#(why are they all tongues to the wind with this comeback it's giving me butterflies and not the belly kind) (so rude) (gna kiss it)

[vcrnons]

[wroteclassicaly]

May I Taste Your Sin

(Michael Langdon x Female Reader)

Pairings : Michael Langdon x Female Reader

Warnings : Language, smut, blood, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, blood play, & period sex.

A/N : This fic has been a loooong time coming! I’m sorry it’s taken me this long, but now that I have inspo I wanted get this out for y’all! The warnings are obviously self-explanatory, so skip this if you don’t like the contents it’s gonna contain! Michael Langdon eats human hearts, and he’s a demon, before anyone starts to fuss over this, lol. I’m sure menstrual cycles with his partner would be a dessert to him!

Enjoy! This one is pretty intense, so I’m nervous about it! I also have more installments with different characters coming in the next few days! :)

Check out where I first posted the teaser for this fic, and check out these period sex headcanons I wrote for Michael!

~*~

He keeps staring at you. You try to move about, do your tasks, even attempt conversation with people you’d tried so hard to avoid these past several years. Your abilities to function like the human being that you are, seemingly vanish whenever the tall honey blond is within your exhausted proximities. You aren’t sure if you’d like to let out the loudest echoing scream and see where it ends up in this place, or let your wildest carnal urges guide your hormones into a literal sticky situation. Or, at the very least, let yourself fantasize about seducing him in your own self-created version of reality.

You’ll have to settle on the latter, unfortunately. Pocketing the cream colored dish rag, you place the last row of finely printed novels on the book shelve. Your fingertips linger, attempting to find a portal through their leather cover tops. Your tongue slicks your parched lips, neck stretching to crack out the tension. You aren’t trying to do anything but stealing some relaxation, when a largely hot hand is pressing a knot-out in a knead on your shoulder - clasping, settling a risky purchase.

You don’t have to make an educated guess to know whose hand that belongs to. He practically spews out his control and ownership of this place every chance that he gets. Biting down a venomous sigh, you coerce yourself into a turn around - gathering an eyeful of Langdon’s fancy black vest. That’s not good enough for the King, apparently, as he fits his pointer finger underneath your chin in a tuck, thumb pressing against your jaw to tilt your gaze to his own.

“Did you forget your manners, Miss Y/L/N?”

The way his shining eyes are sizing your attention, captivating your unwillingness to comply to how Langdon makes you feel - it can’t be humanly possible, can it? There’s that possessive ache that begs you to launch ownership over him and his entire body. Why is everything so widely dramatic whenever he’s around? Is he just full of himself or is it something way more than you’re aware? A crackling parch winds its pathway around your throat, sealing your breath in.

Nothing comes from between your lips. You’re frozen solid, legs a weightless press. Each touch this... man brings upon your body is like a bass thump - pumping you towards his secretive rhythm. All you can do is sway with the beat. Langdon smirks coyly, his other hand resting behind his back in an idle grace.

Neither of you dare utter a word. However, Langdon is seemingly content in making you squirm and you try to focus on everything but his perfectly crafted jawline, and how eagerly you’d suck on it if asked. You swear you can hear your heartbeat galloping off, so strong that it can tear your heart right out of your chest along with it. His colorful eyes glance over you in a brief stamping sweep, lingering at your sore breasts and your waistline.

What is he even doing...?

“Excuse me, but Ms. Venable did not authorize any private conferences with the help.” A cold and steel - grasped voice chills your bones down, dusting your cheeks with a reddening humiliation.

You haven’t even so much as spoken to Langdon, yet it feels like you two have been clawing and scratching at each other all over this fucking outpost, riding one another until you can’t fathom walking upright. You still can’t speak, but Langdon takes care of that for you.

“Interesting, and did Ms. Venable give you permission to waltz in here when you weren’t requested or required, just to give a meaningless order?” Langdon is mildly amused in his question, his hand still paused on your chin, thumb now swiping in a tickling drop with his fingertip - along your jaw.

Ms. Mead looks comical in her brief attempt at forming a snappy comeback, only to go silent in defeat. You take this tension as your escape line - quickly edging from the sacred confines Langdon has built for you two, and you all but run out the door. You’re clutching your shirt collar, punching a two pounce path up the staircase and to the help’s quarters.

Chores now, panic later.

~*~

Five minutes. Five fucking minutes in this place that you’ve served without question, complaint, for nearly two years - is all you want. But as the heavy handed rasps of Mead’s knuckle bones beat on your bathroom door, you know that is a simple pipe dream. Her low voice is harsh with you, making your headache unfold into a full blown migraine. You shift uncomfortably, knees knocking together, thighs sore against the cool porcelain seat below you.

Langdon must’ve massively pissed her off... Good.

Your palms collect purchase to your cradle your face, your eyes glistening with tears, throat burning with frustration. It hurts too much to stand upright this time. Normally women would lose this in stressful situations. Add the apocalypse and barely eating, you’d peg it normal to receive nothing. However, your predicament is much worse, fucking you over once more.

Your body welcomes Mother Nature each month. Unpredictable, yet there. Heavy, excruciating. You could list on and on reasons that don’t amount to much. You’re stuck with a part of you that won’t ever come to fruition.

Not in your former life, especially not in this one. Another reminder that carries an award winning irony. Sighing, you peer down at the red dish rag you were given. Literally on the rag, what a joyous harmony. The elites of course, are given the tampons and pads.

You have to use scraps of fabric you’re forced to wash in the bathtub if you move too fast or sneeze. And on your heavy days when you haven’t the time to stop your duties to wash and air out the towels, things are much harder. At least before the apocalypse you had chocolate, feminine products, a warm shower to take your time in, movies to curl up with, and a place of your own to cry where no one could hear you. You sniffle, hormones locking down your heart.

Most recently the outpost had welcomed the cooperative leader Langdon. He had interviewed everyone but you, uninterested, only flustering you a few times. Him being here just makes your period a more unwelcome storm. This morning as you were passing him on the landing of the staircase, delivering the bath towels to elite rooms, he stared at you. Right into you, nostrils flaring, tongue rolling out to slick his plump lips, blue eyes darkening.

Then there was this afternoon. How could I forget...?

The encounters were over quicker than they took place. Still, his acknowledgment of you didn’t bring your interview, nor did it promise your application for the sanctuary he preaches about. Forcing your tears to bank, you stand with your dress skirt and apron held up, staring at the stained rag in your panties. You turn and flush the toilet, eating back around to the shock of your fucking life. There, just feet in the from the doorway, is Langdon in all his glory.

It makes you swallow harshly, stomach drawing off the butterflies that have grown claws. You feel winded. His ring covered fingers bring an object to your sights. A thinly wrapped stick. You don’t answer, you don’t move, you don’t protest him approaching until he’s directly in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You try, a mere whisper betraying your bravery.

“Helping you,” He answers simply, a heated slide crossing his mouth. You can practically taste him, damn near swaying forward.

You start to snap back into your senses, ready to cover your remembered modesty back up. He grasps your wrist, a hungry look soft in his features. “Will you let me?”

You’re shaking, body on fire at him touching you, you try to keep your legs from clenching, that want. You know what will occur if you let yourself. He is gentle with you, admiration clear. Why? You don’t understand this.

“You’re bleeding, I know.”

Jaw unhinged, you stand upright, his fingers still ghosting your skin. An unlucky movement on your part, the warmth spills from you and you look down between your thighs in horror at the red lines running down your legs, pattering against the floor. Langdon is breathing heavily, practically panting, stunning you once more. His other hand grips your cheek, thumb swiping your lip, eyes not breaking contact from yours.

“Do you know how good your cunt smells? Every pathetic person in this outpost is starving and you have the best meal between your fucking legs.”

When your silence stretches on, Michael nudges forward, careful with you. “May I feast?”

It’s all too much to handle. Having him talk to you, you speaking to him. And now this? How? You begin to grow dizzy, hands trembling as you try to pull your clothing back up. Langdon’s hands grip your wrists.

“Please don’t do that.”

You want to stun him incredulously, backhand him. None of that is happening, not even the urge. Instead, your want for him is magnifying beyond any feigned ignorance. Your tongue slides out across your lips, teeth biting down on your bottom lip in a brisk chew. Langdon hooks his middle finger between your teeth, releasing your lip and combing the blood across in a coppery gloss.

Your chest is startled, rising and falling in quivering quakes, ears hearing a static rush. Everything inside of you is alive and crying out in need to be sated. Langdon grips you around the waist, lowering his forehead to rest atop your own, his middle finger - still doused in your blood - slithers past his own lips, which close in a sticky suckle. A vibrating moan pummels his throat, causing a constricting swallow that showcases his Adam’s apple.

If I could only just lick that...

Langdon is sly and devilishly cunning to a fault - fast in his next movements. He presses a designer boot down over your skirts, successfully preventing them from being made up. “Leave them here for someone else.”

“I... I can’t. This is too much, Langdon —“ He chuckles at the formality.

“Since I can see your womanhood running from between your legs, I suppose it’s only fair that we skip some formalities, don’t you agree, Y/N?” Your eyes are probably wider than necessary - a cartoon like sight. He’s used your full name in an authoritative command, leaving no room for question. “And you may call me Michael.”

It’s all a little more frantic from this point. He gives the slightest of information, and you see your skirts and panties gliding across the floor in a winded push. Michael brings that wrapped item back into your eye-line. “We won’t be needing this for a while.”

“I didn’t say yes.” You try, swallowing a weak, whimpering stifle.

“But you didn’t say no, did you?” That shit eating grin. He has you and he is all too aware - elated to the brimming brimstone of hellfire you’re about to bestow upon yourself.

Your insides melt into the trenches of red hot, raw ravishment. Michael drops his left arm down, hand palming his hardening cock through black slacks, eyes encouraging you in a chained bind. “Let’s go and make a mess in my room.”

Now or never. No more of this, back to reality, maybe some place better. You’re spinning in a foiling encasement, precipice wide and open - hungry to pull you under. And you dive in, you let it all go. Michael looks satisfied, sharing something with himself that you don’t know... yet.

Taking Michael Langdon’s hand, you’re led into the unknown.

~*~

Langdon leads you down his own separate corridor, your free hand scolded for trying to hold yourself over your uniform.

“I want you to make a mess.” Michael says.

You hope that you’re not the one who will be paying the cost for your own said mess, or cleaning it up. If it’s up to Venable - you’ll be licking it, all the way to her high heeled boots.

Once inside the confines of Michael Langdon’s bedroom, you take the time to look around, enjoying the perks this situation is bringing. The room isn’t any different than what the purple elites get here, it is bordering on a more... lived in feel, which is ironic when you consider that Langdon hasn’t been here like everyone else has for the past three years.

Guess he’s just more comfortable? He does look like an English vampire half the time..

On that note, a particularly harsh cramp antagonizes your uterus, causing you to clench your abdomen, choking out a acidic slice. “Fucking demonic cramps.”

Michael - now clad in his all black ensemble, minus the overcoat - chortles, knotting his fingers together behind his back and strolls forward, wetting his lips as the firelight crackles a sparking soundtrack. “It’s ironic how you refer to it as “demonic”, when Satan really has nothing to do with this. I mean, it’s not on him that humanity failed their pitiful guidelines for sobering temptation. Wasn’t it your lord and savior that bestowed this curse upon you?” He finishes, giving a head tilt to your unhinged stun.

“Are you religious?” Is all you can come up with.

Michael sneers, looking slightly offended. It fades seconds later. “Depends on your definition of religious, and then there is what one believes in. But I guess you can say that I’m devoted to... a certain cause.”

“Were you this mysterious before the apocalypse, or is that why the cooperative gave you the job?” You try, a discomfort crackling at your inner thighs.

They’re probably smeared... And not just with blood.

“I bet you’re uncomfortable.” Michael teases, snapping his fingers at the fireplace. Did your eyes betray you, or did the flames flicker?

You want to give a snappy comeback, but it feels unwise. You nod like the sap that you are, nails biting your palms. Your heartbeat has begun to accelerate, a visible sight beneath your apron. Langdon guides himself to step in front of you, leather shoes drumming across the floor beneath. Every sound in this forsaken room is flowing through your eardrums - Michael’s scent on the tip of your tongue.

You need him. More than your body has to have the air that filters underneath this mausoleum. You’re so unsteady, eyes brimming with the smoking arousal, blocking common sense. Michael catches you as you collide with his chest, wrapping your fists into his vest. His blue irises are disappearing to a canyon of night sky - lavish black so sinful that it steals the breath from your lungs.

Drizzling off your tongue is a hesitation. “Won’t we get into trouble...? Venable -“ Those rough fingertips hold a softness that hushes your lips, denting.

“Can watch me with my face buried into your cunt. The humiliation will arouse her.” Michael answers in his own finish.

You aren’t sure why, but that grates your mouth into a sneaky grin, shared with Michael’s, sensing that slapping throb at his phrases. He pinches your chin, nuzzling your head to the side, his lips sloping a map across your neck. His towering physique backs you by knocking his knees into your thighs, delivering you to the edge of his bed. You drop like wild weights, looking towards the ceiling, trying to take a deep inhalation. Langdon crouches, pants rustling as they tighten around his temptingly thick thighs.

He tuts in a scold, chiding you furthermore. “You will watch what I’m getting ready to do to you! Is that clear, Y/N?”

You don’t answer fast enough, Michael’s hand wrapping around your throat, eyes burning hellfire through you - dusting your bones to ash. Your throat is wet with the clingy, unshed tears. Fuck, you have to be filled up until you’re hollowed out. Michael is languid in grace, hand toppling into your lap, joining his other.

“Take down your hair, Y/N.”

Like a puppet, you obey your new owner. Unwrapping the pointed bun, you shake your locks free, sighing in an eased tickle.

“What a good and obedient girl that you are. Those who obey, shall reap the riches.”

“Why are you doing this?” An ignorant question on your part.

“Because,” As if it’s the most simple answer in this broken world, Michael let’s his hands start to unbutton his vest, carelessly sending it, his attention not wavering off you in the slightest. “I’m hungry.”

A literal moan comes from you, making Langdon hiss through his through his milky white teeth. He resumes his former position, hovering.

“Spread.” Michael says, a quaint wonder adorning him, his palms sliding up and down your legs to feel you part them. The blood is mixing some fucked out potion with your creamy arousal for him, and he knows it, has it right into your tremble from the exposure.

Your skin is steaming in scrapes, responding so vulgarly to Michael, that he is hooking his wrists under your knees, bouncing the flesh into his awaiting hands, and claiming. He hoists your legs over his shoulders to arch you to his idea of perfection. You should be protesting, in a shambled shyness. That is gone, no place here. Michael let’s his nose rest in the crease of your thigh, crudely sniffing like some beast.

His sopping tongue finds a striking stroke along your ruby red, damp thigh.

Closer... He’s getting closer...

When you can’t feel that warm and snide air he possesses, you lock to load a question. Michael is shedding himself of his remaining clothing in a cocky crawl. His hair curtains his face as he sees you seek out his cock - thick and heavy, weighted and wet with pre-cum.

“Finish taking off your clothing.” You’ve never done something so fast in your years alive.

You have to admit, being so vulnerable like this - naked and bleeding, it has you buzzing.

