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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

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vexelier-suix-cipher · 3 years

Text

"Could you do Teruteru, Hifumi, and Ryoma getting drugged by a love potion and falls (even harder) for the reader (who has already fallen for them)?"

100% I can!! :D

Warnings: Mentions of love drug/potion, slight obsession(?), and swearing.

===

Hifumi Yamada

•Proceeds to rant about how amazing Hifumi is

•Fanfic boy loves you very much!! (Though he did his best to hide it)

•It felt like when a cat loved it owner. Celeste went out the window. This man would get on his hands and knees for you. 🙇🏽‍♂️

•You also loved him very much!! (Literally Taka had to keep Mondo from lunging at you two and screaming "JUST DATE ALREADY!!")

•Oh but what's this? A drink on his desk after a hard day of drawing and writing manga?

•Well of course he drank it!! He chugged that drink and felt quite satisfied after.

•And back to work he goes :›

•He had some music on and his script for his next manga, scribbling out the sketches for his newest manga when he felt the sudden urge to go see you.

•It was nothing too new. Could've been he just wanted to show you the script for his manga!! A beta read!

•So Hifumi happily found you and sat you down, showing you the script for his manga!

•He felt a bit- different.

•He felt like he needed to have you in his arms.

•He needed you closer.

•He needed- you.

•The even more clingy behavior continued for a few days.

•Though you didn't mind, you did find it a bit strange.

•Why was he so clingy?

•You already read this script-

•And read that one too-

•Didnt he have things to do?

•He was going to fall behind in his schedule if he continued like this!!

•So when you saw him walking over to you once again, you pulled him to the side and questioned him.

"Hifumi, you've been acting kinda strange these past few days. Are you okay? Don't get me wrong, I love having you by my side but you're going to fall behind in your schedule."

"Well...I don't really know how to explain it. I feel like I've got to be with you all the time!! A-And I'm getting work done!!"

•He huffed and whined for a while longer as you continued asking him things before he got frustrated with himself and finally blurted it out

"Fine!! Fine. I like you, okay? I have for a while a-and I just didn't know how to tell you-...I found this drink on my desk one day and now that I think about it, it could've been one of those love potions that I've been hearing about...could've made my feelings stronger.."

•He started muttering towards the end but you could understand the gist of it.

•You reassured him it was fine and that you accepted his feelings.

•Which was returned with a loud,

"HUH?!? YOU DO?! WHEN- HOW-"

•*Once again has to calm fanfic boy down*

•After calming him down (again) you went over your own feelings.

•He had the brightest smile on his face I swear

•He just couldn't hold back!

•So he picked you up and held you close, hugging you sweetly

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!"

===

Teruteru Hanamura

•AGGRESSIVELY RANTS ABOUT HOW AMAZING HE IS

•Love Potion exists?

•He probably bought it.

•This boy is already so head over heels for you it's absolutely adorable.

•He 100% cooks for you.

•Breakfast? In bed.

•Lunch? Made your favorite food.

•Dinner? You can eat with him! :D

•And his food is just 😩 to die for

•He does his best to tone down the sexual comments a bit, though he can't help if one or two slip out!

•Compliments you every 5 minutes no lie.

•Though he does turn cherry red if you compliment him

•If you allow petnames, he WILL call you darlin' and sugar the most.

•Now for the fun part

•He was most likey cooking and was working with the oven.

•Ovens hot. His clothes are pretty hot.

•So he stripped got something to drink out the fridge

•He blindly took a glass out the fridge and drank it.

•Drank the damn love potion-

•He knew he accidentally drank it. He read the label he had put on the glass right after he drank it.

•Unlike Hifumi, he tried staying away from you

•Poor boy doesn't know how to show such strong feelings :(

•He still does cook for you though

•And leaves you little snacks

•Did yelp when you came into the kitchen once without him knowing (it's true I was the dust on the oven window)

•Alot more fiddly and nervous when he has to go ask you something

•His gaze is towards the floor and he's playing with the ends of his scarf as that adorable accent decorates his speech

•Hes so nervous oh poor baby

•You found him scurrying everywhere once trying to find his hat when you had to point out it was on his head-

•He was so embarrassed-

•He apologized and walked back towards the kitchen

•He cooks his feelings away

•That is alot of food-

•Once he disappeared into the kitchen you went after him

•You had been wondering why he ran away from you every time you saw him

•You were worried :(

•As he went back into the kitchen, he paused hearing someone else's footsteps.

•He turned around and jumped slightly when he saw you

•Begin the anxious southern rambling and questions.

"O-Oh! S/o! What brings you to the...the kitchen??"

"Teru, what's going on? You keep ignoring me."

"W-Well I don' mean to cher' I-Its just I' been kinda stressed lately a-an' I don' wanna bother you with tha'-"

•Oh sweet boy almost cried just talking to you

•He wanted to confess so badly!!

•He just wanted to hug you and bury his face into your neck!!

•But he was so scared :(

•After a good talk, the confession just slipped out of him mid-sentence

"I already apologized cher'..."

"C'mon Teru, what's been REALLY happening with you?"

"W-Well...the truth is I accidentally drank a love potion and since I love you so damn much it strengthened my feelings...I-I didn't wanna make you uncomfortable so I stayed away in case I-"

"Did you just say you love me?"

"I-I did..?"

•Oh certainly he did. And when he realized, he apologized 10x more.

•You had to shut him up by squishing his face

•After a good explanation about you loving him too, he clung onto you with a laugh.

•He sat in your lap (and after some consent) kissed your face all over, muttering a soft 'I love you' after each kiss

•You two sat together like that for quite a bit, just laying in each other's presence

"Thank you so much....you don't know how much that means to me...how much YOU mean to me..."

===

Ryoma Hoshi

•Ah yes. Tiny, edgy, ex-tennis, cat loving, deep voiced boy

•Where do I start?

•Lets start with

•He's absolute shit at feelings.

•Like really.

•He refused to believe he fell for you.

•His heart was racing? No it wasn't. It's probably because he was out of breath.

•He's flustered and blushing? Kinda hot in the room y'know.

•You get the point.

•He hates the fact he fell for you. He doesn't know what to do.

•He lost almost everyone he ever loved before. Why would this be any different? He didn't want to put you in danger.

•Ryoma hanged around with you though. He was a bit quiet but he went basically everywhere you went

•No one really messed with you when little man was with you.

•This was okay. He could hide his feelings. You wouldn't be in danger and he wouldn't ruin his relationship with you.

•Then the world announced a love potion was now available!!

•Ah shit.

•That damn Kokichi.

•All he wanted was some water and that little panta-loving gremlin switched it out with the new potion.

•He had already chugged around half the bottle before he realized it wasn't his juice.

•Ryoma would've just left it at 'Oh I just poured the wrong drink in' if it wasn't for Kokichi coming up to him about an hour later.

"Nishishishi....how's the love potion working Ryoma?"

"The what."

"Oops~"

"You little-"

•Kokichi went to the nurse with a bump on his head from Ryoma hitting him with a tennis ball.

•You thought Teruteru hiding away was bad?

•Ryoma refused to leave his dorm.

•He came out at around lunch time to get food, go to the bathroom, and then back to his dorm.

•No one was allowed in.

•He could feel the effects of the potion working.

•He wanted to get out and cling to you so badly. It almost physically hurt

•Fucking hell-

•Him. Ryoma Hoshi. The guy who basically gave up on life, wanted to run into your arms like a little kid.

•He almost cried.

•Of course you were worried!! He locked himself in his dorm without warning!!

•And he refused to talk to you!!

•You came to his dorm door almost daily, trying to pry open the damn door.

•With no avail.

•Goddammit.

•It wasn't until a few weeks later which he made a plan.

•He'd confess and leave right after.

•If you said no, that would be the end of it.

•If you said yes, ...well he didn't really plan that far.

•Ryoma met up with you at the back of the building, looking down at the ground as he heard your footsteps.

•It took a minute of small talk before he started speaking

"Listen, Kokichi switched my drink out a few weeks ago for that new love potion they're selling. I already had really strong feelings for you but with the potion they increased. I know you probably don't feel the same way but I wanted to tell you because it was starting to get too out of hand for me."

•He rambled on a little about how you would never like him and that he apologized for having such feelings and-

•You yanked his beanie down to his face, letting out a small huff.

"Ryoma Hoshi you have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to confess. You're an amazing guy Ryoma, and I really do wish you confessed sooner since I feel the same way. Now shut it with all the sad shit and come here."

•You told him, tugging him closer by the sleeve as you engulfed him in your arms

•Ryoma felt like his face was on fire. Butterflies in his stomach and a giddy, tingly feeling throughout his body

•He let out a low chuckle, hugging you back and sighing softly

•This was nice. He felt....loved.

•He liked this feeling quite a bit....he had missed this feeling quite a bit.

"Maybe I should've confessed sooner."

===

AHHHHHHHH I HOPE YOU LIKED IT-

I absolutely adore these three.

If you want me to add or fix anything just say the word!!

I had a great time writing this!!

Thanks for requesting!!!

-Vex ∆

#ryoma hoshi x reader #ryoma hoshi #hifumi yamada #hifumi yamada x reader #teruteru hanamura #teruteru hanamura x reader #danganronpa #dr2 #goodbye despair #danganronpa x reader #thank you for requesting!#-Vex ∆

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jawllines · 3 years

Note

Sorry to be annoying but I asked awhile ago and I think tumblr ate my ask but did you ever do tattoo Harry blurb? I love them and I miss them:( I’ve looked through your tags and there isn’t any on there if you have posted one

I CAN POST ONE I WROTE A WHILE AGO RIGHT NOW :D I DONT THINK I POSTED HERE BUT LET ME KNOW HERE YOU GO PET

“Baby -- baby, c’mon!”

It was rare that Harry ever woke Y/N with more than kisses and cuddles. Maybe an abrupt shoulder shake if the both of them slept through their alarms (and, considering that they are the only ones with the key to open up their own respective stores, they never typically arrived late facing happy employees -- or in Y/N’s case, employee -- Niall, in particular, was always more of a grump in that situation than Riktor even), but even that still managed to be tender, and soft. He always treated her so delicately, as if she were made up of porcelain in the morning and it was imperative to speak in a low, soothing voice with careful touches or she might shatter. And she really didn’t think it was because she was an absolute terror to wake up -- Y/N did quite well, even as early as 5 AM she was still in somewhat of a pleasant mood, certainly nothing to be fearful of -- she thinks he’s just gentle in the morning. He’s gentle all the time, but for some reason or another, he’s extra soft with her then.

They had both had a bit of a busy day, so by the time that they made it back to Y/N’s flat (Harry said he liked it there best because it smelled like her, and -- well, he softens her up and calls her Darling when he wants them to go over there, so it’s hard to say no), both of them were ready for bed. Neither of them could barely keep their eyes open as they scarfed down the burgers they’d picked up on the way home, and once they’d finished and brushed their teeth, they toppled into each other on the mattress. Y/N would reckon they both fell asleep before their heads had even hit the pillow -- she doesn’t even remember crawling beneath the blankets.

Apparently she had though, because now as her brain tunes in with the world around her and she realizes that the distorted voice that had begun to prod her dreams was actually a grumpy, dry throat Harry, she’s cuddling herself closer in the covers. This only makes him grumble at her more, “You’re such a blanket hog,” he whines and Y/N finally blinks her eyes open, being greeted with Harry’s disgruntled, pouted face illuminated by the sunlight beginning to slip through the blinds, “I’ve been trying to unravel it for like ten minutes, but you’re all wrapped up! I’m cold.”

Y/N smiles sleepily at him, not understanding the gravity of the situation entirely as she begins to un-burrito herself from the covers, “G’morning, beautiful,” she murmurs as she does so, finally disentangling from the blankets and while she was a little less warm, Harry was quick to wiggle in beneath them, “Sorry.”

“Don’ be sweet when m’tryin’ to be angry with you,” she puckers her lips at him dramatically, and though he sighs, he leans in and presses their mouths together softly, “Your kisses aren’t g’na sweeten me up, m’still grumpy, blanket hog.”

She can only hum as she cuddles closer to him, “Sorry,” she repeated, this time adding, “Like to swaddle myself like a lil’ baby. Reckon you weren’t holdin’ me well enough last night.”

An offended gasp leaves through his lips soundly, enough that it startles her, but his arms worm around her waist and draw her closer to his body, “Brat,” he grumbled, dipping his nose into her throat, “I held you so well and you just wiggled right out of my arms and took all the covers with you.”

“Like a worm -- I wiggled out like a worm or somethin’,” she tried to sit up but his arms tightened around her, “This worm has to pee though and she’ll soak the bed if she isn’t allowed.”

His arm loosens around her, “This worm sounds like she’s a sleepy sort of delusional that requires about two hours more of rest.”

Y/N stumbles toward the bathroom in her room, “Noooooooo,” she whines, frowning at nobody, not bothering to swing the door shut before she plops on the cold toilet seat to relieve herself, “We’re supposed to go get hot chocolate, no more sleep.”

