#the society fic
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Sam x Grizz - ‘I have, as it were, my own sun and moon and stars, and a little world all to myself’
Grizz and Sam baby sit Eden, Sam works on Grizz opening up.
Once again I started this like two years ago and only just got around too finishing. Not so sure on this one but let me know.
enjoy! x
also posted on ao3;
https://archiveofourown.org/works/42291975
Sam was leaning against the doorframe of Becca’s room, smiling from ear to ear. His eyes were lit up, watching the boy across the room. Sam couldn’t believe this scene was real, he couldn’t believe that this was his life. Grizz was swaying Eden about, bobbing her up and down ever so slightly. She was cooing slightly, but only loud enough for Grizz to hear. Sam had agreed to babysit Eden whilst Becca was visiting Kelly. He wasn’t sure for what, the two of them had gotten closer the past few weeks. Becca wouldn’t tell Sam, like so many things, but Sam didn’t want to probe or push. Luckily for him, the absence of Becca meant that Sam would be able to witness this sight. Eden being cradled in Grizz’s arms, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Sam had been watching the two of them for a while, Grizz unaware that he was being watched. He didn’t want to disturb them, not quite yet.
“You’re good with her, better than me.” Sam started to move towards the two, almost tiptoeing towards his boyfriend. Grizz turned around slowly, giving Sam a small smile.
“I doubt that Sam.” Shaking his head, Grizz turned his attention back to Eden.
“I’m serious. She loves you.” Sam signed this, putting emphasis on the sign for ‘love’.
“Maybe she just has good taste.” Grizz shrugged, before checking Eden was settled and placed her back into her cot. He watched her for a moment until she was still again and turned back to Sam leading him to perch on the edge of Becca’s bed.
“You had any practice?” Sam signed this quickly, knowing that Grizz would have no trouble understanding him. His sign language had got so good recently, Sam wouldn’t be surprised if he was better than he was now.
“Pfft, no!” Shaking his head, Grizz stretched himself out, clearly feeling a little tired from the babysitting. Before New Ham, babies weren’t even on Grizz’s radar. Before Sam, they weren’t on his radar. Sam had changed him. Not for good but not for bad either.
“You...urm, your parents didn’t want any more kids?” Sam’s childhood wasn’t exactly easy, having Campbell as an older brother made sure of that. Sam could barely remember a time when they did get a long, Campbell always seemed resentful of Sam. He hated him, that was plain as day. But it wasn’t like he had a terrible childhood. His parents loved him, always tried their best, supported him – even if they did ignore a lot of the signs from Campbell. Maybe it was jealously with Campbell, he was the oldest and then Sam came along, took away all of the attention. It was worse when Sam lost his hearing, even more attention was given to Sam. Attention that was taken away from Campbell.
“Wha-I guess, yeah. I think my mum would have liked one. But…I was fine on my own. It was easier not to I guess.” Grizz never really thought about having siblings, maybe he wouldn’t have mind a brother or sister but that wasn’t really on his radar. What he said was right though, it was just easier only being Grizz. Maybe his mum would have liked some more kids though, she was so good with kids. But with Grizz’s dad? Grizz couldn’t think of anything worse.
“You dad.” Sam nodded, understanding why Grizz never had any siblings. It was safe to say that Grizz’s dad wouldn’t have welcomed another addition to their little family. Thinking about Grizz’s childhood upset Sam, even without knowing the whole truth. It made him realise how lucky he was with his parents. They were a constant support, always there for him, as much as they could be. Maybe they should have done more for Campbell. Maybe they should have done. But there was no point wallowing over it now. They were gone and Sam just had to do better for Eden.
“Yeah, my dad.” Grizz repeated, avoiding Sam’s eyes. He clearly didn’t want to think about that any longer than he needed to. Maybe Sam shouldn’t have mentioned it, maybe it was still quite raw. Grizz didn’t really speak about his family, especially his dad. Sam had thought they’d reached a point where they could be completely honest with each other. But maybe some things were just too hard to talk about. Sam had to understand that.
Sam thought for a moment, he wondered whether he should steer the conversation in a certain direction. He knew he probably wouldn’t have another chance, especially as any time he had tried to mention it, Grizz had managed to avoid the question and change the subject. “I guess you could say you already had brothers.”
“Sam?” Looking quite bewildered, Grizz turned to Sam trying to gage what he was saying. Maybe it was a bit of stretch, Sam thought afterwards, but he had to try, right?
“Like Luke…” There, he’d done it. Sam wasn’t scared of what Grizz’s reaction might be, but he was wary of upsetting him. He didn’t want to upset Grizz, he never wanted to hurt him again, especially after last time. But this was important, and they needed to talk about it.
“Sam, not this again.” Grizz sighed, crossing his legs. He was tired of Sam trying to mention Luke in almost every conversation they had. He didn’t want to talk about Luke, he didn’t want to think about Luke. It was easier just to ignore it all, be in his own little bubble with Sam. That’s what he wanted. Although he doubted, he would be able to ignore it all for much longer. Things were getting worse. And it probably wasn’t going to stop there.
“Grizz, just listen-“
“No!” Grizz shouted out louder than he had expected, surprising himself. Eden, who had been completely silent up until this point, started to cry quite loudly. Realising what he had done, Grizz rushed over to Eden’s cot before Sam had even realised that Eden had woken up. “Oh shit, sshh shh.” Cradling her so delicately, Grizz managed to quiet her down, although Sam doubted Eden would go back to sleep now. “I shouldn’t swear in front of her, should I?”
Sam shrugged, walking over to where Grizz was holding Eden, desperately trying to get her back to sleep. “She doesn’t understand you.” it was true, he doubted Eden understood a word anyone said. Becca had started to attempt to teach Eden simple words or even sounds but hadn’t been successful yet. They’d get there eventually, but for now it was easier for Eden to just make those strange sounds. She was still only a few months old. Sam had read in one of the baby books Gordie had found for him after Eden had been born, that babies start to talk around ten months old, so there was still time. There was just a little nagging feeling at the back of Sam’s brain that for some reason Eden wouldn’t talk.
“You gonna teach her to sign?” Still cradling Eden, bobbing her up and down, Grizz looked directly at Sam when he spoke, knowing he couldn’t sign whilst holding Eden. Grizz had been trying his best to sign more than talk with Sam, which Sam had appreciated but he hadn’t expected it. Grizz enjoyed learning ASL, he wished he had done it sooner.
“It’s a bit early for that, she hasn’t even said her first word yet.” Sam moved to play with Eden, now cooing quietly, she grabbed his index finger with her tiny hand, squeezing it. He sometimes forgot how tiny she really was, she was growing every day, that was true, but she was still so small. So delicate.
“I know what it’s gonna be.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Grizz, obviously.” Grizz couldn’t help but give Sam a cheesey grin, to which the boy beside him shook his head. He loved it when Sam did that, when he almost managed to not smile or laugh at Grizz. He was pretty good at it most of the time, but sometimes he let it slip.
“How so?”
“You said she loves me. So I figure, if I just keep repeating my name, it’ll go in her head.”
“Think it’ll work?”
“Yeah. That, or I guess I’ll just keep you around. You say my name enough.”
“You’re an idiot.” Sam didn’t smile at Grizz this time, but that little twinkle in his eye that always appeared whenever he was around Grizz decided to make an appearance. He just couldn’t help it. Sometimes Sam wondered what he had done to ever be this happy. It odd, when he thought back to when the fear and worry was rampant throughout New Ham. That seemed like another world, another century, just so far away. Not that there wasn’t still fear and worry, but not so much for Sam. Not in this moment.
“But you love it.” Grizz mused as he placed Eden back in her crib once again. This time, Sam was sure she wouldn’t wake back up. She was too settled now.
“Maybe.” Sam shrugged, giving Grizz a devilish smile. “See, she never goes down that quickly with me.”
“Well-“
“It’s like she knows.” Sam avoided Grizz eyes when these words escaped his mouth. He was just thinking aloud, really. But this had been in his mind for a while. Clearly, she didn’t know, Eden was just a baby. But that self-doubt, that feeling of a lie, Sam just couldn’t shake it.
“What do you mean?” Confused, Grizz shook his head, not understanding. Sam raised his eyebrows at Grizz, waiting for the pin to drop. It soon did, to which Grizz, clearly embarrassed, started to go red. “Oh.” He hadn’t thought about Eden’s parentage much, but thinking about it in that moment, he supposed it had been on Sam’s mind constantly. Grizz couldn’t really imagine how he’d react. He didn’t know if he would have made the same choices as Sam, but he couldn’t judge him for it.
“Yeah.” Sam nodded slowly, he thought it was obvious what he was trying to say. It wasn’t as if he had bored Grizz to death with his tales of woes, but Grizz knew Sam wasn’t her dad. He must have had some idea what Sam was feeling, what was going through his mind.
“She’s a baby, Sam. And that doesn’t matter. You’re her dad, in every other way, right?”
“I don’t know…”
Knowing it wouldn’t be a good idea to keeping going over this, Grizz quickly changed the subject. “Becca still hasn’t told you?” Grizz realised the question seemed a little more intrusive than he meant it to be. He couldn’t blame Becca for not wanting anyone to know; teenage moms always got judged and that wasn’t fair. But he understood how hard it was for Sam, too. Becoming a father to a kid whose father could be living just across the street.
“I don’t want to know. That’s her business. But…” It wasn’t fair for Sam to probe or push Becca. He had to no right to do that. He couldn’t demand to know, and he didn’t want to do that. If Becca was going to tell Sam, she would, and only when she was ready.
“I get it.”
“It’s stupid, it’s selfish.”
“No…Sam, you’re not either of those things.” Grizz would never have described Sam using either of those words, quite the opposite. “I don’t think that. Becca doesn’t nor does Eden.”
That made Sam smile, rolling his eyes at how giddy he felt whenever he was in Grizz’s company. Grizz could always make things seem better, whenever Sam was feeling down. It would probably take some more time for Sam to really believe what Grizz was saying. But he appreciated it. He appreciated him. His boyfriend. That word, it still seemed strange that Sam had a boyfriend. That his boyfriend was Grizz. Sam moved to give Grizz a small peck on the lips, not expecting anything in return. He just wanted Grizz to know how important he was to him, how much he appreciated him. No, not appreciated him. He did, he loved him. He loved Grizz.
“I saw, Helena, yesterday.”
“Sam…” This time, Grizz didn’t shout, he didn’t raise his voice. He spoke softly and signed Sam’s name slowly. Maybe he was tired of Sam constantly bringing the situation up or maybe he was coming round to the idea.
“She wasn’t too happy, she’s been struggling.” Sam took this as a good sign and carried on, not wanting to waste the moment. Now, this wasn’t a lie. Sam had seen Helena. He saw her only a few days ago when Sam had taken himself for a walk. Becca was making lunch for Eden and Sam saw it as a good opportunity to get some air and some space. The past few weeks had been a lot and Sam just needed some time alone. He was walking up near Helena’s house when he saw her, outside, sitting on her porch. It was true that she didn’t look too good, she had clearly been crying. They only spoke for a few minutes, but that was enough time for Sam to know he needed to persuade Grizz. Grizz was the answer.
“So has Luke.” Grizz huffed, as if he was ready to argue but didn’t say or do anything. He just listened. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but you should talk to him.”
“Why should I? He hasn’t come to me.” Grizz looked hurt, it was clear to Sam that they couldn’t ignore what had happened forever. It was clear to Sam that Grizz was struggling, hurting because of everything. It wasn’t fair on Grizz, it wasn’t fair on Sam or even Luke. Something had to be done. Grizz, who was now completely avoiding Sam’s eye and fiddling with his loose shoelace, was clearly angry about the situation. Maybe he was angry at Sam for constantly mentioning it, but if Sam didn’t, it would never be solved.
“It’s stupid and you know it. Don’t do something you’ll regret.” Sam hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but the sentiment was there. What Luke had done was shitty, it was awful, but this couldn’t go on forever. For the sake of everyone. “Please. You know it’s right.” Sam was pleading with Grizz now, and he couldn’t ignore that. He knew that.
“Okay, okay, You don’t need to beg, Sam. I get it.”
“You can stubborn when you want to be.”
“And you can be persistent when you want.” Grizz laughed, a genuine laugh. Sam loved it when he laughed, when his face lit up, when he smiled. But it didn’t last long, his smile soon turned into a frown. “But I can’t, Sam. I can’t do it.”
“Why?”
A cry escaped from Eden’s cot, Grizz noticed and started to move. “I thought she’d stay asleep.”
Sighing and wishing she could have stayed quiet for even a minute more. “I’ll go.” Sam moves over to comfort her before Grizz could avoid this conversation any more than he was trying to.
“You should be the bigger person. You’re not talking to him now; you’re avoiding him and almost everyone else apart from us. What do you have to lose?” Sam signed this before picking Eden up, cradling her slowly in his arms. Grizz was way better than Sam at this, it just came naturally to him. For Sam, not so much.
Grizz didn’t want to argue with Sam, not anymore. He knew Sam was right, even if he didn’t quite want to admit it. And he missed Luke, he could say that at least. Things weren’t the same without him. He was still angry, still confused. He didn’t like to think about what had happened. But the more time passed, the less he could ignore it. “Okay, okay… fine. I’ll talk to him.”
“Now?”
“Well, not now. I’m doing a very important job.” Grizz slowly walked up to the two standing by the crib. He loved to watch Sam with Eden. He knew Sam found it hard sometimes, he understood the importance and responsibility but also the burden. Not that Sam would ever truly admit that, not even to Grizz.
“Oh, and what’s that?”
“Becoming Eden’s favourite person.” Grizz moved his hand to delicately stroke Eden’s cheek, a little hiccup appeared from her mouth which made both Sam and Grizz smile.
“Okay, but after, yes?” Sam moved back, Eden still in his arms, giving Grizz a meaningful look. He trusted Grizz, he’d trust Grizz with anything, but he just needed to hear him to say the words.
“Yes, Sam, after. I promise.” Grizz gave Sam a small smile, one that meant so much more than the two realised. Sam had Grizz wrapped around his little finger, but that didn’t bother Grizz one bit. Not at all.
#the society#sam x grizz#grizzam#grizz x sam#the society fic#the society fanfic#the society fanfiction#grizzam fic#grizzam fanfic#grizzam fanfiction#mine#my writing#I have as it were my own sun and moon and stars and a little world all to myself
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Back at it with my enchanted merthur shenanigans
#when Merlin goes to work#(I am undecided on what he does but I think he does have a job (probably a librarian I’d that’s not TOO cliche…))#he sets Arthur up with a bunch of history books and documentaries to try get him up to date (as much as he can)#and in the evenings they watch all Merlin’s favourite tv shows and movies#I can’t pick what kinds of movies Merlin and Arthur like#I get the feeling they both like pride and prejudice but I’m also biased#I think Arthur would like murder mysteries#ALSO If anyone’s got any fics where Merlin introduces Arthur to modern society please please PLEASE GIVE THEM TO ME#my art#bbc merlin#merlin#merlin emrys#arthur pendragon#merthur
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Some Advice For People Leaving Comments on Fanfics:
“I liked your fic”
Nice, but basic and easy to overlook
Doesn’t compel the author to do anything other than take the compliment
Sounds like you might be a bot (ew)
“I am going to eat your floorboards!”
Unique and attention grabbing
Makes me second guess whether I should have bought that insurance
Sounds like you might be a termite (how did a termite learn to type????)
#(This is satire all comments are nice)#happy floorboard chomping friday!#floorboard chomping fridays#happy floorboard chomping Friday Tuesday#floorboard chomping friday#mbs fanfic#tmbs fanfic#the mysterious benedict society#mysterious benedict society#tmbs#mbs disney#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#ao3 tags#fanfiction#fanfic#archive of our own#fanfic writing#fic writing#ao3#ao3 stuff
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congrats to ao3 for the site traffic the good omens fandom is about to bring them this week
#the fix-it and hurt/comfort fics are about to go CRAZY#good omens#good omens 2 spoilers#good omens spoilers#gos2 spoilers#Good omens season 2 spoilers#I am so looking forward to them I love you ao3 writers you are the backbone of society and my free therapy#I'm also excited for the ineffable bureaucracy fics about to come out of this#LET'S GO TEAM
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every time i go through the end of ew and see the cs with zenos in sharlayan i have to stop and imagine his conversation with that customs lady at the docks when she asked what his job was and he would have gone off on one of his typical monologues about living for 'the hunt, the THRIIIIIIIIILL of bahttle the raw pulsing ecstacy of being locked together in combat, teeth at each other's throats, giving in to the huungaahh that can never be sated' etc etc and she would have been like uh huh so you're unemployed hmmm i see
#ffxiv#ffxivmp#mp#zenos#writes on her clipboard: gay but in a cringe way#every zenos monologue is his self insert fic of him and the wol#and he is just going around giving free performances of it to anyone unfortunate enough to be caught near him#also this is why the idea of zenos surviving and being forced to help the scions is so funny#not his interactions with the scions#but his futile and begeudging attempts to live in a society#boy has to do paperwork and deal with bureaucracy and that is comedy gold potential
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⌜ 𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑺𝑶𝑺: gangbang [declaro oficialmente aberto meu período fértil slk], fwb, diferença de idade, bebida alcoólica, cigarro [cuidado com os pulmão preto], dirty talk, degradação, elogios e dumbification, oral masculino, dacryphilia, bukkakke(?), breast/niple play, um tapinha na bochecha e um ‘papi’ [me perdoem eu não me controlo], dupla penetração, anal, sexo sem proteção [no puede no]. Termos em espanhol — guapo (bonito, etc), dímelo (me diz), díselo (‘diga a/para’), porfi (informal pra ‘por favor’) ˚ ☽ ˚.⋆ ⌝
꒰ 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑨 𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑨 ꒱ me perdoa se eu sou uma p****
𓍢ִ໋🀦 VOCÊ DEITA A CABEÇA NO OMBRO DE FRAN, AS PERNINHAS REPOUSANDO POR CIMA DO BRAÇO DO SOFÁ ─────
— Vai me dar uma carona? — reitera, embora já tenha escutado a oferta diversas vezes antes, durante e agora, no pós do rolê. Sempre pegava carona de moto com o Recault.
Ele, sentado no outro sofá, adjacente, não desvia a atenção do maço de cigarro, capturando com os lábios uma unidade. Uhum, murmura, e quando risca o isqueiro, você estica a mão pra roubar o pito, guardar de volta na embalagem. Aqui dentro não, alega, vai lá fora com eles.
O olhar do argentino segue em direção à sacada do apartamento, onde os homens conversam enquanto fumam. Poderia, sim, de fato, se levantar e participar do assunto facilmente, afinal é a opção mais favorável pra narizinhos tão sensíveis quanto o seu e de Romero, porém um pensamento diferente do desejo de pitar toma conta da mente.
— E sobre eles... — Volta os olhos pra ti. — Já vai embora mesmo? Não ia... sabe?
Um sorrisinho ameaça crescer no seu rosto. Sabe exatamente a que ele se refere.
— Não sei... — mas prefere fazer chamar, encolhendo o corpo. A barra do vestido justo se embolando no seu quadril.
— Ah, qual foi? — o garoto devolve. Se inclina de leve, chega mais próximo pra poder ir sussurando. — Não vai me dizer que tá tímida... — E você cobre parte do rostinho com a palma da mão, respondendo perfeitamente às expectativas alheias. Matí sorri também. — Ah, vai, eu e o Fran ‘tamo aqui... Não precisa ter vergonha de nós, não é como se não tivesse dado pra gente antes. E eles... — espia os outros dois, entretidos demais na conversa que têm pra poder perceber que são assunto da discussão vizinha. — Eles são de boas. Vão te tratar feito uma piranha, que nem você gosta.
Você verga o pescoço pra trás, tenta encarar Romero, o qual bebe um gole da cerveja na garrafa.
— Fran, o Matí me chamou de piranha...
Francisco coça a nuca, cogitando as palavras pra responder, e acaba sendo o mesmo abusadinho de língua venenosa de sempre.
— E ele mentiu?
Tsc, você resmunga. Não é que queria ser defendida nem nada, não se pode esperar outra resposta senão essa mesmo. É só pela manha, pelo suspense que vem fazendo desde um certo momento, desde que vieram pro apê de Romero depois de sair. Encontraram com dois amigos dos garotos num bar e estenderam o ócio pra mais algumas horas no conforto dos sofás largos e da madrugada quente.
Tudo muito calculado, você tem certeza, assim que Matías menciona, com a cara mais lavada possível. Já é contatinho fixo dele, Fran entrou no meio mais tarde, trazendo sua personalidade atrevidinha e melosa. Agora, os outros dois...
Quer dizer, são um colírio pros olhos. Esteban, retraído, tem um olhar que beira o poético, um sorriso de lábios finos e uma fragrância tão agradável ao olfato que quando o abraçou naquele bar, cumprimentando, quis que ele não te soltasse nunca mais. E Enzo, igualmente mais contido, ostenta um charme old hollywood, com os cabelos espessos, acumulando atrás da orelha, mas casual também, de pulseirinhas no pulso.
