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foreverindreamlandd · 2 years

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Awake My Soul • 11

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

WC: 3.9k

Summary: It’s been 5 years since zombies first began their invasion, and despite everything you’ve been through, you’ve managed to survive up until this point. Now it’s time to face your most dangerous challenge yet….the grumpy, untrusting, fiercely protective Bucky Barnes.

Chapter Warnings: Canon level violence. Mentions of death, blood, injury, torture.

Series Masterlist / Series Playlist

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Bucky growled, throwing his cards on the ground and crossing his arms in a huff.

Steve chuckled, grabbing the pile in front of him and reshuffling the deck. “Face it, Buck. You’re shit at this game.”

“It’s fucking War, Stevie. There’s literally no strategy to it, just chance.”

The blond cocked his brow. “Then how come I keep kicking your ass?”

Bucky glared at him, a smile creeping up his face. “Alright then, if you’re so good, how about this? If I win this round, you finally have to ask Nat out on a date.”

Steve stopped shuffling, his shoulders rising and falling as he let out a deep breath.

“Buck, I’m not going to ask someone out based on a bet.”

“Then what the fuck is it going to take to get you to do it? You gotta tell me man so that I can be put out of my misery after watching you two pine over each other for years. Should I write her a note with those boxes to check off either yes, no, or maybe? Should I ask Lena to ask her out for you? Honestly this would be so much easier if we still had phones and could text each other-”

“Alright, alright, enough already,” Steve groaned as his friend resolved into a fit of laughter at his obvious annoyance. “I just…I don’t want to make things weird. Besides, she’s amazing. What would someone like her want with a Brooklyn schmuck like me?”

Bucky softened, leaning forward to lightly shove Steve’s arm. “Hey, don’t talk about my best friend like that. You’re the best guy there is, and anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Steve smiled, resuming his shuffling and dealing out cards for the both of them. “Alright, tomorrow, I promise I will seriously consider asking out Natasha.”

A beam lit up Bucky’s face and he clenched his hand into a fist in victory. “With that attitude,I bet you two will be married within the next decade.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Hopefully by that point, you’ll have found someone for yourself, bud.”

Bucky sighed, shaking his head as he collected his cards. “Nah, I don’t think so. I feel like I’m gonna be a lone wolf kinda guy. Makes things easier, you know?”

Steve shrugged. “Might be easier, but I think you’d be seriously missing out on a chance at something amazing. I can’t think of anyone else who deserves to be happy more than you, Buck.”

“Alright, Romeo,” Bucky said, chuckling, “where is this hopeless romantic side of you when it comes to allowing love into your life-”

The overhead lighting in the bell tower flashed off suddenly, the bulb shifting from a faint yellow to a bright, unforgiving red.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, dropping their cards on the ground.

Bucky grabbed his binoculars, scanning the perimeter of the church. “I don’t see anything,” he murmured. “I’ll go down and do a sweep.”

Steve nodded, tossing him a flashlight. “You know the drill. Twice, false alarm. Three-”

“Three times, shit’s going down,” Bucky finished, saluting his friend and leader before grabbing his gear and climbing down the ladder.

“I’ll keep watch up here,” Steve added. “Be careful.”

“Always am!”

“You never are, Buck.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you!”

Bucky pulled out his machete as soon as he got to the bottom, cautiously making his way down the sanctuary of the church. It had to have been around 3am, so the rest of the camp was sleeping in their quarters in the dorms previously used by the nuns who worked here when this used to be a functioning religious establishment.

He heard steps coming from behind him and whipped around, ready to swipe his blade at his attacker.

His body relaxed instantly at the sight of his friend, a smile spread across his face in relief. “Ward, what the fuck are you doing up so late-”

His question was cut off as Ward walked up and landed a right hook across his jaw, body falling over until his head connected with the corner of one of the pews.

That’s when everything faded to black.

Bucky woke a few minutes later as a bright light burned through his closed eyelids. He slowly opened them, the sanctuary spinning for a few seconds, a sharp pain in his head.

It only took a few seconds for him to make out the image before him, and he jumped into action.

The church was on fire.

He looked around, finding the place empty, then ran toward the main doors.

Coulson was laying on the steps of the church entrance, a bullet in between his eyes.

When he looked up, he saw Laura being dragged away by two men in all black, and he sprinted toward them.

One of the men let go of her and pulled out his gun, taking a shot at Bucky, but he missed.

Which allowed Bucky enough time to take the man down with one swing.

Laura - now able to use the right side of her body - grabbed a dagger and plunged it into her other attacker’s neck.

Bucky grabbed her by the arm. “Are you okay?” She nodded. “Where are the others?”

She let out a sob. “Maria, Tony, and Nick are down. Steve ran to the dorms to grab the others. I saw Pepper and Morgan head to the woods.”

“Laur!” Clint ran up to the both of them, face nearly crumbling with relief as he wrapped his wife in his arms. He turned to Bucky. “It’s a shitshow. I don’t know where these guys came from-”

“It was Ward,” Bucky growled. “He led them here.”

Clint’s eyes widened. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

Bucky shook his head. “Not today. The two of you, go find Pepper and Morgan. I’ll send anyone else toward you. If things go bad, just run. Get to the nearest pharmacy.”

Laura gave him a quick hug and the two of them sprinted toward the woods, and Bucky turned his focus back on the dorms.

He could see through the windows that most of the building was up in flames, and the closer he got the more his face burned.

But he couldn’t stop. He had to make sure everyone was safe. He had to find Steve.

Just as he began his ascent up the stairs into the building, Sarah emerged, holding a bloody, unconscious Carol at her side.

Tears streamed down her face. “Bucky,” Sarah cried out, “help me.”

He took hold of Carol's other side, helping to carry her down the stairs.

Sarah jumped up, eyes on the burning building. “My boys,” she sobbed. “They’re still in there. Steve-”

“I got it,” Bucky yelled, already running in. “Get to the woods! Find the others! We’ll get AJ and Cass!”

Tears burned in his eyes from the heat, and Bucky hovered his arm over his face to block it off best he could.

He just had to get to the boys. To Steve.

Little did he know that he was just about to lose any lingering sense of hope that he might have still possessed in a matter of minutes.

“Bucky?” you said softly after a minute of him staring blankly at you. “Are you okay?”

He blinked. “What…what did you just say?”

You swallowed, thumb stroking his cheekbone.

“Steve. I think he’s alive. He was…Hydra has him.”

Bucky shook his head. “That’s impossible-”

“Blond hair? Blue eyes?” Bucky’s own blue eyes widened. “He was taken in four months before I left, meaning it was right around the time you guys said you were attacked. I hardly ever saw him, and they never called him by his first name, I only knew him as Rogers.” You breathed out another small sob. “If I had known, I would have-”

Lips crashed against yours in a needy, feverish kiss.

When Bucky pulled back, his eyes were alight, a small smile creeping on his face.

Your brow furrowed. “You’re not…you’re not mad?”

He shook his head, expression unchanging.

“Steve’s alive,” he stated.

You nodded, a hopeful smile growing on your own face. “Steve’s alive.”

And then you were moving, his metal hand tightly gripping yours as he dragged you out of the building.

Within minutes, you were with Sam in the meeting room, relaying your story to the camp’s new leader. A restless Bucky stood by your side, trying to keep still as his body jittered with nervous and excited energy.

“We have to go,” he blurted out once you were finished. “Now. I’ll let the others know and we can head out by nightfall.”

Sam’s mouth pressed into a thin line, hands tightening around the edge of the desk he was sitting against.

“Bucky,” he said slowly, sternly, “you know it’s not that simple.”

Bucky scoffed. “We can’t just sit here and wait for him to fucking find us, Sam. We have to get him!”

“I’m not saying we sit back and do nothing. Obviously I want to go out and get him just as badly as you do-”

“Then what the hell are we still doing standing here-”

“-but, this is a big thing we’re going up against. We have to come up with a plan. This is a powerhouse you’re suggesting our team - which is much smaller than it was when we first fought them - try and fight on their turf. Yes I want Steve back, but the last thing he’d want would be for us to put our family at risk because we weren’t prepared. Bruce tells me he’s almost done with the blaster weapons, we could start strategizing and Y/n can give us intel on their base.”

You could see your partner shaking his head from the corner of your eye and you turned to look at him, his jaw clenched in frustration. Your arm wrapped around his in comfort.

“Hydra is at least a week away, and that’s if we’re lucky and find horses to ride. Otherwise it’s a month on foot. He could be dead by the time we get there.”

Sam let out a long sigh. “He might already be dead, Buck.”

His body stilled against you. “Do you even fucking care Sam? What the hell is this?” His voice grew louder, angrier.

“Bucky-” you whispered.

“Of course I fucking care!” Sam shouted, standing straight. “And hell, if it were just me I had to worry about I would have left five fucking minutes ago! But it’s not, and I need to look out for what’s left of our pack. I have to make sure Morgan, Cass, and AJ have parents that will return to them! I have to make sure that we can even make it to the Hydra alive so that Steve doesn’t rot in there because we had no idea what we were doing.”

“But-”

“Drop it Bucky,” Sam said with finality. “We’ll meet about this tonight after dinner to discuss next steps.” His face softened. “As soon as we’re ready, we’ll leave. I promise you that. We’re gonna get him back, but we have to ensure that everyone else gets to come back, too.”

Bucky opened his mouth, ready to say something, then shut it, and you wondered if he was going to have any teeth left from how tightly he was clenching them together.

Without a word, he gently released himself from your hold and stormed off, punching a hole in the wall with his vibranium arm.

You flinched, tears welling in your eye from how upset he was.

Maybe you shouldn’t have told him…

“It’s good that you did,” Sam responded to the thought you had apparently said out loud. You turned to him and he gave you an understanding smile. “He deserves to know, and though he’s mad, this is great news.” He sighed, expression now painted with guilt. “I hope….I don’t want you to think that I don’t want to save Steve as soon as possible-”

The hitch in his voice pulled your feet toward him until your arms were wrapping him in a tight hug.

“I know,” you whispered as he returned the embrace. You pulled away. “You’re our leader for a reason, Sam. We trust you, and that includes Bucky. What was it you all kept telling me when I first got here and I thought he hated my guts?”

Sam breathed out a small laugh. “Just give it time.”

You nodded. “Just give it time. He’ll cool off.

He squeezed your arm. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here.”

Another nod. “Me, too. Now, let’s go talk to the others and finally get Steve back.”

Bucky kept to himself for the rest of the night.

Right after you left the meeting room, you went to his, only to find the door closed.

You knocked.

Silence.

You attempted to turn the handle.

Locked.

You tried to ignore the ache in your chest, trying to tell yourself that he needed time. He’d come to you when he was ready.

So with a heavy heart, you stepped away and began telling the group to meet with you and Sam after dinner.

It took a few minutes for the shock to wear off once the two of you laid everything out, but as soon as it did, everyone got to work forming a plan.

Bruce and Peter were finishing final prototypes for the new blasters, and if they passed their tests they could start producing more for at least a few members to hold onto.

Laura and Clint would go out and start collecting horses and board them at a nearby farm to shave off travel time.

Dum Dum would start meal prepping so that the gang had enough food supplies for the journey there and back. Him, Pepper, and Bruce would stay back with the kids.

Yelena and Kate would get to training everyone full time, individually and in groups.

You’d be working with Sam - and hopefully Bucky - to give them details on the Hydra base so that you could plan your attack.

In two weeks, you would be on your way.

Two weeks before you’d be heading back to your prison.

That was the thought constantly nagging you in the back of your brain. Don’t go back. Don’t go back.

You could have stayed behind as the others left. Sam continuously reminded you of that. It was your choice to go or stay. The ramifications of you returning to Hydra were much more dangerous than anyone else.

If there was even a chance that this plan could fail and they could capture you once more, you’d be right back where you were, and they’d be one step closer to finding out how to develop a cure to gain even more power.

It would be very very very bad.

But this was Steve. Shield’s family. Bucky’s family. And that made him yours.

And if there was anything you could do to keep your family safe, you would.

Even if the nagging thought persisted.

Don’t go back.

Don’t. Go. Back.

Bucky stood outside your bedroom door, hand hovering over the handle, fingers twitching as he debated his next moves.

You were most likely asleep, getting some rest in before the two of you were supposed to be on watch.

He just wanted to see you.

One last time.

Before he did something really stupid.

Bucky took a deep breath, closing his eyes as they began to sting with tears, hand going back to his side.

It was too risky.

Too selfish.

It was also unnecessary, because he saw you everytime he closed his eyelids. Could recreate every single detail of what you looked like because it was permanently seared inside his brain.

He took a step back, finding it painfully difficult to walk further away from you.

But this was how it needed to be.

He needed to go save Steve.

If he waited any longer, he could be dead by the time he got there.

He needed to go.

His metal hand tightened around the strap of his bag and he descended down the stairs.

All that was left to do was run to the arsenal room to go grab the bag of food and extra weapons he had packed during the group’s meeting, and then he’d be on his way.

Bucky stopped short when he reached the back corner of the room where the bag was supposed to be hidden, but instead he was face to face with an empty spot.

“Looking for something, Beefcake?”

He stilled, body tensing before slowly turning around to find you leaning against the door frame, his extra bag around your shoulder, arms crossed as you looked at him like he had just got caught looking through his Ma’s wallet.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, though he knew it was a stupid question.

Your eyes went to the ground and you stood straight. “Welp, I had been looking around for a brooding, ridiculously attractive man who I felt needed a hug or something. When I checked in here a few hours ago to try and find him, I noticed a few weapons were missing…” Your brows rose as you gave him a knowing look. “That’s when I found the bag. Wasn’t too hard to put two and two together.”

Bucky’s head hung low. “I wanted to tell you,” he mumbled. “I just-”

“We can talk about it on the road,” you said casually, and his head shot back up to look at you, eyes wide. You leaned down to grab something behind the wall, holding it up for him to see.

It was the blaster Bruce and Peter had been working on.

Realization sank in and Bucky began shaking his head fervently. “No. Absolutely not. You’re staying here.”

Your lips twisted to one side. “Sorry, Beefcake, but no can do. I gotta make sure your ass makes it out alive.”

He walked over to you, jaw clenching. “You know it’s too dangerous for you to go back there.” It made him sick to think of the things Hydra could do to you if they caught you again. He had half a mind to blow the entire operation up while he was there.

You nodded. “I also know that there’s almost no chance that you’re going to be able to stay here for two more weeks to wait for the rest of the group to prepare.”

Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head in agreement.

“I gotta get him.”

Your hand reached up to rest against his face. “Then let me help you.”

“No.”

“Bucky,” you pleaded, any trace of humor or sarcasm in your tone gone. “Please. If you go there by yourself, Hydra will have you in a cell before you can even get through their first border patrol. I know the place, I’ve escaped it. I can keep you safe and we can finally save Steve. Together.”

There was a tremor in your voice as you said the last sentence and concern rushed through Bucky. He held your face between his hands. “Hey, hey,” he soothed. “What’s up? What am I missing?”

You leaned your head into his hand, eyes closing for a moment as you gathered your thoughts.

With a sigh, you opened your eyes to meet Bucky’s.

“Steve…Steve was the one who helped me escape.”

He furrowed his brows in confusion.

You continued. “That day, there was an uprising in the prison. Someone had managed to unlock all of the doors to let people escape. It was chaos. I was still strapped to one of the chairs for testing when the guards ran out to investigate, but they had left their….tools close enough for me to grab. I cut myself free and ran.”

Bucky continued staring at you, his body growing tense at the idea of you being tied down for them to do their bidding.

“I was running down one of the hallways when two of the guards managed to grab hold of me. I started screaming for help, trying my best to fight back. Suddenly, I was free, and I looked down to find them both on the ground. When I turned around, there he was. Rogers - as I knew him then - his face covered in dirt, fists clenched. He asked if my name was Y/n and when I said yes he just grabbed my hand and led me down various hallways until we were in the basement.”

His chest swelled. Only Steve could have managed to save the woman who now owned Bucky’s heart without even realizing.

“Eventually, we were at a large tunnel, one that Steve said would get me outside. I tried asking him questions, but he cut me off, saying I needed to go.” Your voice began to tremble as you continued. “He…he must have known about my blood and knew I needed to get as far away from Hydra as possible. He saved my life that day, and I just left him behind-”

“Hey,” Bucky leaned forward to wrap you in a tight embrace, cradling your head against his chest. “Steve knew what he was doing. He needed to get you out and keep you safe.”

“But that means that your best friend is still there being tortured. He deserves to be here, not me.”

Bucky felt his heart break in slow motion as he pulled back to meet your eyes, his own stinging with tears.

“Listen to me, Sweetheart. Never feel like you don’t deserve to be here. As much as I fucking miss Steve and wish that he was safe, if he hadn’t gotten you out then I wouldn’t have you in my life. And now we have a chance to save him..”

You blinked a few times, the right corner of your lips quirking up ever so slightly.

“So you agree, then? We should both go save him?”

Shock crossed over his face, followed quickly by the scowl that was uniquely yours.

You never ceased to amaze him.

Before he had a chance to argue, you continued on. “I swear to you that if there is even a chance that I’m in danger of….being taken again,” you closed your eyes for a moment before looking back at the storm of blue in Bucky’s eyes, “I’ll get the hell out of there. But just know that I’m dragging you out with me. And then you have to swear to me that if this doesn’t work that we will regroup with the rest of camp and follow the larger plan.”

Bucky stared at you, rushing through a million scenarios in his head of what could go wrong.

Or what could go right.

No matter the scenario, though, he realized he couldn’t imagine one without you by his side.

So, with one last exacerbated sigh, Bucky nodded.

Before you had a chance to give him a smug grin that was so uniquely his, he pulled you close and crashed his lips to yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. He tried to pour every ounce of comfort, need - and something else he wasn’t quite yet ready to admit to you out loud - into it. Everything he wanted to say in this brief moment, he said in this kiss.

Your eyes were still closed when he pulled his head back, mouth open slightly.

When you finally opened your eyes and closed your mouth, your expression shifted into that smug grin he had memorized long ago.

“Alright, Beefcake. Let’s go save Steve.”

Chapter 12

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #zombie au #zombie apocalypse au #awake my soul #ams

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kaylinalexanderbooks · 9 hours

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OC interview

Thanks @mysticstarlightduck here!

Rules: answer the questions in the POV of an OC!

This time, I'm feeling Liam!

Are you named after anyone?

“Yes, I am. I made sure of it. Liam is an extremely common name, see, I've met a million of them. Liam could be referring to any number of Liams, and you would never know which one. Besides, now in certain situations I must be called Beaumont, which I just think sounds cool.”

When was the last time you cried?

“Pfft. I don't cry often. Sure, there's, like, a psychological reason for why doing it is healthy, but I just find myself in situations that don't call for it. When you need a good pathos, sure, being able to cry on the spot is an extremely good skill that I have. Crying isn't something I usually do when I'm upset. I try to stay focused on the facts to craft my argument. So the last time I cried was for my AV club. We were filming a commercial. It had puppies.”

Do you have kids?

“Oh, absolutely not. There are a million reasons, seemingly, why. First: I'm barely eighteen. Second: I'm not quite sure I want any of my own to begin with. Many different personal reasons I would much rather not get into right now. Third: not only the last two, but I'm going off to college next fall. Do you think I'm gonna have time to raise a kid? Nah. If it's to be, I'm going to wait until after graduation. Then I'll reassess where I am in life.”

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

“It depends on who I am talking to. I love sarcasm. Use it when I can. However, I've found that being blunt works better for others. Saying what you mean has a more effective, direct approach that clears up any potential misunderstanding. On the other hand, sarcasm is an effective tool to use as humor or to throw an opponent or challenger off-guard. It can be a gotcha moment. It can piss people off, ruffle some feathers, if you will. You understand my point, I assume. Sarcasm is a tool that must only be used when appropriate and should never go to waste.”

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

“... I notice everything about them. Their posture, where their eyes are, hands are, everything I can, I analyze. Why? It makes talking to them a lot easier. I bet Wade said 'general vibe', and I'd have to say that is a correct assessment of what there is to notice first. I need to know how to talk to people. How to approach this conversation.”

What’s your eye colour?

“Green. Objectively the best choice for myself. I have a very...eh, Sam would call it a 'naturalistic aesthetic.' What she means is that my color palette consists of colors associated with nature. Brown hair and green eyes help that, I presume. It fits with my 'vibe' so to speak. I would love to argue that assigning aesthetics is a little ridiculous, I do enjoy general color theory.”

Scary movies or happy endings?

“Who the hell decided these were opposites? Aliens is horror and it has a technically happy ending with four characters alive and well. I'm ignoring the next movie. This is absolutely ridiculous. I'm sorry, as a film student--or someone on track to be--this is stupid. Who wrote this question? Tragic endings or happy endings. Scary movies or feel-good movies. Technically, one could be both. Die Hard, for example, is pretty intense but gives the 'warm fuzzies' at the end. Nothing is binary except computer code. This is ridiculous. I consider myself to be a highly opinionated person, but I'm not sure I could debate either side of this. My opinion is this question is stupid, and I uncharacteristically refuse to answer.”

Any special talents?

“I can edit. Very well. Would like to edit YouTubers' vids. Generally good at cinematography and vision. Apparently I can also turn anything into an argument. Speaking of which, what defines a special talent? What makes you special? Everyone is 'special in different ways' but what is special? Some may consider my argumentative streak to be a special talent, but some may just think it's an annoying personality trait or psychological issue that I need to seek help to treat. Or is it actually healthy? I argue it's both. And what is a talent? Something we are natural at, or something that we became good at? A mix of both?”

Where were you born?

“Bit invasive. Earth. Narrowed it down to Alium or Ceteri. Which Earth? You decide.”

Do you have any pets?

“I have a cat named Beans and a dog named Macie.”

What sort of sports do you play?

