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wendystales · 3 years ago

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Memories - lrh (Chapter Thirteen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Twelve ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Fourteen

I position myself in the center of the panel, making the 104th pose that morning. Brandon guides me from one shot to the next, making everything easier.

Six makeups. Six hairstyles. Six changes of clothes, even though the focus was on my face. Why did I get into this?

The photo shoot was for a cosmetics brand, for which I was the cover girl. It wasn't a 7-headed bug, as I had been thinking all night, which resulted in an irritating insomnia. And even though I arrived shy and lost, when I saw my look all produced, I felt like a great hottie, which gave me the confidence to go to that studio and rock.

I was having fun, as Leah advised me. I threw my hair, made faces and danced. I shifted my attention between Brandon's camera and my cell phone, where Nico, one of the helpers, was filming behind the scenes and stirring up my social medias.

It's fun, but after the fourth change of clothes, I was exhausted. After all, that spotlight doesn't leave me and the light gets too hot.

“For you.” Nico hands me a pink lilies bouquet. I open a smile, confused.

The team that was with me today, the agency, the brand and my parents had already sent me some bouquets earlier today, congratulating me and celebrating my return to the fashion world. So whose would it be?

I hunt for the card, opening it in a rush. Nico rested his head on my shoulder, wanting to read along with me. The handwriting didn't make me doubt, they were Luke's.

“To make your day more beautiful.

Congratulations on your return.

Love, Hemmo.”

I open a smile completely shaken by that. I burst out laughing when I see under his name “and the rest of 5sos” written in a different hand.

I ask Nico to take a picture of me with the flowers and send it to him, who quickly responds with a Petunia figure with heart eyes. I know I need to drop the bouquet and go back to the photos, but it feels so difficult.

Finally, I leave the flowers to the dressing room and I focus myself. Brandon praises my goofy smile and begs me to keep it up.

I knew everyone wanted to come today and watch the photo shoot, but I begged so hard not to. If without anyone I was already terrified of, seeing everyone there, staring at me, I wouldn't leave the dressing room.

[...]

Leah and Kiki were at my house, getting ready for Ashton's birthday, and of course, to gossip. They were both super curious to know how my first shoot was and how I was feeling.

besides telling about work, I comment about Luke's flowers and, finally, I tell about yesterday's dreams that still haven't left my head, taking root in my mind, blooming when I least expect it and leaving me out of breath.

“Oh, you naughty one!” Hastings tosses me the pillow. "Are you going to tell him?" she sits up in bed.

“No! How do I tell this?” I question, not understanding.

“Luke, I remembered when we were like two pervert rabbits and we were always having sex in the corners. Simple.” Kiki shrugs, going back to making up her eyes.

“Kiki!" I reprimand her. I hide my face, laughing embarrassed. "We weren't like that…I think…were we?" I look quickly at both of them.

Kiki looks at Leah, holding back her laughter. The brunette stares at me in disbelief. Oh my God, we were! It takes time to sink in, because with Stephen, I avoided sex at all costs. It was so cold and awkward, that most of the time I was bruised and, in all cases, unfulfilled.

I remember the touch of the dream and how it felt so soft and intense, and so good. However, I still find it hard for me to have been so turned on that I started having sex everywhere.

“Are you sure?” I ask suspiciously.

"Oh, honey! I will have to tell you about my dad's birthday, have I?" Leah hugs me, making Kiki laugh.

"What about your father's birthday?" the same way I was feared of Luke when he started telling me about the day I threw up at his feet, I get with Leah.

“Well, it was my dad's 50th birthday. A big, big party and of course I invited all of you. We had just got back from Milan, you were away from Luke for a couple of weeks, so you’re kinda getting crazy by missing him.

"Make it crazy." Kiki comments.

“The plan was for us to arrive in the morning, you'd have time to see each other, and then in the evening we would go to the party. But our flight was delayed and you didn't have that time. So you decided to open the bathroom.” Leah gives a fake smile.

I took a few seconds to understand, and then I widen my eyes, wanting to sink into the ground. I can't believe we did this.

“Calm down! She didn’t told the best part”. Kiki leaves the bathroom, joining us.

“Oh, that's cool, is there a better part?” I look at them both desperately.

"Of course, there is a best part. Leah escorting you guys out of the bathroom" Kiki throws herself on the bed, laughing. “Oh God! Your faces were the best.”

“Was after that our friendship beat all the limits and you know, we got really close.” Leah smiles to me.

What was my problem? Oh Lord, I never, ever, in my all life, thought I'd give one of those. If anyone asked me, who would be most likely to do this, I would definitely say Leah, Kiki, and even Bethany, but I would never say my name.

What did Luke do to me?!

I look at my friends, shocked. They both start laughing, amused by my reaction. A few seconds later, I give up, starting to laugh too.

"Is there any other similar situation that I should know about?" I inquire with fear.

"Yes, but we don't have time right now." Kiki gets up from the bed, slapping my foot, asking me to get ready.

We turned on the music and continued to get ready. Leah goes down to the kitchen, returning with three beers. The subject changes and we start to gossip.

After hours of producing us, I come down wearing my silver sequin jacket, finding Leah with another beer in her hand.

“Well? Good? Great?” I take a stroll, showing off the leather pants and black tank top that valued my tattoo.

"I definitely would ask for your number!" she replies, making me smile.

"Do you think people will like it? I mean, isn’t that much?” I stop in a few poses while she watches me.

“Rephrase the question.” she leans against the table. I stare at her without understanding. “What you want to know is whether Luke will like it." I open my mouth a few times.

“Perhaps.” I answer softly. Hastings snorts, hiding her face.

“You two should pay for my therapy. Because it's not easy to take it.” she takes a deep breath.

I give a guilty smile. I head to the bar, grabbing a shot of tequila and flipping it quickly. I would find Luke in a few minutes and I still don't know how to face him. I close my eyes, letting the alcohol burn my throat and warm my body, along with the memories. The flashes come back to my mind, clear as water. I can hear the girls' voices again, telling them about Mr. Hastings' 50th birthday.

“Let's go?” Kiki's scream brings me back. Standing near the door, they wait for me to down another shot of tequila before we go.

Along the way, we took several photos, already moving our social medias. At the door of the restaurant, the swarm of paparazzi was already in place and as soon as we got off the car, they surrounded us. Hands and arms linked, the three of us entered, being saved by the huge walls that didn't let them see anything that happened inside.

We went to the back of the restaurant, in a more reserved space, where a long table took up half the back wall. Right away I spot Luke, laughing as he chats with Jack and another guy I don't recognize. I analyze your look, social pants and a black t-shirt.

How can someone look so beautiful, so simple?

I swallow hard when he notices our approach and looks directly at me. I look away, unable to hold on; the images screamed in my mind.

Irwin approaches, already quite excited, trying to hug the three of us at the same time. When Leah and Kiki go to greet the other guests, I calmly hug my best friend, congratulating him once more.

“Make yourself comfortable and behave” he leaves a kiss on my forehead, going to welcome other guests who have just arrived.

I turn in time to see Hemmings approaching, one glass in his hand and the other in his pants pocket. How? I hold my breath, giving a terrified smile. He opens his smile even more.

“Hey!” he says excitedly, close enough for me to hear. Those lips… what have they done… I close my eyes quickly, shutting my mind.

“Hey!” I answer awkwardly.

“How are you doing?” he hugged me, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. I close my eyes again, feeling it radiate with amazing speed throughout my body. I let out a breath in a sigh. I manage to catch his eyes as he walks away, hiding a more mischievous smile.

“Well!” my cheeks catch fire and the jacket starts to bother me. "Thanks for the flowers earlier today." I thank, while Luke leads me to the bar. His hand firmly on my waist reminds me of that hotel room. I bite my lip, holding back the urge to bang my head on the counter. "A shot of tequila." I ask desperately.

Luke raises his eyebrows in surprise but says nothing. I turn it over without a single thought, asking for another one, just in case. The heat that spreads through my body is the result of three doses ingested. I take off my jacket and, through the bar mirrors, I see Luke shamelessly sweep my body.

“It was nothing!” he says after clearing his throat. "I'm glad you liked it. So, how was your first shoot?” he leans his elbow on the counter, propping his head on his hand, visually interested.

The effect of the alcohol starts to kick in, and so I feel lighter in his presence, not bothering with the memories between the two of us, nor the fanciful situations that my mind starts to create. I tell about the rehearsal and how fun it really was to do it. In the middle of the answer, I get enthusiastic, telling everything in minute detail. Luke looks at me smiling and interested, without interrupting me.

“I’m sorry!” I cover my eyes, laughing. “I'm talking too much.”

A few more people had already arrived, but the two of us were still there, sitting at the bar. The most interesting thing was, everyone who arrived didn't dare come here and interrupt us.

“No! I love hearing you talk.” he smiles before taking another sip of gin. I lower my gaze, totally ashamed.

"I think we'd better go sit down." I comment, seeing everyone settling into their chairs.

“Let's go?” he offers his hand, helping me off the stool. I hold into his arm, walking to the table. "Should I keep an eye on you today?" he laughs. I repress the urge to say yes, but that's not the answer to his question.

“No! I won't drink that much.” I press my lips together in a thin line, embarrassed by Ash's party.

We sat next to each other, with Calum and Noah in front of us. Luke leans his arm on the back of my chair and I'm not shy about getting close to him, even with everyone in our group staring at us curiously. We embarked on a lively conversation with everyone around us.

Michael rushes in and apologizes for being late, taking his seat next to Hemmings.

"Was she with her?" I hear Luke ask, taking my full attention.

“Yep!” Mike gives a shy smile.

“Who she?” I almost walk through the body of the australian beside me, wanting to get close to Mike.

“Nobody special.” he shrugs.

“Yeah! Go for it.” Hemmo lets go, laughing. Michael slaps him on the head.

“It's nobody special. Just a friend. I swear!" he closes the matter, but he doesn't convince me.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about it." I whisper, complaining to the blonde at my side.

“Sorry, there was no time. Also, I didn't even know it could lead to anything.” he shrugs. I stare Luke, waiting him to continue, but he is easily distracted by the napkin holder. I slap his head like Mike. “Ouch! What was it?” he looks at me shocked.

“Tell me!” Luke turns to face me, rolling his eyes.

“Her name is Sophie. They met at a Fortnite stream. She beat him and he went to congratulate her on the match, so they started talking and apparently it’s hitting something.” Luke shrugs, finishing the story.

“This is so cute. I hope it works!” I see Michael laughing over Luke's shoulder. “Is she pretty?” I question.

“This is a dangerous question.” I look back at him, confused. "Is there a chance you slap me?" I laugh.

"No." I don't get why I would hit him for finding someone pretty.

“She is pretty!" I hit him. “Hey! You said I wouldn't be hitten.” he accuses me.

“Sorry, it's just funny.” I defend myself by laughing. Luke turns forward, annoyed. I wrap my arm around his, which were on the table and come closer, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Are you going to be mad at me?" I question laughing.

"And I can do it?" he turns to me. His eyes drop to my lips and mine to yours. It would be a perfect time for a kiss, but I don't feel comfortable with all these looks on us.

Hemmo seems to understand my internal battle and just leaves a kiss on my forehead. I open a grateful smile and once again guide my attention to the conversation between Noah and Brian.

After a couple of hours of eating and drinking. We started to spread out through space, forming several conversation circles. I was having a blast with everyone. We sing, dance and record videos that we'll definitely regret later.

After starting to eat, I stopped drinking alcohol, after all, trauma still reigns inside me. So I wouldn't feel like the only sober one at the party, Hemmings decided to join me, stopping drinking too.

Relieved, of course, is the word to describe this night with him. I thought it would be hard to look at it with everything I remembered, but it was so light and fun, I admit I freaked out over nothing. As usual!

All through dinner, I try not to pay too much attention to everyone's eyes on us. We simply could not do anything that someone just needed to die of love. Luke was amused, while I just wanted to sink into the ground.

Yes, I may have had a clue as to how much I feel about Luke, but I still want to take it easy. I want to be sure, and for that, I need to stop being afraid. I know he's been realizing how I've changed and I'm letting him get closer and closer.

Our kisses, touches and smiles. Everything is falling into place and the fact that he doesn't put pressure on me helps me a lot. I already totally trust him, it just makes stronger.

Considering it was easy to stay close to him, without letting the shame take me, I didn't pull him away for a second, because most of the time he pulled me along and I liked that. I like being close to him.

“One round. Just one round.” Jack pleads, hands clasped under his chest.

“No! I've had too much today.” Luke denies it again, making his friend fake a dramatic cry.

"You drank when you arrived. A beer and a shot of gin. That's nothing.”

“I'll drive later and I'm keeping Marnie company.” he squeezes me tighter to his chest.

"Can't you drink?" Jack looks at me confused.

“Of course I can, I just don't want to, you know, make a scene. Or something like that.” I shrug. Jack rolls his eyes, turning back to Luke.

“One round.” he begs, making me laugh.

The boys were preparing a round of Answer or Drink with 10 different types of drink. So, they played and still got drunk.

“No!” Luke responds with a laugh.

For a few seconds, I leave the two of them arguing and go to the table to get my coat. With the lack of alcohol, I start to feel the cold of the air conditioning. On my way to the table, a voice stops me.

“Look what a wonderful surprise.” I turn quickly, feeling all the blood freeze through my body. "What a coincidence, isn't it?" I watch his smirk, knowing what his presence there would do.

“What are you doing here, Stephen?” I take a breath deep, controlling the urge to fly at him. Just like I did with Pam.

It's the first time we've seen each other since the diary report and I couldn't feel more disgust and loathing.

“It's a public place, Lizzie, and don't worry, I didn't come chasing you. I'm with friends.” he points to a table. “I just came to say hello.”

“Don't call me Lizzie, you know I hate it and why don't you take your fake education and stick it in your…”

“What are you doing here?” Luke walks past me, coming face to face with Stephen. "I already told you to stay away from her."

Soon, all the boys approach, ready to intervene. I grab his arm, trying to keep him close to me.

“Let him.” I beg, not wanting it to explode in the middle of the restaurant.

“Calm down, Hemmings.” the name comes out acid and full of poison. “I just came to say hello to Lizzie.” he laughs, hands in his pockets. "Don't worry, I'm not kissing her."

I close my eyes, feeling that hit both of us. That's low, very low. Luke steps forward, taking me with him. Noah and Jack are already starting to put their hands between them. Ash, Mike and Calum begin to put their hands on their friend's shoulders, pulling him along.

“Do not worry. I'm not going to spend my time punching him. But I'll just say one thing, Stephen.” he uses the same acid tone to say his name. "In case you're still dumb enough not to understand. It’s over! What you and Marnie had is over! So stop coming after her, because she doesn't want anything to do with you. She is with me.”

