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fishnets-fingers · 2 years ago

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Six Months - Part Twenty

Summary - Layla desperately needs a vacation and her Aunt and Uncle come to her rescue. So, at twenty two, she packs her bag and jets off to America. Harry took a break from education and is now a full fledged content creator on OnlyFans. At twenty, he makes more money than almost all of his friends. What ensues when these two meet and realise the windows in their rooms face each other? How will paper airplanes bring them closer together?

PAIRING - camboy!harry x indian!oc

a/n - i don’t know what to make of this chapter. there is a lot of the plot that focuses only on the flower braiding ceremony. hope it doesn’t bore any of you guys. as always, like and reblog. feed back is not only appreciated but much welcome. happy reading!

Word Count - 11.3k

Warnings - smut, angst, fluff.

Masterpost (find previous parts here)

“What the fuck is talking her so damn long,” Harry sighs, leaning against the side of his car. It was eight in the morning, and he’s been waiting outside the Sathish’s for over twenty minutes now. He fishes out his phone from the back pocket and taps on her contact name for the third time.

“Hi. So so sorry. Give me like two seconds. I’ll be out. Sorry,” she flusteredly says, and hangs up before he could get a word in.

“I’m gonna kill her,” he mutters.

A few minutes later she comes barrelling through the front door. Phone tucked under her chin, water bottle in one hand, a tote in the other. She was wearing her black faux leather pants with an olive sweater over a white shirt. Her hair was still in a bun, messy, a few stands that have come loose stuck out every which way. She hotfoots over to him in her high heels. The strappy black stilettos click unceremoniously against the white wood of the steps of the front porch; Harry worries, hoping she doesn’t lose her stride. Those two thin tiny black straps around her ankles and her toes, always made him question their ability to keep her feet secure. But she makes it to him.

“Baby, I’ve been waiting for half an -”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” She interrupts, dropping her tote on the passenger seat through his window. He goes to get her phone tucked between her neck and chin. “Thanks,” she says, taking a huge breath in.

“I had a faculty meeting with the professors early this morning. I took it from the cinema room and fell asleep at four in the morning. Sorry. It’s super dark in there and I managed to snooze through the alarms. I woke up to you calling,” she explains with an apologetic smile.

“We can go another day. I’m happy to cuddle and sleep too,” he tells her.

“No. No. I need this today. I’ve been eating nothing but cereal, oats, pancakes, and porridge for breakfast since we came back from New Orleans. I’m sick of it. I need my South Indian tiffin.” Her Winnie the Pooh watch read that it’s twenty to nine.

“Okay,” he chuckles, bending to leave a wet kiss on her forehead. Harry notices the way her nose crinkles when his stubble tickles her. Adorable, he thinks.

“You look cute,” she notes, checking out his outfit. He was wearing a dusty pink corduroy trousers that clung to his things and flared from his knees. A white Chicago Club t-shirt underneath an unbuttoned blue and red trippy acid patterned shirt. His hair was unstyled and fluffy and flopped down his forehead, his Gucci sunglasses pushed to the top. He ditched his black leather loafers and went for his white Vans.

“Thanks. Need to compete with you somehow you know,” he says, tucking a wayward strand of her hair behind her hair.

“I got ready in ten minutes. There’s no thought behind this outfit.” She itches her collarbone, and gasps. “Shit. I left my chain. Start the car and I’ll be right back.”

She books it back into the house, making Harry laugh at the way she scampers yelling through the front door. He opens the passenger door and shifts her tote to the back seat, comfortably settling himself there. He fiddles through his phone, trying to find the Abba playlist that they liked listening to while driving. Money, Money, Money starts playing and Harry drums his fingers against the door. Layla and Vasanth come out shouting and Harry turns down the music to hear them better.

“No! It’ll ruin my outfit,” Layla protests.

“It’s not for a fashion statement. It’s for protection. Can you please put this on?” Vasanth insists, holding up his NASCAR Tide zip up jacket.

“No. I’m already covered. Look!” She thrusts her arms - covered by her full sleeve sweater and shirt - in front of him, to get her point across.

“So one more layer isn’t going to do you any harm. I’m only saying this for your good, kutti.” He insists.

“But, please,” she pleads.

“You end up suffering almost every year. I’m just trying to not let that happen. Come on. You know it hurts for me when I see you suffer.” He holds up the jacket for her to put her arms in easier.

She grumbles in defeat, as she slots her arms through the sleeves of the jacket, turning around to zip it close. “You’ve gotta stop treating me like a child. I’m twenty two you know. I know how to take care of myself,” she reminds him. She hands her gold chain with elephant pendant to him and he clasps it around her neck.

“You’re always my kutti, kutti.” He chuckles, puffing out his cheek for her when he’s done securing the chain. She rolls her eyes and kisses his cheek.

“Have fun you two!” He waves, returning inside the house.

“Why are you in my seat?” Layla asks Harry, when she makes her way over to his Range Rover.

“Oh, so this is your seat now, is it?” He asks, with a smirk.

“Yeah. Go on then,” she shoos him over to the other side.

“Nope.” He grins wider, dimples coming out to taunt her further. “I waited outside for so long. It’s only fair now for you to drive me around,” he replies.

She rolls her eyes, taking a deep breath in. Dazzling a smile, the dimple on her left cheek makes an appearance, furiously batting her eyelashes. “Have I told you how cute you loo-”

“Nope.” He laughs. “You already did and it’s not gonna work.” He tosses his keys, and she catches it out of instinct.

“Today is just not my day,” she grunts, making her way to the driver's side. She gets in and shakes her head at him. “You’ve gotta wait. I thought of brushing my hair in the car.”

She grabs her brush from the tote bag from the backseat, and slowly starts working the knots in her hair. She didn’t have time for anything today. She only managed to wash her face, slap on some sunscreen and put on some gloss on her lips. Honey, Honey starts playing and she reaches to increase the volume, while. She goes back to dragging her paddle brush through the length one last time.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks, when he sees her wince.

“Just got snagged in my piercing,” he mutters, moving the lock of her hair that got tangled in her conch piercing with a newfound gentleness.

“That still hurts huh?”

“Yeah. My helix took eight months to heal. How’s yours?” She asks, motioning to his pierced lobe. She parts the length of her hair into three equal parts and starts loosely braiding it.

“It’s good. Doesn't throb when I sleep on that side anymore.” He replies, hand going to fiddle with his earring.

“That’s nice. I’m sure your lobe is all healed now. It’s been like fifteen days no?”

He nods. “I’m thinking of changing it and putting a hoop in. What do you think?” He asks, seeing her secure an elastic to secure her braid.

“I think someone is copying my style,” she chuckles, going to pinch his cheeks.

“I think someone is insecure that I’m gonna look much hotter.”

“Calm down, earth boy,” she laughs at his ginormous ego. “Ready to go to breakfast?” She asks, turning on the ignition of his Range Rover, and pulling her seat forward, so her feet can reach the pedal.

“Yup.”

She eases the car out of park and eases out of the driveway towards the restaurant. The two sing dramatically to Knowing Me, Knowing You. Harry finds it absolutely adorable when she puts her hand - the one that’s not on the steering wheel - on his thigh, followed by a lascivious wink; something he would do to her when he’s driving. He finds her even more adorable peering - making the same face she does when she puts on her mascara - over the windscreen, trying to see the edge of the bonnet, hoping to not hit the curb as she parks.

////

She wants everything. Everything from the breakfast menu at Annapoorani’s. They were both downtown at Ganesan’s restaurant. Nandhini and Chandru Ganesan started a chain twenty years ago; they were two in Chapel Hill, one in Charlotte, and another in Raleigh.

“Have you two decided?” Chandru asks the two with a warm smile, peering down at the two of them though the rim of his glasses. His hands were clasped behind his back, making his large gut even more pronounced. He was wearing a classic grey safari suit, which Layla thought was quite cute because she has never seen anyone else wear safari suits since her maternal grandfather. She also found his comb over his bald spot extremely hilarious.

“I’ll take a rava dosa please,” Harry says, putting down his menu at the side of the table. He’s never had a semolina dosa before and the picture and his favourite mint chutney sold him.

“Did you just pick it because of the green chutney?” Layla asks with a knowing smile, and he nods.

“Layla kanna?” Chandru turns towards her.

“Umm… I can’t decide uncle.”

“What are you leaning towards?”

“This vegetable oothapam and the poori with potato and channa gravy. But I can’t finish both,” she states.

“How about this, hmm? Since you are a close friend, I’ll bring in a bit of both. Works?” He suggests.

“Prefect.” She clasps her hand in glee. “Thanks, Chandru Uncle.”

“No problem, kanna. How about chaat for a starter?”

“Chaat for breakfast?” She asks the older man.

“Why not.” He smiles.

“Lovey. Harry, what do you want?”

“How about you decide, I haven’t tried them before.”

“Bhel Puri?” She asks, more so to herself. “Can’t go wrong with that. Do you wanna split one?”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay. One Bhel, one rava dosa, half an oothapam and poori?” Chandru Uncle checks.

Once he gets a confirmation, he passes off the bill to one of the waiters and heads over to a navy blue door that says ‘personnel only.’

“So, OnlyFans huh?” Harry says, when they are left alone.

“Yeah.” Layla fiddles with the zipper of her jacket.

“When did you subscribe?”

“I’m not gonna say. Have fun finding me,” she smirks.

“What do you think?” He asks, chipping away at the yellow polish on his nails.

“Why are you nervous, hm?”

“Dunno. Never has someone I care about has seen my OnlyFans…” he trails off.

“Well, I like it. Love it even,” she assures him, reaching over to hold his hands on the table.

His face flushes with colour, a shy smile painting his lips. “I’m gonna need more than that, Lails.”

“I didn’t know you were that creative. I mean, I know you love photography but some of it is skillful. You certainly know your angles around a camera, that’s for sure.”

His smile widens, eyes slowly reaching up to meet hers. “And?”

“And what?” She smirks, not giving in. She knows what exactly he’s fishing for.

“And did the pictures have the desired effect?” He asks, huskily.

Cocky little shit, she thinks.

They get interrupted when she goes to speak. The waiter placed an obscenely large plate of bhel puri in front of them. Layla quickly thanks them while spooning some a heaping spoon into her mouth and does a small jiggle, closing her eyes - savouring that fresh burst of flavour. Harry laughs at her eating some of it as well.

“Yup,” she shyly admits after they’ve finished almost half of their starter.

“Care to elaborate, baby,” he coos.

“I may have gotten myself off once or twice,” she tries sounding, nonchalant as she pushes her braid behind her shoulder.

“Glad I could be of service,” he smirks, spooning some more of the chaat into his mouth, using his other hand to give her a small salute.

“Idiot,” she mutters, shaking his head, using her finger to swipe the stainless steel plate and sucking on the tamarind sauce, revelling in the flavour that she hasn’t experienced in a while.

The waiter comes back with their breakfast order. A crispy rava dosa for Harry that he swore was a foot long and various assortments for Layla. They both thank them and Layla immediately pinches a small piece of the piping hot poori, scoops some potato curry and offers it to Harry.

“More,” he demands, nodding to the oily soft puffy disks on her plate.

“Wanna try it with the channa?”

He nods and Layla feeds him exactly that, making sure to blow on it a few times before popping it into his mouth. He playfully nips at her fingers as he bites down, making her chuckle.

“I like hearing you laugh,” he says as he’s chewing.

“Hard not to, you are quite funny.” She tells him earnestly.

“You’re full of compliments today,” he observes, hand weaving through his soft curls, pushing them away from his eyes.

“As opposed to?”

“As opposed to every other time you jump in to keep me in line,” he shrugs.

“It’s the Tamil breakfast,” she tells him. “I used to make fun of my folks for needing to eat Indian food and not being able to adapt. But I’ve come to realise in these past ten days that I definitely cannot adapt when it comes to breakfast. As much as I love a good waffle and a pancake every now and then I need my savoury in the morning.”

“Hmm. You excited for the art museum?”

“Yup. Can’t wait to go there after this? Still can’t believe I get to see Alphonse Mucha’s work in real life. My sketch books are filled with me copying his art nouveau style. Thank you for getting the tickets. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything, dickhead. I love doing this for you.”

////

“Hold on to that end,” Layla distractedly says, as she rolls the waxy parchment to the other end of the kitchen counter. Her brows furrows in concentration as she tries getting the long horizontal paper, perfectly aligned. But when she tugs on it gently to straighten it out the other end comes rolling over and hits her fingers.

“சித்தப்பா (uncle)!” She yells, smacking her palm on the now butter paper covered marble countertop, demanding his attention.

“What?” He distractedly says, looking up for his phone. “I’m setting up a Zoom link so , அம்மா (mum), அப்பா (dad), அண்ணா (elder brother) and அண்ணி (sister-in-law) can join in.”

“You’re not taking this seriously. Please put the phone down and start helping!” She commands, shaking her palm to soothe the stinging sensation shooting up it.

“Why are we even doing this? We’re doing a buffet, no one will even pay attention to how the countertop is decorated when they are playing up food.”

“I will pay attention to it. I’m doing the decorating and I got an okay from Aunty. So can you just do as I say please!” She grits her teeth.

“Fine. What do you want?”

“Get the floral foam from the garage. It’s soaked in that old paint bucket.”

He mutters something under his breath as he walks away from the kitchen and Layla.

“என்னது அது? (What was that?)” She asks, with a tone that signifies that she’s ready to argue.

”ஒன்றுமில்லை! (Nothing!)”

“Yeah that’s what I thought,” she mutters to herself as she gathers the huge piles of fresh flowers that were delivered from Earl’s for the function. She separates the white wildflowers, dark blue orchids and yellow lilies into smaller piles. She cuts some green foliage so she could weave it into the small floral displays she was planning on having it.

Was she being a bossy pain in the ass? She didn’t think so. She was in charge of décor and if it was one thing she did is bring her vision to life. She sat with Earl for hours trying out different combinations of flowers wanting something memorable and unique because this event meant that to her. She plans to have the flowers placed in similar fashion and leave them at the outer edge of the kitchen counter, where the guests would come to get the food. Leaving multiple arrangements would look like the flowers were growing and flowing from the countertop. She knows it would look great, especially in the pictures.

“Here,” her uncle grunts in exertion, as he places the heavy bucket by her feet.

“Okay.” She bends down to pick a narrow rectangular green foam, dipping it back in to let the sponge drip the excess moisture. “We’re gonna put this right at the edge here.” She gestures to the very edge of the parchment covered marble counter. “Touching each other. I don’t want gaps between these foam blocks. It will look unsightly if there are gaps.” She picks up the flowers from the first pile and starts to secure them into the exact positions she wants. Showing her uncle to cut the end of the stems at an angle, so it’s easily pierced into the foam. She moves things around until she’s satisfied with the result and places it on the left corner of the countertop.

“Now what I want you to do…” she turns to her uncle. “I want you to arrange the flowers exactly like this for all these foam blocks. Got it?”

“Alright. I’ll make sure they look like that,” he points to the finished one, “and put them right next to each other.”

She nods.

“Seems easy. Aren’t you gonna start getting ready? Aunty is already prepping upstairs with Anne.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna head up and get my hair done. Aunty’s gonna curl it and that will definitely take a long time, especially taming this rat’s nest of a hair I have. I’ll come down later and set the nalangu things after. That’s the only thing left to do. I’ll have my phone with me, text me if you need anything.” She says, before disappearing up the stairs.

////

Harry walks into the Sathish’s front door to be hit by scents of sandalwood and jasmine. He sees the living room all arranged for the ritual, couches and coffee table pushed aside. Blankets were laid out in the places they once were. The loveseat was placed close to the wall, facing east, there were two tiny circular tables with doilies in front. Two large oxidised silver lamps stood tall - they came all the way up to his calves - next to the small tables. It looked like elephants balancing a ball that was attached to a lamp - filled with oil and had five lamp wicks, which looked like twisted cotton threads, pointing out from the sides unlit. There were these tiny peacocks on the top of the lamp that had a single blue orchid flower on top, like a decoration. Other silver objects were scattered on the loveseat, one still in the brown cardboard box that arrived from India.

“Look at me dead in the eyes and tell me you did not half ass this!” Layla screeches, from the kitchen.

“Layla, language! மரியாதை எங்கே (where’s the respect)?” An older woman scolds.

Harry walks towards the voices to find Vasanth and Layla facing each other. Vasanth looking annoyed, the blue gel patches under his eyes - which Harry has no doubt was Layla’s doing - moving as he rolls his eyes. A phone was perched up on the table and Harry could make out four people on the screen and quickly deciphers that they were Layla’s grandparents and parents. Layla is in her kimono robe, eye makeup done, rollers secured on her head, arms crossed across her chest as she scowls at the floral arrangement on the counter.

“How am I supposed to know, kutti?” Vasanth asks.

“I thought it was common sense to pluck out the weird looking petals, so the flowers look extra fresh.”

“யார் அது (who’s that)?” The older male from the screen asks, noticing Harry.

“Hi!” Layla beams at him. He looked svelte and sophisticated in his black tux. His white shirt was unbuttoned halfway, he had a messy black tie tucked underneath his shirt for some odd reason but it worked. The black Gucci boots added on to his frame and the way his jacket was fastened around his waist, by a single button, really showcased how narrow it was. His stubble was gone, and hair - trimmed - was meticulously styled to a point where his curls seem to have vanished. Rings decorated almost every finger of his, as they hold on to his expensive camera. Layla frowns when her eyes land on his clear nails.

Vasanth quickly notices the family staring at Layla and quickly steps in to serve as a distraction. “Oh. That’s our neighbour’s son. He’s offered to take pictures tonight.”

“That’s very kind of him,” her grandmother says, switching to English to accommodate Harry.

“பாட்டி, தாத்தா, அப்பா, அம்மா (grandmum, granddad, dad, mum) this is Harry. He’s my uh-“ she stops, cheeks heating up, breath hitching when she realises that she was gonna say the word boyfriend.

“Hello. It’s nice to meet all of you. Virtually at least. I’m Harry. You must be Layla’s folks. She’s been a blast to hang out with. We’ve become good friends over the months.” He introduces himself.

The four stare at him and then back to Layla. “எங்களுக்கு ஒன்றும் புரியவில்லை (we didn’t understand a thing), Layla.” Her granddad says.

“Translate,” her father states. “We’re sorry Harry. You talk differently from us,” he tells Harry.

“That’s no problem, sir.” He smiles politely.

“He said உங்களை சந்தித்ததில் மகிழ்ச்சி in FaceTime. He also said I’m fun to hang around with and that we’ve become friends,” Layla translates for them. Harry notices a switch in the way she talks. It’s slower, her accent is much more pronounced - more Tamil. And it’s almost nonexistent when she talks to him. He’s seen her switch her accents around him and Nandhini and Chandru far too many times, he’s no longer impressed by the way she’s a chameleon - unconsciously - in the way that she speaks when she’s around certain people.

“போய் உடுத்திக்கொள் (go put on some proper clothes), Layla.” Her mother says in a low voice. “நீ ஒரு பையனின் முன் இப்படித்தான் நின்று இருப்பை (is this how you stand in front of a boy),” her mother tells her off.

“Okay okay. I just need to put the silver things properly and I’m going upstairs to get ready. It’s why I called you,” she tells them, grabbing on to the phone and making her way to the formal living room.

If only she knew that he’s seen me in much less, she thinks, smirking.

“Pro tip,” Vasanth tells Harry. “Stay away from her till the ceremony ends. She’s psychotic.”

“Hey! I heard that!” Layla calls from the living room.

“I wanted you too!” Vasanth shouts back.

“Pain in my ass,” he mutters, making Harry smile.

“Sometimes you two act like brother and sister,” he comments.

“I’m so glad that I don’t have a sister. I don’t know how you put up with her for so long. How does she not drive you up the wall?

“Anyways, never mind.” Vasanth continues. “Feel free to hang and take some pictures here. Food will be here in a few. I’m gonna get ready in Layla’s room before she’s done arranging. You could start taking pictures of Abi as she’s getting ready.”

