#this is insane. i am aware. i also remembered that i need to text my therapist back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

armpirate · 1 year

Text

UNDER HIS SKIN || JJK || Ch. 18

Pairings: tattoist!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, friends to lovers, tattoo au, virgin reader.

Summary: They say there are two versions for every story, and it's important to hear both of them. Everybody is hearing your side of the story, but it's just fair to get to know his.

After breaking up with his girlfriend, the only thing he wanted was to have fun with no attachment. You wanted to get rid of your virginity, and he wanted to tick you off his list. What he didn't expect was getting so emotionally attached to you that he would regret the deal.

Warnings: Oral sex (Female and male receiving), dirty talk.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

I park my motorbike near the entrance, placing the stand properly so I can make my way inside with no worries. Although, as soon as I cross the door, Brooke opens her eyes wide, fixing them on my hair.

—New look? —she teases me.

—Hmm —I nod—. Bad decisions you take at shit something in the night —I take a seat at one of the stools over the counter—. I'll probably tint it back to black soon.

—What can I get you? —she raises her eyebrow, while both of her hands rest on the surface and her body bends slightly.

I know perfectly what she's trying to do, leaning slightly so I can see her cleavage. Although my eyes never meet the flesh under her collarbone -actually, my eyes barely land on her as I ask her for a beer.

—Is Tae around? —I move around, trying to look for him myself.

—He left earlier today —she answers, as she serves my drink in front of me—. He said he was tired, and I think he also had a headache, so I'm by myself today. A little help would be fine —she was back at it again—. And since you seem to be spending so much time here lately, maybe you could join the team.

—Sure... I have nothing better to do —I mutter, holding the cold glass.

To be fair, I'm not sure why I've been coming here so often lately. Months ago, I didn't really mind it. I'd come only to pick Tae up, but I wouldn't even bother on getting inside. And I genuinely wonder if it was because I was up to no good back then, and not coming inside was a way to control myself and not ruin something Tae worked so hard for.

I think I ruined his plans enough back in Seoul, to repeat the same thing in New York...

I remember I tried to hold myself back like crazy on not trying to get inside Brooke's pants the first day I met her -and I'm aware of how hard it'd have been for Taehyung to find a waitress at her level if things had gone wrong between us, which would've been the case back then. Although, looking at her now, I can't understand why I was trying to hold back so badly. She really ain't anything special. She's hot and such, but yeah... Not a girl that could drive me insane with just a look. And definitely not someone I would ever plan to settle down with. Not because of anything especially, but whatever attraction I ever had for her only was always reduced to that type of attraction you have with someone random you meet in a bar.

Although flirting with her was fun, and exciting, it stopped being like that at some point, for whatever reason.

—Do you have any plans tonight? —Brooke asks.

—Yeah —I nod.

Sitting here, thinking Y/n could message me at any point to ask for support and help -in case she doesn't know how to do well on her date- is tonight's plan. I could be doing anything, yet here I am.

—Oh, I thought you were free —she giggles—. I was thinking that maybe we could hang out when I'm off...

Although I hear her, I'm too focused on my phone and the possible text I could get to be conscious enough to reply back. I shouldn't even help Y/n if she sends me a text. It's her date, and she should learn on her own with her mistakes. Why would I even need to help?

—Kook? —she calls my name.

—Hmm? —I finally look at her again— Sorry, I'm waiting for a text.

Brooke is almost going to speak, but she gets interrupted by a customer that seems to want to pay for her drink. My eyes go back to the drinks in front of me, filled with all the brands of alcohol that Tae likes. All of them top notch, and that's exactly why I always end up ordering a beer whenever I come.

I feel a vibration on the counter, although at first I think it could be a false alarm, like the other times I've checked my phone when it was actually somebody else's. Although this time, it's indeed my phone.

Cocktease: U awake?

I'm confused by her text. But it makes sense that she's asking that, Y/n didn't know I'd be out and about waiting for a text from her, while trying not to think of her flirting with a random guy she met on Tinder.

Me: Yeah

Me: What you up to

Cocktease: Tryin to get a cab

I frown at her reply. That date was shorter than what I expected. While I thought our conversation would evolve to a list of do's and don'ts, it ends up with me cutting it to get her location.

Me: Ill pick u up. Send location

It seems like the worst timing, too. Because right when Brooke is done with her customer, I get up from the stool and pay for my beer.

—I'll get going.

And I don't say anything else, as I make my way outside, trying to walk through the people that are reunited at the corner of the counter and the rest of people that are trying to sneak inside of the pub.

Y/n isn't too far from where I am, so I shouldn't take too long to get there and pick her up.

I park the motorbike somewhere near the place she sent me, and I look around trying to find her somewhere among all those people. Until I finally find her. She keeps checking her phone, something that makes me smile unconsciously.

She might be waiting for me.

Although I can feel my smile dropping when a guy taller than her stops near her. I guess it's the man she had that date with, because she smiles at him and replies back to what he says. I could wait. Maybe I should wait, and the next thing I'll be getting is a text from her to let me know she found a way to get back home.

Yeah... No.

I start walking to them, getting close enough to hear part of their conversation.

—Do you need a ride back home? —he suggests— I want to make up for what happened.

For what happened?

That makes me start walking faster, trying my hardest to calm myself down. I don't know what happened, so I have no reason to get angry at him.

—Don't worry —I see her shrugging

—It's not a bother for me, seriously —he insists, leaning a bit towards her.

—Shall we go? —I interrupt them, as I stop in front of them.

Y/n's big eyes land on me, surprised to see me -even if she was the one who sent me a text so I could pick her up.

—Yeah —she turns to him again—. Get back home safe.

—Can I text you again?

I hide a scoff when he drops those words, in the most desperate tone I've ever heard in my life.

—You better not —I answer for her, earning a frown from him.

Unconsciously, I wrap my fingers around her wrist, and pull from her body so we both can start walking to my motorbike. Was I too possessive of her, maybe?

—You don't even know what he did —she whispers, when we are far enough.

Of course she's going to play the devil's advocate and justify whatever crap he did back there.

—I don't need to know —I let go of her, stopping next to my back—. But if that shithead did something he needs to make up for, that's enough information.

And he should be thankful I'm not a violent person.

When I say that, I can see a glimpse of a tiny smile from her. But I don't annoy her with that, it's better to let her think I wasn't aware of how much she actually liked to hear that. Because I don't want to acknowledge how much I liked her reaction.

She hugs to my body when she gets on the bike, wrapping her arms around me tight as she lets me take the lead. At first I think of taking her home, and leaving everything there.

But what if that asshole tries to message her again? I know she wouldn't be "allowed" by the deal, but do we actually care about it that much?

It's not like we signed a professional contract, so she's still free to do whatever the fuck she wants.

That thought is even worse, because it only makes the possibility of her retaking a conversation with him bigger.

—I thought you were going to take me home —she mentions, confused, when I start in front of the garage door.

—My place was nearer —I lie—. You can stay the night —I turn my head slightly, looking at her over my shoulder—. Unless you want me to take you home.

And if that's what Y/n wants, I'll leave her there without a problem. Although it's a relief to see her shaking her head, as she smiles shyly while leaning over my shoulder.

—Where's the truck? —she questions, once she hops off the motorbike.

—It's Soo's actually —I answer, after I'm done putting everything into place—. Well, we share it.

More like I only use it when I have to do something for Mark or Soo.

—And what were you doing when I texted you?

Waiting for that text...

But I can't say that.

—The date made you so nosy all of sudden?

Y/n stops, genuinely thinking I was pissed by her question. So I try to find a way to show her I wasn't bothered at all by it, in a way that looks natural enough so it doesn't really seem like I'm desperately trying to comfort her. I hold her hand, not feeling a tight grip around it until a few seconds after -when she's finally aware.

I don't seem to be fully aware of what i'm doing myself until I see our reflection on the elevator's mirror. And that dumb smile on my face that her tight grip caused.

Both standing at each side of the metallic cubicle, we're preparing to an uncomfortable silence -that I can't seem to allow from happening, while my head keeps spinning around what her date told her before I interrupted them.

—What did he have to make up for?

—I thought you didn't want to know —she replied back, crossing her arms over her chest.

—I didn't want to make a scene —I support my back against the wall—. But depending on what he did, I won't hesitate to go back and break his nose.

—I handled it pretty well myself, thank you —that's not an answer, and she knows it—. Well... It was nothing. He just said he doesn't want to be teaching his significant other how to do things.

I shake my head, and breathe deeply as I try to think of what she's just told me. He doesn't want to teach her things? I bet it's not that that he doesn't want to, but he directly doesn't have a fucking idea of what to actually do right. And if he said that, it probably means she told him she's a virgin? And he still managed to shame her for that.

Dumb ass.

—Purple looks good on you —she points out.

I know she's trying to distract me from what she's just said. She's probably afraid I'll end up going back to the restaurant and teach him how my knuckles feel against his mouth. Either way, it seems to be working out, because I look at myself in the mirror, before I look back at her.

—You should keep it a little longer.

Should I?

I don't really say a word when he get to my place, I just head straight to my room to get some clothes for her and hand them to her.

When Y/n comes back, she looks so sweet and cute with her figure hidden under all those baggy clothes. I really can't understand how someone would plan to ruin a date, just by being an asshole to somebody.

—I can't believe he really thought he stood a chance with you, to the point of saying that to you —I say out of nowhere, breaking the silence after she sat next to me on the couch.

I've tried to hold it in, but I just can't.

—I fucking knew you would be on that still —Y/n sighs.

—How could I not? He acted as if he were the big thing, and I'm sure he doesn't even know where his own cock is.

—Why do you care so much, anyway? I'm not seeing him again, so why make all this fuss about it? —she looks at me confused.

—He just saw you as a piece of meat to fuck.

—Isn't that what Tinder is for? —she questions back.

She doesn't say anything else after that question, but I can feel some words are stuck in her throat. She just doesn't say them. Instead, she waits a bit before she speaks again with a more calm tone.

—I'm a virgin, not dumb —she chuckles—. I know what to expect from someone I barely talked to on Tinder, and it's not like I went on that date to find the love of my life. What he said pissed me off, but he apologized. Now, can we move on from this?

Letting out a heavy breath, I move my eyes away from her, just so I can be able to think straight and ease my mind. But I don't last too long without looking at her. And it's a fact that there's something that always pulls me to her. Y/n turns to me as well, as soon as she's aware of my gaze.

—What? —she finally asks.

I look at each detail on her face, lost in trying to memorize each centimeter on it before my eyes fall on her lips.

—I'm just looking at you —I answer, looking back up into her eyes.

—I know, but why?

—Just because —I shrug.

My eyes fall back to her lips when I notice the way she slides the tip of her tongue through them, before she slightly bites them.

—Just because? —she teases me, although the question leaves her mouth with a doubtful tone.

Her lips pout slightly with anticipation, as if she were letting her inner thoughts get a tiny bit of control over her body.

And it's the hint I take to lean over her, linking her lips to mine with no foreplay, no rubbing beforehand, no teasing. Although the kiss isn't enough, I want to feel her closer. With one hand on her cheek, and the other on her waist, I pull her closer to me, until I'm able to feel her rushing heartbeat against my chest.

I'm not able to think straight just by being able to taste her, sliding my tongue in between her lips. And my mind gets filled with thick clouds when her fingers dare to dig inside the collar of my t-shirt, while her fingertips send goosebumps all over my body.

I want to feel her everywhere. I want to get all of her right now.

—I want you so bad —I break the kiss.

Although that comment seems to only encourage her more, and I'm surprised when she takes the lead and stands up. I follow her, just to be caught up in another kiss that will make us stumble all over my place until we reach my room. And the only time we decide to break it, it's because we keep tearing each other's clothes apart.

Y/n grinds her hips against mine, the rough touch of our crotches makes my dick twitch inside my boxers. And I'm afraid I won't be able to go on a little further if she keeps doing that.

She's a fucking menace. Time to switch roles.

I break the kiss again, rubbing my lips on hers, only breathing the air she's exhaling, as my forehead rests on hers. My hands move up all over her body, sliding on her back and making her arch it in consequence. Y/n keeps trying to help me with everything, but it's time for her to enjoy it, while I have my way with her. So every time she tries to sit to help me with something, I push her softly back on the bed.

—Just relax and enjoy —I place a kiss on her collarbone—. I'll make you feel good.

It's the only thing I want right now.

My body can't seem to wait to feel her body squirm, and see her face tinted with pleasure. I lean over her breasts, taking no time to lick her hard nipple, feeling the rugosity of it fighting against the wetness of my tongue. Her breath turns heavy with every kiss, lick and suck I give her. Her hands hold her sheets hard when my lips close around the hard bud, and a gasp leaves her mouth when I set it free, just to go back to the other. Arousal builds over her so desperately that she tries to grind against me again, but I put her back in place by holding her hips against the mattress.

She looks so beautiful like this. Impatient and needy.

I keep going down her body, kissing each centimeter that's available for me, tracing the line of her panties with my lips when I finally get there. I keep going down, letting the smell of her arousal intoxicate me, and making my dick twitch again in my boxers.

Y/n looks nervous and uneasy when she's aware of what I'm about to do, but I still can see how bad she wants this. It's in the way she bites her lips, and how she unconsciously spreads her legs a bit wider to give me more room.

—Move your hips up for me —I whisper, when my fingers tangle on the elastic of her underwear.

She does it with no hesitation, lifting her hips up enough to help me get rid of the only piece of fabric that's covering her now. When I look back at her again, I have to keep myself together and not jump on her like an animal. Her messy hair spread all over my pillows, her hard nipples shining under the intimate lights of my lamps, her shaky breath and the way her thighs are almost closing must be the best image I've had of someone in a long time.

—Do you want to stop? —I ask her.

Her answer isn't formed with words, but with actions. Y/n spreads her thighs a bit wider, inviting me between them. Her glistening pussy is almost screaming at me to dig my lips in her slit, but I hold back. I taste her, all the way from her knee to her inner thigh, ignoring her core to do the same thing with her other leg.

—Eyes on me all the time —I warn her, stopping on her soft mons.

For some reason, she always has problems whenever she gets too lost in the moment to close her eyes. If I want her to enjoy this, I think the best would be to direct her not to close them now.

Both of my hands hold to her thighs, while my lips spread kisses around her pussy. When I finally fix my eyes on it, I can see it glistening right in front of me, slightly clenching around nothing. I feel like a wild animal right now.

—You're so wet for me —I groan.

I slid my tongue through her slit, from her entrance I make my way up with the tip, collecting all of her juices. The metallic taste makes me eager for more as soon as they hit my taste buds. It's the best action-reaction effect.

When I finally find her clit, I spread her lips with two of my fingers, making it easier to tease her needy bud, while moving my tongue up and down. She gasps in relief when she first feels my tongue, but the moment she moans... She couldn't have done anything worse.

I attempt to slide my finger inside her tight channel, but I move my head lower so my tongue invades her. Her walls welcome me, and I can feel every reaction, everything she might want to hide, directly on my tongue. I keep moving it, slowly in circles and up and down, at the same time I move my head so my nose can rub against her clit.

Her legs tense on my finger and around my head. And when I open my eyes, I can see that she's looking at each one of my moves -just like I told her to do. And she only makes that image better when one of her hands reaches to my hair, grabbing some of my locks to keep me tight against her.

—Please, make me cum —she begs in a moan.

Fuck, I need to give her everything.

Two fingers slide into her, at the same time my mouth moves back to her clit. I barely give her time to feel empty, nor to think about anything -in general. I move my fingers up and down, finding the padded spot that makes her squirm and tremble, while my mouth and tongue keep sucking and licking her clit.

Her hips grind against my mouth and her pussy clenches so tight around my fingers, that it seems like she wants to suck them in, before she finally explodes with a loud and long moan.

I slowly give her time to get it back together, before I take my fingers out carefully and crawl over her body again, just to end up lying next to her. Although when I try to kiss her lips, she moves up and kneels next to me.