“Unless arguing or debate is a sport, I do not play any. I say debate counts. It requires a good offense and a good defense. Strategy. Approach, follow through, anticipating movements. You get it.”

How tall are you?

“About 170 centimeters or 5'7. Some call me short but on Alium I'm neither short nor tall. Next to Sam I feel tiny but then I'm next to someone like Tyler and I feel much better about myself.”

What was your favourite subject in school?

“Uh, debate. I would debate you on that, but I think you get the point. Other than that, film classes and computer science are the best classes I have ever taken.”

What is your dream job?

“I want to be a filmmaker so bad. I want to direct and boss people around. I want to be a cinematographer or an editor. I want someone to use my movie as a good, ideal example in film school. I want to write my own script. See my film premiere on the red carpet. Cast all-stars, nepo babies, and fresh blood. I want it all. Call me ambitious, but I could rock this industry.”

Other Liam: questionnaire

Other interviews: Wade, Jazlyn, Gwen, Lexi, Carla, Carmen, Maddie

Tagging @somethingclevermahogony @badluck990 @theprissythumbelina @talesofsorrowandofruin @loopyhoopywrites

Blanks below the cut!

Are you named after anyone? When was the last time you cried? Do you have kids? Do you use sarcasm a lot? What’s the first thing you notice about people? What’s your eye colour? Scary movies or happy endings? Any special talents? Where were you born? Do you have any pets? What sort of sports do you play? How tall are you? What was your favourite subject in school? What is your dream job?

#the secret portal #teaspoon #tsp #oc interview #my oc #writing tag game #oc tag game #liam beaumont #writers on tumblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #writing on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr community

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withlovewriting · 2 years

Text

You’re On Your Own, Kid

Summary: You and Steve were best friends, until one hot Indiana summer, that didn’t seem enough.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader.

Words: 3,556

Warnings: Angst. A kind of happy ending but not in the way you’ll want. Very brief implied mentions of sexual situations. Not so much Toxic!Steve, but he’s defo on that King!Steve shit. I am absolutely ignoring the entire story line of Strangers things, as am I ignoring the timeline of college applications etc. The story just fits better this way so i am uprooting everything anyone knows about american university. My bad. No use of y/n.

I also have really bad writers block, so I’m hoping this will help me pull through it.

Masterlist

Summer went away, Still the yearning stays, I play it cool with the best of them, I wait patiently, He's gonna notice me, It's okay, we're the best of friends

This years heatwave felt like no other. Indiana Summers were always hot, but this year it felt unbearable. Wiping the back of your hand across your forehead, trying in vain to stop the beads of sweat from dripping down your face you knocked loudly on the double, red doors.

"Alright, alright. Keep your hair on."

As soon as the door opened, you pushed yourself past your friend, making a beeline for the kitchen, grabbing a large glass of water and gulping at it.

"You were only out there for a couple of minutes." He smirked, watching you from the door frame that he leaned against.

Rolling your eyes, you placed the now empty glass into the sink and sent him a sarcastic grin, "So glad to know you can count, Harrington. Are the others here?"

Before he could reply, you heard Carol's loud screech, causing your head to jolt around and peer out of the window just in time to see Tommy throw Carol into the Harrington's pool.

Making your way outside, you placed your tote by a deckchair that hadn't already been claimed, laying out your towel and pulling off your loose fitted t-shirt and shuffling out of your shorts.

A loud wolf whistle came from Tommy, resulting in you sending him a finger as Carol's swift elbow to his ribs shut him up.

Relaxing back onto the deckchair, you could finally enjoy the sun's burning rays.

"Got you a beer."

A eye opened, watching as your best friend placed the opened can down by your deckchair, another in his own grip as he sat on the chair next to yours, "You know it's really not safe to lay out in the sun like that. Bet you haven't even got lotion on."

Sending a glare, your retort was quickly cut off when he pulled his own shirt over his head, revealing his lean torso, the tuft of hair on his chest thicker than you'd imagined.

Considering you'd known the boy since you were both in diapers, you could attest: Puberty had hit Steve Harrington hard.

His time as captain of the swim team and his previous summer of being a life-guard down at the community pool had done wonders, helping him grow into his gangling limbs. His position on the basketball team didn't hurt, either.

"You good?" His voice pulled you out of your own head, for once thankful of the absurd Indiana heat as you watched a single bead of sweat trail down his stomach, disappearing when it hit the band on his swim trunks.

Shaking your head a little, you sent him a tight-lipped smile before taking your beer, downing a few large mouthfuls to try and cool yourself down, "Totally. Just, hot, you know?"

"You know, I've heard a really, really good way to cool down in the hot weather."

His devilish smirk sent chills down your spine as he stood, moving closer to you. Your own playful smile tugged at your lips, knowing damn well what he was planning, "Don't even think about it, Harrington. I will kill you-"

His large hands heaved you into his arms bridal style as he made a sudden run for the pool, leaving you to tighten your grip around his neck, your own screeching that resembled Carol's from earlier falling from your mouth as your friends hollered and cheered Steve on as he leapt into the pool.

When you emerged, his arm now around your waist, you shoved at his chest a few times, spluttering as the chlorine filled water dripped from your nose, "Harrington!"

One of his hands left your side, helping to wipe the water from your face and out of your eyes before pushing his own hair back from his forehead. Between the humid weather and the pool activities, he had no point of styling it today anyway.

As he held you in his arms, you realized for the first time, you were crushing hard on your best friend.

I hear it in your voice, You're smoking with your boys, I touch my phone as if it's your face, I didn't choose this town, I dream of getting out, There's just one who could make me stay, All my days.

As the hot temperatures fell with the browned leaves of the trees, something had changed between yourself and Steve.

Twisting the phone cord, you could barely keep the gentle upturn of your lips as bay, "You really didn't have to call tonight, Steve. I know you're busy, really. I don't mind."

"I just missed your voice," he sighed softly down the phone, his altered state of mind made his lips a little loose.

"Are you high right now, Harrington?"

"Only a little," he sighed.

A few moments of silence passed between you both, his deep sighs showing that he was close to falling asleep. Deciding that maybe his his good mood might soften the blow of your news, you swallowed hard before softly saying his name,

"I, uh… I got an acceptance letter this morning."

"Awesome, Indianapolis?" You could almost see the grin that would stretch at his face, eyes full of pride, all to be shattered in your next sentence.

"UCLA," you whispered, almost hoping he didn't hear you, but your news seemed to sober him up.

After a few seconds of shuffling, you heard him much clearer, "Wait, what? I know you mentioned it but… I didn't think you were serious."

"Well, I didn't think I had a shot. But the letter came this morning and so long as I get my predicted grades, I'm in."

"Are you gonna accept?"

You remained silent for a moment, swallowing the lump that had crawled its way up your throat, "Would you be mad if I did?"

A small scoff fell from the boy's chest, but his words remained steady, "Mad? No way. Sad, though? I mean… You're my best friend. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Please, Harrington. We all know you'd do just fine without me."

"You know what? Give me 10 minutes, I'm coming over."

"Steve, you've been smoking and-"

"I'm fine, trust me. I didn't smoke that much, I can still drive."

True to his word, just under 15 minutes later, Steve Harrington came barreling through your open window as he sneaker caught on the frame.

"Holy shit, be quiet, my parents are asleep."

"I just, I needed to see you. You can't just drop a bomb like that over the phone."

You took a seat at the end of your bed, fiddling with your hands as they sat in your lap, "I applied to a few places. I'm still waiting for the letters back… California isn't set in stone."

Steve was pacing in front of you, hands threading through his hair as he tried to get his thoughts in order, "I know, I just… I thought the plan was to stay close to home. Close to me."

Grabbing the sleeve of his sweater as he passed you, you gently dragged him toward you. Taking a seat next to you, he finally seemed to settle a little.

"You know that me leaving Hawkins doesn't equate to me leaving you, right? You're always gonna be my best friend. No amount of miles will change that."

Steve placed his hand over yours, still cold from the autumn air, "That's not true, and you know it. You'll go off to sunny California, and some hot guy from your class will teach you how to surf, and you'll join a sorority and… Once you're gone, you'll never look back. I'll just be some guy from your hometown who's name you don't remember."

"Steve," you whispered softly, as if he were some cornered animal ready to bolt at any moment, "you know that's not true. I could never forget you."

The boy watched you for a moment in the low-light of your room, his eyes growing softer with each moment that passed. You knew that Steve – no matter how much he'd reject your opinion – had abandonment issues that stemmed from his childhood.

His father, a chronic cheater, would constantly be off on business trips, his shoes barely hitting the welcome mat before he was packing another weekend bag.

His wife, eventually found out about one of his out-of-town trysts, and Steve thought that would be the end of it. He expected a blow out fight, his mother to send her father packing, but it just never happened. Instead, his mother – despite being a respect woman of affluence around town – feigned ignorance and continued her role as housewife with only one exception. She now joined his father on every business trip.

Whilst it did mean his father couldn't continue his rendezvous as easily, it had a domino effect on the way he treated his son.

From a childhood of broken promises of camping and fishing weekends, to a back hand whenever Steve might dare toe the line of respect, Mr Harrington always seemed displeased. With his life, his wife, his son… You couldn't tell.

And still, his mother just sat by, putting the blame on her child, telling him not to provoke his father.

If Steve was honest, he thinks he preferred it when they weren't in town. At least that way he could be left to his own devices without someone scoffing at him over a newspaper during breakfast.

"Steve," you cupped his face, his downcast eyes glancing over your own, "I'd never leave you behind."

Before you could take another breath, the boys lips were pressed against your own, hard and demanding as though he was scared you'd vanish into thin air.

You'd be waiting for something like this, ever since the summer. Your friendship had changed along with the seasons, and you felt there was no going back now. You'd both crossed a line that couldn't be redrawn.

And as Steve's body pressed you down onto your mattress, his lips caressing your neck, small, soothing pecks after sharp nips, you realized that maybe you didn't have to leave. Maybe you had everything you'd ever need, right here in Hawkins.

Pulling his face into your hands and making him look at you, you whispered, "Ask me to stay. Ask me to stay, and I will."

His lips crashed back into yours, the passion exploding like fireworks on the fourth of July, the intensity of your words acting as an igniter.

And although he never muttered those words, you knew after that night, leaving just wouldn't be an option anymore.

From Sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes, I waited ages to see you there, I search the party of better bodies, Just to learn that you never cared

The Christmas lights hung around the Harrington household were Mrs. Harrington's parting gift before she left for a Christmas cruise with her husband, not planning on being back until after New Years.

You watched as they twinkled, the soft glow of reds, greens, yellows and blues illuminating the living room in a warm haze, just like the alcohol that swam through your veins did.

Neither of you had brought up the evening you'd spent together a few months ago, but it seemed you had settled into a softer relationship. You would hang out after school as usual, trying to force him to at least attempt his homework before giving up and munching on popcorn as you lazed around watching whatever film he'd picked up from Family Video that evening.

The conversation of your future didn't always come up, but even the slightest mention of California seemed to send Steve into a frenzy, barely giving you time to pull off your underwear before he was gently easing into you.

Soft words and even softer touches would remain for hours after, he'd keep you tight in his arms, but never allow himself to fall asleep. By the time you'd awaken the next morning, his side of the bed would be cold.

But your father knew of Steve's reputation around town as a ladies man – as did most of the parents in Hawkins – so you couldn't blame him for making a quick exit.

Taking another sip from the red solo cup you'd been refilling almost as quickly as you'd been draining it, you peered around the party, hoping to spot the host.

Steve was always busy at his own parties. Between the swim team and the basketball team, he remained on a tight loop of schmoozing, just like his mother had taught him. You'd lost sight of him about an hour ago, and as the minutes ticked down before you'd have to leave for curfew, you decided your best option was to just go find him and tell him the good news.

The acceptance letter from Indianapolis burned in your back pocket, and although you wanted to keep the secret until Christmas day, you knew the words would fall out of your mouth the moment you saw him.

You were going to accept Indianapolis. You were going to turn down UCLA. You were going to stay here, with him.

You'd no longer have to send small, knowing glances followed by fleeting smiles across the lunch table, and once you'd moved, he could come with you. You weren't overly optimistic about sharing an apartment with three other girls, anyway.

He'd no longer have to sneak out before he'd be noticed, and you could continue your nightly activities long into the morning if you so wished. You could finally be together, away from the gossip and reputations of the town.

Placing your cup on the small end table, you began to push your way through the room, the crowds of bodies dispersing just enough for you to squeeze by as they continued dancing the night away.

Tommy and Carol were off in the corner sucking face, and you'd seen a few of the basketball team grinding against the cheerleaders in the living room, and decided to head out toward the pool, where Steve would most likely be upside down, cementing his crown as Hawkins High's very own Keg King. A title you couldn't help roll you eyes at.

Sure, he had set a pretty impressive record, but Steve Harrington was not a boy who could handle his drink, which granted, most teenagers couldn't, either.

Thankfully, nobody was stupid enough to go for a winter's night swim, despite the heated pool, but it did mean that there were a lot more people hovering around outside, blocking your view.

"Hey, you seen Harrington anywhere?" you asked one of the cheerleaders from your Math class. She simply shrugged before returning to the drinking game she was playing.

With only two options left, and 10 minutes on the clock before you definitely had to leave, you decided to head up to Steve's bedroom, where he was most likely already face-down on his mattress, snoring the night away.

Few people hovered on the large staircase, chatting over the music as you pushed by. Taking a left at the long hallway, you knocked softly on the door, as if that would prepare you for what you were about to witness.

Steve was, in fact, face-down on his bed. Unfortunately, however, another body happened to be under him.

Sure, they were seemingly both clothed, the only item of clothing that had been removed was his yellow sweater that was crumpled up in a pile at the end of the bed, but the site still caused your heart to plummet.

"God, can't a man have some privacy in his own- oh. Shit, sorry."

Steve looked between you and the flushed girl, as if he genuinely didn't know what to do. A deer caught in headlights, or a fly caught in the spider's web.

The girl grumbled your name, an annoyed scoff falling from her plump lips, "God, get out!"

Despite all of the oxygen leaving your lungs, you quickly hurried back down the hallway, taking the steps two at a time.

You could hear Steve's calls from behind you as he tripped over his own feet, trying to tug on his sweater and ignore the staring eyes of the students he passed by. He didn't managed to catch up with you until you were half-way down the drive.

Panting, Steve grabbed your arm, forcing you to turn toward him. Letting your palm fly, you struck him against the cheek, guilt still somehow crawling up your spine when the red mark bloomed on his skin almost imminently.

You both remained silent for a moment, your chest heaving as you tried fruitlessly to catch your breath. Taking advantage of his few seconds of shock, you turned once more, marching away from the boy, the acceptance letter burning a hole in your back pocket.

You're on your own, kid, Yeah, you can face this

Packing up the last of your bags, you released a deep sigh before heaving them down the stairs of your family home. Sure, it wasn't necessarily a permanent move, but something about leaving felt so… final.

Of course, you would be back during the holidays whenever you could, but you weren't made of money, and it was a long car ride for just for a few days of home comforts.

Your father placed your last suitcase into the trunk, slamming it shut before wiggling the handle. The last thing you needed was to lose most of your packed clothes on the I-70.

You felt like you had been preparing for this day longer than you realized. A bittersweet feeling, dipping your toes into adulthood, even if you did still have the security of falling back on your parents if you needed to. But after everything that had happened, everything you had lost, you refused to allow college to be one of them. Especially when you'd already almost lost it once.

The screeching of tires caused you all to halt your actions, a loud huff from your father when Steve Harrington almost fell from his maroon BMW, tripping over his white sneakers to get to you.

His hair was a mess -- something that was unbelievably unlike Steve -- and his eyes were shining with what could only be guilt.

He had tried to speak to you after his Christmas party, but you'd managed to escape any interaction with him so far. You hadn't outright told your parents what had gone on between the two of you -- you weren't looking to get the boy killed, and yourself grounded for life -- but it was evident something had transpired between you both, causing the rift.

"Can I speak with you?" his eyes darted toward the direction of your parents, suddenly seeming a little meeker "Alone?"

Despite the delay his sudden arrival would have on your travel time, you agreed, waiting until your family made their way back inside.

"What do you want, Harrington?"

"I just... I needed to come see you, before you left. Carol told me about UCLA and I... It just didn't feel right to let you go without seeing you first."

Rolling your eyes, you opened the driver's side, throwing your back onto the passenger seat, "Well, don't worry, Steve. Now your conscience is cleared. Have a nice life."

His hand caught the car door before you could settle yourself into the seat, blocking you from entering the car, "Please, I didn't mean that. I just... You told me, that night. You told me that if I asked you to stay, that you would."

It felt like such a long time ago, yet his weak and wobbly voice still tugged at your heartstrings. you knew what he was getting at before he'd even began to say it. Steve Harrington knew that with one word, he could change the whole trajectory of your life.

"Stay, please. Stay here with me."

And if this had been Summer, or Fall you. Then you would've. In a heartbeat, without hesitation. It was hard to think about what your life could be. A small, one bedroom flat with Steve, the new friends you'd make at the University of Indianapolis would fawn over your love story. Boy meets girl. Girl falls in love with boy on hot summer. Boy asks girl to stay. And she does.

Except this time, she didn't.

Steve watched from his car as your own vehicle pulled off the drive, bags all packed, goodbyes said, and promise of calling as soon as you arrived at your first stop in your cross-country road trip.

You took a moment as you passed him, sending him a small wave, the ghost of a peaceful smile tugging at your lips when his downcast eyes met yours, hand raising to return to wave regardless.

Winding down the window as you made your way throughout the small town of Hawkins, passing by the 'Thank you for visiting Hawkins, Indiana. Drive safe' you released a deep breath that you were certain you'd been holding in all of your life.

Hawkins wasn't the end of your story, and Steve Harrington wasn't the be-all and end-all.

California was only the beginning.

You're on your own, kid, You always have been

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic

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macabretcles · 23 days

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🔥

Unpopular Thoughts - Accepting

Personally, your safety, comfort and experience on Tumblr is your own responsibility. It is no one elses responsibility to keep you safe or prevent you from seeing content you dont want to see. Blacklist tags for posts you need tagged and block blogs that you need to.

You can ask people to tag things for you if needed. However, people do not need to if they don't want to and you can't force them to tag things either. Harassing them isn't the way to go. If things aren't tagged like you need them to, then the best bet is to blacklist and block.

I personally try to tag things when possible and am okay with being asked to tag things if needed. This is mainly for ships however as I don't tag ships unless asked as I do aim to tag most common things that people might have a fear of or get a little unnerved by. I also tag things for easy blacklisting as I know some fandoms I'm in, not everyone wants to see them and just so everything related to a fandom is under one tag and can be looked through easily if needed.

I find now that people feel entitled and that you're required to tag things. Technically you don't. It's just considered good rp etiquette to tag things for others. Like I ask for ns/fw things to be tagged when related to sex as I'm not always up seeing things like that on my dash. But I don't make or ask people to tag it if it's a slip up. If it's constant I will ask. But if they say no, I'm not gonna vent on main or throw a hissy fit. I'll just softblock for my own comfort instead if their posts make me uncomfortable. It's that easy.

In general, I do think that people really need to learn to use the tagging system and block feature more so that they can make their tumblr experience safe and comfortable for themselves. And if they don't? Then they can't really complain about the content people post if they refuse to do anything themselves to give themselves the experience they want on here.

#electricea #【☆】 ooc ramblings / asks.#// thanks for the ask!!!#// sorry it's a lil long

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happyinjection · 1 year

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Idk what to say about episode 9… it’s a great ep alright, but at this point I can’t guess what’s gonna happen next anymore 😅

Several Klondikes members show up, Ban also makes an unexpected appearance, and Theo doesn’t seem to be too concerned with the attacks? To the higher-ups, it seems that the whole card affair is merely a game. Which fits the show’s theme!

Finn’s and Chris’ heart to heart scene is touching… Chris leaving a Fudgee bar for Finn is a very cute detail.

However my attention during this ep is forcibly shifted to Chris himself (what else is new) because holy. This guy’s behavior spells sus from start to finish (from the very beginning of the show, really). Either the writers just throw whatever personality seems convenient for him at the moment or they’re actually going somewhere with all the clues dropped 😅

Why are you acting so strangely whenever a 5 card appears, hmmm Chris? And notice how he doesn’t play his own card even once this ep, does it have a significance or was it just written that way? (immortality is too OP for any sort of plot to work around lmao) Clearly he has his own agenda (I want to shake Chris and make him spill his secrets).

Betting my coins the package he sends at the station is for Chelsea, but idk if it’s going to matter in the future.

That aside, I’ve got to admit Chris is serving EXTRA looks this ep lmao. His visuals and that voice is a dangerous combination. I am looking respectfully the entire time. Bless… can someone please gif them…

Next week seems like it’s gonna be a packed ep too, I look forward to it. At this rate, isn’t it basically as good as confirmed that a 2nd cour/season is underway? (more copium)

#high card #spoilers

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meaningofaeons · 1 year

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hello, its oi anon!

somehow i feel like there's going to be a twist with the emperor that's 'limited in public appearances'... i bet all of my stellar jades that he'll be some puppet ruler for the destiny faith faction.

how often do you read non-oi manhwas? shadowless night and blinded by the setting sun (i know i recommended this before but i love it it's so good the ml and fl makes me feel things and the actual character development and worldbuilding makes me go hrrgrgggggh) have to be some of my favourites outside of traditional reincarnation oi. fl of shadowless night reminds me of stelle in the 'deadly trash panda' way, her head may be empty but her hands sure are filled with knives (and food). ml also got that jing yuan vibes

FU XUAN BRONYA AND SEELE YOU WROTE THEM SO PERFECTLY THEIR ROLES ARE PERFECT IT MATCHES SO WELL!! i am so so excited for this series if you can't tell already sdafghm,lkjbsdflnjk

luocha honestly gives off saint/cardinal/priest vibes. that clothing and his coffin, fits right in tbh. caelus ig could be at the xianzhou empire, who also lost his memories and is looking for his sister, lumine/aether style? he could be friends with sushang and helps out the cloud-knights quite a bit whilst also just wandering around doing odd jobs here and there. kinda unsure he's hard to place\

anyways!! take care!! eat and rest and sleep well, majesty is coming along great!!

hi again oi anon !! (≗ᆽ≗)ﾉ

hehe I am super excited to write more on the emperor since he's the only original character really in the series thus far, and most of the others will probably just be side characters like servants or minor nobles... （๑´ﻌ｀๑）

I will read blinded by the setting sun asap!! I have seen it around before and it's so pretty I love it I don't read a whole lot of non-oi/reincarnation manhwa mainly bc they're either usually hard to find or translated in such a way that is difficult to understand hdjsjhfnjd ;w; but I have read some! I rather enjoy the more typical medieval-style world ones with magic and stuff, and the lead finding their way on their own merit, like the remarried empress. navier obv isn't reincarnated or isekai'd, she's just a badass!!

