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yandere-mha-blog · 4 years ago

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Chapter 1: Boredom

Words: 2130

Boredom, Sure most people hated the feeling of fear the worst, or some people even hated the feeling of love. But you hated the feeling of boredom, so why you chose to take this excruciating lackluster lecture for your class was beyond you. You were tapping your nails against the desk scribbling down a few notes here and there, stuff you already knew. Why this college made you take classes that were so painfully basic was beyond your understanding, oh wait a second, money that's why.

“Hey (Name)?” your seatmate said to you

“Hmm?” you said

“Can I please see your notes? You always know the right stuff to write down,” she said

“Sure,” you said pushing your notes over a bit so she could get a better look at them

“Thank you.” She said, you nodded your head and kept listening to the drone of a lecture. Once it was finally done and over with you packed up your bags and were going to head to the courtyard.

“Man, that was boring. I don't know how you pay attention to this so well.” Your seatmate said

“I can’t really.” you said putting away your pencil case “Hope the notes help.”

“They will, hey you want to eat lunch together?” She asked

“Sorry but I like to eat alone,” you said

“Ohhh, okay we'll see you in class tomorrow (name).” she said and left, you followed suit and went to the vending machine, got a quick snack, and headed back to your dorm, the next class was in an hour and might as well relax a bit for the time being. You pulled out your phone to read the latest news.

Villain dubbed the Name NightHawk strikes again, police are looking for any leads.

“This guy again huh, he must be stalking this area.” you thought “Wonder how long he is planning to stay around this boring area.”

After looking at one too many cat videos you headed off to your next class, Mutation quirk and medication. With the wide range of quirks, there were many issues that could harm the quality of life. Studying to become a doctor sure did take a lot of work, even more work now that humans could have any range of growths, bumps, dry spots. Could that be a part of their quirk or is it a tumor that needs to be removed? This was one of the classes that interested you, the hands-on approach, if you didn't have a strong stomach you shouldn't take this class, takes you back to high school when you had to dissect a frog, then a squid, and who could forget the pig fetus. The teachers were not too thrilled that you used your quirk to open up the animals though and sent you to the counselor afterward.

Oh well

Drawing down the diagrams, your seatmate who you seem to have a lot of classes with looked over

“Man you are really good at drawing, can I take a photo?” she asked

“Sure,” you said

“You are a woman of few words huh.” she said, “but you are really nice (name).” “Thanks,” you said, trying to pay attention to the lecture, she must have gotten the hint and went back to her note-taking. Still with this being the last class of the day you were finally ready to take a nice hot bath and relax.

“So (name).” she said, “I was wondering if you want to come with me and a couple of friends tonight, we are getting some drinks.”

“Hm I don't know, I don't like getting drunk on a school night,” you said

“You have classes tomorrow?” She asked, sounding let down by that news, well not like you had anything else to do and maybe a couple of drinks with some people would curb your boredom a bit.

“Oh wait, today is Friday, I have tomorrow off.” you said “I don’t like to stay out too late, I'll still go just won't be there the whole time.”

“That's fine, I've been wanting to hang out with you, I'll pay as thanks for helping me with the notes.”

“Sounds good, which palace are we meeting up at?” you asked

“Oh, it's called cherry steam.” She said, “You know I just realized I never told you my name, it's Fumiko. Also, we are meeting there at six so in two hours

“Okay I'll meet you there,” you said and left, it had been a while since you went out so finally an excuse to wear that new dress you bought months ago, you didn’t get invited out often because most of your classmates thought of you as aloof so this was a nice treat.

So when you arrived outside Cherry Steam and it only hit you then that this was a mixer, and they were short a girl for this group of five men, just great. You sat at the end sipping away at your, you lost count, fruity drink as the guy across from you tried to make conversation.

“So uhm what are you in school for?” he asked

“Doctor, what about you?” you asked taking another sip

“Business major,” he said

“Is that so,” you said swirling the drink around your glass, god could this be any more painful, this guy was incredibly duel.

“So what's your quirk, not to brag but mine is really cool.” he said “I'm able to see behind my head with a third eye.”

“Huh that's neat, guess it must be hard for people to get the drop on you.” you said “My quirk has a habit to scare people off, so not sure if you can handle it.”

“OH come on you can show me,” he said, finally something interesting, so you held out your hand

“You sure you wanna know.” you teased

“Well now I can’t, not see it,” he said, as you flexed your fingers and your five-inch talons came shooting out of your nail beds, he jolted back. “Holy…”

“Told you.” you said taking another sip, this got the attention of the others “I'm able to flex my fingers and these talons come out.”

“Wow you could become a hero with those.” the other guy said as they looked over “can I touch them.”

“Only if you want to get cut,” you said putting your talons back in under your nail beds.

“Does it hurt when they pop out like that?” another guy asked

“Not really.'' You said, as you continued to have the conversation with these guys, you didn't notice the other girls getting a little pissed off by the lack of attention they were getting. Till Fumiko tapped your shoulder

“Hey, I need to go to the restroom. Can you come with me?” she asked

“Sure, I don't mind,” you said getting up and walking out of the booth and following her, only for her to stop outside

“(name) I'm glad you are having fun but the other girls came here as well, can you dial it down a bit?” she asked, you were now confused

“Dial what down?” you asked

“You are flirting with all of them.”She said, “So can you just, you know tone down the flirting a bit.”

“...I think I should leave,” you said

“(name) wait that's not what I meant.” She said

“Look it's getting late anyway I wasn't planning on staying out past ten.” you said “I want to make a scene I’ll just leave so you can all have fun.”

You walked back to the booth and grabbed your purse slinging it over your shoulder.

“Heyy where are you going?” the guy asked

“It's gotten late.” you said “I need to head back, thanks for the drinks.”

“Awwww, what lame.” Another guy said

“Maybe another time, bye-bye.” you said and left the booth, Fumiko came back

“Fumiii your friend left, I didn't even get her number.”

“Hey who said you would be the one getting her number?”

“Hey who said, who said you would be getting her number!” his other friend yelled at him, they started fighting amongst themselves they didn't see their other guy friend leave, till Fumi looked

“Hey didn't we have an extra guy just now?” she asked

“Hey, where is Akio?” His friend said, “That lousy bastard ditched us.”

Well, at least now we have a perfect amount of people.” One of the girls Fumiko brought said

“Greta another round then!”

You were walking down the street rather pissed off, first, she tells you it was just a couple of drinks, not the fact it was a mixer, and that they needed another woman to come. Secondly, the second that they start paying attention to you, they get all pissed off. You never understood people as you kept walking down the street in a huff letting people know to stay out of your way.

“Hey (name).” you hear a males voice oh it is one of the guys

“Huh what are you doing here?” you asked, man you felt drunk this is why you didn't drink you can't handle your booze.

“You just left all of a sudden, you okay?” He asked

“I'm fine, I'm fine, you can go back to your friends now,” you said your words were a bit slurred but you could make it home by yourself

“It's no fun when there isn't the same amount of men and women, here let me walk you home.” He said, and oh no you knew what that meant with these guys

“NO need, I can take care of myself,” you said and kept walking, he must have not gotten the hint because he kept walking behind you, before putting his arm over your shoulder

“You are stumbling let me help,” he said

“I told you I am fine,” you said slinging his arm off and kept walking, you just wanted to get away from this guy, there was a shortcut you thought not thinking correctly as you tried to lose him.

“Hey (Name), can you just listen to me, I'm just trying to be nice,” Akio said grabbing your wrist

“I don't want you to be nice, I want you to let me go before I cut you.” You said as he grabbed your other wrist.

“You won't be able to cut me if you can't move your hands.” he said, his tone shifting yup he was getting violent “You do have such an amazing quirk you know.” “Let me go already.” You said struggling before you flexed your fingers and pointed them down to stab him in the arms

“AGH YOU BITCH.” He yelled pulling back his arm and you booked it down the alley shortcut, you could hear him chasing after you. When he grabbed the back of your dress and yanked you into his chest.

“What's this, a lovers quarrel?” you heard someone else's voice, having no idea where it was coming from “You know women don't like pushy guys.” “Who the fuck said that?” Akio said not letting go of you

“I did up here.” the voice said with a whistle, and you looked up to see a man who looked around your age on fire escape legs dangling down as he was eating take out.

“This doesn't concern you,” Akio said, as you kept trying to crack loose, Akio was freaking out and now this strange man was just watching on.

“It kinda does, because here I am trying to enjoy some take out after a long day and now I see some brute manhandling someone who isn't interested.” He said as a can of coffee hit Akio on the head, not even in front of the direction the man was in. Akio must have thought it was not worth it and shoved you down and ran for it.

“Yeesh what a load of work.” The man said, “You good down there.”

“I'm… fine,” you said trying to gather your thoughts as you got up, great you skinned your knee, the man got up on his feet and looked down.

“I saw that you have a pretty neat quirk.” He said, “ Reminds me of bird talons.”

“Most people say cat paws.” you said getting up, was this guy trying to lift your spirits or something “I really wasn't thinking while coming down here, do you know the way out?”

“Yup, strength down that way to the left, wouldn't recommend going that way,” he said pointing the direction Akio booked it at.

“Thank you,” you said grabbing your purse and walking down, As the man looked in the direction Akio came to. Before an arrangement of red feathers came out from hiding in the alleyway and attached to his back, he had one more thing to do.

#yandere hawks #yandere keigo takami #yandere keigo #yandere takami #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere

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onebatch2batch · 4 years ago

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Karen as an art student reacting exactly how I would to seeing Frank Castle in a coffeehouse AU

As an art student, Karen prides herself on what she produces. She’s won scholarships, she’s sold paintings, she has an Etsy shop—she has done everything she can to establish herself as an artist. But she also hasn’t drawn anything worthwhile in months and she’s going fucking crazy. Around her, the coffee shop is an ASMR in live action; cups clink against dishes, muted conversation eclipsed by grinding beans, paper rustles. Karen sits alone and stares into her coffee mug, trying to think of the last thing she created and actually applauded herself for.

It’s too far back for her to be pleased about. She sighs and takes a sip of her coffee. As she does, she takes a slow glance around. There’s a couple across the room who have their heads bent close together. The girl looks guilty, the boy unhappy. An older gentleman sits at the bar with the newspaper, shoulders hunched. There’s some college kid with a laptop a few seats away from her, headphones in. And in the corner—Karen pauses. In the corner is a man.

He’s in a navy sweater—that’s what she notices first. The color goes beautifully with his tan skin, and she’s a little jealous considering she’s been pale as a ghost since August. His jeans look worn and comfortable, and his boots thick and heavy. There’s a large cup in front of him that he seems to have forgotten about. His elbows are braced on the table, thick fingers holding his paperback book aloft. The cover looks familiar, and after a moment she realizes it’s Catch-22. Karen absorbs all of these small details before allowing herself to look at his face.

Karen likes to think she has a good, albeit unorthodox taste in men. She’s always liked a man with striking features. This one is no different—his sharp chin meets an even sharper jawline and there’s a five o clock shadow on his face that makes him look a little rugged. His nose is a bit on the larger side, and crooked like he’s broken it once or twice before. A high forehead gives way to a thick head of short, dark curls. And finally—his eyes. From this distance she can tell they’re dark but nothing more. His brow is lax as he reads, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Karen zeros in on his mouth, on his defined cupid’s bow, as her hands reach automatically towards her sketchbook.

She needs to draw him. It would be a crime not to.

Coffee forgotten, Karen takes her fill of examining him. Her hand begins quick, soft movements as she creates his general outline. And then, glancing between her page and the way his shoulders move as he absentmindedly stretches, she begins to sketch with more surety. The man keeps his eyes on his book, eyes flitting back as forth across the words. As she draws, Karen wonders what his name is. He looks like a John, maybe. Or a Pete. Something simple and plain to juxtapose his features. Something that he can hide behind when he wants to go unnoticed.

He seems like the kind of guy who would prefer to be unnoticed.

Karen finishes one sketch and makes a face. Absolutely not—she’s gotten the nose all wrong. His forehead is too low. His shoulders too slumped.

She starts over.

On and on it goes. She draws four sloppy versions before she realizes he’s put his book down. By the time she registers that he’s watching her, it’s too late. Her pencil falters in her grasp. Their eyes meet.

Oh no. Mortified, Karen looks away, into her coffee mug. Maybe he just happened to glance at her when she glanced at him. Maybe it doesn’t have to be awkward. Or maybe she’s made him feel awkward and he’ll leave. The thought causes a pang to echo in her chest and she looks up to ensure that’s not the case.

Hot man with striking features is coming towards her, mug and book in hand.

Ohh no.

“Hey,” the man says once she’s standing before her. His voice is raspy, almost hoarse, and undeniably sexy. It makes her spine tingle. He cocks his head slightly, glances down at the sketchbook. “What’re you doing?”

It’s too late, he’s seen the sketches. Karen can’t tell if she’s more embarrassed at their slipshod quality, or that she’s been caught. She habitually rubs the corner of the page between her fingers—a nervous gesture.

“I’m just sketching, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” There, that’s a good way to put it. Casual. Apologize. Don’t stare too hard at the way his brows raise, mouth pursing to the side.

He blinks. “Sketching me?”

She must be flushed pink now. Karen clears her throat and straightens her posture. “Yes, I won’t anymore if you don’t want me to.”

“No, no, I don’t mind,” he says quickly. “I just—what for?”

She blinks up at him, at his genuinely confused expression, and it all clicks. “Well,” she says carefully, “because you’re attractive and gave me some inspiration.”

Now it’s his turn to blink down at her, and then he laughs once. Then again softer, dropping into the chair in front of her, rubbing his jaw. “Sorry, ma’am, I mean—you think this face is attractive?”

It’s self-deprecating, but gracious. He’s comfortable with the thought that people don’t find him attractive--and that won’t do at all. Karen raises her brows, her embarrassment forgotten. “Want me to show you?”

The man takes a long pull from his mug, eyes never leaving hers, and then he nods. Karen grins, flips to a new page, and begins to draw.

—

She gets lost in the marks of her pencil as it scratches over the thick page of her sketchbook. Her soft graphite circles give way to darker, stronger lines that slowly form into the man sitting before her. When she glances up to reference him, he’s watching her curiously. She’s pleased to note that his ears are a little pink, but he doesn’t move much. Occasionally he lifts his mug to his lips, causing her pencil to falter as she watches, and then once his face is revealed again she continues.

This goes on long enough for her to develop a cramp, but Karen powers through until she’s finished. This could be the last time she ever sees the man before her, and she wants to get it right. She needs to prove to him that he’s wrong about himself.

“It’s the nose, isn’t it?” He jokes when she finally stops, staring down at her page. The likeness is as close as she will ever get to him with this medium, and she wants to keep it to herself just one more moment before giving it away.

“I like your nose,” she tells him after a beat too long, and then shoots him a look that tells him she means it. And then she turns the sketchbook to show him.

The man rips his stare from her face and looks at the drawing in silence. After a moment he reaches out to take it from her, holding it delicately between his hands. She searches his expression for a clue of what he’s thinking, but his brow is smooth and mouth unsmiling. Finally, he hands back the drawing and folds his arms loosely on the table.

“That’s fuckin’ incredible,” her tells her, and the air whooshes out of her lungs in relief.

“Thank you. I’m Karen Page, by the way.”

He accepts her handshake. His palm is dry and warm. Calloused. “Frank, Frank Castle. Nice to meet you, ma’am. But I still think you’re crazy.”

He says it with such a rueful grin that she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Well, think I’m crazy all you want. That doesn’t stop me from knowing that the couple in the corner are fighting because the girl was staring at you, and it doesn’t stop me from wanting to draw you again.”

Frank glances at the corner, where the boy is shooting him daggers. He huffs, then turns an amused look on Karen. “Well, can’t say I know what to say to that other than thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Would you like to keep it?”

Frank taps his finger on his coffee mug consideringly. His eyes trace the online of her drawing. “Only if I can buy it.”

“No way, Frank.” She likes the way his name fits in her mouth. It suits him far better than Pete. She wants to say it again, but she settles for: “I was just practicing, is all. It’s yours.”

He takes the drawing and slides it carefully between the pages of his book. Then he looks at her again and smiles. “Then how ‘bout I buy you dinner tomorrow night?”

It catches her so off guard that she’s already nodding before he’s finished talking. Once it sinks in that he’s asked her out, he’s already plucked her pencil from her hand and written his number on a napkin. He pushes it towards her and grins again.

“No pressure. You call me, if you decide you wanna.”

Karen takes it and carefully writes his number next to her previous sketches of him. She glances up at his pleased look, and instantly knows she’d gladly spend a lifetime trying to catch that expression on paper.

But she’s happy to start tomorrow, with dinner.

#kastle #kastle fam #mine #my writing #kastle ff #kastle fanfic

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years ago

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ISSUES.

Juan Carlos “Juice” Ortiz x Reader

@dazzledamazon asked: Can I ask for one with Juice 76. “I need you to pretend we’re dating…” 78. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” I can’t wait to see what you come up with for our sexy Juicy boy. Love love love your work hun.

Word Count: 2.1k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“You're finally here!” Juice's desperate and hoarse voice assaults you at the exact moment you open the club's door, scaring you for a while.

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU ‘DON'T SHOUT AT ME WHEN I COM'IN’?” You yell at him, before looking your coffee is spread all around the floor, after falling down because of the fright. “Sweet Jesus Christ, I'm very tired of your fucking dramas, Juan Carlos!”

The crew starts to laugh loudly, while the man is staring at you with an horror expression on his face, pretending that his offended too.

“No, listen, listen! I truly need your help!”

Turning your gaze around, and a strange feeling in the environment, you understand that the Sons' knows what he needs and you'll not like it.

“I'm not gonna clean it”. You shake your head with pursed lips, pointing the drink staining the floor and passing it away straight to the bar.

“Could you please listen me?”

“I'm already doing it, even if I wished I couldn' do it”. Rolling your eyes, and leaving your bag over a fridge, you turn to him with both eyebrows upped.

“I need you to pretend we're dating”.

Narrowing your eyes with parted lips and a confused expression draw on your face, the other men breaks into laughter and coughs for the lack of air. Juice seems so fucking desperate and needy for your help, but you're not in the mood to pretend it. You like him. You really like him. You love the way he has to hug you, to try to fix a bad day yours, to always makes you feel comfortable, to help you with anything... And he also has that charming smile that provokes you smooth chills on your neck. Pretending that you're dating, it's like throwing yourself on a bonfire for no reason.

“No”. You say with a firm tone, leaning above the bar with your hands supported on the edge.

“C'mon! I need you. My mother is coming to Charming, to meet my girlfriend. Are you gonna break her heart?”

“Juice, are you fuckin' kidding me? Why the hell you said that you has one?”

“'Cause she was weighing me down! And I just said it! I wasn't thinking!”

“I didn't even know you can think”. Rubbing your face, and hearing some chuckles from the president, you stare at him again.

“Please...” He's showing you his best puppy eyes, making you slap his temple as a reflex act. “Stop hitting me!”

“You fucking deserve it! I'm gonna kill you, I swear to god, Juice”.

“But, are you gonna help me or not?”

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

You have never heard before about Juice's mother, so you don't know what kind of person she is. But you hope the dinner pass fast, so you don't have to pretend too much. Your heart races when you hear the door bell. Tying the shoelaces of the white Converse, you run to the front door, opening it somewhat hurry.

“Two minutes!” You say turning around to go back towards your room, to grab your bag and put well the sage green dress on, having a last look on the mirror.

Juice is looking at you stunned and amazed, seeing how you brush your hair tangling your fingers. But for some reason, you start to doubt about it. Looking yourself from top to bottom, you shake both hands, waiting for something from him.

“You're... beautiful. I me-mean, you're always. But... now... I mean, beautiful”.

Clicking your tongue to avoid your cheeks turning red, you palm his chest to go straight to the car. You're nervous, it's pretty obvious because you're going to meet his mother. And it's not the way you would like it, but maybe it's a start for something else. Shaking your head, coming back to reality you adjust the belt on your chest and on your stomach, ready to start the engine by Juice.

“How is she?” You ask then, after some minutes in silence.

“Don' worry. Luckily it's gonna be the first and the last time you're gonna see her”.

Swallowing saliva, you turn your gaze through the window. You don't know what to think, but it's something bad because sounds like he's going to tell him in some weeks that you ‘broke up’. Leaving a heavy sigh, you try to focus in pretend that you're together for some hours and that's all. No illusions, no future. Nothing. Tomorrow you will continue being you, and he will continue being Juice. That's all. Even if Chibs told you that he's secretly in love with you. Or Juice hides it very good, or Chibs is playing fool with you.

“Ready?”

No, you're not. But you nod, when the car is already parked next to the restaurant. Getting out of it, you walk close to him, holding his hand without expecting when you see an old woman with an elegant look staring at you. Juice smile softly but unquiet, exactly as you feel. This fake show is not going to end good and you know it. But you will try. More for him, that for you.

“Pretend that I said something funny”. You chuckles somewhat forced, turning your face at him. For some reason, his laugh are too loud, that you start to laugh shaking your head. “Sweet Jesus, Juice... Not that high!”

Now he's infected because of you, and it's looks natural and carefree, finding yourself more relaxed when you reach her mother.

“Hey, mom”. He says animated, pushing you into her. “This is (Y/N), my girlfriend. See? She's real”.

“A pleasure”. You extend your hand towards her, but she doesn't move a single inch, looking you from top to bottom.

“Sure”. She says with a raised eyebrow and her eyes on your hand.

Turning and giving you her back, the girl continue her steps to the inside of the restaurant. Juice rolls his eyes, sighing a ‘sorry’ in almost a whisper placing a hand on your waist before holding you the door. Now you understand why he never talks about his mother. You would like to slap the shit out of her too.

The waitress served the beverages in complete silence, whilst you can notice that your fake boyfriend is trembling slightly. It wasn't a good idea. But you're already here and neither can run away. Serving some cold water in your glass and on his, so you can have a sip to wet your throat.

“Is my son a personal project?”

You have to lean your mouth to the floor when you spit your drink, starting to cough when the air doesn't come to your lungs.

“Mom!” He yells at her, raising a hand before palming your back.

“I—I'm oka—okay... Don' worry, babe”. You say, almost dying also killing her with your gaze. “He's a good boy. What kind of mother says something like that?”

“The kind who knows that her son is a human waste”.

You're shocked cleaning your mouth with the napkin, wanting to believe that you didn't hear what you actually heard. Juice is embarrassed, feeling small on his chair. He knows that he should have invited any other girl, so as not to spoil your friendship. But you're not going to let her say that horribles things about him.

“Juice is pretty cool. He's intelligent, so hella' smart. You should see him with a laptop under his hands”. You reply placing both forearms on the table, gesticulating with your fingers covered with some golden rings. “He's a good boy and the best friend I could ever ask for. He's kind, gentle, polite, responsible, generous, empathic... And I could tell you thousands qualities more about him. And he's also fucking breathtaking. I mean, look at him! Looks like the only thing you did well on your life, and I don't even know you”.

Juice is freaking out, covering his mouth with a hand, turning his attention from you towards his mother, as if he was watching a tennis match. His mother has her eyebrows frowned, waiting for her son to say something in her defense. But there you are, ready to attack again.

“Now I know why he has self-confidence problems, and you know what? I'm not gonna let him lose his precious time with someone like you”. Sentencing the conversation, you get up of your chair taking your bag and offering him a hand, really pissed off because his mother. “Babe, we're leaving”.

“Shit, yes”. He chuckles tangling his fingers with yours, without even saying goodbye.

God, it's feel so good could say what you think about him in a situation like this, that you won't be able to sleep because of the adrenaline running through your body.

“(Y/N), it was fuckin' amazing. I swear”.

When you're close enough to the car, he turns at you cupping your cheeks on his hands to press his lips on yours very excited, without thinking it. It's short and when he pulls you away, he has the same confused gesture that you have on.

“I'm so—sorry... I sho—shouldn't have kissed you”. He tries to speak, walking back some steps in slow-motion.

Your throat is frozen, there are no words you could say in a moment like this. You're screaming internally, totally freaking out, taking some seconds to you to walk right to your seat. And there's some kind of tension inside the car, whilst Juice drives in complete silence. He doesn't know where he should take you and his embarrassed for what he just did. But for some reason, the Son' thinks it's a good idea go to the club. Some of his brothers are sitting on the yard, sharing beers and laughs, till they notice your arrive.

Happy is the one who gets up, worried by the look of your face, giving his drink to Chibs, so he can hold it. Getting out of the car, you make a sign to the older letting he know that everything is okay, even if it's not.

“Hey, (Y/N), listen... Wait”. Juice claims for your attention, grabbing your wrist to make you turn over your Converse. “I'm sorry, I di—”.

“You don' have to worry about nothing, I'm fine. We are”. You say, trying to sound convincing enough.

“Do you... really think all those things about me?”

