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loostssoul · 4 years ago

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if you kissed me - Rodrick Heffley | 1.9k

Yeah yeah i know i haven't written since a million years ago. and yeah yeah i know this is my first real fanfiction i posted on tumblr. fair warning, i'm not the best writer, i honestly just do this for fun and i'm totally up to criticism because i do want to make my writing better. if this is literally inaccurate, im sorry its been like 5 years since i've read the books. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fluff-fest that I created in the span of a few hours.

paring: rodrick x reader genre: fluff. lots of fluff

Credits to the maker of the picture! 15 Days till the Contest | 9:42 PM, Saturday

Plick, plick, plick

My speakers were blasting so loud I almost didn’t hear the sound of pebbles hitting my window.

Plick, plick, plick

I rubbed my eyes and slammed my laptop shut, walking toward my bedroom window. Peering down, I saw a figure a few yards down from my second-story bedroom, looking back up at me. Dark brown, messy hair that stuck up around his face. A red and black flannel, black ripped jeans, and, (of course) a tee-shirt with “Loded Diper” clumsily written on it. A grin spread on his face as he saw my face come into his view, causing me to blush. Rodrick Heffley, Crossland High bad boy, and my boyfriend.

I unlocked the latch to my window and stuck my head out, taking in the cool air and letting the neighbors enjoy the music I was playing (they never did). I looked down.

“Y/N!” He whisper-yelled

“Evening, Heffley.”

“I need to tell you something!”

“What’s so important that you have to scratch my window instead of using the power of modern technology to call me?”

His mouth opened to give me a response, but nothing came out. I smirked, “Come on up.”

I opened the window wider as he climbed the trellis that lined the back of my house. I backed up to my door and locked it. Precautions, my parents liked Rodrick but they definitely wouldn’t approve of him in my room at night. I looked back and I saw him, every feature of him illuminated by the light of my room. His cheeky smile and chocolate brown eyes. He slowly closed the window and walked toward me, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. I still got butterflies whenever he touched me.

“Hey, Spiderman. What did ya climb in here to tell me?” I asked

“I got Loded Diper into a contest.”

My eyes widened, Loded Diper, my boyfriend’s rock band, wasn’t exactly known for being the best. It was mostly known for his mom’s insane dance moves during the Plainview Talent Show. But of course, i'll never say that in front of his face.

“You did?! That’s awesome Rodrick!”

“Yeah! It's a battle of the bands contest, we’re going against two other bands. I really think this is gonna be our big break!” His eyes sparkled in excitement.

His happiness was contagious, he was like a goddamn puppy. I pulled him into my arms. “I’m proud of you Rod.” I muttered and smiled into his collarbone. I felt him inhale the scent of my hair and twirl my locks around his fingers.

“Hey,” he said, breaking the hug. “I’m having practice tomorrow with the band, you wanna come?”

“Sure. I go to every practice anyway, why miss out on this one?” I shrugged.

He chuckled and looked at me. Really looked at me. That’s one of the reasons why I fell for him. It never seemed like it, but he paid attention. We’ve only been dating for 4 months, but he knew me like no one else did, and I knew that in the way he looked at me. I felt his hand cup my face, his thumb rubbing my cheek in small circles. I looked up at him, noticing how tall he was, how close he was. Was I the one who leaned in? Was he the one who leaned in? Did we just do it subconsciously? Did he want this? Was he ready? Was I ready?

The ringing of Rodrick’s phone filled the room. The daze we were trapped in was gone and we separated, our faces red. Rodrick picked up the phone, it was his mom.

“Yeah, mom? Mom...I’m in the middle of something. I’ll do laundry later, ok? Now? C’mon… Alright, fine. Bye.” He hung up. “Sorry, I gotta blast.”

“It’s fine, I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked him as he started toward my window.

He looked back at me and planted a kiss on my forehead, the farthest we’ve ever gone with physical touch as a couple.

“Tomorrow”

~~✰✰✰~~

14 Days till the Contest | 1:22 PM, Saturday afternoon

“Should we take it from the top?”

Practice wasn’t going so well. I could feel the nervousness, the tension. Drums were slightly off beat, the guitarist’s fingers would fly to the wrong places on the fretboard, lyrics would go all over the place. The contest was two weeks away, and Loded Diper was already feeling the anxiousness. I sat on the floor of the garage, on top of a picnic blanket I found. To Rodrick’s dismay, his mom forced him to let Greg watch band practice, as a form of “brother-to-brother bonding time.” Greg sat next to me, mockingly covering his ears.

“Oh thank god, it's done.” Greg said with an immense amount of sarcasm and uncovering his ears.

Rodrick threw a crumpled-up piece of paper at his head, “Shut up.”

“Both of you, be nice.” I laughed. “I think you guys should take a break for a while, maybe shake off the nerves.”

“Good idea Y/N, 20 minute break everyone!” The lead singer said. Everyone spread out, grabbing a piece of pizza ordered earlier and laying down. Greg ran out of the garage, yelling, “I’m free!”

Rodrick stood up and began gulping down a bottle of water. He wore a black tanktop and black ripped jeans, sweat dripping down his forehead. I ran up behind him and wrapped my arms around his torso. He turned and faced me, running his hands through my hair, lost in thought.

“You ok, Rod?” I asked him.

He sighed, “nerves”

I leaned my head on his chest, “You’re gonna do great, you’ve done so many gigs in the past. Think of this as one of those!”

He smiled at me, “You know what would make me feel a lot less nervous?”

“Oh god. What?”

A really common thing Rodrick did was try to bargain a kiss on the lips from me. It's been an ongoing joke, a meaningless bit he did all the time. I’ll do my homework if you kissed me on the lips. I’ll smile in the picture if you kissed me on the lips. It still hasn’t worked.

“I might be less nervous if you kissed me on the lips.” He whispered to me.

I rolled my eyes, “If that’s what it takes then I think you’ll lose the competition.”

He let go of me and laughed, my favorite laugh. “Worth a try.” He shrugged, going off to join his bandmates and the pizza. But as I watched him smile and laugh with his friends, I lost myself. I thought about the previous night. The way we fit into each other, the closeness, the fact that was so close that I could see my reflection in his eyes.

Maybe I should just say yes.

~~✰✰✰~~

The Day of the Contest

For the past 2 weeks, Rodrick has given me the “kiss-bargain” joke 9 times. Every time, I deflected it with sarcastic remarks, and every time I regretted not agreeing.

I sat on the front steps of my porch, waiting for Rodrick to pick me up. I regretted the jean shorts and plain black tee-shirt I had on, as a cold breeze brushed my skin. I pulled my black leather jacket on, which I painted “Loded Diper” on the back in white paint. Then, I heard it. The echo of heavy metal turned to full blast, and… the faint sound of something big getting knocked over. Oh god, they’re here. The white van with “Loded Diper” written in huge words screeched to a halt in front of my house.

The window rolled down, revealing my boyfriend and his excited grin. “Get in.”

~~✰✰✰~~

30 minutes till Loded Diper preforms

It felt surreal to be backstage, and really exciting. Energy was flowing through the room, as all the other bands talked and played. The rest of the band members seemed excited, full of adrenaline. Except for Rodrick, he’s been nervous ever since soundcheck. His leg was bouncing,he twirled his drumsticks around, drumming them on random objects, and his eyes stared into nothing.

“Rodrick, you want me to do your eyeliner?”

“Huh?” He didn’t take his eyes away from the ground, his voice seemed far away.

I lifted a liquid eyeliner pen I had in my pocket, “Eyeliner. I just did mine, we can match!”

He lifted his head and noticed me. I had my eyeliner smudged, just like he always does during a gig. He grinned, “Yeah. Yeah sure.”

I’ve done his eyeliner many times in the past, and I loved doing it because I had to be as close to him as possible. So I hopped onto his lap, pressing myself close to him, trying to comfort him with my warmth.

“Close your eyes.” I ordered.

As I applied his eyeliner, I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. It was heavy, and fast. I’m pretty sure I would still hear it if I wasn’t as close to him as I was, even though the loud music blasting through the theatre.

“Done”

He opened his eyes, and butterflies flooded my stomach. We were close. Very close. Should I do it? Should I lean in?

Rodrick probably sensed my flustered-ness. He smirked, “Cat got your tongue?”

I rolled my eyes, blushing hard. “Shut up.” I said, playfully punching him.

~~✰✰✰~~

“5 Minutes until Loded Diper performs!” A man exclaimed to us.

Rodrick was as nervous as ever. We’ve been standing on the left wing of the stage, watching the other bands play. It felt like a bunch of Loded Diper copy-pastes. A bunch of high schoolers, weird names, very aggressive playing. But they were still pretty good. Rodrick was biting the nails of one of his hands and tapping his other hand on the wall behind him. I looked up at him and held his hand, stopping it from fidgeting. He smiled nervously.

Now or never Y/N…

“Hey, you said that if I kiss you, you won’t be as nervous. Right?”

He looked at me, wide eyed. He seemed to be trying to compute what I said.

I stood on tiptoe and put his face in my hands. It was that night all over again. Every detail of his face, of him was in full view. His eyes, his eyeliner, his scent, his lips. I leaned in.

His lips were soft against mine, but they were tense, flustered. I was terrified, It was the wrong place, the wrong time. Until I felt one hand in my hair, another on my waist, pulling me closer.

How long was the kiss? A few seconds? It felt like minutes, hours. Sparked ignited. Butterflies flew in my stomach. His scent was the only thing I smelled, his warmth was the only thing I felt. The music faded away. Everything faded away. It was just him and I. Until we broke apart, taking in deep breaths of each other. We wanted more, but Loded Diper was playing in a few seconds.

“Hey, Rodrick.”

“Yeah?”

“If you win I’ll kiss you again”

We both knew I would kiss him regardless.

I didn't edit this because editing is for wimps (just kidding be responsible and edit your work)

please like and reblog because it gives me serotonin and i need that

#rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick rules #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #fanfiction #rodrick heffley x reader #doawk #devon bostick

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starsstruck · 4 years ago

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like the sun coming out

part of the cloubusting universe. a continuation of the story of painter!harry and barista!mc. icy february mornings, valentine’s dates, and soft painting sessions.

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language, sexual content words: 9.3k

series masterlist

an: hello and happy valentines day💕 im sorry to be a day late but everyday is valentines if you want it to be <3 i hope this finds you well, this is again, just more sweetness because i cant help it. hope everyone has a wonderful loved fill day, happy reading, and as always let me know what you think 💕💕

You eyed the bouquet sitting by the pastry case. The red of the roses were bright, easily contrasted with the adorning baby’s breath – a classic bouquet that was probably sold out all over town considering the date.

Holding your mug high by your mouth in both hands, warming your cold fingers as you blew lightly over the hot coffee. Standing by the space heater that kept its place under the counter, reveling in the warmth before you had to open the café.

You glanced at your phone that sat on the counter, tapping the screen to check the time. 6:27. You had three minutes. And two minutes since you had last checked, two minutes and still no new text notifications.

Sighing, you leant back over the counter and watched the few cars drive by outside, spending those three minutes you had enjoying your coffee.

Sunday’s were always unpredictable. A lot factored into how busy a shift would be, the weather being the main factor. But then there were holiday’s which for whatever reason were even busier. So working a sunny Valentine’s Day, you could more or less determine that it wouldn’t be long before a line formed out the door. All you could hope was that the line ups would form in the afternoon, when you were free from work.

You weren’t that lucky.

An expected slow start, but as soon as the sun rose higher in the sky you found yourself unable to catch a break. And when Saya came in, it seemed to get even busier. Regulars, big families, couples going for walks – it was all expected but you still felt your mood worsen while your shift went on. It was one of those days, where you’d spill milk and drop cups, a day where nothing seemed to be going right.

The only good thing about a busy day is that time flew by fast. Soon it was just past two o’clock, and you were clocking out while eyeing the newly forming lineup that was officially no longer your concern.

Pulling on your coat, grabbing your bag, and sending one more glance at your phone, before you were heading out the door. There had only been a few notifications – none of them being the one you were waiting to see. You had decided that if Harry didn’t say anything to you by five o’clock, that you would text him again. Or maybe you should call.

You had texted him late last night, unable to sleep before your early shift, and the messages were still left unanswered.

It was only silly little fight, you couldn’t even remember how it had started, just a quiet annoyance. Something about you having to work all week, and suddenly he wasn’t answering your texts. But now it was now nearly twelve hours since it happened and you were growing worried that he was more upset with you than you’d initially thought.

Your walk home was cold, and slow, as exhausted manifested in the balls of your feet. You easily gave in to the overwhelming urge to pull off your boots and slide into bed for a moment as soon as you got home. Your music was still playing in your earbuds, moving it over to your little speaker as you pulled the covers up under your chin and rested your cheek on your pillow. A little lie down was very much needed at the moment.

A faint buzzing echoed around you.

Consciousness came slowly. You groggily opened your eyes, peering out your window to see the sky still light, meaning your little nap couldn’t have been as long as it felt. You slowly realized that the faint buzzing was coming from your phone, which was likely buried somewhere deep in the duvet around you.

Searching for where the sound was coming from, you found the phone under your pillow as you flipped it up, seeing Harry’s name across the screen.

“Hello,” your voice was a bit shaky, after you had accepted the call and pressed the phone to your ear. Rolling onto your back, you stared up at the ceiling and rubbed the back of your hand over your eyes, no doubt smudging the makeup you’d completely forgotten about.

“Did I wake you?” Harry sounded like he was on speakerphone.

“It’s okay,” you cleared your throat.

“How was work?” His voice sounded clearer now.

“Busy,” you sighed. “People are stupid on holidays.”

“Too tired to keep plans for tonight?”

Your lips curved lightly, already feeling better at the lightness in his tone. “Thought you were mad at me.”

“Couldn’t be,” you could hear the smile in his own voice. “I’m sorry – for last night. I’m frustrated with my work and well, I was being petty, and selfish with your time –”

He cut himself off, as you raised yourself up over the mattress again to search for your phone charger. “Not your fault,” you hummed, after plugging the phone in. “I’m sorry too.”

“Don’t be – can’t be mad at you for doing your job. So it’s a yes for tonight?”

You bit back your smile, even though he couldn’t see you. “Suppose so. It is Valentine’s day, isn’t it?”

“It is, yeah. And I don’t want to give too much away but I have a few things planned for us.”

“Bit of a romantic, aren’t you?”

You heard him laugh through the phone. “Been told that once or twice, yeah.”

Smiling, you bit the inside of your cheek. “What time?”

“Did you still want to lie down for a bit?”

He knew you well. “I can come to yours in an hour or so,” he continued, “and then we can head to the store together to grab some groceries.”

“That sound’s good,” you said, happy to hear you had a little more time to lie in bed.

“So I’ll see you in a bit?” He confirmed, as you checked the time on your phone and thought that maybe you should set an alarm, in case you fell back asleep.

“You will.”

After saying your goodbyes, you spent a few minutes checking your notifications before sleep sneaked back up on you. Another nap that felt like it could’ve been five minutes or five minutes took over your body, but the next time you woke up, you finally felt rested. In fact, you woke up with a smiling tugging at the corner of your mouth, giddy for the night you had planned with your partner.

Rolling onto your back, the calm you felt was quickly interrupted.

“Jesus!”

Your heart leapt through your throat. Quickly lifting your top half over the mattress, you let your weight rest on your elbows as the duvet bunched around you.

Harry was sitting on the other side of your bed, opened book in hand with his legs extended out over the duvet. His eyes were wide on yours, your exclamation clearly startling him as well.

You saw his mouth part, a gleam in his eyes as he peered down at where you were watching him with wide eyes. “Not quite.”

You felt your heart beating rapidly in your chest, trying to calm yourself down from the shock of seeing Harry, or anyone else for that matter, sitting in your bed.

He offered you a small smile with a quirk in his lips, placing his book down next to him and cleared his throat. “Didn’t mean to startle you –”

You fell back against the mattress, lying on your back as you stared up at the ceiling. It wasn’t anything new – him letting himself into your place. You each had the other’s set of keys, but this was surely a first that he had sat himself down next to you while you slept.

“When did you get here?”

He checked his phone, before glancing back at you. “About ten minutes ago – looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you just yet.”

“Well thank you for that,” you rolled your head on your pillow, smiling up at him. “Happy Valentine’s day.”

Watching as the corner of his lips perked, he returned your sentiment. “Happy Valentine’s to you too,” he hummed, leaning over the small space between the both of you to press a light kiss over your lips.

He wrapped a hand around your shoulders, leaning down to kiss you once more. “Sorry again,” he murmured over your mouth.

You both pulled away with matching small smiles. “Let me go get ready,” murmuring quietly, you slowly pulled the warm comforter off your body. “I’ll be fast.”

Quickly crawling out from under the covers, going to get ready. You freshened up your makeup that had been rubbed off in your sleep, soft hues to accentuate your features as you took a little longer than planned when you attempted a different kind of eye look with your eyeliner.

Finishing with a small outfit change that you had already planned out ahead of time, a red silky skirt that hit just above your ankles, paired with a nice knit pink top that had little ties holding the front closed. You looked like Valentine’s Day had threw up over you and you loved it.

You were both soon exiting your apartment, hand in hand to the grocery store, and then back to his place for a nice dinner date together.

You had already planned on making a creamy quiche, filled with vegetables and a golden buttery crust. The dough had already been made ahead of time, only needing to take it out of the fridge so it could warm up a bit before filling it with all you wanted.

Wine had been poured, both already on your second glass by the time your dinner was in the oven.

Both impatient and wanting to exchange gifts, you sat yourselves down on the couch and handed each other your wrapped presents. Deciding on lowkey gifts, the two of you both having the same idea of gifting each other flowers as two bouquets now sat in vases on Harry’s windowsill.

He had gifted you a journal, thick paper bound together with a custom cover of his own art that he had gotten printed on a soft vellum. It was one your favourite painting of his, soft oranges that blended with light purples in a beautiful sun kissed sky. Vague outline of two silhouettes sat on the lower corner, two figures that blended with quiet blues and held each other close on a glowing empty street – two silhouettes who he always told you were the both of you.

Your gift to him was a thick light blue sweater, adorned with a small pattern of purple hearts over the front. You had immediately thought of him when you found it. Wanting to make it even more special, in orange thread you had embroidered the word “loved” right over the spot that would rest on his heart. He’d immediately pulled it over his head to wear.

Dinner had been followed by chocolate covered strawberries, those of which you had attempted to make yourself but had found to be not as easy as initially thought, a small mess of melted chocolate covering his kitchen counter to be delt with later. But that didn’t matter all that much not when you were sharing them with Harry.

Now you were both seated on the couch, a soft glow of candlelight around you mixed with the light coming from outside. You and Harry were curled up close together, both unable to stop looking at each other with heart shaped eyes.

“I’ve never really had a real Valentine’s day,” you’d told him, pouring yourself another glass of wine.

“Glad I could give you one,” he grinned at you, voice sounding melodic in your ears as couldn’t take your eyes off him. He looked particular good, his hair falling softly around his sharp features, brand new seater fitting perfectly over his chest. “Though I think it’s you who makes it special.”

You only laughed lightly, both the wine and his words making your head spin. You were sat across from each other on the couch knees pressed together with the occasional brush of a hand over the other’s leg, like two magnets who had to touch each other.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he chuckled with his eyes narrowed on yours.

“Like what?”

“You know like what,” he swirled the rest of the wine that sat in his glass, tilting it back against his lips to swallow the rest of it.

Choosing not to answer him, you instead leant forward closer to him. You didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped down to the expand of skin that led to the lowcut neckline of your shirt.

He mirrored you move, sitting forward and slowly closing the distance between the both of you. Your eyes dropped to his hand that had gone to rest over your knee, not thinking much as you rested your fingertips over his and traced the lines over his hand.

“I was thinking,” he hummed, hand dancing over your thigh.

You only nodded, watching him closely as you waited for him to continue.

“Remember our first date?”

You raised your glass to take a sip of the dark red alcohol. “Course I do,” you answered. “When you invited me over to paint?”

Harry nodded. Lifting an arm to rest over the back of the couch, you subconsciously shifted closer into his open side. “What do you say to doing that again?”

“You want to paint with me again?” You nudged his side with your elbow, a light teasing tone in your words. “With your muse?”

“I’m serious,” he laughed with a small shake in his chest. He rose from where he was sat next to you, going over to the corner of the room where he kept his boxes and drawers of supplies.

You rose from your relaxed position, sitting up straight on the couch. “You mean right now?”

He glanced over at you from over his shoulder, digging through his things for what he needed. “Why not?”

“Clothes are too nice to get paint on,” you laughed lightly, watching him pull out a small canvas and fully turn to face you.

“You don’t have to paint,” he murmured, walking back over to you and leaned down so that his face was at level with yours. “How about I paint you,” he pressed his lips to yours, “since y’look so pretty.”

“Sweet talker,” you hummed over his mouth, and he pressed one more peck to your lips before pulling away. “Where do you want me?”

“Where you are is good,” he shifted back from the couch, settling a short distance away from you with all he needed to paint. “Sit back – relax.”

Doing as he said, you watched as he got himself organized and was soon bending over a little blank canvas and laying colour reds and pinks all over it.

You were both quiet for a while – you watching him, and him dividing his time between watching you and the soft strokes of his brush over the canvas. Only the quiet hums of Vashti Bunyan filled the space of the room.

At one point, sweet soft little Cherry had bounced up onto the couch and sat with you for a moment as you covered her in affection, before she decided she didn’t want to be seen anymore and promptly left.

You had fallen into a small daze, not a tired one but a relaxed one, nearly entranced by the way Harry moved the brush so swiftly and delicately over the canvas.

After a while, you didn’t know how long, he murmured your name, head still looking down as he spoke lowly.

Only humming in response, you looked over at him as you watched his eyes flick up to yours.

“Skirts riding up a bit,” he spoke slowly, watching you with a gleam in his eyes.

“Oops,” you murmured quietly, “didn’t want me to move that much, right?”

He shook is head. “Don’t mind –” he shot you a sly little smile, and it could’ve just been the dim lighting but you were sure to have caught a little blush grace his cheeks.

You shifted your legs again, sliding your calves under your bum with a tilt to your torso, as the hem of the skirt rode up a bit higher. You saw Harry glance back down, as you were unable to help the teasing tone in your voice. “What is it?”

“Just distracting is all,” he didn’t look up at you but you could see the roundness in his cheeks that suggested his grin.

“Yeah?” You spoke lightly, moving again while you rose a hand to tug on one of the ties at the top of your blouse, pulling it open to reveal more of your chest. “Wouldn’t want that –”

He glanced at you as you cut yourself off, a short second of heavy eyes on you, following the gap that the fabric created with a dip down to the top of your breasts. You saw him pause, momentarily distracted before he looked back down to his painting with a shake to his head.

It was like that for a short while, a slow quiet game as Harry took longer and longer glances at you and you slowly teased him with soft movements. It was nearly embarrassing how easily you could get worked up over a simple stare, the intensity of his gaze that skimmed over your body always seemed to completely light you on fire.

