Truth or dare?"

Changbin shrugs. "Truth."

"Okay. What was the first thing I asked you last year in Professor Jang’s class?"

Changbin tilts his head to the side, but he only has to think for a few moments. "'Do you have a pencil I could borrow?'"

There's an immediate chorus of laughter around the circle, Jisung's laugh heard almost above everyone else's from your left. "He's too good at these, man. Changbin's no fun with these games."

Chan waves his words away. "Quit complaining already, it's your turn. You lost last round, so you get to ask."

Jisung scans the circle. "Alright...Hyunjin. Truth or dare?"

Hyunjin takes a moment to decide. "Dare."

Jisung, however, doesn't take long to choose a dare. "You should kiss Y/N."

You feel like everything slows down immediately, as if you're suddenly completely sober. All four pairs of eyes are on you, looking you up and down—including Hyunjin's.

You meet his gaze right back.

"You don't have to, you know," Chan reminds Hyunjin (and the rest of the group). "You can always take the shot instead."

Hyunjin's eyes haven't left yours. "I know."

You think you'd probably be panicking internally if you were sober—this is only the second time you've seen Hyunjin, and you were decidedly much less tipsy the first time you'd met. Not to mention the fact that he's practically Adonis reincarnated—you'd have to be blind to not notice the sharp cut of his jawline or the fullness of his lips.

But you aren't sober now—and that's probably what gives you the courage to take a step closer to him. The rest of the group practically melts away when he cups a hand under your jaw, tilting your head up to press his lips to yours in a brief kiss—hardly more than a peck, really, but you're brought back to Earth by the cacophony of cheers from the men around you, taking a step back as Hyunjin lets go of your jaw, both of you grinning sheepishly.

Your eyes flicker past Hyunjin, to the man right behind him, and your blood practically runs cold when you see the look in Changbin's eyes—the quiet kind of anger you've only ever seen on him a handful of times.

You suddenly feel a twinge of guilt—why? There's no reason for you to be thinking about him. There's no reason for you to feel guilty about doing anything without his permission, for Christ's sake—you couldn't be less involved if you tried. And yet, you think about that inexplicable emotion in his eyes, that clench of his jaw with his hands in his pockets, for long after the party ends.

~~~

This is stupid, you think.

Changbin's ignoring you. There's not a doubt in your mind.

You'd been meeting Changbin at least once a week for food or studying before that party—he'd text you or you'd text him. It's been three weeks since that now-infamous party, since your barely-there-kiss with Hyunjin, and there's been nothing from Changbin. Complete radio silence.

You tell yourself you don't care. You've gotten by for three whole years since high school with scarcely a thought about the man. Surely you can carry on now without seeing him every now and then.

You don't care. You don't.

Which is definitely why you practically jump out of your seat when his name pops up at the top of your notifications.

s.c

> you going to jisung's tonight?

y/n

< hadn't planned to lol. is something happening?

s.c

> we're doing a movie night

> i told him to text you like a week ago lmao

You could've told me, you think. You're reminded of the feeling you'd had at that first frat party where you'd seen Changbin, almost three months ago now—you knew as well as you knew your own name then that you should have said no when he asked you to come over.

s.c.

> you coming? it's at 8

You should say no this time.

y/n

< yeah, i'll see you there

~~~

Changbin's friends are, to put it nicely, absolutely terrible chefs.

Chan and Jisung had meant to make pizza rolls for the group, using the oven they were so happy to have in the apartment to feed their friends with. Once everyone comes over, however, the rolls are all but forgotten in the commotion of six people talking in the apartment all at once—at least, until Hyunjin suddenly smells something in the kitchen, he says. Something really bad.

Both Chan and Jisung let out an anguished yell at the same time—"the pizza rolls!—" but it's far too late for the blackened, melted orbs in the oven that were once frozen rolls.

There's only a few other things the boys keep in the pantry that you could even consider edible—which is how you find yourself on the couch a few hours later, a bowl of stale popcorn on your lap and a half-empty bottle of water in the other.

Half the men had fallen asleep in the middle of the first movie, and the rest had dozen off somewhere in the second. You're the only person awake to catch the end of the trilogy, but you find that you don't really mind, even if it's a movie you've seen once or twice before. There's something impossibly and almost beautifully serene in the moment—five other men around you, who have been some of the loudest people you've ever met, all perfectly quiet and asleep, empty bags of chips and candies strewn around them on the other couches and armchairs. It's an unusual scene, but it's one that you find yourself comfortably content in anyway.

Once the movie's over, you tell yourself you're going to go home, letting the TV go on autoplay as it selects another random movie to begin as you slowly rise up from the couch, trying your utmost not to disturb any of the sleeping men in the room.

At least, you'd thought they'd all been asleep.

A hand clasps at your wrist as you move to stand.

You look down. "Changbin?" you whisper, sitting back down as slowly as you can. "I thought you were asleep."

He shakes his head, moving to sit up beside you on the couch. "I've been awake for a bit. That movie bored me half to death."

You laugh quietly. "I didn't think it was that bad. Not like that stupid space series you used to be so fond of, though."

