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friendlyneighborhoodhorrornerd · 7 months ago

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"Icebox"

Maybe it's just frost.

That's what my stomach says, anyway. It's a fridge, it's supposed to be cold, you could just reach out and wipe it away, letting it melt in your fingers and finally eat. If it's just frost, then think of all the perfectly good food you could be eating—strawberries, orange juice, mashed potatoes, carrots, anything you wanted. All you have to do is let the condensation melt away.

I think that's my stomach, anyway. I can't be sure.

I don't know how long I’ve been here. I tell myself it’s just the storm blocking out the sun, trying to fight the thought rising to the surface that there is no sun, there's never been a sun, just an endless snow, growing and growing, reaching into the house to find something to feed on.

Maybe I'm lucky. Even without any noticeable heating, this cabin seems to be protecting me from the blizzard, at least a bit. My fingers are mostly numb, and whenever I wake up my feet feel like blocks of frozen ham from a butcher shop, but I still wake up, and haven’t lost any toes. It seems like it’s insulated just enough to keep the temperature survivable, assuming I bundle up.

It can’t go any higher, though. This cabin isn't designed for warmth.

The first thing I found in the fridge was a bunch of bananas. I had just entered for the first time, trying to escape the blizzard, and I had some trail snacks still on me, but I didn't know how long the storm would last, and didn’t want to run out of food while waiting for it to clear.

At first, they were a relief, an extra store of food to sustain me. The first pangs of hunger were starting to hit me, so without thinking I reached out, but suddenly stopped, fingers hovering just above the skin. They were browning in places, bruises digging into the peels like infected scars, spots appearing like hives. Other spots were still green, simultaneously unfinished and already decaying. One's skin was split, the ends curling both away from and into themselves, the edges of the exposed flesh tinged with the first tendrils of the expanding rot.

I decided it would be wise to ration. Settling in, I ate my trail snacks and went to sleep.

My dreams were surprisingly pleasant at first. I sat curled up on the couch of my childhood living room, a crackling fireplace keeping me warm as the snow grew in the windows. I had a hot chocolate in my hand, fluffy white marshmallows floating on the surface, somehow not dissolving.

The warmth filled my stomach as I drank, settling the leftover hunger pangs. The taste sent me back in time with the rest of the room, swirling chocolate with hints of peppermint, the cocoa my mother made for me when I came back in from the cold, holding me safe.

Then I swallowed one of the marshmallows.

It crashed into the drink, distorting the swirling vanilla and peppermint into rot. It was bitter, like citrus and fluoride toothpaste, and it dissolved as soon as it hit my tongue and coated my mouth and throat. I gagged, trying to expel it, but instead it slithered down my throat, a writhing mass in my stomach coated in razor blades.

I woke up suddenly, sweat almost frozen on my skin, stomach growling angrily.

I returned to the fridge, cursing myself for my previous disgust. The rotting fruit was gross, sure, but it didn't look inedible, not yet anyway. If you can make banana bread with brown bananas, they must be still safe to eat, right?

The decay had continued, brown rings forming around the base of each stem, spots spreading and festering and bulging with pus. Now, next to the bananas, there was a bowl of strawberries, similarly decaying, flesh turning brown and purple with leather rot.

Once again, I reached out, determined to fight my gut reaction of disgust. Nothing there was inedible, just bruised a bit. Besides, they weren't going to get any less overripe, waiting would just make it worse.

And once again, I stopped, fractions of an inch above the rotting skin.

Lining the split in the skin of the banana was a thin fuzzy white line, mimicking the snow keeping me outside. As I looked, I saw it more and more, poking out of the pustules, lining the edges of the strawberry bowl, hiding underneath the leaves, even lining the shelves of the fridge itself.

I tried to push forward, telling myself it was just frost. My stomach groaned, as if begging for me to end its misery.

But the remnants of the marshmallow stuck in my mouth, twinging every time I saw the white masses consuming my only source of food.

I closed the fridge.

I busied myself for the next few hours searching the house for anything else of use. The fridge had power, so the it must come from somewhere. Maybe there was heating, waiting in the bowels of the house for me to turn it on.

There was nothing. The house was empty apart from some sparse wooden furniture, wallpaper peeling, everything blending into a dull brown in the darkness.

I went back to the fridge. Maybe it was just frost, and if it wasn't it probably hadn't spread to everything, and if it had it would still probably be better than starvation, at least according to my snarling intestines. I could find a hospital once the storm let up, I just had to survive until then.

The fuzz was spreading. Multiple pustules had burst, covering more of the fruit in the ice-like growths. A few strawberries seemed to have been completely engulfed, and a hole looked to be burrowing into one of the larger ones, the edges of a rotting scab covered by the white growth.

Now, though, behind the fruit, there were the legs of a turkey, grease congealing underneath. They were raw, but I might be able to cook them with the extra wooden furniture, assuming I managed to avoid burning the cabin to the ground.

I reached out, arcing my arm away from the growths reaching up from the fruit.

Something underneath the skin of one of the legs began to squirm.

I slammed the door again, stumbling and collapsing against the far wall. My stomach was screaming, trying to force my feet up, but they wouldn't budge, and in the haze of hunger and disgust, I began to drift off again.

I was back in my old living room, hot chocolate in hand. The snow had covered the windows, creeping in through the edges of the panes. The marshmallows were larger, bulging in places, the bitter taste seeping into the drink and wafting into the air.

There was no table, nowhere to put it down, so I held onto it, thankful at least for the opportunity to warm my hands. I gagged a few times, stomach acid rising in my throat, as if trying to reach out to take the bitter drink. I kept it down.

I heard my mother's voice from the other room. “Aren’t you hungry?”

I woke up in a sweat again. The room had gotten colder, and instead of being against the wall I was in the middle of the floor, closer to the fridge, as if pulled towards it overnight.

The palms of my hands itched. I took off my gloves, expecting they had just gotten too sweaty, but instead they were red and splotchy, a few hives popping up. They felt hot, lingering from the mug, and around the edges of one of the hives white fuzz was starting to grow.

I got up, frantically trying to wipe my hands clean. My face flashed hot, pulsing with my now-hammering heartbeat. The fuzz wiped off onto my clothing, but was still on my hand, as if all I had done was spread it further.

I stumbled to the fridge and shoved it away from the wall. There had to be some kind of cable or air vent on the back if it was still functioning. Even if nothing inside it was edible, I could at least use that.

In place of a cable, there was a vein, stretching and pulsing into a scab in the wall. Lesions ran along its length, green and yellow flesh leaking pus, covered in small spots of the same white fuzz.

I ran, throwing open the door into the storm, not bothering to put back on my gloves. My hands continued to throb feverishly, momentarily staving off frostbite. After a minute of fighting through the waist-deep bank blocking the door I fell through, collapsing onto a much thinner layer, and broke into a half-crawling sprint. There still wasn’t any sunlight, the swirling snow blocked what little vision I had, but I didn't care. Even if I died of hypothermia, I just needed to get away from that house.

I ran for hours, days, centuries, memories of anything other than the storm and the house growing fuzzy like the snow, flashing between frostbite and fever, what was before a forest fading into an endless white desert, flat in every direction. The snow blew into my mouth, weaving around my scarf, bitter and savory and sweet and sour and bloody and rotten. My legs stiffened like icicles, ready to shatter in a moment’s notice. When they finally gave way, I looked up, just barely making out the outline of the cabin through the swirling white fuzz, unwilling to let me go.

I woke up inside again, sitting in one of the few chairs in the cabin, the room having morphed into a distorted twin of my living room, the fridge, cold and fuzzy and slowly growing, taking the place of the fireplace. One hand had frozen around a mug, paint faded, white fuzz spilling out and into my frozen skin.

I haven’t tried to leave since.

In my dreams, the living room warps, snow creeping and growing in from the outside, the voice of my mother warping with it to become cold and bitter and fuzzy until I can no longer remember what it originally sounded like, slowly growing and infecting what little I remembered of the time before.

"Why won't you eat?" it asks. "I'm trying to take care of you, to keep you safe. Why don't you trust your own mother?"

It's not my mother. It never was.

Food keeps appearing in the fridge. Mashed potatoes, pork ribs, ground beef, orange juice, milk, carrots and salad and anything I could ever want. The vegetables rot and the meat squirms, all of it coated in the bitter snow.

The bananas disappeared a few days ago. I don't know where they went. I don’t think I ate them, I don’t think I ever could, but my memories are growing fuzzy, I'm dozing off more often, always waking up somewhere different. My stomach aches all the same.

This has to end.

I open the fridge for the last time. The fuzz is gone, all of the food perfect and mouth-watering. I know it’s a lie, though. My mouth froze shut a few days ago anyway.

One by one, I take out the shelves, careful not to touch the food I know still held that rot beneath the surface.

The fridge empty for the first time since I arrived, I climb inside, closing the door behind me, plunging me into darkness. The mug feels warm in my hand, and as my thoughts drift to black, I smell the mix of peppermint and cocoa and vanilla again, welcoming me.

Whoever comes here next will have something to eat, at least.

#original story #tw: food #tw: eating disorder #tw: isolation #tw: mold #tw: starvation

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blissfulparker · 4 years ago

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Wipeout⇔ Surfer!Dad!tom

Parings: surfer!dad!tom x surfer!reader

Summary; You and Tom spend your whole relationship in the water. Surfing under the summer sun and competing in summers biggest surf competition. To a surpise, you and Tom take on the biggest challenge nature could throw at you. A baby.

Wc: 9k

Warnings: mentions of insecurities durning pregnancy, fluff

A/n: I know this isn’t a birthday themed fic for Toms b-day but I hope you all enjoy! My little spin on a summer fic with dad!tom 🥰

June.

The summer breeze rose goosebumps to your skin. Your hands coming up to rub your arms as the water was only a bit colder today.

it was summer, the best part of the year when you lived with a beach in your backyard. Spending your whole life surfing you now prepared for the summer tournament that happened only weeks away from now. Surfers, fans, media come in from nearly all over the world just to compete.

To feel a wave under their boards and the adrenaline that rushes through your blood when you finally get on top. The same competition that lead you to Tom, Tom who was now your boyfriend of two years. At first, you laughed at the boy.

Pale, shy—yet so cocky and from London of all places. The most water they got is from the sky. You wanted to laugh with your friends for how confident he was acting, little rain boy wanted to have a chance in the big ocean and he did. To your shock, he scored better than you and scored to be in the top 10. Your laughs stopped after competition and maybe it was the slight momentary enemy thing or it was that deep blue bikini that made him find you after the games and get you out for a drink.

That drink was truly a shared basket of fish and chips as you talked more and more about each other. Pale, rainy London boy ended up being the best thing that ever happened to you.

“You wiped out twice!” He sits atop his board and your hands rub over your face.

“Maybe because I’m distracted!” You splash water in his direction. His toned abs always tanner during g this year and it was hard for the both of you to control yourself. “I’m just tired, stressed.” You shrugged it off truthfully.

“You fell asleep at 8:00 last night, grandma.” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Competition stress.” You point to him and he shrugs. If he’s honest, within the two years he’s known you, two years he’s loved and wondered where you had been all his life, he knew your stress. When you were stressed you oftentimes took long showers or wrote in your journal for hours on end but this time your stress was sleeping early/in late and a few times he’s caught you throwing up. All under the name of stress.

He didn’t push anything though, reminding you that he is there and you could tell him anything. But nonetheless, he left you be and just kissed your cheek and told you everything was okay.

“Race you to shore and whoever gets back inside first gets the leftover chicken from last night!” He starts to swim and you quickly flatten yourself on your board.

“What are we like five?” You call out but still push yourself to go faster. Pushing yourself to race him to shore.

Even though Toms board was definitely double his size, he still beat you into the house, already washed off and reheating the leftovers for lunch. After a morning swim you always had lunch before you went off to work where you would teach little kids how to surf. No matter what, you were always around the water.

“So I was checking the competition list this week, checking to see if there’s anyone new…” he trails off on a story. The two of you share the chicken and fries before you suddenly get a disgusted taste in your mouth. The chicken suddenly becomes sour in your mouth but you force yourself to swallow, Tom notices the change and he stops everything to make sure you’re okay.

“Darling, what is it?” He has a worried look but you shake your head.

“Nothing—it’s nothing. I-I just think this part of my chicken was a bit undercooked and it grossed me out. It’s nothing.” You smiled at him and he waited a second before continuing his story.

But that wasn’t the end of it, the next bite even more sour and this time you drop your fork and open the trash can to spit it out. The spitting then followed by spitting up all of your breakfast and lunch. Tom quickly coming to move any stray hair and rubbing your back as he tried to not throw up himself.

When you were done, he quickly closed the trash can lid and got you into the bathroom where he assembled the toothbrush for you.

“Peaches, I know that you told me not to worry but this is the third time this week.” He folded his arms as he leans against the wall.

“I’m fine.” You say through a mouth filled with toothpaste. Spitting into the sink and rinsing your mouth while also splashing some water over your face. When you look back up, just a bit, your eyes flicker to the untouched box of tampons.

One week late wasn’t so bad, one week late was just some built up stress and every women had been a week or two late before. But before tom can take notice in your distraction, you turn around to him who hands you a towel.

“But you’re not fine.” He argues a bit gently, not wanting to offend you.

“Tom, in school I would throw up during exam seasons all the time. It’s just stress okay? Better than losing hair or breaking out I guess.” You try and joke with him but he doesn’t exactly laugh. Just stares at you worried and you push back a few of his curls.

“Hey, look at me,” you tell him and his eyes meet yours. “I’m fine, seriously! Just a bit of stress and nothing the ocean water and you can’t fix.” You kiss his cheek and he finally smiles.

“Can you go see a doctor? For yourself and if not for yourself then for me, I want you to do good at competition and you know they won’t let you compete if you are sick in anyway.” He rubs up and down your sides and you sigh. Hating the doctors but you agree.

“Okay, okay. I’ll make an appointment but they will just tell me I just have butterflies.” You tell him and that’s when he grows a smirk.

“Aw, babe, I didn’t know after all these years I still gave you butterflies!” He teased and you rolled your eyes playfully nudging your body against him. Both leaving the bathroom, your eyes flicker over to the untouched box to tampons that just taunt you one last time before tom shuts the bathroom door. It was possible, you just didn’t want it to be possible just yet.

“I should’ve canceled, I should be there!” Tom speaks through the phone. You sat in an empty, cold doctors office waiting for blood results to get back.

Despite Toms over worrying, everything was fine. They couldn’t find anything physically wrong with you and agreed when you mentioned how it was just anxiety and nerves. Yet they still had to run a blood test to make sure it wasn’t anything they missed and couldn’t see with the naked eye.

Meanwhile tom had to be the most dramatic person out there. You always told him if he was not a surfer he would be an actor. It was impressive how every single night before bed he had a new condition to diagnose you with. Some so severe and outrageous you had to remind him that this wasn’t 1600s England and that you didn’t have the plague. That things were just from stress and if it was a stomach bug then let it run through.

Yet he would rant to you nearly every single night about how he’s always loved you and hated that this was the way to go. Always with that you would smack him with a pillow and tell him to go to sleep and with that he would kiss your cheek and hold you tight as he fell asleep.

“Tom, it’s fine. Seriously! They said they couldn’t find anything wrong, you’d be wasting your time to come here. The most you’d get out of this visit is maybe a sticker. Does Tommy want his girlfriend to bring him back a sticker?” You used a baby voice and you could practically hear him going red.

With a scoff he replies, “Ugh, no. What am I like five?” He pauses for a moment. “But what kind do they have? Were you able to check?” He asked in more of a quiet voice and you laugh.

“No clue. But the nurse told me the best thing I could do is just drink some tea and rest. Maybe they have some spiderman stickers or Sofia the first stickers.” You fiddle with the loose thread on your pants. Ending with a joke to calm both yours and Tom's nerves.

With a smirk, Tom Says, “you’ve been drinking some British tea for awhile—“ he jokes and you quickly cut him off.

“Tom!” You say and as if it was a sign, the nurse comes back in with a clipboard and a gentle smile. “Hey, I’ll call you back, the nurse has my results.”

“Wait! Before you go, ask them to check for tapeworms—“ before he could finish you hung up.

“He’s just dramatic.” You laughed a bit and the nurse laughed along before taking a seat across from you. She clicks her pen which makes you nervous for some reason.

“So your blood came back fine, everything is okay. I just have a few little things such as are you on any birth control?” She asked and you shook your head.

“Oh no, um...haven’t been for a while. But my boyfriend and I use protection and we’re safe. We only used planB once and that was a year ago.” You tell her but she looks up at you. Nodding as she purses her lips.

“Condoms only go so far sweetheart. We just have to ask patients who we find to be with a child incase of any birth control so we can remove it immediately, the birth control, I mean, remove that immediately.” With child. You were with a child. Pregnant. Your heart nearly falls out of your chest and the nurse says a few more things but they don’t register.

“Y-You mean there’s a baby inside of me?” You don’t know what color you look right now but you would assume pale, or green with the feeling of vomiting and this time not from slightly uncooked raw leftover chicken.

“Yup, about one month along it looks! We still will want to run more tests and…” she talks more and more but you don’t listen. Your brain foggy, you don’t know if you’re going to pass out or throw up or shit everywhere from how nervous you were. Hell, even all three seemed like an option as she talked. “So I’ll leave you to tell the important news?” She asked. This was apart of her regular day to day, she probably had hundreds of girls like you come in. Clueless and thinking of a stomach bug and then finding out they are pregnant.

“Y-Yeah.” You try to form a smile.

“Perfect, just meet me up at the desk whenever you’re ready. There’s a bathroom down the hall if you are feeling queasy and of course, help yourself to as many waters in the mini fridge in our waiting room. Congratulations!” She says before she turns out and all you hear is the door click shut. The white noise of the light and the taps of your fingernails against the cool metal bed.

You know it was professional and sweet of her to allow you space to call your significant other but you only stare at Tom's contact. Staring at the word ‘Tommy’ with almost all the heart emojis and his contact pictures of him with the biggest smile.

You have no guts to tell him right in the moment, but rather get off of the paper coated bed and grab your things to leave. Setting up a new appointment with your doctor to see more into the baby. Pregnant, with child, before competition. You and Tom were going to have a faimily.

July.

Tom still hadn’t known the news. It had only been a week but the guilt still ate you alive.

You didn’t want to worry or stress him. You yourself still tried to wrap your brain around it. A baby, every breath you took, every bite of food you ate, every drink you swallowed and every step you took there was a baby you shared it with.

You think about how every time tom had wrapped his arms around your waist this week he gently touched over the baby. Kissing your lying lips, you hated yourself for it.

As for competition, your mind nearly forgot. Still getting in the waters everyday with Tom but this time a bit more cautious. Everytime Tom worried for you, you quickly would cover his worry up with either a joke or kisses.