E, sei lá, só o fato deles serem mais velhos que você, Matí e Fran ao mesmo tempo, os faz mais saborosos ainda.
Morde o lábio, discretamente, os observando. Esteban joga o pescoço pra trás, soprando uma bufada de fumaça no ar, e volta a atenção pro Vogrincic. A cabeça pendendo pro canto de leve, atencioso.
Enzo apaga a bituca no cinzeiro apoiado no parapeito. Corre os dedos pelos cabelos escuros, ajustando as mexas atrás da orelha, gesticulando com as mãos de dedos longos, que parecem mais ásperos, grossinhos. Pô, imagina só dois dentro de você, vai valer por três, nossa...
Alterna o foco entre ambos, fantasiando consigo mesma. E quanto mais alimenta seu lado carnal, mais faz a ideia de ser dividida essa noite parecer um final de festa plausível.
— Son muy guapos, ¿no? — Matías comenta, como quem não quer nada, ao flagrar seu olhar nada casto em direção aos amigos dele. — Eu só ando com gente atraente que nem eu.
— Eu admiro seu narcisismo, Matí. — Fran murmura, levando a garrafa à boca, porém para no meio do caminho quando percebe ah, então eu sou bonito também, e ri.
Mas você nem se dá conta do bom humor, nem percebe, pois a cabecinha está voando longe, com a ajuda dos olhos. Mordisca a pontinha da unha, divertindo-se com a perversidade da própria mente. Porra, o Esteban parece ser aqueles tipos que faz carinho na sua cabeça enquanto você mama ele...
— Ah, é isso que você quer? — Se assusta ao perceber que falou alto demais, e agora o Recault tem consciência dos seus desejos lascivos. Antes que possa detê-lo, no entanto, o argentino rapidamente se vira para o outro e dedura: “Kuku, a gatinha aqui quer que ‘cê faça carinho na cabeça dela enquanto ela te mama!”
Merda, você tem vontade de enfiar a cabeça numa panela quente quando a atenção da dupla recai sobre ti. Vê Esteban apagar o cigarro no cinzeiro, e fica mais inquieta conforme ambos deixam a sacada pra se aproximar de vocês três na sala de estar.
Enzo senta no mesmo sofá que o Recalt, abraçando uma almofada sobre o colo. Na face, tem um sorrisinho de lado, diferente do Kukuriczka, que vem com a expressão mais neutra na sua direção.
Esconde as mãos no bolso da bermuda de algodão, te olhando por cima. O que foi que disse?
— Diz pra ele, princesa — Matías te encoraja, sorrindo, canalha. — Diz.
Você perde a postura porque Esteban está perto. Ele tem um jeitinho tão acolhedor, tão doce, e é justamente por isso que você sente vontade de desaparecer no colo de Francisco por tão manhosa que fica. A vontade é miar feito uma gatinha no cio e se oferecer como um pedaço de carne, nunca ficou tão suscetível.
O mais alto sorri, tranquilo. Levanta as suas perninhas, pra se sentar no sofá junto contigo, e as pousa sobre as coxas dele. Acaricia a região do seu tornozelo, afetuoso.
— Sabe... — começa — ...Matí é um pirralho chato, não liga pra ele. Você não precisa fazer, ou dizer, nada que não queira, cariño. A noite já está sendo muito legal só por ter te conhecido.
Caramba, dá pra ficar mais desejável que isso? Meu Deus, o calor que você sente dominar o corpo parece querer te colocar em combustão. E quando ele te olha com a nuca deitada no encosto do estofado, aquelas íris castanhas brilhando, docinhas igual um caramelo. Quer gritar me come me come me come de tanto tesão.
Não aguenta, então. Rapidinho está no chão da sala, abandonando os braços de Fran de qualquer forma, só pra se colocar sentada sobre o piso, entre as pernas abertas do mais velho.
— Fode a minha boquinha, Kuku — apoia o queixo no joelho alheio —, porfi.
Esteban entreabre os lábios, mas sem saber bem o que dizer. A sua falta de vergonha pra ser baixa com as palavras o pega desprevenido, o que, nem de longe, é algo ruim pra quem tinha topado uma dinâmica tão plural feito a escolhida pra esta noite.
— Eu disse, viu? — Matías fala. — Não vai negar pra ela, né, cara?
O homem te olha. Deita a lateral da face no punho fechado, cotovelos no braço do sofá, feito te admirasse. Com a outra mão, toca no seu rosto, contornando o maxilar até erguê-lo e segurar no seu queixo. Pra uma menina tão lindinha, diz, é difícil falar ‘não’.
— Mas eu quero um beijo primeiro — é a única condição, e você prontamente se apoia nos joelhos para selar os lábios nos dele. Esteban sorri entre os selinhos, a boca vermelhinha com o seu batom. Te tocando na nuca, indo e vindo com os dedos na sua pele, entre os seus fios de cabelo.
Está desabotoando a camisa ao passo que as suas mãozinhas inquietas se encarregam de abrir a bermuda. Aquela maldita expressão tão calma, nem parece que vai ganhar um boquete neste instante mesmo. Te dá tanta ânsia que crava as unhas nas coxas masculinas, na espera ansiosa por recebê-lo na sua boca.
E quando o tem, porra, só de vê-lo cerrar os olhos por um segundinho ao arfar profundo, já te faz rebolar sobre as próprias panturrilhas, excitada.
Ele te ajuda com os cabelos, com tudo que pedisse na verdade. Se quisesse que o mais velho surrasse a ponta da sua língua com a cabecinha gorda, faria sem pensar duas vezes. Mas você gosta de se lambuzar nele, não? Deixa um filete de saliva vazar de entre os lábios pra escorrer pelo comprimento já molhado, duro na palma da sua mão, pra subir e descer com a punheta lenta. Caridosa, empenhada. Alheia a qualquer olhar lascivo dos demais na sala de estar, ou quaisquer comentários sarcásticos que eles possam estar murmurando entre si.
Daí, Fran tem que agir. Ardiloso, se senta no chão, pertinho de ti. Apoia o peso do corpo nas mãos espalmadas no piso, pendendo as costas pra trás ao te encarar bem bonitinha no que faz.
— Sabia que eu falei pro Matí que ‘cê ia dizer não? — comenta, sem mesmo esperar que você fosse parar de encher a boca pra focar em outro alguém. — Mas olha só pra ti... — O rapaz exibe um sorrisinho ladino. — Não posso esquecer da putinha indecente que você é. Fica fazendo dengo, mas é uma garotinha sem-vergonha, não é?
E você ronrona, de boca cheia. Francisco se inclina pra perto, aproveita que você deixa Esteban escapar pra recupar o fôlego, apenas punhetando com as mãos agora, pra sussurrar ao pé do seu ouvido. Posso te dedar enquanto você mama ele?
— Você aguenta, não aguenta? — Beija o seu ombro. — Hm?
— Aguenta, sim — é Esteban quem responde por ri. Toca no canto do seu rosto. — Olha como faz tão bem... Merece um agrado enquanto está sendo tão boa pra mim. — Com o polegar, limpa o excesso de saliva que escorre pelo seu queixo. — Vai aguentar, não vai, cariño?
Você faz que sim. Mesmo se ele propusesse a maior atrocidade, você faria que sim igualmente. Quer agradar e, agora, também não se importa em ser agradada.
Francisco impulsiona o seu corpo pra frente, precisa que seu quadril esteja mais elevado para que o ângulo permita subir a barra do seu vestido e arredar a calcinha pro lado. E você se esforça, o plano é se esforçar ao máximo, porém no primeiro toque dos dedos no seu íntimo, estremece.
— Poxa, já tão molhadinha... — Fran comenta, naquele tom de voz que faz tudo parecer zombaria. — E tudo isso só porque ele tá fodendo a sua boca?
Matías ri, soprado, o que você esperava da nossa vagabundinha preferida pra meter?, e leva um golpe na face com a almofada que Enzo segurava no colo. O Vogrincic aperta os olhos, seja mais cavalheiro com as palavras, pirralho, repreende.
Já Francisco beija o seu ombro mais uma vez. Dois dedinhos vão fundo em ti, deslizam com facilidade. Acariciam por dentro numa região propícia a te fazer ver estrelas. O polegar, por fora, pressiona outra área mais sensível ainda.
Você engole os choramingos, usa as mãos em Esteban quando necessita arfar, respirar fundo, pra controlar o desejo. Mas não aguenta, não consegue dar conta das duas tarefas. O quadril empinadinho se empurra contra os dedos, remexe lentinho, no automático. Porque foca tanto no estímulo que recebe, cega nisso, aparenta se esquecer que não pode simplesmente deixar a boca cheia pra sempre sem respirar.
Engasga, então. Umas duas vezes. Tosse, com os olhinhos vermelhos e marejando. Um fiozinho transparente te prendendo à cabecinha lambuzada, ao liberá-la da sua garganta quente.
Esteban te ajuda a se recompor, todo carinhoso.
— Calma, mi amor, respira. — Limpa a lagrimazinha que ameaça correr pela sua bochecha. E sorri, terno. Te acha mil vezes mais formosa aos olhos nessa forma vulnerável, fofa, que tem vontade de te pegar pela nuca e ele mesmo encher a sua boca de novo.
— ¿Qué te pasa? — Fran espia por cima dos seus ombros, flagra o seu olhar de coitadinha. — Awn, não aguentou... Pensei que fosse aguentar, princesa.
E essa é a deixa pra te oferecer mais ainda. Mais fundo com os dedos, mais rápido. Mais pressão por cima do seu clitóris, circulando o local. Você passa a servir somente, paradinha, aí sobra pros dois a função de tomar as rédeas. Segura nos joelhos masculinos, levando pela frente e por trás.
É preenchida em ambos os buraquinhos quase que no mesmo ritmo. O rosto vira uma bagunça molhada, uma mistura devassa de batom vermelho manchado, saliva e porra escorrendo pelo queixo, gotinhas no pescoço. E a mordida que recebe na nádega, sem pudor, te faz lamuriar, manhosa. Fran se diverte com o som dos seus gemidinhos, o barulho ensopadinho da sua garganta sendo fodida. Não controla a reação de enfiar a mão por dentro da bermuda pra tocar a si próprio.
Você goza sem refrear. Incapaz de prender o tesão que retém, a situação erótica na qual se colocou contribuindo absurdamente. Uma descarga elétrica percorre o corpo dos pés à cabeça, feito um arrepio. Os músculos dormentes, doloridos. O peito pesando e a mente tão, mas tão fora de si, doente de prazer, que deve revirar os olhinhos, tola.
Nem pensa direito, vazia de raciocínio, só houve a fala de que eles querem se derramar na sua boca e se põe sentada no chão outra vez. Separa os lábios, língua pra fora, como Fran demanda. Os jatos morninhos acertam a sua bochecha, o nariz, lambuzam a face. É uma conjuntura que envolve tamanha submissão da sua parte que os suspiros e as palavras chulas que ecoam de ambos se torna comum pros seus ouvidos.
Francisco senta de volta no sofá, recuperando o fôlego. O calor do próprio corpo o faz puxar a camisa, apoiar a nuca no encosto do estofado. Esteban, porém, permanece à sua frente mais um pouquinho. Também respira mal ainda, quando toca o seu queixo, admira o estrago que fora causado em ti.
— Muy bien, bebê. — Pousa a mão sobre a sua cabeça, acaricia. — Perdoa se eu não te fiz carinho antes, igual você queria. É que estava tão bom que eu me esqueci. — Se inclina, deixando um beijinho na sua testa.
Você tem vontade de choramingar de novo, se debater no chão enquanto lamuria e diz perversidades obscenas. Por que ele tem que ser assim?! Te faz ter vontade de oferecer comida, casa, buceta e roupa lavada. Só manha, porém, com os olhinhos caindo junto dos ombros, o observando sentar no sofá outra vez.
Enzo sorri, te olhando.
— Vem aqui, vem. — Estica o braço. — Chega de ficar nesse chão frio servindo esses dois.
Você cambaleia, engatinhando até poder ser tomada nos braços e subir pro colo do uruguaio. Olha o que eles fizeram contigo, aponta, analisando o seu rosto. Um grande ‘gentleman’, quando puxa a própria camisa para usá-la na limpeza da sua pele manchada. Matías, também no estofado, ri, balançando a cabeça negativamente, incrédulo com tamanha cortesia.
Bem melhor, Enzo escorrega o indicador na ponta do seu nariz, amoroso, ao finalizar. Não se importa com a peça agora suja, joga em qualquer cantinho mesmo. Pode arrumar outra emprestada com o Recault, mas não poderia deixar a gentileza passar — ainda mais porque percebe que você se derrete toda.
As suas bochechas queimam, retraída. E o calor da palma da mão dele soma-se à quentura do seu corpo quando toca o seu rosto. Só que desce, não esquenta só ali. Caindo pelo canto, rodeando rapidinho no seu pescoço, e desviando pra lateral. No ossinho da clavícula, até contornar a curva do ombro, levando consigo a alça do seu vestido.
A timidez some logo, porém, mesmo com os seios expostos dessa forma. Talvez seja o olhar ambicioso, banhado à cobiça, que te acende o íntimo, te manipula a ansiar por ele de volta.
Lembra do meu nome?, ele te pergunta, com a voz rouca. E você, que vinha no esquema de só sentir, e não pensar, demora a ter a iniciativa de uma resposta, apesar de saber muito bem o que dizer. O homem sorri, pousa o indicador no seu lábio como se quisesse orquestrar o movimento que deveria ser feito ao ele mesmo responder — Enzo.
Você repete, igualando o balançar dos lábios com os dele. Quase hipnotizada, boba. Ri, quando ele ri também. Se ele quisesse falar um milhão de coisas pra você ficar repetindo assim, feito um bichinho de estimação, repetiria sem pensar duas vezes. Só quer se entregar total pra ele e curtir todo o deleite que tem certeza que vai sentir nas mãos do uruguaio.
Fran e Esteban também sorriem, julgam adorável a forma com que o amigo parece te domar por completo, tão suave na dominância. Matías, por outro lado, estala a língua, de braços cruzados.
— Tá sendo muito bonzinho com ela — alega. Tomba pra perto, só pra poder te encarar. — Conta pra ele — encoraja —, conta pra ele a putinha que você é. — E você ri, virando o rosto pro outro lado. — Conta que gosta quando eu falo sujo com você, no seu ouvidinho, pego forte no seu cabelo pra te comer. — Estica o braço pra alcançar a sua bochecha e dar um tapinha, chamando a sua atenção de volta pra ele. — Hm?
— É verdade? — o tom do Vogrincic é aveludado, baixo. Pros desavisados, soa complacente, mas quanto mais você interage com o uruguaio mais percebe que ele é tão canalha quanto o Recault é, a diferença é que mascara com o charme. — Gosta quando Matí faz essas coisas contigo? — A mão grande sobe pela sua nuca, afunda os dedos na raiz do seu cabelo e retém os fios, firme. — Que te pegue assim? É? — Inclina pra frente, próximo com a boca do seu ouvido. — Que fale o quê? Que você não vale nada, que vai te comer forte? Ou pior?
Qual foi a palavra que o Matí usou mesmo? Mira na direção do amigo brevemente, mas nem precisa de uma resposta, porque volta o olhar pra ti mais uma vez, sorrindo, ah, sim, ‘putinha’...
Você o envolve, escondendo o rostinho na curva do pescoço dele. Mas o homem não te deixa recuar, as mãos escalam pelo seu torço, te empurrando de leve pra trás, pra encontrar o olhar no dele novamente. Cobrem por cima dos seus seios, só que apenas uma das mamas ganha uma carícia. Os dedos enroscam no mamilo durinho, aperta um pouquinho.
— Gosta dessas coisas, nena? — reitera. — Hm? — Do nariz erguido, pra te encarar, abaixa o olhar e roça a pontinha pela região do colo, curvando lentamente a sua coluna para que possa com a boca umedecer a pele. — Dímelo. — Beija por entre o vale dos seus seios, de estalar os lábios. Você segura nos cabelos dele, suspira, de olhinhos fechados. — Díselo a tu papi.
E você derrete só com o uso do termo. Admite que sim, gosta dessas coisas, que, às vezes, é ainda pior, por isso não abre mão do Recault, muito menos de Romero, pois pode encontrar o que procura neles. Mas, também, se defende. Matí é muito provocador, né? Curte tirar do sério, implicar. Você é baixa, danadinha sim, porém o argentino gosta de degradar mesmo.
A boca quente toma um biquinho, a pressão em volta dos lábios suga, cruel. Língua umedece, lambe. Você arqueja, permitindo que te devorem os peitos, enquanto se força pra baixo, encaixando o meio das pernas sobre a ereção.
Matías se levanta do sofá. Se posiciona atrás de ti, puxa de leve os seus cabelos pra te fazer pende a cabeça e mirá-lo.
— ‘Cê é tão cachorra... — caçoa, com um tiquinho de raiva por ter saído como o ‘vilão’, porém com mais desejo do que tudo. — Quer meter nela, não quer, Enzo?
Enzo levanta o queixo, os cabelos bagunçadinhos o deixam mais atraente, em especial quando sorri ladino, cafajeste. Vamo’ meter nela junto, a proposta do Recault faz o uruguaio morder o lábio.
Toca o seu rosto, amoroso.
— Consegue levar? — pergunta, numa falsa preocupação. — Não vai ser muito pra ti? Eu não acho que vai dar. Mal aguentou o Fran e o Esteban ao mesmo tempo, e olha que eles nem pegaram pesado...
Você une o sobrolho, quase que num desespero. Não, vai dar sim... E ele parece imitar a sua expressão, caçoando, óbvio.
— Tudo aqui? — Com os dedos, toca no seu ventre, com a sobrancelha arquiada. Alivia as linhas do rosto, abrindo um sorrisinho. — Ah, acho que não, nena...
Você até ia choramingar mais, insistir, embora tenha plena consciência de que ele só está tirando uma com a tua cara. Acontece que Matí beija a sua bochecha, aquela risadinha de moleque no pé do seu ouvido pra tranquilizar ‘relaxa, se ele meter aí, eu posso te foder aqui por trás.’
Vai deixar ele fazer isso, bebê?, Enzo continua provocando, com o mesmo sorriso na face. Deita atravessado no sofá, com a cabeça no braço do estofado, para levantar o quadril e retirar as roupas de baixo. O Recault se despe também, a pausa entre se livrar da camisa, e antes de se ocupar com a calça, sendo ocupada com as mordidinhas perto do lóbulo da sua orelha.
Você fica de pé apenas pra empurrar a calcinha pernas abaixo, logo vindo por cima do uruguaio outra vez. Verga pra frente, de joelhos no estofado. Alinha a ereção entre as pernas, desce devagarinho, toda meiguinha, com a boquinha entreaberta.
As mãos de Enzo seguram na sua bunda, apertam a carne. Quando se empina para que o outro possa te tomar junto, resvala a ponta do nariz na do Vogrincic, o qual sorri mais, acaricia a sua bochecha. Matías utiliza a própria saliva pra molhar o caminho, bem devasso, esfregando a cabecinha de cá pra lá, instigante. Ao forçar pra dentro, arranca um resmungo seu, um lamúrio doce que é facilmente calado com o selar nos lábios de Enzo.
Queria poder saber descrever a sensação. Deveria ter se acostumado, quando tem uma referência de já ter experimentado com os seus contatinhos, mas, sei lá, porque é com alguém diferente, tudo aparenta mais intenso. A completude. A fadiga. Ambos jogam o quadril até ti, ocupam tudo no seu interior quase que ao mesmo tempo. Matías torce os fios dos seus cabelos no próprio punho, a mão de Enzo envolve o seu pescoço, o geladinho do anel prateado dele contra a sua pele ardente.
Se sente não só passível, mas conquistada, deliciosamente domesticada. Leva o olhar pro sofá adjacente e flagra os outros dois capturados pela cena sórdida. Fran com a cabeça descansando no ombro do amigo, e Esteban com tamanho amor nos olhos que você não dura muito tempo.
Quando Enzo continua metendo depois do seu orgasmo, procurando pelo dele, é ainda mais gostoso. Te inunda por ali, te dá tudo de si pra te deixar pingando. E Matías faz o mesmo, claro. Enche o outro buraquinho, orgulhoso dos jatos de porra abundantes, quentes, que te faz reter.
Você desmonta sobre o uruguaio, exausta. O corpo não aguenta mover ao mínimo, pesado, espasmando. Com a lateral do rostinho no peitoral suado, até cerra os olhinhos, tentando regular a respiração junto com ele.
— ¿Estás bien, cariño? — Esteban se ajoelha pertinho do sofá, de frente pra ti. Acaricia na altura da sua têmpora.