“I’ll do just that. I want a couple of shots of the two of you before the ceremony starts. We do that first and I’ll come down.”

The two head upstairs, past Layla talking to her family on FaceTime holding up the silver cups.

“Right or left?”

“Left.” Her grandmum tells her.

She places a silver plate, and puts three small cups on it. “So, sandalwood paste, vermilion and rice in the cups?”

“Yeah. Pluck off some flower petals and mix it in the rice.”

“Wait.” She says. She arranges everything exactly like her grandmum said. She gets the sachet of the sandalwood paste and squeezes it into the first cup. She rifles through the cardboard box and gets the packet of vermilion powder and empties it out in the next bowl. She runs to the kitchen with the third bowl, fills it with rice three fourths of the way, adds a pinch of turmeric and mixes it around with her fingers, so the grains are stained a deep yellow. She heads over and shows it, to her phone screen, to her grandmother. “Is this enough?”

“Yes. You can always get more, if you want,” she replies.

“How many people are coming?” Her mum asks.

“Twenty five, I think. At least that’s how many people I ordered food for.”

She turns around looking for flowers, not wanting to go back to the kitchen again. She picks out the orchids that were on top of the swans on the lamp and tears them into small pieces before adding it into the rice.

“Don’t be so lazy!” Her mother scolds.

“Don’t scold her! There could be guests around, what will they think,” her father directs it to her mother.

“Kutti, விளக்கில் பூ இருக்க வேண்டும் (there needs to be a single flower on the lamp at least),” her grandad adds, much softer.

“I’ll get it later and do it before I light it up. I need to get ready, தாத்தா (grandad).” She says, unscrewing the stem of the rose water sprinkler and filling the voluminous bottom with rose water. She screws on the stem and quickly checks if the water is leaking by tilting it around.

“That’s all, right?”

“ஆரத்தி தட்டு (aarti plate), kutti,” her grandmum reminds her.

She quickly reaches for the silver aarti plate from the loveseat. She quickly pours the remainder of the rose water from the small plastic bottle into this deep dish plate. She picks up some vermilion and mixes it in the water until it turns a bright red colour. She puts this plate carefully on the right.

“I’m going to get ready now,” she says, wiping her red and yellow stained fingers into the kitchen towel.

“Layla, வளைய��்!” Her mum reminds her.

“Oh shit, yes,” she reaches over and opens up a plastic box.

“Don’t swear!” They all say collectively.

She rolls her eyes as she arranges the orange and green glass bangles in the remaining space on the silver plate on the left, next to the three bowls and the sprinkler.

“Okay. I’m going to go get ready. Click on the Zoom link and join in about an hour and a half, okay? You all will be there right?”

“Yes.” Her dad chuckles. She was ever the anxious one. “Tell your friend to take solo pictures and send it over.”

“Why?”

“We need a recent picture of you in a saree, so we can start sending it around with your horoscope.” Her mum says.

“No,” she firmly says, shaking her head, heart starting to race. “You promised I get to study.”

“No one’s going to get you married tomorrow. It will take years to find a good match. We don’t even know if you’ll get into a PhD program,” her mother tells her.

“Gee, thanks for your vote of confidence, அம்மா (mum),” she hisses, feeling the heat seeping out of her body, nostrils flaring out in anger.

“Okay. Okay. Calm down, kutti. We obviously want you to get your PhD. We will be very proud when you do get that doctorate,” her grandmother steps in while the two men quitely stare at the women.

“But if we do get a great match, you will need to quit the program. It is five years long and you’ll be twenty eight when you’ll be don-“

“I need to get ready and I need to get rid of the plastic and the boxes. I don’t have time for this now.” Layla quickly presses on the red button, sliding on the button on the side of her phone to effectively silence it and tosses it on the loveseat.

////

Four sharp knocks reverberates through the room, as Layla was fixing the plastic bra strap untwisting it near her shoulder. She thought she would just wear her white spaghetti strap ribbed crop top, but her boobs just wouldn’t work. Sometimes she wishes she could just make her boobs disappear. She did like the outfit though, she didn’t really plan for this ceremony when she was packing for her holiday. So she borrowed a chiffon dusty rose saree from her aunt and paired it with one of her crop tops, as her aunt’s blouse would not fit her. She was quite proud of the way she draped it, creating a perfect silhouette. Not bad for someone who was draping on her own for the second time; although her mermaid saree shapewear and an ungodly amount of safety pins helped. It looked traditional but also had her own spin on it. Her makeup was on point, but she did go in a bit heavy handed with the eyebrow pencil and she didn’t have the time to wipe it off and do it again.

“Come in,” she shouts out over the music that was playing through the speakers.

Harry steps into the room greeted loudly with My Chemical Romance’s Planetary (GO!).

“We’re waiting for you to take some pictures,” he walks in further towards the vanity to find her sitting on the floor, in front of the mirror, sticking a small round bindi on her forehead.

“Wow, baby,” he stops, stunned, eyes fixed on the reflection in the mirror.

“What? It’s the eyebrows, right? I knew it was too boxy,” she mutters, moving her face closer to the mirror.

“No no. You look - wow - I’ve just never seen you in a saree before and fuck - how did I get so lucky, eh?”

“Oh gosh,” she brushes it off, face heating up in response to his compliment. She stands up, albeit with some trouble, and clutching onto Harry’s hand for support. As elegant as a saree looks, they were hard for Layla to move around in. “Give me a second.” She quickly hurries to her bedside table and clasps on her elephant chain and her Winne the Pooh watch. The watch didn’t go with the outfit but it was a part of her. “Ther. All done.” She says slipping in her heels.

Harry bends down to place a kiss to her before she backs away.

“What?” He whines.

“I spent thirty minutes putting on makeup. No way are you gonna come close,” she tells him.

“Come on. I didn’t even get a kiss hello.”

“Fine. Kiss me but not anywhere near my face.”

He groans theatrically, but bends down to seize the opportunity.

“Nah, not my neck either,” she says.

He settles giving her wet kisses right below her collarbone, making her hum as her body sings.

“That feels nice,” she admits.

“I can tell.” She can feel him smirking against her skin, one hand coming to weave her fingers with his.

“Hey do me a favour yeah,” Harry asks.

“Yeah. Of course.”

“I don’t really care but I don’t want you to be embarrassed in front of everyone. Can you um, put makeup on my hickey?” He moves his unbuttoned shirt to the side to reveal a dull pink hickey - he was right, it would be on display every time he moved his arms and with a camera in hand it was hard not to do so. “I tried doing the same thing you taught me, exactly like how I applied foundation on my face but it doesn’t properly cover anything up here.”

“Yeah, you just need to colour correct. Did you bring your foundation?”

He pulls out his Gucci foundation from the inside of his coat pocket and hands it over to her. Layla pats on the bed asking Harry to sit down and when he does she goes on to grab her colour correcting palette and a small makeup sponge.

Harry sees her, use the pad of her ring finger, rubbing circles on the green cream. She then presses it right on the pale pink bruise that she managed to give him right in the valley of his neck and shoulder. She then shakes the foundation bottle and takes a small dollop on the back of her hand and picks it up with the egg shaped sponge and stamps it on top of the green.

“How did you do that?” He asks, looking at the spot in the mirror, astonished to see the bruise gone, just the makeup blended in to look like skin. “Sorcery.”

Layla chuckles. “It’s basic colour theory, earth boy. Green and red are opposing colours, so you use green to neutralise the red.”

“Still! Proper sorcery.” After he fixes up his clothes, his hands come to circle around her pudgy hips.

“You’re such an idiot sometimes, you know,” she coos, with a smile. She caresses his freshly shaven soft cheek, with the back of her fingers, missing the prickly stubble.

“I’d be an idiot if I didn't take a picture of you right this second. Now come on, lay down on the bed.” He tells her.

“Babe, we can do it later. I need to be there to greet -“

“Nope. Nope. Sit your ass down. Mum’s gone to drive Earl over. Vasanth and Abi are FaceTiming Abi’s parents. We’ve got time.”

Layla sighs and she lies down on her white comforter. Harry then positions her face and her hands, tucking her saree, and pulls her hair gently to the right. “Don’t move,” he orders, quickly moving to get the flowers from a vase on top of the dresser - twisting the blooms from the stem. He got her a bouquet from Earl’s two days ago, the flowers were a bit dull but it didn’t matter. He carefully arranged them in her hair, and around the bed and he takes the biggest pale pink peony and tucks it behind her left ear, being very mindful to not irritate her healing conch piercing.

He straddles her upper thighs , knees on both sides of her, holding his camera from above and he looks at his sweet girl through the viewfinder, snapping picture after picture.

“I want some with you,” she says, tugging on the lapels of his jacket, to bring him closer to her.

He chuckles. “Want this sex on a stick right next to you to show off, huh?”

“Oh shut up, you goober,” she smiles, as he lies down next to her.

“Please! I saw the way you were undressing me with your eyes when you were on your call with your family.”

“I wasn’t undressing you with my eyes,” she denies, but the dimple on her left cheek gives her away.

“Whatever you say, dickhead.” He says, raising the camera up.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Thought you didn’t want to ruin your makeup,” she says cockily, arching up an eyebrow.

“I’m allowed to change my mind, Har.” She says, turning to her side, hand coming to chip the side of his jaw - pulling his face to hers, stitching their lips together in a sweet lazy kiss.

He presses down on the shutter, freezing that moment in time, a moment where their fondness for each other was palpable from the way their eyes looked drunk on each other, dimples signalling the mirth that filled the fibre of their being.

////

The ceremony is in full force. House packed with guests, friends, colleagues, neighbours, and their families and kids all under one roof, making the house feel lively as peels of laughter came from kids, who were chasing through the rooms. The men stood in groups chatting away looking at the women performing the nalangu for Vasanth and Abi. Their families in India were on Zoom and an iPad was propped in a strategic corner, where they would be able to see everything. Harry was busy taking pictures of everything, he even managed to take a few candids of guests - laughing, mid conversation, eating something, and hugging. His favourite ones were of Layla talking to the iPad - frustration evident on her face as she explained how to mirror their screens to the TVs, so the live feed display would be much easier to look at. The other one is of Earl and his mum, sitting together side by side, laughing at Vasanth and Layla bickering before the guests had come in.

Nandhini Aunty had explained the rituals to everyone. Turns out every single Tamil family did things differently, something to do with their caste. She went through the process of the nalangu, and why bangles were very important - to help stimulate the baby in the womb with audio, the sound of bangles tinkling against each other. Everyone commented over how gorgeous Abi looks with her orange silk saree that she paired with a floral beaded blouse and was adorned in antique gold ornaments decorating her ears, forehead, neck, hands and waist. Her hair was in a long braid wrapped around with flowers and bedazzled with more jewellery. Vasanth sat next to her, on the loveseat, in a matching orange silk shirt and his white silk veshti. Anne couldn’t help but join in the conversation with others as they guessed the gender of the baby based on Abi’s tummy position, even if the expecting couple did tell them that there would be a gender reveal after the ceremony was over.

“How many was that, kanna?” Nandhini Aunty asks.

“I don’t know. Should I have kept track of how many people did the nalangu?” Layla says, with her eyes wide.

“Eight.” Abi said.

“We need one more person to do it. Cannot be an even number,” Nandhini Aunty states, looking around the room for women who were missed out.

“Layla you do it. You’re old enough,” her grandmother's voice echoes through the iPad.

“Really?” She asks, the corners of her lips twitching up in a smile.

“Yes, kanna. பாட்டி (grandmum) is right. Go ahead. You’ll make it nine and that’s a good number to end on.” Nandhini Aunty says.

“No no.” Vasanth says. “Look at the way she’s smiling. She’s gonna do the thing she did the last time. அம்மா (mum) come on,” he pleads to his mother through the iPad, looking at the sinister smile on Layla’s face as she leaves Harry’s side - she hovered around him the whole time at a respectable distance not wanting to give off any ideas, very cognisant of the fact that her parents were watching - and comes closer to the two of them.

“Her blessing is also important, Vasanth,” his mother scolds him.

“Yeah. You tell him பாட்டி (grandmum),” Layla, hypes her up. Sticking her tongue out at him, tucking the draped end of the saree, in her hip, so it doesn’t catch on fire from the lit silver lamps.

Layla has a wide grin as picks up the rose water sprinkles and shakes, so it drizzles on Abi and Vasanth. Her smile only becomes more sinister, as she eyes at her uncle as she dips the tips of her fingers into the sandalwood paste, she daintily applies it on Abi’s sandalwood smeared cheeks and moves down to do the same to the tops of her forearm. She then picks up some vermilion with her pointer finger and dots it on her forehead. She then picks up four bangles and gently pushes two on each arm of her Aunt, using some moisturiser, so it slips in place. She moves on picking up the turmeric stained rice and flowers and showers it on her head.

“Now the same for your uncle too,” Nandhini Aunty reminds her.

She moves closer to Vasanth, who’s shaking his head as she scoops all the remaining sandalwood paste from the silver bowl, giggling. She smears the woody smelling goop onto his cheeks, smearing it around all over his face, making the room laugh. She does the same to his forearms, spearing a clumpy mess of sandalwood. She then moves on to the vermilion, dotting a small spot on his forehead that is now a pale yellow. She then moves over and throws some rice and flowers on his head, as Abi cackles along with everyone in the room.

“That’s for making me wait with everyone else for the baby’s gender,” she says, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Hey! She kept it from you too!” He points to his wife in an accusatory tone.

“Yeah. But you kept pissing me off the whole day. Aunty didn’t and she looks cute. Can’t say the same for you.”

“Sleep with an eye open, kutti.” He threatens, reaching for a wet wipe Anne hands over to him to wipe off the excess paste from his face.

////

The ceremony was over and the expecting couple announced the baby’s gender and name, making some gasp and others go ‘I knew it.’ Layla’s family and Abi’s parents cried on Zoom knowing their little bundle of joy now has a name. People were now spread all over the house chatting away and eating all the food.

Layla fills up two plates of food from the buffet and heads over to the stairs, where Harry was sat. She pulled him aside during the ceremony, and asked him if they could eat alone and who was he to turn her down. It was traditional to have a variety of assorted rice for the event and both their plates had small servings of coconut rice, raw mango rice, coriander and mint rice, lemon rice, tamarind rice, curd rice, tomato rice, carrot rice and sweetened rice. Layla picked her favourite thayir vadai as the starter, it was sour and the hints of the chaat masala always hit her spot. Harry declined the starter as he does not eat cow milk - the only exception is when Layla makes the occasional mango laasi and her fruit loaded curd rice. She hands him a plate of food with the much larger portion and the one without the curd rice, and sits down on the step on the opposite side.

“Hey. Sorry, I didn’t really interact with you at all. I really didn’t want my parents grilling me,” she says, picking up a pomegranate seed from the curd rice and popping it into the mouth, relishing the way juicy sweetness detonates on her tongue.

Harry digs into the coconut rice first, his favourite. “I figured. It was nice to meet them. Even if it was brief. Didn’t really think I get to. You look so much like your mum!”

She rolls her eyes. “If I had a penny every time someone said that. I actually resemble her little sister more than her; it’s uncanny.” She unlocks her phone and scrolls through her gallery to find a picture of her Aunt. “Look.”

“Shit,” he says, looking at her. If he thought Layla looked like her mother, she was a carbon copy of her Aunt. The same chin, eyes, forehead, lips, their only difference was their noses but not by much - Layla’s was a little longer and her cheeks more fuller.

“Yeah.” She chuckles. “It freaked my maternal grandparents out. They said it was like watching my Aunty grow up again, but my granddad always told me my cheeks were more pinchable than hers, and that I had alien ears.” She giggles. “My lobes are attached, literally no one in my family does,” she explains.

“You are a walking cornucopia of recessive genes,” he laughs with her.

“Tell me about it.”

They eat in ease a blanket of silence that they both found enjoyable. Both basking in each other’s company after three hours of interacting with everyone else. Dhruv, Ashwin plops down on the staircase unceremoniously next to them, each with a bowl of thayir vadai. “Hey guys,” they both chirp.

“Sorry, we needed a break from the oldies,” Dhruv says.

“I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Ashwin.” He waves to Harry, not wanting to shake his hand as Harry’s using his to eat.

“Hey. I’m Harry.” He smiles, warmly.

“I’m Dhruv. Nice to meet you, man. My sister will also join us in a few. She’s changing the baby.”

“Hey, Layla, you ready to beat our highscore?” Dhruv asks.

“High score?” Harry looks at her confused, clearly out of the loop.

“Oh, um, Ashwin, Pooja, Prasath, Dhruv and I went for a movie in Raleigh the day before. Dhruv and Ashwin came over to play Overcooked after,” she fills him in.

“We made quite the team,” Ashwin says with a sweet smile directed at Layla, in a tone that irked Harry.

“Why wasn’t I invited?” He asks Layla, the corners of his mouth turning downwards.

“Oh, sorry, babe. You were with Earl that day, helping him with the weeds. Didn’t wanna disturb you.” She tells him, squeezing his left hand as an apology.

“We should do it again. Watch another Tamil movie again. It was so much fun,” Dhruv says.

“We shou-” Layla gets interrupted by Dhruv’s sister, Pooja.

Pooja. Layla’s heart immediately starts hammering. The first time she saw her was when they were headed to the theatre, she felt herself becoming extremely flustered. She’s never come across a woman in real life who managed to catch her attention like that. She was drop dead gorgeous. Layla can’t help but let her eyes rake through her standing figure, she had a thick mane of curly raven hair, hooked nose, streamlined eyes that were lined with a thick ring of kaajal, full lips, her cheeks had a rosy hue to them no matter what accentuating her pitted scars that were a remnants of her acne - she often found herself tearing her eyes away from Pooja’s cheeks. Her shoulders were broad and her hips narrow, pudges around her tummy and hips, and legs that were long and slender. She was a bharatanatyam dancer, so naturally she was expressive and animated. The brief conversations she had with Layla were livey, and loquacious.

“Ash, you forgot this,” she says, handing him a small white box - that was wrapped in a baby pink satin ribbon - from the diaper bag.

“Thanks.” Ashwin says, face heating up, handing Layla the box.

“For me?” She asks, surprised.

“Yeah. You mentioned that you loved elephants, and I couldn’t help but think about you when we went to the pottery shop.”

“No, I shouldn’t,” Layla says, hesitantly.

“I insist, Lails.” Ashwin thrusts the box on her lap.

“We did the wine and paint thing, yesterday, at the studio downtown,” Dhruv tells her.

“Oh, Layla and I went there on a date,” Harry says, moving closer to her, wrapping his free arm around her.

“We had so much fun! I made Harry a ring dish and he still uses it,” she says, struggling to open the box with one hand, oblivious to her boyfriend’s bristling energy next to her in response to Ashwnin using Layla’s nickname.

“Oh my god! Harry! Look! It’s perfect!” She squeals, showing him two miniature ceramic elephants in a bed of cotton - one ash in colour and the other a darker blue green with light pink at the ears.

“Thank you!” She says, going to hug Ashwin. He returns the hug awkwardly.

She stands up to go get dessert for everyone and comes back with small ramekins filled with tender coconut pudding topped with an exorbitant amount of sliced almonds and pistachios. They each take one.

“Oh, Ashwin, that one’s for Harry,” she informs, handing him another ramekin.

“What’s so special about it?” He chuckles, passing it to Harry.

“It’s all from Chandru Uncle’s restaurant, right?” Pooja asks.

“All of ours is, his isn’t.” She tells them, going back to sit next to him, wrapping her arm around his waist when Harry immediately throws his hand over her shoulder.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Harry’s doesn’t consume a lot of cow milk, so I made one from him with oat milk.” She says.

“Lactose intolerance?” Dhruv asks.

“Most white people are,” Ashwin mocks and it makes Harry want to punch him.

“That’s not very nice. He does so for environmental reasons,” Layla tells them. “I hope you like it. I don’t know if it’ll taste the same,” she tells Harry.

