Hello and welcome! My name is Andrea and this is my writing blog. Here you will find mostly fanfiction, but I am working hard to fill it with original works as well. Have a look around, and feel free to leave feedback or questions in my askbox!!! Reader(s) Online Enjoy your stay and happy reading Looking for The Pianist on the Subway? Icon by user kelpls
Title: In Case of Emergency
Rating: T
Warnings: None (except for some very bad puns)
AO3 Mirror
A couple people requested I post my fireman Damen AU here as well as AO3, so here it is! Enjoy it and all its terrible glory. While you’re at it, enjoy my pal Jade’s art for it as well.
As far as Damen could tell, there hadn’t been an actual fire.
Even if there had been, chances were high that it had been a small incident in one of the back rooms– no reason really for him to be here. There was no smell of burning, no smoke, no general aura of panic that normally followed even the most harmless of sparks. But there had been an alarm triggered, and as the saying goes: duty calls.
In this case, duty calls again would’ve been more appropriate, Damen considered as he strode through the library entryway. This would be the third time in two months a truck had been sent here on a false alarm. The department was starting to get annoyed.
Damen approached the front desk, the sound of his boots echoing loudly through the silence of the building. He had left his jacket with the truck, and was wishing he had done the same with his turnout pants– or wishing, at least, that the A/C was working just a little harder. If the man working the counter noticed the large, geared up man walking towards him, he made no sign of it and continued his computer work diligently.
This is, until Damen spoke. “Doesn’t look like there’s much of a fire here,” he said, resting his forearms casually against the high desk.
This, of course, was not uncommon; being the Crown Prince meant that there would always be someone chancing a look. But a single look was all it ever amounted to. One could steal a glance at the Future King, but one also knew better than to stare.
And yet, even through all the party and celebration around him, Damen could feel that someone was staring. Damen, in conversation with one of the many lords from the north, allowed himself a moment of distraction. He turned his head quickly, and easily met the blue eyes that had been so focused on him. A smile found its way onto the Prince’s face and he returned to his conversation, only to politely excuse himself.
As Damen approached, Laurent made no attempts to hide his gaze– eyes locked on him as the space between them lessened.
When finally they were close enough, Laurent lifted a hand, a dangerous twinkle in his eye.
Damen laughed lightly. He took Laurent’s long fingers against his palm, light as he could, and brought the hand gently to his lips. Smiling wider against Laurent’s skin, he took great amusement in watching the other fight to keep his composure.
Title: Good Morning
Pairing: Damen/Laurent
Rating: T
AO3 Mirror
A pointless fluff drabble I wanted to scribble out quick today. Enjoy!
Laurent woke first, as was often the case.
The morning was still new, and sunlight shone into the room through the small space between the curtains, giving the morning a warm and lazy aura. Laurent stretched out slowly, sleepily. He was comfortable; Damen’s chest was pressed against his back, one arm thrown easily over Laurent’s own body.
Laurent draped a hand over top of Damen’s, lacing their fingers gently. He marvelled at the contrast of their skin, and brought Damen’s knuckles to his lips for a few gentle kisses.
The hand in his own moved, fingers flexing to grab at Laurent’s. Damen stirred behind him, and he felt a kiss pressed against the back of his head.
“Good morning,” Laurent said, turning his head over his shoulder as best as he could.
Union Not Graced by God // Chapter 1
Damen/Laurent
Auguste is alive!
Mentions of rape
AO3 Mirror
Everything about the situation had been rushed.
Letters and messengers passed back and forth between the two countries for as little as three months, preparations for the ceremony took less than a third of that time, and the arrival of the foreign prince had carried with it so many tasks that Damen hadn’t managed to properly exchange words with him.
The day of the ceremony had been just as much of a whirlwind. Damen had been woken early and taken to the baths. It was there that he really was able to meet his partner eye-to-eye for the first time.
They were brought in from opposite doors, but Damen caught Laurent’s gaze from across the hazy room. Even with the distance between them, Damen could tell that Laurent practically bled challenge and arrogance. Even as they were disrobed, confidence dripped like sweat from his pale skin. And even as they stepped into the hot bath, he never released the tight tension from his bones. He was like a snake slipping into the water; as beautiful as he was intimidating.
