#mother i yearn for the chocolate milk

[holyfacehead]

milk for the sick milk for the sick milk for the sick

[armouredheart]

.

[spoonsock]

Show me love pt.1

Part 2

Gwen Stacy x fem! Reader

No Spider-woman AU!!

This is basically a retelling of the movie “Show me love (1998)” or “Fucking Åmål (1998)”, I just switched the characters but the plot is practically the same. I only kept Jessica’s name from the movie, I gave the rest of the characters other names. I definitely recommend watching the movie! I also recommend reading the synopsis for it before reading this but it’s not necessary to watch the movie to read this.

This is all soooo chaotic but tbh the whole movie is chaotic so don’t blame me if you simply don’t understand some parts because honestly neither do I🤷‍♀️

Considering that this will only cover up like the first part of the movie, I’ll write a part two and possibly a part three, but only if this gets some attention, which I doubt cuz it’s awfully written but still please lmk if you want me to write the rest 😭🙏

Synopsis: After the death of her best friend, Peter Parker, Gwen Stacy doesn’t do friends. She’s sad and a loner, the quiet, weird girl who sits alone at lunch. But she’s also secretly in love with the popular, beautiful and upbeat Y/N, who yearns for an interesting life.

Warnings: homophobia, underage drinking, mentions of (underage) drug use, has some angsty parts, OOC Gwen, reader and the rest of the characters do not really know how lesbianism works, all the characters are dumb little teenagers don’t expect much maturity in this, not proofread whoops, also wrote this when I was sleep deprived so I guess most of it doesn’t make sense

“Happy birthday to youuuu! Happy birthday to youuu!”

Those were the first words she heard when she woke up. Groaning, she opened up her eyes and sat up straight, smiling at the sight of her dad holding a delicious looking cake in front of her.

“Happy birthday dear Gwen, happy birthday to you”, he sang as she grinned up at him and blew the candles on the cake. “Thanks dad”

He sat down next to her when she noticed he was holding some papers in his hands, aside from the cake. “What’s that?” Gwen asked as he handed her the papers. Birthday invitations. Her smile turned into a frown as she gave him a disapproving look.

“Dad-“ “Before you say anything, please, just consider”, he interrupted her, already knowing what she was going to say. He knew she wasn’t the most social person, especially after the death of her friend, her best friend, Peter Parker. He knew she didn’t have anyone aside from him. Not even the girls from the band she used to be in, before she gave up on that too. But then she lost him, and he saw her whole world fall apart. He watched her lose interest in everything that used to make her happy. He watched her lose her spark. And it pained him so much. But he hoped that maybe, all she needs is a little push. She can’t be alone her whole life. So, a party, he thought, couldn’t be a bad idea.

She looked at him, then down at the invitations, and then back to him. “Dad, I don’t have who to give them to”.

“Honey, you have to find some friends. I know it’s hard after Peter’s de-“ Gwen tensed up at the mention of his name and suddenly moved around on her bed to get up, making the cake almost fall down and smudge everywhere. “Fine, I’ll give them out!”, she rolled her eyes before getting up to get ready for school. “Gwen, you don’t have t-“, he was interrupted once again by the aggressive slamming of the door. The cop sighed sadly.

———————————————

To say that you never had the best relationship with your sister would be an understatement. Sometimes, even the smallest, pettiest things she did would absolutely infuriate you. Today on the repertoire of shit she did that pissed you off was taking the last of the chocolate milk.

“I HATE YOU” you screamed as you poured the containing of her cup right onto her head. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU??!” She yelled as she grabbed on your hair and threw you on the floor. You kicked and trashed around as your poor mother came in asking what what the hell is happening. “YOU CAN ASK Y/N”, said your sister, Jessica, as she ran out of the kitchen.

“I don’t understand, I am so tired of this! I’ve been working all night!” Your mother said, as you looked down in shame. “Sorry. We didn’t mean to wake you up”

She sighed, “What was it this time?”

“She took the last of the chocolate milk” you answered quietly, feeling guilty. “She took the last of the chocolate milk?” She repeated, disbelief in her voice. You nodded and started swiping the spilled milk off of the floor with a piece of paper with your foot.

You got ready and exited the house, about to make your way to school, when you saw a guy with a moped who you recognized as Jonah.

“Hi”, he said. “Hi, you live here?”. “No, just had to do something here. You want a ride? You can take the helmet” he offered but you rejected, claiming you’ll walk and hoping he’ll leave you alone.

“You coming to Christian’s tonight?”. “Maybe”, you replied while still heading off. You heard him mumble something but ignored it.

—————————————————

Taking out the stuff from her locker, Gwen saw a classmate she acquainted sometimes. She remembered the party invitations before deciding, fuck it, she’ll try. So she went up to the girl in the wheelchair, who’s name was Marie, and gave her the invitation. “Here”, she said, “I’m having a party apparently”. Thanks” replied the girl.

“You? Having a party?”, asked one of the mean, popular girls, who’s name Gwen didn’t know and frankly didn’t want to know. “No”, she said quickly and tried to stop the girl from taking the invitation from Marie, but she wasn’t fast enough. The bitch took the card and started teasing Gwen, but she grabbed the invitation back and shooed her off. She was about to go back to her locker when she heard a certain voice. Your voice.

“Jessica, I’m so sorry, I’m such a fool. I promise to never spill chocolate milk on you”, you hugged your sister tightly and continued to apologize, feeling genuinely sorry. Gwen didn’t know what it was about you that made her like you. She wrote songs about you, she wrote about you in her diary, she dreamed of you and all that stupid shit. It made her so confused. You had a reputation of being with so many guys, it didn’t make sense to her as to why she was so attracted to you of all people. But it is what it is, and she continued to stare at you as you talked to your sister.

In class, she wrote your name over and over in her notebook, drawing stars and hearts around it, while you were bored to death in another classroom, not even attempting to listen to what the teacher was droning on about.

During lunch, you sat with your “friends” and talked about how you wanna go to a rave or something, complaining about how bored you are, unaware of the certain blonde staring at you, sitting a few tables away, next to Marie. “You are so boring!”, you exclaimed to no one in particular before laying your head on the table.

“We could go to Gwen’s party”, one of your associates, the very girl who teased Gwen just a few hours ago, mentioned. You knitted your eyebrows together in confusion. “Which Gwen?”

“Gwen, aren’t you having a party?”, the girl turned to Gwen and sneered at her, while she tried not to listen to the bitch.

“Everything is so boring! I hate my life!”, you cried out, ignoring whatever was happening around you.

“Gwen!”, the mean girl continued yelling at the blonde as she got up. “Gwen, we’ll come to the party!”. Gwen flipped her off and ran out of the cafeteria. You didn’t bother to raise your head even when the other girls from your table started yelling at the blonde.

——————————————

“Mum, it isn’t a rave, it’s just a normal party!”, Jessica tried explaining to your mother, who caught you both in the lift while you were half naked. To elaborate, you have no mirror in your house so to see what you look like you have to use the mirror in the escalator. You were getting ready to go to Christian’s, you took off your pants in the lift, looking at yourself in the mirror, waiting for Jessica, who you told to bring you your skirt, but she forgot, and as the two of you were arguing in the lift, the door of it opens and reveals your mother who sees you hiding behind your sister in a tank top and underwear and throws a tantrum, saying you can’t go out.

“You can stay here together and have fun, while I’m at work. I bought chips and soft drinks”

“Well done, Y/N. Welcome home”, your sister says sarcastically making you roll your eyes.

The moment your mother leaves you start rummaging through the medicine cabinet, complaining how you wanna do drugs. “None of those will do anything”, Jessica retorts making you pout and spit out the random pill you put in your mouth. “I’ll do something else then. I’ll fall in love”, “I thought you already were. With that Italian guy?”, “He wasn’t Italian. Maybe Bosnian. Whatever. I’m not in love with him”, you speak as you lay your head on your sisters lap when suddenly the phone rings. Jessica answers and says it’s the guy you saw this morning, Jonah. “He wants to know if you’re coming to Christian’s. He’s in love with you.” You make a sour face. “Ugh!” You groan. “What? I thought you wanted to fall in love?”, “Not with Jonah Hult! There’s no way I’m going to Christian’s now. I’d rather go to Gwen’s”

Your sister turns to you with wide eyes, “To Gwen’s? Are you braindead or what?” You throw a hairbrush at her. “What if there’s nice guys there?”, “At Gwen’s?”, your sister asks again. “Might be! Please!!” You give her your best puppy eyes and she looks at you before tsking “Fine, fine”. You squeal in happiness and kiss her cheeks.

—————————————

Gwen and her dad sit in their living room in an awkward silence.

“No one’s coming dad, let’s just eat”. “Have some patience Gwen”, he tries lightening her up. Soon enough the doorbell rings and it’s Gwen’s classmate, Marie. Chief Stacy helps her with her wheelchair and they all sit together in the living room. Gwen opens up the present Marie got her, a bottle of perfume, before saying how she can’t accept it. Something snaps inside her before she yells at Marie, calling her a crippled idiot and saying how she never even wanted to be her friend, while her dad tries to stop her. Marie goes home and Gwen storms to her room. Her dad tries to comfort her while she cries and yells at him, about how she has no friends, about Peter’s death, about something being wrong with her, about wanting to die. She lays there as chief rubs her back not knowing what to do or to say, then finally proposing to go eat the special dinner he prepared for her party when she calms down.

They eat peacefully until the doorbell rings again and Gwen shakes her head, telling her dad to not let in whoever’s there. He tells her to put away the dishes while he tells off the people who came. Gwen does as told then goes to the bathroom to wash her face. Her eyes are puffy and red from crying and she looks like a mess. She hasn’t looked this bas since Peter’s death.

————————————————

You ring the doorbell a couple of times. No one answers and Jessica urges you to leave it, until the door opens and, the person you suppose is Gwen’s father, let’s you in. He gives you some wine and tells you to wait in Gwen’s room so you go up there. You fill up your two glasses with wine and clink them together while looking around the room. It’s filled with posters on the walls, there are many cds and books on the bookshelf, and there is a drum kit in the very middle of it all.

“What party is this? Are we the only ones?”, your sister asks you and you shrug. “Why complain, Jess? We’ve got wine and everything”, you smile at her. “Yes but like…….Okay, we’ll drink the wine and leave”, “Deal”, you say as you continue to sip on it happily.

Unbeknownst to you, Gwen gets out of the bathroom to see her dad sitting on the couch, watching the TV. “Wasn’t someone there?”, she asks. “Yes, but they weren’t hungry so I gave them some wine and sent them to your room”. Confusion arises in her “And who was it?”. “Y/N and Jessica”. At the mention of your name, panic wakes in Gwen.

Meanwhile, in her room, you see some notebooks sprawled across her work table so you rummage a bit through them, but one of them falls down and opens on the floor, giving you access to what’s inside and the contents of it do surprise you. Inside of it are written poems and you can tell they’re beautiful even though you don’t get to read them fully because you suddenly hear the door knob shuffling. But whoever is trying to enter is unable. “What the-, open the door!”, you hear from the outside.

“Did you lock the goddamn door?”, you turn to Jessica but she just gives you a look and starts giggling. She runs to the door, “I’m just ummmm….I’m just-I’m just changing!”, she tells Gwen on the other side and you accidentally let out a loud chuckle. “You’ve got a skirt on!”, you whisper-yell at her while still trying not to laugh. Gwen sighs and leans on the door, waiting for you to finish changing, apparently.

“Have you heard she’s a lesbian?”, Jessica asks you. “What! Really?”, you reply and your sister makes gagging noises saying how that’s gross.

The wine made you a little tipsy and you don’t think it through before you start speaking to the door.

“Gwen, is it true that you-“, Jessica quickly covers your mouth while giggling her ass of with you.

“Aren’t you done yet?”, comes from the other side of the door and Jessica tells her you guys will be finished in a second.

“I think it’s cool”, you say and receive a blank stare from your sister. “Cool? Are you serious?”, “Yeah. I’m gonna be one too when I grow up”. “Come on”, your sister tsks at you.

“Open up now!”, Gwen yells and you turn to Jessica. “Let her in, she’s nice”

“If she’s so nice, go out and neck her then, Y/N”, she challenges you and you chuckle.

“Okay. And what do I get if I do?”, “If you do what?”, “If I neck her.”, “You’ll get AIDS probably”, your sister says matter of factly.

“If I kiss her, will you give me 100 bucks?”, she laughs and your request and offers 20 bucks, to which you agree and tell her she’ll have to leave.

“You won’t dare to do it, though”, she sneers and you whisper bet to her as you unlock the door and let the blonde in and your sister out. She doesn’t even acknowledge Gwen as she leaves the two of you alone in the room.

“Hi”, you tell her and she says hi back while picking up the notebook from the floor and putting it away. She leans on her worktable and avoids eye contact with you while you intently stare at her. The wine made your vision just a tad bit blurry, but even through clouded eyes you still admire the blonde’s beauty.

“Why can’t you sit over here?”, you ask referring to her bed on which you are sitting. “Why, what for?”, she asks back with suspicion laced in her voice. “There’s something I wanna tell you”, you answer knowing damn well you ain’t got nothing to say, you just want the 20 bucks.

“Can’t you just say it?”, she crosses her arms and you look around, catching Jessica’s eyes. She’s in front of the room watching you through the crack of the slightly opened door. You try not to smile when you see her and put a fake pout on your face. “I-I just don’t want Jessica to hear it”, you fake out a stutter, inwardly laughing at how stupid you sound.

She looks at you for a second before mumbling a fine and sitting next to you. “It’s just that”, you move closer to her. “You’re so pretty”, her eyes widen slightly when you say that but before she can react, you grab her face and kiss her passionately. She finally starts returning the kiss as the butterflies erupt in her stomach but you accidentally catch Jessica’s stare again and suddenly break contact with Gwen and run out of the room. Your sister grabs your hand, “Jesus, Y/N, you’re insane! That’s is so disgusting!”, she laughs as you two leave the house and run as far as you can, leaving Gwen in her room to process what just happened.

You kissed her. Y/N kisses her. But then you ran away. Your laughter and Jessica’s words suddenly echo in her mind. “That is so disgusting!” All the butterflies disappear from her tummy and that awful feeling in settles in her gut. She feels…humiliated. She guesses you probably ran of to all of your stupid bitch friends to tell them how you kissed Gwen and how stupid she probably looked.

Tears appeared in her eyes. She wanted to scream and to yell and to beat you the fuck up for making a fool out of her. But you were God knows where laughing and making fun of her. Gwen laid down on her bed and let out all of her tears, as if she hasn’t cried enough already tonight. This was the worst birthday ever.

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT A PART TWO CUZ I AIN’T WRITING THAT FOR NO ONE!

I’m impulsively posting this and I’ll regret it in the morning.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Hellooo!!! I loved ur story California Dreamin and I’m actually so excited to see what happens next😍 I don’t want to be pushy or anything but please update😋but take ur time though don’t force urself😙

California Dreamin’ p2

p1, p2

Synopsis: You're the owner of a coffee shop and Rusty James cuts through your town to see the beach

Summary: Who is Rusty-James, what was he doing in your hometown, and why did he leave more of an impression on you that he should've?

Warnings: spoilers for Rumble Fish, mentions of accidents, mentions of death, mentions of drug abuse

"Rusty-James," you mused, turning the name over and over in your mind.

"Strange name, huh?" The man, Rusty-James, chimed.

"Well-" You started, trying not to offend him, but a smile and a far-away look of playfulness washed over him. He looked calm and yet nervous as if he was uncomfortable with the feeling.

"Nah, I get it, my brother's name was Motorcyle Boy." He joked, letting the name slip out under the guise of forgotten past, thinking that his brother was just on another trip again.

"Oh, how interesting. What's your brother like?" You asked, trying to stay polite and continue the chat.

"Oh..brother?" He stopped, a look of dread and genuine fear grabbed him, he felt the walls of his mind close in on him as he remembered the horrible truth. He bit his lip, "My brother's pretty cool." He mumbled.

You took the hint, nodding with a smile before picking up the ends of your skirt and continuing your walk.

"WAIT" Rusty-James called, you turned back to him, a considerable distance between you and him made it hard to pinpoint his facial expressions. Rusty walked up to you, but he did it unnaturally, like he was more used to the motorcycle than his legs.

"Is something the matter?" You asked when he came into earshot. He shook his head lightly, looking up with a nostalgic smile.

"You know a good place to get chocolate milk?" You let your pursed lips crack into a wide grin.