A blush creeps across his face and neck, the tip of his ears turning hot. “Thank you, baby.” He says taken back, kissing her cheek, brushing a stray stand away from her neck. He did not expect her to make something just for him, especially with all the other things she had on her plate today. It warmed his heart.

////

“So, a baby girl, huh?” Earl asks.

Harry, Earl, Anne were sitting on the kitchen island, while Vasanth was washing up the silver utensils that his mother shipped from Chennai. Everyone had made their way home, quietness creeping into the walls that were bouncing off exuberance a few minutes ago. Abi and Layla were in the family room, both with their feet up on the coffee table. Layla on the phone with her cousin trying to reboot her computer; following his instructions to try and reinstall windows again to her laptop that abruptly died on her when she was editing her and Harry’s paper with the suggestions from the journal editing theme. Abi was talking to her parents about the birthing and lactation classes she signed up for with Vasanth, and working out the dates they were coming over to help her along with the birth.

“Yeah. We were hoping for a girl too,” he smiles, as he uses a rag to polish up the silver as per his mum’s instructions.

“I love her name. Laya. It’s so precious.” Anne gushes.

Harry smiles, remembering Layla’s face when they told her that the baby’s name was inspired by her. Instead of gasping and being elated, she just stood there quiet, eyes cast on the floor - uncomfortable having all the attention on her, unable to process that she’s being honoured. Very Layla. All he wanted to do was to pull her warmth in and soothingly encompass her against his chest.

“Still can’t believe you two named her after Layla,” Harry says, clicking around in his MacBook as he exports the pictures from his SSD, so he could edit.

“We always knew that we wanted to do that. She is her big sister after all. Honesty, if Laya turns out to be half the person Layla is, it’s a job well done for us,” he tells them earnestly.

“So all ready to be a father, huh?” Earl asks.

“I mean, I kinda already am,” he tells them, cocking his head in the direction of Layla. “I’ve never been just an uncle, you know. சித்தப்பா literally translates to small father. Her dad had to move to Delhi for work when she turned two. He was there for like three years. I was there for almost everything. Potty training, diaper changes, first wipeout on her bicycle with training wheels, bedtime stories, tantrums, dropping her off at school, teaching her how to golf, taking her to the zoo, and the planetarium on the weekends. She was such a well behaved extroverted kid growing up but she had this need for speed,” he chuckles before continuing. “She would sit on the motorbike or open up the sunroof, stick her head out of the car and demand to go faster and faster. She was so carefree. I sucked when I had to leave her to the US. She would act all grown up and mature so she wouldn't hurt my feelings but she’d cry to my mum every other day, convincing her to stop me from moving. When I came back three years later, she had completely changed. She was quiet, anxious, flighty, and just lost the child in her - like she was a husk of the Layla I knew…” He trails off.

“Sorry.” He shakes his head. “To answer your question Earl, I feel every bit like a father. I feel very prepared but I also know it will be a complete experience. I’m excited. Abi is too. She cried when the doctor told us. She’s always wanted a little girl.”

Vasanth’s phone chimes and he calls out, “Layla!”

“என்ன (What)?!?”

“People from Chandru Uncle’s restaurant have come in to pick up the buffet utensils.”

“Okay.”

“I thought you wanted to be the one to return it back to them,” he clarifies.

“I did. Give me a minute.”

“Now! A minute is never really a minute with you. They’re waiting out in the cold, Layla!”

“Okay. Okay. I’m going now,” she groans, pushing her laptop on the couch cushion, and walking into the kitchen to pick up the buffet food containers and lugging them to the front door.

“Do you want any help?” Harry asks.

“No, that's alright. Only got five more. Thanks.” She smiles, picking two more of them and making her way to the foyer.

“Harry,” Anne prods.

“I offered. She’s got this mum,” he says, fiddling around with the colours of the picture of Layla on her bed in Lightroom.

“I didn’t raise a degenerate. You should do it without asking, love.”

He sighs, pushing himself off the stool. He would have done that but he really wanted to finish editing all of Layla’s pictures, to surprise her tonight. He picks up the rest of the stainless steel utensils and heads over to the foyer where Layla was talking to three people, one of whom he recognised was their waiter from the breakfast date.

“Thank you so much! The food was delicious. Everyone loved it. That புளியோதரை (tamarind rice) was to die for! I know you all work behind the scenes but you really made the event really special. It means a lot to me and Aunty and Uncle. I told Chandru Uncle that I’ll swing by the restaurant in a few days to thank the chef and the cook. Phenomenal jobs. Please send them my appreciation until then.” She smiles.

A middle aged man speaks up, with a smile stretched across his face, deep creases evident on his cheeks that curve along the curve of his lips. “நான் பதினைந்து வருடங்களாக இந்த வேலையில் இருக்கிறேன். மக்கள் பொதுவாக என்னை கவனிக்க மாட்டார்கள். யாரும் வந்து எங்களுக்கு தனிப்பட்ட முறையில் நன்றி சொன்னதில்லை.( I have been working in this job for fifteen years now. People usually don't pay attention to me and my colleagues. Never have I had someone come and thank us personally. It means a lot.) God bless you, ma,” he says.

Although Harry doesn't know the language, he can decipher what he’s conveying by the embarrassed covers his girlfriend’s face.

////

“You know what would be perfect with this?” Layla asks Harry.

It was much later at night, she had bought the five remaining of his famous raspberry thumbprint cheesecake cookies. It was the easiest and quickest recipe he’d learnt at the bakery he worked at. He baked it for her yesterday, he really wanted to make it with fig preserve - her favourite - but she was too demanding and hungry for him to make a quick run to the store.

“A kiss for the baker?”

“Funny.” She says, biting into the ice cold cookie, dusting the crumbs off her fingers over the baby blue ceramic bowl. “Isn’t the phrase actually kiss the cook?”

“What’s the difference?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “But I do know that I want a glass of milk before I wipe off my makeup and head to bed.” She turns over and directs the sweetest smile to him.

“Fine. I’m going,” he chuckles, popping the last cookie into his mouth, wiping his fingers on his suit trousers as he makes his way out of the room with the empty bowl.

She quickly makes her way to the bathroom to remove the safety pins from her saree. She’d pinned some wacky places together to compensate for her inexperienced draping. She examines her face in the mirror, the light beaming off the grease on her face makes her huff out frustratedly. She scoops out the yellow cleansing balm from an aluminium jar to melt off her makeup. She squirts a small dollop of face wash onto her fingertips and starts lathering up her face, and washes it off with water. She pats her face dry with a towel and walks to find Harry on her bed, swiping through the touchpad of his laptop; a big glass of milk on her nightstand. She chugs it down in a very unladylike fashion and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand before crawling on the bed.

“What are you doing, hmm?”

“Going through pictures from the ceremony. I think I’m gonna print it out and make a photo book for Vasanth and Abi.”

“Harry, you don’t have to do that. You taking pictures today was a great hel-“

“But I want to. Imagine how cute it would be for little Laya to look at once she’s older,” he informs, smiling at the thought.

“It’s still weird.” She chuckles.

“What? Her name?”

“Hmm. Plenty weird.”

“Hey, if someone named a baby after me I’d be on cloud nine.”

“I’m sure! It’ll feed right into your narcissism. Imagine if Aunty and Uncle named her after you. Something stupid like Harriet. Yuck!”

“Hey! I think Harriet is a great sounding name for a baby,” he defends.

“Yeah. Great sounding name to get bullied in school.”

He laughs, carefree and boyishly, crinkles by the corner of his eyes, gums peeking out from under his lips and dimples etching onto the curve of his cheeks.

“How is that you manage to insult me every time before we have sex?”

“How are you so sure we’re gonna have sex?” She arches her brows.

“Oh please. You’re still in your saree. Waiting for me to take it off.”

“I’m not waiting! I just wanted to um - I wanted you to take a few more pictures of me.”

“Really?”

“Yup.” She holds her head up high.

“Didn’t you send a paper plane asking me to come back here to sleep knowing full well I went home to put the lightbox and camera away?” He smirks.

“I uh… I forgot. Go get it! Now!” She insists, trying hard not to smile to maintain her imperious façade.

“Please. Just admit that you want me! You’ve been salivating over me ever since I walked in!” He exclaims, trying to break her, closing his laptop and putting it on the floor.

“I may have spared a glance at your direction once or twice,” she haughtily says, tossing her curls behind her shoulder.

“And what about when you followed my ass around with your eyes, when I squatted to get a picture of Abi and Vasanth on the loveseat. Or did I imagine that?”

She looks down at her duvet, face heating up, a shy smile tugging the corners of her lips. “Didn’t know you were paying attention to me…”

“I always pay attention to you.” He mumbles, hand coming to cup her cheek. “Now come on, are you going to kiss the cook who made you cookies and bought you a glass of milk?”

She moves closer to him, lips against his ear, forehead pressing against his temple and mutters, “More like kiss this cock.” She leaves a wet kiss on the spot right below his ear, smiling when he draws in a sharp breath. “And seeing how you’re still in your tux tells me that it’s sole purpose of you leaving it on was to seduce me.”

“Now that we’ve both cracked each other’s game, don’t you think it’s time to take off our clothes?”

“Sounds like a great plan to me.”

They both shuffle out of bed and Harry reaches forward to tug Layla’s saree off. She quickly takes off the crop top, unhooks her bra and tosses it on the floor. Harry is busy unwrapping her skirt like draping that was tucked into the space between her hip and her skirt.

“Jesus, how long is this thing?” He says exasperatedly, trying to unwind the fabric, and when he gets to the end, he tug it off, leaving her only in her black shapewear and her heels. He hooks his thumb into the spandex band of her skirt, wiggling it off from her body - along with her panties - as he trails wet kisses down her throat.

Layla pushes off the outrageously expensive suit jacket after she unfastens the single button of his suit jacket. Fingers quickly working to unbutton his shirt, she kisses his chest after prying open a button, fingers coming to tease his nipples.

“Baby, please,” he whines loudly.

“Shh! My room isn’t soundproof like yours,” she scolds him, hand coming to clamp on his mouth, feeling a warm flush of embarrassment wash over her body at the idea of her uncle and aunty hearing it.

He nods, and she removes her palm. Stepping out of the blush coloured pool of chiffon fabric, tripping when the fabric gets caught in her heel, Harry comes to steady her, gipping her forearms tightly.

“Leave your stilettos on,” he says. “I reckon they’d look pretty hanging off my shoulders.”

Layla chuckles, leaving her heels on, dropping to her knees and quickly unzipping his pants. Heat pools at the bottom of her belly, as she sees his growing bulge strain against the fabric, straining for some space. She pulls down his pants and his briefs to his knees, wasting no time before she grabbing on his length and mouthing at the tip.

He grunts, hands coming to bury in her hair, eyes screwing shut as she licks a flat stripe up the underside of his length, thumb messily spreading the precome around his head. She looks up at him with bleary eyes, as she swirls his tongue around him, moaning - a sound that shoots right up his spine, toes curling. She squeezes his thigh and he slowly starts moving his hips to and fro, thumb drawing circles on her cheek.

“Shit, so so good, sweet girl.”

She gags around him as he drives in deeper and he looks down to check on her. Once she gives him a thumbs up, he moves again, looking down at the way she’s slobbering over him. Desire tingles through his body, as he lets his body take over moving in and out slowly and he hits a spot at the back of her head. Layla gags, flinching at the feeling and he immediately pulls off, before she can pinch his thigh to stop.

“Fuck, you okay? Sorry.” He gets to his knees, eyes examining, his hand coming to wipe the mix of drool and his precome down her chin.

“Yeah. It just tickled.” She tells him, blinking back the tears as she lets out a cough.

“Come on up on the bed,” he says, licking his lips, she sits down at the end. He kicks off his trousers and his hands splays across her thighs, coming to part her knees, as he lowers himself.

“As much as I love when you go down on me, babe, I really want you to fuck me.” she mumbles, hands coming to twist in his hair, pulling him up.

She pulls his face to hers, and kisses him. Biting down on his bottom lip, tasting the raspberry from earlier, as he whimpers into her mouth. Harry lays on top of her - relishing warmth and the way her breasts were pressed up against him, tongue licking into her, tasting the honey he mixed in with the milk. Layla grunts when he slips his fingers inside her, hands coming to tug at his trimmed locks.

“It’s too short,” she complains, frowning at the fact that she can’t grab at it like she used to.

“Well, I had to cut it! It was becoming too shaggy.” He defends himself.

She jolts in pleasure, when his thumb comes to draw tight circles on her clitoral hood, as his fingers curl up against her front wall.

“Stop moving,” he mumbles into her panting mouth, making a relentless come hither motion against her sweet spot.

“Make me.” She challenges squirming against him.

He quickly removes his digits and licks them clean, moving to get a condom from her bedside drawer. He makes quick work of tearing open the foil and rolling it down his length. He crawls over to her, grabbing a pillow and wedging it under her bum, before climbing over her. He quickly slips into her warmth, burying himself to the hilt, making her moan as he bottoms.

“Fuck, sweet girl, always feel so good for me,” he praises, as he suckles a bruise on her neck.

He moves slowly, letting her get used to the angle, she writhes underneath him - the way her bum was propped up made it so that he grazed her sweet spot every time he thrusts in. She wraps her legs around his hips, the end of her pointy heel digs into the swell of his ass, making him mutter a string of profanities.

“Shit. Har! You always fuck me so good.” She breathes out, nails scratching down his back.

“Yeah?” He asks.

She nods in response, closing her eyes and throwing her head back into the mattress, hands coming to grab at her bouncing breasts to anchor herself as she climbs to her peak steadily.

“Tell me,” he prods, sitting back on his knees, lifting one of her knees and throwing it over his shoulder. He thrusts back in again, moving with urgency, like he wanted to crawl inside her body.

“Tell me,” he urges her again over the wet noises their bodies were creating. “Tell me that I make you feel so good.”

She blinks up into his jade irises, mouth parting open in pleasure, as he bites into the jiggly soft flesh of her dimply thigh. “You’re the best I’ve ever had. The only one I’ve ever had.” He gasps, as the heat sears through her body as he keeps up his relentless pace.

He watches her carefully, hand coming to cup her cheek. He pulls the pillow from under her and pushes it aside, dropping her thigh down as he flushes himself against her and rubs his nose against her with a dopey smile spreading across his face. “Does that mean you’re mine, sweet girl?”

“Yours. No one else's,” she mumbles back with sincerity, kissing him fiercely.

“I belong to you too. From the first moment I laid eyes on you,” he confesses, eyes blinking back the tears, burning his face into the crook of her neck, he rocks back and forth slowly. “I love you, Layla.”

She clutches onto the broad expanse of his shoulder, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she pulses around him, sinking her nails into his ass as she rides it out. She blinks back up and kisses his cheek. “You are my favourite person, Harry.”

It makes his dick twitch as his orgasm bubbles up in the bottom of his spine. “I’m close,” he whimpers into her sweaty neck.

“Come on then. Let go,” she coos, brushing back the stands of matted chestnut brown hair that stuck to his damp neck.

He exhales loudly in pleasure as he stills deep inside of her, filling up the condom. He collapses on top of her, cheek nestled between her breasts. He moves to slip his softening prick out of her but she grips onto his love handles holding him in place - a perseverating gesture of hers, wanting to bask in the afterglow a little longer. He smiles against her chest, kissing the heated sweaty skin, hand moving to scratch her scalp.

Oscar Wilde was wrong, he thinks. Living is not better than existing. He has clearly never been in love. Because merely existing with Layla is a life worth living.

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK SO FAR!

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acerace · 3 years ago

Note

...you have opened my eyes to a vast universe of VintageBeef lore that I was unaware of. I knew about the New Hermit Order, of course, and the UHC invention, and I've watched a few of his CTM things but -- I will take all the info and lore you feel like giving out because Beef is amazing and my knowledge is so small.

Vintagebeef my beloved <3

So the thing is, right, until about 2016 I only watched two (2) youtubers- Vintagebeef for Minecraft and aDrive for Pokemon (and funnily enough both of them are named Dan irl). So I've watched most of Beef's videos over the years and have a general knowledge of most of his stuff, except because it's been like a decade I don't remember where most of the lore comes from XD

The thing with him is that he doesn't do Lore tm the way other mcyters often do lore- he doesn't have an extensive RP series to draw from like Grian, doesn't have a solo world with steadily increasing amounts of lore like Etho or Zisteau, and while he's played on SMPs and been involved in storylines before it's not really the focus of his episodes unlike with Evo or Legacy or Empires

So where does that leave us?

IRL, Beef always has multiple series running at the same time. Often he's playing on an smp while doing a singleplayer, often modded, series as well as a CTM or modpack with a group of friends. For example, right now he's playing on Hermitcraft, doing weekly Pixelmon and Building a Zoo episodes, and a CTM map with Slip. And to me, this translates to one thing: Beef is an adventurer. He travels frequently- he explores a world and when he decides he's done, he leaves for the next one. That's the basis of my personal interpretation of his series and his character for my writing.

Ok so reading this back, this got extremely long and didn't explain much in the way of lore, somehow? If anyone has any additions to add please do so, I am very definitely leaving out a lot and would love to see what other lore people remember and are using for Beef! I didn’t include the Hermitcraft stuff since my memory of season 4 is blurry (his base was themed after the Martian, that much I know, and he and Iskall were buddies :D) and most of the s5 NHO lore is best watched from Bdub’s perspective from what I remember, and the only s6 stuff is a single line in Hermitgang and then the Area 77 arc with its possibility of an NHO reunion which we did not get rip. And s7 of course had the cloning machine and also the Podzol Party as the main lore. So all the original rambling is still below the cut though it is very long, and I'm gonna bullet point the main stuff here instead:

Actual canonical things:

Invented UHC and was the only survivor of the first ever uhc (Mindcrack UHC s1)

Married to an ender dragon (one of the UHCs I think), later father to a different dragon (Mindcrack season 3? I think?)

Might not have legs if you choose to take that joke as canon (Mindcrack s2)

Was a wizard (RAD)

is a zookeeper (Building a Zoo)

Had a wife and kids (Sims in Minecraft)

Part of the Trial of the B Team court case (Mindcrack)

NHO founder, founder of the Podzol Party (Hermitcraft)

Created a cloning machine that sort of works (Hermitcraft)

Played the Forest which is I believe the first time he and Keralis played together (look up the trigger warnings for this one, it's a horror game)

Was the creator/owner of Sourceblock SMP (featuring some familiar faces if you know Legacy, Empires, or MCC) and there is literal magic from a mysterious sourceblock of water that teleports people and summons mobs and probably more stuff that I haven't seen yet since I'm still watching it myself

Things you can infer:

Good with animals (Life in the Woods, Pixelmon, Ark)

Is a car nerd (irl and all of the car games he's played)

Is a highly experienced adventurer who has traveled through dozens of worlds both vanilla and modded, across multiple dimensions (Twilight Forest, the Aether, the Betweenlands, Limbo), completed dozens of monuments, fought in blood sports, survived apocalypse after apocalypse, tamed dinosaurs, and played a lot of prop hunt and golf with your friends

If you're looking for what to watch for lore purposes, I'd say the Mindcrack UHCs and Team Canada's RAD series are pretty good, definitely Sourceblock and HC s5, plus the Diversity CTM maps and Ruins of the Mindcrackers maybe? And Mindcrack Prank Wars for the chaos and the origin of Team Canada. And if you can handle horror than the Forest is fun and if you don't do horror you can watch the Pojkband play golf or prop hunt they're hilarious I love them sm I want a Pojkband reunion So Bad

Beef's first series was a singleplayer series in beta 1.4_01 though he had played the game extensively before that, and was a big fan of Guude, having watched his own Minecraft videos. The series was functionally a hardcore one where if he died Beef would delete the world and start again! I haven't actually Watched this series so idk if he died or how often lmao. When Guude made Mindcrack, which was btw one of the very first Minecraft SMPs, he also hosted a competition for people to join, and Beef submitted a video (which is still viewable on his channel I believe!) and won, and was added to Mindcrack in season 2 :D (fun fact, Guude said that even if Beef hadn’t won he would have added him anyway)

Two running jokes emerged from Mindcrack- pulling a Vintagebeef and Beef doesn't have legs. The first is a reference to Beef dying of fall damage (I believe the exact instance was him trying to jump into his swimming pool and failing spectacularly) and after the incident, every time someone died of fall damage they were pulling a Vintagebeef. The second joke comes from Guude, who joked that the reason Beef wasn't going to a convention was because he didn't have legs, and then he pranked Beef's base by building a giant pair of legs at the entrance to his castle so you had to walk between them to get into the base. This joke has long since died and both Beef and Guude feel pretty bad about it iirc because there were people who genuinely thought Beef was disabled and were emailing him supportive messages and stuff oops. So if you go looking on the Salad or find old Mindcrack fics, you might see references to Beef having prosthetic legs!

