#Flick begrudgingly brought home some guy and now he’s down bad
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hyper-pixels · 24 days ago
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Flick watches the 40 year old ghost see-er get thrown in prison for cheating and the first thought is that he needs that guy’s hand and marriage? Cmon man he sold you a fake fossil and you’re still wearing it?
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helloheyhihowdyheya · 1 year ago
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Rose Thorn Blues | pt. 2
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Peter Parker x fem!reader
Part One Masterlist
Summary: Begrudgingly, you let Peter Parker help you with the story. Even if it leads you two going undercover as a couple...
Word count: ~4k
Warnings: Enemies to lovers!! Fake dating!! Banter. More Criminal activity. Swearing. A lil bit of tension.
A/n: Well, I thought I'd share this smaller part before I head on vacation. Sorry it's not longer, but I hope this holds over until I'm back home! Thank you for reading, and let me know your thoughts <3
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“Should I be regretting this?” you asked, immediately shaking your head as Parker wheeled over to your side.
“Too late.” He grabbed your notebook from your hands, kicking his feet up on your desk as he began to read. His lips moved silently along with the words, each curved syllable whispering past his mouth. You looked away when his eyes flicked to yours, those lips tilting into a grin even as he continued reading.
His fingers flipped the worn page of your notes, leaving you to pick at the hem of your shirt while waiting for him to finish.
You pulled your legs closer to you, trying to focus on the material of your pants rather than the urge to draw yourself into your body. But your nerves flared at the edges of your senses, telling you made the wrong choice. And only once you were about to pretend to need coffee just to step away, Parker blew out a tight sigh.
He muttered out, “Christ…”
Swallowing down the jolt in your muscles at his words, you turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Is that good or bad?”
His hand scratched along his jaw, his gaze following the words before slowly rising to meet yours. “Uh, your research is… good. Really good. But this,” he said, gesturing to the notebook, “is pretty bad.”
You chewed on your bottom lip, that quiet doubt inside your mind growing ever so louder. Barely blinking, you stared off wondering where this could go. Where you could end up if you went through with it. Your attention only snapped back when Parker cleared his throat.
He watched you, your expressions, with no humor on his face as he whispered, “So, you really went to this warehouse… by yourself in the middle of the night?” His finger pointed at your notes that indeed held your observations from last night. Still, that didn’t stop you from trying to lie and come up with anything that wouldn’t incriminate you.
When you didn’t answer, instead glancing at your fingers intertwining, he scoffed. “You know you could’ve really gotten hurt going there alone. Or worse. I don’t think these guys play around.”
“I wasn’t alone. I talked with Spider-Man,” you said, as if that could convince Parker that your plan hadn’t been a bad idea. But he raised an eyebrow at you, a half-smile on his face.
“Yeah? Now you’re buddy-buddy with him too?” A ghost of a laugh escaped him, but his eyes hardened, not leaving you. “I’m serious, sunshine. Spidey’s not gonna be there to always save you. We gotta do this carefully.”
Choosing to ignore the unyielding tone his words were wrapped in, you grabbed your notebook back from him, your jaw set. “I know that, Parker. And I’m not exactly in harm’s way now that I don’t have any other leads. All he’s got is some BS fundraiser I can’t get into,” you said, sitting back in your chair. Silently, as you traced a finger down the writing you’d gone over dozens of times already, you grumbled under your breath about the rude receptionist you’d talked to about it.
“A fundraiser?” 
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The collar of his long-sleeve shirt swooped down an inch, drawing your eyes to the shadow of his chest before nodding. He then asked, “What could we find out from that anyway? Not like Beaumont is gonna be any more truthful with those rich people than he is with the general public.” 
He brought the end of a pen to his mouth, beginning to chew on it before you could realize he took it from your desk. You just pressed your lips together, letting it go as he thought out loud some more — now beginning to spin in his desk chair.
“He’s hiding plenty of secrets as is, I’m sure there’s gotta be some that we could uncover by getting close, right? Maybe we could-”
“Parker! Where are those pictures you promised me!”
Jameson’s voice boomed through the office, sending the both of you jumping in your seats. Parker cleared his throat and called back, “Emailing them to you now, sir.”
Beneath the sound of Parker’s squeaky desk chair rolling back to his side, you heard Jameson swear  under his breath. You didn’t dare peek over the half-wall and risk getting yelled at too. Instead, as frantic typing came from Parker’s keyboard, you wrote on a post-it note, “Able to stay late. We can talk about this piece. In peace. Haha…”
You folded it in half twice before tossing it over onto his side and returning to research — even as it felt useless to do so. A small twinge of hope trickled up your spine, so subtle you barely noticed it before it reached the base of your head. A hope that Parker said yes. 
As another site turned up blank, you told yourself asking him was just to move this story along, even if it meant spending the evening with the intern you always seemed to stand in the shadow of. But this story could bring you over the top and show Jameson you deserved that job.
A few minutes later, a flash of paper flew from Parker’s side and landed right on your eye.
“Shit…” you groaned out, lightly rubbing your eye and blinking it repeatedly — all while you heard suppressed laughter from the other desk. Quietly, you muttered, “Dick,” and opened up the note. The only thing added to it was a poorly drawn thumbs-up.
With that settled, along with the weird relief at his answer that you shoved lower and lower, you worked on some of your assigned stories. One blurred into the next, all of them superficial enough to turn your brain fuzzy over the course of the work day. You wondered what Alice was working on and if they ever made her feel like this.
By the time people began packing up for the day, long after your mediocre lunch from the closest food shop, your head nearly felt numb. At least this story could be the break you needed from all this — all the unimportant parts of reporting, like who broke up with who, and how Spider-Man is somehow the reason for it. Again.
You rubbed a tired hand down your face, letting the warm darkness of it swallow you for a moment. Your head shot up finally once a granola bar clattered across your desk.
Parker’s head then appeared from around the half-wall, the wave of his dark hair looking ran through. “I stole it earlier today, but I think you need it more than I do, sunshine,” he said, pointing to the bar with a tilt of his head.
Your stomach growled as you grabbed it, ripping it open. “That’s such a stupid nickname,” you muttered before taking a bite, looking up at him with a half-assed glare.
“It’s more creative than you calling me ‘Parker.’ That’s just my last name.” He laughed, his eyes lighting up.
Quirking your head, you blinked slowly at him. “If I’m sunshine, then you’re moonshine. Makes sense too, cause I need to be drunk to even tolerate you, Parker,” you grumbled, finishing off the granola bar.
And before he could open that stupid mouth of his, you threw away the wrapper and said, “I think Jameson’s gone if we want to start on the story. We-”
“Now?” Parker’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at you, his hand coming up to run down his neck. “Immediately vetoing. C’mon.”
Before you could ask any questions, he stood up and walked toward the doors, shouting over his shoulder, “Keep up!”
As much as your mind resisted listening to him, your eyes and legs definitely needed the break. So you followed after him, staring at his back as you made your way down the building’s steps.
Out on the sidewalk, the sun sat lower in the sky at this hour. Clouds scattered throughout kept the air from getting too hot, the feeling bringing a content smile to your face.
Blinking at him, you saw the way the sunlight showered down on Parker. The effortlessness of his hands sitting in his pockets and his hair laying perfectly messy — even his goddamn freckles glowing in the light — set a sparking anger in your chest. It only twisted, turned more sour, when he opened his mouth.
“You know… it’s not polite to stare at someone. Even if they are ruggishly handsome.”
A laughing scoff escaped your mouth, your eyes instead drifting across the crowd of people passing along the sidewalk. “I was just trying to figure out how your head fit such a little brain inside it. Does it just roll around like an acorn in there? Maybe a pea?”
Feeling the glare from his side-eye, you caught his growing half-smile. “Yeah? Could a pea-sized brain be smart enough to find us an actual dinner?”
“I mean… probably. But,” you said, tilting your head at him, “that’s not the worst plan you’ve had.” For emphasis, your stomach growled while you two walked down the street. And through grabbing carryout to eat back at the office, you made it a point to not stare at Parker — or do anything to give him a bigger ego than he already had. 
His often irritating words certainly made it easy enough, like now as he spoke in between bites of his food from the takeout box. “So, I’m thinking–”
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
You let out a laugh as he flipped you off, the shaking in your shoulders helping lift a weight from them. At least it was easy to laugh with him — or at him.
With a pointed stare, he continued. “I’m thinking that we have to find the connection between Beaumont and spidey… man. Spider-Man. With that warehouse you nearly burgled.”
You raised a skeptical eyebrow at him as he leaned against your desk. With your feet propped up next to where he sat, you ate your food from your desk chair. The office lay bare beside you two, your ID cards giving you access after hours. Unsurprisingly, the brainstorming hadn’t been terribly productive yet.
“I did not burgle anything… yet. But I haven’t seen anything between those two before. Maybe Beaumont’s just a big fan. He’s taking all our money just to grow his collection of supervillain memorabilia.”
Parker let out a quiet laugh. “Sounds like something Jameson would do.” 
You internally shivered at the idea of finding your boss’s secret stash of Spider-Man collectibles.
Silence slipped over the two of you, just the noises of eating and the building’s air conditioning as you both thought through the details. Eventually, he said, “So this Ellis Beaumont guy has to have some sort of conflict with Spider-Man, meaning we could research what crimes of Beaumont’s that Spider-Man has stopped.”
An unsure look overtook your face. “That’s way too many to look through — and it’s not like that information is recorded anywhere. This politician keeps things tightly under wraps…” you sighed, letting out a tired laugh that didn’t feel all that funny. “It feels like I’m right back where I started.”
“Could that fundraiser of his give us answers?” Parker asked, his eyes glancing at yours.
You hesitantly nodded as you swallowed your next bite. “Probably, since it’s at his house apparently. But without an invitation, we’re kind of shit out of luck.”
“So we get an invitation and do some snooping during the event. Easy enough.”
Parker had put his food down, and you did not like the growing smirk on his face. “Before you say anything,” he told you, “I know a guy. It’ll be fine — we’ll just dress the part and do some investigative journalism.”
“Oh, so it’s bad to check out a warehouse, but we’ll just crash the fundraiser of a member of the government body and suspected criminal? You’re insane.” A scoff escaped your mouth when he nodded. 
As you dropped your feet from the desk, you wanted to regret letting Parker in on this story or at least question who this guy was that could get you two into this fundraiser, but you had no better plan — or the guts to pull this off without him. 
“This has got to be pretty illegal…” you whispered.
Parker gave you a smile that both calmed you and let butterflies loose in your stomach. “Absolutely. But Beaumont committed the crimes first, so we’re just evening it out.” He crossed his arms, the fabric of his long sleeve wrapped tight around them. With an expectant look, he raised his eyebrows at you. “So, are you in?”
A minute passed as you thought, considering any other plans that wouldn’t end with the both of you in jail. But you came up with nothing. 
This better be one hell of a story. “Okay, fine. Let’s do this.”
“Great!” he said, clapping his hands together. “One more thing, though. We’re going to have to go as a couple. I’m thinking our last name could be–”
“Excuse me?” You cut him off, your eyes widening. Despite your mouth opening, nothing came out. You just dropped your gaze to the wall behind him as you let out a long breath.
“How else are we going to be convincing? All the other people joining are families or couples, right?”
He explained it so matter-of-factly. You understood, really. But pretending to be married to him while sneaking through a mansion? All for a ridiculous unpaid summer internship?
“Parker, have you come up with a torture plan?” You put your face in your hands, quietly groaning. You could be cordial with him and cautiously appreciate his (persistent) help on the story, but the idea of acting as a couple in love with him brought an uneasiness to your body. 
Would Alice approve? It felt again like you weren’t following your heart, which wanted to hide deep down behind your ribs.
Parker looked at you, his mouth pressed tight. “Hey, not exactly like getting down on a knee to you was my original plan here,” he muttered.
Still, you looked back at him, ignoring the intensity of his stare. “So what will our last name be?”
Bennet, it turned out, would be the last name on your IDs and invitations for the banquet in two days. Sam and Rose Bennet. 
During the days leading up, the two of you worked on regular assignments under the eye (and screaming) of Jameson. 
But if someone looked closely, they’d see your leg constantly shaking beneath your desk and Parker’s nails being bitten down to the bed. They might be able to hear the whispered comments between the two of you — most about what your story would be. They would even see the things neither of you could make out, like the unasked questions on the tips of your tongues or the pull that seemed to exist between you and Parker.
The story you decided on was high school sweethearts — private school, of course. Something arranged by your equally rich and philanthropic parents, whose money you’d be happy to donate to Stronger Together during the fundraiser. 
In reality, you both scrounged up enough money to rent nice enough clothes for the event and hoped that you wouldn’t have to pay for any extra damage. Besides the money concern, the risk of something happening to the clothes (and you, more importantly) weighed over your mind. Parker didn’t seem to have any worries, or voice them to you at least, about this whole plan going sideways.
So, you planned for it by yourself. Which exits would be best, which people you should probably stay away from. And you still didn’t ask how Parker exactly got you two into this, not that you were sure you wanted to know.
It didn’t even cross your mind the night of, not as you stood in your apartment, slipping on a floor-length gown that seemed to lay just right. Your fingers ran along your body, fixing things here and there until you were sure no rich politician would look twice at you and suspect something. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you weren’t sure you recognized yourself — or the idea you had of yourself. Maybe that was a good thing.
Your frayed nerves turned electric as your phone went off, a text from Parker letting you know he was here. For a minute, you hesitated. The constant thrumming in your chest clouded your thoughts, telling you something that you couldn’t quite make out.
As a second, more impatient, text came through, you gave one last glance at yourself and walked out into the hallway.
Each step to the front door in shoes that squeezed your feet much too tightly felt like a jolt to your heart. A breeze pushed past you as you walked out to his car — one that he’d have to park far away so the valet couldn’t see his shitty 2004 Honda Civic.
Parker stood leaning against the side of the vehicle, one hand scratching at his jaw and the other shoved far into his rented tux’s pockets. He stared down at his shoes, his vacant look telling you he also had a thousand thoughts running through his mind.
But as his gaze drifted up, connecting with yours, that worried crease between his eyebrows smoothed out, his hand dropping from his jaw down to his lap. Your steps slowed, your fingers clutching tight onto a purse you borrowed from a friend. 
Those honeyed eyes turned bright as a ghosting smile spread across his face. You took in the image of him staring at you in that tuxedo — one that you could tell he wasn’t used to if you looked too hard. Not that you were doing that, of course. Still, the expensive material sat nicely along his tanned skin from the summer sun.
Though, you couldn’t figure out what felt off about him until you came closer, the buzzing in your ears growing much too loud as you neared. Reaching a hand up, your eyebrows furrowed, you went to fix his hair. The caramel strands sat straight and slicked back. It didn’t look like he’d run his fingers through it a hundred times.
But as you felt his breath brush along your skin, saw the stillness of his body, you paused. Too close. Too much, even for a fake couple.
You dropped your hand by your side, begging your body to calm down. You avoided his eyes as you took a step back. “Sorry,” you whispered, maybe for the first time to him, “Your hair just looks so…”
“Stuffy? Obnoxious? Greasy?”
“Pretentious is what I was going to say.”
His tight laugh brought some sort of relief to your tense muscles, even as he pushed off his car and muttered, “Glad we both look the part then.”
You raised an eyebrow, staring at him while fighting a smile. “You know, Parker — or Bennet, I should say — a real gentleman would’ve opened my door for me.”
Right before he plopped down in his car, he said, “You’re lucky I’m even picking you up, Mrs. Bennet.”
Quietly, you let out a huff and got into the passenger seat. Your hands brushed along your dress, straightening it out.
As you picked off a stray piece of lint, you said, “I’m not sure this is the right way to start as a couple.” You tried to make your words sound easy, but it didn’t even sound convincing to you.
Parker began driving, keeping his eyes on the road as he drummed a finger along the steering wheel. “You’re right — but don’t let that get to your head, sunshine. Okay, when did we first meet?”
“We first met fifteen years ago, but we didn’t start dating until ten years ago when our parents put us together. Toward the end of high school…”
“Where we went to different colleges but made the long-distance thing work. Somehow,” he said, waving a hand as if it didn’t matter or no one would ask how.
“And now, using the money we’ve saved up through our parents’ endowment funds and-”
“Wait, what does that even mean?” you asked, realizing he came up with this without telling you until now.
“It uh… it’s something to do with donations. I Googled it — it’s fine. Anyway, we’re using that and their savings to give back like they have always wanted. Great, fool-proof.”
Pursing your lips, you nodded for a second before shaking your head. “Parker, that makes no goddamn sense. This is a terrible idea.”
“Well, we’re going to be there soon, so too late now.”
“It’s actually not too late,” you told him, your throat feeling tight. “Let’s just turn around, okay?”
“Hey,” he said as the car came to a stoplight. He turned to look at you, the shine of the light illuminating half of his face. 
His voice came out soft. “You nearly burgled a criminal’s warehouse, and you lied to a government official’s secretary, or something. This will be a piece of cake, alright?” Ever so quietly, a warmth bloomed in your chest, melting the cold fear that’d been wrapping around you. You gave him a short nod, making him give a tight-lipped smile and keep driving. “Great! Now, suck it up, sunshine, and come up with a better backstory. I can’t do all of the thinking in this marriage.”
A laugh bubbled up from your mouth. You rolled your eyes, even though your fidgeting had calmed down. 
With a long breath out, you said, “What about if my grandmother left me money in her will, and I’m honoring her memory by giving it back to the city she loved?”
“Not bad… and sorry for your imaginary loss. I think it’ll keep people from prying too much further.”
“I hope so,” you muttered, hoping this half-baked plan would work.
Eventually, Parker slowly rolled the car to a stop. He parked on a smaller residential road a few blocks away, but you could still see the lights shining into the sky from Beaumont’s place. His castle to overlook all the peasants of the city.
Your shoes clicked across the pavement, the two of you nearing the mansion. With each step, you tried harder to ignore your heart hammering louder. 
You breathed out a shaky breath when Parker held out his arm next to you. Hesitantly, you took it, wrapping your arm around his. Normally, you might’ve ignored the hardness of his body or the warmth seeping into your skin, but the solid, unyielding feeling of him brought some sort of grounding.
Leaning his mouth toward your ear, Parker said, “Which one do you think is going to pop first? The vein bulging from Jameson’s forehead or the huge one in his neck?” 
The laughs you let out were sharp and involuntary, a smile breaking out on your face. Looking at him, at the grin he sent your way, you said, “Definitely the one on his forehead. And you’re going to be the one to make him mad enough to pop it.”
“I’ll be sure to wear those plastic ponchos the next time I’m late.”
“So… Monday? We can pick one up after the fundraiser for you.”
The giggles underlacing your words slowly died down as you turned the street corner, your eyes catching all the other couples approaching the towering house. Valets stood at the front, taking car keys from guests before they came to the doors — guards standing on either side.
“You’ve got the invitations?” you whispered to Parker, your hold on his arm growing tighter. 
He quietly scoffed. “Of course I have them. Who do you think I-” His words stopped, his hands patting down his suit jacket for the invitation. Right as you felt your stomach threaten to curl in on itself, he flashed you a grin. “Just kidding, they’re right here,” he told you, grabbing them from his pocket.
With a forced smile plastered to your face in front of all these guests, you gritted out, “I’m going to murder you.”
“You are too funny, dear,” Parker said, or more likely, Sam Bennet said as the two of you walked up to the doorman holding his hand out for the invitations. 
The way Parker’s mouth curled around the affectionate name felt foreign at first, but the way the doorman looked at the two of you — as if you really were a happy couple — made it feel right. 
And that was it, that was all it took for a softness to flow over you and let yourself become Rose Bennet. For tonight.
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@hollandweather @dil3mma @reidslovely
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kisskissbanggang · 5 years ago
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Standby pt. 5 -- The Finale
[30+ Min Read/10.2K Words – Bang Chan x Female Reader – Idol!AU – Half Plot, Half NSFW/Smut – Unresolved Pining, Soul Searching, Confrontation, Regrettable Situations, Rough Encounters, Role Reversal, Epilogue]
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Masterlist | Feedback
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You felt cold as you half-heartedly browsed the racks of CDs, and it wasn't just because of the dumping rain outside. This wasn't anywhere near the list of things you wanted to do today, yet here you were. Chris had blandly explained Hyunjae promised to take him to the music store on the way to the studio, that he would only need a ride there since he could more safely get back by himself later that night. However, Hyunjae got called away to one of her hundreds of meetings, and you were reluctantly roped in. It was the only thing he’d said to you since you both came back to Seoul. The car ride had been painfully silent. Chris hadn't even worn headphones. He just stared out the window as you drove. 
Chris’ browsing brought him closer down the aisle  to you. You’d had enough. It’d been rough trying to navigate this chasm between you and you just wanted to see him put at ease. 
“I'm sorry,” you said quietly, not looking up from the display as you browsed. 
“You don't have to say that,” Chris replied coolly. 
“What do you want me to say?” You prodded. Chris just flipped through CDs.
“I don't want you to say anything.”
A sigh sank heavily from your lips. “I just feel really bad--”
“That's fine,” Chris firmly snapped at you, “It's fine that you feel bad, because stringing me along like you have been doesn't feel very good for me either.”
“Stringing you along?!” You hated this. All of this. You hated Chris being hurt, but most of all you hated how confused you still were about everything. And now Chris would barely even look at you, let alone talk to you. 
“Yeah,” Chris nodded enthusiastically, “I took all this time, stupidly thinking we were developing something, really putting myself out there like an idiot just because of what you said on the plane, and--”
You looked up to see what had made Chris stop mid-rant. The cameras were here. He sheepishly bit down his anger and engrossed himself in the CDs. Each plastic case clacking against each other made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. 
It was prudent to always be on the lookout for cameras in public, so you should've still expected them even after there appeared to be none when you arrived. You tried to appear to be intently browsing the racks when an obnoxious voice came behind you. 
“Can I see the happy couple?”
Oh god. Not this guy. You noticed Chris’ shoulders tense along with yours. This guy was awful, this balding frog of a man who was outsourced by a couple fansites to take pictures during school days. You both tried your hardest to focus on your shopping. The guy prodded up against you, only backing off when you shot him a glare. 
“Awh, trouble in paradise?” The frog man laughed, still snapping pictures. 
“Can you leave us alone, please?” You asked begrudgingly. 
“What’s the matter?” The guy condescended, “is boyfriend Chan not getting you the CD you wanted?” This time, the awful man pulled on your sleeve, moving you out of the way to get a picture. 
“Excuse me!” You sharply interjected, stepping back in his frame, “That was extremely rude of you. Please leave us alone.”
“Just a couple of pictures and I'll be out of your way,” he grumbled, elbowing you back to the side. A small crowd was gathering now, despite the distance they kept. You spied a couple of cell phones being whipped out, and the fire in your chest burned a little hotter. 
“I really don’t think so--” you insisted, interrupted as Chris anxiously tugged on the loop of your backpack. Your feet remained planted firmly in place between the two men. 
“Come on,” Chris murmured behind you, “walk away. It’s not worth it.”
“It really isn’t.” The photographer chuckled, now grabbing onto your arm. 
“Let go,” you stiffly ordered, trying to sound as confident as you hoped you could be. 
“Then move,” he challenged. 
“You’re hurting me,” you warned. 
“All the more reason to let me do my job.”
“Fine,” you replied curtly, gaining all the willpower you could, “you do your job, and I'll do mine.”
That was it. You were done. You weren’t dealing with this today -- or anymore, for that matter. Stepping forward, you stomped onto the photographer’s foot, grabbing his camera and shoving it back into his face until he tripped back onto the floor. Your ears perked at Chris’ sharp gasp and whispered string of curses behind you. You grabbed his hand and moved to step around the man, letting out a startled scream as he grabbed onto the leg of your jeans. 
“Cheap move, you little bit--”
Chris stepped forward, getting an arm around you to pull you away. He grabbed ahold of your hand, yanking you back toward the rear exit and away from the assembled onlookers and their cell phones. He slammed open the back door of the store as the photographer got up to his feet and barreled after you. Thankfully the company car was nearby, having chosen to park out of direct view of the street behind the store. You sprinted around and dove into the driver side of the car while Chris scrambled into the passenger seat, your sweating fingers fumbling with the keys as the frog man caught up and attempted to pull the handle. You screamed again, quickly sorting through the keys as Chris reached across you and locked the door. There practically seemed to be three times as many keys as you guessed were necessary. Finally, you got a firm hold of the right key and stabbed it into the ignition. Exhaust spilled out from behind the car as you punched the gas, peeling out of the back parking lot and leaving the photographer in your wake. 
“Why did you get involved?!” You asked Chris, still breathing hard in all the adrenaline as you drove. 
“Me?! Why did you even start it?!” He shot back at you. 
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you let out a crazed laugh, “not all of us are insistent on being so congenial and noble at all times.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I'm not someone who’s going to let people walk all over me just so I can look good.”
“You sure are lucky to have that privilege, aren’t you?” Chris slouched down in the passenger seat, flushed from his anger. “I mean, be condescending all you want, but it works. The pictures speak for themselves. Stay can always tell when I'm not having a good time, even when I wish they couldn’t.” You bit your lip, noticing him fiddling with his fingers and clearly preoccupied with something. The car ride was silent after that, up until you pulled up to the studio. Chris wordlessly opened the door and shouldered his bag. The need to say something, anything, was eating at you as he turned to walk inside. 
“Chris--”
“What?” He asked bluntly, pausing, his hand still about to swing the passenger door shut. He looked so thoroughly exhausted. 
“I'm sorry.”
Chris shrugged. “You couldn't help it.” He looked at you now, really looking at you for the first time in days. Surely, he must've seen how hurt and lost you looked as he shut the door and walked away. 
Your drive back to the dorm felt like a dream, like you were sleepwalking until the moment you walked inside and Hyunjae stormed over to you, apparently back from her meeting. She had yelled and berated you, scolding you for being so stubborn and reckless. Hyunjae shoved her phone in your face, flicking through photos and videos of you and Chris and the photographer. It was useless to tell her you were defending yourself. He was right: the pictures spoke for themselves. You knew you had made a dangerous decision, that the prudent thing to do would’ve been to bite your tongue and do nothing. 
And then she passed the news along. You were too much trouble right now. You were suspended indefinitely while the company figured out how to get rid of you. 
It would take too much of your energy to cry about it. Really, all you could manage to do was catch your bus back to your cold apartment, still sleepwalking as you walked inside. Even though it was your home, it felt so empty. You supposed it was from the lack of people you usually had around, but you knew that in the end, you were just stupid enough to get wrapped up in the wrong good intention. 
Days passed and your friends slowly realized you were back home. The beeping on your phone eventually fizzled from a storm to a light rain, occasionally buzzing as someone wondered where you were, if you were free to catch up. All you could do was drift from the couch to the bathtub to the bed, occasionally heading downstairs to the convenience store on the corner when you noticed you were hungry. It was getting to be too much, weighing on you and insisting upon itself. None of the texts that popped up on your phone were Chris, and they wouldn’t be. You had to finally see that. You resolved to answer the next text that came, praying to feel anything but lost and numb for the first time in weeks. 
Come out tonight, came the next message, we miss you, dummy. You sighed, begrudgingly thankful it was this and not someone inviting themselves over with ice cream and wine. Still, you fussed over an outfit to wear, even if you were quietly glad to be distracted. You settled on a simple and fun dress with some heels you hadn't worn in forever. You finally took the time to fully clean yourself up, even going so far as to put on some more makeup than your usual. The person in the mirror looked vaguely more put together than you felt, which was just what you needed as you ordered an Uber. 
The club was noisy and crowded, which you knew to expect, but it was bearable to have friends there. Everyone was gracious enough to give you two minutes of personal gushing and pecking and prying before the matter on everyone’s minds finally came tumbling out: Chris or, rather, Bang Chan. Were you dating, were you fucking, were you still together? You dragged your friends into a booth before you finally explained all you were willing to be held accountable for: it was complicated, and it wasn’t what it looked like, and it wouldn't be smart to say anything more. Your friends just about murdered you for such an apparent cop-out, but it was true. You couldn’t afford to give anyone the wrong idea, even if that meant telling them virtually nothing. It was dumb to keep things like this secret, but everyone knew that by this point, no amount of backlash could be cancelled out by now. You were obviously something, but saying that out loud — no matter if it was nothing or whatever it was they thought — would be falling off a tightrope. 
Everyone was pressing you for more details when your phone rang. No one ever called you. Who would be calling you? You checked, your eyes widening in surprise. 
Chris. 
You made an excuse to run off to the bathroom, shutting yourself into the last stall and talking low. 
“Hello?” You asked, attempting not to get your hopes up. 
“I’m in a fucking bind,” came Chris on the other end, distressed and yelling over music in the background. Where was he? “Can you help me?”
“How bad is it?” 
“Bad enough for me to be calling you.”
Despite the sting, you understood, snapping back into professional mode. It felt like being launched from underwater and back onto the beach as you grabbed a pad and pen from your purse and took notes. Wherever Chris was, it was only a few blocks away. 
Your friends all booed, trying to be understanding despite their frustration at your leaving so soon. You’d been a hermit for a week and suddenly you come out for a night, only to be whisked away once again. The cold air of the street stung as you stepped onto the sidewalk, your heels clicking on the asphalt as you shrugged on your regrettably light jacket. You knew you could walk in the time it would take to wait for a car so you hurried along, dodging passersby and praying it wouldn’t rain. 
You were surprised to find yourself standing in front of another nightclub and you made sure you had the right address. Sure enough, this was the place. You were bewildered as you walked through, grumbling as you dug out a couple bills to pay the cover charge and trying to peer through the dim lighting. The cacophony and drunks were just as annoying as the last club you were in. Chris almost never expressed much interest in going to places like this, so what was he doing here? You combed the whole place, even asking a bartender for a “friend” who just happened to match Chris’ description, when you finally heard a commotion behind you. 
Sure enough, there was Chris, Jisung, and Changbin, all holding back Hyunjae as she clawed at a bouncer. The boys were obviously trying to lay low with their face masks still on. Changbin had the brim of his baseball cap pulled low on his face, and Jisung had his hoodie pulled up. Somehow, the three of them were having a hard time calming down the small woman. 
“I shouldn’t have to leave! Let go of me!” Hyunjae drunkenly screeched, kicking and swinging as the boys tried to keep her contained. She accidently pulled at Chris’ face mask, ripping it off and making Jisung’s hood fall back. Right on cue, the cell phones whipped out and a crowd gathered on the fringes. You stepped forward, and the boys all looked up as they noticed you. Thinking fast, you did the first thing that came to mind: you punched Hyunjae right under the sternum, hard enough to knock the air out of her. The boys quickly grabbed her as she crumpled, slinging her over Chris’s shoulder and Changbin picking up her bag. They followed you out, running out to find the company car while onlookers still followed and tittered behind. 
“Car?” You breathlessly asked the boys behind you. 
“Around the corner, one block down on the left,” Jisung blurted out as he followed. 
And, of course, the photographers, having hidden away in the corners of the club, made their way to the front of the assembled crowd, snapping photos. You fell behind now, trying to get space between them and the boys until they ran up to the car. Jisung yanked Hyunjae’s bag off of Changbin’s arm, digging around until he found the keys and beeped the car open. Hyunjae was loaded into the back, Jisung and Changbin getting in on either side of her as Chris jumped into the front seat. Once they were safely inside, you ran up as quickly as you could in your high heels and fell into the driver's seat. You all fumbled to get the keys into your hand and into the ignition, cursing and yelling as the photographers caught up to you when you finally got the car started. You blasted the horn to disperse the swarming crowd and threw the car in reverse, feeling a bizarre sense of deja vu as you peeled out of the parking lot and onto the street. 
“Where are we going?!” Jisung asked from the backseat. 
“Hyunjae’s place,” you firmly decided, “we can’t let anyone else see her like this. We’ll get her inside and I’ll get you all a ride while I stay with her.”
“Are you sure?” Changbin asked. You nodded definitively. 
“Absolutely. She would do the same.”
You shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat as your dress hugged your legs together more than you’d like. You tried to be sneaky as you slid the hem up a few inches, just enough to get more comfortable as you sped along, but you still noticed Chris out of the corner of your eye, absently watching the extra flash of skin. His attention hurt for some reason, having proof that he still was capable of looking at you that way but not wanting to. 
“Tell me what happened,” you prodded, getting his attention back. He shrugged with a sigh, broad shoulders softening. 
“We were out meeting a producer down the street,” he explained. “Hyunjae-noona’s been acting weird all day, and she said she would wait at the club for us since we were having dinner and would be a while. I thought it was weird at the time, but… I guess I didn't realize what a bad idea it was.”
“It's fine,” you consoled, “your intentions were good. Hyunjae fucked up, not you.”
The boys worked to bring Hyunjae after you as you parked in her building's garage and headed to the elevator. You'd only been here one or two times, but you were still impressed with how humbly nice her place was. You were sure to be quiet as you silently moved down the hallway. 
Until you dropped the keys on the front doormat. 
Hyunjae roused as you hurried to pick up the keys, instantly getting rowdy again. The boys all jumped to attention, doing their best to shush her again as you got the door open. It was so polite of her to decide now was the time to finally lurch. 
“Bathroom, quick,” you directed, Chris following your pointed finger down the hallway. He unloaded Hyunjae off his shoulder and onto the floor besides the toilet and you leapt down beside her, getting her to retch inside. You all took a moment to breathe before Chris surprised you with an offered hand to help you up. 
“I think she's got it from here,” he panted with a small smile. You nodded, exhausted, pulling your phone from your purse and dialing for a car. This was a case of calling on a trusted company, and not just a ride share. The two of you walked back down the hallway, catching Jisung and Changbin collapsed on the couch in the small living room. You directed him to the tiny kitchen, letting yourself fall into a chair at the table. 
“You look really good, by the way,” Chris remarked, but he wasn't quite looking at you as he finally relaxed into the seat on the other side of the small table. 
“So do you,” you replied awkwardly. He really did. He was obviously sleeping and eating and staying active -- he was fine, just like you knew he'd be.
“I'm sorry if I dragged you away from your plans.”
“I was just out with some friends,” you waved him off, “I wasn't having an amazing time anyway.” His eyebrow perked up at the mention of ‘friends’, but what did that mean? 
“How have you been? The others have missed you.”
What about you, you wanted to ask, didn't you miss me? You thought against it. “I'm fine,” you shrugged, “I'm looking for new work.”
“What?” Chris did look at you now, surprised and a little hurt. 
“Well, yeah,” you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, “I can't stick around and keep causing trouble. Tonight definitely won't help that.”
“Okay then, that's fine,” Chris shrugged, “so you’re looking at other companies?”
“Not exactly,” you admitted.
“Oh. So you’re switching tracks, then? You’d do great in marketing.”
“No, same track…  But somewhere else. When I was first getting into trouble when we were abroad… Hyunjae mentioned a friend at a production agency in L.A. I actually have a letter of recommendation I want Hyunjae to sign. I even brought it out to show my friends tonight.”
“What?!”
You reached forward, pressing a finger to Chris’ lips and he smacked it away. “Will you quiet down, please?” You pleaded. He looked at you, aghast as he shook his head. “I’m sure you're even madder at me, from the sound of it,” you frowned. He shook his head again.
“No. I'm mad at myself. I'm mad that I let myself think if I got this behind me, that we could... It’s stupid. This is honestly stupid. I should've never let myself love you. It’s just made everything that much more difficult.”
“What?” You asked, dumbfounded. “You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t tell me how I feel,” Chris reeled, “I’m sorry, but I really am starting to regret falling for you.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. You don’t love me,” you insisted. Chris let out an indignant laugh as he got up. 
“I can't believe you,” he scoffed. “Fine. Tell me what to do. I don’t love you. Whatever. I'm getting the guys and waiting downstairs.”
You watched, feeling a bizarre sense of heartache as Chris pushed himself away from the table and stormed off. There was a quiet argument in the living room, and the front door finally swung open and shut. A heavy sigh fell from your gut as you got up. You eventually had to check on Hyunjae; everything had been too quiet. You padded down the hall into her bedroom, sliding open her organized drawers to find her some pajamas. You kicked off your tall shoes before heading back down the hall. 
Hyunjae lay in a heap against the wall next to the toilet, cheeks flushed but otherwise looking alright. 
“When did you get here?” She slurred tiredly as you worked on getting her dirty blouse off. 
“You’re a mess,” you said, feeling almost stronger for saying it out loud. “You caused a lot of fucking trouble tonight. I'm glad it wasn't me for once.”
“I just missed my baby,” she whined, her head lolling back down to her chest as you wrestled a pajama top onto her. 
“Ugh,” you wrinkled your nose, “don’t call me that.”
“Not you, stupid,” she scolded. She kicked you off as she searched for her bag. When she couldn’t find it, she slumped back against the wall, lazily gesturing out to the hallway as she shimmied off her jeans. “In my bag… My baby.”
Whatever. You could leave your letter of recommendation in there for her to sign, but you mostly wanted to know what the hell she was talking about. You found the bag sitting on the couch in the living room where Jisung must’ve left it. Carefully, you shifted around the jostled contents until something caught your eye -- an envelope. Another letter? You slipped it open, wondering exactly what you were looking at when inside was just a picture of a little girl. 