—Don't look at me like that —she smiles at me—. It's my turn to make you feel good.

I'd be lying if I say I don't want this. I'd be a huge liar if I said this wasn't the image I cummed way too many times.

She's more inexperienced than what I had up in my imagination, which makes total sense. Her moves are clumsy and insecure, as she tries to think how to take my boxers off, or how she should start. Although she starts good, making my cock shrink in the air while she spreads kisses all over my thighs until she's way too close to my crotch.

And fuck, the way she looks at me right now, as her hand wraps around my shaft... She's a fucking menace. I don't care how inexperienced she is.

Her shy and nervous dry kisses, and kitty licks on my length, turn to sensual and slow circles on my already wet tip. And I almost lose it when the warmth of her mouth closes around it, and starts taking me in slowly.

I press my lips tight, feeling her mouth closing more around me and moving faster on my cock, bombing her head perfectly fine. But after three or four times, I feel uncomfortable, like something's scraping my skin down there.

If I don't stop her, this is going to hurt.

—Babe, you're gonna suck me raw —I move her hair away from her face, after I've placed a hand on her arm—. Try doing this.

Trying to teach her how to do it, I cover my teeth with my lips. And, after she nods, I guide her back to my cock. And doesn't it feel good... Every time she moves, she tries to take my cock a bit deeper, which ends up with my tip rubbing against her throat and her gagging on my cock. I'm not even able to look at her right now, it'd be too much.

She is indeed a menace.

—Don't be shy —she teases me, hands working on my cock, as soon as she's aware that I'm trying to hold back—. Let me hear you.

If she learns more things, she'll definitely be the death of me.

The combination of her mouth with her hands, the wet sounds she makes, and how she makes me feel... I feel that hot sensation building up inside, like a volcano that's close to exploding. I think if I don't stop her, I'd end up doing something she doesn't like.

—Babe, stop —I say, trying to push her away. —. Please...

But that doesn't stop her, it only encourages Y/n to go as hard and fast as she's able to. And I'm not able to control my body, nor to be aware of what I'm doing, until it's way too late. Until I feel some of my own load dripping from her mouth, and rolling down my still hard cock, while I see her throat moving after she's swallowed the rest.

—Come here —I say, closing my eyes, while I extend one of my arms to hug her—. This is the hardest I've ever cummed since I met you.

A light weight covers my forearm, and the warmth radiating from her body makes me feel at ease after everything that's happened tonight.

It makes me feel like I won't be able to sleep right if she isn't here.

—Let's sleep —I whisper, knowing perfectly fine what that means..

Her cheeks rise, as she smiles wide against my skin, and moves next to me so she can wrap an arm around my body and hug me, keeping me close to her body.

#fanfic #ff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkookxreader #jk #bts #wattpad #kookie #smut #jungkook smut #tattoistjk #tattooau #jungkook pov #Under His Skin #armpirate

21 notes · View notes

outsiders-apo · 5 months

Note

Hello again!

Sorry, I forgot that you wouldn't know what I meant by 'text'. I, and at least a few other voices here can see you like text on a screen. When you started being able to talk to us without Owen, it appeared like another screen option to click on. The text appears different for each person talking too. On your screen, you talking appears as plain black text, as does Owen on his. When we see you through the other's screen though, your text is red and his is orange. Rasbi appears purple on both screens. The text can be different sizes, bolded, or italicized depending on the tone of what you say.

The glitched text, however, is covered in strange symbols and glitches that trail off to the top and bottom, often obscuring other text. It is visibly very different from any other text.

Also, since it seems different for every voice, I thought I'd share? I do have a lot of other screens I can interact with. Hundreds of thousands, actually, and most of them I have never clicked. Some are text, like yours, and others are like videos. Some allow me to interact, and others I am merely a spectator. A lot of them are from entirely different worlds, or maybe universes, as well. Where the rules are different for life and sometimes even death is considered a temporary minor annoyance. On many occasions I have encountered multiple of the same person, too! In different worlds, and leading different lives, but unmistakably the same person with same name and face. Usually, they aren't aware of any other versions of themselves, but there are exceptions.

There are many voices out there like me too, I have encountered tens of thousands, even in just the 15-20 worlds I've seen.

Wow, this got a lot longer than I originally intended. Sorry about any potential information overload. -Purple Voice

Hey, Purple Voice! This looks like a lot, so I'm just gonna respond to it as best I can, yeah?

...Okay, first off: you see how we talk through text on a screen. That's... interesting. I guess I always assumed you could hear us? The colored text thing- that's really interesting. So I showed up as a separate application of sorts? Another page from Owen's? I guess that makes sense, as does the colored text thing. If I'm on Owen's screen, you guys would need a way to differentiate, as well as him on mine. So it sounds like the black text is kind of the default for whoever's talking, whoever's in charge? And Rasbi is purple. Interesting.

Woah, so if I STARTED YELLING REALLY LOUD, it would look different than if I were to whisper? Interesting. Really really interesting.

Oh, I remember the glitched text- that's what it looks like to you when Owen gets all static-y. Yeah. "Strange symbols"... huh. Is it anything like Vex Voice? Because I've noticed that Vex Voice sounds different from all the others too. Not static-y like the apparent "glitched text", but more... warbly, kind of. Like you're hearing them from underwater.

Oh! What it's like for you as a Voice! Yeah, I was always a little bit confused by that. You all seem the same to us, how can you all be so different? Some of you are ghosts, some of you are real people with real lives- it's a little bit crazy, the diversity among you. It sets my head reeling a little bit, I'll be honest.

"Other screens"... and you described talking to Owen and talking to me as "screens". Gotcha.

That's... that's a little bit crazy, actually. I'm guessing our screens are the text variety, from what you've said? That's actually insane. I can't imagine... hundreds of thousands? I have never... that's a little bit concerning, actually. That makes my head hurt, thinking about that.

Death as a minor annoyance? What?! That's... holy shit, man, that's certainly something else. Multiple of the same person? Are there... are there more than one of me? More than one Owen?

Wait. Holy shit.

Pastry Voice- I overheard them talking to Owen the other day, mentioning how one of his "brothers" had just gotten a "happy ending." Is that... is this what they meant by that? That's... this is a lot, but in a good way, a really good way! This is ridiculously helpful, Purple Voice, you have no idea. This... yeah, this really opened my eyes.

Wow.

That's... a little bit- a lot bit actually. That's ridiculously out of this world insane crazy.

And no worries about information overload- this was all super helpful. Thank you so much.

...

Wow.

#apokuna roleplay #outsiders smp roleplay #voices #main storyline #purple voice

7 notes · View notes

creativeafterdark · 8 months

Text

Chapter 11 and 12

I'm really dropping the ball on these huh? Things are just crazy right now.

Chapter 11:

I don't have much to say about chapter 11. It was cool seeing the names of a bunch of folks that have come up in my reading on the Tang Dynasty. And I loved the idea of Grand Marshal Zhu essentially telling Taizong to gtfo.

Chapter 12:

I have a little more to say about this chapter!

I'm very relieved that the situation with Li Quan and his wife was handled quickly and without issue. The two were, in the grand scheme, innocent folks and giving them more grief would have been a pain, very bad karma for the Emperor.

(Learning about Taizong, I really hope that his sister Yuying wasn't supposed to be Princess Pingyang, because I've grown to really like that lady and this would be a slap in the face at how powerful she is as she helped her father to START the Tang Dynasty. I say that because I'm still looking into it but I have not found a Yuying in the list of his known siblings. And Pingyang is the ONLY full sister he has, as far as I am aware)

I'm also glad Taizong keep his promises in the underworld and gave back to the Xiang couple. Giving him credit, smart idea making a temple for them and honoring them that way. This temple ends up bringing Xuanzang into the fray and Taizong is super happy to have someone related to his officials in the temple.

And then comes Guanyin. With the cassock and staff, she gives Xuanzang the sacred mission and he makes his preparations for the journey. (I find it HILARIOUS that he says it'll be 3 years, at most 7).

The talk between Taizong and Xuanzang at the very end was, oddly enough, my favorite bit. It was a simple wish of good luck but I felt like it was literally an older brother telling his younger brother to remember his home. Funny as I've heard their relationship is very much NOT like this in real life but I did learn (and please feel free to correct me if I am mistaken) that Xuanzang had an older brother in real life. Perhaps it was a callback to it?

With this chapter, we begin the journey! Which means I need to get my butt moving on finishing the designs of our Pilgrims (minus Wukong).

@journeythroughjourneytothewest

All that said, I kinda think I'm going to be slow with updates, as folks probably noticed. Work is giving me insane hours, and I'm still dealing with burn out. I have a few things to try to get me back into the groove, so we'll see how this goes. I very much want to read the full text. That's the best I got for now.

Gotta prepare to start reading Romance of the Three Kingdoms and some Cthulhu mythos stories.

Later, pilgrims.

#journey to the west #journeythroughjourneytothewest #jttw book club

16 notes · View notes

pixartwashere · 9 months

Text

Kazui open discussion!!

His MV’s so far has been making me going insane and I NEED to talk about it with someone!! So please join into the discussion and share you guys’ opinions!!

So before you jump into this, the content warnings are: mentions of suicide, death (duh) and murder cus its milgram.

I've seen the theories between Kazui either pushing her off the balcony or her comitting suicide. And I am torn. Cus something just feels off about those two and I'm trying to find a middle ground between the theories. And I wanna hear your guy's opinions too! Whether you have a middle ground as well, or something about the suicide/pushed off the balcony theories.

So let's start!

Evidence for suicide theory

So one of the evidence I've heard about is from the Undercover MV, with all prisoners "murdering" their victims. When looking through them, Mahiru's and Kazui's victims are the only ones that have one shoe off.

As we know, in japan, it's common to take off your shoes when comitting suicide. With Mahiru's boyfriend, we can associate the shoe with it and so apply it with Hinako.

At first, I was skeptical, because if we apply this logic, we would also see it on Fuuta's victim, considering she also ended her life due to online harrassement.

However, a friend of mine pointed out that unlike Mahiru and Kazui, Fuuta wasn't there to witness his victims death in real time and only have heard rumors through online sources. This can be confirmed through Fuuta's 2nd trial voice drama.

So we can STILL apply the shoe theory on Hinako!

Now comes the part that makes me skeptical: why?

What was her reason? What was it that Kazui said or do that made her decided to jump?

There's no way she would just jump because his gay or because of divorce would she? Hinako seems like a reasonable adult woman, surely there was more to it then just those two reasons.

And yes, I’m aware how much of a taboo it is to be a divorced woman in Japan, I still feel like that CAN’T possibly be the only reason right? But regardless, the motif is still on the table and I’m not going to brush it off due to how reputation and marital status is important in japan.

That’s for the suicide theory.

Evidence for being pushed off theory

Okay so when I first got into the fandom, I fully believed that Kazui pushed her because of intoxication. This was all before I knew about the voice dramas or Half MV, and just went off from what I saw in Cat MV. I will mention about this again later in this text.

So of course the pushed of theory mainly comes from this shot as we see her falling backwards.

And looks like she herself was pushed off rather than jumped. But (as far as I’m aware/remember) it’s the only evidence we have so far of her falling backwards. And because the MV shows the characters emotions and memories, many theorised that this was just Kazui seeing how drastic his consequence from lying was, especially as he paints himself as a monster (by eating the dove).

To why Kazui would push her, there are two theories I heard: intoxication (which what I thought) or self defense (instantly regretting telling the truth and pushed her by instinct).

I want to keep the theory of being pushed off as a possibility. So I’ll keep that on the table as well, along with the suicide due to marital status.

Other wise there isn’t any other evidence I can find??? So if you find more, please let me know in the comments!!!

My own silly theory and evidence

Okay I’ll admit it: my theory lowkey sounds like a stretch as well. But again!! I’m willing to be open to ANY possibilities!!

So one thing I’ve been thinking about is what if there was some physical assault/fight involved and threat of suicide?

Someone pointed out that Kazui mentions in his 2nd voice drama about ”going up against a woman like her was a first” when talking about Kotoko. We also know that he has experiences in judo, karate AND kendo (like my guy fights a lot jesus).

Meaning he has experience with fighting women. And also possibly won most of them due to this comment:

He’s 186cm/6’1 foot tall (jesus fuck), so yeah, a possibility of physical fight between him and Hinako could happen.

How do we know if she also has the skills to fight? Well she and Kazui were both cops no? Surely they are required to have training in fighting in order to know how to apprehend culprits.

And also! Someone pointed out this lyric to me:

Two-way deceit. Meaning that Kazui wasn’t the only one involved in lying about something. That maybe, possibly, Hinako was also in the wrong for something. What exactly? No idea sadly. Although this theory can be cancelled due to a certain someone which I will mention later.

Because of Tumblrs 10 pic limit, so here is part two!!

#milgram #milgram fandom #milgram kazui #kazui milgram #kazui mukuhara #kazui #milgram cat #milgram half #milgram theory #theory #theories #part 1

14 notes · View notes

starberry-cupcake · 1 year

Text

Forgive my random publishing rant but one thing that bothers me immensely, both as an editor and a reader, is that at some point people decided that illustrations “dumb down” books for adults.

If we could see illustrations and proper complementary image descriptions for them as potential tools to tell the story the best way possible, rather than something “childish”, we could improve a lot on stories that shoehorn in things in the narrative that don’t fit well, but are nice to know regardless.

There are so many novels that have, for example, super specific and detailed outfit descriptions or lengthy setting descriptions, which sometimes don’t fit with the flow of the story no matter how you edit them in, and don’t add anything crucial to the narrative, but authors want to include them because they’re cool and they’re in their right to do so.

In these instances, hiring an illustrator and editing a proper image description to go with it, not as part of the text but as a complement to the illustration for those who need it, can make the text flow better and communicate things to the readers with more ease.

These days, most books for “adults” (and “young adults”, but that categorization has lost all meaning to me at this point) which have illustrations are either collector’s editions, anniversary editions, books from specific authors who are known to work in fields with illustrators (authors who also do comics, for example), and the very rare fantasy release that makes the bold choice to have them.

And, from all of these, I can’t think of many that facilitate image descriptions as something as crucial as the illustration itself, and separate from the main text, something that could work in a display that treats illustrations as proper inserts.

I’m not talking about picture books (which work with illustrations to tell the story as much as the text and are a genre on their own), I mean illustrated books with chosen scenes or characters that get an illustrated page and an image description done in collaboration between the author, the editor and the illustrator, as an added element to the story and to fill in details that may not flow that well in the narrative.

Do I need to know, for the purpose of the story or the character development, that this girl is wearing a bow with tiny pink hearts on it and am I going to remember that detail after another 4 sentences of detailed outfit description? Probably not. Is it a cool thing to know that would be less forced as a detail in an illustration & image description? Absolutely.

Also, this would prompt more awareness for the use of image descriptions as a complement to the illustration in these instances.

At some point, in people’s perception, illustrations in books became a sort of “childish” thing, and looked down on because of it. It’s like you have to read the longest book possible, with the smallest font possible, with the less illustrations possible to be reading High Literature Worth Your Time. That’s nonsense.

The main thing, for me, is to give a story the best material home possible, for an author to tell it in the best way they can, and for others to enjoy in the best way they can, the most accessible way possible. You have tools at your disposal and possibilities to do that and to not choose one for some sort of stupid elitist prejudice is insane to me. If you don’t choose it because it’s not for your book, that’s fine, but to skip it because it’s not “mature” enough is bullshit.

#luly rambles #about publishing #but what else is new

11 notes · View notes

kirby-the-gorb · 1 year

Text

reply roundup!

we’re gonna try a new less structured/more casual format. (and then immediately forget about it for a month cuz a hundred other things needed my extremely limited energy...........)

