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dontcare77ghj · 4 years ago

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Inked

Natasha x reader x Wanda

"You know those cause cancer, right?" Mal asked, entering your office. "And you're gonna stink out your office."

"The window's open." You shrugged, exhaling slowly and sending the smoke out the open window. "And you and I both know, cancer isn't something I'm scared of."

"Yeah, yeah, death licks your boots." Mal rolled her eyes, blowing a strand of blue hair out of her eyes. "Anyway, I'm going on break, Blaine's with a customer, and we've got a walk-in."

"I'll handle it." You promised, putting out your cigarette. "You going to pick up Erin?" You asked the younger girl.

"Yeah, I'm gonna drop her off with a neighbor. May offered and wouldn't let me refuse." She told you.

"Well, here. Get Erin something sweet for me." You said, shoving a twenty into her hands.

"Y/N, I can't." Mal started, trying to give you the money back.

"I insist." You cut her off. "I want to be her favorite aunt." You shrugged, forcing her to curl her fingers around the money. "Go, get your kid, and give her a hug for me."

"Will do, boss." She nodded before leaving.

"Hi, welcome to SkinPolish. How can I help you?" You asked, entering the main room to see the back of a man. He was looking over the walls of the store but turned at your entrance.

"Just so you know, I'm not here to get stabbed a thousand times," Clint told you with a grin.

"I think your day job provides you with enough of that." You joked, wrapping your arms around him. Clint chuckled as he returned your hug, pulling you close. "It's been too long, geezer."

"I know, you've got at least four more tattoos since the last time I saw you, you hoodlum." Clint teased you.

"It's been two years, Clint. Some of us had to change our identities." You reminded him, pulling back. "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help." He told you.

"Blaine, watch the shop." You said without taking your eyes off the man before you.

"You got it, Y/N!"

"Follow me." You told Clint. You led Clint out of the front of the store and into your office. "Clint, I left when SHIELD fell. I handed in my clearance and took off." You said, lighting another cigarette. "I'm not doing any more work for them."

"Don't be like that." Clint groaned, sitting on your desk.

"First off, get the fuck off my desk. Where are the manners Laura shoved down your throat? And secondly, I can't come back. Fucking HYDRA was running SHIELD for years, and none of us knew. All our information was in their hands. Who knows what they took? I have people I care about, Clint. I can't risk anyone's lives." You told him.

"I'm not asking you to do anything for SHIELD. I'm asking you to help the Avengers." Clint explained.

"Even better, a more public job." You scoffed. "Clint, we're friends. We've been through a lot. I get why you're here, but why the fuck would I risk the people I care about for another mission?"

"Argentina." He said simply.

"That is a dick move, and you know it." You groaned, finishing your smoke.

"I do know it, but I have to use it. We need your help." Clint said, rising from your desk to stand in front of you. "We need your help, kid. I wouldn't be asking if I had another choice."

"Fine." You relented after a minute. "When do you need me?"

"Tomorrow," Clint told you. "I'll pick you up." He added before going to leave.

"You don't know where I live." You protested.

"Yeah, I do." Clint corrected you. "I'll see you at nine." He said, and with that, he was gone.

"Fuck me." You sighed, rubbing your hand across your face.

"Remind me why I agreed to this again?" You asked, watching as the Avengers Compound grew closer through the window.

"Because you love me," Clint responded cheekily.

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart." You rolled your eyes. "You never even told me what I'm needed for."

"Briefing's in half-hour," Clint told you. "Which gives you enough time to get acquainted with everyone." He added as the car slowed to a stop.

"You know how I feel about crowds of people."

"It's not a crowd. It's the team and Maria. You're fine, kid, I promise." He said.

"Fine, let's get this over with." You sighed, unclicking your belt.

"Avengers!" Clint called as the two of you moved further into the maze of a building. "I have a surprise for you all!"

"Is it a unicorn?" A male voice asked as you both entered what looked to be a meeting room.

"Even better. Gentlemen, and Wanda,"

"Smooth Barton." A redhead coughed.