Michael outstretches a veined forearm, the back of his rings swirling in desiring dances across your breasts. “Do these hurt?”

Your lashes are slicked in perspiring tears, the tired soreness harassing your chest. He has his truth. His trim form bows to you once more, placing your legs back where they belong. He knuckles a pressing push into your abdomen. “Bear down.”

It isn’t an accident this time, it’s not a discreet secrecy. Michael wants you this way. All of you. Finding a confidence, you give yourself a high and sink your fingers into his hair, toes tickling his shoulder blades in a forwarding nudge, doubling down on your muscles. That warmth spills out of you and Langdon takes you, tongue parting your swollen folds. He regulates his tongue in wet paints, licking and sucking everything you give him.

“Please—“ You’re already begging. It’s so fucking intense and intimate that you can’t formulate your own damned name.

“Are you really going to ask, or would you just like to feel good?” Michael vibrates, his mouth visible and shining crimson as he seeks you out between your slippery thighs.

It’s outright feral. His irises are coal black, blue lost in some combing canyon that’s crumbled around sin. His digits prod at your sensitive opening, being accepted moments later. His lips close over your clit, tongue slithering back and forth to assist his beckoning fingers. He gathers more from you - his purpose.

That quenched fold starts to seize you early on, your pattering breaths signaling the orgasm that is about to tear the screams from your fucking diaphragm. Michael’s hand smacks and rolls your swollen breast - permission granted. That’s all it takes and you’re falling back onto the mattress, back arching in a lined drag, pussy flattening against his mouth. He jerks you impossibly closer, your vision whiting out into dark spots. You tangle your fingers further into his luscious strands, holding, pulling.

In the midst of close recovery, Michael is plowing you with a short lived let down, his mouth leaving your pussy. You can’t complain, no time available, as his hips slot in a frazzled fit between your legs. His pelvis is tense, sheathed in sweat. His chest smashes your breasts, his hand reaching down to guide his cock inside you. You can’t speak, but cling tightly to his back. He growls a sound that you’ll never forget, the fire bursting behind him, flames licking the rocked cove that houses them.

His mouth is covered in your essence, your cunt bathing his dick with each violent thrust. It’s pouring in drenches, salty perspiration, pooling blood - both of you losing yourselves in the mess. Michael props himself up, digging into a dipping slam, meeting your mouth in an ending kiss. His hair tickles your shoulders, nose nudges your now blood caked mouth, and he gives the warning.

“Spill your fucking curse all over me!” And you come undone, glued to him in puzzled entrapment.

Your thighs are wrecked, his bedsheets useless, and then there’s Michael, who forces you to look at him and really see him. There’s only black in his eyes. You sputter a disbelief, bracing. His mouth parts, tongue flicks across to gather more, leveling off into his jagged movements. He swells inside your cunt, dousing your walls in his warm cum.

He doesn’t leave you, not even when it’s over. He simply takes you with him. You aren’t sure where you get the courage to speak - body shaking and shivering.

“What... Michael, who are you?”

He cups a hand over your cunt, rolling onto his side, keeping you held to him. He lightly blows away a pesky lock of your hair, then maneuvers another behind your ear.

“I’m the man who’s going to save your wretched existence.”

Tag list : @littledemondani @dark-mei-rose @fckinsupreme @angelicmichael @icylangdon @ritualmichael @sojournmichael @celestialrequiem @instinctsxbaby @infernwetrust @ferndolan @9layerdevilfoodcake @bloodcoatedeclipse @wormycircumstance @antichristsxbox @xavierplympton @xavierplymptons @ramona-thorns @lovelylangdonx @langdxn @codyarchives @dailylangdon @codyfernuk @langdonsjoyy @7-wonders @blakescoven @holylangdon @bitchchatter @suspiriva @taskmastter @kitty4860 @ladynuwanda @langdonsexual @sammythankyou

[writings-n-stuff]

High Tide (Jacob x Reader)

Pairing: Jacob Black (with long hair) x (gender neutral) Reader (who lives on the Quileute reservation)

Summary: After insisting that the reader’s childhood friend (and crush!), Jacob Black, could never charm her, Jacob proves he can sweep them off their feet. In doing so, he reveals his mutual feelings for his forever friend. 

Words: 2,857 words

Content Warnings: a couple swear words, fluff, reader wearing a dress

Note: The reader is written to be Indigenous, a member of the Quileute community. Please keep that in mind!

The beach waves tickled your feet in chilly, bubble-filled water as you watched the sun set in the distance. The tide was coming in at La Push Beach, and though the wind had been blowing heavily all day, you enjoyed the way that the frigid water felt on your skin. 

You spent almost the entire day out at the beach, sitting by yourself and just enjoying the crash of the waves, the smell of the water, the way the cloudy sun bathed everything in a soft, comforting warmth. Being so naturally warm, the slight frigidness of the water and wind was calming for you in a way that almost no one else on the reservation seemed to enjoy. Why would you choose to be cold, your parents remarked, when our community is alive with warmth? When we’ve protected ourselves against the Cold Ones for so long? To nearly everyone else, one overcast day was completely backwards.

Hair still damp and filled with sand already, you lie on your back as the water rolled up and around your body. The bubbles tickled your ears as the waves crept further up the beach. Soon you would have to depart; the tide was coming in, and your mother had made it abundantly clear that you needed to be ready by the time Billy and Jacob Black arrived for dinner. You had decided that sunset gave you a perfect amount of time to run back to your house, shower, and change clothes. You didn’t want to miss a moment with your closest friend.

You closed your eyes, smiled as your thoughts wandered towards Jacob. Long hair, chocolate brown eyes, and a smile to die for, Jacob Black had been the object of your affection since you were kids. Ever since you could remember, he was there: playing in the dirt, racing through the woods, roasting marshmallows, hearing the history of the reservation, passing notes in class. Jacob had been your friend since you could walk, the person you turned to when you scraped your knee or when your parents spent the night arguing. He was always there, a warm hand to hold, a carefully placed joke, and eyes that just seemed to get you.

Almost as long as you could remember being friends with Jacob, you had also been completely head over heels for him. Though his bear hugs, his warm smile and flirty, simmering comebacks been so clearly platonic, you still imagined his actions being rooted in something else. Something that was more delicate, and much deeper. 

“Better get out before you get swallowed up!”

You looked left, right, seeing only beach, water, and trees a little ways away. A laugh already building in your throat, you propped yourself up on your elbows and looked directly behind you. As expected, Jacob was walking towards you with a similar grin. Coming to stop right behind you, he lightly nudged your arm. “I’d still love to have dinner with my best friend,” he stated, crouching down so his face hovered directly above yours, “but I can’t do that if you were swept out to sea.” This close to him, you felt his body heat warm your wind-blown skin. His eyes were light and playful with a hint of something else. Something sizzling. 

Rolling your eyes, you pulled your knees into your body, preparing to stand. “I guess you bring up a good point.” You took your time swiping your arms and legs, getting some of the built up sand off your body, before pushing yourself up on your feet. Stretching your arms above your head, you let out a little yawn. “At least the ocean could sweep me off my feet.”

Hair blowing and curling in the wind, Jacob smirked handsomely as you prepared to walk towards your house. “You think I can’t sweep you off your feet, babe?” he joked, matching his step with yours.

You shrugged, exaggerating your doubtful expression. Your insides fluttered as he used the nickname you jokingly called each other, a secret joke that just stuck after one night of bashing cringey pet names. Though you initially hated the idea of calling someone “babe,” you quickly warmed up to it as Jacob began to use it when he tried his best to annoy you. Now, it only gave you butterflies and wishes that he’d feel the same. “I’m just saying you’ve never done it before, babe.”

The line of residential houses coming into sight, Jacob glanced at you, smiled, then started nodding, accepting his new challenge. “All right,” he said, acting out stretching his arms, warming up his muscles. “I promise, tonight I’m gonna blow you away,” he vowed, eyes staring right at you. There was an excitement there, one that released another round of fluttery feelings in your stomach. He stared at you with so much intensity that you felt a blush warming your cheeks already.

Walking you to your door, Jacob took your hand and squeezed for a moment. Stopping in front of you, his passionate gaze felt too intimate for the outside air. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand, and he moved your connected fingers to his chest, thin t-shirt tightly stretching over what you knew to be a sculpted body. “I’ll see you in a bit, babe,” he said sincerely, running his thumb over the back of your hand.

You were almost convinced that he was honest, almost. A little smile playing at the corner of his lips suggested his competitive strategy. Still, while you just wore a similar t-shirt-and-shorts outfit, you could have been wearing the most elegant gown with the way he stared at you. Or nothing at all, you thought darkly.

Getting more flustered by the second, you playfully punched his chest. “Yeah, whatever, babe,” you retorted, trying hard to diffuse the sudden emotional tension between you. Hiding your quickly warming face, you let go of his hand and quickly made towards your front door. Leaving no time for Jacob to reply, you shut the door behind you and made a beeline to the bathroom.

As you walked inside, Jacob chuckled after you. Why were you so damn cute? Your soft eyes in his mind, he mussed his free-flying hair, determined to make you realize how he felt for you. How he desperately wanted to sweep you off your feet, make you blush, make you laugh, make you want him. He wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t just the boy that launched spit balls at your bullies, but that he was the boy that covered your eyes during the scariest scenes of Monster House, the boy that invited you to stay with him when your parents went out of town for two weeks, the boy that slept on your floor when you had called him, sobbing incoherently. The boy that also stayed home when you were sick, kissed your forehead, wiped cold towels over your cheeks and arms until your fever broke in the middle of the night. He was there, and he wanted to stay.

- - - - - 

Rinsing conditioner from your hair, you thought deeply about Jacob’s sudden change in energy. It all happened so quickly: one moment he was all smiles, the next simmering with all kinds of tension. You couldn’t understand how easily it was for him to shift his mood, and how easily he could gain a reaction from you.

I am so pathetic, you thought, combing the last bits of sand from your hair. Jacob had done things like this before, proving that he could be just another boy that you could crush on instead of his lifelong friend. You fell for it every time. You were just glad to be graced with a sly tongue and a quick mind that could play it off... most of the time.

Turning off the water, you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel. What could he possibly try tonight? Especially when parents were around? Jacob would no doubt let Billy in on the plan, asking him to insist that “the kids have their kid time,” allowing you both to retreat to the backyard or your room or really any setting in which you were alone. This would give Jacob the freedom to truly try anything he could to reduce you to an anxious, romantically confused mess. 

Yes, tonight was going to be interesting for sure

- - - - - 

Unsure about how this evening was going to go, you lingered in your room for a while until your mother impatiently knocked on your door, informing you that Billy and Jacob had arrived. “Come on, honey,” she said, “come greet them! I know Jacob’s excited to see you.”

Frowning one last time in your mirror, you trudged out of your room and into the dining room, where your parents, Jacob, and Billy greeted you warmly. Jacob especially smiled, tilting his head a bit and eyeing the dress you chose to wear, the only piece of clothing which you felt could charm the pants off Jacob back. Stepping towards you, away from the adults’ discussion, he sighed, biting his upturned lip. “You look beautiful,” he beamed, shoving his hands shyly in the pockets of his Nice Jeans, one of his three button downs fitting across his shoulders nicely. Very nicely.

His hair was braided back, just a little more formal than the event called for, but you weren’t complaining. For some reason, a part of this meeting felt like some sort of date: the dressy clothes, the awkward compliments, the steady eye contact. “So do you,” you replied, rubbing the back of your neck, unsure of what to do.

Just as you expected, Billy insisted that the kids “have their kid time,” making you take paper plates loaded with food out to the backyard. You rolled your eyes as your mom raised her eyebrows at you, wanting to comment on Jacob’s change in attire. Somehow, she knew about Jacob’s crush on you and got overexcited whenever he did anything even remotely kind. You just shook your head at her and followed Jacob out to the back porch. 

Having missed Harry Clearwater’s homemade fish fry, the first minutes of your alone time was spent in the usual comfortable silence. Sitting shoulder to shoulder, you and Jacob ate heartily, practically shoveling bites of food into your mouths while you sat on the porch steps, plates balanced on your laps. Having grown up eating with Jacob, it seemed unnatural to even think about being any type of polite. However weird this situation was at the moment, you were still sitting next to your best friend. “This food is so fucking good.”

“When is it not?”

Soon, your eating slowed and the unfamiliar tension came back between you. Taking your plate and his, Jacob placed your dishes off to the side. As he turned back to focus on you, he let out a long, content sigh. “So, tell me about your day.”

The taste of the amazing fried fish still on your tongue, you looked up at the darkening sky. “Honestly? I spent the whole day at the beach,” you replied honestly, curling your toes as you remembered the cool sand on your feet and the saltwater in the air. “The entire day.”

Jacob listened intently, that deep, polite smile on his lips. “Any reason why?” He leaned back on his hands, one arm resting behind your torso, the first step towards an arm around your shoulder. The fish swam around in your gut. “What were you thinking about?”

A sudden burst of confidence, you met his intense gaze fearlessly. “The wind felt so freeing.” You shrugged, your fingers playing with the hem of your dress as you thought. “I don’t know, it all feels connected out by the water, more real. I...” you thought about how to verbalize your day, “I think my memories feel like they make sense out by the sea.” You broke eye contact, chuckling nervously at your sincerity. “It’s kind of silly,” you retreated, already embarrassed to share something so deep. 

Jacob shook his head, expression hanging onto each word. He leaned into you, your shoulder touching his side. As always, he knew exactly where your mind was. “No, I totally get it.” He looked out at the sky. “I kind of feel that way when I’m walking through the woods. Like everything that I am is finally a part of something greater, but that it truly always has been.” He sighed, eyes proving that he was out among the trees, shadows of the canopy’s leaves playing over his face, mulling over the Quileute tradition as he thought about his own journey. “It always seems complicated, but in those moments it all makes sense.”

You nodded, remembering your own collection of days thinking the same thing, resting your head on Jacob’s shoulder. Naturally, he wrapped his arm around you, thrilled to hold you close and smell your freshly conditioned hair. You sighed. “I just don’t want to forget how important this is to me,” you said softly, thinking about how many of your friends, people that you looked up to as a child, had moved away, choosing better jobs or better homes rather than staying within the reservation. Most of your current friends wanted to leave as soon as possible, go to college far away and find some well-paying arrangement. Jacob was one of the few people your age that truly wanted to stay on the reservation forever. Whenever you thought about it, your eyes stung with the possibility of tears. All those memories that you shared growing up could never compare to an expensive life outside of your home. 

You both continued to think, almost in each others’ minds as you subconsciously leaned closer together. Jacob ran a hand over your arm, his warmth electrifying, making your skin feel radiant, awakening somehow. You responded by placing a hand softly on his knee, squeezing lightly, feeling the years-old connection between the two of you. Stars began to shine in the sky, the inky blue settling into the night.

This felt so much more intimate than you had ever dreamed.

“What are you thinking about now?” Jacob asked huskily, breath fanning across your face. You looked up at him, almost startled at his smoldering gaze. He was in love with you. Your heartbeat roared in your ears, a flood of white noise blocking out everything but him. The way he traced circles into your side, his lips held slightly open, eyes half in memory and half caught in you, the realization that your forever friend was looking at you in this way filled you with relief as well as anxiety. When did this happen? you questioned yourself, And how long did I ignore it?

