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sparkypantaloons · 3 years ago

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Only Pieces

Every time he sees Jason he has to remind himself that it’s real. His son, his precious boy, is here and breathing and living. But, alive or not, he still died. And that bit never goes away.

Jason came back, but Bruce still mourns his death.

Love is the whole thing. We are only pieces.

It hits Bruce out of nowhere. Like a rabid wolf materialising out of the warm afternoon air, savaging him in to pieces of the man he once was. Breath, bone and sinew; torn apart and thrown up into the atmosphere. He can’t see, he can’t hear, he can’t speak. Why would he need to? He’s nothing but fragments now. Left to rot down into dust.

“You okay, B?” Tim asks, looking at him concerned.

He pulls his mortarboard hat off Jason’s head, elbows his brother in the ribs.

Bruce blinks. Tries to pull the shards of himself back together. Cobble them into something that resembles human.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, old man.” Jason says, side-eyeing him. He shrugs off the graduation gown as he speaks, throws it over Tim’s head.

Tim huffs, grabbing at the swathes of fabric. His hair sticks up in all directions as the cloth falls into his hands.

Bruce manages a stiff nod. Clears his throat. “We need to leave in five.” He says. The words rise in his throat like glass.

Tim shrugs. “Ready when you are.”Jason doesn’t say anything. He just stares at the older man, eyes narrowed.

Bruce turns. Leaves the library. His vision is blurring, he feels like he might be sick.

Somehow he finds his way to his study. He closes the door more heavily than he intended and it rattles in its frame. The sound is like an assault, all at once too loud and barely audible over the rushing in his ears.

He sits in the chair behind his desk. Gropes for the second drawer down on the right hand side. The whiskey bottle rattles as he yanks the drawer open. Then the liquid rattles down his throat as he drinks straight from the bottle. It doesn’t burn the way it used to, but it still works. Just.

His senses return. Taste first, then smell, the woody flavour of the spirit left lingering in his mouth. Then he can feel the bottle in his hand, round and smooth under his calloused fingers. He watches the liquid settle as he places it down on the desk, the blurring at the edge of his vision disappearing. He can breathe again.

He slumps back in the chair, tilts his head back and takes a deep breath through his nose. A tear escapes the corner of his eye before he can stop it. He wipes it away quickly and takes another deep breath. He can’t do this now.

“Master Bruce?” Alfred is stood in the doorway. His eyes slide from the younger man to the bottle on his desk, and he tilts his head knowingly. “The boys are waiting.” He says gently.

Bruce nods. His eyes are in danger of blurring again. “Jason, he…” He croaks. He screws his eyes shut, takes another steadying breath.

“I know, Master Bruce.” Alfred says kindly. “I saw.”

Bruce drives Tim to his graduation ceremony and Dick comes too. Tim makes his brother sit in the back because even if Dick is the oldest, it’s Tim’s graduation. They chatter away on the journey and Bruce makes sure to laugh or interject at the right moments, to frown or make disapproving sounds when he should. But he’s gripping the steering-wheel too tightly and he’s not fool enough to think they haven’t noticed.

When they arrive, they have photos taken of the three of them. Dick and Bruce in dark blue suits, Tim in between them in his academic regalia. They grin brightly but Bruce only just remembers to let go of Tim when it’s over. Remember’s that he can’t hold his children in his arms forever, no matter how much he wants to.

They mingle before the ceremony, meeting some of Tim’s friends and their families. Brucie Wayne comes out, and Bruce manages to lose himself in the performance. He almost convinces himself that he’s okay, is sure that he will have at least convinced the boys. But when he and Dick take their seats in the hall and Tim has left to sit with the rest of his class, Dick reaches down and takes his hand. He squeezes it tightly and says under his breath “You’re okay, Bruce. It’s okay.”

Bruce has to take another deep breath, then makes the command decision that enough is enough. He slips his hand out of Dick’s, takes out his phone and opens an old WhatsApp group. He sends a short message, then mutes the chat before any replies come through.Today is about Tim.

Bruce slips the phone back into his pocket. He can fall apart later.

Tim accepts his degree and they have more photos. He throws his mortarboard higher than any of the other graduates, and then he puts the cape on Bruce and the hat on Dick for one last photo, grinning between them and clutching his certificate, one arm wrapped tightly around Bruce’s waist.

Back at the Manor there are more photos and Alfred opens some champagne. Steph and Babs are there, Cass and Damian and Jason too. Together they laugh and hug and clink glasses and order pizza for dinner, because Tim didn’t want Alfred cooking when he should be celebrating with his family.

Bruce lets himself slip under the surface of the noise, the sound of his children, bickering and joking and breathing and growing. The sound of the living. He lets the sheer life of them wash over him, feels the splinters of his heart float to the surface. He can breathe again.

Dick watches him from across the room. Bruce pretends not to notice.

It’s a long few hours later when he checks his phone. The old group chat full with unannounced messages.

He slips quietly out of the drawing room. The hallway is cold away from the warmth of his family. He suppresses a chill and makes his way to his study.

Sat at his desk in the quiet and the dark, he feels some of his resolve seep out of him. The Zoom loading wheel spins, then faces begin to populate the screen. There’s Judy in the top right, her horn rimmed glasses sitting atop her thick curly hair. Sal is just beneath her, his French bulldog snoozing in his lap. Top left is Bhavin, Ganesh sat on a shelf behind him, peeking out behind the cloud of white hair. Beneath him, in the bottom left of the screen, is Bruce. Elbows resting on the desk, heels of his hands pressed into his eyes.

“Oh darlin’.” Sal’s southern drawl comes through the speakers. “What happened?”

Bruce can’t speak. His throat has closed up. He’s trying desperately to force his tears back into his eyes, but they slip down under his hands anyway.

"Didn’t your boy graduate today?” Bhavin asks. He’s lived in the US fifty years, but his voice still carries the sound of his native Mumbai.Bruce manages a nod.

“Ah damn.” Judy says softly, pushing a hand to her chest. “That’s hard.”

“It’s been years.” Bruce croaks out. “This shouldn’t… I shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t what?” Bhavin asks him sharply. “Shouldn’t still mourn your child? What his life could have been?”

Bruce takes a deep breath. He finally looks at the screen. “I just… I know today was about Tim, but all I could see was Jason in the cap and gown, clear as day. And all I could think was how he should have graduated. How he should have grown up and been safe and happy and whole and…” He trails off. Stops himself before the tears threaten to spill again.

“He should have.” Judy says emphatically. “Jason should have had all those things. And so should my Tiana, and Sal’s Michelle and Bhavin’s Darshan.”

“It’s not fair.” Sal adds. “It’s not fucking fair and it’ll never be easy. Because you love your boy and he shouldn’t have been taken so soon.”

“My Darshan died forty years ago.” Bhavin says solemnly. “I still cry. I still wonder what he would be like now, who he would have become. Still rage he is not here with me. It never goes away.”

Bruce nods, and it’s Bhavin’s last sentence that keeps the guilt at bay. Because of course Bruce can’t tell them that Jason isn’t dead anymore. He can’t tell them how Jason dragged his small broken bones out of his own grave and clawed his way back to life. How he’s currently sat not fifty feet away, under Bruce’s own roof, surrounded by family and warmth and love.

And part of it doesn’t feel fair. That his boy came back when their children didn’t. But he’d gladly spend the rest of eternity paying whatever debt it is he owes for that miracle. Every time he sees Jason he has to pinch himself, remind himself that it’s real. His son is alive, his precious boy is here and breathing and living.

But, alive or not, he still died. And that bit never goes away.The grief of it comes out of nowhere. On a Tuesday afternoon, in the middle of a board meeting, or out on patrol on a Thursday night. It’ll hit him when he’s eating breakfast, or brushing his teeth, when he’s in the gym, or lying in bed… and the ground will fall out from under him. He’ll plummet into an abyss of grief and despair and rage. His boy, his darling boy. Dead. The life he could have lived, the wonder he could have been. Gone.

Because even if Jason is back, is alive, the dying never goes away.

All the pain and torment that came with it is here to stay, for good. He’ll never be what he could have been and Jason never deserved that.

It’s these three people, these once-strangers, who in some ways helped keep him alive just as much as Tim did, that bring him back from that edge. People who understand just as well as him that feeling of loss. How a taste or a smell can mean nothing one day and have you drowning the next.

Bruce hadn’t bothered to respond when Leslie had suggested he join a support group. She couldn’t possibly understand what it was to lose a child; what value could her advice possibly have? But then the rational part of his mind, what sad, little fragment of it was left, said that a support group could understand. That that was the whole point.

So he’d done it. Apprehensive though he was, he’d shown up on a rainy Wednesday evening all those years ago. At a church hall that wasn’t quite warm enough, serving coffee that was all but cold. Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd’s father. Turns out grief takes the edge off celebrity. Judy and Sal and Bhavin didn’t care who he was, only what he’d been through, only what he’d lost. Being a billionaire didn’t make you immune from loss. Hell, neither did being Batman. Nothing did. They understood that. In a way no-one else in his life did. And all these years later they understood it, still.

“You’re allowed to be sad, Bruce.” Judy says. “A hundred years from now you’re still allowed to be sad. But you have to keep on.”

“Remember Tim did it for him too.” Sal says. “Your boys and Cass are living for Jason too. Just like you are.”

Judy and Bhavin nod in agreement and Bruce finds himself joining in.

“Thank you.” He says. And he means it. “As always.”

“Any time, beta.” Bhavin says. “Any time.”

The screen goes black, and Bruce sits with his thoughts a moment. Already a weight has started to lift and he finds himself glad the night isn’t over yet. That his family is waiting just a short walk away.

Ace pads into the room, rest his head on Bruce’s knee. He scratches the dog behind his ears.

“Err… what are you doing?”

Bruce startles. Dick is stood in the doorway, staring at him with a look of concern.

“Why are you sat in the dark?”

Bruce can’t quite help himself when he says. “I’m Batman.”

Dick rolls his eyes so aggressively they might pop out of his head.

“What are you two doing?” Jason walks in to join them. “Why are you in here in the dark?”

“Why are you in here in the dark?” Dick shoots back.

“I came looking for you.” Jason shoves Dick lightly.

“I came looking for him.” Dick shoves him right back.

Bruce stands and walks towards them. He can't help but smile. “Mission accomplished.” He says. “What fine detectives you both are.”

This time Jason rolls his eyes, but Dick says, “You okay, B?”

Bruce nods, puts his arms around both of their shoulders as they leave the study, and maybe, just maybe, he squeezes Jason a little tighter than normal, relishes the solid aliveness of his second son in his arms. “I’m fine.” He says. “Just fine.”

#batfic #batfamily #jason todd #bruce wayne #angst #red hood #spbfic #batfamily fanfic

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shelby-love · 4 years ago

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CROCKETT MARCEL

Finally.

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Author's note: April scenario 2.0 but this time you're not the one to blame ;)

This shot has been in my drafts for a while now, so I'm happy to have finally gotten the inspiration to finish it. Hope you'll like it xoxo

"Good morning Crockett," you chirped happily as you brushed shoulders with the famous surgeon on a calm Tuesday morning.

The man in question gave you a sideways glance, lips twitching into a handsome smirk. "Well good morning to you too Y/N."

Upon realizing that rising flush decorated your cheeks you scurried to quickly give him a smile before dashing away to safety.

The feeling of your heart thumping loudly in the chest followed you all the way to your patient. You dared yourself to look back at the man you've been growing feelings for, and just as you did so - your body collided against something hard.

Or someone.

"Woah Y/N." It was Will Halstead who grabbed your forearm and yanked you back toward him. "You alright?"

Embarrassed, you nodded and glanced behind yourself. A part of you had hoped that Crockett didn't see what just happened. When you noticed him focusing on the tablet in front of him, you sighed. Phew. Embarrassment evaded.

"Yeah Will I'm alright," you have the ginger a tight-lipped smile. "Thanks for catching me."

"Yeah sure, anytime Y/N." He returned, although his words held a deeper meaning you didn’t quite catch on. Not when your mind worried about a certain dark haired gentleman.

You only bobbed your head awkwardly before brushing a hand against his shoulder in gratitude. "I'll catch you later?"

"Of course." Will smiled, watching you walk away. He sighed in defeat after a tortuous moment. Instead of focusing on you, he gazed toward Marcel who had stolen his long time crush right in front of him without even realizing it.

And Will could do nothing about it.

But he could try.

***

"So," Will strolled inside the lounge, catching Crockett by himself. "You and Y/N?"

Crockett laughed airy. He tried his best to ignore the tension waving off the ginger.

It was true. Crockett and you had something. Was it always there or did it start a few weeks ago is unknown to the both of you. After his daughter had passed away, he thought that life was no longer possible. At least life with someone by his side that does not pity him every second of the day.

You weren't like that of course. Instead of dotting over him, you became his friend he opened up to. After that day there was no mistake that the both of you shared the same feelings.

Only no one admitted it, and guys like Will Halstead became a good exercise for your fresh feelings.

Crockett felt his chest tighten in alert. He didn't like the tone of Will's voice.

"Yeah..." He drawled, testing his words before grabbing for his purple colored stethoscope, readying to leave and get back to work. "What about us?"

"Nothing," Will said. "Just didn't think she'd be into you."

"And what’s that supposed to mean?"

Crockett leaned against the armrest of the corner sofa, utterly displeased with Will's words. "Look Will if there's anything you'd like to tell me why don't you just get on with it? I’d like to get back to work. There are patients I need to see."

Drama wasn't really his thing, but it seemed to follow him wherever he went. "Don't think I've forgotten about you and April. I won't let you do the same to Y/N."

By the time Will's train of thought finished, he was already in his face. Neither knew what came after them but the passive aggression was growing with every second of time that passed.

"Look Will -" Crockett calmed down, keeping his voice pitched to the usual coolness.

But he was getting angry.

"No, you look," His college fought. "Leave Y/N alone."

"You’re serious, right?” Crockett’s smile faltered, his ears barely registering what was being said to him.

“Yes, I am serious!”

“What’s going on in here?”

Both men turned their heads toward you. You were a leg in the room, looking around with furrowed brows. Simply beautiful to the both of them, making the situation a lot more awkward.

“Nothing Y/N,” Will was quick on his feet, reassuring you that there was nothing going on.

But you felt uncomfortable, and didn’t trust him. At least not like you trusted Marcel. You looked at him and waited for answers.

Crockett crossed his arms over his muscled chest and smirked in his usual fashion. “Will. Why don’t you tell the lady why you’re here.”

His tone of voice was teasing, showing just who has the situation turned in their advantage. “Will? What is he talking about?”

“You know what? You win,” Will clicked his tongue. “Have at it.”

You were beyond confused when you stepped aside to let him through. Will roughly brushed pass you leaving, by all means, no room for questions. While you stood there confused, Crockett was very much livid.

“What’s his-” Your words died on your tongue right that moment, as Crockett took steps your way and pulled you to him by the hip. In that kiss was a million loving thoughts projected into a moment postponed until now.