As for the throwing up, morning sickness was something that came in and out. You started hating the smell of bacon tom cooked in the morning but just waved it off. He noticed your decline in caffeine and beers and wines but you just told him the best athletes only had what’s best for their body before performing.

Tom believed all of it. Every single white lie you told—even though you hated yourself for telling them— believed them.

“How ya feeling?” Toms lips met your forehead as you cuddled up on the couch today. Extra tired and almost positive the baby was screaming at you for rest. You cuddled a bowl of popcorn and a water bottle.

“Mmh, just fine.” You give him a smile as his lips come down to meet yours.

Stealing some popcorn from the bowl, he heads over to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

“I’m thinking we do shrimp tonight?” He looked over and you made a face.

“Ew, no.” You shake your head and he gives a furrowed brow look.

“What? You love shrimp!” He responds and you feel yourself growing hot. Hiding deeper in the Blanket and not wanting to show your face.

“Well, I’m just not in the mood for it tonight.” That was another thing, lots and lots of emotions. Luckily Tom had plenty of emotions to match.

“Okay...tuna?” He offers and you shook your head. “Steak?” Once again and no. “Chicken?” No. “Okay, love, you’ve gotta help me out. I know you’re not feeling well but I’m helpless in here.” He says and your eyes start to water. He notices and immediately comes over.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he comes in front of the couch and crouches down to you. “What’s wrong?” He stroked your cheek and you shook your head.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” You sniffle. “Seriously, I’ll help you. I’m thinking pasta.” You smiled and he did too.

“Yeah that’s not too bad.”

And so you two made and ate dinner completely normally. No tears from you, no sickness from you. Tom only talked about the waves out today and how much you would’ve loved it. Now you two spent time washing up.

“You think that one girl with red hair will be there like last year? She was so annoying.” You laughed as you got excited again for competition. Tom grew tense as you mentioned it. You noticed that. How he didn’t talk much about competition anymore. It went from the only thing you two talked about to now nothing. You knew how excited he was, the both of you were but suddenly it was like that excitement was put in a box to rest.

“Yeah...she was.” He kinda laughed but then just washed harder at the dish.

“Everything okay? You’ve kinda stopped talking about competition.” You put down your plate and that's when he took a deep breath.

“It’s nothing, I promise.” He tells you, pressing his lips into a lying smile that you knew.

“Baby, you can tell me anything you know. I’m always here for—“ and with that, he cut you off and told you the words you hated to hear.

“I-I took you out of the competition,” Tom sighed, dropping the dish rag on the counter in defeat. He watches as your face goes from annoyed to shock. Anger builds behind the eyes he find peace in. “It was wrong me me to do so—“

“damn right it was wrong of you to do so!” You slam your hand on the counter. “W-why would you?”

“You were sick! You were so sick for so long and what was I going to let you do? just make yourself worse—“

“it was the stress! I told you it was the—“

The built up ignored tension between you both finally caused him to snap.

“Is your period being late stress too?” His words caused the room to be silent. You take a sharp breath as you stare at him with anger but not at him anymore, at the fear of your new life.

“I’m just late, it’s normal for a woman like me to be rhis stressed and late...” you trailed off and this time he had the red face.

“Bullshit. What happened at that doctors appointment.” He demanded. You didn’t say a word at first which only angered him more. “Damnit (y/n)—“

“I’m pregnant.” You finally cry out and he knew his thoughts could be true, he knew they had to be but the moment those words left your mouth his whole body froze. He went pale with fear and shock, his hand no longer gripping the counter out of anger but out of support in case he passes out. The tears that left your eyes were uncontrollable as you let out a sob, the first sob that snapped tom back into reality.

He didn’t think twice, his arms supportively wrap around you as he tells you sweet nothings to try and calm you and himself.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He mumbled into your hair. You swallowed hard as you pulled back, your face wet with tears and you sniffled. His thumbs come up to wipe away each tear and each trace of mascara.

“Because I wanted to be normal still! I wanted to compete, I wanted to surf! I can’t surf anymore tom, i'm going to be a mom and I won’t have time for surfing.” You sob more and he only pulls you back into his grasp.

“I’m so selfish and stupid to even think to compete but I just want to n-not—“ you can’t even spit it out anymore.

“Who said you can’t surf when you’re a mom?” He moved back to hold your face. You didn’t look at him, he wasn’t going to force you to either. This was your decisions right now, he just wanted to listen.

“When you’re a woman and a mother, everything is for your child. You will have time to surf because you’re a dad but no one wants a mom to do anything but take care of their kid and I’ll love this baby so much, I will, but don’t want to lose myself. I’m young, you’re young and you’re about to be the next big thing.” You punch his shoulder playfully trying to lighten things up. “I—i-W-we’ll—“ you start again and he shakes his head.

“Don’t even say it. Sweetheart, you’re having a baby, our baby. I will make sure you still surf, when it’s safe, Of course. I-I don’t even have the words right now, my heart is racing, feel it.” He placed your hand over his chest to feel his pounding heart. “You will be (y/n) Holland, the infamous surfer that beat Tom Holland twice last year and you will be the mother to our kid. Their badass mom.” He cracks a smile as his hand goes to your stomach.

A shared moment where he only touches the stomach as he learns about it. You look at him softly and he looks at you as if you were the entire world. As if he was a little kid at sea world for the first time, he looks at you with beauty and hope and a hint of thankfulness

“For a minute,” you speak again. “I thought you were completely calm about this.” You chuckle and he shakes his head.

“No, I actually think I’m going to throw up.” He held his breath for a moment before he moved to the trash can and emptied his worried stomach.

This time it was you rubbing his back and wiping his mouth. Maybe you wanted to roll your eyes at the Irony but you just knew he loved you.

Holland. He used the last name Holland on you for the first time you’d ever heard it. He said it so confidently as if you two were already married. Holland. You can get use to that.

Day of competition

there was this sort of shock in everyone’s face as they watched you walk in shorts and a tee. Joining the crowds of people instead of getting ready for the waves of water.

This year was no wetsuit with your board, slathering sunscreen on your face as you got ready but rather taking a seat in that sand just like everyone else. Carrying a baby no one knew about except you and Tom and a few friends and family.

Your body was warm with nerves, hundreds of cameras here usually captured the sea, interviewing the surfers afterwards. Although it was not like Hollywood, there was no TMZ or dailymail, but there was enough interest and news casters to tilt their heads for why they infamous (y/n) (y/l/n)—soon to be (y/n) Holland—took a seat with the friends and family. Cheering on from the sand.

“Hey.” Z snaps you out of your constant looking around, how your eyes never focused on one thing.

“Ease up a bit, babes, no one even knows.” She knew, you knew you had to explain to her when you were sitting out. Just as Tom explained to his brothers and the two of you both would explain to his mother after competition. For he knew the women would get so excited she would explode

“Right.” Was all you said as you started clapping with the rest of the crowd when the games begun. It would be a moment for them to get to tom, they always let the younger ones go first, you and Tom were in that fine middle where you had to wait just for the middle of the games.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?” Z asked with a hint of excitement to her voice. She kept it quite enough to where it was just you.

“I’m okay with either.” You didn’t ever care much for gender, although a girl would be nice to balance out the male testosterone you’re always around. “A girl would be nice though.” You smile at Z.

She gives a smile back, leans back on the towel as she soaks up the sun. “And Tom?” She asked and you shrugged.

He had talked about almost everything but a boy or girl, when you asked if he cared he told you,

“as long as they have two arms, two legs, a torso, a head, comes out of me with no trouble, then it’s a perfect surfing buddy.” You quote him exactly, smiling at his words from a few nights ago.

When he found out, his hands never left your stomach, even though you reminded him the baby was only the size of a grape. That well...it was just a bunch of cells forming up in the moment that couldn’t exactly kick for it had legs the size of your pinky nail. He still waited, he waited and waited, you didn’t even know what he was waiting for at one point for he would pause between his words at the baby or when he asked you a question he looked down at your stomach as if they would reply for you or before you.

“I know hes nervous as hell, but he’s so excited, I know it. The other day Harrison told me he cried when he told him. Tom, crying.” Z laughed a bit and you did too.

“If you think I’m the emotional one...turn on coco or inside out and see what happens to that man.” You chuckled as you turned your head back to the waters to watch tom with a smile on his face blow a kiss in your direction before getting on his board. Paddling out to the sea you watch him get ready to take the first wave, the crowd goes wild and your hand rests over your stomach.

This time, next year, you would sit on these sands with a smaller version of the two of you.

August.

Being early in your pregnancy but far enough to show was not as glamorous as people made it be.

Your shorts no longer fit, shirts started to get loose at the top and tight at the bottom and for the love of heaven you slept so much. Tom liked the idea of endless naps, somedays you wondered if he was the pregnant one instead of you. As he slouched around, ate just as many snacks as you and started to even complain about some of the same things you did.

Maybe it was the impact your moods had on him or the fact he stopped drinking caffeine since you no longer could have it and he didn’t know what his life was before morning coffee was with you. He was almost the same as you were durning the pregnancy.

“What are you doing?” Putting on a bikini for the first time since you told Tom. For the first time in about a month. You didn’t like the fit much anymore, the bloation you constantly had and the extra weight you now carried in your thighs, arms and breasts made you insecure. The top that used to fit perfect now had you grunting to tie. But you had to wear what you had to wear to get you in the water.

“I’m coming with you to the beach.” You say innocently and he shakes his head.

“You’re not picking up a board, you know that. Besides, the waters have been rough lately, there’s that storm coming in and one hard wave can hit you and I don’t want that to happen.” He exaggerates and you look at him with a dead stare.

“Tom, I haven’t touched the water in over a month, I’m pretty sure my skin cells are changing because of it.” You exaggerate as well and he comes up to you.

“Well, I’m not letting you in the water. It’s too dangerous.” He was serious, at first you thought he was just being dramatic, he was still going to let you swim but he was 100% serious.

“Tom, you’re kidding.” You scoff a bit and he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry darling, I know a lot is happening—“ he starts and you move back.

“The doctor said I am healthy enough to be physically active and I—“ before you could finish he cut you off.

“The doctor said you could do some squats, leg workouts, lift a 5lb weight, that was the type of exercise he said. The waters are too dangerous, please don’t argue with me.” He pleads but your emotions get the best of you. Anger starting to build and your body heating up.

Tom had learnt one thing so far; don’t upset the pregnant women and that’s exactly what he did.

“You’re telling me to not argue with you when you are the one holding me hostage in my own home? God, Tom, I have a life still too! A month ago you said you understood what it was going to take and now you’re treating me the way I specifically asked not to! I’m getting in the water, I haven’t been in the water for months it feels like and that’s all I know—“ your rant continues but Tom isn’t looking at you anymore. He’s looking at your side view in the mirror.

Your bump is showing, the bump he swore he could kinda feel but not see was now showing. Almost like it grew overnight.

“Fuck, Tom! Look at me while I’m—“ you start to yell again but he steps closer.

“Look.” He stares at the mirror and comes closer to your bump.

“Oh my…” you see exactly what he’s seeing. The small curve outwards that is your swollen stomach. Your bump.

“May I?” He asked and your mood went from angry to overfilled with happiness. Your eyes starting to tear ss you nodded.

“Tom, it’s your child too, you can touch.” You told him and he did. Your hand even went to your stomach as you rubbed over the bump that was barely forming.

“It’s like it happened overnight.” He laughed a bit and you did too.

“I swear it wasn’t there last night when I got out of the shower. I swear.” You let a few tears fall and he peppers soft kisses.

“I’m sorry.” He gently stroked at the stomach and you sniffled.

“I’m sorry too. I know you just want what’s best for us but I’m just…” you sniffle some more not being able to finish.

“I know baby, I know.” He gets up and wraps his arms around your back. Pulling you in for a hug for you to cry on his chest. So emotional over everything but he was right there. Right there with you.

“We can call the doctor about you surfing, we can call him right now if you want. But I just can’t lose you.” He gives a smile and you nod as your lips meet with his.

“C-can you order the chicken from the place I like?” You finally regain your composure and he nods.

“Of course, anything else?” He looks down at the stomach and you shake your head.

“No, not for now.” You smile down at the small bump forming. “Wait!” You stop him as he’s leaving to grab the phone. He turns to face a guilty looking you, “and mozzarella sticks.” You rub your stomach and he nods. With a faint smile he goes,

“always.” As that was your constant craving. Leaving you in the room for a moment and coming back to see you dressed back ins sweats and a tee shirt, Tom smiled and gladly cuddled up next to you, rubbing and talking to the bump about the future. Maybe you couldn’t surf, but you had Tom right by your side.

December.

Christmas cookies and sweetly salted popcorn occupied your side as you spent a snowy Christmas in London. No beach, no blazing sun even during the day, Tom took you home where you were now five months pregnant.

Heavily showing and to even think you wanted to go surfing months ago was laughable. You hated getting up to shower somedays for it was too much work.

“Darling, Angel, my pretty girl,” Tom sat next to you nervous with his next words. “I know you’re pregnant but there are only so many Christmas cookies.” He told you and you smacked his shoulder.

“Thomas, she’s pregnant! She’s allowed as many cookies as she wants besides there are more in the oven but pregnant women gets first pick as she is carrying my grandchild.” His mom immediately came to your defense. Taking so much good care of you while you were here, Tom doesn’t even think he got this much affection as a sick child.

“I wasn’t saying it’s a bad thing for her to eat cookies, I just want one!” Tom defended himself and you handed him a cookie and you felt your baby kick.

“See? They don't even want you stealing our cookies. I’m eating for two, I’m eating for your baby. You eat a lot by the way! Remember that summer you went through the whole fridge in a week? Yeah, now I’m eating for a tiny version of that! And myself! It’s hard out here for me and what did you do huh? Take two minutes!” You snatched the cookie back from him and rubbed your stomach. His brothers stifled a laugh and Tom grew red in embarrassment.

“I last longer than two minutes.” He says is a mumble.

Rolling your eyes, You rested your head on Toms shoulder and moved his hand over to the kicking stomach. “She says thank you.” You smile as you take a bite from the cookie.

“A she?” His mom perks up and the rest of the family does.

It was a mistake, you and Tom had a battle of the sexes. It seemed as if you didn’t want to know the gender right before your winter holiday. Or really the gender at all. The gender was available for you guys now but you both didn’t see it as a big deal. The baby’s room would be filled with ocean themed toys and a gentle blue wall Anyways. And besides, whatever they decide to be they would make the perfect surfing buddy. Although it was still fun to think of, You thought a girl and Tom swore a boy.

“No, mum, we still don’t know I promise. (Y/n) is just messing around.” He swore and the family relaxed again.

“He’s right, I am just joking. Tom is probably right with his assumption, thinking it may be a boy. With all this moving and eating, just like Tom.” You poke his cheek and Tom again flusters in embarrassment.

“Hey, I have a fast metabolism.” He told you and you kissed his temple.

“I know baby, I’m just teasing you. My man knows how to stay fit and sexy.” You playfully rub his stomach and suddenly the stifled laughs from the boys turn into disgusted noises.

There was everything to indicate a boy, well, mostly just a gut feeling. Tom's mother described her pregnancy with Tom to you and it was nearly the same. A baby boy, you could see that. You would need another fridge and a lot more paper towels assuming the babe will be like Tom and eat yet spill everything. You liked the idea of a boy. Plus, Tom had been playing a stupid game where he asked the baby questions making it kick for an answer. When Tom asked if it was a boy or girl, it kicked the moment he said boy.

The ding of the kitchen timer went off, more cookies fresh out of the oven and Tom was quick to jump up.

“Let me help m’lady up.” He grabs your hands and you grunt as you stand up. You walk with Tom at your side and once you are alone eating more cookies in the kitchen your hand rubs over your stomach as you feel the baby kick in excitement.

“Off the topic of gender, I think they miss the ocean. They kick so much just when I sit in the bath like they are having fun in the water.” You mention water and you feel a kick. They couldn’t understand, but they could hear and a smile rose to yours and Tom's face.

“Then they’re just like their mama.” He leans in and kisses your cheek.

“Who knows, maybe once we get back I’ll get in the—“ before you can finish your sentence about surfing, a sharp kick to your bladder causes you to hunch over with a pained face. Tom worried as he held you panicked but you got back up with a deep breath.

“Nevermind, little one didn’t like that idea.” You hold onto his arms tightly.

“Everything okay? Just a bladder kick?” He panicked and you just nodded.

“Yup.” Your face scrunches up again. “Just the bladder.” You suddenly have the urge to pee. “Now shoo, I’ve got to pee.” You tell him and he looks at you in confusion.

“You just peed like—“ you give him a look making him think about how he’s finishing his sentence. “Right, my darling.” He moved out of your way to let you go. Snatching one more cookie from the tray, he smiled as he thought how next year at this exact time, you would be holding a little baby.

April.

One week. You were one week late and as any normal pregnant woman would be resting in bed and rubbing over her swollen belly and anticipating the child’s arrival. Although that was not what you were doing.

Against Tom's wishes, you went back to work to see the kids start up their surfing lessons. Although there would be no swimming for you, no waves for you just yet, seeing the kids happy to be there was something that sparked joy to your heart always. Helped ease your nerves and turn them into excitement.

“Mrs. (Y/l/n)-Holland, look what I learnt how to do!” One of the kids calls out. You had a smile for not only did they call you by both yours and Tom's name, but that they had always been excited to show you new things.

“That was amazing Ryder!” You clapped at the boy who did a handstand. He had a big smile with teeth missing. Your hand went over your stomach again, an aching pain that was noting but a false labor.

The doctor said it was fine. Women always experienced this right before birth and just take a deep breath but don’t waste your time rushing to the hospital just for them to send you home.

It was normal to be late and that you had a stressful year so it was okay. The doctor mentioned that you still felt contractions which meant you were close. But when it was Tom, every slight indicator of pain you felt meant a freak out where he rushed around the house to get the baby bag and try and get you in the car when in reality, you just had to pee.

“T-That’s really cool.” You wince and the boys face goes from excitement to worry. Within the luck, Tom comes jogging from the parking lot with lunch for the two of you. Hoping to get in the water with the kids and keep an eye on you.

“Hey Angel.” He kissed your cheek but noticed your pain. “Everything okay?” He panicked and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, Ryder here was just showing me how he can do a handstand now—“ you can’t even finish as the pain was strong.

“(Y/n)?” Tom needed to be calm, your face scrunched up as you held your swollen stomach. “Darling, Angel, pretty girl, look at me.” He used all the pet names you liked and you looked up at him with worry in your eyes. “I think it’s time for us to meet the little one.” He nods with a trying smile and you feel an even sharper pain.

“Mmh, I can’t do this.” You breath heavily as you hold onto the stomach. “Yes you can, if you can surf a wave that is 12 feet with no wipeout then you can birth our baby.” He promised and also got the little boy who was so excited to show you his new moves a moment ago to run and get another adult.

