Jack Zimmermann was accustomed to dealing with difficult situations;
he was captain of the Samwell Men’s
Hockey team after all, but this? Thiswas never in the job description.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Bitty whispered into the side of
Jack’s neck, breath hot and sweet against his skin. The kegster ended a while
ago but Bitty was still feeling the effects. When he fell off the coffee table
attempting to dance to All the Single Ladies, Jack swept in ready to piggyback
him to bed.
“Alright,” Jack said, mouthing I got this in Lardo’s direction before heading to the stairs.
“I don’t wanna be a single lady anymore,” His voice faltered
and Jack became acutely aware of Bitty’s thighs around his hips. “I want a
person. Everybody else has got a person.”
“With moves like that I don’t think you’ll have to wait
long,” Jack said, supressing a chuckle.
“Mmhmm,” Bitty mumbled, fighting a losing war against sleep.
Jack pushed open the door to Bitty’s room with his foot and ducked inside.
“You need to stop pining after people you haven’t even spoken to,” Lydia says one day, probably because Derek—er, Mr. Hale, their boss—has just stepped through the front door of the cafe where they’re having lunch, and Stiles has trailed off mid-word to watch him walk up to the counter. In Stiles’ defense, he’s never seen Mr. Hale outside of the office before, let alone Mr. Hale wearing a leather jacket over his dress shirt. God, and Stiles thought the tailored suits were bad enough…
“Uh, I have too spoken to him,” Stiles says indignantly, tearing his eyes away from Derek’s broad back across the room. “One day I was coming out of the break room and I almost walked right into him and he said, ‘Excuse me,’ so then I said, ‘Oops,’ and he smiled at me. Kind of. A little bit. I mean, I interpreted it as a smile. There was some prolonged eye contact.”
Lydia abruptly stops stirring her fat-free latte to stare at him—one of those Oh god, it’s worse than I thought kind of looks. “That’s it?”
Summary: Reggie Mantle grew up protecting what he loved.
I miss you.
received the text on the first day of school, the instant your baby pink ballet
flats maneuvered within the halls of Riverdale High, which were marginally
filled with mayhem from everyone’s first day jitters.
not everyone. You, despite your extra pretty face, extra shiny curls, and extra
preppy outfit, wore a heavy façade that drooped lower than the Maybelline Fit
Me-concealed eye-bags that were situated below your unexplained, cheery eyes that
tried to greet everyone with much positivity as possible. As everyone knew your
perfect reputation, the happy-go-lucky cheerleader that everyone admired and
loved since the day you entered high school. It was never tarnished, so you
refused to let a silly break-up move it at all.
took out your phone and shakily gazed down at the message. It was sent in
clear, with no emoji’s or silly grammatical errors. Your nervous fingers moved
for you, but your brain was being silly that day and it had no planned response
for the text message.
wave of students accidentally crossed and one of them partially collided
against your hardly five feet tall physique, which was a thankful jolt that rattled
you off from replying to the text message. You squeezed the iPhone tightly,
bearing no mind of the glittery fake diamonds from the phone case bearing harsh
indentions against your palm.
moment you were able to fix your locker and lock it behind you, you immediately
set off to find a seat in the gym—hoping that an early departure from
the first day madness would create a false sense of comfort from your inevitable
fate, which was meeting your ex-boyfriend again subsequently after a summer of
trying to forget all about him.
had always said that you were perfect for Reginald Mantle.
were a girl blessed with your father’s dominant sloped nose and your mother’s graceful
and tiny, ballerina body. Being the only child meant being under the revolving
gaze of your mother and father’s watchful eyes twenty-four/seven, and you grew
up to be accordingly limpid; yet, at the same time pretentious for you were the
heir of one of the wealthiest families in Riverdale.
was a boy meant for you even before you knew what he was supposed to be. He was
a constant person in your life, a fixture caused by your parents and his
parents’ meddling. Though, despite your unending play times together and a
hired tutor that taught you and him up until you were in middle school, Reggie
and you grew up in different paths, in different aspects.
and Reggie were in the opposite sides of the spectrum. Nevertheless, you were inexplicably
drawn to him. He was exactly the same as you, but as the same time, so, so different.
was difficult to figure out. He had pushed children off swing sets and had
hogged all the toy cars to himself as he disliked sharing. You hated the smirk
on his face when he teased his inferiors, and still you loved him when he
kissed you goodnight. He’d hold you in the softest way possible, muscled arms
entrapped around you with touch as light as a feather, and similarly he’d used
the same arms dangerously with heated intent at someone else.
never got why people often told you that he was perfect for you. He was, in
your point of view, a mixture of positives and negatives. He was your opposite.
thing about opposites was that when a unity occurred, it would be a co-existent
dependency that held itself with tension.
loved him more than he loved himself. That was probably the reason why the
balance wasn’t right and he pushed himself off, leaving you in the dust.
you alright?” Surprisingly, Cheryl Blossom would be the first person to
question you that today. The said Blossom stood above you, her red curls down
the right side of her chest, a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow. You tried
to hide the flinch that came with Cheryl’s edged tone, but she assumingly
noticed it since she took it herself to sit next to you on that noisy lunch
to me,” she demanded. “I don’t want anyone on my squad to be sadder than my
supposed star quality. You cannot rain on my parade on this week’s performance.”
fine,” you muttered as you picked on your salad.
a stupid boy doesn’t have the right to state your mood status.” She hissed. “There
are 7 billion people in the world. God knows how much boys will there be after
your life post-Reggie Man—“
Cheryl,” You stood up. “I said I’m fine!”
words were a little too loud, and laced with anger. The whole open-lawn cafeteria
went into a full pregnant pause from your little burst and your eyes betrayed
you as it went to a familiar face that you couldn’t just let go off. His
smirking, never ceasing, hardly-caring face wavered slightly as he looked your
way, as everyone had. He looked down once before pushing his left foot off benched
on the seat and faced in the opposite direction, going back into a conversation
with Chuck Clayton.
couldn’t care less what that meant and you sped off from your table, grabbing
your cellphone with you. Opening the text message up on your interface, your
quivering fingers typed out a reply before hitting send.
thought you said I couldn’t see you again,” the tall and handsome boy chuckled
as he sat coolly on the stools that they had in Pop’s. His tousled, brown waves
would shine into a blondish side under the neon lights of Pop’s infamous signs,
and his pretty blue eyes would turn your messy head into a complete haze of
white noise. “I missed you,” Jackson voiced out, echoing what he had recently texted you that morning.
was seven in the evening, and mostly everyone had this night tacked to watch
the last screening due for the closing Midnight Drive-In. You had thought to go
but you knew that it would simply be another place that would haunt you again
with memories that happened in the arms of a familiar stranger.
couldn’t resist,” you whispered zealously, biting your lip, then striding
towards him until both of your faces had no space with each other. He kissed
back passionately, and you followed along in accord, ignoring the way your
heart bleated in a monotonous fashion, like it was a routine you followed every
morning. Fingers tracing down his rugged, jean jacket, you stopped as it went
to a tracing on his arm. A tattoo of a dangerous serpent.
it,” he pushed himself off you and went to slip down his sleeves. “Any good ‘ole
folk wouldn’t wanna see that snake on a young thing’s skin.”
young thing, huh?” You titled your head, letting him caress your cheek. It made
you feel like being touched by an intruder. You held your tongue from stating
that out loud. “I heard that your buddies are over at the drive-in tonight.”
the handsome, rugged boy agreed, holding your hand like a whisper. “But you’re
much better than any movie, let’s agree. Pretty and innocent [y/n][y/l/n].”
my father saw you with me,” you told him with a trace of a smile hinting on
your lips while leading the boy down to a booth. “He would freak,” you ended
with a pendulous but crude smirk, as the feeling of going behind your parents’
back often created a brilliant feeling of teenage rebellion.
the light that would go unperturbed that night beneath the luminescence of you
with the boy from the Serpents would go back unlit as a sudden burst of
unexpected customers walked in the empty Pop’s.
was a famous group of blue and yellow hues, the king, the boy in between the
boisterous and rowdy laughs, and you couldn’t help but shake as his eyes
immediately turned toward the serpent and your contumacious self.
Reggie Mantle took it upon himself to breeze through the rows of booths with a
face of disbelief, his voice rising. And as you expected, anger rising as his
comical face slowly slipped to stone cold when his eyes landed on the lingering
fingers of the serpent teenager on your arm. “Who the hell is he?”
off, Reggie,” you glared, bringing yourself to whisper to your current partner
beside you, “Ignore him.” You tried your best to act a casual as possible,
though the sudden racing of your heart that went with the way your ex-boyfriend
stared at you in a mix of hardening confusion and indignation.
other football players were left in a fit of widening eyes as Reggie, in
impulsion, went and grabbed your arm in fury, “I’m taking you home.”
it was a laughable scene, provided that you have been in witness in a
circumstance like this before; on the contrary, you were always behind him
before, supporting him like a good girlfriend. Until now.
showed the chaos within him through the bones between his knuckles—several
scars made proof of that. Now, you were his enemy, the one that caused the fire
beneath his eyes. The booths made a guarded ring.
the hell, man—“ The serpent boy scoffed before
Reggie snapped and gripped and landed a good punch with no regret on the other
boy’s face. That started a full-blown fight, which lead pandemonium where
Moose, Chuck, and several others hurriedly tried to pull the Asian off the
other boy. Reggie’s blows were pernicious, and over the yells of the football
team trying to stop the fight, the only thing you could do was watch everything
on public property, what on earth caused you to do that?!” And Mrs. Mantle let
out a startled shriek and tried to shield her son as Mr. Mantle gave a tumultuous
slap on Reggie’s already bruising face. You gripped your jacket, feeling the
cotton and thinking of it as abrasive as hooves, guilt going off you in waves
as the only thing you could do was watch the aftermath unfold in the Mantle
estate, where you had been protectively ushered off to with your parents and
Sheriff Keller due to Pop’s emergency dial.