"Pretty long walk to my cafe, you up for it?" You asked. He huffed.

"Screw walking," He said, swinging his leg over his motorcycle seat. He motioned for you to hop on behind him but you just laughed nervously.

"I don't know about that, Rusty-James" you winced, "I've been pretty much crazy afraid of motorcycles ever since I watched some dude crash. Poor guy lost some of his hearing." You racked your brain for a name to go with the story to add further proof but Rusty wouldn't take it.

"I'm the safest driver out there!" He pleaded, doing a circle around you on it to prove it. You raised your eyebrow as if to doubt him but he just laughed. "Ok, I won't force you. You'll walk while I'll drive," He patted your back, "But you have to promise me that you'll get on a motorcycle someday!" You rolled your eyes, laughed, and motioned him to follow you.

-------

The cafe was quiet, the worker who your dad hired to deal with the 'adult stuff' had opened shop and was helping customers already.

You hummed a tune as you put on your apron and got to work pouring out a glass of cold chocolate milk. You placed it in front of Rusty-James.

"On the house, Mr." You joked and he picked it up and drank a big gulp.

"Thanks," He smiled, wiping his upper lip.

"So, where you from?" You ask, cocking your head in genuine curiosity. An order slid your way and you worked on it as Rusty talked.

"Uhm, ya'know, Oklahoma." He gave you such choppy and unfinished pieces of information that you found yourself yearning for answers about this mysterious man. Rusty-James was what your poetry inclinded mother called, "The American Dream".

You reminisced on your mother, how she would mentions snippets of her past as a free woman, a dreamy girl of the silver spoon partying in Manhattan, to the woman she was today. She always said that, "Truly, the American Dream is the man who holds sadness in his eyes,". You questioned whether it was because of her sad country lifestyle where she grew up, or her romanticisation of your dad.

"What're you doing down here?" You asked, serving up a coffee to the man sitting in the barstool next to him.

"Always dreamt of California," He smiled.

You nodded along, "Good place to dream about,".

He laughed again, a healthier laugh than before, as if he was finally catching onto humor again.

"Look," He said, waving you in closer to him, "between me and you, I'm on a mission to travel to every big city in California with this motocycle and back,"

"And this is one of your big cities?" You asked, slightly confused, your town was small and unknown.

"No no, I'm just stopping here," He sipped from his drink.

"Oh, how exciting" You smiled, slipping into a daydream about partying in Manhattan like your mother. Rusty looked thoughtful for a minute before asking you if you would like to come with him.

You shook your head, a little deterred and saddened. "I would love to, Rusty James, but I've got my mom's shop to take care of. How about, I give you my address and you write to me about your experiences,"

Rusty nodded eagerly and just as soon as he came, he left, the beach held a strange loneliness to it when you walked to work the next morning.

[alizeh-tu-badi-mushkil-hai]

I want a family. Yes, I truly desire a loving and supportive family. It was during my primary school years that I realized what a genuine family means.i realised that a mother should not bleed on the floor and a father should not lock his kids in a room. I envision having a husband and a daughter, creating a warm and playful home together. I can picture my daughter peacefully sleeping between us in our cozy twin-size bed. I yearn to prepare my husband's favourite egg scramble in the morning and delight my daughter with strawberry jam spread on toasted bread, accompanied by warm milk, before she heads off to school. The affectionate hugs and kisses they shower upon me before leaving fill my heart with joy.

Additionally, I take pleasure in visiting the grocery shop, carefully selecting fresh fruits and vegetables for our meals, as well as grabbing some snacks for my daughter. Cleaning and adorning our house bring me great satisfaction, as I strive to create a perfect frame for our little family within the walls of our loving home. During evenings, I derive immense pleasure from preparing the best possible dinner for them, watching their smiling faces and hearing their contagious laughter at our dinner table. Afterward, it's all in good fun as we exchange playful burps and jokes. At night, I cherish falling asleep with them, feeling that they are my entire world and the reason for my happiness.

I eagerly anticipate spending summer holidays at sandy beaches, where we can build sand castles and relish popsicles together. And during winter, cozy evenings are made complete with hot chocolate and lively games of Uno. Rainy days offer the chance to play, dance, and sail paper boats in puddles, rejoicing in the sheer joy of being together. I adore styling my child's hair into cute ponytails, selecting princess dresses for her, and expertly tying my husband's tie each morning.

I look forward to sitting with him on the balcony, sipping red wine, and expressing my deep gratitude and happiness for having him as my husband and our child as our daughter. Growing old with my family is a dream I hold dear. Being a housewife and caring for my family doesn't concern me, for as someone once told Matilda, "You can create a family that will always show you love."

[theoriginalyssa]

a girl's last breakfast

a short story

Bones grounded into milk swim in glass cups placed at empty seats for guests that may not come. Glasses set atop saucers paired with teaspoons already dipped in honey, sitting not far are sugar cubes nestled in miniature ceramic baskets. A girlish woman watches her pitcher full of milk fill the last cup. Any hand would have failed at attempting her care, each drop begging to spill over. No shakes could be found in her soft steady hands. Firmness of her soul achieved from haunted echoes of spilt drinks she used to graced these halls with. Sounds from a time once covered in citrus wallpaper, now an asylum eggshell with bare wooden beams. Palmetto bugs sleep behind baseboards dirtied from time’s aged steps, waiting to collapse –waiting for it to finally rot. 

Waiting for everyone to come for another dinner. Long tapered candlesticks lit, wax melting down onto candelabras made from thrifted shot glasses fixed straight with aluminum foil and jewelry wire for support. Plain paper crowns hung from the backs of each empty guest seat. Bowls of china were filled with glitter, sequins, tissue paper, pipe cleaners, markers across the length of the chocolate stained table. Every was to be fashioned for a victorian dusk, she awaited in theme: a nightgown made of baby’s breath, raw edges sewn over with lace trim, her hair smelling of rosemary slick with oil and all braided up  –dead split ends tucked away– , fresh dew skin a shiny supple honey –an aura of trapped wisdom in such a young face–, calcium build up on smiling china soft teeth. 

Time is supposed to be of the essence. Prepared food once warm has grown cold, the hours between sky’s darkness and light waning. Glasses full of milk have become lukewarm. Wax is beginning to melt on top of itself, dripping into baby puddles. No creases of worry have settled above or in the space separating her unkempt brows. She still believes they will show, circling the table to correct a seat, fix a glass, move a fork, all doing it enough times to make anyone feel sorry for themselves. But not her. She gazes outside behind  floor to ceiling window panes overlooking an overgrown garden. Forgotten but once alive with laughter of friends that will be here any moment. This girlish woman watches her reflection float in her gaze. Vivid are eyes still full of curiosity framed by dark eye bags. Lips plump and puppetered by smile lines. Something that ought to be a woman living as a child. A wooden creak reaches her ears. Turning around in excitement, she sees her decorated table only seats the company of her own silence. 

Quiet makes way for stunted bones of her home to creak. Sounds of a rough breeze passing through green leaves of bushes and trees are heard.  A window opens, its rough awakening carrying a breeze swaying linen curtains. With her eyes closed she imagines the curtains to be the rustling nightgowns of her guests, window hinges forks and knives scratching plates, winded leaves just tissue paper being glued to paper crowns.  Dawn’s muddied blue light is being swallowed by the cold yellow of morning. She reminisces on once having that same appetite, yearning to be born into a new day. She has no strength to do it: not enough to break the table, only enough to destroy her china. Her guilt in feigning want in starting anew curdles in the warmth of her belly. Thinking of a day when the sun will wrinkle her skin instead of burning it, her china soft teeth being lost to mother of pearl grins, endless cups of milk for water, coffee, tea –a terrifying dawn that will one day be in her horizon.  

Sunrise touches her toes, sickness of a new day beginning to curdle her stomach full of milk. A resounding knock echoes from the front door. Quick as uncalloused feet can be, she becomes a flurry of lace and linen to greet her guests. They’ve decided to come, to stay for another meal, she thinks to herself. Unlocking the plenty of locks, a rush of mornings’ rough wind burdens itself into her home. Her guests were only branches and the wind. Tears well up in her eyes, a first wrinkle forming in between in her unkempt brows:  no one is coming. They have no appetite for milk, no energy to make paper crowns, no reason to arrive. She shuts the door as rough as the wind tried opening it, stumbling back down the halls of her decaying home –a mess of tears and braids. 

Suns’ orange glow has warmed the forgotten milk. Gone were her friends and their china soft teeth; They had all traded them in for pearl right before her eyes. Their reflections in windows must now show signs of someone living. They all had enough of overlooking their overgrown gardens, now wiping away morning condensation to see landscapers trimming their hedges. Lace linen gowns put away with the soft violence of a wrinkled hand stuffing it into a box labeled “hand-me-downs”. They’ve all choked on curdled juvenescence. 

The girlish woman picks up a glass to let it smash against eggshell walls. Milk stains where it crashed, dripping down to a floor of glass shards. Pieces of her past stab the underbelly of untouched feet, piercing the veins waiting to burst. Her nightgown’s lace trim dyed crimson. Bringing a finger to the puddle, she baptizes herself under the sun of a new day.

~ Alyssa Q.

[healthyartsforseniors]

Time for tea...

Our opening theme for the "Cooking Up Feminism" program was "Hot Beverage." While we could have picked a more specific theme, like "tea" or "coffee" it was important to be inclusive by keeping the topic broad, so that everyone would have a chance to bring their desired and preferred hot beverage. It just so happens, that all of the "Cooking Up Feminism" participants chose to make, and discuss, some form of tea with medicinal properties.

Four Friends by Zeni Shariff

Zeni chose to bring an herbal, medicinal remedy from her childhood spent in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. The carefully brewed, immunity boosting concoction is known as "Tangawizi" when it is made without milk. However, when milk is added, it is called Chai. Zeni reminisces over how her mother ensured that "Tangawizi" was prepared for the children, on a daily basis, so as to keep seasonal colds and the flu at bay. After all, regular visits to the doctor were neither accessible, nor affordable. When milk was used, it was the condensed variety, because "milk was a cherished commodity, so we would often use condensed milk, because it keeps for a longer time when one does not have a fridge due to frequent power failures."

Zeni now lives in Canada, and often brews this tea from her childhood, for comfort and warmth while navigating seasonal changes.

"On a cool, rainy, autumn day when I struggle with human traffic on the subway, I sip on this tea and it feels like I’m being hugged. I feel like the tea is giving me warmth, from head to toe, especially this tea, so lovingly made by myself for myself. When I make this tea, I am transported to a place that my heart longs for, yearning for coziness, and a gentle breeze coming from the Indian Ocean. Each sip takes my troubles away." ~ Zeni

Tea Party by Lady Pearline Morris

Lady Pearline Morris, or Lady P as we now lovingly know her in our workshop sessions, hosted us for a delightful virtual tea at her kitchen table. We discovered, that in Jamaica, where Lady P is from, hot beverages of all kinds are usually called "tea." So, coffee will be called "coffee tea" and even some savoury seafood soups will be called "fish tea." Lady P decorated the table with a variety of hot beverages, such as, Hot Chocolate, Apple Cider Garlic tea and Cerasee tea. As seen in the video, Lady P shows us bitter, unsweetened pieces of chocolate found in Jamaican stores, that are gradually melted into the cup using boiling water or milk, sweetened at the very end. To think, that the trend of melting "hot chocolate bombs" in cups across cafes in western countries may have originated in Jamaica. We also learnt about the very unique Cerasee tea, which is brewed using the stems and leaves of the bitter melon plant. Much like the "Tangawizi" brew shared with Zeni from Tanzania, the Cerasee tea is also given medicinal importance in Jamaica and is often consumed for healing and immunity boosting benefits.

Turmeric Chai by Madhu Kumar

"Cooking Up Feminism" participant, Madhu brought us a wonderful, yellow-golden, Turmeric Chai that has been consumed in the Indian subcontinent for centuries. In fact, growing up in Pakistan, my own mother used to feed us "Haldi ka Doodh" (as Turmeric Chai is known in Hindi and Urdu) immediately after having a fall or encountering an injury. The reason for this was, as Madhu also confirmed with us, that turmeric is considered to have anti-inflammatory benefits and can be very helpful in the body's healing process from injury, bruising and pain.

Self-Portrait, Turmeric Chai by Madhu Kumar

We were not surprised to see painting materials make their way into Madhu's photographs. After all, Madhu is a painter and says "I wanted to create a sort of self-portrait of myself, who I am and what I do." Despite the stillness in this photograph, it truly speaks a thousand words.

Kahwa by Lubna Majeed

Lubna, a teacher from Pakistan shared yet another herbal remedy with us, that is frequently brewed and prescribed during flu season, and in the cold, winter months. A powerful immunity booster and decongestant, this "Kahwa" is made using a variety of herbs, spices and water and can be taken sweet or unsweetened. Though Kahwa (also transliterated as qehwa, kehwa or kahwah) is a "traditional preparation of tea widely consumed in India, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, some regions of Central Asia" (Wikipedia) in Pakistan, any black or green tea, or water-based hot beverage is known as "Kahwa." When milk is added, the "Kahwa" would then be called "Chai." Lubna remembers learning how to make "Kahwa" from her elders, who inherited this generational and medicinal brewing tradition from their elders. Without intergenerational continuum, usually recorded and passed down by women elders of the family, many of these traditions and recipes would be lost to the world.

All of the recipes and stories we share in "Cooking Up Feminism" will be published in a unique cookbook by Scarborough Arts, available to the public in 2023, so stay tuned. Bookmark our blog and follow along. Thank you for your support.

~Mariam Magsi (Workshop Facilitator, Scarborough Arts)

[moonstruck-memories]

Academia Aesthetics

Types of Girls

dark: black coffee and Victorian blouses. Candle lit room and messy desks, blotches of ink staining each page in every notebook. Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata playing in the background. Reading the classics and yearning for a love in a different era. Crying over The Dead Poet's Society every time you watch it, watching it over and over again anyways. Winter nights and the days ending too soon, never having enough time. Scribbled notes on scraps of paper and heated debates in the corridor at 9 pm. Missing a childhood you don’t remember well. A warm fireplace and falling asleep beside your best friend. Leaving notes in library books, waiting for a response. 

grey: green tea the way your grandmother taught you to make it. The sound of rain early in the morning. Violin covers of popular songs. Historical romances and period dramas. Memorising every line from Little Women. A love/hate relationship with studying. Highlighted notes in one colour only. Thick sweaters and jeans. Converse and saddle bags. Writing in a journal and burning the pages. Heavy clouds and grey skies. The nostalgia found in a polaroid. Scribbling notes on the palm of your hand. Texting your friends goodnight too early, missing their closeness.

light: milk tea with more milk than tea. Blueberry muffins and vanilla ice cream. Taylor Swift and concerts in the shower, belting out lyrics to You Belong With Me. Cardigans and cafes in autumn, the smell of coffee and cinnamon everywhere. Reading The Iliad and Percy Jackson, just one or two chapters before class starts. Driving at sunset with friends. Beige coats and white turtlenecks. Your mother’s favourite tea set. Forgotten diaries with dried flowers spilling from the pages. Sticky notes in textbooks with more doodles than words. Forgetting the little details, remembering the big ones. 

chaotic: hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies. Lost textbooks and scattered notes. Colourful highlighters and doodles in the corners. The Neighbourhood and Nothing But Thieves constantlyon replay. Shakespeare and Oscar Wilde memes. The Catcher In The Rye and Dracula. Debating philosophy and conspiracy theories. Thick scarves and denim jackets. Quotes jotted down in your notes app. Sneaking out to see the stars at midnight and staying up till sunrise. Dancing in the rain. Swing sets and ice cream. Voicing out injustices, dreaming of making a difference one day. 

theatre: forgotten cups of coffee. Printing scripts and memorising lines. Explaining common misunderstandings about Romeo and Juliet again and again. Last minute performances. Closets full of dresses and wigs. Masquerade balls and quoting actors. Sketching costumes behind your notebooks. Getting lost in daydreams and performances. Living the characters lives and relating to each and every one. Writing your own plays, performing them with friends. Greek tragedies and romcoms. Singing lyrics to your favourite musical. Re-watching it over and over again, missing that feeling of awe you've lost. 

romantic: warm drinks with too much sugar and cream. Red velvet cupcakes and dark chocolate. Long flowy dresses and hoods. Playing Hozier in the middle of the night and dancing alone. Re-reading Pride and Prejudice and watching Me Before You too many times to count. Scribbling poetry in all your books. Sticking sonnets up on your walls, memorising each one. Giving your friends handwritten letters and vintage jewellery. Crying over The Song of Achilles, writing fanfiction to ease the ache. Calling your friends at 3 am to talk about the universe. Loving too easily, trusting too much. Missing a love you never had.