Though it was him who gave in first, the painting not going nearly as smoothly as it was when he first started as he felt unable to think clearly, mind only occupied with thoughts of you. He found himself focusing on the curve of your lips, the dip of your chest, the way your eyes softened when his gaze met yours – he was unable to do anything but think about you.

Eventually, he placed his brush in his little cup of water, glancing back up at you for a beat before speaking. “D’you know what else I remember from our first date?”

Seeing him rise to his feet, he stretched out his legs before taking the few steps needed to be standing directly in front of you. You only looked up at him, tilting your chin up and watched him hover in front of you. He leant down and placed a hand on either side of you, palms dipping into the couch cushions.

When he leant lower so that his face was level with yours, you straightened out your spine a bit to sit completely parallel to him. He got impossibly close, tip of his nose about to brush over yours if you were to move half an inch.

“What else?” You whispered, watching as Harry flicked his eyes down to watch your mouth form the words.

“How it ended,” he closed the short distance, lips pressing over yours as when he spoke.

“You walking me home?” You pulled your head back an inch, eyes meeting his once again.

“Hmm,” he thought for a second. “The middle then.”

“May have to jog my memory,” you murmured, watching his lips curve up a bit before placing another kiss to your mouth.

You easily deepened the kiss, reaching a hand around him to grab over the back of his neck to pull him in for more. He remained hovering over you with his hands over the couch, mouths parting when you licked over his lips.

He tasted like the strawberries you had shared, a fruity sweetness mixed with the slightly bitter dark chocolate. You were sure you tasted the same – you wondered if you had a distinct taste that mingled with his when you kissed. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, one hand moving to the back of his neck to brush your fingertips over the warm skin.

He leant into your touch, shifting closer in so that his face could be at level with your own. He easily deepened the kiss, one hand rising from where it was supporting him and cupped your cheek with a firm grip to tilt your chin up to his.

“Mm,” he hummed softly over your mouth, pulling away from you for a beat. He bent his knees and sank down to the floor in front of you, and you followed his movements with your own, head tilting down to remain at level with his.

“Started a bit like this, didn’t it?” Your lips perked at his words, feeling his other hand move up over the couch and onto your hip, hands freed to grab at you all he wanted now that he didn’t need to support himself up.

“Think I need a little more to remember,” you told him, feeling his fingers knead over the silky fabric of your skirt and into your rounded skin.

He gladly complied, craning his neck up so that your mouths could reconnect.

You felt hot under his touch. His thumb was tracing the soft line of your jaw until it was gliding the curve of your bottom lip, while his other hand circled around the small of you back and tugged you closer towards the end of the couch, closer to him.

You sighed affectionately into his mouth as he rested his forearms over your folded legs. He was pressing his weight over you, a welcomed touch that had you leaning in closer as you sought out more of his mouth.

Pulling away with a small suck over his bottom lip, you watched his eyelids slowly part open to gaze up at you with darkened eyes.

“Wait right here,” he muttered, suddenly standing up and walking away from you with a quick pace in his step. You watched him move to the kitchen, the expanse of his back was the only thing visible to you from around the corner. You heard him run the tap for a moment before turning it off, and he was back in front of you just as fast. Settling himself back on his knees between your parted legs, his hands wasted no time before feeling your bare skin once more.

You suddenly felt a flush overtake your body, at the realization of what he had just done. At the realization that he had just washed the paint from his hands.

“Are you done painting for now?” You rose one of your hands up and traced the line of his cheek as you spoke, fingertips rising to push back some of the hair that was falling over his forehead.

“Well, you are a pretty convincing distraction, sunshine,” he kissed over your chin, urging you to tilt your head up while his lips slipped down your neck. His wet mouth suckled over your skin, while one of his hands traipsed over your hips, doing his best to wrap his arm around them to tug you closer.

He suddenly pulled away, just as his teeth nipped at the skin above your collarbone while his hot breath warmed your chest. “I think that first time was,” he muttered, head hanging low between your two bodies, watching his hands flatten over your thighs. He squeezed your knee, urging you to unfold your legs and part them around him. “More like this.”

You did as he silently asked, bringing your legs out from under your bum and swung your claves over the edge of the couch. With your knees perfectly parted, Harry easily stayed where he was in front of you now encased between your legs.

Instead of skimming his hands over the fabric of your skirt like you thought he would, he instead rested his chin on the corner of your leg and brought his fingers up over the waistband and on to the skin that was hidden under your shirt. You watched in quiet anticipation as he raised the knit blouse up a bit higher, all while his breath heated your legs.

“You’re the sweetest thing, know that?” Harry murmured, twisting his head so that his lips could smooth over the spot above your knee.

You whined under his touch, feeling his mouth press higher on the inside of your thighs while your skirt slowly inched up, nearly completely exposing you.

You placed your palms on the back of his hands that held your waist, grabbing a hold of his fingers to bring them lower down your body. He easily complied, gripping the silky fabric that covered your hips in his fingers as he slowly eased it up higher. He followed the hem of your skirt with his eyes, as more and more skin got exposed to him until the fabric was completely bunched up around the edge of your thighs.

You shifted over the couch, allowing the garment to move past your bum until it was bunched just bellow your waist. You didn’t move your eyes away from Harry, watching as his hands dropped to hold your bare thighs, his own eyes glued to your newly exposed centre.

“Sunshine,” his voice was breathless as his hands held the skirt over your form. “What’s all this?”

“It’s new,” you whispered, revelling in the way his warm hands moved over the curve of your hips and onto the delicate underwear that covered you. You keened into his touch, feeling hot under his hungry eyes. “Thought of you when I found it –”

He groaned low in his throat, one hand sliding around your soft skin until his fingers were brushing over the thin straps around your hips “Baby,” he said lowly, watching the way the swell of the skin moved under his touch. “For me?”

The underwear was a light blue mesh fabric, with thin straps that rose high over your hips and tied shut with little bows. In small patterns that covered the expanse of the front, was a delicate embroidery in light whites and oranges; a trail of white little flowers paired with bunches of oranges.

You bent forward, searching for his mouth as your fingers lightly held his jaw to move him closer to where you wanted him. He craned his neck up, mouth immediately finding yours, kissing you hotly while his hands roamed over your skin.

“Please tell me there’s a matching top,” he muttered into your mouth, fingers tugging at your blouse.

You placed your hands over his, promptly removing your shirt. He pulled back from you, sitting on his heals, watching you with heavy eyes while you pulled the soft fabric over your head and tossed it aside.

His hands remained firm over your hips, eyes eating up inch of your skin. He quietly dragged his fingertips up your sides, dragging them up onto the underside of your breasts as he watched the swell of skin move under his touch.

“Like it?” You hummed, meeting his dark eyes with a tilt of your chin.

The top matched the bottom, underwire of the bra keeping your breasts up as the cups were thin and sheer, covered in the same small colourful embroidered of oranges and flowers. Harry lightly traced the patterns with his fingertips, wanting to feel every inch of the bra.

He didn’t answer you, and only leaned in closer so that he could press his lips over your stomach, soft smoothing movements up to your sternum while his hands palmed over your breasts. He followed the embroidered detailing over your pebbled nipple with light teasing touches.

“You’re a dream,” his hot beath sent a shiver down your spine, lips smoothing back down once more as his hands got a firm grip over your thighs. “Nothing I love more –” he inhaled deeply, “than being between your leg like this.”

He completely bypassed where you hoped he would end up, instead kissing up over the inside of your legs, hands smoothing on your thighs to give him more access. He dug his digits into the soft skin, lips replacing his touch as hot open-mouthed kisses licked over the sensitive spots.

You knew where he was headed, you knew he loved to play this game with you, but you were growing a bit impatient as he sucked into the inside of your thighs, no doubt leaving marks that would bruise a purplish red tomorrow.

“Baby-“

“Baby what?” He muttered over your thigh, loud kiss on the skin. “What d’you want? Tell me,” his tongue licked over your skin, a small nip of his teeth over the sensitive skin.

“Your mouth,” you whimpered, hands smoothing over his the crook of his shoulder and up over his neck in search for his hair to tug on.

“Where?” His breath was oh so hot, fanning over your skin in a way that you were sure would light you on fire if he continued. His fingertips toyed with the thin fabric that covered you, snapping the elastic over your skin as your breath hitched in your throat.

“You know –” you choked, feeling a new wave of heat shoot through your stomach when his hands wrapped around your thighs. “Just like our first date, right?”

“Right,” his chest shook with a soundless laugh, hands reaching behind to hold over your bum and tugging you even closer to him. He was so close you could feel the soft breaths of air leave his nose and tickle the crest of your thighs. You were sure that there was a wet spot forming over your new underwear, visible to the man between your thighs. “Want me to taste you, just like the first time?”

You hummed in the air, unable to form a proper sentence when his tongue poked out from his lips and he pressed it flat against your covered core.

“Was that,” he pulled his mouth away far to fast, “when you knew?”

His fingers were tugging at the soft straps that were tight around your hips, easing the fabric down ever so slowly. You let out a breathy sigh, “what?”

Moving his head back, Harry kept his eyes glued to the skin his fingers were uncovering. “Was that when you knew you liked me?”

A breathy laugh escaped your lips, as you rose your hips up so that he could ease the flimsy material down your thighs. “That wasn’t it.”

He was so enthralled with the sight of you in front of him, that there was a slight lag while he processed your words. Moving back as your underwear hung just above your knees, glancing up to meet your gaze through heavy eyelids.

His swollen lips pouted. “When was it, then?”

Smiling down at your lover, your fingers found their way over his cheek once again, trailing over the curve of his cheekbone and down to his jaw. “When you kept bugging me at work,” you laughed slightly at the memory, “and when you wanted to stay and close the shop with me.”

Another kiss to your thigh. “And I really knew when you brought me those mandarin oranges.”

His eyes bore into yours, another exaggerated pout of his mouth. “That was after.”

“Well,” you hummed, nails scratching over his scalp, “had to make sure, didn’t I?”

“Guess you did,” he leant in even closer, a kiss right at the crest of your thigh that had your breath hitching in your throat.

You saw him move, but it was still a small shock when his mouth was felt over your folds. After a light lick of his tongue, he was pulling away within seconds.

He urged your legs to further part for him, wrapping his arms around your thighs to pull to spread you wider. His mouth was back on you within seconds, tongue pushing against your clit with slow licks over the sensitive nub.

Mouth widening over your centre, tasting more of your arousal. A quiet moan escaped your mouth when he circled his lips over your clit, sucking with quiet determination.

He had one hand gripping into your thigh, sure to be little crescent moon shapes left behind from his nails that would be indented as a reminder for how good he makes you feel. You let your head fall back, hitting the back of the couch with a near uncomfortable bend to your back, but you didn’t care. One of your hands was still mussing up his hair, tugging at the soft strands when his mouth felt particularly good against your clit.

Your other hand was being blindly sought after by Harry’s own palm, eyes glanced up through his eyelashes to meet your own with a sly smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. He seemed to wordlessly speaking to you, quiet lustful gazes before delving back in with slow, teasing movements through your folds.

His palm fit over the back of your hand. He held over you, moving your pliable hand to turn it in his grasp, fingers dancing with yours all while you both pushed into the seat of the couch.

“Hold m’hand,” his voice was muffled over your cunt, soft vibrations shooting up your spine both at the feeling of him speaking and the tenderness of his words.

You easily interlocked your fingers, palms pressed together as you dug your nails in the back of his hand when his tongue was back searching for the arousal that was dripping over your skin.

His moves into your cunt were slow, too slow. Tongue flattening over your folds with deep pushes into you, before soft teasing circles were graced over your clit. You were arching your back over the couch, hips seeking his mouth as you quietly begged for more. He alternated between pushing just over the entrance of your hole, sliding through the wet mess and up to your clit to pull beautiful moans from you.

“Taste so sweet,” his groaned, as you whimpered for more. “D’you like it when I eat your sweet little cunt like this?”

You rolled your hips up at his words. He often muttered sweet confessions of love, and dirty little thoughts. But when he got like this, when his words turned you to a mess of a puddle while he indulged the both of you, you couldn’t help but feel like you were melting under him.

The two of you had a certain kind of completeness when you had sex – a passionate unity that worked together. He would let you take charge when you wanted, so attentive to what you needed and loving nothing more than seeing you get off.

But sometimes you set off a certain stir deep in his stomach, that had him wanting to pin you down and be as unrelenting as he could until you were screaming his name.

His desire grew the louder you got, the desire to make you come and the desire for you¸ as simple as that. Every sweet vibration through your chest, every quiet whimper and every call of his name that you unashamedly whimpered out. He knew the more he teased the more desperate you’d get, and he also knew it wouldn’t take much asking on your part for him to give in to anything you wanted.

After a particularly harsh tug to his hair, he lifted his mouth from where it was paying you attention and you let out an even louder whine in the absence of his touch.

“Harry,” you moaned sweetly, your eyes boring into his, both holding intense stares while you were positively begging for him. “Please make me come.”

His lips brushed over your thigh once again, looking up at you through his eyelashes as you pleaded for him to touch you. He didn’t say anything, and instead dragged his free hand around your thigh and to your centre, until he had two fingers dragged through the wetness created both by your arousal and his saliva.

You let out a heavy breath at the touch, chest quickly rising and falling while your heartbeat thundered in your ears. Harry watched as the swell of your breasts strained against the soft blue fabric, pausing for a moment as he wanted to keep your fingers interlocked but also wanted to feel up the skin of your chest.

Deciding on the former, he kept your hands together and pressed the back of your hand further into the cushions of the couch. His other hand was trailing lower, his fingers now slick with you around your entrance before he pushed into you with ease.

You moaned under his touch, the fullness of his fingers inside of you had you twisting your hips over the couch as you ached to feel him hit that delicious spot inside of you.

His mouth was back over the inside of your thighs, your skin burning under his touch when he kissed over the little red marks that he had earlier made, just as they were starting to darken in colour. He was all over you at once open lips back over your clit and licking deeply with determined moves of his tongue over you. His fingers slowly began to move inside of you, curling the two digits up as he gained a steady pace and repeatedly hit that smooth spongey spot inside of you that made your vision blur and your toes curl.

You were having trouble keeping your eyes open, letting your head fall back once more as your free hand pulled at his hair, subconsciously matching the brushes of your hand with his slow strokes. Your other hand was pulling at Harry’s, squeezing it so tightly as he was working you up.

The familiar burning in your lower belly was growing hotter and hotter, tight coil getting closer to snapping. You could feel his nose pressed against your pelvis, his chin bumping his own fingers after particularly harsh thrusts – he was completely buried between your thighs. You were sure to be making a mess over his lower face, the thought making you squirm even more in his touch.

Letting out a loud gasp at the low vibrations that were felt when Harry moaned, when he muttered quiet words that demanded all of your attention to figure out what he was saying.

“This what you wanted, sunshine?” He pulled his lips away, loud kisses over your thighs as he watched you slowly unravel under him, refusing to keep his mouth off any part of you.

He couldn’t choose where he wanted to keep his gaze. At your soft blissed out face with your lips under your teeth and fluttering eyelids, or at the expanse of your chest with the beautiful garment that graced your skin, or right in front of him at your swollen cunt that was shining in arousal and at the way his fingers sank into of you.

The music was still softly playing the background, a quiet secondary noise to every melodic moan that was sounding from your throat, the music in fact all but forgotten when obscenely wet sounds filled the space once more.

“Oh – Harry,” you moaned when his tongue was back over you, knowing you were growing closer to your release from the way you clenched around his fingers.

“Feels good?” He asked, as if it wasn’t already obvious.

You whined with a nod, holding onto him as tightly as you could. “So good – fuck,” you moaned, hips bucking up when your climax was right around the corner. Words were spilling from your mouth, sentences jumbling without much sense. “Love you so –”

He hummed over you, his hand giving yours a few quick squeezes as he felt you clench around his fingers. Again, he murmured something that you couldn’t even begin to make out, focusing on his touch rather than his words.

“Y’love me?” His voice rang through yours ear, suddenly louder than your thundering heartbeat.

“Yeah,” your voice was a dreamy breath of air. “I do.”

He mumbled something that sounded like a “fucking love you,” before you were meeting your release against his mouth and around his fingers. He didn’t relent, mouth hot and open over you with continuous tugs to your clit as his fingers pushed so deeply inside of you.

You moaned low in your chest as you came, every touch of his skin on yours sending electricity through your nerves. Your legs jolted from around him at the sensitivity of your clit, as he kept sliding his tongue over the bundle of nerves while you calmed down from your orgasm.

Eyes parting open, you saw Harry pull away from between your legs as he fully sat back on his legs and withdrew his fingers from you. With his fingertips trailing down your thighs, he rose his slicked fingers up to his mouth to taste every last bit of you.

Your breath was coming out unevenly, and you nearly moaned at the erotic sight before you. His wet lips kissed your knee once more, his voice was low, laced with desire when he spoke your name. “How was that?”

You didn’t answer right away, a smile pulling at your lips as you shook with a happy laugh. Pushing yourself up from the couch, you used all the strength in your shaky legs to slide off the furniture and into the lap of your lover.

“Just like the first time,” you breathed, words fanning over his chin as he easily held you in an embrace.

He felt like he was losing feeling in his legs, small soreness in his knees so he shifted you over him until he was able to extend his legs out over the floor and you could straddle his thighs. Completely removing the skirt, you tossed it aside as you were left in only your lingerie. Upon his request, you had slid your underwear back on instead of letting it fall to the floor. He hummed against you when you easily fell back into each other, lips seeking your mouth in a desperate, messy kiss.

Slowly grinding your hips over his, every inch of him hard underneath you could be felt. Harry rolled his head back on his neck, exposing the expanse of skin to you as you repeated the motion over his hips.

Taking the chance to lean in closer, your lips landed over his neck in light sucks of kisses. “Love you,” he whispered into the air, fingertips digging into the skin of your waist.

“Yeah?” You hummed over his skin, licking a strip up the column of his neck. One of your hands danced along his throat, tracing down until your fingers were following the dip of his collarbone and circling around his back. “Do you?”

“You have no idea,” he breathed, chin dipping down once again as his nose nudged yours when he sought out your lips.

Leaving kiss up over his cheek, you didn’t stop until your teeth lightly tugged at his earlobe. “How do you want me?”

You felt his hands brush along your bare back, slow and steady movements that juxtaposed with both of your rapidly beating hearts.

“Pull me out, angel,” he already felt your hands playing with the waistband of his pants, soft tugs at the rough fabric.

As your fingers made quick work to pull at the zipper of his trousers, he momentarily lifted his hands from your body so that he could pull his shirt up over his head. His skin was warm when he wrapped his arms around once again, shifting his hips so that you could move his pants and briefs down together in one swift move.

Having to lift off him so that you could completely let the clothes fall from his legs, you pushed the heap of fabric aside before quickly settling back into his lap. His cock looked painfully hard, a soft curve upwards that led to his raspberry red tip.

Your hands were on him within seconds, bowing your head in the small space between the two of you. Pursing your lips, you let spit fall from your mouth and onto his length. Sliding your hands over the wetness, Harry gently groaned your name with a tight grab at your hips when you squeezed him in your grasp.

“Please,” he quietly cursed, watching you with darkened eyes as another moan tumbled from his mouth. “Wanna feel you –”

You pressed a kiss over his cupid’s bow. “Like this?” You smiled gently against his mouth, “on the floor?”

He returned your smile hands on either side of you as he tried to pull you closer to where he wanted you sat over him. “Just like our first date, yeah?”

Breathy laugh at his words, you slowly nodded and shifted your hips higher. You were about to grab at the elastics of your underwear, going to pull them back down over your hips but Harry was quick to stop you. “Keep ‘em on,” he whispered, silly little smirk playing at his lips, “just push them aside.”

Folding your lips into your mouth, you bit back a smile as you knew he’d ask you to keep the bra on as well. Doing as he wanted, you rose a hand from his shoulder to pull the front of your underwear to the side, with the other hand still keeping a firm grasp over his cock. He was supporting himself up with on hand on the floor behind him, so that he could remain so close to you. His legs bent at the knee, making you edge towards him with your chests nearly pressed together, and the soft move prompted you to slide the head of his cock through your folds.

Easing him in with a slow move, you lowered your hips as he filled you so deeply until you were sat completely flush together. His chest shook with a moan as you did so, hands squeezing into your thighs as you both sat motionless for a moment.

He fit so deeply into you, with the slight stretch that always felt brand new. You rose your hands to wrap around his shoulders, nails nearly clawing at his skin to pull him in for a kiss.

“You feel perfect,” he moaned against your mouth, guiding your hips to urge you to move in small grinds over his. “Squeezing me so tight.”

With you both sat upright, he always felt even deeper inside of you in this position. You ground your hips in slow circles, starting to move in teasing grinds, before lifting yourself up over him and then back down in a sharper thrust than you’d intended.

You moaned over him, head falling into the crook of his neck as you muttered something about how deep he felt inside of you.

Repeating the motion, Harry planted his feet over the floor with an even greater bend to his legs that had your seated so fully against him. He met your moves, slow and sharp thrusts between your legs that already had you working towards a second orgasm.

One of his hands skimmed over your hips, sliding between your bodies with as his fingers applied a light pressure to your lower belly. His voice was gravelly when he moaned into your cheek. “Feel me right here?”

“Yeah,” you sighed dreamily, eyes shutting close with a harsh bite to your bottom lip. You tilted your head back up, another deep thrust inside of you. “Always so deep.”

Harry’s hand found its way to your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin in a soothing gentle action. He quietly urged you to open your eyes for him, to stare into his as he wanted you to see how good you were making him feel.

You saw him with slightly bloodshot eyes, cheeks tinted pink and a light dewiness to his skin. He looked so completely blissed out, corner of his swollen lips turned to a sly smile. Bowing his head down, he attached his lips to your collarbone and left a trail of wet marks over your skin until his teeth were nipping at the swell of your breasts that were spilling out from the top of your bra.

Arching your back in his touch, you slowed the movements of your hips again and went back slow rutting, clenching around him when he whined your name with a matching squeeze of his hand that had found its hold on your hip once more.

Without much warning, he lowered himself to lay completely on the floor, back resting over the soft rug as he didn’t have the energy to hold himself up any longer. He let his knees bent further with his feet on the floor, keeping you in your place as he was able to hit slow teasing thrusts up into you.

His eyes never left you, watching you sat so beautifully as both his hands now grabbed at your hips, guiding you over him. He found it hard to look away from where you were connected, watching his slick cock disappear inside of you. “So gorgeous, sunshine,” he was muttered quietly, “how did I get so lucky?”

Both of your motions were speeding up again, his thrusts meeting yours harder than before as he found that his release was coming right around the corner. He reveled in the way his name sounded from your mouth, as you clenched tightly around him with your own orgasm seeming to approach as well.

