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papipopsicle · 3 years

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AFTERTASTE PART SEVEN

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Reader

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether sex and friendship can co-exist without causing conflict. Including OC's Flick and Cherry, a bisexual and lesbian in a sapphic relationship who are best friends of Y/N.

Song: Dream Boy by Waterparks

Warnings: swearing

Words: 2.1K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

Y/F and Y/M Robins were far from perfect parents. Y/F had the mental age of a toddler at times, and being an estate agent who always has to go the extra mile- he often wasn't home when his wife needed him the most. Y/M, on the other end of things, had been a stay at home mum until Y/N turned 16 last summer, and now she helped with all the administrative work for Mayor McCoy. She was a maternal creature which, coupled with her brilliant sarcasm, made for some explosive conversations. The two met on the first day of university and got married a week after the last.

When Y/M first found out she was pregnant with little Y/S Robins, the two realised they wanted a quiet bubble of a town to raise their children and grow up with them. But it wasn't until their second daughter was about to turn seven until they found their forever home in the quaint town of Riverdale. Ten years passing before their eyes, and the picturesque place didn't seen all that anymore.

Jason Blossom's death had nothing to do with the short gunshot sounding over the waves of Sweetwater River, the noise which woke Y/N from her sweet unmemorable dreams every few nights. The summer days rolled into early August without anyone caring, Y/N spending most of them at Cheryl's side listening intently to her past adventures with her brother. Betty threw herself into an internship at a publication house; Flick and Cherry had volunteered at a summer camp, and Archie was helping his dad out more and more with constructions job.

Although it hadn't been the start to the relationship Y/N had hoped for- the nervous giggles and hand holding, short and sweet kisses on late night walks followed by poetry worthy cuddling. There was a magnificent silver lining as Archie's muscles gained definition, and he suited the sweaty builder look far too well.

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y/n Humph!

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Cheryl busy being my own icon

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"Earth to my gorgeous queen? Y/N/N?" Cheryl quizzed her friend, who currently resided at the poolside of Thornehill Manor. Her mind was off on a glorious tangent about her rendezvous in the kitchen at two in the morning. Fixing herself a glass of water, when Archie slips his hand into her pyjama shorts, his other around her mouth muffling her needy moans.

The red headed beauty shoved her y/h/c friend playfully, warm skin sweaty under her pale touch. Y/N blinked innocently and sent her an apologetic smile, "What?"

"I asked if you've thought about dating anyone else since Clayton?" The fiery ginger girl enquired with her usual upbeat tone.

Cheryl knew she had a unique quality about her which made it almost impossible for Y/N to lie to her face. The y/h/c girl scrunched up her nose, hiding the smile the idea of Archie Andrews brought to her face. 'Yes. We started off as fuck buddies but never actually fucked. Then I drunkenly asked him to be my boyfriend, now a month later I think we may genuinely work out.'

"Maybe." Y/N bit her bottom lip, listening to her friend's squeal as she squeezed her sun tanned arm.

"I knew it! You have this euphoric glow you only get when someone else makes you climax." The redhead affirmed confidently, watching the Robins girl's eyes bug out before hitting her arm, "Y/N/N, you know your secret's safe with me."

"Fine." She sighed and took a sip of her fruity cocktail, "It started off as just fooling around, honestly I just needed to let off some steam after everything. I knew he was into the kinds of things I was, I mean he used to tease me about it non stop. And it was good, so good I stopped being a pussy and asked him to be my boyfriend."

"Holy freaking hell!" The Blossom girl grinned with excitement, "Dare I ask, who is it?"

Y/N deadpanned at her friend, "Guess."

"Please don't tell me it's that muscular oaf Reggie, he's pretty but there's not exactly much going on upstairs." Cheryl tapped her temples and rolled her eyes at the thought.

"Nope."

The ginger thought for a moment, consulting her liquid courage and splashing her feet around the waters edge, "It's Archie."

All it took was a side-eyed glance at the y/h/c girl's blooming rosy cheeks to know she definitely wasn't wrong. Y/N severely lacked the ability to lie, even if her tone held conviction, her features were far too expressive and told the truth all on their own. It's not like they were hiding it from anyone, but the past four weeks had gone far too quickly without any moments to spare for the world around them. They slept together each night, the majority of that time not actually spent sleeping, but they hadn't been given the chance yet to explore more romantic avenues.

"It's fucking Archie Andrews- you're fucking Archie Andrews and don't you dare deny it." Cheryl gawked in her gorgeous white and nude bikini, watching as her friend lay back against the hot marble slabs which encased the large pool with the largest grin adorning her plump lips.

"We haven't had sex yet, so technically you aren't completely correct." Y/N winked but carried on before the girl exploded with a hundred questions and could never be turned off, "Trust me, I want to, and I'm sure he does too. But you know, it's his first time, I want it to be perfect for him."

"Y/N/N, you really love him, don't you?" Cheryl gagged to begin with, but she found it sweet in truth. She wanted someone to hold, who would hold her right back just as tight for no other reason than needing to.

Y/N sat back up and paddled her feet, "You have no idea, Cher."

Arch 🧡

That new post should be illegal

Tiger 💛

Ooo

I like this reaction

Maybe I should post more

Like this one

Cheryl pushed me in the pool

And I may have had a drink

Or three

Arch 🧡

Well that's sexy

I swear nobody looks good like that how on earth

You're a goddess

But also

How's she holding up?

Tiger 💛

🥺😇

Broken

But she's strong yk

You coming over for dinner?

Arch 🧡

Yeah Y/D invited my dad too

Need me to pick you up from Cheryl's?

Tiger 💛

Awe cute we love a bromance, and it's all good my mommas coming now anyways :))

Hours had elapsed far too fast and soon the summer heat simmered into cool waves of wind brushing over sun kissed skin. Cheryl's arms were clasped around the blonde's shoulders in a tight embrace.

"Thank you so much, Y/N/N, I don't know what I'd do without you!" The Blossom girl professed with sparkling eyes and a brilliant smile.

Y/N beamed up at her, fingers carding through her damp y/h/c hair as she looked over her shoulder to see her mum pulling into the driveway, "You don't need to thank me, Cher, friends look after each other. Message me if you need me, okay?"

Cheryl promised she would and the two teen girls hugged goodbye, with Y/N soon heading home- listening to her mother gossip about Hal and Alice's screaming match last night, Y/N loved her inability to keep her mouth shut sometimes.

"Mom," The y/h/c stopped her mid sentence and received a side eyed glance in response, "I need to tell you something and you're totally not allowed to freak out while you're driving."

Y/M's eyes widened and her grip tightened around the steering wheel, her daughters very rarely confided in her. While she knew her youngest was safe in her promiscuity, neither of Y/M Robins' girls ever shared their secrets so for the most part she took finding out into her own hands.

"Honey," The forty four year old's calm tone was hardly comforting to the teenager, "if this is about you and Archie fooling around, your father and I figured that out a long time ago, like so long ago. Who do you think does your laundry? When your underwear starting looking like dental floss, we caught on pretty quickly."

Y/N felt like a deer in headlights, "Mum, what the hell?" Her cheeks heated to an inhuman temperature.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, as long as you're being safe and he's-"

"For the second time today, and I can't believe I'm saying this to you, but I am not having sex with Archie Andrews!" Y/N's high pitched voice sounded through the car. It truly was a blessing and a curse to have such open minded parents in situations like this. She thought about telling her mother the truth, but Y/M was a blabber mouth as well as a gossip, so Y/N chose to withhold certain pieces of information.

The Robins matriarch dropped the subject but didn't forget about her daughter's tone, and continued to ramble on about how odd she found Penelope Blossom and the whole Blossom family in general. "Like why on Earth is Rose in a wooden wheelchair? They know it's the twenty first century, right?"

As expected, the Robins household was once again filled with warm laughter and copious amounts of food. The topic of Jason was skimmed over, and Y/S found herself away from the dinner table. The eldest Robins sibling was currently pleading with Alice as she began shoving all of Polly's belongings in the boot of Hal's car. She couldn't comprehend life without her best friend, not after losing Jason. They were meant to be going travelling together for a year- working the worst jobs and staying up all night to watch the sun rise in different countries. But instead, Y/S's eyes were blinded by tears as she screamed down the street at the speeding car, with Polly Cooper taken out of her life indefinitely.

Y/N was oblivious to the dark inner workings of the Cooper clan, Betty's knowledge about her and Archie unbeknownst to the loved up teens. She'd spent every second not occupied by her internship trying to justify the romantic act as a fleeting moment of loneliness fuelled by alcohol. She wrote in her diary ideas on how she could win Archie back over, not knowing it was in fact, too late. Betty found herself hopelessly in love with the boy next door, unfortunately for her, the girl across the road was the only one his mind found.

Archie and Y/N washed up while their parents resided to the living room with three glasses and a bottle of white wine. The short girl turned the tap off after placing the last utensil on the draining board, flicking her sudsy hands at the boy's face. "What the-"

She didn't give him a chance to finish that thought, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his torso- planting a kiss onto his lips, then cheeks, then forehead. The two fell entranced by each other, planting pecks across nape of her neck and top of his head.

"Son," Fred's voice called out from the next room and the two immediately pulled apart, hearts beating in their ears, "we're going in a minute."

"Alright." He replied, placing his girlfriend on the floor once more.

"I wish you'd stay." Y/N pouted childishly, she meant the words entirely but hated feeling overbearing. Her life had been turned upside down this summer, it started off with her unable to fall asleep with another person next to her- now Archie's chest was her most comfortable pillow and is arms were the warmest blanket.

"Tomorrow night instead, Princess? I promised my dad I'd spend more time with him before senior year." The boy reasoned, holding her close and unknowingly feeling the exact same way, he adored holding her by her waist and pulling her close under the duvet.

"Monopoly night at yours?" She grinned and he nodded back in reply, the two sharing a final kiss in the kitchen before walking into the hallway.

Y/N felt at ease as she wished the two a goodnight and headed up to bed. She took off her tea dress and replaced it with Archie's bulldog t-shirt, managing to reach the same length on her thighs as her dress did.

Arch 🧡

I can still smell your perfume on my sheets

Tiger 💛

Marking my territory obviously x

Arch 🧡

I love it

Hope you sleep well baby x

Tiger 💛

Call me that tomorrow and we won't be sleeping so you better rest up tonight x

Arch 🧡

Whatever you say, baby x

Tiger 💛

Goodnight x

Arch 🧡

Night princess x

part eight?

wanna be tagged? just send in an ask x

#fanfic #fanfiction #riverdale #archie andrews #archie x reader #archie andrews x reader #archie #Riverdale imagine #riverdale fluff #riverdale smut #riverdale imagines #archie imagine #fluff #smut

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agathasangel · 3 years

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leave everything behind but me- part 4 (diane sherman x reader) (NSFW moment)

warnings: same as before, stalking (like full on irl stalking as well as online), drugging, some talk of emotional/physical abuse in this one, death mention. this whole fic is just kinda dark... sorry. Also brief nsfw moment.

summary: this part is from Diane’s perspective. as she looks for her neurotoxin ingredients in a panic, she reflects on how she came into contact with you in the first place, and all the highs and lows of your relationship up to this point.

where the hell are they? thought Diane, looking for the last, most important ingredient in her neurotoxin.

She couldn’t believe it had come to this again. Just like with Chloe.

Diane wondered where Chloe was, what she was doing. About five years ago, with an excellent defense lawyer, she managed to get out of jail for what she had done. She looked far and wide for her stolen daughter, who seemed to be nowhere to be found. She still worried about what became of Chloe, but knew she was probably doing alright. And one day, Diane found a new obsession by the name of (y/n).

It was nearly two years ago now. Diane was beginning to give up on finding Chloe, after three full years of searching anywhere and everywhere with no luck. But she did find something else.

She was staying at a hotel in California, near the hospital where she gave birth to Chloe, in the vain hope that maybe, just maybe, Chloe would be around.

Diane didn’t find Chloe, but she found something else from her past. Her college reunion was being held in the exact hotel she was staying at. She didn’t plan on attending, but then she came face-to-face with her college rival. This woman was the only person who did better in her classes than Diane. Not only that, but she had multitudes of friends, boyfriends, you name it, while Diane had no one. The woman never let Diane forget how much better she was either. It wasn’t the worst thing Diane had ever been through, not by a long shot, but it was a disappointment for sure. College was supposed to be the place where Diane could finally feel like she belonged, and she always resented this rival of hers.

“Diane! We didn’t think you were coming! Oh here, have a seat!” said the woman.

“I’m so sorry about Roger. It was such a shock to hear about.”, she continued, reminding Diane of her dead husband

“Yeah, I still can’t say I’m over it, all these years later.”

“Yeah when the love of your life just drops dead like that, you never get over it, do you?”, she said, far louder than Diane would have liked.

“Can we please talk about something else?”

“Of course, I’m so sorry, Diane, I know it must be so hard for you!”

“Yeah. Um... what’s your family like?”

“Well we have one daughter. Her name is (y/n), and she’s a senior in High School,” said the woman. She then leaned into Diane and said, “But can I be honest? I never exactly wanted kids. Never liked them. I thought it would change when I had her but it didn’t. She’s so... difficult.”

Diane’s blood absolutely boiled hearing this, but she managed to keep a polite face, “But that’s your child. Don’t you love her?”

“There are some good things about her, I guess. I do love her in my own way, but I can’t help but feel disappointed. She’s just not what I thought she’d be. I’m sorry, I thought you may understand. I never get to vent my frustrations about her.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t understand. But, do you, um, by any chance have a picture of her?”

“On my phone, somewhere. Let me look.”

After a while, she found a picture of (y/n). It was fairly recent photo of you at a restaurant, at what looked like a dinner with the whole family. You looked sad and lost, but Diane thought you looked sweet.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” said the woman, almost stifling a laugh, as if there was no way Diane could have meant that.

“I’m sorry, I need to go to the bathroom.” said Diane, as she was starting to turn red in anger and the woman.

“I’ll join you, I need to freshen up a bit.”

“Fine.”

So Diane walked straight into a stall while the other woman followed. Diane started to cry, so angry at this awful woman. She had a child, a beautiful, sweet, girl who was alive, for God’s sake. Diane would kill for what she has, in fact she had killed for it before. But this woman didn’t care about her child, she didn’t appreciate you one bit.

She didn’t deserve you.

Then she heard the woman get into the stall next to her and she decided to leave. But the woman left her purse on the sink. Diane looked into her purse and found everything. All her information was in her wallet, and she took pictures of her address, phone number, and credit card numbers, as well as a couple of photos of you and your father. Diane quickly threw the last photo back into her purse as she heard her enemy get up, and she ran away, all the way back up to her room.

Diane looked at the photos, and started to look for your social media. You didn’t seem to post very often, or have many friends. Most of your photos were of you by yourself, or pretty things you took pictures of, and even a couple of sad poems you wrote. Poetry written by teenagers was usually laughably bad, but hers made Diane cry. She saw herself in you.

Poor little thing, Diane thought. She needs some love. But I can do that for her.

Diane spent about a month following you and your parents around, without any of you even noticing her presence. One day she snuck into their house and bugged it, so that there were feeds of different rooms streaming to her computer at all times.

Diane noticed you spent most of your time alone. You wrote in a journal a lot, and cried fairly often, hugging a teddy bear you had. You just seemed so burnt out from stress from school, stress from your job, pressure from your parents. You fought with both of her parents often. Well... fight wasn’t the right word. Usually, one parent would yell at you and insult you, and you would choose to either take it or not take it.

There was one particular instance where you snapped at your father, telling him how he abandoned you so many times. He didn’t take this well, screaming all kinds of insults. How Diane wished she could hold you, rock you, comfort you and tell you that aren’t any of the terrible things your father told you, and that she’s sorry that you never felt good enough.

Diane snuck into (y/n)’s graduation, too. She knew she couldn’t contact you yet, but she got so much happiness out of just seeing this milestone of your life. All you did was walk across the stage and take your diploma, but Diane beamed with pride for you as you did it.

After graduation, your parents were constantly threatening to kick you out, and the fights got worse, they crying got worse. Diane wished she was there, comforting you, holding you and giving you all the love that your parents didn’t. Diane looked for a window of opportunity into this girl’s life until she found the perfect one. You had put out an ad on facebook for anyone on the east coast looking for a roommate, and Diane put her plan into action. She made a fake account on facebook pretending to be a college girl named “Anna Johnson” and responded to the ad, starting to talk to and getting friendly with you. “Anna” suggested that you take a bus trip and offered to pay the fare, but you refused because you wanted to earn the money yourself. Diane’s heart warmed at your sweet messages, even though they were to “Anna” and not her. “I’ve never had as good a friend as you before”, “Who needs a mom when I have you giving me such great advice?”, “You’re the best!”, every little message that you sent to Diane made her fall more and more in love. Diane bought a little house on the East Coast with the money she got from selling her old house, and hoped everything will fall into place in her new life with (y/n).

Now during the bus trip, Diane needed to follow you closely in her silver minivan, and make sure not to lose track of you during layovers either. Her detour into the coffee shop scared her at first, but once Diane found you, it was the perfect opportunity to finally, after all these months of dreaming, meet you face-to-face. Her new little baby girl, finally. Diane slipped a powdered sleeping pill into her already tired girl’s coffee to make you even more sleepy and suggestible, getting you to come with her to her hotel room.

Back in the present, Diane found the rest of the powdered sleeping pills as she was searching through her medicine cabinet and closet. She got so distracted thinking about you, and all the horribly wrong things she had done to you.

It’s for her own good, all of it. She needs to be protected, she’s too pure for this world, to good, too sweet...

Diane searched through the drugs she had given you, thinking of all the best times the two of you have had.

The first day Diane had been with you in the little house was heaven on earth. Finally Diane had everything she’s been working for for almost a year now right there, in her arms. Diane wanted to give you everything you didn’t believe you deserved. The only catch was that you belonged to Diane, and Diane alone.

She got a job teaching Chemistry at the local High School fairly easily, as she had extensive knowledge (even more extensive than she may have let on in her interview), of the subject, and the school district was completely desperate for competent science teachers. Diane found faking the background check easy, she used her maiden name and an incorrect date of birth and they didn’t ask her about her arrest at all. And now she had her new life set up. A house that she owned, a job to put food on the table, and you.

The next best day for Diane was the day you finally kissed her. Diane was starting to fall in love with you in a more romantic, even a more sexual way, but didn’t know if you felt the same way about her. Then, during one of your movie nights, you kissed Diane, and she felt overjoyed. She kissed you back and finally led you to the bed and fucked you, like she had been thinking about doing every night at this point but was too scared to actually initiate until now. She was in love with the feeling she got from kissing you, from pleasing you. It had been so long since Diane had been this intimate with anyone, and she was your first. And it was a real awakening for the both of you.

It felt so good, you felt so good. This relationship you had was so incredibly wrong in so many ways, but it just felt so right.

Why did it have to change?

Of course, there were still some hard moments. Even Diane admitted that there were times when she could be irrationally possessive of you, getting angry when someone even looks at you the wrong way. She knew that her possessive, obsessive attitude could scare you, and you would even blame yourself for it, but she didn’t know how to stop. She knew that you were getting scared she would become more difficult to please, like all the other people that have been in your life.

Or the times that you would cry, and it happened so often. You would get sad and Diane would hold you and tell you:

“It’s ok baby, you’re here now, you’re with me. I love you more than life itself. You’re gonna be okay, my little angel.”

One night Diane woke up to you crying into your pillow, and immediately grabbed you.

“What’s wrong, baby? What happened?”

“I- I was afraid that you might- that- one day- you might not want me anymore... what would happen if you d-don’t want me....”

“Listen, I will never not want you. You are all I have, remember? And you’re all I need. Come here, that’s right. You’re my baby, all mine.. shhh....”

Or, there was the time you asked about the scars on Diane’s back. She was mortified, but finally told you about her terrible childhood. The horrible abuse from her mother until her death, the foster home, everything. Her desperation to become the mother she never had. You hugged her tight.

“I’m so sorry, Diane, I had no idea... and to think I complained about-”

“Baby, don’t compare your life to mine. All that matters now is that it’s you and me, and I need to take care of you.”

“Sometimes I think I should be the one taking care of you, Diane.”

“Trust me baby, you do so much more for me than you think.”

Then Diane found it. The rest of the paint thinner. And she was ready to take away all your sadness once and for all, and make you hers forever.

#my fics #sarah paulson x reader #diane sherman x reader #diane sherman #sarah paulson #sarah paulson fics

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queenofspades6 · 4 years

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More than partners - The Mandalorian x reader

Chapter 10 of More than Partners

Daraasum

Summary: You and Din finally admitted your feelings for each other, and you show the Mandalorian how much you love him.

Warnings: Smut. Explicit. Nsfw.

AN: This is the last chapter of More than partners. I loved writing this story and I was anxious to write that last chapter! This story will be continued after the season 2 of the Mandalorian comes out, tell me if you want to be tagged when it comes out! I’d love to know if you liked this last chapter! Feedback is always welcome! Thank you to everyone! And thank you to my Mandalorian expert-who’ll recognize himself- for the last word Daraasum that means forever. (If you have some time, go check my brand new poetry account where I really want to put thoughts and quotes I wrote that give me meaning : lf-quotes it would be wonderful if you check it! Thank you!

———

———

On the way back to Sorgan’s village, you were walking beside the Mandalorian, your cheeks flushed and a huge smile on your lips.

Din Djarin had feelings for you. It was real. You weren’t only the Child’s babysitter or just a play he could use sometimes, it was something more...

You needed to admit you were frightened to give in to your feelings and love the Mandalorian but, you knew without him, your life would have no meaning. He gave you purpose, and you offered him, love.

“Y/N, are you alright?”Mando questioned seeing you frowning. “Yes! Sorry, I was lost in thoughts.”

The Mandalorian’s gaze was still on you, and you felt your cheeks getting red. You turned your head trying to hide your embarrassment. Feeling a soft fabric against your right hand, you looked up. Mando was caressing your hand with his gloved fingers, his eyes still on you. His touch was rough, but at the same time soft. He was trying to do his best despite his sudden shyness. Mando refused to have a partner in his life. Until you, and he was terrified to lose something he never thought he would be worthy of. For so long, he thought it was forbidden, so he locked his heart and hid behind his heavy helmet, praying nobody would see through his facade. But you saw him long ago. You were the only one looking at him with stars in your eyes.

Mando’s hand suddenly found yours and squeezed it. He knew how scared you must have been. Love was new for both of you, and unfortunately, it didn’t come with a manual.

“Come on, we need to reach the barn before night.”The Mandalorian whispered, holding your hand with a firm grip.

It was pleasant to walk with such proximity with Din, feeling sometimes him breathing even though he had his helmet on, or sensing him shivering with the cold of the night. Everybody would have believed it was only small things, but for you, it was more. The Mandalorian showed you another side of him. He showed you the real Din Djarin, the one who cared, and chose to keep and protect the Child no matter the cost.

Most people would have been bothered by the silence between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. No words were needed for now. Only hands holding, and the fear of loving.