“Good god, Juice... You're so fuckin' dumb, that you couldn't realize it even if I write it in a banner and I fly it through the sky hanging from a plane”. You sigh rubbing your temples with your fingers. “I like you. A lot. Actually”.

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why you like me?”

“Are you... fuckin' serious?”

“Yeah. I mean, there are a lot of guys better than me”.

Leaning down your chin just a little with both eyebrows raised, you stare at him not knowing if punch him or what. You're sure that this is his mother's fault. You can't imagine how she treated him his whole life, till he found Jax.

“But I don' care. I like you. You, not... other guys better than you, if that is possible”.

“So... I shouldn't be sorry for kissing you?”

“Of course not!” You reply kinda desperate. “Seriously, you're so fucking... brainless”.

“You said I'm intelligent, and so hella' smart”.

“Yea', you have your moments...”

“Can I kiss you again?”

“But, why the fuck you ask?” Unbelievable what you have to deal with.

“You also said I'm polite”.

“Shit, I'm gonna fuck you down if you repeat something else of wh—”.

You can't finish your threat, when he does it again. He has that goofy smile on his lips pressing yours in a soft kisses, stealing your air as he tastes them. Placing his hands on your low back to push you somewhat closer, you let yourself go. You've been wanting it for long, long months, and you don't even care of the Sons' are clapping and whistling as fucking children five years old. 'Cause Juice finally saw what you feel, and you finally discovered that he was truly in love with you and Chibs wasn't lying.

Pulling you away some inches, you two laugh as idiots shaking your heads and your fingers tangled above his nape.

“I think I know a good place to have a date, better than this full of creepy old men”.

“Sounds good”. You laugh then, letting him hold back your hand to guide you towards the car.

#sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz imagine

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

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winter prompt fill 29, indruck, sfw?

29. i should’ve done my shopping a month ago but now i’m running around last minute and when i enter your store, i’m absolutely frazzled. help me.

(Pinecone is borrowed from harrisonator’s fic “Monster Mash”)

Working at Kepler Petco isn’t the worst thing, even during the holiday shopping hellscape months. It’s not like anyone is getting in fistfights over cases of Fancy Feast. Which is why, on the 22nd of December, Duck is unprepared for the sudden sound of hands on hitting the countertop.

“I need help.” The guy’s about his age, silver hair going patchy black near the top, pink and white striped sweater around his neck and a massive sweater hanging off his lanky frame. His red glasses barely conceal brown, anxious eyes.

“Sure, what’re lookin for?”

“Rat treats, the kind that won’t make them ill.”

“Can handle that, right this way.” Duck leaves the counter and leads the guy back to the small mammal section. As they go the man spins a ring on his index finger, flushing under the merciless heating vents.

“I’m sorry for the dramatic entrance. I have a mountain of things to do today and your store closes first.”

Duck glances at the AKC branded clock on the wall, which shows 12:30 p.m, “We close at five.”

“Yes, I know, but I really cannot overstate how behind I am on my Christmas shopping. Or, well, holiday is more accurate, since Joseph celebrates Hanukkah, which means I’m already late on that.” He sighs, runs a finger with chipped black nails through his hair.

“Big family?” Duck points to the row of snacks, grabs the man a basket from the end of the aisle when he starts piling them into his arms.

“Lots of friends. We’re having a party tomorrow and I completely forgot about it until today. I know it’s ridiculous to forget about a holiday where you can’t turn around without being slapped with a reminder of it, but my brain doesn’t always work in the way I’d like it to.”

“No judgement here. Once forgot my sisters birthday until the minute my mom asked if I could get some candles for the cake after school.”

“Oh dear.” The man smiles, the expression shifting from odd to shy when Duck meets his eyes, “thank you for your help.”

Five minutes later the guy heads towards the register, then stops, backtracking to the display of rats, mice, and hamsters. Duck joins him in case he has questions, and to steal another look at his singular features. They’re not handsome on the surface, but something about them draws his eye back over and over. He’s just in time to hear the man cooing to a pair of brown rats.

“...so lovely, aren’t you just charming? If I could I’d take you home but space is limited. Oh” he blushes when he sees Duck, “I’m, ah, ready to pay now.”

“One of your friends got rats?” He indicates the pile of treats the man is buying.

“Hmm? Oh, no, these are for Luna and Emperor, my rats. I wanted to get them presents too.”

Duck can’t decide if the fact the guy prioritized spoiling his pets on the day he had to buy a bunch of gifts is adorable or worrying.

“As I said, I came here because you close first. And I, ah, I like spoiling them. It’s nice to know exactly how to cheer another living thing up.”

“I get that. Pinecone, that’s my, uh, my cat, gets more treats a month than I do.”

“Someone ought to buy you a few, then.” The man murmurs, handing over his debit card.

Duck, caught up in the mechanics of fighting with the card reader, doesn’t realize he’s being flirted with until the man is no more than a silver head merging into the throng outside.

He’s lowkey annoyed with himself the rest of the day; he’s been in the market for a cute guy, and while his mystery shopper may not be Ryan Gosling, but Duck wouldn’t mind getting his number.

Since he opened today, he gets off at three, decides to swing by Crate and Barrel in case the apron he thinks Barclay might like. There’s small hallways dotted through the mall, leading to exits or to backrooms. As he passes one, he gets a glimpse of silver hair and a vibrant scarf. That’s the only good part of what he sees; the man from earlier is pressed close to the shiny wall, trying and failing to get his breathing order.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

He jolts, registers who’s speaking, and looks at the ground, “N-not really. I, part of the reason put this off so long is I can get incredibly overwhelmed in crowds sometimes, and yes I know that makes coming here three days before Christmas even worse an idea but I thought maybe I could handle it, but I’ve only managed to buy two of the gifts I need because I cannot focus with everything going on and, and I’m sorry, here I wanted to charming around you and now you’ve seen this and-”

“What would help?”

“I, I’d like to go somewhere quiet, but there’s nowhere, even the bathrooms are packed.”

“Do you, uh, want to come sit in my car for a bit? I can run the heater so we don’t freeze.”

“That’s really alright?” The question is so small and vulnerable he wants to tuck it into a shoebox to keep it safe.

“Yeah. C’mon, I’m parked on this end.”

It’s snowing on and off as they walk to his car, and as he gets it running and turns on the heat his passenger finally pulls his clenched hands from his pockets; one holds a fidget cube, the other a very small, plush moth.

“I tried so hard to prepare for every possible future.” Is what he gets as explanation. The man sets both items in his lap and shuts his eyes, breathing slowly in and out. Duck says nothing, opens his phone and plays two rounds of Plants vs. Zombies before he hears anything at all from beside him.

“Would you mind turning the radio on, at a low volume?”

“Any requests?” Duck hits the power button.

“No talk radio.”

“Can manage that.” He fiddles around and finds the alternative station. Even it has Christmas songs interspersed with the usual mix.

“Is your name really Duck?”

He wonders if the guy is omnipotent until he remembers his nametag.

“It’s a nickname.”

“I’m Indrid.” He opens his eyes, “thank you for letting me come here to calm down. I may actually manage to succeed in my quest now. It’s so hard, I actually enjoy being out around the lights, the feeling of so many people being happy or trying to do kind things for each other. But it’s easy to get overwhelmed, especially when I’m alone.”

“Would it help if you weren’t?”

“Possibly, but I couldn’t ask you to spend even more time in that mall given you work there.”

“Got some last minute shoppin to do myself. Besides, if you get stuck on a gift, I’m pretty damn good at comin up with ideas.”

“Thank you.” Indrid smiles, excited, and that settles it: Duck is asking for his number after this.

They brave the crowds and the holiday cheer blaring across the speakers once more. The first stop is a store selling housewares, including a pair of small succulents that Indrid deems worthy of giving a friend as he listens to Duck talk about his part time job at the National Forest, laughing when Duck mentions last weeks run-in with a pissed-off migratory bird.

The next few stores are no help, and they opt to take advantage of the lull between when people are done with school and when people are done with work to hit up the coffeeshop, Indrid ordering a white chocolate peppermint mocha and promptly getting whipped cream on his nose. Duck is tempted to kiss it off, settles for handing his new friend a napkin while he talks about his recent return to Kepler after traveling around the country in a Winnebago, selling his art at shows. As luck would have it, the store has a shelf devoted to artisan or local coffees, and they’re each able to find one for someone on their list.

Macy's proves more treacherous, and once five o’ clock hits even Duck is feeling cramped. Indrid is tensing, his replies getting short or far off, and just as Duck is about to offer to dip out again, chilly fingers link with his own.

“Is this alright?”

“Better than alright.” He grins and Indrid holds tighter, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth as Duck guides them into a less crowded corner. The do eventually find some high quality hiking socks that Indrid buys, only letting go of Duck in order to pay.

They reward themselves with dinner at Johnny Rocket, Duck hopping over to Indrid’s side of the booth to see pictures of Emperor and Luna, and show off the photos he has of Pinecone hiding under his ranger jacket.

“One more stop, thank goodness.” It’s going on seven and Duck has to say he agrees; he loves being around Indrid, but his feet are killing him and he’s had “Jingle Bells” stuck in his head for an hour.

Indrid’s last item is at Crate and Barrel, and Duck laughs when the other man goes straight to the aprons.

“You got good taste, I’m gettin’ one of these too. Barclay said he needed a new one.”

A fine-boned hand freezes mid-reach, “Did you say Barclay?”

“Yeah?”

“I am also buying this for a Barclay. Is your Barclay, by chance, dating someone named Joseph and hosting a party tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

They stare at each other, frozen long enough that another shopper passes between them. Then they double over in sync, Duck wheezing out a laugh while Indrid cackles.

“Holy shit, we’ve been shoppin for the same folks!”

“Barclay mentioned there’d be new people at the party but I never thought one of them would be such a catch.”

Duck gets his breathing in order, steps across the faux-hardwood and takes Indrid’s hand.

“Hey, Indrid? You wanna be my date to the party tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

“....wait, fuck, which one of us is gonna give him the apron?”

“You can, I have another idea for him. Consider it an early present from me.” Indrid tease.

“Sugar,” Duck slips his hands into Indrid’s back pockets, smiling up at him, “you might just be all the present I need.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #winter fills #fluff #meet cute

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burgerkang000 · 4 years ago

Text

Serve an ace through my heart

this is a Jongho fic and its pretty long so I'm gonna do the read more thing

@beyoncesdragon @aixy-hpsa(if anyone else wanna be tagged pls tell me!!!)

tumblr i hate u, u keep on eating my spaces TT-TT

Being out of your comfort zone; nobody likes that. For you, you never really got around into being comfortable with, well, a lot of things. And you never really saw what was wrong with that. You hear your friends talking about how they were dragged into doing things they never wanted to do, and they either end up loving it or hating it.

It wasn’t like you were entitled to sort out the uneasiness.

Right now, the uneasiness you felt towards playing volleyball is an example of something you didn’t want to sort out.

But the volleyball team was lacking, and the captain was looking for new players and training them separately, until their ready to join the team.

And you must have checked all the boxes for ‘volleyball player’, because the captain has been constantly nagging you to at least try it out.

And in a moment of fury, you had said no, you’re not interested, you’re afraid and uncomfortable.

And even though looking back on it, you felt that you were a bit harsh, but even so, you had thought that he was done bothering you.

But the next day Choi Jongho; the guy you spend YEARS pining comes up to you. And that’s new, because you’re sure he doesn’t know of your existence, and he says-

“Sometimes you have to do things that make you uncomfortable to actually like it”

And you don’t understand; you gape at him for what feels like centuries, as you haven’t caught on yet; for fucks sake the guy hasn’t even said hello.

And he sighs, as if he’s done with people not understanding him, and you blame exactly him for that because of the cryptic way he speaks, he could speak Morse code and you’d understand him better; and he begins to explain, as if that’s the most draining thing in the world.

And you think that this guy is getting less and less charming the more he opens his mouth (That is a lie).

“Play volleyball with us, join the team, you fit the qualities to be one, and its actually fun- not easy- but fun; and about the uncomfortable thing, sometimes you just need to get past the feeling, and then you can actually feel , once the cloud of poor judgement is out of your system.”

And he said a lot of things, he did, but somehow the moment you actually stop and say something you HAD to say-

“I have poor judgement?” and you blink up at him.

And let’s be honest here- scary looking, kind of jerk face, jock, probably bullied into asking you to join the volleyball team; totally would have said something along the lines of ‘of course, what do you expect your judgement to be? Reliable?’

But Jongho looked taken aback, sort of offended that you thought of him as lowly, as he aggressively shakes his head.

“I meant the being uncomfortable; it makes your judgement poor, and I would never say that, what kind of person do you take me to be?”

And you sigh and rub you’re temple. You can’t believe the fact that you’re actually considering this. It’s like the captain knows about your massive crush and is totally using it against you.

“I – well I – I’m not sure if I’ll like it.” You reply, fidgeting with the watch that has been strapped on your wrist.

HE sighs yet again (AGAIN) and says-

“Well, you’ll never know if you won’t try, I can give you a test run if you’d like.”

“Well uhh-“

“There are no girls on the team; we genuinely want people who think that girls can’t make it onto the team to change their mind-set.”

OK if anything can convince you, its woman empowerment, so you nod, and try to convince yourself that this is you’re part of showing support; and that watching hot sweaty guys (read: Choi Jongho) play volleyball was just a plus side.

“Great, tomorrow, Gym, after school.”

And he leaves.

Where does he think he is in? High school musical?

“Tomorrow, Gym, after school” you mimic as you resume packing your stuff.

The school was empty and it was something you haven’t experienced before, other than the club people there was pin drop silence in the corridors, when you passed by the basketball court you could hear the aggressive squeaking and bouncing.

You had never really stayed behind after school, except that one time your whole class had failed on a test and all of you had to stay back for extra classes. But it was noisy then.

When you entered the gym, you spot Jongho and the captain talking. And once the captain notices you he smirks. The captain is evil, you think.

“So I thought you weren’t joining?” He asks as he walks up to you.

You angrily mutter-

“Well, yeah, I’m here to watch”

You realise that you don’t know the captains name.

The captain chuckles and as he’s walking past you, you grab his arm and ask him.

“I didn’t get your name…”

“I can tell it to you if you join the team”

“I can ask someone here” you tighten the grip on his hand.

“….. Song Mingi”

You hum and let him go; he caresses his wrist, where red marks your tight hold of his hand.

“Oh don’t be so smug” he tells you.

“If anything it tells me you have good grip; that just makes me want you in the team so~ much more than the last time”

You poke your tongue out at him, because you’re a mature human being and walk towards the bleachers.

And after an hour of watching them play, you’ve gathered nothing.

All you think is that volleyball is cool. It makes the players look cool; and sure all of them are eye candy, but you’re eyes draw to Jongho more times than you would like to admit.

You can’t help it, the boy’s expression when he’s half crouched and waiting for actions makes you shiver, his hair sticking to his forehead, beads of sweat trickling down the sides of his neck, the slight exposure of his skin when he jumps or serves.

And you can’t get started on the guy’s thighs.

And you lied; the whole half of the game your eyes were trained on him, your mouth slightly agape as you watch him.

And if you knew you would have stopped, it was only when you were admiring Jongho drinking water that the captain- Song Mingi- decides to interrupt you.

You were in the middle of watching him gulp down water; sometimes he aggressively detaches the bottle from his mouth and takes sharp gulps of air before immediately bringing it back to his lips and gulping, and the water sometimes escapes from the corners of his mouth and-

Your soul has left your body, and you’re definitely drooling, and as you shuffle to get a more comfortable position and a better view, you feel a tap at your shoulder.

You shrug it off as being stupid, sometimes a hair moves a tiny inch on your body and your convinced it’s a spider, maybe it’s one of those times, and spider be damned, you’re looking at Choi Jongho in all his sweaty glory.

But then someone says-

“Like the view?”

And you startle backwards and see Mingi in stitches.

You look at him un-amused as he finishes up laughing, and once he’s done you want to hit him, but the thing is you have self-control. What you don’t have control over is how you want to stop watching some guy laughing and continue to stare at Jongho like he’s some interesting movie.

So you do exactly that only to find Jongho is dead on staring at you too, and you startle backwards yet again, hand flying towards your chest and hastily look away. And you can hear Mingi laughing again, then you look u to take a peek to see Jongho jogging up to you.

He’s panting and breathless and he smells like sweat, but he still manages to look drop dead gorgeous, he bends over hands on his knees and asks

“So…. Like volleyball yet?”

And he’s panting between his words; so it’s only kind enough to-

“Would you like some water?”

He nods, so you hand him your bottle and avert your eyes while he drinks, because they guy is right in front of you, and you don’t want to do anything stupid.

He hands you the bottle when he’s done, swipes the back of his hand to get rid of the water that has clung to his lips and you’re eyes linger there more than necessary.

“So…?” he asks. Here he goes again with the cryptic speaking, you resist the urge to roll your eyes and you ask-

“So….?”

He sighs like he’s done with you and asks-

“So how do you like volleyball?”

“Oh... Umm its cool I guess, but I don’t think I can do all that- it looks hard”

“It’s a matter of practice”

“I don’t know”

“Maybe you shouldn’t join, if you’re this uncomfortable”

And you felt a pang of disappointment at that, as if you’ve let him down.

“I can try… to play- I mean”

He looks at you for a few moments and says-

“Great, be there tomorrow after school on the tracks; captain said I can train you”

He flashes a smile at you- gums and all, waves and hurry back to the game.

Something that caused you’re stomach to flutter was that he waved alright, walking backwards while you waved and smiled back, all the way to the centre of the gym until he hit the pole and sheepishly rubbed his head, waved one last time and let the game take over.

The next day after school, you were in an empty track. You thought the track team would be there, but there was no one except Jongho and you.

You were told to run, and do all sorts of crazy exercises that you didn’t even know the name of. It was safe to say you were making demonic breathing noises through the whole ordeal, taking way too many water breaks and you looked far too messed up then you usually are. The uncomfortable feeling of sweat causing your clothes to cling to your body, and sweat trickling down the sides of your neck, was in fact not that uncomfortable. Quite the opposite; it was satisfactory, you think you look cool like those sports people in the ads, until you caught your reflection at a glass door and decided to not look again, and either way, you wouldn’t exercise for hours and NOT sweat.

And Jongho? He was pushing you through the whole thing, telling you what to do, how to do, basically training you; you haven’t even learnt one volleyball trick.

And you think this is hard.

Very hard.

But on the not so bright side, this time around you couldn’t stare at Jongho, every time he comes close; your heart does palpations, every time his skin comes in contact with yours, the warm sticky feeling made your stomach do summersaults.

And this continued on for a week. Yes, you, the most talented person when it comes to not doing any physical activity, did crazy exercise routines with a ball for Choi fucking Jongho, there’s no denying at this point. Even though you won’t voice it to him, Choi Jongho better be grateful or you’re going to die.

On the bright side, you and the team captain have been hanging out a lot lately, talking over coffees and homework and subtle smiles in corridors. And you voice it to him one day, of how Jongho should be grateful, because you can’t move your body.

“I must have been right to send Jongho to ask you then?” He says with a smug smile.

And you angrily mutter threats that hold no meaning and look away.

Even though it’s only been a month of training, and they want you to play.

And you’ve put all you’re arguments out on the table, and the team has shot all of them down as if it were that easy. But the whole idea of playing for the team, on a real match that counts, makes your gut churn and twist and tighten all at the same time.

And once all the members left, you see Jongho from the corner of your eye, sit next to you.

You feel his long, slender fingers rubbing you’re shoulder, probably for a soothing effect, that actually made the butterflies to flap and you didn’t really need that will all the churning, twisting and tightening happening down there.

And he says

“Calm down, ok” And you nod, but your attempts to calm down are useless, uneasiness clinging on to you.

Jongho sighs, and by now spending one month with him, you have noticed how he sighs a lot. In the past one moth, you both have been hanging out every chance you get, besides training.

It was really more calming, if you overlook the feelings on your side. Being with Jongho was calming, and knowing yourself, you usually are too busy trying to make memories you forget to live in the moment. But when you were with Jongho, you were pulled into the moment, in fact you were so into the moment, you haven’t even thought about making it a memory. And the plus side is you remember everything that happened when you’re with him. More than that there is this creeping feeling of how attached you’re growing to him that you will away for now.

One thing that makes your heart flutter every time is when he leaves, he walks backward, waving to you all the while, until he hits a pole, tree, human, pillar, or any object, then waves on last time and leaves.

You lost.

Great

You feel this intense mixture of dread and guilt.

It’s sad, it’s your first match but you’ve managed to lose for your team, because the other team could tell your inexperience, and even though you and Jongho had worked on your legs trembling while playing, you couldn’t control it out there.

There were people watching you so everything you did was a mess, every thrust was weaker than you thought, every opportunity was a lost one

You wanted to tell the team I told you so, but they didn’t look so bummed out, Mingi said some bullshit speech about how the team tried its best and it’s all about having fun anyways…

He also told you to take it easy.

But you felt like you were swallowing shards of glass, and breathing in iron fillings and as soon as the team left you could hold you’re tears back anymore, and it hurt because you were excited, and if it were not for you the team could have easily won, and you felt as if you shouldn’t have agreed to join in the first place, damn you Choi Jongho.

But really damn him; because he sat next to you and then one look at him was all it took for you to break down into sobs and he pulled you toward him, your face was snuggled up into his chest. And you were painfully stiff at first, until he started stroking you’re hair and whispering how its ok and how he’s proud of you and how you did well, and how everyone is proud of you and as you continued crying you were relaxing into his hold, which was stirring up warmth and you sobbed into his shirt for a really long time.

And when you were finally done, you looked up at him, and he was very close, like very, nose touching kind of close and you weren’t able to do anything but stare with wide eyes.

And was he getting closer?

And then there was no more distance between the both of you as a pair of lips captured yours, and at first your eyes were open and looking at Jongho’s closed ones, and soon enough he grew impatient and began prodding at your lips and you closed your eyes and kissed him back. Your heart was beating very fast, you wanted to swallow, but can you? Like is it allowed to swallow in a kiss, and it was painfully quiet all around you, until Jongho pulled away with a drawn out breath .You didn’t even have time to open your eyes, as a pair of lips part at your neck and he leaves open mouth kisses along the length of you neck, you hiss as he sucks particularly hard at a spot. He guides you to half lie down on the bench as he attacks your neck, and he scrapes his teeth along the attacked area and your hand shoots out to his shoulder, and he continues littering soft kisses and apologetic swipes of his tongue to sooth the pain. And soon enough he was back to sucking and nosing at your neck, and your grip on his shoulder tightens as you let out little mewls of satisfaction, at one point Jongho grunts and pulls away.

And you lie there and Jongho is back straddling you . His face hovers just above your ear, he says-

“I’m going to take you on a date and then we’re continuing this.” And it was so low and so husky that you can’t help the sound that gets past your lips.

He nips at your ear and crawls away from you.

You groan and cover your face in embarrassment before you say-

“Ok, let’s go on a date” And when you finally look at him, he’s beaming at you, and its blinding.

Your date was mostly looking at each other and you looking away every five seconds, giggling and then blushing.

And you were halfway through you’re drinks when you suddenly exclaim.

“I should lose more volleyball matches if I’m going to end up with really hot dates”

And Jongho looks at you with a pointed glare and asks

“Really?”

And you hum

And before you know it he was right in front of you, lips nipping at your ear again, and he says-

“No more volleyball for you”

And you giggle AGAIN, and he smiles at you. And you have got a good feeling about this, whatever you have got going on with Jongho.