Like pure instinct your hands dove into his curls in a fashion you wanted to do since you’ve come to terms with your feelings. Your gaze travelled to the side as Crockett pulled you against his chest, more closely this time, if that were even possible. His nose tickled your ear as he whispered, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“Then why didn’t you?” You teased. You had imagined your first kiss many times, and never did you ever think possible that it might happen while you both were working.

Crockett shrugged, not wanting to admit jealousy was the final straw for him. Watching Will think he has some sort of claim on you brought out something in him - protectiveness he didn’t feel in a long time. It felt weird, but fulfilling at the same time. He had found something to care for again.

“Hey! You two,” a booming voice spoke, shaking you both away from each other.

It was Maggie who stood behind you, phone in one hand and the other hand one situated on her hip. She stared you both into submission with narrowed eyes. “Back to work. You’re not paid to show PDA. Besides, there're kids here.”

Blushing, you tried to scurry outside which turned out to be a plain fail as Crockett grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into him for another short kiss. He was already used to this, and he could do it forever if it meant it would pull the blush out to your cheeks. And also, so he could show finally the world you were his.

Precisely show you off to Will.

After whispering apologies to Maggie on both your and Crockett’s behalf, you lost yourself in the ED.

When Crockett sheepishly tried to evade Maggie by striding out after you, he turned out to be quite unlucky too as she grabbed his forearm and halted him. “Mind telling me why Will’s walking around my ED, riled up like a bulldog?”

“Will’s angry’“ Crockett faked his surprise, “I wonder why.”

Smirking like a champion, he walked out and had his eyes trained on you from afar immediately.

MASTERLIST

#crockett marcel imagine #crockett marcel x reader #crockett marcel #crockett marcel fanfiction #chicago med #chicago med fanfiction #chicago med imagine #chicago med x reader

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statticscribbles · 4 years ago

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Nomenclature

Summary: Cheryl/Jones!Reader Request: After finding out FP is to blame for Jason’s death; what would happen to their relationship and then after they figure out it was actually Clifford Blossom.

Cheryl’s voice floats into your ears. It’s then you realize she’s not talking to you, she’s talking next to you. To the space closest to you without needing to acknowledge you; you hope it’s because she still has feelings for you. Although as she presses herself against the wall as you step forward; you watch her eyes shine and you understand. Cheryl Blossom, your girlfriend, is afraid. You leave deciding you’re unwilling to know if it is fear for you or of you. “I know what Jones’ are capable of!” She shouts after you. You bite your tongue to not shout back. You let your brother pull you into a hug. “I’m guessing trying to explain it to her didn’t go well?” You shrug as Jughead keeps his arm around you, you follow him from the school and towards the holding cell in the sheriff’s station. “I’m only capable of loving her; why can’t she see that?” You kick a rock from the pathway as you trudge towards the station.

“She can; that’s what scares her. She can avoid a murderer, she can avoid me cause I mean nothing to her. Only thing worse than someone who hates you;” He pauses stumbling slightly so you’re forced to turn around. You catch Cheryl jerking back to hide. “Is someone who loves you.” “Jug, she hates me! Did you not hear her threaten to cut me from the Vixen’s earlier, or about how I shouldn’t touch her with “murder child hands” He laughs as you scowl.

“If she hated you she would have broken up with you. Or gotten you expelled” He nods and shoves you towards her. You keep your eyes on the ground. “I can’t forgive your father.” She spits and you nod. “Can you forgive me?” “Why?” You meet her eyes surprised to see her confused. “You didn’t do anything Y/N, you didn’t kill JJ, you didn’t help your dad hide the body, you did nothing wrong.” “My dad did.”

“Yes he did, but I’m not having my girlfriend suffer due to guilt by association. Beside’s Jason would want me to be happy, and being with you is what makes me happy.” You nod at her turning back as you hear Jughead open the door to the Sheriff’s station. “I have to go, visiting hours are tight.” She nods and you try your best to steel yourself for her being gone once you leave.

Your dad’s not angry you’re still with Cheryl, he seems more surprised than anything, offering you and Jughead only one mouthful of advice. To leave it alone. You’re not a hundred percent sure exactly what he means for you and Jughead to leave alone but you find out quickly when they find a usb drive tucked into Jason’s jacket.

There’s no sound on the video, you’re thankful for that and you stare fearfully at Betty as she moves from the now closed laptop and pulls her phone out. You stumble up, towards your bike, trying to shove Jughead off you, but he keeps his hands on your shoulders. “No Y/N. Stay; it’s safer. You don’t know what they’d do if you show up. The daughter of the man that killed their son?” “It wasn’t dad! It wasn’t him! We have; I have to let Cheryl know! She’s not safe there! She’s not safe!” Jughead nods pulling you back towards the shed. “We’ll take care of it. Seriously, don’t worry.”

“You’re telling me that it’s okay to let my girlfriend stay in a house with her father, who murdered her brother, and I’m not supposed to worry?How would you feel if Betty’s dad murdered someone and she was staying with him?” You snap and smirk when he stays quiet. “Well you still can’t just run up and break her out.” You huff and sit back on the couch.

—————————————————————————————- Despite everything that’s happened it’s school as normal. You’re nervous about returning to Cheryl’s side, as the unwavering popularity had fastened itself around her it seemed to slide off of you. What had been glares for being a Southsider, and then glares for being the daughter of a murderer had now morphed back into a surprisingly normal glare, the envy of being popular, the envy of being with Cheryl.

You settle back into the routine of school, of being with the HBIC; you find small things have changed, one of which is Cheryl bringing you home. You’re slowly growing more terrified as you walk up the steps waiting for her mother or nana to appear and demand you leave and never return. The house is empty, void of anything that resembles the home Cheryl would describe to you. She brings you up to her room, sitting on her bed; you’re expecting to go through the photo albums again; to hear more stories of Jason and her as kids. Instead she grips your hands.

“Why are you still here.” Her voice is as limp as her grip on you; you rub your thumb over her skin and tug her hand into your lap as you pull her into a hug. “Because I love you Cheryl.” “I accused your father, I sent him to jail, you could have-“ she starts “Cheryl, that’s not going to happen anymore, that’s in the past. I have to let that go, yes I’m upset it happened, but I don’t blame you. If I did that, if I blamed and held onto everything that could have happened I’d be so angry and hurt all the time. I wouldn’t have anything to do with my dad, or Jughead, or any of his friends. I’d still be at Southside High, I wouldn’t know you.” You shut her down, pulling her back with you as you lay on her bed. “I love you.” You repeat kissing her face until she smiles against your lips.

“Seriously babe, you need to heal, you’ve been through a lot. No one will blame you for not being sad or upset all the time. I’m here for you.” “Why?” She ducks her head cuddling into you. “Because being with you makes me happy.” You watch her frown almost playfully. “You have to come up with your own ideas. Can’t go stealing mine.” “Well you’ve already stolen my heart.” You laugh and she rolls her eyes. “Can you at least think about getting some different cheesy one liners?” “You know you love them.” You nod enthusiastically. “I love them because I love you.” You nod. “Exactly so by default of loving me, you love them. It’s basic math.”

“And what do you know about math?” You grin and she groans. “Babe please don’t-“ “Well I know that me plus you equals forever.” You laugh when she shoves a pillow at you. “Cherylllll stopppp, wait is it true your pillows are stuffed with cash?” “No that’s a dumb rumor, they’re filled with goose down.” “So no cash at all?” She narrows her eyes. “No, why?” You try your best to stifle a laugh. “Cause-“ You don’t finish before the pillow is smacked into your face.

“I warned you Y/N” You nod smiling at her. “You know you should really let more people see this side of you.” “What side? You mean I should flirt and cuddle with everyone?” You shake your head laughing. “No, just be a little less HBIC all the time. Take a break, relax.” “Well that’s what I’m doing now.” “No with other people.” She rolls her eyes. “No, I refuse.” You sit up and she returns to curling around you, the pillows resuming their place behind your heads.

“I was really scared you were going to break up with me.” You look confused as Cheryl runs her fingers through your hair. “Why would I break up with you?” “Because I accused your-“ “Cheryl, we just-“ “No.” You freeze as she snaps at you. “I accused your father, almost got you sent back to the Southside to a foster family and never being able to see you again!” You nod letting her vent and sputter to you, complaining about herself and her faults. You sit watching and nodding along as her voice begins to crackle and it becomes slightly more sobbing than actually words. You pull her in as close as possible tucking her head against your shoulder as you hold her. “I’m sorry.” You speak into her hair as she shakes her head weakly.

“I’m sorry for not realizing how much this was hurting you. I’m not upset at you Cheryl; I’m upset at the circumstances that pushed us apart but not at you, never at you. I want to be with you, I’m making that choice. Just like I’ve made the choice to forgive you for hitting Jughead, for blaming my dad. You were just grieving, you were hurting and I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry for that. That’s what I’m apologizing for, for not being there for you, my girlfriend, the love of my life. I’m so sorry.” She pulls back to look at you, you move to wipe the tears at the corner of her eyes, and she does the same for you. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away. That’s sort of how I was taught. You either love with everything, or give nothing.” You nod kissing her. “Well then good thing you didn’t push me away properly.” She laughs a little. ‘Can’t even do that right.”

“Hey, babe, stop. I’m here, you’re not a bad person, I still love you. I stayed. I want to stay. I want to be with you.” You rest your forehead on hers and she nods to you. You stay like that for a moment content to watch her, you notice her eyes flickering around you face, you smile and you can see her lips quirk up slightly. “What-“ She nudges your forehead and you close your mouth watching her watch you. “I was memorizing your face.” “Why?” “I want to draw you later.”

“You draw?” You shift on the bed as she nods turning almost shyly from your sight to pull a sketchbook from beside her bed. She holds it out and nods to you, you open it slowly thumbing through the pages. Most are of the Vixen practice, there’s a few of the Bulldog’s practice as well. Reggie and Jason stretching; Archie playing his guitar. Betty and Jughead asleep in the student lounge. Veronica and Josie practicing some song. You look up glancing back as you flip the page, half sketches of you, part of your smile, or your hand brushing your ear. “These are amazing.” She shrugs and pulls the sketchbook back to place it in the drawer she got it from.

“You could ask me you know, to draw me.” You smile and her face lights up, you tilt your head as a grin stretches her face. “Are you asking for me to draw-“ “Cheryl no I want to say it!” She clamps a hand over your mouth. “Draw you like one of those French girls.” She winks and you glare before licking her hand, she wipes it down your face laughing as you cringe.

“It’s your spit, don’t look so disgusted.” “Yes, and it’s supposed to stay in my mouth.” “You say as you lick my hand.” She arches an eyebrow at you and you shrug. “You stole my line.” “I wasn’t aware we’re on the Titanic now.” You half pounce on her pulling her into as tight of a hug as you can manage. “I’ll never let go Jackkkk” You both end up laughing holding each other as you fall asleep.

Support My Writing?

#cheryl blossom x y/n #cheryl blossom #cheryl blossom imagine #cheryl blossom x reader #cheryl blossom x you #riverdale imagine #riverdale request #riverdale reader insert #riverdale #stattic

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s-creations · 4 years ago

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This Lullaby

He knew it was going to be a struggle. They all knew it was going to be a struggle. But raising Della's children, for some reason, makes Donald feel worse than before. And he wasn't sure how to make that feeling go away.

Fandom: DuckTales 2017 / The Three Caballeros Rating: General Audience Relationships/Pairings: José Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles Additional Tags: Original Character, Depression, Loss, Loss of Family.

Part of a Series Called: We’re the Three- Sorry, Six Caballeros!

Hey everybody! Just like the previous entry to this, I have tagged depression on this installment as well. I think it's a bit more pronounced that in the previous story. So, just be warned, it's there.

And someday I'll make a happy story with these six. Someday...but not today.

If Della was there, Donald would want her to explain why she thought Jet, Turbo, and Rebel were good names to give children. I mean, really? Those were names you use for imaginary friends. This was a setup for the triplets to be bullied later in their lives. Seriously, what was she thinking?

But...Della wasn’t there. So, he had to just silently stew. Wondering what her thought process had been.

More than just her naming choices.

Donald named the older triplet Hubert, or Huey, after a captain the older duck has served under. A tough but fair bulldog. Built like a wall and able to punch with the strength of a bulldozer. Or, that’s what the stories swapped between the cadets said. But the bulldog was more of a talker. Wanting to smooth things over any confrontations with words before the fists had to come out. A philosophy that Donald had hoped the older triplet would follow.

Dewford, or Dewey, was given his name by Panchito. The rooster recalled his favorite childhood storybook that he’d read multiple times when the family became too loud. One that told of an adventurer who saves the world on a regular basis. The main character was brave, putting the needs of others before his own and making sure the innocent were kept safe. While it hit a little close to home for Donald, the duck couldn’t help but admit that the name seemed to fit the duckling perfectly.

José had taken a while in naming the youngest. A few days passed before he gave his choice to the other two. Llewellyn, or Louie, named after the parrot’s late grandfather. Shocking both the duck and rooster by the reveal as they’d never heard of this parrot before. José was known to not get along well with his family. He explains, while cradling the green bundled form closer, that his grandfather was the only person José had connected with. The elder parrot had passed when José was only four. Far too soon.

The other two pressed closer after the reveal. Saying that Louie was a perfect name. A wonderful way to remember a good soul.

It was hard getting into a new routine. When the triplets were still eggs, all that was needed was to keep them warm and keep them on a stable surface. Now it was about keeping the triplets entertained. Fed. Cleaned. Making sure they get enough sleep. Deciding if pre-school was a better place to start schooling then kindergarten. When would be the best time for them to start socializing?

“Why is it so hard to find a three seated stroller that can break apart into separate single ones? Do I really have to design my own?” Donald grumbled as he scrolled through the shopping page.

Panchito looked over from his spot on the couch with a raised brow. “Why would we need that? We can just take them on a walk together, all in single strollers.”

“What if José’s not here.”

“Um, a duo stroller with a single one?”

“What if you’re both not home and I need to get out of the house with the kids?”

“...We’ll keep looking.”

The duck couldn’t say this enough times about how thankful he was that Panchito and José were there to help. Trying to balance all of this and worry about keeping a stable job? He would have started molting long before the eggs had hatched.

How would Della have handled this?

While the other two took care of finances, Donald focused his energy and attention on the home front. Even then, caring for the house and the triplets was a...struggle. He wasn’t sure how to raise kids. His own childhood was filled with being dropped off at a new family member’s house every other weekend. Or on dangerous adventures in which he should have and almost did die. Only surviving on sheer dumb luck.

Luck, from him, could you imagine?

Della’s luck didn’t last forever.

The triplets were exploratory the moment they learned how to crawl. If Donald had his back turned for even a second, they would scatter. Thankfully, due to the older duck’s prep work, they couldn’t get into the many places. But that didn’t mean the triplets couldn’t find new areas to help give their uncle a heart attack. Like when Dewey somehow found his way onto the top of the refrigerator.

How? How was that even possible? Donald was feeling absolutely exhausted…

“Do you need me to take some time off? I am sure I can convince my company to give me a few days home to help with the boys and let you sleep.” José offered.

