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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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Serendipity - Part II. (Harry Styles)

a/n: hello lovelies! thank you so much for the likes and reblogs on the first part, i hope you are enjoying the ride so far! here is part 2 for yall and as always, i would LOVE to read your comments and feedbacks!

pairing: Harry x OC (Annalise Lloyd)

word count: 8k

SERIES MASTERPOST ⚫️ my masterlist ⚫️ come and talk to me about Serendipity!

Serendipity (n.) Finding something good without looking for it.

Annalise finishes up the lasagna with shredding some cheese on the top before sliding it right into the oven, listening to Benji reading up the text from his book, struggling with some longer words, but then manages to put it together in his head at the end. The doorbell rings and she tosses the dirty dishes into the sink.

“Good job, Benji. Read that last part,” she smiles down at the boy, sitting at the kitchen island, his legs dangling, hanging down on the tall stool, arms placed on the counter, his eyes following the lines.

“…However… the rabbit… slept longer…” Benji carries on as Annalise walks to the door, already knowing who’s gonna stand on the other side.

“Hi girl!” Chloé smiles at her upon pulling her into a hug before she walks in.

“Hey, I just put the lasagna in,” she smiles back at her best friend.

“Oh, amazing! Hi Benji! How is my favorite little dude?” Chloé scruffs his light brown locks, the little boy smirking up at her as she sits on the stool next to him.

“Hi Chloé! Wanna see my new dinosaur?” he asks, excitement sparkling in his eyes.

“Well of course! You know I love dinosaurs!” she cheers and Benji is already about to climb off the stool, but she stops him.

“Hey, what about reading? Have you finished?”

The look in his eyes tells her the truth that he hasn’t reached the end yet, he sucks his lips into his mouth, trying his best not to smile slyly. She can’t help but chuckle and shake her head at him.

“Okay, you can go,” she sighs and he is fast to shut the book and jolt upstairs to get his newest toys. Annalise just stares after him with a delighted smile.

“So what’s up? I can tell something happened today,” Chloé starts, leaning on her elbows on the counter, eyes examining her friend.

“How can you tell?” she chuckles furrowing her eyebrows as she puts away the leftover ingredients.

“I can see that little shine in your eyes,” she grins pointing at her. “So spill it!”

Sighing she washes her hands and dries them on the kitchen towel before she leans against the counter, folding her arms on her chest.

“Remember the guy I met on New Year’s Eve?” Chloé’s eyes light up at the mention of the mystery guy Annalise met a while ago, but she didn’t tell much about him, just that they had a great time and he kissed her. She was also mad at her when she found out she didn’t even give him her number, but has gotten herself over it by now.

“The musician? Of course!”

“Alright, so there are two things about him,” she starts, wanting to come clear, but right as she would continue, Benji appears, holding his latest toy, a vicious looking T-Rex in his hands.

“Chloé! Look!” he beams, handing her the figure.

“Oh, wow! This looks so cool! Does it have a name?”

“I call him Reggie!” Benji proudly states, making both women smile, because only he would name a murderous dinosaur Reggie.

“Love it, Bud. I’m almost jealous!” Benji grins up at her, hugging the toy to his chest.

“Hey, Benji, why don’t you go watch the telly a little, so we can talk over here?” Annalise asks and he surely likes the idea.

“Bye!” he sings running off without a question and a few moments later they hear the telly turning on with whatever cartoon he has turned on this time. Chloé turns back to Annalise, eager to hear what she has to tell.

“So hot guy musician, go on,” she gestures as Annalise leans onto the kitchen island across her.

“Hot guy musician’s name is Harry Styles,” she mumbles, lowering her voice, as if someone else was around and could hear her say that. At the same time, Chloé’s eyes basically leave his sockets, widened to the point where Annalise thinks she completely zoned out.

“What the fuck?” she whisper-yells, careful not to let Benji hear her cursing. “Lis! That’s like a major point you left out!”

“I know! I just… I never thought I would ever see him again, so I thought I would keep it to myself.”

“Wait, so you met him?” she gasps, almost falling off the stool, making Annalise laugh.

“I ran into him at Tesco today. Totally randomly in the cereal aisle.”

“Oh my God, I think I’m gonna have a heart attack,” Chloé gasps, placing her hands on her chest, taking some deep breaths. “So what happened? Did he recognize you or what? Wait! You were with Benji?” she gasps again and Annalise nods shortly. “You said you didn’t tell him you had a kid, oh my god!”

“It was so fucking awkward, I wanted to die,” Annalise chuckles awkwardly. “He came up to me all nice and flirty and I was in full panic mode and he was telling me how I didn’t give him my number and then Benji ran up to me calling me mummy.”

“Jesus, I wish I was there to witness it,” Chloe snorts and Annalise gives her a look, though she sees why she finds it funny, she is just not there yet to laugh about it. “What did he do?”

“I sent off Benji to get something and tried to explain it, he was shocked, to say the least. But he was more upset about the fact that I didn’t tell him, rather than that I was a mother. He thought I was married and that’s why I ran off.”

“Can’t blame him, would have definitely crossed my mind too,” Chloé comments with raised eyebrows. “So what else happened?”

“He was desperate to get my number, like literally desperate. When I paid, I could see the panic in his eyes that I’ll flee before he could pay his stuff and come after me. Felt bad for him, so I waited for him.”

“Oh my! You were giving him a chance already!” she cheers and Annalise shakes her head.

“I was not! I wasn’t planning to do anything!”

“Oh but you were. You can deny it all you want, but I can see right through you,” Chloé snorts and Annalise just rolls her eyes at her. “Okay, so what happened then?”

“He convinced me to give him my number. But I told him I’m not looking to date, he said he just wants to be friends. For now.”

“The dude wants to fuck the shit out of you.”

“Chlo!” you snap at her, glancing in the way of the living room, making sure Benji didn’t hear her.

“What? It’s the truth!” she laughs, clearly enjoying the sight of you all blushed and nervous.

“Well, that’s not gonna happen. I’m not getting myself into anything.”

“You mean a nice, satisfying relationship with a clearly amazing guy who is on his knees already for you? Yeah, sounds horrible,” she scoffs, earning another hard look from Annalise.

“No one is talking about relationships. Maybe he does just want to fuck,” she answers with a shrug.

“What’s so wrong about that?”

“Chloé,” she sighs shaking her head.

“I know, I know. You are pretending to be a nun just because you have a kid. I get it.”

Annalise rolls her eyes at her, taking a glance at the oven to make sure the dinner hasn’t burned down yet. It’s clear that the two of them are not on the same page when it comes to Harry. Chloé understands her closed-up behavior when it comes to dating, but she thinks Annalise is taking it a little too far, while Annalise thinks it’s perfectly fine to shut every male out of her life.

Just as they settle in a short silence, Annalise’s phone lights up with a buzz, signaling that she got a text. They both turn in its direction immediately, Annalise’s stomach dropping before her eyes snap at her friend.

“Is that him?” she asks, urging her friend to check the sender. Annalise walks over and grabbing the phone from the counter her lips part seeing the name on the screen.

Harry: Hope you haven’t spiraled and regretted giving me your number just yet.

“What’s he saying?” Chloé asks in excitement.

“Just… asking if I’ve regretted giving him my number.”

“Tell him you want to suck his di—“

“Don’t you dare finish that,” she warns her, typing her response to the text.

Lis: I’m sorry, who is this?

Harry: … very funny!

Lis: Sorry, I had to. And no, I haven’t regretted it, though I’m close to spiraling.

Harry: Oh no, then I have to do something about that quickly!

“You cheeky slut,” Chloé murmurs right from behind her, making her jump, because she didn’t realize she was standing there.

“Fuck, don’t scare me like that!” she scolds her before returning to the text thread. “And I’m not a cheeky slut.”

“Yeah, you are. Totally flirting with him.”

“We have very different definitions of flirting then.”

Harry: When do you have lunch break tomorrow?

Lis: Usually around 12.30

Harry: text me the address, I’ll be there

“Shit, he wants to have lunch with me tomorrow,” she sucks on her breath looking up at Chloé, who read the whole thing shamelessly over her shoulder.

“So what?”

“Should I say yes?” Annalise looks at her in panic, feeling like a lost, nervous teenage girl.

“Oh my God! If you don’t say yes I’m gonna literally murder you, Lis!” she groans, her head falling back in annoyance.

“Alright, alright! No need to be so harsh!” She quickly turns her attention back to the screen and just sends the address without a comment. No reply comes, he just likes the message.

“I hope he fucks you in a restaurant toilet,” Chloé bluntly comments, making Annalise’s jaw drop.

“You are so vulgar, I shouldn’t even let you into this household with that dirty mouth of yours!”

“Oh come on, I know it took you years to stop cursing around Benji, I’m pretty sure one of his first words were fuck.”

“That is not true! I hate you, why are we even friends?” Annalise grimaces, grabbing her oven mittens to check on the lasagna.

“Because I’m fun, I’m honest and I babysit for you sometimes,” Chloé lists with a proud smile on her face as Annalise pulls the dish out of the oven, the warm smell of the fresh lasagna immediately filling the kitchen.

“Right, remind me of that more often, please.”

They set the table together and Lis calls for Benji, who abandons the couch without a word. Annalise has always been grateful for having such an unproblematic boy. Becoming a mother at such a young age, she had many doubts and fears about how things would turn out and the worst was that she would somehow ruin him, watch him turn into a deviant, low-life criminal. Though Benji is only six and a lot can happen in his life that lies ahead of him, Annalise has been feeling a sense of relief whenever she looked at him. The way he handles his everydays, doing what he is told to do right away without a second guess or throwing a fuss, it makes her think that maybe, probably… hopefully she did a good job raising him. As a single parent, having been one for years now, this is all she wishes above all the happiness in the world for her son.

The three of them sit at the small dining table, eating dinner while Benji rambles about how excited he is about the field trip that’s coming up soon, his teacher is taking the whole class to the zoo and Benji is over the moon to see his favorite animals up close.

“Which one do you want to see the most?” Chloé questions, pointing her fork at the boy.

“Giraffes and the monkeys!” Benji cheers, bringing a smile to his mother’s face, seeing him so enthusiastic about it. She knows that Benji doesn’t just want to see the animals, but can’t wait to learn about them. He is a curious little guy, Annalise knows that already.

Chloé helps to clean up the kitchen and they hang around the living room a little longer before it’s nearing Benji’s bedtime. Annalise walks her friend out, hugging her goodbye at the front door, but before Chloé could leave, she turns back around and gives a hard look to Lis.

“I’m serious about this whole Harry situation. Please don’t close up entirely, alright? You deserve to have some fun, get to know him better. You could never know what’ll turn it out to be.”

“That’s what scares me,” she mumbles quietly, eyes fixated on her feet. “Not knowing how it’ll end.”

“Take the chance. Live a little. You haven’t since… graduation?”

Annalise keeps quiet, biting the inside of her cheeks. She hasn’t let herself completely relax since she found out she was pregnant. Being barely out of high school, having to deal with the fact that she would be a somewhat teenmom was shocking enough for her to regulate her whole life to the point where she couldn’t even remember the last time she actually enjoyed herself without a worry. That night in the pub, Harry managed to make her feel that sense of freedom. Like she could finally let go of everything that keeps her tied down into this strictness in her everydays. For one night, she had no worries, no fears, she just allowed herself to be… herself. Her old self for once.

“You deserve it, Lis. Don’t convince yourself that you don’t.”

She just nods without a word and lets Chloé embrace her in another hug before she walks down the stairs of the small townhouse and makes her way home with one last wave in her direction at the door.

Annalise’s proudest achievement is that even with a child and being a single mom, she managed to get a college degree and score a job she actually likes. No, she adores what she does. As a caretaker at a retirement home. She works from nine in the morning until four in the afternoon. Her boss let her have those one hours bunch up and get pushed back to Saturdays so she could drop Benji off at school easier on weekdays. Having to work on Saturdays weren’t a big deal, because Benji usually came with her, have the best time with the elders in the home while Annalise worked, they even helped him with homework. They would have lunch somewhere after work and have the rest of the day to themselves.

Going to work the next day Annalise can’t push her excitement down, thinking about seeing Harry later that day. Arriving to the home she is immediately met with Eloise and Bart, one of her favorite pairs in the home. The old woman’s eyes light up the moment Annalise walks through the door and she greets her brightly.

“My Darling! Good morning!” she beams as Annalise approaches them. “How are you?”

“I’m splendid, how about you, Elly?”

“Fantastic. Bart promised me to take a walk in the park today, right Bart?”

The quiet man nods with a shy smile. They are quite the pair, Annalise always thought. Elly being a chatty, lively, social butterfly, while Bart was more the kind to stand behind and let his lady shine and Annalise always found that endearing.

“How is Benji?” Bart questions shortly.

“He’s good, getting better with reading day by day,” she smiles.

“I can sense something on you, Darling,” Elly comments, narrowing her makeup-covered eyes at Annalise. “There’s a little sparkle in your eyes, want to share what that’s about?”

Annalise chuckles shaking her head. Nothing and no one can fool Elly, she reads people like she does with the morning paper, easily seeing through them without a fuss.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she smiles, though they both know it’s a lie, but Elly lets it slip.

Annalise says goodbye to them and heads to the dressing room to get ready for the day. Though all her thoughts were about Harry in the morning, once she gets down to work she easily shifts her focus back on her tasks. The hours slip by faster than she expected, always having to do something, and before she notices, there’s only ten more minutes till the time she told Harry she’d be getting her lunch break.

She finishes up changing the sheets in one of the rooms, drops off the dirty ones at the washing room before heading back to the break room to collect herself a little before Harry arrives. She thinks it’s silly, but she feels like an excited little girl with a crush, finally seeing her favorite boy on the playground. She never bothered to lie to herself about how attracted she is to Harry, because it’s quite obvious. She’s just still not sure what she really expects from the situation on her hands.

She pulls her hair tie out of her ponytail, letting her hair fall to her shoulders in loose waves. Tapping under her eyes she gets rid of a mascara smudge, fixing up her makeup quickly before she takes one last look at herself in the mirror. She is definitely not trying to look like she wants to impress the man, but she doesn’t want to look like a mess either.

Her phone vibrates in the pocket of her light pink scrubs and fishing the device out her heart leaps upon seeing the sender of the text message.

Harry: I’m right outside.

Lis: Coming!

She pulls on her knitted sweater she wore in the morning and throws on her coat before grabbing her wallet and heading out.

“I’m eating out today, I’ll be back soon,” she calls out at the station downstairs where some of her colleagues are seated. They all smile back at her, carrying on with their work as she walks out the double doors of the home.

Her eyes immediately find the tall frame leaning against the little gate that separates the foregarden of the home from the street. Harry is dressed in a pair of black pants and a navy blue sweater under his black coat, a pair of sunglasses covering his intent green eyes.

“Hi,” he greets her, his smile bringing his dimples out as he watches her walk out the small gate and stand in front of him.

“Hey. Found the place easily?” she asks with a soft smile.

“Yeah, it was all good. Ready to leave?”

“Yes, but I need to be back in an hour.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Harry smiles and walks her over to the black Range Rover parked at the sidewalk, opening up the passenger side for her. She mumbles a quiet thank you sitting inside and once Harry is behind the wheel too, she turns to him feeling her nerves creeping up on her neck like it’s the first time they are seeing each other.

“Where are we heading?” she asks, but Harry just smiles in her way starting the car and leaving from the home.

“You’ll see.”

Harry effortlessly strikes up a conversation, asking Annalise about how long she’s been working at the home and why she chose it. She finds herself easily sharing all the information.

“I’ve been working at Golden Sunshine for about three years now. I absolutely love it, my boss is very flexible and understanding, which is kind of essential in my… situation.”

“And why did you choose to be a caretaker?”

“I don’t know, I was always told that I’m great with taking care of others and I think I’m patient, which is great when you work with elders, especially when they have different health problems, having a hard time remembering simple things. You can’t imagine how many times I need to introduce myself to residents that’s been living there for years,” she chuckles softly. “But it’s alright. I like helping them, making these last chapters of their life as peaceful and comfortable as possible.”

Harry glances in her way with a genuine smile and he needs to push down the sudden urge to envelope her in his arms. He is fascinated by how big of a heart Annalise has and that she’s not afraid to share it.

“I bet they all love you,” he smirks, glancing at her shortly.

“I guess,” she shyly shrugs. “Though I think they love Benji more.”

Her smile fades for a moment. She can’t help but feel nervous to bring Benji up in front of Harry. She still doesn’t know for sure how he really feels about him and she is not trying to be the kind of mother who can’t talk about anything else than her kid.

Harry senses the change in her and is quick to clear the water.

“Lis, don’t feel bad about talking about Benji.”

“I just don’t know if…”

“If I want to hear about him?” he helps her out and she nods shortly. “I do. I think I made it pretty clear that I’m interested in you and that involves everything. Benji as well. I know he is a big part of your life so I wanna hear all about him. You don’t have to hold yourself back around me, alright?”

“I guess I’m just not used to… a man being interested in him.”

“I assume you had some bad dating experiences.”

“You could say that,” she chuckles bitterly.

“How did they react when they found out about him?”

Annalise doesn’t even realise that they have parked down and Harry has stopped the car. They sit there and Harry listens to her intently, genuinely interested in anything she shares.

“Guys my age are not really ready to deal with a child. Most of them swore it wasn’t an issue, but at the end… it always was. So then I stopped talking about it, but I quickly realized that it’s not something I can just not tell.”

“Obviously,” Harry nods.

“So now I just don’t know what to do and what not to do.”

“Well, I know you’ve heard it plenty of times, but I really mean it that it’s not an issue to me in any way. From what I saw, he looks like a great little guy and though I was a little shocked last time when I met him, I’m not against seeing him again, if that’s how things turn out to be. I like kids, I really do, so don’t feel bad about talking about him. I want you to. I’m asking you to.”

Annalise is not sure how to react. She still has a lot on her heart and mind, but she genuinely believes Harry, something is just telling her that she can. Not sure what it is about him, but she is trying not to overthink it.

Moving her gaze away from him she looks out the window and sees that they are parked near a little park.

“Where are we?”

“One of my favorite places,” Harry smiles getting out of the car and Lis follows him to the trunk.

He opens it up and there’s an old fashioned basket, one she always sees in movies when they are having a picnic. Harry grabs the basket and shuts the trunk once he has everything he needs and then the two of them start walking further into the greenery.

“I come here sometimes, just because not many people know it exists so it’s quite peaceful most of the time. Easy to stay unnoticed, ya know?”

Lis nods as they follow the graveled path that leads through the small park, squished between townhouses. It really isn’t big, she can see the other end from where they are, but there’s a lot to do and see. A nice playground takes up most of the space, but there are several benches, a little fountain a little further down the way, chess tables and even a small group of abstract monuments that’s also used as a playground by some kids. Annalise finds the place endearing and it’s like a hint of magic in the middle of the city.

They aim for a bench, Harry sets down the picnic basket between them and opens up the lid, revealing that it’s filled with goodies.

“I wasn’t sure what you like or don’t like, so I packed a whole bunch of stuff,” he truthfully admits, making Annalise smile as she watches him roam through the basket, pulling some stuff out.

He really did think of everything. There are loads of fruits, sandwiches, all kinds with and without meat, cut vegetables, sauces, snacks, both sweet and salty. Even the worst picky eater would find something to eat in the load Harry packed for their lunch.

“You could have asked what I liked so you didn’t have to do all this,” she shyly tells him, but he just smiles at him with his head tilted.

“Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Well, I’m surprised, so you succeeded,” she admits with a soft chuckle as Harry’s fist pumps into the air in victory, making her laugh.

Annalise chooses to eat a ham and cheese sandwich while Harry chooses one with salami in it and they have the little container filled with veggies sitting on the basket so they both can reach it.

Suddenly, she can feel the guilt crawling up her back and neck, reaching all her thoughts about how bad it was that she didn’t tell him about Benji. Even with her intentions of never seeing him again, she should have told him or at least mentioned it when she saw his interest in her. It’s been a struggle of hers for so long, wanting to protect herself and Benji, but also knowing that it’s not information you should keep to yourself for too long.

“I uhh-- I want to apologize,” she speaks up, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

“For what exactly?”

“For, um… That I didn’t tell you about Benji. I know I should have, but I--”

“You didn’t plan on seeing me ever again. I get it.” Glancing over at him, she sees that there’s no sign of anger or disappointment in his eyes, just a calm smile stretched across his face. “I’m fine to move on from this part. I understand your reasoning and I’m not mad at all. Would have been nice to know, but it’s all fine.”

“Are you really okay with it or are you just saying it because you know it’s what I want to hear?”

“I really mean it,” he tells her, looking at her with eyes that are completely open and she can read them like a book. She feels the relief coming over her.

“Okay. I just still want you to know that I’m sorry. It’s not like I’m ashamed of him or being a mother.”

“Doesn’t look like that.” Harry chews on his sandwich before speaking up again. “Can I ask… what’s the situation--I mean--”

“About the father?” she guesses and Harry nods. “Um… We started dating in tenth grade, he was my first… everything. First kiss, first boyfriend, first… love.”

Harry ignores the bitter taste in his mouth as she talks about loving this mystery man, but he chooses to stay silent as he waits for her to continue.

“I was planning my future with him, though looking back after the first year I was just desperately trying to hold onto the idea of being in a relationship, having a partner, it wasn’t healthy for sure.” She lets her hands fall to her lap, holding the remaining of her sandwich as she carries on. “So then, not long after graduation came the shocking news that I was pregnant. We barely turned eighteen, it was a proper shock for the both of us, I was terrified. We kept it to ourselves for a few days, trying to figure out what to do, but then I told my parents.”

She falls quiet for a moment and Harry doesn’t say a word, just lets her take her time, continue whenever she feels like.

It’s been long since she told anyone about how she ended up being where she is, given the fact that her small circle consists of Chloé and her parents. She’s known Chloé since elementary school, she was there through the whole process, didn’t have to tell her the story. Outside that, she doesn’t go around and talks about getting pregnant at eighteen so she definitely needs to pull her thoughts together now.

“They were mad. Like, so fucking mad, I thought they are going to disown me,” she huffs with a bitter chuckle.

“Did they?” Harry finds himself asking.

“No. I could feel their disappointment for a while, but they said that they want to help me and be present. It never occurred to them to ever throw me out. I just had to deal with seeing it in their eyes for months.”

She scratches her neck, taking a deep breath and trying to find her words to get back to the story. To her story.

“So I figured out that I want to keep the baby and I told Austin about it.”

“Austin?”

“Oh, yeah. His name is Austin.”

Harry notices how she used present time, so he knows that the reason why he is not present is not because something happened and he died. Austin is very much alive, just chooses to be a douche and not care for his son.

“He tried to convince me to get an abortion, but I didn’t want to, so he had to accept my decision. Though he didn’t shy away from voicing his disapproval. Anyway, we tried to stay together, but it was just a whole lot. I didn’t know if I would ever be able to uni, I wanted to support myself financially and not live on my parents’ money, I just couldn’t deal with his behavior which was absolute trash.”

“Did he ever…?” Harry trails, hoping he doesn’t have to finish the sentence and she will know what he means. Luckily, she does.

“No. Austin never hit me, I think he is too chicken to do that, but he surely liked to give me all the pain through his words. Treated me like shit and I think he was trying to bully me into breaking up with him, so it wouldn’t be him who left his pregnant girlfriend.”

“Fucking asshole,” Harry mumbles, not able to hold himself back. He can feel the rage crawling up his neck, numbing his fingers, aching to bring justice.

“Yeah,” she nods. “Well, he succeeded and I threw him out when I was in the eighth month. He tried to stay present for a while. He was there when Benji was born, though not in the room, but he was there. And he genuinely tried to get into the role of being a father, but I guess he just… couldn’t. He started coming over less and less until he barely even asked about Benji once a week, only seeing him a few times a month. And I still don’t know if I should have tried to reach out and help him connect with Benji and just the idea of being a dad, but… I didn’t. I just watched him break all contact with us and disappear into thin air. By the time Benji turned two, I couldn’t even tell if Austin still lived in our town or not. Haven’t heard from him in about three years,” she finishes and Harry is left at a loss of words. He can only imagine what it was like to go through all of this at such a young age.

“Though it seems like everything turned shit, I still think that I managed to bring the best out of it. A year later than my peers but I started uni, my school offered a chance for people like me to have a special timetable, manage my courses more losely than others, so I had only two days when I had to go in and I could bring Benji with me if I wanted. My teachers were super helpful so I got my degree and moved up to London when I got the job at Golden Sunshine.”

“Weren’t you afraid of moving out from your parents? I assume they helped you a lot in the beginning.”

“Oh, I was,” she chuckles softly, bringing a smile to his lips too. “I couldn’t have done it without them, and I’m very thankful for them. The moment they saw Benji I could feel them shift, I didn’t see the disappointment anymore, just the endless love and caring for him. They are in love with being a grandparent and maybe I could have stayed longer with them, but I wanted to find my own place, start my own life and not depend on them forever.”

“That’s very respectable,” Harry nods in awe. Not many would have thought that same way as she did in her situation.

“I’m not saying it was easy at the beginning, because I had very little support system here in London. Luckily, my best friend, Chloé was already living here and she was always happy to help me with anything. She still is. But if I’m being honest I thought about moving back home a few times. Though I’m glad I didn’t. I think I needed to face this and I’m happy I didn’t try to push it too much, I forced myself to make the change before I could get too comfortable at home. Now I feel home here as well and I think Benji does too. I like to think that I’m doing a good job raising him, but I can only hope,” she chuckles lightly before bringing her sandwich back up to his mouth and she starts eating again.

Silence comes over them, but it’s much needed and appreciated. It lets Annalise have a breather after everything she just shared, think about her words, while Harry is trying his best to process all the information he just learned.

He thought he got to know her pretty well that evening when they met, having to talk to her for hours on end, but this just put her in a whole different lighting and though he wasn’t mad at her for not telling him about Benji before, he couldn’t have been now after hearing everything. Annalise went through more in just a few years than most people experience over a decade probably. And on top of everything, she nailed it all like not many could have. Harry envies her bravery and strength, her ability to start over after being thrown to the ground several times. He could have never done the same.

Harry feels the need to voice his appreciation.

“I know that you will probably doubt the validity of my words, but I just want to say that I think you are an amazing person. Everything you did, for yourself and Benji, it’s a miracle and it’s all thanks to you. If I can say that… I’m proud of you.”

Annalise is at a loss of words. She can’t remember the last time someone told her they were proud of her and she definitely did not expect to hear it from Harry, but here they were, sitting on a bench in a park, eating lunch together, seeing each other for only the third time ever. Though she was stubborn not to let her walls down too fast and easily, she can now feel them trembling. A lot.

“Thank you,” she breathes out, feeling too shy to look him in the eyes, so she keeps her gaze fixated on her hands.

Following the quite serious topic they just discussed, Harry manages to ease the mood a little, starting a conversation about things that are much lighter. He is pleased to see that they are able to pick up where they left on New Year’s Eve, talking and joking about basically anything without taboos. This is what has drawn him so forcefully to her right in the beginning. She is unapologetically herself regardless of who she is talking to or what she is talking about and it encourages him to be the same. He can so easily leave his ties back he usually feels on him most of the time in life. But not with Annalise. She can easily make Harry forget about the existence of any other human being on the planet and he is desperately trying to keep this feeling close to his heart.

However that short hour is nearing its end quite soon and they are forced to head back to her workplace so she can make it back in time. Harry saw today solemnly as a chance to be her friend and strengthen her trust in him, but when they are sitting in his car heading back to the retirement home he finds himself having a hard time thinking about her in a friendly way. He wishes he could just easily switch it in his brain, but Annalise messed it all up so easily and gracefully that he can’t even be mad. However, he feels too weak to stand the tempting urge and not give in.

As they are nearing Golden Sunshine Harry is chewing on the inside of his cheeks, gripping the wheel a little tighter than usually, trying to figure out what to do once they arrive. While right next to him, Annalise is having a somewhat similar fight with herself, because she genuinely enjoyed her time with Harry and though her strict side is telling her to keep her distance, her heart is screaming at her to let him get closer.

The car comes to a halt and they both just sit there for a few moments, lost in their own head, waiting for something to happen. Right when Annalise is about to say something and end this little meet-up on a neutral note, Harry speaks up breaking the silence.

“Annalise, I want to be very honest with you,” he starts seriously and she is a little taken aback by the tone, but nods.

“Okay.” Harry stares out the windshield, hands still on the wheel, as if he is trying to ground himself, have a grip of something solid in his fists to mask the nerves taking over him.

“I know that I said that I’m fine with being friends and I still think that, don’t get me wrong. Above anything and everything, I would love to be your friend. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t want more, because I do. I definitely do and I’m not gonna lie to myself or you. So this is kind of my warning that… I will shoot my shots as often as possible and I’ll see this—“ he gestures between him and her nervously, “as something that I want to work on and head in a…” It’s hard for him to find the right words, as if Annalise just made his mind blank when words are usually his best friends. But not now, because all he can think about is the woman sitting next to him.

Sighing he lets his hands drop to his lap, turning to face her finally, finding her bright eyes already staring back at him intently.

“I want this to head in a romantic way, Lis. I really do, because I just can’t stop this attraction I feel and if I’m being honest, I don’t even want to stop it. I remember and understand everything you said about wanting to protect Benji and how dating has been for you, but I want you to know that it doesn’t stop me from trying over and over again.”

Staring into her eyes he is desperate to read something out of them, but for once, she looks completely blank, just blinking at him, seemingly deep in her thoughts. He almost entirely regrets opening his mouth in the first place, but then she notices the tiniest smile playing on her lips.

“Okay,” she quietly says, clearly surprising Harry with her short, but unexpected reaction to his words.

“Okay?” he repeats the word, eyebrows raised at the woman beside him. Annalise nods.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Harry repeats it again in his mind, trying to find a different meaning behind it, but there’s none. It’s an okay which is neither bad nor the best kind of reaction, but way better than what he was expecting.

“Okay,” he nods, saying the word again, noticing how ridiculous this conversation just sounded, but he couldn’t care less. That okay means more than anything to him.

“Thank you for lunch,” Annalise smiles before opening the door.

“It was a pleasure,” Harry returns the smile and waves in her way, watching her shut the door and he stays right there as she walks up to the entrance. She glances back one last time, her smile widening for a split second before she disappears inside the building.

“Harry?”

Mitch’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts for probably the fifth time today as he has been far from the studio, clearly putting his mind somewhere else than into the songs they are recording.

“What? Sorry. Zoned out a little,” he mumbles rubbing his eyes, hoping to return to the present.

It’s been just two days since he has last seen Annalise and though they’ve been staying in touch through texts ever since, he is keen on seeing her as soon as possible.

“Care to share what’s got your thoughts occupied?” Sarah chimes in from the corner of the room. Her comment is not harsh or rude, more like curious and kind of delighted. Studio sessions between Harry and the band have always been seen as more of a creative environment where they get to do anything that helps the workflow, rather than a compulsion or pressure to create. They all know it’s not how good music is born, so it has never been taken badly when someone was not at the top of their game.

“If I had a guess I would say it starts with L and ends with Is,” Adam smirks from his chair, mindlessly pushing himself to left and right, his eyes watching Harry.

“I’m just trying to figure out what to do next.”

“Have something on your mind?” Sarah questions, leaning forward to rest is elbows on her knees.

“I do, but I just don’t know where the boundaries lie with Benji. If she would let me… meet him, I guess,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, leaving his locks fall messily back, before they slowly return to frame his forehead.

“Why don’t you just ask her?” Mitch easily questions.

“I just feel like… I’m walking on eggshells. What if she takes it the wrong way?”

“What do you mean?” Adam asks.

“She said her encounters with men didn’t end well when it came to Benji. I’m afraid she would think I’m just trying to get closer to her through Benji, which is totally not the case. I want to get to know him because I know how important he is to her, so I obviously want to be close to him as well.”

“Harry,” Sarah smiles at him warmly. “Just tell her exactly this. From what you told us, she sounds like a smart woman. Worst case, she’ll say no to you meeting the kid. Just don’t take it to your heart too much.”

Harry nods knowing she is right. Fishing his phone out of his pocket he sends a quick text to Annalise.

Harry: Let me know when you have the time to talk so I can call you.

