Tumgik
#like they’ll always be close and friends and it fuckin warms me black heart
tuukkarasksass · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Tyler Seguin posts a throwback to 10 years ago when the Bruins won the Stanley Cup
37 notes · View notes
thesightstoshowyou · 3 years
Text
Bo Sinclair x F Reader (NSFW)
           Summary: Bo wants you to pitch in a little more. He gets more than he bargained for.
             Warnings: Dubcon, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, slapping, degradation, facial, swearing, objectification of reader, alcohol use, mentions of death and violence.
 ~~
             “Put this on.”
             You drop the rag in your hands to catch the yellow floral dress before it smacks you in the face. You glare up at Bo from you spot on the linoleum. Your knees ache. You’d been scrubbing grime off the kitchen floor for two hours.
             “What for?” you ask, bracing a hand against the counter to heave yourself to your feet.
             “It’s time you start pullin’ your weight.” You look around you, flabbergasted. What had you been doing all this time, if not ‘pullin’ your weight?’ Cooking and cleaning all day, every day wasn’t enough for him?
             You keep your mouth shut. The answer is obvious. Of course, it isn’t enough. Nothing would be. If it was up to Bo, you would have been dead the first day you walked into this God-forsaken town.
             “Can I at least know what I’m supposed to do? You know, so I do it right?” You adopt a sweeter tone, hoping to quell the sour mood Bo always seemed to be in when he spoke with you.
             “Two college assholes campin’ nearby.” Bo adjusts his hat and crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame before continuing, “They’ll be needin’ a fan belt. Lester is on his way to get ‘em. Need you to bring one up to the house for Vincent while I take care of the other one.”
             What is it with Bo and fan belts?
             Then, the gravity of what he’s said hits you. Instantly, you pale. They’ve never had you participate before. You can’t do it, no way.
             “Bo—
             “You’ll do this, or I’ll make sure the next one on Vincent’s table is you. Got it?” He snarls, leaning forward and shoving a finger in your face. You clench your jaw, hesitantly nodding. What choice do you have?
             “Make yerself decent and meet me at the shop in a half.”
**
             You understand why Bo chose this dress. It’s tight, flaring out at the hips and hanging just halfway down your thighs. Your breasts are almost spilling out the top too. It shouldn’t be hard to lure a ‘college asshole’ up to the house looking the way you do now. You wonder which poor soul wore this dress before they ended up in the museum.
             You think you might be sick.
             As you walk to the shop, the oppressive Louisiana heat beats down on you, making you squint and pant. Sweat beads along your forehead and chest before spilling into your cleavage. You adjust your outfit, hoping to hide a little more skin. You feel exposed. The old wax woman across the street peers disapprovingly out her window. You flip her the bird. Poor old bitch.
             You round the corner to the little gas station, heart hammering. Lester’s truck isn’t there, but you can see three shadows inside the darkened shop window. You fluff up your hair, sucking in a huge breath. You can do this. You have to do this. You don’t have a choice.
             “Hey, Bo, need anything?” You adopt a honeyed southern accent, resting your hands on your hips, your face breaking into a smile. You hope it looks genuine.
             The three men inside turn to look at you. All three are apparently struck dumb by the sight of you. As you lock eyes with Bo, you fight the blush creeping up your neck. Baby blues rake over your body before snapping back to your face. He grins.
             “Hey, sis. Just in time.”
             Sis, huh?
             “These boys need a V-belt. I don’t see any here. You remember if we have any up at the house?”
             “Yeah, we just got some in today,” you chirp, reaching behind you to pull your hair off your dewy neck.
             “Would you mind takin’ one of these two up to the house to get it? I ought to go over cost of repairs here.”
             “Can do.”
             “Dibs!” shouts one of the boys, a tall, lanky thing wearing the stupidest sleeveless shirt you’ve ever seen. ‘Party with Sluts’ it reads. Okay, maybe this won’t be so hard. His friend punches him in the arm and he laughs before sauntering over to you, motioning for you to lead the way.
             “Hey, behave yerself. That’s my lil’ sister.” If you didn’t know Bo, you’d think he was teasing, messing with the kid, but the smirk curling across his face tells you he’s dead serious. No part of that smile reaches his eyes. You do not envy the kid you’re leaving here with him.
             “Bo! Knock it off,” you giggle, pretending to be embarrassed.
             If you were to look back on the conversation you had with the nameless guy you’re leading to his death, you wouldn’t remember a word of it. Your blood rushes too loudly in your ears to hear half of what he’s saying. You just giggle and play with your hair every time he speaks. It seems to be working.
             “Uh, kay, wait here, I’ll just run upstairs and get the belt,” you say a little too loud so Vincent can hear. You leave him at the bottom of the stairs, careful to accentuate the sway of your hips as you climb the steps so he’s distracted.
             Vincent wastes no time. As soon as you make it to the top, you hear a strangled shout, a heavy thud, then nothing. You don’t turn around.
             The second you make it to your room you peel the dress off your sticky skin and hurl it across the room. Desperately, you fight the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and the burn in your throat. You had to. You had to. You can’t die yet, not after everything you’ve been through.
**
             You carefully level off a cup of flour before tipping it into a bowl on the counter. You do the same with the baking powder, salt, baking soda….
             It’s three something in the morning. You haven’t been able to sleep all night. So, you do what you always do when you can’t sleep: You bake cookies.
             You gather up the butter wrappings and head for the trash can. As you move, you catch something out of the corner of your eye and jump in shock, gasping and bracing a hand against your chest.
             Bo leans against the doorway, beer in hand, mechanic suit half off and tied around his waist. He chuckles quietly when you grasp the counter and take a deep breath to steady your racing heart.
             “You scared the shit out of me,” you chide, tossing the wrappings into the garbage. You glance down, noticing your bare legs. Right. You’re only wearing a pair of panties and one of Vincent’s flannels. You didn’t think anyone else would be awake at this hour. Three AM usually found Bo passed out, Lester camping somewhere in his truck, and Vincent toiling away in the basement.  
             “I’ll go put some pants on,” you mumble, moving to leave the kitchen, but Bo extends his arm across the doorway to block your exit.
             “Nah. You look good in my shirt,” he comments, mouth quirking up at the corner in that stupid self-satisfied smirk he always wears. You glance down at the red and black checkered flannel, then back to Bo again.
             “I thought it was Vincent’s. I must have got it mixed up in the wash.” You swallow, looking away. You don’t like how he’s looking at you, like a wolf eyeing an injured lamb. He sets his beer on the top of the fridge.
             “No harm, no foul,” he murmurs, dropping the arm from the doorway to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. You jerk out of his reach, backing away. He follows leisurely, pressuring you until you’re backed up against the counter. He doesn’t stop advancing until his face is inches from yours.
             “Bo,” you mutter, a shaky breath leaving your mouth with his name. You say it like a plea.
             “Yeah?” he purrs, placing both hands on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. He leans in closer, so close you can smell the beer and cigarettes on his breath.
             “Please,” you whisper, voice trembling. He groans quietly under his breath at that.
             “Hmm, say that again, darlin’.” You shake your head, tensing when he reaches up to glide his fingers, feather light, across your jaw. He continues, “I didn’t like the way those fuckers were lookin’ at you today. Not. One. Bit.” He taps you on the nose in time with the last three words.
             “Well, they’re dead now, so….” You trail off, your hammering heart trying to force its way into your throat.
             “Mmm hmm,” he hums, “You did good today, baby. Real good.” You swallow, face heating up, a jolt of arousal sparking between your legs. His voice, the fingers stroking along your collarbone, his words; they’re having an effect on you.
             “Bo,” you beg again, more insistent this time.
             “You don’t like this?” he asks, stepping forward so you’re pressed flush against him. The heat of his body is overwhelming.
             “N-no, please, s—
             Your plea is cut off by the gasp that sneaks from your throat when Bo shoves his hand into your underwear and drags his fingers along your dripping slit. He brings them in front of your face, showing you how your slick shines in the low light of the kitchen.
             “I think you’re a fuckin’ liar,” he purrs, grinning wider, “Open your mouth.” You bite your lip and Bo strikes, gripping your jaw hard. “Don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart. You won’t like it.”
             Slowly, you part your lips, opening wider when he shoves his wet fingers in your mouth.
             “Clean ‘em off. That’s a good girl.” You roll his fingers and your own salty taste around on your tongue, sucking on them when he demands it. That pulls another low groan from him.
             “I knew that mouth was good for somethin’.” He pulls his fingers from your lips and pushes them back into your panties. You inhale sharply and bite your lip again when his deft fingers find your clit, circling slowly, torturously.
             “Fuck, you’re wet, baby girl.” The words are whispered against your lips, his warm breath washing over your face. You let out a shaky breath, forcing your hips to stay still and not buck like you want. You won’t give him the satisfaction.
             Bo chuckles against your mouth before dragging your underwear down your legs, kneeling as he goes. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder. Vincent could walk in any minute, or Lester, you’re right there in the open—
             Bo dives in, sucking your clit into his mouth and humming. All your thoughts derail, crash, and burn. Your eyes roll back and you grip the edge of the counter with one hand, the other flying to your mouth to muffle your wanton moan.
             He laughs, dragging his tongue up your slit and lapping at your clit, slow, deliberate licks with the flat of his tongue. You can’t help it this time; you grind your hips into his mouth and he grabs a handful of your ass to pull you closer. He slips two fingers into your sopping cunt, curling them and making you whine pathetically. Jesus Christ, you’re already close.
             “Bo, Bo, Bo, I’m…I’m gonna—
             And then he pulls away. Your frustrated gasp is silenced when Bo slaps the inside of your thigh, hard. It makes you yelp and try to squirm away. He stands and grabs your jaw roughly, squeezing painfully.
             “Uh uh, I don’t fucking think so. Yer gonna cum on my cock and nowhere else, understand?” You nod, skin feeling like it’s on fire. You haven’t been touched like this for six fucking months. You worry you’re going to be consumed by need. You’ll say anything he wants.
             “Oh, ya’ want that now? You want me to fuck ya’?” His lips are wet, shining with your juices, and inches from yours again. He grinds his hard, clothed length against your hip.  
             “Yes,” you slur. It’s hard to talk with his hand squeezing your face so hard.
             “You forget your manners, sweetheart?”
             “Please, Bo, please,” you beg, resisting the urge to jerk your head out of his punishing grip.
             “Good girl,” he praises, spinning you around and bending you over the counter. He tugs your arms behind your back, gripping your forearms with one hand while he frees his cock with the other. It slaps against your ass, hard and heavy.
             In one, smooth motion, he lines up with your entrance and slams home, impaling you. You shriek behind grit teeth. Your walls spasm around the sudden intrusion and you wiggle your hips in an attempt to adjust to the stretch.
             “Ohhh fuck, that’s tight,” he growls in your ear, giving you no time to catch your breath before he’s ramming into you. The wet smack of skin against skin echoes around the kitchen. Every thrust pulls a strangled moan or whimper from your throat as you desperately try to contain your sounds of pleasure and pain. Bo laughs cruelly, hot breath puffing against your ear.
             “What’s the matter, baby? Don’t want anyone hearing you get fucked?” He punctuates the last word with a particularly vicious thrust. You mewl, and Bo wraps his free hand around your throat, pulling until you arch uncomfortably.
             Despite the mean treatment, Bo still manages to push you to the brink of orgasm again, his cock battering that perfect spot within you. You can’t speak well at this angle and with his hand tight around your throat, but he feels you beginning to clench around him, feels your legs trembling violently.
             “Yeah, cum on my cock, sweetheart, c’mon, give it to me, fuck yes, yes, yes—
             You bite your lip so hard you taste the coppery tang of blood on your tongue. Hot pleasure curls through your core, numbing you as you tumble over the edge into bliss. Bo groans in your ear, releasing your neck in favor of digging his nails into your hip.
             “’M gonna cum. Yer gonna—f-fuck—gonna get down on your knees and open that pretty mouth, understand?” Dazed, you nod. Bo pulls out and as you turn around, he shoves you down to your knees so hard they crack against the linoleum. Your pained grunt is interrupted when Bo fists a hand in your hair, yanking your head back.
             “Open yer mouth, stick out yer tongue, yeah, fuck—
             His voice is tense, clipped, his hand pumping his slick cock. He utters a broken moan and you snap your eyes shut as he paints your face, lips, and tongue white.
             “Swallow,” he orders breathlessly. You do as your told, forcing the bitter taste of him down your throat. He hums in approval, releasing your hair. You wipe your face on your sleeve and crack your eyes open to peer up at Bo. His cheeks are flushed pink, sweaty hair clinging to his forehead, chest heaving.
             “Goddamn, you look good like that,” he says, mouth turning up in a crooked grin. After tucking himself away, he helps you to your feet and grabs a nearby washrag to blot away the cum staining your skin. Your legs wobble, your crimson cheeks growing redder the longer he grins at you. Bo smooths your hair back, tucking it neatly behind your ears.
             “There. Good as new.” He swats you on the ass, making you jump in surprise. “Now get to bed. I expect breakfast in the morning, as usual.”  
             What a bastard.
490 notes · View notes
heartofsnark · 3 years
Text
I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship (Misty/Fem!V/Jackie) Smut
Notes: Sooooo, this isn't really canon to my V's like story, as far as like her actual series goes (which you should look at if you want plot with your porn ayyy) but more of a fun what if, that I was possessed to write at 8am and am now publishing at 2:40 am cause I've lost control of my life and wanna see these three fuck. 
Warnings: Vaginal sex, cunnilingus, creampies, unprotected sex (fucking wrap it before you tap it, fucking hell Jackie) blowjobs, oral sex, licking cum out of a vagina, just porn, so much porn.
Summary: V has a problem, many problems, but we're focusing on the one for today. Her, Jackie, and Misty are friends; really good friends. Completely platonic and chill friends. They're her best friends in fact, the closest friends she's ever had. So, why does she want to fuck them so bad? 
*Also, the V in this is my own, she is a cis woman and also deaf. 
V has a problem, multiple problems if she’s being honest, but one in particular has been overwhelming her as of late. She doesn’t do romantic love, she’s told herself time and time again. A misguided crush as a child and a ‘what could have been’ when she was a slightly older child. Times when she thought she was in love or could have ended up there, but her hopes were dashed with cruel words or chance. And every other encounter since has been either platonic or just sex. You can be V’s friend or you can fuck her; no room for romance or muddy waters in the merc’s heart. 
At least that’s what she says. 
At least that’s what she thought. 
Then she met Jackie and Misty. The Heywood boy who took her in. His sweetheart of a girlfriend. Her feelings are platonic, she tells herself. Friends, practically family, a platonic sort of love she’s so rarely found. And that’s more than enough, her feelings and desires don’t go  beyond that, she tells herself. 
She watches Jackie workout at times, meant to spot him.  His muscle corded arms strained as he lifts weights, veins prominent and sweat tracing patterns down his skin. Freckled face flushed with exertion and V’s mouth dry at the thought of tasting the salt of his skin. 
But, they’re friends. 
V will catch herself staring at Misty from time to time when she visits the older woman’s Esoterica shop, getting tarot card readings and helping sort any new inventory that’s come in. Never missing the way Misty’s skirt rides up her thighs, showing a peek of soft thighs wrapped in fishnet stockings. 
But they’re friends. 
It's purely platonic when Jackie ruffles her hair, a big warm hand the size of her head, a grin wider than a canyon and sun glinting off his gold cyberware. The butterflies in her stomach and the flush on her face mean nothing more, they’re friends. 
And it's strictly platonic when she and Misty bleach their hair together, legs practically entangled when they wait on the couch together. The way V’s breath catches at the press of skin and the sound of Misty laughing is just…  They’re friends, really, just friends. 
They’re just friends, her mind screams when she’s sharing a bed with Jackie, pressed close to his warm body and inhaling the smell of his cologne. His large arms wrapped around her and thoughts flickering to if he’d let his hands move lover. 
Just friends, she tries to beat into her own head, when she’s reminded of Misty’s hands gently holding her bruised chin after a bad gig. Close enough V could nearly kiss her black painted lips, what would it feel like having dark lipstick smeared across her neck? 
They’re just friends, but sometimes she wishes they weren’t; she tells herself in shame after a night spent thinking of them in Jackie’s bed, him out on a date with Misty. V’s hand wet with her own slick after hours imagining she was pressed between them, the smell of her sweat sticking to his sheets. 
Moving out will help, she decides. A little more space, a few more boundaries will keep those lines from blurring so easily. Her friends, just friends, are there to help her move in and set up her new megabuilding apartment. 
Once everything is settled in, V orders them all takeout for dinner, the least she can do. The trio sits on the floor around her table, the holoprojector showing advertisements above their head. The curved built-in sofa is behind them, but its too far from the table to comfortably eat, plus it doesn’t afford the comfort of being closer to each other. Misty and Jackie sitting, nearly on top of each other across the table from V.  Trying not to stare at the way his fingers toy with Misty’s sweater. 
“Can’t believe you’re actually moving out, chica,” Jackie comments after swallowing down a mouthful of dumplings. She swears she hears a hint of melancholy in his voice, but maybe it’s wishful thinking. 