“No no. I’m sure they're still upset since you left so suddenly before, then decided to change location, and then ask for more time off only a few months later? No, you don’t need to worry about that. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I could ask for time off.” Panchito voiced.

“You just started working. Guy, I’m serious when I say I’m fine. The triplets are just a bit of a handful. I got this.”

It wasn’t a necessary lie. But it wasn’t fully true either. Just like when the other two asked if he was okay when they first arrived. Donald knew he was in an unstable state at this moment. He was emotionally and mentally exhausted. Everyday it was an internal battle of wanting his family back and never wanting to experience that kind of pain again. He was still angry with Scrooge and Gyro with how they handled the entire situation. Still hurt that Gladstone was so indifferent or angry without truly being involved. Donald would have reached out to Fethry, but he knew how much of a blabbermouth his cousin was. And he didn’t want Scrooge to know anything about his life.

What was most painful was how torn he was feeling about Della. Donald was furious that she just left. That she would just abandon her eggs, and so easily too. For Donald, it was a declaration that she didn’t want to be responsible. It was just something she wanted someone else to take care of them. How was he supposed to explain this to the triplets when they started asking what happened to their mother?

The turmoil that Donald felt was the idea that...could he really be mad at her? She was gone. Her choice was paid with the ultimate price. So could he hold a grudge with someone who wasn’t there? Who was never going to be there. He wanted to. But he knew it would just drive him further into an unkempt state. Holding a grudge against someone he would never see again. There would be anger burning in him that would never be able to be released.

As if Donald didn’t have enough issues with his anger.

Donald was brought out of his thoughts hearing gentle coos. Eyes traveling over to the standing playpen. The triplets were starting to try and stand. Dewey showed off his skills as he clung to the pen’s wall netting. His brother’s were more interested in the surrounding toys. But the blue dressed triplet was focused on his fractured uncle.

Letting out a small sigh, Donald lifted Dewey up, sitting down by the playpen.

“You should be with your mother… She should be here, raising you three… All of this...it’s all so unfair…” He pulled Dewey closer, cradling the small head with his hand and it was pressed against his chest.

Donald was tired. He was scared. He didn’t know what he was doing. He wondered why Panchito and José would stick around. They were supposed to be living their life in vibrant cities that matched their personalities. Not stuck here. Dealing with the absolute mess that was Donald and his life and his famiy. It was a battle between knowing he needed the help and not wanting to be a burden.

A small pat to his chest brought attention back to the triplet laying on his chest. Dewey letting out a small whimper. As if he was aware of how upset his uncle was.

Donald gave a gentle smile to the duckling. He cautiously stood, collecting the other two, and laid them out on the blanket that had been placed on the floor. Donald laid himself down on his stomach. Laughing softly as the triplets began crawling closer. Babbling as they clung to feathers and attempted to climb onto their uncle.

A misstep from Huey caused him to take a tumble, landing on his back. Small sobs bubbling up as his legs kicked desperately. In response, Donald reached out, cradling the red cladded triplet’s head in his hand while the other rested on the stomach. Huey turned to face his uncle. Unshed tears at the corners of his eyes were gently wiped away.

“Look to the stars my darling baby boys…”

Huey’s eyes lit up, falling completely still as he focused on Donald. Dewey and Louie rolled off their uncle. Instead propping themselves up on Donald’s arms, starting at him as well. Their eyes wide with curiosity.

Now that he had full attention by his audience, Donald started again.

Look to the stars my darling baby boys,

Life is strange and vast,

Filled with wondrous and joys,

Face each new sun with eyes clear and true,

Unafraid of the unknown,

Because I’ll face it all with you.

He was crying before he finished. No sobbing or cracking voice, just tears. The triplets had calmed down and were starting to drift off. Unaware of their uncle finally reaching his breaking point. Donald didn’t flinch when José and Panchito suddenly appeared. Each laying on either side of the duck, whose eyes were still trained on the triplets.

“I don’t think I know that song.” Panchito whispered.

“Della wrote it,” Donald replied, “She’d sing it to them every night… When they were still eggs and she was...you know...still here.”

“It was beautiful. We shall need to sing it more.” José suggested, pressing closer.

Donald didn’t reply right away. Focusing on the warmth seeping in from the bodies pressed against him. “I think there’s something wrong with me. I’m...angry. Not just angry, I can’t focus. I don’t know what I’m really angry about. I think. I just know that I am. I’m so...exhausted.”

The parrot hummed. Reaching up to preen at the exposed white feathers. “I think...you have had a lot of things being thrown at you. Very quickly. Without a way to fully...understand how to deal with it. Like me.”

“Like you?”

“Very much like me. I believe it would benefit you if you saw someone. It has helped me.”

“...When have you started seeing a therapist?”

“A few years now. Panchito convinced me to do so.”

“I can try and convince you as well.” The rooster added with a smile.

Donald gave a soft laugh. “No...I’ll go… I think I need to go. I know I need it… I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. We understand, we are just here to help.” José whispered, Panchito nodded softly as he laid his head on the duck’s shoulder.

Donald let out a shaky breath, eyes closing as he sank into the warmth surrounding him.

“It will be okay. We are here for you and it will be okay…”

_____________________

Donald let out a slow breath, scrunching himself further down into the cushioned chair. The triplets were babbling happily resting in their three seated stroller. All being entertained by Panchito while José focused on the older duck. The waiting room for the therapy office was small, with only a few cushioned chairs, a fake plant pushed into the corner, with a magazine rack hanging on the wall. The reception desk was situated across from the entrance with a large window resting across from where the six of them were resting.

Donald was realizing how cold this office was.

“You will be fine. Dr. Bessing is amazing. I have only been with her for a few months, but I trust her.” José said as he took Donald’s hand gently.

“What if I don’t like her?” The duck questioned quietly.

“Then we find someone else. And we will keep doing this until we find someone you do trust. It will be fine,” José smiled softly, “Do you trust me?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Then trust me when I say you will be cared for.”

Whatever bravado Donald had started to build was instantly broken when the nearby door opened. A robin with short brown hair and casually dressed entered, carrying a clipboard. She smiled over at the six of them. Giving a small coo seeing the triplets before her full attention went to Donald. “Mr. Donald Duck?”

José gave a gentle nudge, giving an encouraging smile as Donald slowly stood. He was led to where the back offices were. Entering one of the rather small rooms, the large window showing the garden behind the building being the first thing Donald noticed. It was sunny outside, the light hitting the garden path perfection. It looked like it came from a photograph.

The office itself was small, but rather cozy. Warm and inviting. Even with the numerous medical items seen around the room. A desk was pushed against the wall that was across from the window, framed with paperwork and books, a closed laptop resting in the center, and a leather, armed chair placed before it. Numerous diplomas were hanging on the wall above said desk. A cushioned chair was facing the desk, with a small end table nearby that was covered with numerous children’s toys. A large bookshelf was placed by the window and was filled with a number of thick volumes. Donald couldn’t really read all the titles. But from what he’d been able to see, they all held something about psychology.

“Go ahead and take a seat.” Dr. Bessing smiled as she took the seat by the desk. Donald let out a shaky sigh as he did as was suggested. “So, how are you feeling today? I know therapy can be a little overwhelming for the first time.”

“Um...yeah, I am a little nervous.”

“Completely understandable. You’re not used to opening up to complete strangers and now you're suddenly supposed to change your whole outlook? In one hour? It’s a weird feeling. But I am here to assure you that you have nothing to worry about. This is a safe space and nothing will be shared with anyone unless it’s on your say so.”

“Okay… Um, did José tell you...anything? I-I know you’re seeing him. Am I allowed to know that? I’m not breaking any rules am I?”

“No, you’re all good. José is allowed to share who he sees and what we talk about if he wants. The clients are in control as to what’s shared with other members of the family and friends. As far as him telling me anything, he just informed me you’re having a bit of a family issue. Nothing more. I want you to tell me what’s happening in your life. Even if he’s your husband, he can’t speak for your experiences directly. And, I will say this again, nothing leaves this room unless you want to share it. Either here or at home. It’s about making you feel safe.”

“Okay… I… Where do I...how do I start this?”

“Why don’t you just start with what brought you in today. What has happened currently that would make you feel that you need to see someone.”

Donald nodded, rubbing his hands together. “...Sorry, I really don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“That’s fine. First session is an open book, you just talk with whatever comes to mind, and it sounds like there’s a lot to tell. Just take a few minutes, try and get everything in order, and start when you feel ready.”

Taking a few deep breaths, Donald allowed himself a few minutes. Eyes traveling to the garden as he tried to find the right words to start with. A small smile formed seeing numerous daffodils growing proudly among the green.

Della’s favorite flower...

He gave another nod and started.

#Donald Duck #Jose Carioca #Panchito Pistoles #jose carioca/donald duck/panchito pistoles #The Three Caballeros #the three gay caballeros #s-creations

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loudsuitlover · 5 years ago

Text

Doctor Harry VI. Cerca del suelo

A/N: DISCLAIMER THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE STORY, I just want to write this here so I can read it when I get writer’s block again. I had forgotten how much I like writing. I guess I can say writer’s block is a really long, torturous and terrible thing but I’m starting to think it happened to me when my writing started getting attention because then I started writing for others and I don’t enjoy that half as much as I enjoy writing to myself. So this writing and this story is for me; but I’m gonna share it with you. That being said, happy reading!

Before: I, II, III, IV, V

**Contains filthy sinful smut and explicit language.

Ollie frowns before she bites her bottom lip and twirls her drink on her hand and I too watch the ice cubes dancing around on her glass. Jason laughs at something he’s told Marie on her ear and by the way her eyes widen and her cheeks turn pink I don’t want to know what he’s said.

“Indie.” Jason calls me. “Are you going to tell us or not?”

“Yeah, what happened?” Marie gives me a little smile.

She’s drunk already. I watch her tiny figure on her black top and her jeans and am afraid she keeps drinking because she’ll end up throwing up like I did last Friday. She gave me such a hard time this morning when I told them about my night with Harry even though Jason cut me short in order to keep the hype for this very same moment. Drinks after dinner and gossip. His favourite Friday night plan.

“Penis size.” Jason demands.

I roll my eyes before I smile at him mischievously as he joins his hands before his face as if he were going to pray and then slowly moves them away and away. Obviously I don’t say anything and his eyes widen.

“What?!” His hands keep separating from one another. “Okay, this is impossible. I’m starting over.”

Ollie throws her head back and laugh and I just shake my head. Marie tries to stop his hands and he gives up.

“It was big.” He shrugs. “The smile you got this morning confirmed it.”

We all laugh.

“I still can’t believe you actually slept with him.” Marie condemns. “He’s your tutor for God’s sake. He has to supervise your freaking essay! Have you thought about how you’re going to go on about that?”

“Okay, Marie, you need to calm down. It’s just an essay. It’s not like they have to perform an open-heart surgery together.”

“Harry told me if I wanted he could ask professor Gibbins to supervise my essay for me.” I shrug.

“But you’re not gonna do that, right?” Olivia asked.

I shrug again.

“See? That would clearly means it affects you academically.” Marie adds.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Jason intervenes. “How is he coming on about it?” I fix my eyes on his with a questioning look. “I mean what has he said?”

“Well let her finish!” Olivia complains. “All we know is they had sex. We don’t know any details.”

“Well I’m not planning on giving you any details.”

“See? You killed the vibe guys!”

I roll my eyes.

“He didn’t say anything.” I tell them. “Because I left before he woke up.” I flinch.

Marie’s jaw falls, Olivia starts choking with her drink and Jason, being the dramatic queen he is, just spits his.

“You did what?” He yells.

“I panicked!” I defend myself. “I just… It all happened pretty fast I wasn’t even expecting to have sex with him at all and then we did and I fell asleep accidentally and I woke up at like 5 am and left because… Well because what was I doing there?”

“When you mean you fell asleep accidentally, you mean he tired you out so bad you literally just fell asleep?” Jason’s eyes provoke me with his usual spark I’ve missed so much lately.

I’m glad my drama is at least bringing playful Jason back. I haven’t heard him teasing any of us like that in weeks so I roll my eyes and sit back on my chair.

“And he hasn’t called you or text you or something?” Marie asks.

I shake my head and she places her hand on top of mine. This is what I love about Marie. I know she doesn’t approve of what I did but the way she cares about me overcomes her disagreement. She might not want me to get involved with Harry, but she’ll feel sorry for me if I don’t get what I want anyway.

“How is he going to call her if she’s the one who left?” Jason says. “You should call him!”

“But he’s the guy…” Marie shrugs. “Usually is the guy who calls.”

“Maybe that’s why I wasn’t good with girls.” Jason shrugs.

“You weren’t good with girls because you’re gay.” Olivia smiles.

“I’m bisexual.”

“You’re not.”

Jason smiles at her.

“The fact that I was never attracted to you does not make me gay, Ollie.”

She shrugs and pouts raising her eyebrows and if the concept whatever had a face, I’m sure it would be that one. They both laugh because they’re the same person in two different bodies. That’s the reason why JJ was never attracted to Ollie but they’re not ready to talk about that.

“So on Monday you’re just gonna go to his office with your essay and wait for him to give you corrections after not even calling him after you disappeared on him.”

I don’t know whether that was a question, an accusation or opcion C. I shrug. Olivia rolls her eyes and grabs my phone.

“Let me see.”

“No, Ollie! No, give it back!”

Jason defends her standing in the middle of us two as she unblocks my phone. I call for Marie’s help and she tries to grab the phone away from her but Olivia’s taller so my little ally has little to do.

“Where to begin?” She thinks out loud. “How should I start J?”

“Just call him.” Jason lets out.

“Do not. Do not call him.”

“Guys don’t be cruel.”

Marie tries to grab my phone back as the nerves eat my stomach up. I feel like puking.

“I’ll text him!” I offer and I spot Olivia’s head popping up from behind Jason’s back. She’s got a single eyebrow up and JJ and her exchange a look.

“I wouldn’t trust her but she’s about to cry. Give her the phone.” He shrugs.

Ollie hands me the phone and I check she didn’t text Harry anything with my heart pounding against my rib cage.

“What do you think I should do, Marie?”

Her eyes widen while Olivia and Jason complain about why I’d ask her and ignore them. I think Marie’s going to tell me she doesn’t know, that she doesn’t have much experience with guys, because ever since her ex cheated on her she hasn’t gone out with anyone but deep down I know I just want for someone to tell me I don’t have to call him and I think Marie is going to say that. Instead she shrugs and wraps her little arm around my shoulders.

“I think we should have another drink.”

Oh, Marie, you’re drunk and not helping much. I see Ollie and Jason arguing as we lean at the bar and wait for the waiter to take our order. He eyes my friend once as Marie looks to her nails. He eyes her again and smiles to himself.

“Marie, the waiter’s got the hots for you.”

Marie looks at him as he takes an order and then back at me with a questioning look. Damn it, she’s so unlucky. If this was a movie she would have caught him staring but this is not and that’s why Harry hasn’t called me either because this is not a movie, this is real life and in real life girls like me don’t go out with guys like Harry.

“I think you should text him.”

My eyes bulge as I look at Marie.

“What can I offer the prettiest girl at the bar?”