“Tom, I-I can’t.” You felt yourself tearing up and he shakes his head. Your heart pounding and mind swarming with worried.

“You can, you will. You are the strongest women I—“ before he can start his motivational speech you cry out in pain.

“Get me in the goddamn car!” You cry and he nods and gets you up before anything worse. He rushes to the hospital as quick as he can, holding your hand and trying to not crash as you hold your stomach and scream.

When he gets to the hospital, he’s still in a wetsuit. They take immediate action into getting you into a room where you are laying with your legs up waiting for a doctor. Holding Tom's hand as you cry.

“Uh sir?” The doctor walks in and looks at the man in the wetsuit. “We’re going to have to ask you to put on scrubs...helps prevent any ourside clothing germs getting on the baby...are you wearing anything under that?” She asked and he immediately started unzipping.

“Jesus tom, not here, she wants you to get changed in the bathroom.” You shake your head as you run your hands over your face. In pain but want to laugh at your worried boyfriend for how he was acting in the moment.

“Right! Right!” He quickly changes from the wetsuit into the scrubs. The doctors look at him funny but let it go as you’re clearly in pain and needing the baby to be out.

“You got this love, you’re doing so good—“ he starts again but you don’t even want to hear it.

“was this really worth two minutes! I’m getting my fucking tubes tied!” You scream at him and he flushes a deep shade of red as one of the nurses giggles.

After one more big push you heard the sound of a cry filled the room. For just a second, all the pain you felt went away as you see the body of your baby, baby boy. You both were right, a beautiful little boy.

“A boy.” Tom breathes out in awe.

“Dad you wanna come cut the cord?” He looked at you for approval and you nodded. He cut the cord with shaky hands, couldn’t focus for the life of him as he just stared at the boy. You only got to hold him for a second before he’s taken off to a bath. Tom following them before they bring him back in a bundle of blankets.

“Oh my…” you hold the beautiful boy. His little lips open just a bit to make a sound while his eyes flutter to adjust to the light. “Look at him tom.” You feel yourself cry and Tom does too.

“Wow, look at you.” He touched the boy's cheek who immediately tried to take the finger into his mouth. “You did that.” He tells you as the two of you admire it.

“We did that.” You tell him and he smiles a bit. “Although yeah, it was mostly me.” The boy stares hard at Tom, Tom who was still in just swim trunks and scrubs.

“Hey, I ate a lot with you during this pregnancy. Even had my own morning sickness.” He teased and you only laughed.

The room going silent for a moment. Hearing the little cooes of your boy as you held him. Toms finger tracing over his cheek when you finally spoke, “Caspian.”

Tom had mentioned how he liked the name for a boy, more than once. It had connections to the water and to Europe so the child would have a bit of both. You had to admit to yourself that you liked it but just wanted to stick with a more casual name. But looking at how he looked at you the moment you said that name, you knew it was the one.

“Caspian?” He repeated and you nodded.

“Caspian Holland.” You told.

He smiled as he kissed your forehead. “Holland? Just that?” He asked as well and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah just like that.” You smiled. A perfect moment in the perfect situation was interrupted by a small nurse who held a tee shirt.

“Uh sir?” The nurse looked at the two of you and both of your attentions were caught. “So unfortunately we have to ask you to wear a shirt, we got one from the lost and found for you hoping that it would fit.” The shirt read “I’m not as fun as mom” and Tom's face dropped. A proud smirk rises to your face as you look at Tom who’s flared his nostrils just a bit to show his embarrassment.

“Yeah Tom, put on the shirt.” You encouraged and he looked at you. His eyes telling you that you’re going to regret that but you can’t wait 15 years into the future to tell your son.

Sighing as he took the shirt from the poor nurse and sat back down on the chair in a huff.

“You’re never letting me live this one down are you?” Shaking your head you look back down at the boy,

“no, I don’t think we will.” You brought your dry cracked lips down to the boys forehead, you had no water within the past hour and screaming with crying seemed to make you as dead as possible. “Caspian. Caspian Holland.” He whispers again. “Thank you.” He looked at you and you furrowed your brows.

“For everything.” After months of no surfing, months of pain and aches, instead of saying anything back you looked at him and said

“sushi.” Was all you said and he furrowed his brows.

“W-what?” He questioned.

“I need sushi, please.” You sigh and he smiled. Months of being unable to eat any fish that was all you wanted in the moment.

“One California roll coming up.” He kissed your cheek and then the boy's cheek. Calling in the nurse, sending for a California roll and tuna.

Caspian was sleeping soundly in Tom's arms while you ate and rested. Everything was worth it, from the moment he stepped on a plane one summer to Hawaii he knew it was worth it for he found a family in the end.

June.

Once again the sand was squishing under your toes. Feeling each and every grain as you held your baby boy tightly bundled in blankets against your chest as you walked out to the beach. He was freshly bathed, you and Tom took turns. You were so eager the moment you were cleared to get back in the water after birth that the day the doctor cleared you for physical activity, you did it.

But tonight wasn’t you getting in the water, it was you greeting Tom and telling him to come back inside.

“Dinner is done.” You call out to him as he jogs back to the two of you. The baby boy cooing as he sees the ocean and his fathers dripping wet figure coming towards them.

“Hey, look who’s out.” He immediately leans in and kisses all over the pretty baby boy's face. “My sweet boy is so fresh and clean.”

You and Tom had argued about who he had looked more like,You or Tom. he had Tom's nose for sure and his big brown eyes that you knew were going to be trouble. If you had a hard time saying no to Tom when he batted his lashes and gave a glossy look, it was going to be impossible to say no to your beautiful boy.

“He just took a bath. But it wasn’t the ocean.” You smiled and Tom pressed a kiss to your face too.

“Mmh, did you?” He looks at the boy who was yawning in his mother’s arms. “Want to swim a bit?” He asked and you shook your head.

After birth, Tom did a lot of the work. He loved it too. He claimed you needed rest, in which you did, but you would often find him just sitting in the nursery staring at the baby boy. Telling him stories to sleep and kissing his face. He would let you surf, bathe, sleep, all while he took care of your beloved boy.

“No, I’m so tired I think if I use my legs any longer they will snap.” You give a pout and Tom immediately kisses it away.

Tom started to gather his stuff, the beach towel and the bag he normally carried and the moment he started to pack up your baby boy let out a wail.

Within the two months of his birth, you were able to identify each cry. When he was hungry it was more of a gurgle, when he was sleepy it was more strained and forced, when he craved touch it was a whimper sounding cry and then there was this. He was simply upset something did not go his way. May you or Tom stepped away for a moment, the bottle gone too early, but now it was his father packing up his stuff that makes him scream a cry that makes heads turn.

“What’s the matter bubs?” Tom pouts as he sets the stuff down and comes over to him.

Once the stuff is set down the cries settle just a bit, settle enough until tom takes him out of your arms and presses him up against his body.

Still wet from the surf, you both think the baby liked it. While Tom occupied little Caspian, you picked up the towels and his bag for him and once again the boy let out a wail cry which made you and Tom furrow your brows.

“I-I don’t know what it is. I-I changed him and I bathed him and he was perfectly fine and—“ you start to panic and as you panic you drop the stuff which calms his cries. Tom immediately took notice and grew a smile that made his heart flutter in his chest.

“(Y/n),” he stops you and you look up at him with a worried look as if you’ve done something wrong. “He wants to stay. He wants to stay on the beach.” Tom says in a calm voice and the boy was now only cooing in Tom's arms. He bounced gently but mostly cooed as his daddy smiled at him.

“H-He knows we’re leaving the beach.” You sigh and come over to the boys. Petting your sons head as he relaxes in his fathers arms.

“Like I’ve always said, just like his mama.” Tom smiled up at you and you caught his lips for a kiss. “Well…” you rub your hands on your thigh, wiping off the sand you got stuck all over your hands. “Since Caspian always gets his way, I better bring dinner out here.” You smile as you poke at the sweet boys face and Tom moves and has a serious face.

“(Y/n), no, you can’t just whip out your boob in front of—OW! I’m kidding!” You smacked his arm for the stupid comment he made that at first had you worried.

“I hate you. I’m bringing out the dinner.” You start to walk off and he smiles.

“You love us!” He shouts back.

“Just Caspian! You? Not much you. remember...you’re not as fun as mom!” You call out to him, sending him a wink and he wants to say something back but he holds his tounge.

Looking down at the baby boy he says, “when I teach you how to surf I need you to beat mums ass a few times while you’re out there. Just for her little comments.” Tom spoke to the boy and he cooes. “Atta boy.” With that he plots down on the sand towel.

Setting caspian down on the towel for just a moment so he can strip from his wetsuit and be closer to him. You come back out balancing the plates of food for you and Tom as you seat next to them and eat. Leaning your head on Toms shoulder and kissing at it.

You never knew that one competition, one amateur British boy and one shared basket of fish and chips could lead you to the best moments of your life. Could lead you to the best family you’ve ever had.

Please leave feedback! It helps me grow as a writer and lets me know what more you want to see!

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merginyourface · 2 years ago

Note

So if mountain tastes like strawberry/floral ‘essence’, what does everyone else taste like?

Oh no. Having um-- I mean like knowing what it tastes like its very hard to fantasize about-- Contrary to what A Fruity Surprise might make you feel about me, hate that shit.

However, let's assume demon nut is like the vape flavor in the sense that it is "like a la Croix". You know it's-- it's still definitely cum, but with subtle hints of flavor. Ur not gonna like any of these answers because they're NOT going to make sense HAHA.

Aether's gotta be like, you know what Malibu tastes like? Tropical. Warm. Don't ask me why, I couldn't tell you.

Swiss is citrus. Gotta be. Tangy. Energizing. Please this is so awful.

Mountain is floral. Not fruity. To make that clear. Hibiscus tea, maybe.

Rain, my sweet boy. I dont want to say minty but minty. But NOT toothpaste minty. Or like spearmint minty. Too minty. Like sugar mint. Think lifesavers. Soft mints.

Dew. Um, I think I've used this in a fic before, but like mango, BUT with tajin. You feel? But if you hate that the obvious answer of a classic Red Hot works as well.

Bonus: (If you can manage to satisfy them long enough, face buried between her legs you would be rewarded with; Cirrus- pomegranate wine but then sweeter into pomegranate juice, Cumulus- root beer (floated, by her third), Sunshine- pineapple, sweet from first to last)

#request #There is no logic to this #Not based off an HC just the way my heart feels

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kinktae · 5 years ago

Text

bitchin’ || pt. 8 (M)

The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

pairing: fratboy!jungkook x reader

word count: 4k

genre: 1980s au, eventual smut, e2l

warnings: sir kink, student/teacher roleplay, oral (f), fingering, hand job, overstimulation, another bussy slap, peepee in veevee, jk kind of uses y/n like a pocket pussy LMFAOOO, angst

A/N: This fic was inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. Thank you to @junqkook for letting me use her likeness!

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

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PART EIGHT

“Mom told you I was coming down for Christmas, right?” You chirped into your phone’s earpiece, pressing it between your cheek and shoulder as you needed both hands to slip on your socks.

You had just finished brushing your teeth when your phone began to ring; you were surprised but delighted to hear your sister Rosa greet you from the other end. It felt like ages since you had spoken to either of your sisters. Sure, you gave your parents a ring every weekend, but your siblings had their own lives to worry about, you assumed.

“Not even! You know, Sammy broke up with his girlfriend last month, so he’s spending it with us for once.” Your elder sister replied.

You stretch your legs out in front of you, still stiff from sleep.

“All of us on one couch again, huh. That hasn’t happened since the final episode of M.A.S.H premiered on TV.”

“God, I’ve never seen Dad cry as much as he did that night.” Rosa reminisced, pulling a giggle from you as you replied the memory on your head. Your entire family with their noses pressed to the television’s screen, bidding farewell to a story and cast you had loved since you were seven.

“So when are you coming down then? Has winter break started for you guys yet?”

“Not yet,” you told her, “and I still have to ask Jungkook if he’d want to drive down together.”

“Jungkook?”

You froze, the fact that your family had no idea about your fake boyfriend completely slipping your mind.

“H-He’s a friend. We went to the same high school and… yeah…” You trailed off pathetically, feeling extremely vulnerable talking to Rosa about a boy.

The last she knew about your love life was the proposal… and your rather hasty return of the ring.

“A friend.” She repeated knowingly. “And will I be meeting said friend sometime this Christmas?”

Two knocks against the dorm door rang out suddenly, momentarily distracting you.

Jungkook? Meeting your family?

The idea should have made you snicker, easily dismissible, but sat in your small dorm room, on the very bed you and Jungkook often hung out on, you couldn’t help but picture yourself sat at your family’s dinner table, a Christmas dinner laid out in front of you.

You couldn’t deny how easy it was to picture him sitting beside you, chatting happily with everyone. Jungkook was important to you, in more ways than you cared to admit, and the idea of your family knowing that made your stomach flood with butterflies.

“Um… maybe, actually. Yeah.”

You hardly heard your sister’s noise of excitement as another series of knocks pulled you from your thoughts, these louder in volume.

Alright, alright.

You sighed, “Hey, I’m sorry, someone’s at the door. I’ve got to go, Rosa. Tell Lia I said hi?”

“You got it, dude.” Was your sister’s cheeky reply, a soft clang ringing out as you hurriedly placed the earpiece back onto the rotary phone.

You wondered who was at the door? It couldn’t be Yara as she had left for her first class not even ten minutes ago. Maybe it was your dorm floor’s RA?

Yanking the door open, you meet the eyes of an anxious-looking Jungkook, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Well, you’re up early.” You quirked up an eyebrow.

“Can I come in?” He ignored. You frowned.

“Of course.”

Jungkook stepped forward in an instant, shutting the door behind him.

“What’s wrong—”

His mouth found yours suddenly, hands gripping your waist as he pulled you into him. You let out a soft gasp at his sudden motions but returned the kiss quickly, mewing as he pushed you up against the nearest wall.

Your head felt like it was spinning, it had all happened so quickly; his hand holding a leg of yours up and around his waist so that he could slip a thigh between yours.

He always smelled great in the morning, like body wash and his shampoo. You intertwined your fingers into his freshly dried hair, his tongue already pushing past your lips.

You tasted like the mint of your favorite brand of toothpaste. He imagined if he had caught you any later then the mint would have been accompanied by the taste of coffee, knowing the way you rarely started a day without a cup.

God, he had missed the taste of you.

“Where’s Yara?” He broke the kiss lazily, redirecting his mouth onto the skin where your jaw met your neck.

You let out a soft whine, enjoying the way he was nipping and licking at your sensitive skin.

“S-She just left for class.”

“Perfect.”

Head cloudy, you watched as the handsome boy sunk to his knees, sitting on the back on his heels as he began to press kisses on your still bare thighs on show thanks to your pajama shorts. You were utterly enthralled by the sight of him, his eyes dark and ravenous as he nipped at your flesh.

You were jerked back into reality, however, when one of your legs were thrown over his shoulder, his intentions suddenly hitting you.

“W-Wait!” You panicked.

Jungkook’s eyes met yours curiously, pressing a kiss again your clothed center as he raised an eyebrow as if to ask you what was wrong.

You let out a squeal at the sight of Jungkook’s mouth against your most intimate parts. Bringing both hands to cover your face, you spoke through your fingers.

“You, um, don’t have to—“

“I want to.” He replied bluntly, pressing more kisses against you, your hips jerking into him consequently.

Your reaction told him everything you couldn’t. Erik had never gone down on you. So Jungkook was going fucking to relish every second in being the first man who would ever have you like this.

“I’ll be gentle, nerd. I promise. I’ll take care of you.”

He ran his thumb up and down against your clothed slit as he contemplated just exactly how he wanted you.

His decision was made for him, however, as a hand of yours came down timidly, pulling at the tied knot which kept your shorts up.

Jungkook was preening as he watched you peel the clothes off your body, a shy look on your face. He was rock hard in his sweats, too eager at the prospect of eating you out to wait for you to take off your underwear, his tongue running flat against the wet patch of your panties.

“Fucking beautiful.” He cursed as your breath spiked, fingers coming back down to finger his hair.

You felt like you were losing your god damn mind. The sight alone of Jungkook running his tongue against you was enough to bring you to climax, but it was his tongue’s discovery of your clit that finally had you moaning out. He ran the hot muscle around it, the fabric of your cotton underwear rubbing against it with just enough pressure to have you bring your hips into him.

You had this dozed off look on your face, he noticed, your jaw slightly ajar as your brows furrowed with every little movement his mouth made.

Cute.

You let out a cry, heading tilting back into the wall as two of his fingers pushed past your damp underwear up into you, not bothering to tease your sopping entrance.

“That feel good, little girl?“

"Y-Yes, sir.”

He could see the way your little fists clenched at your sides, craving purchase but unsure of what to grip onto as the wall offer no grip. If his mouth wasn’t so preoccupied, he would have pleaded for you to dig them into his hair, tugging at his scalp as you lost yourself on the feeling of his mouth.

He flattened his tongue over your clothed slit, reeling at how wet you were for him, tasting you through the cotton; the little noises you were making only edged his actions further.

“You’re so wet.” Jungkook groaned.

An involuntary jerk of your hips was his cue to curl his fingers into deeper than he had been previously, pulling his mouth away from you to press a kiss onto your thigh. He watched with a smug grin as you unraveled in front of him, his fingers hitting a spot that had your toes curling.

”Fuck.“

The word slipped from you, tangled with broken whines as you finally climaxed.

You hadn’t even managed a minute to yourself when Jungkook’s mouth found yours again, guided by the desperate need to feel you again.

Somehow you found yourself back in your room, Jungkook hovering above you as he kissed you slowly and deeply, hips rocking into yours mercilessly. The fabric of your panties tugged against your most intimate parts, and Jungkook swallowed your whimpers greedily.

It didn’t take long for his slim digits wrap around the sides of your panties, tugging down the ruined garment, sitting back on his heels to get a proper look at your exposed glistening cunt.

"Ah, fuck me already.” Your impatience caught up with you, eyebrows furrowing. You had managed to lose all articles of clothes, yet there was Jungkook, fully dressed, not an inch of his skin exposed.

A cry let you as his hand came down onto your already swollen clit, tucking a lip between your teeth to suppress back the moan that threatened to come out.

“What an indecent student I have.” He scoffed, despite the way he rubbed at your clit gently. "Maybe if you asked politely, you’d get what you want from me.“

You mewed, "Mm, I-I’m sorry, sir, please, need you inside of me. I can’t wait any longer.”

Jungkook abandoned your clit suddenly, tapping a finger against his chin as if pretending to contemplate your plea. You whimpered as he brought that same finger up to his mouth, wrapping his tongue around it decidedly.

“Hmm, I think I’ll take my time with you, actually.” He cooed once his fingers were well wet, pressing them back into you.