My debut Captive Prince fanfic! Also my first fanfic since 2013. And it’s just straight fluff. I’m very excited to be posting this, and I hope you enjoy!
It had been one of the warmest days thusfar that season. The harsh heat of the Akielon sun beat down without forgiveness on her patrons below, slowing all that was touched by her light.
The only means of escape, it had seemed, was a retreat to the Gulf of Atros, where a small section of beach had been ordered clear for all but the King, and the Prince of Vere. They were hidden by the rocky cliffs on either side of the tiny stretch of sand– away from the politics, and away from the world. Damen contentedly lay stretched out beneath the sun’s rays, enjoying– for the moment– the heat that soaked into his back, easing any ache from his bones. Laurent sat nearby in the shade of a makeshift canopy, relaxing with a book in his hands.
I’m glad I post things at 3 am when no one is online to read them
more superheroes! I realize this scene is taken super out of context, so I apologize for that
this dialogue flowed better in my head last night I swear
Ilia was silent as she sat next to Christian.
It was nighttime and the wind blew gently over them in a way that was almost comforting. They sat on the edge of the rooftop, letting their legs dangle in the open air above the city and watching as lights flickered in the distance.
The two sat in silence for several moments-- a silence Ilia couldn't label as comfortable or otherwise. Christian hadn't acknowledged her presence, but just being near each other was enough for the short length of time Ilia allowed the silence to persist.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice quiet enough to surprise even herself.
Christian inhaled heavliy at the question; he had obviously been hoping that they wouldn't be speaking. "Pissed," he replied. His voice was calm as ever, betraying the meaning behind his response. "Confused.... Feeling like I should've seen this coming." He sighed, running a hand through his hair with frustration.
"You can't blame yourself for not catching on, Christian."
He sighed. "I know. I'm blaming him."
Ilia selected her next words with care. "Can you even really do that?"
Christian turned to face her finally, brows furrowed and his lips turned down in an angry frown. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I mean..." she hesitated, trying to gather her thoughts before she said something they'd both regret later. "I mean Adrien was talking about his family-- Pride was threatening to destroy them if Adrien didn't follow orders...." Ilia glanced away for a breath, staring at the corner of the building before flicking her gaze back to meet the other's. "He'd lose them all. He'd be alone.
"...you of all people know what that's like."
She expected him to be angry, expected him to start throwing curses and storm off to go sulk alone; those were heavy words.
But instead, she just felt the wind grow cold, and he turned to face forward once more. "He's here to trick us," his voice was faint now as he spoke. "It could've just been another lie."
Ilia placed a hand on his, squeezing it comfortably. She tried to meet his gaze again, but found that he was drifting off into his thoughts, his eyes unfocused on this world. "Do you think that it was?"
"Elysia thinks so."
"I'm asking what you think."
She lost Christian then-- she could almost see him slip off into the deepest parts of his thoughts as he mulled over her question. His eyes focused on nothing, but flicked back and forth as he remembered, as he struggled to piece together his own opinion. Minutes passed, and Ilia was sure she knew his answer long before he vocalized it--
"I don't know."
Christian pulled away from Ilia, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands. "I'm so confused." She could hear his voice breaking from behind his fingers. And with it, Ilia could feel her heart breaking; he was usually so strong, so solid, and sturdy. To see her friend like this made Ilia feel all the more lost.
She wrapped her arms around him gently and pulled him close. Christian continued to hide his face, burying it against her shoulder as he fought to regain his composure. His breaths came frequent and heavy, and Ilia could feel the wind mimicking the harshness of it-- picking up its own pace.
"I didn't..." Christian choked on his own words. "I don't want to lose him, too." He shook his head, his body tensing as he clutched desperately at the back of Ilia's shirt. Before long he was sobbing. He tried to speak, his words coming out in an incomprehensible mix of English and Spanish; though they were too heavy with his weeping to be understood anyhow.
Anyone remember my superheroes? No? Well I’ve been writing about them a lot recently! And today before work quick, I wrote a short, 500 word ATLA AU with some of the characters.
It was surprisingly good practice for action sequences! Hopefully you’ll see more of these characters in their own universe soon.
A/N: Mango is just a placeholder name.
They were surrounded.