When you reached the barn which was your supposed bedroom with Mando and the Child, you noticed Omega waiting at the entrance. Immediately, without thinking, you and the Mandalorian let go of each other’s hand. As if it was a crime to hold hands with someone you love. Though, Omega stared at you wide-eyed, looking between you and the bounty hunter in wonder.

“You were waiting for us?”Mando questioned, breaking the awkward silence.

With a bleached face, Omega looked up and tried to articulate something.

“Humm... I-I Your dinners are served, I put it on the table.”She murmured, not daring to glance at the Mandalorian.

“And the-”

“The Child is playing with my daughter. Don’t worry, someone is looking after them.”

Mando nodded before thanking her.

“I am heading inside, Mando. I am very tired.”You muttered, caressing his clothed shoulder in front of the astonished gaze of Omega.

The bounty hunter acquiesced and you swore you heard him hold back his breath. With a satisfied smile, you wished Omega a wonderful night before entering the barn.

You should have been jealous of Omega, but for the first time, you were not. You were a Jedi with a force-sensitive Child, and Mando had feelings for you. You couldn’t hope for more.

Exhaling, you sat down on the edge of your bed in the barn. Two plates were waiting for you and the Mandalorian on the small table. You smiled to yourself when you noticed how your plate looked so different from Mando’s. Omega had done her best with Mando’s while yours was just not aesthetic at all. At this thought, you laughed, it was so childish of her.

“Why are you laughing?”Mando asked, his head tilted in wonder.

“It’s nothing.”

The bounty hunter imitated you, sitting on the edge of the bed, the helmet’s visor on you. You stared at each other for some minutes, as if you were both waiting for something.

“Din.”You broke the silence.

“Y/N.”

You grinned.

“You weren't lying about what you told me in the woods before, were you?”

You heard the Mandalorian giggled.

“Did I seem like lying about such a thing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”You whispered, placing one of your locks of hair behind your ear.

To your surprise, Mando stood up, pulled the curtains, and closed the light.

“Mando?”You questioned, an ounce of worry betraying your voice.

“I am here, Y/N.”

You felt his ungloved hand on yours, while his other hand was tracing the skin of your arm.

“Din?”

“Tell me if you want to stop.”He muttered with his modulated voice.

“I don’t want you to stop.” You replied, focusing on his slow touch, and your body trembling before his fingers.

Din’s fingers traveled down your arm, circling the skin with an atrocious softness, and when you felt his fingers on your hand, you closed your eyes, mesmerized by his hypnotic touch.

And then, you heard something unexpected. The sound of a helmet removed.

“Din. You can’t.”You whispered, suddenly placing your hands in front of your eyes.

“I can, and I will.”He answered, with his voice, not his mechanical one.

“But... but what about your Creed? What about the Mandalorian? You can’t show me your face.”

“I’ll always remain a Mandalorian. It is who I am. But I am also more than just a Mandalorian. I am still a man. You are the one who made me remember what it is to be human.”He murmured, his voice trembling as if these words had been hanging in his mouth for months. ”And the light is closed, you won’t be able to see my entire face.”

“But Din. I can still see your forehead, your hair, I can still perceive your eyes and your lips.”

“Good. I don’t want you to forget my face.”

You smiled, and felt his fingers on your lips, tracing it slowly, while you could catch a glimpse of his eyes. Feeling a rush of confidence, you ran a hand through his brown hair, bringing his face closer to yours. You could decipher the form of his eyes even if the light was closed and the night was falling. You felt Din’s face getting closer to yours. Fear and adrenaline rushed through your body, but you leaned on nonetheless. When you sensed his breathing on your nose, you smiled. Omera could never have that. And then, the bounty hunter’s lips were on yours, his hands found your hips, and he started to kiss you deeper, enjoying the taste of your lips.

Your tongues were entangled with each other, each one fighting for dominance over the one. You felt the Mandalorian smiling while kissing you, and it made you happy. It wasn’t a dream and Mando wasn’t faking it.

His hands traveled down your shirt, and then on your bra, unclipping it, and still caressing the skin. You tried to undress him, but with the beskar of his armor, it wasn’t an easy task. The Mandalorian laughed as you struggled to understand how to remove it. He waited a bit, and when he noticed you losing your patience, he dropped his beskar on the floor, and removed his shirt, revealing his warm skin.

“That’s way better.”You breathed.

Taking advantage of the fact he wasn’t expecting you to surprise him, you pinned him on your bed and climbed on him, and straddled him roughly. He laughed, and you began to kiss his neck, licking and sucking the skin at times before leaving a trail of kisses on his torso and his lower stomach. The Mandalorian let out a breathless moan that made you smile. Unexpectedly, Din pinned you on the bed and straddled you this time.

“Din! That’s not funny!”

To hush you, he kissed your lips, and lifted your shirt over your head, removing your bra at the same time. Your chest was bare and your hair stood on end with the cold of the night. You felt a warm finger circling one of your tits while another hand was stroking your other breast softly.

“Is this alright?”Din muttered. “Yes.”

The Mandalorian didn’t wait any further to suck on your breasts, being as gentle as he could to make you feel pleasured and cared for. You let out a moan, and the bounty hunter slowly began to kiss your stomach, and then your lower stomach, before reaching your trousers.

Once they were removed, Din fondled your panties with a hand, still straddling you. The feeling made you roll your hips, and you swore you could feel him becoming harder. You could feel the hard bulge between your legs, making you wetter. The Mandalorian noticed the effect his bulge had on you, and began to brush himself against your panties while caressing your hips. It felt so pleasant, you couldn’t help but moan, letting him know how much you wanted him.

“Din. I want you, please.”You commanded in an authoritative tone that made him smirk in anticipation.

“I didn’t know the Jedi were known to be so impatient.”He said, trying to remove his trousers and boxers as fast as possible.

When he was naked, he sat on the bed and caressed your thigh. “You are so beautiful, Y/N. I can’t bear you with another man.”

You felt your heart beating faster, and you kissed Din. He slowly removed your panties and made his way down your stomach, his breath teasing your inner thighs.

“Din, please.”You asked.

He began to fondle your pussy, driving you crazy with the wait before taking a few licks, making you moan louder than expected. The Mandalorian wanted you to feel good, he wanted to show you how much he cared about you. He licked your wetness, and then sucked on your clit, making you whimper at the pleasurable feeling. Rolling your hips, you tried to push his head deeper in you with your hands through his hair.

The Mandalorian looked up and kissed your lips, making you taste yourself on his lips. You fondled your cock with your hand, trying to make him understand you want to make him feel pleasured too, but he wouldn’t let you.

“It’s not about my pleasure tonight, Y/N, it’s about us. Us only.”

You nodded obediently, while he was positioning himself on top of you. You sensed his tip at your entrance. You desperately wanted to roll your hips to feel him against you, and yet, you didn’t yield into temptation.

“Din... Are you sure about this?”You questioned, hoping he wouldn’t regret what he was about to do.

“I have never been so sure of anything in my life, cyar'ika.”

You smiled, and slowly felt him pushing in. Din forced a bit while kissing you, and then, you sensed him pushing into you further. You whined at the sudden sensation, while he began to thrust into you slowly at first, and then faster. He moaned between your lips, and went deeper, hitting a certain spot inside you, making you cry out of pleasure.

“That’s it, Y/N. That’s it.” He said with labored breathing while the sound of skin slapping filled the barn.

Slowly, his thrusts began to be more erratic while you were almost reaching your orgasm.

“Din.”You whimpered.

”Come for me, cyar’ika.”

And you did. You moaned while the Mandalorian was still thrusting inside of you, and then with a guttural grunt, he came too, inside you. Going down, Din laid down next to you, his eyes staring at you.

“What?”You questioned, feeling his lingering gaze on your face.

“You are beautiful, Y/N.”

You giggled, and he stroked your hair, while you studied his face.

You stared at the man you loved deeply, the one for whom you would have sacrificed yourself multiple times, the one for whom you would have given all.

“I love you, Din.”You whispered, anxiety in your voice.

The bounty hunter smiled and caressed your face with his fingers.

“I love you too, cyar’ika. More than I wanted to admit.”

You smirked and asked, still worried about the future. Your future together.

“What now, Din?”

“Now, we focus on the present. We’ll find a safe place for the Child and us to be together.”

“Together? I am more than the Child’s babysitter now, and we are more than partners, right?”You tried to reassure yourself.

“Of course, cyar’ika. We’re more than partners. Partners don’t make love in a barn in the middle of nowhere with a Child.”

You laughed together, and intertwined your fingers with his.

“We should really go look for the Child. He needs to eat.”Din stated, worried about his little youngling.

You nodded and kissed him again on the lips.

“Din?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“What does “cyar’ika” means?”You asked, frowning.

You saw him paused and hesitated.

“It means my beloved, my darling.”

“Really?”You questioned, a small smile appearing on your lips.

The Mandalorian acquiesced, and you got closer to him to kiss him deeply.

“I’ll be your cyar’ika as long as you want, Din.”

“Darasuum.” Forever

*****

⬇️ Chapter 11 ⬇️

@lol-who-am-i @kiaralein @kryttlebee @jedi-dreea @katialvi @hoodedbirdie @heaven77 @eyeliveinabook @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @mitamixer @fleurdemiel145 @pinkninja190 @esoltis280

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prose-for-hire · 3 years

Text

Love, Hate, Love: Part two

Part One // Part Three

Pairing: Spike x fem!vamp!reader

Request: Spike and the reader really dislike each other until she recalls his human "identity". They were best friends as kids and wrote poetry together and upon remembering this their perception of each other begins to shift. This is part two of three.

Originally requested by: @therapieliteratur

A/N: Head’s up: The timeframe is switched up a bit, Angel left earlier and Spike stayed in Sunnydale since like Lover’s walk or something. It’s vaguely set in season 3 but with very little season 3 written about.

You smiled, skipping through the tall grass. Your best Sunday dress was starched rigid. Binding. But you had not wished to change, anticipation getting the better of you.

You were going to meet him again. It was a youthful love, you had only been a teenager. It was three, maybe four years before your death. Aged twenty.

The summer was uncharacteristically warm. Your eyes viewed this dream in sepia.

There he was. Your love. He averted his gaze as soon as you approached. He did this every time. He was shy, with a poet’s heart. You had always been the more confident one. He had caught your eye, he had been in awe of you growing up. Watching you from afar.

Ever since he could remember, his eyes had only been for you.

You had started to meet this way. Stolen moments. You sat under that large oak tree, on the hill. You could see for miles from up there, but your entire world was right there beside you both.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to meet him this way, you knew it. People would talk. But your hearts had sung when you were together. You sneaked glances at each other, your faces bathing in sunlight.

God, you missed the sunlight. Those youthful eyes transfixed on your own. Sparkling in the hazy afternoon sunlight.

You both wrote poetry, that had been how your minds connected. With your hearts following. You were well-educated for the time and he adored that your wit matched his own. That he had someone that could appreciate beauty and every other emotion you could find in nature. In life. Even in death.

You hid the last one close to your chests. It was macabre and others may have laughed. Others did laugh. When you spoke of life and love and death.

You had been viewed as outcasts but nothing mattered when you were together. When you had affirmations of his blossoming love.

Oh, you wrote such poetry. Together you could change the direction that the Earth would turn. Your love, your sweet and undying affections could stop the world on its very axis. You often read aloud. Your own work and others. You gushed over the others beautiful prose.

But this day, this one was special.

He had asked you to marry him that day. Through his carefully thought-out poem. You were both young, but there was no question in your mind. You had known him since you were a child. Your love growing from childlike friendship to subtle affection, before weaving into this unquestionable love. The foundations of your adoration so solid. There was no doubt in your mind.

This thought stuck with you, in your dream. You remember it now. This was a memory, no mere dream.

His love had made you weep like a baby. You could feel the salty tears welling, threatening to spill over your cheeks. Your hand grasped his, so tight.

Yes.

This was his turn for tears to well.

You were just smiling at each other now. You leaned in, initiating this. He had been anxiously awaiting this moment. Had written of it over feverishly. And you felt this now, where you hadn’t in reality. You felt his emotions, knowing they were pure. A pure love.

Your lips met, in a sweet kiss. It was simple and quick, but it was new to you both. Your lips barely grazed his and you found yourself instantly wanting more.

But, you pulled back to look at him. I mean, really looked at him.

Your decades rushed back to you. The wisdom of your age, all you had seen. Growing out of your naivety and the promise of this sweet matrimony. The wedding that never was.

You suddenly recognised him. You knew who was looking back. And you noticed he was doing the same thing. Scanning your face, trying to recall more of this forgotten youthful romance. This innocent love you had shared.

Something shifted as the penny dropped. The recognition. A storm started around you, one that had never occurred on that day. It had been a happy day, you hadn’t known what was to come.

You both started to be pulled in opposite directions.

You tried to cling to him, your hands grasping for him and he reached out. Trying to take your hand. You screamed, being pulled out of the dream backwards.

You recognised that look in his eye. Those crystal blue eyes that had seen you with such favour in your youth. Was the man, no, vampire you now detested.

And you knew it was him. Really him. He was dreaming the same thing. You didn’t know how, but you did.

You woke up with a start. You sat up instantly in bed, breathing heavily despite there being no need. You ran your hand through your hair in disbelief.

Oh no. Oh, God, no.

Don’t let it be him.

It stung. That your only true love could be the root of your current hate. This man, this infuriating man who stood for everything you now fought against.

Oh, you hated him so. For making you feel this way. All these contradictions weaved into the crumbs of affection that were starting to surround you. Leading you to a path you hadn’t travelled since. It was overgrown now, your heart protected by thorned bushes. By barbed wire and electric fencing.

You had let nobody in the same since. Had hidden yourself away, made yourself more reserved. Especially since regaining your soul.

Dreams are funny things. Sometimes abstract. Often a reflection of your subconscious. And apparently, today, they were shared memories of a lifetime ago. You hadn’t even thought about until it all came rushing to the surface that day.

Neither of you knew why now. Why had your minds hidden such glorious moments of your youth?

Of course, you both knew the answer. It was too painful. To remember what happened. The love. The loss.

At the same moment as you, he woke up with a start. His hand still outstretched for you as if he could have pulled you back out of that dream with him. Back into his bed, the way he had dreamed of having you all those years ago.

Oh no. Oh, God, no.

Don’t let it be her.

“Anybody but bloody her” He muttered, pulling the covers from his body in disdain and stalking towards his mini-fridge to get out some blood.

He hated thinking about who he had once been. William. He could barely remember much of that life anymore. He had consciously ignored that part of himself. But now it was all he could think of.

You. Oh God, how he had adored you. He couldn’t recall even now feeling as elated as he had when you had agreed. That summer’s afternoon. Sneaking around after and finding places to kiss you. To hold you.

Stupid, lovesick idiot. That was all he had even thought to do at the time.

His mind swam with such contradictory thoughts. Of course he had tried to reach for you, yesterday. To comfort you. Because you were her. God, he hated you for that.

You both spent that night walking directionless through your own memories. Ones that only now had been unlocked again. It was painful, bittersweet.

The gnawing realisation that your hearts were tugging you closer towards the other was ignored. Pushed away.

You couldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Not again.

You were sat in the demon bar. You had steered well clear for a few weeks but there really was nothing like drowning guilt, sorrow and now a fixation on a vampire you had thought you hated like drinking alcohol beside demons that loathed you as much as you loathed yourself.

And, of course, just as you ordered your drink he arrived.

You caught each other’s eye briefly. Both snapping your gaze away immediately once the other met your eye. He didn’t make a beeline towards you straight away like he usually would. You didn’t keep an eye on him to make sure he wasn’t doing anything stupid this time. You wouldn’t dare let him see you looking.

It had been every day since last you saw each other. The same, or similar dreams. Of your youth. Your love. It was hard to face someone after that.

After a long while of arguing with his own mind, he moved to look at you. His silent strength (that you had loved about him) now showing. He would have to study your face, he couldn’t not. He had to check that it was you.

He sighed, taking a massive gulp from his drink. You were so different. Not in appearance but in character. You looked almost broken now. Melancholia pumped through your heart rather than blood. He could tell, his heart almost ached, knowing you were wracked by guilt or whatever it was that happened when vampires gained souls.

You looked up, glaring at him before dropping your look to your drink despite it never doing anything to you. He couldn’t not say anything. What had once been a quiet courage was now a bolder one.

“Oh, look it’s the Slayer’s pet. She loosened the leash tonight, did she? Let you walk around all by yourself?” He prodded. But his heart wasn’t in it, you could hear his usual amusement was failing him tonight. You stayed silent hoping he would just go. For very different reasons than from your last interaction.

You had been exhausted last time, indifferent.

Now it was because it was starting to mean too much. Hurt too much to look at him.

“Pet?” He asked, knowing you didn’t like it. Usually made you talk to him when he called you that. You just continued to stare into your drink, but words started to form in your mouth. A way you wouldn’t speak anymore.

“My heart is leaden, to my grave the thoughts do beckon.” You recited the line from memory. A memory you hadn’t been aware of until recently. You didn’t look up from your drink, you were aching. Guilt and sorrow and him.

His eyes widened, he knew those words. It was you. It had only ever been you.

He couldn’t stop the words that left his mouth, the desperate grasping at the past, “Y-you saw it too, didn’t you?” He pressed. His voice wavered and his jaw tensed at his own nature. His eyes willed you to agree, willed you to show him that you hadn’t changed beyond repair. Hadn’t hardened the way he never thought you could.

“I don’t know what you mean” You said shortly, getting up and downing your drink before moving to walk away.

He swung you around to face him. Your fist clenched expecting a fight. But there was no more fight. You just stared at each other, feeling the proximity more intimately than you ever had before.

Your faces started to soften and you felt it. Because his touch was now reminding you of how he had held you. Stolen kisses and silent confessions of affection. Handwritten love notes and poetry that would make you fall deeper in love. Sunkissed faces and those freckles he used to get when the summer was particularly warm.

Oh God you just wanted to lean in and kiss him and now he was feeling exactly the same. Your minds fought against the embrace.

He dropped your arm as if it was white-hot. Scolding him. As if he couldn’t bear it.

It hurt you both. Stung. His action. You were both in your own heads though. Your minds in turmoil, a tsunami of your own making.

You hated that it was the other. You hated that your hearts had started to hope. You hated that a part of you would easily trade in everything to be back in your dreams. Or to really be back there. Together.

How could it be him? How could that beautiful man, with that beautiful heart, be him. The killer of slayers. The evil, big bad that tried to kill the only people that had been kind to you since you moved here.

How could it be her? How could that once confident, glowing woman be you. The miserable, brooding souled vampire. The one that shone with arrogant self-righteousness. Tried to be good.

Without a word you just walked away from each other. No fight. No subtle jabs at the others opposing nature.

Words failed you now, but your minds spun. Such discordant unending lines of jarring poetry. Cut and spliced together. Love and hate and hope and dread.

It was all-consuming.

Because neither of you were so sure that you were these opposites. Not anymore.

The next day you were sat in the Sunnydale school library. It was a lot different from the education you remember. For the better, you decided.

You were supposed to be lending your expertise, what with the age and knowledge of the demon you were facing this week. But you weren’t really contributing.

You could get quiet sometimes and Angel had warned them not to press you too much about it, understanding why. But you weren’t usually like this. You didn’t brood like Angel did, but you were very obviously troubled by your past.

The group had taken you in, they were fond of you. You had lived through most of their troubles already so you gave them advice when you could. Even with Giles, you offered assistance that he took gratefully. You were the one vampire with a soul he could actually rely on after what happened with Angelus last year.

You were staring at a book as if it were written in gibberish. You were like a statue, you weren’t breathing or blinking.

“What’s up with spooky the soul-haver?” Xander whispered, as if you couldn’t hear it. The boy thought you would have a romance like Buffy and Angel’s. You told him otherwise. He was working on accepting it. Still.

“She’s been having dreams” Willow shrugged, it was all she could get out of you. Buffy looked up, slightly worried. She knew Angel had struggled with visions and bad dreams.

“Spooky can totally hear the human gremlins when they speak words” You muttered and Xander went red, and the others’ eyes scattered away from you which made you half-smile. You began to explain a quick excuse but you were quickly cut off.

“Don’t wig, it’s so far beyond nothing-”

“Slayer!” A familiar voice shouted, “Slayer, come out and face me!”

He had become tired of hiding in the shadows. Since Dru left. He wanted to beat the Slayer. Do something to take his mind off you. He slammed his hand on the walls as he stalked along looking for her.

Everyone shared a look and Buffy took the nearest weapon to her, a sword, and sped off through the corridors to find him before he ran into a teacher who had stayed behind to catch up on their lesson plans.

Both fought, hard. Trading blows with Buffy nicking his skin with the sword. You uncharacteristically stayed to the side.

It was equally matched until Buffy held his shoulder, he had cast an eye towards you. She took the chance and slid the hilt deep into his torso. He groaned in pain. You felt it as if she had struck you herself. You clutched your own body, where the wound was on his.

She didn’t stake him, as if he weren’t worth it. Merely warning him to give up. Buffy turned, satisfied and the others began walking away. Leaving him wounded, his knees buckled and he was on the floor.

All you could think was that he was hurt.

“William!” You shouted without thinking. It was him, no matter what had happened since. It was him.

Your mask had slipped. He saw those kind eyes. You used to look after him, the one that would try to fight any of the bullies of your youth. He had held you back more than once, fearing you would get a reputation. For being improper. And he, for being laughable. Emasculated.

“Didn’t think you cared, sweet” He said, his tone still hard. So different from the lyrical assurances he would whisper in your ear. But the moniker gave him away. Sweet.

He had always called you that. His sweet.

“I-I don’t…” You lied. This was the first time you understood properly that those feelings hadn’t been lost in your youth. They had been hidden. Repressed. Because it was so painful. There had always been something missing, only now you realised.

Losing his favour had been more painful than your own death.

William was waiting at the chapel, the entire day was thick with humidity. The skies grey and threatening to spill.

You had chosen an intimate service. Something that was yours. Just you and those that would witness the union. You would leave your hometown and make a life together. Away from the hard eyes and cruel tongues.

“Oh, I am the very spirit of vexation! Where is my wife to be?” William paced, the sun was starting to set. Darkness settling in.

“She will be timely, do not fret” the vicar spoke with assurance but he was concerned.

Time spun. It slowed and started to stop, dying as his hope did. You never came. He waited into the evening but you never arrived.

He wept, his heart broken and leaking. Salt water rubbing into the wound. Unimaginable pain. He ran. Sobs echoing around the empty chapel.

#Spike x reader #Spike btvs #Spike #Spike x you #Spike imagine #btvs #btvs x reader #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #female reader #female #x reader #btvs x you #btvs imagine

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ukulelecal · 3 years

Text

Bloom - Part One

The story of flowers.

Pairing: Poet!Luke Hemmings x Female!OC

Warnings: angst!!!! implied smut. perhaps a swear or two. mostly angst

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: can yall believe that this video sent me so feral that i wrote this whole lil mini series in like five days?? i'm not surprised tbh. ANYWAY omg i really am excited for y'all to read this!!! i hope you love it!!! i would love your feedback, and please please remember that reblogs mean the absolute world to creators!

series masterlist

masterlist // posted on ao3

Devon would never forget the first poem Luke wrote for her.