He doesn’t think she would get back to him too soon, but just when he is about to return his attention to the task on his hands, the screen lights up.

Lis: I’m free now.

“Sorry guys, I need to make a quick call. Be right back,” he excuses himself leaving the room, walking out to the empty hallway as his thumb glides across the screen, opening up Annalise’s contact. He draws a deep breath, keeps it in and then exhales sharply before he finally taps on the right button and starts the call. She picks up just after two rings.

“Hey!” Her joyful voice rings through the phone, instantly making Harry smile.

“Hi, I hope I’m not bothering you,” he breathes out.

“I literally told you it’s fine to call,” she chuckles. “How are you?” she asks and he just knows it’s not one of those empty questions. She is genuinely interested in the answer.

“I’m good, just working at the studio, but I wanted to ask you something.”

“Alright, shoot it.”

“I hope I’m not crossing any lines and please tell me if I do, but I would really love to have you and Benji over at my place for lunch or dinner sometime and I thought we could play board games. I have a bunch for times when my friends are over and I’m sure we could find something Benji would like.”

All his blood rushes to his head as his anxiety is reaching its maximum level. He has never felt this nervous about just a simple question, an invitation, but everything about Lis makes him go into a spiral, afraid he might lose what he has with her for now.

The silence on the other end of the call is wrecking him and he even goes to check if the call is still on, because he can’t hear a thing. Right when he is about to ask if she’s still there, she finally breaks the silence.

“When?” she asks shortly and that one little word means the world to Harry. For a split second he thinks he’s going to faint as all the blood rushes out of his face at the answer.

“Whenever it’s good for you. I can push around my plans in the next two weeks so I’m open to anything,” he answers eagerly.

“I’d rather not do it on a weekday, I don’t want Benji to go to bed late. I’m working on Saturdays and the afternoon is always our time, so that leaves us with Sunday,” she explains so precisely, Harry feels like he is listening to someone talk about the solution of a mathematical problem.

“Alright,” he nods following her trail of thoughts.

“He has a football game next weekend so this week would be the best for us.”

This week. This Sunday is only two days away, meaning that it would happen sooner than he expected, but there’s no way he would turn her down. Sunday it is.

“Works for me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Lunch or dinner?”

“Maybe lunch? I take bedtime really seriously,” she explains and he makes a mental note, storing it along with everything else he knows so far about her and Benji.

“Perfect. Lunch is great.”

“Are you sure it’s not too soon for you? You can tell me—“

“Lis, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it, alright? I’ll text you the address and exact time after I pushed back my meeting.”

“If you have work to do, then we could—“

“None of that,” he cuts her off again, not letting her push it around until it won’t happen. That will not be the case if it’s up to him. “I said it’s all good and I meant it. Don’t worry about it.”

After a short pause, she finally gives in. “Okay,” she sighs. “Thank you for the invitation. And for thinking about Benji too.”

“Of course. I hope you’re not taking it in a negative way though. I really want to get to know him as well.”

“You haven’t given me a reason to think of you differently,” she states confidently before adding: “Don’t make me regret it.”

NEXT PART

TAGLIST

let me know if you’d like to be added or taken off!

@stylesfics-xx @dontworrysunflower @mariamuses @bookwormandtea @swtxel

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry styles x oc #harry styles serendipity #harry styles serendipity series #serendipity #serendipity series #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fanfics #harry styles oneshot

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babybluebex · 3 years

Text

of pubs and profs pt.2 [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: professor!tom x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 2.7k ➽ summary: for some reason, you just can’t say no to tom holland, even if you know that it’ll end in sadness. ➽ warnings: explicit language, mentions of sm!t ➽ a/n: you all voted for opap pt.2, so here it is!! enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio!

Your heart was in your throat for the entirety of class, and it only got worse when Tom dismissed the class. You had been terrified for when class ended and you had to talk to Tom. You gathered your stuff in your bag and lingered awkwardly. Once when the room was empty, Tom got up from his place at his desk and shut the door, and then he turned to you. “I think we should… Address the obvious here,” he started. “I want you to know that I like you. I really do, but--”

“But we can’t be together,” you supplied quickly. “I know. I should’ve asked what your job was.”

“Well, there was no reason for you to,” Tom said. His eyes were focused on you, and the contact was too much; you looked down at your lap. As cliche as it was, seeing his pretty eyes only reminded you of your night and the way they glittered as he looked down at you. “I… I feel partially responsible. I knew that you were the right age to be a student, I just didn’t think about it, I was so distracted and blinded by…”

“By…?” You said. “By what?”

Tom shrugged. “You,” he said. “You are so beautiful, and… I was distracted by my own desires and wasn’t thinking rationally. Please don’t blame yourself; I’m as responsible as you are.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, and you mumbled, “Guess we gotta break up, huh?”

“Would be for the best,” Tom agreed. “That being said, you… You left something at my apartment.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What?” you asked.

Tom laughed, his cheeks growing red. “You seem to have left your panties,” he said. “I put them through the wash, they’re all clean for you. Unless you’d rather me keep them...?”

You had noticed that you left your panties at his apartment, but that was the plan. In the best circumstances, you would have called him that night and asked about them, and you would have had an excuse to go back and retrieve them. However, given everything, you would need them back. “No, no,” you said. “You can keep them. Throw them away. Whatever.”

“Are you sure?” Tom asked. “They seem expensive.”

“Just keep them,” you said softly. “‘Cause how would I get them? Go to your apartment? You’d bring them to class? There’s no way to do that innocently.”

Tom sighed. “You’re right, I guess,” he said. “Well, at least one of us has our head on straight.”

You tilted your head in confusion, and Tom added, “It’s so, so wrong, but, darling… I was so happy with you. That sounds stupid, but I slept easy with you in my arms. I had gotten into a habit of not sleeping at all, but you made me feel happy and safe and comfortable enough to… Anyway. I have feelings for you, my darling, and I can’t just overlook them.”

“Tom, we can’t,” you whispered. “You could lose your job, I could get expelled. I like you a lot too, but we just can’t.”

Tom nodded, and he wrung his hands together. He was perched on the corner of his desk like at the beginning of class, and he said, “You’re right. You’re right, darling. You’re so smart… Well, I have my phone number in the syllabus in the event that email goes down, so there’s an excuse for having my number in your phone. I… I will see you on Friday, then, Ms. Y/L/N.”

You nodded. “See ya, Dr. Holland.”

“Alright, tell me about Tom.”

A pang of sadness hit your chest, and you looked up from your computer at Zendaya. “What?”

“Your new boyfriend,” Zendaya said, playfully jabbing your ribs. “I wanna hear about him.”

“Oh,” you started. You were dying to tell her all about the scandal that you had found myself in, but you were scared to admit it. “Well, his name is Tom. He’s from London.”

“How old is he?” Zen asked.

“Umm…” you started. “In his mid-twenties.”

Zendaya nodded. “His job?” she asked next. “Does he have one?”

“Yeah, yeah, he does,” you mumbled under your breath. “You… You can’t tell anyone this.”

“Ooh, is it juicy?” She asked, readjusting herself on the couch for the incoming gossip.

“Yeah,” you said. “He’s a… Umm, a professor.”

“At our university?” Zen asked, and you nodded. “What does he teach?”

You swallowed thickly. “English lit.”

“Oh, does he know this Dr. Holland guy?” She asked. “I have his class tomorrow morning; you had him this morning, right?”

You sucked in air through your teeth as shame filled your chest. “I did, yep,” you said. “And he does know Dr. Holland… Because he is Dr. Holland.”

Zendaya sat for a moment, blinking at you. “You…” she started. “You fucked our professor?”

“I didn’t know he was our professor when I fucked him,” you scoffed. “C’mon, Zen, give me more credit than that! But we talked after class and we broke up. It’s better, ya know?”

“Oh my God,” Zendaya laughed. “Oh, that’s really funny, Y/N. You fucked our professor, that’s--”

“Alright, stop,” you said. Your phone buzzed against your thigh, but you paid it no mind. “I’m in mourning right now, just…”

“Oh,” Zen mumbled. “Shit. You really liked this guy, huh?”

“I did,” you nodded. “Like… Love at first sight. That’s stupid, but… I really, really liked him, and not just because he was good in bed. He was sweet and funny and so handsome, and we really got along. I... “ Your phone buzzed again, and you looked down to see a flurry of text messages from Big Dick Tom. “Oh, Jesus, he’s texting me.”

10:32PM - Big Dick Tom: I’m so sorry. 10:32PM - Big Dick Tom: I’m such an asshole please 10:34PM - Big Dick Tom: Please take me back.

10:36PM - Y/N: you shouldn’t be texting me right now. i already told you, i can’t be with you.

“He seems drunk,” Zendaya said, and you tilted your phone away from her.

“Invasive,” you chuckled, but your heart still sank. She was right; he did seem like he was drinking.

10:37PM - Big Dick Tom: I’m so sorry darling. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.

10:38PM - Y/N: you didn’t. just leave it alone.

Before you could properly close the conversation, your phone began to ring with a call. “Christ,” you mumbled. “He’s calling me now.”

“Put it on speaker,” Zendaya said, and you batted her away.

“What did I say about you being invasive?” you said, but did as she asked anyway. “Tom, what’re you--”

“I’m the biggest asshole in the world,” Tom said quickly. “Please, darling, please forgive me.”

“It’s already done, Tom,” you told him. “You’re forgiven. You really can’t keep texting me and calling me like this.”

“I know!” Tom sighed. “It’s fuckin’… God. I miss you.”

“I’m gonna hang up,” you said quickly.

“No, please don’t,” Tom whimpered out. “I just miss you. You’re so pretty and smell so nice, and I loved sleeping next to you. Can we meet somewhere? I wanna see you. I miss you.”

“It’s half ten,” you sighed. “Nowhere’s open. And we can’t do that anyway, we can’t be seen together--”

“Oh, fuck off!” Tom groaned. His accent was thick, his voice low, and you swallowed thickly. The sound of it was attractive, and you couldn’t stop the thought of him whispering in your ear with that voice, a hand in your hair and the other…

Your train of thought was completely derailed when you heard a shattering from Tom’s end of the call. “Tom!” you exclaimed. “What was that? Are you okay?”

“Threw a bottle,” Tom mumbled.

“Christ,” you whispered. “You’re drinking, aren’t you?”

“You know something? I am,” Tom said. “Why do you care, though? It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

“I care about you, you dick,” you told him. “You’re acting like this isn’t hard for me too. I told you that we had something special, Tommy, and, if things were different… Ya know? I like you, you piece of shit, just… Christ, I’m coming over.”

“Why?” Tom asked.

“Because I don’t think you can be alone right now,” you said. “You’re drunk and throwing things.”

“What happened to ‘we can’t be seen together’?” Tom asked.

“Do you want to see me or not?” you asked.

There was silence for a few long moments, and you almost thought that you had misread the situation. Then, Tom said, “I do. How soon will you be here?”

“Give me like half an hour,” you said. “Please don’t do anything stupid until I get there.”

You remembered the way to Tom’s apartment, and you got there quickly. You had to knock on his day and wait for him to answer, and your heart sank deep when he revealed himself. Sweatpants and a t-shirt, his hair undone and frizzy with unkempt curls, his cheeks red with drink. He was holding his hand away from his body oddly, and you saw thin streaks of blood on his fingers and palm. “Hi,” Tom said simply.

“What happened?” you asked, taking his hand in yours. You saw a little glimmer of green glass in one of the cuts, and you tugged him to the bathroom, kicking the door shut. “Did you really smash a bottle?”

You sat Tom on the edge of the bathtub and began to look through the medicine cabinet for anything that could help bandage up his hand. “Felt like it,” Tom sniffed.

“Jesus,” you whispered. “Tommy, listen, we both know how terrible this is, but getting angry like this isn’t gonna help anything. Fuck, do you have any antiseptic?”

“Under the sink,” Tom told you. “I wish things were different.”

“Me too,” you admitted. You retrieved the bottle and a few cotton balls, along with a set of tweezers and a roll of gauze, and you sat down in front of him. Carefully, you pulled his injured hand towards you, and you began to extract the glass bits with care. Tom winced every so often and you apologized, and, finally, once that bit was done, you began to clean up the cuts.

“I…” you began. “I should drop your class.”

“Why?” Tom asked. “Am I… Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, no, no,” you said quickly. “Not at all. I just can’t focus. I’ll never pass.”

“Why can’t you focus?” Tom asked. “Is someone giving you a hard time?”

You had to remind yourself that Tom had been drinking. “You are, doofus,” you scoffed. “I can’t focus on the lecture when you’re the one giving it. If I stay, I’m gonna need tutoring out the ass.”

Tom pulled his hand away from you with a gasp, and you almost thought that you had hurt him, but the smile on his thin lips said differently. “That’s how we do it,” he said. “Tutoring. I tutor you! We get to meet at least once a week outside of class, in my office, alone… Would you want that, my darling?”

Your knee-jerk reaction was to say yes. After all, you did want to be with Tom, but anxiety kept you from instantly agreeing. “What if we get caught?” you asked. “It’s your job on the line, and my scholarship, I might even get expelled. It’s so… We just can’t.”

“But isn’t that a bit exciting?” Tom asked. “The rush of it!”

“You’re insane,” you huffed, grabbing at Tom’s hand, but he stopped you.

“Am I?” he asked. “Or am I actually smart?”

You chewed your lip as you considered it. The fact that you were even considering it at all was enough to make your breath falter in your chest, but you had to admit that Tom was making a good argument. Anyway, you only had his class for one term. 16 weeks. That wasn’t that long, in the grand scheme of things. You could do it, if you were careful. “Let me sleep on it,” you said softly. “I wanna do it, but… I don’t know. There’s so much at stake.” Tom nodded in understanding, and you whispered, “And you might think differently when you’re sober.”

“I won’t,” Tom said. “I’ll still think you’re the best girl there is.”

“You hardly know me,” you said softly, looking up at him. You wound the gauze around his hand, trying to cover the cuts, but his other hand cupping your cheek stopped you.

“That might be true,” Tom said. “But you’re special. I know it.”

“You are too, Tommy.”

The smell of coffee filled your head, and you squeaked as you stretched. It smelled different than usual, lighter than Zendaya’s usual dark roast, and your heart nearly stopped. It wasn’t coffee. It was tea.

You shot up in bed, gathering the blankets in your fists. Tom’s bedroom. Tom’s bed. Tom was making tea. You studied yourself, trying to assess the damages, and you found bruises littering your hips and thighs. If you could see your neck, you would bet that he had left hickeys there too.

You cursed yourself every which way to Sunday as you got out of bed. You knew what was bound to happen if you saw Tom again, and there you were, right back where the problem had started. Your arms felt weak as you shoved your shirt from the night before back on, and you whirled around. Bra. You had left your bra.

“Woah,” a low chuckle came from the doorway. Tom stood there, grey sweatpants and damp hair, absently stirring a spoon in a mug. “Late to class?”

“No,” you said quickly. “I need to--”

“Need to go,” Tom sighed. You saw a perfect mouth-shaped bruise just under his nipple, and the sight of it stopped you. You remembered every beat from the night before, every kiss, touch, breath, and moan, and the memory of his hands was enough to stop you dead. “Right.”

“No, actually,” you said, taking a breath. Your intentions had flipped as soon as you remembered, and you scrambled for an excuse. “Need to go to the bathroom. I don’t remember if I went after we finished last night.”

“Ah,” Tom hummed slowly. “What’s it called? UTI?”

“Yes, and they can be painful,” you said quickly.

Tom smiled, a sleepy, fuzzy thing, and he pulled you into him with one arm. His lips were warm against your forehead, and he whispered, “Good morning, sweetness. Glad you slept well.”

“Well, you nearly exhausted me last night,” you chuckled. Your arms circled his waist and you pressed your nose into his hard chest. “Would’ve been impossible for me not to.”

Tom landed a kiss in your hair, and he said, “I didn’t wake you up, did I? Seems to be my superpower.”

“No,” you said. “The tea did. I’m used to coffee.”

“Oh, my darling, you need to get familiar with tea,” Tom said. “I’m from Southwest London, we do tea.” With that, he offered you his mug, and you peered in for a moment, assessing the light tan drink, before you carefully took it and took a sip. It was warm and tasted good, lighter than coffee, and you nodded carefully.

“I think I like coffee better,” you whispered, and Tom gasped.

“You just insulted the whole of England,” he said. “How dare you.”

“To be fair, England deserves to be insulted,” you said quickly. “Most independence days that are celebrated are celebrating independence from your whack-ass country.”

“That’s…!” Tom began, then sighed. “Yeah, no, that’s fair. Well, do you want me to pop out and get you a coffee?”

You giggled. “No, I’m alright,” you said. “I’ll make it work with your pathetic leaf water.”

“Better than bean water,” Tom said, sipping his tea.

You laughed at him. “Did you really just shade me and sip tea at the same time?”

“What does any of that mean?” Tom asked. “Is that a meme?”

“Jesus, you’re not that much older than me!” you laughed. “I’ll have to teach you memes.”

“And I’ll have to teach you not to sass me,” Tom said. “You can get awful lippy, my darling.”

“I sure can,” you said and bit your lip as you played with the band of his sweatpants. “Want me to show you?”

“You little minx,” Tom smirked. “I’d never say no to you.”

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader angst #angst #fanfiction #prof!tom

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remusmainhoe · 3 years

Text

sirius x reader

warning:smut, language.

not sure what it is, I wanna say friends, to lovers, but really I just got carried away. I hope you love it, I had fun writing it.

I was laying on the grass, near the black lake. The sun shined on the water, the warm breeze lifting the pages of my book, my mother had gotten me about medicine since she worked at st. Mungos, but I always preferred the greek mythology books my dad had left me. I saw him from a distance, sitting down on the grass, sheltered by the shade of a tree, his back relaxed against the bark. Two other girls near him were giggling at each other, stealing glances of him every now and then, their cheeks flushed with anticipation for his attention. Even from a distance, I could make out his face, unbothered by the girls, his dark, smooth hair dancing in front of his face every now and then. His eyes remained closed, his mouth carved into that faint grin he wore so much. James was next to him, his mouth moving, grasping the snitch before it got too close to freedom, and letting it go once more. Seeing how James ran a hand through his jet black hair, careful enough to leave it perfectly messy. Remus crouched down on the floor, eyes hungrily reading every word of the paper in front of him. A strand of his sandy brown hair on his face gone ignored, his hands grasping his quill, focused. Peter was watching James, as his hands clasp around the snitch for the 100th time.

I couldn’t help catching a glimpse of the boy, feeling like the other girls whose eyes also felt what I could only describe as a magnetic pull toward him. To me, he felt like a flame, you could appreciate it, and regard it as precious, but you know better than to get too close. I try to peel my eyes off him, staring back at the book in my lap. When my eyes tired of the words on the page that no longer meant anything, I looked up again only to find those piercing eyes staring back. The corner of his mouth lifting, flashing his teeth, his calculating eyes refusing to let me go. I tear away from him, refusing to give in. I stand up, picking up my things, and make my way back to the Gryffindor tower, rushing up the stairs to my dormitory. I laid in bed, refusing to acknowledge the way he made me feel. The butterflies that swarmed through my body, the warm feeling in my chest, because no one can have this much control over me. Falling asleep that night, his eyes being the last thought before I fall asleep, and my first thought when I wake up.

Waking up slowly, getting out of bed, taking the morning air deeply, letting it feel my lungs, and hoping it could erase that feeling he made me feel. The great hall filled with the first light of the day, my lids heavy as I sit down at the Gryffindor table. The table slowly filling up with students fueling up for the days' classes. I ate my breakfast in silence, lightly listening to the words the other girls were gossiping to me. When I felt those piercing eyes on me again, not wanting to believe my own senses, I ignored them. Lessons that day went by blandly and slowly, I plopped down on my chair in the astronomy tower at midnight. Opening my book to get ready for the lesson, I felt someone sit down next to me, I glanced quickly to see who it was.

“I hope this seat wasn’t being saved for someone else,” he says, clearly noticing the confusion on my face.

“Um, no, it's ok” I sputter out, he flashed another smile in response, in turn making those damn butterflies return, I fight the slight heat in my cheeks.

Before anything else can happen, the professor calls things into order, starting the lesson for the day. Any of the tiredness that I felt, fluttered away. the professor assigned us to fill a star chart of the different constellations with a partner.

“Well, what do you say, partner?” He said turning his body to my attention, certainty in his voice.

I had known him enough to know the charade he performed with other girls, making them stutter slightly, making their cheeks hurt with the smile he would cause. I was certainly not one to judge, for who could blame them? The way that he moved in a way that felt effortlessly yet still carried some precision, the way his words came out of his mouth like honey. The most frustrating thing that made it difficult to forgive him for the effect he had, was that he knew he was goddamn gorgeous, and he liked to see the effect he could have.

“I say, I'm tired, and I wanna get this over with,” I said, surprising myself.

His eyes flickered with something, his shitfaced grin refusing to leave. He turned to his telescope and started to get to work. His hand fidgeting with his quill, his other hand gracing the telescope. I turned my head back to my telescope, observing Perseus, Studying the made-up lines I imagined connecting the stars, picturing Perseus ‘the hero’ with his sword and shield. I started plotting the dots on the chart, his hand hovering on the paper before getting to work on another part of the sky. I then saw Canis Major, which wasn’t that hard to find due to the brightest star ‘Sirius’. Remembering the books I read on the stories and mythology of the stars. Picturing Laelaps the dog that always caught whatever it hunted. sent to hunt the Teumessian fox, a fox that could never be caught. Realizing that they were doomed to be the hunter and the hunted for eternity, Zeus turned them both to stone then placed them in the sky as the constellations Canis Major (Laelaps) and Canis Minor (the Teumessian fox). The irony, of course, is that they continue the chase in an eternal hunt, with Canis Minor rising in the winter skies about an hour before Canis Major, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Did you find a man on the moon or something?” Sirius’s voice pulling me back to the astronomy tower.

“Hmm?”

“You’re smiling at the stars” he pointed out, his eyes full of intrigue.

“Oh, it's nothing, I just like the constellations and the myths and stories they carry,” I explain focusing once more and filling out the star chart we were almost finished with.

“Like what?” He asked leaning closer as if it were a deep secret only he was to hear.

“Well… I like the pegasus,” I said drawing it on the star chart “The winged horse, in Greek mythology, used by Zeus to carry thunder and lightning,” I said not being able to hide an amused smile.

“ the stories become a bit tangled though, there are different stories about each of them…” I continued “like the birth of Orion, one story tells how his father was a poor shepherd called Hyrieus. Once, Zeus, Hermes, and Poseidon stopped by Hyrieus’ house. Hyrieus was so generous with his guests that he killed the only animal he had - an ox. Hyrieus was not aware that his guests were gods. The gods wanted to reward Hyrieus’ generosity by granting him a wish. Hyrieus’ biggest desire was to have a child. The gods told him to bury the hide of the bull he had sacrificed to them and to pee on it. After nine months, a boy was born in that place. The child became a very handsome and strong man. He became a very good hunter and threatened to kill all of the wild animals of the world, however, Gaia the mother of all animals was not pleased with his intention. Gaia set a giant scorpion on Orion, who soon realized that’s strength and sword were useless against the mighty Scorpio. Orion tried to escape, but was stung and placed in the stars along with the Scorpio set to chase him forever as a reminder from Gaia to protect the environment.” I stopped talking, realizing that who I had been ranting to. Instead of looking up to see a look of boredom, and annoyance that I was expecting to see, I was met with those eyes, laser-focused on me, his body slightly leaned in my direction.

“I told you, it's nothing, just random shit I think about” I dismiss it trying to not get sucked into his gaze.

“Is that we read so often outside near the lake?” He asked, not looking away from me.

“Among other things” I respond, before can think about it, I say “why do you care?”

He looked at me for a moment, “I don't” he said, and leaned back in his chair for a few minutes staring at the sky. Our star sheet laid out completed, and minutes to spare.

“But let's say I do,” he said leaning back toward me swiftly, his scent gracing my nose, my lungs filling lightly with cologne, leather, and cigarettes.

“Ok, humor me.” I say “what could Mr. popularity possibly have to care about? Apart from his hair”, I say, this time keeping eye contact.

“What do you have against my hair?” He said in the mocked offense.

“Nothing” I answer with slight sarcasm, slightly holding my hands up in defense.

I don't know what made me feel the need to not let him get to me. Hogwarts, although a big castle, I would always see how the girls would spoil him with love, and attention. I’ve read enough books, I don't want to be the “I'm not like other girls” bullshit, but I'm not gonna let him play his little game of cat and mouse.

He paused for a moment before speaking again, “well I just think that any book that can keep you from stealing glances at me, must be one hell of a book”

“Well, you think mighty big of yourself” I choke out a laugh, “you know, for a second there you had me,” I say without missing a beat.

“Is that so?” He countered.

Before I can say more, the lesson ends, I grab my things not trusting myself to say more. Getting to my dorm room, my head infected with him. His grin plastered on his face, with those eyes that see right through anyone. I'm not angry with what he said, it's what he made me feel that terrified me.

The next day, I sat at the Gryffindor table having breakfast, when I felt someone sit next to me. I turned and saw him sitting there, a bit further from his groupie.

“What are you doing over here,” I asked out of pure reflex.

“It is a free country” he responded as he served his breakfast.

“Yeah… sorry” he hadn’t done anything wrong, and it wasn’t my business, even if it was weird to see his hip separated from James. We ate in silence and headed to our first class, transfiguration, the moment I took my seat, he plopped down next to me.

“Ok, what’s your game here?” I ask him, frustrated that I even have to fight back a grin playing at the corner of my mouth. If he noticed, he didn’t say so.

“Nothing,” he said innocently. The class began, and we were assigned to transform bunnies into slippers. I managed to make some hoping slippers, with a tail at the back, Sirius chuckled at them.

“Don't judge them” I said, not even realizing I was smiling.

“I'm sorry,” he says, poorly hiding his amusement.

“Why don't you try it then” I challenge looking at his bunny.

“Ok, fine” he shrugged, with a swish of his wand, his bunny turned into a pair of slippers you would probably only find at a high-end store. “I could give you a lesson if you want” he teased.

“You know, one day you’re going to need slippers that jump,” I said catching my slippers, and transforming them back into the fluffy bunny.

The classes after that, he sat next to me, at first I thought he would come back to his senses and go back to his group, but after 2 weeks of laughing at his jokes in class, how he would pull a little prank, how he would know how to get me to start ranting about something, I didn’t think twice about it. He then started to sit with me in the library, and distract me from doing work. Later on, he and I would go out near the black lake where I once sat alone, I read to him the stories I held so deep to my heart. He would grasp every word of it.

It was inevitable, but after a while, I started to hang out with the others too. Remus and I would revise together, James would pull me into small pranks, and I would help Peter understand some of the charms he couldn’t do.

I tried not to think about the things I would feel when I saw Sirius. How I wanted to mess up his hair just a little bit because it was too perfect. How his laughter gave me a feeling of happiness that spread to my mouth that made me smile and laugh like an idiot. How I would think about the way that his muscles moved when he practiced quidditch with James, how his face looked chiseled by the gods.

I was back in the Gryffindor common room, trying to finish as much work as I could before I realized that the common room was empty, looking up at the clock to see the hands read 3:30 in the morning. I was about to gather my things to head to my dorm and call it a night when I heard the door to the common room open. Turning around, I didn’t see anyone there, yet the door started to close on its own, the fat lady fast asleep. Before I can even process it, I hear a thump near the fireplace, and all of the sudden see Sirius on the floor, a cloak next to him. Before I can even question it, I see the scarlet red that trails on his white shirt, I felt my eyes open wide as I rush to him, my legs forming a mind of their own.

“Sirius?”

He looks up at me, “y/n.. I-“ he's cut off with a hiss of pain escaping his mouth as the blood trails down.

“Take off your shirt so I can see”

“Isn’t that a bold request” he forces a teasing smile.

“Your a wanker” I say trying not to laugh, my heart still racing. “You know what I mean”

He lifts the white shirt, if it weren’t for the gash on his torso, I could have been easily distracted by the way that his muscles moved. The way that the low light of the fireplace reflected off his skin, the way that his skin glowed from a slight sheen of sweat.

“Stay here, ill be right back,” I say getting up, he grabbed my hand before I could move.

“You can't get any help,” he said, his voice laced with panic.

“It's ok, I have some bandages in my dorm,” I said. I rushed up to my trunk and grabbed what I needed, my mother always made sure I was prepared and was eager to teach me everything she could about her work. I rushed back to the common room, kneeling next to him. My fingers slightly shaking from the initial shock. The scratch was deep, so I started to work on some charms that my mother had taught me. Sirius was laying down on his elbows. After healing the wound as much as I could, I grabbed a small towel, drowning it in water, and brushing it lightly on his dark red blood now rusting slightly on him.

“How do you know all that?” He asked, I hadn’t noticed him looking at me.

“My mum” I answered wrapping him up in bandages. “How does it feel?” I asked

“Loads better” he answered.

“You better get some rest, take the bandage off tomorrow in the morning, if it hasn’t healed completely tell me,” I said, “did you lose a lot of blood?” I asked starting to examine him to see if he was paler than usual”

“I'm ok y/n, thank you,” he said, “aren’t you gonna ask me why I was butchered, or why I'm out at 3 in the morning?” He asked.

“If you want to tell me, id be glad to hear it, but it's non of my business” I answered honestly, he looked at me relieved, “thank you, it's not really my secret to tell”. He was sitting up a lot straighter.

“I get it,” I said sincerely.

“Why are you up so late?” He asked.

“I was just working a bit, got carried away. I was on my way to my dorm when you stumbled in” I smiled.

“Yeah, sorry bout that”

“It's nothing, my mum would probably thank you for giving some medical practice” I joke.

“Glad to help. It's hypnotizing seeing you so focused.” He said

I laid in my bed that night, feeling guilt for knowing that I got so close to the flame I promised myself I wouldn’t touch, yet also feeling a sense of relief that he was ok.

The next morning I sat in the morning, not being able to help myself, wanting to know how he was. He came downstairs, the look of surprise evident in his eyes at seeing me waiting for him.

“Y/n,” he said.

“Hey, sorry, I just wanted to know if you were ok”

“Yeah, It's healed” he answered making sure only I could hear him.

“That’s good… well I just… I just wanted to make sure”

“Thank you again,” he said, taking a step closer.

His eyes were piercing right through me, his hand hovering slightly over mine. I leaned up and kissed him, my hand over his jaw, my lips on his, my tongue tasting him like a drug I never knew I was sober from. His lips welcoming me, I snapped back into reality and pulled away, his eyes still close leaning in my direction.

“I'm sorry… I … sorry” was all I could spit out, I made my way back to my dorm feeling like a fool for thinking that a guy like Sirius would like me, that he regarded me any more different than the other girls that touched those same lips. I had been stupid, I had burned my house I worked so hard to protect, on that flame yet what scared me was that I would do it again. His hand grabbed my wrist. before I knew it, those lips met mine again, but this time they were prepared. He pulled apart just enough to speak.

“I want you y/n”

“You already have me”

I couldn’t even think about how stupid I was being, how cheesy this all was, because when his hands lingered on my waist as his lips enraptured me all thoughts and common sense went out the window. Up in his dormitory he closed the door, we both knew everyone would be in lessons. My hands tangled in his hair finally getting a chance to mess it up. His hands sliding my shirt off as he unclipped my bra, and I took his shirt off, and he pulled down my skirt, I slipped out of my shoes. For a moment he looked at me, revealed for him, exposed.

“My merlin you’re even more gorgeous than I thought,” he said breathlessly. I could feel myself blush, he started to massage my breasts, and I let out a moan. I unbuckled his belt and felt him hard for me. All this time I thought he was in control, yet he felt the same things I felt. I slipped a hand removing his trousers enough to relieve him a bit, he let out a low growl and I throbbed. He moved my panties, starting to draw circles on my clit making me unravel. I laid on his bed, pinned down beneath him, he stretched me out, and I let out a gasp of pleasure. His mouth began to play with my nipples, placing hickeys everywhere because I was his. I bit down a moan.

“Don't hold it back love, I wanna hear you scream” he said in my ear. His movements making the pleasure in my abdomen build-up, but I knew he would tell me when I could cum for him.

