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howtosingit · 3 years

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Fic: And Every Birthday After

TK makes a decision about his relationship with Carlos.

AU after 1x05.

3K | Also on AO3

A/N: This is up a day later than I wanted it to be, but considering it’s the first thing I’ve written in two months, I’m still going to take it as a win. Happy reading!

- - - - -

TK climbs out from the car, his eyes on his phone as he shouts a quick “thank you” over his shoulder to his Uber driver before closing the door behind him. The car pulls away from the curb as he glances up at the glowing Austin Police Department sign before him, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth while he thinks about what he wants to do next.

With another look down at his phone to check the time, he nods, turning his back on the precinct to cross the street. It doesn’t take him long to find what he’s looking for: Carlos’s blue Camaro draws attention no matter where the police officer parks it.

TK gently runs his fingers along the shiny, unblemished surface, his attention divided between the car in front of him and the building across the street. Carlos should be appearing any moment, fresh off his shift, and TK smiles as he leans back against the door, crossing his arms in front of his chest, trying to adopt a casual pose. He can practically hear Carlos’s laugh now, his brain supplying him with the memory of the last time he failed to casually lean against the Camaro, while they waited for Paul outside the 126.

(TK thinks that just because Carlos has perfected the art of a casual lean, he shouldn’t get to laugh at those who are still learning.)

“TK?”

He’s so lost in his memories of that night - dancing close to Carlos in the club and sneaking kisses whenever the lights left them in the shadows - that he misses when the man himself appears right in front of him. TK jumps when he hears his name to find Carlos already halfway across the street, heading right for him.

“Hey there, officer,” he calls.

“What are you doing here?” Carlos asks, and TK’s eyes shift down just in time to see Carlos hide a giant green gift bag behind his back. “I thought we were meeting a little later.”

“We were, but I got out of work earlier than I planned and thought I’d surprise you.”

TK waits for Carlos to come a little closer, maybe even give him a kiss the way he usually does, or at the very least a smile, but the officer does none of those things. Instead, Carlos stops a few feet away from him, his beautiful brown eyes wide as he presses his lips together in a tight line. TK notices the gift bag peeking out behind his back, fidgeting in his fingers. “Did someone get you a gift?” TK asks, breaking the weirdly awkward silence with his mounting curiosity.

Carlos freezes for a nearly imperceptible moment, looking like he’s been zapped by his own stun gun, before he lets out a sudden high-pitched laugh, his face morphing into a mask of forced normalcy. “Oh, this?” he asks, pulling the bag out from behind his back. TK watches as his eyebrows furrow - truly an adorable sight - as Carlos glances between the bag and TK. “This is from my boss, for Employee Appreciation Week.”

A smile suddenly appears on Carlos’s face as he steps closer, swinging the bag at his side before wrapping an arm around TK’s waist and pulling him in. TK goes willingly, his brain still trying to catch up to Carlos’s abrupt mood shift, and lets Carlos press their lips together in a chaste kiss.

“Thank you for surprising me,” Carlos murmurs against his mouth. “Seeing you was exactly what I needed after today.”

“Long shift?”

Carlos hums in reply, stealing another quick kiss before backing away to pull his keys from his pocket. “Something like that.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later,” Carlos admits. TK notices the way his eyes are twinkling under the streetlights. “Right now I’m starving. Did you finally decide on a place to eat?”

“What do you think of that Greek place on Lavaca?”

“I think,” Carlos starts once they’re both in the car, tossing the gift bag in the back seat before leaning over the console to invade TK’s personal space, “that if that’s what you want, then that’s exactly what I want.”

TK lets out a breath at Carlos’s claim, a feeling of contentment running through his body from head to toe. He feels Carlos’s hand on his cheek, his breath on his face. It’s overwhelming in the best possible way.

“You’re kind of sickeningly sweet, you know that?” TK teases, pressing forward to steal another kiss.

“That doesn’t sound like a complaint,” Carlos fires back, his eyes crinkling as a cocky smile takes over his face.

“You’re far too confident.”

“Now I know that’s not a complaint,” Carlos smirks, his eyebrows practically dancing.

“Shut up,” TK whispers, claiming Carlos’s lips again to ensure that he does just that.

- - - - -

“No, I’m telling you, Paul actually said that, no hesitation whatsoever. It was pretty badass.”

“Sounds like it. Though, I’m guessing Marjan didn’t really appreciate it, did she?” Carlos asks, pulling the front door closed behind him as TK flips on the light before toeing off his shoes.

“Oh, she definitely did not. I kind of thought flames were going to shoot out of her eyes, she looked so pissed.” He flops down on the couch, pulling his feet up to get comfortable.

“I know I’ve only met her on calls, but I can still picture that face so perfectly,” Carlos laughs, cutting through the room to the kitchen, where he drops his gift bag on the counter before opening the refrigerator. “I have cake for dessert, if you want any?” he asks, glancing back over at TK.

“Oh my god, yes,” TK moans, pulling himself off the couch and towards the alluring appeal of something disgustingly sweet. He drops his phone on the table before taking a seat on one of the barstools, watching as Carlos pulls out a small chocolate bundt cake before reaching into the freezer for a pint of vanilla bean ice cream. He flits about the kitchen with a casual ease that TK is more than happy to observe, his eyes drawn to his striking figure. There isn’t a single part of Carlos that TK doesn’t like, and he knows he could sit and watch the other man every minute of every day and never get bored.

He gives himself a little shake, trying to clear his head, and his eyes land once again on the gift bag sitting on the counter next to him.

“So,” he starts, his tone laced with curiosity, “what exactly does APD give their best patrol officers for Employee Appreciation Week anyway?” He smirks, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure it’s got nothing on AFD, we all know firefighters have you badges beat.”

It’s not something he really believes in - the whole firefighters versus police officers rivalry - but that doesn’t mean that he and Carlos don’t like to joke about how they’re “sleeping with the enemy” every now and then. It’s even made for some very satisfying, competitive moments in bed, though they’re always followed by laughs and kisses and comments about how ridiculous it all is.

TK turns back to Carlos to find him completely frozen for the second time tonight, the ice cream scoop clutched firmly in his hand with ice cream melting down the sides as he looks from the bag to TK.

This time, TK doesn’t let it go unnoticed.

“What is it with you and this gift?” he asks, reaching out to flick the bag with his finger. “You’ve been acting weird about it all night.”

Carlos swallows, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he drops the scoop back in the carton.

“I lied to you.”

TK stares at him across the counter, taking in the tense set of his shoulders. It’s been awhile since Carlos was this uncomfortable in front of him, and he really doesn’t like it.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, having no idea where this is going.

“This,” Carlos says, pointing to the gift bag as he circles around the island to stand next to TK, “is not a gift for Employee Appreciation Week.”

“Okay, what is it then?”

Carlos stares at him for a moment, his eyes wide, before nodding and taking a deep breath, looking like he’s about to jump off a cliff.

“It’s a birthday present.”

“I don’t understand what…” TK trails off, his confusion disappearing as his brain works to put all of the pieces together: the gift bag in front of him, the chocolate cake and ice cream sweating a few feet away. His mouth goes dry, his heart hammering in his chest. His gaze darts back to Carlos, standing in front of him looking a little terrified but also a little eager, like he’s waiting to see what happens next. “It’s your birthday?” TK asks, his voice tight and barely more than a whisper.

Carlos nods.

“Oh my god, Carlos, it’s your birthday!” TK exclaims.

“It is, it is, but it’s fine, it’s nothing, it’s not a big deal,” Carlos rushes to assure him, reaching out to take his hands in his own.

“Not a big deal? It’s your birthday!” TK cries, trying to figure out what to do with this new information. His brain unhelpfully supplies a detail he had forgotten. “Wait, you’re the one who said we should get dinner together tonight,” TK reminds him.

“Yeah, we both had the night off and I wanted to see you,” Carlos mumbles, staring down at their fingers, intertwined between them. TK feels his breath stutter in his chest.

“You wanted to spend your birthday with me?” TK hedges, the words uneven as his heart threatens to choke him from where it’s become lodged in his throat.

Carlos wordlessly shrugs, a complete inversion of his confident attitude from just a few hours ago. TK takes a moment to appreciate how layered he is, how he sometimes feels like a million people in one, but how he’s still always Carlos, no matter what. “I like spending as much time as possible with you,” Carlos states, still not making eye contact.

TK lets the words roll through him, feeling the way they light up every single nerve ending in his body. He’s surprised to find that they don’t scare him like he thought they would. Ever since the failed dinner date, they’ve both been careful to keep things from getting too serious. They’ve been having fun, hanging out and exploring Austin before coming back to Carlos’s place to roll around in bed together. They’re friends - TK is sure that Carlos is his best friend - and they’re a little bit more than that.

Maybe TK’s finally ready to face the reality of what that could mean.

He thinks about finding out about his dad’s cancer diagnosis a few weeks ago, and how Carlos was the first person he ran to with the news. He remembers how Carlos talked him down from his uncontained anger and hurt, how he held him tight when he cried.

Carlos was there for him when he needed him. TK’s only known him for a few months, but Carlos has always been there, strong and steady and grounding. A beacon of safety and comfort.

And TK knows that he wants to be there for Carlos in the exact same way. He honestly can’t imagine being anywhere else, now that he really thinks about it.

“Come here,” he says, tugging gently on Carlos’s hands to pull him closer, opening his legs for Carlos to stand between them. Carlos lets out a sigh, moving to place his hands on TK’s waist when TK wraps his arms around his shoulders. They rest their foreheads together, taking a moment to stare at each other, truly open and honest for maybe the first time.

“Happy Birthday, Carlos,” TK whispers, waiting for Carlos’s smile to break through his frown before leaning in to steal it from his lips.

His breath catches again as their tongues tangle, their bodies sinking into each other as they give into their embrace. Every kiss with Carlos is worth writing a poem about, if TK was the type of person to write poetry, but this one would definitely inspire TK’s best work. He has a feeling that it’s because of him; he knows that Carlos gives his everything every time, but it’s TK who is now meeting him there with his whole heart. It’s like the wall that he’s put up has fallen away, crumbled to dust in the blink of an eye. Honestly, TK can’t even be bothered; no wall stood a chance against Carlos Reyes anyway.

Carlos pulls away much sooner than TK thought he would, and as his eyes blink slowly open, he finds the other man staring at him, his brows furrowed once more.

“Are you mad that I didn’t tell you?” Carlos asks, his voice tight.

“No,” TK assures him immediately, reaching up to cup Carlos’s face in his hands. He feels the way Carlos sinks into his hold, letting him take some of his weight, like he trusts TK to keep him upright. “I’m not mad, Carlos. Though, I do wish I would’ve known.”

“I know,” Carlos sighs, reaching up to grip his wrists, dragging his thumbs along TK’s skin. “I know, I should’ve told you. It just… I didn’t want to make it a whole thing, spending my birthday together. I didn’t want to freak you out, I know you’re not looking for that kind of thing, I know this is just us having fun and I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything…” Carlos trails off, his grip tight as if he’s scared TK will jump up and run out of the house again.

TK feels Carlos’s fear as if it’s hammering against his heart, but he definitely can’t blame the other man for his thoughts. Their past mistakes are all the evidence he needs to understand why Carlos hid this from him. He nods, biting his bottom lip, trying to figure out how to make it clear that he feels differently now, that he actually wants this to be a whole thing. That they’re on this path together now.

The idea comes to him so suddenly that he almost barks out a relieved laugh. Instead, he smacks a quick kiss against Carlos’s lips before jumping up from the stool, watching as Carlos’s eyes widen in panic.

“Wait, what-”

“I think I know how to make sure this never happens again,” TK interrupts, continuing to hold Carlos’s face in his hands as he backs him up a few steps towards the dining table. He pushes Carlos against it, taking pleasure in the way the other man automatically widens his stance, allowing TK to step between his legs and press their hips together. Without a word, he reaches down to grab his phone, smirking as he brings it up between their faces.

“There,” TK says a moment later, turning his phone to show Carlos, who has stayed silent and slightly terrified this entire time, if his face is anything to go by. He looks over at the screen. “Now I’ll never miss your birthday again.” TK can tell the moment that he processes what he’s seeing, watching as Carlos’s face softens and his arms come up to wrap around his waist.

“You want to remember my birthday next year?” Carlos clarifies, and TK is surprised to see tears in his glassy brown eyes. He tosses his phone back down on the table, reaching up to run his fingers along the stunning features of Carlos’s face.

“Babe,” he says, testing out the word for the first time and thoroughly enjoying the way it causes Carlos to vibrate against him, “I want to remember everything about you.”

There’s barely any warning before Carlos is on top of him, their lips attached once again as Carlos lays claim to him like a man unleashed. TK gives it all back to him, the two of them speaking paragraphs in touches and tastes and sighs and moans. There’s no holding back, not anymore.

When they are finally forced to pull back for air, TK takes pride in Carlos’s disheveled appearance, his curls wild and his face flushed and his lips bruised. He knows he probably looks the same, and he loves seeing the proof of their want and desire and need for each other with his own two eyes. He drags his fingers along Carlos’s plump lips, realizing for the first time that they are his to kiss, for as long as Carlos will let him.

“This is the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” Carlos sighs, and TK meets his eyes to find them blown black but fixed on him, his gaze never wavering.

“While I am obviously very glad to hear that,” TK begins, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his favorite lips again, “you should see what kind of birthday gifts I give when I’ve had time to plan them. I can promise you, you’re not ready for next year.”

“I’m ready for anything, as long as I’ve got you,” Carlos says without hesitation.

TK groans, falling forward to press his face into Carlos’s neck, feeling the vibration of his soft chuckle against his cheek. “You’re so sickeningly sweet, I can’t stand it.” Carlos merely hums, dragging his hands up and down TK’s back to soothe him.

They stay like that for a few moments, just enjoying the way they get to hold one another, before TK pulls back to give Carlos a look.

“Speaking of sickeningly sweet,” he teases, his fingers dancing along Carlos’s thighs on either side of him, “what do you say we take that cake and ice cream upstairs and unwrap some other presents, birthday boy?” He finishes the suggestion with a raise of his eyebrows, watching as the blush on Carlos’s face deepens before he lets out a loud, bright laugh, the two of them falling into each other as they struggle to remain upright against the table.

And TK decides that this, right here, being deliriously happy in Carlos’s arms, is everything that he could ever want or wish for.

On this day, and every birthday they’ll spend together after.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star #tk strand #carlos reyes #I wrote a thing

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nebulablakemurphy · 4 years

Text

Misconception

John Murphy x Emori

Summary: In the aftermath of the last war Emori and John become a family of three.

Warnings: Possible spoilers for the 100 season 7, mentions of child birth.

Earth is nice. A bit different than any of them remember. Quiet, more serene; just the remaining members of the human race and the ocean, for the rest of forever.

The food is much nicer than algae, the ground vaster than the expanse of the tin can they’d called home for six years.

Yet not as luxurious as the castle they’d occupied in Sactum. But this is home, this is where they put roots down. This is where they’re going to live.

It’s been about three months, since judgement day. Death, transcendence, and everything in between.

Emori still loves catching her fish, proudly displaying them to anyone within shouting distance.

Her body is beginning to fill out, just the slightest bit. In a way that assures John she’s not hungry. She’s happy, and healthy, and wants for nothing.

Days are spent with friends, that have become family. Nights are reserved for themselves, more often than not, ending up a spent pile of limbs on their makeshift mattress.

“John?” Emori mumbles, still basking in the after glow of their love making. “Are you sleeping?”

“Emori, I love you,” Murphy sighs, bonelessly curled around her back, “but I’m gonna need a few more minutes before I’m good to go again.”

“Not that,” Emori huffs a laugh.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, toying with the fingers of her badass hand.

“If something happens to me-“

“Nothing’s gonna happen.” John says, reassuring himself as well. Emori is fine, she will be fine.

“I need to know that you won’t try to-“

“Hey,” John stops her a second time. “Baby, nothing is happening to you.“

Emori pauses, then forces the words past her lips. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence. Deafening silence.

Murphy clears his throat. “Jackson knows?”

“Confirmed it this morning.” She nods, staring down at her hands.

“We have Sanctum.” He reasons, “all the medicine there.”

“We do.”

“Then we’ll...figure the rest out.”

“Is this alright, John?” Emori asks, with bated breath.

“All those years on the ring, when we were playing primes; the timing was bad. Always a war to fight, people to save. Now, all we have is time.” He pauses, hoping the right words will come. “I don’t love the idea of sharing you, but if it’s with our kid, you won’t catch me complaining. What I should be asking, is if this is alright with you?”

Emori allows the corners of her mouth to curl into a smile. “I want this baby, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

John takes a steadying breath, placing a hand over the barely there bump. “You and this baby will have everything you want.” He kisses her shoulder, speaking directly against her skin. “I promise.”

“You’re what I want.” Emori whispers, resting her hand over his.

———————————————————

Emori is well on her way to the second trimester; but the nausea still gets the best of her on occasion. Causing her to just miss Raven’s shoes, as she purges the contents of her lunch onto the sand.

“You feeling alright?” Raven asks, immediately. “Should I get Murphy?”

“No, I’m fine.” Emori insists, with a shake of her head.

“That’s the second time this week.” Raven is not so easily convinced. “Jackson should check you out.”

“Jackson has,” Emori purses her lips. “Nothing to be concerned about. I’ll survive a little morning sickness, even if it does last past morning.”

“You’re-“ The mechanic breaks off. “You and Murphy? How?”

“After years of walking in on us, you know how.” Emori rolls her, brown, eyes.

“Well, congratulations. Right?” Raven claps Emori’s back, lightly.

Congratulations...yes, that’s right. “Thank you.”

“How far along?” The brunette leans in, with renewed interest.

“Almost three months.” Emori tells her.

“Have you thought about names yet? Because I think Raven could be unisex.”

Emori let’s out a laugh. “I’ll be sure to mention it to John,” she teases. “But I think you’ll be our only Raven.”

“It was worth a shot.” The woman shrugs. “Hey, do you want to see what I’ve been working on?”

“No nuclear reactor or toxic radiation involved?”

“Why would you think that?” Raven snarks.

“Then yes,” Emori agrees, “I’d love to.”

————————————————————

“Hey,” John greets his love, when she enters their hut. “Good day?”

“Raven and I are working on a pipe system that will pull drinking water from the valley. We’ll be able to get it from a tap.” Emori grins, a bit of pep in her step, as she comes to lie beside him. Pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Exciting.” Murphy deadpans, leaning into her warmth.

“It means actual showers, John.” Emori stares down at him, propped up on one elbow. “No need for the lake or running back to Sactum.”

“I thought you liked sneaking off to Sanctum.” Murphy nuzzles the underside of her jaw.

“I miss Kaylee’s bed.”

“Maybe Raven can build you one of those.” He jest, crossing both legs at the ankle.

“Speaking of Raven,” Emori trails off. “She suggests that the baby should also be named Raven. I told her I’d run it by you.”

“Yeah...” Murphy narrows his eyes, “not gonna happen.”

“I don’t think we should name this baby after anyone, living or dead.” Emori admits. “Bringing honor to the people we’ve lost is much bigger than that. With this baby, we start over.”

“I want that too, Em; to start over.” John whispers, there are so many things he would do differently now. “Do you have any actual names in mind, for our bundle of joy?”

“Not yet.”

“We’ll come up with something.” They’ve got time. “If not, hey you, should be sufficient.”

“Very funny.” Emori frowns, feeling her stomach turn.

“You ok?” John takes her face in his hands.

“A little nauseous, it’ll pass.”

“Be nice to your mother.” Murphy insists, attention now directed at Emori’s belly. “I’d like to keep her around.”

————————————————————-

Days turn into weeks, Emori’s bump grows. There is no hiding it now, even if she wanted to. The others have been very supportive, offering their babysitting services, when the time comes.

Emori flips back the flap of their shelter, waddling over to their bed and flopping down, without a word.

“Rough day?” Murphy asks, coming to sit beside her.

Emori offers a groan, in response.

“Should I massage your feet or something?”

“Or something,” she grumbles, “my back hurts.”

“Say no more.” John eases skilled fingers over the skin of her back. Applying slight pressure to the tense muscles. “One back rub coming right up.”

Emori sighs, relaxing into his touch.

“We should revisit names. Hey you, could make their big debut anytime now.” He murmurs, their child responds to his voice, with a swift kick.

“What are you thinking?” Emori wonders, resting her hand against the fluttering life in her abdomen.

“Odessa.” If she hates it, back to the drawing board.