His tone of voice and body postureme impress. I've never seen Luke like this, so nervous, holding back so he doesn't explode, the veins in his neck bulging, proving how much he's controlling himself. I tighten your arm more tightly around my body. I bring my hand down until it's entwined with his, deceptively hoping that it will calm him down and bring him back to me.

“Funny. Cause from what I heard, you guys broke up, didn't you? What? You couldn’t stood the cheat?” he laughs, like he's made a great joke.

I don't know if he intended to hit Luke again, but without realizing it the words hit me. My blood boils and the words written in my diary take shape in my mind. Damn imagination.

I let go of my hand, putting myself in front of Stephen, who takes a step back. His gaze, full of curiosity and mockery, fixes on me.

“That’s enough, Stephen! I don't care about you. Pretend I never called you, just like I was before the accident and disappear from my life. I know you cheated on me and I don't want this torment in my life anymore. Go away.” I let go of everything contained, trying not to fly off his neck.

"Are you really going to believe their bullshit?" Stephen crosses his arms.

“Nobody had to tell me. I remembered." I see his eyes lose their mocking sparkle and he lose confidence. It's a lie, but he don't need to know. “There are at least twenty people here and they all want to hit you, including me, who wouldn't mind breaking my cast on your head. So if you don't want to get out of here on a stretcher, get out!”

I take a step back, feeling my heart pound and trying my best to keep myself from crying. Luke's agitated breath pulses against my spine. I lean against him, feeling his hand intertwine with mine, squeezing it delicately. Amazing how I feel safer, just with that touch.

Stephen passes his eyes around everyone and walks away without saying anything else. When his body pulls away, I release all the air I didn't even know I was holding. The boys start telling us to go back to the table.

I turn, pulling Luke, who is still standing there, facing my ex, who is sitting at the table with a group of friends. He turns around, pulling me easily into his arms. His hands tighten around my waist and I feel him exhale against my neck, giving me goose bumps. I stroke the back of his neck, trying to calm him down and show him that everything is fine.

We walked back to the table, striving for the mood from before. Ashton orders his birthday cake and we ourselves lull into the music, excited, mocking Irwin. While we devoured the cake, no one broaches the subject and I thanks for that. I know Hemmings and I will probably talk about it, but I don't want to involve the guys in this.

Gossip reigns at the table again. The entire group is engaged in conversation about the most disastrous trips ever made, minus the blonde and me. I watch him with his jaw still set and his gaze filled with rage, fixed directly on Stephen, who is across the room, staring at me.

It's a cycle: Luke stares at Stephen, who stares at me, while I stare at Luke.

I feel terrible for making him go through all of this. My amnesia, our breakup, my ex's return. Lucas doesn't deserve any of this. I need to reward him, but how?

“Hey!” I whisper, resting my chin on his bicep, but he doesn't hear me. "I want to leave, will you take me?" I question, hoping to gain any sign of him.

He looks at me nonchalantly, then blinks back to reality. Luke stares at the bleached on the other side, wanting to see if he's still trying something. I drop a small kiss on his shoulder, gaining his attention again.

“Of course! Let's go?” I nod, getting up.

Nobody is opposed to our leaving, I believe as much because of what happened as because it was the two of us. We walked across the room hand in hand, and with me clutching his arm, just to make sure he didn't fly into someone.

But I need to remember that Luke is just as classy as I am. Not just for the fame or the spectacle it would be, but because he was brought up that way. Educated not to go into violence, even if there was someone on the other side who deserved to be slapped.

I'm scared by the frantic flashes that start to pop when they notice the two of us. I cling closer to Luke, who makes room for his car. The delay for the questions to start is just for them to reason that it was the two of us there, together, after announcing our break up.

I keep my head down, focused on his thumb moving up and down, stroking my skin. Luke opens the car door and I settle in, still feeling the flashbulbs burst above us.

With great difficulty, we got out of that sea of people. We remained silent until we reached the intersection of the main lane that led to my house.

“Do you want to go home?” he asks, softly.

I can't identify any feelings in your voice. He is neutral, indifferent. Apart from the isolated fact, this night has been amazing and I don't want it to end, not in this mood.

“No!” I turn in the seat, facing him. "Isn't there anywhere I'd love to go? Or that we both went a lot?” for the first time, I see a glint run through his eyes.

“Yeah! In fact, there are two.” he cracks a smile, causing me to smile too.

Luke takes the other path, heading to some place I couldn't even imagine. The subject comes up between us and so the mood softens. As we talk, I list a number of places I've always liked in Los Angeles, wanting to guess where it would take me.

We turn onto Wilshire Boulevard and I guess where we're going. Hemmo parks his car near the Urban Light and I look forward to getting out of the car.

Before we exit the vehicle, he pulls two caps from the glove compartment, giving me a dark gray one. I look at that accessory, wondering if it was always mine, if we always wore it when we went out.

“Why am I not impressed that this would be the first place?” I question, holding his hand.

By the time, the sculpture was a little empty, with only a few couples taking pictures. Luke and I went unnoticed, walking between those huge poles.

We walked around, with me admiring those lighted poles. I've always liked this sculpture, I've always found it romantic because so many people are proposed here, and I love the lighting.

“Oh no!” I push Luke, finding your phone pointed at me.

"This one got blurry." he laments, pointing again.

“Luke!” I exclaim laughing. I try not to scream so as not to draw attention to both of us.

“Sorry about my behavior at the restaurant.” Hemmings says after a while, surprising me. I lean against a pole, watching him.

“Why are you apologizing?” I frown. Luke leans against the same post, shrugging.

"I didn't mean to spoil your night." he answers.

“You didn't! If there is one responsible, it is him! Stephen knows he shouldn't have shown up there.” I comfort him.

His blue eyes meet mine. I take a step toward him, standing on tiptoe, reaching for his lips, leaving a simple kiss there. Without pulling away completely, I see a goofy smile appear on his face, which also appears on mine.

"What's our second place?" I whisper, next to him.

“My bed.” he lets go.

“Lucas!” I push him away, laughing again. His laugh is contagious. If he knew about the memories…

“Just kidding." Uh-hm… "Ready to get full of sand?" he asks, holding out his hand.

“Always!” I grabbed, leaning my head on his arm as we made our way to the car.

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peakyxtommy · 4 years ago

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Last First Birthdays

Summary: Tommy & you celebrating your last child’s first birthday. You’re sad that the kids are growing up. Tommy provides a listening ear.

Warnings: All Pure Fluff, slight mention of birth/pre-term labor.

A/N: I am not a doctor, but did do some research. Enjoy, I loved writing this. Soft Tommy & Tommy with kids is my forever weakness.

Word Count: 2.4K

Today was a special day. Your last born was having his first birthday today. Attius James Shelby.

“Look at the birthday boy.” You coo, your fingers patting your son’s stomach as he releases a small squeal, happy to see your face. He had just awoken from his pre-party nap.

You dressed him in his 1st birthday onesie, khaki shorts, and clipped his pacifier to his top, which would come in handy later. His little blue orbs stare into your eyes, as you stand him up on his changing table, before lifting him into your arms.

“Let’s go find your dad and siblings.” You peck his forehead, brushing your hand over his brown curly locks. You walk down the stairs, to see the hustle and bustle of the last minute platters of food and drinks being placed.

You walk into the living room to see Henry, your eldest son reading a book on the couch. Lydia, your second child with cards in her hands, slapping one down against the carpet. While Tom sits on the floor with Maeve, your third child, assisting her while laughing at something she says.

“Who’s ready for the birthday boy?” You speak gaining their attention.

“Me! I can’t wait for cake.” Lydia screams with excitement causing Maeve to scrunch her face up in annoyance at her sister.

“I am going to play with Jonas. He’s bringing his new card game over.” Henry responds, closing his book.

“Mummy we sing for Atty, right.” Maeve asks, calling her brother by his nickname, not able to pronounce his full name.

“Yes we will sing and have one slice of cake each. I will be watching.” You wag your finger playfully at Lydia. All the while your husband sits with a smirk on his face, his eyes fully enticed with yours. The doorbell rings, causing the kids to scramble to greet their family and poor Tom left with cleaning up the card game, but it wasn’t new to him with a house with four kids.

“Looks like you need some help Mr. Shelby. Bones of yours are getting old.” You tease, earning an eye roll, as he leans himself gently into you, as your free hand helps him off the floor.

“Keep it up while it lasts, you are right behind me.” He chuckles pulling you into his side. “You look lovely, dress suits you well. Always a beaut.”

“Why thank you, my love.” Your lips press against his cheek.

“Let’s go birthday lad, we have to spend time with our crazy family.” You laugh as he takes your son from your arms, fingers entwined with yours as you make your way to the backyard. - The party was a smash. It was an overall great day with your’s and Tommy’s family and a few close friends. You hoped Tom was able to get Lydia to bed because she had a sweet tooth almost as bad as you, knowing someone gave that girl a second piece of cake (John), which was more unnecessary sugar the girl needed in her system, hoping she wouldn’t have a stomach ache from all the treats today.

Atticus enjoyed being passed around, trying cake for the first time, and being more interested in the wrapping paper than the presents. You took enough photos to last a lifetime.

As you rock your son asleep in his rocker you mind couldn’t help but think back to what a year it had really been since he was brought into the world, a miracle really. You couldn’t take your eyes off the photos you would switch out periodically (as you took new ones) around his bedroom. Keeping the same ones you took of him when he was just born, when he arrived home, family photos throughout the year. The images floating in your head. The memories forever imprinted in your mind.

He was born eight weeks early in September.This pregnancy came as a surprise as you and Tommy weren’t expecting to have any more as your hands were full with three kids already. You both weren’t getting any younger.

When you told your husband the news, he took it in stride, telling you how excited he was, despite the chaos of his world around you. All your pregnancies so far were a breeze but this one was stressful. Tommy tried his best to be home, get extra help around the home with the children, and get your older two children to be more helpful when possible.

Your water broke 8 weeks early and you had to have an emergency c-section. Tom was by your side through it all panicking on the inside but putting a brave front on for you. He wheeled you to the NICU to see your small infant son with tubes hooked up to him. Learning how to connect with him through the two small holes of the incubator. That was the start of a journey, for the family.

It definitely put a strain on your marriage of having Tommy balance work, the kids, and taking time visiting the hospital and helping you recover. Both your families provided as much support as possible. The car ride home was nerve wracking having to remember all this information and doing this without the help of the nurses.

Atticus settled in pretty quick to the environment and his siblings who would come to say goodnight to their little brother. It would be hard to sleep during the night with either one of always getting up to check on him, even if he was just sleeping peacefully. He was a little behind his milestones which was to be expected but each step of the way was worth it. He was growing healthily, was able to say little phrases, and was getting closer to walking. He was the calmest out of all your children and easy going.

Your heart was happy to celebrate his first birthday. All your children’s birthdays made you emotional, as you knew they weren’t going to stay young - little - forever. As much as you both wanted them to. This one was the last first birthday you were going to celebrate, as you weren’t planning on having anymore children. Atticus like the rest of your kids were going to grow on their way to independence and need you less and less. You knew you had to let them find their way in this beautiful but cruel world.

“Knew I'd find you in here.” His voice brings comfort to your heart as he whispers to you in the dim lighting across the room, opening the door, just leaving it cracked a bit.

“The rest of the crew are finally to bed and remind me to slap John on the back of his head the next time I spot him for giving Lydia a second piece of cake.” His head shakes with a roll of the eyes as he paces across the floor, to take half a seat on the arm of the rocking chair. You can’t help the smile that plays on your lips.

“Those two are as thick as thieves, poor lad can never say no to her. Spoils her rotten, like the rest of your siblings do to all our kids.” You reply knowing all the Shelby siblings loved all your children equally, each one having similarities to them all, but knew which children brought a weakness or were closer to their uncles/aunt.

It’s quiet for a moment, just the two of you, staring at your sleeping son in your arms. “You know he’s not going anywhere, none of them are. They’re always going to need you, need us. Hell, even I'll need you when I'm old and grey.” His lips peck the top of your head, fingers squeezing your shoulder with gentle reassurance.

He knew you like the back of his hand. His words rang true in your mind and heart, knowing this wasn’t the first time he found you in this spot, with the same thoughts, that come along with parenthood.

You wanted old and grey with Tom, you wanted to believe in it, even though you both knew it wasn’t promised not in his world especially. You were blessed with him thus far, this man aged like fine wine the older he got. You could tell he was getting older in trying to keep up with the energy of the kids, the glasses you adored, and the crow’s feet that was starting to make an appearance.

“I know, just working myself up over the small things. I know we don’t have to worry but I do. Just want to make sure everything will go right. Henry is going to be a teen soon, that boy is too smart for his own good. Lydia is just as stubborn as you are and free-spirited but reminds me of you. Maeve is sweet and our little helper, she’s only just started preschool. Both of them wrapped around your finger in different ways.

I accepted it then in my mind after Maeve but then Atticus came along. I think about the what if’s of that day, the weeks passed, but then I'm reminded of today. How it all feels right and complete. It all goes by so fast, I just want to hold on to this moment, ya know.”

He listens to your continuous thought, walking through it as you speak your mind. You were a deep thinker and took everything to heart because you cared so much. It was the little things that added up. That made life sweeter than the grand things. That was one of the things he loved the most about you, the thing that attracted him from the very beginning of your relationship. He doesn’t miss the quiet tears that release gently out your eyes, the smallness of your wet voice.

He knows what you mean because he has the same thoughts, even though he doesn’t always share them. He has enough nerves for his lifetime and lines in his forehead to prove it.

Henry the eldest reminded him of the earlier years of your relationship. Young, in love, just starting out. The excitement of your first born. He knew after Henry was born, he would do everything in his power to stay alive. He was smart, a leader, and enjoyed spending time with his cousins. He was a younger version of himself, but better. He was glad for it.

Lydia came a few years later and she took his heart when his blue eyes met her brown ones. She was a handful from the start (she was definitely his daughter). She reminded him of Ada in her sass and the mouth on her but also John as she was the child that brought the most laughter and entertainment to the family as she was extroverted. They would enjoy being silly together and tease you to no end.

Maeve was like you in all ways, sweet, loving, and ready to help the best way a 4 year old can. She was a shy girl but was definitely a daddy’s girl. Always searching for him when he was away or would try to sweet talk her way to stay up to see him before bed or read her an extra story. Would make herself comfortable in his home office to play with her toys or find a way to sit on his lap as he did paperwork. She would always ask him the sweetest of things or most serious things, trusting whatever answer left his mouth. He had the hardest time telling her no.

Atticus came as a surprise but in the best of ways. His birth changed something within him. Thomas Shelby wasn’t a religious man by any means, but when he watched his son get wheeled away by the nurses and was watching him through the big glass window the first few hours of his life, he prayed hard for the first time, in a long time, since he was 18. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing a child, let alone losing you.