Changbin gasps, clutching his chest in mock offense. "I can't believe this, Y/N. We're too different these days," he says, laughing. "We used to be so similar."

There's a pang in your heart at those words. You had been so similar, once. There was a time, albeit a brief one, where you did everything together, and it had felt so right. Like you'd been meant to do so.

He grins, continuing. "I'm glad we're friends again."

A soft smile flies to your lips before you're even aware of it. "I'm glad we are, too."

You sit in that moment of contentment with him for just a moment too long, or maybe not long enough, before you feel it shift. You're suddenly aware of his hand on your knee—when did it get there?—but his eyes are still locked on yours. You find that you aren't entirely surprised at all when his free hand comes up to cup your chin and his lips press to yours, softly. Hesitantly. And when he pulls back again, waiting to see if you shove him off of you, to stand up and walk away like you know you should, but you don't, you aren't surprised when he kisses you again, deeper this time, because this feels right, too. Like you'd known he was going to do this all along.

You curl your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck as you kiss him back, and the soft sound of a groan into your mouth at your actions makes you feel far prouder than you probably should. In return, he squeezes at your knee, sliding his hand up your thigh to rest at your waist as you maneuver against him, practically sitting in his lap at this point.

The kisses turn more intense quickly, neither of you stopping until you're both left gasping against each other's lips, Changbin kneading at the skin of your waist reassuringly. But you don't miss the way his eyes flicker down to the waistband of your jeans, slowly moving a hand to gently rest over the button. "Is this okay?" he whispers, his warm breath cascading over your lips and making you shiver all the way from the top of your spine down. You know what he's asking.

But you know you shouldn't. For fuck's sake—there are four other men in the room, fast asleep on different couches and the floor, and you don't think you could ever look any of them in the eye again if they woke up to Changbin fucking you at what was supposed to be a movie night with friends. "Changbin," you start. "I don't know if we're—"

He guesses how the end of your sentence was going to go. "Hey," he reassures you. "If you want to, this doesn't have to be anything. No strings," he says, mimicking a pair of scissors cutting with the hand not currently resting on your stomach.

That hadn’t been what you’d meant, but you wish he'd said something like that when you'd known him back in high school. You should've known back then that Seo Changbin has never wanted an actual relationship with you—not in the way that you want. Used to want.

No, your mind corrects. Look at how quickly he's wrapped you around his finger again. You absolutely still want him, regardless of what had happened in the past—there's no point in lying to yourself anymore. Maybe it'll be different this time.

You know that's a mistake to think. It has to be. But the way you feel is the truth—a part of you has hoped, since that fateful moment in the parking lot nearly four years ago, now, that you'd end up in this exact situation, with Changbin wanting you again. You've tried to lie to yourself for years. But you still know this isn't healthy.

You kiss him as an answer anyway.

~~~

You'd thought it had been easy to fall into a friendly routine with Changbin before, fitting into each other's schedules to study or watch movies like you'd made your schedules for each other. Falling into a friends-with-benefits routine is almost easier—he eats you out before class, or you suck him off after an exam he'd been particularly worried about, or the two of you fuck in between note-taking sessions. It works surprisingly well, and you think again that this is the only way you and Changbin seem to be able to work. And you're happy with that, even if you can't stop that ping in your heart every time he leaves almost immediately after cleaning the two of you up.

Your roommate catches him walking out one day as she returns to your apartment from class, and you wince at the thought of having to explain whatever the hell you and Changbin are—you hope she'll find it slightly awkward and just avoid the subject altogether.

You have no such luck.

Saori raises an eyebrow before gesturing to the door behind her. "Who was that?"

"Changbin," you say plainly, as if that explains anything. "He's a friend from high school."

She stares at you for a beat too long. "Just a friend?"

You take a moment too long to answer, and she immediately crosses the room to plop on the couch next to you. "Spill. Now."

And you do—you think you may have needed to tell someone about all of this a long time ago, because it seems like once you start, you can't stop, seemingly talking for hours.

The only time Saori interrupts you is at the end—she can tell you just need to vent. "So...why do you like this guy, again?"

You almost laugh, but you think the fact that it takes you a moment to think of an answer is telling in and of itself. "I...I always looked up to him in high school. I still do now—he's so talented, and smart, and funny, and it feels like a miracle that he wants to keep someone like me around."

She frowns at that. "Someone like you?' Y/N, you're one of the most talented, smartest, and funniest people I know. You've got everything this guy has and then some. Why are you so convinced he's out of your league?"

That is something you don't have an answer for. "I think I'm just happy to have him around at all, whatever that means."

Her eyes widen with concern. "Y/N...there's no way you don't hear how that sounds." She lets out a shallow laugh. "He's funny and cool, maybe, but he's still just a guy. Come on. You deserve better than someone who just gets to pick and choose when you get to do anything. Having a friend with benefits is one thing, if it's truly 'no strings attached,' but it's not, is it?" she asks softly. "I don't think it's ever been."

You wish you had an answer for you why'd become so fixated on Changbin—why you were willing to let him treat you this way, why you were so willing to let him be oblivious to your feelings. But you don't have one. Your heart had picked him a long time ago, and it's refused to let go ever since. Affection apparently does ridiculous things to people, after all. "So...should I tell him? How I feel?"

Saori licks her lips nervously. "I think so. I think you should cut off the friends-with-benefits for sure—it's not fair to either of you since you're obviously on different pages about it. And you deserve someone better who won't just look past how you obviously feel."

You know she's right. You know what it is that you have to do.

You just don't know if you can do it.