Fire and earthbenders stood ready around them. Christian and Adrien were back-to-back in the center, everyone waiting for the other to make the first move.
"Think we can get out of this one?" Adrien asked quietly, tilting his head back slightly towards Christian.
Christian didn't move, his eyes locked with General Mango's. "Well," he said, "we have a master earthbender and the avatar. Shouldn't be too hard, right?"
"Two masters against 50 doesn't exactly sound simple, Christian."
"I doubt all these soldiers are actually masters--"
As soon as the words left Christian's mouth, he saw a change in Mango's stance: the man flicked his wrist back, shifting his weight onto his forefoot. But before the flames even had a chance to ignite, Christian pushed his arms up, bringing up a solid wall between the two of them.
Behind him, Christian could feel Adrien moving, their bodies no longer pressed together. The ground rumbled and moved, but the vibrations moved away from him. He could hear the soldiers yelling over the earthquake.
The rock before him crumbled suddenly, fire headed straight for him. Quickly, Christian uncapped the water skin on his hip, using the liquid inside to kill the flames. In the same movement, he flicked the stream at Mango, latching the water onto his hand. Christian whipped his own hand down fast, the water waved and pulled Mango's arm towards the ground. The general was set off-balance for a moment, and Christian used the time to address the soldiers rushing in on his left. Thrusting his free hand towards them, he sent a strong wind in their direction. The four men flew back, knocking several other soldiers to the ground as they did so.
The water 'round Christian's wrist grew hot, the temperature rising too rapidly for him to combat it. With a cry, he let the liquid fall to the ground, rubbing at the sensitive skin while glaring at the General.
As usual, Mango showed little expression, even as he charged.
Christian leapt into the air-- his airbending thrusting him high above the fight. Fire blasts and boulders followed him into the sky. However, he evaded each attack with ease, flitting around with the aid of a few gusts of wind.
While still tens of feet above the ground, Christian righted himself. Much like a dancer, he spun with his arms extended. As he pulled his hands towards his chest, he built up tremendous momentum as he rapidly descended back to the earth.
The rock depressed easily beneath his feet as he impacted, the drilling disrupting the ground around his body. Cracks erupted violently around Christian and spread out in every direction. The earth shifted, soldiers thrown to the ground or swallowed by wide chasms that formed.
A (very) short and unfinished exercise featuring two of my newest characters. This scene actually isn’t supposed to take place until WAY LATE in their story line, but it’s been stuck in my head the past couple of days. Some things won’t make too much sense out of context, but feel free to ask me questions if you’d like!
Hopefully you’ll be seeing more of them in happier situations soon!
(Note: not sure if anyone is bothered by this but #hospital cw)
-----
Sleep tried to catch at Alex's eyelids. He could feel them drooping dangerously through he fought against it. The edge of the hospital bed felt surprisingly comfortable now that his he’d had been resting there for the better part of the night. In a half-assed attempt at remaining awake, the red-head glanced up to the face of the bed's occupant. Ryker appeared to be sleeping in peace, though his features lay littered with black bruises and freshly stitched cuts, his breath coming easily with the assistance of several tubes.
Still, the sight made Alex's stomach churn.
Alex sat up in his chair quickly, drowsiness suddenly replaced with nausea. With hands pressed tightly to his mouth, the Irishman glanced around in a panic. Ryker's nurse had left him a plastic bin-- one she had lovingly called his "hurl bucket"-- but where had he last put it?
By the time he spotted the yellow bin-- on the floor, kicked nearly beneath the bed-- the wave of sickness had passed, and Alex was left panting in his chair. The container sat in his lap regardless, clutched tightly in his shaking hands. Just in case.
Finally, the bin was was placed back on the floor, though it was returned with a slight hesitation.
With a sigh, the man returned his head back to the bed's edge. This time, he allowed his eyes to close-- not out of exhaustion, but instead in a vain attempt to separate himself from the hospital room and all its sounds. Blindly, his hand searches for Ryker's, palm moving across the mattress for that familiar feeling, for that stable source of comfort.
But he never finds it. And it takes far too long for the reality of the situation to once again weigh down upon him.