He remembers your tears as he wheeled you to meet your son for the first time. Him reassuring you and himself, that it was all going to be okay. It was this child that made him slow down the most and rethink his priorities, putting them in check once again. These past two years were hard business and family wise. Managing the logistics of expanding and meetings, risky deals/death threats, raising 4 kids, with two under the age of 5 and in need of constant attention.

Handling the nerves of it all, your/his moods, and the tiffs you both would get in due to sleep deprivation, late nights working, stubbornness on both ends, or just not having a minute alone together or for intimacy. Moments like these, in the quiet night of his home with you and the children at peace made it worth every minute of the day. Made him want to be around even longer, even though it wasn’t necessarily promised.

“I do too love, I know.” His fingers brush the sleeping infant’s cheeks, watching as he snuggles subconsciously closer in your arms. He knew he didn’t have to say much because in that small phrase communicated all you needed to know, to hear. The both you could read one another like a book where it speaks for itself.

“Come let’s get to bed.” He hums, blue eyes shimmering with affection, as his lips turn upward in one of your favorite smiles, reserved just for you. His soft lips press against yours lightly into just a small peck. The pads of his soft fingers, brushing against your wet cheeks to collect this remainder of the tears. He stands to his feet, holding the chair still as you get up to place your son into his crib.

“Goodnight, sweet Atticus. We love you.” You whisper, feeling the warmth of Tommy wrap around your frame, chin resting on your shoulder, fingers tangling together, bands touching as you both stare down at your sleeping son.

You knew that everything was going to be okay. Even though you weren’t going to be celebrating anymore first birthdays in your household, you knew every birthday after would still be as special as the last one. You always made sure of it as you loved celebrating birthdays as much as holidays. You had all you needed within yourself, the man you loved dearly, and the four sleeping children you called your own.

#peaky blinders #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #modern thomas shelby #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #soft tommy #fluff #peaky blinders fanfiction

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animated-happy-birthday-ecard · 10 months ago

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Elevating Digital Greetings: The Rise of Short Animated Birthday Cards

In an era where digital communication reigns supreme, the traditional birthday card is undergoing a digital makeover. With the advent of short animated cards, sending birthday wishes has become more dynamic, personal, and engaging than ever before.

Gone are the days of static images and generic messages. Animated birthday cards offer a unique opportunity to convey sentiments in a lively and captivating manner. Whether it's a playful animation of balloons floating across the screen, a charming character dancing with joy, or a heartfelt message accompanied by animated fireworks, these cards add an extra layer of excitement to the birthday celebration.

One of the key advantages of short animated birthday cards is their ability to capture attention in a world inundated with information. In a matter of seconds, these animations can convey warmth, humor, or affection, making them perfect for our fast-paced digital age. Moreover, their visual appeal makes them highly shareable across social media platforms, allowing birthday greetings to reach a wider audience and amplify the joyous occasion.

Another benefit of animated birthday cards is their versatility. With a plethora of designs and themes available, senders can choose the perfect animation that reflects the recipient's personality and interests. Whether it's a cute animal-themed card for a friend who loves pets or a glamorous Hollywood-inspired card for a movie buff, there's something for everyone in the world of animated greetings.

Furthermore, animated birthday cards offer a level of customization that traditional paper cards simply cannot match. With the ability to add personalized messages, names, and even photos, senders can create a truly one-of-a-kind greeting that speaks directly to the recipient's heart. This personal touch enhances the emotional connection between sender and recipient, making the birthday wishes even more meaningful.

From a practical standpoint, short animated cards also offer eco-friendly benefits. By eliminating the need for paper, ink, and transportation, they contribute to the reduction of waste and environmental impact associated with traditional paper cards. Additionally, they can be sent instantly via email or messaging apps, saving time and resources compared to mailing physical cards.

In conclusion, the rise of short animated birthday cards represents a modern evolution of the traditional greeting card industry. With their vibrant animations, personalized touch, and eco-friendly appeal, these digital greetings are reshaping the way we celebrate birthdays in the digital age. As we continue to embrace technology in our daily lives, animated cards offer a delightful and convenient way to spread birthday cheer to our loved ones near and far.

#happy birthday #birthday #happy birthday to myself #gif

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thatesqcrush · 4 years ago

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All Circuits Busy

Bryan Kneef x Reader. Dirty talk square for my kink bingo card. CW: well, it’s lots of dirty talk, male and female masturbation, degradation language. Another little one-shot off my Fall From Grace Series. Timeline wise, it would be around ch. 9, but can be read as a standalone.

WC: 1678

Bryan was surprised to see the small brown box from Molly’s Cupcakes on his desk. He opened the box and was greeted with six chocolate cupcakes with sprinkles on them. Taped to the inner box was a card. He ran his finger through the chocolate frosting of one cupcake before sucking it off his finger. “Mmm.” He hummed as the rich frosting coated his tongue. He picked up the accompanying card and opened it.

Happy Birthday to my ornery asshole (but you’re my asshole & don’t you forget it. Love you) -Y/N

Bryan let out a small chuckle before picking up his phone and dialing your number.

“Pearson Specter. Y/N speaking.” You balanced the phone between your ear and shoulder as you finished electronically filing your motion. ��How did you know?” Bryan asked into the receiver. He sat reclined in his chair as he swung his legs up onto his desk. You paused and then sat up fully, making sure to hold the phone correctly. “Your birthday?” You questioned, furrowing your brows. You leaned over to grab a pen, to sign off on a package that arrived. You tossed the package to the side, not bothering to see who it was from. “I don’t think I ever told you.” Bryan replied. “I have my sources.” You chuckled. “Oh so you admit that you have Bryan Kneef Google alert.” You laughed. “Could you be more full of yourself?” “No, but you could be full of me. And you will be, this weekend.” You rolled your eyes, before letting out a deep sigh. You knew you were about to disappoint him. “Bry, bad news.” Bryan let out his own sigh. “You’re not going to make it out to Chicago then, are you?”

“I am working on a merger and it needs to be wrapped up or Harvey Specter is going to have my hide. I need to be here. I’m sorry.” You explained sorrowfully. “I get it.” “I’ll make it up to you.” You promised. “You can make it up to me... now.” Bryan murmured. Wild, lascivious thoughts ran through his mind. He stood up and walked over to his office door and shut it.

“I’m at work.” You warned, having an inkling as to what he was proposing. “That’s never stopped you before.” Bryan retorted. You bit your lip, feeling your internal resolve crumble. “Hold on. Let me switch to wireless.” You stood and closed the door to your office, making sure to lock it. You slipped the headphones on and made sure to close out of your current documents. “Back.” You replied. “Good.” Bryan breathed on the phone. “It’s such a shame I won’t be seeing you. The things we would do.” He hit a button on his phone unit, placing you on speaker phone. He felt his cock starting to stir. He rubbed himself from the outside of his pants. “Tell me.” You purred. Your heart began to race in anticipation.

“What are you wearing?” Bryan asked.

You bit your lip before answering. “Black v-neck. And that little black pencil skirt that you love so much.”

“The one you wore when I first bent you over and fucked you?” Bryan’s mind flashed to the first time in your office. Your underwear was in his pocket as he took you from behind, coming deep inside of you. “Mmmm-hmmm, that’s the one.” You purred. “God... send me a picture. I want to see.”

“One second.”

You reached over for your cellphone and took two photos: one of down your blouse and for the other, you hiked up your skirt and spread your legs, showing off the thin strip of material that dared call itself underwear. You hit send and waited in eager anticipation for Bryan’s response. You heard him growl and you keened. “I’m already so wet.” You purred some more. Your cellphone vibrated with a new incoming message and when you opened it, it was an image of his hand fisted around his thick, hard cock. Bryan’s cock was thick, with a large vein down the shaft, and stuck straight. You could see a bead of cum already at the head and both your mouth and your cunt salivated. “Oh fuck!” You swore. “That’s what I’d be doing if you were here.” Bryan grunted as he stroked his cock. You lowered your hand down and pulled your panties to the side. You let out a soft moan as your fingers rubbed your swollen nub. “Are you touching yourself?” Bryan asked.

“Yes.” You breathed.

“Good girl.” Bryan replied. “Tell me what you think about when you play with yourself.”

“You fucking me. I think about you making me come with that mouth of yours. Using me like your personal fuck toy.” You continued to rub slow circles on your clit.

“I love making you come.” Bryan purred. “I love how your pussy grips my cock. It’s so fucking tight and wet.” Bryan grunted as he continued to stroke his cock. “If I was there, my face would be buried in between your legs and I wouldn’t stop until you came.”

“Oh yes.” You sighed, slipping a finger inside. “I want to make your whole face wet with my juices. Feel that beard against my skin.”

“Oh, so I shouldn’t shave?”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” You growled. You stroked yourself faster. Your tits strained against the confines of you bra. You could hear the sound of Bryan jerking off on the opposite side. “Tell me, how do I taste?”

“So fucking delicious and sweet. I could eat your pussy forever.”

“You have such a talented mouth.”

You stood and shoved your panties roughly down, and sat back down, propping one leg on the edge of your desk, giving you better access to your most intimate part, so you could play with yourself more.

“I am so fucking wet.” You used a hand to grab one of your breasts, squeezing as the other hand continued to stroke your clit.

“Imagine my tongue on your clit, teasing you. Then, I would slide a finger inside you.” Bryan breathed on the phone.

You moaned as slipped your finger back inside of your pussy. You imagined it was Bryan fucking you, hard and fast, not holding back. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Bryan stroked himself rhythmically, squeezing at the base with every downstroke. “If you were here, this cock would be claiming that tight little pussy.”

“You have such a gorgeous cock. I love it so much.” You moaned. “I miss feeling you in me. You always feel so good inside me.”

Bryan spit into his hand before resuming his movements, now stroking faster. He let out a moan, imagining it was your tight, wet cunt gripping his cock instead. “I think I’m going to cum just thinking about it. Fuck - I love hearing you moan like that.”

You couldn’t even respond. You were too focused on the pleasure building as you finger fucked yourself. Bryan released himself once more to cup his balls, massaging gently before resuming his stroking. “Fuck I’m so hard right now. My cock would be buried deep inside you, fucking you so damn hard. Can you picture it?”

“Oh yes! Pound my little pussy with your big cock. You moaned again, quickening your movements. “I need you to fuck me hard, make me come.”

“You are such a good little slut, aren’t you?” Bryan rasped. “Imagine this cock impaling that pussy, over and over. Filling you up with my load. It would drip out of you, making your thighs sticky.”

Eyes closed, Bryan pictured the curves of your body, the sweat dripping off your skin.

He imagined your hot, soaking pussy wrapped around his cock, taking him deep. ““Do you know how beautiful it is to watch your body tremble as you come? To know that this cock is making you fall apart? I love that look on your face when you start to cum around my cock. Makes me want to come.”

You shuddered at his words, your skin pinpricking. “I want you to finish wherever you like.”

“My darling, naughty minx. Maybe I should come in your mouth.”

“Yes!” You whined. “Come in my mouth. I want to taste you.”

“Keep that pretty little mouth open to me. Taste yourself when I am fucking that mouth.” Bryan growled. “That pretty little face deserves to get fucked.”

““Oh fuck! I am going to cum,” you warned, the coil in your belly about to explode as you now just focused on your clit.

“Come for me.” Bryan commanded as he pumped his length over and over again. “Tell me who owns your pussy!”

You choked out Bryan’s name as you rubbed yourself to completion. You did not care who around you heard. As you came down, you could hear Bryan breathing deeply, the sound of him stroking his cock. Bryan moaned your name as his hips bucked; his balls felt heavy in his hands. That familiar coil in his gut emerged, signaling his own need for release. Bryan began to stroke himself feverishly, working faster and faster.

“I am on my knees. Finish on my face… on my mouth. Like that time in your office.”

Bryan’s hips jerked forward and he grunted your name as he came all over his hand and his pants. Bryan continued to stroke himself languidly, squeezing out every last bit of cum. With a shuddering sigh, he tried to bring his labored breathing back to normal.

“Oh sir, give me every last drop of your delicious cum. Your little slut loves it.” You purred.

“Fucking Christ, Y/N.” Bryan replied as he grabbed some tissues to clean up. “I ruined my suit. I have court this afternoon.”

“Don’t you have spare?” You asked as you pulled up your panties and straightened yourself up.

“I do, thankfully.”

“Well there you go counselor. Now this was fun, but I really do have to get going. I have so much to do.” You sighed, looking back at your computer.

“Finish that merger darling. I am flying out on the next flight after court.”

-FIN-

Tags: @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @delia26 @mgarner1227 @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @delia26 @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolon @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @blk0912 @detective-giggles @rampantmuses @jazzyjoi @caked-crusader @rachelxwayne @the-hopeless-haze @prurientpuddlejumper

#thatesqcrush kink bingo #bryan kneef smut #bryan kneef x reader #bryan kneef imagine

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newobsessionweekly · 5 years ago

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Save me 🌿

@christineeej94 said: Hi, i want to request an image with Aron when he is at a party and he meets a girl who has a abusive boyfriend. Aron will fall in love with that girl, but he can do anything because of her boyfriend. After a few weeks Aron and the girl meet again and start a relationship. I love everything you do so i hope you can like to write about this. I hope you stay safe and i wish you all the best. Kisses

a/n: I’m back in business guys and ready to write all the requests I’ve been receiving! Sorry for talking me so long. I hope I didn’t disappoint you. Stay safe and enjoy! 🌿❤️

Sorry for the eventual grammar errors, I'll edit it in the morning! word count: 2.607

warning: abuse maybe, idk i’m not good at this.

Arón Piper x reader 🌿

He’s neither the sweetest nor the most careful boyfriend, but he was enough for you. He was there for you when no one else was and he is the only one that cares about you and loves you. But sometimes when he’s drunk or angry, when he sees black in front of his eyes, it seems that his love for you dissapeares. It seems that the boy you had fallen in love with was replaced by this heartless person. This time he got angry when he saw your photoshoot for the new Tommy Hilfinger women swimwear. He didn’t like the idea that other males looking at your naked body and you understood. But that was your job, you tried to convince him, nothing seemed to relent him.

Make up and a pair of jeans covered everything from the night before, everything but the thoughts, the memories and his screams. Since you were little, you were used to avoid your parents screaming, putting on your headphones with maximum volume. But screaming and punches coming right to you, you weren’t really used to that, you didn’t knew how to respond to that.

Your head hurts so much and your stomach seemed like it wants to get out of your body. As you staid there, on the bathroom floor with your head on top of the toilet, you wished for a moment that things were different. You wished for him showing you in a different way his emotions.