"This is Y/N L/N." Clint continued his introduction. "A specialist in all fields, especially disguise, and the only reason we might do our job today."

"Oh, so I'm doing your work for you again, Barton? Nothing's changed, I see." You commented.

"Hey! That's not true! Name one time that's ever been true!"

"I can list fifty off the top of my head." You said, raising a brow at him.

"I can add sixty-seven to your list." The redhead piped in. "Natasha Romanoff." She introduced herself.

"Pleasure Agent Romanoff." You smiled. "C'mon Barton, formal introductions, please."

"Yeah, Barton. Introduce us."

"Y/N, this is Tony, Steve, Bruce, Thor, and Wanda." Clint gestured. "Are you all satisfied?"

"Not particularly, since you still haven't told me what you need my help for." You said, crossing your arms.

"You haven't even told her that. Jesus Barton." Wanda snorted.

"I was getting to that. I was waiting for you all to meet." Clint whined.

"Well, we're met." You said, taking an empty seat beside Natasha. "C'mon, what am I doing here?"

"There's a gala tonight," Natasha said, handing you a file. "A man named Jayden Reeds is going to be in attendance. Reeds has stock in several large companies, but that's just a front. Reeds actually has ties to HYDRA and deals in human trafficking. From what we've gathered, Reeds kidnaps people who will seemingly not be missed. They're then delivered to HYDRA bases around the world and never heard from again."

"Am I here to kill him? Because I can get behind that." You said, shaking your head.

"Wait till you hear the rest," Clint told you.

"There is a possibility Reeds also has his own collection. He's been spotted with several women who have all disappeared shortly after."

"What's the connection between them?" You asked.

"They're all French brunettes."

"So let me guess, my job is to go undercover tonight and see if he takes the bait. And when he does, I bring him in."

"Bingo Boingo," Tony told you.

"Well, I guess I better find a long sleeve dress. Oh, and maybe a wig."

"You know, if I didn't know better, I would have assumed your accent was real myself," Wanda commented later that night.

The mission had gone as smoothly as could be. Reeds had fallen for your act believing you to be a young French brunette on vacation in America's busiest city.

You hadn't even needed to corner him as he'd followed you into a woman's bathroom with two other men.

You hadn't given any of them a chance to move or say anything before you had them unconscious on the ground.

Now you were heading home, still decked out in your gala gown, with Natasha, Wanda, Clint, and Tony.

"It's not that good. No matter how much I practice, even my Italian's better than my French." You shrugged.

"Not that good?" Tony snorted, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. "Sweetheart, if I weren't engaged and I met you in Paris, I'd take you back to Hotel Plaza Athenee and show you a time."

"Cute, Starky boy, but you're not my type."

"I'm everyone's type."

"Sorry, hon, but I like women." You told him. "This is my stop." You added as Tony pulled over.

"You live here?" Natasha asked, looking around the neighborhood in distaste. You could understand her aversion to the area. Any one of your neighbors would move in an instant if given the choice.

"Yep." You said, unclicking your belt. "Been here since SHIELD crashed."

"Did SHIELD pay this bad?" Tony questioned you.

"SHIELD pay wasn't great, but it was something. I saved most of it, but a lot of it went to making sure Y/N Smith, the tattoo artist from the wrong side, wasn't connected with Y/N L/N, SHIELD agent." You shrugged. "Didn't see a point in moving after." You added. "This was fun. We should do it again sometime." You said, sliding out and holding the door open.

"We'll give you a call if we need someone to do all the work for us." Clint nodded.

"Great. Come by the shop if you ever want a free tattoo. Clint knows where it is."

A part of you was sure you wouldn't see any of the team again. They led much more busy lives than you did, and their schedules were forever changing.

So imagine your surprise when Natasha and Wanda entered your shop the next day just to simply chat. And they continued to do so for a week. Sometimes Clint would come, Steve had popped in for a few minutes while on a run, but Natasha and Wanda visited every day.

On the seventh day, the two came in at one in the afternoon with Tony.