A flash fiction experiment in writing tension. Leave some feedback if you read, please! I’d appreciate it a whole lot!! (May or may not do more with these characters later! I think I really like them)
—-
Simon tossed and turned around in his cot, trying hard to find a comfortable spot.
There isn't much rhyme or reason for it but I wanted to get writing again, and I wanted to get a little better feel for my protag! Consider this a mini character study as well as an experiment in low-key action scenes
-----
Third street was in absolute chaos.
The police had done their best to close off the surrounding areas, and firemen were actively working to extinguish the two burning buildings near the intersection at Lake Avenue. Civilians rushed out of the Huntington Bank across the street, screaming in panic as they tried to flee from the scene.
An explosion shook the six-story building moments later-- the windows shattering all at once. Glass rained down in glittering shards and littered the street and cars below. At the same time, a young man was hurtled out of the fifth story; knocked back by the blast and falling towards the ground at an alarming rate. Below him, a woman screamed.
The man never hit the pavement. Moving quickly, he righted himself in the air- positioning himself as though he were about to take a step forward- and propelled himself back up high. He stopped at the fifth story, waiting patiently. He stood as though the air were solid beneath his feet-- his weight supported easily by the winds.
His silver and black suit shone in the sun, the metallic material hugging his body tightly, but not dramatically so. His features were distinctly Latino-- wavy, dark hair and tanned skin, his brown eyes hidden by his black aviator goggles.
Ignoring the turmoil around him, the man began walking towards the building. His arms were up and close to his chest, ready to defend himself against a sudden attack if one were to come.
It did.
A figure erupted from a window, wild and engulfed in flames. It launched himself at the man, reaching for him with red hot hands. Hurriedly, the man threw his arms up, calling a strong gust from below to hurdle the figure high into the air. The wind was strong enough to extinguish the flames, revealing a woman dressed in all black beneath the fire.
She smiled cruelly down at the man as she fell back towards earth, the corners of her lips reaching higher when her fall was broken by a cushioned wind-- now face-to-face with her enemy.
"So it is you," she mused, taking the moment to pull down on her mask, adjusting it around her yellow-green eyes. "I guess some rumors are true, then-- Christian Ortiz has finally returned to hero work." She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, Pride, I thought four years was long enough," Christian replied, his lips hinting at a smirk.
"Quite so. I must say I missed beating you around." She leaned forward and pinched his cheek, her fingers hot to the touch. Christian grimaced and pulled away. Pride just laughed. "As much as I would love to catch up, though, I do have someplace else to be." With a snap of her fingers, the woman once again went up in flames.
Before the young man had time to even think about his reaction, he was knocked back by another hard explosion.
A small, curbside tree broke his fall this time. The thin branches snapped under Christian as he crashed into it, dumping him onto the sidewalk harshly. The wind left his lungs as he landed, and he struggled on the ground for a moment-- coughing and wheezing in an attempt to gain his air back.
Christian struggled to his feet, using what was left of the tree to help support him. He glanced around, hoping to see even a fleeting glance of the woman; but all that remained was the mess she had left behind.
The man smacked himself in the head a couple of times. "Estás pero si bien pendejo!" He muttered to himself. "Augh!"
Title: The Pianist on the Subway / (Surprise?) Epilogue
Pairing: JohnDave
Warning: None
AO3 and tumblr EXCLUSIVE Chapter
Chapter 1 ==>
Chapter 20==>
I'm six months late with this trash I can't believe this
---
John's hovering over your shoulder and almost making you feel super uncomfortable. Under the circumstances, though, you can't exactly blame him. He's so fucking excited that not only is it contagious, but it's practically radiating off of him. "Is it up yet?" he says excitedly, his hands on your shoulders. "I thought you said it would take five minutes!"
"Calm down, dude, they're uploading still. You can see the progress bar right there," you say, pointing to the computer screen.
John just groans and rests his forehead against the back of your head.
It's been three and a half months since John first said 'I love you'. The cast is finally gone from his wrist and he's more or less off of the pain meds- an occasional ibuprofen here or there to help with the soreness, but other than that he's been doing his stretches and the doctors said that everything's looking great. John was out of the plaster within eight weeks and you guys got to work almost straight away.
Writing the music was the easy part, but recording was more difficult; John was only able to play for a few minutes at a time for the first couple of weeks. And you had to make him step away from the piano on more than one occasion because you could tell it was too much for him.