“Sirius” his name coming out of my lips like water.

“Cum for me darling”

#sirius black #sirius #sirius x reader #marauders #marauders fanfiction #harry potter marauders #smut roleplay #sirius x reader smut #harry potter #hogwarts

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

autumn leaves | l.i.b. finale

→ summary: and in the end, we fall because we have no other choice. some get up easier than others, and we bury the ones who never do.

→ pairing: ??? x reader → genre: angst, humor, fluff, lib!au → warnings: tae gets hurt a little but its an accident (he’s fine dw), small blood mention (from aforementioned accident), rage moments (rip lol), heartbreak (yum!), a happy ending (?) → words: 7.7K → a/n: oh my god we’re at the end?? after two months of SUFFERING?? how can this be happening?? lol but seriously thank you to everyone for going on this journey with me. writing lib was honestly so much fun, and it’s been a while since i’ve been able to kinda go “all-out” or whatever. i’m kind of nervous with this ending, but hopefully it’s something everyone will be able to enjoy. peace!!

prev // part 38 of 38 masterlist here. [series completed]

October 1, 2020 — 6:18 PM

Min Yoongi’s phone feels like it's burning a hole into his back pocket. It’s a heavy presence, weighing like concrete enough to bend his spine. His hands itch to reach for it, to check for messages he knows he won’t receive. But in the back of his mind, he thinks—desperately and senselessly, that if he wishes hard enough, then maybe it’ll come true.

I should be glad that she isn’t calling me, he tries to convince himself. The itch continues to grow, licking at the back of his mind like a fire begging to be extinguished. I should trust her decision. I should be proud of her. But there’s always been a difference, after all, to what Yoongi should do and what he wants. It’s a difference that he has fought to ignore for years now.

“Hyung,” a soft voice calls out to him, a hand placed gently on his shoulder. Yoongi blinks slowly out of his trance, his eyes dry from staring out his car window for too long. He doesn’t turn in his seat, refusing to face his companion in the backseat. “Hyung,” the voice calls out again, this time shaking him vigorously enough that Yoongi has no other choice but to turn lest his shoulders get dislocated.

“What do you want, Jimin?” Yoongi growls, sneering at the boy. Jimin smiles sheepishly, but he doesn’t back down under his glare.

“Sorry. You were gripping the wheel so tightly that I was scared you were going to break it.” Jimin shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s an edge to his tone, betraying his worry. Yoongi releases the wheel at once, switching to picking at the rips in his jeans instead.

“Didn’t notice. Sorry for snapping at you, I was just…” Yoongi trails off, expression glazing over once more. What was he trying? What was he doing here?

Jimin’s pupils flit all over Yoongi’s face, searching for something. “We’re not going to bring her home anymore?” he asks, but there’s a note of finality there. He knows that they aren’t going home with them tonight, at least not right now. They’ve been parked a block away from Namjoon’s childhood home for a few hours now, sitting in Yoongi’s car and waiting to see if you needed them to help you escape. Jimin has been watching Yoongi all the while, keeping track of the small changes in his friend’s expression.

They are hard to pinpoint sometimes, but Jimin sees them all. He sees the way Yoongi’s brow furrows slightly, sees the way his teeth nibble on his lips in worry, sees the way his head jerks every time he hears a sound, thinking that it might be his phone about to ring. Yoongi is like a pot about to boil over, hardly keeping everything together.

To many people, Yoongi often appears to be as unmoving as a rock. He hardly allows his emotions to control him, and he has always been proud to call himself a level-headed person. And for the most part, Jimin agrees with that. Yoongi is and always will be someone who thrives in times of turmoil, someone who relies on his wit to get him through adversity. He seldom gets angry, rarely raises his voice, never acts cruelly. He’s the person that everyone in their friend group often comes to for advice and support, as he’s always the one who seems to have the right thing to say.

But all those things begin to crumble, however, when it comes to you.

Yoongi is still human, too. He bends, he breaks, he yields—and he does so, especially for you.

“No, we’re not bringing her home,” Yoongi replies. The admission is there, hidden in plain sight. His words are laced with defeat, but it is a defeat that has been accepted long ago. Long before his text conversation with you.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jimin asks, not unkindly. Even still, Yoongi winces. Jimin’s real question is there, hidden in plain sight as well. What are you waiting for?

Yoongi sighs, resting his forehead against the wheel. He hears Jimin shift in his seat, feels his presence get closer as he leans forward to place a comforting hand on his back. “Nothing,” he says. He breathes deeply through his nose and counts to three. Releases it. “We are waiting for nothing.”

Jimin hums and says nothing more. They sit there in silence for a bit longer, watching the sun’s final moments in the sky before the moon takes its place. The street lamps turn on, bathing the streets in its dusty yellow luminescence. Under the lights, Yoongi’s skin looks tired and worn, like a paper that has been crumpled and smoothed over multiple times.

“I wonder if they’ve finished speaking by now,” Yoongi says suddenly. He still hasn’t moved from his position, his face hidden from view. It almost looks like he hadn’t spoken at all, but Jimin had heard him. He looks at Yoongi in surprise but keeps his silence. Jimin can feel the beginnings of something about to break, and he is afraid that if he makes a sound, it might stop. Even stones break in the end.

“I doubt it. They have a lot of shit to talk about. Too much, in fact.” Yoongi sounds exhausted, his words slurring together like he’s falling asleep. But he’s never been more wide awake. “I’d have a lot to say if I were them. But I’m not them, nor will I ever be.”

Yoongi tilts his head high enough that he can rest his chin on the wheel instead. He stares blankly at the quiet street, listens intently to the sound of the wind beating gently against his car. Parked out there, in the middle of a small neighborhood in Ilsan, far away from the bustling streets of the city, he can almost trick himself into thinking that he’s the only person in the world—

“You love her.”

—but he isn’t alone.

Jimin says it without a shade of doubt. He says it like it's a simple truth of life, like there is no other possible way Yoongi could feel otherwise. The sky is blue. The earth is round. Min Yoongi is in love with you.

“Yes,” Yoongi breathes it out, the confession tumbling through his lips with quiet ease. It does not struggle; it does not resist. It just is. “I’ve loved her before I even knew it myself, I think.”

“I never thought you’d be the type to fall in love at first sight,” Jimin says it lightly, teasingly. There’s a shrivel of truth to it though, but Yoongi will deny it to his dying day; it’ll hurt less if he does.

“I think it started a year ago. When I was preparing for my junior year exhibition.” Yoongi remembers the long nights working until his hands bled, the recurring nightmares eating at his mind, the fear climbing his spine like a tightrope pulled taut. It’s one of the only times when he had bitten more than he could chew, piling impossible expectations onto himself. In those long three weeks of constant anxiety nipping at his heels, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be human. That is, until…

“She saved me. She taught me to slow down, to be compassionate to myself. She didn’t judge me or scold me or hurt me. She just… cared.” Yoongi exhales, clenching his eyes shut. He can see it in his head: your soft hands carding through his hair, whispering assurances and praise into his ears, guiding him to his bed and staying with him until he’d fallen asleep soundly for the first time in days. “Slowly but surely, I started to fall for her. There was just no other way. My heart refused to have it any other way,” he says.

Jimin hums. “I’d always guessed, but I never thought it was that early. You do have an awful habit of staring, hyung. Sometimes I feel like you have to remind yourself to blink.”

Yoongi laughs, hollow sounding. “I suppose I do.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything about it then?”

Jimin’s question is expected. It should be an easy one to answer, but Yoongi doesn’t quite know what to say. It’s easy to say that he knew Jungkook and you already loved each other long before he realized his feelings, and Yoongi was the last person on earth who would do anything to hurt either of you to fulfill his desires. It’s true, but it’s not the whole truth.

So instead, Yoongi responds, “It’s because I’m a hypocrite.” When he doesn’t elaborate, he sees Jimin give him a confused look from the rearview mirror.

Yoongi chuckles sardonically, shaking his head. His mouth feels like acid, as if bile had risen up his throat. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, but it would hurt more later if he didn’t suck the poison out right here and now. “Nevermind about that. The point is, I lost my chance and I don’t regret it. Yeah, it fucking hurts like a bitch, but what am I going to do? Cry about it? We’ve all known since the beginning that if anyone is going to get a happy ending, it’s certainly not going to be me.”

“Don’t say that,” Jimin says, frowning slightly. He had spoken so sternly that it impelled Yoongi to straighten up in his seat and turn to stare at him. It’s quite unlike Jimin to be anything but friendly and kind, so seeing him so severe is disconcerting. Though, it did manage to shut Yoongi up immediately.

“This is not the end of the world. You are not going to end up unloved or forgotten. There are people who love you, people who will love you. Don’t you remember? Those were the same words you told me when I got my heart broken the first time,” Jimin says, his voice trembling ever so slightly. Yoongi’s gaze flies to Jimin’s fists, clenched tightly by his sides.

Of course, Yoongi remembers. It’s hard to forget the sight of Park Jimin sobbing relentlessly into his shoulder, fat tears falling like raindrops and down his flushed cheeks. He remembers saying the same words to you, too. He wonders, not for the first time, if his words are as ineffective to you as they are to him right now.

“I know,” Yoongi says. He switches the engine on and watches his dashboard light up. The radio turns on, the last notes of a ballad playing through the speakers. Yoongi puts his hand on the wheel, carefully not to grip too tightly this time. It’s a start, he thinks.

They go home, leaving without looking back.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 9:20 PM

Kim Taehyung locks his bedroom door the moment he gets home, after casting a furtive glance at the closed door across from his. He does not know what he expects; the door across from him has been closed for almost a week now. The entire apartment is still, but he is not alone. The ghost who lives in the other bedroom still haunts him, in more ways than one.

He drops his bag to the floor, still cradling a small bouquet of camellias that was slightly crushed when he had bumped into someone in the elevator. He unpeels the plastic wrapping, gently placing them into the vase near his windowsill. He fingers the vibrant pink petals, but they don’t brighten his room the way they once did. It still feels dark, but he has a sinking suspicion that he had nothing to do with his lights.

It’s me. I’ve changed.

He shakes his head, banishing the thought. No, it’s okay. Everything is fine. You’ve done nothing wrong. And yet, the door across the hall begs to differ.

Typically, this shouldn’t be a problem for him. When everything is said and done, Taehyung is used to this happening. The closed doors, the unopened texts, the cold shoulders. It’s all a process that Taehyung has lived through for years.

Guilt: an emotion that Taehyung has become accustomed to. Abandonment: an action that Taehyung has learned to anticipate. Isolation: a lifestyle that Taehyung has mastered. Every relationship with Kim Taehyung will always lead to these three things, so it shouldn’t be affecting him the way that it is.

But over the last three years, he’d grown comfortable. The people around him had convinced him unknowingly, planting seeds of hope and optimism in a garden he had thought to be infertile. For once in his life, Taehyung had found a home in these people, and he’d do anything in his power to keep it safe.

Or at least, he thought he did.

His original intentions had been guileless; he wanted to help Jungkook because he was his friend. Jungkook had been his first friend in university—if he wanted to be honest, then Taehyung would even say that Jungkook was his first friend in his entire life. The boy was kind-hearted and supportive, wrapped perfectly with a goofy personality. Of course, Taehyung wasn’t blind to Jungkook’s faults, but he was sure that Jungkook didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He had decided back then that he could trust this one, and once he had allowed Jungkook into his life, the rest followed suit.

It was easy to empathize with Jungkook because he was just so… awkward. It was like watching a newborn fawn learning to walk for the first time, except Jungkook had long since outgrown his baby status and should have been independent long ago. Taehyung and everyone knew this about him, but they still gave him the benefit of the doubt. They mentored him, guided him, manipulated him in the wrong ways in hopes of hastening him to change. That was until…

Everything fell apart. Taehyung understood long before the fall that he had played a considerable part in Jungkook’s ruin. His negligence, his willful involvement in worsening the situation had exacerbated everything. He had ignored the signs, had barrelled through with his plans without another thought, all because he allowed himself to be blind to what he truly wanted out of this mess.

If he genuinely wanted to be a friend to Jungkook, he would’ve stopped interfering way before you had gone to Ilsan that one fateful weekend in August. He’d been aware he was doing more harm than good to everyone around him, including himself.

No, he stopped wanting to help Jungkook a long time ago. It had turned into his own personal agenda.

“Fuck!” Taehyung screams into the night sky, slamming his hands against the wall. He grabs the nearby vase, smashing it against the floor and scattering water, petals, and glass across the floor. The impact causes a few shards to imbed themselves into his shin, but he does not mind them, for he does not feel them.

He breathes heavily, gritting his teeth in unspeakable rage. He’s angry, so furious. This red hot searing rage builds up in his body until he starts to feel dizzy, his vision blurred with tinges of black. Why is he mad? Who is he mad at?

Is he mad at Jungkook? Yes, but that isn’t new. He’s been angry at Jungkook for a while now. It frustrates him to no end how lucky Jungkook is without even knowing. How easily love comes to him, how pain and misfortune had never been in his vocabulary until just recently. Jungkook had you, Yoongi, and Jimin for longer than he has. Jungkook has been swaddled in affection since the start but has always been too stupid to see. If he had just stopped being so cowardly, he could have easily gotten the person he loves without anyone’s help.

If he just learned to ask, if he just learned to stop fucking locking his goddamn door—

Just like Taehyung.

They are two sides of the same coin, and it scares him.

This raw, unadulterated rage is not about Jungkook, but himself. It was always about him.

He lets out one last defiant shout at the frigid sky before dropping to his bed in defeat. The fury subsides as quickly as it comes, but it only leaves a desolate landscape inside of him.

He does not know for how long he lies there. When he stands, he leaves bloody footprints in his wake. “Appropriate,” he mutters to himself. He limps over to his door, hobbling to the adjacent bathroom to retrieve a first-aid kit. When he opens the door, Taehyung does not notice the small white box placed in front of his doorway. He nearly trips over it, saving himself by latching onto the wooden frame. He glances down, picking up the box gingerly when he sees a small sticky note tacked on top of it.

If you need help, just knock.

Taehyung looks across the hall. The door is still closed, but the person behind it is not.

His grip on the first-aid kit tightens. The first step is always the hardest.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 1:03 PM

When you had run the moment you spotted Jungkook, Jung Hoseok had chosen to stay behind. He had pushed Jungkook to go after you, had yelled at him when Jungkook had hesitated for that one split second.

“Go!” he shouted, jolting Jungkook to his senses. He sprinted off, but not before giving Hoseok one last look back. Hoseok put on his bravest smile at him, throwing a thumbs up. “Don’t give up yet!”

Even now, ten minutes later, his throat still feels scratchy from how loud he had been.

He sits by the curb where he had parked his parents’ car. Namjoon sits beside him, a few inches apart. The autumn wind sends chills down his back, the afternoon sun doing its best to keep him warm. Though, he reckons that half the cold is because of the weather.

Hoseok clears his throat at the same moment Namjoon does. They share a glance, the beginnings of a smile playing on their lips. They look back to the ground, avoiding each other once more. Hoseok taps indiscernible beats with his feet while Namjoon draws shapes in the air with his fingers.

Hoseok tries again. “Umm. Namjoon,” he mumbles tentatively. He doesn’t know where to start.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, you know. I’ve known you since before you even learned how to walk.” Namjoon beats him to it, like always. “I can guess what you want to say.”

Hoseok hazards a glance at him. His friend is tanner than he remembers, the summer months having done well on his skin. He almost giggles when he notices the line where the edge of his shirt sleeve meets his bicep, the stark contrast of color evident whenever Namjoon moves his arm. It has been a while since he has seen Namjoon with a tan line, as Hoseok was usually there to remind him to put sunscreen on before leaving the house.

Usually.

Hoseok sobers up, the momentary amusement evaporating just like that. How is it that in only one month, so many things have changed between them?

“What do you think I want to say?” Hoseok responds. He tries to keep his voice level and cool, but he knows that Namjoon notices the small ways in which he falters. Namjoon knows how he rubs his neck when he’s nervous, how his ears get red when he’s embarrassed. He memorizes the exact time it takes for Hoseok’s mouth to downturn, forming into his signature pout.

He knows all these things and more. And yet, how could Namjoon possibly know the traitorous things that he has done?

“I think… you got sidetracked,” Namjoon says slowly, carefully. When Hoseok glances at him again, he finds that Namjoon is looking back. He has a contemplative expression on his face, his jaw clenched in the same way that it does when he’s solving a tough problem. “I think you wanted to help me get together with her, didn’t you? At least, in the beginning.”

“I still do,” Hoseok admits, breaking his gaze once more. He stares up ahead, where the park is bustling with children and their families. He watches a small boy swinging on a swing set, while another boy pushes him higher and higher. “Do you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“When you texted me while you were freaking out over how you were falling in love with her?”

Namjoon huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. Of course. How could I forget? I’m still freaking out about it now.”

“I was just… worried about you, you know? I’m always worried about you,” Hoseok says. The boy on the swing set is still going, but one extra strong push from his friend causes him to tumble, landing face-first into the ground. The nearby adults begin to panic, but the boy rises unsteadily, dirt caked onto his scratched up face. But when he faces his friend, he’s smiling and laughing like he has just won the lottery.

“Not an unfounded concern,” Namjoon chuckles, causing Hoseok to put on a small smile. His laughter dies as quickly as it comes. “Was that the time you decided to help me?”

“I’ve wanted to help you since the beginning, but that was the first time I actually did something about it.” Hoseok’s heart is beating a mile a minute, his palms sweaty despite the chilly weather. “I only wanted to find out if Jungkook really liked her or not. I wanted to know if you had a chance before you fell any deeper because I didn't want you to get hurt.”

When Namjoon doesn’t say anything, Hoseok continues. “Even when he admitted that he did love her, I could sense that there was a huge chance things weren’t going to work between them as long as if some things were just… pushed in the right direction.” His voice grows smaller the more and more he speaks, the guilt feeling heavy against his windpipe. But Hoseok is determined to tell him, no matter what happens. It’s the least that Namjoon deserves.

“I suppose, in this case, it would be the wrong direction,” Namjoon hums, but he doesn’t appear angry or upset. Not yet, at least. From the corner of Hoseok’s eye, he sees him nod for him to go on.

“Yeah. I could tell he was insecure, and that insecurity was prone to growing into jealousy,” Hoseok runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots just to give his hands something to do other than to quiver. “I noticed that he shuts down whenever he’s cornered, so that’s what I did. I kept pushing him, forcing him to admit his wrongdoings but never berating him for them. So, in turn, he began relying on me for comfort instead of his friends.”

He keeps going, “I didn’t feel bad for it at first. I kept telling myself, ‘It’s all for Namjoon in the long run.’ But it didn’t take long for me to realize that I couldn’t keep helping you without hurting Jungkook in the process. I was manipulating this poor boy, and I didn’t even know it until it was too late.”

Hoseok waits for Namjoon to react. He can’t bear to look at him, far too ashamed even to consider turning. He’s sure he’ll find disgust in his kind friend’s eyes, and he isn’t sure if he’d be able to stop himself from running if he saw it. But Namjoon refuses to speak, probably not until Hoseok finishes his piece.

“Jungkook didn’t deserve what I did to him. All the things he did is nothing in comparison to the punishment I inflicted on him, especially when it was never my place to do so. I fed the monster inside of him when he was nothing but a boy who was just scared. Then, just when he still had a shot at redemption, when she was still willing to listen to him, it was also me who ruined everything. I told her about all the bad things he had done. I told her about—”

“The thing about Jungkook paying to spread that rumor,” Namjoon speaks so suddenly that Hoseok nearly chokes in surprise. He had been so quiet that he scarcely even seemed to breathe. “You told her about it, didn’t you?”

“I… Yes, I did. She told you about it?”

“Yeah. She never informed me who told her, but I suppose it makes sense. But there was something else you said, wasn’t there? Something even she wouldn’t tell me.”

Hoseok nods his head sadly. “Yes. I think she was probably more hurt to find out that Jungkook had been ignoring her in favor of hanging out with me. Indirectly, I fed into her jealousy, but instead of comforting her, I intensified her guilt.”

Beside him, Namjoon releases a shaky breath. “You brought me up.”

“Yes.” There’s no use denying it; after all, Hoseok has always been a terrible liar.

“Did you tell her..?” The question hangs heavily in the air, but Namjoon doesn’t have to finish it for Hoseok to understand.

“No, I didn’t tell her you love her. I just mentioned how she was hurting you by loving Jungkook. That’s all. I don’t think she even had the chance to understand what I meant.”

There’s a moment of silence. The two boys sit side by side, looking to all the world like friends just enjoying an autumn afternoon together. The sounds of children singing, of parents chatting, of lovers laughing try their best to fill the space, but the gap is already too big to mend. At least, not immediately.

“Okay.”

Hoseok startles once more, this time managing to gather enough courage to take a peek at Namjoon. He keeps his eyes low, staring at the mole on his chin. “Okay?” he repeats.

Namjoon shrugs half-heartedly. “It’s done. All we can do now is wait, I guess.”

“But… you’re not..?”

“Mad at you? No, I’m not. Am I hurt? Incredibly so.” Namjoon swallows thickly, his chin wobbling as he finds the strength to keep his tears at bay. “But I can tell you found your way back to the light, and I’m more relieved that you realized your mistake more than anything. I forgive you, but just know that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.”

“That’s already more than I deserve, Joon,” he says shakily. He feels a hand snake around his own, and he looks down to find their fingers laced together. On Namjoon’s wrist, the bracelet he had made for him in the 7th grade is frayed and mangled, but still ever-present. “But… what now? If they truly end up fixing everything, will you be okay with it? If Jungkook is still fighting for her… why aren’t you?”

“Same goes for you, I suppose,” Namjoon says simply. He doesn’t explain what he means by that, but Hoseok is honestly too afraid to ask. He’s always felt like Namjoon knew a little bit too much about things that he shouldn’t. He smiles, but there is a tinge of melancholy there.

Just out of reach, the way Namjoon has always seemed to be.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 5:12 PM

At first, Jeon Jungkook is surprised to find the park more empty than when he was here a few hours ago. He supposes it is only to be expected, as dinner time is fast approaching and all the families have returned to their homes, preparing for the festivities. In another life, he might have been one of those families, sitting around a table with his brother and parents and eating to his heart’s content. Perhaps he might’ve asked you to join him, just like you had in the past.

He finds you seated on one of the benches near the entrance, kicking away fallen leaves absentmindedly. He takes this moment to observe you from afar, his breath getting caught in his throat when he realizes how long it has been since he last saw you.

His heart aches, the constant heaviness that has made a home in his chest growing tenfold. There are no words to explain the plethora of emotions flying through his head, but all he knows is that at the root of it all, he simply just misses you.

You hear him approach him before you see him. When he looks at you, Jungkook doesn’t know how you’re feeling. He used to be so good at anticipating your mood, always the first one to sense when you were upset or annoyed. Now, you just looked… blank, and for some reason, that hurts to see more than if you had been angry.

Jungkook stops right in front of you, his black boots crunching on dead leaves. You motion for him to take a seat beside you, patting the bench lightly.

“Hi. It’s been a while,” you say softly. You aren’t looking at him, and your hair obstructs him from viewing your face.

“Hello,” he replies, feeling dumb. He can’t think of anything better to say, all the things he had prepared in his mind suddenly blown away with the wind. The sight of you alone makes his mouth go dry, his hands to grow cold and clammy. He realizes, not for the first time, how terribly out of his depth he is.

“This has certainly been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”

“It has been,” he agrees. “It’s almost laughable how long it’s taken us to get to this moment.”

You bark out a laugh, the hoarse sound ringing in the air. “Laughable is certainly one way to put it, I guess.”

“Then why did you ignore me for so long? Why did you suddenly shut me out when you told me you wanted to talk? What happened?” He speaks without meaning to, the words flying out of his mouth before he can think of stopping. If his sudden inquiry startles you, you don’t show it.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You shrug, pushing back some of your hair behind your ear. He can see the slope of your nose, the outline of your lips, the shape of your eyes. He memorizes all these things about you, sees you in his dreams and nightmares, but nothing can ever beat real life.

“I’m sorry.” It’s a start: two words heavy with meaning. What does he apologize for first? The rumors? The jealousy? The betrayal? It wouldn’t matter which one he chooses to tackle first because he already knows sorry isn’t going to cut it, but he has to try at least. This isn’t really about him anymore or about asking for forgiveness. You deserve to know everything he’s done—if you wanted to know, that is.

You blink rapidly, but your eyes are dry. “I know.”

“You don’t have to forgive me.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to trust me.”

“I don’t,” you say, and it hurts the both of you when you do. Jungkook feels his insides clench, feels his heart collapse in his chest. “I don’t trust you, Jungkook,” you repeat.

“I…” Jungkook has to take a few shuddering breaths, his vision going blurry as he tries to keep it together. He waits for the pain to ebb, but it flows like a river down his veins. “I hurt you a lot. It’s only right that you don’t trust me.”

“I have a lot of regrets,” you say, sniffling. You still aren’t crying, but your nose is red from the cold. He wonders how long you had sat here waiting for him to arrive. How long have you been waiting for him in general?

“I have a lot of those, too,” he says. “I regret being unfair to you. For keeping people away from getting close to you, like a property meant to be hidden away. I tried to steal you for myself, but that’s not a very good thought, is it? I shouldn’t have thought that you were a thing to be kept. You should have been someone I treasured.”

“Then why didn’t you treasure me?” The question echoes loudly in Jungkook’s ears, as it’s the very same question that has weighed in his mind the moment he started to wonder where he’d gone wrong. Why hadn’t he loved you the way that he should have?

“Because I abused your love for me, even when I wasn’t aware of it,” he says plainly. He has known the answer for a while now but refused to accept it until this moment. It feels like a cork inside of him has burst, releasing all the foul, wretched things inside of him and out into the open. And once they start tumbling out, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop.

“I think we both knew we loved each other for as long as we can remember. We skirted around each other because we were scared of change, of losing the friendship we had built over the years. We purposefully ignored each other’s feelings and brushed off our friends’ attempts to help us realize something we already knew.”

“We did,” you say. “That was both our faults.”

“But I was never good at bottling up my feelings. It was only a matter of time before the love I had for you began to grow claws and fangs, and somehow along the way,” he pauses, a breath of sorrowful laughter escaping him, “I had gotten lost.”

Your expression morphs then, shifting from pain, to grief, to acceptance. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Your eyes look glazed over, like your mind is somewhere else. When you come back down, you already have another question for him. “Why didn’t you ever ask me out?”

He should just say something else, but he can’t help but wonder—”Why didn’t you?”

“I tried—a couple of times. You never noticed they were dates,” you shrug. A leaf from one of the nearby trees gets caught in your hair, and Jungkook reflexively plucks it out. You both freeze when his fingers graze your nape, gazes locking with one another. He jerks his hand back, but doesn’t look away—doesn’t dare to.

(It might be his last chance.)

“I’m sorry for being dense. For resorting to buying rumors so that I could pretend to date you when I could have asked for the real thing. I’m sorry for setting you up with… Namjoon,” he hesitates on his name, and you notice. “It must have confused you greatly, only worsening the doubt you must’ve had for me.”

“It did.” The corners of your eyes look wetter than before, tears dangerously close to the surface. “When I asked you if I should go to Ilsan the first time... You told me to go, even though everyone told me you were jealous of Namjoon. I was starting to believe them, hoping that maybe it was a sign that everything before then had just been a misunderstanding. But that was all you, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you tell me to stay?”

“It was a mistake,” he mutters. He shakes his head at the memory: a frequent recurring nightmare of his as he is forced to remember the moment everything had started to go downhill. “I had realized I was being a jealous asshole far too late, and I was trying to clear my own conscience. I thought that… if I let you go, then you’d think better of me. That I might be absolved of my sins if I took your trip as my penance. I didn’t think you were trying to see if I would stop you,” he explains, but it sounds like an excuse even to his ears.

You sit together, watching the sun begin to set, bathing the world in its orange hues. Jungkook feels empty, wrung out like a towel left to dry. The wounds inside him ache and throb, but he knows they won’t last. As surely as the sun will rise, he will also relearn to feel whole again—even if it means you won’t be there to see it.

“I waited for so long, Koo.” You shake your head, allowing a few traitorous tears to fall. You let out a watery laugh. “ I waited for this moment for so long, but I never imagined it would be like this.”

Jungkook studies his hands. He desperately wants to hold you one more time, but the ship has already sailed. “We’ve already sailed past each other a long time ago.”

You nod your head sadly. “We have.”

“Is it bad that I wish that we hadn’t?” he whispers, but he doesn’t really expect a response from you. He rubs his face, covertly trying to wipe his tears away. “I guess there’s a reason why you called me number two, huh?”

You can’t even force out a laugh. You sob unabashedly, cupping your face in your hands. This is the end.

This is the end of a great long adventure between you and him—the time for your roads to diverge closes in, like a shadow looming over their heads.

Jungkook wraps you in an embrace for the last time. You shake like a leaf in his arms, clutching at his chest like you don’t want to let go. He drinks you in, tries to commit everything about you to his memory. “Thank you for loving me, even if it didn’t work out. Thank you for being my first love.”

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 7:07 PM

Kim Namjoon opens the door to his childhood home the moment he hears footsteps climbing up the stairs. He’d done so numerous times already, spooking one or two of his neighbors at his sudden appearance. This time, however, he finds the person he had been waiting for.

“Oh, Y/N. Thank god,” he sighs in relief when he sees you, rushing out the door just as you finish taking the last stairstep. You wobble in surprise when you notice him, nearly falling over with a scream before he catches you by the waist to keep you steady. He pulls you close, pressing your face gently into his chest.

“I’m so sorry for everything. I’m so sorry for bringing you to Ilsan even though Yoongi told us not to go. I’m sorry for not telling you that I knew Jungkook and Hoseok were coming here, too. I’m so sorry for—”

“Namjoon,” you try to interrupt him, but he keeps going.

“—wanting you and Jungkook to reconcile even if you didn’t want you to leave me. You just looked so sad all the time, and I knew you needed to speak to him at least one more time so that you could find closure, but I should have asked you first like a decent person—”

“Namjoon,” you repeat. Namjoon pauses long enough to see that our eyes are red-rimmed from crying, further increasing the panic rising in his body.

“Oh god, I didn’t want you to be sadder! I just… God! I just wanted to help you for once, because you always helped me with everything. I know you deserve to make your own decisions, to be your own person, but I ignored that in favor of following my stupid gut—”

“Joonie, the neighbors can hear you,” you hiss, furtively glancing at the doors opening around them. You can feel many eyes on you, watching curiously at the red-faced idiot babbling like a man possessed. You motion for him to stop, but he’s too caught up in the moment.

“For a while, I thought I could stop myself from falling in love with you, but it was so hard! You have to understand how impossible it is not to love you. Believe me, I tried!” Namjoon all but shouts the last part out, shaking you by the shoulders. “I don’t deserve you! I’m just not a good boyfriend! I’m insecure to a fault, I’m boring, I have mild sleep apnea, I forget to throw out the empty milk cartons—”

You yelp as he continues to shake you, gently having to pry his hands off of you to save yourself from being shaken like a bobblehead. “Joonie,” you say, firmer this time.

He rambles and rambles and rambles. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, hands gesticulating wildly like a human helicopter. He’s so wrapped up in his monologue that he doesn’t realize immediately when you take his hands in yours, forcing him to keep still.

“Joonie.”

“—and I’ve never been able to hold a relationship for longer than two months! My past girlfriend even left me after cheating on me the entire time—”

“Joonie.”

“I’ve never been good at being vulnerable and being myself, but you somehow managed to make me feel like I was worth something. You made me feel so so so incredibly loved. You made me feel important!”

“Kim Namjoon!” You shout, finally losing your temper and flicking him on the forehead. That finally manages to stop him, his eyes going cross-eyed like a cartoon character. You could almost see the flying stars orbiting his head. Properly silenced now, you push him back into his apartment, kicking the door with your foot before locking it for good measure.

When you turn back to face him, he’s still frozen where you left him. He stands in the middle of his living room like a robot, his mouth slightly agape as if his wires had been fried. Rolling your eyes goodnaturedly, you pull him to the couch, gently guiding him so that he doesn’t accidentally fall on his ass as he continues to short circuit in front of you. It takes him another whole minute to get his bearings together, but you’re a patient person. You sit in the adjacent armchair and wait for him to speak.