“Can’t mooch off of you and Mama Welles forever,” she signs and talks, comfortable talking when it's just them. The words flow easier, her throat less raw and blocked off. 
“For the billionth time, you ain’t no fuckin’ mooch, V.” 
“So you say.” V rolls her eyes and takes a drink of Nicola. 
“Personally, I’m happy about it,” Misty states and that soda suddenly feels like cement in V’s throat. One of her worst fears potentially realized, that Misty or Jackie see her as an interloper, an intrusion on their relationship. That Misty is sick of some random woman sleeping in her boyfriend’s bed.
“Why’s that?” Jackie asks, half of an eggroll in his mouth.
“‘Cause now I don’t have to sneak around Mama Welles to see V, too.” 
“Oh,” V swallows hard, feeling the air return to her lungs, “that’s right, I’ll never understand that whole thing. ”  
Misty is one of the sweetest people in the world and V’s always considered Jackie’s mom just as nice, but for some reason the two can’t seem to see eye to eye. Mama Welles hung up on Jackie getting back with one of his ex’s. 
“She’ll come around eventually, Ma just takes a while to warm up to people.” 
“Me, not people, just me. Pretty sure, she’d jump for joy if you and V were dating,” 
V chokes on her noodles, heat flushing up to her hairline at the thought. Not helping, Misty, not helping. Misty laughs at her, V trying to recompose herself. 
“Why would you say that?” 
“Uh, ‘cause it’s true!~ She adores you, V. Not that I can blame her.” 
“Pfft,” V rolls her eyes, scoffing, “trust me, she’d turn on me in a heartbeat if I tried to steal away her precious baby boy.”  
V teases Jackie, reaching across the table to squeeze at his cheek, he smacks away her hand, grinning and a flush of red across his cheeks. 
“Fuck off!” 
“True, she is so protective of her precious, Jaquito~” Misty joins in, giggling and scratching her nails along his chin. 
“I didn’t sign up to be harassed today,” he pretends to complain. 
“No sign up necessary, my harassment comes free and unsolicited~,” V reaches for an eggroll and accidentally knocks an open can of cola into Jackie’s lap, “shit!” 
“Ah, fuck,” Jackie flinches a bit as cold soda hits his crotch. 
“Sorry, sorry,” V blurts out, grabbing up napkins and starting to reach over the table to dry him. 
“I, uh, got it! It’s fine!” Jackie quickly stops her and she realizes she was a fraction of an inch away from trying to rub his dick dry. 
“Uh, right, sorry, I, sorry.” V falls back on her but, trying to pretend she isn’t embarrassed by the instinct. 
“Its okay, V,” Jackie insists, trying to dry his pants, “what’s a wet sticky dick between friends?”
“Jackie!” V yells at his innuendo, the audacity of this man, meanwhile Misty is giggling behind her hand.
“It shouldn’t stain,” Misty says when she stops giggling, rubbing Jackie’s shoulder, “I think you left some clothes at my place, you can change there, so you don’t have to wear wet pants all the way back to Heywood.”
And that’s right, they’ll be leaving at some point. She’ll be having her first night alone in her apartment, just her…  She taps her fingers against the floor, staring at a seam on her couch. She’s an adult, she reminds herself, she can handle being alone. 
“Yeah, we’ll go ahead and get out of your hair, V.” 
“Yeah, yeah, appreciate the help,” she hopes her signing and voice don’t give away her discomfort. Then there’s a gentle hand over her own, neatly painted black fingernails on her skin, warm and smooth skin compared to V’s more calloused flesh. Misty having shifted closer to the side of the table, so she could reach V. 
“Unless, you don’t want us to go?” 
“Uhh,” what kind of adult can’t be alone in her own apartment, V admonishes herself, “I-” 
“You still have trouble sleeping alone, right?” Jackie asks, raising an eyebrow, eyes concerned. 
“I mean… I don’t expect anyone to coddle me, I-” 
“It's not coddling, V, we care about you. Adjusting is hard and if us sleeping here tonight helps, we’re happy to do it.” 
“You know we’d do anything for you, chica.” 
“Uh, okay then, I can sleep on the couch and you two can have the bed-” 
“Pffft,” Jackie scoffs, “don’t be stupid,  we’ve been sharing a bed half that size for the past three months, V. The last thing I expect is for you to sleep on the couch.” 
“Okay, if you’re both cool with it.” 
And that’s how she ends up in her new bed with her two friends. Misty wearing a set of V’s sleep clothes, the shorts and shirt riding up slightly on the older woman just a few inches taller than the merc. Jackie stripped down to just his boxer briefs and V is accustomed to that she reminds herself, her partner in crime, sleeping in his underwear next to her more times than she can count. But, lately everything feels...muddier. 
V faces the wall, on her side, Misty and Jackie cuddling behind her. They nearly pulled her between them, but she stopped them, insisting she sleep fine so long as there’s just someone near her. And that’s true, the warmth and knowledge that she’s not alone helps plenty, but more so she’s just not sure she would have survived the night pressed between them. Even like this… she struggles to sleep, feeling their bodies radiating warmth behind her.  She stares at the wall and tries to name stars, her go to trick for sleeping. 
Then there’s shifting movement behind her, the feeling of the bed shifting a bit, and Misty’s foot slightly nudging V’s ankle. The little merc twists around onto her other side to see what’s going on, if Misty or Jackie need something and her breath catches in her throat. 
Misty is pressed tight to Jackie’s chest, the couple spooning with her back to his front. His face is pressed into her neck, V can’t hear his face nor read his lip, but she can see them moving against Misty’s skin. Jackie’s large hands are toying with Misty’s body,  one hand down between her thighs and the other pushing her shirt up to grope her breast. Misty’s eyes are shut, head arched back just slightly, mouth slightly open as her boyfriend teases her. 
V can’t help but stare, face a sharp shade of crimson, at the sight of the shirt being pushed up to reveal the underside of Misty’s breast, the muscles in Jackie’s forearm tightening as he fingers her.  Its a lot to take in, the sight, the feelings; the knowledge that they’d do this just inches from V. Desire and heat build in her center, her cunt getting wet at watching her friends fool around, finding herself imagining what it’d be like to have Jackie’s thick calloused fingers pushing inside of her or how soft Misty’s breast would feel in her hand. Then Jackie pushes the shirt all the way up above Misty’s chest, plump breasts and stiffening nipples on full display. 
V shouldn’t be seeing this; shame and humiliation mix with her arousal. 
Friends. They’re friends, damn it!
The speed at which V turns away from the sight, sends her half into the wall; knee and hands hitting it. She can feel Misty and Jackie shooting up behind her, mattress shifting, V tries to burrow down into her pillow hoping the two will somehow be convinced she just moved in her sleep. But the hand rubbing over her shoulder tells her that’s not the case. She forces herself to sit up and face her friends, just friends… 
Misty and Jackie are sitting up more in the bed, Misty’s clothes back in place. Their faces are both flushed, Jackie isn’t making eye contact with V.  Misty hands V her hearing aid case, a gentle unspoken request for her to put them in so it’s easier to talk. And V doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to deal with this, doesn’t want to ruin this. But she can’t deny the soft look in Misty’s emerald green eyes, sliding her hearing aids in. 
“Sorry, chica…” Jackie awkwardly apologizes the second V can hear.
“Okay…night... ” Is all V can manage, hoping this will be the end of it, hoping she doesn’t have to confront everything swelling up inside of her. V reaches up to take out her hearing aids, intent on just quickly pulling them out and rolling back over, to pretend this never happened. 
Misty’s hand reaches her face first, cupping V’s chin and forcing the merc to make eye contact. Though her eyes do drift back and forth between Misty’s lips and eyes. The closeness makes it all the  more tempting to just kiss her… 
But Misty beats her to it, nothing but tender press of their lips together. And V never in a million years believed of the three that Misty would be the one to break first.  Yet here they are, a soft kiss that lasts all of a moment before Misty starts to pull away, a quick peck meant to test the waters, but V chases after it, capturing the older woman’s lips again.  Her kiss is a far cry from Misty’s, hungrier, deeper and anything but chaste as she pushes her tongue into the blonde’s mouth. 
“Shit,” Jackie curses, voice low and hungry as he watches his girlfriend and best friend makeout. V smiles into the kiss, finally breaking away. 
“We’re a pair of  Catholic school girl uniforms away from acting out Jackie’s favorite BD, aren’t we?” V can’t help but tease remembering a few… select pieces from her friends collection. 
“Hey!” 
V falls back against the bed laughing, that sort of tension and fear melting away. Misty and Jackie laugh too; the sound music to V’s ears, the merc suddenly thankful she kept the hearing aids in.  They kissed and the world didn’t end. There’s no irreparable damage and if they wanted maybe they could all leave it there, a weird exchange that ended in laughter. Nothing has to change. One kiss between friends, no big deal. 
Then Misty is climbing over her, moving to be on the other side of V, pressing against that side as Jackie moves in closer; placing her between them. 
“Hello, can I he-” she starts to tease, then Jackie’s lips are on hers. His large warm hand on her chin, keeping her in place as he pushes his tongue into her mouth. She works to meet his movement, to give as good as she gets, kissing him back with the same passing. A moan leaving the back of her throat and dying on Jackie’s tongue when he shifts the angle to kiss her deeper. She grabs his bicep, feeling his muscles to anchor herself. 
And, okay, it’s two kisses now. What’s two kisses between friends?
Jackie pulls away, pressing his forehead against hers, rubbing his thumb over her chin. 
“Been wanting to do that for a while, mija,” he admits tenderly. 
And that’s it, it's all too far gone and she’s done caring. 
“Need you, both of you,” V finally says it, puts the words out into the world and prepares herself for what comes next. 
Then Jackie pulls her shirt off over her head, leaving V’s breasts exposed, her nipple piercings glinting in the lowlight of the room.  Delicate fingers push past the waistband of V’s shorts, Misty finding and stroking V’s clit as Jackie dips his head to suck at the merc’s breast. She whimpers at the treatment, overwhelmed and squirming as the couple plays with her body. Slick coats Misty’s fingers and V’s thighs, the merc’s cunt clenching with every rub of her clit. Jackie’s tongue teases and licks at her piercing, he sucks at her breast, feeling her nipple stiffen on his tongue. Misty’s fingers slip lower, pushing inside of V. Its all too much, V’s pleasure building higher and higher inside of her. Jackie gives a little nip, not a true bite just the slight pressure of his teeth on her breast just as Misty adds a third finger. And it snaps, V crying out as she cums on Misty’s hand, 
Jackie pulls off of V’s breast and Misty pulls slick coated fingers out of her cunt, the merc panting. 
“Didn’t realize you were that sensitive, V,” Jackie teases, breath hot on her ear. 
“Shut up.” 
“It’s cute,” Misty assures her, kissing softly across V’s cheek and neck. 
“So, cute,” Jackie says, but his voice with that edge of condescension before he bites her neck. She whines but responds by rubbing a hand over his cock, grinning when he jumps. 
“Yeah, let's see how well you handle it,” she taunts, pushing him back flat against the bed as she straddles him. 
His hard cock rubs against her, her shorts and his boxers the only thing between them. She kisses across his chest. Tracing her tongue along his tattoos and freckles, sliding her hand between them to palm his dick, feeling the warmth of it through the fabric. She trails her kisses down, watching his head dip back against the pillow, cursing under his breath as she makes her way lower and lower down his torso and stomach. She pulls her mouth away when it hits fabric, as much as she’d love to settle between his legs and tease him through his boxers, She’s not about to forget about Misty. 
V pulls away to press closer to Jackie’s side, looking up to see Misty, staring at them, enraptured. The merc stretches over Jackie’s lap to catch the back of Misty’s head, tangling her fingers in the short layers of hair, bringing the older woman in for another kiss. She uses this to gently pull and encourage Misty over closer, until they’re both pressed tight against one side of Jackie’s legs, making out just above his erection. They break apart, with V giving a soft bite to Misty’s lower lip before hooking her fingers into the bottom of Misty’s shirt pulling it off over her head. She can’t help but get another eyeful of Misty’s chest, before turning her attention back to Jackie, intent on showing why having two people play with you tends to make a person more sensitive. 
V slips her fingers into the top of Jackie’s boxer briefs, starting to pull them down, Misty helping her as Jackie raises his hips for them. The girls quickly getting the boxers off; V swallows hard at the sight of his dick. He’s big, something she always figured considering he’s nearly a giant towering over both Misty and V.  Its flushed red at the head, thick with prominent veins, and leaking precum on his lower stomach. Misty and V get their tongues on him, making Jackie curse aloud. V lapping the head of his cock to taste his precum, teasing her tongue piercing along the flushed sensitive skin. Misty, tracing the underside, licking along the veins and shaft of his cock. 
V pulls away for a moment as Misty licks up Jackie’s cock. The merc watches as Misty takes the length of Jackie’s dick into mouth, inch after inch pushing past her kiss-swollen lips. V takes to licking the places where Misty’s mouth can reach, the part of his cock she can’t force down her throat without risk of gagging, V’s tongue chases after Misty’s mouth as she pulls up, tasting Misty’s spit on his cock, until she’s pulling off his dick with a pop. Before V can follow suit, taking her turn to feel his dick in her throat, he stops them. Large thick fingers tangling in bleached hair. 
“Stop, fuck, fuck, gonna-fuck,” he groans out, nearly choking on his words. 
“Aww, feeling sensitive?” V teases, biting at his thigh. 
“Not helping, V.” 
“I don’t think she was trying to help, Jackie,” Misty jokes, sharing a sly smile with V as they watch Jackie try to keep from blowing his load right there. Jackie reaches down and squeezes Misty’s ass, making her yelp at the sudden attention. 
“Wanna feel you, carina,” he tells Misty, teasing her cunt through her shorts.  
V helps Misty pull off her shorts, leaving her completely naked. The young merc can see the slick sticking to the inside of Misty’s inner thighs and all she wants to do is lap it up. But Jackie is already manhandling Misty, helping her move to straddle his lap, with her back towards him and facing V; reverse cowgirl style.  Misty puts her hands back on Jackie’s chest, leaning her weight back on him as he holds her hips, his fingers squeezing the soft plush flesh. 
Slowly, Jackie pulls Misty down on his cock, making her moan out as he fills her. He bounces Misty on his cock, fucking up into her. V watches agape, not sure where she wants to focus, from where the two meet, his cock pumping into Misty’s tight cunt. Or to Misty as a whole, the woman put on full display for V to watch as her breasts bounce with every thrust and she cries out with every slap of flesh hitting flesh. 
She settles for doing much more than just watching, V dipping her head between their thighs and licking where Jackie and Misty connect. Its a sloppy mess, trying to keep up with Jackie’s pace as he pound into Misty. V laps and licks at his cock where she can, tasting Misty’s slick on him, kissing where Misty’s cunt takes in Jackie’s cock. She sucks and teases Misty’s clit, her own cunt clenching at the way the added pleasure makes Misty scream out. V’s mouth and tongue are everywhere they can be, desperate and sloppy in her rush to taste the couple, to add to their pleasure. 
Misty grabs the back of V’s hair when she cums, pinning the merc in one spot as she screams out her release. V’s left to drool and keep her tongue out as Misty’s cunt and Jackie’s cock rub against her. She tastes the rush of Misty’s slick first, gushing and twitching as her pussy is overwhelmed.  Then V tastes the bitter salt of Jackie’s cum, him cursing as he fills Misty and then keeps cumming, thick white spilling out and dripping back down his cock. The couple still, both panting heavily and Misty relaxing, letting V’s hair go as the young merc continues to lick up the mess. Misty collapses, practically boneless laying on Jackie’s chest. 
Jackie gets his hands under her thighs and starts to bring them back, Misty whimpering as he’s able to hold her legs up, nearly bringing her knees to her chest. The shift in position causes his cock to slip out of her, his cum now spilling freely from Misty’s cunt, a wet messy show for V. 
“Clean her up for me, V?” He asks it as casually as he’d ask V to lend her car. And V is just as happy to oblige. 
V buries her tongue inside of Misty, moaning softly when Misty squeals at the feeling. Its a mess of Jackie’s cum and Misty’s, mingling on V’s tongue as she licks it up like she’s starved for it. Misty is a sensitive mess, being eaten out so soon after being fucked to pieces, but V doesn’t hold back; rubbing a thumb over the woman’s swollen clit while she laps up every drop of Jackie’s cum. There’s a shake in Misty’s thighs, instinct telling her to clench them shut, to trap V between her legs, but Jackie keeps her spread wide; only able to whimper and whine as the mess is licked up as her twitching wet clit is teased alongside every stroke of V’s tongue. 
With each lick V tastes less and less of Jackie’s mess, cleaning up the creampie he’d left inside of Misty. And she doesn’t know what it is that sends Misty over the edge, one too many rubs of V’s thumb over her clit or particularly deep lick, V desperate to truly swallow down every drop of seed. But something does and Misty’s sent into a second orgasm, trembling and gushing against V’s tongue, screaming out as the pleasure consumes her.  The merc slows down gently,steadily  easing Misty through the aftershocks, until she’s done trembling.  