Mindcrack also brought about the creation of several Player groups- Team Nancy Drew, Team Canada, and GOB to name a few relevant to Beef. Team Nancy Drew consists of Beef, Pauseunpause, Guude, and Baj, who formed to investigate a prank on one of the members but I forget who. They're named Nancy Drew after the detective! Team Canada also formed in retaliation to pranks, with it consisting of Beef, Etho, and Pause, the three Canadian members on the server (not including Adlington who moved to Canada but never joined the group). There was also a Team America who pranked them with American flags everywhere. GOB is Guude, OMGChad, and Beef, who played stuff like the Ragecraft, Pantheon, and Monstrosity ctms together but that's way down the line lol

Team Nancy Drew is also notable for inventing UHC. It was Beef's brainchild but it was the four of them who first played it! The first UHC had the four of them working to kill the dragon with no natural regen, with everyone dying but Beef, who "won" the UHC. The second uhc was still dragon focused and iirc is where Beef married the dragon? Memories are hazy but they do kill the dragon in this one I think. UHC was then revamped as a pvp event and became a regular Mindcrack game every few months, featuring most of the Mindcrackers and several special guests, including Dinnerbone, who as we know Thanos-snapped Doc's arm out of existence as a result of Doc killing him in one of them

In one of the seasons of Mindcrack, Beef invited swedish Mindcracker and good friend Anderzel to go caving with him and invented ABBA Rules caving, where the winner takes it all. ABBA Rules is a game where each ore (and also dungeon loot like nametags) is assigned a point value and the person with the most points at the end wins and gets to keep all the stuff collected from the game.

In Mindcrack season 3?, Beef punched the ender dragon in an... awkward area, so when the dragon died and left the egg behind, Guude said Beef was the father of the egg XD I don't remember if I watched s3 so I have no idea if anything Happened with this concept but *history of the world voice* you could make lore out of this!

So Team Canada has played a Lot of CTM maps (which fun fact were pretty much invented by another Mindcrack member, Vechs, with his Super Hostile series! Super Hostile has a bunch of things called "Zistonian", which are references to another Mindcrack member Zisteau, who has a very wild singleplayer series with even wilder lore but I digress). In Ruins of the Mindcrackers, they had a running joke that Beef was Etho and Pause's mom, which is a joke we can leave in the past actually /lh. They also played all the Diversity maps, Sky Factory, Terra Restore, Uncharted Territory uhhh and a couple more ctms and adventure maps! Each map kinda has its own story so in Diversity 3 for example they were trapped in a simulation? I think? Team Canada also recently played the Roguelike Adventures and Dungeons modpack, aka RAD, in which Beef was a wizard with a magic staff that could do anything from summon lightning to control hostile mobs.

Sourceblock SMP is a vanilla survival 1.14 series that ran for one season and the series starts with each of the Players being drawn to a strange sparkling water source that, once they touch it, brings them to the Sourceblock world. It also summons a giant zombie at one point. There's probably more lore for this series but like I said I haven't watched it all the way through yet

He has a Patreon server called VintageCraft and has done a series or two on there as well, and played a few UHCs with them, so lore that how you will!

Beef also played a few popular mods, notably Pixelmon, Life in the Woods, and Feed the Beast, with LitW being singleplayer and the other multiplayer. He's also recently played the Zoo and Wild Animals mod a lot. He did a short series with the Minecraft Comes Alive mod where he married one of the villagers and had two children, so that's canon now :D he’s played a Lot of Pixelmon starting when the mod first came out iirc (he chose Turtwig in his first series and built a Grass gym, then made a Normal gym in another series in uhh 2016) and he still plays to this day. Quite a few Hermits played on his Pixelmon servers with him, like Wels, Etho, Iskall, Stress, Slip, Zueljin, and also Guude and Phedran (a Mindcrack adjacent player and creator of the LitW modpack) and a few Mindcrackers on the older servers

Mindcrack and friends played a lot of other games too- 7 Days to Die, Ark Survival Evolved, Unturned, to name a few, so you can pull a lot of lore out of these as well. Speaking of friends and non-Minecraft games, Beef teamed up with Pause, Keralis, and Slip (a former Hermit) to play the horror game the Forest, which saw them stuck on an island trying to survive against terrifying mutated human... things. They played it a few times as the game updated but as afaik it's the first time Beef played with Keralis and possibly Slip and since the game starts with the Player's airplane crashing, that could totally be how Beef first met them in-universe

I... think? that’s everything I mentioned in the tags? There is probably way more stuff I’ve forgotten that stems from inside jokes and things that happen within each series, but I hope that was a) helpful and b) at least somewhat comprehensible lmao

#hermitcraft #mindcrack #vintagebeef #mcyt #long post #asks #redwinterrises #that was so many words #kudos to anyone who reads the whole thing lmao

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emmyhem · 4 years ago

Text

good stupid (l.r.h)

a/n: hi again! this is a short and sweet luke x student fem!reader imagine, and my first time posting smut,, i’m planning on posting some angsty stuff pretty soon sooo i wanted to have something pretty fluffy up but as i wrote it became clear to me that smut would fit well. so with all that being said, i hope you enjoy - emmy <33 (p.s, requests are still open but i am working on quite a few already and they take me slightly longer to write than my own pieces because i want to be sure i’m doing them justice. but all requests are extremely appreciated as well as any feedback on my writing. and i’m always up to chat, if you ever have something on your mind, no matter how random :))

pairing: luke hemmings x student fem!reader

summary: an innocent but important secret sparks a competitiveness between you and your boyfriend, but it may end in both of your favor.

warnings: smut, oral sex (female receiving), cursing, but mainly just fluffy romantic sex

word count: 2.2k

Luke’s head was in your lap as you read from your textbook intently. Your eyebrows were tugged together and your lips pouted in concentration.

“You’re pretty.” he hummed, a sweet grin on his face.

You glanced down, scrunching your nose in fondness.

“You too.” you responded, poking his cheek.

“Stop, I’m blushing.” he joked, hiding his face behind his hands.

You laughed before turning your attention back to your studies, but Luke’s eyes remained glued to you only breaking contact occasionally to blink. You could feel his eyes on you, making it extremely hard to focus.

“Luke.” you scolded.

“What?” he whined.

“You gotta stop staring. I'm trying to study bub.”

“No can do, lovie. M’studying too.” he protested.

“And what are you studying?” you questioned.

“You.” he said matter of factly. “Happens to be my favorite subject.”

You pressed your lips together tightly to avoid smiling like an idiot. The two months you’d spent with Luke had been the best of your life, for the first time you felt like things were just right. It was as if you had been made for him and you kept finding yourself having to actively avoid blurting out the big L word. It was like it was always at the tip of your tongue threatening release, any time he would compliment you, or hug you tighter than normal, and it was especially hard when he kept looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

So caught up in your lovestruck haze, you hadn’t noticed that you had sat your book down next to you on the couch and were staring off into space.

Luke sat up and pulled you to his chest.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he poked, pressing a swift kiss to the top of your hairline.

“Just thinking.” you mumbled into his shoulder.

“Bout what? You gotta tell me I’m trying for an A in y/n studies.”

You laughed while shaking your head.

“I’m thinking about saying something stupid.” you said timidly, pulling out of Luke’s embrace to look him in the eyes.

“Good stupid or bad stupid?”

“M’not quite sure.” you answered, moving back into Luke’s arms.

His eyes flashed with mischief as he leaned away from you.

“I’ll give you a kiss if ya tell me.”

“I can get one of those whenever I want.” you replied, chasing his lips with your own.

“Nah, I think I’ll hold out for a while, can’t have you keeping secrets.”

You laughed, knowing how needy your boyfriend could get, “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“Heyyy,” he drawled out. “No laughing, baby I’m serious. You won’t be getting any action till you spill.”

You just pretended to zip your lips shut and throw away the key in response before continuing your work. He would give in within the hour, you were sure of it.

This has been the longest 3 days of your life. You had no idea when kissing Luke had become such a big part of your everyday routine but it was becoming abundantly clear to you that it was.

Like this morning, when your alarm woke you up for class and you rolled over to kiss him without even thinking about it. You were centimeters away from making contact before a smile broke on Luke’s face and he rolled over to mumble,

“No kisses for you.” before closing his eyes once again.

Or when you dropped off lunch for the guys at the studio, you had been expecting at least a peck to express his gratitude for your favor, but all you got was a quick kiss on the back of your hand and a sly,

“Thank you, baby.”

Tonight you were determined, and there was no way in hell you would be the one to give in. You were cooking when he got home, freshly showered and wearing only one of his favorite shirts. Luke heard you before he saw you, humming to ABBA from the kitchen, he chuckled to himself before turning the corner.

“Hi baby.” you greeted, spinning on your heel while you sucked a bit of pasta sauce off your finger.

Luke groaned at the sight of you before sauntering over and wrapping his arms around your waist as you stirred your cooking pasta.

“You are making this extremely hard for me.” he hissed in your ear. Emphasis on the hard as he pressed himself against your back.

You squeezed your thighs together at the feeling but held your composure as you spun to face him.

“I dunno what you're talking about, Lu.”

“Tell me your secret and we can go upstairs.” he whined, tugging you away from the stove.

“And let my dinner get cold?” you teased, waving a disapproving finger.

As you finished cooking Luke sat at the table, his eyes following your every move.

“Food’s ready.” you announced as you pulled two plates from the cabinet.

When no response came you looked in his direction. He nodded and beckoned you forward with the curl of two fingers. You took a seat on his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“What’s a matter, baby? Aren’t you hungry?” you cooed in his ear.

Luke clenched his jaw and ran a finger along your thigh, “I’m begging you to fess up. You’re looking way too pretty not to kiss and I don’t like to give in.”

“Me neither” you countered, your forehead pressed against his.

“Baby,” he whined.

“You really wanna know?” you said, your feet carrying you back to the counter as you got an unexpected surge of confidence.

“You have no idea.” he sighed from behind you. “Please put us both out of our misery, hm?”

“I love you.” you admitted, holding your breath as you stared at the marble countertop in front of you.

You could hear Luke stand up and felt his breath on the back of your neck within a second.

“That’s my secret.” you continued.

His hands ran down your sides before settling firmly on your hips, which he used as leverage to spin you in his direction. You kept your eyes to the floor once facing him but he was quick to change that, using his thumb and pointer to tilt your chin up. You looked up through your lashes to meet his eyes.

“And I love you more.” he returned. And there he went again with that look, as if you were his favorite thing in the entire universe.

You let out a sigh of relief, one that was cut short by Luke’s lips moving urgently against your own. You both seemed to melt into each other as his tongue worked its way into your mouth. He was quick to pick you up and set you on the counter, this way he wouldn’t strain his neck to kiss you. The kiss was breathy, needy, and exactly what your body had been craving for the past three torturous days.

“We are never ever doing that again.” he spoke into your mouth between kisses.

“Mhm.” you agreed as his hands groped at your thighs, pushing his shirt that you had on up in the process.

“Wrap your legs around me.” he instructed as you pulled away to breath.

“Lu, dinner.” you protested.

“I know, lovie. Later, I promise but right now m’hungry for something else and I can’t wait any longer.”

“Okay,” you agreed breathlessly, wrapping your legs around him tightly as he carried you into the bedroom.

Once in the bedroom he laid you out on the bed muttering out broken praises as he kissed down your neck.

“Hardest three days of my life.” he admitted as his hands slid under your shirt.

His palms were warm and rough on your skin and the only response you could muster was a soft whimper.

Once he found his way to your nipples you were a moaning mess beneath him.

“Off” you sighed, sitting up a bit so he could remove the shirt, leaving you completely bare.

He ran a finger down your stomach as he spoke, “So pretty for me, angel.”

You shuddered at his words feeling more needy by the second.

“Lu, please.”

“Feeling eager, baby? Me too. But I just wanna enjoy the girl I love for a bit.” he continued, as he settled between your legs.

Your heart skipped a beat at the word love, and you couldn’t help the dopey smile that appeared on your face.

He began peppering light kisses on your thighs each one slightly closer to where you needed him most. You started to squirm impatiently causing him to pull away and hover over your face,

“I love you.” he declared.

“I love you too.” you affirmed, straining your neck leaning to kiss him. Once you pulled away he grinned before returning to his previous position.

He wasted no more time before attaching his lips to your clit, working it furiously under his tongue.

Your head immediately threw back in pleasure, and if it weren’t for Luke’s hands holding you down you were sure your hips would’ve bucked up.

You were whimpering relentlessly as he hummed in content against you.

“Taste’s so good, baby. Missed this so much.”

You only mewled in response, feeling your first orgasm begin to creep up on you already.

“Lu,” you moaned, your hands finding his hair and tugging lightly causing him to grunt. “M’close.”

“Yea? Doing so good, wanna come for me, love?” he questioned, adding a finger as he continued the assault on your clit.

“Y-yes” you stuttered out, your breath catching in your throat as you reached your climax. You shook under Luke’s hold as he worked you through your orgasm.

As you recovered he nipped at your neck and left a trail of kisses up your jaw before finally reaching your lips. You kissed him sloppily still feeling hazy from the pleasure.

“Gonna let me take you?” he cooed, continuing to pepper kisses all over your face.

“Please.” you nodded.

“Okay, baby. Lemme grab something.” he said before carrying himself over to his nightstand to retrieve a condom.

Once he rolled the condom on and made his way back to you he rubbed his thumb on your hip as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“Ready?”

“Yea, Lu. Need you” you mewled.

He began to press into you slowly, letting your body adjust to the stretch as he inched in. Once he was completely in, you clenched in pleasure at the sensation of being so completely full. This caused Luke to grunt loudly,

“Fuck, so good for me, angel” he praised. “Lemme know when I can move. Okay, baby?”

You nodded quickly as you took your bottom lip in between your teeth.

“Move, please.” you begged, desperate for friction.

He started with slow thrusts, they were passionate and so filling you felt like you might actually burst. His thumb found your clit and began rubbing slow circles as he continued.

“F-faster,” you stumbled over your words, the pleasure overwhelming you. “I need faster.”

Luke was happy to comply, picking up the pace with each thrust. As he pounded into you harder he pressed further, his head nudging at your g-spot causing you to squeal, your fingers gripping at the sheets.

“Is that the spot?” he questioned hitting it repeatedly, causing your brain to essentially go numb. The only active thought being, Luke.

You physically couldn’t gather the strength or power to speak so instead you just nodded, your entire body falling slack as your second orgasm approached.

“Gonna come for me again, baby? Show me how good I’m making you feel?”

As if you weren’t already feeling enough, Luke chose this moment to attach his lips to your neck again sucking harshly at the spot he knew made you weak.

“Fuck, baby.” he groaned, breaking away. “Can feel you clenching around me. Cum for me y/n, I know you can do it. C’mon gimme one more, wanna come with you.”

You came undone around him as he hit your most sensitive spot over and over again. He followed immediately after, your name falling from his lips repeatedly during his release.

So completely fucked out, you didn’t even notice when he pulled out, and tied off the condom before throwing it away and flopping down next to you on the bed.

“How are you doing, my love.” he asked sweetly while pulling you to his chest.

You nodded into him and mumbled, “m’good, really good.”

“I love you so much.” he spoke into your forehead before pressing a wet kiss on it. “How ‘bout I get ya all cleaned up and then warm us up some dinner to eat in bed?” he questioned, eyes studying your face.

“Will you shower with me?” you asked timidly.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on doing it alone.” he teased, lifting you up.

As he sat on the edge of the tub, you on his lap, letting the shower run over his hand to ensure the water temperature was just right for you, you buried your face into his neck.

“M’so glad I told you my secret.”

“Me too.” he laughed. “Though, that whole no kissing thing was stupid.”

“Good stupid.” you countered.

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nobutfredweasleytho · 3 years ago

Text

YOU JUST DON’T LISTEN(F.W)

Summary: Fred’s ex girlfriend writes him a letter to explain the how him using her wrecked her emotionally.

Warnings: angst, like a lot of angst, depressed Y/N, mentions of self doubt, a little swearing, mentions of parents not loving correctly, used reader. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Major thank you to Gabriella @onlyfreds for being an amazing person and encouraging me to write whatever this mess is. I am forever grateful to you

(The font is terrible Im sorry im just getting used to working on tumblr)

Fred Weasley checked the muggle clock on his nightstand. 10:30 AM. His mom will call him for breakfast anytime now. He has been awake for quite some time if he can even count the 30 minutes he tried to sleep but couldn’t, not when every time he tries to close his eyes his mind and eventually dreams are clouded by her. By the last time he looked at her, how devastated she looked, How her face was wet from her tears and her eyes bloodshot red, but the thing Fred will never be able to forget is her voice. How raw and vulnerable she sounded while saying the most horrible thing’s anyone has ever said to him, but he can’t blame her, he has no one to blame but himself because in the end it was he who caused all of this and now its come to bite him in the ass. He hears the door open and his twin brother George enters.

“Mom says breakfast is ready and she wants you downstairs. She says she’ll drag you herself if you don’t show up again today.”

“Tell her I’m not hungry and I’ll come grab a bite later.” I really don’t feel like being surrounded by other people right now. Not in this pathetic state I’m in. Besides it will take me willpower I don’t have to not hex Ron into oblivion.

“Well she will not take no for an answer and I wont either. What’s done is done now and you’ll have to face the world someday so start with your own family because everyone down there is worried sick about you and the least you can do is show your face once in a while so they know you haven’t died of starvation or sleep deprivation.” George has worry written all over him and I’m sure the rest of the family has it too. I feel even more like shit for worrying them.

“Fine. But I come back here if she is mentioned are we clear?”

“We weren’t gonna mention Y/N anyway now lets go moms worried sick for your dumbass.”

Breakfast was going smoothly with Ginny and Ron being exited for Quidditch season, Harry and Bill discussing the unfortunate events of the Triwizard tournament last year, dad asking Hermione about a rubber duck whatever that is, but the most shocking thing is mom asking me and George about the joke shop products. George is doing most of the talking but still the fact that shes even asking is awesome. I was finally feeling peaceful this whole winter break until I heard a hoot outside the window.

“I thought it was Tuesday but since mail is here does it mean its Friday already? Oh how fast time is going.

“No Arthur honey you are right it is Tuesday, Bill or George can one of you see if that owl has the owners name attached to it and bring whatever letter he has here to see who is it for.”

Bill got up from his seat and went to the window next to the countertop to look at the mystery owl. “Do we even know a Y/N Y/L/N?”

The room went quiet. The only thing that could be heard was the owls hoot asking for its treat. Bill seemed not to realise this as he took the letter from the owl, gave him a treat and sent it on its way.

“To Fred Weasley from Y/N Y/L/N… Who’s Y/N is she the girl you’ve been crying over this whole time huh Freddie?” Bill chuckled but I just grabbed the letter. I had no time to even be mad at him because once again my mind fogs up with only her. I couldn’t help but feel relieved and the happiest I felt in a long time. She has forgiven me. Y/N forgave me. That has to be it. Why else would she send me a letter?

“I had a great time with you guys but there’s important matters for me to attend so I have to go to now. Thanks mom the breakfast was amazing as always.” And with that I sprinted towards my room, locked the door and examined the letter in my hands. It was a bunch of them in here. I went to mine and George’s worktable threw some papers that were on top of it to make room for these letters and carefully opened the envelope.

