i can listen to him saying coca cola all day long

Romance, Part One

There’s been a prompt in my inbox for quite some time, imploring me to write a bit of romance. Thing is, I’ve never even attempted romance. Not even once. But hell, it’s a chance to try something new. And I tried for you, anon. I tried my damnedest. So here goes. 

(And many thanks to the immensely talented @edierone​ for her insight and suggestions!)

Summary: “And how exactly would you romance me, then? You know. Just so I don’t mix you up with any more shapeshifters.” 

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Loathing [b.b] (5/10)

Originally posted by itsjustmycrazyvibe

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Series Title: Loathing (AU)
Fandom: MCU
Characters: Bucky Barnes x female!reader, Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers, mentions of Sam Wilson
Warnings: Alternate Universe, minor swearing
Word Count: 2,867
Requested: No
Short Description: You try to process the news Steve gave you as Bucky tries to figure out how to tell you himself; not realising that you already know he’s in love with you. Nat sets you up on a blind date with another guy and it doesn’t go the way you expected it too.

Disclaimer: not my gif

[Y/N] = your first name

Bucky told me he was in love with you.” Steve had told you, smiling giddily. Obviously, he was drunk. “I have no idea why I hadn’t suspected it.” Steve went on, still looking satisfied with himself. “I mean, he’s always been protective of you. Despite all of the constant tormenting, of course.” 

“Stevie, I think you’re drunk.” You told your older brother gently, brows folded together with concern. “Bucky isn’t in love with me. I mean, you have to be pretty damn drunk to think that he is.” You added, mostly to yourself as you pondered it over.

“He admitted it just three days ago!” Steve exclaimed, looking offended that you would assume he was lying. His brows were pulled together as he looked you up and down, shaking his head slightly as if he couldn’t believe you. The sight was humorous, but you didn’t feel amused. “Three! That’s like… one more than two.” He added, looking cross with you.

This reaction was even more comical, but you weren’t in the mood to smile at that point. “Steve…” you said his name, annunciating the syllable very carefully as you forced him to pay meticulous attention to your words. “I think you’ve told me something that you weren’t supposed to.” You told him in a cautious tone. “If you’re sure that what you’re saying is true.”

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There once was a boy named Gimmesome Roy. He was nothing like me or you.
‘Cause laying back and getting high was all he cared to do.
As a kid, he sat in the cellar, sniffing airplane glue.
And then he smoked bananas – which was then the thing to do.
He tried aspirin in Coca-Cola, breathed helium on the sly,
And his life was just one endless search to find that perfect high.
But grass just made him want to lay back and eat chocolate-chip pizza all night,
And the great things he wrote while he was stoned looked like shit in the morning light.
And speed just made him rap all day, reds just laid him back,
And Cocaine Rose was sweet to his nose, but the price nearly broke his back.
He tried PCP and THC, but they didn’t quite do the trick,
And poppers nearly blew his heart and mushrooms made him sick.
Acid made him see the light, but he couldn’t remember it long.
And hashish was just a little too weak, and smack was a lot too strong,
And Quaaludes made him stumble, and booze just made him cry,
Till he heard of a cat named Baba Fats who knew of the perfect high.
babafats.jpg (27048 bytes)

Now, Baba Fats was a hermit cat who lived up in Nepal,
High on a craggy mountaintop, up a sheer and icy wall.
“But hell,” says Roy, “I’m a healthy boy, and I’ll crawl or climb or fly,
But I’ll find that guru who’ll give me the clue as to what’s the perfect high.”
So out and off goes Gimmesome Roy to the land that knows no time,
Up a trail no man could conquer to a cliff no man could climb.
For fourteen years he tries that cliff, then back down again he slides
Then sits – and cries – and climbs again, pursuing the perfect high.
He’s grinding his teeth, he’s coughing blood, he’s aching and shaking and weak,
As starving and sore and bleeding and tore, he reaches the mountain peak.
And his eyes blink red like a snow-blind wolf, and he snarls the snarl of a rat,
As there in perfect repose and wearing no clothes – sits the godlike Baba Fats.

“What’s happening, Fats?” says Roy with joy, “I’ve come to state my biz.
I hear you’re hip to the perfect trip. Please tell me what it is.
For you can see,” says Roy to he, “that I’m about to die,
So for my last ride, Fats, how can I achieve the perfect high?”
“Well, dog my cats!” says Baba Fats. “here’s one more burnt-out soul,
Who’s looking for some alchemist to turn his trip to gold.
But you won’t find it in no dealer’s stash, or on no druggist’s shelf.
Son, if you would seek the perfect high – find it in yourself.”