I hear her giggles from behind me. Good job, waiter. If he had said that to me I would have rolled my eyes and told him to get himself some glasses but this is Marie we’re talking about. She probably is the prettiest girl at the bar anyway and she’s also a firm romcom believer so that pick-up line was perfect for her.

“I’ll have Bacardi and coke and Bulldog and tonic, please.”

He winks at her before he disappears to get our drinks ready.

“What did you say?” I ask her as soon as she turns around.

“You didn’t want Bulldog? I can probably ask him to change it, sorry!”

She’s about to call the waiter when I stop her.

“No!” I tell her. “I mean, did you say you think I should call Harry?”

“I said text.” She points. “And yes, I did because I think you should. I just didn’t say anything in front of Jason and Ollie for them not to think they were right. Lord knows they don’t need me to feed their ego.”

Before I can argue, Marie’s waiter comes back with our two drinks and a bowl with gummy bears we didn’t ask for. He winks at Marie and doesn’t tell her how much she ought to pay. I smile. He’s good. Marie hands him her credit card anyway.

“It’s on the house.”

“No, it’s not.” She smiles.

“I insist.”

“If you want to offer me a drink, I’d rather you have it with me.”

My eyes widen behind my friend and I see the waiter blushing and laughing. Well done, Marie! He then accepts her credit card and asks for her phone number and my friend gives it to him and turns around as if that happened to her on a daily basis. We walk away like divas until we are at a safe distance and then we laugh out loud.

“What was that? Did Olivia’s spirit posses you?”

“I don’t know!” She laughs. “I mean we talked last night while you were on your date with Harry and you know how she is, she tried to convince me about the benefits of sporadic sex and I don’t know, it got me thinking.” She giggles. “He was handsome, right?”

“He was!” I laugh. “Guys, the waiter just asked for Marie’s number!”

“What? Which waiter?”

Jason’s eyes widen as he looks at her and Marie tells him the story and I don’t fail to notice the way Olivia’s eyes fall on her and she smiles knowingly. Oh, Ollie. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and hug her to my side even though she just tried to ruin my life by calling Harry treacherously because I know she means well.

I remember when she would tell Jason about how different things were when you actually took the time to get to know the person you were attracted to and everything about love and trust and forever and ever and Jason would go out with a different person every weekend.

It’s surprising how a heartbreak can change a person, just how love can change them back I guess for after Jack hurt Olivia she turned into Jason and ever since Jason met David he turned into a romantic soul defending and justifying a toxic relationship.

I wonder if there’s ever a healthy point. I think there might be if one of them or maybe both are psychotherapists but otherwise I think love is bound to make people crazy and then they start doing weird shit until the situation turns impossible and then one of them decides to end it or they both settle into being less happy than they could be.

“Yeah, right, and then he pays for dinner and thinks for that he has the right to fuck you and then he never calls you again.”

Marie’s words resound on my head like a mantra. And then he never calls you again… That would make everything easier and anyway part of me knew everything he wanted was a shag and then he’d get over it and act as if nothing ever happened but then why does it matter to me that he hasn’t called me?

“Sorry.”

When I look up I catch on the look Jason gave Marie for her to apologize. I don’t think they were talking about me but even if they were, I wouldn’t mind. They’re right. I feel like a prostitute.

“Anyway, Indie” Ollie has a sip from her drink and wiggles her eyebrows “did you like it?”

“What? The sex?”

She nods and shrugs raising her eyebrows as if saying what else?

“Well, Harry we all know you like.” She laughs.

What can I say?

“It was incredible.” I confess.

I don’t want to say what follows. I don’t even want to think about it. It can’t be true anyway. There’s no way it’s true. I don’t love Harry. But precisely because I don’t love him I could admit it was the best sex without love of my life. Yeah, that could be it. It doesn’t make me feel less guilty though.

“Well, at least it was worth the trouble.”

“What trouble?” Ollie asks.

“Well, I mean it’s not the smartest thing to do if she wants him to respect her.” Marie raises her eyebrows.

“What?” I will not stand that. “So just because I have sex I don’t deserve respect?”

“No, Indie, you know what I mean. I just mean if the rest of doctors hear about it, what do you think they would think?”

“Why would I care what they think?” I am getting mad. “I can’t believe you’re saying that, Marie. It’s precisely for comments like that that we can’t move past it. Do you realize how sexist you’re sounding right now? You don’t think that same thing of him, do you? Just because he’s a man!”

“I am the sexist? You were the one who let her professor fuck her! Who knows how many students has he fucked?”

I can’t believe my ears.

“Let him fuck me?” I’m disgusted at her choice of words. “There were two people on that bed, you know? I did what I wanted to do. I didn’t let him fuck me. I fucked him too!” I only realize I’m screaming when I notice the eyes of those around us on me. “I know how to say no, you know?”

“Well you said you didn’t want to sleep with him and look at you.” She whispers. “Are you sure you didn’t leave in the morning because you regretted it? Maybe you were even embarrassed?”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this to me.”

I leave Marie gasping like a fish out of water and walk outside to the terrace. It’s the end of October already and it’s rather chilly today so I’m not surprised when I realize the only people around me are smoking.

I bring the collar of my denim jacket to my chin and hug my frame as I look ahead at the lights on the bars on the other side of the street. I can’t believe Marie had said all that to me. One minute she’s saying she thinks I should text him and the other she’s throwing all that shit at me. I know she’s overly protective but she can be such a bitch sometimes too.

And I quite frankly don’t get the concept she has of sex. She almost made it sound as if Harry had somehow raped me and for the love of God even thinking about it makes me hate her words. What happened with Harry was… Perfect.

And that’s why I left.

I feel tears blurring my vision. Fuck. I wasn’t expecting these thoughts to be clouding my mind now. I feel my phone vibrating and take it out the pocket of my jacket. Rio said he would text me when he was going home and check if I needed a ride but it’s too soon for him to want to go home already. Maybe he’s having a shitty night just like I am.

Harry: What are you doing?

I hold the phone on my hand and can barely believe my eyes as I read his text again and again. I hadn’t even thought about one of the many terrible things Marie just said. How many students has he fucked? I don’t know if I care. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t care about how many women he’s fucked in the past or even how many women he’s fucking now. I can’t walk around pretending I’m the most liberated woman and then question how many women my partner has fucked. If he’s fucked a lot of students well, good for them.

He clearly has experience. One isn’t a master in sex by studying about it. The way he touched me and the way he hit every spot he needed to clearly indicated practice. But it’s not about the practice or even the sex. I don’t care about that, that I know. It’s about fucking students.

I entertain the thought that Marie might be right. What if he did take advantage of me? What if he always does this? Make his student wet and then get in her panties and if I’ve seen you, I don’t remember. This is the kind of behaviour I would condemn if I heard about it. I would be one of those people who would think he was a jerk for taking advantage of a student like that. I guess that’s just another way of being sexist though.

“Hey.” Olivia places her hand on the spot between my shoulder blades.

“Hey.” I give her a little smile.

“Marie’s really sorry.” She mediates. “She wanted to come talk to you but I told her it was better if she gave you some space.”

“Do you think she’s right?”

Olivia shakes her head.

“Do you?”

It’s hard for me to know that kind of things now. It’s a fear I can’t get rid off. After Javier, I mean after getting out of an abusive relationship like that, I keep wondering if I would ever jump right back into another. Whether I’m that profile of girl and I’m bound to have my partner abusing of me whether I realize it or not.

I’m seeing that with Jason too and I realize how scary and how hard it is. He doesn’t see it, he’s completely blind and you start wondering how is it possible that not only he doesn’t realize but he also justifies it. It’s very frustrating to talk to someone that not only allows someone else to hurt them but actually understands them. It’s scary what someone can do to somebody’s mind.

“Can I tell you what I think?” Olivia lights up the cigarette between her lips and I shrug. “I think you like him.”

I look ahead. That doesn’t matter. I still have my phone on my hand and we both look down when the screen lights up and another text pops up.

Harry: Are you home?

“And he likes you too.” Olivia smiles. “Answer him. I’m gonna get us another drink.”

Indie: It’s Friday night. Of course I’m not.

Harry: What? You go out every single Friday night?

Indie: Don’t you?

Harry: Sometimes I forget you’re 21.

Harry: Can we talk?

Indie: We’re talking.

Harry: I mean can I see you?

Indie: It’s Golden Girls’ night.

Harry: Can I call you then?

Indie: What’s the problem with texting?

Harry: Sometimes you forget I’m 27.

I chuckle and call him. He answers on the first beep.

“Why did you leave?”

Oh, boy.

“I had to go. You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You had to go? In the middle of the night?”

“It was morning…”

“Indie.”

“I wanted to go home before uni so I left early. I didn’t realize I had to give you any explanations.”

“Fuck, Indie. Are you always so blunt?”

“I did warn you. You said I got to be blunt.” I shrug even though he can’t see me.

“You didn’t even let me say goodbye.”

“Well, it’s not like you saying goodbye would have made a difference, is it?”

“I would have kissed you” he argues “and that would have made a difference.”

My knees go weak.

“Are you with Olivia?”

“Yes?”

Please tell me he’s not about to ask me for her phone number. I would tear his head off.

“Okay. I’ll see you.”

I feel tickles on my belly as I make my way inside the bar. Jason gives me an innocent smile as Marie looks at me as if I was the one deciding whether she should go to prison or not. I offer her my hand across the table and she holds it as her bottom lip tremble. I know she’s sorry and God knows sometimes I say things I don’t mean too. It would be very hypocritical of me not to let it go now.

I see Olivia smiling on the phone and give my friends a questioningly look but they shake their head. Jason stands up from the table and tells us he’s leaving. I’ve already fought with Marie tonight and quite frankly I don’t feel like fighting him about the same thing again but silently we all know he’s going because David doesn’t like it when we party until morning. I give him a hug though as he says goodbye.

“Whaaaat?” Ollie pouts. “You’re leaving? What’s this? Where are the party animals I used to know and love? Mario’s on his way!”

I spit my drink. Marie’s eyes set on mine. We’re both horrified.

As soon as Jason leaves Marie comes back with two more drinks, a peace offer she says, but I know she just wanted to see her waiter again. I appreciate the drink though. I had enough thinking tonight and I want to let it all go. Getting drunk doesn’t solve anything. Alcohol would make her shut up too.

“When did this happen?” I interrogate Olivia.

She’s been making all these questions to me and she hadn’t told us this bomb!

“He’s my tutor…” She shrugs. “So the other day we had a cup of coffee while we went on about my clinical case and…” She smiles. “He’s funny.”

“And?”

“And… We started talking.”

“And how does he have your phone number?”

“I gave it to him.”

I raise my brows. If she’s gonna make us ask every little piece of information… We will.

“Why?”

“Because I have to catch up on the practices I missed when I went to France to visit my mamie.”

Marie and I look at each other with mouths agape before we both look at her.

“And you’re going to catch up on that now?” Marie asks.

Olivia rolls her eyes and grins as she waves at someone at the door. Marie and I turn our heads and my breath catches on my throat when my eyes meet the green.

Harry’s grinning as he walks towards us. Marie’s foot keeps kicking me under the high table but my eyes don’t leave his. I don’t think I could look away if I tried. Memories of last night play in my mind like a movie and I wonder if they play on his too. I woke up on his bed this morning for crying out loud.

“Hi.” He greets us.

“Hi.” Marie offers him her little hand and he shakes it amused.

“Hi.” I smile and his green eyes set on my lips.

If I had any doubts… He’s definitely thinking about last night too.

“Hi, Mario.” I give him another smile and he smiles back.

“Hi, Indie. How are you?”

He’s grinning like a kid in Christmas and he looks so much younger than he normally does at the hospital. I almost want to aww at him but I won’t. Oh, Ollie, please don’t hurt him. He looks like a teddy bear.

“This is my cousin Tommy.”

Mario introduces the third guy that came with them and he sits down next to Marie. The perfect sync tells me they’ve talked before they got here. Marie laughs at something Tommy says and I roll my eyes. She really needs a shag like Ollie says.

Ollie and Mario disappear to order drinks for all of them and Harry simply stands next to me with a big smile. I don’t know how I feel about him not being even a little annoyed that I left without waking him even though I didn’t do it to annoy him but… It still bothers me a little.

“Let me guess” I tell him “A glass of water for you.”

He throws his head and laughs.

“I actually drink Sprite when I go out.”

“Sprite?” I chuckle. “I’ve never met anyone who drinks just Sprite. I mean anyone over six years old.”

He chuckles.

“Well, I’m Harry. Nice to meet you.” He offers me his hand and I shake it. “I drink just Sprite when I go out and I normally say goodbye to people I fuck before I leave.”

Ouch. I narrow my eyes at him but don’t say anything and as if on cue, Olivia and Mario appear with his Sprite and Mario’s and Tommy’s drink. I look away from him and pay attention to Tommy as he tells Marie about his life but the entire time I can feel Harry’s eyes on me.

I notice women look at him too but he doesn’t seem to care. Instead he looks at me. He knows he’s annoying me. I wonder if he’s so used to women staring and trying to get with him that his brain doesn’t even see it anymore like it does with our noses.

“Is there something on my face?”

He shakes his head and that stupid smile stays.

“But it’s hard for me not to see you naked on my mind.”

My face heats up immediately and horrified I look at both my friends but they’re both busy chatting up the Italian cousins. He leans closer to my body so he can whisper in my ear.

“And remember how you taste” my breathing trembles “and how you smell” he inhales my parfum and hums in appreciation and I feel my fingers tightening around my drink “and how you feel, so tight and wet and warm” his fingers wrap around a strand of my hair and he glides them down until the tip before he rests it on my back.

“Why me?”

As I turn my neck to face him, I hear him suck in a breath at our proximity. I play it cool but my mouth goes dry too, especially when I see I have that effect on him too.

“Why you what?”

“Why do you insist on me?”

“So pretty with your lips red.”

I sigh and look away from him. If he’s not going to answer my questions then I won’t give him the time of the day.

“I don’t know.” He confesses next to me.

I turn my neck again and stare into his green eyes searching for any sign of lying but all I find is sincerity and confusion? Is he as confused as I am?

“Don’t lie.”

I hear him puffing through his nose and watch him. His jaw clenches.

“I told you I don’t lie.” He reminds me. “I really don’t know, Indie. I don’t know why I can’t get you out of my head but I can’t and I want to fuck you all the time.” He shrugs.

I remember what he said about always saying what’s going through his mind and after that, I believe him. I feel my mouth going dry and I want him to fuck me too. I’m afraid this man can read my mind because I don’t know why but I know he knows that too. Maybe I can read his mind too or maybe I’m as obvious as he is.

“Come home with me.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I still have some questions to ask him and I want to stop thinking again. I think last night was the first time I stopped torturing myself in three years and I want to feel like that again.

I guess it’s strange that it doesn’t feel weird to me to walk next to him towards his car or that we said our goodbye to my friends as if it was normal that we left together and it’s also strange that I like the way people look at us down the street. He doesn’t walk too close to me or touches me at all and I reckon he might be as scared that someone from the hospital would see us together as I am. My phone vibrates and Rio’s name appears on the screen.