“It’s beautiful...” Her voice catches in her throat. Saying things aloud makes them real, names make them real. “Are you hoping for a girl?”

“I’m hoping for a healthy baby, and a healthy you.” John annunciates each word for emphasis.

Emori nods, knowing better than to press the issue. “Now we need something for a boy.”

“Lady’s choice.” He kisses the back of her neck.

“Kai?” It’s different and unique, just like their child will be.

“It’s got a ring to it.”

————————————————————-

“John!”

The sound of Emori’s frazzled cry has Murphy chucking his dinner plate aside. Racing for the tree line, where he finds her, perched on a log. One foot bare and elevated off the sand.

He kneels down, taking the raised leg into his lap. “What’s wrong?” John asks, unable to spot an obvious problem. “Did you trip? Something bite you?”

“My shoe fell off and I can’t reach.” Emori informs him, crossing both arms over her chest.

Relieved, he chuckles, “that’s adorable.”

“It’s not.” Emori scowls, “I hate it. Now get the shoe.”

“Oh come on, this is the home stretch. Might as well try to enjoy it.” John will miss her belly brimming with new life. The promise of a future he wasn’t sure they’d have.

“Would you enjoy not being able to see your toes?” Emori snaps. She will do anything for her child, but she misses her independence.

“There are worse things,” he shrugs, bending down to retrieve the shoe. “Besides, I’m more than happy to help.”

“Thank you,” Emori fights back a smile. Watching him complete the task, with a brisk kiss to her lips.

————————————————————

Emori’s pained groan wakes John, from a dead sleep.

“‘Mori?” He grumbles, rubbing at tired eyes.

“Don’t panic,” Emori says, curling in on herself. “I’m having contractions.”

“Yeah?” He springs into action. No false alarm this time. “How far apart?”

“Not far enough.” She attempts to lighten the mood.

“We need to wake up Jackson, and get you to Sanctum. Can you walk?”

“I can try.” She nods, through gritted teeth.

“Never mind, I’ve got you.” Murphy sighs, lifting Emori carefully into his arms.

“Before we go...” Emori stalls, knowing he won’t like what she has to say. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Talking can wait, this can’t.” Murphy replies, moving quickly toward the doctor’s tent.

“If things don’t go as planned and it’s a choice, between me and the baby; you choose the baby. You choose the baby over me, you choose this baby over everyone.”

“Emori, we’re not doing this now.” He shakes his head.

“Promise me, John.” Emori feels tears burning at the back of her eyes, but makes no effort to fight them.

“Emori-“

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.“

“I won’t let anything happen to either of you.” This is the time that everything goes to plan. This is the time it has to.

“Promise me.” Emori’s voice is hoarse, as another contraction seizes her muscles.

“I promise.” He promises that neither of them are going anywhere. Losing Emori once was bad enough.

————————————————————-

They’re back in the operation room, the same one where John lost the love of his life. The equipment is here, poised and ready to go. It only makes sense for it to be here. Fate is cruel that way.

“Alright, Emori,” Jackson touches her knee. “You’re a full ten centimeters. When you feel the next contraction, I want you to push.”

John doesn’t miss the nervous tremor of her bottom lip. “You and me,” he reminds her. ”We’re doing this together.”

“I love you, John.” Emori smiles, through the pain. Then taking a deep breath in, she bears down.

“I love you too.” Murphy whispers, squeezing her hand tightly. Although it kills him to see Emori in pain, John remains calm and focused. This time it’s for something, this time she isn’t dying. “Good job, baby.”

They continue on like this, until her limbs are heavy with exertion, and his hand has lost all feeling.

The exasperated sound that leaves Emori’s lips, with a puff of air, is bearable. The tortured whimper that follows makes John wish he could do it for her.

“Emori, you’re doing great.” Jackson assures her. Stealing a glance at the beeping monitors beside the bed. “But I’m starting to see signs of fetal distress.”

“What’s that mean?” Murphy demands.

“It means we’ve gotta move this baby.” Jackson confirms both of their fears.

“I’m trying,” Emori says.

“What if she can’t?” John asks, watching fear and defeat paint her features.

“Then the only option would be a cesarean section.” None of them want that. But they have the equipment, he has the experience.

“Look, no offense, but we all remember what happened the last time you pulled something out of her.”

“This is different.” Jackson reminds him, “no internal damage.”

“We’ve been at this for hours, maybe Jackson’s right,” Emori agrees. Anything for this baby.

“I know you’re tired. But I need you to finish strong. Our baby needs you to finish strong. When the next contraction comes, you’re gonna push like hell, and we’re gonna have this baby.” Murphy insists, helping her lean up, so that he can climb onto the table behind her, for support. Her back now resting against his chest, with his legs bracketing hers.

“Ok,” Emori nods, adjusting her grip on John’s hands. “But if it doesn’t work-“

“It will work.” It has to. John rests his cheek against hers. Feeling Emori’s body begin to tense with the next contraction. “3,2,1, go.”

Through gritted teeth, Emori finally manages to move the stubborn baby down. Of all the birthing positions they’ve tried, this one finally seems to help a bit.

“Here comes the head,” Jackson announces.

“That’s what I’m talking about, Emori.” John kisses her sweat damp temple, her head clunking back onto his shoulder. “Deep breath, do it again.”

The scream that follows could raise the dead, full fear and desperation and then-

A second voice joins hers, much smaller and higher in pitch. A baby, their baby. Announcing it’s arrival to the world.

“Hey, you’re done.” Murphy says, grounding her to reality. “You did it.”

“I did it,” she smiles, peeling her eyes open.

Jackson places the wailing child on her chest.

Still covered in dark blood, she is the most perfect, wonderful, thing either of them have ever seen.

“Hi baby,” Emori let’s tears fall freely, “my baby.”

“Get a load of you, beautiful.” Murphy whispers to the infant. Her tiny eyes are open wide, trying to focus on the sound. “Welcome to the world.”

“She’s got your eyes.” Emori would recognize that color blue anywhere.

“You ok?” John asks, noticing how lax she’s become.

“Fine.” Emori assures him. “Tired, but fine.”

“Everything alright down there, doc?” He calls to Jackson.

“Everything’s good.” The doctor is all smiles. “Once she delivers the placenta, I’ll stitch her up and we’re all clear.”

Both their heads snap toward him.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got anesthetic this time.” Jackson clarifies.

Relieved Emori sinks back into John, humming to the newborn, who is beginning to stur.

————————————————————-

The sleepless nights are endless. Leaving the first time parents worried that maybe they aren’t cut out for this. Maybe they aren’t doing enough. But after a few weeks, they fall into a routine.

Odessa is a happy baby, with her father’s eyes and a head full of chestnut curls. She resembles Emori for the most part, which pleases John to no end. The little girl has everyone wrapped around the tiny fingers of her badass hand.

“Did you teach her to fish yet?” John calls, spotting Emori at the shoreline. Holding their daughter to face the waves, basking in the orange glow of the setting sun. “She’s gotta start pulling her weight around here,” he jests. Closing the distance between them, to caress Odessa’s chubby cheek.

“She might be a little young to cast a net.” Emori laughs, feeling John press a kiss to her head. “But she’ll learn.”

The eleven month old kicks her legs, reaching out for her father. “Dada.”

“She wants you.” Emori takes a step toward him.

“Not your finest decision, kid.” He mutters, under his breath. Taking the little girl into his arms. “I’d much rather be held by your mother.”

Emori smiles at the scene before her. Their daughter latches onto Murphy’s nose, with her right hand. “Fatherhood suits you, John.”

“I don’t know about all that.” The only thing that he knows for sure, is that he can’t mess up. He can’t mess her up.

“I do.” Emori assures him.

Murphy stares at his wife, with nothing but adoration and wonder; their child in his arms. “We should do this again sometime.” He nods toward Odessa.

“Funny,” Emori raises her brows. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Misconception taglist: @arcticaid @camilahopper05 @silver-gold-copper

#emori the 100 #john murphy x emori #john murphy #memori #emori x murphy #emori kom spacekru #john murphy fanfic #the 100 spoilers #the 100 season seven #the 100 imagine #the 100 fanfiction #memori fanfiction #memori fic #Christinawritesthe100

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sneyrwrites · 4 years

Text

|Power Within|Kuroo x Reader.

✘ Genre: Fantasy! Au

✘ Warnings: Cursing

✘ Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader.

✘ Part: 0.5/ ?

✘ A/n: My heavily sleeped deprived brain came u with this concept and i had the urge to write it, so i hope you enjoy!

WARNING:

This story is under construction, and it will take some time for it to be ready for release. I’m posting the prologue to have some pressure to finish it and hoping to get any kind of feedback from the readers!

Kuroo knew the sound of the shuffling cards brought Kenma a sense of comfort. His friend smiled a little more and his pupils sharpened every time the stack separated into three neat piles in between them.

These monthly readings had become a sort of ritual between the both of them since Kuroo had become a Coven leader after Nekomata retired three years ago. They were reassuring to Kuroo and it gave him a way to fit spending time with his friend into his crazy schedule as the coven leader.. Meetings, reunions, diplomatic issues with the other three races and the constant need for budgets the Potion makers demanded being approved. Kuroo didn’t have time to practice his magic like he used to before.

But the full monday a month he could give to his friend was enough to help ease a little of his stress.

Kenma had a way with Tarot cards, Kuroo was glad that he was able to find his magical affinity.As a late bloomer it took Kenma a long time to feel comfortable around the coven, no matter how much Kuroo tried to break into his shell. He remained the same introverted boy, until he stumbled upon divination and all its varieties when they turned 18.

Kuroo had found his tendency towards potions and specifically healing potions when he was around fourteen, and he knew Kenma was silently in pain because of that, but he did all he could to integrate him into the coven. The long wait was worth it in the end. Kenma was the best cartomancer in the Coven, with his reading being able to predict things precisely, and his ability to interpret the magical energy from the cards allowed him to perceive specific details and images.

The orange curtains partially blocked the sunlight coming in through the windows, tinting everything in sunset colours even though it was the early morning. They were the only two members of the Coven wandering around in the main building during those cold autumn days. The smell of myrrh and a hint of vanilla in the air not coming from the incense, but from Kenma’s magic, gave the room a placid atmosphere.

Kuroo smiled as the cards re-stacked themselves and then started to spread in the characteristic way they always did, prompted only by Kenma’s will, not even needing him to cast a spell.

Three cards laid out in front of them facing down, and everything felt normal. Kenma flipped the first two revealing the emperor and the cart, both signifying a successful month ahead of them. Kuroo knew a little of tarot himself, just enough to get a general sense, but the practice never called him, potion making snatching his full attention.

Kenma’s hand reached for the third card but stopped right above it, not even touching it. A furrow settled in his brows and his pupils sharpened, to the point where they were barely noticeable. The air in the room went stagnant, and the magical energy tingled Kuroo’s skin. Something changed.

“What the f…?” The quiet murmur of confusion coming from Kenma only fueled his unease. “That’s weird… Who…?” His frown deepened.

“What is it?” The urgency in his voice was almost tangible and by the pointed look Kenma sent his way, totally unhelpful. “The reading was going well right?”

“Yeah.” Kenma hesitated, a small flash of fear behind his eyes. His still stretched out hand trembled. “But som…” He couldn’t finish

The stack that was calmly next to him flew up in the air, followed by the other three remaining cards. A spicy smell overpowered Kenma’s, alerting us that another magical presence had entered the room, manipulating the deck in a way that was unheard of.

Kuroo could only watch as the cards wildy flew around the room re-arranging and mixing. Kenma looked shocked, as his eyes tried to follow every single change. The thought that Kenma wasn’t the one manipulating them made a cold and heavy feeling, like an iceberg drop in his stomach.

Was it a Hex? Was someone trying to break the spell protecting the coven’s building? No, if that was the case the alarms would go off. Either way he was going to call Wakatoshi and ask him to check and reinforce it

After what felt like a lifetime the cards finally stacked themselves up in the middle of the table, settling the room in a tense and heavy silence both of them were afraid to break. His heart was beating erratically and a cold sweat beaded on his forehead. What was even going on? He took a look at the clock on the wall, it read 5:40 am. Not even ten minutes had passed since they started.

Kenma reached for the stack but, as soon as he hovered his hand above them, he pulled it away, as if the Tarot Cards had burned his skin. Kuroo watched in disbelief as his friend rubbed the palm of his hand, a hurt expression morphing his face. Now he was really worried. The cards never had done that to him before, normally it was the opposite, the cards welcomed Kenma and almost buzzed when he manipulated them.

“They want you to flip them…” Disbelief tinted his words, and he looked so frail and dejected it almost pained Kuroo. “I can’t touch them.”

“Is it okay if i…?” Kuroo was apprehensive about touching Kenma’s deck. It was his most prized possession, and he cared for them with his life. Touching them made Kuroo feel all kinds of dirty and unworthy.

“Go ahead… Something bad is going on.” The resolve in Kenma’s voice appeared out of nowhere.

The cards didn’t lash out at him when his fingers brushed the smooth surface of the card on top. He flipped the first and suppressed a gasp.

The burning tower and the man falling to the ground made Kuroo sweat even more. The falling tower was never a good sign in a future reading.

Kenma sharply inhaled as he observed the deck. Kuroo willed his hand to stop shaking and he flipped the second card over. The devil card delivered even more bad news. He knew the basic meaning, but by the way Kenma hissed and brought his hand to his forehead it meant something more.

“Are you okay? Too overwhelming?” Kuroo got up, and was about to make his way to Kenma's side but he stopped him with a sign of his hand, recomposing quickly after a moment.

“I'm fine, the energy got a little hectic back there and bombarded me with blurry images... Flip the third one.” Kuroo flopped down at the command of his friend, watching him intently.

He had never seen Kenma as unnerved as he was in that moment. His lip was tightly imprisoned between his teeth and Kuroo worried he might draw blood if he kept pressing it so tightly. But there was nothing to do besides go with it. A fist was clamping his hear, filling himt with fear for whatever the next card would predict. Anticipation was thick in the air and after a sharp intake of air, he willed his hand to grab the third and final card of the reading.

The blasting ringtone from his phone made him jolt in his seat, the somber mood completely broken by the upbeat tone of “Everybody wants to be a cat” from The Aristocats. His heart had risen to his throat, and he felt the rapid pulse in his neck, slightly deafening him, overpowering the ringtone. He exchanged a doubtful glance with Kenma, afraid whatever the cards predicted had started already.

Tendou’s face popped in the screen, and he worried even more. The Seer was his friend, but such an early call was out of character from him.

“It's the Seer... I wonder what he wants. He usually sleeps until 2pm....” His eyes searched Kenma’s once more and with the nod from his friend he unlocked his phone and took the call.

“Hello Hello, Kuroo-san…” Tendou’s cheery voice erupted from the speaker and he cringed at the tone. “ I see Kenma and you are in the middle of a reading. Get it? See... I'm the Seer, never mind...” He cleared his throat and his mischievous tone disappeared in the next sentence. “ Cleanse the room after you finish, Gaia visited me and that’s never a good sign.” That little sentence felt as if an anvil had fallen on him. The knot in his throat grew.

Now of all times, when he was in charge of 700+ people, Gaia decided to present herself to Tendo and warn him.? Shit was about to hit the fan.

“Flip the next card Kuroo.” He followed the instructions and the Sun card appeared. “Huh... Maybe Gaia was wrong...” The confused tone came from the phone… “

“Should you be disrespecting the goddess like that Tendou-san?” Kenma’s eyes were lost, almost as if he was observing something that wasn’t there as he spoke

“Oh, Kenma-kun, you worry too much.” He stopped for a second “But still, both of you, be careful, and please, try not to lash out too much on her Kuroo… Or else things could get really ugly really fast.” He warned.

“What do you mean Tendou?” Kuroo asked, worry once more tainting his voice “Who?”

“Gaia, I’m sleepy. Gotta go guys, let’s play later Kenma! I’ll be jungler this time, bye bye!” The dialing tone silenced any further questions they could have.

Kuroo stared at his screen in shock.

“It's too early for this shit.” Kenma's sigh grabbed his attention. “ I need a coffee... Let's go to Starpups...” He proposed with a disinterested tone.

“Are you really thinking about coffee in a moment like this? Are you kidding Kenma?” Kuroo felt like throwing up from the emotional rollercoaster he just went through, and his friend wanted to get a coffee?

“What else can we do really? The only thing I got from that reading was the smell of spicy ramen and a flash of red. I can’t really think of anything right now.” Kenma's eyes held some doubt behind them, but Kuroo let it go. “Grab your talisman and let's go.”

“Why my talisman?” he never used it when going out for coffee

“Just do it, trust my gut...” Kenma sent him a pleading look, his eyes letting him know there was a solid reason behind his concern.

Kenma turned around and practically bolted out of the room. Sighing, Kuroo gave the cards on the table a dirty look and lit the incense on fire, hoping to cleanse some of the residual energy in the room, before leaving as well.

He felt as if some of that spicy magical energy lingered on his skin, even after he closed the door behind him

CHAPTER 1 SNEEK PEAK

“Listen you f…” His startled gasp cut your colorful string of curses. Following his eyes you noticed the thick black cloud of smoke. That was coming from your sleeve, which was on flames. “What the fuck dude! Put it out!” You desperately tried to put the flames off, but they wouldn’t budge.

A startled cry left your lips when the flames grew and almost lashed out to the man, as if they had a mind of their own. He barely dodged the hit, the tip of his tie getting a little singed.

“It wasn’t me I swear! I’m not an elementari I’m just a cartomancer!” He looked almost as freaked out as you after that. “ Why did you start a fire!? Is there a counter hexer in here!?”

“Yeah, like it’s my favorite activity to set myself on fire!” You whined, waving your arm around as the flames crept up.

“She seems fine...” a soft and monotone voice stated, and a guy poke his head from behind the tall man. His blond dyed hair showing quite a large amount of dark roots and styled in a half bun. His eyes were also sharp and attentive sporting the same style of pupils and irises. They seemed to pierce your very soul

The tall and worried man in front of you scanned your face, and you took a second to study his features. His jaw was sharp and his nose straight, with high cheekbones and cute lips.

He was hot, and his messy hair with black locks spiking up in odd places and partially falling over his forehead was way too wild to be just a consequence of the merciless wind that picked up that autumn morning. And it did wonders to make him look even more appealing.

#Kuroo x reader #haikyuucreations #Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #Kuroo Tetsurō #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfic #kuroo fanfic #Power within Kuroo #tetsurou kuroo #Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo fantasy au

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talltales · 4 years

Photo

—OPEN CHARMS ARE LOST ON VELVET; M'AIDEZ THIS MY M'AIDEZ, M'AIDEZ THE HIGHER WE CLIMB THE SMALLER WE SEEM, MAD WITH POSSIBILITY request by @jjpmoans!!

la faim, la soif et la chaleur vont de pair.

despite the unspoken prayer she hears on the tongues of friends and strangers alike; uttered into the unrelentingly humid and overly bright september days, summer lingers. the asphalt burns beneath the soles of her flip-flops; housing heat that wraps around her ankles and clings with heavy tendrils she can feel as she walks.

“maybe we’ll see rain.” the elderly man sitting in front of an abandoned playground says as she passes, his eyes never leave his paper. he flips to the next page, unperturbed by the sunlight bearing upon his hands. the band of his broken watch gleams in the light as he moves.

sweat drips down her back, beneath her shirt and she thinks, maybe.

maybe.

she, like everyone else making their way home, moves quickly and keeps a healthy distance between herself and the nearest warm body. the occasional blast of air conditioning coming from the odd doorway provides welcome relief, if only for the second it takes to pass the threshold.

it’s a luxury that most can’t afford; many of the residents have resigned themselves to languishing under the heat, aided only by bottles of lukewarm water and half-price ice cream cones offered every other block.

the slums are named so for a reason.

the air carries the scent of the odd perfume—vanilla and berries—and something unmistakably human. however hellish it is, there is something beautiful about the cracked city streets and the aged buildings flanking them; tinted in hues of gold-peach and stretching into the clear sky.

they, like the people themselves, stand in open defiance of time and the inherent neglect that comes with existing in such a wretched place.

she finds the thought is strangely satisfying—a boon that holds the faintest smile on her lips as she ducks into the next set of open doors with a passing glance at the fire escape climbing the side of the building. faintly, she spots a wisp of gray-white smoke curling out from a window; a peek of faded denim.

her smile grows into a grin.

the foyer is long disused, an enduring artifact of times past. silently, she ghosts her hand over the notched desk where a door-keeper might have made his living and slips into the old, caged lift. the fractured button beneath her fingertip flickers to life when she pushes it—shining dimly in the shade of the elevator shaft towering above her head. her ride to the fifth floor is quiet, punctuated only by the mechanical clank and groan of the structure as it rises.

as the pen slides open—none too quickly—she tugs her keys from her pocket and finds the right one with the tips of her fingers. the rest jangle uselessly outside of her grip, swinging against the back of her hand. her only guide to the door is memory and the cool, hazy light filtering in through the dust-covered window at the end of the long hallway.

his door—last on the left, beside a strangely thriving pot of lilies—stands out like a beacon; painted in shades of red with a chipped number 9 hanging perilously from a loose nail. she slots the key in and turns it, breathes a sigh as the—barely—cooler air fans outward in a pleasant mimicry of a spring breeze.