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aresrl · 3 years ago

Note

I hihi I am!!! A little nervous w/ doing this bc I've never done this b4 so please bear🐻 w// me💦 May I request a match up? A vision, a romantic partner and maybe a friend and/or enemy? If that's too much feel free to just assign me a vision + partner, ehe/// Preferably male for a romantic match-up, but either gender is fine with a friend and enemy match-up^^ I tried to be as detailed as possible but I think I ended up just ranting, so im v v sorry if it's long! I sort of fluctuate when it comes to being an introvert/extroverted. W// strangers and irl, I'm very introverted and shy!! Rarely speak and if I do it's just the usual "Hi how are you? That's good. I'm good too, thank you for asking:)" yeayea I'm not too. Keen on social interaction irl. But I always do my best to be very nice!! I never wanna come off as mean bc wow what a bad first impression that would be. But with friends / ppl ik online?? Whew I am very very friendly n chatty ^^ Either very high energy or very chill, there's rarely any inbetween. Sometimes I like to jokingly tease my friends but I'd never go too far / make them uncomfortable!! And if I do I always apologize right away!! I like to say that I'm affectionate?? My strongest love language is def physical affection, if not quality time. Idk man there's just something about vibing with someone or hugging them that just aaaaa/// Although I usually display affection w// words of affection bc. Literally most of my friends are online friends so I can't actually hug them, sad times. Idk if this is needed/important info but I just remembered: I'm 5'6 around??? Need glasses bc. Whew i am blind (near sighted), I'm poc (specifically black) anndd, hm. Actually I think thats it for this section, aha. As you can see I'm, not really all that organized. Also I don't have the best attention span - while writing this I'm circling between 4 different apps - and I'm a bit of a mess. And also a little stupid. Just a smidge dumb. But I have my moments - I solved like. 2 puzzles in Inazuma by myself so I think that counts for something. I also find that I tend to talk a whole lot when I have an idea or smthn to say abt a thing I'm super interested in!! That's info-dumping. I info dump. Yes. I also really like to listen to other people talk abt things they like!!!! Its so nice :) I'm protective over people I care about!! I've never done it but 100% would bark at someone who messed with someone close to be. Arf arf yaknow. I tend to he impulsive. I'll do something, and be all "YEAH>:D" and then regret it later. And then I'll do it all over again in a fun little cycle :) I consider myself an optimist, but quickly turn into a pessimist whenever it concerns myself. Fun funfun. Should probably mention that I am. A very insecure person w/ dangerously low self esteem, which is super fun esp when you mix that with the fact that I'm rarely ever motivated to improve. Yayayay Also sort of a pushover?? Like most often than not I'll be convinced to do something, even if I'm not too keen on doing it. Also afraid of confrontation when it comes to my friends and strangers (that is, if it's concerning me!! I'll order smthn for my friend but if I need to order for myself?? uhh stutter time aha). I'm also a mega simp ahah! Srsly though if I fall for someone/get infatuated with someone I. Will be so obvious abt it even though I try very hard not to be. Would gush over that person probably. I don't really like mean people tbh. Like yes I'll be nice and civil with them but!!! I cannot stand!!! Rude people!!! Esp when they're mean for no reason like sir??? maam??? homie??? chill pls ty<3 People who aren't necessarily mean, but moreso have bastard energy and are just really "hehe>:D" but playfully are p poggers tho!!! I think I get along with kids!! I have a little sister,, around like. Nine? And we get along really well!! I also try and match a kid's energy whenever I'm tasked with looking after them. I take pride in the fact that kids like me >:].... even if they sometimes scare me-- Ok, interest time!!

I like art!! Quite a bit!! Less of a realistic artist and more of a cartoonist!! Idk there's just something fun abt drawing cartoons, hehe. I also like self ships - I have quite a bit of them, actually ! Idk its comforting drawings your fictional crushes loving you idkidk. I like writing too! Both original stories, and one-shots or personal fics that are associated with already created media!! Writing character backstories and personalities and stuff is also fun too! I've even made my own fictional world with a full fledged backstory n everything! It's very fun to think about. I'm a day dreamer!!! Yea remember when I said I write stories? I day dream abt potential stories even more. Mmm daydream world so nice so warm so fun I read aswell!! Mostly fantasy books, or stories where animals are the protagonists. Think Warrior Cats. But my favorite book series has got to be Guardians of Ga'Hoole. Fantasy owl books, anyway! X Readers are also things I enjoy reading :) Again, s I m p Also gaming!!! Is something fun I do sometimes!!! Although it's usually Genshin Impact, or Wii Sports/Resort w// my little sister. Oh, also pokemon! I rlly like Primarina, Vaporeon, Sylveon and Vulpix/Ninetails! I absolutely adore sweet foods, and baking is smthn I'm def interested in! Don't like foods w// weird textures though, like beans or mashed potatoes. Also I. Love spice so much. Mmm love it when my mouth burns so bad. Don't have a favorite animal but I've had three cats in my lifetime (btw not important but my current cat is named Sylvester and. He's my baby boy) so I am. A very big cat fan. Probably not needed but I really like sword and claymore characters. Literally all of the characters I main are either sword or claymore users. Although I did get Diona, so I miiight start forcing myself to learn how to aimmm. I see that I tend to like people/characters that are a little more extroverted than me. Upbeat, happy type beat!!! Nice sunshine babies, :) I think thats it! I hope this was good enough? Again, first time doing this (at 2am nonetheless) so forgive me if I got too rambly or did anything wrong ^^ Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this! And I hope your day is good / you had a good day, depending on when you read this, ehe!

Hey! Sorry if the wait has been long! I also love Warrior Cats (I promise myself, one day I'll finish it.)

You received... A Pyro vision! Optimistic, enthusiastic, impulsive, reckless, and a lot of energy are the general characteristics held by the Pyro vision. • I hesitated between the Pyro and Hydro vision, but your energy distinguishes you from the Hydro vision. • You said you were impulsive, always doing something you might regret later but still doing it. • You react quickly: as you said, if somebody hurt someone you love, you won't think twice before barking. Your partner would be... Xingqiu! “This feeling was unexpected.” • At first, you were just friends, and Xingqiu really loved to tease you. Actually, you both teased each other. But eventually, a feeling of love towards you grew into Xingqiu. And that was reciprocated. • Your relationship is filled with teases, jokes, and good/funny moments where you mostly share what you commonly appreciate. • He also knows when to get serious: for example, he does everything to support you during your moments of struggle concerning your self-esteem. Your friend would be... Childe! “Luckily, I'm here!” • You two also share funny moments, especially during situations where your “stupidity” is overtaken by his insight. • Sometimes, he finds you cute. • He likes the fact that you get along well with kids. It leads you to great moments with him and his siblings. • You're quite the opposite in terms of self-esteem. I think it's a good thing because it makes you complementary. Your enemy would be... Albedo! A misunderstanding. • You wouldn't hate each other, but I think Albedo wouldn't like the way you use your energy, and when you're more in a chill mood (meaning you're more available for him to talk), he could get pissed at how much times he'd have to repeat himself for you to understand something. • He's very patient, but he understood quickly that his interests would maybe not be within your reach. • You would just be too different. Worth to mention • You and Venti are like drama queens in Mondstadt. You are good friends. But you both know that you can't be more, as it would eventually both drag you down (because of similar problems). • Klee is also your best friend: both of you share decisions that you definitely will regret later. Or maybe not. • Hu tao and you are kinds of silently competing over who's the best tease, and she beats you. My goal is definitely not achieved. I hope I can catch up tomorrow. And don't worry, it was surprisingly good for a first description!

#genshin request #genshin matchups #genshin #genshin impact

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paradise-creator · 4 years ago

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Hellooo!! I love love LOVE the diamond box matchup you did!! You're amazing!! Your blog is incredible!! Now I'm here for a romantic haven box Haikyuu matchup pls🥺

Appearance: My name is Kay! She/her, black, straight, 5'1, I have a slightly athletic & curvy-ish figure (lol idk), short-ish hair(like mid-neck), dark brown eyes, shoe size 9, I like to dress comfy so I'm always in oversized hoodies, sweatpants, sneakers, sweatshirts and shorts. I like colorful clothes too, high waisted jeans and shorts and boots. I'm not very fashionable but I try lol.

Personality:

Basics: infp-t, Hufflepuff, Taurus sun, scorpio moon, sanguine, chaotic good, ambivert.

Some positive traits: I'm optimistic, friendly, energetic, organized, enthusiastic, observant, happy, open-minded, loving, encouraging and inquisitive!!

Some negative traits: I'm annoying, perfectionist, insecure, forgetful, easily distracted, kinda lazy, argumentative, too nice at times and clingy.

I love learning new things!! Currently I'm learning Korean, how to draw, how to paint and songs on the saxophone.

When I'm up for it, I love fun physical activity!! Going for a hike, going to the gym, bungee jumping, mountain climbing, going camping and etc :D

Although I love going out, nothing beats lazy days at home. I can spend hours by myself and still be happy. When alone I usually sleep or watch a movie/anime or practice my drawing or saxophone or try and learn something new!

I have a horrible memory and can never remember important dates �� I've forgotten my own birthday a few times (rip) so people can get mad at me for missing appointments, forgetting birthdays and other important days. I try my best to organize everything necessary on my phone calendar so I can be reminded.

I love seeing people happy! Nothing can fulfill my day more than knowing I put a smile on someone's face! I usually try my best to help out anyone who needs it and to the best of my ability! This has led to me getting taken advantage of in the past but I can't help but try and make others happy. I've developed a thicker skin and some trust issues as I've grown up because of it.

I love hyping my friends/family up!! Do you need a boost in confidence? Here I am, ready to help you remember the absolute king/queen/royalty that you are!! I'm usually very energetic and enthusiastic about many things and I love spreading positivity around!!

My love language is physical touch! So touch is very important to me in my relationships. Though I am insecure so I tend to think that I smother the people I care about with too much affection idk lol. I live for hugs and cuddles and hand holding 👉🏿👈🏿 but because of that I feel like I'm very clingy and annoying skskfksjd

I'm introverted in nature so although I mean usually full of energy and love making new friends, I can't do it for too long lol. My social battery runs out really fast and I have to hide away and recharge before I can be fully social again, otherwise I won't be my best self. I treasure personal time and understand when people need time for themselves too.

I love spontaneity!! I love living in the moment and doing stuff just for the hell of it!! Wanna go on a road trip? Dance in the rain? Build houses for charity? Go to McDonald's at 2am? Go on a long walk? SIGN ME UP!!

I can also be lazy and unmotivated to do stuff. If something doesn't interest me, I'd find myself incapable of doing it or I'd do it with great difficulty. I'm one of those 'do something when inspiration/motivation hits you otherwise it'll be absolute shit' types.

But when I do have motivation/inspiration that's when my perfectionism comes in and I have to do it in the best possible way and anything less is an insult to me, my family, my ancestors and descendants lmaoo. Unfortunately I subconsciously set a very high bar for myself which can be overwhelming and stressful but when I manage to produce work of that quality, it's very satisfying and rewarding jshkshdhsj

I have more to add but I feel like this is getting way too long 💀 lemme just move to the next section heheheh

Hobbies: I LOVE listening to music, learning new things, watching movies/anime, sleeping, reading, writing, playing saxophone (I'm still learning tho lol), swimming, drawing, journaling, making friends, and cooking!

My music taste: any type of rock (punk rock, grunge, j-rock, metal), pop, KPOP, RnB, jazz, dubstep, lofi hip hop, rap, trap, krnb, anime OP's and bangers from: Elvis, the beach boys, Queen, Khalid, Ateez, Harry styles, Kendrick Lamar, p!atd, mcr, fallout boy, Nirvana, BTS, mxmtoon, Marianas trench, twenty one pilots, stray kids, Jay Park, crush, Dreamcatcher, Skrillex, MJ, troye sivan etc

Fun facts:

I'm more of a cat person but I live dogs and think they're adorable!!

I have four piercings and I plan on getting more soon!!

I'm a night owl, and get super grumpy in the mornings especially when woken up unexpectedly >:/

Although I love making friends, I only have like 1/2 super close friends and like 20+ acquaintances lol

I want to get a tattoo soon but idk what to get :(

I'm super addicted to coffee (rip) and if I don't take some for some time (like a week) I'll get the worst migraines and I won't feel better until I drink some coffee 😭

That's it!! I hope i wrote enough stuff!! Did I leave anything out? If you need more pls tell me and I'll send another ask :D Take your time!! I'm in no rush. I'll patiently wait even though you get writers block or have a large amount of asks 😌 pls stay safe and healthy!! Drink lots of water, sleep well and have an amazing day/night!! 💙✨

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Hello and Welcome my Starlight!

The Haven box includes:

- Match up

- Sun drop

- Journal of Feelings

- 3 am shenanigans

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I'd match you up with

Sugawara Koushi, Vice-captain of Karasuno

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Sun drops

- OKAY so like, as I read your description I thought of Akaashi or Yaku or Sugawara

- Me being the indecisive author I am had trouble picking

- But then I remembered that you loved to do spontaneous things.

- And that's when I realized that Sugawara is THE ONE

- You two would be deemed the "3 am couple"

- Or in the team it would be "Epitome of Chaos"

- He takes care of you

- He will alway remind you that you don't need to be perfect

- Insecurities? BE GONE

- Nagativity? BE GONE

- That's basically his motto

- He is both your mom and partner in Crime

- did I mention he will take care of you?

- CUDDLES AND KISSES FOR DAYS

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Journal of feelings

- Once this man realizes that you LOVE physical affection. He will give it to you. EVERYTIME HE SEES YOU

Kay entered the gym to watch her boyfriend play. She tried sneaking in and so far it has been great. She thought she was off the hook but then felt a familiar arms wrapped around her waist. "I found you~" Sugawara said with a smile.

- You both would often plan pranks and majority of the times, it would succeed

"Okay okay, so what are we doing today?" Kay asked the silver haired male. "Oh~ maybe we can scare Asahi or anyone for that matter with a beetle?" Sugawara suggested. "That's--no," Kay responded.

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3 am shenanigans

It’s 3 am in the morning. Almost everyone is fast asleep or in their homes, well almost. The night sky is littered with diamond in the sky. The streets were silent but it was comforting. A few people walked here and there. And a few cars passes by there and here. “What are we doing up so late?” A silver haired man said as he yawned. “We’ll be going to Mc Donald’s! What else?” The female responded as she smiled at him. “Is it even open at this time?” He asked. “Koushi, darling, it is open,” Kay, the lover of our beloved silvered male man said as she smiled. Sugawara chuckled and held her hand, the smile on his face was evident. “You know, we should be sleeping by now right?” He said as he pulled her closer. “And so what? I wasn’t planning on sleeping early! I slept the whole day yesterday and missed the chance to hang out with you,” The girl responded.

A small blush appeared on the male’s face and he giggled. “That’s very sweet bu-“ He was about to say but was silenced by the girl. “That was very sweet but we could’ve done this later on or tomorrow. Well, sorry to break it to you, Love. But, we are here,” She said as she pulled the male inside the fast food chain. And soon enough, the two got their orders and enjoyed their meal. “I don’t know why but this hits different,” Kay said as she eat a French fry. “It really does. Especially since you are here,” Sugawara stated as he patted her head. Now, she was the one blushing. As the two chatted, the other customers and staff glanced at them every now and then. None of them were annoyed at their interactions. On the contrary, they enjoyed watching them,

Some felt envious of their relationship. Some dreamt to have something like that. And others remembered the times of old. The two were so sweet, it’s almost too much. Laughter and chattering echoed through the building from both the couple and the people around them. Then they were dub the “3 am couple” as the two would often venture in that restaurant at 3 am in the morning.

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Author's note

I'm so so sorry for the long wait! This week has been hectic. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this matchup~ and thanks for requesting!

#☁️matchup #haikyuu matchups #haikyuu!!#haikyuu matchup #fanfic #anime #fiction #sugawara koushi #sugawara kōshi #Sugawara #sugawara headcanon #match ups #hq matchups #hq sugawara #Anime matchups #BlackPearl

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irwintry · 6 years ago

Text

What Happens in Paris

Warnings: swearing, alcohol

Author’s Note: STAYs in paris!!!!!!!!!!!! anyway sorry i’m so Bad at writing anything good

also request for part two k bc i have ideas but like, i didnt want this to be so long

Word Count: 5k

part two

“It’s like, ten bucks, mate.”

Luke snorted. “For a fuckin’ scam, yeah.”

“Ya aren’t curious?”

“Y’know me,” he said. “I have a pair of five-hundred-dollar shoes in my closet that I’ve never worn. If I was curious, I’d be sittin’ in there with my head in my hands like an eager kid. Not doin’ it.”

Calum rolled his eyes. “Don’t you wanna know if you and that chic are gonna get back together? Just ten bucks.”

Luke sighed and glanced over at the pink neon “Psychic” sign that illuminated the stairs before them. The night had been rough–– breaking up and binge drinking followed by a muzzy stroll in back neighborhoods he had never visited before. The vibrant letters swirled and eddied around, and before Luke could catch himself, he began walking down the steps.

Calum let out a laugh. “All right, here we fuckin’ go.”

There was an overwhelming musty scent that filled Luke’s nostrils as stepped into the small apartment. He imagined it hardly smelled of anything at all, but his imagination was so strong, and the toxins in his blood were too intense. The couches and chairs were covered in large silk sheets and tapestries, and soft jazz music was playing from an Anker speak on the coffee table.

“Celebrities,” a low female voice said from a kitchen. She stepped out, tea kettle in hand and a smirk on her face. “That’s not a first.”

She was younger than what Luke expected, but a few laugh lines decorated the corners by her eyes. However, she spoke like a middle-aged smoker from Brooklyn. Her hair was in thick, red curls, and he imagined the difficulty of taming it–– he had trouble taming his own curls on the occasion.

“Take a seat,” she said, setting down the kettle on a doily in the center of a table. “You need it.”

Luke was unsure of the woman, but Calum was more eager to have his life spelled out for him. He nearly kicked the chair out from under him as he sat on the wicker beside a big, dusty fern.

“Tea?”

“Yes––

“No,” said Luke, his eyes narrowing in on his friend next to him.

The woman chuckled and began pouring hot water into two teacups. “Earl gray for you,” she said to Calum, and then she looked at Luke. “And rose for you.”

There was a knot forming in the pit of his stomach, and it grew larger as the teacup slid in his direction. The woman, who Luke would later know as Gina, sat across from the two of them and smiled. She spoke with her hands, and he found himself focusing in on the fluidity of the motions.

“I like the energy in this room,” she said. “It’s–– it’s light and positive. But there are some... interruptions. Like the positive is interacting with a negative, and it’s creating this ugly––aaughh––amalgamation.” Her eyes fell to Luke. “You. You haven’t been a good person.”

“What?” he asked, his voice reaching a high register while his friend laughed beside him.

The woman grinned. He didn’t like her grin. “Don’t act so surprised. Y-you have good qualities, eh, y’know? You love people and you always have. But you feel a lot of power. And, look at ya, honey. Money is a big part of that. You live in a constant cycle of excitement and stress, and the people that come and go in your life are greatly affected by you. But ya haven’t been good to them!”

“This is fuckin’ bullshit,” said Luke as he stood. “I don’t need this.”

“And you’re sad!”

“What?”

“But you’re too sad to realize you’re sad,” she continued. “There is a person in your life who is conflictin’ you. I’m sensing that they don’t mean much to you righ’ now, but the more you are around them, the more you will question who you are. Drink your fuckin’ tea.”

Luke huffed and returned to his seat. “What the fuck is happening,” he muttered, but it wasn’t a question. Calum was still stifling a laugh.

“They don’t like you right now,” the woman continued. “It is radiating off of you like fuckin’ UV rays, honey. They will mess with your feelings as you struggle to figure out your own. And–– “

“What is this shit?” Luke asked. “Like, what are you even telling me? Why is this person important to me?”

The woman chuckled darkly. “You’re going to fall in love with them, honey.”

“Who the fuck invited you?”

“I the fuck invited me,” you replied, hands folded across your chest as you brushed by the tall blond. “I’m here to see Cal, ya dipshit. I’m getting his house key.”

Luke let out a huff and pushed the front door shut behind him. The night before tour was a night full of traditions, and nearly all of his close friends participated in the so-called rituals. You, however, were not his friend. You were Ashton and Michael’s, and especially Calum’s, but you were not, under any circumstance, Luke’s friend. So, of all nights for you to drop by unexpectedly, it had to be the night of pre-tour traditions.

“Still didn’t fucking invite you,” he called after you, but you had already made your way into the kitchen where the group gathered. “Jesus fuckin’–– “

A loud chorus of “aye”’s and “hey”’s filled the room as you entered. He ambled in after you, his shoulders tight while he watched you go around and hug the people he was closest to. They all loved you, he knew that. And, he hated that.

“Ya didn’t tell me you invited Y/N,” said Ashton. He nudged his friend teasingly before adding in a wink. “When d’ya get the hots for her?”

Luke glared at him. “I’d run onto the 405 naked before I would ever consider even hugging her.”

“Damn, ‘kay then.” Ashton chuckled. He walked back towards the kitchen island where their mates were eating.

The traditions were light. They were simple, relaxing things that the band never had the chance to do, like movie nights and large orders of Uber Eats. Most nights, they went out and experienced life like typical chumps would do. But pre-tour traditions meant R&R, and you were not R&R.

To Luke, it seemed as though the rest of his friends enjoyed your company. His blood boiled at the thought of his night being ruined by you. His friends would tell him to avoid you and not let you spoil his fun, but he simply could avoid the frustration building while you laughed at stupid jokes. He would be laughing to had he actually cared for your company. If he kicked you out, it would ruin the night for his friends. Because of you, Luke really could not win.

And then, you said, “well, I gotta bounce. Am I dropping by your place at around nine tomorrow, Cal?”

To this, Luke nearly beamed.

“Nine on the dot,” responded Calum as he tilted his drink towards you.

“Cool beans.”

Another friend interjected the conversation. “C’mon, you can stay for a bit, can’t you? Maybe Luke will finally be the one to win the tattoo draw. Bet you’d pay to see that.”

Luke could feel perspiration under his arms at the thought of you staying and being touched by a needle.

“Tattoo draw?” you asked, dangling the key to Calum’s house between your fingers.

“Tattoo draw,” Michael affirmed. “Whoever won, well, lost the draw last time picks a tattoo for the next person who’s drawn. They’re small tattoos, but they’re often fuckin’ shit. I have a tattoo of Cal’s response to his dick pick on the back of my thigh.”

“That was so long ago,” someone piped.

You chortled. “No offense, but these pre-tour traditions are kinda–– “

“Oh, they’re lame,” interrupted Michael, “we know. But they’re fucking funny when you’re high out of your mind.”

You glanced over to Luke, who felt as though he was sweating like a pig, then back at the group of friends before you. “I’m in.”

Luke had contributed $200 to the pool. Throughout the past few years, the total money in the pot increased as the band’s fame continued moving up. And still, even after all of this time, he had been fortunate to not have his name drawn. The only bonus was the cash prize–– and you were also inked for the rest of your life.

But it wasn’t all that bad. It would be a memory, and Luke was fond of memories.

The anger that followed your presence had begun to fade as the night went on. Thoughts were foggy, words were garbled, and laughter filled the concrete walls and penetrated the thick, cloudy rooms. Plenty of crap foods had been consumed, plus two bottles of whiskey, by the time names were drawn.

You were right, Luke thought. Everything about the traditions were lame, and they were only routine because of their old teenage minds. The hazier he felt, the more he became lost in his own brain.

And then your name was drawn.

He had to keep himself from bursting into screeching laughter. It was easy to read the pure terror written all over your features from your wide eyes to your deep frown. Ashton, who had been last tour’s tattoo winner, nudged you playfully.

“’s all right, babe,” he said. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t wanna. Someone will be glad to do it for ya, I’m sure.”

You stared at the money pool on the coffee table before you. “I get all of that?”

Ashton nodded.

“You promise the tattoo’ll be small?

“Microscopic.”

You sighed. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Luke kept quiet for the next half hour as the group waited for the arrival of the tattoo artist. He watched your face, how it contorted and how it relaxed. He was hyper-focused on every little line and detail of your skin, and it was all because of how your demeanor changed. You appeared vulnerable now, a stark contrast to what Luke had known for nearly a year. You were witty. You were always ready to tear someone down with words when necessary. But now, you were nervous. You weren’t the same.

It bothered him tremendously.

Things only went downhill from there. Ashton, being the cocky bloke he occasionally could be, had a brilliant idea.

“I know how much you love Luke,” he said, an odd smirk toying on his lips as he exchanged glances between the two of you. “I want you to get his name tattooed.”

Luke choked on his glass of whiskey.

You snorted. “Nope. That’s a funny one, Irwin.”

“No money for ya then.”

“I don’t even know how much is in there,” you said. Meanwhile, the artist looked less than pleased to be here, and Luke didn’t blame him.

Calum winced and said, “’bout four thousand, babe. It’s a pretty big one this year.”

You gaped, mouth falling wide as you glared at Luke, who, truth be told, had no say in the situation. As much as he didn’t want his name on your body, it would have been kind of funny otherwise.

“I’ll shoot you a proposition,” said Ashton, his foot landing on the chair beside your thigh so he could lean over you. “Instead of his full name, just get his initials. L-R-H.”

Luke hated this.

“That’s–– “ You looked at Luke again, almost as if you were waiting for his approval. He didn’t speak. ‘That’s not so bad.”

Ashton grinned.

“Where would I get it?”

“Under-boob!” a voice called out from behind Luke.

A few groans washed through the group, and even Luke felt upset with the suggestion. He hated you, but he didn’t hate you that much.

“You shut your fuckin’ face, Stevens,” you responded, and that caused Luke to smile. There was the old you.

Ashton shrugged. “Anywhere you want it.”

And then, after looking Luke dead in the eyes for the thousandth time that night, you smirked. Finally, a rush of confidence flooded over you, and it chilled him to his very core. He didn’t understand why it cut right through his chest, and then you said, “under-boob it is.”

Luke decided he would no longer hold anything back. He hated you through and through.

Luke kept his mouth shut when his friends mentioned you. He kept it shut when they called you and talked about inside jokes. He kept it shut when they drunkenly stated they missed you. But when the Paris tour date came around and you were seated at their brunch table, he couldn’t keep himself from saying, “why the fuck are you here?”

