#feel free to leave in the replies or whatever ur answer because like. i want to know | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

raggaraddy · 4 years ago

Text

Sugar Daddy turned sour

Request: Hi!!!! read all of ur works its all amazing cant believe ur new.. can i request for a yan sugar daddy taehyung x reader x yan sugar daddy jungkook. they found out that that y/n have 2 sugar daddies and they lost their sanity(as if they even have that)...Thank u and YOU GOOD,KEEP GOING💜💞💞💞💞😘😁

A/N: I don't know how to post a reply to a personal message yet because I am new and Tumblr deficient 😅 But I hope you like the scenario ^-^ thanks for the request 💜

Here for Part 2

Summary: Juggling two guys and getting everything you want from them has always been easy for you, and Taehyung and Jungkook are no exception. Or so you thought.

Trigger warnings: Mentions of non-con, assault, cheating, violence.

Yandere! Taehyung

Yandere! Jungkook

Sunday. Taehyungs day.

You open your webcam, checking your eyeliner quickly in the startup view as you wait for the Tae to pick up on the other side. He pops up quickly a beaming smile filling his face.

“Y/n! Baby, I’ve missed you.” He’s radiant. As happy and as bubbly he always is.

You go along listening to him excitedly run through his past few days, telling you everything in excruciating detail as he jumps from one half-finished thought to another. He may be an adult but he certainly has a young soul. The whole while you feign attention, your fingers continually fidgeting with the diamond necklace or the matching bracelet he had sent you a few weeks back.

“How was your weekend?” He finally gets around to asking.

“Not so good. I always have to work so much," You complain, batting your eyes at the camera.

“You could always quit and come live with me.” He jokes-but not really. It’s a topic he has raised 3 times already. And you have the same answer ready as always.

“Daddy, you know I’m a strong and independent woman. I could never let someone else pay for me.” You pout, running your tongue over your lower lip while pushing your chest up a little to draw attention. “It’s just my rent is so expensive. I feel like I work just to pay the bills.”

In truth, your rent is already being covered by someone else. But he doesn’t need to know that.

While you continue to run through the fabricated details of your weekend, Taehyung is distracted, looking down at his phone. You know what's happening. It’s like a game. And you’re winning. Your banking app sends a notification, letting you know that K. Taehyung has just sent you a payment.

You open it up. Yep. That's rent for the month. Or more, money for that new TV you wanted.

“Oh! Daddy, noo.” You whine down the camera. “You can’t. I am okay. Really. Please don’t spend your money on me.” You frown if only to stop the smile that is fighting to fill your face.

“I want to baby. I have the money, and I just want you to be happy. Don’t stress about bills okay. I’m here.”

Sometimes, it’s almost too easy.

“Okay Daddy, if you insist.”

Tuesday. Jungkooks day.

With Jungkook it’s a much more straightforward transaction. He has said he wants to pay for you and he hates the back and forth pretences. He just wants you to say thank you, smile pretty, and give him all your attention.

“Do you need anything more for the week?” He asks through the camera.

“No Daddy, you take such good care of me. Thank you.” You smile.

“You still have the weekend of the 14th off?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively. Off-screen you quickly scan through your calendar.

14th, 15th and 16th: Jk weekend.

Hmm, that came up quicker than you expected. You try to keep your booty calls with them as far apart as possible.

“Of course, I’m so excited! I haven’t seen you in weeks.” You say, it been less than 100% truthful.

“Months.” He corrects with a surreptitious undertone.

“Where are we staying this time?”

You always insist to stay in hotels. Because ‘your apartment feels too busy and mundane, and you want the time you spend with him to be magical and undistracted’. Honestly, you just don’t want him, either of them, in your personal space. You purposefully chose boys who live a few hours away. It’s hard enough to keep them separated in your everyday life with them being far away. It could only get messy for them to know where you live and how to reach you in person.

You’ve certainly gotten smart at this. Arranging the two men into different days of the week, scheduling them into your calendar to keep them apart and unaware of the other. Both had specifically said very early on that they do not want to share you with anyone else. And that you were all theirs. And while both of them seemed to trust you, you knew their reactions would be unpleasant, to say the least, if they found out about the other.

Sugar Daddies can be so possessive.

But while both these men are very handsome, money is better and more reliable than boys. And if they are stupid enough to spend it all on you, why should you care.

The week passes quickly and it’s the 14th. Once more you find yourself in the lobby of a 5-star hotel. Jungkook arrived in town early and sent you a message with the room number.

Time to actually work for your money.

You knock on the door only to find it slightly open. Entering there is a trail of rose petals lining the floor leading into the suite. All the lights are dimmed with a warmth of candlelight filling the room. This is so typically Jungkook. Pulling out all the stops to try to impress.

Dropping your bag at the entrance, you close the door behind you and explore inwards.

“Daddy?” You call out in a singsong voice. Your heels clack on the tiled floor as you round the corner into the living room. Jungkook is sitting on the lounge, one leg crossed over the other, arms rested up over the back. You smile at seeing him. You always seem to forget just how stunning he is in person.

“Which one of us are you referring to?” A deep voice startles you from behind. You jolt, spinning to see Taehyung standing behind you leaning against the wall.

Holy fuck.

Your mind starts to jumble through what is happening. Thinking about what it was that might have given you away. Evaluating how much they may know. And planning your next move.

Damn it. You doubt you’ll be able to smooth talk your way out of this with Jungkook. He’s too direct and absolute. So you’ll just have to accept that that relationship is over. However, you might be able to salvage this situation with Taehyung if you play your cards right. Being defensive should do the trick.

“What is this?” You snap, keeping focused on Taehyung. “This is such a violation of my privacy! You keep smothering me Taehyung! See this is why I tried to find someone else to hang out with.” You stomp your foot. He would always wrap around your finger so quickly with the little girl act.

“Ha!” He blurts out a short laugh in contradiction to how you expected him to react. “Wow. No, go on. I want to see where this is going.”

“Do you think we only just found out about each other?” Jungkook pipes up, coming from the couch.

You sigh. You had almost saved enough for a holiday to the Maldives too. But they seem to know too much. Fine. You can burn both relationships. They were starting to get too clingy anyway. “Whatever.” You roll your eyes. You got all you could from them. Time to move on to the next.

As you shrug them off, Taehyung steps into the path of the front door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Both he and Jungkook start to close in tighter. There is a cold tone to his words. Something far too close to a threat for your comfort. Even in heels, both men naturally stand taller than you which usually wouldn’t bother you. But with an unsteadiness to your footing and a very short dress on, in a dark room with two men you have used and spurned, you are feeling even more vulnerable than you feel you should.

“Move.” You order.

A smirk on his lips, Taehyung lifts his hand up and backhands you, knocking you back a few stumbled steps. You gasp, your hand clinging to your cheek, eyes wide in shock. He starts forward, Jungkook intervening, standing between the two of you.

You can not believe he just hit you! He has never done anything like that before.

“No, don’t do that.” He stops Taehyung as he starts to swing again. Shaking all over, you’re relieved that one of them is seeing sense. You take the outstretched hand of Jungkook, lip trembling from the burn on your cheek. He draws you closer and you wrap into him for protection. In the same motion, his free hand swings down punching you in the stomach, doubling you over, dropping you to the floor. “If you hit her head, she might get spaced out. I want her to feel this.”

His words send a chill down your spine. This can not be happening.

“Are you crazy!” You gape, trying to speak while gulping down air. Your head is dizzy, your lungs burning. Kicking off your heels for better movement, you climb back up to your feet not wanting to engage either man. Eyes focused you look past Taehyung to the door, storming forward. “I’m leaving. We’ll forget all of this, okay.” You bargain through short, panicked breath.

Taehyungs large hand slams you into the wall, pressing his palm against your shoulder. He follows Jungkooks lead, pounding his fist into your gut. And then again. And again. His hold removes letting you free and you plummet to the ground, crying within broken huffs while cradling your battered torso.

“You’re right. That is better.” He laughs at Jungkook.

“Stop!” You beg, unable to raise your voice above a soft yelp.

“What's wrong baby? You wanted two men. Now you have them.” Taehyungs bright smile returns to his face. This time with an entirely different meaning than it had ever had until it shifts into a straight, harsh look that you have never seen from him. “Didn't you always say you wished there was some way you could repay me?”

“You said that to me too.” Jungkook joins his side, both hovering above you, trapping you between them, the wall, and the floor.

Leaning down Jungkooks hand follows you as you squirm away from him. His fingers wrapped around your throat and lift you up, keeping you against the wall. He takes advantage of you being stuck, leaning into you pressing his lips to yours as you resist as much as you can.

“Baby, you’re going to pay us back for every dollar we spent on you.” He snarls.

Taehyung turns your face to him, also forcing a kiss on you. “Don’t worry, Y/n, you’ll see that we know how to share.”

Part 2

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook #yandere taehyung #sugadaddy #cheating #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts #yandere #yandere bangtan #taekook #bts reactions #bangtan reactions #jungkook #taehyung

500 notes · View notes

cherrysha · 4 years ago

Text

Trust

hey ya’ll! Ive decided to answer asks in a new post, instead of continuing off of the asks. this is mostly because i answered like two seperate Uvo asks in one go. ALSO wanted to mention that i refer to the reader as ‘small’ in this one, and i by no means am small myself, its just that Uvo is 8 feet tall. Everyone is small to him, and everyone is capable of being manhandled by him. (also im going to use this gif of Uvo until the day i die)

@nav-chamberlain asked:

when you’re ready girl feel free to reply but nsfw scenario with uvo that has a breeding kink. y/n working her everyday tiring job as a babysitter/daycare worker & uvo being the kind himbo he is offers her a night out at the bar with them ending up drunk. y/n expresses her interest in possibly wanting a kid & uvo doesnt seem to decline. periodt.

@sug4r-ru5h asked:

hii!! i just found ur account and i really like ur writing🥺🥺maybe we could get some Uvo with a really twitchy reader after getting absolutely pounded??? im unsure if you write aftercare but if you do that'd be litty titty B)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Dubcon, drinking, breeding, overstimulation, a little blood, slight manipulation

“It’s not that I don’t want kids...I’m single, and younger.. ya know? I can’t think of trusting someone enough to have kids with them.” You pause, taking a sip of your drink before you whisper out a half hearted “if that makes sense.” Its not like you got to see your friend often, actually it was fairly uncommon to see him around. Whatever he did for a living, you still didn’t truly know, made him travel a lot. And you weren’t pressed on spending the majority of this evening debating about children. Uvo pushes the irritation simmering in his mind away. “You trust me, don’t you?” “That’s a dumb question Uvo” you finally peek up at his enormous figure, the scoff you had intended to let out, dying in your throat. Something Is brewing in his mind. He was never one to school his features, to hide the emotions he felt about truly anything. You're met with a glare, something akin to a smirk as well if it weren’t on Uvo’s menacing face. On him it looked more like a grimace “Then humor me.” His jaw is set tight as he lowers his head to speak directly into your ear “Do you trust me?” His lips brush against your neck, raising goosebumps in their wake and you can’t help the whimper that escapes you. This wasn't at all what you were expecting. You can’t help but to close your eyes and lean into his touch, and you can’t help but to acknowledge how warm his lips are when they finally press against your own. You know in part it’s the alcohol lowering your inhibitions and making you less inclined to think of the repercussions of kissing your long time friend. You know under normal circumstances you’d never be so brazen as to make out like a teenager in a packed bar full of scoundrels. But you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you don’t care. You want this. His hands snake around your waist, a low chuckle rumbling his chest at the startled way you jump when he finally pulls you onto his lap. “You gunna answer me sweetheart?” Uvo whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and you instinctively try to wrap your arms up to loop around his neck, pouting when you realize he’s far too tall As if reading your mind, he pulls you up further along the expanse of his chest until your arms can finally settle around his neck, grinning at your content smile. “I do, Uvo, you know that.” There’s a pause, a beat in which he uses the silence in his favor to pull back and ask “Hm.. do I?” with a wry smirk on his face. Of course, You nod ‘yes’ and you're rewarded with his nose brushing against the hollow of your throat, taking a deep inhale there before asking “what do I know?” The edge of the bar is digging into your back as Uvo presses himself around you. The smell of pine and a hint of his sweat all-encompassing until it feels like you’re breathing him in. Breathily, you answer him “I trust you Uv-“ Before you can finish his mouth is on yours again, nudging against yours so excitedly that your head is forced backwards. ”Good girl” its grunted out in between kisses, and in no time his tongue is invading your mouth, clouding your senses in a way that could never compare to the alcohol in your veins. When you let out a whine at his praise, at his hands, his mouth, his scent surrounding you, the bartender finally decides he’s had enough “Hey! Hate to break it to you both, but people are paying for drinks not a show” Uvo only growls, eyes still closed he parts from you to growl out a “Fuck off” before moving to place open mouthed kisses along your jaw. “C-can we leave, Uvo? ” its whisper quiet, but he still understand the message loud and clear. “Sure, doll.” He smiles, easily lifting you up as he rises to leave.

How easily he could break you. Hurt you in ways that are unthinkable, but the concept of that alone shakes him to his very core. He’s wanted this for so long, has had to deal with a deep ache in his chest at even the mere thought of you being so far away from him when he’d gone on missions with the troupe. When he rips your bottoms off, all you manage to do is whine and shyly try to cover yourself underneath him. With a gruff “stop” he pushes your hands to the side to finally see what he’s wanted for so long. You beneath him, desperate for him and him alone. His smile is almost manic as his hands roam your body. Uvos never had to have patience, has always taken what he wanted regardless of anything else. But your lust filled gaze, your body so warm underneath his wide palms is enough proof that this was worth waiting for. And god, does he want to take his time with you. Wants to taste and savor every little moan you give to him, but he’s a man on a mission. So, he hopes that he’s worked you up enough at the bar and the way back to make this go smoothly. with little effort he flips you onto your stomach, grabbing harshly at your hips before lining himself up and slowly pushing in. Soft and tight, he fucks into you like it’s his duty. Hips coming to slam against your ass with so much vigor, if it weren’t for his hands gripping your soft flesh he would’ve pounded you into the mattress a long time ago.

He lets out a low growl as he pictures you swollen, your hands rubbing over your pregnant stomach, it isn’t a want at this point. It’s a desperate need that punches the air out of his lungs with every mental image. Uvo lets out a groan as he takes time to truly think about it, to savor the idea of claiming you, even if it isn’t something you truly wanted. Even if it was never your intention to be with him, this rough coupling only sourced from your lowered inhibitions due to the alcohol. He pictures you being filled by someone other than him. Someone claiming you for the rest of your life when it was obvious that you belonged to him. The thought alone so maddening that he almost doesn’t hear the high-pitched yip that you let out. His grip on you had become a little too strong, a little too painful. Cooing, Uvo wraps an arm around your middle, slowing his pace down a bit as his other hand comes to pull you to his chest by your throat. Your body knocks against him a little harder than he intended, but the mewl that you reward him with at the change in position is enough to clear his mind from any troubled thoughts. It’s delicious, the sweat that beads down the column of your throat, so enticing that Uvo has half a mind to bite down. His only distraction being the little soft sighs and whimpers and chants of his name falling from your lips as he rubs against that spot inside of you. Its unintentional, the onslaught of stimulation he so dutifully sends you with every sharp press of his body to yours. His cock so big that he has no choice but to rub against every part of you. To fill you so completely that you can only think of him. “You trust me?” he asks again, teeth nipping the soft skin of your neck. He was trying to hold back, truly he was, but the prospect of marking up what was rightfully his was becoming a little too enticing. You release a series of whines, too fucked out to even begin to form a proper sentence. Uvo laughs at that. Something carefree and gentle, unlike the way he’s still holding you to his chest by the tight grip on your throat. “C’mon little one,” he urges, free hand coming down to settle on your clit. “Tell me you trust me so I can give you what you want, hm?” And with the words numbly falling from your spit slick lips Uvo gives in to the urge to breed your sopping pussy completely. To fuck and fill and keep until the day he fucking dies. With a euphoric laugh his hips once again move against you, your cries falling on deaf ears at the brutal new pace he’s set for you. Its dizzying, maddening, so fucking disorienting you don’t comprehend the sound of your own voice as the orgasm that rips from your body catches in your throat. You thrash against his iron hold, eyes rolled into the back of your skull as Uvo’s pace doesn’t falter. “You cryin for me sweetheart?” he asks incredulously. Surely you couldn’t be overwhelmed after cumming just once, right? In all honesty, he doesn’t know, but he hushes you with a kiss to the forehead, grunting out an “It’s alright” before slowly maneuvering your body down to the bed again, strong hands ensnaring your waist and holding your pliant body against his hips. Too tired to even pretend to hold yourself up any longer, he takes joy in the knowledge that this fuck will be the one that binds you to him forever. It should be downright infuriating how quickly he cums just after you. His hips stutter of their own accord, hulking body dropping to cover yours completely, he finally gives in to the urge to sink his teeth down. Your body jolts, a cry falling from your lips as Uvo mars the flesh of your shoulder, drawing blood that mixes with his spit to form a pink hue that drips down onto the bedsheets. Its enough to make his entire body tense in pleasure, wave after wave of pure bliss rocking through him as he releases inside of you. If he wasn't so drunk off of the feeling, he’d probably chuckle at the way your little body squirms beneath him, as if trying to simultaneously get away from the feeling and scoot your weakened form closer. But he can't. all he can do is focus on not crushing you as he ever so gently rolls onto his side, making sure to keep himself pressed snugly inside of you. His hand idly travels down your side, lost in the feeling of your soft skin underneath his coarse palm. The contrast is enough to make you shiver, whining his name as he gently fondles the plump flesh of your ass. Its enough to remind you of his cock still buried deep within you, its girth the only thing holding back the fluids that surely aren’t supposed to be inside. You try to scoot away, a slurred “Gotta clean up” ungracefully leaving your mouth, but Uvo doesn’t allow it. His arm is still wrapped snugly around your middle, and there’s no give as you try to wriggle out of his hold. he offers no reasoning, just a gruff “lay back down.” And you do. You do because the heat of his body curled around you is too enticing. The feeling of his lips pressed softly against the top of your head, and the even breaths that escape his throat are, ultimately, too comforting to leave. With a sigh you listen, relaxing into Uvo’s warm chest even further.

#uvo #Uvogin #uvogin x reader #hunterxhunter #reader insert

276 notes · View notes

planetsano · 4 years ago

Text

push and pull.

prompt: bakugou has been neglecting the reader because of work. she can't handle that because all she wants is love and attention.

warning(s): ceo!au, major sugar daddy vibes, aged up, hurt/comfort, f!reader, softie baku at the end.

pairing(s): bakugou katsuki x reader

You definitely felt like a spoiled brat. Walking around the Gucci store with a pout displayed on your glossed lips and nose held high like nothing in the vicinity was even close to being decent enough for you. Heels clicking lightly against the marbled flooring as you wandered around. This was such a drag. Your manicured finger lazily traced a handbag on a display table, it was probably worth someone's salary but you weren't interested. Your eyes were locked on the handsome blonde man pacing back and forth outside the big glass windows of the store. He was angrily speaking into the phone stopping ever so often to insult whoever was on the receiving end.

That— that stupid jerk is Bakugou Katsuki, your boyfriend, and he pinky promised to spend the day with you uninterrupted. Meaning no work calls, no emails, no boring paperwork— just you and him spending time together. He even promised to buy you that new handbag and the matching shoes you’ve been absolutely dying for but here you were in your current situation.

Recently, Bakugou has been incredibly busy with work but you couldn't exactly blame him. He was the CEO of a very successful multi-billion dollar company. But these past few weeks felt like you could never catch him not answering a business call or typing some boring email. Attempting to get one kiss from him always led you to be met with a dismissive wave of the hand as he answered the call. You knew it wasn't wise to bother him any further because he did have a temper. You’ve seen countless people on the receiving end of his rage and you didn't want to be met with it. Though it was sexy at times, you never liked upsetting him so you just left him alone. Always feeling deflated and discouraged as you opened up a tub of your favorite ice cream. Stress eating. This happened on multiple instances over the course of nearly a month. Quite frankly, you felt unwanted and it was driving you mad.

Walking around this store, there were so many beautiful and luxurious things, but your heart wasn't in it. Shopping wasn't much fun without his hand in yours giving you his opinions about how a dress or shoes would look on you, helping you zip up your dresses and sneaking naughty makeout sessions in the dressing room. Don't worry, you knew you looked pathetic. All pouty and woe as me. My rich boyfriend isn't giving me attention, life is so tough… you could laugh at yourself right now.

You missed him a lot but you were understanding… as understanding as you could be. You wondered if it was selfish to feel this nasty feeling pooling in your chest and stomach. Was it selfish to feel.. neglected? Was it selfish to want to have him all to yourself for just a day?