“i could almost fool myself into thinking you had air conditioning,” she calls out, because she knows that he’s there; can smell him in the air—amber and smoke—and hear the sound of him shifting beneath the tinny acoustics playing on his radio.

“that illusion will fade with time,” jinyoung retorts, from his perch on the windowsill. he rests against the frame, half on the fire escape with a cigarette held loosely between his fingers. she watches as he takes a drag and sends another column of smoke spiraling into the air, “trust me on that.”

she kicks her sandals off and steps into the space proper, with interlaced fingers resting atop her head, “i believe you, but it’s hell out there.”

her path to him is a winding one. she skirts around the coffee table where his half-dissembled vhs player sits abandoned—another unfinished project taken up in his spare time—and picks up the glass of ice water sitting on the edge. the condensation trails over her fingertips, providing some relief from the thick heat rolling through the open window.

the air is fresh, at least.

“have you been there all morning?” her eyes slide down, taking in the picture he makes with interest. jinyoung has never been overly fond of clothes; many of his afternoons are spent wandering his apartment shirtless, and that much hasn’t changed. he looks comfortable in loose jeans but little else, the single button undone for reasons she doesn’t bother to understand.

for all of his effort to stay cool, however, beads of sweat trail down his jaw and pool in his collarbones. he glistens in the sun, a modern myth come to life, pushing back the dark strands clinging to his forehead.

if there is one good thing to come out of this, it is the sight before her.

“yeah,” his answer comes with a note of exasperation, and she notes the way the hand not holding his cigarette lays on his thigh, tap tapping against the fabric. jinyoung is bored and that never bodes well for his mood.

she takes a sip of his forgotten water and nearly sighs at the sensation of something cool on her tongue.

“pity, you could’ve been on the corners making a little money off this.” she lifts the glass when he turns in her direction, brow raised. the comprehension that crosses his face is tinged with amusement.

“i’m no entrepreneur,” the smoldering light of his cigarette is extinguished in the tray beside him, before he crosses his arms over his chest. she tries not to examine the way his muscles shift beneath his skin.

“there’s a demand. even the balloon seller down the street is raking in a profit.”

jinyoung’s head tilts as a disbelieving laugh—low, a little untamed—slips into the air between them, “how?”

her shoulders lift, though even the effort of shrugging feels like it’s too much. she takes another long sip of his water, then another step closer, “who knows? but you’re missing out, either way.”

“are you going to drink it all?” he sidesteps, watching her swirl the glass thoughtfully. silently, she plucks the few remaining cubes floating in the glass before setting it on the nearest surface—a worn end table that’s certainly seen better days.

it’s a miracle that they don’t melt in her grasp. she carries them like precious cargo, only sparing him a humored look, “i’ll share.”

“there’s nothing in the glass.” he speaks slowly, as if addressing a small child. she merely raises a brow in response. boredom does terrible things to someone like him. jinyoung enjoys keeping his hands busy, because it keeps the darker thoughts at bay—

not everyone thrives in these godforsaken places, but she’s long accepted that he will always be a little angry.

a little bitter.

when he lifts a hand to wipe away the dew clinging to his upper lip, she grasps his wrist with her free hand and holds it, “i’ll share.”

and if he’s a little late in recognizing her intent, she doesn’t blame him. the heat has made her mind sluggish too; she moves mostly on instinct—driven by a base sort of delight with the way he looks, silhouetted in a gold hazy light that makes him look like he’s been touched by divinity.

jinyoung says nothing, merely watching her as she shifts to hold one cube between her thumb and index finger. soon, it follows the curve of his jaw and he jolts, lashes fluttering before he fixes his attention on her face. her focus moves with the melting ice clasped in her hand and the journey it makes down to his chin, before circling up to trace the edges of his mouth.

with little prompting, he parts his lips and she tips the cube onto his tongue and mirrors the movement with the remaining cube —before it melts on her tongue, she leans in and presses her lips to his; smiling against them when he catches the clue swiftly and opens his mouth to her.

she relishes in the coolness his kiss offers; remnants of ice quickly dissolving as he presses closer with an appreciative hum, tilting his head to draw the softest of moans from the back of her throat.

and even when the heat creeps back in—heady and narcotized—she doesn’t dare move away.

la faim, la soif et la chaleur vont de pair.

#request #member + prompt #jinyoung fanfic #got7 fanfic

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satanschild01 · 4 years

Text

No All Might? That’s Alright Prt3

Izuku Midoriya Fanfiction

A/N: In all honesty this took me way too long just to finish writing this chapter, but I pushed through so I guess it’s fine. I’ve created a AO3 account recently and I’ve posted all of my previous fanfictions there so if you want to check me out, you can find me as SatansChild

Hope you all stay safe and wear a mask if you can't physically distance.Hope to update soon!

Catch you on the flip side ~ Em

Photo used in this fic was referenced from original picture from anime, I did draw this photo jtlyk

Tags:

@random-fandom-girl-24

Tags for some wonderful feedback😘: @trashys-things @pink-imagines @marvelmymarvel @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @spaced-out-imagines @marvelmymarvelmain @writingfreakk

Trigger warning: Talk about death

Word Count: 2633

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

After making sure all of the blood was no longer on his uniform, Closing his eyes, Izuku steeled himself to walk into the All Might shrine that was his room. Sure, he still wanted to be a hero, and he admired All Might’s strength, but he couldn’t stand to be surrounded by posters and figurines of a man who couldn’t offer any sort of encouragement to a child who clearly needed it. Izuku pulled some cardboard boxes out from his closet and started filling them with everything All Might. Oboro didn’t make a sound during the time he cleaned out his room, which he was grateful for. Even though he could just feel Oboro wanting to ask questions.

“So what are you going to do about all this stuff?” Oboro asked as Izuku changed his All Might sheets with regular black ones “You seem like such a big fan...it just seems like a waste just to keep it all in boxes.”

Izuku shrugged his shoulders.”I’m not much of a fan anymore.” he lied to mostly himself rather than to Oboro, “I guess I’ll just donate the stuff later.” Once his walls were finally bare, Izuku stuffed the now full boxes to the back of his closet and flopped onto his bed. The room stayed silent for a moment until Izuku broke the ice, “I don’t want to intrude on your personal life…but can you tell me about yourself?” he asked

“Well for the fact that I witnessed and helped you with some pretty deep stuff, it sorta would be rude if I didn’t tell you something about my previous life,” Oboro said cheekily

“H-how long have you been...you know…” Izuku paused not really wanting to complete the question.

“...dead?” Izuku nodded “I was in my second year of high school when I died and I would be 29 by now so...close to 12 years I think?” Izuku sat there on his bed frozen

‘12 years is a long time to be a ghost or spirit to not have passed on, that is if people actually pass onto another place once they die’ Izuku thought to himself

“I was patrolling around Tasomiya Ward with one of my best friends when there was a villain attack...I was working on saving some kids when debris fell on top of me...when I woke up I was like how I am now, I couldn’t find my body anywhere so I just...travelled around…” Oboro seemed to quiet down at mentioning that he never found his body to move onto another life, so Izuku thought of ways to change the current mood of the room.

“So you were a hero in training or something?” he asked, face full of wonder, Oboro hummed in affirmation “What school did you go to?”

“I went to U.A”

“Wait really?!” Izuku exclaimed excitedly, “that's so cool!”

They continued talking and asking questions back and forth, before falling into a comfortable silence. A few minutes past before Izuku took a deep breath

“I...I’m sorry,” Izuku said quietly, slowly curling into himself

"Why would you be sorry kid?" Oboro’s voice was full of confusion. But Izuku only curled in on himself further.

"If it wasn't for me you wouldn't be stuck here." As if anyone wanted to be bound to some stupid Deku...like him. And here he thought it was a whole coincidence that Oboro was with him. But instead, he just took whatever type of freedom he had to begin with.

"Hey, no! Stop that. Izuku that's not true! I'm here because I want to be!" The warmth spread all over him and he couldn't help but lean into it. “I said I'd make a hero out of you and I still plan on it."

Izuku looked up only to see the ceiling of his room, lifting his arm up to the sky and let it just float there (like what every kid does while laying on there bed contemplating on what to do next). "I wish I could see you again."

Oboro hummed. Seeming to think something through. "I don’t think there’s much out there since I was only a second-year when I died, but there could be some photos of me with friends or an article"

Izuku seemed to take that as a challenge as he went to his computer. "What did you choose to be your hero name?"

"Loud Cloud."

After scouring the web for a couple of minutes nothing showed up except for an old article from the Nikkei Shimbun newspaper, reporting the death of hero-in-training Loud Cloud. Izuku quickly exited that site choosing to search for something different. “What’s your full name Oboro?”

“Oh that’s right I didn’t tell you my full name, it is Oboro Shirakumo” Oboro replied

“Oboroshirikumo...oboroshirikumooo….here!” Izuku exclaimed pointing at the monitor’s screen. “This photo was tagged saying ‘Curry eating competition at U.A’s School Festival. Winner Hizashi Yamada from class 2-A!’ it also says the names of the people in the photo are; Shota Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada, and Oboro Shirakumo.”

“Oh, I remember that!” Oboro cried out laughing “The curry was soo spicy I was freaking out because I couldn’t find anything to soothe my burning throat!”

“So that’s you in the back then?” Izuku asked pointing towards a teenager who seems to be freaking out.

Oboro chuckles “Yep, the other two were my best friends!”

“Yamada looks sorta familiar what’s his hero name?” Izukku asked, curious on why the 16-year-old looked so familiar to him

“Unless he changed it before becoming a pro, which he probably would not, his hero name is Present Mic.”

Izuku sputtered “W-wait you were close friends with THE Present Mic?!” Oboro hummed in agreement while Izuku had his miny freak out “

“Oh my god that is socool!Ilistentohisradioshoweveryday,andhe’ssuchanamazinghero,likeevenifheisdeafduetohisquirkhedoesn’tletitbotherhiman-” He stopped hearing the sound of laughter coming around his room and his lamp flickering

"Aw jeez, that’s amazing Hizashi got to get that radio show he wanted." There was a quick blast of warmth flooding around his back and chest resembling a hug. "Well anyway, you should probably head to bed. You have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow and a long way to go before you can have a chance at being accepted into UA!"

"What are you going to do while I sleep?" Izuku asked, eyes slowly drooping.

"I'm going to see how far I can go without being next to you, and have a look around and exploring a bit. No need to worry. I'll make sure to be careful and be here in the morning." He seemed to pick up on his anxieties. Izuku felt warmth as Oboro slowly pet his hair back. "Goodnight, Izuku."

The next morning Izuku woke up to warmth pulsing on his right cheek. "Hey kid it’s time to get up! You have training to do! Up and at ‘em!" Oboro’s voice was overly joyful and Izuku felt very unwilling to get out of bed.

"Mm...just a bit longeeeer." He groaned turning himself over facing away from where he guesses Oboro is standing (floating?).

"Fair warning Izuku my jokes are terrible, everyone at school would always runaway once I started and I haven’t been able to talk to actual people in so long! If spaghetti were to have it’s own action movie, what would it be called?.... Mission im-pasta-ble. What did the pot eat on it’s birthday?....pancakes. What do you call a camel in a drought?....A dry hu- "

Finally, Izuku jerked up, covering his ears. “Okay. Okay, I’m up! No need to finish that.” His face started to burn a light pink across his face, (knowing what the end of the joke was) as he started to kick the blankets off only to turn towards the window and see barely any light outside. "Wha- Oboro!! The sun isn’t even out yet!"

He turned glaring into thin air hoping to make contact with him.

"Yes, it is, Izu. It's just reeeally early in the morning. There is plenty of time for you to get ready and eat before we go out for a morning run!" He was being weirdly energetic about the whole ordeal, but Izuku knew he wouldn't take no for an answer.

Heading to the bathroom, Izuku ran a brush through his wild curly hair and brushed his teeth. Going back to his room, Obroro pipped up. "It's a bit cool outside so I suggest you wear some long sleeves."

The entire way to his closet Izuku muttered incoherent things. In the end, he opted to wear a plain black shorts and a long-sleeved shirt with written kanji saying 'tank-top' with his old dusty sneakers because his red sneakers were still on top of the roof.

Before heading out Izuku ate some toast and an orange. If he got hungry later on their run he could always eat more when they got back. As Izulu started to leave the apartment Izuku tripped over an unmarked box that was just left in front of the door.

"Ooo I wonder what it is!” Oboro seemed quite enthusiastic as Izuku went to open the box revealing his faded red shoes and yellow backpack.

"Wai-how-who found my stuff?" Izuku asked immediately putting the bag by the door and quickly changing between uncomfortable and comfortable shoes.

"I don’t know, when I got back from wandering around the package was just...there."

"Maybe someone found it and found out where I live from my contact info and address was written inside…?” Izuku wondered out loud.

“I guess so,” Oboro said looking to the bright sight of things.

‘But what if it was...All Might. Yeah, I’m glad that I don’t have to go back up there to collect my things but...I don’t want to have to depend on All Might to help me with my own problems.’

“Hey don’t think like that Izu! I know you’re not a huge fan of the guy, but you don’t have to beat yourself down like that. I know you’re better than that” Oboro spoke sternly trying to make a point, but that soon backfired as warmth spread through his body.

“Hold up- could you always hear my thoughts?” Izuku questioned as he started to jog away from the apartment.

“So far I can heat some things. Like your thoughts that way heavily on you emotionally. But it could possibly work to talk to me through your mind. So you don’t look like a freak talking to themselves.” Oboro quickly informs Izuku as to not worry him.

Sighed Izuku. That was true. Though he kept thinking about it as he jogged. As they passed Dagobah Municipal Beach, the sun had started to rise. Taking in a deep breath was the wrong reason as Izuku cringed from the awful smell of garbage. Despite the smell, Izuku took a break, taking a seat at the entrance.

"Oh gross. What is this place?" Oboro asked with a clear sound of disgust in his voice.

"Well," Izuku started."This is Dagobah Municipal Beach Park. It has accumulated trash coming from the sea for years, turning it from a beautiful beach spot into a trash heap for everyone's unwanted or broken belongings." It was really a shame. As a kid, Izuku recalled going to the beach. Lie under a beach umbrella, making sandcastles. But by the time he was tall enough into the water, it was already flooded with trash by then.

"That's terrible." Oboro seemed deeply upset about this actually. It made Izuku want to do something about it. But before Izuku could voice his thoughts Oboro spoke up.

“Hey Izu, could we make a quick visit to a convenience store?”

“Sure...what exactly do you want me to get?” Izuku asked, despite having an idea what Oboro was thinking.

“Well...you’re going to need to get some garbage bags and some gloves.”

Izuku then dashed towards the nearest convenience store with determination in his eyes. A frail-looking lady turned the key to open the doors as he walked by. Causing her to recoil in slight shock, Izuku realized that with his rapid approach he had frightened her. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'd just come to purchase some garbage bags and some gloves.

The older woman seemed to soften something about his face as she smiled and opened his door. "Sure thing, they’re both in the last aisle on your right."

Before she went inside, Izuku thanked her and smiled back. He quickly found what he was looking for and brought a box of trash bags and a pair of workers gloves onto the counter.

"What's the hurry, son? Why do you need trash bags this early in the morning? You aren't trying to cause trouble are you?" the old woman pointed to Izuku with an accusing finger, and he shook his head quickly.

"Oh no, ma'am! I thought that I could just try and clean the beach up! I passed it while I was on my morning run!" Izuku assured, voicing Oboro’s plan

At this, the elder woman gently smiles while scanning the items. “Wow, is that right?” she said astonished, “ You know how long that place has been a mess? What makes you believe you can do it all by yourself?"

Her words weren't really painful, she was just being realistic. He knew she was right. He certainly had no obligation to clean up the beach. He could have just ignored it and easily went about his day. But he knew if he wanted to be a hero then he would need to start off the roots of how heroes came to be. How they used to work. Heroes in the beginning didn’t do what they did for fame. No. They didn’t care for the recognition they would get. They did it because they just wanted to help.

“That’s the thing, ma’am. I thought that it wouldn’t hurt to try. It’s also a great way to work out, instead of having to buy workout equipment or get a gym membership!” Izuku brightly smiles towards the lady as he handed her the money to buy his items.

“Well, I wish you luck, kid. I’m guessing that you’ll need a place to put the trash you collect.” She stated, Izuku smiling sheepishly at her rubbing the back of his head she continued, “There are two dumpsters in the alley behind the store, they get taken every Monday.”

"Thank you, ma'am!" Izuku said genuinely as he headed for the door. He didn't think too much about how he would dispose of the garbage, so it was good to have one offered.

Oboro began to laugh as Izuku jogged back towards the beach. "Cheaper than having to buy workout equipment or get a gym membership! Man, how true that is nowadays!”

The first garbage bags were packed very quickly. broken bottles, cans of beer, old and rotting newspaper, all of it was poured into the trash bag. Plastic, paper, glass, etc. Izuku could take them to a recycling center! He was already pumped about this new project when Oboro spoke up.

“Hey, Izu, before you toss that into the bag” placing his hand on Izuku’s making him feel warmth blossom closest to the soda, can packaging he was holding in that hand. “make sure you cut each circle so if they end up in wildlife again then animals won’t get their heads stuck inside.”

Izuku's eyes lit up as he started to tear apart each loop before placing it in one of the bags used for recycling. Soon Izuku had used up a quarter of the box of trash bags gone and only had 6x5 feet rectangle cleared of the beach.

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wewillwriteyou · 5 years

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Friends Will Be Friends || Chapter 22

I’m In Love With My Car

A few elements from the main plot: A very special group of friends: early days, drama, laughter, booze, success, rock stars life, girl power, friendship, love, sex, music, misunderstandings, some more drama, family. Pairings in the tags

Summary Chapter 22: Roger fights for his song to be on the album: Chelsea’s the only one who can calm him down. Melissa has something very important to tell John.

Word count: 4.4K oof

Warnings: Sooo we have some angst here, curse words then and there, some kissing and mentions of sexual intercourse and then fluff as always

A/N: Hey folks! This is another chapter in that line of experimentation we were telling you about. We hope you understood what we’re doing and that you appreciated it. Honestly, this was SO. FUN, to write! Hope you enjoy yourselves, lovesies 💖 and as usual, if you like what you read, comment, like, reblog and share this with others! For everyone who follows and supports this story, thank you guys (you know who you are)! You are real stars!⭐💗

PS: Note that we took some artistic licences and we adapted some of the stories from Queen’s histories to what we imagine it could have happened. It’s totally a product of our imagination, so don’t take it as facts cause it isn’t, folks. Love you.

Chelsea was quietly whistling with her back resting against the headboard of the bed, peacefully reading a book. She had her hair up in a messy bun and Roger’s flannel was the only thing covering her body. When she turned the page to the new chapter, the bedroom’s door opened and her boyfriend made his entrance. He was wearing a white t-shirt and his black boxers and Chelsea noticed that he still had the towel behind his shoulders while his hair was still a bit wet.

Roger leaned down to give her a sweet kiss on the lips and when he pulled away they both smiled to each other. Chelsea’s eyes soon returned to the book and, after tossing the towel somewhere near the wardrobe, Roger joined her in bed. He leaned back on the mattress and looked up at her, before starting to play with the skin of her arm, caressing it and drawing on it distracted shapes.

“What exactly are you doing?” Chelsea asked him in a chuckle, as she stretched her arm over the nightstand to put there the book.

“Nothing, just admiring how beautiful you look” Roger flirted, getting up to sit beside her. Chelsea rolled her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. He hugged her and gently dragged her down with him on the mattress, covering both of their bodies with the blankets.