In the end, the two of you decided to focus your energy on a modest three songs. It would be enough to make a good couple of bucks, and introduce the new elements to your music so your listeners will know what to expect from the future.
And now you're uploading those first three songs and you could swear that you've never seen John this happy about anything. He's usually pretty excitable anyway, but now it's like he can't contain himself. You're waiting for him to just burst out of himself at any second. It's kind of cute, and also kind of strange to see someone react this way to something that you've grown so accustomed to doing. This whole process is pretty normal for you, but you suppose that it could be a bit exhilarating if you've never gone through this kind of thing.
The progress bar hits the end and reads 100% complete. "Hey John," you say, moving your head around back and forth in an attempt to get his attention. "It's done."
You feel him move his head away from yours quickly, leaning over you to get a good look at the computer screen. You make a little noise at the back of your throat as he rests his weight on top of yours, making you bend forward slightly and uncomfortably. He pays you no attention and instead takes a good, silent minute to gawk at the screen while you sit unhappily under him. And then he stands up, pulling away from you. "Yeaaaaaaah!" he yells, drawing the word out long and loud.
Smiling, you turn in your chair to look at him. He's got his arms thrust up in the air and he's dancing around like a stupid idiot and he's so so happy. "You're even worse at dancing than I am," you comment smugly, leaning back and watching him. John slows and moves towards you, taking a seat on your lap and grinning like your words could never phase him. And they probably can't.
"So I'm excited!" he says, rolling his flicking your nose hard. "Sue me!" He tries to keep a straight face when he says this, but ends up breaking into another huge grin and bounces up and down on your lap like the excited little kid you know lives somewhere deep down in his heart. But then again, maybe that little kid isn't trapped very deep down. "We should go out tonight!" he suggests suddenly, straightening and looking you straight in the face.
There's absolutely no way that you can say no to that look he's giving you- those wide eyes and that smile stretching his cheeks so wide. Ugh, sometimes you almost hate how pathetically in love you are. "What if I told you I already made a reservation?" you tease, waggling your eyebrows at him playfully.
John just stares at you for a moment in surprise. His eyes get even wider and his eyebrows raise more than you thought they were going to be able to. He even goes so far as to drop his jaw and you don't know how you manage to keep your poker face going with as wonderfully dumbfounded he looks. "Did you really?"
You let yourself laugh then, loudly. "No, I didn't- but you should've seen your face when I told you I did!"
He whacks you then and you get into a stupid game of hitting each other for a good half a minute before John grabs your wrists and makes it clear that he's not going to let go until he gets his way. "You're a jerk," he says.
"I know."
"A jerk who's going to go out with me tonight!"
You can't help but chuckle. "Alright alright. But I'm not paying."
He gives a mock-exasperated sigh, as though he's fed up with your bullshit. But you figure that if he's not sick of you yet, then you two have might just have a long, happy run together. "Fine, fine! I'll pay then, ya damn cheapskate!" He leans in and pecks you quickly on the lips. "Let's go to that diner- that one on 3rd Street." It seems that he's calmed down long enough to explain all that he wants. He rests his torso against yours comfortably and you let out a joking little oof. He's heavy, but not enough so that his weight isn't at least a little nice against yours. "We'll get greasy cheeseburgers and dip our fries in our milkshakes...!" You can see him grin out of the corner of his eyes.
"You're still not over that whole thing yet, are you?"
"Nope!" he replies without even having to pretend to think about it. "It's still pretty weird, you have to admit."
You poke him in the sides and he squirms in your lap a bit. "Yeah, but you like it, asshole."
"Yeah. Maybe just a little. I like you too."
"Wow dude, that's uh, that's pretty gay. You better watch what you say there. I thought we were on a strictly no homo basis that's kinda pushing it, wouldn't you say?"
"It's not as homo as your gay ass is."
You gasp dramatically as if you were actually offended. "Well now I'm not taking you to dinner." You look away, nose raised.
John leans his weight even more onto your body, his head resting against yours. "You were never taking me anyway. I'm paying remember?"
"Oh, don't worry. I most certainly did not forget," you promise. Someone else saying they've got dinner is something you never forget. Ever.