“Baby, it’s 6 AM and I’ve been up the last 30 minutes freezing my bits off!” He calls back to her and she giggles some, her eyes trying to accommodate to the bright white lights of the bathroom, “Sleep just a bit more and we’ll get the hot chocolate when we wake up next.”

She waits until she flushes and washes her hands to respond to him, and though she knows that she is definitely going to crawl back in bed and fall asleep, she stands at the foot of it with her hands in fists at her hips. He had let his eyes flutter closed by then but she thinks he could feel her eyeballing him, so he looks up past the mountain of blankets now covering him so she could only see his eyes and his nose, “What’re you doing?”

“You’re telling me, you don’t wanna go at 6 AM, three hours before the kiosk even opens to get hot chocolate with me? You must really hate me, don’t you?”

He huffs a sharp breath through his nose which is how he usually laughs in the morning, when he can’t muster up the strength to have a proper giggle, “Absolutely loathe you, baby doll, but could you please come back to bed so I can loathe you in the warmth?”

It takes little persuading -- as she said, she knew she was just going to crawl right back in beside him -- and instead of relying too heavily on the blankets to provide her warmth (like wrapping up half of it around her so she was cocooned entirely. . .this is what she normally does, and she would say that’s probably why Harry almost never has any of the covers in the morning), she relies on him. Picks up his arm so that she can fit herself underneath it and lies her cheek on his chest, “Your pits better not be smelly.”

“I make no promises.”

. . .

“I love your hair.”

“Stop it, Sweetheart, I’m g’na start blushing.”

They had slept for four more hours rather than the two Harry had originally suggested, but that always happens with them. Y/N would say that they are just too content cuddled up with one another that they milk it for all it’s worth. If one of them wakes up before the other, then they just settle their head back down and close their eyes again. Unless they had somewhere to be, of course, but Harry had a free Saturday (no clients schedule, even though Saturday’s could often be some of his heaviest days) and he’d elected to spend it with her -- whether they were awake or asleep didn’t much mater, they just liked to be near each other.

When they finally did wake up, they lazily got dressed into about thirty layers so they wouldn’t freeze outside. The weather had grown frigid quite quickly this November, and neither of them stood the cold very well, but there was a park lined with little pop-up kiosks with hot chocolate, sweets, little holiday goodies, and an obscene amount of knitted blankets (it was a clever marketing tactic, Y/N thought -- everyone is more willing to spend money on a blanket when they’re freezing cold - she and Harry had certainly fallen for it today). Y/N bought them shoe warmers to keep their toes at least not numb, and Harry lets her borrow a pair of his gloves because she keeps forgetting to buy some of her own. They both have hats fitted over their heads too, and since Harry’s let his hair grow out, his curls stick out from beneath the pumpkin orange print and Y/N can’t stop staring at it. She’s always loved his hair, she told him as much one of the first nights they’d sat on her bookstore’s floor and talked about just a bit of everything. Back when she barely realized she had a crush on him. . . .when she didn’t know that in just a little time, she would be over the moon.

And she’ll never forget that people used to make him feel like shit about his hair, so she maybe overcompensates by telling him every time she has thought about loving it. Which means today, in the span of a short three hours they’d been awake, Y/N had complimented his hair about twenty different times. If she was running her fingers through it, fixing his beanie, or just staring at him, she let him know just how much she adored his curls.

“I hate to tell you this, Button, but your cheeks are already red as apples,” she shifted the paper cup of hot chocolate from her hand closest to him to the other, so she could reach up and tuck them behind his ear, that had reddened from the cold, “The air has you more bashful than I ever could.”

“Not true,” he murmurs, lowering his voice as he knocks closer to her ear, “I always blush when you go down on me.”

“God,” Y/N shakes her head, “You’re too much, d’ya know that?”

He laughs, nudging her with the cold tip of his nose, “You want the peppermint bark? We’re coming up on the seller.”

“Of course, I want peppermint bark,” she reaches for her wallet, “I’m stocking us up for the next hundred years or so.”

Harry slows for a moment, sliding his gloved hand into her own and squeezing, “Hey,” he begins, his voice soft, somewhat reflective and it brings her attention to him at her side, “Y’know when -- you remember how you said you just get random flushes of love for me and s’a whole lot and you just don’t know what to do with it?”

Y/N nods, “Yeah, like every waking minute practically. Why?”

He smiles shyly, “I’m having one of those moments.”

“For the peppermint bark?” She teases, but his brows furrow and he swats her shoulder playfully, “Hey!”

“I’m trying to be sweet on you, and you’re still going on about this bloody chocolate,” he rubs the arm that he swats, even though Y/N has so many layers on plus the blanket that she bought wrapped around her, that he made no real contact with her body.

Y/N pulls him in for a hug, narrowly avoiding a child running past them as she does so, “Oh, you know m’only kidding. I love you too, Bug, more than words can describe and ten times more than the chocolate I reckon. . .well, unless it’s made really well this year.”

“I’ll leave you here, blanket hog.”

#blurbs #Anonymous

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peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

Text

chapter 9

Fake Making-It

Social Media AU

previous chapter

tag list: @allthewayornowayy @wedarkacademia @lockerfivethreefive @yellowballoon @gucciboner @nora-keinwitz @moonskam @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @akucecilia @hischbabe @evaksobbe

~^~

Sander is about to throw up, and it’s no surprise Lucas is laughing at him.

He huffs under his breath from the seat next to Sander, shaking his head as he leans up against the window. They’re already at the cafe Robbe had told Sander they’d be meeting at, have already been here for about fifteen minutes, and Sander is getting more and more antsy by the second. He expects Lucas to be irritated by now, but he seems too amused to be annoyed, bumping Sander’s jiggling leg with his own and giving a fond roll of his eyes.

Lucas doesn’t seem to share any of his nerves at all. He looks like the actual celebrity of this meeting, reclining in the strips of sunlight shining through the window. The silver bracelet on his left wrist and his collection of rings twinkle in it. His curls fall in an artsy mess over his forehead, and the top two buttons of his loose, silky, navy shirt are undone, exposing a triangle of pale skin and the sharp lines of his collarbones.

He looks ready for a night out, or to be the subject of one of his own photoshoots. Not like he’s meeting two relatively famous guys in a quiet, mainstreet cafe.

Sander is wearing a beige sweater with his leather jacket draped over the back of his chair. Bleached strands of hair keep dangling in his eyes, and he’s sure there are more sticking up on his head with how often he’s been shoving his hand through them. His lips are tingly from how often he’s been biting them.

He doesn’t look half as put together.

“Why were we so early?” Lucas questions. “They obviously aren’t as eager.”

“Because, there could have been traffic.”

“Twenty minutes of it?”

“Yes.”

Lucas stares at him for a moment then gives another huff, leaning back against the windowsill. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s a job interview,” Sander reminds him. “You’re not supposed to be late for those.”

Lucas holds his hands up in surrender, slouching further in his seat, one arm slung carelessly over the back and the other resting on the table.

Sander taps his foot and resumes his task of staring at the door, only to come face to face with Robbe.

Robbe.

Robbe Ijzermans, manager for musician Jens Stoffels, filmmaker extraordinaire, and love of Sander’s life. That Robbe. Is standing right in front of him.

Lucas kicks him under the table and Sander realises he should probably close his mouth.

Of course he’s gaping. How should he be expected to control himself in the face of an angel? Never in his life has he thought he would end up in the same room as Robbe, but now he’s right here. He stands barely a few feet away from Sander, his hand already resting on the back of the opposite chair. He’s smiling in faint amusement, top teeth digging into his bottom lip in an attempt to hide it. He’s wearing his brown jacket, the one Sander has become familiar with through a year of following him on social media.

He looks more beautiful than Sander ever thought possible.

Even with Jens standing right behind him, flicking his gaze between Sander and Lucas with something suspiciously like nerves.

“Hi,” Lucas says, taking the leap and breaking the silence, instantly earning Jens and Robbe’s attention. “Are these seats alright?”

Robbe’s smile widens, turning friendly as he nods and pulls the seat out to sit down. “Yeah, this is good. Sorry, have we kept you waiting?”

Sander does his best to ignore how Robbe’s feet bump against his before the smaller boy fully settles with his coat thrown over the back of his chair. Sander shakes his head. “No,” he says softly.

Then Robbe turns his eyes on him and his smile widens even further. He sticks his hand out across the table as Jens slips behind him and settles in the seat across from Lucas, dropping his own coat on the windowsill and adjusting his beanie.

“It’s nice to finally meet you in person,” Robbe says, and after a moment Sander realises he’s supposed to shake his hand and return the greeting.

Even Robbe’s hands are beautiful. Small and slim, but strong around Sander’s. Sander holds on for a little longer than necessary. Robbe doesn’t seem to find it odd, still wearing the same smile when Sander snaps out of it enough to say, “You too.”

Robbe holds his hand out to Lucas, and Lucas shakes it easily, and Robbe seems pleased.

Then Jens mimics the gesture, holding his hand out to Lucas, and Lucas raises his brows and asks, “Is the beanie supposed to be a disguise?”

Jens stares at him for a second, then touches the hat on his head, then shakes his head and pulls it off, hastily brushing a hand through his hair. “No.” The single word comes out hoarse. Jens runs his hand through his hair again and clears his throat. “No, it’s just—just cold.”

Lucas hums. He has leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest—a clear indication that he won’t welcome that handshake. Sander bites the inside of his cheek and nudges Lucas’s leg under the table in a silent reminder of their deal. If Lucas behaves during the meeting, Sander will finally clear out the spare room in his flat and build the bed, so Lucas will no longer have to share his.

It doesn’t matter that it’s a win-win for them both for Sander to do it. Lucas is still the one being pissy about it, and Sander has simply used this to his advantage.

“You won’t get recognised here?” Lucas asks, still staring Jens down critically.

“Uh, everyone recognises me here. I live here,” Jens points out. Then he scratches the back of his neck. He seems like he wants to look away from Lucas and yet fear is holding him in place.

Sander resists the urge to drop his head into his hands.

“So you just walk around, wherever you want, not thinking there might be crazy fans or something?”

Jens huffs, smiling slightly now, amused but unsure if he’s allowed to be. “Who do you think I am?”

Lucas simply cocks his head. “I know what fangirls can be like.”

Sander chances a glance at Robbe, who is watching the interaction like a tennis match. He seems entertained, and not upset. Sander supposes he doesn’t have to shut Lucas up yet.

Jens’s smile widens slightly, and he leans on the table now, arms flopping over each other from elbows to hands. “Are you worried about me, or something?”

This is where things could begin to go downhill. Jens has evidently found his confidence, somewhere, and is teasing, as Lucas had claimed he was wont to do. Sander expects that Lucas will retaliate in kind.

Instead, Lucas frowns slightly, looking entirely serious as he leans himself on the table as well. “I’m worried for Sander and myself. Did you even consider that you could put Robbe in danger?”

Jens flushes slightly, shrinking back with a glance at his friend, before raising his brows at Lucas. “Are we supposed to be hiring you as bodyguard instead, or something?”

Now Lucas bristles.

Robbe sets a hand on Jens’s shoulder and squeezes, and Sander stares at the point of contact with something revolting in his gut. “Okay, speaking of hiring. Should we talk about why we’re here now that...most of us have been introduced?”

Jens slumps back in his seat with his gaze dropping and Robbe squeezes his shoulder again. Sander feels sick. He wishes he hadn’t asked Lucas to come. He wishes he’d asked Robbe if they could have a one-on-one meeting first. He wishes he’d approached Robbe on his own, any time in the past year, when he could have been open with his feelings and Robbe could have rejected him politely. Upfront.

Now he’s supposed to work with him. Professionally. A situation not made for personal feelings and affairs.

It’s just that, Robbe already seems detached from those rules, considering his multi-relationship with Jens. He has been so friendly with Sander since that first message. This had seemed like the perfect opportunity, for Sander to get close to and impress the other man at once.

Instead he’s watching Robbe smile so fondly at Jens that he expects to see heart eyes.

How is Sander supposed to gain his attention when a talented musician, whom Robbe has known for years, already dominates it?

“I can reassure you both too that Jens is right,” Robbe says quickly, when none of them respond to his question. He directs most of his attention to Lucas. “Everyone knows us and we know everyone. We chose this cafe too because it’s run by friends. Perfectly safe, I promise.”

Lucas pumps his eyebrows in acknowledgment and then leans back in his seat again, silenced for the moment. Sander is appeased by the realisation that he’s at least kind enough not to interrogate or argue with Robbe.

Sander clears his throat and tries not to falter as Robbe looks at him again. “So are there contracts, or something?”

“Uh, not yet,” Robbe flushes. “That’s something we could draw up together, a separate one for each of you depending on if you’re interested. But we really just want to discuss what you are interested in. If our ideas match up with yours. We’re not looking for any legally-binding, long-term commitments, just genuine collaborations. Something mutually beneficial.”