You had flattened out your hands over the expanse of his chest, giving yourself leverage while you moved over his length. Your head hung low, nails digging into his skin when he hit that spot inside of you that made your breathing falter. “Oh…!” You whimpered wetly, “there, there please.”

His stomach clenched tightly at your cries, feeling you squeeze around him his fingers matched the squeeze around your hips. He kept going, watching you fall more and more into a whimpering mess over him until he felt like he was about to explode.

“Slow down,” he choked, a harsh hold of your thighs in an attempt to stop your rapid moves. “Slow down,” he chanted, wild moves of his eyes between your own. “Stay like this for a moment.”

Doing as he asked, you completely halted and gave yourself a moment to catch your breath. Bending down, you laid completely on top of him which gave a nice ease to your knees. Pressing your chest flush to his, your chins bumped as you smiled down at him.

He didn’t miss any more time before pressing his sweet lips over yours, kissing you with all the desire that was apparent in his eyes. Your lips parted as he pushed his tongue against yours, tasting each other for what was probably the thousandth time but it always felt like the first.

Your arms were easily all over him, nails digging into the muscles of his arms as he kissed you deeply. He pulled back with a tug to your bottom lip with his teeth, licking over the sensitive skin after releasing the plump skin.

“My sunshine,” he hummed, lips capturing your chin as he moved further down your body. Kissing over your jaw, a soft bit over just under your earlobe as he knew every spot that made you whine.

With his hands guiding your hips, you slowly began to move around him once more. Straightening out your spine to rise to a seated position, you watched as one of Harry’s hands moved forward to cup over your core, right above where you were connected.

“Won’t last much longer,” he whimpered, already working right back near his edge as soon as you started sinking back down on him.

You moaned in agreement, also easily getting worked closer to your release when he dragged his fingers over your clit in quick circles. You were both finding another steady rhythm, hips pumping together as the noise of your actions filled the room, only seeming to spur you on.

“Please come for me again,” he moaned, begging to feel you squeeze him dry. “Wanna feel you – please.”

It was like something was opened inside of you, meeting your release as he begged from under you. Moaning his name with heaving breaths, feeling your walls clench around him when your orgasm took over your body. Your thighs tensed, eyes squeezing shut with a little smile painting your mouth at the euphoria coursing through your body.

“Fuck – it’s gonna be,” your movements had slowed over him as you came, while Harry spluttered nearly incoherently, “– I’m coming.” He warned, a sharp thrust up into you before he was painting your walls with his release. Sloppy thrusts inside of you while pulling at your hips, grabbing over the small of your back to hug you close while calling your name over and over like it was a song that was stuck in his head.

Your chest fell over his with a heaviness that neither of you minded, revelling the complete closeness you had to the other in that moment. His chest was rising and falling with quick breaths, lips over your hairline as he peppered the lightest of kisses laced with praises for you.

Eventually, you lifted your upper half and parted your eyes to gaze down at the man below you. Pressing your mouth over his, you felt him smile under your touch as you murmured a soft, “happy Valentine’s Day.”

His own eyes parted, watching you with nothing but love his in softened eyes, as you pressed another whisper to his mouth. “Thank you for being my Valentine.”

You’d always felt comfortable with Harry, but for some reason at this moment you felt better than you ever had with him. The way he looked at you like you hung the moon, the way he softly whispered your name as his lips sought to touch any part of you.

Harry returned the affection, quiet “I love you’s” pressed into your skin before you were moving off of him with shaky legs.

He followed when you rose to your feet, the painting long forgotten by now as you both went to the washroom to get cleaned up. Your makeup had been ruined once more, eyeliner smudged by your teary eyes so you ended up scrubbing it all off, completely your skincare before changing into a cozy stolen hoodie and settled into your partner’s bed.

Harry soon joined, only in a pair of sweatpants and the forgotten chocolates from earlier in hand. He settled in under the covers with you, as you both shared chocolates and chocolate flavoured kisses.

“How about you,” you started with a quiet murmur as your head rested over Harry’s shoulder. The chocolates were on your lap, one of Harry’s arms around you as peered down at you. “When did you know you liked me?”

You saw Harry’s lips perk from the corner of your eye. He thought it over for barely a second, before answering. “Is it too cheesy to say the first time I saw you?”

Nodding your head with a little laugh, although you melted further into him at the tenderness of his words. “Yes, it is too cheesy.”

“Fine,” his lips pursed with an overly dramatic pout, and he took another minute to think. “When I ran into you at the supermarket that one evening,” he thought back to the memory, “I remember seeing you choosing your vegetables like it was the most important decision of your life.”

You tilted your face, easily finding his lips to press a light little kiss to. “Well, maybe it was,” you whispered playfully, as he leant into your mouth when you pulled away.

Resting your temple of the curve of his shoulder once more, you kept your eyes trained on him. Harry held your gaze, mumbling quietly as his hands squeezed your arm. “You’re still looking at me like that.”

You batted your eyelashes up at him, unable to help the way your pupils were probably heart shaped at the moment. “Like what?”

“You know like what.”

Your smile deepened. “Can’t help it.”

Sighing happily next to him, you melted a bit more into his side as he held you closer. His lips smoothed over the top of your head, mumbling sweetly, “me neither, sunshine.”

Once again, the sweet little act of painting had led to something magical, a feeling of blissful joy you’d never thought possible until Harry came along.

once again, happy valentines to everyone 💕 thank you for reading 💕

#okay im off <333 #this is yea i think its okay i thin the ending i nice <3 #cb #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut

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sexy-bee-juice · 4 years ago

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which hq boys would let you paint their nails

This is the first time I’ve written something on here so feedback is welcome <333

Im trying hc’s so-

KARASUNO

Hinata

- He would.

- 10/10 would recommend.

- He would stare at you for a minute and be like, “what?” then you would show him the bottle of nail polish and he would just U N D E R S T A N D

- He would definitely flaunt it to his team. would be so proud.

- Honestly doesn't care about the color, just wants his nails DONE.

- Like, you could be the worst at applying it and get it all over his cuticles and fingers and smudge it everywhere, but he will still love how you did it . It doesn't even have to be all fancy with a design or something or rhinestones he will still love it.

- But...

-Please do the rhinestones and designs. H e will literally be so happy. Smack a volleyball or a dumpling design on those nails and he will literally cry. Rhinestones? He will carry around a little flashlight and shine it on the stones to see them sparkle.

- He just wants to do it and maybe have matching nails with you.

- Don't even ask he’ll do it.

Tsukishima

-No. NopE.

-Im sorry bby, but he will not.

- Would stare at you for a whole of two seconds and say no then go back to whatever the heck this man was doing

- Might consider it if you chose a flat or rlly subtle color like...grey. or white.

-Boring. maybe if you included dinosaurs.

-or do it when he’s sleeping. and put some dinos on it.

-Will be mad at first, but will eventually get used to it.

- Only sneak attacks will get this man to accept it.

-Will ask you to remove it if he needs to go somewhere.

Sugawara

-HE WILL BE SO HAPPY TO DO IT.

- PROBABLY WALKS IN ON YOU PAINTING YOUR NAILS ALONE AND WILL ASK IF YOU CAN DO HIS.

- 1000/10 would recommend

- Won’t flaunt it, but will totally be proud to tell everyone why his nails are painted.

-Probably get everyone else to get their nails painted by you as well.

- Gets you to paint his and the rest of the teams nails before every big match. team colors.

- Whenever he goes shopping with you low-key looks for new nail polish and buys it when you aint lookin’.

- Probably has a whole variety of slightly different shades of the teams colors.

- Isnt too flashy so might not want rhinestones or sparkles, but will definetely love any little chibi designs you put on.

- Especially the animals. Give him a giraffe and he will be so i love with them, he will be staring at his nails the whole time.

- Will be so happy he asked the first time.

Asahi

-Will definitely be shy at first.

-If you ask him he will be all blushy and stuttery, but will agree.

- But after you finish, he will definitely end up smudging it and ruining anything you put on it.

- Designs? Gone. Ruined.

-Rhinestones? Fell off. never to be seen again.

-Glitter? Mess. Don't even ask.

- Will apologize about a million times and might even let you fix them, and will not move an inch until you tell him to move.

- Will basically be a ragdoll when it comes to you doing his nails, but will ask you to get the. STUFF. OFF. WHEN HE LEAVES.

-Otherwise is totally open about whatever. maybe makeovers and stuff is welcome, but only after a lot of bribing and begging.

Sawamura

-OMG

-YES.

-DONT EVEN ASK

-”Daichi?” You hold up the bottle. “will you-”

-”yes.”

“wha-?”

-”yes”

-and thats how he came to practice will bright pink nails and sushi figures on his fingers. You can be the worst, and much like Hinata he will still love whatever you did.

-Like, this man will be openly obsessed with nail polish and manicures, even though he knows it isnt something that a guy like him, y’know, big(ish), plays volleyball, most likely has calloused hands, would do.

-Will most likely make it a routine to do each others nails every weekend, with a new style or design, with you doing his, and him doing yours.

-Will spend HOURS DOING YOURS

-just do it. he loves you and he will do whatever without question.

Nishinoya

-Do I even have to say it?

-He would got he full 10000000000000000000000000000%

-RHINESTONES? YES

-GLITTER? ALSO YES.

-YOU WANT TO PUT FLOWERS OF SUSHI ON IT?

-DO IT.

-HE WANTS TO TRY AS WELLL LET HIM

- “PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE MOMMA?”

-”YEAH I CAN DO I WANNA TRY”

-just let the boy do what he must, but supervise him otherwise he might try to dye his hair with the glittery nail polish.

-might be one of the most hyped out of everyone to get his nails done.

Tanaka

-he will be skeptical at first but will do it eventually after a lot of bribing and maybe making him a bit jealous if you go do one of the teammates nails and hint at it.

-otherwise no and im sorry

-BUT IF YOU DID MAKE HIM JEALOUS, THEN HE WILL MAKE YOU GO THE 110% AND MAKE EM THE MOST GLAMOROUS NAILS EVER.

-WORTHY OF EVEN THE GREATEST NAIL ARTIST, EVEN BETTER THAN THE ONES THAT DO THOSE AMAZING ASS NAILS FOR YOUTUBE.

-OR IF YOU REFUSE HE WILL TRY DO DO HIS OWN OF GET HIS MOM TO DO HIS.

-MIGHT BUY A BOTTLE SECRETLY AND GET NOYA TO DO IT IF HIS MOM SAYS NO.

-JEALOUSY IS KEY

(oh here we go-)

Kageyama

-now imagine in the gif above that you are Hinata.

-that’s his exact reaction.

-no matter how much you beg, he will not do it.

-bby even if you burst into tears he wont.

-actually scratch that he will. he will be the definition of P A N I C

-and thats when you say if he lets you do his nails then he will look away with a light blush dusting his cheeks then will mumble a very quiet quiet,

-”fine...”

-of which then you will be so happy and the tears will vanish and he will be pouty but will let you do whatever the fuck you want to his setter fingers

-and his gorgeous nails will be decorated with whatever.

-you

-want

-<333

-so go crazy :)))

Yamaguchi

-now heres where im stuck

-im sure he will be flustered and refuse,

-but i also think hell agree immediately.

-so... probably with bribing, and like tsukki, he will want flat colors, no design.

-and subtle colors.

-not much to this guy but if tsukki starts to make fun of him he will be pressured to remove the nail polish and might start subconsciously picking it off.

-poor bby tell him its ok and that he’ll be perfect and look amazing with his pretty nails

-that will make him feel really good and prideful about it and he might let you do his nails again, so long as he gets to wear gloves around tsukki.

thank youuu feedback is welcome!

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dbseamz · 4 years ago

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The long awaited second half of my first fanfic!

This is the second half (Part 2 of 2) of “Truth and Love Revealed”, my fluffy Rocketshipping confession/first kiss fanfic. The first half worked as a standalone but I wanted to add more, and it turns out I’m a lot better at writing from Jessie’s POV. Or maybe I felt I could flesh it out more because I wasn’t trying to upload it on a Valentine’s Day deadline. Or both.

Side note, if anyone can walk me through how to use Ao3 (particularly the tagging system) I’d love to post both halves together there and reach more readers. I also want to add illustrations at some point.

Here it is:

The distant screech of a Dodrio woke Jessie shortly after sunrise. She kept her eyes closed--if that had been a dream, she didn’t want it to be over. And such a vivid dream, too--she thought she could still feel his arm around her shoulders, heavy and warm under the top of her sleeping bag...

Wait a minute.

Opening her eyes, at first all she could see was James’s sleeping face in front of her. His dark lashes brushed his cheeks, and the little wisp of hair he could never tame hung down, almost touching the pillowlike cushion of his sleeping bag. She could hear the faintest of snores; his mouth was slightly open, each breath making the hair that lay across his cheek flutter.

For once she let her guard down and allowed herself to fully appreciate just how beautiful he was. It ached, to think of him that way, when she knew her attempts at finding love always went wrong. And that he seemed reluctant, even scared of the idea of dating a girl.

A soft sound interrupted her conflicted state. James was mumbling indistinctly in his sleep, his lips moving slightly before settling as he went quiet again.

His lips...she could still remember what it had felt like to kiss him. No dream of hers had ever been that clear before, or focused on one sequence of events so long instead of dissolving from one scenario to the next. A tiny spark of hope lit in the back of Jessie’s mind in spite of herself.

And as she stared at his mouth, all soft and relaxed in sleep, she noticed the tiniest smudge of pink on his upper lip. It looked like lip gloss.

Her lip gloss.

It wasn’t a dream! She gasped and barely managed to keep from making some sudden sound that would have awakened James too abruptly, but he must have heard or felt something because the hand on her back moved a bit and his face twitched. The deep, rhythmic breathing faltered as his brilliant green eyes blinked sleepily, then he saw her and his face seemed to light up, those lips curving into a warm smile. “Good morning, Jess.”

She tried to speak and instead produced a sort of high pitched noise like a Pikachu might make if its mouth were covered. Instantly embarrassed, she yanked the corner of her sleeping bag over her head, hearing James trying not to laugh as he sat up.

“What was that for?” he asked, lifting the cloth away from her face. There was no teasing in his expression, just that wonderful soft smile she remembered from last night. When she had peeked through her eyelashes as he described everything he loved about her.

“It wasn’t a dream,” she replied. Half asking.

“Ohhhh...No, no it wasn’t.” He reached down and helped her into a sitting position on top of her sleeping bag, facing him.

“So…” her voice got fainter as she spoke. “Do you really…” Her mouth formed the words love me, silently.

Those gorgeous eyes looked straight into hers. “Yes.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

He met her eyes. Hesitating a bit, as if he too felt that all of this was almost too good to be true, he spoke. “I...I love you, Jessie.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks; she knew it would be clear from her expression that these were happy tears so she said nothing, only watched and listened as he repeated himself. Perhaps he was just as thrilled by the sound of the words as she was.

“Jessica, I love you. I’ve loved you for...so long. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to say this.”

So her faint hopes and guesses had been true? Part of her wanted more proof.

Another part remembered that tiny pink smudge.

“Then kiss me.”

He blinked, looking surprised, then smiled. He didn’t say anything aloud, certainly nothing as bold or cliché as I thought you’d never ask, but his face said he really had been hoping, and not quite believing, that she would make such a request. She puckered her lips and leaned a little closer, waiting. At last, he reached for her, one hand gently cupping the back of her head and neck, the other over her shoulder, his palm warming her back. Slowly, carefully, tilting his head just enough not to bump noses, he fitted his lips against hers.

His kiss was no less passionate than hers had been last night, but he was so tender and gentle that it was an altogether different experience. This time, the feeling of warmth didn’t fizz--it flowed, slow and sweet like sugar syrup. She leaned a little closer to him, eyes closed, and felt his silky hair brush her face.

Too soon, he withdrew, the hand that had supported her head brushing lightly against her cheek as he sat up straight again. Jessie blinked, reeling from the overwhelming sensation.

“How was that?” he murmured, his beautiful green eyes shining softly.

She reached for him, clumsily. “More.”

He laughed, sounding delighted, and scooped her onto his lap instead. She was almost as tall as him, so she had to scrunch down to see more than the side of his head. They shifted until he sat cross-legged and she sat sideways in the space between his knees, leaning back against the arm he’d wrapped around her shoulders with her own arm around his.

Lowering her eyelashes but not fully closing her eyes, Jessie tilted her face up, lips slightly parted. James looked at her, grinned, then leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose, startling a giggle from her. He laughed along with her, then kissed her cheek. And her chin. And her other cheek. And her forehead just below the point of her hairline, so light and tickly that she almost forgot that wasn’t what she had asked him for...almost. The laughter in his eyes reminded her.

“Ja-ames,’ she complained with a playful pout.

“Oh, all right,” he said in the same exaggerated tone, trying not to smile and failing. This kiss was just as affectionate, and she returned it eagerly, wrapping her free hand around the back of his head like he’d done for her. Pressed close against him, she could feel the thump of his heart, quick and strong.

A familiar voice cut through the warm haze in her mind. “Were either of yous gonna tell me about this, or was I s’posed ta wake up to you smoochin’ right in front of me?”

James started and pulled away. He and Jessie twisted around to glare at Meowth--or at least Jessie glared. James just looked rather guilty.

“Is there something you want us to tell you?” Jessie asked, more than a little irritated at the interruption.

“Um. No. Wait, yes!” The little feline’s face brightened. “Who confessed first?”

“Uh—”

“Me.” James’s face flushed pink.

“Ha!” crowed Meowth. “Wobbuffet owes me!”

They had bets on us?! Jessie made to move, but James squeezed her shoulder, urging her with his eyes to relax. She sighed and stayed put, but couldn’t resist saying, “Just so you know, fuzz head, I kissed him first. In case that evens your wager.”

She could feel James laughing silently as Meowth sputtered angrily and stopped digging in their bags for Wobbuffet’s Pokeball. “Hmph. At least I can tell ‘im I found out your secret first.” That thought seemed to cheer him, and he chortled to himself as he began packing away their small camp.

James must have recognized that Jessie was still annoyed, and seemed to be trying to distract her. He stroked her cheek lightly, and in spite of herself she leaned into it, squinting her eyes shut, savoring the gentle touch. He chuckled.

“What?”

Inclining his head toward Meowth, James replied, “I’ve seen him make the same face when someone pets him.” The amusement in his voice faded into mild curiosity as she moved her head slightly to stay in contact with his hand. “You’re touch-starved, aren’t you?”

“Mnph.” It made her sound vulnerable, put that way. And yet there was a part of her that did crave the simple feeling of contact, from the firm, reassuring pressure of his hugs to the delicate brush of his fingertips on her bare skin. It was hard to tell whether or not that came from her feelings for James specifically, but maybe he was right.

He had withdrawn his hand, looking concerned. “I didn’t mean you should stop,” she muttered, half reaching for his hand before he rested it on her cheek again.

That got even more of a laugh. “Just like Meowth.”

“Tell her all my embarrassin’ feline habits, why don’t you?” came the complaint.

“Says the cat who wouldn’t shut up about discovering our secret, when we weren’t even trying to keep it a secret. And besides, I know about ‘em al...ready…” Jessie would have said more, but James had started tracing her hairline with the tip of one finger, then sliding the side of his hand along her jaw. It tickled but in a very good way.

Delicious shivers ran up and down her spine, multiplying as he traced the curve of her ear. Her eyelids fluttered, and she felt as if she were melting into his arms. Maybe it wasn’t just touch she had “starved” for, she realized. Maybe it was affection, or the feeling that someone else cared deeply about her and found genuine joy in knowing she was happy. When James switched from caressing her face to running his hands through her long hair, Jessie let out a contented sigh and buried her face in the side of his neck.

In stories, the love interests always smelled like some poetic and improbable combination of scents. All Jessie could smell with her nose just above his jacket collar and his hair tickling her closed eyelids was a slight hint of sweat, too faint to be unpleasant, and something else, something sweet and distinctly floral…

She inhaled slowly. Roses. Of course. Either he used some sort of scented shampoo or the aroma of the flowers themselves lingered in his hair. Maybe both.

“Jess?”

She lifted her head to smile up at him. “I love you, James.”

He cuddled her close. “I love you too.”

They sat like that a while longer, until James broke the silence again.

“So,” he said, sounding suddenly shy. “Will you...will you be my—”

“Your girlfriend?” she asked with the same hesitancy, hardly daring to believe what was happening.

He squeezed her shoulder gently. “I was going to say ‘my sweetheart’, but sure.”

“Oh—”

Her throat was too tight to answer him. She nodded vigorously, hair bouncing behind her, and leaned in to kiss him but found that she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Instead she nuzzled his cheek with her nose and hugged him tighter and was finally able to whisper, right in his ear: “Yes.” She swallowed hard, not wanting to cry again. “Yes, I’ll be your sweetheart.”

If he had been standing up, she suspected, James probably would have lifted her off her feet and spun her around, so happy he looked—and then sounded, as he replied; “Then I’ll be yours.”

They had things to do, surely. Traps to set, plans to make. Meowth was already grumbling somewhere nearby about “love-boids wasting time”. But it could all wait, Jessie reasoned, if it meant she could stay in her sweetheart’s arms just a little longer.

#fanfic #fluff #Rocketshipping #Jessie x James #otp kiss #my fanfic

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hecksee · 4 years ago

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Stained Flowers

Hi this is angsty af but im struggling right now so imma project onto fictional characters

Sorry @lumosinlove I like making Leo suffer

this is my entry for the @hpbrokenhearts contest, i started out writing this when i was struggling, and tbh i still am, but it’s gotten a lot better.

Much thanks to the wonderful @iswearimnotanaestheticgirl for editing this monstrosity. You wrecked carnage on it, but it helped so much and I love this end result so much.

Thank you so much to @peggyrose19 and @marauderss-hp for looking this over and giving me suggestions!

This is probably inaccurate but I don’t know anything about hockey, and this is fanfic so who cares about the accuracy.

THIS COULD DEFINITELY BE TRIGGERING, PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF

TW suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, its got a TINY bit of spice sprinkled in (i would rate this teen probably, mature if i was being extra safe), major character death, stress, homophobia, one sided pining, hanakhai, vomiting, something thats sort of like a suicide note, and a shit load of angst

Read on A03 here

Leo knew he was screwed the moment he saw Finn O'Hara on the screen for the first time. He knew he was gonna fall hard. It didn't matter that they had never met or that Leo’s attraction was purely physical. He knew that he would want everything with Finn.

But then Leo started to fall deeper and deeper over time, time that was spent mostly spent obsessing over Finn. Only a few weeks after Leo saw Finn for the first time, it started.

Everybody knew about hanahaki. When someone felt unrequited love, a seed sprouted in their lungs. Nobody knew how or why the seed appeared but it was inevitable.

The victim would start coughing up flower petals, and if their feelings grew, the flowers would grow larger until the victim couldn’t breath because their lungs were filled with nothing but blossoms.