He was a blushing mess as he handed her the folded piece of paper, insisting she read it later because he didn’t want to see her reaction. He had a lip ring then, blond hair spiked up and a wardrobe full of band t-shirts and black skinny jeans. He certainly didn’t look like how anyone would imagine a poet, but one look at his work would tell anyone that he had the mind for the craft.

Luke’s way with words was unmatched. Devon always called it a superpower; the way he was able to capture readers with words strung together so beautifully and paint a picture in the brain. He made people feel something. He had a gift, no doubt.

All of his poems were breathtaking, and he wrote many for her. The first would always be her favorite.

It was called The Orchids. The poem compared a woman to a field of orchids, delicate and lush. It was simple but sweet. Devon vividly remembered the rush of giddiness she felt as she read it, knowing it was written just for her. She remembered calling Luke after reading it over and over again, gushing about how much she loved it. He explained to her later that he chose orchids because the color of the shirt she was wearing the day they met reminded him of them.

They were only freshmen in college then. First time away from home, getting their first taste of real independence. Of adulthood. They met in a seminar class that every first year student had to take. One that everyone else hated but Luke and Devon loved, just because they got to see each other. A couple of coffee dates lead to The Orchids, which lead to a loving relationship and many, many more poems.

College was just about to come to an end now. Graduation was coming up fast, and that brought the simultaneously exciting and dreadful question: what next?

The future was something that used to delight Luke and Devon. Countless nights, they talked about marriage, a house, a dog, children. Luke would be a renowned poet, Devon a respected social worker. They had it all planned out. Even if their white picket fence dreams fell through, they would be happy so long as they had each other.

With graduation creeping closer and closer, Devon wasn’t so sure about their plans.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want it anymore. She still loved Luke with all of her heart. She wanted everything they had talked about, a future with him. Some deeper thinking into her career led her heart elsewhere.

It came out at dinner one evening, sat at the table of Devon and Luke’s shared apartment that they had moved into junior year.

“I’ve been thinking about going to grad school,” she blurted out. She twisted her spaghetti on her fork to distract herself. His face lit up, but Devon didn’t quite share his excitement. She knew this was something she wanted, but she was about to make a huge sacrifice that she had been trying to convince herself that she was ready for.

“Yeah? That’s great, Dev!” Luke cheered. “Here?”

The proud smile on his face quickly dropped when he saw the look of dread on hers. Graduate school was certainly a good thing, but if she wasn’t thrilled, Luke knew there must be a catch.

“Not here?” Devon shook her head. “Then where?”

The name of the school that she mumbled under her breath made Luke’s heart sink. It was far away. Very far.

“Oh.”

Luke wanted to kick himself for being disappointed. It was selfish, so selfish. He should have been proud that Devon wanted to further her education, and he was. He couldn’t fathom trying to take that away from her, but the thought of his girl being so far away was gut wrenching.

He wiped the frown off his face as quickly as it came. He reminded himself that he needed to be supportive, even if it hurt.

“That’s awesome, baby. I’m really proud of you.”

Devon knew he wasn’t lying when he said he was proud of her, but she could tell he wasn’t as excited as he was trying to seem.

“You don’t have to act happy about this, Lu,” she murmured, still pushing her pasta around. “I know what you’re thinking.”

He sighed and dropped his fork on his plate. Of course she saw through him. She always did. After four years of being together, Devon knew Luke better than anyone.

“I really am proud of you for doing this, honey. Don’t think that I’m not. It’s just…” he trailed off, unable to think of a way to put what he wanted to say without sounding selfish. “It’s so far away.”

Devon swallowed the lump in her throat. She was headstrong, and she knew that she needed to put her career and her own desires first. That didn’t mean it hurt any less to move so far away from the love of her life.

“I know, bubs,” she whispered. “But this is something I really want for myself. For my future.”

“Oh, honey, I know,” Luke sighed, not wanting her to feel bad. “I want you to do this. But the distance...I know it’s selfish of me-”

“It’s not selfish, Luke,” she interrupted, shaking her head softly. “It’s not easy for me either. But this school has the best graduate program for social work. Besides, I haven’t finished my application yet and I’m applying to some other places too. I might not even get in.”

Perhaps the most selfish thing of all was that a tiny part of him hoped she wouldn’t get in. It would break her heart if she didn’t, but maybe she wouldn’t be so far. Luke hated himself for the thought even crossing his mind for a split second.

Devon could see how this was affecting him. She understood; she knew he was planning on proposing shortly after graduation, though they were in no hurry to actually get married until they both had secure jobs. Moving hundreds of miles away for two years undoubtedly threw a wrench in the plans.

She had gone back and forth for a while as she searched for grad schools. As much as she wanted to stay close, her future career was something that she valued greatly. Devon was a first generation college student, and she wanted nothing more than to make her family proud. However, Luke was important too. The distance wouldn’t be easy, but she tried to be optimistic. She could only hope that he would want to try too.

“Don’t think like that, Dev,” Luke mumbled. He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. His desire for Devon to succeed and his desire to keep her close were battling each other, and it only frustrated him.

He thought about his words for a few moments, but couldn’t find the right thing to say.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

Devon gave a silent nod. She needed to let him feel this out, and honestly, she needed to do the same. Thinking about it was one thing, but actually telling Luke was another. She had been stressing over it for a while, and now that it was finally out, her and Luke had to actually deal with it together.

The couple finished their dinner in silence, the only sounds to be heard being the slight scraping of forks against plates and the occasional sighs.

Devon couldn’t help but feel guilty. Over the years, she had conditioned herself to put her own aspirations first. She had sacrificed a lot for others in her lifetime, but many people had made sacrifices for her as well. She felt she had found a balance between taking care of herself and taking care of the people around her. She knew that moving away for a while for her own benefit would have an effect on her relationship, but she didn’t feel as if she had to choose one or the other. If Luke was willing to try to make things work, then so was she.

Luke took his last bite of spaghetti and stood up from the table. He silently made his way to the sink to wash his plate before turning back to Devon.

“I’m going to write for a bit, okay?” He mumbled, slowly making his way towards the spare bedroom that doubled as his workspace. No doubt a poem was going to come out of everything he was feeling at the moment. Devon nodded and her brown eyes watched as Luke turned on his heel to walk away.

“Luke?” She called out before he got too far. He turned around with a hum of acknowledgement. “I love you.”

Despite the anxiety and dread he was feeling, he smiled.

He walked back over to where Devon still sat at the table. With her face cradled lovingly in his hands, he bent down to press a soft yet meaningful kiss to her lips. The kiss said that even if things were uncertain, this wasn’t over.

“I love you too.”

…

Devon’s breath caught in her throat when an email from her top choice grad school came through.

She had poured over her personal statement and fretted over her interview. No matter how much everyone assured her, she couldn’t help the anxiety that ate her away.

With a deep breath, she opened the email.

Accepted with a scholarship.

“Luke! Bubs, I got in! I got in!”

She ran into the spare bedroom where Luke was hunched over one of his many poetry notebooks. His head whipped up at his girlfriend’s yells, his brain taking a moment to process her words after being in the writing zone.

For a moment, neither of them were thinking about the distance. All that mattered was Devon’s amazing achievement.

Luke stood up to meet her. Devon practically tackled him in a hug and he easily held her close.

“Congratulations, honey,” he mumbled into her hair. “Fuck, I’m so proud of you.”

He held her for a few minutes, neither of them able to wipe the smiles off their faces. This meant a lot to Devon, and Luke knew it. He knew from the moment he met her that she was going to do great things in life. She was motivated, intelligent, passionate. Anyone could see it. It was one of the many things he loved about her.

Luke pulled away in favor of cupping her cheeks in his hands. Devon flushed under his adoring gaze, eyes falling downwards.

“You’re incredible, Devon Murphy.”

She kissed him as a form of thanks, melting into each other’s touch. Their eyes met when they pulled away, bright blue and warm brown. Devon wasn’t the wordsmith that Luke was, but she didn’t have to be. Her eyes and her actions told him and everyone else everything that they needed to know. Devon was in love with him, and Luke, her.

Even with Luke’s way with words, Devon could read his eyes too. They were just as expressive as his poetry. As they gazed at each other, she could see the flash of sorrow as his mind travelled elsewhere. She didn’t need to ask to know what he was thinking about.

“Luke…” she whispered with a softened gaze. The guilt was returning, although she knew she had nothing to feel guilty about. She had always struggled with her determination to put herself first. It wasn’t Luke’s fault either, however; his feelings about her leaving were completely valid.

“No. None of that right now,” he stated, shaking his head. “This is a huge accomplishment, Dev. We’re not going to be sad tonight.”

A grin tugged at the corner of Devon’s lips as Luke pulled away, grabbing his phone from the desk and sticking it in his pocket. He placed a hand on the small of her back and led her to the door of the bedroom.

“I think you deserve a celebratory dinner, honey, yeah?” He offered, handing trailing to the side to hold her waist. She chuckled and leaned into him.

“You could throw in a frozen pizza and I’d be happy, bubs.”

“Hell no,” he scoffed as if it was the most ridiculous suggestion in the world. “You just got into grad school! I’m taking you out for dinner. If you want pizza, we can get pizza, but not a frozen one.”

Devon couldn’t help but throw her arms around him again, burying her face into his chest. He tilted his head down to press a kiss to the top of her head. She knew this wasn’t easy, and she was beyond grateful that he was being supportive.

“Thank you, bubs. I love you.”

“I love you too, honey. So are we getting pizza, or do you want to go somewhere else? It’s up to you.”

“Pizza sounds good. Can we go to the place with the good garlic knots?”

Luke laughed as he slipped on his shoes.

“Of course we can.”

Devon slipped on her own shoes and grabbed her denim jacket from the hook by the door before the couple made their way downstairs. Luke’s beat up Prius came into view as they stepped into the parking lot. Devon had named the car Bertha; she was old and a little rusty, but she got the job done.

Luke drove to the small pizzeria not far from their apartment complex. Once inside, they were seated quickly and ordered garlic knots and a pizza to share.

“We haven’t talked much about your writing lately,” Devon said once the waitress walked away. “What have you been working on?”

Luke shrugged and sipped his water.

“Not much. I haven’t really gotten anything good out.”

Truthfully, he had written a lot of poems about Devon leaving. He wasn’t going to tell her that at their celebratory dinner, though.

“In a slump?” She queried sincerely.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Maybe next weekend we can go out, go to the park. You always get inspired there.”

Luke grinned and reached across the table for her hand.

“I’d love that, Dev.”

The rest of dinner flew by, conversation getting lost in buttery garlic knots and savory pizza. Luke offered dessert, but Devon was too full to even think about it. A sly joke about having her for dessert at home had the giggling couple paying the check and driving home at record speed where Luke certainly made good on his promise.

Devon and Luke laid in bed that night where whispered I love you’s and gentle kisses put them to sleep. Not a negative thought in either of their minds. They were content, but the future still loomed menacingly ahead.

…

The apartment was once a place of solace. It was a place where Luke and Devon could get away from the stress of college life and simply be together. It was safe and comforting. A place they knew they were always welcome.

As time went on, the apartment slowly shifted from a place of joy to a place of dread.

Graduation day was coming up, and both Devon and Luke knew what that meant.

They busied themselves with assignments and exams, Devon simultaneously preparing herself for grad school. She didn’t say much about it to Luke; whenever it came up, the tension between them only got stronger. It led to them bickering about other things to avoid the conversation.

Before they knew it, graduation had come and passed. Devon and Luke officially had their bachelor’s degrees, Luke in creative writing and Devon in social work. The days leading up to it were a good distraction, celebrations with friends and family taking their minds off the move. But it was over. Devon needed to get to her new city soon to set up her new apartment and get her bearings before school started. It was time to face the music.

“Luke?” Devon mumbled as he came out of the spare bedroom. She had been waiting for him to finish so they could talk.

He sighed and sat down next to her on the couch, knowing exactly what this was about. They both had been dreading the conversation, but he knew just as well as her that they needed to discuss it before it was too late.

“Are you ready for this?” She whispered, glancing at him with sad eyes. He didn’t return her gaze.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to be away from you for this long, honey.”

Luke could feel his guard coming down. He wanted this for Devon, but he was struggling to keep his want for her to stay close suppressed.

“I don’t want you to think I’m not considering you in this,” she began, reaching for his hand in his lap. “Leaving won’t be easy for me either.”

“I know.”

He was too scared to say much else.

The couple was silent for a moment. They racked their brains for something to say that would make the situation easier on either of them.

“Maybe you could come with.”

Devon regretted it as soon as it came out of her mouth.

Luke huffed and sent her a look.

“You know I can’t do that.”

She did know. If he could do that, he would have jumped on the opportunity immediately. Luke couldn’t afford to move. He was working on fulfilling his lifelong dream of releasing a poetry book. He was getting so close. Publishers were starting to take interest in him, and he nearly had enough money saved to cover the costs. It was difficult to save money when his part time job at a local bookstore didn’t pay much in the first place and he still needed to pay for school as well as his share of the rent and groceries, among other necessary things. Devon was a little luckier. Neither of their families had much to contribute, and she needed to pay for the same things as him, but her part time job paid better than his and she had money saved from when she managed to land a paid internship first semester. It was covering the costs of her move and grad school.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

She watched him for another moment, trying to fight back the tears that were welling in her eyes.

“Please say something, Luke,” she whimpered. All she wanted was for him to affirm what she so desperately wanted; for them to be okay.

He finally looked at her, both sets of eyes red rimmed. Devon squeezed his hand.

“Do you really have to go, Dev?”

The break in his voice sent the first tear gliding down Devon’s cheek.

“You know how much this means to me, Lu. I really think we can make this work.”

“Can we? Can we really?” Luke’s tone turned frustrated. Devon’s mouth dropped open slightly. Did he not believe they could last?

“What are you saying?” She whispered, voice shaking.

He sighed and roughly stood up, dropping Devon’s hand in the process.

“We’ll never talk. We’ll both be so busy. You’ll have school, I’ll be working. And you know neither of us have the money to be visiting each other often. There will hardly be anything,” he rambled, pacing around the living room. Maybe his selfish side was coming out, but he felt he was just being realistic.

Luke always aimed for realism, particularly in his poetry. He wrote largely about real life experiences and channeled his emotions into beautiful, flowing rhymes. His best work came from personal connection.

Sometimes, he couldn’t help but write about what he wished he had.

His idealistic poems were never about Devon; his relationship with her was practically perfect. But this was something that no idealistic poem could fix. No words could change what was happening to them.

“I’ll make time for you, Luke. Won’t you do the same?” She questioned, growing frustrated as well. She had wanted him to share her optimism, but clearly he didn’t. A part of her knew he was right, but she wasn’t going to back down.

“Of course I’ll make time. But will it be enough? No matter how much we try, will it be enough to keep what we have going? Look at what it’s doing to us now! You haven’t even left yet and we can barely keep it together.”

“Do you really have that little faith in us, Luke?” Her voice was calm, despite how she felt on the inside. She narrowed her eyes at him. “No one said it would be easy. But we’ve been together for four years. I believe in us.”

Luke took another breath, trying his best to keep his emotions and tears at bay.

“I want to believe in us, Devon. I really do.” He turned to look at her. Her cheeks were stained with tears, and it only made his heart ache more. “I still want a future with you. I want the house and the dog and the kids we’ve always talked about. But I have a bad feeling. We’ve never been away from each other for more than a few weeks. I just...the distance is going to break us.”

Luke’s own words cut him like a knife. As much as he wanted to believe they could last, his own insecurities caused him doubt. He wasn’t sure if he truly believed that or if he just wanted to save himself the heartbreak of being away from Devon for so long.

Devon let his words sink in. Even if it did break them before she finished her degree, she was willing to try until they couldn’t anymore. Maybe he was right. Maybe the distance would break them eventually. But it hurt her that he didn’t have any faith at all. Still, she understood where he was coming from.

There was no winner in this situation.

She thought for a moment, and finally came to the conclusion that they were both thinking about.

“Fine.” She slowly stood up from the couch and looked him in the eye. They were both shattered. Hearts were breaking into a million pieces simultaneously. Devon put on the most stoic face she could muster with tears still leaking from her eyes. “We obviously want different things right now. I have school, you have your book, and clearly we can’t handle both at the same time. Maybe there shouldn’t be an us.”

Although he had essentially been the one to suggest it, her words felt like a punch in the gut.

This wasn’t what either of them wanted. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But the truth was becoming more and more apparent. They couldn’t do this. Not now.

However, Luke mimicked Devon’s actions and put on a blank face.

“Maybe there shouldn’t.”

They stared at each other for another few moments. Reality was setting in. This was the end of Luke and Devon. All of the coffee dates, the love poems, living off Ramen and questionable dining hall food together, walks in the park, kisses, I love you’s, the late night talks of the future, everything gone down the drain.

Devon shut herself in the bedroom before Luke could see her break.

…

The next month before Devon moved was painful. Her and Luke hardly said a word to each other. They ate their meals separately, not bothering to cook together like they used to or order food to share. They both spent time with friends before everyone went off to their new adult lives. When they weren’t out, Devon locked herself in the bedroom while Luke did the same in the spare. They hadn’t slept in the same bed since before their fight.

Devon spent a lot of free time packing. She went through all of her belongings, creating piles of things to keep, things to donate, and things to throw away.

She soon came across something that made all of her emotions about the breakup resurface.

It was the shoebox that she kept all of the poems Luke had written for her in. She kept every single one.

With a quivering lip, she opened the box and gazed at its contents. Piles of folded papers were neatly tucked inside, his declarations of love all written out in one place. They were her most prized possessions. She went back and reread them often, and the feeling of having someone love her like Luke did was the best feeling in the world.

Devon choked out a sob, burying her face into her hands in hopes that he wouldn’t hear her through the thin walls. The fact that he was right next door hurt her even more. The caring, gentle boy that made her swoon with his charming smile and romantic poetry. He made her fall in love with him all over again every day. He was everything, and she lost him.

She slowly read through each poem. Instead of joy and adoration, all she felt was anguish and heartache. She never thought she would feel this way about Luke.

When she got to the bottom, she pulled out the last poem, and her heart completely broke in her chest.

The Orchids.

Devon couldn’t keep her sobs at bay. She clutched the paper to her chest, every bit of pain coming out in tears.

Luke could hear her through the wall.

His heart told him to run in and comfort her. His brain told him it would only make things worse for both of them.

He plugged his ears, trying to block out the dreadful sound. He was in just as much pain as her, but the sound of the love of his life’s sorrow only made his own worse.

Glancing down at the open notebook in front of him, he reread the poem he was writing, and soon he found himself joining Devon in tears.

It was called Wilted. Their relationship that had once been a beautiful flower, an orchid, lost its sunlight and its water, and now it had wilted. Dead, grey, dried up.

Luke dropped his pen and folded his arms on the desk, burying his head into them. He cried.

The broken couple, only separated by a thin wall, might as well have already been miles apart. They cried together, but there was no sense of unity between them. Their pain was past what any poem could portray.

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redhoodieone · 4 years

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Wrong Number Part 2

A/N: Here’s Part 2! Uh…I don’t really know what to say other than…enjoy it! Hopefully, I can post Part 3 sometime next week.

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content, Text Message Nudes, and Mutual Masturbation.

I’m in complete shock. I know I’m frozen because I can’t literally take my eyes off the text message Jason sent to me. It’s clear; it’s in black and white, staring right at me.

Do you ever think we’ll meet each other?

He wants to meet me. Jason wants to meet me in person!

I want to text him back, but my mind is full of many ridiculous questions and the fears of Jason being a serial killer, or rapist, or just an insane Arkham escapee blows up in my head.

Before I knew it, I see the three bubbles on my screen.

I’m sorry. That was selfish of me to ask you that even though we’re still practically strangers to each other. Forget I asked, please?

My heart suddenly hurts like fuck. The pain I’m instantly feeling is very familiar. A broken heart?

It’s pure agony when I notice Jason texting me again.

I’m not going to be able to text tonight, sweetheart. I’m working late with my brothers. I’ll text you tomorrow. Have a good night. Sweet dreams.

I can’t believe I did this. How could I do this to a guy who’s been so funny, so sweet, and such a good friend in only just four days through text messages?

I seriously fucked up. And now I have no one to talk to until I fall asleep.

And as strange as it is, I only sleep well after I talk to him.

————————————————————————------------------------------

And true to his word, Jason texts me at five in the morning, only to let me know he made it home safe after working with his brothers.

We only spoke about our jobs once. He told me he works alongside police officers and tracks down criminals and helps brings justice to the city. He seemed almost hesitant to tell me and turned the conversation to me as if he doesn’t like talking about work. He made it clear that he would rather keep his work private, and I didn’t push him to tell me more. I didn’t want to ask a lot of questions, even if I’m sometimes curious about it, because I wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable about it.

I had told him I’m a waitress at the local diner just a block away from GCPD, and how I’m a late-night writer who dreams of publishing my novel on love and loss. And after I confessed about the book I wrote to Jason, I noticed he was very enthusiastic about that and even told me he wants to read it.

And as the shy and insecure person that I am, I became embarrassed and said no.

That only fueled the fire between us. Jason went on to explain he loves to read. His favorite literature consists of Shakespeare (particularly Hamlet), George Orwell’s 1984 and Animal Farm, and even poetry from Edgar Allen Poe.

He even went into depth of how The Tell-Tale Heart mirrors his own reflection of life and stuck with him during a depressing time in his life.

It wasn’t until after we shared our love for literature that I found myself falling for Jason. As ridiculous and insane as that sounds, I couldn’t help but feel as if he’s the missing piece in my life.

It’s as if he’s the words to my story.

Important, but very valuable to a writer.

I was basically on a high that had me grinning like an idiot, giggling like a moron, and jumping in my seat as my stomach twists and turns like a roller coaster, when Jason refused to take no for an answer after I said he couldn’t read my novel. He even said his dad has connections to businesses in Gotham and could even help me get it published.

As much as I would want that, I couldn’t help but feel that it seems too good to be true. What if his dad took my novel and publish it as his own? What if I get cheated out of a contract and didn’t get paid fairly like I should? What if it’s basically a soul-sucking scam to just fuck my entire life up?

Jason must have sensed my hesitation after that, because he then began to tell me about his brothers.

How his older brother Dick still treats him like a kid, even though Jason is taller and stronger than him.

How his younger brother Tim is a computer nerd and often geeks out over the oddest things.

And how his youngest brother Damian is really a demon spawn, who tries to be tough shit, but is really a soft teddy bear.

He even has a sassy but wise butler, Alfred, who frightens him and sometimes reminds him of Vito Corleone from The Godfather. But the older man loves Jason as much as his dad, Bruce.

The stories about Jason’s family are the best. I always find myself excited to see what he texts me about his family.

How he and his brothers fight over their dad’s car, how they wrestle and spar to see who’s the strongest one, and how whenever one’s in trouble, the other three are already finding ways to save or bail the troubled one out.

