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unicyclehippo · 1 year

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reminder to self: finish the dang wash prompt

[have read it too many times & now my brain is fried so that’s it!! im done!! for @possibilistfanfiction the ray fic as promised, i hope u enjoy it!! for everyone else, if you think you’ve read this before, that’s because the start is functionally identical to the thing i posted a few weeks back for the “wash” prompt]

you should have listened to your brother.

the thought makes you shudder and you ignore it valiantly as you start your morning, because at the heart of it, that’s what you do: you’re a runaway.

hop out of bed; don’t think about it. make breakfast in your tiny kitchen, the overhead light a little dim but bright enough against blue pre-dawn morning; don’t think about it. get ready for work, check the to-do list note in your phone twice to make sure you’ve got everything you need; don’t think about it. not thinking about it works just fine until, asshole that he is, he calls you as you’re climbing into the car.

you think about ignoring him but as much as he ticks you off—and you know that the first or maybe last words out of his mouth are gonna be, when are you coming home, ray—it’s been three weeks since the last time you spoke and you miss him. plus, it’s not as if he’s wrong (ugh). it is lonely here, sometimes, and you have friends closeby but no family, and your stomach hurt all last winter because no one wanted to learn to surf when the water was fuck-off cold and the jobs you got to cover those in-between months didn’t ever last long enough, and he’s right about all of that but he’s wrong about it not being worth it. he’s wrong about you needing to come home, because there’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here and maybe, yeah, maybe that makes you selfish or reckless or any of the other things he’d called you in anger, regretted quickly, but the smell of seasalt and smog clings to you and you feel good, healthy, when you swing into the drivers seat of your car and excitement swells up inside of you—like always, every morning without fail—because this was never about running away, not really, it was always about this. about running to something, about having a different home, about making a place where you feel right in yourself, braver and better too. maybe when you explain that to him this time, for what feels like the hundredth time, he’ll get it.

you put the phone in its clip, up on the dash, and answer his call.

‘hey,’ he says, voice gravelly with the early hour and the crackle of your shitty reception. ‘didn’t think you were gonna pick up. figured you were still ignoring my calls.’

god, you miss him. but he’s your brother so you won’t ever say that except under pain of torture, maybe. Instead, you say, tone clipped,

‘thought about it.’ it’s not helpful to be short with him but hell, you answered, didn’t you? It doesn’t fall on you to fix all of this.

he sits with that for a second, then clears his throat. you can picture him clear as day: he’ll be leaning back against the counter of his kitchen, arms folded, face folded up as he listens hard to every word. there’ll be coffee brewing in a pot, and all the stuff for the kids lunches laid out ready for the assembly line.

he tries again. you love him for this, you admire him for this—not that you’ll ever admit it to him. he never stops trying.

‘you off to work?’

‘yeah.’

‘how’s that going?’

for a second, there’s another short answer on your lips. something terse, something not quite unkind but not welcoming or inviting. but then you think about him standing in the kitchen pre-dawn making your sandwiches, day after day, and glance to the passenger seat to your bag where you tossed the sandwich you’d made this morning in your tiny kitchen—exactly the way he used to make it, and makes now for his son and daughter—and instead you say,

‘i have a new student.’

‘oh? kid or adult class?’

‘adult.’

there’s a smile in his tone, just exactly as teasing as when you were fourteen and admitted to having a crush on sophie perez (a year older than you and so much cooler), when he says, ‘is she pretty?’

‘oh, come on marco.’

‘what! i’m just asking.’

‘you’re just being nosy is what you are.’

‘sorry, sorry,’ he laughs. ‘but that’s totally a yes, by the way.’

you roll your eyes. there’s not really a word for what beatrice is. pretty, yes, absolutely. but it’s sneaky, the ways in which she’s really stunning, and even after three sessions teaching her how to surf you still feel kinda knocked around by her, not quite able to find your feet. she’s so composed, always, that it makes you feel awkward. listens so intently to your instructions and advice that under that close attention you feel singular, like the only person in the world. and, you don’t tell him, cannot tell your brother without seeming like the world’s biggest weirdo, you’ve seen her smile two and a half times. the half had been an accident; you’d turned to her at just the right moment to witness it—she’d been looking at nothing in particular, an empty spot on the beach, eyes gone wistful—but it wasn’t for you, and it wasn’t exactly happy, so it doesn’t seem right to count it as a full third. each time she smiles, it makes you want to see another with a fierceness that startles you. you are no stranger to want, nor attraction, and you know that makes up part of your fascination with beatrice but, if that were not enough, there is even more to her.

all the rest, your brother could wheedle out of you eventually, but this is something you keep locked tightly away, something you have not ever spoken to him about.

you should, eventually. you will (you might).

the first time you met beatrice, spoke with her after wading up and out of the hissing surf, with her lingering on the outskirts of your lessons to “inquire how to take part”—she’d taken the sheet you’d handed her and filled it out right there and then in careful script, beatrice, she/her, twenty four, england, never surfed before, email, phone number, emergency contact, the last of which had made her pause for a long time—something in you had recognised something in her. grief, still painful, had welled up in your chest, nailed your tongue to the roof of your mouth, stung in your eyes powerfully that you’d had to turn away and run your fingers through your hair, dig your heels into the sand, step back into the wet sand and the water pooling around your ankles. the ocean takes away everything you’re not ready to feel; while you are out there, it holds you up, weightless. two minutes into talking with beatrice, you know that she wants the same thing.

none of which you particularly want to tell your brother, so you say, ‘yeah, she’s pretty.’

‘single?’

‘i haven’t asked.’

‘you should.’

‘should i?’

pulling neatly into the park by the boardwalk—your favourite, for no particular reason other than this was the same one you always take, the same one you took the first day you came here, ended up here—you turn off the car but don’t make any move to get out. the engine quietens, then goes silent. marco fills the silence. saying things like how long has it been since you went on a date and you never know unless you try. you pull the keys from the ignition, toss them into the little waterproof bag you’ll take down to the sand with you. sunscreen, food, first aid kit.

‘what happened to, it’s time to come home?’ you interrupt his teasing.

he sighs. the line crackles, weirdly high-pitched, as the kettle begins to make noise on his end.

‘listen, ray. i miss you. i’m not gonna pretend that’s not true, or that i don’t worry about you all the time. and with all the shit that’s been going on lately… i want you nearby. but asim said, and i guess he might be right, that i’m being overprotective. and an ass.’

you’ve thought similar things about him before. twice, just this morning. but hearing him say it, voice warm and tired and a little ashamed, makes you want to take the first plane home and hug him until all the weird, unsettled, lonely parts of you find their place. like all it’ll take to fix everything is a hug from your big brother. but you know that isn’t true. knowing it makes you feel a little old and sad. resolute too, because you’re good here, better than you were. you made this place for yourself and you’re filling it with good, important things.

that’s far too many feelings for four a.m. so you say, ‘say asim was right again,’ and marco laughs. and then, because he was open first, and that makes it easier to follow, to admit to your own missteps, mistakes, you say, ‘i think about it all the time. coming home, i mean. i love you guys, and i do miss you guys, and you’re right. it’s hard out here. but…i love it. my life, the beach.’ he laughs again at that, which is fair. you could have said one or the other; the beach is your life, after all. ‘hey marco, i gotta go. before the waves get tired.’

‘yeah. yeah, i get it. hey - talk later?’

‘yeah. anytime.’

‘love you. be safe out there.’

‘always am. love you too.’

beatrice is waiting on the sand when you finally get down there; she’s not looking for you, just watching the sun rise, and you’re going to call out to her when something changes—maybe some ephemeral thing, little more than a change in the quality of the light when you take a step closer; maybe the way she’s holding herself, one hand folded over her wrist where you’ve seen the black ink in the divot of her wrist, delicate letters small enough that you haven’t been able to read it when you’ve snuck a peek or two before. whatever it is, you decide to give her a second on her own.

the sand is hot on the surface and cooler beneath. you shift your weight, dig your feet down until the sand covers the tops of your feet, just to give yourself something to do. and then you stare out over the ocean and breathe.

it’s beautiful. it’s so fucking beautiful. you’ve known this was where you were gonna end up since you were eight years old and your cousin gabriel had pinned a photo of it to your wall—no one will ever consider it a masterwork of photography, that old blurred snapshot of sand and water and the sun, and just a tiny bit of his fingertip, no one but you because it had been his and he gave it to you, because he’d stood on the beach—maybe this beach, maybe right where you are now—and loved it so much he’d taken a photo of it and you’ve got the proof of it (proof of him, always) tucked into a book on your bedside.

‘good morning.’

you drag your eyes away from the sunrise—super gorgeous, thin wispy clouds like cotton-candy, pink in the sunlight, striped across the distant horizon, and everything shimmering in what, logically, you know is the smog haze but for a second it can just be beautiful too—to find that beatrice has wandered up to join you. she’s watching you with the attentive curiosity you’ve come to expect—warmer than polite, cooler than inviting.

‘hey, morning. sorry i’m late—got caught up talking to my brother.’

she nods her understanding. it has a thoughtful tilt to it, or maybe questioning. ‘does he live elsewhere in the world?’

‘excuse me?’

‘it’s early for a call. is he in another timezone?’

you don’t think she’s interrogating you, or she doesn’t mean to interrogate you. you actually think she’s trying to be nice and show interest, so you say, ‘well, he’s home—mexico—so… i think it’s an hour later for him. something like that. but he’s a get-up-and-go kinda guy—has been, ever since i took up surfing. he used to drive me to the water when i was a kid.’

‘older brother, then.’

‘only by a couple of years.’ you roll your eyes, ‘that’s all he needs to get up in my business.’

‘that’s what brothers are for. so i hear.’

‘true.’ you think about saying something more, because all you want to do right now is keep talking to her as long as possible, preferably forever, but that urge seems like a you problem, and something that’ll get washed away the second you dunk your head in the water. ‘okay! hey - mind taking this board and i’ll run back for the other one?’

when you return with your board, hauled down off the roof of your car, beatrice has set her sandals neatly beside her tote a few meters up from the tideline where it’ll all stay dry. you dump your bag right beside hers and jog to join her, check her out with a quick look. of the wetsuit, that is, that you had advised her to buy if surfing was something she wanted to keep doing.

she crouches, wets her hands, and secures the leash of her board carefully around her ankle.

‘good job!’ you compliment, because it’s four-something in the morning and, yeah, it’s your choice to get up this early but that doesn’t mean you’re firing on all cylinders yet. you want to say something impressive and kind and get her eyes on you because she’s pretty and interesting but, here’s the thing, most of the time you’re teaching children so the compliment comes out the way you would say it to little jayla (eight years old and nervous about everything and therefore, in your opinion, the bravest little soul in the world for keeping at it).

beatrice looks over at you, amused, and you earn your third full smile from her.

she’s laughing at you, definitely, which you don’t mind, have never minded when it comes to girls; years of report cards scrunched at the bottom of your bag, with comments amounting to smart enough but needs to spend more time listening and less time clowning around for the girls will back you up in that regard. your mami despaired of your grades and your attention (or lack of it) and she had chided you then, sat you down at the kitchen table opposite her as you made dinner together for the whole family, splitting the excess. she scolded—and pressed a ripped piece of bolillo into your hand to tide you over to dinner—she lamented—and passed over a bowl, diced tomatoes, crisp and red—and she talked to you about hard work and the importance of school and respect for your teachers and you know now that it was all love, that loud bright kitchen and how she made you handle it all together, space and work and life; you didn’t have the words to explain then—though you remember trying, loudly—that you knew, or thought, you were only really any good at two things, that most of the time you feel like you’re sleepwalking through your life and it’s only when you’re out there in the water, or making your friends laugh, that you feel totally real and vital and incredible.

here, today, beatrice’s eyes are on you and you’ve made her smile (laugh, even). you feel invincible.

you laugh at yourself. run a hand through your hair. ‘you wouldn’t believe how many people put their wetsuits on backwards, or don’t bother with the leg rope, so. really, you’re doing great.’

she shrugs very slightly, cheeks gone a little pink under the compliment, or the sunrise, or maybe—a girl can dream—your singular attention. ‘thank you, then.’

‘sure,’ you say, and, ‘i can get your zip for you, if that’s okay? it’s not quite all the way up.’

‘thank you, yes.’

she turns away from you so you can fix it and you do, immediately and without lingering. she has freckles across her shoulders; the teeth of the zipper tug closed, swallow up the sight of them. you think, briefly, about kissing her there on the back of her neck, her shoulders, of taking a zip between your fingers and pulling it down.

‘how does it feel? i know the wetsuits can be weird at first.’

‘it’s fine. i’ve worn stranger.’

you desperately want to ask for details but, aside from her first name, you don’t know anything much about her except that she wants to learn surfing, and probably the first time you ask for more information shouldn’t be about what she’s worn, even though your brain is filled with all kinds of theories. so instead you swallow back a flirty comment—also she is paying you to teach her, you remember abruptly, and maybe you should wait until after the lesson to flirt with her—and nod to the water.

‘let’s hit it, then.’

the sand is golden, and the ocean is starting to turn gold under the sunlight, and you feel a bit golden too. you think idly, self-indulgent, you want heaven to be like this. a golden beach, with everyone you’ve ever loved on it with you. you take it in—a great start to the morning—and, smiling, run forward into the water.

she’s lighter, after surfing.

in your first few lessons, you weren’t sure whether it would be like that for her. it’s not the physical part—she’s obviously fit and athletic enough to be good at surfing (you’ve noticed); there’s this…relaxation isn’t the right word, meditative is close but too dramatic for your tastes.

it’s like this. you paddle out to the calm, past the small waves that break close to the shoreline, and sit on your board and wait, legs dangling in the water, fingers drifting over the surface of it. maybe you sit in silence, maybe you chat with your buddy. and then you pick out a wave and then there’s this feeling when the wave swells and you catch it just right—you’re a little outside of yourself, entirely out of your head, and you experience it totally, trusting the wave to carry you and your body to move the way you’ve taught it to. you thought, when you first met her, that beatrice was too contained for that, every movement so precise, so controlled, intentional and intelligent and totally present, always watched, always watching herself. if there’s anyone who needs to get out of their head, you thought then and think now, it’s beatrice.

and now. it’s only been four lessons, four days of knowing her split up over a couple weeks. you’re sitting on your board, legs in the water, cold spray in your face. august and siti—a couple of the regulars, friendly, you talk sometimes enough to say hello at the least, and lent august your sunscreen last week when they forgot to pack some even though it is not cheap—are a decent way further out. you see a good wave start to roll in and before you can say anything to beatrice, she’s already spotted it and moving. you stay where you are, watching as she catches it alone so you can check her form and you see it happen. she pops up smooth and rides it all the way in. a second later, you’re searching for a wave you can catch and wave at her to stay; you tumble off in the shallows, not your most graceful wave ever, and rush up to her. beatrice is smiling (four and a half, you think, totally brainless), big and so pleased, and you can’t help but grin back at her.

‘you felt it!’ you call out—accuse, almost—when you’re close and she laughs. slicks her hair back off her face with a trembling hand.

‘i - i think - yes, i did, yes.’ she’s breathing hard, from excitement you think—she’s caught waves before, bigger ones even, but this is different and you can tell. it’s entirely confirmed when she reaches out, clasps your wrist, and smiles—all for you. (five and a half.) ‘thank you, thank you.’

‘yes,’ you say, a little brainless, a little helpless. ‘of course.’

(fourteen years old, madly in love with sophie perez and madly heart-broken when you spotted her hand-in-hand with some scruffy-haired unfunny boy, your cousin gabriel had driven far across town to pick you up and, ignoring the impressive sulk you’d sunken into, packed you into his car and took you to the beach. he hadn’t spoken to you at all while you cried into his shoulder, his arm thin and strong around you, holding you tight, a tether, and when you roughly scrubbed the tears off your shame-hot face, he’d smacked your hands away and pulled a pack of tissues from his bag, cleaned you up carefully. nodded when he was done, approving. and then he stood and walked knee-deep into the water, not seeming to care that he was in jeans or that you’d have to get back into his car in wet clothes.

love is like the ocean, he’d said.

you remember rolling your sore eyes because at fourteen years old you already knew that love wasn’t the ocean. love was enjoying all the same music and turning up early to class to get the seat across from hers and the way your heart sped up when you passed her in the hall and staying up way too late dreaming of ways to make her laugh in class the next day. but gabriel was your favourite so you listened carefully, and you’re thankful for that now because you can remember so much. his dark curls, the smudge of his eyeshadow, how cold the water had been on your skin, how warm his arm had been around your shoulders.

not everyone loves her the same way. some people stay for a day and then head back to the mountains. he’d paused. mountains are, i dunno, a loveless marriage in this metaphor. you’d laughed at him. some people paint it, or make movies, but they never swim in it. some people sail out in their nice boats and go fishing. take what they want from her and head back to dry land. but for people like us? gabriel wore rings on his fingers and a shirt, tight, in a dusky kind of orange. love for us is like the ocean. we could drown in it and it wouldn’t be enough. he had a boyfriend in the city, and was beautiful and proud and kind, and you’d looked out over the calm sea and thought the world must be really different for him, vibrant and strange and wonderful. you felt special, nestled into his side.

people like us, he’d said, and you remember because you remember everything about that afternoon, that in amongst his kindness, he’d sounded sad.)

you’re not fourteen anymore. you love the ocean more than you love anything else. when beatrice smiles at you, your heart swells, crashes, drags you under. you love her, too.

‘i love surfing,’ you tell her later, pleasantly tired.

you trudge up toward the car park, stumble a little at the tide-mark where wet sand turns dry and gives way under your weight. you swear under your breath; every spare moment of your life has been spent at one beach or another, and you’d think that would earn some kind of loyalty perk, like, never tripping over your feet in front of cute girls, but apparently it doesn’t work that way. but beatrice only laughs, kindly, and puts a hand out to steady you and you don’t need it but you take it, of course. beatrice is slimmer than you, and a little taller, and far more graceful; you wonder if she’s ever tripped over anything in her life. her hand is cool from the water and calloused and scarred, which you didn’t entirely expect but makes a kind of sense in the collage you’re putting together in your head of what little scraps of information she’s given you.

beatrice takes her hand back; you keep your observations to yourself.

‘you love surfing,’ she prompts. and then, ‘i’m starting to love it too, i think.’

‘it’s okay if you don’t, i won’t think less of you,’ you say, only lying a little bit, which you think she knows because she arches an eyebrow in your direction. you grin back. ‘of course i hope you do. but if you’re only coming to lessons for my many charms, i completely understand.’

‘is it hard? surfing, with such a large head?’ she snarks, unimpressed but eyes bright.