Lucas snorts, then seems apologetic for it as he flicks his gaze to Sander. Still, he has earned the attention of Jens again, so he says, “Because we should be grateful to work with someone of your status?”

Robbe frowns, now, and for the briefest moment Sander allows himself to hate his friend. Robbe seems to be searching for a response, already shaking his head, but it’s Jens who speaks up.

“Of course not. It’s no question that I’d be getting the most benefits from working with either of you. You might actually make me look good,” he jokes. He also looks so nervous that Sander considers he might not be joking.

Then he decides it’s probably just because Lucas has gone back to staring him down.

“Why don’t you look for actual modeling gigs?” Lucas presses. Sander detects a tiny bit of genuine curiosity under the accusation.

Jens licks his lips, shrugging slightly. “I have,” he admits. “And I did get some offers, a while ago, but they were either super weird or pure monopoly or both. That’s not the kind of thing I want. The work you do...it’s genuine.”

This makes Lucas pause. “Genuine?”

Sander should have known. He would never get a chance to speak to Robbe like this. He is, however, getting the chance to stare at him in peace. He takes in those soft curls, doe eyes, pouty lips, as Robbe remains oblivious, returned to the tennis match next to them.

“Yeah. I mean, you actually have a passion for it. You have to, to do something self-run like that, I know. It’s obvious you have your own vision, your own ideas, your own vibe, and you’re dedicated. Self-made, like me. And I mean, you use recycled clothing and everything, right? And you base yourself on it. You don’t try to come off as expensive or whatever. You just do you. And that, I mean you—you’re crazy fucking talented to top it off.”

The silence that follows this little speech is rather loud. Enough so to make Jens embarrassed, at least, as he scratches at the back of his neck again and colour floods his cheeks. He had even managed to draw Sander’s attention away from Robbe and his growing grin, too surprised to ignore it any longer, and while that seems the most impossible thing, Jens has also gone a step further.

He has rendered Lucas entirely speechless.

Sander watches his friend as he simply blinks, staring at Jens with parted lips, utterly absent of any comebacks. There might even be a little red in his cheeks. Sander has learned recently that Lucas is weird about semi-famous musicians, but he’s always been aware of Lucas’s inability to take compliments.

Mixing the two seems to have broken him.

Robbe pinches Jens’s cheek and Sander’s attention snaps back to him, takes in his wide grin and the teasing glint in his eyes, and feels the touch pinch at his own heart. “Bet you didn’t think to worry that Jens himself is the stalker,” Robbe says to Lucas.

Jens bats him away with an ease borne only by familiarity. Sander wants to climb across the table and settle himself between them and find out what that touch feels like. Take it for himself. Become that familiar.

The more distant Robbe seems, the more Sander wants.

He wants this. Exactly this. Robbe’s warm smile and easy touch, his familiarity and his fondness. He wants it. He wants what very clearly isn’t his.

He wants to leave. He wants the floor to swallow him whole.

Where has his confidence gone? His surety? All this time, he has known. From somewhere deep down, from an inexplicable place, he’s felt it. There’s something about Robbe that speaks to him. That reels him in. That is made especially for Sander.

He can feel it. Has always felt in. Even now it’s there, a force he can’t ignore, holding him in Robbe’s orbit.

Robbe isn’t even looking at him.

Still, Sander feels completely unmoored.

Oddly enough, Lucas seems to be in the same boat.

He’s still staring at Jens, at a loss, and Sander is becoming more and more concerned by the minute. Lucas isn’t usually one to struggle with finding words, or to hold back, but now he seems to be doing both. Eventually, he comes up with, “Are you interested in fashion?”

Sander looks at Jens’s hoodie and jeans combo and barely holds back a snort.

Robbe doesn’t bother to, but he then covers his mouth with his hand and shares a look with Sander. Cheeks dimpled, eyes twinkling, faintly apologetic. Sander’s heart flutters and flops in his chest.

Jens flushes in response. “I might not be an artist the same way that you are, but I know something good when I see it. And your work is good.”

Lucas seems to falter again. Then he gathers himself. “But you’re not actually interested in any of it,” he presses. “So why are you so set on working with me?”

“I believe in taking a shot.” Jens shrugs, even as his blush deepens and he sinks down in his seat. “Seizing every opportunity.”

“So it’s about the money,” Lucas says.

Jens instantly shakes his head. “No. It has nothing to do with that. None of this does. I don’t make music for money in the first place. It’s not about that or publicity or whatever else you’re thinking.” He pauses for a moment, then glances at Robbe, who gives him an encouraging nod. Jens nods back, swallows, and leans towards Lucas again, resting on the table. “It is about building myself. I won’t deny that. I want to be able to make a successful career out of music, and deals like this benefit that. Promotional shit, branching out. I never really wanted to do any of that, because I hate all these business politics and contracts and shares or whatever the fuck everyone looks for. I didn’t want to work with anyone who just did it to do it. I try to be as honest as I can with everything I do and I want to work with people who have the same values. I saw that in you.” He spares a glance towards Sander. “Both of you.”

Sander smiles, shooting a look at Lucas as he places a hand over his heart. “It’s nice to be included.”

Lucas’s lips twitch as Jens begins to stutter, but Robbe interrupts by leaning up next to him. Towards Sander.

Robbe smiles, placating, instantly grabbing all of his attention with his sweet expression. “Sorry,” he laughs slightly. “We just assumed Lucas would want more convincing. Jens spent a lot of time preparing his pitch.”

Jens slumps back in his chair and mutters, “That’s not true.”

Sander hears Lucas huff, but it’s Robbe’s fond smile he’s once again focused on. Robbe directs the smile back over his shoulder, at Jens, and teases, “No, of course not. It’s just natural charm.”

“And it’s very cruel of you to suggest otherwise,” Jens agrees, relaxing a little now as his lips finally twitch in a smile. He shoots a glance at Lucas. “Is it working?”

Sander finally offers his own friend some more attention, though not all of it. He still has a little focus on Robbe, out of the corner of his eye. He can’t quite draw himself away completely. The longer he looks, the harder it gets.

Everything becomes more desirable, he supposes, when you realise it’s something you can’t have.

Lucas bites his lip and looks to Sander, who simply raises his brows. It’s answer enough to him, makes him sure that it is working, and Lucas just doesn’t want to admit it, to any of them. He lets a heavy breath out through his nose and turns to Robbe. “I guess it wouldn’t do any harm to discuss what the deal would entail.”

Sander knows it’s already a yes, and going by Jens’s grin, he does too. He supposes getting Lucas to agree to that much either way is a win in itself.

Jens and Robbe both certainly take it as one, growing relieved and twice as friendly all at once. Robbe immediately goes into a spiel over the main details, rhyming off what they’d expect and what they’re offering in return with only a few questioning glances towards Jens here and there. From what Sander gathers, they’re ready to pay him to help out with Jens’s promotional work, but the situation with Lucas is somewhat more complicated.

“No, I get that,” Lucas admits. “If you were asking me to design something specifically for you then it would be different, but if it’s just to promote my line then I’m usually the one doing the hiring and paying.”

Robbe nods, suddenly all business. Sander shouldn’t find it as endearing or attractive as he does, especially considering he has already had a number of conversations with Robbe in this exact fashion.

All their conversations have been for business, Sander supposes, or just Robbe being nice. Buttering up a potential coworker.

Sander shoves the thought away and swallows down the bitterness that comes with it.

“We get if that doesn’t exactly help our appeal,” Robbe assures Lucas. He spares one of his glances towards Jens. “Which is why we were actually interested in asking you to design something for us. Not really anything out of your usual, but just with a small addition that would signify Jens. It would only have to be a couple of items. I’m sure Sander is capable of working some photo magic and getting a bunch of great shots out of one outfit.”

Sander lets the compliment seep through him, accepts Robbe’s smile with one of his own as warmth spreads through his chest and softens him up. It’s impossible not to like Robbe when he says things like this, looking like that.

Lucas seems more hesitant. “I usually do my own shoots. Unless I’m modeling it myself or doing a collaboration.” He gestures at Sander.

Jens perks up again. “Wait. So most of the pics on your page, they’re your own?”

Lucas looks to him with a raised brow, faintly amused. As subtle as it is, it’s a stark shift from his earlier indifference that had bordered on irritation. “In all your stalking you didn’t see the ‘photographer’ description in my bio?”

“Uh, no,” Jens admits. “I kind of zoned that bit out, I guess.”

“So really, you could just hire me,” Lucas says, shooting Sander one of his cheekiest smiles.

“No,” Robbe admonishes, still smiling, turning placatingly to Sander again. “We’re super happy to work with you both. There’s no problem with splitting the photography load, Lucas, if you want to do your own. We’re hiring Sander in the first place for the promotional work for the album, after all.”

“Are you releasing an actual album?” Sander questions, impressed. So far, Jens had released a couple of singles and an EP, but less than ten songs overall. An album could be double that.

Jens smiles slightly, nodding. “That’s why we’re reaching out right now, yeah. Months of writing and recording and other behind the scenes shit finally getting to the stage where we have something to promote,” he huffs.

“Nice,” Sander approves. He might be dealing with a rather intense level of jealousy over the other man, but he can’t deny such an achievement. Sander has always been a music lover himself. He found Robbe through Jens, after all.

“We’ll get some sneak previews of it,” Robbe grins, sitting back to nudge Jens’s side. It’s clear that he’s already had a front row seat to all of it. He turns back to Sander and Lucas with an even wider smile. “It’s amazing, honestly.”

Jens flushes, nudging him back, starting a mini battle between them, and something hot and sharp spikes in Sander’s stomach.

He tosses his arm over the back of Lucas’s chair and smirks, trying to regain some of his usual cool, trying to convince himself to speak. “Lucas hasn’t heard any of it.”

Robbe blinks, surprised as he looks to Lucas, and Sander suddenly regrets speaking without focusing the attention on himself.

Jens seems disappointed, but he brushes it off with professional grace. “Not everyone has,” he says simply, offering a smile that looks somewhat tight.

Lucas’s lips work for a second as he shoots Sander a dark glare, and he argues, “I hadn’t before, but I have listened to it.”

Jens brightens, leaning forward and tilting his head. “Which song?”

“What do you mean?” Lucas raises a brow. “I said I’ve listened to it.”

It takes a moment for understanding to sink in, and then Jens’s eyes widen, pleased. “All of it?”

“When?” Sander demands, equally surprised.

“Last night. You only have eight songs on your Spotify, it didn’t take long.” Lucas looks between them all, Sander’s amusement and Jens’s delight and Robbe’s gentle smile, and blushes. “What? I wanted to see if it was the kind of vibe I was even interested in working with.” He focuses in on Jens. “You’re not the only one capable of doing your research.”

Jens grins. “I’m flattered.”

Sander snorts, tugging at the back of Lucas’s hair, and Lucas brushes him away as his blush begins to fade. He’s saved from any further embarrassment by the buzz of his phone, which he pulls out and only gives a brief glance at before stiffening.

He curses under his breath and looks at Sander apologetically before showing him the screen. It takes a moment for Sander to make out the message, a request to call Lucas, and then another to notice the contact. Lucas’s mother only reaches out in such a way when she deems it a last resort. “I have to go handle this,” he says quietly, and Sander nods, knowing he couldn’t possibly have the heart to argue.

“You’re leaving already?” Jens questions, even more disappointed than before.

Lucas offers them both a smile that’s more a simple pursing of lips. “Sorry, really. Family emergency. But I’m interested, in working with you. Sander can pass on whatever details you all work out. Is that okay?”

Robbe instantly nods, smile soft and understanding. “Of course. We can contact you directly if there’s anything important?”

Lucas murmurs an agreement, then stuffs his phone in his pocket and turns back to Sander. He presses an apologetic kiss to his cheek, giving his shoulder an encouraging squeeze as he stands and lifts his denim jacket from the back of his chair. He offers Robbe and Jens another brief glance. “It was nice to meet you both, and I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”

They both nod, and Robbe returns Lucas’s goodbye, watching after him as he shrugs on his jacket and heads for the door. Jens, however, lingers on Sander and the spot Lucas had vacated until Sander catches his gaze and he hastily looks away.

Robbe turns back to them and raps his hands on the table, then reaches up to squeeze Jens’s shoulder. “Okay. How about we discuss the rest over actual food? You look in need of some fries.”

“And a burger,” Jens agrees.

Robbe huffs and raises a brow at Sander, tilting his head towards the counter. “Do you want to come order with me?”

“Oh.” Sander blinks. They’ve been sitting here long enough now that he should be accustomed to Robbe’s smile already. He’s been looking at it for a year before now. It shouldn’t throw him the way it does. It’s not so surprising that the offer to have a moment with Robbe alone makes his stomach flip. “Yeah, sure.”

Robbe’s smile widens as he twists his legs out from under the table, but Jens catches his arm before he can get up. Sander has already risen, and he lingers next to the table awkwardly, watching how easily Robbe succumbs to the touch, leaning back towards the musician like a moth called to a flame. He keeps watching as Robbe leans right in, tilting their heads together, and Jens whispers something quiet that makes him flush, shaking his head with a tiny laugh before he gets up along with Sander.

