Hello, my loves, when I have free time my mind travels fast, so I came up with another Eric Fanfic. I really hope you guys enjoy it !!!!
Also a big thanks to my lovely @singingpeople that helped me a lot !!!!! Thanks, sweetie, it meant the world to me ! 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞
The sizzling of your blood dropping onto the coals was all you could focus on during your choosing ceremony.
Was it the best decision for you? Have you gone crazy? You didn’t know what to think anymore. Standing in front of the bowls your mind reeled with so many impressions all around you but it was too late for regrets.
“Dauntless!” Marcus Eaton, the abnegation leader yelled trying to keep his face impassive.
Knowing you and your parents he looked at you, the despise clear for you to see in his eyes. The abnegation leader mustered you with the same look he had thrown his own daughter fifteen minutes before.
You grew up with Melanie Eaton, went to school with her and you two were as much of a friend, as an abnegation could be. You knew all about the abuse she had suffered along with her brother that defected two years’ prior than the both of you.
You´ve been raised as the perfect abnegation, always putting others first, always invisible as the grey of your clothes made you fade into the background. You were never the most beautiful girl in the room, in fact, no one ever looked at you, so over the time, you learned to just keep to yourself. Not even Mel could break the walls you had built around you.
It was a late evening when he
found himself stumbling through a crowded dance floor where beer was flying
through the air, it seemed, and the entire place reeked of smoke and weed,
mixed with a tangy odour of vomit coming from somewhere in the corner.
All in all, the place was disgusting
and made Min YoonGi act extra cautious, hovering his hand over the gun on his
waist. How the fuck was he supposed to even find some clients in this dumpster?
Releasing a heavy sigh, YoonGi
slowly tracked to the bar, all the while throwing a careful glance over the
gathered audience, trying to seek out some rich looking bastards- but there was
none. Not this time, anyway.
Should you ever have the chance to go see the Reduced Shakespeare Company, here’s what to expect (buckle up folks, cause it’s wild)
basically a 150k words crossover fanfic of all shakespeare plays
very much ooc at times
so. many OCs
Hamlet/Lady Macbeth, Richard III/Beatrice, Beatrice/Catherine/Juliet, Juliet/Dromeo (Original Male Character) (the list goes on)
It’s the very first play Shakespeare wrote when he was 17. They found it buried in a parking lot in Leicester
Puck is the narrator. He makes Juliet fall in love with Dromeo (Romeo’s long lost twins) for shits and giggles.
“Dromeo, Dromeo! Wherefore art thou Dromeo?” “……..I’m RIGHT HERE” “NO I’M ASKING YOU WHY IS YOUR NAME DROMEO” “Oh cause Romeo is my twin and - yeah no it doesn’t make any sense”
Sir John bursting on the stage shouting “A WHORE, A WHORE! MY KINGDOM FOR A WHORE”
Hamlet is constantly mocked by everyone for being so fucking indecisive
he tries to tell is monologue but they cut him and make him say stupid puns
*puck puts a toupee on the skull* “Toupee or not toupee, that is the question”
tons of UST between Hamlet and Lady Macbeth
Lady Macbeth: “
I have given suck, and know How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me. I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums And dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.” Hamlet: “…holy crap”
she asks him to stop mopping about and, quote, to “take some mental viagra”
Ariel (Shakespeare’s, not Disney’s, although it wouldn’t matter cause “Disney’s basically modern day Shakespeare” “no he isn’t! don’t tell me disney wrote the story of a young prince whose father gets killed by his evil uncle!” “the lion king” “okay bad example”) is in it and she’s Puck worst ennemy. She narrates the story with him
LAMPSHADE HANGING. SO. MUCH. LAMPSHADE HANGING.
Richard III is trying to find a girlfriend and Puck plays the matchmaker. Dickie plays the ukulele to Beatrice (who is not impressed)
it gets weird(er). Puck asks the Weird Sister “WHAT’S UP, WITCHES” ; Prospero looks like AVPM Dumbledore.