is getting out of hand,” Reggie’s father continued, a harsher than stern look
on his purple face. Yanking back his hand, his gaze shot to you, which you
couldn’t bear to hold longer than a second. “This boy has been nothing but
trouble this year—I swear, this was the last straw, Reginald. I need to ship him
was my fault,” you found your voice, hurried and not gentle at all—willing
to cross out the guilt killing your tightening chest. Your parents’
tension-heavy faces whipped their heads to you, their protected daughter that
could hardly do no wrong in this world. “I came there with Jackson—“
I fought him, she had nothing to do
with th—“ Reggie hastily claimed, harsh and
scarily void of emotion. He was seemingly too callous from responding to his
father—and you had realized that this
could have been happening more so than none and that this boy could have grown
up this way, and while your heart was pouring from hearing him protect you, you
knew that it was your call to turn things around.
you squeaked, hearing yourself panic. “I guess I was being rebellious, I met up
with Jackson, and – and- “ You eyed your father. “He was with me and Reggie saw
me and Jackson did something and he got provoked,” you finished, lying. You
looked at Reggie, and he gazed at you, turmoil and hurt swirling in his eyes.
led to a tension-filled silence. You closed your eyes, and could hear the
sounds of Reggie’s father’s footsteps going off to a direction. Somewhere that’s
not here, of course.
that shouldn’t have happened,” he would tell you days later, smirk latched to
his lips like a boy to a candy bar. He’d say it would no feeling, no emotion,
as if he wasn’t someone that was in what happened and he was merely a person
who’d heard of what happened.
memory of his father slapping him because of you would haunt you forever, and
your eyes would wander to his cheek not due to any romantic purpose, but the
ache of wondering how much it hurt to protect you, a person he shouldn’t even
be caring for anymore.
sorry,” you ignored his first statement, and spat out what you needed to say.
The hallways were empty. “I was being petty. I wanted to—“
The words were dignified to be stated out in the open. “I wanted to forget
silence mocked you. The 6’3 handsome and usually word-y jock—the
boy you really, just really, really
loved, gazed at you as if your turbulence, though with a slip of concern on his
façade. You continued, lips burning with words you only imagined you would say
in a dream, “You hurt me, Reggie. I hated
you for making me spend a summer without you. So, yeah. I did something. I slept with that douchebag,
that serpent, just to forget about
you. So, fuck you.”
response was instant. An utter storm shadowed over his face. “Fuck me? Fuck me? Are you fucking kidding me?” His
fingers wrapped tightly around his coifed hair, eyes blazing with chasms of
void and anger. “The only thing I ever did was goddamn protect you! If you hadn’t
been so stupid, you wouldn’t be in this mess. I shouldn’t have protected you
from the start if it was going to lead this way.”
me from the start?” You questioned, beckoned with hatred.
I’ve always been protecting you. I love
you, [y/n]. So much. The reason I ended things is because you were going to end
up broadcasted on this shitty book and—“ Reggie sighed and you looked at
him confusingly. He stepped forward, “Look, last year I was in hell. My dad
caught me doing some stupid shit and he was going to blame it on you. I needed to protect you, it was instinct. I had to break up with you
because I couldn’t bear the guilt that—“
time, it was your turn to slap him. Reggie snapped his head back at you,
stupid jerk,” your body shook from relief and at the same time, numbness. “You
couldn’t have at least told me about that? I literally cried for a week because
I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, the great Reggie freaking Mantle.”
stared at what only could have been eons, before shaking his head and returning
a soft gaze that was only for you. “I’m sorry.”
could shake your head as he placed out his warm hand next to yours, swirling
and wrapping it around yours in the gentlest way possible.
was an epiphany, when you looked at him and you had finally seen a glimpse of an extent that he
would do for you. The balance was off and you had thought of it in the wrong way.
He loved you more than he loved
omg i’m so sorry. whenever i write i’d always get so carried away with excessive details and annoying character musings!!! please tell me what you think! feel free to reblog or like or message me! always open to hear what you guys think huehue. :)
Soft baby by day, sexy mofo by night. Can do everything?? Sing, rap, dance, cook, act, write and produce music, play the guitar (classical, spanish, lead, and rhythm omg) and the piano and the drums, has the body of an elf king. He’s also AMAZING with children as shown [here - skip to 12:17 and WATCH you won’t regret it] and dogs too! All animals really. He’s Korean Snow White. With abs. And if Snow White was extra.
Also the kindest soul ever. He’s always smiling, even when he’s down. He literally said, and I quote; “No matter how difficult something is, I will always be positive and smile like an idiot.” His then-girlfriend nicknamed him “Happy Virus.” Constantly buys his members gifts, is very tall (well over six feet), and he’s the most extroverted and sociable person - actually friends with everyone. 10/10 amazing human.
Don’t let him fool you!!! He looks soft but he will fuck you up with his cheeky lil smile and pelvic sorcery and unearthly vocals and uGH. His wit is unparalleled like omg, so sassy and hilarious and sharp. Also a huge nerd when it comes to anime, manga, and video games. Once gave a picture of himself to another member as a gift, the lil shit.
He’s incredibly passionate about his career and his members, and I think it was Kyungsoo who said that it’s Baek who keeps them all together at times. In summary: Byun Baekhyun is what happens when a demon and an angel do the do.
Do Kyungsoo? More like Do Me, Kyungsoo. I’m sorry I’m so thirsty Ksoo…I don’t even know where to begin with this one. First of all, he single-handedly saved the human race from extinction with his voice. He’s savage af, so much so that he’s affectionately nicknamed “Satansoo” and he will smack a bitch. He’s also so soft and squishy at the same time, you’ll get whiplash. And his acTING. Lord in heaven. And I believe he didn’t even have acting lessons?? The nerve of him. He, too, is sex on legs, and he might be quieter than the others, but y’all best listen when he talks cause boy bout to spill the tea.
He’s also very paternal in that he takes care of the other members a lot, like when Kai, his roommate, isn’t feeling well, he’ll care for him or go out to get food for him. And he can cook really well. I’m gonna stop now before I end up writing an entire dissertation ;’)
ALSO NOT PURE ABORT ABORT THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
Oh my god. Anyway. Zhang Yixing is the perfect contradiction. On the one hand, he’s an actual baby lamb - laugh and all. On the other hand, he’s the human embodiment of the NC-17 rating. Like, hide yo kids. Yixing is also one of the Chinese members of EXO, so he often leaves to promote his solo music which is in Chinese, and he works so incredibly hard and deserves all the success. He also writes the lyrics, and composes and arranges the music!
And…his dancing. Proof that god exists. There is literally no part of his body that Yixing does not have absolute command over - and you can see it because he is so precise, confident, and sexy. :’)
I actually had to cover his face while writing this because holy–
Yup. Moving on.
Actually, back to his face (and the rest of him): Remember when Da Vinci was conceptualizing the Vitruvian Man (lol only 90′s kids will remember…1490′s kids, that is). You know that picture of the guy with another pair of arms and legs superimposed on him, inside a circle? The drawing theorizing the ideal proportions of the human body? Yup, true story: Junmyeon was Da Vinci’s muse. Suho’s face is so symmetrical, it inspired mathematicians to write the golden ratio. He is a genetic miracle, a statistical outlier, a national treasure–
Anyway *sweats*. ALSO. Let’s talk about his personality. Myeon is the mom of EXO, the leader, so he’s naturally very parental. He actually chose the stage name “Suho” because it means guardian. He always does his best to keep his kids the members together and doing what they need to be doing. Always pays for things ($Junmoney$), and is the person a lot of them confide in and go to for comfort or advice, especially Sehun.
He’s such a dad too - like his dad joke ratings are off the charts. 10/10 would build you a tree house and tuck you in at night.
Maknae. Icon. Legend. Used to have a lisp.
People sometimes think he’s cold or reserved because of his face, but as you can see in the gif, he’s literal sunshine. He once cried on stage because he was knocked on the head by a camera - but he wasn’t crying because the injury hurt, he was crying because he wasn’t allowed to perform because of it, and he felt like he was disappointing his fans. He also cried during a radio show when asked about his other members - he said every night before he falls asleep, he prays for them and he prays that they all stay together and are successful and happy. And now I’m crying.
Everyone is in love with him.
His dancing resurrected me from the dead, put my children through college, and ended world hunger because damn we are fed when that boy moves.
Sehun was once invited to Paris for a Louis Vuitton fashion show and became king of France. I’m not kidding. All he did was show up, and there was a huge crowd already there to greet him as if he were royalty, and he was voted best dressed at the show by Vogue. He went to the Louvre, and people were studying and appreciating him, the actual art.
Ah, little dino bby. He’s iconic for many reasons:
1) His smile. It curls up at the corners like this :}
2) When he laughs, he literally goes HAHAHAHAHA like wow, amazing, I want this as my ringtone
3) He screams a lot. Nickelodeon once made a show about him called Jongdae: The Last Pterodactyl.
4) HIS VOCALS. Un-freaking-believable. He’s the male version of Mariah Carey.
5) Speaks really good Chinese! (He’s Korean)
6) An amazing human?? He donates to charity so often and he doesn’t do it for publicity either. He takes good care of the other members too.
Jongdae, let me put a ring on it.
HERE WE GO. My precious boy :’)
Minseok. The eldest. Also known as the best person to ever exist. Like Kyungsoo, he doesn’t talk much because he’s a shy lil bean, but once he warms up to you, the things that come out of his mouth are so deep and cute and funny and wowow I want ten of him
Is the least likely to cry
Was chubby (and so adorable!!) as a little kid, and now he has a six pack. Because of his weight as a kid though, he has spoken many times about the issue of body shaming and how people’s perceptions of a person shift based on how they look. He once said these words that made my cold, dead heart beat again: “I don’t have an ideal type. If our hearts match well, then she will look pretty to me.”
Has the strongest arms in EXO. They all arm wrestled and he won and it was the funniest thing ever.
Is not only an idol, he’s also getting his Ph.D. Dr. Kim. I can’t believe….