John laughs quietly, pressing his lips against your forehead. You hear him whisper something that sounds suspiciously like the word "loser", but you don't waste any time in asking what his lame insult really was. You tilt your head back and John moves so your lips meet. Your glasses clink against each other, and the two of you snicker a little at that. You feel John's fingers near your temples, pushing up at the joints of your shades, and moving them to rest on the top of your head.
The kiss itself doesn't last more than a few seconds, though it feels like an intimate eternity.
The truth is that this is only a short, fleeting moment spent with your boyfriend right before dinner. But this short moment will add up with all the others and help to create your infinity together.
phew, I got this finished RIGHT before your birthday ended. I just hope that you’re still up to see it, friend!!
this may or may not be the lamest thing I have ever written but since I never got a prompt from you, here’s some super domestic johndaves! I sure hope you like it and I hope you had a fantastic day! <3
I definitely was planning on writing something tonight but instead we’ll just pretend I did and say hooray!!
my writing blog turned one year old today!!
thanks for all the support that has come out of that blog. it’s kinda silly but that blog has a good couple of hundred of followers and I can’t say how surprised I am and how happy I am to have 300+ people interested enough in my writing to keep up with me.
it means a lot and I’m not sure I could ever properly express how much you all mean to me as readers and fans.
thank you so much for a year of fanfics and support I hope that I can continue to improve my writing and continue to gain even more readers <3
Title: The Pianist on the Subway / Chapter 20
Pairing: JohnDave
Warning: None
AO3 / ff.net
Chapter 1 ==>
Chapter 19 ==>
Here it is, everybody!
The finale!
Thanks for sticking around regardless of however long you've been reading this fic! Especially to those of you who have been around from the very beginning! It's been over a year and a half since I started and it's been a fun ride.
Thanks for waiting for my hiatuses to finish and for my rough spots and for everything else. Finishing this is a huge step in my writing and I only hope I can continue to entertain you guys with my works in the future!!
Be on the lookout for my upcoming oneshots and for my next big project! <3
----
Against all odds, you manage to wriggle your way out of John's death grip. He's all but passed out in the bed, and your moving doesn't disturb him at all, it seems. You're a little worried about him needing something to cling to during the night, so you grab a pillow from the other side of the bed and move it so that it rests within his reach should he decide to look around for something.
You turn off the bedroom light and shut the door quietly behind you, moving towards the living room with silent footsteps. You would so much rather spend the night curled up with your- your heart flutters even as you think the word- boyfriend.
He's your boyfriend and he said he loves you.
Every fiber of your being sings with the memory and you're very tempted to turn right around and climb back into bed. You turn to face the door- as though you're actually considering it- and then with a reluctant, hesitant sigh, you turn right back around and cross the rest of the distance to the couch. You really don't want to spend the night on the couch, in fact, you hate the idea; you're going to wake up tomorrow morning feeling like shit all over.
But then you think about John in the morning, and the panic he'd surely be feeling should he wake up in bed with you. If he remembered any of his conversation with you from tonight, despite how clothed both of you were, he'd probably freak out. It was best for both of you if you just spent the night separate. There'd be enough time for coddling him tomorrow- and judging from how drunk he had managed to get himself tonight, he was going to need a lot of it.
You fall asleep happily thinking about it, forgetting to even grab a blanket for the night.
Several hours later, you wake up- cold and uncomfortable- to some loud sounds and swears in the bathroom. You groan unhappily, stretching your sore limbs and back out before you even attempt to sit up. You take a moment to rub at your neck and dismiss some of the knots that have formed, and then count yourself off to standing.
"John?" you call lightly, shuffling towards the bathroom. "What the hell are you doing?"
He peeks his head out from around the edge of the bathroom doorway- his hair a mess, and his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and probably a little bit of pain. Put simply, he looks like absolute shit. "Where is the advil?" he asks desperately, skipping over all of the morning greetings you guess you weren't really expecting this morning.
You laugh a little, pushing past him to get into the bathroom. "Here," you say, moving towards the cupboard and locating the bottle of pills with ease. He grabs it from you with his good hand and fumbles with the top; it's pretty hard to open a child-proof bottle when your most important hand is stuffed into a hard cast. But he finally manages, and pours a couple out into his hand. He pops them in and turns on the sink, washing the small, white pills down with water straight from the faucet.