“See, stupid?” Hyunjae asked from behind you. She was fully dressed in her pajamas, leaning against the doorway to the living room. “My baby.”
“I don’t understand,” you shook your head.
“You wouldn’t,” she laughed meanly. “She’s six years old now. I get a picture of her every year. Look on the back. She likes to ride horses and her favorite color is blue.”
“Why isn’t she with you?” You sat on the couch, looking at the picture of the little girl. Hyunjae collapsed onto the couch beside you. 
“Her father knew what was best. He always told me that he would do right by me. We’re not together, and she’s with a family that isn’t stupid like we were. So I guess that’s what was right.”
“Who is--”
“The father? We met when I first became a manager. He was mature and nice and getting divorced. He’s still at JYP.”
You stared, eyes shaking a little as you looked from Hyunjae to the picture and back again. “But who--”
“None of your fucking business,” Hyunjae spat. “He doesn’t get pictures. Just me. I had her by myself, no one else was at the hospital with me. She was my little secret, and now she’s my six-year old little secret.”
“Why stay there, though?” You asked incredulously. “You could work anywhere.”
“I love my job. It’s my whole life. I told him I'd give up the baby if he kept my job. I shouldn't have to leave because I made a mistake.”
You blinked hard at the irony, shaking your head at the absolute audacity of the mental gymnastics at play here. All this time you’d hoped that Hyunjae was acting from a place of platonic admiration, a kind of kinship making her want you to succeed… Not some sort of bitter vendetta against her own mistakes. She ardently believed you couldn't help it just because she couldn’t. That realization burned, but it didn’t manifest as more anger. You pitied Hyunjae, and this didn't feel unlike the moment you’d realized your parents were flawed adults doing their best. Hyunjae interrupted your thinking with her miserable snoring from her end of the couch and, after making sure she was bundled up in a blanket and propped on her side, you found a bucket in her cleaning supplies to set by her. You grabbed a sports drink from her fridge and placed it on the coffee table. To top it off, you dug your letter of recommendation out of your purse, slipping the envelope under the picture of Hyunjae’s six year-old little secret and ultimately helping yourself to the bedroom. 
Nights passed and you didn’t hear from anyone. The morning after you bailed out Hyunjae, you’d slipped your shoes back on and caught an Uber home without rousing her. You didn’t hear from Chris or any of the members, you didn’t hear from Hyunjae, and you didn’t hear from any of your friends because while you were bailing out Hyunjae, you bailed out on them, and they assumed you wanted space. And maybe you did. You threw yourself into your schoolwork, almost forgetting in all this madness that graduation was fast approaching. Normally, you’d be looking forward to becoming a full-time manager, but now you had no idea what would become of you. You checked and rechecked and triple-checked all your graduation materials, refusing to mess anything else up. After all these years of hard work, you would at least walk out with the degree you were entitled to, if not for losing your dream job in the process. 
Graduation itself was almost a relief. Your family got stuck mid-travel and couldn’t make it, but you were being assured through multiple texts during the ceremony that one of your friends was keeping them in the loop and sending pictures. This was puzzling, considering you were currently sitting with most of your friends. It hurt to not have your family in attendance after all this work, but it was nice to know they were trying. You couldn’t shake the fact, though, that this felt like a post-mortem. After this was some ominous void that looked like it could swallow you whole. Years of careful planning, and now you were jobless and directionless. There was really no telling how difficult it would be to find a job with your current reputation if you didn't have someone vouching for you, and the idea of switching tracks entirely felt like failure. 
An elbow in poking into your arm let you know that your existential crisis was almost holding up your row of students. You quietly apologized, quickly getting up and falling into line towards the stage. You still couldn’t focus, lost in how going back to making coffee for bratty teens and huffy professionals would only remind you of how short you cut yourself off. Everything only became more fully realized as you crossed the stage and accepted your diploma. You smiled and waved for the event photographer, but were starkly distracted by something beyond the barrier, towards the back of the grand lawn where the ceremony was being held. A shock of blonde hair and some broad shoulders clad in black caught your eye, only blurred by the distance, but an odd shape that looked eerily like Hyunjae’s giant purse only made you feel even crazier. It would be a bit ridiculous to ghost you and suddenly show up on the fringes of your graduation. Chris, maybe, but absolutely not Hyunjae. Clearly, you had just imagined it, and you shook your head, ready to just head back to your apartment. 
No school and no job would end up being a huge learning curve to get used to. Waking up and having nothing was a bizarre feeling, and it made you a bit anxious, feeling even more lost than you already had. You tried going back to the gym. You tried going for walks, even when rain was dumping down outside. You got together your resume and a CV and portfolio materials. Nothing was helping fill this vacuum you’d created. For a couple days you severely considered texting Chris, your finger hovering over the send button but never going through with it. Again, he was fine. He would be fine, and once you moved on with everything, you'd be fine, too. 
Another rainy night arrived, this time seemingly out of nowhere, and you were taking firm stock of your cabin fever. What could be changed before you eventually had to move? You could get some plants, you supposed, maybe liven up this oddly cold apartment that didn’t look like anyone of substance actually lived here, when a knock sounded at the door. You tried peering out the front window which looked out at the walkway outside, but whoever was at the door was just out of sight. Carefully, slowly, you cracked open the door and peered out. You gasped. 
Chris. 
He was soaked, having apparently been caught in the sudden downpour. You both stood on either side of the threshold and warily regarding each other. Chris moved first, unable to keep still any longer and he stepped through your doorway, taking your face in his hands and kissing you back into your apartment. Your hands covered his, unsure if you wanted to tear them off of you or hold on tight. You did, however, finally let logic rule for a moment. Your hands drifted down to his chest, his drenched shirt under his open jacket clammy on your fingers as you gently pushed him back. 
“What are you doing here?” You asked him, unsure if you were speaking quietly or if your heart was just beating too loudly in your ears. 
“It’s okay,” he panted, “I’m supposed to be out with a friend right now.”
“No, Chris,” you shook your head, “why are you here?”
“I…” He paused, biting at his lip as he thought. Were those raindrops on his cheeks? “I heard Hyunjae on the phone earlier. She was talking to her friend in L.A., and I realized you’re really leaving and I might never see you again, and…” He paused again, a little more choked up and frazzled now. 
You took his hand, softly massaging his fingers in your grip. “Chris, Hyunjae isn’t going to just ship me off to L.A. She’s too bitter for that. I don’t know what you heard earlier, but you didn’t have to come here--”
“No,” Chris insisted, “Don't condescend to me. I had to come. No matter what, that moment just solidified that I--.”
You shook your head, letting go of Chris’ hand before he held onto you himself. “Don't say it--”
“Oh, don't you start with that again,” he shushed you. “Would you stop and listen to me for once? If you don't let someone in you're going to end up just as miserable as she is.”
“Fine,” you huffed, wrenching your hands out of his, “I can let someone in, but it doesn't have to be you and I don't have to ruin your career in the process.”
“Would you stop being such a martyr?!” Chris reeled. “Stop being so stubborn and let me be the one to do right by you for once. Don't treat me like I'm so precious, alright?! I'm so tired of being your little secret.”
“Secret? People know, Chris.”
“Then why are you still pretending you don't have any sort of real feelings for me?! What you say and what you do practically never line up and it's driving me absolutely insane. You're so insistent that you're the only one making sacrifices here and I've had it.”
You folded your arms, waiting and praying you were masking the fire raging just under your skin. “Fine. You've made sacrifices, too. Did you get that out of your system? Are you finished?”
“Holy shit!” Chris sputtered. “Would you come off it already? I come out here to tell you I fucking love you and you are being the biggest dick about it!”
“Stop saying that!” You sighed heavily. By this point you were both pacing your tiny apartment. 
“Stop?! This is the first time I could even try to get you to listen after last time, you nag!”
“If you’re going to be calling me names, maybe you should get the hell out,” you ordered, thrusting a pointed finger at the door. 
“Fine!” Chris spat, turning to leave. “Maybe I spoke too soon. You're already plenty like Hyunjae. She must be carting you off because she can’t stand having competition for Most Selfless Asshole.”
That did it. The fire under your skin shot up to your eyes and all you saw was red. You reached past him, grabbing the door handle for him and moving to shove him outside yourself. 
“Hey, would--? Would you -- fucking stop it!” Chris struggled against you. He attempted to push you back so he could actually leave, only to be met with your grappling hands every time he tried to create distance. He sighed. “I’m sorry for what I said. I was mad and it was terrible to say. Please calm down?”
“No!” You roared, startling him. You were too heightened by now, bristling with distress from all sorts of directions. Doing the only thing he could think to do, he tackled forward, hoisting you over his shoulder and trying to ignore your yelling and thumping fists on his back as he marched you across the floor to your bed. He unceremoniously tipped you down, letting you bounce onto the mattress before catching your flailing hands in his again and pressing them into the sheets. 
“Now can you please calm down?” Chris tried again, and you thrashed in his grip. 
“No!” You yelled again. “I can’t believe you would just come here and try to pull this on me.”
“Pull what?” Chris fretted. “I’ve made myself more than clear this entire time. I’ve never played games, or let you believe that I feel one way and act against that.”
“Oh, excuse me for trying to remain professional!” You shouted as you tried to wrestle Chris off of you.
“What in the fuck has been professional about this?!” He asked, bewildered. 
“I’m doing my best, alright?!” You shot back, “It’s fucking complicated. You know exactly how I feel and what I'm having to deal with.”
“How would I know how you feel?! You won’t tell me anything! I’m not a fucking mind-reader, and I’m not about to just assume because look where the hell that got me.”
“Well, maybe fucking consider that admitting I love you would feel like creating a giant goddamn detour from what we’re both working for,” you blurted before you could catch the words falling out of your mouth. Your eyes bore into each other, watching, waiting, before he finally had enough and dove into you, his lips back on yours like he was coming home. 
“Say it again,” he urged against you. 
“Say what again,” you challenged, “I didn’t admit anything.” You wrenched a hand out of his grip and shoved it down between your bodies, pushing past where his rain-soaked shirt was sticking to your stomach where your hoodie had ridden up in your scuffle. He gave a yelp as you tried to clutch tight onto him between his legs. It was a dirty play, but you wanted nothing more than to not have to confront this right now. 
“What the fuck?” Chris groaned against your lips as he tried to pull out of your grasp, only succeeding in his foot slipping in your bedsheets and falling back into your hand wrapped around him in a vice. “I hate how much I missed you,” he spat at you, his tongue nonetheless mingling hot with yours at your insistence. 
“You can’t just get me to do what you want by strong-arming me,” you fired back, your grip on his cock through his jeans only getting worse as you began to massage his length. 
“Don’t distract me,” he panted, but it sounded more like a plea, “and I'm not trying to make you do anything.” Finally, he let out a thorough groan at your rubbing, reacting enough for his grip to falter on your other wrist. You took the opportunity to kick him off the bed and onto the floor before you pounced on him, your soft lounge shorts not doing much to protect you from his rigid length rubbing hard between your legs as you pinned him. His hands scrambled to stop you again as you kept him distracted, rolling your hips on top of his and hating how much you missed him, too. 
“It’s so easy for you,” you hissed as you grinded down against him, only letting his restrained moans fuel you more, “you can come here and profess your feelings for me, but I'm the one who’ll get heat for this if we try to make it happen and people know. You’re famous, Chris, and I'm just staff. Or at least I was. No matter what, I'll be some dumb girl, or some monster, who couldn't fucking help it, and either I took advantage of you, or I was too dumb to stop this, but no matter what I'll come out worse than you will. This can be a bump in the road for you but this is already ruining all my hard work.”
Chris finally bucked you off, getting up and grabbing your arm to drag you back to the bed. He easily tossed you back onto the mattress, slapping your hands away as he tried to regain control. It was almost gross, how good fighting like this felt for some reason, but seeing how bad he wanted you only pulled harder on that gut feeling you kept trying to shut up. 
“You know, plenty of people think we’re just fine. We’d have support,” he huffed as he pinned your hips to the bed. 
“Yeah,” you struggled to pry his fingers off of you, “but any amount of dissent is going to be enough to ensure I never get to do the work I want in this entire goddamn country.”
“Holy shit, you’re so stubborn,” he growled, exclaiming when you tried to shove your knee between the both of you to throw him off again. He kicked your ankles apart, settling between your legs. His jeans were rough against you where his hips met yours. 
“Do you hate it?” You challenged him. 
“Not at all,” he grinned spitefully, and you realized  his smirk matched your own, “in fact, I love it. Because, for some reason, instead of talking like rational people, you're fighting me pretty hard just to not say you don’t love me.”
“Right,” you tripped over your thoughts in an attempt to follow his new tactic, “but you’re the one who kissed me as soon as I opened the door, so who started it?” 
“Fine,” his wicked smile grew along with his confidence, “then tell me you don’t.” Chris rolled you both over, holding you up on his lap with both your wrists in one of his hands. “You’re on top. You've had no problem telling me how it is, so tell me you don’t love me and I’ll leave.”
“It’s not that easy,” you stumbled through your words as you tried to tug your wrists out of his hold. As you stilled, you gradually sank into him. 
“Why?” He asked as he let you sink further against his chest. 
“Because…” You bit at your lip, really thinking of how to go about this. The way he looked up into your eyes made your whole body ignite. His grip on your wrists loosened and you melted against him, your fingers weaving into his hair that was still damp, smelling of rain and sweat as you kissed his brow. “I feel like I’m giving everything up if I say it.”
“It’s not forever,” Chris reassured you as he closed his eyes to accept your lips on his face, “this isn’t a contract. It’s just one day at a time, or a week, or a month, or however long it can be. I want you, even just for a little bit.”
Your lips on his brow traveled down to his cheek, pressing a kiss there as well in a gesture you realized you rarely practiced. Finally, apprehensively, your lips hovered only moments apart from his, hanging in a loaded silence that was threatening to swallow you whole. “Fine,” you carefully announced, “I love you. I'm not sure when exactly it happened, but it did and I've been miserable over you.”
Chris’ grin cracked into a wide smile as he took your face in his hands again. “Oh, babygirl, I’ve been miserable, too,” he laughed as you teasingly swatted him for the name, the actual joy in his voice shooting straight through your heart as he kissed you again. “Say it again.”
“You got one, don’t get greedy,” you jokingly warned, gasping as he rolled you back over in bed. Chris’ hips pressed into yours as his lips traced the line of your cheek down to your neck. 
“I’m so greedy for it. Please say it again,” he asked against your skin, his breath tickling you and making you laugh. You finally made the decision to push him up from you and grabbing his jacket and pulling it off of him. He playfully cried out as you rolled him off of you and sat yourself back on his hips, taking it upon yourself to peel his wet shirt off of him, just as it was finally beginning to dry. “See? If you’re going to strip me then I deserve at least one more.”
“Make me,” you triumphantly laughed, letting out a pathetic squeak as he quickly tugged your hoodie off over your head. His eyes slowly roamed over you as his fingers played with the hem of your thin tank top underneath. The moment you moaned at the feel of his hand on your breast, that mischievous grin returned as he pinned you back to the bed once more. He let himself get distracted as you slipped off your tank top, his eyes searching you ravenously. Your hands quickly searched for the button of his jeans as he nuzzled and nipped at your breasts, a gasp jumping from him as you finally released his cock and began massaging his bare length in your hands. “Give up yet?” You coaxed him, jumping as he swiftly pulled off your lounge shorts along with your panties. 
“Not at all,” he smirked as he sat back. He kicked off his shoes and jeans and quickly stripped off his briefs before climbing back between your legs, only to be met with your foot pushing him back. You took in the sight of each other, finally fully exposed in the dim light of your tiny apartment. Your eyes pored over his bobbing Adam's apple, down to his heaving chest and following the lines of his abdomen down to his flushed and leaking erection. He looked incredible in this moment, and you let yourself finally feel like he was yours, even for just a little bit. “You’re asking for it,” he laughed, pulling you back to reality, “I’ll make you say it.” 
Before you could get another crack in, he leaned down, kissing your knee and ghosting his lips over your skin on his way up to cage you in his arms on the bed. “Fat chance--” you attempted to tease, the words caught in your throat as Chris’ firm cock prodded into your soaked entrance. His lips pressed to yours as he slowly slid inside you. You never realized how much you’d been yearning for this stretch again, to feel him filling you out as he held you. 
“Say it,” he breathed, that handsome flush that you’d noticed when he was aroused taking over his body and crawling up his chest to his neck and cheeks. “Say it or you're not getting anymore.”
“No no no,” you laughed desperately, “please, please give it to me.”
“I’m sorry, babygirl,” he smiled, “you're not getting any until you say it.”
“No, please,” you begged as you attempted to roll your hips onto his cock from under him. “Please please please.”
“That's really too bad,” he shrugged, “it would’ve been so good.”
“No no, please,” you pouted, “fuck me, please, I love you, fuck me.”
“There we go,” he groaned instantly as he immediately began thrusting deep into you, “was that so hard? Now try it when I say it.” He kissed you deep again, his hand trailing down to make sure you were spread wide for him as he fucked you. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” you said, breathless, loving the feeling of giving yourself in to this moment. Chris moaned on top of you, the way the walls of your pussy massaged his cock making him almost wince from the pleasure. It was so good, you managed to still push him over onto his back, your hot depths still impaled on his length as you began to ride him. You rolled your hips hard onto his, savoring his moans and repeated affirmations of affection made under his breath as he gripped the sheets. You guided him a bit more forwardly, leading one hand to your clit as you grinded down against his length. 
“Since when did you get back on top?” Chris laughed. In this light, you could see how blown out his pupils were, how drunk on you he was that he could barely keep up. “I think I should get to be on top at least once in our lives, don’t you?”
He pushed you back over, taking a moment to tease your nipples with his tongue before he pulled out of you, smiling devilishly at your whines before he moved further down the bed. His tongue nudged in between your legs and your fingers were instantly in his hair, your back arching as he expertly laved at you. 
“Remember the first time I made you cum?” Chris smiled, picking his head up from your pussy and pumping into you with his fingers. You nodded timidly, watching and waiting to see what he was up to as his thumb drew firm circles on your clit. “I don’t think I've gotten to cum with you once since that first night backstage, but ever since I got you to cum I've thought about doing this.”
“Doing what?” You asked. This feeling of giving up control to him was keeping you alert, the vulnerability making you feel like you were spread open for him in more ways than one. He licked deep between your legs once more before coming up for air again, his chin slick with you. 
“I thought you’d remember,” he teasingly pouted, “that first day I made you cum on my tongue, I said that even after you were done, we weren't finished until I did.” Before you could question him, he held tight onto your thighs, keeping you open so he could lick and nibble at your sensitive clit as he pumped his fingers back inside you. Your head pushed back into the pillow, your eyes squeezed shut from trying not to moan too loud as Chris worked you over. All you could do was squeal and curse under your breath, completely at his mercy as his tongue pushed you dangerously closer towards your orgasm. 
“Chris, slow down,” you meagerly begged. 
“I got you, don’t worry,” he soothed, “I love you. You’re going to cum, and I’ve missed it so much. Now say it again.”
And you did. “I love you.” It began as a hushed whisper, then progressed to desperate whines and moans. He had such an affectionate power over you that you would do anything he said. Finally, just like he said would happen, he held you down and licked you through it as you couldn’t hold back your near-scream, your thighs clenching as your orgasm rocked through your body. And, just like he said he would, he didn’t stop. Chris kept licking and fingering your spasming pussy and you could almost feel his proud smile against you until he finally relented. 
You gasped for breath as Chris climbed back on top of you, his thick length almost intimidating now as he pushed up against you. He pet your hair, caressing your flushed face as you took an agonizing time to come down. “You’re being so open with me,” he marveled quietly. 
You nodded shallowly, still attempting to catch your breath. “Of course,” you breathed, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he grinned, almost as if he still didn’t believe this was happening. In a way, neither did you, until his rigid cock slid back into your aching pussy. You cried out, your hands clutching onto his arms as you were heavily overstimulated. “I got you,” he reassured you again, kissing your face as he fucked you into the mattress, “it’s so good.” He sighed into the crook of your neck, his hips rolling deep into yours. 
“It’s too much,” you whined desperately. 
“No no no, baby, you’re taking it so well,” he soothed, gently rolling you both over so you were perched on his hips once again. From this angle he was somehow even deeper inside you, filling out every inch of you that you didn’t even realize could be. “There,” he soothed, still easily bouncing you on his cock, “you have more control now.”
And, somehow, that move and remark put together made the overstimulation go from near-pain to near-bliss. In fact, in a bizarrely rare turn of events, you felt another orgasm mounting. Chris’ eyes lit up as you thrust along with him. “How close are you?” You asked, your nails beginning to dig into the lines of his chest as your momentum built. 
“Soon, baby, soon,” he struggled, moaning and squeezing his eyes shut as he clutched tight onto your hips, “you’re going to make me cum so hard.”
“Good,” you desperately panted, “me, too.”
Chris’ eyes snapped open, “You’re what?”
“I’m going to cum again,” you whined, trying to match his faster rhythm. 
“Holy shit, I love you,” he smiled, “cum with me.”
You both settled into this faster rhythm, trying to keep up with each other as you both neared your peaks. Chris slowed just the smallest bit, his breath hitching and steadying again as he tried to make sure you would cum together. He listened close for the changes in your sighs and moans, the twinges of your fingers on his skin giving him hints of when you were getting closer. You gasped as he pulled you down to wrap his arms around you, his lips finding yours as you both grew even nearer. 
“Now,” he breathed against you as he felt your walls clench around him, “cum with me now, I’m gonna--!” Chris threw his head back in the pillow, letting out a deep groan as he thrust his orgasm up inside you and savoring your impassioned moans as you came along with him. He held you tight to him, his hands running up your back and into your hair to caress your face as he kissed you through his peak, breathless as his cum flowed into you. 
The air of your tiny apartment was electric as you laid together in your bed, tangled in each other, as well as the bedsheets and your discarded clothes. You rolled off him and laid at his side, keeping a hand pressed to his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. Wordlessly, he turned to face you, closing his eyes and grabbing for one of your shuffled blankets. He pulled it up over you both before taking your hand, pulling you to his chest as you both recovered. 
 And you woke up like that. It really was that easy. The two of you had fallen asleep basking in this liberating glow of letting yourselves have what you both wanted, and now you were waking up to the sun already streaming in through the blinds. Your apartment suddenly felt homier, almost like when you first moved in. You looked over Chris’ face, still just as close to yours as when he drifted off to sleep, studying to see how asleep he truly was. Skipping the sweetness, you pinched his nose. 
“No,” he shook his head as he pulled you closer, “I'm sleeping.”
“You’re awake,” you smiled as you grabbed your phone off the bedside, “and I'm ordering breakfast.”
“Oh thank god,” he murmured as he willed you to fall back asleep in his arms. 
“Was last night good?” You softly asked, unable to fight off the smile on your face as your eyes were still waking up. Chris turned his head more into the pillow in an attempt to stay asleep as long as possible. He lazily nodded. 
“So good. About time, too,” he grumbled with the faintest ghost of a laugh. 
“I never asked,” you said quietly, stroking his hair as you breathed him in, “how did you find my apartment?”
“Hyunjae wanted to talk to you about the job thing but she’s too proud to not fight with herself about it. I convinced her that it was her idea to try and find you at your graduation, and when she chickened out of that, she sat parked in the company car in front of your building for like… I want to say twenty minutes. I almost dragged her up here myself.”
“She wanted to talk?”
“She did,” Chris nodded, finally giving in and opening his eyes. He sat up in your bed and stretched as he rested his head back against the wall. “I don’t know what to tell you. She really was talking to her friend in L.A. last night.”
You dragged each other out of bed, at least enough to each put on at least some form of clothing as you prepared some coffee. He watched intently as you slipped on your bathrobe, but he got distracted by all the parts of your apartment you never really considered before -- the framed pictures, the books, the way you organized your desk. Suddenly, his attention in you and your space made you take a second to remember how lost you'd been feeling lately, if maybe it was just a symptom of something less sinister than mediocrity. 
“What now, you think?” Chris finally asked you. You set a cup of coffee in his hands, trying to focus on this moment so you’d always remember it: Chris, in only his underwear, hair a mess and drinking a cup of coffee while bundled up in your bed. 
“It depends,” you ruminated, “how long can you last?”
“Me? As long as you want, I guess,” he half-shrugged, “as long as we want, really. I just want you to be happy. I'll be happy knowing you’re happy.”
You held back as you considered all the factors at hand, not wanting to let yourself get distracted by getting nearer to him right now. “What if… What if L.A. makes me happy, but you do, too?”
“Then pick L.A… and me, too, if you’d like. You don’t have to stick with one thing -- or two things -- forever. I'll be happy even having you for a little bit, remember?”
“It won’t be easy,” you warned. 
“Has any of this been easy?” He laughed and you had to agree. You nodded, finally giving yourself permission to draw closer and get swept up in him again when the buzzer on your door sounded. 
“Hyunjae!” Chris scrambled, setting his cup of coffee on your bedside and lunging for his jeans, “Holy shit, she probably tore the city apart looking for me.”
“Not Hyunjae. Food,” you gently reminded him, and he let out a gigantic sigh before collapsing back on your bed. You opened the door. 
Hyunjae. 
“Unnie,” you dumbly greeted, and you heard Chris thunk onto the floor behind you as he frantically reached for his jeans again.
“Little sister,” she awkwardly greeted in return, “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Bang Chan.”
“Noona,” Chris nodded in her direction from behind you, still shirtless and horrified as he made a measly excuse to use your bathroom.  
You straightened up as Hyunjae looked you up and down, as well as Chris as he scampered out of her line of vision. This was your home, and you felt like you were on a little better footing against Hyunjae after that night at her apartment. “I guess I couldn’t help it,” you smiled demurely. 
“I’m sorry--” Hyunjae blurted. She tried again. “I’m sorry, little sister… I realized I’ve been too hard on you. As a supervisor, as a mentor… And maybe even as a friend. I was unfair to you. I'm not very good at this, so…” She slipped an envelope from her purse and into your hands. “You write well, but we already know that, and I made some grammatical revisions, and we both already know that as well. This is just a copy, of course. I already sent the original to a friend in L.A. who’s looking forward to hearing from you.”
“I know,” you replied confidently, excitement brimming under the surface, especially as Hyunjae uncharacteristically had a hard time maintaining eye contact with you. 
“I'm proud of you, little sister,” she finally said, and she nearly took a step back as you gently took her hand in yours. 
“Thank you, unnie. I appreciate that.”
Chris cautiously exited your bathroom, fully dressed in last night’s clothes. He looked back and forth between you and Hyunjae, trying to decipher how civil things were at the moment. “I’ll -- should we…? I could --”
“You'll call me,” you smiled reassuringly as you smoothed out his rumpled shirt, “and I'm going to make a phone call of my own, and in a few days you're going to help me pack, and a few nights after that you're going to take me out before I leave.”
“Yes,” Chris beamed at you, “that. All that.”
Hyunjae modestly looked away and began heading back downstairs as you insisted on kissing Chris goodbye, and you waved him off, feeling a weight lifting off your shoulders to a point that you could swear you were floating. You were capable, and for the first time, you believed it. 
Standby: An Epilogue
All these credentials, and you were suddenly a glorified intern. You fumed at whichever idiot’s bright idea it was to transform all your production assistants into liaison staff for groups and their management teams for an event like this. Nevermind that only a fraction of your team were bilingual, but only a smaller fraction were bilingual in a way that actually mattered in an event like this. That meant hiring translators, and that meant hiring temp teamsters to serve in place of your production staff, and that meant no one was prepping green rooms. Your actual staff was out fetching coffee and finding emergency hair products, so you were left grabbing groups for standby for various events of the day. You were walk/jogging to your next green room when your phone buzzed with a text. 
>>It was an absolute disaster at the hotel this morning, hope you’re having better luck out there. 
You smiled at Chris’ text, despite the stress coursing through you. Making it work like this had been hard for the past year, but predicting that and doing your best to roll with it had been helpful. 
>Disaster out here, too. Can’t we just skip to tonight?
>>Sorry, babygirl, I know you're just dying without me. 
>Stop that. I'm just looking out for you and your blue balls. 
You allowed yourself a relieved giggle at your text exchange before your earpiece crackled. 
“Green Room 4 for standby, banquet hall B.”
You clicked the chirp on your receiver twice, letting the channel know you were on your way. 
“Already got Room 4,” someone else came through. You paused in the service hallway you were currently occupying. 
“Partial 4,” a different director corrected. You clicked the chirp twice again, jogging down the hall in your regrettably inappropriate skirt and heels for this type of work before you rapped at the green room door. When no answer came, you flipped through your keys for the green room skeleton key and got the door open, gasping and quickly clapping a hand over your eyes before meekly apologizing as you turned back to face the hallway. 
“Sorry!” You called over your shoulder, “Final call for standby.”
A surprised chuckle came from behind you, instantly melting your heart before you even turned around. There was Chris, his face an incriminating shade of red where he sat at the vanity. “Babygirl,” Chris let out a relieved laugh with a smile, “I’m in a bind. Can you help me?”
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bakugou-tm · 5 years ago
Text
Fall Feels
@bnha-halloween2019 | Day 3 & 5: Thunder Storm/Pumpkin Patch | Bakugou x Reader | Teen | Cursing
Hello there, I finally have got all my drafts down for the Halloween Writing Challenges :’) So since I’m late and very busy, I won’t be able to get to every single day so I’m just going to combine a few days and make longer fics to make up for it. Quality over quantity am I right? (and I’m just a lazy busy ass) Anyways here’s some fluffy fluff fluff for my first submission, enjoy!
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Honestly this place was Bakugou’s worst nightmare.
Children running around screaming and fighting over which pumpkin is their’s, pumpkins large and small littered all over the floor with little to no room at all to even walk, sweltering heat that would barely be classified as offering “shade” to those at the patch.
And worst of all, parents forcing their children to wear shitty costumes and take pictures on the uncomfortable pumpkins. He would never forget the years of torture his mother put him through just to get a cute picture for her design company, honestly he thought she only did it to piss him off.
Which it did. A lot.
And yet here the ash blond was, standing before the large tent along with his so called friends and girlfriend by his side. Just in case you were wondering, it wasn’t his idea. And surprisingly it wasn’t his friend’s idea either.
It was yours. For some reason you were dead set on going to one of these shitty patches to pick a pumpkin out for your dorm. Why you were so determined on getting one of these rather odd shaped fruits for your room, he didn’t know. 
After his friends begging him literally all day to go, it only made him want to decline the offer even more. But when you got him alone and gave him that stupid adorable face you always flaunt when you want something, he knew he was fucked.
So begrudgingly he tried to hide his disgust, not very well at that, and stood by your side as your eyes lit up at the sight like a child at a candy store.
“Katsuki look at all the pumpkins!” You squealed with a wide grin quickly bending down to pick up a pumpkin that was almost the size of you, which showed as you shakily got it to rest against your legs before showing it off to the Bakusquad, “Aren’t they awesome!”
The rest of Bakugou’s friends seemed way more interested than he did, marveling at the pumpkin in your hand while Kirishima picked it up from your shaking hold.
“You might want to look for one more your size (L/n).” Kirishima chuckled as you let out a slight pant of relief once the heavy pumpkin was out of your hands.
“Go.. go big or go home am I right?” You said in between heavy breaths with a grin, most of your friends laughing except for Bakugou who clicked his tongue.
Walking beside you with folded arms, the grumpy boy scanned the perimeter of the tent with unimpressed eyes, “Just pick out a damn pumpkin already before you get fucking scoliosis.”
Looking over to your boyfriend you snuck a quick kiss to his cheek, giggling slightly at his startled expression, “Don’t rush me Katsu, I’ll just take even longer~”
Bakugou glowered down to you, ready to let a string of curses come out until a bright flash was seen from above. It only took seconds for the horrendous boom to come after, shaking the ground aggressively as the rain followed suit.
Your hand immediately found its way into your boyfriend’s at the startling sound, even Bakugou glancing up at the sudden change in mood.
For a second he almost felt a surge of excitement, this meant he could go home right? But then other sounds filled his ears that made him want to blow up the planet.
Children crying, adults shouting, loud wind and rain just adding to the new chaos of the situation.
Bakugou’s friends all let out annoyed groans, the six of you moving under the tent so not to get drenched by the heavy downpour.
“Talk about bad timing for a storm to show up.” Kaminari groaned with folded arms, the group nodding in agreement as they brought up what they should do next.
The ash blond couldn’t be more annoyed, the weather couldn’t hold out for five more seconds? Now he had to come back another fucking time so you could pick out a damn pumpkin, this was supposed to be a one time deal!
Though he remained silent, it was clear Bakugou’s mind was screaming profanities as he glared at the heavy rain, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
He hadn’t realized he was spacing out until he felt two nudges at his side, vermillion eyes glaring over to see Kirishima looking at him with a concerned expression.
“(L/n) okay? She doesn’t look too good bro.”
Bakugou raised a brow, glancing down over to you. Immedietly he noticed how closed off your body language had become. (H/c) locks covering most of your face, arms wrapped around your torso, lower lip just barely lowered in a small pout, and were your eyes getting glossier?
There’s no way you would cry over this, right? He knew you really wanted to come here but it wasn’t the end of the world?
“Sorry about the weather (L/n)-chan it’s a real bummer, maybe we can do this next year!” Mina said with a reassuring grin, your eyes snapping up to her own as you noticed all eyes on you now.
Quickly fixing your posture, you forced the corners of your lips to raise up and nodded, “It’s okay guys don’t worry about it! I only wanted to go because this place reminds me of home..”
Shit. That’s why you were so excited to come here. Bakugou forgot how seriously your country took these holidays, doing these small things must’ve made you feel a little more at home.
“My entire family would always come to this pumpkin patch, and we would take picture then me and all my cousins would pick out a pumpkin and have a carving contest when we got home,” You explained with a small smile, not being able to help it as your eyes sunk to the floor, “I guess recently I’ve been feeling a little homesick, I was hoping this would help bring some happy memories back.”
Now Bakugou really felt like a piece of shit. He had been such an asshole the entire way here thinking you were acting like a two year old, when really you just missed your family.
Your relationship was still a few months new, so he wasn’t used to sharing feelings and actually thinking about how you felt. It was something that he always beat himself up over in the back of his mind, but his stubbornness and pride often got in the way of it.
But he would be damned if he just watched you feel this way for the entire rest of the year. He was your boyfriend, it was his job to keep you happy. And he would really be damned if he wasn’t the best fucking boyfriend you’ve ever had, hopefully the only one you’ll ever have.
His eyes flicked over to the plastic table at other side of the tent, seeing the associate start to pack his box of money and signs. This wasn’t going to do.
“Don’t you dare fucking close this place up,” Bakugou yelled from across the tent, startling the young man as he looked over to see the six of you still there, “It’s nowhere near closing time buddy.”
Your head perked up at the sound of this, not only you but the rest of his friends looking at the ash blond confused as he snatched your hand into his own. You blinked owlishly at him as his vermillion orbs landed on your own, softening slightly as he took your features in.
“We aren’t leaving here until we find the best fucking pumpkin.”
At this your friends all cheered, a warm smile spreading across your cheeks as you squeezed his hand excitedly, “Thank you Bakugou.”
Bakugou would be lying if he said his heart didn’t do a flip as he saw that beautiful smile flash across your lips, but he also would never admit that in his entire life.
So instead he walked in front of you and tugged you along through the patch of pumpkins with a scowl on his face.
“Whatever, just pick a damn pumpkin out already!”
This is why you loved the ash blond so much, he was such a wild card. Some days he made you want to slap him senseless, but in the end he always made sure your heart was on cloud nine. He even managed to turn this horrible situation into a good one.
Even when you first started dating, you had a small feeling he had a heart deep down in that prideful body of his. People warned you, even a few teachers did, but you saw the light in him. If their wasn’t a light, why would he want to be a hero after all?
Bakugou was simply a normal misunderstood teenage boy in your eyes, one capable of love and being human. Yes he did work harder than the average person, and he was insanely prideful, and sometimes he could be an asshole. But he had a heart, and you intended on digging it out so other people could see what you see in him.
The loud snapping of your boyfriend brought you back to reality as you glanced down at the pumpkins. You might as well try to find one as soon as possible so the poor sales guy could go home.
Back at home you always went for the smaller pumpkins, they were just so cute how could you not? All of your cousins and yourself were able to pick out one large pumpkin for carving, and another pumpkin of any size for your room.
Since you obviously couldn’t fit any obnoxious ones in your small dorm, you figured you should pick out a decent sized one that could fit on your desk.
Meanwhile, Bakugou watched as you somehow gracefully maneuvered through the rows and rows of pumpkins. He figured you must’ve been used to walking through them from back home. 
It wasn’t until he watched you dance through the pumpkins that he realized just how cute you looked today. He begrudgingly noticed that you were wearing one of his shirts. Half of him didn’t mind too much, part because seeing you in one of his shirts made him swell with pride, the other part admiring how well you put the outfit together.
You had tucked in the front of the plaid shirt, which was oversized on you, while leaving the back end of the shirt out giving it a loose simple look. The colors went well with your high waisted jeans and of course those stupid boots you always had to wear during the fall season.
Even as you bent down to examine the pumpkins, you were just so naturally beautiful. Your (e/c) eyes narrowed carefully, soft lips pursed together in concentration, silky locks cascading down your shoulders. It almost pissed him off how imperfectly perfect you were.