Wants to open his own coffee shop, and I don’t drink coffee, but I would chug any dish-water-coffee-grinds-filth that he would serve me because damn I love him.
The Bias Wrecker. Or just your bias, plain and simple
Kim Jongin is one of nature’s greatest accomplishments. His gams are the eighth wonder of the world - and he puts them to use when he dances, like please kick me in the face with those omfg
His laugh. Astounding. Also don’t stand too close when he laughs because he will hit you. It’s just what he does lmao
He’s basically a hip young old man - so hot but so sleepy. He’ll sleep at any given opportunity.
Very fond of fried chicken. And dogs. But not in terms of eating, for the latter
Learned ballet for ten years and it shows, and I just wANT TO SEE HIM IN A LEOTARD DAMMIT
He has darker skin than the other members which people used to make fun of him for and still do comment on, but he says he loves it and he is proud of his body :’) we are too bby!!
Other random facts:
EXO originally had 12 members but 3 left and we’re not going to talk about it okay? okay
- Chen and Xiumin are married best friends. Xiumin actually said in an interview that Chen is “like my wife”
- Sehun is now officially Lord Oh Sehun of Glencoe, Scotland because his fans are the most Extra and purchased the estate for his birthday :’)
- Chanyeol once folded one hundred paper cranes for his girlfriend as a gift, but in the middle of doing this, she called him and broke up with him
- Baekhyun can’t cook for shit but at least he’s pretty
- Kai is dating F(X)’s Krystal
- Kyungsoo once said to the camera that he is “not pure”
- Yixing starred in a gay sci-fi movie where he and this other dude have a baby
- Suho is a health nut. Just like how girls always have pads and tampons on them, Suho has multivitamins
For @the-porcelain-doll-xo because I’m the friend that wants to drag you into hell with me, and I can’t wait for you to get into EXO ahhhhh ily <33
La douleur exquise: The heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can’t have.
Summary: You’ve been helplessly in love with your brother’s best friend all your life, but he can’t see you as anything other than a little sister.
Pairing: Wonho(?) x Reader (feat. Jungkook) ((let me live))
Word Count: 8.8k
Warning(s): No smut in this chapter but I’ll promise there will be in the next chapters!
A/N: Hi! So I’ve actually had this done for quite awhile and was debating on whether or not to post it in it’s entirety but I have a lot in store for this idea so I decided to do it in parts! This idea is based off of these pics here xxx of Wonho cuz he just looks so boyfriend & I love him so hardgysasjsknc. And I’m tagging this as a Jungkook scenario because you’ll be seeing him more eventually. Also, I’m working on drabbles in the meantime as well DON’T THINK I FORGOT THEM OK I’LL BE POSTING ONE SOON hope you enjoy this in the meantime!!
Well, it took rewriting and tampering with 4 different ideas to finally get to this one. It’s a bit different from the usual Valentine’s stuff I see… but, I hope you guys like it! All the love, and a very Happy Valentines Day from me to you! x
Agreeing to spend Valentines day with Harry, your best friend, was something you were happy to do. It had been weeks since you two had had a proper sit down and hangout anyhow, turning to desperate measures like quick meet ups and late night texting to accommodate to both of your busy schedules. It was especially when you nor him had a special someone to spend it with.
A night in at your place with a stack of movies, some wine, and Harry’s cuddles was the best Valentine’s you could have asked for. If you were being honest with yourself, though, you’d prefer spending a day with Harry over anyone else. There was something about the him- yes, he was the charismatic and charming boy that appeared in magazines and tv screens across the world but, he had always been your Harry. The Harry who had gotten you drunk for the first time in highschool, the Harry who had sung for years and years obnoxiously into your ear (although you’d never admit to him that you actually loved it), the Harry who had chased his dreams quickly and attained them, but most of all- he was the Harry who never forgot you, the one who always had time for his best friend even if he was half way across the world. He may have grown into a big star, but he was still the same dork who would stick straws into his mouth at dinner and act like a walrus to you. He was the Harry who made you feel safe, and loved, and important.
You had always loved Harry, and you always would. You weren’t quite sure when that love had developed into something more. When you started to wish that his forehead kisses would linger just a moment more, or when you had wished he wouldn’t tuck you into the guest bedroom after you had fallen asleep on his couch but cuddle up with you there, or when you wished he would just stay put in London for a bit longer not just because you missed him, but because selfishly put, you needed him. You weren’t sure when you had fallen in love with him, but you knew you were.
“Can you..?” You mumble, circling your empty wine glass in the air with a frown as you stare at the bottle which is on the other end of your coffee table.
“S’tha’ really a good idea, love?” Harry pipes up from across the couch.
A/N: Hey loves, this is it! Chapter 6 is finally here after the long delay and it gets steamy as heck this time! ;) I’m super sorry for the long wait, this writer’s block is killing me haha! I hope you guys like it! Enjoy! -Delilah
Haunting Me: Y/N is a normal young adult living in New York, but little does she know that she’s a reincarnation of the long lost Bucky Barnes’ fiance from the 1940′s. What happens when she runs into Steve in 2012? Most importantly, what happens when she runs into The Winter Soldier?
You took a small step back, placing a hand on your chest.
Bucky gave you a small, sheepish smile,before looking over at the paintings in your room. There were countless ones, strung up on the little clothes line you put up, on the walls, on numerous easels. And every single one of them was of one person: Bucky.
He walked towards a specific one, which was a painting of him wearing his old military uniform. He was smiling that old, dorky little smile he used to give you. Behind him, was the Wonder Wheel at Coney Island. That was where you had your first date.
“You remember this?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at you with a smile. One that heavily resembled the painting. You nodded, feeling your cheeks heating.
“It was our first date, right?” you asked. He grinned this time, before looking back to the painting on the wall.
“I tried so hard to impress you that night,” he recalled as he ran his fingers over the artwork. “I kept trying to win that little teddy bear for you, but I kept missing every damn time.”
“You ended up stealing it instead.” You smiled as you recalled a very young Bucky as he hopped the counter when the man wasn’t looking and swiped the bear. You both ran so fast before the man could catch the two of you.
Bucky moved towards the next painting, which was one from the day you both made love for the first time. He was lying on his side, propped up onto his elbow as he peered down at you. The silver necklace you had given him was the only thing he was wearing, besides the sheets that were gathered around his waist. He was giving a lazy smile, his hair sticking up in random places.
“This was a really good night,” he chuckled; biting his lip as the memories of you withering beneath him came flooding back to his mind. He remembered exactly how you looked as he hovered over you, your moans filling the room as he pounded you into the mattress. And your breasts, man he loved those. He had seen all shapes and sizes back in his day, but yours were special. To him, they were perfection.
“You accidentally burned me with your cigarette right after that.” You reminded him, your eyebrow slightly rising. You could see the blush on his cheeks as he recalled the memory. Bucky loved to smoke in bed. Right after that picture, he lit a cigarette and forgot it was in his hand when the ash fell onto your shoulder, creating a dark scar.
Bucky slowly moved towards the last painting on the wall, which caught him off guard the most.
It was a recent one. He was sitting at the small table that belonged to the little rundown motel he had taken you to the day you were reunited. But this painting was different. Instead of him smiling, his face was set in a frown; his eyes were cold and lifeless.
“I take it you’re still mad about that night?” he asked as he turned around all the way this time.
“Well,” you began, stepping over some of the paint cans. “You did kidnap me and tie me up.”
“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal,” he smirked. “You used to love being tied up.”
You blushed, giving his shoulder a playful punch as he laughed. For a split second, it felt like how it used to be: Bucky making you blush, while you both shared a laugh. One that you honestly hadn’t had in years.
The laughter slowly turned into cackles as Bucky jokingly poked your cheek. You giggled, crinkling your nose as you swatted his hand away.
You reached to his side and gently pinched his ribs, causing him to cackle and jerk away from you. Instantly, you let out another giggle.
“The Winter Soldier is ticklish?” You teased, smiling widely as he began backing away. He shook his head, his eyes wide as you began stalking towards him.
You lunged for him, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him down onto the tarp covered ground. You landed right on top of him with a dull thud.
“Y/N!” He laughed, his eyes crinkling from the giant smile he was currently wearing. “S-Stop!”
You ignored his pleas as you planted your fingertips onto his ribs and wiggled rapidly. He howled with laughter as you tickled him mercilessly. Truth be told, his smile did something to you. It made you want to sing every song in the world at the top of your lungs, or draw every thing that had to do with him.
You were so lost in thought, you hadn’t noticed that Bucky had slid away from you, smirking devilishly. You blinked, looking over just in time to see him fly forward. He wrapped his arms around your smaller body and brought you onto the ground with him.
You gasped as one of the paint cans tumbled over, splashing the both of you with lilac colored paint.
You peered up at Bucky, who was hovering above you, watching you as if you were some interesting new discovery of some sort. He analyzed every single little feature on your face, along with your mannerisms.
You smiled up at him, noticing the same one he gave back.
Slowly, you noticed his paint covered fingertips brushing against your bottom lip, tracing the flesh lightly. You felt yourself leaning in, bringing your face near his as he did the same. It took him a second to understand, but when he did, he finally leaned in as well.
For a split second, your lips touched and you swore you could feel the fireworks. The warmth in your chest.
But this time, the ache in your skull was back, and from the pained look on Bucky’s face, it was affecting him as well.
“Bucky,” you breathed.
Bucky hovered over you, his beautiful blue eyes soft with nothing but love. Love he had for one person only: you.
“I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, staring into his eyes. “I’m a virgin.”
Bucky’s lips slowly curled upwards into a smile as he watched your cheeks turn a dark shade of pink. You had never been with anyone before. You had been on a couple dates here and there, but in the end, it never worked out.
But Bucky, he was so different than the rest. He made you feel comfortable even in your time of need. He made you feel safe. Even when you were just holding hands, it felt so intimate not only on a physical level, but spiritually.
“There’s nothing wrong with that, sugar.” Bucky grinned, his voice growing soft. He reached down to you and gently moved a strand of your hair that had fallen upon your face.