I know these have been done to death but I’m obsessed with these aesthetics. The vibes are just 👌🏻

[spiltscribbles]

this night seems so long!

~Notes: I’m reposting this and i’m still not happy with it :S rip XS

SEND ME A PROMPT  |  A REBLOG MEANS THE WORLD!

.-

It is pleasant, indeed, while the summer lasts

with the mild pheasants' song ...

but now I feel the northern wind's blast—

its severe weather strong. 

Alas! Alas! This night seems so long!

And I, because of my momentous wrong

now grieve, mourn and fast.

TS Eliot

.-

The late summer chill seeps through the creeping windows into the flat that they once called home— the feebly standing, slowly disintegrating haven that was painted with laughter before lies, with hopeful kisses before hesitant touches. The cold burrows itself into Sirius’s bones and coats his every thought and  nests deep inside of him until he’s more frost than man.

But then he sees Remus— beautiful and golden and perfect Remus— padding out their bedroom clad in Sirius’s oversized jumper that swallows his hands whole, and that familiarly gentle smile that makes his eyes glitter  once his soft gaze rests on Sirius, and his sleep supple  skin tastes like the things too beautiful to name. He tastes like Remus— like sunlight and parchment and whispered laughter and raspy groans and that’s all Sirius ever wants, has ever wanted.

“It’s September first.” He says once Sirius finally unlatches from his neck, red faced and pleased, and Sirius swears that Ganymede has nothing on him. That if he could he’d restructure every celestial star from above to follow the precise slope of his nose, and the pedal soft curve of his cheek, and the path of his jawline to temple. For everyone to worship him in ways he’s always deserved.

“We’ve made it another month,” Sirius retorts, mixes the splash of milk with the sugar in Remus’s Earl Gray, which is a travesty and a point of teasing throughout their whole relationship since they were nothing but lads. Sirius blames Remus’s beverage faux pas— including his preferential nature to black coffee—to being raised by a Frenchman for a mother, and Remus always counters that if Sirius was any more bloody English he’d be afraid that Queen Elizabeth would poach him for her next husband. Which of course always ended the argument because then Lily would laugh from besides him, and Sirius would glare along with James— both hating it when Remus and Lily’s Muggle references go over their heads like a second language they couldn’t speak.

But Lily’s not here, and neither is James. They’re tucked away in another safe house— the fourth in a calendar year, and they’re both going a bit mad if the letter Lily sent him only a few weeks ago is anything to go by. And Sirius aches for the both of them, aches for baby Harry— his one year old God son who he loves like nothing else. And how could he not? He’s Lily’s bright eyes set into James’s open face, has James’s warm, brown complexion but inherited Lily’s freckles too. He’s Sirius’s God son, and there’s a mad man after him, and sometimes it feels like Sirius’s brain is a mushy, muddled stew melting out of his scalp when he’s forced to contemplate on it for too long— to contemplate on how little Harry seems incapable of escaping the danger— because it goes back to the same name over and over again. The name of someone Sirius refuses to ever let himself contemplate for longer than a breath.

“Aye,” Remus says in that lilting, Welsh bread accent of his before he takes a slow sip and Sirius is left to study the sweep of his long lashes against his fine bones and how less than a fortnight ago that face Sirius adores so endlessly  came home caked in mud and blood that was only partially  Remus’s own and Sirius wasn’t allowed to ask what happened while he cleaned the cuts and kissed the healed pink skin with gentle reverence. “Maybe 82 will be our year Paddy.” Remus says with such raw yearning that it blows the wind out of Sirius like he’s  just taken a bludger to the gut. And he feels so stupid and thankful all at once. Because of course those idl contemplations are nothing but ridiculous fodder. Of course Remus would never— could never.

“Yeah moony,” he says quietly. “Maybe it will.”

Sirius steps forwards, and he kisses him and Remus breathes out like he’s been holding it for a long while, and then his fingers slide into Sirius’s overgrown hair and tugs,  and they’re lost in one another for the rest of the morning.

.-

Three days later Remus leaves again under demands that he won’t ever disclose to Sirius— penance for the trust Sirius broke as a schoolboy with a prank that proved near deadly— and a week after that the Order gets news that the Prewettss were compromised, that it took five of those Death Eater bastards to finish them off, and that their older sister with seven kids of her own can’t bare to hold a public wake.

The cold gets worse, and Sirius doesn’t know where to step to avoid another avalanche; is afraid that with every move he takes, a landmine is waiting to blast.

.-

The bare branches of the elderly tree outside their flat knocks against the partition that once bathed them  in spilt sunlight and stolen serenity and careful comfort. It scrapes against the glass like the fingers of an inferi, accentuated by the sound of the whistling wind, crooning like the menacing melody by a milky eyed, haggard looking banshee. And everything is unmoving, everything is still— petrified for a moment in frozen history.

And Sirius feels his insides collapse when he remembers that he’ll never hear Gideon’s laughter or see Fabian sat next to Benjy again. It’s a generation lost, Sirius thinks morbidly, the way he always gets when Remus isn’t home and he’s tossing back shots of Fire-Whiskey like it’s what keeps his veins pumping life. A generation  of them that’s being killed off one by one, a generation of Hogwarts graduates being obliterated and there’s not an end in sight and Sirius wants to scream. He wants to fight them with his bare hands. He wants to ravage each of their hideouts and use them as target practice for his unforgivables and he wants to run, God he wants to run. He wants James and Lily and Harry to come with him, wants to steel Remus in the middle of the night before he knows what’s even happening. He wants to escape it all and hold onto his family with a iron grip that can only be severed through death.

Sirius wants it so much that it begins to ache, to twist in his stomach and weep within the hollows of his bones.

But then the branches knock against the window once more, and he’s brought back to a reality the makes even idyllic daydreams like that something treacherous and awful. So he pours himself another finger and raises the glass to fallen friends and pretends that the throbbing in his heart is something that can be spelled away if he only works hard enough.

.-

Remus comes home a week later and Sirius feigns that the sight of his lover doesn’t make Sirius picture Marlene’s twisted face of agony and Dorcas’s limp body at the feet of this dark wizard that has destroyed everything Sirius has ever known and tainted everything he has ever loved.

.-

The safe house is sparsely decorated, save for the candle Lily’s always got burning and the succulent she keeps on a shelf besides a small portrait of Harry, tucked between one of her and James on their wedding day, and another of the five of them at their Hogwarts graduation. 

It’s no home, especially not one for a baby that’s as curious and boisterous as little Harry. It’s a prison at best. still packed boxes strewn about the ground, and  a tension permeating the air and it’s awful. But Sirius manages to forget about it when he glances to his right and sees a giggling Harry bouncing happily on Remus’s lap, and Remus is glowing in a way Sirius hasn’t seen for edging on a year. The stiffness threaded through his shoulders has dissipated and his smile is wide and he’s dotingly kissing Harry’s chocolate splattered cheek while James and Lily roll their eyes fondly from across the breakfast spread. And Sirius thinks that if this is all he sees for the rest of his life he would thank every God and every spirit above.

“Uncle Moony, you better be convincing Harry that if he doesn’t eat his berries that the boogie man will come and munch on his toes tonight,” Lily scolds half heartedly, which makes James drop a kiss to the crown of her head before topping off her tea.

“No toes, mommy! No toes!” Harry babbles in that in-between state of gargling and speech that is as precious as it is incomprehensible.

“Saucy boy,” Sirius chuckles, tousling Harry’s already hopelessly disheveled hair and kissing the corner of Remus’s lips that taste like hazelnut and blueberries and a bit like sunlight too. And he thinks that this is what happiness feels like— He’s nearly forgot.

“I’ll get’m washed up, shall I?” Remus says as he rises swiftly from his seat, Harry clapping excitedly. 

“Good man,” James winks and Lily blows him a kiss. Remus looks down at Sirius, a brow cocked slightly.

“I’ll be up in a minute, yeah? Just wanted to help these plonkers with the dishes.”

Remus grins brightly and nods, and then, he stilts— like in hesitation— before kissing Sirius’s temple, promptly shuffling off and humming Harry an old French lullaby that he knows Hope once sang him when he was a boy.

And Sirius’s heart feels so full, so fragile, And Sirius hates that he didn’t tell him I love you, is afraid that the space of time that they’ll get to say that to one another is rapidly dwindling.

“We’re finishing up all the kinks in the plan,” James says, saddling up besides  Sirius, handing him a sponge and keeping the dishcloth in his own. “You still want to act as secret keeper?”

“Course you daft wanker,” Sirius bristles. “I’d do anything for you lot.”

“I know,” James says unflinchingly.  “You and Moony are the best friends a bloke can ask for.”

And God that hurts like nothing else, so Sirius doesn’t even try to retort in any meaningful sort of way.  “Don’t forget Wormyy.”

James laughs. “Would never dare.”

And then silence drops over them like a heavy quilt threatening to smother them to death. And Sirius scrapes off the grime from the dishes and pretends that the plate isn’t still scratched and battered even once the debris is gone. And he swallows down the lump in his throat when he remembers that Remus is leaving again in a matter of hours.

.-

Remus is still curved around Sirius like a blessing stroked to life  with heavenly colors the morning after he gets back. Sirius wraps his arms around him, squeezes tightly and berries his head into his neck, wanting to feel him, to smell him all over. And as they lie down in that heap in the bed Sirius has always called theirs, but Remus has only ever referred to as Sirius’s, he sobs.

“Don’t go Remus, don’t leave me anymore. Just stay here, stay with me. I love you so much that I’m afraid I’ll crack with it and I know you don’t— that you can’t feel the exact same way— but please, just don’t leave us. Stay here, stay and love me too.”

Remus’s even breaths never falter, and he never flutters his eyes open, but Sirius has known him for nearly half his life, and he knows it like he knows his own name that Remus is awake and simply doesn’t answer him. 

What Sirius doesn’t know is what that means.

.-

They’re sitting on either end of the couch now. 

Sirius is pretending to fill out a crossword but is actually trying to decode a letter they had been able to intercept between McNair and a lower ranking Death Eater about some assignation that was meant to be held in the wee hours of October seventh. But every few minutes his eyes wander to Remus, to how he’s curled up with a book of poetry in one hand and his blanket swathed around him. His fringe is hanging in limp curls and the circles beneath his eyes are only that much more prominent, that much more sickly. And his gaze is large and fragile in a way Sirius has never seen. And he wants to slide the novel out of Remus’s hands and he wants to kiss away his frown, and he wants to lock his fingers through the holes in his green sweater and he wants Remus in every way imaginable, to tell him I love you and I love you and I love you so much its like I’m dying. He wants to kiss the inside of his elbow and the knot of his ankle and beneath his naval too. He wants him and knows that he’ll never stop wanting him, and is sure that this— this love— will prove his Achilles’ Heal, and Remus is Patroclus destined to leave him  first and Sirius is destined to wallow in ruin.

Sirius wants to beg him to stay here, to stay with him, to love him like he knows he does.

But Sirius simply does not— Does not tell him any of that.

They haven’t spoken to one another with words for days now, and it feels pathetic and hopeless— the way they only regard one another with stiff lips and cautious glances in the daylight, but that doesn’t stop them still clutching for one another once the sun dips into the  horizon. Like if they can convince themselves that the sex is still miraculous that they still love each other too. As if their bodies aren’t just vessels, aren’t just sacks of skin and bone. And it feels like they’re both giving up on one another and holding on to each other with equal fervency. And Sirius doesn’t know anything any more.

It’s pathetic and it’s painful and it’s pointless. It’s so obviously over, it’s been over for nearly half a year, but they’ve always been cowards when it came to one another. And Sirius doesn’t think that will ever change.

So he only settles deeper into the couch, and he keeps the Shakespeare in Remus’s grasp, and he moves his free hand to deftly clutch around one of Remus’s cold feet, and he squeezes and Remus freezes, and they both breathe for the first time in far too long. But then Remus pulls away, and Sirius lets go before he can feel the sting of rejection and they go back to pretending to go on.

.-

Remus is gone the next morning for a council with Dumbledore, so Sirius wanders the flat like a ghost with no direction, no idea what’s next.

He decides to tidy up the space, like it matters, like anything is normal. And when he reaches for the empty mug on Remus’s nightstand, he sees that his book of poetry is still open, and he lifts it to glance at the sonnet written their in black and white…

When my love swears that she is made of truth

I do believe her, though I know she lies,

That she might think me some untutor’d youth,

Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.

And Sirius throws it hard against the wall before he can read another word.

.-

Remus is preparing for another mission for reconnaissance, tells Sirius that night over their curry take away. And it feels like the world is dissolving right in front of Sirius’s eyes, like his lungs have forgotten how to breathe during those interludes where Remus leaves without a trace— only starting up again when he returns smelling of blood and fear and the outdoors. And Sirius hates everything so much— Is afraid that he hates Remus most of all some days, even if he’s the one person he can’t fathom existing without. 

.-

The sky breaks open that night and rain pellets down like the bullets from the Muggle films that Remus loved showing him, before the war, and before his disappearing act, and before it felt like a knife was plunged into Sirius’s chest every time he looked at him— and the only worst thing than this would  be if he stopped seeing Remus all together, because he knows it like the innate way he knew how to move his lips against Remus’s on that feted day towards the start of seventh year— that the knife would simply be pulled out and he’d bleed to death bit by bit. 

It hurts like nothing else loving him, but Sirius can’t fathom a world where he does not. Where he doesn’t get to trace the consolation of freckles dusting his high cheekbones, where he doesn’t get to kiss the singular mole at the nape of his neck that’s ordinarily covered up by his thick jumpers. A world where they don’t intwine in the ways that lovers are want to do.

Sirius loves Remus even if he knows it’s fruitless because there’s a war destroying the world and there’s a spy in the order and Remus is the only one who’s brilliant in a reserved way  and cunning when he wants to be and the only one who knows how to properly keep a secret from his friends like it’s a second skin that he wears as effortlessly as a cloak.

And God.

Remus is sitting besides him now, a pinky’s breath away from his perch on the sofa.

There are words that writhe in Sirius’s throat, clacking against his teeth, begging to spill out. He wants to tell Remus he loves him, that he’d forgive him anything. He wants to tell him that Remus can Avada Kedavra him in the cold morning light and Sirius would still only see him bathed in an etherial  glow, but can’t see him doing that to their dearest friends, to Harry who is sacred and should always be protected. He wants to beg him to just speak, to tell Sirius the truth, to tell Sirius he still loves him. Beg Remus to run away with him. To go off to Prague or Cordova or maybe even the states, to say sod it to the whole damn war and just spend their days and nights tangled up with naked limbs and sweaty sheets.

And he thinks he will, thinks that the burning sensation of want within him is too furious to tempt down anymore.

But then the dying sun shimmers through the window, unspools in Remus’s honey curls and twinkles in his butterscotch eyes that were once always dancing with a quiet humor that enthralled Sirius to him like a drifter to a prophet. And it’s not healthy, this vigil he’s always held for him— especially now, especially with his suspicions that James begrudgingly agrees with and Lily fumingly does not— but Sirius’s never been one for self preservation, has never known how to let a scab heal over naturally. He has to poke and prod until it scars, until it becomes a indelible part of him. 

They stay there like that for either a minute or hour more, and when Sirius sees that Remus finally has enough of their staring match, he begins to move away, and it is Sirius— with a quick hand and desperate need— who presses him back down to the cushions with a hot mouth and wandering palms and he pretends that all he feels at the sound of the whimper Remus lets out is pleasure and not pain from his heart chipping that much more.

And this is vacant of words too. This is just instincts and moans and intuition of knowing another’s body and pleasure points and wants  for half a decade now.

They make it to the bedroom and Sirius refuses to be gentle, refuses to deprive himself of anything, and Remus is matching him with every thrust.