Jackie lets go of Misty’s legs, letting her body relax as she gently moves to lay against his side. His cock is still half hard and there’s an itch inside of V that hasn’t quite been scratched, still wet and twitching between her thighs, the crotch of her thin shorts sticky with slick. But she doesn’t want to push it, she thinks as she goes to lay down on his other side. But, he has different ideas it seems, an idea catching in his mind as V’s in the midst of moving, on her hands and knees about to drop down onto the mattress. Despite his size he moves fast, grabbing at V’s hips and making her freeze, on his knees behind her as he pulls her ass back against his cock. She whines at the friction, as he grinds against her, quickly getting his cock fully hard again. Misty laying against the pillows next to them, satiated and content to watch the V and Jackie chase another orgasm. 
And he yanks her shorts down as far as he can without changing the position, exposing her slick needy cunt. 
“Fuck,” the low hungry curse sends a chill along V’s spine, the head of his cock leaving wet across her ass, before he rubs it over her sex. 
There's a part of her that thinks they shouldn’t, that this is the step too far, a line that can’t be uncrossed; as if she hadn’t just had her face buried in Misty’s pussy. But, she needs this and by the tight hold Jackie has on her hips, he does too. A line that needs to be crossed even if it can’t be undone. An experience that has to be had, just to know what it’s like. 
Then he’s sinking into her, pulling her back onto his cock, filling her. V’s eyes roll back, a silent cry on her tongue as she’s stretched and stuffed. Too much, too much; but exactly what she needs. Despite his size, he fills her easily, her body too needy to resist the push of him into her. He doesn’t give her time to adjust, not that she needs or truly wants it. They’re both at their limit, just needing this, to know what it’s like to be connected this way; to feel his cock pounding into her, to feel her cunt clenching around him. 
She lets him set the pace, too overwhelmed to do anything, whimpering as he brutally fucks her; pulling her back against him as he thrusts forward. Both too far gone and desperate for this to be softer. The skin slapping together, sound ringing out through the apartment, a wet squelch everytime he sinks inside of her. Jackie uses her like a toy, like a human sized fleshlight to chase his own end with. And she knows she means more than that, in the moment it feels good to just be used, to be manhandled and fucked apart, to be a pillow princess taking his dick however he sees fit to give it. Each thrust sending her spiraling deeper and deeper into her pleasure, fucked stupid and mindless, unable to think of anything but how it feels to be fucked by him. 
And that pleasure overwhelms quicker than she expects, bubbling over and orgasm hitting her before she even truly realized she was close. Mind going completely blank and throat raw as she screams out, cumming on his cock, toes clenching. And he fucks her through it, draws it out until he’s cursing under his breath and spilling inside of her. His second load, a little lighter than the creampie he left Misty with, but still thick and too much for V’s cunt to hold; the mess leaking down her thighs as she comes down from her high. 
She whimpers when he pulls out, suddenly empty and more of his cum spilling from inside of her. Jackie collapses, in the middle of the bed, between Misty and V, sweaty and panting. V can’t help but laugh, throwing her shorts completely off, as Misty curls up close to his side. Jackie wraps an arm around Misty’s  hip. His other hand skims V’s back as she leans over them to take her hearing aids out, putting them on the side table, then she’s pulled down to lay against his chest. V nuzzles in, looking at Misty’s face across the expanse of Jackie’s chest, V being held just as tightly to his side. Misty’s hand is on his chest and V reaches up, intertwining their fingers, earning her a soft serene smile from the older woman. 
And there’s a lot that’ll need to be talked about. So many questions as to what this all means; what does V even want this to mean? A one time thing they don’t talk about, don’t deal with. A friendship ruiner, the start of something… new.  So many possibilities and each one brings with it a different sort of anxiety. But for now, she’s content to sleep curled up under the sheets with her friends. 
28 notes · View notes
purplecatghostposts · 4 years
Note
I'm very much interested in the story of Bubby and the ice cream flavours, if you feel up to writing it.
Today has been a day, let’s go
There are exactly twelve ice cream flavors in the ice cream parlor- which by all means is small- and yet Bubby is at his limit.
There’s too many choices and Bubby doesn’t know what he wants. The number of times he’s eaten ice cream can be counted on one hand so he’s not familiar with all the flavors, or what he likes.
Not to mention, there’s too many choices to make. It doesn’t just end with picking a flavor. There’s toppings, cup vs cone, size- so many things at once and Bubby is holding up the line.
Because of course there’s a line. Bubby can’t make his choices in peace- there’s workers waiting on him and other customers and every single one of their eyes is on him- he can feel it. The itch of everyone watching and waiting for him to make a choice. To fail. We’re all waiting on you, P-823. What’s your answer?
“Uh, Bubby? Are- are you okay?”
Tommy. Tommy’s here. Tommy’s looking at him with his ever-watching, glowing eyes. Tommy was trying to do something nice for him- he’s buying after all- and here Bubby is, having a crisis over ice cream flavors. He’s ruining this for him- disappointing Tommy.
Bubby’s getting soft. He’s only been out of Black Mesa for a few months and already, he’s lost his edge. All those years enduring what they threw at him, for nothing. Bubby used to keeping his cool even under the worst situations- he managed to negotiate with Gordon after he betrayed him while still stuck in his tube. He didn’t break then, nor at Xen, nor at Chuck E. Cheese. Why now? Why does Bubby feel his hand heat up and shake? Why does he have to hold back from screaming at a poor employee who’s done nothing but ask Bubby a few questions he can’t answer? Answer him, Prototype. We just want to know what your opinion is. It’s harmless, honest.
But it’s not harmless. It’s a trap, a trick, Bubby’s going to say the wrong answer and they’ll laugh and laugh and laugh at him as he gets dragged away to his tube. Bubby can kick and scream and plead all he wants but no one will help him- not even Tommy. He should’ve made the right choice, he should’ve known what the right choice was, he should’ve known but he doesn’t and Bubby will lose everything because of it-
No answer is worse than a wrong answer, Prototype 823. Obey your superior’s command and give us an answer.
“Sir, I don’t mean to rush you but there’s kinda a line forming. If you need extra time, you can let someone pass in front of you!”
Another choice. Bubby feels something inside of him snap. “I don’t know what the fuck I want- is that what you wanted to hear?” He shrieks, feeling the heat rise in within him and it’s too much, too much, too much oh god everyone in the parlor is going to see him breakdown-
“Bubby? Bubby, can you- can you hear me?”
Tommy’s voice is more even than he was expecting. He’s staying calm despite everything and Bubby isn’t sure when he sunk to the floor but there’s cool tiles against his skin. He still feels too hot but it’s a comfort. A tiny comfort he clings to when he answers.
“Fine- I’m fine- just-...” Bubby hisses back. His chest is being crushed by nothing but his own anxiety and he refuses to open his eyes. He doesn’t want to know what people think of him. “Let- let the next person in line go or whatever.” He forces out the words out, trying not to let his voice tremble. They’re coming for you, Prototype number 823. They know you’re not the perfect being.
“Don’t- don’t worry about everyone else, okay?” Tommy tells him slowly. His voice is the only thing Bubby can hear. Why is it so silent- are they all staring at him?
Bubby stifles a pitiful laugh. “No offense Coolatta but they’re the only thing I’m worried about.” Well, that’s a lie but Bubby isn’t going to tell Tommy that. “...Are they all looking at me?”
“That’s uh... They’re not really looking at anything?”
Bubby soaks his words in and a minute later, finally asks, “What?”
Tommy doesn’t say anything for longer than Bubby was expecting. Then, he speaks carefully. “Bubby... I- I think it might help you if you see for yourself. Open your eyes for just- for just a moment?”
Bubby doesn’t want to by any means. He can already feel their gazes on him, all knowing he’s far from perfect and mentally judging him. But Bubby opens his eyes anyways, then stops.
Everything else has stopped. Frozen in time and all in shades of gray- all except Bubby and Tommy. It’s true, nobody’s eyes are looking at him because nobody’s eyes are looking. They’re all blank, not seeing anything, and it’s as if-
As if...
“Did- did you freeze time?” Bubby snaps his head to Tommy, baffling at the sight of it all. Tommy rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, giving him all the answer he needs. “H- how?”
“Been practicing. That’s not- it’s not important. Bubby, are you okay?”
Bubby opens his mouth to lie. Tommy gives him a hard look and he shuts it without a second word. His heart thumps in his chest and his limbs are far too shaky for his liking. There isn’t a single person in the world who would believe him if he said he was fine.
“Why do you ask if you already know?” It comes out far snappier than Bubby was intending. Tommy doesn’t flinch or back down in the slightest.
“I- I want you to be honest with me.” Tommy sits down in front of him. He doesn’t shy away from Bubby’s anger and instead, confronts it. Which surprises him. “You’re not acting yourself.”
“And what do you know about how I act?”
“In case you forgot, I- I traveled through Black Mesa with you too. I’m in the Science Team, I see you every- every Sunday for brunch, I’ve been with you on camping trips and- and I was there at the bank heist. I might not know you as well as- as Dr. Coomer or Benrey or Gordon but- but I do know you. And... And I know what you look like when you’re scared.”
Bubby’s defensive wall starts to crumble and he hastily tries to rebuild it. To put something between him and Tommy so he doesn’t realize just how weak he is. “I’ve never been scared in my life.”
“I know you were afraid when you got put in- in your tube again- after Gordon got jumped.” Tommy counters. “I know you were afraid on Xen, and- and when Coomer got hurt on the heist. I know you get jumpy in- in hospitals or when movies have scenes about people almost getting experimented on. I’m not an idiot, Bubby. I- I keep tabs on my friends.”
Each point makes Bubby deflate a little more until he’s defeated. Bubby wasn’t expecting Tommy to be so observant but... Tommy always was the underdog type, wasn’t he? The one who you least suspect?
“Fuck.” Bubby laughs. A breathy laugh but a laugh nonetheless. “You... You’d think I’d remember that you made a dog once and wouldn’t underestimate you but... Here we are.”
“Here we are.” Tommy echoes. He gives Bubby a second to breathe before asking, “You wanna talk about it?”
“God no.” Bubby rubs his face, taking in and letting out long breaths. “No offense but you’re not who I want to talk to.”
“Feeling’s mutual, no- no hard feelings!” Tommy smiles. “But I can still help. What- what do you need?”
“How long can you keep time frozen?”
“Few hours.”
Bubby nods, satisfied. “I only need one at most. Give- give me time to breathe.”
Tommy’s understanding and Bubby can appreciate that. “Anything else? What set- set you off exactly?”
“...You can’t laugh.” Tommy nods firmly. Bubby still hesitates to answer. “Couldn’t decide what fuckin’ ice cream flavor I wanted.”
“Oh.” Tommy pauses at that. Bubby waits for some kind of ridiculing comment that never comes. “Well... I’ve tried- tried all of them so I could give you a lowdown?”
It’s not a bad idea by any means. Bubby gives him a nod and Tommy starts to describe them.
The world remains frozen until Bubby can breathe easy again. He’ll go home and talk with his fiancé later and further down the road, Gordon will jokingly ask him when he started to actually warm up to Tommy- to which Bubby will reply that it’s none of his business- but for now, Bubby will learn about ice cream flavors like it’s a class in school and the pressuring voices in his head are tuned out until he can’t hear them anymore.
Tommy and Bubby will never be as close as they are with other people, but Bubby would still die for the guy and now he knows for sure that Tommy would do the same.
I got a sudden rush to want to write this an hour or so ago so take... Whatever this is! I really wanted to explore the platonic relationship between Bubby and Tommy because they don’t really talk ever but they’re in a group that sees each other a lot. Anyways, hopefully this was somewhat good and thank you!!
122 notes · View notes
hazkiwislutt · 5 years
Text
chapter 6: a big step, family, and giving birth
{ finally after three months, chapter six is here HAHA. this... isn’t as good as i wanted it to be, but hopefully chapter seven makes up for it. have a lovely day/night! i love you! -athena }
“Wha’ would yeh say if I wanted yeh to come meet my mum an’ Gemma?”
Harry was brushing his teeth leisurely in Y/N’s bathroom while she laid spread-eagle on the bed, worn out from a particularly trying day in the studio. She was dozing off slightly, eyelids heavy with the weight of frustration and exhaustion, but had sat up so quickly upon hearing Harry ask her that yellow and black dots swam in her vision and her head felt light.
“What?” Y/N shakily got out of bed, stumbling toward the bathroom on unsteady legs. It had been a week since their fight after Niall’s fundraiser, and while things had gone back to normal and they were as happy as they’d been, nothing could have prepared Y/N for this.
Harry had just rinsed, giggling as he swiped at his mouth with a towel. He thought it was adorable, the way that Y/N was standing there in her old high school t-shirt and her knees wobbling with the anticipation of the question.
“My mum an’ Gemma. Would yeh like to meet them?” He turned to face her, leaning against the counter as he stroked a piece of hair from her face. She leaned into his touch, eyebrows furrowed and lips pouted.
“Do they want to meet me?” Harry barked a laugh, revelling in the way she was always so quick to respond to him in ways that always surprised him.
“F’course, all I do is talk about yeh, love. Why d’yeh look like yeh thinking so hard?”
Y/N bit her lip, humming thoughtfully before replying, “‘Cause we’re not exactly the most conventional pair, are we? Are you sure you want to bring someone home to meet your mother?”
“Oh, love, how could yeh be worried about my mum minding conventional when she’s got me as a son?”
Anne and Gemma had flew into LAX two days later, and Harry had decided he’d pick them up, bring them to his house, and that they would all come to Y/N’s for dinner.
Y/N didn’t know why she’d volunteered to have dinner at her house, she realized as she scrubbed her counters vigorously and distressed over what to make. She really wanted to meet Anne and Gemma because she knew how much they meant to Harry, but as she stared blankly at a recipe she pulled from a random cookbook, panic started to seep in as she realized she wasn’t even a mediocre cook.
She decided to call Andrew, since Hannah couldn’t do much, especially because Koda was still residing in her tummy (“I just want this fuckin’ kid out of me already!”), and because she thought Andrew could get out of the university laboratory every now and then.
“Andie,” she wheeled, holding the phone between her shoulder and her cheek, “Whatcha doing?”
A noncommittal grunt sounded from the other end and she heard a rustling of papers (or sheets, she couldn’t tell) before Andrew responded. “I woke up late and missed study group, so nothing.”
“Do you know how to cook...um...chicken parmigiana and baked ziti?”
“Yes. Do I get to take some home?”
“Get over here in less than fifteen and I’ll let you have the good hot chocolate in my pantry, too.”
“They’ll be here in about two hours. I don’t know why I volunteered to cook when we both know I cannot cook, but now you’re here, so this is good.”
When Andrew had walked in, Y/N had been frantically scrubbing her dining table as if her life depended on it, and he had taken her gently by the elbow and told her to take a breather.
“It’s simple, really, Y/N. Come sit on the counter and watch, you need to calm down.”
He had led her back into the kitchen and began pulling out the ingredients needed to make the chicken parmigiana first, situating himself at her island counter. He blew the annoying fringe of hair that kept falling into his eyes for the hundredth time, before Y/N used an elastic on her wrist to tie it up into a single small ponytail sticking straight upwards. He smiled warmly in thanks while Y/N hopped up onto the counter and swung her feet back and forth like a metronome.
“I’ll make a wild guess and say that you’re nervous to meet his family,” Andrew laughed, beginning to make the breading for the chicken.
“I just want them to like me,” Y/N pouted, leaning back on both of her hands and ceasing the swinging of her feet. “They mean so much to him and so of course I want them to like me but it’s more than that. I’m a lot younger than he is, and I don’t want her to get the wrong idea… And God, Andie, the way that we met probably isn’t the love story you want to tell your mom, is it? ‘Oh, Mum, the first time I laid eyes on her, she was drowning her heartbreak in a bottle of Belvedere and then made me carry her up the stairs to the bedroom. The second time we met in person, I shagged her because she released a really raunchy single about really good sex!’”
Andrew laughed at her poor imitation of Harry’s accent, but nodded as he continued preparing the food.
“I know it’s not exactly the most… ordinary way to meet someone,” he started off slowly, “But Y/N, both of you are celebrities. Your lives aren’t ordinary. I think his mom would understand that, and I’m sure she’s not going to judge you for being younger than him. If Harry’s her son, she’s bound to be compassionate and objective and open-minded. You’re psyching yourself out.”
“I know, but the last time I was this crazy about someone was when I met Daniel senior year, and it took me nearly three years to get over him. You can’t blame me for being scared!” Y/N scrunched up her nose in a pout, drumming her fingers insistently on the counter.
“You know, Harry isn’t Daniel. Don’t compare the two, otherwise things could go really bad… really fast,” Andrew chided, unwrapping the chicken breasts from the package.
“You’re right,” Y/N sighed, body slackening as she let out a whoosh of air, “I’m just being careful. You know better than anyone that I’m just tired of-”
“Tired of chasing love,” Andrew finished, rolling the chicken in breading, casting a sympathetic look toward her, “I know.”
“Someone knocked! Oh, God, Andie, someone just knocked, did you hear that? The door! What do I- Oof!”