“If it’s too much for you, tell me and I’ll stop.”
“But Bucky-” you protested.
“Y/N,” he clipped, his smile slowly turning into a frown. “This is supposed to be good for both of us, alright?”
You nodded, feeling your face heat up once more. You were so ready for this. You craved intimacy from Bucky, and now your wish was going to come true.
Bucky placed a small kiss onto your lips, his hand tracing your jawline, before pulling away from you. You watched as he pulled away from you and reaching over to his night stand and grabbing ahold of the condom.
Immediately, your heart began to race. Reality was hitting you like a brick wall now and you were realizing the seriousness of the situation. Bucky was going to make love to you. This was really happening.
He hurriedly slid the condom onto his thick length. Your eyes widened as you took in the sight before you. You had never seen that part of the male anatomy before, and you were extremely impressed. Also, you were a bit intimidated as well. Bucky…well, he was big.
Noticing your shocked expression, he stopped his actions and peered down at you with a small, loving smile.
“What’s wrong, doll?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.
You gulped, your gaze flickering from his length to his handsome face. You put on a fake smile.
“Nothing, Bucky…” you replied.
He raised his eyebrows before hovering over you once again. He placed small butterfly kisses onto your cheeks, moving down to your neck.
“Please don’t hide from me.” He begged, peering back up at you with puppy dog eyes, ones that made your heart swell.
“It’s gonna hurt,” you admitted. “You’re bit bigger than expected, Bucky.” He let out a chuckle before kneeling between your legs once more.
“It is gonna hurt, sugar,” he confessed as he gently pumped his cock with his hand. You immediately felt yourself becoming wetter by the second. “But it’s gonna get better, I promise. A couple minutes in and you won’t even feel it.”
You nodded, hypnotized by his movements and the small sighs that escaped his lips as he pleasured himself.
“Spread your legs for me, baby.” He said. His voice was lower, raspy with want.
You spread your legs wide, giving him a full view of your glistening core. You were soaked now and Bucky had to breathe to prevent himself from diving right in.
Once again, he leaned forward and hovered above your smaller body, positioning himself between your legs. You felt his cock rub against your folds, separating them.
Your hands wrapped around his neck, gently massaging his scalp with your fingers. This was it.
Bucky have you a small peck to your lips before rolling his hips forward, entering your heat.
You gasped, removing your hands from his neck and wrapping them around his biceps as he gave another experimental thrust. It hurt, you’d admit. But at the same time, it was somewhat pleasurable.
Bucky let out a groan, his heart thumping against yours wildly. His eyes were fixed on yours, burning into yours with intensity.
“Does that feel good, baby?” He asked as he thrusted into you once again. Your breath hitched as you felt a wave of pleasure course through your body.
“Bucky…” you whimpered, your eyes staring into his. “Do that again. Please!”
You let out a little “ah!” when he began a steady pace, his hips rolling into yours expertly, his cock hitting deeper and deeper inside of you.
Bucky looked so fucking gorgeous. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him no matter how hand you had tried. It’s as if his moans and gasps were enough to make you orgasm.
His lips were red and swollen from the kisses you had given him, but you didn’t care. You wanted nothing more than to make them even more swollen. His hair -jesus, it was wild just like you liked it.
His shoulders flexed each time he fucked you, giving you a show of his muscular body. One of your hands trailed down his back, resting onto his perfect little ass and gave it a small pinch.
He gasped, his eyes flying open and peering down at you with a grin. “You’re such a dirty girl, Y/N.” he spoke, sending your heart soaring through the sky.
You curiously looked down between your bodies. You let out a moan as you watched his cock entering your core, glistening with your juices. His skin hitting against yours only made it even more dirty and you yearned to hear it as much as you could.
You spread your legs wider, gently pulling Bucky into you with your hands on his lower back. You were in pure euphoria, and you wanted this every single day. Even if you had to quit your job, you’d gladly do it for a session with Bucky. It was so addicting.
“Oh my god!” you gasped, feeling your thighs trembling uncontrollably. You felt the strangest sensation between your legs, building deep within your body and spreading like wildfire. Your breaths became shaky little huffs as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to the edge.
Bucky was lost in you.
He was staring down at you, his lips curled into that loving smile he wore as he rolled his hips into you forcefully. The headboard of his bed slammed against his wall, creating small dents in it, but you both didn’t give a single care.
“That’s it, baby girl,” he moaned, his lips parting as he fucked you harder. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”
You dug your nails into his back, resting your head onto his shoulder as his hips began to stutter. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you as he picked up his pace. A thin layer of sweat began to form on the two of you, but neither of you cared.
“Fuck, I-I think I’m….” You whimpered, feeling your body tense as the euphoric feeling began releasing throughout your body, shaking you to your core. You through your head back onto the pillows, letting out a blood curdling scream as Bucky fucked your first orgasm into you. Your mouth was open, forming a perfect little ‘O’.
Bucky’s hand went to your breast, kneading the soft flesh softly as he watched you release. He was so close behind you, he could feel himself growing closer and closer within each second. With a shout of your name, Bucky rested his head against yours and released himself into the condom, his body collapsing on top of yours.
You peered up at him with a smile, analyzing his blissed out face. He looked so beautiful like this, his hair messy and his eyes screwed shut from the immense pleasure you were giving him. You raised your hand and cupped his cheek.
“How was that, doll?” he huffed, his eyes half lidded as he gave you that dorky smile. You giggled, feeling nothing but pure love for him.
“That was…amazing, Bucky.” You replied. “I want this every day. I don’t care how tired I am.”
He let out a laugh, planting a kiss onto your cheek before rolling onto his back. He turned his back to you, reaching over for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand and plucking one from the packet. He placed it between his lips before lighting it with the lighter he always carried around with him.
With a sigh, he rolled over until he was facing you. He propped himself up onto his elbow, giving you a boyish grin.
“So,” he began, taking a drag of the cigarette. You giggled and peered up at him, still lying on your back.
“So,” you repeated with a grin.
Before he could speak, a small piece of the ash from his cigarette, landing right onto your bare shoulder.
“Shit!” He spat, before reaching behind himself and putting the cigarette out in the ash tray.
You yelped before brushing the ash from your skin. It burned like hell.
“Are you alright, Y/N?” he asked, his eyes filled with worry. You nodded, sinking into the bed with a contempt sigh. , but you wouldn’t let that ruin your mood. You were still buzzing from the most intense orgasm he had given you.
You peered up at him, giving him a million dollar smile.
“i’m just peachy, baby.”
*squeals* now we know how that whole thing went down ;)
Pairing: Reader x Bucky Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: Angst, fluff, swearing
A/N: Sorry this took so long to write and post!
“What’re you watching?” you jump as the gruff voice sounds through the dark living room. Your heart begins to race before you even turn around to confirm who was standing behind the couch. It was Bucky, you would know that voice anywhere.
Glancing over your shoulder, you give the super soldier a small smile, “Tangled,” you inform him, “I’d ask you to join but it’s almost done,” you curse yourself, watching a movie with Bucky would be a perfect way to get to know your crush better,
“It’s really good quality,” Bucky keeps his eyes locked on the huge tv, while you keep your eyes locked on him. It was dark in the lounge room, the only source of light coming from the tv, but you can see that he’s tired; bloodshot eyes and dark circles giving it away.
Request: Could I request a Bucky x
reader fic where the reader totally kicks his ass at a drinking game or pool
and he’s so in awe of her that he flat out admits that he has a crush on her as
she’s celebrating her victory? :)
“Nope, you guys can’t play,” Tony argued, pointing at you
and Clint, “you never miss, so that just sucks all the fun out of it for the
rest of us. Besides, this game of pool
is for cash and posterity, and you’re broke, so…point made.”
Clint snorted in disgust and waved Tony off, shaking his
head and pointing at you with the hand that held his half-empty beer bottle,
“that’s not fair. She misses all the
time, no need to punish me for it.”
Baekhyun had gathered all of his members in the living room
first thing in the morning before anyone left for schedules. They had probably
all read the article by now but none of them mentioned it as he knocked on each
of their doors and asked them into the main room. He hadn’t exactly planned
what to say. Maybe he should have. Maybe he wouldn’t feel so nervous if he had
figured out how he wanted to explain this new part of his life to his brothers.
Still here he was, with eight faces staring up at him in
anticipation, about to tell them about the new people in his life that he would
happily take a bullet for.
BTS Taehyung / Words: 3641 / Warnings: smut - oral, light pain play (tae likes biting a lot) “I just want to hold you for just long enough, so you don’t get tired of me telling you: I love you so much.”
You watched the light from your decorative candles flicker along your walls, illuminating your room just enough so that you weren’t in complete darkness. You went over to your window and shut out the cold air that pricked at your skin. The scent of flowers earlier in the day had gotten your hopes up and made you think that maybe, just maybe the weather was warming up. But once the sun had gone down, it was still too cold to enjoy it fully. You opted instead to keep your doors and windows shut tight so that you could enjoy the warmth of your apartment as well as your flimsy excuse for a nightgown.
description:in which you’re stolen from him, and theo does everything in his power to save you
warnings:mentions of trauma, kidnapping, blood, injury, violence, mentions of death and loss, angst
notes:this is the longest thing i have ever written i’m pretty sure. the original request included smut but the theme was too heavy to add it in, plus it’s long enough as it is. also, because of its length it may crash for some mobile users, and i apologize if it does lmao.
In his short lifetime, Theo had made a lot of enemies. He’d done a lot of terrible things. He’d killed, he’d antagonized, he’d deceived. Everyone that hated him had a right to do so. But in the years following his time in Beacon Hills, Theo had changed.
For @illustraice and her amazing Sun/Moon spirit au? THIS WAS SO RUSHED, BY I wanted to give you something in addition to the writing.
Thank you for all your amazing work. (PLEASE DON’T LISTEN TO EINE KLEINE BY RACHIE. it really hurts with this au.)
