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bestillmyslashyheart · 4 years

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not broken, beautiful

Alex’s mark had been covered his entire life.

That wasn’t an exaggeration. To date, the only people who had seen it were his mother, the doctor who birthed him, and the nurse who handed him to his mother. The second his mother saw the mark she covered it up and lied to whoever asked about why.

It had remained covered ever since. His father and brothers were under the impression it was a male name and it was this shame that made his mother hide it and caused his father to never ask to see it. His brothers had tried to get him to reveal it when he was younger, a new form of torment he recognized even as a young child, but neither he nor his mother ever even revealed its location so they had no luck.

In the military, he used makeup to cover it up for his physicals and proudly named himself one of the unmarked. The unmarked made up less than 5% of the world’s population and usually comprised those who would die young, before they could meet their mates. It was said that forgoing a mark on these unfortunate souls was the universe’s kiss of death; bare skin was a warning not to make any plans for a long life.

Alex was fine with the world assuming he was one of those. When his unit was ambushed in Afghanistan he started to believe that he’d told the lie so many times it had come true. He woke up in the hospital a week later convinced the universe had made a mistake. Three of his squad mates had marks but hadn’t met the women they belonged to yet. They hadn’t made it out and yet somehow Alex had.

Alex with his broken mark. He got to live and they didn’t. It wasn’t fair.

---

He was four when he started to really understand. His mother had always dabbed her makeup on his skin when no one was looking and called it their little secret. It was a game to him at first. Could he be a good boy and not tell anyone that he wore mommy’s makeup?

Yes. Alex was very good at being a good boy.

Because not being good meant yelling. Sometimes directed at him, most times not. He didn’t want to get his mother in trouble so Alex didn’t tell anyone about the makeup. Or the mark it hid.

His brothers’ marks were displayed proudly. On their hands, their legs, their necks.

Ella

Claire

Kara

Alex’s was different. He didn’t understand why or what it meant but he understood enough to know that different was bad. His father made sure of that.

They thought it was a boy’s name. He heard them say it. They sounded mean when they said it but they never sounded unsure. Alex had stared at his mark in the middle of the night when he was supposed to be sleeping, a flashlight lighting up the little tent he made of his bed sheet, and it wasn’t a boy’s name. It wasn’t a name at all.

His mother left when he was ten. She made him promise never to reveal his mark, not to even mention where on his body it was in fear that someone would try to find it, and she left him a large supply of makeup to cover it up.

She didn’t try to take him with her.

Two years later his father seemed to finally accept the lie that his mother had told, that Alex was destined for another boy, and made his disapproval known. Alex knew then, if he’d had any doubts before, that he could never show his mark to his father. He wasn’t sure the mark would survive the meeting.

---

Alex was seventeen the first time he wished his mark was a name instead of what it was. He’d fallen in love with a beautiful boy and he wanted to keep him forever. More importantly, he wanted to belong to him.

But Michael didn’t have a mark. Not unless he was better at hiding it than even Alex was. His skin wasn’t perfect, too many scars marred it, but it was free of any names. Alex had checked. Thoroughly.

Michael thought it was great. The two of them, free from destiny’s interference, he called it. He said they were free to make their own choices, to fall in love with whoever, not who their skin told them too.

Alex liked the idea of it. He liked the idea that he could choose Michael and be chosen in return, simply for who they were. But the lie burned him from the inside out. Every time he touched Michael, every time he kissed him, he felt the mark on his skin as a tangible thing. Because, for better or worse, Alex did have a destiny. There was someone waiting for him, even if he had no way of figuring out who.

Or what. The mark really wasn’t clear.

What was clear was that though people regularly dated and even married people who didn’t match their mark, no one with a mark had ever been with someone without a mark. Not for more than a night. It was just asking for heartbreak.

And Alex had had enough heartbreak already.

When his father brought home the enlistment papers, Alex signed them. It was better to leave than be left, right? Better to get out now, get away from Michael now, then suffer his loss when the world tore him away.

The unmarked never got happy endings.

---

At 27, he wakes up in a hospital and his first thought is of his mark. He had no idea how long it had been since the accident, no idea who had touched him or bathed him or seen his bare skin. The thought of strange eyes on him, on it, made his skin crawl.

He waited until he was alone before checking. A breath of relief fled him when he found his synthetic skin intact, the edges of it visible against his skin but it clearly hadn’t been removed so Alex didn’t care. He ran a finger over it when the nurse came in to check on him.

“Your records show that you’re unmarked,” the woman said, blunt as only a military nurse could be.

“Yes they do,” Alex agreed.

She smirked. “We didn’t remove it.”

“I know.” Alex paused. “Why not?”

She busied herself recording his vitals. “It’s none of our business, Captain.” She looked at him. “Your mark is yours. If you want to lie to the US military about it, far be it from me to expose you.” She winked.

“Thank you,” Alex told her sincerely.

“You’re welcome.”

She left and came back half an hour later with a new chart and her makeup bag. When she left the room, the makeup bag stayed on the table next to him in easy reaching distance. By the time she came back, even the edges of the skin patch were unnoticeable.

Even so, in the quiet hours of the night Alex found himself running a finger over it, tracing the mark he couldn’t see, hadn’t really seen in years, the shape of it ingrained in him. Some said that soulmates could feel each other’s pain, even before meeting. With a sad look at the empty space at the end of his right leg, Alex hoped they were wrong. Whoever his soulmate was, he hoped they never felt his pain.

---

It wasn’t even a year after his accident that Alex started to understand. The mark had blemished his skin every second of his life and he’d never understood until he knocked his father out and broke into his command center to rifle through his secure files.

Aliens. Aliens were real.

It was the stuff of science fiction and Alex desperately wanted to scoff in disbelief. He might’ve too if Michael’s photo hadn’t popped up on his screen, a warning labelling him a dangerous threat underneath. Hell, he still might’ve if the next thing that popped up wasn’t a long scroll of text that wasn’t in English.

It wasn’t in any Earthly language, actually. And yet, Alex knew it.

Strange symbols with no meaning to him whatsoever filled the screen and Alex’s heart stopped beating.

A pressing need for air forced him to breath after a few seconds but he was frozen in place. He knew that language. Knew it like the back of his hand. Or-

“Aliens are real,” his father’s voice jolted him out of his head and back to the present. “And they are more dangerous than you could possibly imagine.”

It all made sense now. Why his mother had hidden his mark from his father, of all people. Why letting his father know he was gay from the time he was born was the better solution, even though she had to have known how homophobic he was. Better he was gay than fated to an extraterrestrial.

---

Michael was an alien. Alex’s mark was in an alien language. It seemed too good to be true.

Except the part where Michael still didn’t have a mark. And Alex had no idea what his mark actually said. It was entirely possible that his mark didn’t say Michael.

It didn’t stop him from getting his hopes up. It didn’t stop him from going to Michael and trying again after having avoided him for so long.

It did, however, make him frantic to decode the language. The sooner he had a clear answer, the better. Once he knew for sure, one way or the other, he could go back to Michael with a clear head and a plan.

It was weeks before he figured it out and even then it was only thanks to Kyle.

“Why is this so important?” Kyle asked for the third time as Alex ignored him to try and install a translation service based on the information Jim had left them.

“You never know what secrets my dad could be hiding.” The official, and unofficial, story was still that Alex didn’t have a mark. If that changed, if Alex admitted the truth, it wasn’t going to be to Kyle.

“In the alien language?” Kyle asked skeptically.

Alex shrugged, his fingers flying across the keyboard. “You never know,” was all he said.

Two days after that, Alex had his answer.

After 28 years, he finally knew the name of his soulmate. It wasn’t Michael.

---

Alex wallowed for a day and then decided he didn’t care. He loved Michael. He’d accepted that long ago no matter how much he’d tried to bury it. Their soulmarks, or lack thereof, didn’t matter. Michael’s species was gone, and with it, more than likely his soulmate. And Michael may not have a mark but none of his people did. For the first time in a decade, Alex wasn’t paralyzed by the fear that Michael was going to die young, before they had any time to be together.

It was just his luck that Michael decided to move on just as Alex got his shit together.

It was really just his luck that Maria decided after 20 years that Michael Guerin was the Michael on her ribcage.

Alex understood, he did. Michael needed to be needed and nothing said need like your name etched onto someone’s body. And Maria looked happier than ever, a sense of lightness to her that Alex had seen in others who had recently met their matches. Alex was happy for them, truly. How could he resent someone for the very bond he told himself he didn’t crave?

He ignored the pain in his chest when Maria started wearing tops that revealed her mark. It was common to display the mark once you’d found your match and she and Michael both seemed sure that he was so really, Alex had no reason to be hurt by it. Besides, he’d seen Maria’s mark plenty of times when they were younger. They’d spent hours considering every Michael they’d ever met, wondering which one was fated to be Maria’s.

Alex remembered when Maria discounted Michael Guerin the second Liz suggested him when they were 14. He remembered when she did it again when they were 16. And 21. And 26.

He wasn’t sure what had changed for her to be so sure of it now, but he couldn’t doubt her. Not when she smiled like that. Not when Michael looked at her like that.

---

Tripp Manes’ journal was a veritable treasure trove of information. Alex silently thanked the man for writing down everything that he had and for ensuring it was protected all these years. He, Michael, and Isobel sat in the Crashdown pouring over it for hours, analyzing every page, adding each new reveal to the facts they’d already known.

It wasn’t until they got to the last few pages that Alex realized exactly how valuable a find it was.

Patricia,

I don’t know how to ask this of you. I’m sure your mother has already told you all of this but in case she wasn’t able for any reason, I want you to finish my mission. Nora asked me to keep the children safe. There are three of them, sleeping in the desert. She says they won’t wake up until June 14, 1997. By that time, I’ll be long gone. Someone needs to look out for them. One of them is Nora’s son. Another is Louise’s daughter, your sister. There is a third child, too, who must be raised well.

Please find them, if you can. Make sure they are safe and cared for.

Nora was unsure how much they would remember of their lives before, something about their stasis affecting their memories. If they do remember, call them by their names and they should trust you. Louise’s daughter, your sister, is named Vilandra. Nora’s son is called Rath. And the third child is Zan.

Nora wrote their names for me once and I’ve transcribed them here as best I can. Hopefully they will recognize the writing if not their names.

Keep them safe. Protect them, please.

Tripp Manes

Below each of their birth names was a string of symbols denoting it in their own language. Michael and Isobel leaned over it eagerly, their fingers tracing the curves of their own names.

Alex sat opposite them staring at the page unblinking.

“Alex?” Michael asked. Alex looked up slowly, his eyes forced to blink. “Are you okay?”

Alex nodded. “I’m fine.” His voice sounded wrong to his own ears. It clearly didn’t sound any better to the other two if the raised eyebrows were any indication. “I have to go.”

“Wait, Alex!” Michael reached for him but Alex slipped out of the booth before he could grab hold.

He tossed an, “I’ll see you later,” over his shoulder as he escaped out the door. The second he thought he might be out of sight he put a hand over his mark, inexplicably feeling it burn at the touch.

Somehow he ended up at the hospital outside of Maria’s room. He hovered awkwardly in the shadow of the doorway, unsure what to say or even really what he was doing there.

“Alex?” He heard her call. And well, who was he to ignore a woman bed ridden in the hospital? Especially when that woman was Maria.

“Hey,” he greeted softly as he stepped into the room. She was sitting up in bed and looked better than the last time he had seen her. “How are you feeling?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been better. I’ve also been a lot worse so-” she laughed and Alex found himself chuckling along with her.

“You look better,” he told her. She smiled in thanks. “You also look like you’re about to make a break for it.”

“Well,” she shrugged, a grin twisting at her lips. “You gonna cover me?”

“I’ll drive the getaway car,” he promised.

They settled into a comfortable silence as he pulled a chair up next to her bedside. “Thank you for the box.”

Her eyes lit up. “You read the journal? Was it helpful?”

“It was,” he confirmed. “Isobel and Guerin couldn’t get enough of it.” Maria’s face fell at Michael’s name. “Everything okay?”

Maria picked at her hospital bracelet. “We broke up.”

Alex leaned forward in shock. “What? Why? He’s your-” he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

But Maria was already shaking her head. “No, he’s not.” She sniffed. “I wanted him to be but it never felt quite right. It never felt like everyone said it’s supposed to feel. He’s, he’s amazing. And I love him,” she said, slightly apologetic, “but he’s not meant for me. And maybe we could have made it work regardless but we want different things and I need to put myself first, you know? I need to do what’s right for me. So I ended it.”

Alex stood up only to sit back down on her bed. He took her hand in his, not wanting to push. “I’m sorry. I know how much you too care about each other.” His mark burned.

“Yeah. But when it’s not meant to be, it’s not meant to be. And I’d rather it end now then continue until we’re both miserable. This way we’re friends, right? No hard feelings, no heartbreak…” She leaned towards Alex and he took it as his cue to wrap his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Alex.”

“What could you possibly be sorry for?”

“That you don’t have a mark,” she confessed quietly. “Even when everything is awful and I’m at my lowest point, I have my mark. My Michael is out there somewhere and we are destined for each other. Knowing that has got me through some hard times. I can’t imagine not having it.”

There was a lump in his throat. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Only if you want to share.”

Alex pressed his forehead to the top of Maria’s head, grateful that she couldn’t see him right now. He’d never told anyone, not in his entire life. “I do have a mark.” Maria stiffened in his arms but she didn’t try to look at him and Alex could’ve wept in gratitude. “My mom covered it up the day I was born and made me promise never to reveal it,” he confessed. “So I didn’t.”

“You’ve had a mark this whole time?” Maria sounded awed. “God, Alex, that’s incredible.” She didn’t ask why he’d lied. It was a good thing too, since Alex knew he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Not yet.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “Incredible.”

---

Michael wasn’t here. Not that Alex was expecting him, that wasn’t the point of this whole endeavor, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Michael to hear the song Alex had written for him.

Forrest called his name and Alex took his place at the keyboard. He paused a moment to take in a steadying breath, his brother nodding at him in encouragement from the audience, and then he began to play.

Michael appeared not long after he started. Their eyes met across the room and Alex had to smile. There was a look of gentle disbelief on Michael’s face, his eyes alight as he watched Alex, that made Alex feel like he could fly. Any hesitation, any nerves he had left in him, was gone, just like that.

He lost himself in the music for a while and when he looked back, Michael was gone. Isobel was right behind him but she glanced at Alex one last time and he made sure to make eye contact. She shrugged apologetically even as Alex tried to ask her to get Michael back here with his eyes alone.

She left. And Michael didn’t come back.

Alex finished the song and accepted his applause graciously. He hugged Forrest tightly, thankful for his encouragement to get up on that stage in the first place, and then he followed Michael.

“You’re an idiot!” He heard Isobel before he saw her.

“Give me my keys, Iz!” Michael’s voice was quieter than Isobel’s.

Alex rounded the corner of the bar to see the siblings standing off in front of Michael’s truck, his keys clutched firmly in Isobel’s hand. “Don’t run away, Michael. It doesn’t suit you.” Alex thought Isobel might actually say tsk tsk, the reprimand was so clear in her voice.

Michael glared at her. “Sure it does.”

“Guerin.” Alex stepped into the light. Michael turned to him and froze. Isobel, on the other hand, looked positively gleeful as she turned and tossed the keys to him.

“I leave him in your capable hands.” She flounced back inside, stopping briefly to lay a hand on his shoulder. “By the way, I liked the song.”

Alex and Michael listened to her footsteps fade away, the noise of the bar spilling into the night as she went back inside.

“Your song was amazing,” Michael exhaled.

“Thank you,” Alex told him sincerely. He started closing the gap between them in slow, easy steps. Michael didn’t move away. “I wrote it for you. About us.”

Michael closed his eyes. “You can’t say things like that Alex.” It almost sounded like a whine.

“Why not?” Alex shrugged. He stopped moving, nearly close enough to touch Michael if he reached. “It’s the truth.”

“We’re supposed to be moving on.”

“Says who?”

Michael didn’t answer that. “Forrest looked pleased.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Yeah well he’s been pushing me to get up there for weeks so I imagine he was happy to succeed.”

“You should get back in there then. He’s probably waiting for you.”

Alex shook his head. “Maybe he is, but I doubt it. I did just publicly sing a love song I wrote about another guy. I can’t imagine he thinks I’m available to start anything with him.”

Michael scrunched up his nose. “Alex, you deserve to be happy.”

“Why are you trying to get me to go back inside?” Alex cocked his head. “Do you really want me to go? Do you really want me to be with someone else?”

“No!” Michael took a small step towards him, his hand floundering in the space between them as he reached for Alex but stopped himself. “I just want you to be happy.”

Alex nodded slowly. “Do you think I’d be happy with my soulmate?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have a mark.”

“I do, actually.” Alex stifled a smile at the shocked look on Michael’s face. “My mom covered it up when I was born and told me never to tell anyone. Said it was my secret and the world didn’t need to know.”

“So you lied.”

“Yes.” In one careful movement, Alex unclasped the thick band of his watch from his left wrist and bared his skin to Michael’s eyes. “Mom seemed to think that flaunting a mark written in an alien language would be a bad idea. I agreed.”

Michael grabbed his hand and turned his wrist to see it better. Alex let him look. It was the first time anyone had seen it in over 20 years and it was a heady feeling.

“Alex,” Michael breathed. He looked up at him with wonder in his eyes. “This is-”

Alex smiled. “Imagine my surprise when I saw my mark written in my great-uncle’s journal. In all the Project Shepherd files, I never saw anything that looked like it.” He shrugged. “I did my best to translate it but the translation didn’t mean anything to me. Not until yesterday.”

“This is my name,” Michael said wondrously. “You have my name, Alex.”

“I do,” Alex agreed. “I get to keep you, forever.” He tapped his wrist. “Right here.” He tapped his heart. “And here.”

“Alex,” Michael laughed. “You can’t say shit like that.”

“I’m talking to my soulmate, I get to say ridiculously cheesy lines.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “I’m your soulmate.” He dropped Alex’s hand. “I don’t have a mark, Alex.”

“I know,” Alex reached for him. “None of your people do. It’s a human thing. But I don’t need you to have my name, Michael. Hell, I didn’t need to have your name, it’s just a really great feeling that I do.” He reached up and cupped the back of Michael’s head. “I meant what I wrote in the song. You are the best of me, Michael.”

Michael inhaled shakily. “I think I missed that part.”

“That’s what you get for leaving early.”

“Never again,” Michael promised immediately. He shook his head. “Never again.”

Alex smiled.

“So now what?” Michael asked after a beat of silence. “Where do we go from here?”

“Pizza?” Alex asked. “Grab a movie?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “You want to go on a date?”

“Why not? We’ve never done it. Might as well give it a shot.”

Michael was quiet. “I just broke up with Maria.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think I can jump right into a new relationship, not even with you. I’m sorry.”

“So it’s not a date,” Alex shrugged. “We can invite other people, make it a group thing. I just want to spend time with you. We can take it slow. Wait a bit. However you want this to go.”

“I can’t ask you to wait until I’m ready, Alex. That’s not fair.”

“Maybe not. But I’ve found my soulmate, Michael. Nobody else can compare to you, there’s no point in trying.”

Michael groaned and dropped his forehead against Alex’s, his hand gripping Alex’s shirt. “I don’t know if I can handle any more of these lines.”

Alex smirked. “I’m sure you’ll get used to them.”

“I guess I’m going to have to.” Alex hummed in agreement. “I’m okay with that.”

“Good.”

#oh look a soulmate au #malex fic #rnm #my fic #s2 compliant

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 3 years

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y’know the wildest thing still to happen to me on this hellsite was my first experience of sexting, sans nudes, that was done in front of at least 250-500 followers because of those horny anons i had in early 2013 when i was 17. instead of being exposed to it on my phone privately with a partner at that age, it was done publicly for the internet to see lmao. i remember begging the anons to stop and “come off anon” because i was “losing followers” at the time too bc i was so insecure about my follower count lmao. and then yeah when they came off anon they were both 28 years old.

to write the responses, i just consulted cosmo mag sex pages for ideas hoping that the anons would like the options i chose. in one i detailed doing anal- a sex act i hadn’t even done yet irl- let alone every other thing i suggested in them (head, idek long, drawn out foreplay, some stupid fancy sex moves that cosmo was all like “use these moves to spice up your sex life 🔥🔥”, sex in a bath, i’m pretty sure i had some lines about tying or handcuffing them to a bed (????) etc etc etc)….

when again, i had never even done any of those above sex acts in real life. i was a naive teen who was incredibly shy in regards towards her love life because she’d “never been kissed” and had never had the “hot emo boyfriend whose in a band and is covered in tattoos” she’d always wanted, let alone even a boyfriend that she had actually fucking liked (ie clear braces boy, for like a month in year 9/2010 vs the popular boys that made fun of her, that she always had unrequited crushes on)…. hell, my blog title when i first started on here in 2011 was “the perfect epitome of being forever alone” because of these very reasons. but here she was, writing explicit sex acts to strangers like she knew what the fuck she was doing, to an audience of 250-500 people- and then to fucking grown ass men in inboxes. i was just parroting the shit i’d read in cosmo (both sex advice and sometimes excerpts of erotica/“sexy, steamy reads” they had some months) and also heard repeatedly in the porn that my high school stalker/creeper at public school loved to show (harass) me with to flirt with me, whenever we were alone together at school in 2012/2013.

like you could tell how naive i was….. because i used ridiculous lines like “like a gentleman entranced, you lead me to the bath for our next foray” and dumbass prose-y things like that. because what the fuck does that even mean 😂😅????

and this is why i think minors should be careful with their online experiences. like yeah, you could say that i wasn’t a minor anymore- more of a “young adult”- who should of made the smart decision to not engage with these anons. but i was a kid. i thought it was fun. and when the dudes came off anon, i thought to myself “it’s not like i’m ever gonna meet them if i ever go to the US or puerto rico at any point. it’s not like that they’ll ever recognise me in person or ever reach out to me again in the future. i might as well do it.” and i did eventually end up ignoring the guys in my inbox, due to my mental health kinda plummeting from the middle til the end of 2013 because of my end of high school exams and stuff… and also the puerto rican guy’s infamously inappropriate “hot PE teacher fucks HOT female high school student in the girls change room showers” fantasy which fucking disgusted me, when he full well knew that i was STILL IN high school.

and obviously again, there’s the point about using the “block” button function. but as i’ve stated several times over my years on here, back in my early days of tumblr, i never wanted to block or unfollow people (even if they were trash like these two men), because it seemed so “mean” and “final”. obvs now i have no qualms about blocking people, and actively encourage younger people on here to use the block button with reckless abandon towards creepy people or people who can hurt them in some way. but to high school teenage me, the whole “using the block button” thing seemed to go against me being a “nice girl/person” so i never used it, no matter which social media platform i was on.

this is why i’m hella scared for young teen girls on tik tok wanting to have onlyfans accounts: because it’s where they’ll be exposed to ACTUAL CREEPS AND PREDATORS incredibly quickly; all because they can make money off selling images of just their feet or eventually their body….. depending on what these creepy strangers demand from them….. and they’ll feel like they’ll have to do it…. but to do it before you even start experimenting properly with relationships and sex is even worse. like. yeah. i’ve admitted before that i originally started this tumblr to possibly post nudes, to see if i’d get the positive feedback that i so desperately wanted/craved from the boys in my year at catholic school- eg. to be called “sexy”, “hot”, “fuckable” possibly “beautiful”- like some of the so called “popular girls” got on their hella basic bikini photos back then (like i remember one girl i knew ended up with like 500 likes and a fair amount of comments on one of her bikini pics and i was INCREDIBLY BITTER because not even a pic of me with a nice outfit on, my hair done and makeup on could EVER get those numbers, let alone even break over the double digits).

but i decided posting nudes or other explicit images on here was an absolute no go, because i realised that i never wanted people that i knew digging up barely clothed/naked pics of me and sending them to me all like “hey, is this you?” and then possibly mocking me, all because i would’ve been dumb enough to put my face in them probably at the time. now when i take nudes and send them, i never show my face. because i know now, that even in relationships, your partner can use nude pics as leverage for arguments or to abuse you in such a way that they’ll upload your pics without your knowledge to god knows where on the internet probably as a way to get back at you in a horrible breakup.

this is what i sincerely hope some young girls who ever contemplate starting onlyfans accounts take some time SERIOUSLY CONSIDER. please know that if you share shit on onlyfans, it can shared and re-shared (i think idek how OF works tbh) to god knows who- and eventually end up in the hands of people you know. i don’t fucking care if it’s a “good way to make money!” or if people think that im trying to stop teen girls from being “girl bosses” and the other dumb as fuck internet memes you want to throw at me. because this shit isn’t “haha internet meme funny” material. it’s some fucking serious stuff. and also, i’m not saying “don’t become a sex worker when you’re older” or whatever either. you’re free to make that choice when you’re in your 20s (no i even mean 17-19 year olds in this post as “young teen girls”- sorry you’re basically kids to me at almost 26). just please consider where the fuck your stuff can be shared to. who it can end up being shared with or to.

this is why i was so fucking adamant with my infamous old follower mr adelaide fuckboy/MAF that i personally would NOT consider becoming a camgirl for him or just generally… because i had no idea where the fuck my images or videos would end up. and do you know the places i’d never want them to fucking be??? in the hands of my high school stalker/creeper. in the hands of those two 28yo men from 2013 (who’d now be in there late 30s or early 40s). i absolutely don’t want them in the hands the mid-to-late 20s and early 30s men that that girl i met at public school in 2012 who was pissed that i didn’t believe that were “adults” because we were finally over the legal age of consent (16) in our state of australia, and so we were apparently fine to “fuck” literal grown ass men because “just fuck them and they’ll be nice to you!!” which i knew was fucking bullshit.

i absolutely don’t fucking want explicit videos/images of me ending up in “why the fuck won’t you let me give you “sex lessons” in the back of my car as a “favour” and as payment for teaching you how to drive you stupid, stuck up & frigid, virgin bitch!?” guy’s hands from 2014 (when i was 18/19 at the time and he was 25… he ended up being the first person of many i’d EVER block on social media lol). or i don't want them in the hands of those weird early 20s dudes (one of which was trying to set me up with his friend) who hit on me at 16/17 (2012) who were angry that i didn’t like and watch porn as much as they did…. and who promptly asked me at the end of their period of harassing of me: “do you know any sluts we could add?” because i kept refusing their suggestions etc.

hell, quite frankly i don’t even want them to go to mr adelaide fuckboy/MAF either, but the very few and far between nudes that i sent on snapchat to him back in 2016 are some nudes that i’d rather forget lmao. hell. i don’t even know if MAF ever deleted my nudes or shared them somewhere else or not, after he fucking wheedled them out of me with “i’ve followed you for 4 years, don’t be a shit! you owe me nudes!” so he’d just shut the fuck up about my social life decisions and leave me the fuck alone.

i don’t want ANY ONE of the guys i mentioned above to get their hands on photos of minors either…. because i definitely know my hs stalker/creeper would… because his fave “make her jealous” tactic that he’s always used on me is that “hey…. i’m dating a *insert teenage girl’s age here*! be fucking jealous that you don’t fucking have me and feel guilty that you won’t fuck me like this girl does!!!” just like he did in 2015, when i ran into him on the home from uni… when i turned 20 the next week and he turned 20 that december. at that time it was a 14yo girl he used as an example of him “dating”/“fucking” to make me jealous. instead, i was completely and utterly fucking disgusted. like any fucking sane and normal human being would/should be at that horrible age gap. that is literally a fucking child that he was fucking grooming. and we were literal adults. back the fuck away.

just please. PLEASE CONSIDER the types of people that trawl these kinds of sites and their intentions. please consider that you are young. very fucking young. you literally DO NOT need to upload nudes to the internet because it’s apparently a “lucrative” business. fuck the jokey “boss babe” rhetoric around it all the way to fucking hell.

because if you’re a minor: i do not want you to have your first experience of sexting or sending explicit images literally in front of god knows how many total strangers for the whole world to see (okay i know only fans is like subscriber/follower based or whatever. but i don’t care)…… even when you (depending how good you are with relationships etc) haven’t reached the common supposed milestones of your “first boyfriend/girlfriend/partner” or “first kiss” or have even “lost your virginity” (which isn’t real anyway- don’t buy this fucking bullshit)…. just like i stupidly did with my exposure to sexting here on my tumblr back in 2013. these people don’t/won’t give a flying fuck about your privacy or safety. they don’t/won’t give a fuck about your boundaries either.

please don’t possibly scar yourself for life, just because you’re being told that it’s a quick & convenient way to make some money for weirdos on the depths of the internet. you will regret it in future. just like i do now with mine. it should’ve been something personal between me and and a guy i trusted and liked at the time. not to some random 250-500 random strangers on this hellsite (okay the notes on these posts were literally single digits or non-existent, but still… and also some of my irl friends who had tumblr saw these posts as well) for a show….. and then privately with two 28yo literal grown ass men…. who should’ve been fucking hitting on women their own goddamned age and in their own countries and NOT a 17yo high school KID (at the time) from australia; who, now in her 20s, needs therapy to sort this shit out lmao. mind you they both reeled me in with the “you’re so mature for your age” bullshit line…. which i fell for a little bit, even if it did make me feel kinda gross at the time, too. don’t fall for that bullshit either.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #relationships i guess #internet stuff #this went in a bigger direction that i thought it would lmao #but anyway

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heauxplesslydevoted · 5 years

Text

A Night To Remember (M! Raleigh x MC)

Warnings: Language. NSFW. Like 80% fluff, 20% smut.

Summary: Cassandra has a Grammy night to remember

Word Count: 5.7K

I honestly had three different versions of how I wanted this story to play out, but I settled on this one. Enjoy!

~~/~~

“It’s not a Zadie Choi original, but you look stunning,” Zadie says, circling Cassandra like a hawk.

Cassandra ran her hands down the front of the very expensive embellished Naeem Khan mini dress she was wearing. She was nervous, she didn’t really know what to do with her hands.“Thank you.”

“I need you to stop moving though.”

“I’m nervous!”

It was Cassandra’s first Grammy’s appearance ever. She wasn’t presenting an award or performing, but she was nominated in multiple categories. Best New Artist, Best Pop Vocal Album for The Odyssey, and Song and Record of the Year for Knockout.

“I swear to God, if you throw up on this five thousand dollar dress, I’ll kill you,” Zadie threatens.

Cassandra examines herself in the floor length mirror propped up against the couch in her hotel suite. Well, she’s doing the best can, with a makeup artist doing last minute touch ups to her lipstick. They booked the Presidential Penthouse Suite at the Waldorf Astoria in Beverly Hills to get ready for the awards show. She’s never been in such a fancy hotel before and it only adds to the nervousness.

She touches her chest. The plunging v-neck cut of the dress doesn’t leave much to the imagination, and she feels exposed. “Tell me again why I can’t wear a necklace?”

“This dress is the focal point, we don’t need a necklace, causing confusion and distraction,” Zadie explains. She swats Cassandra’s hands away. “Stop touching!”