‘god never gives us more than we can handle,’ you say, absolutely facetious, absolutely cocky. she looks away. you put “doesn’t like jokes about god” in the collage of beatrice and move on. ‘you thanked me. earlier. you don’t need to. you’re paying me, first of all,’ you tease, ‘but. i love surfing for what it is, for myself, out there alone. i love every bit of it. but the teaching part… i didn’t expect to love that. it’s turned out to be so cool. getting to know all kinds of people, introduce them to surfing. and the water, too, sometimes. watching them fall in love with…’

you stop at the rocks and look behind you. the strip of sand, the greedy suck of the tide crawling higher up the beach, the shimmering green-glass sea.

‘with all of that.’

you think about being embarrassed about your tone—way too sincere, way too holy—but when you meet her eyes you see she understand this, too: that holy can be found outside the cathedral, that hymns can be the raucous gull shriek and wave crash and breath.

‘getting to partake, and teach, and do what i love every day? honestly my genuine pleasure.’

the words bring something complicated to her face. sad? wistful? a little angry, definitely. her eyes return to the view; you stay looking at her, not keen to lose whatever she might say to the crash and hiss of the waves.

‘i wish…’ she holds herself still. she’s lost the lightness surfing brought her; you don’t know if it’s your fault, you hope it isn’t, or if it was never going to last very long for her. ‘i wish i had that.’

if you were thinking about it properly, you don’t know beatrice or her situation well enough to give advice. but you like her, and you want to be able to help, and you get the impossibly strong (if slightly uncertain) vibe of queerness absolutely radiating off her and that you understand. plus, surfing makes you brave—a little stupid in that invincible way, like nothing can hurt you, like nothing can truly go wrong, like anything that does go wrong can be fixed—so, picking up your board again, you head off toward your car once more and she follows.

as you walk, you say, ‘i think you can have it. i think you can make it. joy, passions, a life you want to live… that doesn’t fall out of the sky, you know?’ she flinches at that but you keep going, since you already dove in. ‘most of the time, you have to work for it. all of the time, it’s about making decisions and figuring out what’s important. figuring out who you are—how you feel, how you want to exist, what you want to do. and then you have to find your way there.’ scraping your fingers through your hair, pushing it back out of your eyes, you take a second to think. ‘once you know the life you want to have, you can go out and get it. a little at a time.’

she stops where the sand hits concrete, which you get. the beach feels worlds away from reality, sometimes, and you get wanting to stay there as long as possible. everything seems smaller, compared to the ocean. more manageable. you stand there with her.

‘what if what i want is impossible?’

‘…damn. great question. i don’t know. set yourself an easier goal?’ that startles her, and for a moment you think it would have been better to be gentle or sincere but then she laughs, louder than before. god, you think, thank you for letting me meet her. thank you for letting me make her laugh. ‘i don’t always turn into a life coach and give unasked for advice after surfing, i swear. it costs ten bucks more for that package, if you want to spring for that next time, but hey, first one for free.’

‘perhaps i will. you seem to have all the answers.’

‘maybe not all of them but yeah, i know some stuff.’ you let sincerity bleed through, here, because you joke around but there’s something serious and seriously healing about being with other people, being able to be open and honest with them, and you can be that for beatrice, if she wants.

‘what about you?’

‘what about me?’

‘you made the decision to come here,’ beatrice says, with that faintly accusing, faintly interrogative tone she gets. ‘why?’

ah. here is what your invincibility gets you—the sting of salt in your eyes; a heavy pressure against your head, your ears, like you’ve dunked you head beneath the waves and all you can hear is the slam of your pulse; and that feeling—one that doesn’t hit so often anymore—that you are just one little creature treading water at the top of the vast ocean, alone, with no one around to help you out.

it only lasts for a few seconds.

you’ve talked to people, on and off, for a few years. and you know how to ground yourself in the here and now—the heat of the sand, the sun on your shoulders, your hair drying into careless waves and curling a little around your ears, tickling your jaw, the taste of salt and lip balm when you lick your lips, the click of your wrist when you flex it.

you step off the sand and into the parking lot, toward your car. for a minute, you work in silence getting your board up onto the rack; the work helps but the collar of your wetsuit is soaked and heavy, tight around your throat. when you turn back to help beatrice with her board, you grab for the zipper and tug it down an inch, let it slacken so you can breathe better.

it has been a long enough delay in answering her that she’s starting to make assumptions, observations of her own. she also has the faintly horrified look of someone who has stepped in something gross—dog shit, or, in this case, brought up a more deeply personal conversation than she was prepared for—and looks like she’s searching desperately for a way to change the subject. but it was a direct question, an honest one and not unfair, not one you’re unhappy answering, so you say,

‘when i say you make decisions, choices…things happen to us in life and we can’t control that shit. but you get to decide what to do after that. something… something kinda rough happened in my life.’ you look at her, and think of a grief so profound that you have to wear it on your skin. you flex your hands, and look down at the tattoo on her wrist that you still haven’t taken the time to examine, not visible under the sleeve of her wetsuit. ‘my cousin died,’ you tell her. ‘he was really important to me. and after that, i chose to come here. left my hometown, my family, and started again. i’d wanted to do it for ages and i guess i realised this was the only life i was gonna get. so here i am. and that,’ you say, tone much lighter, ‘is all you’re getting out of me this morning. you know how it goes—just a little of a great thing at a time. can’t risk you getting sick of me, can i?’

beatrice looks at you for a long moment, fingers resting on her wrist. eventually, she shakes her head, passes over her board. ‘i’m not sick of you.’’

‘oh yeah?’ you hoist up the board and fix it in place. when you look back over your shoulder, you mean to say something teasing but lose your head because she’s looking at you—your back, your arms. you flex a little more than you need to and her eyes dart to your muscles, your wrists, and linger on your tattooed hands.

she turns away with pink cheeks you’re certain isn’t the sun’s fault. clasps her hands behind her back.

‘thank you,’ she says, sincerely. ‘for sharing that with me.’

‘sure, of course.’ it’s not really an of course. you can count on two hands the number of people you would talk to about gabriel. but it’s an of course for her. you don’t think too hard about it.

‘and for the lessons.’

that makes you laugh. ‘the ones you are paying for? you’re welcome.’ it’s kind of obvious at this point that she’s just looking for things to say, to hang out a little longer, and you take pity on her. and also, you want to spend more time with her too so, hey, works out perfectly. ‘if you’re not busy, if you don’t have to run off, maybe we can talk some more? i don’t have to be anywhere for a while and there’s this place down the road—a few minutes that way, walking distance, easy. decent coffee, great view. we could get coffee. breakfast, even.’

beatrice turns super slowly and stiffly to look in the direction you point. it’s a long, long moment before she looks at you.

‘as a date?’

‘hopefully, yeah.’

‘oh.’ her eyes dart around the mostly empty parking lot—it can’t be later than six, if that—and suddenly contained seems a little more like hidden. ‘I’m—that’s kind of you—’ she swallows. sets her shoulders, her jaw, and meets your eyes. ‘i have a partner.’

‘that makes sense.’ you wonder, briefly, what her partner is like. you hope they’re stoic and serious as beatrice is, because if they’re hot and funny like you it’ll be vaguely devastating. maybe you’ll get to meet them. ‘as friends, then.’ beatrice hesitates. ‘would your partner be cool with that?’

beatrice smiles again, one of those not-for-you smiles. you think again, more fervently, that you’d like to meet her partner—they must be something seriously special to have captured beatrice’s attention, first of all, but to get her to smile like that…

‘she’d be delighted, actually.’ she touches her wrist and nods. ‘yes. thank you. i - we - can do that. get coffee.’

she makes it sound revolutionary, like she’s never had coffee before, which you know is not the case because you’d mentioned, offhand, that if one more goddamn politician or bank twitter account advised people to save money and make coffee at home you were gonna lose it, and she’d agreed that she preferred homemade tea and store-bought coffee, and mentioned an article she’d read on how coffee was produced and how it worked, which she though was “quite interesting” and when she forwarded it to your e-mail it wasn’t a think piece like you’d been expecting but rather a fourteen page research article, peer-reviewed, on the social aspects of caffeine consumption, or something like that. there’s genuine nerves in her rigid posture, and you think of how revolutionary, world-changing, bold, fucking terrifying and a little bloody it’s been to get here, where you’re standing now.

‘cool. if you’ve got time after, there’s this surf shop—it’s a bit of a hike but,’ you flick your eyes to the cloudless blue sky overhead. ‘nice day for it. we can look at a couple of boards for you. i’m happy to go with you, help you find something good. borrowing a board is fine while you’re learning but it’ll be easier and feel better when you’ve got one that’s properly suited to you.’

she nods seriously, the way she always does when you talk about surfing, student to teacher. ‘i - would like that.’

‘yeah? awesome, alright!’

the cafe is a decent size and decently popular, which normally makes it hard to get a seat sometimes but today is a day of miracles and a couple is clearing out right as you get in, freeing up a table in the laneway. it’s in a good spot, shaded by one of the wide umbrellas and not in the way of the servers, so you sit sideways in your chair and happily stretch out your legs, pluck off your sunglasses and hang them off the collar of your t-shirt. opposite, beatrice tucks herself into her seat prim and proper, no surprises there; what does surprise you is how still she sits and how, even though you know that she agreed—wants—to be here, it’s like she’s trying to go invisible.

the server who brings out your drinks is young and harried, doesn’t even pause when you thank him. you’d ordered an espresso, and beatrice had asked for the same, but now she’s staring down at it doubtfully.

‘did you want something else?’

she shakes her head no. ‘i’d like to try it. this is your preferred coffee?’

‘my abuelo makes the meanest espresso you’ve ever had. this is water in comparison.’

‘oh.’

‘but it’s a nice place and i like the beans they use here. i really should ask what their blend is one of these days but,’ you shrug. ‘i don’t have a machine at home so what’s the point, right?’

she nods. picks up the little cup and sips at it. immediately, her nose wrinkles and her lips twist and her perfect posture breaks for a second as she bodily fights the urge to say, presumably, judging by her grimace, ‘yuck!’ she lowers it but doesn’t set it down, like it would be impolite to abandon it immediately, and watches with the tiniest grimace as you drink it happily.

‘not for you?’

‘at risk of sounding like a stereotype, i am more of a tea drinker. this is…rather a powerful taste.’ she looks a little guilty setting it back down. ‘do you mind if i order something else?’

‘no, course not. but i might judge you on what you get,’ you tease, grinning, and she just rolls her eyes, nods. you split your attention between enjoying the morning and watching the line creep forward until she’s at the register, shake your head when she folds another note into the tip jar.

she comes back to the table with another coffee—an oatmilk latte, with lavender of all things—and, as promised, you tease her gently about it.

‘really settling in, aren’t you? very LA of you,’ you say, and pretend to gag. ‘lavender. gross.’

beatrice smiles over the lip of her cup, shakes her head. ‘your favourite drink tastes like battery acid, i don’t think your opinion counts.’

‘ouch.’

‘you mentioned your abuelo,’ she says. ‘do you have much family?’

talking about family is easy, even if beatrice does make it a little of an interrogation—she gets everyone’s names and ages, nodding with this intense look in her eyes like she’s filing it away somewhere in her brain, like if you never spoke again and ran into each other in ten years she would still remember. you don’t have anything to hide, happy to tell her: yes, you’ve been here a while, a little over five years; surfing has always been your favourite thing to do; no, it’s not your only job, you have a very boring desk job but the boring bits are compensated by the fact that you get to work from home and your boss is kind of amazing about letting you take your afternoon run down to the beach and back; yes, you’re queer, you’ve known forever and so has your family, and yes they’re fine with it, very supportive, and they love you the same as they always did after you came out.

‘barely needed to, really. my mami said she knew since i was like ten, eleven, maybe. all because i followed my tennis coach around like a duckling, which makes sense because i can’t think of why else i would play tennis, it fucking sucks.’ beatrice sips guardedly at her coffee, looking away, and it’s so carefully inoffensive that you have to laugh. ‘tell me you don’t love tennis, beatrice, please.’

she shrugs carefully. ‘i’ve enjoyed it in the past. both playing and spectating.’

you groan. ‘no, beatrice! christ.’

‘it’s an olympic sport—‘

‘it’s dead boring,’ you insist.

beatrice frowns at you, considering. ‘you’re bad at it,’ she announces after a moment, very confident. ‘if you were better at it, perhaps you’d enjoy it more.’ you laugh, shrug a little, because she’s hit the nail on the head. she continues, ‘to its credit, tennis has serena williams, the most incredible athlete—‘

‘messi.’

‘team sport,’ she counters, and you cede the point with a nod.

‘certainly she’s the greatest tennis player of all time—‘

‘oh undoubtedly.’

‘—and it’s also one of the only sports that pays men and women equal prize money, and has mixed competitions.’

‘great points,’ you allow. ‘and yet, somehow it’s still fucking boring.’ beatrice fully scowls, shaking her head, and you have to ask, ‘are you rethinking being friends with me?’

she relents after a moment. sets down her drink with a sigh. ‘we can be friends,’ she tells you after a moment. ‘so long as we’re on the same page regarding serena williams.’

‘i’d love to regard serena williams.’

‘you should watch tennis, then,’ beatrice tells you bluntly, and smiles, pleased, when you laugh hard at that.

‘okay. you know everything about me now so what about you?’

‘what about me?’

you push a hand through your hair, ruffle it; her eyes follow the movement, your hands, and then she stares down at her coffee. ‘how long have you been in LA?’

‘a month. perhaps a little less.’

‘and you came here because…?’ when she hesitates, you say, ‘wait, wait, let me guess—you’re going to be in movies, right?’ she laughs like that’s ridiculous—even if one in five people you meet here is an aspiring actor, and none of them as compelling or, honestly, attractive as beatrice is—and relaxes. ‘ok, not movies. tv?’

‘no, i’m not here to act. i’m here to…’ she picks up a knife off the table, turns the cutlery smoothly between her fingers. ‘settle, i suppose. i’ve been travelling for some time.’

‘oh yeah? where to?’

it takes a little nudging for her to get going but when she does, she speaks very sincerely of the world, of its people and religions, of sights natural and man-made. she’s light on details but you can tell that the travel was important and life-changing, which you sort of understand. you haven’t been many places but every town away from where you grew up felt like a whole new world, like freedom, and you can only imagine that beatrice’s travelling was like that but no doubt on a far grander scale.

‘and your partner? what are they like?’ you ask, and immediately know that you’ve fucked up, because beatrice looks abruptly striken. ‘sorry, i -‘

‘no. it’s fine. she - ‘ a little of the horror in her fades the moment she says she, like even the thought of her partner is enough to soothe, but most of it stays. she picks up one of the paper napkins, twists it harshly between her fingers. ‘she’s sick.’

sick, she says, voice thick, unsteady. it occurs to you that she’s lying, trying to soften the blow or maybe deny it to herself again, but beatrice doesn’t seem like a liar. you choose to believe her. this is what it was, you realise. the source of that grief you’d felt, seen, ever since you first met her. you recognise the grief in her eyes—loss, fear, confusion too, like she doesn’t know quite what to do with herself. you remember that. the fog, the ache, when he was gone like an organ removed and your life having to close and heal around the lack. trying to find something that filled in that empty space, or fit enough that it didn’t hurt so much.

love for us is like the ocean. that’s true for you, then and now. you don’t think it’s the same for beatrice.

there’s love in every part of her—the joy and the waiting, the grief and the hurting—and there’s a cross around her neck that drags low, heavy, and there are words on her wrist that stand out stark against her skin and you think for beatrice love is like religion, holy, dedicated, faithful. you’re terrified that she’s waiting for a miracle that will never come; you hope, of course you hope and will pray for it tonight, that she gets it.

it’s also far too much to consider on a weekday before coffee, and you’ve already planned to keep her in your life in whatever capacity you can, so. you can talk about it later.

‘oh. that’s -’ beatrice looks like if you say another word she’s gonna bolt; if she does, you’re not sure that she’ll come to her next lesson, even if she has already paid for it. instead of condolences or well wishes, you say, ‘do you wanna hear about the time i hopped a fence and ripped my pants? right in the butt.’

she wasn’t expecting that in the slightest, obviously. a small smile curls her lips upwards and she resettles, looking dramatically less like she’s going to flee. ‘yes. that sounds very amusing.’

‘it’s funny now, sure, but back then? first of all, i got teased a lot. and second, it fucking stung,’ you bemoan, grinning when she looks a little unsure of whether this was, like, the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. she relaxes a little more and you thank god and your parents and brother that you get to be the person you are, someone who can make other people laugh. that’s not a bad life–surfing at the beach, a boring job, and making your friends laugh? not bad at all.

‘sounds like a pain in the ass.’ beatrice says, looking very pleased with her joke when it makes you groan, which is a lot better than her looking devastated. ‘what happened?’

‘usual idiot kid stuff. playing footy with my brother, kicked the ball over the neighbours fence. i thought i could jump it, get it back for us, and i did. mostly,’ you add after a tiny pause. then, slyly, you say, ‘the only reason i didn’t rip my boxers and my pants is because i was going commando.’

‘no.’

‘better a cut up my ass than ruining my good boxers,’ you wink, and beatrice laughs.

it’s just as easy as that to turn the conversation to lighter topics. she knows what you’re doing—you can tell, because her smile is occasionally too grateful than is deserved for just a chat over coffee—but she allows you to do it, and all too soon it’s been an hour and she’s buying you a second coffee, takeaway this time, and tipping, like, two hundred per cent with the most pristine notes you’ve ever seen tucked away in this slim handsome wallet, and you’re walking lazily, slowly back the way you’d come toward the beach. it’s not really a surprise that she declines the offer of heading to the surf shop—she still seems a bit unsteady after the mention of her partner—and you’re a little worried that she’ll disappear from your life now so you slow your pace when you see your car, twirl your keys around your finger.

‘what is it, ray?’ she asks, a touch cautious but mostly good-natured, curious.

‘busted. i was just thinking… you have a partner—major bummer, by the way,’ you tease, which is a fucking risk, but she manages a tiny smile. ‘mostly for you, because i was gonna ask you out and it would’ve been a good time, i know all the coolest places in LA.’ her cheeks go a little pink but she’s still smiling, so, ‘so despite being heart-broken, i’m going to this party tomorrow night. just a small thing, house party with a bunch of folks i go surfing with. you’ll probably meet most of them, if you keep up the dawn patrol, but it might be nice to get to know them out of the water. y’know, wearing clothes.’ much more seriously, much more sincerely, you tell her, ‘it’s absolutely cool if you want to be with your partner, or if you’re not going out much, but i wanted to invite you anyway. i think you’d enjoy it. very casual scene—music, some beers, a disproportionate amount of queer folk. plus, i’ll be there looking hot, that’s always a plus. you can be my wingwoman!’

beatrice frowns, considering her words carefully. ‘my partner is… she’s in a speciality hospital so i don’t get to visit her. i - promised her i would have some fun,’ she tells you, fingers brushing against her wrist. in this life, you’ve managed to read now, sitting opposite her for an hour in the morning sunlight, drinking coffee that almost tastes like home, sitting in a body and a life that entirely feels at home, and you look across at beatrice and see someone who is almost there. almost certain, almost sure, almost happy. ‘yes,’ she says, after taking a bolstering breath. brave, you think, with sudden fondness, protective. it comes to you, a splinter of a memory, being afraid of the ocean; gabriel plunging in ahead of you with such joy that you forgot. ‘yes,’ she says again, ‘i’d love to come to the party.’