Was he.. losing interest in you? Was there someone else? Surely work couldn't take up that much of his time.. Did you upset him recently and didn't realize? Feelings of anxiety and nausea started to bubble up within you.. You didn't feel well at all and started to get sick to your stomach the more you got caught up in your thoughts. You wanted to leave. Now.

You hastily exited the store to find Bakugou. It looked like he was just about to come back in to find you, but you stopped him in his tracks. Almost immediately he noticed how drained you looked. Like there was something bothering you. He thought maybe some had said something rude to you but before he could react you spoke.

“Baby, can we go home? I don't feel good..” You looked up at him with a frown, your dainty hand resting on his chest.

The car ride back was quiet. Bakugou noticed your sudden change in demeanor causing him to take more than a couple glances at you in the passenger seat. Usually you'd be so bright and talkative, ushering him to sing along to whatever shitty song you had playing but you were radio silent. Maybe you actually didn't feel good? He would make ure to have his assistant buy you some medicine.

Men are so clueless..

“You ready?”

Your eyes averted their attention from your reflection to the handsome blonde casually adjusting his cufflinks behind you. He looked absolutely stunning standing there in an all black suit accompanied with a red tie. It not only complimented his eyes beautifully, but it matched your sparkly red gown as well. It almost pissed you off how he could be doing the bare minimum and still manage to look that good. But now wasn't the time to oogle. You came up with the conclusion that if he wanted to neglect you then you’d give him a dose of his own medicine. You ignored his presence and picked up your favorite highlighter and a brush, dusting your collarbones lightly to make them pop.

Bakugou walked a few steps closer and you continued to focus on your reflection in the mirror. He leaned over to plant a single kiss on the end of your shoulder, then made a trail of light and soft kisses along your shoulder blade, to the base of your neck and finally to that sensitive part of skin just below your earlobe. It took everything in you, plus more not to give in to his affections, but you desperately wanted to melt under him. You were so incredibly touch starved, especially these days. You missed him, but at the same time you were so upset with him. You couldn't just give in the moment he realizes you exist again. Fuck him. You were supposed to be angry. Not needy.

“You look fuckin’ amazing..” His voice was deep as he whispered into your ear. You closed your eyes tightly and sighed deeply, quickly getting up from your vanity stool and brushed past him, not even looking in his direction. You didn't get far before Bakugou grabbed your wrist and pulled back towards him fully closing the gap between you two and secured an arm around your waist making sure you weren't going anywhere.

God, you could feel him staring a hole into your head as you looked off to the side avoiding eye contact at all costs. You just couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You’d break.

Bakugou grabbed your face with his free hand forcing you to look at him, temporarily squishing your cheeks and making your lips go into a kissable pout. His harsh crimson gaze was locked onto your doe like eyes making you feel incredibly vulnerable and shy. You hated the power he had over you. Something as simple as eye contact making your ears and cheeks flare up in the color red. The thoughts and emotions from earlier coming back all at once threatening to make you sick all over again.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He asked bluntly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and irritation from your behavior. He could see something was bothering you and it was pissing him off that you weren't talking to him.

“Nothing.. I promise..” You replied. “I'm happy! See?” You forced a smile on your face as Bakugou watched your bottom lip quiver and eyes water as you tried to pathetically convince him you were fine all while looking like a kicked puppy.

“You’re a shit liar. You're about to fucking cry.” Bakugou’s hand shifted to cup the side of your face. You leaned into the warmth of his hand

“Tell me what's wrong.” His voice was still blunt and expression still stern. He never wants to see you like this. Sure, you got upset or even bratty from time to time but he's never seen you in this state and it worried the fuck out of him.

“I-I.. I just-!” You struggled to find proper words to convey how you felt. His thumb rubbed your cheek gently somewhat calming you down and keeping you from hyperventilating.

“Breathe.” His voice and expression softened upon seeing you teary and vulnerable.

“I just miss you!” You blurted out. Bakugou looked down at you with his brows furrowed in confusion.

“You're so busy with work you seem to forget I exist, I don't say anything because I-I’m proud of you and I want you to be successful! I understand you're very busy but.. but is it too much to ask for thirty minutes of your time? Katsuki, I miss spending time with you-” Bakugou watched you pour out all your emotions and thoughts like word vomit.

Guilt hit him all at once like a fucking train seeing you crying because of him. He was the reason you felt like this and he wanted to punch himself in the face for not noticing how unhappy you were sooner. He did admit that work seemed to be the only thing he’s been about lately. Neglecting his love life, his friends, his family, maybe even his own health. Even holding you this close made him realize that he hasn't been.. this close in proximity to you in a while. He fucked up.

“I-Is there someone else? Is that it? My hair.. I can change it if you'd like. Do you still love me? I-” That was the final straw for him. He cut you off with a swift kiss to the lips. It surprised you but you almost immediately moved your lips into sync with his. The kiss was sloppy and too many emotions fueled it, but the most prevalent one was want.

Bakugou’s heart ached hearing your words. Of course he still loved you. Everything about you was perfect in every way, there was no way on Earth he would lose you over some random extra that probably only wanted him for his money and last name. The fact that you were so.. willing to change for him to make him happy because you were so in love seemed so... wrong. He thought that if anything he should be the one trying to make you happy. He couldn't give a fuck whether your hair was long or short, curly or straight, he loved you regardless. Your appearance was never a factor in his feelings for you. Only a bonus.

He pulled away from your lips suddenly and looked at you. Your eyes were puffy, mascara was running and your lipstick was smeared but you still looked beautiful. It was a look he particularly liked but, it was not under these circumstances. You were usually on your knees.

“Don't say stupid things like that.” Bakugou started.

“..I'm so shit at relationships..” He struggled with his words and you could see it in his face. He wasn't ever one to express how he felt.

“‘m sorry for treating you like a fucking stranger.. you know I love you. No one else could even hold a fucking candle to you, that shouldn't even be a thought in this pretty fucking head of yours.” He sighed.

“I don't fucking care about how your hair looks.. I only care about you.” He finished.

Your crying stopped at some point when he was speaking and you were only met with soft hiccups. Bakugou wiped the final few tears from your cheeks and left a kiss on your forehead.

“Stop crying over me. I'm not worth it.” He whispered against your skin. For some reason his words shocked you. Not worth it? You thought was worth all your tears plus more, what was he on about? Did he really think he wasn't good enough for you?

“You don't say stupid things like that either. You're worth all the good things in the world.” You said softly. Bakugou’s heart fluttered at your words and he almost felt himself blush. There was a comfortable silence before you spoke up again.

“Oh no,” You looked at the time. “We're going to be late to the event and I look atrocious” You looked up at him with a pout.

“Fuck it. They'll be fine without us. Those bastards are annoying as hell anyway.. Let's get dinner, yeah? You can pick where we go.” Bakugou proposed and you smiled.

“Let's go.” You stood on your tippy toes and planted a kiss on his lips.

a/n: I hope you guys enjoyed this! For only 2k+ words I feel like I took forever to write this. I just wanted it to be up to standard.. feedback would be amazing. Also, my requests are open! Thank you for 100 followers! ❤️

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagines #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki imagine #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia imagines #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou

1K notes · View notes

fweasleyswhore · 4 years ago

Note

hello! I have a headcannon request, the reader is best friends with Draco and they do everything together, but she's dating Fred (maybe Draco gets jealous of her spending more time with him now?)

a/n: oOoOoOooO yes bb also thank u for all ur requests and support, this was fun and cute hehe

ok so you're in slytherin

kinda family friends with draco but got more involved with each other as school started

caught a certain weasley's eye because although you love him draco could be a dick

and you weren't afraid to tell him

usually you pulled him away from starting a fight with the weasley's or harry

and sometimes when you got really annoyed with him you would ask for peeves help in pranking him

this usually led to a fight between you two

"y/n, are you mad?! i'm soaked and for what? to honor the weasley's name?!"

"you know thats not why draco."

"you know what y/n, i'm not going to deal with a blood traitor."

"they are purebloods, but thats besides the fact, you've lost your damn mind draco."

"they are! by association!"

draco would storm off into the common room, although his words stung you weren't bothered, he only said those things because his pride was hurt

he would apologize

he always did

"h-hey y/n, i wanted to thank you."

looking up you saw fred weasley, one of the eldest weasley brothers, hands shoved in his pockets, a small red tinge on his cheeks

"hello fred, don't thank me. i didn't do it for you."

fred would be astonished you could tell him apart from his twin but he pushed it down

its because you thought he was rather attractive

you would never admit it though

"then why?" he was bewildered you would defend his entire family then claim something like that

"draco knows better than to drag you guys down on something as silly such as how much money yout family makes. hes priviledged, extremely so, and he knows better." you woukd reply.

"so you did it out of pity?" fred asked.

you furrowed your eyebrows at that, confused how he even got there

"no you idiot im a decent person!" you yelled

"i-i didn't know-"

"yeah well there's a lot you don't know about me."

storming off you left fred even more confused than before

from then on you consumed all of his thoughts

he watched you endlessly, the way you interacted with your friends, but mainly how you took care of them

you always checked in with people from your house, some you weren't close too

helped people study or let them vent when they were upset

and you told them off when they needed it

fred picked up on all of these, and although you were extremely caring that didn't stop you from pulling pranks

whether they were neccessary (like with draco) or not and just for fun it made fred all the more enthrawled with you

one day after setting trip wires all around mr. filches office you were running through the halls when you bumped into someone

stepping back you looked up finding fred weasley

he was in a similar state to you, flush face, wide eyes, and heavy breaths

"why, are, you?" you panted out, swallowing between words

"snape, you?" he asked similarly.

"filch."

the smile that spread across his face was contageous

he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a side corridor you didn't know existed

you didn't fight, instead you welcomed his touch and followed him blindly

finally you were thrown backward, blinking rapidly you were chest to chest to fred im a small damp broom closet

"why-"

your words were cut off by fred placing his hand over your mouth, nodding towards the door you heard to pairs of footsteps- snape and filch

you both stood there, freds hand over your mouth as you strained to hear their conversation

fred slowly lifted his hand "i think its safe."

"i hope."

fred walked you back to the slytherin common room, you were confused at first but didn't mind the company

especially when it was so hot

you talked the whole way there, finding that you had more in common than you thought

when you reached tye enterance you stood there not wanting to leave

"hey, i know this is kind of crazy to ask but will you come with me to hogsmead this weekend?"

"are you asking me on a date weasley?"

your cheeks were warm and your smirk made him nervous of what he felt was impending rejection

"well it doesn't ha-"

"yes." you cut his words off with a simple answer catching him off guard. "meet me here at 8?"

he was wordless, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, finally he nodded, blushing lightly

leaning up you kissed him on the cheek, an action that made the light rosy hue of his cheeks to darken

"goodnight freddie."

"n-night."

turning on your heel you went into the common room, excitement clouded your senses so much you didn't notice your blonde best friend standing there with his jaw on the floor

"you are not going on date with weasley!"

"i am!" you sang back to him

"but-"

"nope you are my friend and you are going to be happy for me."

he looked at you for a moment like there was more he wanted to say until finally

"fine, whatever." finished off with a roll of his eyes

"oh! don't worry you aren't going to lose me baby."

rushing over to him you threw your arms around him pulling him down to your height

"y/n..." he grumbled

"no no, don't worry i understand, i won't let my redhead steal me away from you."

although your tone was teasing it soothed draco

he was nervous

and oddly upset although he couldn't place why

the weekend couldn't come soon enough

you were estatic

draco was, conflicted

he was happy you were happy buy upset it was fred of all people taking you

fred made good of his promise, he was outside the slytherin common room at 8

"hi freddie!" you greeting warmly

"hey love."

"don't. hurt. her." draco said from behind you

he loomed in the enterance, watching you walk away like an angry vampire

the hogsmede date was wonderful

and so was the next one

and the one after that, and the one after that

soon enough you and fred were official and you spent most of your free time together

coming back from a late night adventure you stumbled into the slytherin common room, you felt fred's lingering touch still on you, leaving you feeling on fire in the best way

"have fun?" came angry voice on the couch

draco was sitting, hunched over himself, head in his hands

"draco, whats wrong."

rushing to his side you stroked his back, something he immediately relaxed into

"why am i not good enough?"

his voice cracked, and it broke your heart

"draco you are, you are everything to me."

"don't lie!" he snapped

"i'm not!" you shot back.

"then how come i never see you anymore?"

you thought back on the last month and a horrible realization struck you

you had been pushing him aside, you spent all your free time in the gryffindor common room, no wonder he felt horrible

"i- draco," your voice was cut off with a sob and you pulled him into your arms

he was stiff and slow to relax and return your affections but you didn't care

"i am so sorry, i love you and i don't want you to feel like i am choosing him over you."

"you mean that?"

"of course i do, and if you ever feel this way again tell me."

"i will."

the next month was fun although a tad awkward

fred agreeing to hang out in the slytherin common room sometimes so you could introduce him to your friends

they mostly got along

a few times you conviced draco to accompy you and fred to hogsmeade with friends

it was awkward but they soon loosened up to each other

harry eyed draco like any second he would lash out

it made draco want to lash out but he didn't

for you

and even though there was weird tension following you through the shops you were never happier

because on one arm you had your boyfriend and on the other you had your best friend

#fred and george #fred weasley #weasleys wizard wheezes #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fluff #weasley twins #harry potter #fred weasley fic #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy headcanon #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter characters #harry potter fanfiction #ask

250 notes · View notes

by-kilian · 3 years ago

Note

(if this ask makes u uncomfortable in any way, feel free to ignore it, delete it, whatever u need to do. ur happiness matters more to me than anything else. however, i am specifically sending this not on anon, despite my incessant urge to do so as i barely ever send off anon, to give u the chance to reply to this privately if u want to. but that is if u want to! i don’t need, or want, anything from u. ur comfort outweighs any sort of recognition or interaction. i am also extremely unsure if this is gonna send properly bc i am on the tumblr app n the character limit seems to be nonexistent now? when did this happen HAHA…)

i went looking for u (scrolled thru the keyword of ur old user on tumblr, found an older ask that includes it) bc That App is talking abt That Story again. it always troubled me how things went down - i’ve experienced writers taking down their works before but never like that. orphaning works, sure. deleting ao3s, yep. but NEVER thru what u went thru. i don’t even generally go here (here being x readers), but That Story got pushed my way when the whole situation was in its hayday n i never properly paid attention to things until i caught wind of what u had to do. i had no idea it was that bad until maybe a week after the situation had been over n done with by ur actions. n i don’t blame u in the slighest. fandom culture is both extremely fun n extremely damaging - the fact u got the shortest end of the stick that i’ve ever seen is truly smth awful.

all of that aside, i am so extremely overjoyed to see ur still writing. truth be told, i hadn’t known of u before That Story, since again, my aversion to x readers. but ur writing is clearly smth special - n maybe this is extremely crude to say, i’m extremely sorry if it is - considering the way ppl acted over it. above it all, i am just happy to see that ur ok. everything is fine, as much as it can be. that fact alone leaves me content. i am SO glad u were able to push past it.

tldr, since i know this is a lot. i am so happy to see ur still kicking it, despite it all. content creation in any form is deeply personal if u put ur heart into it, n it seems like u do. i am so sorry for the way ppl treated u over That Story. i am doubly sorry if this made u feel upset in any way, shape, or form. that was not my intent, feel free to do whatever it is u need to do with this silly ask if this is the case. n maybe this is corny, but i hope more things fall in ur favor, instead of otherwise. have a nice day!

This is actually a really kind and considerate ask. I'll answer it under a cut since my response is pretty long though!

Firstly, I just want to say thank you for being thoughtful enough to consider my feelings in all of this. It's really kind of you and I'm not saying that just to say it. ❤️

Secondly, yeah. It all was a bit of a hell fire. While I wish it never happened, it obviously did but I'm happier now than I was then. Even before ThatStory blew up, my old writing blog was getting out of control and people were feeling super entitled to me, my works, what I did, and who/what I wrote about so in a way, I'm not surprised it headed that way although I never expected it to go THAT way lol. And yes, it was pretty bad but luckily it is done and over with. Fandom culture can be super fun and that's initially what it was for me--just fun before it unfortunately tipped over to the other extreme side of fandom which is toxic. It is what it is.

But to touch on your main point, thank you and it's not crude at all. I don't see your comment that way. In a way, I've come to think of it as much as well (that it must have resonated with people in some weird way) but not just with that particular story but other stories, too so it is really sweet that someone who doesn't read these kinds of stories thinks that of them as well. It also means a lot to me that someone cared enough to think about how I was doing after all this because that really hasn't been the case apart from loyal readers. Most ppl never think about me in this situation 😂 which is probably why what happened, happened. So thank you for the kind words. I'm fine. Like I said, happier now than I was in my previous blog. I've come to think that it's all meant to be. I get a lot more freedom here, I have the sweetest, most loyal readers, and no one feels entitled to my works, my time, or what I do.

Also you didn't upset me at all. While it's admittedly irritating to see people still talking about that shit a literal year and three months or so later, that has nothing to do with you so no worries. I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to check up on me, and thank you for being so kind. Content creation is super personal and I do put my heart into it, so it means a lot to me that you see that 🥺! Truly.

I'm touched that there are still kind, good, decent people out there because for you to take the time to look for me and send me something lovely truly means a lot, especially considering you weren't necessarily a reader of mine--just clearly a kind, thoughtful human being. I can't express how much I appreciate it. Honestly. Thank you so so much for the lovely sentiments, and I hope all is well for you in the future as well. ❤️❤️❤️

#asks

8 notes · View notes

savorysatori · 4 years ago

Text

— FEATURING: ˗ˏˋ 𝘾𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙔 𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇! ˎˊ-

“You gon’ meet a billion hands, ooh. She’s just like candy, she’s so sweet, but you know it ain’t real cherry.”

— SYNOPSIS. cutie pie were you? doting too. you stood out, he knew you. hinata adored you. his lil’ candy girl from his love-filled heart.

WARNINGS. car sex, creampie, full nelson. exhibitionism, lots of cum, unprotected sex. slight gagging, tiny bit of anal said, spit play. guitarist!hinata, a bit of cunt spanks, producer!reader. praise + suckin fingers, aheago face, oral. use of the pet name, “cherry”.

% WORD COUNT. 5.3k.

leader’s notes. HIIII! HELLO! before I say anything, big thanks to my lil cheri for letting me join this wonderful collab! ur the sweetest babe, and I hope you all enjoy this<3 pss- wanna listen to music while reading this? here’s a playlist!

✭ @loveatsutani, ROLLING LOUD COLLAB. MWAH!

You were both hazy under the buzzing of fluorescent lights. Flash after flash it drew you and him closer together, drowning out the cries of the crown from below. Starstruck. Heart eyes with adoration flooding through the both of you. “A lil’ dumb are we?”

“And, that’s it folks! Make your way to the exit of the building to your right. Amazing night wasn’t it everyone? Give props to Shoyo!”

The sound of the intercom fell deaf to Hinata's ears. His guitar slumped down against his chest, hot and sweaty with the tee sticking to him. He couldn't hear himself think. His fingers writhed along the strings as if the notes he plucked could somehow find him again. His eyes searched the crowd of musicians, trying to find one face in the sea of faces. Yet, as he looked at them all, there was nothing but blank stares and half-smiles. He didn't know what he was expecting; seeing you come in with a smile that lit up everyone’s gloomy mood. Maybe you would have congratulated him on his performance. Or maybe you would have given him some encouragement. Or maybe, just maybe, you would have laughed and teased him a bit. Didn't matter, he was glad to see you.

You were a lone woman in a long orange dress standing on the edge of the stage, fanning yourself. You waved to the crowd now and then, but your eyes were glued to him as you walked by.

"Don't get distracted, now." Swiftly your eyes moved down to the rows of empty seats before they darted back up to him. "I can only imagine how long this song took to learn."

His fingers strolled across the strings, creating a beautiful melody. His eyes looked up to the dimming lights now and then as if seeking divine guidance from above. "Most performers here can't play worth a damn," you heard him mutter, his eyes still on his fingers as they worked. He played for you as if you were the only one in the room. The only one who could hear the song he was composing. You sat in awe, watching his fingers dance across the strings. You knew he was capable of such skill, you've heard it all. Thou, freestyles like this could only make you grin in awe. But this was a private concert. You had no choice but to sit quietly and enjoy the performance. His fingers stopped on a string, catching in the middle, an echo of the melody ringing through the silence.

"The saddest sound," you heard him say as he slid his fingers off the strings.

You were about to clap, but he waved his hand for silence. "I'd rather have you hear the rest of that crap with you all bubbly." He sat up and began clapping softly to encourage you. You couldn't help but laugh at how adorable he was. At this time you could have left. With the way things were going, he'd compose more songs just for you. But then he wouldn't have to share this moment with you.

"Hinata, rolling loud is in a few days .. let's get to work." You pushed away the scatted papers of all the same lyrics, meaning the same thing. They were scattered all over the floor, on him and directly on you. You wiped the traces of sweat and some sort of strange fluid from your forehead. Still, he was smiling.