You get your shit together and after you refreshed your makeup, you walked down towards your table. But you’ve been stopped as a boy accidentally bumped into you. The first things you remarked at him were those beautiful brown curls and a pair of the most beautiful and sweet eyes you’ve ever seen. He is tall, with large shoulders, but not that impressive posture. He was wearing black and you couldn’t hide the fact that you are staring at him. You are doing so wrong.

His hands were still protectively around you, “Are you alright?”

You shake your head, “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Are you sick or something? You look so pale.” his eyebrows approached as he frowned.

“No, no. The alcohol is just not my best friend.” you forced a smile. Who is this boy and why is he asking so many questions? He is somehow familiar.

“So, tell me. You are not a alcohol consumer, I bet you are not a smoker as well.” he began and made sure you were alright before you two started walking away from the toilet area. “Tell me someting about this girl.”

“Well, this girls is named (y/n) and she is not doing much, but she wouldn’t mind if you would want to share at least your name.” you laughed

“I’m Arón. Arón Piper.” he smiled and damn, that was the brightest smile you’ve ever seen. He easily lighted up the whole club.

“Oh, you are the Lacoste boy.” you realised and maybe it wasn’t a good idea to spoke that out loud.

“I’m what?” he was confused, looking at you as you stopped next to a pole so you could look at him.

“The Lacoste boy.” you repeated. “Your best friend described you this way so don’t blame me.” you let a giggle out.

“Oh, that son of a bitch. I hope he made a good description of me.” he is a very plesant guy, with soft features and very sweet voice.

“Pretty much, yeah. He also said you are very good at flirting and all the eyes are on you.”

“I like that, I might add it on my business card. So how do you know my best friend?”

“Oh, Omar is a friend of my boyfriend’s.”

“Ah, then you are the Hilfiger girl. He mentioned you. So I guess we have something in common.”

Your belly hurts so much, but you somehow managed to show otherwise. “Your friend is at our table, come on!”

As you approached the table with Arón’s hand resting on your back, your boyfriend’s sight was never leaving you. His eyes were red and you could tell he had been drinking maybe too much. His sight emanates so much anger, you were scared. You distanced yourself from Arón and sat down next to boyfriend as he put his hand over your shoulders and keep you as close as possible. Arón followed you closely and after he greeted everyone from that table, he sat between you and Omar, his colleague and your boyfriend’s friend.

You ordered some coke and scrolled through your phone as the boys were talking about sports or whatever. When he said to you he has a surpirse, you imagined maybe a dinner with him, telling how sorry he was for hurting you and enjoying yourselves with some wine or maybe some KFC on the cough. But the surprise for your two years anniversary was actually allowing you to accompanied him at some party.

“Aye, chica, I’ve missed you so much. Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in months!” Danna screamed as soon as she arrived, before greeting the others.

Where have you been? That’s a really good question. You haven’t done anything in months and left the house just for your job. No party since your birthday and you didn’t saw your friends since the Elite premiere. But that’s fine, you didn’t mind spending time with your boyfriend.

“I’ve been busy with my job, shooting after shooting, it was kinda tiring!” you embraced Danna and Omar agreed with you.

“Sí, sí, you should see some photos. She’s amazing!” your boyfriend’s fists clenched on your arm as Omar let those words slip out of his mouth.

You find yourself watching Arón as he lights up a cigarette, as he dances on the dancefloor with a drink in his hand or when he simply talks with his mates. You stood at the table, beside your boyfriend, all night and watched everyone having so much fun. When the depression started to fill your body, you excused yourself and hurried towards the toilets.

You just stood there, gazing at the wall, watching all the people passing you. You are not a drinker, but being the only one at the table drinking soda, smelling the alcohol coming from everywhere, is hard. Maybe some cider would made everything a little better, but you know he would get mad. You started regreting coming, you thought you should stay at home, binging your favourite tv show.

“I´m starting to think that you enjoy more staying in the toilet than at the table with us.” Arón half-laughed and proped his shoulder on the wall beside you.

“I could tell the exact same thing about you.” you smiled at him. “I didn´t know you are so close to Danna and Ester.”

“Well, I played beside them for three years so they are like a family to me.” he took a sip from his beer.

“You played in Élite?” you were shocked, but it makes sense now. That’s why he looked so familiar.

“Sí. Ander Muñoz. One of the gays, you know.” he scratched his back of the head.

“I guess we don’t know much about each other, huh?”

“Then let’s change that. Give me your Instagram.” you look suspiciously at him. “You know, from a social media profile you could learn a bunch of things about a person.”

You laughed and give him your username, “And you learned that from season one of Élite?”

“Maybe.”

”You know, maybe we shouldn´t hang out that much near the toilets.” he laughed and that sound made you smile.

You were talking only for a few minutes and he already managed to put a big smile on your face. He’s a sweet person and has a colorful soul, filled with so much happiness and love. He is surrounded with a warm brightness even when he has on that “bad ass” face. Your laughter made a lot of people turn and look strangely at you, but that laugh ended as soos as your boyfriend approached.

“Am i interrupting something?” his eyes are so red, you don’t know how he still manages to walk properly. Your blood freezed in your veins and stealthily looked at Arón.

“No, amor. We were talking about that TV show, Élite. You know, Omar is one of the main characters.” you smiled softely at him, trying to calm the storm in his eyes.

“Do you mind?” he adressed to Arón and you prayed that Arón would understand that he needs to leave know. He lifted the beer bottle at you as in a unspoken “I understand”. He waited for everyone to mind his own business before he turned to you.

“I don’t want to make a scene out here.” he started, surprisingly his voice was low, indicating he was trying to mentaing his anger at a reduced level. “But you provoke me so much, bitch! Were you flirting with him?” he grabbed your arm and hold you still.

“I wasn’t flirting with him.” your trembling voice barely heard.

“Bravo, bitch, now your lying!” his voice almost heard over the music and turned some heads towards you. Arón was watching you and Omar is holding him back, not to intervene. Omar knows about his angry outings, about the screams, but he didn’t know about the punches you received. “That’s why you are not allowed to hang out with them. Because you are a slut. But I forgive you, because I love you.” He grabbed your face and forced you to look him in the eyes. “I love you, do you understand?” in his desperate delirium, he smashed your head on the pole behind you. Your painful groan cought the attention over you. Arón was trying to come closer and check if you are alright, but Omar was still beside him.

“Don’t do that here. Let’s go home.” your head hurts so bad and you couldn´t understand how you still manage to stand on your feet. There is no reaction on his face, but he responded to your words and made room for you to move from the cage he built with his body.

Danna looked concerned at you and tried to come closer, but you smiled at her and assigured her you are alright. And you were alright, you were the only who can calm him down.

“(y/n)...” Arón tried to grab your arm, but you avoided any contact with him.

“Don’t!” you collected your things and left the place with your boyfriend.

------

Few weeks later, when the things got messier, you finally had the courage and told Omar everything. And since there, you were stayed at his place, helping you get over those years and those bad memories that had been haunting you. You were afraind that he would come to find you, you had nightmares and Omar was there for you every single time.

Because his birthday just passed, you organised a big party with the purpose of thanking him about everything. Arón helped you and sinced you moved provisionally with Omar you talked more and more, almost becoming inseparable. He’s a great man, with a golden heart and the power of making you smile even in the darkest days.

In these few weeks you did so many things your boyfriend didn’t allowed you to do in two years. Now, with a cider bottle in your hand, your feet resting on Arón’s lap, you are happier than ever. Laughing and being able to enjoy this group entirely feels like heaven. But that heaven turned immediately into hell and all your fears came to life.

“Where’s (y/n)?” his voice gave you chills and tried to hide your shaking hands. You didn’t want to show how scared you are of him anymore.

“She’s not here and you need to leave!” Omar asserted, but he didn’t care, pusing past Omar and into the house. Your heart is hurting seeing him like this, broken. You almost thought of going there and hug him, telling him that it’s gonna be alright.

“I have the right to see my girlfriend!” he screamed, searcing the room for you and he approached as he saw you on the couch.

You stood up and confronted him, “I’m not your girlfriend anymore. Go away!”

His eyes immediately filled with anger, “What did you just said, bitch?” he raised his hand at you, ready to slam your face, but he was stopped by Arón.

“You don’t have the right to beat her up! Now, get the fuck out of here!” Arón pushed him, trying to make him move.

The man threw the first punch, hitting Arón in the nose and Miguel punched the man in return, but he was stronger than MIguel and landed one to his jaw. Omar came between them and tried to separate them, but he got hit in the stomach.

It was your fault, you shouldn’t let that happen, now all your friends are hurting, trying to keep that man away from you. You tried to go closer, to separate them somehow, but Álvaro stopped you and helped them. Four men hardly managed to fight with that anger. The man stopped eventually and looked at all of you.

“I love you so much and I’m sorry, would you please come back home?” he faced you and you saw something in his eyes.

“She’s not going anywhere, but you are. Before I call the police.” Miguel stood up and put his hand on your shoulder.

The man turned his body when Miguel mentioned the police. He doesn’t want to lose his job so he just slammed the door as he left the house as unexpected as he entered. Your tears broke down with fear and anger at the same time.

“I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry!” your voice is trembling seeing the red spots on the boys faces.

“We are men, that’s doesn’t even hurt.” Miguel said and everyone laughed a little.

You nodded as you made your way towards the balcony. You stood there, gazing at the stars, with tears running down your cheeks. Arón came closer with a cup of hot chocolate and a little but warm smile on his face.

“Aye, what are does tears for? It’s over, honey. You had four knights in shining armour saving you.” he joked trying to make you forget a little. You smiled as you took the cup from his hands and put it on the table.

“Yeah, but what if you weren’t there? What will happen when he will come back and i’ll be alone?” you looked him in the eyes and put your heart on the plate. He’s the only one you can trust entirely and the one you know he’s not gonna judge you.

“You won’t be alone, amor! You have me and I can be at your door nonstop if you want to.” he put his arms around you and you rested your head on his chest. He’s so tall, you could barely reach the shoulders to hug him.

You shook you head, “Thank you, but you don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to. Because I want you to be safe. I want you to be happy and to feel the love you deserve!” he cupped your cheeks and wiped away the tears. Then, without any warnings, he placed his lips over your and embraced with so much warmth that you could melt. He kissed you so softly that you wanted more and more. And after you pulled away, you had to wait for a moment until you came back on earth.

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srashtasoft · 3 years ago

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edogawatranslations · 5 years ago

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Danganronpa Kirigiri (3) - Chapter 5, Part 1

Table of Contents | Previous: Chapter 4, Part 7

Chapter 5 - Deadly Life

The rays of the morning sun poured in through the windows of the train car that was occupied solely by Kyoko and me. We rode side-by-side, our bodies rocking with the train, sharing a fleeting moment of peace. The snow had stopped, leaving only a dusting on the sidewalk outside. I was convinced that if we remained on the train, we could take in that scenery forever. But life was cold and cruel, as both the window and the view became obstructed as more and more people boarded.

We got off the train at our local station. It was past ten by the time we got back to my dorm building. We reached my room, and I was finally ready for a moment’s rest—

Or so I had hoped, but upon entering, a bizarre sight greeted us.

Five black papers were lined up on the most conspicuous part of the wall, each pierced by a dart. The word “CLOSED” had been written on them with a fluorescent pink highlighter. At the tip of every dart was also a Polaroid photograph, each of a different person.

“No way… Seriously?” I muttered in shock.

The papers were five of the six Duel Noirs assigned to Lico.

“‘Closed’… Does that mean case closed?”

“It appears so,” Kyoko said with her eyes wide. Even she was surprised.

“I can’t believe it! He solved five cases in one night?”

I removed one of the darts and checked the card.

Location: Otohari Island — 70 million yen Weapon: Guitar — 10 million yen Trick: Locked Room — 120 million yen Miscellaneous: Loudspeaker — 20 million yen Total Cost: 220 million yen

The attached photo was of a young man. He was in a chair with his arms tied behind his back, glaring angrily at the camera. A boy stood next to the man, holding up a peace sign with a large grin on his face.

“I’m calling him.”

I took out the phone I received from Ryuuzouji to contact Lico. The phone rang three times before he picked up.

“Hey, Lico?”

“Good morning, Yui. I stopped by your room last night, but you weren’t in. I was disappointed I didn’t get to see you.”

“You mean you snuck into my room. I don’t really care about that, but what’s with the darts in the wall?”

“I apologize for leaving holes in your wall again. It’s a habit of mine.”

“I didn’t mean that—well, that is a problem—but why?”

“Those are the Duel Noirs I solved.”

“You say that, but did you really solve all five? How? Is that even possible?”

“Of course it’s possible; in fact, I was quite dismayed that they presented no challenge whatsoever. It’s apparent these cases are designed with you in mind.”

“Tell me the truth. I know you’re talented, but don’t expect me to believe it’s possible to solve five cases in one night. Did you actually know about the Duel Noirs ahead of time?”

“I’m not lying, I had no knowledge of them at the outset. There’s nothing more boring in the world than solving a mystery with prior knowledge of the solution.”

Considering his obsession and love for mysteries, he would never choose to involve himself in a case he already knew the answer to.

So that means… he really did solve these cases worth hundreds of millions of yen in the blink of an eye.

I was once again reminded that triple-zero class detectives possessed extraordinary abilities far beyond my imagination. It was a mistake to judge Lico based on his appearance or compare him to other boys his age—he was a detective of the same caliber as Gekka Ryuuzouji.

“To spoil the fun, I’ll tell you that I captured each culprit before they could commit murder. Catching up to a criminal with a head start requires running at a pace faster than theirs, but if the criminal is stalled at the start line, all it takes is reaching out and grabbing their shoulder. That’s how I was able to solve five cases in one night.”

“What? None of that explains anything.”

“By solving a case before it occurs, you can skip the time-consuming locked rooms and impossible crimes.”

If that was what he did, he didn’t have to break a sweat…

But what sort of reasoning could possibly lead to the culprit of a crime that hadn’t been committed? Famous detectives could solve all sorts of difficult cases, but Lico seemed to possess prescient abilities bordering on the supernatural.

“To be honest, I regret solving everything before getting to discover what sorts of murder tricks would be used. I don’t feel fulfilled at all.”

“Sounds to me like there’s malicious intent behind those words.”

“That’s because there is.”

“Stop it before you ruin my image of you,” I said, feeling a little let down. “I’m not questioning your abilities or anything, but are you sure these people are the culprits?”

“Yes, all of them have confessed. They are the culprits. I wrote down some of their personal details on the backs of the photos, so it might be helpful to memorize the information in case the Committee comes to check your answers.”

“That’s thoughtful of you.”

I flipped over the photo in my hand. A description of the culprit was written with girly handwriting.