‘amazing!’

‘and, while i find it difficult to imagine you would have a problem finding people to go on dates with you, yes, i will be your…wingwoman, if you require it. what is the dress code?’

‘too hot for leather, unfortunately,’ you tease, and have the extreme delight of watching beatrice stumble over literally nothing, ears going pink. so, so valiantly you manage to not comment on it. instead, you say, ‘wear whatever makes you feel good and happy. hot, if you want to feel hot. that’s always the rule.’

‘you get to decide what you do.’ it takes you a second to place her words—they’re your words, from this morning, which makes you smile because she’s quoting you, very seriously and kindly like that actually helped her, maybe. ‘i do best with rules, or a guideline,’ she mutters, but sets her shoulders and nods, decisive. ‘i’ll find something to wear. you have my number.’

‘from your form, i do, yeah. it’s cool if i text you?’

‘yes.’

‘alright. awesome, i’ll pin the address for you.’

‘good.’

beatrice walks you all the way to your car, shakes your hand like you’ve just concluded a job interview, and then continues on quickly. she’s got a white-knuckle grip on the handle of her tote bag and walks away with this quick, neat stride that makes you feel self-conscious about your own walk, like maybe you’ve been doing it wrong for your whole life. more importantly, there’s about a thirty per cent change that beatrice will actually turn up at this party but you’ve hoped for things with worse odds that were way less important to you than this, so you easily, recklessly hope that she’ll turn up.

the likelihood of beatrice actually showing up is still low, you remind yourself, even though she had texted this morning to accept and had thanked you very sincerely - and formally - for the invitation. the uber drops you off on the corner where you had agreed to meet and you hop out, saying a cheerful goodbye to your driver, rajeev, who had taken one look at you and nodded and switched his playlist to something titled GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS which…accurate. he totally earned his five stars and you’re clicking through to leave a quick review—clean car, GREAT music—when beatrice calls your name.

‘hey! you came!’

beatrice strides up the street to join you. the timing of her arrival three seconds after yours is odd enough that, for a second, you wonder if she’s been waiting and for how long. then, you get distracted by beatrice in her gay ass outfit—lightwash jeans, loose, that fall to her ankles; a soft-looking crewneck, blue; and birkenstocks that are either brand new or excruciatingly well-cared for, with not a speck of dirt on the white sandals—and realise you’ve made a huge mistake. there’s no way beatrice can be your wingwoman. every queer woman in this house will flock to her and her damn british accent and her freckles and her polite, comfortable, slightly masculine air, and the way she looks at everyone like they’re important. god. beatrice is devastating at four in the morning in a wetsuit, hair slicked back with ocean water; she’s devastating now, with the sleeves of her crew folded just once, precisely, enough to show off the dip of her wrists, and her hair pinned up in a pristine bun.

she stops mid-step, looks you up and down, and you stop calling yourself an idiot long enough to preen. with beatrice coming tonight, you felt like getting a little dressy and picked everything with slightly more care, ending up in a satin-type top you’ve tucked into high-waisted pants. it drapes open rather handsomely almost to your belly button—you’ve only done up half the buttons tonight, because you believe sincerely in being god’s gift to women and it’s your duty to parade around with a little skin showing, enough to tantalize. maybe a little slutty, just for fun. you’ve got a few chains hanging around your neck, and some rings on your fingers.

‘oh, i am gay,’ beatrice mutters when she gets a good look at you. ‘sorry - that’s,’

you wave off her apology or whatever she’s going to say, because a compliment is a compliment and that is a damn good compliment, especially coming from her.

‘delighted to be of service, honestly. any time you need reminding.’ you stroll over to greet her properly—not a hug, but an obvious once over, so she can see how much you approve of her look too, and then a tap to her elbow in hello—and she examines you a second time, looking marginally less embarrassed to get caught. this time, her eyes linger on your necklaces; no, your cross.

‘catholic?’

‘born and raised. you?’

she only nods, lips pursed. glancing around, she says, ‘the party is around here?’

‘yeah. oh, yeah, it’s on this street. one minute walk, maybe two.’ she looks a little confused and you admit, ‘i wasn’t sure if you actually wanted to come. i wanted to meet up with you first, make sure you were comfortable.’

rather than being offended, beatrice relaxes. ‘that’s kind of you.’

‘well, i want you to have fun. it will be fun,’ you insist, and start in the direction of luis’s place. ‘i’ll take care of you tonight, i promise—you can drink, if you want, or smoke. no pressure. i’ll stay sober anyway. but what i really want is to introduce you to my friends, i really think you’ll like them.’

‘because we’re all queer?’ beatrice guesses, a note of something odd in her tone. it’s not suspicion, but something akin to it.

‘yeah, sure. i know what it’s like moving to a new place and not knowing anyone, it’s rough. especially for us,’ you say, light on the emphasis but apparent enough that beatrice looks at you again, and nods to herself. ‘but aside from being queer, i just really think you’ll like them. luis is the one hosting tonight. they’re super smart, they’re finishing a phd in anthropology, movement in borderlands—oh, and they will offer you weed every half hour but that’s not you, and you don’t have to accept, it’s just their idea of hospitality.’ beatrice nods very solemnly. you can practically hear the information being locked away in her brain and the image makes you smile. ‘it’s this one, up ahead.’

as promised, the party is pretty chill—low lights, not too packed, good music. it’s a really nice night and there are a few folk standing around on the porch, drinks in hand; when you get in, you’ll probably find most of the guests have spilled out into the back yard. plus, you’re only a few streets back from the beach—based on the last few parties luis has hosted, the beach is where you’ll end up in a few hours.

beatrice stops outside the house, stares in through the open door. she touches two fingers to her wrist. you stand with her, beside her, and part of you aches because you know that there is someone else who should be here, who she wants very badly to be here, and it seems terribly unfair that something this simple - a party, new friends, the distant sound of the ocean - isn't simple at all.

‘all good?’

‘thank you,’ she says, softly. ‘for inviting me. and don’t say you need a wingwoman because i sincerely doubt that.’

you grin. run a hand through your hair in a way that makes you look particularly douchey, according to your ex. ‘thanks. i appreciate that. and no, i don’t need a wingwoman but it can’t hurt... except if the girls hear that accent, actually,’ you say with a thoughtful frown, like it’s only occurring to you now that beatrice is hot. you step in front of her like you’re blocking her way to the house, even as you back up toward the house, the party. ‘this is bad, i’ve made a huge mistake, you gotta go,' you insist, teasingly.

beatrice laughs and follows you in.

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #warrior nun #avatrice #sort of but its also like. a love letter to the butch bea world & the introduction of ray my beloved #i need to read it again & edit before i post it to ao3 but its midnight so here have it before i scream

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thotsforvillainrights · 7 months

Note

OOO IM SO EXCITED THE BOX IS OPENED AGAIN!! I love your writings it always feels like you and horikoshi really have the same brain when it comes to the characters minds!

Can I request some bedroom time with skeptic 🫣

I hope you have an amazing day and your gonna be a great mama💖

[Oh I wouldn't take credit for that one since I do tend to write characters very...out of character most of the time lol. But I appreciate you enjoying my silly content! Let's see if I can finally do some actual smut or if I'm still not ready. Test those waters haha]

[sidenote: thank you, I'm still anxious about parenthood so it means a lot to hear that]

~Romance~

-Tomoyasu Chikazoku Smut-

Romance: a feeling of excitement and mystery associated with love.

It was no secret, anyone could see it. Tomoyasu was by no means a romantic person. I've said it before, and I'll bring it back up again. Even when he'd proposed to you, he'd entered the room and tossed the ring box at you before saying "Let's get married". Although he sobbed at the wedding, he still hadn't managed to find the proper way to romance you without cringing at the thought of it. Roses and candlelight, smooth words and sexy music. Hanabata had given his unsolicited advice a million times over. A lovely dinner, a walk in the park, a horse driven carriage. All lovely advice from his grand commander. Perhaps something simple like playing video games together? Geten added his suggestions. A night out on the town, shopping and eating, passionate love making. Chitose's annoying smirk at the very end had made him shutter. Making love and fucking, what's the difference. Sex is sex yes?

Nonetheless, he finally decided to let himself bare the risk of embarrassment. He took a few pages from the romance book and began setting up the cliché environment when he arrived home before you. He was far from being a good chef, but he managed to follow a basic pasta recipe. He'd taken a link to a rather inappropriate music playlist from Hanabata. He lit a few candles, but not too many. The smoke might set off the fire detectors. He'd even ran by the store and grabbed some new sheets and a blanket set. Not just to romance you but also because it was on the grocery list and he was supposed to had bought it last week. Finally he took a minute to think really hard about the words Chitose spoke earlier. Making love, was there really a difference? Even on your honeymoon he remembered the way he'd taken you. Now that he thinks about it, he hasn't taken his time or went slow with you at all. You never complained but still...

"Tomo?" Your voice rang out as the front door had opened and closed. Why was he freezing up now??? He sat still and listened to the sound of shuffling around. No doubt you were putting away your bag and taking off your shoes. A few more worries started flooding his mind. What if you didn't like it? What if this is too much? What if, what if. "There you are. Is everything okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." You smiled gently at him and took a seat on the bed. "So uh, let me start by saying that I'm really glad you finally got the bedset. I was starting to go crazy sleeping under the old one. And this one is real soft by the way, I love it." You complimented him and he nodded, keeping his eyes to the floor. "Tomo…what's all the stuff for in there?"

"Never mind it, I'll get it all cleaned up." When he went to stand up, you grab his arm and stop him. "Oh no, no way. I smell the spaghetti in the kitchen and there is no way you're trashing it. I'm starving. And anyway, I was just wondering about everything since it's not like you. There's nothing special happening is there?" He was quiet for a moment before turning to finally look at you. "I uh...I just wanted to be romantic for once. It's stupid shit so just disregard it." You chuckle lightly and caress his face with your hand. "I don't think it's stupid. I like it. I mean, I really appreciate it yknow? It's like mixing things up every once in a while. Thank you." You smile warmly at him and lean to kiss him gently (which honestly ends up being slower and longer than you anticipated. "I will say this though..." Your hand trails along his thigh and he's frozen, face turning red slowly. "With the kind of music playing in there, I don't assume you intended to just eat pasta and sleep, hmm?" Like a switch he immediately leaned over you as you ended up with you back on the sheets. He paused for a moment to think this through.

'Slower...'

He carefully moved his hand up your inner thigh and to the hem of your pants. Sure you were confused but the burning need inside far outweighed any confusion in the moment. He was never this gentle. By now you'd be face down in the pillows, ass up while he absolutely ravaged you. He'd just now managed to wiggle your pants and underwear down, the whole time kissing you still a bit rough but sweetly at the same time. He made sure to take his time and let his tongue explore every inch, every crevice in your mouth while his hands made quick work of your clothes and then his as well. He was taking special note of the way his fingers interacted with you, and the way he took just a small moment to service you with his mouth instead of the other way around had you believing something happened and this was not truly the Tomoyasu you knew and loved.

He moved slow, using his tongue to shift motions and evoke deep moans from you. You'd reached down to grip at his hair and pull, making him shake and release a moan of his own. The vibrations did nothing more than lead you further and further into an orgasm all for him. He'd be lying if he wasn't proud of causing it by the way.

He'd also even took his time to let you catch your breath, leaving buttlerfly kisses along your skin until you were finally back down to earth. Yes he was doing his best at being romantic and slow for you but he was still the same as usual too. He'd made sure not to skip his usual filth of spitting on his own cock and stoking it to lube himself up before entering you. However, this time he went in slow and gave you time to adjust. It was a delicious torture for him, and you could tell just by the way he was groaning and shivering slightly as well. He sat still until you started moving your hips indicating you were ready for him to move finally. It took everything in him to not just start drilling into you as usual. His thrusts were steady, slow but choppy and rough at the same time. He remained eye contact for a short period of time, moaning for you and uttering your name all for you. He stared into your eyes and even slipped out a small 'i love you' before leaning down to nip and kiss at your neck. He was close and you knew it from the way he kept gripping at your hips, so hard he would cut into them any minute with those nails of his. "Fuck...please?~" You nodded, feeling your own release on the horizon for the second time tonight.

He spoke your name once more, finishing and trying him best to stop that constant little twitch he gave out every time he came. It was impossible but you didn't mind it. When the both of you regained your composure, he gently rubbed circles into your back and stared up at the ceiling while you lay your head on his chest. "I really do love you by the way. My apologies it's rather difficult for me to show it like most others are able to do so. I am going to do better from now on."

"I never complained about it before Tomo. I love you and I know you have a weird way at showing it but I also never doubted your feelings for me. I love you so don't push yourself out of your boundaries if you don't want to do so. By the way...we need to get up and eat before that spaghetti gets too cold."

#my rating is 4 outta 10 #Im getting back into the flow I think #smut #minors dni #minor dni #skeptic bnha #tomoyasu chikazoku

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lovebvni · 6 months

Note

hey!! shiv here!! you’re so spot on it’s scary really!! i feel like you tapped into my brain for the reading. Let’s break this down!!

1. just be is my motto. When everything fails, i just fall back to this. Nothing to get, nothing to do. Just be. Never fails me. So i’m happy to know i’m on the right path🥹

2. i want my void to be pink in colour🤭 and i have been feeling really good while doing pysch-k?? helps me accept the fact entirely that i’ll enter/wake up in the void.

3. I keep myself entertained lol!!! before i attempt to tap in the void i listen to a bunch of songs to feel light and brush off the nerves and thoughts! sometimes i even like to imagine myself safe cuddled up in bed lol (can u tell i’m deprived of physical touch lol)

4. I’m really shocked how you could see the childhood aspect too cause my earliest memory of my life is my parents fighting and my mom being really upset and i remember the helpless feeling lingering on (cause she’d just look at me and cry when i’d ask her what’s wrong) when i enter the void, i’m not saying i want the perfect parents but just parents that are sort of easy to be around. I really am not my actual self around them. I’m always holding my breath around them. I have accepted the fact that i’m not gonna be one of those kids that have a close and emotionally safe connection w their parents. It’s okay. I just don’t want to feel the need like i’m constantly walking on eggshells around them and my mom to be more independent. These are the tweaks i think you were referring to? i wasn’t thinking about this aspect a lot but i guess during the day, i still have this thought at the back of my mind and maybe that’s why you picked it up?

ALSO TRIGGER WARNING: SA!!

idk if it was this but i was assaulted as a child by one of the family members and i was in two minds if i should revise it! i was bitter for soooo long. Hated men, i even stopped listening to male artists for a while. (it’s so weird but the aftermath of what happened to me as a child is showing up now as an adult) but i am done w all of that. I have made my peace with it and as much as i hate how cliche this is gonna sound but the kind of person i have turned out to be, i wouldn’t want to change it just to be “perfect” so i won’t be revising it. I’m sorry if this upset you or anyone.

I hope i can enter the void soon and share my success story with you (please send good energy my way lol, it’s just the thought that counts really🤭🫶🏼)

Big big love to anyone and everyone reading this and going through just about anything in life. If it’s great then i only hope it’s greater for you and if it’s going absolutely shite then i hope it gets less shittier by the second.

and lastly, i think you are really really good! i would love to support your work (when i can afford it) for real! i have never had such a crazy accurate reading before. So thank you🥹 Hope you’re doing good!!!

hii shiv!!! i’m soooo happy ur reading was accurate n resonated a lot!!

when i first typed the word ‘void’ i saw it as a purple colour, vende why it’s purple in ur reading, then as i went on, the more i thought, he more pink it became. i’m pretty sure i got a visual of it too — it’s so pretty <3 like seriously, if u see me in ur void, im just looking!!!

and with ur sa, there may be something you’re still holding onto with that, or some cleansing that should to be done in ur sacral chakra. as someone who went through something similar, literally js imagining good sexual experiences with someone u love helps…. like a lot 😭😭

and i’m always sending positive energy to everyone i get readings too!! i trust n believe u will enter the void soon and it’s gonna be HELLA fun for u <3 i love u sm!!! have fun!! <3

#abyss .reviews #void state #manifesation #manifesting #manifestations #manifestation #law of manifestation #manifest

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calehenituse-brainrot · 2 years

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Sirmaam when are you gonna release the fwb Cale x reader?I've been waiting for it even since you announced that you'll be making one, I can't help but feel excited 💖💖💖

thank you so much for waiting omg i didn't think someone would actually wait for it.

im tagging @bomiflower because they were the one to push me to give a twist hehe lily, if u see this, i hope you're proud of me.

anyways, i did this while crying because tumblr crashed and deleted the previous draft for this. if it's bad, i blame the tears for blurring my sight.

i also want to clarify that this is based solely on my interpretation of the song being about a relationship where one of them (or perhaps all parties) are aware that what they were having is something toxic and shouldn't be continued, but sometimes things get addicting and you come back for more as if you were drugged.

WARNING : NSFW CONTENT.

Sedated

Cale Henituse | Kim Rok Soo x Reader

Lord we should quit but we love it too much

— "Sedated", Hozier (2014)

Cale had never thought for a second in both his life as Kim Rok Soo and Cale Henituse, that he would ever be in an arrangement like this.

He had always been someone who chased after his earthly desires such as living as a rich slacker, but that was because it was a way for him to enjoy life without getting hurt, physically and emotionally.

A desire to enjoy something without being hurt simultaneously.

But this one. This was an indulgence that would hurt him the most.

Cale felt your legs go limp around his hips and the way your walls throbs around him. He let out a strangled moan when he came into you, squeezing your hips enough that he was sure it'd leave bruises there. He let your hips go as your legs fell to the bed, shaking uncontrollably.

The room smelled of sex and sweat, but Cale had always been able to dull them out and grasp for the smell of soap you had used earlier before coming to this room and as he leaned down to press his lips to yours, he smells the simple fragrant of perfume he had gifted you a few days ago.

He wants nothing to fill his senses but you.

Only you.

This isn't supposed to go on this long, was what his brain was saying to him as you return his kiss with a giggle, still high from your post-orgasm. He should break this kiss, lean away from you, and stop this.