When they kiss its wet, and Sirius knows its the tears leaking out their eyes, and he knows in that unspoken, understanding way that this is the final time. That when Remus leaves later tonight, he’ll stay gone, that he won’t ever sleep besides Sirius again, won’t ever hold him like this. Sirius will never get to see him in the splendid, golden hours of morning and never get to run away with him after all. So Sirius blunders Remus’s mouth with his hard tongue, and he relishes the way Remus bites on his bottom lip until he tastes blood. And he throws them onto the mattress and they wrestle together in the sheets, scratching and pulling and canting obscenely. And when Sirius kisses his protruding collar bone it’s I’m saying I love you, and when Remus sucks on the hinge of Sirius’s jaw it feels like an apology. And when Sirius squeezes the scar on his inner thigh where the very first bite mark lies mangled and knotted in his skin, he’s begging him one last time to stay, and when Remus tells him in a voice that’s tenuous and tender and filled with sorrow, “Fuck me” the syllables slot together in a different formation that sound like “I’m already gone.”

They’re having parallel conversations and they’re not speaking and it’s the end.

So Sirius bucks against him and Remus wraps his long, long legs around Sirius’s narrow waste, and Sirius codes his fingers with the lube they’ve always kept in his nightstand and is fast when he plunges them into that ring of tight, tight muscle, when he stretches and scissors  and slicks him open, spurred on  by Remus’s gargled words begging him. “Now Sirius, now, now. Do it now.”

So he doesn’t bother with any of the rest of it. He barely sheaths himself half way before he has to stop, has to catch his breath, to re acclimate himself to the pressure. But then he hears Remus whimper and he surges forwards and doesn’t let up this vicious rhythm that he hears pulsing in his fucking ears. And it’s graceless and it’s hard and it’s a bit rushed but it’s what they need. And when Remus tosses back his head— features twisted up with emotion— Sirius berries his face into his neck and he feels his tears intermingling with Remus’s own and Remus’s loud pleads for him to go rougher, to stay longer, to keep fucking into him. So Sirius listens because there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Remus— even now— and he focusses on his hand circling Remus’s length, on pumping it with a tight fist and a bit of a twist, the way Remus has always preferred it. And he hears Remus croaking out an “I’ve always loved you,” and even if those words are too late, too little, too hollow, they still work to bring him off the edge, and Sirius thrusts deeper only twice more before he’s releasing himself into him— into the love of his life— quickly followed by Remus’s own cock whimpering out it’s own climax. And it feels like the ending to the story Sirius never wanted to stop being told.

But before he can pull out his overstimulated prick from Remus’s arse, Remus just squeezes him with his legs,  eyes fluttering shut while he rests his arms around Sirius’s broad shoulders. “Just stay.” he asks. “Stay until I have to go.”

And the sound of him— so desperate so pliant so tired— breaks the rest of his heart so much so that Sirius feels the remains splintering in his lungs and shattering open his ribcage with a sob he never lets out until Remus is gone.

“Anything you want Moony. Whatever you ask.”

And Remus’s lips twitch up into the best approximation of a smile that he’s given Sirius in far too long, and Sirius rests his head against Remus’s chest, and kisses the freckles that he was so elated to find their the first time they had done this. And he takes in deep the scent of  cinnamon and citrus and sunlight that’s always clung to his skin, and he thinks that this is the first time they’re letting each other feel hopeless together.

.-

The cold has turned over to a blizzard, and it seizes the flat once more the next morning.

Remus is gone and Sirius is left alone and nothing is right.

So he grabs the floo powder from the beautiful, ceramic container Hope had gifted Remus when he first moved into the flat the summer after their seventh year, and he finds James waiting for him on the other side, and he’s never taken in just how exhausted and terrified and sad his brother is looking these days.

“Wotcher, Pads.” James says, sipping on his tea with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and nothing is alright, nothing will probably ever be alright again.

“Hiya, Prongsie,” Sirius says, hearing just how threadbare his voice sounds in the quiet of the Potter cottage.

“So just a morning call? Or would you like me to fetch Haz for you?”

Sirius swallows the lump in his throat and forces himself to speak.  “James I love you more than life, love Lily and the sprog just as much— But—“ he chokes up right then before ramming forwards. “I can’t— I can’t be the—“

“I know,” James interrupts, a thin, forgiving smile on his face. “Pete’ll have to do, but I’d still rather it you.”

“I’m so sorry James.”

“Me too.”

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

[matchamorphosis]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || ari punishes you for being a brat during your date out at the summer carnival

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || pure filth, smut with some fluff

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || modern AU agent!ari levinson × [black//woc]!reader + crossover!ransom drysdale

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 4K ⟶ 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 || @firefly-graphics

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || 18+ nsfw daddy!kink, age gape: reader is twenty one and ari is thirty five (don’t like, don’t read), heavy language, dirty talk, punishment: overstimulation, eating out, blowjob + spanking mention, movie crossover! + you might get a cavity just from reading this

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 || melting by kali uchis ♡ angel by kali uchis ♡ honey baby (SPOILED!) by kali uchis

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || this was initially for @jtargaryen18’s writing challenge #30DaysofChris but i took a long break in the middle of writing it, sorry for the long wait lovely! ♡ this took less time to edit and write than i thought and believed but i hope you guys enjoy it just as much! ♡ reminder : italic means flashback, bold italics means thoughts/exaggerated dialogue, and non-italic/bold means present!

 + p.s || do not repost, republish or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or steal my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡  

my storybook ღ join my taglist

BABY THIS IS A WONDERLAND

when your tongue licks the bittersweet honey glaze of my pussy lips, where my sinfully divine bubblegum dreams collapse with your good boy deeds but you just keep licking my core desperate. ‘cause baby the milk that leaks from the honey hive in between my thighs is like a strawberry cone to you- and your going to lick me up before I melt under your hot gaze.

"Ari," your meek whimper spills but he keeps licking.

as if he's trying to break the dam that'll give him the strawberry milk that will quench his undying thirst. you’re stuck in this pleasurable killing punishment, if only you knew to stop when you were told to. listen to the voice in your head to stop acting like rotten spoiled brat and you’d have the pleasure to grind your honey slicked cunt against his bearded face.

if only you listened...

"behave," Ari growled into your ear.

the single command is enough for you to roll your eyes and stick your tongue out up at him and so you do. of course Ari is used to seeing this brat but he was sure that with a glare or two you’d clean your act up but you’re still continuing your rotten attitude.

no, you don't want to fucking behave.

subtly walking away from him to the cotton candy vendor, the sound of the man pouring the sugar into the spiraling machine is music to your ears. a glare marks your sharp roseate lined eyes and a pout pulls at your glossed lips, all focused away from Ari but he still sees your rage.

it really wasn’t fair how he expected himself to go on this carnival date with you but not do the one thing that made you want to go. all that adding on that he expects you to behave and not be upset, it wasn’t for and you weren’t planning on calming down.

not even a little tiny bit, cause you want to go into the tunnel of love with him. all the small promises and little compromises made throughout the day as you and him walked and played the colorful tent games did he promise you that you and him would ride.

Ari knew how much this meant to you, you always wanted a special someone to sit besides the romantic boat ride with ever since you were a small girl.

it was his fault that he fell in love with a hopeless romantic, someone yearning to allow themselves be enveloped within the arms of their lover. feel their warmth as the red violet lights start to dim, kiss your lovers lips when you two meet the darkness. giggle when he confesses his sweet darling thoughts of you, you were a romantic for gods sake.

you wanted it so bad, yet every time you seem to mention it Ari deflects the topic with something else. another question or comment or confront your claim in the most abrupt yet sweet way possible.

“not now sweetheart, later maybe-”

“babydoll, do we really have to go in there?”

“it’s to much of a risk for daddy, honey bear!”

he would sweeten those claims up with kisses that would butter your mouth like the popcorn he hand fed you. it was tiring Ari out with your demands to ride The Tunnel of Love but now as he stand there witnessing his precious apple dumpling turn into a rather rotten and bratty apple he may fully turn down the conversation.

on top of that your pink and white gingham sundress displays a bit too much cleavage and leg for Ari’s liking. well he doesn’t like the dress, he loves it but he wouldn’t want you going out displaying it for everyone to see besides him. the nymphet styled cloth you walk so confidently may or may not have half the boys and men eyeing you everywhere you go.

this scene, the boys and grown men undressing you with their list filled hues and eye fucking you with every step your platforms take does make Ari want to snap at them. wonder if their mothers taught them better than to gawk, glare at the silly pubescent boys until they run away shitless. maybe intervene with the lustful stares of the men with a double fist threat.

it doesn’t ease the fire behind his eyes and the clenched fist he has when he’s noticing your smirk- the pounce in your stride that you seem to enjoy the attention.

the very way you bend down near the mirrors of a souvenir cart to re-apply the amber peach lipgloss to your lips is almost intentionally teasing for both Ari and anyone else watching. the way you glance at him through it, lashes batting and your glimmer hint hues screaming fuck me

he now knows this is all part of your game of acting up, you think you can get what you want from disrespecting his order and authority. it was so cute to him how you thought you could get away with your spoiled behavior.

sooner then later Ari is going to bend you over and teach you a lesson on teasing him in public.

the taste of strawberry cotton candy and buttery popcorn is still fresh and lingering in your mouth but you want to taste your juices on his candy red tongue.

"Ari," you carp, his tongue just keeps lapping up at your labia. unbothered and unfazed as hair spills over his forehead, he doesn’t care for he smiles when your plush thighs cage his face.

the continuous strokes of his talented tongue make your pussy flutter and spine shiver. wishing he’d push a fingers or two, god those thick fingers could undo any orgasm from you in matter of seconds. the thought makes a little drool seep from the corners to your mouth and you hug the large blue raspberry bunny Ari won for you closer to your chest. smelling the fruity scent as you whimpered when he bit at your cunt and kissed it better.

you’ve kept the fluffy berry scented stuffie close when Ari striked your ass cheeks earlier wit the same hands that keep your thighs gaped now. allowed you to have that dear comfort as he took on punishing you with his rough spanks.

the burning hand prints are probably visible now just as the wet tears around your eyes. the same streams that stained your peachy cheeks have dried but it wasn’t just your teasing that brought you up in your well deserved punishment.

no, you were in much deeper trouble than for that…

after your little tease show Ari figured to let you have your way, for now. it was always best for him to let you have your way since you were generally upset about not riding on the Tunnel of Love.

now, the golden rays of the sun setting radiated your glowing figure, hand with Ari’s the other holds your frosty pink cotton candy as you take the last bites of it. glancing up at Ari, you see the almost finished chocolate sprinkle swirled ice cream cone in his hand being treated with long slow licks.

attention going from the melting cone to his tongue you can’t help but want it.

want his hot tongue on you, in you.

you want it so so bad that you’re caught off guard when he smirks, not looking at you at all but feeling your stare. he feels your needy wants, knows the devious perverted thoughts going on in your pretty head and its all a dead giveaway when you hold his hand tighter before turning your head away from him.

your sudden shyness makes him let out a laugh. finishing the small cone within a few licks and bites. damn you are a contradiction of innocence and dirtiness that only helps his blood pound in devotion and cock harden in desire.

“what did we say about manners princess? it’s rude to stare at people while they’re eating,” Ari’s deep hushed words rattle your thoughts.

“I know daddy, I-” your words almost stumble when you feel the cool chocolate breaths wave upon your ear and his muscled arm wraps around your waist pulling you closer to him.

“is my princess getting needy? politely tell daddy what you want and maybe he’ll give it to you,” Ari whispers with a soft yet quick peck behind your ear, it’s almost enough for you to whine for more.

Ari knows you just can’t have that, it doesn’t even fill in a teaspoon of the battered lust that needs to be soothed. you really weren’t good at telling him what you wanted, sure physical and replaceable things weren’t an issue, clothes, purses, shoes, books. lets make it clear, if you see it, like it and want it- Ari bought it without hesitation.

however in situations like these, it wasn’t as if it was easy or hard to tell him what you want or what you want him to do to you. you just want him to just touch you, to feel his delicious large and warm hands- his gifted mouth on you already without being asked so many teasing questions.

“I want your tongue, daddy,” your words almost stumble out.

eyes to his now, they flutter innocently at him, biting your bottom lip you look down to notice the small tent at his pants and you smirk. given that rather rude action Ari’s hand that’s on your side goes down to grope the curve of your ass, giving it an equally gentle yet painful squeeze.

“you want daddy’s tongue princess? first tell daddy where you want it-” his sentence was interrupted by the loud vibration of his phone.

buzzing in his pocket you scoff at him when he takes it out to look at the pixel name displayed on the small screen. rolling your eyes when he doesn’t put it away you cross your arms, and let out a huff glaring up at him.

"daddy! mhmm!- daddy no more!" his eyes snap to yours, the sight of you makes him lick his lips.

shiny hair sprawled in all directions, face clouded with lust, the neckline to your pretty dress folded down to reveal your plump tits covered in his love bites. he’s trying his hardest not to give in to the throbbing temptation and smash his mouth against yours, take handfuls of your tits and fuck you till you can only say his name.

but he has much more control than that, he isn’t a needy baby like you. drooling at a few licks to your messy cunt and tits, god Ari knew he was lucky to have landed such a woman like you and you were his to bring as many orgasms as possible.

even if you didn’t want them, you were his little baby and his baby had rules to follow. breaking those rules resulted in punishments and as much as it hurt him to see you cry and whimper it was getting his cock hard to.

“now princess you wanted daddy’s tongue, and now you have it. that’s what you wanted so that’s what you’re going to get.” he muses as you licks your sensitive over-stimulated folds.

“but daddy you gave me four cummies already!-” you fumble into somewhat of a sob but the cry stops once Ari pinches the meat of your inner thighs making you whine at the sudden pain. “ouchy!” you snap, hating these painful thigh pinches but adoring the slow pussy licks.

“i’m teaching you a lesson princess, you’ve been such a fucking brat today so i’m going to treat you like a fucking brat.”

“but daddy!-”

“but what, princess? Daddy told you to stop but you never listen, you’re such a bad listener.” the tinge of disappointment is heartbreaking. tears swimming in your eyes knowing you have let your daddy down and you only wish at that moment -no matter how overstimulated your pussy- you’d go back in time an hour ago to prevent yourself from acting up.

“i’m sorry daddy-” the little broken sob that slips between your trembling lips makes Ari question himself if he’s punishing you too harshly but he thinks otherwise.

so he just tuts you as if he is scolding a child and your eyes swell up with more tears and you feel your bottom lip trembling in hurt.

“Daddy doesn’t want to hear an apology, daddy wants you to stay still so he’ll bring two more cummies out of you,”

hot tears fall as your throbbing pussy is fluttering with pain and pleasure, honey euphoria taking over you moan as your thighs shake and you release on his rubbing fingers. chest slightly heaving, you sniff as you feel your tears drying on your cheeks and watch Ari bring your creamy essence to his lips.

“princess look at the mess you made on daddy's hand. let daddy clean it up for you,”

after that rude phone call you were said to be meeting up with a friend of Ari's, well wouldn't want to say ‘friends’ more on the lines of acquaintances.

"I thought today was just us, he's your friend so why are dragging me into this." you mutter, yet when you feel his soft gaze on your eyes ease on your anger.

"be nice for daddy, okay princess?" he murmurs into your ear, snuggling into your neck. your chest lifts as you try to take in a deep breath and all the offensive rude snappy remarks on the tip of your tongue soften.

you hate the effect Ari has on you, your superior diva persona of sharp wit and pettiness strips away at his sweet and considering remarks. you’re his little spontaneous firecracker but when he cups your chin you turn into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. his feisty tiger cub that always calms down with his calming words and even soothing touch.

“fine,” you say and he smiles down at your stuff pout, it’s the best you’re going to give him and for that he pulls you closer to his side in gratitude.

walking side by side through the crowds, Ari adjusts the cap of the baseball hat down his forehead and you tuck in a piece of his hair behind his ear. making a rose heated blush appear on his cheeks which only brings out a wide smile and giggle from you.

“so, where is he? where are we meeting your ‘friend’?” your comment is sharp yet still soft enough to not avert the vex towards Ari.

“he said to meet us at the circus tent, before the clown stunts,”

“you thinking i’m going to meet him is a clown stunt-” you couldn’t help but let it slip out, you were still mad and you can’t help not to express it.

“princess what did we agree to-” Ari heavily sighs, a simple sign your running his patience but you roll your eyes.

“I know what we agreed to but I know nothing about your so called ‘friend’,”

how the hell did Ari expect you to be nice and peachy with a complete stranger when he warns you of them on a constant basis?