Quickly shaking his head, the ash blond muttered a curse to himself. He needed to get out of his damn head, you were making him too fucking sappy.
Glancing around at the pumpkins around him, Bakugou chuckled slightly at the sight a of a rather awkward pumpkin. The stem was practically chopped off, probably kicked or torn off by some bratty child. One side was distinctly higher than the other, making the lumpy object look deformed.
Grinning deviously, the ash blond tugged the pumpkin in his arms before calling your name, his grin growing wider once you made eye contact with him.
“Hey (S/o), this looks like your ass!”
Why you had any thought in your mind that perhaps your boyfriend was trying to help you, you had no idea. As soon as your eyes fell on the rather depressing pumpkin, your lips puckered out into an annoyed pout, your eyes following suit with a sharp glare.
This earned a loud snort from Bakugou, the ash blond finding your change in mood apparently hilarious.
“Oh I’ll show you funny...” You grumbled, glaring at the ground until you noticed the patch of squash a few rows down. Grinning you quickly grabbed a smaller one and whipped your head back to your laughing boyfriend with a smirk.
“Hey Katsuki~” You purred, successfully gaining his attention causing you to sneer before you held up the pathetic squash, “This one looks like your dick, asshole.”
Bakugou’s once wide grin fell into an expression of shock before a scowl came across his lips as you bursted into laughter. For someone so aggressive, he sure was sensitive.
That’s one of the reasons Bakugou came to like you. Even though you were kind and gentle, you were also confident and didn’t take shit from anyone. Any normal girl, except for maybe Mina, wouldn’t be caught dead saying something like that to him. Yet here you were, making fun of his package, inaccurately at that.
“Oh you think you’re funny you little shit?” Bakugou hissed, storming his way over to you as you continued your obnoxious laughter.
Grinning over to him you slowly stopped your laughing, pretending to wipe a fake tear from your eye as he neared you.
“Oh I think I’m hilarious babe, don’t you think-”
Your words were cut off from being lifted into Bakugou’s arms, a yelp escaping your lips as you held onto his neck tightly and blinked down to him.
“Bakugou? What are you doing? Why are you getting closer to the tent?” 
The onslaught of questions seemed to go in one ear and out the other as you both neared the edge of the tent that was barely protecting you from the pounding rain.
“Katsuki! I swear you better not do this!” You shrieked, holding a vice grip on your boyfriend as you felt light pelts of water brush against your face, “Katsuki don’t-”
You couldn’t finish your sentence before cool water began to soak against your back and side, a shrill scream escaping your lips as you tried to hide your face in Bakugou’s hair.
If you thought Bakugou’s laugh was loud before, this would’ve been a howl of laughter then. Somehow he thought you getting drenched was funny.
But if he was going to play that game? You were going to then.
Gritting your teeth you lifted your leg that was behind his torso and kicked it against he back of his knee, causing his legs to buckle forward as he stumbled outside the tent with your drenched body.
Bakugou attempted to drop you but you held onto him like your life depended on it, keeping him out in the rain so you could both be soaked to death.
“(S/o) you little shit!” Bakugou growled as he ducked his head low, your giggles filling the air as you ran your fingers through his now damp locks.
“What? Don’t like getting wet pretty boy?” You questioned with a grin, placing a few kisses on his cheek while he glared up to you.
Initially the ash blond was mad, not wanting to get a genuine denim jacket wet, but with you looking down at him with so much joy... how could he be mad?
Even for a minute you though Bakugou was mad with you, but soon his glare softened, his vermillion eyes narrowing playfully at you as he grabbed your chin and pressed his lips against your own. Whenever he was like this with you, nothing in the world mattered at all. Not his friends, not the pouring rain, nothing. Just you and him.
Smiling through the kiss you held on to the back of his head and moved in close to him, welcoming the drops of rain falling from your now soaked hair.
And even as much as you didn’t want this moment to end, you knew for your friend’s sake and the poor sales associate’s sake, you should probably pick your pumpkin out so you could continue this at home.
Pulling away from him was a slight challenge, his head following your fading lips until your head was away from his own, causing his eyes to open while he scowled at you.
“The hell did you stop for?” Bakugou growled lowly, but stopped when he noticed your eyes weren’t on his own. Your (e/c) gaze was narrowed at something behind him, examining something. Raising an eyebrow, he opened his mouth to ask but you scrambled out of his arms before he could get the chance.
Quickly Bakugou made his way back under the tent, shaking his head out to get at least the dripping water from his locks before looking over to you.
Your soaked form was bent over some pumpkin, holding it close to yourself before you spun around and looked to him with a grin, “I found the perfect pumpkin!”
Bakugou nodded slowly as if taking everything that just happened in before walking beside you to see what this magical pumpkin looked like.
And to his surprise, it was white. Not orange like the normal pumpkins, just a light cream color with a curly stem.
“The hell do you want that one for?”
Smiling softly you stood up with the pumpkin in your arms, brushing the wet strands of hair out of your face before looking up to Bakugou.
“Because it reminds me of you.”
For a second, just a second, Bakugou didn’t understand. Were you still making fun of him? But then it clicked. The pumpkin had the same color tone as his ash blond hair. Only you would correlate such a stupid thing, only you would take something so meaningless and make it special.
And yet Bakugou felt his face getting hotter by the second. He wasn’t even sure if it was the way you were looking at him or the words you spoke, but there was no way in hell he was going to let you see him blush.
Without hesitation the ash blond snatched you into a hug, holding you close against him so you couldn’t try to get away.
“Why the fuck are you so sappy shitty girl?” Bakugou grumbled, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before glancing the other way so his friends on the other side of the tent wouldn’t see his rosy cheeks, “You watchin too much of those fucking Hallmark movies?”
The sound of your giggling filled his ears, making his heart warm as your voice vibrated against his chest softly,
“Maaayyybbbeee.” You cooed with a goofy grin as you squeezed your face from his grasp to rest your chin on his chest so you could look up at him with that adorable expression of yours, “I can’t help it! They make my heart squeeze!”
Bakugou couldn’t help but smile at this, a small ‘tch’ escaping his lips as he grabbed the pumpkin from your grasp and tugged you along to the check out table.
“Yeah yeah heart squeeze, let’s get your sappy ass home.” 
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moonstone-blues · 4 years ago
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A Spark By The River - Chapter 7: Kellogg
"Can you hear me?"
The area was now light. River looked around, examining her surroundings. It was so… unreal. She tried to find her body only to see nothing.
"Loud and clear." River replied though without a mouth to speak, her voice sounded like more of an echo that startled herself once she spoke. Also… 
She sounded like Kellogg.
It nearly knocked her sick hearing that murderer's voice come out of what would've been her mouth. She decided straight away to not dare speak another syllable. 
Amari's voice brought them back to the task at hand. 
"Ah, good. The simulation appears to be working. I'll try to step you through any intact memories, and hope we find one that gives us some clue to the Institute's location."
River soon saw some sort of bridge appear on the ground ahead of her. She looked at it, confused, before she began to follow the path it made. It was a nauseating feeling, both being nothing but being something balancing at the same time. She didn't feel the path beneath her but she didn't feel like she would fall if she moved in the wrong direction. 
As interesting as this was, she couldn't wait to get out. 
Suddenly a scene appeared in front of her. 
"...There. this is the earliest intact memory I can find." Amari's voice echoed.
River cautiously stepped into the memory, ready for anything.
"Remember, you are experiencing these memories as Kellogg. This may prove disorienting at first."
A young boy was sitting on a bed, a woman beside him. There was pounding and yelling coming from a door. The young boy almost seemed frightened at the sound but he was clearly trying his best to act unbothered. The woman was the opposite, seeming to fret and jump with each loud BANG. 
River moved towards the woman, getting a closer look. He had a black eye and a busted lip. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together…
As River leaned closer, the voice of Kellogg boomed as the memory froze.
“Mom knew how it was. She wasn’t soft but she loved me in her way.”
So that boy was Kellogg. For a moment, River had assumed the screaming man was him.
“And she protected me from dad. That cost her more than a few beatings.”
River stepped back. In shock. The memory continued. She could already tell the husband was abusive but to protect Kellogg… She was a hell of a mother.
River heard a distant door slam shut.
The woman looked in the door’s direction before she spoke. “Listen to me, Connie. You take this. You’re old enough.” 
She pulled out a gun. One that River had no trouble identifying as the one she had picked up in Fort Hagen. The child grabbed the gun, looking at it with innocence.
“You’re the man of the family now. It’s your job to protect us. Your father’s useless. But you won’t turn out like him. You’re a good boy.”
River looked down as they continued to talk. He did seem like a sweet kid. The abuse couldn’t be the reason why he turned out the way he did. And his poor mother… River couldn’t image how she’d feel if Shaun had grown up to be some sort of… monster like Kellogg.
Amari’s voice came through. "This doesn't seem to be what we're looking for." The memory seemed to freeze in place. "There appears to be another intact memory close to you in temporal sequence... there."
Another memory appeared a little further away. River tried to make it out from where she was.
"Try that one."
She looked back at the scene she was standing in. As much as she hated Kellogg, she could understand a little about how he got to being such a violent man. River thought back to how her mother would teach her about the human mind. A cycle of violence was natural. But not a sole reason. There was more.
River approached the next memory, still feeling incredibly strange as she traversed between them, and stepped inside. There, Kellogg stood, a grown man. He was cooking what looked to be so radroach meat. Beside him was a woman, doing dishes.
“It’s gonna be fine. You’ll see.”
“But we don’t know anybody here, and now with the baby…”
Wait, baby?
River turned to see a crib in the room. She cautiously approached it. Inside was a healthy looking baby. River was confused. Kellogg’s voice shone some light on the situation.
“Whatever made me think a guy like me should have a daughter… I never deserved her. Not for one second.”
This was Kellogg’s baby. She looked so peaceful… It seemed Kellogg cared about her. Where was she now? Kellogg looked younger than he did when they met. At least twenty years. 
She looked around the fractured building. It was just a regular looking home. A regular family… A partner and child… and he threw it all away for what, the Institute?!
The baby started crying. River turned around, instantly wanting to take care of it. 
“It’s okay, I got it.”
Kellogg walked through River to the crib. She turned to see the woman staring at Kellogg with such a loving expression. This still didn’t explain anything.
"Let's keep looking... I'll connect you to the next intact memory."
River hesitated before moving on, still perplexed. Everything seemed like it got a hell of a lot better. How did Kellogg end up being who he was?
Unfortunately, River soon got her answer. She entered the next memory. It was a very narrow corridor. Kellogg was armed to the teeth, tears in his eyes as he began to walk down, River following him. A voice blared down an intercom.
“How did you think this was going to end, Kellogg?” The voice let out a menacing chuckle. “You thought you could fuck with us, and we wouldn’t fuck with you? Just so you know - They died like dogs. And you weren’t there to help them.”
River stopped in her tracks. Kellogg quickly reloaded his weapon before kicking open a door, screaming and opening fire on whoever was on the other side.
That was it.
River stood there as the memory soon froze. His partner and child. They killed them. That woman was so full of life and the way she looked at Kellogg with such love… And the baby. Oh, God. They killed a baby.
“I’ve found another memory to try. I’ll connect you.”
Amari’s voice brought River back. She begrudgingly moved on, not even paying attention to the next memory. It didn’t have answers, it didn’t matter. The next did feature the Institute, but only an initiation. No answers in that memory either.
Eventually, River came to the next one. She didn’t pay much attention to this one either. But that soon changed when she heard some very familiar sirens. She looked up. 
“Manual override initiated. Cryogenic stasis suspended.” 
River walked right through them. She didn’t care about them. None of them. She looked across each pod. Her friends and neighbours all looked around, confused and scared. She eventually stopped outside Jack’s pod, facing it. He was there, looking around frantically. He was already moving around, holding Shaun against his chest.
“I’m glad I didn’t have to kill the kid. I’m not saying I haven’t done it, but I never like to. But it was better this way. Better than taking his kid and leaving him alive.”
River immediately turned to look at this memory’s version of Kellogg. What the hell was he thinking?! Killing him was better than leaving him alive?! Did the idiot not realise that’s what he put her through?!
River thought. No, he didn't believe that. If he did, he would've killed her too. That was just an excuse so that he didn't feel awful about tearing apart a family like what was done to him. 
He was just as bad. 
Kellogg walked towards her. For a moment, it seemed like he was staring right at River, despite her not having a form here. She would shiver if she could. 
"This is the one, here." The figure, she now knew to be an Institute scientist, declared. 
River backed up, knowing fully well what was about to happen. She couldn't see it again. But she couldn't help but watch as the pod opened. Jack coughed and sputtered as he shielded Shaun from the cold. 
River stood, terrified. The same scene playing out again. 
"I'm not letting you take Shaun!"
River finally came up with the strength to turn away just in time to hear the loud BANG of the gun.  She knew she couldn’t do anything but it still… hurt. She looked up, meeting eyes with a screaming woman in the opposite pod. Herself.  She approached the pod and stared through the glass. The memory of herself pounded on the glass, River hadn't even realised her hands were bleeding slightly from scratching them against the ice. She remembered wondering where the pain came from after she went back to Sanctuary. 
Kellogg's echoey voice then spoke with a tone of hatred and regret.
"I knew it was a mistake keeping her alive."
God. Damn. Right. 
"I understood that kind of revenge, no one better. But I was cocky enough to assume I could handle some pre war Vault dweller, even if she somehow thawed out."
River would've cringed if she could. That bastard thought she was weak. Well now he was dead and she wasn't. 
"At least I know those Institute bastards will soon get what’s coming to them, too. If she could take me out, they won’t be able to hide from her for long..."
Amari sighed, guilt clearly present in her voice as the memory froze. "I'm uh... I'm sorry you had to go through that again. I've found another intact memory. Whenever you're ready."
River made her way to the next memory. She was only a few feet away when Amari spoke once more. 
"Is that... your son?"
River looked ahead, barely making out a figure sitting on the floor. She moved as quickly as possible, practically diving into this new memory.
"This appears to be a very recent memory, so... good news... I think."
River watched the child. He sat there, a smile on his face, a prominent single dimple appearing. He flicked through a comic, River instantly recognising to be of the Silver Shroud. She lowered herself to the child's face, trying to get a closer look at him. He had platinum blonde hair with Amber eyes, much like River. Face wise, he looked almost exactly like Jack did when he was a child. He even had a faint scar on his forehead, starting from above his ear to above his eyebrow.
It was him.
It was Shaun.
"It was one of the old man's pet projects." River heard a voice echo.
She looked up to see Kellogg sitting down in a chair, watching Shaun with a smile. 
River couldn't believe it. The Institute was using him as some sick science fair project!? He was a human being for God's sake; a child!
"Me and the kid, like a happy little family. I ended up kind of liking it. A reminder of what my life might have been if things had turned out differently.”
How dare he. How dare he act like he’s Shaun’s father. 
River turned her attention back to Shaun. He looked healthy. This was definitely the boy Ellie had mentioned being with Kellogg. He looked around ten years old, matching the description. So River didn't immediately thaw out like she thought. It took ten years. 
She had missed so much of his life… 
The door opening alerted River as she and Shaun turned around. A man wearing a long, black, leather coat with dark sunglasses entered with Kellogg immediately aimed his gun. Upon recognising the figure, he holstered his weapon. 
“Kellogg.” The mysterious figure spoke.
Shaun backed up a little, looking at Kellogg to which the man held out his arm, settling the boy down.
“It’s okay.” He softly said. He returned to his cold demeanor as he glared at the figure. “One of these days you’re going to get your head blown off, just barging in here like that.”
River moved towards the figure, looking him up and down. He was so clean and his clothes were nothing less than pristine.
Kellogg’s voice was ‘kind’ enough to tell her more. “The new breed of synths could easily pass as human. Some of them did. But the Coursers - they weren’t built to blend in. They were killing machines, pure and simple.”
River backed up as the figure walked past. A Courser? She’d have to ask Nick more about them.
The Courser approached Kellogg. Shaun stared in confusion. “New orders for you. One of our scientists has left the Institute.”
“Left as in…?”
“He’s gone rogue.” The Courser spoke plainly. “Name’s Doctor Brian Virgil. We know he’s hiding somewhere in the glowing sea. Here’s his file.”
The Courser pulled a file from his coat, handing it to Kellogg who opened it with intrigue.
“Capture and return or just elimination?” He asked, skimming the page for important information.
“Elimination.”
River looked back to Shaun. The two men were talking about hunting down and killing a man. But he sat there, continuing to read his comic with an innocent expression.
“So… I guess you’re taking the kid back with you.”
Kellogg’s voice alerted River. She turned around to look at the two men. The Courser nodded.
“Affirmative. Your only mission is to locate and eliminate Virgil.”
No… they couldn’t take him away!
"So... you're taking me back to Father?" Shaun spoke, looking at Courser.
River froze. ‘Father’? Who dared pose as his father while Jack was…
“Yes. Stand next to me and hold still.” The Courser simply replied.
“Okay!” Shaun gleefully said, practically jumping to his feet. He ran to Kellogg, hugging the man.
“Bye, Mr Kellogg! I hope I’ll see you again soon!”
“Um… bye.”
Kellogg stood there in disbelief, as did River. She wanted to do something, anything to get him away. He didn’t know what that monster had done!
Shaun then ran to the Courser, beaming up at him. He could hardly contain his excitement.
“X6-88, ready to relay with Shaun.”
There was a moment of silence before electricity sparked violently twice, first taking the Courser, then taking Shaun. River tried desperately to touch the electricity but her efforts were futile. 
They were gone. 
The memory faded and Amari spoke for the final time.
"Teleportation. Now it all makes sense. Nobody's found the entrance to the Institute because there IS no entrance. Let me pull you out of there. As soon as you're ready..."
River heard the loud, screeching sound of static and she turned around, seeing the television blaring with an error message. She slowly walked towards the television, about to touch it… before blacking out again.
River's eyes snapped open. She gasped for breath, quickly climbing out of the lounger, wanting nothing more than to go. Amari grabbed her arms, trying to stop her.
"Slow movements, okay? I don't know what kind of side effects the procedure might have had. No one's ever... done this before."After seeing River calm down a little, Amari slowly let go of her. She helped River out of the pod before examining her for any sign of damage. "How do you feel?"
River groaned in pain, putting a hand on her head. "I have this... burning feeling inside my skull. It's like it's on fire."
"I injected you with a large stimpak as I was pulling you out. That should ease things for now." Amari stated.
"So it's going to feel worse?" River asked, cringing. 
"I'm sure it isn't a long term side effect." Amari tried to assure her. She pointed her finger towards River. "Follow my finger."
River did as she was asked, having only minor trouble with the dizziness from the extraction. 
"What is your name? Spell it please."
"R. I. V. E. R   M. C. C. O. N. N. E. L. L." She slowly yet clearly responded. 
Amari nodded slowly. "It seems like you're still functioning in the brain."
"I feel fine." River told her. "There's more important things to think about. We know how the Institute get around."
Amari smiled, triumphant. "Yes! Their greatest secret has finally been revealed... But that only leads to more questions.” She held her chin in one hand as she contemplated. “How does it work? Where do we go next?"
River thought for a moment before an idea came into her head. "That scientist Kellogg was supposed to track down! Virgil... We need to find him."
Amari snapped her fingers. "You're right! A rogue Institute scientist could answer all kinds of questions. Where did the memory say he was?" 
"The… Glowing Sea?" River said, thinking back on what she heard. 
Amari stared, wide eyed. "The Glowing Sea?" After receiving a nod, Amari looked away, puzzled. “That doesn't make sense... No one goes there. Not even if they were desperate." She explained.
"If we need to find Virgil, then I'm going after him." River said, determined. 
"If you're going to go, be prepared. You'll need some way to combat the radiation there. It's called the Glowing Sea for a reason." Amari raised an eyebrow.
River gulped. That wasn't good at all. She flashed a smile. "I'll find a way to get through the rads. Don't worry."
"Good luck, and... be safe." She turned back to her desk, examining the cybernetics from Kellogg. 
River turned to the pod Nick was previously sat in, seeing it empty. She turned to Doctor Amari who seemed to know what her question would be. 
"I unplugged Mister Valentine first. Removed the implant while you were waking up. He's waiting for you upstairs." She said, not looking away. 
River smiled, appreciative. "Thank you."
She walked up the stairs, passing Irma on the way who gave her a warm smile and a wave. As River reached the top, thoughts flooded into her mind. About Kellogg. He had been through a lot. His wife and his child… 
River sighed. She couldn't feel guilt for him, no matter how much her heart told her too. The same thing happened to her and she didn't murder people in cold blood. She wanted to help people, just as she had always wanted. 
She chose her path and Kellogg chose his.
River brought herself out of thought as she walked into the next room, seeing Nick sat on a bench on the opposite side of the room. His head was bowed slightly as he mumbled to himself. 
River walked towards him, smiling. "I know I've said this about a thousand times but I really appreciate all you've done for me. You've been-" 
"Hope you got what you were looking for inside my head."
That voice.
River's eyes widened as Nick looked up at her. It was his face but his whole expression was one River had never seen on Nick. It was unnatural. It was… It was that same wise ass grin Kellogg had when they spoke. 
"Heh. I was right. Should've killed you when you were on ice."
That... was Kellogg's voice. 
River didn't think. She drew her pistol, aiming it at the… The monster in front of her. “Stay the hell away from me!”
She was so stricken with fear, she didn't realise the man in front of her was back. Nick,!'s eyes snapped open wide as he pressed his back against the wall. He held up his hands in defense, his eyes widening. “River?! What the hell are you doing?!”
River shook. Nick's voice brought her back to reality. She let go of the gun, letting it fall to the floor. Her legs shook as she felt like she would follow suit. 
“I’m… I'm so- sorry. I heard him. I thought he was going to kill me…” She tried to explain, sinking to her knees. She couldn't believe it. She could've shot Nick. 
Nick gave her a confused look. "What? What are you talking about?" He knelt down in front of River and gently held her arms. 
River didn't say anything.
“River, you just pulled a gun on me. What happened?” Nick demanded.
River’s lip quivered slightly. “I heard Kellogg. I thought he was back...” She admitted, looking down. “I thought he was going to…”
Nick was taken back by River’s words. He... sounded like Kellogg? But… why couldn't he remember it then? Nick looked down at River. She was trembling in fear. Nick slowly lifted River’s chin. He narrowed his eyes, giving River a stern but also gentle look.
“Listen. It’s probably just a glitch in my system. Old memories of him playing random sound clips. Kellogg won’t hurt you ever again. I promise. The bastard is dead and he will stay dead. Trust me.”
River took a deep breath. She wiped her face before nodding her head, a determined expression on her face. 
"Let's get out of here."
“So what's the plan?” Nick asked. As he closed the door to the Memory Den behind him. 
River recounted the plan in her head. “Well, we have to go into the Glowing Sea to look for that scientist, Virgil. Apparently, it's full of radiation so I'll have to buy some rad-away.”
Nick let out a small chuckle as they walked. “You're gonna need a lot more than rad-away. Do you know why the Glowing Sea is full of radiation?” After River shook her head, Nick continued. “It's where the bomb dropped.”
“Oh.”
“Oh exactly.” Nick thought for a moment. “Maybe a suit of power armor would be the best thing but that will be hard to get. Only people who have those are the Brotherhood of Steel and I doubt that they’ll be willing to lend a hand...” Nick muttered with a roll of his eyes.
“Wait. Power armor?" River asked. She smiled. "I have a suit back in at home.”
Nick raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You do?”
“Long story. I'll tell you about it on the way.” 
The two made their way to the entrance of Goodneighbor when a voice stopped them.
“Hold on- It's you!”
River and Nick both turned around to try and find the voice. They saw a ghoul dressed in a dirty yellow trenchcoat and fedora run up to them. 
“After all these years... How is this possible?!” The confused ghoul asked, now standing right in front of the pair.
Nick stepped slightly in front of River. River squinted at the ghoul. Something seemed familiar…
That trench coat… 
Her eyes widened with realisation as she approached the man. 
“Hold on... aren't you from Vault Tec?”
“I AM Vault Tec!" The ghoul frowned. "And I wasn't even on the list!" He then looked down, upset. "Now look at me... But you." He gestured to the woman in pure disbelief. "Two hundred years and you're still perfect! How!?”
River couldn't help but feel guilty. She remembered as he was stopped at the gate, threatened with death as he was forced to run away. He lived all those years as a ghoul… While she got to skip the hard part. 
He at least had a right to know what was in the Vault. 
“Everyone in the vault was frozen. I thawed out a few weeks ago.”
“Vault Tec never told me that!” The man's eyes were wide and full of anger. He threw his hands up in the air in disbelief. “Unbelievable!” He then gestured to himself. “I had to get to the future the hard way... look at me! I'm a ghoul... a freak!”
“I'm so sorry.” River looked down.
The ghoul calmed down. He adjusted his hat. “You know... you're the only person I've seen from... before…” He couldn't help but let the tears emerge. “Oh God, I've been so alone! No Commonwealth settlement wants a ghoul with 200 years of Vault Tec sales experience!”
River scoffed. "What? You're a pre war, educated salesman who probably knows all there is to selling goods."
"Exactly!"
River thought. "Well…" It wasn't a hard decision. “You can come to Sanctuary. It's not much right now but me and a group of other people are trying to make it a decent place to live. You can stay there if you'd like. You'd be welcome.” 
The ghoul's eyes lit up, full of hope. “Really? You'll let me stay?” 
“Of course!” River gave him a warm smile. “Don't worry, there's a lot of people there so you won't be lonely. And I still live there so we can talk about anything pre war.”
“Oh thank you! Thank you!” The ghoul shook her hand frantically. 
“I guess we should properly introduce ourselves then." River chuckled as she held out a hand. "I'm River McConnell.”
“H...Harvey. Harvey Anderson.” The ghoul smiled. “I want to grab my things and say goodbye to everyone first. I know the way so I'll meet you there.”
River nodded. “Okay. I'll see you there, Harvey.”
Harvey began to run off. He waved at River and Nick before yelling a 'goodbye'.
Nick and River walked outside of Goodneighbor. Nick turned to River and smiled. 
“Why did you do that?” He wasn't against her decision, of course, but to give someone who was basically a stranger to her a home… That sort of kindness was rare in the world.
River let out a small sigh as she looked at her pip boy, trying to plan a route back to Sanctuary. “It's the least I could do. He practically saved my life." River looked to Nick who was clearly wanting more information. River continued. "On the day that the bombs fell, he came to my door and I filled out some paperwork. He's the reason why I managed to get to the vault in time. He's the reason why I'm here now.”
Nick looked back at Goodneighbor. “Wow…”
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heart-eyes-matteo · 6 years ago
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It’s You ~ David x Matteo
Hi, here’s that best friends to lovers AU I was talking about, I hope it’s okay!!
AO3 Link: In the reblog
Word Count: 6952
Warnings: none
Summary:
“And at school while he’s looking at Hanna, I’m…” he trailed off for a moment, lowering his voice timidly, “...looking at him.”
David nodded, his eyes downcast, and Matteo couldn’t help but think from the level of understanding on his face that he knew somehow what that was like. He brushed the thought off though - they were best friends at this point, and if David liked someone he would be the first to know. Right?
~
Or the one where Matteo and David are best friends. That is - until feelings become involved.
*Fic is under the break*
Matteo was 14 years old when he saw first saw David. They were on break, and Jonas had declared they desperately needed fresh air or they’d wither away inside. He was right, although Matteo really didn’t want him to be. He enjoyed spending his days at Jonas’ place playing video games, pretending that the world around them didn’t exist. That the fighting between his parents didn’t exist.
After a few days of consistent rainfall, the clouds had finally eased up to allow some sunshine. A gentle breeze gusted over the park, rustling his hair and misplacing a few strands as he plucked a flower from the ground and dropped it on Carlos’ head. The boy snorted and messed up his own hair in attempt to remove it.
“Matteo stop picking flowers,” Jonas groaned, not looking up from his phone for a second.
“I’m bored,” came the equally whiny response, earning him a laugh from Abdi.
“Dude, you’re literally always bored unless you’re playing video games.”
“So what? Video games are sick,” he retorted, flicking a smartie at the boy.
Jonas glanced up for a brief moment to roll his eyes, before returning right back to his phone. Matteo was almost tempted to ask what he was doing, but he knew that would only lead to one of the vague answers they had been receiving from Jonas as of late. He’d never admit it aloud, but he was beginning to worry slightly about what it was that he was so adamant on hiding.
He had forgotten to charge his phone overnight, which had to be some of the worst timing in the world because Jonas had chosen that particular day for wanting fresh air. He cursed his bad luck under his breath as he glanced about the park, trying to find some sort of entertainment. There was a woman there with her toddler, a family, another group of kids and a boy sitting alone.
Matteo eyebrows furrowed slightly as his eyes landed on him. His dark hair fell insistently over his eyes as he leaned over his sketchbook, headphones on to drown out the world around him. Matteo did that a lot at home these days, although he’d never tell anyone that. Despite not being able to see the boy’s face fully he could tell there was concentration written all over it, his hand guiding the pencil in smooth motions. He looked somewhat out of place at a park full on kids on a sunny day, wearing all black and radiating the energy of someone who didn’t want to be approached.
Mateo thought about how he felt when he was alone, and he couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would come to a park like this by themselves. Maybe he liked being alone? Matteo could hardly imagine what that would be like.
“I’ve got it guys!” Jonas yelled out in triumph, but for once Matteo’s attention wasn’t on him. It was still on the boy sitting by himself, who was now looking up curiously as if he could feel someone’s eyes on him. His gaze met Matteo’s, and for a brief moment he forgot how to breath. A faint smile ghosted over the boy’s lips, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
Carlos waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to Matteo?”
Matteo just swatted at Carlos’ arm, redirecting his attention towards Jonas. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
“I know where we can get some weed to try!”
Matteo pushed aside the uneasy feeling in his stomach and forced a smile onto his face. “Nice,” he nodded, giving him a clap on the back.
“Lets go back guys. I’m bored as fuck,” said Abdi, getting to his feet.
Matteo groaned and held out his arms, which the boy begrudgingly took to help him up.
As they made their way towards the footpath, Matteo gave Abdi a playful shove. “So when I say I’m bored you guys make fun of me, but when Abdi says he’s bored we go? What the fuck is that!”
Jonas laughed and slung an arm over his shoulder, which had an annoying bunch of butterflies appearing in Matteo’s stomach.
“That’s because Abdi isn’t bored by everything,” Jonas explained.
“Oh fuck off,” he mumbled, earning himself another laugh.
Matteo glanced back towards the bench for a final time, only to discover that the boy was gone. He stared in confusion for a moment, before shrugging and tuning back into what Jonas was saying.
~
It was a few weeks later when term had started that Matteo saw the boy again. Despite the sunshine they were having that day, there was a chilling breeze outside that had people tugging at their coats and tightening their scarves.
Matteo was walking casually through the corridors, fashionably late to his Science class as he often was. He was scanning the area absentmindedly as he walked, in no particular rush whatsoever to reach his destination. His eyes landed on that boy from the park, which had Matteo double-taking in an almost comical fashion. There was no mistaking him - he had dark hair and warm brown eyes, wearing all black as he had been the first time. He was leant up against the wall with the same sketchpad in his arms, drawing away with his headphones on.
Something in Matteo had him stopping all of sudden, and as the boy slowly looked up at him he began to realise what an awful idea that had been. He had no clue what to say, so he ended up standing there silently for a moment or two, probably looking like idiot.
“Hey,” he settled on saying. “I’m Matteo.”
The boy’s smile was amused, but it didn’t seem unkind.
“I’m David,” he greeted. “Did you want something?”
Matteo wracked his brain for something to say that wouldn’t make him seem like any more of an idiot, but he came up blank. He was used to feeling awkward around new people, but this had to be a whole new level of mortifying - this guy was cool in an intimidating way.
“Uh...not really. You’re new, right?”
David nodded, still looking amused. “Yeah. I’m new.”
“Well...let me know if you need help with anything,” he said, not even fully aware of what was leaving his mouth. He honestly had no idea what was happening to him - usually he was never one to initiate something like this.
The boy’s playful smile melted into something fonder. “Thanks, Matteo.”
~
The following day brought rainfall with it, which really shouldn’t have been surprising given the angry grey storm clouds Matteo had seen on the way to school. It happened to be a perfect reflection of his mood at that moment after having locked himself in his room for the whole night to escape the sounds of his parents fighting. They had clashed for as long as he could remember, but he swore it had never been this bad before. Turning up the volume of his music helped in drowning out the yelling, but it didn’t drown out the knowledge of what was occurring between his parents in the next room.
It had started out with one tear. Then another. Then another, until soon he was crying and getting up from his seat in the cafeteria, mumbling something to his friends about needing to go through to the bathroom. He stumbled slightly on the way there, his throat tight as silent tears turned into sobs that he had to muffle with his hand. He reached the boy’s bathroom and grabbed on tightly to the sink like it was a lifeline, looking into the mirror and trying desperately to calm himself down somehow. He hated crying more than anything, but sometimes it was hard for him to stop.
He thought about his dad, and how he kept talking about wanting to move back to Italy. He thought about his mom, and how she wasn’t getting the help he knew she needed.  He thought about having to potentially move out, about how alone he would feel in a place by himself.
He was drowning in his own thoughts, so much so that he hadn’t even heard the door being gently pushed open and closed again.
“Matteo?”
The voice snapped him out of whatever daze he had been. He whirled around then, looking alarmed despite the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one who had access to this bathroom.
“Oh. David.”
The boy bit his lip for a moment, and Matteo could practically see the gears in his head turning.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
David raised a disbelieving eyebrow, tilting his head in a way that almost seemed playful.
Matteo smiled weakly. “I’d prefer not to talk about it.”
David nodded, and silence fell between them for a moment. Matteo was seriously considering just thanking him for his concern and relocating to a different bathroom, but David spoke up again before he could move at all.
“Wanna sit down for a moment?”
Matteo could barely conceal his shock at that. This boy, who he barely knew, wanted to sit with him...because he seemed sad? He contemplated this for a seconds, before nodding hesitantly.
“Sure.”
He wasn’t entirely sure why he had agreed. Maybe it had been the concern softening David’s features, or the warmth in his eyes. Either way, they ended up sat outside the bathroom, leaning up against the wall.
“When I’m feeling sad, there’s this song I listen to,” David explained, pulling earphones out of his bag and untangling them.
“Now you can’t judge for this,” he continued, which had Matteo smiling faintly despite the tear tracks that were still on his face.
He managed to untangle them after a few seconds, handing one over to Matteo and plugging them into his phone.
“You may know these guys,” he said, keeping his screen purposely shielded as he scrolled through his songs.
Matteo’s smile widened slightly as the opening verse began to play, giving the boy a playful shove. He could barely believe that this song was being played to him by a cool-looking guy in all black with a sketchbook on him at all times.
“Seriously? This is your taste in music?”
“The rest of my music is good!” he defended with a laugh.
Everyone else in the room can see it
Everyone else but you
Matteo bit his lip to contain a grin as David mouthed along to a few of the lines, elbowing him playfully. He was enjoying himself miraculously enough, which was the last thing he thought he’d be doing this lunchtime.
“Look - you’re trying not to smile! It’s working!”
“Shut up,” Matteo laughed, feeling more at ease than he had at any point during that day. David had been a welcome distraction, with his cheesy song and his charming smile, and from that moment forth their dynamic shifted to resemble something more like friendship.
~
When Matteo was 15 he spent a lot of his nights in his room, listening to loud music through his headphones to drown out the noise in his house. The fighting was becoming constant now, and the yelling was becoming increasingly aggressive in a way that had his heart racing in his chest whenever he heard it. It was one of these nights, except this night happened to be slightly different. David was over, but his parents didn’t know this - Matteo hadn’t expected them home until much later, and he was kind of having an internal freak out over the whole thing.
“Is this what you have to go through every night?” David whispered, clearly alarmed by the situation.
The boy’s usual air of confidence was gone, although he was clearly trying to maintain a brave face. It was pouring rain outside, and the insistent pattering it produced against the roof was only contributing to all of the noise in that house, drowning Matteo in sound that he desperately wanted to cover up with music like he always did. He hated the feeling of being lost in itself, but the feeling of being lost amongst the loud shouts that would resonate around his apartment was something he’d never be able to describe with words.
“It’s nothing,” he sighed, brushing David off. “It’ll be over in 30 minutes or so. Maybe 40.”
David’s eyebrows were furrowed with concern now. Matteo was so used to the sarcastic version of the boy he knew that it caught him off guard slightly.
“It’s fine,” he repeated, more insistent now, but David just tipped his head to the side, clearly not believing him.
“Is this why you never invite me over when they’re home?” he asked slowly, clearly trying to tread lightly.
Matteo bit his lip harsh to stop it from wobbling in the way it always did before he burst into tears. He got up silently and relocated to his bed, sitting to face the wall. It was a futile attempt to block David out, considering they were both in the same room, but it was an attempt nonetheless. There was silence between them for a moment, then he felt the bed dip beside him.
“Why do you do that?” David asked, softer now.
Matteo looked over at him in confusion, forgetting for a moment that he was trying to keep his gaze firmly on the wall.
“Do what?” he questioned.
“Try to hide whenever you’re about to cry.”