THANK YOU BY THE WAY!!! I had some trouble finding places for the xianzhou charas but I thought that role did fu xuan justice! I was going to add yukong as well but unfortunately I don't know much abt her yet :< as for bronseele, yas teehee I am very excited to write them together. they won't be a huge part of the story but I wanted them to have roles that fit! （＾・ﻌ・＾✿）

your ideas are awesome for luocha!! I love the saint/cardinal idea, I counter with this: he's from the Destiny religion in Stellaron, but he went to the Xianzhou Empire to "spread the word" (but really, he's there for his own means, perhaps something to do w/ that coffin in canon if more info about him comes out soon). this is because in the quests he's in, luocha mentions that "luocha" is just the name he goes by on the xianzhou, not his actual name! I did want to throw in sushang as well tho so I'll see what happens!! (=♡ ᆺ ♡=)

thank you for the care & support!!! I'm glad you're enjoying how it's coming along thus far!!!! (=◕ᆽ◕ฺ=)

EDITED I FORGOT ABT CAELUS !!! I was gonna mention him LOL I don't have a planned role for him but I like your idea oi anon!!! will keep it in mind :3

#katze contemplates!#oi anon #anon #majesty #majesty: hsr #m.asks #I WILL ALSO TRY SHADOWLESS NIGHT #it looks rlly good

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emberphantom · 2 years

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Seeing all the Ryan Reynolds stuff is really scaring me that Rob is just going to start having famous recognizable faces on the show and distract us from what we actually care about. RR only really plays one character afaik? (I mean, good for him, whatever, but it's going to feel like Celebrity Cameo and iasip is very good about avoiding that?) Am I the only one with this anxiety? I know RCG clearly protect sunny like hell, but all the positivity online about this might sway them and I scared...

Oh I feel you. Personally for me, I think a lot of my worry comes from them wasting the storyline and potential of giving Mac a boyfriend on the show. Obviously we all have this lofty (and CORRECT) expectation that Mac getting a BF is gonna result in Jealous Dennis (bc where else would that go like BE SERIOUS). But I'm afraid that it's gonna end up being this one-off throw away cameo that is just like "See we did the thing now shut up!" Idk--I haven't been personally keeping up with the podcast but hearing that they're "Out of ideas for s16" makes me uh, Concerned. Maybe they're just bluffing or being self deprecating. I hope. Otherwise. Yikes. I also think the hype is less around Ryan himself and more of the collective Sunny Hivemind losing their absolute shit bc since Rob became close with Ryan we were like So make him guest star as your BF on Sunny, you won't. And then Rob was like BET. And we're now all like oh shit this is happening. TBH I think Ryan will be fine but it's how they're gonna write the rest of them that could skew this from good to cringe. I also don't think it's gonna be a long term or even multi-episode commitment. Bc Ryan Reynolds is Ryan Reynolds and he's got shit to do. Also Ryan is just super fucking mainstream which is why it seems like EVERYONE is talking about it and it's being covered everywhere. Sunny will fade back into its comfortable oblivion soon enough.

TBH I don't think you have to worry about a flood of special guest stars coming in and turning Sunny into something it's not. First of all, Rob's only famous friend is Ryan Reynolds lmao (all shade Rob no one likes you). If anything, Charlie and Danny are the ones who could've gotten the pull from some big celeb cameos over the years and if they haven't done that already, I don't think RR is going to be the thing that makes the levee break, yknow?

I always want to give RCG the benefit of the doubt, s15 kinda restored my faith in them...a little. Cautiously. And it seems like them watching old episodes and remembering what they liked about the show has given them some inspiration to bring Sunny back to what is was. Honestly? I'm not getting my hopes up either way. I don't think this is gonna change a lot, if anything. But it might not live up to the hype of Mac having a BF in our heads. And I don't see a world where big celebs come on to Sunny for the sake of doing RCG a favor. Rob seems to save that for Mythic Quest tbh. Which I feel like it's more fitting on.

But i GET you. Always expect the worst from Sunny/RCG and you'll never be disappointed. Sometimes you might even be pleasantly surprised.

#allison answers shit #sunny asks #iasip #sunny #rcg #A SUNNY ASK IN MY INBOX IN 2022!?!?! please let's keep this up yes

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vroom63 · 2 years

Text

Prompt list

(I will be adding to this as I see fit)

General prompts:

“Come over here and make me”

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“Wanna bet?”

“Kiss me.”

“You need to wake up because I don’t think I can do this without you”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice”

“Just once.”

“I’m too sober for this”

“You’re seriously like a man-child”

“No. Regrets”

“Sorry isn’t going to help you when I kick your ass”

“STOP INTERRUPTING ME”

“I hope I’m never stuck with you on a desert island”

“Is there a reason you are naked in my bed?”

“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this”

“HEY! I was gonna eat that”

“Are you blushing?” “Shut the fuck up”

“Just for that, you owe me a kiss”

“I don’t know whether to kiss you or yell at you”

“I can’t take you anywhere”

“Have you seen my hoodie?”

“STOP STEALING MY CLOTHES”

“You keep that photo of us in your wallet?”

“You’re comfy”

“You make me feel safe”

“You were put on this earth to give me a headache”

“You are a terrible influence”

“How have you survived so long by yourself?”

“What did you do this time?”

“Say you want me and I am yours”

“I really want to kiss you right now”

“You need to leave”

“That was weirdly attractive”

“You drive me crazy”

“Stay the night, please?”

“Are you actively trying to piss me off, or is that just a byproduct of your stupidity?”

“Are you flirting with me right now?”

“We have matching outfits!”

“You make me stupid”

“I need a vacation. And a shot”

“As nice as your name is, it’d sound better with my last name”

“But I want cuddles!”

“I am done with your bullshit”

“You’re so dramatic. It’s just a tiny spider”

“Oh I’m sorry, is me being half naked distract you?” “piss off”

“You read?” “No shit captain obvious.”

“Revolutionary suggestion for you: shut the fuck up”

“You’re the only one who gets to call me that you know”

“Don’t freak out, but I am in the emergency room”

“What are you doing on the floor?” “Having a mental breakdown”

“Don’t lie to me and tell me that you are fine when you’re clearly not”

“That is the opposite of what I asked you to do”

“You better have a very good reason for waking me up at the ass-crack of dawn”

“Do not give me that look”

“I don’t think that’s how it works”

“Why are you unbuttoning your pants?”

“Are you seriously throwing forks at me?”

“Excuse me?”

Smut prompts:

“If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“I love hearing you moan”

“Uh, am I interrupting?”

“Do you want help with that?”

“Mind if I join in?”

“Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

“Shut up and take your pants off”

“Tell me what you want”

“Were you just masturbating?” “Uh.. no I was just-” “Want some help?”

“Either I’m going insane, or you were just masturbating in our living room”

“I don’t care what you do, just fuck me”

“Touch me and you lose”

“Fuck. That feels so good”

“Don’t give me that look”

“The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh”

“Use my thigh. You’ve been staring at it all night anyway”

“Stop dancing like that or I’m going to cum right here”

“We passed “just friends” about 20 fucks ago”

“It’s not my fault you keep turning me on”

“I’m hard/wet” “That sounds like a personal problem”

“You drive me crazy”

“Make your mark on me. I want everyone to see”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this”

“I’m going to come, like, instantly”

“Friends don’t rub their dicks on each other”

“Bite your fucking lip one more time, and we’ll have serious problem”

“If you think being in public will stop me, you are sorely mistaken sweetheart”

“You could, like, practice on me. If you want”

“We’re crossing a line, doing this.”

“You can fuck my tits I guess”

“How many times have you jerked off thinking of me?

“Stop clenching baby. You are thight enough as it is, fuck”

“You’ve ruined me for anyone else”

“If I stare hard enough at him, maybe I’ll just come”

“I really won’t be able to stop once we start, like, really”

“We’re just friends” “Friends don’t do that kind of shit”

“Are you asking me to fuck you?” “So what if I am?”

“Fuck you.” “Please do”

“I really don’t care if they can hear us”

“Never hold back again, ok?”

“How am I supposed to cover these up?”

“50 bucks says you can’t go a month without getting off”

Songs (vibes or lyrics)

Straight Up - Paula Abdul

Centuries - Fall Out Boy

Maneater - Nelly Furtado

Look What You Made Me Do - Taylor Swift

Fuck Up the Friendship - Leah Kate

All the Good Girls Go to Hell - Billie Eilish

The Hills - The Weeknd

Me Too - Meghan Trainor

You’re Not Harry Styles - Dylan

Boyfriend - Dove Cameron

Friends - Emma Løv, Loote, JORDY

Do You Wanna Taste It - Wig Wham

House Of Memories - Panic! At The Disco

Supermodel - Måneskin

How Do You Love Somebody - Why Don’t We

Middle Finger - ASTON

Lights Up - Harry Styles

What Lovers Do - Maroon 5

Fine By Me - Andy Grammer

Rescue Me - OneRepublic

Teach Me How To Love - Shawn Mendes

Pierre - Ryn Weaver

Everywhere - Niall Horan

The Middle - Zedd

Power Over Me - Dermot Kennedy

Too Good To Be True - Rhys

I Should Go - Levi Kreis

A Drop In The Ocean - Ron Pope

Kiss Me Slowly - Parachute

Painkiller - Ruel

Wildflower - 5SOS

Mutual - Shawn Mendes

Mixtape - Jens

Smash Into You - Hey Violet

What Do I Do - Sjur

Complete Mess - 5SOS

Animal - Neon Trees

Everybody Talks - Neon Trees

Move - The Mamas

Somebody - Dagny

#prompt list

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authornina · 3 years

Text

Baby Momma Drama

***THIS HAS NOT BEEN THROUGH A TYPICAL EDITING PROCESS; ALL SHORTS ARE ROUGH DRAFTS***

“So I can’t take her to see my family?” Dem asked Nicole and she ignored him. He was tired of going back and forth with her about his child. He understood how she felt but she was just trying to control him and the way he parented his daughter.

There wasn’t shit he could do about what happened but apologize and try to be a good father. Nicole was not making that easy for him in the slightest. Then would turn around and use his absence against him when she didn’t get her way. Dem was genuinely remorseful about his actions and she knew that. He always took her feelings into consideration and practiced patience, hoping that she could really forgive him one day. However, anything he wanted to do with Melody she had to be there. Nicole didn’t want her around his family without her either, but they didn’t want Nicole in their presence at all. They only got to see his daughter twice in a whole year.

“Yo, can you fuckin’ hear?”

“Cleary, and just like before I said no. If they want to see her, they can come here, or I’ll gladly go to them.”

“And I told your illiterate ass they don’t fuck witchu. Unless you want A to beat you the fuck up.”

“Please! I’ll drag that bitch if she ever put her fuckin’ hands on me.” Nicole knew Avery couldn’t stand her and the feeling was mutual.

“Bro…” Dem counted to three doing his best not to get mad. This was where he’d been tested the most lately. “So you expect her to just not know her whole other side? She don’t even know her own sisters.”

“Nigga, I don’t care nor is that my problem! My baby is not going anywhere without me. The judge has approved this. I don’t trust you and in the eyes of the law you are not a fit parent. You don’t even have control over any of your own finances! I should actually be arguing with Lake about visitation, not you!” Nicole spat, flippantly. She got all of this information when they went to court. Lake being his guardian only worsened his case and made Nicole’s stronger.

“Really? But when you want dick, I’m trustworthy. When you wanna go out and be a hoe with your dumbass friends, I watch her and muthafuckin KJ too, you can trust me then though?”

Nicole didn’t have a rebuttal to that because not only wasn’t Dem lying but it made her valid points invalid. Dem was a great father and she had him on the tightest leash using the past as a way to control him. She was granted full custody of their daughter and that gave her even more leverage.

“Exactly, now you the fuck quiet with your stupid ass. Come get her ready, I’m taking her.”

“No the fuck you not!” Nicole pushed him back from going further upstairs and he held the banister as to not fall. It didn’t take much after that to set Dem off. He smacked the shit out of Nicole, and she bounced off the wall rolling down the steps.

Stuff like this really felt below Dem. Domestic issues with any woman wasn’t what he had time for or wanted to be involved in. He never reacted on anyone that didn’t do something to him first. It was simple math to Dem, don’t put your hands on him, if you weren’t ready to get knocked the fuck out, or sometimes worse. He handled his problems with finality, but he couldn’t just erase the mother of his child, so this was the bullshit he had to deal with all the time.

All of the commotion could be heard outside. Wreck and Roddy were standing outside smoking. They walked in and shook their heads watching Nicole try to beat Dem up. He wasn’t even really doing anything except flinging her ass around, and she was on the floor screaming all dramatic. This wasn’t the first time they witnessed her do stuff like this but in front of a judge she was miss innocent and perfect. The crazier thing was, nobody ever tried to invalidate her feelings, they just wanted a relationship with Melody, however she wouldn’t allow that unless there was one with her too.

“Chill the fuck out!” Wreck pulled her up from the floor and off of Dem’s leg.

“See! He put his fuckin hands on me, and I’m supposed to let him take my daughter? Get the fuck out my house!”

“Bitch fuck you! You wouldn’t be up in this bitch if it wasn’t for me! Lake was ready to send your ass back to the projects! I don’t have these problems with none of my other baby mommas! You the only one make shit harder than it gotta be!”

“Maybe because you didn’t fuckin’ rape them!”

That word took Dem out of the ring every single time and Nicole knew it. He backed down from her whenever she said it. Dem hated to think of himself like that and it only added to all the other names associated with him. Rapist. It didn’t sit right on his heart and the fact that he couldn’t even remember made it easier to swallow sometimes, but Nicole did not let him forget.

“You a fuckin’ nut, bro,” Roddy said, looking at her with disgust.

Dem said fuck it and walked out of the house. This shit was starting to take a toll on him. He didn’t even get to see Melody and it hurt. He loved seeing her because she didn’t look anything like him, but his father, she had inherited Hassan’s every feature.

While Poppy and Damaris were both on the fairer skin side and looked like him, Melody was the opposite. She actually resembled Loire. Nobody could believe it when they first saw her. Sav always joked that she could pass for Lake’s baby and that set Avery off. She didn’t think that was funny at all. Dem did get a paternity test though and she was indeed his. He could spend hours looking at her beautiful melanin-rich face.

“You ard?” Wreck asked him, getting in the driver’s seat. Roddy hopped in the back and he pulled off.

“I’m tired of her constantly throwing that shit in my face…I don’t even remember.”

“She a fuckin’ nut ass bitch, but I ain’t hear her say that when she was screaming from the dick the other night,” Roddy said.

“You be fuckin’ her?” Wreck asked, as he stopped at a red light and looked over at his brother.

“Sometimes,” Dem shrugged. “When she asks.”

“Nah, turn her ass down next time,” Wreck advised him. “She gon’ keep getting her way cause she think you owe her something. What type of bitch wanna get fucked by a nigga they accusin’ of some shit like that? Fuck that, next time she want some dick, curve her ass. I bet she start actin’ right.”

“Yup, hoes be tryna act like they don’t want sex as much as niggas. They be worse than us. Hold the dick and watch she be like,” Roddy cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for actin’ up Daddy, you can take the baby and this pussy whenever you want.”

“Roddy shut the fuck up,” Wreck laughed. “You on it with us tonight?” he asked Dem.

“Fuck no, you got super nigga back there,” Dem said referring to Roddy who simply shook his head. They had a little beef between them. “I got Damaris this weekend anyway and Haze be getting tired fast now so she can’t handle both of them for too long. I was hoping to get Melody so they can all be together. It’s fucked up they don’t even know their own sister.”

“Lake need to take that bitch back to court and get some custody rights. How the fuck she get to keep a baby away from her damn family?”

“She like Dem that’s why,” Roddy chuckled, lighting up a blunt. “Bitch do not care how her baby got here. She want this nigga and his daughter how she gonna get him.”

“Man, she the last bitch I’ll be with. I’ll marry Mu before I settle for her ass.”

They all started laughing because they knew how much Mumu got on his nerves too. The only reasonable one he had was Haze. She nor Mumu came close to the headache that Nicole was though.

“Talk to Lake, bro,” Wreck advised him. “Tell him you ready to be on your own and handle shit. You can’t keep going through this.”

Dem didn’t respond because he wanted to be independent and not have his brother in charge of his every move, but he wasn’t sure if he was actually ready. ******* “Call Avery and see what she says,” Haze told Dem while standing at the stove cooking. He told her the watered-down version of what happened with Nicole earlier that day. “You already know if she says no then Lake will too. They don’t do shit without each other, but you need to see your child.”

Haze was well aware of the whole situation between Dem and Nicole. She didn’t really have an opinion because it seemed like a he say she say situation. However, if she thought Dem was capable of doing something so vile, she nor Poppy would be around him but Haze didn’t believe he could, even off his meds like Nicole accused. She found out about Dem’s condition and used it as yet another target on his back. Haze only witnessed Dem in action one time and although he was a bit erratic, he didn’t do anything to hurt her or Poppy. She just called Sav and he dealt with him.

“Cause my brother a whipped ass nigga now.”

“No, that’s marriage, Dem. A husband and wife supposed to have each other back.”

“Whatever, A will kill that bitch if they in the same space and it’s not even about Ky. Nicole disrespectful as fuck.”

“Call her,” Haze insisted. Dem blew his breath and started tapping on his phone.

“Hey baby boo!” Avery answered happy for him as always.

“Wassup?”

“Nothing, feeding your mean ass brother and his mean ass kids.”

“Stop actin’ like you don’t love them.”

“I don’t,” Avery whispered making Haze and Dem crack up. “So what you need? You don’t be calling me for no reason.”

“Nut ass Nicole said I can only get Melody if she’s there.”

“Well her bitch ass isn’t welcome in my house!” Avery snapped like Dem knew she would. “Did you forget what the fuck she said to me? What she said about Melody?! But the judge gives her custody?! I tried Dem, I really did try to be cordial with that bitch, but I don’t play about you and I most certainly don’t play about my husband, you know that.”

“A, I miss my daughter. I want y’all to see her. She gettin’ so big and she don’t even know y’all, her sisters, nothing.”

“What you want me to do, Dem?”

“I want y’all to come over her crib this weekend—”

“Dem, I love you, but I am not stepping foot in that bitch house. She better be lucky her ass ain’t on the street! Why can’t we meet her somewhere? What about coming over there—”

“Fuck no!” Haze yelled cutting Avery off before she could finish. “That bitch ain’t coming up in here, A! She be stressing him out to the point it irritate me, and I don’t have time for her smart-ass mouth because pregnant and all I will lay hands on her lying hoe ass!”

Dem wasn’t even a part of the conversation after that. He sat the phone down while Avery and Haze called Nicole everything but a child of God. Dem went to watch TV with his daughters.

“Mommy…” Poppy said, covering her ears hearing Haze talk loudly all the way in her playroom.

“Yea, it’s okay boo boo.” Dem sat on the big pink bean bag chair with Poppy and Damaris on both sides of him and watched DC Superhero Girls.

The way he handled most things that would set him off now, is to just sit with his daughters. They calmed the hell out of him. No medicine or treatment ever brought him that much peace. Nicole was trying to come between that, and he swore she was doing it on purpose, but Dem refused to backtrack and throw away all of his progress, but something had to give.

#on us #authornina #nina

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therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

I've always wondered this, but what do you think the Cullen's political viewpoints would be, given their individual backgrounds? if vampires don't change after they turn, then surely they would all be extremely racist (especially Jasper). would this not come up at some point? they aren't like the Volturi because the Volturi are too old to care, but the Cullens are young enough that they have been brought up with opinions on stuff like sexism, racism, homophobia and the like.

Oh fuck.

You get an early answer because otherwise I'll just chicken out and delete this one, pretend I never saw it.

UMMM.

Since I'm guessing you meant American political viewpoints, we need a disclaimer. I am not American, and not too knowledgeable about your politics. Not just in the sense that I don't follow the day-to-day drama, but as I am not an American citizen there are several things I don't know, can't know because I've never lived in your country and therefore can't know what the effects of living in a country ruled by American policies is like. What I do know is based off of the news in the foreign section, social media (by which I mean tumblr posts), and Trevor Noah's Daily Show.

I am an outsider looking in.

Which is really rather appropriate, since the Cullens are too.

The Cullens go to high school and college, Carlisle works, they pay taxes, they own real estate, and submerge themselves in American culture. Esme, Edward, Rosalie, Emmett, and Bella are young enough that this is in many ways their world, and apart from timeouts they've more or less spent their entire lives, human and vampire, integrated into American society.

Not fully integrated, mind you, they do what they need to to fit in and get to school or, in Carlisle’s case, to work. They go no further. No extra-curriculars for the kids, no book clubs for Esme, no game nights for Carlisle. They walk parallel to humans, not among us.