And his friends were quick to defend, just like Luke expected. At that moment, it finally hit him that it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t be himself around you. It didn’t matter that he was the only one uncomfortable with your presence. It didn’t matter, because Luke finally realized he had no reason to feel this way. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling.

Maybe he didn’t hate you. Maybe his blood just boiled because everyone loved you, and he didn’t love you. Maybe he found frustration in every one of your actions because he was the only one who couldn’t enjoy himself when you were there. Maybe he just had to take two seconds to get over himself and let others be happy.

Luke sunk in his seat, eyes glued on the condensation on the side of his mimosa glass while his friends chatted and laughed. He thumbed his napkin, powdered sugar coating his fingers once more. For the first time since knowing you, Luke felt guilty for treating you the way he did.

He didn’t speak for the next hour and a half. And, when he did speak, it was a word or two at a time, gaze cast to the roads once painted in the blood of the French Revolution. He wasn’t much up for going out on the town when night fell–– it was better he preserved his voice for the concert tomorrow anyway. Instead, he remained in his tiny hotel room, sweaty feet kicked up on the thousand-thread duvet while a French dubbed Iron Man 2 played on his television. At one point, he ordered himself room service, and the apple cobbler plus a sparkling bottle of white wine were too big for him to finish alone.

And somehow, as if it were fate, there was a soft knock on his door.

Luke stumbled over, slightly buzzed already as he looked through the dirty peephole to see you. He swung the door open.

“Why’re you here?” he asked, surprisingly without a swear. “Thought you were with the rest.”

You glanced behind him. “I smelled apple cobbler,” you said. A shrug and a smirk later, you made your way past him.

Luke rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him. “Didn’t invite you in.”

You were already sat on the opposite twin bed, hand reaching for the fancy bottle on the nightstand before taking a long swig of the bubbly drink.

“Why’re you here?” he repeated.

“I–– “ You let out a satisfied sigh and set the bottle down. “I got tired. Got in an Uber pool with this gorgeous dude who kept using the words très belle, and then I remembered you were home.”

Luke sat on his bed and quirked an eyebrow at you. “You got tired and came here? What, are you on crack?”

You laughed, and he kind of did, too.

“Y’hate me,” he said. “You’re not here without reason.”

You raised your hands in surrender. “Kay,” you said, “ya got me. I wanna make out with you. Have a lil bang-bang-bang action.”

Luke had to keep himself from chuckling again. “Shut the fuck up.”

You grinned; your eyes were brighter than he had ever seen them around him. The two of you were both a little tipsy, and he chose to blame that for him not being totally upset with you invading his quiet night.

Things fell silent for a moment, and he let himself get lost in the foreign dialogue of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.

“Why do you hate me?”

Luke’s head snapped over to you. You were relaxed, legs spread on the leg before you with your back against the headboard, and you were still facing the television. The bottle of wine was now in between your thighs.

“I wanted to be your friend so badly,” you said. “When I got your number, I put a little heart next to your name. And then, you never answered me when I tried to text you. You started rolling your eyes at everything I said, even when I was just walkin’ up to greet you. I thought my occasional teasing was just harmless. Is that–– is that why you hate me?”

Luke frowned. He had no idea what to say, especially since he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, and you couldn’t even look at him.

“I-I guess I just need you to tell me that my efforts are pointless,” you mumbled, hands reaching out to pick up the bottle from between your legs. “I feel stupid even bein’ around ya now.”

“No,” he said, “I don’t hate you. I’m sorry.”

Finally, you looked his way. “Let’s get drunk.”

The night muddled through, and to Luke’s surprise, he hadn’t had simple fun like that in ages. In your beautiful drunken stupor, you spoke your best French, although it came out as slurred gibberish while you danced around to the soundtrack from the movie Mannequin. His stomach ached from laughter, and at one point, he even joined you. He didn’t think twice about his hands lazily resting on your hips while the two of you passed the second bottle of wine around. The phone rang at about one in the morning; it was a lovely call from the front desk about a noise complaint.

Luke giggled around you. Colors and shapes swirled around him a little more than usual, and your touch burned his already-hot skin. By the time endorphins calmed and the night slowed to a stop, deep conversations met pillow talk. He was hesitant to speak on behalf of his feelings, but you were keen on sharing your entire life story and traumas with him. You cried, and he let it be on his shoulder. He chose to talk about himself for once, to get the pressure off of you. Cuddling became tickling, and soon enough, the two of you were shouting lyrics to “Beat Patrol” with uncontrollable laughter once again. When you said goodnight, your arms tossed themselves around his waist as you pecked his flushed cheeks. And then you were gone, and he decided he didn’t like the absence.

He didn’t forget about it the next day. You were quiet, and you kept your distance, so he did the same. But something had changed, that he knew. It pricked at his stomach, and when you hopped aboard a flight the next day after that, he realized he missed you. It was funny how a mere few hours could change a mind.

“Do you think Y/N was the one that psychic talked about?”

“What?”

Calum had been silently chewing on a cold slice of pizza when the question hit his brain. Luke, on the other hand, was washing down his midnight meal with a bottle of beer. The tour had been over for about a week, and they had all been sleeping for days straight. Well, all except for Luke, who found himself unable to close his eyes while he tried not to think about that one night with you. It was one fucking night. By this point, nearly all of the events had vanished from his mind, but he couldn’t shake the honest happiness he felt while singing along to cheesy songs from the 1980s. He couldn’t get over your impromptu stand-up comedy show and your terrible John Mulaney impression.

“The psychic, Gina,” said Calum. “You remember that, right?”

“Yeah,” Luke replied, a little wary of where the conversation was headed.

Calum straightened his posture and slapped the pizza back down onto the greasy cardboard box. “D’ya think Y/N is who she was talking about?”

“I–– “ Luke thought for a moment as he racked his brain. He hadn’t mentioned that night with you to anyone, but they all knew his prior distaste for you. Now, he couldn’t help but think of the accuracy of the psychic’s testament. You didn’t like him, he didn’t like you, but now he kind of did like you. “No,” he said, “not a chance. It’s Y/N. Fuckin’ hate her.”

Calum nodded. A frown pulled at his lips. “She’s great, mate. Y’oughta give her a chance.”

Luke had given you a chance, and it worked all too well.

“Maybe you’ll fall in love with her.”

The blond snorted. “I can’t even be in the same room as her, Cal. Don’t see romantic escapades in our future. No–– no drunken late-nights with comedy impressions and Starship dance-offs.”

“’s oddly specific, but okay,” said Calum. He shut the pizza box a moment later and slid it back into the fridge, and meanwhile, Luke felt a pit growing in his stomach. “You’re too stubborn,” his friend continued. “And ugly. Like, too damn ugly for her anyway.”

Luke smirked, tilting his beer in Calum’s direction. “Cheers to that, mate.”

Through the dying laughter, Luke’s smile fell into a frown, and he couldn’t quite grasp the reason why. It was possible that the idea of falling for someone like you didn’t seem so terrible after all.

A few dozen people had gathered in the backyard by the time you arrived. Luke spent the first hour of the party cradling a beer, keeping himself out of sight on the porch but in view of the pool. His shirt had already become unbuttoned, and his curls had loosened and stuck flat against his skin due to the humidity in the hot air. And you... you looked marvelous.

Luke had been so focused on trying not to think about you, he ended up thinking about you every hour of every day. He caught himself scrolling through your Instagram page after failing to fall asleep, and he thought about what would have happened had you stayed in his hotel room a little longer. When your face popped into his brain, his heart hurt. He had started to idealize the two of you together–– exactly what he hadn’t wanted.

So, he isolated himself in the kitchen after your arrival, a series of nonconsecutive thoughts whirling through his head while he chipped away at the sticker on his warm beer. The party was outside, and he was in there, wondering how on earth he let himself start falling for the person he never wanted to know.

“I told Calum to queue up some Starship.”

Your voice was confident as you slid the back door closed behind you. Luke focused on your footsteps, but he refused to turn around as you approached him.

“If I can’t jam to some “Beat Patrol”, then honestly, what’s the point of being here?” you continued with a light laugh. You were grinning from ear to ear when you placed yourself in front of Luke, the close proximity causing him to hold in a gasp.

He cracked a smile. “Who invited you?”

“I invited myself,” you replied, “thank you very much.” You tilted your drink in his direction before taking a quick sip and setting it beside Luke’s on the counter. “The question is: why are you in here alone, bud? Lookin’ so glum n’ all.”

Luke’s heartbeat had begun to pick up, and humidity from the outside had seeped its way into the kitchen. He placed his palms on his pants to dry them off.

You frowned–– he had taken too long to answer. “You okay?”

He nearly jumped at the feeling of your hand brushing against his arm, and then he noticed that you had moved slightly closer. “I–– “ Luke coughed. “’m fine.” The weight on his arm never left.

“C-can I ask you something?” you spoke up again after a few moments of silence. You didn’t wait for his answer. “Do you hate me?”

His eyes met yours, despite the pain settling in his chest because of the contact. “You’ve asked me that before,” he said and smirked.

“I know,” you said quickly. “But, do you?”

Luke shook his head. “No. I could–– I could never.”

You nodded.

He nearly leaned in a little. The heavy tension and spike in energy tilted his body and its weight on the balls of his feet, but he held back in fear. All he wanted to do was see how you felt beneath his touch.

“Okay,” you then mumbled. Your voice was hushed, and you refused to look at him again. Somehow, the distance between the two of you shrunk once again.

Luke swallowed. His fingers played with the neck of his half-empty bottle; they spun it around and around while his brain told him what to do and what not to do.

And then, the hand that had been grazing his arm moved up to rest on his chest, and Luke restrained himself from completely losing himself in you. It was as if the music from the world outside had been sucked into a vacuum, and the air around him was dense with heat and sexual tension, but he could only notice your breath ghosting his lips. There was something about the nudging of noses and fluttering of eyelids that pushed him over the edge. So, when your lips finally met in a soft, velvety kiss, he couldn’t hold back the desire that had been building up for months.

While your hands plaited through his hair, Luke’s were firm on your waist. He had pulled you into him, all previous thoughts out the door while your lips slotted against his. It was wet yet warm, and a familiar sensation tightened in his abdomen. His cheeks were hot and pink–– that he knew for sure.

But you pulled away quickly, gasps falling as you sputtered out apologies. “I shouldn’t–– that was–– weird, right?”

Luke wanted to shake his head no, but instead, all he could do was nod.

“We–– we hate ea–– I’m sorry,” you said, grabbing your beer quickly and making a b-line for the sliding glass door.

Underneath Luke’s eyes, the skin burned, but he quickly shook it off. He wasn’t going to cry because you walked out on him. He was, however, disheartened tremendously.

The rest of the night, he spent his time avoiding you. Truth be told, he spent his time avoiding everyone. He loitered around his practice room, used the bathroom for twenty minutes, and locked himself in his room until the crowd outside died down. No one bothered to check up on him, not even you. It was when he had come to terms with his isolation that you knocked on his door and stumbled in. Immediately, he knew you had a few too many drinks.

Neither of you said a word as you ambled over, giggles leaving your lips before you flopped onto his bed beside him. Pillows flew and the duvet slipped to the floor, but Luke didn’t care. In the beginning, he never wanted to picture you in his bed–– it made him sick to think about. But then he purposefully avoided the thought, for he simply knew he’d find himself wanting to picture it more and more. So now, he had to keep his stomach from knotting. He had to keep himself from looking over and spilling out a word-vomit of feelings that he didn’t even want to have.

And then, you started touching his face.

At first, Luke wanted to laugh. You were cute albeit clumsy, yet the silence and evident tension settled in his shoulders, and every graze of your fingers on his flushed skin sent shivers up his spine. Fingers running over cheeks and closed eyelids, your touch so gentle he could barely feel it, but he did. You brushed the ridge of his brows, the curve of his nose, and finally, the dip of his cupid’s bow. He couldn’t breathe as you lightly traced the soft skin of his lips.

His lips felt cold once your fingers left, but they soon skimmed the hollowing of his cheeks back down to where his lips parted in a silent gasp. You pressed one finger against the separation of skin, and he kissed it gently. Then, you placed another finger there, and he continued.

Luke wanted to shoo your hand away. He blinked up at the ceiling while your hand traveled down his Adam’s Apple and onto his collarbones. Your touch was so light, so beautiful–– he was completely enamored at this moment. He had to clench his jaw while your hand traced the hairs on his chest.

The weight in his bed shifted, and suddenly your body was wedged up against his, your nose nudging his chest as you peppered kisses up and down it. Luke’s heart rate decided to make a break for it.

“No, no, no,” he breathed out, reaching over and pushing you away from him. He rose instantly while his hands fumbled to button up his shirt. It would be obvious to anyone as to how utterly flustered he was. “No, you can’t–– you can’t do that to me.”

You grinned. “Why not? Yer so pretty! Like a fuckin’ angel that fell from heaven. You glow.”

“I-I don’t–– no, what?” Luke sputtered, nerves rising to his throat as he finally got a good look at you in your drunken state. He already knew what you were like drunk, but he never saw you like this while sober.

“Ya deserves to be kissed,” you said.

Luke wanted to smile; except he couldn’t have things end up this way. He felt so much, maybe too much, and he wanted it to be good. You had hardly blinked.

“Um,” Luke whispered, “thanks. I–– I should–– I should check on the party.”

“Oh, yeah!” you squeaked. “Go, go, go!”

He nodded, excusing himself quickly and then shutting the door behind him. But he couldn’t walk any farther than that. With a sigh, he pressed his back against the door and looked down to his feet. Every muscle in his body tensed and relaxed while his brain went black. Luke didn’t know what to think. He wasn’t sure he would ever know how to admit how he felt. However, he did know that needed to pay a certain psychic a visit.

part two

417 notes · View notes

alitheamateur · 6 years ago

Text

The Grind- Chapter 8

Warnings: Language. Fluff.

A/N: OHHHH, CHAPTER 8, HOW I LOVE YOU. This is one of my favorite chapters in the entire book, and I only hope you do enjoy it! It’s Colton and Liv, intimately behind closed doors, just how I like them. AND, DRUM ROLL.....You’ll even get a little insight into the mind of our boy Colton Ritter!!!

(GIFS FROM GOOGLE)

I hadn’t attempted to track Colton down once the weigh in concluded. He had hands to shake, and plenty of pictures to pose for. And as for me, there were a few colleagues I needed to speak with amongst the mass of people as well, before stealing away to him upstairs. Kate was on the list, a reporter for one of the local television news stations, who happened to live in the same apartment complex as I did. We weren’t tight pals by any means, but always spoke in passing every morning before work, and there was the occasional invitation to her flat for a drink to unwind. As a matter of fact, it seemed unwinding was precisely what Kate had in mind this particular evening, too. Her whining insistence on sharing a Cosmo in the lounge wouldn’t cease unless I caved. But, I was certain to make it a clear point that I only had time for ONE quick drink, and discreetly sent Colton a text to inform him I may be arriving a little behind schedule.

As promised, Kate let me part after a single drink order and some simple small talk over some perfectly salted mixed nuts. We exchanged predictions on how we thought tomorrow night would go and where she had bought the camel colored satchel bag she was displaying in the seat next to her. Then, out of the sheer goodness of my heart, I even sat quietly listening to the horror story of her latest blind date mishap. Bless that poor girl, she really was a catch. Confident, very intelligent, lightyears ahead of other anchors in the city her age. To most men though, her every quality was one that intimidated their sensitive ego, making it a struggle to find a match who would encourage her success, rather than smother it.

I left her alone in the bar with her sorrows, honestly feeling a bit bad for abandoning her to drown them, then aimlessly wandered to find the elevator. Thankfully, I reach Colton’s floor without any company in the confines of the metal box. Creepy, awkward elevator conversation was #4 on the list of things I hated as much as cherry licorice. I walked down the lengthy hallway lined with plum and green patterned carpet, then patted two light knocks on room 1893, and waited zealously. My toes patted in anticipation, and my lips buzzed a bit from the leftover coating of my stout Cosmopolitan. The door opened surprisingly quick after my tapping by a handsome fellow adorning a pair of light grey boxer shorts.

“Damn, I was really hopin’ you were that pizza I ordered from downstairs.”

I kicked the door open further sending him back to hit the papered wall to the left, and he snuffled from a closed mouth grin.

“Sorry to disappoint,” I snarled. “And come on now, Ritter. You can’t be opening your door looking like that. You’ll have the maids brawling for who gets to bring up your extra towels.” I gestured a hand toward him, alluding to his quite painfully sexy, underwear model-esque appearance.

The tv was muted on ESPN, only a gold desk lamp casting light into the rather large room. A king size bed stationed closest to the wall with the double windows, covers unturned, and curtains drawn. Faint music danced over my ears, something from the classic rock genre. Journey, maybe? Our taste in music had thankfully been another similarity discovered sometime in the days of our courtship. I bent over removing one shoe at a time, to hurl them in the corner. I so loved my beautiful collection of pumps, but my feet could only take small doses. My ankles begged for my past preference of high-top tennis to return.

“So, I thought we’d just hang out in bed. Watch a movie or somethin’? I kinda just wanna relax. Unless you wanna go out? I can get dressed.” His words offered to go out, but his crooked eyebrow & pursed lips said otherwise.

“Staying in is perfect, babe. As long as you promise to share that pizza you’ve got comin’. Black olives?”

“Yep. Jalapeños only on my half.” It was miracle. I had found a man who compromised on the most important thing in my life. Food.

“You know the way to my heart, Colt.” I smoothed tiny circles with my flattened hand over the comforter of the bed, enticing him to join me. Rather than lightly crawling up next to me, he lunged wildly to flop weightlessly in the empty spot.

“I brought ya’ a t-shirt if you wanna change. It’s in my bag by the bathroom, I think. Figured you’d be wearin’ one of those sexy lil’ business suits you’re always prancin’ around in t’ torture me.” He reiterated his remark by grazing the small line of my exposed stomach. “I didn’t want cha’ to be uncomfortable all night.”

“All night? Is that an invitation? Whatever on earth would make you think I’d want to spend the night in this gorgeous hotel room with you, Colton?” I threw a hand to my chest and closed my eyes in a prudish manner.

“ ‘Cause you, Liv Caroline Elliot, just cannot resist me.”

Although he was right, I wasn’t about to give in defeatedly and just admit guilt. He always gave an effort to come off so self-confident, and poised even, like he himself was the holy grail to mankind. Somewhat similar to how Mendez carried himself. But, I was well aware it was all an exterior front for the twisted, emotional mess he was inside. He was like one of those candies with the crunchy, seemingly unbreakable shell that had smooth filling in the middle. By this point I had pretty well pulverized that outer layer, and it really wasn’t as difficult as imagined.

“You’re just so sure about that, aren’t ya’? But I think I could say the same when it comes to you, my overly confident friend.” One finger prodded his flexed peck.

“I think we both know I can’t resist ya’, two-one. And I ain’t a bit scared to say so.” I had sat up ready to climb from the bed and retrieve the t-shirt he mentioned, but was immediately yanked in a near whiplash motion down on top of him. He gave me a look that I wished I could bottle up and carry in my purse every day. It was a look of total admiration, torturous passion, and loving fulfilment. There were no smiles, or laughing from either of us. The room was simply clouded with a haze of love so thick it was nearly visible to the human eye. I grazed my nose to his, not daring to disrupt the conversation our eyes were exchanging, and kissed him with opened lids. It was returned, with his addition of a spirited squeeze to my tail. One thing I had noted about Colton, was he could draw me into the deepest depths of a moment, hold it for delayed second or two, then undoubtedly jerk away from the overwhelming rush of emotion like he had been stung by an angry bee. But I’d wait for him to open the heavy iron gate to that conversation regarding his slightly detached demeanor.

“I love you, Colt.”

“And I love you, gorgeous. Now, go’n get changed. Imma pick a movie for us.”

The path of my outfit left behind me was enough payback for the little winking stunt he pulled earlier at the weigh in.

By the time I appeared from the bathroom, the pizza had been delivered, the covers turned back, a 6-pack on the night stand, and an unbelievably attractive man awaiting me. My makeup washed off and hair knotted into a messy bun, I was pant-less wearing a baggy soft t-shirt that smelled of Colton’s bodywash, and ready to sink into bed with him. I didn’t want tomorrow to come because I was certain there was no way it could measure up to this.

“Okay, so we got The Purge, or one of my personal favorites, the classic Harold & Kumar go to White Castle. You pick.”

“Shouldn’t we watch something like Fight Club, or, I don’t know… Rocky instead? That seems more your style.” I suggested raising one knee on the bed to boost myself up into the chill of the sheets. I loved the way his tanned, furry legs looked bold against the bleached white of the bedsheets.

“Although Rocky does top my movie list any day of the week, I can watch things that don’t involve fist to face violence, you punk. I ain’t a total adrenaline whore. I’ll have you know that I even saw The Notebook. Twice.” He informed me very matter of factly.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here & say that date ended very well for you.” My mouth mimicked the act of vomit thinking about the lines he cooed into the ears of that poor girl causing her to all but leap into bed with him.

“Is somebody jealous? C’mon now, babe. Past is the past.”

There had only been one suitor he had been semi-serious with previously. Her name was Amber, they dated for 6 months, and he caught her in the locker room at Mac’s in a quite compromising position with his Physical Therapist. That was really all the details he shared, & it was definitely all I needed to hear. However, I knew his lack of romantic relationships was plenty compensated by his plethora of casual sex partners. The fact that he was experienced was extremely clear to me after that night in the ring at the gym. He worked fervently taking metal notes of what dips in my skin he could kiss that caused a gentle hum of pleasure, and which ones caused an almost violent writhing. 14 partners in his twenty-six years, a number I was far from comfortable with, but it wasn’t about to send me running scared either.

“Your past just seems to be a lot more.. eventful than mine.” I admitted placing the sweating beer bottle between my greasy lips, and dropped my head in sheepish discomfort.

“First of all, you know damn well that don’t mean shit to me. You gotta think more of me than that, Livvy. ‘N second, that’s just all the more fun I get to have bein’ your little teacher, huh?” Both brows raised and fell in unison at his perverse inuendo.

“Get over yourself, PUH-LEASE.”

By this very crude point in the conversation, he’d eaten his entire hearty side of the pizza in addition to two slices of my black olive half, and I was 3 beers deep. The chatting began rolling so immensely, the tv remained off, and instead we’d left his iPod to shuffle at random through his vast array of musical tastes. We prodded question upon question about the other, shoveling for every fiber of detail we could harvest. I was stunned in utter disbelief that he had never even been out of the country, and he seemed nearly repulsed in the discovery that I still wasn’t a Steelers fan despite living in The Burgh for coming up on three years. At some point I can’t recall, he stepped from the bed to open the drawn curtains, exposing the twinkling illuminations of the still very lively city even at the hour approaching 1 a.m.

He observed the world below him like he had created this kingdom himself. Colton was Pittsburgh through and through down to the marrow, and I wouldn’t change it for all the money in the world. The grouping of blue moonlight and changing street lights coated him in a glow almost angelic. He was laid smooth on his back, a bended arm beneath is pillow, and I laid in sideways position with my head situated across the rippling muscles of his inked abdomen, his fingers twirled lazily around an escaped hair from my updo. With passing minutes his words slowly developed a raspy, almost thorny tenor and his answering and asking of questions now more dawdled. He was like a tenacious child battling the certain feeling of sleep that enraptured him, afraid he may miss a revelation of crucial importance if he dozed off.

“Baby, I know I haven’t told you, but I want ya’ to know your article is really, really excellent. And I’m damn proud a’ ya’.“

I was confused at the compliment since he hadn’t read as much as one sentence from my piece yet. “Colt, it’s not even done yet. And how would you know since you’ve yet to see it, ya’ goof.”

“It’s your work, Liv. You’re a natural, kinda like me with fighting, ya’ know? It’s what we do best. And besides, you’re always sayin’ how proud you are of me, so I want ya’ to know someone feels that way about you, too. You got no idea how amazing you really are, do ya’ girl?”

His compliments nearly made tears spill from my welling eyes. This simple, yet so utterly perplexing man loved me to his core. I could feel it in his words right that second, and in the way his scarred knuckles brushed my cheek sending a shockwave of serenity to my soul. I had never fallen so deeply for someone in such a way, much less in just a few months’ time, and I was honestly terrified at every feeling I harbored for him. I shifted to rest my palms on his chest making eye contact with his flecked eyes.

“Why are you always so good to me, huh? Better be careful, babe.. People may think you’re going soft.” I warned, raising my brows to appear concerned.

“Oh, but you’ll be able to assure them that Colton Ritter is far, farrrrr from soft, baby…” One swift, lascivious movement now rendered me pinned at my sides by both wrists under two strong, veined hands. Although the act seemed to be hinting toward a much more lustful direction, he simply touched his lips to the corner of my slightly gaped mouth with a single extended kiss, lilting a melodious “I love you.”