But with you had always been the times Cale never listened to his brain.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging at his red hair as you hummed in the kiss. Cale placed his hand on the back of your neck, pushing you to be closer to him. He craved for your lips as if he was starving and your lips were the only thing that can save him from this insatiable hunger.

And in a way, they are.

"How do you think the others would react if they know that we do this?" You had asked him that question while laying on top of him, breasts pressed against his naked chest. Cale's hand was on your naked back, thumb brushing your flushed skin as he stared at you."It's not something I like to think often."

"Do you feel guilty? For hiding this from them?" You continued asking, hand going up to tuck a lock of Cale's red hair behind his ear. He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch without shame. His hand that was on your back moved to grasp your hand to make sure it stays on his cheek before he brushes his lips against your palm, looked at you through his lashes, and asked; "Do you?"

"A bit," you answered him fully, watching as he placed kisses on your palm. "But it's our business, so I don't think there's a need for them to know. You?"

Cale closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of your hand on his face as if it were the only thing in the world that can provide him comfort. "I was the one who offered you this, so no."

He was the one to initiate this arrangement -- to meet a few times a week in an inn where their room is always cleaned and prepared for them, either to just spend a few minutes sharing kisses and spit or maybe to spend hours as you both poisoned each other that always has Cale always craving for more by the end of it.

But, why?

He hates the fact that he could not contain it - the desire to see you more, to touch you more, and to let you touch him even if it's only a brush his knuckles against yours when you stand too close.

He hates the fact that after spending a night together, you can pass by him and only say a few words to him, talking to him as if you weren't laying underneath him last night. You were so nonchalant to him. As he gave you glances throughout the day, he wished that there will be a time he will look over and see you staring at him as well, but you never did.

He wished your cheeks would flush when his hand brushed against yours just like how your cheeks had reddened when he was pleasuring you, but it never did. You'd always pull your hand away and set a distance as if you were repulsed even by the slightest touch of him.

Don't you just stand there and watch him, [Name].

Come. Come and save him from this punishment the world had placed on him.

You were confusing to him because you had acted like you did not like to be touched by him in front of the others.

When you finally let him touch you, it was in the confines of a parlor room where no one else was there. He sits on the couch as you stand in between his legs, you looking down and caressing his jaw so softly that it could be mistaken as wind. He had tilted his head upwards, russet eyes staring at you as his hands were placed on your hips, not forcing you to stay in place but simply to hold and feel you.

When you brush his hair back, Cale felt like nothing else in the world mattered.

And this feeling was confusing because he had slept with you, fucked you senseless for hours, and yet the feeling of your fingertips running along his jaw was perhaps the best feeling he had ever had the privilege to indulge in.

He was a slave to any semblance of your touch.

Was this something he should hate? Should he hate that he can crumble at any time before you if you merely touched him?

His brain was telling him that this should be something he stops doing. He needs to be wary of these new emerging feelings and not cross the boundaries that he had set for himself when he got into this arrangement with you.

But Cale chose to be deaf.

You numbed his senses by filling them with only you - your touch, your smell, the feeling of your skin, and your voice and he welcomed it with open arms.

But how did the two of you start this?

Cale could not promise that he started it for humble reasons no matter how much he could modify the story.

You had come back from visiting the Naval Base in the Ubarr Territory with a grin on your flushed face. "I talked to Eric. He's really nice."

Cale could see the appeal that Eric Wheelsman had. He was the successor of Count Wheelsman and was the Chief Advisor of the Right for the Naval Base. He was clever and did not judge others from baseless rumors but how they treated him, which was why you had been so easily taken with him because he did not look down on you for your commoner background and instead trusted you with the sole reason that you were one of Cale's people.

It was pathetic for Cale when he realized he was doing to you the same thing you used to do to Eric - sending longing looks, skin flushing when talking together, becoming flustered just at the mention of his name, and becoming a mess at just by the slightest brush of knuckles, accidental or not. He had seen you do all of those to Eric and at the time, he shook his head and smiled in amusement.

But now that he had somehow ended up at the same spot you had once been in, all he does is experience withdrawals that felt like Hell on Earth.

He was addicted to you while for you, it was just a little bit of rush.

He was perhaps something you can let go of at any time - something you used to distract and sedate yourself for momentary bliss.

And in no way does Cale would ever hate you for it.

Back then, Cale had asked Eric what he thought of you and about the thought of starting a relationship, but Eric had been polite in refusing because he could not look at you in that way, which completely crushed your ego to the point that you stayed in your room all day, only allowing Cale to visit you at night.

"Are your feelings that deep for him?" Cale had asked you, sitting beside you on your bed.

You seemed to think before answering and it surprised Cale that you had to think about your own feelings for a moment. You then provided an answer with a bashful grin, "I don't think so, no."

"Then?" Cale was intrigued.

"I think instead of love, all I ever wanted was some sort of validation," you answered him. "That I'm attractive -- desirable, as in sexually."

For a moment, Cale was taken aback at how blunt you had been but then again, you had always been so honest as a woman from this period to the point anyone listening in would have a whiplash.

As he thought about your words, Cale thought that your feelings were understandable. To want to be thought of as sexually appealing was something he wasn't very familiar with, but he does know that it was something some people think of at least once in their lifetime.

"Then? Is there any way you're planning to do to solve that problem?" Cale asked. "I'm sure you're more than aware that a lot of people find you appealing."

"I'm probably going to go to a pub," you told him, standing up from the bed and running a hand through your hair. "Maybe I'll find a man that won't mind sharing a bed with me."

Cale had thought how the culture of one nightstands will always exist no matter which universe he was in. "With a stranger, [Name]? Are you sure?"

"Well, do you have anyone else in mind?"

It was just an offer for a friend.

It was better than having you share your bed with a stranger.

It was better than letting you make it into a habit.

"What about me?" He asked you, his ears beginning to get red and he tries his best to keep his voice flat. "Have you ever thought about sharing your bed with me?"

That was how the two of you ended up like this again, with your back pressed to his chest while he's pressing kisses to your neck, one of his hands raising your leg before pushing his cock into your warm, slippery cunt.

He hears you let out a melodious sigh that only he has the privilege of hearing - he makes sure of it - when he slipped into you. You turn your head to him, kissing him while murmuring something along the lines of "'s good" and "deeper" against his lips. You whispered something when he began to move his hips, Cale silencing your moans by swallowing them along with your spit.

"Keep them up," he murmured to you, squeezing your thigh before he moves his hand to your clit, rubbing it with the pad of his thumb. You let out a whine, moving your head away from him and instead buried your face in the pillow by your head.

"Ahh, hahh."

Cale kissed your neck, thinking of all the time you had so easily pushed him away even though the two of you had chosen each other as an escape - that your teeth and lungs were lined with the scum of the sin of this arrangement. This wasn't right and surely people will judge the two of you if they ever find out, but Cale knew he couldn't let you go just yet.

"Eric, please-"

Cale closed his eyes, biting harshly on your neck upon hearing that name fall from your lips instead of his, reminding him that despite having agreed to give your body to him, you never once promised to give your heart.

It had never been about him using you - he allowed himself to be used by you, to help you forget with the hope that maybe you'd feel the things he feels for you, too.

That one day, you'd crave for him just as much as he craves for you.

"My name, [Name]," Cale pleaded to you, quickening the pace of his hips.

"C-Cale," you sighed, "Please, faster."

He did what you asked for, because who is he to refuse you?

When you writhe in his hold and sob in pleasure, he only held you close and remind you again and again,

"Only I can do this to you."

"Think of me."

"Say my name. Please."

He hoped that with this, maybe the day this bitterness of unrequited love disappear will come sooner.

But for now, Cale was nursing on a poison that never stung.

#cale henituse x reader #trash of the count's family #cale henituse smut #totcf #cale henituse #tcf cale #lout of the count’s family #x reader #lout of count's family

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lesbiansandco · 10 months

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An unstoppable force (madd taking up all of my waking and sometimes half-awake! hours) meets an immovable object (the urge to post about madd on my tumblr blog)

i swear i want to relate to my fellow tumblr madders but to do that i would have to Stop Daydreaming and i am not yet strong enough for that (different madd criteria/madd questions) "how many hours a day do you daydream?" bitch all of them?!?!? except for sleeping but i have chronic insomnia not related to madd but guess what my brain does to fill the insomnia gap? daydream and so i lose time before bed too and the first thing I do when I wake up? daydream i've gotten so good at it too - daydreaming all of the time about anything whatsoever without it showing to other people and that doesn't mean it doesn't impact my life (or else it wouldn't really be madd) but i can hide my struggling so well and even snap out of the daydreaming for just enough time to talk to people/function somewhat normally before being sucked right back in the second its possible im a functioning addict but not for alcohol or other drugs Its Just Madd (and its driving me mad[d]) "avoid your triggers" everythings a trigger. everything. anything could spark a daydream or daydream scenario. I have over 10 different AUs for my current main paracosm bc of shit like this (and yes I can keep track of them. who needs brain function for normal human activities when you have daydreams!). and if there are no triggers around? i'll replay a scene just to watch it again or to go through and make little changes to improve the scene. or create another au. there's no escape and the hard part is: i don't want it to go away. at least not right now. i love my paras and paracosms (well, most of them). but i hope one day my life will get to a point where i don't need to daydream all of the time to escape reality and i can just be an immersive daydreamer and a functional human. but right now? that's not gonna happen. and i'm okay with it. and the worst part: i don't control my daydreams. they're set off by random triggers or boredom and i can't control what i daydream about or when, or for how long. usually its fine, but sometimes i'll daydream something disturbing. or gory/graphic. or generally unpleasant. and these scenes are always extra vivid. and when that happens? i want to stop daydreaming. just for a few hours. a little bit of time. but no. its somehow even harder to snap out of it for a little bit and i have to ride it through. and just for a moment, i hate it. i hate madd. and then it provides an enticing, not horrific escape a while later, and i don't hate it anymore. this wasn't supposed to turn into a rant. for anyone who read it, thanks for listening. may your daydreams (madd or otherwise) be pleasant.

#madd #madd rant #maladaptive daydreaming #actually maladaptive daydreaming #madd problems

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doorsposting · 1 year

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UUMMMMM basically i just recite lyrics from random songs that i think could be applied to doors . enjoy

but i am not afraid of any legends or lores / and i want answers to what might be behind all these doors

knocking and waiting for some sort of reply / it seems there's nobody in here and i want to know why / i can feel a shiver crawling way up my spine / but i know there's something that's waiting at the end of the line

another door, another question / i'm going round in circles, wondering when i'll reach the end / i'm losing the sense of where i am / the hallway's getting longer and all the walls have turned red

now there's only 100 of these spine chilling doors / but i just can't imagine what could be at the end

so many doors, so many questions / my eyes are getting heavy and i just want it to end / im losing my grip on reality / i've seen no one else here and now i fear that i am dead / there's just a few more doors / it won't take me anymore

- 1000 doors, the living tombstone (8/10, awesome song)

stalking hallways, getting closer / got you, now its nearly over / found your blind spot lurking within / sooner or later we'll get in / careful not to waste your power / you've still got to last an hour / i can hear your heart pound heavy / here we come, i hope you're ready

shouldn't have come here to this house of fear / pray that those doors hold steady / as the clock ticks on, you'll pray to reach dawn / can you last (100 doors)?

why'd you come back here? you should have fled, dear / pray that those doors hold steady / you've made it quite far, it's rather bizarre / can you last (100 doors?)

- welcome to freddy's, madame macabre (10/10!! i love this one sm)

you can run, but you can't hide / we'll always seek, we'll always find / you can run, you can't hide / we'll always seek, we'll always find / you can run / you can try / you can run, but you can't hide / you can run / you can try / you can run, but you can't hide

they're laughing while finding / i'm hiding, i'm trying / i feel like she's lying / i feel like i'm dying / she's guiding me quietly / instructing me blindly / afraid of what might be / i feel like i'm dying

i hear a sound (it's prolly just a mouse) / see them in the dark? (only saw a spark) / i know there's someone there (not as far as i'm aware) / why don't you believe me? / maybe you're right (it's just another night) / but i heard a creak (just go back to sleep) / i'm always quick to rage (so go back to your stage) / (wait. now i hear it.) / run.

- you can't hide, CK9C (INFINITY/10 !!!!!! PLEASE LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU LIKE DOORS . IDC IF YOU DONT LIKE FNAF PLS . THE CHORUS SOUNDS LIKE HALT IF YOU LISTEN CLOSE)

i'm waiting for my curtain call / before i storm right through the hall / knock knock, who's there? / are you prepared / to finally meet your doom?

why do you close the door? / come to me with open arms / there's so much we need to explore / i mean no harm

- let me through, CG5 (9/10 i love this song LITERALLY so much its so good)

close my eyes / prepare to die / it could be now / just tell me how / got me feeling like somebody is watching me / sneaking through my hall, i guarantee it

i get confused / my brain it loses all sense of truth / tell me who i'm gonna call when the shadows are stalking me / and watching me, watching me, watching me, watching me

- goosebumps, CG5 (6/10 its a good one!! low rating cus i listened to it too much . lol)

welcome to your office, settle down and take a seat / please pay no attention to the terrifying screams / you should heed the warnings of the voice that's on the phone / tonight you might be by yourself, but you are not alone

- it's me, tryhardninja (7/10, good solid song!! nothing inherently wrong with it i just over listened it)

your heart is pounding and it can't be stopped / you tell yourself you're okay / it's too bad your doors can't be locked / to keep the monsters away

you check behind the door / there's nothing there no more / you should've stayed in bed / you've heard this noise before / you dart across the floor / try not to lose your head

prepare for the horrors / this night will keep repeating over and over / and over / until you make it to the end / they hide round the corners / you better peel your eyes and keep looking over your shoulder / cause you'll never be alone again

first there was one but now there might be three / you turn around just in time / you hear a chuckle and you turn back and see / the closet doors open wide

you look around the space / and see a creepy face / turns out its just your toy / but it seems out of place / you leave it just incase / it might be a decoy

[chorus again]

- never be alone, shadrow (∞/10. PLEASE LISTEN TO THIS SONG I JUST TYPED THE ENTIRE THING. THIS SONG COULD LITERALLY BE DOORS' THEME SONG)

#long post #doorsposting #i just realized just how many fnaf songs are in here #and thats not even all of them #i was gonna add 'this is halloween' bcs i LOVE that song #but literally the entire song fits doors and this post is long enough

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raevenlywrites · 2 years

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Hi Raev, thabks for answering my ask. Even just you being here to listen is really helpful and reminds me there are kind people.

I didn't really know much about RSD but I'm gonna read about it. Even if I don't have it there might be some other helpful tips. I have been wondering for a while if I have ADHD but for some reason my doctor really doesn't think so and won't refer me to her tested just in case. or it could be depression or just lack of sleep. anyway I am struggling and don't know what to do at this point but thanks for listening.

I'm glad I could help, Nonny. Thanks for giving me the chance to share this with you :)

I'll admit a lot of why I've never tried to get a diagnosis is bc doctors tend to be dismissive of anyone asking about ADHD that's not a grade school boy :/ But even if I don't have it, I do find a lot of the coping tactics for ADHD useful, and there's no reason not to use it just bc I don't have a doctor's label, ya know?

I'm also super familiar with depression and sleep deprivation. Do your best to be kind to yourself, and chase those good good brain chemicals where you can find them. Some things I've found helpful towards that end are:

Sleep tracker app: mine is migraine buddy bc Im trying to navigate chronic headaches, but any system that helps remind you to go to bed and gives you trackable data about your sleep might help. On days I feel like shit, I can open my app and see how hard I've been pushing at it helps me be nicer to myself in my internal chatter

Using Aids: Depression, anxiety, and other mental health issues deserve as much respect and aid as spraining an ankle. Giving myself permission to use aids (in my case, chairs in the kitchen when I'm tired but need to cook, tracker apps to remember things my squirrel brain won't, and treating my headphones like the sensory aid they really are) has a two fold benefit: it does what aids are meant to do (lowers the difficulty of a task to what I'm reasonably able to do), and it freed up a lot of energy that went into self hate. Internalized abelism is exhausting; lowering your standards for what makes you "deserving" of using aids is a great step forward to making your life easier on yourself.

Logging the good days: My depression tends to manifest as "nothing has ever felt good and nothing will ever feel good again". It feels like an endless black tunnel, stretching forever forward and back, bleak and inescapable. When I stop feeling like that, it's so easy to see that depression lies. But when I'm in that dark, having proof from the light (I tend to email myself, a single long thread called "mood log") makes it more bearable. Like the RSD, it doesn't make the feelings go away, but it loosens the grips of it, and give me the room to breathe in my own head that gets me through.