“Why, you jive motherfucker!” screamed Gimmesome Roy, “I’ve climbed through rain and sleet,
I’ve lost three fingers off my hands and four toes off my feet!
I’ve braved the lair of the polar bear and tasted the maggot’s kiss.
Now, you tell me the high is in myself. What kind of shit is this?
My ears 'fore they froze off,” says Roy, “had heard all kind of crap,
But I didn’t climb for fourteen years to listen to that sophomore rap.
And I didn’t crawl up here to hear that the high is on the natch,
So you tell me where the real stuff is or I’ll kill your guru ass!”

“Ok, OK,” says Baba Fats, “you’re forcing it out of me.
There is a land beyond the sun that’s known as Zaboli.
A wretched land of stone and sand where snakes and buzzards scream,
And in this devil’s garden blooms the mystic Tzu-Tzu tree.
And every ten years it blooms one flower as white as the Key West sky,
And he who eats of the Tzu-Tzu flower will know the perfect high.
For the rush comes on like a tidal wave and it hits like the blazing sun.
And the high, it lasts a lifetime and the down don’t ever come.
But the Zaboli land is ruled by a giant who stands twelve cubits high.
With eyes of red in his hundred heads, he waits for the passers-by.
And you must slay the red-eyed giant, and swim the River of Slime,
Where the mucous beasts, they wait to feast on those who journey by.
And if you survive the giant and the beasts and swim that slimy sea,
There’s a blood-drinking witch who sharpens her teeth as she guards that Tzu-Tzu tree.”
“To hell with your witches and giants,” laughs Roy. “To hell with the beasts of the sea.
As long as the Tzu-Tzu flower blooms, some hope still blooms for me.”
And with tears of joy in his snow-blind eye, Roy hands the guru a five,
Then back down the icy mountain he crawls, pursuing that perfect high.

“Well, that is that,” says Baba Fats, sitting back down on his stone,
Facing another thousand years of talking to God alone.
“It seems, Lord”, says Fats, “it’s always the same, old men or bright-eyed youth,
It’s always easier to sell them some shit than it is to give them the truth.”

—  Shel Silverstein’s “The Perfect High” 

snapped-chopstick  asked:

Hey cutie! Can I get some kiridai x fem reader fluff? With exams coming up I really use the stress relief. Thanks love!

SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT!

Anyway, I hope your exams went well~!


Hanamiya

‘Cuddle with me s/o.’ Hanamiya stated and you only looked at him speechless. After a big shock nervousness took over your body and you thought about every nasty thing he wanted to do to you tonight, but before you could reject his offer and run away to another country, he put his muscular arms around your body and squeezd  it GENTLY. 

Your body froze as your breath stucked in your throat. You felt small drops of sweat on your forehead when he moved his head and put it on your stomach. 

‘So, w-what’s up?’ You tried to chill out make yourself comfortable. 

It wasn’t your fault, Hanamiya wasn’t exacly a lovely-doney type. He was a rough partner most of the time, although you loved him to the moon and back. Despite his difficult personality, you just knew he loved you too. 

‘Are you perhaps stressed? Don’t be, I’m not planning anything evil tonight.’ He told you and kissed your belly, then he kissed your throat and after that he left several sweet kisses on your face. It was unusual, but made your heart skipped faster than ever. 

'I love you.’ You said before you could stop yourself. Your face became red, making him chuckle. 

’…I love you too.’ He whispered in your ear with almost invisible smile. 

You were aware of the fact that situation like that one won’t be happening anytime soon, but you couldn’t help but enjoy your little heaven with Makoto, your lover.


Hara

'I can’t wait to see them live!’ You said, holding your boyfriend’s hand tighlty in your smaller one. He smirked at your exitement and checked out your beautiful, bare legs. When you noticed it, you scolded him and then you went to get your tickets checked by security. Hara bought them for your two-years anniversary. At first no one believed that you would last that long, but you did, and you couldn’t be more happier. He was too, and he knew that he won’t let you go in the near future.

'Well, I’m exited too. Their new album is really good.’ He said, squeezing your hand. He was afraid that you would lost each other in the crowd.