They reenact the Tempest with a blue drape and water guns (they splash the audience as well because “screw them”
IT’S TIME FOR ACT TWO AND IT’S STARTS WITH SOME GAY
Juliet is lost in the woods and find Beatrice and Catherine.
They are very much together and teach Juliet how to curse at men (”YAASSSSS JULIET”)
this brilliant bit:
“I see men are not in your book.” “If they were, I’d burn my study”
(Juliet most vile insult is lawyer)
Cleopatra, Oberon and cie arrive and shit happens
Cleo falls in love with Bottom cause “who does not love a nice ass ;) ;)”
Ceasar kills Hamlet and Lady Macbeth thinks it’s hot “Is it your dagger I feel?” “EHYOOOO”
Rich III turns magically into Rich II, but then back into Rich III
“One day you’re at the top, and the next back at the bottom. A bit like Leicester City.”
Puck gets killed at the end but is brought back to life by Tinkerbe-Ariel and the audience as they clap
did i mention all of these were played by only 3 guys and a box of props?
Fucking Willy Shakes included himself in the play (”WE ARE NOT WORTHY, WE ARE NOT WORTHY”)
Pairing: E-2 Harrison Wells/Reader; Harrison Wells & Reader
Credit: Personal imagine
A/N: When I wrote this, I wasn’t sure how the relationship would play out but reading it over again, it could read as a slow burn scenario. The inspiration for this came from a scene in Leverage.
looked up and frowned as he heard the tell-tale sounds of unwanted crutches
clicking towards the Cortex. Sure enough, you were hobbling into the Cortex
from the infirmary, having obviously made your escape from Caitlin’s watchful
eyes. “I thought Snow had you on lock-down?” he asked as you let yourself fall
into Cisco’s chair with a small whimper.
went home hours ago and I needed to get out of there. Besides, it’s just a
sprained knee,” you said idly, propping your bum leg on a stool and grabbing
the nearest keyboard. Harrison looked down at the leg that been locked in a
brace for over a week since the last metahuman attack left you injured.
tore the ACL in that knee,” he reminded, remembering the panic he felt seeing
you clutching your leg and fighting back tears.
a sprain,” you retorted, narrowing your eyes at the computer screen. Harrison
tossed his screwdriver aside and walked over to the computer station to yank
the wireless keyboard from you. “Hey!”
you even take your pain pills?” he glared, holding the keyboard out of reach.
You made to reach forward and grab it from him when your bum leg shifted. White
hot daggers of pain stabbed on either side of your knee and you fell back into
the seat with a softly hissed curse and a grimace. “I take that as a no as
well. Do you ever listen to anyone about anything?”
glaring at the keyboard he was keeping away from you, you instead grabbed the
water bottle sitting next to you (pretty sure it was Harrison’s) and took a
drink from it. “Can’t take anything that will slow me down,” you countered. “Gotta
be sharp, on the quick, can’t get attached to anything I can’t walk away from
in 30 seconds when I feel the heat coming around the corner.”
awkward silence followed as Harrison stared at you with an amused look.
“Did…did you just quote Heat?” You
pointedly ignored the slight blush coloring your cheeks.
hacked into your Netflix queue and watched it three times.” You thought a
moment. “No…four.” You looked back up to see him staring at you with a raised
eyebrow. “Told you I was going stir-crazy.”
think?” Setting the keyboard on the table, he rubbed his tired eyes from under
his glasses and sighed. “You need to rest and let your leg heal, Y/N. You’re
not Barry, you don’t have regenerative healing abilities. We can get by without
you for the time being.”
eyes fell to your lap and the stabilizing brace on your leg. “That’s what I’m
afraid of,” you whispered, remembering the events that led up to your knee
wait a minute, that’s not what I meant, Y/N,” Harrison stated. “Do you really
think you’re not an important part of this team? Since you’ve been here, I’ve
seen you reprogram the security systems of this lab, code a metahuman tracking
program, and hack into government firewalls for vital information we need.