“Why don’t we buy a dog?” Chelsea asked staring at the ceiling, while she was caressing Roger’s tummy and chest. He giggled.

“We can. Why not?” he replied, already dreaming of her sitting next to the fireplace of their house with the dog snuggled on her lap. He smiled thinking about that and Chelsea noticed. She sustained herself on her elbow to look at Roger directly in the eyes.

“Has something happened that I don’t know about?” a shiver of preoccupation ran through Roger’s back; did she know about the wedding proposal? “I mean, you’re happier than usual and it’s been a while since we argued” Chelsea added and he relaxed his muscles, understanding she wasn’t suspecting anything.

“First of all, I’m happy because we’re finally going to live together. And, second of all” saying this he rolled over Chelsea to place himself on top of her “I know why you want to argue, you little minx!” she smirked in response and Roger kissed her on the lips with no hesitation.

He was leaving a trail of sloppy, open mouthed kisses down her neck and between her breasts making her giggle, as she could feel his hair tickling the skin of her chest. He came up to meet her face and slowly drew circles on her cheek with his finger. Chelsea opened her lips a bit and, leaning her palms on the back of Roger’s neck, she pulled him closer. It was a slow kiss, they felt like they had all the time in the world in that instant and they surely didn’t want to quicken things up as they were enjoying that playful and sweet moment they were having. Outside the rain was pouring and a thunder was rumbling in the distance, creating a soft atmosphere mixed with the dim light of the room.

“I love you Roger Meddows Taylor” Chelsea whispered on his lips. Roger smiled wider; he kissed her right cheek, then her left one before crashing his lips again against hers. He then let his head fall on Chelsea’s chest and she started striking his hair, as he wrapped his arms around her body.

“If I hadn’t already come into you an hour ago, this would be probably the best moment for a lazy and slow shag” Chelsea slapped him on the shoulder making him laugh out loud as she almost screamed his name in surprise. He crossed his arms on her tummy and rested his chin between them to meet her gaze.

“Is it a problem for you if we don’t use the co–” Chelsea cut him off, rolling her eyes.

“How many times did you already ask me this question? No, it’s not a problem Rog. And no, I’m not trying to persuade you to have a baby” she said in a chanting voice’s tone.

“Okay, okay�� Roger replied, leaning again on her body; he stayed in silence for just a few seconds though and Chelsea chuckled to herself, because she loved that childish side of Roger and loved when he was in the mood of talking about anything “I’ve written an amazing song!” he proudly announced and tilted his head a little bit so that his blue eyes were looking directly into Chelsea’s brown ones.

“Can’t wait to hear it, darling” she softly replied as she felt her eyes getting heavier. Roger noticed that she was falling asleep, so he came back to her side, kissed her forehead and pulled her closer to his chest, where Chelsea snuggled a few seconds before dozing off.

The arms of her boyfriend and the hushed sound of rain tapping on the window accompanied Chelsea through the night, but unluckily the morning wasn’t as sweet and caring as the bedtime.

Loud knocks on the door woke her up, mixed with the rumble of a close thunder. She jumped on the bed and when she stretcher her arm over the other side of the mattress she just found the empty sheets: Roger wasn’t there. She blinked once or twice before getting used to the grey light that was filling the room. Big clouds covered the sky and Chelsea rolled on the other side, sure that it was the perfect day to stay in bed, chilling between the blankets.

The knocks started again and Chelsea was sure she could hear Freddie’s squeaky voice calling her from behind the thick wall. She forced herself to get up and took her time to stretch her muscles as she left the bed; she put on her flip-flops, lazily walked towards the door and opened it wide with a deadly gaze in her eyes.

She didn’t care if her hair was messy or if the flannel was barely reaching her thighs, she stood there with her arms crossed on the chest as she looked at Freddie directly in the eyes.

“What do you want?” a yawn left her lips with her words and she noticed that, rested on the wall of the hallway, Brian was standing there as well with his face hidden under his brown curls.

“Good morning darling. We don’t have time for explanations, we need you downstairs. Now” Freddie announced, taking her wrist and dragging her outside the bedroom. Chelsea looked back at Brian who was silently following them and gave him an interrogative gaze. As a response he scrolled his shoulders and shook his head.

They soon reached the front door and Freddie opened it, but Chelsea stopped herself, causing Brian to softly crush against her.

“I’m practically naked and outside it’s bloody raining! Where the fuck are we going?” she almost shouted, stressed and confused.

“It’s a few water drops, love! And we only have to reach the barn” Chelsea searched once again for Brian’s face, but when he was about to open his mouth, Freddie cut him off “and, as I told you, we need you. So let’s go chaps!” his fingers trapped her arms again and Chelsea found herself walking in the soaking grass under the pouring rain, dragged by Freddie and followed by a pissed and scuffed Brian, who was trying to protect his curly curls from the raindrops.

Chelsea hardly punched Freddie’s shoulder when they finally entered the barn, but when she was about to insult him her eyes saw the complete mess that was surrounding them.

The long, wooden counter in front of the little kitchen where they used to cook eggs and warm up the coffee was completely empty, since every plate, glass or piece of food was shattered on the floor. Next to it John, Mel, Chrissie and Mary were standing in a circle, talking with an animated tone and concerned faces. The worst thing was that the only one that was missing was Roger.

Chelsea immediately approached them.

“What happened here?” she asked in a rush, joining her friends.

“Chel! Thank God you’re here” Mary started rubbing her arm, but John cut her off with so much attitude in his voice that Chelsea barely recognized him.

“Your boyfriend destroyed everything! And that’s not even the whole thing” Mel interrupted him and Chelsea felt like she was witnessing a tennis match, constantly turning her head from a face to another.

“He was angry because the boys didn’t want to put his song on the album and now-”

“We don’t want to put that song because it’s fucking ridiculous! I’m not gonna ruin my fucking masterpiece with that shitty thing!” Freddie’s voice recalled everyone’s attention and they all turned around to see that he was approaching them with Brian.

“Let me correct you, Fred, that’s our masterpiece” Brian intervened with a pissed tone.

In a moment they were all arguing and shouting at each other’s faces. Chelsea looked at Chrissie that was as speechless as her; they shared a similar gaze, as the redhead shook her head in disappointment, massaging her temple with her right hand.

“Enough!” Chelsea shouted, and everyone immediately stopped with the quarrels and they look at her in silence; she recomposed herself before speaking up “I just want to know where the fuck is Roger now” a series of gazes flew in the air and they all nodded and shook their heads. Chelsea was confused, as she could tell they were all quite amused by her question and she couldn’t understand why.

Brian pushed Freddie, who breathed heavily before walking closer to Chelsea. He gently put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed them softly.

“Darling” dramatic pause, as if he needed the same air someone needs before jumping into a pool “your boyfriend locked himself in the fucking cupboard” the others giggled and Chelsea could see that John and Brian were struggling to contain the laughter.

“What?” it was the only thing that came out from Chelsea’s mouth, as she could feel the chuckles growing bigger in her chest. Without adding anything, Brian took her by the arm and guided her to the room right next, where they used to keep the food.

As they all stepped in, Chelsea noticed that the cupboard had been emptied and she started to seriously believe that Roger was there. The situation was starting to get funnier minute by minute.

“Now Roger, tell Chelsea that you’re in there so she will finally see what a fucking idiot you are” Freddie screamed in front of the cupboard.

“You fucking called her, you fucking prick!” Roger’s voice squeaked from the inside and that was enough for Chelsea to let go as she started laughing out loud.

“Baby are you being serious?” she tried to say between the laughter, as she was pressing her hand on her tummy and wiping away a tear from her eye.

“Yeah honey. I’m sorry you had to witness this, but I’m not going to give up. That song is so fucking amazing and they’re just being assholes”

“Roger, it’s a song about a car” John said, crashing his palm on his forehead.

“About fucking a car, if I may add” Chrissie commented chuckling.

“That’s not true! What the fuck are you talking about?” Roger shouted and his voice came out raspier and he sounded like an angry Chihuahua. Chelsea covered her mouth trying not to laugh again.

“With my hand on your grease gun?! Really?” Brian sighed, mocking Roger’s voice. Mel and Mary were basically rolling on the floor.

“It’s a metaphor Brian!” Roger shouted again and probably hit the wooden door of the cupboard with his fist.

“Okay, okay” Chelsea said between the giggles, as she waved her arms in the air to stop the ‘fight’ “just give me five minutes” she added and, with a slight movement of her head, she invited the others to exit the room.

When she was left alone, she turned around and faced the cupboard. She slowly walked towards hit and gently knocked on the door.

“Rog, can you come out please?” Chelsea tried to resist, but a burst of small laughter left her lips.

“No. At least not now that you’re laughing at me” he whined like a child and made it harder for Chelsea to try to hold it on.

“Oh c’mon baby! I’m laughing at you because you’re acting like a bloody child” not hearing any response, she sighed out loud and took a few steps away “I can’t believe you are like this! We finally reached a new kind of connection, we’re basically” a married couple, her subconscious added, but she stopped, afraid that the word wedding would have driven Roger crazy; she cleared her throat before going on with her speech “I mean, we’ve never been so close. And a moment later you lock yourself inside a fucking cupboard. Just when I thought you had become an adult…” as she finished the sentence, she heard the wood squeaking behind her so she turned around to see Roger stepping out and that caused a new wave of laughter.

“I have a few questions, if you don’t mind and if you fucking stop laughing” Roger said between the chuckles as he walked towards Chelsea. She stood there with challenge written in her eyes and her arms crossed on her chest. He noticed that she was still wearing his flannel and that her hair was still moisty because of the rain.

Approaching her, he took off his own sweater and put it on her shoulders, hugging her tight in his arms as he covered her with both, his sweatshirt and his warm body.

“First of all, do you really think I’m not mature? I mean, that I’m a grown-up child?” Chelsea could feel his voice echoing in his chest while her ear was pressed there; she leaned her chin on his sternum to look up at him.

“Rog, I love you because you’re a grown-up child. I only said that because I know you too well and I was sure you would have stepped out” she sincerely smiled and he did the same.

“Okay, but” and he placed his index finger on Chelsea’s lips because she was already trying to respond without letting him finish “why did you say we finally have a new connection? What does that even mean?” Roger mocked her tone and drew the quotation marks in the air with his fingers. Chelsea shook her head and placed her forehead on his chest.

“Roger” she closed her eyes and sighed “I was talking about the fact that we finally have sex without the bloody condom” she let her arms fall on her sides and Roger was left speechless. Then a little smirked slowly formed on his lips.

“Before you start with your dirty jokes, let me tell you this: for me it’s a new kind of connection. It’s something quite special, because you’ve been the first one in that sense and” Chelsea stopped for a minute; the idea of spending the rest of her life with Roger never left her mind since he took her to see their apartment, but she was kind of scared, not knowing if Roger felt the same about the whole let’s get married thing; she sighed and finished her sentence “I really hope you’ll be also the last one. If you know what I mean” Roger hands were rubbing her lower back and they both could feel the air starting to get more electric. But this time it wasn’t lust or excitement, it was something different.

In those simple words, Roger found all the confidence he needed for his proposal and when he leaned down to kiss her he shivered under her touch. Chelsea noticed and smiled on his lips, pulling him closer by putting her hands behind his neck. They were so lost in their own little world that they didn’t even hear Freddie’s coughs.

He turned around to look at the others with a shocked face, but as a response he just received some shoulders’ scrolls and hushed giggles. Freddie grunted and loudly cleared his throat.

“Do you need something? Maybe a bedroom? Not gonna say a condom since you don’t use one anymore” he said and the couple immediately pulled away after his words left his mouth. Chelsea blushed while Roger’s jaw clenched.

“Who gave you the right to just stay there and listen to our fucking private life?” the blond spitted, trying to get a step closer to Freddie, but Chelsea stopped him.

“Relax darling, I was just joking. I just would like to know if we are to expect something coming. Like a little monster that’s half you and half Chelsea. Basically the devil…” this time Chelsea laughed a little and Roger relaxed, finally smiling.

“We’re too young to have a baby, Fred!” Chelsea commented, putting her arm behind Roger’s back.

At those words Mel’s heart started beating faster and she was sure someone had seen her shifting in on her feet and clenching her jaw. The others were starting to talk about Roger’s song again, but the words came hushed and distant to her ears, as she found Chrissie’s eyes.

“Now!” the redhead mouthed and Melissa knew she was right.

She took the chance while everyone was deep into conversation to reach out with her hand to find John’s arm. She pulled the sleeve to his shirt, like a child would do with a parent and tried to contain her nervousness as she looked at him slowly turning towards her, a big smile on his face.

She tilted her head to the corridor, gesturing him to follow her and he did, the smile turning into grin. She dragged him by his sleeve out of the barn, under the now pouring rain and into the house, only to rest once they were in the living room and they had locked the door behind them.

As Melissa was turning on her heels after locking the door, John’s arms were already circling her from behind and he began to slowly kiss her neck.

She escaped from his grip, leaving him with a confused expression on his face “Did that bother you…?” he cautiously asked.

“Oh no honey,” she rushed to say “it’s just… I have to tell you something and I need to be completely on hold of myself to do that”

John furrowed his eyebrows “Is it something good or bad?” he asked leaning on the table behind him and crossing his arms on his chest.

You know what? I really don’t know…

“It depends…” she decided to say.

“…on what?” John was starting to feel worried about it. Melissa moved her eyes to the floor: on how you’re gonna take it, she thought.

“Mel, you’re scaring me… Will you just tell me what the hell is going on?”

She puffed and started frantically walking up and down the room, rubbing the back of her head, until John grabbed her wrist and pulled her in front of him

“Christ, Mel you’re driving me crazy!” he blurted out as she stopped right in front of him and locked eyes with him: he could see the uncertainty inside her eyes.

John’s expression softened and he brought a hand to cup her cheek and rub it gently with his thumb. She leaned into his touch and raised her hand to take his off her face and slowly bring it down to her stomach.

She studied his face, as she brought his hand lower and lower until she placed it on the bump at the bottom of her belly: she thought of how much it had grown since she had realized she was pregnant and she rejoiced to herself on how good she had been at hiding it with everyone always snooping around in the house and even with John with whom she was actually sleeping every night.

Melissa watched John’s face changing expression, from confusion to wonder and to incredulity at last: his eyebrows unfurrowed and his lips parted slightly when the realization hit his head.

“You… uhm… you’re,” he gulped and troubled to find the words and put together an actual sentence “…you are?” he managed to say.

Melissa was looking at him from underneath her eyelashes. She nodded slightly. John still had his lips parted and he moved his eyes down to his hand, still resting on Mel’s stomach: he moved it upward, dragging the edge of her loose shirt with it.

He felt a knot in his chest and tears threatening to fall at the sight of the bump he had surprisingly not noticed till then: how did I not notice? We sleep together every night and we’re always all over each other, he thought to himself.

He looked up, his lips curving into a smile, and he saw that Melissa was still looking down at where his hand was. He knelt down so that his face was right in front of her belly, wrapped his arms behind her thighs and placed a small kiss right under her belly button.

When he looked up again, he saw that a smile had crept up on her face, so he smiled back and left another kiss and then another and another, until he heard her giggling and felt her hand on his hair, brushing it gently.

What did I do to deserve you? Melissa thought to herself, brushing his hair lovingly and sniffling, tears already watering her eyes.

John tilted his head and got up swiftly to cup her face with his hands, wiping away some tears that had escaped her eyelashes.

He was smiling so fondly at her, Melissa thought she could have melted and burst into endless sobbing just by the look of love he was giving her. John had tears in his eyes as well and seeing her like that, made him so emotional he was forcing himself not to cry, but a tear escaped his hold and fell on his cheek.

That sent Mel over the edge and tears started streaming down her face. John hurried to wrap his arms around her and hold her close to his chest. He slowly lulled her, slightly rocking their bodies right and left, as tears of joy were escaping from his eyes.

He was going to be a father.

“You know you must not cry, cause when you do I cry as well” Melissa muffled against his shirt, making him chuckle and sniffle.

“I know – I know” he hurried to say, his voice broken by the sniffles and the sighs “It’s all so overwhelming, darling, I’m sorry” he said, at last, bringing his hand up from her back to wipe away the tears and gain some control over his emotions.

“Don’t be. It’s a lot to take in” she mumbled and her voice died down as those last words left her mouth.

He pulled back from the hug to look at the girl in the eyes “You do not know how happy you made me” he said with a smile.

He already knew he loved her deeply but that revelation only exponentially increased his love for her: they were going to start a family. Their own family. And even if they were young and it would have been frowned upon that they were having a child outside marriage, he didn’t care. He loved Melissa with all his heart and in that moment he could not think of a single reason why that would have been a bad idea. Yeah, it was unexpected and certainly a huge responsibility, but he was so over the moon about it that the only thing he could do was picturing Melissa holding their child – that would have been nothing but gorgeous if they took anything from their mother - and smiling fondly at him.

Melissa looked up at him: he looked so precious and simply beautiful with wet cheeks and teary eyes that she would have wanted to remain hugged to him forever.

“So you’re not mad at me?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

John furrowed “Mad at you? Why should I, honey?” he asked before placing a kiss on the tip of her nose.

That loving gesture made Melissa smile slightly “I figured you’d be mad for having not told you sooner…” she admitted, looking away.

John studied her face “Well you could have told me sooner, but I’m definitely not mad about it” he smiled “But why didn’t you? I mean why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Melissa sighed looking up to him again “I – I was scared of your reaction.”

“What did you think would have happened? Me freaking out and leaving you alone?” he joked and when she looked down John realized he had scored.

“Do you not know me at all?” he asked between the amused and the hurt: how could she think he would have even considered leaving her?

Melissa was still avoiding his gaze “I do know you… But I wasn’t sure, okay?” she puffed “God I was so scared when they told me that I was pregnant I–” she hesitated and lifted her eyes to meet his. She sighed “-I honestly didn’t know what to do…”

She was about to look down again, when John placed a hand on her chin to raise it and force her to lock eyes with him “You should have come to me” he said in a serious tone, probably the most serious Melissa had ever heard coming from him.

“You’re right” she replied

He softened his expression “It’s okay, love. I’m here now” he smiled and softly kissed her on the lips “I’m gonna take care of you”

Melissa smiled back, sincerely relieved of having told him everything. In the back of her head she could hear her rational side, wondering what she would have done with him being away on tour during the oncoming fall, that roughly matched with her due date. She forced herself not to listen to that part of her mind, and focus on the moment.

She climbed on her tiptoes and kissed him gently and fondly.

When they parted John couldn’t stop smiling and he placed his hand on the bottom of her belly while keeping his eyes locked with hers “WE are gonna handle it together, the three of us”.

Melissa felt tears stinging the back of her eyes again “You cannot say things like that when I’m on the verge of crying every two minutes and a half”.

John chuckled and pulled her in for another hug “I love you” he said, his chin resting on her head and his hand rubbing her back.

Melissa smiled against his chest “I love you too”.

Chapters: ⤎ previous | next ⤏

A/N: My softness-meter just exploded. AGAIN. Told you this ended in softness... Hope you enjoyed this one 💗 we’re gonna tag the lovely people who read, liked and commented the previous chapters. If you want to be tagged in the next one, comment under this one or leave us a message. Our inboxes are always open for you beautiful people

Tag list: @littledarlingwellaway @its-nxt-living@bohemiandelilah@onevisionliz@misshystericalqueen @loki-lover095@deakysgurl@inthelapofthe39 @starsoflovingness-wq@minetticatinwonderland@cairdes20 @friendswillbefriendsblog@o-holynight @trash-record-collection @please-stop-me-now@theappleofmybri @marvelsbunch@imgonnabeyourslave @babygotblueeyes @mi55chanandlerbong @deaky-with-a-c

Cheers, folks! ✌

31 notes · View notes

jamiebluewind · 6 years

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My Sides

Note: I decided to make depression a disorder that impacts me and my sides to varying degrees depending on a variety of factors.

Apathy/Rue: Over sleep, disasociation (which can be handy during a crisis), laziness, relaxing, calming down, zoning out, and meh days. Favorite hobby is doing nothing. Doesn't care what pronouns you use for them. Depression causes them to be heightened to the point of causing emotional numbness and loss of all motivation.

Appearance: Perpetual bedhead. Short brown hair with two pale baby blue hair streaks due to fading. Wears an oversized baggy mens cotton tee with a few tiny holes in it and a chest pocket (for candy). They only wear pants when they have to. Otherwise, it's tiny cotton shorts that barely cover them. Owns one pair of flip flops (that they never wear). Fuck bras and shaving.