Culprit’s Name: Hironori Hari Age: 29 Birthday: December 29 Occupation: Systems Engineer Miscellaneous: Proficient singer. Sought revenge for his high school crush who was driven to suicide.

“The photos show them tied up somewhere. Where are they?”

“Ryuuzouji’s castle.”

“What? You tied up our enemies in the enemy’s castle? How is that a good idea?!”

“I have taken measures to prevent Ryuuzouji from finding out. The criminals are being monitored by the other children, but it won’t be a problem even if Ryuuzouji does find out, since we are aware of their identities. They’ll be spending the next seven days in paradise.”

“I hope nothing goes wrong…”

The criminals Lico captured were unable to exact their revenge. Once the time limit was reached, it would mark their defeat. I wasn’t sure how the Committee would judge that result, but under the rules of the game, failing to kill one’s target in the alloted time should count as a loss.

I checked the other challenge cards and photographs.

Location: Hades Aquarium — 50 million yen Weapon: Block of Ice — 3 million yen Trick: Locked Room — 100 million yen Total Cost: 153 million yen

Culprit’s Name: Kaei Kuchiki Age: 56 Birthday: February 10 Occupation: Diving Instructor Miscellaneous: Father to three girls. Sought revenge for his wife who was killed in a robbery ten years ago.

Location: Hades Aquarium — 50 million yen Weapon: Sulfuric Acid — 10 million yen Trick: Locked Room — 100 million yen Miscellaneous: Blowtorch — 5 million yen Total Cost: 165 million yen

Culprit’s Name: Otsuko Kuchiki Age: 21 Birthday: February 25 Occupation: College Student Miscellaneous: Daughter of Kaei Kuchiki. Sought revenge for her mother who was killed in a robbery ten years ago.

Location: Sawameki Nature Club Center — 30 million yen Weapon: Log — 3 million yen Trick: Locked Room — 100 million yen Miscellaneous: Parchment — 50 million yen Miscellaneous: Jewels — 200 million yen Total Cost: 383 million yen

Culprit’s Name: Tatsutora Oboro Age: 33 Birthday: April 13 Occupation: Detective, DSC Number [355] Miscellaneous: Detective specializing in international counterfeit money schemes. Sought revenge for the Oboro family in connection with its 150-year-long relationship with the Sawameki Nature Club.

Location: Ambition House — 180 million yen Weapon: Large Shears — 5 million yen Trick: Locked Room — 200 million yen Total Cost: 385 million yen

Culprit’s Name: Seika Kumano Age: 20 Birthday: July 1 Occupation: College Student Miscellaneous: Planned a closed circle getaway with seven other students. Sought revenge for a friend who died falling into an underground lake during a school camping trip in an alleged accident.

In the span of just one day, six of the twelve cases had been solved, reducing our total caseload by half. Furthermore, Lico had solved all of his cases before any murder could be committed, meaning the death toll so far was only one. Who could’ve imagined things would be proceeding so smoothly?

That being said, Kyoko and I had five cases remaining…

“By the way, Yui, do you know where I am right now?”

“Why are you quizzing me all of a sudden?” The answer came to me straight away. “Oh, I got it. You’re on a cruise ship.”

“Bingo,” Lico replied gleefully. “I’m currently in the middle of the Pacific Ocean on the S.S. Echidna. This is the last of my cases. It would be a waste to solve it immediately, so I’ll let the culprit’s game play out as planned. As we speak, I’m enjoying a game where my life is on the line.”

“Wh-What sort of game is that? Are you okay?”

He must’ve been in a situation similar to the one Kyoko and I found ourselves in at Norman’s Hotel. But Lico seemed like the kind of person who’d win at anything.

“Can I reach you anytime?”

“The game doesn’t permit the use of cell phones, but I’ll keep this one on me so feel free to call whenever you need. Now then, I should be getting back to the game.”

“Wait, Lico!”

“What is it?”

“…Don’t die.”

“You have no need to worry. I’ll be awaiting a kiss when I return.”

He hung up.

“I wonder if he’ll really be okay…” I put down the phone. “Everything seems to be going well on his end, so we should get started on our next case.”

I looked over the remaining Duel Noirs. Based on total cost, the Takeda Mansion case was the third most inexpensive. Two of the remaining cases were cheaper, while three were more expensive.

I worried about what came next.

“Let’s see… the closest location is…”

While flipping through the challenge cards, I snuck a glance at Kyoko, who was staring at the wall deep in thought.

“Kyoko, what’s wrong?”

“…Huh?” She snapped out of her haze and turned towards me. With a pale face, she shook her head back and forth.

“Do you feel sick?”

“I’m fine.”

She didn’t look fine.

“Why don’t you get some rest?” I suggested. “Stay here while I gather some information on the other cases.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“You won’t be able to recover if you continue to wear yourself out. Please, just rest for a little while. Okay?”

I pushed Kyoko onto the bed and tucked a blanket over her. She looked up at me with a troubled expression.

After I brushed a wisp of hair away from her cheek, she gave in and pulled the blanket up to her face.

“I’m sorry, Yui.”

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for. Get some rest.”

“But the time limit…”

“Don’t worry about that. Like I said earlier, we can spend 28 hours on each case. Right now, we’re five hours ahead of schedule. At least take that extra time to get some rest without worrying about anything.”

She seemed unnerved, staring straight at me with her trembling pupils, trying to find the right words to respond, but in the end, she looked away without saying anything.

I stayed by the bed, watching over her until she fell asleep. Occasionally, as if haunted by nightmares, she would toss and turn, her sleeping face visibly distressed.

What drove her to be like this? What did one of the calmest girls in the world have to fear?

She had seemed different ever since returning home from the Norman’s Hotel case. Something had likely happened at her house, something terrible enough to make her opposed to going home.

I had no idea how long Kyoko would continue to be like this. For her sake, I needed to get to the bottom of what had happened to her. If at all possible, I wanted to rescue her from her suffering.

But knowing her, she was intent on carrying the burden all by herself. She didn’t want to involve others.

An idea suddenly popped into my mind. While she was asleep, I could investigate her house. Just for a quick look. If I could find out anything about what she was going through…

As I tried standing up, I felt something pull me from behind. Kyoko had grabbed onto my clothes without me noticing. My movement caused her to open her eyes.

“Yui… Are you going somewhere…?” She asked with concern, still half-asleep. “I’m… going too…”

She started to get out of bed, but I stopped her.

“There’s something I want to look into, that’s all. I won’t be long. I’ll leave the phone with you; my number’s in it, so call me if you need anything.”

I placed Ryuuzouji’s phone into Kyoko’s hand.

Her expression didn’t change, but it clearly looked like she wanted to say something. I thought of countless possibilities of what it could be; perhaps all of them were right.

“I’ll be back soon.”

In the end, she never said anything. Only the sound of her tossing and turning reached my ears as I left the room.

Next: Chapter 5, Part 2

#danganronpa kirigiri #dr kirigiri #danganronpa #kirigiri #novel #light novel #translation

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animated-happy-birthday-ecard · 10 months ago

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#happy birthday #birthday #happy birthday to myself

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nikita-swervin · 5 years ago

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Rumors

As the oldest house in Forks, Washington, it was no surprise Wintervale Estate was rumored to be haunted. The whole town knows the story, or so they thought. The 75th anniversary of the town was next year and planning was underway. As a high school student and a staff writer for the school webzine, I was tasked with writing an article about a point of interest, as were other writers. Our sponsor and teacher had given us a list of topics to consider, the Estate was one. In true teenage fashion, meaning we couldn’t think up our own ideas, we made a card for each and drew lots.

Yep… you guessed it, I was the unlucky person to get Wintervale Estate. Sure, I had heard the stories, the speculations, and rumors, but I never thought I would ever dig into the history of the house, let alone set foot in it. But, we are getting ahead of the story. My journey down the rabbit hole began where many often do… with a trip to the library.

With my boyfriend, Edward Cullen, in tow, I drove to the town’s small library. He was a history buff like me and often accompanied me on research trips, whether it was for a school assignment or some personal knowledge. I loved that I he came with me. When he found out what I was writing about he was intrigued and had it not been for the fact we had three more classes, we would have been at the library sooner.

I approached the circulation desk and waited patiently as Ms. Cope finished with a phone call.

“Ah, Bella,” she greeted, putting the handset down. “What can I help you find?” She quirked an eyebrow at me before greeting Edward.

Ms. Cope was a good friend and avid reader like me. She knew my taste in books and would always have two or three of the new arrivals set aside for me, however, it was the middle of the month and a good two or three weeks before the next round of new books. “I’m working on a story of the webzine,” I started, pausing a moment.

She motioned with her hand for me to go on.

“It’s about Wintervale,” I said, leaning closer to her and whispering.

“I see.” She eyed me over rim of her glasses for a long moment and then moved her gaze to Edward before nodding. “You two can handle it and might be able to make things right.”

“Make things right,” Edward echoed. “What do you mean?”

Ms. Cope said nothing and turned her back. Opening a drawer, she retrieved a set of keys. She came around the desk and kept walking. I took that as to follow her.

We walked down the stairs and into the basement. The lights flickered and there was a low buzz. Much like upstairs, books lined shelves however they were so dusty you couldn’t read the titles and some had cobwebs dancing in the wake of Ms. Cope’s passing. We came to a stop in front of a wooden door. I could barely make out the faded word – ARCHIVES.

“I don’t know the state of this room. It has been at least a decade since anyone has requested to see the documents within. Darn technology. It ruins all the fun of research.” She unlocked the door and handed me the keys, indicating the key to use to lock the door back up and promptly left.

I looked over my shoulder at Edward. He shrugged. “I guess we have the run of the place,” he said, walking around me and placing his hand on the doorknob. “After you.”

I shook my head and Edward chuckled, moving into the room and feeling for the light switch. The light was dim but would do. There was a long table in the middle of the room, ten file cabinets lined the rear wall opposite the only door, three or four bookcases side-by-side to our right, and two ancient microfiche readers to the left. I set my laptop down on the surprisingly dust-free table and started it up. Moving toward the file cabinets, I looked at the neatly printed labels on the front of the drawers. Each label had a year on it, going back to before the town was recognized by Washington state.

Where to begin? I thought as Edward moved toward the bookcases.

I walked over to the file cabinets. The drawers were labeled with years going back ten years before Forks was officially recognized by the state. Oldest house, I reminded myself and opened the drawer from 1935. Reels of film greeted me and appeared to be labeled with date ranges. Not knowing when the estate was built, I didn’t want to grab one at random and hope it had an article or image on it.

“Did Ms. Cope seem like she would be much help, Edward?” I asked.

“No. There is a lot of books and annuals on the shelves, but without basic information, how do we know where to start?” He turned and leaned back against a shelf.

“Your mom?” I suggested. Edward’s mom, Esme was an interior designer and knew the insides of almost every house in Forks. She was also a history buff. “If she doesn’t know, she might be able to tell us who could help.”

He pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and hit a series of spots on it. A few moments later, his mom’s voice was filling the air. “Hello.”

“Hey, Mom. Bella and I were hoping you could help us out with some information on Wintervale Estate.”

“Wintervale,” she whispered. “What are you two planning?”

That was a strange question. Esme knew the school webzine was working on articles for the 75th anniversary of the town. “That’s the topic I was assigned for the article,” I answered. “We are at the library doing research and can’t find anything. Do you know when it was built? Or, who would know?”

The line went dead. Edward looked at the screen. “She hung up.”

“She knows something, but doesn’t want to tell us is my guess as to why.”

“Web search it is.” Edward sat down at my laptop and connected to the libraries Wi-Fi. He plugged in the name into Google and hit enter. He found a Wikipedia page with a brief entry.

WINTERVALE ESTATE – Half-way house for those released from the mental institution with nowhere else to go or the family refuses to care for them. Builder unknown as is the date of construction. All attempts to obtain information have failed.

There was a single picture of a young man standing next to a brick column with a gate just visible. There was sign the read Wintervale. The photo was sepia and what laid behind the column and gate couldn’t be made out. Edward hit back and went to several other sites. None of them had any useful information or built on the Wikipedia entry.

“Okay, so what do we know from the stories we heard growing up?” I asked.

“Hmm,” Edward said, tapping his chin. “I was always told to stay away from the abandoned house.”

I nodded. My dad and grandmother had both warned me away. “When I asked why, I was told that it was not safe to go into. That the floorboards on the porch and the house where rotted and couldn’t support much weight.”

“Same. My parents didn’t want me to get hurt. Then there are the rumors of it being haunted.”

I scoffed. “Rumors are always floating around but that doesn’t mean they are true.”

Edward shook his head. I was a skeptic in all things supernatural and he knew it. Ghosts, goblins, witches, whatever are characters in stories nothing more. Haunted houses were thrilling but when all is said and done, it was trick wires and people in costumes doing the scaring. To think there are real spooks haunting an old, broken-down house was plain ridiculous.

“I’m going to go and talk to Ms. Cope. Maybe she can give us a starting point,” Edward said, getting up from the table and stretching. “After all, she did say ‘maybe you can make things right.’”

We trudged back through the basement stacks to the stairs. Blinking in the bright light coming through the windows, it took us a moment to find Ms. Cope. She wasn’t at the circulation desk. We found her in the office on the phone. She looked up and raised a finger, ending the call with a few hushed words.

“Find what you needed?”

“No. We need a little assistance,” Edward said. “Do you know when the house was built?”

“1935. There should be film for the year. Maybe an annual. Anything else?”

I shook my head. “That gives us a starting point.”

Back in the basement, I went to the cabinets and opened the one for 1935. There were six reels. I brought out all and gave half to Edward. He went over to one of the readers without me having to ask. I sat at the other one and loaded it.

It was the second of my reels, that I found a brief article.

February 8, 1935

Groundbreaking at Wintervale Estate

The Cope family has broken ground today on westside of town, but it was not without incident. A terrible snowstorm felled a tree. One large limb hit Phineas Cope, breaking his leg. The young boy of six is expected to make a full recovery.

“Edward,” I called once I finished the brief article. “The Cope family owned Wintervale. Do you think Ms. Cope is related the original owners?”

He turned and looked at me. “Good question. Write it down and we’ll ask her.”

I went back to the reels. Going through three more months before finding another article on the same reel.

September 29, 1935

Death at Wintervale Estate

Six-year-old Phineas Cope has passed away for complication of his broken leg. The doctor is baffled as to the cause. When questioned the doctor replied the leg had healed nicely. However, the family spokesperson said the leg was weak and could not support boy’s weight for long periods of time.

I made note and found in October’s paper Phineas’ obituary.

“Bella, have you found anything about Phineas?”

“Two articles and his obituary. What did you find?”

Edward reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “I found an article about his mother, Mary, seeing him at the bottom of a hole right as cement was being poured. She was later institutionalized and died still claiming her son was alive.”

