“You wanna hear about one of the first times I was kissed? Back when I
was like, eh, fourteen years old, I think?” There were all the
tell-tale signs of putting one’s foot in one’s mouth, except that one,
all the embarrassment was missing, and two, it was Yang doing the
talking, and she was notoriously unflusterable. “One of those things you
probably shouldn’t ever mention to my dad.”
Well, almost unflusterable, Blake took a bit of pride in. She looked good when she blushed.
Blake’s shoulders were not double-jointed, and patting her own back was
a waste of time when Yang had a question that needed answering, anyway.
“Seems like an odd time to be asking your girlfriend. But sure. Why not?”
Yang laughed, and
Blake noticed. She always did. “Heh, heh. Think it just hit me how much of a
jerk I’m gonna sound like. I … I can’t remember his name? Orange?
Verde? Wasn’t Salamander … I think?”
“Was his middle name
‘regret’?” Blake felt her sense of competition getting drunk. It was at a
party, maybe even a funeral, saying things it shouldn’t have been, and
Blake kept nudging it, trying to get it to act sympathetic. “Or 'bad at
kissing’?” For goodness’ sake.
“Bad at kissing.” Yang repeated. It
wasn’t an answer. It was a question. “Have you ever bitten into, like, a
really good burger? Cheese is sort of melted, but not really, it’s
juicy, buns are slightly firm but fluffy under the crust? Real meaty?”
of the Faunus I knew back in the White Fang insisted on being
vegetarian. I wasn’t one of them. I prefer fish, as a general rule,”
Twitch the ears, because there really wasn’t any such thing as subtlety
when Yang was looking at her the way she was. “But to answer your
question, yes. I’ve had a good burger or two in my day.”
silent, for a moment. It was like how the atmosphere lacked any coherent
sense of moisture, just before the sky opened up and it began to rain.
“You ever noticed how biting into that burger is nothing like kissing
Blake laughed, wondering if this was how it felt to
spontaneously turn into a summer squall. “Are you really saying that
kissing your mystery date was more like eating a sandwich?”
“You’re gonna have to ask him, not me. Trust me, I didn’t have anything to do with anything.”
Yang covered half her face with the palm of her hand. If she was trying
to hide the growing smile, she wasn’t doing a very good job of it. “He
goes in for the kill and all I can think is, please don’t eat me. Seriously, for a quiet, stoic kind of guy his mouth was absolutely huge. And he made it bigger.”
time a the bad guy in a film of some sort gave his maniacal laughter,
hold the award for subtle acting, Blake couldn’t help but it think it
sounded totally fake. To her chagrin, she was proving herself almost
completely wrong. “Sounds like you got yourself a real catch, there.”
and release.” Yang would go fishing with no reel, lure, or even
galoshes, and the crooked grin on her face did more to prove it than a
sunny day, a river, and three hours to herself could ever do. “He was
kind of cute, too – had this accent, which I thought was totally hot
back then. Good listener. Really good hair. And, you know, because I was
fourteen, I thought that was all you needed?”
“Until he devoured
you.” Blake murmured, because she didn’t trust herself to say anything
louder without the laughter slamming into whatever Yang was driving at
like a train with spectacularly bad impulse control.
“Sad part? I
think he might have really enjoy himself.” Yang chewed the next sentence over for a bit before actually saying anything. “I felt so bad, because all I felt before then was,
seriously, terror. Not uncomfortable or anything; he asked me if he could kiss me and all that jazz. It’s just, like I said, he was bad at it. But
he came away real slow and looked at me like I was, I dunno, some
statue the greatest artist in the world just finished working on.”
Yang’s mouth twinged upwards. Not a smile. Yang smiled like she was
walking a dog, and athletic enough not to bother with a leash. This was
more like posting up a sign on a post that said 'Dog Walker for Hire’.
“He said, 'Bugger’. And he meant it.”
“Words are weird
things.” Blake watched her own roll down the hill and settle before
grabbing the next ball of a sentence. “Not feeling the same way is
“It wasn’t dramatic or anything. Wasn’t like
he kidnapped my little sister and told me unless I married him, he’d
make her pay, or something like that. He wasn’t talking about blowing up
people or crushing humanity beneath his heel, or anything you’ve
probably had to put up with. It wasn’t even that he kissed bad, really.