In addition to this they're obscenely rich, which puts them another thousand miles from the experiences of your average American. They won't deal with the health system, which means healthcare is a non-issue, they're not going to need welfare or other social programs, unemployment is another non-issue. Name your issue, and the Cullens don't have personal stake in it. Even the climate crisis won't be a problem for them the way it will for us.

What I'm trying to say is, American political issues are a concept to them, not a lived reality. Just like they are for me. So hey, you made a great choice of blog to ask.

I'll also add here that you say the Volturi are too old to care, and I agree- from an ancient's point of view, racism is a matter of "which ethnicity are we hating today?", and it all looks rather arbitrary after a while. Same with every other issue - after a while it all just blends together into "what are the humans fighting over today? Which Christian denomination is the correct one? Huh. Good for them, I guess."

I can't put it any better than this post did, really. The Volturi are real people, humans are nerds and tumblr having Loki discourse. Aro thinks it's delightful and knows entirely too much about Watergate (and let's be real, Loki discourse as well), but the point I wanted to get at is that politics really don't matter to vampires.

And I don't think they matter to the Cullens either.

So, moving on to the next point while regretting I didn't put headlines in this post, I'll just state that I don't think vampires' minds are frozen. Their brains are unable to develop further, and they can never forget anything, but... well, this isn't the post for that, but in order for this to be true of vampires they would barely be sentient. They would not be able to process new impressions, to learn new things, nor to have an independent thought process. Yes, we see vampires in-universe (namely, Edward, who romanticizes himself and vampires) believe they're frozen and can never change, but there is no indication that this is a widespread belief, or even true. Quite the contrary - Carlisle went from a preacher's son who wanted to burn all the demons to living in Demon Capital for decades and then becoming a doctor and making a whole family of demons. Clearly, the guy has had a change in attitude over the years. Jasper, in his years as a newborn army general, slowly grew disenchanted with his life and developed depression. James initially meant to kill Victoria and hunted her across the earth, then became fascinated and changed his mind about it.

Had these people been incapable of change, Carlisle would still be hating demons, Jasper would be in Maria's army, and James would still be hunting Victoria.

It goes to follow, then, that they are able to adapt to new things.

The question is, would they?

Here I finally answer your question.

So, we have these people who don't really have any kind of stake in politics, who keep up to date all the same (or are forcibly kept up to date because high school) and are generally opinionated people.

Where do they then fall, politically?

(And this is where you might want to stop reading, anon, because I'm about to eviscerate these people.)

Alice votes for whoever's gonna win. She also makes a fortune off of betting each election. Trump's 1 to 10 victory in 2016 was a great day to be Alice. MAGA!

The actual policies involved are completely irrelevant, she does this because it's fun. Election means she gets to throw parties. Color coded parties for the Republican and Democratic primaries, and US-themed parties for Election Night! (Foreigner moment right here: I at first wrote "Election wake" before realizing that's not what y'all murricans call it.)

Alice loves politics. Doesn't know the issues, but she sure loves politics.

Bella votes Democrat. She actually knows about the issues, and cares about them. This girl is a Democrat through and through.

Carlisle doesn't vote. I can't imagine it feels right. Outside of faked papers he's not a US citizen, this is meddling in human affairs that he knows don't concern him.

More, this guy has never lived in a democracy.

In life, Carlisle lived under an absolute monarchy that, upon civil war, became an absolute theocracy. From there he learned that vampires live under a total dictatorship.

For the first 150 years of his life, democracy was that funky thing the Athenians did in history books thousands of years ago, no more relevant to him than the Ancient Egyptian monarchy is to me. Then the Americans, and later other European countries started doing this.

Good for them.

There's this mistake often made by those who view history from a... for lack of a better term, a solipsistic standpoint. A belief that the present day is the culmination of all of history. “My society is the best society, the most reasonable society; all the others had it backwards. Thank god we’re living in this enlightened age!”

The faith in our current system of government is one such belief. We (pardon me if this doesn’t apply to everybody reading this post) have grown up in democracies, being told this is the ultimate form of rule, and perhaps that is true - but remember the kings who have told their subjects they had were divine and the best possible ruler based on that. Remember also that most modern democracies haven’t actually been democracies for very long at all, America is the longest standing at some 230 years (not long at all in the grand scope of things) and they have a fracturing two-party system to show for it.

Every society, ever, has been told they’re the greatest, and their system of government the most just. Democracy is only the latest hit.

This is relevant to Carlisle because he’s immortal and decidedly not modern. Democracy has not been installed in him the way it was the rest of the Cullens, Jasper included. To him- well, it’s just not his world. He has no stakes in our human politics, and as he is older than every current democracy and has seen quite a few of them fall, he’s not going to internalize the democratic form of rule the way a modern human has.

I think the concept of voting is foreign to him.

It requires a level of participation in human society that he’s simply not at. He does the bare minimum to appear human so he do the work he loves, but nothing more, and I find that telling.

As it is I think he'd be iffy about his family doing it. He won’t stop them, but in voting they’re... well it’s kind of cheating. They’re not really citizens, none of this will affect them, and by voting they’re drowning out the votes of real human voters. He does not approve.

Edward votes Democrat. He's... well he’s the kind of guy who will oil a girl’s bedroom window so he can more easily watch her sleep without being discovered, justifying it to himself as being okay because if she were to tell him to get lost he’d stop immediately. Same guy is so sure that he’d leave and never return again if she wanted him to, except this is the man who returned to Forks to hang around his singer, knowing there was a significant chance he might kill her. To say nothing of his Madonna/Whore complex, or of the fact that he tried to pimp out his wife twice, and was willing to forcibly abort her child.

This guy is very much in love with chivalry, with being an enlightened and feminist man who supports and respects women, while not understanding the entire point of feminism, which is female liberation.

He votes Democrat because he’s such an enlightened feminist who cares about women’s rights.

Emmett doesn’t care to vote, but if he has to he votes Republican. The guy is from the 1930′s, and has major would-be-the-uncle-who-cracks-racist-jokes-if-he-was-older vibes.

Esme doesn’t vote, that would require getting out of the house.

More, I just... can’t see it. I can’t see her being one to read up on politics and The Issues, period, but if she has to then I doubt she’d be able to decide.

Jasper doesn’t vote. Alice can have her fun, he does not care.

There’s also the whole can of worms regarding the last time he went to bat for American politics.

I imagine he stays out of this.

Renesmée doesn't vote. She has no stock in the human affairs. Who would she vote for, on what grounds? When Bella tries to pull her to the urns, she points out that she's three years old.

Rosalie, guys, I’m sorry, but that girl is definitely gonna vote Republican. Perhaps not right now as it’s become the Trump party of insanity, but the Mitt Romney type of Republicans? Oh yes.

And for the record, yes I imagine she does vote. To step back from politics would be another way she was relinquishing her humanity, and that’s not allowed to happen. So, yes, she goes to the urns, less for the sake of the politics involved and more because like this, she’s still a part of society in some way.

Now, onto why I think she’s Republican, I think it’s both fiscal and social.

This girl was the daughter of a banker who somehow profited off of the Depression, and who then became part of a family with no material needs that would soon become billionaires thanks to Alice. Poverty to Rosalie is a non-issue, as it is I imagine she views it as a much lesser issue than what she’s had to deal with. The humans can pull themselves up by their bootstraps, Rosalie’s infertility is forever.

Rosalie’s empathy is strongest when she’s able to project onto others, and she won’t be able to project onto the less fortunate at all.

Then there’s the fact that the Republican party is all about traditional family values, and pro-life.

Rosalie, a woman from the 1930′s who idolizes her human life and who‘d love nothing more than to get to live out this fantasy, is down for that. And as of Breaking Dawn she’s vocally pro-life, so there’s that.

This all being said I don’t think Rosalie cares to sit down and fully understand these politics she’s voting for, the possible impact they’ll have- that’s not important. What’s important is what voting does for her.

TL;DR: I bet anon regrets asking.

#long post #twilight #twilight vampires #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #politics #history #twilight history #carlisle cullen #alice cullen #bella swan #renesmée cullen #jasper hale #rosalie hale #emmett cullen

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llaufeysonswhore · 3 years

Text

My Medicine - Loki Odinson

a/n: im back! or trying to be, i wanna be so i finished this lil blurb i started when i was extremely sick and could barely move, think or breath, more loki to come!

pairing: loki x gn!reader (lmk if i fucked that up i tried to make it gn but if i did an oopsie lmk!!!!)

summary: when you are sick the cure comes out of very unsuspecting hands (you're sick, loki heals you)

genre: fluff and a tad of angst if you squint

word count: 2.3k

Your head lolled to the side in a manner that was once considered comfortable but now sent shocks of pain through the muscle every time you moved. Glancing at your now dark laptop screen it was hard to say you looked worse. Nose red, eyes puffy, lips chapped, you looked worse for wear.

Clicking at the touchpad you wiggled your finger across it. You resorted to asking when your laptop screen wouldn’t light up. “Friday, what time is it?”

“8:15.” Came the automated voice seemingly from all around you.

“At night?!” This was ridiculous, you slept the day away.

“In the morning.” She replied, just then you watched the curtains be pulled back. Light flooded the room and your groggy brain began to piece things together. When the sky was dark and the rest of the tower was asleep, sometime between 3 and 4 am, it was hard to remember when your head felt like it was going to explode.

It was past 8 so that meant the majority of the team was out training. This level of the tower would be empty for the next few hours. You knew everyone’s schedule, it’s not something you purposely went out of your way to learn, it's just something that comes when you live with people for a prolonged period of time.

Tony was surely in his lab, Bruce was either with him or in therapy, he didn’t really adhere to a schedule like the others. Sam, Nat, Bucky, and Cap were surely sparring, Barton was shooting, and Wanda and Peter were likely placing bets on who was gonna win the sparring. Vision was with them but had been banned from betting because he was able to calculate the probability of who will win before they step on the mat.

Thor was on a date with Jane, something you knew only because he would not stop talking about it for the past two weeks. Each meal or interaction with him led to him announcing how many days were left until he saw his ‘love’. It was endearing to see such a brute-looking man skipping around on his toes, giddy because his girlfriend was coming to visit him. It made you happy to see him happy, but his happiness twinged and pulled at a part of your heart. The lonely part of it.

Knowing everyone's schedule helped you make yours. You preferred to do things alone, so you worked out when the training grounds were mostly empty, you liked to eat when no one was in the kitchen, and lounge when others were busy so the living area wasn’t crowded. This gave you reprieve the missions took from you, provided you with the solace and comfort of quietness you needed.

It was predictable, something you liked about it. But there was always someone around to throw a wrench in your gears and it just so happened to be Loki. It was almost fitting, the so-called god of mischief was the reason your plans had to be changed every so often. It seemed that every time you thought you had him figured out, even on such a small level such as his schedule, he proves you wrong each time. Part of you is convinced he’s doing it on purpose.

But even so it was difficult to track Loki down when you needed to. Either you were getting him for a meeting, getting him for Fury, or giving him something that Thor brought back from Asgard. The team liked to joke you were his assistant, but that wasn’t the case, you were the one person on the team he didn’t snap at or try to fight when delivering orders. So you picked up the slack and did the work an assistant or Thor would do despite being a team member. It eased him and the team, not having an angry Loki was good for everyone.

You wish he would talk to you or interact, something more than a curt nod or order to put his package somewhere. He never took it from you directly. And although you can admit, it is better than being yelled at like many interns had the pleasure of experiencing, it stung a little that was all you received from him. No show of friendliness or companionship, but an order and scrap of acknowledgment.

Thor had spoken privately to you on multiple occasions, saying Loki held a soft spot for you but it was never something you believed. Despite the teasing from him, and lewd innuendos thrown at you by Nat, you didn’t see how he could when he wouldn’t even look you in the eye.

You did however fail to notice the obvious signs from Loki that supported Thor’s theory. You never noticed how he would join movie nights and group meals only when you were there. He kept his distance, but he stayed. You never noticed how if anyone else sat next to him he would move or leave, but if it was you, he stayed.

“Friday?” Your voice cracked, throat scratchy, it hurt when you talked.

“Yes?” Her automated voice chirped back at you.

“Can you tell me if we have any soups in the kitchen?”

“My records tell me we do. Should I send an order to the kitchen for it to be prepared for you?”

“Please.” You feel deflated. Body aching, nose stuffy, there wasn’t an inch of you that wasn’t tired. Unable to sleep well from the congestion you were left drowsy. Eyelids drooping, head thrown back against the back of the armrest, you took in shallow breaths.

You don’t know how long you sat there like that, shakily breathing trying to think of anything other than the burning in your throat and the pressure in your head. Finally, Friday alerted you that the soup was ready so you picked yourself up to eat.

Standing on shaky legs you turn around only to fall down immediately. He was standing there.

“Loki?” Your voice was scratchy.

“Are you alright?” He was scanning you up and down, looking at your blanket nest with furrowed brows.

You let out a shaky laugh that sounded more like a crackling flame. “No, I’m sick. You probably don’t want to be near me, I could infect you.”

It was his turn to laugh. “No mortal infection could seriously hurt me. Besides, you look like you need help.” His eyes finally met yours and your chest tightened, his eyes were striking, they were deep and green. They held a presence that could make people shrink in fear but they also felt welcoming when you looked into them, inviting almost.

“No, it's ok, really. I have some soup in the kitchen, I’m sure it will help, I just need to-”

“Allow me to go get it for you.” He cut you off. It felt weird, not just talking to him but watching as he ran to get you something? It felt odd but at the same time, you didn’t want it to stop. Pushing down the fear that this is some practical joke you bide your time picking at your fingers.

He returns hastily with measured steps, careful to not spill any soup over the edges of the bowl. His speed and grace was something only a prince could acquire from some sort of gaudy etiquette training.

“Get comfortable.” He leaves little room for argument and you take heed to his order. As you adjust on the couch your eyes follow his movements. He stops in front of you, large hands almost encasing the bowl entirely.

Reaching out for the soup and he hands it to you carefully. His fingers brush yours and your breath catches in your throat causing a crackling sound to be emitted from you. feeling your face grow hot with embarrassment you duck your head, staring in the swirling broth of the soup instead of his wandering eyes.

“Are you alright?” His words carry such sincerity it pulls at your heart.

“Yes, it’s just hard to breathe.” You motion to your chest with one hand, you don’t notice the way it trembles but he does.

With gentle movements his hand comes up, catching yours as it brushes against your sternum. “May I?” You don’t know what he’s asking for permission for but you find yourself trusting him regardless.

He lets go of your hand. The phantom feeling of his skin on yours remains, leaving sparks of electricity buzzing in your skin. You watch with careful eyes as he presses his hand flat against your chest, you feel a rumbling feeling deep inside of you. It starts in your chest and travels up your throat, in its wake, it leaves a warmness that spreads to the rest of your body. You let out a sigh, no crackle accompanying it this time.

You look at him in wonder, watching as he sends you a small smile, near imperceptible. Your gaze doesn’t leave his face and you watch taking note as his eyes flutter shut and you notice his mouth softly muttering in a language you don’t understand. He looks ethereal, hair flowing in soft waves behind his shoulders and long lashes fawning down his cheeks. He’s truly beautiful, his beauty makes you feel small, insecurity bubbling in your stomach as you take in your sweats and ruffled hair.

Casting your vision away from him you focus on the feeling he is creating within you instead of the insecurity ebbing at the corners of your fog-filled mind. The buzzing soon reaches your head and you nearly whimper as you feel the pressure inside of your head diminishing slowly until you can’t feel it at all. Taking in a deep breath joy floods you as it fills your lungs freely without pain.

He pulls his hand away and you want to lean forward and follow it, to prevent the break of contact but you hold back.

“Better?” His voice is smooth, his features are still as soft as before and you clock a twinge of a smile playing at his lips.

“Much, I… how did you do that?” Filled with childlike wonder you stumble over your words looking at him with big eyes.

He breaks eye contact with you, opting to look at his hands, you follow his gaze as he speaks. “It was one of the first spells I learned, my mother, she taught me magic, and-” He takes in a sharp intake of breath then as if he’s contemplating. “It’s a childish story, you don’t need to hear it.”

He stands to leave and without even thinking you grab his wrist stopping him in his tracks. He freezes, slightly tensing under your touch. Slowly he brings his gaze back to you. “Please Loki, I would like to hear.” Your voice is barely above a whisper but you can tell he heard as he stares at where you two meet. Following his gaze you realize what you did and quickly mutter an apology, retracting your hand swiftly. “I was curious, I-I’m sorry.”

He stared at you for a moment, and it made you feel nervous in a way you couldn’t quite explain. Hesitantly, he sinks back to where he was sitting next to you.

“Thor was sick. We were children, still fairly young and I was upset that he wasn’t doing everything with me like usual. We had classes, fighting lessons, music lessons, it was everything that comes with being part of a royal family, and I… I didn’t like doing it alone.” His honesty was endearing, the vulnerability he was sharing pulled a smile at your lips. It made you wonder how much had to have changed for him to go from hating being without his brother to treating him how you would a stranger now, you longed to know more, but knew better than to push him any more right now.

“My mother was never good at the spell, this, she confided in me. But she taught me what she could and I slaved over being good enough at it to heal him. Of course, his condition was a lot worse than yours.”

“Of course.” You agreed with a genuine smile on your lips.

He looked at you with a sly smirk playing at the corners of his mouth but his restraint stopped it from brandishing itself fully. You gazed at yourself momentarily before he seemed to snap back to reality, his back straightening. “I’m glad you feel better.”

“Me too.” You hastily agreed. “Thank you.”

He averted his gaze, giving you a curt nod and got up and left without another word, and stalked off.

You weren’t sure why, but you felt a longing for his presence. The small interaction you had sprouted a need for him in your chest you couldn’t shake. Unknown to you the same thing had sprouted in his chest, but long before this interaction, and it had spread like ivy. Curling around his throat when he tried to greet you in the morning, stamping out the words on his tongue like an unforgiving boot to the butt of a cigarette. The embarrassment manifested in tight swirling strands of ivy that curled around his heart.

The same weed guided his hands to your chest when he healed you, unthinking, and acting purely on emotion. It was the same thing that brought the heat to his face when you thanked him. It made him dizzy and he hated that he couldn’t control himself around you.

The cool and calculated god was anything but in your presence.

So, he walked away, despite the pain it caused him to do. He felt foolish for opening up, ridiculed himself in his head, and promised himself, never again and mentally prepared to pull the blasted weed from its roots. Only, now, you weren’t gonna let him off that easily.

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yuki-the-master-of-demons · 3 years

Text

Sensitive Spots Part 1 (NSFWish) Mammon x Male MC

I like to think that, when in demon form, the bases of demon wings and tails (where it connects to their back) are sensitive and can be arousing for demons when touched. I wanted to explore this idea a bit and decided to write this with my MC, Yuki (he/him). This can easily be read as a reader insert too if y’all want

"Am I doing this right?" Yuki asks as he leans over the pool table.

"Nah, you got ya whole hold wrong." Mammon set his pool cue up as if he's about to hit a shot. "See my left hand?"

"Okay so..." Yuki tries to replicate it.

"Yeah, that's it!" Mammon grabs one of the balls and sets it in front of Yuki. "Now try an hit it."

Yuki hits the ball. It curves left.

"Well, at least ya hit it hard enough." Mammon sets another ball up. "Try and aim for the center."

Yuki tries again and, this time, the ball mostly goes straight. "I think I can get this."

"Nice! Then how about a game?" Mammon asks with a smirk. "Don't worry, I'll go easy on you."

"Oh okay, how do I play? All I know is you don't want the white ball to go in."

"Why don't we play classic eight-ball?" Mammon begins setting the balls up in the rack. "I'll pocket the solids and you pocket the stripes. Ya hit the eight-ball in after ya pocketed 'em."

"Oh yeah, we can do a game," Yuki smirks. "But you want more than that, don't you?"

Mammon laughs. "Of course! What's the point of playing if there isn't a reward for the winner?"

"Alright, Mammon." Yuki crosses his arms. "What do you want to bet? And we aren't playing for money. You're guaranteed to win once money is on the table."

"Then what are we gonna play for?" Mammon asks.

Yuki shrugs. "I don't know. You're the one who wants to make it a bet."

Mammon takes a moment to think. "Well, how about ya owe me a favor if you lose?"

"As long as it's not an impossible favor, then sure. Now what can I get from you?" Yuki stares at Mammon as he thinks.

A soft pink appears in Mammon's cheeks. "Ya want me to do something for ya? I-I can think of uh- some things."

"Hm..." Yuki hums. "I don't really get to see your demon form too often."

"Ya wanna see my demon form?"

"Can I touch your horns if I win? Or not, I won't force you." Yuki tries to make that clear. "If you don't want to be touched, that's fine."

"Ya can touch me if ya want. Wait- I mean, I don't-" Mammon fumbles over his words. "Yeah, if you win, ya can touch my horns."

Yuki smiles. "Alright, we got a bet then."

The game starts, and Yuki is shit at it. The ball misses the pocket half the time Yuki hits it, and he accidentally pockets the cue ball every other turn. Mammon easily pockets every ball he goes for and even lets Yuki get some extra turns to try and catch up. But, by the end of the game, Mammon is the one who pockets the eight-ball.

"And the Great Mammon wins!" Mammon throws his arms up and cheers. Yuki chuckles at the sight. "You won against a rookie who didn't know how to hold a cue until today. So are you gonna keep that favor in that back pocket, or are you gonna cash in that favor now?"

A small flush returns to Mammon's face. "Well, since I'm all gracious, I can cash in that favor and give ya what ya want too."

"Oh? How?"

"How about ya clean my horns for me?"

And that's how Yuki ends up sitting on Mammon's couch as the demon sits, facing him, on the floor. Yuki studies Mammon's horns, his fingers running across the dark hard keratin-like material. The demons horns swirl upward and are a deep shade of black. They remind Yuki of ribbons.