I did read a lot of the tags and stuff and I still love getting to see them all! but I can only write and format so much these days :’(

on [the last roundup] @northeasternwind said: SJHDFKSDHFKJSDH THERE IT IS!!! YOU DID IT!!! YOU'RE FIVE STEPS AHEAD

lol I gotchu

on [wallpaper] @ceylonsilvergirl said: this is how I need to be living my life instead of whatever insanity is happening in reality. can things just be chill for 30 seconds!? I’m tryna sit down on this beanbag chair!!

right??? honestly it’s been A Fuckin Year dude, at least we can commiserate together lol

@softnoobgirl asked: April is atusim awareness/acceptance month and it can be really hard for atustic people because of all the atusim speaks and light it up blue stuff that basically tells us "ya we want you dead." As an atustic kirby fan it would make me super happy if you would draw kirby holding up a sigh with a blue puzzle peice crossed out and text that says "don't light it up blue, go red instead.

The world blue being in blue and the world red being in red. It would mean the world to me to see you support atustic people and not the organizations against us.

I think that would be a neat idea! (I’m actually autistic myself as well, so I’m like. totally with you on this. that does not guarantee I will remember come april, but I can at least tell you with confidence that it’s a good idea! it is totally okay to remind me of your idea with another ask in late march or april if you would like to.)

@autistic-sack-of-friends asked: the Kirby. it's gorby :> good job on the gorb!!!

thank you!!

@a-pansexual-she-them asked: Eats your art/pos

:0 omg thanks!

on [surprise nap] @ceylonsilvergirl said: If your body made you nap that means you needed a nap. Sorry to hear about the wonky sleep schedule tonight tho

lol I promise you falling asleep for an hour does not at all affect how likely I am to fall asleep again later. unfortunately.

@pourpresky asked: i’ve told you this before but i don’t know if you got my previous asks. i love this acc so much i love your drawings a lot. it brings me happiness it gives me serotonin i hope that you’re doing well everyday

aww thank you! I do remember you sending me a nice ask like this at least once before, although maybe my reply got lost in the clutter of the roundups >n< (not that this is any less cluttered...)

on [lights] @ceylonsilvergirl said: this is Christmas, but it’s also disco. and Kirby realizing he entered a skating rink. or a karaoke bar. yesterday someone asked me if Kirby was a girl or a boy, and I just had to be like “does it matter? will it change anything?’’ asker was a teenage boy so I don’t think he quite got it, but hopefully he’ll think about it

sometimes the most significant thing we can do is just plant an idea and give it time to grow. and kirby would be delighted to go to a rollerskating rink. do you think he’s really graceful or taking full advantage of his squishy marshmallow frame to pad his falls lol (also re: [wrapping paper opinions], I don’t really do a lot of birthday gifts or anything anyway but someday when we have space I want a few different rolls of solid color kraft paper so I can hand-design new paper every year because I am Craft Feral)

on [wrists] @northeasternwind said: I feel like you don't need this advice but please do the stretchies. be like Kirby's very stretchy body

my connective tissue is all fucked so my joints don’t really work the way they’re supposed to lol but as soon as I stopped working every waking hour my wrist stopped hurting overnight like, instantly, so *thumbs up* (thank you for your concern tho <3 )

on [struggle] @macro-microcosm said: good job making it through the year! happy you're still here. I hope things get better.

I was like, kinda surprised by how touched I was when I first saw this one. thanks for that.

I also think it’s so cute how every time I post a sleeping kirby so many people reblog it with some variation of either “me” or “god I wish that was me”

on [triumph] @chaosinanutshell said: YA KIRBO!!! Im almost done with all my assessments this week. then this thursday Im finally gonna have a break. IM ALMOST THERE!! Good job with all u did :DD

I took so long to write this that you already made it by now! I hope you get to do so many fun restorative things with your break! (I am reading lots of manga, which is restorative for me -u- )

on [love] @ceylonsilvergirl said: there are those times when you feel love so profoundly that it completely knocks you over. it’s really what’s keeping me going lately. I’m not getting paid, I’m working my ass off, but then someone says “I see you. I appreciate you. you’re doing a good job’’

honestly support is in all the little things. big gestures are great and all but they aren’t what keeps things going, it’s stuff like acknowledging the hard work you’ve done or making sure the hand soap is always full. Love Is Stored In The Small Everyday Kindness.

#reply roundup #text #title text #swearing #caps #northeasternwind #ceylonsilvergirl #asks answered #softnoobgirl #autistic-sack-of-friends #a-pansexual-she-them #pourpresky #macro-microcosm #chaosinanutshell #long post #readmore #ableism

5 notes · View notes

grimsneverendingfuneral · 4 months

Note

Grim, hi! I’ve missed you! I’ve been busy with some sucky real life stuff, but I promise I have not forgotten about you!

I shattered my left wrist which is already annoying as is, but it happened HOURS after I got my cast off on my right arm which was broken. It’s just so annoying ugh. Like, I’m fine of course, just so annoying. Seriously it’s only the kind of luck I could have.

Anyways! You know what time it is, obviously. What was your favourite song this week? Do you wear glasses? And a Rosekiller relation question for ya, what are some of their quirks/bad habits? (e.g.: biting nails, picking at skin, etc. etc. you get the idea) 🎤

OH MY GOOODDDDDDDD MIC ANON !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

fuck i was so happy to get this message in my inbox but as i read it my face kinda fell. fuckin hell its been a rough couple of weeks for you. what the hell man. oooohhh i wish i could draw doodles on your cast and tuck you in and give your forehead a kiss. that is an substantial amount of bad luck, for sure, but the way you're going about it says a lot about who you are as a person, which is probably super brave and resilient. i remember when i broke my foot how absolutely simultaneously depressed and delirious i was cause its just so absurd in a way. you find ways to live your life differently, its a whole experience, yknow, living with a cast on or not being able to use one of your limbs. im glad youre okay though but be gentle with yourself cause it does affect our mental health more than we think. give yourself that time to just heal and try not to get too frustrated with yourself. you need time and rest

i hope you're well surrounded or at least i hope you have some support, and im here if you wanna chat. also, im genuinely so shocked and flattered and a little emotional that you would still send me an ask when you just shattered your wrist???? wow. fuck im giving you smooches on the arm. im making you soup im getting things from high places you cant reach im fussing over you like a motherly figure

also im kinda curious (you dont have to answer) but how did this happen?

ok questions. yes. my favourite song this week was this black metal song (im in my winterly black metal phase. happens every january or so) called I Am The Black Wizards by Emperor. its just.... crazy orchestral folkloric screeching overlapping rumbling drums and insane distorted guitars. i just listened to it on repeat while writing and it really inspired the madness in this chapter i just finished. also love listening to it in public with a straight face

i do not wear glasses, no! i have a pair of blue light glasses though that i wear when i write cause im on the computer a lot and i look super sexy in them. i was blessed with very good vision for some reason

and rosekiller quirks!! huh. theres probably a lot. for sure barty vocally stims a lot. i picture him as the guy at the back of the class who makes like annoying ass popping sounds with his mouth or will screech for no reason. he's gotta be humming or inventing new noises at all times. and the thing is about that is that his friends usually like catch onto those noises and will begin to make them as well and it becomes this thing like. his noises make sense and they feel good to make once you start mimicking them. i think he also has an excellent long term memory to the point its scary but his short term memory is fucking ass. like you HAVE to text him to remind him of things or he'll forget. he puts a mug somewhere? forgets it for weeks. has no object permanence so when hes been on his phone for too long he just hides it in a cupboard and completely forgets about it. he's also messy but not dirty. like theres socks everywhere but he scrubs his bathroom for three hours with Pinesol. i could go on and on and on

evan's bad habits are more mental than physical but for some reason i feel like his waking self is completely different from his sleeping self. waking self is very aware of his body language, his posture, the way his face moves, but sleeping him is kicking at your calves, thrashing around, sheets twisted around his legs, his hand finds itself directly in your face and he definitely sleeps in that position where youre on your belly and your leg is up yknow. i think evan is also prone to sighing a lot. he sighs so much and he doesnt notice and its like are you fucking okay?? can you stop sighing like youre a poor victorian woman withering away from broken heart? lastly i think evan does pick at his lip skin but only in private. he doesnt really do stuff in front of others like that. but he will pick it until it feels smooth and its bleeding in three places but at least it feels smooth (i do this)

thank you so much for keeping me updated on your life mic anon i feel very honoured. hope you have a good recovery

#mic anon #ily #im so glad youre back

1 note · View note

sexwithamanda · 1 year

Text

Always, All the time. This is it.

Episode #IDK

Hello reporting from you live in Athens, Greece.

I made it here, with the insane amount of luck I’ve had. I always have problems to think about, one of them I put my focus on is my relationship.

I think that my needs are not being met consistently. I feel myself so upset with how I tell my person exactly what I need and he considers me being rude. If I were to not be honest about it, or be upfront with it, wouldn’t that be a disservice to both of us? You tell me. I have felt myself urge to get away, to not think of this person any longer because now I am in a beautiful country and all I feel is doubt. I don’t know how else to put it, I want someone to text me daily, someone who can’t go a day without texting me. Someone who is excited to talk to me about whatever, whenever. I want to feel like I belong to them, knowing full well I am my own person. I am in love with the person I am with but for what reasons that make me sacrifice the needs I wish to have. I need to have.

Here I am, I manifest someone who:

-uses cute names with me

-makes me feel special all the time

-remembers that I matter, regardless of where I am

-buys me sentimental gifts, doesn’t have to be big, but the ones that make me cry in a good way.

-makes me feel like my feelings are valid

-is upset when they make me cry

-calls me just because

-flowers just because

-plans our dates out, and then we switch

-fights with me but makes sure to know that I am loved.

-lastly, listens to me.

I think I was able to fully express how I felt, I am gonna try to sleep.

Or I will just write more.

“This is what I signed up for.”

I saw the details in the way you said my name, when you spoke it once.

i can tell it’s hard, even for us.

It’s because our minds clash, with expectations of the other, and how such a fast race ends, with us hurting one another.

I think for quick moments, for I feel lost within my thoughts,

for you are not aligned, and I am somewhat on a cross.

an X marks the spot, for what it was, a lost cost.

you’ve given me grief, and so much loss, for my heart is heavy with too much to bare,

for now I am aware, this is what I signed up for, right here.

for all the arguments of petty things such as cute names, and diamond rings,

I know you don’t love me, as though i wish you did.

but also that is fake, i remember how you kiss.

I am trapped in a cycle of promises you forgot to give.

from missed calls, and miss communication, it was our fate to end,

this is our final destination.

you and I, are as opposite as they come,

but you and I are as one.

there’s no one I’d rather fight with, not one single soul.

because they would let it go, but truth be told, i know that you won’t.

you’ll carry on, entertaining me, with sarcasm in your voice.

you are one person that blocks out all the noise.

so yes, should we be apart? would it be better that way?

of course, but who else could say they’ve been signed up for someone who knows how to make them stay.

-A.L.

0 notes

queenshelby · 3 years

Text

Roommates – Part Ten

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 3,600

Warning: Angst, Pregnancy, Smut

Note: This plays in 2020.

It was still rainy and stormy outside, but you didn’t care. You needed the fresh air on your face more than anything else right now as you felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

You walked besides the shore until, eventually, you found a sheltered area besides one of the old seaside castles where you sat down to think.

There was certainly a lot of thinking to be done and, eventually, you reached the conclusion that, what you should do now, is support your friend just as he had supported you following your breakup with James. Your friendship lasted for 12 years so far and now wasn’t the time to end it, nor was there any reason to do so.

But where did it leave you and the fact that you did what you swore to yourself you would never do. You had been intimate with Cillian and that, in your mind, was wrong now that you knew what you knew about Laura.

But why was it wrong, you then went to ponder on? What made it wrong, you wondered? Cillian and Laura were no longer together and, as far as you knew, Cillian never mislead her into thinking that he wanted a serious relationship with her. You knew it was a common theme and argument between them and, at least from his point of view, there were no feelings involved. So why shouldn’t you be with him now?

Of course, you realised fairly quickly that the reason that you should stay away from Cillian was Laura. She is your friend too and she is still hurt and wants him back, no matter how futile her desires and attempts to be with him might be. But does this mean you should deny yourself? After all, it’s been 12 years which it took you to get this far. It’s not that you had ever contemplated to sleep with Cillian, but you certainly were drawn to him now and, therefore, would you be a bad friend if you continued to be intimate with him?

Eventually, you reached the conclusion that the answer to your question was probably yes. Both, you and Cillian, found yourselves in a moral dilemma and, whilst you both slipped once and let your desires for each other get the better of you, it couldn’t happen again. That, of course, was unless the moral compass of the situation changed which made you wonder how it got so far in the first place.

***

When you arrived back home, you saw Cillian in the kitchen, making a cup of coffee and, whilst he acknowledged you, he was silent and waited for you to ask what you wanted to ask.

‘Why didn’t you tell me that Laura is pregnant?’ you eventually blurted out, causing Cillian to sigh heavily.

‘Because I promised her that I would not tell anyone until she had her first scan’ Cillian explained almost frustrated.

‘She hasn’t had a scan yet? Cillian, uhm, this is a lot to take in’ you observed and he nodded.

‘Not as far as I know’ Cillian then huffed out, causing you to walk over towards him and grab hold of both of his shoulders.

‘Listen Cillian, I don’t care what happened between you and I know said I would stay out of it, but she does need your support with this. You can’t just ignore the fact that you have a child on the way with her’ you said rather harshly, causing Cillian to break down in emotions.

‘What do you think I’ve been doing Y/N, eh?’ Cillian huffed out before one curse after another left his mouth.

‘She doesn’t fucking let me. I want to be part of the pregnancy and support her, not just financially but also emotionally. I want to be a father to this child but she just cuts me out. According to her, unless I get back together with her, I won’t be having any partake in this’ Cillian explained with a heavy heart as his eyes began to tear up.

‘Oh my god Cillian, I am sorry, I didn’t know’ you said surprised by Laura’s action before comforting him.

‘It’s alright. I didn’t tell you because I knew you wanted to stay out of it. I didn’t want to put you into this difficult position you are now in and I also knew that you had your own shit to deal with’ Cillian said, referring to your breakup with James.

‘Have you at least been able to communicate with her doctor? Or her? Anything at all?’ you then asked and Cillian shook his head.

‘No, nothing. I’ve been talking to her but she isn’t telling me much. She changes the topic and then goes on about all this shit that happened between us instead. I don’t even know how far along she is. I tried to get her in with a good obstetrician at Rotunda Hospital, but she hasn’t even made contact with the doctor nor is she registered at the maternity ward. I don’t fucking know what else to do and when I spoke to my lawyer about it, he told me that I can’t do anything until the child is born’ Cillian explained almost shattered.

‘Jesus Cillian…oh my god’ you said before asking him whether he knew about the pregnancy when he broke up with her and, as you had expected, he confirmed that he didn’t. But, little did you know that you just then and there opened up another can of worms.

‘She planned this Y/N, which makes it even more fucked up than it already is’ Cillian chuckled, unsure whether he should laugh or cry about the entire situation.

‘What do you mean she planned this?’ you asked curiously.

‘She had her implant removed without telling me, which is the real reason I ended it. I know she is your friend, but she’s fucking insane’ Cillian huffed out.

You were unsure what to make of Cillian’s comment and asked him to elaborate which is when he finally told you everything that you never wanted to know about their breakup.

According to Cillian, after the night him and Laura shared with Lindsay, which was something Laura organised, Laura became rather jealous and possessive.

Whilst there was no truth to it, Laura believed that Cillian was seeing Lindsay behind her back and that Lindsay was the reason he wouldn’t commit to her. The truth was that, according to Cillian, he never intended to commit to Laura because he simply didn’t think that this was what he wanted. At the time, his divorce with Danielle was going through settlement proceedings and committing to Laura was something that couldn’t do.

You recalled the arguments in the past and Laura pressuring Cillian to make a commitment which he outright told her he wasn’t willing to make.

‘Things had gone too far and she contacted my mother, introducing herself to her. She texted my sister and brother continuously, asking for my whereabouts when I was visiting Cork. She went through my phone checking for messages from other women. Things like that. It became relentless and she knew I was close to ending it. Little did I know that she had a plan in mind to make me stick around’ Cillian chuckled.