Robbe doesn’t even look at him on the way to the counter, and then he rests on the wood and keeps his gaze forward with his smile still in place. It would be fine, normal, for Robbe not to be looking, if Sander was able to draw his own gaze away. But he’s staring, blatantly, and he thinks Robbe’s flush may have darkened slightly, but he hasn’t given any real indication that he has even noticed.

Sander might as well still be looking at him through a screen.

The realisation hits very suddenly that he isn’t, because he realises he can feel him. Robbe’s presence next to him is a tangible thing, radiating warmth. There’s a faint scent wafting from him and invading Sander’s senses, a mixture of an aftershave Sander recognises and something else intrinsically Robbe. Sander wants to get closer and figure out what it is, breath him in until he can call up the smell from memory. He wants too much. All things he’s quickly realising he can’t have.

He urges himself to say something now, to take this one big chance, to make an impression. To leave an imprint, at the very least.

Robbe beats him to it.

“Sorry, really,” he says, finally turning to look at Sander with a sheepish smile. “This probably wasn’t what you were expecting to get out of the meeting.”

Sander hadn’t really been expecting anything, but he’s been wanting. All he ever wanted to get out of this was Robbe. He doesn’t care about the job, the contracts, the money. He cares about the harsh thump of his heart, the raucous roar of his pulse, the yearning stemming straight from his soul at the mere sight of those eyes on him.

It’s ridiculous and impossible, to have feelings like this for someone he doesn’t even know. But he knows Robbe in a way that doesn’t require any actual knowledge, any facts or details, interactions or memories. Sander’s very being recognises Robbe, responds to the light buried in the man’s chest with a hopeful flicker of its own.

It leaves Sander swallowing down the ball of emotion in his throat before he can manage to smile, shrug, and speak. “It’s not over yet. Anyway, it was weirdly entertaining to watch Lucas slowly realise he was running out of arguments.”

Robbe huffs a laugh, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve seen Jens determined, but that was something else,” he agrees. “I don’t really know what’s up with the whole thing, but I think he’s just really worried, you know? The album feels like the actual start of things and he’s just constantly thinking of what could go wrong, I guess.”

“So is this almost like a distraction, or something?” Sander asks, partly out of genuine curiosity and partly to keep Robbe talking to him.

“Maybe,” Robbe hums, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to Sander with another smile. “I’m happy about it either way.”

Sander blinks, heart racing. He tells himself he shouldn’t ask. “You are?”

Robbe shrugs, smile widening. “Of course. More fun and less stress in my future now, too.”

“Really? I would’ve thought all this organising and hiring and everything is more work for you.”

“Well, maybe it is.” Robbe shrugs again, crossing his arms over each other atop the counter. “But you and Lucas don’t seem like you’ll make it difficult.”

“Lucas doesn’t seem difficult?” Sander raises his brows.

Robbe laughs, then raises his brows back, pursing his lips and widening his eyes in an exaggerated expression of exasperation. “No more so than Jens.”

Sander’s humorous mood slips and leaves him biting his lip. “You do a lot for him,” he says, and it’s as much a question as a statement.

“Yeah, well, like I said. He needs a little guidance sometimes.” Robbe grins. “He’s not that difficult, most of the time, and even then he’s still Jens. I know what he’s like and what to expect, which I guess is more than most people can say honestly.”

They could leave it there. Sander has no reason to push any further. He doesn’t even know what he’s pushing for. “And it never bothers you? That idea of his fame?”

Robbe shrugs, biting his lip. “He deserves it, and I know he’d never leave me behind, so. It’s a little scary sometimes, because it involves working with a lot of scary people and having even scarier fans sometimes, but,” he pauses, glancing over his shoulder again. His face softens completely, eyes brimming over with it, and Sander’s heart crawls into his throat and threatens to choke him. Robbe turns back to him with the faintest but warmest smile. “But I love him, so.”

Sander’s heart splinters. A jagged piece cuts through his vocal chords, rendering him momentarily speechless, before everything clatters uselessly back into his chest and leaves him offering an empty smile. He tells himself that it’s no different. He could say he loves Lucas, and it wouldn’t mean anything heartbreaking.

But when Robbe says it, that’s how it feels. Robbe says it like he means it.

Robbe says it in the way Sander hoped he’d one day say it about him.

He’s saved from having to answer when a cashier finally makes her way over to them and apologizes for the delay. Sander can barely acknowledge her, but Robbe offers an easy smile and places his and Jens’s orders, and then turns to Sander. Sander fumbles out something and now finds himself entirely unable to look at Robbe.

He’s only able to once Robbe pats his pockets and then curses under his breath, blushing slightly as he glances at Sander from underneath his lashes. “Forgot that my wallet’s in my jacket.”

Sander just gives a gentle huff and a smile as Robbe walks back to the table. Jens looks up at him with furrowed brows, then laughs and sets his hand on Robbe’s arm, saying something as he rises from his seat. Robbe rolls his eyes, but drops back into his seat as Jens squeezes his shoulder and slips out around him, coming to join Sander at the till.

Sander quickly looks straight ahead again, even as Jens attempts to offer him a smile. He’s a lot taller than Sander expected, and he hates how small it makes him feel. He suddenly understands what Lucas has been warning him about.

“Sorry, about not even introducing myself properly,” Jens says, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

Sander glances at him. “That’s fine. I mean, I know who you are, so.”

Jens huffs a laugh, nodding in acceptance. “Okay, cool. I promise I’ll be more into it now. I don’t actually know why I was so nervous,” he laughs again, nervously. “It’s just, meetings. Professional shit. Professional people.”

Sander’s lips twitch. He doesn’t like it, but he likes Jens. He always has. He can’t quite bring himself to be angry or anything close, but jealousy still rages in him. “Not your thing?”

“Nope,” Jens admits with an easy shrug. “I usually let Robbe do the talking. He’s better with the whole people thing. Friendly.”

“Yeah,” Sander agrees, quietly. “I can see that.”

Jens’s lips purse, and then he’s bumping Sander’s shoulder with his own. “I think we’re more alike. You didn’t really seem to mind Lucas taking over the talking. You were pretty quiet.”

Sander shakes his head. “Usually I’m not, but I was nervous, too, I guess. And tired.”

“Not settled in yet?” Jens questions, brows furrowed.

“Not really,” Sander huffs. “Lucas is a restless sleeper.”

“Oh.” Something unreadable takes over Jens’s expression for a second, and then he looks away. For a moment he’s silent, and Sander thinks that’s it, but then Jens swallows and purses his lips and speaks again. “I didn’t realise you were together.”

For a split second, Sander is confused. Then he realises what Jens means, what he thinks Sander implied, and then he wants to laugh. He should laugh. Because it’s wrong, it’s so wrong, that it is actually funny, and Sander should clear things up immediately.

But.

Everything becomes more desirable when you realise it’s something you can’t have.

He stares at Jens blankly, then with a furrowed brow and parted lips, and then the cashier returns with their food. Jens pays for everything before looking back at Sander questioningly, and then Sander does the really stupid thing.

He says, “Oh, yeah.”

~^~

next chapter

#wtfock #skam nl #sobbe #robbe x sander #van der stoffels #vds #fake making-it #now it’s starting

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captaincharmer · 2 years

Text

don't look up

Besides being cold, it also rains every day, and if it's not raining, it's snowing and if it's not snow, it's the wind. There is not one minute of peace.

I returned home slowly, trying to keep the heat inside my coat, cursing the idea of shaving my head before winter. Even with a beanie on, I still got chills from the cold.

“Fucking hell of a day.” I cursed, looking down the endless street that led me home.

I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to get home. My parents needed to sign the warning letter I got from school. I was written up because I got caught drawing in geometry class again and the school doesn’t like my drawings. Well, okay, maybe I wasn’t written up so much because I was drawing 5-eyed, sharp-toothed monsters, and maybe it was more because I hate geometry and I'm one step away from failing the class. Or both.

A I’m walking down the street, looking at the houses and the initial signs of pathetic Christmas decorations; the light covered bushes, the Santa Clauses with their hats freezed over from the amount of snow, and the sidewalks, so swamped with ice that if there was ever something underneath, it was now just concrete water.

One of the houses on the street had a Jesus on the cross in the garden and other various religious style Christmas decorations around it... all swallowed up by the ravages of the cold.

I’m reminded of the time a nun came to one of the career days at school and the poor woman ended up seeing one of my drawings. She knelt down and asked God to save my soul from hell, just like my grandma did when she saw them too. I got lectures from both of them to stop drawing demons. I may not be the purest of people, but I tried to explain to the woman, pleading on her knees, that they were just drawings and that I didn't believe in Heaven or Hell, there were no such things as demons, just like there were no such things as angels and stuff. It was fun.

I kept walking, watching the houses, each one worse than the one before. One had a penguin dressed as Santa, which I thought was okay. Another one had a punk styled snowman. I thought of trying that one this weekend, I actually kinda liked it. The next house was the best. It had a trampoline.

I stopped, looking at it at the side of the garden. It was hidden by some trees full of branches that had been abandoned by its leaves, now only covered by strips of ice. I examined the house, there’s a pile of newspapers on the porch, one of the windows was broken and the snow was not shoveled from on the stairs or the sidewalk. Nobody lived there.

I looked at both sides of the street, as empty as my geometry notebook. I rushed into the garden, tossing my backpack somewhere, and started climbing into the trampoline.

It was always my favorite thing to do when my parents rented them for my birthday parties, but they stopped paying for them when I turned 13. They also wouldn't let me play on them even on my stupid cousins stupid bithdays as well. “You're too big Evan, you can't play with the kids anymore, Evan. It's going to hurt them, Evan.” Stupid.

"Nice!" I exclaim, climbing up and flexing my knees. I feel the trampoline sway and creak.

I start to jump. There's a lot of accumulated snow, it bounces and flies everywhere. Snow falls all over my body, but I don't even feel cold anymore. The effort of jumping warms me up and my laughter creates dense white clouds in the air around me.

I pick up momentum and go higher, higher, and higher. When I'm about to touch the farthest branches from the trees, I lift my feet up and lie down in the air, letting myself fall onto my back. I look up at the cloudy gray sky and, for a second, I remember a silly thing that my grandma used to say when I played.

“Be careful, Ven! Always jump on your feet, dear. Be careful on those playthings! Don't look up!”

From one second to another, in the time that it takes for this memory to come to my mind, of me falling and hitting my back on the trampoline, It just doesn't. My back doesn't touch the trampoline, but the snow flies around me as if it had. And now, as I'm looking up, snow flying around me, I'm also looking down.

It was so quick, it was so fast. The same time it takes your body to slow down and start falling after you jump up. The moment when inertia ends and gravity pulls you back down.

Then, what once was a gray sky was now red, orange and black. It was boiling hot and I could see pairs of big, dark eyes staring back into my soul. Its teeth were roughly my size, its mouth smiled at me as if it saw my soul as dinner. Horns grew out of the sides of its heads, protruding from its shoulders along with the strange collection of wings and other limbs.

I was looking down as if I was falling straight to Hell. Suddenly, I feel my body going up and the snow swallows me up.

I'm back on the trampoline, face down and buried in the snow. Right then I start screaming and kicking. I sit up, dripping with sweat, my heart is racing and my body is shaking. I dig into the snow in a pointless desperation to find something that I couldn't even say what it was. I found only the fabric of the trampoline. Nothing beyond that, and snow.

"Fuck!" I hurriedly stood up, shaking and falling down from the stairs to the floor.

I shake the snow off my body and run in a hurry, trying to put my backpack back on as I fix my beanie, almost falling from my head. My ears were burning. I trip over a stone walking through the garden, fixing myself until I'm on the street again.

With my heart pounding and my breathing uneven, I walk on autopilot in a straight line trying to understand what happened. What was that? Was that Hell? But I was looking up!

I couldn't stop sweating.

Even so, in the midst of my despair, a little voice inside me insisted on asking itself:

"If I was looking up, could that actually be Heaven?..."

I stop in the middle of the street, euphoria taking over my body.

"And what if I jump the other way and look down, what will I see?"

Guess I'll have to stop by that house tomorrow to find out.

--D.

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/tru9c4/dont_look_up/

https://www.wattpad.com/story/306199879-don%27t-look-up

#writers #writing #writerscommunity #creative writing #tumblr writers #creepypasta #creepy story #creepy stories #my writing

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draconica · 3 years

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25: Keeping the other person warm

pspsps I wanted to see that praise kink too, bro ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Nick shut the front door on the howling wind as it tried to follow them indoors, having to grunt with the effort but managing to hear the click of the lock. He slumped against it with a breath of relief and turned to Ellis who was shaking the snow from his coat.

“Damn, that blizzard came outta nowhere!” Ellis remarked and removed his beanie hat, shaking out his hair.