Hell, I sat beside you on Earth-2 and watched you hack military satellites so we
could nail down where Zoom’s lair was. Without you, we wouldn’t have been able
to find my daughter or Zoom. I don’t know what this team would do without you.”
Cupping your face in his hands, he continued, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
brighter as you reached up and held his wrist. “I’m still going stir-crazy,”
you added. Harrison smiled and nodded.
talk to Caitlin and see if she can’t lift the restrictions a bit. Meanwhile, since
you’ve pilfered through my queue, think you can do the same to someone else’s
queue?” You grinned at the mischievous smile on Harrison’s lips.
I could hack into the Queen of England’s Netflix queue,” you boasted, grabbing
your crutches. Harrison shook his head, though the smile stayed as he helped you
up without pain.
The Orphan Queen is actually sort of like ToG. It follow Wilhelmina, who with her best friend has become a spy in the castle that was once her home trying to take back the throne with her group the Ospreys. There is some really cool magic, but anyone with it is hunted down by a (hot) vigilante named Black Dagger. I suck at summaries but it's actually really good? Idk no one has read it I just want someone to join the very small fandom
Okay this sounds interesting! I’ll definitely check it out! Thank for the summary :)
“A one-shot where (y/n) has been dating Andy for a while, and she really likes him, but his tattoos for his ex upset her? She doesn’t say anything at first, but eventually she just kind of freaks about it?”
I love tattoos, just saying, this isn’t related to the one shot. I just love tattoos.
*Insert Theme Song*
(If only I had one)
Anyway, that’s some nonsense, enjoy the story.
Hearts for Beatles References ^.^
(Y/N) - Your Name
“I wanna hold your haaaand, I wanna hold your hand.” Andy sang to you as you walked through a park, not caring that people were looking at you.
“I want to hold you haaaaaand.” He screamed, making a little kid on a swing set look close to tears. You laughed and smacked his arm playfully.
“Honey, you’re scaring the children.” You told him, not exactly sure who, or even if, you were trying to imitate someone, but letting yourself make the possible imitation anyway.
“Fuck the children.” He said and started laughing. You loved when his care free side came forward. Sure, he was always fun to be around, but this lack of inhibitions, and just beautiful playfulness was one of your favorite pieces of him.
“That’s not legal, Andy, you know that.” You giggled, and he whined.
“But (Y/N),” He pouted before leaning closer to you.
“I wanna hold your hand.” He whispered into your ear, and you laughed, looking down at your intertwined hands. You saw the tattoo on his hand that was a nod to his previous girlfriend, and you felt all the happiness instantly drain out of you. You tried to push back the impending sorrow, but you weren’t sure you could do it this time. You had known that he had the tattoo, and various others, dedicated to her from their relationship, and you’d said they didn’t bother you, and usually they didn’t, just a little twinge, or a slightly ache, but right then it felt like someone was piercing your heart with a freshly forged dagger, still hot and sharp, and causing you searing pain right in the center of your chest. You eyes watered, and you wondered if he had had times like this with her, if he’d sung to her the way he did to you, if you were as fun as she was when he was acting like this.
Your happy, light couldn’t be brought back, you were past the point of no return, and on the verge of a total break down.
“Hey, (Y/N), what’s wrong?” he asked, and you kicked yourself for making him serious again. He deserved to be happy, not brought down by you and your sadness. You’d bet that she never brought him down. You bet he never held him back the way that you obviously did. You felt the tears start to roll down your cheeks, and you had to force yourself not to sob.
“Hey, hey.” He said, taking you into his arms and holding you close. He started stroking your hair soothingly, murmuring and cooing to you. “What’s wrong, babe? Come on, we were having such a fun time. Whatever it is just don’t think about it, we can deal with it later, baby.” He whispered, and you clutched the front of his shirt before beginning to sob in earnest.
“I’m sorry, Andy.” You told him, hiccupping. “Please, don’t hate me.” She whispered. “I’m sorry.” You sobbed, and he cooed at you.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, babe, I could never hate you, you’re my everything.” He whispered against your ear. “You never have to apologize for no reason, babe. Don’t be silly.” He cooed to you, but that only made you sob harder.
