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hunflowers · 4 years ago

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okay inspired by dwd suit wearing harry :) enjoy *nose boops*

You haven’t seen Harry in a couple months now. At least not physically, what with guidelines for his new movie and the restrictions of quarantine in general.

Whenever his name does pop up on your phone you can’t hide the smile that breaks out onto your face, especially when it’s a facetime call so you can see him in real time. This day however was a little different. He texted you bright and early -- at least for him because of the time difference -- saying he won’t be able to talk much because a busy day lies ahead of him. A frown nestled into your features at the misfortune, but you replied back with understanding.

It came as a surprise a couple hours later though, when he texted you a picture of himself in a full body mirror, adorned in a caribbean blue suit and a matching striped tie, with the message of Do you like it?

Your mouth dropped at the sight, and you’re pretty sure a bit of saliva slipped past your lips too. His hair was parted in meticulous manner that truly gave him the proper 50s vibe, and his clean shaven face was the true cherry on top that had your heart beating in your chest. You wanted to pull him close, preferably by the tie around his neck, and plaster lipstick stains across his jaw while carding your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly as you rocked your hips together.

You had to close your legs at the wormhole your brain was going into, biting your lip into your mouth as you wished he were next to you. I like it a lot :(

Why the sad face?

Because I want to rip it off of you.

You giggled as you saw the daunting three dots appear then disappear a few times, before he replied with a quick Don’t start. He’s at work, so it’s selfish to rile him up especially when it seems he’s about to shoot his next scene, but you couldn’t stop the wink face you sent back along with:

Can’t stop thinking of me on my knees for you.

Wouldn’t you like that?

Unbuttoning your pants and pulling the zipper down with my teeth just like you taught? Leaving the whole suit on as you fuck my mouth?

Hearing me gagging for you, choking on you as I feel you down my throat.

As much as you think you’re making him suffer, you’ve punished yourself just as badly. You were mindlessly watching your current TV fixation, sipping on a glass of wine, but now all you could think about was him and how he wasn’t by your side to help you out.

When Harry hadn’t responded for a couple minutes, you had half the mind to shove your hand in your panties and finish the job, and you were about to do it too, but you heard the familiar text tone. You pulled your phone close to you and read his daring message, causing you to bite your lip back into your mouth.

We’ll finish this later.

But then about an hour or so later you got another text from him, this time a picture of him in a brown suit with another tie to match. He said nothing aside from a teasing smiley face, because he knew the game he was playing. The brown one brought out the color of his eyes more, making you ogle just a little harder than the first, and making you crave him even more.

So, you got up from your spot on the couch and marched up to your room to find something to send back. You searched high and low for something worth your time until you finally found a time-piece. A light blue, see-through babydoll dress that you hadn’t worn since your first anniversary together. It came with a matching light blue thong and lace collar piece that you remember Harry practically frothing over the sight.

You quickly changed into it, and pulled your hair back before stepping closer to the full-length mirror in your closet. You angled yourself in a desirable way, and even brought your free hand’s thumb up to your mouth and nibbled on the tip of it as you snapped the picture. Satisfied with the photo on the fourth try, you sent it with a taunting caption of a typed heart.

He opened your message almost instantaneously, but had left you on read which caused your heart to sink a bit in your chest. But, you attributed it to him being called to set and picked your chin up and waltzed back downstairs in your new attire. You picked up your wine glass and continued with your show, simply waiting.

As time ticked on and your body grew sleepier, you were tempted to call it a night and text him saying you would continue this — whatever this is — tomorrow. But you kept your determination, because you missed your boyfriend and even if he couldn’t touch you, you knew he was going to make you cum. And besides, just when you started doubting him, that’s when he decided to ring you.

You picked up the phone giddily, the connecting ... under his name taunting you before his beautiful face popped up on your screen. You were ready to chirp a greeting at him, excited to talk to him after a long day but he was quicker to the punch.

“Y/N... y’had to send that while I’m working, did ya? Fuck, babe, do you understand how difficult it was to focus on set with that at the back of m’mind?” He ran his ring-less fingers through his shorter hair, and you noticed he was back in his hotel room. That’s a good thing, you thought, now you had no restrictions.

You pouted at him mockingly, “Oh no, you poor thing.”

He blinked at you once, then twice, before stating, “Get up. Let me see you.”

Because you were still downstairs, you trekked back up to your room, going over to the original mirror you took the photo in before flipping the camera around and showcasing yourself. You toyed with the hem of the dress, picking it a bit to give him a better viewing of your panties, to which he groaned in response.

“I’ve missed that little number. Remember the night you wore it? Could hardly walk for days after.”

You let out a breath at the thought, bringing your hand down and slightly grazing your throbbing clit for him to see, just at the mere thought.

He continued, “But that’s why you put it on isn’t it? Because you know it’s my favorite and I’m not there to put my hands on you. You wanted to get back at me for the pictures I sent — which, hardly even compare.”

You nodded your head in response, flipping the camera back around to face you as you stepped out of the closet and onto your bed. “Want you to miss me just as much as I miss you.”

“Oh, baby.... Words can’t describe how much I miss you. Look, I’ll show you how much I miss you,” and then the next thing you know, is he’s flipping the camera around and showing you his very hard cock.

You couldn’t help but moan at the sight, your free hand dipping into your baby blue thong and swiping your dripping folds and circling your wetness across your clit. “Show me how much you miss me too.”

You flipped your camera back around, letting him see your fingers slowly working your clit, hidden beneath the fabric of your panties. He groaned, telling you to give him a closer look, so — as comfortably as you could — you pushed your thong to the side and angled your phone so he had a better view of your soaked pussy.

“Shit Y/N– Push two fingers inside, imagine it’s me doing it,” he told, and you could see his fist beginning to pump his cock at a faster rate, him most likely imagining your smaller hand stroking him just like you usually do. You listened to him, inserting your ring and middle finger inside your wet hole, while keeping the heel of your palm pressed against your sensitive bud.

“Baby... I need you so bad,” you whined, softly hitting your front wall as you curled your fingers, before fastening your movements — like you know he would.

You watched him spread his precum around his shaft, paying extra attention to his tip before he thrusted his hips up into hand. “Ugh- I know baby, I need you too. Just a little while longer. Fuck yourself for me, y’can do that can’t you?”

You hummed back, picking up the pace of your hand, going the extra mile and pushing a third finger inside, causing you to screw your eyes shut in ecstasy.

“Wish it was you fucking me right now. Your big cock inside my tight pussy - shit - you fill me so good.”

You heard him groan at your words, mumbling a quiet ‘keep going,’ because he’s always been a fan of your dirty talk.

“Want your hand around my throat... squeezing me as I squeeze you. Wish you were hitting the spot only you could reach. God, want to feel me stretched around you, leaving me sore for days after you’re done. Do you want that too?” You felt the heat in the pit of your belly begin to stir, your palm pressing harder against your sensitivity.

“Could imagine your face pressed into the mattress as I take you from behind. Your tits in my hands — I miss them. Want m’mouth sucking on you... can’t cum yet, don’t even think about it, Y/N.”

You whined at the restriction, feeling your impending high reaching you. So, you helped him to his quicker. “H, H, H... miss having my lips around you. Love when you mess up my lipstick and it’s smeared all around you, mixed with saliva and cum. Never forget about your balls either, I kiss ‘em and suck on them, give them just the right amount of attention. Know you love when I press my finger into you too, hearing you moan until you’re coming down my throat.”

Back and forth for a few moments all you both could do was moan, wishing the other were by your side as you sent yourself into euphoric oblivion.

“Can I cum now? Please, please,” you begged, rubbing fast circles on your clit.

“So close, babe, so – holy fuck — so close,” he murmured, twisting his wrist and keeping more of his focus on the base of dick now. “G’na cum with me?”

You whispered a ‘yes’ in response, your thighs beginning to shake as your toes curled into the bed sheets. Within seconds, hot lava coursed through your body as flashes of white danced across your eyes, you back arching off the mattress. You could hear Harry hitting his climax, your eyes opening quickly to watch him spray his orgasm all over his fist and stomach.

You nestled your head into your pillow as you brought the phone back up to your face, your eyes falling close as you let your body relax. Harry turned the camera back to him, getting up from his position to wash himself. You would get up eventually too, but you just laid and calmed yourself in the mean time as you watched him.

“Miss you,” you mumbled, tears threatening to break past your waterline as you wished you could snuggle up to him.

He looked at you, his mouth forming into a pout as you could hear the sink water running from the bathroom. “I know. Just a few more weeks and I’ll be home.”

#i’m back b-words #jk this is it until school is over #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles filth #harry styles au #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles

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livexdolan · 4 years ago

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The Cage - Part One

A/n: so hi! This is a UFC based fic about Grayson Dolan. This is an AU with an OC. There is no face claim as of now but they might change idk. I’m not going to ramble lol I’m just very very nervous. Anywho please enjoy and let me know what you think! There will be many parts to this series by the way lol so this part is kind of slow but just wait aha

Word Count: 5924

Warnings: fluff, mentions of death, explicit language, and triggering topics (maybe?) mentioned

“I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be famous- never telling anyone but I’ve always wanted to know- wanted to get in the head of someone famous and see what they go through- but I could’ve never guessed this was how I was going to find out.

It all started when I was 22, fresh out of college, with a crappy assistant job at a publishing company in Los Angeles, California. Having been stuck at this job for almost three years and never even having my articles read, I was starting to lose hope that I would never be more than an assistant. Until one day…”

“Lily! Get in here! And bring me a coffee!” I scurry to Mr. Lane’s office, clutching the coffee I had just gone and grabbed for him, stopping by my desk to grab my notebook and pen.

I opened his glass door and put his coffee down on his desk, pushing up my glasses as I opened my notebook and clicked my pen, looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say what he needed me to do. He looks at me, his eyes bright at first but quickly losing their color and he sighs as though he’s already exasperated, “What is this?” He holds up a copy of a story I had put on his desk.

Oh jeez, another rejection. I push my glasses up again and start to stutter out an explanation in a quiet voice, “Well, I-I heard you talking to some of the reporters about need-needing a new story for next week's issue and well, I-I already had an idea so I thought I’d-” He cuts me off with a quick raise of his hand and a stoic look on his face, giving nothing away.

“Look,” he sighs and rubs his face with both hands before continuing, “It’s not a bad story, but it’s a half-baked idea. That’s your problem. That’s why you haven’t gotten a byline yet- you can never deliver a full idea- let alone a full article, do you understand?”

I look down, refusing to let him see my cheeks burn red and my eyes water. This is what he says every time I give him an idea. “Do you want to be a journalist?” He questions.

I make eye contact with him quickly lifting my head and squaring my shoulders to try and seem more confident, “More than anything, sir.”

“Well then, I have a proposition for you.” He gets up from his chair, his tall, lean body going to perch on the corner of his desk as he looks up at me his blue eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint, “I’ll give you a lead, and if you can follow through and get me a full 12000-word article by Monday, you can keep your job and I might throw you a lead here and there. But if you fail to deliver…” He pauses momentarily, thinking over his next words carefully, “you lose your job.”

I gasp and try to reason with myself for a second, making a mental pro-con list before replying quietly, “What’s the article on?”

He shakes his head and smirks lightly, filling my stomach with more unease, “No, you have to agree to the proposition. Then, I will tell you the story.”

Can I do this? Can I risk everything? I mean, that’s what my life’s been so far, a lot of risks and sacrifices. But is this a sacrifice I’m willing to make?

What would mom do? I sigh, “O-ok. Okay, I accept. Now, what’s the story?”

He claps his hands together excitedly and looks up at me with a boyish grin, he moves swiftly behind his desk and grabs an envelope, handing it to my shaky hands, “Grayson Dolan, he fights tonight here at the arena, go with a press pass, get an interview with him and ask him a couple of questions. Oh, and make sure we get a quote.”

I stare at him open-mouthed, frozen to my spot, “What? The Grayson Dolan?! You and I are both very aware that he refuses to do interviews. This isn’t even possible.” I say without trying to raise my voice too much.

Jace just leans back in his desk chair, lacing his fingers together and putting them behind his head, “Not my problem- it’s yours now. If I don’t have that story in my hand Monday morning, just pack your things up and leave, got it?” He smirks up at me.

I just silently walk out of his office and back to my desk, sitting down and putting my head against the cool wood surface. I don’t know if I want to cry or punch myself in the face.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“And then he told me that if I accept- but fail to give him a story- I lose my job!”

“Wow! I never liked that guy, you know. He gives off such- such a douchebag vibe.”

I can’t help but chuckle at my dad’s voice dropping a little, he hasn’t been big on cursing since mom passed. At first, it was weird because both my parents cussed when I was growing up. But after mom passed, dad decided that, ‘there’s enough hate in the world’ and that he’s not going to add to it with foul language.’

“I know Dad, but what am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t accept it! You should never risk your whole career on whether or not some guy is feeling up to an interview!”

“Ok, one-” I start, “it is not just some guy! This is Grayson Dolan! And two,” I lower my voice and chew my lip, a bad habit I picked up in middle school, “I already agreed.”

“Of course you did!” he sounds exasperated and I pull my phone away from my ear a little out of reflex, “You are just like your mother, you know that?” he sighs and the line goes quiet.

“Daddy?” I whisper into the phone. He stays silent. It’s my turn to sigh and fall back onto my couch. I mutter into the phone, “He wouldn’t tell me the story until I accepted. I have to go get ready, I’ll talk to you after the match. I’ll be sitting ringside so look for me, ok?”

“Ok, I will. I’m still not happy about this.”

“I know Dad, you’re not happy with two-thirds of the things I do.”

That gets a reluctant chuckle out of him, “I guess you’re right. Good luck, by the way. If anyone can get an interview out of Dolan- it’d be you. And if you can’t, your childhood bedroom would love to have you back.”

“Ha-ha. Thanks. I love you.”

“Love you too baby, I’ll see you soon?”

“Dad,” my stomach drops at his hopeful voice and I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth, “Maybe, bye.”

I hang up the phone before he can say anything and I sink into the couch.

I wake with a start, my neck sore from the back of the couch. Oh no. I grab my phone in a haste, I turn it on and my whole body sags in relief when the time shows up; 6:45.

I have about an hour and a half to get ready, that’s enough time!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wrong. Very wrong. I feel a wave of heat wash over me, igniting my anxiety as I look at the time on my phone; 7:45.

I quickly put on my normal, light makeup consisting of moisturizer, skin tint, blush on my cheeks and nose, giving me an almost sunburnt look. I shape my eyebrows a little, fix my glasses, and put on my chapstick. I quickly brush out my short, wavy hair and clip back the front parts. I shake my head slightly to get my bangs in place and do one last check in the mirror before heading to my closet.

Too pink. Too casual. Too tight. Too- ugh where did I even get that from? I start moving the hangers faster, getting frustrated with my lack of options. I move past a pastel purple dress- wait. I go back to the dress and grab it off the rod, holding it up in the light.

When did I buy this? My eyebrows furrow as I look at the beautiful and delicate dress that I must’ve forgotten about. I pull it off the hanger and slowly put it on, saying a silent prayer that it fits.

I smooth the soft material out and look in the mirror. I’m pleasantly surprised by how the dress fits. It’s silk with spaghetti straps and is a lilac color with little flowers all over it.

I don’t have time to overthink my outfit now. I throw on my roommate’s white Timberlands, grab my black purse, making sure my ID, wallet, and phone are all tucked safely inside. I grab my press pass and put the lanyard around my head carefully.

Taking a deep breath, I walk out to the living room where my roommate is sitting waiting for me to come out.

I clear my throat and try not to look too awkward. Ryan looks up from her MacBook and gasps, tossing her laptop onto the couch next to her, she moves over to me, her long legs gracefully walking around the coffee table.

She investigates every part of my outfit, making me feel small and self-conscious. Before I can stop myself, I start rambling in a quiet tone, “Is-is this too much? Do you th-think it looks okay?”

She grasps my shoulders and a wide smile makes its way onto her face, “Of course, you look amazing!” I smile at her and she winks at me, “When that pretentious ass sees you- he might want to do more than just let you interview him.”

I snort and roll my eyes and she laughs, “Yeah right,” I mumble.

She walks over to our coat rack and pulls off a small black cardigan, “Here, I know it gets cold in there,” I smile gratefully and take it from her, folding it over the crook of my arm and taking a deep breath.

I start to walk towards the door and she calls my name, I look back at her as I open the door, “You look hot Lil- knock ‘em dead,” I smile at her and nod, walking out before I get sappy.

I pull into the busy parking lot of the arena and gulp down my bubbling anxiety. I find a parking spot, towards the back of the lot seeing as I don’t get bothered by having to walk a little. I go up to the line, seeing a sign that says, ‘PRESS ENTRANCE HERE’ I smile at the worker looking at me and pointing to the Press sign and then at my pass hanging around my neck, he nods.

I go towards the other entrance and show a different security guard my pass and he opens a door for me, I smile up at him, “Thank you-” I glance at the small name tag, “Don.” He blushes slightly and coughs.

I blush too and walk through the door quickly. I realize that I’m ‘backstage’ and can hear the fans cheering for one of the main card fights happening. I check my small watch and see that it’s going to be another hour or so before Grayson Dolan fights.

I take another deep breath and start walking forward, trying not to look like a lost puppy and failing when a man wearing a UFC crew shirt comes over to me with furrowed brows, “Who’re you looking for?”

I look at him, his deep voice vibrating against the walls, “Grayson Dolan,” I answer back.

He gives me a once-over and I try not to make a face when he meets my eyes and smirks, “Oh, he’ll like you.” I furrow my brows but decide not to question it as he points down a long hallway, “Four doors down, take a right, then the last door on the left is him- the one that’ll say, Grayson Dolan.” I thanked him even though he was a bit rude, and made my way down.

Once I turn down the hallway I see someone sitting outside one of the rooms on a single chair. I make my way closer and my heart drops into my stomach when I see it’s a girl sitting outside Grayson Dolan’s room, “Hello? Are-Are you okay?”

The girl looks up at me from her phone and gives me a once-over, except it’s different from the way the worker did- she looks annoyed with me. She stands up, her high heels making her about an inch or two taller than me, “Who are you?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest, pushing her cleavage up.

I cough to clear my throat a little, taken back by her abrasive tone, “I’m a reporter- Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine, and if you’re here for Grayson Dolan- he won’t talk to you.”

“I- I’m sorry, why do you say that?” The woman steps closer to me and I try not to gag at the smell of her cheap, overused perfume. I step back from her and she straightens up slightly, glowering at me.

“Just run along, maybe you’ll understand when you’re grown,” She says, looking back at her phone, when she glances up and sees I’m not leaving she rolls her eyes, “Grayson Dolan doesn’t talk to reporters. I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t actually a reporter anyway, you’re probably just here to fuck him, huh? Get in line,” She laughs.

My whole body feels like it’s on fire. I don’t understand why she’s being so rude and malicious towards me but I have to get this interview. I can’t let people like her bring me down anymore. When she gives me a fake smile and sits back down, I decide to be the bigger person. Not snapping back at her and ignoring her. Because she doesn’t know me and she doesn’t know what I’ve been through.

The door opens before I can say anything anyways and we both look over, startled. A man looks over at us, then turn and glances back inside the room before he nods, looking at me, and asking what my name is, “Lily Taylor, here with Ace Publis-” I try to tell him but he cuts me off opening the door wider and my eyes widen as he tells me to come in. I try to keep from laughing when the girl asks if she can come in but he just shakes his head at her, I turn around quickly before he shuts the door, “If I were you- I wouldn’t lie to others and say you’re around his age, it’s very obvious that you’re old enough to be his mom,” And the door shuts on her shocked face.

I realize my heart is pounding in my ears and that is probably the meanest thing I’ve ever done, “I should probably apologize,” I whisper to myself and jump slightly when I hear a deep chuckle.

“What can I help you with, Ms. Taylor?” My shoulders tense at the familiar voice and I turn around slowly, facing a couch with a very amused Grayson Dolan sitting on it.

“I- I’m so sorry for being so rude to her. I didn’t mean to be.”

“Why do you think I’d care about her? She’s been sitting out there for two hours,” He laughs and I think he caught the raise of my eyebrow but ignores it, “I asked you once, Ms. Taylor, I don’t like repeating myself.” He reminds me of his question.

I square my shoulders, “I’m here with Ace Publishing & Co., I would love if you could answer some questions for me,” I smile at him, trying to come off as friendly.

His amused expression drops and he scoffs, “You’re one of them? God- here I was hoping you were a die-hard fan. Was going to make you feel very special,” He smirks at me and I scrunch my nose out of habit at his gross words. I quickly stop, realizing I need this, “Frank- show Ms. Taylor out please,” He sighs, and my eyes widen and I stick my hands out and Frank stops moving for a second.

“Wait! Wait! Please I-” Frank huffs at my refusal to move and grabs my arm as I move closer to Grayson, “Please. I wouldn’t be this adamant if I didn’t need this. Please. My career is counting on this moment. Please, I will get down on my knees and beg if I have to, please,” I put my hands in a pleading gesture, hoping he’d take pity.

He holds his hand up to Frank and he lets go of my arm, I sigh and straighten up a little, hoping to gain back some of the dignity I seemed to have lost, “What do you mean?” He cocks his head to the side curiously and I blush, glancing at the ground.

“My boss he uh- he told me that if I don’t get at least a quote from you I can kiss my job goodbye and well, it’s not the best job but I’ve worked my ass off to get where I’m at and he’s being unfair and I understand that this isn’t your problem and I understand why you don’t like to talk to interviewers-”

He cuts me off, “You know why I don’t talk to interviewers?” I look up at him and nod meekly, “Why? Explain it to me,” he crosses his arms and I think he might be upset with me.

I look back down at the ground and take a breath, glancing back up at him through my lashes, “You don’t do interviews because doing an interview is personal and revealing. You’re scar- scared to let the world see who the Grayson Dolan is because you don’t think they’ll like you as much.”

He cocks his eyebrow and uncrosses his arm, sighing, looking away from me to the wall, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he contemplates for a minute, “You got like 20 minutes to ask me whatever you want, and no stupid questions that all the interviewers ask, okay?” I nod and move to sit in the chair next to the couch.

“Do you mind if I record this? I’d like to keep this paper-free, meaning I don’t have a notebook out and try to write everything down. We’re just going to have a conversation and let it flow. I can stop recording at any time if you say something you’d like erased. I’m not here to expose you, just here to get to know you. As a person. Not as a fighter. I’m not going to ask you anything about how being a fighter’s been or what your inspiration is. I’m going to ask you about you. As a whole. Because the UFC is not your personality,” I explain to him, pulling my phone out and pulling up my voice memos app and looking back up to him, waiting for an answer.

He stares at me until finally, I say his name quietly, hoping he’s okay, he blinks and flushes, shifting, “Sorry, y-yeah, that’s okay. I just- I didn’t expect you to be like- acting like a human.”

I laugh and start recording, “Maybe that means I’m a bad journalist? I don’t know- I feel like it’s easier to connect and get the questions in without papers and cameras and all that other stuff.”

(this part is going to be a dialogue as though we are just listening to the recording)

“That makes sense, and no I can tell you’re going to be great, you treat me like I’m just- a guy, which doesn’t happen often.”

“I bet, you don’t deserve that though. Okay, I’m going to start us off with some icebreakers- so tell me what your childhood dream job was, your favorite ice cream flavor, and 3 things you do on the weekends.”

“Oh, jeez, what is this- first day of 6th grade? Fine- Uh, I always wanted to be a pro wrestler, that was my dream job as a kid. My favorite- vegan- ice cream flavor is probably mint chocolate chip. And, uhm, three things I do on the weekends...okay okay I got it; eat, sleep, workout. Now you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, Miss Reporter. If you want this to flow you gotta participate as well.”

“Okay, fine. Uh- as a kid I always wanted to be a veterinarian, and then when I was like 10 I realized I wanted to be a writer. My favorite ice cream flavor is probably mint chocolate chip as well. And on the weekends...I’d probably say; read, watch fights with my dad, and drink tea with my best friend at a cafe.”

“Every single weekend?”

“Yeah, my dad lives on the other side of the country so we do a FaceTime call and watch UFC together. My roommate has a job that takes up a lot of her time during the week so we go to this small cafe by our house every weekend.”

“Wow.”

(this is where the rest of the interview would be but, for later in the timeline, we aren’t going to cover every question she asks him :))

“Okay, now tell me about your family. Where you grew up, were your parents married, did you have a dog, and how do you think this all helped make you the man you are today?”

“I grew up in New Jersey; my dad left when I was 10. I’m allergic to dogs and cats, so I have a parrot named Gizmo. My mom never remarried and my sister lives with her. My brother and I moved to LA when we were 18, with no money, no job, just hope. We went to a gym and asked them if they’d train us. The next thing I knew, my brother was getting a job working at the gym and becoming one of my trainers. I learned how to fight and used my wrestling experience and worked my way into the UFC.”

“You didn’t answer my last question.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you told me how you got started in the UFC. I don’t want to know about that- everyone knows that story already. I want to know how you think the things you went through as a child have shaped you as a person.”

“I- I guess- I don’t know, to be honest. I don’t think much of who I’ve become so that question is hard to answer.”

“Why do you say that? You are one of the most accomplished men in America.”

“To others, but this- I wasn’t supposed to be a fighter. Everyone sees me as accomplished but I just feel like this was an accident. There was no great event in my life that caused me to become an MMA fighter- it just happened.”

“You don’t believe in fate, Mr. Dolan?”

“No, I don’t. Do you, Ms. Taylor?”

“Yes, I believe that we all have a path we are meant to follow and that everything happens for a reason.”

“Why?”

“Because- I don’t know- it’s nicer than the alternative to me, I guess. I don’t want to live in a world where nothing has a reason behind it. We’ll move on to the next question. You don’t disclose personal information; relationships, family, children, etcetera.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Why is that? Are you afraid?”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“The same reason I said earlier as to why you don’t like interviews; you are scared people will see the real Grayson Dolan and not like you as much or think you’re different.”

“Are you like- a profiler or something? Why do you think that?”

“I’m not a profiler- I’m a journalist. It’s my job to look for clues, pick up on the small things about someone no one else would notice.”

“Ok, I’ll accept that. Is it my turn to ask you questions?”

“No that’s not how this works.”

“You said you wanted this to be like a normal conversation, did you not?”

“Yes, I did say that, but-”

“Okay, well, I don’t know about you but normally when I’m getting to know someone- I get to ask questions just like they do.”

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know...if you’ll go out with me?”

“What? Like on a- like on a date?”

“Yes, a date, Ms. Taylor.”

“Uh- I don’t know, maybe, I-”

“30 minutes to the fight, Dolan! Gotta get you warmed-up!”

(the story is back to normal now)

“So?” He questions as he stands up and I try to gather all my stuff. Trying to push down the butterflies while I stop the recording. I just continue to get more flustered, especially when he puts his hand out for me and I shyly take it, he pulls me to my feet and I stare at him through my lashes.