There were only three things someone with hanahaki could do. The main solution was to surgically remove the flowers but have all feelings of love vanish. And some said it was impossible to ever love another person.

So Leo knew exactly what was going on when he started coughing up small yellow petals a few weeks after he first saw Finn on screen.

But, over the next few months he learned to recognize the signs. The tingling in the back of his throat before he started coughing up the silky yellow petals. The itch in his left lung when people mentioned Finn O'Hara. The stabbing pain toward the left of his chest when his teammates threw around homophobic slurs and comments like beads at Marti Gras is nothing new, but now it's accompanied with a burning sensation in his lungs and bloody daffodils.

The daffodils. The fucking daffodils. He decided to look the meaning of the cheery flowers up one day. Unrequited love. After that Leo laughed humorlessly, and decided that hanahaki had a fucked up sense of humor.

Somehow, Leo made it through a full year while coughing up a mixture of blood and petals. He learned how to hide it, how to excuse himself from a situation, and how to choke the petals back down while playing. He made sure that nothing would impact his career, no matter how much longer he had left.

Leo feared that his time was almost up some days. On those days, he wondered Why was he alive? Why did only the left lung sting? Wouldn't it just be better to end it than to live through the constant pain?

He almost made it through a year keeping his hanahaki a secret.

Well, almost. His mom walked in on him cleaning the daffodils smeared with red off the floor, and he had promptly broken down in tears.

He had ended up telling her everything, how he was gay, how he hated himself for it, how he sometimes thought it would be better to just end it all instead, who he loved and why.

His mom had made him tell his coach, insisting it was for the best. There had been a major fight between the coach and him. Leo was yelling and crying but standing his ground about how he needed to play. How playing was the only thing he was living for, damn it. Leo had ended up winning, so he kept playing. And just like before, he kept the hanahaki a secret from everyone, especially his team.

But then, he found out why only his left lung stung. Logan Tremblay. The latest player that was drafted to the Lions. He was newly minted, fresh from Harvard university. Short, broad, brunet, green eyed rookie Tremz.

As soon as Logan stepped out onto the ice for the first time Leo felt that telltale sting. But it was on the right side of his chest for the first time. Fuck, I'm not having unrequited love from one person, but from two?!

His right lung had irises. Royalty, the Fleur-De-Lis, France. Leo didn’t know how those things related to Logan but he could take a guess. Logan was French Canadian born and raised, that had to mean something.

Leo’s life went on. Now he had double the work of fighting the flowers down. Two names instead of one. Leo could tell there was something between Fish and Logan. The intense stares they gave each other across the rink meant something. The tension between them one day had just disappeared. Leo saw something as Logan's hot temper reared up whenever Harzy got into a fight or got hurt.

The signs grew. Rainbow tape on their sticks, posting LGBTQ+ supporting messages on the team Instagram; small things you’d need to look out for, or know exactly what they meant to know the significance.

The real confirmation was when the official Lions Instagram posted the picture of Logan and Finn kissing at a pride parade, smudged bi flags painted on both of their cheeks.

The caption read “We are aware of the homophobia in the league, however, two of our players aren’t willing to hide their relationship from the public anymore. Both Tremz and Harzy have our full support.”

The moment he saw it, the feeling of petals started to itch in the back of Leo’s throat, but he gagged them back as he scrolled through the comments. They were filled with the expected bigotry and homophobia with the occasional biphobic comment. Yet scattered in were the kind comments, full of support, rays of sunshine on a raining day.

Leo started typing out a comment of his own, telling the happy couple how happy he was for them. But the lie was rancid in his head. The flowers Leo had been choking back came up in a wave of blood.

Before Leo got hanahaki, the few dreams he had were filled with a faceless man. One that would kiss him and fuck him, but now, now there were two men. And they had faces.

Finn O'Hara and Logan Tremblay haunted Leo's dreams in the best way possible, more nights than not. Sweet soft kisses, hands tangled in auburn or brown hair, gently worshiping the hard planes and angles that came from a lifelong dedication to hockey were commonplace in Leo's dreams.

In stark contrast, some nights were filled with sloppy, urgent kisses, nails scratching on backs, and a pure need for release. But the dreams would always end, and Leo was left with the burning pain of self loathing building up in his throat before the flowers would make themselves known.

During this dream, Leo had been on fire all night, and it was thanks to him that the team had been led to victory. So here he was with his boyfriends, celebrating.

Leo leaned up to give Finn a soft kiss before turning onto his side and beginning to kiss Logan's neck. Finn had started to ruin Leo and didn't stop until Leo had hit the peak of his pleasure.

However, the aftermath of Leo's pleasure was slowly but surely turning into pain. Suddenly the metallic tang of blood was clogging his throat and the familiar smooth petals were filling his mouth.

The flowers and blood were dripping out of his mouth, and seeping into the white bed sheets. Even worse was that Finn and Logan seemed unsurprised. no, they were almost happy. Their gentle murmurings of praise turned into cold raucous laughter. In between the harsh laughter they told him how stupid he was, how he was a nobody, how they would never love him.

As the flowers only got worse, coming up in waves and mingled with the tears that were rolling down his face, Finn and Logan vanished. Then he was falling, falling, falling.

He woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest, lungs gasping for air in between choking sobs; lying in a combination of petals and blood. His face was sticky with tears and warm, wet blood, and a few stray yellow and white-ish purple petals stuck to his skin. The only indicator that Leo's dream wasn't all bad was the stickiness in his underwear. But the worst part was that he was alone, stuck with only fantasies, once again.

The next day, Leo knew that practice would be bad. Even though yesterday his team was idolizing the Lions, they sure as hell wouldn’t be idolizing them right now. Practice was full of his teammates throwing around a myriad of slurs. The locker-room was even worse, where the coach wasn’t there to monitor their comments.

Leo fidgeted with his bracelet, uncomfortable with the comments that were flying around, with the flowers edging up his throat. He didn’t remember what happened next.

One minute Leo’s fidgeting with his bracelet, the next he’s yelling. Yelling about how people aren’t judged by their sexuality, how hell, maybe there even was a gay person in the room! To that he was obviously asked if he was the gay one, to which, he responded yes. Leo stormed out of the room to a soundtrack, suppressing the flowers fighting their way up his throat as soundtrack of cruel laughter and biting words rang around the room, just like the ones in his dream.

The next day he dreaded going to practice. He knows he won’t be welcome on the team anymore, so what’s the point of going?

Leo ended up just texting his old coach that he was resigning. His team broadcasted the fact that he’s gay on their Instagram. Now Leo’s the target of the myriad of hate that Finn and Leo faced. It made him sick to his stomach. Seconds later, he was puking into the toilet. No flowers this time, but still unpleasant.

He still walked with dragging steps to the rink and practiced, of course. He didn’t want to lose his skills when he attempts to go pro. Trying to ignore the fact that he knows no one will take him now.

Out of the blue, three days after Leo outed himself, his phone rings shrilly. Marlene McKinnon. The Lions announcer. Why was she calling him?

Marlene asked him to play for the Lions because he had great potential. Leo hesitated. Did she not know that he was gay? He pensively inquired about his sexuality, how would that impact his place on the team?

To his surprise, Marlene told him it wouldn’t influence anything. Leo was shocked, but in the happy way. Then she asked if he had any health conditions. Just like the thing about his sexuality, Leo hesitated. Eventually he nodded and said yes.

It’s hanahaki, he told her in a slow voice, but it doesn’t impact my playing.

Fucking lie.

Marlene was silent for a moment but then put him on hold with some shaky words. 5 minutes later, she agrees to let him play, on the condition that his hanahaki doesn’t get worse, and if it does, he needs to have them removed. Leo agreed, and suddenly, Leo was going professional.

Sure, Leo was worried about becoming a Lion; his subjects of affection were there and they were in a happy relationship. But over time, and many, many practices filled with words thrown at O’Hara and Tremblay, he had learned to choke back the petals.

After a few months, the day came where Leo was leaving. With many tears, and a lot of goodbyes, Leo left for Gryffindor. After a couple long flights, and a short taxi ride, Leo stepped out of the car to Hogwarts.

Inside the rink, he was greeted with the signature smell of a hockey arena, he couldn’t quite describe it, but it was pleasant, and reminded Leo of home.

In a blink, he was bombarded with maroon and gold, hugs and welcoming words. When he turned his head from the excitement, he saw them. Finn and Logan, standing back with Pascal Dumais, who he was going to move in with.

After meeting everyone and flipping out while Finn and Logan give him a hug while swallowing down the familiar liquid and petals that up, Leo was informed that he won’t be living with the Dumais’ after all.

“You’ll be living with Finn and Logan, I hope that’s alright?”

Leo quickly excuses himself to the bathroom to let the mixture of flowers, blood, and bile out.

But Leo ended up moving in with Fish and Tremz. However over the weeks, he formed a close bond with both Finn and Logan. Of course, he became closer with the rest of the team, Loops especially. Hell, Leo has a feeling that Loops knows what it feels like to love someone who will never love him back.

But after Sirius and Loops get together, Leo knew that he’s the only one who will never get the privilege of having requited love.

Leo was glad that he had managed to keep it a secret from the team. Well, there were some people he had to tell. After all, Remus was the team medic. Remus was keeping it a secret from the team and the public. But Remus didn’t know who was triggering Leo’s love. The only people who knew were Leo and his mother.

Each practice where the two of them do anything lovey dovey, Leo needs to be excused while he chokes back the flowers that are bringing themselves up his throat. But his goalie face hadn't been developed over happy things, so he shoved his feelings back and forced himself to remain calm, pretending to support their relationship; which he did, of course he did, but Leo wished more than anything that he was there with them. Leo wishes he was there in between them, wishes he was the one holding hands with them, and sharing sweet soft kisses with them.

Hell, more than once in the time when Leo was with the Lions he considered ending it all. The thoughts weren’t new, no, he’d been struggling with them since he had realized he was gay. But now, with the objects of Leo’s affection so close yet so far, he didn’t know if it would be worth living.

But then one day, about three years after the hanahaki had started, Leo woke up with agonizing pain in his chest, like someone was squeezing a palm around his heart. He thought back. The aching had worsened every time he interacted Finn and Logan. Now the flowers were coming up almost every hour of every day. The tingling feeling is now always at the back of his mind. As soon as Leo thought about Finn and Logan he felt flowers coming up.

The flowers are accompanied with a burning pain instead of a small stab. All of the flowers are full blossoms, a few with stems and leaves. They’d be perfect and prim, beautiful, if they weren’t coated in enough blood to look like a murder scene.

This was it; this was one of his last days, if not his last.

With slow robotic steps, Leo stands up, taking some deep breaths. He fished a pen and a notebook from his cabinet, and started to write four letters.

The words to his family tell them how sorry he was at how bad he was at hiding his worsening hanahaki, how much he loves them, and how he wishes he could have said goodbye in person.

“I’m sorry for causing you pain.”

In the letter towards the team he apologized for hiding his disease and explained how thankful he was to be a part of his dream team. He told them how different the Lions were to his old teams, how they were a family and how they loved each other no matter what, regardless of their differences.

“Thank you for being like a family to me.”

In the one addressed to Logan and Finn, Leo explained how they were the subjects of his attraction, how much they influenced his life coming out by choice, consequences be damned. Through blood, sweat, tears and flowers, he found himself rattling on and on about how much he loved them, how he fell in love with them, and how much he valued the friendship they had; even if it was just friendship. Leo’s hand lingered as he thought about it. Would this letter cause the two of them to blame themselves? Should he really write it?

No. He had to. Leo added a note telling them not to. It wasn’t their fault, it was his choice.

He brushed away the crimson mess. With droplets of blood staining his fingers, Leo starts on the final and most formal letter.

Leo wrote vaguely in this letter. He told that he did have hanahaki, and how he had dealt with it for years before he joined the Lions. He publicly commends the Lions for being so accepting of him, even though he had hanahaki and he was gay. Finally, he thanked his fans for staying with him through it all.

Then, with all the letters finished, Leo sealed them in envelopes and wrote to whom they are addressed to. Gingerly, Leo placed them on his nightstand and prepared for his final practice.

During practice Leo told everyone how much he appreciates them, which wasn’t too unusual, so nobody took much notice. Otherwise, practice was uneventful. Leo blocked some passes as they prepped for their game with Hufflepuff next week.

Leo was coughing almost nonstop during practice but he chokes back the blood, bile, and flowers. He allowed himself to think that this is the last time he’d have to push it down. The aching pain in his chest doesn’t subside, if anything it only grew worse the longer practice goes on.

Leo walked into the locker-room, preparing to take a shower and stretch before heading home when the aching in his chest grew. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears and the world around him blurred. He swayed, unsteady on his feet, trying not to cry or scream. His breaths were labored, he was becoming lightheaded and his heart was pounding in his chest. The pain became too much to bear and Leo’s legs failed on him.

The team rushes over with concerned expressions on their faces. On his knees, the flowers, stems, and leaves start to come up, splattering all over the cold ground, no matter what Leo does to try and keep them back. The team became frenzied, calling for Remus.

It was too late. Leo knew that this was his end.

Once, when Leo was little, he asked his grandmother why people didn't just get the flowers removed. She smiled at him sadly and told him that, there might be a person you loved so much you couldn't bear the idea of not loving them. Even if you died for it.

At the time, he brushed it off as stupid but now, now as tears sqeezed through his blurry vision and the feeling of the cold tile floor disappears, he understands exactly what she meant.

The last thought that went through his mind, before the petals, flowers, and blood came up for the last time, was of his two loves. In an instant, all of his fantasies of Finn and Logan melted into the reality of their friendship and flew past his eyes. With one last satisfied smile, Leo closed his eyes. His grandma was right.

Some love really was worth dying for.

Just a quick reminder, this is my entry for @hpbrokenhearts so if you liked this fic or it made you cry/broke your heart, please put a broken heart in the comments, either in emoji form or not! Thank you so much for reading!!!

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dawningofdrag · 3 years ago

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Hello 💙

All of your wips sound so good, I need to know everything now, but can we start with "I kissed someone, it wasn't you", please? That sounds like some gorgeous angst 👀

thank you so much for asking my frey!! and yes, it is a hurt no comfort cc rosénali fic inspired by a song by dodie. the idea came to me when rosé and mik started hanging out much more often. tbh im so glad you asked about this because i dont think ill ever finish it, but i still do love the concept of it!

rosé and denali started dating on the show, and they really had a connection, but it never became anything serious despite denali really wanting it to. rosé is really bad at relationships, apparently. it leaves denali heartbroken and it really messes with him because he just grew so attached to rosé. he tries to drown it in hookups and clubs but nothing ever comes of it.

but eventually nali moves on. he gets better, he heals! but all of that progress comes crumbling down the second he flies back to la to shoot promo for the season, and he's forced to relive the relationship he built with rosé. it hurts more seeing mik and rosé act all lovey dovey (i posted about this scene in a previous six sentence sunday!), the same exact way him and rosé did when they were shooting the season.

the flow goes back and forth between scenes of denali processing the breakup, rosénali building their relationship, denali getting better, until it ends in denali back in square one. its really supposed to be angsty and painful, but you know how i love jumping between scenes and places in time in fics!!

here have some of the parts ive already worked on!! (ok i put them under read more bc its pretty long!! sorry)

“I wish I could’ve given you that role, but I couldn’t.” Rosé’s words are soft, mirroring the gentle touch of the older’s fingers that wrap around his waist. It’s hard for Denali to focus when he feels those kind hands grip his side a little tighter.

“Oh don’t say that.” He chuckles, careful not to smudge the dark lipstick he’s reapplying. He catches a glimpse of the cameras turning to point towards them, and Denali wishes it was just them in this room.

Rosé sighs, body inching closer to his. “I just- you’re the closest person I have right now and I wanted to give it to you, but we kinda have to compete.”

“I know, I know.” Denali rolls his eyes as he finally turns to face the blonde, dismissing the attempted apology. “Please don’t feel bad, you killed it. I don’t want to take that away from you.”

Hands that were previously resting on Denali’s hips move upwards as Rosé’s gentle touch moves up to caress his bare arms. Rosé’s hands are warm, comforting. Denali feels at peace when he touches him like this.

“God, you are so nice to me.” Rosé smiles. “I don’t think I deserve to have you sometimes.”

“Oh, so I’m yours now?” Denali giggles, placing the lipstick down to wrap his arms around the older’s shoulders. The blonde’s words catch him off guard, but he knew this conversation was inevitable. Tip-toeing around the state of their relationship was gonna get tiring eventually, and Denali is happy he’s not the only one ready to give in.

It’s playful, the stare Rosie’s giving to him. There’s a hint of a smile as the blonde leans in closer. “I mean, if you wanna be.”

Denali pecks him on the lips. “Yeah,” His words come out barely above a whisper, but the smile on his face already speaks a thousand words. “I wanna be.”

“He never loved me-“ Denali cries, throat sore from the uncountable shots of straight liquor he’s downed in the past hour. “Not even a little bit!”

It hurts to scream, throat itching at the lack of care, but all he can think about is how he’s never felt this kind of pain before. How it’s broken him down to a pathetic version of himself that’s nothing more than broken pieces stuck together with tape that can barely cling onto anything. It’s embarrassing how he's affected him so intensely.

The music in this club is so fucking loud, but it’s not enough to stop his mind from thinking about anyone else. His heart still can't feel anything besides how it aches for someone who isn’t there. Denali is a mess as he’s dragged to the side of the dance floor by Kahmora.

“Nali, please-“ He sighs. Kahmora is usually the last person to be compelled to stop his friend’s reckless behavior, but even in his drunken haze Denali can see how frustrated Kahmora is from the way he’s acting.

“You’re making a scene.”

#asks #freykitten #thank u frey my love for asking!#tag game #my writing

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a-hundred-jewels · 3 years ago

Text

what, you egg? - chapter 1

Ao3

Fandom: The Penderwicks Series - Jeanne Birdsall

Words: 1408

Tags: Transgender, Coming of Age, (i guess??), Vingettes, Series of Moments, kind of in a similar vein to "Sparkle and Fade", which is that really good penderwicks fic about skye by spark writer on ff.net, the title is a multilayered joke that im very proud of, i see all you trans shakespeare enthusiasts and i love you

Summary:

Rosalind Penderwick has known that she is a girl for as long as she can remember. It's just the rest of the world that needs to catch up.

Or: The childhood of Rosalind Penderwick told in a series of vingettes and short stories as she navigates choosing her name, dealing with her mother's death, and being true to herself.

Fic under the cut (or on Ao3)

chapter 1: names and pizza

The notes were scratchy, drifting through the walkman on the grass. Pressing the headphones closer to her small ears, Leonarda--

“Nope.” She sat up abruptly, and the headphones fell onto the grass. “Nope, nope, nope.”

“Which one was that?” Her sister, Skye, with blond hair and long, lanky limbs, sat up next to her, grass stains smudged on her cheek like face paint.

“Leonarda.”

“Oh. That’s one of the ones Jane picked, right?”

“Yeah.” She flopped back down to the grass and sighed.

“I can tell her.” Skye hugged her knees to her chest. She was six, but tall for her age, almost as tall as her older sister.

“Thanks.” It wasn’t that Leonarda wasn’t a good name. It just wasn’t right. Jane would understand.

Headphones in again, Fleetwood Mac drifted into the girl’s ears and she shut her eyes.

___

“Jane?” On hurried footsteps, the girl ran down the stairs. “Jane, what’s that smell?” No answer. She sped down the hall to the kitchen.

Jane was sitting cross legged on the kitchen table with her nose buried in a book, apparently oblivious to the awful smell surrounding her. She looked up at the sound of feet. “What about Lucy Pevensie?” she said, her eyes shiny like they were still seeing the sparkling snow of Narnia, instead of her older sister standing at the kitchen door.

“What? No, I don’t think I can name myself Lucy Pevensie. Jane, what happened to the pizza? And where’s Skye?”

“What about Susan Pevensie?”

“Jane!” Jane sighed and closed her book with small hands. Patiently, as though she was being asked a very silly question, she said, “Daddy is on the phone because Mommy called from the hospital.”

“Yes, I know that part. You and Skye were supposed to finish making the pizza and wait for Daddy to put it in the oven. Where’s Skye?”

“She’s washing the cheese off her soccer keets.” Jane smoothed her purple skirt over her lap and reached for her book again, but her sister stopped her.

“Jane, why is the oven on at four-hundred degrees--oh my god!” She turned the oven off and yanked its door open. Smoke poured out, and the smoke alarm shrieked in protest. Behind her, Jane started to cry, partly out of her fear of the smoke alarm and partly, the girl suspected, from the shame of being caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. Before anything else could be done, Skye ran in from the bathroom.

“I’m coming Jane! Oh god, please don’t cry! Uh, I can turn the thingy off! Whatever you do, just don’t get--oh.” Skye stopped in her tracks at the sight of her oldest sister. In her arms, Skye was carrying sopping wet soccer cleats and there was guilt written all over her face.

“Girls? What’s going on?” Their father entered the kitchen.

It was one of their father’s greatest features, the sisters thought, that upon entering a putrid-smelling kitchen with the smoke alarm blaring, Jane crying on the table, Skye hugging mysteriously wet soccer cleats to her chest, and the oldest sister standing at a smoking oven, that he knew exactly what to do. In the next couple of minutes, Skye’s cleats were laid across a towel on a radiator and Jane brought to the living room and given some cheese sticks. The father pulled the burning mess out of the oven, with his eldest two daughters watching intently.

“We thought it would just cook, Daddy,” Skye said, biting her fingernails. “We figured that we’ve seen you and Mommy do it so many times that we’d know what to do.”

“I know, honey. Just don’t use the oven again without me around.”

“Or Mommy, right?” Skye looked up at her father.

“Of course,” their father said, his face unreadable. “I know my girls are all very smart, but the oven gets so hot and I don’t want any of you to get burned, or for, uh, this to happen.”

“Okay,” Skye nodded. Her older sister was still looking at the charred pizza on the stove, though.

“I don’t understand why it smelled so bad,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“The smell. We’ve burnt pizza before, when we’re cooking with Mommy, and I don’t think it’s ever smelled that bad.”

Their father frowned. “Good observation, my dear. Skye, what cheese did you use?”

Skye’s small fae scrunched up as she thought. “I don’t know,” she said. “Jane did the cheese.”

Her sister sighed and went through to the living room, where Jane was peeling her string cheese and draping it across her book. She didn’t look up when her sister walked in but said, in a sing-songy voice, “Hello, Susan Pevensie!”

“Not Susan Pevensie, and are you actually going to eat any of that?”

“Maybe,” Jane said. She dropped a strand in her mouth.

Her sister sighed. “Jane, Skye says you put the cheese on the pizza.”

“Uh huh. I did the cheese and Skye did the sauce.” Jane began dropping the rest of her cheese strings into her mouth.

“What kind of cheese did you use?”

“The tiny cheese.”

“The grated cheese in the blue bag that Daddy left on the table for you?”