“we aren’t friends, we just have business to deal with,”

“yeah and what a professional scene to deal business then in a tent with lions, tigers and bears-” and suddenly a sharp slap hits your bottom and your to stunned to even register it.

oh my, oh my you’re in for a surprise and you sense it when the powder blue egg color of Aris mystic eyes shades darker. that again is a warning, for you to drop the attitude and suck up to this little silly social gathering but the pulling voices of your angry thoughts echoing fuck no are getting the best of you.

you always had your way, always and forever.

you two were surrounded by people and you even thought yourself no matter how pissed he was he wasn’t going to spank you. not pull you over his lap for children and parents to see but looking around you notice the sound of rides, people chattering, and laughing and playful screaming is to loud. everyone minding there own business to even notice his hand gliding up to wrap his fingers around your neck.

“don’t make me loose my patience. you are going to greet him politely, sit with him and-”

“god Ari do you want me to fuck him to?” you grumble and with that Ari grabs your jaw, directing your stare to his.

the grip on your wrist slightly tightened, his soft lips are to the shell of your ear and from afar it may seem like Ari is whispering something kind and dear from the way he’s smiling but you feel the snide in his harshly hushed words.

“is it that hard for you to be nice for my sake for ten decent minutes? I won’t fucking hesitate to pull you over my knee and spank you for the clowns and acrobats to see. I promise princess, if you even step a toe out of line you’re going to pray you haven’t. do you understand me?”

your glare is your only response until you mutter a small I understand daddy through your teeth barely loud for him to hear.

“speak up princess. I said, do you understand me?” Ari says, his words softer now and the grip on your jaw and wrist soften.

pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek he averts her face to meet him. “I promise you’re not going to regret meeting him. i’ve pulled a few strings to get him here but it’s all for you to enjoy,” he says and you quirk a brow at him, a smile finally pulling at your lips easing Ari.

“and who is that?” you say but Ari shakes his head with a small smirk, “I know you’ve been telling me how close you are to publishing your book and I thought why not I bring the finish line to you,” he says, you are still confused.

Ari was right, you are so close to making a publishing deal but you haven’t received any word in months. you yourself are getting anxious but the way you left the establishment shaking hands with the famous Harlan Thrombey himself. how he emphasized being invested in your work tore all those worries and fears away.

although, you were suppose to receive a call months ago, yet deadlines and interruptions of some sort keep on pushing your meeting with Harlan week after week. after that a contract was supposed to be sealed and editor negotiations completed and done for. not three months later you’ve received nothing and here you are wondering if Mr. Thrombey is having second thoughts on your work.

what is Ari planning for you with his friend?

⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄

sweat glistening your hairline, your soft whimpers fill the fairy light tent, only causing Ari to grip your inner thighs tighter. all this while his hot cherry tongue slides in and out your slick hole, you throw your head back. this pleasure feels like a fantasy and you’ve been reminiscing it to this point.

trying to move your glossy locks of hair away from your eyes, you hate the way he snapped at you earlier how you weren't allowed to touch him. not touch his soft toffee hair, his thickly bearded cheeks and muscled forearms- not even the comfort of his hand.

cause you’re in trouble and you aren’t allowed to touch him or yourself now or later until he says so. you’re the bad girl and the bad girl doesn’t get what she wants, no matter how much she pouts and cries.

"daddy!" and his eyes snap to yours, the pretty innocent blue now replaced by yearning.

knowing better to call his private title in public but the empty red, blue, and yellow striped carnival tent is the only event to do something like this. the soft music of the carousel in the background fuzzy, one of his hands creep up your bodice.

pulling down the tight neckline of your dress, he grips the soft mound tit in his hand and you erotically whimper as he roughly pinches the hard nipple. your pale pink and white gingham dress crowded your upper hips yet still lengthy enough that it covers Ari’s head. large warm palms caress your frosty cotton thigh highs as long slow licks smooth the folds of your fluttering pussy, aching to be satisfied by the pulse of his dick.

slow circular strokes of his thumb rub along the small slippery nub and your thighs twitch in blissful thrill over each of his shoulders. your feet in pink strap heels bounce and flinch every time Ari shoves his tongue in your hole. pouring out moans from you as you imagine his lips polished and shiny with your sweet pussy milk.

you want to see him, you want to see him eat you up you’re desperate to move the cloth over his head. see him licking and sucking the sinful treat he craves everyday. hating the sight of just his head bobbing up and down and side to side from the cover of your own dress you want to meet his eyes as he loudly moans while eating you out. slipping the small and loud growls and carnal noises release as he as his special treat.

daring to do so, you reach the hem of the dress and pull the fabric off his head, and there you see your handsome candyman. tawny brown hair tasseled and cheekbones red from the heat his eyes twinkle in mystic hunger, his lips soaked in your sensual essense. both his hands softly gripping your thighs, stroking your hips as his tongue still deep in your hole you let out a small whimper as he slips it out.

pupils wide and both the corners of his mouth leak with saliva and your cum and you feel your legs shaking a slight when he licks the corners. more so feel your pussy wetten when he glides his tongue over his top teeth glaring at you. awaiting the degrading scowl he has for you yet your surprised when you doesn’t pinch your thighs or claw at your hips even when he just smiles.

“peek-a-boo angel,” he purrs, eyes back to their cloud heaven blue and you feel your heart melting in your chest although it quickens when you brings his tongue right back to your pussy.

“so you must be {y/n l/n}, i’ve heard so much about you.” the young man sitting across from you chimes. You and Ari sit side by side on one of the many picnic tables around the humongous red and white circus tent.

“good things I hope, you must be Mr. Drysdale. how are you?” flashing your pearly white smile you rest your hand in the mans extended hand.

“what a doll, i’m doing great and how are you doing on this fine day?”

peachy fucking keen

he sounds like he’s trying his hardest to at least sound interactive and social. blue eyes move from your face to your cleavage and you want to snap at him to fucking pick.

“well today was excellent as a matter fact, a special day. all until you came along, you see Mr. Drysdale-”

“please, call me Ransom. Ari Levinson, long time no see! before we catch up why don’t you buy your lady a soda pop. i’d like to know the writers first before signing them off to my publish house,” the young man remarks, his eyes not to yours at all but to the way your dress tightly hugs your body.

Ari sees this, anger bubbling inside him he bits his tongue. meeting Ransom from his latest cases he was shocked to find out that he hadn’t been convicted for the third degree murder his buddy was investigating that had him wrapped up into it. even more shocked to find out that he had inherited his grandfathers publishing company.

this ‘meeting’ is to ensure you get your book published and live in your glory. so instead of barking at Ransom telling him to stop eye fucking you he instead offers you a kiss to the cheek and a soft stern whisper in your ear.

“behave while i’m gone,” and with that he walks away to the food vendors, knowing full well that it’s going to be you that’s going to drive Ransom crazy and not the other way around.

“I don’t understand, when I spoke to Ari-”

“well sweetheart today’s your lucky day, it’s not like everyday you meet the CEO of the company you dream your work be published in.” his voice smooth he stares down at you with hungry blue eyes.

cursing yourself for wearing such an unprofessional outfit but how were you going to find out that you were going to make a book deal on a date.

“I don’t understand, I was suppose to meet with Mr. Thrombey-”

“oh have you not received any word? Harlan, my grandfather, passed away three months ago,” he says but every word in his voice sounds fabricated, remorseless.

your surprised once you feel a hand on your bare thigh, gripping it firmly and you shift away from Ransom. his tongue slowly licks his bottom lip when his blue irises catch yours, you had to admit they were pretty like Ari’s but they held something else- something darker.

keeping a safe distance away from you and Ransom you don’t move your eyes away from him, not cowering under his gaze but holding a stronger glance to him. you knew guys like this, you grew up surrounded by them and you even dated guys like him but not in a single situation did you let them take advantage of you.

so, besides sitting at the table trying to avoid a conversation you get this “meeting” over with. Verbally deflecting the flirtatious remarks of Mr. Drysdale. dodging the charming maneuvers of him asking you for more face to face meetings and you can sense the anger radiating off him. it only makes you wonder how long it takes just for Ari to get you a damn soda pop.

“i’m not sure if you’re qualified enough for a place at my establishment. you don’t seem to meet my criteria options and your work isn’t up to our standards,” he says looking down at his phone, typing a message to someone as if you weren’t worth his time.

“I don’t seem to meet your criteria options? you mean offering to take me out when you damn well know i’m already in a relationship? what is this? I thought we were talking about my book,” that sharp remark leaves him dropping his eyes back to his phone after he receives a message.

“my question is why are you with a man like Levinson? a sweet little lady like you with a busy man like him can’t treat you well, can’t pamper you well, can’t fuck you well-”

“we’re done here,” you feel your face getting hot with rage, you were wasting your precious vacation days on this. “and what about your book Ms. {y/l/n}?”

you’re up and away front the table yet you turn your head to meet his eyes again. no way in hell were you going to publish your book for a company runned by Mr. Drysdale.

“it seems as though your establishment isn’t up to my standards Mr. Drysdale,”

"d-daddy, am I sweet?" fluttering your lashes to him, a deep groan shakes against your throbbing cunt and you feel your organism washing over.

the continuous licking from the tip of his tongue tracing your hole and his thick fingers rubbing your puffy folds are removed just for his mouth to suck the sweet essence pooling your rose bud.

his sweet and innocent angel, so naughty and dirty at these times. such a sweet fucking treat, a sickeningly saccharine poison to easily overdose. sporting soft cotton candy thighs he doesn’t mind at all being in between them, licking the sweet sugary sweetness.

y/n l/n is a wish candy girl that’ll rot Ari’s teeth to his graveyard kind of girl and he doesn’t mind it one bit.

"like candy dolly. you're sweet like fucking sugar." you moan at the comment and he won't stop licking. sugar cotton floss, sticky candy apples, rainbow swirled lollies, and buttery caramel popcorn- you’re the whole damn candy bar and his head is so deep in Candyland he can’t think straight.

all he wants is to see is your pie crumble before him as you give him the custard filling. it’s what he’s been craving and the various messages that Ransom sent him whilst in the food line asking him if he could “take you off his hands” only increases the grind of his mouth and tongue on your bountiful mound.

"daddy's on a sugar rush," you giggle completely unaware of the situation Ari has dealt with but otherwise he smiles into your pussy.

god you always had the cutest shit to say when he’s eating your pussy and he fucking loves it, eats it up.

"bad princess, you're going to rot daddy's teeth," trying his hardest to not think about Ransom at a time like this, in his position with his mouth on you.

"mmh!- that’s so sad daddy. I always liked your smile," you moan and sigh, testing his patience once more you begin to lace your fingers through his long hair.

Ari shakes his head disapproving though he seems to occupied licking your saturation from your mound to bother telling you to keep your hands to yourself. keeping your fingers in his hair, his eyes meet yours in anger and with the glimmer of menace he knows so well in your eyes he should prepare for your reckoning.

with that a pretty petty smirk curls your lips as you yank his chocolate locks downward, shoving your dripping cunt as it grinds against his mouth. Ari doesn’t back away but invites it, pulling away slightly to glide his skilled fingers over the soaked folds avoiding your desperate hole.

a whimper slips out when Ari doesn’t give you the pleasure that’s lingering and dripping from your crux but only avoides you; but then again how long can Ari avoid your need for another release. burly arms wrap around your body’s waist as you pulls you onto his lap, letting you saunter your arms around his neck you stuff your face in his chest letting out a whinish sob.

“i’m sorry for misbehaving today Ari,” a bang of regret hits Ari’s chest.

this was all his fault for demanding you meet Ransom to see some opportunities for you when he himself knew it wasn’t the best idea.

“don’t be sorry angel, I went too far and you were right. I shouldn’t have forced you to meet him. shouldn’t have thought of this in the first place,” that little whisper followed with a kiss in between your brows.

he still can’t get the sleazy voice of Ransom offering to take you “off his hands” so you’d get a position at his company. feeling his sugar high blood boiling just remembering Ransom talking about you as if you were nothing but a pawn item for bargaining, right in front of you as if you had no say whatsoever.

“you know how I hate cutting corners, I wanna be successful because I worked hard. not because my boyfriend wanted me to take it easy and let a rich boy take care of it for me,” you whisper, head snuggling in Ari’s neck which he hums.

god, you may be stubborn but you were so loyal to your aspirations and independence. strong when he met you and stronger now, he always has admired that.

“remind me next time whenever I want to introduce you to someone who runs this relationship,” and you giggle at those words.

quickly straddling his lap arms wrapped around his neck you pull him closer till your nose rubs against his and your lips briefly touch his.

“I run this shit,” you cheekily whisper subtly licking his bottom lip and Ari takes your ass in his hands, lifting you up your legs wrap around his waist. “yes, you fucking do.” Ari growls and pulls your lips to his.

he’s all yours, your caring daddy, your carnival carnivore.

truly yours.

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this follow me to read more of my future works! ♡♡♡

[damnusillygoose]

JERZA FANFICTION

A/N: This entry is a part of Sugar and spice, valentijn evenement 2021, theme 2: spice and smut.

A huge thank you to every single talented author who put their effort to take part in this event: Alastair, AsgardianHobbit98, GustavonkaLondon, HisagiKirigakure, Iceburg-sanCPX, Kakashi97, Kairomone, Kamil the Awesome, Karkatsbabe, Max333, Nazaki-Sama, NekoPantera, Phoenixreal, Potashiamu, RavenStyx, Sailor Silver Ladybug, Seth's Kiss, SerenaJones585, SesshomaruFreak, Spunky0ne and Yatsu Narurasuke

Link to ffn site:

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13823258/1/Jerza-college-AU

They could blame it on the fact that most lectures got cancelled today and hence, they had more time to kill or they could blame it on the fact that there was not a single soul present in the library or they could blame it on the fact that they had chocolate smoothie in the canteen today, but it remained as a matter of fact that Erza and Jellal were extremely horny today. Lust was oozing out like vapors from every fiber of their being.

'Erza', he whispered as his back slammed against the bookshelf behind the desk of reception, the books in the top shelf rankled from their collective thrust.

'I love how husky you sound when you whisper my name, Jellal', she said as she ventured raptly into his eyes as if stripping every fabric, every inch of clothing from his body. She pressed her boobs against his muscular chest while their tongues fought each other for dominance. She wanted to feel him even more. Their warm clothes were posing as a hindrance when all she wanted to do was touch and lick every part of him. Their breaths mingled as they continued to smack their lips against each other repeatedly, Jellal slid his hands from her waist to squeeze her ass suggestively.

They were only 2 months into their relationship and they were trying to take things slow on Erza's request but with the way their relationship was progressing, they could easily extrapolate onto a new level seamlessly.

'Not here, Erza. It's the fucking library!'

'Huh? Are you complaining? You squeezed my butt in the first place.'

'No, you started groping my inner thigh when we were revising the 'national income'.

'No, you licked your lips!'

'…. what?'

'You licked the whipped cream foam from your lips and it made me fucking crazy alright! I wanted to smack your lips right there and then!'

'Erza…. I drank the smoothie in the canteen…which was one hour thirty minutes before we entered the library…'

'…So?'

He moved towards her, cornering her into a cage as he thrust his palms right above her head, against the wall, his lips barely making any contact with hers, he didn't understand this woman at all.

'You are one hell of a horny woman Erza. And I love it'

----------

'This wasn't my fault that we were caught, Jellal'

'It certainly was since you were moaning so loudly when I was nibbling your ear. And how come levy recognized your moans right away?'

'…. maybe it was her intuition?', at least she tried, albeit in a lame manner.

'I think, maybe because you guys have your dorms next to each other and you probably finger yourself while reading the erotic novels she lends you.'

Goddamn, this man was fucking sharp.

'I-I don't know about that', she rambled her wordage as her lips threatened to deceive her.

'hmp', Jellal smirked knowingly, he knew her inside and out-no matter how much she tried to lie. He was observing her for the past two years, flirted with her for about 7 months before incurring the courage to confess her. So, did she apparently. They knew each other like no one else did. An intimate space which was only shared by them-emotionally and physically.

'And that ear nibbling! Dear god Jellal! I can't help it! That was my sensitive spot. It made me go crazy!'

'Everything makes you go crazy it seems, first it was the smoothie, then my lip smacking and then the ear nibbling'

'hmpmh, y-you-I hate you Jellal', moving her lips to make an adorable pout as she nudged his shoulder, making him stumble in his steps lightly.

'You won't when I start pinching your nipples when we get into my room. Wasn't that a part of your fantasy? I'll do my best to fulfill that', he whispered the last part so only her ears, which turned crimson from embarrassment, would comprehend his vulgar verbiage as he grabbed her hand firmly leading them to join the queue near the bus stop.