Andrew winced as he watched Y/N scramble around the kitchen, only for her socks to lost traction on the kitchen floor and cause her to fall down on her butt. He stared up at the ceiling momentarily, before bending down to help her up.
“I’ll get the door. You pack me some food and the good hot chocolate, like you promised. Don’t protest, you’re a wreck.” He shook his head before proceeding down the hall to the door, pulling open to reveal Harry dressed in a nice pair of grey slacks with a large black sweater on top. Two women peered from around him, both with wide smiles and warm eyes. One was wearing a maroon sweater and black leggings with boots, and the other was clad in jeans, a cream sweater, and a pink pastel scarf.
“Andrew,” Harry smiled, greeting him with a handshake. Andrew stepped aside to let them all in so that they weren’t victims of the winter air.
“Hey, man, good to see you. Y/N had a bit of a kitchen catastrophe and I slept through study group, so I came by to help. This is your mom and sister, right?” Andrew grinned at the two women removing their shoes by the doorway.
“Anne, Harry’s mum,” the woman wearing the maroon sweater flashed a smile at Andrew before giving him a hug.
“Andrew,” he returned, surprised but delighted by her compassionate manner.
“I’m Gemma,” the other woman said, before shaking his hand, “It’s nice to meet you. Are you a friend of Y/N’s?”
“Yeah, we’ve been friends since middle school,” Andrew replied, “If you guys wanna come into the kitchen, Y/N is just getting together some last minute stuff.”
They all followed him down the hall and to the kitchen, where Y/N was at the island counter, her back facing toward the entrance as she muttered to herself, transferring some food into tupperware for Andrew to take home.
“Calm down, you’re okay, just calm down, everything is going to be okay. It’s all okay, it’s okay,” she repeated her little mantra over and over again, hands shaky as she sealed a container full of baked ziti.
“Y/N, Harry’s here!” Andrew called as they all walked into the kitchen. She stiffened, spinning around rapidly and using the counter to maintain her balance.
“Harry! You guys are here!” Y/N giggled nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“Were yeh expecting anyone else?” Harry smiled at her, going in for a tight hug before pulling back and turning to face Anne and Gemma.
“I’m Anne, s’lovely to finally meet you!” Y/N’s heart swelled as Anne came close to give her a warm embrace in addition to her cheerful greeting. Gemma came from behind her mother and also offered a small smile, introducing herself and hugging Y/N as well.
“Sorry to interrupt, but Y/N,” Andrew jumped in apologetically, “I’m gonna head out. I’m tutoring a couple of classmates in the morning, but it was nice to meet you both.” He shook hands with both Anne and Gemma, before clapping Harry on the back.
“Good to see yeh, again, mate.”
Y/N gave him a weak smile as she waved sullenly in return, watching as he exited the kitchen and listened for the front door to close.
“Well, let’s have some of that dinner Andrew made, then,” Harry boomed, wiggling his eyebrows at Y/N, and causing her to laugh. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad.
After everybody’s plates had been piled with food and glasses filled with assorted beverages, Y/N had the honor to watch Harry’s family dynamic unfold. Harry was seated next to her, and Gemma and Anne across.
“You have to call that friend of yours and give him my number. Do you think he could ship his cooking overseas, or is that just gross?” Gemma’s mouth was stuffed with the baked ziti, sauce dribbling over a bit as she gushed about Andrew’s cooking to Y/N across the table.
“God, what are you, three?” Harry teased, reaching across the table to hand her a napkin.
“Three years old, and graduated from college. I must be a genius or summat,” Gemma shot back, snatching the napkin and poking her tongue out at him.
“Stop that before I put you both in timeout,” Anne sighed, dabbing the corners of her mouth with her own napkin before taking a sip of her wine.
“You guys have a really cute relationship with one another,” Y/N squeaked out before she could stop herself.
Anne smiled at her warmly. “These two were the worst growing up. One time, Harry called Gemma a drug deal-”
“Mum, she knows the story, everyone knows the story,” Harry griped, brows furrowed and a pout adorning his face as he bit irritably into a piece of bread.
“You watch your tone before I actually do put you in timeout, Harry,” Anne reprimanded, before sneaking a teasing glance at Y/N.
“Is your family from around here, Y/N?” Gemma cut in, drawing attention away from Harry’s sullen expression.
“No, actually. I moved down here to LA as soon as I graduated high school because I was going to university. They live in North California, but I don’t see them as much ‘cause we don’t really get along the way you guys do.” Y/N smiled sheepishly. She’d told Harry about her complicated past with her parents briefly, but never in depth. He never pried, wanting her to do it on her own terms so that she didn’t divulge information she didn’t regret.
“I do have siblings, though. I have two brothers and two sisters, and I’m the oldest, so I was the first to leave. I miss them a lot, but we keep in touch over text and FaceTime occasionally. The second oldest is my brother, and he’s about to be a senior in high school so I’m glad our younger siblings have him to look up to.”
Anne and Gemma both smiled in tandem.
“Families can be tough, sometimes,” Gemma mused, popping more pasta into her mouth.
“Families aren’t always the ones related to you by blood, either,” Anne continued, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand, which she returned with a grateful smile.
“Wha’ they’re sayin’ is tha’ yeh can be a part of ours,” Harry concluded, poking Y/N in the ribs and laughing at the way she squealed.
“Sounds like a plan.”
After the table had been cleared, Y/N asked Harry to take Gemma and Anne into the living room so everyone could all resume conversation over tea. The rest of dinner had gone nicely, with them asking questions about her life before stardom and Harry, and her trading her answers for embarrassing stories about the dork she’d been blessed enough to call hers. They hadn’t mentioned anything about the age gap, or the way that Y/N and Harry had met, and Y/N decided to take that as acceptance of the circumstances, which she was thankful for. 
She was bustling around the kitchen, taking out mugs and warming up water on the stove. She really loved Anne and Gemma, and how they seemed to be so compassionate and interested in everything she had to say, just like Harry. They were a lovely trio, and she just hoped they liked her as much as Harry said they would. She let out a sigh as she leaned against the counter next to the stove, waiting for the water to boil.
“Alright, love?” Anne’s sweet voice came from behind her, causing her to spin around wildly and hold her heart.
“Oh, Anne! Hello! I spaced out a bit waiting for the water, sorry.”
She chuckled, before crossing the kitchen to stand near Y/N.
“You’re quite the jumpy one, but it’s endearing. I just wanted to check on you. Harry and Gemma got into a tiff over ketchup or cream cheese with fries.”
Y/N grimaced, silently swearing that if she ever caught Harry eating his fries with ketchup, she’d seriously consider making an anonymous fan account and expose him.
“Sometimes, he’ll wake up in the middle of my night and make the weirdest snacks, but they’re all healthy. He’s always trying to cram that nasty kale smoothie down my throat every morning, but I always manage to slip away.”
Anne shook her head, feigning disgust. “I don’t know who put him on this health fad, but I always make sure to fatten him up when he comes to visit. Although, he hasn’t come home to visit in about six months.”
Y/N hummed in response, before it hit her. Six months… About the same amount of time her and Harry had been seeing each other. She paled, stammering, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I always tell him to go visit but he never listens, and he insists on staying in the States. He’s really stubborn when he wants to be, and I just-”
Anne patted her shoulder, laughing, “You really are jumpy, aren’t you? It’s no one’s fault. He’s quite enamored with you, and we don’t mind, as long as he’s happy. A lifestyle like this makes it hard to find love, so we’re just glad he found you. I just ask that you be honest with him and take care of him as best you can. He’s got the biggest heart in the world, and in the past it’s pained me to watch him struggle with relationships. He always wonders why he isn’t enough, and he’ll ponder over what he could’ve done better. I think he’s just tired of… Maybe this sounds silly, but he’s tired of chasing love.”
Y/N gasped, turning to face Anne, who looked back at her, confused. “Did Harry tell you about that phrase?”
Anne seemed a bit perplexed still, but she shook her head slowly. No.
Y/N breathed in, giving Anne an apologetic look. “When I was a kid, before my relationship with my parents got really bad, my mom would always say that to me. She’d always tell me that she spent her entire life chasing love, and she never found it. I’ve always used that phrase.”
Anne nodded in understanding. “Harry never told me you used the phrase, but it’s the best way to describe all the pining and pondering he does every time a relationship fails.”
“I promise I’m going to do everything to make sure he doesn’t have to chase it anymore, because I’m tired of doing the same. If I’m honest, I’m just really scared to end up the same way my mom did.” Y/N reached over to grasp Anne’s hand in a moment of courage. Y/N was grateful they had this conversation, opening up to each other about how they just wanted the best for Harry.
Before Anne could reply, Harry burst into the kitchen. His eyes were alight with excitement, and his body was visibly vibrating as he shakily held out Y/N’s phone.
“Sorry t’interrupt bonding time, but Y/N, Hannah’s having a baby!”
Y/N didn’t remember much of what happened between her collapsing on the floor and getting into the car, but here she was, sandwiched between Anne and Gemma while Harry sped down the highway to get to the hospital.
She could almost laugh at the irony; in high school, she’d tease and mock Hannah, saying that she would be the one to pass out from the pain of having a child. Instead, Y/N was the one to pass out from the shock of her best friend having a child.
“Love, this is so exciting, innit? Christ, I think I migh- Hey! Asshole, stay in yeh lane!” Harry was giddy, driving as quickly (and safely) as he could without hurting them, and other people. Babies had always fascinated him, and here he was, about to be part of the birth of another one! Y/N rolled her eyes as she tried to stop her hands from shaking; at least someone was happy.
“Quite exciting,” she replied dryly, looking out the window.
Harry wore a large hoodie under the jacket he’d come to Y/N’s house in, and Y/N wore the baggiest pair of sweats she could find coupled with a large sweatshirt. She put her hair up in a bun and tucked it away under a beanie, hoping that would cover them for the most part. Andrew had said they’d given them a secluded waiting room, but they couldn’t be too careful.
“You look pale, Y/N… Are you okay?” Gemma looked at her sideways, lips frowning in concern.
“Yeah, obviously, I’m so happy,” Y/N decided, voice shaking a bit with nerves and excitement, “but it’s a little surreal, since Hannah has been my friend since middle school, and right now she’s about to have a little human come out of her body like it’s a slip-n-slide.” Gemma patted her knee in understanding, deciding she’d simply leave it at that and give the car some silence so everybody could calm down.
As Harry screeched into a parking spot, Y/N clambered to open the door so she could run into the hospital. She tried to do that, at least. As soon as her feet touched the pavement, she buckled again, knees shaking wildly, and Harry simply grabbed her arm and sprinted with Anne and Gemma into the hospital. They kept their heads low and followed the directions that Andrew had given them, but it wasn’t a problem because the bustle of the hospital and the exhaustion of families waiting and milling about was enough to cover them.
“Y/N!” A voice screeched, causing them all to look at a very disheveled Andrew. His hair was incredibly unruly, matching the state of his sweats and t-shirt, which were both stained with pasta sauce, and his glasses were askew. He had mismatched shoes: one Nike slide, and one flip-flop.
“Andie, you got here quick! Where is she?” Y/N was frantic, running to Andrew who was ticking like a time bomb.
“Right here, asswipes,” another voice cut in. Hannah wheeled into the waiting room, situated in a wheelchair and clad in a hospital gown. She looked exhausted, but her eyes were bright with fire.
“He’s not exactly ready to come out yet, but until then, I’ve just been wheeling around aimlessly. You got here faster than I thought you would… And you brought friends!”
“I’m Anne, Harry’s mum. Are you nervous?” Harry’s mom waltzed up to her and knelt down, placing her hands on Hannah’s stomach and smiling up at her brightly.
“I’ve heard a lot about you! Y/N was a wreck this morning before you guys came over.” Y/N shot her a look over Anne’s shoulder. “As for being nervous, I don’t think I am. yet,” Hannah replied.
“I’m Gemma, it’s nice to meet you.” Gemma extended her hand, and Hannah shook it firmly.
“Hi Gemma, I’m pregnant.” A beat of silence passed before she let out a boisterous laugh that made everybody blink and look at each other uncomfortably.
“Well, I lied to Anne, because I just made a dad joke, and if that doesn’t show you how nervous I am…” Hannah trailed off, shrugging her shoulders.
“Y/N collapsed when she heard the news,” Harry smirked, which caused Hannah to laugh, then wince, and clutch her stomach.
“Kyle is coming from work, but I doubt he’ll be here in time. He had the night shift, and he’s been taking so many days off the past month.”
“Well… whether or not Kyle gets here in time, we’ll all be here for you,” Y/N declared, getting down on her knees and pressing her hands against Hannah’s tummy. Her voice broke at the end of her sentence, and tears clouded her vision. How did they go from stupid middle school girls who couldn’t figure out how to put a tampon in, to adults that were staring life (quite literally) in the face?
“If you fucking cry, I’m going to make you change his first diaper,” Hannah warned gruffly, snapping her head to look away from Y/N’s eyes that were threatening to give way to waterworks.
“Your mom is terrifying. Stay in there a little longer.” Y/N whispered to her stomach, causing everybody to laugh.
All they could do was wait, at this point.
It had been two hours since they’d got to the hospital, and after being beat by Andrew in Speed five times and hearing him discuss the material for his paper that was due next week, Y/N was hoping Koda would just pop his head out already so they could all go home. Kyle had arrived, flustered, but once he saw that he hadn’t missed the birth of his first child, he settled down in a waiting room chair and promptly fell asleep.
“I always knew I wanted to be an engineer, you know, but sometimes the workload is insane. Sometimes, I look in the mirror and wonder if I’ve reached rock bottom yet, or I’ve still got a little bit more to go,” Andrew ranted, eyes wild as he explained his dilemma to a very intrigued Gemma. Y/N cringed inwardly. Harry’s hand was resting on her bouncing knee, and Anne was reading a magazine.
“Look, love, you’re in this one,” Anne exclaimed, squinting her eyes to read the print, “Which Harry Styles body part are you based on this quiz?” She blinked, glancing over to Harry and chuckling softly.
“Mum, s’not funny,” he whined, looking at the magazine, “Who the hell would want to be my elbow anyways? I guess m’flattered but… Everybody should shoot to be better than my elbow.”
“I GOT IT BITCHES!” Hannah boomed, wheeling back into the room from God knows where and startling everybody. Kyle jolted in his seat, snapping to attention as his fuzzy eyes fought to focus on the scene around him.
“Christ, for a woman that’s about to push a kid out, you’re really spritely,” Andrew snapped bitterly, staring disappointedly at the scattered card house that had fallen when Hannah had startled everybody.
“Well, it looks like this kid still isn’t coming out so I ordered Olive Garden, and the guy gave it to me for free since I’m pregnant and all. I was willing to share it, but since you’re being so bitter…”
“Look at my t-shirt,” Andrew gritted out, voice escalating, “IT’S COVERED IN PASTA SAUCE. I DON’T WANT ANY OF YOUR DAMN PASTA ANYWAY.”
“Someone’s grumpy,” Hannah noted, slurping away at her pasta and gnawing leisurely on a breadstick.
“Someone’s going to choke on spaghetti,” he replied tightly, gathering his cards to begin building again.
“There’s a lot of chaotic energy coming from the both of you, and if you don’t stop, I’m taking your hospital pudding,” Y/N threatened, pointing at Hannah, “And you’re going to change the first diaper,” she finished, pointing at Andrew. The entire time, Harry had buried his face into Y/N’s shoulder, stifling his laughs.
He enjoyed watching Y/N’s friends interact. It was always two of them going at it, and one of them trying to stop it, but he knew that in the end, they all loved each other. Anne and Gemma were sitting and listening with grins on their faces, watching the scene unfold.
“I’m gOinG tO taKE yOur pUdDinG,” Hannah mimicked, shovelling noodles into her mouth and aggressively chomping down to break the long strands. Y/N scowled, crossing her legs, and Harry couldn’t help but think she looked adorable when she was disgruntled.
“Ow, what the fuck?” Hannah spat out chunks of her noodles, one hand dropping her fork and immediately flying to clutch her stomach. Kyle flung himself across the room and onto her knees at her side, stumbling over his words as he tried to ask her what was wrong. She grimaced, looking down at her stomach before giving him a pointed look.
“I don’t know what’s wrong, Kyle,” Hannah faked confusion, exaggerating her facial features, “It’s not like we’ve been waiting for our first child to come out for at least an hour. I wonder what could be wrong when a sharp pain suddenly cuts through my entire body and makes me want to scream.”
Kyle blushed, putting his hand over hers, “You don’t have to be so snarky about it, babe.”
“Well, gee, I think you’d be just as pissy if you were feeling- Ow! Jesus Christ, what the hell?” Hannah’s face was contorted in genuine pain at this point, and Y/N felt her face pale. Oh, God, it was actually happening!
“I’m going to call someone!” Andrew stood up on wobbly legs and sprinted out of the waiting room, leaving everybody to scramble and make themselves as useful as they could during the situation. Everybody began speaking all at once.
“Just breathe, darling…”
“You’re going to be okay, you know.”
“I love babies! They’re so cute!”