“Hi, Blue.” My brother’s deep voice greets me.

Everyone in my family has always called me by my middle name. I only started being Indie when I met Dylan.

“Hi there. Going home already?”

“Yeah, the guys wanted to go clubbing but since we have mum’s meeting tomorrow morning I thought it smarter to go home.” He chuckles.

“Yeah.” I chuckle too.

“Are you coming?”

“No, not yet.”

“Are you with Jason and the girls?”

“Yeah.” I lie.

“Cool. Don’t come home alone. Call me if you need me to pick you up.”

“Sure, Rio. Thank you.”

“That’s okay. Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

“Who’s Rio?” Harry asks as soon as I hang up the phone.

If he wants to know about my family I’ll answer his questions. I don’t mind talking about my family. Other things... Well, that’s another story.

“Rio’s my brother.”

He nods. I’m surprised when he doesn’t ask anything further but he seems awfully quiet. Just ten minutes ago he was teasing me and he seemed to be ready to fuck me against that very same table and now he seems to be deep in thought. I don’t know why but I don’t like seeing him like this. I like the carefree, smiley Harry who doesn’t seem to have a worry in the world.

“Is everything alright?”

It’s the first time he looks at me like that. His green eyes seem dull and I feel like I just touched something that I shouldn’t. His gaze makes me shiver. He sighs and looks ahead and simply shakes his head.

Once again his sincerity surprises me. I’m gonna have to start believing that he does not lie. Out of nowhere, because I don’t like seeing him like that, I reach for his hand and hold it in mine and he eyes our intertwined hands together before he removes his as if mine burnt. What burns then are my cheeks. Why did I do that?

I am beyond embarrassed and I’m glad he isn’t making any comments because the last thing I want right now is to talk about it. If he were to say something, I’d thank him for removing his hand from mine. It still stings.

Lustful imagines fill my mind as we make our way inside his apartment and my eyes fix on the same wall he had me pressed against less than 24 hours ago. My mouth goes dry just by thinking about it and all I want is for him to take me like he did the night before. I turn to look at him and my eyes must speak for me because without wasting another minute he kisses me against the door.

He still has his keys on his hand, the one that’s resting on my waist, until he lets them fall and I hear the jingling sound against the floor and then his hand snakes under my denim jacket and he places his palm on my back pulling me to him and pressing my chest against his.

His lips are soft and tender and he tastes sweet and minty. I enjoy the way he knows how to use his mouth, his kisses having a direct line with my belly, that flips and roars and sends electricity to the rest of my body; and my fingers find a home on his hair as I gently tug at his soft strands. His tongue licks my lips before he rolls it over mine and we start a wet battle I don’t mind losing.

Holding my body close to his with one hand on my back, he takes my jacket off with the other, letting it fall to the ground. On the silence of his apartment, I hear the fabric when it hits the floor and forms a blue denim mound, and I hear our mouths and our breaths mixing together.

Without saying a word or stopping our kiss, he walks along the grey hall and guides me backwards towards the bathroom inside his bedroom and only once inside he breaks the kiss and turns my body around, pressing my back against his chest.

The walls are pearl grey but this time it’s a grey tile with horizontal stripes that remind me of the blunt tips of those mountain rocks where you can see the layers that build the mountain. The sink is part of a white marble top that stands below a big mirror where I can see his hands caressing the skin of my bare arms before one hand presses against my belly through my dress and up to my chest where he cups one of my breasts and squeezes the flesh. I moan and rest the back of my head on his shoulder and he takes the opportunity to kiss, suck and nibble on the skin of my neck. I watch on the mirror his right hand grabbing the hem of my dress over my right thigh and lifting it up until he exposes my hip.

Delicately his large hands grab the hem of my dress and carefully lifts it up until he takes it off me and then his wandering hands caress the skin of my front and massage my breasts. His hot breath on my shoulder raises goosebumps and ignites my desire for him.

“You’re so soft.” He whispers on my ear before he presses a single kiss against my pulse. “And so warm.”

He stops touching me and it’s like he leaves me naked all over again. I tilt my neck so I can see him and he captures my lips with his and dives his tongue inside my mouth. I moan and press my bum against his groin and I can’t control my arousal when I feel his excitement against my hot skin. I feel his fingers moving against my back as he unbuttons his shirt and I focus on the noises. His breathing on my ear, the soft fabric falling down his arms, his zipper going down…

He stops my hands when I try to unclasp my bra and I still see him through the mirror unclasping it himself and placing all my garments together on the marble top. I am not even aware of my own reflection since Harry’s steals all my attention and doesn’t let me see anything else. His body is athletic and tall and his skin is pale and inked and I want to run my tongue across all of him and kiss every corner of his body. Leaving my undies on, his large hands caress my legs as he kneels down and playfully bites the flesh of my ass as he takes off my shoes.

I think my mouth is so dry I couldn’t speak if I wanted to but there’s nothing to say anyway. There’s something about this silence between us as if we were accustomed to each other that keeps me quiet. Finally he snakes both his hands under the hem of my panties on either side of my hips and caresses down my legs taking my underwear down with his hands. When we are both fully naked, he gently pushes me so I walk inside the shower and he closes the screen behind us.

There’s no sign of the playful Harry, neither of the filthy Harry I got to know last night. Instead he looks at me as if I was the most precious thing on the world and I feel my legs turning into jelly under his worshipping stare. Despite his calm, his length rests against his belly stiff, tight and shinny and my mouth waters. I wonder if he’d let me wrap my mouth around him if I asked but I’m afraid of doing so. He doesn’t seem to mind my curious staring as he approaches me and corners me against the wall. His hand snakes behind me and he turns on the water that falls on top of us and get us soaked in seconds.

My eyes are closed when his hot mouth gapes against mine before he fully kisses me and his hands fall to my ass, grabbing my flesh as he presses me against his hard on. I thank God he’s holding me for otherwise I think my legs would have brought me down already.

Stamping wet kisses everywhere his lips land, he turns my body slowly so that my back is pressed against his front once again and I moan out loud when I feel his fingertips tickling the insides of my thighs. My mouth parts at the touch of his two middle fingers intruding ever so delicately and his worked up breathing against my cheek sends my chest into a frenzy.

My left hand caresses the skin on his arm as his wrist moves back and forth and his fingers curl deliciously inside me and my other hand searches for his hair and caress his scalp.

“You’re so beautiful, Indie” He presses a kiss against my shoulder “Do you like it?”

“Yes.” My voice is all but a whisper but he doesn’t press it.

His fingers make me lightheaded but have me dying for more so I press my hips against his and moan when I feel his hot, stiff length against the low of my back. He grunts and his fingers fasten making me lose my mind completely.

“Harry” I moan, swallowing the water that falls on my mouth from the shower in an attempt to hydrate my throat. “I want you.”

“I’m right here.” He whispers.

“I want you inside.”

I bend my neck so my eyes look into his because I’ve found he’s very good at reading them and I want him to see them beg, in case he didn’t have enough with the desperation of my voice.

“Fuck, Indie. I don’t… I don’t have a condom.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

I turn my body around and bring his mouth to mine with my hands on his neck. Our lips meet and battle and Harry’s merciless mouth attacks mine before his tongue soothes every red blood patch. I feel my lungs closing on me at the anticipation of having him bare and having him release white hot cum inside my cunt so that it drops out and stains my inner thighs but then his words resound on my head and I pull back.

“Are you-” On a sane moment, I stop the question before I ask.

Of course he’s having sex with other people.

“I always wear a condom.” He cups my face and presses a sweet kiss against my lips. “But I can make you cum with my fingers and have you afterwards.”

I nod my head and with that he takes me back to the place where I’m nothing but what he touches.

I still have trouble breathing when we come out of the shower. He doesn’t stop amazing me, the way he treats me and touches me as if I was made out of glass. I wonder if he touches every woman like that and I ignore the feeling on my throat. He’s staring at me. Please, don’t, don’t look at me like that. I feel very exposed, standing completely naked in his shower as his eyes investigate every part of my body.

He grabs a fresh towel from the cupboard underneath the sink and my lips part when instead of giving it to me or using it to dry himself, he hides his two hands underneath the towel and presses them against my skin in a calming, almost hypnotic ritual. He’s quiet and his expression is serious but calm. I think the troubled Harry is gone. I indulge in the way he softly presses the towel instead of rubbing it as if he was going to hurt my skin if he didn’t act so delicately. He’s kneeling in front of me as he dries my thighs and my belly and watching him I forget my exposure to him. He presses a kiss on my hipbone and then stands up and kisses my lips and being fully dried, I’ve never felt wetter.

I grab the towel from his hands and do the exact same thing he did to me but to his body and I feel lucky he lets me. My hair is wet against my back contrasting my dry mouth and I moisten my lips with every inch of his skin I carefully dry. His skin is tight and soft but thick and firm as it covers his lean muscles. Sometimes I let my fingers rest against his warm skin. I guess it’s my own timid version of the kisses he pressed against mine. When I look up at him, his green eyes look at me, seemingly confused.

I hate that he does that. He allows himself to do all these things with me, like staring at me as if he’s never seen a woman before or kiss me as if he meant it but he never lets me reciprocates. He takes his hand away when I hold it and now looks at me like that. I stand tall and leave the towel next to my clothes on the sink and when I’m about to walk away his long fingers wrap around my wrist and turn me around.

I watch him intertwined our fingers with the hand he has taken away before on his sudden mutism and he just stares at our intertwined hands as his thumb caresses my skin before he brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. I don’t know why, but I take it as a silent apology and taking his hand to my lips, I kiss it on silent forgiveness. He's still rock hard and I don’t know how he can stand there so seemingly impassive when all his blood is on that one precious part of his body. In one of his mood changes, he shifts from calm, soft Harry to the passionate, wild one and he pins me against the wall before his mouth devours mine. His teeth nibble on my bottom lip and make me moan. I’m so ready for him I’m scared of it.

Suddenly he removes his body from mine and I feel the cold his void left as he kneels in front of the sink and opens the cupboard. His absence lets me see my reflection on the mirror. I almost don’t recognize myself. My hair is humid and disheveled. Some strands frame my rosy cheeks and my chest is flushed as it moves up and down on a laborious breathing. As if I wanted to make sure that woman is me, I bring my mouth to my lips and watch her do the same. They feel warm against my mouth and they’re red blood.

When Harry stands tall, he turns his neck and looks at the mirror too and his eyes darken when he realizes I was watching myself.

“You look ravishing.”

“Then ravish me.”

I hear myself whisper and wait for him against the wall. I’ve never seen anyone putting on a condom faster and then I am levitating, mentally and physically, for Harry holds my waist and lifts me up so my feet aren’t touching the ground. As if I have done this before, my legs wrap around his waist as if my body knows what to do even when my head doesn’t. Just like last night and like I did in the shower, I let myself go and I feel that invisible deadweight I always carry on my chest lift and leave me. I feel light as a feather during those seconds before he plunges into my depths breaching every barrier of my intimacy but I welcome his intrusion as we both sigh at the feeling.

I feel like I’m dancing upon that fine line between pain and pleasure for I feel so full and the pressure takes every thought I’ve ever had away and his hips are unforgiving as he pushes in and out of me. I try to sustain my body weight, hands pushing off his shoulders and I want to ask him if I’m too heavy or if he’s okay but a whisper of his name is all I can muster among whimpers and soft pants.

We’re not even five feet away from his bed, a big, soft, comfortable bed where we could have a banquet of one another like we had the night before but it’s precisely the urgency, the animalistic, desperate need that’s sending me to the edge faster than it ever has. His ruthless hips lift my body against the tile every time he thrusts and my bare back slides down the wall every time he removes my hold rolling out of me but when my nails cling onto his shoulders and I’m afraid I’m gonna fall, he pushes in again and the whole ritual begins. The adrenaline runs through my veins at the feeling of free falling but his hands and thighs sooth me with the security of his hold. He’s taking me high but he won’t let me fall.

His grunts and groans hunt me like a heavenly song and I try to keep my ears opened so I can record his sounds and replay them when I’m not with him but it’s hard to pay attention to anything different from that desirable spot only he’s reached as he hits it again and again and again and again. I miss him every time he pulls out but it’s only for a second before he’s pushing in again.

His hands move from my hips to the back of my thighs and in an instant of panic, thinking he’s about to put me down, I clench my thighs around him tighter and he curses under his breath. I watch him as his thrusts become faster and he can’t barely get his length out but his vulnerable grunts and the way he looks, flushed and out of his mind, are enough for me. His forehead falls on mine and his hot breath hits my cheeks while he grins.

“Sorry.” He pecks my cheek. “I would have lasted longer if you hadn’t done that.” He’s smiling.

“I thought you were going to put me down.” I pout.

My hands snake from his shoulders to his hair and he chuckles before he kisses my neck.

“I was going to. I was going to take you to bed and give myself a second so I could make you cum first but when you tightened your thighs around me…” He tilts his head. “Fuck.”

“Sorry.” I smirk naughtily and he chuckles.

“You should be.” He kisses me as he rolls out and finally puts me down leaving a sad feeling of emptiness between my legs. “You should be illegal.” He spanks my ass playfully and walks out of the bathroom.

I grin like a fool and take this minute of solitude to take in the way I feel and relish on it. I bring my hand to my lower lips and blush when I notice how wet I am. I close the door of the bathroom to pee and clean myself. When I open the door, I don’t find Harry on his bed but I see a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt and even a pair of boxers folded on the mattress. His voice calls my name from outside his room.

“Are you hungry?” He must be in the kitchen.

I’m not really hungry but if he has something to eat, I might nibble on it. I doubt but when I’m about to expose myself to a new possible embarrassment he saves me. He’s leaning against the doorframe of his room in a pair of olive-green sweatpants. How can someone look so good in sweatpants?

“Those are for you.” He smiles. “But you can grab anything else from my wardrobe too.”

“No, these are fine. Thank you.”

Seeing him half dressed suddenly makes me uncomfortably aware of my own nudity so I put on his t-shirt without even looking at it.

“I was going to say you could also walk around naked” he grins smugly as I walk towards him “but that was before I knew you looked so sexy on my clothes.”

I rest the low of my back on his kitchen island and let my eyes wander across the white cupboards. The counter is white marble too and so is the island where my hips rest. The distribution seems weird to me, the sink is on the counter in front of me and behind that it’s his room and on the kitchen island he’s got the stove and under it the oven and some more cupboards. I guess it’s not so much of a kitchen island as it is an open kitchen.

I tilt my neck and see the living room and the views outside the glass windows. I imagine him cooking and looking through the window. He’s got a nice view of the city from there. He’s been watching me the entire time with a smile on his face.

“What’s on your mind?”

“You want the explicit version?”

He washes his hands on the sink but tils his neck so he can see me.

“Please.”

“I was thinking about sitting you up on that counter and making you cum on my mouth.”

My eyes widen and my face and neck heats up. This man is going to be the death of me. He’s insatiable.

“So what do you feel like having? I have fruit and bread and-” he opens the cabinets and makes a list of the food he has as if he had not just said that and for a second I think I have imagined it.