~~~

Changbin texts you the next day that's he's coming over to work on homework. Of course, you know what that's code for (sitting between his legs while he reworks the same song for the seemingly thousandth time), but you're convinced you can tell him what you need to tell him, that it's time to end this weird, vicious cycle you've wrapped yourselves in because of your own feelings. At least, you hope you can.

But you can tell something is different from the moment he walks in the door to your apartment—there's a strangeness in the way he's carrying himself, in the set of his shoulders that you know you've never seen from him before.

You try to discard the observation, attributing it to your own nerves about the situation as he sets his backpack down beside the coffee table and pulls out his laptop, offering you a brief smile before getting to work.

You let him work in silence for a bit, going through your own pages of notes to summarize what you need to for the essay that's due next week, but you can't focus on any of it in the slightest, the words on the pages all swirling around in your mind and combining into one massive mess at the forefront of your thoughts.

You set down your notes, clearing your throat to speak just as Changbin takes his headphones off and sets them aside on the couch. "Y/N," he starts, shifting in his seat. "Do you mind if we talk for a minute?"

You nod, maybe too quickly. "Yeah, I—I actually wanted to talk to you today, too."

He nods. "Okay—great. I, um—there's no easy way to say this, is there?"

You feel a lump forming in your throat. No way.

"I...I'm not sure if we should do...this," he says, gesturing with one hand at the space in between the two of you, "anymore. It's completely my fault—I think I've made it to be something in my head that it's not. If you're okay with going back to being friends, that's fine, but if you're not, I'd totally understand, too."

You don't know what to say. You're in shock, frankly, and you feel like your mouth may even be comically hanging open.

He's breaking off the friends-with-benefits. He wouldn't even let you have the moment of getting to decide it for yourself.

The haze that you've felt over your mind about Changbin for the past several months finally, finally evaporates—you see your emotions clearly for the first time. You feel like a shaken-up bottle of soda, and his words are the catalyst that finally flick the cap off.

You speak, finally. "I'm sorry—you're breaking it off? You think this is unhealthy?" You scoff. "You've got to be fucking joking."

Changbin frowns. It's obviously not the response he thought he was going to get from you. "Y/N, I—"

You don't let him finish. "Changbin, I...I've been practically head over heels for you since high school. I let you treat me however you wanted because for whatever reason, my stupid brain picked you, of all people, to fixate on. I was fine with just being friends. I was fine with being your occasional fling, all because I just wanted to be around you—and you're the one who thinks this is unhealthy?" You let out a short laugh. "You're right. It is. And I should've seen that a long, long time ago. So if anyone's calling this thing off, it's me."

Changbin stares at you for a long, long time—you almost keep going with what you've said before, just to break the uncomfortable silence you've created, before he opens his mouth to speak again. "You...you've liked me? Since high school?"

You throw your hands in the air in exasperation. "Yes!" you say. "I thought that was obvious."

He slowly shakes his head from side to side. "Y/N....I thought you'd hated me, after how fucking immature I was senior year."

You let out a sigh. "I wanted to. Believe me, I really, really wanted to—but I didn't. I was mad at you for a while, sure, but I've never hated you."

Changbin's eyes still haven't left yours. "I...Y/N, the reason I wanted to call this off is because I like you. I didn't say anything because I didn't dare think you could ever feel the same way after how stupid I was in high school, just treating you as a rebound when you deserve so much better than that. I was surprised that you were okay being friends with benefits, but I never let myself think you'd ever want anything more than that."

It takes you a long time to process everything he's just said. "...What?" you whisper. You think about how long you've wanted him to say something like that—you wonder if this is all a dream. Is it something you really still want to hear from him? "Changbin, I was going to call off the friends-with-benefits today because I'm tired of liking you and not doing anything about it. I...I never would have ever guessed that you felt the same way." You let out a nervous laugh as you shake your head in disbelief. "Why are we so fucking bad at being honest with each other?"

Changbin lets out an uneasy laugh too. "I don't know. I just didn't want to fuck this up—I like you too much for that. I didn't ever want to push you past what you were comfortable with, but I...I guess I still did. Y/N—I'm so, so sorry."

You can't believe this. You really can't—but this is real. Changbin's sitting in front of you, right now, and he's saying something you never thought you'd hear him say in your entire lifetime. "What about back in high school?" you ask, trying to keep the sudden nervousness out of your voice. "When you told me you didn't think this would work, that you'd moved on from your ex too quickly...dammit, Changbin, why did you do anything to begin with?"

He winces. "Y/N—I should have apologized for that a long time ago. I pushed you away from me back then because I was scared. I was eighteen, and an idiot, and I'd just gotten out a relationship that had lasted way too long and...and I was falling for you. Really fast. And that scared me, so the only thing I could think to do was push you away where I couldn't hurt you."