‘So, what made you think that she went off birth control behind your back? Did she actually admit to it?’ you then asked, causing Cillian to nod.

‘The bruise on her arm and the fact that the bulge from it under her skin was gone, gave it away. First, I didn’t think anything of it but when she did all this crazy stuff, I asked her about it and she admitted that she had, in fact, removed it. She wanted to make me stay by falling pregnant. How fucked up is that?’ Cillian then huffed out and you were shocked.

You didn’t expect that your friend Laura would ever do such a thing, going behind Cillian’s back to fall pregnant and make him commit.

Of course, after he’s been your friend for 12 years you believed him and he was quite obviously emotionally shattered by the situation.

‘So, when did you find out that she was pregnant?’ you wondered.

‘Two weeks later she texted me’ Cillian huffed out before continuing on. ‘She also texted Lindsay who then contacted me. After Laura had harassed her for weeks, she was obviously quite aware of the situation’ Cillian explained.

‘So, you decided to fuck her again? Not a smart move Murphy’ you laughed, causing Cillian to laugh as well.

‘Yeah, I think that was a mistake but I was in a pretty fucked up place at the time and Lindsay just stuck around and listened. I couldn’t really tell anyone else. Firstly, it’s fucking embarrassing and I still don’t know how I am going to explain this to any of my family. Secondly, I promised Laura and, despite of what happened between us, you know why I kept this promise right?’ Cillian said.

‘Yes, I do’ you responded, remembering the suffering Cillian’s ex-wife Danielle had to endure throughout 12 unsuccessful cycles of IVF and miscarriages, being the reason that her and Cillian never had any children together even after having been married for ten years.

With that in mind, you felt awful for your friend. You knew how much he wanted to have children for so many years and you realised that, despite his problems with Laura, he would probably be quite excited going through the pregnancy with her and be a father to his child if she would let him. He wanted to be involved and he wanted to be there for her, but he didn’t want to be with her.

‘Listen, I will talk to Laura, alright? I will try and convince her to let you be involved without forcing you to commit to her’ you suggested, holding onto Cillian’s hands.

‘You said that you won’t get involved in anything between Laura and me and I promised you to keep you out of it’ Cillian then said.

‘I know, but you’ve been my friend for 12 years and, after all the shit we have been through together, we will get through this too, right?’ you said with a warm smile.

‘Thank you. You are amazing you know that?’ Cillian said, finally smiling again.

‘I know’ you winked. ‘Despite, that’s just what friends do right? They help each other out’ you said with a warm smile before, without giving it another thought, giving Cillian a kiss.

Surprised, he gave into the kiss which was gentle and warm.

‘Is that what friends do too?’ he then chuckled when your lips drifted apart.

‘Only under the added benefit scheme introduced into solid friendships as part of this lockdown relief package’ you smirked before pressing your lips back onto his.

Your reservations had gone completely after talking to Cillian about what happened and, whilst you knew you that you were betraying your friend Laura, you found it difficult to sympathise with her at this very moment.

‘So, is this what you want then, despite everything that has happened?’ Cillian asked after you each caught a breath.

‘Yes, I think so. We both have needs and we trust each other, it just makes sense, right?’ you said in order to justify your decision and Cillian couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘Makes total sense’ Cillian laughed before continuing on. ‘I learned from my mistakes Y/N and I was very careful with Lindsay, but not so careful with you last night because, apart from my family, you are probably the person I trust the most in this world. You are most defiantly on the pill though, right?’ Cillian asked somewhat concerned.

‘Oh please, Cillian. Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t want to use you as a breeding bull’ you laughed, causing him to raise one of his eyebrows. ‘Yes, I am on the pill and never forgot a single one in over ten bloody years’ you then reassured him and, without any sort of warning, he crashed his lips back onto yours.

Your tongues met as he tangled one hand in the back of your hair, kissing you furiously.

‘I felt as though you held back last night’ you huffed out as your lips drifted apart. ‘Don’t hold back! Just fuck me!’ you then said, pulling him close again after he pulled his own t-shirt over his head while you removed yours.

‘I was just testing the waters Y/N’ he smirked before he pulled down your jeans eagerly while, at the same time, your hands went to his jeans and blessedly released his throbbing cock.

‘And I am not sure if I want you to see this side of me yet’ he then smirked, causing you to raise your eyebrows in return.

‘And what side is that Cillian?’ you giggled before whispering into his ear ‘show me your real kinky and filthy side.’

‘Soon, very soon’ Cillian then said before he kissed you again, hard and fast before both of you lost your jeans completely somewhere on the kitchen floor and Cillian lifted you up to sit on the kitchen table. He was much more forceful this time around and you quite enjoyed it.

Within one swift move, he unclasped your bra and thew it to the side before his hands rested on your breasts. You gasped as he shuffled down sufficiently to kiss each of them and close his mouth around a rigid pierced nipple. He pulled on it with his teeth and bit onto slightly, making you cry out.

At the same time, Cillian’s moved to in between your legs which were spread apart by his thighs as he was standing in front of you.

‘Fucking hell Y/N. What have you been thinking about, huh? You are fucking soaking’ he groaned as he observed that you were extremely wet already.

‘About you fucking me of course’ you giggled as Cillian brought his soaking wet fingers to your mouth.

‘Show me how fucking good you taste’ he instructed, making you taste yourself and you, of course, complied with his request and licked his fingers clean. But, when he watched you do this and felt your tongue piercing press against his fingers, he couldn't take it anymore.

‘Spread your legs wider’ he instructed as he pulled his hand away from your mouth and took hold of his rigid member, aiming it towards the dripping nirvana in front of him.

He knew he was rushing things, and as much as he wanted to take you, he couldn't if you weren’t ready. Your intense gaze held a mixture of the smirk and the desire.

‘Cillian, please shove your cock inside me already’ you then whined and, without a word, he plunged into you.

‘Jesus fucking Christ, you are so tight’ Cillian groaned while his eyes screwed shut as soon as your tight pussy had engulfed him, and he couldn't tell your groans apart from his own.

Good god, he felt amazing, so fucking amazing you couldn't move, completely paralysed with pleasure.

‘Oh god Cillian’ you moaned eventually as he hovered over you, propped up against the table, his cock buried in your pussy and his face buried in the crook of your neck.

You could vaguely hear voices from the TV in the other room over the sound of your shuttering breath, but it had no more meaning than anything else in the world that wasn't currently inside of you. And that was Cillian.

‘Who would have thought that we would ever fuck, eh’ Cillian observed as he thrusted in and out of you, slow at first and then with increased speed and force, Cillian began to slightly pinch your nipples. That broke your paralysis and you wiggled and moaned in pleasure, making him fuck you harder and deeper. Cillian’s mouth eventually found your neck and ear as he began to pivot in and out of you, relishing just how tight and wet you were.

‘Crazy I know…but also so damn good’ you moaned his name and he picked up his pace again. You swore under your breath and Cillian slid a hand in between your legs to rub your clit and play with your clitoral piercing the way he had watched you do it before.

‘Fuck, that’s it, Cillian’ you moaned and then, you came, whimpering and shuddering, as Cillian watched the ecstasy pass through the delicate features of your face. He continued stroking you gently as you rode out your climax and only stopped when you gripped his wrist with your hand.

‘Too sensitive’ you huffed out, causing Cillian to smirk and, only when you pressed your hands against Cillian’s chest, he reluctantly pulled out of you.

But he wasn’t done with you yet and, before you knew it, he pulled you off the table and spun you around.

Willingly, you leaned forward, your face pressing against the hard wood of the kitchen table while you spread your legs widely, allowing him better access to your wet mound.

It didn’t take him long to line himself up with your entrance and, as the lips of your wet pussy parted to receive the head of his cock, he could hear you moan over the drumming rain outside. You immediately pushed back against him, forcing him inside of you a little deeper.

‘That’s it, push back against my cock’ Cillian instructed as he loved seeing your figure arched with pleasure before him and his cock buried inside you. What on earth was he missing out on for twelve years, he wondered?

The first loud rumbles of the thunder outside drowned out the first fleshy slaps of his thighs against your ass as he started to pump himself in and out of the wet grip of your pussy. The feeling of pleasure on his cock was so exquisite that for a moment he could not contain the urge to pound you harder.

‘Oh god yes, Cillian fuck me’ you moaned as he thrust deeper and faster into you, enjoying the feel of you hungrily pressing against him.

‘You like being taken like this don’t you? Pinned down and fucked hard?’ Cillian groaned as your moans had become loud enough now to be heard over the storm raging outside.

‘Yes, oh god yes, Cillian, please don’t stop’ you screamed out as you could feel another orgasm building as he pumped away.

By this point, Cillian’s cock was also screaming for release and you crying out beneath him didn’t help his urge to cum.

‘Harder’ you cried out and Cillian began to piston into you with rapid sharp strokes. You dug your nails into the table to brace against the pounding as Cillian drilled you as hard as he could.

Just as he continued to thrust in and out of you, he reached one of his hands between your legs to massage your clit again. The hard slap of his body against your tight ass was loud and he felt the sweat prickling on his body. The scent of your sex was filling the kitchen and, before long, your moans turned to gasps and little sharp cries of pleasure and Cillian felt your body shudder against his as you came.

‘Oh god Cillian, yes fuck, yes’ you shouted out as your second orgasm washed over you and you indulged in the pleasure he gave you by calling out his name.

‘Jesus Y/N, fuck’ Cillian groaned as his balls tingled with his own building climax. Cillian pulled you back into him by the hips and thrust as deeply into your pussy as he could as the first waves of his orgasm broke.

The eruption was intense. The spasms of pleasure were joined with the satisfying feeling of spurts of his semen flooding deep into your body. He kept pumping, though now slowly, even after the pulsing in his crotch subsided.

You sighed your contentment. The feel of your pussy milking the last drops from his now hyper-sensitive cock was delightful torture and Cillian groaned almost in agony.

You giggled and lifted your body up and, as you did so, Cillian’s cock slipped free of the embrace of your pussy.

‘So fucking sexy, leaking all my cum from your pussy’ Cillian then observed as he ran one of his fingers through your mound again, collecting some of his semen before guiding it up to your mouth.

‘Hmm, I like the way you taste. Took me only 12 years to find out’ you grinned as you suggestively licked his cum from his fingers.

‘I didn’t ever think that this would actually happen, seeing my cock inside you’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Tell me about it’ you said before giving Cillian a quick kiss. ‘By the way, nice dirty talk, I like it’ you then smirked, being rather surprised by your friend’s dirty vocabulary.

‘You’ve heard nothing yet’ Cillian said as he was getting dressed again.

‘Coffee?’ you then asked before walking over towards the coffee machine completely naked, wiggling your butt on full display.

‘Uhm sure, thanks’ Cillian laughed before putting his briefs back on and sitting down at the table while he watched you still somewhat in disbelieve.

***

After you got on with your chores and tasks for the day, you decided to finally call Laura to have this difficult conversation with her.

But, she didn’t pick up any of your calls and, instead, sent you a text message.

‘Can’t talk right now’ was all it said.

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15 @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r @tellingyouastory @captivatedbycillianmurphy @namelesslosers @littlewhiterose @ttzamara @ttzamara @cilleveryone

@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon @ysmmsy

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby @thenattitude

#Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy imagine

154 notes · View notes

youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years

Text

A Heartbeat Away | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x gender neutral!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.7k

✦ based off the song I Should’ve Kissed You by One Direction

✦ summary — Damian is haunted by the fact that he only said good night when he should have kissed you.

✦ warnings — light angst, mentions of pregnancy (a minor character is pregnant), mentions of food and beverages, fluff.

✦ author's note i — randomly remembered my obsession with this song and couldn’t get it out of my head.

✦ author's note ii — the parts in italics are flashbacks.

════════════════════════

Ever since he started living with Jason, Damian found himself straying away from the things that held him back.

His life would never be normal, but in hindsight, he could admit things weren’t as bad.

The fallout with his father came crashing down in the worst moment possible — Dick was dead and his relationship with Tim wasn’t the best.

As little as he knew Jason, he was sure he could trust him so he asked for his help instead of somebody else’s.

And Jason didn’t say no. Whether he had the heart to do it or not was irrelevant because he still took Damian in and helped him find a job.

He hated said job.

‘It’s a job,’ you had told him, ‘you’re not supposed to like it.’

You.

Damian rarely stopped thinking about you. Calling it infatuation felt like an understatement, and yet he couldn’t find a better word to describe the whirlwind of emotions you gave him.

He still remembered the day he met you for the first time.

Jason paced in the living room, perking up every time he heard a noise outside the apartment.

You’re driving me insane,” Damian said from the small dining table.

”Roy’s late.”

”Why are you surprised?”

Jason glared at him.

Both of them heard somebody stand on the other side of the door. Their steps didn’t sound like Roy’s.

Pulling the door open, Jason was ready to snap at whoever had knocked.

“You ordered something and gave my apartment number instead of yours. Again.”

Damian didn’t recognize the voice so he slanted his body to the side to see who it was. He couldn’t stop staring.

”I’ll make it up to you.”

”Jay,” you sighed. “I’ve told you before, you just need to tell me beforehand if you don’t want things to arrive to your apartment. My roommate could have opened it.”

Damian chuckled, a single elbow resting on the table.

Jason craned his neck. “You think this is funny?”

”I think you’re a moron.”

”Shut up and come meet our neighbor.”

Damian didn’t have to be told twice. He stood up with an eagerness he hadn’t felt since Jason texted him to let him know he had found the materials so he could build a suit and go back to patrol.

”This is my brother Damian.” Jason turned around to place the package under the table next to the door.

He knew you’d either seen him before or heard about him the moment his eyes landed on you. People always had a visceral reaction when they met him, some found him attractive, others attempted to ask for favors, and some recoiled in fear.

But you didn’t. You held his gaze and stood in the same spot you had been since you knocked on the door.

And whether it had been in a newspaper or a gossip forum, he was glad you knew something about him. There was something about the way you stared at him that screamed for him to trust you. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

“Nice to meet you,” you politely said, smiling at him.

Stunned by the fact that you hadn’t mocked him, and now assuming it wasn’t wishful thinking after all, he tilted his head. Most people did mock now that he wasn’t under his father’s wing.

Still, he said, “Likewise.”

Your smile became warmer. “I live three doors down the hallway in case you need anything.”

He felt a pang in his chest at the gesture. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Weird sensations in his chest were normal when he was around you. Befriending you was easier than he’d ever admit and talking to you became the highlight of his day.

The pangs in his chest turned into a fluttering sensation in a heartbeat. You’d make him feel breathless when you did the smallest things — when you smiled at him, when you complained about other neighbors with him, when you asked about his day.

He felt special. For once in his life for being the closest he had ever been to resemble a normal person.

And he also remembered, quite painfully, that night he let you walk away without mustering the courage to tell you —or show you— the way you made him feel.

The deserted hallway was yet another proof of how easy it was to lose track of time around you.

Damian hadn’t expected to get back home past midnight or to skip patrol, but 1:00 AM turned into 2:00 and he couldn’t part from you no matter how many times he tried to remind himself to do it.

He hadn’t even expected to enjoy the state fair as an adult, yet he couldn’t remember a time he had more fun than that evening.

You gazed up at him, waiting for him to either do or say something. Anything other than stare at you in the middle of the hallway.

You had already thanked him for making you company, there was no way you’d say anything. And he froze.

“Good night,” he sputtered.

Your brow twitched. “Night.”

He watched you unlock your door and get inside your apartment with a heavy heart.

You moved out a couple months ago and he hadn’t seen you since then. The texts the two of you exchanged were sporadic and they bordered in formal.

He should have kissed you, he was aware of that. And to make matters worse, Jason chewed him out when he found out.

He still looked for you every morning he left the apartment as though you’d remember you had forgotten something. That you had forgotten him.

Jon said it was for the best, that somebody as sweet as you didn’t deserve to carry with his baggage.