You watch with a raised eyebrow, a little sadistically amused. "Rough night?" you say.
John groans loudly. "Leave me alone," he whines, grabbing the bottle of advil and exiting the room. "I'm going back to bed." He leaves you chuckling in the bathroom, but you catch up to him in no time, meeting him in the bedroom and sliding into bed along with the poor guy.
Surprisingly enough, he doesn't protest when you hug him close to your chest.
Okay so he whines a little when you move him, but that's it.
John falls back asleep soon enough, his back pressed against your chest and his arms wrapped around the forearm you have draped over his torso. You think you might've dozed off for a little while, following John into a light sleep before he pulls you back awake again. He moves around, shifting seemingly endlessly until he finally pushes himself to sit up. You watch as he looks around, rubbing his eyes and yawning quietly.
"Feeling any better?" you ask him, moving a hand to rest on what little you can access of his under his cast.
He looks back at you, smiles tiredly and nods. "Yeah. I think so, anyway; my headache is mostly gone, so...." He shrugs. When you don't sit up to join him, he moves to lay back down next to you once again. "So how come you slept on the couch?"
You let out a short laugh. "Do you remember any of what you said last night?"
The memory must not be very fresh, because he needs to take a moment to think about it- his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth curving down into a slight frown before all that tension in his face suddenly releases in surprise and slight horror. "Oh my gooooooood!" he moans, turning over to bury his face into the pillow. "Oh my god oh my god oh my god." His voice, as muffled as it is, sounds so distressed and embarrassed and it makes you laugh even more. You rub circles into his back in an attempt to comfort him.
John peeks up at you. "We didn't... do anything, right?"
"You put it in my butt and I came so hard I'm going to be blind for the rest of my life."
He just stares at you in- telling from what little you can see of his face- confused horror.
Again, you snort. "Nah, dude, we didn't do anything. That's why I was sleeping on the couch, remember?" You give his back a couple of light pats in assurance. He then sighs in what you think is relief and buries his face once more.
"That's not funny," he grumbles. "Don't joke around like that, asshole."
You smile, leaning down to kiss his head. The next few seconds of both of your lives are silent, as you struggle to find the words you want to say regarding last night- about what John had last said to you last night. "So did you mean it?" you ask finally, as calmly and cooly as you can manage.
"Yeah," he says, and your heart flutters, "you are an asshole." And then your heart sinks and you can feel your mouth twisting into the least amused face you've ever pulled.
"No, not that." You poke him just under the ribs and snicker when he jumps. He smacks you in response, but it's totally worth it.
"Then what?" He turns over to lay on his side so he can face you.
You hesitate, worried that he doesn't remember, or that when he does remember, he'll realize it hadn't been genuine. "Last night..."
"Yeah?"
"You said..."
"Yeah?" He grins, his eyes twinkling with just a hint of mischief. He's trying to coax this out of you.
"Well I mean, you said a lot of things, but-" He effectively cuts you off, leaning forward and kissing your lips with his own. You can feel yourself relaxing more and more with each second that your mouths are connected. A half a moment later and John pulls back, still smiling brightly.
He can't help but plant one more very short kiss before he says anything. "Yes," he says, a bit quieter. "I... I think I meant it."
Your heart soars in your chest. Your breathing feels lighter and easier and your entire body just feels like the whole world was lifted off your shoulders. You surge forward and kiss him, accidentally knocking him back and he laughs, taking you down with him. God- you think- this is great. You have him. You have John and he loves you and- god. John.
John.
Who you've only known for about a month, who you can't wait to spend the rest of your life with- wait, is it too soon to be thinking about that? Who fucking cares, you decide; you're in love and this is by far the strongest and most sure you've ever felt about anything and you just want to hold him and be with him forever and be there to talk to him and write with him and just do every single last thing there is to do with him. Because you love him. You love him, you love him, you love him.
hey guys! so this is really annoying, but I have to change my writing tag again!
when I chose the tag #novel tea, no one posted in it.
now people post in it.
so if you follow my writing tag it's time to move again! I'm really sorry about this guys! my new writing tag is #jdt writes! please follow that one instead of #novel tea!!!