You take in his words for a moment. You think about how you would have done anything for him to say something like that three years ago—but maybe that was immature, too. Is he different now? Are you? Certainly—but clearly neither of you are any better at communicating how you feel, too afraid to step on the other's toes.

You let out another sigh, your breath still shaky. "This is...insane, honestly. I wish we could just start over, somehow—undo whatever the hell this is that we've gotten ourselves into."

He nods. "I...I think we can do that. If that's something you want—I'd be more than willing to try."

You laugh. "Changbin, I really—"

But you look down to see Changbin's outstretched arm pointing towards you before you can say anything else. "Hi," he says. "My name's Changbin. I like you."

You stare at his hand in utter disbelief—disbelief that he's doing this, disbelief that the two of you have gotten to this point that you never thought you'd get to—for only a moment before you clasp his hand in yours. "I'm Y/N," you say, decidedly. "I like you too."

It seems stupidly comical for the situation you've found yourselves in—but you both dissolve into laughter within an instant, mostly out of relief. "God, Y/N," Changbin says, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. If you can forgive me for being so stupid, I...I'll be amazed, honestly, but—I promise I'll be better. I'll do everything I can to be better."

You take a deep breath. "I need to be better, too," you say honestly. "I should've been upfront about how I felt so we didn't get into this mess of trying not to make the other person uncomfortable, even if we both felt the same way. If...if you want to try again, I'll do everything I can to be better, too."

Changbin nods. "I...I think you deserve better than me," he says, swallowing uneasily.

He's probably right. "I know," you say, and his expression doesn't change. "But for whatever reason, I don't want better than you. I still just want you."

The relief in his eyes is palpable as he lets a small, soft smile appear on his lips at your words. "Y/N...I know we just met," he says, his smile growing slightly wider at his own joke, "but—can I kiss you?"

You smile at him, too. "So forward," you tease, biting back a smile. "But yes, man I just met—you can kiss me."

That grin widens ever so slightly before he cups your cheek with his palm, leaning in to press his lips to yours. He kisses you, but it doesn't feel at all like that kiss you'd shared in Jisung's living room—rather, the soft touch of his lips to yours feels like that first kiss you'd ever had with him, on the couch of your childhood home, where you'd been so hopeful of what the future with him held.

You know that was foolish, now—but that was then. Now, that you're both older, better, smarter (maybe), determined to make a change and actually tell each other the things you feel when you feel them—you feel a new kind of hope for what you could have with Changbin.

Regardless of that, you still can't believe that you'd psyched yourself up last night to break your friends-with-benefits situation off with him, and now you're kissing him softly on your couch. "This doesn't feel real," you admit to him.

He grins at you. "It's real."

You shake your head, biting back a grin. "I don't believe you."

Changbin laughs at that. "You don't believe me? Damn. I guess I'll have to do something to make you believe this is real, then," he says, crashing his lips against yours again, gently winding his fingers through your hair and pulling you close to him, and he doesn't pull back away until both of you are gasping for breath.

"Well?" he asks, and you'd almost forgotten about what you'd started. "Did that feel real?"

You smile coyly, shaking your head. "No," you whisper. "I think I'm going to need a little more convincing than that."

You practically see the switch flip in his head when he finally, finally catches your meaning. "Hmm," he says, pretending to mull it over. "Let me see what I can do about that." Before you can blink, he's slid one hand under your knees and the other around your shoulders, lifting you into his arms with ease before he makes his way into your bedroom, tossing you haphazardly onto your bed before he crawls beside you, meeting your lips once more.

This is already decidedly different, and it warms your heart instantly—he’s only been in your room once or twice before, anyway. Your hookups before have almost always been in less-than traditional places, somewhere the two of you could get off quickly and hide the evidence quicker—a couch, his desk, that one time against the wall—but this is different. It's a small, minute difference, but it's practically night and day to you. It's a sign that this might be different.

So you kiss him back again, holding tighter to his arms above you as his hands slide down your body to tug at your hips. You feel him laugh softly when you shiver at the feeling of his hands on you, but his hands hover at the hem of your shirt—an unspoken question, but you know what he's asking. You take hold of his wrists and guide his hands under your shirt, and both of you let out a moan that feels positively electric as his hands skim your bare skin, running their way up to your chest and gently cupping, circling your nipples with his thumb before you tilts your head back against the pillow behind you, sighing into his mouth.

Changbin moves one of his hands out from under your shirt, feeling your breath on his fingers when he cups your chin with two fingers and brings your gaze back to his. "You're so beautiful, Y/N," he says.

He’s said this before, but you’ve never looked at each other this way, or for this long. There’s meaning behind what you feel now, not just unspoken hopes behind empty words, and that’s why your face flushes pink at his words, enough to bring a wider smile to his face at the reaction.