Restlessness/Max: Over obsessions, compulsions, anxiety, worry, fight/flight/friend/freeze, cognative distortions, and intrusive thoughts. Just a ball of nervousness and overthinking. Loves to research, fixate on topics, theorize, plan for "what if?" scenarios, and overshare about their latest thing. Bad with directions. Has a thing about symmetry. Constantly fidgeting or pacing. Does not do chill. The most likely to cause people to say "that's fucked up" when talking about something they thought of. Most likely to have a friend or freeze response in a dangerous situation. Will bolt when in danger if you trigger their flight response, even if where they end up puts them in more danger. Will act like a rabid animal and attack if you somehow trigger their fight response. They can make Logic harder to hear, but whatever gets through can help them balance out. Apathy can block their fight/flight/friend/freeze response. Depression causes their intrusive thoughts to become much darker.

Appearance: Somewhat messy short brown hair from constantly running their fingers through it. Glasses are a bright color (blue or purple?) so they are harder to misplacd and are either on their face or sitting on top of their head. Eyebags. Long soft scarf around their neck which provides comfort and something to mess with. Long sleeve shirt that's a solid muted or soft color as to not draw attention. A cami underneath just in case. Darker bluejeans (because they hide stains, are durable, and what if period!) with a small flashlight hooked on one of the loops. A hoodie tied around their waist. White sneakers. A wristlet purse with a few emergency items. A hidden necklace with emergency information.

Emotion/River: Over feelings, nostalgia, empathy, love, comforting others, gender identity, and sexuality. Aggressively cares about their friends. Would move heaven and earth to help others. Is a bit of a hoarder. Gender fluctuates between demigirl, bigender, and female. Loves art and fiction. Is both childish and profound. Loves moodrings. Depression either mutes all their emotions but sadness (and sometimes anger) or leaves her comatose.

Appearance: Short brown hair is soft and a little fluffy with two bright blue streaks at the front. Bright clothes with lots of colors. Jewelery that suits their mood. Has 2 colorful pronoun bracelets. Always wears at least one mood ring. Beautiful colorful tattoos without a unified theme (although many are cute or look like they came from a cartoon or comic). Several ear piercings and one sparkly nostril. Wears eyeliner and lip tint when she feels like dressing fem and occasionally uses eyeshadow. Clothes are usually androgynous. T-shirt has writing on it that made her smile. Shirt has a crew cut on "they days" and a v-neck on "she days". Reflective rainbow colored novelty purse. Sandals. Owns one floofy long skirt. The rest of their bottoms are shorts, capris, or pants. They usually wear capris.

Logic/Jo: Over intelligence, knowledge, curiosity, theorizing, the logical side of beliefs, and objectivity. Loves learning and reading non-fiction, but is fond of certain fictional works. Schedules, pay the bills, and self care. Open minded. Loves to research and has a massive library of knowledge, but due to the multi-dimensional nature of their room, information sometimes ends up stored in the wrong place. Fascinated by religions on an intellectual, historical, and cultural standpoint and uses what she learns to be mindful and respectful. Can counteract cognative distortions, but can also cause or amplify fixations on her quest for knowledge. Stubborn. Depression causes them to have difficulty functioning and sometimes become distorted until they find reasons to do dangerous or harmful things.

Appearance: Short brown hair is always professional. Simple glasses have dark blue, almost black frames. No piercings or tattoos. Cotton polo and slacks. Only jewelery is an elegant stirling necklace with a long chain and a large simple diamond shaped charm (one side says "She" while the other says "They"). Comfortable professional black loafers.

Creativity/Journey: Over inspiration, creativity, brainstorming, certain types of problem solving, ingenuity, out of the box thinking, writing, singing, photography, other creations, worldbuilding, jokes, puns, acting, and certain types of lying to others. Frequently goes on tangents. Run on sentences. Can be a little too energetic and random. Once inspired, they can't stop thinking about something until it's done or they run out of inspiration or drive. Has a wall of books for cataloguing ideas and unfinished projects (often taking from several old ones to build a new one), but the order has no rhythm or reason (even to them). Can be heightened or hindered by Restlessness. Apathy can help Creativity with daydreams and less fear, but make it difficult for them to take action. Depression makes them barely function, save acting and negative ideas.

Appearance: Dark purple hair with several bright blue hair steaks. Ear piercings and one sparkly dermal near their left eye. Purple eyeliner. Modified a pair of comfy overall shorts (aka shortalls) to be backless with a halter top fit (instead of the traditional tank top fit) so they would have lots of pockets to store stuff while having the most skin exposed to show off their extensive tattoos. Tends to wear a strapless binder or halter top underneath to avoid boob slips. Runs around in socks indoors, but has hiking boots for outside. Tattoos are artistic with heavy symbolism as well as quotes.

Ambiguity/Duo: Over morally gray areas, lying to others and oneself, telling the truth to others and oneself, spotting both deceit and honesty in others, superstitions, the illogical side of beliefs, seeing the good in the bad and visa versa, sarcasm, and occasional devil's advocate. Not quick to judge. Sees gender as a social construct, but also that some people require it. Sees religion as something that is not necessary for them to be happy, but knows it is important to others and will fight for those rights (as long as it doesn't hurt the individual, others, or society itself). Balances the line of what is and is not socially acceptable. Personal truths. Has a very "you do you" attatude. Probably enjoys yoga and certain fiction, especially ones that subvert expectations and/or tropes. Depression causes them to become skewed. Because of this, some things become amplified (lies to self and others, seeing the bad in good,...), some things become weakened (honesty, seeing the good in bad, spotting honesty,...), and some things become tainted (deceit is spotted when none is there, beliefs become tainted,...).

Appearance: Right half of face is white while the left half is black. A gray part in the middle where one color fades into the other that's about the width of their lips. Hair and clothing follow the same theme with the only color being their blue hazel eyes. Hair is held back with a metallic silver headband. Button up shirt with a sheer back (similar look to this). One glove on the left side. Bottoms are pinstripe palazzo pants or culottes. Ballet slippers. Has an ornimental tattoo on their back and one on each ankle.

----

Other facts...

My sides all have their individual jobs and functions, but they also work together on certain things.

My morality comes from Emotion, Logic, and Ambiguity. They work together despite their frequent disagreements.

Beliefs come from Logic and Ambiguity. Emotion can help by attaching a feeling to each belief.

If my ego is hurt, it effects Creativity, Emotions, and/or Logic depending on which was targeted. The same goes for the opposite (such as when praised).

Having my ego hurt make Restlessness freak out and overthink everything.

Despite Emotion having main control over gender identity (mine being femfluidflux), Logic has some input. Occasionally, Apathy or Ambiguity have a say.

Creativity literally created a new type of clothing for their needs. The halter shortalls currently do not exist to my knowledge.

All the sides have a varying level of fondness for cats. Apathy respects their chill. Restlessness finds them calming as well as a good way to release nervous energy. Emotion's heart just melt from the adorableness and wants all snuggles. Logic appreciates the proven medical benefits of having a pet. Creativity loves making cat toys, taking photos, and playing games with cats. Ambiguity admires their independence and controlled chaos. Their opinions on other animals varies.

None of my sides are entirely good or entirely bad. They also balance each other. (Apathy can help Emotion and Restlessness chill. Emotion can help Apathy when they get heightened. Restlessness can help spur the others into action as well as fixate to help Logic and Creativity. Emotion gives Logic and Creativity encouragement as well as helping make sure writing hits right in the feels. Logic helps the others with facts and helps break through negative thinking and spirals. Creativity helps connect thoughts in new and exciting ways and helps Restlessness find new ways to coop. Ambiguity helps the others make the hard decisions and keeps Logic from becoming too ridged.)

#my sides #bluewind talks #sanders sides #original sides

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nekumiko · 5 years

Text

Colors

Fandom: Daiya no Ace

Genre: Romance

Rated: T

Words: 2,051

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: She’s fascinated with his hair. Just his hair. But Ryousuke finds it invasive, and of course he won’t let her off that easily.

Chapter Four: Trigger

"Copy?" Aya flops down on her bed, brown hair splayed all over her pillows. "What does he even mean by that?" She holds up her sketchbook, flipped open to her drawing of Haruichi. Then, even if it had been a month since she actually talked to him, she remembers how Haruichi talked about his brother.

Haruichi had enrolled in Seidou – had started playing baseball, even – because of his older brother. And with him playing second baseman today, it's easy to deduce that Haruichi likes to follow in his brother’s footsteps.

And based on experience, the older Kominato doesn't like that.

"Oh no!" She suddenly sits up. "What if, right at this moment, poor little Haruichi is out doing errands for his seniors and he accidentally bumps into his brother who would bully him?"

Or maybe not.

Maybe Kominato only doesn't like being followed by her. Maybe he just doesn't like her.

"Well, it's just one more year. That's nothing compared to the rest of his life without me." Aya falls back on her pillows, then turns to her side to hug the nearest one. "He should even consider himself lucky." She hides her face under the pillow and closes her eyes. "He won't be the one returning to a life of stagnant gray."

The next day, Aya spies the principal and vice-principal heading towards the field to presumably watch morning practice. It's one thing to be caught by the Coach sometimes, and another to let the misunderstanding of her constant presence there extend to the school officials. No way would she let that happen.

But then she doesn't watch the after-school practice, nor drop by for the next two practice days. And despite her excitement, she doesn't even attend the Kanto game anymore.

Firstly, it's a school day. Secondly, Seidou would play against Yokohama, where most of her old classmates back in Kanagawa are now studying. She wouldn't want to hear again the lines, "As expected of Makoto-san! If she's not holed up in a corner with a sketchbook, you'd find her in the bleachers of a baseball game!" and "What's that? You're drawing baseball players now? You've just combined your eccentricities!"

And, okay, maybe she's still a bit bitter.

What is she even trying to prove? That she can survive without a muse? She certainly did before, so it shouldn't be any different now. And didn't she once wish to stop depending on the senior so much for her to be productive? But here she is, in the middle of a creative stump. The world has become a boring gray, hence it started reflecting on her daily works - if it's not black-ink-abused, it would simply be colorless.

Friday rolls around and she's kicked out of the club room, only allowed to return once she picks herself back up. In the one year she's been with the Art Club, she knows it's just out of disguised concern and trust, so she harbors no hurt feelings. But it leaves her no choice but to set out for the field.

Nope. She also has the choice to procrastinate for one day more.

On her way home, she shoots Miyuki a message to ask if there's a game tomorrow, to which he answers hours later with an affirmative.

(Yet it was an unusually clipped reply. Aya is highly suspicious that he's pissed – not at her, though, for there are telltale signs if it is so – but unless she wants to be put into a grayer mood – for an upset Kazuya would, in turn, upset her too – she chalks it up to him just being exhausted.)

And what luck. To narrow the participating players in Summer Nationals down to twenty, double-header games have begun. In one day, two schools would be invited over for practice games against Seidou's first-string and second-string at the same time on different fields.

It hadn’t been a problem last year. With Miyuki and Kuramochi getting into first-string, she got to support them while she watched the pink-haired senior.

This year, though, Haruichi has been confirmed to be promoted to second-string.

Damn Kominato Ryousuke.

If she chooses the first-string game, it'd be like betraying a new friend. And if she chooses the second-string game, he would believe what she said last time about preferring Haruichi over him and—

WHAT.

Why does she even care what the third-year would think? Why does she even think that he would so much as spare a thought of her?

As she mulled things over, Aya's feet leads her to Field A well after two innings. She barely finishes squeezing her way towards the front of the crowd when Furuya steps off the mound, as urged by Miyuki – the evil being who 'forgot' to inform her that today's a double-header.

Not long after, Tanba runs out of the dugout, claims the mound, and immediately throws a curveball that leads to a strike.

"Hey, hey! I'm getting bored out here!" Jun-san complains lightheartedly when his friend throws another strike.

"You seem to be in a real good position," Kuramochi adds.

But all these had happened only in Aya's peripheral, for her eyes had already instinctively searched for him and locked there.

"You're finally acting like the ace," Kominato Ryousuke says with his signature smirk. "A little late, though."

Despite being in the gray moment of indecision, she still ended up choosing the older brother. "This is crazy," she mutters to herself.

What's even crazier is that two weeks later, she's still banned from the Art Club.

What is going on with her? Is it because she only drops by during games now? Does she really need to see him every day? Or has she ultimately jinxed everything and the world of colors had finally failed her, as what everyone back home expects?

On times like these, she reverts back to drawing pictures of the past – of her elegantly boring life back in Kanagawa. Today, she draws a portrait of herself in a kimono, in her personal favorite color – gray. The color that describes her family's status, and the future she is being forced into. But it's also the color of her safe space. It's true that she had fought to get her parents to arrive at a compromise, yet a gray life is what she could always fall back to if this all turns out to be a wrong decision, a mere whim.

"Won't you be ruining your eyesight, drawing in a place like this?"

Aya stops. Slowly, she straightens up and looks to her left.

The twilight shining in through the stair windows is still bright enough for her to actually see what she's doing, even to see the gray dust motes floating in the air. And right now, floating in between her and Kominato Ryousuke.

"Just where did you come from?" The moment she asks that, she realizes she had dropped polite speech. She opens her mouth to apologize.

But he simply answers, "I forgot something in the classroom."

Right, the Art Club is way up in the third floor of the school building, where the third-year classrooms are. It is close to the set of stairs that not a lot of people go through at this time of day, so Aya had been settling there in hopes of the members taking pity on her when they see her.

What a successful plan that is, so far.

"I see." She nods slowly, then hesitantly turns back to the sketchbook in her lap, not quite knowing if she should continue drawing.

Maybe Kominato let her rude question slide, but maybe he won't appreciate being blatantly brushed off when he for once approached her with nothing but curiosity. Especially when he doesn't move at all from his seat on the steps, with only Aya's box of colored pencils finally serving a purpose – a barrier between them. "So this is where you usually are these days," he finally speaks again.

"Actually, I would've been in the club room, but since I'm temporarily not allowed in there for producing very uninspired works..." she trails off with a sigh.

"How so? You were even watching the second-stringers' game today. Haruichi had played."

"But you didn't."

The senior goes silent.

This is the part where Kominato would call her out for being creepy again, and Aya is ready for it.

But today he just... continues to say nothing in response.

Confused, Aya turns to look at him again.

The dimming light from the stair windows doesn't do much, though, especially when his face is turned away from her. But he is obviously biting his lip.

"Kominato-san? Are you okay?"

He breathes deeply. "You're really… something else."

That statement is still grounds for an argument to start, but there's just something about his tone that says otherwise. That suddenly makes her heart flutter. That slowly triggers colors to seep back in. It's so startling, that the only thing she could do was to look back down at her sketchbook.

Kominato finally clears his throat. "May I... see the drawings you usually do?"

"Huh?" Surprised yet again, she snaps her head towards him. What is going on? Why is he suddenly interested, when all this time he had hated the idea of her drawing him? And did he of all people stutter?

The guy is apparently not looking at her, but at her in the current page of her sketchbook.

Of all the things she has to draw today, it’d have to be of her fitting a kimono. Not-so-discreetly covering it with her arms, she decides the best way to take his attention off it is to comply with him. And he is asking nicely. "Sure, why not?" But she pauses at the first drawing she reveals. "Oh. Do you mean you want to see the drawings I have of... of you?"

Kominato nods. "I want to confirm something."

Again, what exactly is happening here? Is she in some kind of dream?

He looks up at her. "Well?"

This has got to be the craziest thing to happen to her this week. "Okay," she says, dragging the last syllable out of reluctance, but then continues to turn the pages.

Now, it's one thing to have a muse who doesn't exactly get flattered for being one. And another to have said muse looking at your unsolicited drawings of them.

But she isn't cringing, for all her brain registers right now is that the boy had scooted closer to practically hover over her shoulder and she could feel his warmth and he smells so nice and –

"Are requests open right now?" He's suddenly putting the distance between them back up.

"What?" Her eyes widen at all her thoughts during the ordeal, the sudden loneliness she felt when it ended, and the weirdest thing that's ever come out of his mouth.

"Requests. You take requests from people and draw, don't you? Commissions, you call them?"

"You... you want me to commission you a drawing."

Kominato suddenly faces forward, at the big windows. "Yes. But please draw my eyes properly."

It takes everything in her not to laugh out loud. She bites her lip. "I'm sorry, Kominato-san, but that's pretty hard to do. I don't exactly know what your eyes look like."

"Is that so?"

"Mmm-hmm, so - what are you doing?"

"How about now?"

She's now backed up against the wall, a clear view of Kominato Ryousuke's black irises right in front of her. Relying on her photographic memory, she closes her eyes after a few seconds. "1200 yen. That's an inked close-up portrait of you, in full color."

"That's fair."

"I think so too." But when she opens her eyes, he's still there. "Senpai," she now whines, sliding the sketchbook in between the small distance between their faces, "is this actually a trap?” And with a sudden burst of courage, she jokes, “I didn’t know you feel that way."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Finally, he draws back from her. Even better, he stands up. "Okay. I'll see you around."

She peeks at him from one corner of the sketchbook. "Please expect your order in a week or so."

Kominato nods noncommittally, already bounding down the stairs.

As Aya tries to process everything that just happened, she first notices that the world of gray is gone.

Previous: New (art) interest, he seems

Next: Truce

#kominato ryousuke x oc #ryousuke x oc #kominato ryousuke #diamond no ace #daiya no ace #ace of diamond #ace of diamond fanfiction #diamond no ace fanfiction #nekumiko

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babeimagineus · 7 years

Text

English project-m

Summary: justin rarely attends school since he does one day he finally gets to see you and coincidently you two get partnered up for a project..

TAGS:smut, highschoolAU,badboyJBxreader.

Justin’s eyes would catch on your every move. He would stop breathing for a second every time you walk past him. Justin wasn’t ‘shy’, in fact, justin was known for messing around with girls. Justin was known only do one night stands, leaving them heartbroken. You weren’t really fazed by this, you were probably the only girl in the entire school who hadn’t ‘spoken’ or ‘interacted’ with him.

You were standing minding your own business as you stood in line waiting for a sandwich at the school canteen.

“Hey Y/N is it?”

You spin around as you hear your name. You see a cute boy with light soft hair, looking like candy floss, he also had really nice eyes, a hazelnut brown colour causing you to get lost in them.

“Yeah.. that’s me..”

“I’m Justin, i’m in your English class.”

“Really?”

Justin did seem familiar at first but you couldn’t figure out where you had seen him, you were sure you hadn’t seen him in english as you just had english first period.

“Uhh..”

Justin’s voice snaps you out of your daze as you see him pointing at the back of you. You spin around to find the front line empty. You quickly walk forward and buy yourself a chicken sandwich. You nod and smile at justin, who had his eyes on you the entire time.

Justin couldn’t believe his eyes. He saw your new instagram picture. He spent his quality time, inching through every photo. He settles his eyes on your recent picture. You looked stunning. You were dressed up a bit, showing off your figure in a dress and heels. He double taps the photo. He bites his lip, debating whether it made him seem creepy or anything. Justin would always flick through your pictures. He really did like the recent one, smiling as he settles his phone down on his bed before huffing off.

Justin spots you walking through the door and like any other day you looked effortlessly beautiful wearing a pair of jeans and hoodie.

“Please settle down. As you know this is last period, I won’t give you any work together.”

Mr French’s loud voice boomed the whole class.

“For this next project, you have 1 week to complete it and present it on a online document.”

Mr french suddenly starts pairing people up.

“Y/N and Justin.”

You narrow your eyes to Justin to find him looking back at you. Before the bell rang to dismiss the class, Mr french sings a good luck reminder before allowing you all to go your separate ways.

“Hey Justin.”

You run a little faster to catch up to him.

“Oh.. Hi”

Justin stuffs his hands in his sweatpants.

“I was wondering, maybe we could start today.. You know for english?”

“Sure.” he replies.

“Are you coming in?”

You stand outside looking like a lost puppy. You hurry and rush behind Justin.

“Should I remove my shoes or..”

You look down at your shoes. They were a little old, the soles wearing out on your converse sneakers.

“I don’t mind.” Justin replies back.

You decide to take them off. Justin chucks his bag on the couch before walking onto the kitchen to open a can of soda.

“Want one?”

“No thanks.”

You see him suddenly slumping onto the couch, not even sitting up properly.

“Let’s play mario kart.”

You wonder if he was always this slacked off. I mean you had ONE week to finish off your english project. You had a lot of research to do.