Damian knew his best friend to be right, but how could he let go of you that easily when you made him see he was more than his mistakes and regrets?

He didn’t need anybody to carry him, he could drag himself anywhere if needed.

He simply hated the hole in the pit of his stomach every time he entertained the possibility of having to see you one day with somebody else because he wasn’t brave enough to say what he needed to let out.

The idea of being out of time was killing him slowly, so naturally, he’d sought a quick death.

════════════════════════

You gasped upon opening the door. You weren’t expecting anybody to be outside — much less Damian Wayne.

“Oh!”

“Hi,” he softly greeted.

You blinked rapidly. “Did you need anything?”

“I wanted to... Are you on your way out?”

“I’m just dropping this off for my mom.” You momentarily lifted the bags you were carrying in one hand. “She lives nearby.”

He spared a look to the reusable bags in your grasp. “Is she sick?”

“Pregnant,” you explained, playing with your keys. “It’s high risk due to her age so we take as much care of her as we can.”

Damian walked backward, allowing you to come out of the apartment and lock the door.

As you pushed the door to make sure it was locked, he asked, “Would you care for some company?”

Turning around, you gave him a small smile. “That would be lovely.”

He reached over. “Let me help.”

“They’re not heavy.”

“I insist.”

”Okay.” You handed him the bags and took the initiative to lead the way.

He reached your side immediately.

Not knowing what else to do, aware you’d let something slip if you didn’t find something, you made small talk. “How’s Jason?”

“As annoying as always.”

You still remembered when he meant those words, when he complained about Jason and how often they butted heads. His tone was different now, lighter, almost playful.

“Good to know some things never change.”

You walked the streets with an ease you hadn’t been able to in years. Growing up in that neighborhood meant which streets to avoid, and sadly, most of them were unsafe.

There were many things you could have asked or said, perhaps apologize for being cold while texting.

You were in your right to be cold and you could have just not answered, but you wanted to keep contact even though you were hurt.

Damian was great company. It was a shame you misread the entire situation and couldn’t go back to chat with him like before.

It took you a few attempts to get them to talk comfortably, but once he was able to, he didn’t look back. He even gossiped with you.

Stopping in front of the house, you looked around to make sure your mom had the windows open. Once sure, you walked up the front steps.

You withdrew a single key from your back pocket and extended your other hand so Damian would give you the bags.

The floors were recently mopped which meant your aunt had visited that day.

“It’s me,” you yelled so your mom wouldn’t get up. It was her time to be watching TV in the living room.

Carrying the bags towards the kitchen, you caught the jingle from a commercial.

You filled a glass with water and added a couple of ice cubes.

Your mom was comfortably sat on a recliner, feet up and remote control on her thigh. “Hurry back before it gets dark.”

“Don’t worry, a friend of mine walked me here.” You handed her the glass. “Do you need anything else?”

She ignored your question as she took the glass. “Who is it?”

“You don’t know him.”

“Him?” She lifted an eyebrow.

You hadn’t mentioned a guy to her in almost two years now, her surprise was understandable. “Not now.”

“Oh, so it is like that?”

Maybe it was and maybe that was the issue. She wouldn’t blame you if she knew him like you did, if she heard him laugh or saw him change his demeanor to accommodate to somebody else’s sensibilities.

You didn’t think you’d witness anything remotely close to that when you met him for the first time, but you learned really quickly that Damian was full of surprises.

“I’ll call in the morning in case you need something. I’m working ’til 3:00 PM tomorrow.”

“It’s okay.” She took a sip of water. “Did you bring anything sweet?”

“Homemade muffins and a few chocolate bars. Do you want one now?”

She shook her head. “I’ll wait after dinner.”

You kissed her cheek. “Call me, please.”

“Go, go.” She ushered you to go with a gesture of her hand. “Don’t make your friend wait.”

It was your time to ignore her comment.

Damian was sat on the front steps when you came out, looking up at the darkening sky.

“Is everything alright?” you asked in a whisper as to not scare him.

“No.” He shook his head and stood up. “I mean, yes. How’s your mother?”

“She’s good. Having fun watching reality TV.”

Damian squinted. “Is reality TV really that entertaining?”

“It’s mindless stuff, but it’s fun sometimes. You get to judge other people’s lives without feeling remorse because it’s most likely fake.”

The walk back was way shorter and you didn’t want to part. It was time to swallow your pride and your feelings for him.

He didn’t part ways with you at the building entrance. He walked beside you until you reached the elevator — Damian extended his arm to keep the doors open and allowed you to get in first. He followed suit.

You turned the lights on with Damian on your tail. He did wait for you to invite him in, but you were sure both of you knew there was no way you wouldn’t.

“I made muffins. Do you want one?”

Damian nodded.

You guided him to the dining table where a trippy vase in pastel colors rested with flowers.

He looked around the apartment as he walked towards the table. As he sat down, he fixed his eyes on the vase.

“Green or black?”

“Mmh?”

“Your tea.”

You could swear you saw him smile to himself.

“Black.” He placed his cellphone on the table. “You still have that thing,” he said, referring to the trippy vase.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He huffed a laugh. “Jason said it was ugly.”

“Jason doesn’t have the best taste in the world,” you lightheartedly retorted.

The vase was precious to you, a gift from Damian who spooked you in the middle of a rainy night and made you knock your favorite vase.

You set a plate in front of him and placed the muffin there. “Your tea’s almost ready.”

“No roommate this time?”

“Nope. I miss Lou, but I don’t miss having a roommate that much.”

“I thought the move was temporary just so you could be close to your mother...”

“It is, but there’s still a long way to go. The baby should be here next month and she’ll need help around the house.” You disappeared for a moment as you looked for a mug.

Having found one, you dropped the teabag and poured the boiling water in.

“Sugar.” You put the sugar bowl down just in front of the mug. Feeling his eyes on the side of your face, you gazed at him. “It’s brown, don’t worry.”

He relaxed and uncovered the sugar bowl. “Is the father of your mother’s child around?”

“Yeah.” You sat down on the chair closest to his. “She remarried last year and her husband tries to help, but you know, work gets in the way.”

“Tell me if I can help with anything.”

“Don’t worry, you have enough things to juggle with already.”

“What’s one more? At least let me make you company or walk you home. These streets are dangerous.”

You softly nodded. From the day you met him you knew you would never be able to tell him no — and having his company after a long day sounded nice.

“So...”

“So,” you encouraged him to go on.

“Are you seeing anybody?”

“No. I thought I was a little while ago, but...” You hoped he’d understand what you were getting at. “I guess something got lost in translation.”

“Did it? Or was he too much of a coward to show the way he felt?”

“Don’t.” You hated hearing him talk like that about himself.

“You don’t know how much I regret not kissing you that night. I—“ He sighed, twisting his mouth as he frowned. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“At least now I know you did think about doing it.”

“I did. Many times throughout the night.” He turned to the side to fully look at you. “I wanted to find the perfect moment and became overwhelmed. Sounds like a bad excuse, but I swear it’s the truth.”

“I believe you.”

Damian scooted closer and reached over to place his hand on your face. Softly, he caressed your cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

You leaned onto his touch, tilting your head. “Me too. Sorry for being such an ass.”

“It’s fine. I would have reacted similarly.”

“Similarly or worse?”

“Worse.”

You laughed, making him smile.

“May I?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Damian leaned in, placing his free hand on the back of your chair as his nose brushed yours.

His lips softly connected with yours, but the slow pace didn’t last. The two of you had wasted too much time, thrown away too many opportunities to be this close —or closer— and patience wasn’t a virtue Damian possessed.

The chair was now balancing itself in two legs, making you interrupt the kiss with a squeal.

Damian then made you stand up and wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips were immediately back on yours.

Your hands went up to rest on his biceps as he kissed you again. His arms tightened around you as he deepened the kiss and you melted.

You melted into the kiss, onto his warmth, due to the fact that he wanted this as much as you did.

Kissing him had become a mere fantasy for you, and there he was, not only making it a reality but exceeding your expectations.

Grabbing him by the neck, you broke the kiss in search of air. His breath was barely ragged and you remembered he told you he could hold it in for a long time.

You needed him to teach you just to be able to kiss him for longer.

“That was nice,” you said, still breathless.

“Yeah, really nice. We should do it more often.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“I’m telling you I want you to be mine.”

All in or nothing, of course. Jason had warned you that Damian didn’t take things lightly.

But you were okay with that.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #damian wayne

190 notes · View notes

babylooneytoonz · 3 years

Text

mr. shelby's secretary [CEO AU]

[GIF by @maskingfragility]

— pairing: Modern! Tommy Shelby x Reader

— summary : Prompt request 1) “Can you shut up for once in your life?” 2) “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.” 3)“You’re insane,” “You love me,” “Not right now I don’t.” 4) "I think you might be my soulmate," as requested by @sighonahurricane and @screechingexpertpruneneck [ Hope you like it. I decided to club both the requests into one as the prompts were almost the same ones.🤍]

— warnings: none

[Masterlist]

You had been an exceptional student, all through school, then all through college and then had begun working for one of the most famous firms in London. Due to unforeseen circumstances, when your father passed away due to a terminal illness, you had to quit your job in London and move to Birmingham to take care of your mother.

Birmingham was an altogether different world, atleast as compared to London, but it was a good change for you. Even luckier for you was the fact that just weeks into moving to Birmingham City, you interviewed for a secretary position for CEO of Shelby Brothers LTD, Thomas Shelby and you had gotten the job.

You had been now working for him for over three months now, but the journey had definitely not been easy. You still remembered how your first day at work had been an absolute disaster. You had arrived on time, at 9 am. You still had an hour to go before Tommy entered his office at 10 am, and there were a few stacks of papers that you had to clear.

Before starting your work, you had decided to get yourself a mug of coffee to boost up your day but while you were at the pantry, sitting and sipping your coffee, your phone beeped. When you looked at the message, colour drained from your face.

Thomas Shelby had a meeting at 10, and thus, he had decided he would come in early, and he hadn't found you in your adjoining cabin, and neither were the papers from his room that he wanted gone were actually gone. The colour drained from your face when you saw his text— in three words did he write— get in here, ASAP.

The hearing that you received from Tommy that day, you doubted if you had retained your job after the first day, but strangely, Tommy didn't fire you. That was the only time you actually made him angry though and things slowly changed after that. Thomas Shelby began relying on you more and more as the days passed. He even took your opinions, or let you select the suits he was going to wear on events, without even expressing any doubt on you.

For Tommy, you were like a breath of fresh air in times he needed it the most. You were exceptionally good at your work, but what he liked secretly about you was the fact that you were good at handling him— be it his anger, that you took almost gracefully, without even bothering to spite him back. You listened to him scream and yell at you, but you never lost your own temper. Or be it the recognition of his tiny needs, like when he was in a dire need of coffee.

Tommy would be lying now if he said that he didn't need you; he was now completely dependant on you. Everyday, when he came to work, the first thing he looked at was your smiling face through the glass panels of your adjoining cabin, before he disappeared into his office, and there lay his mug of piping hot black coffee without sugar, and a sandwich, or pancakes, you knowing well aware that the man came to office on an empty stomach. He would call you into his cabin atleast fifty times in a day.

Few months into you working for Mr. Shelby, you were finally growing to despise the man less and less, and learn to get accustomed to his cold outer exterior, and get warmed up to the minutest reflections of the gentleness he hid inside of him.

Tommy was getting impatient, as he leaned against his mahogany desk, his shirt rolled up by the sleeves up to his elbows as he rested the elbows against the surface of the desk. A lit cigarette rested in his left hand, as he stared at the rain clogged glass window in his office. It was raining heavily, and he wondered if it was the weather that had you actually running almost two hours late when you never were late.

He swiped his palm over his face, worry gnawed at the pit of his stomach. He knew you weren't like that. In fact, you were one of the most punctual person he had actually met. He stood up, dabbing the lit end of the cigarette into his ashtray, before he grabbed his coat and walked out of his office. Mary, one of the employees who were friends with you, was outside, talking to one of the interns.

"Mary? Have you heard from [Y/N]? She isn't in yet," Tommy asked, and the woman turned, her eyes almost widening for Tommy seldom spoke to anyone in the office, unless required.

"Mr. Shelby, uh, sir, I don't know. I haven't seen her in today, I was also wondering—" she began, but before she could complete her sentence, impatient Tommy had cut her off.

"Mary, can you go through the company records and give me her address?"

"Definitely, Mr. Shelby," the woman drawled, as she hunched over her system, her fingers tapping against the keypad as she pulled out your address from the company records. She noted the address down on a slip of paper, and looked up at him, "Mr. Shelby, I can ask someone to check on her if you'd like? Maybe due to the weather, her car broke down."

"It's okay, Mary, I'm already headed out, just hand me the address," he impatiently threw out his palm, and the woman placed the parchment in his hands, knowing well as to not say anything else. Tommy turned around and slowly began walking out of the building towards the elevator and pressed the button.

The rains were not going to die down anytime soon, that was something that Tommy noted as he brought the car to a halt outside the address that Mary had handed him. He squinted his eyes, eyeing the plain looking building that stood in front of him, eyeing the first floor that you occupied. He wondered if you had already left for he couldn't see your car anywhere in sight.

Finally, he pulled out his umbrella from the back seat of the car, and stepped out into the lashing rains, dashing through the puddles towards your apartment where an elderly woman was at the door, shielded from the rains underneath the front porch.

"Can I help you?" The woman said in a kind voice, as she moved out of the way, and let Tommy fix himself underneath the porch to find a shelter from the rains.

"I'm looking for,uh, Miss [Y/N]. She works for me," Tommy muttered, under his breath.

"Oh, dear. You're Thomas Shelby? The CEO of Shelby Brothers LTD?" The woman's eyes began glistening with excitement and Tommy nodded, his eyebrows creasing into a hint of a frown. He wasn't here for a fangirl moment.

"Is she here?" Tommy's impatience was a good enough answer for the woman, who nodded and immediately informed him that you had already left for work over an hour ago.

This did nothing to cease the worry pooling inside of him. If you had already left for work, then why weren't you in office? He pulled out his phone, placing his palm on the screen as though shielding it from the woman's unwanted, prying eyes, hoping you had left him a message but you hadn't.

"Thank you," he finally muttered, as he ran out into the rain again, and this time, he didn't even bother using the umbrella, letting himself get drenched from the porch to the car.

Turning the ignition on, he slowly pulled the car on the road, and he started driving in a slow pace, his eyes on the road in front of him.

As if someone had been listening in on his thoughts secretly and had decided to act on it, Tommy brought the car to an abrupt half, applying the brakes. There you were, right in front of his eyes, and Tommy couldn't help but let himself smile warmly, after ages.

From what he could see, it was clear what had taken you so long. You had your heels in your hands, your body was drenched in the rain, your hair sticking to your face. Your knees had mud on it, but that didn't deter you from running about the muddy road, helping the elderlies out of the bus that had broken down.

He saw, as you took the shopping bags from one of the older men, and gave your arm to him that he took and you helped him step out of the abandoned vehicle, and you helped him cross the muddy road, where the tyres of the bus had gotten stuck.

He watched you for a few minutes, leaning back against the car seat, his hand flying to his wet hair. After a few seconds, he decided to quietly head back to the office, without even letting you know that he had seen you.

About an hour later, you rushed into your office. You had managed to head back home and change into a fresh set of clothing, and put your dead phone on charge. Now you were back, and your heart was strumming inside your chest with fear, you knew Tommy would be mad— very mad.

Slowly, you brought your fisted palm to his door and knocked twice.

"Come in," Tommy called out from the inside; he sounded much calmer than what you had expected him to be, and this made you frown. You had expected him to be snarling. Timidly, you made your way up to his desk, your fingers nervously toying with each other as you looked at him. He had his laptop in front of him, and his fingers skimmed over the keypad. He gave you one glance, and looked back at the screen once again. His ignorance made your heart churn.

"Mr. Shelby?" You asked.