“Sorry.”

Fiona checks her watch. “Raleigh! Are you ready?”

His voice comes through loud and clear from the bedroom. “I’m ready!” He steps out, fidgeting with his cuffs, and does a little spin.

“Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes,” Cassandra says drinking him in.

Raleigh slowly looks Cassandra up and down, stopping at his favorite points of contact: her face, her cleavage and her legs. Cassandra feels her face heat up under his careful gaze. “You look gorgeous, mi amor.”

“Thank you.” Cassandra gestures to her chest . “It’s not too much, is it?”

“Absolutely not.” Raleigh glides over to Cassandra. He pulls her in by the waist, kissing her gently. He bends down and whispers quietly to her, “How do you expect me to keep my hands off of you when you look this good?” before kissing her again.

Fiona grabs the back of his tuxedo jacket and tugs it. “Down boy. Save it for later.”

“I’ll try.”

“And you’ll succeed,” Zadie says sharply. “This dress better stay in tact tonight, and her hair and makeup need to look flawless in the red carpet photos.”

Fiona checks the time on her watch. “Alright, we need to be heading out now. Cassandra, are you ready to kill your first Grammy’s appearance?”

Cassandra takes a deep breath before nodding. “I’m ready.”

“Then let’s go win some awards.”

~~/~~

“Cassandra! Cassandra, over here!”

“Cassandra, who are you wearing?”

“Cassandra are you the surprise performer for tonight?”

At this point in her career, Cassandra is no stranger to having bright lights and cameras in her face, but being on the Grammy’s red carpet is a different experience entirely. Everything is heightened. The lights, the cameras, the reporters, the people, the screaming fans standing outside, even Staples Center seems bigger than usual.

“Oh my God,” is all Cassandra can say.

“Yeah, it’s a bit of a circus.” Raleigh grabs her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “If you get too overwhelmed, we can go inside.”

“Okay.”

Cassandra looks around at the crowds of people, and she can’t believe she’s here. So many artists and musicians that she’s looked up to, she’s literally standing a few feet away from them. She can actually see the top of Pharrell’s head from where she’s standing!

Raleigh pulls her along, over to a reporter from E! News, who’s waving them down in hopes for an interview.

“Raleigh, Cassandra, thanks for stopping by. You two both look absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you,” Raleigh says. He points to Cassandra. “But she’s the real stunner tonight.”

Cassandra puts her head down so no one could see her blush. Even after months of dating (both fake and real) Raleigh, she stills feels herself wanting to melt into a puddle of goo at his words.

“Cassandra, it’s your first time at the Grammy’s,” the reporters starts, “and you’ve been nominated for four awards. How does it feel?

“It feels like a really good dream that I’ve yet to wake up from,” Cassandra answers honestly. “It’s surreal, and I’m incredibly blessed.”

“And Raleigh, you’ve been nominated for one Grammy tonight, your sixteenth nomination. If you win, it’ll be your tenth one win, sixth as a solo artist. Is that exciting?”

“Really exciting . It feels great to still be acknowledged for my work, as I’ve been in this industry for over 12 years now. But to be honest, I’m more excited for my amazing girlfriend. She’s so ridiculously talented, not just as a singer but as a songwriter, and she deserves every bit of praise and recognition that’s coming her way.”

As cheesy as it is, Cassandra is pretty sure she’s giving Raleigh literal heart eyes.

“Well, aren't you two just the cutest couple,” the reporter coos as her cameraman pans in on them. “All right lovebirds, go enjoy the show! And good luck!”

After stopping to give a few more interviews, they finally were able to walk the red carpet and take pictures.

“You still holding up?” Raleigh asks once they’re done posing.

“The closer we get to the show, the more anxious I feel,” Cassandra admits.

“You’re going to kill it,” Raleigh says, his voice low so no one around can hear. “You’re going to win all of the awards and be cemented in history as a bonafide superstar.”

“I wish I had your unwavering confidence.”

“You have all of me, which is an even better deal.”

Cassandra quickly presses a kiss onto Raleigh’s lips, ignoring the clicks of the cameras. “Smooth operator.”

“I’m just so damn charming, aren’t I?”

“You’re okay,” Cassandra teases. Raleigh gently nudges her. “Hey!”

“I’m more than okay, darling.”

“Fine. You’re amazing.”

“Damn right I am.”

The inside the stadium is a completely different beast. Cassandra can practically feel the energy radiating off of the people. It’s chaotic and electric.

She and Raleigh sit in the second row, which surprises her. Raleigh has to remind her that she’s a real celebrity now, and important, relevant celebrities get the best seat. She’s a few seats away from Avery and Micah thankfully, from where she’s sitting she can see the back of Beyoncé’s head. It’s beautiful.

There are a lot of random categories that she had no idea existed because they’ve never been shown on TV, and the show is much longer than she thought. But she doesn’t mind, because Katy Perry is hosting and she’s great. She keeps everyone’s energy up, she’s charismatic, and she actually performs a few of her classics.

Rihanna and Nick Jonas are the celebrity due chosen to present the Best Pop Vocal Album and Cassandra is so busy marveling at how pretty Rihanna’s dress is, that she barely listens to what she’s actually saying. She tunes back in just in time to hear all of the nominees get called.

“And the winner is…The Odyssey by Cassandra Paige!”

It takes her a few seconds to realize that Nick actually called her name. A camera is in her face, and she vaguely feels someone hugging her, but it mostly feels like an out of body experience.

When she finally comes to, she surges forward and kisses Raleigh excitedly. He’s wearing the biggest grin on her face and he’s saying something, but she can barely hear her over the thunderous applause.

Someone helps Cassandra out of the seat and down the long aisle. She’s very thankful that she doesn't trip and fall on the stairs on her way up to the stage.

Her entire body is shaking as she hugs Nick and Rihanna (who smells amazing), and accepts the award, which is pretty heavy. She steps up the mic and waits for the applause to calm down a bit so she can speak.

“Um...I wasn’t really expecting to win,” Cassandra admits. “Because of that, please bear with me as I fumble through this acceptance speech, because I don’t have one prepared. Just last year, I was a small town girl making videos for PlayMe and singing in empty bars and at times it’s hard to believe all of this is even my life. I’m a freaking Grammy winner! I’d like to thank my parents first and foremost. Mom and dad, I know you’re watching and you’re going to be bragging to all of your co-workers, so hi.” The audience politely laughs at her. She spots Avery in the crowd, smiling brightly. “I’d like to thank Avery Wilshire for being an amazing mentor and a dear friend, I don’t think I’d be here if it weren’t for you. Thank you Ellis Knight and everyone at Overknight Records for taking a chance on me, from the sound engineers, to the mixers, to the producers. To Ozone aka Micah, my ridiculously talented producer and friend, thank you for believing in me and giving me tough love when needed. You are special, you are brilliant, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. This award is as much yours as it is mine.” Micah waves at her from the crowd. He knows she said that to settle his insecurities and anxiety over being a good producer and he’s appreciative.

“Shane, thank you for being my best friend, and editing and uploading all of my videos online, which got me recognition in the first place. Thanks to my lovely manager Fiona for taking a chance on me, and my amazing stylist Zadie you keep me looking great. Thank you to my wonder fans, anyone who has listened to me, suggested my music to someone, left a nice comment, all of it. I don’t take any of the support for granted and it doesn’t go unnoticed.”

Cassandra takes a deep shuddering breath. “And to my amazing boyfriend, Raleigh Carerra. You are the best support system. You’ve had my back since the beginning, and I am so grateful for you. You are my piece of sanity in this world, my safe haven. I probably would’ve gone insane if I didn’t have you anchoring me down to earth. I love you, baby.”

The music slowly starts playing and Cassandra knows that’s her cue to get off stage. “Thank you again to everyone, I love you all!”

Cassandra is quickly ushered backstage into a sea of chaos. She’s greeted by Fiona, and Raleigh. “What are you guys doing back here?”

“We’re celebrities,” Raleigh deadpans. “We can do what we want.”

Fiona throws her arms around Cassandra and squeezes her, an extremely rare showcase of emotion. “Your first Grammy! How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” Cassandra replies. “I’m shaking. I think I might throw up.”

“You have three more categories to go. Try to keep it together.”

Raleigh wraps his arms around Cassandra from behind and kisses the back of her head. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You fucking killed it.”

“Thank you.”

Raleigh spins Cassandra around and catches her mouth, giving her a proper kiss. She has to remind herself to not drop her Grammy to the ground and wrap her arms around him. For those few short moments, the hustle and bustle of backstage fades away, and they’re just Cassandra and Raleigh.

“Okay, you two it’s time to break it up.”

Raleigh pulls back and give Cassandra one more quick peck on the lips. She giggles and attempts to wipe her lipstick off of him. “Can’t have you going out there in my smudged lipstick.”

“Why? You don’t think I can rock the bright red?

Cassandra rolls her eyes at him. “I think I wear it better.”

“It’s a good thing I brought this with me,” Fiona says, digging through her clutch. She pulls out the tube of lipstick Cassandra is wearing for the night. “Re-apply and head back to your seats.”

Cassandra takes the tube. “You’re not coming with?”

“I have a few phone calls to make. I’ll meet you out there. No go and win some more!”

And just like that, the mushy Fiona that hugged her a few minutes ago was gone and the old Fiona was back.

Raleigh grabs Cassandra’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “You heard her. You have more awards to win.”

Having won one, the anxiousness weighing Cassandra down earlier was no longer there. A newfound confidence sweeps through her body. If she won one, surely she could win one more, right?

She ends up sweeping the award show, winning all four Grammy’s that she’s nominated for. After the third win, she can’t even bother fixing her makeup because she’s full on sobbing at the podium. Raleigh wins in the category he was nominated in as well and calls Cassandra the “love of his life” in his acceptance speech. They spend the rest of the award show trying not to be that obnoxious couple who makes out with each other in public.

~~/~~

The top secret phone calls Fiona was making earlier in the evening turned out to be party planning arrangements. She took it upon herself to announce that Cassandra was hosting a major after party at 1 OAK, and anyone who’s anyone would be in attendance (along with a few carefully selected paparazzi and a reporter from PEOPLE, because Fiona is never one to miss an opportunity). Once the Grammy’s was over, she was shuttled back to the hotel to change and then straight back out to the party.

Now Cassandra is on stage, singing the song that won her a Grammy, and Raleigh can’t help but smile at his girlfriend. She’s so in her element, doing what she loves, singing her heart out. He can hardly believe this is the same woman he met over a year ago, nervous about her music and unsure of herself. She’s a natural.

As she finishes the song and thanks everyone in the crowd for coming out and supporting her, Raleigh takes the opportunity to look at her. Her hair is pulled back into a sleek low ponytail, which he appreciates because it shows off just how beautiful her face is, and he likes when her hair is out of her face because he likes to pull it. She’s wearing a skintight mini dress, and the only thing that’s running through his mind is he can’t wait until they’re alone so he can rip it off of her.

“Fiona knows how to throw a party,” Micah says, as he and Avery make it to where Rakeigh is sitting. They take a seat across from Raleigh. “And to think this was all planned in less than three hours.”

“Fiona is a woman who knows how to get things done,” Avery says.

Raleigh shrugs. “It would’ve been nice to give us a heads up.” He had plans to have a private evening with her, skipping all of the parties and taking her to their favorite restaurant in Beverly Hills.

Avery shrugs, taking a sip of her drink. “You know Fiona does what Fiona wants to do. And everyone around has to fall in line.”

Raleigh’s eyes scan the club and he spots Cassandra by the DJ booth. She’s talking excitedly to someone, he can’t tell who.

“You’re just the beaming boyfriend tonight, Raleigh,” Avery teases, following his gaze. His eyes follow Cassandra’s every move, and Avery thinks it’s cute.

“My amazing girlfriend killed it tonight. I’d be crazy to not be proud of her.”

Someone comes rushing over to their table, squealing excitedly. Raleigh vaguely recognizes her, some C-list reality television star. “Oh my gosh, Avery! Long time no see, girlfriend. We have so much to catch up on!”

Avery flashes Micah and Raleigh a nervous glance and it’s clear that she has no idea who this woman is. “Hey...you! How are you?”

As fun as it’d be to watch Avery fumble her way through that conversation, Raleigh slips out of his seat in search for his girlfriend.

Cassandra is in a conversation with J. Lo when Raleigh comes up to them, wrapping an arm protectively around her shoulders. “What are you two ladies talking about?”

Cassandra looks up at Raleigh with a smile. “I was just over here fan-girling.”

“And I was telling Cassandra here that I’m a fan as well,” Jennifer replies. “I don’t know how long you two are going to be out here, but Alex and I would love to have you guys over for dinner one of these days.”

Cassandra has to make a very strong, conscious effort to not pass out. Did she just get invited to Jennifer Freaking Lopez’s house? To have dinner with her and A. Rod? Was this a dream?

“S-sure!” Cassandra stammers. “We’d love to come over.”

“Great! Not to brag, but I can cook. Raleigh when was the last time you had really good Puerto Rican food?”

“When I went home for the holidays last year,” Raleigh answers.

“Then it’s settled, you’re coming over and I’m making you guys a feast.”

Raleigh smiles. “Don’t tempt me, I may never want to leave.”

“Cassandra, I’ll call you tomorrow and we can get everything figured out.”

“Of course.”

Jennifer wraps Cassandra in a hug and waves. “Congratulations again! And have fun tonight. Enjoy this moment.”

“Thank you! See you soon!”

Cassandra watches as Jennifer weaves through the crowded club. She can’t believe it. She just had an actual conversation with one of the biggest stars in music! And they’re on a casual first name basis!

“Did that just happen?” She asks.

“Yup. Get used to it, baby. You’re a superstar now, everyone is going to want to know you.”

“It feels surreal. I can’t believe this is my life now.”

Raleigh grabs Cassandra in by the waist, slowly swaying to the soft music. It was the first moment all night where he feels like it’s just the two of them, even though they’re in a packed nightclub. He wants to savor the moment. “Have I told you how ridiculously sexy you look tonight?”

“Only about ten times,” Cassandra says with a giggle.

“Then I haven’t said it nearly enough.”

“Careful mister, flattery like that will get you everywhere.”

Raleigh spins Cassandra around pulls her back into him, her back hitting his chest with a hard thud. His hand splays across her midsection, keeping her firmly in place.

“That’s the entire goal.” All of the moisture leaves Cassandra’s mouth at that moment. “I’ve wanted to rip these clothes off of you all night.”

“Zadie will kill you.”

“Then I’ll die a happy man.”

Cassandra gasps as she feels Raleigh tug on her ponytail, angling her head to give him better access to the smooth expanse of her neck. Thankfully the noise is drowned out the loud music.

“Besides,” he continues, nipping a particularly sensitive spot on Cassandra’s neck, “I don’t give a fuck about this dress. I’m rich. I can replace it one thousand times over.”

“N-no marks,” she warns. Fiona would kill her if she had hickeys, not that Raleigh ever cared. Raleigh doesn’t heed the warning and instead latches on to the sensitive flesh, sucking hard.

The sound that escapes from her is downright pornographic, but she couldn’t stop it. Raleigh Carrera would be the death of her. She turns around and kisses him hard, pulling desperately at his shirt. Raleigh’s hand travels south, grabbing a handful of her ass, and they’re so close together, it’s hard to tell where she ends and he begins.

The rest of the club fades away. There’s no more music. No more flashing lights. No more celebrities trying to latch onto her for the evening. Cassandra has tunnel vision and her sole focus is the gorgeous man she’s currently kissing.

Raleigh is the one who breaks the kiss, only because his need to breathe is too strong to ignore. “I’m tired of being here,” he announces, loosening his grip on Cassandra. “I’m tired of sharing you.”

Cassandra nods weakly, and tries to compose herself. Her legs feel like jelly now that she doesn’t have Raleigh keeping her upright. “Then let’s go.”

“You’re the host of this shindig, Cass,” Raleigh says with a small smile. “Can you leave?”

“I don’t care. We’re leaving.” Cassandra grabs Raleigh’s hand and drags him along in her quest to find Hank. They find the older man standing near the exit, happily munching on a crab cake. “Hank, it’s time to go.”

It’s only a 10 minute drive from 1 OAK to the Waldorf Astoria, but it feels like an eternity. As soon as they’re in the limo, Cassandra rolls up the partition and launches herself at Raleigh. The two of them make out, desperate, intense, like two horny teenagers on prom night.

They’re so wrapped up in each other, they hardly feel the limo come to a stop a few short minutes later. Hank politely knocks on the partition, notifying them that they’re at the hotel. Cassandra manages to let out a feeble, “Thank you,” before Raleigh all but drags her out out their ride and into the hotel.

They are barely inside the suite when Raleigh slams Cassandra against the wall, causing her to groan. He’s everywhere. His lips on hers (she can still taste the tequila and orange juice on his lips), his hands roaming and grabbing at anything he can touch. Cassandra is on sensory overload.

Raleigh presses a knee between Cassandra’s legs, forcing them apart. His hand trails up her thigh and under her dress, finding the flimsy material of her thong. “You’re soaked, Cass.”

Cassandra whimpers quietly as Raleigh’s fingers press against her. “All for you.”

“Good.” Not even bothering to remove them, he slips her underwear to the side and plunges two fingers inside of her.

Cassandra yelps, a sound she was not expecting to make escapes before she has a chance to bite her lip. Her mouth hangs open and her head falls back against the door. Raleigh takes advantage of having the upper hand and leaves a trail of kisses along her jaw, neck.

Cassandra grabs Raleigh by the chin and pulls him into a bruising kiss. Her tongue sweeps across his bottom lip and he quickly opens his mouth to give her access.

Taking her hand off of his face, they make their way down to his pants, gently cupping him through the layers of clothing. Raleigh shudders in surprise at the contact and Cassandra smirks through the kiss. Jackpot. The playing field is finally level. She makes quick work of his belt button and zipper, and shoves his pants down to his ankles, taking his boxers with him.

Cassandra takes him in her hand, feeling him harden at her touch. She gives him a few featherlight strokes, and Raleigh retaliates by pressing his thumb into her clit, circling it a few times. “Fuck!” She swears stars explode behind her eyes as her orgasm crashes into her like a wave. She wasn’t expecting to come so quickly, but she chalks it up to being incredibly riled up from the club and their ride back to the hotel.

It takes her a few seconds to come back down to earth, but when she does, she resumes stroking Raleigh’s erect member, adding more pressure this time around. “Your turn, Carerra.”

Raleigh moans at the contact, and drops his forehead into the crook of her neck. How did his guitar playing girlfriend have such soft hands?

Cassandra feels motivated by his quiet, breathy moans, and slightly increases the pace. Raleigh stops her, grabbing her wrist.

“What are you doing?” She asks.

“No more foreplay,” Raleigh says, his voice coming out a lot more gruff than usual. He grips the hem of her dress and roughly lifts it up, bunching the fabric at her waist. Cassandra swears she hears the fabric tear. Raleigh wasn’t kidding when it said he didn’t give a fuck about the dress. And in this moment, neither does she.

A shudder passes through her body as Raleigh positions himself at her entrance. She angles her hips forward and wraps one of her legs around his waist in an attempt to get him to hurry up. Raleigh grabs her hips and pushes her back against the wall, his fingers digging into the skin. She receives the message loud and clear: he’s in charge.

“Raleigh…”

“Patience is a virtue, mi amor,” he teases.

“Please.” Cassandra can hear the desperation in her voice, but she doesn’t care. “I don’t want to be—” she hisses sharply as he enters her in one smooth thrust, with no warning.

The thrusts are fast, unsteady and rhythmless, and Cassandra attempts to move in tandem with him, but she’s pinned in place. He presses a line of kisses down her neck and she bites her lip so hard in order to stifle her moan, she draws blood.

“Stop,” Raleigh orders. “I want to hear you.”

“Raleigh…” he pulls out and slams back into her. Cassandra throws her head back, hitting it against the wall. Yes, she’s going to have a headache in the morning, and yes, it’ll be worth it. “Oh fuck!”

“There we go,” Raleigh murmurs against her. He keeps up the pace, coaxing whimpers and moans from her.

Cassandra feels herself teetering closer and closer to the edge, completely at Raleigh’s mercy. She’s so close, she can almost taste it. “Please...”

“Please what? Use your big girl words, Andy.”

She wants to kill him. This smug asshole.

He thrusts into her at a particular angle, and Cassandra’s almost positive she’s lost all brain function at this point. Her mind goes blank, the thought of forming a coherent sentence is gone. Instead, she opts to wrap an arm around the back of Raleigh’s neck, pulling her closer. Her other hand flies to his hair, her nails dragging across his scalp. His teeth sink down into her neck in response, and she’s positive he’s drawn blood at this point. The pain quickly fades and melds with the pleasure coursing through her veins.

“Are you close?” Raleigh asks, his voice cutting through the fog currently shrouding her brain. All Cassandra can do is feebly nod in reply. Raleigh captures the shell of her ear between his teeth and gently bites down. “Then cum for me, Cassandra.”

And that’s all it takes for the dam to break. Cassandra’s back arches off of the wall and her grip on Raleigh tightens as her climax rolls through her. In her mind, she swears she’s crying out but in reality, the only sound she’s capable of making is a hoarse moan, her voice completely gone.

A few thrusts later and Raleigh’s right behind her, groaning in her ear as his own orgasm takes over. They fall into a heap on the floor, their heavy pants the only noise that could be heard throughout the suite.

“So…” Raleigh starts, “that was fun. We should win awards more often.”

~~/~~

A few hours (and a few more rounds) and a shower later, Cassandra and Raleigh are curled up in bed, absentmindedly flipping through TV channels. It’s really late, but thankfully the hotel has 24/7 room service so Raleigh was able to order food while Cassandra was in the shower, despite it being well after midnight.

Raleigh traces the dark mark he left on Cassandra’s shoulder. His teeth marks have faded, but there’s definitely going to be a bruise. “Sorry about your shoulder, baby.”

“I’m pretty sure I stabbed you in the neck with my nails, so I think we’re even.”

“God, we probably look like we’ve been in a fight.”

Cassandra giggles. “Well if that’s the case, we’re both winners.”

“Fine by me.”

Cassandra rolls over and blindly searches for her cell phone on the bedside table. She hasn’t checked it in hours.

She powers it back on, and it met with a flood of notifications.

“Whoa, mama. I should definitely check my phone more often. I have hundreds of texts.”

Raleigh peers over Cassandra’s shoulder. “Any interesting ones?”

“A few from my parents, telling me how proud they are, Shane congratulating me, Micah and Avery added us to a group chat and they’re wondering why we ditched them, and Fiona scolding us for leaving the party early. And then she texted me about a few talk show appearances while we’re in LA.”

“You going to respond to any of them?”

“Nah.” Cassandra puts her phone face down on the table. “I’m spending the rest of my night for you.”

“Mmmm, music to my ears.”

There’s a knock on their front door. “Room service!”

“There’s our food.” Raleigh gets out of the bed and rifles through the pants he was wearing earlier, and Cassandra just assumes he’s searching for his wallet in order to give the bellhop a tip. After a few seconds, he hops up and runs to get the door, leaving Cassandra alone in the bedroom.

He returns a few minutes pushing the cart that’s holding all of their food. “I didn’t know you ordered a bottle of champagne,” Cassandra says, noticing the bottle of Dom Perignon nestled into a bucket of ice.

“Of course. It’s my girl’s first Grammy night, I had to go all out for you.”

“Ooh, I feel so fancy.”

“Let’s eat on the terrace,” Raleigh suggests.

“Good idea.” It was surprisingly nice outside for a February night and they had an interrupted view of Beverly Hills from their suite. Cassandra grabs her fluffy bathrobe and slips it on, as well as her slippers.

They settle in outside, Raleigh rolling the cart between them. He pops the bottle of champagne and pours two glasses.

“I’m starving,” Cassandra moans. She points to the many trays, which are all currently covered. She didn’t realize they ordered so much food. “Which one is mine?”

Raleigh lifts the cover off of the tray facing him, slowly, angling it so Cassandra can’t see. “Here, this one is yours.” He carefully maneuvers it to Cassandra’s side of the cart, careful to not knock into the others.

“I never even asked, but what did you order me? Is it pasta?” She lifts the cover off of the tray, expecting to dig into a nice plate of fettuccine, but she’s instead greeted by an empty tray, save for one thing. A ring. A ridiculously beautiful, princess cut diamond ring.

Her eyes go wide, and she looks at Raleigh, who’s just staring at her. “What is this?”

“What does it look like?”

“It looks like a ring.”

“You’d be correct.”

Cassandra truly cannot help it. For what feels like the hundredth time that night, tears sting the corners of her eyes. “Raleigh…”

“I went through a million different scenarios on how I wanted to do this. I almost asked on your 25th birthday, but I changed my mind. Then I decided against it. And I wanted to ask you almost every day since then, but nothing ever felt perfect, so I've just been walking around with this ring every day, hoping for that moment. Until today. I knew today would be perfect, because I just knew you’d be a winner tonight. My original plan was to take you to Mastro’s after the Grammy’s but Fiona threw a wrench in that plan when she sprung the after party on you. I actually got the entire restaurant closed for us tonight, and I was going to do it there. And I almost just blurted it out when I was on stage during my acceptance speech, but I’m glad I didn’t because I wanted the moment to just be ours, and no one else’s. And certainly not the media’s. So, I kind of threw this together while you were in the shower earlier.”

“Ugh, I’m rambling, I’m sorry.” Raleigh has never been this nervous before. Is what he’s saying even coherent? Is Cassandra actually following along?

She’s wipes a tear from her cheek and chuckles. “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

Raleigh takes the ring and drops down on one knee. “I love you. I meant what I said earlier when I called you the love of my life. I love your warmth, and your smile. I love how smart you are. I love how positive you are. I love that you tell really bad jokes. I love that when we visit Puerto Rico, you blend in so seamlessly with my family, like you’ve been with us forever. I love that you watch telenovelas with my mom, and you play with my nieces and nephews. I love that you share the blankets with me even when I say I’m not cold. I love that you’re always down for an adventure with me, whether it be finding pretzels in Harlem late at night, or randomly going to Coney Island. I love that you love me. You inspire me and you make me want to be a better person, the man you deserve because you deserve the best that life has to offer. I want to give you all the stars in the sky, and everything underneath them. I never thought loving someone as much as I love you was even possible, but here we are. And now that I know what that type of love feels like, I don’t want to ever not have you. So, Cassandra Nicole Paige, will you marry me?”

Cassandra can hardly see anymore due to the tears, but she nods anyway. “Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Really?

“Yes!”

With a very unsteady hand Raleigh slips the ring onto her left ring finger. He pulls her into a kiss, their softest one of the night. There’s no urgency, no fervor. Just two people in love.

Raleigh breaks away and kisses the crown of her head.

A smile so wide breaks out into Cassandra’s face, she’s afraid her mouth might split. “This has been the best night of my life. I love you.”

“I love you too, future Missus Carrera.”

“Say that one more time.”

Raleigh kisses Cassandra again. “Missus Carrera.”

“Mmmm, that sounds perfect.”

Tag List: @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @choicesobsessedd @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @furiouscloddonutpeanut @livedinawomansworld @maxwellshippo @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @mfackenthal @thisperfectmemory @owleyes374 @itsbrindleybinch @ashilla @lovedrakewalker @roszy

#choices: stories you play #playchoices #choices: platinum #raleigh carrera #raleigh carrera x mc #ns*fw

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thehoodsweetheart · 5 years

Text

Sandcastles

A/N: I haven’t written in a very long time so please be gentle with me. I got in the mood to write and thought, why not? Loosely proofread it. I hope it’s not complete trash. :( Anyways, Auntie Bey releasing Lemonade for streaming gave your girl some inspo. Please comment and let me know your thoughts.

Word Count: 2,471

Warnings: Slight Angst (?), Violence, Hints of emotional abuse, Fuckboy Erik

Summary: You love Erik, but you can’t let him compromise your integrity.

Erik x Black Reader (will always be a Black reader. Sorry not Sorry).

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The iPhone’s screen illuminated white with its signature black apple dead center. You inhaled deeply letting out an exasperated breath awaiting the lock screen to appear. You used your thumb to spin the wedding ring around your finger. Your eyes shifted from the device to the house you were parked in front of. It was large modern styled house, almost as if it were overcompensating for something. The lawn was well manicure yet it showed no semblance of life. At 11:45 AM, not a single light peaking from any of the vast windows, or a single car in the winding driveway to give the impression that someone was ‘home’. Great... This was your home.

The chiming of the overbearing amount of notifications snapped out of your daze. You furrowed your eyebrows together immediately turning off the ringer to silence the noise. 587 text messages, 107 missed calls, 107 voicemails to accompany those missed calls, and let’s not count the emails, Instagram DM’s, and Facebook messages. They were pretty much all from Erik, except for a few texts from your best friend Samantha, Shuri, and T’Challa. Nonetheless, their texts were probably due to Erik pestering them.

Five days. That’s how long you were gone. Five days since your phone was last turned on. You thought Erik should have given up after the first 20 unanswered calls and text messages. You made it very clear that you done this time. Matter of fact, you promised you were done. You opened the stream of Erik’s texts trying to scroll as much as you could to get a glimpse where he was mentally. His texts went from being riddled with arrogance and indifference, in true Erik Stevens form, to desperate and apologetic, then came the slue of “I love you’s”. You slouched in your seat behind the steering wheel and continued to skim the texts rolling your eyes.

The most recent voicemail from Erik made your chest tight as a lump formed in your throat. His voice was laced with venom.

Y/n, you really on some bullshit! How many times do a nigga have to apologize love? I’ve been calling you like I’m FUCKIN’ CRAZY! (He chuckles darkly.)You really gone walk away from everything like that baby? You left me here with our daughter and you don’t even give a fuck. What if something happened to Iman and I was trying to let you know? What the fuck kind of mother are you!? (Iman cried in the background.)

How dare he use her against you? You blinked away tears thinking of your 8-month-old daughter. You loved Iman with your entire being. She was literally the light of your life and string of hope that love still remained in your marriage. You never wanted to leave her but you couldn’t stay. There was also no way in hell Erik would let you take her with you. The night you left he refused to let you take her. Now he was trying to guilt trip you.

Erik cheated.This wasn’t his first affair either. You honestly questioned if this was truly the second affair. You guys were nearing your third year of marriage and he’d already been caught having an affair prior to this. The first time was during your first year of marriage. You’d questioned why he even married you in the first place, but he swore he loved nobody like he loved you and couldn’t live without you. Like the naïve girl you were, you forgave him. This time you couldn’t. You promised if he cheated again, you would walk away and never look back.

Erik followed you into you guys shared home, loosening his tie and shrugging out of his tuxedo jacket. You all were just returning home from a benefit hosted by the Wakandan Outreach Center. His eyes fixed on your ample rear-end and wide set hips as they swayed with your vigorous walk. Your black body-con dress flattered every curve. He noted your postpartum weight had provided you with some desirable assets.

He was hot on your trail as you reached the kitchen opening the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water.