“So you’re not going to?”

I think I did say that out loud because he turns his head and looks at me with raised eyebrows.

“You want me to?”

“No,” Yes “it’s just that you said you were thinking about it and then offer me fruit?”

I must be hilarious to him because he throws his head back and laughs out loud.

“If I fucked you every time I think about it, you couldn’t walk.”

I lick my lips. He makes my mouth dry all the time. What is he doing to me? I’m gonna end up like a sex addict like him. I enter his game. If he can say these things and then act as if nothing happened so can I.

“Can I have a glass of milk?”

“You want milk?”

I roll my eyes when I see the way he’s grinning and I swat his chest playfully. He laughs and apologizes before he pours a glass of milk and hands it to me and then he grabs a clementine and peels it as his eyes fix on me.

“When you asked me why I didn’t drink” He says “what did you originally want to ask me?”

I frown. Seriously how does he know what I think all the time? How can he know I wanted to ask him something else? Am I that obvious?

“I already got my answer.” I shrug. “I wanted to ask you why you had chosen to supervise my essay.”

He nods. I drink my milk. That makes me think about what Marie said. I’m afraid of what he’ll answer if I ask him with how many students he’s been. I don’t want him to ruin what just happened by telling me this is something he’s done before and making me feel like just another one of his conquests even though that’s what I am.

“Why do you think I chose you?” His green eyes are narrowed as he studies my expression.

I don’t know how to answer that without degrading myself to the floor. Why did he even ask me? Why would he want to humiliate me like that? I think he can sense my discomfort.

“Indie?” He presses.

“Well it’s clear, isn’t it?”

“I chose you because you’re intelligent and you pay attention and you always ask interesting questions. It’s clear that you like what you do and I thought your essay would be interesting to read.”

My lips seal. I wasn’t expecting that. I feel stupid for thinking otherwise and I feel bad and sexist for having thought that way about myself. Sometimes we don’t need anyone to put ourselves down.

“You thought I had chosen you for your pretty face?”

“I didn’t think you had chosen me for my pretty face.”

I know there are lots of girls prettier than me in my class alone. I thought he had chosen me because he had this smug obsession of wanting the only thing he couldn’t have or something like that but I don’t think I’m pretty enough for him out of all people to choose me for my pretty face.

I yawn. I must look terrible because I’m not wearing any make up since our shower. Dear Lord I’m not wearing any make up since our shower! I must have looked like a panda bear under the water. That ruins the whole imagine. He wasn’t standing there with a beautiful girl under the shower but with a moaning wet panda.

“Well good” peacemaker Harry walks towards me with a beautiful smile and takes the now empty glass from my hand and leaves it on the counter next to me before he pecks my lips “because, despite your pretty face, I chose you for what’s in here” his fingertip delicately knocks on my temple and I smile. “You’re pretty tired, aren’t you?”

I yawn again and he chuckles. My hands cling onto his shoulders when I feel his arm under my knees and he lifts me up and carries me bridal style towards his room. I chuckle and hold onto his chest.

“I can walk, you know?”

“I know.” He grins.

We both chuckle as he walks towards his room and then he carefully places me on his bed. My eyes set on the picture on his bedside table again as he gets in bed next to me.

“Who are they?” I ask and yawn.

“Tired but still nosy.” He jokes.

He lifts his head so he can have a look at the photo even if he doesn’t need to because it’s his picture. He should know what he has next to his bed.

“They’re my mum and my sister.”

I hum. My eyes are already closed when I feel his kiss on my temple.

“Harry”

“Yeah?”

“Did I look like a raccoon on the shower?”

I smile with my eyes closed as he laughs out loud. I wish I could see him because I’ve never heard him laughing that hard but Morpheus is very distracting. What I hear next I don’t know if he said or I dreamt it because as he answers my question it’s like he’s speaking my own thoughts.

“It’s because you stop my mind.” He whispers.

158 notes · View notes

supergirl-writingz · 4 years ago

Text

Puppy Fever

Kara x Reader

Living with Kara has been the best experience of your life. You guys took care of each other and had so much fun together. You agreed on everything- well almost everything. You have been wanting to get a puppy forever but Kara kept shutting you down.

“A puppy is a lot of responsibility Y/n, I’m not sure you’re ready. Think about all of your goldfish that died” Kara would always say. Ugh.

One day, Kara sent you out with a list of groceries. As you were walking into the grocery store, the store next door caught your eye. You saw a sign that said “Pet Adoption Weekend!”

You couldn’t help but wander inside. A peek wouldn’t hurt, right?

As soon as you entered, a certain puppy caught your attention. She was an adorable, all black french bulldog. You went up to one of the workers and asked to hold her. The worker smiled and grabbed the puppy and handed her to you.

“Hi cutie,” you said in a baby voice, “You wanna come home with me don’t you baby?”

She looked up at you and barked, almost as if she understood what you had said. Your heart melted. Before you knew it, all the forms were filled out and your car was filled with all sorts of toys and supplies. Sitting in your car, you looked back at your new puppy. You swore she was smiling at you, like she was proud of how quick she had stolen your heart.

You drove home and noticed a text from Kara, ‘Going to Eat with Alex. Be back soon’

You sighed in relief. You had time to think of how you would break the news to her. You walked inside and let your new puppy explore.

Looking at her, you said to yourself, “Molly”. Her name was definitely Molly.

Some time went by and you heard someone at the door and realized Kara was home. You quickly picked up Molly and put her in your room so you could have time alone with Kara to prepare her.

Kara opened the door to you standing there, staring directly at her.

You smiled your biggest smile and asked, “Hi Kara, how was lunch with Alex?”

She knew something was up and replied confused, “It was good?”

You approached Kara with the plan to make her happy before you dropped the news. It almost always worked. Almost.

You started to grab her hair, “Did you do something different with your hair?”

Kara was even more confused now, “No? I wear my hair like this all the time”

You smiled at her playing with her hair, “I mean it just looks soo good! You have such nice hair Kar”

Kara swatted your hand away and gave you a look, “What did you do Y/n”

“So now I’m not allowed to compliment my friend?” you asked innocently.

“Y/n. Spill now” she said in her trying-to-be-stern tone which always fails to sound stern.

You started to answer, “I really don’t know what you-”

Suddenly you both heard a bark from your bedroom. You both spun your heads in the direction.

Kara gave you a look, “Y/n, did I just hear a bark from your room?”

Uh oh. “Uh it was my tv?” you responded hopefully.

“Y/n you don’t have a tv in your room” Kara responded walking towards your room.

She walked to your room and opened the door. Molly came running out and ran past Kara and jumped into your arms. Kara couldn’t help but smile but gave you a look that was meant to be intimidating.

“Uhh hey how did you get in here?” you asked Molly, giving it one last shot.

“Y/n” Kara said, waiting for you to explain.

“Okay okay! It’s not my fault! She chose me, we love each other” you said pouting, giving Kara the puppy dog eyes she can never resist.

Kara walked over and took Molly into her arms. Molly started licking Kara all over her face making her laugh.

“Sooo” you took this opportunity, “you’re not mad?”

Kara smiled and booped your nose, “I could never be mad at you. Especially when holding a puppy”

You got excited “So we can keep her?”

Kara laughed and rolled her eyes, “Fine”

You hugged Kara tight with Molly squished in between. That night you played games with Molly and when she was finally tired, you and Kara cuddled with her and watched a movie.

“Y/n” Kara suddenly remembered, “Did you ever end up getting groceries”

You realized you forgot, “I’ll get them tomorrow I promise”

Kara laughed sleepily and put her head on your shoulder, “Just don’t come home with any more animals”

“I’ll try my best” you responded, happily falling asleep with Kara on your shoulder and Molly on your lap.

#supergirl #supergirl reader insert #supergirl x reader #supergirl imagine #kara danvers #kara danvers x reader #supergirl fic #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl fan fic

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llendrinall · 4 years ago

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Omg if an adult Draco woke up in 5 year old Draco's body and he wanted to make his father's life a living hell. Id read that, please please tell us the stuff he'd get up to. (as well as the stuff you would get up to at school, please)

It would be a nightmare for all involved. Draco, who had fought so much, suffered so much in order to atone not only for his mistakes but those of his family… and he finds himself back! All progress lost! He had broken his back, literally (it was a really dumb idea and Harry was very angry with him) to get Granger to warm up to him. Longbottom had forgiven him! (And Draco doesn’t even know what exactly he did to merit that). Harry had…

Harry had kissed him the weekend before.

And now he is back in his five-year-old body. Not even eleven, when he could see Harry and make a difference. No, he is five, and Draco cries and rages so much that he develops a fever and is incoherent for a week.

Afterwards… Well, you know how parents pride themselves in their children’s achievements? How parents want their children to be better than them? Lucius has found there is a limit to it. Having his son be more eloquent and advanced than any other child his age is great. Having his five-year-old son tell him with impeccable grammar that he, Lucius, will bring the ruin of their house is not great at all. Draco looks at him with a cherubic face and eyes that are burning grey, accusing him of crimes that even Narcissa doesn’t know about. Crimes that Lucius had barely begun to plan.

It is terrifying.

It is well known that what muggles call “demonic possessions” are nothing more than a wizard having a little too much fun with an imperius. But when Draco grabs Lucius’ wand, goes down to their hidden vault and, and, and opens it! He- he just casts the spell! Draco is five and he is doing magic that many adults struggle with! Oh, then Lucius wants to believe there might be something else.

(Out of all the forbidden things in their vault Draco went straight to the diary the Dark Lord had entrusted Lucius. Straight to it. And he destroyed it that very same night.)

“You failed.” Draco says, hot and angry. He is so pale and soft and full of fire. “You failed at everything and I had to take your place. I was given an impossible task as punishment to you, threatened not only with my death but the whole family, because of you!”

“Tenses, darling.” Says Narcissa softly. Narcissa is blind to the monster they have in the house. She doesn’t see it. She is convinced that there is nothing wrong with Draco, that he is just a very powerful seer who is a bit confused with timelines and verb tenses.

Draco is not a seer. Lucius is sure of that because if he were, then he would know that Lucius is thinking of… cleaning up the line. Narcissa is still young and she can give him another son or Lucius can remarry.

He is not a seer, but one day over breakfast Draco looks up and says “It won’t work. Whatever you are plotting, it won’t work. I can’t recall a single plan of yours that worked longer than a month. Kicking Dumbledore from Hogwarts, bribing the Ministry, bringing back the Dark Lord. It never works.”

So Lucius packs up his things and leaves the country quietly.

Narcissa is… shocked, which means she is furious, betrayed, and briefly terrified that she might lose her income and secure position. But once she is reassured that she still holds the house and the fortune she takes a big breath, internally swears that next time she comes across Lucius she will castrate hex him, and steps up into the role of Lady of the House.

She also listens to Draco. She insists that what Draco says has happened is yet to come, but she listens.

Draco wants to get Harry at once, but it is not so easy to find a seemingly normal muggle family in the sea of actually normal muggle families living an hour away from London. In the meantime, Narcissa visits Flourish and Blotts every day for a week until she finally gets there at the same time than the Weasleys. Then it’s a question of dropping a handkerchief and waiting for the bespectacled Weasley to fetch it for her and then, well, he is so eloquent and polite that Narcissa insists on buying young, Percival, was it? She shall buy him a quill. Any quill he wants. Don’t look at the price and just pick whatever quill you like best, young man. You must have a proper quill to write your letters.

Molly Weasley would rather drag herself through shards of glass than accept a gift from a Malfoy; but one look at Percy tells her that if she takes this from him, if she takes his once chance of having something New and Fancy and Just For Him, he will hate her forever. So Molly relents (as Narcissa knew she would because mothers are predictable). Two weeks later Draco has a play date with Ronald.

“I think you should play Quidditch, Draco, dear.” She says, because horrendous as Lucius’ attitude was, she does recognize that Draco can be a bit off-putting. There isn’t that much talking with Quidditch and Draco is clever enough to let the young Weasley win two out of three times.

It takes thirteen months to find Harry and by then Narcissa has got a foot in both the Weasley’s and Longbottom’s houses. The latter was an excruciating effort and is still a very much work in progress. Narcissa had to let that bulldog of Augusta Lonbottom seer her crying and even now they are one wrong word away of losing all progress, but the children are talking and that was the goal.

She is weighting the pros of buying a house near the Dursleys and just moving there versus the advantage of frequently inviting the Weasley kids to the manor, when she sees the anxious look in her son’s face, a look of urgency and desperation and…

“Draco,” she cries, softly and sadly. Beautiful Draco, six years and two months and with a face like a silver coin. “Draco, dear, do you love this boy? I don’t mean like you love Mummy. Do you…”

“I know what you mean, Mother.” Draco says, serious, he is always so serious. She supposes he has to be to contain the fire burning inside. “I am not a child, I have told you. And I love him with all my heart.”

Oh.

“Then, you shouldn’t meet so soon.” Narcissa says firmly, although inside her heart is aching and she doesn’t know why. “Children who grow together tend to see each other as siblings. Why, your Great Aunt Marthia grew up with Gaius Mulciber, her fiancée, and their marriage was very difficult. I think he tried to poison her in order to marry his lover, or the other way around. I can’t remember. In any case, it is better to wait.”

But Draco doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to wait. He doesn’t want Harry to spend a single day more than necessary in that house where he was miserable and unloved. Whatever it takes, he says. Whatever it takes, even if the price is not loving Draco. Let’s rescue him now.

Narcissa explains that waiting would be much better. There are other things they have to keep in mind, like the return of the Dark Lord and the fact that Harry is linked to him. It can’t be that bad, the muggle house. Just bad enough that Harry will jump easily and eagerly to the wizarding world once it’s presented to him, so he will be all the more willing to sacrifice his…

“oh”, Narcissa says, very softly, not even an exclamation mark or a capital.

“oh”, she repeats.

Internally, she thinks “that bastard”. Dumbledore, of course. It is well known that Dumbledore wants Voldemort’s destruction at whatever cost.

“Draco you have to get yourself invited to the Longbottom’s house.” Narcissa says. Something in her tone finally cuts Draco’s unending cries that they have to get Harry, he will do it himself even if he is just one meter and ten centimeters tall.

Draco is a charming b-. Draco is charming, boy, child or adult trapped in a kid’s body. He gets an invitation and a layout of the Longbottom’s house. Narcissa then dons a pair of sensible country boots that she doesn’t mind getting dirty with mud and barely sleeps for the next ten days. Her skin suffers from it greatly, mind you.

By day three she has successfully stolen the rat Scabbers from the Burrow. She was going to switch it with a real pet rat, but it escapes and she can’t go chasing it. Then she begins a ten-days terror program on the Longbottoms. Footprints on the flowerbeds, upsetting the warding charms on the doors, definite signs of tampering in the chimney… Augusta Longbototm is many things, but she is certainly not a fool and by day four she is at the Ministry demanding help form the Auror office. It takes five freaking days for them to send a couple or aurors down. Narcissa is incensed on her behalf.