It all makes me feel good to know they’re a close family. Especially when my cold, harsh reality reminds me I don’t have a family.

My parents died when I was just fifteen years old. I was in the school library alone during afterhours; reading on a beanbag chair because I didn’t want to go home. At that particular time, my parents were hanging around a different crowd. A crowd that was into drugs and gambling, and possibly other illegal activities I don’t even know about.

So, I chose to stay in the school library that night, sitting in my favorite beanbag chair the librarian allows me to use, reading a favorite horror book, munching away on a hot pocket (a snack also from the librarian), and just enjoy the silence but comfortable environment I would call home.

Then I was told they died in a car accident, but after eavesdropping on Commissioner Gordon and the other cops, I heard there could have been a hit on them.

The car accident happened only a block away from our apartment.

The brakes were cut.

The car was burning too much oil.

The airbags were taken out.

Many noticeable factors couldn’t pinpoint the real crime. Eventually, they just called it a “car accident”, and everything fishy about the case was ignored and never brought up again.

I suffered and struggled a lot in foster homes until I turned 18. I didn’t have any other family members to get into contact with, so I had to make do with the foster care system. After being shipped to three unstable and cruel homes, the last family only dealt with me until I turned 18 and I was soon kicked out. I did get lucky enough to get a job at the diner I’m working at since the new manager needed a pretty young girl to serve the customers.

I even went to Gotham Community College for a year but dropped out when I couldn’t pass any math and science classes.

It was fucking hard.

Science was confusing as hell.

Math was just evil and useless.

I hated those classes so much.

I only passed my English classes because reading and writing only made sense to me.

I even took a creative writing class and poetry class only to discover I want to write.

I want to be a writer.

So, I dropped out of college and decided to work full time at the diner as a waitress. Since no one wants to live and work in Gotham, I’m lucky enough to work morning and night without any issues. As dangerous and scary Gotham can be, I have nowhere else to go, so that’s why I stay here.

Maybe that’s why I’m eager to meet Jason. After everything I’ve been through, maybe I do need a little unpredictability.

Chances.

Risks.

The more I consider meeting Jason, the more I can imagine him being my family.

Or being a part of his.

Maybe.

————————————————————————--------------------------------

“You’re not going to meet him, right???” Stacey raises her voice at me in sheer annoyance and panic. She crosses her arms and glares at me to answer her. “Right, Y/N???”

I sigh as softly as I can while wiping down the booths and tables for the night. In the midst of a battle, I find myself growling with irritation when I can’t wipe away the sticky maple syrup spills on the hard surface.

“He could be a fat, old man who picks up on teenage girls! He’s probably some 40-year-old loser who still lives on his mom’s basement playing Street Fighter with kids! What if he tricks you into meeting up in a hotel room and has his way with you? Then what, Y/N?! Does that sound like a good idea to you?!” Stacey snaps.

I exhale deeply and stand up straight; after leaning over the table to reach the opposite side for some time. Turning around, I face Stacey Patterson, a tall, petite, pretty blonde, fresh face girl straight out of high school. She’s a waitress like me, and after only working here for a year, we’ve become close friends; always looking after each other in dangerous Gotham City.

“I didn’t say I was going to meet him, Stacey. We’re just talking about it,” I answer timidly.

Despite being five years older than Stacey, she still intimidates the hell out of me. Whether it’s her 5’11 height, loud voice, or natural evil glare, I can never speak up or defend myself. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t take a stand.

Because what if I actually piss her off? What if she stops being my friend?

Because I don’t think I could live in Gotham and not have any friends and not know anyone.

Stacey is like my best friend, and her friends Amber and Holly hang out in our group. Stacey even says they’re my friends, too, even though I clearly know they only put up with me because of her.

And if Amber and Holly aren’t my friends, then I’ll just have Stacey. And if I don’t have Stacey, I’ll only have Jason.

And who knows if Jason is who he says he is, and if he’s even real.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Y/N! You’re totally thinking about Jason! You’re thinking about meeting up with him because I could see it in your eyes!” Stacey declares. She waves her arms around to emphasize her point. “You like this guy! You have feelings for a guy you’ve never even met!”

“That is not true,” I argue weakly.

“Yes, it is! And we don’t even know if it’s a guy!”

“Jason is a guy, and I can tell!”

“Oh, really? How? Do tell.”

I stare at Stacey with a serious expression, except my cheeks are burning with embarrassment as usual. “He...comes off like a guy. I know he is. I can tell through his text messages,” I say.

“Anybody can sound like anyone through text messages. That’s how people catfish victims online!” Stacey argues.

“I’m a writer, Stacey. I just...have a feeling, okay? I know Jason says who he is, and I believe him,” I say strongly, as I push a lose strand of my hair behind my ear. “I’m doing this the smart way, too. When he and I decide when we should meet up, I’ll let you know. Maybe we can make it a group thing. I bring a friend. He brings a friend.”

Stacey sighs in defeat when she realizes I’m not backing down. She glances up at me with a stern face. “Fine. When you two decide when you’re both going to meet up, I’ll be there. I’ll be there to make sure he’s not on America’s Most Wanted, and to make sure he doesn’t try to lure you to his mom’s basement. BUT...you have to go on a date. A REAL date with a guy we both know, AND who could be good for you,” she states loudly and clearly.

“But Stacey-”

“Hey! Only until this Jason guy comes to Gotham and we meet him! Until then, I want you to give this guy a chance. A fair chance! For me...please???” Stacey pleads. She pouts and gives me her puppy dog eyes, which she knows I always give in to.

I’m too nice. Mom always said I was too nice, and that one day it’ll get me in trouble.

I’m still wondering when that’ll happen.

“Okay, I’ll give this guy a chance. I swear I will,” I promise and salute her. “But who’s the guy?”

Stacey grins in success and hugs me tightly. “Good! Because you’re like my sister, Y/N, and I just want to see you happy. You deserve it,” she says softly. “And it’s Chace. Remember him? He’s the drummer from, WakeHell. He moved in right next door to me, and I know you two will hit it off right!”

Chace????

Oh yeah. I know him.

He’s a total bad boy. A bad boy I don’t even think I could deal with.

I force a smile but then frown, because the only guy in my life who makes me happy is Jason.

Who I only text.

Who I haven’t even met.

————————————————————————---------------------------------

The next day is a lazy day since it’s my day off. I spent the majority of it sleeping, doing laundry, and just doing minor cleaning around my apartment until it’s 9:00 P.M.

And Cruel Intentions is on TV.

Lying on the couch with my second glass of Vodka Cranberry, I find myself really buzzed and horny. Ryan Phillippe back then was hot, and him making out with Reese Witherspoon is doing things to me.

My phone bings. It’s Jason.

What are you up to tonight, sweetheart?

Just a night in, a cup of glasses of vodka and cranberry, and Cruel Intentions is on TV.

I barely realize I’m buzzed and texting Jason. But my horny side doesn’t care.

I sorry I’m buzzed right now lol.

LOL no worries. I just came back from the bar with my brothers. We had a successful night and decided to get some drinks. We even had Tim and Damian use fake I.D’s.

I laugh and snort. Thank God no one heard me do that.

That’s good...we wouldn’t want Tim and Damian to be left out. They’re your baby brothers, Jay.

Jay? I really like it when you call me that. And I especially like you buzzed. LOL.

I like me buzzed too! I think I’m way more fun and free!

LOL!!! Exactly, princess!

I smile down at my phone. I love it when he calls me princess.

You said you’re watching Cruel Intentions? I just found it on TV. Wow...this movie’s old LOL.

Shut up!!! I find young Ryan Phillppe sexy in this movie!

You seriously find him sexy??? The guy’s a whiny brat! A pussy! Fuck, this movie woulda been sexier if we actually saw the douchebag eat out Cecile and saw him fuck Annette AND Kathryn!

I gasp out loud and giggle.

Then it would have been a porno! Not a movie! Hahaha!!!!

That’s fine with me, princess!

I softly whimper at just the thought of Jason watching porn. Closing my eyes, I imagine how he would sound, touch himself, and look when he’s pleasuring himself.

My eyes shoot open when I hear Sebastian telling Cecile he wants to kiss her…down there. I quickly turn my attention to the TV and watch the movie. Even though he takes advantage of a clueless, drunk girl in the movie, just the thought of him eating her out makes me clench my thighs.

It’s been too long. WAY TOO LONG!

The last guy I was seeing didn’t like to eat me out; claimed it was disgusting and unnecessary to do before sex.

As if sucking his dick was glamorous AND fun!

My thoughts are interrupted when Jason texts me.

You’re quiet tonight…does this scene turn you on???

The laughing emojis he texts me should hurt my feelings since I can easily be embarrassed over sexual things but…he’s right.

I’m turned on with just the thought of getting eaten out.

I boldly text Jack back. Unashamed and VERY buzzed.

You have no idea. Just imagining him eating me out, writing the alphabet with his tongue, and making me have an explosion is making me wet my panties right now.

I laugh to myself just seeing that Jason read my text message and is responding fast. The texting bubbles have never looked so good.

You’re…you’re wet right now????

Yes. Soooo fucking wet.

A surge of drunken confidence hits me, and I quickly shove off my pajama shorts until they’re on the floor. In just my white tank top and pink panties, I bravely slip my fingers into my damp panties and rub the wetness against my sensitive clit.

And with my other hand, I raise my cell phone and snap a picture of fingers in my wet panties.

And I send the picture to Jason.

I bite my lip in anticipation when I see he read my text message and saw my picture. The texting bubbles do not appear on the screen. He’s not texting me back.

Frowning, I wonder if I freaked Jason out. Maybe I crossed the line. Maybe I made him uncomfortable. Maybe I’m just not sexy.

Suddenly, my phone beeps. Unlocking my cell phone screen, I see two text messages AND a picture.

Oh, fuck sweetheart…that’s fucking sexy. You’re fucking sexy…

Jason sends me a picture of him wearing his boxer briefs, and his hand holding his hard, thick cock, showing me the outline and shape of his boner.

Delicious. I can feel my pussy clench just from imagining Jason fucking me with his cock.

Fuck doll...you’re doing this to me.

I whimper pathetically and can’t help but continue to rub my clit and respond back. I can see my juices staining my panties.

Are you touching yourself too?

Fuck yeah. Just seeing your fingers playing with your wet, pretty pussy got me hard. I’m jacking off to your picture.

Would you want me like I want you?

Fuck yes, sweetheart. I probably want you more than you want me.

I slip a finger inside my pussy and moan. My thumb runs fast hard circles on my clit, and I’m soon pushing in two fingers. I’m fucking myself crazy, but I imagine Jason is finger fucking me because my fingers wouldn’t get me off so fast.

And his fingers are thick. His hands are fucking huge!

I bite my bottom lip. “Fuck...I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” I whisper to myself. I snap another picture of my fingers shoved in my pussy, and how I’ve gotten wetter. I send him the picture with the truth.

I need to cum so bad. I wish it was you touching me.

Yeah? What would you want me to do to you, doll?

Fuck that picture’s so hot.

I’d want you to finger me. Eat me out. Fuck me hard.

Jason sends me another picture of him stroking his cock but with his hand in his underwear. I can see a wet spot where his tip is; stained with his precum. I want a taste of it so badly.

Fuck I would baby. Your pussy looks so good enough to eat. I’d fucking eat you out until you can’t cum anymore. I bet you taste delicious.

Oh fuck…I’m so close. I want your cock so bad, Jay. You’re gonna make me cum…

Rub your clit harder baby. Fuck your pussy fast and hard with your fingers. Imagine they’re my fingers, baby. I’d fuck you so hard and deep.

I want to see your cum, okay? Take a picture of that pretty pussy and show me what I did to you.

I do what Jason says. Behind his words, I can feel his authority. Even though I can’t hear Jason’s voice, just reading his words makes me burst like fireworks. My thumb rubs my clit harder, and I crook my fingers just right until I push against my g-spot until I cum. My orgasm is intense, and I force myself to snap a picture of my soaked underwear and fingers. I sent it to him with a lazy smile.

My phone beeps. Jason sent me a picture of his thick, juicy, cum covering his abdominal muscles. I smile a little with pride.

Fuck that was hot, sweetheart. I needed that.

Me too. Now, I’m sleepy.

LOL, I’m tired too. Get some sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning.

Okay…goodnight Jay.

I roll over onto my side and shut off the TV. Pulling my UGG throw blanket over my body, I snuggle up to fall asleep. My phone beeps again. Opening one eye, I reach over to read the text message.

Goodnight doll. Sweet dreams.

#dc comics #batman #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x y/n smut #jason todd smut

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michaelbogild · 3 years

Text

Quotes by Lord Byron

Adversity is the first path to truth.

All farewells should be sudden, when forever.

All who would win joy, must share it; happiness was born a twin.

Always laugh when you can, it is cheap medicine.

And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.

And gave no outward signs of inward strife

And mind and dust- and passions and pure thoughts

And when we think we lead, we are most led

As long as I retain my feeling and my passion for Nature, I can partly soften or subdue my other passions and resist or endure those of others.

Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.

Being of no party, I shall offend all parties

Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.

But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.

But who, alas! can love, and then be wise?

But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think

Come, lay thy head upon my breast and I'll kiss thee unto rest.

Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime, The image of Eternity, -- the throne Of the Invisible! even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone

Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.

Eat, drink and love...the rest is not worth a nickel

Eternity forbids thee to forget.

Even innocence itself has many a wile, And will not dare to trust itself with truth, And love is taught hypocrisy from youth

For Earth is but a tombstone

For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest.

For there was soft remembrance, and sweet trust In one fond breast, to which his own would melt, And in its tenderer hour on that his bosom dwelt.

For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.

Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.

Had they been wisely mingled; as it is

Hath all the energy which would have made

he knew how to make madness beautiful

I am ashes where once I was fire...

I am so changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long - such a strange melange of good and evil.

I can never get people to understand that poetry is the expression of excited passion.

I do not believe in any religion, I will have nothing to do with immortality. We are miserable enough in this life without speculating upon another.

I feel my immortality over sweep all pains, all tears, all time, all fears, – and peal, like the eternal thunders of the deep, into my ears, this truth, – thou livest forever!

I had a dream, which was not at all a dream.

I have a great mind to believe in Christianity for the mere pleasure of fancying I may be damned.

I know that two and two make four - and should be glad to prove it too if I could - though I must say if by any sort of process I could convert 2 and 2 into five it would give me much greater pleasure.

I linger yet with Nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man; and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness, I learned the language of another world.

I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.

I slept and dreamt that life was beauty; I woke and found that life was duty.

I suppose I had some meaning when I wrote it; I believe I understood it then.

In secret we met - In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? - With silence and tears

In solitude, where we are least alone

In vain!—As fall the dews on quenchless sands, Blood only serves to wash Ambition's hands!

It is an awful chaos-light and darkness-

Life's enchanted cup sparkles near the brim

Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.

Mix'd, and contending without end or order

My pang shall find a voice.

Oh too convincing - dangerously dear - In woman's eye the unanswerable tear

On with the dance! Let joy be undefined!

One certainly has a soul; but how it came to allow itself to be enclosed in a body is more than I can imagine. I only know if once mine gets out, I’ll have a bit of a tussle before I let it get in again to that of any other

Opinions are made to be changed – or how is truth to be got at?

Prometheus-like from heaven she stole The fire that through those silken lashes In darkest glances seems to roll, From eyes that cannot hide their flashes: And as along her bosom steal In lengthened flow her raven tresses, You'd swear each clustering lock could feel, And curled to give her neck caresses.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean - roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin - his control Stops with the shore

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes

Sigh to the stars, as wolves howl to the moon...

Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality, And dreams in their development have breath, And tears and tortures, and the touch of joy.

So, we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart still be as loving, And the moon still be as bright.

Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.

Start not—nor deem my spirit fled: In me behold the only skull From which, unlike a living head, Whatever flows is never dull.

The best of prophets of the future is the past.

The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space.

The dew of compassion is a tear

The drying up a single tear has more of honest fame than shedding seas of gore.

The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain

The great object of life is sensation—to feel that we exist, even though in pain. It is this ‘craving void’ which drives us to gaming—to battle—to travel—to intemperate but keenly felt pursuits of every description, whose principal attraction is the agitation inseparable from their accomplishment..

The heart will break, but broken live on.

The morn is up again, the dewy morn, With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, And living as if earth contained no tomb,— And glowing into day.

The power of thought is the magic of the mind.

The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted; they have torn me, and I bleed. I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.

There are four questions of value in life... What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is same. Only love

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more

There is music in all things, if men had ears.

There is no instinct like that of the heart

There is the moral of all human tales: ’Tis but the same rehearsal of the past, First Freedom, and then Glory - when that fails, Wealth, vice, corruption - barbarism at last. And History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page

There's music in the sighing of a reed; There's music in the gushing of a rill; There's music in all things, if men had ears; The earth is but the music of the spheres.

Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, he would have written sonnets all his life?

This should have been a noble creature: he

Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.

Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a-roving By the light of the moon.

Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark our coming, and look brighter when we come

To have joy, one must share it.

To him the magic of their mysteries; To him the book of Night was opened wide, And voices from the deep abyss revealed A marvel and a secret.

Truth is a gem that is found at a great depth; whilst on the surface of the world all things are weighed by the false scale of custom.

We of the craft are all crazy. Some are affected by gaiety, others by melancholy, but all are more or less touched.

Who knows whether, when a comet shall approach this globe to destroy it, as it often has been and will be destroyed, men will not tear rocks from their foundations by means of steam, and hurl mountains, as the giants are said to have done, against the flaming mass? - and then we shall have traditions of Titans again, and of wars with Heaven...

Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?

With just enough of learning to misquote.

Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it

You don't love a woman because she is beautiful, but she is beautiful because you love her. Never underestimate the power of love. The way to love anything is to realize it may be lost. The heart has its reasons that reason does not know at all. Music is love in search of a word. There is pleasure in the pathless woods; there is a rapture on the lonely shore; There is society, where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar.

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aubreycasuallyobsesses · 4 years

Text

Sweet, Sweet is the Greeting of Eyes pt. 1

Lady Veronica x Forsythe Pendleton Jones III

Summary: It’s 1819 England—two young adults have found a mutual admiration for each other over hours of exchanging words about poetry, literature, science and the arts. The first, Lady Veronica, is wealthy beyond imagination, but so isolated in her country home. The second is Forsythe Pendleton Jones III, an academic who thrived while educating the underprivileged youths of London. The bond they slowly form over time is what they both want and crave...but what did it all mean for their own futures - both together, and singularly.

Notes: Oh my god. This is my first ever actual fic, let alone a regency!au, I hope you like it @kindnessinpain2000 , time got away from me this month, but this was fun to create! I really loved all your requests, but this vibe really stuck in my mind. I think I’ll probably do 1-2 more parts if you love this...Happy Holidays love! Also, I know the title is from a John Keats poem he wrote in a letter in June 1818, to George and Georgiana Keats - which was first published in 1925, but I swear it’s something they’d exchange in this fic, so I’m going with it.

Warnings: Honestly none, maybe just some major slow burn, and a touch of the typical moody Jughead we know and love.

It was 1819 and spring was finally here. As he approached Pembrooke, hired on as a tutor by one of the wealthiest families on this side of Oxford, he couldn’t help but miss the city. The constant change of faces, never-ending booksellers and his students. He taught underprivileged teens and young adults how to read. Watching each come alive while reading his favorite literature was fascinating to him. Leaving London for permanent employment at a country house didn’t spark anything thrilling for him, but the financial security felt like a need due to unforeseen familial issues that recently arose. Little did he know his entire future would be upended soon enough.

Forsythe Pendleton Jones III was an academic who had a way with words. Compared to others of a similar age, he was incredibly well educated. With a swath of floppy dark brown waves, a stare that could pierce one's soul and an air of mystery behind his eyes. Women of all ages noticed him. He was never one for romance, he could be, but no one intrigued him longer than a few minutes. That is until he walked into the entrance hall of the country home. He was greeted by The Lord and Lady Pembrooke and more specifically their only daughter, Lady Veronica.

As the weeks passed and time turned to months, he fell into a simple routine, or as simple as one could get existing within this environment. His mornings consisted of tea, reading alone in the study prior to making his way to the north library for daily education. He tutored Lord Pembrooke’s young nephews from Spain, who now lived in England year-round. Although compared to his typical London pupils, they had been exposed at an early age to some of the best literature, art, music, mathematics, and sciences one could afford. However, just like his former pupils, the boys still had that spark in their eye and an excitement for learning. Most days were spent this way, with evenings in the library, where he often read aloud to the family and distant relatives or friends of the Lord and Lady who spent weekends in the country.

During the seemingly endless evenings immersed in a book, he grew to look forward to Saturdays most. This was when Lady Veronica read to the boys in the afternoons while he prepared the lessons for the following week. Oftentimes he found himself distracted and lost in thought while she took over the study with her voice, which was so unlike him. Where were these thoughts creeping in from, why her of all people, it’s not like he had a chance to ever publicly declare he had these thoughts about her. They were from two very different backgrounds, while he was well off and had some slight social advantages, her father would never allow for their lives to intertwine romantically.

It was after one of these weekend afternoons, while he was lost in a recently published science essay for the boys Monday lessons, that he looked up just as Lady Veronica passed by the desk and softly dropped a small envelope on his never-ending stack of textbooks. After they shared a mutually discreet glance, she was gone from the room. Although he was anxious to rip the parchment open and delve into whatever she had written to him, he slowly collected his papers, books, quills, sure to not forget her mysterious note and with haste escaped to his living quarters in the north wing. Once inside, he settled at his chair near the window to unseal the unassuming note. He was immediately caught by her graceful and quickly scrawled words. It was not known that he had a fondness for the romantic sonnets of the past and present, but more specifically Lord George Byron. How she had known this, he assumed was purely coincidental.

And like music on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me: When, as if its sound were causing The charmed ocean’s pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming, And the lull’d winds seem dreaming: Meet me in the garden at half-past dusk tomorrow...LV.

Moving from the window to his desk, removing a quill, some parchment and settling in to contemplate how to reply. He needed to write something in such a way that conveyed every thought of her that occupied his mind, without seeming entirely too infatuated or overbearing, he scrawled down, not his own words, but Percy Bysshe Shelly.

Thy gentle words are drops of balm

In life’s too bitter bowl;

These choicest blessings I have

known.

Harriet! If all who long to live

In the warm sunshine of thine eyes, -F

After sealing the small note, Forsythe needed to find a moment to slip it to her unnoticed. The family resided in the east wing, which he rarely ventured to. It needed to be inconspicuous; however, he could hardly ask her lady’s maid, Elisbeth to hand off the note to her without stirring up whispers among the others. He decided to wait until after their shared family meal, and while he selected a book to read that evening. She routinely wandered the library and would choose favorites for him to read passages from, while Lord and Lady Pembrooke said their goodnights to the boys prior to joining for the evening. Tonight while he handed off a Wordsworth’s An Evening Walk and Descriptive Sketches, to her, they shared a quick glance and brushed fingertips. With his small token of admiration tucked inside the cover.