“You never had to do this with her, I bet. You deserve so much better than me, Andy.” You told him, and he pulled away slightly.
“Whoa, where is all that coming from?” He asked and you just shook your head.
“You deserve so much better than me.” You kept saying over and over again.
“(Y/N).” He said sternly, shutting you up. “I don’t want anything ‘better’. If there is someone better out there I don’t want them, not now, and not ever, what would make you think anything different?” He asked you softly with those soul gazing eyes.
“It’s just, you have all those tattoos, and your relationship with her was so good, I can’t replace her Andy, she’s so much better than me.” You croaked out around the building wave of fresh tears.
“Oh, (Y/N).” He cooed, bringing you back to his chest to hug you tighter. “(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N).” he said shaking his head. “I didn’t know they bothered you so much.” He murmured against your forehead. “You should’ve told me something.”
“I- I don’t have the right to do that. They’re you’re tattoos, it’s your body, I can’t just tell you to alter it.” You said through the thickness of your tears.
“You’re too good for me.” He whispered, kissing your head and then moving back to look into your eyes. “Tomorrow we can go get a tattoo together, okay?” He said, kissing your nose. “You silly girl. When something makes you unhappy you need to tell me, (Y/N), I can’t fix a problem I don’t know about.”
“I love you Andy.” You mumbled, collapsing against his chest.
“Well I don’t know about you, but I just wanna hold your hand.” He murmured, kissing your head.
Rated: T for
violence, possibly graphic imagery, human immolation, and harsh language.
NaLu, Gratsu (brotp), GrayLu (brotp)
A/N: Final entry for Angst Week! *cheers* Hope this is okay! Pretend this is a follow-up of my Day 3 entry for extra angsty goodness.:3
Gray slammed against the opposite rock
wall so hard that it disintegrated into a pile of pebbles and boulders. It was
enough to nearly knock the breath out of him completely, and he hardly had to
chance to catch it again before his aggressor spoke.
“Stand, Devil Slayer.” He stepped
forward and beckoned to Gray’s crumpled form next to what used to be the wall
as a challenge. “Prove to me that the gift bestowed upon you by your traitorous
corpse of a father actually has bearings against my power.”
The ice wizard could only grit his teeth
and curl his fingers into fists in response, still too rattled to try and pick
himself off the ground again. He still had a difficult time believing that this
was actually happening, no matter how many times he got knocked down.
had been E.N.D.? This whole time?
demon I’ve been looking for in order to destroy to avenge my father…was him all along?!
The whole concept confused him. What was
going on here, exactly? How exactly had this happened? All that had happened
once Gray had finally found the book was that it had inadvertently fallen open,
and then…something had happened to
Natsu. Something had happened to him—the book was gone now—and he wasn’t Natsu
A whole flurry of emotions just about
tore him apart from the inside. Overwhelming guilt wracked his battered body
and weary soul, because while he couldn’t understand what had happened, he only knew too well why it had occurred.
So imagines involveing MM guys + V with them reacting+comforting MC crying in their sleep cuz nightmare. Could be about anything but when you do 7 specifically, could the nightmare be about unknown? The rest can be made up, normal random horror nightmare or nightmare based on something that happened to MC which you could also make up. I don't know, I just like angst fluff
This might get a bit repetitive because it’s difficult to come up with different situations for five people about this specific thing ^^; but I hope I did okay!
No…no. MC could hear Yoosung’s screams ringing in their ears, his pained cries stabbing red hot daggers right through their chest. “It’s your fault,” whispered a voice behind them, and MC whirled around to see Yoosung, his eyes gouged out and dripping blood. “It’s your fault I’m like this,” whimpered Yoosung, his fingers lifted to his eyes to touch the black holes that once housed bright purple light– MC jerked awake, sweat beading on their forehead, chest heaving. Behind their eyelids, all they could see was the dead face of eyeless Yoosung. Was it their fault that Yoosung’s eye had gotten injured…? “MC? Are you alright?” A rumpled Yoosung was lifting himself up, leaning on an elbow. The moonlight shone directly on his eyes, those perfect eyes, one blank and less bright as the other, but still there. Just the sight (ha) made MC’s heart slow and they began to relax a bit, rolling onto their side to tuck themselves into Yoosung’s chest. “Sorry,” they murmured. “I had a nightmare.” Yoosung wrapped his arms around them, asking them about it and helping them get back to sleep, running a hand soothingly down their back.