I hope this helps, and keep looking for your own answers. Making your head a nice place to live is hard, but worth it :)

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glitter-dean-rights · 2 years

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So, what do ya reckon Orville's SPNsona is(/spn kin)..?

part2: "like who from spn he kins? maybe he's self-inserting into the fic.., does that make sense? Im so serious about this, btw, love ur desktop theme <3"

OKAY FIRST OF ALL this is so far up my alley i cant even begin to process it!!! also hiiiiii thank you this is very sweet i keep fucking up the colors and it needs some emotional support but tyyyyyy <33

i hope ur ready for me to take this SO seriously !!!

i think the question is fair but orville peck like kinda isnt a person? hes the concept of a person like he doesnt exist like he ~does~ and you can figure out stuff from his songs but like also what is he doing what does he want ya know hes kinda like a straw man of audience projections which is ALSO what dean is basically

like they both sorta exist as vessels (lol) for people to like understand or interpret their art where like orville is very much like all about mystery man focus on the emotions and the music and dean is much more like the lens of the story of supernatural like everything (esp in later seasons) is like filtered through how HE feels (a lot of people have said this a lot better than i but they are correct and i am agreeing) so i think there's an obvious parallel there. Also dean would be so horny for cowboy orville sorry not related but its simply true

ok so like i guess the question becomes kinda like two parts for me like 1: what songs lyrics make me go bananasinsanecrazy when applied to supernatural and 2: which aspects of orvilles fake person outlines would different characters of supernatural apply themselves to WHICH is a very fun question to answer so hi gonna answer them both in a way that makes no sense

i think like the like obvious is like hes hot he gets kicked out of bars hes sad he wants to have a home he misses a home that doesnt exist nobody ever sees his real face he knows his way around a truck stop hes lonely hes gay he believes in the imagery of taillights in the distance and like slow dancing in a dusty bar on the side of the road he just wants someone to stay hes full of emotion but you cant tell he wants to be a cowboy he wants to not be attached hes so full of emotion hes gonna burst (also im sorry but "buddy we've got major blues/another suitcase in your hand" like hello "wouldnt it be nice if i could sleep in my own bed/wouldnt it be nice if i could let the dead stay dead/wouldnt it be swell if i could get things off my chest" HELLO sorry im adding question 1 into my answer also if u think too hard about fancy u might get a brain anneurism so dont do that i know its a cover miss reba really did something with that also winds change dead of night god dont even get me started sorry i keep adding to this but listen to blush sometime and think dean thoughts "fishermans son my dad liked to run/cant picture ur face but i know it was pretty" theres SO MANY) very deancoded it must be said

BUT ALSO if u think too hard about castiel and drive me crazy u will get brain worms confirmed also kalahari down "on your daddys farm/you say your afraid, tell me not to frown" unwell BUT THE KICKER if you ever want to lose all ur braincells listen up buddy lets go heres the thing "back on the run/back to the blue/winning is fun/losing is too" roses are falling guaranteed breakdown "the ache inside/the hate/i found a way/to sit and wait/and now i cant/your voice/your face/without a trace/ill wait for you" LIKE HELLO going insane does anyone want anything

idk im sure sam has like feelings and stuff too but ill be honest i dont care asdkjfhsdk (no not really like i love sam my weird little 'maybe theres something fundamentally wrong with me' boy but i have no lyrics that make me want to gnaw on glass like they do with some other people but like turn to hate maybe if u wanna go a little insane "take me back to the time i was yours you were mine/take me back to the world i know" he said i just want to be normal i miss the love of my life im undone "i hope to die" like hello trials arc im trying not to let the sorrow turn to hate i see it) ((could this also be applied to dean yes but we're gonna let sammy keep some personality traits)) (((also must be noted that maybe orville is not the man for sam)))

#im gonna make one of those lyric comparison posts #but listening to this mans tunes and thinking has rendered me unable to do stuff or think #wow crazy #also hiii im so touched that someone wanted to hear my silly little brain throughts #answered #anon im in love with you #mwah #also theres more to say but im posting this #are there other characters in supernatural #maybe #oh wait curse of the blackened eye could also be samcoded

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reidsnose · 3 years

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happy campers

overview: the bau goes on a team building camping trip but reader and spencer spend most of their time together

genre: fluff

a/n: ive been kicking myself for not posting in forever but i think this one is pretty cute! please lmk what yall think :)

masterlist

the stuffy, eight person suv finally rolled to a stop, the overgrown children that call themselves the bau tumbling out as quickly and gracelessly as possible. Morgan and Reid nearing the end of a 2 and a half minute long slap fight that you happened to be caught directly in the middle of. you looked at jj, pleading to make them stop with her mom powers.

"boys behave or ill ground you both," she sighed, going to help out with taking things out of the trunk.

they immediately stopped, muttering under their breath that the other one started it. but before they could start again, Spencer caught a glance at you. you were taking a deep breath, smiling contently, very clearly happy to get some fresh, forest air. despite being in direct sunlight, your smile was far brighter than anything he'd seen in his whole life.

before he knew it he was being snapped out of his daze and asked to help set up the tents. he was really hoping to have a chance to share a tent with you, like you sometimes had done on cases when hotel rooms were scarce. but he knew that almost everyone wanted a spot in your tent because you're that much fun to be around. Penelope would win, obviously, and he would be paired up with morgan again.

he let out a sigh as he finished up pitching one of the tents, pulling the corner and nailing it into the ground. as he did so, something caught his eye: a pink, round, fat little worm crawled out of the dirt.

his attention was now fully on the worm, ecstatic to see it because he had been reading up on worms for a while. he called morgan and hotch over since they were the closest to him, rambling excitedly all hes learned about them so far. he looked up and could see the disinterest behind their polite smiles. his own smile faltered for a second, until he saw you finishing up pitching a tent.

"im gonna go show y/n. shes gonna love this!" spencer giggled, already walking towards you.

"hey kid i dont know if she-" morgan began.

"reid she might not-" hotch started as well.

but he had already reached you, sticking out his hand and revealing the worm. hotch and morgan looked at each other worriedly, concerned that the tiniest rejection from you, even about something as small as a worm, would tear his heart to pieces.

their faces changed from worry to confusion as they watched a wide grin crack on your face.

"oh! a worm!" you exclaimed gleefully.

they observed as you put your hand out and Spencer dropped the worm in your hand. you watched it wriggle around and would occasionally look up and nod along with his rambling, asking questions and listening intently. hotch and morgan were speechless, knowing full well if they offered a girl they liked a worm, she would not have the same reaction.

you and Spencer started walking back over to the tent, where hotch and morgan tried their best to seem busy. you two were laughing, something about putting the worm back where he found it so it gets home safely. if there was ever any doubt that you and Spencer would be the perfect couple, its completely disintegrated now.

you and Spencer were typically joined at the hip, but after the worm encounter, you two were especially inseparable.

the girls went down by the lake to tan while you and Spencer tried to build a hut out of random sticks and logs you found around the forest. and while the guys were fishing on that same lake, Spencer and you were rock skipping, and he was explaining to you the physics behind it. and you were both scaring away any potential fish for rossi, hotch, and morgan to catch. so you two were banished back into the forest for the time being. when the rest of the team came back, you and him were up in a tree, eating some of the snacks they'd packed, talking and laughing and subconsciously leaning into one another. you didn't need to be a profiler to see the signs. you two were head over heels already, even if you guys didn't know it yet.

after a bonfire full of roasted marshmallows and scary stories, laughs and giggles. it was a wonderful, but tiring night and before you knew it you were getting ready for bed, sharing highlights of the day back and fourth with Penelope.

"i'm picking up on a bit of a pattern," she giggled, wiggling her eyebrows.

you wracked your brain, "what pattern?"

"all of your highlights included a certain adorkable genius."

"what? no we just...he's my best friend so we-cause its fun and i just-" you stammered, feeling your face heat up with every passing second.

"relax my love, i was just teasing," she chuckled, turning over to go to sleep.

"yeah i know. goodnight pen."

"goodnight lovely," she sighed, "but give some thought to lover boy."

you chuckled lightly before whispering to yourself, "trust me i have."

you woke up and checked the time, it was 4:47am but you just could not fall asleep. you crawled out of the tent, grabbing your blanket when you felt the cool morning air rush at you. you didn't want to wake anyone, so you made your way over to the little hill that the suv was parked on, stealing the keys from hotch's bag and crossing to the other side that faced east. the sun would be rising soon, it would be nice to watch; you draped your blanket across your shoulders. you heard footsteps coming from behind you, your blood running cold, immediately assuming the worst.

you turned around and were met with Spencer's sleepy smile. his hair stuck up in all directions and he looked perfectly adorable. you had to resist your urge to give in and kiss him right then and there.

"you scared me!" you whispered, trying to stifle a smile.

"im sorry," he giggled, "why are you up?"

"im not sure i just couldnt fall back asleep. why are you up?" you echoed.

"morgan keeps farting."

you and him let out hearty laughs, quickly covering your mouths as to not wake up the rest of the team.

you faced the car for a second, legs growing tired from standing.

"look how pretty the fogged up windows look," you observed, facing back and fourth between the colorful sky and the muggy version reflecting on the suv. you pressed your hand against the window, leaving a print, "so cold!" you chuckled.

spencer put his hand next your handprint, quickly recoiling, "you werent lying," he laughed, shivering a little.

you looked at the two handprints, his comically larger than yours and you couldnt help but smile to yourself.

"do you want some blanket?" you asked, opening your arms.

"i think im too tall," he frowned, "maybe if i crouch?"

"how about," you dangled the keys infront of your face before opening the trunk of the suv, "front row seats to the sunrise and some blanket."

"that sounds perfect," he smiled, begging his body not to redden his cheeks.

you two crawled into the trunk, draping the blanket across both of your shoulders, being pulled together by the small piece of fabric. you two were completely cuddled together, getting maximum warmth from the blanket and each other's body heat. a comfortable silence floated between you, faint bird songs and the others breathing filling it with peace. you felt your eyelids droop, despite the breathtaking rebirth of the sun happing in front of you. spencer was just so comfortable.

he felt the same way, his head falling to rest on top of yours as sleep pulled at his eyes. he yawned lightly, pulling you closer and breathing you in. you smiled. perfectly content.

about an hour later, hotch woke up, searching frantically for his keys. he ran up to check if the suv was still there, only to be met with your sleeping figures in the open trunk, wrapped up tightly in a blanket, smiles on both of your faces despite being asleep. hotch was good at predicting things, he saw scenarios play out fully before they truly began.

he snapped a picture, knowing it would be put to good use in a few years, he smelled a wedding.

spencer and you spent the drive home smiling like a couple of idiots, grins growing wider each time the sun hit the window just right, revealing your handprints.

ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @spenxerslut @violetspoetic @aperrywilliams @b-a-utiful @eevee0722 @srhxpci @reidemandweep @imdefinitelyfloating @random-human-person @gurkiloni @luvspence @calm-and-doctor @ssavanessa22 @singularityjc

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letstalkaboutfandomsbaby · 3 years

Note

i’ll take whatever your thoughts of shigaraki are, chubby/ neutral/ sfw/ nsfw. he’s my trash king

Babe

He's our trash king sksksk i hope this fulfills your Shiggy cravings 💕

Alrighty let's goooo

No but fr he really is just a trash king

Literally the "i'm the trash man" meme personified

Just a skinny lil toothpick nerd dummy dumdum dweeb

Fucking otaku twerp who probably jerks off onto those lil anime figurines

Im being mean, lemme stop bullying him sksksks

Let's be real: he's severely mentally ill

He's def not on meds and his brain is just so fucked up

The result is a depressed boy who can't communicate well and has a lot of anger issues

You'll probs end up being his therapist at the beginning of the relationship

He's not trying to dump all his problems onto you: you're just a really good listener and you're pretty and nice and he can't help but spew out too much information sksksk

Just loses his filter when he's around you and he has no clue why???

You just make him all flustered and mushy and suddenly he's blurting out how he bought Belle Delphine's GamerGirl bath water and—

Basically he ends up embarrassing himself more times than he likes to admit

But it's kinda cute how he gets all red and fumbles with his game controller and pulls his hood over his head to hide so it's not as weird as it sounds skksks

GOING BACK TO HIM BEING MENTALLY ILL

He def jerks off at least once a day to combat his shit mental health, probs more often 2 or 3 times a day bc he's an obsessive gamer and a loner and def has an anime body pillow that he cums on

Listen, I love Tomura dearly, but he's kind of a loser

Literally an incel sksksk

But he's not irredeemable

He was just raised by the internet and so he doesn't know how to be "nice" or "generous" or "how to respect people who aren't like him" so you're gonna have to teach him a couple of things

He's v protective (in a possessive, kind of scary way) but it's still sweet when someone is bothering you and Shiggy steps between the two of you and threatens to dust the jerk messing with you

He gets food delivered constantly and he'll get some food for you too

He always says it's bc he doesn't want to hear you complain about being hungry or that it's just easier to get you both food at the same time, but he's just trying to show that he cares, and since he sucks at communicating this is one of the best ways he can do that

He forces invites you to watch him play video games

Will definitely get you to sit in his lap somehow

Makes some kind of excuse that he can't concentrate unless he's holding his body pillow but it's in the wash no it's not it's hidden under his bed so you have to sit on his lap so he can beat the boss and win this stupid game

So what if he starts breathing heavily and you can feel something poking your ass? Just keep still so he can focus on his goddamn game

He'll reward you by having Kurogiri get your fav dessert or something

Dont ask why he kicks you out of his room after his game and locks the door and blasts his music he's totally not masturbating that would be weird and he's definitely not weird you guys i promise

He's not romantic by any means so dont expect chocolate or flowers or any of that stereotypical bullshit

Like yea he buys you stuff with AFO's credit card but half of it is stuff that HE benefits from

Like he'll buy you cosplay outfits of his favorite characters and take pictures without your knowledge, he's such a fucking whore jesus christ—

It takes a lot of time for him to trust you, but once he does you're STUCK, good luck trying to go anywhere without him, he won't even let you go to the bathroom without following you and waiting outside till you're done

Kind of like a disgruntled kitty cat

Like he definitely relies on you for comfort and basic necessities bc he doesn't know how to take care of himself, but will he ever let you know that? NO

Just a big ole tsundere

Could be cuddled up to you, practically begging you to pet his hair, but he will continue denying his feelings for you

OKAY LET'S GET INTO NSFW TERRITORY

He's so fucking touch-starved, like he needs to be touching you 24/7 or else he'll get really pouty and angry about not being with you

Every time you come back after going off to do whatever, he has to fuck you

Dummy dumdum just missed his baby so bad, like he kept worrying that you'd never come back or maybe you found someone else or what if someone hurt you—

The minute you walk in, completely fine, he drags you off to his bedroom and jackhammers into you for at least thirty minutes just to calm himself down

Has to cockwarm you after you have sex every time, he hates the idea of having to leave your warm tight body and be a leader again

He's so fucking needy all the time jesus christ it's almost annoying but lowkey super cute uwu

You're gonna have a permanent limp bc he fucks you daily and never holds back

Just a needy lil virgin who has waited so long to fuck someone and he's become addicted to you and your body

Lowkey he's a chubby chaser sksksk

Typical tall skinny guy who likes tiny chubby beauties

Wants to be completely smothered by his chubby s/o

PLEASE sit on his face, he wants to suffocate between those thick thighs

He's even needier if you're chubby bc you're like a big teddy bear and provide comfort just by letting him hold you

Once he gets stronger and creates the paranormal liberation front, he turns into a sugar daddy of sorts

Yea, he was sorta wimpy and annoying when yall first started going out, but now he's got money and can literally do whatever he wants SOOOOOOOO he's gonna treat you like royalty

So you're gonna be showered with gifts you dont even want bc thanks to AFO giving him everything except love and a stable home his love language is receiving gifts, so he's buying you so much shit to prove he loves you

At some point you'll sit down with him and explain that you don't need all of these things, you love him for him not what he can give you and that's never gonna change

WHEN I TELL YOU THIS DUMB LIL BOY JUST MELTS INTO YOU AND IS ON THE VERGE OF TEARS

He'll cuddle up to you the rest of the day, refusing to let you spend time without him

Although Shiggy's fucked up and emotionally unstable, i think he would be soft and kind with his s/o bc they're one of the only good things in his life and he just can't lose you 🥺

#ask #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #gn reader #chubby reader #just a lil bit sksksk #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki #☀️ fics #☀️ asks

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beomglocks · 3 years

Text

better ; c.yj

summary : you deserve better

pairing : ex-boyfriend/mafia leader!yeonjun x reader

warnings & other : angst, mention of trauma, stalking and kidnapping, yeonjun breaks into your house, refer to picture for visual, i saw this edit on ig and now my mind has fuel, listen to better by WOOGIE.

w/c : ???

---

the sunlight peeks through your shades and onto your face, causing you to stir in your sleep. you squeeze your eyes tightly shut hoping your brain can trick itself into sleeping for just a couple more hours longer.

it works for a couple of seconds. closing your eyes tight may have tricked your brain into thinking it was still dark enough to indulge in more sleep.

you sigh peacefully, hoping to get back to your previous dream but you're cut off by the sound of a door being slammed shut.

you open your eyes but remain in bed. it had to be around 7am at least which means no one should be in your house. well, no one should be in your house period. if it was a robber, they sure do work early.

you get out of bed, not caring about your lack of proper clothes because if you were gonna die, what's the point? you take careful steps toward your kitchen to make sure you don't alert whoever may be in there.

the sound of things being moved around and frustrated groans grows louder the closer you get to the room. you grab your nearby safety bat from a corner in your hallway and bring it above your head to swing.

when you come into the line of sight of the intruder in your house you halt yourself from swinging and bring the bat down to your side, the person not realizing yet that you're there.

anger bubbles inside of you at the sight of the sleeve of tattoos and dark head of hair that you recognize all too well.

"what the fuck are you doing in my house yeonjun?"

the boy in question seemingly pays no mind to your question and simply continues rummaging through your fridge and cupboards. "where the hell do you keep your peanut butter?"

you cross your arms at him. "i asked you a question."

"so did i," he retorts. you roll your eyes at him. "you're in my house ass hole, in case you forgot."

he subtly rolls his eyes away from your line of sight and stands up from the fridge. now that he's seen you, his eyes linger on your body for longer than you're ok with. he leans back on your counter with a smile, a visible change in his demeanor, "good morning."

"answer my question," you frown. he sighs, "we got busted and i needed a place to crash."

"yeonjun!" you exasperate. "what? i slept on the couch out of respect for you," he raises his eyebrow, taking a bite out of his slice of dry bread.

"what the fuck do you want me to do, thank you? i told you not to involve me in your mafia gang whatever shit anymore and you go and do this," you gesture to the mess on your countertop.

"yeonjun you're the only other person here! what's with all this shit on my table?!" he continues eating nonchalantly as you scold him and try to clean up as best as you can.

"can you calm down," he sighs. he takes another bite of bread before placing the plate on top of a random box of pizza. "no one saw me come here, you'll be fine."

you continue cleaning, without saying a word to him. you feel like if you open your mouth you'll explode. you clench your teeth as you watch him look through your fridge again out of the corner of your eye.

it's been months since you last saw him and this is the first thing he does. from the counter, you have a pretty good view of his back as he looks through the fridge.

even though you hate him, your mind wanders back in time when that same back would be littered with your marks and scratches. the neck tattoo that would be colored with hickeys he would proudly wear is now bare and untouched.

your eyes go up to his head which thankfully is still turned away from you. the pink mullet he used to rock is now a dark undercut with hints of red. it looks good on him, you have to admit. his ears have more piercings than you remember and you hold back a smile thinking about the time when you would play with his ears and he would tell you to stop.

"you're awfully quiet, what're you thinking about?" he asks, still facing the fridge. you have to remember your relationship with the mafia leader ended months ago, whatever feelings that were present right now were most likely your heart missing human interaction.

"thinking about how i want you out of my house," you mumble, picking up a half empty cup of ramen. he sighs, standing up and fixing his messy hair.

"i said i was sorry," he leans back on the fridge, watching you clean. you bite your tongue, picking up the empty pizza box and tossing it in the trash. "sorry doesn't make up for trauma yeonjun, that's what you don't understand," you say quietly.

"if i knew that would happen to you i wouldn't have left you alone, you know i would've had soobin or taehyun be around you 24/7!" he reasons.

"well you didn't," you breathe out. you give him a tight lipped smile and for the first time in months he's reminded of the pain he saw in you eyes when they brought you back.

"you decided drugs and money were more important than your fucking girlfriend that you love "oh-so-much" getting stalked and kidnapped."

“that’s not tr-“ “that’s what it felt like!” you place an empty soda bottle on the table. he blinks at your outburst. in all the time you’ve spent together, you were never one to lash out even when he annoyed you to no end.

he stares at you for a moment before closing his eyes and biting the inside of his cheek in frustration. "y/n," he sighs angrily.