-----------------

The bus was hurling along the slippery road, courtesy to the light drizzle which started suddenly. Magnolia was experiencing a heavy monsoon season and it was advisable to carry raincoats as the downpour could start without any warning.

The wind howled as the turbulent raindrops splattered against the window of their seat. However, there was a greater quagmire which Erza was toiled at.

------------

The doorknob clicked as two partially drenched individuals entered a flat. Jellal's flat, which he shared with Ultear and Meredy, was redolent of a serene stillness- rendering out that both of them were indulged at their respective part-time jobs or finishing lectures at university. They closed the door and left their umbrella at the doorstep while dropping their bags on the mat. Jellal led her to his room and switched on the lights for the convenience of vision. Erza borrowed one of his shirts, which was practically now hers because she loved to wear it often, and hurried to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

Jellal smiled at her petite form when she returned-pausing to drop her a brief kiss, he took a towel and made a haste to take a shower himself.

She settled herself on his bed and switched off the lights. She still felt embarrassed to show her naked body. Though Jellal was extremely patient and considerate of her, she did want to go all the way with him this time. The wall clock ticked, reminding her of the fact that time was running out and she needed to be quick.

This time, she encouraged herself, this time for sure, we will do it! I will not chicken out I will not chicken out I will not chicken out I will not-

'Erza'

She jumped quietly when she felt his breathe against the skin of her neck, drawing goosebumps over her spine, an electric spark which passed from her neck down to her arms, ending up in her stomach which was churning with an abrupt, incorrigible lust.

She was so enraptured in her musings that she didn't even take cognizance of the fact that he had already finished his bath.

'What are you thinking about so intently, love?', he whispered tenderly, moving his lips along her cheeks.

She felt his fingers, cold from the shower, tugging at her chin, pulling her closer to him. She stuck her tongue out and captured his lower lip , sucking the juicy flesh fervidly.

Her eyes shut themselves in bliss when his hands tugged at her(his?) shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it aside nonchalantly. Her breasts, now free from the pathetic fabric, bounced in an enamoring fashion, drawing shivers over her back.

Despite the darkness, Jellal could very well make out the outline of her nipples, luring him in to ravage them with his parched mouth. Erza gasped loudly when he pulled her back against his chest, making her sit completely within his legs.

She could feel it harden. She could feel his member throbbing painfully, only few inches away from her quivering core. Two separated souls, yearning, begging to commix their existence incessantly.

He drew his breath sharply when she submerged herself into him, her cheek against his, her tongue delineating random patterns across his pulse.

She was being daring today, he reckoned.

Their cuddle session was a ritual, a practice to make each other comfortable with their nude form. He raced his palms against her sides as they moved forward to fondle her soft navel, his thumb gently tracing the area around her belly button.

They could never keep their lips away from each other. Their hunger knew no bounds, their lips were engaged in a fervent battle with each other, his soft strands tinkered her eyelids as she caught hold of the back of his head to pull him even closer to her. Their gasps and moans reverberated throughout the room, rivaling the spurt of raindrops outside.

He caught hold of her face with his hands when she changed their current position and settled herself in his lap, facing him completely, her bosom pressed against his chest entirely. She caught his hand, kissing it lovingly while moving her lips to kiss his strong foreman, his biceps and finally his broad shoulders

His free hand had an easy access to her back, her soft butt and the warm flesh of her inner thighs. She rubbed her core against his thigh eliciting rough gasps from his end.

She was so warm down there.

Her hands landed to grip his shoulders firmly as she threw her head back in uncontrollable pleasure when he slipped his warm palms over her breasts, pinching her nipples between his thumbs. He carefully comprehended the outline of her breasts as he lurched his mouth passionately upon them, trying to take in as much as he could.

The sound of his lips smacking her boobs evoked an odd analogy of that of a baby sucking milk from their mother's bosom. He really did appear like a baby who was sucking her boobs hyper-actively. He moved his eyes to take a look at her face embellished with a blush. He smirked.

'Jellal, Jellal', she reiterated his name like a sacred prayer. Her chest heaving from pleasure, as she clutched upon his back for her dear life.

Erza's brain was in a deadlock. She left her limp form in his care as he ravaged her boobs, sucking and licking and fondling them again and again. Jellal, now ready to test the waters, moved his fingers down to her raging core, cautiously-without any haste, to get her steer clear of the fact that he was in no hurry to have sex with her. Her comfort was of paramount importance to him after all.

The sheets ruffled as she laid down on the mattress and he ran his lips across her navel, her lower abdomen which was precariously close to her vagina. Overcome by a sudden surge of trepidation, Erza covered her sex, pressing her thighs together in embarrassment

'J-Jellal, please…. It's kinda dirty down there.' She whimpered. She was insecure of the fact that her private parts weren't as clean as they show in porn even when she knew they go through a meticulous course of makeup and brush up. There was an unhealthy image stuck in her mind.

'it's not, my love. Let me have a look at it. If you won't communicate me your desires, I won't be able to fulfill them. I am just as you, a little clueless in matters regarding love.'

She hesitantly removed her hands and let him spread her thighs open, she still couldn't digest the fact that she, a person insecure of her body image, would let another human being look at her most intimate parts so easily.

'You cut your nails, right?', she asked breathlessly.

'Yes'

Jellal repeatedly kissed her navel, her palm, moving upwards to kiss her forehead, capturing her lips in an alluring kiss, long and deep, to make her feel at home- trying his best to wash away her stress, to calm her bickering nerves.

But that didn't tame the tempestuous dissonance in her mind. Her mind was at war, stringing every negative thought, every insecurity, every anxiety of hers along the surface. Sex is a game of emotional balance for women. Once you lose it, you end up losing the game.

Jellal kissed her eyelids softly as he raced his fingers downwards to her vagina. He got hold of her right thigh, lifting it a little higher. He cautiously brought his fingers forward, taking note of nervous her state, and slid his fingers into the warm folds of her vagina.

'You're so wet Erza'.

She really was, well she was.

She was vehemently at the mercy of her emotional turmoil. She could find no way, no fucking method to calm herself. Her eyes became damp. Her unsettlement became very much evident to Jellal when her vagina started becoming dry all of a sudden. If he were to proceed ahead- Erza would probably suffer some vaginal pain. He stopped.

She brought her legs upwards, bringing them closer to her chest, walling her trembling form like a barnacle.

'I am sorry, Jellal', she sniffled.' I am sorry'

'Erza', he caressed her trembling state reverently, 'it's okay Erza. Look at me. Come here.'

He urged her to get on top of him and as soon as she did, he enveloped her in arms, waiting for her heaving to normalize. She was trembling and she wasn't able to look him in the eye. She was ashamed of herself for being this gutless.

'I love you so much. You are my baby, the best part of my life', he repeatedly whispered soft reassures in her ears, peppering her face with soft snuggles, rubbing his palms along her arms, her back-anything he could reach and touch, letting her know-reminding her again and again that sex can wait but her becoming comfortable in her skin is much more important-not only for their intimacy but for her emotional health as well.

She didn't respond initially, didn't react for a while but as the rational aspect of her personality started surmounting the muddy swamps of her anxiety, she reached for the light at the end of the tunnel- his soothing voice and his delicate pampering.

She sniffled as tears ran down her face, her lips twisted themselves to utter an apology.

'I don't understand. Why are you apologizing?'

'for chickening out once again…'

'it's okay', he embraced her tightly, 'We can try another time. I am in no haste. Should we spend more time in nude to make you feel more comfortable?'

'Maybe. I guess'

Somehow deep inside Jellal's heart, some needless misapprehensions started mushrooming.

Did I make her uncomfortable? Was I a creep? Did she get turned off by me? Did I do something wrong?

As if miraculously sensing his plight, Erza looked up from his collarbone-straight into his eyes.

'It wasn't due to you sweetheart', she whispered, cupping his cheeks, 'it's me'.

'I…. don't understand'

'I got scared when you tried to finger me. I got scared about what was about to happen next, about when we would finally do it, whether it would hurt the first time or not, whether it would fit or not…. I-I just got scared.'

Those were some irrational fears but valid for someone who was going to experience sex for the first time. Sex isn't all rosy tinted.

Sex is trial and error. Sex is communication. Sex is cooperation. Sex is mutual pleasure.

He didn't know she was harboring these thoughts but he decided to pick this topic later on. They could deliberate upon it afterwards. Right now, his priority was to make her feel safe. He ran his palms, combing her crimson tresses with his fingers, trying to calm her breathing, trying to make sure she feels comfortable.

----------------

'There you go', Jellal said as he handed her a cup of herbal tea. She was sitting upright, wearing his shirt, against the wall where his bed was situated. She thanked him while holding the warm beverage carefully.

It had gotten a little colder as the storm didn't plan on stopping any time soon. He had received a call from his flatmates that they could get late due to trains being delayed. He didn't mind that since he wanted to clear up things with Erza once she felt like talking about it. So, he waited. He didn't push her. Instead, he tried to change the topic by opting to watching some funny vines on YouTube with her or the new show on Netflix which she was excited about.

Things weren't awkward between them but they weren't exactly smooth either. There was an issue which was bugging Erza constantly.

'Are you angry?'

'Never', he smiled, giving her temple a warm kiss.

'Is this a deal breaker for you?'

'its not Erza, really it's not'

'but it's the second time I did that… '

'As I said earlier, I am in no hurry to have sex with you. I just want you to be comfortable first. The rest can wait'

She didn't want to make analogy, no use in making a juxtaposition of Jellal and that idiot. But she felt he had to tell him.

'My ex..', Jellal stiffed at the mention of that asshole. That asshole who destroyed her self-esteem, 'It was a deal breaker for my ex'

'Your ex was an idiot ,sweetheart'

'Why didn't I meet you earlier Jellal?' she asked him desperately.

He had no answer for that, being at a loss of words. It was a question he often asked himself. Why didn't they meet earlier? Her ex damaged her self-esteem. His ex cheated on him. They both had terrible past experiences. Had they met each other earlier, they would have never been subjected to such torture… or is it?

'Erza, your experience was painful but do you think it was in vain?'

It was as if someone opened the lid of her jar of rational lucidity. The next words she uttered spilled themselves naturally.

'No', she smiled ruefully. She remembered her desperation. Her desperation to take her ex out of her mind. She used to internally scoff at people who cried from heartbreaks and now that she herself experienced this phenomenon herself, she wanted to visit and apologize to every single person she subtly mocked. Physical wounds could heal themselves habitually, but there was no fucking immediate ointment for a heartbreak. She remembered her struggles, the days she used to get headaches from crying herself to sleep, the days when she used to feel numb even when being surrounded by friends and family. It was excruciatingly painful but she learned a great lesson out of it. It helped her to regain her self-respect and heal herself without any unhealthy coping mechanism.

'No, it wasn't Jellal. It surely wasn't', she voiced her opinion in a different tone now, resuscitated with how far she had come and that her worth wasn't solely based on her sex appeal.

'And do you think we both would have matured this much if it weren't for those experiences?', probably not.

He always knew how to calm her down with his words.

'Why are you being so saint-like today?', she grinned, finally.

'Well, I don't know about that', his lips curved themselves while giving her a wink.

'Things… are so easy with you Jellal. Like, we talk about stuff we don't tolerate and place our opinions well, there is no suffocation-only peace.'

'Honestly Erza, it may seem like an overused phrase but I don't think I have ever connected to someone this well. It's almost unbelievable. Do you remember when we initially started talking to each other, before we started dating?'

'I do, we once talked for 5 hours straight on call. Crazy days!'

Laughter spilled in the, now well illuminated, room as they both decided to trace the timeline of their journey together.

'We had mid- semester break and hence we had the liberty to stay awake till early morning', he reminisced.

'I remember watching the sunrise with you at call at 5:30 A.M. I never talked to anyone for this long'

'We… have come a long way from back then, haven't we?'

'We surely have Jellal', she took his hand in hers and held them together firmly, resting her head, contently, on his shoulder.

Their mugs lay forgotten on Jellal's rack of books as they decided to take a quick nap while snuggling close to each other.

--------------

Later that night when she abruptly mustered some guts, now fully in control of her stable state, she lifted her arm and gently drew her slender finger tips across his naked back. The sheer lust in her eyes being evident from the sublimate rays shone upon her from the window. One look from her. That's all it took for Jellal to spring into action.

Gasps and moaned reigned supreme as they tried to touch each other as much as they wanted. She felt the embrace she received from him, slowly eradicate her anxiety, aiding her to take control of the situation.

Their bodies, covered in a sheen layer of sweat, trembled and wobbled concurrently as they tried different positions, different angles to find the most suitable one which matched their lust.

She was a little embarrassed, but so was he. They were in this together, as a team. Clumsily, and laughing at their mistakes, they managed to finally experience this sensation called 'sex'.

In the aftermath of the convulsion their bodies endured, they slept peacefully bundled together, spooning each other, in layers of quilt, not wanting the heat to escape their love nest. The smell of their orgasm reeked strongly into the room as they heaved in sync, incorrigibly from their snuffling. Skin to skin, his smell infused with hers, not giving a thought regarding how she looked like at the moment- all she concerned was about the man who held her lovingly in his arms, about the man who was coddling raptly into her collarbone, about the man with whom she reached her ecstasy with, about the man with whom sex wasn't a tool to jerk off but a method to delve deep within the soul of one another.

As the fulminating downpour dismissed its actuality, it left a cold trail of precipitation in the air. The corollary tailwind rolled across the vast expanse of the city, lulling two gentle souls, inside a cocoon of new found intimacy, into a warm slumber.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Please leave a review! It will encourage me to write more. Constructive criticism is appreciated!

[undergoingrenovations]

Today I am yearning for when I was a kid

Between the hurt of unbelonging and the invisibility cast over me by my parents divorce

When I used to dig up carrots out of my mothers garden and eat them, dirt and all

When I used to stare at the trees with the utmost focus deciding which one was worthy enough to climb

And I mourn all the things I was derived of doing

Like making my own teddy at the Build a Bear in the mall

Like blowing bubbles in my chocolate milk to hear the bubbles pop until my ribs hurt

But now I can do these without repercussion

And coffee is close enough to chocolate milk anyway

[junquisite]

C’est La Vie 2

WORD COUNT : 1.2K

GENRE : Fluff. SIngle Parent! OC AU

WARNING : None. yearning if it’s considered one

PARTS : 1 2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  F

NOTE : Please enjoy one of my favorite fic i have EVER written.

"It's fine." He whispered. She looked up, wide-eyed, like she recognised his voice. Her mouth opened. Closed. Again opened. And closed.

"You're back." She finally whispered.

He nodded in response.

"mommy.." the girl pulled at her coat and she looked down.

"Can we get all of them?" She asked, innocently.

"What would we do with so many of them sweetie?" She said softly.

She really was the mother huh, he thought.

"We can share them with uncle Seungyoun and Aunt Jimin and everyone else!" 

So no dad? Sejun wondered. He was listening intently to the conversation.

"Okay but chose one baby. Donuts or cupcakes?"

The girl looked really serious while thinking and Sejun had to suppress his sudden urge to coo.

"Cupcakes. I'll take the donuts tomorrow with uncle Seungyoun."

She chuckled and nodded. She looked up at him, "One of each of the cupcakes-"

"Mommy?" 

She looked down at the girl again.

"Can I have two of the Oreo ones?"

"Alright. All ones and the Oreo ones two."

"And two of the strawberry ones." The baby said and Jinae rolled her eyes, a smile on her face.

"Please make all of the cupcakes one please."

"But mommy-"

"No Jiah."

She suddenly looked up at him, startled who was staring wide eyed at her too.

Jiah.

Her child's name is Jiah.

The name they always talked about naming their daughter whenever they will get married. It was all before he realized he wanted to be a patisserie chef and left for Paris but Jiah, Jiah was a part of the future they always dreamt of together. Yes it was childish to plan things like that but with her he always felt at home. They would sit in her balcony, he would climb by the ladder she had purposely placed near her window and they would spend hours after midnight in her balcony, staring at the stars, talking about things they can't with lights shining on their faces, talking in the comfort that only darkness brings.

 She cleared her throat and he was snapped back to reality. Well Jiah was her daughter and not theirs now.

"Umm one of all of the cupcakes and one coffee." He nodded.

"Cream-"

"Cream and 2 sugar." He spoke before she could complete. She visibly gulped and nodded. Then she looked at the child and said, "You hungry love?"

The kid nodded.

"Do you still have your special chocolate croissants left?" She asked him.

Technically he still had one batch left. But he had saved it for his staff and the boys.