"Yes, [Y/N]?" Tommy looked at you, through his round frames.

"Aren't you angry I'm late?" You blurted, mentally cursing yourself, silently.

He looked at you, amused. Your innocence made his heart flutter but he wasnt going to admit it anytime soon. He noticed your body posture, you were standing like a meek little lamb, afraid of him. He stood up from the leather chair he was sitting on and placed his glasses on his desk, before he moved around his desk to where you were. He then fixed himself directly in front of you and gave you a smile, "Why would I be angry? Go take an off today, [Y/N]. You deserve it."

You were confused by his sudden behaviour but you dared not complain, or question him lest he changed his mind. You gave him a haphazard smile as you dashed out of his office, weirded out by the change in his behaviour.

It was Saturday night, and it meant staying up late with a good Netflix series on, and some good bingewatching and munching on snacks for you. Your mother had already gone to bed, for she was an early sleeper. You had managed to sneak into the kitchen, and heat up the leftovers from lunch; the pasta your mum had prepared for you.

You turned your laptop on, letting it rest against your belly as you began browsing through the newest Netflix collection, trying to settle on a movie, when there was a buzz in your phone. You squinted your eyes when your phone started glowing. Your hand reached out as you grabbed it and began reading the SMS from your boss.

Thomas: be at Richard's at 7 in the eve. Got some really imp clients coming over. will be needing you to take the notes.

You frowned, there went your Sunday weekend plans down the drain; not that you had any solid plans, other than Netflix.

Sunday came by faster than you had imagined it to be, and you were standing in front of your wardrobe, weighing the different outfits that you had to fix a suitable one for the dinner at Richard's. Richard's was one of the posher restaurants, and you wanted to look your best, even if it was just business.

Finally, even though your bedroom looked like a typhoon had occurred inside your room, you were able to pick out a dress. It was just the right amount of professional, and casual. It was navy blue, the neck cut deep enough but yet, it wasn't trashy one bit. Once you had changed into it, you admired your form in the mirror, secretly content by the way it hung across your curves, ecen accentuating your curves. You couldn't help but secretly think of Thomas Shelby's reaction when he saw you in this dress.

You were startled when your phone started ringing, pulling you out of your not so in innocent thoughts about your own boss. When you saw his name flash on your lockscreen, you couldn't help but frown. Reluctantly, you tapped on the talk icon, flinging the phone to your ears, "Yes, Mr. Shelby?"

"Grey or black? Red tie or navy blue? I can't fucking decide what to wear. Why is it the fucking weekend [Y/N]. I don't fucking know what to wear," he sounded exasperated and worked up on the other side of the phone and you couldn't help but chuckle silently, silently enjoying this. You knew this would happen.

"The grey with the blue tie, Mr. Shelby, you can make any girl crazy in the grey tux of yours," you smiled, aimlessly drawing your fingers through your hair. You didn't know how you got that courage to openly flirt with him, but you didn't stop yourself from doing it. What suprised you was the fact that Tommy only let you do it. After a minute of silence, he hummed and you could hear him practically pull his tux off the hanger and he murmured, "the grey one it is then."

You kept the phone to your ear, not wanting to disconnect even though he wasn't speaking to you. Oddly enough, even in the silence that lingered on that call, you felt a sense on intimacy, something that you didn't want to let go off, as you grabbed your lipstick and using your free hand, began applying it delicately to your lips.

"What are you wearing?" Tommy's voice reached your ears, and you couldn't help but bite into the insides of your cheeks, feeling giddy in your chest.

"Navy blue dress I wore at the office party, Mr. Shelby. I can change if you want, it's a little too much, don't you think?" You nervously babbled.

"No, keep it on. It compliments my tie."

You smiled upon listening to his words, and just like that, without a parting, Tommy disconnected, sliding his phone into his pocket, his fingers toying with the fabric of his navy blue tie. Even if he was bent of wearing the red one silently, he was now going to switch to the blue one, just because you were wearing blue.

"Miss, do you have a reservation?" The manager asked you, and you smiled courteously.

"Yes, it should be under a Mr. Thomas Shelby?" You replied, and the man immediately nodded and his eyes began scanning through the contents of the register in front of him.

"Ah, you must be Miss [Y/N]. Please follow me, we are delighted to have you," he slowly turned away from you, and you began following him through the open air restaurant, where archaic white gazebos stood tall, adorned with fairy lights, and inside the gazebos were comfortable tables and dine in facilities.

Tommy was finally in sight. He was at the farthest gazebo that stood directly beside the narrow stream, that shone due to the moonlight falling on it.

It wasn't Tommy that captured your attention though, it was the woman dressed in a beautiful red evening dress, her perfectly toned legs covered in sheer black stockings. Her long black hair fell lusciously over her shoulders as she threw back her head and laughed at something Thomas probably said. What made you a tiny bit of jealous was the fact that the two of them looked like they were long time friends; Tommy rarely smiled, and especially never in the open.

You cleared your throat a little too loudly and Tommy turned towards you, and so did the woman in the red dress. You couldn't help but think how beautiful the woman was.

"Tatiana, this is my secretary [Y/N]. She will be going through the final papers and the other formalities," Tommy blinked, his palm ghosting the low of your back as he guided you into an empty chair and you sat down, smiling at Tatiana.

"[Y/N], this is my friend, and soon to be business partner, Tatiana Petrovna," You watched from the corner of your eye as Tommy leaned towards her and he placed his hand on her thigh. You grabbed the fabric of your dress, awkwardly balling the fabric along your fists, although shielded by the table.

The business meeting lasted for an hour, and by the time the three of you were done, half of the restaurant had gotten empty.

"It was a pleasure meeting you once again, Thomas, and even a greater pleasure doing business with you," she gave Tommy her hand and they shook it. You noted how the handshake lingered for a little longer than it was supposed to. Thomas stood up, but you kept seated, as you watched the woman turn away and began strutting down the garden path, towards a massive black SUV parked by the other side.

After a minute of silence, Tommy sighed and he sat down, his earlier jolly expression having dissipated into thin air. He pulled out a cigarette box from the pocket of his tux and brought it up to his lips, flicking you a quick glance.

"You alright?"

"Me? Oh I am more than alright, Mr. Shelby. It's a lovely night, and I'm sitting at one of the loveliest places in Birmingham, with such a lovely company," you deadpanned, giving him a stare down.

"You don't look happy to be here, love," he brought the lit cigarette to his lips, inhaling smoke from it as he eyed you carefully. One of the waiters stepped forward, clearing his throat and you saw that he had a bottle of wine in his hands. Tommy blinked and motioned to the waiter to fill up the glasses and once he had left, his fingers curled against his glass and he lifted it, taking a sip of it.

"Oh, Mr. Shelby, I am delighted to be here, don't you see that? Can we leave?" You arched forward, letting your elbows rest against the table, your glass of wine laying untouched.

Tommy parted his lips, as though he wanted to say something but before words came out, he pressed his lips shut and stood up, grabbing his coat that hung from the back of his chair, "Alright, I'll drop you home yeah? Come on."

Tommy and you quietly walked back to his car and you got into the passenger's seat as Tommy got into the drivers. He slowly pulled the car off the driveway and began driving towards your apartment.

You were still fuming; raging from the inside as you kept glancing at the silhouettes of the buildings passing you by.

"What is the matter with you, ey?" Tommy suddenly turned towards you, lowering the speed of the car and moving it to the side so he could slowly bring the vehicle to a halt.

"Nothing is. Can we please keep moving, Mr. Shelby? I don't have all night," you hissed venomously at him and he just ran his hand through his hair, exasperated. He didn't know what had gotten into you suddenly.

He suddenly reached for your arm and pulled you forcefully towards him, his eyes gazing into yours, "Will you answer me? What the fuck is the matter with you?"

"Oh, nothing's the matter with me, Mr. Shelby. I don't get why you had me over that wretched little romantic dinner as a third wheel when there weren't even enough notes to make," you blurted out the entire sentence in one go, firing the words at him so fast that it took him a minute to digest them.

"Wait, romantic?" He tilted his head slightly, and his index came to rest on his chin for a second before he sat back against the car seat again, "you think me and Tatiana..?"

"Don't spill your romantic or your sexual endeavours in front of me, Mr. Shelby, Im just a lowly secretary," you fumed, and Tommy couldn't help but feel his lips twitch in amusement at how adorably cute you looked when you were angry and jealous.

"Well, now to think of it, eh, we did have some good fucks a few years back," Tommy muttered, in a low voice. Although he knew this would most probably not end very well, but a devil inside of him was already rising, and your jealousy had given birth to a sudden desire in him to have you spill everything you felt for him to him.

You gasped, your jaw dropping as you turned to him, studying his face. Your hand flew to the car lock, and you unlocked it, immediately stepping out of the vehicle, and Tommy cursed under his breath when he realized that he had probably taken it too far. By the time, he stepped out after you, you had already drawn your phone out, and you were trying to book an Uber when he snatched your phone.

"Get into the fucking car, [Y/N]."

"Give me my phone back, Mr. Shelby, I am not in the mood to do this," you threw out your hand, nudging him to hand you your phone.

He was ready to give you back your phone but before he could, his thumb mistakenly pressed on to the power button, and your phone lit up, your cheeks turning a scarlet red when he saw your lockscreen that had his photo on it.

"Wait, am I your lockscreen?” he looked at you smugly, and you couldn't help but feel embarrassed at the sight of it. Great job done [Y/N].

"You weren't supposed to see that," you whispered, tonguing the insides on your cheeks, flustered.

This time he gave you a smile that was gentler than what he had ever given you. He handed you your phone back, and decided not to tease you about the lockscreen.

"Get into the car, [Y/N], please?" He looked into your eyes, his eyes beckoning yours to listen, and you groaned, nodding. He opened the car door for you once again, and quietly you sat down inside, crossing your arms over your chest.

It was as if he knew that you were in no mood to talk, because he didn't force you to. Quietly, he manoeuvred the vehicle through the cuts and turns and you let your head rest against the windowpane. Within seconds, you were drifting into a light sleep.

About ten minutes later, Tommy pled up on your driveway, but even the car coming to a halt wasn't enough to break your slumber. He slowly turned to look at you, and the sight of you was enough to melt his heart. Reluctantly he brought his shaky palm up to the side of your face as he pushed your hair off the side of it, his fingers gentle against you. You stirred slightly, your eyes fluttering awake as Tommy smiled to himself, whispering, "I think you might be my soulmate, eh, if there is a concept of one. I'd like to believe you're my fucking soulmate." It was so low, you couldn't hear any of it.

"We're here," he announced, louder and clearer this time and you took this as a hint to get the fuck out of his car.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby, I'll see you at work tomorrow," hurriedly you got out of the car and before Tommy could utter another word, you ran down the side of the apartment towards the side staircase that led to your first floor apartment.

Tommy kept watching as you saw you cash up the flight of stairs, struggling to fish out your bunch of house keys from your purse. He watched as you unlocked the front door and stepped in, hurriedly slamming the door shut.

He kept sitting in the car, and finally turned the ignition on.

"Fuck," he cursed as he turned the ignition off, pulled the car keys out and got out of the car. With big steps, he strode towards the side staircase, from where you had just ran up a few seconds back and reached your doorstep, bringing himself to ring the bell. He waited nervously, tapping the wall awkwardly with his fingers until you opened the door.

He pushed himself inside the minute you opened the door, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Why are you here?" You bit back on your words, trembling slightly. He could see that your eyes were red and puffy, and that you had been crying.

"Were you crying love?" He asked, trying to reach for you. He grabbed your wrists, pulling you towards him.

"You're insane," you whispered, your eyes planted to his lips, but you dared not look up and look into his eyes.

Gently, he let go of your wrist, and instead, placed his palm on the low of your back to hold you steady in his arms, "You love me." He rasped, in a low voice that caused your lips to part.

"Not right now I don't, Mr. Shelby," you spat at him, feeling your eyes start getting cloudy again. To be fair, you were feeling stupid, and embarassed at yourself, for reacting this way, showing him how weak and vulnerable you were, but you couldn't help it. You couldn't stop thinking of Tatiana and Tommy, and the more you did, the more angrier you got. You looked away.

"Look at me, love," Tommy chastised you, placing his hand on the base of your chin as he tried lifting your face up, but you dodged his hand and glared at him,"You're not my boss in here, Mr. Shelby. This is my house."

He gave you a tight lipped smile, and his palm reached out to cup your face, his fingers tracing the outline of your lips. He parted his lips, and fluttered his eyes close, letting an exhale out, before fluttering his blues open again, "this fire within you will be the fucking death of me someday, woman." You curled your lips slightly, licking the insides of your mouth and your nostrils flared, "Shouldn't you be with your business partner? Shagging the fuck out of her? You seem to be at the wrong apartment."

Tommy growled, pushing you to the wall; his knee coming to press against the wall, between the space of your legs. His hands fixed on either side of your head, barring you from escaping.

"Can you shut up for once in your life? I did not fuck Tatiana, ever, yeah?" He looked down into your eyes, and you glared into his, wondering if he was lying.

"You.. didn't?"

"I didn't. And I don't intend to, in the future," he said, in his low husky voice. You fluttered your eyes shut and slowly, like a doe, lifted your face so your lips were now in line with his. You parted your lips, waiting for him to kiss you. He took the hint, a ghost of a smirk forming against his lips as he brought the distance to a close, his plump lips pressing against yours as he kissed you by the wall, "now let's not talk of her now yeah? I would rather spend my night in your bed than stand out here, talking about a woman that doesn't interest me."

"then what interests you?" You smirked.

"You do. You interest me, love."

Your cheeks hurt and your eyes leaked water; tears of happiness flew openly from your eyes. You were dressed in a beautiful black evening gown and your son, Charlie, held your palm, his eyes everywhere but on his father as he walked up to the podium to where the microphone was.

You knelt down gracefully, tickling your son lightly on his Adam's apple, and murmured, "Look, Charlie, your daddy is up there, would you look?"

"Dada!" Charlie babbled, and you hoisted him up and fixed him on your hip as your eyes met Tommy's and he gave you a nod, his eyes twinkling.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for coming. You see tonight, eh, is a very special night for me. And I am pleased to announce my endeavours first with you—" He found your eyes again, and you smiled at him, wondering what he was referring to. Ever since you found out you were pregnant with Charlie, two years back, you had decided to quit your job.

"I am pleased to announce [Y/N] and Charles Shelby Center for senior citizens," Tommy turned slightly so he could move out of the way and a huge projector began showing the architectural designs of a massive modern looking building on the screen.

Your heart swelled with pride as you watched your husband gracefully walk down the stairs. People came and greeted him, shaking hands with him, and he stopped momentarily to greet them back. You tickled Charlie's belly as you began striding towards where he was.

Tommy threw out his hand towards you and you gladly accepted, as he pulled you to his side, planting a quick kiss on Charlie's forehead. You lifted your neck up high and you and Tommy posed for a few pictures, and soon the cameras left you alone with him. He leaned closer to you and smiled, "Did you like it, love? I've been planning it since I saw you that day, four years back, helping out in the rain. You were beautiful. "

"You saw that, Tommy? Is that why you didn't even scold me for being late?" You gasped, and he smirked, nodding.

"No wonder I kept thinking that something was wrong with you, Mr. Shelby."

He suddenly turned around and his right arm came to rest on the low of your back as he pulled you to him. On one hip, you adjusted your son, who was now struggling to get into his daddy's arms; you placed your free hand on Tommy's chest and patted it before grabbing his tie, "If there was something bloody wrong with me, why would you still choose me as your husband and then gift me with a lovely boy?"

"Well, because, Mr. Shelby, I love you, and wouldn't trade our family for anything."

#modern! tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #ceo! tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders ceo au #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction

325 notes · View notes

lifewithdavefarts · 3 years

Photo

DaveFarts - Episode 1 “FartsApp” [Episode List] Since he’s a gassy nerd, Dave teases his friend Tim via WhatsApp by sending him a series of short videos of him farting.