Uhum, você responde de volta, a voz tão frágil e doce que ambos riem. Enzo beija a sua cabeça, afaga os seus cabelos.
— Te odeio, Matías — Fran resmunga, pegando uma almofada pra abraçá-la. — Olha só pra esses filhos da mãe... Já tô sentindo que vamo’ ter que dividir ela com eles de novo...
Matí sobe a calça, abotoa de volta. Com um sorrisinho de canto, oferece um olhar para os amigos mais velhos, que agora parecem fazer parte dessa dinâmica casual.
Abre os braços, e se curva, vaidoso. De nada.
#imninahchan#la sociedad de la nieve#a sociedade da neve#the society of the snow#enzo vogrincic fanfic#enzo vogrincic smut#enzo vogrincic x reader#enzo vogrincic#matias recalt smut#matias recalt x reader#matias recalt#esteban kukuriczka fic#esteban kukuriczka fanfic#esteban kukuriczka smut#esteban kukuriczka x reader#esteban kukuriczka#francisco romero fanfic#francisco romero smut#francisco romero x reader#francisco romero#fran romero
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holaa, vi que tenés los pedidos abiertoos. podrías escribir algo sobre pipee? porfiiis 🥺
⊹ ┊DRUNK IN LOVE �� .ﾟ
↷ ˊ- pairing: felipe otaño x f!reader.
warnings: NONE just fluff.
summary: felipe te confiesa que le gustas mientras está borracho.
• dani’s typing… ! idk pero pipe me da vibes de friends to lovers in my opinion (sorry, tengo algo con escribir confesiones).
tu espalda estaba doliendo por el peso del chico que tenías encima mientras te balanceabas entre tus piernas para seguir de pie.
“dale pipe, ayúdame un poquito boludo” dijiste más bien en un gruñido y él solo murmuró incoherencias.
básicamente lo que había pasado es que habían salido a tomar unos tragos con algunos amigos y la mayoría se había pasado de copas, uno de ellos siendo felipe que ahora se encontraba bajo los efectos de alcohol.
“sos muy linda, además de que hueles muy bien” su cara se encontraba metida en tu cuello aún dejando todo su peso muerto en el tuyo. “¿sabés que me gustas mucho?” tratabas de no prestarle mucha atención a sus palabras.
sentiste algo caliente en tus mejillas y sabias que te habías sonrojado, las palabras que él decía tenían cierto peso para ti.
“dale boludo, necesitas descansar” aclaraste tu garganta que en un momento parecía ser el mismísimo desierto, tus plegarias se hicieron realidad al estar en la puerta de su habitación de hotel. “voy a buscar con tu permiso la tarjeta de la puerta” buscaste en los bolsillos de sus jeans la llave digital que abriría la puerta y la conseguiste con cierta felicidad.
no tenías ni idea de como sobreviviste a tanta cercanía con el castaño y sus comentarios sin sentido (según tu) sobre ti.
con un esfuerzo casi inhumano lograste acomodarlo en la cama que estaba un poco desordenada, mientras quitabas sus zapatos y tapabas su cuerpo con las sábanas rojas que la adornaban.
“quedate…” aún con sus ojos azules cerrados buscó tu mano y sentiste un chispazo que te hizo separarla al momento sin ser brusca. “no me dejes solo” sollozó, más bien haciendo un berrinche de borracho.
“no lo sé” le susurraste.
“anda, prometo no roncar” sonrío como un niño inocente y sus labios formaron un puchero que lo encontrabas sumamente dulce, sus ojos brillosos por el cansancio abiertos para ver fijamente los tuyos.
insistió un poco golpeando el lugar que estaba solo en la gran cama y bostezó cerrando sus ojos pero volviéndolos a abrir al instante esperando tu respuesta.
lo pensaste muy bien, tu cuerpo dolía de manera infernal por haber prácticamente cargado a felipe hasta su habitación, así que no lo tomaste como mala idea.
“va, pero dormite un rato” acariciaste sus mechones cafés y llegaste al otro extremo de la cama para quitar tus zapatillas dejándolas a un lado de la cama junto a toda la joyería que llevabas. tu mirada se dirigió a felipe el cual ahora dormía con una sonrisa plasmada en su cara.
no era un momento incómodo, estabas acostumbrada a dormir con él ya que eran bastante cercanos más que con los otros chicos que también los acompañaban en este viaje. no quisiste pensar mucho sobre los comentarios del ojos claros, cerrando tus ojos y dejándote caer en los brazos de morfeo junto a él.
no te diste cuenta cuando se había hecho de día y escuchaste una leve voz de fondo que te hicieron gemir exhausta, tus ojos aún cerrados por el dolor de cabeza que cargabas.
“dale, levantate que te vine a traer el desayuno flaca” era felipe que traía consigo una bandeja en manos que desprendía un olor exquisito y enseguida tu estómago gruñó.
te levántaste de a poco frotando tus ojos con el dorso de la mano mientras colocaba la bandeja en tus piernas y solo le diste un pequeño “gracias, pipe”.
comieron compartiendo de a ratos todo lo qué pasó ayer pero no querías que se enterara sobre las cosas que había dicho sobre ti así que lo ignoraste, igual no sentías que fuese algo importante.
dejaste la bandeja a un lado cuando terminaste de comer y de un trago bebiste el agua fresca que se encontraba en el vaso.
“sabés que no es mentira ¿no?” comentó de la nada.
“¿de que hablás? no te estoy entendiendo pipe” sus ojos miraban cualquier rincón de la habitación menos a ti, tu corazón se empezó acelerar en el tiempo que permaneció callado.
“todo lo que te dije ayer” susurró. “estaba borracho pero soy bueno recordando las cosas” sentiste como si te hubieses quedado muda totalmente, querías pero no podías sacar algo de tu garganta, ni siquiera algún monosílabo.
“quiero todo con vos desde que te vi” siguió. “éramos compañeros de trabajo y tomé la decisión de que no quería poner las cosas incómodas entre ambos, pero la realidad es que te adoro” su mano llegó a tocar tu mejilla con delicadeza, como si fueses de porcelana. “me gustaría tener algo con vos, no como amigos pero como pareja, dejame enseñarte todo lo que te mereces” estabas consiente de que tu también querías algo.
te inclinaste al cálido toque de felipe en tu mejilla y suspiraste.
“hm… lo tendría que pensar” sonreíste tanto que creías que no se te iba a quitar nunca pero ese era el efecto que él tenía en ti. su entrecejo se hizo más notable y con un rápido movimiento empezó hacerte cosquillas. “¡y-ya!” el paró al instante riendo. “me encantaría poder tener algo con vos” el tono de tu voz salió sincero.
“¿de verdad?” la suya sonó insegura, no lo podía creer.
asentiste y él solo se lanzó contra tu cuerpo sin dejar caer todo su peso mientras su boca entraba en contacto con la tuya, gimió al sentir tu lengua chocando la suya.
“sos de lo más linda, no lo puedo creer” se separó por un segundo pero volvió a tu boca, ahora estaba seguro que no se iba a querer separar de ella. “por cierto, gracias por cuidar de mi” ahora sentiste sus labios chocar con tu frente.
decidieron darse todo de baja, acostados en la cama, sintiendo la comodidad junto al otro y dejándose llevar por el momento, esperando los grandes planes que les preparaba el futuro para ambos.
——————————————————————————
by ﹫ VOGLATTE ╱ consiente de que es un fic relativamente corto (muy) pero muchas cosas están por venir pronto .ᐟ
#la sociedad de la nieve#felipe otaño#society of the snow#felipe otaño x reader#felipe otaño fic#enzo vogrincic#voglatte post .ᐟ#matias recalt#esteban kukuriczka#lsdln
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Contigo | Enzo Vogrincic
(Spanglish)
The city of Madrid was enveloped in a quiet stillness as the sun began to rise on a Sunday morning. You had been in a relationship with Enzo for nearly a year now, but lately, his busy schedule of conferences and interviews had left you feeling disconnected and unmotivated. Sensing the need to break out of this monotony, you decided to embark on a solo adventure and take the metro to El Rastro, a bustling open-air market that had always piqued your curiosity. With a sense of anticipation, you stepped onto the train and began your journey to the vibrant market, hoping to find some inspiration in the lively atmosphere.
Upon checking your WhatsApp, you saw a message from Enzo that greeted you with "Buenos días". You replied with a smiley face, and he responded by asking, "estás bn?". In response, you expressed your longing by typing "nada, te extraño".
After exploring the famous open-air market, El Rastro, you made your way back to your apartment for a well-deserved rest. You decided to take a long nap to recharge your energy and prepare for the rest of your day.
At 11 pm, when you were just about to call it a day, you heard a sudden knock on your apartment door. Curiosity piqued, you made your way to the door and peered through the peephole to see who it was. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Enzo, your boyfriend, standing outside with a bucket overflowing with beautiful roses. You couldn't resist the urge to open the door immediately and bask in the sight of his charming smile and the sweet fragrance of the roses.
He embraces your entire being, lifting you up against the wall. His lips caress your nose, then move to your soft lips, then to your delicate neck, and finally back to your lips once more. You feel his touch all over your body, sending shivers down your spine.
~
You find yourself sitting on the couch of your apartment with Enzo. After exchanging some kisses, he gently runs his fingers through your hair and places soft kisses on your cheeks. As you gaze into his beautiful honey-colored eyes, you suggest taking a stroll through the lively streets of Madrid to breathe in some fresh air. Enzo readily agrees, and you both set out to explore the vibrant city together.
As you walk hand-in-hand through the enchanting streets of Madrid, the city's vibrant energy surrounds you. Enzo breaks the serene atmosphere with a gentle inquiry: "¿Está todo bien?" You respond with a sigh, your emotions spilling out. "Es que... llevo meses sin verte y lo único que hago es trabajar, comer, y dormir. No es que tenga amistades; es que... a veces siento que te necesito, y odio sentir eso."
Unexpectedly, Enzo opens up, revealing his own struggles. "Sabes… me he estado sintiendo igual. Vos entendés que todo ha sido complicado. Mill(ch)ones de entrevistas y ahora con un nuevo papel—” Your curiosity peaks, and you interrupt, “Espera… ¿cómo que un nuevo papel? Joder Enzo, pero, ¿por qué no me lo has dicho? Joderrr… Felicidades!”
In a burst of pride for his upcoming film, you embrace Enzo tightly and shower him with kisses under the warm glow of a streetlamp in a romantic corner of Madrid. As he reciprocates the affection, he gazes intensely into your eyes. You playfully kiss the tip of his nose and delicately trace your fingers over his eyebrows, savoring the moment. Softly, you express your pride, whispering words of admiration, and seal the sentiment with another tender kiss.
Enzo, caught in the embrace of your pride and affection, responds with a tender smile. The soft glow of the streetlamp accentuates the warmth in his eyes as he holds you close. In a voice filled with love and gratitude, he whispers, "Gracias, mi amor. Having you by my side makes every achievement sweeter." As he gazes into your eyes, a silent understanding and a shared passion for each other's successes deepen the romantic connection between you two.
#enzo vogrincic#la sociedad de la nieve#society of the snow#fanfic#spanish#spain#uruguay#enzo x reader#latina#x reader#enzo vogrincic x reader#enzo vogrincic x you#my writing#argentina#enzo vogrincic fic#me enamoré de un uruguayo
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Así de caluroso || Enzo Vogrincic
El sol del mediodía caía a plomo sobre las calles de Montevideo, convirtiendo el asfalto en un espejismo humeante. El miércoles transcurría como cualquier otro día de verano, sofocante e implacable. A pesar del calor agobiante, una chica caminaba con paso ligero por 18 de Julio, alejándose de la facultad. El pelo se le pegaba a la frente, sudaba a chorros y el agua de su botella se había convertido en un caldo tibio. La libertad después de un largo examen era la recompensa que la impulsaba.
Cada paso era una lucha contra el calor. La chica apresuraba el ritmo buscando la sombra esquiva, deseando escapar de las fauces de la ciudad que tanto amaba.
De pronto, un leve malestar se apoderó de ella. El sudor se intensificó, la respiración se volvió dificultosa y un mareo familiar la amenazó. Se detuvo, tambaleándose, con la vista nublada y puntos negros danzando en su campo visual. Ignorando las señales de alarma, bebió un trago de la repugnante agua tibia y reanudó la marcha. Su única meta: salir de 18 de Julio. A duras penas, avanzó unas cuadras más, luchando contra un nuevo malestar que se instalaba en su cuerpo.
Allí mostrándose casi burlona detrás de esa inmensa puerta de concreto que se alzaba sobre la calle Juncal se encontraba uno de sus deleites visuales favoritos, Sarandí. Ella no sabía por qué, pero esa calle siempre la llamaba a explorarla. Aunque ya la había recorrido tantas veces, siempre encontraba algún tesoro nuevo. Se debatió si debía pasar por lo que ya era el desolado calderón a fuego ardiente de la Plaza Independencia para llegar a ese oasis visual que le abría paso a Ciudad Vieja o simplemente ignorarlo e irse a casa.
La exuberante calidez de la tarde le gritaba a la chica que debía ignorar el llamado a la exploración. Sin embargo, una fuerza interior, una mezcla de aventura y algo más que no podía nombrar, la incitaba a seguir adelante. Como diablillos en el infernal ambiente, sus deseos la empujaban por ese camino que solo le estaba trayendo malestares. Ignorando las señales de su cuerpo, que no estaba preparado para resistir más tiempo en esas condiciones, se decantó por seguir la incitación diabólica y entrar en el paraíso que era la calle Sarandí.
Arrastrando los pies como si una cadena de acero los uniera al suelo, se adentró en ese rincón de alegría que tanto la llamaba. Caminó unas pocas cuadras, disfrutando del pequeño oasis que se abría paso en el desierto de calor que se había apoderado de Montevideo. De repente, un golpe seco: su corazón aceleró a un ritmo desbocado, su respiración se volvió jadeante, su visión se nubló y su cabeza comenzó a dar vueltas. La conciencia se le escapaba de entre los dedos. Así se sentía: una bajada de presión producto de su insensato deseo de continuar un camino que no debería haber tomado, en un día en el que el mismísimo señor de los infiernos parecía haberse apoderado de las calles de la ciudad. Su destino: caer desmayada por su imprudencia.
—Tranquila, que te tengo.
Esa voz no era producto de su imaginación. Los brazos que la rodeaban eran demasiado cálidos y sudorosos, evidenciando que el desconocido también sufría las consecuencias del avasallante calor que emitía el asfalto. A pesar de que la conciencia se le escapaba, de que sus ojos se cerraban y dejaban de transmitir luz, la sensación de estar en los brazos de un extraño la obligaba a volver a la realidad, alerta ante un posible infortunio. Cuando el instinto de supervivencia se apoderó de su cuerpo y abrió los ojos con miedo, se topó con un ángel. El calor se disipó de su cuerpo al contemplar sus ojos color avellana, la sensación de sudor se olvidó con solo una mirada a sus labios, el mareo se ignoró por completo al observar su rostro como un todo. Enzo Vogrincic, en todo su angelical ser, la sostenía para evitar que cayera en la fogosa calle Sarandí.
—No te preocupes que te ayudo a sentarte.
Su voz me sacó de mis pensamientos, esta vez infinitamente menos agónicos. Me tomó con delicadeza y me llevó unos metros hacia atrás, hacia unas sillas de plástico rojas, no muy cómodas, con el logotipo de una conocida marca de bebidas. Estaban fuera de un local llamado Zabala. Solo allí me di cuenta de la distancia que mis pies, que ya se podían haber fundido con el asfalto, me habían llevado. Estábamos cerca del Registro Civil y a unos pocos metros del Implosivo Artes Escénicas, la escuela de actuación. He ahí esclarecida la aparición de mi inesperado ángel salvador.
Con mi mente retornando de su estado de inactividad coherente lo primero que atiné a decirle a mi salvador fue.
—Perdón.
Una simple palabra, tan tonta que parecía fuera de lugar. Sin embargo, así me sentía: avergonzada de haberlo desviado de su camino. Posiblemente le molestaba ayudar a una desconocida que caminaba imprudentemente bajo el sol abrasador, con la única compañía de una cartera que contenía sus documentos para el examen, una tarjeta de transporte y su fiel botella de agua, que ahora parecía más una sopa por lo caliente que estaba.
La risa de mi nuevo acompañante me confirmó lo tonta que había sido mi respuesta. Doblemente avergonzada, lo miré a los ojos. Solo vi diversión por mis palabras y preocupación por mi extrema palidez y mi inminente desmayo.
—¿Cómo me vas a pedir perdón? ¿Te sentís mejor ahora sentada? Te voy a comprar un refresco y un agua fría, porque estoy seguro que te bajó la presión.
El hombre se irguió, enderezando su espalda, y se dirigió al restaurante con paso firme. Su objetivo era claro: conseguir las bebidas que me ayudarían a reponerme. Al cabo de unos minutos, regresó con un refresco y un agua fría. Se agachó de nuevo junto a mí, ofreciéndome el elixir que mi cuerpo, agradecido, absorbió con avidez.
—Muchísimas gracias, y te pido perdón por las molestias. Seguro tenías otras cosas que hacer más que asistir a una pelotuda que se desmayó.
Dije con pena, mirándolo a sus ojos marrones. Sentía cómo me ardían las mejillas. Solo entonces, al contemplar mi alrededor, me percaté de la bicicleta olvidada en el piso. Probablemente se había bajado de ella al verme en mi estado.
—No me agradezcas, solo hice algo que cualquiera haría.
Expresó mientras se giraba para buscar la bicicleta. Al levantarla, se regresó hacia mí y me dijo:
—Me llamo Enzo. ¿Y vos?
Le dije mi nombre con más confianza al ver que no parecía molesto ni apurado por irse. Le señalé el refresco, aún sin abrir, ofreciéndoselo.
—Eso es tuyo, no me lo tenés que devolver. Si yo fuera vos, también tomaría de ese. El azúcar te va a ayudar a recuperarte, todavía estás muy pálida. Si me permitís.
Con esa simple petición de consentimiento, acercó su mano a mi rostro apartando algunos cabellos que se me habían pegado por el sudor, aquellos que mi peinado no había podido contener y ahora se posaban rebeldes por donde ellos deseaban. Luego de poner mis cabellos en orden, su mano se quedó allí, posada en mi cuello. La sensación de tener aquel pesado miembro cerca de donde se medía mi pulso me inquietaba. ¿Y si podía sentir el acelerado ritmo al que iba mi corazón? Su rostro tan perfecto no era lo único que me embobaba; su amabilidad y sencillez con la que estaba allí delante de mí me estaba dejando el cerebro aún más atrofiado que cualquier síntoma debido al infernal clima.
Tomando otro largo trago de agua para disipar los efectos que él estaba teniendo en mí, tomé valor, lo miré a los ojos y le dije:
—Muchísimas gracias otra vez. Siento que te lo estoy diciendo ya muchas veces, pero de verdad estoy agradecida con tu gesto. Pudiste haberme ignorado y dejarme tirada en la calle, y no lo hiciste.
—No tenés nada que agradecerme. Decime, ¿vivís por acá? Así te acompaño y me quedo tranquilo de que llegaste bien.
Me respondió aún con su mano posada delicadamente sobre mi cuello, dejándole leves caricias y sus ojos mirándome fijamente, entre preocupados y con algo parecido a ternura.
—No vivo por acá, ni cerca. Solo vine porque acabo de dar un examen y quería recorrer. Iba super bien hasta hace unos momentos.
Ya dejando un poco de lado la vergüenza, le respondí un poco más animada y sin tanta timidez. Tanta, ya que tener a alguien tan bonito enfrente de ella solo hacia que se pusiera nerviosa.
—Ok, sin ser muy invasivo, ¿dónde vivís? Tal vez te puedo llevar o algo. Me preocupa que te vayas sola después de que casi te desmayas. Si querés, llamamos a alguna amiga o alguien que te venga a buscar.
—Vivo en Manga, así que un poco lejos de acá. Y mis amigas en estos momentos...
Dije entre risas, diciendo donde vivía y luego chequeando la hora: 16:04. Para saber dónde podrían estar alguna de mis amigas para contestarle.
—Mis amigas están todas trabajando, así que no queda de otra que irme sola. Quedate tranquilo que no me va a pasar nada.
Le contesté intentando calmarlo y asegurarle de que todo estaría bien y no me volvería a pasar nada.
—Te invitaría a mi casa, pero siento que para un primer encuentro es mucho. Me conformo por ahora acompañándote a tomar el bondi.
Volviendo por la calle Sarandí, por la tan calurosa Ciudad Vieja. Ese tipo de calor que hacía que el asfalto derritiera el calzado y definitivamente el tipo de calor que hace que se te baje la presión y encuentres a Enzo, quien ahora te tiene montada en su bicicleta mientras ambos ríen y disfrutan el pequeño aire que les llega por la velocidad con la que conduce el antes mencionado. Ese era el tipo de día caluroso que hacía aquel día en Montevideo.