She waits until Dumbledore sends Moody down to the house. Moody casts extra protection charms and lays some traps and that night Narcissa pushes a stunned Pettigrew into what seems the nastiest of all of the traps. The one Dumbledore told Moody not to use but he still prepared the moment he left. In goes Pettigrew, stunned and wounded because Narcissa is under a lot of stress and she might have tortured him a bit.

Narcissa and Draco are there to greet Sirius, their BELOVED cousin (all capitals so no one dares says otherwise) when he is released from Azkaban. She has him shaved, washed and all set in a nice London house before Dumbledore can even begin to say “unfit for taking care of an underage boy”. At six years and four months Harry leaves the Dursleys and moves with his godfather.

And then it’s all nice for a while until Pettigrew escapes Azkaban, meets Lucius in the continent and together bring Voldemort back. There is a war. People grow more and more afraid of Draco and he has more attempts on his life than Harry ever had. Narcissa kills Bellatrix and doesn’t even think about it.

And, one day, a young handsome gentleman with shiny black hair arrives accompanied by a sullen lanky young man with streaks of pink in his hair. Draco labels the lanky young man as the ugliest adult he has even seen. The handsome young gentleman introduces himself as Harry Potter and asks if perhaps Draco remembers him?

The burning fire inside Draco disappears. There is only hot air and ash.

The ugly lanky young man is adult Draco, of course, governed by an eight-year-old who has completely destroyed his hair. Harry, his Harry, is just amused at Draco’s indignation that they allowed this to happen. Apparently Child Draco was a handful to deal with.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you,” handsome gentleman Harry says, and he is so warm and beautiful that Draco wants to cry. He doesn’t even care about how ugly is adult body is because once he is back in it Harry grabs his hands and doesn’t let go until they are back home.

#asks #harry potter #time travelling #Anonymous #verse: deaged #textpost

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aresaphrodites · 5 years ago

Text

until the stars burn out

where betty and jughead are seniors in quiet little riverdale, and the future is uncertain but their love for each other is set in stone.

——————————————————

The best kept secret in Riverdale is that it’s actually a very beautiful place.

Growing up, Betty had thought it was magical. She loved going to the river and having picnics with her family. She would often go for little adventure walks in the woods by herself before dinner time; trying to find interesting looking rocks or plants. When she got older, that love she’d had for the town disappeared. She began to resent the small town and how everyone knew everyone and how there was no such thing as privacy. She didn’t go to the river anymore and she stayed far away from the woods. She just didn’t think it was beautiful.

And then she met Jughead Jones.

Well, granted, she already knew Jughead. They’ve been in the same classes since they were children, and they’ve always existed in the same orbit, but she didn’t know him.

At least, not until Archie’s seventeenth birthday party last year where her and Jughead spent all night hanging out in Archie’s garage and talking, away from all the alcohol and their wild friends.

And now, they’re driving through the backroads of Riverdale in Jughead’s old truck. The windows are rolled down as they let the sun shine down on them. Jughead has one arm out of the truck and the other steering the wheel. Betty’s dancing and singing dramatically in the passenger’s seat, causing Jughead to laugh every now and then as he sings along with her.

“If I can’t have you,” they belt out loudly together, somehow off key and yet completely in tune with each other, “I don’t want nobody, baby! If I can’t have you, ah-ah-ah!” Jughead sings it loudly, dragging the ‘ah’s out, causing Betty to clap gleefully.

He takes his eyes off of the road only for a moment so that they can look at each other as they belt out the chorus together.

It’s 4:30pm on a Friday and it’s Riverdale’s Homecoming, as well as the last football game of the season.

Jughead’s dressed in his football jersey and Betty’s all dolled up in her River Vixen uniform. They should be getting back to the school to get ready for the game, but a small detour won’t hurt anyone. It’s not like the Bulldogs can start the game without their captain anyway.

After ten minutes and two more songs, Jughead pulls the truck over on the side of the road.

He turns off the truck, gets out, and walks over to Betty’s side so that he can open the door for her.

“Thank you,” she says as she grabs ahold of his hand and hops onto the grass.

“Have I ever told you how much I love when you wear this?” Jughead asks as he pulls on the hem of her cheer top. Betty smirks.

“You usually tell me that when you’re trying to get me out of it and we do not have time for that.”

He laughs. “You’re right, you’re right. That’s not why I brought you here.”

Right. Jughead’s been telling her all week that he has a surprise for her and Betty’s been practically bursting at the seams trying to figure out what it could possibly be.

He leads her into the clearing of the woods, to their own secret place that no one else knows about. It’s a beautiful garden of flowers and plants that always stay blooming and green, although she has no clue how. She figures someone has to take care of this, but they’ve never seen anyone else here. Nature is mysterious and beautiful like that though.

“Are you nervous for tonight?” Betty asks him as she leans down to pick a daisy.

He shakes his head. “Why? Because the recruiters from both Notre Dame and Yale will be there?”

She gives him a pointed look. “It’s okay to be nervous, Juggie.”

“I just want this so badly,” he admits and Betty nods in understanding. It’s his dream to play college football and then professional, but he’s always wanted to get into an Ivy League as well. It’s one of the things that made her so attracted to him; he took his classes seriously. A lot of people like to think that just because he’s a football player, that he isn’t smart or that he doesn’t do the work on his own, but they couldn’t be more wrong. He’s worked his ass off to be in the top five percent of their class and she’s proud of him.

“They’ll love you,” she tells him. “If I know anything in this world, it’s that you’re going to get everything you want, Jug.” She takes a step towards him and reaches up to put the daisy behind his ear. He smiles gently at her before hugging her close to him.

“I already have everything I want.” He kisses the top of her head and Betty blushes. “You’re everything I want, Betty. It doesn’t really matter what happens tonight as long as I have you.”

“Well, it would be nice if you did get into Yale,” she teases. “I could go to all your football games considering I’d be there too.”

It’s the dream— both of them getting into Yale together. Realistically, she knows that the chances of that happening are pretty low, but it doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t matter where they go, or how far away from each other they are, she knows that they’ll make it work.

“My biggest cheerleader,” he says into her hair, “what would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn, baby. Crash and burn.”

Jughead laughs and she pulls away from him with a smile.

“But really, Jug. No matter what happens with this game or college, promise me that we’ll figure it out together.” The inevitable ending of high school is just around the corner. In just a little over five months, they’ll be kissing Riverdale High goodbye and moving onto their futures. It’s scary and exciting and Betty’s ready and yet not ready at all.

The smile falls from his face and he takes a step back from her, putting his hands inside of his varsity letterman. Betty looks at him in confusion.

“I love you,” Jughead says suddenly, as if he’s barely realizing it for the first time, despite the fact that they said it to each other long ago.

“I love you too,” she replies, confused.

“I mean, I love you, Betty. I’ve loved you from the moment you told me I looked like a creep hanging out in a garage by myself during a party.”

Betty laughs at the reminder of their first real interaction.

“And I’ve loved you everyday since. You’re my best friend and you’re the only person in this world who knows me, all of me. I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight. I don’t know where I’ll be this time next year. I don’t know if I’ll make it to the pros or if I’ll be working for my dad for the rest of my life.” He smiles now, almost like he’s laughing at that idea. Betty’s smiling too but her confusion is starting to grow.

“I’m not sure about a lot of things, but there’s one thing I’m sure of and that’s you.” He pauses. “Always and forever. Until the stars burn out, right?”

“And a million years after that,” she responds, voice shaky. It’s their special way of saying ‘I love you’.

Jughead pulls his hand out of his pocket and Betty gasps as she sees what he’s holding.

He kneels down and she covers her mouth as tears well up in her eyes.

“I promise you that no matter what happens, you and I will figure it out together. Whether we’re both at Yale or I’m at Notre Dame, we’ll be okay, because we’re Betty and Jughead. We’re meant to be together.”

He’s looking at her with so much love in his eyes and Betty feels like her smile is bordering on being manic, but she doesn’t care.

“Marry me,” he says softly as he opens up the tiny black box.

It’s a simple platinum band. There’s no diamond. It’s not fancy. It’s not expensive or expressive. It’s plain, simple, and it’s the most beautiful thing that Betty has ever seen.

The sun shines down on it, making it gleam brightly and look like it could be worth all the money in the world. She tears her eyes away from it to look at Jughead and she doesn’t even try to hide the tears that are falling onto her cheeks now.

The sun is shining on him, too. His hair looks lighter underneath the harsh rays and he’s a little more tan from the many afternoon football practices. His eyes are shining up at her and she loves him. She loves him more than she has ever loved anyone or anything.

“Not today,” he says quickly, “or anytime soon. Hell, we can get married in ten years if you want, or we can just be engaged forever and never actually tie the knot. Just…” he trails off and then smiles softly at her, “marry me, Betty Cooper. I want to figure life out with you. I want it all with you. I want a mansion paid for with my NFL salary and a huge indoor pool that we only use once every two years with you. I want a tiny one bedroom apartment in Riverdale with you. I want a cottage in the middle of nowhere with you. I don’t care where we end up, as long as I’m with you.”

“Yes,” she whispers so quietly that she can barely hear herself. She laughs, tears in her eyes and her heart feeling happier than it ever has. “Yes! Jughead, yes!”

“Yeah?” He asks like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Yes!” She laughs, louder this time.

“You’ll marry me?”

“I’ll marry you.”

He grins so wide that it takes up his whole face. He rarely smiles like that and Betty knows that he’s as happy as she is right now.

Jughead laughs once, like he’s still unsure that he isn’t dreaming, and then he jumps up to his feet. He takes the ring out of the box and holds it out to her.

“It’s not much,” he tells her, “but I wanted it to be purely yours.” He angles it so that she can see the inside of the band, where words are inscribed in cursive.

She looks closer and gasps as she sees the engraving.

Until the stars burn out

“It’s beautiful,” she says and she means it. “It’s perfect.”

He shakily puts it onto Betty’s finger, and she looks at it in admiration before she throws her arms around Jughead’s shoulders.

He picks her up off of the ground and twirls her around, the sound of their undeniably happy laughter mixing together with the song the birds are singing to create a beautiful melody.

For the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t feel like some kind of impending doom; it feels like the beginning of forever, like the beginning of happiness.

And as Jughead stops twirling her to kiss her deeply, her feet still dangling off the ground as he holds her in his arms, she knows that she’d been right before.

Riverdale is beautiful, because what they have here is beautiful. They’ve made something beautiful out of dust and they made it together.

And they’ll have it always and forever; until the stars burn out and then a million years after that.

(( send me a prompt or something, because i’m bored and feel like writing short little things. ))

#sorry this isnt under a ‘read more’#im on mobile and idk how to do that here lol #bughead #bughead fic #bughead fanfiction

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just-another-ficwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Forbidden

Pairing: Angel!Reader x Demon!Sweet Pea

Words: 300ish

Warnings: Implied smut, mentions of alcohol

Summary: Everything in Y/N’s life tells her she shouldn’t be drawn to Sweet Pea. All her beliefs, all the stories she’s heard tell her he should be the bad guy. So why does her heart break when she hears he’s finally been captured?

Notes: Filling the Demon/Angel AU square on my @riverdalebingo card

Y/N can feel the adrenaline flowing through her veins. Maybe it’s the fear of getting caught, maybe it’s the thrill of doing something she shouldn’t. All she knows is her heart is beating faster than it ever has before.

When this all started it was simple. A rogue demon causing havoc in a small town, that she was tasked with capturing.

She’d hadn’t realised that someone she’d always been taught was everything wrong with the world could be so attractive.

He’d worked her out instantly, got her alone in the corner of a bar, bought her a damn drink.

She’d doesn’t know how he’d managed to talk his way out of it, the nights still a little hazy. Maybe she’d been stupid, maybe he had some kind of persuasion powers she wasn’t aware of, but she let him go without a fight.

They met up regularly after that, late nights in random rundown bars, secret fumbles in seedy motel rooms, neither of them knows why.

“Sweet Pea?” She whispers, eyes straining in the dark. When she’d learnt another Angel had caught him off guard and thrown him down here, all breath had been stolen from her lungs and she had to see him for herself.

“What are you doing here?” She can’t help but whimper when she sees his bloody face, body curled up on the floor of a damp cell.

She doesn’t care where they’re from, who they’re meant to be. Neither of them had chosen their lives, he wasn’t a bad person; she’d bet her wings on it. “I’m getting you out.”

Riverdale Winter Bingo Masterlist

Forever Taglist: @finn-shelbys-bulldog

Sweet Pea Taglist: @80sand90simagine @wildberryyyy @hopelesslylosttheway

#riverdale #riverdale bingo #riverdale winter bingo #riverdale au #riverdale drabble #riverdale fanficton #riverdale imagine #riverdale sweet pea #sweet pea #sweet pea drabble #sweet pea au #sweet pea fanfiction #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea riverdale #sweet pea x reader

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 5 years ago

Text

I Hope That It Was Worth It | Sweet Pea

A/N: gonna try and dive back into writing on tumblr since I get these ideas for aus and fics and stuff that won’t fit into the big thirty-chapter fic I’m writing (if anyone is interested in that, please, let me know!) So, starting off with a song based au. :)

Summary: you and Sweet Pea have a complicated relationship. You started out as friends, best friends. But by High School, you made a friends-with-benefits-deal until one time, you leave town for a couple of days during summer and Sweet Pea decides to fuck someone else.

Warnings: cursing, angst, mention of sex

Words: 1545

Song: Josslyn by Olivia O’brien

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

You and Sweet Pea have been friends since forever. Both of you grew up on the Southside and met at Kindergarten. You were being picked on by some other Serpent kids and he saved you from them. Ever since, the two of you were inseparable. You stuck by each other’s side through elementary school, middle school and now high school. Especially through the transfer to Riverdale High. That’s when it all started too. It was the first day at Riverdale High and you were frustrated beyond repair. All because that stupid Bulldog had to draw a deformed snake on the school’s emblem on the floor, blaming the Serpents for it of course, and thus the Principal banning all gang paraphernalia. You knew they hated you, but this was just idiotic. “I can’t believe once again, we’re being cast out,” you said when pacing Sweet Pea’s trailer after school that day. “Can’t they see they’re the culprits in this? We’re doing nothing. The biggest mistake we made was being born.” “I get that you’re frustrated, Y/N. But look at it like this; Riverdale High has flushing toilets, computer labs, textbooks. Everything we didn’t have back at Southside High. If that means leaving the jacket at home and covering my tattoo from 9 to 4, I’m okay with that,” Sweet Pea told you. But it didn’t help to calm you down. “I know what you need.” He then stood up and walked towards the kitchen to get some food, making you stop in your tracks right in front of him. “Fuck me,” you blatantly said. Sweet Pea’s eyes widened. He couldn’t deny the fact that he’s thought of that multiple times. But they’re best friends, they can’t do that, can they? “Y/N,” he said in a scoff. “We’re best friends.” “I know,” you sighed, “But I’m incredibly frustrated and I really need to work it out on something or someone. We could look at it as just a casual thing. You know? No strings attached.” Sweet Pea mulled over the thought for a second. But only a second. He then nodded defiantly and grabbed your hand to lead you to his bedroom. And exactly then and there, all of it started. It began as once, that one day. And then a couple days later, you found yourself knocking at his door again. It became more regularly. Every time either one of you got frustrated about something, you called or knocked on each other’s door for the exact same reason. It even got so far that you had started to develop feelings for him. But you wouldn’t tell him that.