“When did she die? And where?” I asked as I scribbled down the information.

“Mary died on her son’s birthday, December 2, 1935 in her room at Wintervale.”

I felt my face scrunch up. “When was the house finished?”

“A month before her death,” Edward answered. “The reporter speculated she was haunted by her son.”

Something was I had heard came to the forefront of my mind. Rumors about the house and its occupants, but if it was abandoned then how was in occupied? I told Edward what I remembered.

He chuckled. “Always the skeptic, Bella. I’ve heard the same and believe Mary and Phineas never left. We should go check out the house. Look in the windows.”

I shivered at the suggestion. “I don’t know. I have enough for the article.”

“Bella, Bella, Bella. We have a mystery to solve. Something to set right. The truth to find out. What really happened to Phineas and Mary? Why did it become a half-way house? Where’s the reporter? The truth seeker?”

Edward looked at me, hard. “You’re not scared, are you?”

“No. Why would I? I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Then let’s go. We can always come back. For now, I think we have enough question and old newspaper articles are not going to help answer those questions.”

“What about the annuals,” I said, digging my feet in. I wasn’t scared in the least bit. And Edward’s questions were good.

“We can come back, Bella. I’m sure Ms. Cope will let us back in. I don’t think we will find our answers here.” He stood and held out his hand. “Come on. Be adventurous.”

I rewind the reel before standing. After cleaning up, we left the room and informed Ms. Cope we were leaving and would possibly be back.

#oswc2019 #writing #writing challenge

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mortior · 6 years ago

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In which Dirk is a porn star and Jake is a broke college kid who needs the $$$ (Chapter 2)

@jaboody wanted “Dirk teaching Jake how to dom him” for her birthday, so I wrote a continuation of her previous gift! It was a fun challenge, and came out twice as long as the first part. Includes contrived plot devices and an experienced sub teaching a fledgling dom, which imo should be more of a thing because *justright.jpg* and also half of it is smut. [AO3 link]

Dirk’s business card sits on your nightstand for three days.

You forget about it most of the time, only remembering when it catches your eye while setting the alarm clock or retrieving your glasses in the morning. It’s not that you don’t want to contact him, but there’s a chance he might be upset that you dragged your feet about it, not to mention it would be awfully embarrassing if he’s forgotten about you entirely. Especially since you’ve been thinking about him so often. Sometimes you dream about that day at the studio, with all the irrational additions and embellishments of dreams. Even your waking fantasies are affected, where before you pictured nameless, faceless women who acted out whatever racy scenario your imagination conjured for those lonely moments in bed or in the shower, but now you’ve got a face and a name, and a pattern of freckles you can’t forget.

You can’t stop yourself from typing the name of the studio on his business card into your web browser’s search engine. The link appears at the top of the results, and you click past the welcome page and scroll down, then nearly slam your laptop shut at the first row of video thumbnails. A few hours later, after you’ve had something to eat and done a bit of cleaning around your dorm room to work the nervous jitter out of your hands, you sit down and open the laptop again, just long enough to close the web browser (and with it, the oversized video preview on the front page with you on your back, pants off, and Dirk’s head between your legs).

The money you got from that shady (though not entirely unpleasant) tryst is more than enough to pay the grocery bills, and you spend the rest of the week catching up on the movies and TV shows you missed during the semester, while paying half-attention to the homework for your online classes - mostly dry textbook readings and short quizzes, although your intro to physics course is a different beast, and you ultimately concede defeat and put it off until later. Now there’s a half-finished text idling in your phone under Dirk’s contact number. You’ve been picking at it like a scab, adding words here and deleting some there, never satisfied with it.

On Thursday, you revisit the website on Dirk’s business card. There’s a row of links at the top, allowing you to navigate the site without subjecting yourself to the “featured video” thumbnails on the home page. Most of the content seems to be video-based and restricted to paying customers, but there’s also a photo album with preview images and video stills, and you’re given the option to sort by tags. Some of these tags include names. The image thumbnails are small and confusingly obscene, but a familiar figure eventually catches your eye. Clicking on his tag brings up a new page, and a sudden twinge of guilt.

You’re not particularly well-versed in things like kinks and fetishes. It was hard enough making the transition from homeschooling to a new country and an overwhelming number of people, and it wasn’t long before you identified with the words “introvert” and “social anxiety.” You’ve adjusted over time, but sex and romantic relationships always felt like an unrealistic fantasy - something that happens to other people or characters in books and movies. There are a few things you’re...curious about, but only in theory, much like you’re curious about ancient Mayan ruins or the rings of Saturn.

Now, after clicking Dirk’s name, you’re presented with hundreds of pictures that seem to rouse that repressed interest. You’re not bold enough to click any of them, as you gradually scroll down in speechless fascination. Some of the set-ups look like borderline torture, or at least supremely uncomfortable. He seems to be the primary recipient of the studio’s BDSM subject matter, particularly regarding the first letter of the acronym. You’re especially drawn to the pictures that focus on Dirk’s face, along with various methods of restraint that you’d be fascinated to learn more about, if this didn’t already feel like a paradoxical invasion of privacy. You bookmark the webpage, then delete it, then bookmark it again, but name it something innocuous and school-related.

It’s Friday morning, and you’re lounging in bed with some daytime soap opera-turned-infomercial at low volume on the TV. You’ve worked the overdue text message into a casual but friendly greeting, a quick apology for waiting so long, and a tentative offer for Dirk to meet you at the cafe this afternoon if he’s free and still interested, but the send button proves to be a formidable foe. The phone rests by your pillow while you distract yourself, flipping through various channels until ultimately settling on a nature documentary. Finally, you bite the proverbial bullet and tap the send button, then focus with all your might on the natural beauty and grace of Asia’s carnivorous wildlife.

The reciprocal “ding” occurs about fifteen minutes later with a jolt to your gut, and your phone stays face-down for another minute or two, before you can’t stand it any longer. The TV is temporarily forgotten as you read Dirk’s reply. He’s accepted the offer for this afternoon, and you allow yourself a silent, victorious fist pump.

You send him the cafe’s address, then agonize for the next hour over what you’re going to wear. Everything in your dresser seems far too casual for a first date, but you keep telling yourself it’s only an outing to the local coffee shop. After a long shower and a quick shave, you finally settle on an outfit that would make a good second impression, but won’t sacrifice comfort in the process (namely, your other favorite T-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts). For the first time ever, you linger in the bathroom and fuss with your hair in the mirror.

The remaining hours pass, and soon you’re walking down the street on a beautiful sunny afternoon with the occasional fellow student out for a stroll, though it’s still significantly less populated than it is during the school year. The cafe is on the southwest corner of campustown, no more than a quick taxi ride away from your dormitory, but you’re anxious and grateful for the excuse to walk off some energy before meeting your date (who happens to be an exceptionally attractive gent...and with whom you’ve already had a rather intimate encounter).

You arrive at the cafe with its little row of outdoor tables and flower boxes on the patio, and elect to wait inside where the lounging chairs are a measure more comfortable. Despite getting here on foot, you’re still ahead of the agreed-upon time, so you ask the barista for a cup of water and claim a spot that faces the glass door and windows of the shopfront. You twiddle your thumbs and check your phone, and try not to look as nervous as you feel.

Dirk arrives right on time. You catch sight of him before he enters the cafe, wearing a tasteful pair of black slacks and a white shirt that betrays his muscled physique, and...a rather unusual pair of sunglasses. He pushes them up onto his head, and when his eyes find yours, you momentarily forget how to breathe as memories of your previous encounter run through your mind like a tactile slideshow. At the last moment you remember to smile, and quickly stand to greet him. You trade hellos before leading him to the countertop to order your beverages, and it’s only a titch awkward (he hasn’t said much yet, and it’s hard to take your eyes off of him, even while he’s scanning the menu and talking to the barista).

When you’ve got your drink in hand (a pumpkin spice chai latte - they were nice enough to retrieve the flavor from the back room, even though it’s not technically in season yet), you return to your chair. Dirk takes the seat next to you and ventures a tentative sip of his chosen beverage (caramel mocha with an extra shot of espresso). The cafe is virtually empty, so you’ve got a nice spot to sit and chat.

“Sorry again, about waiting so long to get in touch,” you offer, hoping he doesn’t think ill of you for it, but he shrugs it off.

“Three days ain’t bad. I’m impressed you went through with it.” You’re relieved at the touch of humor in his voice, as he takes another sip of his coffee. His gentle demeanor is a balm on your frazzled nerves, and you’re momentarily distracted by his lips on the rim of his cup.

“Hah,” you let out an awkward laugh, “well, I meant what I said, and I am...glad to see you again.” You fumble for a moment. “How, uh...how’s your week been?”

During the following hour, you learn quite a lot about Dirk. It turns out he’s also a student at the university, though he’s dual majoring in computer science and mechanical engineering. He rents a house near the edge of campus with his younger brother, who just started as a freshman last year and is majoring in film studies. He asks about your major, and you confess an interest in anthropology, though at the moment you’re undeclared and just trying to get the core requirements out of the way.

There’s a lull in the conversation, and you sheepishly ask about work, hoping you didn’t create any undue problems from that rather odd misunderstanding, but he puts your fears at rest. In the process, you learn about Dirk’s history with Cal, the large, brutish fellow from the studio. He’s not too much older than you, but he was never a student at the university. He and Dirk first met and started dating when Dirk moved to the area for college, and that apparently didn’t last very long (and Dirk doesn’t go into detail), but they had a few similar interests, including adult entertainment and business entrepreneurship. Dirk runs the website in his spare time and participates in some of the videos and photoshoots, while Cal handles the miscellaneous duties and logistics that come with running a small business.

“He’s terrible at it,” Dirk explains, “but he made the initial investment, so we’re all kinda stuck with him.”

“That’s unfortunate,” you muse, taking another sip from your beverage, now lukewarm and nearly empty. You’re keenly aware of the fact that Dirk already finished his drink. “Does he make a habit of, ah...misleading you? In regards to certain things?”

Dirk lets out a frustrated breath, and you detect a touch of embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry about that. He doesn’t do it much anymore, but like I said, he’s an asshole.”

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but...” You fiddle with the lid on your cup, trying to sound concerned and inquisitive rather than judgemental. “That doesn’t sound like a very good work environment.”

Dirk shrugs. “Cal’s bark is worse than his bite. He throws his weight around and micromanages to a stupid degree, but everyone just ignores him and does their job. You get used to it.”

You hum at his explanation, marginally convinced, but willing to take his word for it. You’re both nursing empty cups at this point, and the conversation inevitably peters out when you can’t think of anything more to say that isn’t school or work-related. It’s been a pleasure talking to him, but you’re not sure how to tell him that without making it sound like you’re trying to excuse yourself, even as he stands and offers to take your cups to the garbage.

Outside on the sidewalk, you pause to lean on the ornate faux-iron rail in front of the cafe, reluctant to bid him farewell so soon. You weren’t necessarily expecting more, or maybe you hadn’t allowed yourself to hope for intimacies beyond a pleasant conversation over coffee, but the thought of parting ways with him now leaves you feeling disappointed, and guilty for it.

“I had fun,” he says, soft and genuine. He’s already put his sunglasses back on, and it’s quite possible he’s the only person in the world who could pull off that unusual ensemble. His face is naturally (and achingly) handsome, and he somehow still manages to look fetching with his eyes covered by sharp glass. “I don’t get out much, so this was cool.”

“You certainly are a busy fellow,” you smile, trying your hardest not to sound anxious at the coming farewell. “Thank you again for meeting me on such short notice. I hope I didn’t keep you from anything important.”

“Nah, I’ve got weekends off.” He shrugs. “Bet those online classes are keeping you busy, though. Isn’t it almost summer midterms?”

You exhale an awkward laugh. “Yes, indeed. I don’t mind the electives, but these core science classes are really putting me through the wringer.”

“Yeah? Which ones?” He asks with sudden interest.

“Uhm...just physics, actually. The introductory course. It’s so much math, and I understood it better when it was just gravity and friction, but now we’re doing circuits and resistors, and all manner of confusing little diagrams with wires, and I swear it’s all a bunch of blasted logic puzzles,” you trail off with a huff.

“Do you need help? I don’t have any plans tonight,” he offers, then quickly backpedals. “I mean, if you want. It’s cool if you’d rather call it a day, or text me some other time, or whatever.”

“Oh! Well, yes, of course, I-I’d be grateful for the help,” you stumble, grasping at the chance to spend more time with him, and caring little for the homework you’ll presumably get done in the process.

The walk back to your dormitory is pleasant, compared to the awkward trek you were expecting. Dirk seems to know his way around campus, and you don’t need to direct him beyond the name of your dormitory building. He opts for the stairs instead of the elevator, and it occurs to you halfway up that you haven’t been very mindful about keeping the place clean since your roommate left for the summer, so you mutter apologies while pushing past Dirk once your door is open, grabbing an armful of dirty clothes after making a frantic detour to toss last night’s frozen dinner into the garbage.

“I’m so sorry about the mess, I wasn’t expecting company,” you apologize, while throwing your clothes into the hamper. Dirk says nothing at first, but when you turn around, he’s got a small, amused smile.

“No worries, man. You should see my place.” He clips his sunglasses to his shirt and wanders around a bit as you finish racing to tidy up, as much as one can wander about within fifteen square feet of space. He lingers in thoughtful consideration of the posters that adorn every square inch of the wall over your desk, then seems to notice the far less decorated living space on the opposite side of the room. “You got a roommate?”

“I do, but he’s staying with family for summer break.” You straighten out the covers on your bed, then offer Dirk a soda from the mini fridge, which he politely declines. Your tiny dormitory-furnished desk isn’t really big enough for two, especially with only one chair in the room (those tuition dollars at work), so you apologise again and ask Dirk if he’s alright with sitting on the floor, and he’s already making himself comfortable before you can finish the question, so you fetch your laptop and join him.

Dirk, it turns out, is a natural at explaining difficult concepts. He borrows a notebook from your desk and writes out a series of basic formulas, along with a small flowchart showing you where to replace certain variables depending on the situation. You go over the practice questions together as he explains how to translate each question into mathematical equations and plug the numbers in, and it’s the first time this stuff has made any sense. Next, you tackle the online quiz that had given you such a headache earlier. He lets you complete each question on your own, and once you have an answer, tells you if it’s correct or points out the step at which you made a mistake and has you redo it more carefully. It’s a relief to finally understand the material and not spend several hours ripping your hair out only to get a marginally passing score. It's a strange end to your date, but you're not complaining in the slightest.

“I used to be a TA before I got busy with the studio,” he explains when you compliment him on his teaching skills. “Can’t say it was my favorite gig, but it gave me something to do.”