“I- sure. On one condition,” I smile slyly up at him and he raises an eyebrow at me, I ignore the unfamiliar feeling between my thighs at the look on his face and continue quickly, “You have to win this fight. I’ll be in the front row watching. If you win- I’ll go out with you.”

He smiles and then chuckles, “I thought you were going to make it hard? I could win this fight in my sleep baby, I’ll let you know the time after the fight, just stick around, yeah?”

I snort and roll my eyes, ignoring the pull on my heart when he calls me baby, “I’ll be there,” He smiles at me again and I jump a little in surprise when I feel his warm, large hand on the small of my back, he opens the door for me and leads me into the hallway.

I try not to laugh at the face of the Instagram model when she sees Grayson’s hand on me, “I’ll be looking for you in the front row, just so you know.” He teases.

I smile at him and kiss him on the cheek, “I’ll be the one cheering the loudest. Knock Em dead!” I walk away quickly and glance back seeing him standing there, his right hand gently going up to touch the spot I kissed and we both blush. My heart drops into my stomach when he looks over and sees the model. I have to turn the corner and get to my seat so I don’t see how he reacted. He wouldn’t sleep with her right after asking me out, would he? My subconscious snaps back; you barely know the man! Maybe he does this all the time! I push her down and ignore the bad feeling in my gut.

As I sit down in my seat, everything that just happened hits me and I slouch into my seat, what. the. fuck. I’m going on a date with Grayson Dolan! I got an interview with Grayson Dolan! I kissed Grayson Dolan on the cheek! I bite back a smile and take out my phone, taking a video showing me smiling at the camera, then flipping the camera around and showing off how close I am to the octagon. I sent it to my dad quickly.

He responds almost immediately.

*From Daddy: Wow!! So cool! Have tons of fun! Not too much though! Not ready to be a grandpa...yet ;)

I snort and roll my eyes, responding and then turning my phone off when the lights in the arena dim.

*To Daddy: Lmao, shut up. I’ll try to have fun though! The main card is starting! I’ll talk to you later, love you <3

After I watch a few of the fights before Graysons’, I take some pictures and jot down some information about the fights and who won, knowing it’ll add more substance to my piece.

I watch as the whole arena transforms and the whole place is bursting with barely-contained energy and the place goes dark. Suddenly, lights start beaming and music starts playing, I smile at the Kid Cudi (each fight he uses a different Cudi song) choice for tonight- Enter Galactic as it blasts through the speakers everyone goes wild, Grayson moving swiftly to the octagon with his head low and singing the song softly to himself. I can tell he’s not the same Grayson I was talking to, he has flipped the switch- as he told me he does- and is now The Grayson Dolan- UFC Fighter and Champion.

He takes his shirt off and I blush at his tan skin, the rippling muscles making my brain go straight in the gutter. The ‘doc’ pats him down and puts vaseline on his face. I try not to laugh at how weird he looks with his eyebrows slicked down.

He makes his way into the octagon and I see him scanning the front row when his eyes land on mine. I smile at him but he just gives me a curt nod in response before turning away. I’m taken aback by his attitude but I know he has to stay in his fighter mentality.

The other fighter, Dominick Reyes, comes in and he has a good amount of people cheer for him but the majority of the arena boos when he comes out. I know that having some of how this fight goes in my article will make it look better because it’s such a big deal, so I jot some notes down, some about Grayson and some about Reyes.

I subconsciously chew on my nail, scolding myself when I realize what I’m doing. He’s going to win. I tell myself to calm down, I’ve never been to a fight before so the chaotic and anxiety-filled energy around me must be getting to my head.

The ref announces them both, and then they go to the middle, Grayson goes to touch Reyes’ fist, but Reyes pulls back and smirks at Grayson, “C’mon pretty boy,” he sings.

Grayson’s jaw clenches and he starts moving around the octagon, Reyes slowly falling into a pattern of chasing him around. Grayson continues to step to the right until suddenly, he moves to the left, and Reyes doesn’t see it. I watch in astonishment as he puts all of his power into the punch, hitting Reyes perfectly on the temple. Reyes drops to the ground and Grayson’s about to follow him to the mat but the ref stops him, officially calling the fight. Grayson looks over at me, my mouth hanging wide open and he smirks, winking at me.

That asshole just winked at me.

I stand up quickly, cheering loudly with everyone else and he shakes his head, turning back to his team as they run into the octagon to hug him. Once Grayson is done with everything and the crowd starts shuffling out, Grayson comes over to me, “D’you see that?” He smiles and I smile back.

“Yeah, yeah, I saw,” He chuckles and grabs my arm pulling me into him.

I gasp as I hit his hard, sweaty chest, “You’re sweaty,” I scrunch my nose up and try to pull away but he tightens his grip, staring down at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You owe me a date,” He responds and I roll my eyes, ignoring the hammering of my heart at how close we are to each other.

“What time and where?” I say, acting bored.

He chuckles down at me, “I’ll pick you up at 5:30. This Saturday. Just bring your beautiful self and don’t worry about anything else.”

“What’s the dress code?” I raise my eyebrow and he shrugs.

“Whatever you want to wear, although I’ll tell you right now they might frown upon you wearing lingerie or something like that.”

I snort and as he moves away from me a little and we start walking behind his team I realize that I’m a lot colder than I realized, rubbing my arms subconsciously and realizing that I left my sweater in the car damn it.

Grayson notices me rubbing my arms and bumps my shoulder, “You cold?”

“A little. I have a sweater in the car, I’ll be fine.”

He frowns as he opens the door to his dressing(?) room, “I have a jacket you can wear.”

He goes over to a chair in the corner and grabs a big, soft black jacket with DOLAN on the back and the UFC and Reebok logo on the front. I shake my head, “No, r-really it’s- it’s okay,”

“Just take it, you can give it back later, s’not a big deal, I don’t need it. I’m way too hot right now.”

He hands it over to me and I look down at it in his hands and then glance back at him, crossing my arms. He rolls his eyes and comes over to me, putting it on my shoulders and looking down at me, “Just wear it. Please?” He whispers and I flush, seeing that if I moved too fast our lips would be touching.

I nod softly and he steps back. I take a deep breath and put my arms through the sleeves and the jacket immediately warms me. I relax into the warmth and pull it tighter around me and he smirks, “Like you in my clothes.”

I blush and look down, “I- I should be goi-going,” I point my thumb at the door and he bites back a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll see you Saturday then?”

I nod and stutter out a response as I walk back to the door, “Y-yep! 5:30! Wait- I didn’t give you my address o-or my phone num-Ow!” I yelp in surprise when the door handle digs into my lower back and he can’t hold back his laugh as he walks over to me, trapping me between him and the door.

I swallow at his large frame covering me up, his arms resting on each side of the wall by my head, I can see his large biceps and the veins running up his arms in my peripheral vision. He smirks and leans down, “Check your pocket,” he says softly and I look up at him with furrowed brows.

I slowly move my hands to the jacket pockets and after digging around a little I feel a small piece of paper in the right pocket. I pull it out and open it up. I glance up at him in surprise at the digits scribbled onto the paper.

“H-How did you- why-” He cuts me off by moving away from me, my body on fire from how close he had been to me.

I move off the door when he motions for me to move and he opens the door, “Ms. Taylor,” He says, trying to hide a smirk.

I scoff incredulously and walk past him, stopping outside the door in the cold hallway, I turn back to look at him before I walk away to go have a panic attack in my car, “Mr. Dolan.”

A/n: okayyy so I know it’s bad and I’ll be editing it soon but I’m posting this on an ipad lmfao so please cut me some slack.

Tag List:

@pineappledols @episkygrant @georgia302 @dolan-habits @leahs-existentialcrisis @persistence-ofmemories @bubsdolan @ohdolans @vinylhazza @vintagedolan @astrodolan @zeusgrayson @deeperdolan @blindedbythelightt @dolsobsessionz @evergreendolan @dicedols @plantbasedgray

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kaminobiwan · 4 years ago

Text

inhibition

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader

summary: Fluff. Sap. Domesticity with a little bit of plot sprinkled in. Dash of sa(n)d, but that's to be expected at this point. It’s Tatooine, y’all.

a/n: Having not read Kenobi yet I actually have no idea how Obi-Wan’s demeanor is towards young Luke, but it’s fic so who cares. They get FAMILY VIBES

This one got away from me. Positively wrenched out of my grip and flew away, leading to the longest fic I’ve ever written, but I think the end result is so worth it. Requested by @snips-n-skyguy0501 and an anon that wanted breakfast in bed and forehead kisses — I hope your foot feels better, Sam! (Taglist)

In the slick of the heat of Tatooine, there isn’t much you could really do but sleep it off.

Even with tiny windows, the determined rays of the planet’s twin suns never failed to make their way into the small compound that had served as your sanctuary for the better part of the past half decade. You can feel the warmth of the dawn seeping in, lingering on your features, but you’re not ready to come back to the living just yet.

It’s not usually that you lay in bed for more than a couple hours past sunrise, but given the past few days, you definitely deserved it — repeated visits to the Lars homestead had acquainted you with some of their regular customers, other families that lived in the Great Chott. With Obi-Wan being the least inclined out of the pair of you to interact with anyone not in immediate danger (“saving his sociability for you,” as he called it), you’d been the one to volunteer some of your talents when you could in exchange for food or parts. This week had seen a favor to one of the couples that bought water from Owen and Beru, with you helping to repair a lower-end vaporizer that had seen shinier days.

The trips across the salt flat had inflicted more of a beating on your feet than normal, and your shoes hadn’t been enough to protect you from the coarse desert floor. You’d come home the night before looking worse for wear, left hand rubbed raw from tinkering and right foot split open by an unforgiving blister, but Obi-Wan had patched you up without hesitation and insisted that you let him wrestle your weary bones to bed.

Now, your lover lays ever-present at your back, but judging by the heavy unmoving arm strewn across you, he’s not fully up either.

Without raising your eyelids, you turn in his grasp, the weight upon you comforting despite the swelter. You hear Obi-Wan mutter something incoherent, but you pay it no mind as you crane your neck slightly in search of his face. Lips meet a bearded chin first, and a hum escapes him, louder now. Still determined in reaching your goal, you stretch, limbs awakening, but mind lagging as it tries to shake free of the clutches of slumber.

It’s a race to consciousness as Obi-Wan starts to stir as well, evidently joining you in your quest for a kiss, and finally, after a few minutes more of half-asleep fumbling, it happens — mouths moulding together blissfully, weak and sweaty from the blazing heat, but your heart flutters at the taste of him.

When you open your eyes, a blue gaze is waiting. Obi-Wan smiles at the way your noses touch, unwilling to separate much from your embrace.

“Good morning.”

You yawn before responding, jerking as Obi-Wan juts an evil finger in your side midway. You’re not sentient enough to shoot him a half-hearted glare, so instead, you mumble it back and accidentally smack him in the face as you move to rise.

He stops you before you can, chin hooking onto your nearest shoulder and tugging down, and you slump back to the sheets with a subdued giggle. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” you reply, and he nods, obviously pleased. “I have you to thank for that.”

He mouths at the skin behind your ear, only half-listening, but still fully fixated on you. You wonder if you’ll ever completely get used to his unbridled affection, even after more than five years living together in isolation, free to feel and show your love blatantly and unapologetically.

Not without a price that had been paid, but it was soul-healing love regardless.

“The Marstraps and their garden are doing well,” you comment absently, more to fill the silence as he lavishes you in physical worship than anything. “Maybe we should get into hydroponics.”

A sound of indifference.

“Did you know they have a daughter?” At that, Obi-Wan stills, face buried in your hair. You think his hand twitches at your abdomen, but in your groggy state, you can’t be completely sure. He never seems to know what to say when you talk of such things. Not then, not now.

It’s not like you mean to imply anything by bringing it up, really. It’s more of...a gauge, of sorts. You’re probing. You’re not even sure why.

“Her name is Camie. She’s very sweet.”

Obi-Wan lifts his head lethargically, looking like he wants to utter a thousand words and nothing all at once. This time, he really does grip your hip, thumb grazing your ribcage thoughtfully, but you take it upon yourself to change the subject before things get too complicated.

“What time is it?”

“Still early,” he rumbles, and the gravelly tone sends satisfying vibrations to where your torsos are pressed against each other. “You’ll be able to get a couple more hours of rest.”

“Hmm.” His words trigger your body to succumb to the drowsiness you hadn’t quite gotten rid of, and your eyes droop contentedly again. “Will you be joining me?”

Obi-Wan slips his other arm from underneath your neck, languidly sweeping over your form and nudging your temple fondly with his nose. “Unfortunately, no,” he murmurs into your hair, “but I think you’ll appreciate why.”

Your eyebrow lifts at the cryptic line, but you’re already falling back asleep as he lifts himself fully from you, and you give into the tiredness as his footsteps fade from your hearing.

———

Moments later — you’re not sure if he’s made good on his promise of extra hours — you feel the pressure of puckered lips against your eyelids, the scratch of his beard poking the thin skin around your eyes as you arise for the second time. This time, however, the enticing smell of food invades your senses, and you realize with a start that it’s not the boiled mealgrain that you usually have in the morning.

“Is that — ?” You shift in bed, reclining upon the headrest, but not yet sitting upright. You’re wide awake now, blinking alertly to find the source of the delectable aroma.

“Iktotch toast,” Obi-Wan announces proudly, setting a tray stacked with plates of steaming food on the table beside your shared bed. “And my attempt at a gartro omelet. Though, I couldn’t get all the necessary ingredients.” He sits on the edge, hand finding your blanketed shin and caressing it like second nature. “Just a fair warning.”

The thin sheet falls to your stomach as you twist to get a good look at his cooking, and you’re rewarded with the sight of brightly colored eggs and buttered bread topped with carbosyrup. Compared to the monochromatic meals you’ve come to expect day to day, it’s a welcome change.

In your excitement, you forget about the abrasions from yesterday, the still-raw skin of your palm screaming out in protest when you try to prop yourself up. Obi-Wan spots the small wince, and reaches for you as you cradle your stinging hand to your chest. “Better doesn’t mean good, apparently.” There’s a teasing to his locution, if only because he knows you too well. You don’t want to make a fuss out of it. You’re bested, anyhow, when he squeezes the blistered foot and you yelp. “Here, too. It still hurts? Shall I redress the wounds?”

A shake of your head precedes your response, as you assure him, “No, there’s no need. Truly.” Still, he’s adamant on being of more assistance, and it seems today is a good day. He’s happy, playful, even — it’s instants like these where you catch a glimpse of a different man, the echo of an old friend.

“Anything I can do to ease the pain?” Obi-Wan smirks, but it’s free of sarcasm as he leans above you, his hair falling in his eyes. It’s grown longer now, not quite the lion’s mane of a mullet he’d sported so many years ago, but unrulier than the clean-cropped cut that he’d had during his last years on Coruscant.

Another life.

Though, you suppose, the rugged desert look is growing on you.

“A kiss on the bandage, maybe,” you quip, just as light-hearted, basking in the mood — what a rarity, nowadays, but always because of each other. “Perhaps it’ll help it heal faster.”

Obi-Wan scoots downwards, ruffling the sheets and uncovering more of your pajama-clad figure to the world, and grabs for your toes —

“Not there! I meant the hand,” you cry, just short of a laugh. “Were you really about to kiss the bottom of my foot?”

He joins in your amusement, chuckling as he traces his way back up to you with light kisses that begin at your legs. One on the knee, then on your navel, and right under your breast — the tease. His hands follow hotly along the trail his mouth leaves, yet it’s a heat you’re all too willing to endure. “Darling, you’d know I’d kiss you anywhere,” he says, grin honest and eager, and you smile suggestively at him from your place upon the pillows.

The moment turns soft, though, when he takes your injured hand, touching his lips to the pads of your fingers, completely avoiding the wrappings. Instead, he marks the exposed skin peeking from the bandages, leaving warm touches where he can reach. You let him make his way up your arm, relaxing the muscle and leaving it pliant in his hold, and these kisses are tender, sincere, adoring.

His lips brush the inside of your elbow, and you catch his gaze then, eyes serious and lacking the mirth of before. He beams, nevertheless, and it takes another four pecks up your shoulder, collarbone, and neck until he finally reaches your mouth. Your lips connect in a quiet climax, tension releasing and hushed sighs escaping the both of you as hands find cheeks and jaws to hold. His beard is longer, too, and a subtle drag of your fingers along his scruff doesn’t go unnoticed as he groans into the kiss.

Sluggishly, as if he’s struggling against the pull of quicksand, Obi-Wan pulls away, your digits still tangled in his auburn locks. “Eat,” he murmurs, placing one last kiss on your bare palm. As he places the tray in your lap, you sit up properly, kicking the last of the covers aside. “Company is coming.”

———

Company was actually more of a child-sitting gig, with the Lars traveling to Anchorhead and reluctant to let their nephew tag along just yet. The four of you had all agreed it was best to shelter the boy until you and Obi-Wan had gotten better at shielding the signatures of three Force-sensitives, and while you were quickly growing used to the strain of the constant use of the Force, there wasn’t a need for unnecessary ventures outside of the community when Luke could just stay with you and Obi-Wan.

On the other hand, if you asked Obi-Wan, he didn’t see why a trip to Tosche Station couldn’t wait until next week, seeing as how you couldn’t walk much without pain. Luke would undoubtedly aggravate the blister when he begged you to play.

But you hadn’t asked Obi-Wan, you dutifully reminded him throughout his musings over the food, unconcerned at the prospect. Breakfast had been as delicious as it had smelled — your taste buds had been assaulted with the flavor, but it had been a gratuitous ordeal that had reminded you of a bustling diner and the toothy grin of a Besalisk. “Just missing the powdered Christophsian sugar,” you’d praised, and he’d barely hidden his glowing simper as he cleared the dishes. You know his apprehension at looking after Luke today is more out of concern for you, rather than lack of willingness.

Just as there were good and bad days of disposition, Obi-Wan’s interactions with his old student’s son were varying. Some visits were joy-filled and vibrant with childish merriment, at the mercy of Luke’s wild imagination, but it wasn’t uncommon for Obi-Wan to retreat to your bed, floored by the striking resemblance the boy had to his father, the memories he tried so hard to forget rushing back in a dark cloud of resignation. Luke was under the impression that his favorite playmate suffered from intermittent cases of sand-fever, trusting enough to believe the excuse. Though he loved you just as much, it was Obi-Wan that Luke idolized the most, and you couldn’t at all blame him for feeling disappointed when Obi-Wan was too unsteady to come out and say hello.

But today, the promise of a happy afternoon rang throughout the air, and you allowed yourself the indulgence of looking forward to the rest of the day. At five years old, Luke was an adoring child, innocent in ways you’d never been able to see, not even with Anakin. He reminded you of a fresh snowbank, ironic as it was, pristine and untouched by the world. Your heart ached to keep it that way.

Luke launches himself at you as expected when he arrives, Owen being kind enough to deliver him instead of letting Obi-Wan make the ride over. Just as well, too — after the doting attentiveness of the morning, you didn’t want to stray too far from Obi-Wan’s side. The former Jedi catches the boy in midair, strong arms wrapping around his tiny frame and swinging him away from you to save you from exacerbating your wounds, and Luke screeches in hysterics as he’s tossed in a wide circle. He attacks Obi-Wan with energetic pokes when he’s finally set down, the older man letting out a surprised oof when he’s headbutted rather hard in the stomach. You muffle a guffaw in your elbow as Obi-Wan shoots you an accusatory scowl, massaging his middle as he assures Owen he’ll return his nephew in one piece. The farmer thanks you both, leaving without a second glance, and Obi-Wan is whisked away by the young Skywalker to entertain his latest fascination with womp rats.

———

They return before dusk, smelling like sweat and death, acrid scents practically steaming off of their robes. You cover your nose as Obi-Wan staggers in through the side door, steadying a chittering Luke as he trips over the trapdoor to the cellar. “Target practice,” Obi-Wan explains, somewhat apologetically. “His aim needs some work.”

“I blew a rat’s head off!” Luke declares boastfully, and cackles while running a victory circle around the kitchen. “It just exploded!”

You turn aghast to Obi-Wan, who ushers the boy into the refresher and instructs him to wash up. As Luke rinses off the trace of the outdoors, you stop Obi-Wan before he can come any closer. You can almost taste the sour aroma that wafts off of your husband. “Don’t tell me he means an actual womp rat. They’re twice his size. If you’re letting him near those predators, Obi-Wan, I’m going to —”

“Relax!” Obi-Wan exclaims defensively, palms raised as if to shield him from your wrath. “It was just a profogg. And we weren’t hunting in the beginning, just setting stink capsules near the hut. Poor thing got too close when we set it off and its friends decided they wanted revenge.”

The clarification does little to placate you, the knowledge that it’s most likely rodent guts contributing to the fumes only further motivating you to stay at a distance. But Obi-Wan has other plans, and a mischievous expression takes over his features as he runs at you, grabbing for your face as you squeal. “Disgusting! Obi-Wan!”

“Not even a peck for your one true love?” He asks, and you bat his hands away. “I was willing to kiss your foot this morning.”

“But you didn’t,” you remark impishly, holding in bubbling laughter. “I’m not kissing you while you smell like an eopie’s ass.”

“Language.” He seizes your wrists as you squirm, though your spirits are still high. You arch backwards, grappling to escape. “Luke might be listening.”

You catch your breath without inhaling in his direction, but it fails when you descend into snickering when a small voice protests, “No I’m not!”

“Go.” While he’s distracted, you push Obi-Wan towards Luke in the refresher, hard. “It’s time for a trim. I think you have profogg gunk in your beard.”

He stumbles back, too late to stop your words from being heard, and Luke yells, “You told me it was a womp rat!”

Another bout of laughter arises in your throat, and Obi-Wan fixes you with a withering glare you’re too perceptive to fall for. “Thanks,” he grumbles, none too grateful, and disappears into the sink.

———

“Careful of your fingers — you don’t want to cut yourself.”

After the bits of wildlife had been safely discarded down the drain and the boys had changed into fresh clothes, you watch as Obi-Wan guides Luke’s wobbly hands down his own stubbled throat. The sight of the shaving cream that covers most of Obi-Wan’s face is priceless, but you opt for appreciation rather than humour as the touching moment transpires.

“Better to cut me than you, but let’s aim for no one, alright?” Luke nods, tongue poking out in concentration as he shucks off more hair from Obi-Wan’s chin. He’s holding the razor with both hands, standing on a stool while Obi-Wan kneels to stay within reach. “Firmly, but with precision. Very graceful.”

Luke’s hyperactivity is nowhere to be found, and you admire his focus. Maybe you should have him shave your husband more often. Both the Lars and you would certainly benefit from the resulting tranquility.

But, no — you’d miss the beard too much.

“Done!” Luke leans back and throws his fists up in delight. Obi-Wan is quick to snatch up the tool to avoid any accidents, and places it back in its compartment as he turns to the boy overflowing with pride.

“Let’s check, shall we?” He rises from his knees with a low grunt and the pop of his joints — one you don’t miss, but refrain from pointing out. For a second, all you see is the back of Obi-Wan’s head as he washes away the lather, then it’s the dismayed twist of his mouth as the uneven patches of missed hair gleam in the mirror.

Luke bounces up and down, making an effort in vain to assess his work. Obi-Wan quickly readjusts his features as you hide your face, silently shaking with amusement. “Did I do okay?”

Obi-Wan squints down at him warmly, brushing the boy’s bangs out of the way. “Yes, An — Luke, you did.” Luke cheers underneath the large hand on his crown. “You did splendidly.”

In a flurry of shouts and whoops, Luke ducks out of Obi-Wan’s arm and exits the refresher, unaware of the almost-slip, but you freeze, more shocked than you have been in months. Years. Obi-Wan’s never done that before.

He meets your wide eyed stare in the mirror, all remains of Luke’s comical shaving job gone, neither of you able to verbalize exactly what you’re feeling.

But eventually, the impact of his blunder fades, and you break free from the fog of your stupefaction.

Your bandaged hand finds his shoulder, soaking up the droplets from his shower, and rubs consolingly, back and forth. You hope it conveys all that words can’t say. A pang strikes you as Obi-Wan lets out a trembling exhale, the unfinished name falling away to the empty room, and you resist the impulse to crush him into a hug.

He needs space.

The watery eyes you expect to see are dry in seconds, and all is well again.

———

You look on as Obi-Wan props Luke’s tuckered form into Beru’s waiting arms, meeting her gaze with a gentle understanding. She secures him into the passenger seat as she mounts the landspeeder slowly, seemingly sensing the hesitance radiating from two of you, uready to let the day end. When they finally depart, Obi-Wan watches them leave from the entrance of the dwelling.

“It’s alright to love him, you know.” You approach him once Beru and Luke are barely a speck on the horizon. You come up to latch around his chest, tiptoeing to kiss his back. “It’s okay to be attached.”

He shifts, rotating so that his back is to the wall after he’s sealed off the door. His own arms raise to encircle you, and you lean your cheek against his bicep before he plants a kiss to your forehead. It spells devotion as you sink further into him, muted ardor enveloping you both. “I know.”

“Do you?” Your voice is quiet to preserve the shroud of calm. “I worry you’re holding back, and you don’t have to. Not here.” Another kiss to his skin. “Not anymore.”

You feel the deep inhale more than you hear it, and his breathing soothes you more than you ever thought possible. It’s proof he’s here, real in your grip. You have each other. “I’m not,�� he promises, lips stuck to your hairline. “Though you should know, my heart is reserved for you.”

That brings a laugh out of you, tinkling and bright. You clutch him tighter, warmth swelling inside you in spite of the cooling air of the evening. “You have room for Luke in there.”

Obi-Wan examines you closely, pausing only for a second before he speaks again. “Perhaps more than just him.”

And there it is, the admission you’ve always been curious for yet never wanted to ask. Your breath hitches — only a tad, but you know he picks up on it, and you peer at him cautiously. It’s a conversation you’ve avoided so many times before.

Admittedly, today was the perfect day as any to prime the subject. You’ve never been sure whether Luke has assured Obi-Wan that he wants nothing to do with parenthood or if it inspires a desire to have a son of his own.

It’s not revisited until you’re crawling back into bed, back to his bare chest, and the ghosting touch of his hand smoothing down your front draws your attention away from the sensation of his body enfolding around yours. He’s trying to be discreet, you can tell.

“Practicing?” You whisper, with only a hint of knowing so as not to scare him off. There’s no need, you realize, when you feel his mouth twist into a lopsided smile against your nape and his fingers spread unabashedly across your stomach.

“Perhaps,” he repeats, and it’s enough.