The first thing that I grabbed was a photo. It was a polaroid of me and Y/N on the Gryffindor common room. Happiness filled my heart when I started remembering this night. I looked at the back of the polaroid and surely enough there was a writing on it.

Fred and Yn on the Gryffindor common room at 1 AM the night she turned 17. Listening to ABBA’s “Dancing Queen”. Picture taken by major 3rd wheel George Weasley.

Tears filled my eyes when I remember this night. It was the night I looked at her the way I always should have. Not as a replacement of someone who didn’t care about me.

The next one was also a polaroid photograph but this one I don’t remember being taken. It’s a picture of Y/N teaching me how to play the guitar. I can make up that we are in her dorm but not more as the picture is taken in black and white. I look at the back and surely this one also has a writing on it but the handwriting doesn’t look familiar at all.

A drunken Y/N accompanied by a even drunker Fred trying to play the guitar in the middle of the night. If I fail my charms exam tomorrow I’m killing you both but right now you two look adorable. Picture taken by Cho Chang.

The third one is an actual letter. I chuckle looking at the handwriting. Always so precise and not even one line out of place. I always thought Y/Ns handwriting always contradicts her hot headed persona but it’s actually really cute. I start reading the letter and my heart stops.

Dear Freddie,

I can only imagine the shock that receiving a letter from me would cause you right now especially after our last conversation.

But I have a lot to get off of my chest and I wont be able to move on if I haven’t said it all. Call me a coward but I was really scared to ask you to meet me so I can say it in person, but maybe that’s what I have always been. A coward. A coward because I get scared when someone wants to enter my life, a coward because I hate trying new things at the expense of failing, a coward because I should be able to confront people who brought darkness and sadness to my life.

But one thing I will admit Fred Weasley is that I wasn’t a coward when It came to loving you. It was the first time that I let someone come into my life and heart the way you did, and it will probably be the last. Throughout our “relationship” if you can even call it that as it was more of you customizing me to be her, to be someone I’m not. But that’s why you even talked to me is it, because I reminded you of her.

The signs were right in front of me and I feel stupid enough not to have seen them. But I guess people are right when they say love is blind. Love is such a funny thing to me as the first time I experienced the right kind of love was through you. But that was me creating stuff in my head. You didn’t love me no, you loved the idea of me. But I loved you. I loved you more than anything or anyone I have ever loved, I loved everything about you. But you just don’t listen. You don’t listen to anyone around you. Not George, not your other siblings, not Lee or any of your other friends for that matter, not your professors, but most importantly you don’t listen to me.

You didn’t listen when I told you that the love my parents gave me was only because I reminded them of my brother, the love my old friends back home gave me was one of interest. Everywhere I go no matter who I talk to no one will love me for me. I came to accept that until I met you.

You were funny and crazy and brave and oh so gorgeous. You were basically everything I looked for in… well everything. In a friend or in a partner it doesn’t matter. I thought you saw me for who I am. A broken teenager with issues but that at the end of the day was deserving of love. Oh how wrong I have been but no more wrong than you. You knew this but you just didn’t listen.

That makes us both horrible people now does it. Me who thought you were some kind of savior or some kind of saint and selfishly wrapped myself around your love and you who used me because I remind you of your ex girlfriend who broke your heart. But mine is excused I feel like and yours isn’t.

You would have kept me going for who knows how long just so you can live your imaginations you had for someone else.

Did you think about her the first time we slept together?

Was I not enough for you Freddie?

Was I too clingy too soon?

Is it my hot temper that gets the best of me?

So many questions will be left unanswered on my end because frankly, I never want to speak of you again. Sure I am deprived of love but I will not take it if its not directed directly at me.

I still care about you and will continue to support you and George on whatever you set your mind into. I was waking through Diagon Alley last week and saw this little store with a “for sale” sign. It’s right in the middle of Diagon Alley. I hate how my first thought went that you would have loved it but I seem to do that a lot recently.

I’ll get dressed and think would Fred love this skirt or this shirt.

I start applying lipstick and I’ll think will Fred love this color.

I start eating and I’ll think does this look good enough that Fred would’ve stolen a piece of it when I’m talking to Ginny.

I don’t even know why I am telling you this. How pathetic I’ve become clinging into someone that doesn’t want me.

Anyway I’ve probably bored you enough with my ranting but I wouldn’t have been able to move on unless I said everything that felt heavy on my heart. I also attached some photos I thought you’d like to keep seeing as now you can see yourself with Kayla without having the burden to be near me.

Say hi to your siblings and Harry for me.

Have a nice life,

Y/N

#harry potter #fred x y/n #fred weasley series #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley angst #george weasley #hogwarts #fred and goerge weasley #weasley family #sadnees #i hate this

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atlasshrugd · 3 years ago

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Hi seeing as you seem to be the only sorta active britin blog I can find lol I wanted to ask you about some of your favourite moments for them, as I'm kinda new to the fandom whatevers around lol, and would like to hear peoples thoughts on them if you don't mind answering 😊

Hey there! Sorry I am answering so late, but WOW this is a big ask because there are SO many favorite moments.

So I have narrowed it down to my Top 5:

1. Prom (obviously)

Okay this is a no-brainer. This is literally the most romantic sequence in all of television history. I still have not found something more beautiful, moving, triumphant, loving, and groundbreaking than when Brian and Justin danced to 'Save the Last Dance for Me' at prom. Obviously barring the horrific events of what followed, this scene transcended all stereotypes and barriers and allowed us as the viewers to feel pure happiness and pride as queer people. I remember seeing it for the first time at 14 and feeling so unadulteratedly happy and validated. This was a scene of two gay people unapologetically showing the world that they did not give a shit what anyone thought of them. The only thing that mattered was this thing between them; this unspoken understanding, solace, love, and pride. I still moves me to this day whenever I watch it, no matter how many times I do.

And of course we must talk about the implications of Brian's character in this scene. Throughout season 1, he has been an emotionally stunted and cold individual who does not believe in love, relationships, or trying to make other people happy. Here, in the finale, we see Brian finally putting away all his ego bullshit ("I wouldn't be caught dead in a room full of 18 year olds"), and going out of his way to make someone he cares about happy. The fact that he even showed up at Justin's prom is a direct U-turn from the moral principles he has been reinforcing all season. And by dancing to a "ridiculously romantic" corny song, waltzing, and kissing Justin in front of everyone without giving a shit — that is pride. That is one of Brian's long-accustomed walls tumbling down.

"And don't forget whose taking you home and in whose arms you're gonna be..."

2. When they make love for the first time after the bashing

Now these scenes...how do I describe the sheer profundity? After Justin's bashing at prom, Brian is left in shambles. He blames himself for everything, and it is just further proof that Brian's love always causes further destruction. Justin has lost all memory of that night at prom, and this is one of the big tragedies. Justin had promised that he'd never forget it, and that it was the best night of his life. That proof of Brian's love that he had for so long been longing to experience — has disappeared as if it never happened. Now, Justin's confidence and surety of the world has been distorted. He is no longer sure of anything, including himself and Brian. He needs reassurance and things spelled out for him.

When Brian and Justin sleep together for the first time after the bashing, it is not like all the other times they had sex. This, in fact, is the first time they make love. Justin is telling Brian that he trusts him wholeheartedly, enough to allow him in his body again after his own agency had been ripped away from him. This is where Justin absolves Brian of his guilt. He takes the blood-stained scarf off his shoulders, lets it fall to the ground. He gives Brian the forgiveness that Brian cannot offer himself.

"Like the first time?" Brian asks, because it is the anniversary of their first meeting, but at the same time—it is nothing like the first time. Now, they are not strangers. They are more acquainted with each other than they have ever sought to be; know each other in such profound depths. They are forever linked by this thing they have both experienced, but it is not just that shared trauma. It is based off deep understanding and love. They have, somehow along the way, become more each other than themselves. They know that they have become irreplaceable and inseparable parts of each other. And Brian has been holding onto that guilt for so long that it has become rooted deeply within him. SO when Justin absolves him of it, Brian allows himself to truly feel for the first time since the bashing. He gives himself to Justin, in that moment, as Justin gives himself to Brian. It is a brilliant and tender scene of trust, devotion, acceptance, and absolution. Something they both needed to soothe their troubled souls, and a new basis for their relationship.

3. When Brian helps Justin walk down the street after the bashing

Again, this is Brian showing nurturing, care, patience, compassion, and selflessness to another person. Justin trusts him enough to rely on him, and Brian doesn't take this trust lightly. These are some of the sweetest scenes of the whole show, because this is when Brian is completely focused and devoted to Justin. He wants to help him, more than anything, to get better. And he accepts and takes up this role of carer, not because he has to, or because he is obligated or forced to. But because he will do anything to ensure that Justin will be okay, and that he gets the life he deserves.

Specifically, my favorite scene is when the song 'Grand pianos crash together, when my boy walks down the street...' is playing. Justin is walking through a crowd and Brian has his arms outstretched. When they come together, they hug deeply and easily. This scene is so simple and pure, so chaste, but it shows the true essence of their relationship, beyond all the facades and bells and whistles. At the heart of it, Brian and Justin care about each other more than they care about themselves. They have established a stable foundation of trust that they can rely on. And it also perfectly encapsulates just how far Brian has come once again. He is showing such selfless care and devotion to a boy in public daylight, kissing and hugging him and not wanting to let go of his hand. Season 1 Brian would have never even considered that. This just shows how much the events of the prom changed him, and shows how his desire for responsibility of another person has matured him. He had been forced to face his inner feelings, fears, and truths. Now, they are out in the open for the first time and Brian accepts this. This alone is a huge development.

Brian is also afraid to let go of Justin. When Justin says he can walk back himself and says 'Later,' Brian repeats it apprehensively as he holds Justin's hand until he can't anymore. Then, he watches Justin go, walking through the crowds. The look on his face is wistful, a little troubled. He hasn't wanted to face just how much he enjoys Justin's presence and how much happier and content he is when Justin is with him. He hasn't wanted to face just how afraid he is to lose Justin again. Their words of 'Later' are a direct mirror of their last words on prom night, just before Justin got bashed. Brian had watched Justin walk away, too. And a second later, he was gone.

4. Pride

This is probably one of my all-time favorite scenes in television ever. I have cried each time I've seen it. There is something so pure, essential, liberating, triumphant and tender about this scene, and the song that plays (Chiquitita by ABBA) certainly shows it. Firstly, Justin accepts Brian in his entirety and doesn't expect him to change. He knows how much Brian has been devoting to Justin in his recovery, and how strange that role is for Brian. Here, he tells Brian to 'go find a stud, ask him to dance,' — because he knows how much Brian has been sacrificing for him. This alone shows Justin's maturity and inner strength. He loves Brian, so he will not try to change him or shackle him. He wants Brian to be free to choose and live the way he wants, and that is what he fell in love with.

But when Justin shows this sacrifical and detached love for him, Brian realises that there is nothing he wants to do; no one he wants to be with more — than Justin. He is aware of the myriads of choices he has. But he chooses Justin. (Technically, for the first time, perhaps aside from prom. But even at prom, he had been running from something [turning 30]. Here, he chooses Justin without pressure for the first time.)

So, he follows him outside. He ask him "Hey, stud. Wanna dance?" Justin doesn't believe him at first, because he is not used to Brian choosing him by his own volition. He cannot imaging Brian passing up getting laid, especially after being celibate for the whole day. He also feels like a burden; like Justin's recovery has been inflicted on Brian, stopping him from living his life normally. Justin loves Brian enough to let him be free, but the biggest part? Brian loves Justin enough to choose him in that freedom.

So this marks another checkpoint in their relationship. Not only is there trust, understanding, and love — there is also desire. Sure, they have always desired each other. But this desire is not the physical kind or one born out of loneliness. This is desire for the other person as a whole. This is desiring another person's company because theirs is the only company you want. This is desiring to be with someone when there are so many other options. This is real desire — the kind that originates from the heart and not the flesh.

"I promise you won't forget this one." Brian is promising Justin that this dance will be theirs, just theirs. Not to stick it to anyone, to show anyone anything, to make some kind of point, or to make somebody happy. This dance is theirs, for the reason that Brian wants Justin to have this: this moment where Brian only wants Justin, where he dances with him simply because he wants to. And he wants Justin to have this memory, to overcome all the vague blurriness of their past. He wants this dance to be the one he remembers when he questions himself. And so they dance, and they sway, and they kiss, and they press their heads together, and the lights are bright and colored on Liberty Avenue, and everywhere people are free and joyful, and there is nothing to prove, no one to run from, nothing to hide. Their arms are wrapped around each other and the sound of 'You'll be dancing once again...and the pain will end...you will have no time for grieving...' tumbles through the air and all around them. 'But the sun is still in the sky and shining above you.' Now: there is nothing to be afraid of, and everyday life is full of reasons to be alive. To be proud.

5. Their reunification

This is one of their main checkpoints. This scene is the moment they finally become equals. Justin had left Brian for the reason that Brian could not give him what he needed to be happy, which was: reassurance. After the bashing, Justin lost all sense of who he was. There was a huge gap in his memory, therefore a huge part of himself he could not claim. He had lost partial use of his dominant hand which took away the only thing that gave him solace; his drawing ability. He was no longer sure of anything and needed things spelled out for him. He needed to talk about it.

But Brian was not willing to do that, because he himself was struggling with trauma from the incident that he did not want to face. Where his love language is in acts of service (letting Justin live with him, paying for his tuition, helping him recover) — Justin needed to hear the words. He needed verbal affirmation to prove that he wasn't crazy and just projecting his feelings onto Brian. He could no longer trust his own perception and interpretation of things whereas in the past he could read Brian's mixed signals easily without needing confirmation. This is the part Brian failed to understand. He was not willing to concede his identified notions of 'relationships' and 'love' — no matter how far he came. He had not accepted that his feelings for Justin were love, and that scared him. So he refused to compromise with Justin, believing that his actions were enough when they weren't. But all Justin needed was to be heard, and for someone to love him enough to give hime what he needed sometimes (which was, verbal and emotional affirmation).

So their relationship ended, and Justin thought he could get what he needed from Ethan, which proved to be another big lie. So at the end, Justin still cannot trust his own perception, but — he finally knows what he wants.

He comes to the realization that while Brian could not give him the words, he gave him honesty. He learned from Ethan that words without action had no meaning. So he prioritized what mattered more to him: hearing that Brian loved him? Or, knowing that Brian loved him. So he chose honesty.

And this is when they could get back together without that imbalance and insecurity.

"And you are never to play violin music in my presence again." This single line is the only thing Brian needed to say to indicate to Justin that he was hurt by Justin leaving. Brian has been putting up a front of indifference for their entire break up, only indulging in pain management in private. Justin leaving him irrefutably hurt him more than he could have ever anticipated. But he did not show it.

So, Justin smiles — a little nod of awareness — because that is all Brian needed to say. And he says, "I promise."

"And it's time...that we...grow old and so some shit..." plays in the background (Lover's Spit) as they start to undress each other, because they are now on the same playing field. They have no illusions, misunderstandings, and misinterpretations anymore. They are starting anew; a little older and a little wiser than before. Brian knows how painful it is to lose Justin. Justin knows how skewed his perception had been, because he had been so caught up in his isolation that he could not see the truth of Brian's actions.

But they both know at least one thing: that life is better together than apart.

Tbh I could go ON and write a dissertation about each of these individual scenes, but I hope this made sense and gave a little more insight on these scenes and characters. Thank you for the great question!

#queer as folk #ask #britin #qaf #brian kinney #justin taylor #brian x justin #mine

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naranciasimp · 4 years ago

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Happy Birthday Abba!

AN: Abbacchio is my favorite Jojo character so I really wanted to write something for his bday! I hope you all enjoy!!

March 25. Today was Abbacchio’s birthday. You knew he wasn’t big on celebrating it, but you still wanted to do something nice for him. It was early in the morning when you made your way to Abba’s room. You knocked on his door.

“Come in.” He sounded tired, sad even.

You walked into the room. Leone was sitting on his bed still in his pajamas. He didn’t even look up to face you. There was a half drunken wine bottle in his hand and his hair was messy. God knows if he even slept last night, he looked exhausted.

“What are you doing,” you asked.

He didn’t answer. He looked at you was bloodshot eyes. Leone was crying again. You knew why, he told you a long time ago once you both started getting close. There would never be a day where Abbacchio didn’t carry the guilt of what happened to his partner. You could only try to make him a bit happier, and figured if you could do that you then you were doing something right.

You walked up to him and gently took the bottle out of his hands. You gave him a sympathetic smile. “You deserve to be here today Leone, I’m not going to let you cry in your bedroom on your birthday.”

Abbacchio snapped out of his saddened expression for a moment. “What? You remembered? I told you my birth date ages ago.”

“Of course I remember! Are you kidding me? I love you Leone, I’m gonna remember important dates when you tell me them.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say today is important,” he whispered under his breath.

You heard that and rolled your eyes. “Yes it is! You survived another year of crazy mafia business, we all did. That needs to be celebrated.”

Abbacchio went quiet. “But, my partner.... he’s.... he’s gone and-”

“Stop.” You cut him off. “We aren’t going to do this today. I know how much he meant to you, but trust me when I say he would want you to be happy. Especially on your birthday.”

Leone sighed and stood up. “Fine.” If it was anyone else telling him to enjoy today he would’ve made them go away, but he knew that him being happy would make you happy. So for one day Leone decided to shove all of his bad thoughts away.

You smiled. “Get dressed, I have things planned for today!”

You left him to get ready and went to talk to the rest of the gang for a little bit. While part of Abbacchio’s brain wanted to act like he didn’t even have a birthday, another part really wanted to have fun with you today.

He took his time showering and fixing up for the day. Leone wasn’t expecting anything at all for his birthday. He honestly thought that everyone would forget, but when he walked down the stairs he was greeted by the whole gang.

“Happy birthday,” they all said to him. Abbacchio stood there for a moment not really processing what was going on. You just laughed at his confused look.

“Did you honestly think we wouldn’t do anything for your birthday?”

“Y/N has a ton of stuff ready for your birthday Abbacchio,” Mista said.

“Yeah! She wouldn’t stop talking about it for like a week,” Narancia added.

Abbacchio glanced over towards you. “Please tell me you didn’t do something big.”

You shrugged. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Come on! I wanna give you your presents!”

You grabbed Abbacchio’s hand and pulled him into another room. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

He did as he was told. “Y/N, I don’t need presents. You saying happy birthday was enough.”

“Nope! I need to give you a present,” you insisted.

You placed the box in his hands. “You can open it.”

He opened his eyes and began opening up the present. There was a new pair of black headphones in there.

“I know yours are really old and their pretty much broken now. So I thought you might like new ones,” you said shyly.

Abbacchio smiled. “Thank y-”

“Wait! You have one more thing.”

“Y/N the headphones were enough. You didn’t need to go all out.”

You reached into the bag behind you. “No trust me, I think you’re going to like this one a lot. Close your eyes one more time.”

You placed the thing into his hands. He noticed it was really light. Leone opened his eyes. They were tickets to the opera he wanted to see. He looked up at you with wide eyes. “Y/N... are you serious?”

“I know how much you like opera and you were talking about the new show nearby so I figured we could go together. I got us those tickets for tonight. We could go to the opera and then later on we can go out to dinner with the rest of the gang since they want to hang out with you on your birthday too.”

Abbacchio was touched. After everything that’s happened to him he thought that no one would ever love him like you do. You went out of your way to make him happy today. You planned all of this out just to try and put a smile on his face. Lucky for you it worked.

Leone stood up and gave you a big hug. He didn’t say anything for a while and he had you in a death grip. “Thank you. I really mean it. You.... you didn’t need to do all of this.”

“I know, but I wanted to. You deserve this. You’re a good man Abbacchio, and I love you.”

You heard him sniffle. That last line nearly made him cry. “He was a good man.” Abbacchio would probably never believe that, but hearing it from you made him feel so loved. “I love you too, Y/N. More then you will ever know.”