You needed a drink of water to hopefully ease the nauseous feeling that developed mid-dinner. As the benefit went on, you were left with your thoughts, which only made you feel worse. On the surface you played it cool, keeping a warm smile and socializing with the benefit goers but still keeping a watchful eye on your husband…and his intern. She felt no shame in openly flirting with him as he fed right into it with his dimpled smile and occasional wink.

Erik snaked an arm around your waist pressing his groin into your butt. You shrugged him off of you rounding the island that centered the kitchen. Erik scoffed in annoyance.

“What the fuck is wrong with you now?”

“YOU-you’re fucking your intern!” The words spilled out of your mouth like word-vomit as tears threatened the rims of your eyes.

Erik clenched and unclenched his jaw before squaring his shoulders his feet planted apart. His almost natural militant stance still screamed righteousness no matter if he had just been called out.

“What intern?” He arched his brow with a smug look.

Before you could think twice, you snatched off your So Kate pumps and threw them directly at his head missing by a few centimeters. He stood there with a look of bewilderment. You knew it would only be a matter of time before he’d try to come after you and that’d be your ass.

“Fuck you Erik! You know exactly who I’m talking about! HOW LONG HUH?! I saw the text messages and nasty ass pictures she sent you last night! Distasteful bitch! Was it her in the video that you lied and tried to say it was random porn?! You must think I’m fuckin stupid!” You screamed.

You grabbed the closest thing to you, which was an empty glass bowl and hurled it in his direction. Your vision was blurred with tears but your aim was still pretty accurate. Maybe playing softball in your youth did pay off. The bowl hit his built shoulder and went crashing on the floor.

“Stop throwing shit! YES I FUCKED HER OKAY?! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO KNOW? And it was her in the video. But I don’t give a fuck about her!” Erik barked as he stormed toward you.

You might’ve been pissed but you were still a smart bitch. You dodged his reach picking up another dish to throw at him before scurrying to the farther side of the kitchen. You didn’t care if he gave a fuck about his intern or not, he still fucked her. He still made the conscious decision to break your trust and ruin the small family you were building. Your chest heaved as angrily wiped the makeup stained tears from your cheeks.

“YOU OBVIOUSLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ME EITHER! You only care about yourself! You disgust me. I put my dreams and career on hold to cater to you. I never wanted to be a stay at home mom and you knew that! Yet I still did it for us, so that our daughter could at least be around one of her parents consistently. You’re hardly ever home these days! You treat me like shit! You lie to me! You never have time for me. You cheat on me with God only knows how many other women! I’M DONE!”

You wipe your stray tears stuffing the phone into your hoodie’s pocket. Your shaky hands fiddled with the keys before pulling them out of the ignition. You quickly get out of your Range Rover Velar and stroll towards the house. You unlock the house to be met with silence and the familiar scent of home. The scent was a mixture of fresh linen and lavender vanilla from your favorite candles.

You eyes scanned the first floor of the open floor plan home. There was still no sign of Erik. You blew out a sign of relief as you ventured further into the house. You walked into the living room seeing some of Iman’s toys and a blanket thrown about. Out of habit you collect them, putting them in their respectful places before folding her baby blanket and laying it in the play-pin she had in the living room. A couple pairs of his shoes littered the floor and one of Iman’s bottles. Like her mom, Iman liked to throw things and with good aim.

“You would think he’d be neater being in the Navy and all.” You scoffed rolling your eyes.

He actually was neat. Often times, neater than you so seeing things out of place were odd. You knew Erik was probably ready to pull his dreads out having to deal with Iman alone for five days. Iman was definitely a busybody, despite not walking yet she could manage to crawl and climb whatever whenever she got the chance. He could finally see how you felt… aside from being cheated on.

A sizable gold photo frame laid faced down on the end table near where most of Iman’s mess was. You picked up the photo taking in the details of its broken glass before focusing in on the actual picture. It was a picture of your wedding day. Another item you attempted to throw at Erik in your heated rage. You and Erik looked like a genuinely happy couple there, nothing forced like the past few months were. You placed your hand over your mouth to hush your sobs. How could you have gotten to this point?

You were never a violent person. You weren’t even easily angered. You were always cool and collected trying to see a positive in any situation. Conflict just wasn’t your thing but mostly due to you being so sensitive. Erik had always joked that you were the calm to his storm. That you were, the calm always willing to offer comfort and rationality so when it came to the point where your love was being taken advantage of you exploded. It was your turn to bring the storm.

Erik stood in the distance taking in the sight of you. Your curly hair thrown in a messy topknot as a few tight curls escaped, hanging freely around your face. Your honey brown golden skin looked like it lost a bit of color, as if you were indoors for the entire five days or maybe sick. Your almond shaped eyes were puffy, nose a bit red, and already full lips looked a little swollen. No matter how disheveled another person may have thought you looked, he saw your beauty. The same beauty that captured him from the first moment he set eyes on you. Erik’s face contorted into a frown as he hastily wiped his own tears.

You must’ve felt him staring because you looked up only to lock eyes with him. Your breathing hitched as he walked closer to you but you didn’t move, you couldn’t move. Here was the alleged love of your life and very sight of him made you want to punch him in the face, vomit, cry, hate him, love him and be held all at the same time. It physically pained your stomach.

Erik reached out and touched your hand causing you to pull back as if being shocked by electricity.

“I just came to get my things. I’ll be leaving shortly.” You said just above a whisper your eyes shifting to the floor.

“Please-please don’t leave.” Erik croaked only to be met with silence. You stared at him with a blank expression.

“Where’s Iman?” You muttered.

“She’s in her nursery taking a nap.” He sounded defeated as he tossed the baby monitor on the couch. You nodded attempting to walk around him only to be stopped.

“Wait! I-I know I fucked up. I just want to apologize baby. I was wrong for being a fucked up husband and cheating. I was being selfish. I felt like I was losing myself by giving my all to you and I’m sorry. I allowed my ego get the best of me. You didn’t deserve none of the shit I put you through--”

“You’re right you are selfish. You ain’t shit for what you did to me.” You cut him off.

He dropped his head looking at his feet. Erik nodded before looking into your eyes and grabbing your hands. His large calloused hands engulfing your small delicate ones.

“Just hear me out Y/N. I love you with all of my being. You and Iman are the best things that have ever happened to me and I don’t even deserve y’all. I can’t take losing another person I love. I need you baby. If I gotta beg you for your forgiveness everyday I will. I already fired her. Shit, I’ll even go to marriage counseling. Whatever it takes. We can re-build; take it as slow as you need…Fuck! I don’t—I can’t let you walk away. Just don’t leave me baby.” Erik gripped your hips his fingertips digging into your flesh.

Your gaze studied the intricate scars adorning his forearms. Without thought, your fingers traced the pattern. He leaned down pressing his forehead against yours. You dared not to look in his eyes. A teardrop hitting your nose caught you off guard. You took in a sharp breath chewing on your bottom lip. In the many years of knowing your husband, you can count on one hand how many times you’d seen him cry. You draped your arm around his neck stroking the back of his head.

“It’s going to take more than an apology to get your family back. I refuse to raise childrenin a toxic environment.” You said just above a whisper.

Iman’s wails echoed through the baby monitor. You immediately broke away from Erik rushing up the stairs to her nursery. You missed your baby and not having her was the worse part of those five days. You scooped Iman up in your arms rocking her as you kissed all over her round golden face. Her cries subsided as she offered you a two-toothed grin flexing the dimples in her chubby cheeks, Erik’s dimples.

“Mommy’s here. I’m so sorry my sweet girl.” You clung to her as tears fell down your cheeks.

“Y/N…” Erik called out as he stood in the doorway with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

You turned around to face him with a raised eyebrow.

“I found the pregnancy tests in our bathroom.” Erik stated plainly.

You never got around to telling him but you’d known you were pregnant for at least two weeks.

“I never hid them…”

#erik killmonger x reader #erik killmonger imagine #erik killmonger x oc #erik x reader #black panther rec #black panther #black panther imagine #killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger #killmonger one shot #erik killmonger x black!reader

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jetblackpayne · 5 years

Text

Dazed & confused

✧･: *✧･ﾟ: * 　*:･✧*:･ﾟ✧

summary: In which Arden Keaton (OC, half!witch, time traveller!from present) travels to 1984 to fix the timeline for the sake of her future. She’s left Dazed and Confused. BASED OFF RUELS SONG

warning(s): part of another series (aka i’m too lazy to write and wanna write this first), language, sexual situations.

a/n: this was rushed lol. lmk if i should change it to make it less choppy/spelling corrections. AND OR IF IT MAKES NO SENSE ILL CHAT YOU IN THE COMMENTS AND MAKE IT CLEAR!⚡️⚡️😁

key: italics = flashback

bold = arden’s thoughts

bold italics = others thoughts

✧･: *✧･ﾟ:*:･✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･: *✧･ﾟ:* :･✧*:･✧･ﾟ:*✧

PART i.

Arden Keaton woke up with a sudden urge to vomit. Her head was spinning as her eyes began to well up with tears. What just happened? Why do I feel different? She woke up in Murder House as she normally would but something to her seemed off. What was once her bedroom coated in lilac walls and light carpeting against cherry wood floors was now white cracked paint and nails sticking out of the floorboards. More hazard, dangerous, and unkept then she remembered. What happened to this place? For some unknown reason, her mind kept trailing. She couldn’t call out for help or question to her family or to the ghosts why her room looked the way it did. She felt as though she didn’t belong. She couldn’t feel half of the souls trapped in this house as she did before. Her friends Tate not Violet we’re present. A pounding sound suddenly filled her ears from the thin walls echoing through the narrow halls. Her head snapped up in surprise as she walked out of her room. She walked along side the doors, attempting to feel some type of energy from the rooms. Her tracks stopped beneath of a room she had yet to explore, the attic. Her gaze travelled up the suspended ladder as her hands and feet hooked onto the ledge one at a time. When atop, her heart stopped when she found Nikki and Sam Argento, the two loudest ghosts in Murder House screwing each other like some sort of kinky ritual. The woman’s wrists tied to the bedpost in the attic as a knife trailed down her collarbone to cut the strap of her bra off.

Arden gasped. Her hands feeling weak at the sight. Arden felt her body draw from the only thing keeping her stable as she landed on the ground with a thud echoing throughout the house. The sound of meaning and pounding against the wall was silenced. The two stopped in thier moment with wide eyes, “Who’s there?” She heard Nikki yell from the top. Arden scrambled up and ran to the staircase trying to keep her footsteps quiet as possiable. Where is my family? She took out her phone to see her worst nightmare, ‘No Service.’ What is going on?

Arden deceased down the main staircase as quietly as she could. She didn’t know what was going on. She walked into what her family called the ‘family room’ and walked over to the television. Her head lowered as she started intensely at the picture box; goring almost with a palm stuck out. The TV began to flicker as the static became clear. Arden cocked an eyebrow in confusion, the signal usually was great; static was unusual for her to see. The televisions signal slightly cleared up with a grainy effect. *“James Keaton, a young man, age of 19, the youngest ever to graduate from MIT was at his weekly press conference last night. He had some shocking yet releaving information to share with the world.”* The women on the news channel spoke. Arden’s heart pace quickened hearing her fathers name being mentioned. This had to be some sort of prank. The bottom right corner of the screen made her heart drop; there was no way. June 13, 1984. She didn’t know what to think let alone say in this moment. Either I’ve seen the light, or i’m loosing my mind.. The channel finally cut to a new scene. It was her father when he was younger. Arden could distinctly remember the photos framed on the wall above the fireplace in thier old home and the ones mounted on the counters. She could have sworn she’d seen a picture of him in that exact moment. *He looked as if hewere glowing yet looked around at the press with a nervous glance. “I am the Iron man.” He spoke as the crowd went crazy. He then proceeded to sit down in his seat behind the podium. The scene cut to the woman again as she smiled, “Los Angeles has their very own superhero; and it’s James Keaton, genius, soon to be billionaire, also known as Iron Man. Clever name for a clever guy!* The television suddenly went black. Arden’s eyes glued on the void lingering in the still-air.

“What the hell are you doing in our house?!” Nikkis voice shouted from the top of the stairs. Arden’s heart dropped into her stomach as her mouth ran dry. The woman had on a silky bubblegum pink robe untied revealing her lingerie set to the teenager. Behind her was Sam. His arms crossed over his chest as he stood in confusion.

“I’m sorry.” Arden spoke, “I’m not supposed to be here for another 35 years.” Arden stepped over to the staircase placing a nervous hand on the railing. Even the words that came out of her mouth cane as a shock. How was she so calm? “You see it might sound crazy but I fell asleep in 2019 and woke up here in 84. I don’t know what to do.” Arden didn’t feel guilty telling them. They were ghosts in her present house and she was sure they would remember her. “I didn’t mean any harm but I don’t know what to do. My parents are my age.” The couple exchanged glances. Arden read into their minds only to be thinking the same thing, What the hell? “I know what you’re thinking literally it might sound crazy—”

“The amount of shit we’ve seen going on in this house, nothing seems crazy anymore.” Nikki cut her off offering her a small smile. She returned the gesture with a slight pink tint to her cheeks. The couple were still in thier underwear behind the masks. “You don’t look too harmful to me.” she smirked walking down the stairs, “What’s your name?”

“Arden Keaton.”

“As in James Keaton?” Nikki stood stunned.

“In like 18 years time.”

“Bitchin” Sam spoke now beside his partner kissing her temple, “That’s your old man.”

Arden cringed at the term. She gave them a fake smile and snickered playing along, “Yep.”

“Well Arden,” Sam spoke looking down at her small frame, “If you’re gonna be here anyways, you can stay with us obviously.” Arden’s body shifted in slight discomfort. She knew what this couple was known for and being in the midst of that would be disturbing to say the least. “Don’t worry, we won’t keep you up all night with our noises.” He smirked at his significant other as she nibbled on the exposed skin on his neck. He sucked in a hitched breath as his eyes rolled back with pleasure.

Arden’s nose scrunched up, “I guess.”

“It’s settled then!” Nikki smiled again her.

Something to Arden didn’t make sense. Sure considering it is her house in 35 years, she should stay but in thier present time, it’s not. Why would they let her stay like it’s normal? “I’m sorry,” Arden spoke catching them in mid makeout session, “Why are you being so nice to me? I mean I woke up here, told you I was from the future, yet you treat me like i’m not crazy?”

“Like we mentioned, we live in the Murder House, nothing seems too crazy for us anymore.” Nikki wrapped a lazy arm around Sam. They smiled at the girl.

“Well.. t-thank you.” She stuttered a bit shaken up from what she found out.

“You seem tense.” Nikki pondered looking at Arden’s figure. Her shoulders were broadened, eyes diverted to the ground, and hands folded in front of her. “You need to let loose and I know just the thing.” Nikki ran over to the small closet near the front door. Rummaging through the racks she picked out two very bright workout outfits. She slung the two pieces over her shoulders and popped one hip out. To Arden, the outfits looked like a cry for attention; a good or bad cry was still being debated. “Were going to the aerobics studio!”

Arden tossed the woman a small smile. Maybe this would be good for me..

ii.

Sam stayed behind while Arden and Nikki were off to the studio. When they arrived, they went thier separate ways planning to meeting up later. Arden was currently stood in front of a full length mirror. On her body was one of the outfits Nikki gave her. The top was a hot pink bandeau under blue striped spandex suspenders. A buckle above her hips strapping over her belly button. "What the hell am I wearing?" Arden asked herself looking at herself. Her back arched as she looked at the leotard basically up her butt. She twirled amd reached her hands over her head in a semi-seductive way, admiring her look slightly, but she’d never admit it.

"A sexy aeroba-fit that will make all the guys pop a boner." A voice remarked behind her. Her gaze followed it to find a girl in her 20s if not Arden’s age, smirking in her direction. Her hair looked like she dyed and fried it too much. Her was face caked in makeup. She had on a leopard print leotard on; underneath were black leggings paired with platform boots. Interesting. “Don't worry, i'm not a les," The blonde spoke as she smacked her gum against her teeth smirking, "Just friendly." She beamed, "I'm Montana Duke by the way."

"Arden."

“You got a last name, Arden?” Montana challenged narrowing her brown eyes to the girl who stood a good few inches taller than her. Arden would have found her intimidating if she were weaker than her. She knew that wanst the case. She admired Montana Duke for her assertiveness and confidence. There was no way Arden introduce herself to anyone here without feeling awkward of it.

“Ke-” She thought for a moment noting a look of curiosity from the stranger across her. She couldn’t tell the girl her name. After all her father was famous for his now exposed identity for being a superhero and whatnot. The only reason why she told the overstimulated couple was because they once lives in her house; she would know them once she got back to present time as who was once living. Thier souls embodied in the wall of Murder House. She had no idea who this chick was. She couldn’t possibly trust her even if she held a knife to her throat. “Kline.” She firmly spoke.

“As in Calvin?”

“Far descent but yes.”

“Can’t possibly be that far if you have the same last name babe.” Montana smiled as she grabbed hold of the girls hand. Arden tensed up and Montana felt it, “Now let’s go Miss. Kline. Don’t wanna be late for your class.”

“I don’t have a class set up!”

“You do now. I’m sure X would let you join if you’re with me. I can tell we’re gonna be very good friends.” And they were off to class. Arden was a little anxious but she didn’t know why. She wouldn’t remember these people in the long run so why should she care what they think of? The two girls stepped into the bright room. Montana let go of Arden’s hand and practically ran to A hunky blonde Ken-doll. His features, to her, mirrored an angel. His perfectly gelled blonde hair was held up with a lilac headband. His clothes were light as well. White tank top and lilac shorts. The matierial hugged his body well. Arden couldn’t help but bite her lip unintentionally. Montana conversated with him as his gaze suddenly turned to Arden’s, winking in her direction. His tongue ran over this pearly white teeth. He gave her a sly wave. Arden felt her stomach drop as he left cheeks flourished. Her hand went up slightly to give him a shy wave. He laughed a bit looking at her again, he admired her shyness. If only he knew she wasn’t THAT shy.

Pretty soon class started and a few more people to Montana’s taste strolled in earning a wave. Arden stayed close to the back with a brunette girl who introduced herself as Brooke Thompson. They made quick conversation being thier first time in the studio, except Brooke wanted to come. Arden came with Nikki’s suggestion; she had no idea where the woman was. That was far beyond her concern. The sound of Frank Stallones, ‘Far from home’ began to fill the small room. X walked up to the front and began to stretch. His arm crossed his collarbone hugging it with the other. Once again, winking in the girls direction. She smiled at him and looked to the ground. This was gonna be a long day.

iii.

Arden began to hum/quietly sing the tune to Hanson's, 'Mmmbop' as she exited the women's locker room. The Montana and Brooke, whom she met prior, trailing behind her. Arden walked up to the counter and ordered a mango smoothie when she saw three guys converting. She recognised them from the slimmercise class she took. One being the the instructor and the one Montana mentioned, X. The one who couldnt keep his eyes off of her. X stopped what he was saying to look at her. He stared at her body licking his lips as his friends began to check her out. Arden sighed as she saw the hungry eyes melt into the back of her head. She began to read the filthy thoughts they had of her and shuttered. "You know it's not polite to stare." Arden turned around flipping her hair over the shoulders in the process. Batting her eyes, she took a sip of her smoothie. Where did this confidence come from? The boys stood there speechless at the sudden accusation; which happened to be true.

"I'm sorry sweetheart." X spoke as he stepped in ground of her. His perfectly structured jawline sharpened as he smiled at the girl. She couldn't help but blush at his gesture. He stuck his hand out to her, "I'm Xavier." He spoke as she looked at his hand. She finally knew what the letter stood for. "This is Chet and Ray." He motioned to the two other muscular guys behind him. Arden looked down at his empty hand and reached out for it. She brushed her hand against his smooth one to give him a gentle touch. Without warning, her mind clouded as her vision became blurry. She saw Xavier in a park with a needle in his arm. His pants soaked with his own urine. His eyes puffy from crying. Why did he let himself get like this? Just then a man came up to him and talked to him about the film industries he's worked in, "I could make you a star. With a pretty face like that, you could reach big places. And i'm gonna help you get there." He placed a hand on his inner thigh; groping is ever so slightly. "Trust Daddy." The man smirked at the broken man in front of him. Xavier nodded as he helped him up. Arden gasped as she stumbled into his arms. His smirk faltered to a scared expression. He snaked his arms under hers in a deadlift as her weight shifted onto him. He lifted her body over to the couch and looked around to see if anyone had seen the incident unfold. Nothing. The people in the lobby passed by doing anything but looking in thier direction. Chet, Ray, Brooke, and Montana rushed over to the couch as a drop of blood seeped it’s way down her drained face. None of them knew what to think.

“Good going man,” Ray said placing a hand on her shoulder wiping the dropping blood down her nose with a napkin from the counter, “You broke her!”

“Piss off!” Xavier exclaimed to his friends accusations, “I didn’t do anything. She grabbed my hand and went down. Then again most girls do.” Xavier and Chet shared a smirk.

Brooke rolled her eyes at thier childish behaviour. A girl just passed out in front of them and thier connecting it to thier hookups?

“That doesn’t explain why her nose is bleeding.” Montana spoke catching thier attention. They shook her off focusing on the limp girls body on the couch. What were they to do?

“Did you squeeze the poor girl too hard?” Chet asked.

“No fuck-face.” Xavier looked down at the girl. Her eyelids twitched slightly as her mouth parted. She sucked in a shaky breath as she opened her eyes slowly. The light from the ceiling blinding her. She hissed as she sat up and held her throbbing head. Xavier quickly sat next to her, taking her small hand into his large one, "Are you alright? Can I do anything?”

Her cheeks tinted as his simple gesture made her heart flutter. “Sorry about that.” She replies sheepishly

“Never has anyone in my class faint before.” He smirked at the thought. He leaned his body on the pillow her head was once on; elbow propped up holding his head in place looking up at her, “Guess you could say you ‘fell for me.’”

“Ugh,” Montana groaned and rolled her head back in annoyance, “Give me a break.”

Arden laughed at her remark. Xavier looked at her a winked at her making her flourished cheeks heat up more.

° :. *₊ ° . ☆ ✮ ° :. *₊ ° . ☆✮ °:.*₊ ° . ° . •°:.*₊ ° . ° . •

taglist: *based on reblogs/votes on this mini series*

@arkhamren @lourdlangdon

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ijustwanttofeedyoucake · 5 years

Text

Further Random Feeding Fantasy Filth #3

Kitty subconsciously rubbed at her stomach, unsure whether she was nervous or hungry or both. Despite being wrapped in a long, loose-fitting faux fur coat, she was uncomfortably aware of how tight the dress under it had become lately. The people she passed in the street couldn’t see her dress or how pudgy she looked in it, but she still felt embarrassed and exposed, and if she was honest with herself... a little excited. Even though she knew people couldn’t really get a good look at her generous curves, she liked to imagine that they could, and that they sometimes gave her disapproving looks. Just thinking about being judged for her indulgences made her blush and smile shyly while pulling at her coat. Stopping outside of the hotel where she had agreed to meet with her old friend, she peered through the glass exterior to see if they were visible in the lobby. No sign of her. Not surprising. In her nervous state she had gotten ready with greater haste than necessary and was likely very early, but that was okay. Kitty headed inside and found her way to the bar. Josie’s suggestion. A few guests lounged on stools at the bar itself, but there was a cosy dining area with quiet booths that looked comfortable and inviting and Kitty slid right into one. She pulled out her phone to kill some time while she waited, and noticed a text from Josie; “Sorry Kitty. Running late. Maybe 20 minutes behind schedule? Order a drink or some food. Sorry! Can’t wait to see you x”. “Damn it,” she muttered under her breath. 20 minutes plus how early she already was... Not a great start. She tried to get the attention of a trim young hotel employee wiping glasses behind the bar, but a phone rang loudly and he answered it and began enthusiastically assisting whoever was on the other end. A guest, probably. There didn’t seem to be anyone else at work in the hotel bar. “Damn it” she muttered again and pulled out her phone.

Josie sat on her bed in her underwear, surrounded by discarded items of clothing. She was a slim, pale woman with dark eyes and long straight hair to match. Kitty probably wouldn’t recognise her if it wasn’t for photographs on social media. Josie had lost a lot of weight since she and Kitty had been friends in school. In one recently manicured hand she held a flute of sparkling wine, which she admired along with her dark lacquered nails, while the other held a phone. “Has she arrived yet, Barney? Medium length blond hair, very pretty, probably wearing someth... oh, good. You’re sure it’s her? Perfect. Yes, that sounds like her, it must be. You remember my instructions? Good. Yes, just put it on my room bill. There’ll be a handsome tip waiting for you later. Oh, stop it you flirt. See you later.” She put down the phone’s large and somewhat archaic plastic receiver with a satisfying click. Hotels must be the last places on Earth where you still used landlines. She smiled, emptied the glass and placed it on the small bedside table where room service had left the bottle and ice bucket. Perfect. Now if only she could decide what to wear...

A shadow hovered over Kitty as she tapped at her phone, unconsciously flipping through photos of Josie on her profile, and she turned, obscuring her phone, to see the young man from the bar standing there smiling. “Hello madame, this drink is for you.” He lifted a cocktail of some sort from the tray balanced on his upturned hand and placed it in front of her. “From your friend. She asked me to apologise for her being late and to keep this full until she arrives.” Stunned, Kitty blurted out, “full?”

“Yes, madame. She told me to keep it full. I believe she meant the drink. Although, uh...” he paused and glanced towards an open doorway beside the bar that looked to be a kitchen area, “although she also ordered you a meal. I hope that is alright. She has already paid for it at any rate, so somebody will bring it over to you when you are ready.” He smiled at her and Kitty felt herself blushing slightly. The young man was quite attractive in his fancy uniform. “Oh, I’m not even hungry” she said, smiling shyly and looking down at the table. The hotel waiter smiled even more beautifully and shrugged, “as I said, it is already paid for, your friend is staying here at the hotel and she has put it on her account. If you don’t want to eat when it arrives then you can just leave it. It’s up to you. Is there anything else I can do for you while you wait?”

“No, no thank you, that’s okay,” Kitty replied and smiled shyly. The handsome waiter nodded and left her table. Kitty went back to her phone just as a huge plate of food slid across her view and thudded onto the table, catching her by surprise. A tiny female waitress was straining to push the enormous plate into position, her face visibly flushed from effort. “Here you go, miss. Phew, sorry, that was heavy,” she laughed and wiped her hand across her forehead in jest. She was only a tiny thing, it was no wonder she’d struggled, but this food...

“Holy crap,” said Kitty. “Sorry, but that is a LOT of food.” It was piled high with all sorts of glistening meats and fish and vegetables of every kind, an entire platter. “Josie must have meant it to be for both of us.”

“No idea,” said the tiny waitress cheerfully, “enjoy.”

Jesus. This was too much food. Kitty wasn’t hungry. She was insatiable. If not for the fact that she was in public she would have plunged face first into the glistening feast... no, fuck that, she didn’t care what the public thought. In fact the thought of being judged for her gluttony by almost anyone caused her loins to moisten. It was only Josie holding her back. Her old friend. Kitty put her phone away and stared hungrily and the mountain of food in front of her, hands spread flat on the table. They felt clammy. A bead of sweat blossomed on her chin and rolled gracefully down her neck to disappear between her breasts. Maybe just a bite to pass the time. She was in control of herself. Just a bite. Kitty lifted one hand and noticed that it was shaking slightly as she reached toward a chicken wing that she could hear faintly calling her name.

Josie lounged in her air-conditioned room and sipped her wine. Having selected the perfect little black dress to show off her slender physique she had leapt into it excitedly, fixed her hair and makeup, even selected what she hoped was an enviable perfume to show off to her old friend. But in her excitement she had rushed. Everything was perfect, but now she had to wait and she was bored. And probably drinking too much. She felt a little flushed, but maybe that was just excitement. She reached over to the ice bucket to pour another glass and glanced eagerly at the digital clock on the bedside table. Another half an hour and she would allow herself to head down. Her hand paused on the bottle for a moment before she changed her mind and picked up the phone again and asked to be connected to Barney. What if she left it too late and Kitty left? A flutter of nervous energy welled in her chest and she caught her breath as a click sounded in her ear. Barney’s voice. “Miss Hendricks, is everything okay?” The genuine concern in his voice was touching. She cleared her throat. “Yes, dear, of course. I’m just... well, you know. Sometimes we girls have trouble deciding what to wear and I just wanted to check on my friend. If... if you...”

Josie’s composure wavered for a moment at the thought of her plans going to waste, if Kitty left, if she felt embarrassed or slighted enough to get up and walk out, she would never agree to another meeting, all of her plans for revenge would be for nothing and-

“Miss Hendricks? Please, there’s no need to worry. Your friend is in good hands, I’ll take care of everything. It’s early, there’s nobody here. Your friend has my undivided attention. I promise you I’ll see that she feels welcome until you arrive.”

Josie put a hand over the phone to hide her sigh of relief. Barney really was a wonder. “Thank you, Barney. Please, when you next top up her drink, tell her I’ll be there shortly. Thank you again.”

“Not a problem, Miss Hendrick’s. The pleasure is all mine.” It sounded like he was smiling. “I must say, I don’t think you need to worry about her feeling neglected. She seems perfectly occupied with the meal you had us bring out. She’s uh, she’s really going to town on it. I mean, I hope that isn’t a rude thing to say, if...”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. No dear, don’t be silly, it’s fine. See you soon.” She put the phone down and smiled broadly. She poured herself another drink. Just half an hour. An easy wait. Perfect.

Kitty stared in disbelief at the swathe of destruction across the gigantic food platter and felt a mixture of shame and lust roll over her in a wave that seemed to break and crash blissfully between her tightly clenched thighs. Her stomach lurched and growled noisily before a tiny belch escaped her lips. It sounded a little wet. She bit her lip and tried to cross her thighs ever more tightly to quell the urge she felt to touch herself. Oh God. Oh God, was the handsome waiter watching her? God, what must he think? I’m such a disgusting pig. As she had the thought she caught herself staring at him. Was he coming over? Oh God don’t let him see what a pig I’ve made of myself. I want him to rub my tummy, tell me I’m fat and bring me dessert. Fuck. He IS coming over. Be cool. Be cool. Becoolbecoolbecoolbecooool. Fuck! “Hello!” she beamed up at him as he reached her table, in a voice she knew was a little too shrill. Jesus shitting Christ he was good looking. She wanted him to rip off her dress and cover her distended stomach in kisses. He smiled a beautiful smile and said quietly, “Hello miss. I spoke to Miss Hendricks and she said she will be down shortly. But in the meantime I intend to look after you as well as I can. Is everything to your liking? Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”

Fuck me from behind while you massage my bloated gut and shove handfuls of food into my mouth even as I beg you to stop. “No, no. Everything is great, thank you, you’ve... you’ve been far too kind, thank you, but I don’t,” Kitty swallowed and took a breath, “I don’t need anything.” Barney stood there for a beat. He looked as though he wanted to say something more. She wanted him to say more. Please say something. Don’t leave. Say something.