'Look! They are coming!’ You exclaimed upon seeing the band.

-

Concert was amazing for the two of you, since music was one of your hobbies, and you always enjoyed being with each other. It was also one of the most romantic dates, you never thought, you will have with him. You danced to a few songs, hugged and kissed. It was magical, just like your weird and crazy relationship. Yes, it had upsides down too, but you didn’t care at all. You were sure, that you would work everything out.

'Did you like the show, my lady?’ Hara asked, putting his arm around your shoulder.

'It was very pleasent, my lord. I hope we can repeat it sometime soon.’ You said, clutching to his warm body.

'We will see.’ He said and kissed you deeply, making you blush.

'Wait, did you just steal my bubble gum?’ You asked annoyed by that fact. He only laughed at your comment and started to run away from you.

'KAZUYA!’


Furuhashi

‘You suck at this.’ Furuhashi laughed at your pathetic tries to beat him in your favourite game. 

'No, you suck!’ You playfully sticked out your tongue on him, jumping on his lap as his pad slipped out of his hands, making you a winner. 'I WON! LO-SE-R!’ You screamed, jumping happily with a big grin on your face. 

'You cheated.’ He said with a smirk and quickly put you on his lap once again.

'Pfff, you just can’t face the fact that you are loser~!’ You laughed and tried to escape from his grasp, without any results. 'Let me go you…-you very mean person!’ You suddenly blushed at your stupidy and you wanted to just hide somwhere and die peacefully.

'Mean person? Oh God, your insults are so lame!’ Your beloved laughed and started tickling you, making you beg for mercy. But he being a complete sadist, didn’t realese so only making you giggle harder and harder. 

'Koujirou, I ca–n’t bre-th-e!’ You stomach hurt as well as your face. 'I WILL NEVER CHEAT AGAIN, I SWEAR!’ He unexpectedly stopped touching your sides, but silly and dangerous smiled appeared on his face. 

You were getting a little nervous, your boyfriend had a lot of stupid ideas in his head, he was always full of surprises, which weren’t always safe or comfortable… 

'I hope  you learned your lesson properly, but I still think you need a punishment, babe.’ He whispered in your ear, making your face red as your head became a mess. 'Let me show you.’ He throw you on his arm and made his way to your bedroom. 

Nice. 


Seto

’S/o, please focus on what I’m saying.’ Seto stated calmly looking at your furious self. 

'But I don’t get it, and I’m tired…and hungry. You are literally torturing me.’ You whined, imagining the biggest chocolate ice cream you could ever eat. 

'You are clever, I don’t understand why can’t you get it. Math is not that hard. When we finish it, we will eat.’ His words made you even more undetermined, but even though you were sleepy as hell you didn’t want to upset your already nervous boyfriend even more. 

You tried to listen as carefully as you could in your condition, but it was almost impossible. You really wanted to learn that shit, but that day was too hard for you, and your eyes wanted to close so bad. 

'Short nap wouldn’t harm anyone.’ You thought and fall asleep, just like that. Seto felt something, or rather someone, touching his arm. 

He wanted to shake you and scold you about ignoring his words, but your sleeping face calmed all his nerves and all he wanted to do now was hold you in his arms or even sleep with you. Unfortunately, he needed to finish his homework, and now yours too. He put your head on his lap and kissed your forhead. 

'Sleep well…darling.' 


Yamazaki

'Guess who came to see you, beautiful!’

'What did you just call me, Hiroshi?’ You asked your boyfriend, with annoyed face. You were sick, angry and sick again. 'And what the hell are you doing here?’ You asked burrying your head in the pillow, looking at him with your popular glare.

'Well, since you are in bad condition and you couldn’t go on a date, the date came to you! I came with food, so be thankful.’ He showed you a smile and put bags with McDonald’s cheesburgers, chips, candies, cans of coca cola and other junk but incredibly delicious food.

'I really do appreciate your gesture, but I need you to leave. It won’t be good if you get sick because of me. Besides, Hanamiya-san would kill me if you don’t attend practice.’ You said with a small frown, but worries filled your voice.

'Naaah, it is okay. I hardly ever get sick, so don’t worry and enjoy our time together.’ He answered and laid down, next to you on the bed. 'Oh, and I brang two seasons of 'Dr. House’. Wanna watch?’

'FUCK YEAY!’ You exclaimed happily as he took your laptop and turned on your favourite show.