He had no idea what it was about the words, but they seemed to open the floodgates because suddenly there were tears rolling down his face. Matteo reverted back to staring at the wall, and after a moment he felt David’s head fall gently on his shoulder. They both remained like that for what seemed like ages, with David’s arms wrapped around him.
It probably hadn’t seemed like much to David at the time, but to Matteo it meant everything. He was so used to coping on his own, he couldn’t describe how nice it felt to finally be able to lean on someone - both physically and emotionally.
~
“You’re a fucking asshole!” Matteo laughed, throwing the controller down on the couch.
David laughed along beside him, his eyebrows raised in a smug fashion. “Yeah? Well at least I’m an asshole that’s better at Mario Kart than you are.”
That earnt him a playful shove,
It was a dreary Saturday evening, with no rainfall despite all of the clouds that were blanketing the sky. Matteo had been in a constant state of stress over the past week due to tests, and this was the first day he could confidently say didn’t suck.
Everyone knew David was ridiculously good at Mario Kart, and they’d always ask Matteo why he was ‘insane enough’ to play with him despite this fact. He honestly couldn’t tell them why, he just liked the bright smile that would always light up David’s face whenever he won. That answer sounded somewhat weird though, so he kept that safely to himself.
“What should we do now?” Matteo asked with a sigh, collapsing back down on the couch.
David collapsed down next to him, still smiling. “I don’t know. What do people usually do at sleepovers?”
Matteo looked away bashfully. At sleepovers with his friends, they usually spent their time discussing all the girls they liked, and that had never particularly been an interesting conversation for him so that was definitely out of the cards.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you like anyone?” he asked casually, eliciting a choked noise from David.
“Pardon?” he coughed, and Matteo couldn’t help but raise a surprised eyebrow.
“What the hell was that?”
“Fuck off,” David said with a laugh, but it didn’t have any heat behind it. “It’s just…”
“Just…” Matteo teased, mimicking David’s voice.
“Never mind. Do you like anyone?”
Matteo could feel his face growing warm already, which was somewhat mortifying. He contemplated it in his head for a moment, building up the courage, before letting out a heavy exhale and sitting up.
“I like Jonas,” he blurted out, and David’s face twisted from one of curiosity to one of shock to one of...no way. He was just seeing things.
“Oh. That’s cool...he seems like a nice guy.”
Matteo let out a dramatic sigh, playing with the bracelet around his wrist as he thought about what to say. David had been the first person he came out to, so the amount of shock that had been on face seemed kind of strange.
“He is,” Matteo nodded, frowning slightly at the way David was refusing to meet his eye.
The other boy suggested suddenly that they try drawing in his sketchbook, which had become somewhat of a tradition for them, and Matteo hastily agreed. The dreary sky outside filled the room with washed out lighting that Matteo had never really appreciated, so he closed the blinds and turned on his warm lamps before settling down at the table with David and picking up a pencil. He watched the boy draw for a moment, becoming slightly caught up on how endearing his look of concentration was, before starting on some of his own drawings.
Somehow, the topic returned to Jonas, and from there it turned to Matteo complaining about his hopeless crush on him.
“I never even realised how much I liked the idiot until he started dating Hanna. How unfair is that?” he asked, while David nodded along.
“That sucks,” he agreed, seeming absent-minded when he really wasn’t in the slightest. He was clinging onto every word, hoping desperately that this was some bad dream he could wake up from.
“And at school while he’s looking at Hanna, I’m…” he trailed off for a moment, lowering his voice timidly, “...looking at him.”
David nodded, his eyes downcast, and Matteo couldn’t help but think from the level of understanding on his face that he knew somehow what that was like. He brushed the thought off though - they were best friends at this point, and if David liked someone he would be the first to know. Right?
~
“I’m trans.”
Matteo looked up, trying hard to conceal his shock. The confession had seemed sudden, but from the look on David’s face he knew it had probably been on his mind for ages.
“Oh. Well that’s fine,” said Matteo, settling down on the couch next to him.
David’s smile looked so relieved that Matteo couldn’t help but frown.
“Oh fuck. Were you scared of telling me? David I-”
“Matteo it’s fine,” he interrupted with a laugh. “It’s coming out in general that I don’t like. Not just to you.”
Matteo nodded slowly, turning the information over in his head. “How long have you been thinking about telling me?” he asked.
David hesitated for a moment before responding. “A few months.”
That in itself had Matteo’s frown deepening. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. But I will be now, okay?”
The smile David gave him at that was blinding. He leaned his head on Matteo’s shoulder, letting out a shaky exhale. “Thanks.”
Matteo spent the following few weeks researching as much as he could about being trans, and David had only found out about it when he discovered his search history a month later. To say he was shocked as a total understatement, but Matteo just shrugged and told him it’s what all friends should do. David was visibly more relaxed around Matteo from that forth, smiling more, laughing more, talking more openly about why he needed breaks sometimes to go to the bathroom, and Matteo couldn’t be happier for him. Despite all of their playful insults towards one another, he really did want David to feel as comfortable as possible around him.
They were friends after all - probably even best friends at this point.
~
When Matteo was 16 he moved into a flat share. It wasn’t a sudden decision by any means; he had been discussing it with David for 6 months before he finally made the leap, spurred on by his dad’s announcement that he would be moving back to Italy. He lingered back for a week or two to make sure his mum was okay, but eventually he couldn’t keep justifying the stress it caused him to see her in the state she was in.
That brought him where he was now; at his flat share, unpacking his things. He didn’t own a lot, but David was there helping him anyway. The day had brought sunshine with it after a week of miserable weather, and Matteo couldn’t help but feel somewhat hopeful as he parted his curtains, allowing sunlight to flood the room.
“It’s a nice room,” said David, smiling as pulled a stuffed cat from one of Matteo’s bags. “And look - a nice cat too!”
Matteo rolled his eyes fondly, moving across the room and holding out a hand. “Hand over the cat.”
“What if I don’t want to?” David teased, stepping back when Matteo stepped forward.
Matteo just raised a challenging eyebrow, advancing forward even further. David turned around, laughing when the other boy wrapped his arms around him. They ended up stumbling about, laughing and attempting to throw each other off. The soft sounds of 80’s music that were coming from Matteo’s phone filled the room as they both fell onto the bed in a heap, with David hovering above him. His eyes were alight with laughter and mischief, which had a foreign feeling appearing in Matteo’s stomach. One that seemed awfully like...no. Fuck no.
Their smiles faded into something softer as they both lingered there, unsure of what to say or do. A loud bang interrupted them, and David practically sprung to his feet as Jonas, Carlos and Abdi waltzed into the room. Jonas had a slight wince on his face.
“Sorry guys. That was loud,” he said, sitting down casually on the bed beside Matteo.
“Jonas! Hi,” he said, scrambling up into a sitting position.
David took a deep breath, looking dejectedly between the pair for a moment. “I’ll go get us some...food,” he said quietly, walking hurriedly out of the room.
Matteo’s eyebrows were furrowed slightly with confusion as he watched the boy leave, tempted for a moment to get up and follow him. Jonas draped an arm over his shoulder, the goofy smile on his face suggesting he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.
“What about a party tomorrow night to celebrate your new flat, dude?”
Carlos and Adbi nodded eagerly, while Matteo seemed hesitant, shifting his gaze uncertainly. It wouldn’t be a tolerable party for him unless David was there, and with the way he looked leaving the room Matteo wasn’t sure if he was in the best state to come along. Parties were fun and all, but lately he had found them to be overwhelming with their loud, pulsing music and large swarms of people. A part of him knew it was largely because he was closeted, and watching girls and boys being able to make out freely without worrying created a jealous pit in his stomach.
“Yeah maybe,” he settled on saying, saying up from the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
He left the room then, paying no mind to the confused glances that his friends all exchanged. He found David hovering in the kitchen, putting together sandwiches and humming quietly to himself. Matteo watched the scene with a fond smile; David rarely let his guard down in this way. His hair looked soft, tinged gold from the sunlight streaming in through the window, and he had earphones plugged in as he moved about.
Matteo cleared his throat pointedly, prompting David to look over at him. He didn’t look alarmed at all, which had a fluttery feeling entering Matteo’s stomach as he walked over. David had been comfortable around him for some time now, but the realisation never failed in bringing a smile to his lips.
“You okay?” he asked, approaching cautiously.
“Yeah,” said David with a shrug, continuing to move about the kitchen.
Matteo raised a disbelieving eyebrow at that, moving forward to stand in front of the boy as he turned around.
“You seemed upset just now. Did Jonas and the boys do something?”
David stared back at him, biting his lip out of obvious frustration, looking like he desperately wanted to yell something out. Matteo stared back challengingly.
“You’re so stupid, Matteo Florenzi,” he mumbled, side-stepping the boy and approaching the sandwich press again.
Matteo raised a hand to his chest in mock offence. “Okay, okay, no need to be an asshole.”
David just shot him a smug smile, and Matteo couldn’t help but wonder if that had always caused a swarm of butterflies to appear in his stomach.
~
Matteo gave into hosting a party the following day after some convincing from his friends, who all insisted that this was ‘a big step’ for him that had to be celebrated. Matteo couldn’t help but think they were using this as an excuse to get drunk and make out with girls, but he had checked in with David to make sure he would be there so he honestly didn’t care less about what they did.
Hans, his new overly-enthusiastic roommate, had welcomed the idea with open arms and was currently helping him prepare the apartment.
“So Michi might come over tonight after the party,” he told him with a bright smile.
Matteo nodded along, having already been filled in on the unique relationship they shared. He set down some plastic red cups on the counter, raising an eyebrow at the man.
“You two are seeing each other again?” he asked.
Hans chuckled and shook his head. “Oh no, not at all. He’s far too boring for me to be ‘seeing’ him. We’re just-”
“Okay, okay, got it,” Matteo interrupted with a wince, rolling his eyes at Hans’ cackling laughter
They’d left setting up until the very last moment, which explained the sharp knocking that filled the apartment a few moments later. Matteo groaned slightly and walked over to the door, throwing it open with a fake smile.
“Oh,” he gasped after a moment. “David!”
The boy arched an amused eyebrow. “You seem surprised.”
Matteo’s fake smile melted into a genuine one as he stepped aside to allow David inside.
“I’m not,” he laughed. “I don’t even know why I gasped.”
That was such a huge lie Matteo was scared for a moment that David would see right through it, but he just smiled again and wandered over to the kitchen. He stood there for a moment, probably looking like an idiot with the dumbstruck look on his face.
David looked good. Like - really good.
He had always known his friend was attractive - he wasn’t blind by any means, despite his refusal that day to help Hans judge the hotness of men on Grindr. Right now though his hair was styled up, his eyes were sparkling with mischief and he wore a black leather jacket with jeans. Matteo was so caught up in his staring that he hadn’t even noticed Jonas, Carlos and Adbi enter the apartment, and that was virtually impossible given how loud they all were.
He felt strangely hot all over, absentmindedly closing the door as he continued to stare. Surely looking as good as David did at that moment had to be illegal, with the way Matteo had currently been reduced to a star-struck idiot.
The way he felt now, watching David laugh as he talked to Carlos, was completely different to way he used to feel looking at him, and that thought in itself was terrifying. Lately when he looked out the window during class his mind would wander to David rather than Jonas, and now that he thought about it his urge to constantly be around Jonas had diminished over the past few months. It had all become about David, and that realisation hit him like a truck as he continued to stand there dumbly.
He could not like his best friend. This could absolutely not be happening.
Later on when the party was in full swing he was having his usual back-and-forth with David in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter with a smirk while David stood in front of him looking unfairly good, a plastic red cup in hand. This was a normal thing for them to do at parties, but somehow Matteo could feel himself blushing about ten times more than he usually did.
“Your face is awfully red Matteo, are you okay?” David teased, earning himself a playful swat on the shoulder.
“It’s hot in here,” the boy responded stubbornly, taking another sip of his drink.
“Oh sorry - should I leave?”
Matteo bit his lip to contain a smile, rolling his eyes playfully. “You’re such an asshole.”
David just laughed, and that sound should not have had Matteo grinning in the way it did.
He was so fucked.
~
Matteo was 17 when he finally told David that his crush on Jonas was gone. He hadn’t even really been planning to in all honesty, but they were lounging about on Matteo’s bed one evening eating cheese toasties and when David had rolled over to look over at him, something in him just snapped.
“I like don’t like Jonas anymore.”
It had been a miserable day outside, with heavy rain pattering against the room and filling the silence that fell between them after that. Hans was at Michi’s place (Matteo still thought their relationship was more serious than Hans let on) and Linn was visiting family. They were alone there, looking at one another, and Matteo had to take a deep, audible breath to calm himself.
“Oh,” said David after a while, still looking somewhat shell-shocked. “When did that happen?”
Matteo shrugged, trying to seem like he had no idea despite being able to pinpoint the exact moment he had realised - at that party when they were 16. Truthfully, he was hoping deep down that this information would spur David on somehow.
“He’s kind of annoying, honestly.”
David laughed, and the sound was filled with so much relief Matteo couldn’t help but wonder. Was there a change David liked him back?
“Actually - I think you’re the annoying one. He’s nice.”
“Hey!” Matteo accused, smiling softly when David just laughed.
His gaze fell on David again, and for a few lingering moments he had the urge to just lean forward and close the gap between them. The thought scared him so much though that he refrained - he had kissed girls before, but he had never kissed a boy in his life. Let alone his best friend.
“Wanna play Mario Kart?” David asked him with one those mischievous smiles.
Matteo could only nod yes, playfully pushing the boy back onto the bed as he tried to get back and rushing toward the door.
“Fuck you!” he laughed, letting out a playful huff when Matteo just stuck his tongue out and ran towards the living room.
~
From that moment forth, something noticeably shifted in his interactions with David. There was a new underlying tension there that made him feel fluttery inside, and eventually even the girl crew began to pick up on it.
Sometimes everything would melt away around them when they looked at one another for a lingering moment, both clearly wanting to say more, do more, but not knowing if they should. Sometimes Matteo would laugh particularly hard at something David had said, and for a moment the other boy would just watch him, smiling fondly, looking as though he wanted more than anything for Matteo to this happy all the time. It was no secret that were inseparable at school, constantly exchanging glances, constantly whispering to one another, constantly sitting together. Even Jonas would look over at them sometimes, his smile knowing in a way that had Matteo’s heart leaping into his throat.
David would bite his lip sometimes when they were alone as though he desperately wanted to say something, but didn’t quite know how. Matteo had come dangerously close on multiple occasions to blurting the words ‘what the fuck are we?’ but he had always managed to restrain himself at the last moment.
“So Matteo,” Mia began, her voice gentle as it always was when she was hesitant about asking something.
The boy hummed and looked over at her, pausing his internet surfing for a moment. “Yeah?”
“How’s David?”
He very nearly choked on his own saliva at that, coughing violently and bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. He had come out to Mia about a year ago, but that was the last thing he’d been expecting to hear at that moment.
Mia laughed and shuffled over on the couch to pat him on the back. “Are you okay?” she asked, clearly trying to hide her amusement.
All Matteo could bring himself to do was give a weak nod. “I’m fine. And David’s also fine! I don’t know why you would…” he trailed off uncertainly and bit his lip. Was there any point in trying to deny it anymore?
Mia raised an eyebrow, her eyes shining curiously. “So you don’t like David then?”
Matteo let out a heavy sigh. “Okay yeah...I guess I do.”
She gave him a kind smile at that, clearing sensing his hesitance. Mia had always been that way; sensitive to what other people were feeling, sometimes scarily so.
“That’s great, Matteo. Are you going to tell him?”
Matteo gave a small shrug, not even fully sure himself. He had come ridiculously close so many times it almost felt as though he’d never be able to commit to it.
“We’ll see,” he ended up saying, and Mia nodded in understanding.
“He’s very cute,” she said, giving him a playfully elbow.
Matteo felt his face redden at that. “He is,” he couldn’t help but agree, smiling as Mia gave him a wink and leant her head on his shoulder.
“How’s Alex?” he asked, but the girl just shook her head.
“Lets keep talking about David,” she murmured, her tone pleading.
Matteo was almost inclined to ask what was wrong, but it was obvious that Mia didn’t want to talk about Alex at that moment so he gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze and began talking about David.
~
It was another rainy evening, and Matteo and David were both rugged up in sweaters trying to do maths homework. Matteo even went the extra mile and wrapped a scarf around his neck, because he had trouble concentrating on maths as it was without feeling cold.
David was leaning over the table, his chin rested on his hands as he watched Matteo write. There was a playful smile on his lips that Matteo couldn’t help but find awfully distracting, but he tried to focus anyway.
“What the fuck is this?” he groaned after a few moments, gesturing down at the page.
David arched a perfect eyebrow as he read over the question. “That, my dear Matteo, is an equation.”
Matteo snorted. “You’re annoying; you know that?”
David’s smile widened. He moved around the table to sit beside Matteo. “Okay...well do you know what type of equation it is?”
Matteo just gave him a blank look, which seemed to tell David what he needed to know.
“It’s a linear equation. They want you plot a graph.”
He would never admit to it, but Matteo did actually know what he was talking about. He was just finding excuses at this point for David to lean into his space, and this happened to be one of them.
“I have no idea what that means.”
David gave him a knowing look, but he leaned over anyway and picked up his pencil.
“First you find the x and y intercepts,” he mumbled, and oh god - David’s face was so close to his own that all he would have to do is dip his head slightly and-
“Like this,” said David, glancing over at the boy with a small smile as he wrote.
Matteo nodded absentmindedly, his gaze shifting involuntarily down to the curve of his lips. They looked so goddamn kissable, Matteo was pretty sure he was about to lose his mind. His eyelashes were long, fluttering delicately, and he wanted nothing more than to tell David how cute he was. So he did.
“You’re really cute.”
David’s alarmed gaze met his, his eyes widened. “Pardon?”
“You’re um...you’re really cute,” he repeated, wondering deep down where the hell this courage was coming from.
“Oh,” said David, softer now. “...Thanks.”
He put the pencil down in favour of shifting in his seat to face Matteo, lightly biting his lip. Matteo’s breath caught in his throat. He quickly got up from his chair, heart racing, and moved over to the kitchen.
“I have leftover pasta in the fridge! Do you want to have a lunch break?”
He glanced back at David, who was still looking at him in that same heated way. Matteo inhaled sharply and turned back around.
“Um, sure,” came the delayed response after a moment, and Matteo busied himself with heating up pasta for them.
Matteo had kissed girls, hell - he had even made out with them, but he had never kissed someone who he genuinely liked. The fact that this person just happened to be his best friend really wasn’t helping matters either. Maybe one day he would pluck up the courage to kiss David.
Today just wasn’t that day.
~
Matteo was 18 when he finally kissed David.
The sun was setting, colouring the sky an array of oranges and pinks. They were on their way back from the shop, carrying bags of bread and junk food. There was a light breeze ghosting over them both, ruffling their hair and tinging their cheeks red. Everything just felt right.
“I have a new crush,” said Matteo suddenly, which had David looking over at him knowingly.
He could feel a whole swarm of nervous butterflies in his stomach now as he looked back, trying to seem challenging. The streetlamps above their heads flooded the footpath with a warm glow, and it only served to make David even more beautiful than he normally was.
“Oh yeah?” came the teasing response.
Matteo ducked his head bashfully, feeling his face getting redder by the second. David had to be the only person who could Matteo Florenzi feel shy.
“Yeah. There’s this boy...I’ve known him for a while.”
David was smiling wide now as they continued to walk, and Matteo could feel his heart racing. It felt as though everything - all of the heated glances, the touches, the flirty exchanges - had been building up to this point. The point at which one of them would crack and finally say something.
Matteo had definitely cracked.
“Do I know him?” David asked teasingly, his glances and Matteo progressively lingering for longer.
Matteo was smiling too now. “You might. He has dark hair...he likes one direction...he’s a bit of an asshole-”
“Hey!” David accused, and Matteo couldn’t help but laugh. “I only like one song!”
“Tell that to the fucking poster in your closet!”
It was David’s turn to laugh now, and as Matteo looked over at him he could feel the urge to grab this idiot’s face and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe growing stronger.
David’s laughter died down after a few moments. He looked over at Matteo, clearly understanding what the boy was thinking. He had known him for 4 years now, and he had pretty much become an expert in deciphering what every single one of his facial expressions meant. It was admittedly a nuisance sometimes, but Matteo really wouldn’t have it any other way.
When Matteo suddenly came to a halt, stopping right underneath a streetlamp, David did too. David’s eyes were shining with the same confidence that had pulled them together in the first place. He wasn’t hesitant at all; he was simply waiting for Matteo. And Matteo was completely done with holding back.
He stepped forward then, right into David’s space, and the boy gently set down the bags he was holding. There were a few cars zooming by, and the air around them was cold, and Matteo was feeling overwhelmed in the best way possible.
After years of repressing everything he felt, after years of hopelessly pining after his friend, he was about to kiss the boy he liked. After crying alone in his room, after coming close so many times it was surreal, he was leaning into David’s space. He was bringing a gentle hand up to cup the side of his face.
“It’s you,” he mumbled. “It’s been you for two years now.”
”I sure hope so,” David laughed quietly, which had Matteo rolling his eyes and closing the gap between them, bringing their lips together in a gentle kiss. He drew back slightly, before smiling and leaning back in, pressing his lips firmly against David’s this time. David trailed his hands up Matteo’s sides to hang loosely around his neck, pulling him in as close as possible, trying his hardest not to smile too wide. His lips were just as soft as he had imagined, a warm and welcome contrast to the air around them, still sweet from the lollies they’d had earlier. It was David; warm, comforting, inviting, and he was honestly kind of mad at himself for not kissing him sooner because oh man was it good.
“I like you too,” David mumbled between kisses, and it was impossible for Matteo not to smile at that.
Matteo had been waiting for this moment for what felt like the longest time imaginable, but he was unbelievably happy to finally be living in it.
186 notes · View notes
hollandsmushroom · 6 years ago
Text
Can You Love Me?
Calum Hood x Reader
Word Count: 1401
Request: I thought maybe Reader and Cal bond over their mutual disdain for love and whatnot, so they’re like best friends but they totally act like a couple lol Reader realized first that she’s in love with him and tells him and he freaks out, maybe one of the boys talks him down and realizes he loves her too, thanks so much @flucashemmings 
Also sorry that this is bad
Summary: You and Cal met at a party and bonded over your disdain for love, but will you be the ones that change each others minds on it
Warnings: none
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Red solo cup in hand you sat on the couch in a house you didn’t know, your friend had dragged you out of your little cocoon of an apartment that you had been hiding in ever since you walked in on your supposedly devoted boyfriend fucking some random girl into oblivion, since that day you had sworn off love and really people in general. Having been hiding out in your home and not leaving aside from work, this was your first outing in a while and it was not going to well. You were jammed into the corner of the couch by some drunk idiots wrestling next to you, that was, until a tall tan man in a blue blazer, holding a cup exactly the same as yours came along
“Mate, move it,” he hollered at one of the guys  on the couch, a demand to which the guy quickly complied to, making room for this prince charming esc man who was taking a seat on the couch next to you. He sat forward and spread his knees, taking a sip of his drink. He looked at you from the corner of his eye, you already having tried to avert your gaze from him.
“I’m Calum,” he extended a hand to you which you happily took, shaking it in yours firmly.
“I’m Y/n,” you responded 
“And what brings you here?” he inquired, his words slow and a thick drawl that you would later come to find he only had when he was hammered.
“My friend forced me to come,” you stated begrudgingly
“Why’d she have to force you?” He enquired, seeming genuinely interested
“Because I have been hiding out in my apartment for 2 weeks,” raising his eyebrows as he took another sip of his drink
“And why’s that?” He asked with the same interest as before
“Because, two weeks ago I walked in on my boyfriend, well now ex boyfriend, in bed with another girl so I am in the process of swearing off love, ” he hummed in response “Sorry, that was a lot, ”
“No, no, it’s fine, I was just gonna say, Welcome to the club, love sucks,” you giggled at his drunken words, feeling happier then you had in a while,. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?” He asked
Your eyebrows shot up “Look, I don’t know if you thought you were gonna chat me up but I am not interested, ” you bit back, you thought you had found someone with your current distain for affection, you started to make your way off the couch to go find your friend to tell her that you were going to head out. Just as you were about to walk away you felt a hand on your shoulder, you turned around meeting the gaze of the man that you
“Thats not what I meant, I meant like you want to go get coffee,”
“Oh, oh, I am sorry,” you blushed feeling stupid at your assumption
“No, its totally fine, I get the assumption, so you want to go get Coffee?” 
“You mean right now?” 
“Yea, why not?”
“Why not, cause its like 1 a.m.”
“So what, it means we will be awake longer so we can talk,”
“Seems like you have this all planned out,”
“I guess I do, no come on,” 
And here you are, 2 years later after that night that you and Cal spent talking about anything and everything and now here you are sitting on the couch in your best friends house, his dog laying at your feet.
The door opened and in stepped Calum, he looked over to you as he shrugged off his jacket
“Hey, you ready for movie night and cuddles?” he spoke, breaking the silence that had been filling your ears since you let yourself in with the key he had given you. You nodded your head in response, being oddly quiet, you were usually loud and outgoing when with Cal.
“Okay, here we go then,” he plopped down onto the seat beside you, throwing and arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close. He flicked on the TV and put on a movie, the two of you sat there watching the movie in silence, you cringing slightly when he hand ran up and down your side. Your hands were fidgeting in your lap as you watched. 
“I am going to go get some more popcorn,” Cal said kissing you on your temple 
“Mmm’k,” you mumbled, pretending to be entranced by the movie when really you were lost in you thoughts, soon you were brought out of them by the buzzing of Cals phone on the couch next to you. Without much thought you looked at the screen to see what was being said
Ashton US:
“How are you and your lover?”
It was all the text read and it was enough to make the dam inside you break, you reached out and grabbed the remote, turning off the T.V. and sitting cross legged on the couch
“What happened to the movie?” Cal asked when he made his way back in to the room 
“Cal, can we talk?” his eyes widened with slight fright at what you said
“What about?” he tried to get you to look him in the eyes, but you were intent on examining the details of your fingernails 
“Cal…I-I,” 
“Hey, it’s okay, you and me platonically against the world,” it was a joke the two of you had made ages ago on one of your late night contemplating love talks, but this time a tear slipped down your cheek at his words
“Cal, I love you,” 
“Aww, I love you too,”
“No, Cal you don’t get it, I love you,”
“Y/n, I ca-,” he interrupted 
“No, Cal let me finish, I love you in the way that we both swore off, I love you the way that when I see you my heart kind of skips and when you touch me I feel like I am glowing, I love you in the way that you will never love me,” and when he didn’t respond you ran away, with those words and the tears running down your cheeks you, out of his house leaving Cal flustered on his couch pooling in regret, trying to process the fact that the person that he loved just ran out the door after admitting reciprocating the feeling. He didn’t know in words that he loved you, he knew that he felt right when he was with you, that you made him smile, he needed to call Ashton, picking up the phone and pressing the call icon on Ashton’s contact. The ringing seemed to last forever until finally his bandmate answered
“Mate, its fucking late, why are you calling?”
“Y/n told me they loved me,” he let out as if he had been holding it in for years
“Woah, did you say it back?” he could hear the excitement in Ash’s voice
“No, I froze and they ran out,”
“Are you fucking stupid?” his friend hollered in his ear
“Well what if…”
“Cal, no, you love them, no matter how much you have tried not to, you are head over heals for them and if you don’t tell them you are going to regret it for the rest of your life,” without responding Cal grabbed his keys and headed out
You arrived at home and sat on your couch, grabbing a blanket and rolling yourself up, crying as you remembered the look of shock and the deafening silence that had filled your ears after admitting your love for Calum.
You didn’t know how much time had passed hidden in your blanket cocoon like you had been 2 years ago after you walked in on your then boyfriend, you were remembering the night you first met Calum when you heard a knock on the door. You ignore it but the knock was persistent, dragging yourself off the couch opening the door, there stood a slightly puffy eyed Calum
“Cal what ar-” your words were cut off as Cal pressed his lips to yours, pushing you through the door way and closing the door behind you
“I knew the night that I met you that you would be the one to change my mind on love, fuck, I love you, Y/n, so much,” he stared into your eyes
Taglist ——-
@heartbreak-5sos
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rosesfromcth · 6 years ago
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Too Hot
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word count:1.8k
Part 1/?
Summary: Enemies to lovers trope, frat boy! Calum hood, etc.
Inspired by the calum hood sidehoes gc credits to all of them for ideas especially @slimthicccal screw u
It was dark and crowded. You had decided to go out with a group of friends to what was supposed to be a chill hang out. But as your group was hanging out one of them got a text from their boyfriend telling her about a party at his frat house. You had begrudgingly agreed to go with them, figuring they would need someone to keep them in check. You had an early morning the next day so you didn’t want to get drunk or anything.
You were standing in a dark corner, gathered in a circle with a few of your friends, they were all talking about other people that were at the party when you heard a familiar name. Calum Hood. They all started to talk about how attractive they thought he was. You couldn’t help but feel your eyes roll every time someone said anything along the lines of, ‘Oh My God!’ “I swear!’ or ‘He’s so hot.’ You hated how much attention he got. Sure, he was a very attractive guy. But he was way too attractive for you to ever trust him. You were sure something had to be up with him.
“Hey Y/N, you should totally go for Calum. You two would be such a good fit together.” One of your friends, Isabel, giggled and soon the rest of them were nodding their heads in agreement.
“I bet Ashton could set it up, they’re good friends, same fraternity, too.” Your friend who had gotten you all invited to the party spoke up. Ashton was her serious, long term boyfriend, anytime she mentioned him, you swore you heard wedding bells ringing.
“Absolutely fucking not.” You snorted. Everyone in your circle looks at you in shock for a minute and no one says anything right away.
“Wait why? He’s so hot and he’s, like, a good guy.” Isabel protested.
“I’m so not interested, I fuckin hate him.” You said. You felt a little uncomfortable at the confession that had just fallen from your lips. You didn’t really hate anyone, but for some reason, you felt such strong emotions toward the dark haired boy.  
“Why? What did he do? I’m not kidding, if he hurt you, I’ll hurt him.” Maren, another girl, said suddenly.
“It’s stupid, but like he’s too fucking good looking to be the kind of guy he is. He’s too perfect, something doesn’t add up. I don’t fucking trust him.” You admit.
“What? Does little Y/N have a crush? All the more reason for me to set you up.” Ellie said as she called her boyfriend over. “Ashton, come here!’
Ashton heard her and walked over from the opposite side of the basement, it was amazing how he heard her from across the room, and it was so loud and crowded. “What’s up, babe?” He asked as he greeted her by wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing the side of her forehead.
“We HAVE to set Y/N and Calum up, she totally likes him.” Ellie said.
“I,” you interrupted, “do not like him, he’s an entitled ass. He’s too good looking and he’s too nice and smart. Besides don’t you think he can be kind of cocky and, I don’t know, smirky?”
“C’mon, there’s no way you hate him because he’s hot.”
“You totally like him, you can’t hide it from us.”
“Y’all would be a power couple if you got together.”
“I can go talk to him right now, Y/N, if you want? He’s here somewhere. I saw him like twenty minutes ago.” Ashton said
“Ashton, thanks but don’t. Can we drop it please?” Ashton seems to get it but no one else takes the hint or notices the slight icy tone in your voice.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Ashton, go get him right now!” Ellie demands.
“I said drop it. Don’t mention him again. I don’t like him. At all.” This time, your voice was completely icy and everyone could tell just how serious you were. For the second time that night, everyone was quiet. Then they moved on to a new subject, not wanting to push you. You were quiet for the rest of the night, waiting to leave the party. You were no longer in a good mood and couldn’t wait to get home but you had to stay to make sure everyone else got home safe as they continued to drink the night away.
It didn’t take long for news of your dislike for the popular frat boy to spread across campus. You were both fairly recognizable people on campus, you had been on the top of the dean’s list ever since your first semester at university and this was your second year as Student Government president. Not to mention the many other positions you held across campus and the many other organizations that you were a part of. You had a very good reputation on campus. You were well liked and very friendly to everyone you met which is why people were so surprised to hear of your hatred for Calum Hood. Calum was known well for being his Fraternity’s President, team captain of the intramural soccer team, volunteering on campus during the week and the parties he throws off campus on the weekends.  He was also known for, as had been brought to your attention too many times to count, the fact that he was insanely hot.
----
“Hood, did you hear that Y/N basically hates you guts?” Luke mentioned casually one day while their group was getting a late lunch after classes.
“She does?” Calum asked. He had no idea she felt that way. He’d barely every spoke to her so it seemed odd, but maybe it was just a rumor.
“Yeah. She was so pissed at the party last Friday night when someone mentioned that the two of you would be a cute couple. What did you do to her?” Luke continued.
Calum would be lying if he said he’d never thought about Y/N that way. She was cute, in a girl-next-door kind of way, and she totally acted the part. Top of her class, super sweet to EVERY ONE and she was always laughing. She seemed insanely innocent and as far as he knew, she’d never been the hook up type and he couldn’t remember her ever having a boyfriend. She had her shit together, anyone could see that.
“I mean, I have no idea. I don’t think I’ve ever really talked to her before so I don’t know what I could have done to piss her off.” Calum said. He could feel himself growing more confused as he thought about it. He couldn’t think of anything that he could’ve done to upset you. He was quiet throughout the rest of lunch as the rest of the boys moved on and chatted about a variety of other things.
---
It was just about a week later when it finally caught up to you. You were sitting in the on-campus coffee shop, doing some study for a huge exam you had coming up when Calum Hood walked in. You barely gave him a glance when you heard the door to the shop swing open, you saw his dark mop of curls and turned back to your work. You were not about to have a conversation with Mr. Pretty Boy. Typically, when people you knew walked in, you would wave at them or have a quick conversation, but you were not in the mood to talk to him. You hated hating him, it was exhausting and it felt like he was always taking up room in your life. You didn’t hate people, you always went out of your way to be nice to others and not in a fake nice type of way. So instead of being rude to Calum Hood, you would always be courteous and polite if you had to interact with him, but nothing more, nothing less.
Realizing, your focus was completely on Calum, you shook yourself out of it before turning back to your work. You were stressed enough about this exam without worrying about Calum so you needed to get back to studying. You put your headphones back in and softly hummed along to the Aces while jotting notes down and making flashcards, occasionally picking your coffee up to take a sip. You had completely forgotten about him until you felt a shadow fall over your table. When you looked up, there he was standing so you unplugged your headphones.
“Hello Calum.” You nodded. He must’ve taken it as an invitation to sit down because that’s what he did next.
“How’s my favorite student government president?” He smiled at you from what was now, his seat. He was happy by your pleasant greeting. He had been surprised to see you in the shop but was happy it gave him a chance to talk to you and gauge your feelings.
“I’m great, how about yourself?” You asked trying to think of way to get out of there.
“I’m pretty good, the frat and soccer team have both been-” He was cut off by you quickly grabbing your stuff.
“Oh shoot. I’m sorry I actually have to run. I totally forgot I have a thing to get to, like, now. I can’t be late. I’m sure you know how it is.” You rushed as you grabbed your stuff. You knew you weren’t being very tactful about leaving especially not about your excuse but you couldn’t just sit there and chit chat with him.
He slumped back in his seat and started to say goodbye but you were already crossing the shop. He looked upset and you almost felt bad. But not really. He had so many girls falling at his feet and why should you feel bad for him when he had everything with the flick of his wrist?
“Wait, actually! Hold up, Y/N!” He shouted as walked across the shop and caught the door behind you. You were surprisingly fast for your size and he had to speed walk to keep up.
“Y/N. I know you don’t like me.” He said loudly. This made you stop in your tracks.
“That’s not true.” You stuttered. “I’m just in a rush. Really. Calum.”
“Get off it. I know it’s true, obviously, by the way you’re acting.” He says. “All I want to know is why.”
This time you stopped in your tracks.
“Really. Calum? Not everything is about you. I don’t know why you’re bringing this up. Not everyone has to like you.” You sighed.
He stared down at you, you were itching to get out of there, so you rolled your eyes at him before trying to walk away. This time, he grabbed your arm, gently, and nudged you back. You could’ve easily pulled away but you let him.
“Ooh, that really hurt, angel.” He rubbed a small circle over his heart. “Here I was, under the impression that you were friendly.”
“Well I am. Just not to you.” You scoff, this time, you walk away and don’t let him get the chance to get another word in. However, you did hear him softly mutter, “what the fuck?”
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kurokoros · 6 years ago
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i may not be your cup of tea (but i’ll be your tenth shot of tequila) | part 1
Title: i may not be your cup of tea (but i’ll be your tenth shot of tequila)
Rated: M (smut, language, implied threesomes)
Words: 7.7K
Pairing: Sweet Pea x reader
Summary: Friends with benefits aside, you and Sweet Pea are just a bad idea waiting to happen.
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten
The Wyrm is surprisingly quiet for a Saturday night. While usually the bar is packed to the brim with bodies and alcohol this late at night with everyone celebrating that weeks new initiates, it’s nearly dead just after eleven tonight. Most of the senior members are out of town tonight, off taking care of business with another gang in Centerville, their fight not with the Ghoulies for once. Most of the Serpents you graduated with left for the quarry around nine, deciding to get smashed there instead of at the Wyrm for once, and you and Toni had momed most of the Serpents still in high school into going home before they got anymore piss drunk so close to their final exams.