You lean your head to the side enough to kiss the inside of his wrist before he pulls his arm away. “You’re beautiful too, you know,” you say, and he grins back at you as his hands trail back down to the hem of your shirt, playing with the fabric gently. When he tugs it over your head, you let him, and you yank at the collar of his own shirt before he’s laughing, pulling his own shirt off to join yours on the floor beside your bed, just like how both of your pants and underwear follow until you’re both bare before each other—which, again, shouldn’t be anything new for either of you. It isn’t, frankly, but there is something new in the atmosphere, and you know he feels it too. There’s none of your usual hurriedness to disrobe each other, to get everything started as soon as possible so it can be over as soon possible, too—instead, his hands on yours are unbearably tender, rubbing over the skin of your arms, legs, and stomach softly like it’s the first time he’s ever touched you. You’re vulnerable underneath him in a way you’ve never been before—he knows your heart, now, and you know his.

He doesn’t stop the tender touches, squeezing reassuringly at your hips while he gives soft bites to the skin of your thighs, smoothing over the skin with his tongue before moving to where he knows you want him—where you need him. You shiver just at the feeling of his breath between your legs, and you know he can feel it when he smirks up at you. “You okay?” he asks teasingly.

You roll your eyes. “I should be, unless you keep taking your sweet time down—ah!” You cut yourself off inadvertently when he lays the flat of his tongue against you, licking one long stripe up your slit.

You feel him laugh quietly against you, the vibrations of his voice against your cunt enough to make you squeeze your thighs together, but he’s wrapping both arms around both your legs and pushing them further apart before you can even protest.

You cry out when he moves ever so slightly further upward, sucking hard at your clit that doesn’t take him any time at all to find, now—he knows your body so well, even if his hands on your skin are as gentle as if it’s your first time. It’s not long before he lets go of one of your thighs, moving a hand down so he can slip a finger, then two beside his tongue, pushing and curling in and out at an achingly slow pace to get you to beg for him—and you do.

“Ngh—Changbin,” you pant, grasping the ends of his hair in your hand. “Please.”

He increases the speed of his fingers ever so slowly as he pulls his mouth away from you, breath ghosting over your pussy. “You want me to make you come, sweet girl?”

You shake your head. You’ve never said no to him before, that’s for sure, but you can’t wait any longer. You need him inside of you—now. “Want you,” you manage to get out. “Need you inside of me.”

Changbin lets out a deep exhale. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groans as he pulls himself above you. “You really always know what to say.”

You very nearly laugh at that before you see him stroking himself once, twice, taking his bottom lip in his teeth with a hiss at the sight of you before lining his member up with your entrance. It’s a stretch you’ve grown accustomed to, certainly, but it still burns slightly as he pushes into you, watching your face when he finally bottoms out, hips against yours while he waits for you to tell him he can move.

You nod, wordlessly, and he leans down to land a quick kiss to your nose before he finally, finally starts to move inside of you. He starts at that same teasing pace as before, obviously enjoying the look of frustration on your face as you grasp at his shoulders. “What is it, Y/N?” he asks sweetly, grinning at you while he slowly fucks into you.

“‘Bin,” you gasp out when he just barely misses that spot inside of you that usually makes you see stars—and you know he’s doing it on purpose, too. Bastard. “Fuck me. Please.”

You see his grin drop almost immediately, clenching his jaw at your words and the nickname that you know drives him wild. “Baby,” he starts, grabbing a hold of the sheets on either side of your head as he starts fucking into you faster, rolling his hips into you the way he knows you like. “If you ask like that, I’ll never say no.”

Just the sight of him like this has you near the edge—none of that usual hurried nature, his eyebrows knit together as he tries to focus on being quiet enough so the two of you can make it last as long as possible—no, now he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, like you hung the stars in the sky, the same stars that you see in his adoring eyes now.

You can only take so much of his beautifully intense gaze, though, paired with the bruising pace he starts to keep up between your legs, and you turn your head to the side in an attempt to muffle your moans against the pillow beside you.

Changbin, of course, will have absolutely none of that. He lets go of the sheets on one side to grab your chin again, tilting your head back towards his face, keeping you you from looking away. “Nuh-uh,” he chides, tightening his grip on your chin ever so slightly. “Let me see your pretty face like this, while you’re being so good for me.”

You let out another moan at his words, especially when he moves his other hand down to draw tight, slick circles on your clit. “Fuck,” you gasp, digging your fingers into his shoulders, pulling him as close to you as you can manage. “Feels so good—Changbin—”

He’s heard that warning tone in your voice enough to know what it means. “Feels so good for me too, baby—shit. I can’t believe I get to have you like this,” he groans as you tighten around him. “All mine.”

You are his—have been for probably longer than either of you knows. So you nod. “I’m yours,” you repeat, and you think his eyes nearly darken immediately at the admission. He swallows, nodding too.

“Mine.”

The sound of his skin slapping against yours fills the room, as crude as ever, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, no, not as his deft fingers speed up their ministrations against your clit while he continues to fuck you as hard as he can, coiling that pleasure below your stomach into a tight knot until you finally feel it snap with a cry of his name, shuddering as you arch your back against him—and Changbin isn’t far behind you, grabbing one side of your waist hard enough that you know you’ll have marks tomorrow as he thrusts back into you three, four more times before he reaches his own climax, stilling inside of you.