The night passed excruciatingly too slow for him. The following day, while he enjoyed the time spent delving into their expansive literature collection, he wanted nothing more than to somehow speed time and space up to get through the next day. Although he had a leisurely day of riding with Lord Pembrooke in the northeastern Cotswolds, on which Pembrooke sat with all of its stately, silent power - his mind was consumed entirely by Lady Veronica throughout the afternoon outing. Lord Pembrooke continued to engage in conversation with him throughout the day gone, most of which consisted of him trying to convince Forsythe into participating in his humorous antics with his valet and the young men who rode along. It was a pleasant escape from the normal academic rigors of the last weeks, but he wanted nothing more than for dusk to finally arrive.

With time finally on his side, he made his way out the north side exit to the sweeping gardens south of the home, he couldn’t help but feel a small sliver of anxiety. This is not something he normally did. Secret stolen glances, mysterious garden strolls with a woman of her caliber were just not things Forsythe Pendleton Jones III participated in. But there was something different about Lady Veronica. She was an enigma. Other ladies of a similar age were already well acquainted with love and romance, oftentimes already marrying a gentleman of significant family power and notoriety. Yet, here she was, sharing mutual glances with him over literature. Discussing the works of today’s most influential authors and poets with him in the study throughout the days. How had fate placed her in his path, was this to be a fleeting moment or the start of something more.

Lost in wandering a section covered in soft moss and wildflowers near the outskirts of the garden, he hadn’t heard her approach. Suddenly she was next to him and he was unable to form a coherent thought to create a sentence. Luckily for him, she took the lead, “Hello Forsythe, I see you have found yourself in my absolute favorite section of my mother’s garden, shall we walk?” She slipped her graceful hand into the nook of his arm and thus began their secret conversations.

As they wandered aimlessly throughout the Pembrooke’s unparalleled garden, they shared slowly about their favorite topics, uncovering what made their minds operate. When each realized, unbeknownst to them, that this was not going to be a singular incident. They were discovering that there was another soul in the universe that related to their own mind, even heart, so closely. Just as they were rounding another corner of the labyrinth they had aimlessly strolled into, thunder was heard above. Soon enough it was a ceaseless rainfall. Removing his tailcoat and draping it over her small frame, they found refuge from the summer storm, in the small garden pavilion.

While waiting for the rain to cease, they sat in comfortable silence. Each reveling in the absolute quiet that always happens during a particularly hard rainfall. While she watched the garden and contained all the words that he too was holding back for fear of breaking the magic spell that fell over them. He couldn’t help but let his mind wander again. To all of the countless times he had admired, not just her mind, but her outward beauty as well. She had dark hair, just a shade darker than his own, nearly the color of a raven’s feathers. With facial features that he saw as almost exotic compared to other women he saw while living in London, yet her face was also so familiar to him. Lost in his own mind yet again, he hadn’t noticed that she glanced over while he leaned back against the pillar of the stone pavilion. With a smirk on her face and a devilish glint in her eye, “Forsythe, dare I say we escape this cold night and make a run for shelter?”

After giving hardly any thought to the inquiry, “Oh, Lady Veronica, I thought you would like to stay here, with me and exist in this freezing realm of silence forever?”

With a laugh and a shake of her raven-haired head, she said, “I should never leave if I didn’t have to Forsythe.” Taking her hand, he whisked her into the storm across the garden, in the direction of Pembrooke.

As they ran towards the warmth of the fireplaces and dry clothing that awaited each of them inside. Unknown to each of them was what fate truly did have in store for them. The neverending hours wandering the gardens, learning the deepest feelings of one another. The endless laughs exchanged over comedic books, reading poems, literature and countless notes covertly exchanged. What it all meant for their own futures - both together, and singularly.

#jeronicasecretsanta19 #jeronica nation #jeronica secret santa 2019 #jeronica au #regency au #with some maybe georgian era influences #aubreycasuallywrites #veronica lodge x jughead jones #I honestly have no clue what I'm doing tbqh

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lonelypond · 4 years

Text

Yen For Success

NicoMaki RinPana, Love Live, 1.9K, 1/1

Summary: Maki’s stuck studying while 1Kiss runs into choppy waters.

Yen For Success

WEAKEST MEMBERS OF MUSE ATTEMPT IDOL KNOCKOFF GROUP

WHY ISN'T HOSHIZORA HEADING A BOY BAND

IS NICO NI MANIPULATING HER YOUNGER BANDMATES

HOW HEFTY IS HANAYO

Nishikino Maki leaned back in her desk chair, unpleasant headlines screaming from multiple open tabs. She glanced down at her phone, no relief there. Rude comments on the 1Kiss TWIG feed as well. She wanted to throw her phone across the room. Her two best friends and her one true love aka 1Kiss were finally landing bigger venues, but they'd also landed the wrong kind of attention. The buzz was leaning bad and Maki knew from Nico's worrying how hard that could be to recover from. Their last two concerts had only had half the seats sold. Plus, even the normally enthusiastic 1Kiss fans were being exceptionally harsh about both Rin's and Hanayo's appearance and Maki knew too well how much her friends struggled. Nico's confidence was practically undentable, but Rin and Hanayo…Maki dropped her head in front of her laptop, reminded of the other times she wanted to help but couldn't...or Nico wouldn't let her. Nico...Maki raised her head, a gleam in her eye. Nico wasn't here. Nico was probably too busy trying to stitch together Rin and Hanayo's self esteem to suspect that Maki might try to intervene.

"Call Umi." Maki's voice was clear, determined. This was a problem a Nishikino could solve.

###

Nico was sitting in her hotel room, staring, at a loss for ideas. Rin had refused to even come out of the room on their afternoon off, here in Cancun. Hanayo was holed up with her, refusing to eat. Nico had gone for a run, stopped at a beautiful beach, texted a selfie to Maki with a too deeply felt 'Nico misses you." But Maki had college exams to study for. Nico would see her over Christmas and then in a few months when Maki joined them for her ronin year.

A brusque knock on Nico's door startled her. She moved to the spyhole, heart pounding, to see two familiar heads, one fair and one dark. Kotori and Umi. Nico yanked the door open and grabbed them both in a hug, before pulling back with an embarrassed cough,

"What are you doing here?" Nico glanced from one to the other, "you" pointing to Umi, "are in Japan, and you" back to Kotori, "are in France."

Kotori giggled, "We decided to have a weekend rendezvous" Kotori leaned into Umi "and see our favorite band in concert."

"How, who…?" Nico shook her head, "I don't care. Nico's just glad to have some backup. Rin's a real mess."

"Nico!" a squeak come from behind her visitors as Hanayo opened her door, "TONIGHT'S SHOW JUST SOLD OUT!" Hanayo raised her eyes from her phone to see two familiar but unexpected profiles. "KOTORI! UMI!"

"They're having a sexy tropical getaway." Nico chuckled. Umi went pale in contrast to Maki's usual flare of tomato shade embarrassment but it was almost as much fun.

Hanayo just grabbed them and held on, sobbing. Nico manuevered them all into her room so they could talk about the biggest problem.

"Rin won't even talk to me. Or even pick up her phone to watch cat videos. She's been ignoring Maki's calls as well." Hanayo sat on Nico's bed, eating the chicken rice soup Nico had ordered her.

Nico smiled, glad that Maki was trying to reach out to Rin. Nico hadn't had a chance to talk to Maki this week, their rehearsal schedule was brutal, but the Nico knew the redhead must have seen the recent rush of bad press. Maki...Nico glanced at Umi speculatively, but the dark haired archer and poetry student just smiled kindly. Nico shrugged, her attention back on Hanayo. But it was Kotori who seized on a solution, "Obviously, we need to go shopping. How long until sound check?"

Nico glanced at her phone, "Three hours."

"I already checked with the concierge about cute local shops. And the driver knows how to get there." Kotori put her hand on Umi's shoulder, "If you'll just go get Rin, we can get started."

"But our costumes are already…"

Kotori's golden eyes met Nico's and the number one idol saw a challenge there. When had she ever let what should happen stop her…

"All right, go get Rin, let's try out a new look for 1Kiss." Nico turned away to pull out a long linen shirt that nicely layered over her shorts and tank top. She also didn't want to see the look on Kotori's face. It would tell her too much. "Nico knows you'll find the best bargains."

"Uh huh."

###

Many more photographers than Nico had expected, and a crowd of fans waiting when they pulled up backstage. Rin had a gorgeous frilly skirt covered with vibrant birds and flowers, a simple white linen shirt, and the cutest slouched two toned straw cloche hat Nico had seen yet. She bought a similar trilby for Maki, since the redhead liked both hats and gifts from local artisans. Plus, knowing Rin and Maki, they'd put them to good use dressing for one of the now traditional RinPana NicoMaki seasonal double dates. Nico and Hanayo always had so much fun guessing what kind of look the two were going to surprise them with. Kotori had dressed Nico in a simple red and black dress and Hanayo had gone for sportif, with an Atlante F.C. jersey, cute shorts, and a matching 1Kiss beanie. On stage, for an additional change and shout out to the local culture, Kotori had found matching swimsuits and sarongs with vivid blue orange splashes of colors that would look better on Rin and Hanayo than Nico, but for once the idol didn't mind. Rin had been glowing as Kotori fussed over her, Nico finding the perfect matching pearl hair accessories for the three of them. The boutique owner had helpfully refused to mention prices and Kotori just flashed a card that Nico thought she recognized to take care of the tab. So she caught some video of Rin spinning happily in her new skirt and hit send, knowing Maki would feel lighter after seeing it.

The concert was a SCREAMING SUCCESS. Both Idols and the audience were hoarse by the end. TWIG was buzzing with shots from the concert, Nico pulling fans on stage to dance, livestreaming on TWIGTube with the screaming audience in the background, Rin down in the front row, teaching everyone their latest dance steps, her face ecstatic. That's what the people wanted to see, Nico thought as a stream of hearts and comments raced across the screen of her cell. This was the energy boost 1Kiss needed. This was who they were.

###

Maki grinned at her laptop screen. Rin was bouncing up and down on her hotel room bed while Hanayo was unwinding with a bath.

"It was AMAZING, Maki. The best night ever. The crowd knew ALL THE SONGS, even the new ones. Sold out, people lined up at the back." Rin flopped back onto the bed, "Now I know why Nico's so addicted to making people smile."

"That sounds...fun."

Rin snorted and rolled up, "Oh Maki, you know you would have loved it. And Nico practically glowed."

Nico always glows, Maki thought as she frowned at Rin, "I'm fine here."

Rin shook her head, "You can say you miss music, Maki. It's okay."

Maki sighed, "I do miss all of you."

"Maki must be lonely." Rin started bouncing again, "So write us a song for the next concert."

"Write your own."

"Hey, you wrote Hanayo a rice song, where's my ramen song?"

"And how catchy will that be in Central America?"

"Ramen is an international sensation. Students love ramen, students love 1Kiss...instant hit."

Maki couldn't hide her grin. It was great to hear Rin being obnoxiously, stupidly, wonderfully Rin, "Sure, sure...keep telling yourself that."

"I will. AND I'll tell you and Kayo-chin and Nico and Umi and Kotori and..."

As Rin rattled off an ever growing list of names, Maki's phone buzzed. Nico.

Nico: Exhausted, but had a wonderful concert. Nico can hear Rin through the wall so you've probably heard how it went ヾ(≧∇≦)ゞ

Maki: Yeah, she's trying to get me to write a ramen song.

Nico: Hey, we did well with a burger song once.

Maki: d(-_^)

Nico: really great that our biggest fan club donated tickets to local fans.

Maki: oh did that happen, that's cool.

Nico: And Kotori picked out the cutest outfits,

A selfie of Nico in bed, sheet barely pulled up flashed across Maki's screen.

Nico: Not that I'm wearing it now (⌒.−)＝

Maki blushed.

Maki: Rin sent me a snap of you onstage. It's my new screensaver.

Nico: Stalker.

Rin had moved from ramen to the hats Kotori had found them. Maki made encouraging noises as she continued her conversation with Nico.

Maki: Maybe. I miss you.

Nico: I miss you.

Nico: But Nico needs to sleep now. Rin plans to drag us and Umi and Kotori to the beach for breakfast.

Maki: If she's stopped talking by then.

Nico: (°o°)(°o。)(。o。)(。o°)(°o°)(°o。)(。o。)(。o°)

Nico: Maki…

Maki: …?

Nico: Nico will thank you properly when I see you.

Nico: But don't ever do that again (｀^´)

Maki laughed. Of course, Nico knew what she'd done. Nico knew everything. Rin startled out of her story, asked "Maki?"

"Sorry, just texting Nico. Keep going. She's looking forward to breakfast on the beach."

Rin bounced up, "It's so weird being on this side of the Pacific; it's like the world is backwards."

Maki shook her head at the silliness of Rin and typed a response to Nico's jab.

Maki: I won't have to. You're the number one idol trio in the universe after all.

Nico: And don't you forget it.

Maki: (#^.^#)

Nico: (● ∀ )

Nico: See you soon.

Maki: Not soon enough.

Nico: True. Have sexy dreams about Nico (๑ 3 ๑)

Maki: I don't sleep ┌( ಠ_ಠ)┘

Nico: Silly Maki （＾。＾；）

Maki: *shrugs*

Maki slid her phone to the side and focused on Rin, who was winding down the perfect beach breakfast list. "So tell me about Nico."

"Oh, she was so wow, Maki, from the first step on the stage. It was like she was drinking the energy in the air. I'll send you her solo."

"Cool."

"So how's your studying going?"

Maki groaned, "Slow…"

"You can do it. You're the smartest person I know."

"Thanks, Rin."

Her phone pinged at her. A 1Kiss alert.

Rin For The Win in Cancun. "1Kiss bops into audience hearts with their cutest looks yet. Is Muse designer Minami Kotori responsible for the redesign? Local eco friendly fashion is a big win for the planet and 1Kiss with their biggest crowd ever."

Yep, Maki thought, they'd do just fine from here.

"Hey, Rin. Check your alerts."

"Ooohh, they used a really great snap of Kayo-chin."

"Yeah, she should make the local jersey a thing. Lots of crossover fans."

"Ooohh, good idea, Maki-chan. I'll tell her. And I know all the teams."

"Yeah."

Maki put away her books. Time to talk women's football with Rin. She could stare at the selfie Nico had sent her later. Some nights were girlfriend nights, Maki thought, but sometimes it was nice to just vent and ramble with Rin, whose eyes were gleaming life bright again.

"So who's your fave Atlante player?"

"We actually met a whole bunch of fans, Maki, when we went to dinner after the concert. It was so cool. Let me tell you what happened when Nico…"

Maki settled back on her couch, happy to hear stories about her three favorite people conquering Cancun. With maybe a little help from her, Maki thought, hugging a Nico sized pink pillow, glad to still be part of it.

A/N: I've been missing 1Kiss and going back through my files and found this mostly finished bit of business so I polished it up. Enjoy.

#NicoMaki #RinPana #KotoUmi #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #Hoshizora Rin #Koizumi Hanayo #Sonoda Umi #Minami Kotori #1Kiss #I love Rin Maki bff-ing #1Kiss is fun

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askeletonintheclosetfic · 4 years

Text

The one with a bloody knife

*blood, gore, and smut warnings*

November 30, 1986.

The past couple of days have been a complete dream come true for the Black Moon camp. Between the two of us hanging out with all of the guys and all of them being so kind to us, I've completely forgotten that the King of Hearts exists. We're in Connecticut right now and it's pouring rain outside at the moment. Just something about gazing out of the hotel window while Ceecee's in the shower, looking out to the pitch black sky as the rain is streaking over the window pane and there's nothing more than the golden street lights to glean over them. Not even the little desk lamp next to me can give them some highlights.

We're going to New York City tomorrow and Ceecee and I can hardly contain our excitement! We love New York and the guys from Nuclear Assault told us they'll introduce us to the crowd if they must.

I finally got close to Joey last night after our show in New Jersey.

The past couple of days I've brushed elbows with James and had breakfast with him and Lars, the latter of whom always gave me a good morning kiss once he saw me, and as a result the two of us have bit of a friendship going, but Joey seemed to back off for a little bit. I barely saw him in Poughkeepsie and they left before the two of us and Metallica piled into Nuclear Assault's van again to make the drive back here to New England.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around the letter Frankie wrote to me. And I thought that might have had something to do with it, like maybe Joey and Frankie are both purposely avoiding me. But that makes no sense, though.

And then I actually bumped into Joey after Anthrax's set. Literally bumped into him.

Ceecee and I earned swag and stuff at every venue we've been to so far, and our guitar cases have been overflowing with said stuff. Since we're on the road, we have no permanent space for all of this, so just when we're about to settle into the room, we have to leave and go to the next one. It's all so quick and transient that Clara actually confessed to me that she's surprised everyone manages to keep themselves sane this whole time.

But because our cases are so heavy now, the three of us had received the help of the guys from Overkill as we made our way out of the theater. It was this cozy little venue with red and gold trimming all around the front lobby so even though it was quite cold outside, the whole place felt warm and comfortable: we brought even more warmth to our set which I feel the people there in New Jersey loved us for, perhaps more than our music.

Clara had her cane extended out right in front of her and Bob had his hand rested upon her shoulder to ensure she could find her way to the door. They were underneath the heater vent in the ceiling when I almost lost my balance from the dead weight on my back. I staggered about to catch myself.

I fell on something soft, and I looked up to find it was Joey.

"Damn, easy there," he told me as he clasped onto me to keep me from falling to the floor. His fingers crept over my shoulders: I could feel his thumbs right on my chest. I raised up to look into his big brown eyes and at the smooth bridge of his aquiline nose. I finally had a moment alone with Joey.

"You okay?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I assured him.

"Chris!" Ceecee called out from behind us.

"I'll catch up with you guys," I told her. She then flashed me a mischievous grin before she and Clara ambled out of the hallway with Overkill. The last thing I heard before the door closed was the sound of the rain on the pavement out there.

"What you wanna do?" Joey asked me once I brought my attention to him.

"Oh, my God, you are so cute, it's annoying," I scoffed at him.

"Wow, great singer and I'm cute?" he teased me. "By the way, I wanna keep thanking you ladies for coming with us."

"It's either that or staying there in Sea-Town with that serial killer coming after us."

"It's gotta be quite the relief to be all around the Northeast." He gave his inky black curls a little toss which showed off his neck. I hoisted the guitar case back over my shoulder: I didn't care if it was weighing me down a bit. I stood there with Joey in a lush red and gold corridor in New Jersey. I looked down at his hips and his thumbs tucked under his belt loops.

I raised my gaze back up to his face.

"Like what you see here?" he teased me.

"The darkness all around us, bringing us together," I whispered to him.

"You wanna... give me a bit of poetry?"

"Give me your warm flesh, and give me your earthly fire," I said on the spot. "Give me a single reason and know that I've taken your gloves. Without a light in the hallway and without a hallway in the mind; slide in between me and the cold of the void."

Joey ran his tongue along his bottom lip. "Go on."

"Lay me down to feel the leather—" I eyed the smooth sleeves of his jacket. "—tie me down and lock the door, and touch me 'til sunrise on all quarters and hit me 'til midday on all sides."

He glanced down at his chest, and I looked right at that low neckline of his shirt.

"There's no heat—of breath and there's no sear—of pain, even as you shake beneath me and the salt hangs over us."

I could hear him breathing harder as I moved in closer to him.

"No one can ever know the way you've touched me," I whispered into his dark lips, "or that I've caressed you down, even as the mark is made. But lo, darling—" He closed his eyes when I said that. "—know that I'm forever yours, carved into each other's skin, the mark—of the Black Knight."

"Kiss me," he pleaded. I brushed my lips against his: chills ran down my arms and my spine. I rested my fingers upon his chest. He felt soft, even with his slender build.

I had my first kiss, and with Joey, the sexy bachelor no less. I pulled back and gazed into his eyes once more. He stared into mine.

"Our parents can't know about this," he whispered to me.

"Especially with all of the murders around us."

"They could murder the both of us if we let the cat out of the bag."

"We could end up in bags ourselves." I dropped my gaze back down to his chest and his stomach.

"That'd be a shame," he pointed out.

"I couldn't be able to feel you," I whispered. Something caught his eye and he tilted his head to the left to check it out. His eyes enlarged and he looked as though he was holding his breath.

"What's the matter?" I asked him.

"Chris, don't look now, but—" I couldn't help it. I turned to look.

Blood dripped down the side of the wall across from us. My heart hammered inside of my chest as I found out it was oozing out of the vent in the ceiling. Right where Ceecee, Clara, and Overkill had stood a mere few moments earlier.

"There's blood. Blood everywhere." I looked to the right to find even more blood running down the wall down the corridor from us.

"You have to kiss me," he whispered to me; his voice was husky and delicate, a far cry from the soaring powerful shriek I had heard over the past few nights.

"Here?" I demanded.

"Yes. Please. Please, Christina—I'm begging you, Mama."

I pressed my lips onto his again. Even though blood and the feeling of death surrounded us, I never felt closer to Joey than in that moment. The dead weight of the guitar case pressed against my back so I pressed my body against his. We were making out as blood trickled out of the vent and the trimming of the corridor over our heads. I never imagined I would make out with a boy in such a morbid setting.

He clasped his hands to the sides of my face.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," he told me in a hushed voice.

"Let's," I agreed with him. I led him out of the corridor as even more blood fell out of the vent to our left. Even with the heavy weight on my back, I managed to run with him right behind me. We hurried out of the venue as a few police men wrapped in black cloaks passed us to the side door there.

"There they are—" I heard Lars' voice to the right of us. Joey put his arm around me and ducked his head away from the pouring rain. We caught up with all them congregated there at the sidewalk. Frankie offered his umbrella to us; on the other hand, Charlie offered to take my guitar case off of my back. I stretched my arms to give Ceecee and Clara both hugs, and then one to Joey himself to feel his softness yet again.

"Bastard mutilated one of Metallica's stage hands," Scott told us.

"Who?" I asked him as I moved my hand away from Joey's side.

"The King of Hearts," Clara filled in; there was a soft thud behind us. I turned to find two of the police men tossing things to each other. Since it was raining, I guess their hands were slippery.

"He followed us over here to the East Coast," Ceecee added. "Dan from Nuclear Assault said he stabbed that poor guy and ripped his heart straight out of his chest." Thud.

"When did it happen?" Joey asked her with a mortified look on his face.

"No idea," continued Ceecee. "Dan poked his head out of the window up there—" She gestured to the second level of the venue behind us. "—and told us to call the cops—" Thud. "—and then Clara and I remembered you and Joey were still in there."

Thud. I felt Joey put his arm around me. He called me "mama" in there as the blood was coming down around us.

"What do we do?" I asked them.

"Blend in," replied Frankie. Thud.

"Since we're hopping all over the Northeast, he's having a hard time catching up with us," said Clara as her dark lenses peered off into the darkness.

"Hartford's out of the way," said Danny. "Pretty out of the way, too—" Thud, thud. "He'll be in the City first before we're done. And then we're going to the Big Apple afterwards, and then into Canada."