Nick nodded as he reached out to grasp Ellis’ shoulder, steadying himself as he toed off he shoes. They were only his loafers – he hadn’t planned on wearing them for snow, so now his feet were freezing. “God damn it,” he mumbled, taking off his jacket and hanging it up in the closet by the front door, then moved both his shoes and El’s boots into the shoe racks. “Crank the heat up, would you, sport?”

“Already done,” Ellis called as he turned up the dial on their thermostat. The young hick then moved through into the living room, peering out their front-facing window. “Shit, would’ya look at it! Looks like Narnia out there already.”

Nick joined him, placing a casually affectionate hand onto Ellis’ lower back. “Well, no poker for me tonight,” he sighed, mentally ripping up that evening’s plans to go to a buddy’s house for a few games.

“I’ll go put the groceries away,” the southerner remarked, rubbing his hands to try and warm them up a little.

“Do that,” replied Nick. “I’m gonna sort something out in here.”

Ellis waved a hand at him, not really paying enough attention to ask what the ‘something’ Nick had in mind would be. He just busied himself with putting away the food they’d bought and trying to keep moving, hoping it would warm him up a bit.

“Jeez, Nick… why’d you buy so many jars o’ pickles?” Ellis grimaced – he’d always hated pickles, but Nick loved them. Just one of many compromises they’d had to settle over the last year. The mechanic continued to unload the groceries until his hand found a bottle and blushed upon pulling it from the bag. It was a bottle of lubricant, a new kind they hadn’t yet tried – a special tingling variety. Nick… that sly bastard. He must’ve slipped it into the cart when Ellis wasn’t looking. Instead of setting it aside to take up to the bedroom later, Ellis slipped it into his pocket, biting his lip a little as he imagined what it would be like to use it. He wondered just how long it would be before they did.

Once he was done, he tossed the paper bags into the recycling and walked back into the living room, pausing when he noticed something was different. First of all, the fireplace had been ignited for the first time since they’d moved in, bathing the room in luscious orange warmth. And secondly, a bundle of thick white blankets had been laid across the couch. In amongst them was his boyfriend, the blanket pulled up to his chin as he looked up at Ellis expectantly.

“Well, I’ll be a bull’s breakfast,” Ellis chuckled, shaking his head. “So this is what’chu were up to in here?”

Nick said nothing. Instead he simply pulled the blankets away from beside him, leaving the space open for Ellis to shuffle in. It wasn’t too often that Nick was willing to cuddle, and would go to such lengths to do so. Perhaps this was just his ingenious way of dealing with the cold?

“El, you coming in or not? The longer I leave a gap in these covers, the colder we’ll be under here.”

He thought so.

Ellis rolled his eyes a little and removed his hoodie before pausing, shrugging, and removing his jeans and t-shirt aswell. Now in just his boxers, the Georgian climbed onto the couch and crawled next to Nick, tugging the covers back over them both and making sure they were tucked in nicely. The younger man looked up at his lover with a smile as they snuggled up closely, both their arms around each other. “This is one o’ yer better ideas,” he murmured.

“What?” Nick opened one eye, tilting his head slightly. “All of my ideas are good ones.”

Ellis had to chuckle again, rubbing his cheek against Nick’s shoulder and allowing one of his hands to gently smooth over his lover’s chest. “Oh yeah? What about that one time you put that Chinese takeout in the microwave while it was still in its cardboard container?”

The conman snorted a little, looking away. “It was only a small fire.”

But Ellis wasn’t finished compiling a list of Nick’s past accidents. “Or that one time the barbecue wasn’t lightin’ so you poured, like, a whole can of gas onto it?”

“Alright,” Nick turned and hushed his lover with a kiss. “Just be glad this fire turned out okay.” He nodded to the fireplace in front of them, blazing away with the occasional comforting crackle. The homeliness of the situation was incredibly charming.

“Love you,” whispered the mechanic, tilting his chin upwards so that he could bury his face into Nick’s neck, something the gambler liked and accepted.

“Love you too, kiddo.” He turned his eyes back to the window. It was almost dark outside, the sky was so gray with heavy cloud, even more snow flurrying down. “Shit, I wonder how deep it’s gonna get?” he chewed the inside of his cheek. “It’s a good thing we just went food shopping, we might be stuck at home for a while if this keeps up.”

Ellis peeked out from his bundle of blankets to have a look for himself. “Man, look at it out there. Hope we don’t get bored.” He shuffled slightly under the covers, nuzzling his lover’s shoulder again. “Lord, and I’m still cold…”

Nick sighed, feigning annoyance, as he tugged Ellis even closer. “C’mere,” he whispered, turning the tables on his lover slightly by moving his face into Ellis’ neck, beginning to kiss and nuzzle there. He was starting to get another one of his brilliant ideas on how they could turn up the heat even more.

And Ellis seemed to warm to the idea very much so, sifting his hand through Nick’s hair and encouraging his affections. With a hum, he turned his body a little more towards the gambler’s, trying to gather as much heat between them as they could. Fortunately, it also meant their chests could press together, Nick’s slightly furred pecs grazing over Ellis’ smoother ones.

“Nick,” whispered Ellis, by now trying to get as much contact between them as possible. “Please tell me we ain’t gotta be anywhere anytime soon.”

“Take another look outside,” Nick chuckled, his hand finding Ellis’ and trailing slowly up his arm. “We probably won’t be leaving the house for a fucking week.”

Leaning back into the couch, Ellis pulled Nick with him until he was almost on top of him. “More than enough time for what I’m thinkin’.”

There was a small glint in Nick’s eye that sparkled just before he leant in for a heated kiss with his lover, pressing him into the back of the couch. It wasn’t always that Nick and Ellis were on the same page about something (more often than not, Nick wondered if Ellis was on the same fucking book) but one of the things they agreed on the most was the right times for sex. Though Nick did like to initiate such things more often, Ellis tended to get more touchy-feely while the pair were in bed together after a long day and they both needed winding down. This time it was ingenious. They could kill two birds with one stone, finding a way to combat both the cold and the boredom.

Ellis gave a long hum of content as Nick’s hands began to wander over his body, trailing over the deep-set lines of his chest muscles. Eventually, as Nick’s fingers went lower to his hips and stomach, Ellis couldn’t help it – he started to giggle.

“C’mon, Nick,” the mechanic blushed harshly, trying to move back slightly from his fingers. “You know I’m ticklish there.”

Nick pulled away from where he’d been kissing his neck. “That’s exactly why I did it, babe.”

“I hate ’chu, sometimes- oh, Nick…” Ellis writhed a little closer to Nick again as the older man’s hand rubbed between his legs, teasing the tent of his boxers even higher.

Nick grinned against the golden skin of Ellis’ neck, his plan set in motion quite nicely. The hick began to buck his hips into the stroking, pawing motion of his older lover’s hand. It soon became clear that Nick was intent on teasing him as he usually liked to do, drawing the foreplay out for as long as possible. And so the smaller man initiated his own plan.

Bracing one hand onto Nick’s shoulder, Ellis pushed his lover until they rolled on the couch and he ended up straddling Nick, pinning him to the cushions with his knees on either side of the man’s hips. The sudden manoeuvre had caused the blankets to fall away slightly, revealing more of their skin to each other. In the orange glow of the fireplace, it was even more inviting. Ellis got immense satisfaction from seeing Nick’s expression turn from surprise to arousal in a matter of seconds.

“You ain’t the only one with tricks up yer sleeve, fancy suit,” purred the Georgian, his hands rubbing Nick’s shoulders as he leant down for a hot kiss. The conman returned it with full fervor, hands travelling over Ellis’ body now that he had more room to do so and in turn the kisses grew more hurried, both men already feeling the heat like it was contagious.

Nick grunted and pushed the blankets off the couch entirely, the bundle falling to the floor unneeded. “Too hot,” he murmured against Ellis’ lips as the younger man cupped his face.

“Perfect,” Ellis replied and began to move his hips against the other man, panting at the friction caused by their underwear. Nick gave a strained noise at the back of his throat at the movements, as his hands went straight to Ellis’ ass and tugged him even closer, encouraging his lover as much as he could. The only times they broke apart from kissing was to moan and whisper sweet come-ons to each other.

Ellis knelt up a little, his head rolling back as Nick’s lips moved across his chest, purring against the smooth skin. He carded his fingers through the thin hair at the back of Nick’s head, scratching his scalp lightly. And Nick responded in kind, slipping his hands beneath the band of Ellis’ boxers and pushing them over the curve of his rump.

“Jeez, Nick,” panted the kid, gasping as his erection finally sprung free from his underwear. He gave his lover a slight smile before backing off the couch to fully undress, pulling off Nick’s briefs while he was up. Another purr left this throat as he stood up before the older man, looking at him with a cheeky smile as he caught those green eyes rake up and down his naked body. “Like what’chu see, mister gamblin’ man?”

Nick responded by licking his lips, gesturing to his erect cock. “What do you think?”

Ellis bit his lip and reached to the floor for his coveralls, his mind going back to the lube in his pocket he’d unpacked from the groceries earlier. Guess they were going to be using it sooner than he thought. “Tingling lube, Nick?” He held it up in his hand.

“I’d try anything once,” shrugged the conman, by now rubbing himself.

The sight urged Ellis on, not wanting to wait any more for the both of them. Not breaking eye contact with his lover, he slowly got down on his knees until he was between Nick’s legs, the man’s erection rising to greet him. There was a knowing glow to Ellis’ blue eyes and Nick recognised it instantly – it had sent his arousal spiralling many a time before. There was only a small flash of a boyish grin from Ellis before he took a hold of Nick’s cock and guided it to his lips, teasing the head with his tongue as if licking up ice cream.

“God damn it, El,” huffed Nick as his head fell back, eyes closing. It wasn’t frustration – anything but – it was more a realisation and rediscovery of how kinky and dirty Ellis could get. His tongue could work true worldly wonders on whatever part of Nick’s body he decided to lavish with it. At the moment, it was curling around his dick head, tracing the dips and curves of the shaft, his eyes occasionally flicking up to give him a predator gaze. Nick returned it with a look of his own, one that begged Ellis for something else – silently so. Nick rarely begged out loud. Thankfully, Ellis took the hint, well versed in their mutual language, and came up for a small breather before sinking his mouth down onto his erection and bringing him in as far as he could.

If Nick hadn’t been aroused beyond hell, he would’ve been completely embarrassed by the noise that he’d made. Mind you, he took complete credit for how good Ellis was at giving blowjobs. Before they’d met, the mechanic had never sucked a dick in his life. While it did make for some awkward first times when Ellis would nearly choke on the length, mumbling timid apologies, now, two years down the line, he easily rivalled any Las Vegas whore who did it for a living. And Nick was proud to say it was from his own valuable teachings that Ellis picked it up so naturally. Like now as he swallowed Nick at the back of his throat like it was nothing. The conman couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment in their relationship when Ellis’ gag reflex had stopped working, but he was just glad it had.

Judging by his moans, he was very glad.

On one particularly good suck, Nick could feel the pleasure in his lower stomach start to coil up and acted quickly, reaching for his lover and tugging his hair gently. “Ngh, off…”

Ellis obeyed and pulled away, licking his lips and admiring the work he’d done. He was pretty pleased with himself to say the least if the grin on his face was any indication. But he wasn’t about to stop there. Gingerly, he picked up the lubricant one more time and squirted a little into his palm. “You were the one so keen to use this,” he reasoned, rubbing it between his hands and feeling it tingle already.

Nick gave a shrug, though had a smug look on his face. “Thought it might be fun.”

The younger man winked at him. “Well, let’s see, shall we?” He leaned in and wrapped his hand around Nick’s cock, paying close attention to his lover’s face. It was rewarding when the older man gasped, his hips melting back into the couch slightly, and gave a small chuckle.

“Shit… it feels kinda nice,” he surmised, and Ellis knew what would make it better. Gently, he began to move his hand up and down, slowly massaging and coating Nick from top to base. It was a move that seemed to meet with approval when Nick hissed and leant his head back. “Overalls,” he moaned, one of his hands going up to cover his eyes.

Ellis rested his chin on Nick’s thigh and watched him dreamily, his lubricated hand never stopping. There was something so delicious and satisfying about being the one to break the conman like this and also being the only one to see the more submissive, intimate side of him. The young Southerner flicked his gaze between Nick and his erection, purring as he watched it shine in the fiery orange glow. Moving it slightly towards himself, he subtly licked the head, tracing the tip with his tongue. “You had enough, yet?”

Nick’s mouth was open, breathing shallowly at all the sensations assaulting him at once. “Holy shit.”

With a triumphant smirk, Ellis moved up to kiss his boyfriend some more while at the same time climbing back aboard to straddle his lap. Moans and short breaths filled the room as well as the smacking of their kisses, the intensity growing by the second. Reaching around, Nick grabbed Ellis’ ass in a squeeze and tugged him closer, a dominant purr leaving his lips.

“Baby,” he crooned as one on his hands curved around the cheek, his finger finding and teasing Ellis’ pucker. The action had a desired effect when the hick gave a small whine, his backside cantering back into the touch.