FartsApp

Being gay with a fart fetish is really hard sometimes.

For me at least.

While the world is definitely getting more open-minded about homosexuality, I can’t really force it to accept this weird fetish (to be honest, all fetishes are kinda treated like taboos, regardless of the sexuality involved). I had to settle for YouTube videos or websites devoted to this whole fart-sniffing thing; not that I’m complaining: it was good to discover that so many people actually had this fetish.

Cue Dave. Well, sort of, actually. He doesn’t have a fart fetish and he’s not even gay. Dave has been my best friend since forever. Unlike me, however, he’s straight and is currently dating some (lucky) girl.

Around my age, he’s like a brother to me, and we’re actually well-known because of how much time we always spend with each other.

Dave is a great guy, a great friend, very open-minded and, dare to say it, actually quite hot.

Not surprisingly, being the brother I never had, he’s the first friend I came out to, the only one who knows about my homosexuality. Actually, it’s not like I told him… he found out on his own, in the worst possible way (for me).

During one of our nerdy game-nights, being “that one gassy friend”, Dave started to rip -as usual- tons of farts, fueled by some junk food, until he ripped one directly in my face (and boy it was amazing…). Everything went downhill from there… kinda. For some reason or another… he just accepted all at once not only my homosexuality, but also the fact that I found face-farting… hot. He just laughed about it and honestly gave me some encouraging words about my peculiar situation, proving that he’s indeed the best friend ever. Oh… and he also literally farted for me after that, in my face, letting me sniff and enjoy his amazing rips; he can also fart on command apparently: got a taste of his talent that same night.

That one, surreal night.

I still can’t believe it happened.

Felt like a confused dream. Like one of those nights where you drink too much so you don’t clearly remember what happened. But it was all true.

Dave, my best friend, was perfectly fine with me, my fetish, and all this weird stuff.

Yes: I know how lucky I am.

It’s been 4 months since he found out.

And, believe it or not, I’m getting face-farted so often that I’m almost forgetting how beautiful it feels.

Seriously: Dave simply accepted it like I’m living in someone’s crazy fetish dream and, when we’re alone, he just casually farts in my face (without me asking for it). Not always, but very often.

Surprisingly enough, despite the fact that my nose spends a lot of time brushing against his denim-covered butt, our friendship didn’t change at all though: we still hang out with the rest of our friends and generally spend a lot of time together.

Sometimes I’m so in disbelief about how easy-going he’s been with me, that I randomly ask him “You sure you’re OK with… this?” (I say, gesturing all of me), but he just smiles or rolls his eyes annoyed, tired of hearing the same question over and over again. What can I say? He’s perfectly comfortable with his own sexuality I guess, so he doesn’t have any problem with my fetish.

Sometimes though -sorry I say this- I kinda wish he did…

No, I’m definitely not complaining. That’s the best possible scenario for me, but sometimes he can get a bit too… inopportune. Dave is not really a prankster, but he loves teasing his friends, just for fun, including me.

I was in the middle of an important exam once, one of these pop-quiz thingies that make zero sense, and I felt my phone vibrate. I checked my FB private messages and all I saw was this YouTube link sent by Dave. Since I’m a fool apparently, I clicked on it, and one of those popular YouTube fart videos popped up and played, one with really loud farts. The first fart actually echoed in the room and other students glared at me: never felt so embarrassed (not including the night Dave found out about my fetish).

“Dude! Stop sending me this stuff!” I texted him. “I’m in the middle of an exam here!”

I scolded him for this, but the truth is that I couldn’t ask for a friend more open-minded than him.

The fact that he teases him with fart videos like he teases our heterosexual friends with those “shock” porn pics made me feel more… accepted.

But still… I was in the middle of an important exam so he had to stop.

And he obviously didn’t.

He sent me like 10 other links, just to annoy the sh%t out of me.

I mocked him by texting something like “Those videos are quite hard to find. Guess you’re gay too then!” but he would reply with “I had a great teacher!” and send me one of my awkward photos from Facebook.

Other times, since our friendship didn’t change a bit, he even made random references to my homosexuality or even my fart fetish when messaging me to make plans for the night (especially during the weekend). This mostly happens on WhatsApp:

Dave: “Dude, you have to come with us. Stop being a whiny little bi*ch and get up from that couch!”

Tim: “Sorry, man. I don’t think I’ll be joining you tonight…”

Dave: “You know what? If you don’t come with us… you’re gay!”

Dave: “Sorry, I mean… if you don’t come with us, you’re a fuc*ing heterosexual!

Dave: "U ride pussy, don’t you? Fuc*ing straight people!”

He was obviously being sarcastic, but I just loved how he adapted his… uhm… “humor” to my situation.

One time, however, things got a bit… hotter for me…

Dave: “Dude, come over. We have a lot to study…”

Tim: “Sorry, really can’t today. Aren’t you with Dana right now anyway?”

Dave: “I need somebody to focus with, not focus on. You know me and Dana always end up in bed after like 20 minutes.”

Dave: “It’s awesome but this stuff ain’t gonna study itself…”

Yep. Dave and his girlfriend Dana apparently had a very active sex life.

Glad he was getting laid. And Dana was pretty cool to be honest.

Tim: “Dave, sorry. Maybe tomorrow, k?”

Dave: “Dude! Come on! I’m farting like crazy today!”

Did… did he just try to “bribe” me using his farting abilities?

Dave: “Seriously. I just ripped one that was like 10 seconds long. What a waste of farts!”

Tim: “Dave… are you crazy?”

Took a couple of minutes to reply to that one, and then I got two messages at once.

Dave: “Oh yessss, Tim, crazy for youuuuuu!” he wrote, with a heart emoticon at the end (again, he’s a sassy bi*ch as usual).

I then saw that WhatsApp was loading a video sent by him, an actual video, not a link.

It was Dave, a smirk drawn on his face while staring at the camera. He was wearing a simple black shirt. The view soon moved and I saw his slightly sagging-butt in jeans sitting on a wooden chair, and then heard this big fart echoing in his living room (he was alone), rumbling loudly and hard on the wooden surface. He even turned the camera to his face while he was forcing the “classic”-sounding fart out, making funny facial expressions; indeed, the fart lasted almost 10 seconds, and I obviously loved that: biggest farts I’ve ever heard from him in awhile! It was like watching those funny fartvines on… well… Vine, but having my best friend as the funny/hot farter this time.

Dave: “Hope that convinced you…” he then texted.

I was kinda… “offended” by that last message.

I mean, yeah, I seriously wanted to be there, but I always love spending time with Dave, farts or not (that’s why we’ve been friends since… forever).

Tim: “Are you seriously using farts to buy my friendship? It’s not like I don’t want to study with you. I just can’t today!”

Was that too harsh? Should I have added a smiley face at the end?

Only thing I was sure of, is that I never thought that a sentence like that would even make sense someday.

And I was still bewildered by how Dave was so comfortable with the fact that I loved farts.

Tim: “You don’t need farts to convince me, Dave. More like… you’re making me suffer!” I joked, finally breaking the ice myself with a reference to my embarrassing fetish, proving that I indeed wanted to be there with him, enjoying those farts.

Another couple of minutes passed.

Was he making another…?

Dave: “I know you’re suffering, Tim. Don’t worry. That’s why I’m sending you this.”

Oh boy, another video. Should I play it? Was he aware that I was getting a boner from all of this?

I literally pitched a tent in my pants.

There… it’s Dave again, this time sitting on the couch. The video started with his face winking at the camera with a sly smile; the camera then moved between his legs and slowly panned towards his butt in loose jeans (he probably put his legs on the small table in front of his couch, to make his butt more visible). Now I had a rather unique (and hot -for me) view of both his butt (and part of his crotch) in jeans and his face. He grinned wildly and the fart began, ripped right in front of the phone. The sound and the views were perfect; Dave moved the camera towards his butt as the fart kept going strong, sounding like a deep trumpet; I could see the detailed blue fabric of his jeans as the funny sounds continued. What a lucky phone!

It lasted around 8 seconds and it was simply the hotness.

The video ended with Dave laughing at the camera and all went pitch black.

Tim: “You’re insane, Dave!” I joked again, enjoying how crazy he was about this. And for me I guess.

But I had to tell him.

Tim: “Dave, you do know that all of this gave me a… well…”

But as I was halfheartedly writing the second part of the message, Dave wrote more stuff.

Dave: “Then go beat your meat! I can’t do everything for you, Tim.”

Dave: “And please don’t act like this is some kind of big deal…

Dave: "Wow, Tim got a boner! How impressive!”

Dave: “Let’s all bow to Tim, the mighty guy whose penis can turn bigger!”

Dave: “Behold, the Great Tim! The guy who once had a boner and had to tell everyone!”

Further proof that Dave was being the best friend ever.

He was clearly being sarcastic; he was joking. That was his way of telling me “Nah bro, it’s all good”. And I was kinda surprised that he was so… chill about this stuff. I literally had a boner because of him and he just… didn’t care. As I said, he’s very open minded and perfectly comfortable with his own sexuality, so he didn’t have the irrational fear of “turning gay” when doing this stuff with and for me. I also appreciated that he trusted me with those funny, but otherwise embarrassing videos.

After one or two minutes, I’ve received one big audio file and I just knew what I was going to get when I clicked the triangular-shaped button to play them.

I heard Dave singing my name like he was some kind of serial killer trying to find me.

Dave: “Tim… come here…”

I then heard a series of muffled noises, as if the camera was being put under something, and it was clear what: I in fact then heard the loud, audio-glitching sound of one big fart that lasted around four seconds.

Dave: “He’s waiting for you…” he sung again in that creepy tone of voice.

Another fart, just as big as the first one.

He was on fire that day!

Now I was both laughing like an idiot and having the biggest boner.

Tim: “Dude, you’re on fire! But… to be honest, that was kinda gay…” I chuckled.

Dave: “Says the guy who gets a boner when he hears a fart. You fuc*ing hypocrite.”

He then sent yet another audio file, with him singing that meme-song “I’m gay, gay, gay, I love long big c*cks”, but slightly changing the lyrics. He even put a karaoke version of it on his computer while recording the audio file.

Dave: “You are gay, gay gay, you love long big farts. ‘cuz you’re supah-super gay, and you love big…”

Fittingly enough, a huge fart from my best friend took over the last part of the song. Loud as usual, sounding like a deep chainsaw. I could just imagine how beautiful that was. But the best part was probably the fact that he was definitely farting for me. I know, not your usual “hot sexy” scenario… more like a “sweet” one, in a very twisted way of course.

I wasn’t obviously offended by that “gay song”, since I knew that Dave was just being silly as usual and his mocking words were definitely not mean-spirited.

Tim: “Aren’t you supposed to be studying right now?” I asked.

Dave: “I don’t know, aren’t you supposed to be here right now?”

Tim: “Dude, seriously. Thank you! But I’m serious… I really can’t today.”

Dave: “Alright… alright… cya tonight faggot…” he wrote, with a heart-shaped emoticon at the end.

I just rolled my eyes and chuckled a bit, then drove my attention to my own books.

This was going to be a long afternoon. But after only one minute of silence, my phone vibrated wildly: it was Dave and he was calling me. Very unusual in that moment.

“Uhm… Dave? Hello?” I picked up.

I was greeted by a series of “Dude, sorry!” and I was really confused.

“Dave… what?”

It was just Dave being adorkable I guess.

“Dude, sorry about that 'faggot'… that was bit too much, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

I laughed in disbelief. “Bro, it’s OK. I’m not offended. I know you didn’t want to insult me or anything…”

“No, Tim. That one word is not a joke and I shouldn’t have used it, sorry.”

I was just… wow. Dave went from “dominant friendly farter” to “adorable/awkward confused puppy” in mere seconds. Further proof that I was the luckiest guy alive (fetish or not): Dave cared so much for me that he even apologized for the “f-word”, which admittedly is a very bad word for a guy like me. But this time it was coming from Dave, my best friend, a guy who cares so much about me that he would even “censor” his language just to avoid unfortunate implications.

Ironically enough, the roles were switched, and he was the one saying a rapid-fire series of “sorry!” this time.

“Dave, quit with the apologizing. You’re the best.” I chuckled. “We’re bros, that’s what we do: we insult each other!”

“Alright… you sure? Not going to use that word ever again though.”

“Dave… it’s OK. You’re the best.”

“OK… OK. See you tonight. Take care.”

And he hang up.

He just wanted to make sure that he didn’t accidentally offend me by calling me a “fag”.

I would have been, if it wasn’t coming from Dave.

But then again, he also said that he was going to kick in the face whoever dared to insult me.

And he said that before he found out the truth about me: he’s always been quite protective.

“Oh come on!” I shouted, almost annoyed, merely five minutes later, when I heard the phone vibrate one more time.

It was Dave. Again.

He sent another video.

I tried to scoff at it but I was obviously loving all of this instead.

He was lying on the couch, the camera focusing on his butt in jeans. I could see both his face and butt, at the same time. It was like he filmed the video imagining my POV when he farted in my face, and I absolutely enjoyed that.

“Alright, Tim… Sorry for calling you a faggot.” he spoke in a “comically” serious voice. He truly was “sorry”, but it was clear that he was trying not to laugh. “I’m really, really sorry, believe me.”

Keeping a straight face, he ripped an incredibly loud, deep fart at the camera. He didn’t bat an eye, blink or smile. He eventually lost it towards the end of that 6-seconds long blast. He chuckled a bit and then turned “serious” again.

“That was a sad fart… we’re both sorry.”

He then closed his eyes and made a funny face, signing in relief as he ripped another long fart, the lucky camera slowly panning towards the seams and textures of the blue denim covering his powerful sagging butt. It lasted almost 10 seconds: truly a fart master. And those weren’t even on command!

“Oh my…” I whispered, staring in awe at the amazing video.

“This one was on the house…” he chuckled, right before turning the phone to his butt one last time and ripping a short series of toots, grinning wildly, clearly forcing those smaller farts out just for me. And that was it.

My boner was definitely wet now as bits of that well-known white substance poured from the tip of of my “standing” dick, slightly dampening my boxers and pants. It was like a volcano going to explode. A volcano that, just like me, couldn’t take it anymore. I rushed to the bathroom and furiously beat my meat, almost strangling my rock-hard penis with a firm grip. I didn’t last much: I literally peed sperm, thinking of Dave’s farts. The best part is that I didn’t need to imagine anything: it was all real. I laughed in relief just as I felt my penis deflating like a balloon, after it vomited its white substance. It felt good, not “masturbation good”, like “life is good”. And it was.

My best friend, Dave, was this fantastic guy who, in his own, twisted way, was taking care of me, accepting me, making me comfortable with my fart fetish. A gassy, open-minded, mildly disgusting “bro” who only wanted to preserve our friendship.

And I couldn’t be happier.

End of Episode 1

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #gayfart #malefarts

65 notes · View notes

coeurdastronaute · 3 years

Text

Nerd 14

Previously on Nerd

There weren’t many things considered as decorations in the house on the corner of Inglewood Street. The old stone house, with its black shutters and manicured lawn hid behind a stately oak and the polished Porsche in the driveway, glowed as a beacon in the neighborhood, of perfection and wealthy modesty. Inside, it was less populated than one might expect, never fully lived-in, at least not to the casual observer.

Clarke moved her way down the stairs as she balanced the bag on her shoulder, fully prepared for work and then studying with her girlfriend on a fairly boring Saturday night. For the first time in a long time, she looked at the sparse frames of pictures of her family.

Unsure of what made her pause, she furrowed, pushing her eyebrows tightly together and leaning into the image of her mother and father on a random date when they were together in college. They were carefree and at some bar trivia night. Abby hugged Jake’s bicep and nearly hid in his shoulder as he leaned forward, other arm lifted to interject an answer. He was smiling wide despite his eagerness, the flash ricocheting off part of his large glasses. His hair was floppy and fully, swept to the side and neatly arranged, while Abby was brimming with life. Clarke loved the candid picture because sometimes she looked at it, and these were two people who had entire lives and experiences and she forgot that. They probably got butterflies like she did when Lexa smiled at her. They probably spent hours excitedly waiting to see the other.