Silently telling yourself to kick up some courage, you carefully practiced your answer in your head once before responding with the honest truth. If you stuttered or tripped on your words, the perfect moment might slip away “I’m thinking about kissing you right now,” you said clearly, answering his question and asking your own. 

As you nervously waited for his reply, Jacob smiled with an incalculable emotion you had never seen so clearly before. “Me, too.” Taking one last breath together, you both seemed to lean in at once, mutually inviting each other’s kiss. 

Waves of emotion crashed around you, and settled in your mutual embrace. The little ball of anxiety that followed you whenever Jacob was around finally released. Filled with all that you had dreamed of and more, Jacob’s lips felt like pure fire meeting yours. Unimaginably soft, his lips moved slowly with yours, your actions mirroring each other’s and almost anticipating the other’s moves and flowing together. 

Fully embracing you, Jacob held you close, resting a hand on your jaw, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek carefully. Your own hands were on his chest, one at the base of his neck, the other curled over his fast-beating heart. You were sure your own heart was running a mile, so distracted by the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands on you, that you were forgetting to breathe. In your distracted state, a small part of you noticed that Jacob had forgotten to breathe, too. 

Just as your lips moved together, you both pulled away in the same moment. Holding each others’ faces in your hands, a tenderness that rarely graced your friendship was showing its full force, bubbling up between both of you. Though the sky was dark, you could swear only a pink and orange sky and puffy clouds surrounded you both. Still riding the high tide that your longest crush felt the same, you couldn’t wrap words around what you were feeling. 

Luckily Jacob found his footing first. Exhaling heavily, a smile radiant with pure love, he said, “I think you swept me off my feet.” He laughed to himself, giddy under your touch and your gaze.

You smiled in kind, kissed his cheek tenderly. “And you swept me off mine.”

[i-eat-bread-and-cry-on-the-floor]

y i k e s

@it-fandom-exchange 

Here’s my fic for the IT fandom exchange! This is for Julian, aka @sigmatauris. enjoy!! 

Stenbrough :) 

TW: Mention of suicide attempt 

Stanley pushed a mixtape that Richie made for him into his car stereo. The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert plays softly on the winding road to Ben Hanscom’s house for a Losers Club sleepover. The fiery sun rolls down the sky, painting a trail of pink on a pastel blue blanket. Barely-visible stars blink, sprinkles across the yellow sky. Stanley unrolled his window to hear the chirping crickets that no one else in all of Derry slowed down to listen to. 

At a stoplight, Stanley took a package of mint gum from the car’s cup holder. He unwrapped the flimsy strip of candy and folded it onto his tongue. Stanley checked his rear view mirror, keeping an eye on the full moon as it approached him. He was a good driver. He picked up the skill the day he got behind the wheel. He kept a rigid posture, hyper-aware every time a green light would flick on, gripping the wheel with both hands. 

On the other hand, Stan Uris’s best friend, Richie Tozier, was the exact opposite. Stan always made fun of him before they turned fifteen. (“I’m terrified to see you behind the wheel, Trashmouth, there’s gonna be a lot of lives lost!”) He’d joke. The two loved to joke. Richie and Stanley shot rebuttal after rebuttal, teasing each other whenever possible. In their teenage years of mood swings and raging testosterone, the reckless kids loved poking fun at one another. Their shield of an ego would protect them from such “love-filled” words. Stanley’s ego though, slowly crumbled, and his confidence too. He had to build a shield—a wall—out of something else. 

The Miranda Lambert song ended as Vienna by Billy Joel began. A smirk appeared on the lone driver’s face as the opening piano blinked through the speaker. 

“Slow down you crazy child. You’re so ambitious for a juvenile…” He hummed, moving his head to the rhythm. Not quite bopping or swaying, but a healthy middle ground, “Why are you still so afraid? Hmm…” 

Stanley let the crinkling piano and gentle vocals set around him as he subconsciously drove slower, reaching the Hanscoms’ neighborhood. He twisted the steering wheel, to prolong his drive. Stanley hated to stop in the middle of a song. Especially such a masterpiece as Vienna. His tires grazed the road until the song finished. He found his way to Ben’s house, nearing the song’s end. The same crinkling piano that opened the melody also closed it, prompting Stan to turn off the engine.

He noticed Barn Boy Mike Hanlon’s truck, similar to Richie’s pick-up in the driveway. He thought about Mike. He never understood the boy. Stan couldn’t resist rolling his eyes or making some passive aggressive comments sometimes, but Mike kept silent for minutes and more at a time. He reclined in the comfort of seeing his friends smile or share banter. Mike would blush under his dark skin at the sound of their laughter. Sometimes, Stan thought Mike Hanlon knew more about any of the Losers than the rest of them did. Other times, he prayed he didn’t. 

Stanley saw Beverly Marsh’s beat-up wagon of a car too. He got out of his car and went to examine the rusty thing. Beverly drove well. Her reflexes never failed her; she knew the moves of every driver around her; and she had the second most driving experience of the group, (first being Bill.) The thing was that she inherited the car from her dad after he stopped driving. The alcoholic got his license confiscated and left his car to Daddy’s Little Girl. Stanley bent to see a broken windshield wiper and examine the chipped paint. 

He assumed Eddie may already have arrived since the boy hated driving and lived within walking distance of Ben’s anyway. He finally decided to find out, hoping from Beverely’s car to the steps up to Ben’s front door. He knocked three times and stepped back, flexing up and down on his toes. Excitement ran through his veins whenever the Losers were about to meet up. 

“Hey!” Ben’s bright grin lifted his cheekbones. Ben was a chubby kid, but way more handsome than most of the fit kids at school. His hair always fell into the perfect place unlike anyone in the Bowers Gang. His eyes shone with gratitude. He looked like someone who should be in a toothpaste commercial, where at the end a little sparkle effect was added to his smile. 

“Ben, hey!” Stanley smiled back at his friend. Richie and Beverly both called Ben Hanscom “Ben Handsome” at some point behind his back. Beverly always loved plays on words. Ben once wrote Beverly a sloppy haiku entitled “January Embers.” Richie was the first person Beverly told about her crush on the golden-hearted boy, over a few cigarettes, a good month after the one-hit-wonder wrote: 

Your hair is winter fire 

January Embers 

My Heart burns there too

Their stuttering friend, Bill Denbrough, loved words as well. He wrote a lot in journals no one dared to read. Pencils don’t stutter, so when he wasn’t around the Losers, he built pages upon pages of expression. Bill had it bad for Beverly, but Ben Handsome got the girl first. Stan hated himself for being glad about it. 

Stan peaked inside, hearing a movie, some arguing, and bubbly laughter. 

“Come on in!” Ben pulled him inside. We’re watching Back to The Future. Kind of…” he trailed off, leading him to the living room. 

“All I’m saying is,” Eddie stubbornly argued, with sharp hand gestures to prove his point, “You can’t not have a backstory for a friendship! How the hell did Marty McFly and this stupid scientist guy meet? They clearly didn’t meet at school! Doc isn’t Marty’s dad or grandfather! You can’t just give us nothing!” Eddie stuck to his strict opinions on things.

“Eddie, it’s just a movie!” Beverly chuckled, crunching down on some popcorn. “Calm down.” 

Mike rolled his eyes with the widest grin on his face. As the rest of the Losers Club barely tolerated Eddie’s hard opinions, Mike enjoyed the supervised chaos. 

“That’s what I’m saying! It’s a shit movie!” Eddie leaned back on a dark blue pillow, against a white couch. 

“Woah, woah, we don’t talk shit about Back to The Future!” Stanley spoke up as he entered the living room. Ben smiled. 

“Maybe you don’t,” he shrugged, “I think the movie is trash!” he complained. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Beverly snatched the remote from the table and turned the TV off, earning three groans and one silent ‘thank you’ from her friends, “Who wants to play truth or dare?” Those groans were replaced with cheers. 

“Are we gonna wait for Richie and B-B-Bill?” Stan mocked Bill Denbrough’s stutter. He was only allowed to do so because they’ve been best friends since practically birth. He fumbled with the sleeve of his hoodie, sitting next to Eddie Kaspbrak. His lanky frame reclined against the leather piece of furniture. 

“I guess,” Ben shrugged, “I’ll download a truth or dare app in the meantime.” 

“We’re using an app?” Stanley laughed. 

Eddie jumped at his opportunity to insult his friend, “Well, you couldn’t use your brain. We all know the saying ‘can’t use what you don’t have.’” 

“That was a trash comeback,” Stan commented, fumbling with his Star of David necklace. He admired Eddie’s unwillingness to not chime in. 

“You’re a trash comeback!” the boy crossed his arms with raised eyebrows. 

Stanley furrowed his eyebrows, “What?” 

“FBI, open up!” Richie boomed, kicking at the door.

“We brought s-s-snacks!” Bill’s soft normal-pitched, stuttering voice chimed in. 

Ben marched to the door to welcome the conclusion of the group inside, “Hi!” Ben made way for the two, brushing his blond bangs from his eyes. 

“What’s up, Losers?” Richie stepped inside, pacing to the usual meeting spot; Ben’s living room. He dropped a shopping bag of snacks near the couch as the Losers crowded around it like starved wolves in a pack. Really, that’s what they were; a pack. 

“We were just about to play some truth or dare,” Mike informed, “For recap, Eddie’s been bashing on every little detail of Back to The Future and Stanley is a trash comeback.” 

“That doesn’t even make sense.” Stanley scoffed. 

“He’s also in love with Bill,” Mike added, making Stanley’s eyes go wide. “What are your sources? Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?” This was one of those moments he severely hoped Mike didn’t know Stanley more than he knew himself. Truly, Stan didn’t know himself at all. He lost it somewhere in his mind and figured he may find it later. Perhaps, like an innovator digging through a dumpster, trying to find parts and pieces, he’d create something; bring it to life one day. 

“You’re the Jewish one,” Richie poked Stanley’s shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be, like, mad intelligent?” 

“Just mad.” Stan rolled his eyes. 

The one thing he knew for sure about himself was that he had his secret which was the fact that Mr. Uris had no interest in women. He liked Bill as more than a friend since they were fourteen years old. The Losers were sixteen and seventeen now and he couldn’t kill the butterflies in his stomach when Stuttering Bill’s lips curled into a smile. 

“The app’s downloaded if you guys are ready to play,” Ben held up his phone, showcasing the title screen of the application. 

“I’m ready!” Beverly excitedly raised her hand. 

“Me t-too,” Bill’s gentle voice followed Bev’s sharp one. The rest of the group ad-libbed ‘yes’s and ‘ready’s. 

Ben has a very nice house. Marble floors matching the marble island in his kitchen, a nice white couch with navy pillows to go with the white walls, accented with dark blue trim. He had a wood-and-glass coffee table too, separating the couch and the TV. It was comfy. 

Ben shooed everyone into the office, closed away from the living room with white french doors. There was a desk in the back of the room and shelves with books and comics and journals, displayed along the walls. The well-lit room had a shaggy carpet on top of the cold floor.

The Losers gradually made their way into a circle. Counter-clockwise, starting by the back of the room was Ben, then Beverly, then Eddie, then Richie, then Stan, then Bill, then Mike, then back to Ben. 

“Alright,” Ben started, looking at Beverly, “Miss Marsh, Truth or Dare?” 

“Dare!” her eyes glowed. The brave girl, far more chivalrous than any of the “men” in the room, loved adventures and thrills. Stanley insisted they call him a ‘man’ because of his bar mitzvah that barely happened. Bill and Mike were the real men of the house, but they both tied with Beverly even at that. The ‘dare’ part of truth or dare was a piece of cake.

Ben clicked the ‘dare’ button, “I dare you to put ice cubes down your shirt and leave them there until they melt,” he read with an amused expression. 

“Son of a bitch,” Beverly heaved herself up, the key on her necklace jingling. She opened the door, “How many should I get?” 

“Just grab a cup and we’ll see what happens,” Ben answered, offering a smile toward her, picking at the fabric of his hoodie. Beverly nodded and went off. 

“A whole cup?” Eddie’s eyes went wide. 

“Yes sir,” Ben nodded. Ben was not at all the evil type, even in truth or dare. The Losers dubbed him the ‘sweetheart.’ As long as everyone was safe and comfortable though, he enjoyed a bit of excitement, just like Mike did. Mike supervised all the shenanigans the group got into. Unlike him, Ben had no control over what happened. He liked to dip his toes into the pool of chaos nonetheless. 

Beverly arrived back, a full cup, shaking with ice cubes. She smiled and held one of the frozen squares to showcase it for the group, “There’s at least fifteen in here.” 

The Losers waited in anticipation and Beverly sighed. Her overalls would certainly keep the cubes in place. She slid the ice down the back of her shirt with a wince, “One.” 

She counted out the rest, managing to keep her breathing steady as the sharp temperature nipped at her back. 

“N-No one a-asked you to do a-a-all sixteen,” Bill reminded, an amused grin on his face. 

“That was the dare!” She shivered. 

“Actually,” Ben took a sharp inhale and showed the phone screen, “It never specified how many. It said ‘ice cubes’ in the plural, but could have just been referring to two.” This was a time that Beverly was not so much a fan of words. 

The red-headed Beverly deadpanned Bill and flipped him off. She had gorgeous red hair that used to hug her neck, but after cutting it short, it curled into the air around her as a pixie style. The only similarity was the color which matched the freckles sprinkled about her face and arms. 

“Why b-be mad at me? B-B-Ben’s the one who m-mmm-made you get a full cuh-cup!” Bill giggled, playing as if he were ‘oh, so offended.’ 

“I’m in so much discomfort,” she squirmed as she sat down, the ice numbing her lower back, “Okay, Eddie, truth or dare?” Ben passed on the phone after hitting ‘dare complete.’ Beverly earned one point for her troubles. 

“Truth,” he answered. 

“Pussy!” Richie taunted, “Just kidding, I love you, you fucking pussy-ass-coward.” Eddie huffed and looked to Beverly who now had Ben’s phone. 

“Who, out of the people in this room, is your least favorite?” she read with a smirk and curious eyes. 

“Richie,” he answered without a hesitation, making a grab for the phone. 

“Bitch, please, we all know you guys are gay for each other,” Stan called, receiving an exasperated blush from Eddie and a cackle from Richie. 

“That’s not true! I fucking hate him and his stupid face!” Eddie covered. 

Beverly kept the phone hostage, “I’ve got a better truth: Who do you have a crush on Eddie?” her direct eye contact intimidated the asthmatic. 

“I already answered a question!” he made another attempt for the phone, “That’s how the game works, you get one truth per turn!” 

“Nah-ah!” She pointed, “Come on…” 

“Richie’s, like, worse than Stan!” Eddie defended himself, “I wouldn’t date him if my life depended on it.” 

Ouch. Stanley thought, but found comfort in being on a higher ranking than Tozier. 

“Oh come on, I’m not so terrible!” Richie reasoned. “Are you saying you’d rather date Stan the Man Uris than this?” he posed, puckering his lips. 

“Gross, Rich.” Eddie’s nose turned up in disgust. “I’m not dating either of you.” he crossed his arms.

“Beep, beep, b-b-both of y-yyy-you.” Bill brushed his shoulder against Stanley. Something about it seemed non-accidental. 

“Richie, Truth or Dare?” Eddie turned to him. 