“Yer a damn tease,” Ellis gasped and Nick just gave him a look that promised more. A promise he kept moments later when he penetrated the hole with one finger, teasing in a second not long after. And if Ellis thought he was winning the game of who could make their lover moan the loudest, then he was sorely mistaken as a particularly loud moan was torn from his lips.

Nick broke into a triumphant grin, opening his mouth against the younger man’s in a soft sigh of satisfaction. “Hold on tight, killer.”

Obediently, Ellis clasped his hands behind Nick’s neck and leant back on the man’s lap, using his knees to lift himself up a little. He levelled the gambler with a lusty look, pinching his lower lip between his teeth as he felt Nick’s hands part his behind and guide him down, gently and carefully. It was a frequently practised act for them to say the least and Nick knew exactly what Ellis liked, how to go about doing it and most importantly how to read his lover’s reactions perfectly. Right now, his eyebrows were pinched in concentration, the corners of his lips quivering a little as they gradually became joined together in the most intimate way possible. It amused Nick to no end.

“Feel good?” he asked around a chuckle, running both his hands up and down Ellis’s waist.

“Y-yeah,” replied the hick, showing Nick a smile of his own. “Sure does tingle.”

Nick was a sneaky bastard at the best of times and barely gave Ellis a chance to get used to the feeling before he bucked his hips up into Ellis roughly. The mechanic yapped and grabbed a hold of his lover’s shoulders while his mouth hung open. “Down boy,” he teased, making Nick smirk.

“Never heard you complain about that before,” the gambler chuckled before readjusting his grip and bouncing Ellis in his lap.

The mechanic soft moans filled the fire-lit room as he rode his lover’s cock like a practised rodeo rider. Nick bit his lip as he watched his young boyfriend’s face begin to relax, eyebrows pinching in pleasure and pillowed plush lips parting. Ellis could see just how much this was ticking Nick’s boxes and leant in to treat his lover to hot kisses. He began to pant against his mouth.

“You’re so fuckin’ good, Nick,” he purred, melting into a moan as he continued to grind his hips down. Nick let out a groan, and Ellis smiled as he went on. “So good to me… ain’t no one better than you, darlin’.”

Nick grunted as he pushed his shoulders more firmly into the couch and kept up the pace of his thrusts, trying to fuck Ellis into more talk just like that. “Yeah?” he responded, eyebrow twitching upwards. “Tell me more, sweetheart.”

Ellis opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a sudden strike to his prostate, bringing a gasp to his lips. “Christ. N-Nick… ain’t nothin’ better than when yer inside'a me. Y-you… you’re the best I’ve ever had…” The younger’s head tipped back as he desperately seek out that perfect angle again.

With a gasp of his own, Nick reached up and grabbed Ellis’s hair to give him a tug. “Say it again,” he husked while his gaze was transfixed down, watching his boyfriend ride him like he was so good at doing. Ellis was all too happy to oblige.

“Yer the best.. I’ve ever had,” he panted, feeling the sting of Nick’s hand on the back of his head. “I love ya so much… you get me so goddamn hot… ah, Lord, Nick!”

By now Ellis was rolling his hips like thunder in search of release, helped along when the older man offered him a hand, curling his fist around the mechanic’s cock and giving him something to fuck into. Nick was already lost in the heat as those song-like praises hit his ears but now that Ellis was taking control the way he was, the end was getting closer and closer. There was just something about his Southern lover spouting praise during sex the way he did that was like pornography.

Nick let go of Ellis’s hair and reaffirmed his hands on the younger’s hips. “El, I’m close,” he warned.

“Inside me,” Ellis replied, looping his arms around Nick’s neck once he settled into an angle that worked wonders for him. He panted against Nick’s lips. “Please!”

With a roar of pleasure, Nick’s fingers went white around Ellis’s hips as he hit a climax that touched every nerve in his body. He made good on Ellis’s wish and filled him up just as a long moan arrived from his lover, his cock convulsing between them as he released at last. Nick moved his hand back to pump him through his orgasm until Ellis humped his last and fell forwards. Nick caught him easily and shut his eyes.

“God damn,” he husked, feeling Ellis’s head nod a little before kisses were pressed to his shoulder. He looped his arms around his lover, brushing softly over the smooth and slightly sticky skin. Nick chuckled. “Guess that warmed us up, right?”

“Yeah.” Ellis eventually moved back and off to look at his lover, not wasting time to kiss him as their lust subsided. He then looked back out of the window at the blizzard that was blanketing the world in white. “Don’t look like it’ll let up anytime soon.”

Nick had just finished wiping them both off with a tissue, throwing it to the trash can across the room (and missing) before looking up also. “Reckon we’ll be doing this for a while, then.”

Ellis gave him a look. “Nick, if we’re gonna be spendin’ the entire snow storm havin’ sex then can I at least make some snacks first?”

The gambler snorted, reaching up to tuck a loose curl behind Ellis’s ear. Leaning into the touch, Ellis curled himself back into Nick’s side but not before reaching down to retrieve their previously forgotten blanket, wrapping them both up in a nest they would be reluctant to leave.

“Hey Nick?”

“Yeah?” The man opened one eye to peer down at him.

Ellis blushed, pushing his face into Nick’s neck. “You’re also the best at cuddlin’.”

Nick chuckled and brushed his lips against El’s temple softly. “It’s because I’m cuddling you, Overalls.”

#anonymous #nellis #l4d2 nellis #nick/ellis

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rentsturner · 4 years

Text

Bad Hair Day | Obi-Wan Kenobi

‘omg i would love a blurb of the reader being self conscious and obi proves they aren’t and maybe some smut in there’ // ANON

summary: reader gets a bad haircut but obi is there to comfort them. Angst then fluff. Gender neutral reader. Modern AU. sorry not gonna include smut, hope you don’t mind

wc: 1.5k

(a/n: tried to make this as inclusive as possible, hope there are no problems. First of the 300 follower celebration requests, will get more done soon. This takes place on an already bad day for the reader which is why they get so upset)

It wasn’t that the haircut was bad. It could be worse. But it was different. Very, very different. Your usual hairdresser had been off sick, replaced by a locum who seemed to know what she was doing, smiling happily and chatting away as she snipped and pulled at your hair.

But when you looked in the mirror afterwards, you realised with a twinge of horror that she had completely misunderstood your instructions. Your hair had never looked like this. The length, the style - it had all changed drastically.

Obi-Wan was out all day working, so when you returned home to your empty apartment, the new hair was all you could seem to focus on. Every time you passed a mirror, you couldn’t help but stop and stare, tugging at the ends of your locks. And the more you stared, the more your horror grew. You hated it. People would laugh behind your back, mutter about how wrong the style looked on you, silently judge you, and you couldn’t do anything to stop them.

Negative thoughts began to swirl around your head, pulling your deeper and deeper into a mental abyss, one that you could never hope to climb out from alone. But Obi-Wan wasn't here to comfort you. He wouldn’t be back for hours. Your heart twinged in sorrow as you thought of his cheerful smiling face, a smile that never failed to make your whole body tingle with happiness. But then the thought of Obi-Wan seeing your haircut panicked you. What if he didn’t like it?

Tears pricked at your eyes and you looked into the mirror one last time, before turning and running to your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you. Grabbing a beanie from the dresser, you pulled it roughly over your head, making sure all the strands were tucked inside and that none could be seen. With a sigh, you collapsed onto the soft covers, pulling the blanket over yourself and burying your face in the closest pillow. It smelt like your lover, all cinnamon and woodsmoke and it calmed you for a moment, the scent flooding your senses, comforting and familiar.

But soon the negative thoughts were back, and all encompassing. You shuddered as the worst case scenario flashed through your head. Obi-Wan would hate it, he wouldn’t love you anymore. You were sure of it. The sadness and anxiety pulled you further and further down until you squeezed your eyes shut, tears rolling freely down your cheeks. Your body practically ached from the stress and tension, but you just curled up even tighter, willing yourself to fall asleep, just so you could stop panicking for a few hours. The arms of sleep welcomed you with a strong embrace.

~*~*~*~*~

A hand stroking your back woke you from your restless slumber, fingers slipping under your T-shirt to caress your skin gently.

‘I’m home, darling.’ Obi-Wan’s voice was deep, a little rough. He must have had a long day at work.

You relaxed into his touch for a few moments, ready to unfurl yourself and embrace Obi-Wan with a hug. But then you remembered the events of the day, and your body tensed up again. You rolled away from Obi-Wan, moving your hands up quickly to secure the hat still sat snug over your hair.

Obi’s eyebrow quirked up in confusion. Why were you wearing that? His hand reached out to touch the beanie, but when you flinched and grabbed hold of it even tighter, he pulled his hand back.

‘What is it, love? I don’t understand.’

You shook your head quickly, not wanting to draw attention to your hair. He couldn’t see it yet. He just couldn’t.

‘It’s nothing, everything is fine, promise.’

You smiled as brightly as you could, trying to make it look genuine. But Obi-Wan could see past that. His wide eyes searched your face, taking note of your own eyes, red and puffy from crying, your cheeks glossy with barely wiped tears, your hands shaking slightly as they tugged down on the beanie. He knew that everything was certainly not ‘fine’. Something was upsetting you, really upsetting you. His gaze settled on one lock of hair poking out the side of the hat, the one unruly strand that you hadn’t managed to tuck in. Everything clicked into place as he remembered you mentioning an appointment that morning.

‘Oh, darling. You had a hair cut this morning, didn’t you? Did it not go to plan?’

He settled cross-legged on the bed opposite you, moving slowly so it didn’t worsen your panicked state. Obi-Wan reached his hand out again, palm facing up, waiting patiently to see if you would take it.

You shook your head quickly and sighed. There was no point lying now he’d figured it out.

‘It’s not good, really not good. It looks horrible, Obi.’

Tears spilled from your eyes once again as a heavy sob wracked your body. You reached out for Obi’s hand, grasping it tightly.

‘Oh, love, come here.’ It was a barely audible whisper, but loud in the quiet room.

Obi-Wan wrapped one arm around your waist, the other flat against your back as you scooted over to him, his strong hands pulling you into his lap and against his warm chest. You buried your face there, clinging to his shirt and sobbing quietly. He shushed you softly, resting his chin on the top of your head. One hand moved to stroke your hair, before he remembered the circumstances and lowered it to squeeze your shoulder instead.

A few moments passed, Obi-Wan’s gentle words and soft hands slowly reducing your sobs into small sniffles. When your hand let go of his shirt to wipe some of your tears away, he felt it was time to make his move.

‘You’ve got yourself so worked up, darling, and I’m sure it’s not even that bad.’

His tone was soft, quiet, ready to back off at the slightest notion that you didn’t want to talk; upsetting you even more was the last thing he wanted.

‘Obi, please, it’s really bad, I’m telling you. You’re going to hate it, it looks awful.’

Your hand moved back to his shirt and gripped it even tighter. The urge to get as far away as possible and protect yourself warred with the need to cuddle even closer to find some comfort. Another sob threatened to wrack your body as you felt the insecurities creeping back in, even stronger this time.

‘Darling,’ he tried again. ‘Look at me, please.’

You reluctantly tilted your gaze up to Obi, eyes wide and glistening from tears that still threatened to spill.

‘Please can I see it?’

You shook your head rapidly and looked away, but Obi caught your face in his large palm and turned it back towards him, his thumb rubbing away tears gently.

‘Please, love. I’ll be honest, I promise you.’

A gentle smile, kind eyes, the face that you had been desperate to see all day.

When you didn’t shake your head, Obi-Wan moved his hand to tug at the beanie gently, a silent question, making sure you were completely comfortable with what he was about to do.

You nodded.

He pulled the hat back slowly, revealing your haircut in all its glory. You regretted letting him look almost immediately, tensing up, waiting for the fall to come.

But it never did.

Instead you felt a hand running over your head, tugging on the locks, untangling each strand gently before smoothing them down. You looked up at Obi, surprised to see a grin stretching across his face, cerulean eyes bright and wide. His gaze met yours.

‘Maker, you look amazing. I love it.’

His hand continued to play with the strands gently as you struggled to process his words. He loved it? But how? It was horrible! Your brain struggled to keep up, it didn’t make sense. He was saying it just to make you feel better. He had to be.

Obi-Wan noticed the expression on your face and chuckled, hands cupping your face and moving in closer to talk to you.

‘Darling, I’m really not joking. I truly love your hair, I think it suits you.’

His eyes were wide and imploring, that enormous smile still plastered across his face, all of his teeth showing. It was a genuine smile, you knew him well enough to be able to tell that. Maybe he was telling the truth.

‘Really?’

Obi-Wan giggled, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

‘Really.’ He mouthed the word against your skin, lips soft and warm.

Pulling back, Obi chucked once again and his fingers carded through your hair.

‘But I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with me playing with it all the time.’

A smile lit up your face, you finally believed him. If Obi-Wan liked your hair, then maybe it wasn’t that bad after all. It seemed you had been worrying for nothing at all.