“Justin, I think we should start doing the english-”

“Ok.”

“Ok?” You question him.

So just like that he would suddenly change moods? He gets up quickly.

“Should we study in my room or the living room?”

Your eyes widen at the question he was asking. You didn’t want it too seem to ‘forward’ if you said bedroom but you didn’t want anyone interrupting your studies together. You suddenly see Justin past you and up the stairs.

“Come on if you wanna get this project finished.”

So we were going to his room?

“Wait. I never picked the bedr-”

“You were taking too long.”

You follow silently to Justin’s room.

“You know how to play a guitar?”

You find a acoustic guitar at the corner of his room.

“Yeah.”

You loved and admired musically talented people. You’ve always wanted to play the guitar.

“Want me to teach you?”

You nod instantly.

“Yeah, that will be cool. I mean I’m not good at it but i’ve always wanted to play.”

Justin chuckles at your excited faze.

“Can you hand it over?”

You turn to right and carefully pick it up. Justin sits on his bed with crossed legs.

“Here sit down.”

You look at his bed, debating whether it was ok to sit down on it.

“I’m not gonna bite.” Justin says, half smiling.

He climbs on his knees, positioning himself behind you as you sit down on the bed. He holds the guitar out in front of you. You hold the instrument in your shaky hands. Justin carefully places his large hands over yours.

“Pluck this string.”

You pluck the 2nd string. He slowly guides you through, even teaching you simple chords.

“Wow, thanks Justin. I actually learnt something today.”

“No problem.”

He shuffles in his draws. You spot random coins and condoms in there. He picks up a lighter and a couple of rolled up blunts. Your eyes follow his every move. He takes a blunt between his teeth, holding it before lighting it up. Justin notices your eyes on him. Justin leans in, his eyes staring at your shaky ones. He lightly touches the sides of your face. You feel the warm and gentle touch of his fingers. You sit there awaiting his next move.

Justin grasps your cheeks, forcing your mouth apart. He leans in, so close your lips nearly touch. Instead he blows the suffocating weed into your mouth. You inhale the smoke. You close your eyes, forgetting about whatever was on your mind that day. You forgot about the project, what you ate today, who you were. You felt free.

You suddenly feel Justin’s warm soft lips against your neck. He kisses his way down your chest. You move your neck, giving him all the access he needed. Justin keeps his kissing steady and soft. He reaches a hand under your hoodie, touching your soft skin. He smoothes his warm hand against your lower stomach. You loved the way his hand felt against your skin, it almost made you calm and sleepy. You fell into a deep pit just by the way he was touching you so sensationally and carefully. You steady yourself, holding your hands flat against his bed. You were trying not to squirm with his kisses. He sucks harshly above your left breast. He pulls his head away, loving the way your skin looks with a red mark.

“Y/N. truthfully I’ve always wanted you.”

You barely knew him, how could he know you any better? You let a moan slip as he sneaks his way into your jeans. You glance down with lazy eyes and to your surprise your button was already undone. Justin watches your expression carefully.

“Can I touch you?”

Justin mumbles against your ear, warm breath blowing.

“Yeah.” You sigh out, wanting him to hurry up.

Justin was sure he couldn’t keep his hands of you any longer but still he cared too much to take advantage of you, he wanted to make sure you wanted this as much as he did.

“Are you sure Y/N? If you’re not comfortable we can stop her-”

You groan in annoyance. You didn’t know how long you could wait any longer. Justin did not know how ready you were. He still thought you were an inexperienced virgin.

“Take me now.”

You turn the crook of your neck, pushing your lips onto his, taking him by surprise like a slap on the butt.

“Hurry up or else we’ll be here forever.”

Justin’s yes are wide open at your direct actions. Justin didn’t know how to react to your confidence, he lays back and lets you take control. He watches above with open eyes as your remove your hoodie over your head and to his suprise you were only wearing a simple bra. Justin’s eyes wander over your exposed skin. He reaches out and runs his hands on your waist and torso. Justin already knew you had a beautiful body but seeing it so close made his mouth drop. He couldn’t actually believe this was happening. Sure he has had a lot of fucks here and there but this one he was actually excited for. You were something different, something unique. Justin could no longer keep calm as the sight of made him excited.

He groans as you reach back to unclip your bra. He hardens at the sight of your bare upper body. You were so undeniably sexy. Your hair fell, framing your face and shoulders. Your expression on your face making him twitch and hungrier by the passing seconds. You watch justin. He was groaning at all the little things you would do. Justin’s deep groans of pleasure going straight to your throbbing core. You wished you wore a skimpy skirt instead because of how difficult the tight jeans were to get off.

“M-y jeans,” you pant, “can you help me get them off.”

Justin quickly catches on your problem and hold your waist, flipping your bodies. Justin quickly tugs them off your legs. Before getting on his knees and ripping off his jacket, showing his tatted arms. He tugs off his shirt, revealing his structed torso, designed with a smooth canvas and a lot of different inked objects. You ran your fingers, dainty and soft along his hard muscles. He loved this action. He could have you touching his skin for ever. He watches with open eyes as you gently swipe over to his waist band. You cup his hardened package.

“Don’t fucking tease me.”

Justin curses deeply and seriously. You were scared so you didn’t want to test the theory out. You were surprisingly also turned on at his seriousness. You watch his facial expressions turn soft as you rub him over his sweatpants. You watch above as he closes his eyes shut and begins to thrust his hips up needily against your working hand. You tingled at this sight. He had his hands beside your head, his fringe flopped down on his sweaty forehead.

“Rub faster baby.”

You mumble a yeah under your breath, eyes not straying away from him. You feel him twitch in your hand.

“Fuckkk-stop.” He quickly reaches down and yanks your hand away.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, “I wasn’t gonna last long if you’re kept that up with your fucking hand.”

You silently keep that in mind for next time, if that were to happen.

You slide your panties down with quick fingers, flinging them on the floor. You wrap your legs around him, allowing your open core to press directly on his hard bulge. You groan out at the feeling. Justin groans out at the sight of you grinding your wet core on his covered shaft, which was so close to letting go. Justin tries to hold off as much as possible, shaft twitching so much, he was sure he would last if he got a into you for even a second. Justin not being able to handle your teasing and rubbing any longer, yanks his sweats and boxers in one go. You see the desperation, clearly as his shaft was red and swollen with precum already dripping down. You moan at the sight of it.

Before you would even react properly, Justin shoves himself in your heat. You gasp, your breath being knocked out by sudden force. Justin begins moving at a harsh pace, being him stretching you out instantly. You moan out, not being able to speak or say anything. You grasp the sheet, trying to steady your body as the thrusts were so frantic making your whole body thrust up.

“Are you there yet?” Justin pants.

You bite your bottom lip harshly to hopefully quite down your pants. Justin leans his head down. Justin plucks his tongue out and licks your left harden nipple.

“Oh god Justin.” you gasp.

Justin tugs against it, making you lose your mind at the action. You feel his soft locks against your chin, you inhale the inviting fresh scent. Justin’s shaft hits the back of your soft spot.

“Justin, I-” You let go, the explosion from your lower stomach spilling out.

You clench around his shaft, feeling how big he was inside of you. Justin feels your action and pants heavily against your shoulder as he steadies himself with arms. He lets his seed spill inside of you, panting heavier than ever. Justin stays there for a second.

“Do you still wanna continue with the project or?”

#justing bieber imagine #justin bieber dirty imagines #mature justin bieber imagines #justin bieber smut #justin bieber fanfic #justin bieber fanfiction

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dearmyloveleys · 7 years

Text

the night radio | a rose by any other name

taekook (3064 words)

Taehyung is plucking petals off a rose in broad daylight and in a library. In a fucking public library smack in the middle of Seoul.

Jeongguk steals a look at the older from behind the cover of his textbook, unable to comprehend the situation that has been going on since an hour ago. A stray red petal floats to the space on the table in front of Jeongguk and he switches his line of sight between it and Taehyung.

He knows Taehyung has been feeling down for the entire day already. He had entered the building in the morning to Taehyung’s pouts that had deteriorated to silent gazes into the distance by afternoon.

Taehyung’s metallic badge flashes as he flops onto the table top and makes a low frustrated moan. The sight makes Jeongguk question the other’s liability as a librarian. Not to mention, why he has been going to the same library that’s too noisy on weekends just for a glimpse of Taehyung.

How long has it been? A month? Two? He thinks it’s closing half a year that he’s coming here every weekend. Recently, Tuesdays and Wednesdays are added to his schedule as well since his classes end in the early afternoon on these days.

“Hyung, are you okay?” he finally asks.

The library is humming in low voices of its patrons in the background and Taehyung looks up from the table with an upturned mouth. He answers, “No.” The older picks up the rose stem along with what’s left of the hanging petals and his pout extends further. Jeongguk then rests his textbook on the table, gulping heavily.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Taehyung says as he stares at Jeongguk ruefully.

“Then why are you plucking the poor rose?”

“I—” The third last petal is pulled out. “—don’t—” The second. “—know.” And the last.

Taehyung crushes the bony rose stem in his hand and buries his face into his folded arms after a few seconds. Looking at how white his knuckles are, Jeongguk worries about the thorns possibly hurting the other’s palm.

Though, he’s more worried about why Kim Taehyung is looking like a kicked puppy instead of the pouncing puppy he knows. Taehyung literally resembles a kicked puppy with his overly long sleeves of a sweater and a nest of hazel brown hair that covers the tips of his ears.

And Jeongguk feels his mood sink along with Taehyung’s.

They’re seated about an arm’s length apart on the opposite sides of the table and Jeongguk contemplates reaching out to flick his hair in mischief. Taehyung always does that to him whenever he strolls by with the book cart. He guesses that it should lighten up his mood.

With his heart low-key thumping hard, Jeongguk stretches his hand over but just as his fingers brush against the wisps of his hair, another librarian swoops in and taps Taehyung on the shoulder. Hair in a ponytail, round glasses, Jeongguk recognises her as Seohyun.

“Taehyung-ah you need to get back to work,” she says, adjusting the pile of books in her arms.

Taehyung lifts his face off the table and nods—gives Jeongguk a meaningful glance—then slides off the chair. He sweeps the petals off the table into his hand before bowing to Seohyun and trudging away to the shelves in the Young Adults section.

Jeongguk trails his gaze after the older, slowly retracting his hand. He’s left to look at the aforementioned rose petal and he blows at it, only for it to do a double loop in the air. It floats down onto the page of his opened textbook.

“I’m sorry I had to cut your moment. The manager is around today and he doesn’t take rests lightly,” Seohyun says in a hushed tone as she pushes in the now empty chair. Jeongguk shakes his head and manages a small smile. The young woman pauses in her actions and continues, “Taehyung’s a really nice guy. Don’t let him slip away.”

Jeongguk sighs, “I know. I know.”

“How long has it been? A few months?”

“Close to half a year.”

Seohyun nods her head and says, “Go talk to him. And ask him out. You two make a cute couple. Fighting!” With that, she walks away, leaving Jeongguk to stone and mull on her words in his corner of the library.

Meeting Taehyung was never part of his plan.

On his way to the university compound half a year ago, it rained and there was no umbrella with him so he had no choice but to seek shelter at the library. Even then, rain had no intention of stopping after an hour of waiting. He settled down to continue studying as he had planned for that day in order to not waste time.

He never meets Taehyung until night. It’s only because of his forgetful ass left his wallet on the seat in a rush to catch the bus that Taehyung manages to message him. By some lucky charm, he had left his number on a piece of scrap paper in his wallet which Taehyung obviously found.

Jeongguk had gotten his wallet, a cute guy’s number and his heart shot down hard by Cupid’s arrows when Taehyung greeted him to return his wallet—all in one night. It was crazy and it still is.

Suddenly thinking of the possibility that Taehyung has seen his crappy sixteen year old identification card picture while rummaging through his wallet, Jeongguk squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. Oh god.

This is quite embarrassing.

Opening his eyes a few seconds later, he considers the stray petal that’s a drop of blood on the off-white pages of his textbook. How in the world is Taehyung able to get a rose?

He pushes the question to the back of his head while flipping his textbook to a close. Coming to grips with a resolution to talk to the older, he gets up from his seat and paces towards the right where he had last seen Taehyung.

It takes Jeongguk four turns around the towering shelves, a flight of steps and two detours before finding Taehyung slumped on a bench hidden behind the children’s section. He traipses past the orange and blue rubber floor mats, swallows down a gulp, then glances at the other and the fresh stalk of rose in his hand.

Without shifting his line of sight from the rose, Taehyung spins it by the stalk and says, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” He stops spinning it and looks up at Jeongguk. “Do you know where that line is from?” he asks.

Humour him, the voice in his head whispers. Jeongguk slides his hand into the front pocket of his jeans in an attempt to buy time to think and the answer fortunately apparates into his mind not too long after.

“Romeo and Juliet?”

“Mmm,” Taehyung says, nodding his head sluggishly. His face is a sheet of unamused blankness as he continues, “Everybody dies in that play.”

“Well not everybody. Their parents surv—”

“Shh don’t ruin my emo complex. Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy. A tragedy.”

The slightest feigned annoyance melts from the older’s face and he closes his eyes, hand holding the rose collapsing onto the bench with a thud. At this point, the concern in Jeongguk rises to a level higher than the Everest of melodrama in Shakespeare’s plays.

He sits down on the space beside Taehyung without hesitation. Gently, he asks, “Hyung what’s wrong?”

“The world is heating up like an oven, North Korea can’t stop playing with its toys and the most influential country in the world is ruled by a Cheetos chip.”

“Hyung.”

Jeongguk is almost sorry for his harsh tone when Taehyung purses his lips forlornly and lets out a soft sigh. After wetting his lips, the other relents as he sits up to a straighter posture. He says, “Parents. They fought again this morning.”

Oh.

Jeongguk can barely imagine that a ball of fluffiness like Taehyung has such a familial background. He watches the other hold up the rose again with a pout that makes Jeongguk want to suffocate him with a hug.

“They’ve been arguing since I was young. Things were quieter in my teens but, I don’t know why they’re starting again. It just makes me very…” Taehyung draws a long breath. “Very sad. Angry? I don’t even know. It just makes me question relationships. I used to think that they love each other but now it’s just all shit. Utter crap. As much as I believe in love, they make me question it so much.”

Jeongguk simply keeps quiet. He can neither say that he understands nor squeeze Taehyung’s hand because he isn’t in a position to do both, so he keeps quiet. Without warning, Taehyung thrusts the rose in Jeongguk’s direction. “Take it. This reminds me of my mother too much.”

Jeongguk stares at it with wide eyes and says, “Um maybe I really shouldn’t.” “Yah just take it that wasn’t a question,” Taehyung rebuts, smacking Jeongguk on the chest with the rose head.

There isn’t much choice when you are face to face with a fuming puppy. Puppies can be vicious and Jeongguk knows from experience. Taking the rose into his hand, he grouses, “You’re really scary when you’re upset you know.”

Taehyung sticks his tongue out at Jeongguk and he pushes the older’s head away with his index finger lightly while Taehyung sways along with the motion like a palm tree in the wind before sticking his tongue out again. Despite feeling his heart skip a beat, Jeongguk scoffs.

Conceal don’t feel.

“Where did you even get it from?”

“The information counter. It’s roses today.”

Just then, a voice crackles in the announcement system overhead, “The library is closing in half an hour. Please vacate the premises as soon as possible. Thank you.” Taehyung stands up from his seat and tells Jeongguk, “I have to go. See you outside.”

Then he disappears down the stairs. Jeongguk twirls the rose between his fingers before getting onto his feet as well. His books and stationery are still downstairs and in need of imminent retrieval if he wants to avoid them getting confiscated by the staff for the third time, aka Taehyung coming after his ass.

The library is nearly empty by the time he reaches his table and he stuffs his texts into his drawstring bag. All the action is to distract himself from Taehyung’s words earlier on, he knows.

Why does it feel as if Taehyung has been trying to hint something at him? Especially the petal plucking escapade. Jeongguk is slow at reading between the lines, he knows that too. Taehyung has told him that he should be doing better as a literature major.

Jeongguk puts on his jacket and swings his bag over his shoulder, then makes his way towards the entrance. At nine in the night, the street outside the library is unusually quiet like it always is. He guesses that it’s the effect of a studying district. One library building, a high school and two universities around the corner can do so much to the atmosphere.

He still holds the rose in his hand as he loiters around the entrance, not wanting to squash the flower in his bag. There aren’t many people walking past him which is a fortunate thing. He looks like he’s about to propose to someone.

The thought brings heat to his cheek when Taehyung’s name comes into his head. Proposing? Ha that’s funny. Jeongguk leans against the cement walls beside the glass doors at the entrance and wobbles his knees to keep himself warm. Although there is no wind, the temperatures dip close to freezing at night in autumn.

The hum of the glass doors opening stir Jeongguk from his trance and Taehyung steps out decked in a light brown, woollen trench coat with a red backpack that Jeongguk is accustomed to seeing. Taehyung offers Jeongguk a small smile before falling into steps with him.

They head to the bus stop without any conversing, then Jeongguk upon feeling the rough stem under his fingers, asks, “Do you still think Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy?” “Totally,” Taehyung answers, turning to look at Jeongguk seriously, “Everybody dies.”

Jeongguk chuckles at the older’s stubbornness. “Granted, some people die. But you’re forgetting the comic in front of the tragedy.” At this, Taehyung makes a face and says, “Yes smartass.”

And Jeongguk for the life of him cannot think of any other things to say although there’s that fiery ball of something which has been growing inside him the entire day. With the rose in hand and Seohyun’s words in his head, he’s tempted to say and do something stupid.

The white lights of the bus stop and advertisement boards begin to come into view after a few minutes’ walk and Jeongguk halts in his footsteps. Taehyung stops walking to cast a surprised look over his shoulder.

Hurrying back to where Jeongguk is standing, he asks, brows furrowing together, “Is everything okay?” His worried face is half illuminated by the street lights and Jeongguk thinks there’s nothing more adorable than Taehyung’s scrunched up brows and slightly reddened cheeks from the cold.

Jeongguk stretches his hand outwards with the rose in his grasp and clears his throat, “Take it back.” An amused smile eases the older’s tensed expression as he relaxes back on the heels of his feet. He asks, “Why should I?”

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Romeo and Juliet, Act 2 Scene 2,” he replies. Taehyung cocks his head and Jeongguk recalibrates his expression, eyes looking into the other’s.

He doesn’t know what exactly he’s doing so the words spin off from the top of his head. “We’ll have a quote competition about roses. If you lose you take the rose,” he blurts. Taehyung gives him an incredulous look and says, “It’s 5 goddamn degrees out here my brain can’t work.”

“We only have five minutes until the bus comes. I’ll start. The fragrance always stays in the hand that gives the rose, George William Curtis.”

“Ah seriously… Love planted a rose and the world turned sweet, Katharine Lee Bates.”

“He that dares not grasp the thorn should never crave the rose, Anne Bronte.”

“Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defence, Mark Overby.”

“The rose speaks of love silently, in a language known only to the heart, um. Shit I don’t know who this is from.”

“Ha too bad,” Taehyung mocks, “You can complain because roses have thorns, or—”

“Or you can rejoice because thorns have roses. Pablo Picasso,” Jeongguk cuts in softly. It’s the one he’s been waiting for. He’s seen the quote on Taehyung’s lock screen a few times and he hopes it means a lot to him.

Well at least it means a lot to him in this situation.

Taehyung opens his mouth to continue, the falters when he catches on to Jeongguk’s tone. He turns away from Jeongguk’s gaze after a meaningful minute. As his cheeks flush redder, Jeongguk knows that the older realises something is up.

Nevertheless, Taehyung complains, “Yah stop looking at me like that.” “Even a rose fades and dies with the winter, but their love is red through winter and strong in the frost,” Jeongguk pushes on, feeling the embarrassment catching up on him as his cheeks start to heat up. He holds up the rose for Taehyung.

“Wh-who said that bullshit?” the older says and eyes the rose, his eyes flicking between Jeongguk and the flower. Jeongguk answers, “Me. I wrote that bullshit for my critical analysis end of year paper. It wasn’t written with you in mind but but but—”

“But but but but but but,” Taehyung teases, “But what?” He then plucks the rose out of Jeongguk’s fingers.

“But—”

“But but but.”