It’s entirely a lie that the gods whisper amongst themselves. Behind soft tones and intrepid smiles, he knows what they say about her. About him.
But his golden light conceals too much. He can’t see the truth behind the glaring brightness of his own being.
They say that she’s weak without him. That they’re two halves of a broken whole, and that the moon cannot shine without the sun.
They forget that she is the night sky and all it encompasses. They forget that she holds the stars in her small hands, that she grasps the distant galaxies with her glowing night.
He doesn’t get to see her much. But when he does, the old scars across his back and his chest and the ones that sear in his heart all ache.
Vague memories of bloodless war flit through his mind. Her blue eyes are ever closed in his presence. Her dark gown spilling over like ink around her form.
She is perfection. Everything he is not.
She is not his to have. Her silver heart belongs to a human she once met.
She reaches for a man she knows is no longer living. But her moon shines just for him…for Adrien.
It wanes when the remembrance of war hurts her. It waxes red and full when her anger writhes and pulls at the oceans.
She once was human. Once was on earth long enough to meet a boy with golden hair like wheat and eyes the color of sunlight through leaves. A boy who fought in a revolution with ideals as pure as newly born life wavering under the spring sun.
“Wait for me. Wait for me, my Lady. When it is over, we can see each other again.”
But he never came for her. She’d searched long and hard across the streets of Paris, her form slowly shifting as the constellations on her back faded.
Mortals had so often made wishes on her stars, but she lamented that she cannot do the same as her heart leaked open and her tears doused the corpses that littered the battleground.
It’s been centuries, and her heart still aches.
(As do the old scars that gleam like starlight across her ribs and back, the scars the curl around her legs like sea foam.)
So she waits with a smile that cuts across the dark like her crescent moon, watching the world turn while she waits for a soul to be reborn. Her eyes drift into a sleep, dreams dancing across her sight full of wishes she cannot grant.
It is the strangest thing, he thinks, to make wishes on a flower.
The Earth is such a beautiful balance…one who’s beauty brings with it a sharp regret that he can’t quite recall.
There’s peace in this field of sunflowers that rise like curious sentinels for their king. He feels safe in their shade, hidden from the glare of his own sun.
There’s a little lark that sits on his shoulder, head tilted inquisitively at him. He gives it a gentle smile, and turns back to the flower he holds.
(The local flower spirit…a tiny pink robed girl by the name of Rose…has kindly left him to his devices.)
But he holds not a sunflower, but a delicate dandelion in between his warm hands, and he heaves a breath.
“I want to see her.” He whispers.
He watches the seeds drift away on the sudden breeze. They spiral upwards into the sharply blue sky, a color that distinctly reminds him of the one he adores.
His wish is carried away on the breeze. He hopes the wind spirit cannot hear it. But then again, he wonders if he should have wished on the stars instead.
Maybe then she would have heard the sound of his golden heart reaching across the sky for her.
They meet once more during an eclipse.
He thinks it oddly fitting that the darkest time of existence for him is when he can see her.
She thinks it oddly disquieting that the brightest time of existence for her is when they cross paths.
An eclipse. Solar or lunar, she can’t quite tell yet.
But those familiar tendrils of heat reach out for her. Her hands feel cold and there’s an old timeliness pain that lances through her as he calls her name.
Still, she curls into herself, a full moon who’s silvery light wanes in the face of the golden sun.
Her eyes remain closed, but somehow, her frigid fingers reach across the brief expanse, seeking a warmth they do not want.
“What are you afraid of, Night? Why do you curl away from me?” He calls out, slight irritation causing him to flare red and orange for a moment.
She lets the frost under her shadow creep into her tone…lets the elegance of snow and ice under stars color her answer.
“I don’t love you. I don’t want eternity with you. We may remain friends.”
He’s frustrated. And he can’t catch her glance, because still her eyes are closed against him and the tears well up in his own gaze.
“I understand.” He says quietly, and the rest of the eclipse is spent in silence.
But there’s a gentle smile in her goodbye and he just barely catches the tips of her fingers to press a burning kiss to them.
She opens her eyes the smallest bit, oddly gray in the light of the blue stars that color her gown.
And then they part.
She hears the wish he made on her brightest star.
She can’t grant it.
They think the night needs the day to shine. How wrong they are…it is the day that wholly depends on the night.
It is his golden heart that aches for her. It is his balance that is broken when she disappears and he remains.
Her night sky remains, but there’s a wailing loneliness that makes it seem so much dimmer.
His cries echo across the stars, and his tears become rain.
She hides on Earth, and while her heart aches still, she shifts her dark umbrella higher over her shoulders and lets the tears roll cruelly over it.
She cannot grant his wish when she’s working so hard to grant her own.
Alright, @kdanna03, you asked for lunchtime quickie smut between the sheriff and her new deputy, so here you are! I did this quick and dirty (which seemed appropriate), so apologies for any mistakes.
Emma watched, her feet up on her desk, as Killian paced back and forth like an angry panther, his hand resting on his hip and pulling his leather jacket apart while his hook gesticulated wildly. He was interrogating Will Scarlet, who sat slumped in a chair with his wrist handcuffed to it, his large eyebrows parted in such a way as to convey complete and utter innocence.
Innocent or not, he wasn’t about to give himself up, no matter how hard Killian railed him, and Emma watched closely as the furrow between Killian’s brow grew more pronounced. All the lines of his body were taut - the very picture of barely contained fury - as he moved in concise circles, his attention unwavering.
Popping another M&M in her mouth, she watched the scene intently, not wanting to undermine her husband’s authority by interfering. They’d already developed a ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine anyway, and she knew Killian would give her a sign if he required her assistance.
Right now, his back was turned towards her as Will shrugged and made excuses, and Emma watched as Killian’s hand went to the back of his neck, gripping it and then mussing the hair on the back of his head. Then he turned and she caught sight of his jaw clenching hard, the ripple of his muscles discernable even from a distance. Emma felt her pulse tick up a notch.
He was just so….so…angry. And Goddammit if he wasn’t the hottest thing she’d seen since a bad-boy pirate had rocked her world mostly-clad in black leather and eyeliner. Emma bit her lip, half-consciously toying with the top button of her shirt. If only he’d finish lecturing the town thief already and put some of that delicious tension to better use.
I wrote this short thing for the needle wizard,
pencil sorceress and all around magnificent friend, the lovely @outlanderedandoverhere. Master
Seamstress shares with me the love for Ed Sheeran and I couldn’t resist the
urge to have her doing a happy dance over this. Enjoy! X
I entered the small coffee shop, unfolding my
scarf as soon as I felt the merciful warmth of the heating system, aiming
towards a quiet table at the corner, as I shook off snowflakes from my curls.
As I waited for the small waitress to bring me
my cranberry scone and a large cup of steaming tea, I opened my notebook and
started reading the notes I had taken. It was a very hard case, a young patient
with a rare tumor compressing his bile duct – presenting with jaundice, looking
like the most recent character of The
Simpsons. The previous surgeon in charge of the case had announced it to be
unresectable, which gave him about three months of life expectancy. At the age
of thirty, you are seldom ready for your life to end – least of all without throwing
a good fight.
And that was what I was planning to offer him –
a risky procedure, only done in the past by a handful of surgeons in the
country. If it worked, he would be cancer free – and it was my job to guarantee
it worked. I had barely slept the last couple of nights, immersed in planning
the surgery to the finest detail.
I loved my job, fiercely – even in the moments
I hated it. I never lost the tingling on my palms when I held the scalpel or
the sudden feel of a jump inside my belly, like I had missed a step, whenever I
finished a hazardous procedure. Besides, it was a very welcome distraction from
the wreckage of my personal life.
I sipped my tea, delighted with the smoky taste
of the Highland blend, strong and homely on the back of my tongue. It reminded
me of the taste of his skin against
my lips and I swallowed hard, slightly shaking my head to disperse unwelcome
The bell above the door rang, a small tornado
of snow allowed in as new customers entered the cosy place. I bit the back of
my pencil, tilting my head to better discern an approach, as I mobilized the
invisible pancreas before me. I smiled, seeing the vessels and ducts so well
exposed in the eye of my mind, ready to be conquered, and raised my eyes to ask
for a second congratulatory scone.
I saw his back but recognized him immediately –
I had kissed that spot just behind his
ear, where his hair curled at the nape, countless times.
He was wearing his pilot uniform underneath his
overcoat, the flight captain’s hat placed next to his elbow on the table. I had
a sudden flash of his hands placing that hat on my head, a playful smile on his
full lips, his slightly callused hands roaming my otherwise naked body. No.
Without thinking, I was already making myself
small on my table, shrinking to the point where I could almost hide under the
tasteful tablecloth – wishing I had gone to another place, in another time, in
Only then I noticed he had company - a cute
blonde girl wearing stewardess clothes, her lips painted red to match the satin
scarf prettily tied around her neck in a bow. She sat in front of him on the
table, a complicit smile plastered on her face, as he talked – probably sharing
something about a recent trip.
He was always coming and going, flying around
the world – I remembered all too well setting my alarm to the middle of the
night, just so I could listen to his voice in Tokyo. Kissing him goodbye – there had been so many goodbyes, not enough
hellos – before he left to New York. Texting him, unsure where in the world
he was exactly – but painfully aware it wasn’t by my side.
The nights became so long, always craving,
always wondering. I felt split in two, half of myself scattered in the wind,
travelling on the air - while the other half was forced to anchor it, bearing
down, struggling with heaviness. There weren’t enough kisses to ease the
constant ache, as much as he tried – and
he had tried.
“Do ye not want me
anymore?” He had
asked me on the final night, broken – Oh,
I hadn’t answered him and in my silence he took
his leave, shoulders hunched in pain. In truth, I couldn’t fathom a time when I
wouldn’t want him – and that was the problem, wasn’t it? I kept wanting and wanting and wanting, wanting so much
everything hurt, wanting so much I feared I would physically break.