“I’m not on speaking terms with you,” Richie crossed his arms. 

“Oh, come on, I was kidding!” he admired Richie’s attempt to not burst into giggles. Eddie sighed and kissed Richie’s cheek, whispering a ‘no homo’ which received a wolf-whistle from Mike. “Truth or dare, you stupid bitch.” He took out a bottle of hand sanitizer from his fanny pack and applied it like a chapstick. 

“Dare,” the flustered and confused boy stated. 

Eddie took a second to click on the ‘dare’ button and read the task, “Ew, this one’s gross, I’m not reading it.” 

“What?” Richie whined. “I bet it’s fine!” he strived to take the phone. 

“You’re not licking the fucking floor, Richie.” Eddie snatched the phone away from Richie’s reach.

“Gross!” Beverly made vomiting noises. “Was that the dare?” she asked, earning a wrinkled nose and a nod from Eddie.

“Um?” Bill’s eyebrows furrowed, “Is n-no one paying at-t-tention to that k-kiss?”

“Just let ‘em do their thing,” Stan looked at Bill, wishing he could do the same to the blue-eyed boy. He’d imagined kissing Bill. He’d imagined holding his hand, cuddling, going on dates, pursuing a relationship, dancing, anything.  

“I f-fucking knew it!” Bill celebrated. Stanley couldn’t help but blush at the gleam in his crush’s eyes.

“It’s okay, guys, he said ‘no homo,’” Richie put his hands up in innocence. He thought for a second about the dare. “I’ll lick the floor though.” he shrugged.

“I can’t believe I’d rather watch you--” Eddie read off a new dare, “--Twerking for 60 seconds to a song of the group’s choosing.” 

“Please for the love of God do Please Don’t Go Girl!” Ben cackled, having the song stuck in his head all day.

“No!” Bev whined, “Babe, that’s our song! I don’t want to be dancing with you one night and end up thinking of Richie’s ass.” 

Stanley could only be jealous. Not because he wanted to dance with Beverly or Ben, but because he wanted someone to dance with. He looked over at his crush, envisioning Bill’s hands on Stanley’s hips and Stanley’s on Bill’s shoulders. 

“You’re right, you’re very right.” Ben nodded. “I vote You Got It then.” 

“Ben, no one wants to twerk to your New Kids in The Block trash.” Richie urged, pushing his glasses higher onto his nose. 

Ben pouted, whispering a correction, “It’s On The Block. Not In.”

“Whatever.” Richie said. “Can I please do Crazy Frog?” 

“Why don’t we pick something nice like Frank Sinatra?” Mike suggested ignoring Richie’s proposal. 

“Crazy Frog it is!” Eddie decided, cueing up music on his own phone. 

Beverly bopped her head, trying to hype Eddie into doing the same next to her. He just laughed along with her refusing to dance. Mike made another wolf-whistle as Richie twerked--poorly. Bill pretended to slide dollar bills off his hands at Richie. “Yeah! That’s my be-be-best f-friend!” He cheered.

Stanley admired how Bill encouraged him, even while doing a terrible job. He wouldn’t dare to be brave like Richie, but he hoped that if he was, Bill would be just as proud. Maybe even wear the same goofy smile. 

At the one minute mark, Eddie paused the music. “Who else is mentally scarred from that?” Five loser-hands all shot into the air. 

“Fuck you, fuck all of you.” Richie sat as the crowd booed him offstage. He failed to refrain from laughing. “Stanley, your turn.” he nudged him once Eddie handed him the phone. “Truth or dare?” 

He glanced in Bill’s direction, but decided not to fully look at Bill. “Dare.” he swallowed. 

“Ooh, unexpected!” Beverly grinned, spinning around to lay on her stomach. She put her elbows on the floor and her chin in her hands to observe. 

“Oh-ho-ho, you ain’t gonna believe this one, laddie!” Richie plastered an Australian, maybe slightly pirate-ish accent. “Feast yer eyes!” he shoved the screen in Stanley’s face causing the boy to squint and retract his head.

“Could you maybe like…” he brought the phone to a distance he could see. “What’s it s-ss-say?” Bill asked him. 

“Let the group go through your phone, sixty seconds each.” Stanley recited the line. “Easy, I guess, yeah.” he nodded. Off the top of his head, he couldn’t think of any embarrassing text messages or photos. Stanley was a clean kid. “Did you wanna go first?” he handed it off to Richie, “We can just go clockwise?” 

“You got it, chap!” Richie took the phone, “Which one of ye rascals’ll set up a time ticker for the gang?” he looked up. 

Mike pulled out his phone and went to the timer app, “I've got it. One minute is on the clock… and…” He glanced up to each member of the group. Everyone leaned forward in anticipation, “Go!” he initiated. 

“I’m going to the messages!” Richie declared and scrolled. The room erupted in instructions and suggestions, “Let’s see what Stanley is talking about with his dad…” Richie read a few messages out loud about handing in homework and test grades. He was doing relatively well in school, earning a congrats and a high five from Mike, across Bill’s torso. They studied sometimes together and both aced an English test no one else passed. 

Richie got bored of reminders about school and his dad asking about Torahs that would always go missing from Rabbi Uris’s office. (“Dad, why in the name of Baruch Atah Adonai would I take six Torahs and keep it a secret?”) He went to messages between him and Mike. “Why were you and Mike sending memes back and forth at three a.m.?”

“As opposed to nudes? No, thanks man.” Stan tilted his head. 

“I bet I’ll find some, somewhere here.” Richie laughed, reading three funny memes out loud before the timer rang. 

“Pass it on!” Eddie held out his hand. Eddie looked at the rest of the memes, saying most of them outloud. Laughter roared from the group. 

After Eddie spent his whole turn looking at Mike and Stan’s meme collection and Stanley calmed down a bit, he passed the phone to Beverly who passed it onto Ben. Ben passed on to Mike and Mike passed on to Bill. Stanley was almost completely calm by now. He was laughing along with the group. They made fun of Ben for sending Stanley drafts of poems that he wanted his friend to review before giving Beverly.

He had very little anxiety about them finding something personal since none of them yet came across something bad. He was just almost home free. 

“I’m guh-guh-guh-going into your sss-search histor-r-ry,” Bill declared. 

Richie cackled, “Why didn’t I think about that?” he huffed. Stanley’s eyes went wide, “What? No, that’s gotta be, like, illegal!” he reasoned. He was terrified of being outed. He knew he’d been doing research in the past week about if being gay was actually a bad thing. Gay quizzes, gay research, gay history, why gay? 

His mind raced: What if they hate me? What if they don’t want me around anymore? He loved being a loser because “you had nothing to lose” but he did. If he lost the losers, he truly did have nothing left but himself. That’s the thing he hated most. 

“So, you’re hi-hiding s-ss-s-something then?” he teased, looking to Bill to start the timer. 

“What would I be hiding?” Stan asked, before quickly adding: “Bill, don’t you dare, I’m actually begging you,” he could hear his heart pounding in his throat. What if Bill came across something terribly worse than Stanley imagined? The feeling sank in his stomach as his heart rose into his throat. 

“And I’m a-a-a-actually going into y-your ss-s-search history,” Bill rebutted, “Hey, if I f-f-find your wwweird p-porn, I won’t say it ah-ah-out loud.” The group laughed. Stan chuckled as his heart sank a little deeper, because he knew it would be far from pornography. 

“Fuck you, man,” Stan flipped him off

“F-fuck you!” Bill’s face scrunched up. 

“Sorry, I’m too busy fucking your mom!” Richie chimed in. He watched Eddie and Stan roll their eyes in unison. He saw Bill’s blue brown irises glowing almost white with the light of the phone.

“I w-w-won’t go into yyy-your search histor-r-y,” Bill bluffed. “Start the t-t-timer.” 

“Thanks.” 

“It just makes us all the more curious, Stanley,” Mike reminded him. He raised his eyebrow. Stanley did not like that gesture. 

“Yeah, well,” Stan brushed it off, looking at Bill. 

“Three, two, one!” Mike began the timer, officially. 

Bill typed his way into Stan’s history to silently be met with a few things. Stan glanced down at the phone. 

“Billiam, you bitch!” he reached for the phone. Bill deflected this turning his arm away. Stanley lunged at him but the boy dodged and stood up, reading out some searches, “From last night: Lots uh-uh-of reddit… Some songs… l-lll-lyrics… F-facebook… That’s a lot of s-s-swear words in Heb-b-brew.” his eyes widened.

“Stan, please!” Bill whisper-begged, an itching at his lungs brewed up. 

The Losers snickered along, all oblivious. Richie chanted “Fight! Fight! Fight!” as Stanley got on top of him to wrestle the phone away. 

“Bill,” Mike warned. He hated to see Stanley so panicked and used a stern voice, “Billy, hang on, I don’t think you should…” 

“H-how to t-t-tie a tie?” (“Stan you can’t tie a tie?”) Richie taunted Stanley from inches away. Bill was barely focused on the words, just Stan’s priceless yet genuinely desperate reactions.

“What is-” Bill’s voice shut down for a good second. He looked at Stanley’s, coughing once, then a few more times, almost clearly stalling. Can you overdose on melatonin? How many milligrams of melatonin can the brain handle? What is the suicide hotline number? Followed by other related searches to pull the tears from one's eyes and drain the color from one's face. They met eye contact, exchanging a thousand words before Beverly said,

“Bill? What is it?” she leaned forward, now more concerned than gossipy.

“I-I sh-shh-shhh-shouldn’t,” Bill turned Stanley’s phone off and returned it to him. He sighed. This brought some brief attention to the distressed boy. Stan’s throat tensed as if he were on the brink of vomiting. Gravity seemed to pull his chest together, tightening and tightening and tighter, and he was almost sure he’d close into himself if it continued. 

“What?” Eddie eyebrows furrowed, “What was on there?” he leaned his chin out at Stanley, the curiosity burning him up like one of the Bev’s cigarettes. 

Stanley put his hands up like a robber who’d just been caught with a bad, bad crime. As if a pack of police officers surrounding him all had guns, pointing shiny red lights at his vulnerable, unprotected chest. A light-headedness pressured him and his blood ran cold--Cold enough to re-freeze the ice in Beverly’s shirt.

“Bill?” Beverly sat upright, no longer relaxed on the floor, prompting his name, more as a search for a solution than a question. 

“I sh-shh-shouldn’t s-sa-say.” Bill stammered, much to Stanley’s delight. “P-p-per-per-p-personal.” 

The guns were still up, but this time, Bill was his bulletproof vest. Granted, he never tried on such a shield before, so he wasn’t sure how good it’d work, but he had something. 

“Is it something we should worry about?” Richie looked from Stan to Bill, indecisively. “Give us something, guys.”

Stanley shook his head with an instant, “No,” he answered, “Just personal.” 

Mike nodded, “And we respect that. Right guys?” he asked the group, as a pleasant reminder to lower their firearms and let the guilty man free.

Stanley gave both Mike and Bill separate thankful expressions. 

After a good minute of calming down, Bill still had the remains of thoughts flowing through his mind. Can you overdose on melatonin? What is the suicide hotline number? Can you overdose on melatonin? What is the suicide hotline number?

The group continued. Ben spilled the beans on how long it took for him to write January Embers and Bev gushed over him for the rest of the night. (“Babe, you spent a whole hour on seventeen syllables? That’s so cute!”) 

Bill tapped his nails on the floor. Stanley watched his anxious hand. “I’ll be right back,” Stanley stood up, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he was met with a few nods and ‘ok’s. He had been dared to chug a whole can of soda in one gulp so no one blamed him. After Stanley shut the office door, Bill propped up. 

“I’m gonna be right back too,” he got up and followed. Stanley turned around at hearing the door open. He typically would feel butterflies in his stomach and blush in Bill’s presence, but after Stanley’s dare, he couldn’t think of a person he wanted to see less. 

“Hi,” he waved, “What’s up?” he walked toward the bathroom, Bill following. 

“C-can we t-t-t-talk?” Bill proposed, searching Stanley’s posture for any clues of expression. Stan turned around to face him, making the job easier. 

“Sure…” he prayed it wouldn’t be about the searches, but he knew, somehow, that he’d run out of luck for the day, “About…?” 

“I’m s-s-sss-sorry for still guh-guh-going into your hi-h-h-hi-history when you were c-c-clearly upset ab-b-b-bout it,” he started, looking between Stanley’s right and left eye, unsure of which one to make eye contact with. “I d-d-didn’t think i-i-i-i-it’d be that ssss-s-serious, I juh-juh-juh-just thought th-that…” he searched for words he didn’t prepare before hand, “Well, I d-d-don’t know wuh-wuh-what I thought b-but I just d-d-d-didn’t really c-consider how you f-fe-fe-felt and I’m sorry.” 

“Stanley, it’s okay, it’s a game as far as everyone knows, right?” Stanley touched his shoulder. Bill was stressed to say the least. Thin balloons clustered in his mind, all filling up with helium and popping loudly at different times. All the colors of this loud, wild rainbow. He needed answers he was too scared to ask for. 

“I’m- Is th-th-th-there- D-d-d-do you really fff-f-fe-feel like you wuh-want to d-d-d-d…?” it took a good ten seconds of ‘d-d-d’ before Stanley realized he wouldn’t be able to finish. 

“I got help,” Stan cut him off, “It means the world that you care, but I promise I’ll be okay.” Bill shook his head. That just wouldn’t do. 

“F-f-from whom?” the boy demanded. 

“Uh- you know, just- people. You know?” he stammered. At least he wasn’t worse than Bill at this point.

“Th-that’s a l-lll-lie,” Bill pointed out, “St-Sta-Stanley, have you t-t-told your p-p-p-parents about this? You c-c-c-can’t- You have to g-guh-get help. A-actual help, like p-p-profff-fessional shit or m-mmm-m-medicine,” Bill told him. It was not a suggestion, but a fact.

“No, I don’t,” the words rolled off of Stanley’s tongue, with perfect diction, “I can just… promise real hard to be safe?” he suggested. “I wouldn’t break a promise to you.” he shook his head, tapping the scar on his hand from their blood oath. 

“Stan, p-p-please,” Bill decided on Stanley’s left eye to stare at, “You’ve guh-guh-got to t-t-tell your p-parents, or- or I will,” he threatened. 

Stanley shook his head, “Bill, for the love of God. Literal God. Please keep this a secret,” he begged him, his anxiety spiking once again. 

“We ca-ca-can’t keep this a sss-s-secret.” he spoke, slowly and calmly, though Bill Denbrough was anything but that. 

“Please, Bill!” he reasoned, “I’ll actually do anything at all. I swear. I don’t want my parents to worry. I don’t want them to know everything and then never leave me alone about it.” He breathed. “I don’t want them to treat me differently or treat me like I can’t be alone!” 

“I’m nnn-n-not taking no for an answer on this wuh-wuh-one,” Bill decided. Every plea Stanley made only pushed Bill to give in, but he knew better. The two of them were tense. Anxiety sparked between the two of them when all Stanley wanted was a spark of love, not tragedy. Each word tasted like gasoline. Stanley had a lighter. He could easily mix the two. 

“I’ll work on it on my own!” he put his pinky out, “I promise! I really promise. I swear, Bill. I swear on my life.” They shared a collective thought. “I swear on your life. I can do it on my own!” 