"So you want me to clean it with a brush and then a towel?" Yuki asks. "Yeah, and don't worry about having to be gentle with them either."

"Well, okay then." Yuki looks over the small brush. "I'm guessing I should start at the top?"

"Yeah, ya can do that."

"Can you get closer?"

Mammon, cheeks flushed, hesitates but does what Yuki asks.

"Alright, and can you- Hm... Can I move your head as needed?"

"I uh- Yeah." Mammon mutters. "Go ahead."

Even when Mammon said he didn't need to be, Yuki is gentle. He guides Mammon's head to rest against his thigh and then begins brushing the demon's horns. The small brush in Yuki's hand seems to be made for this, and it probably is when he thinks about it. It easily fits through the curls of Mammon's horns, reaching in every crevasse. Yuki makes sure to clean every inch, not because Mammon would complain if he didn't, but because he's finding this to be quite relaxing. As Yuki nears the base of Mammon's horn, he can see the demon's wings twitch. Yuki chuckles at the sight.

"What's so funny?" Mammon asks.

"You know you're adorable, right?"

Mammon grumbles and face gets even hotter. "I ain't cute! I'm a demon; we ain't supposed to be cute."

Yuki smiles and takes a towel to finish off cleaning the horn. "You may be a big scary demon to everyone else, but you'll always be cute ol' Mammon to me."

"Ya got a weird definition of cute." Mammon pouts.

"Always have, always will. Can you lean on my other leg?" Yuki asks. "I'm finished with this one."

Again, Mammon does what he's asked, and Yuki begins the process over. It's calming. The human begins to wonder something.

"Do your wings need cleaning too?"

Mammon's wings twitch again. "W-what?"

"Maybe I could give you a massage?" Yuki suggests.

"W-well, if ya offering, a massage sounds nice."

"Alright then, I'm almost-" Yuki finishes off cleaning the last spot with a towel.

"And done. Now let's get you on the bed."

"Y-yeah." Mammon's wings flutter as he stands and makes his way to his bed.

"Do you need help taking off all that?" Yuki follows Mammon at tugs on his leather straps. "Your whole BDSM thing looks like a puzzle."

"I uh- Yeah!" Mammon's face keeps getting redder and redder. "Ya can help me take this off."

Yuki begins undoing the buckles of the demon's top, and Mammon does nothing to help. Mammon just gazes at Yuki's concentrated face, tongue partially sticking out as he figures out what strap he has to undo next. The humans hands keeps brushing against Mammon's skin, and it's driving the demon wild.

"Ah, I think I got it." Yuki undoes the last strap and the top begins to slip off the demon's shoulders.

Mammon chuckles nervously as he pulls his wings in so the top can fall to the floor. "Y-you're pretty good at that. Maybe you could uh- We could-" Mammon yelps as he feels a cold hand on his back.

"Oh sorry, I should've warned you."

"No, you're- It's fine." Mammon tries to act calm.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Yuki removes his hand and steps in front of Mammon. "If you're uncomfortable, please tell me."

"I'm not!" Mammom tries to reassure the human. "I want you too. I mean, I wouldn't be nervous; you're just a human."

"You're nervous?" There's worry in Yuki's voice. "I don't have to give you a massage, Mammon."

"No, no, no! I want a massage. Trust me."

"Well..." The worry if Yuki's face remains. "If you want to stop at any moment, tell me, okay?"

"Yeah, I will." Mammon flops onto his bed.

"Could you scoot in more?"

"How would you- Eh, whatever." Mammon does as Yuki asks. He feels added weight onto the mattress and, suddenly, Yuki is sitting on his tailbone. Mammon tenses up at first, but, when Yuki's hands touch him and travel up his spine, he relaxes. It's obvious Yuki isn't sure what he's doing and is trying to do what he's seen other people do before. That's until Yuki gets close to Mammon's wings. His touch is gentle as he studies them, tracing along the muscle connecting the wing to his back and then feeling up the leathery wing. Mammon tenses up, and he bites his lip.

Yuki feels Mammon's wings twitch in his hands. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No! I mean-" Mammon clears his throat. "Keep going. You don't have to be gentle with my wings."

Even with Mammon's words, Yuki's touch is still soft. The human's hands feel along the thin skin of his wings and then back to the base of the demon's wings. Mammon's body is growing hot and he has to keep himself from moaning. As Yuki massages the flesh connecting his wings to his back, Mammon can feel himself slowly getting hard, his cock stirring in his pants.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Yuki asks. "You don't seem relaxed at all."

"I'm relaxed!" Mammon hides his face in his arms. "I just- The base of wings are a bit sensitive, okay."

"Oh, I'll focus somewhere else then."

"Wait, no. It's-" Mammon tries to find the words to say. "It's a good kind of sensitive."

Yuki is silent for a moment and then asks another question. "So like a cat's tail? Are there a lot of nerves or something?"

"I don't fucking know. It just- It feels good!"

"Okay okay, I'll give your wings special attention." Yuki laughs and continues kneading the base of Mammon's wings. Mammon pulls a pillow close to him and buries his face in it. The human's thumbs rub circles into his muscles and palms press against his skin. Mammon struggles to keep himself silent, quiet moans being muffled by the fabric of the pillow. Mammon can feel his cock pushed up against the mattress. It's taking all of his self control to keep himself from rutting against it. Yuki's touching him, making him feel like this. He's so fucking hard. He wants Yuki to touch him more, to flip him over and grind on his cock, to make him cum.

"Mammon, are you in here and do you know where Yuki is? It's time for dinner." The door to Mammon's room opens suddenly and Asmo peers in. "Oh~ And what are you two up to, hm?"

"Oh hey, Asmo." Yuki turns to the younger demon with a smile. "I'm just giving Mammon a massage."

"And focusing on his wings I see~" Asmo giggles. "Is Mammon finally being more forward with you?"

Mammon wants to scream into the pillow.

Yuki's eyebrows furrow. "'Being more forward?' What are you talking about?"

"So he isn't? But you're groping his wings." Asmo thinks for a moment. "Oh~ Mammon how naughty of you."

Mammon throws his pillow at his brother. "Fuck off!”

Asmo ducks our of the way and laughs. "Come on, Yuki. We should leave Mammon to take care of himself."

"Um, okay? Sorry we had to cut this short, Mammon. I had fun though." Yuki pulls himself off the bed and is dragged out of the room by Asmo.

Mammon plops his face onto his mattress and screams into it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You're later than usual, Mammon." Lucifer glares at his brother as Mammon sits at the dinner table.

"I had some stuff to take care of, alright?" Mammon pouts and sits at the table.

"You don't have to get on my ass about it."

"Yeah, it's not like he's gonna be late for classes, Lucifer. Don't be a dick." Yuki slides a plate of food over to Mammon. "I was able to save you a plate before Beel ate everything."

Mammon's cheeks turn slightly pink. "It's not like I needed you to, but... Thanks."

Yuki smiles at him and then continues eating.

"Maybe you should at least tell everyone why you're so late, hm?" Asmo gives a knowing smile to Mammon. "Tell everyone what I walked in on you two doing."

That statement catches the attention of every demon at the table.

"What were you doing with Yuki, Mammon?" Satan asks with an angry tone.

"Why is Asmo making that face?!" Levi's face flushes.

Belphie frowns. "You better not have made him do something creepy."

Beel gives Yuki a worried look.

"Mammon." Lucifer glares at him.

"H-hey!" Mammon yelps. "Don't look at me like that! I didn't do anything wrong!"

Yuki sighs. "Y'all calm down. I lost a bet and cleaned his horns. Saw an opportunity to touch his wings, so I offered to give him a massage."

Asmo raises an eyebrow. "You 'saw an opportunity?' Oh, Yuki~"

"What? I like y'all's demon forms, but I rarely get a chance to touch anything!" Yuki pouts. "I wanna touch! Is that a bad thing?”

All the demons give Yuki a look.

After a moment of silence, the human asks. “What? Did I say something weird?”

#obey me smut #obey me x mc #obey me x male mc #obey me mammon x mc #obey me mammon x m!mc #obey me mammon x male mc #obey me mammon #obey me mammon smut #OC: Yuki #obey me trans mc #obey me ftm oc #obey me male oc #obey me male mc

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jungwonenthusiast · 3 years

Text

I’ll Take You to Heaven

pairing: dom! Jeno x fem! reader

genre: smut

warnings: protected sex, oral (female recieving), degradation, Jeno has a small pain kink

word count: 2.9 k

A/N: in this fic jeno kinda just dives into being a dom without a conversation with the reader if they are okay with the things he’s doing. i know for most this is a given but do not do this in real life!! please make sure your partner is consenting to being a sub and genuinely wants to do everything. sorry just felt like saying that :)

The place is a little bit dark and there’s only a few people.

“I’m nervous.” you say, following him close behind.

“Don’t be, it’ll just be us.” He gets into the square and looks at you. “I’m gonna teach you how to fight in case anyone other than me pushes you over at the skatepark.”

“Other than you?” you eye him.

“Yup.” He says while wrapping white tape around his hands.

“And why do you get special privileges?” you cross your arms.

He stops. “Because we’ve been friends since the beginning of time?”

You giggle. “That’s reasonable.”

He grabs your hands and pulls you to be standing in front of him. “Alright now hold your fists up, guard your face.”

You do as he says.

“Good,” he nods and holds his hands up, palms facing you. “give me a punch.”

“Like hard?” you ask nervously.

“As hard as you can.” he says.

You give him a solid punch. You’re not afraid of hurting him, you guys used to fist fight all the time.

“Come on, harder.” he says.

You try again.

“Harder.” he says firmly.

You hit him as hard as possible and his hand flies back.

“Atta-girl.” He smiles at you. That makes you tingle a bit. You can feel your cheeks get hot. “Now keep going.”

“Oh my god,” you exhale maybe half an hour later. “I’m tired.”

“But we’ve only gotten started.” He shakes your shoulder.

“I’m tireddd.” You whine.

“Come one darling I know you’ve got a few more hits in you.” he says. Darling? Jeno has always been charming, but never so upfront like this.

“I’m confident that I don’t.” You start to sit down.

He grabs your hands to pull you up and he nearly does but you let gravity drag you down.

“Come on get up.” He tugs at you again.

“Nope.” You shake you head.

“Come onnn.” He grabs your ribcage, ready to pick you up.

You squeal. “No no no.”

He stops. “Get up then.”

You don’t move.

“You’re asking for this.” he says before sweeping you off the ground. Jesus he’s strong.

“Hey!” you’re both in a giggling fit. “Let fucking go!”

“You’re the one with your legs wrapped around me.” He says and you freeze, embarrassed.

You unravel from him and he puts you down.

“You ready to go again?” he says.

“I told you I’m tired dude.” You groan and start to sit down again. He’s about to grab you when you roll away from him.

“You’re so lazy man.” he scoffs and plops down next to you.

“I know, I’m not ashamed.” you cross your arms over your chest and shut your eyes, the dim lights glow orange behind your eyelids.

You hear him moving next to you, then you feel something on your shoulder. Your eyes fly open to get a peek, and it’s him, laying down next to you with his forehead pressed against you.

“I missed you,” he pulls away to look at you, his face is alarmingly close to yours. “Why are you always so busy with school?”

“Because I actually want to be successful.” you joke and he rolls his eyes.

“Hey now,” he says. Wow he’s handsome. You always knew that he was cute, but in the last few years he got all tall, his voice dropped, and his figure got insane. Sometimes you catch yourself staring at him a little too long whenever he comes over to swim. “I don’t want to go home. Can I stay at your place?” He overlaps your ankle with his.

“Yeah,” you agree. “You wanna go now?”

“Sure,” he leaps to his feet and holds a hand out for you. “I didn’t really get to teach you much though.”

You adjust your shirt. “We used to fight all the time, I think I have enough practice from that.”

“You were pretty good.” he picks up his backpack. “I’ll never forgive you for shoving that clump of dirt in my mouth.”

“You deserved it alright.” You follow him to the car.

“I did not!” he argues.

“Telling your best friend’s crush that she likes him is a perfect reason to get a clump of dirt in the mouth.” You hop in and buckle your seatbelt.

“I’ll get you back one day.”

Jeno drives with one hand. The other is always out the window or on the gear shift. You secretly wish his free hand was on your thigh though, and you’ve been thinking that for a couple of years now.

He plops down onto your bed as you put your purse down.

“Why are your covers so soft.” you turn to find him cuddling your duvet.

You laugh and get on the bed next to him. “Let’s watch Shameless.” you grab the remote connected to your Apple TV.

“Fionaa,” he ogles.

“She could be your mom.” you remark, only a little jealous.

“I love me a good milf.” he says, making you laugh.

Your room is dark a little chilly. You’re under the covers now and getting nervous whenever you feel his leg against yours.

Get it together, why are you being weird? This is normal. But is it?

“I don’t get why she’s with him,” he sneers. “I’m so much hotter than Jimmy, don’t you think?” he turns to you.

“I’m not answering that.” you look away and he pokes your side. “Hey!’

“Come on, I’m hotter than him no?” he persists, grabbing at your side.

You slap his hand away. “I’ll kill you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” he sits up and throws the blanket off of you. “I will tickle you.”

You get ready to run away but he grabs you before you get the chance. He throws you down, scratching lightly at your ribs and pinching your sides.

You try to be angry but you can’t help but laugh. “Stop stop stop!’ he doesn’t. “Truce!”

“I’m not stopping until you say I’m hotter than Jimmy!” he climbs onto of you, knees beside your hips. You’re laughing too hard to think about it though.

“Literally everyone is hotter than Jimmy!” You yelp. “Stop it now!”

“Not good enough!” He’s still going. You can feel your shirt starting to shimmy up.

“Fine, fine! You’re hotter than Jimmy!” You exhale when he stops.

“See how easy that was?” he smiles, still on top of you. His cheeky smile fades though, and soon you’re both sitting there in silence. Your shirt is hiked up high enough to see the bottom of your bra.

You’re trying to think of something to say when he leans down and kisses you. A long, soft kiss. His hands are warm on either side of your face.

You’re too shocked to move.

He pulls away quickly. “Shit, sorry. I-” he stops. “Sorry.

He’s about to get off when you grab him and crash your lips against his. He catches himself and melts into the kiss, his hand finding your bare waist.

You pull away from him, breathing embarrassing heavily.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” he says softly.

You frown. “You’re so corny.”

He rolls his eyes. “You really have to ruin every moment huh?”

“This isn’t a moment,” you argue.

He cocks and eyebrow. “You sure? I’m on top of you and you’re half-naked.”

You tug your shirt back down. “I am not.” He pouts. “See, you just lost torso privileges.”

He groans. “So bossy.” then dips back down to kiss you.

You’ve made out with people before, but with him it just feels so different. Maybe it’s because you’ve wanted it for so long. He smells like Prada and his lips are like velvet.

He kisses hungrily. To be honest, most boys do, but it doesn’t feel like he’s starving, it feels like he’s savoring you.

He pulls away and goes for your neck, kissing you like you’re made of glass.

You slither your fingers underneath his hoodie. “Take it off.” you say and he complies, throwing the garment on your bedroom floor.

You flip him over onto his back, desperate to get a taste of his skin.

You trace every bone and every muscle on his stomach and place tender kisses everywhere you can reach.

He pulls you up, wanting another taste of your mouth. He grips your hips tight and pushes you down onto his hard on, earning a small gasp from you.

You can feel yourself getting worked up, that fire inside of you burning brighter than ever.

You grind down on him and he groans into your mouth.

“Fuck.” he whispers and wraps an arm around your waist and lays you on your back. He pushes your shirt up and plants kisses from your neck all the way to the band of your pants. He looks at you, asking for permission and you nod. He tugs your pants off and throws them to the side. Your knees fall together, trying to cover up.

“Hey.” he chuckles at you. “None of that.”

“I’m shy.” you whine.

He rolls his eyes. “Since when have you been shy?” He spreads your legs open and settles between your thighs.

He kisses the tender skin of your hips and inner thighs. Your heart is thumping in anticipation. His thumb skims over your clothed core and you shiver. He leans down again and you’re ready to feel something but all you get is a kiss on the edge of your underwear. You whine.

“What’s wrong?” he looks up at you.

You roll your eyes at him.

“You’re gonna have to tell me.” he comes up to kiss your neck. “Or I’m just gonna stay here,” he kisses your thigh “and kiss you until you’re begging for me.”

“When did you start to think it’s okay to tease me.” you huff at him.

He bites lightly at your soft skin and you flinch. “Come on,”

You want him so bad it nearly burns, but your ego is getting in the way.

“I know you need this,” he licks a stripe up your thigh, “you’ve been so stressed about school lately. I bet you haven’t gotten off in months.”

Your knees knock back together and he bumps them open. “Come on, when’s the last time you hooked up with someone?”

“Maybe-” you start.

“The last time where someone actually made you finish.” he cuts you off.

That makes you laugh. “December I think?”

His fingers are trailing up and down your clothed core. “That’s way too long ago, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” you exhale, trying your best to control your breathing. “So do something about it.”

“Only if you ask nicely.” he says.

You swallow your pride with a big gulp. “Please?”

He smirks. “Say it again.”

“Please?” you squirm.

“Please what?” he tugs at your underwear.

“Please… please eat me out.” you say softly and you see him smile.

“Your wish is my command.” he throws your leg over his shoulder and pulls your underwear to the side, like a fucking professional.

He gives you one long, gentle lick and you feel your body relax.

He kisses your thigh again before diving in and running his tongue over your clit in delicious circles. You tug at his hair and you let out a loud whine. You feel him moan against you and you let go of your grip.

“No, no, keep doing that,” he says and you give him a questioning look. “I like it.” he shines you a smile.

He goes back to tasting you and he’s so damn good at it that your eyes roll back. You haven’t felt this good in so long.

He runs his tongue over your clit over and over in waves and soon your legs are starting to tremble.

“Fuck,” you whisper and he smiles. Your thighs start to close but he pushes them up, keeping you spread and pretty for him.

You start to roll your hips onto his tongue and he moans.

You’re so, so close to seeing those stars behind your eyelids when he pulls away.

“The fuck was that for?” you complain and he laughs.

“Why? Were you about to cum?” he snickers. “Do I make you feel that good?”

“Yes,” you admit, “please keep going.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Please? Please I need it.” you beg and you watch his eyes change from teasing to deviant. He smiles and leans back down.

He’s sucking your clit when he slides one finger nice and slow into you. You gasp a little when he pushes up.

“So fucking wet.” he whispers and pushes in another.

He curls his fingers and you whine out loud.

“Fuck yes.” you say.

He turns to look at the mirror next to your bed. “Look at yourself.” he says.

“What?” you ask.

“You heard me,” he says, still pumping his fingers into you. “Look at yourself, I want you to see how good I make you feel.”

You almost cum just from hearing him say that. Since when was he likes this. This Jeno is so different from the Jeno you usually know, but this alter ego makes everything so much hotter.

You obey and look at yourself. Spread open and eager for him, taking his fingers as you should.

“Feel nice?” he comes up to give you a kiss, you can taste your juices on him, syrupy and cloying.

You nod and look into his eyes, he slaps your cheek lightly. “Keep your eyes on the mirror.” You listen and he starts to drive his fingers into you harder.

“Fuck!” you grab his wrist. “Don’t stop.”

He leans down again to get another taste of you when you start to shake.

You watch your face contort from all the pleasure when finally, you’re shot into the clouds and you’re touching the fucking moon.

Jeno kisses you again. You crave him so bad, you want him inside of you and not just because you know it’ll feel damn good, but because you want to be connected.

“Fuck me now.” you say softly.

“Really?” he asks, smiling. So bipolar. “Do you have a condom?”

You roll your eyes and reach over to your nightstand to dig through the drawer for a condom.

He tugs his sweats down and strokes his length before rolling the condom on.

He’s hard as a fucking rock and you point it out.

“I can’t help it. Nearly everything you do makes me hard, how do you expect me to react when you’re cumming on my face.” he says while gliding the tip over your pussy.

You hiss. “That feels good.”

“Yeah?” he kisses your neck. “How bad do you want me to fuck you?”

“Really really bad.” You look at him pathetically. “Please fuck me,” you say. “I want you to fill me up.”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “What a good slut. You were a brat for bit but look at you, already learning to be good for me.”

Your body is still zinging from the last orgasm and you nearly cry out when he pushes into you.

“Fuck,” he growls. He’s big, just the perfect amount of big to hit your g spot with every thrust.

“You feel so good.” you whine.

“I bet I do.” he says while fucking you agonizingly slow.

“Faster.” you plead.

“Only because you’ve been good.” he starts to pick up the pace and you grab at his back, digging your nails into the ridges of muscle.

He groans and bites softly at your neck.

How does this feel so fucking good? You think to yourself as the tip of his cock brushes against your spot.

He kisses your collarbone before pounding you, holding the headboard above you for leverage.

You curse loudly and hold onto him as tight as you can.

“Touch yourself.” he tells you and you do as you're told right away.

His cock fucking you deep and your fingers on your clit make your eyes roll back for the hundredth time of the night.

“Do you wanna cum?” he asks.

You nod, desperate for release. “Yes, please.”

“Good girl.” he smiles. “Go on then, cum on this cock.”

His words finally send you over the edge. You have to remind yourself to come back to Earth as you're floating in space.

“Fuck.” he groans into your neck. He takes his hand through his hair and kisses you. “You’re so pretty.”

You blush, then blush even more because you’re blushing just because he called you pretty after fucking you like a pornstar.

He slumps down next to you then pulls your body close to his so that you’re face to face.

“Was I okay?” he asks. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I was so rough.”

You giggle. “No it’s okay, I liked it. Is your back okay?”

He turns his head to try to get a look. “I don’t know,” he flips around to show you. “how does it look?”