Your pussy welcomed his fingers greedily, velvety walls molding to the slender digits as they fucked into you, making a mess of you.

Frustration was pushed aside for a moment, eyes fluttering closed as you drowned yourself in the pleasure your pretend lover was giving you.

“Beautiful. So fucking gorgeous.” The dark-haired boy breathed, mostly to himself.

A surprised noise fell from him as one of your hands snuck it’s away over to his crotch, pulling down his sweats and wrapping itself around his hard cock.

“I want to make… you feel good, too.” You admitted through a hiccup, and if it weren’t for the feeling of your hand pumping his shaft, Jungkook would have leaned over and pressed a kiss to your nose.

He whined through his nose, jaw locked as he continued fingering you.

Pants filled the room, and you weren’t sure if you were groaning at the feeling of Jungkook’s hands on you or the noises he let out as you ran your thumb over the leaking red tip of his head. Probably a mixture of both.

He really was so irritating, even his sex noises were attractive.

Suddenly, his hand wrapped around yours, pulling it off his fat cock with a hiss. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your hands, breathing uneven.

“That’s enough, baby. You did so well for me.” He praised, earning a shy smile from you.

The smile was short-lived, however, as his insatiable mouth found your clit again, lapping at it as he sucked the bud into his mouth. A sob tumbled out, your thighs wrapping around his head as you were blinded by the stimulation.

You were so close, and you didn’t want to cum without having his cock inside you. The idea alone made you want to cry.

A desperate ramble of pleas for him to take you came rushing out of you, hand tugging at his hair to pull him away from you.

“Alright, alright.” Jungkook laughed, obliging you as he sat back up, hand leading his cock towards your dripping entrance. “God, you’re so fucking cute.”

Then something miraculous happened.

As his cock sunk into you, accompanied by the light circling of your clit, something inside you snapped, your orgasm hitting you hard and unexpectedly. Jungkook watched in awe as your back arched, your entire body shaking as you slowly came down.

“Baby, did you come?” He breathed incredulously once your eyes finally found him again.

“Yeah…” You whined, cheeks warm and chest rising sharply.

“Do you…” he swallowed, gripping the part of his cock that had yet to make its way inside you, “do you think you can come again for me?”

One of his hands was resting on your thigh, his palm burning against your skin. You flashed him a guilty look before shaking your head no.

Your body and head felt heavy and tired, and as much as you’d like to think you could spend forever intertwined with Jungkook, you had minimal experience with multiple orgasms.

Jungkook pressed a kiss to your mouth before nodding, moving to pull out of you, “That’s okay. I understand.”

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?”

“…You don’t have to stop.” You muttered shyly.

“Hm? But I thought you—”

“It doesn’t matter, you can still… You can keep going. I don’t care if I don’t come.” You insisted. “You can use me until you get off. I don’t mind if it’s you.”

If it’s you.

Jungkook felt his ears grow red; you wanted him to use you to get himself off? And just like that, that familiar feeling rising in his chest. The feeling that everything was more than it was– that you were his, and he was yours.

You placed a hand onto of his, squeezing it. He blinked, thoughts vanishing the moment he saw your suggestive eyes.

A wolfish smirk crept onto his face.

“On your tummy, baby.”

A soft chirp fell from you, muffled slightly by the pillow your face was resting on as he slid into you from behind, this time bottoming out all the way like he wanted.

His grip on your hips tightened, a drawn-out groan sounding out.

“So tight for me.”

You held back your groans as he built up his rhythm, his cock hitting deep within you. Jungkook’s mouth was pressing kisses against your shoulder, his sharp breaths and soft groans flooding into your ears.

"You’re in so deep, fuck.” You gasped, burying your face into the pillow at a particularly hard thrust.

God, you were grateful that Yara wasn’t home, as there was no way she wouldn’t be able to hear how loud the two of you were being.

Sweat glistened where ever your bodies touched, leaving you feeling hot and overwhelmed, pussy on fire from waves of overstimulation.

Suddenly, Jungkook let out a low grunt, slowing down his thrusts, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, where do you want me to cum?”

With sluggish effort, you prompted yourself back up on your elbows, looking over your shoulder at him.

“Inside me.” You begged without hesitation. He let out a noise of regard, bitting down on the spot of your neck that he knew you were particularly fond of.

“Yeah? Want me to stuff you with it? Fill you up all nice?”

He couldn’t help himself. His hand found its way underneath you, fingertips brushing your clit lightly and in quick motions.

A broken wail accompanied your nod, head falling forward as your mind went blank beyond return.

“Hmph, y-yes, fuck, please!”

“Anything for my baby. Anything she wants. My pretty girl.” He cooed against your skin, panting and hips stilling.

You met your third and final climax alongside Jungkook, insides painted with layers of his hot cum. Jungkook worked himself through his orgasm, softly thrusting into your spazzing walls until he was milked entirely dry.

Pulling out of you, he flopped down beside you, hand coming up to run through his sweat-dampened hair. You rolled over with a huff, vision still spotty.

“How are you feeling?” Your meathead inquired.

“Radical. And you?”

“Bitchin’.” He grinned up at the ceiling.

He turned to face you suddenly, placing a hand on your cheek. For a second, you thought he was going to say something, but as he laid his head back down onto the pillow, you realized it was more a gesture of affection than a request for attention, his thumb rubbing against your cheekbone.

You ran your fingertips against his bicep, enjoying the way every trail of your touch left goosebumps against his skin.

The room was comfortably quiet, except for the ticking of that clock of yours– the one Jungkook told you time and time again that he hated.

“What are you doing for Christmas? Are you going home?” You asked suddenly, the question weighing on your mind for a while.

“Actually, my parents are out of town for Christmas.”

You felt disappointment crash over you, a small frown finding your lips.

“Oh. Bummer.”

Jungkook chuckled at your sour expression, leaning over suddenly to press a kiss against your pouting mouth.

“Nah, it’s okay. I still go down to visit friends and shit. I usually spend Christmas with one of them.” He reassured you, mouth finding your neck as he began to press kiss down it.

You let out a sigh, fingers gripping Jungkook’s shoulders.

Okay, it’s now or never. Spit it out already.

“Do you… What if you spend Christmas with me?” You finally managed to squeak out.

“You,” Jungkook pulled back from you, something indecipherable crossing his eyes, “want me to spend it with you?”

You turned away from his intense stare, heat creeping up your neck.

Part of you wondered if you should brush him off with a laugh, telling himself to check his ego before that big head of his exploded. That you only offered as an act of kindness.

“Yeah, I do.” Was your reply, however.

“Oh.”

His reply was immediate and disheartening. You brought your duvet up to cover your bare chest, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“My mom’s Christmas pecan pie is kind of legendary, you know. And she always makes way too much. We have leftovers that last us the rest of the week.” You rambled awkwardly.

“Y/N–”

But it was too late. The nervous word vomit had already set in.

“You don’t have to, of course! I mean, that’s probably weird, right? Like, meeting the family, woah, intense! That’s something couples do and we’re… Anyway, I just thought maybe since we’re pretty close we could–”

“I have to tell you something.” He interrupted, sounding serious.

It wasn’t until then that you noticed the way his chest was rising irregularly, breaths shallow and ragged. He looked… uneasy.

“Okay. Tell me.” You replied gently, look at him inquisitively.

“Kiri came over last night.”

Your stomach dropped, “Oh?”

“She wants to get back together.” Jungkook swallowed dryly, eyes wavering between yours as if to gauge your reaction.

“…Oh.”

You shook your head.

“I mean, wow! That’s… That’s great!” You smiled, something tearing apart inside you as the words left your lips.

“Y/N–”

“Seriously! This means it worked, right? This is exactly what you wanted to happen.” You enthused, turning your head so that he couldn’t see way your eyes had welled up.

Jungkook’s heart was pounding in his ears, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around you.

“Yeah… yeah, no, you’re right. We did it.” He replied monotonously.

You blinked back the tears, refusing to let yourself cry over a boy you weren’t even dating.

“Yeah. We did.”

Silence fell over the room, the air swarming with uncomfortable tension. God, you didn’t want this. You didn’t want this at all. Things were so good just a second ago. You would do anything to go back to when Jungkook was on top of you and telling you how beautiful you were.

Clearing your throat, you rolled back over to face him.

“So tell me, meathead. How’d it go? We oughta go and buy champagne or something.“

Jungkook offered you a smile, and maybe it was you looking too far into it, but it certainly felt insincere.

"She came over to my room last night. Said she wanted to talk.”

“And what did she say?”

“Uh… not a lot, actually.”

“Huh? What did you guys do then?”

There was something guilty in the way Jungkook looked at you– something that had you feeling uneasy.

“…You slept with her.” You blinked.

Jungkook sat up in the bed, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck anxiously.

“She was saying how she missed me and then suddenly she was kissing me and I… I don’t know I kind of just reacted–"

“Wait.” You sat up straight, expression hard. “Let me get this straight. You fucked her last night. And this morning… you fucked me.”

You felt sick. To think that just a few hours ago, Jungkook’s dick was inside someone else. The mouth that was kissing you and telling you how much you meant to him, was doing the same for Kiri not even a full day ago.

So, what… were you just Jungkook’s to fuck around with whenever he wanted?

“Are you mad?” He called out cautiously, a heavy feeling falling onto his chest.

“Why would I be mad?” You quipped back sharply, causing Jungkook to flinch. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“I just thought… I mean we’ve been fooling around a lot lately, so I didn’t know if—”

“If what? I had feelings for you?” You scoffed. “Please, as if I’d ever fall for you.”

And there it was— everything Jungkook already knew but had been so afraid to hear. Of course, you didn’t feel for him what he felt for you. How could he have expected anything different?

Fuck. What had he done?

Your mattress groaned as you slipped off the bed, beginning to hastily dress.

“You can go.” You continued, pulling your shirt over your head.

Jungkook’s heart sank, “What?”

“You got what you wanted from me, right? Mission accomplished.”

“Nerd, that’s not why—” His words were stopped by the impact of his shirt being thrown into his chest, your stare ice cold.

“Don’t fucking call—” You paused, attempting to calm yourself with a shaky breath. “I have class. Please just… go.”

Jungkook did nothing for a moment, staring at you with those guilty eyes that did nothing but hurt you further.

You were a smart girl. So how did you let someone like him make a complete fool out of you?

You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, but you refused to let him see how small you felt right now. So you stood there unwaveringly as you faced the boy you had so stupidly let into your heart.

Jungkook could hear the way you struggled to steady your breaths as he dressed; he had never hated himself more than he did right now. There was so much he should be saying, yet he couldn’t find the words. Even as he was fully dressed and met your eyes one final time, he still remained voiceless, despite the way his insides screamed to say something that could take back what he had done. Something that would fix what he had just broken.

“Now.” You stated, tone void of emotion.

It was a front, of course, just a means of hiding the way you felt like you were crumbling. Even when Jungkook slipped past you wordlessly, you still held steady. And it wasn’t until you heard the click of the front door closing that you finally let yourself break, eyes wet as your lips parted, a small sob slipping past them.

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outerbankswriting · 5 years ago

Text

Could it be? Chapter 9 (JJ x Reader)

JJ x Reader

CH.1 - CH.2 - CH.3 - CH.4 - CH.5 - CH.6 - CH.7 - CH.8

Description: She has a crush on JJ, but he has always seen her as another one of the “dudes”, or at least that’s what she thinks so she just doesn’t even try anymore, until things start to shift between the two of them. (A/N: I’M NOT GOOD AT DESCRIPTIONS BUT THESE IS JUST WHAT I WOULD LOVE TO HAPPEN IN OUTER BANKS WITH JJ)

Warnings: pure fluff I guess

CHAPTER 9

Your heartbeats were the only sound you could hear. They went faster and faster as every second went by. Your breathing was matching the pace of them. If you hadn’t had cried your heart out in the shower, tears would’ve been falling down your eyes by now.

“What?” Your voice came out as a whisper.

You turned around to face him, the moonlight coming from your window letting you see the way he was biting his bottom lip and closing his eyes.

“You asked why I cared so much about you dating Rafe.” He replied, his voice soft and low.

You were still trying to process what he’d said before he broke the silence again.

“I’m not expecting you to say anything,” he shook his head and smiled, “I already know the answer.”

“Answer?” Was all you managed to say.

“I just know nothing’s ever going to happen, you’ve made it clear plenty of times before.”

You raised your eyebrows at him as you positioned yourself to move closer to him. His eyes were still fixed on the ceiling. Having known JJ for a long time gave you the knowledge that he avoided eye contact whenever he felt vulnerable.

“JJ that’s n-“

“It’s okay Y/N, you don’t have to sugarcoat anything,” he turned to face you now, giving you a small smile, “I’m alright being in the friendzone.”

“What even are you saying?” You let out a giggle.

You watched as he just shrugged and turned back to face the ceiling. The light coming from the moon allowing you to see him blushing.

“Hey, look at me,” you softly cupped his cheeks making him turn his gaze at you, the look on his face slowing down the pace of your heartbeats.

You softly caressed the small cuts still healing near his eyes, one by one, wishing they could be healed with your touch. Your fingertips traced his jawline, feeling the facial hair wanting to grow but not willing to yet. You were too focused taking in every inch of his face to notice his eyes being mesmerised by your half parted lips, until your fingertips softly traced his bottom lip, making the corners of his mouth lift and his chest rise up as he took a deep breath.

Your eyes finally met his and a wave of warmth covered your body, your soul wanting nothing more than to let him know what he means to you. You slowly cup his cheeks again as he leans towards you until your noses are slightly brushing and for the first time in your life you could tell he was nervous, so you wasted no more time and leaned in closer, brushing your lips against his.

His lips were soft and warm, and you could taste the freshness of the toothpaste the two of you used. The kiss started out slow and soft, almost as if the two of you were scared the other would change their mind at any second.

He pulled back a little, staring at your eyes before you gave him a small smile which made him press his lips against yours harder this time, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer to his body, the kiss turning into a hungry one, just like the one of two friends who have been hiding their feelings for each other for months and this kiss was their way of letting everything out.

The two of you pulled away before sharing a couple of small pecks, not wanting to take your hands off each other.

“I can get used to this friendzone.” He grinned and you playfully smacked his shoulder.

You snuggled in closer to his side and let him wrap his arm around your waist as you rested your head against his chest. The slight rocking of his breathing making your eyes feel heavy.

“Can I ask you something?” You whispered.

“You’re not that bad of a kisser,” he replied and you shot a look at him before letting out a laugh, “I’m joking, shoot it.”

“Are you sure you love me?”

The smile on his face faded away and he turned to look at you, the deep crease forming between his eyebrows.

“What do you mean if I’m sure?” He sounded offended.

“I mean,” you sighed, “love is a pretty strong word and I never thought you would feel that way about me.”

You tried to not look at his face but his fingers tilted your chin up leaving you no choice but to stare at his eyes.

“I’ve never felt the way I feel about you with anyone else,” he bit his lips as if he were struggling to let the words out, “you know, there’s just something about you that has always made me feel closer to you and ever since we met and became friends I just can’t get you out of my head and this all sounds so cheesy and I think it’s better if I just shut up.”

“Well you’ve got a way of showing it.” You couldn’t help the smile coming out of your face.

“What’s that about?” He furrowed his brow.

“Telling me about the girls you sleep with, referring to me as a friend whenever you have the chance, constantly talking about how crazy it would be for us to do anything that’s not related to friendship oh and al-“

“Hey, hey, hey, let me stop you right there,” he covered your mouth with his free hand, ignoring your tongue licking it, “you’re the one who started with the ‘nothing’s ever gonna happen between us, it’s just crazy!’”

“In my defense, you’ve always treated me as one of the boys.” You added.

“Oh right I forget I’ve also made out with John B too.”

“I’m serious JJ!” You chuckled, “Plus this is the first time we’ve kissed.”

“Y/N, you don’t see me flirting with the boys and not even with Kie who’s a girl.”

“I thought it was a friendly flirting.” You muttered.

“Friendly flirting?” He let out a laugh, “What the fuck is that?”

“I don’t know okay?” You covered your face while laughing.

“On a serious note,” he gently started running his fingers through your hair, “I never pulled a move because you were with Rafe and you’re a Kook and I’m me.”

You immediately let go of his arms and sat on the bed facing him with a shocked look on your face.

“You’re you?” You crossed your arms making him roll his eyes at you.

“Y/N, I’m a Pogue, my life is nothing like yours. You have your whole future planned already while I don’t even know if I’ll have decent food for the next week.”

“JJ come on.” You sighed but he kept going.

“No Y/N, it’s the truth,” he stared at you seriously, “what in the world would ever make me think someone like you would want to be with someone like me? You know it’s different to be friends with a Pogue than to actually date them right?”

“JJ I-“

“And you have all this fancy goals and dreams you want to achieve and I just don’t see how I could ever help you with them since I’m always getting into fights and I don’t even have a functional family so I just sticked to having you as a friend and I kept sleeping around with random girls who meant nothing to me and trying my best to get inside my head the idea that you just wouldn’t want me because I’m not good enough and I can-“

“Shut up JJ, shut up!” You cut him off and threw yourself at him, tightly wrapping your arms around him, not wanting to let go.

He held you tighter and started to sob right there in your arms. You could feel him shaking, which made you cup his face and wipe away the few tears coming down his cheeks.

“I don’t ever want to hear you talking about yourself like that,” tears were falling down your eyes as well, “JJ you’re more than enough.”

Your lips trembled and you softly pressed them against his, tasting the salty tears that were still falling down both your faces. You felt his arms wrap around your waist and pull your body closer to him as he let out a few more tears.

The two of you laid down on the bed without ever letting go of each other. You were used to being the little spoon when cuddling with JJ, but this time it was his turn to be the little one, and as he fell asleep in your arms you thought about him. About how hard he’s had his life, how every action he does is a call for attention and how he just wants to feel alright.

That night you held him a little closer, promising yourself you’ll give him all the love he’s missed out his entire life.

The next morning you woke up with a peacefully asleep JJ laying next to you. He looked so calm and peaceful you didn’t want to wake him up. You smiled to yourself as you remembered the events of last night, it all seemed so unreal.

You silently got out of bed to do your morning routine and as you were washing your face you thought about Rafe and the little deal you’d made with him yesterday. You knew no matter how carefully you planned to explain it to JJ he would still lose his shit.

You made your way downstairs and made some scrambled eggs for the two of you. As you were finishing your coffee your phone started ringing with a call from your parents, almost making you choke on your drink.

“Hey.” You answered.

“Y/N dear,” your father said, “how’s everything going?”

“Everything’s great, I’m just having breakfast.”

“Tell her I talked to the neighbor and she agreed on making her some meals.” You heard your mother tell your father.

“Tell mom I know how to cook.” You giggled.

“We’ll be back in two days honey.” Your father assured you.