“Stan,” his tone lowered as something clicked in his mind, “You don’t have to do it on your own,” he abandoned his coercive method instead, and approached gently, “I ha-ha-have no idea what I would do if- if maybe one day I woke up and you didn’t. Or what if… I missed my chance to say that I really appreciate you. Or if I never got to go to the quarry with you. Or give you another hug. Or tell you all the- a-a-a-all th-thh-” he huffed as his stutter made an ugly return. 

“Bill, I promise, I’m okay, I promise,” Stanley repeated for him. He heard laughter from the group, but the joy from the closed off room did not seem to reach either of the teens. 

“N-n-no, juh-just-” He took a deep breath. “I n-need-” Another breath. A breath so clear and refreshing that Eddie Kaspbrak would be jealous. “Stanley, I need you to know that I love you. That… not just friendship. I guess. Like the real, romantic, I want to be near you all the time. I want to make you smile and I want to dance with you and take away all your pain until I can just see you smile, type of love. I want to write you poems like Ben does for Beverly. And even if that never happens, I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t know it.” Bill stared at Stanley, almost frozen. He couldn’t find it in him to move or speak to him. He listened. 

Stanley had been hit with something he never experienced before. His stomach turned and his mind fuzzed; those butterflies were back. His eyebrows furrowed, lip jaw just barely dropped, which turned into a smile. Time passed too quickly and he knew he was wasting time, standing still. 

“I- wow,” he raised his eyebrows. “Bill, can I give you a dare?” he swallowed, as Bill nodded. 

“I dare you to kiss me and then hug me for a really long time.” Stanley grinned.

Without hesitation, Bill slinked his hand onto Stanley’s jaw and collided his lips chapped with Stanley’s soft ones. Stan imagined if Mike saw, he’d do another one of his famous wolf-whistles. 

Stanley pulled away and smiled, “I feel the same way you do,” he whispered as Bill pulled him in again--not for a kiss, but for the promised hug, “I have for a while.” 

“Wuh-wuh-will you b-be my b-b-buh-buh-buh-boyf-friend?” Bill asked as his face lit up, unable to contain his excitement. The butterflies in his stomach were replaced with fireworks and a grin permanently planted on his face. 

Stanley hugged him tighter, burying his forehead in Bill’s neck. “Fuck yeah.”

Bill closed his eyes. He caressed Stanley’s back, exhaling a sigh of relief. He kissed Stanley’s head, not exactly aiming for a cheek or his temple, but just as his head was leaned on Bill’s shoulder. Bill rested his chin on Stanley’s shoulder. 

“C-c-cool,” a smile crept onto Bill’s face.

The sun had completely rolled down the sky, leaving a black blanket with silver, glittering dots and a big round moon that he could see from the window. For the first time in a while, the butterflies visited when Stan thought about staying alive. He reached for Bill’s hand hesitantly and cracked a slow grin. Bill looked at him and smiled, squeezing his hand back. Stanley searches his brain for the right words. He ended up whispering, “I appreciate you to an incredible extent.” 

Bill blushed and replied with, “I love you, too”

“I-” Stan’s face heated up at his inability to properly piece together the three fast words. He giggled and nodded.

Bill gazed at him, “D-d-don’t forget it,” he squeezed Stanley’s hand gently. “O-o-okay?” 

“I won’t. Same to you.” Stanley squeezed Bill’s hand in return with a proud smile. 

“Stan, y-y-you know we sss-s-still have to t-t-tell someone.” Bill raised his eyebrow, watching Stanley’s face fall to consideration. 

Stan almost wanted to protest. ‘No, we don’t.’ or ‘I told you, didn’t I?’ or ‘Why?’ or ‘Just give it a week on my own and we’ll figure it out after that.’ he thought about saying. Instead he looked at Bill’s face, longing for closure.

“I know.” he sighed. “Come over tomorrow and we can talk about details and all that, I guess?” he scratched the back of his neck. 

“I’ll b-b-be there.” Bill nodded, “I’m proud of y-you.” 

Stanley beamed, kissing Bill’s cheek again. Bill copied him, kissing Stanley’s cheek. Stanley’s face heated up, blossoming like bright red roses. He went to kiss Bill’s cheek again, but Bill matched his lips to Stanley’s and they shared a kiss. Stanley was exhilarated; overwhelmed with what he’d wanted for years. 

Richie stepped outside to check on the two, “Hey, what’s taking you so lo- oh.” The two pulled away from each other. “Reminds me of myself and Eddie’s mother last night.” 

“I am going to end your fucking life, Richie.” Stanley threatened. 

Richie put his hands up in innocence, “Just saying!” he went back into the office. Even through the closed doors, the couple heard: “Don’t bother them kids.” Richie’s Brooklyn accent “They’s suckin’ face and Eds here owes me five Washingtons.” 

Stanley and Bill chuckled. Stan smoothly put one more kiss on Bill’s cheek before, leading him back to the office. Their hands never unclasped. Stanley looked over to him as Bill opened the doors. The attention turned to the two. 

“Were you two actually kissing?” Eddie dropped his attention from his conversation with other Losers. “Cause I’m not paying Richie five dollars.” 

“Are you kidding? Denbrough was practically getting laid out there!” Richie answered, receiving five voices of laughter and one Jewish glare. (“Beep, beep, Richie.” “You g-g-guys put buh-buh-bets on us?”)

“Not getting laid, however, was getting a boyfriend,” Stanley corrected.

“Doubt it,” Eddie challenged, shrugging. “Not paying.” he shook his stubborn head. 

Bill glanced at Stanley, then kissed him on the lips for proof, catching the boy off guard. Stan almost fell over, before holding Bill’s waist and kissing back. “Whatttt!”s and “Woah!”s and Mike’s wolf whistle filled their office space. The two separated, grinning, sitting down in their original places. 

Mike looked at the two with an expression that could only be described as ‘I knew it.’ Eddie looked over at a smirking Richie. He knew as well. 

“I’m happy for you guys,” Ben smiled at the two. 

“Me too,” Beverly’s eyes shone with pride. 

“Th-th-thanks,” Bill answered for them with a smile, noticing Beverly and Ben holding hands. He whispered to Stanley, “C-c-come cuddle, let’s be a c-cuter cuh-cuh-couple then them.” 

Stanley giggled, leaning his head on Bill’s shoulder. “Thank you so much by the way.” he said, not exactly paying attention to the other Losers’ words. “You’re the best, Bill.”

[fiesta-freddie]

Call it what you want (pt.1)| Teddy Boy!John x reader

Request: Could you do a fic where the reader has known John Lennon all her life and they go to the same school and John kinda hangs around with a bad crowd who like to pick on the reader but they notice that John tends to not really join in then one day they want him to bully the reader or else type situation but at the last minute he chooses the reader over his so called friends. Hope this is ok.

Summary: The Teddy Boy gang. Nobody really likes them do they? Sure they’re all attractive and they could easily get any girl they want. But what happens when a one time run in turns into more than just that and a particular Teddy Boy starts falling for you? What if you feel the same way?

A/N: Okay! So first of all sorry I haven’t written in a while, I promise I’m trying though! Anyways I got this request and was stumped on how to write it so I asked my good friend @beatlevmania for some help! If it wasn’t for her this would probably still be in my ask box, so thank you Rory for your promts you absolute lifesaver! If you couldn’t already tell I decided to take some creative liberties with this one and that resulted in this being a three part series. I’ve been working really hard on it so I hope you enjoy it! Part three should be up in the next few days

Part 2

————

“See you Monday!” You called out to your friend as she walked the opposite direction. You then began making your way down the sidewalk, walking briskly through the cool autumn air listening to the sound of leaves crunching beneath your feet.

“Hey there sugar!” You heard a voice call out to you. You didn’t even need to look up, to know it was Paul and his gang of friends. You began to quicken your pace slightly, choosing to ignore their words. Maybe they’re talking to someone else you thought. What the hell, of course they’re talking to me, I’m the only one who’s stupid enough to be walking this way.

As you continued down the sidewalk, the sound of footsteps followed from behind you. You kept your focus on the ground, not wanting to look up, afraid of what might happen if you did. But before you even had a chance to make a getaway into the nearby alley you were stopped suddenly. The only thing that you could see were black, roughed up shoes, surrounding you. Trapped in a circle of Teddy Boys, great.

You still managed to keep your focus on the ground, intimidated by the boys around you, but not wanting to let it show. Your heart rate began to speed as you felt a pair of fingers being placed underneath your chin, lifting it so you were looking none other than Paul McCartney himself, in the eye.

Paul. The charmer. Devilishly handsome. The boy every girl wished they could have. The one every girl drooled over. You never quite understood what the other girls saw in him. Sure he was god looking, but his ego and snarky personality made you have a different approach to him then most others.

He slowly removed his fingers from under your chin as you made eye contact with him, caressing your check softly before giving you his signature smirk and a wink that somehow managed to make the other girls swoon over him. You scoffed at his actions, crossing your arms once he did so giving him a glare, showing how unpleased you were with him.

You took a quick glance around you. The other boys still stood around, causing you to have no escape. All the boys seemed to be focused on Paul and what he was doing, watching his every move and waiting to see what he would do next. Except one. Lennon. Aside from Paul, he was quite the ladies man himself. All the girls loved him and you would be lying if you said a little part of you didn’t either. But his attention wasn’t on Paul, it was on you. You weren’t exactly sure why, but you didn’t dare question it.

“What do you want McCartney?” You asked in a stern tone, hoping it would make you come off a bit more intimidating even though you were the one who was intimidated.

“Ah love, why’d ya have to say it like that? The only reason I stopped ya was because your a pretty bird and I couldn’t let you get away that easy, could I?”

You rolled your eyes in an annoyed manner and took a step closer to Paul, looking him directly in the eyes. “Listen McCartney, you may have every other girl wrapped around your finger but not me. I don’t find you charming in the slightest, got it? So take your little group of friends and go find another girl to bother.” You said, waving your hand around signaling for him to leave.

“A feisty one aren’t ya?” Paul said more than asked, stepping closer to you. His tall and slim figure towered over you only by a few inches. “Wouldn’t you say so John?” He questioned, looking over towards the other boy. John didn’t seem to be paying attention, he seemed as though his mind was wondering elsewhere. Nonetheless he still responded to Paul’s question, but lacked the frightening vibe that Paul was able to so easily give off. “Yeah she’s uh- she’s quite the feisty type, just how I like ‘em.” He said taking a step in, just as Paul had done. The other three boys followed the actions of Paul and John circling in closer, the space around you getting smaller.

“Well there Y/N, looks like you really don’t have anywhere to go then, do ya?” Paul said looking around the empty street. “Suppose you’ll have to come with us.” He said in a low tone.

Your heart skipped a beat. Paul and his gang were notorious for this kind of thing, considering it was much easier for him to pick up a girl, as they all fell so easily into his arms.

You needed a plan of action to get out the mess you were in and you needed it fast. I suppose I could give him a run for his money and kick him in the groin. You thought to yourself I need to get out of this somehow. I mean hell, whats the worst that could happen? He catches me and beats me to death?

Deciding to play along with his game, you leaned you slowly began to walk your two fingers up his chest. “You know what Paul, I’m sorry for the way I was acting” you said in an innocent tone, “maybe me going with you isn’t such a bad idea. I think we could have a lot of fun.” You said with a wink. His eyes grew noticeably wider and a smirk fell upon his face.

“I’d like that very much.”

Grabbing you by the waist, he pulled you in closer only inches away from your face. You rested your hands on his waist, still playing along. Having to stand slightly on your tiptoes, you reached up and ghosted your lips over his, running your tongue over his chap bottom lip before pulling away. He seemed to get a pleasure out of this as he hummed in response. “Quite the little teaser, aren’t ya?” You only batted your eyelashes and grinned in response.

You could hear the other boys behind you, talking among themselves about the scene happening in front of them.

Taking advantage of the fact you weren’t being circled anymore, you quickly brought up your leg and kneed Paul in his groin. He screeched out in pain at your actions. “FUCKING HELL!” His hands removed themselves from you, causing you to drop to the ground as he used them to cover his crotch out of pain. The other boys quickly turned their attention back to you and Paul, speechless at what had just happened.

They stood there like deer in headlights not knowing if they should help Paul or run after you. You however, wasted no time in deciding what to do. Quickly, you lifted yourself from the ground and began to book it down the sidewalk, looking behind you every few seconds to make sure you weren't being chased after by the other boys. Once you had managed to get yourself a safe distance away from the group of boys you stopped and watched them as they surrounded Paul, sitting him down on a nearby bench. What a drama queen. 

You noticed, however that one member of the gang wasn’t helping, but rather just standing there. Looking at you. Staring at you. Why? Squinting your eyes to get a better look at the mysterious figure, you soon realized it was none other than Lennon. Why was he staring at you? Shouldn't he have been helping Paul like the others were? You two stood many feet apart, gazing at each other. That is until Paul ruined the moment by yelling out to you. “Don’t think your getting away this easy Y/N!” You rolled you eyes at his words and yelled back to him, using your hands to cup them around your mouth, making sure they heard you. “I told you I’m not one of your groupies! Don’t try that on me again, McCartney!”

———

Days had passed since your run in with Paul and his gang of friends. You tried to avoid them at all costs, not wanting to have a repeat of Friday’s events.

Of course it was fairly easy to avoid them as they didn’t bother to pay any attention to you. Usually you spotted them chatting up another girl, making her swoon over them with their Teddy boy charm.

Maybe it was easy to avoid the rest of the group, but you always found your attention wandering back to one of the boys in particular. John.

You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the moment that had happened between you two Friday. Why did he stare at you the way he did? Why did your stomach flutter when he did? Every time you thought about it, you could feel your cheeks grow warm and your stomach filled with butterflies

You weren’t quite sure what, but something about him caused him to seem different than the rest. John was very quick witted for starters. He was always able to respond with a comeback of some sort, no matter the person.

Sure girls drooled over him too, he was very attractive. But he wasn’t like Paul. He wasn’t trying to get in girls pants whenever possible, he seemed as if he had respect for them. Something you didn’t think would ever come from a Teddy Boy.

More often than not, you found yourself staring at John. Gazing over in his direction even if you were only able to catch a glimpse of him for a second. You loved seeing his up-do of auburn hair blow in the autumn wind and his dark brown eyes light up whenever he laughed.

It went both ways. You weren’t the only one starting. Two or three times you had caught John looking over in your direction, but quickly turning his head away when you even so much as glanced at him.

Was it possible he liked you too?

————

Taglist:  @beatlevmania @givemequeen @wrongbea-tle @john-lemonade @ineedyoubygeorgeharrison @princesof-theuniverse @geostarr @katiekitty261

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

[writingwitchly]

Merry moaning milk morning

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Word count: 2k

You are spending Christmas Holiday at the Burrow, and everyhting is perfect — or it could be if you didn’t have a massive crush on George. Nobody is aware of it but Fred, and you know that he is the worst seecret keeper in the world. The point is, he has an idea in the back of his head.

It is Christmas holidays again, that time of the year that makes you feel so happy because – let’s be honest – what could possibly be better than waking up in your room on a cold winter morning to the smell of hot chocolate, home-baked mince pie, and cinnamon?