You brother Jughead left nearly an hour ago for some date with Betty, and that left just you, Toni, Sweet Pea, and Fangs in the bar, Hog Eye leaving his keys with Toni and telling her to lock-up whenever they were ready as he left early for the night.
With everyone else gone, the four of you fell into a lazy game of pool, mostly just knocking the balls around aimlessly and trash talking each other, all a bit wobbly from the shots of tequila Toni brought out earlier. You’ve managed to keep yourself upright fairly well so far, giggly but lucid. Toni didn’t handle the shots as well as you and has been leaning on Fangs for the better part of the night, and he’s gained a particular delight in recording her stumbling around the Wyrm in her heels.
Even Sweet Pea has loosened up since the night started, grinning more freely now, able to let down his walls with everyone gone.
It’s nice, the four of you having a quiet night together. It’s something that doesn’t happen often anymore.
That’s when Sweet Pea makes an offhanded crack about your height.
You should ignore it, really. It’s not exactly uncommon for the boys to make jokes about how short you and Toni are compared to them, or for the two of you to make jokes the other way around. That’s just how you all are.
But Sweet Pea has always had a way of getting under your skin like no one else. It’s almost a talent on your part. The two of you have gotten along like fire and gasoline since you met back in your Sophomore year, once Jughead joined the Serpents. Your brother has always had a tendency to run his mouth and get himself into trouble, and you’ve always been the one to make sure he didn’t get his ass beaten because of it, so when Jughead started having problems with the other young Serpent you begrudgingly stepped in.
Everything he threw at you, you sent right back, your venom matching his biting comments, and that only made him try harder to push your buttons. Your arguments are practically infamous among the Serpents, the younger ones taking bets on which of you would win whenever the two of you would get into it. Despite that, there’s always been that air of protective affection between you that all Serpents have.
There was one time you overstepped in an argument and you both knew it. Your banter, while biting, has always been meant to rile each other up, not hurt each other, and you crossed that line with an ill-placed jab. Sweet Pea had clammed up, practically shut down, and you’d felt sick to your stomach for days, even after apologizing with Mongolian takeout and his favorite movies. And Sweet Pea got into his fair share of fights back in high school to defend you, even though you weren’t a Serpent back then. You might not always get along, but you take care of each other.
So, no, you don’t hate sweet Pea or even dislike him, really. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t an asshole over ninety percent of the time. An absolutely smoking hot asshole, sure, but still an asshole.
You blame the tequila for what you snap back at him.
“Why don’t you shut up and put your money where your mouth is, Skyscraper?” You prop your hands on your hips, tilting your chin up at him almost defiantly as you purse your lips. Eyes narrowing just a tick, you can’t help the slight quirk of your lips as his gaze snaps over to you, Sweet Pea stilling instead of taking his shot.
Toni and Fangs exchange a bemused look from the other side of the pool table. Nothing good ever comes from you and Sweets going at it like this, especially not in an empty bar.
He straightens to his full height slowly, curious eyes on you as he weights his pool cue in his hands, fingers flexing against the smooth wood. Sweet Pea glances you up and down, seemingly interested in your challenge, and you know you have him hook, line, and sinker. “What do you have in mind, Doll?” he asks, voice lower and throatier than usual from the tequila and you have to force yourself not to shiver.
“Strip. Pool.” You enunciate each word carefully, making sure he’s watching the way your lips work around the syllables. He seems to straighten even further at the proposition, all six-and-a-half feet of him towering over you as Sweet Pea shifts to face you more directly, only a few short steps away. “You and Fangs against me and Toni.”
Toni shakes her head as soon as you mention her, looking vaguely disgusted at the idea of playing a stripping game with people she grew up with. “No, no we are not doing that! Absolutely not!” You force your gaze away from Sweet Pea to shoot her a brief pleading look, but she only shakes her head again, eyes saying no fucking way bitch, you’re on your own.
Fangs peeks down at Toni, crossing his arms as a small smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “I can call Cheryl Blossom over. Would you be up for it then?”
“What did you just say Fogarty?” The too sweet tone of Toni’s voice makes him take a step away from her.
He takes a step away from her. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”
Sweet Pea ignores their exchange, dark eyes staring you down and swallowing you up. His brows furrow slightly, as if he can’t quite figure you out. He places his pool cue on the table, crossing his arms and leaning back against the table. “And what makes you think I want to play?”
“Because you like risks,” you muse, taking a half step closer to him. “We both do. And playing the same crowd of guys every night just isn’t doing it for you anymore, is it, Sweets?” It’s not a question. Not really. You both know he’s been frustrated lately, playing the same group of guys every week and already knowing how the game will end before it starts. “You need a challenge again.”
He doesn’t bother with masking his interest. “Why strip pool?”
You shrug, pretending like you haven’t thought about this before, like you haven’t thought about what it would be like to play with him. “The high stakes,” you tell him simply, ignoring Toni and Fangs standing there, absolutely flabbergasted. “And because I’m better than you and want to prove it,” you add cheekily, taking your lower lip between your teeth as you stare up at him.
“And what do I get out of it?”
You raise a brow at him. “What? the strip tease isn’t enough?”
A grin tugs at his lips, Sweet Pea shaking his head incredulously. “You do realize that if you lose you’ll be naked, right?” he asks, as if she hasn’t already thought of that, but there’s a touch of concern there as well, like he wants to make sure it’s not just the alcohol talking. “I don’t think your dad or brother would like that much.”
He takes another step towards you and your back hits the edge of the pool table, your neck craned back to look at him as you bat your eyelashes. “I won’t tell if you don’t.
A low sound that’s almost a groan rumbles in the back of his throat. “All right.”
“Shoes count.”
He glances at the golden snake necklace at your throat. “Accessories don’t.”
“I choose what you lose when I get a ball in.”
“And I choose what you lose.”
“Game ends when you lose all of your clothes.” It’s not the traditional take on eight-ball, but neither of you are complaining about that. A buzz of excitement tingles along your skin at the prospect of the game and making him eat his words for once.
His smirk grows as he takes another step towards you, amusement and something else flickering in his dark eyes. “You mean you, Baby.”
The look you send him is positively wicked. “I know what I said, Sasquatch.”
Fangs blinks rapidly, looking between the two of you in absolute bewilderment before looking down at Toni. “What the fuck is going on?”
“That?” Toni asks, a look of disgust and amusement flickering across her face. “That’s called foreplay, Fangs.” She claps her hands sharply to gain the two of yous attention, but neither you nor Sweet Pea dare break away from the magnetic gaze you’re locked in. “All right, you two have fun. We’re gonna go. I’m leaving the keys, so lock up when you’re done. And for the love of god, please try not to make a mess.” She shakes her head, eyes rolling when the two of you simply wave her off.
Sweet Pea cocks his head to one side, his tongue flicking out across his lips as he stares down at you, offering Toni no promises to keep things clean. He breaks your stare to let his gaze wander down your frame, eyes lingering not for the first time on the bare expanse of your thighs. His gaze drags back up slowly, and you could swear you can feel it sliding across your skin. The edges of Sweet Pea’s mouth twist up in a grin, gaze heated as he looks at you, and the sudden urge to take that lip between your teeth and bite it pools low in your stomach.
Fangs watches this exchange in disgust and vague fascination. “Yeah, I’m gonna go too. I can’t in good conscience watch you two fuck on the pool table.”
The two of them leave quickly, shooting the pair of you disturbed and amused glances over their shoulders as they make a break for the door before either of you can call them back to whatever crazy game it is that’s going on between you and Sweet Pea.
Sweet Pea takes a step towards you, torso barely brushing against yours as he boxes you in against the pool table, big hands grasping at the edge. Your breath catches as his presence wraps around you like a vice, his thumb teasing the hem of your skirt. Sweet Pea smirks as he dips his chin down to whisper in your ear. “When I win,” he tells you, lips brushing against your ear, breath hot against the side of your neck, “I’m keeping your panties.”
You tilt your chin up to meet his eyes again, Sweet Pea pulling back just enough to look at you, eyes dark. “You wish, Pervert.” You’re hands slide up his chest slowly and then you shove him away, Sweet Pea chuckling as he allows you to push him around.
Sweet Pea resets the table easily, grabbing his cue again before gesturing for you to start. “I’ll let you break, Sweetheart,” he jokes, winking at you as he moves to stand on the opposite side of the table.
You roll your eyes. “What a gentleman.”
Moving to the end of the table, you bend over dramatically, knowing you’re giving Sweet Pea a clear view down your black, lacy top, and line up the shot. Not for the first time, you’re glad you grew up playing pool in heels, the added height not throwing off your center of gravity too much.
Besides, the heels make your ass look great.
Ignoring the way Sweet Pea’s gaze burns right through you, you take the shot. The balls scatter across the table in a clean break and you pocket the seven ball. “Guess I’m solids,” you murmur, glancing up at Sweet Pea through your eyelashes and catching him watching you appraisingly.
You straighten and move around the table, looking for a clean shot.
The way you see it, it’s a fair match. You’ve never played Sweet Pea before, at least not seriously, and he’s good, really good. He knows it too, and that makes him cocky. You’ve had the added benefit of watching him play before where he hasn’t seen you sweep the table. You know his tricks, his taunting style of playing, how he’ll drag the game out even when everyone knows it’s over, he’s won.
You’re also fairly even when it comes to clothes. With the weather getting colder you’ve both shifted to wearing more layers, and that benefits you both in a game like this. That makes it seven for both of you, but you can only afford for him to get five balls compared to your six, unless you want to be playing with your ass or breasts out.
“Three in the corner pocket,” you call, easily making the shot. Grinning to yourself, you turn to Sweet Pea, finding him still watching you almost fondly, his dark gaze softer than usual as you look back at him. Humming to yourself, you look him up and down slowly, deciding how you want to play this game with him. “I’ll be taking your socks and shoes, Sweets,” you tell him after a beat.
He quirks a brow, but crouches to untie his shoes anyway. “Not starting off very strong there, Doll.”
You watch him toss his boots towards the bar, his socks following a moment later before he stands up again. “Maybe I like to take my time,” you say, ignoring the implication there.
Sweet Pea doesn’t. “And what if I don’t?” he asks lowly, something warm pooling low in your stomach at the question, but he doesn’t give you time to answer as he turns back to the table, pocketing two stripes without a word. “Jacket and flannel, Babe,” he calls over to you across the table.
You roll your eyes as you drop slip off the leather, clinging to your green flannel for a second longer before removing that as well. A chill immediately sweeps through you, goosebumps prickling across your skin, the Wyrm cold without your layers. Folding your clothes nicely, you set them across the back of a bar-stool, feeling Sweet Pea follow you with his eyes, you left in only a thin, lacy top and a short skirt.
You pocket two more balls on your next turn and take his jacket and flannel as well, Sweet Pea shaking his head in amusement as he slid the leather jacket from his shoulders and tossed it across the back of a nearby stool, his green and grey flannel following close behind. You hadn’t realized before that the two of you were nearly matching, and a part of you wonders how you never noticed.
Eyes following Sweet Pea, he practically makes a show of taking his next shots, and you don’t need to watch to know he pockets both of them, the distinct sound of the balls slipping into the pockets the only noise in the bar.
“Shirt,” he says immediately upon making the shots, making you snort. He looks you up and down, as if he can’t quite decide what else he wants you to do. Sweet Pea wets his lips, eyes shifting back to your face. “And your skirt.”
You hands find the hem of your top, easing it up slowly and feeling the weight of Sweet Pea’s gaze on you as you tug the flimsy shirt over your head, careful not to let it catch on your hair. You let the fabric trail off your shoulders and slip down your bare arms, past your hands, and down into a small heap at your feet. Eyes locked with his, you watch Sweet Pea swallow as your fingers find the zipper on your skirt, easing it down slowly as it loosens around your hips. It drops to the floor.
Suddenly you’re glad that you’re wearing the nice matching green bra and panties set that Toni made you buy the last time the two of you went shopping in Greendale. You hadn’t intended for it, but you’re suddenly all too aware that it’s his favorite color.
“Heels and my underwear?” You snort, stepping out of the pool of your skirt at your feet and trying to keep your heart from jumping out of your throat. “You’re such a guy, Sweets.”
He only grins back, gaze greedy as he drinks in the sight of you, eyes following the curve of your hip before drifting to your cleavage, barely concealed by green lace. Sweet Pea’s searching gaze falters, locking on something interesting. “I wondered where your tattoo was,” he mumbles, eyes on the two-headed serpent on the right side of your rib-cage, nearly hidden from view.
You’ve had the tattoo since you were eighteen, Toni inking the symbol onto you the day after completing your initiation, much to you brother and father’s begrudging approval. It wasn’t that you ever tried to hide it, exactly, but the location wasn’t one you let most people see. It’s always felt like something private to you, in the four years since you’ve had it.
You turn your back on Sweet Pea, suddenly feeling very exposed, and ignore the way his eyes follow you as you turn back to the table to take your next shot. You pick an easy shot, one that even an amateur player could make. Taking a slow breath through your nose, you try to steady the sudden jittery feeling that washes through you.
You look at him again once you’ve made the shot, something in the room shifting between you. “Shirt.”
His eyes don’t stray from yours as he takes the hem in his hands and pulls it over his head in once fluid move, tossing the dark T-shirt into the pile with the rest of his clothes. Inhaling sharply, you swallow, fighting the urge to stare.
Sweet Pea has always been some seriously damn delicious eye candy. You’ve never been blind to that. Over six feet tall, broad shoulders, the muscular expanse of his chest and strong torso. The defined shape of his arms and the dark trail of hair obscured by the top of his jeans riding low on his hips. He’s always been hot and he knows it too. The cocky bastard.
You must stare for a moment too long, because Sweet Pea’s lips twitch upwards in amusement. “Your turn again, Babygirl,” he tells you in a low throaty voice, chuckling softly and the sound goes right to your core, your thighs clenching slightly.
Turning back to the table, you try to steady your breathing, lining up another easy shot. A pair of hands settle on your waist, touch barely there, but it’s enough to make heat crawl up your spine as Sweet Pea presses himself against your ass. You jerk in surprise, hitting the cue ball too hard and making the five ball crack against the side of the table instead of slipping into the pocket.
Sweet Pea’s hands slide higher on your waist as you lower the pool cue, his big hands coming to settle just beneath your bra. “Come on, Baby, you can do better than that,” he teases, breath hot and teasing against the shell of your ear.
“Asshole,” you breathe back, shaky, and straighten your back, pressing your spine flush against his bare chest, his skin burning against yours. His thumb brushes against your Serpent tattoo, tracing the shape of it as his lips brush against your bare shoulder.
One of his hands slips around your front, palm pressing flat against your stomach to hold you to him. “Do you want me to stop?”
You push your ass back against his crotch, Sweet Pea grunting in surprise as you grind back against him. “Hell no.”
You twist around in his arms, heels giving you the added height you need to fist a hand in the hair at the back of his neck and drag his lips down to meet yours in a bruising kiss. A low sound rumbles in Sweet Pea’s chest as his weight presses against you, pinning you between the pool table and his towering frame so that you can feel him everywhere, his presence consuming you in a haze. You sigh against his mouth, as he forces your head to tilt back. His calloused fingertips slide along your spine, leaving fire in his wake.
A yelp leaves you as his hands hook under your thighs, his mouth immediately swallowing your appreciative moan as he lifts you clear off the ground, your legs wrapping around his hips as he drops you onto the edge of the pool table, the wood cool against the backs of your thighs. Sweet Pea’s grip on your thighs is bruising, but you only keen at the rough treatment, arching into his chest as your fingers rake through his hair, lips moving against his fiercely.
Your thighs quake around him when he grinds against you, a soft, fluttery sigh leaving you at the feeling. The breathy sound makes him shiver, his fingers sliding high on your legs, teasing the bare skin. Your fingers ghost down the sides of his neck, teasing touch making Sweet Pea’s hips snap against yours. You pull back to murmur his name against his lips, a shaky sound pulling from your chest.
Shivering against him as his palms slide higher up your thighs, fingertips pattering against your skin to his own rhythm, you bite at him, trapping his lower lip between both of your teeth and nibbling. Sweet Pea huffs at you, shuddering as you suck his lower lip into your mouth, tongue grazing it lightly, teasingly. His hands slip beneath you, fisting at your ass and giving you a rough squeeze. You moan against him, shuddering, and pull away from his lips for just a moment. Groaning against your mouth, Sweet Pea tears his lip from your grasp.
“How many shots did you take?” he demands, fingers kneading at your flesh, urging you to answer him. You know he’s talking about the tequila, not the game, and something almost fond builds in your chest at his concern.
Your hand tugs at his hair slightly, the other hanging loosely down his back, your fingers perusing the newly bared skin with a content sigh. “Not enough that you should be worried about it,” you murmur back, words muffled by his lips as you try to drag his mouth back to yours.
He grins before dipping his chin to drag you into another harsh kiss. His tongue slides across the seam of your lips slowly, tasting you and making you moan his name. You squirm, tugging at his hair harshly, encouraging him, and Sweet Pea groans, jerking you forward as he bucks against you, grinding his hard cock against your covered core. You gasp against him, hips rocking back against his.
Sweet Pea rips away from you with a lewd, wet pop, but doesn’t stay away for long. His lips meet your skin once more, hot wet kisses trailing over your jaw and down your neck without warning. You gasp, squirming against him as he roughly bites and sucks at your pulse point, lips lazily trailing down the column of your throat, nosing at your soft skin. “Oh,” you gasp as he peruses your neck, tilting your head up to give him better access. “Sweet Pea,” you murmur, eyes slipping shut as he finds a particularly sensitive spot below your jaw. Sweet Pea bites you roughly and you yelp, surprised, but he quickly soothes the spot with a slow lick, a hard suck following, sure to leave a bruise as he pays particular attention to that spot.
One hand slips down, groping at your ass and grinding your hips against his. A hiss leaves him at the rough contact of your core gyrating against him in a slow grind.
Your fingers ghost over his hips before grasping his arousal through his jeans, palming him roughly. Sweet Pea moans against your bare skin, teeth pressing into your shoulder to muffle the sound. One of his hands slams against the wood beside your hip, his hand clenched into a tight, desperate fist. His mouth leaves your skin, his breaths ragged as he presses into your hand, forehead dragging against your shoulder roughly.
He bats your fingers away suddenly and rips away from you, sending you an absolutely wicked look as he drops to his knees, eyes never once leaving yours. He slides his palms down your torso slowly, thumbs teasing the hem of your panties, already slick despite him barely touching you. Sweet Pea notices this as well, smirking up at you in a way that could only be described as dangerous.
Sweet Pea’s hands slip down to your knees, grip tight as he pushes your legs further apart until he slips easily between them. Sweet Pea wets his lips, drinking in the sight of the wet, green lace between your legs. His grip tightens appreciatively on your thighs. Sweet Pea’s thumb gently brushes against the lace between your legs, gauging how wet you truly are. He groans when the digit comes away slick and wet, his finger glistening when it catches the light. His thumb ghosts over your core, and you gasp, bucking into his teasing touch.
Swearing under his breath, Sweet Pea grabs you by the leg, your left thigh tossed over his shoulder as Sweet Pea yanks you to the edge of the table, leaving you balanced on the edge. He doesn’t give your a moment to breathe as he suddenly lunges forward, mouth latching onto your covered slit as he laps at you, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit through your panties.
You gasp, doubling over and fisting at his hair, yanking him tighter against you, shivering. Sweet Pea groans as you pull roughly at his hair, the sting of pain only spurring him on. You try to rock against his mouth but Sweet Pea holds your hips down tight against the pool table.
Quivering, you throw your head back, eyes squeezing shut against the onslaught of sensation. His tongue is hot and the drenched lace of your underwear rubs against your clit roughly as he grazes his teeth against you. It’s enough to make your toes curl, leaving you panting, his name slipping from your lips with a breathy sound. Your fingers twitch against his scalp and Sweet Pea hoists your leg higher over his shoulder.
There’s a delicious burn in your thighs from the stretch. “Sweet Pea,” you whimper, arching into him. It comes out breathy—needy, and you whine at the feeling. “Fuck, Sweet Pea,” you pant, hips rocking against his mouth as his tongue works against you. “Oh, god,” you choke out, nearly sobbing as he works you to your tipping point rapidly.
He yanks his mouth away from you suddenly, leaving you right at the edge, a quivering mess, and you groan, heel digging into his back as you try to guide him back to your center. Sweet Pea chuckles at your pout, breath hot against your covered core and making you squirm at the lack of friction.
“Tease,” you huff out, trying to steady your breathing as you glare down at him.
Sweet Pea’s fingers squeeze around the leg tossed over his shoulder, lips brushing against your skin in the ghost of a kiss. He looks up you from between your thighs, eyes dark with arousal and the room smelling of sex, and it’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever seen. “You like it,” he quips, voice rough as he mouths at your inner thigh, nipping at your skin, gauging your reaction with sharp eyes.
You hum in response, back arching as he works a hickey onto your skin. “Maybe,” you concede, loath to admit that he’s right, that your arousal is only growing the more his teasing fingers work against you.
Sliding your leg off his shoulder, Sweet Pea rises back to his feet, standing between your splayed legs as his big hands wrap around your waist. His fingers trail up your spine until he finds the clasp of your bra, working a finger beneath it, but otherwise leaving it untouched. Sweet Pea’s hands on your back drag you to the edge of the table, coaxing you to slide off.
He jerks you around without warning as soon as your feet touch the ground, heels clicking against the wooden floors, pressing your back flush against him and pinning you between him and the old pool table. You gasp, surprised, and Sweet Pea curls one arm around your hips, the other coming up to tangle in your messy hair, tilting your head to the side. Sweet Pea presses a heated kiss just below your ear, working a hickey onto your skin and making you sigh as you lean back into him. Your head drops back against his shoulder as his teeth scrape along the side of your neck.
Both of his hands slide down to grab your hips, Sweet Pea thrusting against you roughly, grinding you ass back against him. His hot breath fans against your ear. “Bend over,” he demands, nosing at your throat and making you squirm.
You hesitate, glancing at him over your shoulder, but he’s Sweet Pea and you’ve never not trusted him before, so you take a slow breath and allow him to lower you into a deep bend, your chest flush against the cool table. “That’s it,” he breathes out, taking a moment to just look at you, at his hands sliding from your hips up your sides and to your ribs, his tattooed thumb ghosting the Serpent on your side. “Fuck, do you have any idea how hard it was not to bend you over and fuck you senseless earlier?” he asks you.
You tremble below him, the heat of him pressed along your spine as Sweet Pea looms over you, humming against your ear as he trails wet kisses along your neck. You arch against him, grinding back against him sharply. “I think I have an idea, yeah,” you manage to get out as he pulls away from you for just a moment, allowing you to breathe. For a moment there you thought you’d jump him too, but he beat you to it.
Sweet Pea’s hand leaves your hip to yank at his belt, nails ripping at the leather to set his cock free. You gasp below him as you hear the clatter of metal, Sweet Pea’s belt dropping to the floor with a sharp clang, the sound loud in the otherwise silent bar.
You can feel him then, hard and hot as he presses against you from behind. Sweet Pea’s hand slips between your legs to shove your panties to the side. A shaky breath slips passed your lips, your forehead dropping down onto the table as the head of his cock traces your drenched opening. “Sweets,” you manage to choke out, swallowing down a moan, “condom.”
He laughs and you can feel the sound rumble through you all the way down to your core. “I know, Babe.” He squeezes your hip before pulling back. As he fumbles around behind you your gaze turns to the half finished game of pool you had been playing. Luckily for you, the table is almost bare.
Sweet Pea’s fingers play with the clasp of your necklace before sliding up to gather your hair into his fist, guiding your head to the side until your cheek is pressed against the tabletop. His cock slides along your wetness suddenly, coating himself in your juices, and you claw at the table, his hand burning against your hip as he thrusts against your slick opening, panting in your ear, teasing. “Fuck, baby,” he groans, mouthing at the back at your sweaty neck, nosing at your sticky skin as he rolls his hips against your ass. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight,” Sweet Pea growls against your ear. It’s a promise, you know, and Sweet Pea has every intention of following through with it, his breaths heavy against the side of your throat and his hips moving against you harshly as he grinds into you.
“I’d bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asks you, hand slipping around your hips to prod at your swollen clit. Your hips jerk back against his as you whimper his name. Rocking back against his hard cock, you bite your lower lip, silently begging him to just fuck you already.
As if knowing exactly what you’re thinking, he grins against your throat.
His grip tightens on your hip, his thrusts shallow against your dripping opening, the flared head of his member prodding at your entrance teasingly. You gasp, nails biting into the green fabric on the table. “Shit, Baby,” Sweet Pea groans against your ear, nipping at the lobe, “you’re so fucking wet.” You shiver, quivering as he continues. “Do you like it when I talk to you?” His tip kisses your clit, making you hiss as he ruts against you once more, pressing you further into the table. “Do you like it when I tell you what I’m going to do to you?”
You do, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of saying it out loud.
“I’m going to make you beg for it, Sweetness,” Sweet Pea tells you, flicking at your clit again, making you choke on his name. “And then I’m going to fuck you until all you can do is scream my name.” Sweet Pea noses at your exposed ear, making sure you’re paying attention to him and only him. “But I’m not gonna to let you cum until I want you to,” he promises, voice low and dark, raspy.
“Sweet Pea,” you whine, biting your lip as you grind into his hips, patience thinning as he thumbs at your clit and continues to tease your sopping opening, wanting to drag things out, wanting to drive you crazy.
He teases your sweaty skin, mouthing at your pulse point. “What do you want, Baby?” he coos, rocking against your ass sharply, groaning when you whimper, trembling. Your nails rake across the table as he thrusts against your thigh. “Tell me what you want.”
“Oh, God, Sweet Pea,” you moan, hearing him panting against your ear. You almost cum just feeling him slide along your slick skin, his fingers biting into your hip roughly as you squirm against him, wanting him inside you.
His fingers release your hair, his knuckles sliding against the back of your neck and you gasp at the feel of his rings on your skin, every part of you hyper-aware of him, sensitive to his touch. “Use your words, Doll,” he teases.
You huff, rolling your eyes at him, then gasp as he pinches your clit between his fingers sharply. You swallow your pride, aching for him terribly. “I want you inside me,” you admit. “Sweet Pea, please,” you beg, feeling him shiver above you. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Say it again,” he demands, voice rough as he grinds against you sharply. You grit your teeth to hold back a hiss and he smiles against your skin.
“Dammit, Sweet Pea,” you groan. “I want your cock inside me!”
You have no warning before he suddenly rears up and forces you down harder against the table, his cock shoving inside you brutally fast, sliding in easily you’re so wet. You gasp, clawing at the table as his thick length fills you completely, Sweet Pea long and hard inside of you. Your back arches as his hips press tight against your ass, Sweet Pea filling you to the brim. You release a shuddery breath, dropping your forehead to rest against the cool surface of the table, panting when he shifts inside you, stroking along your walls wonderfully.
“All you had to do was ask,” he teases, hips gyrating slowly, stirring your insides and making your whimper in pleasure.
“Asshole,” you choke out, but there’s no bite to it.
You relish the slight burn between your legs as you adjust to his size, Sweet Pea thick and imposing inside of you, stretching you to your limits. He rocks against you slowly, allowing you a moment to breathe, but it’s not what you want right now.
Your hips snap back to meet his and he moans. Sweet Pea presses flush against your back once more, hips thrusting against yours harshly in response. Your mouth falls open with a silent cry as he grinds into you, the tip of his cock prodding at a sweet spot inside you. He peppers kisses along your neck and shoulders as his cock drags along your walls, Sweet Pea pulling out slowly until only his tip is resting inside your. His hips snap forward roughly, filling your so suddenly that you moan his name.
Sweet Pea mumbles something you don’t catch, hand fisting at your ass as he forces you back to meet his powerful thrusts, your pants and the slapping of sweat slicked skin the only sounds in the empty room. A choked gasp tears from your throat as he shoves into your, whimpering at the feeling of him stretching you from behind, the sensation new and highly addictive.
At the sound of your high whine, Sweet Pea picks up the pace, stealing the breath from your lungs as his hips snap against yours, movements sharp and fast, Sweet Pea grinding against you roughly. You gasp at the unexpected power of his hips rutting against yours, your gaze going hazy with pleasure. Sweet Pea pounds into your relentlessly—hips thrusting against yours harshly, movements rough and sharp as he slides against you. Your hips jerk back to meet him, matching his thrusts with your own as you circle against him slowly.
Walls sucking at his retreating length, you moans as the head of his cock rubs against a sensitive spot along the top of your walls, pushing you closer to the edge. You sob as you shove yourself back on his cock, arching your back to let him reach deeper inside you.
He thumbs your clit and you pant his name, begging him to fuck your harder, so close to tipping over the edge.
“Y/N,” Sweet Pea moans in your ear, the coil inside you winding tight. You squeezes around him, shaking, your hips rolling against his roughly. He swallows down a moan, eyes rolling back as you clamp down on him tightly. He thrusts into you harder and faster, pulling out less than he did before, and you whimper, gasping, fingers twitching against the tabletop.
Your muscles seize around him, quivering, your toes curling.
Sweet Pea stops his fast pace, rocking into you at a more languid pace, and you whine, trying to shove yourself back onto his cock, but he stills you with the hand on your hip, grinning against the back of your neck as you cling to the threads of your impending orgasm, so close to bliss, but he denies you, edging you again.
“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he teases. “I said I was going to fuck you until I wanted you to cum, Sweetness,” he reminds you, hips snapping forward roughly. You moan at the feeling, but he begins rocking into you lazy instead. “I’m not done with you yet.”
You shiver in response, wetting your lips, and twist around slightly, tilting your head just enough for you to look at him as he rolls his hips against yours slowly, filling you with long, deep thrusts. “What?” you asks him, peering up at him through your lashes. “Afraid you’ll come too early, Sweet Pea?”
Sweet Pea pinches your clit roughly, making you keen. You arch into the table as he rolls your clit between his fingers, only for a moment before releasing your. “Smartass,” he hisses in your ear, eyes narrowing dangerously as he glares down at you. “Wipe that grin off your mouth,” he grumbles.
“Make me,” you snaps back at him, egging him on, hoping to get a rise out of him and get him to pick up the pace.
Sweet Pea pulls out of you suddenly, yanking you around and picking you up by your thighs. He drops you back onto the edge of the table and reenters you just as quickly, forcing your back flat against the pool table as his hand wraps around your throat, your own hands snapping up to grasp at his wrist in surprise. He doesn’t squeeze though, only holds his hand there, fingers stroking the side of your neck as he rocks lazily against you.
His hand leaves your neck, big hand grasping both of your wrists tightly and pinning them against the table above your head. You bite your lip, eyes squeezing shut as he presses into you, taking his time and letting you feel every inch of him as he slides along your walls.
“Fuck, Sweet Pea,” you murmur breathlessly, wanting to grab him and pull him down to you, but he holds you down easily. “You’re so big.” The praise slips from your lips with a throaty moan.
Sweet Pea suddenly thrusts against you roughly, a long, low moan slipping from your lips as you jerk back to meet him, only to whimper when he returns to his slow, steady pace, sliding out of you fully before pressing back into your tight heat.
You squirm again, but he only rocks into you slowly, releasing your wrists and ghosting his fingertips back down the length of your arm until he can grab you by the throat again, holding you there, grip firm but loose, enough for you to feel it, but not cut off your air.
His fingers prods at your clit and you whine, biting your lip as you rocks back against him, Sweet Pea leaving your clit to latch onto your hip, helping you to roll against him. He chuckles at the frustrated face you make, squeezing your throat gently. You only huff, but a pleased sigh pulls from your throat as his head rubs against your walls, drawing a shiver from you.
He slams into you suddenly, picking up the pace when you moan lowly, his name on your lips. Your hips jump when he drags along your sweet spot inside, you grinding back against him, uncaring of the table edge digging into your lower back, your legs tensing around him as he continues thrusting inside you.
Sweet Pea stares back at your with heavy-lidded eyes, mouth open as he pants, pleasure etched onto his face and sweat sliding down his neck.
“God, you feel so good around my cock,” he grunts, plowing into you. Tears build in the corners of your eyes. “Do I make you feel good, Baby?” You rocks back against him and Sweet Pea’s hand slips under you to fist at your ass. “Fuck, Doll, you take all of me like a good girl.”
Hand still on your neck, Sweet Pea pulls you up so that your front is pressed tight against his chest. He moans against your ear, breathing harshly against your throat. “I want you to cum, Baby,” he demands, groaning against your skin before dragging his tongue down the column of your throat, tasting your sweat-slicked skin. He grunts against you, a low, strangled sound shoving passed his lips before he nips at you. Sweet Pea begins jack-hammering into your center, not giving your a moment to breathe as he pounds into you. You whimper, clinging to him. “That’s it, Baby, just like that.”
Sweet Pea slips one hand between your legs. Two fingers rub furiously at your clit, Sweet Pea determined to get you off first. You sob his name, moaning, hips jerking against his as you claws at his back, nails dragging against his skin roughly. His breathing becomes erratic, a shuddery breath fanning across your lips. Sweet Pea pounds into your core so unbelievably fast that the breath is knocked from your lungs. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, crashing through your so hard that the breath is knocked clear from your lungs.
Sweet Pea doesn’t stop pounding into you, his fingers still moving roughly against your clit, twisting and pinching, rubbing in fast circles to make you see stars. It only prolongs your release, stretching your climax until you’re twitching against him, moaning his name. White, hot light blinds your vision, your legs quivering around his hips as you shudder around him, sucking him in deeper and clenching down tightly, his thrusts becoming frenzied.
You pant his name and his hips snap forward against yours, his cock twitching inside of your as he pushes into you roughly, spilling himself deep inside of you, hips continuing to rock against yours slowly for several long moments.
His forehead drops onto your shoulder, arms slipping around you as he pulls you into an embrace that’s softer that expected, both of you breathing heavily. Your thumbs rub circles into the spot between his shoulder blades as you nuzzle his ear, panting against him and simply trying to catch your breath.
“So,” Sweet Pea starts, still trying to catch his breath as he lets his hands wander along your back, a finger dragging down your spine and making you arch into him, sensitive to the touch, “do you wanna finish the game, or do are you just gonna give me your panties now?”
You muffle a giggle against his shoulder, swatting at his arm as his laughter shakes you both.
Tag List (ask to be included OR reblog): @requested-memory, @serpentsweetspea, @southsidewrites, @sweetfogarty, @candyshellbell, @mari-cross, @wintersoldierbaby, @damfino-anything, @spazclaiire, @rosesandthornbushes, @sexxxychiq, @southsideglitter, @sweetpeasbabydoll, @humangrumpycat, @cupcakelyss, @i-like-it-like-that-262, @noirefemefatale, @madaboutlili, @sweetwaterprincess, @spokenforimagines, @lonely-full-of-secrets, @sweetpeas-sweetpea, @poolpartyingwithjaws, @worriestothewind, @sedanleystanley, @chipster-21
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howsermax · 6 years ago
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Thoughts on Pet Sematary (2019)
So I saw Pet Sematary in theaters a few days back, and I’ve gotta say, I was deeply, deeply disappointed. While I love the 1989 film about as much as I love the book, with the screenplay for the film being one of the only good screenplays written by King himself, it was admittedly in dire need of an upgrade. From Louis Creed’s hilarious line delivery, to the obvious switching to a Chucky-style doll during certain scenes with Gage, to the cinematography, the problems with the 1989 version of the flick were only in execution. The story could have been kept entirely the same (with a more ambiguous, book accurate ending), and it could have been an amazing remake. But instead, we got a very disappointing film.
First, I’ll go over what I liked. The cinematography, while gray, was still pretty creative at times in terms of camera movement. All the actors do a pretty good job for the most part, however, Ellie only does a good job after she dies. The practical effects were all pretty amazing, even though Ellie could have used a little more rot. The score is also pretty memorable and interesting. Surprisingly, the movie makes a few changes to the source material I actually really welcome. For example, the Zelda storyline is changed up in a way where it makes more sense why Rachel’s feeling of disgust towards Zelda added to her guilt by making Zelda’s death directly involve Rachel’s reluctance to interact with her. The Zelda flashbacks also have very creative transitions. However, those are all the praises I can really sing for this movie.
The writing is the most noticeable flaw with this movie. The characters never once talk like real people, they simplify story concepts way too often (for example, Rachel’s feelings of guilt in the first place are barely explored), and the movie brings up it’s themes of coping with death and loss in the most amazingly ham-fisted and basic ways possible. After Ellie asks about what will happen when Church dies, Rachel and Louis share a conversation IN PRIVATE about whether or not they believe in the afterlife. The movie quite literally decides it’s going to directly tell the audience that the character who is a surgeon doesn’t believe in the afterlife. Keep in mind, this isn’t really written into any other aspects of his character. I really don’t think these writers passed Screenwriting 101.