Colton

She dozed off an hour or so before I had. The barely noticeable, gentle buzzing of her snoring mouth gave her away. The cotton-like thickness of my dry tongue screamed for a drink shortly after, so I had to scoot her head from crease of my arm, careful not to pull on the hair fluffed on top of her head. She had wallowed trying to get comfortable, I’m sure the damn hardness of my bicep wasn’t the best replacement for a pillow, and tangled strands of her blonde hair were brushing over her lashes. I often wished maybe I could give the gym a little break, and soften up a bit. Just so she’d be able to sleep tucked into my chest at night without feeling like she’d get a black eye if I moved the wrong way.

My high-school wresting t-shirt she slept in climbed up her belly, exposing more of the clean shade of white boy-shorts she wore underneath, and a teasing curve of the underside of her breast. I had seen my fair share of naked women in life, more beyond Liv’s level of comfort. But her? Damn it… She wasn’t Playboy, plastic lipped, and chiseled from head to toe like most empty fuckers like me would look for. Liv’s beauty was more palatable, and desirable to the real man. Beauty that maybe most people would miss out on. But me? She entranced me the minute she stabbed me with those emerald green eyes.

Her buttery soft skin, her blonde hair usually wild like the winds of Chicago. Not the kitchen sink blonde like you’d see down at the infested strip clubs downtown either. No, this was the sunshine yellow she was born with. Sandy, smooth blonde intertwined with some strands of caramel like the inside of a chewy candy bar..

Her perfect, pink, creamy buds painted rosy circles on the inside of the thin cotton of her shirt, and I thought very much that she might’ve been the sexiest thing I had ever seen. The screaming hard on pinned under my boxers said so. And despite the trickle of drool out the side of her slumbering mouth, and the smearing black of yesterday’s makeup stained under her eyes, I couldn’t look away. As if I’d even want to. And hell, if I wasn’t in love with this Indiana girl in every sense of the word.

Liv

Despite my desperate prayers for time to halt for just one night, it insisted on passing into the morning. I had slid from the bed just before dawn to close the dark curtains of the room, wanting to make sure he got undisturbed, restful sleep for what this day was going to require from him. And selfishly, it as also an attempt to keep our room as black as the unexplored ocean, foolishly thinking maybe the rising sun would just pass us by if I didn’t allow its light in. We had eventually forced ourselves to sleep the night before, after several attempts to kiss goodnight. One kiss, lead to three more, which lead to fifteen more, each holding more and more desire to carry those kisses elsewhere over the span of the other persons body. But, painfully so, I squandered it insisting he better get some shut eye.

Now, the digital clock on the nightstand closest to his side of the bed flashed 5:49 a.m., and I expected his internal clock to start stirring him very soon. From the sliver of dawn intruding through the minimal crack of the patterned drapes, I watched him sleep. Admired would be a better word. His lids smoothly sealed, no crinkles of struggle about them, and his mouth gently puckered. I made mental note of his naturally suntanned, unscathed face in the state it was now, knowing full well tonight would render it not so. There were no bruises, no splits in his lips, no blackened eyes. He was the nearest thing to physical perfection I had ever laid eyes on. I hoped he couldn’t sense my focused staring.

Suddenly, I felt a growing itch in my nose, a building sneeze approaching. Trying at all costs to avoid waking his lifeless form, I pinched my nostrils shut in effort to trap the noise from escaping. However, the harsh flinch my body released sent a jolt over the entire mattress. Colt inhaled a loud, groggy breath and stretched his hand to grasp for my side of the bed.

“Hey, you,” he said rubbing the rest from his waking eyes.

The hearty drift of his accent from the hours of 4 to 9 a.m. could very near send me straight into orgasm.

“Sorry, babe. I tried not to wake you.”

He rolled over to face me dragging his arm around my waist to pull me into his chest, I smiled and draped a bare leg over his warm body.

“I ain’t got no problem at all gettin’ woken up by the likes a’ you, baby.” He crowded me with a drowsy kiss, his tongue curling slightly under my top lip. I could feel him rattle with laughter at the sensual pant he sucked out of me.

“You’re not so bad yourself, sir. How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby with a full belly. You?”

I kicked back the covers, breaking the wall of warmth it had closed around us and scooted to raise on the edge of the bed.

“Great. I’m thinking of getting one of these mattresses for my place. It may take up every inch of my entire bedroom, but it’d be well worth it.”

“Hey hey hey, where you think you’re going, little lady?!” Colton was propped on both arms, scowling at me under a lined forehead. “You ain’t even gonna have breakfast with a man? I feel so cheap.”

Always so witty, this one. “I just assumed you had a lot on your agenda today, Colt. I don’t want to hover.”

I was puzzled constantly over when to stick around, and when to leave him be. Appear as committed, but not obsessed. Interested but not overbearing. I had never been with an older man before, were the rules different? Sure, he was only 26 to my almost 23, but nonetheless older. Did the “hard to get rule” expire with men in their late-twenties?

“Livvy, stop worryin’, baby. Mornings before a fight are actually pretty laid back. I’ll spend most of the day with my headphones in my ears, prolly take a dip in the jacuzzi,” he was rolling his eyes, motioning his hands back and forth to explain the boring schedule of his day. “Then, meet the guys in Mac’s room to talk things out before we head to the venue. So, at least lemme order us some room service so I can enjoy breakfast with my girl, ight? Unless you got somethin’ else I could eat for breakfast? It’s the most important meal of the day, y’know…”

Damn this pig. This sexy, magnificently tantalizing pig.

I hurled the hotel menu on the desk speedily toward him, “Cold shower, Ritter. Cold shower.”

If he wanted breakfast in bed with me, who I was I to deny? Rolling my puffy morning eyes at him, I crept back into bed.

“Waffles, please! And bacon. Oh! Fruit on the side, too. And coffee. Don’t forget coffee.”

Like he said, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right?

The man was impressed with my appetite for food, among other things as well. “Yes, ma’am!” he obliged. “Anythin’ else for the princess?”

“Maybe some whipped cream? For the waffles, of course….”

I was even surprised at myself for the boldness he brought out in me. Sex was a very.. taboo thing back home. Matter of fact, I never even got “the talk” from my parents, and instead was left to the uneducated murmurs of my fellow sheltered classmates. But with Colton, I felt audacious when it came to the topic. Mind you, the things he said most of the time could sent me blushing under the table, but I was growing more comfortable with his dirty remarks and was even starting to throw in my own ornery overtone on occasion.

“Oh shit. You a damn tease, Liv Elliott. A dirty, dirty tease.”

Our indulgent spread of breakfast variety was carted to the door in a very prompt fashion. I obviously indulged more than he, devouring two Belgian waffles, 3 strips of the crispiest peppered bacon I’d ever had the pleasure of eating, a grapefruit, and two cups of coffee. He enlightened me that he could’ve eaten every morsel in front of him, but it wouldn’t be a good idea to cram all the carbs and fat into his stomach, in case it made him feel sluggish. So, regretfully it was egg whites, two slices of dry wheat toast, and a protein shake for him. I did entice him to take just one bite of my syrup sopped waffle though.

“Sheesh, I’m gonna need a solid nap later to recover from that overload.” I crashed backwards onto the feather pillow behind me, crossing my hands over the settling food baby in my stomach.

“Hey, do me a favor will ya’? Wear that sexy fuckin’ leather jacket o’ yours I like so much tonight? I know I won’t see ya’ before the fight, but I want you to wear it out to celebrate after. My little badass, front-page writer out on the town.” He was kissing my individual fingertips one at a time.

“Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out then.” My gut bubbled with hope that tonight would bring to pass every detail he had said. Him, the newly crowned Middleweight Champ on my arm, and me, the newest front-page writer for the Pitt Pilot. Could life be that perfect for us?

“Course. A man with a plan.” I admired how he trampled every aspect of life with blinding confidence, and I wished he could somehow hypnotize me to do the same. “As much as I hate to leave good company, babe, I should get home. Let you get all angry and pouty and what not.” I sighed into a near pout, sincerely wishing I could spend the entire day as a part of his prep team.

“You’re probably right, baby doll. I can’t believe Mac ain’t been here beatin’ my door down yet.”

I was gathering my day-old clothes to redress, and Colt rose to begin lightly packing his gym bag. He threw in an unfolded change of shorts, his red headphones, then I saw him pick up the gloves I’d gifted him.

“C’mere, two-one..” I zipped my khakis up and lifted my hair out from under the neck of my shirt, then obliged to his request. He held one glove in each hand and squared them even to my chin.

“Kiss ‘em for luck?”

My heart hiccupped, and I topped his hands with mine and dipped my puckered lips to the padded mitts with an audible “mwah.”

“That’s it. The magic touch! The final nail in that jackoff Mendez’s coffin. A kiss of luck from my girl. Now, got one more kiss on that pretty little mouth for these?” he begged, one finger pointing to his own sinful lips.

I closed in on him with fierce eye contact. “I think I may have just one little measly kiss left in here somewhere for you, champ.”

My mouth was so close to his that the words nearly vibrated off of his parting lips, and I gently cupped his dimpled cheek. It was a lethal concoction made of salaciousness and loving romance that was slowly poisoning my entire body with bliss. Colton’s hand swept down the side of my head, combing through the tangled hair he had gathered it into his fist at the back of my neck. I was locked to him and I never knew being captured could feel so, so good. My tongue covered almost every surface in his mouth, mapping it out. He withdrew and I could feel his lips spreading upward into a smile.

“Wow. I think I may need to drown myself in an ice bath now. A cold shower ain’t gonna wipe that one outta my mind.”

I was pleased that I had to same affect on him, and his did on me.

“Good luck tonight. You don’t need it. You’ve got this. Step into that cage ready to battle. Clear eyes, okay? I love you, Colt.”

“Clear eyes. I got it, baby. And I love you too, Elliott. More than you fuckin’ know.”

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935

#Tom Hardy #tomhardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tomhardyfanfic #tommy conlon #elizabeth olsen #tomhardy x ofc #thegrind

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k-meshus · 5 years ago

Text

Ecstasy

Chapter 1: Prologue The lukewarm air coming from the vent above me left a tingling sensation on my face. After I got used to the rippling effect, i brought my self to bring my eyes open with great difficulty. Though the room, that I didn't know how I got into was dimly lit, every refraction of light was a great pain to the eyes, everything felt a lot bright. After my eyes adjusted to the surrounding light, I found out I was lying on a hospital bed, getting fed through a small tube they call a glucose, which I found its constant dropping very irritating. I was alone. There was nobody that came to check. Maybe I've been here for weeks, months or even years. And they all just gave up on me. As that freakish thought crept upon me, I heard footsteps hurrying towards the room I was in. I saw the white gown of a tall, middle aged doctor enter. Closely followed by my mom, whose face was showing a mixture of emotions. Fear, relief and anxiousness. Which all turned into a face of disappointment the next second. Maybe that explained it. Whatever it was, whatever I did...it was not good. Chapter 2: Tickets To Nothingness 4 months ago I grabbed the bottle of pills from under my bed as I hurriedly tried to leave for school. I'm not a morning person. I dont get up early, always late. I hear my mom repeatedly shouting my name from the other room. The pounding pain in my head was too obstructive too answer her. I made a low groaning voice to let her know I heard her. I dragged myself down the stairs and into the car after I kissed her bye. The ever so annoying questions about my mood from dad were what always greeted me when I entered the car, or anyone and anywhere for that matter. "Nothing," I gave my usual reply. Unsatisfied with the answer as always, we drove out. I got in to class swerving the everyday rant about my lateness from various teachers. But I first made a detour to the bathroom to take 2 blue, round pills and went to class. I made my way to the back of the class and sat back. Felt a tugging to my right. I turned to see the smiling face of Mary. My first friend I made when I moved to this school last year. She was short, a bit chubby and almost always in a good mood. You'd always see her laughing or talking with anyone she thinks is fun. She was very approachable. "Look alive!" She said laughing for whatever reason, grabbing her seat next to me. "I would if I was" i replied, beaming at her. She knew I was on some thing from my slurred speach. She didn't make any comment about it, as it was the norm to go to class high. "Ugh. Math and physics back to back on a monday! Its the Worst" she exclaimed. I nodded in agreement. I was never the one to talk, bring up ideas or getting involved on pretty much anything. I'm just there to give my opinions and observe other's. And see them get to a decision whether i agree or not. "They never fail to bring the days to the worst," I said. "And there you go," she said, softly laughing and setting up her books. "What do you mean?" I asked even though I knew where this was going. "Your thoughts, and these things you say that are generally not...uhh what's the word here? Not bright I guess" "Did I lie?" I asked. "Well no but, you know? Somethings are better not said. Better kept in. Whether the truth or not," she said, still smiling. "Yeah yeah. Whatever you say," I replied The dreadful monday classes finally came to an end. As I was lifting my bag to leave I heard my name and turned around. It was Nate. A shorter than average guy with face as clear as milk. "Wanna go to the game zone? Get your ass kicked on some playstation soccer?" He asked. "Sorry I got places to get to. Been a really tiring day." I lied. "Alright maybe tomorrow then," he said, heaving his bag to leave. "Sure" I replied to his back. I didn't have places to go. I just honestly wanted to get home to my bed. Not that it was better than school, but at least I'll be alone. Nor was it a much tiring day than the others. I don't notice the days passing by. They all seem like an endless hour. They've all merged together to create an endless loop. Their lines blurred. As I was running low on my tickets to nothingness, I made a detour to my friend Lukas's house. He was my plug. I don't know by exactly how much but he was a bit older than me. Tall, dark skinned and fit, he was a cool dude. He wouldn't sell anything he doesn't believe in. Or anything you can easily overdose on. He was one of those rare dealers thats not in just purely for the money, but also for other people's timely joy. I rapped on the door thrice. I saw his face emerge from the kitchen through his cracked window. He opened the door to let me in. The place was shabby but enough. Light coming from two lamps on either side of the house, a ragged mat was what greeted you on your first step in. But a bright white light shines from the kitchen. That was where he usually operated. He never really seeked much luxury. He was a simple guy. As I entered, the smell of multitude of pills in all different shapes and sizes was suffocating. There was a small bottle of yellowish liquid on the small table that supported itself against the couch. Whatever it was it clearly was not orange juice, since there was a syringe lying next to it. "I thought you met your creator," he said making his way back to the kitchen. "I figured you might come so I was just prepping your stash" his voice came, through the sounds of opening and closing drawers. "Yeah, been a week right? Didn't have much time to get around. Your stuff been lasting longer" I said, Grabbing a cigarette from his TV stand. "I keep telling you, quality is what I seek," he said, coming from the kitchen holding a small plastic bag with smiles on his face. It was true, his supplies were never disappointing. After I lit the cigarette and took two, long, well deserved draws from it, I asked, "So what's in the bag?" "A bottle of xannys, small bag of mollys, 3 tabs of 450ug acid, and on the house, two rolls of mj." He answered. I took another drag, grabbed whatever money from my pocket and gave him. We both know it wasn't enough. But he also knows I'm never late to pay my debts. "Don't get yourself killed Luc. Or worse, go to jail," I joked, as i got up making my way to the door. "You'll bail me out homie," he said, before I closed the door. Mine and Lukas's relationship was not a dealer-buyer relationship. It was more like "a friend who sold drugs and I buy it from him but we don't hang out much" kind of relationship. I dropped the cigarette on the puddle by his door and made my way home. "Where were you?" Was the question that came from my mom as I got in. "I met a friend from my old school and we were catching up," I lied. "You better not be up to something funny," she warned. "I never am", I said proudly opening my room door. She never trusted me. She once caught me smoking a cigarette on the backyard. Well, not exactly caught red handed but she smelled it as I was making my to the bathroom to wash up. I knew it was obvious so i didn't bother lying. I just admitted it. But even before this she never trusted me. I don't know what she thinks I'll be doing but she wants to know where I am and what I am doing every second. "Dinner!" she yelled. "I've eaten," I yelled back, as i started crushing a pill which Lukas didn't tell what it was. I made it's way through my nose and lied back on my bed. I heard a message from my phone and took it out to reply. But I couldn't type a word. Something from inside me was holding me back. Then I realized it was the pill doing its job. My muscles were uncontrollable. My jaws clenched and I histerically laughed at my own disability. It was a little scary since I've never taken anything with similar effects. But I completely trust Lukas on my life. He wouldn't sell me anything he thinks is harmful on small doses. Getting to the bathroom was difficult but manageable. I sprayed some water on my face, and saw my eyes were dilated and bloodshot red. I went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and saw my dad was there. "Hey," I said, through a slurred voice walking past him to the sink. I always talked in low and slurry voices even when I'm not high. And people can't tell the difference anymore. "How's class?" He asked, for the sake of it. "Good," I replied for the same reason. "Dont forget your homeworks," mom warned. I ignored her and went back to my room. I laid back again and stared at the cealing. It appeared to be zooming in and out. Colourful patterns everywhere on it, easing my anxiety filled and overthinking brain. Whatever this drug was, whatever it cost, it gave much of the feeling I look for. Not exactly joy or laughter or a general euphoria. But the feeling of nothing. Yes that feeling where your mind doesn't proccess anything. Your entire body is just resting. Or better yet, completely turned off. Where you lie where ever you are and think of... nothing. That feeling. Whether it lasted 2 seconds or 2 hours was what I sought. And what I currently got.

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theyrecalledharbularybatteries · 6 years ago

Note

Heyyyy! I’ve sent ya a message but a super innocent reader who takes Peter to a super punk rock show?

YEah, thanks for being so patient with me. You’re actually my first ask ever, so this is a pretty big deal. I’m afraid the one shot might not be exactly what you wanted or even that good. But, there’s a lot of worried Peter and nonchalant female reader so yeah.

Anyway have at it, love. 🖤🖤🖤🖤

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ask: “Peter Parker fic where the reader is like super innocent but takes Peter to a super punk rock show.”

________

“Come on Parker can we please go?” she threw herself across her boyfriend’s lap, drawing out the “please” in the most obnoxious, persuasive voice she could manage.

“Stop trying to use my weakness against me, I don’t think it’s good for you- for us, I mean,” he didn’t bother to look up from his phone. Dismissing the proposal with a flat tone.

“And what might your weakness be?”

“I love it when you call me Parker, and don’t even say anything to that,” he took a moment to stop scrolling so he could give her a pointed look, his eyes overflowing with slightly hounded adoration.

She pulled herself up from his lap, reaching across his legs to grab a piece of paper and shove it into his face, “Come on Parker,” another glance up, “These are our friends, and it will be a great way to have one final night out before we all go off to college. And anyway I’m going even if you’re not so you can stop being such a little - such a little PAPERCUT about it.”

“See that’s exactly my point. You think calling someone a papercut is mean. Look at you, you feel guilty about it I can tell. This is why we should just stay here and watch I dunno The Octonauts or something,” Peter put his phone down on the table, and bent to pepper kisses on her face.

“Shut up,” she grinned upon being kissed, “I bet I know more about ocean creatures than you do. Anyway, it’s not like we’re going to get murdered it’s just a concert in one of our rich classmate’s backyards. You know you wanna, it only costs 69 cents to get in, see!” she pointed at the part of the flier that had been scrawled on quickly, obviously not meant to be there.

“That’s a joke babe, and I bet you don’t even get it. Exhibit B right there.” Peter stood up and stretched.

“I so do get it, but like I said, I’m going whether you are or not so have fun sitting here all alone,” she pressed a lasting kiss to his lips then walked towards the door, “ I hope to see you tomorrow at my place 7pm. Aloha my darling!” and she was gone.

***

The flier tormented Peter all night. Sure, these people were their friends but they were all going to college now. Who knows what could happen? He just didn’t want to get his sweet, unadulterated rose squashed. What if someone tried to hurt her? What if they spiked her drink?

He knew of course, that if anyone tried anything Spiderman would conveniently swing by and they’d be out of there before you could say ‘arachnophobia’ but there was an ever present worry in his mind, he knew the bad side of New York. Still, he wanted her to be happy and if taking her to this Punk Rock throw together band was what she needed to smile, he would do it in a heartbeat.

So the next day, he found himself outside of his girlfriend’s house. Her bay window was open, and he could see the floral curtains flowing gently in the breeze.

He was let in by her mother(she had let him pass with a quick kiss on the cheek and a hug) and was upstairs in under a minute. Peter knocked three times before going in, just to make sure he wasn’t intruding on anything.

“Come in!” Peter practically had to pick his jaw up off the floor.

He barely recognized her, his innocent girl. Where was the girl who wore sweaters and made flower crowns and hardly got any sex jokes at all. This Y/N was a different Y/N and he… He kind of liked it.

Instead of her normal sweater or graphic t shirt she donned a rather slim fitting tank top and high waisted shorts which happened to be ripped. A far cry from the soft innocence she often emitted. A pair of leather combat boots sat at the foot of her bed, and she was in the middle of applying a layer of dark colored lipstick.

“Dude!” his voice cracked, and she laughed at him, “Where did you even get that!?!”

“I’ve had it all along, I just never really get a chance to wear it.” she snickered, putting the lipstick down on the small table.

“Who are you and what have you done with my Y/N” he laughed incredulously and went to hug her.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me Parker, my life is one big secret,” she kissed him, leaving the faintest hint of color on his lips. “Now come on, we’re going to be late.”

Upon arriving at the large estate Peter immediately wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her close.

The band had already started tuning their instruments, the vocalists checking the quality of the high end microphone.

“See, it’s not that bad.” she bounced on her toes, her excitement pellucid.

“Ok ok maybe you’re right, maybe I did over react a little bit.”

“Just a little bit?” she giggled grabbing both of his hands and kissing him, her ever present smile widening.

Peter laughed into the kiss, picking her up and swinging her around. “God, I love you so much”

“I love you more, but shut up it’s starting,” she leaned into him, a silent thank you.