“I knew having sex was a bad idea.”
“Oh, my God, I’m about two seconds from passing out, you’re going to push a living human out of-”
“Shut up,” Hannah grunted, breathing labored, gripping one handle of the wheelchair tightly in one fist and her stomach with her other hand, “It doesn’t hurt that bad yet, but it will in a second, so I just wanted to say that I’m thankful you’re all here and that whatever profanities I string together in that delivery room are not to be taken personally.”
A nurse had run into the waiting room with a winded Andrew trailing behind her.
“We’re going to take good care of you, ma’am.”
Hannah nodded curtly, wincing as another contraction spread through her body.
“You,” she griped, pointing at Kyle, “You put this thing in me. Get in the delivery room. And you,” she continued, pointing at Y/N, “Touch my pudding and die. Wheel me in, lady. I want this thing out of me as soon as possible. See you guys on the other side! ”
“You know, this is actually the most eventful thing that’s ever happened to me.” Y/N and Harry were in the waiting room, cuddled together and enjoying the quiet hum of the hospital. Anne and Gemma had gone to the cafeteria to go scout out some coffee for the four of them.
“Mm? Livin’ life as a popstar, an’ this is the most eventful tha’s ever happened?” Harry mused, gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. He had to admit today was a rollercoaster, but he was happy for Hannah and Kyle, and extremely ecstatic he was able to witness the events that had occurred.
“Definitely. Both of my chaotic best friends in a waiting room for multiple hours because one of them is about to give birth to a living, breathing child. It’s super surreal. Something doesn’t have to be extravagant to be eventful or memorable. It just has to be… I don’t know where I’m going with this, but you get my drift.”
Harry nodded, humming in agreement as silence overtook them once more.
“Punch me if yeh want, but jus’ promise me when we have our first kid, yeh won’t sling such artful language my way.”
Y/N jolted, sitting upright to look at Harry’s sleepy face. His eyes were bright with truth and mischief, but it was so comforting to know she wasn’t the only one who had fleeting thoughts of their future.
“You’ve got yourself a deal… If you promise to bring me Olive Garden as a pre-birth preparation meal.
39 notes · View notes
sidpah · 5 years
Text
Glory! 2
Ending up here again I wonder, why is there never any light? By light I don’t just mean brightness, I mean color, levity, Sun… Where are you, you beautiful hot-blooded creature? Why do you run from me? I won’t turn my back again, I promise… Tenderly eased into a state of approximated pleasure,I’m nearly carried away somewhere fantastic when that one-legged preacher starts his maniac call sending shivers through my blood-packed eardrum… “Oh, but don’t you see how they’re wasted! And they’ve tasted the sweet vagrant sin… The fragrance of entropy bleeds from their skin as it touches other warm bacteria-riddled skin! And how my bile riiiises soon as they set about it… Never forget: the most pious man’s the one who claims to have forgotten all about it... Animals needn’t be animals! Beasts, cast your burden off! And kneel down before you eat, before you sleep, before you leave this temple you walk in, the hair and the skin are all nails in your coffin, tell me, must we return there again and again to remind yourself how dreadful the whole cursed cycle truly is?”
Feeling cued, I stand, not sure whether I can walk, but goddamn it, it’s gotta be an easier death on those sand dunes the next block over… I’ll fall on the trunk of a cab, hook my fingers into its wheel wells and hang on to get gone… But as I stand and my head dips down, long gobs of half-clotted blood oozing from perforated skull, I get the woozies and trip those three deadly feet from curb to the middle of the street and I hear a screeching of tires on pavement and curl to protect my already shotgunned head and I’m gone to that sandy shore, that mythopoeic desert surrounded by a million others who tried to fail so completely that they were honored as true pioneers… Bloody swamps made by dead fellahin in deserts collecting their prizes for dying in the heat of gunpowder and fury. The hour struck zero and they all braced themselves for the bitter memorial homage to their Great Omnipotent Delusion…
Curtain rises, protagonist slips on stage, no merchant peddler wiser than tourist mark – snapshot lens glare a wide dusty American grin – Even he isn’t sure if he’s acting or being acted – Green fatigues eye each hunched extra with gated suspicion – A finger twitches, nearly setting off a thick wave of gunfire – Everyone breathes a heavy sigh – muscles relax – A vengeful hallelujah, a bright flare, a second burning Sun, an eruption of visceral smoke and red dust of the lurid town snows all around…
Or it’s red ambulance lights, a curse driven into my ribs. Jerry’s still yelling… But it’s not his voice anymore. It’s Kalday Suglaj, that god-healer in rags… It’s the cloying rhythmic cadence of the street-evangelist, but it’s a ragged pagan voice drilling them directly into that eighth hole in my head…
“Two-thousand years come and gone, and just how many more before the dawn’s shot down from its seat in the sky and laid sacrificially upon the ground feeding buzzards all tradition-bound?… Tradition bound us to the fabled lives of men who’ll never again walk the earth, as if they ever truly did, and weren’t just legends, deified by mouths hungry for heroes – A plague, a god, a fraud, just who are we kidding? Leave it up to the merry men, those denizens of disgrace! Every one of them’ll sell you a book for your soul, all the while impaling you on their devoutly righteous pole. They all take to survive, but greed makes survival so much more palatable. So every time, mark my words, my friends, ev-e-ry time, they’ll steal more flesh than the pound they tell both you and themselves they need as they take a dull butter knife to your love-handles!
Let me tell you ‘bout a man… a man I met recently who lived through the horrors. He is a hero, and yet no one would listen to a word that came out his mouth… I listened, I listened and I’m here to tell you all of his harrowing account… Lie yourself down on a street at night...”
I’m there, waiting as the red lights close in, the siren deafening… I push my good ear to the pavement to drown out the noise…
“Somewhere in the uncharted boondocks lit up by the full Moon and pickup headlights… Around him the gravel shatters and then shatters and then shatters into pieces of pieces of pieces while dark blood splatters steel-toes and asphalt meteors gouge his cheeks, scratch his eyeballs. Heavy links of chain yank tight round his neck bruised purple black, grated and fired by stone rockets and torn apart on streets on the outskirts of right fuckin’ here.”
I hear the loud squeals as ambulance doors open and a collapsible stretcher unfolds its wheels with a clang... There are hands on my body turning me right side up, but I refuse to respond.
“His wrists, impotent, roped together grinding spine since he was kidnapped and shackled like four hundred years refused to pass after one night stepping out of a bar with no words to drunken strangers who were looking for a scapegoat on which to vent their ancestor’s frustration…”
“Pack his head…”
“Support his neck… don’t lift him yet…”
I feel the rough hemp digging into bony wrists… I’m rolled onto the low stretcher, lifted, strapped, thick velcro gripping my arms and chest, legs and ankles, and I’m yelling at them, “Just get me to the next street! Get me to the dunes, man! Get me to the dunes!” But they don’t seem like they can hear me.
They keep shining a light into my eyes and that’s okay, I’m feeling warmer already…
Face of a young Tibetan boy looks down on me. He’s scratching “Liberate Tibet” on a mud wall… Before he can finish, he’s swarmed by drab military uniforms dragging him to a brutal tortured death… This is the land that Mercy forgot…
I feel the burn of my face peeling off grinding against the raging asphalt…
He dies nameless and noble…
Who am I to receive their misguided anger? Am I representative for any in-group? I’ve always been the meekest of outsiders…
Ghosts are gathering in the streets… pale generations clinging to each other’s waists… They all know what’s coming, but no one dares say it aloud… As the truck doors slam shut and Chinese guns flood the thin markets and alleyways… Cell doors shriek embracing robed prisoners, raped and cut…
Sirens wail from the scene but words, manic words, Jerry’s words, still bounce inside the confined little cell, wires and tubes across my face…
“…Reverently they severed that black devil man with the cane in his grip from the white woman at his hip – They did this to him so they did this to me! Tell me it didn’t happen! You know it did! Those dreary soldiers rushing, marching, folding their hands at their hearts… set on getting back the nothing they once were so quick to dismiss! Well they can dismiss us and while they’re at it, they can kiss us a fine ‘fuck you too’ as we pray to be freed from their blessed tyranny – The prince in his finery was shameless. Now we are stones laid before his merciless feet. We threw mud into their faces, on their uniforms, across their eyes and hair, but ended up wearing their mark on our bare chests... You know, I will change what I hate but it will not change me… And I may hate what I change but it will never change me… I will say it a-gain. Say it with me! I will change what I hate but it will not change me… And though I will hate what I change, it will never change me…”
 If I could talk, I’d love to tell him how wrong he is… that we must grow and be flexible, that hate versus hate never succeeds… I can’t even pretend he’d be able to listen… Words never matter to someone who’s caught in his own perpetual rut, so full of righteous fury he thinks he can alter a course of events he himself helped to instigate… Prejudicial anger has an inertia that’ll steamroll even the most skillful and best-intentioned humanitarians. And what use are these thoughts speeding at seventy miles an hour away from the very man I wanted to meet? And what would he know with the likes of a case, and like that, I remember the scaly tote… I yell at the medics, “Give it to me! It can’t fall in the wrong hands. Are my hands the wrong hands? Whose hands are yours?  Bring me back! I must speak with him!”
But they make like they don’t understand. Those sly bastards. They know the sides we’re on. I will get away, though, I will get away… I vow without a breath. And the strange thing is, in this careening ambulance taking me not to a hospital but to an underground blacksite prison, for a moment I really believe it’s possible…
4 notes · View notes
littlelovelymemes · 7 years
Text
✰ * º ❛ more popular text posts starters. ❜
‘  plot twist: you let someone in and they don’t fuck you over  ’ ‘  you would not believe bill nye... if ten million Science Guys  ’ ‘  the lack of cuddling i am experiencing right now is upsetting  ’ ‘  why was shrek’s soundtrack so incredible like who sat down and decided that a movie about an ogre would have a beautiful rufus wainwright ballad followed by a smash mouth/eddie murphy cover of i’m a believer and how can i thank them  ’ ‘  i justify my impulses by the fact i’m going to be dead one day and none of it truly matters in the grant scheme of things it’s that “treat yo self” nihilism  ’ ‘  all i do is listen to music really loudly while i walk in circles and daydream :/  ’ ‘  but you are an entire universe and i am a bigger cooler universe where everyone skateboards  ’ ‘  my insecurities have destroyed so many opportunities   ’ ‘  maybe you and i exist together on a different wavelength than the rest of the world. perhaps, we are on a separate frequency.  ’ ‘  will u still love me when im no longer young and ok looking  ’ ‘  ʸᵉᵃʰᶜᵃⁿ ᴵ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘʰʰʰʰʰʰ some fuckin physical affection  ’ ‘  stop thinking about everything so much, you’re breaking your own heart.  ’ ‘  concept: me traveling the world alone, figuring myself out, taking tons of cute aesthetic pictures, befriending kind strangers, drinking a cup of tea on a cute cafeteria, and trying out things for the first time.  ’ ‘  holy shit thank god vine is gone like can you imagine all the vines about fidget spinners  ’ ‘  me: reads the bad reviews of a book i didn’t like to seek validation  ’ ‘  if you think you’ve hit rock bottom, just remember that my bank once froze my accounts because I bought a healthy ready meal at my local supermarket and they classed it an “uncharacteristic purchase”  ’ ‘  i’m a dumbass and that’s just how it is  ’ ‘  y'all actually seek validation from people that don’t give a fuck about ur feelings??? LMAO bitch me too why are we like this  ’ ‘  special thanks to all the 10 year olds out there for making all those music lyric videos on youtube  ’ ‘  i am so gentle and kind hearted... and stupid  ’ ‘  there she goes again being over dramatic and by she i mean me  ’ ‘  just letting everyone who’s ever told me a secret know that its safe with me (and my mom)  ’ ‘  me n my eyebrows…………we been thru a lot  ’ ‘  i wanna jump off a building and not die just relieve stress by slamming onto the sidewalk and then get up and go get a slurpee or something  ’ ‘  all I want is vintage lingerie and good skin  ’ ‘  nsfw: nobody’s safe from wonderwall  ’ ‘  do you ever wish you could unmeet someone…. like,, we had fun times,, but it’s time for me to wipe my memory Sorry Bud  ’ ‘  date a boy who reads. or better yet date a 37 year old recent divorcee with a highly diversified stock portfolio who’s looking to feel young again and can treat you to what you deserve  ’ ‘  if you knew me in 7th grade i’m sorry  ’ ‘  *cha cha’s real smooth away from academic responsibilities*  ’ ‘  anyone else feel like they’re inherently worth less than everyone else  ’ ‘  be open with your love and loud with your laughter. life is so much brighter when lived genuinely.  ’ ‘  i really wish i could get a refund for all the love i’ve wasted on people like! repay my emotional labour your bill is in the mail  ’ ‘  i’m such a tease. i’ll tell you how bad I want to fuck you and then probably fall asleep.  ’ ‘  i’m crying my best  ’ ‘  i want to be known as someone who’s full of love and radiates light  ’ ‘  i’m in philosophy and were talking about how you can doubt everything’s existence except for your own consciousness and the guy that sits in front of me just turns around tears streaming down his face and goes “i am on so many drugs”  ’ ‘  how fucked up would it be if an astronaut was coming back to earth and everybody hid for a bit  ’ ‘  some kid just skateboarded down my street crying  ’ ‘  do you ever get in an “i don’t know” phase in your life. where you literally don’t have a solid answer to anything. you. just. don’t. know.  ’ ‘  which of the three pillars of modern music is your favourite, burnin’ up by the jonas brothers, beautiful soul by jesse mccartney or lucky by britney spears  ’ ‘  i guess at this point i should just consider dating myself  ’ ‘  there is no doubt in my mind i’m really that bitch  ’ ‘  after you hit 21, you start forgetting your age cause ain’t nothing else to look forward to, besides sweet death.  ’ ‘  why am i not currently in the italian countryside with a fruit plate wearing a light linen dress? unacceptable  ’ ‘  hands are weird because one of them can do absolutely everything without a problem and the other one can’t even hold a spoon  ’ ‘  remember to drink a fucking shit ton of water every miserable day of ur life  ’ ‘  is he………you know…….*makes football throwing motion*….straight?  ’ ‘  mATH, deATH -- wake up america  ’ ‘  does anyone else have a resting bitch face™, but kinda enjoys looking intimidating  ’ ‘  time flies when u take a 2hr depression nap in the middle of the day  ’ ‘  roses are red, i’m going to bed  ’ ‘  u know when ur hairs greasy and it makes u feel so so so bad about urself. and ur entire life. everything is awful bc my hair is greasy  ’ ‘  i’m just so glad the word “ugh” was invented  ’ ‘  just another day of loving with all my heart and believing in the universe  ’ ‘  you know when dogs sit outside with their face turned towards the sun and their eyes closed and they look so relaxed and when you pet them they’re warm? that’s how I want to feel always  ’ ‘  come into bed and listen to the rain with me  ’ ‘  people are so petty and then here i am, me, an angel,   ’ ‘  can someone please be proud of me like fuck i’m trying  ’ ‘  concept: a really nice Italian restaurant but it’s spelled “spagooter” on the menu and the waiters won’t take your order unless you pronounce it like that  ’ ‘  just found out neanderthal passed on the dna for depression and now we know why they stayed in caves and painted horses all fuckin day   ’ ‘  i want kids but i’m scared they’ll blame me if they’re ugly  ’ ‘  does anyone have any tips for not thinking about it  ’ ‘  “what’s a queen without her king?” well, historically, better  ’ ‘  i want something that doesn’t taste like alcohol but has a lot of alcohol in it  ’ ‘  my kink is getting some fuckin sleep  ’ ‘  i’m alive out of spite  ’ ‘  not to vent but: fuck  ’ ‘  i think i accidentally break my own heart a lot  ’ ‘  can’t wait to be balls deep in love  ’ ‘  why are there so many days?? i feel like we just had a whole day yesterday… they don’t stop  ’ ‘  i walked in on my 4 year old nephew sitting alone on his bed eating grapes in the dark and i didn’t even get a chance to say anything before he said “i don’t have answers”  ’ ‘  *adjusts my tinfoil hat* y’all are crazy  ’ ‘  do raccoons have people hands or do we have raccoon hands?  ’ ‘  mark your territory by crying on things  ’ ‘  any size titty is lit  ’ ‘  love lemon trees! i too am bitter but growing  ’ ‘  my only constant is the black hair tie around my wrist. no mans gonna be there for me like this hair tie has. no ones presence is gonna be as reassuring  ’ ‘  me???? tired???? sleepy??? yes constantly  ’ ‘  the box says “four servings” but my heart says one  ’ ‘  the lengths i would go to to both get attention and avoid it….astounding  ’ ‘  i hope everybody is doing their best even tho we’re all doomed  ’ ‘  young adult things: washing your colors with your whites because you don’t care you JUST don’t fucking care  ’ ‘  I just want to help out all the people with no money but i am people with no money  ’ ‘  bricks are just domesticated rocks  ’ ‘  being nice is so easy just do it  ’ ‘  lets start wearing cloaks and swords again. its time  ’ ‘  classes are like a high level dora the explorer episode. person up front asks a question, stares at you blankly for a few seconds, and then answers their own question.  ’ ‘  the average orgasm is 7 seconds. keeping a feral hog in your basement lasts for 5-16 years depending on your ability to care for it. the decision should be clear  ’ ‘  will i ever have my shit together  ’ ‘  i live in a time where a major selling point for food is that it uses “real” ingredients.  ’ ‘  “what the fuck” is an emotion now and its the only one i have  ’ ‘  it’s not a real party until you sneak away to the bathroom to question your existence as you stare at yourself in the mirror haha  ’ ‘  every hard day you make it through makes you one day closer to stranger things season 2  ’ ‘  assert your dominance by calling your friends by their student i.d. number  ’ ‘  i feel like each year has progressively gotten worse since the year of luigi ended  ’ ‘  um that’s u’re* not ur  ’ ‘  i wanna be a villain so I can just saunter everywhere. the heroes are always sprinting, always running. you ever seen darth vader run? hell no. and I ain’t about to either.  ’ ‘  i have nothing to say but will i shut up? No  ’ ‘  i cannot believe another week is like beginning we just finished one  ’
482 notes · View notes
thetaekooklibrary · 7 years
Note
Hey :) are there any new angst fics with happy endings? I've read all the ones that are in the tags! Thank you for your work! ♥
yep^^ some of these are still ongoing but they have ‘angst with happy ending’ tags so I’m assuming they’ll have happy endings once they are complete lol (here are previous angst with happy ending lists for anyone who wants to look)
(it’s not) Fine by roseycheol - You can’t fake what Jungkook did, the days spent bundled up together, the little notes left in Taehyung’s bag with stupid doodles of hearts and bunnies, the gentle kisses pressed to Taehyung’s forehead when Jungkook had to leave for class early and thought Taehyung was still asleep. Jungkook had looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world and touched him with such a firm yet delicate care, Taehyung knew that Jungkook had at least loved him in some amount. But he’s hurt and angry enough right now to say it, and he’s not sure whether it’s more painful to think that Jungkook fell out of love with him or was never in love with him at all. (Taehyung and Jungkook break apart and fall back together)
you act like summer but you talk like rain. by cloverseoks - Jeongguk does urbanex. During one of his little expeditions to an abandoned factory, he stumbles upon the camp of a homeless person, one he finds himself dying to meet.