"I know, cherry. Ya don’t have to remind me every day.” You heard him chuckle as he turned back to his guitar, stringing it back up with familiarity. He sat there for what seemed like an eternity as the silence consumed you. Biding your time, you could finally talk to him at any moment. "Ahem… so what's that?" You pointed to the sheet of music in his hands.

You were much better at those games, but he won anyway.

"Do you want to hear it?" He stopped playing, waiting for your reply.

You gulped as you nodded slowly. Anything to hear his songs again. You weren't sure how long the silence lasted, but it seemed to stretch on forever. You felt his fingers running up and down the neck of his beloved guitar. He stopped, and you braced yourself for the upcoming melody. Slowly he began playing. It started as just a few notes, a gentle intro to the song. But those notes carried a feeling of their own, slowly building with every pass. His hands caressed the strings as he played, his face was scrunched up in concentration. He was playing just for you.

It felt as if the whole room was just you two. His fingers dancing across the strings, you swaying side to side as you rocked in your office chair. The song ended, as did your trance. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You looked back down, hoping he hadn't seen the wide-eyed expression you were sure you had on your face. You could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke again. "Do you like it?"

For a moment, you were transported to a place unknown to you. You felt free as if held by strong hands and transported through the skies. Lifting you, your stomach fluttering as you soared. It was beautiful.

But, it was a place never to be reached again. You knew that anywhere you looked, you would only see the world as it was now. Sadly, but it had to be like that. His fingers continued to pluck at the strings, keeping you from escaping through his music. You wanted to stay here, in this world he had created for you. But, you knew that place was only ever a memory. only ever a memory. Your thighs bouncing as his fingers ran across the last string. The song had come to an end, and you were left wanting more.

"Why don't you," reached over, hands sliding to tap against his slender fingers playing along the dainty strings. "Play that again?"

As if in a trance, Hinata faced you.

Holding your gaze, his thigh slipped between the gap of yours — pulling you closer. You could feel his breath on your cheek as his eyes bore into yours. He slowly began playing the intro again, only this time before he had finished, his head was flush to yours. Your noses were less than an inch apart. His breath blew warm against your cheek, you could smell the sweet citrus from the tip of his tongue, the lollipop stayed laid against his cheek, his fingers running along the backs of your hands. His warm lips kissed you. Not on the cheek, but your mouth. His luscious, red lips brushed softly against yours. Your eyes widened before you closed them. His hand moved from your shoulder to your cheek, as he tilted your head.

His lips caressed yours. His tongue lightly teased the seam of your lips, before delving in. The lollipop being passed between both mouths, the nectar spilling down at the side of your lips. tongues dueled, as you tilted your own to caress his. Your other hand fell to his shoulder as you held him closer. He tilted his head further, and you matched it with a small tilt of your own. His hand ran through your hair, as his tongue dueled with yours. You could feel your heartbeat against his lips, the blood flowing through your body.

You wanted more of him.

His lip pulled at your lower lip, causing you to whimper in protest. He ignored it, pulling the trapped flesh between his front teeth. He bit down gently, a slight pain shooting through you in the most sweetest way. The sweet taste of his lips lingered on your tongue, as your mind was left awash with sweet colors. Hinata pulled away, a faint blush on his cheeks. He pulled the lollipop from your mouth, watching the string of spit slide with it. He held it between his fingers, before popping it back into his mouth with a beam.

"You taste sweet, cherry."

He smirked at you, as his fingers played along the strings of his beloved instrument. "And I bet you taste even sweeter down below, right under my fingertips."

His eyes never leaving the instrument, he slowly ran his hands up your legs. You knew what he was doing, he was trying to get you into a compromising position. But, you didn't care. Maybe it was the sweet taste of your lip that still lingered on your mind, or maybe it was because you never had these types of thoughts about someone you built from the bottom to the top. Whatever the reason, you didn't care, and you wanted him to continue. He slowly lifted your knee onto his thighs. The other leg followed suit, as he situated himself to be able to lie under the both of you. His fingers ran up the back of your calf, as his face came into close range with yours.

"Hinata," you barely above a whisper, “We should be..”

"Shh." he placed a finger against your lips. "Just enjoy the moment." His free hand reached between your shoulder blades, cradling you as he laid you down. His face moved forward just enough that his lips brushed against yours as he spoke. "Does it feel good?"

The wetness between your legs pulsed as his fingers lifted your shirt up and rubbed against your bare skin.

"Tell me when."

You couldn't speak, no more than you could move. You were overwhelmed with sensation that gripped at your stomach and threatened to make you weak. His fingers teased your stomach and slipped under your dress, as he dragged his face down to nuzzle into your neck.

"Can you feel that?" he murmured, as he ground his hips into yours. You couldn't answer him, your mouth wouldn't move. It just was a feeling that had taken over your whole body, clenching and releasing at intervals.

"Do you want to feel more of it?" You wanted to yell yes, but you were starstuck. you couldn't utter anything other than a pitifully small whimper. He bit down on your shoulder, as his fingers slipped the dress off of you, clicking to the band of your panties. “Answer me, cherry.”

"Ye- yes." You didn't want him to stop, not then.

The breeze night wind blew across your body, as it began to grow colder. You couldn't feel your limbs, couldn't move them. All you could do was feel, at that moment. He tore the panties off with his teeth, as they stuck to you like a second skin. He lifted his head for just a moment, as he pulled the shreds of clothing off your body. You were left bare before the moon and him, just your purity in the beauty of youth. "Hinata..."

He lifted your knee onto his shoulder. His hands wrapped around your waist as he dipped his head down, his lips running along the inside of your thigh. You couldn't hold back any longer, a strangled cry escaping your lips as you gripped onto his hair. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your most intimate flesh, and the vibrations that ran through it. He began to suckle on it, swirling his tongue around it and teasing the entrance with the tip of his tongue. You could feel the orgasm overtaking you, and you were helpless against it. Your body tensed up in another wave of shuddering before it finally passed, covered in a rash of wet heat. Afterward, you laid there pathetically weak in the aftermath of your pleasure. You felt limp as a ragdoll, as your body pulsed with waves of pleasure. You couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't speak.

He made his way back up your body, stopping to lick himself off as he went. When he reached your lips, he planted a chaste kiss on them before saying, "You taste good." He smiled at you, grinning as he stood up from the couch, taking the guitar as well but leaving you to collect each thought tapping against your skull. Hinata made your heart swell, for your body to thump when he was near. Tousled orange hair to gleam with his brown eyes, widened with surprise. Hands as pale as moonlight to grasp at air, body limp and weak from having had its will defied. But bright smile to row the crowds awake, his skill and his willpower.

He was sheer beauty. He was the sun. Hinata wooed you, as you swam in the emotion of his voice. You were entranced by his presence and his voice. With every note he plucked, you could feel the strings of your soul being strummed. Your own gentle, quiet voice reverberated at his concerts, as you felt the energy flood through you. He filled your chest with joy, your heart swelling as you heard him sing the songs you made him. You never wanted it to end, the two of you performing under candlelight.

All too soon, the end came.

The curtain fell, and you found your place among the workers backstage. On the stage, you could see him, in all his glory. His strong, slim arms weaved above his head as he pushed down, the strings of his electric guitar reverberating as he let out a long, slow breath through his white teeth. He stared into the crowd with a flinty gaze, as his hair fell into his eyes. When he looked to the side, pushing it aside with a smooth of the wrist, his eyes caught yours for a brief moment. He gave you a quick wink before returning to his stare into the crowd. Your chest swelled as he performed, his voice and the music lifting your mood. Your cheeks tinged with color as you watched his performance with a smile stretching from ear to ear.

He was pure energy, powerful, and sure of himself as he tore through the songs you knew and made you feel things for the first time. Electric guitar to scream the high notes of the songs, as he vibrated the strings into breaking. To pound the snare drum with a fury that could only be matched by your own. To tear through the notes of the songs with deadly accuracy, as he made you feel every emotion possible through music. He held you spellbound, as he moved with the music and changed before your eyes. He was a whirlwind, a breath of fresh air in a dreary world. It all felt so familiar to you, to see him there. But for him as well — to see you backstage watching his performance, just how doting you were. Hinata adored you, a girl he felt love struck from.

You, the only one who knew what his music meant to him. His beaming smile and twinkling eyes were just playacting for the crowd's eyes, but you knew what he was really like. The strumming from the guitar with the claps of the drums, the flashing of the lights, and the roar of the crowd all made you feel alive. He moved with the music, a single entity with the sound as it became one with him. You were part of that sound, as you let go of everything and drowned in the music.

With a sudden, unexpected burst of energy, he jumped off the stage and into the crowd. Hands raised in the air and screaming as the fans gave him around. The pounding of the music was all that filled your mind, all that aired on your lips. The world had lost its meaning, you were in heaven. The screams of the fans were all that reached your ears, their adoration and love for him making your smile. The screaming chorus of his name was the only thing that made you feel joy, as you waved your arms and danced in the throes of passion. The lights were bright, but you felt no pain. Your mind was set at ease, only filled with the drumming of the bass. Every single one of you stared hard, leaning forward to see Hinata strum the guitar, fingers twanging over the strings as he moved in time with the music, his head thrown back let out a loud laugh. He was alive, filling you with warm fuzzies inside. He was a part of the moment, moving with the music, lost in the crowd.

The lights flashed and the roar of the crowd was deafening, but you hardly noticed. All you could see was him, his shining mane of hair captured by the neon lights, creating a halo around his head. It was so beautiful, so fitting for the moment. It made you wanna be near him, to feel the ting between the both of you.

The sparklers shot up from the last note, the fans erupting in screams of joy. Applauding his performance widely, running onto the stage to see his sweet smile. His eyes met with yours and you felt your heart flutter for just a moment. He took a long look at you, your body bathed in glittering stars. You were both hazy under the buzzing of fluorescent lights. Flash after flash it drew you and him closer together, drowning out the cries of the crown from below. Starstruck. Heart eyes with adoration flooding through the both of you.

You were in the spotlight. "A lil’ dazed, yeah?” he whispered, flashing a grin. You felt the blood rush through your ears, the beat of your heart pulsating through your veins.

"Let’s sneak away. For a bit.”

The curtains draped to hide you both, instruments placed down with padding of you and Hinata's feet, traveling from door to door till the crips breeze washed over you both. Slipping into the sleek car, staring into your eyes. The lights shined on your face, illuminating every feature of yours. You looked familiar under the lights, so beautiful. One might think you were an angel, sitting here next to him.

His hand rested on yours, sending your heart into a tailspin. You felt zero fear as he brushed his thumb softly over your skin. His fingertips grazed the base of your ring finger, a tingling sensation running through you. As he looked down at your hand, you saw his pupils dilate and flush as his breath caught in his throat. This, this was a moment. No chatter. No speaking. Only the sounds of gasps, desire from the both of you. Hands that span both of your faces, as he pulled you into him. His lips pressed against yours, strong and bold. Tasting sweet and sinfully delicious. Your eyes opened slowly, the haze cleared from your vision. Pulling apart, you stared deeply into the pools of brown that were his eyes. Passion filling them, you were at his mercy. You couldn't find it in you to resist, instead, you helped him dispose of his tee.

You heard his sharp inhale, but you made no sound. It was only the start. His hands drifted over your skin, fingers entwining with yours as he laced his fingers around your wrists. It was only as he tugged them over his head and pressed your arms back against the seat that you realized what he wanted. He kept your hands down, his mouth now working on your neck. Tongue swirling, teeth nipping, kissing all the right places. You couldn't find it in you to stop him. He had your full attention, and you couldn't fight him off, the haze of passion clouding your thoughts. The lights strobe and flicker, an anthem to the music his mouth was making as he sucked and licked, driving you into a mindless frenzy.

You want him, you can't get enough of him. His mouth was magic on your skin. Your heart raced as his tongue swirled around your fingers, the lights flashing strobe light after flash of white and yellow. You wanted more, you needed him. You were a puddle of liquid desire, a mess of lust that was on display for all to see. You wanted to be filled, he was only the one to do it. His mouth opened as he spoke your name, his lips brushing against your ear. You were at his mercy, and he wanted to give you bliss. Clothes shed, his hands running along your bare stomach, fingers clasping at the back of your neck, pulling your head back to expose your throat, the lacy ichor of your lingerings laying in a sweet crust upon your skin. The flair of his fingers moved to spread the lips of pussy, exposing the entrance but not touching it. His hands swept back, tilting your head and angling your mouth for his lips to cover.

"I want you to watch me, ’mmkay?"

You couldn't manage anything but a moan into the feverish air, the skillful fingers twisting into your slick warmth. He slid one finger into the tight ring of muscle, searching for the one spot that would make you see stars. Your head fell back as he found the spot, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You were nothing but a slack-jawed puppet as his fingers continued to dance upon your clit. He found it all too easy to make you shake and squirm, his name a mantra upon your lips. He moved the first one, then a second finger into your slick heat. Twisting his fingers in quick flicks and deliberate swirls that had you going wild.

He looked up, catching your eyes as he played upon your clit. He knew just how to get you going, he knew your body better than anyone. He curled his fingers into a circle, massaging the spot just inside your walls. Your body shook, your vision darkening as he continued to work you up into a frenzy, your whole body stiff and unmoving. His fingers vacated you, and were only replaced by the warmth of his lips as he pressed them against your ear.

"Keep makin' a mess, cherry." He admonished, glistening juices shined all around his fingers, slimy ichor trickling down the inside of your thigh as he waved it under your nose, his tongue snaking out to lick the sweet nectar off his fingers. You felt sick and weak at your knees, you could only watch as he maneuvered you to open your mouth. He wagged the fingers under your nose, the taste of your filth filling your nostrils as you wanted nothing more than to taste it. On instinct you let your tongue peek out, licking up the ichor that dripped from his fingers, taking up every bit of drop before it melted away.

Pleased with your efforts as you felt more of his fingers sliding into your mouth, your tongue licking and rolling around them. He withdrew his fingers, placing them to the side as he brought them closer to his face, wiggling his fingers. You couldn't speak, too stunned that he was playing with your mouth like a puppet as he inspected his fingers. You had felt shame to the fullest, cum and saliva coated your mouth, and yet, he was proud of you. His hands clasped around your waist, you were situated in his lap, cock turgid and up against your stomach, the head of him hot and slick in the soiled pants. You were all ready to take him inside you, and yet, the foreboding of his cold touch lit a fire under your skin.

"Look at you... so fuckin' pretty. So good though, yeah?" He asked as he began gently rubbing your stomach and hips, your skin hypersensitive from your earlier contact. The dirty talk, the emasculation, and the promise of pleasure if you said yes. It was too much, and you felt yourself nodding eagerly to nothing, but the wanting of him drove you desperate.

The kick of his legs was fast, the buckles coming down and his muscles tightened to keep you steady on his thighs. The other one trapped your hands against his shoulders, as you were forced into a vulnerable position. "Please, Hinata .. fuck me.” Had you gone mad? Begging for him fueled you to say more, dirty and disgusting things but not one ounce of shame had been seen from you. His hand slid down your body, palming your ass cheek and pulling you closer as he positioned his thick head just under your slit. Thick with bulging veins, long and purple with blood, the bulbous head rested against your lips, wet from your earlier efforts. It was a sight you were yearning for.

He held you close, the slow buildup of him pushing up against you, every bit of him rubbing your nether lips and sending shivers down your spine, your belly tingling. He held you close, as he slowly but surely sank into your body, descending into your pussy sublime. A long moan escaped your lips as his cock made you dizzy, your jaw, and his girth spread you open, a fire spiking up to your scalp as your teeth chattered. As he hilted himself in your body, his hand clasped around your throat, his fingers pressing against your windpipe as his thumb rested under your jaw. He held you still, your head trapped under his hand as you were fucked ruthlessly.

The sweet bliss of him filling you up, the pain that brought tears to your eyes as he withdrew only to slam back into you. Your mind became hazy, all pain wiped away as he relentlessly drilled you. Each thrust brought you to the height of pleasure, as he used your body for his blissful haze, taking you away into oblivion. His name became nothing but a whisper, as you were left breathless, your mind unable to comprehend anything other than his thrusts. Each time he pulled out, your mind screamed out at you. He was taking your mind with him, and there was nothing you could do about it. Hinata knew just how you felt, tasted, sweet just like candy. So sweet and he couldn't be deprived of it, your tightening sex eased him to a fucked out state. His brown eyes met yours and the only thing you could see there was satisfaction, and bliss as if you were a drug to him.

A drug he couldn't get enough of. "C'mon cherry, keep making me feel good."

You tried to say something back, some words of agreement or praise to show him how good he made you feel but all that escaped was a broken cry as his hand pressed down on your throat. With every iota of voice, you had was denied, nothing but a gasp could be coming out — your face heavy from the sweat. Your eyes crossed together, eyelashes downcast, and your mouth agape, tongue rolling out to show the complete blissed-out look.

"Give it to me, my sweet cherry. Scream all your pretty vocals to me." His hand disappeared from your throat, sliding to the tight hole below your soaked pussy. He prodded at it, slick and ready for his fingers to invade it. You panted, trying to push him off but he held you down, ready to finger your ass and make you feel good. It was a tight fit with the head of his cock buried to the brim in your pussy, the perception had made you feel something too good for your good.

Your cumming blinded you in pleasure, your walls tightening around him as it brought you to the edge of sanity. Globs of your fluids flooded out, dripping down his cock as he kissed you with every thrust. Wet, messy tongues entwined as the sweetest feeling of ecstasy came over you. His palm erupting a squeak from your bitten-on lips, colliding down onto your cunt. Every inch of your body twitched as you were left breathless, every muscle aching and exhausted. Your limbs were heavy, unable to do anything but be held down by him.

Both your eyes were stuck to the cum dribbling down, a ring-forming as it gathered the fluid. Breathing heavy, you panted, feeling the air stream hit your overheated skin. Everything felt sticky and hot, the sweaty bodies mixing with the cream staining to the seats of his car. And yet through the tension in the air, you both wanted more. And that's what Hinata adored of you, wanting more of the same thing. Needing it till you got it.

"Cherry, you've got me, addicted baby." Hinata's words strung a beat in your heart, a bass hammering in your head. His fingers tapping at each curve of your chin, alerting you to face up at him with need. Breathing came heavy, as he gazed into your eyes, an animalistic lust shining. You felt dirty, basked in the aura of his stare.

Dirtier, even more, when your jaw relaxed, opening up and feeling the texture of his saliva falling straight onto your tongue. The taste of him filled your mouth, and yet the aftertaste of his cock was just as sweet, making you want more. You were sweet, just like candy, that drove his teeth to cavities. Hinata liked it, either way, savored for you. His lil’ candy girl.

#hinata x reader #hinata smut #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu x reader #rollingloud!collab🎸#cw exhibitionism #cw oral #cw spit #cw gagging #🤍.hinataa #shoyo hinata smut #shoyo hinata x reader #hinata haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut

71 notes · View notes

thisdreamplace · 3 years ago

Note

ashamed to say the 3D reflects our true inner reality, yes? my ENTIRE family has turned against me, after some atrocious conflicts in which they all ganged up on me nd judged me, name-calling, very hurtful things too, provoked me. i been dealing with some serious mental uh 'issues' on my own nd when this happend i was already on the verge of a breakdown nd the good news is while the conflict happened i kept telling myself theyre only reflecting me u can get thru it etc. Later i looked at the hard facts nd realised some of the hurtful things they said were my deep secret feelings abt myself. BUT my question is why the HELL cant they talk to me like normal people? confronting one person vs whole family, why?! i felt so small nd like an object, nd not a single person defended me. am i not a part of the family?