“Oh my god.” He swallows awkwardly, the color draining from his face. “What the hell did I do?”

“Welcome back to earth,” you smile, waving a hand in front of him. “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you.” It seems as though Namjoon’s weird candor spell is still in effect. He has the presence of mind to be embarrassed this time, however, and you watch amusedly as his cheeks begin to redden. “I, umm…”

“Gave quite a show out there. I didn’t know you could rap,” you tease, your mouth curling up into a smile. The muscles in your cheeks feel sore, almost as if it has been ages since you last used them. This morning feels like it had happened eons ago.

“Sorry. I just… had a lot to say,” he replies lamely. He hangs his head, embarrassed to look you in the eye. “So… I’m guessing you spoke to Jungkook?”

He hears you hum in agreement, but you don’t say anything on the matter. Namjoon has never been one to pry, but his overactive brain can’t help but make connections out of nothing, trying to make sense of the world in desperation.

“I’m guessing you’re here to reject me, right? I’m sorry for confessing to you all of a sudden when you’re already spoken for. It was unfair of me, and you don’t need to try and spare my feelings at all. I’ve been prepared for this since August,” he speaks rapidly, nearly losing his breath in his haste. “It was my fault for thinking we could have happened. I mistook your kindness for reciprocation when I should have known better—”

“Joonie, my love. You’re rambling again.” Your voice snaps him back to reality. He turns redder somehow, sinking deep into his seat.

“S-sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you huff, pouting in annoyance, but Namjoon catches the fondness in your eyes. “You aren’t unfair at all.”

“E-even so,” he stutters, heart hammering in his chest. “I shouldn’t have expected anything to happen between us. We were only going to fake date until the end of Chuseok, so it was foolish of me to try and… replace Jungkook, somehow. But I suppose, in the grand scheme of things… he’s a tough act to follow up to, huh? Seven years of loving someone is a long time. I don’t hold a candle to that,” he says dejectedly.

“But you do.” The words slip out before you can stop them. Your eyes widen, shocked by your own admission. Even so, you know what you said is true, and you wouldn’t take it back even if you could.

For a moment, you think he doesn’t hear it when he doesn’t react. It takes a second for his brain to buffer, but Namjoon had heard you, loud and clear.

“What do you mean?” His tone is soft, hesitant. Afraid, but hopeful.

You shrug your shoulders. You want to tell him everything, but you are impossibly tired, your eyelids like sandbags just waiting to fall. Namjoon must have noticed because he stumbles out of his seat with his arms outstretched, ready to keep you from slumping over.

“Woah, there. I’m sorry for interrogating when you must be exhausted. Do you want to take my bed instead of the couch tonight?” he asks, kneeling in front of you.

You blink sleepily at him, nodding with a large yawn. “I wanna talk to you but I’m tired,” you say, before promptly toppling onto him. He doesn’t flinch at your weight, catching you in an instant. He lets you nestle your face into his neck, and he grabs your arms until they’re laced around his shoulders. Slowly, he gets up with you in his arms, a feeling of weightlessness filling your senses. Safe.

When he tucks you into his bed, the sheets smell familiar and homey. Namjoon sits by the edge, brushing a few strands of hair away from your forehead. “Namjoon?” Your voice sounds muted to your own ears, as if you were underwater. But you don’t feel like you’re drowning, not at all.

“Yes?” He watches you with kind eyes, the same ones he has always had. To you, he looks like a prayer come to life, a promise ready to be fulfilled.

“You’ll be here? When I wake up?”

Namjoon exhales out a laugh, smiling sweetly. I love your dimples, you want to say, but your body feels heavy. Tomorrow. You’ll tell him for sure.

“Yes, Y/N. I’ll always be here. For as long as you want.”

You close your eyes. Tomorrow.

It’s a promise.

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nobodyfamousposts · 3 years

Text

A Different Purrspective (Original Work)

“Human. There you are.”

Oh. It again. Or is it a her now, given the body it’s in?

To be honest, I hadn’t really cared much at the time about its sex—or if it even had one. I was a little too busy panicking over this thing that just one day up and decided to come after me because...

Actually, I never did get a clear understanding of its motivations. I was a bit too busy trying to protect myself from the FREAKING DEMON!

In my defense, I hadn’t known demons existed until that moment.

In its defense...

Well, it had none.

“I’ve been looking for you for a while now.”

Sigh.

I forced myself away from my cozy nap time to look over at the one disrupting me.

It was...pretty, I suppose. Full cheeks. Long eyelashes. Hair was messy. Its clothing was disheveled. But otherwise it looked good. Something in me felt that a demon shouldn’t be so pretty.

I wasn’t bitter though.

Even if the body it was in used to be mine.

You know those horror movies with the main leads that have to deal with spirits and possession and body snatchers? Yeah. That was me then.

As to be expected in a horror movie, I lost the fight and the...whatever that thing was took my body. And trapped me in its former vessel.

So the orange tabby cat being spoken to on the front porch of a suburban street? Yeah. That’s me now.

The jerk couldn’t even get me in a female cat body.

Though given what I’ve since learned about cats, maybe that was for the best. Ugh.

“Do you have any idea what it took to find you?”

Huh. The weird thing was that it sounded offended. Not sure why it was supposed to be the wounded party here. I was the one whose body was stolen. By IT in the first place.

And then to add insult to injury, it took me to a shelter and left me there. Giving me an evil smirk and laughing all maniacally-like on the way out. Probably figuring I would be euthanized.

It hadn’t expected me to be adopted.

Ms. McGregor. A lovely old woman. She was pretty much the picture of the cat lady. And she took quite good care of me, all things considered. Fresh water. Good cat food. Some treats every so often.

Granted, it was a bit humiliating since I wasn’t supposed to be a cat, but after what had happened, I was willing to take what I could get and live out my days in relative peace and quiet.

...then this asshole had to show up.

“Human, we need to talk.”

Here we go.

“I...acknowledge that some mistakes have been made.”

Oh really?

“And we both have some regrets.”

The one thing I regret about being in a cat’s body right now is that I can’t roll my eyes.

I know it should be possible. I’ve seen the cat videos. But I just...haven’t worked out how to do it myself.

“I...may have been a bit...hasty. In my previous actions.”

You said you’d stalked me for weeks to learn about my life before attacking me and pulling a Freaky Friday. That requires a bit more forethought than you’re giving yourself credit for.

“I was just excited for the chance to experience life as a human.”

Uh huh.

“It was only going to be for a while.”

Ignoring that from what you had gloated at the time, ‘a while’ was going to be however many kitty years I had left. And considering how old this body was when I was forced into it...

“Just...long enough to get the ‘human experience’, you know?”

Guess the ‘experience’ isn’t working out for you, huh?

“But all good things have to end.”

Good for who?

“So I was thinking...” It trailed off, as if expecting me to finish the thought for it.

It waited, watching me long enough for this to get uncomfortable. Then it sighed.

“Perhaps we should switch back?” It asked, trying not to appear too eager.

It was failing. Horribly. But it was trying.

“You can go back to your life and family.” It continued, as if it was trying to sweeten the offer.

It was an offer though. And one I hadn’t expected to get this soon.

Or ever.

But what I expected even less was my own disinterest.

I mean...sure, the entire thing was terrifying when it was happening and I had no idea what was going on. And humiliating to no longer be human afterwards. But it’s been...what. Two months? Three? And so far, things have been pretty good for me.

Yeah, I’ll pass.

“Come on now!” It insisted “Don’t you want to be human again?”

...was it serious?

“You would get to go back to your fulfilling job.”

You mean the 60+ hour work week with no breaks, no paid vacation, and shitty benefits?

“See your family again. Spend time with your siblings and their kids.”

My self-important and egotistical siblings. With their horrible, horrible kids. And their untrained dog.

“And you can return to having a normal life in a healthy human body.”

My most recent labs read some issues. I had gingivitis and a cavity at my last dental exam. And my appointment for operations on those matters both happened to be after my body got snatched.

How did that go, by the way?

It tensed, fists clenching.

“I think I was a bit...unfair. And I would like to rectify that and switch us back.” It bit out. I think its eyes even flashed.

It was the period pain, wasn’t it?

“How do you LIVE with that?!” It shouted, furious and possibly somewhat embarrassed given the red tinge to its face.

Huh. I didn’t know I could turn that color.

“Look, this works out for both of us.” It insisted, gesturing at me. “You can go back to your life and I can go back to not dealing with your life!”

Wow, you make my life sound so grand when you put it that way...

“Really?” It asked, hopefully.

No.

It groaned, running a hand through its hair.

Wow. It doesn’t look washed. Have you not been taking care of my body? That was one of the few things you said I wouldn’t have to worry about after you left me to rot.

“It’s harder than it looked, okay?”

How do you not know how to take care of a human body?

“Hey, even you humans need years of training on how to properly manage yourselves!” It hissed.

Well, sucks to be you, I guess. As a cat, I can just lick myself clean and not have to worry about appearances.

Its nose turned up in disgust.

“How are you okay with this?!”

Well, it sucked when it happened. But you know, we humans are pretty adaptable. Horror movies end after the credits, but odds are that we would just sort of have to get used to it sooner or later.

Did you think I’d just be screaming in horror within my kitty mind forever?

It paused.

“Maybe?”

Wow. That totally makes me want to help you.

“What? No!” It insisted. “I’m trying to help YOU here!”

And how is this helping me?

It...actually seemed to fumble for a moment.

“Aren’t you sick of eating raw meat and cat food? Isn’t it disgusting?”

Eh, it was hard to get used to at first, I’ll admit. But the nice thing about being a cat is that taste isn’t one of the senses high up on the scale of priority. I’ve only got like...a few hundred taste buds now compared to the thousands I had before, so it doesn’t really bother me. I do miss tasting sweet things though. But at least it means I don’t have to worry so much about how bad things taste.

“Aren’t you tired of having to hunt for food? I’ve seen you going after rats and bugs. Clearly you must be starving.”

Nope, the lady here feeds me pretty well. I just take out the mice to help her out.

It wilted. “But...the bugs?”

It’s actually kind of fun to hunt bugs. And they have this nice little crunch to them—

“Okay, okay, okay!” It interrupted quickly.

Was it was because it was grossed out by the conversation or because it secretly liked those things as well?

“Don’t. Just...don’t remind me.”

Huh, how strange for a demon. Honestly, it had been a cat, at least for a little while. It should know these things.

For that matter, it should also know more about humans in general and my life in particular if it had been following me for months.

“Look, let’s just switch back.” It implored. “I’ll stay in kitty form. You can go home and do...whatever with your life.”

I could.

“You can.”

But this is actually the closest thing I’ve had to a vacation in...like...years.

“You can’t be serious.”

YEARS.

“Listen to me you little shit!” It hissed out, its features turning significantly more sinister and...wow. Stop. I don’t think my face is supposed to look like that! “You are going to switch back with me or so help me—”

You’re supposed to be the powerful demon here. You stole my body before. If you really hate it so much, why don’t you just switch us again?

A pause followed. An unsettling long pause.

“I...can’t.” It muttered, unhappily.

Wait.

What?

“I took it by force. Which we can do.” It shrugged. “But no one’s ever just...switched back before! Not without permission.”

Sooo...you need my permission?

“Yes.”

Huh.

Maybe you should have thought of that BEFORE you stole my body, you creep.

“Oh come on!” It shouted. “Please! I can’t take this anymore. Your job is impossible, your family is insufferable, and this body keeps doing...things I don’t like to think about.”

Yeah, it does that.

“What would it take to switch back?” It demanded. “I can’t take it anymore!”

I’m not feeling particularly sympathetic to your needs right now.

“Do you want me to apologize? I’ll apologize!”

Would it be sincere? Or would it just be a manipulation tactic?

It hesitated.

Right. Enough said.

“It could be both!” It insisted.

And we’re done. Excuse me, I think I’ll be going back to my nap now.

“You know,” It said with a dark tone. “I could just kill your family. Then you’d go to prison. How would you like that?”

Hah. Good luck. Before I met you, I was still convinced they were hellspawn themselves.

Not to say that meeting you has actually changed that belief, to be honest. If even you can’t stand them, what does that say?

“I could kill them all and make it look like an accident. So you wouldn’t get in trouble when you returned.” It suggested instead and...wow...was it trying to bribe me now?

Pass.

Knowing them, they’d be worse than any demon. And would take you out before you could do them in.

Nice try, though.

It glared fiercely at me but said nothing further. If I didn’t know better, I would say it was pouting.

Human expressions are one thing I miss. I’d be doing a long sigh right now.

Look.

You’ve lived my life for all of two months and already you can’t hack it. Imagine dealing with that...all of that. For year after year on end. Going to work at a high stress and low reward job. Dealing with people who look down on you regardless of how hard you work. Dealing with family members that either ignore you or act like they’re superior to you. Dealing with their rotten little children that they are incapable of disciplining even as they wreck your belongings for the sheer entertainment of it. Dealing with a body that’s slowly giving out on you regardless of what you do because you have to overwork it just to earn enough to keep it functioning.

And knowing that despite all the hardship, you still have another 30 plus years of that shit to go before you’ll get to enjoy...maybe 10 years of retirement before your body gives out?

Meanwhile, I have maybe another 10 years of kitty relaxation in this life.

Why would I want to give this up?

“Because you aren’t meant to be a cat!” It insisted.

I’m not. But somehow I am.

And whose fault is that?

It was...oh wow. I wasn’t imagining it! It was pouting.

Huh. Apparently it’s a demon that isn’t used to not getting its way.

And arguably, it was a good deal. Most horror movie leads would jump on a deal like this to “right the wrongs” done to them and return to their lives. Anyone would.

But would you look at the time? Gee, buddy. I’d love to help you out, but that sounds like an awful lot of work and there’s a nice patch of sunbeam that’s calling my name.

“Don’t you turn your back on me—”

And you may want to check yourself. People are starting to give you odd looks and you really don’t need folks to recognize you and question why you’re talking to yourself in public.

It glanced around nervously before lowering its voice. “You could try to help, you know!”

Well, I could. But y’know...cat.

It sputtered.

Clearly, it wasn't possible for cats to laugh. Otherwise I would be laughing myself to tears right now.

“I could disrupt this new little life of yours!” It hissed, turning to threats where pleas and bribes had failed. “The only reason you have it so good is because that old hag took pity on you.”

Let’s not forget that if you had your way, I’d have been euthanized by now and this would all be a moot point. So maybe you should be a little more grateful to that ”old hag”.

“So you do care about her.” It smirked. “But she’s old. Frail.”

It hummed, nonchalantly. Then it smirked, knowingly.

“She looks about ready to keel over at any day.”

And what good would it do you if she did? You need me to be willing, apparently, remember? I was already spiteful as hell when I was human. And everyone knows that cats are nothing but spite.

“We can see if you’d still have that attitude after a few months on the streets. After all, there’s always the chance she could have an...accident.”

Not a good idea. You have not seen that woman lug her purse around. I’m pretty sure that lady was a former heavyweight champion. She can carry four bags of cat food at once, she could probably bench press you while she’s at it.

And there’s no way I’d go back to a body after that.

It opened its mouth—my mouth?—into an expression of rage, and looked about ready to scream.

A loud noise cut it off before it could make a sound.

“There you are!”

Glancing over, it was the front door of the house. The screen door had been opened and on the other side stood a short old woman. Her hair was tied back into a bun. Her nose stuck out at a sharp angle, but it framed her wide if somewhat wrinkled face. She wore no glasses, but she was squinting so much that she looked like she could barely see.

That was her. My new “landlord”, so to speak.

“Jennifurr! Dinner’s ready!”

It took a moment for the thing in my former body to realize she was talking to me. Cat me.

...oh. Did I mention that the Cat Lady had an awesome sense of humor?

Welp, that’s it then. Too bad, so sad. Looks like we’ll have to table this for another day. Maybe next year?

It gave a grunt of annoyance, but backed away. If nothing else, it wasn’t going to cause a scene here. More out of self preservation than anything. But it continued to glare at me, clearly indicating that this was not over.

I ignored it, going straight for the door as McGregor opened it to let me inside.

“There you are, dear! Everything all right?”

Eh, fine.

She placed a bowl with some cut up meat on the kitchen floor for me.

Oo. Chicken!

“Not too many pests, I hope.”

Only the one.

She continued making conversation as she milled about the kitchen. She does that often. Sometimes it even feels like she hears me.

I wasn’t lying. Not entirely, at least.

I miss being human. Parts of it, at least. The internet was great. I miss having hands that can type. And opposable thumbs. I miss my full taste buds. Some other things I can’t be bothered to think of right now.

But getting away from life does kind of help to put things in perspective.

I’ll go back though...eventually. Maybe.

What was that one meme? It seemed most fitting here.

Nope. I don’t wanna adult today.

Today, I will cat.

#my writing #original story #body theft #poor choices #today i will cat

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fanmoose12 · 4 years

Text

“Hange!” Levi shouted, as he banged his fists against the piece of offending furniture. “Open that goddamn door!”

“Levi…” Hange sighed wearily. Levi didn’t like the tone of her voice. Hange never spoke like this. “Just leave me alone.”

“The fuck I will!” Levi almost growled. “Open that door or I swear I’ll break it down!”

“There is nothing you can do!” Hange screamed. A moment later, she started coughing, and Levi heard as she slid down to the floor. “There is nothing you can do,” she repeated, her voice raspy. “It’s best if I stay here, alone, until… Well,” she laughed bitterly. “You know.”

“I’m not letting you fucking die, Hange!”

“And what are you going to do? You saw those people, you saw how they’ve died! You know you can’t help me.”

“Well, the least I can do is try,” Levi slid to the floor as well, not caring about his pristinely white coat. He leaned against the door. “Hange, please…” his voice was quite, almost a whisper. “Just let me help you.”

“No, Levi, I can’t. This thing is highly contagious, I can’t risk you becoming infected as well.”

“Bullshit,” Levi answered, getting angry again. Why Hange wouldn’t listen to him? Just for once in their goddamn lives? “I’ve been treating those patients alongside you. And I still feel fine, so let me in.”

“Fine, maybe you aren’t infected, or maybe you aren’t as susceptible to the disease as I am, but Levi! Remember those patients. They’ve died before we could do anything! I don’t think I have much time left.”

“And if you continue to sit here, wallowing in self-pity, you’ll have even less time. Don’t be an idiot, Hange. You’ve told me yourself that this new bacteria has a very short lifespan. What exactly you’ve told me?”

“I said they probably live for only 24 hours, but Levi—!”

“Don’t ‘but Levi’ me,” he grumbled, cutting her off. “I know that this is just your theory, but more often than not, your theories are correct, Hange. I’m willing to bet that this one is correct as well. So if I manage to keep you alive for just a day, I believe that you’ll be able to fight off the disease.”

“You really believe that?” Hange’s voice was quiet and unsure.

“I do believe that,” Levi replied. “I will do anything to save you, Hange. You did the same thing for me, after all.”

“I did?” Hange chuckled, surprised by his words.

“Of course,” Levi nodded, even though Hange couldn’t see him. “Remember our college days? I’ve gotten a bad case of stomach flu, and have been puking my insides for three days straight. And you haven’t left my side even for a moment. Or, that time,” Levi closed his eyes, feeling the old wounds reopen. “When I got into that car accident? When I was lying in the hospital bed, all broken and despaired? When I have been grieving and mourning Isabel’s and Farlan’s deaths? When all I wanted to do was to curl up and fucking die?”

“Levi… I—”

“No,” Levi continued, ignoring Hange’s words. “You have to listen to this, Hange. I wanted to die back then, there was no reason for me to live, but you… you gave me a reason. You haven’t left me even then, you found this job for me, and—”

“Erwin got this job for you,” Hange reminded. “I just gave him your resume.”

“Whatever. Erwin gave me a purpose, but you… your kindness and friendship gave me a reason to get up in the mornings. I know it sounds fucking pathetic, but…” Levi trailed off, rubbing his face. “You make me happy, Hange. I love my job and I love helping people, but even more so, because I can do this alongside you. So, Hange, please, let me in. Let me help you, because I don’t think I can live, if I lose you as well.”

For a long moment there was silence, and Levi already prepared to say something more or to act on his promise and break the fucking door, when it finally opened.

Hange stood on the other side, leaning against the chair and breathing heavily. She was pale – cyanotic, the doctor in Levi said, but he didn’t listen to it. Cyanotic meant… no, cyanotic meant bad things, awful things, but Levi wasn’t going to focus on them. Hange was just pale, she had two night shifts in a row and she was understandably exhausted. A good night sleep was all she needed to feel better again.

“Let’s get you in bed,” Levi hugged Hange by the shoulders, leading her into one of the wards for the infectious patients.

“Are you saying this to all of your patients?” Hange giggled.

“I’m glad to know that the disease hasn’t affected your sense of humor. It’s still as horrible as it always have been.”

“Oi, it’s rude to talk to your patient that way!”

Levi shook his head in exasperation. “Just change your clothes and lay in bed. I’ll go and bring the needed equipment.”

“Levi,” Hange touched his arm. When he looked at her, there was a tiny, fond smile on her lips. “You don’t need to tell me all this stuff. I’m also a doctor, remember?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Levi nodded. “Sorry, just a habit,” he took Hange’s hand into his and briefly squeezed it. “I’ll be right back.”

After Levi brought everything he needed, connected Hange to the numerous tubes and wires, injected her with the strongest antibiotics their hospital had, there was nothing left for him to do rather than to stay by her side and watch every change, hoping for Hange’s fast recovery.

“Levi…” Hange slowly began. Levi turned his gaze away from the monitors and looked at her. But just as soon, he averted his eyes – Hange seemed so frail, so feeble in that bed. “If I d—”

“You won’t.” Levi instantly cut her off, refusing to hear what she wanted to say next. “You’ll survive this shit and will be back on your feet in no time.”

“But those patients!” Hange protested.

“Those patients were already weak. Their immune system was compromised, and they had a dozen of concomitant diseases. You, on the other hand, are young and healthy. You’ll be fine, and I don’t want to hear another word from you about death or some other depressing thing. Better yet, stop talking and get some rest.”

“That’s doctor’s orders?” Hange grinned weakly.

“You’re goddamn right,” Levi showed a small smile of his own.

Hange stared at him for another moment, before closing her eyes and falling into a restless slumber.

***

When she woke up, Hange's condition had considerably worsened. Her Sp02 was rapidly decreasing and Levi even had to put an oxygen mask over her face. With his heart in his throat, he watched how Hange was desperately trying to breathe, her chest heaving up and down.

“It hurts, Levi,” she croaked out. “It hurts so much.”

“I know,” Levi’s one hand held Hange’s and another one was softly playing with her hair. “I know it hurts, Hange, and I’m sorry. But you are strong, you can endure this. Soon it will pass, and you’ll feel better, I promise.”

“I…” Hange had another coughing fit, which shook her body. Levi shuddered as he saw blood on the white sheet of her bed. “I… need,” Hange continued when her coughing had subdued. “I need a reason… to survive.”

“Alright,” Levi gently caressed her palm. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

A small smirk appeared on Hange’s bloodied lips. “That’s a dangerous promise, doctor Ackerman.”

“I’m a dangerous man,” Levi shrugged, his eyes darting to the monitor beside Hange. It showed that Hange’s Sp02 almost returned to normal. Levi let himself relax. “So what do you want?”

Hange looked away from him, as an almost shy expression appeared on her face. “A date,” she whispered so quietly, Levi had to strain his ears to hear it.

“A date? With whom?”

“With whom do you think?” Hange glared at him. “Of course, I’m asking you to arrange me a date with Mike.”

“Mike?” Levi raised his eyebrows. “But he’s married!”

“You’re lucky,” Hange took a deep, shaky breath. “You’re lucky I’m weak now, Levi. I would have kicked you otherwise. I was talking about a date with… you.”

“Oh,” Levi’s eyes widened. “You want to go on a date with me? Alright, y-yeah, okay. Yes, I agree.”

Hange gave him a critical look. “Are you agreeing just because I’m on my death bed?”

“Idiot,” Levi growled, resisting the urge to smack her head. “You’re not on your death bed, and I didn’t agree out of pity or anything. Actually…” Levi trailed off, feeling his cheeks redden. “Actually I wanted to ask you out for a very long time. Just couldn’t find the courage to do so.”

“You wanted to go on a date with me?” Hange asked quietly. Levi didn’t know if her voice was so weak because of her illness, or she just couldn’t believe him.

“Of course, I did, four-eyes. I still do. I… I had a crush on you… for a while.”

Truth be told, Levi had a crush on Hange for as long as he knew her. However, something always stopped him from confessing his feelings. Maybe, he just didn’t want to make a fool out of himself, or maybe, he was afraid of her refusal. He didn’t want to destroy their friendship with his stupid, inappropriate feelings. Levi had never been so happy to be proven wrong.

“You have a crush on me?” Hange’s lips curled into a smile, and Levi’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. He loved that smile so much…

“I think we’ve already established that,” Levi hid his blushing face, lowering his head. Well, one of his fears did come true. Talking about his feeling was the worst. “Better tell me, where do you want to spend our first date?” Levi began, trying to keep Hange’s mind away from her pain. “I would have thought of something myself, but,” he shook his head. “You know I suck at this kind of things.”

“I want to go to the amusement park,” Hange sighed dreamily. “I want to go on a Ferris wheel. We’ll be holding hands and looking at the night city. And cotton candy! Yes, we will be sharing a cotton candy.”

Levi made a face. “I hate those things. They’re sticky and way too sugary.”

“Too bad, Ackerman,” Hange smirked. “You’ve already agreed to this.”

Levi sighed, admitting his defeat. “Alright, what else do you want to do?”

“Mm, then we should take a ride on a roller coaster, the biggest one they had. I hope, you’ll be screaming like a little girl.”

“Keep dreaming, four-eyes,” Levi softly chuckled.

“And then I’ll drag you to the shooting range. I’ll make you win me the biggest plushie they have.”

“And the ugliest, no doubt.”

“Ah, you know me so well,” Hange softly smiled.

“That I do,” Levi agreed. “Now, c’mon, stop talking,” his eyes slightly narrowed, as he saw Hange’s saturation begin to decrease again. “Save your breath and go to sleep. I’ll be there, when you wake up.”

***

Levi was slumping in his seat, watching every rise and fall of Hange’s chest. Hoping that movement doesn’t stop.

“Are you watching me sleep?” Hange mumbled without opening her eyes. “Creep.”

“I’m not a creep,” Levi answered, feeling his lips involuntarily twitch into a smile. “I’m a professional.”

“Mm, that’s what all creeps say.”

“Are you feeling better?” Levi got to his feet, deciding to inject Hange with another antibiotic.

“Not really,” Hange answered, avoiding his eyes. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“For a few hours.”

“Have you gotten any sleep?”

It was Levi’s turn to avoid Hange’s eyes. “I’ll rest when you get better.”

“Levi,” Hange chided. “You have to get some sleep.”

“You know I don’t need it much.”

“Alright, maybe, you don’t need to sleep,” it looked like Hange wasn’t going to give up easily. “But what about your other patients? Don’t you have to take care of them?”

“Who are you taking me for, four-eyes?” Levi rolled his eyes. “I’ve asked Mike and Erwin to look after them. Besides, I’m helping hundreds of patients right now.”

“Huh?” Hange’s face scrunched into a confused expression.

“I’m saving your life, dumbass,” Levi said in a far softer voice that he intended. “And by saving yours, I’m saving lives of other patients you’re going to help after you get back on your feet.”

“Levi…” Hange searched for his hand, and when she reached it, she took it in hers and squeezed. She looked deep into his eyes, not knowing what to say. She wanted to say so much, but she couldn’t do it. Not now, not until she actually gets better.

“It’s been almost fifteen hours since you’ve become ill,” Levi changed the subject, feeling the strange tension in the room. The look in Hange’s eyes was so intense and almost unreadable. “Ten more hours and you’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve told you already – I am a professional,” Levi huffed. “And I never give my patients false hopes.”

“So, I’m your patient, huh?” Hange looked at him with that mischievous glint in her eyes. With that expression on her face, she seemed almost healthy, almost normal. “Say, doctor Ackerman, am I your favorite patient?”

“No,” Levi replied curtly. “And let’s not make a habit of it, four-eyes.”

“Let’s not a habit of what? You taking care of me?”

“Let’s not make a habit of you getting dangerous diseases, idiot.”

“Can’t promise you anything, but… I’ll try.”

“With you, four-eyes, I couldn’t have hoped for a better answer.”

“Jeez, that’s so embarrassing,” Hange chuckled quietly. “But I’m getting sleepy again.”

“Drugs make you sleepy. Besides, your body needs as much energy as it can get. And I don’t think I need to explain it to you, Doctor Zoe.”

“Maybe, I just wanted to listen to the sound of your voice,” she showed Levi another one of her gentle smiles. “I’ll rest my eyes then,” she said, closing them. “Just for a while.”

Levi nodded and leaned in, kissing her sweat-covered temple. “Take your time.”

***

Levi didn’t know for how long he was sitting there, watching Hange and the monitors beside her bed. Her condition wasn’t improving, but it also wasn’t worsening. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad either. She was… stable. It gave Levi hope. That Hange had defeated the disease. That she would be alright. That she wouldn’t leave Levi alone.

Levi checked his watch. It’s been almost 24 hours, since Hange had contacted the disease.

He decided to perform an experiment of his own.

Slowly, with his heart pounding in his chest and his hands trembling, Levi took off Hange’s oxygen mask. His eyes were glued to the monitor, looking for any change. He scanned each parameter again and again – Hange’s Sp02, heart rate, blood pressure, and temperature – everything seemed to be normal.

He waited for a minute, than two. Nothing changed. Levi almost breathed out in relief.

And then Hange opened her eyes.

“You know as much as I like to see your face after waking up,” she drew out, smirking. “You’re looming over me like some kind of murderer.”

Levi didn’t reply, he said absolutely nothing, staring at Hange with wide, almost unblinking eyes.

“Um, Levi?” Hange called, feeling slightly uneasy. His gaze was quite unnerving. “Is everything alright?”

Again, Levi didn’t speak, but Hange suddenly noticed that he was holding something in his right hand. She squinted her eyes, trying to take a better look. “Oh,” she breathed out, as she finally understood what he was holding. “Is that my oxygen mask?”

Levi nodded, still staring at her.

“And I can breathe without it?”

Levi nodded once more.

“Oh,” Hange couldn’t quite wrap her head around. “So does that mean that I…”

“Yeah,” Levi sighed, letting go of the mask and leaning closer to Hange. “You’re getting better, Hange.”

“Well, that quite unexpected turn of events,” she chuckled.

Levi slightly pulled at her hair. “What the fuck do you mean? Did you doubt my skills as a doctor?”

“Maybe, the tiniest bit?” Hange giggled, making an innocent expression.

Levi scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Idiot,” he scolded her fondly.

“Mm, but I’m glad I’ve survived. Because that means we can go on our date!”

“Let’s start with getting you back on your feet,” Levi reminded. “And Hange?”

“Yes?”

“Please, take a shower before going on a date with me.”

Hange burst out laughing. “For you, my clean freak, I’ll even wash my hair!”

“What an honor,” Levi grumbled with a smile on his lips and a soft look in his eyes.

#i had to use all my medical knowledge to write this thing #although the fact that im on fifth year of a medical school doesn't mean im good at it kskldgjlsjg #levihan #levi ackerman #hanji zoe #hange zoe #levi x hange #levihan fanfiction #levi and hange #levi x hanji #Shingeki no Kyoijin #snk #snk fanfiction #snk fandom #levi attack on titan #levi snk

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clumsyclifford · 4 years

Text

kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor

Calum hums. "I could stay with you."

Again Michael's heart gives a lurch. "Really?"

"Yeah, why not?"