#leone abbachio x reader #leone abbacchio #abbacchio x reader #jjba x reader #my writing

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 5 years ago

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Ya know, I truly hope Miss Renesmee Carlie Cullen fully dedicates herself to just....being as out there and iconic as possible

first things first- ANYTHING with the loch ness monster on it, she owns. Posters, shirts, jackets, shoes, folders, buttons, iron-ons, there is always at least 5 pieces of Nessie merch on her at all times

once she gets old enough to start high school, the cover story is her and Edward are siblings that Carlisle and Esme took in, and sometimes her classmates will ask her what her biological parents were like and she will flat out be like 'oh, they're vampires' and Edward and Bella are like. 5 feet away trying not to scream

every Halloween she'll show up to school in an elaborate Nosferatu costume

goes out of her way to photobomb people in increasingly ridiculous ways so there will Always be a photographic record of her and in like 100 years she can get a huge kick out of teens on the internet trying to make a conspiracy about her

joins as many school clubs as she can, even if she has no interest in them- she just Really wants a concrete record of herself to exist lmao

ICONIC at school theater though. One of those demon theater kids that come to rehearsal purely to cause chaos and nothing else, but her voice is incredible so she secures every lead. One time she somehow managed to star in a show while also playing in the school band for it- her classmates still have no idea how she pulled it off

Always brings blood out in public in a CLEAR THERMOS and it stresses her family out so much but everyone else thinks she's just like, weirdly into tomato juice so the Cullens can't stop her

to everyone's surprise...her biggest chaos enabler is Jasper lmao. everyone thought he'd be a logical, responsible uncle but they're just. A Problem together. He'll 100% assist her in any prank she wants to pull, he gets her fake id's when she wants to sneak into a club with friends, he bails her out of jail without telling her parents, they figured out if she gets high and he reads her feelings he'll get high too and it's. So fucking funny.

she's always carrying some random instrument around school- like for a while it's a guitar or a harmonica, fine, but then she'll start lugging a cello around, a tuba (she doesn't even play, she stole it off a guy who was annoying her) and it escalates until one day she's wheeling a piano around the building. no one's even sure how she got in in the doors of the school. She keeps running kids over in the hallway with it

You know the Catherine Tate Lauren Cooper skit with David Tennant? Where she's being a terrible student and then perfectly recites Shakespeare? 100% Nessie

when she starts getting dates Jacob keeps trying to wing man and be over supportive and give her a ton of girl advice and it's embarrassing as hell so one day when he was on a spiel about How To Woo A Lady she looks him in the eyes and goes 'oh really? did that work on my mom?' and the Cullens fucking LOSE IT. Jacob had to go live in the woods for a few days because he couldn't cope

Emmet and Jasper: arrive to school in their jeep. Rose and Alice: arrive in a convertible. Edward: arrives in his dumb volvo. Bella and Jake: arrive to school on motorcycles. Nessie: arrives to school on a unicycle while juggling

one year she ended up getting nominated for prom queen and Edward read the minds of the teachers tallying the votes so he knew she won and he and Bella were so excited!! they're like we're gonna take so many pictures of our baby looking like a princess! And then she emerges from her room, actually drenched in pigs blood. Like she just did it to herself and went to the dance and accepted her crown like that

she regularly commits crimes against fashion. If she comes out of her room and sees Alice contemplating turning herself over to the Volturi, she KNOWS she's picked a great look

somehow gets ahold of Aro's cell number and sends him selfies of her blatantly breaking vampire laws captioned 'whatcha gonna do'. he keeps blocking her but she keeps managing to get through to him somehow

she illegally sells soda out of her locker and does people's homework for cash, while also paying other people to do her homework for her. she organizes every single senior prank. she's never gotten a detention in her whole immortal life because every teacher just Adores her for some reason

had 100% used her powers for deserved evil before. Like, if someone's being a dick at school, she'll sneak into their room at night and give them nightmarea threatening them to be a better person lol

sometimes she'll show up at the hospital unannounced and ask Carlisle, in front of his coworkers, 'yo can I raid the blood bank?'

her bedroom looks like a library. every wall, floor to ceiling books.

she's been publishing trashy romance novels under a fake name for almost 40 years now and no one in her family knows

one birthday Jacob takes her on a trip to vegas and they get wasted, at some point they were laughing about how ridiculous their lives are and they're like 'wouldn't it be fucking hilarious if we had a baby'. they then black out, hangover style, and wake up like a week later with a payment on her card to a fertility clinic. Jacob's like 😱 and Ness is just like 'you get to be the one to explain this to my parents'

Their kid is absolutely hilarious, they were correct, and at some point they realized 'wait...drinks blood..doesn't sparkle...can shape shift...we've somehow created a classic pop culture vampire' lmao

Edward had to threaten them to get them to not name the kid Vladimir

Also to be clear: Nessie and Jacob have the EXACT same dynamic as Will and Grace. that's canon.

says its her goal to star in a live action all female production of mamma mia and Carlisle is like 'honey you know you can't do anything on broadway or in hollywood' and she's like, 'no, in real life. I'm gonna go to greece and attract a bunch of women with abba songs' and he's like,,,,,ah

she loves all music but she goes out of her way to Only play stuff she knows Edward hates lmao

one day she remembers she doesn't need to breathe and can see under water and just. books herself a ticket to scotland and Finds The Loch Ness Monster

she actually personally finds a lot of monsters and cryptids like her hybrid aura just attracts all kind of weird shit and she LOVES it. She stops writing trashy romance novels and starts writing autobiographies of her traveling and hanging out with paranormal beings and everyone just assumes its fiction so she becomes a best selling fantasy author lmao

100% she's very into witchy stuff and only like...half in a trendy way. She's like what if on top of everything I've got going on I can cast spells? Think I deserve that power

when she's a couple decades old she catches Edward looking grossed out one day and she asks him what's up and he's like 'I really dont need to hear what creepy teachers think about my daughter' and she's like. oh. Dad we are gonna get SO MANY pedophiles arrested shdndjdn she gets him to expose teachers and she baits them then calls the police. queen.

She finds out she can get tattoos but they fade completely out of her skin within 5 years so she's always getting crazy tats

posts selfies on social media of her just like. hanging out with mountain lions or chilling on top of the space needle. her classmates think they're all photoshopped obvi but it drives her family insane

imagine you're 15 and you're on a nice hike in the woods and you come across your one classmate half naked, sacrificing a bear in some ritual, blood dripping down her face, bigfoot chilling on the rocks behind her filming the ritual on her phone...like on one hand, what would you do, but on the other hand. you've known this girl for a bit and you aren't surprised at all

anyway. stan Nessie Cullen.

#twilight saga #renesmee cullen #nessie cullen #breaking dawn #twilight #molly mumbles

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missjanjie · 3 years ago

Text

Somewhere in the Crowd There's You | Rosnali

Summary: Denali and Rosé were best friends all through middle and high school, but had to part ways after graduating in 1998. But even years later, the one thing that always connected them were the mixtapes Rosé would make. Ship: Rosnali Word Count: 2174 Rating: T

ao3 | ko-fi

Bonus: Denali's Playlist for Rosé

“Denali, so help me god if you’re late to graduation you will not make it to college!” her mother shouted up the stairs.

Denali groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’m coming!” she yelled back down to her. She pressed ‘stop’ on her CD player and popped the cover open, taking the disk out and putting it into its correct sleeve in her CD book. It was a smaller one, as it only contained her most precious ones - the mixtapes Rosé had given her over the years.

The two of them had been best friends since they had both transferred to the same Manhattan school in sixth grade, Denali coming from Alaska and Rosé from Scotland. Both of them had felt out of place and immediately sought refuge in each other and had been inseparable ever since. And one thing that had always been consistent in their friendship was Rosé’s love of burning CDs and giving them to her, whether it was for a special occasion or just because she thought Denali would like it, and she always did.

“And don’t even think about trying to take your walkman!”

She huffed, looking at it waiting for her on her bed. “Fine,” she threw her gown over her dress and grabbed her cap before hustling out the door.

Any attitude she might have had disappeared the second she got out of the car and saw Rosé. she sprinted towards the taller girl, launching herself into her arms. “Rosie!”

Rosé scooped Denali up without hesitation, one arm wrapped around her waist and the opposite hand holding her thigh. “Hi Dee,” she cooed, spinning around with her before eventually setting her back down. “I got something for you.”

Denali giggled as Rosé reached up under her gown because of course, she would manage to get away with wearing pants at graduation. She beamed from ear to ear as Rosé placed a CD in her hand. Written in pink glitter gel pen over masking tape was ‘Denali + Rosé: Class of ‘98’, with a heart over the ‘i’. She looked at the tracklist and smiled when she saw one was highlighted - that meant Rosé had recorded herself singing, and that was her favorite part. “Super Trouper?” she tilted her head, noting it was the only song on the list that hadn’t come out during their time in high school.

She shrugged, a tinge of pink ghosting her cheeks. “I like ABBA and the song made me think of you.”

“I love it,” she quickly assured, hugging her tightly before sliding the mixtape into her macrame crossbody bag. “Come on, we better go take our seats so we can say goodbye to our childhood.”

Rosé arched her brow. “Bit grim when you put it that way, but let’s go.”

After graduation Rosé and Denali went to dinner together with their families, then back to Denali’s house for a sleepover, likely one of the last ones they would have before college. But they didn’t want to think about that, instead focusing on enjoying the time they had together.

It wasn’t easy for either of them, and Denali was left with a difficult decision. When she was twelve, she acknowledged the fact that she was attracted to girls, but decided it was best to not do anything about it. At sixteen, she realized that it wasn’t just girls in general, that would be too easy to ignore. For the past two years, she had accepted the fact that she was in love with Rosé, but too paralyzed with fear to do anything about it.

So, she made a mixtape. Each song one declaration of love after another. And it had been sitting in her closet for a week now while she tried to talk herself into giving it to her best friend. She knew it was now or never, tonight had to be the night.

“Something on your mind?” Rosé gently prompted.

Denali hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m just gonna miss you,” she told her, sitting next to her cross-legged on the bed. “We’re gonna stay in touch, right?”

“Of course,” Rosé assured. “We can call each other and talk on AIM when we can get to the campus libraries,” she suggested, resting her hand on Denali’s thigh and squeezing gently. “I think we can make it work.”

She chewed on her lip and nodded. “If you think so, then I do too.” She glanced back at her closet, thinking, her heart racing. Rosé cared enough about her to want to make their friendship work. Maybe there was a chance…

“Hey,” Rosé prompted to change the subject, “I rented Cinderella with Brandi from Blockbuster, you wanna watch?”

Denali nodded, letting her fear quell her desire to give her the disk. “Yeah, I’ll go make some popcorn.”

Six Years Later

Manhattan felt almost as foreign to Denali as it did when she first moved there. Despite the nostalgia that filled her when she walked past Broadway, recalling seeing RENT there with Rosé for her eighteenth birthday, or the other little things that brought her back to her teenage years, she felt odd, out of place. It made her stomach churn with the way everything seemed to change.

It didn’t help that, despite all of the promises they had made to each other, she had lost touch with Rosé sometime after the start of her sophomore year. Their lives had gotten so busy, so involved, it just dissipated and she had to try her best to move on.

And most days Denali was able to go about her life as normal. She returned to her apartment with lunch for herself and her roommate. Her new normal. “Liv! Come eat!”

Olivia promptly emerged from her room, a piece of paper in her hand. “Check out this flyer I snagged from the café a few blocks over. They’re having a karaoke night tonight, we should go,” at Denali’s hesitation, she jutted out her bottom lip and batted her lashes. “C’mon, please? They’re gonna have alcohol.”

With a jokingly dramatic sigh, she acquiesced. “Okay, fine, but don’t even think about trying to drag me on stage before I’ve had at least three drinks.”

After lunch, the two of them got ready for the night, doing their hair and makeup and picking out just the right outfits for the modern y2k-era nightlife. The walk to the café was about ten minutes and they were able to get a table before the room started to fill up. Her attention faded in and out as people started to perform, nursing her drink and picking at the chips on the table.

“Alright, who’s next?” the event host prompted, scanning the room. “You, in the pink, right this way!” There were some scattered cheers as a woman took the stage, but Denali didn’t look up until she started singing.

Olivia noticed the sudden alertness in her friend. “What, you’re an ABBA fan?”

“No, no I know that voice,” she insisted, shushing her to focus on the stage better. There was no way, it couldn’t be…

“But I won’t feel blue like I always do. ‘Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s-” Rosé looked into the audience, her eyes meeting Denali’s and her breath hitching in her throat, nearly missing the last word, but when she got it out, it was as if she were singing to her once again, “...you.”

Before Denali could decide what to do, Rosé was making a beeline for her, then she was standing right in front of her, looking more beautiful than Denali could’ve ever anticipated. “Rosie?” she asked softly, afraid it was too good to be true.

A broad smile stretched across Rosé’s face as if she were wondering the same thing until that moment. “Denali!” She yanked the smaller woman to her feet and pulled her into a tight embrace, one that neither of them ever wanted to end. “When did you move back to New York?”

“Couple weeks ago officially. My parents moved out to Long Island, so I was staying with them while I was trying to find a place. That’s how I met Olivia, my roommate,” Denali explained, gesturing to the girl still sitting at the table.

Olivia offered a polite wave and smile in response. “It seems like you guys have some catching up to do, I’m gonna go on stage next then, um, keep myself busy,” she decided and scurried off.

“Let’s go outside,” Rosé suggested, the two of them leaving the café and sitting on a bench in front of it. “I’ve missed you so much. What have you been up to?”

Denali shrugged. “Got my BFA in dance, worked with a few different companies either performing or choreographic. And last year I was in Zumanity, which was quite the experience,” she blushed a bit as she recalled that, unsure if Rosé was familiar with the type of show it was, “and now I’m here as a full-time dance teacher and choreographer. What about you?”

Rosé’s eyes did widen at the name, feeling her face start to redden as her mind started to wander, wondering what sort of things Denali had performed on stage. While she hadn’t seen the show, she had seen commercials when watching TV late at night. She’d nearly missed her question, clearing her throat and centering herself. “Oh, well, my life hasn’t been as interesting as yours, I got my BFA in musical theatre, did various off-Broadway gigs, and… you’re going to laugh… I’m the understudy for the lead role in Mamma Mia here on Broadway.”

“Mamma Mia… the ABBA jukebox musical?” She covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh, a bit of giggling slipping through. “A little on the nose, isn’t it Rosie? But I’m very happy for you.”

“Maybe so, but I’m much more interested in this Zumanity stint. I mean, I always knew you had that skill level but that’s a… unique setting,” Rosé retorted, her interest, and perhaps something more, very piqued.

Denali looked down and grinned. “It was. Everyone there was incredibly talented too, it was so freeing, so queer,” she said, then hesitantly looked back up to reaffirm, “which I also am, you know, gay.”

Rosé chuckled softly and nodded. “I kind of suspected as much, just with the way you reacted when we saw RENT,” she recalled, then quickly followed up with, “I am too.”

An eight-year-long weight lifted from Denali’s chest at the confession. “Do you wanna come back to my place? It’s just a couple of blocks over, we can have a sleepover like we used to,” she suggested.

“I’d love that,” she grinned, and as they walked back to the apartment, she had her arm slung around Denali’s shoulders, not passing up the first opportunity in years to keep her close. Even though it was an apartment she’d never been in before, the fact that it was Denali’s made it feel familiar.

Denali toed out of her shoes and set her purse down. “I have something for you,” she said suddenly, disappearing into her bedroom before Rosé to question her. She rifled through her closet, pulling out a box tucked away and grinning when she found the items she was looking for. It was still a risk, but this time she knew it was one worth taking. She took a deep breath, then rejoined Rosé in the living room. “I kept every mixtape you gave me, still listen to them sometimes,” she said, holding up the CD book in one hand.

“You did?” Rosé put her hand over her chest, beaming warmly. “Dee, that’s so sweet.”

She smiled, biting her lip and looking down, trying to fight away the nerves that crept back up. “I, um, I made you one too. I was going to give it to you after graduation but I chickened out,” she confessed as she handed the mixtape she had hidden among her possessions all these years to the woman she made it for. “I think the tracklist will explain why.”

Rosé’s lips parted in surprise as she gently took it from her. “To Rosie, with love,” she read the title before turning it over to see where Denali had written the songs in silver sharpie. And, sure enough, it was one love song after another, songs she knew well, that she knew the shorter woman spent her time carefully picking out each one. “Oh, Dee, this is beautiful. Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you gave it to me back then.”

Denali swallowed thickly. “I guess more importantly, what are you gonna do now?”

There was only a half-beat of silence before Rosé smirked, setting the disk on the dining room table before cupping Denali’s face and kissing her deeply, moving one hand from her face to wrap her arm around her body and pull her close. “I’ve always loved you, Denali. I’d just resigned myself to seeing you as the one that got away.”

Denali relaxed, arms looping around Rosé’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

#rosnali #rosenali #rpdr rpf

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babbushka · 4 years ago

Note

I’ve never been able to give prompts because I’ve always been asleep while they’re open 🥺 So now I’m being greedy with 2 😂 “see what happens if you rub your ass on me like that again” and/or “what do you say?” Smutted it up with Flip Zimmerman 🔥🔥🔥

Can I please request the prompt that’s like ‘should I wear the panties or the black panties? I don’t care, I’m going to rip them off anyway.’ For Exhibitionist!Flip please? Thank you 💋

2k, CW: brief derogatory name-calling, brief violence; NSFW (roleplay, public sex (back hallway of a disco), exhibitionism, finger-sucking, hair pulling, possessive behavior, rough sex, teasing, messy PIV)

Lights down low, music loud, Flip stalks through the crowd. Bodies gyrating and grinding on one another, he pushes through the dance floor, singularly focused. Women fawn over him, hands caressing his broad shoulders and tall frame, men eye him up and down appreciatively, give him looks he respectfully declines as he sucks down the nicotine from his cigarette.

He’s hunting you down, trying his best to find you among the happy screaming cheering singing discotheque. It’s a game you play sometimes, a game he loves to win: find you, seduce you, and bring you back home with him. It’s a game you’ve been playing for years, and as ABBA thuds inside his brain, he spots you moving and grooving almost in slow motion, covered in sweat and glitter.

Flip’s about to grin, glad to have found you – when suddenly he stops dead in his tracks as a pair of unwanted hands slip around your waist, and he sees red.

He can’t make a scene, not here, not around all these people, but he storms his way through the crowd to get to where you’re awkwardly shimmying away from this strange man, a man you’ve never seen before, someone who decided to take advantage of you being by yourself on the dance floor.

“Hey gorgeous.” Flip’s voice is deep and dangerous, cutting through the blasting bass, and your whole face lights up.

Flip slides an arm around your waist and immediately tuck you against his side, content to just steal you away and let that be that, but this stranger seems to not have a sense of self-preservation and clamps his hand down on your arm, not letting you go.

“You look like you’re lost buddy, lookin’ for someone?” He threatens, and you yank your arm out of his grip, pressing yourself against your husband’s side.

“Yeah I think I just found her.” Flip sneers, brows pinching in a menacing scowl, giving him one last chance to, “Back the fuck up.”

Evidently realizing that you had no interest in him, the stranger cuts his losses and scoffs. He gets half a step away before saying something that you wince at, not because you’re upset, but because you know Flip is going to lose his fucking mind about it.

“You cunts are all the same.” The man waves you off, and Flip practically lunges forward to grab him by the back of his exaggeratedly collared shirt, twisting him around and kneeing him in the stomach hard, until he’s falling to the floor.

“Apologize, now.” Flip nearly bites through his cigarette, kicking the guy in the gut when he doesn’t answer. “Now!”

“S-sorry! Fuck I’m sorry!” The man immediately grovels and apologizes, and Flip lets him get up and scramble away, muttering and wheezing under his breath, “Fucking Christ…”

No one around you cares enough to so much as spare you a glance, let alone stop dancing, and Flip’s grateful for it. Worse has happened in this club, and everyone’s high out of their minds anyway. In a couple minutes, everyone would forget about his outburst of aggression, and the night could continue smoothly.