Part 2 is simply its been a week and theyve still been cold towards me as if I yelled AT THEM ABT THEIR PAINFUL 'tRuThS' in front of EVERYONE LMAOOO. At first if i was around we'd have dinner together while they'd all talk to each other like best friends aka sickeningly overly friendly while completely IGNORING me while i sat there. i could tolerate it. I WAS PISSED AT THEM TOO Now its too painful. They're having dinner without telling me, yesterday didnt leave enough food for me knowing i hadnt eaten, serve tea/snacks without my portion. i honestly feel so unspeakably trigered nd sad. worst is these things r reminding me of deep school memories when id feel excluded like this by other kids at parties or class activities nd its like im back there. anyway im glad i controled myself a bit nd didnt counter with horrid things abt them to THEM yet they think they can say the same to me. im so hurt rn i cant even tell u lol i was okay the whole week but now its too much,, ive been crying the whole day

thing is, ik this seems like 'im a victim oh noooo they ganged up on meee'. Nope its more like how do i change myself to change them?! u could say why not talk to them how they made u feel, except whenever ive defended myself in the past regarding hurtful things they/anyone in family did, the siblings/parents would say irritating things like: "oh so YOU'RE the one hurt? Oh thats right, its because YOU'RE right! yes, yes, you're always right. Forgive me for saying anything against the perfect person u are." Or one of them says: "You?! I hurt YOU? What about me? You don't care about me! So you think what ur doing is okay?" or "no, who do YOU think u are to tell ME what to do?" it just goes in circles like this! i dont deserve to hurt myself or do smth to myself even if they dont give a damn, even if years of silent suffering of the 'mEntAL pRoBlEms' (which my lovely parents have already told me is my fault years ago, hence why I NEVER show it to them, unless im crying too much then lol they just mock me, but idc abt THAT bcoz now ik i hav a right to let out my emotions)). i mean this is worse rjan usual. its kinda insane nd when guests come they start talking to me as if nothing's wrong then when they leave, they ignore me!

this whole twisted dynamics, feelijf left out nd helpless is ig some crazy assumptin from childhood of being alone nd unable to defend myself. plus when they argye with anyone, they become overly self-righteous nd over the years its clear they can only scream, blame the scapegoat and never talk abt serious matter like normal ppl. And yes, in the past when i bring this up, they like to reply with stuff like: "no YOU'RE the one who doesnt talk to US bla bla" like, when i do u just shut me down? have belittled my mental 'issues', mocked me when im at my worst, stabbed me with cruel silent treatments nd thinking its alright "bcoz of self-righteousness blegh". Or maybe i think its okay for them to punish me? or whatev? Like law says u get what u r. if these ~~~ keep doing this to me, im doubly ashamed to say this means im the one at fault?! i let this monster assunptin grow nd now idk what to do. the worst thing imo is how i failed to tell them,even if they ignored me in the past, how i feel when anything like this or a conflict happens nd none of them stand up for me, or at least are neutral to me. bcoz now if i do, they say nope, u dont care what we do, YOUR the shameless one :! so yeah they hav the advantage of 'numbwrs' while im too afraid to stand up for myself lol. btw they never apologize nd i suspect they expect ME to apologize to TYEM bcoz everything's already ruined bcoz of 'me'..... i give up on them, i really do, but my heart hurts. Either i harden my heart, nd save up to move out, OR i try to change my self or whatev assumptins i have. But how do i do that? i try afirming: "my familys so nice to me, im respected by them" but it feels so fake tears literally enter my eyes lol

firstly i want to say, thank you for coming here to vent and being open about your feelings. it’s so important sometimes to just let it all out, without holding back. so that way you can move forward more bravely, to create the life you truly want to experience. that being said, i am going to be completely honest with you here in hopes that perhaps it may inspire you and you will be ready to do what is needed for the life you truly want to experience.

“BUT my question is why the HELL cant they talk to me like normal people?” -> “i felt so small nd like an object, nd not a single person defended me. am i not a part of the family?” here is your question, and here is your answer. i think that being completely honest when venting your feelings can actually be so helpful, because if you read back what you have said, you will be able to clearly find the patterns that are creating your personal hell. FEELING IS THE SECRET. ASSUMPTIONS HARDEN INTO FACT. the true way you feel, becomes your experience. Feelings/assumptions/beliefs come first, and the experiences come second to confirm them. That’s all that’s happening here.

i am glad that you were able to keep your reactions to a minimum! that's wonderful and as many of us know, it can sometimes be hard to do in such hurtful circumstances. but you managed to do it, this shows just a small glimpse of the power you truly hold within. although emotionally you may feel out of control, there is still the choice to choose better for yourself which you demonstrated through your reaction to them. good for you!

the truth is, you acknowledge the victim mindset to seem like you’re not engulfed in it, but no, you’re still very clearly engulfed in it. as i have said before, you can’t be a VICTOR and feel bad about it. feeling bad about taking responsibility, about everyone is you pushed out, about any of these types of concepts automatically shows a victim mindset. talking to them won’t do anything, because there are no second causes. you could talk to them nicely, you could be the nicest person in the world. but you can’t pretend your way out of your inner world. your inner world is the one and only cause of your experiences. until you change the story you tell yourself, they will stay the same. this is a hard pill to swallow sometimes. and it can feel heavily, because it’s ultimately only you’re choice. they can’t change until you do. the heaviness of the situation may make it seem impossible to turn around, but that’s just an illusion. your emotional attachment to the situation makes it seem so real and hard to change, but no. that’s just an illusion too. however, it’s ultimately your choice. Do you want to take responsibility for your life, or do you want to keep being tossed around like your lost at sea, victim to the merciless angry waves? Because we always have a choice. No one chooses your inner world, you do. No one can go into your mind and decide things for you, that’s only your job.

you can harden your heart, but who would be the one who suffers more? It won’t be your family, i can assure you. it’ll only be you. by doing that, you keep that old story alive and therefore you keep experiencing it. you keep those stories alive that are desperately showing themselves to you, saying “LET US GO.” but you remain identified with those painful stories, so you grip onto them tight. you keep on thinking of possible reasons for their behavior, but you could just read your entire ask back to yourself and you’ll see every reason. your reactions, your beliefs about them, your emotional pain. its your refusal to let those things go, and focus on what you truly want that keeps you in this state and keeps them in this state. sure it’s painful to face the responsibility at first, but it’s not a blame game. thinking its about blame is just a misunderstanding of the teachings. it’s not about they’re so perfect and you’re so not, so you have to change your ways. it’s about this is how life works here. this is about... you can ONLY ever experience self. whatever is going on within, will be reflected in your outer world. it’s about how they can’t change, UNTIL YOU DO. so instead of feeling sorry for yourself, you have to decide to give yourself the gift of a wonderful life because you have that power too. you stop deciding they can be in control of your experience, and you decide your experience yourself.

to change your assumptions, stop trying to affirm over them and actually face what’s keeping you from believing in your desires. yeah, it’s going to be painful and uncomfortable. but you need to face the pain that you’re running away from, so that it can finally be released. you have to realize, it only stayed true because you believed it to be true. and if you are to live a life free from that story, and experience a more desirable story, then you must let the pain go. give yourself love and grace as you work through it, and know that there is a more beautiful side of life that awaits for you to accept it in.

No One To Change But Self

There is Nothing to Forgive

How to Sit with Your Triggers

give yourself the time you need, it's not race. the love that you wish to experience exists, allow it in. 💖

#eiypo

19 notes · View notes

lexosaurus · 4 years ago

Text

Everything Was White: Part 12

[see all chapters]

Read on: [ffn] / [ao3]

---

The alarm was blaring.

Danny recognized the noise immediately. But his eyes were still slow to open, his arms were slow to turn off the offending sound, and his brain was slow to recognize that the white ceiling above him was just his bedroom ceiling.

His body was numb. Nothing felt real.

He grabbed his phone off his nightstand and unlocked it. The screen was too bright, but he didn’t care. He’d been through worse. What was a little eye strain to him, really?

There were text messages, but Danny ignored them. The government likely already read them first, so if they were important, Danny would probably have woken up back in his cell rather than his cozy bed.

Ghosts like Danny didn’t get to have comfort. He was unpredictable. Dangerous.

“You’re a feral beast.” Operative O’s deep voice rained down on him. “You need to be trained.”

Danny opened the Twitter app only to be faced with a crushing amount of notifications and his name on the top of the trending list.

He should have felt nervous. Anxiety should have gripped his stomach. But...it didn’t.

He felt nothing.

Numb.

He clicked on his name and scrolled through the tweets. As he suspected, that damn video of him at the PHP littered his screen.

Protests have begun to break out near the health clinic Phantom is attending. [image]

I don’t understand, why doesn’t he just fly into the building or something? Can he not fly?

Is phantom over?

It’s so gross how people feel the need to harass a teenager trying to recover from trauma.

imagine being a teen trying to get emergency mental help and then THAT walks into ur class

What the fuck did the government do to him?

He was numb.

Nobody knew what really happened in there, and Danny wanted so badly to keep it that way. And the worst part was, he thought that if he just forgot about it, tried to move past it, then it would all go away. And no one would ever know.

Except Vlad did find out. Somehow, Vlad had managed to get a hold of classified government files about Danny, and if what he had implied was true, then he had learned everything.

And if Vlad knew, then…

No. He wasn’t going to think about it.

Danny knew from the moment he’d stupidly revealed himself that his life was not his own anymore. He knew that he was going to be nothing but a government possession from that moment till the day he died.

He didn’t deserve to get upset over this.

He pulled up a blank tweet and started typing. His movements were robotic. Stilted. But one slip-up, just one reason for the public to get suspicious, and Danny knew that some seedy corner of the internet would pounce on the opportunity to dig deeper into Danny’s life than he was comfortable with.

Danny Phantom @dannyphantom Thank you everyone for the support. I’m back home with my family and am healing.

Before he could question what he was doing, his finger was already pressing send on the tweet. He watched as almost immediately, notifications popped up in his inbox.

But he didn’t open his notifications, he didn’t look at the replies. Instead, he closed the app and shut his phone off.

He didn’t care anymore.

Maddie knocked on the door and asked him a question, and he responded with the right answer for her to leave. He got up and started his new morning routine of sitting in the shower for ten minutes, getting dressed, brushing his teeth, and heading downstairs for breakfast before leaving for six hours of mandatory therapy.

He stared out the window, watching the morning traffic pass by him. He couldn’t remember if he shampooed his hair or if he just sat under the scalding water. But it was fine. He was just a government-issued robot now. Whatever.

There were people lining the highway when Danny pulled into the PHP center. They were shouting different things, holding different signs, their cameras armed and ready as soon as the GAV came into view. The police were there, making sure no one escaped into the parking lot, and there were therapists waiting outside.

They didn’t know. They had no idea what Danny had gone through, why he was there.

And it didn’t matter. Not to them, not to Danny, not to the police or the news stations filming the scene or to the government or Vlad or anyone else.

Danny wasn’t in charge of his life anymore.

He was only here because the government had decided he could stay free.

For now.

The therapists escorted him into the building. Danny felt hollow. Sick.

No, he was fine.

Maddie hugged him, told him to have a good day, that she’d be back to bring him to more therapy after, and Danny nodded. At least, he thought he remembered to nod. He might not have, though.

There was a window in the lobby. A white van was parked along the street.

The APC news van.

Jazz was right. Danny was just being paranoid about the white van outside of their house before. He was so stupid.

Even if it wasn’t a news van, what would it matter? He didn’t control his life, what would he care if they finished him off in some back alley? What would it matter if they snuck him into their van and held him captive for the rest of his life in some damp containment cell?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Danny spaced out for the morning meeting. He couldn’t remember if he managed to read off his paper for the other teens. His voice wasn’t working today. His head hurt. His chest hurt. Everything was numb.

They had art therapy today, run by a tall, lanky man with sandy hair and a clean-shaven face. He told the group to paint what they were feeling today, to channel their emotions onto their blank sheets of paper.

But Danny felt nothing. He had nothing to give.

He must have stared at his paper for too long, because the therapist tried to talk to him, ask him if he was alright, if he was having trouble with the exercise.

Danny didn’t respond, instead choosing to pick up the green paint and squeeze some of it directly onto his paper, rules be damned. It was too dark, so he grabbed the white paint and smeared it into the green. The color still wasn’t right, but Danny didn’t know enough about art to make it right, so he just kept spreading green across his paper. A dash of yellow, then some white, more green.

Time was up. His paper was green.

“Good job, Danny. What do you think?” the therapist asked.

Danny stared at the paper, studying the streaks of yellow within the brush strokes. “It’s not the right shade of ectoplasm.”

The day continued with more emotion-managing lessons and group activities but Danny didn’t care and nobody could understand that. He was done with this, he was tired, it didn’t matter.

It was lunchtime, and Danny had no appetite. It felt like he had just eaten breakfast. His stomach was still full, but he had a sandwich sitting in front of him that he needed to eat or else they would tell his parents.

Danny held the sandwich between his fingers. It looked like sandpaper.

He didn’t want to eat it.

The therapist was looking at him. She was probably talking to him too, asking him questions about his day. But Danny ignored her. After all, didn’t he need to eat this lunch? How could he possibly eat and talk at the same time?

The teens were talking around him, but Danny blocked them all out too.

They were noisy.

It was like they weren’t even there.

Danny wasn’t human. He didn’t care.

But you do care.

He didn’t.

He was numb.

Eat up like a good little dog.

I’m not a dog.

Something inside him snapped, and he yanked on his cold core, channeling all his energy to his fingertips. His fingers tingled out of the tangible field, and the sandwich fell to the table.

“Whoa!” The blonde girl jumped, her eyes trained on Danny’s transparent skin.

“Danny?”

There was an audience. Danny had forgotten about them. His core faltered, and the power faded from his fingertips.

He should have felt embarrassed by this emotional display. He should have felt horrified that he’d allowed himself to act so inhuman and disgusting in front of these innocent bystanders.

But he was still numb.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was bored.”

“That was sick!” the brunette boy chimed in. “You can do that on command?”

“Usually.” Danny’s gaze flickered over to the therapist, who was giving him a strange look. He turned his attention back to the fallen sandwich.

Maybe he would get kicked out of the program for this. For being too dangerous. That would probably be for the better. Then he could go free into the world. No more schedule, no more therapy, no more dissecting his emotions or talking about his trauma.

Who cared about his trauma, anyway? Certainly not him.

“So you still have your ghost powers, then?” the blonde girl asked. “People were saying online that you lost them. The government took them or whatever.”

Danny brought his hand up to his face, willing his fingers to fade to invisibility. “They’re locked. But...I...they’re there. I’ll get them back.”

He would get them back. He needed them.

Especially now.

Which was how he found himself sitting quietly outside his mother’s door. Waiting. He should have knocked probably, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. He didn’t know why, he knew he should just go back to his room, go to sleep, stop bothering his parents about this, but he needed his core back.

His mom would understand. She was a ghost biology expert, right? She would get why he needed his core back now.

He raised his fist to knock, but he must have already knocked before because the door opened, revealing his mother dressed in teal pajamas on the other side.

“Danny?” She frowned, her brows pulling cautiously above her eyes. “What are you doing up, sweetie? Everything alright?”

“I, uh—” His voice was scratchy. He broke eye contact, staring down at his lap. “My—my core.”

“Something wrong?”

He licked his lips, his mouth dry. “I need it back.”

“Sweetheart,” she said in a patient tone. “We talked about this.”

“No. you talked.”

She sighed. “Danny, it’s nearly eleven. Can’t this wait till morning?”

“No. No. I need it.”

“I told you, hun, your core and body need time to heal properly first before we make any drastic changes to your physiology. Just give it a few more weeks, alright?”

“Weeks?” Danny’s voice rose in alarm.

“I promise it’ll be all worth it.”

Static rang in his ears, and a steel claw clutched at his stomach.

His mom didn’t understand. Why would she? She was human. Humans would never get it. She didn’t understand.

“No, I can’t…”

“Danny, you need to trust me. Your body needs to rest.”

“You don’t understand.”

She regarded him for a moment before opening her door fully. “Why don’t you come in and we can talk, then. You can tell me why this is so important to you.”

Danny peered inside the door, at the surprisingly average-looking bedroom before him. He could go in, tell his mother just how wrong he felt cut off from his core, how he was being blackmailed by Vlad, how there was a distinct record of every detail of what the Guys in White had done to him, how he had never felt so defenseless, so vulnerable in his life.

But he wouldn’t, and he knew he couldn’t. There was no way he could put it all into words. He was a ghost, she was a human. He couldn’t explain this to her.

Skulker and Vlad may have forced his revelation, but they gave him more secrets than he could ever have dreamt of handling.

Danny turned away. “It’s fine. Good night.”

“Hun…”

“Night, Mom.”

There was a tense silence before Maddie finally relented. “I love you, Danny.”

“You too,” he said reflexively. The words tasted sour on his tongue.

She didn’t understand. If she truly loved him, she would give him his core back right now, but she didn’t.

No, he was just being paranoid. This was just his Obsession talking. He didn’t need his core, he was just as much human as he was ghost. So what if he had to be a little more human for the next few weeks? Isn’t that what he’d always wanted?

To just be a regular human?

Maybe that was what his mother wanted. Maybe that was why she was postponing removing the chip. Maybe she was too afraid to see her son as a monster. A ghost.

But that was crazy. She loved him.

She was telling the truth.

His parents accepted him.

---

“You seem quiet today.”

Danny leaned back against the sofa, his arms crossed and his eyes looking anywhere but at the blonde figure sitting before him. The stress ball sat untouched on the table next to him.

He didn’t feel like doing therapy today. He didn’t want to talk.

His mom was human, his therapist was human. No one was going to get it.

“What’s on your mind, Danny?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He was fine. There was nothing to talk about. Even if there were things to talk about—and there weren’t, this was all just his Obsession going haywire—it wouldn’t matter anyway because he was defenseless and the government was going to kidnap him again. It was only a matter of time.

“You finished your first week with the PHP group today, right? How has that been going?”

“Fine.”

“Can you tell me about some of the activities you’ve been doing?”

“I don’t know.”

She sat there for a moment, as if giving him time to elaborate. But Danny wasn’t going to elaborate. He didn’t feel like talking today.

He looked out the window. The leaves had changed color, the ripe greens fading to yellows, oranges, and reds. In another few weeks, the ground would be littered with fallen leaves.

Summer had barely just begun when he was dragged from his house, drugged, and locked away. And yet, even though his entire world had come to a halt, time still moved on.

The clatter of the therapist’s clipboard falling on a side table jolted Danny out of his musing. He flinched, his eyes snapping over to see the therapist rising from her chair.

She stretched her arms behind her back and walked over to the closet. “You know what? It’s been a long day. Wanna play a game?”

“Um...are we allowed to do that?”

“I don’t see why not.” She grabbed a box out of the closet and placed it down in the center of the room.

Danny peered at it in confusion. “Jenga? Of—of all the games out there, you’re really gonna make me...make me get on the floor for Jenga?”

“Oh, come on, it’s fun.”

“You must throw some wild parties,” he remarked, rolling his eyes. Nonetheless, he slid off the couch and slowly scooched himself towards the middle of the room. As long as he didn’t have to explain why he was two seconds away from ripping his own core out of his chest, he would go along with whatever game she threw at him.

The therapist carefully tipped the box upside down, sliding the lid up to reveal a tower of multi-colored wooden tiles jigsawed together.

“So here’s our marvelous tower,” she said. “You can reach that alright?”

“Yeah.”

“So normal Jenga rules. We switch off trying to remove a piece without causing the tower to collapse. Except, for this game, after you remove a piece, you’re going to pick a card from this stack—” She pointed to a deck of large cards set up next to the Jenga tower. “—and then answer the question on the card that’s the same color. So if I take a purple tile out, I’ll answer the purple question on the card. Got it?”

Danny glanced between the cards and his therapist’s eager face. He was fairly certain Jenga never involved a set of cards before.

Maybe he’d forgotten the rules. It wouldn’t have been the first time his brain had betrayed him. “Am I being quizzed?”

“Don’t worry.” She pushed up the sleeves of her blue cardigan. “They’re just basic therapy questions. Nothing too bad.”

No. This was a trick, wasn’t it? To get him to talk?

He wasn’t going to fall for it. “I thought we weren’t—weren’t doing that...today.”

“The questions aren’t too deep. Honestly, I mostly just use this game as an icebreaker for new clients. But Jenga’s pretty fun all the same.”

He must have still looked too suspicious, because she threw him an easy smile and went, “Here, I’ll go first.” She carefully nudged a green tile out of the stack and drew a card. “Okay, so the green question on here says, ‘Describe yourself in three words.’ Well, I’d say I’m kind, I think I’m rather nerdy, and I’m a bit of a cat lady.”

That...wasn’t so bad. Maybe this would be an easy game.

He doubted any of the questions asked him about his core. Maybe he could loosen up a bit, go along with this icebreaker game, if only for an hour before sinking back into his internal panic.

“Cat lady?” he tried.

She chuckled. “I’m surprised that’s never come up! I have two at home.”

Right, his therapist had a life outside of therapy. Outside of his problems.

But it wasn’t like he knew her name. At this point, it was just too embarrassing to ask. Maybe she had told him that she had cats, and he just couldn’t remember. Maybe he would forget it again tomorrow.

Whatever. It was fine. He couldn’t care about things he didn’t remember. “Uh…” Danny pushed a purple tile out of the tower. “So I just pick up a—um, a card?”

“Yup, and read the purple question.”

Danny looked down at his card and rolled his eyes. “Oh, figures. ‘If you had superpowers, what would they be?’ Well, I’m dead. Does being dead count?”

She laughed, her voice light and airy. “Of all the questions, huh? Okay, let’s modify this a bit. If you could only keep one of your powers, which would you take?”

“Probably intangibility,” Danny said, his lack of hesitation surprising him.

“Oh? Why?”

“Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck. Where the chip was. “It’s the most useful, isn’t it? I can just...you know...I have no physical stuff in my way. I can just phase through any—anything I need. Or—no. Almost anything.”