“Oh my god I can’t do this anymore you know what I mean, right?” Jeongguk deadpans. He’s cringing too hard at himself but the sparkling in Taehyung’s eyes is intense by now. “I mean I really like you and you’re very pretty like this rose and maybe if you will give this a chance—”

The words in his mouth wither as Taehyung breaks away from his mask of coolness and laughs for the first time in the day. Before Jeongguk comprehends what is happening, Taehyung leans forward and wraps his arms around his stiffened body, engulfing him in a layer of warmth.

Jeongguk nuzzles his face in the crook of his neck and oh god, he can feel every hot puff of breath from Taehyung on his jaw. Then his head clears. A lot of cheering sounds inside his head and he hides a smile in the older’s hair while putting his arms around the other.

“You’re so annoying, Jeon Jeongguk.”

Breathing into the mess that is Taehyung’s hair, he asks, “Is that a yes ‘let’s date’ or no ‘I hate you Jeon Jeongguk’?”

“It’s called a ‘fuck you took really long I thought you weren’t interested in me you had me scared for a month’ you know I was questioning myself every day I even plucked those rose petals in front of you—”

With the warmth of the kiss on Taehyung’s forehead tingling on his lips, Jeongguk smiles at Taehyung who simply blinks as if he’s seen a magic trick that he cannot understand. The other opens and closes his mouth like a fish, unable to say anything. Jeongguk realises it’s the first time he shuts Taehyung up so completely that day and not the other way round.

Their faces are mere breaths away when the older says, “You’re really annoying, Jeon Jeongguk. Really annoying.” “Oh really? Then…” Jeongguk quips and pulls away from him, only for Taehyung to whine and latch onto him in a quick hop.

“Fucking annoying. Don’t do that again.”

“Hmm yes boss.”

“Kiss me on the lips.”

Jeongguk looks at Taehyung with false concern and answers, “Are you sure you want to go to that so fast? And we shouldn’t do it here in public.” “There’s nobody around and that wasn’t a question you—” Taehyung abruptly squeaks as Jeongguk tilts his head, lips locking onto Taehyung’s.

Second time. Jackpot.

[AO3 | the night radio]

#the night radio #taekook #vkook #taehyung #jungkook #jeongguk #bts #bangtan #bts fics #taekook fic #taekook fanfiction #bts fanfic

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hkeath-blog · 7 years

Text

This was odd

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? -More milk 2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day? -Yes ☺️ 3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? -junkmail haha 4: how do you take your coffee/tea? -cold coffee cold tea 5: are you self-conscious of your smile? -Yes! 6: do you keep plants? -alive? No. 7: do you name your plants? -nope 8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? -🤷🏼‍♀️ 9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? -kinda yes 10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? -all of the above 11: what's an inner joke you have with your friends? -"Prob won't" 12: what's your favorite planet? -Earth.. haha 13: what's something that made you smile today? -New job! 14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? -A mansion haha 15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! -nah 16: what's your favorite pasta dish? -ALL PASTA! 17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? -Nothing, Love where it's at! 18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. -Eating cheese in my sleep 19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? -nope never have 20: what's your favorite eye color? -My husbands 21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that's been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. -Don't think I have one 22: are you a morning person? -Yes ❤️ 23: what's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? -binge watch Netflix duh 24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? -Hubs 25: what's the weirdest place you've ever broken into? -An abandoned trailer house, found a bunch of creeepy stuff 26: what are the shoes you've had for forever and wear with every single outfit? -flip flops 🙈 27: what's your favorite bubblegum flavor? -super minty! 28: sunrise or sunset? -sunrise! 29: what's something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? -Hmm 30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared? -Yes 31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. -I actually hate wearing socks 32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. -Went on the rooftop of an old building downtown and looked at the stars 33: what's your fave pastry? -cheese danish 34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it? -a build a bear and idk where it's at 35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? -I do! And no :( 36: which band's sound would fit your mood right now? -Keith urban always 37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? -clean 38: tell us about your pet peeves! -lying!!!! Ignoring me, not listening, having to repeat myself.. I have a few 39: what color do you wear the most? -black or blue 40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what's it's story? does it have any meaning to you? -wedding ring, has more meaning than I have room to type 41: what's the last book you remember really, really loving? -the choice by Nicholas sparks 42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it! -iced coffee from Starbucks is unbeatable 43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? -KRK 44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? -now 45: do you trust your instincts a lot? -50/50 46: tell us the worst pun you can think of. -no. 47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe? -seafood minus shrimp 48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? -snakes, kinda but I've got bigger fears now 49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? -not anymore 50: what's an odd thing you collect? -cards from people haha 51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? -"My everything" 52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far? -baby memes 53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? -beetle juice, pulp fiction 54: who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? -mom 55: what's the most dramatic thing you've ever done to prove a point? -idk 56: what are some things you find endearing in people? -ability to forgive and forget so easily 57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? -no 58: who's the wine mom and who's the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why? -kynzi-keeley 59: what's your favorite myth? -you can't get pregnant when on top.. haha 60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? -no 61: what's the stupidest gift you've ever given? the stupidest one you've ever received? - 62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind? -if I do it's apple juice 63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? -no 64: what color is the sky where you are right now? -black 65: is there anyone you haven't seen in a long time who you'd love to hang out with? -my niece 66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? -look @ snapchat filter 67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? -chill 68: what's winter like where you live? -not good enough 69: what are your favorite board games? -monopoly and life 70: have you ever used a ouija board? -nope 71: what's your favorite kind of tea? -sweet 72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you'll forget it? -YES 73: what are some of your worst habits? -biting my nails 74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. -sassy 75: tell us about your pets! -English bulldog, lab mix, French bulldog! All bratty :) 76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren't? -sleeping 77: pink or yellow lemonade? -strawberry* 78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub? -no 79: what's one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? -he's done a ton of cute things 80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? -tan, no 81: describe one of your friend's eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. -ocean haha 82: are/were you good in school? -yes 83: what's some of your favorite album art? -idk 84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? -none yet 85: do you read comics? what are your faves? -nope 86: do you like concept albums? which ones? -nope 87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? -war room 88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? -no 89: are you close to your parents? -yes 90: talk about your one of you favorite cities. -I love love love fayetteville 91: where do you plan on traveling this year? -punta cana! 92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? -drowns 93: what's the hairstyle you wear the most? -up :( 94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday? -keeley 95: what are your plans for this weekend? -not shit haha 96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? -procrastinate 97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? -huh 98: when's the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? -a month ago, yes 99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. -song for dad, many many more 100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? -past, only if I could keep the knowledge I have now

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warmau · 7 years

Note

your neighbor aus are so cute!! can you do jun, jeonghan, and hansol please??

aww thank you!! sure, ill also add in dino to complete the neighbor!17 series ~

joshua, mingyu & seungkwan can be found (here) ~wonwoo, hoshi & seungcheol can be found (here) ~ seokmin, woozi & minghao can be found (here) !~

Jun

you’re pretty sure you saw him in a movie once, but you’re not a hundred percent sure. everyone in the building is sure they’ve seen him on tv,,,,but was it a movie? a commercial? a show? no one ever truly finds out,,,,,

sometimes every1 is like “he looks too rich to be living here”

but tbh jun loves the attention like he won’t admit it outloud but please,,,,,,,he probably poses in the elevator ever so subtly and everyone is like oh my look at how handsome and in jun’s head he’s like ‘mhm this is my angle take it all in, i look great from a 45 degree tilt to the left’

jun is doing the most basically

model walks in his plaid pajama bottoms and flip flops, bends and snaps when he throws out the garbage. you will nEVER catch him off guard

his apartment is pretty cool though because jun is the type to splurge. so like big TV,,,expensive blankets,,,,,,,probably one of those glass coffee tables that are super fancy and jun doesn’t even know he has expensive tastes it’s just like second nature to him

oh and he has mirrors

like a lot of them

when will any of us reach this level of Self Confidence t b h

and you’re like pretty familiar with jun because photography is your hobby and he’s always asking you if you guys bump into each other if you can ever help him take some headshots since he wants to try out for modeling

like you always agree but halfheartedly because you’re not sure if you want to work with someone,,,,,,,,,,as high maintenance as he seems

but one day you get caught by jun coming back from the park where you took some photos and he’s like are you free now??? and you’re like mIGht as well get it over with,,,,,,,,,

so you tell him yes and that he should come over since you have some lighting equipment @ your place

and jun,,,,you notice as you’re setting up is a little fidgety. like he keeps looking at his reflection in his phone and biting back his lip and you’re like ???? i thought he was like super confident about his looks but he seems,,,,nervous

and you’re like “are you ok?” and jun snaps out of it and desperately seems to try and hide his feelings with a sly looking grin and he’s like “of course~!”

and you ask him to sit and face forward and,,,,,he does but then he like tilts his head a bit and you’re like “i need you to look straight if you want me to get a good shot” and he’s like oh! sorry

and he does it but you can see his eyes flashing worry and you’re like “,,,,hey are you really ok?”

and jun laughs, again obviously hiding what he’s really feeling and he’s like “fine! i just don’t think i look too great if you see all of my face like this”

and you damn near drop your camera because what the HELL is he talking about and you even say it, like literally, you’re like what the hell are you talking about

and jun scratches the back of his neck and tries to wave it off but he’s like “i look the worst from the front, my angle and profile is way be-”

and you’re like picking your camera back up and you’re like “you look like a handsome actor up front, don’t even say something like that.” and jun looks at the lense and you snap a couple of photos then go over to show him

and you’re like “look at your jaw, and your skin??? it’s a gorgeous color, softly tan,,,,and your eyes are so strong and distinctive?? your nose is like the perfect size! you don’t even need touch ups - you’re naturally stunning.”

and you don’t notice it but jun is looking up at you and his smile turns into a bit of a smirk and he’s like “you think im stunning?”

and you’re like yes!! and his smirk gets bigger and he’s like “i think you’re pretty stunning too-”

and you’re like me???? what- but then you catch the smirk from the corner of your eye and you like playfully push his shoulder and tell him not tease

but jun shrugs and he’s like “what, it’s true. you’re very nice to look at too.”

and you brush it off, hiding your face behind your camera as you get ready to take more photos of him

but you know,,,,,,turns out he isn’t all that high maintenance,,,,,,,tbh he listens really well to you and you get a lot of shots

and as you’re both looking at them you feel jun’s hand sneak around your shoulder,,,,his body closer to yours but like,,,,,,,you don’t mind,,,,,,,i mean,,,,,,,,,,,,,who would mind lbr

jun insists that he should pay you back for taking his photo and you’re like it’s fine and then he’s like ‘ok, then let me just take you out on a date because i really really want to.’ and you’re like DONT joke about that but jun’s like im not joking????? let’s go on a date??? gorgeous people need to stick together you know~~~~

Jeonghan

the neighbors call him ‘the perfect son-in-law’

because they want all their daughters to get married to him because he seems like the perfect man: good looks, good manners, good brains like WOW the whole damn package

and jeonghan is always so humble and modest about the nickname he’s like “marriage? oh im not ready” or “im nothing compared to your daughter”

(but in reality he’s just like lol please leave me alone i want to go home and take a nap. he’s just,,,,not saying that because that would be rude LOL)

he’s always really soft looking. like he never leaves the house with bed head, owns many warm looking sweaters, always reading some classic literature and seemingly listening to au clair de la lune

just a real live fairy human,,,,angel,,,,,,,glowing force of beauty?

and his apartment is the same. like fight me on this but jeonghan would have some dried flowers hanging on his walls, paintings by like monet, a fuzzy white carpet, and like vintage looking furniture you’d feel like you were in a story book

and he like even set up a little corner of his apartment with a drawing easel,,,,,,,,like im talking instagram level aesthetic here

collects like ,,,, idk,,,,,,, little glass statues or something like bare with me it’s just so pretty because he’s so pretty

and you know him (how could you not) because every time you two leave at the same time he smiles kindly at you and you’re just like wow. this day? blessed

but one day you’re coming home and you’re in the wORST mood because of work/school plus you got soaked in the rain since your bus came late and you get into the elevator with jeonghan who smiles at you but you can’t even bring yourself to feel the usual happiness you do when he does that

and the elevator ride is slow up but then suddenly you feel something warm on your wet shirt

and it’s jeonghan putting his cardigan around your shoulders and he’s like “you can catch a cold walking around like that.”

and like holy shit an angel just touched you but also you’re like ,,,,, i,,,,,,i can’t take this from you

but jeonghan is like don’t worry, also make some tea when you get inside.

and you both split ways when the elevator door opens and you’re inside your apartment looking down at the cardigan in your hands and you’re like ?!?!?!?!?! what,,,,just,,,,,,happened

and the next morning you plan to return it but before you do you close the door and see a note stuck to the front and it reads ‘keep the cardigan. i hope you don’t get sick.’ and you’re like ,,,,,,,,,,, am i dreaming

but you hear another door unlock and you look over to see jeonghan again and you have no clue what to say because the most beautiful person on earth is being so sweet to you

and he smiles again when he meets your gaze and he’s like “glad you’re not sick” and you’re like “um,,,,thank,,,thank you for worrying about me?” and jeonghan shrugs and he’s like

“ive always worried about you, you come home looking tired and i hope you’re not overdoing it.” and you can’t help but want to like d i e because,,,,w h a t,,,, he’s been worrying about you???? what kind of romance movie plot,,,,,

but then jeonghan leans a little closer and he’s like “if you feel sick, knock on my door. i have some medicine and ginger my mother sent over.” and you’re like ,,,,o,,,,,okay,,,,,,,

and jeonghan touches your cheek softly and heads for the stairs

and you’re like am i imagining things or is,,,, ‘the perfect son in-law’ interested in me,,,,,,,

but no you’re not imagining things because jeonghan stops midway down the stairs and is like leaning against the wall because he’s happy you’re not sick but gOD he really just invited you over,,,,,,to his house,,,,the neighbor he’s liked for so long,,,,,,,,,,,,

Vernon

tries to act cool and independent but always has to call over someone to kill any bugs he finds in his house

he’s got really bad luck because while he tries to look aloof and grown up he ends up tripping over things or walking into walls or getting himself stuck between the elevator doors and ,,,,,,,,, everyone in the building is like “he’s such a cute kid!” and vernon is like im NOT a kid,,,,,,,,,,,

but c’mon he once screamed because he thought the shadow of the neighborhood cat was a ghost

but this unconscious dorkiness is what makes him so lovable and everyone’s always asking him to say something in english and vernon is like “good morning” and everyone’s like WOW SKILL TALENT

the type to ride a scooter everywhere,,,,,,,,seungcheol passes by on his bike and is like ??? and vernon is like “scooters are the new Aesthetic”

has one of those cool beds that’s like a bunkbed but the top is the bed and the bottom is a desk area

and he’s bought a lot of composing equipment and he has a collection of headphones and other cool things that pertain to music all around his apartment

and it isn’t that messy, but it’s all in dark tones like his little sister visits and always insists that vernon change his bed sheets from grey to like yellow and vernon is like ‘im a cool guy, cool guys don’t have yellow sheets’ and his sister is like uh huh ok

you actually don’t know vernon that well, but you know his sister because you work part-time at a grocery around the block from your building and when she visits vernon she always stops by to get food and complain a bit about how brother n EVER eats actual meals

and you think she’s the most adorable girl on this side of the planet so you always sneak in free ice-cream or candy for her

and as you’re getting home from your shift one day, the elevator opens and there’s vernon and his sister and once she sees you she’s like !!!!!!! and drags vernon over to you and she’s like

“i didn’t know you lived here too!!! this is the brother im always talking about, are you guys friends???” and you and vernon are both embarrassingly like not really,,,

and his sister pouts and she’s like “when im not around, can you take care of him for me? im worried he’s not getting enough sun and -”

and vernon coughs because sOFIA you’re embarrassing,,,,,me,,,,,

but you’re like “ok, i will!! good neighbors take care of each other ^^”

and vernon kind of tries hard to keep from turning pink when you ask if that’s ok with him and he’s like ,,,,,, sure anything to calm down my sister

and it’s funny because sofia is looking between you and vernon and she’s like

“you’d look cute together you know, my brother is single-”

and vernon is like OOOO KA ay,,,,,,time to go nice talking to you neighbor bye bye

and you watch as he like dashes off and he’s like c’mon sofia but she stays back a bit and leans over like

“i think he’s shy,,,,,he’s like that. but it’s a good sign, i think he’s interested too~~”

and you’re like oh my,,,,,,,

but also can you believe sofia. the real matchmaker mvp

Dino

get mistaken for someone who doesn’t live alone, but who still lives with their parents because what???? you can afford to pay rent on your own?????

but tbh he’s quite independent, and a quick learner like ask any of the other seventeen neighbors who self taught themselves to make chicken tenders from scratch??? no one. except dino who learned from the nice grandma down the hall

sometimes gets in trouble for playing music too loud but he’s too cute for any1 to stay mad at for 2 long

can be spotted playing tag with the younger kids if their parents have to go get groceries or something, he gets a side job as a babysitter sometimes because kids love him???? he’s so good with them because he has so much energy??

his own apartment is a lot like him, it’s colorful and the most important thing is his speakers that are the only thing he keeps relatively clean. his desk is littered with clothes and notebooks and candy wrappers from late night snacks

has photos of his parents performances up on his wall and in his closet he has it separated into : dance costumes and normal clothes

all his refrigerator magnets are in the shape of dinos,,,how cute

he practices dancing by himself late into the night so a lot of the time he ends up getting hungry and ordering pizza on a whim and,,,,,one day he gets a pizza but it’s like???? an extra large size because the orders got screwed up and dino is like: i cannot. finish this

and he considers calling vacuum cleaner hyung (minghao + mingyu) but it’s late so instead he’s like “maybe the neighbor will want some!!!”

that neighbor is you,,,,,he’s also up doing some late night work and when you hear the doorbell you’re like ?????? it’s 1 in the morning,,,,,is it a robber??? and you grab a nearby pot just in case but when you open the door slowly

you just see dino,,,,,with his kindhearted smile and a plate stacked with??? pizza slices

and he’s like “i don’t know if you like pizza, but i have a lot left over and i thought if you were awake you’d like some !!!” and he grins and puts out the plate and you’re like ???? but also,,,,,,,,pizza for FREE,,,,,,,yum yum

and you gladly accept and dino is like happy because he’s made you happy and for a second you two stand there a bit awkwardly and you’re like “do you want to come in?” and dino is like “well,,,,it’s late but we never properly introduced ourselves as neighbors so??”

and you’re like it’s fine come in sorry for the mess and you go over to your kitchen, dino following behind and you’re like “so why are you up at this ungodly hour?” and dino is like “im practicing!! i dance~” and you’re like OOOO show me

and dino clears your sofa a bit and starts busting out all these cool moves and you’re eating pizza and clapping and you’re like encore!!! as a silly joke but he really does start doing another routine

and you’re like holy hell i never knew i lived next door to such a talented person!!

and dino blushes red and he’s like “im still practicing, it’s just a hobby for now,,,,” but you’re like “seriously, you could be a PRO, you should try becoming an idol?”

and dino is like wHA,,,, i could NEVER and you’re like “you’d do great!! you’re a nice person, you dance well, and you’re cute!” and the word cute just makes dino scrunch up his nose,,,,,but he likes it and he’s like

“maybe ill look around for some auditions!!” and you set down the pizza to give him a thumbs up and you’re like “once you become an idol, ill be your number one fan - i promise~” and dino is like alsfgkfsdkh don’t say that that’s so cheesy

but you’re like “you know what’s really cheesy? this FREE PIZZA”

dino: “good pun!!!!!!!!!!!”

you: “i know right!!!!!!”