“Miss, if I may say, you look like you might be too... too hot. Shall I take your coat?”

Kitty stared into Barney’s eyes. “Please. Take off my coat.”

“Kitty! I. Am. SO sorry I’ve made you wait so long.” Josie’s voice tore through the quiet bar like a force of nature. What few eyes there were in the room turned toward her and the silence deepened. There in the doorway she stood, leaning luxuriantly on one hip, clad in a figure-hugging black dress that Kitty doubted she could get so much as a single one of her own legs into. Josie’s gorgeous dark hair was tied up, but not too tight. Just a little wildness about it, a few stray blades of hair framed her pale porcelain face. She could have been a model. Kitty had studied all her recent social media photos with envy, but she was far more beautiful in person. What a bitch.

The handsome waiter excused himself quietly as Josie made her way to the table. Flustered and halfway out of her coat, all Kitty could do was stare as Josie crossed the room. She seemed a little unsteady. New heels, probably. Those shoes looked like they’d never seen a day’s use. Only, the way she moved, confident but a little clumsy, for a moment Kitty could have sworn she was drunk. But it was far too early for that to be the case. And she looked so elegant besides. This was going to be a nightmare. Kitty began to blush, flooded with embarrassment, and she pulled her coat tightly around herself as Josie slid... less than elegantly into the cushion padded booth opposite from her. Fucking hell, she was plastered. Josie giggled as she landed heavily. “Shitting fuck, did you eat all of this yourself? No wonder you’ve gotten so fa..hahaha!” Her sentence vanished beneath a bout of uncontrollable laughter. Kitty gaped, lost for words, anger rising inside her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop,” Josie giggled and raised her hands defensively, “I think I’ve had a little too much to drink.” Her laughter trailed off and she smiled at Kitty. “You were horrible to me in school, you know. You made me hate myself.”

All of Kitty’s anger fell out of her as though a trap door had been released beneath her feet. “I hated you” was all she could say, but she didn’t feel it. “All your friends. Real friends, friends who saw you for who you were, not how you looked. Not how you... acted. How you WERE. So I called you names. Made fun of your weight. I was...”

Silence. The two women stared at each other. No anger and no humour. Only memories. “You were young,” said Josie. “I have regrets too. Did things and said things I wish I hadn’t. But you really hurt me. I thought today was about getting even with you, but now we’re here and all I can think about is what I’ve really wanted to say to you. All these years later. Katherine.”

Kitty clenched her hands into fists on the table. “I’m so sorry. I was jealous. I never liked the people I hung out with. I liked... I liked you. Do you remember that time we... in detention, after school?”

“I remember.” Josie shifted uneasily in her seat. “We were arguing, shouting at each other. I don’t really remember why, just that you were calling me names. Calling me fatty. I remember the teacher had left us alone for whatever reason, and we were shouting, and then we... we were...”

“Kissing.”

“But you pulled away.” There were tears in Josie’s eyes now and her lips quivered slightly as she spoke the words. Whispered. “You told me I was disgusting. Juicy Josie. That’s what you used to call me. And you said it then... but with so much venom. You told me never to tell anyone about the kiss and you never spoke to me again.”

“Josie, I’m sorry, it was a long time ago I never... I would never do that to you now. Not now. I actually. I...”

“You what? Do you know what you did to me? I’ve dieted for years. Denied myself pleasure... exercised and gone hungry to look like this. Because of you. And for what? I don’t even know who I am...” Tears ran tiny rivers down Josie’s face, trailing makeup and eyeliner across her perfect features.

Kitty reached across the table and placed a hand on Josie’s arm. “I thought you were beautiful. I was too weak to admit it. And confused. Fuck, this is embarrassing...”

“Tell me.”

“Josie, I liked the way you looked. I preferred it. I liked you... fat.”

At some point Barney reappeared. The two women had sat in silence for some time, just holding each other’s gaze. Remembering. Barney looked concerned, offering Josie a pristine white handkerchief from his tailored red waistcoat pocket. “Miss Hendricks, is everything alright? You seem upset.”

“Everything’s fine,” she smiled, taking the handkerchief and drying her eyes. As she handed it back to him she took his hand in hers. “Barney, can you have this taken up to my room?” She indicated the food.

“Of course, Miss Hendricks, anything.”

“Oh, please... call me Josie. And, if it’s not too much trouble... bring the food up yourself?”

“Anything,” he said again, with earnest. He turned to Kitty. “Will you be joining Miss... Josie? Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”

“Only that you call me Kitty. I will be joining Miss Hendricks.”

“Mmm. Wonderful. Well then. I imagine you’ll be wanting to leave. Allow me to get out of your way. I’ll bring this up to you shortly.”

He bowed slightly, perspiration beading lightly on his handsome face, and stepped back from the table to allow the two women to wriggle out of the padded booth. Inseparable, they left the room clinging fiercely to one another. Barney watched eagerly as they left, hoping nobody would notice the erection he was trying to ignore beneath his dark pressed uniform trousers.

Later, in Miss Hendrick’s hotel room, Barney was pulling the same trousers back on, a cigarette hanging loosely from his grinning lips. He glanced into a full length mirror as he surveilled the room, adjusted his hair and straightened his jacket. In the mirror he caught a glimpse of the empty food platter and turned to look at the two women sleeping on the bed. Naked and pressed together, facing each other, tightly embraced, they were a vision of beauty. Josie’s pale skin and athletic physique, contrasted by Kitty’s slightly darker, more voluptuous shape. Josie’s dark hair loose, brushing her delicate shoulders, her small firm breasts, her deliciously ripe nipples pink and inviting, pressed tenderly into the larger woman’s ample bosom. Kitty’s hair was shorter, lighter and curlier, her pretty face smiling contentedly as the two lovers held each other. Their stomachs, so obviously full to bursting from the food the two had urged each other to eat with such desperate need over the last hour or so, now looked like two swollen balloons being pushed together, ever so gently. In the silence of the hotel room Barney felt sure he could hear quiet gurgles coming from the two gorged women on the bed. It really was a shame, but he couldn’t stay, he needed to get back to work before anybody noticed.

Putting out the cigarette, he took one last look at the two women on the bed, smiled to himself and then turned for the door. He reached out and took the handle, then stopped. A moment passed and he just stood there. He took his hand from the door, walked over to the bed and picked up the phone. Pinning the receiver between his head and his shoulder, he pressed a button on the telephone and started teasing a cigarette from the crumpled packet beside it. “Hello, room service? Yes, could you send up some...” he paused as he saw Josie stirring quietly from her sleep. She looked sleepily up at him and smiled. “Could you just send one of everything? That’s right. Yes, I’m quite serious.” Josie closed her eyes, smiling, and moved closer to Kitty, kissing her gently on the lips. Kitty stirred as Barney put down the phone, her legs, interlocked with Josie’s, began to squirm and her hips and thighs began to writhe. “Oh God,” whispered Kitty. Her stomach protested loudly as both Josie and Barney began gently running their hands over it. “Oh God...”

#feedism feederism feederism-fiction idk how to tag stuff sorry if this is full of errors it's late and i'm too tired to proof read

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yellow-beacon · 5 years

Text

Making Love Out of Nothing at All

A/n: Just to be clear, this is not a y/n fic because I seriously can't write in "you" form (or whatever you call it) to save my life. Oc/Reader is a woman in her mid 20s living in Europe, working as a Barista. She is nameless, without any clear info about her or her personality. Here’s a link if you want to read this on AO3 instead.

Pairing: Hongjoong/ Reader

Genre: Porn with Plot, Angst, Hurt/comfort

Words: 12,759

Summary: This is just porn with angsty fucking plot. I supply wetness in your eyes and wetness in your pants. Reader is a barista who happens to meet someone she recognize just before closing up, is it fate? Probably not. Is it going to be happy ending? Probably not. I can't write summaries for shits but give it a shot, you're gonna love it ok, uwu

It'd been a quiet day with rain pondering down since lunch. The few patrons that were in the shop shuddered slightly from the sudden cold spring weather. They were scattered with a fair distance between them, as people often sat at cafes. I was cleaning the espresso machine and the working bench underneath, looking up from time to time to scan the perimeter of the cafe and making sure to be at close hand if someone needed something. A man standing outside in the pouring rain caught my glance. He was probably in his thirties and holding a big fancy camera, pointing it towards the cafe. I guessed that he was just a tourist that wanted to take a photo for future memories. I smiled for myself and went back to my cleaning. Looking back up 10 seconds or so later and the man was still there, taking photo after photo. A sudden rush of discomfort washed over me. My face was probably in all those photos and I just got the feeling that he was up to no good. A phone call seemed to interrupt his snapping and he hurried off quickly. I exhaled, maybe it was just me being paranoid. Time moved quickly, I was closing, finishing the last touches of cleaning when the last patron waved goodbye, “Thank you, bye” I yelled and waved back, hoping that she’d been the last one for today. I didn’t really have the time to help another patron. Another 5 minutes passed, and I was just about to go back to the office and get the keys when the doorbell emitted a soft clang as someone entered the door. A man, just slightly taller than I entered. He had a mysterious, almost cocky feeling about him, dressed in ripped washed outs, a grey trench coat and a black cap covered his eyes. A face mask covered the lower part of his face as well and I couldn’t see him properly until he was standing in front of me at the other side of the desk. I inhaled sharply when I recognized the chocolate browns that met mine. My stomach jumped and I gripped onto the desk hard, to secure my footing, an embarrassing gesture but I couldn’t care less at that moment. “Hi” He said, as confidently as he could, but the accent still broke through. I gulped, not really trusting my own voice just yet. There was a pause for only a few seconds, and the man pulled down the face mask down his chin revealing a cute button nose and lips that were pulled in an uncertain smile, “You know me?” he asked, a bit hesitant with my lack of reaction. I bit my lip and cleared my throat, feeling how my face heated up, suddenly self-conscious of my looks. The 9 hours of sweating, messy hair, smeared makeup, syrup on my hands and underarms and with coffee powder covering my body like a sheen layer didn’t do me justice. Because the man was someone I'd only met in my dreams, a man I admired, looked up to and loved, and my heart skipped before I opened my mouth, “Yes, I know you. You are Hongjoong” he gave me a relieved look. I looked around; I couldn’t understand that he was there. I’d entered some fan competitions lately, but I think I'd remembered if the prize would’ve been a private meeting. Was there a hidden camera? I looked over at the door, prepared for my friends to run in, laughing. I asked him about my suspicions and while he laughed, my heart pounded. I bit my lip, nervous that I’d made a bad first impression for making assumptions while he waved his hands in front of him. “No no, no camera, no prize, Just me. I need… to see you” It seemed like even though it took him a moment to articulate the words, he understood what I said. He let out a small noise of frustration, “How should I… are you Yeodonseang or Noona?” I felt my heart skip, and my face flushed, “Noona” I answered and Hongjoong nodded slowly, biting softly on his lower lip, seemingly lost in thought for a moment and my still confused heart was racing. I blurted out before I could stop myself, “What are you doing here?” I swallowed, hoping that I didn’t offend him with my straightforwardness. He didn’t mind but also didn’t seem to understand exactly what I was asking, “I had concert yesterday. Today we have… free time” I nodded and pressed on, “But what are you doing here?” emphasizing the “here” He opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted when the bell above the door rang, marking that someone entered. Hongjoong froze and quickly pulled the mask over his mouth again. He didn’t have to worry though, a big man in his fifties looked over at us and I yelled out a small, “Sorry, we’re closed” “Doesn’t look like it” He scoffed under a big moustache, eyes squinting and beer belly peeking out from underneath the shirt he was wearing. “I was just about to get the key” I lied, gave Hongjoong a glance which he returned, eyes peeking up from underneath the fringe, the twinkle in them made me breathless and I turned on my heel quickly. I took the chance to change into my civil clothes when I walked past the changing room. Taking a moment to remove the makeup under my eyes with a paper towel and wash my hands. A pair of ripped blacks hugged my legs and I thanked my lucky star for deciding to wear an Ateez band shirt before I grabbed my bag and jeans jacket as well. I grabbed the key in the office, my heart was doing somersaults and I took a deep breath before walking back in. The man was gone but Hongjoong wasn’t. The locks from his mullet peeked out from underneath the cap, resting on the collar of the coat as he was standing with his back toward me, watching the rain outside, protected from curious eyes by the one-way shaded windows. “I’m just going to…” I trailed off and walked to the door, locked it and then turned around to see him smiling at me. He motioned with his hand at my shirt. “You are Atiny, I know... I” he fought to find the right words while I killed the main lights, setting a dim and cosy atmosphere. I motioned for him to join me on the sofa in the far back where we would be basically invisible to the people outside. He removed his cap, running his fingers through the long hair, “I saw you yesterday, driving past us in the city. You like loud music, I heard “Say my name” You were singing, dancing, rapping” He wiggled his shoulders, a playful smile on his lips. I bit the insides of my cheeks, ashamed that I both, were so lost in my mind that I'd totally missed them, and that Hongjoong had seen my awkward dance moves because God knows I couldn’t dance at all. A sound of regret exited from my lips and I hid my face in my hands as my face flushed an even deeper red than before. “No no, you very cute, don’t hide” The playful smile turned into one with warmth, “So, I want to... talk” “Talk?” I asked, getting increasingly more confused where things were going to go. He ran his fingers through his hair, an awkward expression on his face and he wet his lips, “I want to meet you, not only see you. Want to hear your voice, make you laugh” I couldn’t help but stare, still in disbelief that he was sitting there in front of me, and now talking about how much he wanted to see me that my heart jumped, my breath choked and the ends of my ears matched the colour in my face. He played with the ends of his hair, almost shyly and with the same look of disbelief in his eyes that were in mine. Like I was the famous idol he’d been longing for. “You are very beautiful. My heart…” His voice had dropped an octave, from embarrassment of not being able to explain how he felt. He drummed softly on his chest in the rhythm of fast heartbeats and I wanted to hide my face in my hands again, “You seem so happy, listening to us. I've had dream, all day, planning how... I could meet you. I needed to be… careful. My members... didn’t want me to but… I had to” My heart was beating fast in my chest. If he’d been anyone else, a normal everyday human, I’d run as fast as my legs would take me. But Hongjoong wasn’t just an everyday person and even though he was from a smaller company, still fresh from debut, he couldn’t risk being seen like we were right now. Therefor the silent stalking and planning. The whole situation was still so unreal, and I pinched my thigh to make sure that I hadn’t fainted on work and this was all just a dream. It hurt, my brows furrowed from the pain and I played it off like confusion. The whole situation seemed so random. Thinking back, I couldn’t even remember a situation yesterday where they could’ve hidden out of my sight, and the fact that only a minute top had been enough for him to want to see me again made butterflies explode in my stomach. “How did you find me?” I asked, curious. “My manager” he answered, almost proud of his accomplishment of finding me, a smile on his lips again and I remembered the man that had taken photos of what I'd thought was the cafe earlier. Seemed like my gut was right about that one. Hongjoong rested his face on his clasped knuckles and watched me like I hung the moon and all the stars. I’d gotten an explanation, but I was still as confused as ever. I know I looked good with a face of make-up and body in certain angles, but I was all and all just an average girl, with average looks, average weight, height, living an average life… And he was, well, Hongjoong. What else could I say? He looked amazing, from the tousled mane of hair, to the challenging twinkle in the brown of his eyes, the pink tinted lips. I didn’t even need to get started on his body. He had that casual feeling of just throwing something on and look amazing, his clothes slim and form fitting, giving me a nice view of how well he was built. I suddenly got conscious of my own body as his seemed to not have one ounce of fat. I bit my lip and averted my eyes, suddenly shy. Still finding the whole situation bizarre, the man I'd been daydreaming about since their debut last year was just sitting there, watching me with a small smile on his lips. I finally found the courage to ask what I'd been wondering since he introduced himself. “Why me?” “Ah, Jagi” He sighed, overdramatically, like I was insane for ever questioning it, “Why not?” My mouth clamped shut. I didn’t have an answer for that. I couldn’t really argue when I didn’t know how I looked in his eyes. I must've worn a surprised expression because he half whispered, half chuckled "Cute" in Korean and before I realized what had happened, he took my hands in his across the table. The feeling of electricity ran through my body and my mind paused to process what was happening before it screamed at me to let him go, that I shouldn't touch him. His breath hitched, it was subtle, but I noticed and wondered if he felt the same feeling. I tried to let him go but he kept me there, comforting but firm, locking his gaze with mine and I could feel myself melting. “I… know how you feel. I’m idol… but I’m human, like you, ok? 10 fingers, like you…” He rubbed the palms of my hands with his thumbs, tracing across my fingers with his “A beating heart, like yours” He pulled me closer, across the table and pressed my open hand over his heart. It was beating fast, possibly even faster than mine. “Why you Jagi? Why not the girl I saw on our concert, she was cute too. Singing, dancing, rapping, like you…” He paused and gulped, eyes flickering from my eyes to lips since I got significantly closer from him pulling me over the table. “You are… special, you are something else… Noona” He breathed out the last word, face flushing and let his tongue flicked out, licking his lower lip before softly biting down on it, a shaky breath leaving his mouth. The warm, playful feeling that we’d had going on was blown away and I felt something else resonating in me. I’d never had an age kink, especially not on guys younger than me, but the way Hongjoong looked at me with the same intense look a predator had watching its prey, lit a flame in my body and I felt how my pulse picked up. The primal feeling of want and lust drenched me like a cold shower, the hair on my neck standing. He bit his tongue and gave me a look that reminded me of how he’d look at stage. He could feel what I felt, and he knew, was so sure of his charisma that it made him cocky. This was dangerous, the air around us suffocated me, his whole being had changed instantly and I didn’t yet know if I was nervous or excited. My tongue darted out to wet my lips and his fingers found their way to my face, stroking softly down my cheekbone with his fingertips, butterfly light over my throat to my neck where he stopped to grab a handful of hair. I choked out a moan and he chuckled breathlessly. “So sensitive. Good girl” He praised and guided my hand to his chest again, pressing it there for me to feel his racing heart again, encouraging me to come closer. “Not here, come” I said, and he followed in my steps as I guided us to the office in the back. I turned around with my back against the edge of the writing desk, the sight of him taking off his coat and throwing it to the side, running a hand through his hair and biting his lower lip, undressing me with his eyes already, made my knees weak. He slammed the door behind him close, hard enough to make the walls rattle and I clenched the edge of the desk behind me, thrilled and nervous. The light in the ceiling remained turned off, the only light in the room came from the window behind me, where natural soft light flowed in. He caught me in his arms and lift me up on the desk, separating my legs by standing between them. His forwardness made it hard to breathe and I gasped when he held onto me, the feeling of his skin against mine, made me shudder. How many times hadn’t I dreamed about this moment? For us to get lost in one another, devastated and ravaged until we couldn’t think. How many times hadn’t I fantasized about feeling like I did right now when his mouth placed butterfly kisses on my throat, his hands on my hips and mine pulling on his hair, my eyes towards the ceiling and my arousal already burning in my core. “Ah, Noona” He moaned in my ear and I gasped, placing my hands around his waist, urging him to come closer. He placed a hand on my chest, pushing on me to lay down and I inhaled sharply at the weight of him on my body, his lean figure pressing on me. I could feel how the muscles in his abdomen clenched to keep him up and make sure that I had breathing room. The picture I had of him changed in an instant. Hongjoong was strong, the parts of him that wasn’t lean was pure muscles and I shuddered. Both because the very apparent boner that poked against me and the realization that if he wanted to, he could do whatever he wanted to me, my own strength not even comparable. My legs rubbed against the sides of his hips wantonly and I pushed him forward with them slightly, grinding slowly. He realized, paused and locked gazes with me, suddenly shy that I could feel all of him. My stomach flipped and I feared that my neediness scared him, but I realized quickly that it wasn’t the case. The chocolate brown that previously had shined with cocky mischief and warm affection were now almost blown out. The black of his pupil had swallowed almost all. The tension between us could be cut by a butter knife and I gulped. The sound of it loud in the dead silent room. My heart was beating in my ears so loud that I was sure Hongjoong could hear it as well. “I’ve been waiting… to have you like this...” He brushed his hand over my cheek, and I leaned into his touch which earned me a small smile. “How did you know that this would happen?” I asked and he chuckled. “I hoped that you want me. We are 8. I’m lucky” I placed my arms around his neck, fingers playing with the long hair in the back, pulling on it softly, scraping my nails down his neck. He shivered involuntarily and I exhaled a smile, he was so sensitive to my touch. He was just about to dip down to place more kisses underneath my cheekbone again when the melody of a phone call made us both jump. He gave me a longing gaze that begged for forgiveness when he realized it was his that rang and took a step back away from my body. I immediately felt the loss of warmth and curled up on myself, sulky while he answered the call. I tried to not check him out but damn, he was making it hard for me, strutting around in those military boots, a clear dent in his pants still. My fingers itched to give myself some release, but I fought against the reflex, my arousal tense like a cord. I sat up again, still watching him with hooded eyes. Hongjoong answered the other person with a pout on his lips, a pout that soon changed into him biting his own tongue when he realized the intensity, I was watching him with. He finished the call, muttering things that sounded like swear words. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I… have to go. It was my manager; I must go back. We have… how do you say it… we can’t be outside alone for long" “Curfew?” I asked, a bit sad. My arousal still burning uncomfortable between my legs while Hongjoong nodded solemnly. The disappointment on his face made me yearn for him even more and I sighed, knowing there was nothing I could do. The sudden silence was deafening, and I felt tears in my eyes. Was this it? My dream, this moment, over? I know that I was the luckiest any Atiny had ever been but at the same time it sort of felt like I'd been desperately let down. “Don’t feel sad Jagi, I…” Hongjoong started and I was happy that he’d changed back to calling me Jagi, fearing that I’d jumped him then and there if he called me Noona again, “I’m not supposed to but maybe…” He grabbed a block of sticky notes at the desk and wrote down a number, and two names, “This is my room, my manager, and my… fake name. I have staff in the reception” He told me the name of the hotel and made me repeat it a few times to make sure that I remembered it. He gave me another look of longing, put on the cap that had been resting on the table we sat at and fished the face mask out of the pocket of his jacket. “Two hours Jagi” He said, and I could only nod, excitement making my heart pound. I unlocked the door and let him out, before collecting my own stuff and was out the door in the same moment I saw him rounding a corner.

..........