Well, waking up in Ginny’s room on a winter morning to the smell of Molly’s hot chocolate and home-baked mince pie and cinnamon is definitely better. The Weasleys are the best family you know, and sharing that special time of the year with them is just the best gift you could have hoped for.

While walking down the stairs on your way to the kitchen, you smile at the thought of how sweet it was from Ginny to invite you over. Despite the two years that separate you, you are excellent friends, and you are now quite used to frequent her house. Still, at first you had believed it was a crazy idea: because of her oldest brother’s marriage, the house was going to be crowded. However, when you met Fleur, Bill’s future wife, you understood why your redheaded friend begged you to come over. The French girl is really charming, no doubts on that, but she has earned the nickname of Phlegm from Ginny for something.

To be perfectly sincere, you had not accepted the invitation only for the sake of your friendship with the Weasley girl, or because you consider the Burrow the most agreeable house ever – even when it is over packed with people, like now. The reasons that pushed you to skip the annual meeting with your family to be instead hosted in Ottery St. Catchpole are a specific pair of kind brown eyes and flaming red hair, accompanied by a strong sweets scent and the most beautiful laugh you have ever heard.

You cannot not recall the exact time in which your crush for George Weasley struck you, but you surely know what sensations it involved in the past years. Every time you caught a glimpse of him, the wind was knocked out of you as if somebody had punched you in the ribs, and you felt quite dizzy because of the hundreds of butterflies that fluttered in your stomach. The situation got even worse if you had to talk in his presence: bright red cheeks, confused muttering, and rising panic. After some tries, you had given up and avoided opening your mouth whenever he was around, and there was a time when you wondered if he still remembered what your voice sounded like. Or if he actually cared.

But last year, when Ginny started referring to you as her friend and insisted on inviting you to spend time in the Burrow, you had pushed your anguish aside and tried to act normally. After all, you would not get any results by hiding every time the younger twin showed himself. The butterflies were still annoying you, but you had managed to exchange some words with him, and you have eventually become good friends. Still, sometimes you wish it was not so hard to look at him in the eyes without fainting.

“Hello Y/N dear,” greets you Molly when you step in the kitchen. “Will you help me with the breakfast please?”

Silently, you agree, because it is always a pleasure to help the plump and energetic mother of your friends to run her house. While pouring hot chocolate in the odd-looking mugs, you imagine yourself calling her more than that, and you quickly blush when you spot her smiling at you, hoping that she has not read your mind. 

“Fred! Come down here!” Molly’s voice echoes some moments later. Then, she tells you: “I need milk for the toffee pie, I’ll send him to get it in the village.”

You hear a horrendous amount of thuds that remembers you of running elephants, clearly meaning that both twins are coming down the stairs.

“No apparating today?” asks their mother after kissing them good morning. She seems relieved by it, though.

“We like to be unpredictable,” answers the older of the boys before turning to you. “Oh Georgie, look at who we have here, ickle Y/N.”

In two steps, he reaches you and messes your hair up. You are about to complain when he unexpectedly hugs you and whispers in your ear: “I’ve got some good news for you.” Then, after shooting a mischievous side glance at his brother, he stamps a loud kiss on your cheek and murmurs: “Georgie talks in his sleep.”

You don’t really understand the purpose of his behavior, nor why it is supposed to be a good news, but Fred is always up to weird pranks, so you decide to get his joke going, whatever it is.

“I’m delighted to hear that, Freddie.” you declare out loud. “It is such an important information. I don’t know how I managed to live without it.” And you ruffle his hair too. The boy lets escape a lighthearted laugh and throws you a you’ll get what I mean look before turning toward his mother.

Fred is the only person apart from you that knows about your crush. You had not told him, what a fool you would have been, he is the worst secret keeper in the world. He simply understood it when he saw that the always so cheerful and talkative Y/N turns to a stone in presence of his brother.

This thought causes you to look at George, and the irritating butterflies make a strong comeback. Feeling observed, he slowly turns his attention to you and flashes a smile that makes you forget to look away. When you finally pick up your senses, your mouth must be hanging open because he has started to laugh. That laugh, for Merlin’s sake.

“I need it now, I was talking about it with Y/N.”

Molly’s mention of your name drags you back to the reality, and you catch Fred’s wink of complicity from over her shoulder. Right, the milk. But what about that wink?

“I don’t feel really good, mom.” Pathetic. He is a pathetic liar. Any five-years-old would do better. “Can’t George go instead?”

Oh. That’s what the wink was about. You try to attract his eyes to plead him not to suggest you too, but he deliberately ignores you. That idiot. Going to the village is not such a big deal, but going with George is.

“And Y/N can go too, of course. So we make sure that Georgie won’t forget how to come back home.” And then he adds: “And to keep him warm.”

That. Huge. Idiot. You promise yourself to make his life impossible from now on, if you don’t die of shame during your trip to the town.

Suddenly, George grabs you by the arm and all your anger fades away – for now at least it is replaced by a rising burning sensation in your cheeks. The boy pulls you toward the door under the amused look of his brother. Molly has gone back to her cooking and you are grateful for that. You don’t know how she would react to your violent blush. It probably makes you look ill – more than Fred in any case.

“See you later, then.” George calls to his mother as you get your coat on.

“Ask him what he said last night!” shouts Fred from the kitchen, and the younger twin abruptly closes the door.

“So,” says George after a few minutes of walking. His usual expression of confidence is like a mask that prevents you to see what will come next. A plan for a prank? A joke? A… Actually, you don’t expect anything else from him, so what he says next surprises you. “What do you like most about Christmas?”

Obviously, the question was just to break the silence. With your hands stuck as far as you can in your coat’s pockets, you start to think of a fair answer that won’t make you sound like a fool or a three-years-old obsessed girl.

“Well, I guess I like the decorations, and the spirit. I would say the carols too, but I don’t share your mother’s passion for Celestina Warbeck.” A giggle interrupts you, but you decide to keep going. “The sweets also are important, and it’s a luck we have so much of them around here.” To this comment, the giggle becomes a laugh, that laugh that you love so much, the one that gives you goosebumps.

“The mistletoe…” you continue dreamily, trapped in the bubble that this laugh creates around you. “And being here, with you.”

The ringing laugh stops instantly, and you bite your tongue. Magic Merlin! What have you just said!

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t-I didn’t mean that. It was about… the whole family. And the mistletoe was not…” For Merlin’s beard, you are just making it worse. You better shut it now.

George stares at you in silence, and you watch him from the corner of your eyes. He’s so handsome, even when his dazzling smile is gone. You walk the next moments without saying a word, side by side, and you wish that the few feet that separate you could become nonexistent. You wish that he could silence you with a kiss, trap you in a hug that would prevent you to be so clumsy. Instead, the cold wind makes you shiver and it gives you the impression that your heart is going to freeze.

Suddenly, your redheaded companion comes to a halt, and he forces you to do the same by holding your hand. He is smiling. You shiver again.

“I was moaning your name.” he says in such a low voice that you barely hear him.

“So-sorry, what?” you ask hesitantly.

“Last night. I was moaning your name. That’s what Fred told me this morning.”

“You-you… You were saying my name in your sleep?”

“That’s what I just told you.”

You can’t believe it. Are you dreaming? Did you actually die of shame a few moments ago and you are now in paradise? George Weasley mentioned your name in his sleep?

“Hello? Are you still here?” his amused voice reaches your ears, allowing you to react to your numbness.

“I’m-Are you sure?”

Stupid. That was stupid to say. In fact, he starts to laugh even harder than before. And it’s a lighthearted laugh, the one you prefer.

“I am quite sure. It is very possible. Even when I am not asleep I like to talk about you, you know.” His expression softens, your heart skips a bit, and he rests his free hand on your right cheek. To this, your heart skips a fair amount of beats. “Now, are you sure that you did not mean the thing about the mistletoe and being here with… me?”

This is the most you can hold. You close your eyes before muttering an almost inaudible “I did,” hoping for the better. And the better happens.

George leans closer to you. Both his hands come to rest on your hips, and they pull you closer. He wraps his arms around your waist while yours rise by themselves to close around his neck. With your eyes still closed, you feel his lips softly brushing yours, so lightly that it feels like the touch of a snowflake.

The butterflies invade your belly, but he holds you so tight that you can’t quite feel them. His kiss becomes deeper, richer in sensations, and you completely abandon yourself to his embrace. You smell the sweets, you feel the silky flaming red hair under your fingers, and you know that this specific pair of kind brown eyes are just a few inches away from yours.

You wanted it.

You like it.

You want it more.

Just as you become more aware of your own body pressed to his, he pulls apart to allow your just your noses and forehead to touch, and he looks straight into your eyes.

“It’s a shame we don’t have a mistletoe,” he whispers. “They say it brings luck.”

“Can’t we figure about it later?” you ask in an innocent voice “It feels great this way too.”

He can’t help but smile, and so do you. The last thing you manage to think before succumbing again to his lips is how warm this cold winter morning feels.

[looselucy]

November

Of course I chose to exit my room at the exact moment that Zayn’s woman from the night before was sneaking out of his room. Of course that happened. I figured my life was one long, awkward, and exceedingly unfunny joke. “OOP!” I popped, nearly bumping into her. “Sorry.” “Sorry.” She returned.