Jane shook her head. “I don’t like the tiny cheese in the blue bag. I got the red bag out of the fridge.”

Her sister frowned. “We don’t have any more of the red bag. Daddy and I finished it yesterday when we made macaroni.”

“It was really far back.”

The girl bit the inside of her cheek. “Um, Jane, what did the cheese look like?”

Jane thought hard, then swallowed her cheese strips and proceeded to peel more. “Tiny,” she said.

“Was it a funny color?” The girl tried to keep the desperation out of her voice.

“It was speckly.”

The girl sighed. “Jane, why did you use speckly cheese?”

Jane’s lower lip began to wobble. “I thought it would be like how big cheese with holes in it is better than big cheese without holes in it. Tiny cheese in the red bag is the best kind, but speckled tiny cheese in the red bag is even better!” Little tears were rolling down Jane’s cheeks and she started to chew on her hair.

Her sister took her hand and led her into the kitchen to see their father peeling an apple into a long spiral.

“Daddy I put the speckled cheese in the red bag onto the pizza and now everything smells icky!” Jane wailed, running for the comfort of her father. He picked her up and held her close to his chest, her small arms wrapped tight around his neck as she cried into his shoulder.

“Daughter of mine, could you open the windows?” Mr. Penderwick laid his hand on the girls head, her messy curls poking up between his fingers. That’s what he’d taken to calling her -- “daughter of mine.” He’d smiled when she told him that she didn’t have a name yet, but she didn’t want to use her old one, and said that he was sure whatever she thought of would be perfect. He’d also lent her the book of baby names that he and her mother had used to name her and her sisters, years and years ago. The girl treasured it -- but only the first half, which she looked through whenever she felt brave enough. She never looked at the boy’s names, though, not wanting to see her old name -- her first name -- circled in black pen by her mother from all those years ago. And anyway, there were plenty of beautiful names in the girls section. The boy’s section didn’t need to matter.

She opened the kitchen window and leaned as far out as she could, enjoying the cool breeze on her face, and a smell other than burnt, moldy cheese.

In the end, the Penderwicks did have pizza that night. Soon after disposing of the mess Skye and Jane had tried to make, Mr. Penderwick ordered from Antonio’s pizza, letting Skye do the talking the way she liked to.

By the time the order came (one large cheese pizza and one medium pepper and mushroom pizza), the nights events were almost forgotten. The girl sat down at the kitchen table next to Jane and took the blue plate her father passed her with two pieces of cheese pizza on it.

Despite everything, it was a happy evening on Gardam street.

#cameron writes #the penderwicks #penderwicks #rosalind penderwick

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another-stark-sub · 4 years ago

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Vanilla sex with cock warming and sweets? :) Love your writing

Sweetness? Oh some tooth rotting fluffy smut, i love that. 18+ content ahead with some cockwarming!

Tony and you havent had sex. Its crazy, because everyone assumes you had. Its Tony Stark. This man, at a time, was seen going home with a different person twice a day.

And you, his first long-time girlfriend, most assumed you guys had sex either the first night or at least within the first month of dating.

But nope. Its been five months since you were officially together and almost two years of knowing each other, and no sex

Its not like you havent tried! One of you wasnt ready for sex yet. And heavy makeouts are just interrupted sometimes, and bu five months, it just hadnt happened.

And every time you tried, he would push you away or make an excuse.

"I'm sorry, I just have a lot on my mind tonight. With the whole... you know, thing and all."

"I just got out of the lab, honey. I am not making out with you with grease on my fingers."

"Would love to, but I just got an amazing idea. I need to write it down before it escapes."

... maybe it was you. Maybe he just didnt find you sexy.

And you thought, fuck that. You could make yourself look at least somewhat similar to the women he used to take home!

Makeup that slimmed down your cheeks, overly sexy lingerie you only see in pornos, high heels you def could not walk in

When he saw you in all of that, he would have to feel something!

So you waited for him on your bed, posed like something out of a magazine. It was uncomfortable and the lingerie was itchy, and you werent a big fan.

But if your boyfriend could finally look at you as sexy, maybe it was worth it.

Before you could doubt your plans even more, he had arrived.

The silence was so fucking dreadful.

"Hi," you said.

Tony cleared his throat. "Hi, honey. Whats this?"

You shrugged. "Just something I put on." You tried to smile. "Like it?"

He hesitated. He fucking hesitated, and shame immediately swallowed you whole. He didnt like it.

"Hey, no, babe." He sat on the bed and higged you close. "No, it's ok."

"You don't like it." It was harder to breathe, and it took you a second to realize you were crying. "I tried very hard."

"Hey, look at me."

You sniffed and looked up at him.

He smiled and wiped your tears. "I love you. And I think you look hot in anything."

"Just not this?"

"I could." He laughed. "This just isnt you. I mean, you look uncomfortable." He brushed your hair back. "You remember yesterday, when you wore the cute little sundress?"

You nodded. "I love that dress."

"That was fucking sexy!" Tony smiled. "You were so happy and confident. You were you. This" -he motioned to your ensemble- "it isnt even your favorite color."

You laughed. "These high are pinching my toes.

"Fuck the heels." He leaned over to pull them off your feet.

You snuggled into his chest and asked, "Tony, why havent you... you know?"

He sighed. "Sex, right?"

You nodded. "I thought you just didn't find me sexy."

"Definitely not it." He took a deep breath. "I was scared. Probably something about sex leads to leaving which leads to nothing. Something about not wanting that to happen with us."

You traced patterns on his hands. "I wouldnt do that."

"I know. I get in my own head sometimes too."

"Then, how bout this?" You looked at him and smiled. "We just tell each other next time. Instead of hiding our feelings?"

Your boyfriend hummed. Then, he kissed you. "I like that idea very much."

"Good." You kissed him and whispered againts his lips, "Then can I be honest to you right now?"

"Yes?"

"I really really hate my makeup. Its all caked all over my face and neck."

He laughed. "Ok, but i have something to tell you, too." Tony kissed you again. "I really really wanna fuck you into the bed."

You laughed. "Really?"

"Yeah, really." He kissed your nose. "Wait here. I'll be back in a second."

He leapt off the ned and into the bathroom, leaving you giggling. He came back with makeup remover and with only his underwear. The too tight briefs that he hated.

You sputtered out laughing. "What are you doing?"

"It's only fair." Tony tpok his place next to you and started by removing your false lashes. You kept making silly faces at him.

"Stop that."

You only laughed. "I love you."

"Love you, too." He tried wiping away your eye makeup. It only smudged it. "You raccoon."

The two of you laughed. He said something about inventing a gentler and more effective makeup remover. You said something about your favorite brands. He said something about the science behind it all.

All the while, the two of you snuck in kisses on the cheek, neck, lips.

And when all the makeup was off, Tony couldnt help but smile and stare. "You're so beautiful."

You teased, "Says People's Sexiest Man of 2012."

"Mm, and how could be more deserving of him than the most beaufiful woman to ever live." He leaned in close, and when his lips touched yours, you fully relaxed against him and let him lead you.

Tony kissed you hard so that you could comfortably lay back on the bed. He settled between your legs, and before he went any further, he asked, "Mind if I take off that uncomfortable bra?"

"Mind? Please do."

He laughed and as he kissed you, he wasted no time in taking it off. His hands hesitated when they reached your underwear, but you put your hands over his and helped him take it off.

You tugged on his briefs, a question, and he answered by saying, "Please."

You hurriedly took if off, and when he ground his bare hips againts your, both of you moaned.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked.

You looked down, and the only thing that left your mouth was, "Oh god."

Tony raised his eyebrow and looked to where you were looking at. He laughed. "Sweetheart, thats just my cock. Not god."

You smacked his chest. "Fuck you."

"Thats the point, sweetheart."

Before you could say anything, he kissed you, making you yelp. Still you kissed back, and when his fingers started rubbing your clit, you gasped and looked down.

All you could see was your man smiling like he had won the lottery. "That's more like it." He stroked your cheek, a distraction to him shoving two fingers into your cunt.

You yelped again and bucked against his hand. It felt so good, and he kept curling his fingers to rub your g spot over and over.

"You look so beautiful when youre being fingerfucked, honey." He kissed your cheek, and you groaned. You pulled him down so you could kiss him properly.

And when you pulled away, you demanded, "Fuck me."

Tony smiled. "Cant say no to that, huh?" He lined himself up, and before he slid home, he kissed your forehead. "I love you."

You laughed. "I love y-Ou! Oh god. Tony, fuck."

He laughed. "Now that was the best thing I've ever heard."

He thrusted in and out, and the two of you became a moaning mess. Writhing in pleasure and lost in each others lips.

It didnt take long for him to find the right angle to fuck you, and after that, every thrust forced a whine from your lips, and it gave both of you a new high that only inched you closer to orgasm

And when you came and squeezed Tony's cock, he came too.

Even as the two of you started to come down from your highs, you kept rutting into each other, milking every bit of pleasure you could.

For a few amazing moments, it was just you and him.

Suddenly, Tony hugged you close and flipped you over so you were on top.

"Oh!"

He laughed. "I just dont wanna crush you."

You smiled. "Thank you. It was very considerate of you." You kissed him and snuggled into him. "Can we stay here forever?"

Tony hummed and stroked your hair. "You ok with me keeping my cock in you?"

You nodded. "I like feeling this close to you." You wiggled your hips, causing Tony to groan. You sighed. "I like feeling full."

"Good." He wrapped his arms around you. "Cause Im not letting you go."

#smutty saturday #tony stark x reader #tony stark smut #tony stark headcanons #tony stark imagine #mcu smut #mcu headcanons #mcu x reader #mcu imagine

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 5 years ago

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this is so strange to ask, but could you write something about Mando and the reader and about their age gap (she’s 20/22 - that’s because technically he’s 33/34 - i don’t remember well)? choose you if something fluff or anything else, obviously just if u have free time!! ☀️

This is not strange at all man, and yes I think that’s about right. Or at least it sounds right to me.

I decided to go for fluffy fluff with a smudge of angst and mentions of smut on this one since I’ve been writing a lot of smut lately, buuuuut if you all would like a smutty part two I would be more than happy to oblige as soon as I can!

This is also unedited and short I apologize.

You hate this.

Din—you were there when Moss Gideon called him by his true name—is sitting with the Child in the hull, rolling that metal ball towards him on the floor, gently so that the Child has a chance to grab it. When the baby giggles, you grin and there’s a soft noise that escapes through the vocoder. It makes your heart swell with a longing ache.

When you first met Din, you never thought in a million galaxies that it would go this far. That one job would lead to another with your skills, and eventually you would become the Child’s caretaker. That slowly, as you became more familiar, the Mandalorian started to creep into your every daydream. It soon escalated into your every thought, your every breath, and the butterflies in your stomach that flutter in a frenzy when you were around him; the very same ones that still reside within the confines of nervous giddiness.

At first, you chalked it up to a stupid crush. You are young, early twenties, and he’s a man; just in his early thirties, and illuminating every bit of swagger and enigma that was just sexy and appealing to you. And Din is nothing but good towards you, even stoic and ever so distant in his way. He’s kind when he’s not bounty hunting, he’s soft when it’s just the three of you on the Razor Crest—with the Child more than you, obviously, but he never once has asked you to leave the room if you sit from afar and watch. It’s something that you could easily get over and eventually move on from. You said this to yourself every day and night when your thoughts drifted to that Din Djarin cloud of yours, and occasionally—if the need was too much—you’d stick your hand down your pants and think of his cock inside you as you came.

Then he almost died. That broke you, made you realize that it was all more than just a crush; somewhere along the lines, you fell in love with him. Hard. Life is funny like that.

But he just doesn’t feel the same about you and you will never be the to make him laugh like that and no doubt smile. You will never even have a chance of feeling a sliver of his bare skin against yours, or the brush of his lips. You will never hear any adoring words of affection from him that’ll turn you into a puddle of lovey gooiness. It’s something you have to endure and suffer through.

“Hey.”

You blink through your daydream, realizing that Din—Mando, you have to remember to call him; Din is too… personal and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable—has been calling your name.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Just… thinking.”

“Yeah.” The modulator crackles. “Are you hungry?”

As much as it sounds appealing to you, you're in too much stress right now to put in the effort to eat, so you shake your head no and watch as he sighs and stands up. He stands in place and wobbles with one foot poised in one direction and the other in yours. It’s like he’s contemplating something and that brings your undivided attention.

“Did I—did I do something?” He asks with uncertainty.

You blink dumbly at him. “W-what do you mean?” You curse yourself for how weak you sound.

“I—” He stops, puts his head down for a moment, then whips it back up to you and clenches his fist. “I mean did I do something to make you… distant?”

Distant? Oh. Oh. You thought you were really good at concealing your emotions, you really did. But you’re not as good as you like to imagine and now the jig is up. You’re going to have to tell him, because he’s, well he’s the Mandalorian; the one you’ve been partners with for a while, so he knows when you’re lying and you just—you need to tell him. It’s only fair to the both of you.

You wring your hands nervously in your lap and chew on your bottom lip. Your heart is pounding against your chest rather uncomfortably that spreads to the rest of your body and makes your leg start to bounce with the increasing anxiety.

C’mon. This is now or never.

“Mando I’m—I’m in love with you.” It practically comes out a whimper, and it’s too fucking quiet but you take a deep breath and will yourself to keep going. “And I know that that probably makes you uncomfortable, and that you don’t feel the same way at all. So I’ll… you can drop me off at the next stop. I’ll be okay.”

As painful as it was saying, you can’t deny how good it feels letting it all out. Din—Mando—appears to be in shock. His whole body is stiff, and you’re sure if you poked him he would sway under the miniscule pressure. Your stomach is in knots, awaiting his response to your confession with tears burning in the back of your eyes. But you will not cry, not here and not now.

“You think—” He chuckles, deep but without humor. “And here I was sitting here thinking that you didn’t like me.”

Wait. What? Is this real?

A gust of air escapes you with an airy laugh. “Wha—wow.” You don’t know what else to say. It’s like your brain is short circuiting, blank and unyielding in its chaos.

“Yeah.” He sighs and takes tentative steps towards you until he plops himself down next to you, but doesn’t face you; he stares ahead at the Child. It’s quiet for a little, sans the gurgles and babbles, and you take this moment of silence to collect your thoughts.

“Why did you think that I didn’t like you?” You finally whisper.

The helmet tilts down. “Because… because you’re so young.” He whispers. “And I was trying to spare you from making you uncomfortable or—or hating me. And you still—” He stops.

You nod your head eagerly and encourage him with a small smile. You need to know.

“And you still call me Mando.” He relents. “I know that sounds stupid, and I know that you’re just being respectful and I appreciate that. But I don’t know, the doubt started to creep in when you didn’t ask your silly little questions like you always do, especially about my name.”

This is all just… ridiculous. You start to giggle, and you can’t stop even when the visor stares quizzically at you and you feel him tense even more beside you.

“I-I’m sorry it’s just,” you manage to croak. “It’s just this whole time, and our own insecurities were holding us back.”

It takes a minute, but eventually you hear that sweet, raspy and robotic chuckle filter through the helmet. Your heart swells and your smile is wide to the point of discomfort that you can’t stop.

“And with the age thing,” you start. “I don’t care about that. I’m an adult and you’re an adult. Just because your bones crack when you stand and you groan when you have to bend down does not mean I love you any less.”

You grin at the end and expect him to argue back, or to laugh with you.

“...Can I kiss you?”

Maker. Maker this is really happening.

You lick your lips and nod, not fully trusting your voice.

“Close your eyes.” It comes out soft, almost a whisper.

You look towards the Child, who must have fallen asleep on the blanket Mando—Din, you can call him Din now—laid out as they played, and close your eyes. The anticipation is killing you already and it’s only been a second, but you’ve been waiting so long for this and it’s finally within your grasp. There’s a loud hiss that makes you slightly jump.

Then there’s a soft wisp against your lips; that small ghost of air that flows from his mouth onto your awaiting kiss, teasing you. You keep your eyes tightly shut as he palms your cheeks in his hands—bare and rough but soft against and you wonder just when he took those gloves off—and he presses his lips against yours.

At first it’s soft, just a cautious press. It’s still enough to take your breath away, to have to fight back the urge to keen into him and throw yourself onto him. Then he finally, finally, kisses you harder. You immediately gasp and he clumsily fits his mouth against yours, trying to move in perfect sync. You follow his lips, losing yourself to the language of this kiss; the first of the many that are to come, the one that’s a little unsure but absolutely reventing in the simplicity of it, begging for more and more. When you trail the tip of your tongue against his plump lip, you swallow his moan and explore the divine taste of him. Din responds just as eagerly and your body is on fire, and he’s the cooling water and the smoldering flame at the same time, bringing you into his warmth and completely enveloping you into… into his everything.

You whine when he pulls away for air, and he indulges you into a few more pecks before he completely pulls away. It feels cold but your swollen lips thump with an untainted love that’ll keep you sated; at least for a little while.

Tags: @scarlett-berserker, @justlovetoreadfics, @lil-baby27, @mando-vibes, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch, @im-the-music-whore, @certifiedhunter, @softpedropascal, @domino-oh-damn, @okaydacre, @lemongrove, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd, @elusive-ivory, @dizzydazed, @bluejeancntrygrl, @dadzawas-eyebags, @moonstruck-witchy @our-mrlangdon, @parody-the-emi, @evalynanne, @purplewaterbird, @vikingqueen28, @tedpicklez, @blunt-cake-yes, @agoldin, @lustriix, @readsalot73, @kateb013, @eupphoriaaa, @imalovernotahater, @everything-lost-and-unsaid, @dlmafa1, @hoodedbirdie, @drunkenliterary, @fioccodineveautunnale, @fangirlfree, @mrsparknuts, @amarvelousmandalorian, @ironheart-hanako, @bunniotomia, @thisisthe-way, @rosadorando, @meganoid1997, @adikaofmandalore, @cahooter, @charliepeaceout, @dreamgirl-67, @phoenixhalliwell, @acrylics-and-sunshine, @sunkissed-winter, @oloreaa, @equalstrashflavoredtrash

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #pedro pascal #star wars #the mandalorian imagines #requests

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mischiefandi · 4 years ago

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A Shitty Love Song (Part 2) - Stiles Stilinski

Altered State Of Mind

A/N: hi guys!! im super happy im posting part 2 of this series :)) I really hope you like it and once again, huge thank u to @duskholland for all your help <33

Summary: Y/N is a 17 year old girl who struggles in an epic battle against herself. Whether it is amor’s icy grasp or life’s unexpected course that forces her to finally open up, only one thing is certain. The truth cannot be long hidden.

Warnings: panic attack, mentions of underage drinking, swearing

Word Count: 5,2K

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader (Y/N)

Series Masterlist

(picture is not mine -> credits to @ elevantarts on unsplash)

A blaring sound resonated in Y/N’s ears and she groaned, her fingers curling around the blanket she lay beneath. A throbbing sensation in her head forced her to pry her eyes open, sunlight seeping through the gaps in her eyelids.

Reaching up to rub her eyes, Y/N tried to sit up, the throbs against her forehead staggeringly more painful. When her eyes finally accustomed themselves to the light, Y/N glanced around, looking for the source of the insufferable noise. The blaring seemed to come from far away and nearby at the same time; Y/N was simply too tired to make any sense.

“Oh my god, my head,” she moaned, falling back against the soft pillow with a grunt.

“Would someone please shut that off,” a voice mumbled from underneath a heap of pillows and messed up sheets.

“Y/N, it’s your phone,” another voice groaned.

Passing a shaking hand over her face, Y/N forced herself to fully open her eyes and focused on the sound of the alarm, still shrieking in sync with her god awful headache. Reaching over her head, she grabbed her phone and put it on silent, thanking the universe for the sudden alleviating silence.

“Well last night was-“

“-crazy.”

Y/N shot a glance at Lydia’s bed where the strawberry blonde was propped up against her pillows, wiping off the smudged mascara beneath her big green eyes.

“I can’t even focus right now. What happened last night?” she asked, rubbing her forehead.

“You don’t remember?”

“I mean, bits and pieces, why?”

Allison and Lydia exchanged a look.

“Uh, Y/N you went wild yesterday.”

“I did?” asked Y/N, worry seeping through her oily pores.

“We had to get a cab home cause neither one of us was fit to drive, and…you definitely threw up in the cab.”

Y/N groaned, a hand flying up to her forehead. “That explains the taste in my mouth.” She thought to herself.

“Yea, you got pretty drunk. Thank god, Stiles and Scott were there or you’d have passed out right on the dancefloor.”

“Wait, they were there?”

Allison sent Y/N a confused look, biting her lip.

“Well yeah, they got there about thirty minutes after we did. Did you not hang out with them at all?” she asked.

A sudden flash of colour appeared in Y/N’s head, the feeling of skin against skin, lips hungrily claiming each other, the smell of sweat and leather. She gasped, a hand reaching up to cover her mouth. Jumping up to her feet in a burst, ignoring the violent throb in her head, she rushed over to the mirror and turned her neck towards the right, her eyes widening at her sorry reflection.

“Are those-“

“Hickeys?” exclaimed Allison, leaping off of her mattress and onto the floor.

“Oh my god…”

“No way! Who are those from?” inquired Lydia, shock painted across her face.

“I’m not sure…” answered Y/N, her voice but a quiet murmur, her eyes still fixated on the deep purple marks scattered across her neckline.

In the back of her head, amber eyes bored into hers, and she couldn’t help but notice the dark pit forming in her stomach.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Y/N stepped out of her bath, all of the dried up paint and sweat cleansed from her body. Stepping up to her bathroom mirror, she wiped the hot steam off the glass, the purple stains on her neck still very visible. She sighed, her fingers lightly tracing the mark by her collarbone, her mind elsewhere. She was at a loss.

Had it been him? Had it been Stiles? Maybe she had him confused with someone else, maybe she really had shared this moment with Jeremy. Maybe.

Y/N’s frown deepened. All that was left from that moment on the dancefloor was these purple love bites and blurriness. So much blurriness. Hundreds of questions and voices overlapped in Y/N’s head.

“What does this mean? Was it really him? What’s next?” She shook her head anxiously, quietly tapping against the steam covered sink.

Grabbing her phone with shaking fingers, Y/N typed in a message and sent it to the person she had had stuck in her brain all day long.

Y/N: did u ever show up at the rave?

Y/N: cause my drunk ass can’t remember a thing :/

Minutes seemed to last longer than hours as she waited by her phone. She sat impatiently on her bed, furiously tearing off the tips of her fingernails, occasionally drawing out a tiny spot of blood accompanied by a soft hiss. Finally, the buzzing sound of her phone snapped her back to reality and she unlocked it in a flash.

Stiles: yea I stopped by

Y/N stared down at her phone screen, puzzled.

Y/N: did you have fun?

A few minutes passed before his short answer came.

Stiles: yea it was alright

Stiles: I was just glad to get out of the rain

Y/N: the rain?