The flight attendant touched his hand – to my
horror he didn’t shy away from it. It lingered there, natural and possessive,
and I felt the scone doing cartwheels inside my stomach like a flour acrobat.
She leaned over and told him something,
slightly sticking her tongue out in mischief and he laughed. Throat and lungs
and vocal chords, clapping and singing, an orchestra on a perfect rendition of
amusement. Standing ovation from the crowd. Claire Beauchamp dead in the
He used to laugh like that with me. Jamie
always laughed with his entire body. He was that kind of man – whole in
everything he did. I recalled the sensation of his laugh as I laid my cheek on
his chest, a scientist studying the mechanisms of happiness. For a moment I
closed my eyes and covered them with my hand, foolishly disturbed by the
realization I didn’t hold his laughter in exclusiveness.
Jamie looked happy. I could see the outline of
his smile, the corners of his mouth turned up in contentment. Had he been that
happy with me, once? Before I filled our lives with insecurities, demands and frailties?
She squeezed his hand – fingers touching, skin
meeting, hearts melting? - and got up, putting on her elegant coat. With a
swish of blonde hair, she kissed his cheek – clearly no amiable kiss demanded
such duration, in my opinion – and with a light caress on his forehead, left
him finally alone.
He looked around, searching for the waitress to
ask for a refill and – of course – spotted me. It was like standing on stage,
two spotlights beaming on us, everything else left in darkness. Jamie glanced
at me and I proudly endured his gaze, asserting that I saw his happiness and
wasn’t shaken at all by it. Liar.
made my way to his table, a slug crawling on a lettuce leaf, ugly but brave. I
seemed to be ken on eating every crumb of my cake of sorrow and then smile,
pretending it was sweet.
“Hello, Jamie.” I greeted him, bracing myself
on the notebook I carried. His hair was somewhat shorter than the last time I
had seen him, a couple of months ago, his uniform impeccable, the tie on his
neck just a bit loose. I used to make his knots and suddenly panicked, fearing
that the blonde girl was a master of turns and twists, able of fixing his heart
as well as his tie.
“Hello, Claire.” Jamie replied, his voice
cautious. “How are ye?”
“Good.” I smiled nervously. “Are you back from
“Aye.” He fidgeted with the mug in front of
him, a soft hesitant smile on his lips. “Just got back from Brazil. It was a
wee furnace there.”
“Ah.” I swallowed hard, struggling to come up
with other pleasantries I could share with him. Do you smile in your sleep when she touches you? “You look good.
“What are ye asking me, Claire?” He avoided my
gaze, his face abruptly serious.
“Nothing.” I replied in a hoarse voice, well
aware that he could spot the tears forming on the corners of my eyes, in the
fountains of my soul. “Just that. You looked happy with her.”
“She’s a good lass.” He glared at me, his eyes
outrageously blue and intent. “She understands what life is for me. I feel that
I can talk to her.”
“As you couldn’t talk to me?” I tried to smile
again and failed miserably, the glass of my face polished and glistening,
reflecting the thousands of small sorrows hidden in the corners of my eyes.
“I told ye all my soul and heart.” Jamie
lowered his eyes, grabbing his hat. “In the end it wasna enough. That is my utmost
regret, Claire - that it wasna enough.”
I stood there, speechless, as he gathered his
things and left. I thought of the bleeders that elude the most capable surgeon,
the cardiac arrest that lasts forever, the hands inside where we are most
private, touching the core of what we are, unable to reach what had been lost.
I slammed my heart at him as he closed the door behind him – “Jamie!” – knowing all too well I had no
one to blame but myself. I had traded all for nothing, convinced it was a
worthy bargain – blind, blind, fool.
I crawled home, shaken to the very marrow of my
bones, oozing love and loss – sticky and queasy with it. In medical school they
had told me how the brain works to protect itself – the clever barrier
surrounding it, the plasticity, the temperature regulation – and yet my brain
seemed decided to finish me, incessantly playing memories of Jamie, smacking me
with my own recklessness. I had no self-preservation left, for I loved him to
the atoms of me.
I had seen him happy without me – there was joy
there to be sure, in knowing him well. But the pain was almost unbearable, no
last redoubt of magical thinking left, where I could hide and pretend we would
find our way back to each other. He was
gone. Pushed away by my own two hands.
I collapsed on the couch, curling into fetal
position, making myself small and smaller. My ears were filled with the sounds
of my own heart and I willed him to stop, to let go of beating, to be still and
let me be.
He kissed my cheek on
our first date. I kissed his lips on the second. Loved all of himself by the
tenth. My heart leapt when I saw him, tall and gallant in his uniform, almost
running to hold me in his arms at the hospital. When he told me flying was his
second favourite thing. When he told me I was first. Red Jamie, my Jamie.
A knock on the door, fast and rhythmed. A
secret code for the lover coming.
I padded to the door, afraid and wanting. Hopeful.
I opened the door and he was standing there,
snowflakes turning into rivers on the brim of his hat. He reached out with his
hand and I took it, already knowing I’d never let go again.
“I was happier with ye.” He whispered in a
husky voice. And I remembered it all, the happiness and love I’d known, waiting
in him as kisses on his lips.
I followed all the rules, when I came here the first time. Listened to all of the stories, the tips, believed all of the warnings and the worries. Watched some classmates disappear, sometimes covered with excuses of transfers, sometimes not, watched suspiciously or with awed eyes to those who were suspected to be other.
But I never saw a single thing. I never saw the creatures late in the library, I never heard things scratching on my windows, and I never felt eyes on the back of my neck walking home in all the dark, clutching iron nails in my jacket pockets. I’m from the South, you see, and down there we don’t have this Fae nonsense. There’s no flimsy fairy circle to be warned about, no rock in the middle of the road; sure, I’d read the fables, but that’s all they were to me. Fables.
I believed in something different. That’s all it came down to; belief. So when I brought the shrine with me, and gave it its own shelf, I shouldn’t’ve been surprised that everything left me alone for the first year. I shouldn’t’ve been surprised that, as I was deaf to my gods, so was I blind to the Fae. (You learn to listen in other ways.)
It was only that first summer, when I wore something other than a t-shirt for the first time, and my ankh tattoo finally was blessed by the sun for the first time, and my friend flinched away from me when I turned to talk to someone, it was only then that I started to take note. I couldn’t see them - of course, this will come as no surprise - I couldn’t see them, I couldn’t hear or touch them, not like some of my friends swore they could, but. When I was holding that ankh necklace, when I was wearing that tattoo, when I was believing, they could tell. I learned which days to wear the necklace over my shirts, and which days to hide it under the binder.
It wasn’t until two years later, when I painted gold onto my eyelids, that I could see for the first time. But that’s getting ahead of myself. I had two years of knowing nothing; of seeing friends Taken and gone, of some of them coming back, of wondering what it was that I wasn’t seeing, and wondering when my belief wasn’t going to hold me safe anymore. I brought my cat up to campus, in one of the apartments nearby (did the campus own these? were they just affiliated with it? I’m still not sure, to this day) and then when I set up my shrine, certain friends stopped coming in without permission. My cat followed me about the small space, over and over again, waited for me by the door every single day, and purred on my lap for hours. (It wasn’t until years later that I would call him a “familiar” for the first time.)
The next year was rough. I still never saw a thing; I made friends, I joined clubs, I branched out to new places and new people and new classes, I drew fantastical things in my sketchbook, I wondered and wondered whether the softest tone of a bell I heard in one class was something Other, I wondered and wondered whether the thunderclap that we all heard one day with clear sky was something Other, and yet I never knew anything for sure.
I stopped carrying iron, stopped wasting my ramen packets (that stuff is so, so bland without it, so I savored every possibly last bite I got) stuffing them in pockets, stopped wondering. I stopped looking at certain students with awe and wonder, stopped darting glances over my shoulder late at night, stopped pretending to have seen something my classmates had. I had followed all the rules; done everything right; and never seen a thing. I had friends who would swear up and down and around the mountain that they were real, that the Gentry (their word, never mine), had done this or that, that they had seen something or other, but never me. It was a quaint university, that was for sure, but was it really magical?
And then I saw her. She was the first person to ever seem More, to me, the first person to shine in my eyes like she had some kind of luck brimming in her smile, the first person to freeze me solid with her laugh (oh, there were others, who sent shivers all up and down my spine in the best ways, but this one, this one was different somehow) and the first person to touch the fox tail I’d worn for years with wonder, and not disgust or barely-hidden half-curiosity half-abhorrence.
I bribed her with gummy sharks, all the while thinking about the fables - for, to me, they were truly only fables - of eating food in the Fae world, of being stuck there forever. All the while wondering breathlessly about the idea that maybe, for the first time, I was Seeing.
I met her again on the lawn, looking for someone else, and I sat and found that she, too, drew fantastical things and creatures without name. I found that she wore no shoes, and when she laughed I wanted to listen to the sound forever. And when her eyes glittered just so, then I wanted to drown in their blue.
I bribed her with gummy sharks, and dances, and honesty; the greatest gift that one could give on this campus, I had learned, and I’d honed mine to a brutal point. And, eventually, when I tangled my fingers finally in that curly ocean of teal, dyed colors and colors that I did not know could come in a tube or a on a brush, I felt like magic for a moment.
It wasn’t until she flinched at the first mirror that I started to suspect anything, for real. It wasn’t until then that my heart knew, and my mouth started speaking with that brutal honesty it was so good at. It wasn’t until then that something in my gut changed, something in my heart stirred, and something in my hearing clicked. I heard padding footsteps on the path behind me, that night, felt something curling in the mist around me, that night, as I walked away from her dorm.
I still didn’t believe it. Not really, not truly; but I did clutch to my necklace when I walked away, a little too fast, and I did relax in my car, sheathed in metal, a little too much.
She changed me.
And when I told her my stories, her eyes lit up, and when she told me her worlds, I listened with rapter attention than I had paid anyone here, shivers dancing on my spine and gooseflesh on my arms (no feathers; I was embarrassed to admit even to myself that I had checked, later, in the bathroom, alone with my cat.) and something shivering new in my heart. And when she looked at me, I felt like I had become the center of every vision on earth; and when she laughed for me, the feelings that swelled in my heart swelled without name; and when I kissed her, I thought that it was nothing more than what it was; smiles and flattery and - daresay - love.