#rini writes #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #SORRY FOR THE WAITTTT LOL SHE'S HERE #I almost named this one 'tales of tatooine' as in 'tales of ba sing se' but I decided not to lmao #this one came out of nowhere tho all the ideas just flew out #as always I hope you like my loves #<3

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teenwolffanclub-me · 4 years ago

Text

Season 2, Episode 3: Ice Pick

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic!Reader

Notes: okay we finally have some ✨relationship development✨ and I hope you’re as excited as I am :-)

Tag list: @that-winged-rat @trustfundparker @rainbow-unicorn69 @good-vibes-and-glitter @x-give-em-hell-kid-x @prevostsasha @bobo-bush

————————

“I’m telling you, it was like a-a big...lizard or something.”

I blinked slowly, trying to comprehend the words she was saying through the buzzing of the cafeteria. Allison’s eyes widened, as if only then realizing how crazy that sounded. She quickly diverted her attention to Scott, who sat beside her, and bumped her shoulder into his.

He cleared his throat, glancing around the table and squirming nervously in his chair. “Yeah, it was weird. I didn’t get a good look at it...”

“Well, what did you see?” Stiles huffed, shifting forward in his seat to lean over the table as if that would help him hear better.

The two of them had spent almost the entire lunch period trying to explain something they encountered in Isaac’s house the other night. They honestly weren’t making much sense, but they both seemed utterly freaked out, which wasn’t helping to calm my nerves.

“I-I don’t know.” Scott shook his head with a troubled furrow of his brows. “It was fast. Really fast. It walked on the ceiling, and it was...hissing at us.”

“So there’s yet another supernatural monster in Beacon Hills. Awesome.” I slouched back into my seat, a feeling of defeat washing over me. We’d barely just come out of our troubles with Peter and Kate. The last thing we needed was a new threat to deal with already.

“I’m not sure it’s bad, though. It just ran away when I got upstairs.” Scott tried to reason, his overactive conscience striking again. He always tried to see the good in everyone. Even a lizard monster, apparently.

“Yeah right.” Allison scoffed, picking at the food she had yet to start eating. “Who knows what it would’ve done to me if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Okay. First, we need to start by...” Stiles voice slowly trailed off as his attention locked onto something across the cafeteria.

His jaw went slack, his eyes widening in wonder. A frown pulled at my lips as I let my gaze sweep toward whatever had him so transfixed. Scott and Allison turned around in their seats to see for themselves as the entire room went silent.

There was a girl, only vaguely familiar, strutting confidently into the room. I quirked an eyebrow curiously as everyone craned their necks to watch her slow entrance. My eyes shifted to Scott, an amused chuckle bubbling in my chest as I saw that he had the same awestruck expression on his face.

“Is that Erica?” Allison’s voice rose in surprise as she spun back around to face me, her eyes wide.

“Didn’t she have a seizure in the middle of your gym class yesterday?” I recognized the name from this week’s rumor mill. With a closer look, I could tell that it was, in fact, Erica. Scott whipped around to glare at me and my brows rose in question. “What? It’s not like she can hear me.”

“I’m not too sure about that...” He muttered, his gaze sweeping back toward her as she grabbed an apple off a random guy’s tray and took a bite.

She’d had a complete transformation overnight. The grey, sickly quality to her skin was gone, replaced by a healthy glow. Her dark circles had vanished and she walked with a self-assurance I’d never seen in her before. She usually did her best to remain unseen, ducking through the halls with her head down. Now, she was parading with an almost arrogant smirk on her face.

“She’s with Derek now, isn’t she? Like Isaac?” Allison’s lips pulled into a frown as she easily put the pieces together. It was the only explanation for her extraordinary overnight changes. He must’ve turned her.

Scott glanced at the tray of food in front of him, swallowing thickly as he avoided her prying gaze. I glanced toward Stiles, who just looked back at me with a sheepish shrug.

“You can’t get caught in the middle of this.” Allison continued, her voice a quiet plea. “Don’t you feel what’s happening? My grandfather coming here? Derek turning Erica and Isaac? It-it’s like battle lines are being drawn.”

I chewed on my bottom lip as my eyes flickered between them. She was one hundred percent right, and it was terrifying. It was almost impossible to predict what her family was up to, since they don’t tell her anything and my visions are completely worthless. The one glaringly obvious thing, though, was that something big was coming.

“I know.” Scott sighed, finally catching her gaze with a worried expression of his own.

“There’s always crossfire...” Her eyes glistened as she looked up at him, silently pleading with him to take a step back.

His jaw ticked a few times, his brows pinching as he looked down to the table again. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t just stand by. I can’t pretend to be normal.”

My lips pulled into a frown, unsure why he felt the need to interfere with every supernatural problem in Beacon Hills. For some reason, he felt personally responsible for making sure that nothing catastrophic happens around here. There were so many other people better equipped for the job. The Argents, who’ve trained for centuries to hunt anything that “hunts them” and Derek, who’s been a werewolf since birth, to name a few.

“I don’t want you to be normal.” Allison huffed, seemingly offended that he’d assume that’s what she meant.

She stood abruptly, taking her still full tray with her. She made it a single step before turning back with a sigh. Her eyes met Scott’s, wide and shining with so many intense emotions. It was clear that she was scared, and nervous, and even a little angry. She left just a few parting words before spinning on her heel and stalking away from us.

“I want you to be alive.”

———————

I let out a tired sigh, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder as I walked down the hall. It was just after the dismissal bell, and I still needed to grab my chemistry book from my locker.

I’d nearly made it all the way outside, where Stiles was waiting to drive everyone to an ice skating rink—which he apparently got the keys to by paying off our classmate, Boyd, who works there—before realizing I’d forgotten it. The date had been Scott’s idea, because, and I quote, we all spend way too much time on supernatural bullshit and haven’t done anything fun in forever.

The halls were mostly empty, since the rational portion of my classmates always book it out of here the second the bell rings. All was normal until I passed by one of the janitors closets and the door sprang open unexpectedly. I staggered back in alarm, my entire body stiffening as a hand jutted out and clasped around my bicep.

I was swiftly hauled inside, the door slamming the second I passed through the threshold. My breath caught in my throat as I jerked my arm free and scrambled away from whoever had grabbed me. I winced as my back rammed into a wooden shelf, my chest tightening with anxiety as I glanced around the dimly lit room quickly.

A moment later, I sighed out a long breath of relief as my eyes focused on my attacker standing a few feet away. “Fuck, Stiles. What the hell are you doing?” I gasped out, putting a hand on my chest as I tried to catch my breath.

His lips twitched into a sheepish smile, one of his eyes squinting shut as he scratched at the side of his head. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“What were you trying to do?” Of all the ways he could’ve gotten my attention, that was the most unnecessary. I crossed my arms as my heartrate slowly dropped back to normal.

His gave me a small smile as he took a couple slow steps forward, coming to a stop once there were only a few inches left between us. One of his hands came up to push a stray clump of hair behind my ear, his honey eyes dancing around my face quickly.

“I haven’t had a minute alone with my girlfriend in days.” He murmured lowly, his head dipping down as the hand that was now tangled in my hair guided me toward him.

Despite being the one to initiate the kiss, he was still hesitant as we inched closer together. Our noses brushed in a feather light touch, his fingers twitching against the back of my head as if he wanted to do more but was afraid to. I leaned up to brush my lips against his just once before pulling back.

“Well you’ve got me...so now what?” I couldn’t help but grin, my voice a low whisper as I teased him.

It’d honestly been eating at me all week, so it was reassuring that our time apart had bothered him too. Everyone was so focused on figuring out what the hell Allison and Scott ran into at Isaac’s, that he and I hadn’t had any time to ourselves.

It was way too easy to get sucked into the supernatural world and all of it’s problems. That’s why we were all going ice skating tonight. To try our hand at being normal teenagers for once.

Stiles’ eyes darkened to that warm chocolate color I’d only ever gotten a glimpse of in these more intimate situations. His free hand slid around my waist, his palm resting against the small of my back as he pulled me into his chest. His lips brushed against mine gently and I returned the kiss immediately, leaning up into him and fisting the collar of his flannel to bring him closer.

He quietly groaned against me when I let my tongue trail across his bottom lip. He let me in right away and our tongues explores each other’s mouths for several long seconds. My hands moved to the sides of his head, a chill rolling through me at prickle of his buzzed hair against my palms. He suddenly turned us around and took a few steps forward, slamming my back into a nearby wall.

A surprised grunt fell past my lips, and he instantly pulled away. His eyes flickered over my face quickly, wide with alarm. “I’m sorry. Are you okay? I didn’t mean to do it that hard.”

I couldn’t help but giggle at his overreaction and let my arms wind around his neck to keep him close. “It’s okay. I kind of...liked it.”

My skin erupted with heat at my own confession. I’d always secretly enjoyed the small moments he let himself go like this. I didn’t want him to be cautious and gentle all the time. He still acted like he was afraid to break me when we were intimate, and it wasn’t helping me feel any more normal. His eyebrows rose fractionally, giving away the surprise he was trying to contain.

A slow smile pulled at his lips just before he slanted them over mine again. I arched up into him, sighing as a calming tingle washed over my skin. The feeling only intensified as our kiss became more heated, both of us moaning and gripping at each other almost frantically. It was only when my temples suddenly throbbed painfully that I realized something was wrong.

My brows furrowed as an image flashed in my mind, too quickly to comprehend. I pulled away from Stiles with a gasp, rubbing at my forehead as the pain only increased.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” His voice rose with worry as he clasped a hand on each of my shoulders to steady me.

I forced my eyes to stay open, hoping the vision would pass. Instead, I was overcome with the overwhelming urge to get out of the small room. Maybe if I put some distance between us, it would go away. I quickly whipped around and shoved the door open, stumbling out into the now empty hallway. I heard Stiles’ shoes on the tiled floor as he followed me out, and waved a hand in his direction dismissively.

“I’m fine.” I wheezed out, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. “It’s just...”

I made the mistake of blinking slowly, instantly succumbing to the vision once my eyes were closed again. I was still standing in the hallway, just as before, but Stiles was nowhere to be found. Come to think of it, I wasn’t even in the same hallway. I let my eyes trail over the space as I turned all the way around, finally realizing that I was by the main office.

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sight of a man standing in front of the trophy case just down the small flight of stairs behind me. My eyes trailed down his frame slowly, a strange familiarity tugging at the back of my mind as I took in his weathered leather jacket and dirty, bare feet. My heart started racing as a feeling of complete and utter dread washed over me.

I blinked a few times to clear my vision, jumping again when the man was no longer there. Now, standing in the same exact position, was Lydia. She was unmistakable even from the back, with her strawberry blonde hair, bright blue dress, and high heels that were definitely not school appropriate. When I moved to take a step toward her, I felt myself being pulled back into the present with a jerk.

My eyes popped open and I sat up with a start, one of my hands instantly moving to my chest as I tried to catch my breath.

“Y/N! Oh my god. What the hell was that?” Stiles’ wide eyes bored into mine from above as he clutched my biceps and shook me gently.

I sputtered silently for a few seconds as I got my barings, not knowing what to say. My head moved from side to side slowly as I took in my surroundings. I was back in the hallway near my locker, sitting on the floor with Stiles crouched down in front of me.

“I have to—” I swallowed thickly, my heart still beating erratically. “I have to go find Lydia.”

Stiles huffed in annoyance, giving me a incredulous glower. “Are you kidding me right now? You can’t just pass out in the middle of the hallway and then—what are you doing?”

His wide eyes tracked my movements as I shoved myself up to my feet. Despite looking like he wanted to strangle me for mot staying put, Stiles helped steady me with the hands still wrapped around my arms.

“Going to find Lydia.” I drawled slowly, seeing as I’d just said that, and brushed his hands away.

My knees wobbled slightly as I made my way toward the office. I pushed through the nausea brewing in the pit of my stomach that only seemed to grow with each step. Something felt very wrong. I couldn’t place it, I just knew I needed to find Lydia as quickly as possible.

“Y/N, just slow down for a second.” Stiles’ voice grew hard as he gripped my elbow and forced me to a stop. I sighed, a spark of annoyance igniting in my chest at the delay, and turned to face him. “Whatever the hell just happened back there was totally not okay. I mean you can’t just pass out one second and then run away from me the next and expect—”

“I think I have a good excuse.” I bit out, sounding more harsh than necessary. He pursed his lips, his shoulders stiffening, and I rolled my eyes. “Just trust me?”

After a few long moments of hesitation, he nodded slowly. With that, I turned on my heel and continued on my way, Stiles trailing behind. Less than a minute later, I staggered to a halt at the top of the staircase outside the main office.

My eyes instantly landed on Lydia, standing in the same position I’d seen her in moments ago. A strong sense of deja vu washed over me at the sight. My breathing slowed as I took a tentative step down, nervous that this was all a dream that I’d be waking up harshly from again.

“Lydia?” My voice was a hesitant whisper as I approached her slowly. I didn’t want to startle her, but she stood impossibly still in front of the trophy case, not even flinching at the sound of her name.

I came to a stop beside her, my eyes flickering over her profile quickly. After a few seconds of standing there and getting no response, I followed her wide-eyed stare through the glass. My breath hitched as I caught sight of the words that were engraved into one of the trophies closest to us.

My heart plummeted into my stomach as realization washed over my like a thirty foot tidal wave. There wasn’t much to it. Just two words with captain beneath it.

It was kind of funny, in a terrible way, that two simple words could make such intense dread fill me to my core. It was a name I’d be more than happy to never see again, but couldn’t seem to escape.

Peter Hale.

Lydia suddenly breathed out a shaky sigh from beside me, and I let my eyes sweep back to hers. They were wide and bloodshot, filled to the brim with tears as she gave me this terrified, almost vacant look. All I could do was stare back at her, this whole weird situation only confirming my worst fear.

Peter’s bite had done something to her. She’d been acting different ever since turning up at the edge of the preserve, she was just way too good at hiding it. I was probably the only one that noticed the subtle changes in her, but I knew there had to be something going on beneath the surface.

Now, we just needed to figure out what.

————————

“God, could it be any colder in here?” Lydia muttered, shivering dramatically as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

We’d barely made it two steps into the ice skating rink, and she was already complaining. I guess her little episode at the school hadn’t effected her all that much, and we hadn’t spoken a word of it since. Stiles and I shared a quick glance before he dropped his bookbag from his shoulder and unzipped it to pull out a random long-sleeved shirt.

“Here.” He offered it to her and she curled her lip as if it were the most disgusting thing she’d ever seen.

“I’m wearing blue. Orange and blue...not a good combination.” With a dramatic huff, she quickly strutted off toward the bleachers.

Stiles gaped at her back, his jaw falling slack at her words. “But it’s the colors of the Mets...”

Scott clapped a hand on his back reassuringly as he and Allison passed us by, giggling about who knows what. I rolled my eyes as Stiles huffed in offense and shoved the shirt back into his bag. We joined everyone on the stands a moment later, quickly sliding our skates on.

About thirty minutes later, I stood against the edge of the rink, my hands propped against the wall to keep my balance. All I could do was watch in awe as Lydia skated circles around every last one of us. I was seriously wracking my brain for anything that this girl couldn’t do. She seemed to be great at everything she tried.

She twirled around too many times to count and came out of it smiling proudly, even raising her eyebrows at me expectantly when she saw that I was staring. She skated away and my attention shifted to Allison as she practically dragged Scott across the ice, moving backward so she could keep him steady by holding his hands.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. He’d talked a big game on the way here, saying he’d have no problem ice skating even though he’d never tried it before. The whole werewolf thing was starting to go to his head, apparently. Suddenly, a warm hand closed around mine as Stiles approached me from the side.

“Come on.” He urged, gently pulling me away from the wall.

My knees instantly locked up as I lost my grip on the only thing keeping me upright. It’s where I’d spent most of my time since getting onto the ice. I’d only skated a few times before, and I was absolute shit at it each time. Stiles though, in all his spazzy glory, was surprisingly well balanced.

I let him guide me along, yelping in surprise when he unexpectedly wrapped an arm around my waist and hauled me against him. My hands gripped his shoulders so I wouldn’t go tumbling onto the hard ice as he grinned down at me before planting a quick kiss on my lips.

A relaxed smile overtook my face as I gazed up at him, completely at ease in his arms. Despite being slightly terrified of getting hurt, this was actually a super fun date. It was nice to let go for a little while and enjoy doing something utterly normal with my friends. There were no monsters, no alphas, and no psycho family members here. Just a bunch of teenagers sneaking into an ice skating rink after hours.

After Scott flailed to the ice for what must’ve been the thirtieth time, he and Allison disappeared into a photo booth around the other side of the rink. I let Stiles pull me around in big circles, still wanting to be close to the wall just in case he bailed on me. I couldn’t help but grin as his brows furrowed in concentration and his tongue swept across his lips when he gave me pointers.

He’d been critiquing my form, telling me to bend my knees, keep my feet straight, and so many more random things that were going in one ear and out the other. I wasn’t interested in being perfect, I just wanted to not fall on my ass. After making it all the way around for the first time successfully, I jumped into his arms, proud of myself.

“Whoa...” He chuckled, nearly falling backward as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

I closed the distance between us quickly, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. He instantly tilted his head to deepen the kiss, swiping his tongue along my bottom lip slowly. I eagerly let him in as his arms tightened around me, momentarily forgetting where we were until I heard the unmistakable swoosh of someone falling on the ice.

I pulled away from Stiles and peered over his shoulder, wincing as I saw Lydia down in a low crouch. I was honestly surprised that she fell at all, considering how well she’d been doing the whole night, but didn’t think much more of it. I moved back to Stiles, who waggled his eyebrows at me with a dopy grin. I couldn’t help but giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck again to pull him back in.

Just before my eyes fluttered closed, something strange caught my eye. I jerked back, fumbling a little as I moved Stiles to the side so that I could see Lydia fully. There, poking out of the ice just a few inches in front of her, was a single stalk of wolfsbane. It was unmistakable even from this distance, the deep purple leaves contrasting against the stark whiteness of the ice.

“Oh my God. Are you seeing this?” I breathed, my heart skipping a beat anxiously.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded from beside me, one of his arms still around my waist to hold me steady. “She’s definitely not okay.”

My brows furrowed as I watched her lift a hand to brush against the plant gently. Her head cocked to the side as she inspected it closely, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“No, not that.” I huffed in annoyance, pointing toward the wolfsbane. “That wasn’t there before, right?”

Stiles instantly stiffened against me. I let my gaze sweep to him slowly, slightly afraid to see his reaction to my words, but his face was unreadable. His eyes were swirling with worry as they peered down into mine. He swallowed thickly and cleared his through before speaking.

“Y/N, there’s nothing there now...” His voice was delicate, as if he were afraid that speaking any louder would make me dissolve into a complete nervous breakdown.

My head whipped in her direction once again, my pulse jumping at the sight of her frantically wiping her hand against the ice. Her eyes widened as she peered down into it, her face dropping in terror.

Without warning, she suddenly let out a long, bloodcurdling scream. I winced at the shrill noise, my palms jerking up to cover my ears. When she didn’t stop after a few seconds, I knew I had to do something.

I broke away from Stiles, who was staring at her as if she’d grown a second head, and shakily made my way toward her. I let myself slide down onto the ice when I was close enough, and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. She thrashed against me, her hands pressed firmly into the ice as she continued screaming. It almost seemed uncontrollable, like she physically couldn’t stop.

My head jerked upward as I heard quick footsteps approaching. Scott and Allison stood at the edge of the rink, watching the scene unfold, their faces a mix of horror and curiosity. Lydia finally stopped screeching and sagged back against me, her ragged breathing reduced to harsh sobs as tears streamed freely down her face.

My eyes widened in alarm at the sight. I’d never seen her express such intense emotion before. She always kept that mask of perfection firmly in place, never letting it slip for a second. She hadn’t even been this outwardly upset after wandering around the woods for a week.

As if that weren’t bad enough, a realization slowly dawned on me as my eyes flickered around the ice. Just as Stiles said, there was nothing there. No wolfsbane. Not even a stray leaf. I sat back on the cool surface, letting out a heavy sigh. The nagging sense of dread that’d been slowly drifting toward the forefront of my mind was ever-present now.

And I had a feeling it was only going to get worse from here.

———————

I glared down at the textbook in front of me, rubbing at my temples as I tried desperately to focus. I’d been attempting to study for hours now, and it just wasn’t working. Believe it or not, it hadn’t taken long for me and the guys to get further wrapped up in the current supernatural bullshit.

One of our classmates, Boyd, has been missing for several days. It just so happens that Isaac and Erica are equally as M.I.A., and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened. Derek was still turning people, and he had a clear pattern. He was picking through the outcasts first, choosing loners who wouldn’t raise much suspicion if they just suddenly stopped coming to school.

What he didn’t count on was coach Finstock alerting the team of Boyd’s absence. After school, Stiles went to his house to check on him, while Scott was on a mission to find Derek. That left me here, all alone in my bedroom struggling to study.

I’d been trying to get ahold of Stiles for the last hour, but he hadn’t answered any of my texts. I didn’t want to be that clingy girlfriend, but I was honestly starting to get pretty worried. If Boyd was caught up in this mess, there could easily be hunters on his trail already. There’s no telling what Derek is up to, either, and that made me incredibly nervous.

Just then, something thumped against my window. I jumped at the unexpected noise, my eyes instantly darting toward it. My shoulders relaxed a moment later as I saw a familiar face, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. I popped to my feet and walked across my bedroom before sliding the window open.

Scott tumbled to the hardwood floors, rubbing at his forehead with a grimace. “Why is your window closed?”

“It’s forty degrees outside.” I huffed, shoving the glass pane back down as a gust of freezing wind blew inside. “What, am I just supposed to keep it open incase you decide to crawl in?”

He rolled his eyes at me, brushing his clothes off as he quickly scrambled to his feet. I crossed my arms over my chest, quirking a curious brow in his direction.

“Stiles isn’t answering me so I need your help.”

I was about to make a snide comment about being his backup plan, when his words finally sunk all the way in. If neither of us could get ahold of him, something was probably wrong.

“When’s the last time you heard from him?” I pressed, my stomach twisting with worry.

“At school, but we’re gonna have to figure that out later.” He rushed the words out quickly, clearly anxious. “I know where Boyd is.”

“Is that really what’s important right now?” I gaped at him, honestly surprised that he would choose to pursue the Boyd issue when his best friend might be in trouble.

“He’s fine, okay? I need to stop Derek before this gets out of control.” His voice hardened as he grew impatient with my stalling, but I didn’t give a single fuck. I didn’t want to be wrapped up in this supernatural shit anyway.

“You don’t have to do anything, Scott.” I threw my hands up in exasperation. “No one’s expecting you to fix all of Beacon Hills’ problems.”

“Are you gonna help me or not?” He pressed, moving toward my bedroom door expectantly.

I let out a long sigh, not even having to consider my answer. Of course I would help him, because he’s way too strong-willed to see that one of these days he’s going to get himself seriously hurt. I gestured for him to open the door and he gave me a triumphant smile before stepping into the hallway.

About twenty minutes later, we made our way into the ice skating rink cautiously. I guess it made sense that he’d be here if he ran away. Scott wouldn’t tell me how he knew to come here, because he didn’t understand it all that well himself. He said he just knew and that it was a werewolf thing.

It didn’t take long to find him, since he was driving around the ice on a huge zamboni. It was kind of hard to see in the dimly lit rink, but it was definitely Boyd on there.

“Boyd!” Scott called, his voice echoing through the large space.

He didn’t even move an inch, just continuing to stare ahead and ignore us. Scott stepped onto the ice easily and made his way toward him. I followed suit a lot slower, my knees wobbling as I tried to stay upright. My arms flailed at my sides as I slid slowly in their direction.

“I just wanna talk. Hey, come on Boyd, please. Did Derek tell you everything? And I don’t just mean going out of control on the full moons. I mean everything.” Scott tried again, this time earning a visible sigh from our classmate.

He turned his head slowly in our direction, his face completely devoid of any recognizable emotion. “He told me about the hunters.”

“And that’s not enough for you?” I snapped, nearly falling flat on my ass as I shakily came to a stop beside Scott.

“Whatever you want, there’s other ways to get it.” He added, looking up at Boyd earnestly.

I admired the way that he cared for everyone, even if he didn’t know them well. I’d only seen him talk to Boyd a handful of times all year and yet, here he was, going out of his way just to try and change his mind. It was a bit misguided at times, but still admirable.

“I just want to not eat lunch alone every day.” Boyd’s voice dropped sadly, his frustration at being a loner clear. My heart went out to him, it’s hard to make friends in high school, but that doesn’t mean you take a crazy persons offer to turn you into a werewolf.

“If you’re looking for friends, you can do a lot better than Derek.” Scott scoffed, rolling his eyes at the idea of anyone being friends with him.

“That really hurts, Scott.” Both of our heads whipped toward the entrance of the rink at the sound of a deep voice. My eyes flickered over Derek, Isaac, and Erica as they all stood in a line several feet away. It was honestly impressive that the three of them managed to get all the way here undetected. “I mean, if you’re going to review me, at least take a consensus. Erica, hows life been since we met?”

She hummed lowly, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips as she twirled a strand of long blonde hair around her pointer finger. “In a word...transformative.”

I almost snorted at the accuracy of that word, but my amusement was quickly cut short as she barred her sharpened teeth and growled our way. My eyes widened, shocked at the level of control she already had. It took weeks for Scott to learn how to shift only certain parts of his body, so Derek must be focusing heavily on training them.

That wasn’t a good thing.

“Isaac?” His head cocked to the side arrogantly as he addressed the other beta behind him.

“Well. I’m a little bummed about being a fugitive, but other than that, I’m great.” He tilted his head back nonchalantly, his tone dripping with boredom.

“Wait, hold on.” Scott clenched his jaw and grabbed one of my hands before pulling me behind him. My legs wobbled as I slid across the ice and I gripped his arm for stability. “This isn’t exactly a fair fight.”

“Then go home, Scott.” Derek drawled before jerking his head toward Isaac and Erica.

They both instantly shifted, snarling and growling like wild animals. My heart jumped in my chest and I moved further behind Scott instinctively. I honestly forgot how terrifying newly turned werewolves can be. They had this unhinged energy, like they’d rip a thousand people apart without even batting an eye.

Scott suddenly dropped my hand and gripped my hip instead. I barely had time to glance at him in question before he was forcefully shoving me away from him. I instantly lost my footing at the unexpected move and flailed down onto the ice. Every muscle in my body stiffened as I continued sliding for several feet, only stopping once I slammed against the outer wall of the rink.

All the air rushed from my lungs in a huff at the harsh impact. I blinked a few times to clear my head and shoved my hair out of my eyes just in time to see Scott smash a fist into the ice. My jaw dropped as it easily shattered beneath his fingers. I knew he was strong, but damn was that impressive. It had to be at least a foot thick.

When his head jerked upward a moment later, he was completely shifted into his werewolf form. “I meant fair for them.” His voice was thick and guttural as he forced the words out through a tightly clenched jaw.