He was being taken away by Unknown. His brother. He was gone. He was shot. He was bleeding. He was captured. He was a slave for Mint Eye. There were flashes of all these horrible things, and MC had to watch them all take place, tears building in their eyes at the pain on Seven’s face in every single scenario. And they were all because MC couldn’t help him. The distorted voice of Unknown, Seven’s brother, came through to them, loud and clear– “I’m going to kill you, Luciel.” Though MC was slow to wake up, the tears that slid down their cheeks down onto the pillow were fast and hot. A sob built up in their chest and they couldn’t stop it from slipping out, alerting Seven, who was still on his phone. “MC? Was… was that..?” At the sight of tears, he was immediately touching their arm, throwing his phone to the side. He managed to get them into his arms, stroking their hair as they cried at the fear that they would have lost Seven, that he could have sacrificed himself for them, that he could have died. Terrified by the way MC was blubbering, Seven kept asking what was wrong, what happened. “I almost lost you,” they managed to whimper. Somehow, seven knew what they meant, and he just pulled them closer, kissing the top of their head almost constantly, telling them that he was there, he was real, he was with them and he would never leave. After MC calmed down, he put on anime, because who could be sad with anime? His heart swelled after he caught sight of MC fast asleep in his arms as Naruto screamed about being the Hokage in the background.
“I’m so sorry,” said the doctor. It was the worst words that any one person had to hear in a hospital. “But we lost him. The crash…it was too much. He’s gone.” A cold sweat drenched MC’s whole body as they realized that Zen was dead. A motorcycle accident. Because they had asked him to go buy ice cream at ten o’clock at night, because they had been so selfish, because they hadn’t gone with him. And now he was gone. And it was their fault. The thought was so heartbreaking that it wrenched MC back into awakeness, heart clenching as they realized their pillow was damp with tears. MC had been sick, so they went to bed earlier than Zen, sneezing as he promised that he would be there later. The space next to them was empty and their palms began to sweat at the memory, at the words, ‘’He’s gone.” Leaping out of the bed, MC hurriedly wiped their tears, not even bothering with a robe before they stumbled into the living room, body relaxing when they saw Zen sitting in an armchair, lips moving soundlessly as he read a script. Unable to not touch him after a nightmare like that, MC crossed the room, throwing themselves onto Zen’s lap. He was startled to have a lapful of MC, but he quickly adjusted to their weight, wrapping his arms around them. The two stayed like that for awhile, Zen humming softly before they fell asleep together.
“You’re not what I’m looking for.” The words were said with a clinical, cut throat tone– it was the voice of someone who was cutting their losses, realizing what wasn’t going to give them any gain. It was the voice of Jumin Han, and he was breaking up with MC. “I just can’t see myself being with you. I’m sorry if this hurts you.” MC couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but watch as Jumin turned and left without another word, never looking back. “Wait!” MC finally was able to shout, but he didn’t even pause. A high, thrilling sound startled MC out of their nightmare, echoing through the spacious room. After a few moments of confusion, they realized that it was their phone ringing, and they blindly reached for it, answering without bothering to see who it was. “Hello?” “Hello, my love.” It was the voice that they had just heard in their dream– but this voice was warm, full of love and care. just the words lifted their heart, and they were sure that what happened in their dream would never become a reality. Just to double check, they told Jumin about their dream, feeling a bit silly, but he was quick to reassure them that he loved them. “I would never leave you. You’re the only one for me.” Jumin promised to stay on the phone until MC fell asleep, and as soon as he heard their even breathing, he smiled and hung up, sending them a text. ‘goodnight, my love. sleep well.’