But then the meat in the dining hall tasted a little bit different that night. But then the salt burned my tongue a little more than it should - how should salt burn your tongue, anyways? How do you describe what should and shouldn’t taste, how things changed just enough to notice them but only once, because pineapple and oranges taste so good, how had I never tried those before?
I’m getting away from myself again. It’s easy; easy to get lost. Maybe that’s what they mean by Taken, sometimes. Maybe that’s why english majors and storytellers and musicians are the most oft to come back.
Anyways. It entered my life in bursts, leaps and bounds, fits and starts: the half feral cats purred at my touch, the crows regarded me with careful eyes, the rain kissed my lips and dusted my eyelashes like gems. The music spoke back to me, random patterns finding less random and more sass; the tarot deck she would push into my hands would speak louder, eventually.
She called me beautiful; and I had no words to reply. She called me divine, and my heart sung out in response so loud and so unerringly that I could not say no, and within a month I had inked it into my skin.
The artist gave me rose quartz to hold, told me that there is no divinity without pain, and the sigils on my arms burned like fire the first time I stepped foot back on campus. But that was alright. Because I could hear them now, because I met the fox eyes and lightly glowing gazes with my own raised high, with a proudness that had infected me, somewhere, when someone a little less human and a little too magic had told me I’ll have enough confidence for the both of us, and at the end of that winter everything had changed.
I mean that mundanely, of course. I couldn’t See anything yet, but new scars stretched across my chest and suddenly, shirtlessness was possible, and suddenly, my tattoos meant something more, and suddenly, I was myself and there was no other way to be. I convinced her she was Fae at some point, over that break, too. With whispered words beneath blue fairy lights, and the snow trapping us alone, with my heart beating so much closer to the outside world than it had been, wrapped in a form that wasn’t quite mine, we spun tales at one another until she was half joking to worship me, and I was half joking to change my piercings out for less iron ones.
The joke stopped the day I painted gold onto my eyelids. With her supervision, and my nervousness - just a little bit of makeup - just a little bit of makeup - we surrounded my eyes in gold and she smiled, by my gods did she smile, and my heart felt so radiant I could not want for anything else in that moment.
And then I left her dorm to trek my way home, to my cat, and my lights, and my bed - sorrowfully empty - and when I raised my head to meet the eyes of another student, I had to look twice as high as I ever had before.
As it turns out, the Fae have an agreement - this Court with others, that Court with some, ancient beings with ancient beings, and - for me at least, far be it for me to speak for others - occasionally, the child of the divine. All it takes is belief - belief in the Fae, belief in the rumors, belief in the iron around your fingers and the salt in your pockets - belief in what will and will not work, belief in the world around you and the one that you cannot see - and belief in your own kind of magic.
I believed hard enough in the divine touching me - and, maybe, roped a child of the Fae into speaking it into truth - that maybe they did. And now I never leave the house with my eyes unburdened by gold, without my fingers wrapped in a carefully picked pattern of gold and iron rings, without the glitter of divinity speckling my skin, without the pride in myself decorating my features, inspired by someone who won’t use her roommates’ iron cutlery anymore.
Shawn lets out a shaky breath as he kneels in front of her. He
can’t bring himself to look at her. He must look pathetic, kneeling, naked in
front of her, hard cock flushed red.
“Neglecting your health again? Not getting enough sleep? We
talked about this Shawn…” she chastises him, “Look at me.”
His eyes squeeze shut as shame wells up in him, his cheeks
flushing. A bead of precome drools down his cock. Disgraceful. A small, soft, unyielding hand grips the nape of his
neck, pulling harshly on his short locks of hair. A breathy moan leaves his
mouth as he is forced to look at her, his cheeks burning with humiliation.
“I said, look at me Shawn,“ she commands him, steel in her
voice. His eyes open, looking up at his goddess of a girlfriend. Her fingers,
buried in his curls, tighten their grip as she raises one eyebrow, suspicion in
her eyes. Oh god, she can’t find out. She pulls on his hair and his mouth opens
on a gasp, blood rushing to his cock. Shameful.
“Shawn… Do you like that?”
she asks him. He tries to look away, but her grip only tightens. He bites his
lip, trying desperately to contain the whimper of pleasure-pain.
“I asked you a question, boy. Do you like that?” The control in
her voice sears his skin, and a flush spreads down his chest.
“I - I don’t,” he stutters. Her disbelieving stare
embarrasses him all the more. She can’t know what a disgusting kink he has. How deeply disturbed he is. Disgraceful.
“Do not lie to me, pet. Your cock is dripping all over the
place.” Her matter of fact tone only adds to his embarrassment.
“I’m sorry love. I’ll leave, I promise just- don’t- please don’t
tell anyone?” he begs as he makes to get up, only to have her tiny fist tangle
in his hair and push him onto his knees again. He looks up at her, confusion
swirling inside him.
“You’re not going anywhere Shawn. I didn’t give you permission
to leave did I?” The velvet soft power of her voice turns his insides to
liquid. His mouth parts on a silent plead.
“Tell me what you like, pet.”
“Don’t.“ He corrects himself, “Please don’t.”
What was he
pleading for? For her to stop her torture or for her to continue the oh-so-good
humiliation? His cheeks are burning, probably permanently stained red.
“I like- “He starts biting his tongue as she pulls on his hair
again, bolts of pleasure shooting through his body. His eyes close as the
shameful delight of pain coats his bones with a comforting warmth.
“You love pain,” she states flatly, with no room for
argument. His eyes fly open, the warmth turning to ice, freezing him in place,
choking him with fear. Revolting.
Never would she be able to overlook the repulsive nature of his kink.
“Hey, hey, Shawn. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s a kink, it’s not
the end of the world.” Genuine concern and confusion glaze her voice as she
brings her hand under his chin, forcing him to look at her. “Darling what’s
wrong?” Love, concern and pain are in her eyes; there is no hate, no disdain,
no disgust. A sigh of relief rattles out of him as her thumb strokes his cheek
in soothing circles.
“It’s mo- I like it- It’s more than just pain,“ he
whispers. A fresh wave of red rushes to his cheeks at her questioning gaze.
“Maybe like- I think- uhm… humiliation,” he mumbles
hurriedly, punching the words out, leaving them hanging in the room.
“Be more specific, pet. I need to know exactly what you like so
that I know what to do,“ she answers. She’s kind and gentle and genuine;
he’s surprised and shocked that she wants to know more.
“Being told how needy I look… Biting, may- maybe scratching…”
His voice wavers as he lets the heavy words settle.
“What about me being completely in control?” she asks, in a
steady, soothing voice. He hesitates.
“Shawn.” He looks at her. Open, honest eyes beg him for the
“I might… like it… And- and powerplay.” His brown eyes search
her beautiful face for a trace of loathing. How could she simply be alright
“What else, baby?” Comforting fingers carding through his hair,
his heart rate finally slows just a bit. Thankfully she hasn’t run yet.
“Kneeling in front of you like this… completely naked while you
are still wearing your underwear.” He lets out, trying to breathe properly. His
courage sinks again as he realises he just confessed to all the nasty things he
had only ever thought.
“Shawn. I love you. That won’t change because of some kink you
have. I love you the way you are, pain kink and all. Do you trust me?” Her
bright bright eyes study him carefully.
“I do.” He leans into her hand as it cups his cheek. The feel of
his burning skin against her soft fingers calms the riot in his head.
“Good.” She takes a deep breath. “Now. I need to punish you for hiding
this from me,” she teases, a small smile playing around her lips. He gulps
as his cock hardens again. Her eyes drop to his crotch, chuckling at his quick
reaction. She stands up, moving behind him. He tries to look at her but her
hand tightening in his hair prevents it. Shawn feels her foot against his ass.
“Crawl towards the bed. Hands on the mattress.” Her controlled
voice raises goosebumps on his skin. He is pressed against the bed. Her hand
gently turns his head to the side and presses it forward into the mattress. Her
fingers leave his hair, trailing down the nape of his neck, across his back. He
fists the blanket, muscles bunching, trying to be as still as possible. Her
fingernails rake down his back and a surprised moan leaves his lips, his hips
“Now. That is a beautiful sound, pet,“ she whispers
appreciatively against his ear. She presses a little kiss above his ear and a
breath wheezes out of him.
“Please.” He manages to choke the word out as her nails dig
painfully, tantalizingly, into his
back. A whine tumbles from his mouth. Shawn feels her lips curving into a smile
against the shell of his ear. Precome dribbles from his cock, his eyes
squeezing shut as she murmurs words of praise against his skin.
“Open your eyes Shawn.” His eyes half lidded when he manages to
open them. Her right hand finds its way into his hair, twisting itself into the
curls and pulling his face up a little. Her left hand moves to his throat,
holding it in a comfortably tight grip. She tilts his head up, angling his face
towards her. His lips are parted, swollen from biting them as he looks at her.
Her left thumb presses into the plush flesh, his tongue hesitatingly licking
“My pretty boy,” she says, praise in her voice. Shawn
preens under her words. He sighs, digging his fingers deeper into the blanket.
“Come on. Up you go on the bed.” Her low command resonates
through his body. He scrabbles to his feet, lying down on the mattress, kicking
the blanket into the corner. He looks at her expectantly. She bites her lip,
trying to hide an amused smile.
“Grip the headboard for me,“ she orders as she pulls off
her panties, the motion torturously slow. “Now, this is your punishment.” She
unhooks her bra as she speaks. "You will not remove your hands from that
headboard. You will not touch me; I won’t restrain you.” Her breasts are
finally bare and he gulps, trying desperately to focus on her words. “If you
disobey, I will stop and I will get myself off on your thigh. And you have to
watch and stay hard and untouched. Do you understand pet?”