“Well, you are very good at it.” You submit the quiz and open the next homework assignment, although it’s not due for a few more days. “I bet it didn’t pay too well, though.”

Dirk snorts, and it’s somehow the most charming thing you’ve ever seen. “Peanuts. But I wasn’t in it to pay the bills.”

“Well, I think you might have just saved my behind...again,” you give a small, nervous laugh. “I really can’t thank you enough. For this, and for…earlier this week, too.”

He shrugs a little, and his pale complexion betrays the pinkish tint to his face, as he focuses with sudden intensity on the laptop’s screen. “You started this one yet?”

“Ah, yes-” you stumble out of the awkward pause, “or tried, rather. It’s actually from the next chapter.”

“Do you have the textbook? It’ll make way more sense with the diagrams.”

You nod and direct him to a small closet packed with winter clothing and a few boxes that belong to you and your absent roommate, telling him to check the one on top. Later, you’ll blame what happened on how distracted you’ve been lately, and berate yourself for refusing to label things properly, although you’ll come to be grateful for it. Dirk gets up and makes his way to the closet to follow your instructions, and you’re busy focusing on the first homework question when the sound of ripping tape and cardboard triggers the horror of a forgotten memory.

Last year during the winter semester, your roommate was enrolled in a history class that assigned homework and essays and required them to be submitted online. Your roommate John is a nice enough fellow, though he’s far more outgoing than you and comes from a well-off family, so he spends most of his time hanging out with friends and whatnot. One weekend at the end of November, there was an assignment due in his class. He complained about going to the campus library’s computer lab, and for reasons unbeknownst to you, he never bothered to purchase his own laptop, so he asked to borrow yours. You consented, and he sat at your desk while you watched a televised marathon, paying little attention to any impending shenanigans such as him taking the underhanded opportunity to browse your internet history. You’ve explored all manner of websites at one time or another, and one of those websites happened to sell things related to those kinks and fetishes that you’re only curious about in theory. You had “bookmarked” a laundry list of fascinating but confusing implements by adding them to the site’s online shopping cart for the purpose of later research, but had forgotten about it since then. It was on that fateful day your roommate got it into his daft head to snoop around in your browser history and, with your birthday coming up, decided to order every item on that list, pay for it himself, and have it shipped to the dormitory. He even wrapped it for you, and laughed hysterically at the expression on your face when you opened the box before shoving it into your closet, where it would stay hidden in exile. Needless you say, you’d forgotten it was sitting on top of your box of textbooks, and now your date, who is an absolute gent of a fellow you’ve only met twice, is staring down at its contents with a blank expression.

“Ah! Not that one, that’s-...” you trail off, biting your knuckle as he lifts a tangled mess of black leather and metal. You place your laptop on the floor and stand up, practically wringing your hands together. “It’s not….well okay, maybe it is mine, but-”

Dirk finally seems to notice the state you’re in, and quickly drops the obscene items back in the box. “Hey, woah, it’s okay dude. I’m the last person who’s gonna judge you for this stuff.”

You laugh weakly, trying to hide the nervous tremor in your voice. “A-hah...well, my roommate actually purchased all that, you see. For my birthday, as a sort of...joke, I think.”

He frowns at that, turning back to the box and rummaging around inside. “Seriously? This is like...several hundred dollars worth of gear.”

“It is?” You pale a bit, then wonder vaguely why you didn’t try to sell it sooner, before the thought of selling such objects to complete strangers quickly puts that idea out of your head. “Well, it’s just a mess of things I don’t know what to do with. I haven't a clue how any of it works.”

“Really? ‘Cause I could, uh…” Dirk trails off suddenly, then seems to regain his train of thought. “I mean, we’re kinda doing a lesson already, and if you want to learn about this too, I can at least show you how the gear works.”

You don’t really know what to say to that. Dirk shrugs at your wide-eyed expression like he’s suggesting a casual review of some academic subject.

“Uhm...sure, ok.” You surprise yourself with the answer. He picks up the cardboard box and carries it to the foot of your bed, while you sit down on the edge of the mattress and try very hard to relax.

“Alright...we’ll start with…” he rummages around in the box and produces some manner of sinister leather collar from its depths. “This. It’s called a spider gag.”

“A what?” You make a face at the device, as he unbuckles the strap and sits next to you. “You're saying that contraption is supposed to go in your mouth? It looks...terribly uncomfortable.”

Dirk seems amused at that, as he holds it out for you to observe. “Yeah, well, that’s kinda the point. Depends on what you’re into. This is actually one of the nicer ones I've seen.” He taps his finger against the metal ring in the center. “Gotta be careful not to chip a tooth, but it’s better than a ring gag. The hooks keep it from flipping over. Want a demonstration?” he asks while already unbuckling the leather straps, and you nod vacantly as he starts fitting the thing into his mouth like he’s done this a hundred times.

You watch in quiet fascination as he adjusts the straps and pulls it tight, and you're left at a loss for words when he’s finished. Whoever invented this bizarre contraption was a genius of the highest caliber. The ring does a marvelous job of parting his lips and holding his mouth open, and all while leaving enough room between his teeth that you can already imagine the raunchy sequiturs to such a situation. There’s no denying the sudden heat on your face, as he pauses so you can take it all in.

“That is…” you struggle to find words, “...really...something. I-I think...I might have seen it before? But didn’t quite know what it was. I mean, from what little searching around I’ve done on your website- that is-” Dirk blinks, as you stammer in panic at the slip-up. “I saw the website on your card, and I...I swear didn’t watch the videos, but the photographs...and they were free, and you had a tag, so I...I should have asked permission first, I’m so sorry-” Dirk makes an incoherent noise in his throat, the gag preventing him from responding to your shameful confessions as he quickly starts fumbling with the buckle behind his head. “It was wrong of me to invade your privacy like that. I knew it was wrong, but I went and snooped around like a thoughtless cad when you trusted me with that card, and-”

“Jake, it’s okay,” he interrupts, after finally freeing himself. “If I didn’t want people to see that stuff, it wouldn’t be on the website. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Are you sure? I feel so awful,” you confide, hoping the sting in your eyes isn’t noticeable.

“I’m sure, don’t worry about it.” He drops the gag back into the box and focuses those stunning eyes on yours, his expression sincere. “I’m just…happy you still wanted to do this.”

“Really?” you ask, allowing yourself a deep breath of relief when he nods. “Thank goodness. I thought I’d really gone and mucked this all up.”

“You didn’t muck up anything. This is the best date I’ve been on in years.” He smiles, and it somehow reaches your face too. “I’m into this stuff because I like it, and I’m...glad you like it too.”

You laugh at that, though it’s more out of embarrassment. “Yes, well, I don’t think I’d ever wear those things myself, but on you, it’s...I-I mean, you’ve clearly had lots of experience.” You bite your lip at the almost-admission of how obscenely good he looked in that gag, and then, after a moment to think it over, you admit it in a small, quiet voice. “It looked...very fetching on you.”

“Yeah?” he smiles, matching your soft tone. The air feels heavier, and the tone of his voice stirs a familiar flock of butterflies in your gut. “We can keep going, if you want. Here, pick whatever looks interesting.” He slides the box closer to you across the floor.

You take a moment to bend down and rummage through the box’s unfamiliar contents, trying to hide the betraying flush to your cheeks. The only item that doesn’t appear partway tangled up in everything else is a metal bar with a suspicious leather cuff on either end.

“This looks a bit like handcuffs,” you venture, hoping you’ve picked something fairly innocuous. Dirk accepts it when you hold it out to him.

“Close,” he smiles. “It’s called a spreader bar.”

“Huh,” you murmur, watching him fiddle with it. He loosens something, and slides the bar away from itself in the middle.

“Collapsable, nice,” he says. “The cuffs go around your legs to hold them apart. Sometimes they attach to handcuffs or collars, depending on how much restraint you want. They can get pretty extreme when you mix and match.”

“Oh. But this is...one of the simpler ones?” you wonder aloud, and Dirk nods.

“Yep. This one comes with thigh cuffs, but ankles are more typical.” He unbuckles the cuffs and scoots back on the bed to give himself room, before placing the bar halfway up his thighs and securing the cuffs around his pants. He leans back when he’s done, and you consider the result thoughtfully.

“So it keeps your legs apart,” you conclude, and he nods, “and it can pull you all sorts of ways too, if you’ve got handcuffs and collars and all that?”

“Pretty much. It’s easy to get creative.” He grins, and you don’t bother trying to hide the flush on your face this time. “Pick something else.”

“Oh, ok,” you fumble, keenly aware that he’s making no effort to remove the spreader bar. You return to the box at your feet, searching for something you can identify this time. “I assume these are the handcuffs?” You lift the pair of leather cuffs connected by a short, sturdy metal chain.

“Nope. Ankle cuffs.”

“Dagnabbit,” you mutter, and Dirk practically chokes on his laughter.

“It was a good guess.” He takes them from you and undoes the buckle on each cuff. “They can be identical to handcuffs, but these are bigger and don’t have any padding.” He bends down with some difficulty and has to cross his feet to make them fit, but manages to buckle the cuffs just above each ankle. When he’s finished, the combination of the cuffs with the spreader bar keeps his legs bent apart at the knees.

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?” you ask, concerned for his posture.

“Not really. These are kinda loose. You can shorten the chain if you want to. See the clip?” He leans over and taps one of the ankle cuffs where the chain connects to it, and you notice that one of the links is actually a sort of metal clip.

“That’s nifty,” you remark, pleased by the discovery. When you look up, he’s already watching you with a fond smile, and you return it bashfully.

“Got anything else for me?” He tilts his head at the box. You return to the trove of unfamiliar objects only a little flustered, as he waits patiently for your next selection. You eventually settle on a relatively large implement that appears to be some sort of leather corset, if you had to guess.

“I don’t suppose this is meant to go over your clothes…” you venture, hopefully getting the implication across that you’re not asking him to undress (although you won’t protest if he suggests it himself). He takes the item from you with a lopsided grin.

“It’s an armbinder. Way more effective than handcuffs if you want to restrain someone.”

“Ah, that’s...helpful, I suppose,” you add, unsure of what to say to that. Dirk spends a moment tugging at the laces, before handing it back to you.

“I’ll need your help with this one,” he says, turning his back to you and holding his arms out behind him. You stutter briefly, then wrestle with your embarrassment and figure to hell with it, before guiding his arms into the thing and adjusting it into what seems like the most natural position. There doesn’t appear to be an opening at the bottom for his hands.

“Now tighten the laces, then the straps go over my shoulders,” he instructs casually. You do as he says, hoping you aren’t pulling them too tight, but it’s not entirely unfamiliar - a bit like lacing a shoe. When you’re finished, he turns back around so you can fasten the large straps at the top. They remind you of suspenders from the chest up.

“Nice,” he says, testing his range of motion when you’re done, and managing only to shift his arms a little. “You’re a natural.”

“Oh, please,” you laugh, feeling giddy at the compliment. “You’re just a very good teacher.”

He gives you a wink, before wiggling a bit and shifting even further back on the bed. “Now I’ll show you the best part about combining multiple pieces of gear.” He manages to turn himself towards you, before leaning backwards and falling down on his back with his arms trapped beneath him. You stand to give him more room, and he looks up at you with an air of mischief. “I’m pretty much stuck like this now, although I could roll off the bed if I really wanted to. Won’t do me much good, though.”

You nod slowly, distracted by the sight of him as that pesky swarm of butterflies migrates lower, until you’re grateful for the baggy cargo shorts. Something about the sight of his legs held apart, and the way his arms keep his shoulders back, accentuating the rise and fall of his chest…the moment comes to a grinding halt, as he watches you and the silence stretches on, conspicuous and heavy.

“Like it?” he asks quietly, his smile turned soft and almost shy. You nod, and your face feels hot.

“You are...just...absolutely beautiful,” you whisper, forgetting to filter your thoughts before speaking. Dirk seems caught off-guard by the compliment.

“Thanks,” he eventually murmurs, as your traitorous eyes move to the strip of exposed skin where his shirt is riding up. “You know you can touch, if you want to.”

Your eyes dart up like you’ve been caught stealing cookies from the jar. “Oh! Ah...w-well, I, uh…” you stammer at his gentle amusement. A polite refusal would be the proper thing to do, but you’re suddenly distracted by his hair, remembering how soft and delicate it felt between your fingers, and how last time you didn’t really get a chance to touch him otherwise. He seems to be inviting you now, in no uncertain terms. You wet your lips nervously. “Are you sure?”

His smile widens. “Yeah. You don’t have to, but...it kinda looks like you want to.”

You don’t have a good response to that, so you nod at the astute observation, not trusting your voice at the moment.

“Go ahead,” he offers, and you decide in a moment of philosophical clarity not to overthink it. Your hand lifts, then hesitates, not sure where to start. Eventually, your fingers are drawn to the delicate strands of hair framing his brow, and Dirk seems oddly surprised by your choice.

You gently trace across his forehead, careful and unsure at first, then sit down next to him on the bed and run your fingers through his hair in earnest. He’s watching you too, as you admire that spattering of freckles across his nose and take note of a faint scar on his upper lip. Your heart is working its way up to a flutter, as you gather enough courage to smooth your thumb across his cheek and down the handsome curve of his chin, then your fingers drift to his neck, feeling the faint pulse under his jaw. Your eyes are drawn to his throat when he swallows, and you’re struck by a sudden knowledge of what you want.

“Can I kiss you?”

Dirk nods at your whispered question, his half-lidded eyes never leaving yours. You lean down, aware again of his immobility, and something about that fact makes you slide your fingers into his hair and grip two handfuls of it as your lips meet. You press harder than you’d intended, and he responds by sliding his mouth against yours and scraping his teeth against your lower lip in approval, and it stokes an undeniable heat below your waist.

You pull back, keeping a centimeter of distance between your lips, just enough to meet his bottle-brown eyes and echo his heavy breathing.

“Damn,” he whispers, his mouth quirking up on one side.

“Was that...good?” you ask. “Did I do it right?”

“I ain’t complainin’,” he says, sounding almost tipsy. There’s a hint of an accent under his voice that you’ve been subconsciously trying to place since you met him, and it’s definitely got a southern lilt to it now that he’s unguarded. You lean in again, this time rubbing circles where you’d pulled his hair before, apologetic, but still addicted to the feeling. He chuckles into the kiss and does that thing with his teeth again, but this time his tongue gets involved, and your head almost spins at the feeling.

“God,” you breathe, pulling away for a moment to catch your breath. There’s a heated look in his eyes, and you can’t stop running your fingers through his hair.

“Too much?” he whispers, and you shake your head.

“No, it’s...I’ve never...well, besides earlier, I’ve never done this before. You were my first kiss, you know.”