V: (okay i’m apologizing in advice. this is really angsty with NO happy ending. I AM SO SORRY. also tw for drowning.)
They were on a boat. The waves were ten feet high, crashing into the fragile wood, slopping water over the edges so that it swirled around their feet. “V,” MC cried, clinging to his arms, staring into the eyes that matched the waves that assailed them. “V, are we safe?” “No, we’re not,” he responded, turning his eyes to the horizon where black storm clouds brewed. Anxiety rose in MC’s throat at the blank look on V’s face, like he had already given up. “But if we stay together, if we work together, we can survive, right?” The tone of hope in MC’s voice did nothing to help V– he just turned back towards them, a sad smile curving his lips before he leaned in to press that smile against MC’s mouth. For some reason, they felt like they needed to cherish that kiss, they felt like they needed to keep it close to them forever. Then the boat was overturned by a large wave, larger than the rest, and they were both thrown into the unrelenting ocean, MC’s body getting buffeted by the strong current. As they opened their mouth to scream, water flooded in, and they couldn’t see V… Everything went black. Then they shot up, awake, breath quick in their lungs, heart threatening to beat out of their chest. It seemed like the scent of salt lingered in the air, like it clung to MC’s skin. They turned to the spot next to them on the bed, recognizing that it was empty, knowing that it always would be. Closing their eyes, MC remembered the gunshot, the blood, the anguish on V’s face. MC realized that the nightmare was not what they had woken up from– it was what they were living.
(Set up: Zombie Survival D&D 3.5 game. The main character of this story is a Dragonborn of Bahamut fist fighter. He’s a good natured fellow, and he’s in a group with some other players and some NPCs, one of which is a Ninja. They recently got off a fight, where the ninja was bitten, and are now resting inside the remains of a church)
Dragonborn: So, how is the wound? *Ninja unwraps his makeshift bandage, revealing a bloody wound starting to rot* Ninja: Not pretty, but I wont die Dragonborn: *Draws dagger* Lemme fix that for you *Dragonborn gets some distance, and spits fire on the dagger to heat it up* *Dragonborn rolls Heal to cauterize the wound* *Dragonborn rolls 1* DM: Well…. when walking back towards the Ninja, you trip on some of the ruin’s rocks, and you stab the hot dagger into the hole in the Ninja’s throat, ending his misery. The wound is now closed and not rotting anymore, at least.
THE THINGS OUR MOTHERS TELL US by Dhonielle Clayton
1. Don’t wear so much makeup, you don’t want to attract unnecessary attention.
2. Be in before the street lamps turn on. There’s trouble in the dark.
3. A man can lay down in the ditch for a week and get up clean, but if you lay in it for an hour, you get up with fleas.
4. Your skirt is too short. Don’t you feel a breeze?
5. Ladies cross their legs. Always!
I was thirteen when Momma gave me the dagger. She held it up in the window and let the light wink across the blade. It was so sharp I thought she could cut the sunlight. Chop it into tiny slivers like pats of butter.
“Baby, you gotta wear this. Tuck it into you garter,” she said.
“But why?” I watched her twirl it between her fingers, wincing every time the blade almost cut into her flesh.
“The world is dangerous. The women in our family been carrying this dagger for decades.” She pointed it at me like a finger. “Take it.”
It was heavy in my hands. The handle thick and carved and smooth.
“What do I have to do with it?”
“Keep it close. Use it if you just.”
“But I don’t know how to use it.”
“You’ll know when you have to. Women feel these things. How to keep themselves alive.”
“I’m not a woman yet.” I ran my finger across the blade, wondering how deep I had to press until it cut me.
“Don’t be afraid of it.” She took it from me, flipped my arm over and ran the cool blade across the inside of my arm. “If you’re too scared, you won’t use it.”
She pushed the tip into my skin. The silver sinking beneath the brown. The blood welled up like glittering rubies.
“Don’t cry,” she said as tears dropped down my cheeks. “Women shed so many tears. They let the water out of their bodies when they should keep it in. For protection. Water is the strongest thing in the world.”