"Hey, Tony. I didn't know you were coming to lunch with us." You said, continuing to lock up the shop. "I'll be ready in a couple minutes."

"Great, but there's been a slight change of plans," Natasha said, watching you closely.

"As long as foods still involved, I won't be too bothered." You shrugged.

"Food is involved. It's just going to take us a while to get to it." Tony cryptically informed you.

"Guys, I'm running on twenty minutes of sleep and caffeine. Please, no cryptics." You sighed, narrowing your eyes at the three.

"Relax, we're not trying to hurt your head." Tony chuckled. "We have something to tell you."

"But first, step this way, away from any possibly hidden weapons," Natasha said, gesturing you forward. "No-one should get a knife to the head because they shocked you."

"Haha." You rolled your eyes, walking forward. "For the record, I did that once. And Clint caught it." You added. "What did you three do?"

"Technically, Tony did it," Wanda said, pointing a thumb at the billionaire.

"Real smooth, Sabrina." Tony scoffed. "Alright, yes, I did this, but I did it out of pure kindness."

"Did what?"

"I've had all your stuff moved out of your apartment. I've had it moved into a spare room in the Compound," Tony announced.

"Put it back, Tony." You demanded, crossing your arms. "My things aren't yours to touch."

"You live in a shitty neighborhood." Tony defended himself. "You have eight security systems of your own just to keep yourself safe. You won't find a new place of your own volition, so I found one for you."

"Tony, you moved my things into the Avengers Compound." You sighed. "I'm not an Avenger."

"Yet." Tony cut you off. "You are more than qualified to join the team. The way you helped us the other night, the way you took those men out and got the information quicker than we would have done. You can be an Avenger."

"I'm not risking those closest to me." You shook your head. "I gave up Y/N L/N when I left SHIELD. I have people in my life now, civilian people, who could get hurt because of me."

"Than don't let them," Natasha said. "I've been through your records, know how many people you helped and protected. Protect those you love just as you did all the strangers. You can still lead this life as well as one where you can protect people again."

"At least try temporarily," Wanda suggested. "Give it a month trial period and see if you can remember what it feels like. If it doesn't work out, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. And if it does work, you can join our team. Please." She added, giving you puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. A trial period." You sighed, pushing your hair back. "But no more using those eyes. It's evil, and you know it." You said, pointing at the witch.

"Yes, she does." Natasha smiled, putting her arm around her girlfriend's waist. "C'mon, there's a car waiting to take us back to the Compound."

"Where Tony ordered lunch," Wanda added, putting her hand out to you to take.

"At least he did one thing right." You joked, taking her petite hand.

"Hey!"

You had been staying at the Compound for almost a month. There were four days before the end of your trial period, but you hadn't made your decision yet.

There was still a part of you that thought it would no longer be safe for the civilians in your life if you joined the team. If you entered the Avengers, you might have to give up this identity and everything and everyone that came with it.

But there was something about being around the team that ignited a spark within you. A spark you long thought had burned out. You longed for adventure, for that adrenaline rush that came with being undercover and the pride you felt at helping someone.

You were torn between two worlds. Torn between two personalities.

"Jesus Christ, you smell like an ashtray," Natasha complained as she suddenly appeared by your side. You snapped out of your daze just in time to see Natasha take the smoke out of your hand and take a drag for herself.

"Didn't know you smoked." You commented, watching her exhale the smoke slowly.

"I don't. Not anymore." Natasha shook her head. "Just couldn't resist."

"Don't expect me to kiss you until you brush your teeth," Wanda said, skipping into the room and crossing her arms as she stared at the two of you. "I want a tattoo." She announced, staring you dead in the eye.

"Okay. Do you want me to find a parlor for you in the morning? I have a couple friends who owe me a favor or two." You suggested.

"No, I want you to do it," Wanda told you firmly. "As soon as possible if you would."

"And you're sure about this?" You asked, raising a brow. "You're sure you want a tattoo and that you want me to do it?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"Alright, then. Follow me." You said, leading the two back into the Compound and into your room.

"You have a gun and inks in your room?" Natasha asked, looking your makeshift parlor over.