She moved to the door and started tugging on the handle, making me stop my journey to the kitchen and watch her awkwardly trying to escape. The image in front of me was all too familiar living with Zayn... and Mike... and Tally, to be honest. “You need a key.” I told her awkwardly. “Brilliant.” She huffed sarcastically, spinning around to me. “Well will you give me a fucking key then?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes and laughing lightly, in shock that she had spoken to me like that, and my hangover was far too heavy to deal with it. “Maybe if you had some manners, babe.” I groaned impatiently. I continued down into the kitchen, ignoring her as she cursed at me. I needed a cup of tea. It was too early, I was too rough, and I was probably still in a foul mood thanks to how terribly the evening before had ended. I went to flick the kettle on, leaning against the counter, just waiting for her to follow me into the kitchen, which she soon did, huffing to herself as she took one step in. “C’mon.” She groaned. “I really want to get out of here before he wakes up.” “Say please...” I teased. “You’re such a bitch.” “Say please, and I’ll let you out.” I could tell she was strangling me in her mind, and it only fuelled me more as I stood smirking to myself, and by that point it was actually kind of curing my hangover, just a little, thanks to the fun I was having winding her up. Yeah, she was outrageously pretty, but that seemed to be as far as it stemmed. ”Please.” She eventually huffed. I laughed again and began walking back towards the hallway, bashing my shoulder against hers as we crossed paths and I sauntered into the hall. “I love manners, don’t you?” I beamed sarcastically. I could hear her mumbling some sort of profanities about me as I got to the door and unlocked it for her, swinging it open and curtsying her as she left, giving her the fakest smile I could possibly conjure as she exited, rolling her eyes at me one last time for good measure. As soon as she had even one foot out of the door I practically slammed it shut and went back into the kitchen, grateful as the kettle boiled and I began making myself the well-deserved cup of tea. I heard a door open in the hall, and I gripped my eyes shut, praying it wasn’t Harry. “Has she gone?” I felt so much relief hearing Zayn’s voice, turning around and giving him a tender smile, before returning back to my expert tea making. “Yeah. You want one?” I offered. “I’d kill for one.” He slugged over to me, rough as hell. “I wanted her number.” I grabbed a cup from our pile of cups, being the sharing kind we all were we just kept a stash of mugs for everyone to use, varying in sizes and designs. “You didn’t. I just had to deal with her, and trust me, she was an absolute nightmare.” “Never mind.” He leant next to me. “How ya feeling?” “Pretty poor, but been worse.” I chuckled. “How ‘bout you?” “Really bad. Massive comedown.” We heard another door opening, and I was definitely expecting it to be Harry that time. But, to both of our surprise, it was Ringo. Ringo had exited her room. Ringo was there. She was a rare sight. ”Hi.” She murmured shyly. “Y’alright, Ringo?” Zayn smirked. I swear he flirted with her every single time. Not that she wasn’t pretty, she was! She was very petite, miniature even, her cheeks were always a bright shade of pink, her face completely natural other than the septum piercing in her nose, cute mousey-brown hair. But it somehow felt as though he was trying to make her even more uncomfortable than she was around us all anyway. I wasn’t entirely sure that was his intention, but it certainly didn’t help the situation. Zayn was that type of person, he knew he could walk into a room and have every straight girl in there at his feet, and he loved it. Zayn literally aimed to leave a trail of broken hearts wherever he went. Ringo was just another part of that. “Mmhm.” She nodded awkwardly. “You want a brew?” I asked her, as friendly as possible. “No, thank you.” She squeaked. I always wanted to go the extra mile with Ringo. I wanted to be her friend, I really did. But she was literally the most withdrawn person I had ever met in my life, which to be honest, was not easy to live with. She had built up walls I wasn’t sure we could tear down, especially considering how rowdy the rest of us were. I realised then, I didn’t even know her last name, never mind if Ringo was her real name. I lived with the girl and I didn’t even know her damn last name. “What’s your last name?” I asked her. She was a little thrown by my question as she routed through her food cupboard, but she quickly answered. “Sparks.” ”Ringo Sparks?” Zayn chirped. “That is one of the coolest names I’ve ever heard.” Yet again, another door opened, and the third times a charm, because soon Harry sauntered unenthusiastically into the kitchen, butterfly tattoo on show, hair messy, tight skinny jeans still on from our previous evening. I also couldn’t avoid spotting the bruises on his knuckles. I cringed at the memory; cringed at the entire idea of him. “Mornin’.” He said glumly. “Harry, listen to this.” Zayn said as I finally finished the drinks. “Her name is Ringo Sparks.” Harry looked down to Ringo, a confused expression pushed upon his features. He then turned back to Zayn, whilst pointing a finger to her. “Is this the girl you shagged last night?” He quizzed. “No!” Zayn chuckled. “You live with this girl.” “Oh!” Harry baffled gleefully. “Cool name.” “Thanks.” She blushed. “And over here, we have Pippa Payne.” He grinned as he strolled my way. “Shame in her eyes thanks to her shit name.” I blew a raspberry to him, which within seconds was just entirely embarrassing, and everyone looked at me as if to say, as if that was your comeback, as if that was the best you could do. Even Ringo gave me that look. I passed Zayn the tea I’d made him, and finally turned fully around to stare at the room, Harry stood close to me whilst he filled his pint glass with water from the sink, Zayn on my left, and Ringo stood with her feet facing inwards in front of me. She had stuck around longer than she usually did. So I decided to try a little harder, since she was. “Ringo, me and Zayn are going to watch a film tonight in the theatre. You’re welcome to join us, if you want.” “Oh.” She simply fumbled. “Where?” Harry got himself involved. I didn’t reply to him, I just took a sip of my tea as a way to avoid it, even though it was boiling hot and I regretted the decision almost immediately. But thankfully, Zayn did speak for me, even though I wished Harry wasn’t getting himself involved in our plans. “They do a free screening of some really cool films every Sunday in the theatre on campus. We go as much as we can. Me, Pip, Tally, Mike and Grace.” “Who the fuck is Grace?” Harry snorted. “The girls whose room you stole!” I barked. “I didn’t steal it, Pip-Squeak. I didn’t even want to live here, anyway. And it got ten times worse the fucking second I met you.” Most the time it was like Harry was trying to wind me up, but then occasionally he would spit a comment like that, with so much truth, I was aware he disliked me, even hated me, just as much as I did him. And I also hated how uncomfortable it made Zayn, who genuinely was really getting on with young Harold. Things were beginning to get uncomfortable. Ringo scurried off into her room with a bag of crisps and not another word, leaving so it was just the three of us in the kitchen. I moved away from Harry with my warm cup of tea in hand, biting the burn on the tip of my tongue, and sitting myself down on the sofa. Harry and Zayn stayed propped against the kitchen counter. “How come you live here then?” Zayn had to ask. “I got kicked out of my old flat. Used to live in the same building as Louis.” Our flats were great, some of the best we could have been given, but I knew the halls Louis lived in were even better. They were bigger, a little more modern, actual en-suite showers as opposed to our communal ones. “I didn’t know you knew Louis!” Zayn chirped, always giddily fond of his course-mate. “No, I don’t. He just heard about what I did when I got kicked out.” Of course I was intrigued, but I refused to show any interest in Harry and his life, because I was stupidly stubborn, and I wanted nothing to do with him. No more than was needed to stay as sweet as possible with Zayn, anyway. “Why’d you get kicked out?” He couldn’t help but smirk. “I... got into a bit of a fight with someone who lived in my flat. It got out of hand, to be honest. Even though I was completely in the right. Obviously, my word against his.” I forced out a huff from my nose, rolling my eyes and taking another sip of tea, knowing from experience that Harry started fights for no reason whatsoever, and I was glad they kicked him out because he must have deserved it. All I needed was to figure out a way to get him kicked out of our flat. “What did he do?” Zayn continued his questions. ”Doesn’t matter. I don’t wanna talk about it. But he deserved everything he got.” Harry said firmly. I continued to scoff to myself, hoping to do it loud enough so he would hear me and know how little I thought of him, and that I had him completely figured out after I saw him hit that random guy the previous evening. Suddenly a vibration went off in my pocket, jiggling against my keys and taking me away from the situation as I weakly pulled the item from the depths of my dressing gown, my face completely dropping as soon as I saw who was finally getting in touch. “IT’S LIAM!” I screamed. “Why does she shout so much?” I tried to ignore Harry’s words. “IT’S FUCKING LIAM!” “He’s finally got in touch?” Zayn beamed on my behalf. “HE GOT IN TOUCH IT’S LIAM HOLY SHIT!” I answered as soon as I was done yelling, but then continued yelling, too excited. “LIAM! YOU’RE RINGING ME!” “I am.” I finally heard my brothers laugh again. I skipped off excitedly into my room, wanting a little privacy to finally speak to him. I hadn’t spoken to him for months, not really. We had managed to text one another every now and then, but he was traveling, so it was a struggle. I hadn’t actually heard his voice since long before I moved to university. He was making his way across the world. When he was strapped for cash he would live in hostels or grim hotels and work in bars and cafes or wherever he could, to save up a little, and then he would move again. I don’t think he missed home, but he missed his family. “HOW ARE YOU?” I yelled again. “Calm down, Pip!” “I can’t! I’m so happy, Liam. It’s so nice to hear your voice again! Where are you?” “In Peru at the minute. It’s amazing. How’s uni?” I could hear him smiling down the phone, happy to hear my voice as much as I was happy to hear his. We hadn’t always been close; when we were young we practically hated each other, like most siblings. I guess I only kind of caught on that I missed him when he went off to uni. I was only thirteen at the time, and looking back, it felt pretty young to have my brother taken away from me. I went through my teenage years without him ever really being around, and he, as an older brother, wasn’t there to look after me. We grew closer thanks to that, and now I was eighteen, and he was twenty-three, we were both older and so much closer. I wished we could have got closer whilst actually being around each other, but there was no denying he was one of my best friends. “Yeah, it’s alright. It’s a lot of drinking, and I’m not really the best drinker.” I sighed. “How’s the work side of it?” “Good. Not too hard yet.” “And the people? One of the greatest parts about uni is the people.” “Yeah, you’re right. The people are fantastic. Except one. Just had some guy move in with us because Grace moved out, and he’s a total knob-head.” “Well, that’s expected too. Look on the bright side though, in second year you won’t have to live with him.” “Very true. That’s exciting, I suppose. But honestly, how’s the traveling going? Do you miss me?” “It’s amazing. Honestly, I could do it forever. The only downside is missing you, and mum and dad, obviously. But yeah, kind of never want to come home.” Even though there was a part of me that was jealous of his lifestyle, I also knew that I probably couldn’t do it. I was extremely family-orientated, I didn’t want to go too long without my family around me, because even Liam being gone was a big strain on me. I wanted everything typical, marriage, babies, a home and a family. It was all I’d ever wanted. Traveling the world would have been fine, if I wasn’t completely desperate for all those things. “Fine, don’t.” I played. “Never liked you anyway.” “Yeah, yeah.” I could almost see him roll his eyes in my mind. I spoke on the phone to him for a good hour, only catching up for a small part of it before we started speaking and laughing about the most mundane things imaginable. But that was one the best things about me and Liam. We had been in each other’s lives, literally since the day I was born. I had so many memories and personal jokes with him, conversation easily flowed. It did make me realise how much I missed him, though. I found myself silently wishing he would come home. + + + They were showing Submarine at the cinema. I mean, that was good for me, mainly because Alex Turner wrote the soundtrack and he was my ultimate celebrity crush. But I was finding it hard to enjoy even that, when I had Harry Styles bobbing his leg up and down next to me. I mean, he must have been making the whole row of seats shake, I couldn’t possibly have been the only one who was getting frustrated by it. I glanced promptly to Mike, who was sat next to me, and he seemed unfazed. I then moved my head forward, to see Zayn and Tally who were next to Harry, and they too, seemed unfazed. I mentally cursed them all, damning them in my whirring head, then slumping back into my seat, making sure to give Harry the wickedest glare I could as I sunk back into my place. He noticed, shooting a confused, scowling stare to me, looking me up and down with disgust. God. I wondered why I had ended up sitting next to him. Everyone knew we hated each other, so why had it ended up like that? I was about ten seconds away from throwing a complete fit. “What?” He whispered foully. I placed my hand on his knee and forced his leg to come to a stop, holding it down with force, giving him a fake smile before continuing to watch the film, my false grin having been used much more frequently since he moved in on Wednesday. It hadn’t even been a week. Not even a week, and he was driving me insane. I steadily raised my hand back up, enjoying the still for a split second, before I spotted his evil little smirk, and he started bobbing it up and down again. “I hate you.” I whispered, my eyes on the screen. “Does this annoy you?” He leaned a little closer my way. “Everything you do annoys me.” ”SHH!” Someone behind us begged for my silence. I swear I was being relatively quiet. I turned around and glared into the crowd, unsure who had done that to me, but ready to fight whoever it was. “You need to work on the pitch of your voice.” He sniggered. He was always smirking. Always. Winding me up was a complete pleasure to him, because he was guaranteed to get a massive reaction from me. So that’s when I decided, to just stop reacting to him. To just shut up and let him do his thing, to try and remain calm and collected, even though that wasn’t a natural thing for me. I was always pretty dramatic, even I knew that. So I just ignored him. I could see his eyes watching me, soon becoming confused, just waiting for me to react to him, and I could tell how annoyed he was when I didn’t. He so desperately wanted a rise out of me, and I refused to give him one. I didn’t turn his way again for the remainder of the film. Not snapping at him, was going to be a difficult thing, but if it meant he calmed down a bit, I was more than willing to give it a try. Once it was over, we were all lazily walking out of the theatre, Zayn raving about the cinematography, and everyone else just kind of listening to his comments about it and trying to educate ourselves. He probably should have been studying film, no matter how good he was at art. It was literally a five-minute walk back to our flat, and we were all in pretty high spirits. I’d thankfully found myself as far away from Harry as physically possible without completely separating from the group. Mike sighed to himself, slinging his arm over my shoulder, standing at around 6’5, ridiculously tall. “I felt like that film was about me.” Woe spilled from him flamboyantly. “What?” Tally giggled. “My mum and dad have a fucking wreck of a marriage, and I fall in love with every girl I see. Literally all of them. Any girl without a second head and I’m like, yup, would probably marry her. I’m hopeless.” “My mum and dad have a wreck of a marriage too!” Tally giggled, okay with it. “My dad cheated on my mum, and she knows, just ignores it! Freaks me out.” “I think everyone’s mums and dad have wrecks they call marriages.” Harry joined it. “I think every single family is fucked up.” No one argued with him, even though I shot him the most disgusted look possibly to date, everyone seemed to agree with him. “Bullshit!” I had to cry. “My mum and dad have a great marriage! They’ve been together years and honestly, they’re so in love it makes me sick. I can’t wait to get married and have that.” I looked across the group, feeling a little uneasy. Zayn’s parents were divorced. Mike and Tally’s had horrible marriages, which had messed with their heads. I didn’t know about Harry’s parents, but judging from his ideas about marriage, his was probably a similar tale. “I can’t think of anything worse.” He continued to scowl. “I refuse to believe people can just be happily married and stay that way.” “Well you’re wrong!” I tutted. “Each to their own...” Zayn tried to lower the tension. “There’s more proof of my argument being correct than there is for yours, Pip-Squeak. Look at the people you’re with.” “It doesn’t mean it can’t happen for the people who really want it!” Me not reacting to him hadn’t lasted long, at all. “You think Zayn’s mum and dad didn’t really want it?” He was on the verge of laughing at me. “You think they got married for a laugh and didn’t work hard? Same for Mike and Tally? Sorry, but your heads in the clouds over there, babe. You’re only going to disappoint yourself.” Mike tugged me even closer to him, because he knew how I felt about that kind of thing, and how excited I was to grow up and make a family. He knew what Harry was saying would be bothering me, and it really was. One, because it was Harry. And two, because he was right. There was a lot more proof in the world that such happy endings didn’t happen as commonly or as easily as I dreamed. Yet my mum and dad were a shining example of the opposite, and I was happy to have grown up with that. ”All families are fucked up.” He said again. “I just... I just don’t think that’s true.” My voice had cracked. With rapid speed, I went from yelling to being painfully inaudible, and everyone noticed. Everyone took it in. The rest of the walk was unsurprisingly quiet, people uncomfortable around me. And they couldn’t comfort me, because they were all on Harry’s side, I knew that much. They just weren’t horrible enough to throw it in my face like he had. Once we were back in our building, that was the moment I caught onto the fact that elevators magnify awkward situations. We all crammed into the tiny thing, which jolted enough with one person in there. The five of us stood shoulder to shoulder as we went up to the top floor, Mike coughing once or twice, probably on purpose, because he was that kind of guy, a total lovable fool. As soon as we were inside, I finally spoke again. “I’m going to bed.” I tried to ignore it was merely 8pm. “Night, everyone.” “Night!” They all called back, pretty much in sync, all but Harry, of course. I got into my room and locked the door behind myself, groaning loudly. I think that was the first time that I found myself genuinely wishing he hadn’t moved in. I was losing my mind after a matter of days, withdrawing myself, choosing to go to bed at 8pm just to I could avoid his company. It wasn’t like me, and it wasn’t what I was used to. I started preparing myself for a good nights kip, realising I hadn’t had a good sleep in days and maybe, going to bed so early was actually a good idea. I walked into the tiny room which held my toilet and grabbed my toothbrush, a little gutted that I would have to leave my room to use a fucking sink, which was situated alongside the communal showers, but it had to be done. I opened the door to the hall and saw, that everyone else had retreated to their rooms. I liked to think it was because I left. Like they couldn’t cope without my company. Like I was the glue of the group. Deluded. I shimmied down the hall and through the kitchen quickly, flicking on the light to the shower room as quickly as I could. It hummed and flickered, blinking back to life, before it was lit, dull, unexciting, revealing the ugly room. I went and stood in front of the sink, preparing my toothbrush and using a baby-wipe to get all the makeup off, watching my face in the mirror. A few seconds later, I caught view of Harry in the mirror as he walked in behind me, dropping his head as soon as he realised he wasn’t alone, probably wishing he had left it a few more minutes so we didn’t have to have another encounter, and I wished the same thing. He awkwardly stood at the sink next to mine, his hair scraped into the most pathetic bun you’ve ever seen, it was literally a few strands of hair tied on the top of his head, useless, there for show. A part of me thought he might apologise for being a complete bellend, but he didn’t, he just started brushing his teeth, and so did I. That awkward silence continued for a few minutes, until we were both done, finishing in time with one another. I began walking out, before he called to hold me back, obviously finally having something to say for himself. “Pip-Squeak?” I turned around with an unpleased and unenthused look on my face, wondering if he would ever drop that nickname. “What?” “We should probably stay away from each other. I’ve just got a constant headache now, and I can’t be fucked.” He huffed, glum. “I actually tried to make an effort with you, Harry. You’re the one who always starts a fucking argument.” “Look who’s starting the argument right now.” My nostrils flared as I continued to look his way, not dropping his eye contact once. I was beyond happy to stay away from him, I wanted nothing more, but that kind of thing was near impossible now he lived with us. He was getting involved with us and what we did, there was no escaping it, no matter how much we denied that fact. But we could try. “You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” I complied. “Fine.” “Fine.” I turned and marched back to my room as quickly as I could, probably even more wound up than I was before, regardless of the fact we had both agreed to call a day on our loathing and just leave one another be. I slammed my bedroom door shut as soon as I was on the correct side, and then turned to face the direction of his room and stuck my middle fingers up to it, as childish as ever. + + + I waited for Zayn to finish his lecture, swinging my legs off the boulder I was sat on. We were in the art section of the campus, so the amount of art that was easy to sit on was in high numbers, even though that probably wasn’t what their purpose was, that’s what everyone did. It was bright out, bitterly cold thanks to the month and the fact we were edging closer and closer to December, but the sun was shining and I was feeling relatively chipper, given the mood I was in the evening before when I went to bed, and given it was a Monday. Because even though I always had Mondays off, they just have that vibe, don’t they? After around ten minutes of patiently waiting, Zayn strolled outside, beanie on, leather jacket and Doc Martens, and he definitely looked the part. And then, to both my joy and dismay, Louis followed close behind. I hadn’t seen him since the apparent kiss we shared, even though no matter how hard I had racked my brain since learning the information on Friday morning, I still had no recollection of it. He looked even better than Zayn. He was obviously ignoring the cold weather in his black and white vans top, tight dark grey skinny jeans clinging to his legs, perfectly white vans on his feet. I was swooning, my head so light I thought I may fall off the structure I’d placed myself upon. The messy hair, the stubble, everything about him was just appealing to me. I clambered off the rock with a little stumble, seeing them both smile wide when they spotted me. “You came!” Zayn smiled. “I did.” I cooed back. At the same time the previous week, Grace had been by my side to pick up Zayn at the end of his Monday lecture. That week, I wasn’t so lucky. “You alright?” Louis asked when they both came to a stop in front of me. ”I’m good yeah. Are you?” ”Yeah, brilliant, thanks.” “Actually,” Zayn began. “I just need to nip for a wee. Give me a minute.” He began jogging off to the building he’d exited from not even a minute before, looking back over his shoulder and giving me a wink, and it sunk in what he was doing. My eyes went wide as I looked back to Louis, trying to act as nonchalant as I possibly could, but there was no hiding my state of panic. Louis however, was a confident soul, and after smiling coyly my way for a moment, he spoke up. “So… I hear you don’t remember our kiss.” I dropped my face into my hands immediately, finding it physically impossible to wipe the smile off my face, but it was pure shame I was feeling. I figured in that moment, since I was surrounded by overconfident boys, maybe it was easier for them, maybe they didn’t succumb the pressures of society quite as easily as girls did, since we’ve been tainted with that bullshit from day one. I then decided, quite quickly, it wasn’t the time to think about such social issues. “Oh god.” I groaned. “Was it that bad?” He grinned. “No!” I bolted my head up again. “Well... I don’t know, I genuinely don’t remember. But I imagine it was very good. Thank you… for kissing me.” “Maybe I’ll do it again at some point. When you’ll remember it.” If that didn’t have the implications that he wanted to kiss me when we were both sober, then knew I would be rendered entirely useless, and it would be extremely clear that I could not read between the lines. I would be a total lost cause. I blushed a thousand different pinks all over my stupid body. “I don’t think I would argue with that.” I somehow spat out. “Glad to hear it.” He continued to grin. Zayn jogged back over to us, probably too eager to hear the gossip of what had gone on in his short absence than actually give us the time to create gossip worth hearing. “We good?” He asked eagerly once he was close, rubbing his hands together because he was a cunning little thing, and also because it was pretty cold. “Yeah, we’re good.” I smiled. “Let me know when you’re out this week. I’ll join you.” Louis spoke, looking at me. ”Will do, man. See you tomorrow.” Zayn chirped. They slapped their hands together, their arms tensing as they pulled it into a hug, and my eyes remained engrossed by Louis, fascinated. And as he walked away, he gave me a wink, shockingly different to the wink Zayn had given me only minutes before. And I think I blacked out.