In that picture, her mother wasn’t the person she was now, though both seemed insanely far away from Clarke. This college-aged person was alive, vibrant, in-love, awake, eager, and not cheating on her husband. The body language alone showed how much she adored him.

In that picture, her father was the funny, charming man she remembered, not the angry, frustrated man who was skin and bones, who couldn’t eat, who couldn’t swallow, who had difficulties moving most days and remembering his own daughter others. He was alive as well. He was the man everyone wanted to sit beside for some reason, for som inexplicable reason he had this… he had a spark that drew those to him like a moth to a flame, except he was that flame, and he shared his light eagerly with those around him.

Clarke relaxed her face after a few moments of looking and seeing and trying to find some kind of detail in that picture that would indicate that the couple in it would know what their life would like like two decades later. There wasn’t a single indication, and that terrified her.

“Did you finish you math?” her mother’s voice called from the hallway, hearing her daughter shift and move to look at the next picture without seeing her first.

“Yes.”

The next image was a very tiny Clarke on her father’s shoulders and her mother hugging his waist as they all stood beneath a redwood tree. They had hiking gear, shorts, sunglasses, hats and sunscreen. They were all smiling. They were a family.

“Did you email me that draft of your personal essay for applications?”

Clarke gave up perusing, no longer feeling the yearn for that family unit that was far away. She rolled her eyes and stomped her way down the steps to find her mother sorting through envelopes and mail.

“No.”

“Why not?” Abby didn’t look up as she flipped.

“Because I’m a junior, and I have five months before applications are due.”

“That’s no excuse not to be prepared. Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time chasing after some gir--”

“Who am I chasing after?” Clarke scoffed, crossing her arms and peering at her mother. “Do you mean helping Lexa on her submission for film school? Do you mean tennis practice? Do you mean working part time? Do you mean having a social life?”

“Considerate that you can help someone else get into college.”

“It’s going to take her months to edit, which I can’t-- I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

That did it. Clarke knew it would. Clarke new an overt expression of her own independence would trigger her mother. She knew arguing and not appearing to care about college would give her the satisfaction of a righteous fight. She wanted it. It’d been brewing for about a week and a half, ever since Clarke said she was going prom dress shopping without her. Ever since Clark forgot to tell her about spending the night camping with Lexa and the film crew while the powered through the project. Ever since Clarke didn't’ come home for dinner last Tuesday and then raved about Mrs. Woods’ garlic chicken. Tiny things Clarke did with spite because she didn’t know what else to do, because she couldn’t do anything else.

Abby’s nostrils flared and Clarke jutted her hip, shrugging to herself as she dug for her phone, ready to go to work and escape the house and the persistent smell of medical equipment and cleaner that haunted her until she was about two blocks from the house.

“I’ll be home around midnight.”

“Like hell you will. You’ll be home right after your shift.”

“No,” Clarke paused as she turned to leave. “I’m going over Lexa’s to study. We’re watching a Cary Grant movie.”

“You’re under the misconception that you get to make your own schedule and plans without asking permission. But that is not the case, Clarke.”

“I’ve been doing fine.”

“You’ve barely been home. Your father is--”

“Right there, in that room, asleep. I know this because I spent the morning with him. We made pancakes and played a game of cribbage. We talked about school and Lexa and I showed him pictures of the past week of my life. And I helped him with his meds because he’s having a bit of a flare. I told him I’d see him in the morning for omelettes because we’ve been watching cooking shows together and he wants to try the french style. I know exactly what is going on with my father.”

She hadn’t meant to, but her voice began to raise as she spoke. Clarke felt her fist shake. She felt her muscles tighten and her jaw clench. She was okay with being considered lazy and unmotivated, but to be accused of negligence was uncalled for, especially from someone like her mother.

“Don’t you raise your voice! You are greatly mistaken as to the nature of our relationship. I am your mother, and I am sick of your attitude, and your priorities not being your father and your family or your education.”

“Lexa has nothing to do with any of that. Are you just mad I’m dating a girl? Or that I don’t care what you think anymore?”

Slightly taken aback by her daughter, by her words, by her actions, by her entire demeanor over the past few months and frankly just sick of dealing with being the bad guy.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Abby shook her head.

“I could say the same thing.”

The two stared at each other before Clarke shook her head and adjusted her bag. She toyed with her keys in her pockets before checking her phone again.

“I’m going to be late for work. I’ll be back tonight.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Abby insisted again. “You’re grounded indefinitely.”

“Except I’m not,” Clarke sighed and shook her head. “I’m not because I don’t care anymore. I genuinely don’t.”

“You’re going to. Give me your keys and your phone.”

“No.”

“I’m not joking, Clarke. You’re going to need to readjust your priorities and attitude.”

“I think you should take your own advice,” Clarke insisted as she reached the front door. “Or are you too busy fucking Kane to realize that there is no more family here?”

With a satisfying slam, she yanked the door shut. The anger that was stationed in her shoulders dissipated with the noise and movement. Clarke stood there in the quiet of her perfect neighborhood, the flapping of the flag lazily moving in the spring breeze was all she heard at first. Then the birds came. Then a lawnmower started in the distance.

Clarke felt lighter than she’d felt in a long time. She also felt emptier than any other time in her life. It was officially the end, and now she had to deal with that because the anger and the hurt and the betrayal was all she’d had in her for what felt like months. It hadn’t made anything better, and it certainly ruined everything, but Clarke took some solace in the fact that now she could try to fill herself up with something else.

XXXXXXXXXX

The party at Bellamy Blake’s house was in full swing by the time Lexa made her way up the winding driveway and into the belly of the beast. She wasn’t sure how she ended up there exactly, except that her girlfriend texted and said to show up. That seemed to be enough of a reason, though Lexa wasn’t particularly prepared. They’d had plans. Quiet plans. Private plans. Movie plans.

And now Lexa was going to her girlfriend’s ex’s party.

She shoved her hands in her pockets as she moved through the crowd, clearly not getting the memo that jeans were not entirely good enough attire, and in fact she seemed to be extremely overdressed. Her eyes bugged slightly as she watched a girl from her physics class walk by in a very tiny, very teeny lime green bikini. Lexa became suddenly aware of the appeal of such things, as if she hadn’t noticed them before, but then MIchelle who sat diagonally in front of her third period looked like that and she gulped.

The music thumped loudly. The beats were rattling the walls and shaking the windows while the screams and giggles of her classmates sought to shatter glass. It wasn’t like the other parties she’d been to with Clarke. It wasn’t even like thrones Anya dragged her to when she visited. This was a night of debauchery and she hadn’t had time to prepare.

And as much as she saw everyone else wearing bikinis, she hadn’t thought about Clarke wearing one. She’d seen Clarke’s boobs before. That was nice. But there was something to her girlfriend in a bikini that was… good. Very good, even.

Lexa pushed her glasses up slightly on her nose and stared.

“What are you doing here?” Gus asked, approaching quietly. She didn’t move or say anything else, just stared from across the pool, the steam billowing upward to ward the sky while everyone seemed to glow blue and green and red, the lights alternating around them, the flames of the fire pits dancing to keep everyone warm. The warm glow of the lights inside were lost on the white-blue shade to the water.

“Lexa, focus,” he snapped his fingers in front of her face. “What are you doing here? Your sister would kill me if she knew you were at a Blake party.”

“How is it different than any other party?”

“It just is.”

“Because of the pool? I’ve been to pool parties.”

It hadn’t been since seventh grade and didn’t look like an episode of a CW show, but still, she’d been to a pool party with many of the same cast of characters that were currently on display. It was before puberty, but still.

“We need to get you home.”

“Clarke invited me.”

“It doesn’t matter. This isn’t your scene.”

“I can be in any scene. I’ve watched every John Hughes movie.”

“This is more of an episode of Euphoria than an 80s teen flick,” Gus sighed and took another swig from his cup. “And I fully believe you would fit in fine with Molly Ringwald.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Lexa nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

She took her eyes off of her girlfriend long enough to assure her friend that she was perfectly fine now. She was dating the head cheerleader. She’d been to parties and seen--

“Gus-- is that cocaine?”

“Okay, yeah, we have to get you out of here,” he shook his head and tossed his empty cup into a flowerbed.

“Is it really?” she asked, craning her neck as he pushed her forward. “I’ve never see that in real life before. People actually do that thing with the credit cards and dollar bills? Astounding. Where does one get cocaine?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“I’m not going to do it. I’m just curious.”

They only made it a few steps before the ran into a sopping body. A tall, muscular, tan, perfectly chiseled and dripping body. It was the body of an actual god. It was the body of the perfect specimen, with biceps and the long swimmer cuts that pointed firmly toward his… his-ness.

“Gus, long time, man. How you been?” Bellamy Blake grinned before slipping his cup in his teeth as he hugged the other football player.

“Not too bad. Heard you’re heading to Oregon in the fall?”

“Yeah, partial scholarship. We’ll see what happens,” he shrugged. “Staying close?”

“Yeah, St. Johns, about three hours away.”

“Full ride?”

“Yeah. I got offered half to OSU, but would rather not have to pay anything.”

“No, that’s smart.”

The whole time they spoke, Lexa watched Clarke’s ex intently. She frowned to herself and wondered how her girlfriend broke up with him. He was effortlessly cool. He was huge. He looked like he knew how to go down on a girl, and Lexa was still apprehensive. She wished she could fast forward in life until she was really good at sex.

She watched him grin and sip from his red cup, meeting her eyes curiously as Gus explained something about his college recruitment process.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met before. I’m Bellamy.”

He held out his hand. And though she didn’t want to do it, she sighed and shook his hand.

“Sorry, I should have introduced you. This is Lexa.”

“Lexa… Lexa…” He mulled.

“Anya Woods’ sister.”

“Wow, you’re Anya’s little sister?”

“Yeah.”

“How is she? I forgot she had a little sister. I remember her little brother died-- oh shit.”

“Yeah.”

“We were just heading out,” Gus interrupted.

“I was actually just going to go talk to Clarke.”

“Why would you--”

Before anything else could be said, before anything else could transpire between the two of them, before Gus had to interrupt again, Clarke appeared, launching herself into her girlfriend’s arms, wrapping her own around her neck, her body still slightly damp from the pool she must have just climbed out of during the awkward introduction.

“You’re here. I’m so happy,” Clarke hummed against Lexa’s warm neck. She buried herself there, suffocating herself happily, slightly tipsy.

“I told you I’d stop by.”

Clarke kissed her girlfriend’s neck. She leaned most of her body against her there and giggled, oblivious to the eyes, too drunk to care about anything else happening.

“I am have the worst day. Maybe the worst week. Maybe the worst year ever. No, wait. Definitely the worst year, and today I finally told my mom everything and then left. So Yeah. It’s been terrible. I got drunk.”

“Not the healthiest coping mechanism.”

“Not a bit,” Clarke grinned, agreeing eagerly and with a wide grin. She leaned forward and kissed her girlfriend despite her words.

“You can be healthy tomorrow,” Lexa offered. “You okay?”

“As okay as can be.”

There was some throat clearing that happened behind them, and Lexa felt a burning in her ears and chest at the display, unaccustomed to it all.

“So this is your new girlfriend?” Bellamy asked, looking at the pair.

“Lex, I suppose you’ve met my ex,” Clarke gestured.

“Kind of.”

“Is this party a little much?”

“If I remember correctly, this was exactly the kind of thing you liked. We went to many a party in our tenure,” Bellamy shrugged, lazily leaning against a counter. “Things changed since I left, I guess.”

“I enjoyed not thinking,” Clarke offered. “You were great for that.”

Gus and Lexa looked between the two and then at each other. She was almost certain she didn’t know what was happening, but that certainly, something was, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“You moved on quick, huh?”

“Hey, step back,” Gus interrupted as Bellamy took a single step. “This is Anya’s sister.”

“Woods?” he furrowed. “You’re dating Anya Woods’ kid sister?”

“Yup,” Clarke nodded.

“I heard she was--”

“Standing right here,” Gus finished.

Lexa felt Clarke’s hand move into her own and she smiled despite the fact that she was picking up a drunk girl at her college guy ex’s party. There was a lot in that sentence she wasn’t happy about, now that she thought about it.

“You ready to get out of here?” Lexa asked innocently, ignoring the rest.

“I think we still have a few more shots lined up, Clarke,” Bellamy smiled and Lexa understood the need to punch.

Noticeably torn, she looked at her girlfriend and back at her ex before realizing that she was actually drunk, and that wasn’t good. Lexa smiled softly and rubbed her girlfriend’s back. She kind of imagined how it must have felt to implode and take her mother down with her. Lexa remembered the feeling of telling her father she was gay and sad. Clarke’s implosion didn’t seem as successful as her own, and Lexa was more than happy to try to help in whatever way she could.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?”

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded quickly. “I’ll text my mom to let her know.”

“You’re seriously leaving?” The college football player and terrible ex scoffed. “The night is still young. It’s barely after eleven.”

“Thanks for getting me drunk, but I should probably go do something better.”

“Thanks for showing me around,” Lexa offered nodding her head slightly toward the host before he could argue. “Have a good night. I’ll see you on Monday, Gus.”

“Get home safe,” the linebacker warned.

Slightly dumbfounded, Bellamy Blake stood there, hands on his hips as he watched his ex weave through the crowd of people and disappear. As much s everything stayed the same, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling of change, and how averse he was to it.

XXXXXXXXXX

“Here, you can, uh,” Lexa quickly moved through her bedroom, leaving her girlfriend standing by the bed. “I have some old sweats if you want.”

Already, Clarke began taking off her pants, and Lexa quickly looked in the drawers of her dresser. She felt the tips of her ears burn slightly as she looked over her shoulder, her girlfriend slumping into the bed, pants lost to the floor.

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone to that party. I knew it,” Clarke sighed, rubbing her face with both hands to ride herself of the spinning. “But I didn’t care. I just wanted to… you know…”

“You had it out with your mom. You just anted to go far away. I get it.”

“Don’t be nice to me. I knew better than to go, especially to anything involving Bellamy Blake.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t care about any of it. Just has drinks. I should have called you or like done something else.”

“You’re allowed to want to take a night off from a giant secret after a huge fight. And you don’t need my permission,” Lexa reminded her girlfriend, offering an old shirt.

“It was stupid.”

“Do you feel better?”

Gingerly, Lexa tugged at Clarke’s shirt, pulling it over her head until she flopped back down on the bed, her hair fanning out against the pillow. Agitated at herself, at her clothe, at the unfathomable uncontrollability to the entirety of her life, Clarke growled to herself as she tugged off her bra, tossing it to the side and gracelessly pulling on the shirt Lexa offered.

“I don’t feel better at all.”

It was certainly a pout, and Lexa did her best to ignore it. Instead, she slicked off the light beside the bed, and slid between the sheets next to Clarke. Lexa laid there until Clarke turned to face her, until she placed her hand on her neck and cheek.

“I’m sorry you had to pick me up.”

“It’s okay,” Lexa whispered.

“It’s not. I’m not like this… I don’t mean to be… I mean--”

“It’s okay.”

Clarke leaned forward, shifting beneath the blankets until their knees were touching. She moved to only push the hair from Lexa’s forehead and she paused before kissing her lips. She tasted the warmth of the tequila there and she didn’t care. Lexa signed.

“Please don’t give up on me anytime soon,” Clarke murmured. Stunned from the kiss, Lexa blinked in the dark and shifted closer.

“I wouldn’t ever.”

“I know you wouldn’t. I just had to say it out loud.”

“Okay.”

Lexa was certain she was going to get another kiss, but instead, Clarke dug her forehead under her girlfriend’s chin and pressed their bodies together, hugging her tightly and disappearing, being overwhelmed, anchoring herself to a steady force. Lexa rubbed Clarke’s back for a few moments until she fell asleep, and then she allowed herself the option of sleep.

196 notes · View notes