Except…now Flip’s angry, real angry. Bright and hot, burning up through his body. He knows it was a possibility, pretending you didn’t know each other, pretending you weren’t married opened you up to a whole world of schmucks’ advances. He knows you can handle yourself, he knows, but he loves you too much to let you.

“My hero.” You dance and sway your hips to the joyous music, a stark contrast to how wound up he’s feeling. You press your glittery lipstick right up to his ear, kissing at his cheek and teasing, “Thanks mister, I owe you.”

“Yeah you fuckin’ do, that wasn’t part of the game.” Flip snaps, and you laugh with how quick he is to drop this little roleplay act.

“Aw come on honey, he didn’t do anything, I would’ve stopped him I promise.” You cup his cheeks in your hands, kissing him deeply before turning around and pulling his arms around you, grinding your ass against his crotch.

He’s painfully hard, the rush of adrenaline going straight to his cock. You grin, wide-eyed and excited, because you love when he’s like this, you want him to take it all out on you.

“Watch what happens if you rub your ass on me like that again ketsl, just watch.” Flip mutters, and in a typical act of stubborn defiance, you do.

It takes two seconds for him to lace his fingers through yours and pull you away from the dance floor, away from the immediate crowds. He leads you to one of the back hallways, where it’s dark and much cooler, not so many bodies packed together. In fact, there’s only a handful of other people in the hallway, and they’re all occupied with the pleasure they’re giving or receiving.

Flip pushes you against the wall, it’s seedy, slick with steam from someone else’s fucking, but neither of you care. Flip wants his hands on you, and wants it now – and you’re no better. You’re already unzipping the front zipper of your halter top, your mini-skirt pushed over your ass. It’s dark enough that no one can see even if they looked, and the thought thrills you both.

No one can see, but everyone can hear, can hear how badly you want him when you whimper and whine for his cock. Flip’s hands feel you up all over, remembering a brief moment from earlier in the day:

“Should I wear the red panties? Or the black ones?” You had asked over the phone during one of his breaks.

“I don’t care, I’m going to rip them off anyway.” He had replied, much to your amusement.

He’s glad though, glad to feel the familiar lace of the red panties peeking up at him. You thought he might’ve been kidding, because you gasp out in shock when he tears the seams of the panties right between your legs, kicks your feet open.

“Flip!” You laugh, swatting at his hand in a mild punishment. He’d be grinning at you if he weren’t still so wound up with anger about the way that man touched you.

“I told you honey-bunny, don’t act surprised.” Flip shakes his head, smokes his cigarette as he pushes your back against the wall, hikes your leg up. You go easily, so easy for him, “Good girl.”

He pulls his cock out and strokes it once or twice before nudging the head of his cock into your pussy, stretching you slowly as he pushes in, walks himself forward until he’s all the way buried to the base.

“Fuck your cock’s big.” You sigh happily, your pretty nipples stiffening against the fabric of his flannel. It was too hot to be wearing it inside the disco, but Flip doesn’t give a shit, not when he’s two seconds from railing you hard like you deserve.

“Tell me all about it ketsl.” Flip flicks his ash and drops the cigarette, stepping it out underneath his boot and crushing your lips to his as he begins to thrust rough and fast.

“Oh, Flip! Ah—” You gasp into his mouth, clinging onto his shoulders for dear life as he braces one hand against the wall for leverage and fucks you hard.

“You like playin’ dirty? I’ll show you dirty.” Flip grumbles, plowing into you, your pussy stretching around him and clenching, slick and wet and throbbing around his cock. You make the sweetest sounds, little panting moans and whines that’ll get you both caught, so Flip sticks three fingers into your mouth, “Shh, shh baby you gotta be quiet.”

You lave your tongue over those fingers of him, sucking on them like they’re your favorite thing, like they’re his cock. Maybe you will blow him, now or later, you’re sure he deserves it. He makes you feel so good, fucks you so right, protects you. You suck on his fingers until you’re drooling around them, until your jaw hurts.

“A-are you gonna hurt him? Gonna beat the shit out of him for putting his hands on me?” You pull off his fingers for a moment or two, licking up the spit on his knuckles, biting and sucking at the palm of his hand.

“Depends.” Flip grunts, balls slapping loudly against you, the had of his cock pressing hard against your cervix.

“O-on what?” You lick your lips, back of your throat clicking, sweat and glitter smeared across your face, in your eyelashes.

“Where he put those hands.” Flip seethes, possession flaring up in him again and making you come, making you come just from that.

“Fuck me hard Philly, c’mon I – I can take it – yes!” You gasp, your body melting, short-circuiting, legs turning into jell-o.

Flip pulls out of you just long enough to turn you around and push you up against the wall. Your face presses against it, and he’s got one hand around your throat, holding you in place. You hum happily, pushing your ass back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust even as your knees turn in, even as you moan and whine and sigh as he milks your orgasm for all its worth.

He winds one of his hands around your hair and pulls tight, arching your back beautifully for him. He wishes he could see you, but it’s too dark, the low light only illuminating a few inches in front of him. Flip’s cock pulses and comes inside you by the time the next song ends, fucked you raw.

The both of you are breathing hard, and as Flip comes in you he feels some primal urge in him. Let everyone know who you belong to, he thinks. Not that you belong to anyone but yourself, but still. Let them all know who you want, who you keep, who you love.

You love him so much, and he loves you, loves you with everything he’s got, he should tell you as much, he knows you like hearing it when he says it.

“You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me one of these days honey.” He says instead, and you crack up.

He comes in you a little more, and then when he’s sure he won’t make too much of a mess, he pulls out. You turn around and sigh happily against the wall, arms reaching for him, pulling him close. Flip goes eagerly, wanting to be close to you always.

“Don’t be dramatic, kiss me instead.” You say, teasing him only a little.

“No.” Flip scowls, certain now that he’s come and has a clear head, that it was your plan all along to get him jealous. It worked, because of course it worked, but he doesn’t like admitting he’s so easy to get.

“You know you want to, you love kissing me, don’t you?” You bat your pretty lashes, and Flip doesn’t want to admit that either right now, but yeah, he really does.

So he kisses you, because it’s his favorite thing in the world, and you smile so wide against his lips that he has a hard time keeping a straight face. Beaming up at him, you card your fingers through his hair, so soft and sweet, bringing him back down to calm.

“I don’t like seeing you dancing with other men.” He mumbles, zipping up your halter top, putting your skirt back into place. Your panties are garbage, so he just shimmies them down your legs, stuffs them in his back pocket to sniff on a rainy day.

“I’m sorry honey, I won’t do it again.” You caress his cheek, light him up a new cigarette.

“It’s okay, I’ll just find you faster next time, promise.” He gratefully accepts the camel, blows a couple rings that make you roll your eyes.

“One more dance and then take me home?” You bump your hip against his, the two of you walking back out of the hallway, leaving the other couples and groups who are fucking one another to continue on their own fun.

“Make it two, and you got yourself a deal ketsl.” Flip breathes, and you grin and nod, pulling him back onto the dance floor, only having eyes for one another.

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman/reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman/you #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman imagine #blackkklansman #adam driver fanfic #adam driver fanfiction

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crayonwriting · 4 years ago

Text

01 - Mamma Mia

Summary: Maiko just wanted her good ol’ dad to walk her down the aisle. So, she invited the three men from your past in hopes of meeting him. The only problem was, which one of them is it?

Pairings: Oikawa Tooru x Reader, Bokuto Koutarou x Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Disclaimer: This is based on the movie directed by Phyllida Loyd and written by Catherine Johnson which is inspired by the music of the pop group ABBA.

catch up here!

"Kuroo-san?"

The said man looked up from his desk to his secretary. He was buried deep in paperwork; his sleeves rolled up to his elbows; coat off. He raised an eyebrow in question. The secretary walked into his office and handed him a cream-coloured envelope with a waxed seal. Kuroo flipped the envelope over and there at the back of it was his name, written in perfect penmanship.

“What is this?”

“Came in the mail today. It looks like an invitation of some sort.” The secretary bowed in respect and went out of the room. Kuroo was naturally curious. Without wasting any second he opened the envelope carefully and pulled out its contents. A neatly folded piece of paper was in between his fingers along with a simple, yet elegantly, designed card with the names Umeda Minoru and Obara Maiko, on it.

“A wedding?” He had said out loud. He couldn’t recall knowing anyone with those names. Although, the last name Obara sounded familiar. And he couldn’t even remember any of his friends getting married soon. He flipped open the paper and read the letter.

Hi Tetsurou!

I know it’s been a long time but I hope you can come to Maiko-chan’s wedding. It will be held in Kalokairi. Remember the small island we used to go to?

I hope you can make it.

From,

Y/N

His heart skipped a small beat as he read your name at the bottom. That’s why the last name was familiar. Obara Y/N. He hasn’t heard anything from you for how many years and now, out of the blue, you invite him to a random girl’s—a relative, maybe? Was she your cousin?—wedding on the island where it all started. Maybe that’s why you invited him? Because the island reminded you of him.

No. That can’t be right. From what he knows, you hated his guts. Hated it since the moment he left you there. But if you were inviting him to a wedding, could it mean that you’re not mad anymore?

With his mind going miles a minute, he checked the date on the invitation and called his secretary back in to book the soonest flight.

—

Bokuto slipped his shades on as he walked through the docks. He waved at the other boat owners as he passed by them. The sun felt warm on his skin and he just knew that this was gonna be a good day. When he reached his spot, he smiled widely, beaming at the vessel in front of him.

"Good morning, sunshine." He greeted no one in particular. He hopped onto the deck of his beloved sailboat, running his fingers on the grabrail. He picked up the ropes lying on the ground and prepared the boat for voyage. "We're going on a trip for a few days, my sweet."

Patting his pocket, he pulled out the slightly crumpled envelope out of it. He couldn't help smiling down at the invitation in his hand. It was a bit peculiar to get a letter from you—a wedding invitation no less!—after how many years. Your brief...meeting with him only lasted for a week and yet Bokuto yearned for your presence even after that.

Sure he's been with his fair share of women over the years but, there was no one quite like you if he had to be honest. Looking back down at the invitation, he was glad it wasn't your wedding you were inviting him to. He couldn't help but think of the 'what ifs' once he gets there…

Excitement pulsing through his veins, he prepared to set off into the sea, back to Greece.

—

"Aeropuerto por favor. Rápido." Oikawa told the cab driver as he got on. The driver understood immediately, despite Oikawa's accent. Soon enough, they were zooming through the city of Buenos Aires. He checked his bag for his passport, wallet and phone. He also caught a glimpse of the envelope he got just two days ago. He hesitated in the slightest before deciding to pull it out and re-reading the letter.

Y/N…., he had thought to himself. If there was one thing Oikawa couldn’t let go of it was volleyball. But if you were thrown into the equation, he just might give it up for you. He didn’t even know what had happened; he just met you one day and boom, he was in love. He loved you with all of his heart and he was willing to follow you wherever you wanted to go. But alas, after that one night, you just decided to disappear, leaving a small note.

He doesn’t really know why he had said yes to this wedding. He doesn’t know what to expect when he finally gets to Kalokairi. Closure? Rekindling with an old flame? He huffed out, dismissing the idea. Only one thing is for certain: he wanted to see you. So bad.

Letting out a deep sigh, he placed the envelope back in his bag. His palms started growing sweaty at the thought of seeing you in a matter of hours.

—

A shrill scream echoed throughout the docks, catching the attention of the locals. Maiko ran at a fast pace, meeting her friends halfway, who had just got off the small motorboat from the mainland. She got to her friend Nana first,—who was the tallest in their friend group—picking up her tiny frame and spinning her in a hug. She turned to Eri—the toughest of the bunch—and gave her a hug so tight. When they parted, a soft glint on Maiko’s hand caught her friends’ eyes.

“Maiko-chan!” Nana gushed. She held Maiko’s left hand in hers and there, a small, elegant ring sat on her ring finger, shining under the strong rays of the sun.

“I’m jealous!” Eri pouted jokingly. “Now, I want one.”

Maiko blushed, trying to cover her face. “Stop it! I’m getting married in a few days!” She squealed in excitement. The three girls picked up the luggages and walked up the dock. Maiko wrapped her arms around both of her friends, feeling giddier than ever.

“I’m so glad you’re both here because…,” she paused, the smile on her face growing, “I have a secret.” Nana and Eri looked at each other. Their eyes grew wide in realization and knelt in front of Maiko.

“Maiko-chan! You’re already pregnant?!” Eri shrieked. Maiko laughed loudly and dismissed the thought.

“No, no, no! It’s not that.” She grew quiet for a moment, pulling her friends closer. “I invited my dad to the wedding.”

“You’re kidding!”

“You finally found him?”

“Uhh, not exactly.” Her friends were confused. She smiled and led them to a nearby rock by the end of the docks where they sat down. She breathed out a sigh, “You know what my mom says whenever I ask about my dad. They met in the summer, fell in love, but my dad left even before she realized she was pregnant with me. All these years, I’ve accepted that that’s all I’ll never know about him.

“But then,” she rummaged through the tote bag she brought with her, pulling out an old, worn journal. “I found this.” she said, proud.

“What is it?” Eri asked.

“It’s my mom’s old diary the year she was pregnant with me.”

“Oh my god!” Eri sat closer to Maiko as she opened the journal. “So we’re really gonna read Y/N-obasan’s journal?”

“Oh shush.” Nana dismissed, sitting on Maiko’s right side.

“July seventeenth,” Maiko started. “Kuroo—Tetsurou as he insisted to be called—rowed me over to the little island. That’s here, Kalokairi. He took me on a small picnic by the beach. We danced under the moonlight by the beach. He kissed me by the beach and…,” Maiko trailed off. Nana and Eri waited.

“And what?” Nana asked.

“That’s it. They did it.” Maiko wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Nana and Eri burst out laughing. She smiled and continued reading, “Tetsurou’s the one for me. I just know it. I’ve never felt love like this before.”

“So, this Kuroo-san is your father?” Nana questioned. Maiko eyed her, silently telling her that there was more to the story.

“For the time that we’ve been together, Tetsurou has said he loves me, several times. But now, he’s announced that he’s actually engaged. He just left earlier this morning to get married and...I’m never gonna see him again.”

“Aww, poor obasan.” Nana pouted, sympathizing you.

The three of them continued their trek up the island, while Maiko continued to read out loud the contents of the journal.

“August fourth, what a night! I met someone. Bokuto Koutarou. He was vacationing around the mainland, visiting his aunt. I passed by and everything clicked. He rented a motorboat, so I took him to the little island. Even though I know that I’m still in love with Tetsurou, Kou is just so...WILD!” The trio widened their eyes at the comment. “One thing led to another and…”

“So there’s a Bokuto-san as well?” Maiko just grinned excitedly and continued.

“August eleventh, Oikawa Tooru appeared out of the blue. I saw him struggling to order food from a restaurant so I helped him out. He was on a layover for a flight to Buenos Aires that got delayed for a few days. So I said, why not show him the island. He was so sweet and understanding. And he’s so pretty too! Oh! I couldn’t help it! And…”

They’ve finally reached the top of the island where your villa was. You ran a small hotel on the island, which wasn’t as successful as you thought it would be seeing as there weren’t many tourists and not many people knew about the island itself. Nevertheless, you were able to care for Maiko and that was all that mattered.

“Oh my god!” Eri squealed. “Y/N-obasan was so adventurous wasn’t she?”

“I can’t blame her. I mean have you seen her? She looks good even now!” Nana sighed. A bustling sound was heard from the entrance of the villa, with you appearing not seconds later, a broom in hand. You glanced in their direction. You did a double-take when you saw your daughter’s friends, waving at you. Maiko quickly hid the journal behind her back.

“Oh! You’re here already!” You set the broom by the wall, wiping your hands down on your old overalls. “It’s been so long!”

Nana and Eri walked over to you. You engulfed them in tight hugs and sweet kisses on their cheeks. You held Eri’s face in your palms, brushing her hair away from her face. You turned to Nana, placing a hand on her cheek.

“Look at the both of you! You’re practically all grown up! I remember when you were all wreaking havoc around here.” You beamed at them, proud. “And you look like you’re already having fun!”

“We are!” Eri cheered. You hummed in response. Your mind went somewhere else for a quick moment—a memory—and you mumbled,

“I used to have fun, too.”

“Oh, we know.” Nana quipped. Maiko pinched her arm subtly. You eyed them suspiciously, not really hearing what Nana had said which Maiko was thankful for.

“Well, I better leave you all to it. I know you have some bridesmaids duties to get to. I’ll see you all later.” You picked up your broom again and disappeared further into the villa.

When they were sure you were gone, the trio breathed out a sigh of relief. Maiko led them to her room for the moment as her friends’ belongings were getting checked into their respective rooms. They rushed inside, away from listening ears and wandering eyes.

“So, who is it?” Nana asked. “Is it Tetsurou-san, Bokuto-san or Oikawa-san?”

Maiko just shrugged her shoulders, laying down on her bed. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” Eri interjected. “Who did you invite?”

Maiko just looked at them expressively. Her smile grew wider as her friends finally realized what she had done. Eri and Nana screamed. They jumped up and down in excitement—and disbelief—at their friend. They knew how impulsive Maiko was but this was just a bit too much, wasn’t it?

“Do they know?” Nana’s eyes had widened.

Maiko rolled her eyes at her. “Of course not. Do you think I can just write to them and say, ‘Please come to my wedding. You might be my father.’? No.” She shook her head. “They think that mom sent the invite. And with what we’ve learned today, they all said yes!”

—

Kuroo was panting heavily as he stared at the ferry not too far from the jetty, buzzing away to Kalokairi. He cursed under his breath kicking at the ground. A few seconds later, another man was beside him, panting just as he was, staring at the ferry.

“Shit.” Oikawa muttered. Kuroo scoffed and nodded in agreement.

“I know.” He said. Oikawa turned to look at Kuroo, eyeing him up and down. They trudged back to the ticketing booth and checked the schedule for the next available ferry.

“I don’t speak Greek.” Oikawa groaned, not understanding a single thing on the board.

“Deftera.” Kuroo read out loud. “Monday.”

“Ah, shit.” Oikawa cursed. He hastily opened his bag and pulled out the invitation, checking the date of the wedding. This catches Kuroo’s eyes.

So, he’s here for the wedding too, huh. He thought to himself. “Bride or groom?” He asked the man. Oikawa looked at him, startled. It took him a moment to realize that Kuroo was also going to Kalokairi for the wedding.

“Oh, bride’s.” Oikawa answered. “Although, I haven’t actually met her.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” A loud voice called. “Up here!” Bokuto called, as he was sitting atop of the mast of his boat which was docked near the jetty. Kuroo and Oikawa looked at him, confused.

“You guys need a ride to Kalokairi?”

taglist: @yikes-buddy / @ushi-please / @melodiamore / @akaashi-todoroki / @honeymoneyy / @minty-mangos-world /

a/n: thank you so much for all the support (despite me just posting the masterlist.) i’ve re-read and edited this first chapter a lot of times and i hope i’ve met your first expectations for this series. lemme tell you that first chapters are the hardest to do. i apologize if some characters seem out-of-character or weird, especially my OCs. i’m not used to OCs since i’ve only ever written reader inserts. stil, i hope you love them as much as i do!

i actually have no idea how i’m gonna steer this story so, here’s to winging it. haha! leave some comments! i love you all!

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sunsetcurveofficial · 4 years ago

Note

idk if i should ask through here??? but for the prompts you were taking: i thought 10 with merthur?? and 13 with reggie/luke ;))) love your work <3<3<3

thank you for sending them in!! i did peterpatter first, and i’ll do the merthur one in a separate post.

i think this is the first time i ever used present tense in a fic, since this is all about enhancing my writing horizon. was interesting. also idk what this is. it developed a life of its own.