His hands fly to the headboard as he whimpers yes. She straddles him, her small
fingers wrapping around his cock. Her nails not so accidentally scratch lightly
down the length of it. His hands grip the bed, frantically trying to obey her
rules. A moan punches out of him as she leans forward, her left hand burying
itself into his shoulder muscles. Her nipples graze his heaving chest as she
kisses his neck. Teeth and tongue, pain and pleasure, mixing into one
breath-stealing combination. Whimpers and pleads tumble from his lips at his
hips buck into her fist. Her lips move down his throat, a patchwork of bruises
and bites blossoming on his skin. His back arches as she sucks a dark bruise
next to his Adam’s apple. She moves down the column of his neck, sucking one
more hickey at the base of throat.
“Mhm. All mine now,” she mumbles to herself, admiring her
work, hickeys and bites covering his neck. Marking him as hers. A moan of her
name spills from his mouth. His arms pulling at the headboard making it creak
under his strength. She shuffles up his body, her thighs on either side of his
face. His arms pressing into her soft skin, his fingers closing around the bars
of the headboard convulsively.
“Do you think you deserve it? Do you deserve to eat my pussy
Shawn?” She taunts him, his lips so so close to her.
“Yes, please- I’m good. I- please let me. Please let me make you
come.” He pleads her. His cheeks turn red at the desperation in his voice.
“Alright pet. You’ve been good,“ she acknowledges as she
lowers herself onto his mouth. His lips wrap around her clit, causing a shudder
to go through her body. He sucks on the bud, his teeth occasionally grazing
her, a sharp intake of breath her only response. He lets go of her clit,
licking her pussy, his tongue entering her. Sweet delicious wetness coats his
tongue. Her hand reaches into his hair, pulling on it as she rocks against his
face. Small moans of praise and his name are his reward. Thrusting into her, he
gets the most beautiful response from her. She throws her head back, tightening
her grip on his hair, moaning his name. He feels her walls tightening around
his tongue, his nose bumping against her pubic bone as she grinds on his face.
“Shawn. I’m-“ She moans as her orgasm takes her over. The hand
in his hair tenses further, her nails scratching against his scalp, sparks of
pain coursing down his spine. A strangled moan escapes him. She writhes on top
of him, the vibrations of his moan traveling up her spine.
She remains on his face for a minute longer, catching her
“You did great baby.” Her praise washes over him as she slowly
moves down his body stopping when her wet pussy is resting against his abs. A
tortured sigh leaves him at the feeling. She leans over him, reaching for the
bedside table. Her delicious scent wafts over him, riling him up further. The
tell-tale crinkling sound of the condom wrapper makes him turn his face into
his arm. Too much. He needs to think.
His eyes shoot open as he feels the latex glide down his shaft. God have mercy on him.
“You are doing wonderfully Shawn,” she tells him as she
slowly lifts herself up. His cock nudges against her pussy. She is going kill him. She slowly sinks
down onto him and his eyes roll back into his head. Her breath hitches almost
inaudibly as he finally bottoms out. Her nails scrape his abdomen, leaving red
scratches in their wake, his muscles tightening under her fingertips. She
starts moving in slow figure eights, grinding against his crotch. His cock in a
vice-like velvety grip. The wood creaks as he tightens his hold on the
headboard further. He throws his head back, burying it into the pillow. Her
hands digging into his flesh, bruising it delightfully, make moans fall freely
from his lips. He is begging her for mercy, for more, for more pain. She
rakes her nails down his torso, over his nipple, a loud whine punching out of
him. He turns his face away from her, hiding in his arm.
“No Shawn. None of that.” She grabs his chin, forcing him to
look at her. She bends forward, capturing his bottom lip between her teeth.
Slowly pulling on it, gently biting down on it, he can only whimper at the
excruciating pleasure of the pain. She rolls her hips forward, her walls
tightening around him. Her pubic bone grinds against his skin. Her fluttering
walls tense around him as his teeth dig into his bottom lip. He is so, so
“Please.” He begs her, struggling to get the word past his lips.
“Please what, pet?” she asks, rocking against him.
“Hurt me more,“ he pleads in a sigh, a fresh wave of heat
making his cheeks flush. How could he ask
She runs her nails across his nipple, pinching it between her
nails. His hips buck into her as her pussy clenches around him. Her right hand
travels up his torso as her left one remains firmly on his chest. She reaches
the base of his throat, his eyes closing in anticipation. Small fingers wrap
around his neck for the second time that night. Yes. He thrusts up into her as the pressure against his throat
“Let me- please. Let me come,” he begs, a blush spreading
down his chest.
“Come for me, pet,“ she murmurs under her breath. He tilts
his head back, his mouth dropping open as his orgasm washes over him. A
shattered moan punches out of him as he rides out his high. She rolls off of
him, letting them catch their breath. She discards of the used condom in the
bathroom, returning with a wet washcloth. She carefully cleans his face and his
“You?” He croaks out,
letting go of the headboard.
“Already did it in the bathroom darling.” She smiles at him
softly. A blush blossoms on his cheeks. How
can he ask her to hurt him? God. He’s despicable.
“Shawn. Stop right now.” She sits on his chest again, forcing
him to look at her. Her eyebrows furrow in anger and pain. He is revolting.
“Stop it, please. I love you the way you are Shawn! I couldn’t
care less if you had a pain kink! I would still be with you if you had a foot
fetish and could only fall asleep with my foot in your hands! I. Love.
You,” she tells him, desperately looking into his eyes, begging him to see
that she is telling the truth.
“Believe me. Please. I love you the way you are, kinks and all.
And what does it say about me? Enjoying biting you and pulling your hair and
hurting you. Doesn’t that make me a monster?” She speaks calmly, apparently
unperturbed by this, but his eyes widen at her accusations.
“No! Never! Just because you like something doesn’t make you a…”
Realisation dawns on him. Her beaming cheeky grin tells him she expected his
answer. He rolls his eyes at her, pulling her down into a slow, lazy kiss. Her
squeaked laugh of delight as he flips them over make him smile.
lana is beautiful and so is this fic. i think my tag for it was just a bunch of exclamation points which basically means that i’ll be in love with it forever and never be able to properly use words when talking about it.
Clarke gets dirt stuck under her nails, Bellamy always keeps books at hand, they are both a mess but somewhere between throwing tomatoes at each other and hiding, they fall in love.
Or: Bellarke in the countryside.
Prompt: Imagine Bellarke in Modern AU. With Sunday brunches on the back porch and whispered I love yous when no one else is listening.
with the possibility of coming across as too much, let me just say that there are few people who have stolen my heart in the degree that Sara has. That being said, even if I didn’t love her to the moon and back, I would still be able to see beautiful talent, and that is definitely something that my dear friend has. So here’s the short summary of my latest obsession of hers:
It’s been two years since the spaceship Aphelion mysteriously disappeared, its crew branded by the ARK as traitors to be shot on sight. Jake Griffin was on that ship, and with him, a dangerous secret that could change civilized space forever.
Now, Clarke wants some answers - and revenge, if she can get it. Bellamy wants a bigger ship - specifically, Clarke’s. Wells wants to fix the system his father broke. Octavia wants a little fun. Miller wants everyone to stop making poor life choices. Harper wants to kiss the new girl. And Raven? Well, Raven just wants to blow shit up.
The universe won’t know what’s hit it. (Space pirates AU!)
Listen. I love social media aus, nerdy!Bellamy and thirsty!Clarke. Thankfully this fic has a little of all that. It also has adorable fanboy Jas and that’s also a plus for me. This one has stayed with me since the night i read it, so it’s def up there on my faves list.
Clarke is pretty sure Bellamy is the hottest lyft driver she’s ever had, and it certainly doesn’t hurt that he’s a pretty great conversationalist, too. When she finds out him and Raven used to work together, it feels natural to become friends. She just never thought they’d get along quite so well, or that their lives would come together so easily, or that she’d fall madly in love with him. But that’s life.
aka: a social media au incorporating text messages, snapchats, tweets, and instagrams that definitely no one asked for.
i love tierney more than i love most people on this god forsaken site. her writing is always like coming home which is way too cheesy even for me. so here. read this summary so i dont become a blubbering mess.
She finds Bellamy back on that floral couch. They’d moved it into the screened room for the winter, and then back out again once the days grew long and warm. It was becoming another tradition, apparently.
And so was this; him smoking on the sofa, her head on his shoulder, voices low in the early morning while everyone else was asleep and the world felt like it belonged to them, just for the moment.
“Someone had fun,” he teases, flicking at a spot on her neck. Clarke reaches up to feel the tender skin; Glass must have given her a hickey while they were getting carried away.
She flushes, but he’s looking back at the sunrise. “I always have fun,” she reminds him, and he groans.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“This is my favorite part, though,” Clarke says, curling up a little more against him so he’ll put his arm around her for warmth. She’s still kind of drunk, so she’s not sure if she’s making sense, but she trusts that he’ll get it. Bellamy always seems to understand what she means. “Just–us. It’s my favorite.”
Bellamy stubs out his cigarette and leans back against her. “Mine too.”
That’s all I have time for tonight, but I do have a longer one in my drafts that I plan on finishing and publishing soon.
I will also use this to shamelessly self promo - I’m taking requests for the next two weeks bc HOLIDAYS! no more teaching for me for two weeks and that is glorious.
so pls send in any and all prompts you want filled by yours truly
His fingers mindlessly played with her hair as her head rested in his lap. The glow from the television illuminated the room, as it was the only source of light in the pitch black house.
“You tired yet?” He yawned.
“No.” She hummed, struggling to keep her eyes open. Her eyes were heavy with sleep as she tried to pay attention to the blurring tv screen.
“Did you just lie to me?” He smirked, knowing that she was about to fall asleep at any moment.
She shut her eyes softly as she snuggled closer onto his lap.
“Oh no you don’t.” He told her as he reached for the remote, bouncing his legs up and down startling her. “Don’t you start getting all comfortable now or else you won’t want get up and you’ll end up falling asleep on me again.”