Stiles: yea it was raining when Scott and I got there

Y/N’s fingers trembled as she started typing in a new message, her hands abruptly pausing when her phone buzzed again.

(Y/N: did we hang out at all last night?)

Stiles: my dad’s asking me to help him out with dinner

Stiles: gotta go

Deleting her previous and thankfully unsent text, Y/N quickly typed in something else, her heart almost leaping out of her chest.

Y/N: oh okay, np

Y/N’s wet hair cascaded down her shoulder as she removed the towel from her head, letting her body gently plop down onto her bed.

Had she truly imagined it all? Something was off, but somehow, she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. The girl braided her damp hair and slipped under her toasty covers. Exhaustion soon took over her body and pushed her into a deep slumber, her dreamless sleep a tranquil break from her precipitating thoughts.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Amor loves to have one’s undivided attention. It slips through the thinnest of cracks and likes to hide behind your thoughts, carefully creeping around your mind, giggling at your confusion. Without even knowing it, you consume amor, you breathe it in, you bathe in it.

Amor is sneaky. Which is precisely how Y/N went about her day, ate, showered, studied, breathed without ever discerning her bewitchment.

Monday’s sunrays broke over the horizon, the song of gleeful robins piercing through the cool morning air. Lazily, Y/N slipped her clothes on and decided to walk to school, enjoying the crisp breeze. Autumn trees coasted along the route as she slowly carried herself to school, her tired eyes carefully observing the orange and brown leaves twirl down in timeless waltzes onto the cold concrete ground.

When she finally got to school, Y/N walked over to her locker, unlocking the padlock with her designated combination. As she placed the contents of her bag on top of the metal shelves and retrieved her chem notes, Y/N readjusted the wine-red turtleneck she had meticulously picked out from her wardrobe the day before.

“Uncomfortable but necessary.” She thought to herself as she turned around.

Her heart suddenly leapt into her chest, her eyes landing on Stiles’ dark blue flannel shirt. Taking a step forward, she was about to call out his name, when his eyes met hers. Time paused yet again, Stiles’ furtive gaze avoiding hers, his amber irises quickly looking down at his feet as he resumed his conversation with Scott.

A brief glimpse of the undeniable tension between the pair, a sight covered by amor’s thick layer of fog.

A wave of hurt washed over Y/N’s entire body, but she bit her lip and hurried off to class, choosing to ignore the feeling rather than dwell on it.

Class seemed to last even longer than usual, the constant tick-tick-tick of the clock rocking Y/N into a state of pure passiveness. The words spoken by her teacher floated around her head, seeping out through her ears almost as rapidly as they had penetrated her mind.

When the lunch bell rang, Y/N couldn’t help but exhale softly, releasing some of the tension stacked atop her weary shoulders since earlier that day. No matter how much she tried to focus on her notes, a chaotic whirlwind slowly formed inside of her, preventing her from following the teacher’s train of thought.

Her fingers furiously tapping against her thigh, Y/N stood up hurriedly and grabbed her bag, sliding its handles onto her shoulder. Pushing her way through the crowd of students, she walked out of the building and onto the school field, making her way towards the walnut tree.

“Hey, Y/N!” shouted Allison, waving her over with her gentle hands.

Y/N rushed over and plopped down by the brunette, breathing in the cool air.

“Where are the others?” she asked, noticing how empty the table was.

“Why are you so impatient? The bell only just rang,” Allison said, her light laughter filling the atmosphere surrounding them.

Y/N watched as the group slowly reunited, Scott and Kira walking over nonchalantly, arms linked together, followed by Isaac, unmistakingly blushing at the sight of Allison. Finally, Lydia joined the table and sat across from Y/N, her beautiful hair wrapped into a low bun.

“I am so hungry,” said Scott as he hurriedly took out his sandwich, eagerly taking a large bite out of it with a moan.

“I thought I was gonna pass out in calculus. I am so tired!” exclaimed Allison, burying her face in her delicate hands.

“Yeah, I still haven’t recovered from Friday,” agreed Lydia.

Y/N’s mind flashed right back to the sweaty dance floor, bursts of colour flooding her memory, and she bit down on her lip, shutting her eyes.

“Y/N, you okay?” asked Isaac. The group looked over at her, puzzled faces staring at her own.

“Yeah, everything’s fine!” she replied, her fingers dramatically twisting around the fabric of her coat.

“So, uh, where’s Stiles?” she asked, quickly but not subtly changing the subject.

Scott’s head slightly tilted to the right, a confused expression on his face.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Didn’t tell me what?”

Scott nonchalantly pointed at a table a few feet away from the walnut tree where the gang was seated, Y/N’s eyes following his lead. Her puzzled gaze landed on the dark blue flannel shirt from that morning, wrapped around a boy sitting across from a tall brown-haired girl, their heads buried in books, but their eyes fixated on each other.

“There’s this new girl, Malia Tate. He offered to help her with her math,” explained Scott, unaware of the pit deepening in Y/N’s gut.

As Y/N observed the pair sitting far away from the group’s table, the pumping muscle lodged between her lungs tightened with affliction, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.

The voices surrounding her melted into each other, the sound of her friends’ chatter fading into the background as she kept on staring, the ache in her abdomen persisting.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Several interminable weeks had passed since this particular lunch break. November was slowly coming to an end, along with Y/N’s withering patience. The air had become cooler, and not just the one blowing through the leafless trees.

Stiles and Y/N’s friendship had started to abate, its previous progression suddenly coming to a strange halt, much to Y/N’s dismay. Her phone occasionally buzzed, the screen revealing only a brief answer on his part, or a funny picture or joke every once in a while. However, the long phone calls and texts until 2 am had seemingly come to an end.

Y/N couldn’t exactly pinpoint how it made her feel, but it didn’t feel good, that much was clear. Stiles hadn’t disappeared from the face of the earth, but his texts were spread much further apart, and when he was around, at lunch or in class, he wasn’t truly there, always focused on something else.

She couldn’t help but feel as though there was a void in her day, a gap only replenishable by the mole-speckled boy. She tried to distract herself from the looming feeling of loneliness by hanging out with Allison and Lydia, their light hearted conversations usually effective. Only, her attempts fell short as soon as she was alone again. It had come to a point where Y/N would count the hours between each message, trying to come up with reasons why he wouldn’t just text her back sooner. None of this helped of course.

Constantly thinking about the source of your pain can only do one thing: vivify it.

One rainy Tuesday, Y/N sat down at a table in the school cafeteria, dropping her lunch tray onto the cool surface with a soft thud. Squeezing in between Lydia and Allison, across from Scott and Isaac, she reached for her apple and bit into it with a satisfying crunch as the chatter surrounding her slowly increased.

The girls chatted as the boys focused on Scott’s phone, their eyes glued to the screen.

Y/N raised an eyebrow at them and leaned forward, snapping her fingers just a few inches away from their faces. Scott’s head snapped upwards and Isaac startled, the pair releasing a breath as she chuckled.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” she asked.

Isaac handed her the phone before grabbing his turkey sandwich.

“Our English teacher showed us this website with a bunch of riddles and we’re trying to figure some of them out,” Scott replied, pointing at the screen as Y/N slowly scrolled down.

“You guys are studying riddles?” Allison gasped. “Why do we always get stuck with the boring English teacher?”

“The more you take, the more you leave behind.” Y/N read one of the riddles aloud.

“Footsteps,” replied Lydia with ease, nibbling on her carrot sticks.

“Okay genius, what about this. What is easy to get into but harder to get out of?” Allison asked, peering over Y/N’s shoulder.

Lydia paused, reflecting quietly as the group observed her furrowed brow with amusement.

“Can I give it a go?” asked Isaac, hand raised.

“Go ahead.”

“Trouble?”

“That’s it!” replied Allison.

“Of course you’d get that one right,” Y/N joked, shaking her head.

“Oh okay, try this one. Who has married hundreds but still stays single?”

Suddenly, Stiles’ voice resonated in Y/N’s ears as he sat down next to Scott, his lips curled into a grin.

“A priest,” he said, accompanied by a soft click of his tongue.

“Correct,” replied Y/N, pointedly staring down at her apple.

“Speaking of weddings…when��s yours Stiles? We’re all invited right? And is it an open bar or have you not yet discussed your opti-“

“That’s funny, Isaac, that’s very funny,” answered Stiles. “Yeah, I’ll make sure your invitation gets lost in the mail.”

“Seriously though...Malia?” asked Scott, a sly smile drawn on his lips, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards.

Stiles blushed a little, avoiding everyone’s gazes as he watched his fingers repeatedly tap against the table, his lips pursing together.

“Malia, the girl from your math class?” inquired Lydia.

“Yep, and they’ve been talking…a lot…” Scott teased, his voice higher than usual. Stiles shot him a glare and shook his head in disbelief.

“You can’t keep a thing to yourself can you?” he laughed.

“Wait, so are you guys…?” Allison asked, her chin resting in the palm of her hand.

Y/N shot a glance at Stiles, her heart picking up its pace as she waited for a response.

Was something going on between them? Were they just friends? Was Malia the reason why Stiles and her weren’t talking as much?

“We’re talking. She’s fun. It’s fun. Talking, is- fun,” Stiles said, fumbling his words in embarrassment, his cheeks flooding with red.

“Wow, you’re smitten aren’t you?”

“Okay! Guys, let’s give him a break from the interrogation. He looks like he’s about to explode,” exclaimed Y/N, desperately trying to change the subject, for both their sakes.

Stiles sent her a grateful look and chuckled, the group moving onto another topic, enjoying their lunch together before classes started anew.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Later, after the busy day had winded down and the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, Y/N lay on her bed, the tiny fairy lights hanging on her wall catching her eye as she quietly hummed along to Peach Pit. As the leader singer gave way to the guitarist’s blissful riff, her phone buzzed, and her quiet bubble burst.

She sighed as she reached for it, her fingers connecting with the cool screen. Her tired eyes adjusting to the sudden blue light, she focused on the screen, her lips curling into a soft smile as she read the words she had just received.

Stiles: what comes in hard but comes out soft?

Stiles: tip: you can blow it

Y/N: you’re disgusting

Stiles: excuse me

Stiles: I don’t know what you’re talking about

Y/N: what is it?

Stiles: it’s gum

Y/N shook her head, rolling her eyes at the pervy connotation.

Y/N: ha ha ha

Stiles: it’s not my fault you have a dirty mind

Y/N: yea yea, I was completely innocent before meeting you guys

Stiles: please

Stiles: there’s nothing innocent about you

She stopped, rereading the words carefully, her memories from the Halloween rave flooding back. Those god awful colours just couldn’t stop dancing in the back of her mind.

Hesitantly, she typed in her answer.

Y/N: so what’s up?

She patiently waited, her hands still holding onto her phone, the soft music in the background rocking her peacefully.

Stiles: well

Stiles: I’ve been talking to Malia a lot

Y/N: how’s it going with her?

Stiles: actually we’re hanging out tomorrow

Stiles: in the woods

Y/N felt a pang of hurt in her abdomen but she swiftly ignored it.

Y/N: wow

Y/N: is this a date?

Time stopped for a few seconds before his painful answer showed up on the screen.

Stiles: I think so yea

Y/N: damn

Y/N: so you really like her huh?

Stiles: yea she’s great

Stiles: she’s kind of dominant too?

Stiles: very assertive

Stiles: it’s

Stiles: interesting

Y/N: you like that?

Stiles: it’s definitely not something I’m used to

Stiles: but yea it’s nice

Stiles: I haven’t really talked to anyone about this besides Scott so don’t tell anyone please

Y/N: ofc not

Stiles: thanks

Stiles: quick question

Stiles: might sound weird so don’t judge me

Y/N: go ahead lmao

Stiles: what do you do before you kiss a girl

Stiles: do you ask for permission or do you just do it?

Y/N’s heart momentarily stopped beating and she gulped, her eyes fixated on the surprisingly hurtful words. Her mind completely blank, she paused the music from her computer and passed a hand through her hair, trying to think of an answer. Finally, she drew a deep breath and replied, her hands steady as stone.

Y/N: there’s no answer to that haha

Y/N: you have to do what feels natural

Stiles: yea, you’re probably right

Stiles: just don’t want to mess it up

Y/N: you won’t

Stiles: thanks

Y/N: tell me how it goes!

Stiles: will do

Stiles: and thanks again

Y/N: npp

Y/N shut her phone off and plugged her charger in, placing it on her bedside table. Turning off all of the lights, and drawing her bedroom curtains to a close, she settled beneath her comforter, spreading her limbs with a wide stretch. As she shifted onto her side, placing her hands underneath her cool pillow, she let her eyes roam around her bedroom, thoughts churning in her head.

He had feelings for this girl. Stiles actually liked Malia. And not only was he going on a date with her, but he had talked to Y/N about it. Had she really just imagined it was Stiles on that dance floor? Had she really just mistaken the person kissing her, sliding his lips up and down her neck as she held onto him? And if so, if all of this was purely just her mind playing tricks on her, what did that mean? Did she want it to have been Stiles?

Amor was lingering around her head but she couldn’t see it. All of these questions bustling in her mind soon blended into silence as she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

The next day flew by in a blur of classes and scribbles on sheets of paper, a bland and monotone school day. Only one event stood out.

Stiles: well it’s official

Stiles: Stiles Stilinski is a bachelor no more

She congratulated him and heard all of the details surrounding Stiles’ date with Malia. The brunette had laughed at his jokes, she’d held his hand, they’d walked down the stream in the woods, talking endlessly, and then he had leaned in and kissed her.

And she had kissed him back.

What the group had originally thought to be a fling had turned into something more, it had become a real serious relationship.

More absent than ever, Stiles spent most of his time with his new girlfriend, enjoying the feeling of her lips against his own when they kissed each other and the complicity between them. Everyone could tell he was beyond excited about the thrilling sensations that came with young love, though no one other than Y/N knew just how much.

Every day, her phone buzzed, the notifications reminding her that her friend loved making Malia laugh, or that Malia liked the same band he did. Reminding her that he was happy.

And Y/N was unbelievably happy for him as well. She tried to focus on the positives, mainly the fact that the pair had started talking again. Things had gone back to normal, their inside jokes rekindled and their conversations more frequent. But still, something just didn’t sit right.

Y/N pushed this feeling away, diving into new hobbies and hanging out with her friends. As a child, she had always loved drawing and painting. As a matter of fact, she had even followed lessons in an atelier not far from her house, in her hometown. She’d always loved painting but as she had grown older, her extra time had become much slimmer and with life getting in the way, she had had to let it go.

Then one fateful December afternoon, Lydia forced the girls to paint with her in the art room at school. Much to Y/N’s surprise, the tranquility she had felt as a child while holding a brush came back unbelievably naturally.

It was like the brush had never left the palm of her hand. So she started painting again.

When she wasn’t studying or spending time with the pack, creating timeless memories with them, she was hidden away in her room by the window, her fingers curling around her paintbrush, her hair wrapped into a loose bun.

The simple act of turning thin stripes of colour into shapes and scenes was so beautifully appeasing to her. With every flick of her hand, with every twist and turn of blues and yellows onto the white canvas, she felt herself come alive again. Every worry, every disappointment, and every doubt poured out of her hands and blended into the mythical paradises she painted.

Sometimes we live without something, and we don’t realize just how much we miss it until we let it back in. She had missed this terribly.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

As the early mornings became darker and darker with every passing day, Y/N spent hours watching the sky and the leafless trees, observing time and its slow and tantalizing movement. She memorized the scenes before her as she got dressed for school, her eyes lingering on the dark blue sky outside and the yellow halos of light emitted from the streetlamps.

Sometimes simple things like the way your eye catches the light can be astoundingly beautiful. Y/N paid attention to details in order to paint them later. Every trace, every shadow, every speck of light was equally important.

One morning, finally ready for school, Y/N walked out of her home, adjusting the red beanie on her head, her bag swung over her shoulder. The frosty morning air greeted her and she thanked herself for having decided to wear her dark grey wool sweater. Turning on the ignition (and the heat) of her dad’s car, Y/N left the driveway, and made her way to the high school, the sun slowly but surely peaking above the horizon.

Y/N’s fingers furiously tapped against the steering wheel of the car, the school coming into eyeshot. Classes were becoming more and more exhausting with winter exams right around the corner. The air was tense inside the school, students talking about their exam schedules and fears about their upcoming performances.

Y/N was nervous too. She was a good student, but quite often, she would get lost in her thoughts, ignoring her teachers rant about equations and The Scarlet Letter. She studied and she handed in her essays on time, however doubt clouded her mind, and maybe her hard work wouldn’t be enough.

These thoughts played on a loop in her head as Y/N attended her first two classes, time ticking by slowly.

When Y/N entered her classroom for the third period, students shoved past her, quickly exiting the room and heading on to their next lesson. She slumped into her seat, her bag landing on the surface of her desk with a thud. As she waited for her history professor to get to class, her eyes scanned the room.

She watched her fellow classmates enter the room, chatting loudly, groups forming around students seated on their desks or lingering by the windows. She glanced to her right and noticed Stiles, always recognizable due to his colourful flannels, seated a few desks away from her, close to the blackboard.

“Stiles!” she called out his name, puzzled. He didn’t have history class with her. Her eyes lingered on his arched back and she repeated herself. “Stiles?”

His back still turned to her flinched at the sound of her voice and she frowned before standing up and walking over to him. As she inched closer, she glanced down at his fingers, curled around the edge of his desk, the tips white from the pressure of his grip. His knee burst up and down at a furious pace as she placed her hand on his shoulder, the color draining from her face when her gaze fell upon Stiles’ contorted expression.

“Stiles, what’s going on? Are you okay?” she asked with a whisper as she bent down next to him.

He emitted a small whine, his breathing suddenly more audible.

“Sti, talk to me,” she murmured, rubbing his back slowly.

His breathing became more unsteady with every movement of her hand and he gasped, making Y/N’s heart leap in her chest. The room had started to quiet down, and she turned, quickly realizing the scene was starting to draw a lot of attention. Putting her arm around her friend, she stood up and dragged him out of his chair, his legs staggering as he followed her out of the room.

As soon as the pair had gotten out of the classroom and into the hallway, Stiles’ breathing tripled in velocity, his breaths short and intense. Y/N held onto him, treading as quickly as possible through the hall, trying desperately to get to the boy’s locker room, where they’d be alone.

Pushing past the crowd of bustling students, Y/N’s eyes lit up as they approached the blue door she had been looking for. The pair burst into the dim locker room, Stiles rushing over to the back of the room, his legs giving in under the weight of his shaking body. His breathing was erratic and fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he punched the floor, the pain in his knuckles incomparable to the burning sensation in his gut. Y/N ran over to him, her knees hitting the floor with a painful thud, but she didn’t care, instead focusing on Stiles’ pale and tormented face.

“Breathe. Come on, breathe with me,” she said, an undeniable hint of worry in her voice she had difficulty hiding.

“I-I…can’t,” he gasped, a choked sob escaping his throat.

Y/N grabbed his quaking hands and held them in her sweaty palms, her eyes fixated on his.

“Sti, look at me. Look at me,” she insisted and he squinted at her through the thick tears spilling over the barrier of his eyelids. Soothingly caressing his shaking hands, her eyes piercing through his, she spoke, her voice a gentle anchor grounding him into reality.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything’s gonna be fine. I’m here. You’re okay,” she repeated, her voice slightly trembling.

She had never seen him like this. He was a shaking mess, his face wet and twisted in pain, his breathing still highly unsteady.

Stiles held onto her hands with difficulty, his chest heaving as he struggled not to give in to the never-ending waves of panic washing over his quaking body.

Y/N inhaled and exhaled slowly, her eyes never leaving his. Her exaggerated breaths were soon followed by his own weak attempts at controlling his lungs, groans of pain slipping through his gritted teeth.

“Here do this. Press your finger against one of your nostrils and inhale for 5 seconds with the other. You can do this,” she said, acting out her words as carefully as possible.

Stiles struggled to follow her lead but slowly, he pushed the tip of his shaking finger into his skin, blocking the path for oxygen through his left nostril.

“Okay, good. Inhale. 1…2…3…” she counted, and he inhaled with her, his breath occasionally bursting through his mouth.

“Keep going, come on. 4…5…Hold it in!” she cried, her eyes welling up at the sight of Stiles’ pained expression, his chest obviously about to burst.

“Okay, breathe out, with me. 1…2…3…4…5…” Y/N murmured, her gentle fingers caressing his hand. The boy exhaled with her and shook his head, almost as if he couldn’t believe the method was starting to work.

“You’re doing great. Switch nostrils now. There you go. 1…2…3…”

The pair breathed in and out in sync, Y/N’s hands still holding Stiles’. After a few minutes, each breath of his was accompanied by a slightly deeper one, Y/N’s shoulders loosening with relief as a wave of calm washed over her.

As the chaos in the room started to subside, she felt Stiles’ fingers tighten in her palm, his sweaty skin pressed against hers. She looked into his red-rimmed eyes and gave it a reassuring squeeze, her unoccupied hand reaching up to wipe the tears off of his weary face as her body shifted upwards.

Before she could touch his skin, Stiles caught her hand and pulled her into an embrace, his lips quivering tremendously as he broke down, warm tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Don’t leave, please. I need you. I need you,” he repeated like a mantra, his entire body going limp in Y/N’s arms, strangled sobs escaping from his sore throat. The girl closed her eyes as the felt Stiles’ heart thunder furiously against her chest, small tears threatening to spill over her eyelids.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered in his ear, tightening her embrace.

“I need you. I need you.”

A/N: hope u liked this part!! please reblog if u did :) feedback is also always appreciated <3

if you would like to be added to this series’ taglist, please send me an ask :)

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#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #Stiles Stilinski fanfic #Stiles Stilinski series #Stiles Stilinski x reader #Stiles Stilinski x reader insert #teen wolf #tw #Dylan o'brien #v writes #a shitty love song #series #angst #fluff #warnings #viewer discretion is advised #panic attack trigger warning #panic attack #trigger warning

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kirishwima · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! I adore your writings! Are you still taking requests? May I ask you to write some headcannons for RFA (including V and Saeran) reacting to MC looking like a sweet cinnamon roll but in fact being a lead of rock band that perfectly practices extreme vocal techniques. Sorry if I made some mistakes (I am not a native speaker and, unfortunately, was out of English practice for a long period of time) and huge thank you!

heyo! Don’t worry, your english is fine ^^

I hope you like this, I wrote for MC using she/her pronouns, but I can absoloutely change that if you’d like!

I unfortunately don’t have the time to write for V and Saeran too right now, but I promise I’ll come back to this headcanon and write their parts too once I have the time to! Sorry ;;

YOOSUNG:

He felt like the luckiest man in the world, having such a cute loving girlfriend!! The two make the cutest freaking couple, people cooing at them when they walk down the street

So when MC told him she's in a band, he found it really cool, but didn't question it further-he assumer she may sing some cute acoustic songs or pop bops.

When MC invited him to a show at a bar he was a little curious about the location choice but hey, of course he'll be there to support his girl!