Not shields. Those could still trap him.

Thankfully, she didn’t try to pry further, just offering him a kind nod and a “that makes sense” before pushing out another Jenga tile. “Blue! Alright, my question is, ‘What is your favorite feature about yourself?’ Hmm...that’s a bit tough, isn’t it? But I think my favorite thing about myself is my hair. When I was a teen, I used to straighten my hair, but then when I got to college, I stopped doing that and just let it be. Now I quite like my curly hair. Okay, your turn!”

“Okay.” Danny leaned over and pushed a red tile out of the tower. “Okay...my quest—question is…‘What is your biggest hope for your future?’ Oh...”

He did want to be an astronaut. But that was before, when he was still human. And then he was caught between thousands of volts of ecto-electricity and that future vanished right before his eyes.

What did he want to do with his life? What did he hope would happen?

He wanted his core back. He couldn’t let himself be so vulnerable for much longer. His chest felt like it was tearing itself apart, he needed to—

Breathe. And answer the question.

What did he hope for his future?

“I don’t know. My future’s kinda...ruined, isn’t it?”

“Try to think on a smaller scale.”

“I…” Danny ran a hand through his hair. He wanted his core back, he wanted to be Phantom, he wanted to protect Amity Park. But he couldn’t say that. It made him sound too ghostly. Too inhuman.

Humans didn’t have these kinds of otherworldly desires. She would think he was a freak if he told her. She wouldn’t know how to react.

“I want to finish PT.”

“That’s a good goal to have.”

“Your turn.”

Humming, she nudged a tile out of the Jenga tower and flipped over a card. “Okay, my question is, ‘What is something you were worried about when you were younger?’ Let me think…oh, here’s one. When I was young, my older sister moved out to live with her boyfriend. It was really scary because I had never lived without her, but we kept in touch and everything turned out okay.”

“I haven’t either. Lived away from Jazz I mean. Like—like for real. But she’s going to college next—next semester. I think she, uh...deferred a semester.”

“And you know, it’s common to feel worried about a sibling moving out. Periods of transition in life can be the most stressful for us, but it’s important to recognize that things will be okay.”

Danny looked down at the carpet. “I guess.”

Some days it felt like Jazz was the only one truly on his side. He was a lab rat, too well known and too hated to ever have a future, forever condemned to a vicious cycle of evading people like the Guys in White and Vlad for the rest of his life. Jazz was leaving him in a few months, his friends would follow in a few years, and in the end, Danny would be alone.

But he was fine with that. He’d accepted it. It was just his life now, there was nothing to say about it.

“It’s my turn, isn’t it?”

“Yup! Go right ahead.”

Danny removed another tile. “‘How do you think others view you and why?’” He paused, throwing the therapist a bitter look. “This is rigged.”

“Not rigged, that’s just a very lucky pick.”

“Lucky to who?” Danny groaned.

What was with the universe finding new ways to torment him?

“Humor me,” the therapist said patiently.

Danny glared at his card, tapping his fingers against the edge. It wasn’t like the public opinion of him was exactly a secret, but it still hurt. Constantly. Like some scab he kept telling himself to ignore, but ignoring it was impossible because the public would never leave him alone.

“Not good,” Danny muttered. “People hate me.”

“Being in the public eye is very stressful for anyone, but to be unique in your way adds on an entirely different layer. People are afraid of the things they don’t understand, and that makes them forget that at the end of the day, you’re still a person.”

“Yeah.” Danny’s eyes were trained on the colorful tower before him, which was starting to blur as the prickling behind his eyes increased. He ducked his head and blinked, hoping to save face before it was too late.

“That doesn’t mean everyone feels this way, though. But sometimes it can feel that way to you because the ones who are the most afraid, the most hateful, are the loudest voices in the crowd. But remember, Danny, you won that court case for a reason. You have more people on your side than you think.”

“I won it for now, you mean. I don’t...I don’t think…�� His voice failed, and he pressed his fingernails into his palms. He took a few shaky breaths. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Danny. Why don’t we talk about the case for a minute?”

Tucker’s words echoed in his head, how it was televised. How millions of people all around the globe probably tuned in for it, or watched streams online, each person with their own opinion of him.

But he didn’t want to think about that right now.

“No,” he said. “Can we—can we just continue the game?”

“If you’re not ready to talk about it, then that’s okay. Thank you for letting me know.”

“It’s your turn.”

“Alright.” She pushed a block out of the tower. “So...alright, my question is, ‘What memory do you treasure the most?’ To that, I think fishing with my dad as a child. He was a big support for me when I was growing up, and I really valued our times fishing together as important bonding moments for us.”

Danny nodded politely, trying his best to not appear like he was counting down the seconds until therapy was over.

He could feel his emotions building inside him, threatening to topple the carefully constructed dam guarding his secrets. This was such a simple game, these were such simple questions, so why did he feel like he was failing?

He pushed out a Jenga tile—a red tile—from the tower and grabbed a card, scanning the questions until he found the red one.

What are you afraid of?

The words echoed back to him, and he pushed the card away. He didn’t want to look at it, he didn’t want to read those words or hear her voice because saying the question would mean he would have to talk and he only agreed to this stupid game to get out of talking.

There was so much he was afraid of that he had no right to be afraid of. Because he deserved this. Getting revealed was his fault, he was being reckless. He deserved all of it.

The experiments with the Guys in White. The pain, the way his skin was torn apart. How they threw him in a vat of ectoplasm the next day to heal, and how the ectoplasm entering his lungs made him feel like he was drowning because even though ghosts didn’t need to breathe, he still used those organs reflexively as Phantom. But he was in too much pain and his brain was too hazy to fight back. He could only sink into the darkness.

The red bag. The way it tasted, smelled, how it haunted him every day and how he revisited those moments every night in his dreams. How he would wake up each day and the drawer on his nightstand would be shimmering in the morning sun, as if tempting him to open it up, grab the bottle inside, let it help just for one day. It can take the edge off, he can be functional. Who cares if he’s cheating? It’s just for a day...

The public. The people. Their judgments, their words. How he was, on a molecular level, so vastly different from them. How he could never be the same. He would never have a normal life, he could never have a normal job, a normal family, normal friendships, ever again. There would always be something there, something alien between them.

Even between him and his best friends. There was just something... different ever since the portal accident. It had brought them closer together, sure, but in other ways it had also driven an invisible wedge between them. Because Danny would always have his powers, he would always be a half ghost, and there would always be things now that Sam and Tucker would never understand.

How much would change now? Now that he was in the public eye, now that he’d gone through government torture? Now that his brain didn’t work the same?

And his core. His humanity. Why were his parents so apprehensive about it?

What are you afraid of?

Why wouldn’t his parents let him down into the lab? What were they hiding? They said his core was damaged, but it had been months since he was ripped open. His surgical damage had healed, his broken bones were back to normal, and even though his nerve endings in his chest and spine were still fried, they had been slowly mending themselves too.

Ectoplasm healed faster than human physiology. His core should have been fine by now.

What was the truth?

“They accept me,” Danny said automatically.

“Who does?”

Who accepted him?

Sam and Tucker did.

His family…

Did they?

“I don’t know.”

“You have people in your corner, Danny. Your parents, your sister, your close friends. They all care about you. We’re all here for you, even if those loud voices in the public tell you otherwise.”

But if they cared...

“Then why won’t they let me have my core back?”

“Your core?”

“My powers. My ghostliness. Ectoplasm.” Danny let his eyes flair to emphasize his point.

If his therapist was scared of his otherworldly display, she didn’t show it. Instead, she continued to look at him with her neutral expression, free of the judgment he’d come to expect from people since the accident.

And for some reason he couldn’t explain, that irritated him.

“You mean the inhibitor chip?” she asked.

“Yes. They told me it was because my core...it was damaged but—but it doesn’t make sense! It doesn’t...”

“Have you talked to them about this?”

Of course he had. They kept repeating that his core was damaged. And they were probably right—for a time, at the very least. But that was months ago.

Why hadn’t they scanned his core recently? Shouldn’t they be happy to learn it was healed? Shouldn’t that make them relieved?

What were they afraid of?

What are you afraid of?

“Do you think it would be helpful if I talked to your mother about this?” asked the therapist. “As a way to introduce the topic? She likely doesn’t know how much it’s bothering you.”

But that didn’t make sense either because Danny brought his core up every day. His parents knew how much it was bothering him. They had to have known, right?

So why were they doing this to him?

What were they hiding?

What are you afraid of?

---

Danny tried to remember a time where walking from his living room to his kitchen didn’t require a list of steps to be taken beforehand—a time where he could just get up and walk. But those memories were far too distant now.

And besides, this was his reality now. A reality where something as simple as walking made his head spin.

He shouldn’t dwell on the memories of how easy it used to be for him, he shouldn’t have snapped at Jazz for getting a cup of water for him because he knew the glasses were too high to reach from his wheelchair, he shouldn’t allow this irrational anger to overtake him every time the creeping anxiety of his future as Amity Park’s ghost hero came into question.

He just needed to focus on where he was now. Curled up on his couch avoiding his parents.

Everything felt wrong this morning when he woke up. For a moment, he had managed to convince himself that he was just being paranoid. That it was just his damaged nerve endings freaking out as normal. That once he took his medication, his problems would go away.

But they didn’t. He still felt wrong. His chest still felt wrong.

It was manifesting in other ways too. He couldn’t walk as long today at PT. His physical therapist told him it was just a bad day and that his body was probably just tired from his busy week. But Danny knew that wasn’t right.

It had nothing to do with him being tired. He wasn’t sick. He wasn’t anxious.

His core was the problem. His parents were the problem.

He tried asking about his core again on the way home from PT, using conversation techniques he went over with his therapist at the end of their last appointment, but Maddie just brushed him off. Said they would talk about it later.

But then later came and...she didn’t.

Danny tried asking his father, but he brushed Danny off too. Said Danny needed to focus on healing first.

But how was he supposed to heal when he was missing half of himself?

He felt wrong. So wrong. His body was too bound by gravity, it was too empty, it wasn’t listening to him.

He pressed his palms into his forehead. His hands were clammy. Shaking. Speckles of cold touched them—or was that his tears? Was he crying?

No.

He pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes. What was wrong with him? Why was he acting this way?

The government had him in a cage. They tormented him in ways he would rather die than live through again. But then it ended, and he was freed. He was allowed to go home, he could live his life as a legal person again.

Except, he wasn’t free. Not at all. He was still trapped here in Amity, in his house, in his body. He had no control. Not over what he ate, when he slept, where he went, what he could say, what he could think.

Half of him was still locked up tight with no hope of escape.

His water glass was empty. It would have been too embarrassing to ask someone to help him, but he was so thirsty and dehydrated and he just really needed this to work. He needed his body to respond to him. For one moment, please, just let his body respond.

Gripping the water cup in one hand and his walker in the other, he tried to stand, to walk over to the kitchen sink. But balancing everything was so difficult, his body was still fatigued from PT, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to do it but he just needed to try.

But he couldn’t do it in the end. The cup slipped out of his hand and tumbled onto the carpet, thankfully saved from shattering on impact by some last shred of luck the universe decided to pity him with.

And now Danny too was on the floor because he couldn’t bend down to pick the cup back up like a normal person, and he didn’t want to call for help, and he couldn’t use any of his powers, and he felt so trapped. So helpless. So vulnerable.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it was too stubborn and he was too useless.

A tear splattered against his hand, and he gripped the floor, his body trembling.

“Stop crying. Stop it.” he hissed.

He was weak.

Plasmius, once nearly his equal, had so severely overpowered him the other night. It was embarrassing. On the hierarchy of ghosts, where was he now? At the bottom with the blob ghosts?

But those ghosts could still fly. They could still turn intangible. Things that Danny couldn’t even do.

Hell, he was so weak that even the Box Ghost could defeat him now.

“Stop crying.”

He crawled back to the couch, the thought of getting water abandoned on the floor along with the last semblance of his dignity. Another tear fell from his cheek, and he desperately tried to ignore it, ignore his dry throat, ignore the pain in his chest, ignore his core and the Y-scar on his body and his new place in the ghost hierarchy as lower than dirt, ignore everything. Just focus on getting back to the couch. Shut down, go numb.

He was fine, he was okay.

He just needed to push through this. Just toughen up, quit whining. Life wasn’t fair. So what if he was now just a regular human? Hadn’t he been human for the first fourteen years of his life? He needed to suck it up.

Dragging himself back onto the safety of the couch cushions, he pulled one of Jazz’s throw blankets around his body and pressed a pillow into his face.

Never in his life had he been so tempted to scream, to curse, to finally let the last brick fall and allow hell to break loose. But his parents were in the basement, Jazz was upstairs, and he was fine.

He was fine.

---

Huge thank you to tumblr user and writer @imekitty for proofreading this chapter. She’s amazing and I owe her my life.

And as always, thanks for reading!

---

#danny phantom #everything was white #chapter 12 #my writing #fanfiction #phiccs #danny has A Bad Time

70 notes · View notes

tomhardygf · 4 years ago

Text

an equine mistake 2.7k tommy/alfie

“Peaky Blinders AU where giving someone a horse counts as a courtship tradition amongst the Romanies and not knowing about it, Alfie presents Tommy with a rather beautiful stallion. The next day he has both Arthur AND Polly at his throat. Tommy enjoys the chaos.”

this is silly and dumb and i didn’t wanna bother posting on ao3! has a lot less tommy enjoying chaos and more him being absolutely bewildered. set in a world where homophobia doesn’t exist, maybe. ft: john shelby being a little asshole, alfie being a belligerent asshole, and me dunking on ollie even when there is absolutely no need for it 💖

original prompt: (x) (ty @ohmykaspbrak ✨ ur brain is powerful and huge) ohmykaspbrak’s fill: (x) read it she’s beautiful

Tommy stood on the Garrison doorstop, blinking down at the man before him. “What’s this?” He asks, fingers itching for a cigarette, but too surprised to actually reach for one.

“What’s it fucking look like, mate?” Answers Alfie, rope twined around his hand at least 5 times, as if afraid his charge were to bolt at any moment. “Recently acquired the bloody beast in a deal, and thought to myself, ‘right, who do I know who’ll take this thing off my hands’?”

“And you thought of me?”

Alfie waves his free hand in the air. “Yeah. It was either that, or put a bullet between its eyes.”

Tommy is still skeptical, but he takes a step forward. The horse that Alfie’s brought him is beautiful— fur black as night, with strong, powerful muscles shifting underneath. He moves closer, carefully considering the state of it’s health, but the eyes are bright and clear, the nose and mouth free of any signs of sick, its hooves well maintained, when he picks one up for inspection. It’s young, and it’s clearly been very well taken care of. Whoever Alfie had taken this horse off of had likely poured a great deal of money into its acquisition and it’s upkeep.

“A thoroughbred,” Alfie adds, when Tommy doesn’t respond any further. “Least, think that’s what he said. He wasn’t exactly speaking straight, had something blocking his mouth.”

Tommy makes a considering noise in reply. Alfie turning up in Birmingham tugging a horse along, no car or any of his men in sight was certainly the strangest thing to happen to him that week. He’s half expecting an ambush, for the sounds of gunfire to start hailing down on them, but nothing happens. It’s just Alfie, standing in front of him, looking as out of place on the street in front of the Garrison as Tommy ever could have imagined. The man looks more and more uncomfortable the longer Tommy doesn’t respond, so he eventually takes pity on him. “Do you want to give him a name?”

“Nah,” Alfie snorts, “I trust you can come up with something suitable for the creature.” At that, he begins to unwind the rope from his wrist, holding it out vaguely in Tommy’s direction. Tommy resists the urge to crack a smile at the discomfort still evident in the man’s posture. He’s still a bit bewildered by Alfie thinking to give him what was undeniably a gift— a stallion, of all things— but he’s sure that the man hadn’t meant anything by it.

Tommy lifts his hand to take the rope. Just as it is passing between them, the door to the Garrison swings open, John bustling his way through. He’d been in the back of the bar when Tommy’d been informed about Solomons marching down the road, and Tommy had quietly slipped out before he would be any the wiser. He stumbles to an abrupt stop at the view before him. “What’s this?” He slurs, not drunk, just confused. His eyes dart between the two men and the horse standing behind them, the look on John’s face becoming rapidly accusatory as he takes in the scene before him.

Tommy opens his mouth to speak, to give an explanation that wouldn’t make things worse for himself, but Alfie beats him to it. “Was passing through your pisshole of a city, and thought I’d stop by and drop your brother off a gift I’ve been meaning to give him.”

John’s mouth falls open, face twisting up in a mixture of confusion and outrage. He tears his eyes away from Solomons, staring directly now at Tommy. “He brought you a fucking horse?”

Tommy moves forward, the horse following along after him, docile. Tommy switches to Romani, aware of Alfie’s presence behind him. “Relax, brother. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“He’d better fucking not,” John spits, partially soothed, but shoots a glare over Tommy’s shoulder at Alfie.

“How would he know?” Tommy asks, resting a hand on John’s shoulder, face purposefully clear, despite how much he’s holding in the strange urge to laugh at the situation. “He’s Jewish. Different traditions.”

“Oi,” Alfie interrupts, stepping forward now as well. When Tommy looks over to him, he’s got his chest puffed out, looking harsh and burly. “Don’t know whatever the fuck you two are saying, but I know who you’re talkjng about, alright? Enough whispering.”

John scowls at him, unimpressed with the man. But after a moment, a new expression crosses his face, something significantly more mischievous— his anger having faded, he’s fallen back into just being his little brother. “I’m going to tell Polly about this.”

“You’ll do no such thing!”

John grins, slaps Tommy on the back. He slips back into English. “Yeah, I’m going to tell her.

“John!” Tommy hisses, but John’s already ducked out and away from him, practically skipping down the street in his excitement to cause problems. Tommy sighs as he stares after him. That’ll be something to deal with.

Alfie follows his gaze, deflating a bit now that John’s gone. “What was all that about, then?”

Tommy snorts, and he lifts a hand to pat against the horse’s flank. “It’s… one of the traditions of my people,” he murmurs, his cheeks suddenly feeling a bit warm. “The gift of a stallion represents certain… expectations.”

“Expectations?”

Tommy looks up at Alfie, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice, especially at the look of bewilderment on the man. “You’ve asked me to marry you.”

Alfie follows him home. Or, more accurately, Alfie follows him back to Charlie’s Yard, to board the horse, and then he follows him home. He tells Alfie, as they walk, that there’s no need for him to follow— that it wasn’t as if he needed to explain to his family his intentions (or his lack of them), that him showing up will likely only make things worse. But Alfie is apparently determined to make a vaguely uncomfortable conversation into something much more excruciating. So Alfie’s there, at his back as he opens the front door, a dull feeling of dread filling Tommy as he hears John’s gleeful snickering from somewhere deeper in the house.

It was too much to hope that John wouldn’t find Polly before him. Far too much to hope that when John found her, that she wouldn’t already be accompanied by every single member of his immediate family. He turns the corner to the kitchen, five sets of eyes locking in on the two men as they enter.

“See?” John laughs, absolutely delighted, gesturing wildly towards Tommy and Alfie standing in the doorway.

“No,” Arthur grunts, going a bit pale.

Ada and Finn snicker behind their hands, eyes wide.

Polly just purses her lips, eyeing the two of them, considering.

“Alright, look.” Tommy steps forward into the room, shooting his younger brother a quick glare. John, unrepentant, grins back at him. “I’m sure John’s told you—.”

“That congratulations are in order?” Polly interrupts, arching a brow.

“It’s been good weather,” Ada jumps in, still giggling a bit. “Good for an outdoor ceremony.”

“Alright,” Tommy holds both his hands up, trying to quiet them down, to stifle the laughter. “No one’s proposing to anyone, you hear me?”

Arthur lets out a sigh of relief. The rest of them keep looking amused. Polly turns her gaze on Alfie, still standing behind Tommy. “So I suppose I don’t need to ask you for your intentions with my nephew, then?”

Alfie makes one of those noises he does, that deep rumbling in the back of his throat. “Well, you could ask me, right, and maybe I’d tell you, out of respect for our dear Thomas standing over there, but I’d not be sure you’d like my answer.”

Tommy looks up, frowning. He’s always overly cautious around the man, always looking for double meaning behind his words. Is what he’s said… a threat? “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” Alfie moves in closer, tilting his head to the side. He lifts a hand, gesturing towards Tommy standing there. “I mean, if given the opportunity, mate, I’d love to take a run at it, but if that would mean volunteering to join in on this family of yours, I’ll have to decline, right.”

The room is silent for a moment. Just for a minute, though.

“What?” Arthur growls. Ada releases a nervous bark of laughter, eyes still wide and shining with her glee. John and Finn, sitting on either side of her, have matching expressions. Tommy just… stands there.

“Jesus Christ,” Polly murmurs, and with that, she rises to her feet. There’s a sly look to her. “Tommy, perhaps you should have a chat in private with your suitor. Best of luck to you, Mr. Solomons. Heaven knows, you’ll need it.”