I’d taken a shower, thankful to the manager I’d been cursing earlier, feeling more confident while clean. I looked over my collection of underwear and lingerie. Was there really something that was too much in a moment like this? As much as I wanted to make him speechless, I didn't want it to seem like I was dressing up too much. Like he’d said before, we were both human. I scoffed, frustrated because time was ticking, and I'd rather die than being late. I reasoned back and forth with myself finally deciding that I only had one chance to make an impression and the matching black set that I only saved for special occasions hugged me in all the right places, the lace and cotton soft on my skin. I decided on simple black slacks and a woollen grey sweatshirt, blow dried my hair and put on basic makeup. If things went as I hoped, I didn't want to leave half a face of makeup in his bed. Time passed quickly and soon the taxi I’d called as soon as I got home, waited for me. I took a final glance in the mirror in my hallway, my heart pounding with excitement. I told the hotel name to the driver and we were there in less than 15 minutes. It was a five star one and the taxi driver gave me a subtle look of suspicion, checking out my clothes while I paid, as if I wore a cocktail dress underneath. My hands shook a little when I entered the reception, holding onto the sticky note Hongjoong had given me as if it was my lifeline. As I closed in on the desk, I remembered that I didn’t had an idea how Hongjoong’s manager looked like. I never got a good look at him when he was taking those photos outside in the rain earlier today and when I scanned the reception, no one there looked even remotely like him. My heart sank like a boulder to the bottom of my stomach. I was not going to give up, however and decided that I’d fight my way in if I had too. I started with the woman at the desk. She gave me a small pleasant smile, more so because she had to than her being happy to see me, eyes scanning my clothes with the same suspicion as the taxi driver. “Hi, there is someone I'm looking for. He’s supposed to show me to a room?” The woman squinted at me, a curious look of perplexity and concern in her eyes which quickly changed when I handled her the note with the name and supposed alias. She gave me the kind of respectful and slightly jealous smile that you’d give a person that’d just won something and reached for the phone on her desk. She called out a name and within 10 seconds a man excited an elevator at our left. I recognized him and he called out for me with an awkwardly long distance between us. “Hey beautiful girl, come with me” I wanted to sink through the floor when at least 15 people turned their heads towards us and I hung my head, embarrassed. “The note” The manager ordered as soon as the doors closed and I gave him the sticky note, he looked at it from a longer distance than needed, as if he was farsighted but refused to wear glasses. He nodded and gave it back to me, “You should be honoured. You’re the first on this tour, he has been holding out surprisingly long, considering we’ll be done in a few days” My whole body froze to ice when he mentioned that I was the first one, meaning that there had been others in the past and most likely would be more in the future, probably more than he could remember. I cursed my stupid heart for thinking just for a second that I was special in any way. He was an idol, and with the look and charisma he had, fans were ready to serve themselves on silver plates for him. Just like I'd done. The manager noticed the change of mood and reassured me, “Don’t worry, you might still be the only one this time, it has happened before” “Thank you” I forced out, just as the elevator stopped, the words left a bad taste in my mouth. “Go left and then right at the next corner” The manager said and bowed slightly. I bowed back, simply because it felt better since he was my elder. The feeling of conflict weighing on my shoulders. I walked down the corridor, my steps heavy, pausing when I reached the door and checking again if I was at the right room. I stared at it, debating on whether to knock or just turn away and forget about this whole situation. I didn’t want to be just one of many, no one did, and it didn’t matter that he was an idol. Everyone wanted to imagine that they were special. Was the reward good enough? I asked myself. I felt like my heart was breaking and tears threatened to swell over. But if I walked away now, he’d find someone else and I honestly couldn’t live with the fact that I could’ve had the night of my life. I took a deep breath and tapped at my tear canals, as if the movement would force the tears back. I knew that this was one night, and then he’d be gone. This was their first time in Europe, and I was hellbent on being the only one he’d come back to. Telling myself this as a mantra helped and I knocked on the door. Only a few seconds passed before it was pulled open and he was standing there, looking as wonderfully ethereal as a dream. He’d changed as well, wearing a grey dress shirt and black slacks, only sock and barefaced. I wet my lips, wondering how I even considered walking away. He smirked, gave me a playful look and I swallowed down the nervous feeling that threatened to take my voice away, “We’re matching” He said, voice amused and husky and chuckled when I realized as well, “We sure do” my voice shook a little from the pressure of choking down tears earlier and the anxiety of my thoughts. I wanted, needed for him to remember me and only me. Ready to seduce him with every might in my body, I turned it into a play that immediately turned out to be harder than I thought when Hongjoong’s expression changed. A look of worry made his eyebrows furrow and mouth to be pressed into a thin line as he stood aside to invite me in. “Are you ok?” He asked and the concern felt like an arrow to the heart. I paused with my answer as I entered the room, everything from the cream coloured walls to the crisp white sheets on the bed spoke of luxury and I glanced out the window. We were on the 20th floor and the city lights was like an ocean underneath us. I nodded slightly before taking a deep breath, talking while exhaling. “Yeah, I’m fine” Hongjoong sat down on the bed, legs crossed, and I bit down on my lip, imagining how he’d look, laying on his back, hair sprawled across the pillow and the same blown out black eyes he’d had earlier at my shop. I licked my lips and fought the urge to jump him then and there. He motioned with his head to the place next to him and I felt a familiar flame crackling in the pit of my stomach. “Tell me” His voice had a dead serious voice and I realized I’d been busted, “My members don't like talk. But... I know" I pressed my lips together, feeling how my ears flushed red from the shame. I looked down at my hands, the anxiety made my hearth race. I took a deep breath and decided to just get it over with it. Hongjoong was determined and I know that there wasn’t an idea to try and convince him. “Can I… be your only one in Europe?” I muttered and Hongjoong squinted, not able to pick up a word I said. I looked away; my heart pounded so fast that I could hear it in my ears. I fell back on the bed in a weak escape attempt from his burning eyes and looked up at the white ceiling instead, taking a deep breath while I felt my face heating up, “I said, can I be your only one in Europe?” “My only one?” he repeated, puzzled. I imagined the small wrinkle that showed up between his eyebrows when he didn't understand something but refused to look at him, scared that I'd chicken out and be unable to continue, “Your manager told me, that I was the first on this tour. He seemed surprised, almost impressed that you’d managed to hold on for so long and I really thought that I…” I swallowed, and sighed heavily, trailing off, “I’m just stupid, imagining things that weren’t there… I'm, I'm sorry… I’m making a fool out of myself” I hid my face in my hands feeling how the flush had crept down my neck, ashamed of the whole situation. Soon I felt the bed dip and I could hear how he moved over to my head, carefully removing my hands from my face, a small smile on his lips. Eyes crinkled with warmth and I gasped breathlessly as his touch send ripples across my skin. “I said before, I like talking...” My eyebrows furrowed and I looked over at him as he scooted back slightly to lean against the headboard of the bed, “I talk with Atiny… I surprise… them, we talk” I could hardly believe my own ears, was this really what the manager thought we were going to do as well? Just talk? Was it just my own nasty thoughts that believed him to have a girl in every capital? I felt even more ridiculous than before; I had seriously been on my way of walking out on a fantasy I'd had for 6 months because Hongjoong was a sweetheart who cared about his fans. “Told you, you are special Jagi. If you want, you will be the only one... this time” He smiled from ear to ear and I could honestly cry but fought against it as he motioned for me to come up to him. I laid next to him instead, my head resting on his chest and his fingers in my hair and it felt like I was blushing from head to toe, “I choose you and I know I made the right choice” he whispered now, leaving kisses and nuzzled into my hair. The pace of his heart picked up and looked up at him, only to get a kiss on the forehead instead. I bit down on my lips from the sudden sweet gesture, holding back the sudden shyness that flooded through my body. Hongjoong chuckled softly and lied down properly, pulling me on top of him. The sweet moment was over in an instant as the sudden change of position send small shockwaves through my body. His hands on my hips felt like they were made to be there. I supported myself with one hand on his chest, feeling his heart fluttering like a trapped sparrow underneath. I couldn’t help but reach forward to swipe a strand of hair from his forehead and his brows furrowed like I’d burned him, he chewed softly on his bottom lip, eyes hooded. “Noona…” He whispered and I hummed a response, “I choose you because I hope you can… teach me” “Teach you?” I couldn’t help but ask as I leaned forward, planting a kiss just below his ear, where his carotid artery was. His pulse just next to it picked up in speed and I continued. My kisses sloppy mixed with soft nibbles and soon he was gasping underneath me. “Noona, please listen” He whined but I didn't, couldn’t. I loved the sounds he made and simply couldn’t control myself as I started to unbutton his shirt. I only undid one or two before I was manhandled to the side so that we switched positions, him holding me down at my wrists and coming dangerously close to my face, locking his eyes with me and I choked out a gasp. “Listen” He ordered, dominance radiating from his whole body as he pushed his entire weight on me and I submitted without question, his eyes black and hooded, and his half hard cock pushing against my clothed cunt. I gulped, the burn that my arousal emitted made me want to rub my legs together and I fought against it. The man that had been writhing underneath me was gone and I felt like this version of him was a force that could not be reckoned with. “I…” He paused, closing his eyes as his cheeks flushed but I wouldn't dare to make fun of his embarrassment now, “I have never… I mean, I have been close but never” He wet his lips, closed his eyes and took a deep breath before locking his gaze with mine again, “You are... my first” I choked on my breath, it felt as if I’d been punched in the stomach and Hongjoong looked away, ashamed of his lack of experience. My heart swam over with affection. I didn’t care whether it was about the time or opportunity or that he’d been saving himself up for a special moment, this was it. With me. I’d punch the air in victory but decided it was inappropriate and my conscious silence seemed to bring down the man still very much laying on me, down. I wet my lips and cupped his face in my hands. “Words can’t explain how happy you just made me. It’s an honour, and I know how I sound but you… you’re perfect, you’re lips, your eyes, your nose” My fingers brushed against his lower lip before traveling down his sides, “And this body…” My fingers reached forward, and I continued to unbutton his shirt, slowly, like I was opening a gift and I paused after pulling it over his shoulders. I’d imagined this moment more times than I could remember but nothing, not my wildest dream could compare with how he looked. He bit his lip still a bit shy but loving the attention I gave him, drank my desire for him like it was the only thing he craved and I placed my hands on his chest, feeling the muscles underneath the soft skin on his stomach, flex under my touch, “You’ve dreamed about today, I’ve dreamed for 6 months, about you…” I planted kisses on his throat again, earning a sharp inhale that turned into a gasp as my hands travelled across his chest, muscles clenching again under my light touches and I bite my lips at the sight, “Imagined you a thousand times, imagined a moment like this, getting myself off with a photo of you in my hand, never be able to have a one night stand without fantasizing that they were you” I raise my legs and rubbed my inner thighs against his hip, finally submitting to my own lust as my hands reached for my shirt before I pulled it off. A sharp inhale and his breathing sped up as he gazed down on me with hooded eyes. I took his hand and placed it on my hip, guided it down my thigh to the place between my legs where I craved his touch. “Why don’t you find out how wet I am for you?” Something snapped inside of him and he cupped my face, almost threatening to hurt us both with the level of intensity as he finally pressed our lips together. I gasped at the feeling, letting out a small sob and he growled almost animalistic in response, grabbing a handful of my hair to pull me closer, licking his way into my mouth and I obliged. He tasted like americano and toothpaste and I drank him up, gasping against his lips. It was sloppy, all lips and licks and nibbles and the sound of us bounced on the walls and I got drunk on it, on him. The desperate sounds he made as he softly grinded down on me drove me crazy and I responded with his movement, rolling my body against his, the smell of his cologne surrounding me made me weak and I took deep breaths of it, tried to memorize the smell of him in my mind. With one hand still in my hair, the other stroked down the side of my body and I flinched, slightly ticklish. He chuckled into the kiss and stroked down my skin again, putting in more pressure this time. “Fuck” I gasped for air against his lips, his hands where all over me, eager fingers slipping into the edges of my pants and he moaned against me when my fingers travelled from his chest, over his navel and the button of his slacks, finally cupping him over his pants. I couldn’t help but gasp when I got a better understanding of how big he was, licking my lips and gulped, my arousal coiling and butterflies of excitement fluttering in my stomach like something was chasing them. He didn’t waste a second and began to immediately dry humping my hand, greedy for the friction he craved. My heart jumped and I couldn't help but gasp again at his impatient action. “Noona… tell me what to do” He whined, keen on giving me as much of him as I gave him of me. I reached behind me and unclasped my bra but didn’t have to give him instructions before he leaned down and flicked one of the sensitive buds into his mouth, sucking lightly and let his teeth graze against them, a playful smile on his face when he looked up at me from underneath long lashes. Playfully teasing the other with his fingertips before switching. I was a gasping mess within seconds, fingers burrowed into his hair, pressing him closer and begging him not to stop. “You sure you haven’t done this before?” I asked, voice shaky and he chuckled, deep and guttural as he held me in place. My mind flashed back to a few moments earlier when we talked about my feelings and he was the sweetest person I’d ever talked to. That man was blown away and Hongjoong, the man that seemed possessed while performing, the one that had thousands upon thousands of girls quaking, had taken over. He was here, between my thighs, rutting against me without a plan to stop and my heart pounded in my ears, on its way of bursting with bliss and ecstasy. My lips found his again, and he panted between the kisses, lost in a trance, his body shaking as he grinded down on me again and I moaned, tears formed in my eyes from arousal. “Tell me what you want me to do” I whispered while planting wet kisses against his collarbone. He was unstoppable now, a complete mess and I pulled on the lining of his pants. Korean sputtered from his lips in a desperate rant and I interrupted, “English please” “Help me” He choked out, making eye contact with me and I choked on air. Eyes glazed over and cheeks flushed pink so gone in his own lust that it drove me crazy. I didn’t waste a second and pulled down the zipper of his slacks before closing it around his hard cock. He cried out, face contorted, mouth open and his face burrowed in the crook of my neck as if he was ashamed with how lost he was already. I gave his cock a few tugs and my mouth watered as I imagined how he would feel inside me. “Please, please…” Hongjoong gasped and pushed on my shoulders. Any other words weren’t needed, and I rolled us around again, so that I was on top. I kissed his collarbone, down his chest and stomach, taking my sweet time and lapping and nibbling on his skin as I went, soaking up the sound he made. The last kiss was placed just below his navel before I made eye contact with him again as I closed my hand around his cock. He bit his lip, head thrown back at the pillows and his hair sprawled out on it as beautifully as I thought it would. He left me breathless and now it was up to me to do the same to him as I took him into my mouth without a second thought. What sounded like a whole list of swear words in Korean fell from his lips as the tip of his cock hit the back of my throat. I hollow my cheeks and pressed up my tongue at the underside of him before licking my way up to the slit where I dipped my tongue. I couldn’t help but let out a moan at the taste, his taste, and felt my eyes tearing up as I watched him lose control. My own arousal was soaking my panties, but I didn’t care, placing all my focus on the man writhing underneath me. I went down on him again, repeating my action, bopping my head up and down, slowly but surely dipping him lower and lower into my throat until my nose touched his pubic bone. I swallowed around him, focusing on breathing slowly through my nose, saliva coating my chin and I looked up again, making eye contact with him. His eyes glossy, lips red from biting into them too hard, panting out short breaths and face and chest flushed pink and I moaned to the sight of him, sending ripples across his skin as he felt the vibrations of it, just laying there and taking all that I gave him. He placed his hand in my hair, gently and I melted in it, bopping my head again and he thrust once, slightly to see if I minded. I usually did, but this was different, I knew that I wasn't going to be his only one. For this tour maybe, but I was going to be the first of many. He was just testing his waters with me and I was hellbent on making a perfect example on just how you were going to do it so that he never, no matter how many he’ll end up sleeping with, will find someone that was as good as me. So, I let him, and the thrusts got deeper, his hand pushing me down on his cock, using me only to get himself off and I could feel tears running down my cheeks from the stress it was causing in my throat. “Noona… please… I’m…” I paused, swallowed him down into my throat again and watched as he came undone, face contorted, his other hand twisting the sheets, body convulsing underneath me as hot spurts of cum ran down my throat and I choked and let him go before I could swallow. He cursed, hair tousled, chest heaving and cock twitching still, and I snapped a picture of this moment in my mind to carry with me. The sight of him in the tears of my eyes as magical as an aurora. I gave him a minute to come down from his high and felt my heart flutter when he opened his eyes again, meeting mine and rolled them at the sight of me, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he smirked. He pulled himself up to meet my lips again, kissing me chastely, teasingly and I swallowed, my heart pounding as he pushed gently on my chest. As soon as my back hit the bed, he was on top of me again, tasted my lips and moaning at the taste of himself on my lips. He let his mouth travel and placed butterfly kisses from my neck to my belly button, each of them leaving me shaking for more and I choked when he finally popped the button to my slacks. Taking the moment to fully undress himself as well. My panties were soon to follow, and he grinned from ear to ear when he realized how soaked they were. I hide my face in my hands, clenching my legs together, embarrassed by his eyes on me as he threw our clothes aside, voice hoarse and deep. “Let me see” He rubbed my thighs comfortingly and I separated them, earning a guttural growl from him when he finally saw my naked self, and the effect that he had on me. His fingers traced the inner side of my thighs and I clenched around nothing, so sensitive that the butterfly touches almost hurt. “Tell me…” He said, needing guidance in how I wanted him to proceed. “Touch me” I managed to get out and pressed two fingers at my clit, lazily rubbing myself, melting under my own touch. I grabbed Hongjoong’s hand and he mimicked me with the two fingers. I guided him and choked out a sob at the feeling of being filled exploded my senses when he reached beyond the folds, pushing his fingers knuckles deep into me. He seemed surprised by my reaction, thinking he’d hurt me and flinched away, but I kept him there, still with my hand around his wrist, “It’s good, don’t stop” I cried out softly, and felt my eyes roll back as I pumped his fingers. A gasp emitted from his lips at my sudden neediness, and he got the idea quickly, softly removing my hand and picking up the speed. “Good?” He asked and I nodded frantically, never wanting him to stop. My breathing uneven “Can I… taste?” He met his eyes, black from lust and couldn’t help but look down, gulping when I realized that he was already half hard again. Damn, I’d missed youngers guys and their infinite stamina. I nodded again, “Yes, God yes. Please” He bit down a smile of amusement at my enthusiasm before going down on me, pressing his tongue flat over my cunt, humming at the taste of it, still with his fingers inside me, his movements slower and I sobbed, bucking into his mouth. My reaction seemed to encourage him because he took another lick, pressing his nose against my pubis bone, a small smirk on his lips as he began eating me out and God, was the boy a natural. I was shaking within a minute, the sound of slurping as he drank my juices made my legs turn into jelly and stomach clench. He gently sucked my clit into his mouth, and I was a writhing mess underneath him. He came up for air, wet chin and hooded eyes and felt my eyes tearing up from the vision. He noticed my intense stare and licked his lips, loving the taste and asked, “Did you dream? About this?” I bit my lower lip, nodding, not trusting my own voice at all and he smiled, a warmth in it that left me breathless. He slowed down his movements again and I really thought that was it but Hongjoong had other thoughts as he laid his other hand flat on the lower part of my stomach, letting out a small “Woah” and I chuckled at his reaction, “I can feel” he said, fascination in his voice and I smiled, a smile that changed into a groan when he dived back in for another taste, keeping his hand on my stomach, putting pressure on my uterus while at the same time pulling the hood on my clit up to make it more accessible . There is no way he hadn’t done this before, but I couldn't be bothered how right now, only thankful that he had the knowledge as he threatened to push me over the edge. His grunting became louder with mine and I raised myself up on my elbows, curious, only to curse when I noticed how he, in pure frustration, humped the bed, desperately craving friction. The look of him, so wantonly lost in his lust and him softly sucking on my clit again send me over and I grabbed his arm as I came, convulsing under his touch. He drank me up before pulling his fingers out of me, a look of fascination in his eyes when he separated his fingers and a string of cum connected them. He put the fingers into his mouth, sucking on them like he wanted to have every drop of me, and I gulped as he gave me a look, still with his fingers in his mouth. He went back with the same fingers, smearing the wetness there before bringing said fingers to my mouth, I obliged and took them in my mouth. His eyes blinked, eyelids heavy and on half-mast as he suppresses a moan behind clenched teeth. He climbed on top of me, not giving me a chance to breathe, before he caught my lips, mouth open to welcome my tongue and I groaned at the feeling of us finally laying skin to skin, his weight on me so good that I had a hard time controlling myself. “Ah, wait” Hongjoong suddenly exclaimed and jumped off the bed to a shopping bag in the sofa at the other side of the room. He pulled out a package of condoms and I bit down on my finger to suppress a giggle at his adorableness, the mixed feelings of wholesomeness and devastation crossing in my stomach as he stood there, in all his glory. Honeyed skin, lean muscles, the long hair that reached passed his shoulders and cock stiff like a rock, blood filled red and smeared with pre-cum. I scooted up to the headboard, throwing myself on the pillow and reached down to play with myself, taking in every part of him and took a mental snapshot. Hongjoong finally looked up, not any wiser with the wrapper and took a shaky breath at the sight of me. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth before chewing it softly and I reached out for him as he joined me on the bed again. I broke the package and then showed him how to put it on, earning a gasp as I rolled it down. I laid down again, separating my legs and he placed himself between them, he leaned forward, grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers as I guided him in, cm by cm, adjusting to the sudden size and he burrowed his head in the crook of my neck, a cry erupted my his lips. I held my breath, and my back arched when he was finally sheathed inside me, the soles of my feet on his back, pushing him until he was balls deep. Shaky puffs of air in my ear made my skin prickle and I rubbed my thighs on the sides of his hips, stroking his chest with the hand that wasn’t being held and the touch seemed to wake him from the spell he was under because he snapped his hip, just slightly but I choked on my breath from the friction. He repeated the movement, more and more bold with every snap of his hips and soon he was thrusting into me, deep and dangerously slow. He cupped my face with his free hand and pressed his lips upon mine, it was sweet, loving and I turned into putty in his arms, rolling my body with his. I moaned with him as he picked up speed, locking his gaze with me as he pounded me into the mattress, his hand cupping my face still. “God Noona… so beautiful” I whined and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling him down to my lips again, softly nibbling on the bottom and he inhaled sharply at the surprise. “Don’t be bad girl” He chuckled but I saw how a different fire had lit up in his eyes when I did that. I was going to push it as far as I could. I took the hand that cupped my cheek and placed it on my neck instead and he almost paused as I made him close his hand around it. His mouth fell open and his eyebrows raised, a cocky expression and I inhaled sharply when he picked up his speed again, showing no signs of getting tired. I reached between our bodies and pressed down on my clit, my head falling back against the pillow at the euphoric feeling of him so deep within me. The shortness of my breath spurring him on as he caressed my neck with his thumb. He licked his lips before leaning down again, darting his tongue out to lick across my lower lip before meeting mine and it was so sloppy and nasty, our breathing mixing together and I was close, I could feel it in my core desperately pushing down on my clit, Hongjoong looked like he wasn’t far from tipping over the edge as well. A few more thrusts and strokes over the hood of my clit and I fell, harder than I'd done ever before, my hearing blown out, body shaking and my vision blurring. “Hongjoong” I gasped out on the top of my high and he sobbed into my shoulder when hearing his name slipping from my lips. It only took a few more seconds and he was gone as well, head thrown back and he screamed silently as I felt his cock twitching inside of me. He collapsed on top of me, breathing hard into my ear and I closed my arms around his back in an embrace. He nuzzled into my neck, mindlessly placing a kiss there and I giggled softly at the ticklish feeling. We lay there for a few more seconds until the overstimulation of being inside of me became too much and he pulled out, earning a groan from both of us, before rolling off the bed, feet light on the floor as he walked to the bathroom. He motioned me to join him and I entered the room as he started the shower. He extended his hand and pulled me under the shower head, the other hand placed on my hip and a sudden domestic feeling washed over me as he reached for the soap, helping me with my back and shoulders, massaging them softly. I returned the favour, his hair reached longer than expected when straight and wet and I combed my fingers through it, earning a small moan of satisfaction. He turned around, and I could hear myself gasp still not believing that I got to share this moment with him, and he smiled, giving me a peck on the mouth before placing his arms around me, "Thank you, Jagi" I swallowed, realizing that this was the beginning of the end and felt tears collecting under my eyes, thankful that we were standing under the shower, "No, thank you… for trusting me and for giving me your first time" I rubbed the tears that threatened to fall, out of my eyes, determined not to cry. We dried up and I was just about to reach for my clothes when Hongjoong's hand on my arm stopped my movements. "Stay?" He asked and gulped, voice almost a whisper and I looked up at him, surprised but over the moon and I could only nod as he led us to the bed again, pulling the covers around our bodies. He held me close, took the role as the big spoon and intertwined our hands over my chest. He placed a kiss on the nape of my neck, and I took a deep breath, feeling my heart racing from the butterflies in my stomach, endorphins pumping my brain full of serotonin and I leaned back against his chest, feeling his breathing as his chest rose. "Sleep Jagi, I'm here" Hongjoong whispered in my ear and I melted at his words, letting my body relax.

..........

I suddenly woke up not even realizing that sleep had overtook me, it was still dark outside, the room slightly illuminated by the moonlight above and city underneath, bathing us in dim lighting. I guessed that I'd only slept for a few hours. A groaning made me aware of what woke me up and I turned around, just as Hongjoong caught my gaze. His eyes were glossed over and his breath caught in his throat when he realised, he'd been busted. I licked my lips, my arousal turning on like a light switch and I reached my hand underneath the covers, placing my hand on his chest, trailing my fingers down his frame, earning a pitched gasp. He was fucking his own hand, pulling on himself while grinding, movements erratic and I wondered how long he must've been awake, watching me and slowly losing his composition. I swatted his hand away and he let out a moan when my fingers closed around him instead. His eagerness, the clenched eyes and biting at his own lips, savouring the feeling, had me wet in seconds, the burn ticking between my legs made me squirm. He groaned as I let him go to push a finger inside myself to make sure that I was wet and slick for him. The dirty look he’d send me changed soon as I climbed on top of him. He inhaled shakily, placing his hands on my hips, and I could feel him shaking from controlling his need to grind up against my ass. "I have an IUD, it's like a condom but already inside me. We could do it without… I understand if you don’t want to… but I'm healthy and I can't get pregnant… it's your choice" He sucked his lip into his mouth, eyes heavy and cheeks flushed at my proposition, his cock twitching at the thought of coming inside of me and licked my lips, resisting the urge to roll my body back against him as he nodded, his hands gripping my waist harder as he rose me up. I guided him in, my head thrown back and pant coming out in short breaths as I felt him naked inside me. Hongjoong let out a choked sob from the feeling of being so deep into me again and I clenched around him, teasing him and he inhaled sharply, bucking his hips into me, head thrown back, blinded by lust. He pulled at my waist, encouraging me to move and moaned, guttural and hungry as I did just that. I placed a hand on the bedpost, the other in his hair as I ride him, arching my back and he placed both hands on my ass, helping me with the rhythm, his breathing laboured. He wouldn't last long, already ahead of me before we even started and I pushed my hand between us to furiously rub my clit, racing the finish line with him. I leaned down to catch his lips and he cried into my mouth, the thrusting irregular and offbeat and I clenched around him, urging him on as my tongue met his in another open kiss. His hands on me tightened and I brushed away hair that stuck to his forehead just in time to see his face contorted, just a beautifully as it had the first time. His back arching and head burrowing back into the pillow as he stilled his movements, his whole body tensing up from shooting his cum deep into me and I gasped at the feeling, riding out his orgasm, milking him completely dry. He pushed me away soon after and I was only offended for the few seconds it took for him to place himself between my legs. I gasped as he wasted no time, pushing three fingers into my cumfilled cunt, smirking from ear to ear at the squelching sound it made and my fingers immediately pushed down on my clit, happy that he'd noticed and was down to taking care of my orgasm as well. He pushed me over the edge faster than I wanted to admit, praising me with soft words making sure to not leave my body until I was down from my high. We breathed deep for a minute before he leaned down, placing a soft kiss on my lips, "Sorry" his voice deep and husky and I sighed a smile, not believing what his was saying. "For waking me up?" I asked, eyebrows raised, and he nodded, an apologetic expression on his face and I cupped his face in my hand. He leaned into it, eyes closed, taking a deep breath and the intimacy of it made my heart jump. My other hand combing through his messy hair, small beads of sweat had collected at the roots and I could help but kiss him again, keeping him there for a little longer than necessary, breathing through the nose and revelling in the feeling of his lips pressed against mine, my hand combing through his hair again, pulling on it softly and he took a shaky breath against my lips. He leaned over me, supporting himself with one hand and placed the other on my chin, forcing my mouth open with his thumb, deepening the kiss, sneaking his tongue into my mouth. I couldn't help but moan, my hands traveling from his head, down his ribcage to his waist where I pushed him closer to me. He took another shaky breath, his hand on my chest, feeling my heart picking up speed. I got drunk on him, his taste, his smell, the way his body moved against mine send ripples over my body and I could feel how goose bumps covered my skin. He chuckled at my reaction, spurred on by it, sipped on my desire like a fine wine, his hands and lips moving over my body, making me come undone. I placed my legs over his waist, and he dug his fingers into my thighs, leaving my lips to sit up, basically pulling my lower half into his lap. I groaned at his impatient yearning, relished in him getting this worked up for me again, barely any pause in this never-ending appetite of his. I met his eyes, pupils dilated, and I could feel his heartbeat ticking in his wrist where he held me down. He looked ashamed again and I felt how his half-hard cock poked against my entrance as he broke eye contact. I was quick this time though, not letting him escape, cupped his face and turned his head so that he looked at me again. “It’s ok” “I can’t control myself… not with you… like this” He groaned, breathing shaky and he bit down hard on his lower lip, threatening to draw blood when I couldn’t help myself from spreading my legs and he gulped at the sight of me, wet and lost in indulgence. Cum from our previous session oozing out and I pressed two fingers against my clit, back arching involuntarily as pleasure shot through my body. His grip on me tightened, a moan escaping his lips and I felt him twitching against me, pearls of pre-cum dripped from the tip and smeared on my inner thigh. My heart fluttered at the sight of him losing it again, eyes black from the incitement and I choked on my breath when his hands rubbed circles towards my waist, taking a hold of them instead. I met his eyes, nodding silently as he lined up, keeping the eye contact as he entered me for the third time this night and I muffled a cry by biting down on my lower lip, feeling like I was going to explode. His hand reached for mine and I grabbed it, lacing our fingers together as he paused. The feeling of being fully inside me again made him shudder and he paused to feel the sweet moment of just staying connected as well. It was different this time, the intimate feeling that radiated between us made my heart clench and I pulled him down for a kiss before urging him to move with a snap of my hips. The obscene sound of cum leaking out of me to make place for his cock made him whine against my mouth, his thrusts hard and slow. He sat back up, head thrown back, the hand that wasn’t holding mine gripped my hip and he moved agonizingly slow, taking his time with me, watching my every reaction. A devilish smirk on his lips as he picked up the speed, and I cried out softly from the friction. But then he slowed down, almost immediately and choked out a chuckle when I swore at him. He adjusted, looking for my sweet spot and then groaned with satisfaction when I sharply inhaled, my fingers reaching between us. He had a perfect view from his position, eyes flickering from my face and to his cock, watching how the lips of my cunt swallowed around him as he pounded my body into the mattress. I held into him, my breathing coming out in short pants. “So beautiful Jagi, my Jagi... mine” he whispered, letting go of my hip to place the hand over my cheek, engulfing my body with his to kiss my lips again and I sobbed into them, pouring every feeling I’d ever felt for him into that kiss. Every minute of every hour that I’d been cheering him on, wanting nothing but success for him, for them, never being able to do much more with a minimum wage and loans over my ears. Loving him, or at least the version he displayed for the fans, fascinated by his work ethic, his passion for the music, the way he did everything he did so effortlessly, be it rapping, singing, dancing or composing. Hoping and praying for him and his health for these past months and all it took was just a minute and he decided to share all that was him with me. I held onto him, breathing every word that I wanted to tell him, every feeling that I couldn’t express because I didn't want to push them on him. We shared a moment now, a moment that would change when the sun went up. “Don’t stop” I whispered, feeling how I was standing at the edge, ready to topple over at any second. He moaned, closing his hand around my throat in a soft grip, putting pressure on my windpipe with his thumb. There was a wildfire in those black eyes of his and it felt like I was dancing with the devil, and I threw my head back, submitting to the feeling of falling. Hongjoong choked out a gasp at the sight of me, picking up his speed to chase down his own high and I forced my eyes opened to watch him as he reached his limit. Mouth falling open, eyes squeezed shut and body involuntarily jolt against mine, erratic, filling me up again and I held onto him. The sight and my feelings shook me to the core and tears filled my eyes faster than I could stop them. He slumped against me, not bothering with the courtesy of holding himself up but I didn't mind. The pressure of his body on mine felt good and I bit onto my lips, my fingertips caressing his back and I looked out the window to see the moon lower than when I woke up. Just a couple of hours, two at most and the sun would be up. I swallowed and swallowed again, feeling how a big lump of anxiety formed there pushing my tears to fall and I blinked, tried to fight the feeling off but it couldn’t be helped. It only took a moment for Hongjoong to notice my uneven breathing and he hoisted himself up, scared that he’d hurt me, fear in his eyes and I waved my hand in front of me, “It’s not you, don’t go” I whined, cringing at my own desperation as I pushed him down on my body again with a hand on his back. He gave me a worried look, “Jagi…” he trailed off, not knowing how he could express his concern to me in English and I smiled, “I’m fine really, I just... “I looked out the window again and he followed my sight, “I don’t want to go back to sleep” He nodded, a sombre look on his face before he stood up and walked towards the bathroom. “Come” He ordered, and I followed him, feeling how the mixture of cum and discharge trickled down my leg, hearing the shower faucet turn on. He turned away quickly as soon as I entered the lit-up room. Eyes strained at the bathtub as he adjusted the temperature before sitting down in the bathtub and made place between his legs, motioning for me to sit down as well. “If you want to clean” He gave me the shower head and looked away, holding the drain stopper in a death grip and my heart swelled with gratitude as I cleaned myself, holding back a moan when I realized the amount he’d put in my body. I could feel him tensing up behind me at the wet noises I produced, and I was impressed with the self-control he had. I handled him the shower head again and he gave me the drain stopper before putting on the faucet at full power, the lukewarm water nice and chill on my heated skin and I leaned back at his chest with my eyes closed. He moved away my hair from my shoulder, placing a kiss over my collarbone and I wanted to pause time, to put this memory in a treasure box and keep it safe so that I'd never forget it. Minutes passed as the bath filled up and I probably would’ve fallen asleep if the water was warm and my back would be pressed against anyone else then Hongjoong. His breathing was soft and regular against me and I was sure that he’d fallen asleep, but his voice told me different. He turned off the faucet, the water dangerously close to the edge and asked, embarrassment in his voice, “I never ask you, your name?” I snorted, amused as I realized the same thing and told my name without hesitation, smiling from ear to ear when he tried, and failed, to pronounce it. He asked me about my age, my family, both the one I was born into and the one I’d created with people closest to me, where I grew up. I asked back, curious about his life, about his pain and passion. We got up eventually and dried up, not stopping the endless conversation about everything from where the universe began to what I was going to watch on Netflix that evening. We were so lost in conversation that we didn’t realise the sun painting the sky a white yellow. The noise of knocking, however made us froze and the voice I recognized as Hongjoong’s manager said something in Korean that I couldn't make out, only guessing that he wanted him to wake up and get ready to continue traveling. Hongjoong answered and I could hear how the manager's shoes clambered away down the corridor. I looked out the window, first now realizing that time was up, “It’s time, Jagi” Hongjoong said what I was thinking and gave me a sad smile. I felt my heart broke, landing in the bottom of my stomach like glass shatters on stone floor, violently and piecing sharp and it was as if I got gutted, losing my breath completely as tears swelled over in my eyes, “Don’t cry Jagi, I promised. Only you this time, no one else” I nodded, feeling like I couldn't even swallow back my agony, the lump in my throat aching and I tried to breathe deep, to calm down, embarrassed by my reaction. This wasn’t a breakup; we’d had our moment, but I still felt empty as I took another deep breath and looked up. He took my breath away, standing in front of the window, the young morning sun like a halo surrounding him and I bit my lip as he took two fast steps toward me, embracing me with all his might before locking his lips with mine in one final kiss. I felt like we were in the climax of a movie, holding onto each other like two star struck lovers. He cupped my face, deepening the kiss and I sobbed breathlessly, tasting the salt from tears on my lips as he flushed his body against mine, gasping for air when my hands clasped the hair in the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me. We parted, eventually, panting for air, still holding onto each other. He moved a strand of hair that felled into my face, brows furrowed, wearing an expression of grief and I wondered silently if it was because he was going to miss the sex or if he felt the same electric feeling shooting through him, one that made his heart flutter and butterflies fly around like crazy in his belly, that I felt when I touched him. I decided that I didn't want the answer since both would only make it harder for me to leave. “I will see you again Jagi, I promise” He held out his pinkie and I took it, taking a deep breath and turning around to walk out. “Wait” He exclaimed and walked over to his travel bag, rummaged around for a bit before he pulled out a simple black sweatshirt, “It's cold… I trust you, this my favourite. Keep it… safe. Until next time” I pulled it over my head and the smell of him surrounded me and I couldn’t help myself from sniffing the collar, his perfume present and I nodded, “I will” He gave me a smile and I opened the door, looking both ways to see if the coast was clear, giving Hongjoong one final look before stepping outside. “Bye Jagi” he said, and I swallowed again, “Bye” My voice broke and I looked away, my walking quick as I almost ran towards the elevator. Not being able to stay any longer.

.........

2 months later and I was watching Tv when the notification signal on my phone went off. There was a new retweet from Ateez, originally from MPD, hashtagged #Ateez1stWin. My heart jumped and I watched the snipped of them blowing out the candles on a cake and my heart swelled, proud over them to get the recognition they deserved. My eyes lingered on Hongjoong, the red hair and white clothes made him seem unreal, like a dream. Sometimes I questioned that I ever met him that cold, rainy day in April and seeing him, them, like this, on their way to become famous artists only made the feeling more distant. Gifs of them kissing the cup appeared and someone tweeted "Finally these boys can have their phones back" with an angel emoji and I put away my phone just as it buzzed again, another notification dropping in and I suddenly remembered one of the last conversations we had the morning before my departure. I’d asked why he didn’t have his own phone and he explained, as well as he could, that it was something that all companies did to keep their trainees and rookies in shape and to work collectively towards one goal; A first win. My heart pounded when I opened the notification that was sent from an unknown number:

[15:06] Jagi?

#kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong fanfiction #kim hongjoong x reader #Yay first time posting a fanfic on tumblr #read this please uwu #it would meant the world to me uwu #and I'd love you so much uwu

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ivyveil · 5 years

Text

Feeling Spirited

the one where it's a throwback to when Harry and Y/N were just friends and Y/N's drink helps her forget

A/N: A Continuation of LITP (masterlist here) TW: alcohol

The sky was dark. Had been for weeks now, the clouds clustering together to formulate something thicker than the water making up their essence. A fog was settling, clouding up your thoughts or ability to rationalize any of your actions. Acting with blind impulsiveness didn’t align with the rest of your usual characteristics; even your wildest nights generally took prior planning, but bottles had been a source of solace against the bitterness of confusion, the anxiety of life.