When they arrived MC kissed him, promising she'll see him after the show; he invited a few of his classmates along to see his MC's talent uplose

He already started wondering what kind of band MC's was when the opening act started with punk rock covers of pop songs, one particularly sticking in Yoosung's mind as it was a rendition of Taylor Swift's 'Love story', taking note of their extreme fashion, all spikes and dyed bright hair...

And them MC's band came on stage and hoo boy she was unrecognisable! Thick smudged eyeliner, a bold black lipstick, her leather jacket adorned with patches and spikes all over, her jeans so ripped you could see her thighs, and thos massive combat boots...

Yoosung didn't have the time to pass out as MC greeted the crowd with a cheer and the drummer started up the beat, the guitsrist following suit, and MC's voice...

Sure he heard her hum at home but this was NUTS. Her voice was so thick, deep, yet she managed to pull out some screams from her little frame that Yoosung couldn't believe

After the show he would NEVER shut up about how much of a cool badass his girl is. And if someone said sure, she's cute but not a badass...Yoosung would simply invite them to MC's next preformance

ZEN:

When MC had casually mentioned she's a singer in the RFA chatroom, Zen was thrilled!!! How did he end up flirting-dating a fellow colleague??

When he kept asking what kind of singing she did, MC cryptically replied 'oh, it might not be the type of gig you're used to' and left it at that, much to Zen's dismay.

After the two started dating, MC invited him along to a show, which Zen excitedly prepared for, tagging along as MC drove him to the location.

He took note of the underground bar-turned-coner-hall, the exposed cement walls and dingy barstand in the further corner, how there were posters and graffiti covering parts of the walls, the floor...

He raised a brow; Zen was no stranger to the punk rock scene, and definitely not to these underground bars; let's not forget he was in a motorcycle gang thank u very much

MC took him along backstage to meet her bandmates, whose styles ranged from completely average everyday style to punk spikey badass. He didn't question that either, but started to understand what MC's gig was, smirking as he realized; MC was testing him, pushing to see just how comfortable he'd be with her scene.

As the opening act started up on the stage, MC had been putting the finishing touches to her makeup, Zen sitting besides her smirking up at her reflection in the mirror.

"What?" she asked with a laugh, adjusting her spikey necklace.

"Not my kind of gig, you'd called it? Baby, I've been in this scenes long long ago. And knowing you're about to go out there and sing your lungs off..." he bit his lip, having the nerve to look bashful for a moment.

She rolled her eyes as he stood up, tugging her into an embrace.

"Give them hell out there" he whispered in her ear.

And she did. Hoo boy she did.

What she also did was bring out Zen to the stage...and boy, this man was born for the punk rock scene!!

JAEHEE:

To be fair...Jehee respected MC's profession, but she didn't really understand at first.

"So...it's not like Zen's musicals?" "No Jaehee, it's not." "But...you sing and have a distinctive style when on stage?" "Yes!" "I see...just like Zen! :D" "Jaehee...no baby"

Instead of trying to explain, MC sat Jaehee on the couch, connecting her phone to the TV to find one of her band's videoclips to play.

She settled on one of her favorite songs of theirs, and with a glance Jaehee's way, she hit play.

Jaehee was mesmerised; she stared at the screen, barely blinking as she took in this brand new side of MC she was witnessing, blushing as MC sang and winked at the camera, her lipstick smudged on purpose, her black ripped shirt falling off of one shoulder as if she'd been in a scuffle, her voice-how could a girl as sweet as her MC let out such a grovely voice?!

As the video ended, Jaehee remained quiet, her eyes still focused on the screen.

"So.." MC started, "What did you think?"

With an unfathomable intensity, Jaehee turned her head towards MC, pushing her glasses that'd fallen low.

"MC, I need you to show me every videoclip and concert you've got videotaped. NOW!"

She's from now on MC's number 1 fan UwU

JUMIN:

MC actually didn't tell him much about her occupation, worried how someone serious like Jumin would take it.

He knew she sings, and that she has a band, but that's pretty much it.

Not wanting to push her, Jumin simply left it at that, allowing MC to share what she felt comfortable sharing at her own pace.

He did hear her hum songs to herself sometimes, sometimes finding her on the couch surrounded by pages and music chords as she figured out new songs and lyrics.

He did sneak a peak at one of her music sheets once, reading through the lyrics with a confused frown.

"Lips like blades cut words through blood...?" he read the words aloud, looking to the paper with furrowed brows. "I see..what a wonderful metaphor MC has thought of" he smiled, setting the paper back down. He was so proud of his beloved's talent!

Once at a buisness party, he saw an associate of his approach him and MC with his daughter in tow, a girl seemingly no older than 16.

"Mr. Han, greetings" the man started, "I'm sorry to interrupt your discussion this suddenly, but you see, my daughter saw your fiancee from across the room and insisted we come over and say hi."

The girl looked up to MC with a wide grin. "I'm sorry I-I'm a big fan! I love your music and your latest song-'Bloody Sins', I loved it so much!"

Jumin watched the situation unfold as MC chatted with the girl, even taking a 'selfie' with her that the girl squealed with joy at, and in a flurry she was gone, leaving Jumin alone with MC again.

Jumin glanced at MC, a small smile on his lips. "Bloody Sins, was it?"

MC blushed, looking away with a flustered grin. "Ah yeah um-I never told you the genre of my music, I don't think it'd be something you'll be into-"

"Metal, I assume? Or rather, judging by the glance I've happened to take at your music sheets, the chords seem more befitting of some modern form of rock. Punk rock, prehaps?"

MC stared at Jumin flabbergasted. "You...how do you even know what punk rock is?!" she couldn't help her voice raising with shock.

Jumin smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "You'll find I'm not as dull of a buisnessman as you might've thought me to be my love. If you'd do me the honor of inviting me to your next show, I'd be happy to listen to your wonderful voice live."

Jumin wearing ripped skinny jeans and leather jackets? Sign me tf UP

LUCIEL/SEVEN/SAEYOUNG:

Not only did he know who MC was from his background search on her, he was actually a fun!

He loves punk rock, its the type of music he listens to whenever he works lol, and there was something about MC's voice that he just loved

He knew MC only as she was in her videoclips and as an online persona; a strong voice, tiny and soft-spoken in a couple interviews he stumbled upon online but with heavy makeup and rocking outfits.

The MC he met in the RFA though was much different; she was soft and cute, funny but so insufferably sweet, how could an innocent girl like her belch out such badass lyrics about death and destruction?!

Not that Saeran minded it-on the contrary lol, he loved to point out the difference in online punk rock MC and his now-girlfriend MC, throwing some of her more intense lyrics her way whenever she’d try teasing him over something herself.

Still, he was her biggest supporter, talking about her online to the point of getting a hector of traction towards her band; he rarely attended her shows given his job, but when he did he’d watch her from backstage with the proudest of smiles, and sometimes…well, he’d be a bit of a prick and mess with the lighting and audios backstage lmao

Im sorry MC you’re the one that decided to date a prankster OwO

#asks #mystic messenger #mysme #mysme prompts #mystic messenger prompts #mysme headcanons #hangora

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bbrandy2002 · 5 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday Burnsy!

@burnsoslow

Burns,

You probably don't remember this, but the first time I ever talked to you was a reply to your comment on my fic, The Breakfast Club, in early July. I'm not sure what possessed you to reach out to me a week later in chats but, you did and its been one wild and crazy ride since then. You've certainly come a long way since we were new and mulling over those earlier stories-or in your case-Heavier Things, Chapter 1 (YOU ARE STILL WRITING THAT...LOL) . And while you have sooooo many friends here, for some reason you chose me to be your Tumbler Bestie. I hope you know you are so much more than that though ... you're my sister, my twinsie, a truly good friend. You've inspired me in ways you'll never know. I have watched you grow in your craft and reach an unprecedented level of talent that is evidenced in the quality of your work and through the amount of enthusiastic readers who can't wait for you to post the next epic chapter. You did it all through a tremendous amount of hard work, lot of tears and because you have a likeness that draws people to you. You're just truly an incredibly, special person who possesses a certain spark that makes this crazy place even better. And I think I tell you enough, but you really are one of the best writers in this fandom. And as you say to me all the time, I'm gonna say to you ... I'm one proud TBFF!! I can't thank you enough for all the late night laughs, bull sessions, real talks, 6 hour chats about nothing, letting me know when I'm being a dumbass or just being there when things get really, really tough. The fic I wrote isn't anything special and definitely could have been better, however I hope in some small way it captures the essence of our crazy friendship. Keep growing and shining and being your amazing self.

Love you my friend and Happy Birthday!!

Brandy

**You asked for Drake, Alyssa, Riley and Liam shenanigans. I don't know if this will be what you were expecting, but its what I came up with after 20 different versions. You'll recognize some of this as inside jokes or dialogue and situations from your own stories (yep, I stole them...lol). This is wacky and crazy and makes no sense. Okay Im shutting up now.

Thank you @sirbeepsalot for gutting the hell out of this on Monday night and @emceesynonymroll for SO MUCH of your help and suggestions. Also to my lovely pre-readers/keep me saners @jessiembruno and @loveellamae

Song Inspiration: You're Still The One by Shania Twain. **Drakes final dialogue will come from these lyrics.

Alyssa pulled her black mini-van through the palace gates, running over a cone and nearly taking out Michael, the security guard, in the process. Her hair was swept up into a very messy bun and her sunglasses were perched atop her head. She was wearing a blue, faded Bears sweatshirt, black leggings with a small hole in the crotch, and a mismatched pair of flip-flops -- both were for the left foot. Unable to find a close parking space, she double-parked her van in two handicapped-accessible spaces. She checked her reflection in the rear view mirror and wiped away the smudges of mascara that had run below her eyes.

She was hurt and mad as hell, yet waited until, 'DIRRTY’, finished on the radio before shutting the van off and tossing the keys in her oversized mom purse. Alyssa’s dainty fingers fumbled hastily as she tried to release the lock on her seatbelt with no luck. "You son of a bitch! Let me go!"

After pulling and tugging, twisting and karate chopping at it as hard as she could, she finally freed herself.

“HAHA! MOTHERFUCKER! GOTCHA!”

Alyssa snatched her purse and cell phone before she swung the door open, hopped out, and kicked the door shut. Still mumbling obscenities, she walked a few paces before turning back around and hitting the van’s hood with her swinging purse. “Fucking hold me hostage like that again and I’m driving your ass into a ravine!”

Everyone who knows Alyssa Walker would say she is generally a fun, loving, and sociable little woman. She’s a devoted wife who has been married to the man of her dreams for several years and a wonderful mother to their children. She's very successful professionally, having served as the Royal Education Director for 8 years. A social butterfly of sorts, she’s been known to give Maxwell a run for his money, in regards to being considered the life of any party. On most days, Alyssa is typically outgoing and joyful.

Today is not one of those days.

Her flip flops were barely hanging on as she trudged across the lawn that led to the palace gardens, thoughts of her morning crossed her mind.

For every single birthday since marrying Drake, she would wake up to the smell of bacon, scrambled eggs, and french toast wafting through the cabin. She would lay in bed and pretend to sleep until Drake and the kids burst in with a tray full of freshly prepared foods, a hot cup of coffee, and a glass of orange juice. They would shower her with kisses and hugs, sing Happy Birthday, and then wait anxiously as Alyssa took the first bite to see if their mother approved of the time and effort they put into making her birthday morning special. When she finished, like clockwork, Drake would send the kids outside with the eldest child and give Alyssa a gift that only he could give her; one that required the skilled use of his lips, hands, and the colossus that was his … well … colossus.

Except, there were no bacon, eggs, or french toast. There were no kids jumping on the bed to wish her a happy birthday and fighting over which one hugged her first. Drake did not send the kids away when she finished her breakfast nor had she risen from the bed barely able to walk from the most mind-blowing sex she’d ever had.

None of the things she expected happened.

When Alyssa woke up this morning no one was home. All she found was a letter by the coffee pot from Drake, telling her the kids went with Maxwell for the day and that he would see her after work. To make things worse, her 20 attempts to call him that morning went straight to voicemail.

Drake had been working late and acting shady for months, telling her he was helping Liam take care of some horses they were preparing for next month's derby. Lately, she was beginning to wonder if there was something more he wasn’t telling her.

Now she was late for her luncheon with Riley.

As Alyssa rounded the corner that entered the gardens, she saw Riley on the patio arranging a tray of fresh fruit and sandwiches on the table. An array of metallic birthday balloons danced and bounced from the chairs with the changing breeze. Alyssa frowned with resentment towards her best friend of over 20 years. Bitch is still in her 30s.

Riley’s focus was averted when she heard the sound of rustling leaves behind her. She turned on her heels and said, “Happy 40th Birthday, Old Lady!” Her cheery voice trailed off when she caught sight of her disheveled friend.

“Lyss? What the hell happened to you? You look like shit.”

Alyssa strode past Riley and threw her purse on the ground beside a chair before she slumped down into it.

Riley furrowed her brows with a snicker. “Bad day?”

Alyssa reached for a strawberry and dipped the entire berry, stem and all, into a dish of melted chocolate before leaving behind a trail of droplets from the dish to her mouth. As she chewed, she mewled. “Ma life if ofer!”

Riley scrunched up her face and arched back in an attempt to avoid the spittle of food that sprayed from her friend’s full mouth. She sighed heavily, grabbed a napkin, and wiped away the chunks of fruit-and-chocolate-mixed saliva that landed on her arm. “Oookaay, what’s going on? Why is your life over?”

Alyssa threw the stem on her plate and leaned forward into the table, gesticulating dramatically. “He didn’t tell me happy birthday, Ri! There was no breakfast, there was no spoiling, there was no fucking, colossus dick! There was nothing!”

“Who? Drake?”

“No, fucking Santa Clause! Of course Drake.”

Riley bit into her sandwich as Alyssa complained about Drake’s lack of attentiveness over the past few months. It wasn't the first time her friend had mentioned this to her; however, judging by how upset she was and the fact that she was dressed like a $2 hooker, she knew it was really serious now.

Alyssa continued to point out how Drake was always working and, supposedly, was helping Liam out with the horses too. When he returned home each night, his clothes were sweaty and dirty but never smelled like horse shit. To make things worse, the sex had dwindled. Alyssa could give up a lot of things in life, but Drake's dick was not one of them.

“I know he’s cheating, Ri,” she lamented, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

“Nooo.”

“YES! He’s found another woman … someone younger, sluttier, who hasn't popped out a bunch of kids!”

Riley scoffed. “Lyss, everyone knows Drake worships the ground you walk on. I’m sure there is a good reason why he hasn’t paid as much attention to you lately.”

“But he KNOWS I’m needy and clingy and desperate for love!” she wailed.

Riley lifted the napkin from her lap and tossed it on the table. Her friend was a hot mess -- a more than usual hot mess -- and she wanted to help. She stood and walked around the table to her grieved friend and grabbed her tiny hand. “Come on.”

Alyssa’s weepy eyes stared up at her in confusion before she let out a small sniffle. “Where are we going?”

“We are going to the stables. You said he is there today, so let's go talk to him.”

Alyssa sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I’m not going, Ri. He needs to come to me!”

Riley began pulling on her friend's arm, but Alyssa was not being very cooperative with her efforts. “Get your ass out of the chair, Lyss, and go get your man.”

Alyssa pulled back harder. “Get off me, you skank ass ho!”

Riley continued to tug at her, surprised there was so much strength in such a little body. “Bitch, I will drag your ass and this chair all the way to the stables!”

“I’d like to see you try, dumbass!”

With a hard jerk from Riley, Alyssa’s chair tipped over and she landed on the ground. Her resolve never once faded. While Riley continued to tug at her arm, Alyssa reached over and grabbed her broken flip flop and began smacking vigorously back at her.

Riley immediately let go of her and stumbled backwards. “You have gone insane!” she groaned. “I tried to help you and, if this is how you’re gonna act, leave me out of it!” She turned to walk away and glanced back quickly. “You know the way out.”

“Ri … wait.” Alyssa called out softly to her.

Riley stopped and quirked her brow with a huff. “What?”

“Can palace security take us down? You know my ass ain’t walking that far.”

Riley called for a guard to take the 30-second drive to the stables. Both girls hopped off the cart and entered the empty barn. Riley called out for members of the stable staff while Alyssa’s eyes roamed the perimeter for her husband.

“Your Majesty? Did you need something?”

Riley turned to face the man in charge as he walked around the corner wiping his hands off with an old cloth. Before she could acknowledge him, Alyssa popped in front of her, nearly knocking her over.

“Eric!! Where’s Drake?”

The Queen smiled at the stable manager. “Eric, we’re looking for Drake.”

He looked between the two women, confusion etched across his face. “Is he supposed to be here, ma’am?”

Riley looked at Alyssa, who looked like she was ready to snap at his question, then back to Eric. “Um … yes. He told Mrs. Walker here that he would be helping in the stables today.”

“Hell … I’d say its been a good --” Eric paused to calculate before turning his attention back to the women. “--three … maybe four weeks since I last saw Walker here. Came down with King Liam to take the newest horse, Driam, out for a ride … it made me real hard ma’am”

“Hold the fuck up!” Alyssa yelled with one hand on her hip and the other covering her forehead. “He told me he has been helping out here for the last several months. Is that not true?”

Eric, realizing what is going on, backed up defensively. He could sense this was not something he wanted to be a part of. “Nope. I'm not getting in the middle of your marital woes, Ms. Alyssa.” I just want in the middle of your husbands.

Alyssa approached him and aggressively poked at his chest. “Oh, you are in so far in the middle of my woes now, Ricky boy! So drop the bros before hoes bullshit and spill what you know.”

Riley grabbed both of Alyssa's shoulders from behind and pulled her aside. “It’s not his fault, Lyss. Plus … I think Eric’s the ho in this case”

Alyssa shrugged her away and began to pace back and forth frantically. “I’m seeing sounds, Ri. I am seeing fucking sounds all over this bitch!”

“Oh God, Lyss! No! Don’t look at the sounds ... Don’t look at the sounds” She turned her frantic friend around to face her, squeezing her arms soothingly. “Look at me.”

Alyssa’s lips quivered as she stared back at her best friend. “I’ve lost him, Ri. I’ve lost him.”

“No, you haven’t.”

Alyssa sniffled through her tears and wiped her nose on her shirt sleeve. “Can me and the kids live with you now that I’m a single mother with a cheating ass husband?”

Riley pulled her into a hug, rubbing comfortingly along her back. “Of course you can, but maybe we should talk to Liam first.”

Lyss wiped her tear-stained face on Riley's shoulder and pulled back. “Liam loves me. He won’t care if I stay with you.”

Riley smiled with a nod. “Yes, he does love you, but Drake loves you too and you know that. There has to be a good explanation for everything.”

“Then why did he lie? He’s never lied to me, Ri.”

Riley gave her friend a sympathetic frown and shrugged. “I don’t know, girl, but let’s find out”

Palace security was once again summoned to haul the girls back to the palace.

Liam was in his office taking part in a video conference with Queen Elizabeth when his door burst open.

“WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?!”

His eyes went wide as he cut them to the flash of Alyssa barging in and stopping behind him at his desk; Riley was just a step behind her. Liam’s face flushed as he looked back at the camera and apologized for the interruption.

“Alyssa, dear,” he whispered. “Now is not a good time.” He motioned to the video feed on his laptop.

Alyssa turned to the laptop with the 106-year-old Queen’s face still illuminating from it. “Turn the hearing aid down, Lizzie! Unless you know where Drake is, this conversation doesn’t concern you!”

“ALYSSA!!” Liam stood, towering over her petite frame. “Are you coming for your King?” (had to put that in there lol).

“Liam, she's had a rough day and, remember, we love Alyssa,” Riley interjected with an innocent smile.

“We do, but she can’t just barge in here while I’m working!”

Alyssa grabbed his tie and yanked him down closer to her face. “Please, just tell me you know where Drake is. He said he was working for you and he’s not. He didn’t tell me happy birthday, he didn’t make my breakfast, and he didn’t fuck my brains out this morning!”

“Oh My!”

Alyssa turned back to the laptop. “I thought I told you to turn your hearing aid down, you old coot!”

Liam’s hands covered his face in embarrassment as he fell back into his chair.

Alyssa crouched down in front of Liam and pulled his hands from his face. “Real talk, Li. Did you or did you not ask Drake to work for you?”

He stared at her for a moment with a deer-in-the-headlights look. He knew exactly where his best friend was and what he was doing -- he had known for months -- but he couldn’t tell her that.

Nervous, Liam knew there was one way to solve this problem. He reached over to his intercom and pressed the call button. “Bastien.”

A split second later, the door to Liam’s office opened and the head guard entered. “Your Majesty?” he said as he bowed.

“Yes, could you see Alyssa and my wife out, please.”

Exasperated with Liam's request, Alyssa stood back up and eyed Bastien with a steely glare. “I’m not afraid of this bitch! He’s the one who raised the man whore my husband became with all his hookers and shit. My children are fatherless now because of you!”

Refusing to leave, Alyssa plopped down on Liam’s lap and gripped the armrests of his chair tightly with both hands. Her bony ass caused him to yelp as it dug into the muscles of his thigh. She reached for Liam’s scotch and took a sip before leaning down so that her face could be picked up by the camera.

“Alright, Liz, help a fellow girl out here! You have a lot of experience with a cheating ass spouse and son … should I rip his big, beautiful nuts off? Orrrr … just take it up the ass like you did?"

The Queen of England clutched her chest with an exasperated expression. "Little lady … your behavior is simply prudish and insulting. I highly suggest you learn proper etiquette when addressing me … and, as for your husband, I can see why the poor man's eyes have roamed with such an immoral and, need I dare say, crazed woman such as yourself for a wife."

"Conversation over, bitch!" Alyssa threw the rest of Liam’s drink at the screen, hoping it drenched the queen and slammed the laptop shut.

"God Dammit!" Liam yelled out while he wrapped his arms around her from behind before standing up and handing her off to his guard.

With Bastien holding Alyssa in his arms, her little legs dangling and kicking at his shins, Riley took action.

The Queen grabbed her friend's feet, which were now bare from her crumbled flip flops, and tried with all her might to pull her back.

"You’re gonna break her hip, Bastien! She's an old, feeble woman now! She could have osteoporosis or the menopause!”

Giving their best efforts to escape, including Alyssa's teeth being firmly sunk into Bastien’s upper arm, neither were able to overpower his strength.

While carrying Alyssa and dragging Riley -- who was still holding onto her friends legs -- Bastien was able to get the two of them out of Liam's office and into the main corridor.

Alyssa followed Riley back to her quarters, where she was given a pair of flip-flops and new leggings from Riley’s 12-year-old daughter’s closet. The hole in the crotch of her leggings had completely blown out during the struggle with Bastien. There were still no answers or replies from Drake, and Alyssa was beginning to feel utterly hopeless.