But on the other hand, the movie also has a recurring tendency to forget to write about the themes of the story altogether. For example, Pascow is criminally underused in this movie. You may remember in the original movie, Pascow was extremely important, as he spent his screen time trying to stop Louis from trying to cross the barrier between life and death, so Louis can learn to accept death. However, Remake Pascow is the most vague, boring, cookie-cutter horror movie ghost you can imagine, complete with never explaining what he means, and not influencing the events around him. Pascow also doesn’t appear at all during the ending. The writers genuinely don’t understand the importance he serves to the themes of the story. But his underuse is the least of this movie’s problems.
Now, I don’t have a problem with just the concept of changing things from book/old movie to movie. It’s necessary at times, and this remake has some welcome changes up it’s sleeve. However, this movie is almost entirely full of unnecessary changes that make the movie worse in one way or another. The first one I want to talk about is the decision to have Ellie be killed on the road rather than Gage. This is something that was explicitly revealed in the trailer to anyone who remembers the original story, and what’s worse? They extensively spoke about this major plot point in the film industry press surrounding the movie before release. I get that the trailer thing is a topic for a separate nerd tirade, but I can’t describe how stupid it was of these producers to talk about such a big change pre-release. Even though it’s a remake, it’s kind of alienating to movie-goers who don’t know the classic Pet Sematary story somehow. The filmmakers extensively spoke about how they made the change so that the resurrected child could be bigger and more threatening, though I think they were too weak to give us the true depressing movie we came here to watch. Because I guess movie audiences are somehow more emotional than they were 30 years ago? Comparing this attitude to how they actually put the scene together, it looks more like they were trying to pull an ol’ switcharoo on the people who know the story. Which begs the question: WHY ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT IT IN PLACES WHERE POTENTIAL MOVIE VIEWERS CAN SEE IT??
Another huge issue I have with this movie is how fucking seriously it takes itself. The original had a very light sheen of comedy to it, think something similar to An American Werewolf in London. This is extremely prevalent in the scenes involving Pascow, where he casually stands around the afterlife, contrasting against everything and everyone as a walking corpse that nobody can see. The remake genuinely lacks all intentional comedy, which makes it really really hard to actually remember the experience, or care about it. It also ends up making certain parts of the movie unintentionally funny. For example, during the scene where Louis does his internet research on the Pet Sematary, he finds a fucking newspaper clipping about a literal fucking bison being implied to have been buried in and resurrected by the Pet Sematary. I subsequently chuckled out loud in the theater, as my mind was crossed with the mental image of a grieving child lugging an entire bison to the Pet Sematary, and struggling to find a place to bury it in the already cramped cemetery.
The editing and scene pacing is legitimately the most stereotypical modern horror film schlock ever put to screen. Firstly, jumpscares are all over this film, and it’s not a look. From the Orinco trucks, to Zelda in the dumbwaiter, to Church, everything in the film is given a loud THUD effect to accompany it, and I was supplied with many Silent Hill: Revelation 3D pop-tart jumpscare flashbacks through it’s run-time. The placement of the THUDs at times felt like watching one of my Spooky Guys episodes. Again, back to Pascow being utterly useless in the story, he instead spends this film being relegated to “look at me, I’m vague and say 3 spooky sentences I repeat over and over and I’m in a modern horror film and that’s my whole character I’m scary I say stuff about ghosts and death”.
Now here’s the big one. The ending. The ending is genuinely the worst thing about the entire film. Here’s a basic summary from what I remember. So Louis buries his dead daughter and waits for her to come back as his family tries to contact him, while Gage is troubled by visions of Pascow (who does nothing of note through the whole story). Ellie comes back and catches on to the fact that she died, but Louis denies that and gives her a bath. Jud goes over and suspects that Louis has brought Ellie back from the grave, and Ellie gets mad about it and kills Jud. Rachel and Gage arrive back at the house after Louis stops returning their calls, and Rachel is greeted by an undead Ellie. Ellie thinks that Rachel doesn’t want her around anymore, and tries to kill her, Gage, and Louis. Rachel manages to allow Gage and Louis to escape, but she’s impaled and buried by Ellie. Louis puts Gage in the car and tells him to not open the door for anyone, not even Ellie. Louis faces off with Ellie in the Pet Sematary, before being killed by the now resurrected Rachel. Rachel and Ellie resurrect Louis, and for some reason unlike Ellie, Louis and Rachel are big dumb traditional zombies. At daybreak, they approach the car with a can of gasoline, having burned down Jud’s house. However, instead, they decide to unlock the car for Gage. I have a lot to say about this.
First off, this ending is fucking weak compared to the original ending. In the original film, the process of Louis killing Gage with the lethal injection is so indescribably heart-breaking. It’s actually a high point for the actor’s performance, and he definitely sells the sheer emotion of the scene. The remake’s ending definitely suffers from how frequently it fails to actually capture the emotion of the original story and film. With that, let’s just say, this movie is the prime example of why horror movies with dead protagonists fail so often. If you aren’t both careful and skilled, killing your protagonist can result in your protagonist’s character arc not being fulfilled or completed. The original Pet Sematary story has a very strong and compelling character arc for Louis. In the final scenes of the original film, after Louis has begrudgingly put down Church and Gage, and has burned Jud’s house down, he carries Rachel’s corpse with him. Pascow tries to get him to no longer try and cross the barrier between life and death, and that he needs to let go of those he loves. He needs to learn to cope with death, and understand that dead is better. Louis, however, doesn’t listen, and finds a reason to think it’ll be different this time: because she just died. Pascow realizes that Louis has failed to learn his lesson, and shouts an admittely hilarious “NOOOOOOO” as he fades away. Louis waits in his home after burying Rachel, and as she walks in, now decayed and deformed, Louis makes out with the walking corpse, before being killed by her. What works here is Louis has completed his character arc. Granted the character arc consists of failing to learn his lesson, but it’s a powerful arc no less. It drives home how much the movie is truly about being as grateful for death as we are for life, and how a life spent yearning for those who’ve passed to return is a life spent suffering. While the more ambiguous book ending is more favorable, the 1989 film version still drives home this theme extremely well.
Overall, very bad movie. Don’t waste your money on this. Save your money for Endgame, that looks good. Or if you’re a King fan, wait for It: Part 2. Just... please no more ‘80s jokes guys, it isn’t funny anymore.
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katie-dub · 6 years ago
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The Princess of White Chapel (7/12)
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Dr Killian Jones is having a terrible day. He’s got a mission, he’s got a time machine, he’s got … drunk. What could possibly go wrong?
AO3 | Tumblr
Rated M for alcohol use, violence, minor character death, frank discussions of depression and grief.
This particular chapter is a tough one for Killian - be prepared for some emotional breakdowns and distressing flashbacks.
Sorry I’m posting later than usual guys, it’s been a week. Still, I’m excited to share this chapter - thank you to all of you who are reading, reblogging and all those other lovely things, they mean a lot.
The magnificent @princesse-swan made my header - and here’s her latest gorgeous picset.
The utterly perfect @distant-rose and @ultraluckycatnd made this work better with their beta skills.
Killian was dragged from sleep by his alarm. He groaned, wishing that he could just close his eyes and forget about the world.
It had been a long time since he'd joined in the drinking on a night out with his friends, and he was certainly feeling the after effects. He may not have overindulged, but he wasn't as young as he once was - and the alcohol was only part of the issue.
The emotional hangover however was crippling.
He felt like last night he'd taken a huge leap forward on the road to recovering from the devastating loss of his first love. Only to fall and stumble backwards, losing himself in his guilt and grief.
He hadn't realised what a burden on his soul his grief had been, unable to recognise the weight of it until he met Emma. After one night of feeling like he didn't have to shoulder his pain alone anymore he felt lighter, but knowing that reprieve was only temporary also made him feel centuries older than his true age.
And there was the kiss.
Bloody hell, that kiss.
It had been perfect, passionate, and utterly impossible.
First kisses didn't feel that good, it was nonsensical. But they kissed like they had been doing it for a lifetime - for several lifetimes in fact. And he was going to have to send her home to another realm where he could not follow. Talk about unfair.
And there was the guilt that followed. He had devoted himself to Milah long ago and when he loved, it was with his whole heart - his entire being. How could he find room in his heart for someone new?
But he didn't even have to try. It hadn't been a conscious choice to fall for Emma, but somehow he was falling for her. He knew that Milah still owned a piece of his soul, had left an indelible impression on his heart, but it had somehow swelled to make room for another. He shouldn't feel bad for that, but he couldn't help himself.
He had far too many feelings for 8:15am.
Tea. He desperately needed tea, after a cup or five he might begin to start thinking more clearly. He could only hope that would happen.
It was probably for the best that he had to report to his new lab this morning and pick up the pieces of his tattered research. Throwing himself head first into a new challenge and letting it consume him utterly was his best coping mechanism, even if he now could see it for the unhealthy avoidance tactic that it was.
It wasn't a solution, merely a short term reprieve.
He finally sat up with an effort, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and pushing back the hair that was obscuring his vision. Blinking blearily, he glanced over to the chair that should have contained his clothes for the day. Except with all the drama of the previous night, he'd forgotten to get his clothes out of the room before Emma had gone to bed.
He was going to have to sneak into his own bedroom to get something to wear, without disturbing Emma from sleep and risking looking like a creep. Or what if she wasn't asleep, but just hiding from him?
Bloody hell.
His life was ridiculous.
He filled the kettle right to the top and flicked it on to boil. He busied himself with getting the pot and adding the tea bags, giving himself a few moments to find his courage. When he went so far as to wait until the kettle had actually boiled, he tried to tell himself it was just so he could get his tea brewing, but deep down he knew he was just being pathetic.
Instead of stalling any longer, he walked to the bedroom. He softly knocked on his door - just in case Emma happened to be awake - but on hearing no reply, he carefully opened the door and crept inside. He quickly found the clothes he wanted, hardly daring to breathe lest he disturb her and hurried to get back outside. As he turned to close the door behind him, he caught sight of her.
She was stunning.
She looked at peace in her sleep in a way he'd never seen while she was awake. A faint blush graced her cheeks, and her hair was a mess of waves around and over her face. She wasn't some Renaissance painting of frozen perfection. She was messier, but she was a true sleeping beauty all the same.
He only caught a glimpse of her before he turned away, feeling like he hadn't earned this intimacy. He didn't deserve her unguarded moments and probably never would. But seeing her like that? Oh how it made him wish he were a better man, someone who was worthy of a princess.
As he drank his tea and stumbled his way through his morning routine, he tried to put her out of mind. But his fantasies of her hair tickling his own nose as he woke up, her soft sigh against his cheek, would not leave him.
She still hadn't emerged by the time he had finished inhaling his slightly burnt toast and third cup of coffee. He breathed a sigh of relief as he scribbled a note - “gone to the lab, back by 7” - and pulled his door shut behind him.
He hadn’t fully processed everything that had happened last night - and he needed to concentrate on his work. Based on the way she had bolted from him after their kiss, he was fairly certain she wasn’t sure how to feel about it either. He suspected that she would prefer to act as if nothing had happened instead of having a heartfelt conversation, but doing either would be emotionally taxing and was more than he could handle right now.
After the fresh air that had breezed through the city the night before, the heat had returned with a vengeance. It was not yet 9am and already the atmosphere felt heavy. By the end of the day, Killian was sure the scent of melting tarmac would fill the air. A storm must be brewing.
As he walked through the streets, torn between rushing to get out of the suffocating air and sauntering at a leisurely pace in deference to his hungover state, he couldn’t help but wonder at how quiet the area was. There were still people around, but the place should be packed, the pavements actually overflowing with commuters at times. He never thought he’d miss having to fight his way down a street, but right now, everything felt somehow lifeless in comparison to its usual noisy, bustling state.
He reached the base of the Gherkin. He’d never had cause to go in before - uninterested in the shops and trendy bars it contained. It was an impressive sight, bearing down on him with its unusual triangular archways with their sharp points that reminded him of a crocodile’s teeth. How fitting for Gold, he thought, suppressing a shudder.
He took a deep breath that brought him no refreshment as it filled his lungs with the humid air, passed through the archway, and entered the building.
The sudden cool was a blessed relief. Before him were two sleek black desks with smiling receptionists behind them and turnstiles in between. There were textured white walls behind them. All was sparkling clean and futuristic. He looked around, unclear of what he was meant to do next.
“Dr Jones!” a man in a white coat ran towards him. He panted slightly as he arrived at Killian’s side, despite only having crossed a few yards. Killian furrowed his brow as he looked the man up and down - he looked out of place here, his thick, fuzzy beard and short, stout physique contrasting unflatteringly against the sleek, glistening surroundings. More concerning to Killian, though, was the way his eyes darted around the lobby as though he were on edge.
“Dr Smee,” he said, extending a hand for Killian to shake. “Astrophysicist and lecturer in quantum mechanics at Imperial College and your partner for as long as you need me.”
Killian took the man’s hand. It was clammy with sweat despite the pleasant temperature inside. He’s here under duress, he thought cooly. Good, he’s not entirely Gold’s man. I can work with that.
His assessment was perhaps callous, but he was going to have to trust his team, and he needed all the leverage he could get.
Smee ushered him into the lift. Even though it quickly filled up with other people, it took just minutes for them to reach the 32nd floor.
“Fastest lift in Europe,” Smee said with a smile when Killian's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the speed of their ascent.
“Impressive,” he begrudgingly admitted.
Smee led the way to glass double doors. “Welcome to your new lab, Dr Jones!” he said grandly as he used his swipe card to throw open the door.
“Bloody hell…” Killian breathed. So much for not being impressed.
Immediately in front of him were floor to ceiling windows. First a neat row of standard large rectangles, then a gap that housed impressive white triangular supports before you got to the trademark diamond windows that gave The Gherkin its distinctive shape.
And the view through the glass? Nothing short of breathtaking. A stunning panoramic vista showing what felt like all of London sprawling out from it, with its huge office blocks, grand architectural landmarks and mammoth cranes all reduced to toys by the great height.
“We have the whole 32nd floor, Dr Jones,” said Smee, noting his wide-eyed gaze, “that means 360 degree views of London, you can see Tower Bridge, St Paul’s, the Shard, the Eye, everything from here.”
He felt like he could spend forever circling the windows, gazing at the city below. He wondered briefly what Lily had looked like on Tower Bridge from up here.
“Now if you look over here -” Smee was pointing to his left - “we’ve got multiple computer banks.” They began to walk around the circular space. Large curved screens were mounted on the clean white walls, he could see everything from blueprints and coding to the latest news and twitter feeds. In front of the walls there were sleek slate grey desks with state of the art computers placed on them, alongside phones and laptops. Already there were teams of people tapping away on keys.
“How long until we have everything back from my old computers? Killian asked.
“It’s already done.”
“You restored the data already?” Killian arched his brow, framing his respect as scepticism. He didn't want them to see how impressed he truly was. Better to let them think he was doubting their ability than to show Gold that he'd won this round.
“Gold expects excellence in all things,” was the honest reply. “Of course, with Gold there were no second chances. You get the job done or call a priest to hear your final confession and read you your last rites.”
Killian nodded to show he understood, but gave no encouragement and expressed no sympathy. That was simply the price you paid for working with a crocodile. Sooner or later, he'd eat you alive.
They continued past more computers until the space opened out further. There was one last desk set apart from the wall, all the the computers on it faced towards a grand space where construction was in progress on a new machine. A team of technicians in white coats were assembling the parts efficiently, referring to plans on impressively large laptops on portable workstations.
“Well, I have to say, this is all much better than I hoped,” Killian admitted begrudgingly. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”
“I’m not sure I quite follow -” Smee began.
“For a start, anyone who leaves more than five personal items in the lab is banned, make sure that you enforce that rule.”
“I don’t see the need...”
“Am I in charge here?”
“Yes, Dr Jones, it is your research project after all.”
“I’ve seen the walk-in petri dishes that some scientists work in, anyone who treats my lab like they would their childhood bedroom has no place on my team.”
“Oh I see. It must be that I’m used to a slightly higher calibre of scientists. Ones who aren’t living some kind of clichéd man-child scientist life like bit parts in The Big Bang Theory. Imperial is ninth in the world for physical sciences after all - fourth in Europe - but I don’t think King’s College gets a look in?”
Killian scowled at Smee. He shouldn’t let this jab at his university’s reputation bother him, it was nothing more than typical local rivalry at play, but it was a bitter reminder of everything that Gold had cost him in life. It hadn’t been enough to take love and limb from him, he’d come close to destroying his career, leaving him scrabbling for funding and struggling to get published. But King’s was a decent university, he was proud to have fought back and won his role there despite the constant setbacks. But if he were to say that? To reveal that their generous benefactor was in fact a constant thorn in his side, that would sound like nothing more than sour grapes.
“I find it’s not the size of your ranking, but what you do with it that matters.” Killian smirked at Smee.
“And what have you done with it Dr Jones? I tried looking you up, but found that your published works were rather thin on the ground. It’s hard to believe that you still have funding with such a poor record.”
This was a definite power play, and one that Killian didn’t appreciate at all. Not only had he inadvertently hit a sore spot, but also Killian didn’t like that he had been left in the dark on who he was to work with, while his partners were able to do their homework. While his initial impression that Smee was not entirely comfortable working for Gold may have been accurate, he was nevertheless a clever man and not to be trifled with
But Killian Jones had trained to deal with men that were far more fearsome than the portly Dr Smee. He advanced into the man’s personal space, looking down on the man with obvious disdain.
“Let me make one thing clear to you, Smee, was it?”
“Dr Sm-”
“Right. Smee, you're only here because I allow it. You may be useful to me and I don't want to deal with the inevitable headache I'd have if I kicked you out of my lab and you ran off to tell Gold on me like a good little lackey. But don't mistake this for kindness or weakness and don't take me for a fool. If I catch even the slightest sign that you are standing in my way, I will not hesitate to end you. Not your research, not your career. You, Smee. Have I made myself clear?”
Smee swallowed hard. “Cr - cr - crystal.”
“Very well then Smee, welcome to my team.” He clapped Smee on the back, just a touch too hard to be considered truly friendly and dropped his voice. “No offense, but I can’t have a rat in my lab. It’s most unsanitary, you understand.”
Smee nodded, looking terrified. Once upon a time, Killian might have felt sorry for the man, but he'd learned the hard way to never underestimate Gold and his cronies. Smee was Gold’s man, he couldn't be trusted.
***
Despite his suspicions and total dislike of relying on Gold’s support, Killian found that he had a productive day. The reason for his machine behaving in this way eluded them all, meaning they were still far off figuring out a way to reverse the effect. But at least progress was being made on rebuilding the machine.
He stepped out onto the street at the end of the day and instantly was reminded why he sometimes hated London in the summer. There was the smell of molten tarmac on the breeze and the air felt sticky with sweat. He rolled up his sleeves, exposing the tattoo that he usually kept hidden, and unfastened a few additional buttons on his shirt, exposing more of his chest than he usually would on a work day. But considering he could see at least one lobster red tourist who’d stripped out of their shirt entirely, he felt smart in comparison.
He toyed briefly with the idea of inviting Emma for a walk after dinner down by the river where the air would be cooler. He could take her to the Southbank side, get a drink in the nook by the Golden Hind, go people watching on the grass by the Tate Modern.
She’d probably appreciate escaping the flat for a few minutes at least. I should really get her a key, he thought, and possibly a phone. She shouldn’t have to stay cooped up indoors all day. He tried not to think too much about how much he cared for her comfort - or how he was acting as though her presence might be long term - or how much he hoped it was.
A cat darted in front of him, startling him from his thoughts. He might have paid it no further attention if the creature hadn’t unfurled a pair of wings lazily and took flight. He blinked in alarm. These strange occurrences were happening ever more frequently, and once again, the streets were far quieter than he’d ever known them to be before. Something was deeply wrong in town and he was daydreaming about playing house with a princess.
Still though, providing Emma with some creature comforts was something he could do immediately and with little effort on his part. Handling arsey dragons, vanishing fairies, and dwindling crowds was firmly in the territory of mistakes that he had made and had no idea how to fix.
That fact made him deeply uncomfortable.
He was always one to admit when he was wrong, meaning that Gold’s unwillingness to ever accept responsibility for Milah’s death and do his time disturbed him greatly. When he was wrong, he would do everything in his power to make amends. But this was beyond him. The only person he could make amends to on any level was Emma.
That made his mind up for him. He knew a little place not too far out of his way where he could get a set of keys and a cheap phone. (And, if he so desired, all manner of cheap tourist crap, his dry cleaning done and, he suspected, an eighth of pot. Not that he’d know for certain, having taken no interest in recreational drugs since his mission was set. Still, it was hard to ignore the distinctive smell that wafted out of the doorway when he passed and he highly doubted that the teenagers with glazed eyes flocked there for their range of designer perfumes of dubious origin.)
He marched towards the shop, feeling as though he were wading through treacle, determined to get what Emma needed. He wondered fleetingly if he could get away with undoing a few more buttons, but decided against it as that was just a little too close to wandering the streets topless and while he didn’t mind people seeing him in that state, his British reserve kept him clothed.
Bloody hell, Emma will need more clothes too. Ruby only brought her enough to last until the weekend. We can hardly have her walking around the city dressed in only my shirt.
The image of Emma’s long legs filled his mind - and his thoughts quickly turned to the previous night of feeling her straddling him. He wondered about what might have happened if he’d kissed her again. Would she have let him? How different would his morning have been if he’d woken up in bed with her after a night of exploring each other? Would he have slipped out of bed leaving her naked and sighing for him in her sleep?
And despite himself, those thoughts stayed with him throughout his entire walk to the shop. It was only the scent of weed wafting on the breeze as he drew closer that shook him out of his uncomfortably domestic daydreams.
He wondered what it said about him that he’d been fantasising about having a life with her, and not of just having her. (Although he did think about that too.) He was on the verge of playing at living with a girl he knew he’d have to give up all too soon, after his previously doomed relationship with a married woman.
He sure knew how to pick them.
A short while later he let himself back into his flat, unsure of how exactly to bring up the set of keys that were burning a hole in his pocket and the phone that was sitting in his leather satchel.
“Swan?” he called out as he walked towards the living room, wanting to give her warning that he was home. “I’ve got s -” He stopped dead at the sight before him.
Emma was lounging on the couch with her knees up to create an easel for the drawing pad that rested against them. She was sketching and from what little he could see over her shoulder it was a simple, beautiful swan.
The image of another beautiful woman, who he’d found in that exact pose so many times before, filled his mind. His eyes misted over as he realised how faded those memories were. He knew that he’d find Milah like this and he’d creep over to see what she was drawing. She would tilt her head back to invite a kiss, but the picture was insubstantial as smoke.
Emma jumped and accidentally drew a line straight across the swan’s throat. He hadn’t even realised that he had drawn closer to her until he was a little too close for comfort.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, stepping back to a safe distance and cursing his own stupidity. This was Princess Emma Swan, golden haired beauty and badass from another realm. Not his lost love returned to life.
She scrambled to shove the art supplies on the table, looking guilty. “Oh, um, I - I hope you don’t mind - I - I wanted something to do other than watch the magic mirror -” she shook her head, eyes squeezed shut as though trying to shake the wrong wording out of her brain. “I mean, TV. These were in a drawer...”
Killian’s eyes widened as he watched her babble. Did he look angry? Had he said something harsh that he hadn’t meant to? He had thought that princesses were meant to be spoiled, but this one seemed determined to apologise for her very existence in a way he found frankly alarming.
“Swan -” he touched her arm gently, but she jumped nevertheless “- it’s okay, love. It’s about time someone used those again.”
“You don’t draw anymore?”
“They were Milah’s.”
She looked down to the tattoo on his forearm - a heart with a dagger through it with a ribbon wrapped around it bearing the name “Milah” - then to the ring on the finger of his prosthetic. She looked even more guilty at these words. “Your wife?”
“Emma, Milah and I were never married.”
“But…” Emma frowned in confusion, her eyes darting down to his ring once more. He understood her hesitance at once.
“This -” he held up his prosthetic adorned with his ring “- is my engagement ring from Milah. She was murdered the night she asked me to marry her.”
“Oh, oh fuck, I'm so sorry, I hope I didn't upset you, calling her your wife when you didn't - you couldn't -” Emma faltered and shook herself. “That's awful. I'm sorry that you didn't get to marry her. I didn't mean to make it worse. In my realm, it is customary for the man to do the asking and the woman to wear the ring.”
Killian laughed. “It is here too, but my Milah was never one for doing things the traditional way.”
***
After champagne toasts and congratulations from many strangers and waiters, and the manager absolutely insisting that their drinks were on the house, they finally floated home on a cloud of joy.
They were so wrapped up in each other that neither noticed the figures following them home. If they had, perhaps they wouldn’t have taken the shortcut through the dimly lit park that Killian had originally intended to propose in precisely because it was out of sight of inquiring eyes.
(But then again, they were hoping that perhaps they could start their private celebrations early and they didn’t want an audience. They were just so high on each other and they felt so good.)
They were pressed up against a tree when they realised their mistake.
“Well, well, well, dearie. What do we have here?”
At the sound of Gold’s voice, Killian’s whole body stiffened. He pulled his lips away from Milah’s, expecting to see fear in her eyes. He was incredibly proud to see nothing but defiance and contempt. She had come such a long way from the frightened woman in desperate need of an escape whom he first met. If it weren’t entirely the wrong time for it, he might had even chuffed a little with pride at how he had helped her to escape this man - this crocodile - so that she could become the fierce, strong, and independent woman she truly was.
He turned slowly to face Gold, moving slightly to the side so that Milah could look at her ex, but placed firmly between them, his body still close to hers.
“Go away. Nobody wants you here,” Milah spat out.
“Come now dearie. What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t congratulate you on your engagement?” His manic grin dropped and a dark scowl crossed over it. “Oh wait, a normal one. Did you really think I’d let you -” Gold’s words stopped as his eyes fell on the ring sitting on Killian’s finger. He sneered at the sight and gestured to it dramatically. “What is that?” He looked back up at Killian’s face in disgust. “Are you wearing an engagement ring too, princess? Did your true love get down on one knee? Was it everything you dreamed of as a little girl?”
Gold stepped back and gestured to one of his henchman while pointing at Killian’s ring. “I can’t have people thinking my wife has already married someone else. Get rid of that.”
With that one dismissive command, Gold condemned Killian to a life as an amputee.
At the sight of the two huge lunks advancing on him, Killian felt nothing but terror for Milah. He turned to her ever so slightly and spoke in a low voice, “Milah, you have to run!” He pleaded with his eyes for her to listen to him, to just save herself.
“No. I’m not leaving without you!” He should have known his amazing, darling love wouldn’t abandon him to his fate.
He spun back around to face his would-be attackers, stepping fully between them and Milah.
“Do whatever you want to me. Just let her go.” He summoned up all the bravado he could muster, hoping he sounded at least vaguely intimidating. One of the henchmen sneered and shrugged almost lazily, pulled out a handgun, and shot Killian through the wrist.
He dropped to one knee, crying out at the intense pain.
He couldn’t feel his hand anymore.
He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to look at his surely useless limb. Instinctively, he grabbed his wrist tight to stem the bleeding. He clenched his jaw to try to hold back his screams.
He felt Milah drop down beside him. A fresh wave of sheer panic flooded through him.
“Milah, no! Please go, I can’t lose you.”
He heard a blood-curdling cackle from somewhere nearby that made him shudder.
“Oh, I’m not going to let her go, dearie. You two have made a mockery of me for far too long. I need to make it clear to the world what happens to people who defy me.”
Killian’s eyes flew open at Gold’s words. He found himself looking straight into his Milah’s eyes. She looked at him tenderly, her eyes shining with love. She smiled. “I love you.”
No sooner were the words out of her mouth then he heard the bang of a gun. He jumped at the sound. His ears started to ring. Milah slumped against him, lifeless.
He looked up into Gold’s face, which broke out into a crocodile smile. “Congratulations, dearie!” the beast said with a flourish before disappearing into the night.
***
Emma looked shell shocked in the wake of his revelation. He could hardly blame her. Even though he was there, had seen it happen, he still often felt like it was all just a nightmare, one that he might wake from at any time.
“This man… Gold, the one who did - well, ordered, all this, he's rotting in jail now, right?”
Killian laughed bitterly. “You'd think so, wouldn't you? No. He's free. Living, breathing, and fucking up my life.”
Emma looked repulsed, her nose scrunching in distress and furrowing her brow. “Fucking up your life? He took your love and your hand, isn’t that enough?”
He shook his head and stared down at his prosthetic, muttering under his breath, “you underestimate how black his vile heart is.”
“What else could he possibly do?” she whispered, sounding as if she couldn’t bear to hear it.
“Anything he could to make my life miserable.” His tone was light hearted, as if his decade of mistreatment at Gold’s hands was nothing more than some grand farce. He looked back up at her with a poor attempt at a grin stretching his lips. Emma’s eyes met his and they were so full of concern and understanding that he couldn’t even make that half hearted attempt at pretending this was all ok. He sighed, and let his anguish of the past few days spill out of him. “I was going to save her.”
“What?”
“When we met, I told you that I had built a time machine…” He eyed her meaningfully and saw the moment that she understood, her eyes widening in alarm for the briefest moment before she caught herself and schooled her expression into something far more neutral.
“You - you were going to go back in time and stop her from dying?”
“I was going to kill the beast.” His voice was matter of fact, but a manic, bloodthirsty glee filled him at the thought and he knew that it must show on his face. “You know, he didn’t even have the guts to kill her himself? He always was a disgusting little coward, hiding behind his guards and his money and his powerful allies. I trained hard to take out those guards and then it would have just been me and him and with that dodgy leg of his, he never stood a chance.” His dreamy voice sounded strange even to him, he felt detached from everything he was saying. It was like waking up from a nightmare - as though he were finally seeing himself for what he’d become: a beast every bit as vile as the one he had hunted. He shuddered and the ripple of revulsion that spread through him at that revelation soon turned into a deep, wracking sob.
He hadn’t realised how completely his mission had kept him from feeling the pain of Milah’s passing until now. But now? He knew it was over. His pain was unleashed. There was no use denying it anymore or begging for a second chance. For years, he had been determined: he could fix it and he would. But now he knew that wasn’t the case.
He was broken.
And nothing could ever put him back together again.
He sobbed long and hard.
He gasped for breath and the gulps of air burned his throat as he forced them down.
His heart seemed to beat harder as though it was struggling against the inevitable, determined to prove that it could still work even as it shattered into a million shards of ice, brittle, fragile, and unfeeling.
He curled in on himself. He drew his knees to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He dug his fingers into his upper arms in an attempt to anchor himself and not be carried away in a tide of depression.
Time stood still.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick.
Until.
He realised there were arms around him.
Gentle fingers running through his hair.
A soft shushing and murmured reassurances in his ear.
The warmth of a firm yet tender touch.
He was swaying in time with the comforting rocking of another.
Emma.
His breathing slowed, his heart rate returned to normal, the tears subsided.
He lifted his head and saw how close Emma’s face was to his. Her eyes were closed, lost in the need to soothe him, to make everything better for him. He gazed at her in unabashed awe. She had saved him from himself.  
She seemed to feel the force of his attention, her eyes opened and she looked at him. She met his eyes and instantly shrank away from his side guiltily. He missed her presence immediately, his head throbbed and he felt alone.
“Thank you,” he managed to croak out. He coughed, his throat ached and his voice was hoarse. “I - I need water.” Emma nodded, but didn’t look back at him. He leapt to his feet to get himself a drink, eager for the excuse to leave this awkward moment behind.
He busied himself with fetching drinks for both of them and tried to ignore what had just happened.
He returned to the living room with water for the both of them and they sat in silence.
“What was she like?” Emma’s words broke the awkward tension that had filled the room. He looked at her in surprise. “I just think she must have been very special for you to have tried to time travel for her. I’d like to hear about her - if you want to tell me of course.” Still he stared at her, surprised by the kind gesture. “It kind of seems like you need someone to talk to.”
How did she understand him so well already?
His friends had always wanted to help, but they had been so eager to see him recover that he found their attention stifling. He was struggling enough to adjust to his new life as an amputee, and their need to see him move on romantically too left him feeling broken and bitter.
You’re damaged, their actions said to him. You need fixing so you can stop being a burden - so we don’t have to worry about you anymore.
He knew that this was more than a little unfair to his nearest and dearest, but logic played no part in how he felt.
And now, here was this woman, who barely knew him, who might perhaps feel threatened by the ghost of his former love, and she could see exactly what he needed. How could he ever let her go?
“Milah loved to draw,” he began and Emma smiled, encouraging him to continue. “She was always looking for adventure and just taking a photo was never enough for her. She took so many pictures but when we travelled, she would still sit and sketch the people, the scenery, the exotic and unusual details she could see around us.” He laughed a little at the thought of her, lost in her own happy world, needing the peace of her art to help her process all the wonder around her despite filling entire rolls of film with photos. “She would sketch frantically, needing to record every detail, to make it hers. Those pictures are hers.” He gestured to the framed sketches adorning the wall above the TV.
Emma stood up and examined the scenes on the wall. Markets in India, bustling and full of life, tourists crowded around the Trevi Fountain in Rome throwing their coins and casting their wishes, lovers and families and friends sharing food and drinks in the cafes that spilled into the streets in Paris. Every scene carried that same chaotic, desperate pen stroke that was her trademark, creating detailed and vibrant scenes.
“She was so talented,” she said, her voice full of awe. She stared long at the lone painting in the middle of the drawings, a simple scene of the Thames in the moonlight, the lights of London glittering on the water. She gestured to the landscape as she turned back to Killian. “I love this one.”
Killian scratched behind his ear awkwardly. “That’s actually mine.” Emma’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “It was Milah’s favourite too. She insisted that we hang it alongside her pictures, but she was the one with the true talent.”
“You’re both amazing,” she said sincerely, once again staring at the art on the walls. “Do you still paint?”
“No,” his voice was hard and Emma looked back to him, frowning with concern. “I threw away my paints when - when everything happened. I didn’t have time for painting when I had Milah to save.” His voice turned wistful. “I never could bring myself to throw out her supplies though.”
He looked away from Emma’s penetrating gaze, stood up from the couch, and crossed to a bookshelf, plucking a sketchbook from it at random. He beckoned her to sit back down beside him, and when they were both seated, he held the book out to her. She took it hesitantly and opened it.
“This was one of Milah’s sketchbooks,” he explained, and Emma began to look through the book. She smiled at the patterns with the hastily scribbled notes, “Taj Mahal, 2007, stunning detail in the marble carvings”. The quick sketches of unaware women and children were studied with care, “lonely waitress, 2005”, “cheeky boy, 2008”, “happy siblings, 2006”.
The pictures of children always made Killian’s heart clench. They had wanted a family, had talked about trying for a baby, but Milah was scared of Gold’s retribution if she were to fall pregnant. Until he had completed his PhD, and they could leave England permanently, the risks were too great. But as time went on, Milah drew more and more children, longing for what she could not yet have. (For what she worried she might never have.)
Emma lingered over the pictures of the happiest children, Killian realised curiously. She seemed as drawn to their likenesses as Milah had been. He wondered at this, but would not push her to confide in him.
Emma turned a page and gasped a little. He looked down to see a picture of himself as he slept, lying on his stomach, his head resting on his folded arms. He was naked, although the sketch stopped at his waist, where a blanket covered his modesty. The picture was intimate, not obscene, merely a study of the muscles in his back. He hadn’t noticed over the years how his physique had filled out as he built his strength in his training, but he could see at a glance how much better defined his muscles were now, compared to the somewhat gangly figure he had in his youth.
Emma stroked a finger across the image and he looked up in surprise. A blush had spread across Emma’s face. Despite himself, he grinned at the effect that this simple sketch had on her. She seemed flustered by the sight and helpless to stop herself from turning her eyes to the patch of hair on his chest exposed by his unfastened buttons.
Unthinkingly, she reached a hand out towards him. He licked his lips as his heart beat faster and swallowed hard. Tension filled the air as she ran her fingers through the dark curls of chest hair. He let out a soft sigh, barely even a sound, but it was enough for her to jump back from him as though burned.
He blinked at her, watching as she curled in on herself, embarrassed by her actions. The intimacy of the moment was too much for him and he defaulted to outrageous flirting to distance himself from it. “See something you like, love?” he teased, sticking his tongue into his cheek and quirking his brow suggestively.
“You wish,” she snorted derisively. “I need a drink.” She ran to the kitchen in the corner of the room and busied herself with noisily opening cupboards, banging around in search of refreshment.
Killian stared at her untouched water glass on the coffee table. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one struggling with what just happened.
“So what did you get up to today?” he asked brightly when Emma returned, politely ignoring the way her cheeks reddened as she spotted the second drink resting on the table. “Not been sketching all day I assume?”
“I watched the TV - very strange things appear to be happening in this realm.”
“What kind of things?” he asked, cocking his head at her with curiosity.
“The lady in the TV said that all the dogs in a place called Batter…” she trailed off, and frowned, apparently struggling to remember the name.
“Battersea Dogs Home?” Killian guessed and her eyes lit up.
“Yes! Battersea Dogs Home. They all vanished and were replaced by wolves in the night - who turned into people in the morning.”
“What?”
“Werewolves. Somehow a hundred dogs were replaced with werewolves. I take it they aren’t all that common in the Land Without Magic?”
“They're a myth as far as we're concerned.”
“Not anymore. There were some angry women on the TV arguing about whether they should be kept locked up or not.”
Killian blanched. “They wanted to keep the people in cages?”