For months you two kept on going, upholding your friendship while having sex pretty much every day. You even kept it a secret for a while until the one faithful day when Fangs accidentally walked in on the two of you. “Hey, bro, FP needs us --” he stopped in his tracks when he found Sweet Pea on top of you on the sofa, both of you buck naked. He screamed and brought his hands to his eyes while the two of you screamed out his name in terror. “Sorry, sorry!” Fangs ran out of the trailer to go and tell Toni about his trauma. The two of you then decided to call it quits for the night since the mood was gone anyway. After getting dressed, the two of you went to the Wyrm where you found a shocked Fangs and Toni trying to calm him down. “So, you two are boning now?” Toni asked when you approached their table. Fangs whimpers as if seeing either one of you naked was such a big traumatic experience. “I will never unsee it,” he whispered dramatically. “Oh, come on, dude,” you began, shaking your head, “You just saw us naked, it’s not like we were already doing it.” Fangs just whimpers again. “What is this? You guys dating or just fucking?” Toni asked. “Just fucking,” the two of you respond, earning another whimper from the smaller Serpent.

Even after that faithful day, you kept doing the ritual daily. Come back from school, do homework, go to bed, then one would call the other to come over, wake up in the same bed, repeat. Your feelings for Sweet Pea have just increased every damn day. And he couldn’t deny he was feeling the same thing, but neither of you wanted to ruin anything between the two of you. It worked the way it was. Until you left town during summer for a couple of days. You never told Sweet Pea about your feelings or if he could see other girls while you were away. And when you came back to Riverdale, you find out Sweet Pea and Josie have been fucking around the entire summer. “He’s at the pool with her right now,” Cheryl told you cautiously as the fire in your eyes nourished. You walk away from Cheryl and Toni, and up to the pool where you, indeed find Sweet Pea and Josie making out at the edge of the pool. “So, that’s why you could never call me while I was away,” you said when you reached them. Your arms were crossed, and a scowl was plastered on your face. “Y/N, welcome home,” he said, sounding insecure about what you’d expect to tell him. “Welcome home? Seriously, Sweet Pea? You spent your summer fucking her, telling me you couldn’t even call me while I was up in Greendale visiting my family, and now I get a ‘welcome home’?” The volume of your voice raised with every word that rolls off your lips. “I’m leaving,” Josie said and wanted to get up, but you stopped her. “Don’t bother, Josie. I’m leaving. I don’t want to fight; I just don’t ever want to talk again.” The words were addressed to Sweet Pea while you answered Josie. “Y/N, please, let us talk,” Sweet Pea said whilst running after you as you had already turned on your heel to stalk off. “No, Sweet Pea, I don’t ever want to talk to you again.” “I don’t get you. We were never together, why are you suddenly so mad at me for going with other girls while you’re gone.” His voice now raises too, matching yours perfectly. “But we were more than friends, Pea! I just thought you might feel the same about me since we spent every night together. But I guess I read the signs wrong. There’s nothing left, Pea because you did nothing right,” you started to walk off again, and this time, he didn’t stop you.

A few hours passed since you left Cheryl Blossom’s party and went to the Wyrm to drink away your sorrows. Sure, alcohol wasn’t the answer, but it sure did make you forget the question in the first place. “Thought I’d find you here,” Sweet Pea’s sudden voice buzzed through your ears. Just hearing his voice broke your heart. Oh, how you wished things were different. “You really had to go and ruin it, just to get a quick fuck,” you mumbled while twirling the cheap vodka in your glass. “I mean, I’m sure you had fun doing it, so I won’t make a big fuss about it. I just want to know why? Why her? Why a Northsider of all people? What happened to ‘I don’t date Northsiders’?” Sweet Pea sighed deeply and took a seat on the stool beside you. “Josie isn’t half as bad. Besides, since Cheryl joined the Serpents and Betty’s kind of the Serpent Queen, we sort of merge with the Northsiders over the summer. It’s not that big a deal anymore.” “Were we a big deal to you?” You tried your hardest to keep your voice from cracking as the tears stung at the back of your eyes. “Yes, of course we were. You’re my best friend, Y/N.” You finally looked him in the eyes, just so he could see how much he’d hurt you. Even those words that had just rolled off his lips broke you. “Was that all I was to you? A best friend you fucked almost every single night?” A tear rolled off your cheek. Sweet Pea’s mouth opened and closed, making him look like a fish, before he sighed deeply. “No, you were always more than a best friend to me, Y/N.” “Then why’d you do it?” Your voice grew louder as it saddened you less and angered you more. “Why’d you go and fuck Josie?” The sharpness of your tone makes Sweet Pea flinch a little. “I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t know why I did it. She was just there when you weren’t.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “So, you’re blaming me for having left the town,” Sweet Pea wanted to protest, but you cut him off by continuing, “Please, don’t ever call again. I hope that it was worth it, fucking Josie.” You chugged the rest of your vodka before gathering your stuff and leaving the bar to head home. Angry and sad tears mixed on your cheeks as you walked all the way to your own trailer. And there, everything suddenly came to you. You’d just lost your best friend, the one you’d fallen in love with. Your everything.

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meta-squash · 4 years ago

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I wrote a (non-fanfiction) short story tonight for the first time in a very long time, maybe years? I don’t know. But I’m rusty on original stories so uhhh don’t judge too harshly, I guess?

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It came to him in the night, this impossible heir to a fortune he could never understand or afford. Seventeen years old and father downstairs smoking cigars with his buddies asking loud enough to be heard over the radiator rattle, “What is that boy doing with his life and when is he going to get some sense, some street smarts, that sharpknife spark in his eye like his older brothers?”

It came to him in the dark, lying on his back in bed, staring out at the grease-yellow streetlamp slowly dimming in the sweaty haze. No sharpknife spark had ever pierced through into his gaze; it remained soft smouldering coals and he felt the hotiron glare of his father when he spoke so gentle --but-- he had felt that spark last Saturday night hopping getaway fences with brothers and their friends. Leapt a wooden wall and found himself short-breathed and staring at a dew-glittered rose garden. The shouts of men being boys rose around him but for the first time in his life he understood what the word beauty meant, felt its thorns pierce his eyes and his eyes pierce right back. If he couldn’t be sharp like his brothers, too young to be heir to his father’s crooked fortune, he’d go his own way. Steal riches in beauty instead of violence never raw enough to satisfy.

Smog-thawed lights barely noticed him in the alley as he walked a four AM wander towards that square of soft dewy beauty. Barely noticed had his life always been, curtained behind older, louder boys-growing-into-men and brushed aside by flying fists or the cold, heavy, silent gavel of his father’s gaze. The wooden wall barely felt his hands as he vaulted over and found himself again panting to touch the velveteen petals, the sandpaper-splintered leaves, the solidly mobile stem, the gently smiling threat of the thorns.

He felt every anatomical part in his fingers like a child exploring the world for the first time, eyes wide in the darkness and heart so loud in his ears he almost didn’t hear the wind rustle the laden stems or the cherry tree only a few paces away. Only something in the breeze whispered and he looked around himself, spark-eyes wild and frantic thinking somebody’s here! only it was just the wind and the devil in a single tree.

No scissors, not even a knife--god his father would be ashamed--he twisted and ripped at the supple-strong stems, hemorrhaging petals on the dirt below, sprinkling drops of blood and clots of sweet green sap across the mangled stalks. Then up and over the wall again, holding in some wild joyous laughter, stumbling home to hide the shambolic bouquet under his bed. His room smelled like roses and blood and the sickly green scent of dying flowers.

Every night for weeks, even after jobs well done, his father’s voice lamenting the warm amber state of his youngest son. Every night the slowly drooping petals under his bed saying, “Jesse boy, you’ve got a spark, he just can’t see it.”

Three times now he’d gone back to that garden, three times now in the thick darkness, eyes only for the soft petals on their impossibly thin, impossibly strong stems. Never noticing the windows of the dark house. Never noticing the slowly lightening sky.

Now there were scissors, rusted and dull from the garage and he didn’t want to think about whatever else might be dulling the once gleaming metal. Quiet, barely noticed, he leapt into the garden and into the warm accusing arms of light spilling from the open back door.

“I’ve seen you,” said the girl with the brazen hip leaning in the doorway. “Wait, don’t go. My mom’s mad. I didn’t think I’d see a boy like you stealing roses.”

“I like them,” he snapped. Sounded like his brothers before a punch-up.

“Your girlfriend might appreciate something from the store a little more, y’know.”

“They’re not for my girlfriend. I just like them.”

“Alright, don’t get worked up. C’mere, I clipped some for you.” She grinned, and it had the teeth of an animal that had only barely been tamed.

“How did you--”

“You come every week and a half. I was ready. Don’t bring those nasty things inside.”

Jesse put the rusted scissors down on the top step. Half a dozen flowers in a jar sat under the stained glass kitchen lamp. He ran a thumb across a cluster of petals.

“A boy who steals flowers,” she startled him out of the quiet, “in this neighborhood?”

“I like them.” He’s a broken record. He’s a thorn-spark sharpness thrown bare and strange in the soft peach-yellow kitchen light.

“I collected butterflies for a while. I’d unfold them and pin them to a board. Grandma said they were like living roses.” She looked up at him with a gaze half-feral, half-sweet. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Seventeen. My name’s Jesse. I’ll stop if you want.”

“No, don’t. I think it’s fun. I’m Vic. I’ll just clip them for you from now on. Less blood. More petals.”

She let him out through the front door, tiptoe whispering about the sadistic joy of her mother’s fury. Jesse felt like he’d found a bulldog with a lipstick print on her forehead, frightening and tough and lovable at once. He forgot the old scissors on the back stairs. Already a middling spectre of doom. But things get forgotten in romance, in haste.

And roses don’t last forever. Six weeks she met him at his leap over the wall. This week there are no roses left to give.

“You can kiss me instead,” she says, knowing he has wanted to, seeing every night that under his eyes are red hearts of love.

Six more weeks he plucks roses from her lips instead of her fingers. Sometimes the kitchen light rings her holy and haloed in the yard. Sometimes the moon glints wild and doglike in her eyes and off her wide white smile. A bulldog with his heart in her mouth.

He wishes he could be something more solid, like those impossibly-small, impossibly-strong stems that hold the most beautiful parts of the rose aloft.

And downstairs he can hear his father planning something, some damnation for a lost trust.

And in the night she holds up something silhouetted in black. “These are yours. Dad put them in the shed and I found them. You left them here that first night, remember?”

And downstairs they’ve got a proper skeleton of a crew. Just Jesse and his brothers. “If you can’t trust anybody else to do the job right,” Dad says, “At least you can trust family. Right?”

Saturday night, he’s short-breathed in the gloom in the back of a car driving circles through half-familiar streets. Never been on a serious job before, not like this, not with corner-blind fury like this.

“Time to scrape the velvet off ya,” Dad had said, “Start butting heads with the rest.”

He puts a hand in his pocket. Gun. Scissors. Cash. A butterfly Vic had unfolded and given to him, its wings stiff and fragile and nearly as soft as the roses. He puts a hand to his forehead and feels the gleaming sweat that darkens his hairline and shines the hearts under his eyes. He looks forward into the night but all he can see are smears on the glass. Someone switches on the radio. Someone else switches it off.

They park and get out. Main road, long row of houses lit by punctuations of streetlights in the soggy dark. The boulevard at night has the look of murder.

That’s because it knows, Jesse things, absently, dreamily, a little wild.

Someone’s pounding on the door. “Open up!” Jesse joins his brothers on the step. “We know you’re in there, open up!”

Door swings open ghostly silent on old greasy hinges. “Oh, hello sweetheart, we just need to pay your father a little visit. Mind letting us inside?”

Clocked eyes locked over silhouetted heads and shoulders, wide-eyed shock bewilderment fear, and that feral grin turned more than saccharine sweet. “Come on in.” There’s a jar of roses on the coffee table. Passing by, he can’t help but reach out and stroke the soft pink petals. Only they’re strange, flat where they should be velvety, too smooth where they should be rough. Fake.

“Sweetheart, where’s your father? We need to speak with him.”

A glance, knowing, feral, accusing, sweet. “He’s upstairs. Don’t call me sweetheart.”

Fingers grip her face but the bulldog doesn’t back down. Holds the gaze. “I call you what I like.”

Is that lipstick on her teeth, or blood?

Jesse caught in the sweep of an up-the-stairs wave, trapped between brothers each step feels like a gauntlet, a guilt trip, thorns in his palms and round his head. Something crushing into the temples of his skull. In the crowded hallway he reaches into his pocket--whatever his fingers land on first, that’ll be what he wants. At the bottom is some sort of powdery, papery fragments, sticking to the sweat of his grip. The butterfly, crumbled in the crush of bodies on the doorstep. He blinks and pulls his hand away.

“Two each to a door.” In the dark, bodies rustle shuffling shifting movement sorting out who goes where and then silence, waiting.

Vic stands at the top of the landing. A gestured conversation, making a cruel mockery of mime. Jesse’s eyes follow the pointing brother finger to his own door. She stares. Feral, frozen, and everyone knows. Viper smile, sneer, nod, that condescending ‘go on’ gesture like she’s a schoolchild that needs prompting. Four steps forward.

Her head just under his nose she smells sweet. Vanilla and jasmine and rotting flowers and old blood. She doesn’t look at him. He wants to cover his eyes.

The latch releasing sounds like a gunshot. The door swings open. One step into the room, two, and in the dim suggestion of the sickly yellow street lamp outside, her shoulders go up, maybe about to sigh, maybe about to speak up, maybe nothing. Slender shoulders, brash and feral-sweet like her hips and her eyes and her smile and he wants to reach out and grab them, pull her back and hold her close in the dark. Hide her under the bed like he hid his old stolen roses, protecting their beauty from knifesharp eyes of everyone-- everyone else. But these scissors weigh him down in his pockets, feeling small enough to fit inside his own pockets, smaller than a clot of blood or sap, smaller than a crushed butterfly.

Her shoulders go up, and someone else steps forward, two someones, one on each distant end of the distant end of the room. Two someones swing arms up black with silhouette, black with the near-silent brush of sleeve sliding subtly back, the white hint of a wrist not the right place to look for white but it’s good enough and then the entire world is flashing, crashing, the crack-boom of half a dozen guns ringing out blinding his ears deafening his sight the grating metal harsh of half a dozen knifeblade eyes staring down the sight of each perfectly manicured steel barrel, the heavy, empty thud of two bodies making the interminable-instant journey to the floor.

Someone finds a light switch in the hallway. A car alarm is screaming down the street. Jesse has not moved, one hip still leaning in the doorway, one hand still tucked inside his pocket.

He feels his eyes go all rustybladed and sore. There’s no one there, he thinks with desperation, just the holes in the doors and wounds in the floor.

#my writing #squash rambles #short story #i had a few specific lines written and just wrote this around them #not the most amazing or original plot or anything but I had fun

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