you’re both laughing so damn hard you accidentally wake the other neighbors LOL

1K notes · View notes

gregsdarkcorner-blog · 6 years

Text

Feeding Black

She could feel their eyes staring at her, could almost hear their little giggles, could almost see their blushes when they met her eyes. And why not? Amanda Hartz knew she was pretty: long blonde hair, piercing green eyes, soft pink lips, nicely toned skin. But it was hard not to develop some ego about her looks. She tried her hardest to be a sweet person--not someone who knew they had the looks and act like they owned the world because God (well, maybe not God, but good genes) had given the gift of looks. She had gone to college with stuck ups, both women and men, and she knew the guys had jerked off thinking about her when they weren’t in class and the women often getting jealous or looked at her like some kind of competition to look better than her. But those days were nearly over, and she couldn’t wait to move on with her life. It was within her reach, and she could almost grasp it--it was late April, and she’d be graduating next month, and after that she’ll be assigned to her actual first teaching job. Here she was now, in some giant wooden playground in Newfield, New York: a quiet little town just within the outskirts of Ithaca--a town she never knew existed until she was assigned here. She had come from Mihalis, New York (a town about 35 minutes away north of Newfield, near Cortland) after learning to teach English to 11th grade high school students. They were difficult to teach. Not only because they were teens and their moods could change like a sunny day suddenly erupted with a violent thunderstorm no one had predicted, but because the boys had looked at her with sexual interest. She’d had caught some of them staring at her butt, at her breasts, and some--when she was wearing sandals or flip-flops--at her feet. Some had even been brave enough and flirted with her. Some were quiet and blushed when she looked at them or had them talked during class. But these were third graders, and they weren’t looking at her with sexual interest. They simply adored her, nothing more. She thought that was cute. It was recess, and the kids were chasing each other (shouting “Tag you’re it” when one kid was able to barely touch the kid he or she was chasing), swinging on the swings, sliding down the slides. They were playing. They were contented. The playground was theirs, and they were owning it right now. Amanda was reminded of childhood. It was a time, really, when one was pure innocent. They weren’t thinking about sex, about drugs, about risking of getting their asses thrown in jail and doing time. No. They were thinking of becoming astronauts, doctors, police officers, teachers, actors, writers, video game designers, singers, and so on. Okay, maybe some of them weren’t as innocent, but they didn’t understand what bullying could do to the victim child down the long road ahead. True. But at least these kids were nothing like the high school kids back in Mihalis. She’d had enough of that. Though these kids reminded her of innocence, Amanda couldn’t help but feel sadness. Her father had died when she was a teenager, killed by a drunk driver who’s slammed his big mighty truck into his little beat up Volkswagen Beetle. The driver, a man in the name of Tim Holly, got a sentence of fifteen to thirty years in prison. No matter how long the sentence was for Tim, it wasn’t enough to bring her father back. Nothing will. Standing next to her was Ms. Bird, the teacher who happened to be helping her teach--a woman Amanda didn’t care for. Ms. Bird was old, really old, and about to retire, for one. And she was a complete bitch. Amanda admired the third graders, she didn’t like the way Ms. Bird taught her classes. It was as if the old hag didn’t care much for students. Amanda have had rumors about Ms. Bird’s old ways of teaching. Back in her early days she’d go around and whack students’ hands with a ruler if they were looking at her in a wrong way. Or how she’d shout and curse at them if one of them decided to get her angry. She didn’t know if these rumors were true, but she wouldn’t be surprised if they were. Watching the third graders play and feeling a ping of sadness about her father, Amanda was erupted by the old crone: “...Cory?” Amanda gave her a sideway glance: “What was that?” “I asked you where’s Cory? I haven’t seen him. Little twit must be hiding at the back. He always does. Go fetch him, Amanda. I don’t trust him doing whatever he’s doing back there. It can’t be good. Nothing he does is ever good.” Do it yourself, Amanda almost said, but bit her tongue. She had to teach alongside with Ms. Bird. She was a student teacher afterall, and she felt if she said one wrong thing Ms. Bird would surely show her true nasty side. And the crone gave her a confident look that meant I’m not going anywhere. My ass stays right here. I’m old and you’re young. We old depend on you young to do our dirty work. I’m a bitch and I know it, and you are a stuck up little cunt who likes to get her way, but I’m letting you do that. Oh no, I’m not letting you get your way. Behind her cat-like glasses, Linda Bird’s eyes burned with a seriousness Amanda sure felt like she had X-ray vision and was looking straight into her. She shivered. “Okay,” Amanda said at last. “I’ll go look for him for you.” Ms. Bird smiled, and it looked like a mad woman’s smile...a smile that meant she was about to do something bad (like how a woman would smile to her man right before she kills him). “Good. I’ll be waiting here.” I’m sure you will. Amanda left Ms. Bird behind as she strolled toward the back of the playground. Between two structures that looked like giant wooden castles was a narrow, stoney path which led to the back. As she walked in the path, two kids ran past her. One was a shy kid named Austin Brown, whose face turned red when he saw who he was running by. The other was Tim Foster, who was a lot braver than Austin. He said, “Hi, Ms. Hartz,” as he ran past her, chasing Austin. “Hi,” she replied, her feet still carrying her to the back of the playground. She came to a T at the end of the path. To the right led a very narrow path between the fence that surrounded the playground and a wooden castle like structure. Even though she was thin, Amanda knew it’d be difficult to squeeze between the fence and the wooden structure. To the left of the T was a wider path, and Amanda went that way than trying to squeeze her way through the narrow gap. She’d also seen Cory running out this path when either Ms. Bird or Mr. Gibbons blew the whistle when recess was over. She knew there was a small metal slide back here, but she didn’t know what Cory would be doing. He didn’t play with the other kids, Amanda was certain. He was an odd kid, always wearing black clothing, paint his lips with black lipstick, and draw dark circles around his eyes. Cory was a goth kid, and Amanda wasn’t sure she’ve had seen a goth third grader before. It seemed he liked to challenge Ms. Bird in class. Amanda had heard that Cory had once cursed out in class, telling Ms. Bird to fuck off. She’d sent him to the office, and Cory was forced to leave the school for a few days. According to the rumors, Amanda heard his parents couldn’t care less, as if he’d done the most normal thing in class. Cory was new here in Newfield this year, coming from a small town of Charlottesville, New York, about two hours away. Nobody--not even the teachers, it seemed--knew much about him, other than he was a very quiet goth kid who liked to be alone and liked to give Ms. Bird a hard time. She came to a wide open area of the playground. To her left was the metal slide. There wasn’t a kid sliding down the slide, or kids running around in the empty space. None whatsoever. Cory was sitting at the bottom of the slide. His hands cupped, he was staring at something within those small hands. As she drew closer to him, Amanda had an odd sensation she was being watched. The hairs on her arms stood up. Her eyes wandered. Near her, at the bottom of the wooden castle, few pieces of the siding were gone, revealing a hidden chamber within. The chamber was about her height, and it was so dark she couldn’t see who was in there...if there was anybody in there in the first place. Though something caught her off guard, and she had to look twice to make sure what she saw was actually real. The darkness was thick, but she could have swore she saw it pulsating like a heartbeat, ripples moving within this darkness. It seemed alive, as if the darkness itself were a living, breathing, pulsating mass of nothingness that was somehow alive. It’s your eyes playing tricks on you. Like they always do at night, your eyes like to play tricks within the dark. They’re doing the same thing here. But were they? Amanda turned her attention to Cory, who glanced at her, gave her a smile, and a wave of sadness ran across his face. “Figures,” he said, “she has to send you, not herself.” “What?” Amanda asked. “Ms. Bird. She sends you to get me instead of herself. She knows. She’s not stupid. I’m sorry, Ms. Hartz.” Amanda frowned. There was sadness in his brown eyes, a deep sadness Amanda wasn’t comfortable with. It was sadness she’d seen at funerals, watching those closest to the one had recently passed cried (or if they weren’t crying, that deep sorrowness was present in their eyes). It was as if he was looking at her like she’s already dead, and that terrified her. “Cory. What are you talking about? Why are you looking at me like that? Why don’t you like Ms. Bird. What do you have in your hands?” Not answering her rapid questions, Cory looked away from her and stared at the darkened chamber. He shook his head, his brown hair waving a little. He said, “I don’t think I can do this anymore, Ms. Hartz. It’s getting hungrier and hungrier. I don’t know how long I’m able to control it. It’s eating on its own, always have before I came. Yet it relies on me, always trying to lure so it can eat. I don’t know what it is. I don’t think we’ll ever know. It’s old, I know that. Really old, but nobody will ever understand it. I don’t understand it.” He gave a serious look at Amanda so intense she could feel the look burn in her bones. “I call it Black. It seems to like it. It’s hungry, Ms. Hartz, and it only gets hungrier everytime it eats. I don’t know if I can control it anymore.” Before she could ask Cory what the blue hell he was talking about, a whistle blew like a fire alarm across the playground, signalling the children to line up at the entrance so they could walk across the parking lot, heading back to school. Cory shot up like he’d heard a gunshot and ran in the direction Amanda had come. “Wait,” Amanda said. Before turning the corner, Cory stopped and gave Amanda a sad look, still holding the mysterious object in his cupped hands. Amanda stopped walking at once, her heart now poundling like a jackhammer in her chest. It was a farewell, final look he was giving, as if this was the last time he would ever see her again...and within a couple of minutes, it would be his last time seeing her alive. “I’m sorry, Ms. Hartz,” Cory said again. “It was supposed to be Ms. Bird, not you.” He disappeared around the corner. “Cory, wait!” she said. “Amanda.” It was the voice she wanted to hear again. It was the voice she’d grown up with and come to love. It was the voice she missed often hearing, not realizing how much she’d missed it until it was gone out of her life for good. It was the voice of her father. She looked within the darkened chamber and all at once her emotions poured out of her like water spilling out of a broken vase. Within that pulsating darkness was her dead father. He wore the same clothes he’d died in: a gray t-shirt, blue jeans, steel toed boots. He was holding his arms out, as if trying to embrace her from afar. “Amanda, sweet one. It’s me. Dad. It’s me sweet one. It’s really me.” A part of her screamed No, this isn’t your dad. Something’s mimicking your dad (I call it Black it seems to like it it’s hungry Ms. Hartz and it only gets hungrier everytime it eats) and another part of her--and this part would cost her life--was overtaken by the desire to feel, to smell, to be held by her father again. She ran without hesitation, her face red and tears streaming down her face, her arms reach out for him. Amanda ran into the pulsating darkness. She hugged her father, and he embraced her with welcoming (and hungry) arms. “Oh sweet one, I missed you so much,” her father said. “I’ve been watching over, and I’m proud of you, love. I’m so proud of you.” “I missed you too, Dad,” Amanda said through her tears. “I want you back, I want you back, Daddy. Please come back.” “Oh, I’m back,” he said, but his voice was distorted, and everytime he spoke from now on his voice became deeper, more distorted, as if he were speaking through water. “I’m back, sweet one. I’m back and I’m gonna eat every inch of your flesh and drink your blood and they’re never gonna find you, sweet one. They’re never gonna find your devoured corpse!” Something wet and warm was forming against her body, and she pushed her father away. His gray shirt was now full of blood. Half of his upper head had caved in, revealing parts of his mangled brain. His eyes were dead white, and his teeth were sharp. “How do you like me now, sweet one?” the thing that wasn’t her father asked. “You see what the idiot Tim did to me? This is what he did to me, sweet one. This is how I died.” Amanda tried to scream. The thing wasn’t her father was quicker. It smashed her face with a solid palm. White hot pain flashed in her eyes as her nose shattered. Blood trickled down from her nostrils. She tried to walk back, but the thing grabbed her and pulled her toward it, its mouth opening impossibly wide, showing rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth. She tried to scratch it, slap at it, punch at it. But its jaws clamped down half of her face, and within seconds half of her head was torn away. She fell toward the thing, dead. It pulled her deeper into the pulsating darkness, where it disappeared like a ghost vanishing at night, Amanda along with it, and neither one had existed in that terrible, pulsating, living darkness…. Linda Bird watched Cory run from the back. Once he got into one of the main two lines of children, she looked toward the T to see if Ms. Hartz was following. She wasn’t. Linda knew then that her plan had worked: Amanda was either dead now or was about to. Either way, Linda Bird had survived another day; and Cory didn’t get his wish. Cory was at the back of the left line, looking at the bird skull in his hands. He’d found it near Black’s domain. He wondered if Black had somehow lured the bird into his death, and as a gift had spit out the bird skull. Cory didn’t know what Black was upto, but he expected Black was saying: Here, kid, give this bird skull to that bitch Ms. Bird. I’d love to get rid of her for you. She knows me for a very long time, and I know her. So go on kid, give her the bird skull to the Bird herself. I’ll be waiting, like always. At the front, other third grade teachers stood around Ms. Bird. Mr. Gibbons gave Ms. Bird an odd look. “Hey, where’s Ms. Hartz?” he asked. “Oh, I send her to fetch Cory. She should be coming any second now. Why don’t you guys head back while I wait? I have to speak to Cory about something.” Mr. Gibbons nodded and said, “Okay, guys, follow us.” Ms. Bird walked right in the middle of the two lines, her eyes focusing on Cory. As they walked passed, Ms. Bird whispered, “It’ll never get me, you little twit.” I wouldn’t be so sure, Cory thought. Together (and keeping their eyes on their shoulders for Ms. Hartz but know neither one of them would see her again), they walked back to school.

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untilthestarsburnoutrp · 7 years

Text

ISIAH.

The only thing Isiah could think of at the moment was how mad Diana would be at him for waking up late. His alarm wasn’t on, he’d forgot to set it the night before. The time read late so Isiah had to hurry himself to get to school on time. The thing is, he stayed in bed for another twenty minutes, not moving at all. Hearing all the screaming that echoed from downstairs finally made him rise.

His mother ran a day care in their house. She was always the first one in the house to wake up because she had preparations to do before the kids got here. They were kids that were too young for school with parents that were too busy with work to watch them. So, they got sent to the Sunny Day’s Day Care where his mom and a couple other helpers would watch the kids until their parents were off work or ready to retrieve them.

Isiah blinked, the sun rays that found their way in through the opening of his blinds were in his eyes as he sat up. Trying hard to shake the fatigue that hung to his body, the senior quickly jumped out of bed to wake himself, but it only caused him to become dizzy and flop back onto the spring mattress.

His phone buzzed shortly after, the sign of a text message. He knew exactly who it was. Diana was pestering him to get to school. ‘You better not be late on the first day Shaun! That doesn’t look good.’

His eyes searched the ceiling before setting it back on the night stand. Though he loved his best friend, she was very controlling and annoying at times. He decided to let her talk to herself while he went to the bathroom for a quick shower and then dressed himself for the day. A simple dark blue turtle neck, blazer, and black trousers with a pair of boots to finish it off. The screams and hollering from the children downstairs could still be heard, but it wasn’t as loud as earlier; his mother must have been handing out snacks. Isiah put all his books in his bag and grabbed his camera from the shelf, his parents got it for him last Christmas and he kept it on the same shelf with his old barely used cameras. For sentimental reasons, he kept them all.

Upon his arrival down stairs he was greeted by a chorus of small voices. A few of the kids have been coming to the Day Care for a while so they knew Isiah’s face. He greeted them back and went to the kitchen. “Mom?”

She was in there making snacks and filling juice cups. She noticed her son by the arch way and smiled. “Mornin baby, I made you breakfast. Sorry to say there’s no more coffee so you’re gonna hafta pick it up on your way to school.”

He exchanged a kiss on the cheek with her before grabbing his plate, he didn’t have time for breakfast but he never skipped on the meals his mom made for him. “Thanks, and that’s fine, I’ll pick up some on the way back from school. Anything else we need?” He leaned against the island, with a fork he pulled from the drawer and ate.

“Well, we need some eggs, and butter, and can you pick up a few potatoes? I wanna make soup for tonight, since the weather is gettin chilly.”

Isiah nods, taking mental note of what she asked for, he would make a list on his phone later, knowing his mother, she would remember more things for the house later on and send it to him. Scooping up the last bit of eggs he placed his plate in the sink and grabbed his coat. “Alright mom, I’ll see ya later.”

She wished him a good day as he left the house and to his car, a used hand-me-down from his dad. As long as it worked he didn’t care so much about the looks. Before driving out, he checked his phone again, Diana had sent five more texts all of which he assumed about him being late for class. Ignoring it, he put his phone away once again and drove to Dunkin Donuts, it was on the way to school so he wasn’t off route.

Now, with his savory French vanilla latte in his hand, he was in a happier mood as he drove towards the school, class started in about five minutes, by the time Isiah would get there he would be a few minutes late, but not long enough to get a slip, not that Professor Froste really enforced that rule anyway. There was a small Chai latte in the cup holder for Diana, a bribe so Shaun wouldn’t have to hear her mouth.

He stepped silently through the hallway not borting to rush or the coffee would be spilled, and he dreaded that though way more than being late for class. When he got to professor Froste’s everyone was already there, so he was the last to arrive. He greeted his teacher with a nod and made his way to the row of seats. Handing Diana her latte he sat down and sighed. Now the Froste wasn’t going to be interrupted again he continued talking about the project the class had to do and Isiah wanted to get up and leave. As cool as a dude Froste was, Isiah loathed joint projects, in the past he was always the one to pick up the slack after his partner or partners would flake out.

Froste left it up to the class to decide who would partner with whom, and Isiah was stuck. Of course, he couldn’t partner with Diana, he already knew everything about her and Froste was aware of their friendship so he wouldn’t allow such an easy A. rapping his nails against the desk and leaned towards his brunette bestie. “Who are you choosing to pair up with?”

Diana looked at him, her lips formed into a slight pout as she shrugged. “I was hoping you and I could partner up, but Jax won’t let that happen.” She took a sip from her Latte and thought. “Now I don’t know who to choose, I could pair up with El, maybe Tara? I’m not sure.” The class was soon filled with a hush murmur as their fellow students were wondering the same thing.

Eden walked up to the two and leaned against the row of desks in front of them. His arms folded on his chest. “Hey you two, Shaun, you were late today. That’s a surprise.”

Isiah knew Eden well, he sometimes came over to Diana’s whenever she would pester him. They didn’t get along well, but they weren’t constantly at each other’s necks either, so that was good enough for him. He flashed Eden a smile. “Yea, woke up late, and needed some coffee. Nice shirt.”

Eden looked at his sweater and raised his brow humorously at Shaun. “Thanks. So, any idea who you’re picking for the project?” When the duo shook their heads Eden huffed.“Me too, I’m shit at drawing so this will not be a fun time.”

Shaun sigh fidgeting with the buttons on his camera. “I hear you, I think the last time I picked up a pencil to draw was back in sixth grade.”

He sputtered a bit when Diana flipped her hair and strand got caught on his face. “What a shame, that’s why you two should do better at being well rounded. I mean, I’m not the best artist at the school, but at least I know how to draw.”

With a sharp intake of air Eden locked at her unimpressed. “Wow, wonderful. Do you want a metal? A cookie? Don’t expect everyone to have the same mind set as you D, what the hell am I gonna do with art? Last time I checked that was not a part of my major.”

Diana returned his comeback with a glare. “So salty, it’s still early and you’re already a Debby downer. I was just saying, you never know when something might come in handy, so it’s good to get in as many skills as possible.”

Isiah watched the whole interaction with mirth. “Not everyone wants to be Wonder woman like you Ana. You’re the only person I know who strives to be good at everything.”

She shrugged, her head a bit swollen from Isiah’s compliment. “Well I can’t help that I have more drive than most.” He eyes cut across the class room to Kaelin. The two boys noticed, both of them getting ready for any insults Diana might hurl Kaelin’s way. “At least I’m out going and confident in myself.”

Eden at this point had a look of exasperation on his face. “Okay, okay. I don’t need a repeat of what you sent me over the phone, for the love god we get it. You don’t like Kaelin.”

Isiah had no idea what they were talking about, Diana also sent him a text message about their shy class mate but he hadn’t checked any of them after he left. Diana was getting defensive now and made a small harrumph of defiance. “Well you know I’m right. She’s so pitiful, it’s sad. I mean look, she’s sitting right next to the guy who she has the hots for and can’t even speak a full sentence to him.” Diana said it loud enough for Kaelin to hear. “It’s pathetic.”

Isiah put a hand on her desk. “Alright. Let’s not start today. Give her a break will you D?”

“Are you sticking up for her Shaun?” Her thin neat eyebrows raised at her question. She hated it when Isiah would stick up for the people she put down. “You’re supposed to be onmy side. Isn’t that what best friends do?”

The senior glowered and looked in the eyes. “You’re being irrational, just because we’re friends doesn’t mean I condone everything you do. Cut that out man, you’re pissing me off.”

Diana only held up he hands and slouched into her seat taking small sips of her coffee. Eden chuckled, and leaned up on the desk, hand gripping the edge. “I don’t know how you do it Shaun, that girl is practically la Diabla in human skin.”

Isiah rubbed his temples, glancing from Diana to Eden. “You get use to it after a while.”

They shared a laugh between them before Eden went back to his seat. Isiah noticed how he sat by himself most of the time. And Eden was a nice guy, he had friends, but with his personality he liked his own company more. Isiah couldn’t blame him, he was the same way when he first came to the school. Not really joining a crowd, just floating from place to place. He still did that, but at least he had Diana even if she was high maintenance.

As the class slowly formed its groups for the project Isiah was getting more restless. He really didn’t want to do this project.

#isiah

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