It hadn’t been an issue, not really, because you knew how to handle yourself when drunk, and knew the reaches of your limitations with alcohol. But trouble started brewing when your 5:30 pm started when everyone else began their 9:30 am. And when you thought you were only going for one more drink, but ended up with four glasses in your sink.

The drinks in the morning were simply to calm your nerves, settle the anxiety bubbling in your lungs. And the one at lunch was to offset the chance you would freak out in the middle of your presentation, and the second was because the restaurant offered you a free one.

Was only polite to accept.

It had spiraled into drinks at sporadic times throughout the day, never so many as to make you stumble while walking back to your desk, but certainly enough to only need one or two more when you went home, to slip over the edge. Even looking at a bottle seemed to get your mind in a safe place.

Nestled between the space of your wall and the bedroom bookcase, was a plastic bottle of Smirnoff, half-empty and pitifully groaning as it was tugged out. The books watched silently, probably feeling much superior because they were considered a more refined pastime.

The vodka didn’t seem to give a fuck.

You winced considerably when it popped out of its hiding spot, the familiar panic gripping your bones that you were a teenager again. Hiding alcohol from parents, keeping it in safe spots so any stranger’s eyes would only spot a pristine home, a girl who respected cleanliness and experienced minimal, if any, breakdowns.

The truth was always nestled somewhere deeper, whether it was beneath clothing in drawers, behind bookshelves, in the back of your bathroom cabinet, or underneath your bed. The truth usually tasted like shit, too.

That you were in your 20s and continuing the practice of secret drinking, of playing pretend to appease some authority that wouldn’t give a damn, now that your license said you were of age - it both amused and disgusted you. A restricted sense of adulthood, surely, a lack of freedom to openly be the drunken mess you felt inside. Perhaps it was acceptable to turn a blind eye to it in adolescence, but when you had become a regular at the liquor store, it felt more like a ruse.

Suppose it replaced your blood, you wondered, holding your arm up to the lamplight and inspecting the hint of veins against your skin. Suppose it congealed in the veins, a substrate for your demons to thrive on. Perhaps it could be better than the life of intangible anxiety that crept against each wall, became every shadow, lurked in everyone’s unsuspecting glance.

The nerves were rattling in your teeth, you could feel the invisible bugs of anxiety nipping at your chest and legs. If this was what it took to become calm, maybe it wasn’t so bad. Only a few drinks, more people probably did it than they would confess to.

“It was another shit work day,” you divulged to your cactus, padding back from the bedroom, to the living room, only to shlump against the couch. The cactus only watched, perhaps having come to the conclusion its advice would never be properly considered and it was only a waste of breath. Or photosynthesis. You weren’t sure on the particulars of horticultural language.

“I can’t scratch off how fuckin’ lonely everything feels,” you continued, mindlessly itching at your legs, not needing to be prompted by anything in particular.

Your apartment felt hollow, exasperated by the emptiness in both mind and soul. Curling up on the couch with some bottle had become a ritual, of sorts, yet you weren’t sure what good could come of it.

A shrine of glass and plastic bottles decorated the spaces above the kitchen cabinets, around the corner from where you were presently cuddled. Each one tallied a few night’s of shame, but cumulatively you supposed it was a nice Pinterest trick. Show the nonexistent guests how bougie you were, buying cheap whiskey and vodka. Make them think you had parties all the time, when they were only parties of one.

Your glass was ready, waiting patiently on the table, as you filled it to the brim with the nasty clear liquid.

“I think you’re my true love,” you cocked your head at the glass, taking it in for all its perks and limitations. Regardless, it was still there with you. All that mattered, to an extent.

You couldn’t really stand the shit, had to stick your tongue out like a fucking cat after each shot to bear the taste down your throat. But drinking wasn’t particularly for enjoyment, not these days. It was like a medicine to keep yourself calm; it felt like your whole life revolved around it, because to an extent, it did. But your sanity was on the brink of collapsing, and you were determined to do whatever you could to keep yourself calm.

It was at that moment, with your eyes squished shut and your tongue smacking against the roof of your mouth to distract from the sensation, that your phone buzzed. It was also on the table, next to the stack of marbled coasters and the multitude of TV remotes (why did services give you three remotes for one machine, you still didn’t understand).

I’ve missed you. Wanna come out tonight? x.

Harry and his mates, the group you loved and hated equally, would gather for beers at the Ale Tavern each Thursday evening, a letting-off-steam of sorts before the glorious Friday blessed their workload. Harry had met them through various means, photoshoots, interviews, or just networking events, and had hodge-podged the group together so you two would have a social setting to hang out when he was in town.

Which was, you reminded yourself, mostly because your friends list was lacking at the moment. Most of them, dear to your heart, had received promotions or were traveling around the world for the majority of their work, while you waited at home for nothing to happen. And for nothing to happen again. And maybe once more, for the heck of it.

Some of the group’s members, the ones teetering on the outskirts like leeches, looking for a better opportunity, often treated you like you were off, a bit. A screw loose in the mind, an instability in your essence.

When words came out of your mouth, their eyes would instinctively widen, as if your breath was mixed with unregulated insanity and electric nonsense, so you’d typically keep to yourself. Was the only way to survive the brutal bar nights, with small talk and curious glances at your best friend, who would spend the whole night dodging questions and smiling for photos.

Harry found your silence weird, every time, since you were often the life of the party within his other social groups. You felt his other pals were more genuine, allowing you to exist unapologetically. Plus, small talk was practically banned at those hang-outs, which was another reason you felt you got along well with them.

With your Ale Tavern group, though, Harry had the tendency to nudge you gently, when you were in the corner of the booth stirring a Long Island, and ask you what was wrong. Which would, in turn, increase your unwillingness to be engage with more people -- because why were you well-known for being strange, why couldn’t you simply be a dilution of yourself and pass as OK?

Another buzz, another text.

You poured another shot.

I’m proud of you btw, you’re doing really well. x. :)

Another buzz, another text.

You winced before knocking the shot back, your tongue shooting out on instinct after.

Speaking of, should I come over? If you don’t want to be around drinks…

Giggling to yourself at the unfortunate timing, you swayed a bit on your couch and repositioned your legs to tuck under your ass. One of the green blankets draped over the couch fell to the floor during your transition, and your eyes trained on that spot, waiting to see if it returned.

It didn’t. Gravity was a fucker, only headed one way.

Harry was sweet to care, truly, but if he saw you in this state you knew how it would go. The disappointment would swell in his eyes, he would gently try to pry the bottle out of your hands. Thinking about the situation, even as a possibility, made your fingers curl against the plastic a bit more stubbornly.

“It’s too late, I’m nothin to be proud of,” you informed your phone, frowning as you attempted to scroll up further in your texts with him. There was nothing, though, but it didn’t register until it buzzed once more, and your scrolling resulted in a new text appearing.

I’m just gonna come over. Is that okay? xx.

“Okie dokie,” you mumbled, poking each letter with your index finger until the message was spelled. You sent it.

The cactus groaned in the back, whispering to the lamp, “He is going to be so fucking pissed when he sees her like this.”

Harry was the one who consistently found you passed out at the bar a few streets away from your home. The bartender had found your phone the first time, when Harry was calling (and the ringtone was an obnoxious version of What Makes You Beautiful that you had stumbled upon once, not an important detail but once that made him blush at the time) and had informed Harry that his friend would probably need help leaving, given your state. His number became a regular one to call.

So Harry would help you home, rub over your face gently with a washcloth in a hearty attempt to get off your makeup, and hold your hair back when you came to and felt the drinks for a second time.

Quiet pity and a particular sort of confused hurt would reflect in his eyes, when you had the guts and stability to look at them. He was usually under the impression you were staying home, getting over a cold, busy with work, etc. - and that was why you weren’t able to make it to some mutual friend’s birthday party. After all, that was what you had told him, anyway.

Neither you nor Harry spoke about those nights, when it was the morning after, or even any night after.

You had sent him a text, weeks ago, after guilt had rusted away the stubbornness in your bones. You informed him you were going to try and stay sober for a bit, not liking the way it had made you feel. He was happy about it, it seemed, because the worry was absent from his smile the next time you ran into each other. His hug was a bit tighter, but then again, that was just Harry being Harry.

Your soberness lasted four days. Then you were back, standing in front of the cabinet, with that pathetic acceptance you loathed about yourself. How one aspect of your soul could so resiliently rule the rest, made no sense. You didn’t know how to fight it, though, and so the glasses and bottles came out once more.

You gave your cactus the most awful side-eye you could muster, before extending yourself fully out on the couch. Your fingertips felt like they were touching clouds, clouds intermingled with the deep current of black waters, which meant you had drunk a bit more than you had meant to. An accident, surely, but it didn’t stop you from rolling over on your side (and almost off the couch), huffing at the bottle.

It glugged like a drunk whale trying to drown, pouring out another shot.

Someone was stroking your hair. It felt nice, the rhythm of their fingertips against the curls, stopping at the edges of your forehead, before moving back and gently starting again. The motion was kept on one spot of your head, as well, which was a personal favorite of yours. The movement throughout the whole head was just craziness. Everything had a greater chance of messing up when it came to full-head-hair-strokes. And only one person had heard that drunken rant before (except for your cactus, but that usually kept to itself about your rants. As most cacti do.)

“Yeh up?” someone mumbled, throat thick. They sounded half-asleep, and their fingers slowed as they waited for an answer.

Your head was still smashed against a wave of Smirnoff, too blurred to put two and two together and recognize the need for a response. Anyway, you didn’t appreciate the fingers stopping, so you grunted softly to signal that.

They didn’t continue, this person seemed really fucking set on getting you speaking. Your mouth felt glued, in a thicker, denser sense of the word. Your tongue felt perfectly content resting against the back of your teeth, your lips staying shut.

It was when you became steadily more aware of your surroundings, how it wasn’t a pillow under your head but denim, smooshed against your cheek. How your head was sloped up from the rest of your body, how a blanket was tucked around your person and even your toes were covered by the tassles on the end. You were on someone’s lap, surely, and in the depths of your mind you wondered, with a slight giggle, how scandalous a drunken night alone, in the comforts of your home, could get?

“Who’s asking?” you managed to croak, your fingers reaching outwards from the confines of the cozy blanket, seeking the bottle you knew would’ve been hidden at this point. The question was pointless, you knew him by his cologne. Hell, you knew him from how he stroked your hair, for Christ’s sake.

It was the improbable sense in your gut that hoped it was someone like Chris Evans who had you cuddled up against them. Maybe he was in the midst of robbing your home (Marvel might’ve gone through budget cuts, it happened to the best) before stumbling across your sleeping body. Maybe he found your Chinese takeout, too, because you were awful at remembering to eat leftovers. Although it would be disturbing on most levels of sanity, you could find the loveliness in the situation.

If it were Chris Evans, that is.

“Harry. ‘Ve got long hair, ‘m yeh best friend. Yeh told me I could come ove’’,” Harry teased quietly. It was sort of unsettling, how humor was in the words but his actual voice was void of emotion. He was worried.

You were quiet, unsure if this was a situation in which Harry would take over the conversation if you stayed silent long enough. There weren’t many words you had to say, anyway, your present situation must have been clear enough when he walked in. Plus, his knee was nice to rest your head against. Speaking would just lead to eventual motion, which was already turning your stomach at the thought.

The two of you listened to the distant hum of your freezer kicking into place from the kitchen, the soft rattling of ice cubes tumbling into the tray you had set out. Harry seemed content on waiting for a response, of any type, or maybe to see if you fell asleep. It was entirely possible this entire conversation had happened earlier since Harry’s arrival, and you had passed out again.

If you were to move your head, you felt, something really unfortunate would happen. Like vomiting. Or the world ending. Or having to look Harry in the eyes.

His fingers stopped fully, just resting against your cheek. They were embers, most definitely, and you wondered if you could start a trend for Harry Styles Cheek Burns. Probably wouldn’t catch on. Bit of a health hazard, perhaps. It was difficult to know for sure, because once a thought formulated in your mind it seemed to expand outwards into the galaxy, becoming so diffused in the stars you weren’t able to piece it back together again.

“What’s been goin’ on, Y/N?”

His eyes were on the back of your neck, trailing up to your cheek. It wasn’t unsettling, how you could feel his gaze with your mind – or, at least, it didn’t feel so, at that moment, with him. It was just natural, how you understood him.

He sounded tired. He sounded like he had been working on asking, for a while, and the slight strangled noise that twisted the softness of his voice signaled that you had really fucked up. This wasn’t a joke, anymore, it wasn’t for shits and giggles like it was when you would out-drink his Irish friends at the bar.

All Harry wanted was an answer, a few words so he could just know what to do. Alcohol was an issue with a few other friends, ranging from binge drinkers to alcoholics, and Harry was comfortable enough spending nights dry with them. Essentially, he was comfortable because they told him where their boundaries were, and he could navigate those easily.

Yours, on the other hand, were completely blank. How it felt, to watch you slip out of your daily self, into some shell that no one else seemed to notice, it drove him crazy. How was he supposed to ask why his best friend was leaving, how he could stop it?

There was no way Harry could order you to quit drinking. To be honest, he didn’t know if it was just alcohol, and some subconscious level of his mind was on alert for that phone-call. Another one, with you shlumped in some dim-lit bar with seedy men clinging on the walls with tongues snaking out, sniffing the vulnerability in the air. Or an even worse phone call.

Shudders erupted from the base of his neck, down to his spine. He didn’t even want to think about it.

He didn’t know how to save someone who didn’t want to be saved. Someone who wouldn’t even open up to him about it. He wasn’t sure how to respond with you not talking to him about it. You two were best friends, he told you things his own mother didn’t know about. What could be so bad, you couldn’t tell him?

Entering your home to find you, initially unresponsive, on the couch with a hand dangled against the carpet, a bottle clutched in your fingertips, was nothing short of terrifying. His heart had plummeted through his stomach, his chest felt tight and he wondered, with the worst case scenario always coming first, if you were alive.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck. C’mon Y/N...this isn’t funny, c’mon wake the fuck up - oh my god, c’mon don’t leave me here, wake up.”

Helplessness could only sharpen its hold on his throat with time, his voice growing steadily higher-pitched, when he didn’t know what had happened. After gently (and then roughly) shaking your shoulders, and finding that you weren’t unconscious but simply napping (“I thought yeh were dead, Jesus Y/N, don’t do that again”) and he had chuckled a bit when your eyebrows came together, not quite stirring enough to register his panic, and you had dipped again in the haze of dreams.

The smile on his face seemed maddening, the swelling tears in his vision seeming more appropriate for the situation, but he supposed it was simply a reaction to overwhelming ‘what the fuck’ feelings. This wasn’t one of your stupid jokes, the type where he would laugh without realizing because you had laughed at yourself, which just triggered him to laugh more and – no, this was something beyond the scope of seriousness that he knew how to deal with.

You were fine. You were fine. You were okay. It was just a little too much to drink, the coldness of your hands was just normal. You were fine.

He had lowered himself onto the couch, moving your head to rest on his lap, so his fingertips could feel your pulse as he stroked your hair with the other. Authorities weren’t needed, he had felt, you were just napping. (He had still texted his family doctor, though, just to make sure.)

“Just had a drink o’ two,” you whispered, staring at the wall.

He hummed, his fingers resuming the strokes against your cheek. Harry could tell it calmed you down, how your breath evened out and your eyebrows relaxed. Even as you were coming out of the safe space of intoxicated padding, even when the glimmer of soberness clung to your eyes, he needed to feel you physically there.

His heart hadn’t stopped feeling tight.

“Wanna tell me why?”

“I don’t know.”

The words left you in short gasps, as your fingers curled against the denim of his jeans. Your eyes stayed open, glazed over slightly, somewhat with tears and somewhat with that emptiness that had been ripping you apart lately. How was something so non-existent so prevalent in your existence? And why was it that all you had nowadays, was a bunch of ‘how’s and not much else?

Harry nodded slowly, sniffling quietly. Maybe you didn’t know the words, you couldn’t explain what you were feeling. Maybe he was beginning to understand that he couldn’t understand. That the spaces of your world were compressing in so many angles, it was dizzying the amount, the walls were closing and you were the only one in the room. He couldn’t enter it, he couldn’t pull you out.

“Do yeh need to throw up?”

The familiarity in the question, it pulled from his lips without hesitation or urgency. He was used to this, you realized, guilt flooding your senses and kicking some of the haze away. Harry’s nights with you were, nowadays, commonly associated with toilets and toothbrushes, with him gently prying a bottle out of your hand and listening to your rambles that mainly consisted of the various alcohol brands you could think of.

You nodded, knowing the nausea hadn’t gripped your eyes shut yet, but it would soon.

“’Kay,” he sighed, raising his arms so you could scoot out, “let’s go on, then.”

Once more, it felt too much like a routine. Like a horror movie where you were lost as to how you got here - in a schedule that felt both so normal and incredibly wrong.

He shouldn’t have to do this, he shouldn’t have to be here.

It was all you could think of, a looped tape in your mind, with his broad hands carefully holding onto your hips to help you maintain your balance. (You had started refusing to be carried to the bathroom, after Harry hadn’t made it in time. Wasn’t one of your better nights, that was for sure.)

Harry had even gotten in the loose habit of braiding your hair as you were bent over the toilet, your legs immediately going around and him sitting close behind. It was reminiscent of those massage trains girls used to do at sleepovers, but more ‘adult’ and trashy.

“C’mon, feel like that one was the last?...No, ‘kay, that’s fine, yeh just gotta get it all out, hm?” Once your hair was plaited, his hands would softly rub against your back until you nodded, signaling it was over for the night. He would normally be quiet for it all, having spent the night clubbing with you and attempting to switch out your drinks with waters, but this time was different.

“I want yeh to do what makes yeh happiest.”

You had rested your cheek against the cool lid, not feeling the next wave of nausea. It seemed like you were in the clear, your head’s pounding had substantially lessened, but you didn’t move. Harry had more to say.

“And this, this isn’t it. You’re the best friend I could ask for, Y/N...I can’t watch yeh like this, anymore.”

You sniffled, nodding bleakly and with a shaky hand, you wiped underneath your eyes, reaching up blindly to pull at a few tissues to mop up the mess on your face. Harry’s hands drew to a still, before gently resting on your shoulder.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah? Talk ‘bout it in the mornin...yeh can call off work, and we can figure it out,” he promised. Harry made a mental note to email his therapist for some recommendations for alcohol abuse therapists, just for resource options.

When you had the courage to look behind you, the voice in your mind faintly recognizing you hadn’t looked at him directly that night, the first thing that caught your attention was the tear streaks down his reddened cheeks. His eyes seemed bigger than normal, looking at you cautiously.

Harry gave you an attempt at a smile, the wells only overspilling with the action. He gave a little shrug with his shoulders, as if saying ‘what can be done about it?’ before patting your shoulder twice.

Hastily wiping at his cheeks, Harry slowly rose to his feet, sniffling, all while you were still curled against the toilet. You watched him silently, the disgust that typically followed your night’s routine finally catching up and settling in your bones. If you could crawl out of your skin, you would’ve, no second thought.

Harry held out a hand for you to hold onto, carefully helping you up, waiting as you wearily brushed your teeth and gargled some Listerine, and led you over to your bedroom. No words were exchanged between either of you, but as the covers were pulled back, you pulled your arm out from Harry’s light grip, staring at him.

“You shouldn’t have to do this,” you shook your head, “I’m sorry I’m like this. You shouldn’t have to do this.”

Harry had moved over, settling in on his side of the bed, pushing one of the pillows over to your side (he only liked having one, for some reason). When you spoke though, he immediately started shaking his head.

“Stop it, won’t hear it. I’m here ‘cause I wanna be...if I didn’t wanna be, I wouldn’t. I care about yeh, want you safe.” It was clipped, not unkind, but to the point.

You didn’t respond, letting the night cover over the conversation like a drape, a thick blanket taking over your eyelids. Nestling under the covers, feeling the warmth of another human being to your left...hearing the rustling of the covers as Harry got comfortable beneath them…

You felt the cover lift from your body as Harry moved underneath it, his arm securing around your waist and pulling you comfortably closer to his chest. His head tucked against your shoulder, his lips pressed familiarly against your back. You smelled like alcohol, as if it stained your pores, but he didn’t mind too much. Just liked knowing where you were, that you were safe.

“Harry?”

Words felt different in the complete dark, more confessional. It was safer, to say these sorts of things. As if they could be more easily written off, than it spoken during the day. Your mind was shutting down for the night, you could see the swirling storms of dreams out against the grey horizon. But you just needed to say...

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For not leaving me.”

“’Course. ’M forever yours,” he mumbled, holding you tighter.

“Goodnight, Haz.”

“Night, love.”

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A/N: Check the masterlist of LITP here, and let me know your thoughts if you would like!

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #archive of our own #mine #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic

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cottagethings · 5 years

Text

self-quarantine activities

1. Complete a puzzle: The more pieces the better! Feeling extra saucy? Take on a Rubik's Cube. More of a word person? Crossword puzzle!

2. Start a journal or blog. Sure, it can be about the coronavirus, but it could also be about a specific interest from chess to cheese.

3. If it won't bother your neighbors: Dust off that old instrument and practice.

4. Text all your exes just in case you have one more thing you wanted to get off your chest.

5. Write poetry. Perhaps you can craft a haiku for Mother's Day, or something without a specific structure. Just try it!

6. Watch all the really long movies you’ve avoided until now.

7. Download Duolingo, or a similar app, and teach yourself a foreign language.

8. Finally read “Infinite Jest,” “Les Miserables” or even “The Stand.” Go all in and read “Ulysses.” You got this.

9. Meditate. Try lying down with your eyes closed, palms up and while focusing on your breath. Or spend 20 minutes sitting crosslegged and repeat a soothing word to yourself in your head. (The latter is more like transcendental meditation.)

10. Face masks, moisturizer, oh my! Treat yourself to a 10-step skin care routine you don’t have time for during a normal work week.

11. Look at pictures of puppies.

12. Put together the most attractive charcuterie board possible, but you can only use foods you already have in your fridge and cupboard.

13. Take note from "Tangled" star Rapunzel, who has an entire song about how she's spent her days alone in a castle. Activities included in her ditty: Ventriloquy, candle-making, papier-mâché and adding a new painting to her gallery.

14. Write actual letters to family and friends. After that? Write thank-you notes to service people who you remember went out of their way for you.

15. Learn calligraphy. YouTube can help.

16. Finally read the rules to those long and intense board games you've never played with the family. Encourage the family to play.

17. Put on a soap opera. Mute the sound. Create your own dialogue.

18. Have a space in your home where all of the tupperware goes? Organize it and actually match lids to containers.

19. Try on all your clothes and determine whether they “spark joy” á la Marie Kondo.

20. Better yet, go through this process with your junk drawer and supply shelves.

21. Have a roommate meeting about how to be more considerate of one other, especially while you will likely be spending more time together. Bring baked goods.

22. Bake those goods.

23. Watch the films that won Oscars for best picture.

24. Watch films that won Independent Spirit Awards for best picture.

25. Watch films that critics say should have won those aforementioned awards.

26. Read all the New Yorker issues piled on your desk.

27. Will Tom Hanks into recovery from coronavirus by watching every Tom Hanks movie chronologically.

28. Knit or crochet.

29. Use Skype, FaceTime, Google Hangouts or Marco Polo to video chat with your long-distance friends.

30. Try out at-home aerobics or yoga videos. Consider downloading a fitness app with curated workout playlists.

31. Look at yourself in the mirror. Attempt a self portrait with pencil and paper.

32. Take a bubble bath (bonus: Add a glass of wine).

33. Make a classic cocktail, from negronis to Manhattans and aperol spritzes. Don't forget the garnish.

34. Coloring books: They’re not just for kids.

35. Take time to reflect: What have you accomplished in the last year? What goals are you setting for yourself in the next year?

36. Write a short story or get started on that novel.

37. Actually try to reproduce something you see on Pinterest. Probably fail. Try again.

38. Clear out the family room and camp indoors with all blankets, popcorn and scary movies.

39. Finally get around to fixing that broken door knob and loose tile or cleaning scuffed up walls.

40. Acquire a foam roller and treat yourself to some physical therapy.

41. Pretend you're 13 years old and fold a square piece of paper into a fortune teller you put your thumbs and pointer fingers into. Proceed to tell fortunes.

42. Learn how to braid (fishtail, French, etc.) via YouTube tutorial..

43. Throw out all your too-old makeup and products. (Tip: most liquid products have a small symbol on them noting expirations, usually six months to a year. This includes sunscreen!)

44. Interview your grandparents (over the phone, of course) and save the audio. Can you create an audio story or book with that file?

45. Go through your camera roll, pick your favorite pics from the past year and make a photo book or order framed versions online.

46. Go on a health kick and learn how to cook new recipes with ingredients you may not be using already, from miso to tahini.

47. Create a Google document of shows or movies you’re watching and share it among family and friends.

48. Make a list of things for which you are grateful.

49. Have your own wine tasting of whatever bottles you have at home. Make up stories about the journey of the grapes to your mouth.

50. Work on your financial planning, such as exploring whether to refinance your loan or ways to save more money.

51. Perfect grandma’s bolognese recipe.

52. Make coffee, but this time study how many beans you use, which types, how hot the water is, how long it brews and whether any of that makes a difference.

53. Buy gift cards from your favorite local businesses to help keep them in business while we quarantine.

54. Watch “Frozen 2,’ which went up early on Disney Plus. Another new movie on the streaming service: "Stargirl."

55. Write a book with your family. Pick a character and each member writes a chapter about their adventures. Read aloud to each other.

56. No March Madness? Have a Scrabble tournament. Or Bananagrams. Pictionary, anyone?

57. Get into baking with "The Great British Baking Show," but your technical challenge is baking something with the ingredients you have on hand (that you didn't already use in the charcuterie board).

58. Indoor scavenger hunt.

59. Alternate reading the Harry Potter series with your kids and cap each one off with the movie.

60. Dye your hair a new color. No one else needs to see it if you don't like it.

61. Read Robert Jordan’s 14-book “Wheel of Time” series before it streams on Amazon starring Rosamund Pike.

62. Write a play starring your loved ones. Perform it via a video call app.

63. Go viral in the good way by making a quarantine-themed TikTok.

64. Rearrange your sock drawer. Really.

65. Stop procrastinating and do your income taxes.

66. Make lists of all the museums, sporting events and concerts you want to visit when they finally reopen.

67. Get into comics with digital subscriptions on your tablet, like Marvel Unlimited.

68. Rearrange your furniture to make it seem like your home is a totally different space.

69. Practice shuffling playing cards like a Poker dealer. Be ready for employment opportunities once all casinos open back up.

70. Organize your spice rack alphabetically or get crazy and do it by cuisine.

71. Teach your dog to shake. Hand sanitizer optional.

72. Memorize the periodic table. You never know when that will come in handy.

73. Order and put together some IKEA furniture. Time yourself.

74. Get a free trial of a streaming service and binge-watch as much as you can before it expires.

75. Apply for a new job. You have remote work experience now.

76. Learn a new style of dance via YouTube, from bellydancing to breaking.

77. Update or write your will and organize your affairs. Yes, it sounds melodramatic and morbid but let’s face it: This is a task many of us avoid because we never have the time. Now we do.

78.The parades have been canceled but you can still make corned beef and cabbage for St. Patrick’s Day.

79. Bring out the Legos. Build your house inside of your house.

80. Watch the "Star Wars" movies in this and only this order: Rogue One-IV-V-II-III-Solo-VI-VII-VIII-IX.

81. Two words: Coronavirus beard! Grow it, moisturize it, comb it, love it.

82. Learn the words to "Tung Twista." Get them so ingrained in your brain that you can rap them as fast as Twista can. Impress everyone.

83. Been meaning to get some new glasses? Try on new frames virtually on sites like GlassesUSA.com.

84. Attempt things with your non-dominant hand, from writing to brushing your teeth. Prepare to be frustrated.

85. How many words per minute can you type? See if you can get speedier by taking a typing course.

86. Prepare to verbally duel a bully who wants to discuss the evolution of the market economy in the Southern colonies, by memorizing Matt Damon's "Good Will Hunting" speech.

87. Learn origami. Make cranes for your loved ones.

88. Stretch. Work on your flexibility. It's possible to get the splits back, right?

89. Try to speak in pig Latin. Or, "ig-pay, atin-Lay."

90. Talk to your plants. How are they doing? Make sure they are getting the amount of sunlight they should be. Check their soil. Water if necessary.

91. Deep condition your hair and put paraffin wax on your hands. Enjoy your soft hair and nails.

92. Consider donating money to food banks to help families struggling to get meals.

93. Write a song. If you want to make it about your time inside and put it to the tune of "My Sharona" and replace "Sharona" with "Corona," do what you have to do.

94. Study the art of beatboxing.

95. Try moving in super-slow motion. It's OK to laugh at regular speed.

96. You know how there are dozens of ways to wear a scarf, but you only wear it the one way? Learn the other ways.

97. Learn Old English words. Pepper them into your conversation. Wherefore not?

98. Try on a new shade of lipstick. See how long it takes your partner to notice it.

99. Take deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth.

100. Sleep. Get lots of it.

#corona #coronavirus #quarantine #self care #activity #freetime #dosomethingforyourself

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lakesandquarries · 5 years

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from the perfect start (to the finish line)

Aubrey and Ned, from beginning to end.

Massive spoilers for TAZ Amnesty episode 28.

title from “youth” by daughter.

Read on AO3 or under the cut!

The day after Aubrey officially moves in to Amnesty Lodge, Ned shows up. He comes armed with a box of Halloween decorations, a bag of candy, and a wide grin.

“I found some extra decorations lying around,” is what he tells her, but it quickly becomes clear these were carefully chosen for her.

Most people might have found the red lace curtains and pumpkin string lights and light up ghost tacky, but it makes her room feel more like home. He helps her unpack, too, something she hasn’t bothered to do in years. Staying still feels unreal, almost unnatural. Even now, some small part of her is ready to leave any second.

Ned seems to recognize the impulse. “So, how is it, living here? You’ve been on the move for the last few years, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, been doing shows all over. I like moving around. It’s cool, to get to see new places.”

“I understand the feeling. I’ve done my fair share of traveling too. But there is something to be said for a more….sedentary lifestyle.”

“Yeah. It’ll take some getting used to, though.”

The last thing she puts up is a photo in a relatively plain frame, of a woman with dark brown hair and bright brown eyes, her dark skin a perfect match to Aubrey’s.

“Family member?” Ned asks, nodding at the photo.

“My mom. She’s gone, now,” Aubrey explains. “Don’t have much family left anymore.” Ned looks a little pale, awkward with the sudden change of topic, and Aubrey nearly laughs at him. He’s quiet for a while, working out what to say.

“You have family here,” is what he settles on.

---

Painting Ned’s face is not how Aubrey expected to spend her Saturday night, but she doesn’t have much of a desire to complain. As the only person Ned knew with experience wearing makeup, he’d enlisted her to try and do his. This episode of Saturday Night Dead is a old vampire movie, so she’s trying to make him look pale and eerie.

“You know, vampires don’t really look like this,” she says as she covers his face with more white Snazaroo.