“But, I’m not a woman yet, momma.”
“You will bleed again soon.”
1. Don’t give them a reason to look.
2. Smiling sends the wrong signal. Don’t be overly friendly.
3. Men cannot control themselves.
4. The worst thing you can be called is a tease.
I didn’t listen to Mama.
Jacob’s mouth tastes like a cherry. He loves to steal his little sister’s kiddie lipglosses that taste like fruit or bubblegum, collecting them like superhero cards to line up in his sock drawer.
Light flashes in bursts as the photo booth takes pictures of us. I can see them through my eyelids. His hands disappear inside my hair, and mine in his. He tugs the stands a little until I moan.
I pull back, my lips swollen with the heat of his and mine, and sometimes I forget that our mouths aren’t joined permanently as one. That I have to breathe.
I look at him. Most people who don’t look closely will miss the tiny freckles he has all across his nose like perfect little ants. His legs tangle with mine. And I know the pictures will show that we’re a mess of parts, and all over each other.
“Why’d you stop?” he whispers.
“I hear people outside waiting to take a turn in the booth.” I take the film from the tiny slot under the camera screen. A long strip of four snapshots. He looks at the pictures of us kissing, and he sighs. Then, he rips it in half.
“I wanted to keep those,” I say.
“You know we can’t.” He softens his words with another kiss. He rubs his fingers across them. “We can’t risk it.”
I put my head in the nook of his shoulder.
I push the camera button and it flashes again. Another picture drops into the slot. He rips this one, too.
“Jacob, stop,” I say.
“You know we can’t,” he says. “Your mom.”
“Right.” I slip the evidence of us into my pocket anyways. He fishes it out of my pocket.
“But when – ” He erases my words with another kiss, pressing his tongue further, deeper into my mouth.
I let him sweep away the questions I always ask:
When should I stop lying to Momma?
Will we always be a secret?
He takes a breath.
And usually, this works. He kisses me until I’m almost drunk on it.
The light buzz of a headache.
Heart ready to burst.
A tiny drum beating between my legs.
But not tonight.
I pull away.
He leans toward my mouth again. I turn my cheek. I feel the frown he makes against my skin.
“Do you want to?”
“I don’t know.”
“We’ve been together for three years,” he says. In school we smile closed-mouth smiles at each other, sneak away for lunch under the courtyard trees when the teacher’s aren’t looking, and make excuses to find each other during the day. He’d sneak up on me in the art studio, and run his fingers along the back of my neck to let me know he was there. But I could always smell him when he’d get near.
“And we’ll be together forever. Even after we graduate. We’ll leave this town,” he replies, his hands finding mine, slipping into them so neatly and perfectly like a pair of gloves he was meant to wear.
“As a secret?”
“No.” He nibbles my earlobe. “Do you want to?”
“Are we ready?”
“I think so. You don’t?” he says.
“I don’t know.”
“I want you.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready.”
“How long will it take?”
I kiss him again.
1. Don’t let your mouth write a check, you can’t cash.
2. Men speak to some women like whores and others like princesses. You want to be the later.
3. No means no, but sometimes it doesn’t. They don’t hear you, no matter how loud you scream.
“Where have you been?” Momma yells as soon as I close the front door.
She rushes up, and is so close to me that I smell the whisky she’s been drinking. Her long fingers grab hold of my chin. She turns my head like I’m a doll. “Your lips are swollen.”
I yank away and wipe my mouth. They still tingle with the memory of Jacob’s kiss.
“I ate something hot.”
She circles me, then leans in to sniff. “You don’t smell like yourself.”
“And what does that smell like?”
“Are sassing me?”
“Where’s your dagger?”
I pat my leg.
“Good,” she grunts.
She points to the ceiling. I retreat to my room.
1. Nice girls don’t put out.
2. Nice girls wait until marriage.
“You ready?” Jacob’s breath hits my neck. It sends a shiver across my skin.
I’m in my bra and panties, and he’s in his boxers. I’ve never seen this much of him. I’ve never let anyone see this much of me.