You spend the rest of the day with him and much to your surprise he even allowed you to cuddle up to him. His reward was (of course who would suspect it) a kiss.

Maybe you should get sick more.

anonymous asked:

While we see lovely moments between Brianna and Jamie, it seems that a lot about Claire and Brianna's relationship is just assumed. Would love to see some mother-daughter bonding/moments when Brianna was growing up. Thank you for all your stories!

THIS NOTEBOOK IS THE PROPERTY OF: Brianna Ellen Randall

AGE: 13 13.5


April 17, 1962

Dear Diary,      

Mama thinks I do not hear her.

But I do.

You can hear just about anything if you listen.

The Cold War may be quiet, but the nukes are ticking beneath our feet. There’s a wall in Berlin now, and it shouts louder than the protests, than refugee fists against the concrete. It speaks over President Kennedy and his promise for a “New Frontier”. This is what rings in my ears – the quiet war of fear and distrust. It’s a lonely world where everyone must watch their back.

I hear the loneliness in Mama, too, built around her like a wall. I am the only one who watches her back.

It’s funny, really – I learned this all from her. “Intelligence belongs to those who listen,” she told me once. Her Uncle Lamb had wax moth ears and was the smartest person she’s ever known. She claims he always found the bones of kings, buried in the most unusual places.

“How do you know where they are?” Mama asked him one day. He put his ear to the ground and laughed: “I can hear their hearts beating.”

Well, I can hear Mama’s heartsong too. It sounds different from Daddy’s, skips like a scratched record. I think it’s tired – but then Mama is always a little tired. Her eyes are purple, and she’s yawning before noon. There is never enough coffee or hours in the night. I get mad when she forgets to pack my lunch, when she dozes through opening credits.

“How can you fall asleep during Hitchcock, Mama?”

“Not asleep, darling, just resting,” but her chest falls heavy and her cheekbones soften.

Mama denies it – she always does. So I test her to just to make sure.

Does Mr. Hitchcock make a cameo in Psycho?

Was Gregory Peck found guilty in Spellbound?

What is the serial killer’s nickname in Shadow of a Doubt?

Somehow, she knows the answers. Maybe she’s seen the movies already, or maybe she listens as she sleeps. Perhaps Mama is always listening – like me.

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Affection (Dean Imagine)

OMG how bout one where sam has a gf, lets say zoe, and theyre like touchy feely where as you and dean arent, so cas cnfronts you about it, then dean like french dip kisses you and you nearly do it. i know u dont do smut so can u do ike rrll smutty kissing? cheers

Heyo. Hope this is ok for you x

As you sat on the hard wooden chair in the motel room of Sam and his girlfriend, Zoe, you conversed with your good friend about meeting the boys. Zoe was across from you leaning against the counter in front of the kitchen sink, having just cleaned up her dishes from her and Sam’s not-so-romantic date night in a far from ideal motel room.

“How long has it been since you met Dean?” Zoe asked, tilting her head realizing she wasn’t aware of many details about you and Dean, where as you knew a lot about her and Sam.

“Met Dean in 2009 for the first time. I met him on a hunt, then a year later, bumped into him again and he recognized me, but i had no idea who he was” You chuckled

“He convinced me to go on a date with him and i did, he stayed in the same town as me for a while, i kinda fell for him. Then he left for a hunt, and came back a week later asking me to come with him permanently” You spoke rhythmically like you were telling a fairytale, because in some way, meeting dean was like a fairytale. Your prince charming, just like in the films.

“How long was it until Sam met me?" 

"About a month. It’s a good job we got on, imagine if we disliked each other, it would have been crazy” Zoe nodded with a smile on her lips, agreeing with your statement. Not long after you finished talking, the door opened, and Dean and Castiel walked through.

“Speak of the devil” You turned your head to look at your boyfriend, with a grin spread across your face. He walked over to you, and pecked you on the lips, then walked away.

“Not all bad i hope” He said, as his head was buried in the fridge searching for some beer, most likely. 

Shortly Sam walked through the door, with a can of coca-cola in his hand, which looked minuscule in the grip of his large paws.

“Baby” Zoe squeaked, walking over to meet Sam as he walked through the door, he wrapped his arms around her, then stuck his lips on her kissing her for far longer than the hot second that Dean kissed you.

“Calm down you two” Dean turned his face up at the smooching couple in front of him.