For a brief instant, you halfway expect him to pull out, clean the two of you up quickly, and leave for his own apartment the way he has before—but he doesn’t. Changbin lies there, on top of you with his forehead pressed lightly to yours, him softening inside of you for a few beautiful, quiet moments—at least, until you think you might stop breathing if he doesn’t get off of you. You shove at him lightly, but he gets the message, grinning against you before he rolls over to one side, keeping an arm slung around you while he gazes at the ceiling, the both of you slowly catching your breath in gradual exhales.

Now this, certainly, is different. You’d never let yourself lay in the afterglow with him like this, too afraid of the conclusions your hopeless romantic brain would draw if you let him hold you as you both came down from your highs, but he never stayed around very long afterwards, either. Now you know it may have very well been for the same reason.

He kisses the crown of your hair before pulling back to meet your gaze once more. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

You almost feel like you’ve gotten whiplash from the question, seemingly coming out of nowhere. “What?”

Changbin’s grin widens slightly. “Can I take you out? On a real date? If you…you know, still want to try this.”

Oh. You laugh softly, feeling every worry you’ve had dissipate like a puddle under the warm sun. “Yes, Changbin. I’ll go out with you.”

He makes a show of wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. “Thank goodness.”

You continue to lay there, gazing at each other in an unbelievably loving way for longer than you could have ever anticipated Changbin to have the patience for—but you don’t feel uncomfortable under that gaze at all, occasionally moving a hand to comb through his hair as he strokes a thumb over your cheek.

You suppose you have no real way of knowing if this will be better than how your relationship with Changbin has been before—he’s said he’ll be better. You’ve said you’ll be better. What else can you go off of? All you can do, you think, is hope that you—the both of you—are better. That you’ll both do better for each other. It’s what you both deserve.

And as you feel his heartbeat slow down against you, his hands gently stroking the small of your back while he holds you as close to his chest as he can, you feel more optimistic about your chances of this—this beginning, the ending of the old chapter and the start line of a decidedly new one—occurring than you have in a long, long time.

taglist: @petrichor-han @kangroo-chan @ot7lonelylover @lilacdreams-00 @mainexiii @awkwardnesshabitat @lotus-dly @elizabeth11moreno @nerdysl-t @quinnsmindpalace

#stray kids oneshot #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #changbin x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz smut #skz angst #changbin smut #changbin angst #stray kids fic #skz fic #seo changbin x reader #seo changbin smut #seo changbin angst #beck writes ✍️

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peggydreadful · 3 years ago

Text

A Hundred Years to a Steadfast Heart

Pippa and Beau aren’t fighting, because Pippa and Beau don’t fight—but they’re not not fighting, either.

They’re sitting in Beau’s car, which has been parked in the last row of the Walmart parking lot, far away from the chatter and prying eyes of the bustling weekend shoppers. The windows of the car are rolled down, but it’s hot, the summer air stale and heavy without a breeze to disrupt the stifling heat, and everything in the car smells like burning rubber.

Pippa hates it.

“I’m sorry,” Beau says, breaking the silence.

“Stop that,” Pippa says. Her eyes are closed, and she doesn’t open them when she speaks, trying her best to dissociate from the sticky sweat clinging to the nape of her neck and the hollow of her armpits. It’s not working. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Right. Sure.” Beau sounds doubtful, and Pippa can imagine the pouty side-eye he’s giving her right now, the way he’s flopped over the steering wheel so that his eyes are peering mournfully over the crook of his elbow. “You don’t have to lie to me, Pip. I know you’re pissed—”

“I’m not.” It’s the truth. Pippa isn’t angry, she’s tired—but that’s not something she can say to Beau, not when he’s the one who’s been cursed to live a hundred years without sleep. Pippa is a lot of things, but she’s not an asshole.

“I’m just surprised,” she says instead. “When you said you’d decided on one last cure to try for your curse, I thought you meant you’d found some high-tech plasma treatment or something. Not a scam artist on Craigslist who apparently grants wishes in exchange for family heirlooms.”

“It’s not a scam,” Beau protests. “This person’s legit. Faye said that ever since she traded them her godmother’s vintage sewing machine, she’s been able to eat gluten again.”

Pippa opens her eyes, if only so Beau can see her rolling them. “Well, Faye isn’t cursed; she’s a hypochondriac. Besides, on what basis is this person claiming to be able to grant wishes? You know genies don’t exist, right?”

“I’m not stupid,” Beau huffs. “I know genies don’t exist.” He buries his face in his arms and mumbles, “They’re a dragon.”

Pippa stares at him. “Beau.”

“Not like a fire-breathing lizard kind of dragon! Just, like, a normal, human person kind of dragon.”

“Because that’s definitely a thing.”

“Look, I get it. It’s insane.” Beau sits up. “But is it really any worse than all those sleep specialists who told me I just needed to lose weight?”

“B, dragons don’t grant wishes.”

“They do on Dragon Ball Z.”

Pippa sighs. Of course they do.

---

Pippa has known since she was thirteen years old that she was going to die young.