The Shelby’s slowly leave the room, Arthur and John seeming particularly reluctant to leave them, for very different reasons. Arthur, on his way out, gets directly into Alfie’s face, glaring, but Alfie is as unphased by threat of direct violence as he always is.

Soon (much too soon), it’s just Tommy and Alfie stood in the room.

“What?” Tommy asks, weakly, because he still thinks there’s been some sort of misunderstanding, that he’d not interpreted what the man had said correctly, because there’s no way that Alfie actually meant it, right? Not in that way.

All Shelby’s gone, save Tommy, Alfie has the sense to look a bit more bashful than his previous bravado in the face of Arthur and Polly. “Well, wasn’t gonna just fucking… say it, alright?” He runs a large hand down his face, stroking through his beard. “Was going to be proper nice, was going to be romantic.”

Tommy coughs out a laugh, something far more nervous than he’s normally capable of. “Romantic?”

Alfie nods, twitchy and unpredictable. “Yeah. First was the horse, right? Had to give you a gift, a signal of my esteemed interest. You’re very pretty, is the thing. Makes me want to give you gifts, daft as it is. Couldn’t decide what you’d want, was between that and a razor to sew into those silly little caps of yours. Thought that might come across the wrong way, that you’d think I was threatening to cut ya.” He sighs, eyes darting up towards the ceiling. “Should’ve just gotten you the razor. How was I to know that the horse would be as good as dropping to bended knee?”

Tommy almost blushes at the turn of phrase. Alfie, with his eagle eyes, still notices. His lips quirk up into a smirk.

“That a nice thought, Tom? I’m not as young as I used to be, sweetie, knees don’t cooperate as much as I’d like them to. For someone with a mouth like yours, though, I might be persuaded to try.”

“Alright,” Tommy holds up a hand, putting a stop to that train of thought before it can go any further. He weighs his own words over in his mind, still trying to puzzle through this unprecedented situation. “So… what exactly are you saying? You…” he clears his throat, hating it before he even says it. “You want me?”

Alfie just nods, as if he sees absolutely nothing strange about the concept, as if Tommy’s just asked him if he’d like to stay for a cup of tea. “Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.”

“Oh.” Tommy nods back at him. He bites at the inside of his lip. “Okay. You. Alright.”

Alfie studies him, something shifting in his expression that Tommy instantly picks up on. Disappointment, maybe. “You don’t need to reciprocate, lad. Just say, ‘thanks, but no thanks’, and I’ll be right on my way back to Camdentown, won’t I? Daresay I won’t even do something dastardly, like charge you an extra percentage on your goods. No charge for rejection, alright?”

Tommy snorts. “No cost for hurt feelings?”

Alfie, curiously, laughs. “Different sort of cost, perhaps. Nothing I’d hold you to, though.”

It gives him pause. He’d been well on his way to formulating his rejection, on how to say it without causing any damage to their professional relationship. It’s not that he dislikes Alfie, per say. On the contrary, Tommy finds himself thinking frequently of the man, drawn to him like he’s never been drawn to anyone else, be they friend of foe. He’s strong, and broad, and interesting, and exactly the sort of man that Tommy thinks that people would be attracted to. In fact, if Tommy thinks about it for too long, he’d say that he likes Alfie very much. It’s just his first instinct is to draw away in the face of violence and uncertainty, two things of which Alfie had to offer him in spades. Especially if Alfie weren’t all that serious about this, if he’d just like to “take a run” at him, like he’d said, that was too much mystery for too little payoff. Though it’d probably be spectacular.

But… Despite his words, Alfie doesn’t seem all that interested in something quick, a one-off. The way he’s looking at him now, as if Tommy held the fate of the world in his hands certainly seems invested.

“Can I… Can I think about it?” Tommy finally decides on. There’s a tension between them, tension that is not unpleasant.

Alfie nods, expression brightening significantly. He steps forward. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll let you do that.” He looks so large up close, despite not being all that much bigger than Tommy, in reality. “Suppose I’ll go now, then. Give you your time to think on it. On us.”

“Alright.” Tommy manages, the words threatening to get caught in his throat as Alfie continues to approach him. It doesn’t feel menacing. It feels playful, somehow. “Best get back to Camden.”

“Oh, you’ve no idea, treacle. Left the bakery in Ollie’s incompetent hands, you see. I’d be surprised if half of London hasn’t erupted in flames left under his supervision.”

“Ollie’s not that bad,” Tommy offers, lips twisted up a small smile. Alfie takes yet another step closer. He can feel the heat radiating off of his body, the scent of rum and smoke billowing off of him.

“He has his moments.” Alfie nods, face serious, but Tommy can see the amusement in his expression. “Think he just likes to show off, whenever you’re around. Pretty eyes like that will make a man do stranger things.”

Tommy’s smile grows. “The door is behind you, Mr. Solomons.”

“Yeah, yeah it is, isn’t it?” Alfie’s eyes flicker over Tommy’s face, as if trying to memorize what he sees. “I said I’d leave you to think about it, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Tommy nods, “was very courteous of you.”

Alfie’s beard twitches with his concealed grin. “It was very courteous of me, wasn’t it? And I’ve got to check on Ollie now. So I’m leaving.”

“You’re doing a poor job of it.”

“Alright! Alright, I’m going.” Alfie rubs a hand through his whiskers. “Just want to leave you with one more thing to think about, if that’s alright with you.”

“If what’s alright with me—”

Tommy is quickly cut off by Alfie leaning in the final few inches between them, capturing his mouth in a kiss. Alfie’s lips are warm against his, firm and insistent. There’s a hand holding onto his chin, tilting Tommy’s face in exactly the right position to be kissed properly. Tommy’s surprised by it, and surprised by how he melts, how he allows himself to be held onto, his eyes fluttering closed against his volition.

All too quickly, Alfie darts away, ending the kiss far too soon for Tommy’s liking. He opens his eyes again just in time to see Alfie licking his own lips, as if tasting for anything Tommy might have left behind. The man’s fingers, still holding onto his chin, run soothingly up the length of his jaw before he drops the hand once again to his side.

“Alright.” Alfie grins. “I’ll be off then. You give that a bit of thought, Tom.”

“Oh,” Tommy chokes out, body flustered and reeling from the kiss, and from Alfie’s quick withdrawal. By the time he’s managed to pull himself together a bit, Alfie’s already at the door.

The man glances back over his shoulder. He’s still smiling, looking insufferably pleased with himself. “See you soon, sweetie.” With that, he’s out the door.

Tommy stands there, listening to the door swing shut behind Alfie. He lifts a hand up to his own face, traces over the place where Alfie’s hand had touched him, then over where his lips are still tingling with the memory of the kiss. His blood pumps hot through his veins, heart racing.

He stumbles over his own feet in his haste to get to the door.

#tommy/alfie #:~)#my tommy is always OOC and i will not rest until hes happy #my fic

58 notes · View notes

letteredlettered · 4 years ago

Note

Absolutely no pressure to answer if u don't want to but how did u and ur girlfriend meet? U guys seem really cute together.

We are insanely cute together.

This is a long story that doesn’t need to be this long, but whatever. I love my girlfriend and you asked, so here you go.

Last spring I was writing That Lesson Alone, which was making me rethink a lot of things I’d already thought a lot about before. That rethinking made me promise myself to be more open to new experiences, which I try to be, but I do let my social anxiety drive quite a bit of what I do.

So, when I got an email from a fan who said she was going to be in what she thought was my hometown, and she loved my fics, and was I interested in meeting, I said yes. She mentioned she had left a comment on one fic and that we had had a little conversation; I remembered this comment in particular because the personal story in the comment was rather sensational and quite interesting. Still, I might not have agreed to meet, because it could be very awkward. I don��t like talking to strangers with faces. However, because of That Lesson Alone, and because she was fannish, I agreed to the meeting. (I like meeting strangers who are fannish far more than strangers in any other circumstance. At least you can talk about fandom with strangers who are fannish, and I’m very interested in fandom. You can talk about work with work strangers or the bus with strangers you meet at the bus, but most real things bore me so I struggle with these conversations.)

This person sent me another email in another language, which stymied me for a little while about how to reply, but then she quickly sent me another email saying the first email was meant for someone else; the someone else also sounded sensational. When she got to my hometown, she emailed to say she had arrived, but only had a vague idea of when she was leaving, and she had no concrete plans so could meet any time. I began to get the impression that this person was, how do you say, A Ride, by which I mean one of those people who is interesting and clever and sensational but also extremely non-linear and flighty and difficult to understand. I mean she was halfway around the world and didn’t know when she was leaving; she sent the wrong people emails; the people she told me she knew were sensational; she was perfectly bilingual; she was totally down for meeting random strangers. I have a friend who is A Ride. She is what the Sisters at the Abby would call a flibberty-gibbet, a will-o-the-wisp, a darling, a demon, a lamb.

I wanted to meet on a weeknight (I don’t know if you know this, honey, but I told you I wanted to meet on a weeknight because I was busy, but although I can always be busy, so it wasn’t strictly a lie, this wasn’t my main motivation. I wanted to have an excuse to only have a small window of time to meet so that I could get away if it was too awkward), but on the night we arranged to meet, I was unwell. I was in fact entering the worse part of what I have now learned is a chronic illness. Usually this would be enough to convince me to cancel altogether, and to this day I’m shocked that I didn’t. Is it becoming clear that I don’t like meeting anyone and never ever date? Anyway, because of That Lesson Alone and my determination to be open to new experiences, we rescheduled.

I bused to the restaurant where we met after work and then walked from the bus. I remember this walk. I remember doing the thing that I do to prepare myself for social situations I don’t like, which is not letting myself dwell on it too much, reminding myself that I am actually rather good at making other people feel comfortable when I make the effort, reminding myself to ask questions, reminding myself I could get away, reminding myself that people actually find me quite personable and even vivacious, because I am, but if it’s with strangers, only if I fake it hard enough. These little reminders get me into game face, the face I use for dealing with other people.

Anyway, when I met her, she was very tall. This immediately made me more comfortable, as I am very tall and often feel awkwardly large around other people. And then the first thing she told me was that she had been watching something happy and queer, which meant we could not only talk about fannish things but also queer things. But was she going to be one of those people who just went on about straight things being dull? That always makes me uncomfortable.

Luckily, she doesn’t talk that way, and it was such an amazing conversation, the kind of conversation you dream about having with the love of your life, but the one you doubt you’ll have when you actually meet the love of your life. You imagine when you meet the love of your life you’ll have a conversation that goes, “Pass the salt,” and maybe you’ll talk about the weather, and then a few weeks later you meet them again and talk a little more about something equally uninteresting. Not until months pass by do you realize how much you have in common and how much you like being near them, and then you will start to talk about the things that truly interest you, and after years, you realize they’re the love of your life.

Most of the time, when you have a really stunningly good conversation, you don’t assume you’re talking to the love of your life. You assume it’s a once in a lifetime conversation, with a once in a lifetime person, and you never see them again, because they are too smart and too cool and too tall for you. Or, you do see them again, and you keep seeing them, because they are so mystic, so magical; they are so stunning and intelligent and intellectual; they make you feel so much, you just want to talk to them and talk to them and talk to them. And the more you talk, the more you find out that behind the magic, there’s actually not much that you have in common. Sometimes you find out that they trot out the same sensational stories on every occasion; they make the same jokes you found so witty over and over; you find out that everything that was glossy and new about them is something old that has been polished to shine, with very little you can hold on to and firmly understand underneath. Other times you just learn that your moral centers diverge, or you don’t actually like them. There is no fire beyond the initial spark.

This is just not true of my girlfriend. She is still smart and still cool and still sensational and, very importantly, still tall. I would not describe her as A Ride. She’s not one of those people who makes you feel like you have to sit back and hold on; though she’s endlessly clever, she can explain her thought processes and likes to; she thinks deeply about herself and others and listens. She’s so thoughtful and interesting and clever and also deeply passionate and exuberant about so many things that when you’re with her you can create a ride together that both of you drive or both of you sit back and enjoy. (She didn’t know when she was leaving my hometown because her flight back wasn’t for a long while, but she was traveling down to Oregon and California, and hadn’t bought train tickets yet, and we solved how the mistake was made on the email. We are guessing it was an autofill accident, since the person she was trying to email has a name that starts with the same letter).

She is reliable. She has a whiz-bang, knock-you-flat kind of memory, that not only remembers facts and conversations and locations but that remembers how you are feeling, and remembers to ask. She has the kind of broad-yet-also-piercing intellect that can follow an abstract conversation and build on it, even when you’re in the territory of feelings and concepts without names. She always wants to talk about her feelings, which makes me want to genuflect with gratitude, and she’s so hot she’d probably light a candle if she touched its wick. Like definitely keep her away from flammable substances. She’s creative and theatric and theatrically creative. She has big dark hair and curvy hips. She’s generous and accommodating and care-taking in a way that doesn’t negate her own self-interest. She’s gentle. She’s kind.

But anyway, so we got to talking, and it was one of the best conversations of my life, and I got on a bus and went home, very proud of myself for having accomplished A Social Thing, and telling myself, “See? Social Things are not always bad.” She had mentioned that she would be in town a little longer if I wanted to hang out again, but that would just be crazy, as having to do anything social twice in one week is a strain for me, much less with someone I don’t know. But the truth is, I already felt like I knew her, and leave yourself open to new experiences, said That Lesson Alone, and when else was I going to meet a magic person?

Also, I should mention, which I’m not sure I’ve mentioned to her, but I am suspicious of magical people. When I meet magical people I assume they are vampires underneath, by which I mean they are putting on an act, as I said above, or they are one day going to get you in a very difficult situation, because they are A Free Spirit, which, eventually, you find out means they think crime is fun, or something. I’m just a suspicious person, okay.

But we did hang out again. And that was also magical. And I invited her to my apartment, something I’ve barely done with anybody and never ever ever in my whole life with someone I’ve just met. And then I thought about having sex with her, which is something I basically never think about. And then she left town and said she might be in love with me, but at this point I still A LITTLE BIT thought she might be A Ride, in which case she probably fell in love with people all the time.

Usually when I meet someone very cool I assume they don’t want to pursue friendship with me, because they probably have way too many other friends. I think we’ve all been in the situation of knowing someone very popular and realizing that we do not mean as much to them as they do to us. I am always wary of investing too much emotion in someone who does not have the capacity to equally invest in me. However, because investing time in people I don’t know well is such a commitment for me, I’m also frequently guilty of just ghosting people. I often don’t respond to texts or emails. I often just drop people, without ever really meaning to. Part of it is how intently I focus on things—it’s difficult for me to be pulled in many directions at once, so it’s easier to have a few good friends rather than many casual ones. But part of it really is self-confidence, assuming people don’t want to know me.

However, writing That Lesson Alone reminded me that I am allowed to pursue friendships. It made me realize that a lot of my assumptions about people not wanting to know me are my own self-confidence issues, and not actually other people not wanting to know me. Writing That Lesson Alone reminded me I was worth knowing.

So, we kept talking. I was still late to replying to some emails, but I eventually did reply. I even got a new messenger app just to talk to her. We both have an interest in theater. I was directing a play. She expressed interest in seeing it. She was going to be in Canada when it opened. I told her if she wanted to see it she could stay with me if she wanted. I’d never really done anything like that before. She said yes. I still didn’t really think it would happen—but it did. She came to stay with me for a week that summer. I remembered thinking about having sex with her. I remembered thinking she might be open to it.

One of the things I wanted to be open to when I was writing That Lesson Alone was the idea of dating. I used to think that if I was open to dating, I would have to be open to dating lots of people I didn’t want to date; I thought dating meant you had to give everyone “a chance” and suffer through a lot of “pass the salt” just In Case. That’s why I didn’t date. I have actually been happy being mostly single most of my life. I never really felt a strong need for a partner, except in some sadder lonely moments, and even then, I wanted to be alone more than with someone who was just “pass the salt” okay. But one revelation I had writing That Lesson Alone was that I didn’t have to give everyone “a chance.” I didn’t have to give anyone a chance. I could just be open to dating, and look at what was out there (OK Cupid), but if nothing appealed, I didn’t actually have to do anything, since I already knew I was happy being alone. So, I thought more about what would be appealing, so I could know what I was open to.

I realized the person I wanted was tall (natch). With big dark hair. They like reading and talking about fiction and fictional characters. They can have abstract conversations about philosophical topics. And they are caring and accommodating in a way that can deal with an acerbic nature like mine, but they are also self-aware enough and assertive enough to be honest when I’ve hurt them. And they aren’t acerbic back.

This is a tall order. (hahaha) I thought about it a lot, because I really am harsh sometimes. I try not to be. I try very hard. I just get snappy when I’m tired or stressed, and even though I think about it deeply and put measures in place so that it won’t hurt other people, and I reflect on my own behavior and make apologies, I still hurt people. And despite all of this I’m still hurt by anyone that acts like me. I can deal with it! In fact, lots of times I like it, as lots of people like that (myself included) tend to be blunt and I love blunt, because I love knowing where I stand with people. But I also know that, as a rule, I just cannot be extremely close and spend my life with someone who will snap at me. I’m just too sensitive.

Anyway, over this week she stayed with me, I realized she actually was the only person I’d ever met who fit all of these qualifications. She was someone I would date if she was local. Meanwhile, she made it pretty clear she was really, really into me, which was also something that had never really happened to me before. If people have been into me before (which I still doubt, but who knows), they haven’t made it clear. If they thought they were making it clear, they didn’t realize that I am someone who needs heavy, heavy hints in order to understand flirting, even when I see it happening to other people. But luckily my girlfriend is pretty great at making what she wants clear. She made it really clear she wanted me.

So, well, things happened. I told her I wished that we could date and she could be my girlfriend. She asked why we couldn’t. I told her I thought the distance thing was an obvious problem. She didn’t think it was. So then I had a girlfriend, and she did too.

The end.

PS I love her.

#z #i love you!!!#Anonymous

100 notes · View notes

wheep · 4 years ago

Text

Endearing things about Andrew Minyard regarding his eidetic memory:

Never needs to use bookmarks

Doesn't bother making a shopping list if he's the one buying the groceries that week

Remembers all birthday/anniversaries (sometimes the foxes will ask him if any important days are coming up)

OFC doesn't need to study to get perfect grades 🙄🙄(this pisses Kevin and Aaron off the most)

Unbeatable at trivia (the foxes even made a bet where they randomly ask him difficult trivial questions to see if they can find one that Andrew DOESNT have the correct answer to (the pot is very big and hasnt been won yet))

Really good at card games since he can remember each card that has been already played and which haven't

Knows everyone's usual take-out orders and foods they like/dislike

Memorized everyone's class schedules (especially Neil's because you know the mans phone is always dead) just incase he needs to find them for whatever reason

Would definitely be the best gift giver (if he bothered) because he would remember small things that someone mentioned wanting/needing months previous. (This also goes along with remembering everything the foxes ever said they liked/disliked)

Gets used as a human GPS (to his annoyance) since he only needs to look at a map once to know a whole city. As well as a human google!

Will never win the "I never said/did that" argument against him

On a typical Kevin rant, Kevin will sometimes make the mistake of asking "are you even listening to me?" and Andrew will reply by repeating exactly what he had said for the last 5 minutes word for word (exaggerated gestures included). Alternatively, if Kevin is bothering him he will begin to quote the entire a star is born movie until he leaves because of the one time he walked in on Kevin absolutely bawling to it and had begged Andrew to not tell any of the other foxes.

Feel free to add ur own😌!!

#aftg #all for the game #Andrew minyard #the foxhole court #m

87 notes · View notes

jasperwhitcock · 4 years ago

Text

equinox | chapter 07 –– “a cruel god, a wrathful goddess”

here is chapter six of my bella as a vampire and edward as a human fanfic inspired by an au that @bellasredchevy posted. you can read the new chapter on AO3 or here. i post updates on AO3 or on tumblr using the #equinoxjw tag. but it seems 10/10 times my tag does not work, so that is a fun mystery for me to solve.

oof... sometimes u get distracted and then ur sister gets married and then u get unmotivated & d*pressed and forget to update ur fanfic for over three months... my bad y'all... sorry for the wait hehe. i hope it is worth it. again, i'm so thankful for the comments & i read them all. i get too shy to respond, but i WILL. i just need to talk myself up first. i love u. thank u. hehe. ♡♡♡ merry christmas/happy holidays if i fail u again before the 25th. i WANT to update more frequently. my catchphrase these days is "i'm trying my best," so... i'm trying my best.

this is for the sweet anons who slide into my ask box & ask me questions abt my fanfic. and for taryn, who consistently reminds me that there are people wanting to read this seeing as she is one of those people, kim, who i am so desperate to impress that i began working on a new chapter once she started to read my fanfic, and kae, because without her, this fanfic would never have existed in the first place. i love how i'm writing this as though it's the intro to an actual book when it's literally just chapter seven. ok, i will shut up now so u can read. love u. again.