“I haven’t seen her in nearly two days” Sam protested, as he pulled his lips away from Zoe’s and rested his arm across her shoulders.

Castiel was stood beside the honeymoon-sized bed. Sam had played rock paper scissors for the big room with Dean, and “Always scissors Dean” Lost it, so you were stuck in the single bed with not much room, and Dean hogging all the blankets.

“Come see what i got you” Sam smiled excitedly then led Zoe out the door, not breaking contact with her. You walked over towards Cas, and sat on the bed. You took his hand in your own and squeezed it lightly as a sort of hello.

“Y/n, can i ask you a question?” Cas said planting himself to the right of you.

“Sure”

“Do you and Dean love each other?”

“Yes!  Of course, i love him”

“Why are you not like Sam and Zoe?”

“what do you mean”

“Sam and Zoe, and lots of other couples, hold hands and cuddle but you and Dean don’t make very much contact”

“I honestly don’t know why that is Cas. Dean’s just not that kind of guy”

“But are you?”

“I mean sure, i love hugs and cuddle and kisses, but Dean’s not like that, and that’s ok, he shows love in other ways, you know? He doesn’t say it or show it like they do, but if we didn’t love each other neither of us would be here together as a couple”

You looked away from Cas for a moment to look at Dean who had taken Zoe’s place leaning against the counter, with his phone in his hand. He slowly raised his head, feeling the gazes of both you and Cas on him

“Did you mention my name?” He said cluelessly. You got up and left, to go the the bathroom, whilst Cas filled him in on your conversation.

“I was discussing with y/n why you don’t show affection like Sam and Zoe” Cas started, Dean put his phone in his pocket so he could listen to Castiel.

“Because we are aware of other people in the room unlike those two” Dean tutted.

“Y/n seems to think it is because you show love in different, less obvious ways. You don’t say it, nor do you show public affection despite her liking it”

“What? Why are you such an expert on my girlfriend and I’s relationship?”

“It was just a two minute conversation. Anyway, i have to leave. Goodbye Dean” Cas left the room, with the echoing sound of his wings the only indication you had that he had left for good as soon as you walked back from the bathroom to the main room. 

Dean set down the beer that was in his hand and slowly walked towards you. You stopped in your pathway back to the bed and looked at him. he put One of his hands just below your neck, and the other on your lower back, a look of confusion spread over your face as if Dean was going to kiss you this isn’t the way he would normally stand. Suddenly in one fast swooping motion he dipped you, so that pretty much the only thing holding you up was the support from his hands on your upper body, as your legs were barley holding any weight of yours at all. A small shriek escaped from your lips, from the shock of Deans actions. Dean looked into your eyes, a pursed his lip as he though of something to say.

“I love you so damn much” He smirked. You brought both of your arms up to around his neck, and giggled a little

“I love you too”

He brought his face closer and smashed his lips to your own, you, properly appreciating the softness of his lush lips, for the first time in a long time. You recoiled by trying your best to lean your head up to lock the embrace, Dean stood you back up onto your feet, almost as fast as he brought you  down the first time, and following each of your steps he walked you into the wall, with out breaking the kiss. He let go of your hips where his hands had been, and put then both on the back of your thighs, lifting you up in the air, then encouraging you to wrap them around him as he pushed you back against the wall. His hands were on your breech, his own fingers intertwining with each other working as a seat to keep you in the air. Your tongue slowly brushed over his parted lips, stroking his own as your fingers ran from his hair, to his cheeks, where you felt the sharp prickle of his unshaved stubble against your delicate palms. As he broke away for a breath of air, with your hands on his face you guided his lips towards your neck, where he laid expert kisses, leaving behind a mark. You slid down his body, and with your hands on the scruff of his t-shirt you pulled him into you so tight there was no room for anything, except Dean’s pro hand which was guiding its way down the front of your pants. His fingers snaked past your panties and just as they made contact with your skin, you were interrupted.

“DUDE!” You heard Sam shout, you both turned your head to see him and Zoe cringing. Dean stepped away from you, but unfortunately, being discreet wasn’t Dean’s strong point, and it wasn’t until Zoe and Sam had stopped shying away when he decided to snatch his hand away from your jeans, drawing attention to what you were just about to do, or what they thought you had already done. You covered your eyes, in an attempt to hide your embarrassment and likely red face. Dean looked down at himself, noticing how obvious his boner was, making the moment even more awkward. He grabbed your hand from your face and pulled you directly in front of him, and placed a hand on each of your shoulders.