“I think it was actually the wolves they wanted to be locked up. They just couldn't see that they're people most of the time.”
“I don’t even know why I’m surprised.”
“There also was something called meat munchers -”
“I think you mean beefeaters,” Killian cut in, trying hard to keep a straight face.
“Whatever. Guards with stupid hats. They showed a moving picture thingy of them turning into the Evil Queen’s black guards. That was just a temporary glitch though. They all seem to be back to normal now.”
“Oh well, nothing to worry about if it’s only temporary,” he said sarcastically.
Emma raised a brow at him. “That machine of yours has caused more than enough permanent damage for us to worry about.”
He had no reply for her. Like it or not, she was absolutely right.
“The ruler of this kingdom was on the news talking about the ‘chaos in the capital’ too.”
“James Nolan actually did something?” Killian asked, stunned.
Emma scrunched her nose in disgust. “No. Not unless you call making vague speeches ‘doing something’. I only really remember him because he looks like my f- like someone I know.”
Killian looked at her quizzically, but she was once again taking a deep interest in Milah’s sketches so he wouldn’t press her to explain whatever it was that she stopped herself from saying. “Nolan really should have told me he’d be making speeches. I wouldn’t have spent all that time in the lab today if I knew he was going to be sorting everything out for me. What’s a doctorate in astrophysics and quantum mechanics compared to a first class degree in bullshit?”
Emma snorted with laughter and immediately looked a little ashamed at the noise. Killian thought it was utterly delightful to hear someone so happy (and if he was the cause of that, so much the better). Especially when it seemed that she’d been on the verge of retreating into a dark funk - he’d experienced enough himself to recognise the signs.
“It’s okay to laugh at my impeccable wit, Swan, I’m naturally hilarious, it’s understandable that you can’t help yourself.”
At this she rolled her eyes, but it brought the smile back to her face as he’d hoped it would. “I was thinking actually -”
“How I got to be so witty?” He hadn’t meant it as yet another show of false bravado, genuinely confused by where her train of thought could be going, but it came off as Killian Jones, Cocky Bastard™, all the same. He cringed internally, but grinned all the same.
“Surprisingly I find other things to think about than your big head.”
“I find it hard to believe you think about anything but me, but, please, do go on.”
“Well, you see, I was thinking that perhaps Ishouldbeusingmymagictohelp.” In her rush to get her words out, Emma didn’t seem to pause in between each one, running them all together into something that was almost - but not quite - English.
“Come again? It’s the Germans who go in for the big compound words, here in Great Britain we like to breathe in between them. Makes it easier for people to understand us you see.”
“Seriously?”
He knew that her exasperation was at his teasing banter, but he couldn’t resist reacting as though her question were sincere. “Seriously, you should try it sometime.”
“God ok, I thought I should using my magic to help, happy now?” She was glaring at him and he figured that he shouldn’t want to grin in delight at her, but he couldn’t help it.
“Aye,” he said with a nod, “very happy in fact. That sounds like an absolutely marvellous idea.”
“It does?”
He was confused at her uncertainty. “Why of course it does, you rescued me from certain death at the hands of an angry dragon, I doubt there’s anything you couldn’t overcome once you put your mind to it.”
One corner of her lip quirked up into a smile almost involuntarily. “Thanks,” she breathed out, looking directly at him with genuine gratitude radiating from her.
“I don’t know what I’ll do with myself when I don’t have you around to clean up my mess.” He’d meant it as a joke, but it felt just a little too genuine. He climbed to his feet and ambled over to his leather satchel, digging out the spare keys and phone he'd bought earlier. “It's just as well I picked these up for you on my way home,” he said, dropping them in Emma's lap, “you can't save London Town if you can't leave my flat.”
Emma picked up the phone turning it over in her hands. “Is this one of those talking phone things?” she asked.
“Just a phone, love. I can set it up for you, program my number in.” He caught the blank expression on Emma's face. “You'll have a Killian button, press it and you can talk to me if you need to.”
Killian thought he caught a glimpse of something akin to amazed gratitude in her eyes, but it was quickly gone leaving just a smirk on her face. “You think I'll need to talk to you?”
“Just in case my realm with its technological wizardry confuses you.”
“There aren't any wizards in your realm,” Emma reminded him.
“You'll have no need to call for my assistance then. I'm sure you're quite capable of handling anything alone, but you don't have to.”
There was a moment of silence between them, Emma looked overwhelmed by the sentiment and he found that he did too. It shouldn't have been much, but after shutting out his friends for so long, it felt like everything. He didn't know what had happened to her, but they understood each other and he was sure this was just a little too emotional and meaningful for her, as it was for him.
“Tomorrow, we best get you some new clothes,” he said, avoiding her eyes and desperately focusing on practical concerns. “Can't have you saving the world in Ruby's pulling clothes. It's Saturday, Gold might expect me to work, but I'm not letting that wanker dictate my schedule. Now how about some dinner?” He made to stand, but she stopped him with a tug on his arm.
“I don't know how I'll ever repay you for - ”
He couldn't look at her, feeling like a fraud in the warmth of her gratitude. He didn't deserve it. “No need, I'm just cleaning up my mess.”
“Killian,” she said, but stopped and waited until he met her eyes. “It's more than that and it - ” she took a deep breath “- it matters. Thank you.”
He nodded to show he understood, but couldn't find the words. Somehow in just a few days Emma had come to mean so much to him. He would give her everything, but still it wouldn't be enough to mean that he could keep her with him. He wasn't worthy of her and he never would be.
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write-havoc · 6 years ago
Text
This Is How I Disappear Ch. 57
Summary: A girl named Chuck finds herself in the exact place she doesn't want to be, living with violent men in a desolate nursing home. After her former gym teacher finds her, will he be the savior she was looking for?
Fandom: The Walking Dead AU
Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character
Status: Ongoing
Contains: swearing, violence, sexual assault, blood, smut
Intended for readers 18+ of age only
Masterlist
Harlan had requested Chuck be on bedrest for the next few days. And Negan made sure it was strict bedrest. For two days, Negan did just about everything for Chuck, even escorting her to the bathroom when she needed to go. He also made sure to keep Chuck calm. Carson’s death had hit Chuck hard. Mainly because she felt guilty for never thanking him for everything he did for her. But Negan knew just the right things to say to make her feel better, like he always did.
When Negan had to leave the apartment to tend to his duties, which he did so begrudgingly, he insisted that Laura or Arat sit with Chuck and tend to her. Chuck had apologized to them, assuming that the woman would resent the job, but they didn’t seem to mind. In actuality, the three women had gotten to know one another quite well over the past several weeks and developed a friendly relationship between each other.
Today, Laura is on shift while Negan is out and she’s sitting on the couch flipping through a book. When Chuck sees that it’s The Soul of the Fearless Wave, she wonders how it made its way back into their bedroom. She thought that Negan had gotten rid of it long ago.
“Shit,” Laura calls out as she turns the page. “This is a good book.”
Chuck can’t help but laugh. “It’s... pretty entertaining, actually.” She just keeps it to herself that she thought it was entertaining because of how bad it is.
Chuck shakes her head, her eyes flicking down to notice a wet spot on her chest. She initially thinks that maybe she spilled a little bit of water the last time she took a drink, but when she sees another spot on the other side of her chest, she realizes what it is. “Oh,” she says aloud.
“You need somethin’?” Laura is already standing and coming forward before Chuck can stop her.
Chuck feels her cheeks turn bright red. “Uh...” She tries to cover her chest so Laura can’t see. “N-No. I’m okay.”
Laura pauses at the side of Chuck’s bed and looks down at her. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Chuck. I have a kid, remember? I know what it’s like to be pregnant.”
Chuck nods and moves her hands from her chest, exposing the expanding wet spots on her cotton nightshirt. “I guess I started to leak.”
“Is this the first time?”
“Yeah,” Chuck answers quietly. She knew that this would happen at some point, but for some reason, she still feels a little embarrassed.
“Do you have any nursing bras up here?”
“Yeah.” Chuck points to the closet. “The dresser on the left. Top drawer.”
Laura follows Chuck’s directions and comes back in with a nursing bra and a new nightshirt. “Before all this shit,” she waves a hand around, “I was a bartender in this biker bar. That where I met Niko’s father. And I worked through my entire pregnancy.” Laura gently pulls Chuck’s soiled shirt over her head and drops it on the ground. “I only took off one week when I had him. Worked up until the day they induced me.” Laura slips the nursing bra onto Chuck’s arms and fastens it behind her back.
Chuck adjusts the bra on her chest and inserts the reusable pads that Laura hands her.
“I remember the first day my boobs really started to leak,” Laura continues. “It was fuckin’ busy in the bar. And this guy was like, ‘Hey! Your tits are leaking!” And I was like, “So?! You want a beer or not?!’” Laura gets the clean nightshirt over Chuck’s head. “I didn’t have time to deal with it, so I just rocked it.”
Chuck laughs. Then she realizes that Laura had told that story to make Chuck less embarrassed about having her clean her up. “Thanks,” she says quietly.
Laura shrugs a little. “You’re welcome.” She picks up Chuck’s nightshirt from the floor and throws it in the hamper.
Before Laura walks back to the couch, Chuck calls out to her. “So Niko was just a baby when all of this started?”
“Yeah.” Laura turns around and sits down on the bed, propping herself up on the headboard beside Chuck. Though Chuck has all the pillows behind her.
“Wow. That must have been rough. I couldn’t imagine being out there with a baby,” Chuck comments. Her mind reels with the thoughts of Laura having to try to keep her son safe after the turn.
“Yup. Niko’s father died pretty early on. He saved our lives, but...” She shakes her head.
“I’m sorry, Laura.”
“It is what it is. He was a good man.” She gives a sad smile. “Negan and Simon found me and Niko and brought us here. There was probably only like twenty people here, then. Sherry and her sister were here. Most of the lieutenants, actually. And TJ.” She lets out a sigh at the mention of the man.
TJ and his group were all murdered by Eldritch and his men at the start of his attack on The Sanctuary. When all was said and done, Negan held a memorial service for the fifty or so people that died, which was rough for everyone. After the service, Negan had a small group go out to find the bodies of the men Eldritch had killed, wanting to give them all a proper burial, but they were never found. Negan had confessed to Chuck that he assumed that Eldritch let them turn and used them in his undead army. The thought had sent a chill though Chuck’s bones. Eldritch was truly an evil man for doing everything he did.
Laura continues. “But Negan was always real good to me and Niko. Even when shit was scarce, he always made sure I had enough to eat because I had to breastfeed my son. There wasn’t any formula or anything here. He was the only kid.”
“Negan has a soft spot for children.” Chuck giggles. “Don’t tell him I told you that.”
“That’s not exactly a secret.” Laura laughs. “Negan can be a scary fucker when he needs to be, but he’s good to the people that do their jobs and aren’t assholes. Everyone knows that.” She clears her throat and shifts to get more comfortable. “When I told him I wanted to be part of his soldiers as soon as he started the whole ‘saviors’ thing, he didn’t laugh in my face. He didn’t tell me I needed to just be a mother and work in the laundry. He shoved a .45 in my hands and told me to show him what I got. He never judged me. Never underestimated me. That showed me what kind of leader he would be and I’ve been following him ever since.”
Chuck smiles, happy in the knowledge of how respected her husband is here. The baby starts to move around, so Chuck moves both of her hands to her stomach.
“Pain?” Laura asks, quickly shifting into bodyguard mode.
“No. Just kicking,” Chuck answers with a smile. The baby has still been kicking regularly and Chuck takes it as a good sign that she wasn’t injured in the fall.
Laura places her hand on Chuck’s stomach to feel. “She’s a strong one!” She laughs. “You’re making me want to have another one.”
“Really?” Chuck giggles. “You don’t even have a boyfriend, do you?”
Laura shrugs. “You think that Alexandrian with the haircut is single?”
Chuck laughs, realizing Laura is talking about Eugene. “You would eat him alive!”
“You think he’d let me?” Laura waggles her eyebrows to accentuate her joke.
The next day, Harlan checks over Chuck as Negan paces their bedroom.
“Everything looks good,” Harlan says as he pulls back from Chuck. “I’d say you can be off bedrest now. We can get you down to the infirmary for an ultrasound to make sure, but I see no reason to worry anymore.”
Chuck lets out a sigh of relief.
Negan pauses his pacing to ask, “We’re good?”
Harlan nods. “Let’s get down to the infirmary just to double check. I bet Chuck won’t mind stretching her legs a little,” he teases.
Chuck giggles. “I would love to walk around.”
The ultrasound looks perfect, to everyone’s relief. When Negan and Chuck get back to their room, he squeezes her in a tight hug.
“I love you so much, baby girl,” he whispers into her hair.
“I love you, too, Negan.”
Negan pulls back to cup Chuck’s face. “Please, Chuck. Will you just take it fuckin’ easy until the baby comes? I know you want to be productive, but please stay up here. Or with me if you wanna walk around.”
Chuck knows that Negan worries about her and the baby. So despite the fact that she doesn’t want to be cooped up inside for the rest of her pregnancy, she agrees to do it. For Negan.
“Okay. I promise to take it easy.” She strokes his cheek and tips up to peck his lips.
The rest of the night, the pair cuddles up on the couch and watches movies, perfectly content and relaxed for the first time in days.
“Negan?” Chuck whispers to him when she realizes that he nodded off.
“Hmm?” is all he answers without even opening his eyes.
Chuck just stares at his face and smiles. Sometimes she can’t believe that she has this perfect man to call her own.
“We should go to bed.” She kisses his cheek.
He smiles, his eyes still closed. “Mmhmm.”
The next day, Chuck is sitting on the couch playing a video game in just a pair of shorts and her nursing bra. Though it’s a cold January day outside, Chuck finds the room hot. She knows it’s just her pregnancy, since Negan hasn’t complained and seems to be just fine in the office as he works on whatever he’s working on.
Negan walks into the bedroom and pauses. “You look hot as shit like that,” he jokes.
Chuck laughs. “Well, I am hot . But not in the way you mean.”
Negan chuckles and sits down next to her. “You’re still beautiful, baby.”
Chuck looks down at herself, definitely not finding anything beautiful. “I’m all sweaty and leaky. And it’s just gonna go downhill from here.”
Negan leans over and kisses Chuck sweetly. “No matter what, you’re still the most beautiful thing I could ever fuckin’ see.” He bends down to kiss her stomach, too.
Chuck runs her hand over his head. “You’re such a softy.”
He straightens up. “You want me to show-“
A knock on the door interrupts Negan’s thought.
“ It’s Simon. Can I come in? ” comes through the door.
“Hang on,” Negan calls out. He searches around for Chuck’s shirt, finding it thrown on one of the chairs and helps her put it on. “Alright. Come in,” he yells then sits back down next to Chuck.
Simon enters the room and gives Chuck a nod. “Hey, kiddo. How ya feeling?”
“Okay. I’m hot right now.”
“Really?” Simon raises his eyebrows. “It’s kinda chilly up here.”
“She’s running hot,” Negan comments. “What do you got, Simon?”
He starts to answer. “Rick was on the radio. He said his guys came across a pretty big settlement in the north a few days ago.” Simon flicks his gaze to Chuck for a second. “He wants you to meet them.”
Chuck looks over to Negan quickly. “No. You don’t know what’s out there. You can’t leave.”
Negan lets out a sigh. “What did Rick say about this group?”
“They’re in some big high school,” Simon relays the information. “He says they got families, children. They’re good people.”
Chuck starts to get a little upset because she knows Negan is probably going to leave. “Negan...”
Negan cups her cheek to silence her. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I don’t want to fuckin’ leave, but I’m gonna have to. I need to size these fuckers up. And I’d rather do it fuckin’ now than closer to your due date.”
Chuck’s eyes well up with tears. “But-“
“Hey,” Negan coos. “It’s safer out there now since the biters are fuckin’ slow. And the roads are pretty fuckin’ clear. Nothing to worry about, okay?”
Chuck nods. “Just... get back quickly.”
“You think I wanna be away from my girls for a goddamn second longer than I need to?” He smiles at her and it makes her smile back.
“Okay,” she quietly responds.
Negan looks up to Simon, who is still close to the door. “Radio Jesus and tell him to get here tomorrow morning. Then talk to Rick and tell him we’ll meet him at Alexandria tomorrow. Then we can all head the fuck out from there.”
Simon nods. “Sure thing.” He nods a goodbye to Chuck before exiting.
Once Simon is gone, Negan looks back to Chuck. “I know, sweetheart,” he says before she can even say anything.
“You said you wouldn’t leave.” Chuck looks up at him with wide eyes.
“Fuck. Don’t give me the eyes. I gotta go. I gotta see these people.”
She sighs. “Fine.”
“Please don’t be pissed at me.”
“I’m not. I’m just gonna be worried about you.”
He kisses her forehead. “I promise, nothing memorable will happen.”
  ——— Negan’s POV ———
Me, Dwight, Arat, and Jesus pile into a car and head out of Alexandria following Rick, Daryl, Michonne, and Carol in their car as they lead us to this new fuckin’ settlement. Rick told me that he spent a few fuckin’ days there just talking to them and getting to know their leader. He said they seem like good fuckin’ people. I’m not just gonna take his goddamn word for it, but it does make me lean toward maybe trusting this fuckin’ group. I gotta form my own opinion, though.
We pull up to this parking lot about fifty yards away from the gate to the settlement and fuckin’ wait. Oh, shit. I fuckin’ know this place. I applied for a goddamn job here right after I graduated. It’s a fancy pants fuckin’ boarding school for boys. Rutherford Academy...? Something like that. I wasn’t fuckin’ waspy enough to get hired there.
After about ten minutes, three fuckers on horseback emerge and trot to us.
“Heh,” I say aloud, no no one in particular. “I was talking about fuckin’ horses to someone a few weeks ago.”
“This way, please,” one of the guys, who’s wearing weird ass cobbled together armor, calls down to us. They lead us in through the gates and dismount.
“I’m Richard,” the tall, middle aged man calls out. “King Ezekiel asked me to show you guys around a little bit.”
I chuckle. “King?”
“Negan,” Rick chides.
I just shrug back at him. This guy here calls himself “king” and I’m not supposed to think that’s fuckin’ bullshit?
Richard glares at me. Whatever. “Follow me,” he says and turns away to lead us on the fuckin’ tour.
It’s not exactly thorough. The guy just points at buildings and says what’s inside. He says they have a fully stocked infirmary with two fuckin’ actual doctors. Big ass cafeteria with a commercial sized kitchen. Dormitory for all the residents to fuckin’ live in. And I can see for myself that they have crops, though they’re not growing right now since it’s goddamn winter. And paddocks for animals along with the stables that the school already had. Fuckin’ rich assholes.
From what I can tell, this place is fuckin’ nice. There are people moving around constantly, so they got numbers. Probably more than Alexandria. And they got a ton of kids. More than what we got back home, even. Everyone looks fuckin’ healthy and happy, so... yeah. I guess they make a good first impression. But I’m not letting my goddamn guard down completely just yet.
Richard stops us outside a building. “We wait here until King Ezekiel is ready for us.”
I fuckin’ roll my eyes which Rick sees and elbows me. “What?”
Rick rolls his eyes back at me. “Just... hear him out,” he whispers.
“Fine,” I answer.
The door opens and a guy comes out to motion for us to go inside.
“Hey, I should warn you about something before you get in there.” Rick continues to talk, but I’m not listening anymore.
My entire focus shifts to the man holding the door open for us. He’s probably in his late thirties with sandy blond fuckin’ hair, kinda portly. And he looks just like... Goddamn, that poor fucker looks exactly like-
“Negan!” Rick’s urgent voice breaks me out of my thoughts from a few steps ahead. “Are you coming?”
“Yeah,” I answer immediately. “Shit.”
We walk up the stairs and through the door, but I try not to look at that guy. I just don’t want to look at that fucker’s face.
Richard leads us through the halls and into a fuckin’ auditorium as I try to forget about that dude. All thoughts leave my fuckin’ brain, though, as my eyes immediately go to the man sitting on a goddamn throne in the middle of the stage and the thing that’s sitting beside him.
“Holy fuckin’ shit!” I yell, completely surprised. “Is that a fuckin’ tiger?!”
The animal raises its head and I swear to Christ I almost fuckin’ scream. Like, who the fuck has a goddamn tiger?! But I reel that shit in and turn my head to Rick.
“You could’ve fuckin’ told me there was an actual goddamn tiger in here.”
“I did,” Rick spits back. “You weren’t listening.”
The man on the stage clears his throat so I fuckin’ turn back to him. “Greetings, newcomers,” he calls out in a fuckin’ confident... regal , I guess, voice. “I am King Ezekiel. And this is Shiva,” he gestures to the big cat. “Welcome to The Kingdom.”
I stare at him for a moment. He doesn’t look fuckin’ real. He looks like a goddamn comic book character, with thick ass dreads and a big leather coat, holding a fuckin’ staff in one hand and a chain in the other. Not to mention, he’s sitting on a fucking throne with a goddamn tiger beside him !
“Is this fuckin’ real?” I say to no one in particular.
“Hear him out, Negan,” Rick pleads.
I turn back to Ezekiel and wait for him to start his fuckin’ spiel.
“I have heard much about you, Negan, from Rick and his men. From what he has said about the alliance between your two groups and his, I believe that joining that alliance will be beneficial to all.”
I shrug a little. This whole fuckin’ thing has thrown me for a loop. I have no idea what to fuckin’ say. “What do ya got to fuckin’ offer?” is what I settle on.
“To start, I would like to aid in your endeavor to rid this land of the abominations that have been plaguing all of us. Rick has told me about your immediate plans to corral the dead and exterminate them once the cold of winter renders them immobile. My people are very skilled at dispatching the dead, and can lend a hand to your efforts.” He looks off to his right to a big guy that I didn’t even realize was standing there. Even though he’s got a goddamn battle axe in this hands. “Jerry, would you get our guests their gifts.
The guy, who is wearing a weird ass knee length red coat, disappears off the stage and then returns with a basket in his hands. He walks up to me and hands me the fuckin’ thing.
“Consider these as a promise of things to come,” Ezekiel starts talking again and gestures to the basket. “Alas, it’s after the harvest, so proper trading of our goods will have to wait until warmer weather, but please,” he gestures to me, “take those as a token of our budding friendship.”
I look through the basket which is full of jars and cans. Some of them are marked as vegetables and some are various jams and jellies, including goddamn raspberry which is my fuckin’ favorite and haven’t had in years. “This looks fuckin’ good,” I downplay how excited I am. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna crack open that jar on the way home and eat it with my fuckin’ fingers.
Ezekiel lets out a sigh for some reason. I mean, shit’s going good so... “Rick informed me about your recent experience with a man named Eldritch. We, too, had a run in with him and about ten of his men about a year ago.”
“What?!” I bite back.
Ezekiel starts to explain. “He and his men came here disheveled and starving, telling horrendous tales of the state of things in Baltimore, to the east, where they came from. We had always stayed away from that area, ourselves, because we, too, had bad experiences there. Once Eldritch and his men got their strength back, he replayed out kindness by trying to raise a coup, but my loyal subjects showed the vehemence of their fealty and refused. We exiled him and his men after that.”
“Exiled them where?” I ask, already getting pissed.
“South,” is all he answers.
“South?” I repeat. “South, to me .”
“We never ventured south,” Ezekiel tries to make the excuse. “We didn’t know about your settlements. Or Rick’s.”
“If you had dealt with that fucker properly, none of that shit would’ve happened!” I yell.
Shiva perks up at my raised voice, but I am fuckin’ pissed, so I don’t stop.
“You have any idea what I lost because of that motherfucker? What I could’ve fuckin’ lost?!”
“Negan,” Rick puts his hand on my shoulder to calm me the fuck down.
“I am truly sorry about that,” Ezekiel states softly. “If I had known about your settlements, I wouldn’t have set him on that course. That is something I will have to live with, but I sincerely hope we can get past this for the sakes of our subjects. An expanded alliance between all of our groups will strengthen all of us.”
I’m breathing hard, but I suppose he’s right. So I nod. From the canned goods, it’s evident that they grow some shit that we don’t. Or even HIlltop. Trading with these medieval fuckers will definitely be better for us. And they got fuckin’ animals, which means more meat. Better diets for my people means better people, so I can’t really pass this shit up.
I turn back to Rick. “Eugene still got some more radio equipment?”
“Yeah,” Rick answers. “I’ve already talked to King Ezekiel about it. But I wanted to get your okay on it before we went ahead.”
“Electricity is not plentiful here,” Ezekiel explains. “We have some solar panels that power the freezers and ovens in the kitchen. But I think we can add the radio equipment and power it without problem. Being in contact with your groups will cement our alliance.”
I nod again and turn to Rick. “Get him the equipment.” I turn back to the king. “We’ll call you about when we’re gonna clear out those fuckin’ dead zones. Probably pretty soon.”
“Yes. I would be honored to help with that endeavor.” Ezekiel gives me a big smile and gestures for us to leave.
If these fuckers hold their own out in the shit, and prove to be not fuckin’ dumbasses or monsters, then come spring, we can get our trade on. And if that she goes well, an official alliance can be made.
Honestly, it fuckin’ surprises me that I’m not fuckin’ fighting with this. When I started The Sanctuary, I fully expected it to be me against the world. But working with Hilltop got me, well, Hilltop . If I told them to fuck off when Jesus first darkened my doorstep, I would’ve never taken control of them. And my people would’ve lost out on the different food they get from the hillfolk. And we’d be out a fuckin’ doctor just in time for Chuck to give birth.
If I wouldn’t‘ve worked with Alexandria, I probably wouldn’t have beat Eldritch. Rick and his guys were instrumental in that shit. As much as I want to say it was all me, it fuckin’ wasn’t. So working with these groups has been fuckin’ better for my people. So I gotta consider that shit when thinking about what I’m gonna do with The Kingdom.
As we all leave the building, that same guy is standing at the door, holding it open for us. And I just can’t deal with it anymore.
I turn back to him quickly, startling him. “What’s your name?”
“Martin Harris,” he answers.
“What’s your father’s name?”
He looks back at me, confused. “William Harris. Why?”
“He your real father?” I just gotta know...
He glares at me for a moment before answering. “Yes,” he bites back. “He’s my real father because he raised me since I was three years old. He adopted me on my fifth birthday and gave me his name. So he is my real father. Not that it’s your business.” He lets out a huff and continues on with a little fuckin’ attitude. “But if you must know about my biological father, he was a horrible man. He pulled my mother off the street while she was walking back home from bible study and raped her. Got her pregnant. She was sixteen .” He takes a breath but still looks fuckin’ pissed at me. “When the police finally found him, he was already in prison for killing his wife and almost killing his son. So excuse me if I don’t want to call that man my anything .”
I fuckin’ knew it.
“Nathan McRae,” I almost whisper. I never wanted to say that fuckin’ name ever again.
His eyes get fuckin’ big. “H-How did you know his name?”
“That fuckin’ monster was my father, too.”
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brokemultidotexe · 7 years ago
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Unexpected Pt.12
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Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Summary: You never expected your trip to Seoul to end up like it does. You didn’t expect to step off the plane and have coffee pour down your shirt. You also didn’t expect the guy to offer to show you around the city. You notice things about him that don’t quite make sense, like how he shows interest but will only see you when he has the time which is at random hours during the day and night. Who knew your only friend in Seoul would turn out to be an international star and just how difficult things could get.
Word Count: 3.6k
Warning: None
Genre: Romance/Friendship
Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 6.5 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 10.5 | 11 | 12 | 13 |
“I honestly can’t believe you’ve been hanging out with Jungkook for months. How could you not know? They’re everywhere right now. Seriously, how?” the only other friend you had in Seoul asked from your couch while you rolled your eyes as you walked back with a drink.
“I don’t know, I haven’t really watched TV and its not like I’ve gone on naver and typed in BTS. When we met all he really told me is about dance and it never crossed my mind that when he was talking about a studio that it was a recording studio.” You handed him the drink as you sat down on your couch.
“So did your talk go well?” he partially changed the subject which you were grateful for. The thought of him being a celebrity was still a weird concept and you still hadn’t figured out exactly how you felt about the whole thing. It made you nervous because, truthfully, had you known you probably would have never hung out with him. You felt bad admitting that, even if it was to yourself.
“Yeah, he explained a lot of things. I feel bad about not talking to him because it apparently really messed with him.”
“Oh it did. I was curious so I went on YouTube and they post these things called bangtan bombs which is pretty much videos of random things like them getting ready for award shows and stuff. Anyways I–”
“Please tell me you aren’t going to be that person? If you want to fanboy, please don’t do it around me. This is still really weird for me.”
“Anyways,” he proceeded, “Like I was saying, they post these bangtan bombs. I was morbidly curious to see if anything had been posted in the week you two didn’t talk to see if what he said was true. They did, and he wasn’t lying about it messing with him.” He opened his soda and took a drink.
“What are you talking about?” you had no idea what he was saying. You hadn’t searched him or his group on anything yet. You weren’t even sure you wanted to.
Jackson pulled out his phone and started typing, you rolled your eyes at him ignoring your question. But it seemed he hadn’t been ignoring your question, he had pulled up a YouTube video and handed it to you. “Just watch it.”
You bit your lip, because if you watched this you were opening pandora’s box and having to accept the fact your best friend was famous, which in turn made the boy you liked famous. You took a deep breath and pressed play, your eyes flicked up to look at Jackson who was looking at the TV to give you privacy without him watching your reaction. You turned down the volume when the video started because the background noise was really loud. They seemed to be backstage somewhere because it looked like some people were getting their makeup and hair done. You watched the frenzy and how the camera was just filming them goofing around. Your heart sank when JK finally came up on the screen. He looked horrible to you but to anyone else he would seem put together, but you could see the dark circles under his eyes and how exhausted he looked.
“Jungkookie…” a member sat down beside him and grabbed his phone which pulled out the earbuds he had in his ears. “I’m confiscating this. You staring at it every five seconds and isn’t going to magically cause them to reply to you because you keep looking.” the member stood up and JK was standing up with him to grab it back.
“Hyung, give me my phone.” his voice was low.
Jimin happen to grab the attention from the camera but you could still see JK arguing with the person who took his phone in the background. You watched as one of the taller members came up to the two of them and he had put a hand on JK’s shoulder and started talking to him.
You felt so awful as you watched him fight with someone he considered a brother. You weren’t even listening to what Jimin was saying on camera, your eyes were trained on JK. Eventually the other member handed him the phone and the two of them talked to him. JK seemed irritated but listened anyways as they talked to him. A few seconds later he walked past them and out of frame. You heard the door slam and you paused the video after that, you didn’t want to see anymore. You handed Jackson his phone back.
“I get your point Jackson.” you said begrudgingly.
“He may be famous Y/N but he’s still human. Doesn’t change who he is, so stop being so hesitant. Your friendship is obviously something he takes seriously, so stop thinking that it’s different just because people know who he is.” He took the phone back and set it on the coffee table. You wish you hadn’t talked to Jackson about everything.
“Why are you even pushing this? You used to bitch about him, don’t think I don’t remember the two of you always complaining about the other.”
“Because I was into you Y/N. I liked you and I couldn’t garner even one percent of the attention you gave him, but eventually I saw what you felt for him and it was easy to let go after that because I saw that he felt the exact same way.”
You just sat there and blinked. You remember JK mentioning that Jackson liked you but you waved it off because he was just your friend. You acknowledged the fact that Jackson was insanely attractive and he was the exact type you went for back home. But he was right, you’d always had JK on your mind and Jackson had never been on  your radar. “Jackson I–”
“Hey it’s fine. The feelings are gone and I’m perfectly fine just being friends. I’d rather have you as a friend than not have you at all.” he gave you one of his bright smiles and you felt some of the guilt lift and you smiled back at him. “But you two really need to admit your feelings to each other, it’s just painful to listen to you two deny it.”
“We’re just friends!” you exclaimed and huffed.
“Sure you are.” he rolled his eyes, “Anyways, stop keeping him at a distance and just accept that it’s part of his life. You’re not a part of it, you’re separate from his ‘famous’ life. Stop being a pansy. He invited you to meet the rest of the group, people that are important to him just like he is to you.”
“Did you just guilt trip me?”
“A little, did it work?” he smiled at you and you just glared at him. He was right, the rest of them were important to him and he was important to you. You sighed and the both of you acknowledged that you were going to agree to meet the rest of the members.
“Fine.” you grabbed your phone and opened up your texts. He had finally given you his number in case you needed to call him and it felt oddly intimate at the time. You pulled up the text message you had gotten from him asking if you would be willing to meet everyone. You typed back a quick reply letting him know that you would. Not even two minutes later you got a reply with a smiley face and a promise to call you after they finished up at the studio.
Despite Jackson being insanely blunt and calling you out on your shit you still took the time to talk to him about everything because you were still trying to sort out your feelings about everything. JK had given you the okay to talk to him about things but to not discuss anything about the other members. He was trusting Jackson because you trusted Jackson and he had promised he wouldn’t say anything. You knew Jackson wouldn’t, because he wasn’t that type of person, but it felt good that JK trusted you.
About an hour after Jackson had left JK called you, you felt nervous which was absurd. “Hey.”
“Hey!” his voice was cheerful and he seemed really happy which made you smile.
“How was practice?”
“Good, tiring as usual. Hey would you be willing to come to the studio to meet everyone? We’re all too tired to go out to eat so we ordered in here at the studio.” He sounded hopeful.
“Yeah sure I guess so.” When JK had originally brought up the topic you had been against going out to get food with them but JK had mentioned that until the members felt comfortable enough they would prefer you not to come to the dorms, which you understood, so your only option was to go eat somewhere.
“Awesome, when the Uber picks you up just tell them to bring you to the address I just text you.” His excitement helped ease your anxiety just a little bit.
You had text JK as soon as the Uber had pulled into the parking lot in the back. You thanked the driver and got out to wait by the door. You jumped when the door opened with your nerves on edge. The person that opened the door hadn’t been JK, but Jimin.
“Hey Y/N. Jungkookie had me watch his phone in case you text while he ran to the upstairs really quick.” He opened the door wider so you could step inside. You slipped past him and stood awkwardly in the hall as you waited for him to close the door.
He gave you a smile and started down the hallway. Before you reached the door you put your hand on his arm and he stopped walking to look at you.  You dropped your hand quickly, you didn’t know Jimin that well but he was the only person you had actually met. “Everyone’s okay with me being here right? I don’t want to cause anything.”
“Hey, I’m not sure what Jungkook has told you but no one is mad. Everyone was mostly shocked because he avoids girls like the plague. We’ve all talked and everyone agreed that they wanted to meet you. He wouldn’t ask you to come here if we didn’t.” He gave you a comforting smile and you nodded but didn’t say anything. He continued to lead the way and opened the door to the practice room you had been in only once before.
When you walked in you saw five people sitting on the floor talking with food cartons spread out around them and it seemed everyone was sharing. You noticed that there were only five people in the room excluding you and Jimin which means that JK hadn’t finished whatever he was doing and you were in a room with six people you didn’t even know. You wrapped your arms around your middle feeling uncomfortable. “We don’t bite.” Jimin leaned in and whispered. You could tell he was trying to make you feel better but truthfully you were mildly freaking out.
“Oh hey!” the voice made you jump but it gave you instant comfort, “I was hoping I’d be done before you got here.” you turned to face him and he was smiling bigger than you had ever seen. While his presence made your anxiety reduce it also alerted everyone else in the room that you were here. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You felt someone tilt your chin up and you opened your eyes to see JK looking down at you. “They don’t bite Y/N.”
“The fact that both you and Jimin said that is making me think otherwise.” You mumbled and JK laughed. He grabbed your hand and led you over to the group who had gone back to talk among themselves but you could tell all were aware you were there but seemed to be doing the best they could to make you feel more at ease.
“Okay so to make this easy,” He was now standing behind you and rested his chin on your head and had his arms around your shoulders and let you lean back into him. “We’ll go oldest to youngest, informally, since I’ve kind of talked but without names. So Jin is the old man who is sitting with five cartons of food in front him. Next is Yoongi who while looks intimidating is actually a softy.”
“We live in the same house, you realize that right?” He pointed at JK who just laughed.
“Then there’s Namjoon, he’s the leader of our group and can’t dance for shit.”
“Hey! Why didn’t Jin hyung get that description too?” he cried out and you bit your lip to try not to laugh.
“You should practice more instead of rapping.” he argued and everyone laughed.
“Then we have Hoseok our main dancer and entirely too perky.”
“I resent that.” he said with a mouth full of food.
“Next is Jimin, who you’ve already met.” Jimin gave you a small wave with a smile. “Last is Taehyung who I’ve talked to you about before, and then there’s me…your favorite. All of you know this is Y/N so let’s eat.”
JK pulled you down to the floor to sit to eat making you sit beside him. He reached over and grabbed a styrofoam container and handed it to you. Kimchi fried rice was written across the top and your stomach growled in anticipation. He handed you chopsticks while you opened it and started eating. The atmosphere was laid back and everyone talked among themselves, on occasion they would ask you a question or try and involve you in the conversation. By the end of it you had had an ongoing conversation with Hoseok and Jimin both. The three of you had gotten wrapped up in a conversation about dance, which you weren’t surprised considering the both of them were on something called the dance line with JK.
“Jungkookie actually brought her here to dance a few weeks back. From the little I saw she’s pretty good.” Jimin said to Hoseok, who told you to just call him Hobi.