He roared loudly, the whole building rattling from the sheer volume of it, as Isaac and Erica came barreling toward him. He easily picked Isaac up by the lapels of his leather jacket and threw him clear across the rink like a ragdoll. I couldn’t help but wince as he hit the plexiglass barrier harshly, but it didn’t faze him in the slightest as he popped right back to his feet.

Erica came at Scott’s back, but he whirled around before she could land a hit, slamming her into the now parked Zamboni that Boyd was still sitting on. Isaac growled before sprinting forward, managing to shove him up against the large vehicle.

He was only caught off guard for a split second, but that was enough time for Isaac to throw him over his shoulder, sending him a few feet in the air. Erica pounced on him the second he hit the ice, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly.

He easily shook her off by slamming her back into the Zamboni, landing a bone-crushing punch to Isaac’s stomach. He lurched forward with a grunt and Scott smashed his elbow down onto his back, making him fall to the ice in a crumpled heap.

I staggered to my feet as both Erica and Isaac laid there for several seconds, motionless. It looked like Scott was quickly losing control of his anger, and I didn’t want him to do something he might regret. Fighting them off was one thing, but situations like this could go south in the blink of an eye if he didn’t reel himself in soon.

I only made it one shaky step before a hand clasped around my bicep, stopping me in my tracks. My head jerked to the side to see Derek’s disapproving face only inches away. I pulled against him aimlessly, knowing that I wouldn’t be moving an inch as long as he didn’t want me going anywhere.

“Let go.” I hissed, my eyes narrowing into a harsh glare.

He quirked a brow, seemingly amused that I’d try and stand up to him. “Yeah, can’t do that.”

At the sound of a pained groan I twisted back toward the fight, just in time to see Scott kick Isaac in the face as he struggled to get to his feet. My eyes widened as he whipped around and threw Erica down onto the ice harshly.

I tugged at my arm again, needing to stop him before things got even uglier. When Derek’s grip only tightened, I faced him and shoved back against his chest harshly. “He’s going to kill them!”

His eyes swept across the rink before slowing making their way back to me. He lifted one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug and I gaped at him, shocked at his lack of compassion. He didn’t even give a shit that the two people he turned into werewolves were getting their asses handed to them.

“God, is being a huge asshole part of becoming an alpha?” I snapped, finally managing to pull myself free. I staggered back a few steps, not expecting him to actually let me go, nearly falling down in the process. “What are you even trying to do?”

He made no move to respond, his lips twitching up into a slow smirk as his gaze flickered over my shoulder. I slid myself around to see that Scott was standing over Erica and Isaac’s unconscious bodies, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.

“Don’t you get it?” His voice echoed off the walls as it rose angrily. “He’s not doing this for you. He’s just adding to his own power, okay? It’s all about him. He makes you feel like he’s given you this gift, when all he’s done is turn you into a bunch of guard dogs!”

He suddenly slammed a hand down onto Isaac’s back and slid him across the ice toward us. He stopped right at Derek’s feet, just before Scott did the same Erica. He rose to his full height slowly, narrowing his eyes into a hard glare.

“It’s true. It is about power.” Derek stalked forward slowly, jerking his hand down to his side to reveal his sharpened claws.

His head snapped in all directions as he transformed, his eyes flashing bright red as he stopped only a foot away from Scott and snarled. Without warning, he headbutted him harshly, sending him stumbling back a step. He took the opportunity to slash his claws against Scott’s stomach and I gasped, instantly covering my mouth to stifle the sound.

My heart lurched in my chest, panic surging through me as Derek landed blow after incapacitating blow. Scott was too weakened by the fight with Isaac and Erica to do anything about it, which I now could see was what Derek wanted the whole time.

A painful realization washed over me just then, as Scott fell to his knees. All I could do was watch as one of my best friends was beaten to a pulp right in front of me. I was utterly useless. Not only did I not have any heightened senses or reflexes, but I wouldn’t even know how to use a weapon if I had one.

Within seconds Scott was laying flat on the ice, clutching at Derek’s leg as it crushed his airway. He coughed and sputtered as Derek finally moved off of him a second later, not even gracing him with any parting words before walking away as if nothing had happened. I instantly started sprinting as best I could, falling onto my knees at Scott’s side a moment later.

My eyes widened as I took in his battered state. Blood was spilling from the sides of his mouth, and the gashes in his stomach were clearly visible through the tears in his shirt. I didn’t know how fast his healing was supposed to work, but it didn’t look like it was getting better at all.

I saw movement in my peripheral and turned to see Boyd walking toward us cautiously.

“Don’t.” Scott coughed out another few drops of blood and tried to sit up, only stopping once I put a firm hand on his chest. He wasn’t in any kind of shape to be moving at all. “You don’t want to be like them.”

“You’re right.” Boyd nodded, slowly lifting his shirt to reveal an almost completely healed bite mark above his hip. My stomach twisted anxiously at the sight. We were too late and this dumb fighting was all for nothing. “I wanna be like you.”

With that, he turned to join the others as they made their way toward the exit. My head jerked back to Scott as he let out a series of pained grunts. His eyes caught mine, shining with worry, as his head fell back against the ice. I could only assume we were both thinking the same thing.

We were so beyond screwed.

Episode 2

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satsuki2406 · 4 years ago

Text

Dear Aomi Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

"I've seen you in a dream before, you are the warm and bright presence that embraced me on Cape Kamui a long time ago on a June afternoon."

Shinohara (Y/N) is a normal girl who had everything she could ask for, a loving family, a beautiful home, friends, and a fluffy cat. For a long time, she gave her life and happiness for granted, never imagining that she'll face one of the worst and crueler facades of society so closely, destroying what once was a happy, harmonious and normal family. One day, in hopes to recover what they lost, the Shinohara family took one of the more difficult decisions of their lives; leave behind their home back in Hokkaido and travel hundreds of miles south until Musutafu, the place that could grant them a solution and help close the yet fresh wound and scare away the ghosts of the past. Hardheaded, passionate, and ambitious (Y/N) is forced to confront the incarnated face of the superhuman society that she hated the most; Bakugou Katsuki.

PAIRING: (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader)

GENRE/WARNINGS: Romance, Fluff, Angst, Dark Themes, My poor attempt of humor, Strong language (Courtesy of King Lord Explosion Murder God *********💥), Manga Spoilers.

STATUS: On going

Chapter 1: School is a Great Place to Make Enemies

Chapter 2: My Stupid Classmate, The Angry Dandelion

Chapter 3: In Conclusion, This Day Was...

Chapter 4: Welcome to the Neighborhood

Masterlist \(￣︶￣*\))

✒A/N:

OH-EM-GEE-

It's really been a while since I updated this story, I really thought it was a couple of months ago, I’ve been very busy lately and just kept pushing writing for later, and later transformed into 8 months! I had to admit that I also had a huge block with this story, but recently I got a lot of inspiration and energy, chapter 6 is almost ready but editing needs to be done after all. Hopefully this would be a good one! There’s more details coming in future chapters and also new characters! I got a thing for OCs recently, I feel they add more personality to the story!

Enjoy!

o(*°▽°*)o

5: Aldera Chronicles

‘Just a good day’ That was what you prayed, asked for last night, and what you tried to repeat to yourself to keep calm and serene while you looked desperately for your earphones. As soon as you did, you connected them to your phone and searched for the loudest song you kept in your collection.

“Oi! I’m talking to you dumbface!”

The loudest one of all.

After the whole ‘neighbors fiasco’ you got stuck with Bakugou on your way to school, both of your mothers insisted that you should go to school together at least today, so you could ‘amend your differences and get closer’ you almost gag at the suggestion, but your mom looked so ecstatic about the idea of you making new friends, after all she hasn’t looked that excited in a while, so you could not find yourself saying no to her.

Although you ‘accepted’, that didn’t mean that you will stay with him all the way to school, right now you were still in their field of vision, so if you left him behind, they will notice. You were just waiting for the perfect moment, as soon as you made it to the end of the street and turned to the left, you will take that as a cue to hop on your bike and leave him behind eating your dust.

“What a shity morning, stuck with this idiot. That friking hag threaten me to change the wifi password if I didn’t come and to top it off, she had the fucking nerve to take my phone, fan-fucking-tastic…” Bakugou was right in front of you grumbling angrily and throwing profanities left and right. His anger was more than evident; he was more hunched over than normal; his hands were way deeper in his pockets to the point you thought he could rip them open and his feet were stomping on the ground with such intensity that you could almost feel it vibrate under your own.

Despite the fact that you could not see his face, you could bet your (F/C) post-its that there was an extra deep scowl and curled pouty lips ‘decorating’ his face right now. You tried to distract yourself with your phone and avoid Bakugou as much as possible, it was bad enough to spend more time with him than you already did in school, not to mention that unwanted encounters may become commonplace being next-door neighbors.

You sighted dejected at the thought, you really were kind of excited about moving to a new city, Musutafu was way bigger than Sapporo was, with bigger malls, parks, shops, restaurants and more fun things to do. But sadly for you, Bakugou manage to crush your hopes and expectations as soon as he opened his mouth, hell, even by existing actually.

Your attention was snaped back to reality when the sound of cars passing by and other students came to you. You got on your bike again, getting in front of Bakugou so you could reach the avenue faster, “Oi! Don’t go in ahead of me dumbshit!” You ignored him as he yelled at you, his words more and more inaudible as you got farther.

After a few minutes you had lost him completely, he probably went the opposite direction to the bus stop or the train station, Aldera was close, but not enough to go walking, you did it there in twenty five minutes with your bike if you took your time, fifteen if you were in a rush, you made sure to verify how long it would take you to get there the days prior that you had to actually go back to school.

You decided to relax and enjoy the view of the city and listen to your favorite songs like the day before. Luckily the Tatooine Station was open, safe and working at its fullest.

“Not a single villain in sight, phew, how good that they managed to clear the area otherwise I would have had to…” Suddenly memories of your crossing trough Dump Beach™ came to you, that was an experience you were so willing to don’t repeat ever again. “I wonder who else from my school had to make a detour like me yesterday, or if someone was involved in the incident… those ladies said it was a middle schooler, but it’s quite ambiguous data to make any conclusive statements, there are hundreds of middle schools in Musutafu and the commercial district is in the center, so it could be anyone.”

You stopped in front of a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. ‘I’ll ask Midoriya if he knows something else, he probably passed by or something’. You had to admit that you were kind of excited about the idea of befriending the green head, even with his nervous, anxious, jumpy and shy personality he gave you a kind and sweet vibe. His insecurity gave away his true nature; his clumsiness, the nervousness, overanalyze everything, the mutter, for some they could be annoying but you found it rather and oddly fascinating, it made him feel real, genuine and honest.

‘He’s almost like…’

The chirping sound of the traffic light snapped you out of your rampant thoughts announcing that the light had finally turned green. You started off with your bike along the rest of the pedestrians and continued on your way to the school.

The rest of the way to Aldera passed without any hitch, you left your bike locked and took your stuff to walk to the shoe lockers like yesterday, just a few feet ahead you distinguish a very familiar mop of green curly hair. He seemed slightly hunched and deep in thought, probably way too deep in thought to the point that you could see a colorful smeared aura surrounding him and the word mutter coming out of his mouth. And you were not the only one, as you could see the people around walking away, with slightly perturbed expression on their faces. You just took it as a cue to let your presence being known.

“Good morning Midoriya!” You hopped by his side and greeted him enthusiastically. The poor thing almost had a heart attack and jumped out of his own skin as you just scared the shit out of him. He released a muffled scream and seem to calm down a tiny bit to immediately turn the shade of a tomato and babble a greeting.

“G-G-G-G-G-Good mo-morning Shinohara-san! You-You-You caught me by su-surprise.” He squeaked as he covered his face with his arms and his eyes moved erratically to look everywhere but you.

“Did I scare you? I’m sorry! I guess I let myself go a little bit.” You trailed, resting a palm against your nape.

“Oh nonono! Please don’t apologize! Y-Y-You were been courteous after all. He whispered breathlessly at the end fidgeting his fingers nervously. “I…nobody ever greets me or says good morning, I didn't expect it and that's why I got a little nervous. T-That’s all, so don’t worry.” His little confession shocked you for a moment, it was really depressing to be honest but it motivated you at the same time.

You beamed confidently at him, “Well Midoriya, I recommend that you get used to it then, because I intend to greet and say goodbye to you every day without fail from now on.”

He looked up at you with a surprised and somewhat puzzled expression, his fingers started to twitch nervously, his countenance became even redder if that was even possible.

“B-B-B-B-B-But Shi-Shinohara-san-!”

“Shush, shush, shush! I am not going to put it up for discussion this is how it’ll be from now on and it's over.” You placed your hands on your hips, a slight scowl adorning your face to accentuate your mock annoyance. “Besides, who will run away from Bakugou with me after I tell him how much of an asshole he is for the umpteenth time in a row?”

You relaxed your demeanor again, offering him a goofy smile, so he could notice that you weren't even mad to begin with. The poor greenette thought for a smidgen that he made you angry and that worried him profusely. But one glance at you told him that you were being sincere, he was scared that you could be trying to play a prank just to make fun of him as it has already happened to him so many times. that alien feeling of relief and tranquility invaded his chest, apparently the chance encounter he had with his childhood hero had been a good omen and brought him more good things that he could imagine.

His eyes teared up with hope and a squiggly smile adorned his face, he dried his tears with his gakuran sleeve and clenched his fists excitedly.

“So, what do you think?” you asked eagerly.

“I look forward for it!”

“Did you see what happened yesterday at the commercial district? It seemed pretty rough” You commented to Midoriya absentmindedly while you took your uwabaki from your locker. He visibly flinched as he heard your question almost dropping his shoes in the process.

“Ye-Yeah, they said that the pro heroes could hardly put up a fight because of the villain’s quirk.”

“Right? Hopefully All Might was nearby, otherwise who knows what would have happen. I wonder if the hostage is ok, I didn’t watch the news last night so I’m not pretty sure what exactly happened. Do you know how it was?

He flinched again and turned his head to you rigidly as you raised an eyebrow at his sudden odd behavior.

“I do-don’t know a lot but I read that everything was ok afterwards, the hostage walked out with just a couple of scratches, so there’s nothing to be concerned about Shinohara-san, it’s pretty nice of you to worry so much, especially since the hostage…” Midoriya looked down and tapped his trembling indexes together; he wanted to tell you something, but didn’t know how.

“Come on Midoriya, you already told me the hostage is ok, what can be so bad that you are hesitant to tell me?” You inquired him softly.

“Is nothing bad per se, well, you’ll see the hostage…” He paused and looked in all directions to check if anybody was listening. Ok, weird. He got a little closer to you and cupped his mouth with his left hand.

“The pe-person captured yesterday was-”

Your little hush-hush conversation was interrupted when the metallic sound of a locker being abruptly opened echoed in the sudden silent space. Your ears located the unexpected noise behind you and instinctively you turned to see what had caused such a ruckus.

A couple of lockers from you, a really angry and really frustrated Bakugou appeared right in front of your eyes. You observed how out of the blue everything and everybody seemed to freeze in time, and all eyes were on him. The atmosphere turned tense, every person there watched attentively his every movement, talking with just a glance, some people were whispering among themselves no even taking their eyes off him.

‘What the hell is happening?’

He took his uwabaki and slammed them on the floor, removed his shoes and buried them unceremoniously in the locker, slamming the door shut. He grumbled, trying fruitlessly to put his uwabaki, cursing that he couldn't put them on as smoothly as he would’ve liked. He suddenly stopped his movements, acknowledging the unwanted attention he was receiving.

“The hell are you looking at you fucking losers?! Why don’t you mind your own damn business, huh?!”

His voice echoed with fury at the school entrance, despite their obvious fear, nobody moved an inch, all the eyes glued on him. He finished to put on his shoes and stomped further inside. At the corner of his eye he noticed your presence and immediately stared at you, he seemed even more infuriated than before, this clearly soured his mood even further, if that was even possible.

You returned it with one of your own, as intense or more as his, the attention seemed to turn your way as your little staring contest became longer, Midoriya nervously looked between you and him, probably waiting for another showdown to break out, just like yesterday. Everybody’s breath hitched by the minute, but you didn’t back down, your (E/C) eyes met the fiery inferno of his crimson ones, after a couple more seconds he just tsked and stomped away with his hands buried way deep in his pockets.

After he left, the clock started ticking again, everyone took a breath of relief, averted their eyes from his retracting back and continued their lives like always. Midoriya’s shoulders relaxed significantly at the time that his soul slowly returned to his body. When you noticed him more calmed and focused, decided to address the elephant in the room.

“What. The. Heck. Just. Happened?” You whispered bewildered. “Who peed on his cereal? If this is something usual here, I’ll be more than glad to take my bike and go all the way back to Sapporo.” You crossed your arms over your chest and stared irritated at his retracting back.

“Well, now that Captain McTantrum™ left, what was that you wanted to tell me about yesterday’s incident?” You asked relaxing your demeanor to something more gentle and friendly. Midoriya flinched slightly and his poise appear suddenly uneasy.

“Um, well, the person-the-the person th-th-that got trapped by the mud villain, tha-tha-that person…” Midoriya tried over and over but it was useless, he couldn’t complete a single sentence without stumbling over his own words. Noticing that using his words would be useless, he looked at you in the eyes to then wander his gaze, pointing to something behind him. You started at him completely lost while he kept repeating the same cycle of looking at you and then looking away, urging you to get what he was trying to say, not moving his head once, like he was unsure to look back.

You exanimated what was at his back; just a couple of students walking to their respective classrooms, friends greeting each other, and Bakugou turning to the right at the end of the corridor to go upstairs-

‘Wait, Bakugou?’

Then it hit you, the awkward silence when he arrived, the unwanted starring, the murmuring, his more than usual foul mood, the outburst, Midoriya’s reluctance to tell you, he probably though he would get into trouble with him if it reached his ears that stupid Deku was talking shit of him to thief bitch. Everything made sense now. You broke out of your trance and looked at Midoriya “Was Bakugou?-” He eagerly nodded his head, satisfied that you finally understood him.

“Oh, I see…”

“Y-Yes…”

“…”

“HOLLY SHIT-”

With the issue clarified and only five minutes left before the class started you two proceeded to go upstairs as well. Midoriya and you made small talk with some intervals of comfortable silence here and there, soon enough you both reached your classroom, people chatting lively when you opened the door. Midoriya walked in just behind you as you made it to your designated seats.

‘If I’m not wrong, Math is our first class of the day’ your mind wandered to other school related topics while you seated at your desk, just as you did the bell ringed and your teacher entered the classroom and started his lesson of the day.

Midday finally came, which mean it was finally lunch time, you invited Midoriya beforehand to eat with you, he timidly accepted, after a lot of nervous quacking but you could tell he seem excited about the idea. As soon as the bell that announced the so waited lunch break ringed, you proceeded to pack your books and stationery into your bag and take out your bento when your desk was crowded by what it looked like to be all the girls in your class. One of them, a girl with short brown hair and blue eyes was the first to approach you.

“Hey Shinohara! Do you want to have lunch with us? We didn’t actually have the chance to talk yesterday and we thought it would be nice to know you better.” She spoke.

“Yuki-chan is right! Is refreshing to have another girl in the class after almost three years since we are very few, with you we are eight now!” Said another one of them visibly thrilled.

“You looked so cool yesterday when you confronted Bakugou!”

“I think nobody has managed to do that and live after it, or actually do it”

“Right?!”

“So awesome!”

They gave you a really kind and chill vibe, chatting and praising you animatedly. Although they seemed to really enjoy Bakugou’s antics against your green head classmate, well, nobody's perfect, noted. You can’t judge the book by its cover, but when you looked at them, it’s impossible to not think about…

The offer is almost irresistible.

Almost.

“That sounds lovely! But Midoriya and I agreed to have lunch together today, so I’m afraid we’ll have to leave it to another time.” You almost cringed at how cutesy and honeyed your voice sounded but they seemed to buy it, until their expressions made a 180. Their faces were shocked and almost offended at the thought of you putting him over their proposal. It was a ‘are you for real?’ reaction over all. You kept smiling at them to emphasize that you were serious, when the girl that talked first tried to dissuade you.

“B-But why don’t you eat with us today and leave your lunch with him for tomorrow? I’m sure Midoriya won’t have a problem, right?” She turned and looked at him just as the rest of the girls did after she, Midoriya flinched nervously holding his bento at the unexpected attention he was receiving.

“Eh…! I…! Well… Um…”

“You see! He’s ok with it!”

‘He hasn’t even said a thing!’ You thought trying to conceal your disbelief. ‘Let’s put all the beef on the grill then’

“Oh, I got an idea!” You chimed. “Midoriya! Why don’t you join us for lunch too? That way nobody eats alone and we get to know better! It’s a win-win plan! What do you think?” You were not dumb, although it was true you can’t judge anybody by a simple glance, you had a somewhat firm idea of why they were so eager to mingle with you, so you just did what you thought it was necessary to make sure it was not that, and what a better way than with your nerve-wreck of a friend.

‘What a better way to know someone’s character than by the way they treat others?’

The poor guy looked like he was about to have a seizure and your classmates were not any better; they looked at you even more astonished than before, and you could swear that they started to sweat. Suddenly they look to be hesitant, even the more insistent one. They looked at you, at each other and then at Midoriya.

“I-I think you are right, it wasn’t very nice to insist after you already had plans with…Midoriya, I guess we can leave it for another day.” The others seem to agree, a bit crestfallen but relieved nonetheless.

‘I knew it…’

They shortly left after that; you kept your friendly smile until they finally disappeared behind the door, when they were out of your view completely you let your smile fall and collected your lunch from your desk. You marched to the door, but stopped midway when you noticed that certain someone was still standing lost in his own world, mumbling nonsense as usual.

“Midoriya” You called him, he seemed to have got out of his trance and looked at you eyewided, confused and bewildered.

“Huh?”

“Are you coming or what?” You said smiling.

He stared at you genuinely surprised, but he swiftly shook his head and walked towards you.

“Yes!”

“A-Are we going to eat outside?” he asked curiously.

“I mean, it’s a beautiful day the temperature is perfect and this would actually be the first time ever that I had the chance to be outside in early April without freezing my butt. Do you have any place in mind?”

“No, I-I always eat by myself, so I prefer to stay in the classroom” He answered somewhat ashamed.

“Its ok, I know the perfect place.”

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

Text

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.14 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Hey, Stretch might hate to see Edge leaving, but he sure does love to watch him walk away.

~~*~~

Read ‘All In The Jeans’ on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch let Edge lead him outside, towards the winding front walkway. But instead of heading down the stone path to where Stretch’s bike was sitting there like a steampunk nightmare invading their gingerbread fairytale, he drew Stretch down to sit on the front steps of the porch. The bricks were soothingly cool beneath him in the waning heat of the day and Edge sat next to him, his knee bumping lightly against Stretch’s.

“You don’t have to rush off just yet,” Edge told him quietly. “There’s still some time before sunset.” He still had a hold on Stretch’s hand and a bony thumb rubbed gently across the backs of his knuckles. “But you looked like you needed some air.”

“yeah,” Stretch agreed, numbly. He stared down at yard in front of him, the riotously colorful flowerbeds amidst rocky outcroppings that led their way up the little hill to the house. It was a little cooler here in the woods out of the stark sun overhead in town, closer to another season than summer or so it felt to him. It was all so inviting, welcoming, and his first thought upon seeing it that this was a trap of some sort seemed a little insulting now that he’d been fed and released. He’d eaten Red’s food, hell, moved right into his home without a qualm, and a well-kept cabin in the woods was where he drew the line?

But then, it wasn’t the house where the real problems lay, was it, it was the people living in it.

Monsters and a Human from another multiverse, again, and not just any Monsters, but another set of mirror images here in the Aboveground. He’d been worried about a Stephen King effect around this place and it turned out he should’ve been more concerned with Isaac Asimov, ‘cause the shift from gothic horror to sci-fi was not one he’d been braced for, with a ‘little invasion of the body snatchers’ vibe tossed in for extra flavor.

Only, that wasn’t fair, was it. Doppelgängers, Edge had mentioned earlier almost like it was a joke, but it was true, just like Sans and Papyrus were and he’d adjusted to them okay. It hadn’t been easy hanging out with someone who wore his brother’s face, but he’d adjusted. And despite the somewhat otherworldly location, these guys had been nothing but kind to Stretch, kinder than the Humans who’d greeted them when they’d popped out from the mountain, for sure.

Hell, Red took him in like a mama dog adopting a stray kitten. The glossy veneer of Stretch’s knowledge-dump panic was cracking and with it his weird sense of numbness, the void it left behind filling with dawning horror.

They were the only three who got out, Frisk said, they’d lost everything and everyone, and fled all the way here, and Stretch was the one about to have a panic attack about it. Exactly what kind of asshole was he trying to be here?

When Sans and Papyrus showed up under similar circumstances, he and Blue opened their lives and homes to them, all tea and sympathy. Well, mostly the tea was from Blue, but still. He was out here in Backwater crying in his soup over a breakup and he couldn’t even dredge up some compassion for versions 2.0?

“i’m sorry,” Stretch blurted thoughtlessly. He turned his hand in Edge’s, shifting to grip his slender fingers tightly. Bare bones against bare bones, weirdly intimate for all that they were only holding hands. He didn’t think he’d ever touched another skeleton like this except his own brother, back when he was little and Stretch was still trying to keep him from running off after every other damn shiny thing he ever saw.

Holding Edge’s hand was a lot different than trying to hang on to his squirmy wormy little brother. Edge only held on just as tight, his brow bone furrowing. “You don’t need to apologize, it’s a lot to take in. You’re honestly taking this all much better than I expected. Theorizing about a multiverse is a great deal different than being confronted with living specimens.”

“no, not that. i get that. i mean—i’m sorry.” Stretch waved his free hand around them vaguely, trying to indicate the entire world with one helpless gesture, “for everything. it must’ve been rough.”

Yeah, nice to see that Stretch’s gift for understatement hadn’t been affected by his personal traumas. Rough was a really great way of describing being the only survivors of their entire world. Next, he’d describe water as slightly damp, maybe fire could be ‘a little burny’.

Edge’s expression cleared, a certain tightness forming around his sockets. “Ah.” He looked away, eye lights rising to the sky where scattered pools of blue showed through the leafy branches. His eye lights were the orangey-red glow of a banked campfire, the crack running through his left socket lent him a sort of strangely thoughtful look. “It’s all right, it was a long time ago for us.”

“about ten years, right?” Stretch winced inwardly, yeah, sure, keep on talking about his painful past, that was a great payback for a yummy dinner. “i mean, that’s what i got from the book you gave me.”

“Yes,” Edge agreed. He didn’t seem to mind talking about it, maybe time really did pad on the emotional distance; Stretch’d have to check back on his own history in a couple years, give his memories a poke and see what bruises came back. “A third of my lifetime.”