“We’re gonna go to our own room, get out of your hair” He his faced twitched into an awkward half smile, which lasted less than a second, before gently guiding you out the door, using his hands on your shoulders to push you. You avoided eye contact at all costs from the walk to the door which seemed like the the length of route 66 in your mortified state.

You and Dean walked the whole way to your room which was roughly 5 away from Sam’s in the same position, and as soon as you got through the door dean didn’t move. He leant his head close into your hear, and you felt his hot breath on your skin

“Where were we” He breathed before turning you around, and crashing his lips straight back into yours.

anonymous asked:

Will you please please pretty please write a nanny!katniss, and single uncle!peeta who's in charge of his neice? Please please

This definitely took two days longer than it should’ve. Oops.

The Nanny

Summary: Peeta’s convinced that his brother’s request for Peeta to babysit his colicky niece for the weekend is the worst idea ever… until he meets the nanny.

Rating: K+

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Klaroline AU | Crossover, Modern!AU, Frankenstein!AU [with Dr. Frankenstein!Caroline and Creature!Klaus]

New Orleans. After her fiancé Tyler’s sudden death, the young Dr. Caroline Forbes falls in a deep depression. That is, until she discovers some old diaries belonged to one of her ancestors – some study about bringing life into dead subject – and that is why she has spent the last months digging graves and stealing equipment from her hospital.

But before starting to work directly on her fiancé’s body, she decides to test her new discoveries on some corpse she has stolen from the nearby prison – where she has managed to enter as the doctor who supervises the executions. The body has belonged in life to a certain Niklaus Mikaelson – a quite dangerous person, with no relatives, or friends who would have recognize or looking for him in the case her experiment went fine.

Unfortunately, her plans change dramatically when the convict comes back alive. The man has no memories of his past life, he has actually several difficulties trying to communicate or behave like a person again: he’s like a child, a child of which Caroline feels responsible, and honestly she doesn’t think she would be capable of doing such a thing to Tyler. The man, or should she say ‘the Creature’?, is more inhuman than human, and Caroline is both awed and terrified by what she has accomplished. In the end, though, the fear wins – and she grudgingly decides to get rid of him. But she finds killing him impossible – the way he looks at her, the complete and utter trust in his eyes too honest and heartbreaking – so she ends up abandoning him somewhere in the country, confiding that he won’t be able to find his way to her again.

A year passes uneventful – Caroline hasn’t revived Tyler, instead she has slowly started to live again. She has even started dating her colleague Stefan, and the memories of her macabre experiments have been prudently concealed deep inside her mind. But one day, one day suddenly the Creature is at her door, and the nightmare she thought she had escaped is again in her life: he goes by Klaus, now – he insists that she calls him that – and he has no intention of letting her go.

***

AN. Even though it’s a Modern!AU, I’ve tried to maintain the charm of the original character [credits to Mary Shelley], so perhaps our Creature!Klaus may talk in a bit of a redundant way. Perhaps he has learned to speak in that fashion thanks to all the old literature books he has read? Anyway, hope you enjoy. Feel free to point out any typos or mistakes – no beta, unfortunately – aaaand… maybe I can be persuaded in writing a part 2. Let’s see if this is good first, though. :D

This is when they met again after the year apart.

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Michael Imagine (Wrapped Around Your Finger)

Plink. Plink. Plink.

The incessant sound at my window forces me awake. I walk to the window, cold bare feet on the hardwood floor. I poke my head out and notice the fluff of green hair, unmistakable for anything else other than my idiot friend Michael.

“This isn’t a friggin’ John Hughes movie, you jackass,” I whisper harshly to him. He simply smiles and answers,

“I wanted to be cute.”

“Well cut it out and text me like a regular human.”

“Are you coming out here or what?” His hands dig deep into the pockets of his hoodie and I sigh in reply before climbing out my window. Michael’s already sat on the swing he’s claimed as his own. He always looks too big for it, with his black skinny jean-clad legs folded beneath him. I sit in the swing next to him, taking in how his lime green hair looks almost glow-in-the-dark in the light of the moon. Michael’s always looked the face of the teenage rebellion. When we first became friends, I described him to my mum as Gerard Way and Billie Joe Armstrong’s lovechild.