Throughout the whole night, he never saw her stop singing, Not once did she stop her dancing. She had dragged him on to the designated dance floor, which was really just a piece of land that people had gravitated to. Of course, being spiderman and all this whole thing was absolutely torcherous. His heightened senses practically screamed in agony, overpowered by manic drums and screaming vocalists. But when she grabbed onto his shirt, giddy with happiness and kissed him, a song by The Offspring playing loudly in the background. There’s no place he’d rather be.

~~~~~~Well there you go. I’m afraid the plot was everywhere and the whole thing felt kind of rushed, and if I end up editing it and making it better I will personally send the new version to you. I hope you at least enjoyed it a little bit though, I’m a fan of calling Peter Parker by his last name, but you know whatever fits your fancy.

Sorry again about the quality, but still, fill free to request anything else. 🖤🖤🖤

Love always,

Eli

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justaramblingromantic · 6 years ago

Text

sмαcк тнαт

Characters/Pairing: Kobayashi Rindou and Tsukasa Eishi/EiRin

Type: Canon-divergent AU, Post-series, Peerless-verse, Freestyle

Word Count: 4781

A/N: Kink prompt. Rating for sexy tiemz. Why is my smut always so obnoxiously long...

He stared at her in disbelief, once she finally put out her request.

She stared back at him, utterly shameless and unrepentant, as always. Was there even the word ‘shame’ in her dictionary? At any rate, she was all bright eyed and bushy tailed and waiting expectantly for his agreement.

“You want me to what-” he uttered slowly, just in case he had heard wrongly the first time around. He seriously doubted it, though. Why was his girlfriend like this, he could not help but think dourly, and not for the first time. Other girlfriends expected romantic dinners and thoughtful, sentimental gifts from their significant others, but not her. No, she-

“Oh, c’mon! You said that you’d do whatever I want!” she reminded him, as if he could forget. If he had known that she would be demanding this sort of impossible things, he would have just cooked her a romantic dinner guaranteed to rock all the clothes right off of her and gotten her an expensive jeweled necklace or something equivalent.

That would have been less problematic than what she expected out of him.

He barely resisted the urge to rub his temples.

“…You want to be spanked. By me.”

He still had trouble figuring out her logic, mainly because there were none. She was completely incomprehensible.

“You make it sound so unreasonable,” she huffed, and he shot her an incredulous look.

“It is unreasonable. Why do I have to hit you?”

“Because I’ll enjoy it?” She tried to cajole him, which only served to earn another exasperated look from him. “…Probably?”

“…No.”

“Tsukasaaaaa,” the redhead dragged out his name, plopping down on the bed beside him and nudging him insistently as he was trying to ignore her. “Let’s just do it – maybe it’d be fun and you’d like it too!”

His response to her ridiculous pep talk was to grab her hand so that she would stop poking him and drop his arm over her shoulders, pinning her against his side and limiting the scope of her movements so that she could quit being so distracting. She wasn’t so easily quelled, much to his chagrin.

“Seriously, what does a girl have to do to get a good spanking around here,” she complained, immediately trying to wiggle out from under his grip. No such luck. Over the years, he had gotten pretty good at getting a firm hold on her because she could be really sneaky when she wanted to be. “I wanna know what it feels like! You’re the only one I can explore my sexual curiosities with! You don’t want me to get some other guy to do it to me, right?”

His temple twitched. He turned his head to this brazen minx.

“Are you trying to make me mad?”

Her cat slit eyes sparkled. She wasn’t even sorry. “Am I succeeding?” she asked him eagerly. “Do you feel like doing it now? You should do it properly, or it doesn’t count. Be forceful and beat me like you mean it!”

What was she even-

“Why are we always having this sort of conversations,” he asked to no one in particular. The urge to massage his head grew. She started poking him with her other hand.

“How angry do I have to make you to get you to turn me over your knee,” she demanded to know.

“Are you threatening me?” he enquired with dangerous calm.

“Yes~” she lilted. “What are you going to do ‘bout it? Punish me?”

His eyes narrowed at her smug, vulpine grin. She was just going to keep hassling him until she got her way, wasn’t she?

“You aren’t going to stop, are you?” he asked.

She pressed sweetly into his side, batting her eyes at him with exaggerated guilelessness that he was not buying at all. Her pink lips molded her request in a deliberately seductive drawl. “Please discipline me good, Eishi~”

So be it, then.

Before she could prepare herself, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her decisively across his lap. She gasped in surprise, and then grunted as she landed on her belly, stretched out over his thighs.

“Oomph-”

His hand splayed against the small of her back, pushing her down. The other flipped her skirt up to bunch around her waist, exposing her pert rear end. Her lace trimmed panties hugged and accentuated the smooth, round curves of her bottom, enticing his touch. His palm slid down from the base of her spine to her rump, cupping one firm cheek, long, lean digits curling slightly, possessively squeezing the soft flesh. She squirmed and pushed against his hand, delighted by his dominating demeanor.

“I cannot believe I’m enabling this,” he muttered under his breath.

“Less complaining, more doing,” she instructed bossily. Even bent over his lap, she was still trying to tell him what to do. He pinched her rump, a bit irritated. She yelped and then snickered, her shoulders trembling with her mirth. It was impossible to be too mad when the girlfriend was spread dorsal before him. And she had such an attractive rear too, shaped perfectly like a full, ripened peach, voluptuous and plump. It was a backside perfect for running his hands all over, fondling, rubbing…spanking.

“Be quiet,” he scolded. Everything about this troublesome woman drove him up the wall. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her skimpy underwear, and he slowly dragged the material past her hips and worked the scrap of silk and lace down her upper thighs, baring her cheeks fully. She wiggled her bottom playfully, mooning him with mischievous sensuality, only stilling when his hand skimmed over those lush globes, masculine, adroit digits drifting along the lower curves of her flanks, slightly callused tips tracing her sensitive flesh to where they joined at the shadowed apex of her softly rounded thighs. She bit her lip when he brushed his index and second finger lightly against the silken petals of her womanhood, concentrating on his touch.

With his other hand, he gently nudged her legs slightly apart, and she instinctively braced her feet against the footboard of the bedframe.

“You want this,” he reminded her again. “You can’t complain if you’re too sore to sit properly tomorrow.”

She turned her head to the side to meet his gaze. There was not an ounce of apprehension in her fearless regard. Only amused anticipation…

And trust.

“If it hurts too much, I’ll just have you kiss it better~” she teased. There was a low, languid purr in the quality of her voice, and he recognized it for what it was. She was starting to get excited. His lavender eyes darkened. He continued to finger her from behind, drawing lines along her labia, slowly growing slick with arousal.

She was ceding control, wholly giving in to him.

“…I understand. Count my strokes.”

She nodded.

“Mn.”

He caressed her rear, and then without warning, he raised his hand high and let it fly. The sharp crack of palm meeting bottom cheek reverberated across the quiet of her bedroom. She jerked slightly at the stinging sensation, drawing a surprised intake of breath. Predictably, it hurt, but at the same time, the fact that it was him administering this sweet punishment only made her lust spike.

“…One,” she uttered faintly, already starting to grow lightheaded with exhilaration.

He scrutinized her intently.

She was tense…not with trepidation…but anticipation. Slowly, he lifted his hand once more and slapped her soundly across her other cheek. Her breath hitched. A languid wave of delicious warmth started to spread in the pit of her belly, sinful and thrilling.

“…T-Two.”

Still silent, he repeated his deliberate action all over again. His attention was raptly focused on her, this breathtaking redhead draped over his lap with her bottom scandalously bared and wantonly begging for his abuse.

Smack.

She shifted restlessly, a breathy exhalation. Her features started to flush, out of his sight. There was no sign of her asking him to stop, however.

“T-Three.”

By the time the count reached eighteen, her rear was throbbing and there were matching bright red handprints seared onto her flesh, one on each cheek. Her bum felt like it was on fire; she felt unbearably hot and sensitive all over, squirming and breathing hard.

It was a challenge not to whimper.

On the other hand, Eishi was learning new things about himself that he never expected to find out.

There was something about spanking her that was incredibly…erotic. He did not like the thought of hurting her, but this was something quite different from physical cruelty. For one, she was blatantly enjoying it…and her thrilled little mews and gasps were incredibly sexy to experience. For another, he was extremely fascinated by the way her rounded flesh jiggled with every spank he administered. Her fair skin took on the rouge of his touch so readily too, blushing an enticing rose pink, and his handprints marked her bottom like twin brands of possession. He paused and quietly admired the view, his heated palm brushing against her warm skin, made so tender thanks to the diligent application of his hand against her rear.

She shuddered when his fingers caressed the curve of her rump, as if attempting to soothe the sharp bite of his blows earlier. Ooh, he was driving her crazy.

“Have you had enough?” he asked softly, his voice low and mellow.

She opened her mouth to reply, only to moan when he slipped his hand between her legs, long digits sliding seamlessly into her slick heat. She was thoroughly soaked with arousal, and could only writhe and arch into his touch. Her head dropped forward, forehead pressing against the cushion, her body trembling with barely pent desire. She shook her head wordlessly, her hands clenching into fists.

“No?” he enquired, the rich timbre of his deep tenor making her head go fuzzy. He stroked her needy flesh slowly, deliberately. She squirmed.

“M-More,” she breathed jaggedly, almost panting. “Eishi-”

He did not respond right away. No, he was intently exploring her silken passage, taut muscles slippery and clenching all around his fingers even as he continued the maddening pace of his languorous thrusts.

Her breathing quickened even more, the pulsing pressure that was slowly expanding inside of her made her feel like she was going to melt and explode at the same time. He curled his fingers, his thumb rubbing against the pearl of her clitoris, slow, gradual circles that steadily drove her to complete distraction. She bit the insides of her cheek, but was still unable to completely muffle the lingering moan that slipped from between her lips.

He stopped. She groaned unhappily, only to jerk when he pulled out of her abruptly and swatted her rump.

“Mmph!”

She grunted, but grew frustrated when he stopped again. Ooh, he was such a tease!!

“You’re supposed to count,” he reminded her softly, and she would be deaf not to hear the faint amusement in his voice. She wiggled against his lap, face scrunching into a scowl as she struggled to remember where they had stopped. He wasn’t helping her fraying concentration any, with how he was softly caressing her tender, sensitive rear, fingers once again drawing closer and closer to the slick petals between her trembling legs, so hungry for his attention.

“E-Eishi-” she stuttered, unable to prevent the full body shiver that wracked her entirety at his intimate touch. Her face suffused with color, her lips parted in a soft gasp. She had unknowingly unleashed a monster in her lover, but how was she to know that he would take to this role so easily? This side of him was incredibly exciting, though, and so sexy and erotic. Pinned down on her belly before him, she could not see what he was doing to her, but she could sense him acutely, which made it all the more thrilling. Another moan slipped from her mouth, and she pushed her hips against his probing fingers, impatient for more.

“Rindou,” he chided in a gentle tone, but he indulged in her unspoken demand and gave into her desires. She quivered and sighed, her mind growing even fuzzier with stark lust. His fingers were barely enough to satiate her raging need, and he seemed deliberate to keep her on tenterhooks, not satisfying her entirely and just ramping her up even more. He leaned over and brought his mouth close to her ear. “Should I stop?”

“No!” she protested, rearing her head. She started to scramble on her hands and knees, only to squawk when he pressed the flat of his palm against the small of her back and pushed her back down.

“Did I say that you’re allowed to move?” he pointed out. “You’re still being punished.”

Much to his surprise, she stilled, all meek and obedient once more, vibrating with sheer anticipation. She was having a lot of fun playing the role of the recalcitrant maiden, it seemed.

“How many times has it been now?” he asked again. It was surprisingly, deliciously, enjoyable, having her at his mercy. She was always so exasperating and unruly, so this was a rather tantalizing change. …She was still as distracting and provocative even when she was being all faux docile and submissive, he realized.

“…N-Nineteen!!” she blurted out at last, relieved to finally remember her count. She yipped when he spanked her again, another muffled moan slipping from her lips. She was all but wriggling on his lap, panting with excitement. The stinging bite on her butt cheek was doing interesting things to her hypersensitive senses, this exquisite blend of pain and pleasure.

“Twenty-” she breathed hazily, her glowing gaze fogging up. He placed his hand on her rear and softly squeezed. Her pert bottom blushed so enticingly…and she wasn’t the only one who was steadily becoming excited. Her pleasure was headily, enthrallingly, contagious. Her warmth, her scent, the arousing little sounds she made, he took them all in, his lavender gaze darkening more and more as he watched her struggle to control herself and hold still beneath his heated palm. She was such a bossy bag of goods, but again and again, she never failed to find ways to show him that she was his. This sweet surrender, this unhesitating trust and giddy delight that she took in all of his touch, she was intoxicating and her actions kept him completely captivated with her.

He had never been able to look away.

His voice was soft, but an octave lower than usual, husky, an indication of his rising want for her.

“…It’s my turn to take my reward, now.”

His hand moved from her butt to her wrist, and he pulled her upright. He released her forearm and reached for her face, cupping her cheeks and reeling her in, settling her over his lap. He leaned in and met her halfway, sealing his mouth over hers, kissing her urgently. His tongue dipped between her parted lips, drinking her in, his slick appendage finding and stroking hers erotically. She moaned into the kiss, clumsily kicking off her panties and then straddling him firmly. Undulating her bare hips against his, she utterly delighted in the decadent friction, as well as the firm hardness growing between his legs, all for her.

He dragged his mouth down her throat, nipping at her skin and drawing a shaky little mew from her. He latched onto the side of her neck, just right where her collarbone met her shoulder, and he suckled fiercely.

She pressed into him, frantic for his caresses and kisses, already trembling from the sheer need to be with him. Her fingers tangled and clenched briefly into the front of his shirt, and then she very restlessly, haphazardly started to tug at the fabric, trying to get him out of it. He released his possession of her, separating just long enough for her to get her way, and then he helped her pull off her blouse, too. She purred happily as she ran her palms all over his bared torso, lolling her head to the side so that he could get in close and run his lips over the upper slopes of her bra-clad breasts. She sighed, her dark gold eyes slipping shut, delighted to have his entire attention wholly centered on her. Her arms slid around his neck, and she arched languidly into him, a slow, feline smile spreading across her face.

And then he was kissing her again, his lips clinging tenderly to hers, even as his hands gripped her hips, tugging her flush against him, until they were connected from chest to loin. Those long, adroit fingers trailed lower to the sides of her thighs, then deftly slipped beneath the hem of her skirt, his palms cupping her bare bottom, a muffled groan rumbling from his throat as she wiggled against him wantonly. He shifted and eased her onto her back, kneeling between her parted thighs and stretching over her briefly to reach for the bed stand drawer, quickly pulling out a piece of square foil from the box of condoms that had been stored there.

The gorgeous redhead that he had caught beneath him pushed herself up to rest on her elbows and reached for him, fingers fumbling but quickly undoing the fly of his pants, determined to help him out of the rest of his clothes quickly. He was just as eager as her, and swiftly kicked off his pants and boxer briefs, wanting to be with her as fast as possible. She stole the piece of square foil from him and held it between her teeth, freeing her hands to fondle him, her striking, cat slit eyes glowing with lust as her warm palms lovingly cradled his erection. Her fingers curled around his pulsing length, stroking him with her knowing, possessive touch. Her thumb slid over the sensitive head of his phallus, catching the transparent drops of precum that were beaded at the mushroomed tip, and then she unhesitatingly brought her hand to her lips, tongue sliding out and happily, lasciviously, tasting him.

She hummed with sensual delight, her grip tightening ever so slightly around him, caressing his velvety length with her nimble fingers. His pupils dilated as their gazes briefly met, and he watched as she tore the wrapper between her teeth and pulled out the condom. He held still and let her apply the prophylactic on him, her deft fingers pinching the tip, then rolling the rest of the rubber down his heavy cock. She licked her lips, then stretched up and kissed her beautiful lover.

He kissed her back with hungry, voracious passion, and she smirked against his mouth, pulling away just a bit slightly, her voice breathy and low with desire, and irresistibly mischievous.

“Punish me more~”

He was on her even before she could complete her sentence. Pushing her back on the bed, he stretched over her and settled between the pillowy softness of her thighs. She automatically wrapped her limbs around him, sighing with welcome when he guided himself towards that dewy, slippery entrance nestled at the junction of her legs. He eased his way in, coaxing her taut walls to relax and take him inch by inch, until he was fully buried within her wet, snug form. She arched subtly at his delicious invasion, her toes curling, a soft grunt slipping from her throat. Hnngh.

She locked her ankles around his narrow waist, pressing her heels against the base of his back, instinctively trying to keep him inside of her for as long as possible. He kissed her face, her nose, her eyelids, and started to move. Rolling his hips against hers deliberately, he kept her utterly distracted by the pleasurable sensations he wrought on her body. She could not stop quivering, her fingers digging into the back of his shoulders, red lips parting in a soundless gasp when his rocking motions hit that sweet, aching spot in her that made her whimper and her knees go completely weak.

Her cheeks rouged, her eyelids growing heavy and half lidded, and she clung to him, the insides of her bare thighs rubbing up sweetly, erotically, against his angular flanks, fitting so perfectly against him that he could not help but wrap one arm around her waist and pull her even closer, so close that their bodies were sinuously entwined, and neither had any intention of being apart anytime soon.

He teased her with unhurried, shallow thrusts, ensuring that she felt each and every stroke as he sheathed himself in her tantalizing heat repeatedly, slowly but surely driving her up the wall with his thorough, immaculate lovemaking.

“Bad girl,” he chided huskily by her ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive lobe. She shuddered at his low, silken rasp, tingling everywhere at that stern, sexy tenor of his voice. “…Seducing and beguiling me the way you do.”

She could only moan as he stealthily slipped one hand between her legs, just where they were intimately joined, seeking and finding that slick pearl of her clitoris. He gently rolled and simulated that hypersensitive mass of nerve endings between his thumb and forefinger, in tandem with his quickening strokes. She keened restlessly beneath him, all but bucking her hips and straining hard against him, her body tightening with rising tension, the molten, liquid heat growing more and more in the pit of her belly, and she was helpless to resist the onslaught of his fierce desire for her.

“Haahh- Ei…shi…!” Rindou writhed beneath him, lips parted, the pale glint of her pointed incisors gleaming as she panted his name, her foggy golden eyes focused on nothing else but him. His long, whipcord lean body was wrapped possessively around hers; she could not think of anything beyond his drugging warmth, his clean, masculine scent, the feel of his perspiration slicked skin pressed up against hers. The strands of his pale hair tickled her cheeks, his wet, erotic kisses trailing her neck, marking her shoulders, her heaving breasts - she was wholly inundated by him. It was almost overwhelming, if not for the fact that she was luxuriating in every moment of his attention, purring and lapping up every drop like a hungry feline.

His mouth found hers again, licking, nibbling, suckling. She mewled into his kiss, very much on edge and already incredibly close to the precipice of her impending release. She was struggling to hold him in her, her sleek walls constricting and pulsating around him like a satin vice, and he growled quietly at the sensual sensation. Instead of acquiescing to her unspoken demand, his movements quickened, and he ground into her harder, faster, until they were both breathless and giddy from the mutually pleasurable exertions. She pulled away from his kiss and clenched her eyes shut, biting her lips and lolling her head back against the bedspread, as she felt each driving, emphatic stroke of his hips merging into hers, and the erotic sounds and scents of their mating filled the air. His hands slid up to settle over her waist, fingers curling into her flesh and clutching her tight. He was getting near too, she could tell by the taut tension in his body, how he was needing to be with her as much as possible. He made her so dizzy at times like this, she could not help but think. So selfishly and unapologetically possessing her body, her mind, her soul, he made sure that she could never want anyone else, not in this lifetime.

Her nails dug into the back of his shoulders, the almost animalistic sounds of pleasure escaping her throat becoming louder and more frantic until she felt like she was going to explode from the sexual excitement he was stoking in her.

“Rindou,” he breathed softly, tenderly against the side of her ear. “Come undone for me, love.”

Her catlike pupils dilated. The low, rich timbre of his voice was enough to send her teetering right over the edge. Her mouth parted in a gasp, her features contorting into a mask of carnal rapture as she held onto him for dear life. She pressed her face into the side of his throat, and overcome by passion, she sank her sharp fangs into his shoulder, muffling her howl of release as her body went haywire all around him. He growled at the arousing sting, his muscles twitching at the exquisite stimuli. Her slick, taut form clenched and contracted rhythmically around him, and he was enraptured by how snugly she gripped him, her hot, wet heat seeming to draw him more and more into her, making him so wild for her.

He drove his loins hard into hers, and then, with a few more quick, emphatic thrusts, he let himself spiral into the sweet oblivion of release with her. The tingling tension at the base of his spine overflowed into stark, blinding euphoria. His hips jerked as the tide of his climax seized him, and he moaned her name like a prayer. Holding her tightly to him, entirely buried inside her pulsing, convulsing body, he gave completely into her.

They were an exhausted tangle of bare limbs and half clothed, sweat slicked bodies on the bed, breathing hard and thoroughly spent. He collapsed on top of her, his heart pounding in his chest like he had just ran an entire half marathon. His erection was slow to subside, still throbbing in her in the throes of his lingering orgasm. His head was lowered, forehead pressed on the mattress just by her head, just struggling to regain some semblance of composure and regulate his breathing. Rindou recovered a bit quicker. After a few shaky beats, the redhead came to herself, stirring languidly, momentarily sated and content, her features flushed with that joyous post coital glow. Her arms and legs were still curled around her lover, and she did not mind bearing his dead weight. In fact, she swiveled her head and nuzzled him happily, flooded with affection for him.

“You’re amazing,” she burst out with unabashed praise, pressing warm kisses onto the side of his neck, his jaw. If she had a tail, it would be wagging back and forth with glee. Eishi returned her affection readily enough, once he regathered the energy to do so. Capturing her mouth with his in a slow, sensual kiss, his tongue stroked hers erotically and deliberately, until she was moaning and starting to arch and squirm against him all over again.

They finally broke apart for air, and she could not stop grinning even if her life depended on it. He took advantage of her distraction to slip away momentarily from her embrace, peeling off the condom and disposing of it properly before returning to her side. She made grabby hands at him but before she could tug him to her, he was the one who pulled her into his embrace first, tucking her up against him and just holding her in his arms. His spontaneous affection pleased her, a lot.

“You’re very sexy when you’re being forceful,” she commented huskily. She poked his chest playfully with the tip of her index finger. “I like it.”

His brow furrowed at her comment. “…I’m not sexy when I’m not forceful?”

“I did not say that~” She planted a happy kiss on his nose, and petted his cheek fondly, beaming goofily. “…You also said love, just now.”

The tips of his ears tinted slightly, but he did not deny what she had heard.

“…Do you think I go around beating up women just because they ask me to? This is a special service,” he retorted, as boldly as his mild temperament could manage it. “Being this sexy is a labor of love.”

She snickered.

“But you love bad girls, right?” she teased.

He sighed with consternation at her words. “What can I do? The girl I love is especially bad. It’s been very problematic for me.”

Her shoulders quivered with mirth at his playing along.

“Bad enough to be spanked again in the near future?” she fished cheekily, her eyes twinkling like stars. “Or too problematic for you?”

He swatted her bare rump.

She jumped and whined a little, her bottom still tender from having received his exquisite attention earlier. Then a snort-giggle escaped her. He thought that it was very cute.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he admonished. “This troublesome backside, of course I’ll take full responsibility. So…”

He squeezed her rear, and his fondness for it, as well as for the owner of said rear, was unmistakable. She hummed happily and kissed the side of his throat.

“M’kay. Please take good care of me, always~”

#Kobayashi Rindou #Tsukasa Eishi #Food Wars: Shokugeki no Souma #Shokugeki no Soma #EiRin #EiRin: Peerless AU #my fics #freestyle

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moreracquetball · 7 years ago

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Excerpts from “I’d like to believe that I’d do it again”

Hey, so I wrote this Whizzvin College AU (which clocks at about +60k words), and I thought that maybe I could share some of my fave excerpts from this behemoth. It’s a little long, so apologies for that. BUT HEY, JUST WANNA THANK EVERYONE AGAIN FOR SUPPORTING THIS STORY AS SO MANY PEOPLE DID. IT MAKES ME HAPPY.

See, right now, Whizzer's supposed to be the nice guy—tell him that while he's flattered and all, getting into any sort of sexual relationship with him would be wrong and irresponsible. You have a girlfriend, he'd remind him, grasping his shoulder and giving him a significant look, after everything you've been through together, you can't do this to her. He's supposed to help him along this journey of sexual identity by being a simply platonic mentor who watches out for him and lets him discover his own sexuality in his own way and time. Whizzer's supposed to not take advantage of a sad, lonely man who has no idea what he wants.

But Whizzer is not a nice guy, which is why he disregards all these supposed-to’s and leans in, tightening his grip on Marvin’s thigh and giving him a wicked smile, “You and I are going to have so much fun together, Marvin."

“So I’m a game to you?” Marvin asks, his voice carefully neutral.

“Don’t beat yourself up. Everything’s a game to me.” Whizzer sighs and repositions his head, right over Marvin’s heart, “I’ve always sorta liked you, you know. You never backed down from me, even when I made you look like an idiot. You’ve caused me a lot of grief over the years, not gonna lie, but you’ve never bored me. Not yet, anyway.”