Huh. If the math was right, that actually put Edge as a little older than him, who would’ve thunk it, the little brother mythos tipped on its axis, just for him.

Edge slanted a considering glance his way. “We knew other Monsters came to the surface. I kept tabs on the news from the world outside Backwater, just in case—” he hesitated and whatever awful scenario he was thinking about got lost in a shrug. “Well. Just in case. We saw you and your brother on the news with the other Human, and realized you were from a different Underground. They referred to you as Papyrus and Sans then and before you ask, we’d already changed our names before you came to the surface. When we came to this town, actually, and if you ask me why, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. Sometimes in Backwater, certain things simply make sense. One day, everyone started calling me Edge and that’s who I’ve been since.”

He stretched his long legs out in front of him, his slim, bare feet next to Stretch’s grubby sneakers. Edge’d changed out of his grimy gardening clothes before dinner into a fresh t-shirt, still only plain black but the way it clung to his ribcage and along the line of his broad shoulders was worth a second look. His jeans, too, and Stretch was hyper aware of his own baggie shorts and t-shirt that declared he was the taco king of Minnesota, of the differences between them.

“so you already knew about me,” Stretch said, “i mean, before i got here.” There was an unfair advantage if he’d ever heard one.

“In the abstract, yes,” Edge shrugged. “It didn’t seem very important until you showed up in my brother’s living room and tried to hit me with a lamp.”

Fair. Stretch looked back at their feet, at the visibly healed cracks in Edge’s metatarsals, nothing at all like his own undamaged bones. He understood the multiverse theory, wasn’t exactly that complicated. In theory, he and Edge were different version of the same person, each another facet to a complex jewel; that was the theory, anyway. After hanging out with Sans and Papyrus, Stretch had a few theories of his own and the most important one was one he wanted to be sure Edge understood.

“you aren’t really me, you know that, right? not me me.” It seemed important to him that Edge knew that or maybe Stretch had it backwards, maybe it should be that he wasn’t Edge, since Edge was here first by several years. He sort of had dibs, didn’t he.

For some reason, that statement made one corner of Edge’s mouth curled up in a smirk. “That seems rather obvious,” Edge said dryly. “For one, as fascinating as you seem to find my jeans, you wouldn’t fit in them very well.”

“no!” Stretch sputtered, holy shit, abort, abort, do not look at his hips right now, do not do it, “i mean in the context of the multiverse! like how chara and frisk are alike, right? they look alike, but believe you me, chara ain’t like frisk. you and me, we might’ve had the same names once, but we aren’t the same, not really.”

“Chara and Frisk have some ten years of distance between their ages that might account for that,” Edge pointed out, “but I’m no scientist, not even on the weekends. It isn’t me you should be discussing this with.”

Then who…? “i’ve got some data to back it up, i’ve met someone else from another multiverse, you know. two someones, other versions of…well…us.”

Well, now, looked like it was Edge’s turn for a shock, how about that, nice to see it on someone else’s face for a change. “You have?”

“yeah. another set of Sans-and-Papyrus skeleton brothers ended up with us before we ever got the surface. they wanted to stay out of the news and the queen let ‘em.” Stretch shrugged, “i don’t know all their story, they don’t like to talk about it. but it’s been a couple years since they showed up and we definitely aren’t very similar past being skeletons and having brothers.” For one, Blue might not cook as well as Edge, but at least his spaghetti never landed anyone in the hospital with acute food poisoning like some other skeletons who would not be named coughpapyruscough.

But Edge didn’t seem interested in another set of skeleton brothers to add to the collection, not even in the interest of making a full six-pack. He’d shifted to his knees and faced Stretch, his sockets wide, “There’s another Human that fell, then? Into their Underground?” Edge asked, urgently.

“probably, but not that came with them,” Stretch shook his head, “i. uh. i get the feeling their story is a little like yours, only more so and a lot more recent.”

That urgency faded. “Ah.” Edge settled back to sit on the step again. “I see.”

Stretch didn’t ask why Edge was so interested in there being another Human kid, that was a surefire way to wander off the path, but he made a mental note about it. “what i’m getting at is, you knew who i was when you first saw me. what i was.”

“I’m hardly going to mistake the framework of my own face.”

Yeah, see, that was another mark in the column of the differences between the ‘verses not simply being nature vs nurture, but them being different people entirely despite the whole names-and-also-skeleton thing, ‘cause Stretch had been looking at his own face in the mirror for a long damn time and he didn’t look like Edge, fuck no, he’d be the first person to know if he was that gorgeous.

Probably better not to bring that up. “and you guys have been here on the surface for ten years now, taking care of the town, and you never tried to contact anyone?”

Edge only shrugged. “What was the point? It isn’t as if we actually knew any of you. I expected that more Monsters would find us eventually and you did.”

“yeah, by accident.”

Edge slanted him another look, coolly raising a browbone, “You’ve been in Backwater a little while now. Do you truly believe you’re here completely by accident?”

Yeah, okay, that was a pretty good point. “but if you were expecting other monsters to show up eventually, then why didn’t you want me to stay?”

“Maybe because my brother was very quick to adopt a person who is wearing something like my face?” That stung and Stretch looked away, his fingers going helplessly stiff in their shared grip. “Or maybe because the longer you stay, the less likely you’ll be able to leave,” Edge sighed. “That’s how Backwater is.”

“wait.” Hold on, back that up. “you can’t leave?”

“I didn’t say that.” Yeah, and that was a backpedal if Stretch ever heard one. “Frisk has willingly tied their life to this town, and I’m sworn to protect them. I can hardly do that from another city.”

“but nothing is physically stopping you from leaving.” Because if the corn was gonna sprout little legs and come after him if he drank the water here too long, that would be important information to have.

“Where would I go?” Edge countered. “Back to Ebott? Unlike my brother and I, you have ties there. We do not and I’ve very little interest in revisiting the mountain ten years away from it. I have everything I’ve ever needed right here and as for wants, I’ve long since accepted the truth.”

There was a certain bitterness there and Stretch should let it go, he’d already poked that wound enough. He should, but he still ended up asking, softly, “what truth?”

“That sometimes people don’t get what’s coming to them.” The words were so loaded that Stretch winced and hunched down, almost expecting to hear a gunshot. Instead, Edge sighed, let his anger go on an exhaled breath and he sounded calmer as he asked, “Now you’ve heard my secrets. What about you?”

“me?” Stretch snorted. He kept his gaze on the flowerbeds, tracing the flat round stones of the path, and did not meet Edge’s crimson gaze. “heh, you guys are determined to ferret something out, aren’t you. i keep telling you, i don’t have any secrets. my boyfriend dumped me, and it brought me down, couldn’t get past it, so i left town. ended up here…i should be writing this down, it’s like the start of a country song. shame i don’t have a truck.”

“You’d look terrible in a cowboy hat. And your soul?” Edge asked, gentle but implacable.

“that’s not a secret,” Stretch muttered, “i just don’t want to talk about it.” He’d talked about it plenty back in Ebott, for all the good it did him, and he’d hoped to leave those chats behind when he got on the bus.

“Fair enough,” Edge tugged on his hand suddenly, pulling Stretch to his feet, “Come on.”

He barely gave Stretch a minute to catch his balance before he started to run, heedless of his bare feet as Stretch stumbling on after him. His brief, absurd surge of fear that they were, ‘oh, fuck, running from something,’ faded as Edge laughed aloud, pulling him past trees and through flowerbeds, around the corner of the house into the backyard again. Off to the side of the garden beneath a large tree was a massive pile of fallen leaves in a messy sprawl of browns and golds, and Stretch only realized what Edge intended when it was too late to stop him, barely stuttering out a “wait--!” before he leapt and yanked Stretch along with him.

They landed together in a cacophony of brittle crunching and the blinding, whispering surge of leaves launching into the air. Stretch sputtered and flailed, wallowing in the pile that was somehow soft and weirdly crisp at the same time, billowing around him as he floundered.

Somehow, he managed to find out which way was upright again and burst out on the surface, swimming through leaves, and through the madness, he could hear Edge laughing, that deep, rich voice sharing out happiness. For the first time in what felt like an endless dry spell, his soul felt like it was full, joy pouring into it, filling up the empty space in his chest.

“you’re crazy,” Stretch laughed, spitting out a leaf, and watched as Edge flopped back in the leaves, arms and legs moving and sending up another wild swirl of crunchy browns and golds.

“Perhaps,” Edge called, raising his voice over the cronch. “But I made you smile.”

“the technique could use work, but i can’t argue with the results.” He looked up and for the first time, Stretch noticed that not all the trees here were loaded with green. His grin slowly faded. “the leaves are falling.”

“Yes,” Edge’s smile eased down, understanding dawning, and he shuffled through the leaves to Stretch, reaching for him, “It’s a late summer heat right now, but yes. The corn is ripe, autumn is coming and soon.”

Autumn was coming, too fast, and there was nothing Stretch could do to stop it, but that didn’t mean he had to let it go. He was a little sick of letting things just happen around him and Backwater was getting him into the habit of doing something about it. “i want to see edgar allen again. you think if i went back to the field, the corn would give me a pass?”

“I think that a visit can be arranged without that being an issue.” Between the two of them, they managed to wade out of the pile onto solid ground, both of them shedding leaves as Edge headed back into the garden. He skirted the wall of sunflowers, leading Stretch deeper into the rows. Right into a small patch of corn, the tips of the leaves already yellowed and curling.

Stretch stopped abruptly, his sneakers sinking into the soft soil as he stared, “is that…?” In the middle of the little field there was a scarecrow hanging from a crossbar. It looked exactly like Edgar Allen, from the greasepaint face down to the plaid shirt, only now, there was a scarf looped around his neck, the very same one Stretch left in offering.

“It is,” Edge agreed softly. “He is every scarecrow. They awaken when needed or summoned.” He gave Stretch a nudge, hard enough for him to stumble forward a step deeper into the field. “Talk to him. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Talk to him. Right. Stretch swallowed hard, trying to shuffle aside his sudden misgivings. His voice creaked like a rusty hinge as he managed a weak, “edgar?

Then he watched, fascinated. He could nearly see the life filling those limp limbs, the burlap sack of his head lifting as he raised it, and he knew the exact moment Edgar caught sight of Stretch in front of him.

“Well, hey pal! Good ta see ya!” That croaky voice was the same as Stretch remembered and he smiled helplessly, watching Edgar unwind an arm from the bar that held him up to touch the bandana around his neck, “Wanted ta thank ya for the new gear!”

“it looks good on you,” Stretch managed. The turkey-red fabric was bright against the faded plaid of his shirt and Stretch wondered how long it would take for the sun to bleach it out. Would there even be time before Edgar…ended? Did his clothes vanish with him or was he left out in the field to rot after his seasonal duty? He didn’t know and found he didn’t want to ask. For fuck’s sake, Stretch barely even knew the guy, if he was a guy, and still his soul heavy with sorrow.

“Corn thought so, too,” Edgar Allen said gleefully. “Nattered on ‘bout it for hours. Kept me awake for an age, I tell ya.” For all that his face never changed from that greasepaint sneer, Stretch could almost feel the sudden surge of sleepiness rising in the air, the way Edgar took hold of his support again, and slumped back down, “Still restin’ up from it. Thanks, again. See ya around, pal, give me a call if ya need me?”

“i will,” Stretch said and as he watched, that animation faded, life seeping away and leaving behind a nothing but straw-filled bundle of clothes.

A gentle hand settled on his shoulder and Stretch turned to look at Edge, trying to swallow down the thickness of absurd grief in his throat. He’d met Edgar Allen for a total of ten minutes, tops, and it still hurt.

“It’s difficult for him to stay awake when he isn’t needed,” Edge told him softly.

“yeah,” Stretch managed, blinking hard, his sockets aching. “he’ll be dying in a few weeks.”

“Yes, for the season,” Edge agreed, “It’s not really a death, but it is something like it.”

“that sucks, big time.” He understood it, sure, the whole ghost of gyftmas present sort of visit. Didn’t make it suck any less.

“He’s earned his rest and his spirit will return. Perhaps in the spring you can came back to Backwater and meet his recreation.” Edge held out a hand and after swiping angrily at his sockets, Stretch took it, folding their fingers together again. “Come on, it’s starting to get dark.”

It was, Stretch saw dismally, the sunlight creeping through the trees faded and soft with oncoming dusk. He’d already been here a helluva lot longer than he’d meant and it might be an interesting trip back to Red’s if he didn’t hurry; he’d be wandering off the path simply because he couldn’t see the damn thing and he really didn’t feel up to testing the monster bear theory, not today.

The two of them hurried their way back around front. He’d left his bike on the side of the driveway and before Stretch could reach it, the hand in his that had been faithfully leading him all afternoon betrayed him. Suddenly, Stretch found himself yanked around, a tree trunk hard beneath his back.

He looked up with wide sockets and all he could see Edge looming in front of him, stark crimson eye lights boring into his own and arms braced against the tree on either side of him. They weren’t touching, not quite, but he was close, so close Stretch could feel the warmth pouring off of him and it was ridiculous that it made him shiver in the waning heat of the day, an uneasy trill tickling its way up his spine. Something that was not fear was swelling inside him, not fear at all.

“What is it about you?” Edge said abruptly. His eye lights were burning, bright coals in his dark, narrowed sockets.

“what do you—” Stretch started, too weak and a little lost.

He broke off on a confused sound as Edge leaned in suddenly, tried to jerk back but there was nowhere to go as Edge murmured close to Stretch’s audial canal, his breath damp, nearly as solid as a physical touch, “If you think I haven’t noticed your attraction to me, you may wish to redefine the word subtle.”

“uhhhh.” Not that it wasn’t true but getting called out on it right now was a little unexpected, hell, he hadn’t even been looking at Edge’s ass this time. Any reasonable answer slipped away from his fumbling reach. “that’s…i mean…”

“It’s not that you’re unappealing, but as you’ve said several times, you’re getting over a breakup.” A gentle thumb slid along his cheekbone in defiance of what Edge was saying, making Stretch suck in a sharp gasp of breath.

��Not unappealing.’ Wasn’t exactly a glowing endorsement but eh, reviews didn’t always match the product.

“yeah,” Stretch said inanely. “yeah, i am.” As if that meant anything, as if he could even think of anything outside this singular moment. Edge was so close to him, the lines of their bodies separated by bare inches as Stretch breathed out a faint, “sorry.”

He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for.

“I’m not. You aren’t alone in this,” Edge exhaled a soft half-laugh. “I’ve felt an attraction to you since the moment you tried to hit me with that damn lamp. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

“yeah, uh,” Stretch swallowed hard, trying to add some starch to his voice, but it was so damned hard (fuck, don’t think that, don’t, shuffle that pun right to the end of the queue). Edge was so close, and the bark of the tree was rough through the back of his t-shirt, lighting digging into his ribcage like a goad, urging him to move, to step forward, to complete that circuit. Stretch didn’t move. “i mean, the way the multiverse theory goes, i’m sort of you. or you’re me. something like that.”

A low chuckle filled the air between them and Stretch closed his sockets, holy fuck, that voice rumbled through him like a miniature earthquake, “That isn’t what I meant at all. You don’t want to talk about your past and that’s fine. But that doesn’t mean the effects don’t linger.” The very tip of Edge’s nasal nodule brushed the side of Stretch’s skull as he sniffed delicately, his warm breath gusting.

Slim fingertips came to rest on his sternum over his damage soul and that single light touch affected him more than the entire groping session in the library. “I can smell your pain, such a deep hurt in your soul. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“edge,” Stretch whispered, closed his sockets against the answering whisper of his own name. There was the slightest pressure of a knee against his own and the temptation was there to spread his legs, to give it a place to rest, and he shouldn’t, they shouldn’t, but that warning voice was getting softer, distant, caught by a shepherd’s hook and hauled off the stage. He’d gone through half a dozen shocks since he woke up this morning, added them to the pile he'd gotten since he’d stepped off that bus. What was one more?

“I know all of that. I know it. So why am I so drawn to you?” Edge murmured distractedly, “What is it about you? Why can’t I leave you alone?” He reeled back, shaking his head as if to clear it, then, nearly pleading, “Don’t let me hurt you.”

A warning, a plea tangled together as one, and Stretch lurched after him, arms reaching with purely reckless intent, “you won’t, you aren’t, don’t go—"

The sudden klaxon of a horn made them jerk apart, Edge stumbling back and putting space between them. Stretch looked up see a rusty old pickup truck making its bumpy way down the path, coming to a stop with a wheezy squeal of brakes.

They watched it together, Edge with tight annoyance creasing his face and Stretch with panting confusion, struggling to get his breathing under control. It turned out to be a hell of a lot easier when the window rolled down the window and Red poked his head out, like getting doused with a bucket of ice water as he called with deliberate cheer, “hey, you two.”

“Brother,” Edge said, the greeting coming from between clenched teeth.

“you have a car?” Stretch asked, outraged. Shame was taking a hasty backseat because holy shit, he’d spent all afternoon on that bike when Red already had a set of wheels?

Red only grinned, a slash of a smile with his golden tooth winking in the dwindling light. “nah, i got a truck.”

“you never said!”

“you never asked,” Red countered. “it was gettin’ late and i got worried. didn’t want ya trying to scooter your way home in the dark, ya didn’t add a headlight to that rustbucket. toss the bike in the back and hop in.”

It wasn’t a question and yeah, somehow, he didn’t think Red was gonna buy that he and Edge were only talking, not this time.

Stretch felt a guilty flush heat his cheekbones, meekly obeying. It was for the best, he told himself, holy shit, yes, he should be grateful that Red showed up when he did, no matter what kind of protest his crotch was currently bleating up at him. The last thing he needed right now was any other attachments and not only because he felt like getting into another relationship right around never, (yeah, never worked for him) and rebound sex with the boss’s little brother was supposed to be off the table.

Getting into anything past friendship with Edge was a Bad Idea all the way around, ‘cause when it came down to it, Edgar Allen wasn’t the only person leaving, now was he. Stretch didn’t want to think about it, kept trying to avoid it, but the knowledge still came up in the back of his head, readying itself to bite him in the ass.

Eventually, Stretch was gonna have to find his own way home.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #welcome to backwater

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luzarya · 3 years ago

Text

Without Water

Summary: Yuu walks through a desert, when they find a source of water; then another. Eventually, they end up meeting a duo.

[Post Apocalypse- kind of scenario.]

Ao3 link: here

warnings: small mention of death

word count: 2,462

It was difficult.

Life was hard- and barren. Nothing that the eye could see for miles on end, except for the rare flora and the occasional anima; and Yuu was one of the few that survived the onslaught of weather and environmental changes. Finding sources of food was hard, but there was enough for Yuu to make-do.

They haven’t seen another person in years.

It was lonely, at first, but Yuu had grown to get used to it. They didn’t know where they were- no, they couldn’t remember. The city had become submerged in water, forcing many to flee into the nearby desert. At this point, it was likely too far away.

Yuu didn’t know where the next nearest city was. Nor how long since it had started. The days were blurred and Yuu’s sense of time became nonexistent.

The overbearing heat made it difficult to travel, but thankfully, Yuu had plenty of water, after stopping by an oasis that, oh so conveniently, was placed. In fact, it was a bit too convenient.

Just as Yuu would be half-way done with their flask of water, another oasis would spring up. This was not to say that they were incredibly close by- in fact, Yuu was careful to preserve their water supply, but with each instance of bodies of water so close, it made Yuu wonder if it was okay to drink a bit more water.

Yet, every time the thought ran through their mind- they disregarded it. No matter how convenient these sources were, they weren’t eternal, nor would they be convenient forevermore.

Plus, another need plagued Yuu’s mind- hunger. Water could only stave off hunger for so long, and if Yuu didn’t find an animal to feed on soon, they would soon run out of the rations that they had prepared earlier from their last kill.

Yet, Yuu carried on, their eyes looking, hoping, for food to appear.

Nothing.

Yuu shook their head- of course, it would make no sense for an animal to appear right in front of them just when they desperately needed it. Life didn’t function like that, although Yuu sure wish it did.

Yuu took another sip from their flask- it was halfway empty, and if the number of oases had indicated anything, it was that another should arrive soon. And certainly, like they had predicted, they could see one in the distance.

...With two figures around it.

Yuu slowed down their walking, but the two figures never left. In fact, once one of them noticed Yuu, they beckoned for them to come closer, waving their arms around.

“Hello!”

Yuu quietly cursed, resuming a normal pace. The figures, now close enough to see two tan teenage boys, one with white hair and the other with long brown hair, waited for Yuu to arrive. The long-hair individual seemed annoyed, whereas the white-hair boy seemed rather excited.

Yuu noticed a few bags nearby, taking the hint that perhaps that the two were resting. Yuu wondered, had they been any slower, would they still have met?

“A new person!” The white hair boy ran over, taking in Yuu’s appearance, “I haven’t seen anyone for days!”

The long-haired teenager sighed, and said, “It’s only been a few months since this whole mess started.”

...A few months?!

“Is that so, Jamil?” The white-haired boy said, now pondering if there was truth to his words, though, despite the pondering, Yuu could tell it wasn’t serious. Yuu glanced at ‘Jamil’, who scowled.

“Yes,” Jamil replied, his voice straining to hide the hostility towards Yuu, but they still nonetheless picked it up. Though, the white-hair individual didn’t, his face still smiling like before.

“I’m Kalim al-Asim!” The white-haired teenager said, then gestured to Jamil, “And this is my best friend, Jamil Viper!”

“I’m not your best friend.”

Kalim momentarily pouted, but carried on, “So, what’s your name?”

Yuu hesitated for a moment, but they relented.

“The name’s Yuu Kishimoto.”

Yuu stayed with the two fellows, as they shared their food with Yuu. From what Yuu learned, Jamil was the rather resourceful fellow, having been able to create the dish- roasted meat with a bit of spice, all from scratch.

Kalim was rather overjoyed with Yuu’s appearance, as he had yet to see another ever since the disaster began, although he was a bit saddened that he wasn’t going to see all of Yuu- since their attire was made so that nearly every inch of their body was covered. So far, they could only see Yuu’s mouth as they ate the food.

Soon enough, night befall, so Yuu set up camp. It was a flimsy tent, but it did keep the sand and rain out, so Yuu didn’t complain. Not that they had much room to, since it was the only thing they could find, after all, the panic caused many shortages of many necessary supplies. Yuu was lucky that they had already owned a few things that had aided their survival thus far.

Kalim and Jamil had their own camp, as the two spelt together. Yuu briefly questioned why, as Yuu noticed that Jamil often had to have great restraint. The boy was quite good at hiding his intentions and emotions, acting as neutrally as he could, but even then, Yuu would find the smallest of hints that indicated Jamil’s distaste, usually towards Kalim.

Though, that was not to say that Kalim was not without fault. If Yuu could describe him in a single sentence, they would say “He’s the blazing sun that shines too much; a pile of sugar, too rich to handle within a few bites.”

Kalim radiated too much positive and optimistic energy than Yuu could ever handle, already draining them of the little energy they had in the few hours of meeting them. If not for Jamil’s good cooking, Yuu didn’t know if they could have survived a few hours alone with Kalim.

Though, for the moment, Yuu was glad to have found some company.

Morning came, and Yuu half-expected for Jamil and Kalim to have left them all alone in the lonesome of the desert, yet to a pleasing surprise, Yuu saw Jamil making breakfast when they left their tent.

“Morning,” Yuu politely greeted, refilling the flask with the water.

“Morning,” Jamil replied, yet never taking his eyes off the meal he was making.

“So,” Yuu awkwardly began, “Whatcha making?”

“Just some eggs.”

“They’re not… fertilized, right?”

Jamil shook his head, “Didn’t see a hen nearby. Looks like a bird just laid them and went on with their business. Fresh too, thankfully.”

“That’s good to hear,” Yuu sighed with relief, a hand over where their heart was. “Do you need any help?”

Jamil pondered for a moment, until it seemed like he came to a conclusion, “Are you knowledgeable with your spices?”

“Hm? Well, I suppose..?”

“Then get me…”

Jamil instructed Yuu to get the spices as he continued cooking. It wasn’t an extravagant meal, but with Yuu’s help, Jamil ended up getting more ingredients to add to the breakfast.

Fortunately, an animal had wandered by. It was small and quick, yet Yuu was quicker, surprising Jamil with how fast they captured the small creature. Nonetheless, the contribution aided, and now, they had enough food for everyone by the end of it.

The aroma of the food was strong, no doubt, if there was anyone even remotely close, they would have certainly noticed. Yet, it was only the three of them.

Kalim left the tent, stretching his arms, yawning as he did so. He walked over with a bounce in his step, and gave the food a once over.

“Ah, it looks so good! Thanks Jamil!” Kalim greeted, already taking a seat and a plate.

“Yuu had helped a bit,” Jamil stated, as he, too, grabbed a plate.

Yuu followed suit, placing the meal onto their plate, removing the mask that they adorned to eat the meal. Though, it was the type of mask where the bottom was detachable, so, Kalim and Jamil could only see Yuu’s lips and the color of their skin- yet even with the glimpse of skin, it wasn’t guaranteed that the same pigment would be seen all throughout the skin.

Although, if one thing did stand out, it was the lip piercings. They were a neon blue, contrasting their skin.

“I didn’t know you had lip piercings, Yuu!” Kalim exclaimed the moment he saw them, nearly straining Yuu’s ears.

“Ah,” Yuu replied, as if remembering that they had them, “Yea. Had them for a few years now. Thought they looked cool so I got ‘em.”

“Did it hurt when you first got them?”

Yuu paused, trying to recall the faint memory, yet to no avail, “I think it may have? Just a bit. I’m not scared of needles, so I suppose this was fine.”

“I see,” Kalim’s curiosity seemed to be sated, at least for now. He didn’t prod any further, instead opting to eat his meal. Even while doing so, he radiated an immense amount of positivity.

Breakfast then was silent, not a single word said afterwards.

Perhaps Yuu would come to like traveling with them… if they allowed Yuu to do so, that is.

They did.

Granted, it didn’t take much, as Kalim was the one who insisted. It looked like Jamil couldn’t refuse anything that came out of the white-haired boy’s mouth- that if, if you could call him that. It burned in Yuu’s mind about their age. Yuu was on their way to college, just barely graduating from their respective school, yet, Kalim and Jamil gave off the vibes as being younger, yet there was a certain edge to them.

It was odd, though Yuu supposed it was due to their age, being in a weird limbo of being a child and an adult, yet nonetheless, they were still a teenager. Either way, the edge they felt, it was rather odd. Kalim reminded them of the more youthful years, those that were peaceful and filled with happiness, yet, Jamil on the other hand, Yuu could sense a resentment, akin to teenage rebellion and anger, but much more intense.

Yuu didn’t want to bear the brunt of Jamil’s emotions, no matter how good he was concealing them, so for now, Yuu would act in the middle, never swaying towards one nor the other.