“Two days?” Your voice came out a little too loud so you cleared your throat, “I thought you still had four more days left.”

“We closed the deal earlier,” he chuckled, “we have some news to tell you.”

“Is it about the business deal with the Camerons?”

“Oh I see Rafe told you already.”

“Sarah did.” You replied.

“Right. Your mom is eager to start planning everything with Rose and I’m assuming you’re also planning your own stuff with Rafe and Sarah.”

“Yeah, Sarah and I will go get our dresses soon,” you stopped talking as soon as you saw JJ enter the kitchen.

“Morning Y/N,” he said loudly, making your eyes widen, “aw you made me breakfast? Is this a 5 star hotel?”

You shushed him and pointed at your phone, letting him know you were on a phone call. It took him a few seconds of you trying to let out the words “It’s my father” a couple of times until he understood and sat in silence.

“What was that?” Your father asked.

“Kie stayed over.” You said quickly.

“Oh alright, tell her she’s welcome at the party,” he went on, “her whole family is actually. Well honey, I have to hang up but before we end the call, your mother wants you to know that your dress has to match Rafe’s suit for the pictures and all that stuff I don’t really know much about.”

“What, why?” You groaned.

“Ask your mom honey. Alright I have to go now, see you soon.”

You let out a big sigh after hanging up with your father, catching JJ’s attention.

“So?” He said after taking the last bite of his scrambled eggs.

“They’re coming back in two days.”

JJ nodded and stared down at his plate, his mind immediately thinking about where to go once your parents come back. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it, giving him a small smile.

“Hey,” you said softly, “you don’t have to go back to your dad, we’ll manage a way.”

“It’s alright, I’ll see what I do.” Was all he said.

You ran a hand through your hair and calmed down your thoughts, you had a lot of thinking and planning to do but right now you wanted to make JJ feel alright.

“So I’m not that bad of a kisser huh?” You grinned at him, his cheeks getting red and his lips matching your smile.

“I’d give you an 8 out of 10.” He joked and you playfully pointed your middle finger at him.

“You’re an idiot.” You smiled.

“Hey that only means we have to practice some more to improve it.” He winked.

You rolled your eyes at him and leaned in to give him a small peck on the lips, but as you were pulling away he cupped your face and pulled you for a long, passionate kiss.

“I change my mind, I’ll give you an 11 out of 10.” He whispered against your lips before you pressed yours against them for another kiss.

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CHAPTER 10

A/N: don’t mind me I’m just so happy to finally be able to write fluff between JJ and the reader but you guys know me and my love for angst so you better appreciate this full fluff chapter bc honey you’ve got a big storm coming...

I also want to say that I REALLY WISH I COULD GET INSIDE THE OBX SHOW AND TELL JJ HOW GOOD ENOUGH HE IS AND MAKE HIM FEEL LOVED AND APPRECIATED OK BYE.

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taglist: @babygirlizz - @atabigail - @poguesrforlife - @behappyitsemmalie - @jane-dough - @yeeedolan - @dontjinx-it - @sofiaconlaz - @fangirlwithme - @outermaybank - @hueycat2004 - @nope-thanks - @weasleyswizarding-wheezes - @haleswale - @hungoverhellhound - @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch - @asapkyndall - @hailiemarieeee - @emmasjulixn - @spideyyeet - @rosenbug - @cassidyiscool - @harrysbbby - @thatshiscigar - @kiarascarreras - @uhuh-listenboy - @normatural - @goldenariana - @heyyimlaynna - @lukvv - @irontoadllamaclam - @allisjustok - @saturno007 - @pluckypete - @pennepasta82 - @howdyherron - @perfektionsmakel - @dylanpain - @tulzu - @voidsxnsets - @shadesofbarryallen - @rimbougrine - @dolanfivsosxox - @allisjustok - @stell-rosie - @spoopysidemen - @optimisticherolightpanda - @dolansbeanies - @arsejungle - @missenchanted27 - @ctrlyouthmendes - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @hazelgirl355 - @sehunniehaechannie - @sweetwaterprincess - @ues-swiftie - @deadsunflower01 - @ghostlywombatnickelpeanut - @moadvx - @peachy-ness - @supersouthy - @howdyherron - @retro-mayfield - @cyxbv - @ydoesthesunsetbaby - @bellageorge03 - @thelittletank - @emmalvei-blog - @eaturveggiesbabe - @katiepego - @books-crushed-my-soul - @iamaunicorn4704 - @mrmaybaby - @sloanology - @wildest-dream- - @maplelattes22 - @disaster-rose - @5am-cigarette - @ravenclawmarvel - @peterbrokenparker - @pickeringshawnn - @thatshiscigar - @lovelydina - @sspidermanss - @lollypop-lam - @drunkwallows - @a-wari - @ajxlawley - @briiiimiranda - @oceantostars - @jordangdelacruz - @brightnss - @classywaves - @ironbuckley - @cilorawr - @the-beauty-queenn - @mileven-reddie- @blueegansey - @livingforbarnes - @angelnoirr - @fashionlive15 - @harrysbbby - @eb15 - @lcil123 - @drunkwallows - @uhuh-listenboy - @caringparker - @tangledinsparkles - @wildflower-lrh - @lollypop-lam - @mxrvelistic - @jeffsbarbershop - @bananasundae13 - @llunarist - @nick-awwstin - @aftertaxte - @timotaychalabae - @we-are-all-lovely - @k-k0129 - @wwylmlive - @sunshinemadds - @hawkeyetrained - @cremextart - @sunflowerwhoever -

#outer banks #outer banks netflix #outer banks fanfiction #jj x reader #jj #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj x you #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #obx #obx netflix #obx fanfiction #obx imagine

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years ago

Text

Never Be Sorry, Not For This (part 2)

NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW

Ya boi is back and feeling extra spicy- SMUT AHOY

You woke up thinking someone had broken into your room, hands blindly swinging at the dark shape that loomed over you

“It’s me!” Gene hissed, cool hands grabbing your wrists and gently dodging your flying fists. “Kicked your canteen over on accident, I didn’t mean to wake you mon cher….”

Heart still in your throat, you have to blink up at him a few more times before his words seem to make sense to your sleep addled brain.

“What time is it?” you ask, but before you can take your arm back to check your watch Gene’s slid in between the salvaged bLankets you’d piled for the both of you and taking your watch off of your wrist and tossing it by the foot of the mattress.

“Late. Early. try to go back to sleep, I’m sorry I woke you—”

“Don’t be….missed you.” Turning to face him you press a quick , chaste kiss to his lips. “Glad you’re here.”

You’d known and loved each other for nearly three years now, and he still got flustered whenever you told him simple and straightforward things like that- I’m glad you’re here, you make me so happy. I love you more than I can say, you now that don’t you Eugene….?

“guess what?” he asks softly in the darkness, and you grin.

“Hm?” you grumble as you refocus, nuzzling your cold nose into the warmth of his neck and kissing the soft skin apologetically when he hisses at the temperature.

“It’s your birthday.”

Well, I wasn’t ….it was?

You roll onto your back, Gene’s warm body following yours as he gives you a small smile.

The mattress you were sharing was old and smelled musty but after weeks of sleeping sitting up in the backs of cars it was practically heaven.

Anytime you got to be alone with Eugene Roe was practically heaven.

The only time that seemed to happen lately was during the coveted designated rest time, but you were far from complaining.

Because, as amazing as sleeping with Gene is, nothing compares to sleeping beside Gene.

You’d never met someone so affectionate, and that affection did not lessen just because he had fallen asleep. He's always touching some part of you- an ankle hooked around yours, his sleep-slackened hand heavy on your thigh, steady breath raising chills across your chest as he burrows for you.

in Georgia, you’d lamented the overwhelming heat of his body on yours. Youd bitched and moaned that you were melting and he was just making it worse.

I’ve made you melt before, mon cher. I think you’re just too warm...

But here in Europe- with it’s frigid days and even colder nights, you’d become the touchy one. He didn’t seem to mind the change.

He brushes his nose against your temple as he kisses along your hairline, inhaling the smell of the shampoo Easy had been gifted upon their return from the frontlines the day before.

“Do you think I can get Luz to sing me ‘happy birthday’?” you tease, arching your back to stretch your sore muscles.

He seems to consider that for a moment. “Knowing George Luz, I'd say the bigger challenge will be getting him to stop singing to you.”

You nod in the pale light of the room, your warm chuckle turning into a sigh when he placed a sweet kiss on your lips. “You raise an excellent point, Doc. Knew you were more than just a pretty face…”

You feel him smile against your cheek, and when he pulls back enough to look at you he just looks so content that it takes your breath away.

You hold his face in your hands, unable to stop the amused smirk that crosses your face when he leans into your touch.

You both stay like that for a moment, enjoying e/o’s presence in comfortable silence until you see a thought form in his mind that suddenly has him eyeing you somewhat knowingly.

“Remember your last birthday?”

Your grin is gone, mouth popping open surprise at the sharp turn his mood had taken.

like you could forget anything about your last birthday.

Well, more accurately- anything about your birthday celebration with Gene.

Unwilling to let him see how instantaneously the mention of your night at the club had gotten you flustered, you pretend to think for a moment, bringing a hand up to tap at his chin.

“Hm, not sure? Remind me what we did?”

He kisses you with a roll of his eyes, mouth tasting of toothpaste and cigarettes.

I remember when I first kissed him. He tasted like whiskey-smoked sugar and i thought i was going to burst into flame.

“Red silk,” he murmurs. “Pecans? You, forgetting how to breathe and dance at the same time—?”

You scoff a laugh at that, bringing his mouth back to yours and shutting him up with another kiss.

He breaks the kiss with a soft curse, taking a deep, ragged breath when your hands find the hem of his shirt and push it up enough that you can touch his bare back. You gently scratch at him with your short nails, a greedy feeling of lust blossoming in your chest at the prospect of Gene being at your mercy.

Almost as if he could read your mind, he starts shaking his head as if he is trying to clear it.

With a bite at your bottom lip Gene rolls atop you sto he can rest between your splayed thighs, kissing you twice more before purposefully rutting against you and letting you feel the firm press of his cock.

“Yeah,” you pant, nodding against his cheek as you desperately try to catch your breath. “I think it’s starting to ring a bell….”

“Well, if you’ll allow me to remind you….”

You’re nodding before he’s finished his teasing offer, thighs coming up to rest against his waist. “Si-to-ple (please).”

like a gunshot signalling the beginning of a race, your plea opens the floodgates and Gene is everywhere.

His french has become too fast and interspersed with (what you assumed were) regional words and phrases too specific for her to understand, but just from the tone you know he’s telling you about the dance you’d shared.

It hadn’t been until the singer finished her set that the two of you had finally seemed to surface from whatever libidinous spell the night had put upon you, embarrassingly aroused and looking absolutely wrecked.

His hand had refused to part from the dip of your waist, wordlessly guiding the both of you towards the door and across the street to the motel you’d both individually gotten a room at.

the only time he’d stopped to speak was to ask you which way your room was, and you had decided to show rather than tell…

His fingers were stoking the slick fire between your legs, having long ago made it his mission to learn your body’s secrets until he knew it nearly as well as his own.

Of course he’d blushed when you’d made it clear that you wanted to know him just as completely, but after you’d made it obvious just how badly you wanted to please him.

“More,” you whimper, cutting off another hushed devotion he had started mouthing against her collarbone. “Please, m'amour?”

You knew how distracted it made him when you would pepper in a french phrase here and there, but but when you did it in bed? He’d forget himself, something in the way your lips curled around the foreign sounds adding a more desperate fuel to whatever fire he has burning in him for you at the moment.

This time was no different.

“tricheuse (cheater),” he adminishes lightly, heel of his hand grinding against your clit. “What do you want, mon cher, what can I give you?”

Fuck, why did he have to talk like that? Simple questions should not sound so much like dirty talk but dear god it really does.

“Tell me what you need,” he’d whispered that night, having helped free you from your dress and your slip gathered uselessly around your waist. “I’ll give you anything, i just need you to tell me…”

“I want to feel you,” your words have him rutting against you like he’s nervous, and you hear him swear that you’re trying to kill him. “I want you to be inside me, God I want your cock so badly—”

His tongue in your mouth quiets you enough for him to process your request, and when you look up at him he shakes his head in awestruck disbelief.

“Okay,” he eventually says, once he’s had a moment to stare down at your heaving chest and regain control. “Okay, sweetheart.”

the first brush of him against your bare lips had you begging like a sex-deprived pervert, and you couldn’t stop babbling about how he already felt so good and made you feel so good you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

he’d whined when you finally welcomed his soft intrusion, lips trembling with want as he licked the sheen of sweat from your skin.

“Don’t stop,” he’d gasped when you’d made purposeful eye contact with him and bore down on him, and the squeeze of your hands on his ass told him that you really meant what you were begging for. “I don’t know….you’re perfect. Just keep...YESSsssss…”

You feel how close you are, Gene’s rhythmic rocking somehow finding stride in your embarrassingly wanton writhing, the air between you nearly as hot as it had been all those months ago.

“I’m close, i’m so close, my love….” your words are more air than voice, but you know he understands because he’s nodding as he bites at your nipple softly. “I want you to come, too. That’s what I want, Eugene- please let me feel you when you—”

“Don’t —” he groans, one of his hands flying up to cover your mouth. His stomach trembles against yours as he changes the tilt of your hips just so before starting a punishing pace that robs you of any ability to think coherently. “Don’t you dare say something like that- FUCK, especially when you’re looking a t me like that—and expect me not to fucking burst—”

I love you I love you I need you too much. you’re so perfect, you ruin me.

Please don’t let me go. Please stay here with me.

The building wave in your belly finally crests and you’re gone, a breathy wince twisting your face as the hand that had been on your mouth jumps down to your clit as your orgasm crashes you to and fro.

In a tremble of his own he quickly pulls out of your sex and spills himself onto your stomach. As he comes, his grip on you is almost painful, but some part of your blissed-out mind relishes the idea of finding bruises on your hips and thighs later.

“Yes,” you sigh, even though part of you wishes he’d forget about being responsible for one minute and come inside of you. “Oh, God yes, Gene…”

You know why he doesn’t, you know why he really shouldn’t.

Last time, he had.

He also almost had a panic attack at the idea of getting me pregnant the last time, so i guess this is a fair trade.

He’s still fighting to control his breathing when you take his face i your hands and iss him sweetly, speckling kisses across his face as you pull him to your chest and hold him there.

“So good,” you’re cooing, drunk on endorphins and your lover. “Fuck, you’re too good at that…”

He barks a laugh, the sound warm and sleepy against your neck.

You reach for one of your wet washcloths from your shower earlier and wipe his cum from your skin, rolling your eyes when he grumbles an apology.

“Maybe next time you can come in my mouth, if this embarrasses you so much.”

his entire body stiffens at that, and when you start to laugh he prods you gently in the rib.

“That’s it. I’m dead….I’ve died. You’ve killed me.”

You recover the quickest between the two of you, and you wrap your arms around him and trace patterns across his back until his breathing slows, the sweat on your skin cooling and leaving you feeling sated and dirty.

“Whoops.” you say, not even trying to sound sorry. “But….my point still stands.”

you feel him shake his head, and you let your eyes slide shut when he presses a wet hiss to your shoulder.

“Je suis amoureux de vous.”

you nod,even though you know he can’t see it.

“I know, and I’m in love with you, too.”

“Happy birthday.” he grumbles, or at least that's what you think he’s said.

You’d shared a bed with him enough by now to know that Eugene was going to be asleep within the next forty seconds, so you shifted slightly so you were more comfortable beneath him.

“Just wait til next month,” you say half to yourself, calculating the days between your birthday and his. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

But he’s already snoring softly, and he doesn’t hear your threat.

You duck a kiss to his temple. “I really do love you.”

In his sleep, Gene mumbles your name, and you decide that maybe being soft for someone isn’t so bad after all.

(WOW HERE’S PART TWO. It’s pure filth. It’s gross. I need to go drink some water and think about what i’ve done)

tagging @georgeparisole , @itswormtrain , and @a-big-ball-of-idk bc y’all commented and gave me the incentive to crank this out

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #eugene roe x reader #it's vv bad but I'll just add it to the pile of already burning garbage pile that is my bibliography

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that-house · 4 years ago

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The Advertiser (A City of Mammon story)

Thursday, June 8th, 3358

I finally have a job! It pays really well, and the hours are super generous. I’m an undercover advertiser! From 10 to 1 on weekdays a marketing AI or my human manager takes control of my mind and body and uses me to advertise for various companies. My contract prevents me from telling anyone about it, so I’m writing about it in my journal.

Friday, June 9th, 3358

It’s a little scary. I black out at 10 AM and I come to 3 hours later in a different location. It’s worth it though. I’ve never had so much money! Ever since the Free Will Law was passed in 3352, forcing companies to double the salary for jobs that require the employee to sacrifice their free will, I’ve been dreaming of getting a job like this. It’s one of the highest-paying jobs available to Middle Marketers!

Monday, June 12th, 3358

I think I dream while I’m being piloted. I don’t remember the dreams, though. But there’s some semblance of memories.

Tuesday, June 13th, 3358

I got a bonus! People I’ve interacted with on the job have been purchasing the products I’ve recommended them. Just once, I’d like to be able to see what goes on. Do I still act like myself? Are the ads subtle or do I just scream about my favorite brand of toothpaste? I might put up some cameras.

Wednesday, June 14th, 3358

THAT IS NOT ME. Do you know how creepy it is to see yourself moving in a way you never would? I’m not a graceful person, but whatever is controlling me does so with fluid precision. I only put up a camera in my house, so I don’t know anything else about the job. I’m going to spread my surveillance network further out.

Thursday, June 15th, 3358

I’m getting tired of taking taxis back home. The fees are racking up. Today I wound up halfway across the city. I suppose they don’t want me interacting with people who know me. They might recognize that it isn’t me. I’ll be putting cameras up in my neighborhood this weekend.

Friday, June 16th, 3358

I think I had another dream. I don’t know where my mind goes when I get taken over, but I remember feeling something. The AI seems to know my body better than I do. Everything it does looks so smooth and polished. It knows where my limbs end. I could never imagine it stubbing my toe or hurting me in any way. Its control makes me feel safe, but I’m also jealous that it’s using my body better than I ever could.

Monday, June 19th, 3358

I got my cameras set up. They cover a few blocks. Today they picked up something… unnerving. Today, whoever was piloting me was most certainly not the AI. They were clumsy and didn’t seem to understand the dimensions of my body, but they moved with so much purpose. They stalked to the door and waited impatiently for a taxi, got in as quickly as possible, and sped off. When I came to, I was unharmed, and didn’t notice that anything was different until I watched the video.

Tuesday, June 20th, 3358

The AI was back today. I don’t know what yesterday was. I’m confused. The pay is still excellent, I’m still unharmed. I guess my manager must have stepped in yesterday, though why they did I don’t know.