HELLO!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY @jbhmalum this is for you i got cute in the ao3 notes and im worried about repeating myself but anyway i really just love and treasure you je t’adore i really wish i could compliment you better in french but i simply do not have the words so suffice it to say that i am so so happy to know you i love reading your fics you are so unbelievably talented not to mention just mad cute and just overall an absolute delight i hope your birthday is super amazing and yeah i love you lots

so here’s a really fluffy domestic malum quarantine getting together fic per the birthday girl’s request i know you’re all thinking fluff???? from bella??? but joke’s on you because i wrote this several weeks ago don’t worry i am still emo inside

title from sunflower vol. 6 by harry styles <3 king shit

read it here on ao3

At risk of sounding overdramatic, Michael is going to die unless he sees Calum in the next week. Possibly less. He's experiencing severe Calum withdrawal, and it shows. Sleeping alone sucks more than Michael can put into words. There's no warm, steady weight against his back anymore, just the flimsy brush of his own duvet. He tucks it as tightly around himself as possible, but it's just not the same as Calum's embrace.

"I miss you," he whines over FaceTime one evening.

"You better," Calum replies. Then, immediately, "Sorry, I mean, I miss you too, obviously."

"You're on thin ice here," Michael grumbles.

"You already know I miss you," Calum tells him.

"I hate being in quarantine. This sucks so bad, Cal."

Calum nods, sighs. "You know…I've been in, like, proper quarantine for two weeks. More than that. Haven't seen anyone or done anything."

Michael makes a face. "Really? No one? Nothing?"

"Yeah, but I mean." Calum tilts his head on the screen. "I could probably come to yours."

For a moment Michael's heart leaps into his throat, and then, just as quickly, it plummets. "You can't," he says. "The travel, and plus then you'd be going back, and I'm pretty sure I've been in some suspicious places recently. I mean I'm being careful, but you know. I don't want you to get it or bring it back with you."

Calum hums. "I could stay with you."

Again Michael's heart gives a lurch. "Really?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"That'd be so amazing," Michael breathes. "Beyond awesome. Oh my God. Can — would you? Seriously?"

"Are you kidding me?" Calum gives Michael a look, like, do you even know me? "Michael. Like, I don't want to overstate things here, but I miss you more than I think I've ever missed anyone, excepting possibly Duke."

"Not as much as I miss you," Michael returns. "I've never missed anyone more. At all. Dogs included." Instantly that feels wrong. "Okay. That's a lie. But —"

"Ha!" Calum crows. "I miss you more. Get destroyed, Cliffo."

"You know what," Michael says petulantly, "maybe you shouldn't come visit."

"Funny," Calum says. "I'll sort my shit out here and then I can probably leave in a few days, is that alright?"

It's more than alright. It's actually the most brilliant thing Michael's ever heard. The prospect of seeing Calum lifts his mood way up into the stratosphere, and he grins, bubbly.

"Yeah, yeah, perfect," he says. "Can't wait."

The look on Calum's face says he can't wait, either.

It's been too many weeks to count since Michael's been hugged, but the moment Calum is in his arms, the time melts away. "Oh my God, I missed you so fucking much," he murmurs into Calum's shoulder. Calum chuckles.

"Yeah," he says, all fond. "Missed you too, Mikey."

"Let's never stop hugging," Michael suggests. "Ever."

Calum pats his back. "I think life would get pretty difficult pretty quickly."

"I don't really see how."

"The bathroom, for starters."

"We'd figure it out. I've seen you naked."

"That's not. Really." Calum laughs. "Fuck. I really missed you. Come on. Invite me in."

"No," Michael says, as Calum pulls reluctantly out of his hold. Calum frowns. "You might have corona."

"Oh, fuck off."

Laughing loudly, Michael leads Calum in. Immediately, Southy and Moose are at his heels, yapping excitedly. Calum kneels, grinning. "Hey, guys! Miss me much?"

"They can just smell Duke on you," Michael says in mock-contempt. It's generally accepted that Moose and Southy favor Calum over, well, basically anyone, but Michael refuses to cave. They're his fucking dogs.

"Oh, fuck," Calum remembers, straightening up, to Moose's displeasure. "Duke."

"Go get him," Michael says. "I'll put your shit in your room."

Calum smiles at Michael, the big, bright one, eyes crinkling in the corners so they almost disappear. Michael thinks if he had to pick one thing to wax poetic about forever, it would be this smile, and how it makes him feel gooey and melty inside whenever Calum turns it on him.

"What?" Michael finally demands, when Calum doesn't say anything.

Calum shakes his head. "Does it have to be something, man? I'm just fuckin' happy."

Michael breathes out, feeling lighter than he has in ages. "Me too."

And with that, Calum turns and goes to get Duke from the car. Michael carries Calum's stuff to Calum's room, which is actually a guest room that's been broken in by Calum enough times that they started calling it his. Not that he stays there that often. Borne of habit from both childhood and hotel rooms, Michael and Calum always elect to share the bed. This, among millions of things, has made Michael's life hard in quarantine. Sleeping alone sucks.

Michael gives the room a once-over as he deposits Calum's bags down. It has minimal decorations but the few that are here are very much Calum. A photograph of the sunset off the beach near their childhood homes hangs above the dresser, and there's a comically large poster of Alex Gaskarth above the bed, which, Michael is somewhat sure, had been the result of a lost bet.

Arms wrap around his middle. "Hey."

"You get Duke set up?" Michael asks, resting his hands against Calum's and tilting his head back.

"On a trial basis, yeah. He's gotten really territorial about his food, though, so if either of your kids tries anything…"

"My kids?"

"Your dogs," Calum says dismissively. "I'm just saying, Duke could kick their asses."

"Um, excuse me?" Michael twists around, prying himself out of Calum's grip. "First of all, it would be two on one, and there's no way your weak-ass mutt could —"

"Weak-ass mutt?"

" — also, Southy can and will scratch, and I know for a fact Moose has never read the Geneva Convention."

"Yeah, but they like me more," Calum says cheekily. Michael makes an offended face, and Calum swoops in and kisses his cheek.

"Hey, don't try that shit. They do not like you more."

“Okay,” Calum says, in a very unconvincing voice. “So. What’s for dinner?”

“Nothing for you if you keep this up,” Michael grumbles, scowling.

Calum chuckles. “I can look through your pantry and make something?”

“I just said I’m not feeding you.”

“Right, that’s why I’m going to be feeding you. ”

Michael huffs. “Don’t cook, we can order something.”

“No, I’m gonna cook. I’ve missed cooking for you.”

“Really? For me? ”

“Yes,” Calum says, looking strangely at Michael. “For you. I’ve missed spending time with you. Doing things for you. Why do you think I sent you the care package?”

“Because you love me?”

“Yeah,” Calum says, which is a little unfair, because Michael had been teasing and had expected Calum to tease in return. But Calum just looks matter-of-fact. “Exactly. So let me cook for you.”

Michael squirms, torn between the desire to make another joke or to let Calum’s love settle over his shoulders like a second skin. “Okay,” he concedes. “I’ll be supervising so I know you won’t poison me, though.”

Calum’s eyes crinkle with his smile. “Oh, no. Hanging out with me in the kitchen while I cook? I can’t think of anything worse.”

“Stop being so fucking sappy,” Michael whines. “You’re making me feel bad for being bitchy.”

“No, by all means,” Calum says airily. “Keep mocking me, your best friend, while I remind you over and over again how much I’ve missed you. I don’t mind at all.”

“You’re a shit,” Michael says, swatting at Calum’s shoulder. “Go make me dinner, peasant.”

“Bossy.”

“You asked to make dinner!”

Calum laughs, and turns to go start dinner. Michael trails after, because whatever he says, however he mocks Calum, he’s missed him far too much to let him out of Michael’s sight for too long.

(And also, Michael likes to try and distract Calum while he cooks. It’s in his top five favorite sports.)

Having Calum here feels so natural it makes Michael wonder if they’d ever actually spent any time apart or if it had been a hallucination. They fall back into routine so easily, routine established from every part of their lives spent together; traditions created back in school, behaviors formed and reinforced through years of sharing hotel rooms, habits only known to the other. Calum slots back into the Calum-shaped gap he’d left when quarantine started, and it’s as if he’d never been gone.

Michael likes the bubble they’re existing in now, where they speak to no one but each other, go nowhere but the store to replenish depleted groceries, and pretend that time isn’t passing in the outside world. They make a dent in their long list of movies to watch together, and occasionally make fun of. Calum runs in the morning while Michael sleeps, and every morning wakes him for breakfast while Michael bitches. They walk their dogs together.

(Michael gapes when Calum lets Duke off his leash.

“Since fucking when?” he accuses.

“He’s a grown dog,” Calum says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Michael, he’s like a foot long with attachment issues. He won’t go anywhere.”

Michael stares reproachfully at Moose and South. They stare innocently back. Calum chuckles and pats Michael on the back. “You can let ‘em off as long as I’m here. You know they won’t run away from me.”

“Fuck you,” Michael retorts, looping the leash once more around his wrist. Dream on, he thinks, eyeing his dogs.)

And it’s easy, for a week or two, to think that this is just how people are, or if not, that this is just how they are, how Michael and Calum exist in the world. They’ve been best friends since forever, and there’s no one else in Michael’s life who fills the shoes that Calum does — and why should there be, when he has Calum? It’s not like Michael’s ever needed anyone else, or anything else. Homeless or starving or broke or on a deserted island or stranded in outer space or drowning in an ocean or on death row, Michael’s only wish would be Calum.

Of course it would, though. Calum is everything. Michael’s known that for ages.

They don’t even start under the pretense that Calum will be staying in “his” room; from his very first night at Michael’s he doesn’t even open that door, just follows after Michael when Michael declares he’s going to retire for the night and slips under the blanket with him, wordlessly, a silent agreement that there’s no reason to torture themselves sleeping alone when they don’t need to. This quarantine has given them both a new perspective on solitude; namely, avoid at all costs. So Michael snuggles up to Calum, content even to be the little spoon if it means Calum’s the one whose front is all lined up with Michael’s back, whose arm is slung tightly over Michael’s middle, an unspoken promise that Michael’s not getting away from Calum if Calum has any say. It’s comforting to be held, but not necessary; Michael wouldn’t leave Calum’s arms if the house were on fire.

(Okay, maybe if the house were on fire. But he’d definitely wake Calum for that.)

They do the bare minimum promoting CALM — mostly Michael likes leaving that stuff to Luke anyway, who, as lead singer, gets the bulk of the attention for it. Sometimes Michael decides to be resentful about that, but now it’s nice to know that the world doesn’t expect much from him, from either of them. They FaceTime with Luke and Ashton, who express openly and loudly how envious they are of Calum and Michael spending time together. The world spins on, with Michael purposefully ignoring it. Life is wonderful.

“Right, what’s next on the list?” Calum asks, handing Michael a glass of water and collapsing onto the couch. He kicks his legs up and stretches them across Michael’s lap. Michael gives him a look, and Calum just gives Michael a cheeky grin as he takes a sip of his own water.

“The Umbrella Academy, ” Michael says.

“Isn’t that a show?”

“Yeah, well, it’s next on the list.”

Calum frowns. “Why haven’t we got a separate list for TV shows?”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Because we’re idiots? Or because we probably never anticipated having this much time to actually get through the list. Do you want to watch it or not?”

“Oh, definitely,” Calum says. “Isn’t that, fuckin’…Mikey Way’s, or something? One of the MCR guys?”

“Gerard. Yeah.”

“Dope,” Calum says. Michael reaches for the remote while Calum pulls his legs off of Michael, shuffling around on the couch until his head is on Michael’s lap, legs thrown up over the armrest. Michael settles his free hand onto Calum’s crown, running his fingers along the short hair over his scalp. It’s not that he prefers Calum with more hair — generally speaking, Michael’s favorite version of Calum is always whichever one exists at the moment — but he does miss having more hair to play with. He suspects Calum misses that, too. Calum always liked Michael playing with his hair.

“You might have trouble drinking if you’re laying down like this,” Michael observes wryly, although he hopes Calum doesn’t sit up. It may be stupidly domestic, to be like this with Calum, but that’s always been them, and Michael likes it that way. Prefers it. Friends are stupidly domestic sometimes. Aren’t they?

“Whatever,” Calum says, setting his glass blindly onto the floor in front of the couch. “Don’t, like, kick to the right, and we’ll be fine.”

Michael shakes his head fondly and hits play on the first episode of the show. It’s a good show, and for the first episode he and Calum are both equally taken by it. When it ends, Duke shuffles into the room in search of company, and Calum pats the couch to invite him up. “My son,” he whispers as Duke precariously attempts to climb the couch. “Come here, my son. I can lift you up. I can show you what you want to see and take you where you want to be.”

“Are you,” Michael says, briefly distracted from starting the next episode. “Are you singing Capital Cities to Duke?”

“Shut up,” Calum says, making grabby hands towards Duke until Duke gets the message and comes close enough for Calum to grab. “You’re just jealous ‘cause neither of your dogs want to hang out with you.”

“Because they’re normal dogs who sleep at this hour.” Duke settles himself onto Calum’s chest, collapsing with an adorable whoomph, nose brushing up against Calum’s chin. It’s too cute for words, the pair of them. Michael feels his heart clench inexplicably, and looks away.

“Jealous,” Calum sing-songs. “Go on, start the episode, what’re you waiting for?”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to watch with Duke sitting on top of you.”

Calum makes a dismissive noise. “I’ll be fine.”

And he is fine, right up until he falls asleep about fifteen minutes in. Michael notices straightaway, and wonders when exactly he got so attuned to Calum that he can tell in an instant if he’s awake or asleep. Sure enough, glancing down, Calum is exhaling gently, steadily enough that he’s obviously dropped off. Duke is dozing on Calum’s chest. Once again, Michael’s heart does that squeezing thing that leaves Michael vaguely confused. It’s just Calum. It’s always just Calum; what’s happening now that never used to happen before?

For a moment, Michael entertains the idea of just sitting here forever. It’s a tempting option. Michael’s hand has stalled in Calum’s hair but it still rests there, fingertips grazing the nape of his neck, and Calum’s chest is rising and falling rhythmically, raising and lowering Duke with it. The scene is endearing, charming beyond explanation, the kind of thing that makes Michael wish you could frame moving pictures like they do in Harry Potter, just to watch this moment for the rest of his life. He’d put it up in his bedroom, and look at it whenever he was in need of some sense of peace.

If Calum is asleep, though, it must mean he’s tired, and they should probably go to bed if that’s the case. Michael gives himself another long moment to just watch his best friend sleep, face restful and all creases smoothed. He clicks off the TV.

“Cal,” he whispers.

There’s no response.

“Calum,” Michael repeats softly, scratching his fingernails over Calum’s scalp. “Calum, babe.”

Calum hums and his eyes open groggily. He lifts an arm to rub a hand over his face, and Duke jerks awake. “Hmm,” Calum manages, staring up into Michael’s face with a vaguely blank look. “Oh. Fuck. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Michael says. “Bedtime, though. I’m kind of tired anyway.”

Calum grabs Duke in his hands and then, with an almighty groan, heaves himself into a sitting position, gently lowering Duke to the ground. Duke leaves the room, possibly to go and harass Moose and South into letting him sleep with them. Michael sees a lot of Calum in Duke.

For a second Calum just sits, elbows braced against his knees, face in his hands. Michael furrows his brow. “You feeling okay?”

Calum breathes out. “Yeah, yeah. Just — more tired than usual, I guess.”

“Sleep in tomorrow,” Michael offers. “Lazy day. I love lazy days.”

“Mike, all your days are lazy days.”

“Fuck you, firstly, and secondly, none of my days are lazy days with you.” Michael pokes at Calum’s shoulder. “Which is obviously completely different, because it means we can cuddle all day, or do whatever. And get takeout! Come on, Cal, lazy day, lazy day, pajama day, lazy day —”

“Okay, okay,” Calum relents. “Yes, fine. Fine.” Michael grins and wraps Calum in a hug from the side, and Calum shakes his head, although Michael knows him well enough to know it’s fond exasperation at worst.

“Lazy day,” Michael sings lightly. Calum huffs a laugh. “Let’s go to bed.”

They go, and Michael’s heart does that squeezing-clenching thing again when Calum burrows into Michael’s chest once they’ve gotten under the duvet. He seems to be tipsy off tiredness, but it’s not anything Michael hasn’t seen before, and he doesn’t know why he’s reacting differently all of a sudden.

Must be the tiredness getting to me too, he thinks dismissively, pretending not to think about the fact that he’s no more tired than usual and he’s been tired before, without weird thoughts about Calum cramming their way into his mind. Best to sleep it off.

(Part of him doesn’t want to sleep it off, though. It’s a lovely fantasy, thinking he and Calum might be something more — not that he wants that, necessarily, but if he were going to want it, he doesn’t think it would be so bad. In the safety of his own mind, in fleeting thoughts, it’s nice to think about. Calum’s Calum, after all. It makes sense that eventually even Michael would start to think things. Just as long as he knows they’re all far-fetched things that are far too delusional to ever be anything but silly, sleepy, inexplicable ideas.)

“G’night,” Calum murmurs, sending a buzz from his words across Michael’s skin. Michael shivers, and hopes Calum doesn’t pick up on it.

“Sleep well,” Michael says quietly, lips brushing Calum’s hair. “And if you get up before ten, I’ll spread rumours about you on Twitter.”

Calum barely breathes out a giggle before he sighs and falls asleep. Michael doesn’t see the point in being awake without Calum, and without ceremony falls asleep as well, warm from Calum’s body lined up against his own.

Despite Michael’s threat, he still wakes up to an empty bed, covers thrown back where Calum must have gotten out. Of course he has. Michael starts brainstorming vaguely irritating rumour ideas to put on Twitter.

It’s eleven, though, which means that technically Calum could have woken up after ten but before Michael. Either way, Michael’s waking up alone again, and that’s annoying.

He shuffles out of bed, pulling on Calum’s Youngblood hoodie as he pads into the kitchen, where, predictably, Calum is making breakfast. Michael wraps his arms around Calum’s waist and hooks his chin over Calum’s shoulder. Calum jerks at the touch before apparently realizing who it is, and settling backwards into it.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Calum greets him, turning his head to give Michael a kiss on his temple. It strikes Michael as a strangely romantic thing to do, which isn’t a thought he needs to be having. “I promise I wasn’t up before ten.”

“Hmph,” Michael grumbles, which is morning-Michael-speak for come back to bed, but Calum either doesn’t understand or chooses to ignore it. Eyeing the griddle on the stove, he adds, “Pancakes?”

Calum nods. “See, when you wake up early, this is the kind of thing you have time for.”

“Worst lazy day partner ever,” Michael sniffs. “I want to cuddle.”

“What if we eat breakfast and then cuddle?”

“What if you come back to bed and then we eat pancakes when we wake up?”

Calum chuckles. “I don’t know how you’re tired right now. It’s eleven.”

“I don’t know how you’re not,” Michael says, horrified. “It’s eleven.”

Calum just laughs. “I love you,” he says, apropos of nothing, and Michael’s heart does a triple backflip.

“I know,” he says. “If this is a ploy to get me to forgive you for getting me out of bed at eleven in the morning, it’s not working.”

“It’s not a ploy,” Calum says. “But it is working.”

It is working. Just for saying that, though, Michael stubbornly wishes it weren’t, but it’s too late; Calum’s already softened his defenses, thawed his prickly morning mood. “Fuck you,” he mumbles. Calum makes another half-laugh noise and even though Michael’s not looking at his face, he can tell — he can almost feel — the way Calum’s eyes crinkle with his smile.

“You can grab the syrup from the fridge,” he tells Michael. Michael hugs Calum tighter and buries his face in Calum’s neck.

“No,” he says, voice muffled in Calum’s skin. “Shut up.”

“You can’t cuddle me while I’m making pancakes, Mikey.”

“Fucking watch me.”

“Mike.”

“Shh, napping,” Michael mumbles, closing his eyes. He can feel Calum’s racing heartbeat pulsing in his neck, against Michael’s cheek, and distantly wonders why it’s racing. Calum relents, thankfully, and for a moment they just stand there, in the peaceful quiet of the kitchen, Michael’s hands loosely curled into Calum’s shirt. They fit so well it’s almost criminal. “This is perfect,” he sighs, breath hot against his own face where it bounces off Calum’s skin.

Calum settles a hand on Michael’s. “What is?”

Michael hums. “This,” he says again, although he knows that’s mostly meaningless, and it could mean anything. “You. You being here. Just this.”

It’s still kind of nonsensical, but Calum seems to understand anyway. It’s what they do best, understanding each other when nobody else can, when nobody else would bother trying. “I missed you more than I think it’s normal to miss someone,” Calum says quietly. To an outsider listening in, it would sound like a change of subject, but Michael knows it isn’t. It’s perfect to me, too, Calum is saying. It wasn’t any good before. The words hover before them, almost like giving Michael the option to ignore them.

Michael had known that, of course. Michael had also missed Calum more than it’s normal to miss someone. He’d kind of just figured that was how they operated. Calum is saying it like it should be news, like it should mean something monumental, but it’s all the same to Michael. He missed Calum more than a normal person ought to, but not more than Calum deserves. It’s Calum.

“Your heartbeat’s really fast,” Michael murmurs, also a surface change of subject, trying to say so many things, like I missed you too, an insane amount, and is this new for you, too, or just for me? and have I never noticed that your heart pounds when I hug you, or has it just never before? and it’s okay with me, whatever the answer is. He’s almost afraid to pick his head up, scared that he’s going to see the look on Calum’s face and not like it, scared that it’s going to be what he wants it to be. Scared that something is going to change, but almost more afraid that nothing will.

Calum breathes a laugh. “Of course you would notice that.”

“My face is on your neck,” Michael says. “How could I not notice.”

“I meant it,” Calum says, which Michael had also known, and he knows what Calum means, too; not just that he’d meant what he said, but also what he hadn’t, the unspoken this that Michael had been talking about in the first place.

“So did I,” Michael says, meaning that he meant everything he didn’t say, and he wonders if Calum had understood it, but it’s Calum, and they’re them, so of course Calum has understood it. He picks his head up off Calum’s shoulder and Calum twists himself around in Michael’s arms, hands fluttering over Michael’s shoulders before landing. Michael is tempted to point out that he probably shouldn’t turn his back on an open flame, and he probably would if he didn’t think it would ruin the moment. They’re definitely in a moment right now, which should probably be weird, but it isn’t. This should feel weird, but it doesn’t, because it’s Calum.

Michael wonders how many exceptions he’s made in his life for Calum, and how many more he’ll make at the drop of a hat. There’s the world, and then there’s Calum, and the rules stop applying somewhere in transit.

Calum rests his forehead against Michael’s. “I thought that maybe it was just me.”

“How could it be just you?” Michael says softly. His own heartbeat is thudding in his chest. “If it’s you, then it’s me. That’s always been true.”

“This is different,” Calum says, except it’s not. “You changed your mind. Recently.”

Michael blinks. “How do you know that?”

“I just,” Calum shrugs, helplessly. “I don’t know. I could just tell. I can tell.”

“I didn’t change my mind,” Michael says, because he doesn’t know what to say to everything else Calum’s just revealed. Like that Calum must have known before Michael knew. And that Calum must have been waiting for Michael to screw his fucking head on right. And that Calum had noticed, the moment it happened. “I just realized, you idiot. You should have fucking told me.”

“This is my fault? ”

“You knew!”

“I thought it was just me,” Calum repeats.

“Well that was a stupid fucking assumption to make,” Michael tells him. “You were waiting for me to realize.”

“I wasn’t waiting, I was just…” Calum frowns. “Hoping.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m here now,” he says. “I’m all caught up.” They’re dancing around it, he notices, because Michael is just finding his footing and Calum is probably waiting for Michael to say psych!, and neither of them wants to say it. Once they say it, it’s a fact.

It’s a fact already, though. It’s been a part of the MichaelandCalum history since they met, and they’ve both just been idiots about it, basically.

Calum’s eyes crinkle as the ghost of a smile starts to lift at the corners of his lips, and before Michael can even begin to wax poetic about it, they’re kissing. It makes so much sense to be kissing that Michael doesn’t even think, for a moment, that it’s strange. It just feels nice, and feels right, and Calum’s mouth is warm and tastes like chocolate, inexplicably.

Calum exhales sharply when they part. “Fucking finally,” he says, breath hot on Michael’s lips.

“You could have told me we’re in love,” Michael says. “I wish I’d fucking known.”

“Don’t blame this on me. You could have opened your fucking eyes.”

“Pancakes,” Michael remembers. “You’re making pancakes. You should make them.”

“I think, maybe,” Calum says, and then nothing else, just catches Michael in another kiss, sweet like the last, familiar like everything to do with Calum, one of Calum’s hands curling steadily around the back of Michael’s neck. Michael doubts if he’s ever felt more at home than he does right now.

“Okay,” Michael says hoarsely against Calum’s mouth. “More of that. Pancakes later.”

Calum grins. The pancakes sit on the island until they’re cold, vapor dissolving into the cool kitchen air. The world spins on. Life is wonderful.

#michael clifford #calum hood #malum #malum fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #actual fluff..........i cannot Believe #how organized am i that this was done and written a couple WEEKS ago #and drafted on thursday bc sunday is HECITC for me #but em i wish you the happiest of birthdays #i hope this fic makes you smile #stuff #i always forget to put my talk tag on these lmao

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cxmetery-gates · 3 years

Text

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER FIVE: COFFEE AND TINDER

SUMMARY: Lynn and Gabriel have a heart-to-heart talk about her last lover, with Gabe offering barely-legal suggestions. WORD COUNT: 2.45k NOTES: Gabe is probably my favorite character WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston, mentions of past relationships, break-up talk, h*tler reference?? never thought i’d write that

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

THE SOUND OF A BELL alerts the classroom that the period is over. Everyone had been already packed and ready to go minutes before Mr. Hiddleston even began wrapping up his lesson. Even when I suffered through chemistry or dragged my deflated soul through finance, I never thought of putting my notes and pens away so soon. I know more than one student saw the icy glare I sent across the room but, most importantly and unfortunately, I also know nearly all of them didn't catch the slight disappointment in Mr. Hiddleston's tone.

I truly despise most people.

From the moment class started, it's been so unmistakably clear how much he loves what he teaches, that he enjoys what he spent thousands of dollars on just to show people how great literature is. I understand that all too well— save the going into debt part. Teachers are often times so mundane with their knowledge, not realizing how the way they present the information affects our understanding and interest in such. This is why high school teachers are stereotyped as people who just want a paid summer vacation. However, Mr. Hiddleston really put effort into his theatrics, like his lecture was a play. People with a teaching degree should teach in this way— why else go penniless willingly? The overall excitement was entertaining. And for that, I have to give the man some credit.

"Alright, guys. We'll be diving into the second part of this lecture tomorrow. Have a good one, you are dismissed." I don't think Mr. Hiddleston needed to announce the last blip of his closing statement. As I said, people are so rude.

Ellie begins to shove her notepad and other items into her bag after our teacher finishes speaking, reminding me of my kind company. I, on the other hand, am scrambling to take the last bit of notes, trying to relay any possible concepts mentioned on to paper. While there might not have been much depth in today's class, jotting down every last tidbit of information could be life or death. Or perhaps I'm just anal-retentive when it comes to note-taking. By the time I finish the note, Ellie is already standing.

"Girl, hurry up. We gotta go!" She drags out the last vowel of the last word humorously.

I wave my hand at her, flipping pages and dodging paper cuts. "Go on without me. I'll be fine," I say, remembering that Ellie's homeroom is on the first floor and the farthest down the hall.

Rolling her big brown eyes, she sighs, walking backward. "I'll miss you poppet. I love you." Her fake British accent is terrible, but I don't bother enlightening her. Perhaps the slight discoloration in her cheeks and how fast she dashed out of the room was due to finding Mr. Hiddleston in ear-shot of her terrible accent. I bite my lip, forcing myself to look away out of sheer second-hand embarrassment.

Once all my belongings are together, I turn to leave.

"That truly was an awful mockery," Mr. Hiddleston says in my direction from the whiteboard. His long toned arms wipe the marker away as I begin to walk past him.

I chuckle. "I'll let her know you said that."

Mr. Hiddleston fakes a groan, placing the eraser on the marker tray then turning to face me with those oh-so-charming eyes. There's no other way to describe them other than mesmerizing. "Oh, don't tell her I said it. I like being liked."

"Being 'liked' is the least of your worries with these girls," I mumble, mostly to humor myself. However, I must have been louder than anticipated. The innuendo is heard and doesn't fly over his head.

A titter of a laugh is heard from the man, and I now regret the words I mumbled. "So I have been told," he replies, making a slightly uncomfortable face. I can't blame him; anyone would feel incredibly awkward if teaching a class full of people who would sell both kidneys just to see them without a shirt.

Not in my dreams would I have imagined having a conversation with Mr. Hiddleston about how everyone wants to nail him. While such a phrase hasn't been explicitly noted, I have a feeling both our minds are in the same gutter. And with that recognition, an awkward heat embraces me. I press my lips together tightly and offer a shrug. "I think the proper thing for me to say is good luck."

Seeming to take my word, Mr. Hiddleston passes me a smile. I can't read what the meaning is, but I'll take it nonetheless with a cough to clear my throat. "Ah, well, as much as I love juicy gossip and scandals, I've got a stuck up prune for homeroom, so I definitely need to get going." I send him a wave, making my exit as awkward as possible.

"Warntz?" He asks.

My nose wrinkles at the name. It eve sounds terrible, almost as terrifying as Trunchbull or Umbridge. "You betcha."

"Good luck, Lynn. You've got two minutes."

I want to give another sassy remark, but the teasing look I find when I look over my shoulder sends my body into another blush. Muttering something close to 'whatever,' I decide that leaving is for the best, even if that means awaiting an angry, shriveled up raisin.

══════════════════

Exiting the high school front doors a few hours before the final bell is like the biggest sigh of relief and 'sucks to be you' to everyone else. An arm wraps around my shoulder, one I embrace kindly.

"So, we've got an hour on our hands," Gabriel reminds me, hinting we'll have to come back to grab Ellie and River. As he speaks, I toss my head back on his toned bicep. I swear he works out too much for an unpopular loser. "What would you like to do?"

I groan, dragging my chin down to my chest. "Why do I have to decide? You know I hate making decisions."

"We're taking second lunch here, Lynn. It isn't life or death, you weirdo," Gabe chortles.

"Can we just go get a coffee? I feel like I'm about to pass out." For effect, I pretend to faint, nearly going complete limp before his arms can hoist me back up.

Rolling his dark eyes, my partner in crime pulls a set of keys from his pocket, swinging the lanyard around his fingers while we head towards a tattered white truck being held together by zip ties, duct tape, and love. "You and Elle with your coffee addiction."

"Could be meth," I retort.

Snorting, Gabe slips a key into the slit on the driver's side. I stand on the opposite, sending a humored smile. "Yeah, as if that's any worse."

We make it to the local coffee shop in no time. Luckily for us, the lunch rush hour in this town ends just as we hit the road if we avoid the main highways that is. Gabe's truck and the coffee shop have a similar aesthetic: crowded, old, falling apart with an overwhelming sense of home and personality. I can't count how many times I've broken down and received well off advice from him in both locations. It feels safe here and being around him. Gabe's like the much older brother (by a month) that I never had. We're both complete, utter assholes to each other about 60% of the time, enforcing the sibling-like bond we have.

"Thank you," I say sweetly to the barista as he places my cold brew in front of me and Gabe's hot chocolate in front of him. Mimicking my gratitude, Gabe gives his thanks as the employee shuffled away, awkwardly patting at his frizzy hair.

We both take a sip and visibly relax. "So, the first day of our last year of high school." Gabe is also the mom friend. "Tell me, dear, how were all your classes?"

"Oh, dearest mother, I feel so content with my choices," I reply with a vintage accent, acting as though my voiced popped in from the 1920s. "How ever will I pick a favorite?"

Wiggling his brows, Gabe replies, "I hear someone landed themselves in the hottest teacher's class."

Prompting to return to my normal voice, I roll my eyes, a huff expelling from my diaphragm. "He's definitely a piece of eye candy, I'll tell you that."

"Took four years to figure that one out? I didn't realize unobservant you are." Taking a pause, Gabe brings to smirk widely. "Maybe that's why you haven't asked River out yet."

My eyes grow wide, my skin goes red. Looking at anywhere other than Gabe's eyes and smirking lips is a must. "I don't know—"

"Lynn, everyone knows."

"Sure, but he doesn't." I pause. "Wait, does he?"

"Dude, no, of course, he doesn't. He still thinks you're heartbroken over Trinity."