"Yep. Set it up the night I arrived, gave myself this the next." You said, lifting your shirt to reveal the healing tattoo on your hip.

"Geez, you know most people drink a bottle of scotch to welcome themselves to a new place? Not give themselves a tattoo." Natasha informed you.

"Probably." You nodded, beginning to set up your station. "Okay, Wanda, what did you have in mind?"

"I want the words, 'Ty namnogo bol'she' to wrap around my wrist," Wanda said, tracing around her thin wrist with her finger.

"Alright, I can definitely do that. But you might have to write it down for me. My Russian's not that great." You informed her.

"We'll have to work on that," Natasha said as Wanda began to write it down.

"Alright." You began after Wanda handed you the spelling. "Let's get started."

"I love it." Wanda smiled, watching as you gently wrapped her wrist. "It's perfect."

"I like to do my best." You grinned, putting the last of the tape down. "Make sure that stays moist. And do not scratch it under any circumstances." You instructed her as you began to shove your equipment away in plastic tubs.

"You need a better system," Natasha commented. "Yours is kind of a mess."

"I'll update my system when I change this room around." You said, looking around the nearly bare room. Everything you owned was in plastic tubs or bags. You hadn't been bothered to unpack yet.

"Does that mean you're planning on staying?" Natasha asked. "Have you made your decision yet? To join the team or not?"

"Not yet. I'm still trying to decide." You sighed, leaning against the wall. "I like not giving a shit. I like waking up in the morning and paying too much for a shitty cup of coffee. I like going to work and being around people who've never had to see the shit we have. I like not having to feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders, but I miss it.

I miss being a part of a team. I liked saving people. I enjoyed going on missions, creating new personas to get what I needed done. I miss being around people who've seen the shit I have. Who know what the weight of the world feels like.

Now I don't where to go. What I need more in my life." You told them.

"We told you, you don't need to pick one world," Wanda said, standing from her stool. "You can still save people and drink over-priced coffee. You can still be with people who share your trauma and be with those who don't. You don't have to pick one world."

"Can we help your decision along by us asking you out to dinner?" Natasha asked, breaking your pensive silence.

"Excuse me?" You asked, for once being taken aback by another person. "I think I went temporarily deaf there. Can you repeat yourself?"

"Let us take you on a date," Natasha repeated slowly. "We were thinking about dinner and wine and then a night at the opera." She said, causing your nose to scrunch up without thought.

"She's kidding." Wanda giggled. "Actually, we were thinking we get a couple beers, order a pizza, and watch a movie in our room."

"Can I pick the movie?" You asked her.

"With your crappy taste, no." Wanda shook her head.

"Okay, now she's kidding," Natasha said, taking three steps forward to stand beside her girlfriend. "Of course, you can pick the movie."

"And this wouldn't hurt your relationship?" You asked tentatively. "I wouldn't ruin what you already have?"

"You could only add." Wanda smiled.

"So, what do you say? You wanna go on a date with us?" Natasha questioned you.

"I'd love to."

"Go away.” You groaned, rolling away and under the covers into Natasha’s body.

“Wakey, wakey. Up and at ‘em you two.” Wanda ordered, pulling the blankets off the pair of you.

“Wanda!”

“Both of you will forgive me when I tell you I have coffee.” Wanda rolled her eyes, sitting on the bed beside you.

“The overpriced kind?”

“What other kind is there?” Wanda asked. “C’mon sit up or no coffee for either of you.”

“Alright, alright, we’re up.” Natasha said, sitting up with you on her chest. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I love you.” You groaned after taking the first sip of your steaming beverage.

“Are you talking to me or the coffee?”

“Can’t it be both?” You shrugged before grabbing her hand and kissing her palm softly.

“As long as there’s love for me too, it can.” Natasha told you.

“I love you too, Nat.” You promised, kissing her collarbone.

“After today’s meeting, I want you to give me a tattoo.” Natasha announced. “I don’t care where is is, but I want ‘YA zasluzhivayu lyubvi’.” She told you.