"even after i killed them all? it wasn't enough for you! you still left me," he steps closer to you and you unconsciously step back. you recognized this tone on yeonjun but he never used it on you. it's gravely and deep and on the rare occasion that you did hear it, the outcome was never good.

"yeonjun..."

"no, look- i know what happened to you was fucked up but i tried my best! it still wasn't enough- you still left and didn't even tell me.." he chuckles at this. "do you know how long it took to find this fucking place?"

you look down, suddenly feeling small. any bravery you had has now dissipated. it's like your mind and body were so used to yeonjun that you just knew when to submit.

"you were my only sense of normalcy in that place," he mumbles. "sure i've got the boys but they're not you.."

his head is hung low, making his hair cover his eyes. your first instinct would've been to run into his arms and pepper him in kisses. endless strings of 'i love you' to reassure both of you that what happened wasn't either of your faults.

you bite your lip, "is that why all this food is like this..."

he doesn't move from his spot. "im sorry, i miss you." you almost feel your heart break. you hate seeing yeonjun so messed up about something that he just eats to forget because it's his only other form of happiness, well apart from you.

you walk up to him, bringing your arms around his slim frame. at first, he doesn't hug you back since he wasn't expecting that but soon enough he engulfs you as if he's been touch starved for ages.

"im sorry, please come back to me? i'll do better, i promise you won't get hurt anymore hm?" he sounds hopeful and it makes you close your eyes.

"you need to leave," you say quietly. you feel him hug you tighter as he places his chin on your head. "please let me stay with you," he pleads.

you force yourself to step away from him which takes a lot more effort than you thought. you look up at his face and he looks so broken. it’s rare to see a mafia leader look this vulnerable but yeonjun opens himself up to you like this at times and you feel lucky, in a weird way.

he watches you expectantly, waiting for your answer. “yeonjun i just- i don’t feel safe around you anymore.”

you swear you see his heart shatter right in front of your face.

you want to hit yourself but it’s true. where you once felt peace you only feel fear. maybe once upon a time yeonjun was like your savior but now he brings pain, especially with the type of work he does.

he looks down, biting his lip. you can tell he's trying to act like what you said didn't just tear a hole straight through his heart. "you know i'll still watch over you and keep you safe," he promises.

you smile lightly at him, glad that he hasn't completely given up. "i know." he wastes no time stealing a kiss on your forehead, quickly moving away before you can complain or push him away.

"you still fucked up my kitchen though," you say when he starts walking away to your door. he only shrugs as you watch him walk out your door and out onto the streets.

you can only sigh, hoping he'll be safe until he can get his base back.

#yeonjun imagines #yeonjun reactions #yeonjun drabbles #yeonjun angst #yeonjun drabble #txt imagines #drabble #tomorrow x together imagines #txt headcannons #yeonjun headcannons #txt reactions #txt scenarios #yeonjun timestamps #yeonjun fic #yeonjun x reader #angst

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katyasrussianaccent · 3 years

Text

you’re so golden (corpse x reader)

Summary: You’re a faceless youtuber that sings cover songs. What happens when a certain faceless streamer slides into your DMs after you cover one of his songs?

Authors note: Part 3 whoop! I havent written fic in 3 years so Im hoping this is okay. Its about 4000 words, super long, sorry. I also dont play Among Us, but hopefully its not too obvious. Lemme know what you think!

You're nervous, though you aren’t quite sure why. The kind of nervousness that spreads to your feet, causing you to tap your toes against the side of your sofa.

Call you in 15.

You look at the message again, staring at it till the screen goes blurry. Rubbing your eyes you exhale into the emptiness of your apartment; a feeble attempt at calming yourself down.

Logically it’s stupid to be nervous over a phone call. Logically you know that in the grand scheme of the universe, there are bigger things at hand. But you’re not a logical person, never have been. You’re all heart and emotion, both a blessing and a curse. There’s something intimate about a phone call, to have nothing but someone’s voice on the other end of the phone, talking to you and only you. It was a little scary; to think your purely online friendship with Corpse was going to be taken to a different level. You’re excited to think what that could mean.

“Fucking get it together,” you mutter to no-one as you exhale again, because there’s nothing else to do other than to wait and try to breath. There’s this frantic energy about you; like when you eat fizzy sweets, the flavour buzzing on your tongue. Your ancestors used to hunt wolves and here you were nervous over a single phone call.

The silence in your apartment’s too much now; too noisy. You grab your TV remote, clicking onto Spotify to find something. You’re scrolling so much, none of the artists feeling quite right for the moment before settling on Sufjan Stevens.

The dulcet tones fill the space, and for a brief second, you feel fine. You’re feeling relaxed and then your phone lights up.

Incoming Facetime Audio

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck” you say. Your face feels warm, your heart quickens in your chest. You could just ignore it, say you’re not feeling too good and that would be that, you wouldn’t have to do this. But it’s Corpse, you like Corpse and you’re kind of friends.

You swipe to accept the call, and press the button for speaker.

“Hey,” you say, cringing at the meek tone your voice has taken on.

“Hey,” Corpse’s deep voice rumbles through your tiny speaker, distorting slightly and you press the volume button to turn it down a little.

There’s a beat of silence, a beat too long, and you already hate how awkward this is. You’re not great at social stuff, the concept of being a social butterfly is almost foreign to you. And it’s not because you dislike people, it’s just you hate this; the small talk, the awkwardness before you get comfortable and can hold an actual conversation.

You suddenly remember a tip from your customer service days. “How are you?” you ask, plastering on a grin so wide that it must look borderline demented. Thank god you’re single.

“I’m okay thanks, how are you?” he asks.

You lounge back against the soft cushions of the sofa, lifting the phone up to your mouth as you do so. “I’m good, excited to be taught by the Among Us master.”

He snorts in disdain. “Hardly a master.”

You chew your lip before you speak again, “I dunno, people on the internet think you’re pretty good.”

He snorts again, and you smile at the sound. It’s not something you’ve heard from him before, through your hours of watching his streams, you’ve become accustomed to his voice and the noises he makes. But this one seems to be new. And maybe it’s the weird, selfish part of you that likes to think he’s only ever made that sound for you. You shake the thought out of your head, because really? Getting happy over a snort is really such a ridiculous thing to do.

“People on the internet say a lot of things.”

“True, but sometimes they speak the truth,” you reply, moving to get more comfortable; tucking your feet under your thighs. You wonder what he’s doing right now as he talks to you, is he sitting down? Or is he lying on his bed; his head propped up with pillows? There’s a brief flash of yearning, of wanting to be there in the same room as him, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared so you ignore it.

“Hm. We’ll agree to disagree.”

“Okay, you’re the boss Mr Husband.”

He chuckles softly, and again, you smile. You can feel yourself getting annoyed with yourself; you’re acting like a child with a crush; smiling at the phone. All you needed now was a notebook that had Mrs YN Husband written all over it.

“You know if you keep calling me that, we’re gonna have to get married,” he says, his voice a little lower than it was before. You blink and cock your head to the side, looking at an imaginary camera like you’re in The Office. Did you say that out loud? Is he...flirting with you? Sure, you’re flirty over Twitter, but it’s Twitter, Twitter isn’t real. There’s a fluttery feeling in your stomach at the mere prospect that he might actually be flirting with you.

“I’d be the best wife you could ever get,” you shoot back. There’s a brief second of silence before he answers, and you can hear shuffling on the other end. You want to ask what he’s doing, but you know it would break the conversation, and you’re curious to see where this goes.

“Oh really? And why’s that?” he asks, and you can picture the smirk in his voice. You have no idea what he looks like, no real care about it either, but you bet he’s got a beautiful smile. You bite your tongue before it tells him this, for once your brain actually works and stops you from making a fool out of yourself. It’s incredibly strange, how quickly he puts you at ease without a try, he’s just so naturally comforting. He’s not this flashy persona, he’s just a guy who likes to play video games and happens to be kinda good at them. And also has a voice that is literally like chocolate. Not just chocolate; dark chocolate. If dark chocolate could talk, it would sound like Corpse.

“Cos your girl can cook,” you say proudly, puffing out your chest a little. And that’s not a lie, you can cook. Okay, you’re not a Michelin starred chef, but you feel quite confident in the fact that Gordon Ramsey could eat your food, and probably (hopefully) wouldn’t scream that it was “fucking raw”.

“And what would you cook for me?” he asks.

You hum in thought for a second. “You’ll have to marry me first to find that out.”

He laughs, a proper laugh that settles in your stomach, spreading warmth through your chest. “I’ll think about it. I can hear music, what are you listening to?”

You straighten up a little, the question catching you off guard. You bite the inside of your cheek as you look at the song that’s playing. It’s not his type of music, you’re almost positive about that. You almost don’t want to tell him out of embarrassment. You’re not sure why you feel embarrassed; you know Corpse isn’t an asshole, he wouldn’t make fun of you. But music is so personal to you, so personal, it’s like baring a piece of your soul; which sounds so fucking cliche, but it’s true.

“Uhhh...It’s called Make out in My Car by Sufjan Stevens,” you reply.

He hums in affirmation. “It sounds nice; from what I can hear.”

“I can turn it up?” you ask, leaning forward to grab the remote off the coffee table.

“You could always sing some for me,” he offers.

You laugh a little, scrunching up your nose. “And why would I do that?”

“I thought you wanted to get married. You have to woo me,” he replies.

“Woo you?” you ask, your tone incredulous. This isn’t how you pictured the conversation going.

“Yeah. Woo me, yn.” he says, dragging out the “o” causing you to laugh again.

You sigh dramatically. “I haven’t warmed up or anything, it’s gonna sound so bad” you warn as you put the song to the beginning.

“I’m sure you sound great. Go ahead, woo me.”

You shake your head as you softly sing. “I'm not trying to go to bed with you, I just wanna make out in my car. And though I'm dying to fall in love with you, I just wanna make out in my car”. You stop and you’re suddenly very aware that you have essentially just serenaded him. Good going, brain.

It’s silent for a beat too long, and the smile that graced your lips starts to fade as the embarrassment starts to set in.

“Well now we definitely have to get married,” he affirms. And there’s that fluttery feeling again.

You swallow, moving the conversation swiftly onto Among Us. You grab your laptop that was next to you, humming in acknowledgement as he walks you through downloading it.

“So there’s a few of us joining us tonight, it should be really fun.”

“Oh. It’s not just us two?” you ask. You focus on the download, watching the number increase. You’re nervous at the prospect of playing with other people, strangers, for the first time.

“No, it’s a 4 player minimum. We’re going to stream as well.”

“Corpse…” you start. You begin to pick at the skin around your nails, a habit you do whenever you get really anxious. This was meant to just be a cute moment where you learnt how to play a game, not a big event where people would be actually watching you, judging your every move.

“We’re going to do a few games off stream with you, you don’t need to be there for the stream after if you don’t want to,” he interrupts.

“Okay,” you trail off, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip. You feel a little better, but not by much. You didn’t know who the other people were, what if they hated you? You ask this out loud.

“I’ll be there. You know Rae and Sykkuno. Felix, Sean and Toast will be there but they’re super nice, I promise.” His voice is sincere, and it soothes you. You don’t know him, not really know him, but you trust Corpse. You know he has his own struggles, and you believe his promise; he wouldn’t screw you over or put you in a situation you were uncomfortable with.

The rest of the call is him taking you through how to play and how to set up something called Proximity Chat so everyone can talk to each other in the game. He says it’s easier once you actually play, and it doesn’t sound particularly hard quite honestly, you just hope you don’t get imposter on the first try because you’re not the greatest liar.

The game screen pops up, and you type in the code that Corpse gives you. You say goodbye to Corpse, who tells you to text him if you need any help. You drop into the game lobby, and you look at the little astronaut. There’s no time to dwell as a cacophony of voices hits you.

“YN!” Rae screeches and you chuckle at her enthusiasm. You’ve known Rae for a few years now, you met at college and had become fast friends. Though you had many different interests - gaming for one, you considered her your best friend. Rae was the type of friend where you didn’t need to talk every single day, you could message her a week later and it would be like no time had passed at all. And you loved that, sometimes you just didn’t want to talk to anyone. Sometimes your mood wasn’t the best, and you needed a little time to recharge. And she understood that, something that you were eternally grateful for.

“Raebies!” you screech back, using your “pet” name for her.

“I’ve been trying to get you to play forever. But Mr Smooth Operator over there slides into your DMs and suddenly you’re a gamer now?”

“It sounds so sordid when you say it like that,” you reply.

“Hi yn! Glad to see you playing with us,” Sykkuno says. You greet him and the others, making sure to say hi to everyone in the game. You didn’t want to start off by being accidentally rude. You listen as everyone talks amongst each other, and you talk when spoken to, but you aren’t interjecting. It wasn’t anything against the other players, it was just a little overwhelming, and you were figuring out what everyone was like.

“Hello,” Corpse’s voice interrupts your train of thought and you greet him along with everyone else.

“Aw, I wanted purple,” you say, frowning at Corpse’s name above the astronaut.

“We can switch,” he replies.

“No it’s o -” you start to speak before you realise he’s already switched to white. “Thank you, you didn’t have to.” You smile as you switch to purple, and you decide to add a flower for a little pizzazz.

“It’s your first game, I’ll kill you if I get imposter so it’ll even out,” he jokes and everyone laughs. The countdown begins and you puff your cheeks out, exhaling as it gets to 1. You’re nervous again, a seemingly common theme of the night. Your shoulders relax as the word CREWMATE flashes across the screen.

You watch as everyone but Corpse disperses from the cafeteria with haste, and you look at the keyboard to press the buttons to move.

“You ever see an old person text? That’s how I’m picturing you right now,” Corpse says as you walk together to Weapons.

“Shut up Sonny,” you reply in your best old woman voice, getting a laugh. You open up the task, shooting the Asteroids with ease. “Yay, I completed a task!”

“Good job,” Corpse replies, and you beam at the praise. You move down to o2, doing your task while Corpse does his.

“Wait, you could be imposter right? How would I know?” you ask as you walk together to Navigation.

“You wouldn’t, you just have to trust me,” he says, his voice full of charm.

You scowl. “Well that just makes me not want to trust you.”

Before he replies, there’s a blaring alarm. DEAD BODY REPORTED. You blink at the suddenness; you were really enjoying the relaxing pace of the game. You look at the screen; Felix has been killed.

“Who found the body?” Corpse asks.

“I did,” Rae answers. “I was in admin, and was going to lower engine and it was there in storage.”

“If you were in admin, why didn’t you go up through Cafeteria?” Toast asks.

“Because it’s quicker to go through storage,” Rae replies. They argue between themselves, and you listen intently and silently. It’s a lot of information, you can’t tell whose lying, but you guess that’s what makes a good player.

“Where were you yn?” Sean quizzes, and it takes you a second to realise you’re being spoken to.

“Oh. I was in um o2?”

“You don’t sound too sure there, pretty sus,” he says. Your face heats up a little, you’re not the imposter, but it feels like you are.

“She was in o2 and then we went to Navigation,” Corpse answers, and you breathe out as he takes on the interrogation.

“Oh you were together?” Rae asks, and you know that tone she’s got. It’s the tone that says she’ll be messaging you right away.

“Well yeah, it’s her first game, I’m not gonna leave her alone,” he says and you smile at that.

“Yeah we’ve been together the whole time,” you add and it’s left at that. No-one votes anyone out, since no-ones really too suspicious. You carry on the game, and you find yourself really enjoying it, though the questioning part is kind of stressful. You can see why Corpse likes it so much, it’s really fun. You’re in electrical, humming as you do your task when Rae comes next to you.

“Hey,” you greet her.

“I’m sorry, nothing personal,” she replies. Before you have a chance to say a word, she kills you and you look on in shock as your ghost floats above your body. You listen into the meeting as Rae continues to lie and plead her case. She’s good, but Corpse knows better.

“Wait, you said you found her in electrical and you were where?”

“I was in Upper Engine, and then I went to electrical to do my task,” Rae answers, her voice even and calm.

“I was in Lower Engine, and I didn’t see you,” Corpse says, and you grin at the fact Rae’s been found out. That’s what she gets for killing you.

“You were doing your task, I passed right by you,” Rae starts. She pleads her case, but it’s too late and she’s voted out.

“That was so much fun!” you declare. “I can see why you guys play it all the time.”

“Yes! We have converted another!” Felix shouts in victory.

“And all it took was Corpse,” Rae mutters sarcastically.

“Don’t get bitter Rachel, just get better,” you reply, causing the group to laugh.

You get the hang of it after a few games, and find yourself agreeing to stay while the others stream, though you decide against it yourself. You’ve only streamed once by yourself, and it was a very casual affair and you don’t want to feel too much pressure while you enjoy yourself. You know that Corpse gets nervous when he streams and he’s been doing it for so much longer, so you can only imagine how nervous you would be.

You tap your fingernails against the keyboard as the lobby counts down, any previous nerves have been replaced with excitement.

IMPOSTER flashes across. You’re the only one, your astronaut looks lonely on the screen by itself, and the red letters almost taunt you.

“Shit,” you mutter as your brain goes into overdrive. What was it Corpse had said before? Not to be too obvious. You don’t kill immediately, instead going at your previous pace to not look too suspicious. You were still fairly new to the game, and you were going to use that to your advantage.

You fake your task in Cafeteria before venting over to Navigation where Toast was.

“Hi Toast!” you greet, coming to stand next to him as you pretend you’re doing the task.

“Oh hey yn,” he says. It doesn’t seem like he suspects you, and you’re not quite sure when to click the Kill button. You do it anyway before running out and going down and into shields. There’s adrenaline running through you as the dead body’s reported and you crack your knuckles before putting on your game face. You were going to play dumb, play the confused newbie - because to them, that’s what you were.

“YN, where were you?” Corpse asks. Fuck. Maybe you weren’t going to get away with this.

You twiddle your hair as you draw out your words, playing the role perfectly. “Uhm I was in...shields? I think that’s what it’s called. I was in the cafeteria before that though.”

“Wait, you couldn’t have, I was in weapons. I would have seen you,” Sykkuno says.

You open your mouth to talk. “She could have vented,” Felix comments, and the rest of the group starts to agree.

“Guys, I don’t even know what venting is. I literally just started playing,” you point out, giggling.

“That’s true,” Rae agrees and you knew there was a reason you loved her.

“Bullshit! She’s playing you with her “oh I don’t know how to play” schtick,” Felix proclaims.

“Aw, that’s kind of rude, Felix. I’m just enjoying the game, doing the tasks,” you say, pouting a little. He’s the next on your list.

Everyone skips the vote and you lean over your laptop, ready for the next round. You were going to win this. You kill Rae and Toast next, and yet again, manage to worm your way out of any suspicion. You can sense that Corpse and Felix are starting to get suspicious of you, and you know you need to bring out the big guns to throw them off.