“Well, we know that. But the general populace does not.”

“True. But shouldn’t we trying to fix those kinds of stereotypes?”

Ned shrugs. “I think our job is just to kill the bad guys.”

Aubrey huffs. “Well, excuse me for thinking proactively.”

Ned chuckles. “C’mon, we don’t need to worry about anything like that for a while. Right now, our job is to relax and have fun.”

“And paint your face white.”

“Is that not the epitome of fun?” Ned smiles at her, an odd look with the paint. “That being said, you may need to hurry this up. We go live in….about 20 minutes.”

“Beauty takes time,” Aubrey says, but she decides to stop fussing with the paint and move on. It’s a shame it’s such a simple look; Ned is a wonderful canvas. He doesn’t squirm or complain, simply sits quietly and lets Aubrey do her work. “You should let me do real makeup on you sometime.”

“Is this not real makeup?” Ned asks, opening one eye.

“I mean like, let me do some kind of Look. Eyeshadow, highlighter, lipstick, the whole nine yards. I think you could rock it.”

Ned smiles at her. “Well, if you think I could pull it off...I trust your judgement. We’ll have to do that sometime.”

---

Aubrey’s the first one to catch Ned limping. Duck doesn’t have the best grasp of what normal human abilities are, but Aubrey is very familiar with the limitations of the human body.

It’s not until she finds a cane in the back of the newly painted Crytonomica van that she realizes what’s up.

“Hey Ned, this yours?” she asks, pulling it out. She was supposed to just be helping with Saturday Night Dead, as she does whenever she can, but this requires further investigation.

Ned looks at the cane disdainfully. “The doctors gave it to me, after the….incident at Leo’s.”

“You can talk about it, Ned.” She knows everyone’s been avoiding talking about the Pizza Hut Incident around her, too worried for her fragile emotional state to dare mention it. “I can handle it.”

Ned chuckles awkwardly. “It’s not that, it’s... I’m the one who can’t handle it, really.”

“Are you supposed to be using this cane, Ned?”

“Well the doctor told me to, but, what does he know? I’m fine, friend Aubrey, just dandy. Nothing wrong at all!”

“You sound like Duck right now,” she says, folding her arms.

“Is that your way of calling me a bad liar?”

“Yes. Now tell me the truth.”

Ned sighs. “It’s embarrassing, having to use a cane like that. I’m not old enough to be needing one yet.”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about using aids like that. I’m on medication, is that embarrassing?”

“Well...no...but-“

“You could have died, doing what you did. You saved people’s lives. There’s nothing embarrassing about getting hurt saving lives, or about needing help.”

Ned huffs. “When you put it like that I sound completely ridiculous.”

“That’s because you are. But I think I know of a way to make the cane at least a little more fun to use.”

She insists he meet her at Amnesty Lodge tomorrow, and the next morning she presents her gift - his cane, painted with bright flames creeping up it.

“Now it looks cool, and you have to use it or I’ll be sad.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we,” Ned says.

He presents it flamboyantly on Saturday Night Dead, a gift from the Lady Flame herself, a powerful artifact imbued with magical properties.

—

The letter is singed where she touches it, bad enough that she’s tempted to ask someone to read it to her, but she decides against it. This is between her and Ned.

Dear Aubrey, she reads, and bursts into tears.

Duck finds her sobbing on the floor twenty minutes later, the letter a safe distance away from her. Her hands are balled into fists, steam rising off them as she tries to keep her entire body from igniting. Duck makes the mistake of placing a hand on her shoulder and pulls away burnt.

“Aubrey,” he says, kneeling down next to her. “You found your letter?”

“Mhm,” she says, wiping at her eyes frantically. Duck sighs.

“He called me a hero in mine. Said he didn’t have what it takes to be a real hero.”

“He was a hero,” Aubrey says hoarsely.

“Yeah.”

“He - he wrote his real name,” Aubrey says, trying to swallow the tears that threaten to cut off her words. “He told me to hate him. Duck, he died -” she chokes on the word, hiccuping halfway through it - “he died thinking I hated him. He died wanting me to hate him. And now - I can never -” her words dissolve.

Duck scoots closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder, which luckily has cooled by now. “He knew you cared. He probably wrote that in there ‘cause he knew you’d forgive him.”

“He’s more of a hero than anyone I’ve ever met,” Aubrey says, then bites her lip. “I mean - not that you’re not, I just -”

“Nah, you’re right. I didn’t take a bullet for anyone. But look, Aubrey, you can’t blame yourself. That’s not what he’d want.”

“But -”

“Nope, no buts. C’mon, he wouldn’t want you beating yourself up like this.”

“Yeah, well, I want him back, but we can’t always get what we want, can we?”

“This ain’t your fault. He knew you cared about him. You should’ve seen how he talked about you.”

Aubrey lifts her head slightly, looking at Duck. He gives her a tired, worn smile.

“He bragged 'bout you like you were his kid, practically.”

“I felt like I was, sometimes.” Duck leans his head against the wall, thoughtfully, then looks back at Aubrey.

“We gotta….preserve his memory, in some way. Kirby’s cool and all, but….well, he’s not much of a showman.”

Aubrey smiles, a little broken but better than nothing. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m saying….well, I’ve been thinking, and Ned wouldn’t want us wallowing around, right? I say we do a special episode of Saturday Night Dead. Saturday Night Ned, if you will.”

“I think I’d like that.” She’s never been to a funeral, but Aubrey has helped with nearly every episode of Saturday Night Dead. This, at least, she can do.

—

It feels wrong, being at the Cryptonomica without Ned, but Aubrey pushes through the grief and puts on a show. There’s no movie, this time. Instead, she and Kirby and Duck and any other people they can get tell stories about the enigmatic figure that was Ned “Insert Name Here” Chicane.

Aubrey digs up videos she took, the time she secretly filmed Ned practicing a monologue and a really stupid argument he had with Duck about whether pineapple goes on pizza and a short video of him passed out in the lobby of Amnesty Lodge, a blanket draped around his shoulders and Dr Harris Bonkers PhD in his lap. Kirby shares some of his own, videos of Ned singing show tunes while assembling the newest Cryptonomica exhibit, glaring at the camera when he realizes it’s filming. Duck has no footage, but he does have some copies of tickets he gave Ned for increasingly bizarre antics over the years. Aubrey’s favourite is his 12 tickets for illegally feeding animals - apparently Ned made friends with a raccoon at one point.

The ache in her chest never goes away completely, but it softens. It starts to become something she can live with.

The show wraps up after two hours, but Aubrey has one last speech.

“To everyone who tuned in today, who came by to share their own stories, thank you. I know not everyone liked the Cryptonomica, or even Ned himself, but the outpouring of love has been beautiful to witness. Thank you, Kepler.” She grabs Ned’s cane, smiling despite everything. “Let’s give it up for Ned “Brave” Chicane.”

If she listens carefully, she can almost hear the applause.

#taz #taz amnesty #taz amnesty spoilers #aubrey little #ned chicane #i'm still so fucking upset this is my way of coping #cora writes #adventures of cora

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Undone, Chapter 14 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 14 of UNDONE, our slow burn Bitney lesbian AU. Here’s a link to the previous chapters.

Summary: Bianca escapes to a gig in Atlanta at the perfect time, as things are getting real tense with Jared.

Thank you to everyone who beta’d while I changed around the plot 40 times: @kitschypixel @sheofthethrone @jillybean2314 @theartificialdane

TW: This story deals with themes of emotional abuse, and since that can be subtle, we’re going to keep a general TW on all of the chapters.

***

Bianca falls into bed beside Jared, sighing. Her buzz from dinner has unfortunately worn off and now she just feels tired. She glances over at Jared, who seems to be ignoring her, tapping furiously at his phone, brow furrowed.

She picks up her own phone, scrolling absentmindedly through Instagram. She pauses on Courtney’s latest picture: she’s in Sydney, at the Mardi Gras parade, surrounded by throngs of colorful revelers, covered in glitter, rainbow streaks in her hair. Her expression is jubilant, ecstatic.

Bianca likes the photo, begins to slowly type out a comment. “You look like...” her fingers hover over the keys, stomach twisting. Joy. Perfection. Everything I have ever wanted.

“What are you lookin’ at?” Jared asks, turning onto his side.

"Oh, um, my friend is in Sydney for Mardi Gras. It looks crazy,” Bianca answers.

“That Australian girl from the show? The lesbian?"

"Uh, yeah." Bianca is a little surprised that Jared made the connection. But, she supposes that she has mentioned Courtney to him a few times before. She’s certainly not trying to hide anything.

Jared moves a little closer, asking, “What does she look like? Is she cute?" He tries to grab her phone and she jumps away.

“Stop!”

Jared laughs, now enjoying the struggle.

"Why won't you let me see her?!"

"I'm in the middle of writing a comment!"

“So what?! Give me the phone!"

Bianca quickly deletes what she was writing, cheeks burning with...something. She’s not sure what, but she feels a little hot and wonders if maybe the alcohol from earlier hasn’t quite worn off like she thought. She gulps, handing over the phone and watching his face carefully.

"Daaaaamn..." Jared lets out a low whistle, clicking on Courtney’s username and checking out her other recent pictures. “Are you sure she’s a lesbian?”

“Uh, yeah. Pretty sure,” Bianca answers, slightly irritated.

“Huh. She doesn’t look like one. She looks...sexy.”

Bianca isn’t sure why that comment annoys her so much, but she doesn’t like the expression on his face as he scrolls through the pictures. It almost feels like he’s stealing something from her. When he double-taps a picture from last autumn, Bianca quickly snatches the phone back.

"What are you doing?!" she shrieks, and he begins to laugh.

"I just liked a picture, what?"

“But...but we're friends, and that was like, a thot picture of her in a bathing suit, from like months ago, you can't-oh my god..."

“Who cares?"

Bianca sighs and patiently asks, “If Willam posted a picture of his ass, would you like it?”

“Uh...if he looked like her, yeah.”

“Way to miss the point.”

“Okay, so just unlike it then. Or tell her it was me.”

Bianca stares at him for a moment before exclaiming, “That’s even worse!”

“B…” A sly smile spreads across Jared’s face. He leans in and murmurs, “Do you have a crush on this girl?” He presses a kiss to her neck.

“Stop it,” Bianca says, pulling away. “Of course not.”

“Yeah, you do,” he insists, arms sliding back around her. “You naughty girl.”

“I don’t-”

“It's okay, baby, it's hot.” Jared nuzzles her ear, hard dick against her hip. “My bad girl. Should I punish you?”

“Jared-”

“Remember that girl junior year? The redhead?”

Bianca’s stomach is tight, her breath shallow. Another protest is on the tip of her tongue, but seeing his sleepy-eyed leer, she relents, letting him pin her wrists over her head, climb on top of her.

“Don’t be ashamed, babe. I told you, it’s hot,” he says, smirking down at her.

Bianca nods, biting her lip. She supposes that she should be grateful. Not all husbands would be this open-minded. This forgiving.

“I mean, if it was a guy, I’d have to kill him. But…” Jared laughs, a hollow laugh that makes Bianca shiver. “But this? I’m into it.”

Bianca stares up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. Where the fuck did those come from? She brushes them away angrily, closing her eyes, while he slides down her pajama bottoms.

***

Courtney flops down onto her sofa, finally home after almost 18 hours of traveling. She breathes a sigh of relief and picks up her phone. Her first message sounds way too needy, and she quickly deletes it, trying to think of a way to say what she wants without being such an obvious jet-lagged emotional mess.

COURTNEY: I really miss the way you manhandle my seams <3

BIANCA: lol, you��re an idiot <3

COURTNEY: When do you leave for Atlanta?

BIANCA: Saturday.

COURTNEY: Shit. Maybe we can do lunch sometime this week?

BIANCA: I wish. I’m so fucking slammed with prep. I don’t even know when I’m gonna pack.

Courtney lets her head fall backwards, deflating a little. She’s been getting the sense that Bianca was pulling away, although sometimes it’s hard to tell if it’s real or just all in her head. The idea of waiting months before seeing her again is a crushing blow, but she doesn’t want to make her feel bad.

COURTNEY: Ok. I’ll let you get back to it then. Have a safe trip. <3

***

Bianca stares out the window at the puffy white clouds, a sense of relief making her feel more relaxed than she remembers being in...years, maybe. Maybe the most relaxed she’d ever been sober.

She hates to admit how tense things have been with Jared lately. But after she’d kissed him goodbye and gotten into the uber, it was as if every cell in her body exhaled.

Or, maybe it’s just the excitement of finally being a department head, for a beautiful little indie film set in the 1960s. Finally having a project where her creative vision would be fully realized, the director and producer basically giving her carte blanche because they loved her preliminary sketches so much. And of course, there’s the fact that she’ll be living in the same city as Latrice for the first time since high school. That must be it.

She smiles, bending down to drop a few treats into the dogs’ travel bag.

***

Bianca yanks open the door of the little sidewalk cafe and rushes over to Latrice - her oldest friend, the person who knows her best in the world. She throws herself into Latrice’s arms, the taller woman letting out a deep laugh as she embraces her tightly, saying, “I missed you, too, gorgeous.”

Once they’re seated, Latrice pushes a glass of sweet tea over to Bianca.

“Alright. Give me the latest. What’s going on? How’s your team? How’s Prince Charming coping with you being gone?”

“The crew’s great, I’m really excited about this show. And...he’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure about that?” Latrice asks with a chuckle. “Remember when we went to Barbados and he called you 20 times a day? That boy can barely breathe without you.”

“Well, he’s busy too,” Bianca says, feeling just a little defensive. Jared had spent her last 2 weeks in LA going on and on about what a sacrifice he was making, how hard her absence was going to be for him, how grateful she should be that he was so understanding. By the end, she had conceded every point out of pure exhaustion.

“Sure, I know. But...it’s hard to make a baby long distance. Is he gonna come visit for Game Day?”

Bianca forces a laugh.

“No, I don’t think so. Actually, I haven’t even been tracking for a couple months.”

“Really? Just letting Jesus take the wheel?”

“Yeah. Well…I mean, it’s been such a stressful process. And the last doctor I saw basically told me that I was like...trying too hard. And also...” Bianca trails off, looking down. She hasn’t admitted the next part out loud yet. Maybe she hasn’t even admitted it to herself.

Latrice covers Bianca’s hand with her own.

“Yeah?”

“I dunno. I guess…” Bianca looks away. “I’ve been having some doubts about whether we’re even meant to...have kids. What if it hasn’t happened for a reason?”

“B…” Latrice pauses, searching for the best way to respond.

“...well, isn’t it possible? Que sera sera and all that shit.”

“You know, someday, you’re gonna give yourself a break from all this neurotic self torture. And that will be a beautiful day,” Latrice says.

“You’re right.” Bianca clears her throat. “I just need to chill. Obviously. But...enough about my bullshit. Tell me about the wedding plans!”

***

Work is slow for Courtney in the spring, so she asks her old modeling agents to toss her some commercial work. When she learns about the first job they booked for her, she doesn’t know whether to be horrified or proud. It’s a pretty big print ad campaign, for Johnson & Johnson. She’s playing a mother, lovingly placing a BandAid on her baby. When Bianca learns of the whole thing via text, she’s utterly amused.

BIANCA: BAHAHAHAHAHA

BIANCA: Should I call you Mommy now?

COURTNEY: If that’s what you’re into ;)

BIANCA: omg

COURTNEY: It’s cool, I don’t kink shame

BIANCA: SHUT UP OMG

Later in the week, she texts Bianca from the set to give her an update, curled in a chair in the greenroom.

COURTNEY: OK so I’m at this shoot, and they tell me they want me to show some “respectable mum cleavage” in the shot when I lean over to put the band-aid on the kid. I LOL’d IRL, because hello? Wrong girl.

BIANCA: lol awwww. Can’t relate.

COURTNEY: Thanks, I’m WELL aware

BIANCA: ;)

COURTNEY: So their brilliant solution was to tape me into this wonderbra/bustier thing, and to further emphasize my (lack of) tits, they are contouring and highlighting the fuck out of my chest. I feel like a goddamn drag queen.

BIANCA: HAHA, you would be the worst drag queen. Do you even own makeup?

COURTNEY: MEANWHILE this damn baby is just sitting over in the corner drooling. He better not be making more than me.

BIANCA: He probably is. Needed: Caucasian baby, must not roll eyes when co-star waxes poetic about vegan pudding for 30 minutes.

COURTNEY: IF YOU ARE IMPLYING THAT THE VEGGIE GRILL PUDDING ISNT WORTHY OF POETRY THEN YOURE A DEMON

BIANCA: Calm down, crazy

COURTNEY: Omg they just applied the fake wound to him and it’s a little horrible looking. I’m actually worried that I might not put this band-aid on him properly. What if he bleeds out and dies? I don’t think I’m ready for motherhood. I CANT TAKE THIS PRESSURE

BIANCA: You’re gonna be fine. ;P

COURTNEY: Okay he made it. Phew.

BIANCA: I was on pins and needles.

It’s like an addiction, this need to share everything with Bianca. To make her laugh, to get her feedback, to know all of the mundane details of her day. To connect, as often as possible. Courtney knows that she’s in way over her head, but she doesn’t care. She just wants more.

***

Bianca doubles over laughing as Chris recounts a story of trying to take Latrice white water rafting. Latrice tries to chime in and dispute some of his facts, but she’s laughing too hard to be very effective.

“Honestly Chris. What on earth made you think that was a good idea?!” Bianca asks him, wiping tears from her eyes. She takes a sip of her wine and helps them load plates into the dishwasher.

“I...I don’t know. Seemed like an adventure?” Chris says with a sheepish grin. He places a newly washed pan in the drying rack.

“Lesson learned!” Latrice pipes up, sliding the leftovers into the fridge. “Now go away so we can talk about your dick.”

“You could just say that you wanna chill with your friend,” Chris laughs, kissing her on the cheek as he sails out the door.

Latrice slings an arm over Bianca’s shoulder and guides her into the living room.

“I’m really glad that I’m getting to know Chris better,” Bianca says, settling onto the sofa. “He’s just so great.”

“He is. I’m very lucky.”

“Well, you’re both lucky.” She flashes a grin and Latrice smiles back.

“How about you? How are you doing?”

“Good! Yeah, the show is humming along, the crew is better than I thought, it’s been…” Bianca shrugs, letting out a contented sigh. “It’s been amazing.”

“And...how’s Prince Charming? Still surviving without you?”

“He’s okay. Actually...” Bianca bites her lip nervously. “To be honest, it’s been kind of wonderful to be on my own. I haven’t really thought about him that much.”

Latrice raises an eyebrow.

“I know, it’s awful, right? I’m a terrible wife.”

“Of course not. Everyone needs some alone time, B. But...is it more than that?”

“No!” Bianca exclaims, a little too vehemently, then asks, “...Why?”

“You just seem a little tense every time I mention him.”

“Yeah, I don’t know.” Bianca looks down, fighting the urge to guzzle her entire glass of wine in one gulp.

“Are things okay with you guys? You know, it’s okay to have issues. Every couple goes through ups and downs. You don’t have to be perfect all the time-”

“I know that!” Bianca sighs. “Anyway, it’s nothing to do with him. Or…”

“I’m listening.”

“I think I may have...um...fallen for someone else.”

“You did what now?” Latrice sits back, eyebrow raised in judgment.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Bianca says, eyes downcast. “I haven’t done anything.”

“I just wonder how many years this boy has to jump through hoops before you see how good he is to you,” Latrice sighs.

Bianca swallows.

“I mean, come on, B. Is there really someone better out there? Or is this just more of the same commitment-phobic stuff that you’ve been putting him through since college?”

“Stop. Forget it. I’m sure this time away will...make me realize how much I miss him, and-”

“I just don’t know why you torture yourself. And him. He worships you. Why can’t you enjoy it? And who is this other person? Your typical pretty boy type?” Latrice asks.

“She’s-”

“Oh, so we’re back to girls, eh?” Latrice teases. “That’s fun.”

“It’s really annoying when you pretend not to know how bisexuality works,” Bianca informs her.

“Sorry, sorry,” Latrice rolls her eyes. “And does she grovel at your feet, like your husband?” The disapproval drips from her tone.

“No...she...it’s a totally different situation.” Bianca presses her lips together. She’s trying not to squirm, not to appear too gleeful, but thinking about Courtney always causes her to get a little giddy.

“Alright, go ahead. I can tell you’re dying to tell me all about her. Just remember, Jesus is listening.”

“Noted,” Bianca says, then leans forward, lowering her voice for some reason. Maybe to make things a little harder for Jesus to hear. “She’s...like...unbelievably gorgeous...but that’s not even the best thing about her. I mean, she’s sexy, but also so smart, and fun, and like...she has this charming, effervescent personality...I’m so fucked.”

“Yeah, sounds like it,” Latrice sighs. “Well...I mean, how deep are these feelings? Is it like, a crush, or…?”

“I think it started out that way,” Bianca admits. “Things are just like...I feel more myself when I’m with her. It’s like being with you.”

“Are you hitting on me now?”

“No,” Bianca laughs. “I just mean that like...I don’t know, the attraction is always there, right? But also, we’re friends.”

“You’re not friends with Jared?”

“It’s just...different with him. It’s more tense. More...complicated.”

“Couldn’t that just be a case of...you know, the grass is always greener on the other side?”

“It could be…” Bianca pauses thoughtfully, sipping her wine.

“Because you know, every relationship is complicated. But there’s a reason that you guys are still together, right? I mean, he suffered through that endless engagement. That means something.”

“It does. But Courtney-that’s her name, by the way.”

“Courtney,” Latrice mimics in a Valley-girl accent, making Bianca laugh a little. “Ugh. You would fall for a Courtney.”

Bianca smirks, then sighs. “Well, for starters, she doesn’t make me feel like my career is a pointless waste of time…”

Latrice opens her mouth, but then stops. It had been a throwaway comment, but something about it made her pause. For years, all Latrice heard about was how much Jared worshipped Bianca. His endless love and affection and understanding. The idea of him thinking that anything she does is a ‘pointless waste of time’ is...incongruous in a way that makes a giant red flag flash for Latrice. She tilts her head, careful to pay extra attention to what Bianca is saying, and particularly the way she’s fidgeting, the anxious look in her eyes.

“...and, I guess...spending time with her made me realize how often I’m walking on pins and needles around Jared. He’s so moody, and I...I thought it was me. You know, because I can be...”

Latrice frowns.

“You can be what?”

“I mean, I push people’s buttons. I’m not sensitive, and I make people upset. You know, you’ve seen it,” Bianca sighs.

“What are you talking about, B?”

“Well, like, remember in high school, with Alyssa?” Bianca begins tearing up the napkin in her hands.

“Yeah, I remember Alyssa, but what-”

“You know, I would say the wrong thing, trying to be funny or whatever, and she’d like, lose it. Remember? I was always making her cry, or-”

“Bianca, Alyssa was crazy. Like, legit bonkers. That wasn’t your fault, at all.” Latrice reaches out to grasp her hand.

“But I made it worse. I mean, I certainly didn’t help,” Bianca insists.

“Okay, sure. Because you were 17 years old. Not a mental health care professional. It still wasn’t your fault.”

Bianca looks down, and Latrice swallows.

“What does this have to do with Jared, though? Does he...I mean, is he as volatile as her? Because-”

“No, of course not.”

“So…”

Bianca takes a deep breath.

“He just...sometimes...gets...upset, and angry. Really angry, and I…it makes me...” Bianca wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “It’s unsettling, like I don’t know...when the rug’s gonna be yanked out from under my feet, and…and I don’t know if it would be right to bring a child into that...”

Latrice moves closer to her on the sofa, something clicking in her mind and filling her with fear and guilt. She feels like the worst friend in the world for not seeing it, for believing the stories, for failing to probe deeper before now. She squeezes Bianca’s hand a little, before asking softly, “B...has he ever hurt you?”

“No! God, no. Forget it, this is...I’m obviously just being dramatic, you know, so-”

“But he makes you feel...scared?”

“Not scared, exactly. Just...uneasy. Sometimes. I’m blowing this totally out of proportion. Probably just, like, to ease my own guilt about being a shitty wife who pisses him off and then fantasizes about my coworker like a dumb fucking-”

“Okay! Okay, so, let’s say, for a second, that you’re not blowing things out of proportion.”

“But I am. I mean you thought I was trying to say that he-” Bianca’s breath hitches. “He would never-”

“Okay.” Latrice holds up her hands. She can see that the vulnerable part of their conversation is over, and she doesn’t want to push Bianca any more, so instead she gets down to business. “I believe you. But...if things get worse, or...have you thought about what you would actually do? Where you would go? Do you have your own bank account, credit cards? Is everything joint, or-”

“Latrice, stop. This is ridiculous, I’m not some battered wife who needs-”

“No, but...you still might want to leave, at some point, so...didn’t you sign a pre-nup? What if he tries to claim that you cheated? Are his parents vindictive? We know the answers to all of these questions and you are totally fucked. You need to open a bank account, stat.”

Bianca looks down, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I’m not leaving, I already know that. And you were the one defending him ten minutes ago, so I don’t understand-”

“I know! I know, but...this is just a safety net, okay? Plan B. In case things get worse and you need... Look, Plan A is still that you stay married, and work out whatever you need to, and have a long life and beautiful children who will grow up as spoiled as your horrible little rat dogs.”

Bianca begins to laugh through her tears, crawling into Latrice’s arms.

“Why do I do this? Why do I ruin things?”

“Hey.” Latrice takes Bianca’s face in her hands. “I’m sorry if it felt like I was taking his side over yours...I’m on your side, always, okay?”

Bianca nods, letting her friend rock her, stroking her hair and telling her that everything is going to work out.

***

“Oh man,” Bianca groans, sinking into her bed. The dogs are going crazy, smelling everything and jumping all over her. “You guys excited to be home? Huh?” she asks, scratching Dede behind the ears.

“Not as excited as I am to have you back…” Jared says, sliding in beside her.

Bianca turns to look at him. Maybe there was something to that whole ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ after all. She smiles and runs her fingers through his hair.

“So...you missed me?”

“Like crazy,” Jared murmurs, nuzzling closer.

For a moment, Bianca feels utterly content, sleepy eyes falling closed. But then, as his hands move to her fly, popping the button, she wriggles away, sitting up a little.

“Seriously? It’s been over 2 months,” Jared whines, pulling her back down.

“I know, but I’m just...I’ve been traveling all day. I’m exhausted, and I feel filthy, and-”

“I like you filthy,” he growls into her ear. “Come on…”

“Jared…” she pushes him away harder.

“Fine! I got the fucking hint. You don’t have to be such a…” he scoffs. “Forget it.”

“I’m sorry. I just need to like, rest and then shower, and-”

“Whatever, Bianca. I’m a monster for wanting to have sex with my wife. Message received.” He rises from the bed.

Bianca doesn’t have the energy to chase after him. Not today. She falls back against the pillows with a groan.

***

They have a luxurious three weeks to prep season two of Silver Screens, and by the first shoot day, Bianca’s confidence in her work is soaring. Beth has trusted her more than ever, and she’s now designing nearly half of the costumes on the show. But as good as she feels about her job, nothing compares to the heart-bursting joy she feels when the trailer door swings open and Courtney comes flying into her arms, practically knocking her over.

“Hey!” Bianca says, hugging her tightly. She inhales deeply, loving the way Courtney melts into her arms, face tucked into the crook of her neck as if it belongs there. An embarrassing heat creeps into her cheeks as she pulls back a little. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good! Just got back from that music video shoot in Seattle. What about you? How was Atlanta? I’m so proud of you!”

“It was good. You know me, I love to boss people around.”

“And you’re so good at it,” Courtney says, still gripping both of her hands tightly. She glances down and then says, “Hey, where’d your nails go?”

“Oh, uh. Yeah, they kept breaking, so…” Bianca’s usual French tips have been replaced by short, shiny red nails.

“Hmm. I like these a lot better.” Her eyes dance mischievously. “They’re, uh...very practical.”

“Is your mind always in the gutter?” Bianca asks, cheeks burning, palms itching. She has an instinct to rip her hands away, but doesn’t.

“What?! I just said I like them,” Courtney giggles, squeezing Bianca’s fingers, gazing up at her with glittering eyes. “So, are we gonna hang out before the season starts to kick your ass? I really missed you.”

Bianca clears her throat and pulls up a stool, trying to cover the fact that she’s literally weak at the knees.

“Uh...sure...”

“Are you free Saturday?” Courtney asks.

“Actually, no. One of Jared’s douchey coworkers is having a barbecue, let’s-get-fucked-up-cause-it’s-summer type thing. And I promised his fiancée that I’d go, so...ugh. Saturday with the bros.”

“Sounds enchanting,” Courtney laughs.

“You should come!” Bianca blurts out, and then adds, “I mean, if you want. Willam is gross but he does know how to throw a party. And the house is supposed to be really cool, so...”

“That is an enticing offer…” Courtney tilts her head, pretending to think it over.

Bianca leans in. “I’m not gonna beg.”

“Well, that spoils all the fun,” Courtney tells her, eyes glimmering.

“Ha ha. Nevermind-”

“B…” Courtney places a hand on her shoulder. “You had me at ‘douchey coworker.’”

#rpdr fanfiction #bianca del rio #courtney act #bitney #latrice royale #lesbian au #slow burn #fluff #angst #undone #stephanie #veronica #tw emotional abuse #concrit welcome

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fanfics4all · 6 years

Text

The Northside Serpent: Part 3

Request: Yes / no

Don’t be shy, request things! (Requests are closed for right now but will be open again soon!) <3 Have a nice day/night

Sweet Pea x Reader

Word count: 1859

Warnings: School raid I guess?

Y/N: Your Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

Summary: You’re Kevin Keller’s little sister when you’re mom left to go to war and your dad started cheating (I’m making it so he’s been cheating since season 1) You started rebelling; dying your hair, getting a nose piercing, tattoo, and hanging out on the southside.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this part!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Sweets drove for about 20 minutes and we were near Sweetwater River. He turned onto a dirt road that wasn’t very noticeable. His bike rolled to a stop and he got off; he pulled the helmet off my head and smiled at me. I got off the bike and he put the helmet on the bars of his bike. He turned and grabbed my hand pulling me along the dirt path.

“Sweets where are we?” I asked confused.

“Close your eyes.” He said pausing and standing in front of me.

“Why?” I asked with a raise of my eyebrow.

“Don’t you trust me Quinny?” He smirked and I rolled my eyes but did as he asked. He grabbed my hand and leaded me a short way.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.” He whispered. I opened my eyes and was met with a beautiful open area with trees and flowers surrounding us.

“Oh my god! Sweets this is beautiful!” I looked around in awe. I looked at Sweet Pea and he smiled down at me.

“When did you find this? How did you find this?” I asked as he lead me to a fallen over tree. We both sat down looking at each other.

“I just drove off one night to clear my head and I ended up finding this place, now it’s like my own secret hideout.” I smiled at look up at the night sky painted with stars.