Alyssa started to raid the royal couple’s liquor cabinet, happy to swipe a bottle of Balkan vodka, when Riley had an idea. She snapped her fingers with a sly grin. “I know someone who can help us find Drake.”

“Who?”

The ladies left the quarters and walked downstairs to the ballroom. Once inside, Alyssa took a hard swig of vodka and eyed the utility closet Riley stopped in front of with a questioning look.

The Queen gave four quick knocks followed by two slow ones and the door unlocked. Mara had been working out of this closet for years, having been fired after a fall out with Alyssa during a costume ball that nearly got her killed. The former guard walked in there during that ball and just never came back out. Riley and Bastien were the only two people who knew about this and told no one -- Bastien purely for comical reasons and Riley for a certain skill the woman possessed.

Alyssa was surprised to find the woman hiding out there after all these years. "I thought you fired her ass! I nearly got a traumatic brain injury and hearing loss from her incompetence!"

"Shhh!" Riley pulled her friend inside, peeking around the ballroom to ensure no one was looking, and shut the door quickly.

Riley explained how Liam revoked her cell phone pinging privileges with the guards before the costume ball all those years ago. Apparently, he wasn't too keen on her stalking the entire cast of Friends. He did what he had to do when a restraining order from Matthew Perry came across his desk. Mara, however, was still able to ping into anyone’s phone, thus, the Queen allowed her to stay.

“That's amazing,” Alyssa remarked. She pursed her lips as she scanned the tight space of the closet. “Can she find … maybe … Dwayne Johnson?”

Riley nodded. “Bitch can find anyone.” She looked to Mara, who was sitting at her desk, and winked with approval.

“Okay,” Alyssa clapped and leaned over Mara’s shoulder. “Let’s find him … I wanna know where Drake is!”

Within several seconds, an unfamiliar address popped up on the screen. It was close to the Walker cabin but still not somewhere Alyssa knew of.

She reached for a pen and a pad of paper from Mara’s desk and started to write down the location. “I can’t believe he lied to me this whole time! I must be really stupid for him to think he could actually get away with this.” Alyssa tossed the pen back on the desk and ripped the sheet of paper off the pad. “They’re gonna write a country song about me, Ri,” she cried. “Poppa’s in the graveyard and Momma’s in the pen! I just need a shotgun and for my damn dog to run away and I’ve got a hit!”

The two snuck out of the utility closet and ran to Alyssa’s van. Alyssa pulled the ticket for double parking in handicapped spaces from her wiper blade and threw it in her glove box with the rest of her parking tickets. Riley shoveled away the piles of empty, diet coke cans and cheese whisps bags from the passenger seat into the parking lot when she opened her door.

Alyssa squealed her tires as she burned rubber down the palace drive, taking out the same cone again, nearly running down Michael again, and driving straight through the lowered arm of the security gate.

“WOOOO!” Riley yelled as they sped through the streets of Cordonia into the countryside. “This is just like old times in college, huh, Lyss?”

“I suppose. We’re just not high as fuck.” Alyssa raised her eyebrows and grinned slyly with an all too familiar gleam in her eyes that Riley recognized immediately. “Say … grab my purse, Ri.”

“Oh God! I know that look. We're gonna get smashed aren't we?" Riley extended her arm behind the driver's seat. Alyssa reached into the side pocket of her purse and pulled out the rolled up, clear baggie and tossed it to her friend.

Unrolling the bag, Riley began to bounce in her seat with anticipation of smoking weed for the first time in 15 years. The excitement quickly faded.

“Um, Lyss?”

“Hmm?”

“I know I haven’t smoked pot in a while, but this looks like a bag of carrot sticks.”

“Give me that, dumbass!” Alyssa glanced over and snatched the bag. She held the bag over the steering wheel and examined it for herself. “Well fuck!! Looks like one of my kids had a really interesting snack yesterday at school. Oh well”

After a twenty-minute drive from the palace into a forested section of Cordonia, Alyssa and Riley stopped in front of a long gravel road. Riley double-checked the address on the van’s GPS with what was written on the paper.

“It says this is it. Look’s kind of desolate,” Riley mused, not sure where the isolated road would lead.

Alyssa turned the steering wheel of her van, probably a little too tipsy to drive considering she had consumed a quarter of a bottle of vodka (that the author of this story forgot about). They made it there, nonetheless, and no one was hurt. Never drink and drive!!

Lush, plentiful trees and a wooden fence lined the gravel road that seemed to lead to nowhere until they came upon a clear view of Lake Cordonia. Drake’s truck was sitting in front of a large wooden cabin with a huge, flat yard and one of the most stunning views of the lake either woman had seen anywhere. Alyssa tried to keep it together ... until she didn’t. When she saw Drake standing on the front porch, casually drinking a beer, shirtless and wiping his forehead with his denim shirt, she skidded the van into park next to his truck.

Drake’s eyes widened when he saw his wife get out of the van wielding an ice scraper in one hand and a tire iron in the other, a look of pure hell in her eyes.

He took a small step back. He hadn’t seen her like this since a drunken Olivia grabbed his ass at a Beaumont Bash two years ago. Drake waved his hands in front of her defensively. “Baby girl … wh … what’s going on right now?”

“Don’t you baby girl me!” Alyssa threw the ice scraper and Drake ducked just in time as it flew over his head.

Drake had no idea what the hell she was so pissed off about, but she was approaching him quickly and twirling the tire iron in her hands. He jumped over the railing of the porch and took off running around the side of the house. As he rounded the rear corner of the home, he ran directly into Riley, who was waiting to block him. The plan was a good one -- it really was -- but her thin frame was no match against the much larger Drake. With a hard thud, Riley fell backward, which caused his body to trip over her and land face down on the ground.

Drake rolled over on his back and shook his head in an attempt to get the daze out of his frazzled brain. There she was, standing over him, holding the tire iron like a bat, ready to pounce him without a second thought.

“Baby! Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“You … you’re a cheater and a liar!”

Drake went to sit up but laid back down when Alyssa flinched the hardened steel at him. “The fuck you talking about, Lyssa?”

With months of building suspicions and hurt, Alyssa took a long, deep breath and let it all out with a wail.

“I’m talking about the late nights, the shady-as-shit lies you have spewed to me over and over again. I’m talking about you missing out on dinners, coming home and falling on the bed without a word to anyone. I’m talking about only having sex with me every other day and forgetting my birthday. Now, me and the kids have to live with Liam, who hates me now because I told Queen Elizabeth she got fucked in the ass! It’s because I’m old now, isn’t it? You wanna be a Bastien and have bunga bunga sex parties with skank ass whores who have big boobies and wear their panties around their ankles! And … I just can’t compete, Drake … I just can’t.”

Drake held his hand up to block any sudden swings in his direction. “Can I get up?”

Alyssa nodded her head before she turned away from him and dropped the tire iron to the ground. “Just tell why, dammit?” she whimpered. “Was I not enough?!”

“Not enough? NOT ENOUGH?!!” He quickly rose to his feet, twisted her around and brought her flush against his hard body. With tears in his eyes, he kissed the top of her head, his thick hands sunken into her lush, brown hair. He was barely able to mutter a single word. He was visibly shaken and broken by her accusations and that she held those feelings about herself for so long.

With both hands now on the sides of her face, he tilted her head so that she was looking directly at him. “Alyssa!” he sobbed softly. “Don’t you dare ever say you aren’t enough for me … ever! You’re literally my whole world. In every single life, in any alternate universe … I choose you every single time. And you wanna know what I’ve been doing? Look!” He turned her around to face the house.

“This is what I’ve been doing all those months! I built it, with my bare hands, just for you, for your birthday. I wanted you to have a bigger home so you could get out of that small cabin and have the view and the yard you always dreamt of. I wasn’t cheating and I didn't forget your birthday. I just wanted you to have everything you deserve”

Alyssa gave Drake a quizzical look. “But … you’re terrible at woodworking.”

Drake chuckled. “Maybe I love you enough I learned.”

Alyssa sunk to her knees, not to give a blow job, but realization and understanding of the last few months had set in. She stared up at the beautiful, two-story log cabin that had every bit of her husband’s heart and soul for her in it and wept. “Drake.” Her voice was raspy and full of guilt. “I’m so, so sorry.’

He crouched down behind her and wrapped his loving arms around Alyssa before placing a gentle nip at her ear. “You've nothing to be sorry for. I guess I gave you plenty of reasons to think that, but I was crunched for time and wanted to surprise you. Just hope you like it.”

“It’s magnificent … and it’s our home?”

“It's our home. Happy Birthday, Baby girl.”

Drake and Alyssa checked on Riley, who was still knocked out cold. After assisting her and giving her a moment to collect herself, Alyssa thanked her friend for all of her help and gave her the keys to the van to return home in.

Drake showed his wife around their new cabin, pointing out the lowered cabinets in the kitchen that would be easier for her to reach. He had built her a library where she could work from and read without the noise and chaos of a house full of children running around. She was thrilled over the balcony that sat just off their bedroom, overlooking the lake and featuring private jacuzzi tub where they could relax together and, of course, have sex in.

Drake took her outside and walked down to the lake, where he had put a gazebo in overlooking the water and ushered her to the center of it.

“Drake! This is amazing. How did you know I wanted this?”

He drew her closer to him and kissed the tip of her nose. “I know everything about you, Lyssa … there’s nothing I wouldn’t give you.”

She smiled up at him lovingly. “And I love you so much for it.”

He reached for one of her tiny hands, brought it to his chest, and wrapped his other arm around her back. With very little room between them, he kissed her lips tenderly. “Dance with me, Alyssa.”

Alyssa gave him a knowing look with a grin. “Drake Walker doesn’t like to dance.”

He began to sway with her to music that wasn’t there, but he felt it in his heart. “Drake Walker will always dance with his girl.” Kissing her once more, they began to slowly dance together and Alyssa had never felt more alive or loved in her life. He has that effect on her--always had and always will.

He spun her in a twirl and pulled her tiny body back into his own. “Ya know, Lyssa … when I first saw you, I saw love.”

Drake reached down and lifted the bottom of her sweatshirt over her head and tossed it on a nearby bench. He caressed her cheek and trailed a gentle line down her neck and across her shoulder. “And the first time you touched me, Baby Girl ...I felt love.”

His lips found that sweet spot just behind her ear before he whispered to her. “And after all this time ...”

Drake’s thumb grazed across her bottom lip before he stared into the blue eyes of his yesterday, today, and forever. “You’re still the one I love.”

What happens next? .......

#drake walker #drake x ALYSSA #alyssa devereaux

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nightmaretyrantvantas · 5 years ago

Text

The Journey for Mew Part 2: The Distressed Aftermath and the Lost Start of the Adventure

Alright guys the story continues in part 2 as morning rises on our bois after the previous hellish night!

What will happen to the good bois....time to find out!

Im also trying something a little different so I hope it works out right

Buckle back up this is gonna be another long one

Patton jolted at the sound of slightly frantic knocking at the front door, snapping him out of dozing off and his head falling into the carrots he was cutting. He set the knife down and rubbed his tired baby blue eyes, adjusting his glasses and trying to put on a happy face as he shuffled through the house to the front door and undid the locks. He pulled open the door with a smile plastered on his face, hoping he didnt look as exhausted as he felt.

“ Oh, Emile! Remy! This is a surprise I didnt know you guys were back in town, you never called! Cmon come on in im just getting lunch done and prepping dinner.” He led the two taller gym leader males into the house and to the open kitchen and dining room, gesturing for them to sit down and make themselves at home.

Remy glanced around and then out the big open windows, where he could see Roman and Remus outside rebuilding parts of the fence, fixing up broken and demolished sheds and pokemon habitats, and adding burnt trash to a slowly growing disposal pile seperating them. Even in the distance he could faintly make out the bandage patches and nasty bruises covering Remus whenever he turned towards them. Then he looked back towards Patton who was cheerfully catching up with his fiance Emile as he finished making lunch. One of Patton’s pokemon, a gentle natured Gardevior that helped run the nursery, came into the room from the back with a basket of berries, smiling and greeting them softly.

“ Well heya Viola! Hows motherhood been treating you?” Emile chuckled with his question, watching the small line of hatched Ralts waddling after the older pokemon, each holding their own berry. Viola smiled and shooed them to the nursery while setting the basket down.

“ Oh Viola’s been having a fun time raising the ralts, they all adore her and follow her around whenever they can, I always know she’s nearby if I see a ralts.” Patton chuckled as he finished the burgers and salad and set some down for the guests and set some aside for Roman and Remus and himself before sitting down with them at Viola’s insistence. Taking a closer look at him the other two shared a concerned glance.

Patton, to be frank in Remy’s opinion, looked like shit. His round glasses were smudged more than usual and one side of them looked like it had been hastily repaired as they now sat lopsided on his freckled face. His skin was pinkish as if recovering from a sunburn and his eyes were tinged around the corners, bags of exhaustion forming under them. Once he sat down the shorter trainer slumped a little into his chair, giving them a smile and sipping some lemonade as he asked how their lives were. Remy leaned back, crossing his arms.

“ Its been uneventful at the gym, something it seems I cant say for here. Time to cut the stalling babe, what the fuck happened here?” Patton winced and Emile elbowed his fiance.

“ Rem. You gotta be gentle when asking some things...” He sighed and looked at Patton with concern.

“ But Pat...what did happen? Half the fencing is destroyed on either side of the house, alot of parts of the property around it and in front of it look trashed and scorched....Is everything ok? Wheres Thomas and the others?” There was a sigh and Viola sensed her trainer’s distress, coming over and placing a calming hand on his shoulder. He smiled and looked at his lemonade, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his eyes without answering.

What had happened?

Where were the others?

These were things that echoed in his mind, getting lost in thought as he looked outside.

Things were still a bit blurry towards the end of last night. Patton remembered the fire, feeling the heat dangerously close to his skin, burning him lightly as he struggled to douse the flames and keep grunts away from the pokemon.

He remembered them retreating and seeing Remus chasing them off more with a piece of the fence, angry pokemon following him to help him.

He remembered hearing Logan scream, and running towards him.

He remembered being sick with horror seeing Virgil’s unmoving body in his arms and running, calling his name. And watching Logan collaspe into Darkrai’s waiting arms.

Take them inside, they will need treatment Patton human. Do not fret, I will keep any more threats away for the night. You will be safe.

He remembered helping Thomas and Roman carry the two inside and Remus stumbling in after, panicked because he couldnt find Janus anywhere.

Janus was gone. His older brother was missing.

He almost choked on a sob right there at the table thinking about it, about the fact Virgil lay unconscious upstairs, still not waking up.

About the fact Logan was just as unmoving in his own room across from him.

He took a shakier breath and refocused on the two now very worried friends across from him, and dropped his smile.

“ It happened last night....”

Janus wasnt sure where he was at first when he awoke, all he knew was he was warmer than before and not in bed. He looked around in a sleepy panic at the nature around him, noticing he was laying in a burrow covered in thick moss as a makeshift blanket and Mew still asleep in his arms. Seeing Mew brought back the memories of the night, and the fact a usually standoffish Dusknoir had pulled him to a bit of safety before teleporting him away before he could make a sound, and he had the foggier memory of wandering closer to the mountain pass opening after landing before the exhaustion blurred his memory too much. He did NOT remember making a bed in a burrow, and he carefully crawled out with a yawn. As he did the greenery around him shuddered and rustled and instinctively he held Mew tighter, his guard snapping him into full alertness.

“ Saandslash!” “ Krok? Krokorok!”

And all at once he relaxed as two of his own pokemon stumbled out, both holding armfuls of edible herbs, wild growing vegetables, and fruits and berries. Both brightened upon seeing their trainer awake and hurried over smiling up at him happily. Janus let out a relieved laugh and sat cross-legged, placing Mew gently in his lap to rub their heads affectionately.

“ Did you guys tuck us into a safe place to sleep? You even got food already...ha...You’re both great guys...” He ran a hand through his hair and watched Ethos his sandslash and Pathos his krokorok work together to tug a another clump of thick moss over to him and set the food down, plopping down beside him to eat breakfast. But he couldnt eat at first, looking up at the mountain beside him that seemed to stretch up past the clouds. What was he even doing here? Why did they send him here? What had happened to the Sanctuary, to his little brother, to his friends?

Questions and worries whirled through his head at everything unknown to him. He was a good maybe...three of four days journey on foot from his home, partially lost in the wilderness with no supplies except for the pocket knife Remus gave him for his birthday and a compass he wore as a necklace, and his pokemon and an injuried legendary pokemon, and absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do.

His mind flashed to thoughts of Virgil, of him throwing Mew to him and running into battle...of his body folding to the ground...to Remus, who was likely frantic and confused at his sudden absence. Who would get himself into reckless danger to try to find him...Janus squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to try pushing the images away. Dwelling on that too much right now wouldnt help him. With a sigh he looked down at the bundle and nudged it open more, watching Mew’s breathing with worry.

“ Krok...” His eyes flickered up to see Pathos standing by his knee, holding out a rawst berry to him. He smiled and took it, patting his head.

“ Good thinking Pathos....this should help them alot.” He watched the ground pokemon perk up happily and moved carefully to pull out his knife, trying not to jostle the poor smaller pokemon too much. Janus began cutting the berry into little bite sized pieces and set the knife aside to scoop Mew up closer and press a piece of berry to its mouth.

“ Cmon buddy...this will help you feel better...I promise...” Mew stirred and weakly pried open its eyes, keening at him softly and leaning its head away. He sighed and gently offered it again.

“ I promise Mew its ok...Its a berry...itll help...” It still refused and looked at him, making him smile in return.

“ Here, We’ll prove it.” He took a few pieces and popped them into his mouth, eating the contently and trying to ignore the ore bitter taste. He mightve not hidden the taste as well as he hoped, but he saw Mew smile and giggle faintly which made it worth it. After him both Ethos and Pathos took some pieces and ate some as well, giving Mew reassuring chirrs and nods. After watching them all Janus offered another piece, and one by one Mew ate the rest, though its tongue stuck out at the taste. He chuckled and then cut up an oran berry and repeated the process, and then with some more berries until Mew seemed full and nuzzled back into Virgil’s jacket for warmth.

“ Good job buddy, now get plenty of rest...you deserve it.” He leaned down and lightly pressed his forehead to Mew’s, a sign of trust and respect he had learned in his time traveling and working at the Sanctuary. He felt Mew relax and smiled, moving its head up to touch noses.

And suddenly his head was filled with blurry images.

The mountain

A path off the main summit path. A cavern opening in the side of the mountain hidden by a weeping willow.

Tunnels in the cavern, crystals lighting the way.

Pokemon in the mountain.

Another path within the mountain, crystals densing and filling more and more of the walls

The heart of the moutain, and a cavern of light reflecting crystals

A pool of glowing water in the center

A blurry image of hands placing Mew within the water, and mew popping out of the water fully healed.

A destination, and a goal.

And just as suddenly as the images came they disappeared and he lifted his head slightly dazed to see Mew fall back asleep, breathing still weak but a little stronger than before. Once he regained his bearings he looked back up at the mountain before him, brows furrowing in determination. Janus may not have everything he was shown fully deciphered but now he had a place to start. And a goal to set his eyes on. With that he cradled Mew in his arms and got to his feet. Ethos walked up beside him and stood at his side, looking up at him with curious eyes. Pathos did the same on his other side, and he smiled down at the both before shifting Mew in his grip a little and looking up the path, mind racing to connect pieces.

“ Alright guys...lets make ourselves a makeshift bag and gather as much food as we can. We got a long journey ahead of us.”

He just hoped he could make it before his friends did anything stupid to try and find him...

“ Patton this is a really serious problem. Shouldn’t you file a missing person report by now?” Patton sighed and poked at his food, food Viola persistently encouraged him to eat until he caved. He looked up at his friends and their understandably horrified expressions, both their eyes wide. Though Remy’s expression was quickly turning into anger, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“ I know...I know this is serious. Thomas is in town right now with Joan at the pokemon center....watching over the pokemon we couldnt heal here and reporting the attack to the police...and I want to file for a missing person...I really do...but with everything that happened what if Janus went to get Mew to safety? What if making his disappearance known puts him directly in Team Rocket’s sights and they go hunting for him? Theres just...there’s just too many what ifs and unknowns that we dont want to risk it...I know thats stupid but...” He sighed again and looked out the window.

“ Its also one of the only things keeping Remus from running off to search for Jay blindly. Hes...hes in a bad place right now, we all are, but he’s taking everything especially hard. He tried to run out last night and start searching the woods on his own...It took me, Roman, and Thomas everything we had to keep him in the house...I stayed up with him the rest of the night trying to reassure him jay would be back soon...and that helping out here would be what he’d want from us anyway...” Emile touched his hand tenderly.

“ He’s going to snap and go off on his own if he doesnt show up sooner or later Patton...you know this.” Pattons eyes flickered to Remy and he nodded, looking more exhausted and miserable than before. He was tired, drained, and sick with worries. But he and Thomas were the only things keeping everyone together, keeping them calmish and keeping them on track to getting everything put back together....Patton couldnt let himself break right now, not when he was responsible for keeping everyone else from breaking apart, not when Thomas needed his help and needed someone to lean on. He was one of the older ones here, he needed to be the strength they all needed.

“ I know...but that isnt going to stop me from trying to help him not, and give him whatever support Remus may need to make it through this rough patch.” His voice was tired, but firm and set. He sat up straighter and put his glasses back on with a stern, stubborn expression.

“ Its what my big brother would want from me...what Logan and Virgil and Thomas and Remus and Roman all NEED from me. So for now...we’ll file the report of the attack and repair and rebuild. We’ll help Virgil as much as we can, and we’ll keep this house welcoming for when Janus comes back.” Not if, when.

He couldnt accept any other alternative.

Maybe an hour later the two left promising to drop by tomorrow to help them rebuild more, as they wanted to go check on Thomas as well. Once the door shut Patton slumped heavily against it and stared at the ceiling before looking towards the backdoor, listening to the sounds of the boys working tirelessly amongst the sounds of pokemon chatter and grunts. His shoulders dropped and he didnt notice himself sliding down the door into a sitting position, nor did he notice his eyes tearing up as they drooped closed.

He didnt have time to sleep right now.

He had to help them with repairs...

...He just wanted his brother back and his friends to wake up....

.....Patton just wanted their normalcy back.....

Janus just wanted their normalcy back as he started up the mountain path grimly, looking back once towards his home before continuing resolvely. Because he couldn’t return until this was done.

End of part 2

Aaaaaaaand here it is! Part 2 is done!!

Wow this came out longer than I thought it would but I’m really happy with it none the less! I hope you guys like it so far! Part 3 to come soon!

Deceits on an journey and the others are trying to pick up the pieces, whatll happen next I wonder....( I promise it starts to get less angsty from here)

Taglist

@phantommoonpeople

@sweetsweetemo

@leesacrakon

@amazable01

@starbucks-remy

@jemthebookworm

@max-is-tired

@seriously-a-dragon

@sar-kasstic

@sugarglider9603

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