You catch Sykkuno in Med Bay after checking the cams in Security.

“Hi yn!” he greets, and you almost feel guilty as you kill him. He’s so sweet and innocent, but unfortunately, casualties are a given. You pass Felix as he comes out of reactor and it’s only a matter of time before you’ll have to talk your way out of this one again.

“I passed yn as I came out of reactor,” Felix shouts with a hint of glee.

You roll your eyes; this is going to be tough. “Yeah I came from Upper Engine, I was finishing part 2 of a task.”

“I was in Electrical, where was the body?” Corpse asks.

“Med Bay. And the only one that could’ve been there was yn,” Felix starts.

“Well no, you could have passed me and killed Sykkuno then self reported,” you reply. “I think you can do that right?”

Corpse hums in agreement. “Oh come on! She’s being really sus,” Felix argues.

“You are being a little sus yn,” Corpse comments.

“Corpse. You don’t really think it’s me do you?” You decide to lower your voice a little, your tone sweet but sultry. “You only taught me like an hour ago, there’s no way I’d be able to fool everybody so quickly.” You get close to the mic so it’s like you’re speaking only to Corpse. “Remember what I said? You’re a master at this.” You’re laying it on thick, and for a brief second you think you’ve been too over the top.

“This is difficult,” Corpse says, and you see the seconds count down, your heartbeat starts to quicken.

“Corpse, stop being a fucking simp and vote her out!” Felix demands.

“Corpsie baby,” you drawl out and you smile in success as you hear him sigh, almost shakily. You’ve got this in the bag. The victory screen flashes up and you cheer.

“Fuck yeah!” you shout, patting yourself on the back. You laugh as you exhale the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Good game yn!” Sykkuno comments, the others agreeing.

“Not fair, you used your womanly wiles against Corpse,” Felix says.

“Gotta use them for something. Not my fault Corpse knows where his allegiance lies,” you reply laughing a little.

You stretch, your back crying out in pain from being hunched over so long. You let out a long, loud moan of relief as you straighten your spine, your shoulders relaxing as you move from side to side.

“Your mic’s not muted” Corpse points out, clearing his throat. You feel your stomach drop and your face instantly becomes hot. Shit.

“Oh. Uh. I totally forgot about that,” you say, forcing out a chuckle. You screw your eyes shut, any happiness has been now replaced by red hot shame. “So this was fun, uh, really fun, but um, I’m gonna, I’m gonna go. So...yeah. Bye guys, have fun!”

You click to exit without giving anyone a chance to say a word, and drop your head into your hands.

“Can’t wait to see what they say on Twitter about this,” you mutter into your hands.

TAGLIST (if youre bold, it wont let me tag): @teenageguitarist @fanworrior @cherry-piee @mirahg @clara-bee @cookinglovingalien @vir-tual @clubfairy @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @more-like-reyna @boiled-onionrings @moneybagmgk @brendalopez99 @delicateavenuenacho @dreamsofficialwife @hydrate-tion @little-red02

#my fic #corpse husband x reader #corpse #corpse husband #corpse husband/reader #corpse husband fic #corpse husband x yn #corpse x you #corpse husband x you #corpse x fem reader #corpse x reader #corpse fic #corpse smau #corpse imagine

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warmau · 3 years

Text

how you end up here, you don’t know, but you blame johnny suh because when things get weird it’s usually his fault anyway

johnny’s smile is a thousand and one watts - he reaches out to pass you the beat up guitar case and again, you don’t even take it by choice, it’s nudged into your hands before you can really even say a word

“im not joining your band.”

“it’s not mine - it’s ours.”

jungwoo twirls a drum stick between his fingers and grins from his spot on the garage couch

“no johnny - we all know it’s yours.”

your lips thin and the only reason you don’t fling the case to the floor is because you actually like the guitar that’s inside.

granted you haven’t seen it since middle school and it probably still has that horrible sticker on the back of it that you remember picking at until all the little pieces you got off were uncomfortably stuck under your nails.

“guys - it’s summer. we have nothing better to do.”

“says you, i got an engineering internship at samsung.”

jungwoo chirps again and you try not to roll your eyes

we all know about the damn samsung internship dude.

“yeah - and i have to work at the family bookstore.”

mark lee walks in, holding as many redbulls as he can fit between his elbows, they spill out and onto the space beside jungwoo

you listen to mark open one and johnny groan

“ok you all have something to do, but we-” he motions behind him at you “don’t have anything to save us from the boredom that is about to take up two months of our youthful lives!”

“hey-”

you cut in and all three sets of eyes focus on you

“i have something i want to do this summer.”

johnny’s long figure straightens in anticipation while jungwoo cocks an eyebrow and mark gives you an encouraging smile

“im not going to tell you what it is, but it’s definitely not starting a band with you guys.”

you lean the guitar case against a nearby wall and add a half-hearted shrug

“sorry.”

the walk from johnny’s house to yours isn’t long, it takes about fifteen minutes if you’re really going slow.

plus you’ve done it so many times, you basically set your body to autopilot.

you think about it - the thing you want to do this summer before you go away for university and home becomes a new place and a memory at the same time.

you’re not known for being sentimental, johnny has even gone so far as to label you as a bit ‘apathetic’ . but still you know this is your last chance to really enjoy the place you grew up in.

you turn the corner at the street that leads down to where you live and in the hot evening air you hear something

it’s the sound of a bike, the pedaling is light but the frame must be old because it creaks a little when it slows down slightly to maneuver to the left and pass you.

you look up and see a boy

brown hair still wet from the pool or a shower maybe, dimples at the corners of his smile, the two sizes too big white shirt fluttering behind him in the breeze

for what seems like longer than a second - you lock eyes - his match the color of autumn leaves and teddy bear fur

and for some weird reason can’t stop thinking about them even well after you get back home

is he new in town? i’ve never seen him before?

finally managing to shake off the curiosity, you fish the shoebox you’ve been keeping under your bed out and open it.

inside there’s only three things so far:

a copy of your graduation photo, a copy of johnny’s graduation photo, and the prom invite ticket that has jungwoo’s chicken scrawl on the back (he was technically your date, because johnny got proportioned by half the seniors and mark was too nervous to ask if you’d take him)

this is what you were talking about. this is what you want to spend summer doing.

you want to spend it remembering, gathering fragments of your life so far in your hometown with your bestfriends, so that when you move on you have a tangible piece of the memories

the reason you were keeping it a secret though was because.....even you had to admit.......this was a little much

and you had built yourself a little bit of a hard shell so imagining telling the people you knew that this was your summer plan

well, you could already hear johnny’s voice saying something like ‘hey, this isn’t a hallmark movie you sap and facetime exists. do you think im not gonna call you at 3 am from across the country like i do now anyway?’

you close the box and tap your fingers on the top.

tomorrow, i’ll start visiting all the important places.

your phone pings and it sound echoes through the otherwise empty library.

a harsh shushing sound comes from the front desk and you quickly answer it, sliding down against one of the bookcases

you’d come here to see if you could find that old series you loved as a kid, the magic treehouse, it’s the books you and johnny fought over when you first met each other years ago

you abandon that though because poor mark sounds like he’s having a panic attack over the phone

“hey, you need to get over here - johnny is holding auditions for a guitarist since you said you didn’t want to do the band”

“ok, so what? it’s just auditions?”

mark’s pleading gets louder, “it’s auditions with JOHNNY - he thinks this is eurovision or something i don’t know please i can’t reign him in and jungwoo’s at his internship - i am dying here!”

you sigh, making it long so mark knows how annoyed you are

“put him on.”

mark’s voice drowns and johnny takes the phone from him

“what did i say with conspiring with them? we are shunning them for quitting on the band! what do you mean you had no other options? what do you mean my egomania is coming out? - anyway hey whats up?”

“stop torturing mark and all the poor kids that showed up to audition.”

“first of all, im not torturing anyone. that would be illegal and distasteful, im just giving my constructive criticism. second of all, if you want to give orders like that then let’s make this a fare trade off. come over and help me judge - i mean hold the auditions and then i will cease my so called ‘torturing’ ala my ‘criticizing’.”

you huff - fine, it’s one day out of the whole summer.

“ok. but you better have snacks.”

“do you think i wouldn’t provide refreshments? what kind of monster do you think i am?”

there’s more people than you expect showing up to audition for this band. half of them are just there to sweet talk johnny or mark, but the others are all just. bad.

you never knew how bad someone butcher playing an instrument, let alone a guitar, but you’ve had that eye opening experience today

“how many people left?”

you mutter, face first into your palms and looking up with happiness when mark says only one!

“hey, im jung jaehyun.”

you turn and see the boy from the bike, the one with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen, standing in the entry to johnny’s garage

he’s carrying his own guitar case - black leather and well worn but loved

“well jaehyun dude, i hope you can at least play the damn thing because i feel like no one in this town can!”

johnny groans and you straighten up a little as jaehyun comes closer

he sets himself up and you feel something inside your stomach turn when he bends down and you see a bit of the tanned skin of his back

“im not amazing, but i can play some of the classics.”

“wonderwall?” mark asks and johnny snips at him as you try to think of something to say, but suddenly....your brain is fuzzy

“play anything!”

so jaehyun does, he plays, and he even sings and the fuzziness in your brain turns to white noise and the little drop in your stomach is a whole bundle of butterflies

you barely realize the johnny is already befriending jaehyun and mark is staring at him with those big, impressed eyes

when you get up and jaehyun smiles at you

“so what do you play?”

johnny throws an arm around your shoulder older brother style and rolls his eyes before you get a word in

“you’re actually taking their spot because they’re too busy to be in the band.”

something seems to cast a sad shadow over jaehyun’s features - “oh, you’re not going to play with us?”

words float through your head, none of which you can grasp onto, so you just shake it instead and let johnny ramble on about your so called betrayal

you look at your phone and of course it’s nearing ten and there’s no way you can go to any of the other places on your list so you motion to mark that you’re going to head home

“oh - i have to go too.”

jaehyun slings his guitar case over his shoulder, “but ill come by tomorrow for practice?”

johnny shoots him a big grin and then haggles all the social media jaehyun has out of him

you don’t know why you just don’t start walking - but somehow you end up leaving with jaehyun, making that left turn where you first passed each other

“do you live on this street?”

you jump a little as you nod, “yeah - i think i actually saw you yesterday. you were on your bike so you probably didn’t notice me.”

there’s a polite distance between you two, but jaehyun is smiling when he answers

“oh no, i definitely noticed you.”

you end up thinking about those words the same way you couldn’t stop thinking about his eyes

except this time, instead of it lasting a day, the thought lasts nearly two and a half weeks

it seems jaehyun is doing a good job fitting in with your friends, considering you don’t get anymore calls from mark

and you actually start to make progress on your summer project

you manage to get some ticket stubs from old movies, an old science project you did that’s still hanging on the walls of the highschool (open for summer classes), and pressed flowers from ontop of a hill where you almost break your elbow back when you were a freshman

you’re plunging yourself into your past, but weirdly enough every now and then you’ll remember that

oh no, i definitely noticed you

the six little words make you feel giddier than whatever memento you’re seeking out to tuck into your shoebox

you try to tell yourself it’s just because jaehyun is new - he’s new and the memory of him isn’t old enough to try and find anything to represent him by

and he kind of represents everything you’re nervous about - new places, new people, new friendships ...... the prospect of a new love

love?

you look up at the sky as you swing back and forth on the playground you’ve come to collect something from for your memory box

that’s ridiculous. i’ve had one conversation with him!

you swing your legs back and forth, slowing down and you think twice about jumping off when suddenly you feels someone gently push your back

the swing goes a little higher and you turn your head in surprise to see

“j-jaehyun?”

he smiles and his dimples greet you before he does

“i saw you on my way back from johnny’s.”

he gives you another soft push and you hear that fuzzy noise that always turns the gears in your brain when you try to say something around him

“is - is johnny being nice?”

is all you can muster and jaehyun laughs, the sound melodic but low, just the way the baritone of his voice is when he sang

“very nice, but he is a lot to handle sometimes.”

you kick your legs down and dig your heels into the grass a little, jaehyun grabs the two chains of the swings to help you stop it

when you turn you notice his bike is laying a couple of feet away and so is his guitar

“what about the band stuff?”

“johnny is trying to write songs and stuff, but actually mark is the one that i think has the talent for it.”

you can’t help but feel the corner of your mouth lift up a little, he already knows the two of them pretty well.

“what about you - do you write songs or music?”

jaehyun lifts his bike back up and you take the guitar case to help him

before you know it - you and him are walking side by side again

“a little, but it’s more about playing the guitar for me. that’s the part that makes me happy.”

you play with your fingers behind your back, old nervous habits rising to the surface

“by the way - why did you not want to be part of the band? johnny said you were busy with something but you didn’t say what.”

you stop

i should lie, make something up.

jaehyun stops too and the sounds of the bike wheels and footsteps float off into the air

but for some reason, i don’t want to lie. not to him.

“im......leaving after the summer, going to school in another place. so im spending my summer kind of.....im kind of cataloging this place. this town. i’m doing the whole put your memories in a shoebox thing which is so-”

“awesome! i think it’s awesome that you want a part of your home with you, sometimes people are way too excited to get away from their roots.”

you look at jaehyun, who returns the look with a comforting warmth you’ve never experienced before.

it’s a different comfort than the one you get from your friends or your family, it makes your heart beat flutter - slow for a second, then so fast you think your body can’t keep up

he starts walking again and you do too

the silence isn’t weird. it’s a conversation in it’s own way between your two bodies.

when you get to your house - you look at jaehyun again and you have two thoughts

one is that you should kiss him. because he looks so.....kissable.

the second, the one you ultimately choose, is to widen your eyes and go:

“promise you won’t tell the others about it though, they would not let me live it down.”

jaehyun laughs and hooks his pinkie with yours - his skin soft under the setting sun - “i promise.”

and after being caught up in thinking about jaehyun’s eyes, or the way he speaks, you find yourself in the same repeating cycle again

this time. it’s your regret.

you should have chose option one, because it’s looking like another opportunity to kiss jung jaehyun is not coming any time soon.

and like the two times before, you throw yourself into your summer project to try and not think about it

(although you do, multiple times throughout the day, at one point blushing at the image of what could have happened if you DID kiss him and then getting snapped at by the angry man at the local deli)

another couple of weeks pass and you swing by johnny’s because it’s a location on your summer memory list and also....

you are curious about how the band is going ...

and you kind of a little want to see jaehyun again......

you arrive and hear jungwoo’s voice to your surprise, followed by the sound of drums and johnny’s sharp “stop, stop, STOP!”

“jungwoo, what is going on - did working at samsung make you into a robot who can only produce code and not drum to save his life?”

“what do you know about drumming johnny? or coding? or anything in general?”

“hey watch the attitude, you’re embarrassing me in front of jaehyun.”

jungwoo snorts and you try to hide your own laugh but everyone turns to you just in time for you to hiccup it back

“ah - the traitor is here!”

johnny sings and jaehyun gives him a soft elbow to the ribs

“what’s up?”

mark smiles from his place at the keyboard and you cross your arms

“nothing, hows it going - book any shows? write an album yet?”

“actually, we did book a gig for your information”

johnny waltz his way from the microphone and to a stack of flyers from his couch

he hands you one and this time you do burst out into laughter

the flyer, pink and way over the top, is an invitation to johnny’s end of the summer party

well it’s actually his going away party his parents have planned for him, since he’s also leaving for school

“johnny - you didn’t book a gig. you’re playing your own party.”

“the parents are shelling out twenty dollars to each of us so money makes it a gig.”

you look at jaehyun who secretly rolls his eyes

“sure, sure. can i keep one of these?”

you fold the flyer and slip it into your pocket, this will make a good addition to the shoebox

“oh are you going to put it in-”

jaehyun starts and you rush over, hand flying over his mouth as the three other people in the garage stare

“going to put it in......the trash. yes. going to throw it right out because really johnny did you use paint-”

johnny flips you off in the kindest, best friend way possible

you let go of jaehyun and throw him a look that he mouths an apology too

somehow, instead of leaving, you end up staying and listening to them practice

you consider it a break from your project and the day is filled with what you’d expect from all of them, laughter and jokes and banter that is only ok between the closest of people

when they finally finish practice and jungwoo and mark accept a gracious ride home from mr. suh

you say you’ll be off too and jaehyun trots up right behind you, “ill walk with you.”

this time, you hear less of the fuzz in your head and can actually keep up a decent conversation without staring at jaehyun’s lips

you feel closer because of the time you spent today and you almost walk past your house until jaehyun points to the porch

“oh by the way. can i see what you have in the shoebox?”

you look over your shoulder at him, “like right now?”

he gives a casual shrug

“is that ok?”

and now jung jaehyun is standing in your room. well he’s standing in it and then he’s sitting on your bed and rummaging through some of the most personal memories you have.

his long fingers pulling out ticket stubs or notes you passed in class

he chuckles at the graduation photo of johnny and dangles yours over your head when he refuses to give it back

you tackle him for it and he falls down against your sheets and you make the worst (or arguably best) mistake of your life

when you straddle his hips and rich out to grab it

only to look down and see him splayed open like the pages of a beautiful book

and you remember your regret

it makes your head spin, but you watch in slow motion as the photo falls from between his fingers and you lean down to catch it, but jaehyun presses up and catches your mouth with his.

it’s sloppy, awkward - but only for the first few seconds - until you can both adjust yourselves from your position and do it right and then it is

astonishing

because it feels like you’re kissing someone you’ve been kissing for years. decades. millennia's. eons.

it feels like you and jaehyun have been doing this since the big bang.

since humans first came to exist.

since, gosh you don’t know, since pangea freaking broke apart.

you make out for so long that you lose track of time and it gets late to the point where the darkness of the summer almost makes you ask him to stay over

but jaehyun is just so mannerly that he slips out the back door of your house with a final kiss and a promise to call

which he follows up on earlier than you expect, showing up on your doorstep to take you out for breakfast

only to end up with you two back in your room an hour later, kissing again, and again, and with more hands and less of his shirt or yours.

the only thing that unglues you from him is his phone ringing for what must be the tenth time

“it’s johnny”

you breath against jaehyun’s neck finally

“how do you know?”