"It's New York City," Charlie assured me, "—it's big and foreboding. He'll never find you ladies."

I have to take Charlie's word for it, and I still have, even now as writing this entry and looking back out the window again. I can't help but have an unsettling feeling within me. He's out there somewhere with that knife in hand. He's out for my blood and out for it in such a way that he's willing to kill anyone to get to me.

#new chapter #fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #metallica fanfic #anthrax #metallica #heavy metal #thrash metal #dark romance #horror romance #blood tw #gore tw #also on ao3 #also on wattpad #smut

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thesnapewecandreamof · 5 years

Text

Through All Life’s Sorrows and Delights

Well Anon, count this as my fifth entry to the wecandreamof challenge I imposed on myself I’m beginning to regret since instead of letting the plot bunnies go, they’re coming back stronger than ever. They’re increasing like horny...ohh, I see where the name comes from now.

Anyway, I was contemplating another AU where Severus has someone who loves him(very sad that that needs to be an AU) and will protect him. I got really into it and re-wrote it a few times. Nearly ended it in angst but pulled back in the last minute. This is so late and I am so sorry!

I’ll swim and sail on savage seas

With ne’er a fear of drowning

And gladly ride the waves of life

If you will marry me-

Matthew Greenwood was one of St. Mungo’s brewers though he specializes in spell damage treatment. He and Severus met on a Potion’s Convention and had quite the opposing views on various topics. They resolved their differences within the privacy of the sheets and both agreed that it was a one time thing.

It obviously wasn’t.

Matthew met Severus’ colleagues when they invited him for tea. Granted, they dragged him to a secluded room with barely enough light and implied great pain if he should harm Severus. The Potion’s Master burst into the room before things got too creative, Severus said he was a potion’s enthusiast he was having academic talks with and Matthew had to stop himself from smirking at the professors. He bid farewell to his new friends but he had the feeling of being watched every time Severus and he go out for their dates.

No scorching sun, nor freezing cold

Will stop me on my journey

If you will promise me your heart

And love me for eternity

They were both private people. It took awhile before any of them realized that they weren’t just convenient companions in the chambers. They had a big fight when Matthew said he wanted something more.

Severus was stubborn but in the end he did relent. Matthew took it upon himself to show Severus how to trust. He wasn’t a fool. He saw the records. Severus worked as a spy for Voldemort and Dumbledore and was vital in defeating the dark. He knows that there is a faded Dark Mark upon that pale skin but he wasn’t frightened or disgusted, quite the opposite really.

Severus was also there when Matthew had his nightmares, his demons rearing their ugly heads to disrupt the peace they found in each other. There was a reason they were drawn to each other of course.

My dearest one, my darling dear

Your mighty words astound me

But I’ve no need for mighty deed

When I feel your arms around me

But then Voldemort was back. And Matthew yelled himself hoarse trying to persuade Severus against going back.

“You don’t have to prove yourself, Severus. You don’t have to be the brave spy, not to me.”

Matthew wasn’t much for sappy romantic words but he’d read a whole book of romantic crap aloud if that means Severus would stay.

“I have to go Matthew, you know that.” Severus squeezed his hand once before leaving.

When he came back hours later, he was shaking, pale and nearly unconscious. Matthew grasped his hand tight as he led him to their couch to be treated. It wasn’t the last time Matthew had to treat Severus.

But I would bring you rings of gold

I’d even sing you poetry

And I would keep you from all harm

If you would stay beside me

They broke up. Matthew came home one day and found Severus with bags packed and waiting for him. It didn’t surprise him. Severus had began to grow distant and Matthew was trying to break down the walls he destroyed once but Severus rebuilt. It was painful.

Severus looked at him with blank eyes, and Matthew returned it.

When Severus stood up, Matthew had to swallow back any begging he might have said. Matthew Greengrass does not beg. Severus approached him and he moved as if to grasp his hand but abandoned the motion half-way.

As the Potions Master reached the door, he looked back and Matthew cursed as he reached for the potion stained hand that was so familiar in his grasp. Something shifted in Severus as their eyes met and for a second Matthew thought he won. But Severus’s eyes turned blank a second later and he was gone out the door.

Matthew looked at his hand. He could have swore that Severus tightened his grip. But that wasn’t important anymore because a few months later Dumbledore was dead and Snape was Headmaster.

I have no use for rings of gold

I care not for your poetry

I only want your hand to hold-

I only want you near me.

Matthew was trying to stop the bleeding, to stop the venom from spreading, to keep Severus alive and awake. He was surprised with himself when he kept the ring he bought and tied it around his neck. More surprised at the number of times it heated up against his skin during the past months. It was a lifeline of sorts between him and Severus. Every time the other was hurt, the ring would heat up.

He recalled an instance when he got hurt trying to fix the spell damage on a patient. Severus came running and the hospital grape vine was quick to embellish the tale.

His heart nearly stopped when he felt the ring grow cold. He grasped it, trying to warm it with his hand but it only grew colder. Matthew concentrated until he felt his surroundings changed and he saw him. Severus, on a pool of his own blood, barely clinging to life. The healer inside him took the wheel and potions floated near him as he assessed the damage.

“Look at me, Severus. I’m here now, now stay awake.”

There was a soft smile on Severus’ face as he looked at Matthew, his eyes back to normal, without any walls to hide behind. Matthew missed him so much but he had so many things to do.

“Remember? You promised me you’d make it out of this war. That you wouldn’t let yourself get killed.” Matthew said as he helped Severus drink the needed potions.

They’d be cursed if he apparates them to St. Mungo’s but Severus needed medical attention immediately. That was when The Boy Who Lived showed himself. Potter didn’t seem to believe what was happening, he might have suspected Matthew of harming Severus for he took out his wand. Potter began blurting out how Severus was a spy and how they planned Dumbledore’s death and how he was Dumbledore’s man through and through. Matthew would have rolled his eyes if he didn’t need the Potter boy to calm down the staff in St. Mungo’s.

Severus would never be anyone’s man but Matthew’s if he had anything to say about that.

“I’ll be with you Severus, you just have to hold on, alright?”

He held the limp hand in his and smiled as he felt Severus holding his back.

To love, to kiss, to sweetly hold

For the dancing and the dreaming

Through all life’s sorrows and delights

I’ll keep your love beside me

The staff of Hogwarts have gotten used to seeing him in Severus’ room. They were shocked at first, seeing a stranger holding Severus’ hand. They mentioned an incident involving a hickey Severus failed to cover up. Apparently his loved didn’t think it important to bring it up to them, Matthew did value his privacy.

“Yes, thank you for that. It was quite an interesting night for us after your talk.” He made sure to look at Flitwick just enough for the man to get his message and laugh, dispelling any tension they may feel. It was an educational night for him and Severus indeed.

They kept the talks light, never mentioning the battle, Severus’ time as headmaster. They talked about things they found infuriating about the man they cared for.

“Do you honestly believe he came back from those Death Eater meetings unscathed and ready to teach the next day?” He watched the staff flinch and he suppressed a smirk, “You can trust him to take care of your plants and make sure your students are safe during his potions class but you can never rely on him to take care of himself. Honestly, he has the self-preservation instinct of a flobberworm.” They share a laugh and he wonders how they dealt with Severus playing the villain the past year.

“You’re a healer.” Minerva says and he nods. The other’s have left and only she and him remain. Visiting hours are almost up but it never did apply to him.

“If you’re going to ask about why I am not in-charge of his care then that is because I do not trust myself to have clear judgement.” She looks at him curiously, his bluntness had the tendency to startle people sometimes. “I have healed him before, many time in fact, but this-“

He takes a breath. The healer’s voice rings in his head. “They are not very confident he would make it.”

“But the anti-venom they’re using is the same one he developed himself, is it not? It healed Arthur Weasley, why wouldn’t it work on Severus?” She asked, he can sense the fear she tries to hide and sighs.

“Mr. Weasley had the anti-venom administered immediately and had medical care available within the hour. Severus-“ He gripped the limp hand a bit tighter, Minerva’s eyes following it. “The healer’s are not a hundred percent certain but the snake hadn’t had the horcrux in it when Arthur was attacked. They think that some dark magic is boosting the venom.”

The witch grappled for something to say and he waited for her to gather her words. “Severus is strong, he would not have lasted this long if he isn’t.”

He smiled. He doesn’t tell her that there are more complications every day. How Severus’ heart is weaker, his nervous system a mess, because of the cruciatus he faced as a spy. He doesn’t say anything about the venom still wreaking havoc and attacking the potion master’s weak body. Already weakened by the stress of the previous year and almost ready to drop if it weren’t for the stubbornness of his mind.

I’ll swim and sail on savage seas

With ne’er a fear of drowning

And gladly ride the waves of life

If you would marry me

Severus was a fighter through and through and he always kept his word. Matthew held his hand as he talked about his day to an unconscious Severus. He felt tears fall as the limp hand squeezed his and the black eyes opened.

I got reaaallyy carried away. I’m not sure if you wanted it to be a weasley, anon, but as much as I wanted it to be all vague, it just didn’t work so I decided on an oc.

#wecandreamof #Severus snape #post-dh #severus x oc #day 5 #angst #fluff

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doomedandstoned · 5 years

Text

Meet Corey G. Lewis, The Dude Who’s Bringing Grunge Back

~By Jamie LaRose~

Art by Ben House

With the new album sinking into our consciousness, 'Deathspiration' (2018) by The Misery Men invokes the necessity to dig a bit deeper into the creative processes behind its craft. I had the chance to follow-up with Corey G. Lewis, mastermind of the music, and take a glimpse at the band's evolution as portrayed by sound. Deathspiration was recorded and mixed by Steve Jones of Ancient Warlocks at Big Sound Productions in Seattle, and features Jones as drummer.

Deathspiration by The Misery Men

The intro track is reminiscent of reflections, leading into a blasting presence of a second track. This album seems to tell a diverse story, can you explain some of the inspiration behind Deathspiration?

Well the intro track is sort of an homage to Neil Young’s Dead Man soundtrack. I’m also really into Dylan Carlson and EARTH. Before I discovered Earth, I’d always described The Misery Men as, Western Doom Noir. That’s evolved into me describing it as Stone Drone. Nevertheless it’s reminiscent of the space between the notes, and the chaos that occurs. The song Sughrue is about C.W. Sughrue, a character from the book Last Good Kiss by the late great James Crumley, also an old friend. Sughrue is a Private Dick that goes off looking for missing woman. “Like a train” barreling down the highway, from Montana to Mexico.

Oh, most importantly, the inspiration behind Deathspiration is the evolution of me as a human. The cathartic shedding of skin. "Harnessing the Darkness" and riding the waves. Sometimes I feel we might be desperate to reach death, to know the truths, while we attempt to be inspired to live life, as we pass through all the adversity, and perspiring blood, sweat, and tears in these moments of our existence.

Deathspiration by The Misery Men

Do you have any secrets of sound to share? What types of techniques present The Misery Men persona?

My secret sound really is simplicity, and the ghost of Leo Fender haunting my amp. I run a 70’s Music Man 112 RP 65-watt amp with an EV bass speaker, through a 2x12 THD Cab, with a phaser pedal, and a Little Big Muff. A wall of fuzz, that is grizzly, meaty, and punchy. I don’t really try to be the tone guy, but I get more compliments about my tone than anything else.

Deathspiration by The Misery Men

"Night Creeps In" presents itself to me as the vertex of the Deathspiration story, it feels ritualistic and defining. Are there any rituals you perform while in the writing process?

This song in particular was written after a girl I was dating for only a week, told me she was going to kill herself. It was pretty heavy, and at the time she texted me, I was walking past Lone Fir Cemetery and wrote her, “sometimes the night creeps in, looking wretched weak and thin. Smiling with its meathook grin.” It was a very heavy experience. When I wrote this song about seven years ago, I was just really getting deep into Dax Riggs of Acid Bath. He’s definitely had a big impact on my music writing since moving to Portland.

Deathspiration by The Misery Men

Aside from the release of Deathspiration, are there any other exciting current happenings with The Misery Men?

We played at Dante’s not long ago with Chris Newman Deluxe Combo. Chris is quintessential to the Portland rock scene and to the whole Pacific Northwest in general. He is famous for his band Napalm Beach, who released their first album in 1981. Without Napalm Beach, The Wipers, and Dead Moon, well Seattle “Grunge” just wouldn’t sound the same. We might all still be playing Hair Metal!

Officially, Deathspiration has been out since last December, but this week it will launch on all digital platforms worldwide. This fall around September or October, expect a new two-part album to drop digitally, recorded by Witch Mountain and The Skull’s own Rob Wrong! It’ll feature 3-4 different local bass players and a couple local drummers, all guitars and vocals have been recorded, and bass/drums will be done by July/August. So far, we've got interest from bass players Billy Anderson (yes, the famous Sleep producer), Matt Howl (Mammoth Salmon), Wayne Boucher (Troll), and Jaden Mcginiss (Legendary Peavy owner, Doorman, Boudicca). All of this will be recorded in Rob’s basement, the same basement Elliott Smith practiced in.

I decided that my second album needed to be done sooner than later, after the 1st was seven years in the making. Deathspiration was recorded in Seattle with Ancient Warlocks drummer Steve Jones, I’m very happy with the way it turned out, it was analog with no filters, no frills, just my raw intensity. The second though I feel needs to be done here in Portland, it is after all according to Greg Sage, DoomTown. Unlike the first one, it’ll be all digital, but still raw and real, capturing my live performance sound. I’m also likely going to have a variety of drummers on the album playing different songs, perhaps even some legendary Portland drummers!

This week I begin practicing with a new drummer for two upcoming gigs. On Saturday, July 6th, we'll be playing with Chronoclops and Stereo Creeps from Seattle at Misdemeanor Meadows in Portland. It's a free show. Then on Friday, July 26th, The Misery Men will be rocking Gil's Speakeasy for a $5 show that includes The Sleer and Breath. I'm Working on gigs for August on through the Fall.

Do you have any memories of childhood that are notably similar to your current state of mind? What type of things about your childhood self were spot-on about who you become? What was your favorite toy?

I knew I’d always wanted to be a Rock n’ Roller or an actor in films. Like pretty much as long as I could remember. I dressed up almost every Halloween as a Punk Rocker in the '80s. My first concert of grand scale was Poison and Warrant 1989, in Bozeman, Montana -- I was in 5th grade. That show changed my life. I also dug rocks in my grandparent’s backyard, but not for pleasure -- my grandfather took advantage of child labor! I’m a rocker through and through. I think I’ve followed my dreams pretty spot on.

Favorite toys were probably GI Joe’s, Star Wars, or my SEGA Genesis. I also built wood swords from fence posts and painted them with finger nail polish as a kid. Think I may have accidentally got high!

What was the moment when you could feel music has become a part of your life? How has writing music helped you, and those around you?

Well, ever since I could remember music was a part of my life. Listening to my mom’s old tapes and records as a kid really impacted me. I was always surrounded by music, my grandparents owned a Rock n’ Roll bar I’m the ‘60s, '70s, and '80s, called The Wrangler Bar in Livingston, MT. It’s featured in the film Rancho Deluxe about some wild young cattle rustlers, starring Jeff Bridges, and Sam Waterson. There’s a scene with Jimmy Buffett playing "Livingston Saturday Night" while Jeff and Sam play Pong. I’ve played that same machine as a kid! There was always a jukebox, I loved playing Jefferson Starship's "We Built This City," Joan Jett's "I Love Rock n’ Roll," Ozzy's "Bark at the Moon," Pat Benatar's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" and "Hell Is For Children," and Billy Squire's "The Stroke"!

In 7th and 8th grades, I really was into The Doors, The Beatles, Hendrix, and I was in a English class for kids who couldn’t really focus on reading Lord Of The Rings. In this class our teacher would have us listen to our favorite music at home, then with the feelings we got, write our own poetry. I often listened to Hendrix, especially Axis: Bold As Love and Electric LadyLand, so there were plenty of references to fantasy in my early lyrics. This really helped me learn to become a lyricist, and take an interest in poetry. Most importantly, it gave me an outlet. Around the same time, I got heavy into Henry Rollins. When I saw the video for "Liar" with Hank all painted red, I thought, “I wanna be that guy!” I bought Get in The Van and it became my Bible. All the while I was into Nirvana, Alice In Chains, and Soundgarden.

Is there a way to describe when you feel most productive or most relaxed? How is your state of mind best explained while writing music?

I’m most productive when I feel inspired. Or when the Sun is out and I’m well rested. I like the Sun, except in extreme heat, then I wanna murder the Sun. I was born at night, so I’m a Moon child. I definitely get more inspired and productive writing at night. A few years ago when I was reworking an old song that turned out to be Harness The Darkness, I took a wee bit of LSD or mushrooms -- I’m more of a microdose kind of guy -- found myself going down some deep wormholes to connect a lot of dots that would go on to make up the six verses of the song, that I eventually dropped into four, because it was the most exhausting song to play! I’m a Beatnik kid. I got into the Beat style of writing early on. So, letting the stream of consciousness come flowing out seems to work well for me. I can keep a pretty decent rhyme or off rhyme too.

What is the most peculiar thing that anyone has ever said to you?

Hmmmm. Can you keep a secret? From experience, always tell them no, because sometimes people will lay some heavy shit on you, and maybe you didn’t want to be that person to carry their burden. I’m not a Priest, or a therapist, sometimes it’s fine to listen to friends, but there’s some things you can’t unhear or unsee!

Do you have a message for the universe?

I call it the "Megaverse," as coined by quantum physicist Leonard Susskind -- but my message is to be real, be compassionate, be loving, be forgiving, be understanding, be courageous, be ever evolving, and in the words of E.T.: “Beeeeee Gooooooddd.”

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goldenchildkatsuki · 6 years

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‘POISON ME DADDY’

a kacchako drabble, but also not really

Summary: Uraraka, an aspiring musical enthusiast, runs away from home to chase her dreams and audition for one of the biggest musicals in the country. As she takes one of the first buses to out of town she meets Bakugou, a drummer who has recently left his band and is on his way to somewhere.

Writers note: I'm back from vacation! Though it was really nice meeting two of my best internet friends I did miss writing every day. Whilst I was in Paris, my favorite band The 1975, decided to drop a new song called: Love It If We Made It. Amazing song, I would recommend you to listen to it, especially when reading this fic.

Anyways when I heard this I immediately felt something and I knew I had to write something that suited the vibe it gave me. Very self-insert I know. But it's been a while since I wrote anything I really wanted to write. So yeah, I've gone and did it and I decided to title this work to a line from my favorite verse from the song:

“And poison me daddy I got the Jones right through my bones Write it on a piece of stone A beach of drowning 3 year olds Rest in peace Lil Peep The poetry is in the streets Jesus save us! Modernity has failed us”

(see the end for notes)

Word count: 6.848

AO3 link: (x)

Uraraka couldn't believe she was hungry already. She had hoped getting a ticket for so early in the morning would stall her stomach demanding for food so early on in the trip. But alas, her stomach had started twisting in knots and let out noises of frustration just after checking-in.

She couldn't exactly blame her stomach for asking for food only six hours into the day. At this hour Uraraka would usually be woken up by the smell of a widespread breakfast being cooked by her father. In the early morning, he would prepare himself a bulky breakfast before heading off to a long day of work and leaving most of it for his wife and daughter to enjoy as soon as they woke up. It was hard to stay in bed when the smell of the well-known ‘Uraraka Omelette' seeped through her door and she would find herself at the kitchen table with her dad, trying to fight off sleep as they enjoyed their food together.

But today her breakfast was a granola bar she found at the bottom of her travel bag. Something she most likely shouldn't eat, since she had no indication of how long it had been laying there. Being extremely hungry was undoubtedly better than throwing up the small content of her stomach that would consist of a granola bar gone bad.

Near the check-in was a shop, a small market or some sorts. Uraraka had peeked inside and saw that besides the usual travel necessities, crisps and sweets they also had something that actually could serve as breakfast. She watched freshly baked chocolate rolls being handed over the counter like it was the new big thing. The scent flew out of the shop into the open and was starting to dominate the brisk morning air. It had her watering at the mouth and smacking her lips.

The longer she stood staring the more upset her stomach got. Uraraka put a hand over it, rubbing it in small circles in an attempt to calm it down. As someone walked right past her nose with yet another chocolate roll, she clenched her fist.

It would be really nice to get one. But that would mean she would have to look for a different hostel, essentially downgrading. And that would practically mean sleeping in a box on the street. With a huff, she turned around on her heels and walked away from the shop. Who knew she would already be angry with herself? Already beating herself up over the decision to leave home as soon as she just had enough money. Had she focused more on money instead of practicing she wouldn't even have to think twice about buying a stupid pastry.

In the end, it wasn't worth digging nails in the skin over. Uraraka could have seen this coming from the moment she decided on the date. But she had to leave the place. Staying there for more than a second would have made her feel sicker than this empty stomach of hers. She hated it so much. How her home made her feel empty as a shell. It made her feel so unhappy to the point she was willing to do the thing she feared the most; being on her own.

Uraraka didn't tell her mother, she didn't tell her father. She didn't tell a single soul. Without a single goodbye, she walked herself to a bus stop out of town and bought a bus ticket. With a boarding pass and a bag with a couple of clothes and other necessities in her hand, she stood among a few tourists. Close as she could be, she stood next to them, trying to avoid the mischievous looks from the homeless that had been circling the area.

She tried to tell herself to not be scared. She had no right to be scared. This is what she wanted. This is what she actively decided to do. And who was she to judge those people anyway? She had been raised better. Not every stranger roaming around the street was out to get you. Though they kept making eye contact with her and winking, flashing their dangling yellow teeth at her, it didn't have to mean anything.

She didn't have to zip up her coat or hide behind one of the largest men among the group of tourists. Uraraka didn't have to, but she still did.

Uraraka practically cradled against the man's back as a homeless man made his way onto the sidewalk, trying to whistle at her. The broken notes of a wolf whistle she tried to block out by squeezing one eye shut. If she didn't move, if she didn't show how shaky her breath was then maybe the homeless man would back down. Or maybe if she pushed into the tourist's back, he would say something about it, which seemed more likely.

At first.

Like a kid, huddling to their parent when meeting a stranger she stayed close to the man but he didn't say a thing. A few times he turned around and he did not have the friendliest of faces on. If he wasn't going to speak up, was anyone going to? Was no one seeing this? Was no one worried for the obvious youngest woman in the group?

She had no right to be scared. This is what she wanted. Yes. But Uraraka would've appreciated a little bit of empathy, an ounce of concern.

If someone would just speak up, she would have some faith for the rest of the journey. That she wasn't only going to encounter people that gave less than two shits about her. That she would be fine. The chances of her getting hurt were smaller than she thought because there would always be at least someone…

Right?

The whistling came closer and closer and right before she tugged at the strap of the man's shoulder bag a bus pulled up to the stop. The girl jolted and immediately she made her way to the bus. Almost standing on the parking spot Uraraka waited for the bus the park. The other travelers started gathering behind her. At last, she could let go of her breath as she saw the homeless scatter away from the enormous vehicle.