Plus, Yuu was certain of one thing- these two individuals were much stronger than them.

Yuu could feel a headache coming on. They let out a quiet sigh, thankfully no one picked up on. Kalim filled the silence with whatever he could think of, yet Yuu was only half-listening.

For now, Yuu decided it would be best to focus on walking and staying near them.

It has been hours, and if it was something that had certainly surprised Yuu, it was Kalim’s unique magic. It did explain all the sources of water that they had encountered, yet Yuu would have never imagined that such an ability belonged to Kalim. Yuu briefly wondered what Jamil’s unique magic was, if he had one, though Yuu was certain that the teenager had one.

After all, those with magic usually develop their unique magic by this age, don't they?

Soon enough, the three of you reach your destination. It had surprised you that there was anything out in the desert at all.

“We’re here!” Kalim shouts, lifting his arms in the air in celebration. Yuu stared at Kalim, then glanced at Jamil for an explanation.

“This used to be our dorm,” The hooded man explained, “We had momentarily left to search for-”

“Survivors!” Kalim cut in, grabbing your wrist, “There have been only a few others who had traveled this desert, though most of them had died. You’re the first we found alive!”

Yuu momentarily blanked out from the statement- just what exactly did he mean that Yuu was the only one they found alive?

“Eh?” Was all that escaped Yuu’s mouth.

Yuu could hear Jamil sigh, as the three of them neared the fence, “As he said, you’re the only one alive so far. Every other person we’ve found out there is dead. It’s probably because of Kalim’s unique magic that you’re alive,” Jamil then glanced over at Yuu, “alongside your hunting skills.”

Yuu had to take a moment to process Jamil’s words, and once they did, they soon found themselves on the other side of the fence, Kalim quick to drag Yuu further into the area, looking back to see Jamil hide a set of keys.

As Yuu was dragged, they saw more people busting in and about- more people than they had seen in the past few months. They could glance a few gardens the further Kalim dragged him as he babbled off about something, what it was, Yuu didn’t know.

“-and that’s everything!” Kalim stopped, Yuu nearly bumping into the teenager. Yuu blankly stared at Kalim for a good moment, before saying something.

“Pardon me, but uh… I didn’t quite catch that?” Yuu saw the boy’s expression morph to a pout, before Yuu began again, their words picking up speed, “I’m just a bit overwhelm and hearing that I’m the only one alive that you found really makes me feel really-”

“Oh, it’s fine!” Kalim quickly smiled, as if he then finally comprehended what Yuu was going through, “You’re probably tired after all that! We’ll host a party to celebrate your arrival!”

“Oh, there’s no need-”

“Nonsense! You’re the first,” Kalim replied, “So we must celebrate!”

Yuu didn’t quite like the idea, but it seemed like there was no way to dissuade him.

It came quickly, and as quickly as it came, the celebration ended. Yuu ended up helping out Jamil with all the preparation, despite Kalim’s insistence that they shouldn’t lift a finger- to which Yuu had yelled that they should, since they were the cause of it.

Jamil started to tolerate Yuu a bit more, it seemed, as throughout the preparation and the cleanup, there was a comfortable silence, only speaking when needed.

Jamil was the one who showed them to an empty room, of which Yuu was thankful of, as well as allowing them access to their bathroom, since it was past curfew once they had finished cleaning up.

Yuu never once revealed their appearance, and they speedily left Jamil’s bathroom before he could even glance at them. The only thing that he had heard was a quick “thank you”.

Thus, Yuu sat on the bed, the room empty save for them. A mirror stood in the middle, as Yuu recall the past two days. Funny, just as they were to be without water, they were saved.

Yuu could only hope that they were able to find a new sense of normal.

#twst x yuu #twisted wonderland #twst fanfic #yuu twst #luzarya writes things yuh

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samanthalendo · 4 years ago

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Why I Almost Went To UT Austin; And Why I Didn’t

(As a preface: I will be speaking mainly in vague details about my personal life and the college I ended up choosing. This is for my own privacy and comfort. In addition, I am not bashing the UT system or anyone who choose to go there; I have loved ones going there very soon, and I have a lot admiration for the school and all the opportunities it can afford someone. However, these are the reasons I will not be attending and some reasons any school might miss out on students they might have otherwise garnered. As well, all photos are mine unless otherwise stated. Enjoy!)

Let me set the scene.

Choosing a college is hard. It’s freakin hard. It’s even more difficult in the middle of a global pandemic. You can’t actually go anywhere, can’t take tours or go to fairs or get a feel for the city you want to call home. I struggled a lot with really connecting to any of the schools I was interested in. Lots of apathy towards the whole process. Despite all this, I had one school I had been interested in since the end of sophomore year, and I thought that was the only place I wanted to go.

The University of Texas at Austin appealed to me for a few different reasons. In no particular order:

It was close to family.

I have tons, and I mean tons of family in Texas. This would have put me significantly closer to them and meant I had a support system when going to college. Making sure I would have a nice warm dinner and bath to escape to on crappy days seems pretty nice during global pandemics! Notably, however, it was not close to my immediate family.

It was in a big city.

Looking back I can laugh at myself and the idea I had for my college experience. At the time I was much more focused on the social and Instagramable side of the school I chose. Any time my parents suggested a school, the first thing I did was look for photos of it. If it didn’t have the feel I was looking for (young, new, hip, growing) I seldom looked further.

Austin was exactly what I was looking for. A city with a 32.4% growth rate in the last decade (1), it screamed new and exciting. I wanted to be apart of that vibe during college, especially when I thought my boyfriend and I would be going to the same place (we are still happily together and just going to different schools, btw). Anything less didn’t seem worth it or fun enough.

It’s a high ranking journalism school.

Rankings are subjective so it absolutely depends on where you look, but UT Austin consistently ranks within the top ten journalism schools in the nation, which is incredible. I’ve wanted to study journalism since about sophomore year and I was so excited that on top of the aforementioned attributes, this would be a reputable place to study and get a degree from. Truth be told, I didn’t do nearly any research into the actual programs, opportunities, or benefits UTA offered, #foreshadowing.

UTA was the first school I applied to, and as such it established my expectations for how applying to a big name school would work. Let me just say it, the application process sucked. I ended up writing two full-length essays, only one of which I used and extensively edited, and at least five different short answer paragraphs. I believe I also had to submit a resume when I applied for the Journalism Honors program, though that was additional. It was intense, and quite honestly didn’t seem worth it. Up until this point I was pretty much riding the wave of, “Yeah, UT Austin, that’s a school people will respond positively to when they ask where I’m going.” As aforementioned, I hadn’t done any in-depth research into what programs UT had to offer me, but from what little looking I had done, nothing was jumping out at me. With nothing spectacular being shown to me on a silver platter, enticing me to #golonghorns, the arduous application process felt taxing and stressful.

(A little side note on writing college essays: do not force yourself to write about something that doesn’t feel genuine to you. I don’t care if you think you have something that they’re bound to notice or admire; if you’re not passionate about it, you won’t get anywhere. As mentioned, I wrote two different essays when applying to UT. In my first essay, I wrote about leadership experiences in high school and how they shaped me. Important? Yes. Influential for me? Absolutely. But nothing I’m ready to rave about to anyone who walks through the door. That essay felt fake and artificial. I knew I didn’t like it or want it to represent me. So, I sat down and started writing about a situation that happened over the summer at my high school, one that really ground my gears. I couldn’t stop talking about how upset I was. I wrote all about the experience and how it made me want to be a better journalist and to always help to portray the truth. If anyone would like to know more about that story, let me know. The point is, I was passionate about the topic and it made it much easier to write believably. I didn’t just need this piece to represent me, I wanted it to represent me. I wanted the application readers to understand my frustration and feel all the emotions I felt in those moments. Pick something you feel that way about.)

I’m not going to BS and say that the application process will be fun if the school you’re applying to is the right one for you. All I’m saying is it should feel worth it, like all this hard work and effort is really going to culminate into your dream school. I definitely didn’t feel that with UTA, which was one of my first red flags. I felt very disconnected from the school, like I was just another fish in the pond of out of state applicants, hoping they’d like my bright colors over the next.

A little background: I am, for the purposes of Texas schools, an out-of-state applicant. I don’t have residency in TX and I didn’t go to a public high school in TX, and this contributes heavily to UTA admissions. I’ll link a great article going further in-depth on the admissions numbers and percentages, but due to the advantages granted to TX resident applicants, approximately only 9% of UTA students are out of state (2). That number is so low because TX students in the top 6% of their graduating class, no matter their test scores, are automatically accepted. This means that on top of great grades, out-of-state applicants for UTA have ACT scores that are between 3-5 points higher and SAT scores that are about 150 points higher than their average TX counterpart.

If you aren’t stressed out just reading that, teach me your ways because I was sure was.

This was sort of where the perceived animosity started between myself and UTA. I constantly checked my email and mailbox, hoping to get a letter or promotional email or something to indicate they were interested in me as a student. Seldom did they ever come. I got hundreds of emails from other schools and received nearly as much snail mail, but hardly ever from UT, even after I asked to receive their newsletters and an informational packet (which never came, BTW).

I quickly came to realize that all of this was likely due to the fact that I was so far away, out of the UT sphere of control or influence. Most of the emails I received were from schools in my neighboring states or in my state, closer with a higher likelihood of recruiting me. A school in TX, where I did not study or hold residency, would not seek me out.

Here’s my issue. They didn’t have to seek me out. That’s fine, whatever, makes sense. But I sought them out. I signed up for everything. I filled out their long application, sent it in early. I tried to tour the school in the throws of COVID, having to settle for a self-paced walk about an empty campus to satisfy my need to know more about this school, to learn more about what it could offer me. None of my efforts proved fruitful, and it didn’t feel like the school really wanted me there. I wondered whether this was really where I wanted to be.

By mid-November, while I wouldn’t have called myself discouraged, I would definitely have identified with the word antsy. When I sent in my application in September, they notified me that I would get my answer sometime in January or February. I can’t even explain how far away that felt. Especially being out of state, I wanted to know their decision as quickly as possible. The wait felt like an eternity.

My dad has always stressed the importance of not putting all your eggs in one basket. While I had shot my shot with UT and was waiting for the scoreboard to change, he was still exploring other options I had in the world of journalism schools. Without me knowing or really agreeing, he scheduled a tour with a school about two hours away from where we lived. It would be on a Saturday, just the two of us, and we’d make a day trip out of it. Honestly, I was more excited for the trip than the school itself. It had always been one I had turned my nose up at; to be fair, I did that with almost any school that wasn’t UT.

We were about five minutes late to the opening presentation at the school. Quickly shuffling into the only seats we saw, some in the very front row of the socially distanced conference hall, we settled in for a lot of new information coming our way. Though he had planned it, my dad didn’t know that much about the school either. We were both skeptical, a bit frazzled, and tired from having woken up around five o’clock that morning.

But with every slide, every question, every time the presenter opened her mouth, we were drawn further in.

It wasn’t just the feel of the school, or the location, or the looks. The facts didn’t lie. I won’t share too many so as to keep at least some privacy, but to say this school was my diamond in the rough wouldn’t be too much of an overstatement. Despite that, throughout the day and our two guided tours, I had a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, keeping me from getting too excited about this new school. I couldn’t help but think about UT and all of the emotional commitment I had already made to it. How excited my family was that I was hoping to go there, how happy my grandmother was that I would be closer to her. I thought of the teachers I had complained to about the long essays, the people who had edited those essays for me. I thought about the burnt orange hoodie sitting in my closet, towards the front due to how often I wore it.

The new school won over both my heart and my head. While I really felt at home there, I also would have to have been dead to overlook all of the opportunities it could afford me. I was close to my immediate family and the town I had gone to high school in. I could come home often, visit family and friends more frequently than if I moved states away. Everything seemed right.

In between our tours, due to the nagging I was feeling, I tried to schedule a tour with UTA, to at least give it a fighting chance. I figured, had I not had an in-person tour of this new school, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. Maybe a real tour would make me fall in love with UT again. However, when I tried to schedule one, all of the tours for the rest of the semester were completely booked, and the calendar wasn’t yet available for the spring semester. I immediately called to find out more, only to be told that they weren’t sure the state of in-person tours upon return to campus after holidays due to COVID. Looking back, I know it was a sign. UT had, for all intents and purposes, closed its doors on me. It was time I accepted the willing arms of the school I gazed upon with wonder, truly in limbo as to what might happen next.

By the end of December, I was admitted and had committed to the new school. I wouldn’t find out about UT for another month, but honestly, I didn’t really need to. This new school had everything I could ever want, and UT had a fair amount of drawbacks. I didn’t and still don’t feel any remorse for committing without having known UT’s decision on me.

I received an email January 29th, over a month after having committed to the new school, that I needed to check my UT MyStatus page. I never really worried about getting in due to my test scores and grades, but I felt a level of anger towards the school that I thought I had gotten over, and finding out I had gotten in after all would bring up new emotions. I checked the page, and sure enough I had been admitted to the University of Texas at Austin’s class of 2025. I wasn’t elated or jumping up and down with joy or breaking down happy crying in my parent’s arms. I was pretty stoic, thinking about all that could have been had I felt any more like UT really wanted me.

(3)

All things happen for a reason. Because I didn’t feel much reciprocation in my love for UT, I instead found the school of my dreams, one that I know I’ll be much happier at. I wouldn’t change any of my decisions, except maybe stressing over the essays as much as I did.

My final thoughts would have to be this: I don’t blame the UT system for not focusing as much on its out-of-state applicants. I mean, I do, but I understand that it’s often simply not in their best interest. I do think that they should have reached out, sent more newsletters, have actually sent me the information packet I requested, anything to make me feel more connected with this place I was dying to call home. While I know they aren’t very focused on bringing in students from other states, I think they should be, especially for those that are going the extra mile to reach out to them.

The right school will have a lot of different things for every different person. For me, that meant being close to my immediate family, knowing I would have all of the opportunities I wanted, being financially secure, and feeling like the school wanted me, not just the other way around. UT didn’t provide me all of that. Finding the school that will is the most important thing. Your needs and wants may be different, but don’t toss all of your eggs in one basket. Don’t be afraid to change your mind and always keep looking for something better. For all you know, it may be out there.

(Thank you so much for reading! Links are below. This is just meant to be an opinion piece and is the first thing I’ve written for myself in a very long time. I hope you learned something and that this may be helpful on your college journey! Au revoir!)

1. https://www.austinchamber.com/economic-development/austin-profile/population/overview

2. https://magoosh.com/hs/college-admissions/ut-austin-admissions-the-sat-act-scores-and-gpa-you-need-to-get-in/

3. https://news.utexas.edu/2020/09/22/four-year-graduation-rate-tops-70-as-ut-austin-admits-one-of-its-largest-first-year-classes/

#ut austin #university of texas #texas #college #journalism #photography #uta #university of texas at austin #university #admissions #ut2025 #2025 #bell tower #writing #opinion #samanthalendo

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wandlores · 4 years ago

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Game On

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Neville Longbottom Words: 1,197 You can also read this on AO3. This is for the @hprarepairnet and @slytherdornet Professors Challenge! I am also dedicating this to @lysatullys. Ily Em. Thanks for always being there!

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Neville Longbottom never expected Scorpius Malfoy to be his favorite student once he became professor at Hogwarts. Not only was Scorpius the complete opposite of his father, he was also a brilliant student. It reminded him of his good old friend, Hermione Granger.. only Scorpius Malfoy was much quieter and much shyer than Hermione had ever been.

It alarmed Neville when Scorpius's grades started to decline in the middle of his third year. Herbology had always been one of his top subjects; Scorpius had even talked with Neville about wanting to replace him once he retired. It made his heart swell that he could actually be a mentor or at least a positive influence to a Malfoy after everything. Scorpius got his kindness from his mother, that was for sure.

But it was then that Neville heard about Scorpius's mother. She died from complications regarding her blood curse; Scorpius was inconsolable even if he didn't show it. That meant that his grades started to flop, and his best friend Albus couldn't even pull him out of it.

That meant one thing, it was time for Neville to call in Scorpius's father for a parent-teacher conference.

Neville hadn't seen Draco in years, and he wanted to keep it that way. Neville spent most his time alone now anyway unless he was in a pub with Ron or out on a nature hike with Luna. He occasionally saw the Potters, but they were busy with their own lives and children. After his divorce from Hannah, he would be lying if he said he hadn't become sort of a hermit. Maybe it was the shame that his marriage didn't work out; maybe it was the fact that Neville kept it a secret that he was actually gay.

So he would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous as he wrote Draco Malfoy a letter in his lazy scrawl asking him to meet with him about Scorpius's class performance. He knew Malfoy's penmanship was perfect; it was just another thing he could knock him on after all these years. As the owl flew away, he took a deep breath and put his head on his desk. All he could do now was wait.

To Neville's surprise, Draco responded almost immediately to his owl. He did not have any snide comments in his note back, he just told Neville he would meet with him the next day after classes were over.

Neville fussed with his shirt collar as his first years left his class. He could see some of them eyeing him suspiciously while others were blissfully oblivious; he missed those days.

After his last student walked out of the greenhouse, Draco Malfoy sauntered in right on time. He looked impeccable, as always. His suit was neatly pressed, and his collar was perfectly angled in a way that Neville's would never be. He could feel the back of his neck heating up at the thought of his own imperfection.

"Longbottom," Malfoy greeted him. He didn't say anything more. His steely grey eyes just pierced through Neville's, and it made Neville have to swallow a ball in his throat.

"Malfoy," Neville finally responded. He motioned for Draco to sit down in front of his greenhouse desk.

Once they took their seats, Neville started to fiddle with his collar again. He had no idea how to start this conversation, so naturally, Draco did.

"I can see you are still quite the conversationalist like you were in school," Draco commented snidely, "I'm not sure what else I expected."

"Shove off, Malfoy." It was childish, and it was the first response that came out of his mouth. This made Draco smirk.

"I can still get under your skin too, I see. Why don't we just talk about my son? I have things I need to do."

It was then that Neville noticed the bags under Draco's eyes. He was exhausted, and it dawned on Neville the toll that losing his wife must have taken on him. Neville suddenly felt sorry for him.

"I'm-I'm sorry for wasting your time, and I'm sorry about Astoria," Neville fumbled, "She-she was incredibly sweet. I only met her once, but Scorpius is a lot like her-"

"And not like me?" Draco commented. He didn't seem offended, but Neville was embarrassed.

"That's not what I-"

"But it's the truth," Draco told him, "I'm forever thankful Scorpius only took after my appearance, and I appreciate your condolences. It has been.. hard.. losing my best friend."

"I can imagine."

"Was that how it felt when you lost Hannah? I mean, I know she didn't pass but-"

This comment stunned Draco. Of course everyone would know. The wizarding community was ultimately small, but he didn't think Draco would bring it up in a way that wasn't to mock him.

"It was," Neville told him, "But it was for the best. It just... was never going to work out."

"Why?" Draco pressed.

Draco had leaned forward in his seat with his hands in his lap. They were knotted together, but Neville noticed Draco's breath quicken in his chest. It was as though he could hear his heart beats, or maybe that was just his own.

"I-I.."

"You don't need to explain," Draco stopped him, "I.. I get it. Astoria and I had a particular.. understanding... so it worked."

"U-understanding?"

"Yeah," Draco told him, "She knew I was gay, but she was aromantic. She didn't care, she just wanted my companionship. She genuinely was my best friend."

The bluntness threw Neville off. He could feel his eyes widen, and he watched Draco's mouth turn up in a slight smile.

"I can tell by your look you really do understand, but I get the vibe that Hannah did care once she found out."

"I-"

But before Neville could even comment on what just happened, Draco changed the subject, "We should talk about Scorpius's performance. I just want to let you know that I am taking him to talk to someone. Astoria recommended it to me before she passed. I'm sure his grade will improve once some time has passed. If it doesn't, let me know."

All Neville could do was nod.

Draco got up from his seat then and didn't say another word. He just walked toward the exit of the greenhouse, but then he paused. It made Neville hold his breath.

When Draco turned around, Neville noticed that his cheeks were slightly pink. It was the only color Neville had ever seen in his old foes face.

"I-I was wondering, Longbottom, would you like to get a drink sometime.. or right now? If you have another guy you are seeing, I completely understand but-"

He was nervously rambling, and this made Neville smirk. He got up from his seat and approached Draco. They were now the same height like they never were in school. Neville watched as Draco's gaze flicked to his lips.

"I can see you aren't the conversationalist you used to be," Neville teased, "But I think I can handle a drink with you."

Neville wasn't sure where the confidence boost came, but Draco gave him a smile that was a challenge.

Game on.

#hprarepairnet #slytherdornet #mywriting #dreville #draco x neville #neville x draco #draco malfoy #neville longbottom #draco #neville #hp #hp ships #hp rare pair #rareplants #hp rare pairs #hpshipsnet #rarepotterpairs #hpedit #magicfolk

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inkrabbit · 4 years ago

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I haven't posted much, but I have been writing little snippets here and there when I'm not doing something else. So I decided to gather all the snippets I liked and put them together to show what I'm working on, and what I want to eventually work on. Most of these are stories I have planned for WD: Legion, but a couple are for my own personal works.

Unnamed Prison Love Story

Of course the other inmates had liked her. Most of them hadn't even seen a woman in years. But apparently she had more to offer them than just a pretty face to stare at. Everyone had said how nice she had been, talked softly and treated them with respect. She let them vent and talk about whatever they wanted, and she was a lot more lenient than any guard would ever dream of being. She would remove their cuffs and set it on the desk next to her chair, and she would sit only a few feet away. She pushed every boundary she could, and she took every chance with the inmates. She even argued with the guards who told her otherwise.

Sitting before her now, he finally understood the excited rumors he heard in passing. A calm and serene vibe had filled the warm room, and for a moment, he almost forgot he was trapped in prison and would soon be escorted back to his small, cold cell. She had kept a smile on her face, spoke softly and respected his boundaries when he didn't want to talk about a subject. She made him feel safe and acknowledged, encouraging him to talk about his day or how certain things made him feel. She made him feel like he was more than just another number in the system.

What's more, the woman was free. She didn't dress in the finest threads, opting for shirts that displayed band names he had almost forgotten, and her hair was never pulled back like it should've been. Another boundary she pushed; a test for him. To see if he would lunge at her like some of the others would try, use her hair to their advantage. But why would he? Sitting across from him, a notepad in hand, she didn't ignite anything violent inside him. If anything, she calmed down whatever fire stayed lit.

She became his breath of fresh air, and he found himself almost anxious for each session with her. The sweet scent of her perfume would always make his head spin as it filled the room. He had considered asking her once before in the beginning what it was, but the Devil on his shoulder had forced him to stay quiet. Back then, he had hated the woman and would refuse to talk, figuring she was just as bad as everyone else and that these little “therapy” sessions were just a way to find any weaknesses he had. But she never seemed exhausted or irritated by his silence. She gave him time, sat there with her soft smile and blank notepad and told him they would talk whenever he was ready. He never intended on giving in, but the one day he had gotten blood on his hands, he heard that change in tone.

The soft voice turned to concern, but she didn't throw accusations at him like he had expected. Oh no, she had actually asked him what the other inmate did to make him upset. The adrenaline that coursed through him had calmed down and he had finally opened his mouth. Not once did she interrupt him. She sat there and listened, scribbled down whatever she seemed important, and went back to listening. And when he was done, fists clenched and his body barely shaking at the rage that threatened to rise up, she finally moved. Slow and almost hesitant, testing the waters. He watched her carefully, how her rings shone in the bright sunlight that poured in through the windows, silver bands with various symbols. He let her approach him, and he let her take a seat on the old couch with her. Her touch was gentle and warm when she took his hand in her own, admiring his bruised and busted knuckles, flecks of dried blood decorating the skin that hadn't been properly washed.

“You did what you felt you had to,” she told him softly, “Maybe you overdid it. Maybe you should've stopped sooner. But you stood your ground for what you believed in. There's nothing wrong with that.”

It was the first time he had looked her in the eye, and he had immediately gotten lost within them. The feeling that quelled his rage had scared him, a certain type of vulnerability that made it seem like the woman could read his deepest and darkest thoughts. And yet, a part of that excited him.

WD: Legion – Dark AU – Love Path

“Daniel!” Sabine’s steps are hesitant as she walks forward, gun trained on the Irishman sitting on the edge with his back to her. He’s fiddling with something in his hand, a soft light illuminating his glove.

“Don’t suppose you found her on the way up?” he calls back, not even picking up his head.

“Who are you talking about?” He hadn’t mistook her for one of his members, had he? No, she was certain he recognized her voice. He had easily picked her out before.

She flinches when he starts to move, fist closing around the item in his hand as he slowly curls his legs back and lifts himself up. It’s the first time she’s seen him actually hunch over, and those once cold hazel eyes are alight with an emotion she’s not certain of. Still, there’s a slight smile that’s pulling at his lips, but it’s not the normal confident and smug grin she’s grown accustomed to.

“I always thought Dalton was a right idiot for liking you,” Dan laughs softly, “Didn’t understand what he felt until I experienced it meself...”

Dalton’s name leaves a bitter taste on her tongue, but she’s still focused on the man standing before her. The way he’s speaking isn’t normal, a distant tone in his voice instead of calm and velvety. Her eyes flicker over to his wrist, a silver bracelet glistening in the dull light that surrounded them. That was new. From what she knew, the only jewelry he wore were the piercings he had in his ears. He seems to perk up at this, extending his left arm and showing the bracelet off.

“She gave this to me. I’m guessing you didn’t hear?” She furrows her brows. Hear what? “Met a young woman that actually liked me. Made me feel... something. Enough to actually try and get help. I even stepped down as leader from DedSec. Let Jeremy take over.” This was news to her. From what she knew, Dan still led the group. Guess that wasn’t the case anymore. “She’s disappeared again. I thought Jeremy had something to do with it, but...” He opens his hand, tossing the item out. It was an optik, still glowing as it clattered to the ground. “I only found this when I got up here. I take it you didn’t see anyone on your way up?”

“No,” Her response draws a soft but sad chuckle from him. His step forward forces her to take one back.

“Well come on, then!” he calls out, raising his voice and straightening up, outstretching his arms to the side. She can tell he’s doing his damnedest to look normal, but that faulty smile on his face is throwing it off. It all looked wrong and out of place. She has gotten so used to doing the cocky and manipulative man. “Don’t think I wanna stick around if I can’t find her. Medicine and “fixing meself” don’t mean shite if I’m doing it for nothing.”

Something Stupid – 50's Love Story

“Did you want anything while I'm out?”

Of course he knew the answer, his second-in-command, Luciano, having been annoying him about pancakes all morning. But the look on the younger man's face was priceless, honey colored eyes widening as he stands from his crouched position. A bright smile spreads across his face as he wipes away the dirt on his hands, standing straight before his leader.