Only Breathing - Aquiver by Sharleena - Like all things about Taehyung, being loved by him is loud, messy and familiar. Under lilac neon lights his hair is a shade lighter and his skin is gold, Jungkook’s hands tremble when he touches it and Taehyung keeps mixing weird sauces in his ramen. “Do you still quiver when I touch you?” “Always.”
when i’m ready (i will fly us out of here) by cherryjjk - summertime in seoul feels a lot like a thunderstorm, jeongguk thinks.
Veni, Vidi, Amavi by yourluckytae - (I came, I saw, I loved) Ever since that day, Taehyung has been looking for something, chasing a dream he seems to be missing. Something important that makes his heart whole. It’s a creeping sense of someone he can’t quite grasp, who’s always on the tip of his tongue, nails on a chalkboard screeching loudly in his ear to remember. But every time he tries, it hurts. But he chases the dreams, the feelings, whatever it is that he’s missing because he thinks it would hurt more to never find whatever’s gone. – Jeongguk stares at his palms absent-mindedly, body rocking with the movement of the train. His fingers trace over non existent words on his right palm. Something he hadn’t thought about in years. He has a feeling; something deep and nostalgic bubbling inside him tasting like chocolate muffins and caramel lattes and smelling of vanilla and strawberries. It stirs within him as his fingers trace each stroke over his palm. It stirs something melancholy, something sad. A feeling. (Kimi no Na Wa (Your Name) Au)
refrigerator humming, chewing gum and instant karma by locks - Taehyung sets the flowers down on the dining table, plucking the card off the little holder. “Dearest Taehyung, just wanted you to know that I’m thinking about you. I hope you’re thinking about me too. Love–” he pauses and squints before cocking an eyebrow and pursing his lips. “Hyung, why is the boss of your little boy band gang professing his love for me?” Yoongi drops the noodles on the floor with a loud curse as he burns his hand.Or, Taehyung’s been trying his hardest to avoid Yoongi’s criminal life for a long ass time, but a cute kid and his infuriating father keep pulling him deeper into the mix.
We Were Together (The Rest, I Forgot) by Kookie_andCream - Jungkook has always been able to see ghosts. When he meets Taehyung and falls in love, the last thing he would guess is that Taehyung is one. But somehow, in a world neither of them truly belong to, they walk the boundary between life and death together and make it work.
(some people might consider this a bittersweet ending but I think it’s a happy ending)
little do you know by aeterisks - Taehyung has been running away from Jeongguk for seven years. Now is the time to be brave. (Or, Taehyung is a producer who goes back to his hometown to find a new artist to give his song to. What he didn’t expect was for it to be Jeongguk, his first love.)
love, taehyung by ataezingkookie - take a deep breatheand start at the beginning
tell them how we first mettell them how we shared our dreamseven your weirdest ones
no, keep that as our secret
tell them that this isthat this has to beone of the happiest daysof your life.
OR the one where Taehyung and Jeongguk just keep missing each other
i’ll return to you (a promised handful of orange blossoms) by meanho - “Do you think he’s cosplaying an anime, or manhwa?” Jimin asked, voice in a trance. Taehyung understood his confusion because it wasn’t every day you see a person dressed as fine as the king of Joseon himself stumbling through a crowd and knocking over some Sailor Mercury’s wand. “Hmm, maybe he’s going for someone from Yona of The Dawn?” Jimin scoffed, “Yeah right, more like my 9th grade text book.” (or, the taekook Rooftop Prince AU!!)
I know it will soon be our last (but I can’t let you go) by wolfsbanez - Jeon Jungkook is a guy who is willing to break as many hearts as he can and Kim Taehyung’s heart just happens to be on his way.
the world don’t stop ( it’s on again ) by dormant_bender - Jungkook just wants to be normal, but of course that’s impossible when the world has labeled you as “Spider-Man.” Despite his newfound power and abilities, the one thing he is still unable to do is confess his feelings for his best friend Taehyung.
Everyone lives with a love (that has come to an end) by wolfsbanez - Kim Taehyung thought he was ready for the perfect relationship and Jeon Jungkook just happened to realize otherwise.
i want to breathe; i hate this night by thebestofme - Finding out his sweet childhood best friend was now one of Seoul’s most wanted villains was interesting, to say the least; but what’s more astonishing is that a freak like Jeongguk is now considered a hero.
Black Dahlia by AmandaPleese - Jeon Jeongguk is not afraid to die. So he thinks. It’s not until he is staring into the eyes of his soulmate, black spots beginning to splotch his vision, chest on fire, far too many dark petals trying to come up his esophagus at once, that he’s terrified. It’s too much. Tears sting his eyes, and he looks desperately at his soulmate who looks just as desperate right back, his world beginning to teeter. His throats closes up, and he can’t breathe. Jeongguk thinks he’s never been more scared in his life. Jeongguk doesn’t want to die.
Spectator by TheSadisticMunchkin - Taehyung was used to being the spectator of his students’ stories. He enjoyed the way the pages of their life filled with the adventures and plot lines that he was more than happy to be a witness of. He was always going to be their number one fan. That was up until the moment he became a character in a very messy story. 
everything means nothing (your kiss is a gateway drug) by nyxphrodites - Kissin’ leads toTouchin’ leads toLovin’ leads toFuckin’ leads toSomeone always seems to get hurt // Jeon Jungkook’s in love and it’s not Kim Taehyung’s fault.
saudade by hurricanedelta - saudade. noun. a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or has been loved and then lost; “the love that remains”
Why Me? by bruhnam299 - Powerful CEO, Sang Sunwoo, catches sight of the pretty, little florist that works at the corner of the street, and what he wants, he always gets.
The World is Dark (But Baby you Shine Bright) by pinkeow - Where Taehyung sees nothing but darkness, Jeongguk is his light
I Got Lost In You(r Eyes) by NastaeTae - The earth is surrounded by a universe that doesn’t care, and filled with people that do. When something is out of place, the universe will correct it, no matter what the cost.
I Bloomed For You… by Meanie_Beanie_nim - Jungkook just barely registered the warm soft skin of Taehyung’s palm, before his whole world changed. His skin prickled almost painfully, and it felt like somebody had sent a great wave of electricity crackling through him. The world went black for barely a second as a strange weight settled in his chest, and then the world came rushing back like a flood. He looked up with wide eyes at Taehyung - no, at his soulmate - and expected to be met with the same surprised eyes as his own, but Taehyung just looked at him with a carefree smile. “See you soon, Jungkookie,” he grinned teasingly before releasing Jungkook’s hand and turning around to leave. Jungkook stood there for several minutes, just staring at the spot where Taehyung had disappeared, with only one thought in his head.  Why had his soulmate just left him? 
got a question or request? check our tags page first to see if what you’re looking for is already there, or use the search bar on our blog! if you don’t have any luck with that, feel free to send us an ask when the inbox is open^^
140 notes · View notes
gospacegay · 7 years
Text
Dreams and Possibilities
So... This thing started out as a rusame short and grew like crazy! There is swearing. Get over it. There is mentions of suicide but It’s a very fluffy piece otherwise. Kinda smutty. Enjoy the alternate universe cuteness!
----------------------------------------------------------------
The argument during the world meeting had spiraled out of control so fast. Alfred had something, or possibly lack of things that were wrong. Then Russia was on his case, completely angry beyond reason. Totally surprised, the always armed American whipped out a pistol. That was when Ivan took out his pistol, whispering “Nothing but broken promises.” Shocking everyone, he shot himself through the mouth. He then fell to the ground, limp and dead.
Alfred ran over but he knew it was far too late. The angle of the bullet was just too good. It ripped out so much brain matter on the way out, the guy would be retarded as all hell when he inevitably recovered. The living nations were not invulnerable, after all. “He killed himself because of me.” the freckled blond grieved, Ivan's blood still staining the carpet. “I thought you'd be happy, boy.” England replied coldly, having the nerve to kick the corpse on the floor of the meeting room. Everyone gasped at his rude behavior.
“Why would I be happy a defining part of my culture is dead?” America hissed, training the gun on his terrible father figure. “It's just Russia, lad. No need to do anything regrettable...” the English man begged, backing up from the lifeless body. “He taught me how to skate, and ice fish, and sail a boat, and cook pies. He visited me all the time when I was a lonely colony. He was a better role model than you. He knew how to make love, not rut like a sick goat. He was mine.” Alfred spat, advancing with the gun safety off. “But you said, but he just...” The emerald eyed Brit sputtered, crumpling as he was shot between the eyes.
Despair and loss shredded his rational mind. His long time crush and former nemesis had killed himself. Alfred had been so sure they could be friends again. It was nothing like being lovers, but it was better than total deprivation. Then Ivan killed himself. This was all Alfred's fault. The arguments, the bloody cold war, the bombs, the deaths of children in gulags... it was all indirectly Alfred's fault. He always had to be so stubborn and proud. A world without Russia was meaningless, no one to rival Alfred's light with shadow. There was only one solution now.
Not waiting to be stopped, Alfred put the gun to his own temple. Pulling the trigger, everything faded painfully to black. Death was a funny thing. Before this point, dying had been like falling asleep painfully. This death was different. For one thing, it hurt way less on the way out. He had never seen anyone after the fact. Even recovering and waking up, there had been no one there. He was always alone forever.
Yet Alfred was wearing white, in a bright white room, with Tony seated beside him. The short red eyed alien just stared at him. It was hard to tell if he was disappointed due to lack of eyebrows or notable mouth. “Hey cool space buddy. I haven't seen you since the 90's.” Alfred greeted. “So you had to fucking kill yourself. I stop paying attention for two decades and you fuckin' kill yourself.” Tony cursed, clearly not impressed. “You, don't understand... he killed himself because of me, and... I thought... were...” Alfred attempted to explain with watery eyes, the event still overwhelming. “The Russian dumb shit killed himself too.” Tony summarized sourly between Alfred manly not-sobs. Giving the distraught nation a pat on the back. “Don't worry about it idiot. Your space buddy will fix this. Don't fuck it up.”
“What?” Alfred squeaked, confused and distressed.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Alfred sat up sharply in bed, heart racing. He instinctively reached for a reading lamp he couldn't recall owning. God, what a horrible dream. There was guns... and some kind of court room... and Russia died? The details were falling apart the more he recalled them. Everything felt super surreal right now.
He was Alfred Foster Jones. But that wasn't accurate either. His mind kept pronouncing Alfret, then a very unfamiliar jumble. It was just the fog from waking up, confusing him. It was time to get dressed quietly and make breakfast. He didn't want to wake people so soon. What people was he edging around again? Stretching his arms a little, an elbow bumped one of said people.
It was a big sleeping somebody all cuddled under warm morning blanket. The covered up somebody was taking up slightly over half the bed, sharing the blanket Alfred was trapped in. The freckled blond was terrified to look under. The physical urge to squeeze and tickle the half asleep bundle was stronger, and Alfred had always been impulsive. He gave the mystery person a big morning hug. Hearing a happy sigh, the nation was pulled back under all the blanket. Alfred nearly had a heart attack.
It was Ivan, sleep tousled in sleeping pants. He had been shot, he had been dead in the memory. He killed himself because of Alfred. Maybe it was a dream. It had to be, otherwise life was even more terrible than ever. With trembling hands, Alfred grabbed the Russian’s face and peppered it with kisses. That big nose, that brow, that sexy jawline, nothing was missed.
He was stopped mid neck. “Dearest, calm down. It's a Sunday.” Ivan grumbled in Russian, draping an arm over Alfred to pin him lazily. “I can't help it. I saw you kill yourself, and I don't know if it was a dream or real. Maybe it was a prophecy, it was so bad.” Alfred rambled, scared. Ivan freed the tanned blond's hair from it's scrunchy prison. Alfred eventually calmed, allowing his surprisingly long hair to be disentangled. He had never had it long at all, yet it had been long for over a century. The conflicting memories were both right.
“I suppose this nightmare had England in it.” Ivan soothed sleepily, now the bigger spoon and holding Alfred close. “It did, I shot him in the face. But it didn't make you alive again.” the younger nation admitted. “When I killed England for mistreating you, I promised you he was dead. I made absolutely sure of it sunshine. I even crushed the bones into dust and put the dust in a jar.” Ivan promised casually, clearly having made this oath before. Alfred remembered such a thing. It had been a first year anniversary gift along with a nice boat ride.
“It just felt real.” the younger nation whispered, still uncertain of reality. Ivan kissed that last shred of doubt away, snuggling slightly closer. “My god, how can you be so handsome and rugged at the same time?” Alfred flirted blatantly. Ivan blushed the slightest shade of pink, giving Alfred a squeeze. “I'll dress the kids if you make breakfast.” the ash blond volunteered, clearly not fond of cooking.
Alfred seemed both reviled and joyful over having to cook. An angrier short haired version of himself wanted to tell Ivan to shove a frying up his arse. His kinder souled self was faster, answering “Of course. I was thinking fluffy western omelets.” The additional statement of children, as in more that one was a bonus. He had always wanted a son, or a daughter. He would even be fine with anything in the middle.
He forgot about words when Ivan dragged his lazy ass out of bed. The Russian was fit, like underwear model fit. He could probably punch a hole through concrete or scare physics into letting him walk to the moon. Alfred drooled, raking into those sexy back muscles with his eyes. Then Ivan dumped an ugly university sweater over a carved body of god's finest marble. A low whine came from the freckled blonde. Ivan swiveled to look, just noticing. “What?” he asked, adjusting the drawstrings on his hooded sweater. “It's a Sunday. We should have crazy sex.” Alfred ordered more than asked.
God could Ivan blush when he had the tan of a snow man. “They're down the hall! They'll hear everything!” he whispered hoarsely. “I'll be good and quiet, We can do anything!” Alfred tempted, already tugging at the sweater impatiently. Ivan looked at the door, then Alfred. Like any other sex deprived overworked parent, the Russian jumped at the opportunity.
Alfred was face first getting ground into the mattress, a moaning mess. “This... was.... good idea.” Ivan panted, thrusting deep like a wild man. “More! Don't stop for anything.” Alfred ordered lowly, a bruising grip on his hips. The rhythmic fucking was amazing but Alfred had already come. It was all about Ivan now, for he always took a while to push over the edge. The ash blonde was easily the more sexually frustrated of the couple because he couldn't get out a quick orgasm in the shower.
Ivan's breath hitched as his pace turned erratic and rough. Finally he gasped, thrust deep inside, and came loudly. “Oh fuck, oh, your my angel.” he uttered, both men turning into a pile of blissful nudity. Not even a second later, there was knocking on the door. “Mama, Papa. Are you practicing fighting bears again?” a small boy asked. “No.” Alfred lied sheepishly, blushing as well. Still inside Alfred, Ivan stammered “I'll be right down. Go brush your teeth with your sister.” “Okay Papa.” the boy cheerfully obeyed, heard skipping away.