He raised his eyebrows at this and looked at you and JK, “He brought you here? Wow, he must really like you then.” he joked and it looked like JK’s ears were turning red.
He coughed and continued the conversation in a different direction and told them about your extensive dancing background. You and Jimin had both studied some of the same types of dance and while you didn’t have any of the same background as Hobi you were seriously impressed when JK brought out his phone and showed you a video of the two of them dancing. You weren’t just in awe of Hobi, but you couldn’t take your eyes off JK. After talking with Jimin and Hobi you felt more relaxed and you were integrated into a conversation with everyone after awhile without even realizing it.
You ended up telling the story of just how you and JK had met, “I ended up having to throw out my favorite shirt because there was no way I was going to be able to get that coffee stain out.”
“I offered to replace it, and she told me no.”
Yoongi was shaking his head, “If you wanted her number so bad you could have asked, no reason to risk third degree burns. I’m sure she would have given it to you.”
“Meh.” you shrugged in response which made everyone laugh.
“She was the one that agreed to let me show her around Seoul that same night. She’s reckless I tell you. She even fell asleep by the Han River by herself, at night.”
This caused everyone’s eyes to land on you and you felt yourself turn red, “In my defense it wasn’t like I was trying to, I was still jet lagged!” you argued and elbowed JK in the chest with a glare.
“You left a message with the front desk if I called, I didn’t even know where you were. I found you out of pure luck.” he rubbed his chest.
“Well I didn’t exactly have your number to let you know.” you argued.
“Okay you two, geez already arguing like an old married couple.” Jin said and everyone laughed while the both of you turned a slight shade of pink.
“Let’s clean up and run through Silver Spoon one more time since Namjoon Hyung keeps messing up.”
“If all of you keep throwing me under the bus about dancing I’ll kick you all out of the group and find a new dance line.” he threatened jokingly.
Everyone started picking things up and throwing them away. You bent down to help and grabbed the last of it and walking over to the trash can on the other side of the studio. You dropped it all in the trash and Namjoon walked up beside you.
“Hey,” he got your attention, “I’m glad you decided to come. It was nice to put a face to a name and I can see why he trusted you. You’ve managed to bring out a side in him we rarely see and it’s been good for him. You mean a lot to him, so can you promise me something?”
You were confused but nodded, “Yeah sure.”
“If there’s ever a misunderstanding or an issue between you two that you’ll talk it out. I’m not sure anyone can blame you on how you reacted, especially how you found out, but he’s not one to let people in easily and it was a rough week for everyone when he thought he may lose you.”
Your face turned bright red at the mention of you not talking to him and the scene from the video popped into your head, “It was never intentional to hurt him or make him worry. I told him I just needed time to process everything. It was a lot to take in.”
Namjoon put his hand up to stop you and smiled, “You don’t have to explain, like I said no one blames you. I’m just asking that if anything ever happens that you try and at least talk it out.”
You nodded mutely and he smiled at you before walking away to join the others. You stayed there for a moment closed your eyes while taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly. You knew the conversation about last week would come up eventually, but you had let your guard down over it so it caught you off guard and guilt weighed on your chest.
You shook off the emotions and decided that you would deal with it later, that you weren’t in a position to start dealing with those emotions. You walked back over towards everyone and grabbed your phone to get ready to say bye to everyone.
“Hey where are you going?” You heard JK’s voice as he came up beside you his hand going to rest on your lower back.
“Home? You guys need to practice, remember?”
“And that means you have to go home why?” You looked at him completely confused, he just sighed. “Stay? Please. I’d like you to at least see a practice.” The both of you knew you wouldn’t be able to say no so he smiled when he heard you sigh, “There’s a hammock chair over there.” he pointed by the stereo.
You sat down on the ground not even attempting to try and gracefully sit in that hammock and you watched as they joked around before getting into a formation, “Hey Y/N, could you press play?” Hobi yelled from across the room. You stood up and looked over the stereo attempting to track down the play button. Once you saw it you pressed play and sat back down on the floor. You took your phone out idly checking messages and replied to your parents even though they were asleep. You grabbed your drink from the floor and took a sip glancing over to watch the choreography. As soon as Hobi, Jimin, and JK did their hip thrust you started coughing not expecting that move at all. You set the drink down and kept coughing and some of the guys started laughing. Once you were able to stop coughing you slid down onto the floor and pulled the hood of your hoodie over your face.
You felt your hood slowly being pulled back. JK was standing over you with a foot on either side of your body. He was leaning over with an amused look on his face, “You’re an asshole.” you mumbled and pulled your hood back down. You now understood why he wanted you to stay, and it was an evil move on his part. You couldn’t get the image out of your head even though you begged whatever higher being their was to make it go away. JK pulled your hood back again and he was still smiling, “I’m never talking to you again.” you pulled the hood back down covering your face even further causing it to expose a small part of your stomach. You felt your hoodie being tugged down before pulling at the hood again, only this time you saw Hobi and Jimin there. The other two offenders. “All three of you are dead to me.”
AN: So i honestly didn’t expect to get this out as fast, but everyone’s excitement over pt 11 got me excited so i was able to write this pretty quickly and effortlessly. I hope you all enjoyed the first meeting of reader and Bangtan. Don’t worry if the reader didn’t interact with some people, i promise it’s coming but trying to fit in SEVEN people is hard haha. The reader will have different types of relationships with each member. I hope this met everyone’s expectations I’m hoping that this is sufficient enough after the last part. I got a lot of love on pt 11 and it meant so much. To all who reblogged, i thank you from the bottom of my heart. I will have to come back and tag all you beauties later because I’m finishing this up at work and i wanna go home.
*requests are OPEN*
170 notes · View notes
snushthings · 7 years ago
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Pomegranates
Pairing: Thomas Jefferson x Reader Warning(s): Thomas is a dick, high school, (mild bullying maybe can you call it that?), fluff Word Count: 2,286
A/N: @scrabblesense loves pomegranates and i was eating some the other day and was inspired by this so here it is its so long-
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History was never a favorite of yours. It was your first class after lunch, and you had begun to look forward to the end of it. Not because of the subject (History was secretly a favorite of yours), or the teacher. No, you probably would enjoy the class if it wasn’t for one curly haired bastard. Thomas Jefferson seemed to have made it his personal vow to annoy you in any way possible. He sat behind you, his long legs taking up the space next to your desk. He would tap your chair and act like he hadn’t. He’d borrow a pencil and never return it. He’d answer questions you had raised your hand for. Hell, on the first day, Thomas even took your name tag place card you had made. He irked you to pieces. Lately, however, he’s been bringing pomegranates to lunch. His lunch lasted through both the actual lunch, and- unfortunately for you- History class. He’d noisily suck on the seeds from behind you, and flick them at your back. You probably wouldn't of noticed if some of the stray seeds hadn’t landed on your papers. Not wanting to make a scene in class, you ignored him the best you could.
It was proving to be hard, as Thomas continuously brought pomegranates every fucking day. Weeks went by where you’d end your day picking the impossibly tiny seeds from your (h/c) hair and mentally cursing out Thomas. It was bad enough to have to deal with him in one class, but suddenly, he appeared in the rest of your 7 classes. And he sat near you at lunch, now. You couldn’t escape from him! Thankfully, his friend Jemmy (you weren’t sure if that was a nickname or his actual name, but you didn't care) was in three of your now shared classes. He accompanied Thomas to lunch, but did nothing to stop his friend from pestering you.
Things got worse when he decided to start spitting the seeds at you. It was the straw that broke the camel's back, and you screamed at him for the first time.
“Can you fucking stop already?!”
Your face was red and everyone in the lunchroom turned to face you. You felt the familiar burn of embarrassment creep up your neck, but you stared Thomas down. He smirked back at you and you almost hit him. An administrator came to escort you away, and you went willingly. In your eyes, you were innocent. Thomas was the one guilty. You spent the rest of your lunch in the office, while Thomas finished up his lunch.
“Isn’t she somethin’, Jemmy?” Thomas mused, toying with the cup of uneaten seeds. He rested his chin on the back of his hand and stared in the direction of where you had left with the admin.
“It’s James.” His friend, James, corrected before he coughed into his napkin. “And I really think you should stop, Thomas. She seemed really upset.” Thomas waved him away before popping a few more seeds into his mouth and sucking them free of their juice. He spit them out on his tray before rising and tossing his garbage in the trash. James followed, saying nothing as Thomas went on and on about you. 
When he reached his History class, James left and Thomas took his seat behind you. He smiled as you shot him and angry glare. “Hey.” You snorted and turned back to your papers. Thomas rolled his eyes and brought his cup of seeds out. He popped a few into his mouth and chewed on them for a bit before he spit them at the back of your head. You snapped around and glared at him. “What will it take for you to stop, Jefferson?” You hissed at him through clenched teeth, staring into his dark eyes with a burning fire. “Go on a date with me, (Y/N).” He said, bluntly. You reeled back a bit at that, staring at him with wide eyes. “You’re kidding. You’ve got to be kidding me, Thomas.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “One date and I’ll stop, honest. My momma didn’t raise no liar.” His southern drawl made a comeback as he spoke, leaning forward in his chair to look you in the eye. You stared back skeptically, furrowing your brows as you thought over his question. “Fine. One date. If you don’t stop spitting those god awful seeds at me, I will hit you.” Thomas smiled in triumph, leaning back in his chair. He left you alone for the rest of the class, but grabbed your sleeve. You let the rest of the class filter out before you let Thomas tug you into the hall. You swatted his hand away once you were alone, and looked at him pointedly. “I’ll pick you up at your place. 7. Alright?” Thomas leaned down towards you, and you instinctively leaned away. You wrinkled your nose before pushing him back two steps. “How about we compromise and meet there. I’m not just going to give you my address for one date.” You stare back up at him, daring him to ask for your address again. You crossed your arms around your books and set your jaw. Thomas thought about your question, chewing on his lip as he did. He sidestepped to lean against the lockers, and mirrored your crossed arms. “Fine. Meet me at Red Lobster at 7. Don’t be late, babydoll.” Thomas grinned as he waved at you before pushing himself off the lockers and catching up with James, who had been quietly watching from afar. You sighed, and adjusted your backpack before heading home for the day. You had always gotten the vibe that Thomas never half-assed anything when it came to his looks, and you definitely didn’t want to show up and look under dressed. Your mother gave you a skeptical look when you said you’d be going out that night. She said nothing when you briefly appeared in the living room to grab your phone, just warning you to stay safe. You rolled your eyes before slipping on your jacket and grabbing your phone. You climbed into your beat up old Ford, and headed towards your doom. ________________ You arrived with two minutes to spare, half expecting Thomas to be late.  He wasn’t. He was waiting outside in the worst suit you’ve ever seen. It was a tacky shade of magenta, and it seemed to be made of velvet. He was leaning on a cane as he waited, and you debated driving away. It was too late for that option, as he had seen you and waved at you. You wrinkled your nose back at him as you parked; securing your car as you climbed out. After hearing the reassuring chirp, you begrudgingly made your way over to Thomas. He greeted you with another shit-eating grin. “Miss (Y/N).” Thomas smirked and took your hand; kissing your knuckles. You resisted the urge to pull your hand away, and offered him an extremely forced smile. He took your hand and looped it through his arm. You almost laughed at this; What year did he think it was? 1776? Thomas led you inside, and you were ushered by the hostess to a quiet booth in the back. You marveled at how fast you were seated, considering how many people had been waiting. “What did you do, bribe the waitress?” You slipped into your seat with a chuckle, setting your purse aside. You mentally cursed yourself for not removing your various charms and key chains beforehand. You looked so out of place with your Overwatch buttons decorating your purse strap. “Of course not, darlin’. I’ve had this reserved for a week now.” Thomas chuckled and opened his menu. You were caught off guard by this statement; staring at the mass of curls ahead of you. You picked up your own menu and hid the pink dusting your cheeks. He’d been planning this all week? Thomas cleared his throat as a waiter came to your table. You lowered your menu enough so you could look at the waiter unobstructed. “Can I get your drink orders?” You glanced at the menu, deciding to stick with water. Thomas ordered a pepsi, and you rolled your eyes. “Are we ready to order?” Thomas glanced at you, and you nodded. “Yes. I’m gonna have the Wood-Grilled Lobster.” He folded up his menu and handed it to the waiter, who turned to you. “And for you, Ma’am?” “I’ll have the Maple-Glazed chicken.” You offered the waiter a smile as you also folded and handed him your menu. He smiled back and disappeared after saying he’ll be right out with your drinks. After he was gone, Thomas turned his attention to you. You toyed with the fork on your right, refusing to meet his eyes. He cleared his throat, and leaned forward a bit. You were forced to finally look him in the eye. “C’mon, (Y/N). Don’t be so hostile, love.” You snorted, shaking your head. “I didn’t even want to come here, Jefferson. I only came because you promised to stop spitting pomegranate seeds at me.” You stared him in the eye, a small smirk playing on your lips. “But if this is what it take to get you to stop, I guess I have no choice.” Thomas frowned a bit, rolling his eyes. “Call me Thomas.” You ignored his request, taking a sip of the water when it was placed in front of you by the waiter. There was a moment of awkward silence, and Thomas spoke again. “Look. I guess I should apologize for what I did to you.” Thomas scratched the back of his neck, like this form of apology was foreign to him. You scoffed. “(Y/N). It was childish of me. I’m sorry.” You sipped your water quietly, watching the ice shift around your straw. “Can we start over? I promise I’m a great guy after you get to know me. Just ask Jemmy. Er- James.” “..... Fine.” You gave in with a sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Thomas beamed, extending his hand in a mock first meeting. “Hi, I’m Thomas Jefferson.” You eyed his hand for a moment before extending your own. “(Y/N) (L/N).” The rest of the evening went rather well. As it turned out, Thomas really was a good guy. And even more surprising, you both had a lot in common. You felt bad for being so rude to him earlier, and had apologized halfway through your meal. By the time you were finished, you and Thomas were laughing together. As you wrapped up your meal and headed out, Thomas took your hand; and you would’ve been caught blushing if your face wasn’t already red from laughing so much. As you stepped out of the restaurant, you were greeted with the frigid September air. You instantly regretted wearing the thin blue dress, but your thoughts were dismissed when Thomas dropped his ugly suit jacket on your shoulders. “Thanks...” You chirped as he escorted you to your car. The jacket was warm, and you pulled it tighter around you. Thomas had let go of your hand and opted instead to wrap an arm around your shoulder. “You’re welcome, Darlin’.”
You smiled, unlocking your car as you reached it. You turned to face Thomas, who let go of your shoulders and stuck his hands in his pockets; his tacky cane tucked under his arm. “You know... I actually had fun tonight, Thomas...” You chuckled and looked at your shoes. Thomas also chuckled, lifting your chin. “I’m glad, Princess. We must do this again sometime.” Thomas grinned, and it made you smile. A genuine smile. “Yeah.. We must.”  You stretched up on your toes to press a quick kiss on Thomas’ cheek; your cheeks darkening in a deep blush. Thomas looked stunned, and his fingertips came up to brush against where you’d kissed him. He turned to look at you with a smile on his face. “See you Monday?” You asked, opening your car door and sitting in your seat; holding his suit jacket out. “See you Monday.” He replied, pushing your hand aside and closing the door. You blinked at the magenta fabric draped over your arm. You smiled as Thomas waved before returning to his own car. You giggled as you set aside the suit jacket and headed home. Thomas Jefferson was really something. ______________ You hummed as you set the table. Your husband would be home in a few minutes, and you always wanted to make sure he ate well. Your children had helped pick ingredients at the store that afternoon, and you were pleased with the turnout. Tater-tot casserole, your mother’s homemade Mac-n-cheese, mashed potatoes, and a various assortment of fruits. One of them being Pomegranates. You smiled at the bowl of seeds, remembering the times you had hated Thomas for his fondness for the fruit.    “(Y/N)? I’m home, sugarcube!” You perked up as you heard the door open and your husband’s southern drawl echoed through your house. “I’m in here, honey!” You answered, meeting him halfway with a hug and a kiss. “Smells so good, honey. What’s for supper?” Thomas smiled eagerly, having grown accustomed to your cooking. “Well, the kids wanted Tater-tot casserole, so we’re having that. I also made my mother’s mac-n-cheese, because I know how much you love that.” You hummed as you wrapped your arm around Thomas’ waist as you both walked into the dining room. “Mashed potatoes and some fruits. Pineapple, Oranges, Strawberries, and...” You laughed. “Pomegranates.” Thomas laughed before pulling you close and kissing you hard. “Pomegranates, did you say? Thought you hated those damn things.”
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daleisgreat · 4 years ago
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Last Action Hero
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Today’s entry will result in one of the quickest turnaround times of an older movie in my backlog box yet. A couple weeks ago I noticed Uproxx posted an article on how 1993’s Last Action Hero (trailer) was way ahead of its time (click or press here for the Uproxx piece). Once I noticed this story I tracked down a BluRay copy of it off Amazon and promptly watched it within 24 hours of its delivery. I did not read the Uproxx entry yet, but I will after I finish proofing this entry to prevent it from altering my current thoughts I am about to deliver and will post a little addendum at the end of this look back at Last Action Hero for some extra insight on how my take compares with Uproxx’s. I cannot remember how many times I watched Last Action Hero as a kid, but my gut tells me it may be near the double digits. Our family had the HBO and Starz movie channels as part of our cable package back then, and the way those channels primarily were programmed back then was a specific amount of newer and older movies were highlighted each month, and they would play each movie once every day or two to the best of my recollection. I remember being stoked for Last Action Hero. The turnaround time on movies from the theater back then in the early 90s was it would take about five to six months after the cinema release for a film to hit Pay-Per-View and home video. Several months later, or roughly a year after release it would hit the premium cable movie channels like HBO, Starz and Cinemax in their original form. Another year or two after that it would be available for local and basic cable channels, but usually in an edited and censored/FCC friendly format. Our family could only afford trips to the theater and video rentals so many times a year, so if we missed a movie in either of those formats and it wound up on HBO/Starz it was kind of a guilty pleasure in my childhood boredom days to pick an anticipated movie like Last Action Hero and watch it as many times as possible the first month it was available.
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I have not seen it since then however when I was 11 and have not thought much about it since LAH is not as highly regarded as other Arnold Schwarzenegger classics even though it hit at the tail end of Arnold’s prime (which I consider to be from 1984’s original Terminator through 1994’s True Lies). When it hit theaters in 1993 I remember a ton of hype for it getting ubiquitous advertising and the requisite hot-summer-movie-licensed videogame and pinball table. The pinball table is part of the many licensed tables included in Pinball Arcade on PS4 which I also played a few rounds of before diving into the movie. In 1993 Arnold was the big name action star fresh off his Terminator 2 success. He also dabbled in the occasional comedy like Kindergarten Cop and Jingle All the Way. LAH marked Arnold’s first action comedy however. Schwarzenegger portrays big name action movie star ‘Jack Slater.’ Danny (Austin O’Brien) is Slater’s #1 fan on top of being a middle school film guru where he routinely cuts class to catch flicks at the local cinema where he is best friends with the old-timer projectionist there, Nick (Robert Prosky). Daniel is promised by Nick an after-hours exclusive showing of the wildly anticipated Jack Slater IV. To celebrate the special showing, Nick gives Danny a special ‘magical’ movie ticket that Nick states he got from legendary magician Houdini himself as a kid, but was too afraid to use it. Through cinema magic, the ticket activates and Danny is warped into the movie world of Jack Slater IV as his new reality when he winds up magically transported into the backseat of Slater’s ride in the middle of a cliché action movie car chase.
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Danny is thrilled being immersed in an action movie world filled with the clichés and tropes of the genre that he gleefully points out and references past film lore to help Jack track down his latest bad guy. Slater has none of it and takes in Danny in for questioning. Slater’s over-the-top-gruffy captain, Dekker (Frank McRae) is impressed with Danny’s knowledge and makes him Slater’s new partner. Slater begrudgingly works together with Danny to track down Slater’s current most wanted baddie, Benedict (Charles Dance). The film unravels from there in a world jam-packed with the aforementioned clichés that Danny constantly breaks the fourth wall by showing off his action movie fandom by pointing out how all the women in this universe are hyper-sexualized, indulging Slater’s gratuitous one-liners, how Slater instantly pops up from battles unscathed and how the bad guy stereotypically monologues too long to give Slater a chance to make the heroic comeback. 11 year-old-Dale was the perfect target age for LAH when I first saw it in 1994. I experienced the filmed vicariously through Danny and I was right there with Danny for how wicked it would be to magically transport alongside your movie hero in his latest summer blockbuster and helping him bust bad guys and be in the middle of an extravagant chase scenes overstuffed with special effects. I think a big part of me held off forever re-watching this again because I dismissed LAH as a satire film over the years that I loved as a kid, but thought I thought I would outgrow over the years. After my recent re-watch however, I emerged surprised how wrong I was. Seeing it with a grown-up’s set of eyes significantly helped with a new understanding of filmmaking references and other off-color jokes that went right over my childhood head. I also got a whole new appreciation of the scene where Danny takes Slater to a video store in his universe to show him how awesome he is in Terminator 2 only to instead see in that world Sylvester Stallone landed the role.
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Speaking of guest stars, the cameos are through the roof in LAH. There are some blink and you miss it surprise cameos, and then there are exponentially more in the final act where Danny takes Slater back into the ‘real’ world in time for the red carpet movie premiere of Jack Slater IV. The premiere sees the likes of Little Richard, MC Hammer, Jean Claude Van Damme and a few other recognizable celebrities of that era. Back in 1994 I was probably only lucky enough to recognize Van Damme from his role as Guile in the underappreciated Street Fighter, but reliving it again with a new set of eyes made that scene pop in a whole new way. Needless to say, Last Action Hero was a surprise delight to experience in 2020. If I had any nitpicks it is that it was not as brisk a watch as I recalled as it clocks in a little over two hours and I came out of it feeling they could have trimmed at least a good 10 minutes or so off. For as big a deal LAH was when it hit in 1993 it was a bit of a buzzkill to see the no-frills BluRay have a complete lack of extras. I would have loved all-star action movie director John McTiernan (Predator, the good Die Hard films) do a commentary track with Arnold and a few other bonus extras, but it regrettably was not meant to be. At least I have this Uproxx take I can now peruse that will have to suffice for a bonus of some degree…..
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Alrighty, I just finished the Uproxx 27 years later take on LAH and we share a lot of similarities. Uproxx’s Mike Ryan thesis is that LAH was too meta and ahead of its time in 1993, but perfect for a 2020 viewing experience. I could not agree with him more, and he grinds out the little references and meta-details more eloquently than I can here, so I highly urge you all to give his editorial a perusal. One key takeaway from Ryan’s article on why Last Action Hero came and went back then was because it made the big time mistake of releasing one week after Jurassic Park. No wonder it is not brought up with other classic Arnold films over the years. I am right there with Ryan on how LAH is an absolute marvel of a film, and if it has slipped by you all these years later then now is the perfect time to watch it in these pandemic times with zero movies hitting theaters nowadays. 1993’s Last Action Hero is the ideal 2020 summer blockbuster! BONUS EXTRAS TO COMPENSATE FOR BLURAY’S ABSENCE OF ANY Click or press here to check out this awesomely through ‘Did You Know’ style breakdown of facts and backstage filming secrects from Mental Floss Here is an incredibly thorough two part oral history of LAH complete with interview excerpts from the cast and crew And I will leave you with Cinemassacre’s ‘Rental Review’ roundtable of Last Action Hero….
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Other Random Backlog Movie Blogs 3 12 Angry Men (1957) 12 Rounds 3: Lockdown 21 Jump Street The Accountant Angry Video Game Nerd: The Movie Atari: Game Over The Avengers: Age of Ultron The Avengers: Infinity War Batman: The Dark Knight Rises Batman: The Killing Joke Batman: Mask of the Phantasm Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice Bounty Hunters Cabin in the Woods Captain America: Civil War Captain America: The First Avenger Captain America: The Winter Soldier Christmas Eve Clash of the Titans (1981) Clint Eastwood 11-pack Special The Condemned 2 Countdown Creed I & II Deck the Halls Detroit Rock City Die Hard Dredd The Eliminators The Equalizer Dirty Work Faster Fast and Furious I-VIII Field of Dreams Fight Club The Fighter For Love of the Game Good Will Hunting Gravity Grunt: The Wrestling Movie Guardians of the Galaxy Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 Hell Comes to Frogtown Hercules: Reborn Hitman I Like to Hurt People Indiana Jones 1-4 Ink The Interrogation Interstellar Jay and Silent Bob Reboot Jobs Joy Ride 1-3 Major League Man of Steel Man on the Moon Man vs Snake Marine 3-6 Merry Friggin Christmas Metallica: Some Kind of Monster Mortal Kombat Mortal Kombat Legends: Scorpions Revenge National Treasure National Treasure: Book of Secrets Not for Resale Pulp Fiction The Replacements Reservoir Dogs Rocky I-VIII Running Films Part 1 Running Films Part 2 San Andreas ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery The Secret Life of Walter Mitty Shoot em Up Slacker Skyscraper Small Town Santa Steve Jobs Source Code Star Trek I-XIII Sully Take Me Home Tonight TMNT The Tooth Fairy 1 & 2 UHF Veronica Mars Vision Quest The War Wild Wonder Woman The Wrestler (2008) X-Men: Apocalypse X-Men: Days of Future Past
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tea-and-cardigans · 7 years ago
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Can I Have A Volunteer
Hey Everyone, Here is part 2 of the social workers AU I have been working on, which was originally meant to be only a one shot but has developed into more. 😉
Part One called ‘Meeting Time’ can be found here.
Apologies for the ‘Keep Reading’ cut for mobile users. ☹
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Betty and Jughead find themselves in an unusual situation as Weatherbee searches for a volunteer.
Betty was dragging her feet as she walked back into the office. She glanced in the direction of Jughead’s desk hoping that he would be there to talk to and debrief, but could only see Kevin and Archie glued to their computer screens. She took a deep sigh, readjusting her bag on her shoulder as she made her way to the kitchen instead. She needed coffee, lots of it.
It had been the home visit from hell. They were good people in a difficult situation. They always hit the hardest. A young mum who was doing everything that she could to get her life back on track despite the poisonous family situation created by her own mother. Betty could relate. The same thing had happened with Polly and her mum and to some degree with Betty as well.
She was making her way to the kitchen when she felt an arm grab her arm and pull her into the dimly lit supply closet. Another hand was placed over her mouth to stifle her scream. Her eyes changed from fear to anger as she narrowed them at the face in front of her. Jughead. He slowly removed his hand while pressing a single finger to his lips making a shush motion.
Betty kept her voice low. “What the hell, Jughead?” Even in a whisper there was a clear edge to her voice.
“Weatherbee is looking for a volunteer.” His voice was barely above a whisper. She shook her head at him.
“So?” She looked at him incredulously. Her hand jutted on her hip.
“We are hiding,” He whispered back to her. Taking a peek out the closet door before slowly closing it shut again behind him.
“This is ridiculous.” She made a move towards the door, ready to leave him in the closet on his own. He quickly moved ahead of her within the small space blocking the door and exit. Betty widened her eyes at him letting out a frustrated groan. “I have paperwork to do Jug.”
“Look, just here me out. I was walking past Weatherbee’s office, when I happened to hear -”
“So you were eavesdropping again?” She was smirking her arms crossed across her chest.
“Yes okay I was eavesdropping it’s the only way I ever find out what was going on in this place.” Jughead tended to use his hands a lot when he was frustrated, much like now even within the small space of the closet they were gesticulating wildly. Betty was trying to hide her amusement. “Any way Archie got a complaint. A big one. So Weatherbee needs someone to shadow him.”
“So you are hiding in the supply closet?”
“And I brought you in and saved you as well Betty. You should be thanking me really.”
“And how long do you plan to stay in here for?” Betty looked around the cramped space piled high with boxes of stationery and miscellaneous forms. She was already starting to feel closed in in the small space.
“Long enough for Weatherbee to come out of his office, find a volunteer, who is not you or me. And then we sneak back out.” He crossed his arms over his chest puffing it out a little as he explained his very simple but effective plan.
“Foolproof plan then.” Betty replied.
“Of course -” Betty was about to launch into a speech into how they had just sacrificed poor Kevin to this volunteer position when they heard voices outside the door. They both pressed themselves solidly up against the door to listen. Their ears pressed against the solid door both keen to catch the words spoken on the other side.
“Who has left their storage key in the lock again?” Weatherbee’s voice boomed out across the office. Betty looked up expectantly at Jughead who already had his hand searching around his neck for the lanyard with his set of keys. “This is how things go missing people.” They heard the key turning in the lock effectively locking them within the closet. “If anyone has lost their keys they are in my office.”
“Shit.” Jughead exclaimed.
“Shit?” Betty responded her eyes now furious. “We are locked in.”
“We can just bash on the door someone will -” He raised his hand about to start when Betty grabbed it quickly moving him away from the door.
“Let us out Jug” She stabbed her finger into his chest.“Us, plural. I will let you explain why we are in a supply closet together during work time and Human Resources will have a field day.” He ran a hand down over his face slowly.
“It would look kind of bad wouldn’t it?” She slapped him on the chest before huffing over to the back of the small closet. She pulled out her phone from her bag, grateful that she still had it with her. She started typing. “What are you doing?”
“I’m texting Kevin to come and let us out.” There was none of the usual humour left in her voice. He knew she was pissed and he wanted to bring her back out of it. Like he usually did.
“See Betty I knew I saved you for a reason.” Betty just looked up at him and glared before returning to her phone. Betty sent the text and was tapping her foot as she waited for the reply, returning to glare at the reason they were stuck in the closet in the first place. The screen soon lit up in reply. “He’s coming?” Jughead moved away from the door towards Betty. Betty sighed in response turning her phone around so that Jughead could read the text for himself.
‘Fuck you guys I’m stuck with Archie heading out on a visit.’ It seemed that Weatherbee had found his volunteer.
“He’s so eloquent sometimes.” Jughead joked and Betty looked up to the ceiling as if someone up there would help her. She then slumped against the wall, her back up against the boxes of forms and documents they were required to take out for each visit. Jughead went over to join her mimicking her position up against the boxes. Betty’s phone lit up again with another message from Kevin. Betty moved her phone to between the two of them and opened the message.
‘I will let you out when I’m back. Until then you two can think about the meaning of teamwork.”
“I have so much work to do Juggie.” Betty whined, rubbing her eyes. She could already feel the beginnings of a tension headache forming behind them. She felt his fingers on her temples, and was about to tell him to remove them when he started to rub little circles and she could already feel the tension starting to wane away. It wasn’t the first time he had been able to sense when her head was pounding.
“I’m sorry, Betts. Really.” she turned her head towards him as he kept his fingers pressed to her temples, the circles he traced becoming larger and then smaller again. Her head lolled back against the boxes as her shoulders dropped.
“I know you were trying to help. Oh God that feels good.” She let out without thinking as he gently increased the pressure he was applying.
“Keep it down Cooper, you don’t want to give people the wrong impression.” A sly smirk on his face, had her blushing at her own reaction to his ministrations. But she didn’t make a move away from him or tell him to stop. She stretched her legs out in front of her only just touching the wall across from her with her toes. He tried to do the same but his legs were too long for the cramped space and he returned them to their original position. They would start cramping soon. “So anything you want to talk about?” He always knew when things were getting to her, when the world was starting to weight too heavy on her shoulders.
“Just the usual Jug. Client tries her hardest and the world just stomps all over her. Her own family stomp all over her. She has no-one and -” She blinked back the tears that she could already feel start to well. She tried so hard not to let this job get to her, but some days there was just no stopping it.
“You’re wrong Betty.” She turned to face him and his hands dropped from her head. They instead reached out to clasp one of her hands in them. She felt her pulse start to race at the intimate gesture.
“She’s got you doesn’t she?” He smiled at her roll of the eyes. “Seriously Betts. You are one of the best workers I’ve seen and trust me I’ve seen a lot. You care Betty. You genuinely care and want people to succeed. But you also want to see the best in people. And sometimes they don’t live up to those expectations. In fact they rarely do. So it’s a good thing we have people like you in this world Betty. Makes the rest of us want to be better.” Her eyes were searching his and she knew then that he meant every word that she said. It was moments like this where he wasn’t joking with her when she found herself wondering if there was something else there. If she wanted something else to be there. She noticed that he was still staring at her and she felt her skin tingle under the intensity of his gaze.
“Is that why you decided to save me from Weatherbee’s volunteer mission?” Her tone was light and playful as if trying to pull them back from where she knew they were heading. Where they had been heading for a while now.
“That, and other reasons.” He gave her a sheepish smile. Something that she was not used to seeing in the usually confident and quite frankly cocky Jughead Jones. She pressed closer into his side and he gripped her hand tighter. She was staring at his lips, she knew he noticed as his eyes flicked back up to her own.
“Other reasons?” Her other hand travelled up his arm to his neck, playing with a loose strand of hair which had managed to escape the confines of his beanie. The beanie that Weatherbee begrudgingly allowed him to continue wearing through the year. He hadn’t worn it at the Christmas Party and she felt a rush of heat run through her as she remembered the way his hair had fallen over his eyes, wild and messy yet soft underneath her fingertips. Her fingers were itching to lose themselves in those dark waves again.
“You tempt me like this Betty, in this small room I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep our relationship strictly professional. “ He was warning her giving her the opportunity to pull back. They could resume their usual playful banter instead of treading into the dangerous territory they were dancing on the edge of. He flirted, he suggested and she put on the brakes that was how things went. She bit her lip as his eyes darkened, trained on her every movement. His scent filled the small space overwhelming her and she wondered why she kept her distance. They were both consenting adults. After the day she had had she needed a release, she wanted to do something a little irresponsible, loosen the ponytail even if just for a moment. She reached up and pulled the hair tie from her hair. The loose waves falling to just below her shoulders. She shook her head slightly, before running her hand through her own golden locks and replacing it on his arm. Her eyes met his again as if in challenge as her scent undoubtedly her shampoo, coconut, filled the small space and overwhelmed his senses.
He couldn’t hold back any longer his hands moving to cup her face as his lips pressed urgently against her own. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, which was what he had planned for when he finally kissed her again. He was hungry for her as she was for him. She returned his kiss eagerly which was a mess of teeth clicking together and tongues clashing together with no hesitation on either side.
She let out a gasp when she felt his hand on her waist, pulling her body to him needing her to be closer. Her leg swung over his lap as she straddled him, her hands locked around his neck as she moved against him. She felt almost like a horny teenager the way she was moving seeking friction while her tongue continued to explore his mouth. She had been wanting this for months, ever since that damn Christmas party she knew she needed to feel him again, needed to taste him again. That night had been haunting her for months. The playful banter had not helped in the slightest, only stoking the fire between them. He moved his hands through her hair, revelling in the feeling of her silky locks between his fingers. He pulled her hair exposing her neck to him as he pressed his lips hungrily against her pulse point. She mewled at the sensation and she could only imagine his smirk at her reaction. That he was able to make her come undone so easily. She let out a moan at the sensation of his teeth against her skin and he pulled her back to meet his eyes.
“You need to be quiet Betts,” he teased. His lips returning to her neck, pressing a light teasing kiss against where he had just left a mark. Her hand reached under his beanie knocking it off his head. Her fingers finally sinking into those locks she had been fantasizing about as she watched him from her own desk. She tugged them forcing him to meet her eyes and stop his attack on her neck.
“Well why don’t you make me?” She quirked an eyebrow at him and he accepted her challenge returning his lips to hers. He didn't remember her tasting this sweet, his memories slightly altered and dulled by the effects of the alcohol he had consumed that night. His fingers reached under the hem of her sweater moving underneath to trace the skin of her hip. Smiling into her mouth at her sharp intake of breath at the contact. He moved them further up her back, fingertips brushing the soft warm skin he found there.
They heard a key shift in the lock and immediately moved away from each other as if shocked. Betty jumped up  pretending to look at a box on the far side of the wall while Jughead went to tie his laces. Betty looked at him her hands raised in question as to how that was his cover and Jughead shrugged as the door opened slowly.
Kevin poked his head in a sly smile on his face. His eyes flicked between his two colleagues. Noticing the fact that Jughead’s beanie was lying on the floor next to him and he hadn’t seemed to notice, while Betty’s hair was down and messy. Her sweater also seemed to have ridden up slightly.
“Archie forgot his badge so we had to come back. Looks like you two managed to find a way to occupy yourselves though.” The pair glanced at each other before Jughead moved to the door, peeking out before he made his way back to his desk. Betty picked up her bag from the floor before she went to move past Kevin. “Betty.”
She stopped at the sound of Kevin’s voice looking up at him. Her pupils were still dilated from the darkness of the supply closet and her incandescent rendezvous. “Your lipstick is smudged.” A blush immediately spread across her cheeks as she quickly made her way towards the toilets.
Kevin moved into the supply closet picking up the forgotten beanie from the floor. Before making his way out and locking the door behind him. He made a point to twirl the woollen cap around his finger as he walked casually past Jughead’s desk smiling as he watched him clutch his head to find nothing covering his head. He’d be keeping this little memento for a little while yet, at least until his nightmare afternoon stuck with Archie had concluded.
Part 3 - Complicate Matters
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