#enzo vogrincic#la sociedad de la nieve#the society of the snow#matias recalt#enzo vogrincic x reader#enzo vogrincic x you#fem!reader#enzo vogrincic fluff#evogrincicedit#enzo vogrincic one shot#enzo vogrincic fanfic#enzo vogrincic fic
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just found the best chat fic i’ve ever read in my life. made me laugh out loud, had super accurate and in depth characterisation, and had the ships i wanted including a pretty rare pair.
it has 8 chapters and hasn’t been updated since 2021 🫥
#the way i am devastated#fanfiction#ao3#archive of our own#fanfic#chat fic#dps fanfiction#dead poets society
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hii could i request a neil perry smut, similar to the charlie one. With a Taylor Swift song!! Love your work🤍🤍
New Romantics
Pairing: Neil Perry x FemReader
Warnings: 18+, lust, sexual attraction, smut, mentions of nudity, oral, p in v, first time, fluff
Summary: Neil Perry falls for you out of no where. In his minor crisis over his feelings for you, you find yourself feeling the exact same about him. After all a forbidden romance was far more interesting than the boring life you both had stuck in Welton.
a/n: I’m so sorry I absolutely got carried away with this but sweet precious little Neil and Taylor Swift. It’s genius.
word count: 5,234
Masterlist
Neil Perry didn’t really care about girls. That didn’t mean he wasn’t attracted to them, of course he was. He just had far more important things to focus on than obsessing over a girl and her looks. That also wasn’t to say he didn’t care about those things either. Hell he had seen plenty of naked girls from the magazines Charlie stole from his father. He just never had in person and he was okay with that. He had things to focus on like school and pleasing his Dad. If he obsessed over girls like Charlie or Knox did he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the important stuff. At least that was what he thought until he saw you.
Neil had never been bothered by girls attending Welton like the other boys had. He’d rather them be comfortable and not distracting while he was here. Guys like Hopkins were the ones that couldn’t leave them alone. That was how he had ended up spotting you. Hopkins was leaning over you, hand pressed into the wall, his free arm trying to snake its way around your waist. Your heel came down so hard into the boys foot Neil actually heard him whimper.
“I told you to leave me alone!” you seethed, Neil’s eyes lifting to see your long hair swinging violently in your pony tail, bright eyes wide, nostrils flared. His heart stopped. You were damn near the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He was so distracted by the hills of your lips, imagining them pillowy soft against his own, he didn’t even notice you were now looking at him. A look in your eyes that could kill with your hands planted tightly on your hips.
“You want a go?” you asked, narrowed eyes and bright teeth shining behind your perfect red lips. Neil visibly gulped before shaking his head, clutching his books to his chest. You scared him. Yet not in the way you should. You scared him because for the first time in his life he found himself unable to deny his attraction.
“No, no. I uh, no” your head tipped back, the roll of your eyes so heavy he swore they almost disappeared. He wished your head would tip back like that looking up at him, touching him, taking care of him. The thought made his heart constrict in his chest, because he had never thought that about a girl before. It was as if he couldn't stop it, there was just something about you that made his skin tingle with anticipation. He had never had that before.
“Whatever Perry, find something else to entertain you” you scolded, briskly walking past him, shoulder brushing against his own. Unable to avoid it, another thought of you laying underneath him, with that fiery look appeared, and he actually had to close his eyes to shake the thought away.
So Neil spent the better part of the entire week trying to chase away thoughts of you. It was exactly what he had been afraid of. All consuming, distracting thoughts that he couldn’t seem to make go away. He had zoned out through three entire lectures before realizing he had a serious problem on his hands. He needed a way to get you out of his system and fast. Yet every time he was close to getting himself to stop he realized having thoughts and feelings for you was the most exciting thing to happen all year. The most exciting thing to ever happen in this school actually. At least since Keating had started teaching.
“Hey Neil, do you have the latin notes?” Charlie asked from Neil’s bed, surrounded by homework he was behind on. He preferred to catch up on it in the presence of his best friend rather than Cameron. Charlie didn't need a lecture about trying better at school from any one other than his father. Cameron had a habit of acting a lot like his Dad.
“Um, no actually” Neil gave him a sheepish look, long finger pushing the wired glasses up his nose.
“What do you mean no? You take notes even when Cameron helps us with math” Charlie sat up, confusion flooding his entire face. He just expected Neil to throw the notes over, he had never said no before.
“I was distracted” Neil shrugged, unsure how to properly explain himself.
“Something is up with you, you’ve been acting weird all week” Charlie shook his head, trying to read what was going on in Neil's head. Thing was it was usually Neil having to tell him what to do, not the other way around. As Charlie sat there trying to figure it out Neil felt the answer bubbling in his chest, ready to jump out at any moment. “What is going on?”
“Y/N” Neil blurted, nerves making his skin feel like it was on fire under the stare of his longest and oldest friend. The minute the name left his mouth he winced and squeezed his eyes shut, unable to watch Charlie as he processed this random response.
“Y/N? Like the Y/N in our latin class that tells Mcallister to eat it when she forgets her homework?” Neil opened his eyes and nodded, embarrassment covering his cheeks in a bright red.
“Since when do you even talk to her?” Charlie asked, arms crossing over his chest as an amused look covered his face. Neil never talked about girls, so this was a first.
“I don’t, but I can’t get her out of my head” Neil groaned as he gripped at his hair, more dirty images of the girl flashing through his mind. He needed help and as soon as he could get it.
“No way, Neil has a crush” Charlie snickered and that’s when Neil dropped his head on his desk, a defeated grunt escaping his lips.
“That’s the thing, it’s not just a crush” now that peaked Charlie’s interest, his best friend getting all squeamish about a girl was bound to be interesting.
“Not just a crush?” Charlie asked, eyebrows high in amusement. This was pure entertainment for Charlie, Neil embarrassed about a girl. Normally it was Neil being embarassed when Charlie said gross things about a girl.
“I can’t stop thinking about her. I watched her stomp on Hopkins foot and next thing I know I'm thinking about kissing her and..... other things" Charlie laughed loudly, eyes crinkling shut because for the first time it wasn't just him getting all hot and bothered over a girl. Hell it was Neil of all people.
"Wow, I did not expect this" Charlie said once he had finally calmed down, still amused over the predicament his friend was in.
"Stop laughing man, I need your help. I don't know what to do and if my grades slip because of this my Dad will kill me" Neil pleaded, not enjoying his friends amusement one bit. Charlie had been fighting attraction his whole life, Neil had never found anything worth it to be attracted to. At least until now.
"Look there's only one way to get rid of an itch, and that's to scratch it" Neil furrowed his eyebrows, confusion covering his face.
"I don't think that's true, actually the worst thing for an itch is to scratch it" Charlie rolled his eyes at his friends literalness and shook his head.
"Not that kind of itch, look you're not gonna stop thinking about her until you at least talk to her. Even better way to scratch it is to do all the things you're thinking about but let's start with baby steps" Charlie told him and Neil somehow turned even redder, the idea of even acting on his thoughts embarassment enough.
"Fine, I'll talk to her but that is it"
Welton sucked. Truly since the moment you had been here. The last thing you needed was to be harrassed by boys who had gone here so long without girls they'd have no idea how to act when one finally showed up. Yet your parents made you anyway the minute it became co-ed and it was exactly like you had predicted. Almost every boy in the school harrassed you, sexualized you, made slimy comments, and out right direspected you. A small part of you sympathized with them not being taught but at the same time you didn't feel the need to deal with it. It wasn't your job to make them decent human beings, it was their mothers, and all their mothers abandoned them here. So all you could do was put them in their place when they tried to mess with you. You had yet to meet a Welton boy that respected you.
You liked to pretend it didn't bother you but it did. You hadn't really gotten close to the other girls and all the boys ever did was tear you down. Everyone in this school was too bored and tired of everything. All they could do is mess with each other while they all waited for their escape. Especially you, waiting for that train you knew would never come. Didn't matter anyway, your parents were no better than this no good school. So all you could do was watch as they all flirted with each other, disgusting displays of undeceny, practically wearing scarlett letters like the Nathaniel Hawthorne book. Little did they know yours was better, you just hadn't bothered to show it.
Being young it was easy to play innocent, like being in this school wasn't putting you on the road to ruin. So everyone in this school could play dumb but they all knew what being here meant. It meant saying goodbye to the finer things in life, accepting a life of successful educational pursuits, with no passion for life behind it. So you continued to listen to girls cry in the bathroom at night and see the distraught faces of the boys when they realize now that their on this train they will never be abe to get off. Too focused on the progressive classrooms without realizing living their life held the best lesson for them. You hoped Keating would help them realize that, before it was too late at least. So that was what you thought about once English class had ended, the teacher yet again surprising the students in the classroom.
"Y/N?" turning you spotted Neil Perry, the dreamy dough eyed boy that sat two seats behind you. You had yelled at him last week, you hadn't meant to but people like Hopkins made you so mad anyone that happened to be in the cross fire could end up burned too.
"Hey Neil" you smiled lightly at him, hoping you wouldn't have to add another boy to the list of Welton imbeciles.
"Hey, uhm. I uh-. Could you-?" you watched as he stumbled over his words, eyes darting around your face, looking anywhere but your eyes. You realized he was nervous and he was also trying his best not to disrespect you. That was new.
"Take a breath Perry, I promise I'm not going to stomp on your foot" you chuckled, hand gripping his shoulder to ease the tension slighty. Finally his eyes met yours and they held so much adoration you swore your heart melted on the spot.
"I was wondering if you had the latin notes?" your eyebrows furrowed, surprised he was asking about notes. Especially since he was friends with Meeks who was top of the class. He spotted your confused face and the panic set in again.
"I mean yeah, but isn't Steven always on top of that stuff?" you asked as you began to dig through your bag, looking for the notebook.
"Yeah which is exactly why I don't want him to know I've been forgetting to take notes" at this you laughed lightly and Neil swore his heart stopped. He had made you laugh, Charlie was right. So far this conversation had already done so much for Neil, when all at the same time it was making his feelings for you absoltuley so much worse.
"Has something been on your mind?" you found yourself asking as you finally found the notebook and moved to hand it to him. Neil gulped nervously and chuckled.
"Uh, I guess you could say that" he said, adding the notebok to his mountain high of textbooks. "Thank you for this, and also I thought Hopkins deserved it just so you know. That's not how you treat a lady, especially you"
"I'm nothing too special, but thanks" you smiled softly at him, not expecting this. All the boys you had run into this year had been so vile. Who would've thought Neil Perry was a sweet heart.
"You're everything Y/N" Neil told you, stare hard as if the look itself could convince you of your worth. Your skin instantly started to crawl, your neck heating up, because damnit Neil Perry was cute and he just said you were everything.
"Would you want to study for latin together? My roomate goes to the library every night from six to seven so we could then" you found yourself saying, unsure why you had seemed to cave. You swore you weren't going to allow Welton boys in but you forgot how real gentlemen had acted and Neil was starting to take your breath away.
"In the girl dorms?" the color seemed to suddenly drain from his face and you snickered, the way he was so shy making you gigle like a young school girl. After all it was what you were but so many of the rude boys and vicous girls had thrown bricks at your cool and innocent structure. Hell you could build a castle from how many they had thrown at you. Yet, even if every day at this school was a battle maybe a night with Neil Perry could be a dream.
"Yes, Mrs Leonard reads in her room around that time. You won't get caught, promise" you told him, assuring him that the hall monitor wouldn't be on duty if he stopped by. Neil suddenly found himself nodding, the idea of seeing where you sleep every night, where you change, sending him into over drive.
"Okay, uh, sounds good. I'll see you then" you smiled softly before nodding and leaving him behind, a smirking Keating from his desk staring the young boy down.
"Should I be worried?" he teased and Neil shook his head, the tips of his ears red.
"No, we're just friends" Neil lied, right through his teeth, and Keating just laughed.
"My boy, you don't look at friends like that" Neil nodded, a blush permanently etched across his face as he rushed to tell Charlie because the only way he would survive the night was learning the expertise of someone who was a master at sneaking onto the girls dorm floor.
If you were being honest you half expected Neil to not show up. He wasn’t really known around the school to cause trouble. So when he showed up at your door, 6 o’clock on the dot, your heart fluttered. He had rid himself of his formal school uniform, now in sweat pants and a white t-shirt that he had covered in a long sleeve flannel to keep warm. The way he looked warmed you over as well.
“You came?” you found yourself saying out loud, stepping out of the way for him to slip easily into the room.
“Yeah, I wanted to spend time with you” Neil told you, honesty dripping from his tongue like honey. You watched as his eyes scanned your room, taking in the differences, and possibly the similarities to his own. Then his eyes landed on you and it wasn’t hard to miss the way they had darkened.
Neil almost rubbed his eyes because he had pictured you in a silk night set hundreds of times. It was how most of his fantasies would start. Now here you were in front of him, a silk red set laying softly against your skin. Long legs bare and for him to see. Maybe he was day dreaming again. Surely this couldn’t be real? He was going insane and he was going to start losing it. First his grades then he won’t be sure what planet he is even on.
“I didn’t take you for the sneaking around type?” you finally said, surprised goodie two shoes Neil had not only snuck away from his dorm floor but snuck his way onto yours.
"I'm not, but lately I've learned some risks are worth taking" Neil told you, hard stare set on you. You weren't one to fall easily into guys but for some reason the way Neil looked at you made your skin crawl. You allowed his stare to wash over you, refresh you, and for the first time you allowed yourself to think it was possible to be something with Neil Perry. After all you could be the new romantics and even though heart break was a national anthem you both could sing it proudly. Neil was a reminder that the best people in life are free.
"Um, here are your notes" Neil finally spoke into the silence, nervously gulping as he returned the notebook. It was damn near impossible to copy the notes when thoughts of tonight seeped into his mind, doing things in your dorm bed that no dorm bed should ever see. The minute he would get his focus back he would stumble upon some hearts you doodled and it would start the process all over again. He wished he could get every single heart tattooed on his body.
"Oh perfect! I'm glad I could help" you told him, taking this notes and turning to set them on your desk. You used this moment to catch your breath, no longer looking at Neil Perry like something you wanted to corrupt. Yet that was exactly how he was looking at you because the red fabric covering the curve of your ass was making him want to bite it like an apple, any taste of you willing to soothe his internal war of lusting after you. He was so distracted he hadn't even noticed you had turned back around and had caught him practically drooling over you.
Quickly his eyes snapped up to yours, unable to read your face. He waited for any type of reaction, more than likely one similiar to when you bruised the hell out of Hopkins foot but instead you just sat there, staring back him giving no clue as to what you were thinking. Little did he know this was poker and you were about to play your ace. When you're a teenager you are too busy dancing to get knocked off your feet but afterall you need love and all you want is danger. A forbidden romance could be exactly that. You knew starting something with him the rumors would spread like wildfire but the thing about rumors is even if they were terrible and cruel most of them were true. So what would it matter if they had one more brick to throw at you. Neil still didn't have a single clue as to what was happening as you took a step closer to him.
"I can leave, I didn't mean to upset-" Neil froze as you held up a hand to stop his apology. For the first time since you had a caught him a smile broke across your face.
"Please stay" you told him, your eyes now practically begging for the boy who had been falling apart for you all week. Neil's shoulders relaxed as he nodded, a soft smile on his face as he realized you were looking at him like he looked at you.
"Okay" he told you and before he could process what was happening next your arms were flinging around his neck, mouth sealing against his own. Eyes wide and unsure hands quickly turned into holding onto you like at any moment you would disappear and this wouldn't be real. Your lips were as soft as he imagined, you tasted sweet like sugar, and now that you were so close he could smell your shampoo. His senses were trying to take it all in, commit it to memory, because until now it was just what he had imagined and now you were pressed against him, mouth hot against his own and chest pressed tightly against his. You weren't wearing a bra, he had noticed immediately and now he wasn't sure he would survive this. Surivve you.
"Is this okay?" you asked as you pulled away, panting to catch your breath but Neil didn't answer because now that he had a taste he couldn't stop. His lips were now trailing down your neck, your perfume clinging to him, and he vowed to never wash it away. Charlie was right about scratching that itch but he needed it fully taken care of. One kiss would not solve over a weeks worth of painful pent up sexual feelings for you.
You read his message loud and clear and as his lips continued to taste every visible inch of skin your hands were pushing the flannel off of his shoulders. The fabric dropped to the floor and now your fingers were curling under the hem of his white t-shirt and he only removed himself from you for a second to allow you to remove it completely. Your head fell back in a gasp as his cool hands slipped underneath your own shirt, pressing softly into the flesh of your back, and impossibly closer to him. You had planned on studying, truly, but now that he was flush against you, his length against your stomach you realized you might never think of latin ever again.
"Take it off" you whispered in his ear and he finally detached himself from your neck, careful to not leave any marks. His eyes searched yours for any uncertainty but you didn't seem uncertain at all so he didnt hesitate to grip the red fabric and pull it over your head, lifting your hair with it. His eyes dropped instantly, taking in your bare form, hair swooshing down, and making you look like an angel. He realized none of Charlie's dirty magazines could never ever compare to the real thing. To you.
You realized his nerves and slowly grabbed his hands in your own. You gave him a reasurring smile as you lifted them, placing them directly on your chest. Nervously his hands cupped around your breasts, squeezing softly as he determined exactly what it felt like. He didn't want to hurt you after all. Your head tipped back at the feeling, a small whimper leaving your mouth and he realized he much preferred that one over Hopkins. As if his body was on auto pilot his mouth moved to cover your own, to swallow your whimper, and sear it into his heart forever.
Your hands fell up one his shoulders, guiding him towards your dorm bed. Neil’s hands only left your chest when the back of his knees met the edge of your bed and he fell down into it. Propping himself up on his elbows he watched as you shimmied out of the silk shorts, leaving you in a white pair of underwear, a small bow right in the center. His eyes locked onto it like a missile to its target as you lifted yourself to straddle his lap. Neil fell back in the sheets, groaning as he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Fuck, there is no way this is real right now” he spoke his thoughts out loud and you giggled lightly, leaning down so your face was hovering right over his.
“You treat me like I’m worth something Neil Perry, because of that I have no issue allowing myself to feel things for you” you whispered to him, wanting him to know that in this shit show of a school at least there was one other kindred spirit just like his.
“You should know you’re the only person I’ve felt things for ever” he told you in return and you smiled before sweetly kissing him, something you planned on doing for as long as you could.
You deepened the kiss once Neil’s hands gripped your waist, planting you firmly above his erection and trying desperately to not rut into you like a needy dog. Yet he was failing miserably because he could feel you everywhere and the sensation of your bare chest against his own was about to become much better. His thoughts were halted when your fingers curled into his waist band, head pulling away from his own as your eyes flashed to his bare torso. He looked at you pleadingly, begging you to do anything, so you stood up, tugging the sweatpants down along with his plaid boxers.
Never would you have guessed Neil Perry would be naked in your dorm bed yet here he was, in all his glory, clearly doing everything he could to last. Which he wasn’t going to much longer because now your were on your knees, delicate fingers tracing along the vein on the underside of his cock. The image more perfect than the first time he imagined it, the first time he had imagined you. “I’m gonna take care of you”
And then your tongue was licking a long stripe from the base of his dick to the very top. Your lips closing around to give it a soft kiss and Neil felt tears beginning to fill his eyes, a desperate mess and so needy for you. The effect you had was dangerous and he was done for, officially. He should just drop out. Then he couldn’t think of that any longer as your mouth finally closed around him, taking as much as you could. He rutted against the back of your throat, your hands palming his balls and he felt himself begin to tremble. You only smirked at the reaction, sucking him for all he was worth.
“I’m not, I’m not gonna make it” he stuttered out but before he could succumb to his needs you were releasing him with a pop, a small smirk on your face as he lost his orgasm. You felt only a little guilty as he looked at you so wounded.
“Don’t worry baby, I want us to finish together” you told him, now standing as you slid your panties down your legs. Neil cursed himself for hardening quickly again at the sight. You sucked in a sharp breath as the cool air met with the wetness of your core and before you could straddle Neil again he was sitting up and gripping your hips, fingers digging softly into the flesh of your ass.
“Could I-, could I taste you?” he nervously asked and you smiled at his shyness before nodding. Neil stood, allowing you his place on the bed where you allowed yourself to relax. “This is my first time”
“I’ll teach you” you encouraged and he nodded, now dropping to his knees himself. You had been so worked up that when he finally dared to run a finger through your folds you were tightening around nothing. Neil took a moment to explore, really see what it all looked like, a curious thumb pressing to your clit. When he heard you take a sharp rush of air in he looked up alarmed and you just chuckled.
“That’s the sweet spot handsome” you explained and he took this information in as he continued to look. In a daring moment Neil leaned forward, tongue dragging through your folds before pressing firmly on your clit again. He was shocked to find how good you tasted, not expecting it to be like this. The moment he realized how much you liked it he dug in like it was his last meal. Savoring it and hoping to keep your taste on his tongue the rest of the night.