It’s a hard fact to ignore when there are roses growing in her chest, filling the spaces between her ribs with leaves and thorns and petals. The doctors had given her eight years at most before the flowers would crush her heart and puncture her lungs; the florists on Main Street had given her five. Either way, Pippa is living on borrowed time. It bothers her less than people expect.

Beau, on the other hand, has been cursed to a long, albeit uncomfortable, life of sleeplessness. Pippa is pretty sure the years are driving him insane.

They’d met one night during their freshman year of college, the only sober students in a dormitory full of sheltered teenagers who had gotten their first taste of freedom and immediately drunk themselves unconscious. At around 3 am, Pippa had crept down to the student lounge to brew her roommate a cup of tea and found Beau sitting at the counter, staring despondently down at a single melatonin pill cupped in his hands.

“Can’t sleep?” Pippa asked.

Beau looked up dazedly. There were dark bruises under his bloodshot eyes, and his eyelids were swollen and puffy. He winced. “You have no idea.”

“Let me guess: noisy radiator? Roommate who snores?” She raised an eyebrow. “Roommate with an incredibly loud sex life?”

Beau laughed, a dry, breathy kind of chuckle. “I wish. No, I was cursed at birth with one hundred years of insomnia, and it gets pretty creepy watching my roommates sleep.”

Pippa is fairly certain that if Beau had been talking to anyone else, they would have laughed this off as a bad joke, but he was talking to Pippa, and she didn’t. “Cursed?”

Beau hesitated, clearly debating how much he wanted to explain. “I know. It’s stupid.”

This time it was Pippa’s turn to chuckle awkwardly. “Would you believe me if I said I was cursed as a kid, too?”

“Yeah?” Beau leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for her to go on.

Pippa fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt, suddenly self-conscious. “There are roses growing in my chest that are going to kill me one day,” she said.

Beau studied Pippa for a long moment, his dark eyes searching hers. For what, she didn’t know. Eventually, he blinked. “That’s the dumbest curse I’ve ever heard of in my life.”

Pippa frowned. “You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I believe you. I just can’t believe someone cursed you with freaking Hanahaki disease.”

“Great,” Pippa groaned, throwing up her hands. “I finally meet another person who’s been cursed like me, and it turns out he’s a weeb.”

Beau grinned. “The fact that you think I’m talking about manga when I say ‘Hanahaki disease’ makes it pretty clear that you’re a weeb, too, so”—he shrugged—“it takes one to know one, I guess.”

Pippa’s jaw dropped, and she threw a crumpled-up napkin at him in indignation.

Beau batted it away with a laugh and held out a hand. “The name’s Beau,” he said. “Beau Li.”

Pippa shook his hand. His grip was warm, and firm. “Pippa Wei. It’s good to meet you, Beau.”

After that, Pippa and Beau were inseparable. They’re a package deal now—two curses for the price of one.

---

Beau always says that he wishes he could wear his curse as well as Pippa wears hers. Pippa is pretty sure what he means is, I wish I could stop caring about my curse the way you’ve stopped caring about yours.

It’s not an altogether accurate sentiment. In truth, Pippa cares a lot about her curse—how could she not, when it hangs like the sword of Damocles over her head at all times? What she doesn’t actually care about is breaking it, simply because there’s no easy way to break a curse as deep-rooted (ugh) as hers.

Beau disagrees. For the three years that Pippa has known him, Beau has searched relentlessly for a cure to his curse, certain that a viable solution is out there, simply waiting to be found. He’s visited doctors and therapists and specialists of every nature imaginable, drunk tea brewed with hyssop and salt at the direction of new age hippies, sewn poppets of sackcloth and ashes while crammed into the campus cathedral’s musty confessional booth. Pippa always joins him, sitting in on medical appointments and choking down disgusting concoctions of herbs and tepid water that seem more likely to induce diarrhea than they are to break curses, but she does this out of solidarity, not hope, and because traveling across the country with Beau is more fun than doing it alone. Plus, it’s easier to pretend that she isn’t ticking items off of her bucket list when Beau is around to distract her.

Anyways, as far as Pippa is concerned, there’s only one way to break her curse: kill the person who cast it.

Murder aside, it’s an impossible task. Pippa was cursed when she was ten, back when she and her parents had still been living in China. She’d been walking home from school when a man had spit at her feet and called her a name she didn’t understand. Her friends had grabbed her hands, and they’d all sprinted home, but Pippa hadn’t thought much of the incident until years later, when she’d caught a severe bout of pneumonia and the doctors had returned with an x-ray of her lungs in their shaking hands. At that point, she had long since forgotten the face of that man and was living in the States; the chances of her finding, let alone killing, the absolute stranger who had cursed her all those years ago were so slim, they weren’t even worth considering.

She takes some solace, at least, in knowing that once she dies, her curse will rebound back to the person who’d cast it, and then he, too, will die choking on his own blood, his chest filled with stupid, deadly, anime roses.

A life for a life. It’s only fair.