“only he calls ten times in a row.”

and like your summer project, you don’t tell your friends about what’s going on between you two

jaehyun says it’s kind of hard to hide the obvious evidence on his body - but you tell him to say it was your other neighbor, or someone from another town

jaehyun agrees just because you pull the doe eye trick on him and he really is learning he can’t say no to that or to you in most situations

but everytime before and after band practice - he’s with you

sometimes he joins you on your little visits to the places still on your lists

when you tell him the sentimental value behind them, you get a little fidgety because being vulnerable is hard

but jaehyun listens and he says that each memory of yours he gets to watch you relive, helps him learn something about you

you don’t say it out loud - but hearing that makes you want to cry and kiss him and cry again

an other times, you two don’t do anything heartwarming or special, you just roll around with him, tangled up in one until he has to go

with each day, summer comes closer to

and end but you fall deeper into each other at a pace that might be alarming if it was any other two humans but the both you

and before you know it - it’s the day of johnny’s end of summer slash going away party

jaehyun is supposed to be there from like nine in the morning but he stops at your place before he bikes over

kissing your forehead he drops something in your palm

you open it to see his guitar pick

“won’t you need this for when you play?”

“i’m using my backup. i just thought you might want to put that one in your shoebox........since it could remind you of me......”

he flushes and you bite back your lip, part of you is happy because he’s just so cute it isn’t fair but the other is coming to the daunting idea that

soon enough - im leaving too, will jaehyun just be another memory to me?

instead of dwelling on it, you peck him again and ask,

“ill see you at the party?”

the party is most definitely a johnny suh party

the food is amazing, everyone on the planet is invited, and johnny is wearing something so bright it beats out the sun

when you arrive, his mother spends half an hour asking you to take care of him when he finally leaves and you don’t remind her that you’re going to two different places

you don’t see jaehyun or mark or jungwoo around - you assume they’re practicing somewhere for the performance while johnny is juggling both front lead singer and host

the party is fun - it really is - but the words “going away” somehow still make you a little sick

you’re about to escape to somewhere a little quieter, when you hear someone tap the mic on the makeshift stage in johnny’s backyard

you see him - and the rest of the band - gather on as johnny introduces them and shouts excitedly that this song they’re going to perform, written by keyboardist mark, is all about new beginnings!

jaehyun finds you in the crowd, a secret little smile on his lips before the music starts and to your surprise - and probably everyone elses - they actually do pretty good

the lyrics are so very mark, but johnny brings a flare to the way he sings it

jungwoo seems to have remembered how much he adores drumming again and the way jaehyun looks playing guitar is so enticing that you can’t help but feel a little pride in the fact that you’ve been tasting all of that for most of the summer

the sick feeling in your stomach turns into excitement which turns into just pure enjoyment as you watch your friends and your boyfriend up there having fun

when it’s over and they hop down to mingle back into the rest of the party, you really can’t help yourself and throw your arms around jaehyun

you kiss him - which earns a gasp from mark, a half smirk from jungwoo, and a loud clearing of his throat from johnny

you and jaehyun admit what’s been going on and when johnny just whistles you ask him if he’s not mad

“even if i was mad, you would still keep liking each other right - so what’s the point?”

you hug johnny, and mark, and jungwoo, and like nothing has changed you all fall back into the swing of it

the comfort of being around each other

when you five are the last people in johnny’s messy background you finally decide to tell them all about your summer project

“i knew you’d all say it was lame so i-”

“hey hey hey - it isn’t lame. it’s not what i expect but i get why you’d want to do it.”

johnny pats your shoulder and you feel jaehyun’s hand on the small of your back

it’s the kind of moment you want to never end.

really, you just want this summer to never end.

but when it does - when the day comes for the temperature to drop and for you to be on your way to a new place

you feel the sadness come in a big wave

johnny, mark, jungwoo, and jaehyun all come to say goodbye and you hold the shoebox in your hands - now heavy and filled to the brim with all your memories

before you say it though, each of them adds something

jungwoo drops his samsung internship ID into it

mark places the paper he wrote the draft of the lyrics to the song they performed at the party into it

and johnny chucks a burned CD version of it into the mix

finally, turning to jaehyun, you take in a deep breath

“i know the distance will be big so if you want to break up and-”

he kisses you before you can finish your sentence and slips a small box that you don’t open until you’re already in your new dorm

inside is a small bracelet, engraved on the inside are the words

“i definitely noticed you. it was love at first sight”

years later - jaehyun says those words again

as he’s reading his vows

and you’re feeling the fuzziness, the butterflies, the comforting warmth, everything like a tsunami of all the things that are you and jaehyun

and when johnny shows up to present the rings to you two

they’re in that old shoebox

two little bands at the bottom of all those memories

at the reception, you lean over and whisper to your now husband

“where did you find that old thing by the way?”

jaehyun nuzzles his lips against the cusp of your ear as you watch jungwoo and mark make fools of themselves on the dance floor

“under the bed, where you put everything you care about.”

#WELL !#i really took way too long to write this but just........alot of feelings at once #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun au #nct au #nct 127 au #jaehyun #nct #nostolgic au #jaehyun imagines #nct imagines

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lumosandnoxwriting · 3 years

Text

Doing Me Right - Fred Weasley

Title: Doing Me Right Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW!! Dirty talk, semi-public sex, fingering, mentions of choking, unprotected sex, comments that def could be construed as a breeding kink bc im trash Summary: Fred knows he shouldn’t be eavesdropping on the girls, but when his girlfriend starts to sing a song about getting it on all night, all his concerns go away and all he can think about is 34+35. A/N: not requested, just the product of my own brain!! Inspired by 34+35 by Ariana Grande, all lyrics used are in italics. Feedback is always welcome!!

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“No way!”

Fred pauses with his hand hovering over the knob on his bedroom door at the sound of Hermione’s voice. Y/N, Ginny and Hermione had gone upstairs over an hour ago, but clearly they lied about going straight to bed. They obviously deemed whatever conversation they’re having unsuitable for the boys to hear and Fred can’t help but wonder what they’re talking about. Unable to help himself, Fred inches down the hall closer to Ginny’s room, hoping to catch more of their conversation.

“Yes way!” Ginny responds with a giggle. “Harry is very talented on and off the Quidditch pitch, if you catch my drift.”

Fred grimaces as Y/N and Hermione burst out into laughter, and he makes a silent note to hit a few bludgers a bit harder than normal at Harry during their daily Quidditch game tomorrow. Fred settles on the floor outside of Ginny’s room, peering in through the slit in the nearly fully closed door and his breath catches in his throat when his eyes land on Y/N. She’s sitting cross legged on Ginny’s floor wearing a thin tank top and a pair of sleep shorts. They’ve been together for nearly five years, but the sight of Y/N never fails to make Fred’s heart race.

“Who would have thought, eh? Seems the chosen one isn’t as innocent as everyone thinks,” Y/N teases. Someone, Fred figures it’s Ginny, throws a pillow at her and Y/N dodges it with a laugh. “No need to be so feisty, Gin. You’re the one who brought it up!”

“That’s enough out of you,” Ginny responds playfully. “I would have smothered you with that pillow, but we all know how much you enjoy that, don’t we, ‘Mione?”

Fred watches Y/N’s cheeks flush red and she picks up the pillow to hurl it at Hermione and Ginny, who are both laughing hysterically. Fred knows he should forget he ever heard any of this and go back to his room but listening to the girls talk so openly is addictive. Especially since one of the participants is his girlfriend.

“I’m never talking about my sex life with any of you ever again,” Y/N grumbles, flipping both Hermione and Ginny off.

“Why? Tired of bragging?” Hermione teases, and Fred can practically hear the grin on her face.

Y/N shrugs and Fred doesn’t miss the smug look on her features. “No need to be jealous, Hermione. It’s not my fault the Weasley brother I chose is a sex God. I’m sure with a few more years of practice Ron will nearly be as good as Fred.”

Fred can hear Ginny gag as his chest swells with pride. Of course he knows that he’s good in bed and Y/N reminds him just how great it is every time, but it’s different hearing her brag about it to her friends.

“You know the rule!” Ginny shrieks as another pillow comes flying at Y/N. “If you’re gonna talk about your sex life you’re not allowed to use their names! It ruins the whole conversation for me when I’m reminded that my two best friends are with two of my brothers.”

“Sorry, Ginny. I couldn’t resist,” Y/N apologizes.

All three of them are quite for a few moments, and just when Fred is about to sneak away to his room, Hermione makes a noise, and the faint music that was playing in the background turns up.

“Oo, I love this song!” He hears Hermione get up and then her hands come into view as she pulls Y/N up off of the floor. Fred’s eyes widen as he watches Y/N sway to the beat, singing to the lyrics of the song.

“So what you doing tonight?, better say, "Doing you right", watching movies but we ain't seeing a thing tonight,” Y/N sings along, her hips moving in time to the beat.

Fred’s mesmerized by the way Y/N’s hips move, and he can feel himself starting to get turned on from the words she’s singing alone. Despite the fact that they’re both adults and have been together for years, his Mum still insists that Y/N stay in Ginny’s room when they spend the night, so it’s been a few days of nothing but lustful glances and teasing touches between them, and the scene in front of him is making Fred crave more.

Y/N tilts her head back as she sings, and Fred picture himself sinking his teeth into the sensitive sink of her throat. “Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight, thirty-four, thirty-five. Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight, thirty-four, thirty-five.”

Fred watches the way Y/N’s mouth forms around the words, unable to stop himself from imagining them wrapping around his cock. He’d give anything to be with her all night long, and before he can stop himself Fred is reach down and squeezing his hardening cock through his pajama bottoms.

Y/N bends over, giving Fred the perfect view of her ass. She starts to move her hips again, and Fred has to bite down on his index finger to muffle the noise that rips from his throat. The shorts she’s wearing are far too short, so the bottom of her bum cheeks are visible as they bounce, and Fred can’t look away.

“Baby you might need a seat-belt when I ride it, I'ma leave it open like a door come inside it, even though I'm wifey, you can hit it like a side chick, don't need no side dick, no,” Y/N sings, and Fred starts to palm himself harder. It’s taking all of his willpower not to storm in there and drag Y/N into his room so they can do all of the dirty things she’s singing about.

“We started at midnight, got 'til the sunrise, done at the same time, but who's counting the time, when we got it for life?”

Fred watches Y/N move sensually as the song starts to end, in complete and utter awe that he’s going to spend his life with her. Not only does she have an amazing personality, but she’s beautiful and downright sexy. She can drive him crazy with just one look, and Fred knows he’ll never get tired of being with her.

Someone turns the music down as another song switches on and Y/N settles back on the floor, slightly out of breath. Her eyes pass over the door, and for a second Fred thinks she’s missed him, but then her attention refocuses on the opening in the door and their eyes lock. Fred holds his finger up to his mouth and winks at Y/N, before motioning for her to meet him in the bathroom down the hall.

Y/N swallows thickly as Fred disappears from outside Ginny’s door, refocusing her attention on her friends. She has no idea how long he’d been sitting there watching her, and the thought that he’d just witnessed her dancing instantly makes her wet. Once she’s sure Fred is gone, Y/N clears her throat and stands up.

“I’m gonna run to the loo. Brush my teeth and wash my face, all that jazz.” Y/N hopes her voice sounds casual, and she has to focus hard on walking away at a normal pace, even though her mind is telling her to run towards Fred. They’d been teasing each other on and off all day, and with the lustful look Fred had given her when their eyes met a few minutes ago Y/N can’t get to him fast enough.

“Fucking finally,” Fred groans when Y/N meets him in the bathroom. He slams the door shut behind her and presses her up against it, his hands landing on her hips. Fred kisses Y/N desperately, licking into her mouth almost immediately. “Do you know how fucking sexy you are?” Fred starts to trail open-mouthed kisses down her neck as he presses his erection into her stomach. “Got me so fucking hard just from watching you shake that sweet ass of yours.”

“Fred,” Y/N moans as his teeth dig into her collarbone. “You ah, you weren’t supposed to see that.” Fred’s hands have traveled up her shirt and are now cupping and massaging her breasts. “But I’m so fucking glad you did,” she gasps as Fred’s thumbs start to swirls around her nipples.

Fred kisses Y/N again, needing to feel her lips on his. Kissing her has to be one of Fred’s favorite things in the world, and over the past few days all he’s had to get by are a few random pecks here and there. “Such a little slut, Y/N. Singing about fucking me for anyone to hear. You just want everyone to know how good I fuck you, don’t you?”

Fred lifts Y/N up by her thighs and moves so he can place her down on the edge of the sink. He pulls her tank top off over her head before pushing her thighs apart to give him room to stand. One of his hands immediately moves to her breast, starting to massage it, while his head dips down at takes the nipple of her other breast into his mouth.

“Oh my fucking God, Fred,” Y/N moans as his tongue starts to flick at her nipple. Y/N lets out another noise as Fred’s free hand covers her mouth, pressing against it hard.

“Gotta be quiet, Y/N. Don’t want my family to hear how much of a desperate slut you are for me,” he teases before taking her other nipple into his mouth. He lets his teeth nibble at it, and the moan Y/N tries to let out goes right to his cock. “Can’t wait to fuck you and have you writhing on my cock,” he continues, as his mouth nibbles and sucks on her breasts. “Always fuck you so good, don’t I baby? You’re always begging for more when I’m done with you.” Fred’s hands start to play with Y/N’s breasts again so he can press hot kisses to her neck, just below her ear lobe. “You always come so hard on my cock, don’t you baby? I make you feel so good that you can’t help but brag to all of your friends, isn’t that right? Letting them know how hard your sex God boyfriend fucks you.”

Y/N face heats up at Fred’s words and she tries to moan as he presses his hand to her mouth harder. She’s absolutely dripping in her panties, and as much as she’s enjoying the teasing, her core is aching to be filled.

Fred lets one of his hands travel down Y/N’s torso towards the waistband of her sleep shorts. “Bet you’re pretty pussy is soaking wet for me. Probably so wet I could drink it like water,” he teases, referencing the song Y/N had just been singing along too. Fred moans as Y/N’s hands tangle in his hair and tug and he feels her tongue lick at his hand. “Something to say, darling?” He shoves his hand into her shorts and panties, just barely letting his index finger graze her clit.

Y/N tilts her head back and lets out a whine as Fred starts to tease her clit. She tugs on his hair once again, desperately trying to ask him for more. She can feel Fred smirk against her neck as he sucks a mark into it, and she tries to let out a groan in frustration.

“You always make such pretty noises when I rail you,” Fred praises, teasing her entrance with his index finger. “Always love making you scream my name.” He sinks his index finger all the way into Y/N’s heat, and the noise she tries to make sends a shiver down his spine. “Bet you love having my hand wrapped around your mouth? Don’t you, my dirty girl?” When Y/N nods he smirks and pushes another finger into her heat. “Though you probably wish it was wrapped around your neck, don’t you?” Y/N’s hips have started to grind against his hand, and he starts to rub her clit as his fingers curl inside of her. “You fucking love it when I choke you, don’t you? Such a dirty whore. My dirty whore,” Fred growls.

Fred feels like he might burst out of his trousers if he keeps teasing Y/N like this, so he reluctantly steps away from her and takes his hand from her shorts so he can rid himself of his bottoms. It’s a bit hard with his hand still clasped over Y/N’s mouth, but he makes it work. Once he’s naked from the waist down, Fred wraps his hand around himself and starts to slowly stroke his cock. “Am I ‘up’ enough for you?” he teases. “I’m gonna take my hand off of your mouth, but I want you to be a good girl and stay quiet for me, okay?”

“Need you so fucking bad, Freddie,” Y/N pants as soon as he’s removed his hand. “Need you to fuck me like the dirty whore I am.” Y/N lifts her hips up, helping Fred to rip her shorts and panties from her body. As soon as she’s naked, Y/N grabs Fred’s shoulders and pulls him in, kissing him hard. “You heard what the song said, just give me them babies.”

Fred clasps his hand around Y/N’s mouth once again as he shoves hips forward, fucking into her wet heat until their hips are flush together. He can feel her trying to make noises against his hand, and he starts to move his hips, fucking her at a fast pace. “Can’t wait until we’re back at home,” he growls, leaning forward so he can whisper in her ear. Y/N’s legs have started to shake as they wind around Fred’s waist, and he shoves a hand in between them to rub at her clit. “Gonna fuck you all night long, my hand around your throat as you scream my name.”

Y/N starts to breathe harder as her orgasm approaches, her hips moving in tandem with Fred’s. The tip of his cock drags against her g-spot with each thrust, and the dirty things he’s whispering in her ear are quickly pushing her towards her climax.

“Gonna make you ride my face and then ride my cock,” Fred whispers, nibbling on her ear lobe. Y/N clenches around him and his hips stutter as he moans. “You like that idea, huh? Love having your pussy eaten, don’t you? My dirty whore.” Fred starts to thrust harder as he feels his orgasm start to build. “Gonna have to choke you for a bit on my cock too, yeah? I know how much you love to gag around me as I fuck your throat.”

Y/N reaches her peak then, her whole body shaking from pleasure as she cums around Fred’s cock. Her hips to continue to move with Fred as her walls convulse and twitch around him, wanting him to reach his orgasm as well.

Fred rests his forehead on Y/N’s shoulder as his thrusts turn sloppy, his orgasm nearing. “So fucking tight for me, baby. Feels so fucking good around my cock. Gonna cum. But that’s what you wanted, isn’t it baby? Wanted me to fuck you raw and pump you full of my seed, my little cum slut.” Y/N clenches around Fred one more time and it pushes him over the edge. He rolls his hips slowly to help him through his orgasm, his cock twitching as he releases deep inside Y/N.

“Fred,” Y/N whispers when his hand finally falls from her face again, before she pulls her face to hers. They kiss slowly as they both comes down from their highs, and Y/N whines against Fred’s mouth when he slowly pulls out of her. But a moan falls from her mouth as Fred slides two of his fingers back inside of her.

“Can’t let any of it leak out yet. Not if I’m gonna give you my babies,” he teases, pecking Y/N’s lips several times.

Y/N rolls her eyes, and pulls Fred closer, kissing him deeply. “Pretty sure the potion I’m on is gonna prevent that from happening no matter how long you keep your fingers inside of me.”

“A guy can dream, can’t he?” Fred asks playfully. He slowly pulls his fingers out of her and brings them up to Y/N’s mouth. Fred groans as she takes them into her mouth and sucks them clean, unable to look away. “This is our last night here, no matter what my mum says. We’re gonna be back in our bed tomorrow night so I can fuck you into the mattress.”

“Now who’s the desperate slut?” Y/N teases before kissing Fred again. She winces as he helps her off of the sink, before starting to collect her clothes. “Although I would much prefer a bed to the sink.”

They both get dresses quickly, not wanting to be gone for too much longer. Fred kisses Y/N deeply for a few moments before he lets her leave the bathroom, watching her hips sway as she walks away.

“Finally,” Ginny comments as Y/N reenters her bedroom. “You were gone for ages.”

Y/N can’t help the grin that takes over her face. “Sorry. I had to wait for Fr- I mean someone to finish doing me right. If you catch my drift.”

#fred weasley #Fred Weasley smut #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley fanfiction #fw #golden

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