Uraraka shuffled away from the big, bright headlights and trickled in front of the door, waiting for it to open. A loud puff of air escaped the bus and it leveled with the sidewalk. The bus driver opened the door and without saying a word he opened the luggage room. Confused the non-native speakers walked towards the room and waited for someone to help them with the luggage. The bus driver just stood in front of his door and yawned at the people, with no indication whatsoever to help anyone with their bag.

She watched along with him, how the people slowly started understanding what was going on. Grumbling and spouting unknown curses under their breath whilst they shove their luggage under the bus.

"This doesn't really need to be under there, can I just get in?" Uraraka asked the bus driver.

His eyes shifted from her to the bag, slowly he closed them and nodded. The girl let out a relieved sigh and handed the boarding pass to him before heading in.

It was more crowded than she expected it to be. Almost every seat at the front of the bus was filled. Sleepy heads leaning against curtains or shoulders. Open mouths and light snores.

Scared to wake anyone up Uraraka shuffled past the first couple of rows. The travelers were either traveling with someone or didn't want to and made it clear by putting all their belongings on the seat next to them.

Surely, the company couldn't have made a mistake? Sold tickets for seats that didn't exist?

As Uraraka started approaching the back of the bus she got nervous. But then in the faint yellow lighting, she spotted two seats. She picked up the pace, as people were starting to walk up behind her and would without a doubt push past her if she wasted their time. Careful to not get her bag caught she rushed up to the seats and saw that it was

A seat.

The window seat she was hoping to get was occupied by a guy slouched over in his seat. With his arms crossed and his head hanging forward he lightly snored. Uraraka tried to make herself light as feathers when placing herself next to him. She put her bag between her feet and took off her coat. Every now and then she would check on the guy, and every time she checked he would still be in a deep slumber. After making herself a little more comfortable Uraraka couldn't help but snicker a little at the passenger next to her.

Wearing an oversized denim jacket, over a hoodie that he propped up and tied tightly around his neck. His butt so close to the edge of his seat it made her a little nervous, neck in a worrying position. The boy looked rough. The shadows that cast on his face didn't reveal much, but you could just tell he had one hell of a night behind him.

Uraraka pushed herself closer to the middle armrest as the tourist passed her with their arms full of bags. She could feel the rhythm of the boy's breath against her arm. It was so slow. What had he been through before he got on this bus? It must be a hell of a journey because if you didn't pay proper attention to him, you would think he was dead.

When everyone was seated a loud sound of static filled the room, followed by white noise. Around the bus, heads started lifting up and turning around. After a moment of radio silence, the voice of the bus driver sounded through the intercom. Louder than anyone anticipated, louder than favored at this hour.

It woke the boy next to her up it was that roaring. He shot up cursing and grabbed onto the window curtain and his seat, lifting himself back up his chair. With the back of his hand, he wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth and then slid it over his squinting eye. After he calmed himself down, he looked over to his right and looked her right in the eye.

"That seat is taken." He mumbled in a low voice.

Uraraka frowned. "Excuse me?"

"It's taken." He repeated.

The heart rate of Uraraka sped up and she looked around the bus that was full and already on the move.

"I-is there someone on the t-toilet that's supposed to be sitting here?" She asks as she peers at where the toilet is located.

The guy rubs his other with his thumbs and groans. "Lift your ass."

"Erm?"

"Just stand up!" he raised his voice at her.

With a throat thick with saliva she couldn't bring it to defend herself against the sudden rude manner of the passenger. With no real aim, she moved. Did what she was told and lifted herself off the seat. As she tried to swallow down the thickness in her throat, she grabbed her coat from the seat. She wanted to move away to the back of the bus, see if she could squeeze herself in between people but Uraraka was held back by a tug at the sleeve of her coat.

"Where the fuck are my drumsticks?"

"Your what?"

The guy stared at the empty seat and then back at her. When he saw that she really didn't have a clue what he was talking about he ran his hands over his head. Pulling down the hood he revealed his sand blond, spiky hairdo that managed to stay contained inside of there.

"Fuck! I knew I couldn't trust anyone in this fucking bus. Those were expensive sticks as well. I just got those motherfuckers. I swear to God I will-"

The blond guy went on a tangent, completely ignoring Uraraka who awkwardly stood the hallway, and the people in the bus, who were all trying to get some sleep. Not sure what to do, Uraraka crouched next to her chair and placed her hands on the floor.

"-shake every bastard around until I get back what's mine. They could kick me off the fucking bus if they wanted to, I don't care. No one messes with-!"

"Your sticks?"

Uraraka took her head from beneath the seat in front of them and stuck a pair of drumsticks in the air. She made her way out of the tiny space and sat back down next to him.

"They must've slid off the seat when the bus made a sharp turn or something."

The boy who had fallen silent the moment he saw the wooden sticks, looked at her with wide eyes. Like a child that had been surprised with something he long wished for he looked at the pair. Uraraka stretched her hand out further towards him and gestured for him to take them. His lit up face, slowly turned sour as he also started realizing that was more commotion than needed. He yanked the drumsticks from her hand and sank back in his seat.

"You shouldn't leave you sticks on an empty seat in a crowded bus like that next time."

"And you should ask if a seat is taken instead of just sitting down." He said whilst putting his sticks in the pouch of his hoodie.

Uraraka perked up in offense and turned to him. "Hey! You were sleeping, so was I just suppo-!"

Before she could finish her sentence she was abruptly interrupted by a loud shush coming from the split in between the seats in front of them. Angry eyes went back and forth between the teens. Whilst the boy rolled his eyes at the bothered traveler, Uraraka held on to her jacket and hid her face in the fur attached to the hood.

Both of them didn't say a word for a while, the guy had even turned himself away from her and leaned against the window. Uraraka could've done the same, turned towards the aisle and listened to music for four hours straight, but he bugged her. Words that were no longer relevant wanted to come out and waited in the starting blocks of the tip of her tongue. Strongly she bit down, trying to hold back the thought. But before she knew it she was already lifting her lips from each other. Sliding her feet and pointing them to the left, turning her head and taking in a deep breath.

"You should take better care of your instruments." She whispered.

The guy lifted his chin from the palm of his hand and snorted.

"Oh please, what the fuck do you know about taking care of instruments?"

Uraraka laid a hand on her throat. "I'm doing it right now." She continued to whisper.

The blond that had stuck himself to the wall slowly came off of it and gave her a once-over with his eyebrows raised. He snorted again.

"Wouldn't take you for a singer." He said cockily.

She's not exactly surprised that the boy told her that. As harsh as it was, it wasn't the first timer Uraraka has heard that. Not many people knew she could sing. The few that did were very encouraging of her talent. Told her her voice was one of the best they had ever heard, that they could listen to her forever, that anyone would be lucky to have her voice. But as soon as Uraraka started to talk about auditioning for musicals and getting into art schools, their compliments would revert. The people around her would tell her that it was a stretch, that you needed more than a ‘nice voice' to make it in that branch, that she shouldn't even bother getting in that branch anyway since the income wasn't the best. Genuinely hurtful things they would tell her and they would mask it with laughter and a deceiving sweet tone of voice.

Even her parents, the only two people on this entire bright, blue planet she hoped would understand her passion, dismissed what she had dreamed of since she hit her first clear note. Obsessed with the idea of a stable income, they were less than happy when they found out Uraraka was auditioning for plays instead of looking at college's like she told them.

‘You can't make money with a stupid hobby!'

Her dad told her in a heated argument, right in front of the theatre he had caught her leaving.

‘The only way you can do that is investing a lot of money in it, which we don't have!'

‘We don't have money to buy you new clothes and get your hair done for every audition. We don't have the money to get you singing classes and piano lessons. And we definitely don't have the money to keep you in those prestige schools!'

‘So please do your us a favor and let it go.'

He continued to rage on.

Her dad wasn't angry, he was hurt.

It was like she betrayed him.

And though she understood his concern.

It was more upsetting to hear that he doubted her than hearing that she hurt him.

To think that her dad, who was the reason she started singing in the first place, believed she didn't have enough skill and drive to get to the point where she could do what she loved and earn a decent living of it.

It broke her heart.

After that mess of an afternoon, everything Uraraka did other than sing and dance was a waste of time, an attempt to hold her back. The people that loved to hear her sing but doubted her, her parents that kept a close eye on her and everything related to school. They didn't help her. They didn't help her focus on one of the biggest auditions of her life.

Uraraka wanted to raise her voice. She wanted to go into the audition, with all she had to offer, even if it was little and belt her god damn heart out. To think that she considered slowly ‘letting it go' and staying silent. Those were the most unbearable days of her life.

It was so boring, so quiet, so empty.

So now she was here, on a bus to her audition, talking to whoever that guy may be, about the usual.

"Didn't take your for a drummer." She replied.

"What?" The boy said whilst poking one of his sticks out his pocket.

"I don't know why I said that you put me on the spot and this is the only comeback I could come up with. Even though I heard this many times I still can't come up with a good-" She spoke fast.

"Wow, that was pretty fucking horrible." He chuckled at her and continued to look at her.

As if he was still trying to see the singer in her. It was kind of embarrassing that he was looking at her that long. Was it really that hard to make out? What would he even be looking for? Not wanting to make herself seem little to someone who she suddenly felt the need to prove herself so she didn't turn away. Even when Uraraka felt the warmth rushing to her cheeks, she tried to remain calm.

Suddenly he locked eyes with her and stared right into her. What an intimidating eye he had. He really was scoping her out, wasn't he?

After apparently have seen enough of her, the boy leaned back in his chair and took out the sticks from his pouch.

"Bakugou." He simply introduced himself.

She nodded. "Uraraka."

"I do take you for a drummer actually…Not just because of the sticks! You have that whole punk rock look going on." Uraraka said in an attempt to spark more conversation.

Bakugou looked down at himself and pulled at the buttons pinned to the chest of his denim jacket.

"You look like you should be in a band."

Bakugou sputtered and scowled. "Well, you're off there. Way fucking off. I actually just got fucking booted from a band."

He spun a stick around his fingers and glared to the floor.

That's the last thing Uraraka expected to hear, it did pique her interest though. However, the drummer didn't elaborate on his last sentence. Even when looking at him directly he didn't bother to continue. The longer the silence stretched the more interesting the boy became.

Then Uraraka thought of something. It was not the nicest of things to say. But whoever says A, has to say B.

"Well, it's just a band after all, not something you can really base a career on, so it's not that big of a deal right?" Uraraka divulged.

She tucked the curly baby hair strands behind her ears and stuck her nose in the air in the opposite direction. In the corner of her eye, she could see Bakugou straightening up in his chair.

"Just a band? Just a fucking band? Some musician you are, out of everyone you should know that it's not just…Tch."

Uraraka turned to him and let out a small hum as a response.

"And fuck off with your ‘career bullshit'. Fuck everyone that tells me I can't make it anywhere with my music. No one has any idea what I'm fucking capable of. I'll destroy everyone with my sound. I'll take over the world with these two wooden fuckers alone. Just watch, in a year, you'll see me on billboards and the only thing you'll hear blasting through the car radio is me. You'll be a speechless moron in a year. Just shut up and watch me."

The way he said that it wasn't a threat, but more like a promise. Though he sounded menacing, almost terrifying even, his passion shone through his words more than his anger did. Bakugou said all the things she never dared to voice. He said it with so much pride and confidence she was almost jealous of his attitude. She couldn't imagine how many times he had heard that particular sentence from people. The way he got riled up made her imagine he had heard it more than enough times. Which makes him even more admirable, that he still could essentially give her a big middle finger and speak so passionately about his talent and continue to work on it.

Now, she felt bad for trying to trick him into talking.

Uraraka cracked a soft smile. "That wasn't very nice of me, was it? I was only teasing you, Bakugou. Believe me, I could never say that to another musician. It's the most horrible thing to hear after all."

Bakugou's face slowly softened and he ceased the spinning of the drumstick. She could tell he wasn't fully buying it yet.

"Why do you think I'm on this bus?" She asked.

"Aren't you just a runaway?" he scowled.

"No, well, yes, technically. But I reckon I'm doing the same thing as you."

"So you're saying ‘fuck it' and went off on your own to become a legend."

Uraraka laughed. "I guess you could say that. It sounds a lot cooler than if I said I ran away from home so I could audition for a part in a major musical."

Bakugou shrugged. "Tomato, Tomatoe."

With his sticks, he lightly tapped on the small windowsill. He drummed a soothing rhythm, that wasn't too loud to get shushed at for.

"But musical, huh?" He unexpectedly continued the conversation.

Her heart skipped a beat. The same way it always did when someone showed interest in her passion. She had to refrain herself for not speaking too loudly and rambling until the words were barely understandable. Uraraka kept her breath steady and simply nodded at Bakugou.

He didn't seem like he would be into that plays and that sort of thing at all. They actually looked like opposites of a scale. But still, he gestured for her to continue speaking. Whilst keeping somewhat herself in check she told him everything she had refrained herself from gushing about for so long. Uraraka talked about the musical she was going to audition for, how long she had been preparing herself for that, how hard she tried to perfect her modern dance moves by herself, how many hours she thought she spent behind the piano in school. She could hear herself going from a whisper to a low voice when she started talking about the teachers of the famous art school that would be at the audition, how happy she would be if they recognized her talent and wanted to take her in. How she could finally silence her friends and parents. How amazing it would be if she could make them proud.

During her story, Bakugou kept nodding along and drumming the same rhythm on the windowsill. Every now and then he would let out a huff of air through his nose or click his tongue against his teeth. He waited until Uraraka got everything out before speaking up.

"So you actually were just teasing me." He said.

"You only starting believing me just then?!"

"Of course. Still trying to figure out why you said that though."

"Because I wanted to know why you got booted from your band!" Uraraka raised her voice at him as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

Bakugou sighed. "Again, you should've just fucking asked."

Uraraka wanted to say something back at him, about how he, yet again, didn't exactly look like he was in the mood to be answering any questions. But she stopped herself, as he seemed to be in deep thought, scowling to himself. As if he was in a debate if he should even tell her or not.

"Do you want to tell me why you were kicked out from the band or not?" Uraraka asked straight up, to somewhat help his inner confliction.

"Well, now I have no choice but to say it. Since I already said I would if you just asked."

"Not exactly but…"

Bakugou ran both hands through his hair and then folded his arms.

"Booted, kicked. Both weren't really the fucking case. They threatened to kick me out and then I just left. I have been with those guys for what? Three fucking years? And I bet those guys didn't think I would actually leave. But how could I not? I don't want to be working with idiots that don't plan on doing bigger and better things. When it finally looked like we were going somewhere, they said it was ‘as big as it's going to get'. No fucking way I'm sticking with that."

Uraraka should've seen something like that coming.

"Why did they threaten to kick you out?" She asked.

"Because I was ‘asking too much of them'. I wanted more rehearsals, bigger venues, more recording. And those weaklings didn't seem up for it."

She also would've left if that was the case. Imagine, spending three years with people you thought you were on the same level with only to find out that wasn't the case at all. Though, she could imagine it was hard for him. After three years she imagined they became pretty good friends.

And though Bakugou didn't refer to his bandmates as that, it became pretty clear he shared a special bond with them. He was quick to show her videos they had put on their YouTube channel, showing her small they started and how big the venues were they played at now. He boasted about how much more they could achieve, how they could do so much better.

Uraraka was obviously a musical star at heart but she couldn't say this wasn't something she also wanted. The single earphone Bakugou had handed her she pressed right into her ear and leaned closer to the phone screen. So many people shouting and dancing. So much heart and soul going into performing the songs, that did sound more catchy and pop-y than she thought it would. Their songs were one hundred, no, one thousand percent something that could hold their own in charts. Anyone could sing along to them, but they weren't too generic. Even if the genre wasn't for everyone, you couldn't really hate it.

Bakugou knew that too. That's why he didn't want to give up and keep expanding. Enthusiastically he showed videos of his favorite performances. Pointing out how the lead singer couldn't even see straight during that one performance because she caught the flu but still rocked it. Trying to contain his laugh when looking at the stunned face of the bassist when seeing the large crowd at their first performance.

Quickly Uraraka learned what kind of band they were. What kind of people were in it. A diverse group, she must say, but a rather fun one.

Their personalities especially sparked when Bakugou showed her the older videos on their channel. She could tell that now the drummer was feeling more nostalgic than irritable. Genuinely cracking up at the older days where the band still did covers of songs.

"Look at fucking Kaminari here, you know he could barely play a single note at this point?" Bakugou pointed at the screen.

"Jirou looks so shy here! She's really changed!" Uraraka ogled and bent over the armrest cackling.

Bakugou wiggled his shoulder and she perked up. She only just realized that she had been invading the drummer's space as if it was nothing. Huddled up to him as if wasn't a stranger at all. Uraraka tried to hide her flushed face by pretending to raise one of her tube socks.

Under her seat, she counted from ten back to zero before raising her head again.

When she reached zero, she would regain her cool.

…4…3…2…1…0

She looked up and saw that Bakugou had lifted up the middle armrest between them. He held the one earphone between his fingers and drew his brows together

"What?"

"Nothing…Just…Socks you know?" The girl couldn't help but stumble over her words.

Avoiding his eyes, she took the earphone from him and focused on the screen. He scooted over to her, well over the barrier that was once between them and started another video.

This one had them cracking up so much, they even got shushed by the people sitting next to them. Bakugou would subtly flip them off and Uraraka would press her hands over her mouth, trying not to make a single sound.

"Tokoyami looks so distraught, I can't stop!"

"Jirou had so much patience trying to teach Kaminari an instrument. Look at how fucking done I looked with them. Yaoyoruzou too, I never heard her sigh this much in my life! She had the roughest time teaching Kaminari how to play the piano though."

He cackled, removed his jacket and raised the sleeves of his hoodie. As he made himself comfortable again something came to Uraraka attention. She took his wrist and turned it to reveal the inside of his arm.

"Er…"

Bakugou had a tattoo at the inside of his arm that said ‘Poison me daddy' in rather big letters.

He looked up at her and groaned.

"Before you say a fucking word. Watch this."

The guy clicked on another video that was titled with the same words as the tattoo had. Apparently, it was some kind of challenge video. Where three members of the band picked out a piece of paper out of a hat, each piece of paper contained a random word and with the words that were picked the band had to make a song from scratch.

After they showed the process of making the song, the final product started playing and Uraraka recognized it. Uraraka looked at the number of views the video had and saw that it had gone viral. She had heard the lyrics being sung around her many times and had even listened to the song herself on repeat for a couple of days. It was quite a comical song, but somehow still so good it could be played at a radio station.

Remembering the lyrics she quietly sang along with them, with the brightest smile on her face she swayed from left to right. She felt the drummer looking down on the crown of her head. For the first time, he didn't commentate over the video. He just stayed silent, not minding her bumping into his shoulder. Bakugou fully paid attention to the sound of her voice.

When the video ended he remained speechless, only when Uraraka moved from beneath him to look at him, he started speaking. But not properly. He got tongue-tied and restless, fumbling with his phone and the cord of the earphone.

As she scanned him, trying to figure out what was going on with him, she noticed the top of his ears. They were flaming red.

Was he actually flustered because he heard her sing for the first time?

Before she could dwell too much about and become an awkward mess like him she continued to talk about the topic they were on.

"So…The tattoo?"

Bakugou immediately took the chance to move on from the horrible state he had put himself in and started explaining.

"We were at our first sold-out show. Naturally, I was fucking excited. In the heat of the moment, my stupid ass said: ‘The first thing I can hear a fan above the crowd shout I will get tattoo'ed on my body.' And I should've known it would be fucking ‘poison me, daddy'. How embarrassing it is, I'm no man to go back on my word, so I did it."

Uraraka stared at his arm and read the line over and over, remembered the melody of the song whilst she read it and looked Bakugou in the eye.

"It's not really embarrassing. It's bound to a good memory. So I think it's quite cool, really."

Now his whole ears had turned red.

"Shut up! Enough about this! You still haven't seen the best shows yet!"

Before she knew it, he had thrown an arm around her and pulled her into his chest. She felt his warm neck, resting against the back of her head and the hot puffs of air blowing on the top of her head.

At first, Uraraka was scared to move. She was tense and tried to make herself somewhat levitate above his body. But Bakugou kept pressing their bodies closer together. He played the next video in the playlist and adjusted himself to the curves of her body.

He really didn't mind having her close to him.

Uraraka's fingers curled around the fabric of his clothes and pressed her ear closer to his chest.

It was going a million miles a minute.

He had such a strong and loud heartbeat, but it was as calming as the rhythm he drummed at the start of the journey.

She couldn't help but focus on the sign of his life than the music that went into the other ear.

The drumming sound of his heart was frankly better than any song he played.

It might be one of her favorite songs.

Uraraka wanted to keep listening to it. But the way he had started to comb her hair behind her ear and scratch her head at the same time, it made it hard to stay awake. Her grip loosened and the heartbeat started fading.

She heard the closing of the curtains, just before she could feel herself doze off.

"Hey." Bakugou poked her cheek with a finger.

"Hm?"

"Do you want to start a band?"

"Hm."

"Awesome."

EPILOGUE

When Uraraka opened her eyes again, it felt like only a single second went by. But when she tried to lift her head she felt the full weight of Bakugou on her. He had fallen asleep too. Now she was careful to move. Practically laid still and looked around her.

Bakugou's phone was on the ground, the fingers of her left hand were loosely intertwined with his. His rough and blistered fingers felt strange against her soft ones. Curiously she shifted her hand closer into his and her stomach felt light upon feeling more of his touch.

The sudden white noise of the intercom made the drummer shoot up again. His grip immediately tightened around Uraraka, which made her stomach even lighter.

"We're taking a 15-minute break before going onto the highway again. Please be back in time."

Static ended the short and brief message and everyone started rising from their seats. Uraraka turned to Bakugou and watched him stretch underneath her body and rub the remaining sleep out of his eyes.

"Want to get some air?" Uraraka asked.

"Sure."

She moved off him, grabbed her coat and her toiletry bag and walked to the nearest exit of the bus. Bakugou was right behind her and mumbling complaints about the bright sky. Once grounded on the gas station's parking lot, she took out her phone. She had avoided touching it since the start of the journey, scared of how blown up it could be.

"I'm going to go take a leak." Bakugou quickly said and he ran in the bathroom's direction.

He watched him disappear into the bathroom before unlocking her phone.

There were a lot more miscalls and texts than she expected. She went through the dozen messages left on her phone and it made her stomach turn from peacefully light to stone heavy. Her dad was pissed, even more, angry than the day he caught her leaving the theatre.

She felt all of that emotion, in the several texts that said the same thing.

"You better be okay, Ochako."

Uraraka swallowed and hovered her thumb above the keys. Tears were starting to swell up in her eyes and she had looked to at the sky. In the corner of her eyes, she noticed someone waving at her. She tried to blink her tears away and looked over to see Bakugou waving her over.

Uraraka put the phone in the pocket of her coat and ran towards the guy who held the door to the toilet open. A little sketched out Uraraka looked around if anyone saw them.

"Come."