Ivan was quick to shower and leave, making Alfred suspicious. After languishing in the heat of the bed a few more minutes, he felt his used hole. There was a pearl of cum on his finger. That bastard never put his condom on. If Ivan made him pregnant again, he was getting shot. The last child had been ten long months without coffee, chocolate, or rum. Alfred damn near lost his mind. Between all the former British colonies giving him bad medical advice and Ivan treating him like glass, it was a miracle no one was murdered.
After spermicide type products strong enough to kill, Alfred washed, and cleaned some more. Not a single Russian swimmer was getting anywhere near his uterus this time. Hastily dressing, Alfred stomped downstairs while loading his pistol. Ivan was hiding behind his daughter, Alaska, at the kitchen table. “Annika, my little darling, lay flat so I can get a clear shot at your father's throat.” Alfred asked sweetly. Obeying, the platinum blonde batted sky blue eyes at him while climbing off the chair. It was normal for her not to talk much, despite having the appearance of an 11 year old.
“Don't kill Papa! He didn't build the pool yet!” Oregon protested with a mouth full of cereal. Ivan looked at his son with a disapproving frown. “You tried to make me pregnant again you sneaky rat!” Alfred hissed, the pistol only a foot away from Ivan's handsome face. “Just one more child, maybe it'll be Moscow!” Ivan cheered, having been at gunpoint over this before.
“I will not live without coffee or chocolate for nine months. I need them.” the freckled blonde threatened, slowly holstering his weapon. After a sigh, he kissed Ivan on the nose and began cooking. “New plan babies. Mama's gonna make you chocolate chip pancakes. Papa was bad, so he's getting one plain pancake with no toppings.” Alfred announced. The children were quick to turn on their father. He put on a pout, replying “Now I will starve!” Alaska was back in her chair, leaning in to whisper “I'll feed you some of mine, Papa. I love you more than Nikolai does.” The younger Oregon, appearing seven years old by human standards, snorted. “You want the pool too.” he muttered. Such loving children.
As breakfast progressed, Alfred sipped his coffee while watching his babies eat. “So, what are you all doing today?” he asked. “Papa said we're gonna play with Catalonia while he's working. Spain's house is huge, Mama. Catalonia has an air hockey table!” Oregon explained excitedly, making a mess of his breakfast. “Work on a Sunday?” Alfred asked with a pout.
Ivan shrugged, then rubbed his temples. “A very big problem has not been solved.” he said flatly, not keen on going himself. “I'll come. Maybe I can help, motherly wisdom and all.” the freckled blonde replied. With a tired smile, the paler nation nodded in silent agreement. The adult topic of politics was never discussed in front of their precious young states.
After breakfast clean up, Alfred combed and braided his hair into one large rope. Putting on his best Russomerican colored Hello Kitty sweater, the braid was made to match with a navy blue ribbon. He took the time to admire the silly shirt. A white eagle with red wing feathers was on Hello Kitty's clothes, while all 136 stars of the Russomerican flag were displayed in layered rings. The rings were centered around the cute kitten's silly dance. The sweater was a birthday gift from the Japanese Empire, a good friend of the couple and old wartime ally.
Once the children were picked up by Spain, Alfred and Ivan departed. The drive was not very long, since it was hosted not far from their Washington home. Since the Russomerican Republic was so huge and powerful, most nations had regular places to stay for the monthly meetings. They would never dare complain how far Washington was from their actual homes.
------------------------------------------------------------
Alfred was already not impressed as soon at the couple arrived at the meeting building. “What?” Ivan asked, knowing every look of his partner. “This is a dump.” the tanned nation muttered. “No, its cheap and efficient.” Ivan countered stubbornly. It was a dump, an old brick building with a lazy government sign at the front. Not a single flower bed or wall mural spiced the place up. They could have easily taken a wrong turn and ended up at a mortuary.
The inside was just as bad, with whitewash walls and scratched up wooden floors. The long meeting table was dimly lit, due to one light being burnt out. “How much time until people arrive, dear?” Alfred asked, running a finger over the table. It came back thick with dust. “Twenty minutes, maybe.” Ivan answered absently, pouring over papers in his briefcase.
Accepting the impossible challenge, Alfred tackled the dinghy meeting room. After changing the dead light bulb, The table had a soft white cloth cover. Snacks and potted flowers were stolen from another meeting in progress down the hall. Alfred longed to dust and mop the large space, but nations were already beginning to show up early. Resigned to living in dusty filth, the north American dropped next to his husband. Ivan was still brooding over a peace treaty proposal for Syria and Turkey, putting a grouchy expression on.
“If you frown too long, your face will get stuck.” Alfred teased, edging his chair closer. He gave a few kisses, nothing graphic. It was enough to make Ivan's cold mood melt to a dopey expression. An unfamiliar chuckle was heard as a stranger approached. Alfred tensed until he recognized the long wavy locks and flirtatious blue eyes. The nation was an old one, suspected to be Alfred's illegitimate father by most. They shared too many physical qualities for it to be a coincidence.
“France, long time!” Alfred greeted with traditional kisses on each cheek. Welcomes aside, the french man looked over Alfred's currently strong but trim figure. “You look great. I haven't seen you in years.” the man complimented, his pronunciations butchering the Russian language. “You still strangle my language like a boa, dear Francis. You always look so good in your suits as well.” Alfred replied in kind. Ivan glanced up at the overtly friendly chatter, jealously threatening “Alfred is mine.”
“Of course, sunshine, and you are mine.” Alfred finished the possessive sentiment with a smile. “Forever.” Ivan whispered lovingly, losing his dark edge again. France grinned and took several pictures with his phone. Several others were arriving, sitting at the table. France bid Alfred farewell with a kiss on the hand, then took his seat at the far end of the table. The second the last nation sat his bottom to a chair, the low chatter began.
“Thank you for coming to this... emergency meeting...” Ivan faltered despite his loud introduction, completely unheard. Alfred analyzed the seating arrangements quickly, years of raising tempestuous young honing his instincts. Ivan was about to start again, when he was hushed by kisses. Alfred then stood, and whistled so sharply it made the whole room twist to look at the source. Without a word, he forcibly picked up each guest and shuffled the entire table.
The result was a mildly confused group of nations that had nothing to say. Several nations murmured while snacking on the stolen plates of cookies. Admittedly, Alfred had been overly sheltered in his colony days, only picking up Russian and English. A happy brunet nation directly addressed Alfred. “We are wondering who you are.” the cute nation said in decent Russian, heavy Italian accent coloring each vowel.
Relieved to understand, the freckled blonde replied “I'm Russomerica, or part of it.” “I don't understand. He's supposed to be Russomerica.” another Slavic nation protested, gesturing to Ivan. Flashing the simple wedding band on his right hand, Alfred silently answered the question. “He's my beloved. We share the responsibility of monitoring all 136 states and territories.” Ivan added seriously.
“Think of little brother as Russ, and his wife as Merica.” Ukraine said, loving to dote on Ivan in public and make him squirm. Alfred personally didn't care if he was called a wife, for he did many wifely things. A few chuckled at the joke, and the meeting finally began. Due to the odd new seating arrangements, no one felt comfortable enough to talk over Ivan.
Still, others eyed the docile Alfred fearfully. A few were unlucky to know Alfred as the bloody Valkyrie of Russomerica, always alongside Ivan in battle. He was no stranger to war and death. Alfred had only lost a few battles since the Russomerican Republic had initially formed. That was almost three hundred years ago.
After watching Syria and Turkey bicker with Ivan over border reassignments, Alfred felt tense. Being so close to his husband, the freckled blonde could almost feel Ivan's internal anger as it built. “Accept these new terms or we will enforce them. Everyone is tired of your petty war.” Alfred ordered. Both warring nations looked at him dubiously with his Hello Kitty sweater and adorable blonde braid. Syria laughed mockingly, having to adjust her partial hijab. Turkey smirked, asking “Does your whore wife speak for you now?”
Instinctively, Alfred rose in anger. “Take that back.” he growled, glaring holes in the man. “I would take that back unless you want to die.” Ivan warned lightly. The fool laughed at Alfred, laughed. Upset, the freckled blonde slammed his face into the table hard. “I'm loyal and cute, and I look good in sweaters. You don't know anything about me!” Alfred roared, slamming Turkey's face two more times. Letting the nation go, Alfred retreated to his husband's side. A consoling arm was draped around his shoulders.
Syria paled, quickly signing the peace treaty and returning to her chair. Spitting out several broken teeth, the bloodied Turkey grudgingly added his own signature. “I'm not a whore.” Alfred whispered softly, upset. “Of course you aren't darling. You're perfect.” Ivan assured with a chaste kiss. With that little war out of the way, there was still a lot of time left. A few constructive dialogues managed to play out. Global relations seemed improved by the end, with several trades proposed between the forty nations attending.
The meeting ended, with a few stragglers the last to leave. Alfred could hear a conversation in rapid fire English down the hall as he cleaned up. “Wales, you can't. You were my ride home!” a young voice whined. “I don't care. I can barely afford to attend as it is.” an older male voice dismissed. “But, I need you!” the younger appealed, no avail. There was a slamming of doors, then stifled crying. Unable to ignore a child in distress, Alfred peeked into the hall. A boy, almost a teenager was slumped against the wall.
Clearing his throat, Alfred attempted conversation in English. Due to not using it everyday, it was quite rusty. “Hello child. Why you cry?” he asked kindly, Russian accent thick. “Oh, oh, Mr. Russomerica. I'll leave now. I didn't mean to be so upset.” the boy answered quickly, fiercely wiping tears with his ragged looking shirt. The child was too thin for Alfred's liking, arms like twigs. “Nyet, you come with me.” the taller nation insisted.
“Um, that's nice. But I still need to find a way to get home. I live really far away.” the child noted. Alfred ignored this, scooping the child off the ground. He was a light little thing, almost too light. “You see, I'm Sealand. I'm the best little country ever, but it's really hard.” the boy prattled on. “Child of England, da?” Alfred asked, seeing the same sandy blonde hair as his own abusive mother. Sealand shrugged, shivering and snuggling into Alfred's fluffy sweater. “I don't know. I've always been alone.”
“I alone too, once. Was very unhappy, until I meet Russia. Ivan, good man, best comrade. We will talk with him.” Alfred conversed awkwardly, wishing the child knew Russian. A minute later, Ivan returned to the meeting room. Coats in hand, he clearly wasn't expecting a rail thin child clinging to Alfred's leg as it ate cookies.
“Honey, no.” Ivan refused prematurely in Russian. “But, he's stranded here, and he's so cute and little. Can I please take him as a state?” Alfred begged. “He's a principality at best, off the shore of Wales. Wales. It's too far away.” Ivan reasoned. “He is so skinny and sad. You said our navy didn't have enough influence there.” Alfred argued back. Ivan rolled his eyes, retorting “He doesn't even speak Russian. He's just another mouth to feed.” “Hey. You keep trying to get me pregnant every chance you have. I though you would want another state.” Alfred bristled verbally, still mad about the early morning sex.
“I suppose he would be a suitable navy base. Ask him then.” Ivan sighed, giving up. “Sealand, you hungry and poor, da?” Alfred asked in clumsy English. “Maybe. What's it to you?” the boy stammered defensively. “I wish keeping you for my own. Little son.” Alfred said proudly, realizing after just how fucking creepy he was being. Ivan was right after all.
Sealand was being surprisingly positive about all this. “Like you're the mom and he's the dad?” he asked, pointing at Ivan across the room. Alfred nodded, explaining “Da, but many rules. Must learn Russian like other little ones.”
“You can't get bored of me and return me to the sea. And you can't beat me or tell me I'm worthless. And... you can't touch me... down there.” Sealand grew more quiet at he continued, shielding his groin fearfully from sight. Poor child of the sea, what trials and tribulation had he already faced? Likely many since he was English offspring. The late nation had a habit of abandoning his children in fields, or in this case, at sea. “Nyet, malchik. I love my children. Fight for them, da.” Alfred assured, offering another stolen cookie. After eating the treat ravenously, the boy smiled. “Okay. I'll be your kid. I've never had parents before.” he replied casually.
Alfred crowed with joy, twirling the child around. “I Mama, or Alfret Arturovich Braginski. He your Papa, or Ivan Zimavich Braginski.” he instructed, letting Sealand down. “I'm Peter Lawrence Kirkland.” the boy introduced. Alfred pinched the sandy blonde sharply, correcting him “Nyet. You are son, Peter Arturovich Braginski.” “Ow! Fine I'm Peter art pants Braginski.” he grumbled, rubbing his sore cheek. And so the family grew a little larger.
---------------------------------------------------------------
A few years passed by, and the strange white dream never returned. Peter quickly learned Russian, becoming one of the family. Meanwhile Sealand's actual infrastructure was repaired and improved. The former principality with a population of four was transformed. It was now a notable Russomerican navy base, with twenty people living there full time to maintain machinery. Oregon was pleased to have a big brother he could play games with. Even Ivan tentatively bonded with Peter, taking him fishing and taking time to help with homework. The boy would never be blood, but he was just as close.
After making Alfred heavily pregnant, Ivan managed to avoid getting beat to death in the hospital. Still, California was a cute little baby. She had her mother's deep tan and freckles. It took a year, but the baby aged enough to sleep normally. After a month of being horrible to everyone, Alaska realized she wouldn't be ignored forever. A few trips to the mall later, the girl's head seemed screwed on straight. Alfred's crazy life finally started calming down.
That was until he woke up one night, discovering himself propped up and thoroughly mounted. Ivan was thrusting in frenzied fashion, panting hard. Enjoying the motions, Alfred could feel his own sticky excitement spilled beneath him. Suddenly Ivan pushed deeply and came with a cry. Hot release filled Alfred's hungry insides, his ass forcefully tilted so none could escape. Riding out the bliss, something came to mind in the groggy nation's head. If the cum wasn't going out, it could only go his... no.
“You worthless bastard! Get out of me! I don't want to be pregnant again!” Alfred growled angrily, bucking and trying to roll. “Oh just... oh, a minute.” Ivan whimpered, his still hard cock giving a mighty throb inside that stuffed passage. Oh hell no, he was still pumping seed inside. It wasn't much, but even one little swimmer was enough to ruin the rest of the year. Resisting, Alfred rocked violently and clenched his anus for all it was worth. He only succeeded in fucking thick seed deeper into himself.
Crying hot tears, Alfred felt the cock swell slightly. “I thought you loved me. I thought you respected me. All you want to do is use me.” the mounted nation wept in frustration. Ivan paused, panting as he rode out the last shots of cum. Alfred could feel every bit of it, his insides swelled with the stuff.
“That's not true. I care for you more than anything else. I love you so much I need to touch you constantly. You fixed my heart, and you're raising four perfect states. You're eyes, your hair, your cheerful optimism. Everything about you is so perfect. It makes me want to make you so full of our children, make the world a better place. We could save the world, with our happy perfect children. We'd love everyone of them.” Ivan gasped between thrusts, clearly starting another round.
The love behind every word was palpable. Heart fluttering, Alfred asked timidly “Do you really mean that? You don't think I look hideous when I'm pregnant?” Ivan started roughly fucking the filled anus, making Alfred melt into a puddle. “I want you more pregnant. I want so many children we need a van.” he ground out, hips rutting rhythmically. Alfred's body rocked in sync, so completely in love. Ivan did love him, even as a whale bloated with unborn young. Ivan loved him in his grouchy day pajamas and wild hair. He even loved Alfred during his Japanese cartoon obsession phase. To give another child didn't seem like a high cost if this cosmic love was the prize.
Six. The agreed limit was six children including Peter. Until the limit was reached, Alfred gladly let himself be filled and stretched. After rigorous secret midnight sex, he agreed to butt plugs that would keep every seed inside. Eerily enough, seed from that first night vanished before the plug was removed. There was absolutely no doubt he would be pregnant. Even so, Ivan wanted to keep up the act until the womb had completely sealed. Taking vacation time, the couple visited Saint Petersburg. Visiting was a loose term, since they were locked together in lovemaking usually. That few days turned into a week. Alfred was so delirious from all the mind blowing sex, he didn't much care what the excuse was.
They only stopped so Alfred could clean out over a week for his doctor's visit. The poor children were probably tired of hearing them “practise fighting bears” at unusual hours as well. Alfred had a very special doctor, one that had helped him through all the other pregnancies and troubles. There was so few doctors trained to deal with nations in the world. Admittedly Alfred only shared the talented physician's existence with former British colonies. Lord knew there was enough of them. If the European union got hold of the man, Alfred would never get medical care again.
Sitting in the stark waiting room, Alfred felt confident everything would be fine. With Alaska, Alfred had discovered he was pregnant while drunk off his ass at a New Years party. The girl turned out alright, if quite nonverbal. Oregon's pregnancy had been a nightmare of nutritionists and nurses. He didn't eat a single drop of anything tasty for ten painful months. It basically ruined child rearing forever. California had been okay to birth, but Alfred dodged food specialists like they were assassins.