07 A CRUEL GOD, A WRATHFUL GODDESS

In great contrast to the noisy ambience of the other students in the hallway, we were silent on our walk to our shared biology class. I wondered how conscious Edward was of the stares and whispers focused on our proximity to one another, but my guess was that he was very much conscious of it. I intentionally ignored glancing in any direction that I sensed one of my siblings’ presence, although I figured it was mostly paranoia driving me to feel as though we were about to cross paths. Holding my breath to more easily walk beside Edward left my senses impaired to the ability to pinpoint their location.

I was lucky that for the majority of my immortal life, I’d managed to escape unwanted attention. But now, it seemed that precious luck had finally run out. Maybe embarrassment had been creeping up on me, maliciously building itself up all these years, waiting until just the right moment to rear its ugly head and exact revenge that immorality had stolen its favorite object of humiliation to torment. But here it was, ensuring that I was finally catching up on feeling awkward and out of step, a feeling I experienced for what seemed like the entirety of my human life. I thought once I’d been changed, I’d never feel this way again, but becoming misaligned with my family made me feel bashful to parade my defiance in their faces. I had operated better under no scrutiny as a mortal and was surprised to realize that that still held true as an immortal as well. Because though there was now never a struggle of staying upright or a risk of tripping over my own feet, that didn’t prevent me from feeling self-conscious as I walked beside Edward. Although for different reasons –– it was too mortifying to consider what my family might make of what my actions suggested about my feelings towards Edward.

And yet still, I would put up with the ridicule and disapproval of my siblings if it meant I could listen to Edward speak his silly philosophical theology, his questioning of god and existence, for just a few more hours. If I were going to be teased over Alice’s visions regardless, I might as well find out what I can about this pretentious boy before I leave him alone forever. If only to understand why his moving to this small town threatened to warp my own future so much. In losing night and in losing death, there were so very little anomalies in the endless amount of time I’d been given. So what would it hurt to allow myself to fixate on this minuscule difference in my life for just awhile?

It could hurt Edward, a more selfless part of myself reminded me. If indulging myself was playing with fire, I was being justly punished with the way flames were efflorescing the inside of my dry, burning throat.

If a god did exist, why would it make sense for such a being to craft someone like Edward with his perceptivity, and send him off to this small town, home to a secret such as ours? If a god did exist, why it would be fair for such a being to craft someone like Edward, someone who tempted me both in bloodlust and in curiosity, and send him off to this small town, home to the very vampire who desperately wished to kill him most? If a god did exist, if our kind had fallen short of heaven, I could understand why sending Edward into our path –– and more specifically, my path –– could be some kind of punishment. But what I couldn’t understand is why a god would allow someone as innocent as Edward to be endangered for the sake of bringing a sinful, undead creature to justice. It seemed the only reasonable explanation would be that a god probably did not exist.

And how could there be? I was on the precipice of falling into temptation with every step further in the hallway and every question he asked and answered. I could never not be very much aware of the fact –– especially now with his body merely inches from my side and his sweet fragrance blooming both deliciously and relentlessly in the air. And even as I impossibly withstood the lure of his blood, how was I meant to ignore the irresistibility of his mind and how inexplicably concerned I was to understand it? It seemed like a very cruel experiment of free will and knowledge –– far too cruel to allow much room for the kind of god Edward hoped for.

I frowned as I realized that this experiment wasn’t that of a cruel god’s but that of a cruel vampire, and I felt very much like a vampire as the sound of his heartbeat was so appealing that it made my mouth water.

“Do the stares bother you?” Edward spoke quietly to me as we weaved throughout the hallway. Easily distracted, his question was able to pull the more civilized parts of myself together, though this was probably also in thanks to my choosing not to utilize my sense of smell. I found it funny that at least one of his thoughts had been in a similar vicinity. But of course, the rest of his thoughts were probably free of all consuming agony and struggle. For all his curiosity about morality, to inflict this existence upon him would probably devour him in misery. At least as a human, despite whatever conclusions he may come to, there was still some hope to be had for an afterlife. This thought should have been dark and depressing, but because it made Alice’s vision seem like a complete hoax, I almost found it funny. How would Edward ever end up like me?

“Oh, no,” I swallowed the venom in my mouth. “I live for attention.” I watched from the corner of my eyes as his gaze flickered over to me, the ever present half smile appearing on his face at my joke. My answer came out so comfortably as though I was used to this, when in reality, the student body for the most part had grown accustomed to ignoring me. And, of course, there was nothing comfortable about the demanding, aching dryness in my mouth or the burning in my nostrils. “How about you?”

“Likewise,” he joked, laughing. “This is interesting –– their fascination. I understood their interest on my first day because I’d guess a new addition to the student body in a town this small is something of a rarity, but today, walking by your side is garnering even more attention. Is it a once in a lifetime opportunity to have Bella Cullen walk you to class?”

“You’re just so observant, aren’t you?” I rolled my eyes, though the corners of my mouths pulled up despite myself. “And I’m not walking you to class. I’m walking to a class I just so happen to share with you, so don’t get the wrong idea. I think they’re just surprised because they’re probably under the impression that I don’t play nice with others.”

“And do you?”

“You tell me,” I replied, pausing to face him beside a wall of lockers next to the entrance of our biology classroom. As he stopped beside me, a gust of air from a passing student walking hastily down the hallway sent his scent reeling into me at an unfortunate moment where I’d chosen to breathe in. My muscles tensed to spring, and I desperately anchored myself to the floor as my mind fell into disarray.

“Nicely enough,” Edward winked naturally as though we’d been the best of friends since his first day. The demanding thirst was intruding on my awareness, and the desperation for something wet and hot and delicious in my desiccated throat was so dizzying that his voice sounded as though it were underwater. With an effort as though I were swimming through drying cement, I resurfaced, just barely proving my dominion over the desire. I focused on his voice so that it’d become clearer, forcing myself to take another excruciating breath in and exhale the fire out. “I will say I am honored to be the exception –– to be plucked from the masses by the renowned, reclusive Bella Cullen.”

With torturous effort, I snorted as though I wasn’t fighting everything within me to keep him alive. I breathed in again heavily, allowing my body to become a pyre so that I could speak. “Alright, that’s enough. Stop saying my name like that. And you’ve lost the privilege. I am never walking you to class again,” I rolled my eyes even though my joke could very much be the truth. The bunching of my muscles, the twitching of my hands, and the fierce pain in my throat reminded me of the fact. Before he could point out the contradiction of what I’d previously clarified, I sighed. “Let’s take this quiz.”

His pretty green eyes were alive with mischief and enlightened with what must be more answers to questions he hadn’t outright asked me as he turned to enter the classroom. I followed behind him towards our shared table.

Air from the vent rushed out, thrusting the scent of his blood wafting into my face again. I paused for an indistinguishable moment as I battled agony, murderousness, monstrosity. Holy fuck. What was I trying to prove! Was it really worth this? Swallowing hard, I sat beside him as though nothing happened. My suffering was so great that Emmett could have brutally ripped my arm off, he could have beat me with it, and I wouldn’t have noticed nor felt a thing. I could have been set on fire, and it’d feel like sinking into a cool pool of water on an even cooler day. I was already burning alive, my body acting as a furnace, and I was imprisoned inside it.

Without intending to, I sighed aloud, exhaling as though it would smother the flames. It was a stupid, attention seeking thing to do. Humans sighed to expel air or express some sadness or relief or exhaustion, so when my family emitted an audible breath, we did so as a means of blending in. But to breath out in a way to clue Edward into the fact something was plaguing me… it was a stupid invitation for more questions. And these were questions I had no intention of sharing the answers to. I felt his eyes on me, but before he could say anything, Mr. Molina began passing out quizzes face down on our lab tables as students continued to pile in from lunch.

“Alright, class. Today we have a pop quiz–– oh, come on, guys, don’t groan. You will have the opportunity to make corrections after these have been graded. This is just an assessment of what you’ve retained from this unit so far. You will have the entire period to complete–– thanks for joining us, Mr. Patterson, glad you could fit my class into your busy schedule. Why don’t you take your seat? –– You will have the entire period to complete your quiz. If you finish early, feel free to get a head start on this weekend’s homework! I’ve written the reading down on the board. Aw, I’m sure you’re all moaning because you’re disappointed at how light of an assignment it is because I just know how very excited you all are to continue your passionate pursuit of studying biology. Alright, now that everyone’s settled–– wait a minute––” Mr. Molina paused, raising his pointer finger in the air, his eyes squinted in anticipation. Three seconds later, the bell signaled the beginning of class. “Begin!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward reluctantly turn away from me. In an elegant script, he wrote his name at the top of the paper and began his quiz. I turned away from him to look at my own paper, preparing myself to uncomfortably hold my breath for the next hour. The difference this made in my thirst was almost insignificant, but enough so that it gave me a tiny more leverage in my control. I smoothed out the pucker on my forehead with the eraser from my pencil, accidentally snapping the rubber off against my face.

Absentmindedly, I began to breeze through the assessment, circling the correct answers, but my mind was more absorbed in the warmth of sitting beside Edward. Aside from the affliction of doing so, it was too pleasurable to have sat beside him so often and for so long today. I enjoyed the toastiness like a lizard basking in the sun. It made me recall the muddy human memory of laying out on a blanket in my backyard beneath my beloved blue Arizona sky, hiding beneath the small shade of a book. Not the blistering heat of a summertime Phoenix sun, but the warmth of the first day of spring. But the heat of Edward’s body alone was enough to fill my mouth with venom, so I tried to refocus my attention onto my quiz.

When I turned to the last page of questions, a motion beside me diverted my concentration once again. I peeked over, turning my head slightly in Edward’s direction to see what it was. As he thought over one of the questions, his right hand was moving peculiarly as he lifted and dropped down his long fingers almost as though he were impatiently tapping each digit one by one along the tabletop. Except the movement was more exact and calculatingly random. Engrossed, I watched as his his soft, fragile skin rippled over the muscle, the tendons appearing and disappearing with every bizarre movement. It took me a moment to make the connection between the large grand piano in his home and the motion of his hands. I realized he was miming piano movements while he thought through his answers. There was something both weird, funny, and endearing about this. I smiled to myself, not having the required oxygen to quietly laugh.

I felt his curious eyes flicker over to me and watched peripherally as he raised his eyebrows. I shook my head, biting down on my lip to unsuccessfully fight the smile, and returned to completing my quiz.

I finished a moment later and impatiently waited another ten minutes or so before I could turn in my work. I tried to ignore Edward for this small period of time at least, mentally reading myself the opening chapter to Wuthering Heights. Even though the words were committed to my memory, it was still never as good as actually reading from the book itself.

Once I’d decided an appropriate enough time had passed, I stood up to walk my quiz to the completed basket on Mr. Molina’s desk. Even having waited, I was still the first to finish the examination.

“Thank you,” the teacher whispered without breaking his focus away from the crossword puzzle he peered through his glasses at. I breathed in now that I’d placed some distance between myself and Edward, gladly facing the cool, fresh air from the vent.

“Neophyte,” I whispered back now that I’d replenished my oxygen supply.

“Excuse me?” He glanced up, his slightly aged face confused.

“Neophyte,” I repeated. “Eight across, two down.”

I took in one last clean breath and walked back to my seat as he tapped his pen across the squares of the space, mouthing his count of the letters to check if the word fit.

As soon as I took my place in my seat again, Edward stood up to walk his own quiz to the basket.

I wanted to watch him, but instead I forced myself to unzip my backpack and retrieve the biology textbook.

Busying myself with the assigned chapters, deciding to actually read them so as to not feed into my invasive Edward obsession, I couldn’t help but listen as Edward too placed his own textbook on the countertop.

I heard the scribble of pen on paper as he began to write what I imagined were notes until his large hand slid the paper over to me beneath the wall of my hair spilling over the desk. Well, I wouldn’t ignore him if he was the one deciding to bother me.

You know I’m pretty certain that cheating is a violation of the student handbook, but I’ll let you get away with it just this once.

I turned to glance at his face to see if he were serious. His eyes were warm and inviting, his mouth in the same crooked smile.

I took the piece of paper and looked around for my writing utensil that had gone missing somehow. My eyes zeroed in on a suspicious, tiny pile of wood dust on my side of the desk. When had I brutalized my pencil? He held his hand out to offer his own pen, and I accepted it, carefully plucking it from his fingers without making contact.

I wasn’t cheating. You were doing something funny. And what do you know about the student handbook? You’re new.

I slid the paper and pen back to him and watched as he combed a hand through his bronze hair, reading my response. The smile grew wider as he construed the biting tone of my note.

Can I be let in on the joke? Edward wrote, turning to look at me once he was done. Again I was prisoner, though this time not to my own body. I was momentarily held hostage by the beauty and warmth of his light green eyes. I was understanding more and more the attraction the other students had for him. If I had a soul, it was as though he were staring straight into it.

I recovered, placing my hand atop the desk and then wiggling my fingers as though I were weaving my way through a very complicated piano piece.

Oh, Edward mouthed, immediately understanding. He silently laughed and placed his left hand to his forehead briefly as if to hide his face in mock embarrassment. The ink from the pen spilled onto the paper as he began to write again.

In my defense, there’s research that supports classical music puts students in a heightened emotional state, making them more receptive to information and helping them focus.

That’s very nerdy of you. I scribbled back, the corners of my lips pulled upwards.

I know. As I read the words on the notebook paper, we both laughed a little too loudly for the quietness of the room.

“Please remain silent for your classmates still working,” Mr. Molina stage-whispered from his desk, his eyes still fixated on the crossword puzzle.

It’s a bad habit. Edward tacked on to his message. I beamed. I knew a thing or two about bad habits today. I was appreciative of this silent conversation on paper; it made it easier to be beside him without needing to breathe to speak aloud.

What were you playing? I scrawled.

Clair de Lune. Edward wrote back. His thick eyebrows raised as my eyes lit up, and he continued writing. You know Debussy?

My mother used to play a lot of classical music around the house. It was one of my favorites.

It’s one of my favorites, too. Edward’s eyes were a little sad and lost in thought, and he smiled softly.

I was shocked by the change in expression and weirdly desperate to return the brightness back to his eyes. The burn in my throat was almost forgettable in the face of my concern. Almost, but not quite. He turned his head down to write on the paper again.

You said Rosalie played piano. You never learned? He turned to look at me, his expression curious. I shook my head and shrugged, reaching for the pen.

I didn’t think I had the coordination for it. While this was true for the time I was human, it wasn’t true now. Still, even though my days stretched into endless nights, I hadn’t yet devoted time to any instrument as an immortal.

Edward read the paper, his long pointer finger tracing the line beneath the words as he did so. He held his large hand out, and I dropped the pen into it.

I’ll show you sometime. Edward half smiled at me, his eyes sweet and earnest.

Knowing I shouldn’t be allowing him to think making a plans with me was an option, I reached for the pen to tell him that it was alright, but I froze as he suddenly moved to drop the pen and take my hand. Though he should have been the one hesitant and cautious as though approaching a dangerous, wounded animal, I held perfectly still as though he were the danger, and I needed to play dead for protection. You can’t play dead if you are dead, I thought to myself.

My body tensed as my hand was enveloped in the heat of his much larger palm, uncertain as to what he was doing. My muscles screamed at me as I clenched my free hand into a tight fist, terrified of myself.

A shiver rippled through him as he felt the chill of my frozen fingers, and I twitched the hand in his possession, wanting to yank it away to protect him from the iciness but not wanting to alert him with the swiftness of the motion.

He smiled mysteriously at the spasm as though he somehow expected it. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking but didn’t want to risk breathing. My control could too easily be lost. Besides, I was scared that if I were to open my mouth, I’d end up screaming.

I felt him push slightly and realized he wished for me to curl my fingers, so with great concentration and the acute awareness of his fragility, I moved my stony hand into the shape he directed, my fingers curved slightly beneath his like a relaxed talon. I didn’t like the shape; it was odd and inhuman and made me think of the violence I could cause.

But it wasn’t a claw. Because once my hand was positioned the way he wanted, he began to slowly place pressure on my fingers, and I dipped and rose them accordingly to carefully move with his. I watched as the two of our hands together played what I imagined must be the opening chords to Clair de Lune.

The disconcerting emptiness in my chest soared at the bizarre pleasure of this touch, and a weird sensation tickled my scalp, moving swiftly down my spine to my entire body.

My muscles tightened violently and then relaxed, sending a shiver to ripple through me. It was too much pleasure and too much pain as my throat ached and I leaned into the warmth.

Embarrassed and not wanting to push my luck, I cautiously pulled my hand slowly away. He lifted his hand to allow me to escape as though I couldn’t just break his hand to do so, a half-smile pulling on his lips. I pretended not to notice the goosebumps on his arms.

See? he mouthed before deciding to whisper. “You could do it.”

I forced myself to smile and then turned away for the rest of the hour, trying to keep from doing anything stupid like looking at him or killing him. I’d completely forgotten where we were.

When the bell finally rung, I collected my things atop the desk hastily. Edward reached for my backpack and held it up for me.

“Thanks,” I murmured as I dumped my books into the bag. Before I could take it from him, he slid it onto his back and nodded his head once for me to go forward.

Feeling awkward, I turned and allowed him to follow me to the door. I was lucky to walk in front of him, taking the opportunity to breath again as the vent blew out in front of my face.

Exiting the classroom, I paused for a second when I saw Emmett waiting for me across the hallway rather than his typical spot beside the wall of lockers next to our shared Spanish classroom. Even though I was well aware of the fact I’d been dangling my irresponsibility in their faces all day, I still felt as though I was being caught in the act.

Emmett’s eyebrows raised as his golden eyes watched Edward follow behind me, carrying my backpack. I crossed the hallway reluctantly towards my big brother.

“Hello,” I greeted him, avoiding his eyes. I felt smaller than ever beside him with my head down, and yet not small enough as I wished to disappear.

“Hey, little sis,” Emmett began uncertainly, though I glanced up to see his full lips were beginning to stretch into a smile that I didn’t like. “Who’s that with you?”

“Uh…”

“I’m Edward Masen,” the lanky human boy introduced himself confidently as he stopped beside me. “And you must be––”

“Emmett,” my brother interrupted, grinning as though he always so comfortably interacted with humans. This was all too weird, but he looked to be enjoying it far too much. His desire to mess with me and his confidence in Alice’s visions seemed to override the abnormality of speaking to a student so amicably. I watched as he breathed in and shot me a meaningful look. I grimaced.

I opened my mouth to put an end to this torturously awkward interaction, but Emmett interrupted again.

“It’s nice to see you made a friend,” he began, an evil glint in his eyes as he watched my face. I was confused as to where he was going with this because our entire family would come across as misanthropic to the rest of the school, so why should it matter to him. He turned his attention to look at Edward who was closer in height to him. “You know, we worry about her––”

“Okay, let’s go to Spanish,” I cut him off quickly. “Edward, can I have my bag, please?”

Without looking at him, I reached for my backpack as he offered it and threw it over my shoulder, heading down the hallway. It was a massive relief to put some distance between myself and Edward. My thoughts were clearer, and I could breathe freely.

Emmett burst into laughter, his guffaws booming in the hallway. Several students paused in fear making me concerned about Edward’s reaction to my giant of a sibling, but I relaxed when I heard Edward chuckling along with him.

“Um, see you,” Emmett said to Edward before his steady, near silent footfall followed after me.

Even moving at a lethargic human pace, he caught up to me quickly.

“That wasn’t funny,” I grumbled.

“What the hell are you doing?” Emmett chuckled, ignoring my question.

“What the hell are you doing? What was that back there?”

“I don’t know. That was weird, but not as weird as you playing with your food.”

I hissed quietly.

“Damn, I’m kidding, Bells. But seriously, what are you doing? What happened to your high and noble speech about doing the right thing and staying away from the kid? I thought Esme was about to produce real tears. It even softened Rose.”

“Ugh, don’t talk to me about Rosalie right now. She’s been giving me dirty looks all day. It makes me feel awful. I already feel bad!”

“Well, I don’t really care what you do either way so––” I looked at him questionably. “I mean, sure, I want you to do the right thing, whatever that means. I don’t want you to feel miserable. But on one end, I didn’t really mind so much what happened to me.”

“Rosalie did,” I countered.

“Yeah, Rose did,” he acquiesced quietly.

“Anyways, I’m not having that conversation. I wasn’t talking to him today to test whether or not he’s worth it. That’s… unethical.”

“So what were you doing?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned in answer.

Emmett laughed.

“You’re weird these days, Bella.”

“You’re weird everyday,” I quipped back before sighing. “I don’t know. He’s weird, too. I guess… I’m not making any decisions, at all, but if Alice told you what she told me… wouldn’t you be curious?”

Emmett thought it over. “Yeah, I think so. But I also don’t think I’d have even made it to this point,” he admitted. I winced.