#livs 300 follower celebration #sorry these are taking so long #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan blurb #obi wan imagine #obi wan oneshot #obi wan headcanons #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #star wars

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etihw000 · 3 years

Note

You, Boun, Ninja and Taxi were my inspo for doing character designs, though I have to ask, what was the logic of the fashion you gave when interpreting the skins back at like 2013/2014? I could never figure out how to get that 2010s mcyt aesthetic of designs.

i’m gonna put this here for future reference: i do not want to answer asks that mention taxey. so if anyone else had sent in an ask involving her i probably deleted it and will continue to delete them, sorry.

but you tickled a bit of my rambling bones because i do like to talk, and she is part of what happened (i will hereby refer to her as T); so here we go.

i think you can separate my designs into two eras: before-T and after-T. before T came around, my designs interpreted the skins pretty literally. here’s bodil, here’s sky/ty/mitch/jerome, here’s bashur, and here’s jason.

my explanation on this: i was 13 and didn’t really like challenging myself. i’m pretty sure i took jason’s design from dopier, for example. so i took the easy way route out on a lot of things!

but most notably, i didn’t want to draw complicated designs like sky’s. so the answer was very simple and clear: obviously, put it onto a sweater! i’m sure it was originally meant to be armor, but i didn’t want to draw armor. that’s too much thinking, too much highlighting, and i just wanted to pump out fanart for what i liked.

i didn’t like drawing checkerboards, so i switched them to lines.

i didn’t want to draw an anthro, so i just made it into a bear hat ala michael (i’m pretty sure this bear-type hat was more prominent in 2014, but it seems to have been simplified into just a hoodie with bear ears?).

i didn’t want to draw a humanoid watermelon nor did i even know where to begin with that, so i just drew bashur’s skin as a human and mirrored the design onto his hair and everything else was kept similarly.

it’s what happened with jason’s design - remember his astronaut-y outfit? yeah, i changed it to a hoodie shortly afterwards with an astronaut-y print. hated drawing that shit, challenging yourself is dead.

so in early 2014 (i came to the realization that i actually didn’t draw mcyt in 2013; i started drawing it in 2014), honestly just look at the skins you want to interpret and go with the simplest possible outcome. the end.

however, if you’re talking a bit later with the more unique designs - there was one notable thing that happened that caused it.

see, i was a cranky little 14 year old child who got way too much attention. and with that attention came people copying my art - and one of them was T.

i was highly uncomfortable at the time because, well, when you’re 14 you want to be unique as possible; you wanna stand out. and i was the only one who drew mcyt in this vaguely anime style way (because it wasn’t minecraft). and because we were all fucking weebs i assume people just started copying my art style wholesale.

see, people would mistake me for T. and vice-versa. i was extremely unhappy with this bullshit. “why are people mistaking me for this person,” i thought very unhappily to myself. and because i didn’t want to change my bloody art style, i decided designs were the way to go. so i went a bit crazy with it.

started out pretty simple. i cut ty’s shirt slightly differently (it still plagues his fanart to this day, i’m sorry ty). i gave bodil a beanie. everything was fine.

and then i still didn’t fucking want to draw checkerboards, so i just made a unique design for mitch. it followed with zek (the jacket on the right with the blue), who also had a checkerboard print.

i did not want anyone replicating what i did, because it pissed me the fuck off something fierce. and i don’t know nor do i remember this clearly, but i’m pretty sure T started doing the same damn thing anyway. and i’m pretty sure it’s only T, because when I talked with swift and jasie they didn’t remember doing this shit. it was literally the two of us and whoever happened to be watching us do it.

it wasn’t meant to be easy to replicate.

it was meant to be a bitch to replicate.

(i did it with rage too. the man didn’t even have a checkerboard skin. the long hair also plagues his fanart to this day, too. sorry rage.)

the other designs (ragegaming-era) were in 2015. and i was still the same angry 14-year old kid, especially since the T situation hadn’t gotten any better. we were still being mistaken for each other. people were genuinely confused about which of us were who and i don’t know how to explain to you how much anger was packed into my tiny 14 year old unsocialized body.

i genuinely still don’t understand it now because our art styles were fundamentally different.

so i pitch you this question: what happens if simple skins meet this anger at being copied when even the simpler prints intended to be a bitch to replicate end up being mimicked, especially when the person you didn’t want copying you followed you into a wholeass new fandom? (we were more divided than now; TC and Crew were two completely different fandoms lol; we didn’t generally unite ourselves under ‘mcyt’)

you end up with other weird attempts. strangely asymmetrical cuts. even more complicated patterns. i apparently hid these but it was hell, i tell you.

but i can assure you that the patterns on my designs were almost always symmetrical, albeit colored differently from the other side. the asymmetrical parts were different - a cut, a rolled up pant leg. something that you could do with a regular article of clothing. i know that in my circle there were some people that would have different length in shoes. i never did that. i would literally never write words on a shirt, too. i wasn’t one of those graphic tee people.

then i guess in late 2015 i got tired of it all and went back to the simple times of just not wanting to draw difficult designs before quitting altogether.

so you want to know what defined 2014 designs?

it was a 14 year old’s absolute anger at being copied to fucking death and having to be mistaken for other people.

i hope this helped and i am now going to choose to forget that i ever decided to answer this ask. not because it was a bad ask, but because i don’t like thinking about T in particular.

thank you for indulging my rambling bones. here’s a tl;dr for you:

Before-T designs (simpler)

the interpretations are literal.

if you can’t tell what’s going on, just make it a sweater and copy the patterns on the skin 1:1.

if there’s a different head (jason’s astronaut helmet, jerome’s bacca head) just make it a hood or a hat.

After-T designs (more difficult)

you still don’t wanna draw things out of your comfort zone, so stay out of the armor/anthro business.

give every design two layers - three at most.

you love hoodies :)

if the skin is simple, use slightly different shades to add patterns (i believe he had a plain blue hoodie and plain black pants).

want to be even MORE unique than before? add something asymmetrical. remove a sleeve, roll up a pant leg, or something, but never shoes or gloves. they are sacred and you shouldn’t do that to them.

idk someone pointed out that i was apparently allergic to necks because i kept giving designs chokers or scarves or whatever. they’re usually solid in color

#2013mcyt but make it crow #y'know i worried a bit that i would come off as this extremely salty asshole for writing this reply #but then i remembered that i was the asshole of the 2014 fandom so like whatever #ask #eta: i feel the need to clarify that the reason why i dont want to talk about her isn't just because i wasnt happy that she was mimicking me #the reason is something deeper and more personal lol!!!! im petty but not THAT petty

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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 4 years

Text

What We Did, pt. 25

Summary: After finding out you were pregnant, Bucky agrees to help you leave the hero life. The two of you go to Seattle, and hamper down for six months until you start dreaming of a certain someone. Convinced the dreams are a sign, you and Bucky go back to New York. Will everyone be happy to see the pair of you? What questions will they have? And will the lie Bucky and you made up finally resurface?

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my main bitch @childishhoebinoo again. THIS IS A BIT SHORT, SORRY!

Warnings: //cheating//pregnancy//ADULT STUFF//

masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Five: Special

The neighborhood was quaint, the neighbor’s kind and friendly; this was exactly the perfect place to raise a child. You were a little apprehensive at first, to even smile at your neighbors but Bucky insisted that everything was going to be fine. No one really knew who the two of you were or anything about your former lives; it made it easy to just be yourselves without the stigma of being a hero. No one knew, thus no one asked; it was nice. It really gave Bucky and you the opportunity to come out of your shells, which really showed how normal the two of you could be.

You stood at the end of the driveway, hands on your hips; Bucky was out doing some errands and the house was too quiet, so you decided to go for a walk. Wearing joggers, a tee, and comfortable walking shoes, you stepped away from the driveway and to your left. The house next store belonged to the Ramos family; they had two young children and two cats, who always managed to find their way over. Bucky took to living food out for them, which he went out to buy, near the garage door. Both parents, Rosie and Ben, were artists and took a more relax approach to parenting. Admittedly, you picked up a few tips from them because they were such great parents and they had become great friends to Bucky and you.

You walked past their house and continued your walk, talking your time. It was peaceful and you found yourself imaging walks with the baby; Bucky pushing the stroller as you strolled alongside him with a cup of tea. Cool mornings, cable sweaters and a beanie on the kid; it was everything you wanted but it was also a reminder of what was to come. Clint had decided not to return your calls, it had been a week since he called Tony and then radio silence on his end. You were not sure what he was thinking, and it did bring a level of anxiety onto you, but Bucky managed to keep you mostly busy.

Taking a deep breath, you decided not to think about any of it and continued on your walk around the block - stopping by Ben and Rosie’s for a quick chat when they saw you coming back to the house. They showed you a new painting they were working on together and you helped Rosie make lunch for the kids before excusing yourself.

“James should be home soon…”

Rosie grinned. “If that man comes home to find his pregnant wife missing, he’s going to lose his shit.”

Laughing, you agreed. “I better go.”

She walked you out and waved as you crossed back over to the house, you figured Bucky’s car would be in the driveway, but it was not parked in its usual spot. Instead, there was another car parked and the man leaning against the driver’s door made your heart drop. – it was Clint. He noticed you right away and pushed himself off the car. You took a deep internal breath, walked up to him, glanced down at the envelope in his hand, and asked what he was doing here.

“We could have done this over the phone, Clint,” you pointed out. He stood about a foot away from you and glared; he was pissed, it was obvious but so were you. “Bucky’s not here, I don’t feel comfortable doing this with you.”

“He has nothing to do with this,” he said, holding up the large envelope.

“I can say the same thing about Laura, then, can’t I?”

Clint’s face dropped and he shook his head. “This isn’t about her! How could you do this to me! That is my kid!”

He was right and you hated him for it – it was fucked up, but god, you hated him. You hated him for being there for you, on all those missions. Hated him for making you laugh and smile, and for making you want to do what you did that night. For crossing a line that had no return. Clint was a constant reminder of what you did and what the two of you did. If you could, you would make Bucky the biological father not Clint. If only wishes could come true.

“I wish you weren’t,” you said blankly, folding your arms over your stomach. Clint looked hurt but then his eyes seemed to focus in on something; your left hand was gripping your right arm and that is when he saw the wedding ring on your finger. It was not like you were hiding it, eventually everyone was going to find out and Clint needed to know.

“We got married last week, two friends of ours were witnesses.”

“…. you two go married. Why?”

You looked at him perplexed but knew what conclusion he was drawing up, because the two of you had thought the same – at least at first. Marrying Bucky had been an idea to give him a fighting change, the same say that Laura had by being Clint’s wife. In your blind attempt to keep Bucky from drowning, you wanted to marry him for all the wrong reasons. After he proposed, you knew marrying Bucky was not just the right thing to do; it was the only thing to do because you had fallen in love with him. Your heart belonged to him and it had for some time now, it had just taken your own foolishness to realize it.

Bucky was and would always be the love of your life – plain and simple.

“I married Bucky because I love him.”

“Marrying Bucky still doesn’t make him the father, I am,” Clint argued, pounding his hand to his chest. “I’m the father! Nothing’s ever going to change that, no matter how hard you wish it or who you marry.”

Heat rose to your face as you stood there, your hands came down to your sides and you glared at him before walking toward the front door. “Fuck you, Clint.”

“YOU DID, THAT’S WHAT GOT US HERE!”

Stopping in your tracks, your back straightened up and you turned to face him. He looked ashamed but he pretended to stand his ground as you walked back to him – inches from his face, you matched his eyes contact and knew clutched your fist.

“I fucked you because I didn’t have anyone I loved,” you whispered through your teeth. “If I had Bucky back then, I would have never even looked your way. There’s nothing special about you.”

As soon as the worlds left your mouth, you regretted them. It was painful to see the look on Clint’s face, knowing what you had just said to the father of your son. He had been your friend for so long, he was kind, funny, and had saved your ass plenty of times. He was special because he given you a child and all this pulling and pushing, it was doing no one any good. You held up a hand to your mouth and took a few steps back as tears fall from your face.

Clint stood quiet and still for a moment until he just nodded and took a deep breath. “I should go.”

You said nothing as he took the keys out of his pocket and turned to open the driver’s door, he got in and started the car. He doesn;t look at you as he reached out to close the door, but he does murmur something before shutting it. “Congratulations on the wedding.”

It is too painful to watch him drive off, so you turned and walked up to the front door. When the sound of his car fades into the background and everything is quiet, you turned to see an empty driveway.

....