I break out of my thoughts to see Michael strumming the air guitar, eyes focused down on his moving fingers.

“What are you doing?”

:“Green Day. American Idiot.”

“You’ve got the idiot part down,” I retort, watching his fingers.

“Rude.”

“Who even listens to them anymore?”

“Um, every self-respecting human being with good taste in music. Sooo, not you.”

“Right. Then again, I don’t listen to your shitty-ass garage band, so I must have some taste. What do you call yourselves again?”

“5 Seconds of Summer. It’s still a work in progress. And thank you for that.”

“Right. Good luck with that.” Michael’s at a loss for a snappy comeback, so he grabs the chain of my swing and pushes it away from him/ I stare at the ground, digging my feet in the dirt. He leans over and kisses me on the cheek before I can react. I look at him, confused, but admittedly intrigued. The only time he’s ever gotten that close is to disgustingly lick my cheek.

“What was that for?”

“I couldn’t reach your lips,” Michael shrugs. I’m not sure what to do next, so I wing it. Teenagers are allowed to ignore the repercussions of their actions, right?

“What about now?” I know what comes next, and I know it’s a bad idea, but I do it anyway. Michael leans across his and my swings. I watch his eyes watch my lips and I’m wondering if he’s looked at them this way before or if it’s just the pale moonlight, transforming him into some sort of romantic, me-loving werewolf–minus the fur. I know I should be focusing on some part of him–his green eyes or perhaps his abnormally lush red lips–but they look the same as all the other times I’ve looked into my friend’s face. I have to forcefully shut my mind off once his lips touch mine. I’m not afraid to admit I like it. I’ve heard enough of his stories of dating the girls at school to know he’s no novice in this department. He clearly knows what he’s doing, but I’m still confused about what I’m doing. Why am I kissing my best friend?

I forget for a minute when Michael’s tongue flicks across my bottom lip and I let him into my mouth. It’s the first time I’m tasting him on my tongue, and it’s significantly more different from what I’ve heard from other girls. Maybe it’s because I’ve known Michael for so long, that I can describe him perfectly–a mix of spearmint gum, Coca-Cola, and what can only be described as his personal brand…the natural taste on his tongue. My mind has been running too fast for me to remember how long we’ve been kissing and I wonder if it’s an appropriate time to break away. I’m relieved though when Michael does it first. He smiles but his eyes are asking me what I thought of it.

I put my hands in my lap and slowly rock my swing back and forth. Michael is still watching me. I don’t know when it happened, but I decide I want to do that again. My head is swimming with questions, but I push them down, like my feet do in the dirt to stop my swing.

“Michael,” I say and he turns to me again. It’s my turn to make the move and I’m not cautious like he was. My hands find his neck and pull him to me. He starts with soft kisses, but I show him I want more. He opens his mouth and I savor the moment, bottling up that taste again in an imaginary vial. Who knows when I’ll sample it again? When I show Michael how needy I am, he reciprocates it. His strong hands, which I’m used to seeing handling an Xbox controller, now grasp my waist, feeling me up as much as possible over my t-shirt. Sometimes, one of them moves up my back to the back of my neck, as if holding me in place, thinking I’d actually want to pull away. Suddenly, I hate him for wearing a thick hoodie, putting an impossibly heavily padded barrier between me and his arms, muscular from all the guitar shredding. People always say drummer are better, but that’s always seemed preposterous to me when I can’t take my eyes off the way his fingers glide up and down the fret. I find myself subconsciously whispering “fuck” against Michael’s mouth. He pulls away,, and I hope I haven’t ruined the mood, though this is proved false when Michael sighs loudly, throwing his head back to look at the star-studded sky. He closes his eyes and I’ve never seen a more blissful look on his face. I love it, but at the same time I find myself wondering why I’m not embracing the sky with the stars reflected in my eyes. There’s no question I liked kissing Michael, but when I look at him, I still see my best friend. It’s as if the moon had dipped behind some clouds, lifting its dreamy spell on me. What scares me most is the idea of going to school tomorrow and feeling as if nothing happened.

I’m shaken from my worries when Michael breathes my name, like it’s wish upon a star. When I say his name, it’s more of a warning, not to hold me higher than where I really stand. It seems informal when Michael announces he better head home before his mum sees he’s gone, and he leaves with a wave and a “see you tomorrow”. I look to the moon, silently pleading it to stay in the sky, so morning won’t come.