Wednesday, June 21st, 3358

Today was unsettling for two reasons. My manager took control again, and I had a nightmare. It’s weird seeing my unconscious body which I’ve gotten so used to being graceful and calm being almost angry instead. But nothing bad has happened yet, other than the nightmare. I felt the familiar symptoms of the blackout coming on, the fuzzy vision and the mild headache, and the next thing I knew I was falling. I landed in a pool of blood, hot and red and sticky and tasting of iron. It was just deep enough that I couldn’t quite keep my mouth above the surface. I tried to scream but the blood flooded into my mouth, choking my cries before they could make it out.

Thursday, June 22nd, 3358

I need to spread my cameras further. My manager took control of me again. There’s something about the way I move when they’re in control that scares me. Too much confidence and too much anger.

Friday, June 23rd, 3358

Today my manager took the stairs. They took me outside and up to the next floor, maybe higher. My cameras are focused on the ways the taxis tend to go. I hadn’t considered that I might walk somewhere. I know everyone in the building. Surely they would notice that something’s wrong.

Monday, June 26th, 3358

I put up more cameras. I don’t think my manager is advertising. They’re going up and down the building. They aren’t going to anyone I don’t already know. There’s no way they could mimic me well enough to not give themselves away. They clearly aren’t trying to sell anything. The nightmares are getting worse.

Tuesday, June 27th, 3358

I got another bonus. I don’t think I’ve sold anything in a week. I can afford more cameras. At this point I could start my own security firm. I haven’t been controlled by the AI in a long time. I miss it.

Wednesday, June 28th, 3358

Someone put up missing person flyers throughout the building. Mr. Sharpe hasn’t been seen for a few days. There were signs of a struggle, blood in his apartment. The day they think he went missing I had a nightmare. I dreamt I saw his face. It was awful. By Mammon it was awful. His teeth were ripped out, his nose was cut off, and there were scissors in my hands. I’m beginning to worry that I had something to do with it.

Thursday, June 29th, 3358

If you were a serial killer who could kill through other people wouldn’t you do it?

Friday, June 30th, 3358

Fuck. I’ve slept on it, and I think my manager is killing people through my body. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I will continue writing in this journal until this problem has been concluded. Should the writing in this journal end before we have reached a satisfying end, it is likely that I myself have been killed.

Monday, July 3rd, 3358

I called my employer to ask who my manager is. They said they weren’t at liberty to tell me. I had another nightmare, this time about Ms. Hathaway. I won’t be surprised if flyers bearing her face are up tomorrow.

Tuesday, July 4th, 3358

Happy Dollar Day! The flyers went up. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do. My manager has been doing a good job sneaking around so far. The security drones still aren’t looking for me. I’m worried it’s only a matter of time. I need to find my manager, and soon.

Wednesday, July 5th, 3358

Another nightmare. I might as well report Ms. DiAngelo’s disappearance myself. I can only assume that if her body is found, it will have been brutalized with a hammer. That’s what happened in my dream. I feel like I’m stuck watching myself commit atrocities from the outside.

Thursday, July 6th, 3358

Upon further examination, there’s blood under my nails. I’m a weapon for my manager. They’re using me to kill people, and if I get caught they’ll move on to another undercover advertiser. They might be using multiple people at once.

Friday, July 7th, 3358

I want to quit, but I can’t. Quitting won’t stop my manager. They’ll keep on killing unless I stop them. I’m the only person who can do anything. I don’t know how much blood is on my hands. They’ve been used to kill at least three people, but there could be more. I may not be the mind behind the killing but I’m guilty enough. It’s my responsibility to end this.

Monday, July 10th, 3358

Normally I write following my shift, but as soon as it ends I’m heading to the company headquarters. I’m bringing a gun. This ends today. I’ll write another entry when I get back to provide closure, and then I’d like to put this journal and this grisly business behind me.

#the city of mammon #neon-grey-writing #short story #horror #capitalist horror

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virtueangel · 4 years ago

Text

limitless.

chapter twelve.

wc: 1,817. original publish date: october 25, 2020.

"You're really gonna be in for it if I get tetanus from all of this rust, JFK," Van Gogh grumbles as he climbs up the service ladder. Kennedy is following behind him, full intentions of keeping the promise to catch the boy if he falls.

"You're not going to get tetanus, Vinny. You're too careful for that."

"It's not care so much as fear," he replies.

Vincent manages to climb onto the platform without cutting himself on any rusty metal sticking out from the ladder. He moves aside and waits for JFK before stepping onto the rollercoaster track.

"Are we going to fall and die?" Van Gogh asks, peering at the barely-visible ground below him.

JFK laughs. "No, Minivan. We're not going to fall and die."

Van Gogh rolls his eyes. "If you're wrong, I'm not letting you write my eulogy."

"You were going to let me write your eulogy before?"

Now it's Vincent's turn to laugh. "No, of course not. You may be smarter than you let on, but there's no way I'm letting you 'errr' and 'uhhh' your way through my funeral."

John smacks the boy on the head playfully. "Hey! I only 'errr' and 'uhhh' when I'm nervous!"

"And you wouldn't be nervous then?"

JFK takes a moment to think. "No. I'd just be sad."

Vincent and John step out onto the green-tinted rollercoaster track, hand-in-hand for support. Van Gogh walks right on the edge, the toe tips of his Keds threatening to dangle off the side. Kennedy squeezes the boy's hand harder. "You're making me nervous, darling."

Van Gogh turns to JFK, a daring look in his eyes. "I just wanted to see if I could flare up your 'errr'ing."

Kennedy rolls his eyes playfully. "Yeah, yeah, you've made your point. I'm a huge fucking dork."

Vincent grins. "I'm going to remember that you said that."

The boys walk together in contented silence, their cheeks swelling pink from the cool breeze and the misty fog. Van Gogh moves away from the edge of the track, pressing up against JFK as he walks. Kennedy peers down at the boy.

“I’m cold,” Vincent explains with a bashful smile on his face.

JFK lets go of Van Gogh’s hand to wrap his arm around the boy, pulling him closer. “What about now?”

Vincent smiles, a bubbly laugh rumbling up his throat. He speaks in a low voice, even though the only thing around to hear is the fog. “Better.”

Kennedy smiles as Van Gogh nuzzles in to his chest. “Good.”

A couple seconds go by. Jack and Vinny take careful steps down the rollercoaster track, Vincent tucked under John's arm as they walk. The only sounds in the world are their breaths, and the occasional whirr of an unseen plane flying by overhead.

"Can I ask you a question?" Van Gogh asks.

"Yes," JFK replies almost immediately, as if he'd been expecting those exact words.

Vincent hesitates for a second, forming the perfect phrasing in his mind. "How come you always present yourself as some airhead jock when you're so much more than that in reality?"

"I guess it's just easier that way."

"Easier than what?"

Kennedy takes a moment to think, trying to put his feelings into words the way Van Gogh knows how to. He always has the most coherent thoughts, the most truthful outlooks on life. He sees everything.

"Easier than having a foot in both worlds."

Vincent reaches up to play with a loose thread in JFK's letterman jacket. "You've already got one foot in both worlds, Jack."

"I don't see how I can be a star athlete and a star student."

"But you have no trouble at all being John F. Kennedy's clone and a normal high school student."

JFK hesitates before answering. "You don't know that."

Van Gogh furrows his eyebrows. No, he doesn't know that. "You wear him so well, though. Wear yourself so well."

Kennedy shrugs. "Most days it's just smoke and mirrors." He adds, "I have a lot of people looking up to me."

Vincent lets the loose thread free. "I know."

The two come to a stop at the end of the track, where there's a small dip before it curves to turn the rollercoaster cab around, when there actually was a cab. The boys sit down, their legs dangling over the side, trying not to think about how far away the ground is. Van Gogh snuggles up to JFK, but not because he's afraid of heights: just because he's cold.

"What are you thinking about?" John asks, his voice soft as he moves some hair out of Vincent's face to see his profile better.

Van Gogh takes a deep breath before pulling his gaze away from the foggy abyss and returning his conscience to reality. "I was thinking about how pretty the world would look if it all went up in flames."

"Are you an arsonist, Minivan?" JFK teases, a hint of a smile behind his voice.

Vincent looks away, hiding his own smile from view. "I already told you, Jack. I just like the smell of fire."

Kennedy grins. "I assumed that was a euphemism for sex."

Van Gogh shoves his boyfriend playfully. "You're so crude!"

JFK fakes a wince. "Can't a boy have any fun?"

Vincent kisses his cheek. "Not if you're going to be so abrasive."

John turns his face so his lips meet Vincent's, and in that moment, he realises that he’s never kissed anyone like this before -- without all the tongue and the teeth and the competition. They kiss for a couple minutes, the action never getting to be anything less than innocent. Van Gogh never expected he'd be this comfortable with the first person he kissed -- he never imagined it'd be more than a one-time thing with him.

"Can I tell you something, Vincent?"

"Oooh, this is a new one. You don't want to ask me something, you want to tell me something," he replies. "Yes, you can tell me something."

"I have no idea what I want to do when I grow up."

"I thought you wanted to be a politician," Van Gogh says.

JFK shrugs. "Yeah, I do, but it doesn't sound... perfect, you know?"

Van Gogh nods. "Yeah, I get what you mean."

"Does painting sound perfect?" Kennedy asks. "For you, I mean."

Vincent smiles, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree against the thick fog. "Yes, it does. It always has. I think I got lucky. Maybe I got, I don't know, wired this way or something, but I really do enjoy all the things I'm supposed to enjoy, being Van Gogh's clone and all."

John flashes his lopsided grin, his eyes washing over his boyfriend with reserved affection. "I wish I could be like that. Like him."

"You are."

"You don't have to be nice just because we're dating now, Vinny. You've never been one to lie."

Van Gogh stares out into the fog again, a pensive look turning over his face. "He was queer coded, you know."

"What does that mean?"

Vincent rolls his tongue over in his mouth, feeling the words before releasing them into the air. "It's like... when someone doesn't explicitly state that they're attracted to people of the same gender -- queer -- but they sort of... exhibit the qualities. Like their actions just scream queer."

"Like gaydar?"

Van Gogh throws his head back as he laughs, his fiery orange hair wet with mist. "I guess you could say it's like gaydar, yes."

"Wait, but doesn't that only apply to, like, fictional characters?"

Vincent shrugs. "He was rumoured -- more than rumoured -- to have homosexual tendencies."

JFK smiles. "How much research have you done on the real JFK, Minivan?"

Van Gogh giggles before turning serious. "Enough to see similarities between him and you."

John kisses Vincent softly on the head before Van Gogh rests it on his shoulder.

"And I'm scared to graduate," John adds.

"What? Why? Because of college?"

JFK shakes his head, unsure of how to respond. "I thought I was afraid to leave Exclamation!, but I think there was just... one thing I would miss. One thing I was worried that if I left, I would never see again. I didn't want to let it out of my sight."

Vincent grins. "Oh, yeah? What's that?"

Kennedy rolls his eyes, but can't suppress his smile. "You, silly."

A couple seconds of silence go by. The two listen to their breathing, wrapped up in each other's arms and comforted in each other's body heat.

"I like the world from up here," Vincent whispers.

"You can't even see anything," John protests, his toothpaste model teeth peeking out through his grin.

"It looks like the world is limitless. Feels like the world is limitless."

JFK rests his chin on Van Gogh's head. "Our world is limitless. And this is our world, right?"

Van Gogh blinks slowly, a calm smile turning up the corners of his lips. Everything feels right, in this wet fog with this warm boy in this amusement park town. "I like it when you kiss me."

"Well, that works out, because I like it when you kiss me."

Up there on the rollercoaster track, the world doesn't feel so big. Marshtown is spread out beneath their feet, though they can barely see past their dangling legs through the thick fog. The sky is hazy with mist and Van Gogh can't stand that his hair is wet, but he refrains from making a scene because he doesn't want to throw JFK's chin off of his head. He likes the way he fits into the boy, like they were moulded together, like they were crafted to be each others' missing puzzle piece. Vincent wraps his arms around John's midsection, pulling them closer together until there's no space between their torsos at all. They are a tangle of arms and a continuation of clothing, neither of them sure where one ends and the other begins. Van Gogh wants to breathe him in, to have his clean yet sweaty scent permanently implanted in his nostrils. He likes the way his heart races when he sits next to JFK, he likes the way his head spins when he thinks of all the things he's too afraid to say out loud. Now, he tries one of the phrases out on his tongue, just to see what it would feel like to say the others.

"It's our rollercoaster. We get to build the track."

Kennedy nods in agreement before closing his eyes, his breath slowing as his mind calms itself down. He tastes Vincent's scent in his mouth, against his tongue, against his teeth. He holds all the thoughts he can't say out loud and stores them in his back pocket, waiting for a perfect moment to take them out and paint them across the boy’s stomach, one by one.

#clone high #clone high jfk #clone high van gogh #jfgogh #limitless

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acrobaticcatfeline · 4 years ago

Text

Date Night

Word Count: 1793

TW: sympathetic Janus and Remus, crying, there's quite a bit of Romangst.

Pairings: minor intruality and sanflorez, logince because what else?

Notes: Sanders Sides’ anniversary is in two days! This is my first ever canonverse fic I’ve ever finished. I love Nico a normal amount. I just want everyone to get along and feel appreciated. This is also the first time I’ve successfully finished a fic in like more than a year so! Hope y'all enjoy!

Summary: Thomas has a date with Nico and everyone wants this to go perfectly.

“Thomas you look terrible you have to fix this!”

��Virgil, I know this is your job but also could you please not???”

Thomas was getting ready for a date with Nico and currently Virgil was floating around his head filling him with enough doubt that he was half ready to just cancel.

“YOU CANT CANCEL!!!”

Virgil's voice boomed enough that not only did Thomas drop his brush, but Patton and Roman popped in. They shared a look at each other, then to Virgil and Thomas, then back to each other. Patton went to Thomas, legs crossed as he floated behind him, hands on his shoulders massaging gently as Roman went to Virgil, the only one choosing to stand as he tried to calm the anxious side.

“Hey kiddo! I know you're nervous, but you got this! Now pick back up that brush and finish up your hair! I know this is gonna be great!”

“But Virgil said I look awful!”

“He's panicking. He wants this to go well as much as the rest of us do. He wasn't trying to discourage you kiddo, he's doing his best”

Thomas took in a deep breath as Roman guided Virgil through a few breathing exercises in the corner of the bathroom.

“One thing you can taste Vee”

“Fear. um, um, the toothpaste Thomas just used”

“Good job Virge. Breathe. Hyperventilating isn't helping anyone”

“Yeah. yeah you're right”

“You're doing great moody gloom. Maybe you should take a break. Tap out for a while”

“But Thomas needs!!!”

“Thomas is overwhelmed, and so are you. Take five emo, we got this”

“... fine. Ok. just, don't let him look bad ok?”

“Wouldn't dream of it”

Virgil sunk out and Roman took in a deep breath as he spun towards Thomas with a grin. He walked over and mussed up his hair a bit, to which Thomas grumbled slightly. Patton giggled as Roman fixed his hair in just the right way. Thomas let a smile slip onto his face as Roman finished it with a satisfied noise.

“Thanks Ro. You're a huge help”

“My pleasure! Now about this outfit…”

They were all in the mind palace again as Thomas went to meet up with Nico. Patton was fixed to the TV, watching through Thomas’ eyes as he drove, with a smile on his face. Virgil was sat nearby as well, but with his headphones on to help him stay calm. Logan was holed up in his room, hiding they assumed, as when they had first met Nico he had short circuited and as Patton recalled to Roman, ‘sat staring at the TV with heart eyes for a good few hours’. Regardless, Logan also had a lot to do with all of this happening, let alone the patreon that had exploded. Janus was sitting on the table with a mug of coffee also watching the TV. His interest was muted as both Roman and Virgil had made it loud and clear that he was unable to interfere in any way. Whether he was planning on listening was debatable. Roman and Remus were however in the kitchen giggling like children and baking.

“He is so cuteeee!!!”

“I agree! Absolutely bootylicious even!!!”

“God he's heavenly. I can't believe we scored a date with him!!! He still liked Thomas after he said he was the one that fell into the trash can!!!”

“I KNOW RIGHT!!! God he's my soulmate, he loves us in all our trash man entirety!!!”

“I figured you would be excited about that”

The two laughed as Roman pulled the goodies out of the oven. Roman was always happy to have the powers of the imagination as he pulled out trays upon trays of baked goods. He and Remus got to work separating them onto separate plates. And Remus quickly let out an exaggerated breath to cool down everything as they stacked them up to bring out to the living room. Remus sat down next to Patton, handing him a cookie with a soft smile that Patton returned excitedly. Patton scooted closer to Remus and leaned his head on his shoulder.

Roman however, took the last plate of cookies and ventured off to Logan's room. He knocked three times and entered, and like he had expected, Logan was curled up on his bed with a genuinely elated smile on his face as he seemed to behave like pearl from Steven Universe as his eyes glazed over and he watched what Thomas was up to. Roman smiled gently at him, gently brushing a stray strand of hair out of Logan's face. Logan blinked then, focusing back on where he was and closed his eyes again as he leaned into Romans hand.

“Hey there rocket man”

“Hey there”

Logan's eyes open and Roman can't help the skip his heart does when Logan looks at him, his face pure happiness; bliss and love plainly evident in his eyes as he looks at him. Roman cant hold himself back from kissing him right there. It's not long, but it doesn't matter because Logan's smile only gets bigger and Roman only falls even more in love with him.

“You know, maybe it's not so bad you've hidden here, I get to keep this beautiful boy in front of me all to myself”

And Logan laughs, and Roman doesn’t know how he was so lucky, so blessed to be loved by the logical side, to get to see him smile so unashamed, to hear his laugh like bells and sunshine, to be able to hold him close and tell him that he is his universe, his stars and moons and planets and nebulae, that he is his everything and know the feeling is mutual. It's like nothing else, and it's only more intense as the fog of emotions weighs over them all. Not that it makes much of a difference in this moment as Logan looks at him yet again and really this is just how he always feels around him, he doesn’t know if he would ever fall out of the pure bliss of love with Logan, he doesn’t think he will ever be able to look at Logan and not feel his chest swell in happiness.

Logan shifts away a bit and Roman lets his hand fall to his side as Logan climbs out from under his blankets and moves closer to Roman, nearly in his lap, leaning against his chest with his arms around him. Roman wraps his arms around his boyfriend and brings him even closer, placing a kiss on the top of his head. He rubs circles into his back and hums contentedly.

“So, I used your Crofters”

Logan pulls back and glares at Roman and Roman has to hold back the chuckle in his throat.