Neil was a fast learner. After only a few more tips and adjusting his position he had you wreathing beneath him, you fingers practically trying to rip the hair out of his head. You could feel him rutting against the side of the bed and the minute you felt your stomach begin to tighten you pushed him back, panting out heavy breaths. “I need you inside of me right now”
Neil blushed and you leaned over to dig for the one condom you had come to Welton with. You had never planned on using it and now you realized you needed to figure out how to get more. You sat up and rolled the condom on for him before moving to lay on the bed the correct way. Neil followed your lead and settled himself between your legs, dragging the tip through your folds. You moved to put your own hand down there, lining him up before nodding at him. He pushed in slowly, his length stretching you sweetly.
Neil realized no day dreaming could compare to the sight of you naked underneath him and the way your warmness enveloped him inside of you. Once he was fully inside he couldn’t stop himself from dropping his head down and sucking your nipple into his mouth. You hissed at the pleasure it gave you, realizing he had gotten more comfortable during all of this. Slowly he started to move inside you, sucking so hard at each breast you realized he was leaving them covered in hickeys. You grabbed his head, pulling it up to kiss his mouth as he begun to hit the sweet spot inside of you.
Of course he couldn’t seem to leave your breasts alone, hands finding them as he kissed like you were his and he was going to keep it that way. Soon enough he was pounding into you like his life depended on it, you prayed the other girls couldn’t hear the bed squeaking or your moans. You wished you could let out the pornagraphic sounds you were holding back to avoid getting caught.
You felt your stomach begin to tighten again and Neil could feel you clenching around him. His thrusts began to get sloppy and in a moment of courage he took his hand and behind to rub your clit just like he learned and you were milking him for all he was worth in seconds. Neil allowed himself to finish as well, practically falling on top of you as he collapsed, the euphoric feeling making him dizzy.
“I guess even though we didn’t study you at least learned something” you said, pressing small kisses into the side of his neck. Neil chuckled lightly, lifting himself up to look in your eyes.
“I hope you know this wasn’t my intention. I mean I’d thought about it but I was at least hoping to take you on a date first” it was your turn to giggle and you pulled him down to give him a quick kiss.
“I know, that’s why I let you do it” you told him and he smiled, leaning back down, and hugging you close.
“I plan on keeping you” he whispered into your skin and you smiled, a hand running through his hair, him still inside of you, and warming your heart for the first time all year.
“Baby we’re the new romantics”
#neil perry#neil perry fanfic#neil perry imagine#neil perry fic#neil perry x femreader#neil perry x reader#neil perry series#robert sean leonard#dead poets fanfic#dead poets headcanons#dead poets au#dead poets fandom#dead poets honor#dead poets aesthetic#dead poets society imagines#dead poets society#dead poets in nyc#dead poets society neil perry#neil perry smut#neil perry x todd anderson#charlie dalton#imagine#charlie dps#neil dps#dps headcanons#dps fandom#dps fanfiction#dps au#dps fic#dps boys
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THE LAST TIME
- ten out of the countless times you have seen neil perry, and nine where you saw him alive. (neil perry x gn! implied to be shy reader, fluff to angst, canon-typical main character death, major spoilers for dps but i assume you’ve watched it before, i included my own poetry so i hope y’all like it, sad face emoji i teared up while writing this).
word count: 9,006
a/n - thank you so so much to my beta readers @sorencd and @chuudidit for reading this massive piece, i appreciate you endlessly <3 this was definitely a labor of love, one that i took a considerable amount of time to write and edit. i adore dead poets society and poetry in general (i have written 130+ poems and never plan on stopping) so i definitely needed to put my thoughts into words lol 😭 anyways, i hope you enjoy, because i definitely enjoyed writing this for you.
When Neil Perry first saw you, and god, did he see you, he knew nothing would ever be the same again.
You were simply sitting there under the old tree just outside the borders of Welton with a book under your nose and the soft rays of a flashlight filtering through your hair. You had one knee up, holding the book in a gentle balancing act as he stared. Charlie gave him a nudge, eyebrows raised and a tease on the tip of his tongue, but Neil couldn’t even move. He was completely and utterly dumbstruck. The moon was hanging above your head, full and bright, drowning you in a poetic haze. You flipped a page and he could feel his heart beating in his chest. He thought he had never seen anything so beautiful before, and he had no idea why.
After a long minute, he peeled his gaze away from the figure under the tree and followed the other dead poets to their second ever meeting. From the corner of his eye, he swore he saw you glance up at him when he passed, but no one else seemed to notice.
When Neil and the poets were walking back to Welton, you weren’t there- something Neil noticed instantly. Of course, being who he was, Todd noticed that Neil noticed, and Charlie noticed that Todd noticed, and before he knew it, Neil and his fixation were the new tortured topics of the evening.
“Oh, love at first sight! The most beautiful kind.” Charlie teased, clasping his hands and spinning around. “How romantic.”
Neil shook his head, trying desperately to clear his suspicions. “It’s not like that. I swear, it’s not even a crush. I just thought it was weird.”
Cameron chimed in with a slightly hushed tone. At least he was aware of the fact that they were quickly approaching the earshot of every single person in Welton Academy. “I wonder where they came from. I mean, it couldn’t have been comfortable or safe to be out here at night. Especially alone.”
“Same. What do you think they were reading?” Neil responded, quick to try and put the teasing behind him. Despite his efforts, the teasing carried long into the night and the days following it. It seemed like nothing and no one would ever let him forget he ever saw you.
He would find out later that you were reading a poetry book.
He saw you for the second time on a trip to the main town. He recognized you instantly, from what little knowledge of you he had gained. You had the same hair, the same stature, the same book tucked under your arm as you peered into the musty old bookstore in the back corner. Just Todd was with him this time, and he definitely knew what was up.
Todd glanced at him, a warm expression on his face. Once again, Neil was entranced.
In the new glorious daylight, he noticed things he never could’ve before. The undertones of your hair, your skin, the way you seemed to glow even when you dipped into the shadows. He saw the pure beauty of you in a manner he had never seen anyone else in before. He took a step forward, pulled towards you somehow as his heart beat a mile a minute. The bookstore loomed over you, cracked and imperfect, yet casting the evening in a scene plucked out of a storybook. You turned, seeming to have seen him in the window’s reflection, and he flinched. He almost had a heart attack as his brain registered the color of your eyes and exactly how your mouth pulled up into a smile. Quickly turning away, he grabbed Todd’s sleeve and hightailed it out of there. Todd followed, as he always did. Neil was enamored, and Todd could tell.
“Do you think they saw me?” Neil gasped, pulling Todd into the square’s corner. He was panting lightly, red-cheeked, with a lopsided grin on his face. Todd had never seen him nervous, much less shy. In fact, he was the opposite- friendly, inclusive, and not the type to run away from a challenge. Something must have been different about you.
Todd raised his eyebrows. “Probably, Neil, they looked back.” He, too, saw your eyes, though he was mostly focused on the anxiety coursing through his veins rather than committing them to memory.
Neil’s gasping breaths were definitely louder than they needed to be. “Oh god, they definitely saw me. They probably think I’m a creep. Jesus, it’s definitely over.”
“What’s over?” Todd put a hand on his shoulder worriedly. “There was nothing there to begin with. They’re just a person, you’ll be fine.”
“Way to kill my dreams, Todd. Look, can you promise me that you won’t tell this to anyone else?” Neil asked, suddenly very serious. He glanced around like someone would waltz into the trash-filled and truthfully disgusting corner. The bathrooms were just around the bend, and he could smell it.
Intrigued, Todd nodded.
“I need you to say it. Promise me.” Neil whispered. His coat crinkled as he moved closer to Todd, the material dipping around his sweater. The fall air was the perfect background for whatever Neil was trying to get up to.
“I promise.”
Neil grinned boyishly and glanced around the corner again. “This is stupid, but I think I’m in love.” From the look in his eyes, Todd could definitely tell. His friend was suddenly more animated than he had been in a very long while, and he knew that he would do anything to keep him that way. His caution, however, took over.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. What if you never see them again?”
“And what if I do?” Neil breathed. “What if I see them tomorrow, or the next day, or a week from now? What if I see them every day of my life because I just went out and said something?”
Todd shook his head. “Just be careful, alright? There’s a very good chance that nothing will come of it.” Neil clasped Todd’s jacket, quirking his eyebrows.
“No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“Just no.”
The first time you saw Neil Perry, you didn’t even know you saw him. You were sitting under a tree, reading an Emily Dickinson book you bought in the town’s bookstore. It was a way to relax to you. A way to forget all of your troubles and just enjoy the wonders of the world. You don’t know why you picked that tree, or why you stayed so long you had to use the flashlight you so hastily packed, but life has its ways of pulling you towards something you didn’t know existed.
The scenery was absolutely beautiful, even at night. You wrapped your thick coat tightly around your shoulders. The fall leaves beneath you gave a crackle and the moon hung high above your head, slightly illuminating your page. Welton Academy loomed just outside of your line of sight. It was beautiful, too, but something about the cold stone walls made you shiver.
As time slipped away, you began to hear a hushed cacophony of boys around your age coming out of the school to the side of you. They had their hoods up, laughing and giggling like they were in some sort of secret club. You looked up, and one of them stopped dead in his tracks. You could see his breaths clouding in the night as the others urged him forward. Your eyes drifted back down to your book, as if you were embarrassed. The moment broke, and he was on his way.
You weren’t there for his return back to Welton.
The second time you saw him, you noticed him a lot more clearly. You were window shopping just outside of the bookstore. Even though the building was dusty and marred, it smelled like home. It smelled like stories and adventures and comfort. You were a frequent visitor to this place, and one of the owner’s best customers.
He often set up his new imports in the big, yellow-tinted window in front of you. As you gazed in, you noticed a face appear in the space next to you. You turned around partially, meeting his dark brown eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him.
It was an electric moment. His lips were slightly parted, and the gray clouds above him were engorged with unshed tears. You gaped at him, dumbfounded, as milliseconds ticked away like hours.
Before you knew it, he had sped away with his friend in tow. Huh, you hadn’t even noticed he had a friend. All you could think about was the fact that he looked familiar, and the fact that he was the most handsome boy you had ever had the pleasure of locking eyes with.
His stature reminded you of the boy by the tree, the boy from Welton Academy. There was just something about him that screamed “you saw him once in a dream”.
Somehow, you thought one simple thought: you were in love with someone you did not know.
When Neil saw you for the third time, and the third time you saw him, he worked up the courage to talk to you.
Mr. Keating was instructing the boys outside yet again. They were in the courtyard, taking inspiration from the world around them. From leaves, patches of mud, anything that struck their fancy.
You were taking a walk by campus. Once again, you didn’t know why; you just were. The boys were not a quiet group, and you could hear their shouts very clearly. You strained your ears, hoping to hear one voice in particular. Of course, you didn’t know what his voice sounded like, but you were listening anyway. If you were right, and he was a boy from Welton, maybe you might be able to catch a word or two.
That’s when Neil spotted the person walking loops around the front of campus. Maybe, for the first time, you could be his inspiration.
He looked over his shoulder, quickly trying to assess whether he could slip away unnoticed or not. No one seemed to be looking at him. He left his group behind and jogged up next to you.
You saw him coming. Even from a distance, you knew it was him. Your heart began to pound in your ears, loud and fast and just a little bit lovesick. You were right.
“Hey!” He exclaimed. You took a small step back. Your nerves were on their highest setting and your mind was reeling. What did he think of you, you wondered. More importantly, who was he?
As he approached, you put on your best nervous smile. “Hi.”
“My name’s Neil.” He said, reaching out a hand for you to shake. You complied quickly, saying your own name in turn. His palms were slightly damp, but you couldn’t blame him. Yours were probably worse.
The moment your hand held his, fitting perfectly under his fingers, he knew you were made for him. “I saw you in town the other day. Do you like books?”
Your voice was hesitant, unsure, and Neil wished he could reach out and smooth the wrinkles in the sound like an old coat. “Yeah.”
“What were you reading?” Neil asked. He tried to stamp down his own nerves, but something about you made his breaths flutter in and out like butterfly wings. It was a feeling he was completely and entirely new to.
You shifted the bag on your shoulder to your hands, reaching in to pull out the book. “Oh, Poems by Emily Dickinson. It’s not the traditional type of book, but I love poetry.” Your cheeks began to warm. You knew nothing about this boy. What if he thought poetry was stupid, just a lesson in his English class and nothing else? How could anyone know how much those words meant to you?
Neil beamed, big and wide and lovesick. You truly were perfect for him, he thought. Poetry. You certainly were poetic, with those gorgeous eyes and an equally beautiful mind. “I love poetry too.” He breathed.
Your tense smile turned genuine. “You do? That’s awesome.” A quiet flutter started to pick up in your heart.
“Yeah. You know what?” He grinned, “my friends and I have a sort of poetry club. The dead poets society- we do readings, original works, whatever the members are feeling at the moment.” He sucked in a silent breath, pausing just enough to let his reeling mind decide on what he wanted to say. “It’s at night in the old Indian cave.” You nodded along to his words, growing increasingly intrigued the further he carried on. This dead poets society began to excite you. It was all you ever wanted in life: a community of like-minded people sharing the verses that made your heart tick. “If you want, I mean, you should go to our next meeting. It’s tonight.” Neil offered. He could tell his words were cycling through your mind, finally catching up to his proposal.
You wanted to join the dead poets society so badly it made your heart ache. A little inkling, though, in the back of your head, sparked a pit in your stomach. “Would your friends be okay with me being there? I… I don’t exactly know them.”
Neil was head over heels. You were so wonderfully lively, in the way that a breeze touching his eyelashes with the tips of its fingers would be. You were exactly how he expected, and exactly who he needed.
He waved away your concern with the flip of a hand and a laugh. “Don’t worry about it. The others bring guests too, and gosh, I’m sure they’re going to love you! Especially Todd. I’m sure you two would get along real well.”
“Then I’ll definitely be there.” You replied. The sparkle in your eye shot Neil at full force. You were excited, smiling, happy. He made you happy. He mentally patted himself on the back.
“Great!” Leaves rustled from behind Neil, and you could see a group of boys approaching in the near distance. “Shoot. I gotta go, but make sure to show up. I’ll be waiting for you.” He whispered, leaning in closer to you before turning around to walk towards the group. You felt cold air where he had once been, and you wished for a moment that he would come back. His friends, however, were hooting and hollering, and you thought you could hear a kissy noise or two. You shook your head, a shaky warmth creeping its way up your neck, before turning to walk away.
You were going to go to a secret meeting in a secret cave at a hauntingly secret hour, and you had never been quite so excited in your entire life.
The fourth time you saw each other was the dead poets society meeting. You were brimming with nerves beforehand, shaking fingers gathering your materials as you tried to prepare for waltzing into a place with people entirely unknown to you. The bag you were holding contained a couple of your favorite poetry books, your own poems scratched in the empty spaces on certain pages that really inspired you. You weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to read a poem out loud, especially your own work, but earlier in the evening, you resolved to “go with the flow” and do what the others were doing. You hoped you wouldn’t have to regret that decision later.
After putting everything together and making sure to turn off your light and close your door, you slipped out of your house into the black night.
The scenery on your walk was entirely too beautiful. You never noticed just how much the bark on trees formed swirling patterns, or how the stars seemed to twinkle on their own. The ground under your feet was littered with fallen leaves in fiery shades and clumps of moist dirt. You began to smile just a little bit, thinking of a poem you had written when autumn had first started. That is surely what you would say if the dead poets wanted you to speak.
Nothing felt greater than breathing in the crisp, cold air and swinging your arms as you stepped along the path less traveled on.
When you finally reached the cave, heart significantly lighter, the sound of laughter floated up to your ears. It was bountiful and boyish and beautiful. You peered around the edge of the cave entrance, and Neil’s eye immediately caught on you.
“Come in, come in! We’re just about to begin.” He called. You stepped fully into the light and glanced around at your company.
They were giggling and shoving, gaping at you and Neil with a sort of uncertain certainty. Some were standing, some sitting, a couple moving around, and all of them male. You took a seat next to Neil, between him and the boy you saw with him in town. He gave you a meaningful nod and looked to Neil, who was opening an old, thick book. He was frightened to so much as speak in front of you, as silly as it might have seemed.
“Attention, dead poets. Today is another wonderful night.” He announced, voice deep and commanding and humorously theatrical. “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately… I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life! To put to rout all that was not life… And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived…” His voice trailed off, and someone from the back of the cave echoed his last word. He closed the book with a snap, and the boys began to murmur excitedly.
Neil took a seat and turned to you, a glimmer of something sweet in his eye. When he looked at you, all he saw was magnificence. “Who wants to start?”
A boy jumped up. In his fist was a crumpled piece of paper, which he made a show of unfolding. “For those of you who don’t know,” He said, with a pointed glance at you, “my name is Nuwanda, and today, I actually made a poem.”
A couple boys yelled in support, and Neil gave you a nudge. “Charlie Dalton.” He whispered, making sure to not alert the others. You thanked him with a shy nod. Then, as “Nuwanda” was starting to begin his woefully homemade poem, Neil put his arm around your shoulders.
His touch sent jitters through your entire body, lighting you up like a firework. It just felt so right, so natural, so breathtaking. It felt exactly like shaking his hand and feeling his eyes and seeing his breath hang in the air- like it was destined, written in the stars, utterly perfect. You leaned into his touch, feeling his warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and shoulder. “To live, to learn, to die,
my boys,
to see, to love, to burn.
To touch, to know, to harm,
my dear,
to eat, to reap, to sow.”
Charlie recited. For someone who seemingly took poetry lightly, he wasn’t particularly bad. He put more passion into his words than most other boys you knew. In fact, you’re sure he would be a great writer if he put more than an ounce of effort into it.
He took a bow as the room erupted into applause, Neil’s arm still wrapped around you. He could feel it too, the electricity. He wanted nothing more than to bottle that feeling and keep it forever.
Charlie sat, staring at you and Neil with a smirk on the corners of his lips. “Hey, why don’t we let our guest take a crack at it?”
The cave filled with a rumble of excitement from all of the poets. Neil’s brows were furrowed, but he gave an urge of support anyway. “If you want to, of course.”
You wanted to. Energy thrummed throughout your company, filling you with a sense of confidence you rarely had anywhere else. For once, you truly wanted to speak up. The air was crackling with a sense of anxious anticipation, and you could smell the love each boy held for each other. They knew, somehow, that the moment meant a lot to Neil, and they were willing to put aside any inhibitions to help him enjoy the night.
“I’ll go.” You uttered. Neil’s face lit up as his previous worries slunk away into the night.
You pulled out a book from your usual bag and opened it to the page you knew so well you could recite the poem it held without looking. And, of course, your own poem was scribbled in the margins.
Everyone was attempting to peer over your shoulder, to take a glimpse of what made you a poet. Having attention on you was an odd feeling, like ants crawling along the back of your spine. You took a deep breath. “When you die,
the beetles will still sing.
The trout will still jump,
and the earth will still rumble.
When you die, the moon will still turn
and the stars will still burn.
When you die,
The lakes will still ripple
and the trees will still creak
and I will lower you into the ground
and I will cry so hard the world stops moving.”
As the last words left your lips, a profound silence enveloped the group. Then, all at once, it exploded.
“We’ve got a real poet in here!” Came Charlie’s teasing (yet not entirely unkind) voice. “Truly Keating material. What sparked your creative melancholy?”
You felt yourself glowing as you sat. If you were being honest, you never could have imagined that anyone would genuinely enjoy your work. That notion was entirely unfounded and untrue, considering they were a group of poets, but it persisted nonetheless. “I don’t know, really. Just the notion of losing a loved one, I suppose.”
When Neil saw you, in that moment, when he heard your voice, he couldn’t breathe. He knew so little about you, yet you pumped his pulse up to be as fast as a racehorse. He wanted, no, he needed to learn everything that made you you. He needed to know what you looked like when waking up in the morning, or how your fingers felt threading through his hair, or your deepest, most desperate passions. He needed to be so close to you he could feel your heartbeat through the fabric of your shirt. He was intrigued.
When he first discovered acting, he felt the same exact way- a burning desire to learn, to know, to discover. If you let him, he would recite his lines all the way into your heart.
The meeting continued as the sky grew ever darker, complete with poems and rhymes and words spoken in deliberately lyrical tones. You fell into every verse and every story as easily as you would if they were written in a book. You began to learn every name in the room, and they quickly caught on to yours. It was a community, a group of people that began to feel like home.
Of course, by the time they decided to end things, the stars were full and bright. The sun would surely peek its head out of the fog in a couple hours. You were smiling harder and more genuinely than you ever had before, with Neil by your side, and Todd on your other. As they all stood up to leave with boisterous whispers, Neil turned to you.