“Alright then. I like this plan.” You smiled, looking up at your girlfriend. “You know I think I’m due for some new ink myself.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you can choose for me.” You shrugged. “I trust you both, always.”

Once, you left SHIELD and it’s lifestyle behind. And then one day Clint Barton walked into your shop and brought you back into it.

He brought you back to the life you missed and brought you to Natasha and Wanda.

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years ago

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The Pretty Boy and the Purple Scarf - [Reid x Fem!OC]

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Summary: Sam is very surprised when she gets hand picked to join the BAU. She’s even more surprised to meet Dr. Spencer Reid. It’s not surprising that she would develop feelings for him...but he can’t feel the same way. Can he?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Original Character

Word Count: 7.9k

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Fluff/Smut

Content Warning: Unprotected sex, Dom!Spencer, light bondage, oral sex (female receiving), language.

A/n: This fic was a commission I did for @imjusthereformggcontent‘s birthday. She told me last night that it was “so good” and it “deserved to see the light of day.” She was being overly kind as usual, but here it is. I wrote this in second person which is a bit ooc for me. I hope y’all like it. 😊

--The Pretty Boy and the Purple Scarf--

Everything about the day you transferred from the 4th floor to the 6th floor was unexpected. You had only heard of Aaron Hotchner by reputation, but you’d never actually seen the man.

Which is why you were very surprised when he came down to the 4th floor and personally requested you be reassigned to the 6th floor; truth be told, that requested sounded more like a demand. You barely had time to gather your things before you were on the elevator upstairs.

You had been greeted by a very bubbly blonde woman in hot pink high heels. She had squealed with joy when the doors slid open and she caught sight of you.

“I knew you were the right choice!” She had chirped, teetering towards you. “Your work record is phenomenal, you passed all the background checks, and you’ve technically already taken the required psych courses to be a profiler.” She was positively shaking with excitement. “And you’re as cute a stinking button and look at your hair!”

Several minutes later the woman introduced herself as Penelope Garcia. Not only was she the technical analyst for the BAU, but she also split the responsible of communications liaison with the unit chief.

She then informed you that these duties would now be split between three people, SSA Hotchner, herself…and you.

Once the initial shock had worn off, you were thrilled. You had taken the psychology courses because you had always been fascinated by the behaviors of others. You had joined the FBI because you wanted to help people.

This was your dream job!

But you’d be lying if you said that those were the only reasons that working with the behavioral analysis unit was your dream job.

When Garcia had introduced you to the team that very first day, you clicked with every member right away. David Rossi always offered you a fatherly smile whenever he saw you, Prentiss and Garcia had invited you out to their girl’s night multiple times. Derek Morgan had taken to calling you “pretty girl” which never failed to make you smile. Even Aaron Hotchner was friendly towards you…well, as friendly as he could be. Occasionally you saw his mouth twitch whenever you made a sarcastic comment; you took that to mean that he probably liked you at least a little bit.

While that was also wonderful…it wasn’t why this was your dream job.

During that very first meeting, Garcia had introduced you to everyone in the conference room. They all smiled warmly at you and offered a handshake.

“And this is our resident genius Dr. Spencer Reid,” Garcia had introduced with a wave of her hand.

Dr. Spencer Reid was easily the most unexpected part of the day. He looked at least a few years older than you, so you were surprised that he had the doctor honorific, but the most startling thing was what he looked like. He was tall, possibly the tallest person in the room, with a slim build and unruly curly brown hair. His straight white teeth were dug into his bottom lip while he fidgeted nervously. And then there were his eyes. You now knew that they were brown with flecks of gold near the center, but in that light, they had actually looked like honey.

You offered him your hand, anticipating that he would greet you the way the others had; but nothing about Spencer Reid was ordinary.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead while he stared at your hand.

“The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering,” he informed you, much to the amusement of everyone else in the room. “It’s actually safer to kiss.”

Out of all the things you could have said in that moment, you decided to tease him. “I mean, you’re cute. I wouldn’t say no if that’s how you wanna introduce yourself.”