"How many would you like?"

"2. And one chocolate milk as well." 

He nodded. He can spare two. He'll just give her from his share and the boys..well they can share the ones that'll be left.

He told her the total and she paid him and just stood there.

"You can go sit, you know." He said while going to make her coffee. 

"It says self service here." She said back.

"You're an exception."

"Let's go sit mumma." Jiah spoke up again. She sighed and went to the nearest seat. She picked the girl up and helped her sit in the chair and sat in front of her.

He prepared her coffee, the chocolate milk and brought out the croissants. By then one of his workers joined him and after telling her to pack the cupcakes, he put all the stuff on a tray and went towards her table.

He placed it and said, "You can take your cupcakes from the counter-"

But before he could complete, her phone rang and with an apologetic smile, she went out of the bakery.

He sat on the empty chair beside Jiah and smiled at her who smiled back, sipping her chocolate milk.

She gave him a thumbs up and when she took a bite of the croissant, she widened her eyes comically.

"These are the best I have ever had!"

Sejun laughed, "Why thank you young lady. Can I ask you something?"

Jiah nodded.

"How old are you?"

She raised 4 fingers and said,"4. But I'm going to turn 5 soon!"

He nodded.

"And where's your daddy?" That was the question he was dying to ask.

Jiah gave him a sad smile.

"He died."

Sejun's heart sank a little. Jinae had to go through something like that? Alone? Well probably not alone but you get it.

"When?"

"Mommy says he died when I was 6 months old."

"You know what death means?"

"Yes. It means my daddy left this world and went to meet the god. But momma says he's happy there and looking out for me. He wants us to be happy."

Sejun smiled at her. Jinae had definitely brought up a smart daughter. 

His employee brought him the box of cupcakes and he sat them in front of her.

Then he leaned down to whisper to her, "I packed that one extra Oreo cupcake you wanted. But don't tell your mumma. She might get mad at me."

Before Jiah Could respond, Jinae came rushing in and said to him, "Can you please make this coffee to go? I'm sorry to bother you but I have to reach office urgently. And the chocolate milk too. Sweetie get down, I'm gonna drop you at uncle Seungyoun's alright?"

Sejun nodded and took their tray and packed everything up while she made a phone call again. 

To the uncle Seungyoun probably, he thought.

When he went to give her the packed goods, Jiah whispered to her something.

Jinae looked at him with slightly wide eyes and said, "Sejun, you didn't had to pack her the extra cupcake!"

He looked at Jiah trying to hide behind Jinae.

"Hey kid! That was supposed to be our little secret!"

She peeked out from behind.

"But mommy says no secrets from mommy." She whispered and he chuckled.

He ruffled her hair and smiled at her.

"You're not mad?" Jiah asked and Sejun said no.

Then the baby turned towards her mom and said, "Mommy, how do you know his name?”

Jinae looked a bit taken aback but she said quickly, “I knew him from long ago sweetie.”

Long ago, that’s right. That’s all he was now. Somehow the words she spoke left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"So can I call him uncle Sejun?" 

His head snapped towards her.

Jinae looked a bit skeptical but nodded.

"If you want to baby. And if he's okay with it." She said and both of them turned towards him.

"Can I?" Jiah asked.

"But why?" 

"Because you're handsome! And nice! And you gave me an extra cupcake!" Jiah said and Sejun laughed, nodding.

"Okay you can." 

Jiah clipped happily and getting down from her mother's arms, ran to him and hugged his leg.

"About that extra cupcake.." Jinae said to Sejun.

"Don't worry about it. It's for this little munchkin here." He said, taking Jiah in his arms and kissing her cheeks.

Her phone rang and she took Jiah from his arms and set her on her feet.

"Alright let's go baby. Uncle Seungyoun is here."

She picked up all the food and smiling at Sejun turned towards the door.

Jiah waved at him and left after her mother, shouting a, "Bye uncle Sejun!" After her.

The said Uncle Sejun, smiled at the leaving figures, slightly sad he couldn't talk to her more.

[judediangelo75]

Day Three: Birthday

Fun fact: October 17th is my actual birthday, I don’t know if anyone else gave their MC the same birthday as them 😅 but I did. I didn’t realize that it was also Professor Flitwick’s birthday until last year. 

Which I found pretty cool. If my character was a Ravenclaw (I was gonna choose between Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, that was her Hat Stall), she would’ve spent time in his office, eating cupcakes with him.

---------------

~1990~

Talbott bit his lip as he stared at the calendar in his dorm room.

Today was October 17th.

In previous years when he became a student at Hogwarts, he wouldn’t really bat an eye at this. 

He would normally would tell his Head of House happy birthday and spend some time in his office.

So what makes this day suddenly different?

It was Judith’s birthday as well.

His girlfriend’s birthday.

For all the years that he known her, never once did he know when was her birthday. Until their night at the greenhouse on Valentine’s Day.

He just missed her 16th birthday.

When she saw the look of sadness in his eyes, she immediately tried to console him, telling him not to worry about it.

“It’s been many years since I last cared about my birthday, Talbott. Don’t worry about it. It’s just another day to me.”

She never elaborated further, so he went to the next best source. Her dead father. 

With Penny’s help, he managed to sneak into the Hufflepuff Common Room and dormitories. Once in her room, he found the safe she showed him under her bed. Whispering the password, he was happy to find the signature shark tooth necklace the deceased man wore inside.

Touching the tooth, he stood face to face with the elder Harris.

After explaining why he was there, Kendrick looked down at the Ravenclaw youth with sad eyes.

“The year of Judith’s 9th birthday was a hard one on her, Talbott. Jamal ran away exactly two weeks afterwards. Not too long after that I contracted my heart virus and died with her in my arms. Her mother doesn’t really care for her, often forgetting her birthday entirely. That’s when she virtually stopped caring. If I could come back just one year to put a smile on my little girl’s face, I would...”

It made sense as to why his little bird didn’t celebrate it or even make it known to anyone.

Two of the people she expected to be there, to see her grow, were gone. With her brother’s disappearance, yet again, he wouldn’t be surprised if she truly didn’t give a damn about the day.

Especially this year.

He was more determined to make this year different.

He thought long and hard for the past few weeks for what he can do for her. What he could give her.

Judith wasn’t a person who expects anything. Let alone asks for anything.

He’s come to know his girlfriend well enough. 

The girl was both practical and sentimental. 

She prefers things that she knows she can use or something that has a hidden value.

He had a few ideas leading up to the day...

He just hoped that she’ll like them.

--------

Talbott was on a manhunt for his girlfriend. 

He barely saw her at breakfast and hasn’t seen her since he finished Herbology class for the day. He asked her Head of House if she seen her.

“Why, yes I have actually. She usually spends time with Professor Flitwick today. Since the two share the same birthday. And that she usually hides out from Miss Brown. I believe you can find them in the Charms classroom.” 

Thanking the older witch, he heard off to the Charms classroom. 

Standing in front of the door, Talbott took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Professor Flitwick,” he called. The short man in question was standing on top of his stack of books.

“Mr. Winger! What a lovely surprise,” his Head of House greeted with a smile.

“Happy birthday, Professor,” Talbott said with a small smile. The older wizard let out a laugh.

“Why thank you, my dear boy. To what do I owe to this visit?” Talbott blushed as he rubbed the back of his neck. It looks like Judith wasn’t here...

“I was wondering have you seen your birthday twin,” he shyly asked. Professor Flitwick paused and let out another laugh.

“Ah, so Miss Harris has told you? Well, it shouldn’t surprise me, you two are dating after all,” Flitwick smirked. Talbott felt a blush rising to his cheeks.

“Yes... but have you seen her?” Before the man could answer, something landed on Talbott’s shoulder, nuzzling against his cheek. 

A Black Sparrowhawk. 

Talbott smiled.

“Hello, little bird,” he said softly, scratching under his girlfriend chin. The bird preened and cooed before flying on ground and transforming back into the Hufflepuff witch he came to adore.

“Happy birthday, Judith,” Talbott smiled shyly at his little girlfriend. The girl’s lips spread into a smile.

“Thank you, love,” she said. Talbott glanced at his Head of House.

“Professor, do you think I can be alone with Judith for moment?” The former Dueling Champion smiled at the young couple before him. Just a few years old, Judith was confessing her feelings towards his student. And now the two were happily together.

“Of course, Mr. Winger. Good day, Miss Harris. And happy birthday.” The young witch and wizard thanked the man as he made his way out of the room.

‘Ah, young love...’ he mused quietly to himself.

Once Professor Flitwick was gone, Judith turned to her boyfriend with an arched brow.

“Something wrong, love,” she asked. Talbott shook his head, a blush staining his cheeks.

“You know how I am with people around...” Judith took note of his hand reaching into his pocket, pulling out a neatly folded sheet of paper.

“What’s that?” Talbott swallowed, hoping to calm his nerves.

“I wrote you a poem... for your birthday...” Judith’s brows shot up to her hairline. She remembered Talbott telling her that he wrote poetry back in their third year, when they were trying to find his necklace.

He wrote something for her?

“Would you like to hear it,” Talbott asked slowly as he unfolded the piece of paper. He never read any of his poems to anyone before. 

To say that he was nervous would the biggest understatement of century.

“Yes...” Judith didn’t understand why she felt breathless, but something felt different about this. This moment felt rather intimate...

Talbott cleared his throat and began to read.

“Your name is like the sweetest honey on my lips,

You radiate with confidence with each sway of your hips...

With a single look with those mystical gold eyes, I am lost,

With the warmth of your smile, my heart slowly defrosts...

I constantly long to be by your side,

Be the one who you would confide...

Your secrets, your troubles, your beautiful heart,

Allow me to learn your mind, heart, and body like a unique piece of art...

I want to be the one who kisses away your tears,

The one who protects you from your darkest fears...

I want to be the one who holds you close,

For the all the times you desire it the most...”

Talbott can feel her eyes burning into him as he read his poem, doing his best not to blush. 

Which failed tremendously as he went on to read the next part.

"Mystical gold eyes, you have charmed my heart to its knees,

Can't you see what you do to me?

Your beautiful dark curls resemble an ancient waterfall,

The way how you look flawlessly breathtaking, no matter where the strands fall...

You possess sunshine within your beautiful smile,

Its loving warmth and brilliance make me want to bask in it for a while...

Your dark skin resembles milk chocolate: smooth, delicate and sweet,

With my undeniable sweet tooth, you might be my new favorite treat...

I desire to hear your lovely voice next to me every morning,

Feel your kisses along the planes of my face, lazily exploring...

I yearn to turn over in the early hours to listen to the melody that is your heartbeat,

Knowing I can find peace in that gentle melody and fall back fall asleep...

I wish to learn every dip and curve your body,

Whether it's to simply hold you or to worship you like you were someone godly...

I always look forward to receiving your sweet kiss,

For I believe you have the lips of an angel and can bring my soul eternal bliss...

Judith faintly wondered if her face looked as red as Talbott’s as he read this part. She raised a hand to one of her enflamed cheeks.

Never had she ever heard someone bare their feelings to her like this. She knows that Talbott is a rather private person.

She knew how he felt about her, but he shows it through more quiet gestures.

This was... wow...

“Sweet little bird,

What is this sad song I heard?

So heartfelt but heartbroken,

You feel pain that never seems to stop growing...

Heartbreak resides in your mystical gold eyes,

The same eyes of your father who now resides somewhere in the skies.

Beloved, turn those eyes to the sky,

Listen to the voices of your wise grandmother and dear father and fly high...

When you begin to feel alone,

Feel my arms around you and take comfort in my cologne.

When tears fall down your cheeks,

I’ll be there with the comfort your wounded heart seeks.

When you feel like all love is gone,

Then let my love be your new dawn.

My dear Judith, I wish to forever call you mine,

Let us create a love more addicting than the sweetest wine...

Queen of my Heart,

I await for the day where we’ll come together in matrimony and never part...

Happy birthday, my dearest beloved,

Know that while I don’t say much, that you are forever loved...”

Talbott finally finished his poem with a beet red face and slightly shaky hands. He wasn’t prepared for the full body tackle of his girlfriend, causing both of them to fall to the floor.

“Jud-MHM?!” Burgundy painted lips silenced the confused Ravenclaw. Her hands cupped his face as she straddled his hips. 

Despite the intimate position and her sudden kiss, Talbott melted into her. The embrace was slow and passionate, the two unhurried as they explored each other’s secret spots.

A hand massaging her lower back.

Another caressing the delicate skin of her neck.

One hand toying with the hair on the nape of his neck.

It’s dancing along his abdomen. 

The demand of oxygen finally made itself known and the two separated.

“I love it, thank you for sharing this with me,” she whispered, looking into those red eyes she’s come to love.

“Of course, darling. Anything for you,” he said softly, pecking her sweet lips. The girl let out a small giggle as she got off him. 

The two stood at full height, readjusting their clothes so they looked presentable. Talbott picked up the paper that fell out of his hand and handed it to her. The girl took it with a blush on her cheeks.

“I still have more planned for today,” he told her with a kiss to her temple. 

Judith narrowed her eyes at him.

“What did I tell you about my birthday,” she asked. Talbott chuckled.

“I remember what you said. But you’re not gonna stop me from trying to make it special for you,” he said. He can the locket that he intends on giving her later on in evening.

She sighed.

“Fine,” she huffed. Talbott chuckled.

“Happy birthday, little bird. I love you.” A small smile tugged on the Hufflepuff’s lips defiantly.

“I love you too, bird boy. And thank you...”

[lupins-sweater]

Tea and Chocolate

(Remus Lupin x American Reader)

Summary: You spend quarantine with the Weasleys and develop a crush on Remus Lupin

Part one of ???

The lovely writer @poppin-potter helped and encouraged me to keep working on this, so please check their blog out!

Molly was kind enough to let you stay when the school shut down. She also invited Harry and a professor Remus Lupin.

You occupied the first room up the stairs. The first few days you worked on making it feel like home. A gorgeous flowery pink wallpaper replaced the plain white. A wood burning stove, a large bookshelf overflowing with muggle fiction and old textbooks, and a wooden desk covered in paper and pens stood against the wall on the right. A cupboard filled with teas, coffees, chocolates, and spices sat above the stove. Straight ahead there was a bay window with handles that opened up to the back yard; the intricate diamond patterns would cast shadows on the floor. On most evenings you would sit on the window seat and pull down the handle to feel the night air, the lacy curtains blowing gently in the wind. You would also make the seat home for your plants: Evelyn, Anthony, Sofia, and Joey. On the wall to the left had your bed, a comfy pink wingbacked chair, and a wooden vanity. The door to the bathroom right next to the vanity.

You graduated early from Ilvermorny and had enrolled in the student teacher program at Hogwarts. As soon as you got comfortable at the castle, a student tested positive. So you were forced to complete your work in lockdown. You knew everyone there except Lupin; he introduced himself during your brief stay at the school. You didn’t know much about him other than he taught defense against the dark arts, he was quite tall, and he was smart. You knew Mr. and Mrs. Weasley from the many letters you would have to send, explaining what Fred and George has done that week. They offered you a place in their home when word got out students were going to be sent home for the remainder of the year.

The burrow was a home away from home. Molly cooked the most delicious meals and could make any situation better. Her saying, “kindness goes a long way,” inspired you to be more patient and understanding to your future students. Let’s just say she was a second mother. Arthur loved discussing American culture and would teach you how to fix things around the house. Playing games with the kids became your favorite past time. You wished you would have a family like this in the future.

——

It’s been a month since you’ve moved in. Even though you’re surrounded by several people, you were lonely. You yearned for a connection with someone, a deep conversation, something. You also desperately wanted to sleep, but your eyelids never got heavy.

It was past midnight. Your door was ajar; warm light spilled onto the landing. Remus was on his way to get a glass of water but saw you were up. He knocked on the door before poking his head through.

“Hello, Y/N,” Remus greeted you with a wave.

“Hey. Having trouble sleeping,too?” You chuckled.

“Unfortunately.” The dark circles under his eyes told he’s barely slept in days.

“I’m going to make some tea if you want to join,” you motioned toward the stove.

Remus shrugged. “Sure!”

You got up from your spot near the window and lit the stove. As you put on the water, Remus sat in the chair. “How are you doing on the assignments?” Remus asked, looking at your cluttered desk.

“Oh alright. How long have you been teaching? You look pretty young.” you inquired, crossing your arms and biting your lip. You were never good at small talk; it made you nervous.

He chuckled. “This was my first year teaching, but I graduated years ago. I’m basically an old man!”