“You're finally gonna get me those pancakes?!” he squeals, “I just want those with extra syrup.”

“You're lucky I'm gettin' 'em at all,” Lighting up a cigarette, Kazimir turns his heels, headed for his car. “If that's all, I'll see you later. Gonna see if Nick is gonna cooperate this time and give us that protection money.”

“Good luck!” Starting up the engine, he waves goodbye to his friend and pulls away from the old compound, keeping the window rolled down as he takes a drag from his cigarette. There was a little diner the gang frequented that was a few minutes away. The food was average, and he hated how stubborn the owner was with the protection fee, but there was one waitress in that establishment that made it all worth while: Aurora Rossi, a beautiful Italian woman with the personality of a saint. She had treated the gang just like she would any other customer, and she indulged in the small conversations they had dragged her into here and there. He stayed quiet most of the time, knowing if he got too rowdy himself he would lose control of everyone, but he could never take his eyes off of the woman.

The parking lot is thankfully empty as he pulls in, parking in a spot closest to the door. He wouldn't be long; he knew the workers there hated him and his crew, always desperate to make them leave quickly. The little chime of the bell atop the door rings in his ears as he enters the diner, eyeing the staff. He can see them talking among themselves, scared eyes flickering back and forth between coworkers and himself. He was used to this treatment, especially in this little restaurant. No one ever wanted to help him, and if it weren't for the fact they all had a job to do, they probably would've went running.

Oh, but there's his little angel he had been dying to see, her red lips curled back in a genuine, friendly smile. He leans against the counter as she approaches, hands folded in front of her.

“Did you need to look at the menu, sir?” she asks. Her sweet voice makes his heart flutter, but he maintains his cool, shaking his head.

“Just a couple things to go,” He watches her dig out the notepad from the pocket of her apron, sliding the pen out of the metal spirals. A small smirk forms. “Nick also in today?”

“Not today, sorry. He should be back tomorrow though!” Ah, so the old man was hiding from him. Nothing new. They would come back day after day if they had to for that money. But for now, he loses himself in those green eyes, purring out his order and watching her hastily write it down. Pancakes with extra syrup, a ham and cheese omelet, some coffee to go; the list goes on and she stops him occasionally to ask for any sides, how he'd want the toast to be or how the eggs were supposed to be cooked. He knew the gang's order by now. There weren't many who hung around him and the compound they worked out of, but he preferred it this way. He had a group of members he considered close and actually cared about, and the rest ran the odd job for him when he couldn't be bothered.

Aurora rings him up and he makes sure to pull the twenty dollar bill out of his pocket, holding it between his index and middle finger as he hands it over. She looks hesitant, eyebrows raised as she inspects it, and Kazimir chuckles when she asks if he's sure.

“You deal with enough here, sweetheart,” he coos at her, “You deserve to be compensated.”

“Well, that's why I get paid,” Sweet as ever, but he finally coaxes her into taking the money, and she won't stop thanking him as she tucks it into the pocket of her apron. She gives him the estimated time it would take for the food to be ready as she disappears back into the kitchen, and Kazimir takes a seat on one of the stools at the front. He looks around the old diner, the light peach colored walls almost looking white in the afternoon sunlight, and the teal accents popping. Heaven's Diner was known for its bright but calming colors, and the staff were friendly to everyone except Kazimir's gang. Then again, he didn't blame them.

He listens to the soft music playing from the nearby radio, some blues band he didn't know the name of. It's calming, but not something he's used to. Maybe he had just gotten so used to the rock and roll that would play throughout the compound. Still, the music doesn't drown out the clanking of kitchenware in the back, and the occasional barking order from one of the chefs. He rests his elbows on the counter, lacing his fingers together and hooking his thumbs under his chin to keep his head up. Hazel eyes slip shut as he drinks in the ambiance. It was always nice when the diner was empty. He didn't have to deal with the judging looks, or the sour remarks thrown his way from some holier-than-thou old patron. The funny thing was, all of the staff workers would agree with the customers about how horrible he was. Aurora was the only one who never judged him, and had shown a hint of defense when anyone would bring up the gang.

“It's none of my business what they do. I just come here to work,” Those responses were the only time he had ever heard the woman lost her natural bubbly and friendly attitude, her tone turning firm as she would end the conversation there. Maybe that was why he liked her? She never judged them, and never shied away from taking their orders like the other waitstaff had many times before. In fact, Luciano had joked about how she was their personal waitress many times before. The group loved her personality just as much as he did, and they always made sure to leave a tip that went well over that old twenty percent rule. They normally left before they could see the look on her face, but Kazimir had caught her reaction through the window a couple times. A look of surprise that soon turned to excitement, and he cherished those memories.

When Aurora finally returns, she has little to-go boxes piled up on top of a tray with the drinks on the other side. She always was careful bringing everything out, and it's something he appreciates. He knew some of the waitresses would “accidentally” spill drinks on themselves in order to receive larger tips, but his little waitress would always take her time and set everything down gently. Maybe that was another thing he loved about her? Her dignity and pure attitude. He watches her pack them into a bag and slowly load up the drinks in a cup holder. She's slow, diligent, making sure nothing is lopsided and won't move. He can't stop the smile forming on his face as he watches her. A part of him hated how the woman affected him, wiping away that permanent scowl on his face and making his whole body feel lighter than normal. He takes the bag from her, his fingers brushing her as he hooks it around his arm before grabbing the cup holder. She stands before him just like every other time he would order his food to go: a sweet smile on her face, hands folded in front of her as she makes sure he has everything, occasionally smoothing out her apron if she felt a wrinkle in an odd spot.

“Have a good day, sir!” she calls out to him as he makes his way for the door, and he turns his head just enough to shoot a smile back at her. The bell chimes again as he opens the door and walks out, unlocking his car and sitting everything in the passenger seat, even going so far as to put the seat belt over his items so they don't fall on his way back. One last glance inside the diner, and he almost feels disappointed when he sees Aurora has disappeared. Well, he would be back tomorrow to talk to Nick anyway. Maybe he could find an excuse to get the woman's attention as well?

Unnamed WIP

By the time he pulls himself up and trudges to the bathroom, the stinging pain in his throat has faded. He looks at himself in the mirror, his neck and cheek bruised, and his eyes dark. He looks horrible, but he supposes it's not a surprise. What the Kelleys did to him – what the woman just did to him. There's no doubt his body is littered with bruises and cuts, but he can't bring himself to look again. It already caught him off guard when he had bathed in that freezing water. He didn't want to be reminded of the abuse.

The spacious bathroom in itself is cute, albeit bland. White tiles were devoid of any imperfections and dirt, and the bar of soap seated atop a colorful orange dish seems brand new. He leans against the counter, bringing his hands forward and admiring his wrists. They're still bleeding, drops of blood dripping into the sink and staining the once spotless white surface. Hesitantly, he reaches down to open the drawers, stopping once he sees a first aid kit placed in one of them. He's slow to bring it out, the ache in his wrists forcing him to move like a snail.

Everything's new when he opens it. Had the woman just bought these? He picks up the peroxide that was laying inside, tearing into the protective coating and unscrewing the cap. One more seal and it's open. Taking a deep breath, he grabs the bottle and splashes the contents onto to his left wrist, making him cry out. It stung as the cuts started to bubble, white foam covering his skin and dripping into the sink, mixing with the blood. His body is shaking, but he forces himself to douse his right next. It almost feels worse, and he has to hold onto the counter for support, his knees buckling underneath the pain. Deep breaths, anything to calm him down. He sets the peroxide on the counter, picking up the bandages next. He wraps it around his left wrist first, then the right. It stings, but in some odd way, he feels better. The bandages are soft against his skin, comforting and the only thing that feels secure.

He leans against the counter, lips pursed as he focuses on the blood and foam slowly rolling down the drain. He's lost as his body slowly stops shaking, mind blank and eyes stuck. He listens to everything going on around him. That soft hum of the light bulbs above, the beating of his heart, the sizzling in the drain as the excess peroxide runs down. Finally, he moves, turning his wrist to admire it. Blood easily shows up, a stark contrast against the white bandages, staining the area red. Why did any of this have to happen?

He glances to the side of the bathroom, a luxurious bathtub installed, the tiled walls surrounding it shining in the bathroom's light. It seemed so welcoming, the thought of a hot bath, but he can't bring himself to indulge in it. Not yet. He's too tired and too lost in his own thoughts about everything going on. So instead, he moves to the door, flicking off the light and crossing over the bedroom. The bed is soft as he lays down, trying his hardest to keep his weight off of his wrists as he lays on his side. Suppose this was his little home for now. He was scared to know what he was listed as. No doubt the woman would tell him soon enough.

WD: Legion – This Time, I'm staying – Beginning

“Arthur: the one that got away. What does that mean? The one that got away?”

“It's about losing someone you don't want to. Human stuff.”

“Am I… getting away?”

No matter how hard he had tried, that conversation replayed itself over and over, and try as he might, he couldn’t make it stop. It was like a busted record player, stuck in a loop and it was driving him crazy. The snippets he could remember before he was shut down, the thoughts of where he’d go and that fear he finally felt. It was all disgusting, to feel that weak and vulnerable. And yet… he craved more. To finally understand what the operatives felt – what they went through on a daily basis. He had heard them laugh and he had seen them smile. The fading fear in their eyes as they would return from being kidnapped, and the anger in their voices whenever they would pick fights. He wanted to finally understand.

It wasn’t exactly a request on his part, oh no. One of the operatives had caught his attention one day after they had figured out the truth, conjuring up all sorts of ideas. Make a body for Bagley, sort of like the androids and let him roam freely. At first, he had scoffed at the idea, hurling insults his way, but when the concept came up again, he gave it more thought. He was always sending out the operatives on missions, guiding them through everything. Sometimes they couldn’t even complete them properly, either being apprehended or landing themselves in the hospital. So with a bit less hostility, Bagley let the man continue.

Bradley was to be used as the base model. Same facial structure, eye color, body build – the works. Give him back the life he had lost, and the first thing that came to mind was Arthur. Perhaps, after he learned how to act more human, he could track the man down and see why he was so important to him in the first place.

WD: Legion – This Time, I'm Staying – Finding Arthur

“Down, boy,” He watches Dan reluctantly release the man and move back to stand by his side, though his pistol is still drawn. A soft sigh escapes Bagley's lips as he scans the Kelley's optik, just to be sure. Arthur Evans – Johnny Kelley's second-in-command.He knew he was right, but had hoped that he had made some sort of mistake somewhere. Still, he doesn't feel the connection he had hoped he would. Anything that would jar his memories and give him a hint of what he had with the man before Skye Larson had taken it all away from him.

“Who the fuck are you?!” The question is directed solely at Bagley, Arthur's blue eyes wide and looking horrified. Oh, the thoughts that must be going through his head right now.

“I'm Bagley!” he announces proudly, jabbing his elbow against Dan's rib when he hears a soft chuckle. He had a whole speech prepared before this, but looking at Arthur now... had he chosen the right words? He knew how complex human emotions were, and he knew how hostile the Kelleys were. And yet, the curiosity he saw in the man was enough for him to make his decision. “Dan, step outside, will you?”

“And let ya stay in here with this fucker?” he counters. Instead of replying, Bagley just shoos him away, and he's pleasantly surprised when the Irishman takes his leave. The moment the door closes, he steps forward, extending his hand.

“None of this is making sense,” Arthur whimpers out. It's not the tone, or even reaction, he was expecting. He seems dazed, confused, and almost scared. “Just who the hell are you?!”

“I told you. I'm Bagley,” He cocks his head. Had the man not heard him the first time? “I think you know me better as Bradley Lar-”

“Don't,” There's the hostility he was expecting, the hateful look as he grit his teeth. “You don't deserve to say his name!”

“Fine. Since you want to act as a child,” Bagley extends his arms to the side, showing himself off. Arthur is watching him carefully as he turns around, showing off his body and clothes. “I'm Bagley, DedSec's definitely-not-stolen, highly-advanced AI assistant! Do you know who created me? Skye Larson! And do you know whois my neural template?”

“Bradley Larson...” There's a moment where everything goes quiet and still. Before he can say anything else, Arthur is wrapping his arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace and burying his face in the crook of his neck. It startles him, the feeling of Arthur's breath tickling his neck. He awkwardly brings his hands up, resting them on his back and stroking like he had seen other operatives do when they were consoling someone. This was supposed to make humans feel better right?

“You bastard...” There's a wavering in his voice, something Bagley can't detect. He only realizes the man is close to crying when he pulls back, tears filling his eyes. “You left me, you know that? Planned the wedding and fucking left...”

“I didn't mean to,” he tells him softly, “Or rather, Bradley didn't mean to. I'm still trying to figure this out. I just-”

Arthur is pressing his lips against his, something Bagley easily recognizes as a kiss. This was meant to be a sign of affection, right? This was good, right? He's slow but he finally pushes back against the man, his hands traveling down to rest comfortably on his hips. He knows there's something he should be feeling right now; positive he should be feeling as desperate as Arthur is acting. There is something deep inside him that feels like it wants to awaken, but for some reason he can't make it come out.

WD: Legion – Even if I Die Tonight – Ending of Chapter 9

When the doors open, he follows her down the hall and in front of her flat, waiting patiently as she unlocks the door and flicks on the light. He nearly jumps when he sees Michael groggily sit up, eyes squinted as he looks at them. He finally smiles brightly after a few seconds, waving at Dan.

“Didn't think she'd be bringing you over!” he laughs out, “You guys couldn't have gone next door? It's late.”

Dan can feel his face heating up as he follows Rabbit to another room, the woman yelling at her friend to stay quiet. She tries to ease his nerves, telling him to not listen to him as she sits him down on the bed. The room smells exactly like her perfume and he can't help but look around, laying his jacket on the covers next to him. Just like the rest of the flat, there isn't much. A couple dressers and the bed he sat on, along with a bedside table that held a small, porcelain lamp. However, he can see the stack of books piled up across the room, though it's hard to make out the titles.

“You read?” he asks, catching her attention. She's over by the window, and he can hear things clanking around. Did she store items in a mug?

“Sometimes, when I can actually focus,” she responds. He's surprised to see a small pair of scissors in her hand as she walks back over. Just like last time, her touch is gentle as she cups his face, using her thumb to pull his lip ever so slightly. A soft warning and he hears that little snip as she cuts the thread. There's a little bit of pressure he almost doesn't even register, and once she's set the thread on the bedside table, she cut the remaining stitch.

“Do you read?” The question catches him off guard and he looks up at her. She's not smiling at him but her eyes... oh, he could easily get lost in them. There's a sort of serenity in there, overpowering other emotions he couldn't quite explain, but it drags him in and all he can do is nod. “What do you like?”

“History, mostly,” This seems to make her perk up, and he's pleasantly surprised to hear that was her favored subject. He can't help but smile, especially when she takes a seat next to him on the bed. Their conversation carries on about books, what subjects they prefer to read, and what they like overall. He's not surprised when they don't share many stories, but it's still interesting to listen to. She brings up being interested in psychology, but scoffs when he asks if she ever read any good books regarding the topic. “They're all a load of self-help bullshit.” He can only chuckle. He never really was interested in psychology himself, but she did make it sound interesting; knowing how the human mind worked, what made people tick. He supposed he saw the appeal.

He doesn't stay too long, guilt setting in that he's keeping the woman up so late. Grabbing his jacket and standing up, he follows Rabbit as she walks him out, and he can only laugh when she picks up a pillow to hit Michael when he makes another comment regarding the two. Still, they both wish him a goodnight as he exits the flat, and he can hear their muffled voices on the other side as he closes the door. He shakes his head, though he can't pull the smile from his face as he works on unlocking the door to his flat and slipping inside.

He brushes his fingers over his lip, an odd feeling of relief washing over him when he only feels skin and doesn't come in contact with that damned thread. With a small smile, he makes his way to his room, shedding his clothes and kicking off his boots. Hesitating for just a bit, he makes his way over to the dresser, pulling open one of the drawers and peering inside. He tries to bury the feeling of surprise that comes over him when he sees his gun is still tucked beneath some clothes, sitting right where he had left it.

Shutting the drawer, he moves over to his bed, crawling inside and underneath the blankets. He's not too tired; not enough to the point he'll fall asleep as soon as he head hits the pillow, but he also doesn't have enough energy to find something to pass the time. So instead, he settles on closing his eyes, letting his mind wander here and there. The new job, the hope of getting Bagley back, the newly taken out stitches, the smug look on Michael's face and the peaceful feeling Rabbit radiated. Before he knows it, he's fast asleep.

#snippets

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine:

Erik and Reader having a one night stand that WASN’T supposed to happen.

This shit wasn’t supposed to happen, but the weed was so right and the vibe was on 💯.

Think of it as Y/N’s time away from the depressing reality of her life.

She worked two jobs: one Monday through Friday from 9-5:30 and the other job on alternate weekends from 11-7pm. On top of that she had a boyfriend who worked just as much as her, never home and when he was home they were both too tired to have sex, settling for taking separate showers and laying in bed with a cup of noodles in their lap.

Outside of that stress, Y/N decided to go to a friend of hers kick back to relive the moments of her early twenties when the 11:59pm deadline for an assignment was her only stress. She missed the weed, disposable red cups, jungle juice, and vibe music. Here she was on a chilly October night dressed in a black silk mini dress with the back out, a black faux fur coat on and weed in her right hand. She tried starting the Bic lighter up but it was no use. She didn’t get one puff in before her shit went out.

Putting the blunt between her lips again, Y/N cupped her hand over the Bic, flicking it over and over to get a spark. Nothing. Like a ray of light descending upon her, a random guy who must have been good friends with her friend walks over, standing before her with his hands in his pockets.

“You need a light?

“...sure,” Y/N looked up just in time to spot one of the most attractive men she had ever seen in her life. He wore a leather moto jacket with multiple silver zippers, black ripped jeans and a red t shirt with multiple silver chains around his neck. Hair freshly dreaded and braided back, skin smooth and chocolate, eyes low from his own high and lips full and pink with a slight discoloring in the corners from smoking. He was sexy as fuck.

He flicks his Bic lighter, flame bright as he leans forward to spark her weed for her. Y/N took a few puffs before blowing out smoke with a contempt expression on her face.

“Thank you, what’s your name?”

“No problem, and It’s Erik. You?”

She reached out shaking his hand, “I’m Y/N”

“How you know Lisa?”

“Hm, since high school. We used to go to Fremont High.”

“Forreal? I had a few friends who went there.”

Erik got comfortable next to Y/N, leaning forward to pull his red cup towards him. Y/N shifted a little, facing him more.

“And how do you know Lisa, Erik?”

“Her man is my friend. Been knowing her for two years now.” He brought his cup to his lips, taking a huge sip. Y/N watched as he licked the liquor away, tongue disappearing again and dimples showing.

“How come I never saw you at parties?” Y/N flicks the ashes from her weed into an ashtray.

“Because I just got back home officially. I’ve been in the Military.”

Oh she could tell alright. His body looked as if it were carved from stone and she could tell even with his moto jacket still on. It was his neck too, it was thick and strong, shoulders all broad.

Stop it, Y/N.

She was just fuck-a-strated. She needed some dick that she hadn’t had for almost two weeks now.

“You alright?” He asked with genuine concern for her. Y/N met his gaze, staring for a few seconds before blinking away.

“I’m good, just tired. But I needed to get out.”

Erik hummed, the sound so deep and raspy it caused her knees to connect. That sound always drove her crazy. Erik didn’t need to make himself comfortable like this, it wasn’t helping situations. Her man was home right now probably laying in bed watching Netflix. If she didn’t leave tonight that’s probably where she would be right now. Nah, she was tired of that shit.

“What do you do for work if you don’t mind me asking,” Erik reaches for Y/N’s weed, handing it over with no hesitation.

“I work in Human Resources at a hospital during the week and on weekends I’m a receptionist for the same hospital.”

“You like doing that type of work?”

“It’s okay, it gets the bills paid.” Y/N grabs her cup of jungle juice to take a small sip.

“Does it get your hair and nails done too?”

Y/N’s brows raise, eyes looking down at her maroon colored claw nails.

“When I can, yes. I can’t stand walking around without my nails done,” she stroked her sleek low bun with baby hairs, “and my hair.”

Erik gave her a small laugh, Y/N’s eyes focused on the bounce of his solid chest.

“That’s the sexiest shit to me, a woman with her hair and nails done,” Erik took one more hit before passing it back to her, “Thats a weakness of mine.”

What else makes you weak? She wondered.

Y/N fell silent, looking out in front of her with a small movement of her hips to the music. She watched the other guests dance or play cards. Y/N really didn’t know how to respond to that. From her observation, Erik and her were the only ones occupying the couch while everyone else partied. She was beginning to think that he wanted to get to know her.

“You bored talking to me?” Erik asks with a serious look in his eyes but Y/N could tell that he was only messing with her.

“No, just chilling thats all.”

Erik smirked, biting his bottom lip before turning away to drink from his cup. Y/N’s stomach felt uneasy from all the nerves. She waited to see what he would say next but before she could, Lisa walks over, almost tripping on her long maxi dress.

“Girl why are you sitting over here?! Oh,” Lisa had a sly smirk on her face before side eyeing Y/N, “Hey, E! Welcome home!”

Lisa pulls Erik into a hug. Y/N smiles at the interaction, cup to her mouth and eyes staring straight ahead so she wouldn’t get a good look at his ass, the waist band to his boxers exposed. They were crimson red. She wanted to grab it.

“Y/N you wanna play never have I ever?” Lisa claps her hands in excitement, “remember high school? We used to play this all the time.”

Back then Y/N’s didn’t have anything to tell. She was only a teenager.

“Well, anyway, lets go play.”

Y/N agrees, slightly worried about how far this would go.

———————

20 minutes later:

“Never have I ever...had a threesome.”

To Y/N’s surprise, there were a good amount of people who put down a finger. She had three still up. This made Y/N feel left out. She looked around the table at everyone’s laughing faces before spotting Erik with a fresh cup in his hand, more faded than before and eyes glued to her. She looked away quickly, focusing on a drunk Lisa.

“Get yourself together bitch! How you gonna host a party pissy drunk?!” Y/N yells across the table.

“Whatever! Your turn!”

Y/N dreaded it being her turn but either way she interacted.

“Never have I ever...cheated on someone.”

It was simple. Nothing too sexual like most of the game had been. Half of the group put a finger down without shame, a small voice inside of Y/N’s head telling her to look over at Erik. Sure enough, as if expecting her to look at him, Erik and Y/N locked eyes from across the room, his thumb still proudly up.

Thank God, she thought. She couldn’t believe she felt relieved. But then again...her lusting over this man made her feel like the cheater. She might as well put her finger down.

“Yeah Y/N is an angel y’all!” Lisa teased.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with that, I like em sweet and pretty,” a random guy mentions from a corner.

“She’s taken, Jerome!” Lisa corrected. This time, Y/N didn’t meet Erik’s eyes.

Okay! Next person!”

A girl with short blonde hair seated on her mans lap started speaking.

“Never have I ever had sex at a party.”

Groans spread across the room, even a groan from Erik as he finally put his thumb down, taking a shot.

“Looks like Y/N won that round again!”

She wanted to shrink in her seat.

———————

The night went on, and Y/N was glad she decided to take an Uber over because she was too tipsy to maneuver a car. She had her faux fur coat off now, dancing to Megan Thee Stallion- Cash Shit. Drinks always made Y/N feel even sexier than she already was. She shook her hips, dipped low while popping her booty. Eyes were on her for sure and she knew that. When the song changed she went to the kitchen to retrieve another drink. While there she started fanning herself to cool off. She picked up the ladle, scooping the fresh batch of jungle juice into her cup. Footsteps approached causing Y/N to turn and spot Erik with his cup in hand, waiting for her to be done. His moto jacket was off now and she could make out his arms and tiny raised scars mixed with veins.

“You don’t wanna know what these are about, Baby girl. It would give you nightmares.”

Y/N stepped aside, allowing Erik to grab himself another drink. She watched, cup to her glossy lips.

“So, you do have a man?” He didn’t look at her when he asked, too focused on scooping some jungle juice into his cup.

“Yes. I do.”

“Hm,” he turns to face her, “and how is that?”

“It’s great.”

Y/N looked down into her cup, fiddling with the ring on her finger.

“He know you stepped out tonight dressed like that?”

Y/N couldn’t help that she looked the way she did.

“No.”

“If you were my girl, dressed like that, you wouldn’t be attending no fucking party unless I’m coming with you.”

She couldn’t deny that Erik saying that made her aroused.

“And what if I was your girl and I wore it anyway, leaving your ass in the house?”

Erik smiles broadly, the act alone causing her to blush tremendously.

“Then I would have to fix you.” He twirled his cup in hand, eyes low and predatory.

“Oh?” Y/N clears her throat. She didn’t think the heat would turn up in here that quick. What was she thinking flirting with Erik?

Sis, it’s just a little fun, the devil on her shoulder argues.

“You look nervous, you good?” Erik takes another step forward, stopping again.

“Nervous about what?”

“You tell me, Y/N with the tight dress and pretty face.”

The blush over her light brown skin was so deep she was sure Erik could tell. Y/N rubs her shoulder, too nervous to even look at him again.

“Should I step off?”

The moment he mentioned that, her conscience battled with her. This man wanted her. Y/N almost squeezed her cup from that alone.

“No.” Her words spilled out her mouth before she could even think. Erik bit his lower lip with a smirk.

“Okay then.” He fully invaded her personal space, his musk smelling divine. She could feel his heat mixed with hers and it turned her on heavily.

“What was that about not having sex at a party before?” He whispers in her ear. Y/N gasps, low enough for only Erik to hear and it made him chuckle.

“You want me to show you?” His finger stroked her neck, “I can be the first for that if you want me to.”

“Y-yes,” she confesses. Hearing herself say it felt so dirty.

“Aight, Baby girl,” Erik hovers over her a second more before palming her ass firmly, walking away and up the steps. Y/N let out a breath, hand to her chest. She needed another drink now before anything happens. Making herself another full cup, she self meditates to get her act together before leaving the kitchen, following Erik up the steps without anyone noticing. She walked further and further, heart drumming in her chest. Turning left she spotted Lisa’s guest room door ajar with the lamp light on. Shit...this really was about to happen.

———————

Y/N’s moans were stuck in her throat.

Besides the constant nervous tremor, her pussy quivered every single time Erik sucked or licked on her. The base from the music vibrated the walls, disguising her moans and cries. Erik made her look at him. He made her sit up on her elbows and watch. Her boyfriend never made her do that. He held her legs open, mouth all over her pussy.

Erik: Where you want me to eat?

Y/N: My clit, please.

Erik: *smiles darkly* I gotchu.

He surely did.

Y/N shook from Erik’s lips wrapping around her clit. She palms his head, holding him there while her thighs shook. She could feel her orgasm growing and the urge to squirt.