“Will you come tomorrow? And the next, and every day after that?” His question was so excited, so innocent, like he didn’t know that you would kill for the chance to be near him and everything he held dear.
You smiled. “Of course. I’ll be a dead poet for life.”
Your eighth encounter with Neil was not a lucky twist of fate. He got permission to leave school for some something or other that you never bothered to find out. Now, it was just you two and the big town square looming in front of you.
In truth, it wasn’t that big, but when you’re standing at the beginning of a new day with the boy that holds your heart, everything feels intense.
He took hold of the sleeve of your sweater, as he so often did, and you descended upon the shops.
“Come on, you’ve absolutely got to try the milkshakes at Tom’s Ice Cream Parlor! They’re just the best. Hurry, hurry!” He tugged you along, a bright smile on his face. God, how you loved him.
You had grown closer in the past five dead poets society meetings. Often, he would stay with you in the cave long after the meetings had ended. You would talk about whatever crossed your mind in the moment, and he would spin stories out of thin air. He didn’t ever seem to talk about real life things, though. His work at school, sure, but anything outside of that was uncharted territory. When you asked him about his family, he just clammed up.
You laughed as he weaved through the clumps of people with you in tow. “Slow down, Neil! You’re gonna get us killed.”
The sound of your voice, especially your laugh, was something Neil had come to relish. He would keep you talking all day if it meant he could hear that giddy ring in his ears every time he craved your presence. “You’ve just got to go faster. The line is horrific at this time of day.”
“This place had better be good.”
“It is, believe me. It’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”
When you arrived, bodies hot and just a little uncomfortably sweaty, the sight of the ice cream parlor was a welcome one. He led you through the doors and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. You wished you could do it for him. The line was, unsurprisingly, quite long. You made idle chat, but his words fell on deaf ears as you stared at him.
“…he was real impressed when Charlie played his sax. Mr. Nolan, though, he definitely wasn’t-“ And, before you could think about it, before the screaming in your head could tell you no, you reached up and smoothed the cowlick that always seemed to mess up his part. When you pulled your hand away, he was beaming.
“Thanks.” He said, simply. You smiled back at him.
“No problem. So, what happened to Charlie afterwards?” You questioned. Neil gave you a look, one you had come to realize meant “I’ll tell you later”.
As you stood three people away from the front counter, Neil fumbled around in his pockets. “Shoot, I could’ve sworn I brought more money than this…” He muttered. He pulled out a dime and three pennies, all slightly covered in the fuzz from his jacket pocket. “I’m sorry. I don’t know, I must’ve spaced out- I’m usually so good about things like this.”
You took his arm with one hand and slipped the other in your pocket, rooting around for any spare change you had. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I have more than enough.”
You did not, in fact, have more than enough. You had a single quarter and a spare button. Pooled together, you could get exactly one milkshake and have his three pennies left over. Neil looked at you regretfully.
“You take it. I’ll get one another time.” He said, putting on a smile. “I’ve had too many sweet things today anyways.”
You would not accept this as an answer. Not here, not now. He deserved all the good things life had to offer, and you would be damned if he didn’t get them- starting with this milkshake. “It’s alright, you have it.”
Neil looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. “You should have it, really.” He would be damned if you didn’t get what he dragged you out here to experience. If he could see your face, smiling and sticky-lipped, after taking a sip from something he contributed to, he would be the happiest man on earth.
The back-and-forth was getting nowhere and you both knew it. “Why don’t we just share it then? Ask for two straws?” You sighed. “It’s the best solution.”
He paused. It wasn’t ideal, and it wasn’t the life he wanted to give you (if this was any indicator), but it would work. Everything would work as long as you were there. “Okay. Yeah, let’s do that.”
There was another quick conversation about which flavor to choose, but you settled on one that you both liked equal amounts. You discovered that he had far different tastes than you milkshake-wise. If you were any less filtered, you would’ve told him his opinions were downright wrong.
You sat with him, smiling so hard you thought your face would break as he finally told you what happened to Charlie. Apparently, Nolan had reprimanded him as he so often had to do, but Charlie couldn’t stop smiling during the lecture. Eventually, Nolan just stopped mid-sentence and ushered the boy out the door. Apparently nothing and no one could ever crush Charlie’s spirit, not even the hardships of wooden rulers.
You leaned in to take a sip absentmindedly. As you reached your straw, you felt the tip of Neil’s nose brush against yours, and you realized you were so close to him you were almost kissing. You pulled back quickly, a hotness enveloping your cheeks.
“Sorry.” You uttered, trying not to look him in the eye. You were so mortified you almost killed yourself on the spot.
Neil, however, was overjoyed. He felt your breath on his chin and it was all he could think about. You, close to him, like you would’ve touched him if you hadn’t pulled away. He relished the feeling.
He shrugged, trying in vain to make it seem like he was just simply all right with it. “It wasn’t a problem,” He said, before noticing that the milkshake was running dangerously low. “Hey, why don’t you take the last sip?”
You cocked your head slightly. “Why?”
“Because I never want to be the one to end it.” He grinned. You shook your head, the corners of your lips rising up as he let out a little laugh. You adored his laugh.
“If you say so.”
That conversation stuck with you a long time after it happened.
It took four more dead poets meetings for Neil to ask you to go somewhere with him again. By the twelfth experience, though, you knew him like the back of your hand.
He loved acting. Loved it. He loved it so desperately that he was willing to face the wrath of his father to pursue the play he was casted in. Oh, and you learned about his father through whispers, mostly from Charlie. Neil, he told you, would never say a word about him. Tyrannical, inhospitable, red-hot like fire and ice-cold like ice. You knew of his mother, too, and her quiet indifference. Neil held a special place in his heart for Todd, the new boy at Welton. He loved puppies and poetry and soft scarves. Not the scratchy ones, as those irritated his neck. He wanted to be an actor in the future, but his father wanted him to be a doctor. He loved so many things, and yet could not have them; however, he definitely hated when people felt sorry for him.
So, you weren’t sorry. You felt his desires like a burning in your gut, stripped away piece by piece, but you were not sorry. You loved him.
You needed him to be fulfilled in every way possible, and you were not sorry. He was going through so many conflicting things, and you were not sorry. You were hopeful.
Life would turn around, you told him. He would see. In ten years, he would be on Broadway, waving at you and Todd and Charlie from the stage. He would be great, and you knew it.
“I’ve never skated like this before. Are you sure it’s safe?” You asked, standing at the edge of Welton’s lake. It was late in fall, with powdery snow dusting the edges of the ground, but the lake may have been in the process of freezing still. Neil took your gloved hands.
“Trust me, it’s good.”
He often asked you to trust him, and you always did. There was just something in his deep, dark eyes that whispered exactly how strong he was.
You took a tentative step onto the ice, nose already feeling the cold burn of pre-winter air. The ground under your feet was slick, but it held. Neil walked backwards, gently guiding you, and you followed.
You found a sort of rhythm in the movements, pushing off with your feet and letting them slide forward on the ice. Neil’s face was tinged with red as you skated on flat shoes, never letting go of your hands. You laughed, truly and honestly. The world spun around you in a blur, white and brown and beautiful. The air snuck through the gaps on your clothes, but you did not care. In that second, it was just you and Neil and the most beautiful day you had ever known.
His eyes softened when he looked at you. Even through the lack of words, he knew exactly what you were thinking. That crinkle by your eyes, the curve of your lips, your laugh. You were content, happy even, because he brought you here. When you reached the middle of the lake, leaning against him, trusting him, he felt a fluttering in his stomach.
Throughout his days with you, he had come to discover the person behind the book, behind the shy smile. He could firmly say that he knew you, and he loved you even more for it.
He knew your favorite book, which jokes made you laugh so hard tears formed in your eyes, your favorite ice cream flavor. It wasn’t his, but it was completely and entirely you. There was nothing he adored more in the world than you.
You stared at him with a smile gracing your lips as you came to a stop. He reached his hand up to your face and brushed a small snowflake away from the corner of your mouth gently. His hands were soft.
He leaned in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his face. It was now or never, he thought. Carpe diem.
Neil pressed his lips to yours, and all of your feelings exploded from your connected flesh like dynamite.
He was warm, so warm. You kissed him fervently with your arms wrapped around his shoulders like you were dancing. He had finally done it, put to action the kind thoughts he had expressed, and you were glowing. There were stars in your tightly shut eyes, and you reveled in how they spun.
Neil’s mind was racing as you didn’t pull away. He didn’t know what he expected, but you pulling him closer was not his first thought. He most definitely didn’t mind.
When you finally broke the kiss, you were both panting feverishly and looking starved for more. Your combined breaths hung in front of your faces.
“We should do that again.” He whispered. You huffed a laugh, feeling every bit as blushy as he looked.
“Only if you’re okay with never stopping.”
It was a week and a half before Neil’s big play, and the twenty-fourth (maybe twenty-fifth, you had lost count) time you saw him. It was also your tenth official date.
“Date” may have been a loose term, as it was more practicing lines than talking, but the atmosphere was quiet and calm at the café you sat in. There were grainy pictures of favorite customers on the wall and the chairs were just the right amount of wobbly. It felt like a place where you could relax without abandon. Neil’s hand was on top of yours and he was staring deep into your eyes as he spoke line after line, trying to steel his nerves and push past the stress of his approaching deadline.
“If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended, that you have but slumber’d here while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream, gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend: and, as I am an honest Puck, if we have unearned luck…” He hesitated for a moment, eyes unfocused. You squeezed his hand in support and he gave you a small smile. Clearing his throat, he continued. “…now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue, we will make amends ere long; else the Puck a liar call; so, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.”
You gave a quiet cheer and clasped your hands together. “I think that was your best runthrough yet! I’m so proud of you.”
His eyes lit up as he gazed at you bashfully. “You think?”
“Absolutely. You’re good, you’re really good. You could probably perform tomorrow if you wanted to.” He smiled and ran his fingers over his fleece sleeves as you spoke. If you were in the audience, he was sure he would be able to do anything. “In fact, you could perform any time you wanted to. You’re just that amazing.”
You were so impressed by the sheer amount of talent and emotion he had that you just couldn’t help but smother him in compliments. Every single one was true.
Neil tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, blushing like a madman. Every time you said something kind about him, his heart leapt for joy. “What about you? What have you been working on?” He posed. He had heard your poetry before, of course, but you always seemed to be creating something new.
You pulled out a book from the bag sitting next to you and flipped around. There was one specific poem you wanted him to hear. One you had written about him.
When you found it, you turned the book sideways so you both could see and pointed at it. “This one.” Neil tilted his head, opening his mouth to read it aloud. “I think,
if I was blind,
I would still know your face.
The curve of your nose would call to me
and your eyelids would flutter under my touch.
There is no one else, no one at all
who could make the pads of my fingers
see the entire world.”
He gazed up at you with a starstruck expression. “Is this about anyone in particular?” Neil leaned forward and dipped his head down to rest on his propped-up hand. He had a grin on his face. He absolutely knew who it was about.
“I wrote that one for Meeks. He’s just so cute, don’t you think?” You teased. Neil’s mouth dropped open as his expression turned to comical shock.
“I’m wounded, my love! How dare you.” He shouted, throwing his arms up. You started laughing as he continued his theatrical expressions, much to the dismay of the café workers.
“Be careful, we might get thrown out!”
“I’ll throw you out myself if you don’t stop laughing at my demise.” He furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched his nose as you giggled from your seat. “I’m so lucky to have you.” He murmured, suddenly as soft as a spring rain. You ran your fingers over his hand underneath the table, finding every groove like it was your own.
“And I’m lucky to have you. I love you, you know.”
Neil smiled gently. “I love you too. So much.”
You sat in that café for a few hours more, until the workers had to politely remind you of their closing hours. You laughed and talked and felt the sheer joy of being with the boy you had begun to consider your soulmate. He was a star, shining his light and illuminating you with his rays. Too often, however, the brightest lights fade within the snap of a finger.
“I hope that when I die,” Neil wrote, right before your thirty-first meeting,
“God will send me back to Earth.
He will say,
‘Live again. Run again,
hope again,
plunge your body into ice-cold water again.
Hate again,
and cry again,
run your fingers through the grass again.
Kiss them again,
press your palms to their faces again,
and lose them again.
Let yourself feel again,
and never forget
that life is what matters,
not death.’
And I will say,
‘I promise
to do everything I have ever told myself I could not do
again and again and again.’”
He closed his journal with a thump and tucked it into his drawer calmly. That was something he would rather not share with anyone, not even you.
The day was cold and drizzly, but he stood up with a kind of manic smile. He walked out of the doors of Welton and into your awaiting arms.
You both sat down on a park bench under the cover of a tree. Your seats were slightly wet and very cold, but it didn’t matter all that much. You were just glad to be there with him, with Neil. He was the love of your life, and any time with him was well-spent.
“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly. He was the same as he always was, you thought. But his eyes were welling up with tears and you just felt the need to ask, like some unearthly force was telling you that you needed to.
He leaned back, putting his arm around the back of the bench with a sigh. “I’m trapped.” He was smiling, but there was such an utter lack of humor behind it that it made you shiver. You shifted closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder as a silent sign of comfort. By this point, knew everything there was to know about Neil Perry- even the parts he tried to keep hidden.
“How so?”
“I don’t even know, I just… I want to be an actor. That is what I want to do for the rest of my life. But I can’t, and I’m trapped, and no one can help me, no matter how much they try.” His voice was sullen, but he was still smiling. Curse him for trying to make you feel better even then.
You placed a kiss on the back of his hand and threaded your fingers through his. Your heart ached for him. You knew there was nothing you could do about it, though, and that’s what made it even harder. Holding his hand, telling him it’ll all work out, everything ultimately did nothing for his situation, and you cursed the being that forced him into this position. If you could scream into the night, into the big, black sky to execrate the universe, you would. You did, in the future. You regretted not doing it sooner.
“I’m sorry.” You started, squeezing his hand. “ Just keep going, alright? I promise you, in the future, none of this will matter at all. You just have to stick with it. The world will find a way of figuring it out.”
His face formed a more genuine smile as he laid his head on top of yours. “Yeah. I guess it will.”
The last time Neil Perry saw you was the night he had been anticipating, dreaming about, and dreading: the night of his play. He was prepared. He knew every line and cue by heart, and yet he was still nervous. He was so nervous he could hardly think.
He stood behind the curtains listening to the chatter of the audience. The rest of the cast members and some of the technicians were scrambling to put everything in place, but he just stared at the dark walls of fabric separating him from his new life. That was it. He was going to put on the best performance of his goddamn life.
The lights dimmed, and he stepped away to take his place.
When it was finally time for him to make his entrance, Neil did it with flourish. “How now, spirit! whither wander you?” He spoke. Cheers came from the audience, whoops and hollers from the dead poets. He could hardly keep himself from smiling.
Then, he saw you. You were grinning wide and large from your seat, giving him that quiet encouragement he had always loved. You whispered his name, and Neil could hear it in his heart.
He was having fun. So much fun. With every line he spoke, with every movement he made, Neil was sinking deeper and deeper into the play and his love for acting. He didn’t remember the last time he had ever felt that alive.
But with every sinking, there comes a point where one drowns.
His father was there. When had he come? Neil hadn’t seen him before. God. He was burning a hole in the back of his head with his piercing gaze, and it took everything in Neil not to turn and run. That was it, he thought. He was done. But gods be good, he was going to finish his play. He would not let his father ruin this for him.
By the time he was speaking his last lines, the ones he had practiced with you, he barely remembered his father was part of the audience. The curtains closed, and the audience exploded into cheers. He could hear your voice, he swore he could- he was the happiest man on Earth. He had put on the performance of his lifetime, and he couldn’t be more proud. Until, of course, he was dragged out the door by his father.
He was back home before he had even registered his father’s anger. All he could feel was emptiness as the gnawing hole in his stomach expanded to encompass his entire being.
“We're trying very hard to understand why it is that you insist on defying us. Whatever the reason, we're not gonna let you ruin your life. Tomorrow I'm withdrawing you from Welton and enrolling you in Braden Military School. You're going to Harvard and you're gonna be a doctor.” His father stated, eyes sharp. Neil let out a noise of protest.
“But that's ten more years. Father, that's a lifetime! I won’t be able to see any of them again, not one person I knew before. You can’t do this to me, you just can’t.” Tears formed in Neil’s eyes, and as he looked at his mother, she was feeling the same way. And yet she said nothing. He could feel himself becoming increasingly more desperate.
His father scoffed. “Oh, stop it. Don't be so dramatic. You make it sound like a prison term. You don't understand, Neil. You have opportunities that I never even dreamt of and I am not going to let you waste them.”
Neil rose to his feet, suddenly angry. He needed to fight for this, for himself. He couldn’t just let one man take away everything he had ever loved. If he couldn’t see you, his friends, if he couldn’t act, there was no purpose in his life. “I've got to tell you what I feel.”
Neil’s mother reached for him. “We’ve been so worried about-“
“What? What? Tell me what you feel. What is it? Is it more of this, this acting business? Because you can forget that. What?” And just like that, it was gone. Neil sat back down, staring blankly at his lap. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do anything because he was just a stupid boy who wouldn’t listen. His father scoffed once again before leaving the room.
His mother, ever the soft one, paused.
“I was good. I was really good.” He whispered. She sighed, urging him to his feet.
“Go on, get some sleep.”
Neil nodded, still in a trance, before trudging to his room. That was it. He was done. He would never see you again, no matter what, and it hurt him so badly he didn’t know what else to do. He ran his fingers over his things lightly before removing his shirt. That was it. He grasped his crown of twigs and placed it on his head, staring out through his open window. The cool air kissed his body sweetly, like your lips on a rainy day. He took a deep breath.
It was time for his last act, his curtain call, his final carpe diem. There was no warning, and yet there did not need to be one. That night, that cold, bitter night, he knew what he needed to do.
The last time you saw Neil Perry, he didn’t see you. He couldn’t see you. It was December 18th, and you had been asked to read a poem at his funeral.
God, the word “funeral” hit you like a train. Neil was dead. His sweet demeanor, his gentle words, his soft hair, they were all going to be covered in dirt within the next few hours. You couldn’t stand it. The world needed so much more of him, but terribly, horribly, the world did not deserve it. No one deserved him.
It was odd, you thought, how the sound of one gunshot could replay over and over again in your mind without you ever having heard it at all. The boom, the thud, the scream. It was all so clear in your mind.
As the priest spoke, you felt an emptiness pool in your guts. He was really gone. Your Neil, your poor Neil. You sat between Charlie and Todd, all three of your faces streaked with tears. You could feel more welling up in your eyes, and you let them free without a care. Neil was dead, and nothing else in the world mattered.
In a way, you couldn’t believe it. He was just here, warm and happy and yours. When you got that phone call, you almost joined him. Nothing was worth it anymore, nothing at all. The eulogies, the sobs, they faded into the background as you stared down at the ground.
Before you knew what was happening, you were standing at a podium with a piece of paper clutched between your shaking fingers. Neil’s mom looked up at you in silent support.
You took a breath, so much like the breaths you always took before reading a poem and yet so different. Neil could not hear this one.
“When you died,
the beetles still sang.
The trout still jumped,
and the earth still rumbled.
When you died, the moon still turned
and the stars still burned.
When you died,” Your voice cracked. Looking out into the audience, at people you didn’t know and people you knew so well you could identify them by a strand of their hair, it was too much. Hot tears slipped their way down your face as the pit in your stomach grew ever-wider.
“The lakes still rippled
and the trees still creaked
and I lowered you into the ground
and I cried so hard the world stopped moving.”
There was a murmur throughout the audience, choked sobs and utters of agreement. “For Neil, who lived as he died and died as he lived.” You rasped.
You were quickly ushered away from the podium and back into your seat.
Neil was one in a million. There was no one else in the history of ever that could make you feel so amazing. Like you were a real person, like you mattered. He made everyone feel that way, but something in him burned for you in a way that you believed was unique. And, of course, you burned for him the same.
The rest of the service went by in a blur. Everyone around you began to get up, and you knew it was time. As you sat there, still as a rock, when everyone went to say their final farewells, you were extinguished.
You felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. When you looked up from your tear-soaked lap, Todd was there, and he clasped your hand. “Let’s go.” He whispered. “Let’s say goodbye.”
You pulled a page from the book by your feet and shoved it into your pocket. It was for him, it always was and it always had been.
“In some other universe, I found you again.
Maybe in this one we held hands, gently and honestly,
or leaned against each other’s shoulders on the train,
or sobbed against each other’s shirts when we crashed and burned,
because anything with you
means flying too close to the sun.” It read.
As you stood in front of his casket, you could hardly bear to focus on his pale face.
He was cold, so cold. The embalmer had done well with his head, but there was so much that just looked off. He didn’t look like your Neil. He looked empty. You gripped his hand and brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. It was winter, and he was colder and paler than the snow.