[joonsjeon]

Fluff Week - Moonlight

Day 5 - Jungkook

I worked together with @mayjaywrites to create an “First time saying I Love You” series for all members of GOT7 and BTS. * = drabbles that I’ve writen and will therefore be posted on this blog (everything else is by @mayjaywrites ) BTS: Suga * // Jimin // Namjoon* // Jin // Jungkook * // V // J-Hope GOT7: Jinyoung // Youngjae // Jaebum* // Mark * // Yugyeom * // Jackson * // BamBam Pairing: Reader x Jungkook Words: 1216 yet another bias

It was late at night, your favorite time to go outside together with him. Not only because basically nobody was around to disturb you, but also because the cool air at night was refreshing. So even if he had a long day at work, was tired and exhausted, he would still almost always agree on going for a walk at night. And on top of it all, there was a park close enough to both of your apartments, where you would meet up and just lie down on the soft grass, staring into the night sky, counting stars and thinking about life. You were already there, waiting for him to arrive. The wind blew around you, it nearly felt a little too cold this night. Goosebumps were already forming on your exposed skin, but you figured it would be fine. A few seconds later you saw someone in the distance, rushing over the street and coming towards you. Hands stuffed into his pockets, head slightly tilted down with a beanie on it and a mask covering the rest of his handsome face. When he walked on the pathway, finally looking up and seeing that you were already there, his pace quickened, soon standing in front of you and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Hello, Jagi. Are you cold? You’re shivering.” He whispered close to your ear, arms still tightly wrapped around you while his hands started rubbing over your back to create some warmth. You didn’t even notice just how cold it was until he mentioned it…subconsciously you had dug your face into his chest, to feel the heat of his body passing onto yours and at the same time inhaling his scent, which would always be your favorite. “Well, guess who looked up how cold it is outside and therefore brought a blanket along?” he proudly asked, the question itself being more rhetorical than an actual question. “The best boyfriend in the world did?” you sighed, ironically making mooneyes at him. When you slipped out of the embrace, to finally move to the place where you usually lied down, you grabbed the strings of the mask behind his ears and pulled it down, putting it into his jacket. His smile was now visible to you, immediately lifting up the corners of your own mouth, and then intertwining your hands. You made your way down to the spot, right behind a tree, giving enough cover from any potential people walking by but at the same time, the top of the tree was so spare that one could still watch the night sky. As you cuddled up next to him with your head resting on his shoulder, one arm slung around you that his warm hand rested on your waist, he covered the both of you with his blanket as best as he could, to make sure you weren’t shivering again. “How was your day?” You asked him once completely settled, even though the existing silence was comfortable after a stressful day like this. “Ah, nothing special. A lot of work. A lot of stress. We are kinda behind our time-schedule, regarding the next comeback. The choreography isn’t good enough yet…” he murmured, and the way it sounded he was clearly disappointed of himself. For absolutely no reason. “Your comeback is in 2 months. There is plenty of time to work on everything, Kookie.” You ensured him, hoping to ease his mind because after mentioning it, there was no way he just let it go again. “2 months are nothing…we will never make it. At least it won’t be good enough for our ARMYs.” He said, definitely working himself up on the topic, who knew what exactly went through his mind. But you didn’t like hearing him like that, or seeing how he was so incredibly hard on himself. Because the amount of time he put into work every day of his life was almost ridiculous. You sat up, looking him straight in the eyes to make sure he now payed attention to your every word. “Jungkook, I beg you to stop talking like that. If you keep on criticizing good work, you will literally work yourself to death one day.” You said, concern filling your voice more than you expected it to do. He looked at you, listening to your words without actually listening, already too deep in his thoughts. He was about to say something when you cut him off again. “Don’t even try! You work hard enough, what you do is perfect just the way it is. You know exactly that ever ARMY out there wants you to rest…because they know how harsh you are on yourselves. And I am seriously concerned that it’ll ruin you…” Now that you were talking about it directly, tears started dwelling up in your eyes. The thought that he was legitimately not satisfied with the 110% he gave every day made you sad. Why would he even start to think in such a way? He noticed your teary eyes and immediately sat up straight, cupping your face with his soft hands, placing a tender kiss on your forehead, then one on your cheek, on the tip of your nose and finally paused in front of your lips when they were just barely touching, feeling his hot breath on your skin as he starred into your eyes. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to make you unhappy.” He apologized with a weak voice, leaning in the last few millimeters and moving your lips together in a well-matched pace, bringing you closer together and immediately erasing the tension that this dark aura had brought up. You let yourself sink on your back again, he was leaning over you with your lips still locked together. Only as you both needed to catch some breath he leaned back, taking a look at your face as if he was memorizing every small detail. “I am not unhappy…I just need you to realize how perfect you are to me.” You breathed against his lips, as they were still close to yours. He smiled at your words, slightly tilting his head as it was his usual habit, even chuckling a little before looking at you again. The way he looked at you, you knew he was thinking about what to say. Words at the tip of his tongue but not yet making their way out, as he gently bit down on his bottom lip, making you want to kiss him again. “I am so lucky that I have you, (Y/N). You are my anchor on days and moments like this.” As your foreheads were pressed together, eyes closed and merely concentrating on the feeling, such as the cliché butterflies in your stomach, you heard him sigh before husking an “I love you.” Your hands still wrapped around his neck, you scooped him close, making your lips melt into each other once again. Obviously, you loved him as well, more than words could ever describe. Your heart fluttered as if it would stop beating any second now, because you couldn’t have imagined a more beautiful scenario in which he could have said these words to you for the first time. “I love you too, I always will.” You whispered, breaking the silence one last time.

[azariahluna]

Only In India (Re-Write)

Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox arrived to her hotel room, furious, throws the rose across the room that Cooper had given her before he slipped away after the dance. Not caring where it landed. The Cooper Gang got away once again, but this time with the Clockwerk Wings. Not so long ago, probably a few weeks ago, they got away with the Clockwerk Tail Feathers. "How?" Carmelita thought."How I didn't know that it was him?" Pissed off at herself, she goes to the closet and removes her dress and puts on some navy blue pajama shorts and a plain white tank top. She then lets her blue hair down that reached to bum. Lastly, she places her Shock Pistol next to the bed.

"He always gets away." Although she's angry from the event, she decided to lay down on her bed to get some rest but began thinking about that damn Ringtail. Instead of thinking about him as a criminal, she began thinking about him in a more personal romantic way. Thinking about the time he saved her from Clockwerk and then......the kiss. Carmelita would never forget that day he kissed her and left her handcuffed. She still remembers how his lips were soft and nice against hers. Craving for more and wanting to rub her hands all over his body and make love to him. Carmelita shakes her head for thinking about Sly like that."He's a damn criminal, not more than that. He should be placed behind bars like every criminal out there. Not a lover."

"Ugh...." Carmelita groaned and  irritated, got up from the bed and walks outside to her balcony. Leaning over the railing using her hands. Starring at the midnight navy blue sky. A cool breeze from the wind hits her body causing shivers through her whole body. "If he wasn't a thief and worked for Interpol things would have been much better between us." She closed her eyes when all of a sudden a voice came from behind her.

"Good evening Miss Fox." The familiar voice said. She opened her eyes and turned around quickly, seeing Cooper twirling his cane sitting on the edge of the bed giving her his signature smile. Not wearing his tuxedo but instead wearing his usual thief attire. "That fucking smile I swear." She thought.   "What the hell are you doing here?" Carmelita said giving Sly a stern look crossing both her arms.

"I just wanted to stop to give my favorite Inspector a goodbye before the gang and I leave tomorrow." Sly responded as he stood up, walking towards Carmelita. "You know, you looked ravishing in that dress you wore tonight love. Probably should do it more often." He complimented, placing a hand on her cheek, caressing it. Carmelita, flattered and blushed from the compliment, looks away for him not to notice. Even though he did which made him chuckle. Her heart began beating like crazy. "I would gladly do it more often once I place you behind bars, Ringtail." She snapped at him, slapping his hand away from her face. Another cold breeze wind occurs, making Carmelita shiver once more."It may be lovely tonight but it is pretty chilly and I don't want you to catch a cold, gorgeous." Sly said.

"I'm fine." She answered in a severe tone as she continues to shiver, giving him a glare. Carmelita sighed and walked back inside her room. Sly closed the balcony and looks back at his favorite Inspector. Carmelita was pointing her shock pistol at the thief."Now put your hands behind your back you no good damn thief." Since she was the first one to enter the room and while Sly was closing the balcony doors, she took the opportunity to grab her shock pistol. Sly chuckled,"You see Inspector, I came by to give a goodbye. Not turn myself in." He crossed both his arms as he is holding his cane.

"Besides, I haven't stolen anything..." He trailed off."yet. Those Clockwerk parts don't belong to the Klaww Gang." He explained. In the corner of his eye he saw the rose that he had given Carmelita before he left the ball."I see one rose wasn't enough to satisfy you huh, my sweet?" "Shut the hell up and quit it with your flirty chit-chat." She sassed and gripped the pistol tighter. "You crooks are all the same. You all break the law so that doesn't make you different." Sly flinched from her comeback and sighed."If I'm the same as every other crook out there, you would have arrested me by the second you saw me." He said as he stepped closer to Carmelita. He got so close to her that her shock pistol made contact to his chest.Sly leaned next to her ear," And you would have shocked me with your shock pistol." He whispered.

"He's right, I would have arrested him and shocked him already but I haven't because these fucking feelings I have for him." Carmelita thought. He may be a pain in the ass for her all the time but he would brighten her day with his flirty chit-chats and compliments. Although she wasn't sure if he actually meant them but It worked.  I mean he did handcuff her to a railing after all. Carmelita snarled, pushed the pistol against him."I'm right here if you're going to shoot. Point blank range, so there isn't a way for you to miss and you would arrest me. I'm not going to run either, so here's your chance Ms.Fox." Sly told. "Here's your chance! SHOOT!" Her mind shouted. She sighed, loosening the grip on the pistol and decided to not arrest him. She placed her shock pistol back on the mini dresser. Carmelita loves way him too much.More than anything including her job even though it would cost her reputation.Sly,confused by her actions made him question why she didn't shoot nor arrest him. He's happy she didn't but it wondered him. Carmelita had turned away and not bother looking at Cooper."You can go." She muttered.  Heartbroken, knowing that she keeps her feelings to herself and that they will continue playing cops and robbers. She felt so vulnerable around him. Butterflies flying in her stomach, her heart beating like if its about to rip out of her chest.

Sly then turns grabs her shoulder, turning her around to face him. She starred deeply in his dark chocolate eyes,lost in them."I also stopped by for another reason." He said. Carmelita, confused of what could the other reason be. He leaned close to her muzzle, a few centimeters away from their lips making contact."I came to steal your breath away." He cupped her face and kissed her. Carmelita's eyes widen by surprised and decided to return the kiss. This caught Sly off guard, he thought he would get yelled at by the lovely vixen but instead she is returning the affection. It only lasted a few seconds but it felt like an eternity for them. They were both breathless as their foreheads were touching. Sly looked at his watch and noticed that he would have to leave at the moment before Bentley starts lecturing him again for not saying where he wondered off.

"Carm," He began as he grabbed both her hands putting them against his chest."I'm going to leave right now back to the gang so we can leave for tomorrow." Sly used of his hands to caress her cheek. Carmelita's heart ached once again,"Please stay with me tonight." She cried."Please.....I love you way too much Ringtail." She finally admitted. Sly shocked and smirked. He gives her a quick peck on the lips."And I love you way more, my dear." Carmelita smiles. "And, I will stay with you tonight." He answered her. He kisses her once more. Carmelita returns the kiss as she wraps her arms around his neck. Sly wraps his arms around her waist pulling her body against his. The kiss becomes more heated by the second. Sly licks Carmelita's lips vying for entry. She lets Sly tongue enter her mouth and began dancing with each other. Both battling for dominance, Carmelita won though. Carmelita moans in the thief's mouth and removes his shirt. Revealing his muscles on his chest, abs and muscular arms. Carmelita rubs her hands all over his chest while kissing him. Sly then travel his kisses down to her cheek,jawline and neck."Mmm Sly." She moaned as both her and Sly fall on the bed. Sly on top of Carmelita. He continues to kiss,lick, bite up and down her neck and removes her tank top , revealing her black bra. Carmelita then wrap her legs around his waist and moans. She then starts to remove his belt while Sly kisses her again on the lips. Sly's pants and boxers are discarded to the floor. Sly then removes her pajama shorts and moans. Both were feeling the passion and love, and wanted it badly. Carmelita is only left with her black bra and panties and Sly already naked.

Carmelita flips over to the other side, which makes her on top of Sly. Sly sits up and puts his hands behind her back removing her bra. Carmelita began kissing and bite Sly's neck while rubbing his chest causing him to make a seductive growl.Then Sly removes her panties and both their naked bodies pressed against each other.

They flip over again and Sly goes lower by her breasts. Carmelita gasps and moans Sly obeys what she said and goes lower to her stomach. He licks her stomach and goes lower to the dirty zone. "If you feel really uncomfortable just tell me okay" Sly says. "Okay" Then Carmelita reached over to her mini dresser to turn off the lamp. They made love all night,both were sweating,panting and screaming in ecstasy. Once they were done,Carmelita was on top of Sly under the covers. She kisses him on the lips. "I love you,Ringtail." She said as she snuggles to him. "I love you too,Carm" Sly kisses her one more time and both fall asleep. The End.