“It’s kind of unfair for me to care more about satiating my curiosity and dance with the devil this way, right?”

“Well…he may not know it, but isn’t it more so that Edward’s the one dancing with the devil?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, frowning as we walked into our Spanish class. “I guess it is.”

I made the decision to avoid thinking of Edward for the remaining hour of school. I paid very little attention in Spanish, returning to the familiar mind-numbing boredom that classes had been prior to the last few days. Now that it was in stark contrast to the sudden life breathed into my time at Forks High School by my fixation with Edward, the tedium was no longer something dealt with indifferently and sluggishly. Now, it left me feeling restless, and it almost pained me how laborious it was to sit through a life I wasn’t an active participant in. It was nowhere near the pain of dealing with the excruciating thirst I had around my bronze-haired lab partner, but it almost tampered with my thoughts more knowing I’d feel less miserable if I spent this time analyzing every word Edward shared with me, every fluctuation of his tone, every glint in his perceptive eyes, every expression on his pretty face… But I was becoming too obsessive. The same hunger for adventure that made me fall in love with reading must be what was leading me to so treacherously, so impetuously dive into exploring this insignificant and yet cataclysmic difference in my life.

As though it had a personal vendetta against me, time moved even more lethargically than it ever had before, but finally, the bell signaling the end of school rang. Emmett’s eyes shot a concerned look at me as I rose from my seat too quickly, and I immediately felt embarrassed again. The cautious reminder in his expression made me feel childish as Emmett was never one to care much about bending the rules.

“See you at home, I guess,” he shook his head, giving me one last look that seemed to suggest I’d lost it.

“See you,” I mumbled, slinging my bag over my shoulder. Leaving Emmett behind to wait for Rosalie, I weaved through the crowded hallway and out to the parking lot. Students were bundling together and squealing at the chilling air as tiny, fluffy snowflakes fluttered down from the overcast sky. The floor of the parking lot was almost as glassy as yesterday as the rain from this afternoon had melted into a thin layer of icy mush. Though there was hardly enough snow for a decent snowball fight, some of the rowdier students were bundling up a pitiful pile of snow to form pathetic snowballs in their fists.

I nearly skipped to the pearly white vehicle parked beside Rosalie’s overly conspicuous crimson car which was forming a small crowd of admirers. Leaning against the trunk of the car, I watched the front doors of the school to look for Edward.

The tangle of reddish-brown hair was easy to spot because of its strange metallic tint as he strolled out of the building with Naomi, the student who’d provided him with the information about my family on his first day. He had his coat folded over his arm, revealing how form fitting his light tan turtleneck was. He truly was a very attractive boy. It was odd that I hadn’t really paid much attention initially. With his dazzling face and tall, lean frame, Edward was pretty enough that for the vampires who searched for exquisitely beautiful humans to create into even more stunning immortals, he could probably be a contender for someone to collect.

Thinking of how Emmett questioned my motives today, I quickly banished the idea of Edward as an immortal from my mind, even if it was only a hypothetical inspired by my observation.

Edward paused, asking Naomi if she could hold on to his backpack for a moment. When she grabbed it, he pulled on his long black coat, and fiddled with the collar. Recollecting his backpack, he slid it onto one shoulder, then rubbed his hands together, blowing the warm air from his mouth to heat them up. Thinking of the sweetness of the smell of his breath made me remember to take in swallows of fresh air before he made his way over to me.

As he was distracted momentarily, I watched as a stray snowball flew towards Edward’s head. I was overcome with the urge to intercept it in the event it may hit him too harshly and knock him to the pavement, but flying across the parking lot inhumanly fast twice in one week was probably not the way to go about correcting my mistakes.

The soggy snowball crashed into Edward’s hair, exploding into shards of ice and water that slid down his prominent cheekbone. I laughed aloud at his shocked expression as the curtain bangs framing his face were immediately drenched, darkening his hair into a brown color. Once he’d realized what happened, his face broke into a good-humored smile.

“Holy shit! Sorry, Edward!” The classmate who had thrown the snowball with poor aim called out.

“No worries!” Edward called back. He shook his head, chuckling as he wiped the water from his face. As he laughed, his eyes found the space where I waited and brightened seeing that I, too, was enjoying the moment.

“Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told Naomi, who was too beside herself in tears of laughter to reply.

Edward sauntered over towards me, and I inhaled deeply as a fortuitous whisper of wind blew from the tree line. I held onto the notes of crisp eucalyptus, fresh snow, and cedar wood, trying to distract my mind from the offensively mouthwatering scents approaching me.

Edward was a coordinated human, but even he lost his footing on the icy pavement. His body slid forward for a moment, but I stepped towards him to close the space between us and caught him by the elbow.

He looked up from his boots against the frozen parking lot into my eyes, startled momentarily at the swiftness in which I had appeared. Then, his full lips lifted into a crooked smile that creased his astonishing green eyes into half moons. I let go immediately and took a big step back to ensure a safer distance between myself and the warmth of his fragile body. It had been a risky movement, but somehow in comparison to yesterday, it didn’t seem to matter as much. I figured our classmates were too involved in their gawking at the details of my sister’s car or their feeble, slushy snowball fight to notice, and oddly, I didn’t care that Edward had seen. It was beginning to feel too late to keep up certain pretenses.

Although, it wasn’t too late, and it shouldn’t feel that way. I reminded myself I still had every intention of leaving Edward alone once I’d figured out what was so compelling about our paths crossing that had Alice’s visions spiraling in a confusing jumble. I took another step back slowly.

“Thank you,” Edward said, his eyes humored with another secret he didn’t seem willing to share. “You keep saving me.”

“Well, let’s not make this damsel in distress thing habitual,” I snorted, turning so that he couldn’t see the smile forming on my face. I felt shy about showcasing any comfort or happiness in his presence now that I was reminded of how fleeting this experimental friendship was, but I wondered if subconsciously I wanted him to catch me in my misery and ask me to explain, though I wasn’t certain why I wanted to sabotage myself like that. I opened my door and turned to look at him again. “You coming?”

Before he could answer, I dipped into the driver’s seat, and breathed in one last time. Well, once this was all over, I could finally stop inhaling dramatically as though they were truly my last, dying breaths. The air was mostly clean of his scent, but I knew that regardless, the heat of his body would be enough to disrupt my comfort and control. As the thought crossed my mind, I painfully swallowed back the venom pooling beneath my tongue.

Edward swerved through the crowd obsessing over Rosalie’s car and opened the passenger door, sliding into his seat. As he placed his backpack on the floor and fiddled with his seatbelt, I made sure to adjust the air conditioning so that the heat could warm Edward from the frigid Forks air. Though for me, just being in his presence made the intimate interior of the car feel as though I were again sitting by his fireplace.

“That’s a beautiful car,” he murmured. “Is it an M8?”

“Uh, it’s a BMW?” I asked uncertainly as though he’d spoken another language.

Edward grinned as though he wanted to laugh but didn’t want to make me angry. Rosalie would have loved to answer all his questions if he too had an interest in cars. Would have loved to, if she wasn’t deeply offended by my actions or if I had any intention of Edward meeting any more of my family members.

“Ready?” I bit my lip as I forced out any inconsiderate plots of murder that threatened to distract me from being a defensive driver.

“Mhm,” Edward answered.

I reversed out of the parking slot slowly, but as I looked in the rearview once I’d straightened out, I saw the fleeting image of Rosalie’s exquisitely beautiful and exceptionally angry face. I quickly readjusted the mirror to remove my sister’s reflection and sped out of the parking lot in a way that could have taken out a few unlucky students if I didn’t have above average years of driving experience.

Peripherally, I watched as Edward’s thick eyebrows raised, but he decided not to question me. Once we’d reached the main road, I slowed my speed so as not to rush through this time, even though I knew for his safety and my sanity, I should. As I drove, his right hand moved in odd shapes again against the arm rest of the passenger side door as though he were playing piano once more.

I decided to bite and use up some of my limited air supply.

“What are you playing?”

“Clair de Lune again,” he replied. Then, he began to hum the melody aloud for me as he moved his hand.

I thought to offer to play the song for him through the speakers, but I decided against it as I listened to Edward’s soft, velvety voice hum beautifully through the song, breaking the silence.

The ugly, slush-like falling of snow transformed into a falling of rainwater, and Edward’s voice was orchestrated by a lovely symphony of raindrops.

Before his voice could weave into the more involved moments of the piece, Edward stopped.

I looked over at him, curious for the reason as to why. His face was turned away from me so that all I could see was his untidy bronze hair as he gazed out the window. I pulled in front of his driveway and parked against the curb.

Miraculously, I’d made it again. Carefully, I inhaled through my nose to experiment with my control. The sweet bouquet of the boy’s blood was potent and even more mouthwatering than usual from the snow turned rain that’d wet his hair. I hadn’t considered the possibility that he could smell better than before, and I kept myself from groaning aloud as I dug my nails into my own palms. The tingling sensation in my nose was as though I’d sniffed some powerful chemical, the burning sensation in my throat as though I’d taken a long drag of a cigarette. But more painful. More demanding. Desire, need flew from my core out towards my extremities, and the beating of his heart pumping the blood through his body drummed loudly in my ears. It seemed to move through me, my frigid body almost twitching with every pulse, ready to lunge forward and crush his neck to my lips.

“What was your mother like?” He asked me suddenly, his voice soft. Edward turned from the window to face me, and I was bewildered by the intensity of his expression. His eyes were light and beautiful against the gloomy grey of the sky, and they squinted slightly as though studying my face like this information was absolutely essential. But this was not what stunned me, as I’d already seen the severity of this expression before in our ephemeral time together. It was the unexpected vulnerability of his stunning face. The more time I spent looking at him, the more I realized how beautiful this human boy really was. And it seemed a great tragedy for this beautiful boy to harbor such devastation in his eyes.

Whereas previously in his presence, my thoughts had become incoherent due to a lapse in control, now my thoughts were incoherent in distress and desperation to understand what had gone wrong and how I could fix it. I was momentarily dumbfounded, but I pulled myself together after the soft sound of a few droplets of rain against the roof reminded me that he was waiting for an answer.

“Well, she looked a lot like me, but prettier,” I began stupidly. He raised his eyebrows. “Or at least, she used to look a lot like me, and I used to look a lot like her. I don’t so much anymore.” It’d been so long since I’d really spoken about my mom, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. I knew I should have made some comment about whether or not she looked like Esme or Emmett since our story made us siblings, but I didn’t want to taint the rarity of sharing who she was with a lie.

“She was more outgoing than I am,” I continued, thinking through the foggy memories I held onto from my human life.

“That’s difficult to believe,” Edward teased quietly, his lips curving into a half smile.

I laughed, listening to the melodic sound of it, thinking of how it symbolized how very much different I was now from the human girl my mother knew.

“I was always very shy,” I smiled, before speaking up again, caught in the echoes of my past. “She was brave and irresponsible and slightly eccentric. And she was a very unpredictable cook!”

I laughed aloud again thinking of some minor explosions in our tiny kitchen and some questionable dishes. Edward laughed too, but when our laughter faded into the falling of the rain, my smile faded.

“She wasn’t perfect,” I admitted. “I think I recognize now that she was very fallible. I worshipped her when I was younger, but when I think back, I do see how in some of the ways she raised me, I was done a disservice… I grew up too fast. When she died––“ I sighed, feeling insincere and guilty about perpetuating this lie when I really should have said when I died, “––Esme became more of a mother to me, and even Rosalie’s been more traditionally nurturing than my mom ever was… But still, she was my best friend.”

“You miss her,” he murmured simply. I met his gentle eyes.

“Yes,” I bit my lip.

“How old are you, Bella?” Edward asked. “And not the formulaic, theorized version where you were born in your thirties. How old are you really?”

I tensed, wondering if he was asking this again because he’d taken note of how I didn’t directly answer this question the last time he asked.

“Seventeen,” I answered automatically.

“You don’t seem seventeen,” he responded, reproachful.

The tension left my body at the tone of his voice. I smiled again easily.

“Sorry?” I asked, biting my lip to hide the smile, unsure of how to respond.

Edward chuckled and the subtle crinkles by his eyes lit up his face. “Well, I wish you’d been given a happier, normal childhood.”

“I’m fine,” I shrugged, brushing it off. “I hardly remember most of it, and what I do remember reminds me that I probably didn’t have much chance at a normal childhood to begin with. I was terribly shy, remember.

“I did do girl scouts, though….Oh, and ballet briefly,” I admitted, unsure as to why I was volunteering so much information about myself. Wasn’t the purpose of me sitting here to uncover information about him?

“Why does that make you… embarrassed?” Edward’s eyebrows pulled up.

For an odd moment, I felt betrayed by the flush of my cheeks before I realized there was no blood rushing to my face. I blinked, bewildered by the peculiarity of this long buried instinct to become frustrated with my easy blushes when I hadn’t blushed for years. I felt self conscious as I wondered what Edward saw reading my expression to so perfectly decipher my feelings.

“I was very uncoordinated,” I dismissed his question as I fought the urge for my hand to flutter to touch my cool cheek.

“Now that truly is difficult to believe,” Edward half-smiled. “I can’t imagine I’ve seen anyone as graceful as you.”

I laughed aloud at his compliment, though I didn’t doubt his sincerity. I knew this was true of myself. It was true of all of our kind to appear fluid and effortless, but still, no one had ever applied the word to me. My vampiric poise was irrelevant and unimpressive to my family, and the very few humans brave enough to overcome their nerves to compliment me typically found their words to fail them.

“You’re very odd,” I beamed.

“What do you mean?” The bronze-haired boy asked, again wanting to be let in on the secret. While I had an insatiable thirst, it seemed he had an insatiable curiosity.

“How old are you really? Your word choice is bizarre for someone your age, you know.”

“Oh,” he laughed easily. “Well, I’m actually not seventeen. I’m eighteen. But I’ll try to strictly adhere to a more teenage vernacular, so I can compliment you in a more acceptable way from now on.”

I looked out at the dim light of the brewing storm, my smile fading as I decided that I should probably allow him to escape me before I did something I’d regret. But I knew I wasn’t resolved enough to completely leave him alone. He made me monopolize too much of the conversation, and I wasn’t satisfied with what I knew about him yet.

I sighed aloud, and Edward, too, looked out at the rain darkened sky.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked hopefully, making the assumption that our conversation was coming to an end.

“Yes,” I promised reluctantly. My eyes flickered back over to his pretty face, studying the lines of his strong jaw, his chiseled cheekbones, his full lips, committing this inconsequential face to memory as I silently resolved that this should be –– and would be –– one of the last times I’d allow myself to be this close to him. Tomorrow may well be the very last.

Likewise, as though his thoughts were in the same vein, his beautiful green eyes studied my face as well, though he did so in that mysterious way of his where he looked at me as though hoping to read my mind.

He sighed, then collected his backpack. Edward opened the door, stepping out into the bitterly cold weather. A shiver ran through his lanky body, making my body tense with perverse excitement. I cringed away from the deadly instinct and swallowed against the dryness of my yearning throat.

Edward’s tall, lean frame leaned down to peek into the car.

“Goodnight, Bella,” he spoke softly.

“Goodnight, Edward,” I almost whispered, gazing into the beauty of his dazzling green eyes.

Edward smiled his half smile, and closed the door, escaping into the building torrent of rain.

I gasped in relief at his absence, then stiffened realizing how the cab of the car was still heavily perfumed with his scent. I took in another deep breath, forcing myself to confront the burning thirst again, willing myself to manage it. I sighed as I hit the gas, making Edward disappear behind me.

Both my control and the rain pour strengthened significantly as I turned onto the long drive leading to my house. I grimaced as I wondered how I’d face my family and explain the complete reversal of what I’d promised to do. I didn’t have time to consider for much longer as suddenly, a figure appeared instantaneously in the drive. I slammed my foot on the brake immediately in shock at its appearance, not wanting to total yet another car against one of my siblings.

I peered through the windshield, unable to see through the complete downpour that submerged my vehicle as though it were underwater. It was annoying for my perfect sight to be obstructed by anything, rainwater or even the transparent windshield because of my eyes’ desire to focus on the microscopic scratches.

The car violently screeched against the muddy pavement, and it looked as though we would have to bid this car goodbye until the figure hidden by the storm placed their hands out on the car roughly and forced it to a stop. The tires screamed in protest, and the metal groaned as it warped into the shape of the palms. I listened as it unnaturally bent again in a piercing moan as the figure fixed the indentions they’d created.

My windshield wipers swatted away a flood of water. Finally, I could make out my sister Rosalie, her hair dripping wet down her back like a supermodel who’d just emerged from a pool on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Her exquisite face was absolutely furious.

I gulped, feeling like a child who’d just been discovered sneaking home past curfew.

I felt uncertain as to what to do and why she’d chosen to stop me here. Surely she could wait for us to be under the cover of the garage before she chastised me. Not wanting to be drenched by the rain, I revved the engine to ask her to move aside, but the car didn’t inch forward against her strength. Beginning to feel annoyed, I revved the engine again loudly and for longer, but still, she didn’t move.

“Rose,” I hissed as I hit the brake again so that the car could roar viciously in the storm, only to be cut off by the voice of my adopted mother.

“Girls!” I couldn’t see Esme through the obscured glass behind the downpour, but even with the barrage of the rain, I could hear her lithe steps run furiously to the front porch. “Please!”

Rose’s head snapped up to look in Esme’s direction before turning to glance unhappily back at me. She stepped aside, and I sped into the garage, parking the car hastily.

I exited immediately and went to expect the damage to the front of the hood. It was only a minuscule bend from having been pushed and prodded back and forth, and I was positive Rosalie could make it look like new, though why it had been necessary to punish the car was beyond me. It wasn’t even mine.

I wheeled around once I’d heard the near-silent steps of her run, a wave of anger making me forget my guilt.

“Are you insane?!” I demanded.

“I could ask the same of you, Bella!” Now free from the obscurity of the rain, I could see in perfect detail the stunning fury of her glorious face. Her golden hair had been darkened by the rain, and it was slicked back effortlessly, like a glittering waterfall down to the middle of her back. She looked like a wrathful god, but I couldn’t find it in my stubbornness to care about how valid her anger may be.

“Okay, but did you have to take it out on the car? What did it ever do to you! You couldn’t have waited another twenty seconds to confront me? Well, you have my attention now, Rosalie, so say whatever it is you want to say!”

“You’re just unbelievable, Bella!”

“He’s not going to say anything, Rose! We already talked about this yesterday. You heard Alice! He’s not a threat to you and Emmett, so I don’t understand why you’re taking this so personally.”

“Exactly, Bella. I heard Alice. Which is precisely why I fail to understand as to why you wouldn’t understand why I’d take it so personally. After all these years of sisterhood, how can you not understand how I feel about this?”

I frowned, my forehead puckering, but still, I retained my anger. She huffed, continuing.

“If it was an inevitability, I’d understand. However, it hurts me deeply that you recognize the choice that you have. The choice that Edward has. And still, you’re willing to play with his mortality as though it were a game, when I never had that choice.”

I froze, the realization dawning on me that she was right. No matter the ways in which I tried to justify my actions or spin my intentions, she was right. Another part of my mind acknowledged that while I was aware of right and wrong, I wasn’t certain that what was right would be enough to keep me away anymore.

We stared each other down much like we had yesterday. Only today, rather than anger, her face was contorted in hurt, and mine was contorted in hopelessness.

“But… you found Emmett when he was still human…” I weakly protested, selfishly trying to highlight the irony, though I knew it was pointless as I wasn’t advocating for Edward to be changed either. That was too complicated a thought to wrap my mind around. But whatever may happen –– and I was still very much aware of the worst of possibilities –– I didn’t want my sister to hate me for it.

“He was dying, Bella,” Rosalie whispered. The anger on her face had completely faded, and in its place, pain marked her eyebrows, her full lips, her golden, sad eyes. In her sadness, she looked like a work of art, like one of those paintings of a weeping saint. “It’s not the same.”

I didn’t have a response to that, and I felt as though I was at an impasse, both with myself and with Rosalie. Because I knew the promises I’d made and broken, but I knew the promise I’d made to Edward today, and I had no willpower, no desire, and no intention to break that promise.

“You may not feel anything for him now,” Rosalie began, her eyes intently fierce as they bore into mine to warn me. Only this warning felt significantly more horrible than I’d imagined it may be, because it wasn’t made in anger, but in desperation and love. “But if Alice is right, you will. And it seems to me a horrible way to repay someone you love to steal their life, their future, their soul from them. You should leave him alone now while you still can, because once you love him… it’ll only hurt more one way or another. And you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your existence. I know I have.”

And with that, Rose turned, her face cold and sad, and she left the garage.

#equinoxjw #twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #twilight au #twilight fanfic #the twilight saga #twilight saga #twilight #edbella #edward cullen #bella swan #edbella fanfic

64 notes · View notes