Ah, yes, Trinity. Who knew a happy year and two months could be wholly demolished beyond reconciliation in a single weekend? Certain not I, as I have spent the past three months moving on and over the ordeal. An annoyed grunt leads my cheek to rest in my fist. "He thinks I'm not over it?"

Gabe leans forwards. "None of us do, Lynn."

I stay silent.

"What happened... you didn't deserve that. Hell, Hitler wouldn't have deserved that. Probably."

"Weeeeell—"

"Point is, I know you're still trying to find a way to heal. You've done a damn good job, duh. But River thinks you're still in love with her."

"Ugh. I'd rather eat hairy horse shit than see her ever again."

Gabriel nods, "I was hoping that would be the case."

Knocking my knuckles on the wooden table, I let out an exaggerated sigh. "Man, I'm tired."

"You know we're all here for you, right?" Gabe asks, leaning in just a few inches. I want to roll my eyes, tell him that he worries too much, but I can't. I can't tell him, not because I want him to shut up or to change the topic, but because he knows me. To Gabe, I'm an open book.

I run out of words to say relating to the topic. The breakup is old news, everything following the incident becoming irrelevant memories and irreplaceable time. I'm kidding myself when I say I've moved on entirely because Gabriel is right: I haven't. Sometimes my thoughts get stuck on what I could have done better or what I should have done to convince her to stay. Despite these annoying blips, I know deep down that it was inevitable, that her consistent cheating and the emotional manipulation would only surface for everyone to see in due time. If they hadn't— which I tried to keep from happening— I have a gut-wrenching feeling I'd still be in the situation. I had a feeling Trinity and me wouldn't last, but it wasn't until after things ended did I realize how well she had me wrapped around her finger. It's taken months to find my way out of her web, but I now face the scary journey of recovery. Thankfully, the process has not been as hard as I anticipated. After all, living two cities away certainly helps.

"Yeah, I know. I'm still going through the motions. I just want it to speed up, you know?"

Smirking and pulling his hand back, Gabriel replies, "Maybe a Tinder will help?"

My nose wrinkles at the mere consideration. Hooking up, dating apps, meeting strangers behind a phone— not really my thing. "Nah, I'll pass on that offer, thanks."

"Suit yourself."

"Hmm, maybe I'll look into a sugar daddy site. Money from older men might make me feel a bit better."

Gabriel takes a sip of his hot chocolate, grinning. "Well, you have an interesting way with teachers. If you're struggling in a particular class, maybe that little fantasy of yours will come true."

"Oh yes, I can't wait to hop on Mr. Riley's seventy-year-old dick."

"Mhmm, yummy."

At this, I bark into a laughing-while-painfully-cringing fit. Never being a fan of the phrase "yummy" and having it tied to a man that's so old he's basically decaying, I find every part of this new conversation revoltingly hilarious. I guess my sudden outburst of laughter caught Gabe off guard, staring at me with a shocked grin and fixing the infamous beanie he wears. I couldn't count how many times I've seen him without; you can't count to zero.

"It really wasn't that funny," he says with a small hiccup of laughter in his voice.

I settle myself now that I feel the eyes of everyone in the coffee shop staring. "You're right, but something about it made me crack." I flip my phone over to check the time. "Should we be getting back? They've got twenty minutes left."

Gabe nods and lets out a content sigh. "Yeah, I guess so."

We decide to chug the rest of our beverages quickly— now room temperature and not as satisfying— before heading back out into the world. Away in the parking lot, the truck seems to beckon us to its forty-year-old, duct-tape-bound seats. As Gabe unlocks the truck doors, I let out a content sign and stare up at the sky. Above, the sun beams down on us and, like an idiot, I managed to look directly into it. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust but by that point, a dark cloud rolled over the blinding, distant star.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

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writingrei · 4 years

Text

beating around the bush

Ichigo leaned back on the wall underneath the bridge, covering his face with a limp arm. His gritted teeth sucked harsh breaths between them before he unclenched his jaw to take in lighter breaths.

“Are you alright, Ichigo?” Chad asked from afar.

Ichigo raised his arm from above his eyes, taking a glance at Chad, who was brushing off his clothes of dust. The redhead covered his eyes again and huffed, sighing, “Yeah, I’m fine. I should probably ask you that. Dude hit you in the head with a bat.”

“Hmm. I’m alive,” Chad said, staggering over to Ichigo.

Ichigo’s eyebrows creased, concern growing ever more in his face. Getting closer to Ichigo, Chad failed to raise his leg high enough off the ground, the concrete catching the tip of his shoe, making him lose his footing. Ichigo gasped through his teeth, while Chad only let out a slight waver in his voice in surprise.

Ichigo impulsively reached out to catch his friend, pulling back when two firm hands slammed on the wall behind him to catch the large teen’s fall. Startled, Ichigo looking between the two arms that were held next to both sides of his head. With his eyes darting around, his eyes awkwardly made its way to Chad’s one visible eye.

He was just as shocked as Ichigo, if not more so as he was utterly frozen in place. He knew that this position was awkward, though he didn't know how to move to make this less awkward. It didn’t help that blood was running down his face, and that he looked like the scene of a murder.

Lowering his head slightly, which covered his eye with his hair again, Chad said, “Oops…” which snapped himself out of his stupor. But he didn’t move.

What is going ooooooon?! Ichigo thought. Ah, shit. There’s no one around anymore.

Chad groaned, dropping his right arm and bending his left, getting him closer to the wall. He slumped down a bit, but it didn’t help him from continuing to tower over Ichigo. It sure did help him get closer to his face though.

The redhead gulped, looking up at Chad who practically hung over his head. “You uh… you doin’ okay, buddy?”

“Ichigo...” Chad said, his voice significantly more lax than prior.

Ichigo immediately turned as red as a tomato, his face burning enough to spew steam from his ears.

Then Chad dropped like a rock, Ichigo trying to catch him but in turn got dragged down with him. Ichigo yelped, one of his hands being caught between the ground and Chad’s back, his knuckles and elbow slamming into the concrete with it. He was too busy absorbed in the minor pain and shock that he didn’t realize he landed partially on top of Chad’s chest.

His eyes rolled into the back of the skull as he was too flustered to make this awkward situation less so.

“Ow,” Chad groaned. “I think I need an ice pack.”

Ichigo unrolled his eyes and subtly snorted at the nonchalant comment. Any longer that his eyes stayed rolled, he might’ve started foaming from the mouth.

“I think you need a bit more than an ice pack. I’ll take you back to my place and my dad can check you out,” Ichigo said, sitting up and smirking.

Then he looked down to see what he pressed down on, and saw his hand on Chad’s chest.

It’s like a huge cushion, was the only thought that went through Ichigo’s head. AH FUCK WAIT MY HAND IS ON CHAD’S FUCKING CHEST!

His hand snapped up and off of his chest, then he awkwardly put it away next to him on the ground, trying to not make it seem like he was disgusted to have been touching Chad.

“Hmm.”

“C’mon, dude. Get up.”

Ichigo hopped to his feet, signaling for Chad to do the same. He slowly got up to his feet, looking down at Ichigo who smirked at him. The smaller boy extended his arm to welcome him to lean on him for support. Chad put his arm around Ichigo’s shoulder and Ichigo put his around Chad’s back. Together, they began limping off to the Kurosaki Clinic.

———

“ICHIGOOOOOOO!” A boisterous voice yelled, followed by a tough elbow jamming right into the side of Ichigo’s temple. The momentum of the hit sent him spinning and flung him face first onto the sidewalk in front of their part home part clinic.

“Um,” Chad said, a few beads of sweat trickling down his face.

“DAD, WHAT THE HELL? AREN’T YOU ON THE JOB? WHAT WOULD YOUR PATIENTS THINK IF THEY SAW YOU HITTING ME LIKE THAT!” Ichigo snapped up, rubbing his head.

“Luckily, it’s no busy day, and the two patients we have right now are faaaaast asleep,” Isshin said, stretching his arms.

“You almost make it sound like you killed ‘em…”

“HOW INSULTING! However, it’s more insulting to see you coming home covered in bruises again!” he glanced at Chad, who watched the squabble, then back at Ichigo. “And you dragged one of your friends into it too!”

“I didn’t drag him— well… maybe I did drag him into it… Huh…”

“See!”

“That’s besides the point—!”

“Ichigo!” A new voice interjected.

Ichigo’s youngest sister peeked out from behind her father, rushing outside.

“Oh no, you got into another fight again! Come inside! You too, Chad!” Yuzu cried, grabbing Ichigo by the wrist and practically dragging him inside. Isshin moved out of the way, letting Chad inside their clinic first before closing the door behind them.

“Oh, Ichigo, you’re still a trouble magnet as always, it seems,” Karin said, reading a magazine off in the corner of the room.

“Wasn’t my fault!” Ichigo hissed as Yuzu placed him down on a patient bed. “They had it coming.”

“You say that everytime,” Karin sighed, not looking up from the magazine.

“Karin, Yuzu, you look after Ichigo’s friend, I’ll deal with Mr. Delinquent himself!” Isshin demanded.

“Hey!”

Isshin grabbed Ichigo by the ear, twisting it violently and making him scream. “You are going to tarnish the name of this clinic if people find out that my only son is a backwards kid who’s only looking for fights!” “I wasn’t looking for it, they asked for it!”

“Mmmmhmmm,” Isshin hummed, full of doubt.

He pulled out some antiseptic and cotton balls from nearby and got to work on cleaning up Ichigo’s wounds. His son hissed from the pain of the chemicals getting into his wounds, wincing in pain when one dab of the antiseptic would burn more.

Ichigo just silently took the pain, glancing over at Karin and Yuzu who were tending to Chad every so often.

“Dad,” Ichigo whispered, yanking on his father’s ear and bringing it close to his mouth. “Can I, uh, deal with Chad’s injuries myself?”

“Hmm?”

“I kinda want to talk to him. Alone,” Ichigo looked behind him to the two unconcious patients. “Well, as alone as it gets.”

Isshin gasped silently, his hands raising to his bearded cheeks. He knew exactly what Ichigo was going after. “My boy is becoming a man…!”

Ichigo hissed as his dad, his face flushing red.

“Yuzu, Karin! Let’s go back into the house and get some snacks. You’ve both been working hard. Let Ichigo take care of Chad, alright?” Isshin said, standing up as he tried to pry his daughters away from their patient.

Karin glared at Ichigo, but the gaze was oddly smug. Ichigo gritted his teeth at her.

He waited until his family was definitely gone before he shuffled over and sat on the edge of Chad’s cot.

“Yo,” Chad said.

“Hey,” Ichigo replied, picking up the materials his sisters left behind and leaned over his friend. “Chad, I-- sorry for getting you into one of these messes again,” Ichigo sighed, continuing the work of cleaning up the bruises on Chad’s cheek.

“It’s no problem,” Chad said. “We promised that we’d have each others backs. I don’t mind taking a couple of hits for you.”

Ichigo brushed back Chad’s hair off of his forehead, allowing him to finally see both of his friend’s eyes at once. It was fun not being able to see either of them, interesting when he could see just either one, but it was different seeing both at the same time. Chad had such a soft gaze, in contrast to Ichigo’s sharp and nearly always judgemental one.

The way Chad looked at him almost made him want to loosen up.

“Ichigo?” “Oops, sorry,” he said. He got up to get a towel and wet it as much as he could to wipe off all the blood off of Chad’s face. Plopping down back onto Chad’s mattress he grazed his forehead. The brown skinned boy winced and closed his eyes. Taking this opportunity of Chad not being able to see him, Ichigo mouthed “Oh my GOD,” to himself as his cheeks got splotched with red.

“Ichigo, you didn’t get your family out of here for no reason, did you?” Chad asked, eyes still closed.

“Huh? Well, yeah you’re right. I just— uh. You know I just wanted to thank you for stickin’ with me. It means a lot.”

“Mm.”

That couldn’t only be what he wanted to say.

“Also! Uh. I never really expected someone like you to hang out with me. At least not for so long. You kind of hit… different compared to other people I know,” he said, starting to slow down on Chad’s face.

Chad opened an eye which made Ichigo flinch and reminded him to get back to working on his wounds.

The redhead looked away for brief moments, trying not to meet Chad in the eyes as his face was so obviously pink.

“I’ve known Tatsuki for like, ever, but I dunno, I don’t think I’m as close to her as I am with you.”

“Really?”

Ichigo sputtered, “Gah! W-w-well yeah! I don’t see her staying with me to beat up losers asses like you! This is more intimate!”

He could see Chad raise an eyebrow from the corner of his eye.

“GAH! Not like intimate-intimate— It’s just an us thing! I don’t think I’d be able to have something like this with anyone else! Not with Keigo, or Mizuiro, or Tatsuki! Just you.”

Chad stared up at Ichigo with no response as the boy started to fumble with some nearby bandages in a container. He gently began to slap some bandaids on Chad’s smaller open wounds.

Silence rung between them and that wrung Ichigo’s heart.

“You actually meant intimate-intimate, didn’t you?” Chad asked flatly.

Ichigo was silent for a bit.

“Yeah…”

Chad chuckled quietly, making Ichigo dig his chin into his chest.

“It’s okay. I like you too, Ichigo. You don’t need to say it.” And you probably never will anyway…

“Gah!”

His flustered response made Chad chuckle again.

“Are we dating now?” Ichigo blurted out, the impulsive question making his eyes roll into the back of his skull harder than before.

“If you want,” Chad shrugged.

“Do you wanna…” Ichigo choked, “seal the deal?”

“Huh?”

“Like we…” he choked out of embarrassment more, really starting to feel the foam gurgle in his throat as he clenched his fists. “Kuh- kuh- kuh- ki- ki…”

It was starting to get painful watching Ichigo like this, so Chad just cut him off before he gave himself a stroke.

“Yes, if you want.”

Ichigo snapped out of his embarrassment stupor and looked down at Chad.

“For real?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re really chill with all of this.”

“I already said I liked you.”

Ichigo whined, his eyebrows wrinkling. “O...kay…”

Ichigo clenched his eyes shut, drawing wrinkles on his forehead from the strain of it as he slowly began to lower himself down. Chad kind of just watched him struggle above him, not sure whether to be confused or to chuckle.

“It's okay, Ichigo. It’s just me.”

The stress in Ichigo’s face let up slightly, but he still kept his eyes screwed shut. He kept slowly leaning down towards Chad’s face, at least where he thought it was. He realized he was aiming off when a hand rested itself on his cheek and slightly angled his head properly.

Extremely embarrassed, he kept leaning until he was startled by the press of his lips against another. Ichigo screamed so loud on the inside of his head that stifled screams could be heard from the depths of his chest. He tensed up when he felt the same hand on his cheek trail up to the nape of his neck, feeling a finger slowly trace where his hair ended.

Shiiiiit! I can’t really be this awkward, can I?

Taking the tiniest leap of faith, he rested his hands on Chad’s cheeks and tilted his own head to the side to lock their lips together a bit better. Ichigo sighed into the kiss as he started to relax into it. He didn't know how to feel, but this experience sure was happening. He thought he was enjoying it, because he sure didn't stop, until—

"Hey, Ichigo, we're back! Are you two—" Yuzu asked, getting cut off by the loudest shriek she'd ever heard come from her brother. It was loud enough to wake up the other two patients in the room.

Ichigo’s hair seemingly spiked up like the fur on a cat’s back as his face turned beet red. He jolted up, nearly flying off of Chad's bed and onto his feet.

"Ichigo, were you just—? " Karin started, grinning.

"NO!"

"Are you sure, because it looked like you were ki—"

"I WASN'T! Just. Cleaning his wounds..."

After his abrupt outburst, he groaned, putting his hand on his head as he began to stumble with his vision beginning to fade. “Shit,” he whined, plummeting to the floor face first.

“ICHIGO!” his family cried, Yuzu shrieking the loudest out of all of them.

“Ichigo?” Chad asked, peering over the side of his cot.

His family crowded around him in a panic, while Chad just watched with concern. He reminisced on how red Ichigo’s face had gotten when his family rushed in. “I guess the blood really went to his head…”

#bleach #bleach fic #chadichi #chad yasutora #ichigo kurosaki #GRAHHHHHHHH (RIPS OFF MY SHIRT) IM GAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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buuttercup · 4 years

Text

My laziness needs to end and this weekend needs to absolutely not happen. I do stupid things when I'm bored. I dangle my carrot in front of anyone I can as if that will make me feel okay. When I speak to anyone about B and I, I say I'm doing better than I am; I don't say we've fucked, obviously, because that's fucking laughable; I say I know I'll be able to find someone better for me, even though I don't think that's true; I say I'm never going back to him, even though I want to every day and every second. Everything I say is the antithesis of what is actually true. And that's fucking typical.

This new guy I've been talking to must find me so cringe, always posting vain photos and videos of myself now. I can't be bothered with what he thinks of me other than his opinions on my appearance but I want to see him again just to see. It's kind of funny how calculated and predictable it all is, my process of trying to heal after a breakup. I reduce myself every time. Feeding off attention from people that do not matter serves no one. Fucking randoms, promising things I can't keep, frivolous spending, painting myself to be more okay than I am. It’s all methodical.

I'm so fake on top of my shit and drowning in responsibilities I'm avoiding, but I don't really know what I'm waiting for? I wake up and run through a list of the things I need to take care of, but I'm still in the mindset I was when I was in 4th grade: convinced I will die at a young age, so why bother? I can't explain why I used to feel this way but I always felt I was meant to die at a young age, almost like I wanted that for myself. An escape to avoid the pain adulthood and wisdom bestows on you.

Myriad relationships with past friends and lovers have been reemerging as of late. I should be gracious of these people reaching out, as it comes from a place of love, but I actually hate it. These people from the past are all reminders of a version of myself that had less fortitude and self respect. That version of myself has admittedly become a victim of the harsh voice I speak to myself in. How stupid could you be? To be convinced that I found my one and only so early in life, right under my nose. I held onto him because I thought his lack of experiences would guarantee his loyalty and devotion. I thought, "I'll show him all that he hasn't seen or felt. I'll make him obsessed with me. I will secure my place in his heart." Naive and reluctant to the idea of him stepping outside of me. I am so tired of feeling not enough and making myself to be this diminutive version of myself that does not exist.

I have nothing to hide... except all the things I have to hide. Such as the shame and degradation I bring onto myself.

My life is sickeningly ironic at this point. Laughably, actually. My roommate has started up with a new boy. It's heart eyes, cuddling, and coffee made by 7am type of love right now. I'm not jealous. I don't want the guy. I'm not bitter about the fact that she keeps comparing her experiences with this guy with me and B. (I miss the ring 'me and B' had to it.) I'm really not. What I have been clinging onto however, are the parallels in her feelings and spoken words about this guy in comparison to my guy. Memories of excitement and lightheartedness can only be recalled as though it was another person living through them. I can't imagine myself boo'd up, laughing, secured... enamored with someone at all. Much less B. It's like, who was that that was living through all that sweetness? The irony lies in me knowing that that sweetness is what I'm holding onto. They are my favorite scenes from my favorite movie that I keep rewinding. Experiences unique to me n B. Although I'm broken, I can't dismiss the love and care B showed me. There’s a reason why I stuck by him for as long as I did, and there's a reason why I was more than happy to for the rest of my life. To make myself ashamed of the love I experienced with this person is wrong of me to do. I won't lie; it does hurt to see her so happy and nonetheless compare my happiness and optimism to what she feels. I promised to myself that I wouldn't project any of my own negativity and cynicism onto her.

This season isn't about he and I. It's about me.

Every moment I spend not working or working out feels like a waste. Even when I’m deep in my most depressing and lonely thoughts, I feel like I should be working out.

I think sick things. I think sick things to convince myself to be okay with what he did or.. the exact opposite.. to convince myself to banish this person from my heart forever. I asked him, when did you do this? Where? Did you show yourself? Either situation feeds into my insidious thoughts. If he showed himself, he shared his beauty and had that connection with someone else. They saw him and he saw them. I try to put myself in his shoes in that moment, I think, "well at east if he showed himself, I know human tendencies and that everyone looks at themselves during most of a video call, right?? At least he was probably looking at his own dick part of the time?? Yeah, at least he wasn't entirely focused on another body during that entire time.." The other option is that he wasn't on cam, and that is was only her. Still shit. To think of him being so primal and lusting for other parts, another body, anther person, kills me. I am too obsessed with the superficial connections he had with other people, but that is only because I feel THAT IS ALL I HAVE TO OFFER! I fooled myself into believing his lack of experience would minimize his hunger for other women, because I assumed he didn't know what else was out there. I assumed he would see me and have me and that that would be enough. We told each other about our past; I was his first serious girlfriend, I thought at the time, so I felt safe in the delusion that I wasn’t competing with memories of someone before me. I ransacked all parts of him in search of safety and fidelity. Nothing I thought about him was true.

And yet, I’m the I am still so hungry for him. He is more than his beautiful exterior; I crave his voice, his comfort, pragmatism, and his warmth. I have never given love an honest go like this. All my time spent with him was always sweet; I never felt blessed in my life, but I felt that way with him. I am convinced I won't ever be able to find what I found in him in anyone else. The narrative that there is only one person made for us is naive and impractical, but I really do feel that way with him. He checks my social media often; I know that. I am scared for the day it all ends because I know that when that day comes, I will not be in the same place. I will still be waiting. Perhaps it's my self cruelty speaking for my whole self, but I honestly believe I will always be waiting for him. I thought I'd be the same way with Leo. I was scary scary obsessed with him. Hastily convinced that this is the person for me; there are still times I think that... but all those fallacies are crowded out the second I think of B. Am I missing being loved or and I missing being loved by this person? How could I have aggrandized someone so small and immature? Who am I even talking about?? All of them.

Hearing of my mother's heartbreak is more painful than listening to my own. I don't think B has any idea of the ripples of pain he's caused around me. When I speak to my mom, I hear the hopeless romantic in her. She is waiting for this guy to prove himself in ways my father never could. She speaks about he and I as if she knows and wants for us to get back together again. She is waiting for a grand gesture, as was I. She is waiting to see if this guy will prove to be different, in ways my father could never be. I think she wants that just for my own sanity, so I don't go off to asume every man will only disappoint me. It's too late for that. Although I already believe that of men, part of me is still holding out for this person. Why was I robbed of my happiness and future experiences with this person??

I get so bitter when I start to think of everything I missed out on with B. Every relationship I see makes me think of what could’ve been. I'm like, that fucker didn't even get to see me dance, get to feel me grind on him while we were out, he didn't get to feel me eat his ass and suck him raw like I wanted, he didn't get to see me actually dolled up in that dress I saved for just him, he didn't get to feel me fully, we didn't get to vacation together, he didn't get to have the full me. Is that why this all happened? I get so angry at all that he didn't get to experience with me, as if it's my own fault that he's not trying as hard as I want him to be. A larger part of myself is convinced that he didn't get to experience these things with me because he didn't deserve to. I am so ready to put myself on display, to serve myself on a platter. The second I am made to be the fool, I carry the blame on my back as if it was my own faults that put us here. I feel this is the only way someone will see me and want me and only me. This will never be true; it's not like I want this to be my narrative, I really think it is though. If I'm not waiting for B to be at my door, I'm waiting for the day to be fully healed; neither seems reachable. Am I feeling this way because he is actually the one that is meant for me or because I've never been betrayed to this degree, and I'm yearning for an absolution? Way beyond the clouds is where I'll find my answer, by the time my head is light and empty enough to float high enough to find these answers, I think it will be too late. Every day, every second I have to fight myself to call him, to tell him to come over, to let him know about his secured spot in my heart. I can’t do that because I know it’s not true. It was not true with Leo, and although I know it’s unfair to compare B with L, both are in the same category; undeserving of me. A part of me wishes I could rush his growth so that it would alleviate some of the shame I might receive from getting back with him but I know that’s selfish. More of me wants the whole process to be rushed because I believe what we had was unique and beautiful and that it was the security that he and I deserved. The idea that he still wants me too makes it all worth it. I will be taken for granted again if that were to happen though. My feelings of heartbreak aren’t unique; I know I have felt this way before, and I might feel this way again.

I feel the ghost of his hand on my waist all the time.

#screwdriver diaries #paletas #i hope he stopped checking my blog tho

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chyrstis · 4 years

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I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I’d like you) 9/10

Fell off of the updating schedule big-time with this one, but better late than never! There’s only one left to go here after this, and if I can motivate myself properly, I’d love to have another ficlet ready by that update to add to this AU too. Until then, let’s get back to the happier side of things.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw x John Seed Rating: E (but only for Ch. 10, the rest are a solid T) Word Count: 3.3K

Link to AO3!

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10

—

Sharky steals a boat. It just happens to be John’s boat, and when it’s damaged along with his boathouse, John proceeds to lay out a means of having Sharky pay him back. [No Cult AU]

———–

Every shovel Sharky owned he threw in the trunk. Packed them all, and didn’t care if they all bumped into each other as he took every corner faster than he should’ve.

That shouldn’t have worked. Hell, that shouldn’t have registered or been anything close to a winning proposition, but he said yes. John picked up, he heard him say yes, and that was all it took for him to throw everything aside for it. To grab Hurk, tell him what's what and go, and he was willing to dive in headfirst just to get an answer. All just to have the chance to put a pin in any of this.

And to see him, but he’d known that for a while now.

The white that covered everything as he pulled up was beautiful. Almost too pretty to mess with, but the wheels of his car drew jagged lines through it, and after getting out he had to hold back on the urge to drop down and see how good of a snow angel he could pull off.

Grabbing one of the shovels, Sharky trudged over to the front door, and stood there. Stared at the doorbell like it was going to jump out at him until he jabbed at it. Then hit it one more time just to make sure it worked.

After that came the waiting. That was what sucked, and after a few seconds of it, he started fumbling for a cigarette. Searching both pockets, however, gave him nothing. Not a loose one, not pocket lint, but he did find some stray matches.

Taking one out, he twisted it between his fingers as he kept on patting himself down, and dropped it when the door opened and he caught John looking out at him.

John, cautious, but hopeful, and that was all he needed for that old feeling to kick in again. The one he’d tried to put out and failed, and he forced himself to do anything to get the ball rolling. Anything, just to keep from staring at John dreamily as he stood there on his doorstep.

Pulling himself up, Sharky grabbed for the shovel and held it out in front of him. Almost like one would a spear, and he cleared his throat.

“Yo, so snow. You got a lot of it here.”

Giving the area behind Sharky a passing glance, John nodded slightly. “It appears to be so.”

“And I know you want that shit out, and fast. Now I’ve got a few ways of doing that. Got the traditional way, the express way, and the uh, Boshaw Barbeque way. Not gonna just limit you to one, I figured you’d want the full set of things to pick from.”

The look of interest in John’s eyes grew. “I remember you mentioning a few over the phone. Any recommendations?”

“Well, namesake’s kinda a no-brainer. ‘Cause usually that means I can go a round or two outside with my flamethrower. Torch the shit out of it and clear it out without thinking too much.” Stopping to rub at his neck as he thought it over, he made a face. “Think that might be the express way too.”

“So, two out of the three ways involve…fire?”

“Uh, yeah. Kinda my go-to for most things, but I figured you might wanna limit that.”

John’s reply came fast, “Agreed.”

“But the others are still open. If you change your mind, I’ve got her loaded up back there. Takes nothing to just whip it out on a second’s notice, and get the job done. But ol’ faithful it is. Just shoveling that shit, and shoveling it well. And I could probably dig up a few testimonials for that too, if you wanna go through them first.”

John raised a hand to rub at his lips, considering him as he stood there. “No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary. As entertaining as I’m sure that would be, your word will do just fine.”

“So,” setting the shovel down, Sharky cleared his throat, “ready to work with Boshaw and er…well, it’s just one Boshaw, but I like the idea of having a name for it. Makes it sound all official, ‘cause it’s coming together. Just slowly.”

“You do have name recognition on your side right now. Or would that be more notoriety?”

“Hey, being known for something’s not all bad. Being known for the kind of thing that you’ll be using? Guarantees you’ll make it work. And here? Still offering up a service, and fire or not it’s getting done. So, fuck it. Tell me where to start, and I’ll get right on that.”

Barely hiding a smile behind his hand, John gestured indoors, “Let me get my coat.”

---

This was going well. The kind of well that had him hoping there wasn’t something awful waiting just behind the scenes to strike, because his hopes were at an all-time high, and Sharky wasn’t ready to let them crash back down to earth.

John took another shovel, with the reasoning behind it being that one man couldn’t possibly put a dent into any of this alone. Not quickly. It was his fault for having a fucking mansion for starters, but the minute he started chipping in, Sharky couldn’t quite keep the grin off of his face.

“More snow’s coming in tonight,” John said, not breathing hard yet, but each one left his mouth in a white puff. “Not heavy, but enough to make it a problem.”

“See, we could get all of this taken care of in a night, but I know my method’s off the table. Just offering that again, in case you’re looking for something quick and easy.”

“And I appreciate the offer, but I fail to see how that would make it easier.”

“Just point, work the trigger a little to see how you like it, then gently sweep the stream back and forth.”

Making the motion with his hands, he rocked back and forth, putting his hips into it too, and only stopped when he noticed the wry way John was looking at him.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. That shit works wonders when you’ve got twenty feet of snow and only one buckaroo around to move it all.”

John set his hands on top of the shovel. “Namely yourself.”

“Yeah, though Hurk’s had my back ever since we were little. He’s been there for me for anything and everything, and if I asked right now he’d be at my house in ten with a sled and a spare shovel. Course we’d skid down any slopes first, ‘cause an opportunity like that you just don’t pass up, but after he’d throw in with me to cart that shit out. No complaining, or fussing, or nothing. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better. Just sucks he’s out of town often as he is. Seen some real strange shit too, going off of what he’s brought up.”

“Well, maybe you won’t have to handle it alone next time.”

Sharky paused mid-shovel. “Say what?”

“You could…ask.”

“Ask you?”

John tilted his head to the side, glancing down briefly before making eye contact again. “I understand I’m not going to bring a lot of firepower to it, but it’s another set of hands.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah," he said, shaking off the surprise that had set in. "Having two heads and four sets of hands to use? It sure would be. Maybe clear all that snow up before that tingly sensation kicks in, you know that kind where you lose the feeling in your fingers? What a thing that’d be." And the idea of it was more than enough to put a broad smile on his face. "Thanks, man.”

John waved him off, but let his attention linger on him even after going back to shoveling. That might’ve made Sharky put his back into it a little more, when he wasn’t trying to look over at him himself.

Pink started to tint John’s face, mainly his cheeks, which reminded him of one of those old Christmas figurines he had a bad habit of knocking over at his grandma’s. Rosy-cheeked, probably ghost-touched, going off of some of their weirder bumps in the night that happened during the holidays, but still smiling and happy. John wasn’t smiling directly, but every time their eyes met, he caught something there. Not even one of those ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ type moments, but there. It made that warm feeling run through his chest again, and Sharky felt his mouth moving before he could stop it.

“You know, uh…you can come by again. Anytime. Just to shoot the shit, hang, dodge Broseph or Jake if they’re getting at you. Or hell, bring ‘em. We can all rock the firepit, I’ll set up some music, and we can just chill.”

Sharky cleared his throat, focused right on the pile of snow that kept on growing, and kept on talking.

“Or we could hop in Hurk’s truck, go do some ice fishing, but by giving it the ol’ Shurky one-two fer. You know, ‘cause Hurkie and I came up with it, and if we wanna trademark that it’d take a while, but you’re a lawyer. We could all sit down, you slap on a suit and crack open that briefcase of yours, and set us up while you’re throwing around all of that shit they say on Law and Order, and…oh, fuck.”

He stopped and crunched enough numbers to sweat.

“That whole talking bit’s got a price tag too, huh? Shit, think you could uh, swing a bit of a first time customer satisfaction guaranteed deal for-“

He turned as John reached his side, and yelped as he yanked him forward by the front of his coat. Kissed him in full, his lips cold, but his breath warm. So warm, and so much closer than he had been not even a minute before.

The shovel hit the snow, falling right out of his hands. Trying not to trip over it, Sharky moved forward, grabbing for him as John slid a hand up behind his head. Kissed him back. Just like he’d wanted to weeks back. Days back. Today, soon after seeing him at his front door. Like he could right now, even as words kept on trying to bubble up and spill out.