He pulled her into the bathroom that was definitely not meant to fit more than one person. Her lower back was pressed against the sink and her arms were mushed against Bakugou's chest. He loomed over her and looked over her head.

"So do you still want to start a band?" He asked sternly.

Uraraka could vaguely remember him asking her that but she hadn't changed her answer.

"Yes."

"Good."

He took her hand that held on to her toiletry bag and zipped it open. Casually he took out one of her lipsticks and held it in front of her face.

"See, if we want to get ourselves out there, we have to make ourselves known. So let's start out by writing the name of our band on a dirty gas station bathroom mirror. You know that's how all legendary bands got known?"

"Really?"

"No, I'm fucking with you, but I did this with my previous band and it worked so, fuck it right?"

Bakugou opened the tube of lipstick and leaned over, making her bend backward over the sink completely.

"But we don't even have a name yet."

"Of course we do, I thought of one when you passed out."

When he was finished he took a few small steps back so Uraraka could turn around. With big red letter he wrote the words;

‘Runaway Rioters'

On the mirror.

"I like it. I like it a lot."

He wrote it down a few more times, not just on the mirror, but also on the walls and on the door. Until the lipstick was smooshed and unusable. Then he opened the door and threw his arm around her.

"Don't even you dare sulk about that damn lipstick because you know I'll get you a new one." He said as they walked out of the bathroom.

"I can get you like fifty when we become famous. You'll fucking nail your audition and I will keep being awesome and then we'll become legends together, got it?"

Damn. The guy was cool. Though this dream of his seemed very child-like, she was willing to go along with him. He was the only one that believed she could become something, a legend of all things. It would be stupid if she didn't pour a least a little bit of faith into him, stranger or not, he was pouring at least some of his faith into her.

She leaned her head against Bakugou's chest and unlocked her phone. She created a new message to her dad.

‘I'm sorry for leaving without telling you. But I can assure you that I am okay.'

Uraraka glanced at Bakugou.

‘More than okay. You'll see me soon. Lots of love.'

Writers note: I've got more ideas for self-insert fics brewing in my head. So stay tuned!

#bnha #kacchako #bnha kacchako #kacchaco #bakuraka #bakugou x uraraka #uraraka x bakugou #kacchako fic #kacchako fanfic #kacchako fanfiction #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #uraraka #uraraka ochako #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #jj writes

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makeyourlivesextraordinary · 6 years

Text

AU Yeah AUgust Day One-Soulmates

I used the first prompt on this: http://virgno.tumblr.com/post/149729543490/soulmate-au-where-instead-of-having-the-first

So thank you very much to them for the prompt idea!

This strays away from canon towards the end, just to let you know. ( I mean it is an au so that’s kind of implied, but I just wanted to say that).

I hope you all like it! :D

Neil was around the age of six when he started noticing the tattoos on people’s arms. Pretty much everyone in his class had one, including himself, and many of them were the weirdest, most preposterous sentences he had ever seen. This could be due, of course, to the fact that he was six and six-year-olds were not known to have the best vocabulary, but he still had a steadfast determination to find out what the words on his arm meant.

After school that day, when his mom picked him up, he asked,

“Mom, why do a lot of people have weird words on their arms? What do they mean?”

His mom, a timid and sheepish woman, simply replied,

“You don’t need to know about that. Someone will tell you when you’re older.”

He knew better than to ask his father. His father was always very busy and when he came home from work often had no time for him, instead choosing to be holed up in his study, reading or on a business call.

Although he was disappointed with the answer his mother had given him, he was still determined to find out the meaning of the strange words etched upon his, and most others, arms.

The next day at school, he was playing at recess, when a boy, slightly taller than him with a mischievous grin on his face came up to him and said,

“I heard you’ve been asking around about the tattoos?”

“Tattoos? What does that mean?”

“The words on our arms.”

“Oh! Yes, I have! What do they mean?”

The boy brought Neil over to an area where no one was around and he said,

“My ma said they’re words that ‘a special someone’ will say to you someday. She says that person will be a huge part of your life.”

“Okay. Well, I still don’t really understand, but thanks for telling me, uh, what’s your name?”

“Charlie,” the boy said, extending his hand and with a big grin on his face.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie.”

***

Neil was sixteen now. Ever since that day that Charlie had told him the basics about what he came to find out were called “soulmate tattoos”, he was determined to find out everything he could about them. Also since that day, Charlie and he had become best friends.

Even with all of the interviewing people and looking at their words, Neil still felt that his words didn’t really make any sense. Sure, a lot of the phrases that showed up in tattoo form on people’s skin didn’t make sense out of context, but Neil studied his phrase which was “a sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain” and wondered what the context for such a phrase could be. He read through book after book, trying to find any reference to a “sweaty-toothed madman” but he had found nothing. What could this possibly mean?

Neil spent his entire summer trying to come close to finding a meaning for his tattoo, but he found nothing. Charlie always told him he would drive himself crazy doing this, that the right person would come along, but Neil was starting to get worried. He worried daily about who his soulmate was and what they would be like and were they a boy? This last question he only ever kept to himself, not sure how anyone around him would react to his asking of such a question, but he had to know. Since Neil was younger, he had always been gay and he knew it. So he worried about the day that he met his soulmate. The only other thing his mother had ever said to him regarding the whole soulmate situation was that “he would meet a nice girl someday”. Hardly anyone in his class had met their soulmate yet, but all those who had were straight. Did same-sex soulmates exist? Was he weird? Was he alone? Would he have to live a lie for his entire life? These were questions that haunted him daily and kept him awake at night.

Some of these questions were answered finally the day Charlie found out who his soulmate was. Neil remembered being in his room, studying for a Trig exam, when Charlie burst into the room and said,

“Neil! I found him!”

Neil looked up. “Found who?” he asked.

“My soulmate! Neil, I found my soulmate!”

Neil smiled really big and told Charlie he wanted to hear everything, which was true, but on the inside, he was throwing a party. His best friend had a male soulmate! It was possible!

“So, you know how Meeks and I always sit next to each other in Chem?”

“Yes?”Neil asked, confusedly because he thought Charlie would want to be telling him about his soulmate, not Meeks.

“Well, Meeks dropped his pencil and so I bent down to pick it up for him. I said, ‘you gotta watch where you throw those things!’ and then Meeks gasped. He said, ‘I-you-what?’ and then the words on my arm just disappeared.”

Neil knew that words disappearing meant his soulmate had said the words to him so that must mean…

“Meeks is your soulmate?”

“Yeah! He is! And I’m so happy, Neil! I’ve had a crush on him for so long.”

“You did? You never told me that.”

Charlie sighed and looked a little guilty.

“I know, Neil, and I’m sorry, but I didn’t know how you would feel about me liking a boy. I’m not ashamed of who I am, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to lose my best friend over it.”

Neil’s jaw had dropped open and Charlie looked scared.

“Neil?”

Neil snapped out of it and said,

“I didn’t know how you would feel about me being gay!”

“You’re gay?”

“Yeah! I’ve always known, but I didn’t tell you for the same reasons!”

The two of them hugged and then Neil asked if they could talk.

“Yeah, Neil, what’s up?” asked Charlie concernedly.

“I’m a little worried that my soulmate won’t be a man.”

Charlie said,

“The soulmate system knows people better than they even know themselves. I wouldn’t worry about it. Whoever your soulmate is, they’re the perfect person for you, trust me.”

***

The first day of junior year, Neil introduced himself to the new boy and his new roommate, a boy named Todd Anderson. He did a double take upon seeing him for the first time because he was so stunning, but he managed to pull himself together and just talk to him. Being new in general is hard, but at Welton, where there’s so much pressure to be the best one can be, well, Neil figured Todd would need some friends, or at least, familiar faces to help him get by.

Neil noticed how shy Todd is and he felt for the boy. But he wanted to try everything he could to make the boy feel welcome and included. He was determined to befriend him. When his friends came in and talked about the study group they were gonna be forming, Neil made sure Todd was invited. Even though he doesn’t end up going, Neil still wanted to make it clear that he was always welcome.

Having always been interested in each person’s tattoo and what they said, Neil was very curious to see Todd’s, but he was never able to see it. He knew that Todd was a very private person and very shy and so he figured he should stop trying to see it since Todd probably hid it on purpose.

When the English teacher, Mr. Keating, told them about a club he used to be a member of called the Dead Poets Society, Neil was eager to get it started again. Charlie, always having been one to call along with his plans, agreed to be in it as well. All of his other friends-Knox, Pitts, Meeks, Cameron, and, of course, Todd-were also invited. Some of them, including Todd, seemed very reluctant to join. It didn’t really surprise Neil that Todd hesitated. He did everything he could to accommodate for Todd, having him be the secretary so he didn’t have to participate, but could still be present.

The school year was getting off to a pretty good start. The boys were starting to get settled into their courses and Neil kept trying to befriend his shy roommate. Mr. Keating, after his lesson one day, told them each that they would have to create an original poem to recite in front of the class. Neil knew this assignment would be tricky for Todd, but he was also very interested in hearing what Todd would write about. Whenever he wasn’t working, Todd was always writing and Neil was excited at the prospect of getting a look into what Todd wrote.

Neil wrote his poem and he didn’t think it was very good, but at least he had given it a try. He decided to go into town to pick up a newspaper and maybe some candy. He felt he deserved it because he had finished his homework. While in town, he noticed a poster hanging on the town board. Having just talked about Shakespeare in Keating’s class, Neil approached the poster when he saw the words “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” by William Shakespeare. As he read the poster, he was getting more and more excited. They were gonna be holding open tryouts! He went to Henley Hall, where the auditions would be held, to inquire about getting a copy of the flyer. Once he had done so, he ran home, excited to tell Todd.

When he went into the room, he noticed Todd was sitting on his bed, scribbling furiously. He told Todd all about the auditions and although Todd seemed nervous about it at first, because of what his father would say if he found out, he eventually seemed happy for him. Todd told him that he could take care of himself, but Neil wasn’t having any of that. When one is in Neil Perry’s life, they’re there to stay. He takes care of his friends. Friend...is that what Todd was to him? Not really, but he’d take that over not having Todd in his life at all.

He took the opportunity while Todd was distracted to grab Todd’s notebook and see what he had been working on. He was shocked to discover it was the poetry assignment Keating had given them. Todd chased after him trying to get his notebook back, but he wasn’t going to just hand it over that easily. Cameron came in and asked them why they were making so much noise and soon enough, the whole gang was in the room, joining in on the fun. Neil couldn’t wait until poetry day. He knew Todd’s would be the best.

***

The day for poetry reciting had arrived and Neil was very excited. He was leaning towards wanting to get his poem over with so he wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore, but he definitely didn’t want to go first so he decided maybe he would go second.

Luckily, Knox volunteered to go first and read his poem about a girl named Chris that he wished was his soulmate, but was definitely not. She had already met her soulmate and so Neil cringed listening to Knox’s poem. He knew the guy was desperate for love, but he didn’t have to be such a creep about it.

He was getting ready to volunteer to go second when Mr. Keating spoke up. Knox had apologized for his poem being “stupid” and Keating told Knox that it was “a good effort” and then he called on Hopkins to go next since he had been laughing at Knox. Neil thought maybe he would go third then.

After Hopkins poor attempt, if one could even call it that, Keating asked who’s next and Neil was about to raise his hand again when Keating looked at Todd. He told Todd he should just get it over with when Todd said he hadn’t written a poem. Neil was taken aback when he said that. He knew Todd had written a poem. He’d read it! Neil honestly wished Keating would just let him be. He obviously was uncomfortable, but Keating wasn’t the type to just let things be. He made Todd stand up in front of everyone.

Neil was nervous for Todd. He knew he couldn’t be enjoying this experience at all. He wanted so badly for Keating to go easy on him. He watched as Keating tried to get Todd to “YAWP”. The first few attempts were quiet until Keating had badgered Todd enough to make him let out a loud “YAWP!”. Neil watched as Todd tried to sit down, thinking he was done when Keating had him look at the photo of Walt Whitman on the wall. He told Todd to tell him what it reminded him of without thinking. Just to say the first thing that popped into his head. Todd said a madman.

After hearing that word, Neil felt a weird sense of familiarity. He couldn’t quite place it. Keating kept at Todd, telling him to describe the madman and at first, he said crazy, but then Keating told him to use his imagination and he said “a sweaty-toothed madman”.

Upon hearing this, Neil clutched his arm. Could it be? Could Todd be his soulmate? But no, he hadn’t said the whole phrase, only part of it. Neil kept watching Todd, hoping upon hope that he was his soulmate.

Neil watched on as Todd closed his eyes and said,

“Uh, I-I close my eyes-

Uh and this image floats beside me.

A sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain-”

At this, Neil gasped as the words disappeared from his wrist.

Mr. Keatng looked at him.

“Mr. Perry?”

“Uh, I’m sorry, so sorry, I’ve uh, got to go. I think I’m gonna be sick-,”

Keating gestured to him that he could leave the class.

Neil wasn’t sure what was happening in the classroom. He just knew he had to get out of there. He was freaking out. His soulmate was Todd! Todd was his soulmate! He couldn’t even believe it. All this time he had been crushing on his actual soulmate! He was so happy, but then he remembered that if his parents ever found out, they’d kill him. And then he started freaking out again.

He just kept pacing back and forth in his room, unsure of what to do. He kept doing that until he heard a knock and the door and Todd said,

“Neil? Are you in there?”

“I am,” said Neil who kept on pacing.

Todd came in and Neil looked up at him, instantly feeling guilty. Todd looked sad and ashamed and embarrassed and all the things Neil was trying to help him be more confident about. And Neil had made him feel that way. He was so annoyed with himself.

“Neil? Did I? I mean, um, are you? Did it happen to you too?”

Neil nodded. “Yes, you’re my soulmate!”

“Umm, are you, I mean, is that okay with you?”

“Yes, Todd, yes it is!” said Neil, wrapping his arms around Todd.

“Okay good,” said Todd, a relieved smile on his face. “I just wasn’t sure because you left and I thought-,”

“I was just so shocked. I mean, I had liked you for so long and-”

“You liked me?”

“Yeah, I-”

“I liked you too. Just didn’t know how to say it.”

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

“Yes?” asked Neil, confusedly.

“Oh good, Neil. You’re in there. Are you okay?” Charlie asked.

“Yes, Charlie. I’m good. Really, really good,” Neil said, looking at Todd.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes, come on in.”

Charlie came in, saw Neil and Todd standing close to each other, looked down at their wrists and then went,

“Wait, are you two-?”

Neil smiled and Todd buried his face in Neil’s shoulder.

“We’re soulmates!” Neil said excitedly.

As it always did, the loud commotion eventually drew in a crowd as everyone wanted to hear the story about what had happened to Neil just now in English class. Everyone congratulated them and celebrated, but eventually, Neil kicked them out. He knew Todd didn’t like the crowds and also he wanted to spend some alone time with his roommate-turned friend-turned soulmate.

To Neil, it didn’t matter if his parents didn’t accept him, all that mattered was that he had found his soulmate and it was someone he was ecstatic to spend the rest of his life with!

#au yeah august #dead poets society #anderperry

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fyjjong · 6 years

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🌟💖 to jonghyun: my sun, my moon, my stars, someone who i'll love forever 💖🌟

i don't know how to start this properly so i'll do so by saying i'm coping the best i can be given the circumstances but it still feels like there's this void in my chest.

when i first started listening to k-pop i figured it'd just be a fun pasttime for me and, for the most part, it has been. i just didn't think i'd get as attached as i did to an idol as i did jonghyun because i'd never been the type to get super attached to celebrities to begin with but i was really drawn to him from the get go. i remember the first time i saw him in the "lucifer” mv. i was like: "wow, who is that dude" so i started looking into him and grew to like him quickly. this was before he started to show more of himself to shawols / the world. after that point he made his twitter and began to interact more with fans by showing how clever, intelligent, fun loving and socially conscious he was. and his sense of humor was so strange - which was something that i could relate to. that's probably when i knew he was going to be my ult for a long time. i remember when he supported kang eun ha back in late 2013 and i was so relieved because i was just starting to really come to terms with the fact that i was queer and it was comforting to know that my ult would accept me for that. in the short time that followed we were able to see him grow and develop as a person. he started to bare his soul to the world through blue night, always more than he was obligated to, and he was always graceful and thoughtful in doing so. i remember at shinee's fifth anniversary party when he debuted “beautiful tonight” to shawols. i was so proud of him because i knew that it'd always been his dream to make his own music and that was the FIRST time that he was able to share something with us that was completely his.

when it comes to shinee .. i haven't been here since the beginning. i became a fan during the summer of 2011 but i've always felt like i was present during the timeline that was the most pertinent in his growing as a human being. blue night was always so special to me because it opened us up to a side of him that he had been careful to share before then. people had these fixed stereotypes about him and, while some have lingered on, he was able to blow most out of the water through the show. without blue night we wouldn't have been able to hear a large percentage of his beautiful solo work. looking back i can see that this was a burden to him and it makes me ache knowing something he loved became such a weight for him but i'll always cherish the work that he gave to us. he was always trying so hard. it doesn't take what happened to know that. he never shied away from telling us when he felt lost or lonely or upset and he never made fans feel as if they were wrong to feel that way either. honestly he never made fans feel like they were in the wrong for anything. he'd support them through even their most ridiculous (and some of the funnier stories he got on blue night were proof of that) and the love he had for us was undeniable. you could see it in his eyes whenever he was given the chance to be face-to-face with us: at events with shinee, for blue night, for himself. it always looked like he was ... ridiculously content just breathing the same air as his fans. this extended to international fans as well. he didn't speak up on it often but it was obvious he knew about the disconnect / distance that we've always felt in being so far away from him and shinee. we got “selene 6.23" to show for that one. it was also thanks to jonghyun and the rest of shinee that i was able to make most of the close friends that i have today. that, and they were also so charming that i was able to have my older friends become a fan of them as well. they also gave me a reason to be able to travel twice in the last year and a half: once to chicago and another time to los angeles. i'll always be grateful that i was able to see them twice - that i was able to see him twice. i'm starting to feel too introspective so i'm going to switch over and talk about a few of my favorite things about him: 1) he wasn't perfect. he made mistakes but he always apologized and tried to make amends for them in the end. he was constantly trying to better himself and become education / sensitive to a variety of issues. i feel he excelled there, really. 2) his love for roo. i think it goes without saying that a good deal of the funnier content involving him was related back to roo. and remember the time she photobombed minho taking a picture of jjong with his music show trophies? yeah. 3) how much of his life he dedicated to making his mom and sodam feel loved and appreciated. i really don't know what else to add here that isn't obvious already. 4) he wasn't afraid to show the world the side of himself that was what most would regard as being "childish" or in geeking out about things that made him happy like naruto or how much he had fallen in love with (and been touched by) kimi no na wa. 5) when he wanted to cry he cried and he made sure that others were aware that it was alright to cry too, to be weak sometimes because to be "weak" is to really be strong. 6) he was such a great and caring friend. he just ... was. there's no denying that. he was always nonjudgmental and willing to be there for his friends at the drop of a hat when they needed him (like when he drove two hours to pick up dongwoo when he needed a ride home from a random location). 7) jinki. he was always a pillar of strength for him and this worked both ways. he took the spotlight for him when he wasn’t able to do it himself and he was always the first to understand his strange jokes and puns and play off of them. 8) kibum. he was kibum's first friend when they became trainees. we'll never know what kind of connection they had in full but it was obvious it was something special that went beyond words. 9) minho. minho is probably his biggest fan. he could read him like an open book and he was always the first to be there when he needed him most and it's obvious that hasn't changed even now. 10) taemin. he was HIS biggest fan. we all know that. he wasn't just his friend and brother but his baby and you could see how proud he was to see him develop as both an artist and person. i'm glad he got to see up to now even though it hurts me he won't see all he is capable of achieving. 11) the relationship he had with his blue night family - listeners included. they helped him so much. they gave him stories to use that helped broaden his work as a singer-songwriter and he developed meaningful friendships with both regular guests and pds. 12) taeyeon, suho, yoona, krystal, heechul, donghae, jungmo. all the friends that he made within sm when they began training who he knew for just as long as the other members of shinee. and all of those who have left sm since that were close to and meant a lot to him at a point as well, like luhan, jessica and tao. plus those that he became and stayed close to after debut. yeri, lee jonghyun, hongki, crush, zion.t, jung joon young, younha, tablo, wheesung, minkyung, gray, zico. i know they're all hurting too. 13) he wrote a beautiful book where he used all main characters as a template to show different sides of himself to readers. he was writing another book too and i'm glad he was at least able to share his idea for it with us. 14) he was able to release four amazing solo albums in such a short amount of time and i honestly feel like he helped to break some of the bias sm had toward allowing their artists to release their own work. 15) he wasn't afraid to gush over other men that he found attractive. looking back on his fanboying over gong yoo is always going to make me laugh. 16) i really loved how much he loved the moon and stars and space and mythology and all that whimsical stuff because he could be pretty whimsical himself at times. 17) how much of a dork he was for poetry. remember when he sent that wreath to wheesung with that bertolt brecht poem? iconic. 18) he really admired and looked up to prince. you could see his influence in both the sound and styling of his solo work and that makes the stereotypical minnesotan in me happy. 19) more of a random anecdote but how excited he was when he was dying his hair pink for "she is” promotions. the story about how he'd kept on showing the other members a photo of the shade he was trying for excitedly will always be one of my faves. 20) he was the kazoo king. 21) random little physical traits of his like his blingspot and all his pretty moles and birthmarks, his bottom teeth, how his legs were bowed. 22) how he pretty much laughed with his entire body and how his nose scrunched up when doing so. how expressive he was. how you could pretty much see every emotion he was trying to convey in his eyes and they'd sometimes sparkle like there was an entire universe in them (i used to say that a lot). i'll move on from the facts from now but this is ... a lot. emotionally. (death tw, suicide tw) honestly i feel like i can't say much else that hasn't already been said and that i won't be able to completely do justice to who he was as an artist, bandmate, brother, son, friend, colleagues, so on and so forth. but you can feel it at least. i guess words?? aren't really needed always?? you can feel it in how many people have went to pay their respects to him in the last day. he was SO loved and he left such a mark on the industry, not just of his immense and unique talent but because of how kind, generous, soft and understanding he was. i've said this a few times already to close friends of mine but as much as it kills me to know that he's gone and that he was in as much pain as he was i'm also relieved that he isn't feeling that pain anymore. what else can you really say in situations like these. he hurt more than anyone deserves to and maybe it's cheesy to say but a part of me feels like he was too good for this world. i've never really been religious but i hope that if there is an afterlife that he feels content, warm, happy and comfortable for once. maybe now he's a star, hanging around the moon, or maybe he's a star pup. that'd be wild. he'd probably love that. or maybe he's jamming out with his favorite musicians who've passed. who knows. anyway. i think that's all i'm gonna say for now. in the future i may revisit this post - maybe i’ll add on to it or maybe i’ll use it as a template to make a new one. who knows but the only other thing i can say before closing this off is that he'll always have a special place in my heart and i'll never forget him.

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