If I’d really liked him …” Yang trailed off. Blake would have to
make a note of that in her journal, because the occasion wasn’t likely
to make a second go-round of the celebrity circuit. “I just didn’t
really like him like that. All there was to it.”
Blake looked over
to her sense of competition. Maybe she’d be willing to share her drink.
“I know I should probably offer my condolences, but, um …”
turned to face Blake, a little roughly, as though propelled by her
giggling fit. “Aw, come on. Not like I’m sad about it. Everything worked
out in the end! I’ve got you to kiss now!”
“Certainly, you do.”
Blake let her nose tap the tip of Yang’s own. It just, felt. Felt good.
Felt like the right thing to do. Felt. “And I certainly hope I’m a
better kisser than 'Forgettable Regret Johnson’ ended up being.”
fake-thinking pose was classic, down to the gentle hmmm and
scrunched-up eyebrows. The only difference was that instead of tapping
her own chin, Yang tapped Blake’s. “Let me put it this way.” And then
the tapping finger turned into a cup, and Yang kissed her.
Hard, but sweet.
Hard, but sweet, but slow.
certain kisses, for lack of a better term, could be described with
burgers and big mouths, this one might be chronicled as hard candy.
Hard, yes, and sweet, as flavored sugar, and slow to dissolve.
Ambrosia-flavored, too, of course – perhaps that was it, the taste on
Yang’s lips that had always eluded Blake, the difference between
lemonade and lemons, between fruit-flavored sweets and the fruit itself.
Between milkshakes and just ice cream, or just milk, or just syrup.
Whatever it was, it was giving Blake a real sweet tooth.
Other kisses might have consumed her, maybe, from what Yang described. But this one made Blake feel like she was being savored.
only a moment – who cared if the clock on the wall said seven minutes,
Blake knew what was true and what wasn’t – Yang moved back, staring at
Blake through lidded eyes and small smile. Sated. As if one piece of
rock candy could serve as a four-course dinner. “Bugger, Blake.”
Well, if Yang liked Blake’s kisses that much, she could have another one.
A/N: As you can probably tell, this is a - mostly unedited - deleted scene from my other fic, Binary Stars. Heavy on the metaphor, as it were.
a fanmix about everyone’s favorite surgeon with a dark past; including a dash of lawlu
1. Brother - Gerard Way | 2. Looking Away - Kolja Hasenschmerz | 3. Ich Verschwinde - Juli | 4. Black Me Out - Against Me! | 5. Ambulance - My Chemical Romance | 6. This Is Gospel - Panic! at the Disco | 7. Wait For It - Hamilton Cast | 8. Alone Together - Fall Out Boy | 9. Die Schatten Werden Länger - Elisabeth Cast | 10. Warriors - William Beckett | 11. You Hear A Song - Cassadee Pope | 12. Old Scars / Future Hearts - All Time Low
Yay~ it’s done! Presenting Jamie’s headcanon of the Ryuugazaki brothers– Rei and Shion! T'was supposedly a solo pic but I added Rei as an extra coz it looked cute seeing their likeness & difference! It looks so simple but I hope you like it! Shion’s the fourth version of Rei’s brother I have drawn. xD
For the Klaine Advent challenge I’m combining the word prompt with the summary for a Hallmark or Lifetime holiday movie, for maximum cheesiness.
Day one: Anniversary + Kurt tells Santa he wants a boyfriend for Christmas
Twenty minutes left of Christmas hell, twenty minutes to sweet freedom from crying kids and pushy parents, twenty minutes until he never has to don this atrocious elf costume ever again, and he gets peed on. A three weeks to the minute anniversary of the worst holiday decision he’s ever made—and he’s made quite a few—taking a job as a Santa’s helper at the mall is now etched in his memory forever by urine.
At least he can burn the elf costume in effigy now. Kurt grits his teeth—they must be worn down to nubs by now—hands the soggy kid back to his parents, who complain that he hasn’t had his picture with Santa yet.