“It’s amazing.” I said quietly. I shivered cursing myself for forgetting my jacket.

“Here…” Sweets said taking his jacket off and putting it around my shoulders.

“Won’t you be cold?” I asked and he shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter, I can’t have a beautiful girl be cold.” He said smiling and I blushed. He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer to him.

“You’re cute when you blush.” He whispered. I looked up at him, his face was illuminated by the moonlight making him look so good. He gently moved some hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear, leaving his hand resting against my cheek.

“Y/N…” He said in a breathy whisper.

“Yes Sweets…” I answered just as quietly.

“You’re so beautiful, I can’t take it anymore.” He whispered and my eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“Sweets what do you-” I was cut off by his lips on mine. I was shocked but quickly realized what was happening. I slowly shut my eyes and kissed him back. His lips were slightly chapped from the cold air and his rough skin was rough on my cheek but it somehow made the kiss even better. He pulled away and I slowly opened my eyes to his is brown orbs staring at me. He had a smile on his lips and I mirrored it.

“Sweets…” I said breathlessly.

“I tried so hard not to fall for you Y/N but I can’t help myself. You’re too amazing and I just couldn’t hold back any longer.” I looked at him shocked, Sweet Pea likes me? My shock quickly turned to happiness which quickly turned into sadness.

“Sweets…” I sighed and his face fell.

“You don’t feel the same…” He said sadly.

“No! I do!” I quickly said and he looked at me confused.

“So what’s the problem?”

“My dad...if he ever found out he would kill you and me.” I said looking down at my hands. Sweet Pea lifted my chin to look at him.

“We can keep it a secret.” He smiled but I shook my head.

“I don’t want to give him a reason to give the Serpents trouble…”

“Let’s just give it a little time, just until I can convince him you guys aren’t bad people.” He sighed but agreed. I took out my phone and looked at the time, we’ve been out for an hour and a half. I looked up at Sweets.

“I think I should get back before my dad suspects something.” He nodded and stood up, he held out his hand to me and I took it standing up.

“Let’s get the princess back to her tower.” He said with a smirk and I giggled.

Sweet Pea drove my home and I handed him his jacket and went to go walk down the block to my house when he grabbed my arm and spun me to face him. He pulled me close and smiled down at me. His lips met mine again and I smiled into the kiss.

“See you tomorrow Quinny.” He smirked got on his bike and drove off. I sighed happily and ran back to my house, I climbed the vines and suck into my window. I threw on some pajamas and fell into a blissful sleep.

The next morning I woke up to my alarm yelling at me to wake up. I groaned and turned it off getting up. I got dressed in some black ripped skinny jeans, A black crop top, a flannel, and finished it off with some combat boots.

For makeup I went a little less intense, I did a little bit of black eyeshadow with a winged liner and a more neutral lipstick. Once I was finished I walked downstairs to meet Kevin and my dad in the kitchen. Again I grabbed an apple and took a bite.

“You ready Kev?” I asked my brother as he got all his papers together.

“Yeah, you?” I nodded and turned to leave.

“Y/N you come home right after school.” My dad said and I rolled my eyes.

“Whatever.” I said and Kevin and I left for school.

Last period of school

I had off last period and I know my dad said to come home after school but technically school wasn’t over yet. So I walked to Southside High to see my friends. I walked in without a problem and spotted Toni, Fangs, Sweet Pea, and Jughead all talking by some lockers. I walked over there and hugged Fangs from behind. He quickly turned around ready to punch me but stopped when he saw it was me and his eyes grew wide.

“Quinny!? What are you doing here?” He asked shocked. They all turned and looked at me shocked.

“I had off last period and since I’m grounded and wouldn’t be able to hang out later I thought I would come say hi.” I smiled.

“You shouldn’t be here, if the Ghoulies see you they’ll kill you!” Sweet Pea said and everyone nodded in agreement. I rolled my eyes.

“I walked in here no problem, no one even noticed me.” I said. They all looked at each other almost nervously.

“Y/N, can I talk to you for a sec?” Jug asked and I nodded. He grabbed me and pulled me away from the group.

“You shouldn’t be here! If your dad ever found out he’ll kill you!” He said in a whisper.

“He won’t find out Jug, I mean none of you are gonna tell him and I most certainly won’t tell him. So there’s no problem.” I went to turn to walk back to everyone but Jughead stopped me.

“Y/N, I love you, you’re like a sister to me you know that, but you need to leave. Sweet Pea’s right, if the Ghoulies found out who you are you’re as good as dead!” I looked at him and he was really worried.

“They’d be stupid to attack me and you know it.”

“It’s the Ghoulies Y/N, they are stupid.” I sighed and shook my head. Just as I was about to respond Archie Andrews came rushing up behind Jughead and I.

“Jug! Jug! We gotta go right now.” He said slightly out of breath.

“What the hell are you doing here? Betty ask you to throw some salt in the wound.” Jughead spit angeryly.

“Mayor McCoy’s about to raid Southside high we gotta go.” He said quickly.

“Wait what?” I asked confused.

“‘Y/N/N? What are you doing here?” Archie asked me confused. Just then the doors to Southside High flew open with such force and Mayor McCoy and my father walked through along with plenty of other cops and drug dogs.

“Hey!” My dad yelled out through the crowded halls. Archie grabbed Jughead who grabbed me and pulled us through the halls to escape. The cops walked through the halls and started arresting pretty much anyone they saw.

“Toni!” Jughead called out and she started running towards us. Two cops grabbed Sweet Pea and slammed him into the lockers roughly.

“Sweet Pea!”I screamed and tired to go after him.

“Y/N!” Jughead tried to grab me but missed. Archie came up behind me and lifted me up my the waist. I struggled against him trying to free myself so I can help Sweet Pea.

“Y/N we gotta go!” He said cairring me backwards.

“No! Let me go!” I shouted at him. I looked at Sweets and he was glaring at me, I’ve never seen him so angry before. He punched the locker and continued to glare at me. The three of us escaped Southside and ran, well Archie and Jughead ran I was still being carried. We ended up at pops and they shoved me into a booth also sitting down.

“I have to go back!” I said trying to leave.

“Y/N you can’t! Your dad is there.” Jughead said and he looked at the time.

“You better get home, I’m sure your dad is gonna be checking in on you soon.” He said with a sigh.

“Just...just tell me when everyone is out...please?” I begged Jughead.

“I will I promise Quinny.” He said using my nickname which he rarely did. I got up and walked home and was met by Kevin pretty much waitting for me.

“Y/N! Where were you, I looked for you after school but you were nowhere to be seen and you didn’t answer your phone!” He said hugging me.

“Promise you won’t tell dad?” I asked.

“Promise!” We sat on the couch and I sighed.

“I went to Southside high during last period since I had off since I wouldn’t be able to go hang out with my friends after school.” I said looking at him, he was shocked.

“You went to Southside high!? Are you crazy!”

“I was fine Kev!” He shook his head.

“Anyway Jughead pulled me to the side to talk to me about how I shouldn’t be there when Archie showed up saying how Mayor McCoy was going to raid the school and that we needed to leave. That’s when dad and her showed up…” Kevin’s eyes widened.

“Did he see you?” I shook my head.

“I don’t think so.”

“Let’s hope he didn’t…”

“Kev...they arrested Sweet Pea…” I said with tears in my eyes. Kevin pulled me in to him and hugged me.

“Hey, it’ll be alright okay?” We ended up just chilling out and waiting for our dad to get home but Kevin got a text saying that he was working late and he wouldn’t be home till later. So we made ourselves dinner and went to bed.

Taglist: @54fangirl @southsidehufflepuff @xrosesareredx

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thorne93 · 6 years

Text

Curious Conundrum (Part 25)

Prompt: You’re John Watson’s sister. One day you decide to visit your brother for lunch, only to meet the infamous Mr. Holmes…

Word Count: 3032

Warnings: language, flirtation, sexual innuendos (maybe? idfk), murder/crime/case related stuff, angst, jealousy…

Notes: Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong Not only did she beta, but I literally couldn’t have written half these scenes without her help. She contributed majorly, even wrote some parts of scenes. I am forever in her debt.

Also, this starts AFTER Season 2, episode 1. I don’t follow all the episodes, but it does follow the timeline and hit some major events : )

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reservations made, vendors paid, outfits picked up, certificates ready, and it was the day of the wedding, finally. Sherlock had gotten up before you, shockingly.

He’d been composing a song on violin for them and you had absolutely loved the way it’d sounded. Secretly, you hoped and prayed if you two ever got married he would do something similar but you would never bring up the idea of marriage to him.

You were busy texting Mary, grabbing your dress, heels, makeup, and accessories, and box of wedding goods while he had his recorded violin music going.

“Y/N, will you come here?” he called from the living room.

“What is it?” you asked as you stepped in.

“Dance with me?” he requested, his dreamy eyes alluring as he held his hand out. Even though he was in his pajamas and robe, he still looked like the best dance partner you could ever ask for.

“I--Sure,” you breathed, gliding over to him and taking his hand. Without much warning, his other hand snapped over your waist. The sensation awoke feelings in you you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You and Sherlock had been living together, sure, and the touching was slowly but surely coming back. Holding hands was more frequent, and you kissed nearly every day, but the sex had yet to come. That was something you’d been really scared of.

Being this close, smelling his aftershave, your chests pressed together… It was hard to resist him before, and growing even harder right this second. The two of you began dancing, twirling, and he dipped you just as Mrs. Hudson walked in, making you blush.

“Shut up, Mrs. Hudson,” he snapped casually as she stepped in.

“Sherlock,” you chided, still holding on to him.

“I haven’t said a word.”

“You were formulating a question. It’s physically painful watching you think,” he remarked.

“I thought it was you playing.”

“It was me playing.” He let you go and paused the music. “I am composing.”

“You were dancing,” she noted, walking in with a tray, smiling.

You blushed and nodded. “He’s road testing his new song,” you informed.

“Oh, you two look so cute together. I’m so glad you finally moved in, darling. Sherlock really missed your company--”

“Why are you here?’ he suddenly demanded, turning to face her.

“I’m bringing you your morning tea, you’re not usually awake,” she noted.

“You bring me tea in the morning?” he asked before plopping into his chair and you went to stand behind him.

She giggled. “Where do you think it came from?”

“I don’t know. Just thought it sort of happened.”

“Your mum has a lot to answer for.”

“Mmm, I know. I have a list. Mycroft has a file.”

She sat across from the two of you, grinning ear to ear. “So! It’s the big day then!”

“What big day?” Sherlock asked before you playfully tapped him.

“The wedding!” she stressed. “John and Mary are getting married!”

“Two people who are currently living together are about to attend church, have a big party, go on a short holiday, then carry on living together. What’s big about that?” he asked.

“Marriage changes people.”

“No it doesn’t,” you and Sherlock said in unison. He looked up at you with a half-smile.

“Well you two wouldn’t understand because you’re not married.”

“No, but we live together. Just because the government doesn’t recognize it and I haven’t taken Sherlock’s last name..” you insinuated slowly, “doesn’t mean we don’t understand.”

Mrs. Hudson continued to talk about her friend and their wedding day, about how marriage changes you but you personally couldn’t imagine it. So two people who love each other make it legal, what could it possibly change? In the meantime, Sherlock had nearly thrown Mrs. Hudson out of the flat. His nerves were just a jumbled up mess. You had half a mind to offer him a cigarette, but thought better of it.

Sherlock looked over at John’s chair, a solemn expression touching his face. It didn’t take a genius to see what had suddenly bothered him.

“He’s still your friend, Sherlock, just like he’s still my brother. He’ll have time for all of us,” you assured softly.

“Right,” he said, his tone making it clear he was changing the subject. “You need to take all of those things to Mary and I need to finish this song.”

“You’re in the mood for kicking people out today,” you noted with a smile.

“I’m in the mood to do our jobs,” he remarked lowly, his tone making you quiver.

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

The day went off almost without a hitch -- well the first part. Getting Mary into her gown, getting the veil on, the makeup and hair artist helping her. You and Sherlock walking down the aisle when it was your time, trying to keep your eyes off him in a tux.

He looked good in pajamas, great in his business casual, but god damn did he look delicious in a tuxedo.

The lot of you were getting your pictures taken, when you noticed one of the bridesmaids, Janine, had leaned over to Sherlock during the photo session to whisper and talk. He nodded for a moment, and then gestured to some guests. For some reason, this action went up your spine.

After the photos, you were shown over to the garden room where John and Mary greeted the guests one by one. Once you got inside, everyone started to mingle. You stayed by Mary’s side, as your duty was practically written law to be there. She assured you to go off and have fun, but you felt it would be best if she needed help that you were right there.

While you stood there however and tuned her and John out, your eyes washed over the crowd, searching for your boyfriend. There he was again with Janine. The two were huddled closely, talking lowly as their eyes moved about the room. The more they talked, the more they seemed to grow fond of each other. He turned to her and gave a small look of satisfaction, and she gave him a look of adoration.

The sight alone sent flames to the top of your head.

Time drug on as you tried to stay by Mary’s side, but it kept getting harder as you watched Janine practically like a shadow on Sherlock. Every time, you wanted to nearly rip your heel off and beat her with it.

Normally, you wouldn’t have had this sort of reaction, this level of jealousy. But those awful words Sherlock had spoken to you before… well, they still resonated. He’d assured you time and time again they weren’t real, but how could you be sure? Maybe Irene Adler had given up on him? Maybe he’d settled for you? Maybe now that he had a taste of a real romance and relationship, he was ready to move on from you. As if you were training wheels - the first set, just the thing to get him broken in, ready for the real thing, then as soon as you weren’t needed, off you went.

You tried to reason, think logically, tell yourself they were just talking. People could do that after all, just talk… But this was your boyfriend, this was the man who had put you through hell and back, this was the man that was supposedly hard to woo, anti-social person. Yet here he was fraternizing.

You shook your head as all of you had taken a seat at the wedding party table, Sherlock next to you, Janine on your left. If she even looked at him funny, you’d break a glass over her face.

They commanded attention for the Best Man and Sherlock realized that was him. A slight look of panic shadowed his face before you squeezed his hand and he stood up, ready to speak. The room was still applauding as he got things ready.

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends… and… um, others,” he stammered, looking out onto the quiet and awkward crowd. “A--a--also…”

Your insides twisted for him. It was your job to stand before people and talk nearly every day, but not his. He never had to talk to a lot of people at once, and if he did, it was usually to brag about himself.

“Telegrams,” you suddenly whisper, hoping to push him along and help.

“What? Oh, oh right,” he noted. He picked up the cards and said, “First things first. Telegrams. Well, they’re not actually telegrams. We just call them telegrams. I don’t know why. Wedding tradition. ... because we don’t have enough of that already, apparently.”

You cringed at his words. You knew he loathed weddings, marriages, all of it, but he needed to keep in check his negativity on John and Mary’s day.

He read off the cards. He got through about three before he started to sum up their intentions and toss them onto the table.

“Bit of a theme – you get the general gist. People are basically fond.”

You adjusted nervously in your seat next to him.

“John Watson. My friend, John Watson. When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused.”

He then went on to recall the humorous conversation, one that you had not been present for, but now wish you had been.

“I confess at first I didn’t realize he was asking me. When finally I understood, I expressed to him that I was both flattered and ... surprised. I explained to him that I’d never expected this request and I was a little daunted in the face of it. I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best to accomplish a task which was – for me – as demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he’d placed in me ... and indicated that I was, in some ways, very close to being ... moved by it. It later transpired that I had said none of this out loud.”

To this, you and your brother gave a laugh, granting an opening for others to do so as well. After this anecdote, Sherlock pulled out the index cards that you had suggested and then he began leafing them out onto the table. All the while muttering “Done that bit.”

Finally, he set on with the speech. “I’m afraid, John, I can’t congratulate you.”

You stilled, remembering that you had helped him with the speech and that was not in there.

“All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure, cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world. Today we honour the death-watch beetle that is the doom of our society and, in time – one feels certain – our entire species. But anyway ... let’s talk about John.”

“Please,” your brother urged gently.

"If I burden myself with a little help-mate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice – it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me."

You couldn't help but smile and look down at your lap at that one.

"Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes, in truth, from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides. It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favour exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel, and contrast is, after all, God’s own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation."

At this, you grinned to, cocking your head slightly, wondering where on earth he summoned talks of God.

"...or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot."

Ah, there it is.

"The point I’m trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. I am dismissive of the virtuous, unaware of the beautiful, and uncomprehending in the face of the happy."

A sad look shadowed your expression for a moment.

"So if I didn’t understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody’s best friend. Certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing."

A round of awws went around the room and you wanted to join them.

"John, I am a ridiculous man redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship. But, as I’m apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion."

For a moment, you wondered if he'd shattered the somewhat beautiful speech he had just built. But before you could assess the damage, he spoke again.

"Actually, now I can. Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss ...so sorry again about that last one. So know this: today you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved – in short, the two people who love you most in all this world. And I know I speak for Mary as well when I say we will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that."

To your surprise, you were tearing up. Sherlock had somehow managed to insult everyone in the room, even himself, and yet say the most eloquent and loving thing. And that is why you loved him.

“Ah, yes. Now on to some funny stories about John…” but he looked up and realized everyone was misty eyed and quiet. “What’s wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? John? Y/N?"

You couldn't say much so Sherlock turned back to John.

"Did I do it wrong?"

"No, you didn't. Come here." He embraced Sherlock warmly , your heart glowing with love at the sight before you.

After that, Sherlock started to go into some of their cases together, all of the noteworthy ones. Then he moved on to the bachelor night. The recollection of it tickled you, even with Molly in the story. It was a rather hilarious night, while Sherlock had tried to control their party, you’d treated Mary to a night of drinking, clubs, dancing, and then back at their house, loads of gifts.

He finally reeled in the speech to an almost close, as he said, "Ladies and gentlemen, pray charge your glasses and be upstanding. Today begin the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson. The two reasons why every single one of us is ..."

But suddenly, he stopped, frozen. He stared forward a moment and you looked over at him, worried. Before you could react, he’d let go of his glass and it fell to the ground around your feet, shattering. You should’ve jumped back to protect your exposed feet, but your worry for Sherlock kicked into overdrive.

“Here today,” he finished. A waiter offered him another glass but you could tell, his demeanor had changed. It’d been subtle at first, but with every growing second it was more evident. Something was wrong.

“Ladies and gentlemen, people tell you not to milk a good speech – get off early, leave ’em laughing. Wise advice I’ll certainly try to bear in mind. But for now--" he put a hand on the table and launched over it. If you weren't so concerned for whatever was going wrong, it would've aroused you, that level of agility. “Part two! Part two is more acton-based. I’m gonna ... walk around, shake things up a bit. Who’d go to a wedding? That’s the question. Who would bother to go to any lengths to get themselves to a wedding? Well, everyone. Weddings are great! Love a wedding.”

Meanwhile, he was pacing up and down the tables, eyeing everyone.

You leaned over to John. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, but something,” he acknowledged, both of you having your eyes on him. The two of you watched on in worried anticipation as he continued to pace. He muttered, mumbled, ranted, and rambled. He got Lestrade to leave to go to he bathroom.

You gasped. Someone was here. Something was going to happen. Something...fatal.

Just as you worked it out, Sherlock confirmed your fear by saying, “Oh! Ladies and gentlemen, can’t stand it when I finally get the chance to speak for once, Vatican Cameos.”

Those two words sent chills down your back. You knew very well what they meant, and John did too. He informed Mary and Sherlock seemed as if he was going to snap. In fact, he kind of did. He slapped himself twice and you couldn’t help but stand up, ready to go see if you could help him.

He continued to work out his theory aloud as he walked all over the room until he finally came up to the table and said, “Major Sholto is going to be killed. I don’t know how or why, but it’s going to happen.”

John kissed Mary, told her to stay there, then followed Sherlock. You and Mary looked at each other, speaking with your eyes for a brief moment before the two of you jumped up and traced their steps.

The four of you ran to the Major’s room as Sherlock explained that the man was in grave danger. However, he wouldn’t open the door for them. He demanded Sherlock solve it, but Sherlock claimed he couldn’t back then so he couldn’t now. John accused him of being a drama queen, and that unless ‘the game is on’ Sherlock can’t work properly. With this information, he was able to start sorting through possibilities, until he finally realized how he’d a murder had already been attempted on Major Sholto.

After reasoning with the Major, he finally opened the door and all of you rushed in to help him.

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ferrethyun · 6 years

Text

He’s my soulmate, unfortunately | Pt 11

{Requests are open!}

Summary | Previously | You are here | Next

Warnings: This is much longer like 2.5k words or smth and my love for harnesses is r e a l.

Previously: ... the one thing that lingered on Lee’s mind was that all familiar glint in M/ns eye when he spoke about Yoongi.

The following day was met with screaming and cries of playfulness as the second oldest and youngest of Canvas ran around the home hair salon that they would visit whenever the group would change their hair colour. Shinwa and Taewoo, both had cameras in their hands, currently recording the fiasco that was happening as Lee sat in a chair with someone applying bleach to his chocolate coloured hair and the eldest and leader sat on opposite ends of a sofa on their phones; whatever caused the two members to chase each other wasn’t clear as their voices shook as they ran and the pitch at which they were talking made it so that no one could tell. Eventually, Shinwa got to a sofa and practically threw his body on it and let out a grunt when the second oldest piled himself on top "Yah! Give me my phone back!" Taewoo grinned out as he felt around the torso of maknae for the said device. "Never!" The pink haired male cried back, "Hey artists! Did you now that Woo-hyungs background is a picture of himself?!"

The mentioned let out a cry of scandal at the information that had just been leaked, his search increased in vigour after that. M/n couldn't help but look up and let out a small huff of laughter as he looked into the camera on at his side on the arm of the sofa "I have to deal with this every day" He smiled, "I wouldn't trade it for anything though" The camera viewfinder showed the eldest behind the leader baring a gentle smile as he watched the latter talk into the camera. Ren quickly looked away to see Lee, with his second session of bleach sat on his hair, get out of his chair and walk over to one of the armchairs near the windows.

"Shin-ah!" Ren called out, "Go and get that pink removed from your hair!" This was me with a quick 'Okay!' and Shinwa running over to the seat when Taewoo finally removed himself off of the youngest. The eldest let out a sigh of satisfaction as he got up, bringing his camera with him and sat in the seat next to the pink haired male after seeing the other hairdresser ready to fix his roots and put his new dye on.

M/n made his way over to Taewoo, eyeing the ever declining clock on his wrist as he walked over with his camera "Woo-hyung~" The dark-eyed male called out teasingly, "Tomorrow you meet your soulmate" As he said this, M/n shoved his camera in the face of the second oldest, giving everyone a great view of his reddening face and the nervous look that adorned it.

"Ah, I'm nervous," Taewoo admitted.

"Don't be, you'll do great Hyung" M/n responded with a chirp in his voice. The two conversed for a while until the older singer got called over to take the seat of the youngest to get his new hair colour put over his brassy blond. Soon enough, M/n was called over to get his denim blue covered by a dark maroon red, a seemingly sexy colour in the wake of a sexily themed album; as he felt the hairdresser applying the dye to the lower back of his head, M/n scrolled through his texts and replied to some and sent a silly selfie to Hoseok over snapchat which was responded to with a shaky picture of the floor and a lot of exclamation marks. As the evening dawned on the home salon, every member of Canvas bore a new hair colour and style; the youngest now had a platinum blond instead of a faded pink, Lee having a white in place of chocolate brown, Taewoo having a silver brown, Ren adorning a charcoal light grey and lastly, M/n baring a dark maroon read in place of denim blue.

After their several thanks to the two hair stylists, the group said goodbye to their cameras, gave them to their manager and set off home. As they travelled back to the dorm, M/n made sure to address the plan of the next day with his members "Okay, I know you're all tired but you need to listen up!" His voice called around the van, "Tomorrow we're doing the photo shoot for LfL and the first part of the music video. The next day will be the last part of the music video and possibly another photo shoot." the information was acknowledged by the members and as they got into their dorm dinner was made, had and then everyone went to sleep.

The next day was a sunny one causing the photo shoot to happen in some unbearable heat. All members currently wore dark suits and everyone, not including M/n, wore all black. Black shoes, pants, some with waistcoats, a tie and a charcoal shirt; on the other hand, M/n wore a maroon shirt in place of the charcoal one and did not have a tie. All members were decorated in some kind of erotic looking accessory, most having harnesses. M/n had harnesses all over his body in a bold black leather, faux of course. He had a garter harness that wrapped around his thighs and up to his waist and one that wrapped around his chest to his shoulder and down to just above his folded up sleeve; all topped off with a silver, diamond encrusted choker. Out of all the members he clearly had the most erotic look as all the other members had variants in harness styling and all had incredibly plain chokers with different detailing from a large hoop to a padlock.

They had already shot one look of two already, the other being a romantic, white, angelic look. All members wore white, silk pyjama style clothing. Once again, except M/n, who wore an off-white. They had taken the group shots and individuals; the one photo for M/n that stood out was the picture of him looking over his shoulder and at the camera with a padlock in his right hand behind his back, visible to the camera. He thought about how these photos were clearly made to set him apart from the others, yet paid no attention to how it bothered him.

The leader slid a finger underneath the harness straps as he left the changing room to make sure he had enough room to pose. As he looked up, he saw Lee teasing the youngest. About what is what M/n would have to guess later as they stopped when the saw their leader exit the room in an extremely erotic look "Oh my god..."Is all that left Shinwa's lips as a red look took over his face.

M/n looked away in embarrassed "Is it that bad?" He sheepishly grinned.

"Hyung, if soulmates didn't exist I'd be trying to take you home now" Shinwa managed out. The members couldn't help but laugh with looks of slight embarrassment on their faces due to the fact that the camera nearest to them recorded the events unfolding.

The laughter and embarrassment didn't last long as they were called over to a rather royal and dark looking set to take their group photos. The director took a few standing and a few seated before he called for the individual photos to start; the photographer they almost always worked with preferred to go in order from youngest to oldest. So while the two eldest went off to have their hair and makeup fixed, M/n went with the two youngest to support them especially Shinwa as he knew the now blond might not be as comfortable with the theme. Surprisingly enough the youngest thrived despite his anxiety at the beginning. M/n couldn't help but turn to the camera next to him that he knew was recording "Wow, look at that!" He grinned, "I knew he'd be great but this is amazing" As the mentioned finished up his shoot, Lee went and took his place on the set with a good luck thrown out by M/n. The red-nett greeted his youngest member with a bottle of water and a hug and said that his stylist called for him so that he could be ready for the music video.

Eventually, it was M/ns turn for the individual photos. He took a seat on the love seat and began posing already understanding what he wanted from the photos. Eventually, the director called for him to stand up and for some helpers to move the love seat and replace it with a plain black wooden seat. The director explained that he had an image, and he wanted M/n to sit in the chair with his arms behind and some red rope would be tied around his wrists. After getting those photos they had him pose with some handcuffs and ropes to give him an aura of dominance.

Soon enough he was done and Taewoo was called up and M/n could easily figure out from the grin on his face that he had met his soulmate. As he went back into the styling room to meet with his stylist. His stylist explained that the director wanted him to be able to dance well for the music video so they were going to change him out of his current harnesses and into just one harness; this harness was a very simple one that crossed over his lower abdomen and went over his shoulders. The stylist unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt to just below his pecks, fixed his eyeshadow and sent him on his way to the set of the first part of the music video.

M/n arrived at the set and saw pure elegance. The biggest set was a set with a lot of marble architecture, the big space clearly showed that this is where they wanted most of the group's shots to happen. There were two other sets off to the sides of the marble set; one was an almost office looking space with dark woods and a red filter over the "window." The other set was something of similarity. This set had a long glass top table that could sit roughly 20 people; all the chairs were dark wood like the table and had a velvet coated cushion on the back and bottom. However, there was a large backed seat that eerily resembled a throne and with the way this day was going M/n could tell that he was the one that'd be sat in that seat.

With the arrival of the two oldest members of Canvas, the director called them over to the marble set for them to start recording for the rest of the day. The members got onto the elevated set with looks of awe as the staff laughed at their amazement "Okay let's start with a straight through recording of the dance!" The director called through a microphone causing the members to get into position. As the music pumped through the speakers, the group started to dance, the opening lines coming from Taewoo followed by Ren with M/n backing their vocals. It rapidly got the middle of the song where the group was supposed to spin out and have M/n show off his vocal ability for the first time but before they could get there, while spinning out, Lee slipped and came crashing to the floor; a loud cut was called, and everyone went to check if he was okay.

A few moments and an ice pack later and the group was recording again. Thankfully this time they got through M/ns scene and the rest of the dance perfectly with no mistakes. After the staff clapped and their makeup was fixed, the members made their way over to the smaller sets which were then revealed to do with the beginning lines and any parts where there were two people dancing at the same time. M/n, Ren and Taewoo stayed at the red office set while Lee and Shinwa went over to the dining table set. The hyung line went about setting themselves up for recording the beginning scenes, the leader sat in the office chair behind the desk while the two older singers sat on either side on the front of the desk. The music started, and Taewoo started lip syncing to the music while the camera panned around the three. M/n sat with his fingers intertwined and elbows on the desk while Ren looked over his shoulder with an intense look. Soon Ren was lip syncing, and it was Taewoo's turn to act; as it approached the end of Ren's verse, the younger singer sat up and moved the curtain out of the way and looked out of the false window.

Cut!

The calling of the stop came from both scenes even though they weren't even close to each other. The members looked at each other across the room and simultaneously let out 'ohhhh's in awe. The director called the hyung line over to the dining table scene and explained that this scene wasn't to be lip-syncing to. Everyone placed themselves in the seats that the director wanted them in and as M/n predicted he was sat at the head of the table in the throne-esk seat. With the call of 'action!' The music from the near end of the song started playing through the speakers as the camera crept forwards on the table. All of the members held eye contact with the camera until it stopped in front of M/n; when the camera stopped M/n leaned back in his chair and smirked at the camera.

"Aaaaaaand cut!" Called the director, "That's it for today! Thank you for your hard work!" The members couldn't help but cheer as they pulled themselves from their seating and thanked the staff members for their hard work. Once they removed themselves from the dining set, all the members met as a group and stood in front of one of the cameras as they gave a small speech to summarise day one of recording "We all worked hard today and we hope you enjoy our work!" Ren closed followed by "Fighting!" From all the members.

As everyone got out of their performance clothes and removed their makeup, M/n went round all the members and gave them some snack bars to help replenish their hunger. Soon they were in the van on their way back to the dorms as their manager addressed them on the next day's events "Tomorrow we're going to a manor to use their office, entrance room, library and gardens. We may potentially record across the whole manor depending on what the director wants" The manager spoke in a quiet tone, "We will release the date of your come back and the preorder date in a few days, and throughout the day leading up to the release of the MV we’ll be releasing the photos, album artwork and anything else Your comeback debut is so close so please don't go ruining your diets or routines now."

M/n couldn't help but sneak a glance at his phones clock before he drifted off to sleep.

2:45 am.

Day one complete.

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