“Braginski?” A nurse called out from an open door. The couple stood, escorted to a small office. The doctor was an ageing human, followed by a woman in a lab coat. “Doctor Varkins. A pleasure as always.” Ivan greeted warmly, for the doctor was one of the few he trusted. He eyed the young protege acting as the old human's shadow. “Why is she here?” Alfred asked, holding himself and clenching his legs closed.
“Relax, this is my replacement in training. Her name's Tiffany, or doctor Kinley.” the older man introduced. “But I just got you. Annika just shed her last baby tooth. What if she needs braces?” Alfred protested. “It's been forty years. I have a family of my own, and I want to enjoy my golden years.” the doctor explained patiently. Alfred nodded uncomfortably, sorely reminded of human fragility. It had taken Alaska forty five years to physically age to preteens. Oregon grew slightly faster, taking fifteen years to reach his current state. California would likely grew at the same rate, representing a warm state.
“Tell me about your kids, they looked cute.” the younger doctor said kindly, her Russian carrying a distant Irish tinge. Alfred nervously glanced at Ivan while Doctor Varkins checked his vitals. With a nod, the pale ash blonde put a comforting hand on his husband's leg. “Well Annika, she's my little snow princess. Then there's Peter. I adopted him. He's my little sailor. Nikolai is second youngest. He wants to be a farmer when he grows up. California is just a babe, but I knew she'll do great things.” Alfred rambled, proud of his offspring.
“California... like the state?” the woman asked dubiously. “Well, for now. We can't seemed to agree on a first name. Ivan wants Katyusha, but I want Nadia. It's fine. We have five more months before she figures out things beyond pooping and sleeping.” Alfred explained casually. “I told you. Nations. States. All that.” the older doctor mentioned while listening to Alfred's insides with a stethoscope.
“Well your vitals are good, why visit so soon?” doctor Varkins asked curiously. Blushing, Alfred revealed the good news. “Well, we're trying again for another little one. I wanted to make sure things were alright. And Ivan needs a check up. He keeps coughing.”
Ivan looked shocked that he had been tricked into the doctor's office. When he tried to flee, Alfred's steel strength kept him trapped by the arm. The stubborn Russ was inhumanly strong, but his husband had always been able to match him. “I'm fine. I don't need help.” Ivan hissed stubbornly. His heart beat, blood pressure and other lesser things were measured and noted.
“Well there's your problem.” Dr. Varkins said confidently, pulling out a series of stock market charts. The dips in Ivan's health were still too closely linked to the price of oil. “You need to diversify your exports, so you stop getting these coughs. And you haven't been eating enough vegetables.” The ancient nation pouted as he was scolded like a child. Alfred grinned, with a pleased 'I told you so' attitude.
“Does this mean these folks are Russomerica?” the trainee asked. “He's the Russo, and I'm the Merica. But yes, we are Russomerica.” Alfred patiently explained, remembering when Dr, Varkins first freaked out over this. “Oh wow! I worked with Ireland, but I never though I'd meet my own nation.” the girl gushed. Alfred shied away from the attention, nervous around humans that could recognize and extort him. Playing nervously with a braid, Alfred's fidgeting was stilled by Ivan's arms. “He's shy, you can't be so direct with him.” Varkins corrected, approaching Alfred slowly. “Do you need anything else checked?” he asked courteously. Alfred shook his head, unnerved by how the younger doctor stared at him intently. They fled the office soon after.
-------------------------------------------------------
Officially two months pregnant, Alfred was feeling exhausted on the living room couch. Ivan and Alaska were enthralled in a show about big game hunters. Sealand and Oregon were on the floor, designing amphibious cars. Baby California was finally sleeping upstairs after wailing like a siren for an hour. Lazily dragging a couch quilt over his tired form, Alfred could afford to close his eyes for a second.
The dream was vivid and white. It was a white room with white tile and white benches. It was all so white and painfully familiar. Three gunshots, and one wrist cutting. Suddenly Alfred could recall being red haired, having killed himself in a bath tub by cutting his wrists. Blonde and shooting himself in the temple many times. Long haired and jumping to his death. It all felt frighteningly real. A short grey figure entered the room, using some sort of hologram device ripped right out of a movie.
Knowing and not knowing, Alfred had five confusing memories over lapping of this creature. It was safe, it was his space buddy, his confidant. Excited, he scooped the short figure up and swung it around the room. Despite never having met this creature, Alfred felt relieved to be reunited with it. It squabbled at him in a language he couldn't comprehend, until it was sharply changed to Russian.
“-ing Christ. What language is this time line in anyway?” the grey man cursed. “Who are you?” Alfred asked, refusing to let go. “You understand now?” the grey figure asked, resisting being cuddled. “Yes, little space buddy.” Alfred confirmed, the affection slipping out of him. “God fucking christ, you're going to ooze sugar if you keep this up. So, how's my favourite US of A?” the grey man asked, giving up on escaping Alfred's hugs and snuggles.
“I don't understand. Who is yuss of ah?” Alfred wondered, head cocked. Browsing alien symbols on his device, the short figure shook his head. “Wow, okay. Forget whatever I said. This line is damn confusing. What happened after 1776?” he asked bluntly. Absently petting the bald bulbous head of his friend, Alfred felt a name spring to mind.
“Well Tony, I was my own country of Americana. But it was really hard. England kept blockading my ports to starve me. Spain kept pressuring me. Ivan was courting me at the time, and became really mad. He fought off England so I could focus on Spain. After a while Ivan proposed to become a republic with me. Oh, it was so romantic. You should have seen the roses and the moonlight. I couldn't say no to that charmer. We've been married as the Russomerican Republic since 1889.” Alfred explained warmly.
“Was just checking. Normally I leave you idiots alone twenty years and you both end up killing yourselves. My boss wasn't happy about that.” Tony replied, still browsing his miniature projector. “Oh cute. Congrats on the twins. Fuck you have a lot of children. Breed like goddamn rabbits in this time line don't you?” he continued, browsing pictures of things that looked unfamiliar.
“Twins?” Alfred asked, confused. “Those things in you right now. Yeah. Fraternal twins.” Tony explained. “Why we would kill ourselves? I love Ivan too much to kill myself.” the freckled blonde protested, nothing cleared up at all. “Don't worry about it. I'm just happy that you're happy. Oh and by the way... The twins are Moscow and Washington, so Ivan can stop riding you like a used dirt bike.” Tony informed dryly.
“What?” the blonde sputtered, surprised.
----------------------------------------------
Alfred woke sharply, aware he was holding a napping Oregon and not a grey alien man. Ivan too had passed out on the opposing couch, the wildlife show still playing. Alaska and Sealand were long gone, but that was normal. The older states were becoming teenagers and highly independent. Looking fondly at his husband, five gruesome memories flashed by.
Ivan, throat cut and bleeding onto the cushions. More memories, his head with a variety of gun shot wounds. Another, his eyes lolled back in death, mouth foaming from poison overdose. Panic gripping Alfred's heart, the snoozing Oregon was nearly dropped on the floor. The anxious nation scampered over Ivan's still form. Checking for a pulse, he went giddy with relief when one was found. Clinging to the splayed man, Alfred kissed that pale skin, licked it, cried with joy to touch it. Ivan wasn't dead. Thank God Ivan wasn't dead. Sealand and Alaska strolled in on the odd scene, both eating three ice cream bars at the same time.
“Sex on the couch? Really?” Alaska snorted derisively. “Your papa isn't dead. I touched him. He's alive.” Alfred whispered loudly, still sobbing as he squeezed Ivan's rib cage. The older nation woke with a cough, surprised. “What?” he gasped, lacking air to make real volume. “Mama's losing her marbles.” Peter replied, in no rush to rescue his adoptive father. Finally taking a breath, Ivan forced himself to sit up. After Ivan rubbed Alfred's back and fed him the rest of the ice cream bars, the grieving nation calmed down.
“It's the hormones, Alik. Nothing bad happened to me, and nothing will.” Ivan promised, wiping a mess of melted ice cream off Alfred as he sniffled. “It felt real, and there was a white room. I died, you died. It was terrifying, Vanya.” the upset nation whimpered, clinging to his muscular husband. “It was just a dream.” the ash blonde soothed with a kiss.
Alaska and Sealand were gone again, probably off to play video games. Oregon was still sleeping like a rock on the couch. In the rare moment privacy, Alfred relaxed and sagged into the soft touches. “Marrying you was the best decision of my life. I can't even imagine the madness the world would suffer if we hadn't.” he murmured, lacing Ivan's collar bone with gentle kisses. Ivan returned the kisses with one of his own, reducing both of them to lovesick lumps on the furniture.
It was true. Alfred was so lucky fate hadn't dealt him a worse hand. He would continue to cherish his blessed life, and his happy family. No matter what war or ecological disaster befell him, Alfred would always be thankful for true love.
25 notes · View notes
sanchoyo · 4 years
Note
(Ask and you shall receive) 6 + 15, Kaede & Tsumugi
Bookshop AU + Criminal AU
BOYY HOWDY I AM LATE WITH THIS basically I tried to make a modern au where things are more..realistic (as much as dr can be?) but the premise isn’t too different :”) this is a good ship and tsumugi is the most underrated girl 
_____________________________________________
Kaede tapped her fingers on the table rhythmically; It was a song, one note against the wood, but the pace was solid and steady. Tsumugi loved the sound, and smiled to herself from the front desk. A notebook was laid out in front of her, copying notes from a music book into it. Kaede caught her eye and smiled; Tsumugi smiled back and looked away, eyes casted down.
The first week Kaede had come in, she’d informed the other girl they had a copy machine, and Kaede had told her writing the notes down by hand helped her memorize them. She was going to college nearby, with the goal of becoming a concert pianist. 
Tsumugi had seen a few local shows after Kaede had told her to come; And Tsumugi had fallen quickly: for her music, beautiful stories unraveling with swells and lows swooping through the air of an auditorium, and the gentle smile Kaede wore while her fingers danced. There was never a stumbling, never a mistake in those steady notes.
Tsumugi had steady hands too, so she could admire it; when she sewed, when she put books back in their homes, when she…
She caught Kaede’s eye and smiled again. Kaede abruptly put her books down, shoving the notebook into her bag and approached the front door.
“Tsumugi! Do you work a full shift today? I’m so stiff; we should go out and walk a while!”
Bold as always- it was so cute. Tsumugi tucked a stray strand hair behind her ear.
“Really, it’s not good to sit indoors all day!”
“I think I’ve mentioned, I work at a bar after I leave here, Akamatsu-san. I’m afraid I can’t.” She shrugged, and her Kaede’s entire body visibly slumped. So cute. “Mmm, maybe tomorrow?”
Kaede perked up. “Yeah, for sure! I don’t really drink a lot but maybe I could stop by the bar or something if you want?”
“Oh, I don’t know if that’s a great idea. It’s not really a bar for a girl like you.”
“A girl like me?! C’mon, I’ve been to a few parties in my time!” Kaede’s cheeks puffed out. “Is it safe for you? Is it like,” Kaede leaned in, as if sharing a secret, “really sketchy or something?”
She leaned towards Kaede, so close she could smell her flowery perfume. 
“I’m able to handle myself well enough, but thank you for your concern. I have pepper spray.” She could laugh; but it was truth enough that she could handle herself- no need to give the blonde unnecessary need to worry. 
“Okay, if you’re sure! But I should give you my number in case of emergencies, okay? Call me in a pinch! Or, y’know, if you just wanna chat!”
She opened her mouth in faux surprise, and accepted the scrap of paper; Kaede had signed it with a heart. 
“If you really want, tomorrow night...”
“Yeah! I really do wanna go out, what time?”
So they chatted, set a time and place for the next day, and Tsumugi’s hand clenched the scrap of paper tightly.
And she held it close when Kaede smiled and walked away, her perfume lingered.
“Oh dear,” She whispered to herself. This was bad! Kaede really was beautiful! And strong-willed enough...how beautiful would she look under glowing lights in full costume, how hard would her delicate hands hit if faced with adversaries?
She wanted her; more than she’d wanted anyone, in a long, long time. 
She turned open her own book, a manga murder mystery. She’d already guessed the killer from the first time she’d read it, the pretty, strawberry girl that the main character had already forgotten about after she faked her death; but for some reason, it held her attention anyway, even if she’d read it at least ten dozen times. 
Did the girl, Junko, feel remorse at all? Or did she feel glee, euphoria, and more love when she saw the impassioned fight her friends was giving? Tsumugi smiled, closing her favorite book and setting it on the counter.
She had a date to get ready for tomorrow night.
 _______________________________________________
“You’ve never read the Dangan Ronpa Murder series?”
“I dunno, it’s a little gory for me.” Kaede’s laugh was light and airy. “I know it’s just books, but I get so grossed out! I know they’re huge right now, but…”
“Mhm, they aren’t for everyone. But the main character is so noble! So willing to sacrifice everything for their friends. They remind me of you.”
“Of me?” Kaede looked up from her fries, mid-bite. “No way! I could never do that kind of stuff, I’d freak out!”
“I’ve seen you with your friends, Akamatsu-san. I think if it really came down to it, you’d try and help them however you could.”
Kaede looked like she was considering it carefully. “Yeah, when I think of them, I’d wanna try, but…” She grinned, changing the subject. “So, anyway, since you like the series, what do you think about who they’re casting for the live-actions?”
“It should’ve been animated,” Tsumugi sniffed, and she was a little bitter. “I’m not a fan of who they casted for Junko. She’s not- The wig looks too cheap! And- I have so many complaints!” She huffed, and Kaede laughed.
“You should send them your cosplay pictures to convince them to let you style her! Yours looks way better anyway,” Tsumugi felt her cheeks warm. 
“Thank you for the thought, but with all the retcons they’re doing...but oh! We should get you in a cosplay sometime! There’s a con soon!”
“That’d be fun! Even if I don’t really know the characters, it makes me really excited to think about wearing one of your costumes and hanging out all day!” Kaede propped her head on her hand, smiling. “You look so pretty when you get all excited about this, y’know?”
“Akamatsu-san-”
“You know, I think I’ve said you can call me Kaede.” Kaede slipped her hands over Tsumugi’s.
“I’m excited just being with you, Kaede.” She admitted softly. “And I’d be really happy if you want to meet me again next week?”
Kaede’s smile was like the sun. “It’s a date!”
____________________________________________________
Kaede looked even more beautiful than Tsumugi could have imagined, done up in purple and black lace, a masquerade mask over her eyes, hair pinned back.
“How does it look?”
“It still needs something.” Tsumugi circled her, checking over her own handiwork. “Maybe a hairpiece…” 
“Oh! How about a flower or something?”
She stared for a minute, considering it, trying to visualize, and Kaede ducked her head. 
“Honestly, with you staring so much I’m a little embarrassed. You don’t think it’s too much?”
“I could’ve gone more detailed with it! You wanted something simple, this is about as simple as I can do! I didn’t even put any anime references on the design!” She frowned. “I don’t know, maybe I could change your makeup a bit; something darker to show on camera more…”
“On camera? Will you be filming my performance?”
“Of course I will be! You’ll be the star of the show!” 
Kaede grinned, and gave her a quick peck on the lips. Tsumugi saw stars behind her eyes, and couldn’t stop glowing; Kaede really was perfect for this, the other girl’s attitude just made her even more sure; if she loved her so much, surely, everyone else would also-!
________________________________________________
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Kaede muttered to the boy beside her; he was going to the same college, studying to be a detective. Tsumugi had been careful to pick students with varying fields, to make it more interesting- she hadn’t expected the boy to cling to Kaede so hard, and it was irritating to watch. 
Kaede held her dress up off the floor, so careful not to get it dirty (and wasn’t that sweet? She was by far the best dressed here, and the cameras were trained on her as the center, as they should be.) Her eyes glanced at Tsumugi, full of worry. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know,” She lied. “Weren’t we just on the way to your concert? We’ll be late…”
“Are you guys idiots? You don’t know what this is?” A short boy with purple-tinted hair laughed. “C’mon, there’s like, what, fifteen people here, none of you follow the news?”
“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid, there’s no way this is that scary-ass game show shit! No, no fuckin’ way, I don’t have time for this!” A blonde girl snapped, but her expression gave away her true feelings of panic. 
“What game show?” Kaede asked.
“It’s on the dark web. A bunch of sickos kidnap students and make them kill each other. The police haven’t made any real discoveries about it, not a single lead about who runs it or where.” Shuichi muttered. “I’ve been looking into it myself, but…”
“That’s impossible! How do they not know anything?!” An astrophysics student, Kaito, blurted out. “Seriously, they gotta be close and just not telling the public, right?”
“That’s right!” Kaede agreed. Everyone was looking at her; just as Tsumugi thought, she was a natural leader, so positive… “They’ll be here soon, until then, we all have to live and look out for each other! Right?” She looked at Tsumugi. Then softly, she murmured. “Don’t worry, okay? I seriously won’t let anyone die!”
And that would be a problem; it wasn’t like Kaede could really prevent it, but if she intended to really try… She would be a beautiful star, and an inspiring martyr. 
“Thank you, Kaede.” she squeezed her hand. “I know you’ll do great.” She knew that, because she knew Kaede, and she loved her. Still, she wished she had the foresight to put a piano around here, because she’d miss that sweet melody.
0 notes