You held him far longer than what was deemed socially acceptable before tucking the page into his lapel and swiftly walking away.
You weren’t there for his burial, and you knew you couldn’t be. It was just too much. If you had seen his casket close, if you had watched them shovel dirt on top of the wooden box, you would’ve dropped to your knees and screamed. Much like you’re doing now.
You sat on that same old park bench, knees clutched up to your soaked chest, sobbing harder than you ever had before. Your Neil was gone and you could never see him again, not ever.
When you saw Neil Perry for the last time, and god, did you see him, you knew nothing would ever be the same again.
#solar eclipse.#neil perry x reader#neil perry#neil perry imagine#dead poets society x reader#dead poets society#dead poets fandom#dead poets fanfic#dps fandom#dps hcs#dps fanfiction#dps boys#dps fic#dps#x reader#angst#fluff
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heyy! could you do hcs where the reader is a female and is ganke's cousin and she just moved to brooklyn from korea and then she meets miles at the brooklyn visions academy and miles fell first but she fell harder?? tysm if you will do it!
that's your cousin?? [42 + 1610!Miles × f!reader]
summary: he fell first, but she fell harder. headcanons!
warning: swear words.
note: she/her for reader, he/him for miles, he/him for ganke.
created: august 20, 2023
published: august 21, 2023
earth-1610 [miles morales]
he fell first
she was the first thing miles noticed when he got into physics class.
headphone plugged in her ears, the sun from the window shining on the side of her face. her fingers twisting and turning, playing with the pen in her hand as she read a comic book.
baby deer is mesmerised.
miles was in complete awestruck
to the point their teacher told him to sit down because he's frozen in his spot, staring at her.
miles took a seat next to her.
he was awkwardly fidgeting, stealing glances at her every now and then.
he wants to talk but doesn't know how to start :(
at the cafeteria, miles is sitting down brainstorming how he will talk to her.
he didn't expect her to sit right in front of him.
she talked to his roommate in korean, though it was more like they're arguing over the food choice.
she left shortly to fetch something while ganke ate
"hey, ganke. you know the new girl?"
"[name]? yeah, she's my cousin."
"that's your cousin???"
[name] retreated back before he could ask anymore questions
the next day in physics, he sat in the same seat again.
he's writing a script about how he will talk to her and how the conversation would go if he said something like this and like that.
he heard her humming to his favourite song, sunflower; as she sat next to him.
he panicked for a second because [name] knew his favourite song was not on the script
"uh, hey. you like sunflower too?"
boy, he's sweating like crazy when he only received a side eye.
"y'know...the song? heh, i uh, like that song, too..." he's biting the inside of his cheek, wanting the floor to swallow him whole.
"i guess it's not so bad."
that simple comment made his day bright. he looked back, with a smiley smiley face, but wipe it off. like, it's cool. she's cool, he's cool, everything is cool.
"yeah, yeah uh.. it's sounds okay."
[name] hides a snort because she can clearly see how happy he is at something.
"hey, i didn't catch your —"
the teacher shushed him, and it got him embarrassed.
he was doing a good job talking with her, and now he looks like someone who doesn't listen to classes.
he's literally have a :( face.
"[name] [lastname]"
her voice echoed and he's awestruck again, and thinking; "she talks to me again! she likes me too!"
"oh uh, I'm miles. miles morales." he made sure he repeated his first name like those cool dude introduced themselves in action films.
and his uncle aaron used to do that too.
do not even get me to the shoulder touch.
she was by her locker and then closed the door and saw miles standing there, waiting for her.
the original plan in his head is he's gonna do the shoulder touch and then ask her if she wanna hang out after school.
and his prayers are not enough.
"hi?" she looked at him sceptical.
— it was so awkward, and miles made it even worse when he put a hand on her shoulder and made a ... some sort of face at her
"hey."
his one brow is rised, it's like he's smiling but also not?
[name] literally have "??????" flying over her head. and look at him weirdly.
"hey?" she repeated his word in a question matter.
miles felt sad after that because he thought she wouldn't talk to him anymore and that he look so weird in her perspective.
but [name] act like that awkward moment never happen to save miles' whole being.
and he's so grateful for her to do that.
she fell harder
how can she not fall for him? he's an absolute sweetheart!
miles invites her to all his hangouts with ganke
(ganke doesn't give a shit but it bothers him a bit that his roommate have heart eyes for his cousin)
sometimes, he brought to her different places in brooklyn. and even if there's a warning sign, it didn't stop her from going with him.
miles treated her so well it makes her heart go BOOM BOOM BOOM
he always has a hand out to help her up, like she wants to get up and his hand is out.
"let me help you up," was always his dialogue for her.
he also pays for her food.
(she and ganke fought about who's miles' favorite)
(in korean of course. no way they let miles heard it.)
he likes to leave little gifts for her.
mostly it was little notes and drawings.
sometimes it was a freshly picked sunflower, or sometimes he gave her a full-grown [fav.flower]
she doesn't know how he got it in a city but didn't question it.
the fact that miles is just expressing his feelings, [name] feel more and more appreciated.
no boy can ever top miles.
[name] is not used to his act of service.
she refuses, knowing she can handle it herself.
but only accept when he insisted or when he looks disappointed.
miles do it all the time, that it became a routine for him <33
to the point that [name] also got used to his sweet actions and unconsciously sought it T_T
(ganke was force to get use to it)
she noticed she feels more giddy with him
she knew she fell when miles stuttered a few words in her mother tongue.
in her head, she was screaming, "HE LEARN HER LANGUAGE SO SHE CAN TALK EASILY TO HIM"
while miles want to jump off the window by how stupid he thinks he sounds.
miles did so much for her. she always returned it back as well. <33
miles is too flustered to even keep his "cool" demeanour whenever she left little notes like he always do
little cousin is forced again to participate (she made ganke give miles her old art materials that still work)
of course, she finds out he's spiderman.
she wasn't allowed to go to the boy's dormitory and vice versa.
but she couldn't take it anymore when her cousin "borrowed" her comic book and hasn't given back for over 5 months and it's pissing her off because she knew ganke can be careless with her things.
she opened the door unannounced and saw something she shouldn't
miles was trying to take off his suit but is stuck, and ganke is helping by pulling it as well.
[name] awkwardly close the door.
with a flaming crimson face, before bolting to her dorm.
miles is slamming his head repeatedly on the wall.
ganke was a little worried that miles' secret is revealed to his cousin, and she might tell on them
that's not what miles is sulking for.
"she saw me without a shirt on... kill me."
he's so embarrassed, he want to stop existing.
to be honest, she doesn't give two fucks that he's spiderman, she's just angry they didn't tell her
especially miles.
they make up tho <33
their hangouts upgraded from abandoned train vandalism to watching the sunset from the top of a tower.
it was also where they had their first date.
[name] confessed. she did it first before miles for the last second.
he's a little pouty about it because it made him look like a chicken
earth-42 [miles morales]
he fell first
just because he fell first doesn't mean he notice her on her first day.
miles didn't officially meet her in school.
he met her at night. when he was prowler, patrolling.
he saw it with his night vision. a drunk guy was following a girl.
he already know it's not gonna end well.
miles was ready to tackle the guy from the top of the building, but what the girl did was unexpected.
she has a tazer in her hand, electrocute the drunk by his neck.
she watches its body tremble for a few seconds before she lets go.
the drunk's body just fell unconscious with a loud thud
the girl needs things to protect herself too, y'know, especially in a city full of crimes.
miles felt his heart do a small flip.
a smirk under his mask as she watch her walked away like nothing happened.
she's a tough one. feisty. and he's desperate for her number.
but he can't just randomly show up. he'll get knocked out as well, and he doesn't want that.
miles thought he'll never see that girl again, but to his general shock, they sat next to each other in one of his class.
he's pissed at himself for not noticing her much earlier.
miles is also pissed when he saw her and his roommate hanging out, inside and outside school.
he thought they were lovers 💀
he's pissed at himself when he finds out she's ganke's cousin.
"that's your cousin...?"
"yeah, she transferred here for over 7 months now."
"...fuck."
he get that they're not that close but still. he's still his roommate, and he could've told him about his cousin he didn't know about.
and didn't make him listen to broken-hearted songs on repeat.
he learned her name indirectly, which was [name] [lastname].
mister here finds himself searching for her whenever he's on patrol or when he's on a heist with his uncle.
his mask have a search thing where you type a person's name, and then he can detect if they're around the area. (inspired by his uncle's old mask)
it has a history bar, and aaron is shocked to see a girl's name over and over again.
one lucky morning is when they got partnered up, and they both started hanging out.
from strangers to best friend kind of one.
but one of them already have feelings for the other.
and he wishes to stay it that way unless she shows some signs she likes him too.
she fell harder.
every moment she feels herself falling, she's snapping herself out of it.
he's good-looking, of course he is.
he always thought he was scary, especially with the rumours of him being in a fight after his dad died.
he always has this frown in his face, too
her fear of miles made ganke take advantage of it by hiding in his dormitory knowing she will leave because miles will show up in any second
she's mad at him for it. (she didn't talk to him in 4 months)
but when they become friends, she feels a small, giddy feeling inside.
miles treated her differently.
but a good differently. anyone can tell he have a soft spot for her and no one knows why, even [name] herself.
yes, he still teased and was annoying as usual, but the way his eyes softened at the sight of her made her feel content with life itself.
she feels a bit special how miles treated her differently than the others.
let say she read a trope like theirs
she didn't look into it much. she hates that assuming something that will turn out to be wrong, she has false hope this entire time.
that's why she stopped herself whenever they're together.
she still acts like she did with everyone else, but she's a little more open to miles than the others.
she lost it when he suddenly grabbed hold of her shoulder, looking directly in her eyes with an unreadable expression.
"hey." was all he can say, and her face fires up like one of her cells commited arson
"oh, oh shit. uh, hi? what the fuck??" she suddenly blurbs out, jumbled on her own words. "miles, what??? what the hell??"
miles burst out laughing at her reaction, he haven't laughed like that in a long time.
[name] just stood there processing everything. she's flabbergasted.
was that a flirt?? or was she not paying attention for him to do crazy things like that???
after that, she didn't know what just happened or what he ate, but [name] feels like he's flirting.
and she's flirting back, with a little violent action as well.
she smacks him every time he smirks, that literally screams, "you want me so bad."
miles concluded her love language is physical. just physical. (she hits him too much that he feels numb but won't change a thing <3)
few weeks later, they're dating, miles did the shoulder touch, and he swear that will not work (it did) to see if she likes him too or not.
through out their relationship, [name] get easier to be flustered now than before since miles was born a flirt.
this is my first time doing headcanons, so idk if i do it right. snsbsksbei
but i hope you like it! comments and reblog are deeply appreciated. thank you for reading!
#across the spiderverse#miles morales#miles morales x reader#miles morales x you#spiderman#miles morales x y/n#earth 42 miles morales x reader#spider society#1610 miles x reader#miles morales 1610#miles morales fanfiction#miles morales fic#42 miles morales#earth 42 miles x reader#earth 42 miles fluff#earth 42 miles x you#1610 miles morales#earth 1610 miles morales x reader#spiderman 1610#earth 1610 miles fluff#headcanon#miles morales headcanons#miles x reader#miles x y/n#miles x you
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𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ 𐙚 ⌜ 𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐒: 3some, friends to fuckers(?), masturbação fem e masc simultânea, humping, um golpe de cinto, um uso de ‘papai’, muita dirty talk (degradação, dumbification), spit kink(?), tensão, menção a sexo sem proteção (tem que usar camisinha fml). ⁞ ♡ ̆̈ ꒰ 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑨 𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑨 ꒱ nada a declarar ─ Ꮺ !
⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀───── 𓍢ִ໋🀦
AO FIM DA NOITE, SÓ RESTA VOCÊ E ESTEBAN no apartamento de Fernando. As garrafas de bebida se somam na mesa; os pratos, os copos, e as cartas do joguinho que outro amigo próximo trouxe denunciam o quão divertida a noite de sábado foi. Você vai ganhar uma carona, por isso não tem muita pressa.
“Mas essa coisa do sexo…”, Fernando introduz a visão dele sobre o assunto em pauta agora. Recosta na cadeira, o cotovelo apoiado na beirada da mesa, “...eu acho que não consigo transar com alguém sem, tipo, sentir algo por essa pessoa. Só transar por transar, sabe?”, no que você e Esteban acenam positivamente, uhum, compreensíveis, “Posso conhecer a pessoa mais atraente do mundo, que me chame a atenção, mas… Não consigo levar ela pra cama, por exemplo. Precisaria de um café e uma conversa primeiro, sei lá, vai que a pessoa é uma maníaca”, e vocês riem.
Então, você não deve transar muito, né?, Esteban brinca, entre os sorrisos, ao que o Contigiani torce o nariz, ah, e você sim, também com bom humor.
Você derrama no seu copo o restinho de cerveja que sobrou numa das garrafas, “Entendo, Fê, entendo”, diz, “às vezes eu sou assim… outras vezes o tesão fala mais alto.”
Fernando sustenta, agora, ambos os cotovelos sobre a mesa, numa postura que sozinha já revela o interesse masculino nas suas palavras. “Mas você consegue mesmo?”
“Transar sem sentimento?”
“É, com um estranho. Assim, se um cara chega em ti numa balada, sei lá.”
Você bebe um gole da cerveja. O gosto desce mais amargo, não tão gelado quanto você gosta. “Ah, às vezes, sim. É que tem uns caras que você olha pra eles e fala, nossa, esse eu queria que me pegasse, me botasse de quatro e me desse um tapa na cara, sabe?”, e eles gargalham, principalmente Esteban, que vai ficando vermelho, vermelhinho, que nem um moranguinho com aquelas sardinhas no rosto. “E outros que você quer pedir pra botar um filho em ti, de tanto que ataca o útero da gente… Aí, não dá pra esperar um cafezinho, sabe como é.”
“Meu Deus…”, o Kukuriczka murmura, enxugando uma lagrimazinha no canto do olho, “...não sabia que você era dessas…”
“Ah, porque você é um anjo. Nunca fodeu uma buceta sem antes saber o nome da dona, né?”
“Eu pergunto o nome porque eu sou um cavalheiro.”
E você quase rebate um mas não lembro de você perguntando o meu!, porém engole a réplica, contém os lábios. Vocês dois são amigos há tempos, aquela noite foi só um descuido banhado à muita bebida alcoólica e um baseado que ganharam de um conhecido. Nem pensaram na amizade, ou em contar pra Fernando, uma vez que vocês são a tríplice inseparável do círculo social que dividem do teatro. E não é por falta de conforto, de abertura para dialogar sobre o assunto. Já se pegou tendo conversas bem mais complicadas com ambos. Talvez, só estivesse com medo de Fernando ter ciúmes…
E qual é a gente?, a pergunta ecoa justamente dele. Hm?, você resmunga, tornando os olhos para a figura do Contigiani, o qual descansa o queixo nas costas da mão, o corpo pendendo pro lado enquanto te olha. “Você deu dois exemplos de caras que fazem você querer transar com eles automaticamente”, ele explica, “Qual é a gente?”, repete a questão, “Quando olha pra nós… qual desses dois tipos nós somos?”
A curiosidade do argentino desperta um silêncio quente no ambiente. Esteban coça a nuca, claramente se fazendo de lezadinho com aquele olhar perdido. Já você desvia o seu, cabisbaixa. Morde o lábio inferior para conter um sorriso, a mente fervendo com termos diferentes para formular uma resposta. Não sente timidez, óbvio que não. Levanta os olhos de novo, dessa vez direcionando-os para Kuku. Aperta as vistas, feito analisasse. Para, boba, ele se queixa, rindo por cima da face coradinha. “Você…”, começa, o indicador aponta no ar, “...você, Senhor Kukuriczka…”, tropeça na pronúncia do nome dele, a língua enrolando depois de tanta bebida, o que o faz rir, soprado, “...você, com essa carinha de bonzinho, passa muito essa vontade de te pedir pra me foder no liso, sem nada, só pra ser a mãe dos seus filhos e nunca mais perder contato”, e o homem parece que vai derreter sobre a cadeira da mesa, ardendo por dentro como se a temperatura da noite nem fosse uma das mais confortáveis desde o começo do verão. Uau, exclama, incapaz de deter o sorriso de orelha a orelha, é essa a energia que eu tenho?, e o pior é que foi exatamente assim que vocês foderam naquele dia. A sensação dele latejando dentro de ti, metendo até gozar e assistir a porra escorrendo do seu buraquinho só porque achou bonitinho.
“E você…”, sua próxima vítima é o Contigiani, que, ao contrário do amigo, não esboça nem um pingo de acanho. Está com o foco em ti, os músculos da face relaxados, se arrisca até a dizer que o brilho nas íris escuras é pura luxúria. Te desconcerta um pouco, não dá pra negar. Faz esquecer o que queria dizer e gaguejar, engolindo a saliva para disfarçar o baque. E eu?, ele te encoraja, não vai folgar enquanto não escutar a sua versão dele. “Você”, a sua voz soa mais firme, após um suspiro. O observa. Os cabelos pretos curtinhos, a barba por fazer sombreando a pele. “Você me dá muita vontade de ser fodida igual uma puta.”
Ele nem aparenta afetado pelas suas palavras diretas, enquanto que Esteban ergue o sobrolho, cômico. “De pedir pra você só botar em mim. Sem muito carinho, sem muita conversinha. Só meter, sabe?”
“Hm”, Fernando acena com a cabeça, “mas não iria te machucar? Teria que estar bem molhadinha, não teria?”, e você retruca, na mesma hora e você acha que eu já não estaria bem molhadinha só de estar com você?, reproduzindo a mesma ênfase que o homem. Ele ri, soprado. “Claro”, diz, “E o que mais? Se olhar pra mim te faz querer ser fodida feito uma puta, não é possível que vai querer só que eu bote com força.”
Esteban cruza os braços, levando o olhar para ti na espera da sua resposta. Se o perguntar, não vai saber explicar o que essa conversa está causando em seus sentimentos. Separa mais as pernas, luta contra a própria vontade de descer uma das mãos até a braguilha do jeans.
“É, eu ia querer mais”, você afirma. Tipo?, Fernando quer saber. “Tipo…”, os seus olhos viajam da face do argentino para a mão dele espalmada sobre a coxa, “...tipo levar uns tapinhas seus. A sua mão é grande, ia doer mas ia ser tão bom…”
Minha mão é grande?, ele ecoa, numa falsa dúvida. Está fazendo de propósito, canalha, quando estica a palma da mão no ar, por cima da mesa, pra cobrir a sua bochecha e comparar os tamanhos. Faz que sim, uma expressão de coerência com o seu desejo sórdido, “é, é bem grande mesmo”, admite em voz alta. Não coloca intensidade, faz como se ensaiasse, batendo de levinho umas duas vezes sobre o local, “acho que ia doer, é, mas você parece que gosta da dor, né? Quer foder com força, levar tapa na cara… É só vontade momentânea de ser maltratada, ou é você que é uma putinha mesmo?”
Você sorri, de canto. “Só fodendo comigo pra descobrir”, e, pra sua surpresa, o Contigiani se vira para o outro, ela é mesmo uma putinha na cama?
Esteban quase se engasga com a saliva, tão pego desprevenido que até se apruma melhor na cadeira, escondendo as mãos por baixo da mesa. Entreabre os lábios, mas só sai ar, nenhuma frase ao certo reverbera. “Eu, ahm… É…”
“Não, não tô bravo, não”, Fernando tranquiliza, a mirada quente vai retornando para ti, “só acho que, se você olha pra mim e tem vontade disso tudo, nena, podia ter me chamado pra um ménage…”
Esteban troca um olhar contigo, boquiaberto ainda.
Você se levanta, dá a volta na mesa, encarando Fernando por cima. Se aproximando, o barulho do salto da sua sandália estalando no piso da sala conjugada. Uma mão apoia na beirada da mesa; a outra, na ponta do encosto da cadeira, se inclina para sussurrar, com charme, “e se você estivesse lá”, instiga, “se tivesse fodido comigo e com o Esteban… O que garante que você realmente ia atender às minhas fantasias?”. O argentino dá de ombros, resoluto embora com a aproximação repentina, só fodendo comigo pra descobrir, te imita.
Um sorriso se estende no seu rosto, devagarinho. Como colegas, você sempre ouviu uma conversa ou outra sobre a vida sexual do seu amigo. E não minta, já chegou a invejar algumas das meninas com as quais ele dormiu, com as quais te contava o que fazia com elas. “E o Esteban?”, a voz de veludo do Contigiani introduz o questionamento, “Ele é como você idealizou?”
Os seus olhos captam a figura do Kukuriczka. Mais um motivo para sorrir. “O Esteban…”, vai caminhando na direção do argentino. Esteban até verga a cabeça pra trás para não quebrar o contato visual, segurando no seu braço quando você se posiciona atrás dele, o envolve. A sua bochecha colando na bochecha masculina, “conta pra ele, Kuku”, pede num sopro, “conta pra ele como foi.”