Your eyes widen. “Holy shit.” You touch the streaks of red going from his shoulder blades to his lower back. “I’m so sorry.”

“Is it bad?” he laughs. “Take a picture, I wanna see.”

You reach at your nightstand for your phone and snap a picture.

“Don’t kill me.” you wince as you hand him your phone.

He takes it and laughs. “Holy fuck. Guess I was dicking you down good.” he smirks at you and you punch his arm. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think I was doing it that hard.” you say, a little embarrassed.

“Nah, I think it’s hot. I can’t wait to show Jaemin.”

You punch him again. “Don’t you dare. He’s gonna think I’m a fucking psycho!”

#nct #nct smut #jeno smut

371 notes · View notes

stanzoeywade · 3 years

Text

Tiptoe - Poppy x MC

Taglist: @somewillwin @uhh-the-green-thing @jmojellybae @simp-pony @made-me-deep-blue @uselesslesbianfr @it-lives-in-braidwood-manor @belvoiresqueenbee @alexlabhont @samanthadalton @crazzyplays @sparring-hyena @baexpoppy @cloakanddaggerthings

Summary: Poppy and MC meet in summer and they were dating but broke it off, not related to free falling dhaisja don't ask about ch3 idk either.

A/N: uhm hi I've been a ghost for like months lol but I heard from a little birdie that queen b is coming back in September and I'm so ready to clown for my wife Poppy again. Based on song below which is a bop. I also did not check my spelling or grammar I die like a dumbass. My one braincell would like to thank u all and Gabi for this fic 💗

There's hardly anything in this world that captivates you, until you see her. Her flawless skin, her blonde hair and those deep chocolate orbs that you just want to stare at and drown in forever. Who knew such a beauty existed? It boggles you to know that the Min-Sinclair heiress is perfect. One might say that you're jealous but deep down you know that's not the case. Jealousy? No, it's not jealousy, you're enthralled by her. It's not even because of how fucking gorgeous she looks, it runs deeper than that. There's just this weird sense of kinship that you feel when you look at her. She's more than the ranking, she's vulnerable and actually cares, something you saw when you went to the animal shelter.

The way her eyes sparkled when she saw the rescue animals, the way her mouth curved into that gentle smile. Who knew the queen bee of Belvoire had a heart? Her vulnerability is further shown when you realise that the golden girl of Belvoire has her own scars, her pride a by-product of the hurt caused by family and so called friends.

Having seen the forefront of it all, Belvoire is cutthroat. Everything matters, the clothes you wear, your family name. It's a free for all, no one cares who gets burned, low blows exchanged, it's all a big mind game and those who fall under pressure lose not just their reputation but everything they have worked for. But apart from all of that, she's still the first thing that makes you smile.

It's damning, the way your mind and heart races at the thought of Poppy. The way her eyes light up when she flashes that gentle smile, where one look is all it takes to make your knees weak and the blood rushing up your cheeks. You've never seen such a beauty, her smile is like a soft ray of sunshine, warming you up. However, she's also as mysterious as the moon, especially since she acts so sweet and the next minute she's as cold as ever. It's enough to give you whiplash.

Such gentle and delicate features, yet her personality is as fiery as the sun, I guess it's true what they say, the sun is beautiful yet staring at it can become painful.

It's confusing as to why Rosie's fallen so hard for Poppy, they've been rivals from the start, with each other's goal to come out on top. Things have definitely changed after the night they slept together, Poppy's words have no actual bite to them. If she were brave enough Rosie would've called Poppy out on it, but she's so confused on where they stand that she doesn't want to risk this newfound "friendship" if one can even call it that.

It suddenly hits Rosie like a brick. 'Wait, has Poppy been courting me in her own weird way or am I imagining shit?' She becomes more confused as Poppy seems to stare at her longer than she ever did, sometimes Rosie would meet eyes with Poppy who seems to have a longing stare as if she has so much to convey yet has no courage to do so. Sometimes it gets to the point where Poppy blushes after she realises that both of them have been staring at each other for too long. Both of them being a flustered and blushing mess, looking away as if they've been burned from getting too close to a fire.

Most people in Belvoire would argue that its not longing and wistful glances that the two are exchanging, they'd say that those were intense glares formed from the ongoing rivalry that the two have established in public, but anyone who personally knows Poppy and Rosie would say differently. There's also an ongoing bet between the students of the school. Some argue that Poppy and Rosie are secretly dating whilst the rest argue that they absolutely loathe each other and the ongoing stares are to intimidate each other to give in and leave Belvoire.

Zoey and Veronica are secretly in cahoots in which they bet that the two are definitely dating or in Veronica's words "those two are definitely fucking" which earns her a fond smile as well as a roll of the eyes from Zoey. Chloe suspects something between Poppy and Rosie, considering they genuinely don't seem to put energy behind the insults they throw at each other. She doesn't think that the two are lovers but she definitely thinks that they're secretly friends.

It's not until Veronica sees Rosie wink at Poppy when she thought nobody was looking, and she was certain that the blonde would glare at Rosie but imagine her surprise when Poppy flirts back by winking back. In which she's all too excited to text Zoey about. "Omfg bitch, you won't believe what I saw today, like holy fuck the two gays were flirting when they thought no one was looking." All she gets in response from Zoey was "show receipts pls."

Rosie can feel herself falling for Poppy, both of them know that things have changed. Neither seem too interested in fighting and when they do argue, it's all for show, after all no one knows that they're secretly pining after each other. She suddenly remembers how they met.

-Flashback-

Being relatively new to New York, Rosie was eager to meet new people and what better way to start off than hooking up with strangers from a random bar? After all, the city was big and it's been a while. As soon as she arrived someone immediately caught her attention. One Poppy Min-Sinclair, dressed to the nines, she was definitely Rosie's type. Not really expecting anything Rosie struts towards her, in hopes of beginning a conversation.

At first Poppy seemed uninterested, scoffing and she felt a presence near her. She didn't really want to deal with anyone considering they're usually just random guys who wanted to hook up in the bathrooms or worse they're drunk as fuck trying to flirt with her. However, imagine her surprise when she looks at the person that dared to sit by her. Poppy would be lying if she said that the girl in front of her wasn't her type. She seemed sweet, and had a gentle smile. It was also a bonus that the girl seemed to know how to dress herself.

When their eyes met, there was this lightning spark that just fit into place, the two had chemistry. It was undeniable, the two just knew how to push and pull. The banter was there, so was the attraction.

Poppy wasn't shy about showing her attraction, obviously checking Rosie out, which earns her a low chuckle from the other girl. "At least buy me dinner first before you undress me with you eyes?" said Rosie with mirth dancing around her eyes, whilst Poppy just laughs, soft and languidly slow. At which point Rosie knew she was screwed, the blonde in front of her looked like she just walked out of the runway, and her laugh was definitely something Rosie wanted to hear more of.

She's pulled out of her epiphany once Poppy speaks, voice sultry and pulling Rosie in like a siren. "My name is Poppy Min-Sinclair, and I do what I want sweetheart." The confidence she exudes is shown in her voices. It's addicting the way the blonde presents herself, every move calculated and poised. Every word that leaves her lips is deliberate and elegant in her own unique way. If she was in her right mind, Rosie would've been terrified by how enraptured she was by this girl in front of her.

Rosie wasn't one to back down from a challenge therefore she decides to tease the girl in front of her. "Is your name supposed to be important? I've never heard of it. Anyways, since you've introduced yourself so nicely, my name's Rosie." Poppy just raises an eyebrow at her semi-surprised that the other girl hasn't heard of her. "Sorry babe, the whole world doesn't revolve around you." said Rosie with a cheeky smile and wink and before Poppy can retort Rosie finishes off by saying "but it definitely should revolve around you, I mean look at you, you're mesmerising."

If it were any other person, Poppy would have definitely rolled her eyes and walked away, but Rosie seemed to mean it. The other girl definitely looked like she wore her heart on her sleeve, and it was just so damn endearing that Poppy, against her usual M.O., she decides to stay and talk to the other girl. 'She looks cute enough, but if she's gonna be annoying then I'll just ditch her later.' thought Poppy.

Both women were intrigued by each other, and one thing led to another. Before they knew it they were together in a hotel room. Neither of them cared about who made the move first, all they knew was that they had to have each other one way or the other.

Despite her pent up desire and lust, Poppy still cared about her reputation, after all even if she was on break it didn't mean she can be careless, plus she didn't exactly want to expose Rosie to Belvoire's dirty laundry, the girl seemed nice enough and Poppy wasn't about to mess with this girl. Sure she's a fucking bitch but that doesn't mean she wants people to suffer because of her unless they've wronged her or any of her friends in some way. She's petty but she's not that petty.

God knows Belvoire is a shithole.

They're definitely closer than what should be conceived as acceptable, considering Rosie is literally one step away from kissing Poppy. Not like either of then cared considering they were too focused on each other to pay attention to their surroundings. It's only when the bartender coughs that the two pull away from each other as if taken out of their seemingly lulled state.

Rosie's about to say goodbye, considering the blonde seems like she's torn between leaving or staying, but she's caught by surprise when Poppy yanks her arm back. "Where do you think you're going, little lamb? I didn't say I was done with you yet." The way it was said was enough to make Rosie shiver. The way the Min-Sinclair heiress said it so confidently, it didn't help that she looked to be the epitome of lust and desire at that moment, but from then on Rosie knew she was fucked, both literally and figuratively.

Before she knew it she was pulled into a car headed to the nearest luxury hotel, which just so happens to be a presidential suite at The Ritz. Rosie didn't show but she was shocked. She knew the girl was rich, I mean come on her clothes are fresh off the runway and the blonde exuded power and wealth. But this was like a bucket of ice water being dropped on Rosie's head, this was definitely something she wasn't expecting.

NSFW AHEAD

She's taken aback by the inside of the hotel suite, she expected it to be fancy, but nothing could prepare her for the plush king sized bed, as well as the overall layout of the room. It looks like something straight out of an IKEA magazine, Rosie can't help but think.

"Well, are you just going to stand there or are we actually going to fuck?" says Poppy. Rosie is taken aback from how bluntly Poppy put it. Speaking of which, the blonde girl is already half way through removing her clothes. She couldn't help the gasp that escapes her as she gawks at Poppy and the way her body looks so perfect, unblemished milky white skin that looks so soft, all Rosie could think of is leaving marks in her wake. She licks her lips in anticipation as Poppy gives her the come hither gesture, and Rosie is immediately lured in, like a moth drawn to a flame.

Her hands immediately raise up, helping Poppy out of her clothes, until all that remains is Poppy's underwear. Her eyes scan Poppy's body and out of the corner of her eye she can see Poppy's satisfied smile. Rosie is pulled in, her body pulled in flush against Poppy. Her eyes dart over to Poppy's lips as she leans in to kiss Poppy. A hand covers her mouth as she hears "Not yet Hughes, it's unfair if I'm the only one in my underwear."

Rosie's ears are definitely bright red at this point and she's pretty sure that her whole body is flushed, but she gives Poppy a show as she takes each article of clothing slowly, piece by piece as if testing Poppy's already short patience. As she takes her blouse off, Poppy's staring at her so intensely she can feel her legs wobble. The look conveying an unspoken promise. It's enough to make her a little self conscious, but her confidence is regained as soon as she sees how flushed Poppy is. It also helped that she saw Poppy gulp, looking at her like she's the only thing in the world. "See something you like, Min-Sinclair?" she can't help but tease and the blonde rolls her eyes.

"You were doing so well until you started speaking. Just get your ass over here. I'm not used to waiting for things I want." said Poppy. Rosie struts over to Poppy.

She's immediately back at Poppy's side, the Min-Sinclair heiress looking her up and down which makes Rosie nervous as the way Poppy stares is intense. Her doubts are quickly quelled as she's soon tugged harshly the collar. Poppy pulls her in roughly for a kiss, as their tongues dance and weave against each other, battling for dominance. They both step forwards towards the bed, and the noises that come out of Poppy is irresistible and music to her ears. She sounds incredible and Rosie can't get enough and with a flick of her tongue Poppy is putty in her hands.

They both fall towards the bed, Poppy ending up under Rosie. They pull away quickly to catch their breath, and Poppy's eyes are blown so much so, her pupils are dilated like a cat ready to catch its prey. Her lips parted and bruised, taking in oxygen as if all of her breath has been taken away. If Rosie thought she was in charge, she's got another thing coming. Their position is switched, as Poppy expertly flips them over, landing her on top of the other girl. Rosie ending up with her back against the bed as Poppy straddles her. "You're a good kisser, Hughes." she says and Rosie smiles mischievously "I try." she replies.

Poppy's quick to kiss Rosie again, as if she's her only lifeline teetering her to the world. Every kiss shared feels like sparks flying, the intensity and passion leaving them both breathless. It's not like Rosie's gonna give in and let Poppy top her, she quickly pull Poppy by the waist, bodies completely flushed against each other before rolling over so that their position is once again switched. This time Rosie comes out on top.

Before the other girl can complain, Rosie's quick to shut her up but trailing kisses from lips to her neck. Poppy smells like fresh cherries and vanilla, which for some reason is very fitting. After all cherries are sweet but the fruit itself can be dangerous, however there's a hint of danger. After all cherries do have cyanide in the seed. The whimpers and moans that come from Poppy's mouth are sensual and spurs Rosie on even more. She can't get enough of the blonde.

She can feel Poppy's nails taking across her back, and she's sure that those are definitely going to leave marks, not like she minds considering she's too far gone from the sound of Poppy's moans and whimpers.

Rosie looks at Poppy and she can't help but admire how beautiful Poppy looks under her, eyes half lidded and chest heaving. "You look better when you're quiet, Princess." said Rosie, but instead of reporting Poppy just pulls her back in and their lips are clashing against except this time its rough. Poppy pulling and tugging at her hair, while leaving small nibbles on her lips. Rosie knows that her lips are going to be all sorts of red and bruised the next morning.

Rosie's hand finds their way to the waistband of Poppy underwear, and she can feel the wet patch. She slides her hand inside and moves her fingers to find Poppy's clit, where she rubs small circles, and she feels the blonde jolt from the sudden contact and Rosie is about to apologise until she hears Poppy's breathy moans. "I swear to god, if you stop I'm going to fucking kill you." whimpered Poppy.

Rosie just smiles against Poppy's skin as she continues teasing Poppy until the other girl is a panting and whimpering mess. "I need your fingers inside me Hughes, stop fucking around and actually start fucking me." It's said so desperately Rosie finally grants the blonde her wish and starts pumping her fingers in and out until the blonde cums, back arched away from bed and a loud and filthy moan is all the can be heard. Rosie helps the other ride out her orgasm by cooing gentle words and leaving kisses that are definitely going to leave marks on the Poppy's unblemished skin.

-NSFW END-

-FLASHBACK END-

The casuak hook up turns into dates and outings, and both of them start to catch feelings for each other. As much as it surprises Poppy she genuinely enjoys the time that she spends with Rosie. The other girl always making sure to make Poppy smile. It doesn't help that Rosie had this weird way of knowing when Poppy was upset or stressed in which she'd always do something to help the blonde feel better. Rosie's become a constant, a home away from home in a sort. Always there even on Poppy's worse days, not giving in even when Poppy's relentlessly cruel and bitchy. If she weren't so fucking smitten Poppy would have thought that Rosie was a Saint considering how patient she is. However, she refuses to confess her feelings to the other girl first, after all she's a Min-Sinclair and they don't confess ever. People confess to her.

They're both stubborn, therefore they both refuse to even acknowledge their budding feelings for the other. Though there have been too many times where Poppy has gotten jealous when people stare too much at Rosie, though it's reserved and usually subtle. Poppy quietly stakes her claim by always having some sort of physical contact with Rosie. It could be something as simple as a hand on Rosie's forearm or wrist. But the real warning comes from her passive aggressiveness when others get too close to Rosie or the glares that are given if anyone is dumb enough to try and flirt with the other girl.

It's not like Rosie is any better. Whilst Poppy is subtle with her jealousy, Rosie is not. She's always quick hold Poppy's hand as if to signify that the blonde is hers and it's even worse if anyone ignores that. She becomes more physically affectionate. She hugs Poppy as if her life depends on it. There's also been a few times where if Rosie's patience was tested she'd get really jealous and the next time they're intimate she always leaves marks where no one but her or Poppy knows. It's also when she becomes quite dominant in the bedroom and it genuinely entertains Poppy so much so it's become her second favourite past time. The first definitely being their intimate moments.

It gets to the point where both of then get so frustrated they confess how they feel that the same time, which becomes one of their inside jokes considering they both felt like idiots for not confessing their feelings sooner.

However, it's not like summer lasts forever and both of them end up breaking it off, since Poppy actually likes Rosie and she refuses to put her through the shit that goes on in Belvoire. "It was fun while it lasted, Hughes, but I'm sorry. I have to go back and I'm not sure I'll ever see you again." said Poppy, voice cold as ice as if the whole thing didn't matter. Poppy would be lying if she said that it meant nothing, considering she's never been happier. The other girl definitely had a special place in her heart but as they say if you really live someone you have to let them go. She might be cruel but she's not about to fuck Rosie's life up by involving her in the stupidity of Belvoire, she deserves better. Maybe after unibersity she can find Rosie and they can try again.

Rosie's quite sure that she's never going to find anyone that makes her feel the way Poppy does, but she's not one to make things more complicated. "I'm glad I met you Poppy Min-Sinclair, it's been fun while it lasted. Maybe someday we can meet each other again."

Imagine her surprise when it turns out that Poppy attends Belvoire, both of them shocked to see each other again. The only difference being that Poppy seems much colder than the one she met before. Her eyes didn't have that shine or hint of mischief. It looked too detached. "What are you staring at?" said one of the girls following Poppy. Her eyes widened in surprise as the person her roommate Zoey warned her about was Poppy. She's barely acknowledged by Poppy as she just walks away without a word.

Things start to get more complicated as both of them are put against each other, as they compete for the top spot. It's not like Rosie really cared about the fucking thing, in all honesty she didn't even want to compete with Poppy but it's not like she had a choice considering no one cared that she didn't want to compete with Poppy. It gets to the point Rosie avoids Poppy altogether, not really wanting the unsolicited drama with the other girl.

It becomes even worse when rumours start that th reason why the two girls avoided each other like the plague was because Carter was cheating on Poppy with Rosie, and this gets blown out of proportion during the football game in which the screen shows a poorly photoshopped photo of Rosie and Carter kissing.

The way Poppy looked at Rosie broke her heart. Poppy looked tired and upset. She looked like she was betrayed and worse of all the look was directed at her. It's made even worse when Poppy wordlessly looks away, tears on her eyes as she runs to get away from the stadium.

Things change when Rosie chases after Poppy. It's the first time she sees Poppy cry, and it breaks her heart because how can she be so foolish. This was the person she fell for, and it sucked because she was the reason why Poppy was upset.

She approaches Poppy carefully, and as soon as she's noticed. Poppy's eyes narrow into a glare. "What do you want Hughes? Haven't you done enough already?" she yells, her voice full of venom. The words sting, but Rosie marches on, as she apologises. "I know I'm the last person you want to see, but I wanted to say I'm sorry. You didn't deserve all of that." She reaches out to try and comfort Poppy but she stops as remembers that she's the reason Poppy was crying in the first place. They both stand there in a tense silence, both not wanting to speak until they both say something at the same time. "Why didn't you tell me that you go to Belvoire?" they both say in sync.

Rosie lets Poppy speak first. "If you said that you were going to be attending Belvoire, maybe things would have been different." she says and this catches Rosie's attention. "Different how?" she asks and Poppy looks at her eyes softening as she says "I would have admitted that I was falling for you."

That's how they got back together.

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

Clubbing 101

Written by @alliswell21

Prompt 144: She has a night of fun before the start of the semester. She meets this guy, they hit it off that they sleep together. But when she shows up to her class the next day, she sees the guy again. But he’s her professor and he’s way older than she originally thought. #olderPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rating: Explicit. NSFW.

Tags and Warnings: Canon Divergence; College!AU; Age gap, older man/younger woman; The opposite to slow burn? Smut; Unprotected sex; technically impaired consent since alcohol, but their both into each other while sober too 🤷🏻‍♀️; Ethical dilemmas; Teacher/Student relationship (sort of); One Shot, with an ambiguous open ending? Almost 10K words. Unbetaed.

Notes: Thank you to the moderators once more for putting up with us, procrastinating writers. You gals are saints! Thank you to @animekpopxx for her amazing prompts that never fail to snag my attention and give me the best ideas ever! You rock! I projected this story to be a smutty short thing, but it sprouted words and a background out of nowhere and I had to forced myself to stop adding to it, to get back to my other submissions waiting in my docs. Hopefully, it’s a good read for the ones who take the chance with it.

Thank you all!

KPKPKPKPKP

It starts with a harmless ranting.

“I’m not outgoing, or fun. I’m not even ‘cool’… hell, I don’t care what my sister says, I’m too old for this place!” I tell the handsome, bearded, guy sitting in the barstool next to me, “She’s a med student, you know, but she insists that partying is part of the college experience, especially when one’s career is so demanding… plus, is the last weekend of summer break, which apparently means you’re contractually obligated to party extra hard,” I roll my eyes, “I never saw the appeal personally, but I let her drag me out here so I can keep an eye on her. Is not like I’m gonna let her piss away her future for a night of clubbing,” I scoff, taking a long pull of my beer.

The guy chuckles, but I’m not done just yet.

I slam down my bottle and continue listing my grievances, “The thing that grinds my gears, is that she begged for a ‘girls’ night out’, and instead of drinking with me and people watch, she goes off with the first fucker that asks her to dance! I mean… did it ever occur to her, I may want to dance with her on OUR girls’ night out?!” I scowl and gulp another mouthful of beer, “then, to add insult to injury, thirty minutes later I get a text from her, saying to go on home without her ‘cause she found a ride, followed by that cursed eggplant emoji, like I needed an illustration of what kind of ride she’s getting,” I mock gag, rearranging the strap of my tiny purse across my chest.