Marvin pauses, “I guess you want me to be flattered by that.”

“Feel however you want about it; it’s the truth,” Whizzer draws back and untangles himself from Marvin, prompting, “So same question about me then.”

Marvin stares hard at him for a moment too long, vague emotions flitting across his gaze. He seems conflicted as to what to say, what to admit. Finally, he settles on, “You’ve never bored me either.”

Not even thinking about it, Whizzer takes Marvin in his arms, burying a hand in the man's hair and letting his breathing even out. As he comes back to his senses, he begins to hear the faint hum of traffic from outside, a faint but constant reminder of the world around them.

Whizzer doesn't know what to do with this information, so he stays silent and lets Marvin lament. Instead, he simply watches as the man restlessly rolls his shoulders, the fluorescent lighting above making the sweat glisten on his toned skin. He's alluring in an abstract, unattainable way. No one has really caught him, Whizzer believes. Marvin has always held everyone at arm's reach, closing the shudders within his eyes every time that something becomes too close to home, too real. Whizzer used to contribute the distance as another sign of the man's pretension, as if he believed himself to be too high above everyone to give anyone leverage on him. But now that he's actually spent time with him—has gotten to know Marvin intimately in the dim lighting and tangled bedsheets—Whizzer thinks that maybe Marvin is just scared.

Scared of being vulnerable. Scared of giving someone a map of his weaknesses and trusting them to not destroy him in the end.

No one has really gotten to know the real Marvin. To his friends, Marvin is just the snobbish but harmless kid whose bark is bigger than his huge. To his teachers, Marvin is just a try-hard with so much potential that it seems to choke him at times. To his girlfriend, Marvin is the fulfillment of some unrealistic, romanticized fantasy. But to Whizzer, he's...

Whizzer isn't saying that he himself knows the real Marvin, but he thinks that maybe he's gotten the closest.

"Fuck off. Beyoncé is in Dreamgirls."

That night, Whizzer comes home early from a disappointing fuck and can't sleep, tossing and turning on his shitty mattress and kinda wishing he was in Marvin's comfortable bed. However, he imagines Trina to be in his place right now, tangled in his bedsheets and threading her fingers through his lover's hair. Wildly, he wonders if she could smell his cologne on the pillow just as he sometimes breathes in and gets a faint whiff of her perfume.

And Jesus Christ, Whizzer cannot be pining right now. He refuses to let himself. It's ridiculous. Whizzer does not chase after men—especially not closeted ones with pretty girlfriends and psychological complexes.

"Whizzer, I don't hate you because you're gay," Marvin declares incredulously, like the sheer thought of it baffles him, "I hate you because you're a pain in my ass. I mean, come on, I know I'm a dick, but give me a little credit here."

At his surprising response, Whizzer laughs. He laughs and laughs until his sides start hurting and he's panting for air. He looks over at Marvin and finds the man watching him, his face desperate and hungry—but for what, Whizzer's too drunk and upset to try to figure out.

Whizzer slaps the man on the back, breaking Marvin from his spell, "You're alright, Marvin. Fuck, sober me will hate me for saying it, but you're damn alright." And they stay like that for a little while longer, staring up at the stars in the night sky.

"Passion dies eventually," Whizzer tells him as they lay breathless in the aftermath, "Just because it's not today doesn't mean it can't be tomorrow."

Marvin shrugs, pulling Whizzer into his arms, "We'll deal with it tomorrow then." And it seems so simple right now between the two of them, but Charlotte's words of warning still echo in the back of his mind.

Whizzer admits quietly, "Marvin, that night...I think I wanted to kiss you, too." Marvin’s hold on him tightens, and his smile is blinding in the pale lighting of the room. And Whizzer knows that he is devouring this man and his bleeding heart, but he doesn’t think he could stop even if he tried.

He wonders if this is what love feels like.

“Oh well, I’m sorry that I disgust you so much,” Marvin grits out, mimicking his tone, “You know, for someone who fucks any guy that buys him a drink, you sure act like you have standards!”

Whizzer scoffs, his anger radiating off him like waves, “For someone who swears he’s not a fag, you sure take it up the ass like one!” The heat off of that barb seems to fly across the room and slap him in the face, causing Marvin to redden even further and throw his shoulders back. Whizzer feels dizzy with the satisfaction, can practically taste the blood in his mouth and wants more.

“For someone who likes to brag that he’s nothing like Trina,” Marvin says, his voice softer but no less cruel, “You sure bitch and whine like her.”

It’s the way that she talks that unsettles Whizzer—the knowing lilt in her voice when she talks about Marvin. Whizzer has always liked to trivialize their relationship—to pretend that Trina is a nameless, robotic mannequin that Marvin simply dresses up and shows off—but it’s ignorant to believe that they aren’t close in at least some ways. Marvin hasn’t shared all of himself with Trina, but he’s given her breadcrumbs of himself—his past, his insecurities—to soothe her desire for any intimacy at all.

They’re sitting at a park bench and absently watching kids play on a swing set and dogs shitting in the bushes. They talk and talk about nothing that really matters, but the hum of organic conversation is soothing. Whizzer has almost lost in the chill that he’d developed earlier when Trina randomly blurts out, “Marvin doesn’t want kids.” It doesn’t take long to connect this line of thinking to the way her gaze has followed the children playing in the park.

Whizzer doesn’t find that hard to believe, “What about you?”

Trina hesitates, “I don’t know. I think I would be a terrible mother. But. Sometimes I think I would really love it, you know?”

Whizzer finds himself shrugging, “I think you’d be a good mom.”

Trina smiles, “Thank you. That means—a lot.”

“Marvin doesn’t like the thought of sharing,” Whizzer tells her, as if she doesn’t already know, “That’s why he doesn’t want kids. He’s very needy—of everyone.”

Trina scoffs, “Trust me, I know. You think being friends with him is bad? Just try dating the bastard.”

Whizzer is thankful that she’s too busy looking at a little toddler in pigtails to gauge his expression. He responds after a beat, his voice sounding stilted even to himself, “No, I don’t think I ever wanna do that.”

Her eyes mist over, a fond sense of wistfulness coating her voice, "We ended up talking for like four of five hours after that, even went to this shitty twenty-four hour diner when the library closed. He talked more, of course. I just listened, mesmerized by how he seemed to command every room he stepped in and the way he talked with his hands." She pauses and adds quietly, "And I wanted him to love me—desperately—so I changed my personality a little just so we could fit perfectly together." She lets out a self-deprecating laugh, "It sounds so stupid to admit it out loud. But I tend to always do that; I warp my own qualities so I can be whoever the other person wants me to be."

“What do you want me to say?” Marvin demands, pulling Whizzer closer and rubbing calming circles into his skin, “Why are you so mad at me, huh? You already know that she means nothing to me. I’ve always been honest with you, Whizzer—more than I have been with anyone. Ever.”

“He’s actually quite good at that,” Trina’s words suddenly come back to haunt him, “At making you believe that you’re the only one who understands him. It’s part of his charm.”

Whizzer is a terrible person. He’s always known this, deep down, but sometimes it hurts to be reminded of the fact.

He doesn’t really know what he was planning to accomplish by coming here. To give Trina some justice? To prove his own decency somehow? But that would require Whizzer to be selfless.

Whizzer kisses Marvin then, ending wherever that conversation was heading. He pushes Marvin back onto the couch and devours him, turning the man into a quivering puddle of shuddering sighs and moans.

Whizzer keeps having to make a choice. But, time and time again, he refuses to make the right one.

Marvin soon appears, hopping off the stage and walking over to him. Whizzer smirks and begins to offer him a harmless taunt about the tights that he wore, but then Marvin seizes his collar and pulls him into a kiss.

In public. With people still around.

Jesus Christ, has he lost his fucking mind?

"No one knows us around here," Marvin whispers against Whizzer's mouth, noticing that the other has been too stunned to reciprocate, "Relax." As if that broke the spell, Whizzer loops his arms around his waist and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss.

It's incredible, really. Whizzer had forgotten that he'd had pressure wedged in his chest until Marvin kisses him and suddenly releases it.

"What?" Marvin asks when they eventually pull away, eyeing his dazed expression.

Whizzer thinks about blowing it off, but the quiet words tumble out of his mouth anyway, "I think I'm happy."

Marvin smiles, suddenly looking as shy as the day that Whizzer had first introduced himself, "Me too."

In bed that night, Marvin pushes him to lie flat on his stomach and starts pressing chaste kisses along his spine, mumbling words into his skin that Whizzer can't make out. It's so easy, Whizzer thinks amazedly, to be with him. How can it feel so complicated and fucked up one moment and then feel like this the next?

Whizzer tries not to think about it. He presses his face into the pillow and just enjoys the ride.

Marvin stiffens, "You didn't have to say it."

"Does it still bother you?"

"Of course it bothers me," He snaps, suddenly defensive, "I'm not like—that. I'm not like you."

Whizzer narrows his eyes, pushing out of Marvin's arms, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not gay," Marvin declares, "Whizzer, you know that." Whizzer knows that that's what Marvin likes to tell himself. It's never stung to hear him say it before though. Until right now.

Maybe because of last night. Maybe because Whizzer had thought that something—anything had changed.

But the air between them has shifted. It took Marvin essentially showing his hand to him to clear the dust from Whizzer’s eyes, but he gets it now. He understands the game that they’ve been playing has been revised; it’s become dirtier, more calculated.

He’s more aware of Marvin now—of the mind games that transcend verbal arguments and offhanded gestures. As if things weren’t already complicated before, both men have now gone straight-up nuclear—so much so that they’ve convinced each other that every word and gesture is a tool to work against the other, is a ploy for domination, is a zero-sum game with nothing off-limits and everything to lose.

It’s fucked up. Whizzer loves in a sick sort of way that has his heart breaking but his mouth begging for more.

Whizzer doesn’t want a fairytale. He doesn’t want glass slippers or talking horses or handsome princes telling him what to do. Whizzer wants passion and bitter fights and rough sex and the taste of heartbreak and loneliness on his tongue. He wants as little as possible, just enough to get his rocks off.

Marvin doesn’t want a trainwreck. He doesn’t want the harsh collision and crushing of bones and shrapnel to the heart. Marvin wants romance and submission and doe-eyed devotion and the cult of domesticity. He wants more, enough to make him choke on it.

Marvin kisses him deliberately, making it clear that this conversation is over.

But the tension hasn’t left his body, so Whizzer pulls back and clarifies, “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

Marvin shakes his head, pulling at Whizzer’s shirt, “Help me forget.”

Whizzer doesn’t fight him on this. He knows when to pick his battles.

“What can I say? I have a way with men,” Whizzer says jovially, tasting acid in his mouth when he adds pointedly, “Even the straight ones.” Trina and Whizzer make eye contact, and he sees the real question she desperately wants to ask in her eyes. Why you? What makes you better than me?

Everything, he wants to tell her, an obnoxious sense of pride rising in his throat, everything.

At times like these, their afternoon together seems like such a distant memory. After all, they do share a bed with the same man, and nothing is more polarizing than the desire for attention and the yearning for…for an unspeakable thing. For a four letter word that Whizzer refuses to name.

Marvin tilts his head back and ignores the rising resentments, seemingly tired of more than just his parents at the moment.

"And hey," Whizzer prompts before the other man can hang up, "I just want to remind you...You don't have to change for them, you know? If they don't like you—the real you, they can piss off. You shouldn't have to—you know, wear this mask all the time and put up this huge wall around yourself. It'll get lonely; trust me. I mean, it already is, isn't it?"

There's a pause of silence before Marvin says quietly, "I told you. It's not that easy."

Whizzer sighs, resigned, "Goodnight, Marvin." After he hangs up, he stretches out on his shitty mattress and looks up at his ceiling fan, letting the blur of motion lull him into sleep.

"He seems to know his way around here quite well." Marvin's mother makes the offhanded comment, and it seems harmless enough but Marvin flinches like she's just slapped him.

"We're friends." Marvin explains tightly as he and Whizzer finally make eye contact. Taking one look at the man, Whizzer knows that he didn't take his advice to heart. Marvin has transformed back into his former shell of a self, stapled this ill-fitted persona to his skin as he continually tries to hide the cracks in the façade. Whizzer has spent the last several months mapping each nook and crevice on this man's body, but at this very moment, Marvin might as well be a stranger to him.

Whizzer adopts a chill he just can't shake throughout the entire meal.

Whizzer feels like a passive observer as he watches the dynamics of those around him. Marvin's parents dote on Trina, every word directed in her direction being some form of glowing compliment. By contrast, they are curt and strangely formal with their own son. His mother makes mere small talk with him that reminds Whizzer of how one talks to a stranger. Meanwhile, his father simply stares down at his untouched plate more often than not, his mind far away from here.

Marvin smiles and charms and lies his way throughout the meal, readily putting on this mask that his parents have forged for him. He pretends to be enraptured by Trina and plays along with his mother's unrealistic envision of his future. And he fits into this role of obedient son and charming boyfriend so effortlessly, Whizzer starts to wonder if Marvin could theoretically put up this act for the rest of his life. But then he notices the bags under Marvin's eyes, the edge in every single one of his easy smiles, the tension in his squared shoulders. How exhausting it must be, he quietly marvels, to be so aware and calculated in your every word and movement.

Sensing he's crossed a line, Marvin softens, but he doesn't apologize. He never apologizes. Even when he knows he’s wrong.

It takes a few seconds for Whizzer to regain control of his voice, but when he does, he makes sure it sounds as cold and brittle as ice, "You think you're so much better than me, don't you? You're so much smarter than me, Marvin. You're so much more successful than me, Marvin. You're so superior at everything," He takes a step closer, bring their chests close together, "But you get on your knees for me again and again. You beg for it time after time—why is that, I wonder?” Marvin’s muscles clench tighter and tighter, but he holds his tongue. Whizzer presses on, wanting something—anything at all that proves he’s gotten under his skin, “And how would Mommy and Daddy react if they saw you like that, huh? Do you think they’d believe me if I told them all about it?" He raises his voice to a yell, "Hey Everybody, Marvin is a fa—"

Finally, Marvin shoves Whizzer against the wall, slapping a firm hand over his mouth. Pain erupts in Whizzer's back, but he barely registers the sting through his fury. He removes the hand as soon as Whizzer cuts off, but he keeps their bodies pinned together. With a pang, he’s reminded of that first time in the small closet at a stranger’s house. It seems like that happened an entire lifetime ago, though he knows it hasn’t even been a year.

Marvin's face is still just inches away from his, and Whizzer feels fear beginning to coil in his stomach, "Enough."

"Or what?" Whizzer taunts in a low voice, and he wants him to hit him. He wants the sting of a busted lip, needs the distraction to the turmoil brewing in his chest. But Marvin doesn't look as angry as Whizzer feels; he seems heartbroken at Whizzer's words, as if something actually brought the High and Mighty Marvin down a peg. And so Whizzer breaks their silent truce on to never speak of what’s going on between them, but he makes a pointed decision. He lies.

"You think I give a damn about you?" Whizzer whispers, and Marvin takes his words like a punch in the gut, "You're just an easy fuck, Marvin. That's all you are to me. We aren't boyfriends. We aren't even close."

"You mean nothing to me."

Marvin nods, letting the words wash over him. He straightens his posture, all previous emotions of fury and heartbreak wiped from his face. He's slipped the mask back on. Good, Whizzer thinks to himself, it suits him.

“Stop being petty,” Whizzer snaps, walking towards him and crowding him against the wall of the hallway, “You know that I—“ The words get caught in his throat, so he settles for something easier, “You know that you mean something to me.” He doesn’t say it, but Marvin hears it all the same.

A few hours later, as they lie cramped and entangled on Marvin's shitty couch, naked and sated, they don't talk about what happened before or what will happen later. Maybe they should—after all, several wounds are currently left untreated, exposed to viscous infection that could occur any time in the form of a careless word or barbed insinuation—but they're young and mean and they don't give a flying fuck about the problems that lie just on the horizon. Marvin keeps trying to make him laugh—desperately—and Whizzer refuses to give him the satisfaction, biting his lip to keep the treacherous snickers at bay.

And it isn't perfect, Whizzer thinks as he tries to smother his laughter into Marvin's mussed hair, but right now, it's enough.

Whizzer notices that Trina's hand has entangled in Marvin's hair.

"Yeah," Whizzer agrees faintly, the jealousy choking him, "Let's enjoy it while it lasts."

I love you.

It means nothing to Marvin. It means everything to Trina.

I love you.

To Whizzer, those words have always been an excuse for mistreatment or a ploy for sex. It's always been his parents' "I'm justifying being the cause of your unhappiness" or one of his lover's "Please give me head later." It's never just I love you. It's always had a double meaning. It's always had strings attached.

The words are never meaningless per se, Whizzer rationalizes; they just never only carry the surface implication.

I love you.

Marvin tells Trina this, but what he’s really saying is a plea for submission, for her to stick her head in the sand and never question him. It's a ploy. It's a deceit. It's a breadcrumb.

I love you.

Sometimes Whizzer imagines Marvin saying those words to him—perhaps mid-sex, or huddled beneath the covers and trying to ignore the rising sun, or in the middle of an argument when Marvin needs a trump card.

Whizzer ponders just what his reaction would be. Would it mean anything to Whizzer? Would Marvin ever mean it in the first place?

"I love you." Whizzer whispers once, alone in his apartment.

The words still feel hollow to him—be it in his mind or mouth.

"Jesus Christ, I can't believe I fell in love with someone like you." As soon as the exasperated words fly out of Marvin's mouth, the man stiffens in shock and horror (Whizzer can't tell if it's being feigned, if this is just one of those theatre workshop activities that he's been obnoxiously doing all the time).

Up until that point, Whizzer had been pretty sure that he knew just how those words would affect him. They would hardly even register, he had reasoned. Whizzer would be mindful of the mind games that Marvin plays, and he would be reminded of the ease that Marvin spouts off those words to Trina, and he would be able to rationally see it as the bullshit that it is. He would be calm and indifferent and unwavering, he had imagined.

He was wrong.

Whizzer's eyes widen, and his mouth goes dry, and his chest does something a little funny that makes his breathing turn stilted. And he feels like his heart is devouring every sense of rational thought.

"...Whizzer, I love you." Whizzer rips off Marvin's belt and tears open his shirt.

"Don't say it," Whizzer whispers harshly, threading his hands through Marvin's hair and pulling Marvin's head so their mouths are two little words apart, "Prove it."

"And she deserves more," Marvin continues after a pause, "She deserves someone who doesn't tune her out when she starts talking for more than five minutes and likes sleeping next to her and holds her hand when she's sad—"

Whizzer interjects, supplying, "Someone who loves her."

"I do love her." Marvin protests sharply, his gaze snapping into focus. He's on the defensive now, as if he's still trying to cling to that lie as much as Trina. But Whizzer gives him a pointed, knowing look, and after a beat, Marvin softens.

He amends roughly, "Well, I care about her."

"You know that's not the same thing."

"Yeah," Marvin looks at Whizzer, echoing faintly, "I think I’ve realized that now."

Whizzer snorts, "Always the idealist."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting it all," Marvin tells him, leaning in for a kiss, "As long as you can actually achieve it. And I can."

"He told me he loves me last night," Whizzer confesses to her, the words buzzing on his tongue, "He's breaking up with Trina today."

Cordelia watches him, "And how do you feel about all of that?"

Whizzer keeps his eyes on the endless blue above him, smiling in a way that hurts his face, "Happy."

"She's pregnant." Marvin says, measured and neutral.

A lot of things happen at once.

Charlotte sucks in a surprised breath, and Mendel drops the beer that he’d been holding, and Cordelia beams at Trina but squeezes Whizzer's hand tightly, and Whizzer—

For Whizzer, the entire room is spinning. He's surprised that he doesn't throw up.

"Oh." He exclaims faintly, more breath than word.

At that moment, Whizzer and Trina make eye contact, and he wildly expects a gloating expression on her face. After all, she's won, hasn't she? It's over. She's got him beat.

But there is no pride or boast in her gaze. Trina looks at him, and she smiles, and she just looks so genuinely happy. And it makes Whizzer feel disgusted with himself—for that day in the park, for sleeping with her boyfriend, for hating her.

"I'm happy for you." Whizzer tells her, holding her gaze. He doesn't mean it. From the way her smile dims, Whizzer thinks that she kinda knows that.

"You're going to have a family," Whizzer rationalizes, "I don't exist in that world."

"You exist in my world," Marvin says tightly, "That will never change."

In his dream, nothing is awful. He's in a crowded ballroom, feeling tipsy and happy and in love. Across the room, he spies Cordelia and Charlotte, getting drunk on champagne and giggling into each others’ ears. A few feet away from the two girls are Trina and Mendel, holding each other tight as they dance to the melodic melody echoing throughout the hall. Trina looks beautiful and happy in the arms of a man who loves her. Whizzer watches his friends laugh and fall in love, and he's struck with a sense of deep contentment. In his dream, he's happy.

Sturdy arms wrap around his torso, pulling him into an embrace from behind. Whizzer relaxes against Marvin, turning his head so the man can see the unadulterated adoration on his face.

"I love you." Marvin says, and it is beautiful in its offhanded nature. It means nothing and everything all at once.

"I love you, too." Whizzer admits finally, his voice aching with the honesty of it.

When he wakes up, Whizzer is alone in a cold bed.

"You know you can go to somebody whose actual job that is, right?" Whizzer says bluntly, looking down to fiddle with his camera so he won't see Trina's smile dim.

"Well, yes, I know," She admits slowly, caught off guard by his defensiveness, "But I just thought that it would be more special. You know, to be taken by a friend."

Friend. She thinks that they're friends. Well, that’s just—spectacular.

Whizzer nods, swallowing down the lump in his throat, "You're going to marry him." It isn't a question, so he doesn't phrase it like one. Of course Trina will say yes—because she's young and she wants so desperately to pretend that he loves her and she's always wanted the All-American, tight-knit family.

No, if he were to ask a question, it would be: He's going to marry you?

But that shouldn't be a surprise either. Of course Marvin will propose—because he's gay and he wants so desperately to pretend that he isn't and he's always wanted the All-American, tight-knit family.

Maybe they are perfectly suited together; they're both so willing to play into delusions and pretend that they're happy and everything happens for a reason and a marriage will somehow make things better.

At this point, Marvin and Trina have almost finished digging their own graves, but Whizzer himself still hasn’t broken the ground yet. Right now, he's still holding the shovel, trying to decide if it's all worth it, if he's all worth it.

"Okay." Whizzer says faintly, "I'll take the picture."

Trina hugs him, and even though her grip is light and her body is soft, Whizzer feels like he's being crushed.

This picture is a lot better, though Marvin looks into the camera with a pained smile and Trina is smiling like she does realize that she's delivering herself into a devouring mouth but just can't seem to help herself.

Whizzer makes sure to give her a look of solidarity; he knows the feeling.

Marvin huffs as he walks in, his back facing Whizzer, "It's never meaningless when we do it."

"Speak for yourself."

The muscles in Marvin's back tense, but he doesn't take the bait, "Why didn't you answer me?"

"Because I didn't want to," Whizzer says as he closes the door, sneering, "Is that alright with you? After all, my needs are always subservient to yours, aren’t they?”

"Stop it," Marvin commands, like Whizzer's some lapdog, "I don't want to fight right now."

"Why is it always about what you want, huh?" Whizzer demands, "I'm not just some mindless sex doll, Marvin. I have wants and needs, too."

"I know that," Marvin snaps, turning around to face him, "Of course I know that. You're Whizzer. I love you."

"You're Trina," The memory of Marvin's words hits him like a truck, "I love you."

"Trina was right,” Whizzer says coldly, “You really need to get new material." And the words are so meaningless to Marvin, he doesn't even seem to know what Whizzer is referring to.

"You're ruining her life. You're ruining your life." And once Whizzer has started, he just can't stop. Anger and frustration leak into his calculated voice, thickening it to the point of almost incoherency, "You're ruining the baby's life. You're ruining my life.” He hates pretending that it doesn’t bother him, that nothing has changed, that Whizzer can somehow fit into that family portrait. Because it does bother him and everything has changed and Whizzer doesn’t want to waste his life shadowing somebody else’s family and being fed breadcrumbs by a man too cowardly to be honest about what he wants.

Whizzer is trembling now, admissions and anxieties rising in his throat and gagging him.

But Marvin is perfectly composed, his eyes narrowed and mouth fixed in a sneer.

"How am I ruining your life," He asks sharply, "When apparently you don't love me anyway?" Whizzer doesn't answer. He can't.

"What, you want me to feel sorry for you?" Whizzer scoffs, his voice cold, brittle, ”Fuck you, Marvin. That's just another bullshit excuse. Everyone always has a choice. You're just making the wrong one and trying to blame it on the invisible gun to your head."

Marvin shrugs, Whizzer’s justifications lost on him, “I only play games that I know I'll win.”

“We both know that that’s not true.” Whizzer points out, smiling, “You’re playing one with me right now.”

“I said that you mean something to me because it’s the truth,” He scoffs, overwhelming disgusted with the both of them, “But that isn’t good enough for you, is it? You want to mean everything to me. But that will never happen.”

“I did all those things because I’m in love with you,” Marvin says after a long, agonizing pause, unflinching, “And you’re trying to fault me for that? For being nice to you and hoping against hope that you could ever learn to love me back? You call me selfish? You’re the one who’s been using how I feel to get yourself off. You’re the one who constantly reminds me that I am one of a dozen others. You’re the one who took advantage of a closeted guy who had his entire life figured out and ruined everything because you could—because you were bored.

“And now you get pissed at me for trying to get my shit together and be there for the woman who is having my child. What did you expect for me to do? Break up with her anyway so I could still just be one of your many booty-calls?” He scoffs, shrugging, “Maybe I am selfish, but at least I’m honest about it. You want to crucify me for wanting to have it all while you’re trying to pull the same shit by wanting me to abandon my kid and girlfriend when you won’t even tell me that you love me!”

“So, if I did choose you,” Marvin challenges, “Would you choose me? Would you stop fucking other guys and make me dinner and kiss me goodnight and tell me that you love me?”

“No.” It’s honest—brutally so. And it makes Whizzer so shocked at himself, has him forgetting his plan and looking up at Marvin.

Marvin nods like he expected that answer, but he looks like Whizzer broke his heart by confirming it.

“Trina does all those things for me,” He says tightly, “Because she loves me.”