Pippa knows that Beau thinks she’s being too closed-minded, that she isn’t trying hard enough to end her curse. Frankly, Pippa thinks that Beau has been blinded by his own curse, that in his desperation to find a cure, he’s forgotten what it means to live a life, to enjoy living. She told him so during the winter break of their sophomore year, when he’d asked if he could kiss her on New Year’s Eve, in case it turned out to be true love’s kiss.

“Maybe you don’t notice,” she said tightly, “because you have decades to figure out your curse. You have time to hope, and fail, and try again, so these things don’t matter as much. Me? I don’t have forever—I only have now. This life, this moment, this second, this kiss? It’s all I get. I refuse to waste it by obsessing over the time I don’t have, and I refuse to watch you throw away your years just because you have so many. We’re more than just our curses, B.”

Afterwards, he’d apologized and told her that he’d set a deadline for himself, and a promise for her. “If I can’t break my curse before senior year, I’ll stop trying. We can have an entire year to be regular, non-curse-breaking college students, if you’d like.”

Pippa looped her arm with his, grinning. “I would like that very much.”

One year of normalcy with Beau: that’s all Pippa wants. It’s not like she’s expecting to live past senior year, anyways.

---

When Beau’s dragon pulls into the Walmart parking lot, Pippa decides that actually, she is mad, because the person who emerges from the car really does look like a normal, human person kind of dragon. Despite the summer heat, she’s dressed entirely in sleek black leather, and her designer sunglasses fail to hide her cool, cool gaze as she leans against the hood of her car, one foot propped on the bumper. Murky-sweet smoke curls past her lips as she takes a long drag from the cigarette dangling loosely between her fingers, and she raises the same cigarette-wielding hand in a lazy wave to Pippa and Beau.

Beau leans over the center console into the backseat of his car, fishing his great-grandfather’s sword out from underneath an old pile of shopping bags with a sigh. “My mom is going to kill me when she finds out I took this.”

“I don’t think she noticed,” Pippa says, kicking open the passenger-side door. She made sure his mother didn’t, steering her away with questions about the baby photos in the living room while Beau had snuck the sword out of the curio cabinet in the foyer and replaced it with a replica that he’d ordered on Etsy.

“Okay, good.” Beau rolls his shoulders and gets out of the car, shooting Pippa an anxious smile as they make their way over to the dragon. “Last time’s the charm, right?”

Pippa bumps his shoulders with her own. “Whatever you say.”

There is very little fanfare to the exchange: Beau hands the sword over, and the dragon—who doesn’t offer a name—inspects it silently, examining the curve of the blade, the weight of the pommel, the way it sings as it is unsheathed from its scabbard.

With a curt nod, the dragon produces a thick envelope of cash. “Six hundred dollars, as we agreed.”

Beau rubs the back of his neck. “Actually, I was hoping to discuss alternative forms of payment with you,” he says.

Pippa can’t help herself. “You sound like you’re soliciting her for sex, B.”

Beau flushes. “You know that’s not what I meant!”

There’s a long moment of silence as the Dragon exhales slowly, milky-white smoke undulating lethargically before her face. “You want a wish,” she says finally.

“Yes,” comes Beau’s reply.

“Name it.”

“Break our curses.”

Pippa frowns. Our? She hadn’t realized that she would be a part of Beau’s wish, too.

The dragon laughs and flicks her cigarette to the ground, the end still glowing faintly against the asphalt. “That’s two wishes. You have one sword; you get one wish.”

Pippa rolls her eyes and grabs Beau’s arm. “This is ridiculous. Make your wish and let’s go—I don’t have time for these games.”

Beau shakes her off, his eyes never leaving the dragon’s. His jaw twitches, and Pippa’s eyes narrow, but before she can say anything, he points at her and says, “Break her curse.”

“Absolutely not.” The words are out of Pippa’s mouth before she’s finished processing what Beau’s just done, and then she turns on him, fury sparking in her eyes. “I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again: I am not interested in breaking my own curse.”

“But I am.” Beau takes a step toward her, holding his open palms out. “I know you don’t have much time left, Pip, and I’ve tried to come to terms with that, I really have—but I can’t. I’ve got a hundred years of this stupid, sleepless life to live, and I can’t do the next seventy-eight without you. I can’t.”

Pippa shakes her head, wrapping her arms around herself. “You can’t break my curse this way.”

“So then there’s nothing to lose if I try.”

“That sword belongs to you. Use the wish on yourself.”

Beau lifts his chin. “No.” What he means is please.

Pippa takes a shaky breath. She’s stubborn, but Beau is stubborn, too. “Fine,” she snaps. “Do whatever you want.”

What she means is thank you.

What she means is I’m sorry.

What she means is fuck you.

What she means is I love you.

Beau turns back to the dragon. “Break her curse,” he says again.

The dragon smiles with every one of her teeth, her ancient eyes glinting with triumph. “No,” she says, puffing a cloud of smoke into Beau’s face that reeks of sulfur. “You break it.”

#writeblr #writers #my writing #short story #reimagined fairy tale #sleeping beauty #trying out some more ya-style contemporary fantasy #title is pulled from disney's sleeping beauty (1959)#the full quote is #the years roll by #but a hundred years to a steadfast heart are but a day #(yes there are a bunch of sleeping beauty references in here)#long post

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