What We Did tags: @the-yellow-girl96 @marvelouspottering @ravenclawrious @izzy10718 @castiels-sunflowers @joannie95 @crystlblu @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @canadianjelly @clockscountingbackwards @smollyssa @multifandomgirlrandomstuff @hazydespair @affabletimelady @daughterofthenight117 @star-incandescent @lost-in-the-stories@buckysboobear @bbkay7297-blog @theblueinyour-eyes

@butifulsoul125 @joebob24 @wowkenobi @vogueworthy-barnes @projectxhappiness @sarahp879 @mrshiddlesbatchstan @racheltheclumsy @insanitypledge @ayatimascd @mizzzpink @stangirl4eva @my-meant-to-find-blog @a–1–1–3 @coltcas @anon122010ns @loverontheweekend

@quietgeekygirl @asgardianmetalarmedtimelord @elevenismysweetie @the-lachrymose-one @queeeenofscots @huburtle @caseoffics @fucknpurplegrape @socialheartbreak @pebblesz892 @hiddeninthenightsky @ashkuuuu @justreadingfics @k-n-e @black-hats-cats-bats@midnightdream83 @shirukitsune @kcd15 @thenightshadequeen @bloodyproudpotterhead @chuuulip @dontneedbiologytoadopt @denise1605 @colie87 @marydragneell

@awkwardnesshabitat @grizabellasolo @smolandrare-coffee-bean @awkwardnesshabitat

Forever tags:

@theweirdlunatic @supernaturallymarvellous @dancewaterdance02@yeahbutmarvel @infinity1321

@my-amazing-nerdyness @naih-reedus @maciiiofficial @casownsmyass @jade-taillia @fangirlextraordinaire @indominusregina @feelmyroarrrr @my-rainbow-wonderland @myhopeisinfinite @girl-next-door-writes @melonberri @superisatomboyuniverse@dracsgirl @moonlight53 @makemyownwonderland @dreamwhisper87 @trekken81 @barely-emily@milkywaybarnes @goodnightwife @mishaissocoollike @foreverybodythatunderstands23 @gallifreyansass @flirtswithdanger

@myplaceofthingsilove @jchona @alyssaj23 @blackhoneybucky@urbanspacedecay @castieltrash1 @hannahsakorax3 @imagine-all-the-imagines @motleymoose @distinguishedqueenofbooks @kitkatgaming @fizzylollipop12 @iamwarrenspeace @darkmystress00 @lunarwolfrose @takemetoneverland91@sisinia13 @swiggityswagness @lianasparklezstuff

@takemetoneverland91 @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 @sarah-mos @rubynationwins @padfootorionblack @kaywolves @wonderlace19 @courtneychicken@rayleyanns @whatmakesmebeme-tblr @thewinterwitch @avengersgirllorianna@tatortot2701@brewsthespirit-blog @seabasschino @ex-bookjunky @travelwithwords@supernaturaldean67@thehuntchback @shoytai @besamiculo-puto @ign-is @zuni21798 @multipleuniversesinwriting @lauxeyson

@pleasantdreamqueen @damalseer @10kindsofderp @hennessy0274-blog @jodoethr @s-t-r-i-k-e-us @seeing-but-not-observing @happyskywhale @peekingsunshine@sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @cinema212 @geeksareunique @hercrazyfandomobsession @wildefire @sashavis @nosleeptillbucky @grace-for-sale @someonekindalikeyou @space-helen@sorenmarie87 @wickedsingularity @steve-rogers-personal-hell @wintersire @whatshernamemaria @theheadcanonsawakens

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@theflowerswillbloom @geeksareunique @crist1216

#what we did #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #clint barton x reader #bucky barnes #marvel #marvel imagine

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em0uvante · 3 years

Text

Amaranthine

Chapter three

TRIGGER WARNING:

- MENTIONS OF DEATH

- VIOLENCE

I love you all, enjoy.

"remember the sorting hat ceremony bubba?" i ask draco, interrupting his boring lecture. he grunts, ending his sentence.

"asshole, but yeah, i do. what about it?" he mutters the beginning, gradually getting louder.

"i don't know, i just want to go back. i miss it." i huff, laying my head on draco's lap.

"but we still go to this school? what do you mean?" he pets my hair gently, making sure not to pull on it.

"i don't know. i guess i want to go back in time, before everything went in the gutter." my eyes well up with tears which i pat away with my palms.

draco lifts me off his lap into his arms, holding me tightly. i quickly wipe my tears on his clothed shoulder. i sit back up. draco takes my chin in between his index finger and thumb, staring into my eyes. his soft lips meet my cheek, cooling my nerves. i let out a prolonged sigh, eyes closing shut.

"it's over now annie, you're safe know. i'll never leave your side. promise." draco holds out his pinky finger, i take it in mine. our foreheads meet, resting against each other.

"sorry i got your shirt all wet." i sniffle waiting for draco to reply.

"i wasn't gonna say anything because you're sad, but yeah, pretty gross." we share a low chuckle, draco pokes at my side. i squirm myself off his lap, falling to the floor. draco only points his finger and laughs.

"you are so mean! ugh, why do i have to live with you?" i shout from the floor, draco holding out his hand to pick me up.

"well, i have to go to potions, and you need to get yourself to herbology. walking with me or not annie?" he slides his robes on, waiting for an answer.

"yeah, i'll walk with you. but only because you have no other friends." i stick my tongue out at him, face contorting in a confused manner.

"says you! i'm your only friend you prune," he remarks stubbornly. "and for your information, i have blaise, and- um..." draco trails off while i collect my belongings for class. i shake my head at him, chuckling to myself. i hear a subtle knock on the door. my eye rests against the peephole.

"hey mister popular, astoria greena- i mean uh astoria greengrass. she's behind the door, waiting for you."

"oh! i didn't know she was stopping by." he scrambles to ruffle out his hair. my eyes roll to the back of my head out of disgust. astoria greenass has draco wrapped around her finger.

the pair met when they were put together for a potions project last year. he was amazed by her beauty, and fell head over heels in love with her. this is what i assume, of course. they have been inseparable since. i'm not sure why, but i really really hate astoria.

"your hair looks fine bubba." i say, peeking my head out of the bathroom where i was hiding from the devil herself.

"don't call me bubba! astoria is here!" he whisper-shouts, opening the door for astoria. draco's pale complexion lights up when he sees astoria's. i feel a wave of heat flows down my spine. her presence ignites a strong fire inside of me.

astoria is wearing her robe, tie, and her long brown locks are tied with a emerald colored ribbon. i don't know why draco fancies astoria to such extent. although, her lack of personality and gorgeous genes are probably enough for him.

"pepperpup! i missed you so much!" draco engulfs her into a hug, astoria wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"aw i missed you as well babe." she replies, kissing his cheek softly. i notice draco's face turn beet red when her lips touch his upper jaw bone.

"babe? i didn't know you guys were snogging! good thing draco got headgear when he did." i wittily interrupt. their heads whip around towards the couch, huffing at my comment.

"we're no-"

"indeed we are. we have been for a month today." she grins, pulling draco into her arms for the second time today. draco's face goes blank, his eyes glued to my hands. which were fiddling with the snake ring on my left middle finger.

"oh really? that's so cool! i'm thrilled for you both," i manage to mutter out, counting down from fifty in my head to control my growing rage. "anyway, i have to go to class. have a good day you two. i'll see you tomorrow for the quidditch game." i quickly gather my bag and sprint out the door, slamming it behind me.

(ONE HOUR AND FORTY-SEVEN MINUTES LATER)

"are you feeling alright darling? you look, sickly." my friend aera asks. her hand caresses mine in a soothing manner, snapping me back into reality.

"yeah! i'm good. wanna grab something to eat? i'm starving." aera's fingers stop and her face holds an unconvinced look. aera is far too intelligent to believe my lies.

"do you think i'm a bloody imbecile? i insist you tell me what dilemma you are facing this instance." she states, all whilst lacing her shoes to go to dinner.

"no i don't, but there is nothing wrong with me aera. really." she raises her eyebrow quizzically. her alluring eyes stare deeply into my soul, searching for the truth. aera's head slowly turns as the rest of her body goes still.

"fine! draco and astoria are dating but i hate her stupid brat face! ugh, i hate her so much!" i scream, allowing anyone in the common room to hear.

"divulge me in your problems. toni, why do you loathe her to such extent?"

"i literally have no idea. maybe because draco is obsessed with her, and is a dickhead to me when she is around. or because draco calls her pepperpup, god that's so stupid. pepperpup, like she's a fucking dog. i'm sorry, excuse my language, they just make me so angry!" my feelings pour out into the world while i scream my lungs out. aera just stays silent and nods her head, waiting for me to finish.

"thank you for sharing with me. let's head to dinner." she takes my hand in hers and leads me to the great hall, which is jam-packed full of ravenous students.

"can we eat in your dorm? i don't want to sit by him tonight." i ask, hiding my face in the beanie i'm wearing.

"i'm afraid not hun. besides, i have a date tonight. goodbye!" with that, aera is gone like the wind. just like that i'm standing by myself in the middle of the great hall.

i try my best to be discreet while getting my dinner plate. ham, carrots, a bun and some mash are what i grab to eat. after gathering my food, i eat it as fast as possible making sure not to draw attention to myself. i hear blaise call my name, meaning draco was near. i turn my head to the person next to me, pretending to be in a conversation.

as i'm trying to 'converse' with the girl next to me, i feel a harsh tap on my shoulder. i look up to find blaise zabini roughly tapping me, signaling for me to sit with them. them being blaise, pansy, astoria, and draco.

"nettie! come on and sit with us mate! draco won't stop asking for you." he mumbles the last part so only i could hear. i shrug, pick up my plate and walk over to the group. draco's glum expression lights up, his eyes filling with joy.

"nice to see you again antoinette! we were just chatting about the quidditch game tomorrow. ravenclaw versus slytherin! should be a good one." astoria states, her bright smile never dropping. i ball my fist when i hear my full name come out of her mouth.

"don't ever call me antoniette you dumb bitch!" i shout, standing up from my seat. my hand nearly collides with her face, but someone's hand stops it. draco's eyes bore into mine, telling me to calm down. i let my hand fall back to my side, the same angry expression plasters my face.

"i-i'm sorry, i didn't know! i swear!" astoria cries, pansy holding her tightly. the disappointed face on pansy grows.

"if you didn't know, maybe you could have fucking asked! did you not notice the fact that nobody around calls me fucking antoinette!?! jesus christ astoria, are you that fucking stupid!?!" i scream, tears spilling from astoria's eyes. i feel like i could punch a hole into the earth with my one fist.

"oh my god toni, take a rest. you sound fucking crazy." blaise says calmly, only fueling my fire more. i hate that word, hate it. draco knows that. i tilt my head to the side, thinking of all the ways i could kill everyone at this table. draco clears his throat, finally stepping in.

"annie, let's go to our room. i'm growing very sleepy. come on darling." he takes my hand in his, but i pull back from him.

"are you fucking joking? i will tie your brain stem to your shoe laces, you stupid fucking idiot. god, why are you friends with such brain dead morons? call me crazy again zabini, do it. i dare you. come on, little bitch, do it! i'll kill yo-" draco looks at me again, signaling that he needs me to leave with him.

"what, you can't take being called crazy? astoria didn't know any better! what, are you mental?"

"blaise, enough! i can't believe how fucking childish you're being right now. fucking prick." draco shouts at him, blaise flinching at his harsh words. i'm already halfway across the great hall, taking my plate with me. draco runs to catch up with me, not looking behind himself once.

(12 MINUTES LATER)

"annie, you okay in there? i'm sorry about what blaise said. it was out of hand." draco knocks on the door gently. three knocks. just like mum. i hate when he does that.

i'm crying when draco started knocking on the bathroom door. i quickly wipe my eyes and let myself out. i sit down on the satin green couch.

"i'm completely fine draco. it was my fault. i'm a horrible monster, just like mother said." i state calmly, grabbing my wand polish. draco shakes his head and sits down next to me.

"don't be like that annie. don't try to hide your feelings from me." he takes the wand polish from my hand. i give my attention to him, which i know is what he wanted.

"she didn't deserve that. i know she didn't mean any harm. she's a real sweetheart. i'm just an asshole." i admit, twirling a piece of hair between my fingers.

"you're not an asshole, annie. you can't control it. i know that, they don't."

"that's beside the point. i'm a bad person. that's the truth and it always fucking will be. astoria did nothing wrong." i get up, pacing around the room.

"she triggered you, whether she meant it or not." draco grumbles, pulling his hair loosely.

"it's fine. it's over now. i'm going back to my room." i get up and head out.

"annie, don't go. we need to talk." he mumbles, standing up from his spot on the couch.

"draco there's nothing to talk about. you and astoria are dating, you didn't tell me, and your friends are douches. goodnight." and with that, i'm out of the door, heading to my own room.

(14 MINUTES LATER)

after taking off my school clothes i run a bath for myself. i grab the bath salts i bought from hogsmeade and sprinkle some in. i let the lavender scented salts absorb me completely, taking in the fragrance.

after the water is warm enough, i gently slide into the tub. the water relaxing my tense muscles. a long sigh leaves my mouth as i lather soap onto my body. once i rinse it off, i submerge myself under the water, making my body feel still and peaceful.

peace. something i never get to feel. water is peaceful. so calm and tranquil. maybe if i drown myself, the water will let me be peaceful. that's a good idea. death will make me peaceful. i want it so fucking badly. but i will never will.

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