“I wish I’d known,” he mutters. “Wish I’d made it better. Gotten you started off right, not...coerced into it for money.”

“But you did make it right, and I am so, so very glad I met you,” you reassure him, kissing the bridge of his nose, then along the freckles beneath his eyes, before leaning back to look at him, “And I did need the money. But I’ve learned my lesson, and will be keeping a tight budget this year, you mark my words.”

He chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling handsomely. “Shoulda majored in accounting.”

“Nonsense. You know better than anyone by now that I’m rubbish at math.”

“I’ve seen worse.”

“I doubt that very much.” You can’t help leaning in to kiss him again, and he hums into it, before sucking gently on your lower lip, and you almost gasp at the feeling - hot and wet, with just a teasing hint of tongue.

“Just takes practice,” he mutters against your lips. “Everything does.”

“Are we still talking about math?” you mumble back, smiling at the thought.

“Anything you want,” he whispers, taking in a quick breath through his teeth when you experimentally tighten your grip in his hair, and you decide it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. There’s a definite tent to the front of his pants now, all the more obvious with his legs held apart and the fabric pulled tight. “Do whatever you want. Or nothing. We can stop, but...I’m down with whatever, if you wanna keep going.” He swallows and licks his lips, his voice rough and maybe a bit nervous, and if you hadn’t fallen for him already, you certainly would have now.

“Anything I want?” you hum mischievously, amazed at your own confidence. It helps that he’s bound and trussed up like a Christmas goose.

“Yeah,” he breathes as you kiss him again, this time taking the lead with your newfound confidence and moving to kneel over him on the bed. There’s just enough room to plant your knees on either side of his waist, and you wind up tucking your calves beneath his knees, since he can’t quite lay them flat with the ankle cuffs keeping his feet together, and the result is surprisingly comfortable.

“What, um...what do you want me to do?” you ask, briefly second-guessing yourself now that you’re on top of him.

“The surprise is the best part,” he drawls softly. “Anything else in the box you wanna try?”

You think it over, then lean down to make a quick final pass through the box’s contents, and finally manage to find something you can positively identify. Dirk grins at the blindfold, looking very pleased with your selection.

“A classic.”

It’s the sort that could double as a sleep mask, you think, and fortunately there’s nothing to fasten or tie in the back. You carefully lift Dirk’s head and slip the blindfold over his face, then take a moment to remove the sunglasses still clipped to his shirt and relocate them to the bedside table. When you lean back to take it in, you spend an extra moment just admiring the sight before you. Dirk’s lips are parted slightly as he takes slow, deep breaths, aware of your attention. You reach out and run your fingertips down the enticing curve of his neck, tracing a path from beneath his ear to the center of his clavicle, then along one collarbone until you’re pushing the neck of his shirt aside to reach his chest and shoulders. Your hand slips under the fabric, and you marvel again at how impressively fit he is.

“You’re the most handsome bloke I’ve ever seen,” you tell him, meaning every word of it and feeling relaxed now that his eyes are covered, like it’s taken the pressure off. “I bet you get plenty of exercise.”

“I work out when I can,” Dirk’s voice is soft and amused as you push up his shirt from the bottom, wanting to see more of him and unsatisfied with the little taste you’ve had so far. You sit back on his lap to give yourself more room, and lose your train of thought for a moment at the feeling of something firm beneath you. Dirk is breathing faster now, and he holds his breath when you lean forward, shifting your weight. His muscles tense under your fingers, now exploring the smooth skin of his stomach and the sparse curls of hair below his navel. You push his shirt up as far as it will go, then run your greedy hands over his pectorals and down his sides. He shifts beneath you with his limited range of motion, making you aware of the reciprocal tent in your own pants. If you just moved down a bit more...

But you’re not quite ready for that yet, you think, even if...rubbing against him like that is the stuff of private nighttime fantasies. Instead, you decide to satisfy your curiosity, and reposition yourself to sit between his knees just below the spreader bar, with your feet resting on either side of his chest. It’s a bit awkward, but you’re able to lean forward and undo the button on his pants. He makes an odd sound in his throat.

“Jake…” he murmurs like he’s out of breath, “you don’t have to-”

“I know,” you reassure him, pleased that your fingers are only shaking a little as you pull his zipper down, “but I do remember you saying I could do whatever I wanted.”

He gives a breathy laugh at that. You’re limited in how far you can pull his pants down with the cuffs around his thighs, but not so much that you can’t expose the most important part. He’s wearing a pair of briefs with an elastic band at the top. You leave those in place for now, reaching out and pressing your hand against the conspicuous bulge in the center, and feeling it twitch under your palm as Dirk lets out a stuttered breath.

You’re grateful for the blindfold, as you’re still trying to decide how to feel about touching an erection that isn’t your own. Come to think of it, it’s...actually for you. He got like this because you kissed him. You can even feel it getting bigger, just because you’re touching him through his underwear. If you had any doubt that he was genuinely into you, there’s no question of it now. Flattered isn’t the word for it - you’re flustered and excited. Using both hands, you pull down his briefs and expose the blunt head of his dick.

After taking a moment to fold his briefs down as far as they’ll go, you manage to expose him all the way to the crinkled blond hair around the base of his shaft. He’s a bit smaller than you, surprisingly, but not by much, and his skin down here is strikingly pale. You rub his hips with both hands, remembering how good it felt when he did something similar for you. Once you’ve gathered enough courage and reminded yourself that he can’t see what you’re doing, you press your thumb against his shaft and begin rubbing up and down, just getting a feel for it, and when you finally wrap your hand around it, he pushes up into your grip with a breathy gasp.

“Oh wow,” you murmur, realizing how far along he is already.

“Hhah…” he sighs, gritting his teeth. “Sorry. Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, smoothing your other hand over his stomach and admiring the sight of his chest heaving. The thought briefly crosses your mind that he might be hamming it up, but that hardly seems like something he’d do. “You’re...really into this.”

He hums wordlessly, then grits his teeth and curses when you push both thumbs against the spot just beneath his glans, rubbing in firm little circles. His legs shift restlessly against the bindings.

“Jake, uh...I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that,” he breathes out in a rush.

“That so?” you wonder aloud, feeling giddy and mischievous. Watching him and listening to him is giving you a light feeling in your head, almost like a pleasant buzz. You’re breathing faster, too. That might be it. You can feel him twitching in your hands, and when you push one thumb up to smear the little bit of precum at the tip, he sounds like he’s running a marathon.

“Is that a good spot?” you ask, knowing he can probably hear your cheeky grin. He answers you with a string of quick curses when you decide to keep rolling your thumb over and around the blunt head of his glans, using the other hand to squeeze his shaft and hold it still. An idea occurs to you, and you stop for a moment to wet your thumb in your mouth, figuring it’ll feel better that way, but he misunderstands the interruption.

“Please,” he whispers, and the shaken tone of his voice sends a flood of heat through your body. “Please, fuck...Jake…” he chokes on your name, his legs starting to shake when your grip returns to his dick, now remarkably flushed. You press your thumb against the tip where it was before, now wet with your own spit. This time you keep it light, rubbing in circles and falling absolutely in love with the sounds he’s making - high-pitched and honest, like he’s trying to keep quiet, but can’t help himself. He’s arching up into your hand a moment later, twitching and spilling onto his stomach before you can react, and it makes a truly stunning picture with him all trussed up and straining like he can’t control himself. His head falls back against the bed as he catches his breath.

“Fuck it’s so much better when it’s real,” he exhales under his breath.

“What’s that?” you ask, but he shakes his head blindly from side to side.

“Nothin’.” He lets out a quiet, exhausted laugh, and you quickly decide to get up and find a tissue, wanting to do for him what he did for you when the roles were reversed. The tent in your own pants is an afterthought at this point. You clean him up, but not before running a finger through the mess, just for the scandalous novelty of touching another man’s spunk, and when you’re finished, you toss the tissue and sit next to him on the bed, taking a moment to pet his sweat-dampened hair before pushing the blindfold up. “Hey,” he whispers.

“Hello there,” you smile, surprised at the sudden return of your own bashfulness. He’s still catching his breath, and it’s hard to meet his eyes with the look he’s giving you, because that smouldering fire in your gut hasn’t exactly gone out yet. His gaze flicks down and up while you’re distracted, then something in his expression changes, and he twists away from you onto his shoulder.

“Help me out?” he asks, with a hint of strain. You catch on quickly, and he holds that position while you undo the armbinder’s laces, then remove the implement and drop it back into the box. The moment his hands are free, Dirk sits up and pulls you into a kiss. It starts out with a simple caress of lips, and progresses into his tongue slowly pressing and rolling against yours after coaxing your lips apart. He’s not all worked up like before, but you find yourself making a few small, embarrassing sounds in your throat. Your own breathing has gone ragged by the time he pulls back enough to speak, and his soft words light your face on fire. “Can I get you off?”

You stammer at the question, and he gives you more time to think about it by leaning in and sliding his lips across yours a few more times, which isn’t entirely fair. You’re unsure of yourself again, now that he isn’t all trussed up and blindfolded, but then his mouth is at the side of your neck, leaving a slow trail of warm, gentle kisses. He has always been so very careful with you.

“Alright,” you whisper, not sure what he’s got in mind, but willing to take the leap. He doesn’t move right away, and when he does, it’s only to lie down on the bed like before. He retrieves your pillow and uses it to prop his head up, then reaches out to tug at your waist by the belt loops on your shorts.

“C’mere,” he drawls with a suspicious smile. He coaxes you onto the bed, then directs you to place your knees on either side of the pillow, until you’re practically sitting on his chest. He pulls your zipper down, and you bite your lip as he frees you from the confines of your undergarments, but instead of touching you outright the way you’d expected, he hooks his arms beneath your legs and pulls you closer. You obligingly scoot a few inches forward, but he isn’t satisfied with that and keeps on pulling, until you’ve got both hands on the headboard of your bed and can’t see much else besides the top of his head between your legs. Then something warm and wet - his mouth, that obscenely talented mouth of his - finds the tip of your cock, which has been sorely neglected up until now.

You immediately stuff a knuckle between your teeth, gripping the headboard with your other hand and trying your damndest not to thrust into his mouth like a feral animal. You’re gloriously, breathtakingly sensitive after ignoring your own needs for so long, and his tongue and lips pay special attention to that spot at the tip, like he knows it’ll drive you mad right out of the gate, and you are infinitely glad that you’re the only student currently residing on this floor. You’re close to drawing your own blood before you give up on keeping quiet, and instead grip the headboard with both hands like your life depends on it.

When your self-control slips, which doesn’t take long, he encourages your jerking half-thrusts by pulling at you with his arms around your legs, the message clear. The depth doesn’t bother him, and you know that, but it’s the principal of the thing. You try to pull out enough so that you’re at least not bumping the back of his throat, but that only gives his wicked tongue more room to work, and your eyes roll back at the feeling. It’s extremely unfair how good he is at this. You’re not even sure what he’s doing anymore, the sensations all coming together in a dizzying, heavenly combination of heat and tight, wet friction.

You’re fighting an unnecessary (and losing) battle, trying to keep your hips still and making shallow thrusts into his greedy, welcoming mouth when you can’t. You abandon the headboard to bury your fingers in his hair again, finally giving in to the coaxing pull of his arms and letting out a relieved moan when you push in deep. You were a downright fool to resist this. It feels even more incredible when you start to thrust in and out, giving in to that instinctual urge. He clearly wanted you to fuck his mouth, so you oblige him and do it.

Compared to last time at the studio, this position makes a lot more sense, given what you’ve learned about him. He’s beneath you with his legs still bound, and you’ve got his head trapped between your legs and your hands buried in his hair, giving you the lion’s share of control and making him, temporarily, into something for you to get off on. You’re not cruel, and you’ve never thought of other people as possessions or objects, but the moment your mind touches on that concept, it goes straight to the fire under your skin like kindling.

For the first time, you’re not shy about gripping his hair and pulling his head against you, holding him while you thrust into that irresistible vice. You lean forward and change the angle, pushing his head into the pillow and practically riding his face for a few glorious moments, before throwing your head back with a startled gasp as your orgasm blindsides you, shaking and spilling into his mouth as he eagerly swallows. You try to rise up on your knees so he doesn’t choke, but his head follows, keeping you trapped in the constricting heat of his throat as you moan and pant while he drains you with long, slow sucks, not letting go until you’ve ridden out every last little wave of your orgasm. You’re a complete mess by the time he’s finished.

After you’ve caught your breath and made doubly sure you didn’t choke him, you free Dirk from the remainder of his bindings and return the box of unconventional implements to the closet. He sits with his back against the headboard, and you wind up sideways with your legs over his lap because there isn’t quite enough room to fit next to him comfortably on the bed.

“I swear, on my grandfather’s grave, god rest his soul, that I had no ulterior motives when I asked for help with my homework,” you tell him, sharing your amusement at the cliche implications. He’s taking small sips of the soda he passed up earlier, his shirt wrinkled on one side and his hair still mussed on top. He looks like he’s just stepped out of a photoshoot for some racy, sex-charged advertisement, and you think he’d probably have a lucrative career as a professional model, if he ever cared to. He gives you that charming, lopsided smile.

“Technically speaking, I’m the one who offered.”

“I hope…” you start after a long pause, “I hope I didn’t...get too carried away, or hurt you, or anything like that.”

“Nah, you’re good. I mean...it was really good,” he says, making you blush at the honest affection in his verdict. Then he leans his head back and gives you a long, searching look. “This is gonna sound shitty, but I’m so fuckin’ glad you went broke.”

You give an indignant laugh, then smack him playfully across the leg. “Cheeky!”

“I’m serious. It sucks that you ran outta dough, but I don’t think we would’ve met if you hadn’t.”

“Well, in that case, I suppose it was an outright godsend,” you tell him, meaning every word of it. He grins at you over the rim of his soda, and you distract yourself by searching for the TV remote in your disheveled bed. “I think there’s a science fiction marathon tonight, if you’ve got an extra hour or two.”

“I’ve got all the time you want,” he says. It won’t strike you as an odd thing to say until later, but by then you’ll have wedged yourself next to him and dozed off halfway through the third movie with your head on his chest. Later, you’ll wake up to find that he stole your glasses and placed them next to his on the bedside table, before switching the TV off and falling asleep himself. He’ll accept your offer of an early breakfast at the cafeteria, though you’ll suspect he’s not a morning person judging from his bleary eyes and reluctance to leave your bed despite the sunlight creeping through your window, but you’ll have breakfast with him and make plans for next weekend, and even though it started out as one of the worst experiences of your life, in your new boyfriend’s own aptly put words, you really are glad you went broke.

#mfiction #dirkjake #homestuck fanfiction #are they still called pumpkin patch lmao #ran outta time to post this before work yesterday

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