Whizzer does things for him, too. He cooks for him and always gives him his honest opinion and calls Marvin out on his bullshit and challenges him to be better and encourages him to follow his stupid dream of theater and tries to get him to accept himself for who he is.

He does those things for him. Because he loves him.

"I'd love to meet them," Mr. Total-Dick-Face looks at the picture again, "To hear the rest of their story—the things that not even images can show." No, you really don't want to know.

Because it's a sad story—the kind that keeps getting bad and never gets any better; the kind that only has a few moments of happiness and lightheartedness but is overall fucking awful; the kind that no one really gets a happy ending.

And Whizzer wants to go back to how things were before—when it was just fun, with mouths pressed against inner thighs and secret glances when out with friends and arguing for the sake of getting the other to take his pants off.

But no, no, no, Whizzer wants to go back to how things were before even that—when they hated each other and it seemed like it would always stay that way, with mouths shooting off snappy retorts and pointed glares when out with friends and arguing just for the sake of hearing themselves talk.

Whizzer wishes that Marvin had never kissed him that day. He wishes that he himself could have been smart and kind enough to not kiss Marvin back.

But Whizzer doesn't dwell on past decisions and wrong choices. He refuses to lament on the past and instead keeps his eyes fixed on the horizon ahead.

Because he'll never be able to fix his mistakes but he can always run away from them.

Whizzer always walks away. And he never looks back.

"Look, I just don't care anymore." Whizzer tells them lowly, keeping his gaze trained on his beer bottle, "About any of it." He says those words with a strange amount of confidence for a man who had to drag himself out of bed and then had a full-fledged break down in the shower this morning.

"Did he cry?" Whizzer blurts out, "Over me?"

"Yes. And it was not a pretty sight," Charlotte hits his arm, "Stop smiling."

"I'm not." He lies stubbornly, turning away from her.

Though Marvin looks away immediately, Trina doesn't stop staring at it for a long time.

"That's not the picture you gave us." She says faintly, her tone and face unreadable. Her eyes are glued to the photograph, flickering from her own terrified face to Marvin's lovesick gaze directed at someone else.

"I took two, remember?" Whizzer says, trying to pawn off any of the tension, "I hope you don't mind." Trina finally looks at him then, and she knows. She finally knows. Whizzer can see it in her face.

Every single one of them wait for her reaction with baited breath.

"Of course I don't," Trina says, steeling her face and voice as her grip on Marvin's arm tightens, "It's beautiful. It shows the beginning of our family. Wouldn't you agree, Marv?" She takes the easy way out, pleading ignorance. For the sake of her relationship. For the sake of her kid. For the sake of her future.

Whizzer is disappointed in her.

"Yes," Marvin is stunned, looking as if he was gearing up to be defensive, “Baby, you look, uh, very beautiful in it. Glowing, even." At the compliment, Trina looks like she's trying very hard not to cry. She kisses Marvin then, slow and sweet and not letting him pull away. And Whizzer watches the two of them, like always. He's the dark cloud over them, the shadow, the observer, the open secret.

"Passion dies and love fades," Whizzer tells him roughly, "It's all just chemicals, isn't it? Come on; Don't be such a fucking romantic."

"You know, I always thought we had nothing in common," Mendel muses bitterly, smiling sadly at him, "But you're pathetic. Just like me."

The insult surprises him, coming from Mendel. Rather than lashing out, Whizzer just looks at him and doesn't say anything for a long time.

"Why did you come out here?" Whizzer asks, "Hoping for a quick screw in the back of an alley?”

"I don't know," Marvin admits quietly, dropping the coyness, "I don't know what I want."

"Stop it. You know what you want," Whizzer scoffs, "You want it all."

Marvin looks away, doesn't deny it.

He's giving Whizzer a choice, like he always does. Because Whizzer has always said yes. Because Whizzer has always put himself before anyone else. Because Marvin thinks that Whizzer never changes either.

And before this very moment, Whizzer had thought all those things too.

Right now, Whizzer has a choice. And for the first time, he makes the right one.

When Whizzer turns around, he reflexively snaps a picture of him, desperate to suspend this moment in time.

And Whizzer wants to kiss him—one last time. He wants to close his eyes and lick his lips and sigh into his mouth and breathe him in. He wants to memorize the feeling that this man has given him, the love and ache of it all.

He doesn't kiss him. He just sticks out his hand for him to shake.

And he keeps his gaze on the horizon. And he doesn't look back.

His gaze lingers when he gets to one of the nicer apartment buildings, a faint echo of pain igniting in his chest. All of a sudden, he's reminded of slamming doors and yelling in elevators and giggling in the soft glow of the refrigerator light and whispering half-hearted promises in between ragged breaths and moans.

Whizzer wonders if Marvin's old apartment is the same as he remembers it—spacious and messy; a safe haven and a battleground.

Shaking himself, Whizzer continues walking, keeping his gaze stubbornly fixed on the horizon. He doesn't look back at the building.

But there's a part of him that wants too. Maybe there always will be.

Youth. Ignorance. Selfishness. Whizzer doesn't miss any of it as much as he once believed he would.

"Take a breath and let it out, and swing." Jason finishes, smiling a little, "Thanks, Whizzer." And there's something about that lopsided smile and tilt of the head in that very moment—something that knocks all the air of Whizzer's lungs.

Jason's smile fades, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Whizzer says quickly, looking away, "You just, uh, reminded me of someone." And now that he sees it, he can't unsee it. The wavy hair, the brown eyes, the crooked smile...

“And you didn’t have another job lined up before you quit?” Charlotte asks, ever the practical one.

Whizzer shrugs, “It was kinda like an impulse decision. Like, I was in Ohio and it sucked, and I just didn’t want to be there anymore.”

Cordelia hits him on the arm, “Don’t blame this on Ohio.”

Whizzer rolls his eyes, exclaiming to get a rise out of her, “Fuck Ohio.”

New York hasn’t changed, but Marvin has.

“I divorced her.”

Whizzer stares at him, bewildered at the stranger before him, “Why would you do that?”

“Whizzer, I don’t know if you know this,” Marvin says calmly, straight-faced with zero inflection, “But I’m really fucking gay.”

Marvin reaches out again, threading his hand through Whizzer’s hair and messing up the hour worth of hair products that Whizzer dedicated to make it look just right. Whizzer tries to scold him and push him away, but right now the only thing he’s accomplishing is maintaining measured breathing. As Whizzer and Marvin lock eyes, he knows that they’re both thinking of the same thing—of Marvin pulling Whizzer’s hair all those times during sex, of holding him in place by his hair so Marvin can press tender, hurried kisses to his exposed neck and jawline.

Marvin pulls a little, and Whizzer bites his lip.

“Not wearing a wig, either,” Marvin comments lowly, smiling filthily, “Jesus, Whizzer, would it have killed you to gain a few pounds or lose some hair? You make the rest of us look so old.”

“Jesus, Marv, you’re at a little league game,” Trina scolds, snapping the two men out of their daze, “Keep it in your pants.”

Whizzer looks over at Marvin, who’s watching Whizzer with stars in his eyes.

“What?” He demands, defensive.

“You’re incredible,” He murmurs, almost absently to himself, “You know that?”

At least one thing hasn’t changed about Marvin.

He’s still very, very charming.

It’s like the universe is trying to get him laid. And Whizzer can’t just not do what the universe so clearly wants him to do:

Bone Marvin. The universe totally wants Whizzer to bone Marvin.

“I knew your dad,” Whizzer elaborates, not missing the slight trace of panic on Marvin’s face at the mention of the past, “We went to college together, actually.”

Jason just makes a lighthearted Hmpf, the significance of that time lost on him.

When Marvin finally comes back, Whizzer wastes no time, crowding him against the door and kissing him.

Marvin’s mouth is soft and warm, and just one kiss drives a chill from Whizzer’s bones that’s been there since he walked out of his boss’s office with his head held high and heart racing.

Whizzer kisses him once, chastely, before backing away.

Marvin’s eyes have already fallen shut, and his lips try to chase after Whizzer’s as he pulls away.

“What?” Marvin demands softly, opening his eyes again to stare mystically at him, “What’s wrong?”

It all feels so familiar, so second-nature. Whizzer remembers kissing him like that dozens of times before, whether to shut up his latest arrogant rant or to communicate feelings that he couldn’t with words.

He thought that it’d feel different—that it’d be different. But it’s not. It’s the exact same.

Whizzer doesn’t know whether to find that relieving or troubling.

Whizzer kisses him again, rougher this time—with more desperation and teeth. Marvin buckles against him, letting out a low, guttural groan like a wounded animal. He slips his hands around Whizzer’s waist and grabs his ass, and it’s good—fuck, it’s really good. Whizzer doesn’t so much as kiss him as devour him, his kisses quick and biting and prompting shaky, quivering noises to release from Marvin’s mouth.

Marvin breaks the kiss and turns his face to the crook of Whizzer’s neck, retracting one hand from the other’s ass to slip it down the front of Whizzer’s pants. When he touches him, Whizzer makes a sound so shameless and dirty, it makes Marvin flush even redder.

“Fuck. Fuck,” Marvin keeps repeating, laughing breathlessly, “I’ve missed that sound.” He rotates his wrist and makes Whizzer make it again.

“Take me to bed.” Whizzer says, pleads actually, “Marvin, come on. Take me to bed and fuck me.”

At his demand, Marvin shudders, making a gasping sort of sound almost like he’s drowning.

“Fuck yeah. Okay,” He says shakily as Whizzer impatiently starts tugging Marvin’s pants down, the hunger between them so palpable, it’s all that they can taste, “Okay.”

He hears Cordelia’s phone ring in the kitchen, followed by the blonde’s panicked voice, “It’s Marvin.”

“Answer it.” Charlotte instructs.

“Cordelia, don’t you dare!” Whizzer yells.

The two lock eyes for a split second before both bolt to the kitchen.

As they bust through the door, Cordelia already has the phone pressed to her ear, “Oh, hey, Marv. What’s up?” A pause, and then her gaze flickers to Whizzer, “You’re asking if Whizzer is here?”

Whizzer hurriedly, enthusiastically mouths the word No, No, No, No, No…

“You know,” Cordelia says nervously, biting her lip, “He actually just walked in.”

Whizzer makes an audible noise of surprise and betrayal.

Whizzer sighs, “Look, Marvin, what do you want?”

“What do I want?” Marvin repeats incredulously, “I want you, Asshole.”

It’s a sucker punch to the gut, causes Whizzer’s heart to jump to his throat.

He stutters out, “Will you settle for a cup of coffee instead?”

"During all those years,” Marvin asks suddenly, "Did you ever think of me?" It seems off-subject, but really, maybe it isn't. Because the answer seems important to Marvin, even though it won't change anything.

Whizzer pauses, biting his lip, “Sometimes.”

“All the time,” Marvin says quietly, “I thought about you all the time.”

"What else is there to do?" Marvin demands, and well, Whizzer can't say what he would rather do, right? Just friends may be able to 'compliment each other on their best features,' but they probably can't freely admit, I would really like you to fuck me so hard, I lose my voice from screaming your name.

Marvin huffs a laugh, and because he still never knows when to stop and drop something, he asks, "What's your type then?" It's a stupid, pointless question to ask, and it just seems weirdly uncalled for, given their history and all that Marvin already knows about Whizzer. Marvin knows his type already, but he still asks it. Because he's fishing for a certain answer, one that would assure him that Whizzer is just as silently miserable at being just friends as Marvin noticeably is.

And Whizzer could answer this question in many ways—the slutty any man who buys me a drink; or the coy men who have cruel smiles and nice hands; or the honest the unattainable sort of men; or the pointed the type that lets you hold them and kiss them but never keep them; the type that will always say that they love you and they may very well even mean it, but they'll never be willing to meet you halfway.

Whizzer calmly uncovers his face, calmly sits up, and uncalmly says, "Come again?"

Living with Marvin, sharing a home with Marvin, is easy. They eat breakfast and dinner together, and they watch shitty cable television in the evening, and they bicker about weird domestic things like the electricity bill (Whizzer’s fault) and the mysterious dent in the living room wall (Marvin’s fault), and they entertain Jason on the weekends, and it’s all just so—

Domestic. So disgustingly, repellently, achingly domestic.

“So, you two were good friends?” Jason suddenly asks, causing both men to remember themselves and break eye contact. Whizzer notices that Jason is paying full attention to them now, his phone laying forgotten on the table as he stares pointedly at the two men sitting across from him.

“No, I don’t think we were,” Marvin says honestly after a beat, “That’s what caused the problem.”

And this is why Whizzer has to always look toward the horizon—because looking back leads to nostalgia and sadness and the overwhelming desire to recapture the past.

“You’ve been testing me,” Marvin says, oddly sounding both sad and hateful, “You don’t think I realized that? You want me to prove this preconception in your head that you’ve built up for years. You think everyone else is capable of change except me.”

Whizzer stays silent, not answering. Marvin looks a little broken.

"Then what are you still doing here?" He demands roughly.

Seeing him shattered like that, it takes awhile before Whizzer can find his voice, and even when he does, it’s small and broken, "Maybe I want you to prove me wrong."

"Bullshit. I've been proving you wrong," Marvin points out, "You want me to prove you right."

"Whizzer, I already told you," Marvin says, horrifyingly calm, "I’m too old to be chasing after people who only want to be chased and not caught." Whizzer belatedly places the vague look on Marvin’s face.

It is one of a man who is ready to let go.

Gripped with shock and fear and denial, Whizzer doesn't respond and walks out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Marvin doesn't ask him to wait, to stop, to stay.

As he walks away, Whizzer doesn’t look at the horizon. With each step, he keeps stopping and turning his head and looking back, expecting Marvin to still—without fail—to chase after him.

But the only thing chasing him is the past, and Whizzer refuses to let that actually catch up with him.

"You've grown meaner." Whizzer notes idly, an undercurrent of appreciation for her in his voice.

"I've had to." Trina says vaguely.

"Trina, I'm really sor—"

"Don’t. Just—don’t. I don't need your late, guilt-tripped apology." Trina scoffs, exasperation and bitterness clogging her tone, "I don't need this anymore, you know? This—This migraine that you two have always given me. I'm not a side character in the Great Opera of Whizzer and Marvin anymore. I have a child and husband who love me. I have a life where I am happy. I got my happy ending."

"I didn't." The words spill out, accusing and pitiful.

Trina doesn't look sorry for him. She gives him a cool, withering look, "Well, that was your own fault."

"It was Marvin's fault," Whizzer tells her, and he wants back that silent, subtle gaze of hers, that solidarity—he wants her to make him feel less alone, "He ruined us, Trina. He—"

"Us? There is no us. Oh my god, are you serious right now?" Trina looks at him with scathing disappointment, "Jesus, Whizzer, you want me to feel sorry for you? News flash: just because Marvin was a bigger asshole than you doesn't take away from the fact that you were an asshole, too. We are not allies in this, Whizzer—not anymore. And honestly, looking back on it all? I don't think we ever were."

They talk and listen and laugh and cry. And Whizzer wants to say that it had been everything that he thought it would be—renewal of passions, happiness only found within one another, the promise of a future together, the promise of love—but it is not everything. It is only one thing.

It is forgiveness. And Whizzer thinks that right now, that’s more than enough.

Whizzer doesn’t like to look back, to admit to any regrets, but still he needs to know, “Would you do it again? If you—If you knew then all that happened afterwards. Would you have still kissed me that night?”

Whizzer remembers his own response to that question, years ago: "It doesn't matter," Whizzer says quickly, releasing his grip on Marvin's hand, "Just let it go."

“I’d like to believe I would,” Marvin doesn’t hesitate, saying firmly, “That I’d do it again and again. That I would choose you, every time.”

Whizzer looks up at the sky, feels a warm smile spread across his face. He feels happy.

“I’d like to believe that I’d let you, every time.” Whizzer concedes.

Whizzer covers Marvin’s hand with his own, the giddiness and hope rising within him and threatening to split him open. They stare at each other for a long time—adoringly, nervously, disbelievingly—before they slowly turn their gaze to the horizon.

And they don’t look back.

#oh my this is long i am so sorry mobile readers #i put a read more so i tried but i just screwed you guys over #but um??? so these are my fave excerpts #if anyone cared #it's so crazy how you can just see the improvement as you read #im proud of myself #this fic isnt perfect but i love it #it's not bad at all #a l s o #if anyone would - like - draw fan art of these moments or make moodboards or something #i would d i e #of happiness #but wow - i think i hit all the good quotes #but if you want add some that i missed #but um??? this is long im sorry

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reveriesforyou · 8 years ago

Text

The Bookstore

Hey guys! It’s me again, and I sorta wanted to write a Tom meet-cute because I daydream about those 25/8? This is just soft, fluffy and sweet, I hope you like it! Author’s note: Tom is my screensaver and I went to Barnes and Noble today and the girl that was ringing me up was really, really nice and we were talking about Marvel because I was buying a comic, (I finally found Spider-Man Blue, three cheers for me!) and she was literally like, “oh my gosh, you and Tom would be super adorable together! I can just see it now!” And I sort of died? So this is just a story branching off of that? The Bookstore “Is that your boyfriend?” The saleslady asked, referencing the girl’s phone, as a smile that stretched from ear to ear crossed over her features. “He comes in quite often, has mostly good taste in books, although, sometimes his choices are questionable at best. Likes fantasy and adventure, some good, some not.” The girl’s eyes widened and her mouth flopped open and shut like a guppy’s as she attempted to stutter out an appropriate response. Tom Holland was the girl’s screensaver, and no, he most definitely wasn’t her boyfriend because he had no idea that she existed. Even if he had stumbled across her fan account, she’d just be another fan to Tom, maybe she’d even stand out for being an ultimate creep. “He’s a very polite boy, you’re so lucky! My daughters are only interested in self-obsessed assholes.” The lady began to scan her choices, continuing to rant about her daughter’s apparent bad taste in men. The girl was still struggling to comprehend her situation. The saleswoman clearly knew Tom, who apparently came in often, as did she, so she couldn’t really say that he wasn’t her boyfriend without looking like an utter and complete weirdo. Pondering, she bit the inside of her cheek. Their paths had never crosses, so what could be the harm in indulging in a little fantasy? “We’ve been dating since last Spring,” She said, not daring to look into the kind eyes of the saleswoman. “Ah, I see. I bet you two look absolutely adorable together, maybe turn him onto some high quality literature next time he comes in, eh?” The woman smiled from across the counter, waving the girl’s new Philip Roth books in the air before handing them over. Reaching for her five purchases, the girl smiled and nodded, “I’ll do my very best!” She called and waved as she left the store. Over the next few days, Tom wandered back into the bookstore. Navigating his way down the store’s narrow aisles, Tom searched for something that he could read on the plane that he’d inevitably be boarding sometime soon. He paused every so often to pick up a book, glance over the summary on the back, and reshelve it to it’s proper home. After shuffling down another section, he came across the very same saleswoman who had helped the girl moonlighting as his girlfriend. “How come you guys never come in together? She knows some good authors, I’m sure she’d love to help broaden your horizons.” The saleswoman said, maintaining her position, crouched over to straighten and tidy the shelves. Tom looked around, unsure of who the woman was speaking to, because as far as he knew, none of his friends knew about this store. They opted for Barnes and Noble, while he prefered to dig. “Yes, you. I just met your girlfriend and she’s lovely. Great taste in books.” The woman said again. Scratching his head, Tom wasn’t exactly sure what to say, so he played along, not wanting to be rude. Surely she must be confusing him with someone else, because he didn’t have a girlfriend to share books with, as much as he’d like one. “Yeah, we just have different schedules, she’s usually in class when I peruse the bookstore.” Tom said, bending down to help the woman on the floor. “She’s very cute, and very sweet. It’s nice to see young people reading something that isn’t their twitter feed.” The woman said, taking one last glance at the fixed up shelf, before nodding decisively and standing up. Tom stood as well, chuckling, “My Dad’s an author, so reading has always been apart of my life.” “You guys are lovely, let me know if I can be of any help.” The woman began to walk away and Tom shook his head and laughed. “How do you know that my girl is my girl? We never come in at the same time.” Tom asked suddenly, curiosity leaking into his bloodstream. “She comes in more often than you, buys more books than you, and you’re her screensaver. It’s quite cute, actually.” The saleslady called out. There it is, Tom thought, she might be a fan. He couldn’t think of any other reason that he’d be her screensaver. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Tom smirked and picked out not one, but two books. One to leave at the register for her the next time that he came in, and one for him to read while he was on the press tour. “That is so thoughtful! She’ll love it!” The woman said from behind the cash register, clapping her hands together. “I’ll make sure that she gets it, alright? Wanna put a little message in it, promise I won’t peak! I’ve got a pen right here!” She chirped happily. “Yeah, alright, I’ll actually do that. Could I please borrow your pen?” Tom asked. Drawing a heart to conclude the note to his ‘girlfriend’ that he’d never met, he said thank you one to the lady one last time and left the store. The very next morning, the girl pushed her wallet back into her purse at the bookstore’s register, waiting for the same saleswoman to finish ringing her up. “Saw your boyfriend yesterday, left a little something for you.” The saleswoman smiled, turning around to sift through the books on display behind her to find Tom’s choice for the girl. The girl felt the fiery licks of scarlet coloring her skin again. Her hands shook, surely Tom thought that she was a mega, ultra stalker. He’d probably left her a note begging her to kindly fuck off. She wished Mother Earth would swallow her up the same way it did to Sita in ‘The Ramayana.’ “Don’t be embarrassed, silly, it’s endearing.” The woman handed her a book titled, ‘Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair’ by Pablo Neruda. “He’s paid for it, of course, and he left you a little note on the first page. Lent him the pen myself.” “He really shouldn’t have,” the girl stuttered, her hands almost noticeably shaking as she held the book within her palms. Inside, Tom had scribbled out, Seeing as you’re my girlfriend, I thought it was only fitting to leave you at least twenty love poems. Left you a song of despair as well, seeing as we haven’t met yet. Love always, Your devoted boyfriend, Tom

“Could I go back and pick one out for him as well?” The girl asked, feeling a tiny bit braver after reading Tom’s cheeky message for her. “Of course! I love this, I wish more couples did things like this for each other, it’s endearing!” The saleswoman smiled, shutting the register. After picking out an appropriate novel, she left the store, smiling, blushing and practically gliding on air. Later that very afternoon, Tom was chased by the overbearing coldness of the afternoon breeze, and his own excitement over whether or not she’d received his present, back into the bookstore. Not even bothering to look at anything, he came to a halt in front of the saleswoman, who upon seeing him enter, tore through her display to retrieve the novel that she’d left for him. “Did she get it? Did she like it, I haven’t heard from her yet.” Tom asked, beaming at the woman. “She loved it! She loved it so much, in fact, that she’s left one for you as well.” She handed him a novel called ‘One Day.’ “She’s left a love note for you as well!” Tearing the book open, Tom came across her delicate handwriting sprawled in black ink. Here’s to hoping that I meet you one day. With all the love in my heart- Your mystery girlfriend Fighting the urge to hug the book closer to his chest, Tom made a choice. “I’m going to go pick her a book out right now, and I’m going to wait right here until she comes back in. I want to give her this one in person.” Tom turned on his heel to search for the perfect book for to give her, when the saleswoman informed him that she’d already been in today. “Alright then, I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.” Tom blushed, but continued on his way down through the shelves, desperate to find the perfect book for her. Deciding on ‘You,’ by Caroline Kepnes, Tom paid and left the store, planning to return right when the bookstore opened. The very next morning, Tom was perched in a cushy, plush chair, obscured by stacks and shelves housing novels, waiting for her. He’d positioned himself perfectly, ensuring that he could see the register at all times, but that the people at the register wouldn’t be able to spot him, unless they knew where he was hiding. He was completely on edge. Every time the door opened, he’d practically leap to his feet, only to be met with disappointment because mostly everyone who wandered in off the street was either male, or too old to be his mystery girlfriend. Finally, when Tom had all but lost hope, a girl so otherworldly beautiful that Tom truly debated in his mind whether or not the girl was even a girl, he briefly wondered if she was an ethereal fairy of sorts, floated into the room. Her hair reflected light the same way that waves in the sea did, and her voice was so soft and warm that it sounded as he imagined his favorite hot drink would taste. She waved hello to the saleswoman before diving into the poetry section, hidden deep within the store. Jumping to his feet, Tom rushed to finally meet her, rolling the book he planned to give her in between his palms. Checking his hair one more time, Tom came to a stop next to her. “Excuse me miss, I was just wondering if you happen to be my mystery girlfriend, who apparently has better taste in books than me?” Tom’s confidence was evaporating as she turned around to face him. She was even prettier up close and Tom wanted to scratch his own eyes out for beginning the conversation with such a shit line. Thankfully, she smiled, a strawberry jam colored blush widening across her delicate features. “That would be me, but unfortunately, you’ve caught me off guard and now I don’t have anything to give to you.” Her eyes refused to meet his own for more than a few seconds. She could barely believe any of this. First, her celebrity crush and her happened to both shop at the same bookstore. Then, he goes along with the charade of being her boyfriend, and even leaves her gifts, and now, he was standing in front of her. He looked like Prince Charming and her brain was turning to mush. “Lucky for you, I don’t mind. But, I do have a book for you.” Holding the novel, ‘You,’ out to her, he began to sway from foot to foot, nervous that she’d hate it. “Funny enough, that’s one of my favorite books,” She laughed, “But are you planning to kill me?” She referenced the plot of ‘You,’ which was more or less a horror story, hardly the conventional romance. Stuttering, Tom attempted to clear his name. “I just thought it was fitting, seeing as we met in a bookstore, and so did Joe and Beck,” the main characters who become romantically involved in the novel, “And really, I just wanted you to have the line about the mouse in the house.” “Are you going to get a cat to chase me out?” She teased, and Tom laughed. “Absolutely not, you’re just all I’ve been thinking about. I wanna know you, and learn from your apparently epic choices in literature.” Tom said, leaning in closer to her. “Than sit, and I’ll pick you something out?” She questioned, shyly moving to sit on the floor, her arm curled around more than a few options. The pair scooched into one another one the floor, and the saleswoman watched, smiling from her spot at the register. Her two favorite customers were finally together. Her eyes twinkled as she turned the radio onto a station that played only love songs. They read love poems, and love stories together, so it only seemed fair that they listened to only love songs as well.

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