“I see. I don't think you get cuddles anymore-”

As he said that Roman grabbed one of the cookies and hands it to him and Logan's eyes go wide. He looks between the cookie and Roman and that beautiful smile returns as he takes a bite.

“Is cuddle time still over?”

“You can stay, I suppose. Are there more?”

“Of course”

Logan goes back to curling up in his lap when he finishes his cookie. Roman is happy there, with his boyfriend bundled up in his arms, Thomas off on a date with a cute boy as well as the cookies next to him.

“I love you starlight”

Roman is surprised by that. Logan was not one for outright declarations of love, he much preferred to just show it, it was less awkward for him, easier than getting himself to say it out loud. Not to say he never did, Logan was the one to ask him out first. And there's been other occasions since then, but it was rare to hear him say it. So Roman held Logan tighter and smiled wider.

“I love you too princess”

“How do you think Thomas is doing?”

“Good, I think. I think he's gonna be ok”

“I'm scared. I feel like I cant do my job, there's so many feelings all the time”

“I know baby. It'll be ok. I know you'll figure it out. You always do”

Logan stops responding for a while and Roman is ok with that, with sitting in silence. And then he speaks up again.

“This is going to sound dumb, but it feels like when I’m able to be alone with you, but all the time”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… you make me so… happy. It's hard to focus when I'm with you because I just, you’re so much more important. But now it's like that all the time and it's weird. It's weird to feel it at all, let alone at all times of the day. I just, how do you do work like this?”

Roman felt the surge of love again, he makes Logan happy. He makes Logan so happy that it's hard for him to focus. Logan thought he was important. He felt like he could cry.

“I don't know. It's sort of my element, I think I personally work better with the fog. It's a good feeling to encourage creativity. It's hard for me to do my job these days without it. If it was the slightest bit reasonable id do my work here with you”

Logan stiffens and Roman panics a bit.

“You, what do you mean?”

Logan leans back and looks at him.

“I haven't felt my princely self in a good long while. You make me feel happy too lo, I've been stuck without inspiration for ages but I feel like when I’m with you I could write unendingly, like my creativity can thrive”

Logan's eyes widened and he dove back into Romans chest, face red and warm. Roman chuckled lightly.

“I don't deserve you”

“Your insane Lo. You deserve the world and more”

“You're so good to me. You're so good”

“So are you hun”

“No, Roman, you're so good, you know that right?”

Roman stills. He doesn't understand what Logan is talking about.

“What are you on about Lo?”

“You're good. You're a good person, you're good at your job, you're a good boyfriend, none of us say it enough, but Roman you’re so good and we all love you. I love you so much Roman, I'm sorry that I don't say it enough”

Roman stutters. He doesn't know how to respond but he can feel tears falling down his face. He shoves his face into Logan's hair as he feels himself shake from the sobs he feels escaping.

“Thank you Logan, I love you too, god I love you so much Logan”

Logan leans back again when Roman stops crying with a small smile.

“You wanna watch some Disney?”

“That sounds amazing”

Taglist: @fivebyfive-finebyfive @tacohippy56900 @analogical-mess @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @angels-and-dreams @fandomloverangel @booklover223

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing!!!

Thank you for reading I will see you later ladies lords and nonbinary royalty!!!

#roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #duke remus #janus sanders #ts janus #thomas sanders #canonverse #logince #intruality #sanflorez #sanders sides fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction

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raisingsupergirl · 4 years ago

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My Life With COVID-19: Week 1--Say Goodbye to Food

I never thought being a statistic would come with so much baggage. It's not that I thought it would never happen to me. In fact, I thought it already had happened to me. A couple of times. And maybe it did. But none of them were like this. I'm going to try to explain it as best as I can (you know, for science and future generations), but bear with me. COVID brain is definitely a thing.

I guess this story starts on 12/12/20. That's the day that my dear friend passed away. We were supposed to start a Dungeons & Dragons campaign together soon. Him, me, and three other good friends. But that Saturday, I got the text that he had passed away the previous night (not related to COVID, as far as I'm aware). Well, that following evening, those three other friends and I got together to remember him, to process some emotions, and to drink whiskey. The next day I woke up feeling… less than perfect. Of course, I thought it was from lack of sleep and too much alcohol, but it was weird. I didn't drink that much. Not to feel that bad. And there were some weird things, too. My eyeballs hurt (really bad) like I had a fever, but I didn't have a fever. And my fatigue level was through the roof. Other than that, normal body aches and lack of appetite that come with over-indulgence, so I didn't think much of it. Even when I woke up on Monday with persistent symptoms, I just assumed I was getting REALLY old and should never drink again. Yeah, I'm kind of dumb sometimes.

Monday and Tuesday could be characterized by general lack of energy, some mild congestion, and those danged achy eyeballs. And the only food that appealed to me was soup, and only in small amounts. "Just a little cold," I told myself. Even still, I had the good sense to be extra-cautious with my hand washing and mask wearing procedures. Unfortunately, I didn't have the good sense to get tested at that time. Mostly because my insurance doesn't cover testing (which is $150/swab), but also because I was in denial. I needed to work. My patients needed treatment. I was important… irreplaceable. And, of course, I didn't want to have to call my friends and tell them I'd exposed them Saturday night.

Wednesday was more of the same, but I felt even more fatigued. Then, someone else I'd come into contact with the previous week let me know that they'd tested positive. Crap. That's when the pieces started falling into place. And the last one fell as I was drinking a glass of alcohol (elderberry tincture, actually. Which I'd made myself as a COVID preventative… guess I should have started drinking it earlier…). While I sipped, I was actually hanging out with those same Saturday friends, but this time virtually. We were playing computer games. And about halfway through the glass of elderberry goodnes, I noticed that it wasn't nearly as floral or alcoholic tasting as it should have been. I assumed it was getting watered down, but suspicion started creeping up my spine. And by the end of the glass, it tasted like straight water (which tastes like nothing…). Like some infected dummy straight out of a zombie movie, I told no one and went to bed, hoping against hope that I would wake up to the smell of bacon (or anything).

When my alarm went off the next morning, I popped out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. First thing I did? Took a long whiff of my deodorant stick. Nothing. I stuck the toothpaste up to my nose. Still nothing. Brushed my teeth. Foamy nothing. Went to the bathroom. Thankfully nothing. And then it was time to go downstairs, face my wife, and finally say it out loud. "I can't smell anything. It's completely gone." And that's the moment that it became real. No turning back. One rapid test later, and my fate was sealed. My boss started clearing my schedule for the next week, and my mind started racing with all of the people I needed to call. All the things I needed to do. What my life would look like for the next ten days. Even now, I don't know if the virus was effecting my cognition and emotions or not, but I do know that I was a mess.

By the time I got home, my world was spinning. I was angry, ashamed, confused, defeated, and overwhelmed. Mostly overwhelmed. I made sure my wife had pulled our daughter from school, and then I went up to my room. Not because I was quarantining from them, but because I couldn't handle being around anyone, even those whom I loved most (I mean, I'd be spending plenty of time with them over the next week anyway, right?).

Over the next hour, I felt like someone with an STD contacting all of my past… well, you know. I texted, I messaged, I called. Everyone was incredibly understanding. They all wanted to know how I was doing. And it felt almost shameful saying that I felt fine. "Just a little fatigued, eyeballs hurt a little, some congestion. And the no smell thing." It's funny how that didn't dawn on me yet. In the flurry of confusion, I hadn't stopped to consider what life without smell would be like. That revelation would come later. No, right now I was focused on the bigger things. I wouldn't be able to attend my friend's funeral this Saturday. I wouldn't be able to host Portmas (an annual Christmas celebration with those same friends) that night. I wouldn't be able to go to work for over a week. The days would feel like months… Have I mentioned that I'm a bit of a work-a-holic? Yeah, well, there was a BIG part of me right then that thought, "God did this. I wouldn't slow down. I wouldn't quit working. Even when I was sick, I was too dumb to take a step back. So God took my smell away. It's my fault for being so stubborn. And God finally stepped in." Yeah, those are some thoughts that I'll continue to unpack over the next couple of weeks, but for now it's enough to say that my thoughts and emotions were about as confused as my senses.

Speaking of which, my lovely wife made me a can of chicken-n-noodle soup for lunch. And it felt great. Warm, soothing, and satisfying. But with each bite, reality settled in the pit of my broth-laden stomach. It wasn't that I couldn't taste ANYTHING. There was something there. A touch of saltiness and a hint of umami (look it up). My tongue wasn't completely dead… but my nose was. And so, another cascade of confused emotions. More anger. More fear. Google said "most" patients got their smell back in a week or two, but for some it could take up to a year. And a small percentage never got it back. NEVER!? And at best, I didn't know if I could handle two weeks. Honestly, I didn't.

If you haven't lost your sense of smell, I'm sure you think I was overreacting. I would have, too, before it happened to me (Yes, I'm aware of the irony of my blog post a couple of weeks ago). But I want to try and explain the seriousness of this situation to you. Maybe fore some it's not so bad—those who are suffering REAL COVID symptoms. Those fighting for breath and for life. But for those of use who feel otherwise "normal," it's a panic-inducing affliction. For example, I'm a fledgling home brewer. Do you know what all beer tastes like when you have no smell? Like water with a ghost of bitterness on both sides of the tongue. Do you know what straight whiskey tastes like? Exactly the same with just a slight warmth in the chest. And so, my brewing hobby is done. Just done. And cooking? There's no point. Everything might as well be raw cucumbers and unseasoned French fries. Texture and temperature. That's literally the only variation. Well… almost literally.

In my panic, I NEEDED to know what my limits were. I needed to know if I could find any enjoyment from food. And so, I went to the extremes. Cloves, even when eaten straight, had absolutely no flavor. Straight salt registered a little on the tip and back of my tongue. Sugar felt kind of thick on my tongue, and if I tried imagining it, I thought I could taste it a little. Cayenne pepper was a little tingly in the back of my throat, but nothing more. Horseradish did nothing at first and only a little tingling on the top of my mouth afterward (mind you, I ate enough of all of these things to kill an elephant). And finally, I took a bite of a lime. Whoa! That about knocked me over. Imagine not tasting anything for 24 hours and then suddenly biting into a lime. That's exactly what it tasted like. Okay, well, I couldn't actually taste any lime characteristics, but that SOUR sensation registered off the charts. The sensation was both hopeful and frustrating, and those two emotions fit in perfectly with my general disposition.

That night, I was mean. Cranky toward my wife. She made dinner, and I was bitter about it. Airfried shrimp and tater tots with cucumbers on the side. She was TRYING to satisfy my texture and temperature requirements. And she did well. But it was still ash in my mouth, cotton balls in my stomach. And no one seemed to understand my frustration and fear.

But that night, I realized there was something I hadn't considered, too. My family is close. We hug and kiss. We cuddle. And so, there didn't seem to be any reason for me to start quarantining from them now. Besides, both of my daughters already had the sniffles, so the likelihood was high that they already had the virus. And my wife thought that she'd already had it a few weeks before. But… if she hadn't. If she was still susceptible. I wasn't worried about her safety, so much. She's healthy. She works out, eats right, and nurtures her already strong immune system. But, if she lost her smell, too…

Okay, hear me out. This isn't just about food enjoyment or fart detection (yes, my wife giggled at the dinner table because she farted right next to me without me knowing…). It's about safety. Have you ever considered how dangerous it would be to live in a house with a gas stove if no one could smell? I mean, presumably the kids might notice something, but would they understand enough to let us know? I'm honestly not sure I would take that gamble. So here's hoping my wife keeps smelling, because I really don't want to move out.

Oh, speaking of my wife smelling, there's one last revelation I had about anosmia (lack of smell). For an anosmic person to take a shower is truly a selfless act. Think about it.

Anyway, by the time I post this (12/23/20), my quarantine will officially be over. I will have spent a week at home. So I'll definitely have more to tell. But these first few days are enough for now. Stay safe, friends. And don't forget to stop and smell the hot cocoa before you miss your chance.

#covid-19 #anosmia #no smell no taste #covid symptoms #life with covid #quarantine #momblr #dadblr #mumblr

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lostinspidey · 6 years ago

Text

too shy to say, but i hope you stay | peter parker

summary: peter doesn’t want to sleep alone, but he also doesn’t want to be a burden and ask you to stay the night.

word count: 1.2k

a/n: this is my first time writing for my boy peter - hope i did ok! i know there’s a bunch of other fics like this but i could personally read a million stories about falling asleep in petey boy’s arms. title is from come out and play by billie eilish & gif was made by @ironarm

warning(s): ENDGAME SPOILERS!!!, majority angst (i’m so sorry) w a fluffy ending :-)

“peter, seriously, i have to go,” you insist for the third time tonight, rising from the edge of his bed. you’ve been conversing on and off for a few hours now, making each other laugh while peter works on an english essay.

(you like to watch his face when he isn’t looking - how the screen of his laptop shines a bright light on his face, his nose casting a shadow over the pair of lips you’ve been trying not to stare at. luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice.)

“uh, definitely not,” he says, eyes still trained on his computer. “you just got here.”

“yeah, five hours ago.”

“five?!”

you can’t help but crack a smile. “mhm.”

“hang on, i’ve just got one more page.”

he lets out a big yawn, stretching his arms above his head, and your eyes suddenly fixate on his dark circles. have they always looked that bad?

“maybe you should wait till tomorrow, petey,” you say slowly, leaning against the edge of his desk. slowly so that he’ll take your advice into consideration instead of brushing it off.

of course, it doesn’t work. he looks up at you from his desk chair, eyes nearly pleading.

“it’s one more page, y/n. won’t take me any longer than half an hour. please just stay while i finish it.”

you shake your head. “nuh-uh. i need sleep and so do you.”

“i don’t need sleep. i’ve never needed sleep. i’m a machine.”

“peter.”

“yeah?”

peter continues typing, his fingers moving rapidly over his keyboard.

“c’mon peter. dude. peter, hey.”

your hand catches his wrist gently. he looks startled at first, peering up at you with wide eyes. now that he’s looking at you and not his computer, you can really see that he’s tired tired, the color drained from his cheeks and the sparkle disappeared from his eyes.

if you’re being honest, that sparkle’s been gone for a few months now. ever since the two of you returned to earth, peter’s been off for reasons that his aunt may has only half-explained to you.

all you know is that he still takes the long way home after that mural of tony stark went up near his apartment, still tenses up if someone mentions his name in class. the extent of their relationship isn’t something peter’s told you about just yet, and you know better than to bring it up.

you’re a bit surprised when peter lets you close the lid of his laptop. for the first time in five hours, the room is completely silent.

“i’m sorry.” peter’s voice is small. he clears his throat. “you’re right, you should totally go. uh, thanks for keeping me company and stuff.”

“do you always stay up this late?”

he scratches the back of his head nonchalantly. “normally, yeah. but it’s no big deal. i’m fine.”

your heart sinks. you know that peter would never lie to you unless he was trying to protect you. what could he be trying to hide from you this time?

“peter?”

“hm?”

“would you fall asleep easier if i was here?”

peter blinks, tearing his eyes away from yours. “um, i - i mean, if you want - i don’t want you to feel like you need to - it’s up to you, y/n, really.”

“okay.” you lower yourself back onto his bed decidedly. “then i will.”

peter smiles, and you can feel a piece of you melt, unable to help it. it’s the first genuine smile you’ve earned from him all night.

after your teeth are brushed and your pajamas are on (peter in an old decathlon shirt, you in a pair of aunt may’s sweatpants), you wordlessly climb into bed. he leaves as much space between the two of you as his twin bed will allow, a distant look in his eyes as he wills them from falling shut.

this isn’t the first time you’ve shared the bottom bunk, but it’s certainly been a while. you wait for peter’s shoulders to untense before asking:

“do i need to be concerned?”

peter frowns. “about what?”

“about my best friend. about the amount of sleep he may or may not be getting.”

he shrugs, but you can tell he’s hurting, itching to say something his brain won’t allow him to say. you wish he would follow his heart for once.

“sometimes…” peter begins, voice low. “sometimes i wish every night was this easy. laughing over dumb memes with you while we do our homework. that’s how it should be, right? we’re in high school. it should be that easy.”

your hand finds his beneath the covers, squeezing tightly. “why can’t it be that easy, petey?”

“because -” he stops himself, so eager to tell you yet so sleepy and broken that he isn’t sure where to begin.

he swallows audibly, and you can see that his eyes are wet, and fuck, you just want this poor boy to be happy.

“it’s okay.” you lift up your free hand, brushing away piece of hair that has flopped against his forehead. “it’s okay. you don’t have to tell me right now.”

“you know i want to, right?”

you nod. “is there anything you can tell me?”

“that i’m really glad you’re here. that you’re the most important person in my life.” ignoring the way his voice cracks, he interlaces your fingers against the mattress. “that i’m jealous of how dope the memes on your phone are and how mine look like shit in comparison.”

you laugh, and through some type of magnetic pull the two of you scoot closer to one another. peter’s arm slips beneath your shoulders, pulling you tight against his chest. even though you vanished alongside peter for five years, it feels like it’s been an eternity since you’ve done this.

“what about you?” peter asks, voice muffled by your hair. “anything you want to tell me?”

that i love you. i always have. that i love you so much it hurts. that i would do anything to protect you and try to put you back together again. you look up at him, biting your lip to keep the words from spilling out. he’s not the only one with a secret.

peter isn’t crying anymore, but his eyes are shining as he meets your gaze. sparkling, even. the fondness in them makes your cheeks burn. it would be so easy to kiss him if you wanted to.

his hand moves to your cheek, his fingers grazing your jawline so tenderly you want to burst. and so you do it.

your lips barely touch at first, but to your surprise, peter’s the one who leans in even more, tasting like toothpaste and something you’ll later realize is just him. a siren suddenly blares outside, and the two of you laugh at the ruined moment, teeth knocking clumsily against each other before the kiss is resumed.

all in all, it’s short and sweet and not at all what you expected to get out of tonight. peter looks just as shocked, but the wide smile on his face puts you at ease.

“wow, y/n, you have quite a way with words,” he cracks.

“what can i say? i know how to get a point across.”

he chuckles, lips now grazing against your forehead. after a few moments of silence, he whispers, “y/n?”

“yeah?”

“i’ll tell you everything one day. i - i will. i promise.”

“i know, peter.” you close your eyes, surrendering to the exhaustion of the day. you can only assume that he does the same. right now, his arms wrapped snug around you matters more than anything else. “i know.”

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #*

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carelessgraces · 4 years ago

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@potterstillstinks said: ❤️ for a romantic kiss. ( choose a kiss | accepting )

She doesn’t care about this holiday. Really, she doesn’t; she can buy herself candy whenever she wants, and the restaurants are all filled beyond capacity, and you cannot find a decent seat in any theater in the city, and there are just generally too many bodies encroaching on a single space, and Astoria can’t stand it. Now, a quiet evening at home, away from the crowd, that’s something appealing, but when she’d told Draco that she intended to spend Valentine’s Day catching up on her shows, so really, he didn’t have to plan anything, this is not a test, he’d been a good sport but he’d clearly been disappointed.