Y/N: OMG ERIK PLEASE.

with a final gasp of pleasure, Y/N came in his mouth.

Erik: Taste so fucking good girl.

She had to return the favor, Y/N got to her knees, instantly taking Erik’s dick into her mouth and sucking softly. Erik stroked her hair, guiding her with encouraging words and a smile. He was so big and he tasted good. Y/N sucked like she was tasting something exclusive.

Erik: Good girl, yeah, you that.

She enjoyed giving head. Especially to Erik. She didn’t have time in that moment to feel bad at all. His dick was in her mouth, that’s all that mattered.

Erik: Damn, Baby girl, hold up, *lifts her from her knees* I ain’t tryna cum yet.

Erik pulls out a condom from his wallet within his jeans, kicking his pants off further before ripping open the pack to put it on. Once secure, Erik locked eyes with Y/N, curling a single finger for her to come to him. Once there, Erik lifted her from the ground, wrapping her legs around him and placing her over his dick until he was buried to the hilt. Y/N’s moan was sharp and beautiful, hands cupping his face as he bounced her over him while walking to the bed. He stroked and walked. That alone made her want him more.

Y/N: Fuck, Baby. *bites lip*

Erik places her back onto the bed, pulling her legs over his shoulders, leaning forward to open her up more. He fucked into her with skill, skin smacking loudly. Y/N’s toes curled, arms around his neck and moans stuck in her throat.

Erik: Got some good pussy girl, *pounds* the nigga you with is a lucky motherfucker.

He held the back of her thighs, fucking slower but with a deeper thrust. The penetration was too much, Y/N’s thighs wanting to close. His grip was too strong.

Y/N: Jesus, Erik you’re gonna make me cum!

Before she could plead for him to slow down her sanity snapped, eyes wide and a loud cry of pleasure bouncing off the walls. She hoped no one heard that. Erik leans forward, taking Y/N’s sweet mouth, tasting her lips with his tongue.

Erik: mmm, I gotta buss that pussy open from the back now.

He slips out, flipping her over and arching her. Y/N waited for him to connect with her again, eyes closed and fingers gripping the sheets. Erik enters her again, hands in the middle of her back to keep her still.

Y/N: Ahhhh!!!!!! *squeezes eyes shut*

Erik: Yes, *slaps ass* tight fucking pussy, Y/N, *slaps ass again* you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck this tight pussy?

Y/N: *nods head rapidly*

Erik: You ain’t gotta speak, Baby girl, *thrusts forward* go ahead and lay there while I take it.

He took her and it was everything she needed. Y/N came so much from back shots alone she couldn’t believe it happened. Her pussy soaked for this man. It was so damn good she couldn’t even dress herself. It was going on 2:30 am and the party was still rolling. Erik has to dress her himself but that turned into him eating her pussy again while she pushed at his head. He was the devil.

Y/N went down the steps first, sitting on the couch. She looked off into space, the entire sex scene playing in her head like a movie. Out of nowhere, she began to laugh. It was crazy that she even did that. Y/N never imagined having a one night stand with another man. Erik slowly descended the stairs, adjust the collar to his red shirt before locking eyes with her. He smiled faintly, giving her a wink before walking away. She was happy he did that, she needed to cool herself down. Y/N took Erik’s number but she didn’t want to use it. Stroking her temples, she thought about her boyfriend, checking her phone to find two missed calls and a text. He was worried, and it pained her. While she was getting her cheeks clapped he was thinking about her and when she would be back.

After the good feeling came a bad feeling. Y/N wanted out of the party, she needed fresh air. Grabbing her things, she found Lisa, saying her final goodbyes before doing the same for everyone else. Erik wasn’t in sight which was perfect, she didn’t need to see him before she decided to leave. The sex was beyond great but it could never happen again. If it did, Y/N really wouldn’t be able to forgive herself.

#killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #erik killmonger

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perfecttimeseleven · 4 years ago

Link

Perfect Times Eleven Ep. 2 TRANSCRIPT

ACT ONE

SCENE THREE

(REMINGTON’s writing something down on a sheet of paper. She puts her pen down and lifts it up.)

REMINGTON

(putting her pencil down)

There. I think that’s it.

(DR. MORELLO takes the sheet of paper.)

DR. MORELLO

Oh, yes. These look good. Harvest, Ocean, Create, Change, Fight, Art, Family, Freedom...Joyce? Do you mean, like, the given name Joyce?

REMINGTON

Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s Joyce.

DR. MORELLO

Not “choice” or “joy” or something?

JAY

Boyce? Like the actor in Jessie? RIP.

DAISY

(loudly, from another room)

What about, like, “guys” but in a really weird accent? Like, goiys?

REMINGTON

Nope. Uh, Joyce.

JAY

Hey, uh...

DR. MORELLO

What?

JAY

Nah, it’s probably unrelated.

DR. MORELLO

Um. Well, it’s a good leaping off point. Joyce, or whatever the word actually is, can be the first word you concentrate on.

REMINGTON

The word is Joyce.

DR. MORELLO

Jay here can lead you through how to do it.

REMINGTON/JAY

What?

JAY

Hey, you know I’ve been having some trouble with my head people...

DR. MORELLO

Which is exactly why you could use the practice.

REMINGTON

Jay? W-We’re paying good money — I assume — for you. The doctor. Not the random kid.

DR. MORELLO

She works as an, uh, unpaid intern. Remington, this is a seven-day retreat. Did you really think I, personally, would have the strength to lead you in everything twenty four-seven? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go check on Daisy and take my medications.

REMINGTON

Oh! Okay, yeah, that’s...that’s kinda important.

(DR. MORELLO gets up and exits.)

JAY

Why the…pastels…on the shirt?

REMINGTON

For fuck’s sake, I can’t believe you’re nagging on my outfit when your friend Daisy is dressed like a goddamn tie-dye Fruit Rollup.

DAISY

(loudly, from another room)

It’s gay wrath month, dipshit.

JAY

Okay, man, I don’t wanna be here and you don’t either. So let’s just get this over with.

REMINGTON

Or we could take a break.

JAY

A break? From learning vital information about literal voices in your head?

REMINGTON

C’mon, lighten up a little! I’m spending the week here, so let’s, ah,

(leans in, makes a clicking noise with her mouth)

get to know each other.

JAY

What?

REMINGTON

Like, okay. Hmm...

(trying to think of an icebreaker)

when did you first become Dr. Morello’s patient or unpaid intern or whatever?

JAY

Uh, after my mom died in a fire that burned down our house.

(Beat.)

REMINGTON

Oh. Oh, shit. Um. Sorry.

JAY

Don’t be. You didn’t kill her.

(Beat.)

JAY

Dr. Morello’s been taking care of me since.

REMINGTON

That’s nice of him.

(Beat.)

Nice shirt.

JAY

Oh! You…you’ve seen Daisies?

REMINGTON

Ha! No. What do you take me for, an intellectual? The shirt makes you look angsty and hot. I mean, the movie I don’t give a shit about.

JAY

Oh, well, blame me for thinking complimenting a shirt that’s got nothing but a film still on it means you’ve seen the fucking film.

REMINGTON

I didn’t say nice screenshot, dumbass, I said nice shirt.

(Beat.)

JAY

You’re a little shit, you know that?

REMINGTON

Yes. As a matter of fact, I do.

(4. No Room.)

REMINGTON

WHY DO I LIKE GIRLS WAY OUT OF MY LEAGUE?

WITH…MOODY VIBES AND SLICKED BACK HAIR?

WHY DO I LIKE GIRLS WHO LOOK LIKE 80S FEMME FATALES?

GIRLS WITH CHIPPED BLACK NAIL POLISH AND A SCINTILLATING GLARE?

WHY DO I LIKE GIRLS WHO COULD BEAT ME UP?

AND, BY THE WAY SHE’S LOOKING AT ME, PROBABLY WOULD?

WHY DO I LIKE GIRLS WHO COULD FORGET ME IN A WEEK

AND, KNOWING MYSELF, PROBABLY SHOULD?

RELATIONSHIPS ARE SHIT. LOVE IS A HOAX.

LOVE WILL BETRAY YOU AND LEAVE YOU OUT TO DRY.

ONLY THREE PEOPLE ACCOMPANY ME FROM BIRTH UNTIL DEATH:

ME, MYSELF, AND I!

AND, WELL, THE PEOPLE IN MY HEAD.

CALL ME SELFISH! WELL, IT’S TRUE.

GOT NO ROOM IN MY HEAD FOR YOU.

JAY

WHY DO I LIKE GIRLS WHO THINK THEY’RE THE SHIT?

WHO FLIRT WITH EVERYONE THEY SEE?

WHY DO I LIKE GIRLS I ALSO WANNA PUNCH IN THE FACE

THE MOMENT THEY GET A BIT CLOSE TO ME?

WHY DO I LIKE GIRLS WHO BEHAVE

LIKE A 2000S HIGH SCHOOL SITCOM TROPE?

WHY DO I LIKE GIRLS WHO ARE DUMB AND SHALLOW?

GIRLS WHO LACK ALL COMMON SENSE BUT STILL HAVE HOPE?

FEELINGS ARE SHIT. LOVE IS A HOAX.

LOVE WILL KICK YOU IN THE SHINS, SPIT IN YOUR EYE!

ONLY THREE PEOPLE ACCOMPANY ME FROM BIRTH UNTIL DEATH:

REMINGTON/JAY

ME, MYSELF AND I!

…AND THE PEOPLE IN MY HEAD.

CALL ME SELFISH! WELL, IT’S TRUE.

GOT NO ROOM IN MY HEAD FOR YOU.

SOME PEOPLE FIND ONE PERSON THEY GIVE HOURS OF THEIR LIFE TO.

ONE PERSON WITH WHOM THEY SHARE A BIT OF THEIR PRIME.

ONE PERSON TO CARE ABOUT MORE THAN THEMSELVES.

ONE PERSON WHO COULD BREAK THEIR HEART AT ANY TIME!

WHAT’S WORSE? MARRIAGE! GOD, THE LEVEL OF TRUST!

THE LEVEL OF ATTRACTION THAT EXCEEDS SIMPLE LUST!

ONE PERSON TO EXCHANGE VOWS WITH, ONE PERSON TO TIE YOU DOWN,

JAY

ONE PERSON YOU TRY TO CONVINCE YOURSELF WILL ALWAYS BE AROUND!

REMINGTON/JAY

IF ANYONE WERE TO

JAY

KILL YOU, LIE TO YOU,

REMINGTON

MOCK YOU, MAKE YOU FROWN,

REMINGTON/JAY

USE YOU, ABUSE YOU,

JAY

OR, ‘CAUSE OF A MESSED-UP KID, SKIP TOWN,

REMINGTON/JAY

DON’T YOU THINK IT’D BE THE PERSON YOU LET YOUR GUARD DOWN FOR?

LOVE’S THE BIGGEST LIE SOCIETY FEEDS US.

AND IF ANYONE COULD GET THAT, I FEEL LIKE SHE MIGHT

SHE KNOWS ONLY THREE PEOPLE ACCOMPANY YOU FROM BIRTH UNTIL DEATH:

ME, MYSELF, AND I!

REMINGTON/JAY

GOT NO ROOM IN MY HEAD FOR YOU.

GUESS THAT’S WHY I LIKE GIRLS WHO DON’T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING.

‘CAUSE I KNOW THEY WON’T CARE ABOUT ME.

EVEN IF THEY’RE ASSHOLES, THEY WON’T RUIN MY LIFE.

JUST FLIT IN AND OUT OF IT WITHOUT APOLOGY.

ACT ONE

SCENE FOUR

(There are sounds of DAISY moving around in a kitchen, baking cookies. DR. MORELLO enters.)

DAISY

Oh, hey!

DR. MORELLO

Oh, that looks pristine.

DAISY

(endearingly at freshly baked tray of cookies)

Ohh, she is.

(looks up at DR. MORELLO)

Escaped the masses?

DR. MORELLO

(tired)

Tell me why is it I have to put up with teenage girls for hours on end again? No offense to you. You’re the most bearable of the three.

DAISY

It’s your job.

DR. MORELLO

Ah.

(DAISY puts on oven mitts and heads over to the oven, before opening the oven and taking out another tray of perfect, round, golden-brown sugar cookies.)

DR. MORELLO

Oh, that smells phenomenal!

DAISY

(taking the tray to the counter)

Look at us. Aren’t we little housewives. Making some cookies for them as they probably are making out outside.

DR. MORELLO

“Making out”? Oh, Daisy, get your mind out of the gutter.

DAISY

(getting plates) Better get used to the thought. It’s gonna be reality sooner or later if it hasn’t happened already and you know it.

(DR. MORELLO pauses and sighs.)

DR. MORELLO

I do hope you’re wrong. I don’t like the looks of that girl. Jay acts all tough, but she’s already been through so much...

(pauses)

Are you all right, by the way? I know none of us expected this, but —

DAISY

I’m fine.

(sets a plate in front of DR. MORELLO)

Really. Hey, do you want to try one of these? I upped the amount of vanilla extract, so...don’t hesitate to tell me if I’ve committed an atrocity against mankind.

(DR. MORELLO takes a bite.)

DR. MORELLO

Oh, no, delicious as ever! Keep up the good work. I’ll go ahead and order pizza for dinner — cheese is safe?

DAISY

Cheese is safe.

(louder)

Hey, Remy Ratatouille, do you like cheese?

REMINGTON

(loudly, from another room)

Of course I do! What kind of depraved life do you assume I lead?

(DAISY shrugs at DR. MORELLO, who nods.)

DR. MORELLO

Cheese is safe.

(DR. MORELLO exits. 5. Sugar Cookies.)

DAISY

SUGAR COOKIES!

EDIBLE GLITTER ON TOP.

BOUGHT IN A COLOR CALLED “HOLOGRAPHIC SKY.”

GOT THE LAST JAR OF IT STILL LEFT IN THE SHOP;

GRABBED IT RIGHT BEFORE A REAL TOUGH-LOOKING GUY.

BEING HOMESCHOOLED IN A WAY,

I’VE FOUND ACTIVITIES TO WASTE MY DAY,

MY FAVORITE OF WHICH, I HAVE TO SAY,

IS MAKING SUGAR COOKIES!

(starting to spread the frosting onto the cookies)

SUGAR COOKIES!

THEY’RE GLUTEN FREE!

HAVEN’T MADE SUCH A BIG BATCH IN A WHILE.

WELL, IT’S A LITTLE EXTRA. Y’KNOW, FOR THE NEW KID

IN THE WEIRD SUIT, WITH THE WEIRD SMILE

WHO’S EXACTLY JAY’S CUP OF TEA.

GOD, WHEN WILL SOMEONE MY TYPE SHOW UP FOR ME?

SOMEONE TO IMPRESS WITH MY ONLY SKILL IN LIFE:

MAKING SUGAR COOKIES.

AND I’LL TRY TO KEEP IT OUT OF MY MIND THAT SHE’S AN ELEVEN.

BREATHE IN THE SMELL OF GRANULATED SUGAR INSTEAD!

IF I MEASURE THIS RIGHT, THEY’LL TASTE LIKE HEAVEN!

THE FROSTING’S GOTTA BE

AT THE RIGHT CONSISTENCY.

LET’S SEE HOW MANY I STILL NEED TO FROST!

(counting)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10...11. God!

AND I’LL TRY NOT TO THINK OF WHAT THAT NUMBER IMPLIES.

SPREAD SOME GLITTER. “HOLOGRAPHIC”! GREAT, YES, JUST A PINCH.

STOP THINKING THIS GIRL’S DOOMED TO AN INEVITABLE DEMISE?

PUT THEM ON A PLATE ALL PRETTY — GOD, I’M FEELING SHITTY!

SUGAR COOKIES!

I CAN MAKE ‘EM WHOLE-GRAIN!

TRY TO MAKE SURE I’M NOT GOING INSANE!

SUGAR COOKIES ALL FOR THE GUEST —

HOPE YOU STAY ALIVE LONGER THAN THE REST!

STAY OUT OF SIGHT, DON’T MEDDLE, YEAH, THAT’S WHAT I’D SUGGEST!

AND OH...TAKE A SUGAR COOKIE.

#transcript #perfect times eleven #px11 #ep 2 #daisy noxx #rupert morello #jay mazziotta #Remington long

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feisty-fae · 4 years ago

Note

If you still do the flower ask thingys.. 👉👈 𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙜𝙤 :)

HoooH boY hEre we gO-

Alisons: Sexuality?

I sexually identify as a can of beans

Amaranth: Pronouns/Gender?

Cis female she/her

Amaryllis: Birthday?

27 September

Anemone: Favorite flower?

All flowers pretty,, but stargazer lily, rose, dahlia and cherry blossoms

Angelonia: Favorite t.v. show?

I don't watch tv but I'll list some other stuff i like to watch:mha, beastars and aggretsuko

Arum-Lily: What’s the farthest you’d go for a stranger?

Idk depends on scenario??

Aster: What’s one of your favorite quotes?

"Kanye West he likes, fingers in his ass."

Aubrieta: Favorite drink?

Any Milkshakes or smoothies (mostly banana and strawberry for milkshake and p much anything for smoothie)

Baby’s Breath: Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

I've never had kith

Balsam Fir: Have you ever been in love?

Well you see yes but actually no

Baneberries: Favorite song?

I listen to a lot but to keep it short:baby in the kitchen, in my mouth and friends slowed (chase atlantic)

Basket of Gold: Describe your family.

We p chill fam

Beebalm: Do you have a best friend? Who is it?

Irl bestie,, shes not on tumblr lol

Begonia: Favorite color?

PinKKK

But i like most colours

Bellflower: Favorite animal?

Cats,,,,

FoxES,

ANYTHING CUDDLY AND CUTE

Bergenia: Are you a morning or night person?

Night

Black-Eyed Susan: If you could be any animal for a day, what would it be?

I'd be like a doggo bc it would be the most fun i think-

Bloodroots: When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?

I wanted to be a vet but then when my granny asked me "but whos gonna clean up the animal poop?" I was like "eWW pO0pP!" and then decided that mayb i shouldn't be a vet

Bluemink: What are your thoughts on children?

They're either really kind and sweet

Or literal demons from hell

Legit no inbetween

Blazing Stars: What are you afraid of? Is there a reason why?

I'm afraid of lot of things-

Borage: Give a random fact about your childhood.

I was one dumbass bitcg-

Bugleherb: How would you spend your last day on Earth?

Idk eat pizza and cry or smth ajakamkw

Buttercup: Relationship Status?

Single

Camelia: If you could visit anywhere, where would you want to go?

NEW YORKKK, CONCRETE JUNGLE WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE OFFF THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN'T DO NOW YOU'RE IN NEW YOOORKKK

Candytufts: When do you feel most loved?

When someone hugs me or just generally spends time with me

Canna: Do you have any tattoos?

Nop

Canterbury Bells: Do you have any piercings?

I used to have piercings when i was a bab but eHh haven't worn them since and i dont think my ear holes are big enough now-

California Poppy: Height?

4'10 grrr I'm the omega midget and I'll devour ur ankles

Cardinal Flower: Do you believe in ghosts?

Nop

Carnation: What are you currently wearing?

Pant, pink top and black hoodie

Catnip: Have you ever slept with a nightlight?

I think i have??

Chives: Who was the last person you hugged?

My mom and my dad

Chrysanthemum: Who’s the last person you kissed?

I never kith

Cock’s Comb: Favorite font?

I dont have one so imma say sans bc it always looks out of place and makes me laugh-

Columbine: Are you tired?

I feel like screaming and jumping around my room like a crackhead

Common Boneset: What are you looking forward to?

Nothing in particular ig

Coneflower: Dream job?

Smth kinda fun and art or design related hopefully,,,,

Crane’s-Bill: Introvert or extrovert?

Introvert but i also get lonley easily

Crocus: Have you ever been in love?

Nop,,,,

Crown Imperial: What’s the farthest you would go for someone you care about?

I would get run over by 5 monster trucks, jump off a plane, get mauled by 10 bears, get trampled on by a stampede, get brutally tortured for 12 hours straight, yeet myself into the Grand Canyon and then break all my bones with my bare hands if they weren't broken already

Ok basically i care a lot

Cyclamen: Did you have a favorite stuffed animal as a child? What was it?

I had this st bernard plush called Sparky and this lion named Sammy,,

Daffodil: What’s your zodiac sign?

Libra

Dahlia: Have you done anything worth remembering?

My memory is legit so bad it's probably concerning uHHH

Daisy: What do you feel is your greatest accomplishment?

Mayb art??

Daylily: What would you do if your parents didn’t like your partner(s)?

Ehhh i might reason with them and then if they still disagreed I'd just keep the relationship a secret

Dendrobium: Who is the last person that you said “I love you” to?

My parents

False Goat’s Beard: What is something you are good at?

Ehhh arT

Foxgloves: What’s something you’re bad at?

EhhHh everything that isn't art-

Freesia: What are three good things that have happened in the past month?

Oh boy here comes my shitty memory-

Hmmm

Idk but I'm mostly happy that I've been more social and stuff and i feel like im kinda coming out of my shell a bit

Not sure what to say for other 2 bc nothing in particular has really happend?

Garden Cosmos: How was your day today?

Ehhh oK??

Gardenia: Are you happy with where you’re at in your life?

Mayhapsn't

Gladiolus: What is something you hope to do in the next year or two?

I hope to pass all my exams and get an okish job mayb

Glory-of-the-Snow: What are ten things that make you happy/you’re grateful to have in your life?

1.fRIENBS ILY MY HABIBIS

2. Fammm

3. eHhh yummy food,,

4. Drawing and uhhh art

5. EPIC MUTUALS

6. Ok idk what else aside from like serious stuff like house and etc.-

Heliotropium: What helps you calm down when you feel stressed?

Drawing, crying, venting to a friend/parent

Hellebore: How do you show affection?

Hugssss,kith,cuddle, *draws u stuff*

Hoary Stock: What are you proudest of?

MmmmmMy aRRt?

Hollyhock: Describe your ideal day.

Wake up

Don't go to school

Vibe with friends

Sleeb

Hyacinth: What do you like to do in your free time?

MmMmMM aRT-

Hydrangea: How long have you known your best friend? How did you meet them?

Ehh 8yrs? We met in hell school

Irises: Who can you talk to about (almost) everything?

Friendos

Mom

Laceleaf: How many friends do you have?

6..?? Aa idk theres some people that idk if they'd consider me a friend or not,,

Lantanas: What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received?

Idk any compliment is best compliment for me,,

Larkspur: What do you think of yourself?

Ew yucky gröss

Lavender: What’s your favorite thing about yourself?

m y a r t

Also my hair bc its soft and wavy,,

Leather Flower: What’s your least favorite thing about yourself?

Everything else-

Lilac: What’s something you liked to do as a child?

Climb trees and do dumb shit

Lily: Who was your best friend when you were a kid?

Same irl bestie i mentioned before

Lily of the Incas: What is something you still feel guilty for?

MmmmmmMMM,,,

Lily of the Nile: What is something you feel guilty for that you shouldn’t feel guilty about?

MMMmMMmMMMMmmmMMm,,,,,,

Lupine: What does your name mean? Why is that your name?

Well I chose Fae bc i thought it sounded pretty

Marigold: Where did you grow up? Tell us about it.

Idk what to rlly say lmao

Morning Glory: What was your bedroom like growing up?

Kinda the same but i had toys everywhere-

Also when i was like 5 i had this legit fucking cursed thomas the tank engine shaped bed that i actually found a pic of but it's FUCKING HORRIFYING SO I PROBS WONT SHOW HERE-

Mugworts: What was it like for you as a teenager? Did you enjoy your teenage years?

EW BEING A TEENAGER SUCKS ASS HOW DO I UNDO????

Norwegian Angelica: Tell us about your mom.

Hi mom ily ur epic

Onions: Tell about your dad.

Hi dad ily ur epic

Orchid: Tell about your grandparents.

Omg i miss my grannies sm bc i couldn't see em this year bc nasty pandemic

Pansy: What was your most memorable birthday? What made it be so memorable?

Haha shit memory gor brrRR-

I don't really remember too many specific parties but when i was like 7-10 i had these epic parties in those birthday places with the giant play areas

I kinda wish i wasn't too old to go to them sobs

Peony: What was your first job?

I haven't had a job yet

Petunia: If you’re in a relationship, how did you meet your partner(s)? If you’re not in a relationship, how did you meet your crush/how do you hope to meet your future partner(s), if you want any?

Hmmmm idk? I haven't really thought abt that but i don't really mind i just wanna find someone to vibe with,,

Pincushion: How do you deal with pain?

I cri

Pink: Where is home?

Home is home home

Plantain Lilies: If you could go back in time, what is one thing you would stop/change?

Now where do i start...

Prairie Gentian: Who is someone you look up to? Describe them.

I look up to people that are kind, caring, brave, funny, cool or stronger than me ig?

Primrose: Describe your ideal life.

Basically my current life minus school, stress,pandemic and responsibilities lmao

Rhodendron: What is something you used to believe in as a child?

I used to believe in ghosts after i thought i encountered one

Ricinus: Who’s the most important in your life?

Hermmmst

Rose: What’s your favorite sound?

Peoples laughsss also music

Rosemallows: What’s your favorite memory?

Bro i dont have one,, my aphantasia makes it hard for me to remember stuff-

Sage: What’s your least favorite memory?

Snapdragon: At this moment, what do you want?

I wantttt better chargersss thattt donttt telll meee thatt myyy tablett will finishh chargingg innn 1 dayy andd 7 hoursss

St. John’s Wort: Is it easy or difficult for you to express how you feel about things?

Kinda difficult but im opening up more

Sunflower: What is something you don’t want to imagine life without?

fRIENDS,,,,,wAh

Sweet Pea: How much sleep did you get last night?

8 hrs

Tickseed: What’s your main reason to get up every morning?

Idk ig i kinda have to go to school and do stuff

Touch-Me-Not: How do you feel about your current job?

Non existant

Transvaal Daisy: What’s your favorite item of clothing?

My black and white stripy top, and all my hoodiess

Tropical White Morning Glory: Describe your aesthetic.

I don't think i have just one aesthetic bc im drawn to so many different aesthetics at the same time-

Like vintage, neon, dark, spoopy, pastel, cute, etc etc

Tulip: What would be the best present to get you?

OMG I LEGIT JUST SCREAM AT ANYTHING ANYONE GIVES ME-

IF SOMEONE GOES OUT OF THEIR WAY TO MAKE ME SMTH I CRY,,

Vervain: What’s stressing you out most right now?

🤏

Wisteria: How many books have you read in the past few months? What were they called?

I haven't been reading anythinggg

But i should really finish reading Percy Jackson bc it do be picking up dust-

Wolf’s Bane: Where do you want to be in life this time next year?

Everywhere

Yarrow: Do you know what vore is?

Mmm yummy 👅

Zinnia: Give a random fact about yourself.

I am currently living and breathing yes

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