“I guess she’s young, and beautiful, and does work very hard, but if you invite me to go clubbing with you, don’t abandon me within the first 15 minutes of arriving!”

My companion winces before sipping his drink, and smiling ruefully, “That’s harsh… sorry you’re having a shitty night,”

“Meh… little sisters, right?!” I shrug.

The guy smiles crookedly at me, and I find myself enjoying his smile, “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m the baby of three brothers, and the only thing I got away with was learning how to wrestle and spring awesome comebacks on the fly… the brutes kept me on my toes,” he chuckles.

“Three boys? Sounds chaotic. Your poor mother!”

“Yeah… life’s chaotic.” He averts his eyes for a second, his smile goes away. I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, but he suddenly looks back at me, and confesses, “I’m not into clubbing either.” His eyes sparkle, despite the awful, dim, blue lights bathing the place.

I smile, “Look at us wallflowers, bonding over drinks and sibling shenanigans,” we clink our drinks together and sip. I’m chatty and relaxed, so unlike myself; I guess the two beers I’ve had are starting to get to me. “I’m Katniss, by the way.”

“That’s pretty,” he says, shyly; makes my chest warm up. “Nice to meet you, Katniss. I’m Peeta.”

I arch my eyebrows, “Peter?” I repeat, because I’m pretty sure I miss-heard him over the obnoxiously loud music.

The guy shakes his head, “Pee-ta… like the bread?” He chuckles. Then adds, “Family name. Everyone on my dad’s side are bakers.”

I snort-laugh, “Punny!” I say, taking another sip. Yup, beer’s getting to me, I’m not this cleverly funny. “My dad was into survivalism and botany… I’m named after a plant also known as Duck Potato, so I win the weird name competition!”

“Hey, it’s something else to bond over,”

“Cheers to that!” We clink our drinks again, and partake in our booze.

He orders another whiskey neat when he’s out… sounds both snooty and distinguished at the same time. Goes well with his put together image, though: nicely trimmed beard, nicely combed hair, nice polo shirt with what I believe is a tiny loaf of bread embroidered on the chest, and dark-wash jeans… I think. It’s hard to tell under the black lights of the club.

He offers to get me another drink, and I order an appletini.

“J.D. from Scrubs always drank one,” I explain, swirling the coctel in my hand, “I’ve always been curious to try, but didn’t wanna spend my own money experimenting on a drink I could potentially hate.”

“Makes sense,” Peeta says, “So… what’s the verdict?”

“Is pretty good, actually. But I think I’ll stick with my Miller Light,”

Peeta nods, “I honestly don’t enjoy alcohol that much.”

I giggle. “Then, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight, sir, if you’re not much for clubbing, or drinking?” I watch him out of the corner of my eye.

I like that when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I lost a bet against a colleague.”

“Oh,” I’m suddenly self conscious and a little uncomfortable. I give the guy a scrutinizing look, and ask suspiciously, “what was the punishment exactly?”

The man rolls his eyes. “I have to spend one whole hour in the club, without criticizing anything, like the bitter old man I am,” he grins, “My friend’s words. Not mine!” He raises both hands, claiming innocence.

I laugh at the face he pulls, “Well, you’ve just defaulted on that punishment,”

“How so?” He beams.

“With the look in your face! It spoke volumes!”

“Am I that transparent?”

“You read like a preschooler’s board book, pal!”

We both laugh, I drink my beer, and he throws back his whiskey neat.

“So…” he makes a show of looking at his watch, “I still have 33 minutes to kill before I’m allowed to run out of this place… I know I’m not a Med student, co-Ed, sister of yours, but… would you, um, like to dance with me?” He sounds adorably hopeful.

I glance at the man sideways, toying with my bottle.

He smirks, mischievously, “I promise, spirits make me more coordinated on the dance floor. I become this amazing dancer when I have a couple of drinks on… or so my brain believes. I probably look like an idiot, but I’m too goofy to know the difference. You’re welcome to be the judge it for yourself,”

I take my sweet time finishing the last dregs of my beer, and wrinkle my nose, “You sure you wanna dance to this shit, kids call music nowadays?” I smirk, pointing a finger up, motioning wide circles into the ether.

Peeta gives a full belly laugh.

I really do like his laugh!

“Isn’t it our only choice?” He ventures.

Not if you follow me home, my thirsty brain supplies; my lips on the other hand, just let through a hint of a smile, because I’m buzzed, but not drunk enough to proposition a total stranger. I’ve never been one to sleep around anyway.

“Okay,” I say, too enthused. “As long as we both agree that this isn’t music,”

“Oh no, this just barely passes as noise!” Peeta agrees readily.

He guides me to the packed dance floor, and we start moving to the booming, deafening tunes playing overhead.

I’m not sure if one could call this dancing. Everywhere I look people are writhing against each other, like a pack of zombies without grace or rhyme.

I’m not sure Peeta will get an accurate assessment of his dancing skills, compared to what I’m seeing, he’ll probably look like a professional; plus, it’s too dark and busy in here to really appreciate anything, really, but after a few minutes of just shifting in place, robotically, I snatch two bottle beers from a waitress walking by, offering one to my partner, hoping that’s enough to get us loosen up. The waitress stares at me until I rummage on my crossbody mini purse and toss a crumple ten on her tray.

The liquid boost works. Before I know it, I’m grinding my hips against his. Peeta’s just the right height for his thigh to fit between my legs and brush against my front. I get tired of undulating my arms in the air, so I drop them around his shoulders, and feel just how firm and broad he is under my touch.

Our chests are tightly pressed together, and I’m at the right angle to just stare at his plush-looking lips. I turn around before I do something brash, like kiss him in the mouth. Peeta doesn’t question it, he just places his hands on my hips, and starts moving to the music’s beat.

I bring the beer to my lips, but the bottle’s empty… oops! It doesn’t matter, I’m having the time of my life!

Peeta’s swaying guides me. I basically drape my back over his front, and bump my ass into his groin. I feel the hint of a bulge there, and press my rear into it again, just to confirm if I felt what I hope I felt.

Peeta’s fingers tighten on my hip, emboldening me to keep going until I’m practically twerking into him, and his slight bulge morphs into a full blown hard-on.

I twist in his arms to face him, my lust idled brain barely thinking rationally, “Are your 33 minutes done yet?” I yell into his ear, so he can hear me over the noise.

He doesn’t even look at his watch, “To hell with time! I‘ll stay here all night, if you want me to,” He answers loudly.

“Come on, then!” I push off his chest, and snatch up his hand before he can reply.

Leaving the dance floor is surprisingly easily, considering the crowd bouncing in place together.

I make no conscious plan on where we’re going; I’m arguably familiar with the layout of this place from my many visits since Prim turned 21; I’m only mildly surprised when we navigate across the club, all the way to the restrooms. It’s like my clit is making all the decisions tonight… good for it!

There’s a line of disgruntled women waiting to get inside the Ladies Room, but the Men’s Room is available, and Peeta lets me guide him into it, like one of those pull toys children have.

“It stinks in here,” I comment blandly, but make a beeline for the last stall with a door.

There’s one guy at the urinal, but he doesn’t even look up from his pants, so I just shrug it off and yank Peeta into the stall with me.

The space is tight, but once inside the stall, I push Peeta into the door, and attack his mouth.

He makes a startled noise at the back of his throat, but his hands and arms immediately press me into his body more fully. My own hands trek down to his belt, where I fiddle with the buckle until it’s undone, and I can access his pants’ button and fly.

He hisses when my fingers graze his warm erection, and bucks into my knuckles. I’m in the process of sticking my hand inside his boxers, when Peeta growls, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, and letting it go with a wet pop.

“Switch places,” he pants against my mouth, and hoists me up, until my back hits the door and his hands grab my hips possessively, jutting my pelvis forward, “I’m hungry, would you mind if I eat you out?”

“Okay,” I gasp.

Thank you for forcing me to wear your tiny, clubbing dress, Prim!

“You’ll allow it?” He asks, incredulous, rubbing circles on my hips with his thumbs.

“Yes… I’ll allow it!”

His smile is sexy, his stare is hypnotic. Damned my drunken ass! I can’t believe I’m willing to do this in a smelly bathroom stall!

Peeta sits on the toilet and licks his lips while staring up at me. His hands disappear under the stretchy material of my skirt, bumping my purse out of his way. He skims his fingers under the elastic of my panties, and I bite my lip, nodding eagerly.

Slowly, Peeta slides my underwear down my legs, the tips of his fingers follow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced!

Once he brings my panties to my knees, his hands rush back up my thighs, pushing the flimsy skirt around my waist. My underwear drops to my ankles on their own.

Peeta’s level eye with my crotch, and I squirm restlessly. “Beautiful… absolutely soaked,” he whispers in a daze, he inhales pulling me closer, “You smell divine!” He descends, nose first, into the thatch of dark curls between my thighs, making me moan. He ruts his face against me, and suddenly drops to his knees, grabbing my calf to pull my leg up.

But the movement gets prevented by my stupid underwear, tangled in my ankles. Without missing a beat, I toe my panties off, so Peeta can maneuver my body however he wants.

He drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me up to his ravenous mouth. He grunts, burying his face into my core, and finally, FINALLY, his tongue swipes between my folds.

“Fuck!” I squeak.

My hands fly to tangle into his soft, perfectly coiffed hair. I nearly smother him, holding his face to my pussy, but he’s doing wicked things to me with his tongue: lapping, sucking, and nipping at my labia; drawing number eight figures around my clit with the tip of his tongue, to then sinking it deep inside my core. I can’t stop bucking into his mouth over and over.

When was the last time I was given head? Fuck if I know! Darius probably, he was decent, but didn’t do it often. And Thom was so boring at it, I actually preferred he didn’t do it. But this guy is amazing! A real expert in the matter!

“I’m so close! Please… I’m so close,” I wail like a cat in heat, writhing against the door.

Peeta looks up, and despite the horrendous lighting in the room, I realize he’s got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen… too bad I can’t hold his gaze too long, because he starts rubbing my clit with his thumb, while fucking my hole with his tongue, and is all I can do not shout and scalp him in my delirium.

He doesn’t stop drinking my juices while I convulse above him. On the contrary, he retrieves his thumb, but keeps his mouth busy, lapping away all the slick I give him.

It’s too much.

I tug on his hair to pull him off of my sensitive privates.

Peeta takes one last lick with the flat of his tongue and looks up at me, smiling wolfishly, “Was that good?” His beard’s dripping with me, he wipes some of it off on his sleeve.

I snort, unsexy and definitely rude. “You made me cum so hard I saw stars… yeah, it was good. Better than good, really!” I smile down at him, and try to pull him off from the floor.

All the gel holding his curls in place is gone now, rubbed off on my palms. His hair is sticking up on the top and towards the back of his head. I reach up to try and smooth it back, “I’m sorry, I seem to have made a mess of your hair,” I giggle. It’s adorable, but I feel bad that I ruined it.

“You can mess my hair any time you want, Katniss.” He says, almost shyly, he places his hands on my waist, over the bunched up dress.

It’s a big turn on to me, how his words are so flirty, but he delivers them so sweetly and awed. Is unexpected and endearing… which is odd, because I don’t usually find people endearing at all!

We both chuckle.

He licks his lips, and I feel heat pool in my lower belly again.

“Come’ere!” I wrap my hand around his nape, and pull his lips to mine.

He responds immediately, licking the seam of my mouth. I suck on his tongue when he slides it against mine.

He moans.

“Fuck me, Peeta,” I rasp into the kiss, palming his dick through his jeans.

He groans, “Are you sure?” He barely holds back another groan when I squeeze his clothed erection.

“Cock. In me. Now!” I command through gritted teeth, trying to pull his cock out of his pants with one hand, while taking his hand, and splaying it on my boob.

“Okay… shit… this is… surreal! This has never happened to me before!” He kneads my tit, gently.

I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t and turn, facing the door to wiggle my ass, in an attempt to convince him.

Peeta makes a noise in his throat, quickly followed by the sound of shifting clothes, and a metallic thump from his belt buckle hitting the toilet.

I whine when Peeta’s warm, heavy cock caressed my bare ass cheek. “Please don’t tease me,” I beg.

“Fuck, Katniss… do you really want this?”

“Yes, Peeta… put your cock inside my cunt, and fuck me all the way to next week! Now!”

His warm body cocoons mine, “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, and I feel the blunt head of his cock parting my folds, coating himself with my natural lubricants.

He finds my entrance, pushing inside just the tip. He gasps, “Fuck!” One big hand wraps around my hip to keep me steady, bracing his other arm on the door, above my head.

“Peeta… Please!” I wiggle my ass, making him sink another inch deep.

“Hold still,” He hisses, “I’m trying to hold back… not ramming in too roughly… embarrassing myself, cumming too fast,” His hot breath warms my nape. “You feel like heaven!” He growls, tightening his hold on me.

I’m torn, wishing he’d drill into me without mercy already, while another part of me is grateful he’s trying to stay under control… I don’t know which I want more…

When was the last time I had sex?

As if reading my thoughts, Peeta shares haltingly, “It’s been such a long time for me. I want it to last, but I’m

Not sure if I can,”

I don’t have time to second guess myself, because Peeta’s moving, and he’s massive!

“Don’t hold back!” I bleat, “I want it rough… I want it fast!” I gasp, clenching down on him. I paw at the door for purchase, trying not to face-plant on the cold, hard surface, while Peeta’s fat prick stretches me to the brink of pain! I can’t stay put for him any longer; I buck into him.

“I said to hold still!” He slaps my ass, hard. It stings, but it’s a welcomed feeling.

I moan and melt, finally relaxing enough for him to penetrate me all the way to the hilt. He stays there a moment, breathing harshly into my neck, squeezing my hip on and off.

“You’re so tight. So warm. So wet, Katniss.” He nuzzles my ear, “I’m gonna move now, I apologize beforehand in case this ends too soon for you…” He drags himself slowly out of me, just to plunge right back in with a swift, hard thrust.

I squeak; he grunts..

Peeta holds me by the waist, “You’re so pretty and sexy, Katniss. I can’t decide if you’re real, or the most vivid wet dream I’ve ever had…” he’s fucking me like a jackrabbit in rut.

I’m speechless, vaguely wondering if I didn’t dream him instead?

His cock head hits a spot deep inside me I’ve never reached before. I start babbling nonsense— mostly praising his cock and his strength— I don’t really know what I’m saying, but he seems to be enjoying it thoroughly by the increase in his speed and the volume of his grunts.

I’m joisted up and down his shaft like a rag doll; I wish I’d thought of hanging my stupid little purse somewhere before we started, because now it’s bumping on my thighs, distracting me from the great ducking I’m getting; it’s no matter… I can feel my orgasm building in my belly.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart… I want you to cum too,” He nibbles on my earlobe.

“Yes, Peeta! Please make me cum, I’m so close!”

One of his hands slides around my waist to play with my clit, while his other tweaks my nipples over my dress and bra. That, added to the sensation of my g-spot being prodded repeatedly, sends me spinning over the edge.

I must’ve screamed or something, because he clamps his hand over my mouth, and then he’s grunting, digging his forehead between my shoulder blades, and pulling me back against his unyielding body.

“Fuck…” he gasps and shivers behind me. I feel his dick pulsing, his rhythm faltering, and then he goes still.

Peeta sags a little, wedging his shoulder into the door to keep from falling. I’m surprised he still has the strength to hold me up too; I have to be dead weight at this point, since my legs feel like overcooked noodles and my arms gave out a minute ago.

We both try to catch our breaths, too spent and weak for much more, at least for a few minutes.

Peeta stirs. “Are you okay?” He breathes out, ruffling the loose wisps of my hair with his breath.

I chuckle, leaning my sweaty temple on the cool door. “I can’t feel my toes… which is excellent!”

“Good,” he sighs.

Three heart beats later, he straightens up and pulls out of me. An indecent amount of spend flows down my legs as soon as his cock dislodges from my pussy, but Peeta shoves something soft between my thighs quickly, before I have time to freak out about the mess.

I look down mildly curious, staring at an embroidery of a tiny loaf of bread. Vaguely, I wonder if that’s his uniform? He said he was a baker, right? At least he’s named after bread or something. I giggle. “Is this your shirt?” I ask, widening my stance to gracelessly wipe myself clean.

“Yeah,”

“Thank you,” I say, dazedly, turning sideways to smile at him gratefully.

He’s wearing a simple, white, cotton t-shirt when I return the polo to him, now spoiled with cum and slick. I’m caught off guard by how broad shoulder he is, and by how nice he smells… cinnamon and sweat. Weird combination, but pleasant. I wonder if he baked any bread today?

“Um… would you… would you like to put these back on?” He asks awkwardly, leaning down to pick up my discarded panties from besides the foot of the toilet bowl.

I wrinkle my nose, “Not really,” I mumble. “Who knows when was the last time that floor got cleaned. Gross.”

Peeta smiles and shakes his head, “Here,” he grabs his polo, covered in our juices, and wraps my underwear in it. “Now it’s hidden.”

My body is finally catching up with the advanced hour, the beers and the two amazing orgasms. I’m starting to feel sore everywhere, and my eyelids are getting heavy. “Wow… think I’m officially all partied out,” I chuckle weakly.

“Ditto,” Peeta agrees, his smile is shy. “So… there’s this little dinner about two blocks from here,” he starts, eyes downcast; the space seems to shrink around us, now that the frenzy of our physical activities is done with. “Would you like to grab a pancake or som—“

My phone rings, startling us both into silence. I frown, but scramble to find it in my purse, to check who could be calling me… apparently at 2 a.m.!

My frown deepens. Prim’s smiling face flashes on the screen. She was supposed to be getting some herself! “It’s my sister,” I whisper, tamping down my rising panic. I don’t ask if it’s okay to answer, I just do it. “Prim?”

“Where the hell are you?!” I have to pull the phone off, or risk eardrum rupture by my sister’s screeching. “I’ve been texting and calling you! I’ve been worried sick!”

I scowl at the wall, confused and little annoyed, “Prim… Prim, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you somewhere?” I try to ask.

“What?! No. I’m home! But you aren’t, and I’ve been scared shitless trying to find you!”

I give Peeta an apologetic grimace, and blindly feel around for the lock to get out of the stall. “Um… why are you home so early? Last time I heard from you, you were getting a ride,” I’m trying to sound unaffected; It’s all I can think to say in my mortification.

“Never mind that! Why aren’t you home already? I thought you had to work in the morning and then go to sch—”

While Prim rages at me, I place a hand on the phone and turn to Peeta, still in the stall, awkwardly facing the wall, I assume to grant me some privacy. I’m sure he can hear my sister’s frantic chastisement from where he’s standing. “I’m sorry… you’d think I was a teenager instead of a grown ass adult,” I roll my eyes.

Peeta waves me off good naturedly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for keeping you so late,”

I’m about to say something else, but Prim yells loudly, something about calling the police and checking the hospitals for me, which truly prompts a reaction from me, “Calm down! I’m still at the club, exactly where you left me!” I cover the phone with my palm again, and turn to him. “I’m… I’m gonna go? Before she threatens to send the marines in,” I try to joke, but our situation takes all the levity out of it, and my attempt dies off, lamely.

Peeta nods, smiling softly; somehow I can tell it’s not genuine.

“Little sisters, right?” I offer halfheartedly, twisting my lips.

“Can I… walk you out at least?” He asks quietly; Prim hasn’t stopped nagging this whole time.

“I… it’s not necessary, but thank you…”

Peeta nods again, looking disappointed.

I don’t get to tell him a proper goodbye, because two dude-bros come in the bathroom, letting the noise from the club filter in; one of the idiots elbows the other, and both start making some lewd comments about me, but Peeta steps in, eyes wild with anger, and tells the guys to knock it off. Prim hears the whole thing of course, and goes nuts herself asking what’s going on?

Peeta looks at me, and motions his head towards the door.

Message received, I step outside the bathroom and book it out of the club, “I’ll be home in a bit. I’m gonna call and Uber,”

“Call me as soon as you’re in it!” Prim demands.

“Fine! Now stop nagging me, will you?!”

I don’t realize I never looked back at Peeta to wave my goodbyes until I’m in the car, heading home. Regret truly is a bitch. I can’t help feeling like I just lost something important, but I have no idea what it is.

>>—————> * <————<<

It’s been a very long Monday. I’m mainly running on caffeine at the moment, and can’t wait to get home and pass out in my fluffy bed, to see if I can catch up on last nights lost hours of sleep.

I enter my last class of the day and find a seat in the middle of the third row. I pull my laptop, a writing pad and my mechanical pencil out of my bag, and watch as my classmates start filtering in one by one, greeting each other and finding their places, lazily.

I’m the oldest student in this class, which is not surprising. I’ve only just come back from my extended— 5 year— sabbatical; and did it only after I was completely sure I could handle my workload and the financial strain of both me and Prim going to college at the same time, without giving myself an early grave.

It’s been hard, but I’m glad I came back to finish my schooling, I only need a handful of credits to graduate, which is great!

I check my watch. We still have a few minutes to kill before class starts. The professor— Dr. Mellark, according to the copy of my schedule— is not here yet, so I pull up the banking app on my phone to give it another glance. The balance is still the same as the last two times I’ve seen it, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful when one is on a tight budget. I scheduled payments for the power, gas and rent to go out in the next few days, and I want to make sure there’s enough money in the bank to cover them. We’re looking fine for the month, financially speaking.

The door to the classroom swishes open, and I start signing off my app.