13. “Don’t be sorry… it was kind of cute, actually.”

______

Here’s the thing. Luke Patterson isn’t the tidiest person, exactly. His room tends to be messy, his things tend to be scattered all around the studio, and he can never find the shirt he’s looking for. Sometimes he wakes up in a Nirvana mood and all he can find are Green Day shirts. Sometimes he puts his journal down somewhere, because he has to grab a guitar before the riff in his head leaves him again. And then he forgets where he put it and searches for hours until Reggie, Alex, or Bobby hand it to him as if it was right there all along.

It’s just that he gets so into his music that he forgets things sometimes. He also forgets time a lot and then he doesn’t have any left to clean or bring organise his stuff. It drives his Mom rather mad, but Luke can’t help it. He tries, really, but two days later his room always seems to be back to its original state of chaos.

So imagine his surprise when he gets home after practice one night and finds his room all tidy and clean with small notes pinned to random objects, commenting things like ‘Do you really need this, Luke?’ or just ‘Hahaha.’ or ‘Omg, you kept this.’ in what he identifies as Reggie’s handwriting. He’s read enough of his country songs to know. Smiling, he picks up a stuffed bear Reggie once won for him at a fair they went to together when Alex and Bobby were both busy with their own families. Reggie pinned a note to it, saying ‘Nice to see you keeping the tokens of my affection.’

He hugs the bear close to his chest and keeps looking around his room for more of Reggie’s inane commentary. He finds dozens of notes, and decides to keep them where they are. They make something flutter beneath his ribcage, and fill him with warmth and a sense of comfort he only knows from playing his music. He’s not sure how he feels about Reggie coming to his house when he’s not there and rummaging through his things, but at the same time he knows there aren’t any secrets he’s keeping from him anyway, and Reggie knew about his latest fight with his mother. It was pretty bad, so Luke spent the night at the studio where his friend found him in the morning. So, Reggie knew he struggles with keeping his room clean again, causing him to fight with Emily and feel miserable about it, and he decided to help, apparently.

“I’m sorry for not asking first,” Reggie says suddenly, and Luke spins around to find him standing in the doorway, smiling a little sheepishly. “Your mom let me in,” he answers Luke’s unasked question.

“Don’t be sorry,” Luke says softly, gesturing around his room. “This… it was kind of cute, actually.”

Reggie leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms in front of his chest as he raises a suggestive eyebrow and smiles so brightly, Luke feels himself physically react to the sight.

“Aw, you think I’m cute, do you?”

Luke snorts.

“Yeah, man. The cutest.” He’s not lying. Reggie is… the best friend in the world, but he’s also beautiful, and funny, and Luke loves him so much, really.

Oh. Well, okay. That’s a new thought.

Luke hums curiously as he turns away from Reggie to hide the blush rising to his cheeks. He spots another note at the foot of his bed. ‘Remember when we used to pretend your bed is a stage and performed really bad versions of Queen songs on your first guitar?’

Luke does remember. And he feels warm all over again. Oh. So, Reggie? It’s Reggie for him? The decision is quickly made. Luke has always been an impulsive person, and if he wants something, he goes for it. Apparently he wants Reggie now.

He’s about to turn around when he feels Reggie wrap his arms around his waist from behind and rest his chin on Luke’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to hide your pretty blush, you know?” Reggie says, voice lower than usual. Luke feels it right down to his bones.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty, do you?” Luke says, matching Reggie’s tone from before and grinning as he turns his head. It’s an awkward angle, but they’re so close, their noses almost touching, and Luke suddenly has trouble breathing.

“Yeah, man. The prettiest,” Reggie replies, imitating Luke from before, but sounding no less sincere.

Luke hums again.

“This is new. I have to admit I did not see this one coming,” he says softly, curiously glancing at Reggie’s lips. “You and I?”

Reggie leans a little closer, and his lips are ghosting over Luke’s, almost touching, but not quite yet.

“Neither did I. But I had an epiphany while cleaning your room and finding all these memories of us,” Reggie says, his voice barely more than a whisper. He chuckles. “Well, there goes my heterosexuality.”

And then he kisses Luke, and Luke drops the bear he was still holding to turn in his arms and kiss him back, arms coming around his neck to keep him close.

“That’s overrated anyway,” he comments in between kisses, just before they fall onto Luke’s bed together. The very same one they used to play rockstars on when they were 11.

Later that night, Luke finds more notes as he happily sings ABBA songs to himself. ‘Hello pretty boy. What’s up?’ is written on a small yellow note on the corner of his mirror. On his CD copy of The Other Side of the Mirror by Stevie Nicks, Reggie left a note saying ‘I hope I get to kiss you one day just for owning this. Not sure if I mean that platonically… We should probably talk. I hope you don’t find this before I get a chance to talk to you. If you do… well. Surprise? Reggie is having a sexuality crisis and it’s all your fault.’

And when he picks out a fresh shirt from his closet, a note falls out informing him that Luke’s lack of sleeves on most of his shirts played a significant role in Reggie’s crisis about his sexuality.

“You dork,” he mumbles to himself, putting on a Fleetwood Mac shirt for good measure and singing Super Trouper as he dances down the stairs to help his mother with dinner.

“Aren’t you chipper today?” Emily says with a smile when she spots him. “I think Reggie was humming Dancing Queen when he left earlier. May I ask what put you two into such a delightful mood?”

Luke beams at her, shrugging as he does a pirouette.

“I think we’re in love, Mom,” he tells her honestly. He figures there is no need to lie to her, and he’s feeling way too happy to keep it to himself. Emily only looks a little surprised.

“With each other?” she asks.

Luke nods. “Yeah.”

Emily smiles and reaches out to squeeze Luke’s arm.

“Well, that’s lovely. He’s a fine young man, I’ve always thought so.”

Luke hugs her, just because he can and he doesn’t know why they fight so much when they also frequently have moments like this, when he feels so blessed to have her.

The next day, when Luke walks into the studio and finds his friends already gathered and ready with their instruments, he feels all warm and fluttery again as soon as he spots Reggie, so he walks right over to him and kisses him right on the mouth.

Bobby hoots, Alex claps, and Reggie is eager to kiss back.

“Sorry,” Luke murmurs against his lips.

“Luke?” Reggie says as he pulls back. “If you ever apologise for kissing me again, I’m gonna write a hundred country songs about you, and I will get famous with them, and you’ll forever be known as that weird queer country dude’s boyfriend.”

Luke laughs and raises his hands in surrender.

“What a horrible fate. Alright, no apologies from now on.”

He kisses Reggie again, and this time he doesn’t say sorry. He’s not actually sorry, anyway.

#peterpatter #ruke #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #prompts #my fic #my writing #jatp #Anonymous

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not-reagan · 3 years ago

Text

milf: man i love forests

pairing: deforester boo seungkwan x frat boy mirror demon han jisung (side pairing reagan x rainbow)

genre: crack, strangers to friends to lovers, non-idol au

warnings: cursing, brief supernatural elements, i don’t know if this applies but all lcase, and i listened to christmas music and abba while writing this

word count: 2.7k

authors note: happy birthday @miyuuraiura !! i am so sorry about this monstrosity being your birthday gift but you asked for it so it's your fault entirely. i was gonna include some context on this story for those who are not rainbow and i but actually i don't think i will.

seungkwan did what he could to get by. he loved nature, he really did, but sometimes you have to make moral sacrifices to survive. he was a college kid strapped for cash, and when he saw a sign reading “GET RICH QUICK, INVEST IN DEFORESTATION” in the summer going into his freshmen year, he jumped at the opportunity. sure, he would have rather been a freelance singer, hired for bar-mitzvahs and children's parties, but that job market was flooded at the moment.

jisung, on the other hand, had no care for nature. actually, he didn't care for any human things, apart from “banging parties, booze, the boys™, and bitches”. he hated quite a bit about earth, the worst of all to him being college. as a demon, he had no reason to attend university, but after he was summoned in the bathroom of a frat house by the school’s power couple; rainbow and reagan, he felt obliged to follow the two around and keep them company.

for seungkwan, his main job rarely required in person work. he usually just chose plots of land to demolish, and sent plans to local managers. the only time he actually had to knock down any trees himself was during his summer break. he has a part time job of course, but it didn't provide him enough cash to survive. for someone with a job as a deforester, he truly did do what he could to save the environment. he joined his schools environmental club, becoming vice president his sophomore year because of his work with them. he kept his job a secret, not even telling his parents where the influx of cash was coming from. he kept a low profile and went through the motions of life. he didn't have much of a social life, with his small amount of friends being from the environmental club.

han jisung found joy in witnessing his professors and fellow students lose their minds over his lack of effort in class. he did the bare minimum and still passed with flying colors. most of all, it angered his seatmate in earth science, who happened to be none other than boo seungkwan. seungkwan was a hard worker in everything he did, particularly in school. he didn't get the best grades, but by no means was he the worst. averaging a steady B+, seungkwan spent most of his nights studying or working, rarely going to parties and enjoying himself only through one person karaoke rooms.

this fact upset jisung. he didn't know why, but seeing seungkwan so tired every day made him feel sad(? jisung wasn't sure what it made him feel. it was an emotion he had never experienced before. rainbow told him it meant he had a crush. to this he threw an empty soda can at them). not to mention seungkwan’s upsetting karaoke addiction, which he knew all about the danger of because of reagan, who spent most of her weekends drunk and singing. jisung didn’t know why he took such a liking to seungkwan. what he did know was that he was ecstatic to find that they would be paired together for a project. a project that required quite a bit of teamwork, and a lot of after school work sessions.

seungkwan liked to think that he didn’t hate anyone. he hated evil people, like hitler and stalin and jyp, but he didn’t really hate anyone besides the worst of the worst. that was until he experienced jisung. he wasn’t sure why jisung always talked to him when he was trying to take notes in class. he especially wasn’t sure why he was so excited to be partnered up together for the project that was worth 25% of their grade. seungkwan was less than happy to have to cooperate with jisung for an extended period of time, and he was not looking forward to letting him into his dorm room, or going anywhere near jisung’s frat house. seungkwan had no idea what he was pushed into.

they planned to meet at the cafe on campus at 5:00 pm after class. seungkwan was less than happy. jisung was thrilled. when jisung arrived seungkwan was sitting at a table drinking an americano and working on an english essay. he wasn't sure how to approach him, slowly walked closer before tapping on his shoulder. seungkwan jolted in his seat.

“jesus fuck jisung. you scared the crap out of me,” seungkwan gasped. jisung’s ears flushed as he brought his hand to the back if his neck.

“sorry,” he started, pausing for a second before starting again, “why don't we get started?”. he swung his bag down to the ground as he took a seat. seungkwan offered a small, non genuine smile before pulling out the project’s guidelines.

“let's try to finish this as quickly as possible. im pretty busy and don't have much time to fool around.” seungkwan said. jisung felt his heart drop. did seungkwan really think that little of him? granted, he always dozed off in class but he got his work done on time and in an orderly fashion. he felt his mind begin to wander. if seungkwan felt this way about him now, how would he feel when he found out that jisung was a demon. would seungkwan start to like him if he knew him better? jisung couldn't figure out why he cared so much about how seungkwan perceived him. he had never had an issue with others opinions of him before, so what made seungkwan so different? for some reason, jisung felt the need to connect with seungkwan. if not for himself, then at least to help him let loose.

after working silently on each of their portions of the projects for 3 hours, jisung finally spoke up. “do you want to maybe come to my party next month? well, it's not my party, it's for rainbow’s birthday. i know you're not one for social interaction but it would be cool to see you there. i’ll give you the details if-”

“i’d love to go,” seungkwan cut off jisung’s rambling. to be honest, he wasn't exactly sure what he was agreeing to, but he knew it would shut jisung up, and seungkwan valued his peace and quiet. part of him also just felt downright bad for the other. he seemed to be trying awfully hard to become friends with seungkwan, and he wouldn’t admit it, seungkwan had started to warm up to the boy. he really wasn’t as much of an issue as he had thought before, and was actually really respectful of seungkwan’s wishes. maybe i’ll give him a chance, seungkwan thought before going back to his work.

over the next month, jisung and seungkwan continued meeting to work on their project. seungkwan was less short with the other, and jisung was still red faced every time seungkwan decided to talk to him, which became quite frequently over the next few weeks. jisung was starting to realize that the feelings he had for seungkwan were not simply platonic, and that he didn’t just want to be friends with him. with the help of rainbow and reagan, he had come to the conclusion that he really, really liked seungkwan, and that he was going to do something about it. remembering that he had invited seungkwan to the party, he devised a plan to not only tell seungkwan about his whole “i’m actually a demon” thing, but also about his true feelings. it wouldn't be easy, but it was what he had to do.

a month later, seungkwan still wasn’t exactly sure why he had agreed to go to jisungs frat house at 9:00 pm on a saturday night. yet there he was, standing on the front porch of a large house, wondering if he should bite the bullet and walk in, or spare himself and leave right then. he didn't get a choice, however, as rainbow and reagan stepped out of the house giggling while clutching onto each other. both stopped in their tracks when they saw seungkwan. the couple and seungkwan stared at each other for a good minute before seungkwan shook himself from his trance.

“hey rainbow!” seungkwan started, “and reagan too. i know we aren’t super close, but jisung invited me and i thought i’d just drop by and wish you a happy birthday.” he passed her a birthday card filled with $50 bucks and then turned to leave. “i’ll leave you guys now. have a great birthday!” before seungkwan could get very far, however, rainbow grabbed him by the arm.

“hey, i’d love if you’d stay! at least go say hi to jisung. i’m sure he’d like to see you,” she said, silently making note to have jisung pay her back for being a great wingwoman.

“he’s probably hiding in the second floor bathroom. if you don't see him in there, just say his name three times in front of the mirror. he’ll appear.” reagan explained. seungkwan thought she was joking. how wrong he was.

following his entrance to the house, he had to refuse not one, not two, but three different people who were looking to give him bottles or cups of something which seungkwan presumed to be various types of alcohol. navigating through the house was difficult, reaching the stairs to the second floor only after running into numerous people borderline fucking on two large couches in the living room, a smoke circle taking place in what seungkwan assumed to be a dining room, and a very aggressive makeout session against a wall. once he finally reached the second floor, he had some difficulty finding the bathroom, accidentally walking in on reagan and rainbow, who had miraculously made it upstairs faster than he had.

“if you don’t stop shitting constantly i am going to break up with you! also, stop taking feet pics! it’s weird!” he heard rainbow shout.

“at least i can eat seafood! how does it make your head hurt? you’re the weakest link! that fucking seafood platter was delicious. and you know what, i’m glad i didn’t have to share it with you!” reagan responded. seungkwan quickly shut the door, not wanting to get involved in whatever drunken argument was going on there. after a bit more searching, he finally stumbled across the right room. knocking first to see if anyone was in there, he entered, and to his surprise, nobody was there. jisung was nowhere to be seen. seungkwan reviewed his options. he could a) leave the party, or b) continue to look around the packed house. but there was another option. he thought about it for a second.

“what's the harm in trying,” seungkwan thought out loud, before staring directly into the mirror.

“han jisung, han jisung, han jisung.”

nothing happened. that's what seungkwan thought, until a minute later the lights in the bathroom flickered off and the mirror began to glow. “what. the. fuck,” seungkwan managed to squeak out before falling backwards into the tub. first a leg emerged, then two arms, and finally the rest of jisung’s body.

“i feel like the genie in aladin every time i have to get into a fucking mirror,” jisung complained before seeing seungkwan toppled over. to that view, he jumped down off the counter and moved to help him up. seungkwan, aside from falling, seemed to be reacting well to the whole situation, at least in the sense that instead of freaking out he seemed to be in a state of shock. jisung took this as a good sign, and lifted the motionless body up onto the toilet seat.

“hey seungkwan, you there?” jisung waved his hand in front of seungkwan's face as he slowly came to his senses.

“what kind of twisted party trick was that?” seungkwan asked, pretty seriously. jisung just laughed.

“you summoned me from the mirror. i’m like a funny version of michael jackson except i'm a demon and not a man in the mirror.” jisung explained. seungkwan just stared. “are you ok kwan? do you want me to get you some water?”

“it was… kind of sick.” seungkwan stated. he didn't know why he wasn't scared. under any other circumstance like this one, he probably would have shit his pants. for some reason he felt comfortable around jisung. he felt warm. he felt seen. it was something he hadn't felt before. that's when he realized. he wondered why it took himself to long to figure it out. he never hated jisung. he just didn't know what to do with the fact that he made him feel special, and that he felt as though he belonged when they were together. it had hit him why he was so nervous the whole night, why he had wanted to make such a good impression, and why he was willing to embarrass himself by calling out jisungs name as opposed to just choosing to go home. it was because he loved him.

“can i tell you something?” both of the boys said at the same time. jisung giggled and seungkwan flushed red. **authors note! bonus starts here**

“you first,” seungkwan offered. he wasn't exactly sure he would be able to make it through a sentence without getting any redder than he already was.

jisung took this opportunity to finally get his true feelings out into the air, “i like you… uhh like, i like like you. i have since we first became seatmates. well, i think that's when i've liked you since. i knew whe-”

“you're rambling again,” seungkwan told him. jisung flushed a dark shade of pink. “it's a habit of yours. i think it's cute actually.” seungkwan wasn't sure where his sudden surge of confidence came from, but he was glad it came. he was standing up now, holding jisungs hands in his. jisungs heart was racing a mile a minute as he looked down at their intertwined hands and them back up, catching seungkwan looking directly at his lips. “can… can i kiss you?” seungkwan stuttered out. jisung couldn't find his words, so he opted to just nod.

when their lips connected, seungkwan could have sworn he heard fireworks. he did later find out that someone was setting off a firework in the back yard, but it was the thought that counted. their lips melted together perfectly, and seungkwan wondered why it took him so long to admit his feelings to himself. he could have been kissing jisung for a month before this.

once they finally parted, seungkwan spoke softly, “i like you too. i think that's pretty obvious now but just in case you didn't know.” jisung had the dumbest, most confused face on, and seungkwan had the brightest smile he'd ever had. seungkwan had rendered jisung speechless, for once in his life. not long after, they started kissing again, content with their emotions and their new relationship.

seungkwan was never one to believe that good things were permanent. he was overdramatic, stubborn, and hated interacting with people outside his small social circle. that was until han jisung came along. he was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he could let someone else into his life.

jisung was a simple man. well, not a man, but he was simple nonetheless. he liked banging parties, booze, the boys™, and bitches. well maybe there was one more thing he liked. he knew for sure he liked boo seungkwan. maybe he loved him. maybe seungkwan even felt the same way.

-fin

**BONUS**

reagan and rainbow leaned up against the door to eavesdrop on their matchmaking work.

“holy shit!” reagan gasped.

“what is it?? tell me what happened. you're hogging up the door!” rainbow hissed.

“our boy is so grown up,” reagan pretended to cry. “put your goddamn ear up here.” rainbow felt her ear connect with the cold door just as jisung confessed his feelings.

“i like you… uhh like, i like like you. i have since we first became seatmates. well, i think that's when i've liked you since. i knew whe-” his next words were cut off on the girls side of the door as reagan squealed.

“shut your mouth! seungkwans saying something!!” rainbow said, obviously annoyed that reagan was obstructing her ability to hear the exchange.

“can… can i kiss you?” they heard seungkwan say. both looked at each other in shock.

“oh. my. god.” was all rainbow could say.

“i think we should give them some alone time,” reagan suggested as she tugged rainbow down the hall.

“i think we need some alone time for ourselves,” rainbow said as reagan pushed her into a random room and locked the door behind them.

#kpop #seventeen #stray kids #svt #skz #fanfic #guys i am so sorry #seungkwan #jisung #boo seungkwan #han #han jisung #a birthday gift #miyuuraiura #for you 💕#han jisung x boo seungkwan #jisung x seungkwan #han x seungkwan

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artificialqueens · 3 years ago

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Somewhere in the Crowd There's You (Rosnali) - Joley

(bonus: denali's playlist for rosé)

ao3 link