( See, she’s not much of a romantic, all things considered, but he is. It’s funny; they’re such a good match in so many ways, but there are times when he’s absolutely incomprehensible to her. That’s not the sort of thing her grandfather had warned her about in his thousand-plus attempts to set them up before they met, but she’s learning. )

And there really isn’t anyone else in the world she’d do this for, though she won’t admit it, not quite yet. ( It’s been less than six months. You don’t say this to someone with less than six months under your belt. It scares them away. You especially don’t say this to someone when you haven’t gone public. ) Three weeks, she’d spent working on this, practicing it a hundred thousand times, and she’d asked Draco over to spend the evening with her but she hadn’t mentioned this — so the first thing she does when he’s inside is kiss him half-breathless in greeting, and the second thing she does is whirl him around so that his back is to the interior of her apartment, and he can only see her and her closed front door.

“Do you trust me?” she asks, and Draco frowns.

“A little less when you ask me like that,” he says warily, but he’s a good sport. Good enough that he only laughs and shrugs when Astoria holds up a blindfold.

It’s not actually a blindfold; it’s a sleep mask, and he holds up his hands as if in surrender. “Do what you must,” he tells her, and he stands patiently as she slips the mask over his eyes and takes both his hands in hers.

She’s silent as she leads him, even when he sniffs and says, sounding delighted, “What did you order? I don’t recognize this.” She’s even silent when she sits him down, and when she moves to stand behind him, and when she settles her hands gently against the sides of his neck and sweeps down to press her lips to his cheek.

“No laughing,” she says sternly. “Promise?” And once he’s agreed, she takes the mask off and tosses it onto one of the unoccupied dining room chairs.

He’s silent as he takes it in, one hand moving absentmindedly to curl around her wrist while her thumbs brush along his jaw. She waits, worrying her lower lip between her teeth, as he takes it all in: the candles flickering in the windows, and the gentle glow of the lights dimmed just so, and the wine she’s selected to pair with the meal.

Three weeks. Three weeks, she spent practicing — a light pesto over rotini with roasted vegetables. She’d taken a week to choose the recipe, agonizing over whether or not it was too much garlic to be romantic, before simply buying a fresh tube of toothpaste — which she has sitting next to his place at the table, sticking out of a little bag with a ribbon tied around the top. A sauvignon blanc, grassy, lots of grapefruit and a hint of honey, to pair with it. And, simply because she’d wanted to prove to herself that she could do it, a very, very simple bruschetta with mozzarella on toasted bread. She’d burned it the first four times she did it. And then the sixth and seventh, too. There are a few burn marks on her forearms from the more disastrous encounters with the roasting pan, too, but all things considered, it wasn’t that bad.

On the credenza there are a few wrapped gifts for him, too, and there’s a dessert in the kitchen, and she bought the best coffee she could for after dinner, and she bites down hard enough now that she actually tastes a little bit of blood on her tongue.

He’s been silent for a long moment, and it’s starting to make her uneasy. Astoria clears her throat, and she lets out a little laugh. “It’s too much, isn’t it?” she asks. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed — ”

“You did all of this?” He looks up at her, finally, and she nods. “The food? You did all of that?”

“Mm. Yeah.”

Draco looks back at it wonderingly. She’s not sure why; he’s made her things a thousand times more complicated. She’s almost embarrassed by the simplicity of it. “But you don’t cook,” he says, and he sounds amazed. “You said the last time you boiled water you set your sleeve on fire.”

Astoria shrugs one shoulder, even though he can’t see her. “I practiced,” she says finally. “I wasn’t sure if I chose the right thing, but I couldn’t go much more complicated if I didn’t want to totally blow it.”

“And you said you don’t like Valentine’s Day.”

“I don’t. You do.”

“You don’t like grand gestures.”

“Draco,” Astoria says, cheeks flushing with embarrassment, certain she’s somehow, somehow, managed to ruin this before it’s even begun. “I like you. That was reason enough. It’s okay if you don’t want it, seriously, I won’t be mad, I just wanted to try — ”

Draco stands and turns to face her, tilting her face up and toward him. There is something impossibly soft in his expression, and for a moment he looks as though he’s struggling to say something, but the moment passes. His eyes flicker down to take in her clothes — a dress he’d complimented a few weeks back, a comment he’d made in passing about liking that color and cut for her, a comment she’d held onto ever since. Shoes she knows he likes. Underneath the dress, lingerie he’d bought for her, to replace a set that they’d torn to pieces during a particularly enthusiastic romp.

Somehow, his expression softens even further, and Draco meets her eyes again, his lips curled into a smile. “It’s perfect,” he insists, and he moves one hand to tuck her curls behind her ear. “I cannot believe you did this for me.”

Tentatively, Astoria leans forward to kiss him, and Draco immediately pulls her closer. The kiss is slow, and easy, like she’s been doing it her whole life, and when Draco pulls back for breath, he presses a kiss to her nose.

“I can’t believe you did all of this for me,” he says again, and Astoria shrugs.

“You’ve had so much going on. And you’re always so good to me, and you always, always know what I need, and I just — I wanted to remind you that I see all of that, and I appreciate that, and I appreciate you, and this could all be absolutely awful — ” But she’s rambling, she knows, and he’s offering her the most bemused and indulgent smile she’s ever seen him wear. Astoria steps just a bit closer, and she drapes her arms around his neck as his own slip around her waist. “I care about you,” she says, cheeks burning red, “a lot, and I just — you deserve for someone to take care of you, too. You mean a lot to me. I wanted you to know how much.”

“Enough to risk cooking?” he teases, and Astoria leans forward to kiss him again. This time, she sets the pace herself — her kiss is lazy and sweet, and if she weren’t worried the food would get cold she’d take her time with him now.

It still takes her more than a minute to step back, and she gestures toward the table. “Come on,” she says, and she’s grinning, now, “let’s eat, and then we can brush our teeth and settle in with a movie, or head right to bed — whatever you want. Seriously. I just want you to have a good night.”

Draco trails a few kisses down from the corner of her mouth to her throat. When he lifts his head again, he smiles at her, like she’s the most marvelous thing he’s ever seen.

“You mean a lot to me, too,” he says, and he takes her hand in his and presses a kiss to her palm. “I’m already having a good night. I just want more of you.”

Dinner is a success; the food is fine, the conversation is filled with laughter, the wine is a hit. So is coffee, afterward, and the plum pastry she bought from the bakery around the corner — maybe next year she’ll manage that one, too. ( And she’s thinking of next year, with him. And the year after that. And the year after that. )

( He makes her think about a future. He makes her think about a lot of things. Mostly, he just makes her happy. )

( Someday, she’ll ask him if he’s thinking those same things, too. )

#potterstillstinks #i. here's the truth from my red lips. ( answers )#v. in my defense i have none for never leaving well enough alone. ( alternate universe: modern | lawyer )#iii. i want you the way i want the sea: wildly. recklessly. gloriously. ( draco x astoria )

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adorable-american · 5 years ago

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In Denial pt2

Is in denial even two separate words? I suck at making titles.

Disclaimer: I dont own hetalia or its characters.

Ukus. Experienced! Arthur x naive! America

R18

Don't like, don't read.

After the lunch break America felt like he had a lot on his mind about last night and what he had been told this morning. Last night had basically been the first time that he'd ever gotten drunk with his friends, even if it was unintentional. And he had already been robbed of the insecurity that someone would do that to him. He now felt like he could never drink alone should he have wanted to, but that wasn't the only thing he had almost been robbed of. Thinking of it was making him sick now and he was trying anything he could to distract himself. From clicking his pen to tapping it, bouncing his leg to drumming his fingers. Nothing was really helping and everyone was becoming annoyed of him. That was apparent after being shushed and silenced each time. Finally he just excused himself and went to the restroom. He wasn't sure why he went there but he did. Grabbing the edge of the sink he just stared at himself in the mirror with discontent. Splashing cool water on his face in another fatal attempt to calm down.

"Would you like to go for a walk? Fresh air may do you some good." England had slipped into the bathroom to check on the American, knowing he wasn't ok.

"Sure, that sounds great."

England walked with America for quiet a bit until they found a little outdoor café. "Coffee?" The Englishman asked, wanting to stop and have a serious talk.

"Ooh! Yes, please!" America drifted towards the tables, finding a table for two and sitting themselves before a waitress came over.

"I'll have an London Fog." England requested.

"Uhm, just a black coffee for me. Thank you." America said before turning his attention to England. "Ok, so, I have something important to ask of you."

"Oh? Ok, ask." England encouraged him, still hoping Alfred could finally be admitting his affections. The way he was so nervous and squirming made it obvious it was a very personal question.

"So... last night-" America began recounting how he now felt about last night to England, how he felt robbed of so many little freedoms. "But there is one thing that the person almost took from me. Something very important- my virginity." America finally said it. He felt like he had already admitted it to himself but saying it now, telling that to another. He didn't feel a reprieve but instead he felt heavier with that information.

"Oh... Alfred." England paused as the waitress returned with their orders.

"Wait, I'm not finished." America interrupted. He didn't want Arthur's pity... or did he? He wasn't sure anymore. As the waitress left he continued, "So, my question to you is- would you be the one to help me get rid of my v-card?"

England choked on his drink. "What?!"

America folded his arms as he did when becoming defensive. Shrugging his shoulders up he began to curl in on himself. England could see him shutting down.

"Alfred, please, explain to me how you almost being raped, led to the conclusion that we should have sex? Forgive me for not understanding." England used America's human name when in public and right now, America wasn't sure he liked hearing it, it ringing a bell that they used their human names last night too. And a strange blurry figure talking to him using his name.

"Please! Don't call me that." America was losing his peace. He wanted to run away from here and never return.

"Hey, I'm sorry. It's ok, Ame." England spoke softly, switching easily to the nickname. Laying his hand on the table he had his palm open his fingers spread open like he was waiting for something.

America slowly gave England his hand, calming down as England started rubbing circles on the back of his hand and clasping America's one hand with both of his.

America sighed. "England, for me, giving up my virginity is my right. I want to choose that, I want my first time to be with someone special. I've like you for quite some time and you are always here for me." America paused looking England in the eye then down to their hands. America squeezed England's hand a little to prove his point. "I'm not deciding this out of fear if that's what you're thinking, I'm doing this for me." America finished the thought, returning his gaze to England's.

"Then yes, I will do it for you and only for you. But please, if at any point you change your mind do not feel like you have to do it. You are also allowed to change your mind and keep waiting for as long as you want." England spoke, hoping that the younger man might actually change his mind but he didn't react. England just sighed hoping he would at least think about it.

"So, Ame, I have an important question for you then." England inhaled and exhaled slowly before looking up to see the curious blue eyes in front of him. Eyebrows knit together wonderinf what he could be asked. England smiled at how cute he looked, hiding his smile however, thinking the timing a bit inappropriate. "So, America, I really like you a lot and I want to be here for you. I want to help you in every way possible but if you will allow me, I would like to be more than your friend. I would like for us to be together, as a couple?"

"Yes."America said without hesitation.

*******

Leaving the cafe together England invited America to continue their walk and sight see the city a little more. To which America agreed and took England's hand, they maybe it was America's lack of awareness or England's lack of attention to take things slow but they acted like any long term couple, holding hands, taking pictures with the gorgeous scenery and monuments. They got pictures kissing each other, America kissing England's cheek, and even one of England dipping America back for a passionate kiss. In just several hours it was like they'd been doing it for years. Until it came time to return back to the hotel. The closer they got to the hotel the more and more warmer America felt. His cheeks flushing red. England didn't notice as the sun sank and the street lights came on with the bluish hues. The night just as romantic as the day, if not more. Still trying to impress his new boyfriend the englishman soon heard a violinist playing on the sidewalk and he twirled America around, bowing to him and asking for this dance. All around people were awing and smiling at the action. America smiled nervously and took England's hand.

"It's ok, I'll lead. Just follow my step." He whispered into his ear and soon enough they fell into rhythm together.

And so they danced, America did his best to keep up with England but he stumbled and lost his footing a few times, tripping both of them up. England just smiled and laughed. Continuing the dance and trying his best to help America. England's laugh was contagious, America couldn't help but laugh too.

Soon the song ended, the violinst took a bow. Everyone who had been watching tossed notes into the violin case, including America. They continued their walk happy and still laughing at themselves.

*******

Entering England's hotel room he turned to America. "Do you want to shower first or maybe go get anything from your room?"

America hesitated. "Am I staying with you tonight?" He asked, mouth going dry.

"Well, I just assumed you would but you don't have too." England squatted down by his suitcase, pulling out lubricant and condoms from the inside pocket.

"Ah, yeah, I'd like too, I'll go get my night clothes and my suit for tomorrow." America said as he exited the room.

"You probably won't need-" England started but was cut off by the door clicking shut. Letting out a sigh he wished America would change his mind about this but he also wished that he wouldn't. Waiting patiently he went to turn the water on for America. Once the water was hot and steam escaped the bathroom England decided to just take one and go to bed, assuming America had changed his mind and probably didn't have the nerves to come tell him. He checked his phone once more. "It shouldn't take 10 mins to grab clothes." He spoke out loud. He hated how sad he felt that America didn't return but it was probably for the best.

Drying himself off, England stepped ouf of the bathroom to find America sitting on the edge of the bed. He had his knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around them as he rested his chin against his knee. "I didn't think you'd come back." Arthur said tucking his towel against his waist and moving over to the American.

"Sorry, I took a minute." America said putting his legs down.

England's lips started to twitch up into a smirk as he straddled the younger blonde's lap. "Or were you primping for me?"

America's face turned bright red, even his ears tinged red with embarrassment.

"How cute!" England kissed him, tasting the peppermint toothpaste that America used, and intentionally ruffling up America's brushed hair so that it looked more fluffy. "Your hair looks sexier like this."

Unbuttoning the top few buttons of America's dress shirt, England pushed the shirt open and let his hand roam over America's chest and shoulders. Pushing the shirt's collar away England kissed America's neck, letting his warm breath make the younger nation shiver. England quickly switched to using his teeth, leaving bite marks on America. Switching again to his lips he sucked America's sensitive skin, nipping and licking the area until little purple bruises formed.

America moaned and groaned, wrapping his arms around Britain's neck and pulled him closer. He could feel himself becoming hot under England's touch.

Feeling satisfied with the numerous markings England left on America he finally traveled downward, undoing America's shirt completely. He smirked deviously as he thought about taking America's clothing off like wrapping paper on a present and was trying so hard not to rip America's clothes off.

Shrugging his shirt off America tugged at the hem of England's shirt, "you too." He spoke, his voice quiet.

England smirked as he sat upright taking his shirt off quickly, tossing it to the floor as he let his hands cup America's face, kissing him hard and pushing him down onto the mattress. America's head rolled back at an odd angle without support from a pillow.

America brought a leg up as he tried to push himself up to the pillows, but as he did he felt England's hardened member press against his thigh. Once fixed against the pillows he reached down and undone England's suit pants.

Feeling his pants become less restrictive England pulled America's belt from its place, undoing America's clothing much faster than America could remove England's. Left with just his boxers on he was quick to grab America by his wrists. "I know you want to reciprocate but not now. Tonight is all about you, Love." England kissed America's knuckles. Once America was completely naked and shivering from the cold England let each of America's hands clench tightly in his own individual hands. He lowered his mouth to America's already leaking member. Starting from the base he licked all the way up to America's head. Illiciting a loud gasp from the younger.

America could feel his stomach in knots, heat rising in his cheeks and his nerves feeling white hot with tension. The one action from England wound him up tightly. He felt like he was going to explode already. "Ah! England!~" he shouted, his hands sweating against England's, toes curling in the sheets before he hooked one leg around England's waist.

England couldn't help but chuckle. "You are so adorable." He said smirking, placing a kiss too America's tip. "I forgot how little it takes for a virgin."

America's eyes were closed but he could hear England smiling and laughing, he could feel him wink as he poked fun of the American. "Shut up!" America squeezed his hands. Reminding England that he could break his hand with just a little more pressure.

"Ah! What the hell!?" England jerked his hands back.

"Don't make fun of me!" America pouted.

England's voice became snide as he rubbed lube into his hands. "And don't you forget who is in control of you right now." England was a bit possessive when it came to his lovers but America might make him worse, especially considering how long he has admired the sunshiny blonde underneath him. Pressing a finger into America's entrance as he made his point ,the young nation arched his back so high and quick off the bed that England lost his hold and fell back.

America cried out in pain and pleasure. He felt confused. "That hurt!"

"Really? Then why'd you moan?" England teased, pushing his finger in again, slowly moving and stretching America's hole.

"Fuck off... oh!~" America grumbled before England pressed into him again, making him moan again.

England was quick to add a second finger and lastly the third. Making America squirm under him.

Returning his free hand to America's cock, he stroked the young blond.

Once England felt that it was time he warned America, making sure the young nation was still wanting to go through with this.

"Gosh, please just do me already!" America spoke irritatedly. He was feeling so good from what England was doing but the constant reassuring was getting a bit on his nerves.

England rolled his eyes as he pulled his fingers out.

America whined. England finally tugged his boxers down, America looked down at England's full member. Swallowing a lump in his throat when he realized how much girth the brit had.

England steadied himself with one hand using the other to keep America still and in place. He started to push in. America groaned in pain, his hands clenching in the sheets under himself.

England didn't stop until he was all the way in. "Ame, I'm in, are you ok?"

America hesitated. "Y-yeah."

"Ok, I'm going to move." England warned. Slowly pulling himself back before thrusting in. America wS tense and tight around him. He moved slowly, allowing America to adjust and get more comfortable with the feeling.

As America began to relax and England resumed to stroke him off. It didn't take the Englishman long to find America's G-spot. "Aw fuck! There! Emgland! Ah~" America practically screamed with pleasure.

Quickening his pace both inside of America and around his cock Ameeica came without warning. With a few more thrusts in America's quivering body England came as well.

Pulling himself out he brought his soiled hand to his lips, tasting America's seed.

"Gross." America huffed from exhaustion.

"Don't say that, you taste good.~" England winked. "You do realize this is normal to do right?"

America stayed silent. Causing the British to laugh even more at him.

"Come, darling. Let's go clean up." England resigned. Not wanting to explain or convince America more on the subject. "You are bleeding and probably going to be hurting so let's hurry and take care of you." England said pulling America to his feet. Leading him to the shower.

After they showered England cleaned the sheets up best he could before retiring to bed. Wrapping his arms around America's waist and pressing his nose into America's fresh clean hair he cuddled up to America's back. "I love you, Ame." England said to the snoring idiot.

#ukus #hetalia ukus #aph america #aph england

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