But he was here. John was on him, kissing him, moaning into his mouth, and he couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it even as it was happening.

Breaking away, Sharky pulled back. Blinked and held his eyes shut for a few seconds just to see if he could ground himself. But John was still there when he opened them. Still there, still holding onto him, and nearly pinched himself just to be sure.

Sharky laughed. “Fuck, man. You just…you like throwing me off balance, don’t you?”

“Me? That’s you. Has been you from the very first day I met you,” John said, stroking his cheek. “Officially, at least. This fool that thought it’d be a fine idea to borrow a boat - while intoxicated at that - and trusted he would be able to return it.”

“Hey, I only failed step four. Nearly had profit too, but…uh, yeah.” Leaning into John’s touch, Sharky let his eyes fall shut. “Better that I didn’t. Hindsight being twenty-forty and all that.”

“Twenty-twenty.”

“Whatever. But-“ But why? The thought crept in, and his smile grew brittle. “You change your mind, or…?”

John’s eyebrows drew together. “About what?”

“You didn’t… I didn’t think you-“

A shaky breath slipped out, and Sharky couldn’t help it. Took two steps back to get some distance between them.

“I’d run through this before. Thought this shit over, and you weren’t interested. And that’s cool, not everyone is. Shit, I didn’t even think I was until it fucking laid me out. ‘Cause when I said I liked you, I liked you. Like, enough to put up with damn near anything just to get a few more minutes with you.”

John let out a breath, and pressed a hand to his eyes. Murmured something softly to himself that Sharky couldn’t quite catch, only for John to repeat it soon after. “It wasn’t you.”

“Wasn’t what?”

“‘You’ that made a mistake. I did. And letting you think that for as long as I did wasn’t fair. Not to you.”

When he lowered his hand, Sharky didn’t need to guess the expression crossing John for once. Regret came through clear as day.

“I don’t have friends. For a long time it wasn’t wise to, and the ones that I did make quickly showed me it was only for what they could get out of me. What they could take. Others took it further than that, and…I did the same in turn. Took people that I could’ve grown close to, and trusted, and used them instead. Ruined what could’ve been something wonderful. Something to cherish, and hold on to.”

John pursed his lips together, and gave him a rueful look.

“I knew what this was building towards. Ignored it. Then let myself want it. Where was the harm? But there’s always a catch to wanting. Wanting something, or someone. Was I doing it again? Being selfish? Taking that, twisting it just enough to make it into something that would harm more than help?”

Searching his eyes, John started reaching for him before drawing his hand back to his chest.

“But did you even want me? As a friend or anything else? I thought I saw the first there, and gave little thought before trying to see what was beyond that.”

“Like, I kissed you,” Sharky said, frowning slightly. “That’s…that wasn’t crossing any wires there.”

“But I put you in that position. When we stopped-”

“John, I was full on set to keep on going, man. Like, I wanted it. Thought you’d stopped, realized what the fuck was going on and decided to slam on the brakes once you’d got some sense back. And sure, I needed to cool it and think it over, but that was just…” Sharky paused, and drew in a deep breath, “just to come to realize how much I liked being around you. Okay, getting hit with the whole ‘shit, guess I’m bi too’ bit didn’t hurt, but I wanted to be there. Wanted to finish all of this, and maybe see where it’d go after that. And you, uh…”

“I came home. I told you we were done, and forced you off of my property.”

“Yeah,” Sharky replied, looking away. “Yeah, it pretty much went like that.”

“It was…I thought I was making a wise choice. To put that distance back where it should’ve been the entire time, because I was making the same mistakes all over again. And I didn’t trust myself with that. Or you.”

“And I wanna respect that. You’ve gotta do right by you, and you didn’t wanna fuck me up, but…maybe it’s not always gonna lead straight to a bad end, you know?” John kept his eyes on Sharky as he took a few steps closer, on edge, but not backing away from him, and Sharky continued, “I mean, I’ve heard you like having me around. Is that right?”

That, John didn’t hesitate to answer. “I do.”

It brought a smile out, and Sharky didn’t hide it. “Already told you how I feel. Unless…you want me to go over that a little again. Break it down some more.”

John raised his chin. “I might.”

“Okay, let’s see,” Sharky said, rubbing his hands together. “I like you. Like hanging with you, and shooting the shit. Like working on your plane. Car’s also good, and I like looking at you, though uh, that’s not the sentimental kind of thing we’re going for right now.”

John chuckled, “No, not quite.”

“But it was nice being here. Being wanted. Knowing you wanted me here at all, even if it was only to fix shit up at first. And to get sprayed the hell out of, but that was a bad moment. Got the drop on me, and I wasn’t super slick when it came to getting out of it. But I handled it, and later on, I had some other cool moments.”

“True. We can’t forget that.”

“And I uh, mentioned the talking, right?”

“You did, but as nice as that was, maybe I liked looking at you too.”

Sharky blushed, laughing at it only to grow quiet when John stepped closer. Almost enough to cross back into his space, and felt his breath catch.

“Just like right now.”

“Well, uh, shit,” Sharky sputtered, as John ran a hand up the front of his coat, right along the zipper. He toyed with that enough for Sharky to drop his eyes only to park them right on John’s lips, “Um. That right?”

“Yes, I believe so. But if you need any convincing, I could go into more detail.” The look John wore now he’d have to be blasted beyond all comprehension to deny. “Break it down some more.”

“You talking a lot? Or like-”

John tugged him close enough to share a few directly with him, breath all too hot against his ear as he did so. Outlining everything in the kind of painstaking detail he’d come to expect. But this wasn’t history, flying, or anything having to deal with the nuts, bolts, or screws of the boathouse.

This was all about him. The subject of choice, and the thing that kept John pressed right up against him. What he’d noticed. What he’d liked. Painting just the kind of picture Sharky would’ve been all too glad to slot into, especially if it kept John at his ear like this. Whispering the kind of things he’d never thought he’d ever hear him say.

“…Fuck me running, man. You ain’t messing around any.”

“It pays to be thorough.” John’s lips grazed him, brushing his earlobe as he stayed close, and every breath coming out of him made him want to curl in closer. “To never overlook a single detail, no matter how small, or insignificant it might seem.“

Swallowing thickly, Sharky rasped, “Speaking of details, I might’ve missed one last thing here. Really meant to bring it up.”

“What?”

“The whole kissing part.” Leaning back to look at him, their noses brushed together as he didn’t quite escape John’s orbit. Stayed well within range as he hovered closer and closer by the second. “Liked that a whole hell of a lot too.”

Kissing him this time wasn’t a problem. No, it was all too easy as he wrapped his arms around John, and held him as close as possible.

John’s fingers ran through his hair, knocking his winter cap off onto the snow, and he shivered. More from the cold than the gesture, but John seemed set on giving it a run for its money anyway. He didn’t pull, just tugged him closer as he deepened the kiss, dragging a moan right up and out of Sharky’s throat in record time. He also seemed set on finding a way to slip his hands under Sharky’s coat, and he barely held off from giving John added access. ‘Cause stripping was totally cool. Stripping outside in this weather was a dumbass stunt, and he held off.

Soon though, John broke the kiss to whisper something into his ear. Distracted by the feeling of his lips on his neck, Sharky leaned into him, and felt him laugh as he repeated what he’d initially said.

“Much as I like this,” John said, his breath warm against him, “standing out here with you, I think it’d be a lot more pleasant inside. Where it’s warmer for one, and maybe we can also find a few other means of keeping it that way. Do you agree?”

Sharky swallowed hard at the suggestion, nervous, but eager. “Yeah, let’s…let’s do it.”

Grabbing John’s hand, he squeezed it tight. And when he felt himself being guided towards the house, he stayed close behind.

#far cry 5 #sharky boshaw #john seed #john seed/sharky boshaw #now to agonize over series names #which I might've been low-key doing over the last couple of weeks #b/c the ideas for this really aren't slowing down or stopping #FC5 fanfiction #fanfiction #fic: I won't ask for much #fic series: we could make a home out of this

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daviddobrikisabitch-blog · 5 years

Text

Patience / David Dobrik Smut

warning: this is rated R. real icky stuff, pals. adults only!!! pff

summary: the main character’s boyfriend is David Dobrik and they’re in love n stuff. it’s fun

word count: 4,020

enjoy!!! <3

Patience is a lovely virtue. What a wonderful, gratifying, ethical thing to practice. Yes, I'm sure that knowing the ethics and the merit of this manner is probably all well and good enough to make a lot of people find it within themselves to just generally suck it up and friggin' wait for things; however, this is a method that I definitely have yet to master. In fact, I'm quite certain that I am going to need a lot more practice. I am just so fucking bad at handling anticipation. Sometimes I find the grip of apprehension to be so unbearably tight that I just give way to the tension and collapse under the pressure. It's around 1a.m. when I have exhausted all the apps on my phone, and I decide that I don't want to be alone in this big, lonely bed anymore. It's actually only been about 20 minutes since I came in here, but it feels like it's been a lot longer. Perhaps that's because I am finding it very difficult to stop thinking about that boy who is in the other room, just a short journey away from me. He is just as alone as I am right now, and I am almost certain that he must be thinking about me too. The thought of him is definitely a very hard thought to ignore, especially when it is so dang easy to just go walk out and see him. Nothing is holding me back. I get out of bed and quietly tiptoe my way into the living room. And there he is - David Dobrik. The love of my life. Still laying there on the couch in his favourite position; the same position that he had been in when I had announced that I was heading to bed less than half an hour ago. His legs are stretched out across the cushions in front of him, his head is propped up with a pillow behind his neck, and his laptop is resting on his chest. He must be comfy, but I'm pretty sure that this scrunched up way he always lays when he edits is really bad for his back. But he gets annoyed when I remind him of this, and at this point I've learned to just keep it to myself. I don't have the best posture either. Maybe he hasn't noticed that I'm standing here yet. Perhaps he is far too immersed in his work; his laptop speakers are blasting choppy bits and pieces of noise, various voices, music, and loud laughter, and his fingers are clicking and swiping away at the mousepad, organizing all of the clips and sounds to fit that finished puzzle he has in his vision. His brown hair is a dishevelled, fluffy mess, and his brow is furled as he concentrates on the screen in front of him. I love the way that he looks when he's focused. When he's creating that thing that invigorates him and lights the fire his under his ass. I can practically see that blazing ball of passion glowing brightly behind his eyes as he works. It's so strong; so much so that it's as though I can actually feel it energizing the air around him and flowing all throughout the room. It cascades over me and lingers on my skin, sending excited chills up my spine; this fire he kindles has long since ignited a bright spark somewhere deep inside of me. I've felt these torrid flames for some time now, and they only seem to be growing more and more radiant as each moment with him passes. I'm in love with that great intensity that lives inside of David's heart. I love to be around it; I love feeling it. It is fucking intoxicating. I would blissfully soak in it forever if I could; but ironically, that blazing motivation that he possesses makes him a little bit unavailable at times... I softly and slowly start to move closer to the couch; closer to David. I'm trying to be as dainty with my movements as possible; a part of me is hoping that he won't notice me. I'm having an internal debate about whether or not I should try and scare him, but my heart really doesn't want to disrupt him like that when he is clearly so in the zone (even though the prick has absolutely no problem scaring the absolute shit out of me and everyone else he loves). The soft spot I've grown for him can perhaps be a little bit too soft sometimes. I'm right next to him now, but I've decided not to scare him. I'm just standing here trying to figure out how to gently announce myself without giving him a start, but before I can think of it he is already looking at me. He doesn't really jump at all, but his eyebrows raise in a surprised fashion. "Fuck! When did you get there? You creep, Jesus Christ." A flush of warmth washes over me. Awe. Shit. I missed his voice. It sounds so tender and homey to me. Even though his words are calling me a creep... every sound still manages to flutter my heart. I grin at him. "You should really work on those peripherals, bud. If I was an assassin sent here to kill you I bet I could have easily just taken you out." He rolls his eyes at me, but he's smiling. I continue. "Dave, seriously, one swift lunge at you and I'd have my arm right around your neck and then just fuckin'-" I make a menacing *crack* sound. He's just smirking at me. It's that smirk that he does; the annoyingly sexy one. He knows that if I let go of my composure for too long, that captivating smirk has the potential of making me a blushy, flustered fawn of a woman; I'd become putty in those (probably already sweaty) palms of his. But now, I keep myself firm and I squeeze onto that composure as tightly as I can. No way am I going to give him the upper hand here, as he always seems to manage to have. I'm feeling powerful tonight. "Oh, yeah? How are you gonna manage that with those noodle arms?" He mocks me. I scoff at his honesty and pretend to be offended for a moment. But, I cave. My arms are, in fact, quite noodly. "Fine, okay, fair enough. But ... You fucking love pasta." He makes a deep humming sound and pauses for a moment. I can sense that he is beginning to fully take in my presence. His eyes are moving down my body, and although he is good at keeping his gaze languid and lazy, I can feel his flames turn that special shade that they only become when he's around me. He likes to play coy and act like I don't have the effect on him that I do; he likes to be in control. Or, he likes to seem in control. But, I know that underneath all that strongly painted bravado, David actually loves the submissive way that I can make him feel. In his life of constant domination and authority, he fucking craves it. While it's quiet, I sit down on the couch in front of him, placing myself right over his stretched out legs. He exhales audibly (do I sense a hint of frustration?) and he turns his eyes back to his laptop screen. "Honestly, baby, I knew you were there the whole time," he smugly informs me. The ghost of that fucking smirk is still lingering over his lips. "I just wanted you to give you a bit of hope... You know you can't sneak up on me." I giggle a little bit. "Right, of course, David. Of course you knew the whole time. Because that means that, technically... You were the one sneaking up on me... Right? Because you were being the sneaky one in choosing not to notice my sneakiness." "Uh, not "your sneakiness". Your attempted and failed sneakiness," he cockily corrects me. "And yeah, it's funny how I always win no matter what, huh?" This was all apart of his act. He knows full well that when we're together, we both always win no matter what. He just likes to tease me, and he knows that I fucking love it. He knows that I can tease him back just as indomitably. "When you win, I win. We're on the same team, baby. I'm rooting for you." This makes him make eye contact with me again for a moment, and we share a deep, knowing gaze; I feel a pang of heat inside of me and it's as if I can actually see that pang glow behind his eyes. He's blushing. Yes, he can play "manly" and domineering all he wants, but it's obvious how he really feels; I can make him just as flustered as he makes me. "I'm happy to have your noods on my team," he cracks. I laugh and then I lift my arms up into a flex. "What, these sexy things?" Raising my arms makes my pink, cropped "CLICKBAIT" hoodie lift up and reveal a hint of my breasts, and David definitely notices. How could he not? I've got nothing else on but these tight, hip-hugging, matching pink shorts. I am definitely creating a view that David could really get (all up) into, but it's clear that he wants to hold back his passion for me right now. It's already a few hours into Saturday and people are expecting a new video. David is not one to enjoy letting people (or himself) down. So, he keeps a hold on his composure, while I let my hands fall down onto his legs. "I guess I understand why you're happy..." I say as I let my fingertips lightly drag up his plaid pajama bottoms. He has a boner. He does that a lot. The connection we share can have him hard as a rock within seconds of even the smallest notion of something sexual between us. I absolutely love it, but he can find it quite annoying at times. "Okay, seriously, baby... Please stop... Please," he begs, and as he says this I notice his cock stir. Ironically, it really turns both of us on when one of us tries to deny our obvious, intense sexual tension. There is really no hiding it; this feeling is powerful as fuck. "I told you I was coming to bed soon, just please wait until I'm finished." I move my hands away from him and I sigh and pout. He's trying not to look at me, but I see him make a couple glances. Of course, he's still smirking a slight bit. Often when he acts like he's pushing away our sexuality, he's really hoping that I keep trying to convince him. And I always do. "The vlog isn't gonna suck your cock, Dave." He lets out a loud laugh and covers his flushed face with his hand. "Baby, fuck off, I'm serious! Shut your pretty little mouth." I'm blushing now. "Shut my pretty little mouth where? Around that hard cock you've got there?" He chuckles darkly and looks right at me, his eyes fervent. "You better stop," he sternly tells me. I see right through it. "What if I don't?" I taunt. He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head. "You better stop." He managed an air of authority there that made my pussy pulse a little bit. What can I say: I love it when he tells me what to do. And I love seeing what he does when I don't do what he says even more... "Okay, fine." I move off of his legs and crawl a few feet over to the other side of the couch. He huffs and goes back to editing, trying his hardest not to pay attention to me. I'm facing him, mirroring his position, watching him work again. He's much more unhinged than he'd been earlier; he's having trouble breathing normally and there is a vein bulging on his neck. His face is still red, and I'm certain that his palms must be very sweaty by now. I gradually move my stare down the curves of his neck, down his t-shirt covered chest and stomach... his cock is still hard. I can see the outline of it bulging through the thin fabric of his pajamas. That thick, beautiful cock that I've come to love so much. I'm finding it hard not to stare... not to trace along the imprint with my heated gaze; not to notice how tense my surely soaked pussy has been feeling and how that feeling is building with every passing second... and I can tell that he's finding it hard not to think about this as well, because as I'm letting these naughty thoughts pass through my head, the blush on his cheeks deepens. I can't help it. I'm picturing him naked; I'm thinking about what that lovely cock looks like beneath that fabric. I'm thinking about how hard I've made him, and about how firm he would feel if my hand was wrapped around his shaft. I love that look he gets on his face when I push my tongue out of my mouth and I slowly lean in, my eyes watching his carefully as I finally let the soft, warm wetness touch the smooth head of his cock... he tends to make sounds as well. Little, gaspy types of sounds. Sometimes they're almost accusatory as if he's scolding me for being such a cock-sucking little slut. But, he's never really scolding me... he feels blessed to have such an absolute thot be so madly in love with him. I'm breathing heavily now, and I keep sighing exasperatedly. Fantasizing about David is a dangerous game to play... it's often too much for me to handle; my pussy practically starts screaming. And I know that he can hear it... even though he's acting like he can't. He can't hide his true feelings with me; I know how badly he wants to just toss his laptop aside and come clamber on top of me. And knowing how badly he wants it, but watching him pretend like he doesn't... it only turns me on even more. I'm thinking about his fingers now... swiping away on that mousepad. It's wild to me how he can use that laptop pad to edit and not have to use a regular mouse... it (like most things he does) can make my pussy go nuts. Thinking about his fingertip swiftly gliding back and forth across that smooth surface, occasionally pressing it inward... this can definitely become an overwhelming thought. As I let myself fall further into my imagination, I bring my hands toward my body and I start to graze my own fingertips along my bare thighs. I tickle them for a few moments, listening to the sounds of David editing and watching the intensity on his face; bringing my gaze lower and admiring his jawline; even lower to watch the way the delicate parts of his neck move as he swallows and tenses up. Basking in the heat I'm feeling, I gradually move my hands upward to brush over my exposed stomach; very lightly, and tantalizingly slow. I revel in the sensations and the excitement as I come into a decision that has me giddy with foretaste. I get into a better position, getting comfy against a pillow behind me and then I spread open my legs as wide as I can. My one leg gets pushed against the back of the couch, and my other foot is placed over on the floor. My movement catches a glance from David, and then he does a well-deserved doubletake, his eyebrows shooting up. "What the fuck are you doing?" He asks, but I'm pretty sure he knows what I'm doing. I can tell that he's trying to act shocked and agitated, but he just can't seem to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up. "I'm getting comfy," I say matter-of-factly. And then I pull my sweater up over my breasts. He fully grins at me. "You fucking slut..." he's watching me intently, a madcap look behind his eyes. He's already slightly moving his laptop to the side. I giggle and I bring my hands up to start massaging my boobs for his viewing pleasure. "Your fucking slut," I correct him. "Oh, fuck you," he says hoarsely before biting his lip. His brows furl as he watches me pinch and tug at my nipples. "Oh, fuck me? Please?" I lower my right hand between my legs and I run it's fingertips across the inside of my thigh, slowly leading them over to my fabric-covered pussy. The tension has me already grinding my hips back and forth against my shorts, in desperate need of friction. David makes a noise that falls between a huff and a groan, and he puts his laptop on the floor. "You're just my fucking desperate, sexy, little slut, aren't you?" He makes a move to come towards me, but I have other plans. "Stop." He stops. "You stay over there." He makes a face - slightly dismayed, but clearly elated and excited to see what happens next. He gets comfy on the other side of the couch. "You make me stop working and now you won't even let me touch you?" "Hey, I didn't make you do anything, Dave. You're the one that put down the laptop." I brush my fingers over my clit and a rush of thrill runs through me. It makes my eyes close and my lips part involuntarily, and I make a small sound. "You bitch," he says, his tone low and kind of whiney. I giggle again, and I rub myself in circles over my shorts, opening my eyes and looking right at him as I start to immerse myself in the pleasure. He stares back at me, slowly shaking his head with his eyes narrowed. "Does that feel good, you fucking tease?" I immediately start nodding and bite my lip as I moan a little bit. We're both blushing profusely. He's breathing almost just as heavily as I am, and he can't seem to sit still. He keeps switching his gaze between my eyes and my hand, and every time we make eye contact there is a hitch in both of our breath. I moan again and he is looking more and more desperate by the second. He keeps fidgeting; grabbing at his pants, touching his neck, running a hand roughly through his hair... And when I bring my legs together for a moment so that I can tug off my shorts (reveal that I am not wearing any panties) and toss them at his face with a giggle, he huffs yet another time and slumps himself into the couch, letting his arms fall limp at his sides and staring at me as I spread my legs for him again. I do it slowly because the suspense is always important. He gazes at my exposed pussy as if it's the holy grail. "Baby..." he says quietly, letting the word drag out a bit. I smile and nod. "Yep-" I use both hands to open and expose myself even deeper. "That's where it would come out of." His wide grin is always priceless. He speaks, and his tone is downright giddy. "That's where 'it' would cum into..." I let out a "ha ha" at his pun, my eyes lingering on his as I start tracing my fingertips around my pussy. Not on my pussy... Not yet. Like I said: suspense is important. I'm tickling the delicate skin all around it, looking at David's reaction intently. He licks his lips and I watch as he brings his hand over his fabric-covered cock. He squeezes it, and as he does my pussy tightens, knowing he's about to retaliate. "Look what you've done..." he scolds me. "Look how hard I am, baby." He squeezes it again, and then he pulls it out of his pants. My eyes widen, as they do every time I see that beautiful thing. What a perfect cock. Literally the perfect cock for me. I trace the curves of it with my eyes as I trace the curves of my pussy with my fingertips. David wraps his palm around his shaft. "You've started a war," he says as he slowly starts to rub himself. I grin and bite my lip. "Yeah, well, I'm pretty confident in my army..." I run my pointer finger right down the middle of my pussy and my lips part with a small sigh. David groans. "Yeah, your fuckin... Your noodle army." Leave it to David to make me full out belly laugh while my fingers are on my vagina. "Both noodle armies." I wave at him with both arms and then my left-hand finds one of my breasts and my right-hand goes back downtown. I tug at my nipple as I finally let my finger slip inside of me. Gently, though. Just a little dip and swirl. David goes nuts at even the slightest touch. I can see the sweat dripping down his glistening forehead. What are you thinking about, huh, baby?" He asks me. I bite my bottom lip again and I crack a half-smirk. "I'm thinking about you watching me..." I tell him. And it's true. The thought of him watching me in this kind of state is almost too much for me to handle. I have to keep teasing myself so that I don't cum too fast and ruin the show. It's clear that David loves to hear that I think about him when I masturbate. The head of his cock is getting to be a strained, purplish colour, and the look on his face is priceless. I pump two fingers inside of me, and he sighs. "You're a goddess," he says, matter-of-factly. I purse my lips and shrug my shoulders. "Who, me? No, no... just a noodle." I slip my fingers out of myself and place them on the clit, rubbing in circles ever so softly. David speeds up his own assault on his cock. "I'm a hard noodle." The strained look on his face... his eyes strained closed; his lips pursed in a light-hearted grimace. I can't help but giggle at him again. He's so cute and hilarious, especially when he's all horny and needy. I want to get on top of him so badly. "We both love pasta," I whisper with a giddy grin. I can hardly take what I'm doing seriously with all this silliness that's going on. "You're making it hard to be sexy," I say. He goes, "Ha!" "I can promise you, baby. I'm definitely hard and you're definitely sexy." "You're sexy, too," I assure him. And he is, oh wow. I don't even know how to describe the intense feeling I get when I look at this boy; when I think about this boy. This passion... It could set the world on fire. The urges are astronomical. David starts to shake his head. "What are we doing right now?" He asks. "Why are you not on top of me?" I smile. "We're seeing who's gonna crack first." "Oh, it's gonna be you," he informs me. "You make me lose focus and stop editing, you get the heck over here." I smile wider and shake my head. "No. You thought editing is more important than giving the love of your life attention and now you realize how silly that is. Now, you come over here." We both pause and contently watch each other in silence. We're both still touching ourselves, but only lightly. We're mostly just admiring each other; neither of us is really waiting for the other to come over. We're just content in the soft stillness right now, admiring the beauty of one another. There's no need for a fuss or a big desperate commotion. We are happy.

#david dobrik #david dobrik smut #david dobrik imagine #david imagine #david smut #david dobrik imagines #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik fanfiction #david dobrik fanfic #smut

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candygirl101x · 5 years

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Romance MD: Always on Call Munechika Takado Review (if you can really call it that)

Honestly I wasn’t expecting to write a review on this, because; 1. I wasn’t the slightest bit interested in the newest release. 2. And secondly…well I don’t write reviews.

But I haven’t seen that much noise about this title yet; whether that’s due to the lack of interest, the lengthy time it takes to read this whole story, the frustrating amount of hearts (A.K.A your hard earned dollar) you have to spend to achieve a SHE, or perhaps all of the above.

When I saw advertisements for Love 365’s latest release, I honestly didn’t give a damn. Oh joy, another Love Choice title (which by the way everyone asked for…not), the same old character types (I felt like Voltage should’ve changed their name to ‘Oresama’s R Us’) and I didn’t take a liking to any of the character’s physical looks either (except Kasumi, what a babe.)

So when Romance MD was finally released I wasn’t rushing to read it. Lately I’ve been more preoccupied reading another otome (Mr Love Queen’s Choice, if anyone is interested) rather than any releases on Love 365 as it just isn’t giving me that enticing story that I’d throw away life’s commitments in an instant to read. After reading Takado’s story, I only wish that I’d stop judging a book by it’s cover (although I know I definitely won’t).

I found myself reading through the story mostly because it was free (we already know the debate on that one, in the end I think I spent £14) and because I was bored. However, it wasn’t long before I found myself being sucked into the story and just thoroughly enjoying the interactions between the characters.

The MC

I could describe the MC as a breath of fresh air, I could describe her as a complete car crash but I feel as though a more accurate description is Marmite. For those of you who don’t know (probably anyone outside of the UK), Marmite is a food spread that people have on toast/sandwiches etc. The debate is that there are thousands of people who love Marmite more than their firstborn child but on the other hand there’s equally as many people who think Marmite is the work of Satan himself, and would find their dog’s faeces more appetising. So I can’t help but feel like you’ll love her for being new, exciting and different…or you’ll hate her because she’s extremely arrogant, a know-it-all and just plain annoying.

Reasons to love the MC:

She’s clever, like really clever. I have no idea what half those words mean that come out of her mouth but this girl knows her shit.

She’s determined and persistent. I mean, I guess all MC’s are when I think about it but it’s generally a good trait to have. The MC doesn’t let Takado out of her sight for a second, even using her skills of being on the track team in highschool to sprint after him when he tries to run away which is highly hilarious. Although can you imagine an MC who isn’t persistent? We’d have no story. Kind of funny thinking about that actually, an MC who just says “Right! I’ve had enough of you abusing me, I’m off home to eat ice cream and watch Netflix. You continue cutting people’s legs off willy nilly like they can grow back.”

She’s relatable. I can’t stress this one enough. Yeah maybe not the medical textbook mumbo jumbo but the social awkwardness and the constant daydreams of Sekai (her otome boyfriend) is something many of us can understand.

She’s not a sheep. This girl has a mind of her own. I take my hat off to her for going up against her superior’s when she thinks something is wrong, I don’t have that kind of backbone.

Reasons to hate the MC:

She can be plain rude. Like I can praise the girl for sticking up for herself but sometimes she’s a little too tart-tongued for my liking. I did cringe a bit, wishing she’d dial things back from time to time.

Missing some classic MC traits, comes across as arrogant. I mean, I guess this one is personal preference. I do like the more outgoing MC who isn’t afraid to speak her mind, but surely it’s natural to not be so arrogant in front of doctors who have years of experience on you? Like the MC is 26, I’m pretty sure all of the guys are 30+ (pretty sure Takado is 35) and have been doctors for a longer time than the MC has even been training to be a doctor. I did find myself missing the humble, kind hearted MC a bit. You really don’t have to be arrogant to be a strong willed woman, my favourite MC is the MC from Our Private Homeroom, I felt like she had a good mix of all the traits.

Can be annoying. Like there’s a time and place to be talking about the topic you’re currently spouting on about MC, and now definitely isn’t the correct time/place.

I was honestly saying the same thing to myself Tak

Takado

Takado himself is not necessarily anything we haven’t seen before. He’s not hiding anything you probably haven’t already guessed. Him and the MC have frequent domestics (which 9 times out of 10 end in her being hit over the head with a file) in places they should definitely not be having domestics, which in itself provides a series of highly entertaining scenes, for not only us but also the rest of the ICU doctors. He doesn’t baby the MC, he tells her when she’s done messed up but does also show signs of kindness behind his stoney façade, especially more towards the end of the story. I also appreciated that his backstory was more than meets the eye, there’s nothing I find more boring than a predictable plot line. Generally, I found him likeable. In fact, more often than not I felt sorry for him for having to put up with the absolute garbage that drops out of the MC’s mouth. I dunno how the hell he ended up falling in love with her too, I’d run a mile if that was me. But then again I did pay £14 for him, so if he didn’t I’d be god damn pissed.

He is equally (actually even more so) as intelligent as the MC, without bragging about how much he knows which was rather refreshing. I mean he does call the MC a thousand different variants of the word stupid, but every single time was justified in my eyes.

Although one thing I must say...

God damn son.

Stuff to Note

One thing I need to comment is holy smokes, how long is this story? When I saw the looming 30 chapters I figured that they were probably going to be over faster than my money leaves my account on payday, but boy how wrong I was. Now this almost certainly is a money grab in order to get you to spend more hearts to get the “good choices” but despite that, I was really impressed with just how long the story took me to read. Maybe I’m just getting old, but usually on any main story I can bash it out in under 2 hours. With this, I actually had to stop myself from reading and go the hell to sleep because it was 4 in the morning. When I checked the next day to what chapter I was on, I thought I was tripping when I realised I’d only just made it halfway through the story. Voltage kudos to you. The story was the perfect length to have good plot pacing, decent character development and satisfying romance at the end.

Now granted if you’re looking for a lovey-dovey romance throughout the whole story this isn’t the route for you. The romance doesn’t really kick start until at least 3/4 of the way through this route, and even then it’s nothing that exciting. The MC struggles to understand what love even is herself, having her only boyfriends being fictional otome men (the relatability is real), she finds herself unable to register what those feelings are. It’s not until a playful bullying from the other ICU doctors and a dictionary search that she realises she’s in love.

But in general, I found Takado’s route an enjoyable read with well placed comedic timing and good focus on the the more serious side of things when it was important. So if you find yourself bored like me, maybe just give it a read. Just don’t come at me with torches and pitchforks when you’re $15 poorer.

Moments I Particularly Enjoyed

The reminder that you are in fact reading the correct story

The scientific breakdown of kabedon

The obvious sarcastic remarks, that the socially inept MC doesn’t understand

The casual discussion of banging in the workplace

Pros and Cons

Pros

Character Development. I feel like both the MC and Takado showed character development. The MC when she finally figured out she has to stop being so damn arrogant and realise the consequences of when she opens her mouth. And Takado, that he can’t just tell people they’re having their leg cut off and just walk off.

Length. Need I say more.

Good pacing. Story progresses, MC progresses, Romance progresses. Good job guys.

Well written. Actually laughed out loud a fair few times whilst reading this story, which I definitely wasn’t expecting. Also whoever came up with the idea of the character sprites holding up a board for comic effect is a god damn genius.