Esteban tem que evitá-los por uns segundos, só pra recuperar a confiança que tem lá no fundinho — a mesma confiança descarada que usou pra te comer daquela vez, te guiando pra cama feito um vadio inconsequente. Engole o sorriso bobo, mirando Fernando sentado à diagonal. “Acho que atendi aos requisitos dela, sim”, alega, “Fodi no pelo, enchi de porra”, está olhando pra ti, com um sorriso doce, enquanto a sua mão desliza pelo torso dele para apertar o pau por cima dos jeans, “e foi você mesma que pediu, não foi, cariño?”
Você recebe um beijinho na bochecha, o faz soltar o ar dos pulmões, relaxado sob o seu carinho, mesmo que sobre o tecido pesado da calça. “Ouviu, Fernando?”, provoca, encarando o outro, sem vergonha nenhuma de praticamente masturbar Esteban na frente do amigo, “e ele me encheu tanto, mas tanto”, até revira os olhinhos ao reforçar, “que eu acho que ainda deve ter muito dentro de mim”. E eu iria te dar mais e mais, todos os meus filhinhos, pra gente nunca mais perder contato, princesa, Esteban brinca com a sua fala, maroto, mas com certo tom de espontaneidade.
Fernando exibe um sorrisinho pequeno, aquele olhar carregado prendendo você e o Kukuriczka no campo de visão. “E você, Fê?”, o seu caminhar calculado te deixa no espaço entre a cadeira de um e do outro. Encosta a lombar na mesa, “O que faria se estivesse lá?”, pergunta, num tom doce, feito não quisesse provocar, “Tô curiosa. Não seja tão malvado, me diz se iria atender às minhas fantasias, vai”, com o pé, sobe pelo tornozelo dele até pairar o salto no joelho desnudo. “Hm?”
Ele olha pro seu pezinho adornado pela sandália dourada, mas não faz nada sobre isso, opta por trazer o foco de volta para o seu rosto. Você percebe a movimentação das mãos alheias; o desabotoar do botão único da bermuda, o fecho sendo desfeito. “Eu?”, a voz masculina soa rouquinha. A mão buscando pela ereção por baixo das peças para massagear a si próprio ali mesmo. “Eu poderia ser tudo o que você quer… Mas qual é a graça nisso, não é mesmo?”, molha a ponta dos dedos na língua, para umedecer lá embaixo, na cabecinha inchada, “Você merece ouvir um não pra deixar de ser tão mandona. Só precisa de alguém pra te comer bem e logo abaixa a bola.”
Você arqueia a sobrancelha, admirada com a ousadinha. “Ah, é?”, incita de volta. Se inclina na direção dele, os lábios formando um biquinho para que o filete de saliva possa escorrer e cair por cima da ereção. Levanta os olhos, “Ser mal comigo não iria acabar com a minha marra, Fê, só me deixar com mais tesão.”
“Ah, eu sei”, ele circula a cabecinha com o punho cerrado, misturando a sua saliva com o pré-gozo, espelhando pelo comprimento rígido, “É tão fácil foder uma putinha que nem você porque qualquer coisa é suficiente pra molhar essa buceta.”
Você finge desgosto, teatral, os lábios crispando e tudo. Agarra a barra do vestido soltinho, torce de qualquer forma na cintura, “toca aqui”, estimulando, “vê se eu fiquei muito molhadinha assim que nem cê diz”, e Fernando não hesita antes de levar a mão para entre as suas pernas, o indicador mergulhando nas suas dobrinhas, por cima do tecido tão ensopadinho que chega a umedecer a pele dele também. Daqui a pouco tá pingando perna abaixo, não deixa de te alfinetar.
“É que toda essa conversa tá me deixando com vontade…”, você se justifica, numa entonação manhosa que estica a pronúncia do ‘toda’. Se vira, o meio das pernas encaixando na quina da mesa e a bunda empinando sugestivamente, aí o vestido embola fazendo a barra parecer mais curta que o normal. Se esfrega, encontrando prazer na pressão que a ponta da madeira causa. Os olhos de ambos vão parar ali, enfeitiçados. O som metálico do cinto de Esteban sendo desafivelado te causa um sorrisinho, ainda mais quando ele usa a tira pra surrar as suas nádegas.
Seu corpo retesa, a expressão de dorzinha — esses olhinhos cerrados, o cenho franzido e os lábios comprimidos — logo é substituída pelo riso sem-vergonha, a língua empurrando os dentes. “Aposto que tá tão melada que levaria nós dois no mesmo buraquinho…”, Esteban acusa, despudorado.
“Uh, pode levar tudo isso, nena?”, Fernando quer saber, com clara gozação. Se levanta, fica mais pertinho de ti, a ponto do pau resvalar na sua nádega, molhando a pele por onde roça. “Pode, não pode?”, os olhos estão vidrados nos seus, “cê paga de inteligente mas a sua cabecinha de putinha burra só consegue pensar em pica, eu sei. É por isso que dá pra qualquer um”, toca no canto do seu rosto, porém desce com a mão por trás da sua orelha até pegar na sua nuca, dominante, “é por isso que vai levar dois paus em qualquer buraquinho seu nem que pra isso tenha que ficar toda larguinha depois, com saudade de pica.”
Esteban alisa a tira na sua nádega, parece que quer muito desferir outro golpe, só que se contenta primeiro em apreciar a visão da sua calcinha com detalhezinhos de renda enfiada entre as bandas, seduzido. “Sabe…”, murmura, mordendo os lábios, “...eu meio que tô com receio da gente meter nela”, passa a mão, mordisca a carne, a língua molhando por onde fez arder tão cruelmente há pouquinho, “tenho certeza que nunca mais vai achar um só o suficiente. Se prepara pra receber mensagem, fotinhas, ligação de madrugada, com aquela vozinha de gatinha no cio pedindo pra gente passar na casa dela e dar um trato pra ela dormir quietinha.”
“É, acho que cê tá certo”, Fernando concorda. O olhar recai na sua boca, vadio, “Olha só pra ela”, fala, como se você nem pudesse ouvir, como se nem estivesse murmurando as palavras contra o seu rosto, “tem ou não tem a cara de que, se eu colocar pra sentar no meu colo, é capaz de me chamar de ‘papai’ e gozar na primeira sentadinha.”
Você ri, viperina, não vai deixar passar batido, “Fê, se você me colocar pra sentar no seu colo, é você que vai estar gemendo e gozando na minha primeira sentada.”
#imninahchan#lsdln cast#lsdln#esteban kukuriczka fic#esteban kukuriczka fanfic#esteban kukuriczka smut#esteban kukuriczka#fernando contigiani#fernando contigiani smut#a sociedade da neve#la sociedad de la nieve#the society of the snow
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solo paso por aquí para hacerte un request pero tambien aprovecho de mencionar que AMO tus vibes y tu escritura y me encantaría leer más de esteban si lo escribes tú. Lo que se te ocurra, ojalá y una declaración o algo de ese tipo.
⊹ ┊CONFESSIONS ꒱ .ﾟ
↷ ˊ- pairing: esteban kukuriczka x f!reader.
warnings: ninguno, fluff, slight angst, smoking.
summary: esteban es tu amigo de muchos años y se da cuenta lo que realmente siente por ti.
• dani’s typing… ! no hay mucho que decir, solo que disfruteeen.
esteban nunca supo cuando fue que te empezó a ver con ojos diferentes, ya no era la mirada que le dabas a una amiga, era la mirada con la que veías a la chica que te gustaba.
tampoco supo cuando empezó a sentir esas cosquillas en su estómago cada vez que lo abrazabas y tú aroma a frutos secos se mezclaba con el aire o cuando tus brazos rodeaban su cuello para abrazarlo.
ahora todas las venas de su cuello se marcaban a la hora de salir y ver que algún chico que no era el se acercaba a ti, ofreciéndote un trago que rechazabas con amabilidad o contándote algún chiste que hacía relucir tus pequeñas carcajadas.
pero la gota que a la final derramó el vaso fue la noche donde saliste con sus amigos del cast, al ver como su nuevo amigo te empezaba a hacer ojitos y viceversa, no pudo aguantar mucho y sin saberlo estaba tomando distancia contigo.
las estrellas ya adornaban el cielo y la fría brisa golpeaba en ambos rostros, los dos estaban en un banco fumándose cada uno un cigarrillo dejando ver una nube gris que salía de sus bocas.
“¿qué onda, kuku?” parecía no haber entendido tu pregunta por lo cual dió otra calada al cigarrillo y subió sus hombros asintiendo.
“bien” seco y sin ninguna dulzura en su voz.
era raro sentirlo tan distante de ti, siempre se la pasaban riendo o hablando de cualquier cosa pero nunca se sintió tan vacío como en ese momento.
“dale che, estás raro desde hace dos semanas” botaste lo que quedaba del cigarro pisándolo cuando cayó al suelo.
esteban no dijo nada, como si estuviese pensando lo que en realidad iba a decir.
“¿qué te traes con fran?” otra vez ese tono que te empezaba a molestar más si estaba empleándolo contigo.
“¿uh? ¿de que hablas vos?” no estabas entendiendo a donde iba con eso así que decidiste buscar una mejor postura en el banco donde estaban sentados.
“dale, no te hagas la boluda” rodó sus ojos marrones . “el otro día se andaban haciendo ojitos, se notaba a kilómetros” bufó.
“no hay nada kuku a penas nos conocemos” restaste importancia porque no era mentira.
ese día conociste a sus nuevos compañeros de la película en la que iba a trabajar esteban y todos eran buena onda por lo que te llevaste súper bien con ellos, pero con el que más congeniaste fue con fran ya que tenían gustos similares.
“ya deja de mentir” sus orejas estaban calientes, la razón era simple él creía que le estabas mintiendo.
“¿qué? ¿por qué mentiría según vos?” alzaste la voz un poco más de lo que te hubiese gustado. “a ver, los dos nos llevamos bien y eso es todo” tu tono se había tornado seco.
“che, lo mejor es que me vaya” sacudió sus pantalones mientras se ponía de pie sin dirigirte la mirada.
“¿qué? esteban deja de comportarte como un inmaduro y dime en realidad que te pasa” no querías llegar a discutir porque muy poco lo había hecho y por cosas muy tontas.
“estoy cansado, hablamos” sus pies lo llevaron a dirección contraria alejándose cada vez más de ti, dejándote con la palabra en la boca.
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habían sido semanas infernales para esteban y para ti, no sabían que estaba pasando en la vida del otro desde que él decidió retirarse, dejándote sola en la oscuridad de la noche.
muchas veces pensabas en enviarle un mensaje pero después se jodía todo al recordar que no fuiste tú la que se comportó mal de los dos.
sabías que le iba a tomar tiempo así que le diste su espacio cosa que no sabías pero que él en realidad agradecía, no sabía cómo respondería las preguntas que le hicieras.
seguramente soltaba todo de una y la idea tampoco era quedarse sin tu amistad que era lo que más apreciaba. pero al mismo tiempo estaba consiente que quería algo más que una amistad contigo, necesitaba sacárselo de encima.
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era de noche, la televisión de tu pequeño apartamento alumbraba tu cara mientras te refugiabas en tus mantas.
de la nada un sonido seco en la puerta te hizo sobresaltar, no tenías ni idea de quién podría ser más a estas horas de la noche con el frío que hacía.
con pies descalzos decidiste encaminarte y abrir la puerta con cuidado y ciertamente no esperabas ver a la esbelta figura de tu amigo con todo el cabello alborotado y ojos tristones.
“¿esteban?” dijiste sorprendida, escuchaste un “si” y lo dejaste pasar enseguida.
no ibas a negar que se veía muy guapo con el buzo que traía y sus jeans rotos en las rodillas, aún así tu mente fue a parar en otra cosa. te preguntabas que hacía tu amigo en el medio de la sala mientras te miraba con sus ojos bambi.
“sentate por favor ¿querés algo de tomar?” el simplemente asintió con la garganta seca, hasta la sentía raspar.
enseguida le ofreciste un vaso con agua helada cosa que lo alivió para tomársela de un solo sentón, de ahí nadie hablo por unos cinco minutos esperando que alguno rompiera el incómodo silencio.
“disculpame, nena” su voz sonaba un poco ronca y cansada. tu solo lo miraste esperando que continuara, cosa que lo hizo ponerse nervioso. “no quería tratarte así, sabes que sos una de las cosas mas importantes que tengo en mi vida” sus grandes ojos miraban a los tuyos con ahora un brillo peculiar que no habías visto.
“no me gustó como me hablaste” señalaste. “además solo quería saber lo que te pasaba a vos” sonaste un poco herida.
“lo sé, muñeca” su mano se estiró colocando un mechón de tu cabello detrás de tu oreja. “lo siento, sé que vos te preocupaste por mi” dejó su mano arriba acariciando el lóbulo de la misma.
“entonces ¿me vas a decir que te tenía tan tenso?” disfrutaste de sus suaves caricias.
tragó duro haciendo mover su manzana de adán y mordió su labio inferior, buscando las palabras correctas que aunque había repasado un millón de veces antes de tocar la puerta, toda su mente estaba en blanco.
“yo…” lo mirabas a la expectativa pero sin presionarlo. “me gustas, muñeca” así corto y simple lo dijo, sintiendo un peso menos de encima pero nervioso por tu respuesta. “desde hace mucho que me estoy dando cuenta que en realidad me gustas y no me sentía con ganas de decírtelo hasta ahora por miedo a estropear lo bonito que tenemos” su voz ahora baja decía.
ahora la que tenía la garganta seca eras tú, no esperabas que te dijera eso pero no era impedimento para que el corazón te bombardeara de forma frenética, creías que se te iba a salir del pecho.
tus manos sudando en tu regazo y tus mejillas encendidas con un color rosado característico del sonrojo.
“kuku… yo” aclaraste tu garganta para soltar una risa nerviosa que lo hizo relajar los hombros un poco, ya le dolía el cuerpo de tan tenso que estaba.
“también me gustas” susurraste sin llegar a ver esos ojos marrones que te gustaban y te parecían la octava maravilla del mundo.
un chillido retumbó en el apartamento cuando esteban jaló con sus largos brazos tu cintura haciéndote sentar en su regazo mientras sus labios hacían contacto con tus cachetes repetidamente.
reíste sintiendo el pecho lleno de muchas mariposas, tú cuerpo parecía flotar como si estuvieses en un sueño, todo parecía irreal.
“preciosa, hermosa, divina” repetía esas mismas palabras sin parar con los besos.
su mirada ya no estaba tristona y podías observar su sonrisa tan linda que hacía sus ojos achicarse un poco, tus manos separaron su rostro del tuyo acariciando su pequeña barba creciente y conectaste su boca con la tuya. se sentía tan bien tener ese contacto con esteban y habías esperado mucho para que pasara.
“creí que me ibas a rechazar” rió cuando se separó de tu boca.
“no, nene. si supieses que andaba loca por vos desde antes, también tenía miedo de dañar la amistad” negaste, dejando un pico en sus labios.
“sos hermosa, te amo” escondió su rostro aspirando el dulce aroma de frutos rojos característico de ti y sonrío.
había esperado de todo menos lo que estaba pasando, pero ahora que te tiene en sus brazos no te iba a dejar ir y te iba a demostrar lo mucho que era merecedor de tu amor.
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by ﹫ VOGLATTE ╱ bueno amo escribir fluff del kuku y bueno aquí otro fic del nene .ᐟ
#la sociedad de la nieve#society of the snow#esteban kukuriczka x reader#esteban kukuriczka#enzo vogrincic#esteban kukuriczka fanfic#lsdln#voglatte post .ᐟ#lsdln fic
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Amor y Odio | Enzo Vogrincic
Para: los que extrañan a su ex!
~
Ya llevabas más de tres años saliendo con Enzo cuando todo cambió. Durante ese tiempo, le habías prometido tu apoyo incondicional, incluso frente a la perspectiva de una relación a distancia, que a ti no te importaba en absoluto. Sin embargo, para Enzo las cosas eran distintas.
Una noche, en su departamento en Montevideo, tú y Enzo estaban inmersos en una discusión. Él estaba lidiando psicológicamente con las complejidades de su papel como Numa Turcatti, a pesar de estar recibiendo terapia y compartir sus preocupaciones con colegas y hasta con Bayona. Pero en esa noche en particular, Enzo se quebró emocionalmente, llorando sin control. Tú, instintivamente, le abrazaste, asegurándole que todo estaría bien, que una vez que terminara con el trabajo, las cosas volverían a la normalidad y mejoraría gracias a las lecciones de vida que había aprendido.
Sin embargo, Enzo, con seriedad, te interrumpió diciendo: "(tu nombre), sabes cuánto te quiero, pero no puedo seguir contigo sintiéndome así. No quiero que sufras a mi lado. Por favor, dejemos esto". Mientras le acomodabas el cabello para ver su rostro, respondiste con calma: "No me importa, quiero apoyarte, te necesito tanto como tú a mí". Pero Enzo te miró fijamente y con voz firme dijo: "¡No! ¡No, (tu nombre)! Por favor, escúchame. Necesitamos separarnos por un tiempo. Necesito que lo entiendas".
Te encontrabas en una encrucijada emocional, sin saber exactamente qué pensar. El amor que sentías por Enzo era tan profundo que alejarte de él por completo parecía un acto prohibido. No obstante, también querías comprender su perspectiva y darle el espacio que parecía necesitar.
Con un gesto de cariño, acariciaste su rostro y le diste un beso en la frente. "Si eso es lo que quieres, te respeto. Y sabes que siempre estaré aquí para vos, cualquier cosa que necesites", expresaste con sinceridad. Enzo tomó tu mano, acariciándola, y te susurró un agradecimiento. "Gracias por entender", dijo con voz suave.
Con un nudo en la garganta, te levantaste y te retiraste. La puerta se cerró detrás de ti, dejando en el aire la incertidumbre de lo que vendría a continuación.
—
Un año y medio transcurrió desde aquel momento, y tú y Enzo eran oficialmente exnovios. Parecía que él estaba prosperando, inmerso en una nueva fama que lo llevaba a escenarios de todo el mundo: Venecia, Madrid, Sevilla, Buenos Aires, Ciudad de México, Nueva York y más. Era como si hubiera olvidado por completo sus raíces.
Te encontrabas observando su vida a través de las redes sociales, pero cada publicación te causaba una mezcla de emociones. Por un lado, sentías resentimiento al verlo disfrutar de su éxito sin aparentes remordimientos. Por otro, reconocías que, a pesar del odio que intentabas albergar, en el fondo seguías amándolo.
Finalmente, decidiste bloquearlo en todas las plataformas y cortar cualquier vínculo digital con él. Era la única manera de protegerte emocionalmente, aunque en lo más profundo de ti, sabías que el amor que sentías aún persistía, enredado con sentimientos contradictorios de amor y odio.
Con la carga de las obligaciones laborales, tu jefe te envía a Madrid para una conferencia de trabajo que durará dos semanas. Aunque aceptas por deber profesional, también reconoces la oportunidad de escapar de las calles de Montevideo, las cuales están impregnadas de recuerdos compartidos con Enzo.
La necesidad de un espacio fresco para reflexionar y alejarte de los lugares que te vinculan con el pasado se convierte en una motivación adicional. Madrid, con su energía diferente y nuevas experiencias, te ofrece un respiro necesario para despejar la mente y encontrar un nuevo equilibrio. Mientras te sumerges en las responsabilidades laborales, también te das cuenta de que esta oportunidad puede ser un catalizador para tu propia renovación personal.
Al llegar a tu nuevo apartamento en Madrid para las dos semanas, decides explorar las luminosas calles y te diriges a una cafetería. Mientras te sientas al aire libre, ordenas un café y un croissant, disfrutando de la tranquilidad del paisaje y la hermosa arquitectura madrileña.
Al terminar tu café, te levantas para entrar a la cafetería y devolver la taza vacía. Sin embargo, te chocas fuertemente con un hombre, y sientes la sangre brotar inesperadamente de tu nariz. Sin verlo claramente, reaccionas impulsivamente gritándole: "¡GORDO BANANA DE MIERDA, CANTO DE QUESO!".
Cuando finalmente lo miras fijamente, te quedas en shock al darte cuenta de que la persona con la que te acabas de chocar es nada menos que tu exnovio, Enzo Vogrincic. El encuentro inesperado lleva consigo una mezcla de sorpresa, incomodidad y, quizás, la oportunidad de abordar asuntos pendientes.
EL FINAL DE UN NUEVO COMIENZO.
#enzo vogrincic#society of the snow#la sociedad de la nieve#enzo vogrincic fic#enzo vogrincic x reader#uruguay#latina#spanish#my writing#fanfic#enzo x reader#argentina#me enamoré de un uruguayo#enzo vogrincic x you
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