“Good afternoon ladies and germs; I’m doctor Mellark, and provided you’re in this room for an English class, I’ll like to welcome you to the amazing world of Classic Literature!” Says a deep, male voice I find oddly familiar. “By the way, don’t any of you dare to disagree with me on the awesomeness of classic lit… I’m a doctor, I know what I’m talking about… unless you ask me about medicine, then please be free to disregard everything I say, because I’m not ‘that’ kind of doctor!”

A murmure of little chuckles fills the room; even I smile, silencing my phone and putting it away, before looking up at the professor.

I choke on a strangled gasp when I finally set eyes on the man I assume is the teacher, dumping a worn, leather, messenger bag on the desk near the podium. He’s the last person I would’ve expected to have as a professor.

Oblivious to my predicament, Doctor Mellark— or as I know him: Peeta!— keeps introducing himself.

“I’ve been teaching this course for 14th years, but I’m always pleasantly surprised to hear the different points of views my students bring to our discussions on the classics we study, which in a nutshell, is the beauty of this class.” He pulls a ream of paper out of his bag, and gives it to a student in the front, “Please take a syllabus, and pass the rest to the next person, and so on… thank you!”

My face is burning. I think I’m gonna faint.

“But enough about me,” his voice booms, making my whole body shiver. “I don’t normally do roll calls or care about attendance, as long as you’re not missing assignments, and are here during discussions, so this is the first and last time I’ll be reading this list,” he rises a piece of paper above his head, I surmise has the students names on it, and he instructs, before reading, “I’ll call your names, and you’ll introduce yourself, briefly, that way we can all get acquainted with each other, yes?”

Ugh!

He can scratch my name off that list right now! We’re more than acquainted with each other.

Bile rises to my throat. An intrusive, bitter thought pesters me: how many of his students has he gotten ‘that’ familiar with?

But the thought dies off quickly. An even worse, more worrisome thought springs front and center in my mind: Did we use protection?!

Panic rises in my chest, a nervous queasiness settles in my belly; a distant memory of warm goo sliding down my legs comes to mind… Oh shit!

Oh shit, oh shit! We didn’t use a freaking condom? Who does that?!

Oh shit!

Would a Plan B still be effective right now? It’s been less than 24 hours…

Peeta’s reading names. People stand from their seats and talk about themselves. I haven’t heard one word they’ve said, but I’ve been watching how some of the female students bat their eyelashes and speak all breathily, smiling coyly at him… Peeta seems oblivious to the flirting, but I still feel a cocktail of unpleasant feelings in the pit of my stomach.

I realize, I’m jealous!

My ass is frozen in my sit, I’m not even breathing. I don’t think Peeta’s seen me yet, but… what will he do or say once my name comes up? I send a quick prayer to heaven, he won’t recognize me since I look nothing like I did last night at the club, with my hair down and my face all made-up. Right now and plain ol’ me… the rub is gonna be my name. Darn my dad and his awful naming whims!

Soon enough, he reads a name that makes him stutter, “Kat…Katniss? Everdeen?” He does a double take, “Katniss Everdeen…” his eyes are the size of saucers when he scans the lecture hall, swiftly. When he finds me, he looks back down at his paper, and says the name out loud again, unsure, “Katniss Everdeen?” Like he doesn’t believe what he’s reading.

I stand up woodenly, my voice cracks a little, “I’m—I’m Katniss Everdeen… hi!”

I’m about to drop back into my chair, but Peeta kinda mumbles, “You know, Arrowhead, or Katniss is a water plant? The root is edible… like a swamp potato?”

There are quiet little giggles all over the place.

Peeta clears his throat, his eyes flit away; his face’s blank of emotion, but his cheeks seem pinker than a second earlier, “I just read that online, believe it or not. Interesting facts about local flora, people. Reading is knowledge, but so is learning from one another… what can you tell us about yourself, Miss Everdeen, besides that you have a very unique first name?”

“I…” I harrumph, avoiding eye contact with Peeta at all costs, “I’m a part time student. Majoring in Botany. I took this class to fulfill my last English credits requirement for graduation. I do love books and classic literature, in particular.”

“Thank you… Miss Everdeen,” he rasps.

I sit down, clumsily, hoping this horrible, horrible moment is just a nightmare and that I’ll wake up any second now, drooling on my desk, with indentations of my notepad on my cheek, because anything would be less embarrassing than what I’m going through at this point.

Mercifully, Peeta calls a different name, and then another, and then another. I don’t look up from my notepad once.

Peeta for his part, sounds stiff and monotonous— or so I’d like to think— no more jokes or clever sayings. Maybe he’s not as affected as I am about this ordeal, and I’m just making it a bigger deal than it really is? Maybe he does have experience sleeping with students— I mean, it’s not unheard off, right?— Not that either of us had any idea we were engaging in a teacher-student affair last night…

Although, calling it an affair is generous; it was a measly one night stand. A chance encounter. Two people letting off steam before a busy week ahead.

I’m getting increasingly angry with all this thinking… and the class seems to drag on. It feels like an eternity, and my mind keeps churning up all kinds of questions: Why would he not say he was a teacher at this particular college? Did he lie about being a baker? Is his name even Peeta?

I scoffed at the thought.

To my horror, I hear him ask, “Anything to say, Miss Everdeen?”

Looking up at him requires a great deal of bravery and self admonishment, but I do my best and face him— he’s wearing glasses now, which makes my belly tightened for inexplicable reasons— “No, Doctor Mellark, nothing of consequence anyway,” I retort as venemosly as possible, without alerting anyone else there’s something weird going on between me and the professor.

Peeta grimaces slightly. Then looks away, “Very well, as I was saying, we will start with the basics: The Iliad and Moby Dick, since those are High school level works, I expect your reports to be sufficiently well researched, and your personal ideas on the text somewhat fleshed out. It doesn’t have to be in-depth. I’m just looking to determine everyone’s style and needs for the semester ahead…” he continues his spiel, and I feel free to go back to my stewing and my musings.

Before I know it, Peeta’s dismissing the class, wishing everyone a good rest of their evening.

I jump into action, packing my stuff with my head bowed, but then I hear him again.

“Miss Everdeen, a private word, please?” It’s much too quiet to have been said from his podium. I still startled when I look up and find him standing right against the first row of desks, directly in front of me.

His face is not quite stern, but he’s definitely less smiley than when we met.

I force down a gasp, because under the better lighting of the lecture hall, and close up, I can see a plethora of details I missed at the club; like the arresting blue of his eyes, the slight reddish of his neatly trimmed beard, peppered with silver whiskers all over, while his perfectly combed hair is almost all silver on the temples, and ashy blonde on the top. His shoulders are even broader than I remember.

He’s overall stockier than I originally thought, and just a smidge shorter, which is fine, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree—

I shake my head off the intrusive, lecheros thoughts. I’m literally lusting after my teacher, for goodness sakes! This is beyond a silly schoolgirl crush!

Peeta arches one dark blonde eyebrow at me, expectantly.

I nod curtly, because my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and gesture for him to lead the way.

I shove my laptop into my bag, and hastily shoulder the straps, hugging my writing pad to my chest, following my professor like a chastened little girl.

My stupid eyes find his ass, and I blink twice, at the exquisite sight in front of me. I groan internally.

He grabs his own bag, takes off his spectacles and slides them into his shirt pocket.

How old is this man?! He said he’s been teaching this class for 14 years, when do professors start their teaching careers? How did I never see him before now roaming campus? Is his age the reason he ate pussy like a master?

I shake my head, cursing my horny brain.

Peeta opens a door I have no idea how we came across, and then stands aside, gesturing for me to go in first.

I duck my head and step into a warmly decorated office, with a small desk and two chairs in the middle of the room. Bookshelves full of tomes line the office. A handful of pictures and framed diplomas hang from the only available wall space in the room, but I don’t get to study them before he catches my undivided attention.

“Let me start by apologizing,” Peeta stars, closing the door behind himself, “I assure you, it wasn’t my intention to cause you any stress, or embarrassment out there.” He pauses, “Would you like to sit?” He offers, wincing. He doesn’t wait and steps around me, to pace on the other side of his desk, “I… um, never been in this position before,” he scowls, “I’m not sure what assurances I can offer at the moment, except, that I will start the process to recuse myself from this class immediately, to not interfere with your academic—“

“Recuse yourself?” I cut him off, “what do you mean?”

Peeta squirms a little, and sits down heavily on his chair. My bag slides off my shoulder, and I just dump it in the empty chair I was offered a moment ago.

“Well, Miss Everdeen, it’s the right thing to do, given our circumstances. We’ve breached the appropriate boundaries of our pupil and teacher positions, and staying in the same class together will put you at a disadvantage… is a power imbalance situation, that calls for action.”

“Can you stop calling me ‘Miss Everdeen’? It’s weird…”

“I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of decorum between us,” he says sheepishly.

“That ship has already sailed,” I say tiredly.

“Perhaps, but it’s my responsibility to still try,” he rubs his forehead. “Anyway, I’ll call my department and see what is next. Stepping down myself is the only fair solution I see so far… it would be terribly unfair to ask you to switch classes. Simply disrespectful, but we both can agree this uncomfortable situation needs to be nipped in the bud, for both our sakes, Miss Everdeen.”

“This is bullshit!” I snap, “What happened in that club, isn’t that terrible of a problem! What we really need to do is stop acting so stiffly and guilty. By the way, you sound like a walking thesaurus!” I accuse, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he called my name at the lecture hall. “Stop it!”

Peeta inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss Everdeen, our actions last night may have been honest, and even innocent in nature, but they still carry consequences… unexpected ones, especially in light of the facts. And the facts are, that it would be unethical for me to remain in a position of authority over you. In any case… if you feel the need to report me to the school administration, for… harassment or inappropriate behavior or anything else, I won’t dispute any claims. I promise to distance myself from you and give you space so you can continue with your education without interference, in a safe environment.”

I grunt, “I’m not going to report you, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, I thought you were a baker… I mean your story about your name, and that little loaf of bread embroidered into your shirt, I thought it was your uniform,” I shrug one shoulder.

“Sorry about that… I never meant to mislead you,” he says bashful.

I ignore him, “Either way, I was the one pulling you into that bathroom. I threw myself at you. I begged you to do things to me, and you just granted me my wishes…” like a sexy gentleman, “The sex is on me. I’m 26 years old, I’m not some bumbling teenager who hasn’t learned to take responsibility for her actions, so, please… stop trying to shield me, or protect me, or whatever it is you’re doing,” my arms flap around in frustration. I finally push my bag off the chair, and sink into it. “Look, Peeta—“

“Professor…” he corrects, frowning a little.

I roll my eyes, if he knew he’s just making it sound kinkier than it already is, he wouldn’t be so adamant about the freaking titles.

“Fine… Doctor Mellark,” I enunciate, pettily. “I specifically chose your class as my last English elective for two reasons. One: it’s exactly the amount of credits I need to graduate at the end of the semester. And two: it fits my schedule to a T, which is important, since I do have a full time job when I’m not a college student. So, I’m sure we can both be adults about this unfortunate situation, and simply forge on. There’s no need for you to recuse from teaching this class, and I have absolutely no intention of switching. We both can wear our big people britches, and pretend last night was a… what did you call it?” I wave my hands, as if the answer will materialize from thin air, “A vivid wet dream? And leave it at that!”

Peeta glares at me, looking aggravated for the first time since I met him. “It’ll be unethical to continue like everything is normal, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta argues, stubbornly.

“Nobody has to know about last night,” I say, exasperated, then a horrifying thought flashes in my mind, “Unless you bragged about it already!”

“No!” He straightens in his chair, looking offended, “I would never do something so vile,” He looks indignant, “plus, the fact still remains that something did happen last night, and I know about it! I can’t, in good faith, be your teacher.”

“Are you planning on showing me favoritism because you know what my pussy tastes like, Peeta?” I deadpan, “Or are you gonna blackmail me into doing it again?”

“Stop calling me Peeta!” He growls through his teeth, his very thick fingers clenching into fists on his armrests.

I blink at his reaction owlishly, realizing I’m truly pushing it this time.

“I’ve always prided myself on keeping my nose clean. Being a decent man and tutor. Never in 17 years of teaching have I slept with a co-ed, let alone a student in my own class.” He breathes deeply, then pins me to my chair, with those arresting blue eyes of his, burning with controlled anger, “I would never extort you or anyone for sexual favors, Katniss. While I don’t really want to lose my tenure or face other disciplinary actions from the school authorities, the one thing I truly don’t want to damage are my personal standards, and my self image.

“Katniss, I’m already biased when it comes to you. Being your professor won’t be exactly fair to anyone. I’m not saying I would give you A’s willy-nilly, nor that I would grade your papers any differently than I’d do your peers or that I’d be less critical of your work,”

“That’s reassuring,” I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that if I bring you a shit essay, you might not be persuaded to let me redo it?”

He sighs, “I don’t know…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I’ll most likely hover over your desk a disproportionate amount of time compared to your classmates. There’s also a chance I’ll call on your name more often than the rest of them?”

“I still don’t hear one unscrupulous, wrong reason, why you can’t do your job, and teach this class.”

We sit there, staring at each other, at an impasse.

“Why are you so set on keeping me in that room, Miss Everdeen?” He asks, softly.

Finally, I relent, relaxing my tense shoulders, and exhaling tiredly. I raise my hands in defeat. “I don’t know, Peeta. Because I want to protect you, the same way you’re trying to protect me. But… recuse yourself if you have to. I still believe you’re a better man than your urges.”

Peeta relaxes in his chair too, “Thank you, Katniss.You didn’t have to say that, specially because you don’t know me. It still means a lot.”

I chew the inside of my lip, calculating stuff in my head. “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I consider myself an okay judge of character.” He opened this door, it’s time for me to walk through it, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I ask innocently.

Peeta arches his eyebrows. “Shoot,” he says.

“How old are you?”

“45. I’m sorry. I knew you were young last night… I just didn’t quite grasp just how young,” his eyes shift downwards, sheepish and uncomfortable.

“I’m an adult. I’ve been the head of my family for years. At this point, age is irrelevant for me.” I state, dismissively.

“What about your family?” He asks, tilting his head sideways.

It takes me a minute to answer. I cross my arms over my stomach, and exhale, “It’s been only Primrose and I for five years now. My mother had cancer. My father passed when I was eleven.” I rock in my chair, slightly, “That’s why my sister was being such a clingy bitch last night. She can’t bear to lose anyone else. Neither can I for that matter.”

Peeta leans forward on his desk. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Katniss.”

I sit back, feeling like a huge weight just got lifted off my shoulders. “It’s okay, really. I’m back in school, about to finish my last semester, Prim is doing great in university, the only debt we have right now is Prim’s car and my Target card… we are actually okay,” I smile, meekly at him.

“That’s… that’s good, Katniss. Admirable, really.”

“Peeta?” I start cautiously, “Would you really remove yourself from the class because of me?”

He looks me right in the eye, sincerity emanating fro his eyes. “Absolutely. Without hesitation. As soon as you leave, I’ll email my Head of Department, explaining my situation. Don’t worry, I won’t mention any names or details—“

I shake my head, vehemently.

Peeta squints, studying me cautiously, measuring me.

“Please… stay with me…”

Something in my tone catches his attention, and he eyes me curiously. “I’ve already told you why I can’t,” he says, almost soothingly.

I stand up. Go around my chair, and drop back down into it. I start shaking my leg nervously. “I had this feeling in my gut since last night. Like I lost something precious, I just couldn’t put a finger on it… I still can’t, to be honest. All I know, in my loins, is that I can’t let you step down from your position, and I sure as hell won’t walk away on you without figuring out what this…” I wiggle my fingers, pointing to the mouth of my stomach, “feeling is about.”

He stares at me.

I stand up again, and this time I just pace, to the wall with the pictures, and stare at a bunch of faces, too similar to Peeta’s not to be related to him somehow.

“I know I’m not making sense, but I just needed to say that.”

He watches me for a long beat, weighing his options no doubt, before answering, “I can’t be your teacher, Katniss…” he sighs, and rubs his forehead, “because I’m afraid seeing you every week, without being able to touch you will be absolute torture.”

“Really?” I bite my lip, giving him an open once over, not feeling one iota self conscious about. “How come?”

Peeta huffs, avoiding my eyes. “I’d be wondering what your breasts look like the whole time.” He confesses, flatly. “I didn’t get a chance to see them last night, and it kept me awake an indecent amount of time.” He twists his lips, “I’m gonna be pinning the whole semester, whether you’re in the classroom or not, craving the taste of your juices in my tongue, and worse of all, I’ll probably embarrass myself, giving me involuntary hard on’s just fantasizing about you.”

I practically prowl towards him. “You poor thing,” I coo, pouting. “Would you go home to masturbate on the soiled pair of panties I left behind on that dirty, bathroom floor?” I ask… more like, purr, really.

Peeta chuffs out an incredulous laugh, covering his face with both hands. He grunts, “Aw, fuck! That sounds so… it’s probably exactly what could happen. I’d try to stay professional in the classroom, but in the privacy of my home…” he chuckles weakly, shaking his head.

“What kind of fantasies are we entertaining here?” I ask, invested, and sit on the corner of his desk.

Peeta thins out his mouth, “Katniss… that’s a slippery slope you’re trying to climb,” he warns.

“Humor me?” I cajole.

He takes a stuttering breath. “I’ll bring you into this office, same way I did today, except I’ll rip your clothes off, throw you on the desk and take you hard and fast. From behind.”

I can’t stop a small sound at the back of my throat, nor the need to rub my thighs together.

I clear my throat, “I expect you’d want to fuck me on every surface in this office?”

Peeta pulls on the collar of his shirt, his face turning crimson, “And probably the lecture hall as well,” he adds conversationally.

I nod, scooting closer to where he sits. “I’m curious too you know. I didn’t get to see ‘any’ part of you naked. But my muscles still are deliciously sore from last night. A girl has to wonder… just how big a dick has to be to cause so much wreckage?”

It doesn’t take much effort at all to work him up. Peeta’s pants are tented in what looks like the most uncomfortable erection ever; he shifts in his chair to try and hide the effect my words have on him, yet, his hands remain folded on his lap, white knuckled with the effort of keeping himself in check. He’s really committed not to touch me while I’m still his student, but he rasps a question, full of concern.

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes search me, earnestly. “I’m sorry I was too rough, really,”

My heart gives a little somersault. “No, Peeta. You were pure perfection. I loved how you handled me.”

His lips twitch, and I’m amazed at how expressive his face is, even partially hidden under his near facial hair. “You said you were hungry last night before you got on your knees…” I murmur, “I think, next time I’ll return the favor,”

“Next time?”

I slide closer to him, but we both keep our hands to ourselves.

I lick my lips, resisting the urge to drop on my knees between his legs and gobble up his cock. I didn’t lie about wanting to see him in all his naked glory, but I can show the same level of restraint he does; I respect him for trying to keep a moral and ethical compass.

I smirk at him, slyly. “Are you sure you wanna abandon your post as my professor, now that my education is on the balance? We can wait a handful of months, Doctor Mellark… I promise not to tease you,” With that, I mean, I promise not to aggravate what could potentially be the worst case of blue balls in the history of slow burns.

Peeta hisses a mirthless chuckle, “You’re too much of a temptation, even if you don’t actively try teasing me, Katniss,”

I start playing with the end of my braided, dark hair. “You know what I’m most really looking forward to, from when I’m no longer your student?” I pose, shyly, “Going to that dinner you mentioned last night.” I shrug one shoulder. “I’ll let you buy me a stack of pancakes to celebrate my graduation. I’ll probably introduce you to my sister, Primrose… and we’d go from there… if you wanted to…”

Peeta smiles, disarmingly. “I’d love that too, Miss Everdeen.” He says quietly.

I let go of my braid, and hug myself, “Stay in the class?” I practically beg one last time. “We can do it, I know we can. We can have a platonic, completely innocent teacher-student relationship until I’m done with college,”

Peeta shakes his head. “We’ll see after I talk to my head of department. Who knows, maybe all the schedules are already locked in place, and I have no other choice but to stay put. There’s no guarantee a replacement is available for me.”

“We’ll make it work!” I say enthusiastically.

“Maybe…” he sighs, not entirely convinced.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Time is running out, I gotta get to the pharmacy before my window of opportunity closes.

“Hey, Peeta… um, invasive, weird question?”

I wait for him to nod.

“Have you by any chance, have gotten a vasectomy at any point?”

“Mmm no, never had. Why?”

Aw shit!

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Hopefully no reason.” I say quickly, too nonchalant for my own good, and he catches on it, I can see the gears turning in his brain, “Okay,” I make a big show of yawning and stretching my arms, “I have to run some errands before going home and crashing for the night.”

Peeta cringes, “Are you… okay? Really, okay? You said you were sore?” His eyes rove over my face full of concern.

“I’m fine,” I smile, “nothing a long soaking in Epsom salts can’t cure.”

“Okay,” he says, unsure. “I don’t want to overstep any worse than I already have, but… I’ve been anxious, wondering if you were alright, if you got home fine to your sister since you left the club. Which, obviously you did… but, I wanted to kick myself for not asking your number, just to be able to check on you… and this is frown upon, a d completely unethical, but—“

“I’ll email you,” I say quickly. “Nothing explicit. But I’ll let you know I’m home and okay.” I’ve spoken to people in code before, this shouldn’t be a problem, and really, sending my professor an email with a time stamp and some innocuous question about the syllabus doesn’t have to be nefarious at all.

“Alright… Just let me know if there’s anything wrong, okay? I swear this won’t become a routine thing or anything, just this time, to give me peace of mind, and because it is late… and well, yesterday…”

“It’s fine, professor. I don’t mind. And… everything will work out,” I say shouldering my bag and pocketing my phone, “everything will work out, even if my Plan B doesn’t,” I smile and scurry out the door, before the puzzlement in his face has time to settle.

After all, a semester is only 15 weeks long, give or take… that’s plenty of time to figure things out.

#alliswell21 #animekpopxx #prompt 144 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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