Good group dynamics. I mean it’s not KBTBB, but I enjoyed reading the interactions between all the ICU doctors. Hopefully with more releases we’ll be able to see more of their relationship with each other.

Cons

Love Choice. I mean you can read this story completely free…just you won’t know any of the back story, you won’t get any of the romantic moments and you’ll get the shit ending. But if you’re happy spending $15 for a main story then this is a pro I suppose.

Lacking in romance. Now I’m not saying there isn’t any, I personally don’t have an issue with how things progressed (I much prefer the romance to come in following stories like epilogues and sequels) but I have a feeling if you’re after something with a lot of romance running throughout it, this story won’t be for you.

Too many legs were harmed in the making of this route. People be getting their legs cut off more times than I’ve had hot dinners. Everyone thinks Takado goes around cutting people’s legs off for fun…and honestly you can’t blame them for thinking that.

Not many CGs. Remember the days when we had 6 CGs for a main story? I know I’m being picky but having 1 CG in episode 1 and the last CG in the SHE, that only leaves 2 other CGs for 28 episodes. If you’re gonna have a main story that long, surely you can spare another CG or two Voltage?

I’ve put the character sprites and the CGs below a read more button so people can avoid spoilers. So if you’re interested in what I’ve officially renamed the characters keep reading :) VVVVVVVV

Starring

Dr.Amputation (I’m telling you now, you wouldn’t want this one for your general health checkup) (Takado)

Angry Coach (Takao)

Angry Coach’s Wife (Who I’ve actually forgotten the name of)

Darling Boy (Haruto)

Darling Boy’s mother (Yoko)

Flirty McGee (Hosho)

Kasumi’s Die-hard Fan (but can you blame him?) (Kyogoku)

Dean the Absolute Meme (Matsunaga)

Ghost Hospital Director (Seriously, I think we see him like once in the whole route(why is he even on this list? Because I already had a screenshot and I’d figured I might as well use it) (Usagida)

ICU’s On-Call Doctor Dealer (Ekuni)

Total Babe (Kasumi) (Just you wait till your ass is out bitch)

Also can you blame me?

Ultimate Waifu (Missy)

Partner in Otaku Crime (Asuka)

Cute Penguin (Watch out Sydney, she’s coming for your top spot on the favourite Voltage mascot list and probably your large swimming pool) (Kalmia)

A reformed KBTBB Villain (Mario)

The Main Character (Sekai)

The Actual Main Character (Why we see her sprite for one split second I’m not overly sure, but yeah hard pass Voltage)

CGs

Episode 1

Episode 18

Episode 27

SHE

Now if I were you, I’d go and actually find a good review to read. Like @aqvarius

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long-bodyswap · 5 years

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Exchange parts

I don’t have the credits for this story

I watched him flexing his chest on the fly machine and made up my mind. This was the day I would do it to him. It was a Saturday morning at the health club and he was the only other man there. I had seen him before many times. But usually after work, when our downtown club was crowded with the other desk jockeys. Saturday morning was the quiet time. Often I had the place all to myself, the only one venturing downtown for a weekend workout. But he was here today and it was my opportunity.

I should mention that I am technically "straight". That is, I have never had any real sexual encounter with another guy. But I can spot an attractive man. And I have a particular fascination with penis size. I think this stems from the fact that I happen to be very well endowed myself. Ever since I entered puberty and realized my own dick was growing to huge proportions, I have been obsessed with the subject. Fully soft I hang about 7 inches and frequently sport a semi in the locker room that hangs even a couple inches longer. I also happen to be short, about 5'5", which especially accentuates the size. I'm nicely muscled and have been told I'm cute. My secret pleasure at the gym is being looked at and looking at others. I always check them out and take note of their size.

He was tallish-not real tall, but like 5'11", maybe 6 foot. Sandy hair, brown eyes in a handsome face. A nice body, no bodybuilder but well-muscled and hard, a broad , smooth chest and a tight, flat stomach. Late 20s-ish, like me. And a little nub of a dick. You know the type, a little head and maybe an inch or so of shaft just jutting out proudly from his groin. Unlike a lot of small hung men, he didn't seem especially self conscious about it. Didn't keep a towel wrapped tightly around him all the time and grab it immediately after stepping out of the shower. But I have caught him a couple of times stealing a perhaps wistful glance at my low hanging dick, the dick which was probably considerably larger soft than he was with his strongest hard on. And those times he did seem to grab for his towel a little more quickly.

Today we finished up our workouts about the same time and made our way to the locker room. Still just the two of us. He entered the shower first. I followed shortly after, stepping in with my dick swinging as usual. I chose the shower head on the far side, directly across from him. He was beginning to lather his broad chest, his little dick poking defiantly down below. Here goes, I thought, and turned my back to him as I began to lather myself.

Soon I knew it was working. As I soaped my dick I could feel it shrink in my hands, shriveling up. Tightening into a stubby little nub. I glanced over my shoulder at him. His back was to me now as he lathered his hair. Then I heard him gasp a little, then moan softly, and murmur, "Oh God." His buttocks tightened a bit. I knew what was happening. For the first time in his life he was feeling the pure pleasure of a jet of water pulsating and cascading down a long, thick slab of hanging cockflesh. He looked down and exclaimed, "Jesus!" as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing. I turned around.

"What's the matter, I asked?"

"I . . . I don't know." He turned, arms outstretched. There, hanging below his tight abs, where before there had been a jutting nub, was the pendulous, fleshy dick. My dick. And I sported his little, stubby prick.

He said, "Hey, aren't you the guy with the huge donkey schlong? What happened to that?"

I said, "It's yours. For today. We switched."

I guess I should explain. You see, we men who are very well endowed possess a special power. We have the ability to exchange our dicks with other men for periods of up to 24 hours, giving them to see how the other 1 percent live. You have probably never heard of this before. It's a closely guarded secret. You can imagine how we would be constantly pestered if other men knew we could do this. (There are, however, underground rumors of guys who basically make a living renting their dicks out!)

I had only done this once before. With my college roommate. He was always amazed by the size of my dick so I let him borrow it one night to try on his girlfriend. His dick was about 7 inches hard and hung 3 or 4 soft, so the difference was not quite as weird for me as trying on this guy's dick was. My roommate's dick just reminded me of being 13 again. But I couldn't remember ever having one this small. It felt like I had nothing between my legs at all.

"This is amazing," my new friend was saying, "damn, I can feel it swinging between my legs. I can actually feel this dick hanging off me."

"I guess it must feel quite a bit different for you. I'm Charles, by the way." "What? Oh, I'm Jeff," he said.

"Come here, Jeff, I want to show you something." I led him over to the whirlpool and we both got in. "Right here," I said, "Stand in this spot and let the jet blow on it." He followed my instructions and let out a moan of pleasure.

"Oh God. That feels amazing. I can feel it pushing and pulling at this big hanging dick. It's almost like it's sucking it. God, I never felt anything like this before."

"I can see why," I said. I was standing near a jet myself and could barely feel anything on the little nub dick. Just a tickle. "You never had anything to feel it with before."

"Shit, this is amazing. I can feel it being stroked and caressed by the water. The damn thing is getting bigger." I could see through the bubbling water that he was getting a hard on. I got up out of the tub and stood, just watching him enjoy these sensations that were intensely new to him. As I watched, I suddenly realized that my own little dick was now rock hard. It amazed me how quickly it went from soft to hard. My big dick gets completely hard, but it takes a lot of blood flow to get it there and it goes through several stages of flexible, semi-erection along the way. But this little prick just shot up to full hardness. It stood sticking straight out probably about 4 and half inches, maybe close to 5. I stroked it with a couple of fingers. It felt so strange and tiny in my hands.

Jeff was fully hard by now. He stood up out of the tub. Hanging heavy from his groin was that stiff, downward curving banana I knew so well. It's full length just under 11 inches, 6 inches around the shaft, 7 around at the base. He walked and felt it jounce and tug at his groin. "Shit, this is just the most incredible thing," he said. "I finally know what it feels like to have a real dick!" He walked over to the mirror and looked at himself in disbelief. "God damn. This is just amazing." He grabbed it in both big hands. "Jesus, I can put both hands on it. And there's still some left over." He stroked it and fumbled with it, muttering over and over about how amazing it was.

"I have to remind you it's just temporary," I said. "It comes back to me at midnight tonight. But I thought you would appreciate the chance to know what it feels like." "Man, I sure do. What can I ever do to thank you for this?"

“Well, there is one thing. This is a different experience for me too and I am curious. What makes a little dick like this feel good?"

"I'll show you one thing," he said, "I mean, I don't usually do this kind of thing for other guys, but this is a very special situation." He knelt before my, my big dick still bobbing mightily between his legs. He took the hard little prick into his mouth, totally engulfing it. A new wave of pleasure swept over me. This was the one real delight I could never experience with my own dick. No one had ever been able to swallow the whole thing. And especially not with room left in their mouth to flick and tickle it with the tongue. I wondered for a second, Is this really a gay experience? I mean, is it gay sex to be having another man suck a dick that's not really your own? But I quickly gave up these philosophical musings to surrender to the total experience of having my whole dick surrounded by a warm wet mouth. It wasn't long before I came with a frightening intensity. When I started to cum, I jerked the little prick out of his mouth and grasped it with three fingers, pumping the hot jizz from this tiny volcano onto his broad chest.

He collapsed backward onto his hands. "There," he smiled, "you see, having a little one isn't all bad."

Then I showed him how to play with a big one. I taught him my methods of using both hands to stroke the wide, long shaft. How you could alternate between slow, long strokes with one hand on top of the other and short quick ones with the hands on either side. I watched him play with the new toy, experiencing it's awesome size, until he came in a massive flood.

We showered and got dressed. For the first time in his life, Jeff experienced what it was like to try to stuff a 7 inch soft penis into tight white briefs. I explained that this was the reason I always wear boxers and suggested that he "go commando" if he wanted to get the full effect. He pulled on his khakis without underwear and walked around a little. "Yeah, that feels much better. It's amazing, I can still feel the damn thing hanging and swinging down there. I told him we could do whatever he wanted to have fun with his new appendage, but that the one condition was that I accompany him on his adventures. After all, that was my dick he was carrying around.

Our first stop was another gym. Jeff wanted to experience what it was like to strut around a locker room with a penis that was the envy of every other man. I had a membership in the suburban Y which tended to be crowded on weekends, so we went there, had a light workout, and showered up. Jeff got to strut and be gawked at and I had the unique experience of being the smallest guy in the shower. Afterwards we swung through the mall so Jeff could put on similar "performances" at the urinals in public restrooms.

Eventually, Jeff decided he wanted to put "ol' donkey dick" (as he called it) to a more practical test by using it on a woman. I reminded him that we had to work quickly as he would turn into a pumpkin at midnight. He knew a smoky little pick-up bar where we should be able to get some quick action. He explained to me that he and his buds had a scheme they used in this place frequently with great success. "Always find the hot chick with the ugly friend. She never wants to leave the ugly friend alone. So one of you pays attention to the hot chick, one to the ugly friend. You both hook up." He confessed to me that he normally wound up taking the ugly friend. Although he was aware that women found him attractive, he was always bothered by the fear that the "hot chick" would be disappointed with his small endowment but figured that the ugly friend would usually be grateful for whatever action she got. Tonight, bursting with the special confidence of the well hung, he intended to score the hot chick.

Jeff was right. We picked up the two girls easily and had them back to his apartment by 11:00. Mandy was the "hot chick" and Jill, the friend, really wasn't ugly. In fact, she was sort of cute in a mousy kind of way. The girls were already pretty drunk by the time we picked them up. We shared a little more wine on Jeff's big couch and, with an eye on the clock, got down to business. Soon we were all getting undressed. Again I had a pang of apprehension. This was the first time I would ever strip down to reveal a tiny cock. Jill didn't seem to mind. She was very horny, very drunk, and probably didn't expect much more anyway-being short, I noticed that girls are usually very surprised to find a huge cock when I undressed. She took my hard little prick in her mouth. Again I felt the amazing pleasure of having my entire cock engulfed. I relaxed and let my body feel the delight.

Over Jill's head, I could see Mandy caressing Jeff's smooth wide chest. She helped him drop his pants and gasped at the sight of 9 semi-hard inches of cock flesh hanging there, a sound I had heard from many a woman. "Oh my God," she exclaimed. Jeff flashed a proud grin. "It gets bigger baby," he said." Turning to Jill, Mandy said laughing, "I guess you really did get the little one." She was caressing the hardening cock. Realizing that midnight was approaching fast, Jeff wasted no time. He brought the big cock to full throbbing 11 inch erectness, shaking it hard from the base to get the blood flowing as I had shown him. I was getting so turned on just by the sight of him enjoying this. I slid Jill down to the rug, making sure I could still watch Jeff, and entered her. Again it was very strange. Slipping in so easily, without the tight resistance I was used to. Feeling her hot cunt swallow the little prick whole. I plunged and grinded, trying hard to feel something of her insides. Meanwhile, Jeff was struggling to enter Mandy with his unfamiliar tool. "Jeez, I don't think I can take that," Mandy gasped. Again, I had heard that before. "It's okay, baby. I'll be gentle," Jeff said. He thrust into her with a pop. "Oh God," she moaned. "Oh, Jesus," Jeff grunted as he slid deep into her. I could tell he was again feeling something he had never experienced before. Going deeper than he had ever been. Totally filling a woman with man meat.

We had all been going at it for a few minutes. Jeff's face was a mask of unreal pleasure. I felt a tingling down below. Felt myself growing, expanding deeper into Jill's hot cunt. Felt her cunt tightening around me. "Shit," Jill gasped, "the damn thing's growing." I could see Jeff's face. The look of pleasure had been replaced with a look of confused frustration. I could tell what was happening. He was shrinking, shriveling inside Mandy's cunt. "No, no. Shit," he said, thrusting harder and faster. Desperately trying to keep the pleasure going. I came hard, pulling out my cock, now fully expanded back to its normal size, and spewing hot jizz on Jill's breasts as I grasped the big banana at its base. Jeff gave one last frustrated grunt and as his dick popped out of Mandy's expanded cunt. He lay back, the hard little prick standing defiantly at attention. Jill looked at my huge, softening cock hanging over her face then over at Jeff's. "I guess you have the little man now," she told Mandy. "Jesus, what the hell?" Mandy stared in disbelief at Jeff's proud little organ. "This is too freaky. Come on, Jill. We're getting out of here." She grabbed Jill's hand, gathered up their clothes with the other one, and dragged Jill out the door.

I looked at poor sweet Jeff, lying there with frustration on his face and his tiny hard prick pointing toward the ceiling. "Come on, little man. I'll finish you off," I said and stroked him with three fingers until he came.

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windless-hurricane · 5 years

Text

Pennywise and the Dancing Girl

Chapter 8: Anything and Everything

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SUMMARY: Emma has been controlled and haunted by the clown of many names for as long as she remembered. However, that begins to change once she meets Henry Bowers, the local asshole.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I’d like to apologize once again for the long time hiatus. I’ve been quite busy lately and I haven’t had time to write. However, I’m trying to finish this series as soon as possible, so I can start writing the sequel series! Also, this chapter was meant to be a lot longer, but it ended up being too long, so I decided to split it into two parts!

WARNINGS: Explicit language and mentions of death.

WORD COUNT: 3.9k

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

PENNYWISE AND THE DANCING GIRL MASTERLIST

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

“Let’s get outta here.”

Within those few moments, everything I felt about him changed. I didn’t know why; but all of a sudden, I felt this urge to run away with him. To do anything and everything with him.

Maybe it was because deep down, I felt like we were running out of time. Even though I had no reason to.

It was barely the beginning of July and we had plenty of time left before school started again. However, it still didn’t stop that feeling. This feeling that something was drawing closer and closer to us and when it finally came, we wouldn’t be able to stop it. Maybe it was my paranoia, my bad luck; but no matter what reason I told myself, I always knew that the true reason was because of Gray.

With him around, I could never be happy. I was even lucky to get this far, but now I knew. He was angry and he wouldn’t let me remain this way for much longer. He was ready to end it all. So, the only thing I could do now was take this opportunity with Henry and not let it waste away. I had to. I had to take his hand.

So, I did and I left him with little time to react as I pulled him out the library.

“Emma,” he called out. “Where are we going?” And I stopped. That was a good question. Where were we going? There were not many places to go to in Derry. It was a small town and we could literally scope out the entirety of it in a day. There was the arcade, the park, the theater, one of the dozen restaurants that we had, and the quarry. We had gone to all of them before, but this would be different. Now, it would just be me and him - sharing and experiencing it together. I did say that I wanted to experience anything and everything with him…didn’t I?

So, I simply turned to him and blatantly said, “Everywhere.” I searched his face for any sign of confirmation, but his eyes wouldn’t meet mine. They just focused on his shoes and I didn’t realize why until I felt the clamminess of his hand.

He was nervous, shy, and the closer I looked, I saw that his cheeks were flushed with color. It was then that I realized that I did this to him. I made him feel this way and it wasn’t until his eyes finally met mine that I also realized, he did the same to me.

We had touched plenty of times before, but never like this. At least not often as this. We had only done this two other times. The first time being the day he came to find me at the park after Patrick’s death. We had been standing close to one another, to the point where I felt his breath hitting my cheek and his nose barely grazing my forehead. He had been holding my hand in his as he gently traced the outline of my rug burn. I remember how my cheeks burned and my heart raced as he did so. And the second being just a bit ago in the library, when he ran his fingers down the scars of my neck. My breath had halted and I actually missed his touch when he pulled away. So, the real question was… Why did I feel this way? Why?

There was only one possible answer; but for some reason, it scared me too much to admit it. It would be too hard to. So, I just pulled my hand away from his and pushed the thought into the back of my mind, choosing to ignore it for now.

“How does that sound,” I asked calmly, and I waited until I got it what I was looking for - a small smirk playing at his lips.

“Where do you wanna go first?”And I couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto my own lips.

__________________________________________

We both decided to head to the arcade first, already making our way there. We were awfully quiet and I figured it was because we still hadn’t completely made up yet. I know he did admitted to wanting to become a better person, but he also didn’t apologize for being a dick the night of the party… Then again, I also didn’t apologize for punching him in the face. It was now or never, I thought to myself.

I glanced over at him and he looked surprisingly calm. It was very different in comparison to the usual bitch face he wore, and I quickly found myself liking this look a lot more than the other.

“Like what you see,” he questioned bluntly and I immediately turned away, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“No,” I answered. “Why would I?” And he didn’t seem convinced. Hell, I wasn’t even convinced. I knew that was a flat-out lie. Henry was always pretty to look at.

“Oh, cause you weren’t checking me out just right,” he mentioned, raising a brow.

“It’s not that. I just… I just wanted to say sorry for…well, punching you in the face I guess.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Say you’re sorry. I deserved it.”

I looked at him in disbelief as he said that. Did he really just say that he deserved it? The Henry I knew would have never allowed anyone to do that to him, even if he knew he was being a dick. He never liked getting hit, even if it was done jokingly. That’s why it surprised me so much.

“Well, I might have overreacted,” I added.

“Emma.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve never felt bad about anything you’ve done before, so don’t now, okay? I deserved it and you knew I did, that’s why you did it. It’s nothing you should be saying sorry for. Got it?”

I gazed at him for a few moments before nodding, “Yeah.” There was a short pause of silence before he spoke up again.

“That was a pretty hard punch though,” he noted with a slight smirk. “Were you trying to knock me out?”

“No,” I giggled.

“You knocked me straight on my ass.”

“Well, I can do it again. So, don’t test me.”

“You wanna bet?” And at that, the both of us stopped in our tracks and gazed into each other’s eyes.

I thought he was just joking at first, but then I saw the cockiness of his smirk and knew that he was being dead serious. It amused me to say the least.

“And what exactly are we gonna bet,” I asked and he seemed to ponder for a bit before answering.

“Well, you said you wanted to do everything, right? That includes going to the movies then. Loser has to get all the snacks for when we go.”

I hummed softy, “Okay. So, all I have to do is knock you on your ass again to win?”

“Yeah…but in street fighter.” And my face immediately broke into a smile.

“Ohhh, I see what you’re doing,” I cooed. “It’s because you know that I suck at street fighter.”

“It’s not the only thing you suck at,” he teased. “But yeah, it is. So, is it a bet or not?” I bit my lip softly before nodding.

“Alright, Bowers. You’re on.”

__________________________________________

“Okay, you should be Ken,” I told him, gesturing to the screen, but he only gave me a look of disbelief.

“Why,” he questioned and I shrugged.

“Well, you kinda look like him. You both have blonde hair and blue eyes. You both wear red all the time and…you both have muscles. Yours aren’t as big, of course, but they’re still pretty nice.”

“You think my muscles are nice,” he smirked and I immediately froze. Did I really say that? Why the fuck would I say that? That’s not something he should know. The cocky bastard would never let me live that down. I had to think of an excuse quick.

“What? No,” I scoffed. “I just meant that other people might think they’re nice. Not me.”

“Uh huh,” he breathed, leaning in closer to me. “You know if I didn’t know any better, Emma, I’d say that you liked me.” His voice was low and smooth, and he was so impossibly close that could I feel his breath. It was enough to send a shiver down my spine, but I couldn’t let it get to me. So, I simply pushed him away and scoffed,

“Don’t flatter yourself. I much rather like Mr. Keene than you.“ He chuckled softly.

“Sure you would,” he remarked, now leaning over the dash of the machine and putting his token in. “I’ll be Ken.” I stared at him for a few moments, before leaning down beside him and pushing my own token into its slot. He glanced over at me and I could tell from the corner of my eye that he was started to stare. So, curiously, I looked back at him. To be honest, I half expected him to look away, but he didn’t. He just held my gaze, before dropping his eyes over the rest of my face and I let him. It wasn’t much longer till his eyes met mine again and he spoke up,

“Two out of three, okay?”

“Okay,” I smirked and his lips mirrored mine in seconds.

“Ready to lose?”

“Are you?” And we both turned back to the screen once we heard the game announcer yell ”Round One!”

I quickly placed my fingers over the buttons of the machine and wrapped my other hand around the joystick, waiting for the announcer to yell again. I have to win, I told myself. I know I suck, but I can’t suck now. Not against Henry. I said I would knock him on his ass, so that’s what I’m going to do. I’m not going to disappoint him now. Wait, what?

“Fight!” My eyes shot open and I rapidly began to press the buttons, hearing Henry do the same. My Ryu was able to punch his Ken a few times before he overwhelmed me, blocking every one of my punches and punching me whenever I left an opening. He continued to do this until my health bar was nearly empty and I was only able to get one more punch in until he completely destroyed me.

“Shit,” I groaned. What was I thinking? I’ve never won against him before, so what made me think I could do it now? It was only one loss, but it was enough to remind me that I was terrible at Street Fighter. I should just give him my wallet right now.

I sighed softly and glanced over at him. It looked like he was having the time of his fucking life. All cocky with that damn smirk. What I wouldn’t give to wipe it off his damn face? And then, it hit me. I once beat Richie Tozier and he was practically the king of this game and almost everyone knew it. Yet, I beat him. I did have Eddie to cheer me on; but this time, I had to do it for myself. This time my motivation was to wipe that damned smirk off Henry’s face and beat him at his own game.

“There’s still two rounds left, Bowers. Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet,” I warned, but he only laughed it off.

“There’s only two more rounds left, if you can beat me in the next one,” he informed and while he wasn’t wrong, I didn’t plan on losing again.

“I’ll beat you.”

“You’ll beat me, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up.” And he laughed again, getting back in position beside me. He was closer than before, his arm and hip pressing against mine, but this time I didn’t care. All I cared about was winning these next two rounds and this damn bet.

“Round two!” I took a deep breath and stared intently at the screen. Focus, Emma. Focus.

“Fight!” This time, instead of rapidly bashing my buttons, I waited for him to attack first. I decided that my best bet was to use the same strategy that I used to beat Richie, so that’s exactly what I did. I kept blocking his punches until I saw an opening and once I did, I punched him as many times as he would allow. Then when he finally went to block, I jumped over him and punched him in the back numerous times. I kept alternating between these three techniques until I finally won.

Feeling a sense of achievement overwhelm me, I cheered a bit too loudly as he simply groaned out in frustration. I thought he would have stopped me to be honest, but he didn’t. He actually waited before asking-

“You done?” He sounded solemn and serious, but it didn’t quite reach his face. It was like he was pretending to be annoyed, but his eyes and lips just wouldn’t cooperate.

It almost seemed like he wanted to smile, but didn’t. He just was holding it back. Then, his eyes were filled with something I’ve never seen before. I couldn’t tell what it was at first, but the deeper I looked, the more I thought I saw…adoration?

I gulped softly at the thought before answering him,

“Nope. Cause I know I’m going to win the next round too.” And I did. It was shocking as hell, but I was damn proud. So much so that I cheered again. Even if it was annoying to the other kids there. At least Henry didn’t find it annoying. __________________________________________  “Why are you grabbing so much shit,” he complained.

“You lost the bet, remember? How many times do I have to remind you,” I remarked smugly before placing another candy bar in his arms.

“Yeah, I remember, but I also remember you sucking too.”

“Yeah, I know. Good thing it wasn’t the same as you remembered,” I chuckled as I spotted a basket beside us, picking it up.

“Don’t go feeling all smug now just because you won one game of Street Fighter.”

“I think it’s a bit too late for that,” I smirked, showing him the basket. “After all, I consider beating you quite the accomplishment. Especially since I get a bunch of free snacks with it.”

He scoffed softly as he placed the snacks into the basket, a small smile plastered on his lips.

“It doesn’t take a lot to impress you, huh?”

“No, I guess not,” I shrugged and he took the basket from me.

“That’s alright,” he confessed. “That’s one of the reasons why I like you anyway.” I gazed up at him with wide eyes, but he simply shot me a smirk before walking away completely. However, that didn’t stop my eyes from following him.

Did he actually mean that or…was he just joking? Either way, I couldn’t help the rate that my heart was beating at or the warmth that was currently flooding my chest.

This felt…unreal. Everything about this felt unreal. How could I be here? How could I be with Henry? How could I be happy? How could I live? Could I stay like this? Forever? I sure hope I could. I wish I could. Please. I want to stay. I want to stay with Vic and Reggie. I want to stay with Eddie. I want… I want to stay with Henry. Always.

I can’t imagine going on in a world without him. Without his temper. Without his cockiness. Without his sweetness and stubbornness. Without his pain. Without that stupid mullet. Without his beautiful cloudy blue eyes. Without his beautiful…everything. I just can’t. I need him and I always will.

A smile unknowingly made its way onto my face as I watched him put a few more candy bars in the basket. He had no idea that had been watching him and still didn’t know until he looked back in my direction. His smile matched mine as he tilted his head slightly.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” he questioned.

“It’s nothing,” I lied. “You can keep looking.”

With that, I turned away and continued searching through the store. I already picked out my snacks, so I might as well look around as Henry picked out his.

I somehow drifted into the clothes section of the store, the bright colors of shirts and pants catching my eyes. While they were appealing, they’ve never been my style. I always wore denim, denim, and more denim over simple shirts and tainted converse. That was my style, but I stopped once I spotted a dress.

It was different compared to most of the dresses I saw girls at school wear. It wasn’t skanky and didn’t leave little to the imagination. It was quite pretty and modest and while it was off the shoulder, it still had thin straps to hold it up. I could actually imagine myself wearing it. I was starting to like it that much.

“I never pegged you to be the dress type,” a voice interrupted behind me, and I immediately recognized it as Henry.

“I’m not,” I agreed.

“Well, it sure looks like you want it.”

“I don’t,” I lied, still staring at it.

“Why don’t you try it on?”

“Huh,” I asked in surprise.

“You should try it on,” he repeated.

“No, I shouldn’t,” I shook my head. “I’ll just look goofy.”

“You can never look goofy,” he uttered, and it wasn’t until I felt my cheeks burned that I saw his light up as well. “At least to me anyway,” he finished shyly, and his comment was enough to reassure me that with him, I was always safe and would never be judged.

So taking his word for it, I turned around to grab the dress, looking it over once more before surveying the store for a fitting room. Already knowing what I was thinking, Henry decided to give me the answer himself. “There’s one in the back,” he stated and I nodded slightly, before gesturing him to follow me as I started to walk over.

There was only one room with a chair by the wall. It was pretty isolated, but I preferred that. I didn’t really want anyone other than Henry seeing me.

So once we got to the fitting room, I knocked on the door twice just to make sure no one was in there and luckily, there wasn’t.

I glanced back at Henry and he was already sitting on the chair with the basket beside him. He must’ve known I was staring because his eyes met mine almost immediately.

“Don’t make fun of me,” I told him and he breathed out a laugh. I knew he wouldn’t. I just felt like saying it.

“Don’t worry,” he uttered, “I won’t.”

“Alright,” I smirked. “I’m trusting you.” And with that, I stepped foot into the room and locked the door behind me.

There was only a mirror in the room along with my own reflection. Most of the scars that I had acquired over this past month had faded, except for the one of course. My hair was a bit longer and my eyes didn’t look sunken for once. I actually looked…alive and happier. And just the thought of that made me smile a bit more.

Within seconds, I had stripped of my clothes and put them off to the side. And with a few more, I had already stepped into the dress and pulled the straps over my shoulders. Now, I could see more qualities that I didn’t before.

The dress actually stopped mid-calf and hugged my waist quite a bit. However, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. I was also never a fan of plain white, but this along with the red, yellow, and pink flowers was quite nice. I actually wouldn’t mind wearing this out anywhere.

“Are you almost done,” Henry asked from the outside and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. He didn’t sound irritated, but he did have the habit of being impatient.

“Yes, I’m coming out now,” I called out, before grabbing the handle of the door. I took a deep breath and tried my best to ignore the nervousness that was washing over me. There’s no reason to feel nervous, I told myself. It’s just Henry, but then again. It’s the fact that it is Henry that makes me nervous.

I sighed quietly before turning the handle of the door and stepping out.

HENRY’S POINT OF VIEW

I tore the wrapper of the chocolate bar open and snapped a piece off before sticking it in my mouth. I chewed on it silently as I waited for her to come out… but should it really take that long to put on a dress?

“Are you almost done,” I asked and she responded fairly quickly.

“Yes, I’m coming out now,” she called out and she sounded a bit irritated. Did she not like the dress or was she just getting annoyed by me? Knowing her, it was probably the latter.

I smirked to myself as I snapped another piece off. I was this close to putting it into my mouth until I heard the door click. Now, all my attention shifted to the door.

She came out slowly, then all at once. Even if she did decide to come out all fast or all slow, I wouldn’t have been prepared either way. Because I had no idea that I’d be sitting in the presence of someone so perfect.

When did I deserve something like this? What did I do to deserve something like this? What did I do to deserve someone like her coming into my life?

The simple answer was that I didn’t…and that I probably never would. But I wanted to deserve it. I needed to deserve it. I would make sure that I deserved it. That I deserved her. Cause if I couldn’t have her, then what would be the point of anything? To me, a world without her in it wasn’t a world at all. It just wasn’t. Wherever she is, wherever she goes, that’s where I want to be. Always and forever. Because it’s her that I need and always will need.

BACK TO EMMA’S POINT OF VIEW

I stepped out and his eyes immediately widened. I didn’t expect them to, but they did. I also didn’t expect him to completely ignore the piece of chocolate that he had been holding in his hand and drop it to the floor carelessly.

He stayed like that for a few seconds, just staring in silence. I felt compelled to break him out of it, but before I could, he had already decided to speak up,

“Wow.” It was short and simple, but it made me impossibly happy and sent my heart fluttering. “You look…you look beautiful.”

“Do I,” I asked softly, almost not believing him.

“Yeah,” his cheeks started to redden. “I mean-I mean you look good.” And at that, I crossed my arms in displeasure and decided to get him back for changing his answer so quickly.

“Are you blushing, Bowers?”

“What? No,” he denied, rather unconvincingly.

“You know if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked me.”

“You wish,” he scoffed and that stung. I knew it shouldn’t have. I was equally as petty when he told me the same thing earlier, but then again. Did he really like me as much as I…as much as I liked him? I sure hope he did.

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

END OF CHAPTER 8

19 notes · View notes