Momma’s dagger is still in a lace garter belt around my left leg. The cool blade warms alongside my skin.
“I’m not sure.”
He traces his finger along my nose, then over my mouth.
“What’s not to be sure of?”
“We’ve known each other since we were eight, and we’ve been together for so long.”
He leaves a trail of kisses along my neck. My eyes close, and my heart flutters.
“So, what’s the hesitation?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if we just tried? Just once.” His blue eyes search for eye contact.
He runs his hands down to my waist. His fingers hook the side of my underwear, then down my leg toward the dagger. My skin warms beneath his touch. “You going to take this off?”
“I only take it off to shower.” Momma’s face sears into my head. I shouldn’t be doing this. She wouldn’t approve.
“So, do you want to?”
“Okay,” I whisper. The word comes out so soft, it almost doesn’t exist.
A smile plays over his lips. He shimmies out of his boxers. I look away. He tries to take off my underwear.
“Don’t. Leave it on.”
“Okay,” he says, perching over me.
I gaze at his face. One that I know so well. My pulse races.
He pulls my underwear to the side. I take a deep breath and hold it. He tries to push himself inside me.
I clench and put a hand to his chest. “I’m scared.”
“It’s going to be okay.”
He tries again. My knees push in, trying to block him. He flattens them.
“You’re fighting me.”
“I…I’m…I don’t think we’re ready.”
“I’m ready.” He pushes harder.
My hand twitches at my side. My fingers inching closer and closer to the dagger. It’s hot now. The metal holding onto all of our heat. I’ve never used it before. And in this moment, I wonder how many times Momma has.
“Just let me try,” he says, pinning me.
“We should stop.”
“One time, Winnie. Just once.” His voice pleads. He kisses me hard, suffocating my words.
I slip the dagger from my leg and touch it to his throat.
A woman is a flower. Don’t give all your petals away.
The third and final part
of the sugary fluffmonster that is Five Years’ Time is done, guys! And
since I take my musical inspiration very literally,
there’s an actual trip to the zoo. (I recommend reading Parts 1 and 2 first.)
Octavia’s wedding, things change between Clarke and Bellamy. He
wouldn’t say they’re friends exactly, but they’re not actively trying
to avoid each other anymore either. They even manage to cooperate
when they’re helping Octavia move out of the apartment she shares
with Clarke. Since Octavia is five months pregnant, Lincoln has
thrown out his back two days earlier and their friends can’t make it
that weekend for various reasons, Clarke and Bellamy pretty much do
the whole thing on their own.Bellamy
has helped a few people move over the years, but never has he had to
shout so much. And yet, they get the whole thing done within a few hours.
For a while after that,
they don’t see much of each other, since Bellamy doesn’t really have
a reason to come by the apartment where Clarke lives alone now. That changes
when Allie is born, because Clarke is nothing if not
diligent in her responsibilities as a godmother, and Bellamy is
determined to be the best uncle any kid could wish for. Between
Lincoln’s outlandish installation art and Octavia’s determination to
become the youngest female CEO of a Fortune 500 company, Bellamy
thinks the kid needs at least one normal family member.
And without Bellamy even
noticing, Clarke somehow finds her way not only into Octavia’s heart
but into his own. When they meet in church for Allie’s christening,
Clarke gives him such a bright smile that he quickly shoots out a
barb about not dropping her goddaughter so she doesn’t see him blush.
It’s not even that he’s actually that happy to see her; hell,
he’s here with his girlfriend of three months who’s sweet and hot and
currently glaring daggers at Clarke. But in her flowery summer dress,
holding little Allie and smiling brighter than the sun, Clarke looks
a far cry from the drunk, sobbing mess he found in her kitchen two
years ago. That is all, really – she’s family now, apparently, and
Bellamy wants his family to be happy. (The queasy feeling in his
stomach has definitely nothing to do with the fact that he still
vividly remembers the time they bumped into each other under the
mistletoe last Christmas and Octavia led all of their friends into a
chant of “Kiss, kiss, kiss” until they did.)