You smiled at his joke. “There’s no way you’re much older than I am! Though you kind of dress like an old man,” you teased.

Remus scoffed and rolled his eyes. “May I ask what you’re planning to teach?”

The kettle whistled, and you began to prepare the tea. “Botany, or herbology as you call it,” you answered.

“Ah. Professor Sprout is retiring this year; she was an outstanding teacher. You’d be a good fit.”

You turned around with two tea cups in your hand. A confused look on your face as you handed him a cup. How does he know I would be good at teaching? I’ve only known him for about a month.

“I don’t know about that. Unfortunately I don’t have much experience,” you deflected the compliment, embarrassed. “Sugar or milk?” you offered.

“No thank you,” he said with a kind smile.

You reached into the cupboard for some dark chocolate and broke off a piece of the bitter candy.

“I see you have good taste,” the professor said, nodding at the sweet in your hands. “What kind is it?”

You laughed. “Thank you. It’s German dark chocolate,” you responded. A cold breeze blew into the room.

“Here. Have some if you like,” you place the bar of chocolate on the armrest and hurry to close the window.

“Are you sure?”

“Please help yourself!” You grinned at his excitement to try it. Still cold, you put on a wool sweater Molly gifted you. “Is it freezing all the time at Hogwarts? I could never seem to warm up,” you ask.

“It’s a bit chilly. That’s why I wear my cardigans that apparently make me look like an old man.” His caramel eyes met yours and challenged you to say something about his outfit.

You couldn’t stop yourself from from blushing under his gaze. Oh no. I’m catching feelings for this cardiganed man. I mean...he is cute.

This terrified you for a number of reasons: 1. When you have a crush on someone, it’s very obvious. You can’t control your blush and coy smiles. 2. Professor Lupin is your coworker 3. You never dated at Ilvermorny, so you had zero experience in relationships. And 4. You were to live in the same house until ????

The night grew later as the two of you discussed Hogwarts, and you’re blush returned every time he looked in your general direction. You hoped he either pretended not to notice, or he actually didn’t realise. You couldn’t tell, but hey! He didn’t bring it up.

——

Your late night chocolate and tea meetings were now an every other day occurrence. The topics ranged from a simple “how are you feeling today?” to “what is the goal in life?”. You loved every minute of it; however, you felt the urge to kiss his curvy lips, to touch his brown hair. Merlin. You didn’t know how long you could last until you did something you’d regret.

You were afraid you had done something wrong when Remus stopped dropping by and the tea had grown cold. You didn’t want to confront him, but you viewed him as a close friend. Maybe he noticed how you felt about him? Or maybe he didn’t like hanging out with you as much as you thought?

Once again you were alone.

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Read into Me Chapter 5: Romeo and Juliet

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 2,955

Warnings: Swearing, slut shaming, bullying mention

Tag List: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @wolfish-willow​ @scoopsohboi​ @herre-gud-nej​ @clockworkballerina​ @maddie1504​ @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary​ @banjino-in-the-hole @buckysarge​ @wildcvltre​ @stanleyyelnatsiii​ @unusuallchildd @n3wtscaseofniffler5​ @peterparxour @alwaysstressedout @linkispink1995​ @asharpkniffe​ @a-big-ball-of-idk​ @used-avocado​ @mochminnie​ @sledgy14​ @the-creative-lie​ @yall-wildin-like-siriusly​ @ggclarissa​

After that afternoon, you spent practically every day after school with Steve, either in his bedroom or the library. It was weirdly nice. You didn’t always talk; mostly you worked in silence, Steve answering English questions or doing work for other classes and you doodling. You’d finished the sketch of Steve you’d started in his bedroom the same night you’d started it. You were actually quite proud of it; you’d managed to get the shadows on his face to make his face look hollow and strange, not beautiful like it usually appeared. And yes, you were comfortable with calling him beautiful. You found a lot of your subjects beautiful, they all fit into an easy collection of strong, attractive faces that could be found in Hawkins. Hawkins Most Beautiful: the collections of portraits labelled themselves.

Steve called you fairly often as well; usually on the days when you didn’t meet up he’d call so he’d have someone to keep him company as he worked. He seemed lonely to you. From your conversations, you learned little of his supposed friends, but you learned a fair bit about his family. Both his parents were rarely home. His father worked in the city and kept an apartment there, keeping him as far away from home as possible most of the time. His mother was home more often, but kept her hours in certain places, leaving him home alone most of the time. So it seemed, he was ignored past the age of twelve. You sympathized with that, your own parents weren’t exactly present, albeit for different reasons. He asked you a lot about Samantha, which didn’t bother you; you could talk about her far more than you could yourself.

“I can’t honestly say that I even really know her…” Steve laughed. You were sat in his bedroom one evening, the sun setting in creamy red swirls, ominous strawberry pieces in homemade ice cream. Sweet and yet worrying for reasons beyond you for the time being. You were sat at his desk, leaning back in his desk chair, turning left and right. Steve was sprawled out on his mattress, feet kicking beyond him casually, his papers spread out in front of him.

“Yeah, she doesn’t really associate with some of your friends. Tina isn’t really our biggest fan…” you replied, smiling softly. The memory of Samantha dumping a miniature carton of chocolate milk on her head in the seventh grade flashed through your mind, her shrill screech making you chuckle.

“Oh yeah? What’s up her ass?” Steve asked, turning onto his side to look at you fully. He looked incredibly posed and uncomfortable, his head placed in his palm and his ankles stacked neatly one on top of the other.

“They used to be best friends, before I showed up. Once I was on the scene, Tina decided that I was someone to bully and Samantha decided that she wanted to be my friend. They fell out because of it and Tina started bothering both of us. She stopped once we were in middle school.” You explained, pulling one of your knees to your chest.

“Tina’s a bitch…” Steve muttered, shaking his head solemnly.

“She’s got such a thing for you.” You chuckled, watching as his face coloured. You continued “Vicki too…they want you so bad.”

“How’d you know?” Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. His face was still pink, it was almost adorable.

“Oh my god, they spend every class with their heads so far up your ass!” you linked your fingers together and pulled them under your chin. You batted your lashes at him with wide eyes, starting into an imitation of Tina “Oh…Stevie, tell me more about your basketball game…oh Stevie you’re soooo strong!”

Steve pulled the pillow from the head of his bed, throwing it at your head. “Oh shut up!” he groaned. You caught the pillow, chucking it back at him, smacking him square in the face.

Steve was great to hang out with. But that sort of friendship didn’t seem to transition outside the privacy of his bedroom. In school, the rules of social interaction began again. Steve returned to the arms of Tommy H and Carol, whose attentions flip between him and Billy Hargrove, and Samantha kept you busy with her questions, her arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders, squeezing you tightly into your side. And every time you passed Steve, she cracked a joke in your ear that turned you beet red.

In truth, it was clear that Samantha did not believe you when you told her that nothing was going on between the two of you. She had already decided that the pair of you were in some sort of torrid affair of Shakespearian depths. She seemed to earnestly believe that it was some secret, clandestine romance was happening behind closed doors. You didn’t really understand what she was imagining; it didn’t make sense to you. Steve was far too obviously interested in other people to be doing anything with you. You tried to point out all the girls who hung off his arm whenever she tried to embarrass you about it, but she didn’t see it.

“What you’re missing,” she said through a massive bite of cafeteria shepherd’s pie “Is that all those girls pay attention to him, but he doesn’t pay attention to them.”

“If we were having an affair, don’t you think that I would tell you about it? I tell you everything anyway.” You retorted, rolling your eyes at her.

“You didn’t tell me about Byers until I weaseled it out of you. That’s what I’m doing right now.” Samantha replied with a shrug, mushing her meal together with her plastic fork until it was a disgusting shade of brown, golden corn accenting the pile.

Talking about Jonathan Byers wasn’t fair and she knew it. In short, there was nothing to talk about. You’d had a small, teeny tiny practically nonexistent crush on the boy a year prior, but it was very clear that he didn’t like you back. Samantha had gone to Tina’s party in October, right as your crush was subsiding, and she’d told you that he was all over Nancy Wheeler. You’d had your suspicions about it, but hearing that he’d gone after someone else’s girlfriend and rejected you along the way hurt. Even though you weren’t interested, it still hurt. Samantha was still annoyed that you hadn’t told her about it until it was over, and since it was the only source of knowledge she had on your comatose love life, she brought it up all the time, much to your chagrin.

“All I do with him is sit in his room and help him study. And when I say help him study, I mean literally help him study, we do the chapter studies together and discuss the stupid book.” You said. That wasn’t the whole story; you talked a lot about life and listened to music. You were confident in saying that you were friends by now. You’d almost met his mother twice, both times in passing, and that seemed pretty important to friendships, when their family knew who you were. Still, it didn’t break into school. Steve stayed with his clique and while you tried to stray from yours, Carol or Tina would always scare you off before you spent too much time with Steve. It didn’t take much to scare you, a mere gaze could send you packing, and those two had been mastering the annoyed sneer since the fifth grade.

“Yeah, well you don’t see what I see…” Samantha muttered, turning her attention away from you and onto the loud clique at the centre of the room. Billy Hargrove was show boating, as usual, with Tina and Macy practically drooling onto their lunch trays. Vicki was trying to get Steve’s attention, her thin, spidery fingers gripping onto his wrists, speaking animatedly into his ear. Steve wasn’t facing her though; his whole body was turned away from her, and directly towards your table. Samantha noticed how he watched where you went, it’s why she thoroughly believed that something was going on beyond the surface, something even you might not realize. She knew what a person looked like when they were love struck. Often times, from the outside, it was easier to see when someone was in love with someone else before she could catch onto who actually liked her. She’d watched the women she yearned for fall in love with boring, lame men enough times to have mastered the signs of how men fall for girls. And Steve showed all the non-verbal signs. She couldn’t get a full read on you yet though.

Tommy had caught onto to Steve’s strange behaviour just as fast as Samantha had, although he wasn’t nearly as impressed. You were simply not worth the effort. Not by a long shot. You were fucking lame-never at the parties, never at dances, never at the lake on the weekends. And he knew you had money, you could afford to do all those things, you were just too much of a pussy to show your face. That was fucking pathetic! He knew his friend better than anyone else and a chick who couldn’t hang was not the girl for him. Steve liked fun girls, girls who could turn up for a last minute thing and not be weird about it. Nancy Wheeler was the farthest Steve needed to go on the preppy nerd scale, and that bitch ended up being a massive slut! Like nobody expected that shit. But Tommy knew that you didn’t have any surprises up your sleeves. Despite the fact that you never talked, he knew that you were plain about who you were. Everything was on the surface, and what he saw was not worth his friend’s time.

“Steve, buddy, I’m gonna go get another milk, walk with me.” Tommy motioned him over. Steve followed blindly, if only to get Vicki’s cold, clammy hand off him. Tommy had seen The Godfather one too many times and seemed to believe that he was some sort of small town mob boss, but Steve didn’t really mind following along with him flights of fancy. Usually they were pretty funny.

Tommy wrapped an arm around his taller friend’s shoulders, lowering his voice from the onlooker’s ears. “Listen, buddy, you gotta tell me what’s going up with that Y/N chick I mean you just keep staring at her it’s freaking weird, dude.”

“Y/N? She’s my writing partner for Lawrence’s class, she’s cool…” Steve replied, turning to catch your eye as they passed. He smiled at you, giving a short wave, which you returned with a small smile.

“She’s cool? That all?” Tommy pressed, stepping into the line and grabbing a carton of strawberry milk and the largest chocolate chip cookie in the basket. He unwrapped his arm from his shoulders, letting him go free for the first time in the conversation.

“Yeah, I mean she’s nice, what else do you want me to say?” Steve knew that was being a little defensive, but he didn’t like being questioned for his choices in friends or girls, he never questioned Tommy’s choices and he made the worst decisions most of the time. Carol was no prize and he didn’t say a word about her.

“You fucking her?” if Steve had had anything in his mouth, he would’ve spit it on the floor. Tommy didn’t even turn to look at him, paying the lunch lady in change.

“Jesus, dude, no.” Steve cried, recoiling from his friend. Tommy needed to get hit and while he didn’t have cause to do so yet, he firmly believed someone was going to do it soon.

“Hey, no need to freak out, it’s just a question.” Tommy pulled his friend back in, slapping his friend on the back. Instead of simply heading back to their lunch table, he pulled him to the side, standing next to the hot grab and go table, next to the cartons of fries.

“Now, the way I see it, you have something great going for you.” Tommy began, cracking open his milk and taking a long swig, leaving a milk film on his upper lip. “Vicki Clarke is a fucking babe and she’s begging for it! She’s all over your ass and she’s hot as hell! But you’re blowing it by spending all your time staring at some freak of nature instead. You could have a smoking hot babe at your beck and call, but you’re wasting your chances here, you see what I mean?”

“Not at all, dude.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, looking over his friend doubtfully.

“Look man, I’m just trying to set you up for success here. Because that girl,” Tommy pointed at you slyly “Is not interested. If she was, she’d be over here, acting like Vicki is. But she’s keeping herself planted at that table with that goth freakazoid.”

Steve had no idea what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, to deny having any feelings for you, but that wouldn’t mean shit if he kept watching you. And Tommy was right, there was a girl there who wanted to listen to whatever he said, who chased him down. Vicki was there and you weren’t. So he swallowed his words and went back to his table.

“Hey, Steve…” Vicki drawled. There was red lipstick on her teeth. Steve didn’t say anything about it. It didn’t make her ugly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, letting her rest in the crook of his neck. Vicki seemed over the moon by it and it gave him something to focus on other than catching your attention.

Samantha frowned, turning her attention back to you. “What’s Steve’s opinion on Vicki Clarke?” she asked.

“He didn’t like when I told him that she had a thing for him, why?” you retorted, flipping through the college magazine in front of you. You still hadn’t chosen anywhere to apply and applications for the major schools were due in the winter and community colleges needed their applications in for the fall semester in by the end of June at the earliest.

“Well, he doesn’t seem embarrassed now.” Samantha hooked a thumb towards the couple. You looked once, narrowing your eye to scrutinize the pair.

“Eh, that seems about right…” you murmured. You wouldn’t deny that something about it hurt. But you ignored the pain until returning home from school. As always, you called before making any moves. It was the polite thing to do, even though Steve had made the plans to meet up with you after school the night before.

The phone was picked up after three rings. Steve’s car was in the driveway, not his mother’s, so you knew who would answer. “Hello?” his voice sounded anxious and breathy, maybe even annoyed.

“Steve-o, we still studying? You wanna go grab food at Hula Burger?” Steve had introduced you to the burger place in Carmel, a little mom and pop shop with the best Cajun fries in the county, at least in your opinion.

“Oh shit…” Steve muttered “Y/N I’m sorry I-I kind of made plans, can I take a rain check on the burgers?”

“Oh…yeah, sure I guess…some other time…” you said softly. You wouldn’t try to hide the disappointment in your voice. The pain you felt in the pit of your stomach returned with abundance, not exactly sore and angry pain, but more of a black hole opening up there.

“I gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?” Steve asked. He was already running late. He was supposed to pick up Vicki in twenty minutes and he still needed to shower. He had genuinely forgotten about his plans with you and he felt like an ass for doing so. He did want to hang out with you, but a date was a good step after being decimated by Nancy. He wasn’t super into Vicki, but it was still exciting to go out with someone new.

“Sure…” you hung up after that. You stood from your bed, dropping your book bag at your feet. You were used to spending afternoons alone, that wasn’t strange to you. Just because you’d spent a few days with a boy didn’t mean that he was yours to hold back from his life. You could’ve pulled a fit and tried to make him hold true to his word, the way your mother used to act towards your father. But those memories made you sick, you didn’t like that behaviour. But you also didn’t like being cancelled on. It wasn’t a feeling you were used to, not from friends at least. Samantha never really cancelled on you, she always made sure to tell you when she was busy and not agree to plans. She’d never cancelled on you for a date, even when she was dating Keith the creep she always put your friendship on a different level than him. Of course, she wasn’t really into Keith, she came out like a week after they started dating and broke up with him after kissing Jessica Klein at a house party, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Steve had ditched you and it made your heart hurt.

You couldn’t help but watch him run out of his front door and into his car. You watched it pull out of his driveway and out onto the road. It was clear to you now, Steve was more interested in passing English than he was in being your friend. Vicki Clarke was the girl to pay attention, no matter how he acted around you.

So why pretend like he was your friend at all?