A choked laugh exploded out of SSA Morgan at your comment. “Oh shit!” He threw his head back and laughed loudly. “Watch out, she’s got your number, Pretty Boy!”

Pretty Boy, you thought. It definitely fits.

The rest of the team had shared in Morgan’s amusement. Even Spencer had seemed amused; amused and thoroughly embarrassed. The apples of his cheeks had turned bright red.

You just shot him a slightly awkward smile because holy fuck he was cute, especially when he was embarrassed.

Later after the rest of the team had left the conference room and returned to the bullpen, you saw Reid standing in front of the coffee station in the kitchenette.

“Hey,” you called, coming up to his side. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in there. I’m Sam.”

He offered a small smile in your direction while he poured an ungodly amount of sugar in his coffee. “Oh, you didn’t. I was 12 years old when I graduated from a Las Vegas public high school. I’m tougher than I look.”

“Dr. Reid is tougher than he looks,” you joked, crossing your arms over your chest. “Got it. I can’t promise I won’t tease you again.”

He just laughed. “If you’re going to tease me then you can just call me Spencer.”

Things had started to change about 3 weeks after that. You had finally gotten more comfortable around the team, Spencer included. True to his word, he didn’t seem to mind that you had teased him a few times over the weeks. It was all harmless stuff, of course.

“Cute tie, pretty boy” or “sweater vests are an odd choice, but I’m into it.”

Derek was thoroughly amused, telling you more than once that your remarks to Spencer were the highlight of his day and that he wished you had joined the team sooner.

Throughout all those comments, Spencer never teased you back. He’d duck his head, trying to hide the blush on his face, or he’d just smile at you.

That all changed one morning while you were standing at the coffee station. Garcia had joked that she never drank coffee before working here, but it was like the machine had some sort of hold over everyone. After almost a month here, you were starting to believe it.

You liked coffee, sure, but only if it didn’t taste too much like coffee. You were honestly concerned about people like Hotch who drank black coffee; it just seemed like they must have been through something.

“And you tease me for how much sugar I put in my coffee,” a voice said from beside you, barely able to conceal a chuckle that followed their words. “Jesus Christ, Samantha.”

You turned to smile up at him, your green eyes meeting his warm brown ones. “Nice try, pretty boy. I’m putting a perfectly reasonable amount of sugar in my coffee. I don’t use nearly as much sugar as you do.”

“Probably not,” he conceded, propping his hip up against the counter. “You’re sweet enough anyway.”

Your eyes went impossibly wide at his words, you were stunned. So stunned that you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of your throat.

Dr. Spencer Reid looked just as surprised at his words as you did, two bright pink spots appearing on the apples of his cheeks. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that,” he squeaked out, his voice laced with embarrassment.

“You’re never going to hear me complain about you flirting with me, Dr. Reid.”

“You can call me Spencer, Samantha,” he reminded.

His words were so soft you were afraid you’d misheard him. Based on the slightly awkward look on his face, you could tell you didn’t. “Okay Spencer,” you breathed out, testing how his name felt in your mouth.

He started to turn to walk away before you found your voice again. “Oh, and you can just call me Sam. Everybody else does.”

The corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile. “I know, but if it’s okay with you, I think I’d like to keep calling you Samantha.”

The tension in the air seemed to thicken at his words. How did Spencer just saying your name have this sort of effect on you? Trying to keep your composure, you just nodded. “S-sure, Spencer. You can call me Samantha if you want.”

His nervous demeanor melted away. “Good.” He had turned back around and crossed the room before you even realized what had happened.

After that day, a sort of odd friendship had started between you and Spencer Reid. What had begun as awkward flirting attempts every once in a while from him were becoming more and more frequent, and a little bit bolder in nature. You loved that he was getting more comfortable with you.

But you couldn’t ignore how things had started to shift inside you over the past few months.

Talking to Spencer was the highlight of your day. Every time he called you Samantha when the rest of the world called you Sam, you felt butterflies in your stomach. Your mood always lifted whenever you listened to him talk about something he was passionate about.

One of your favorite things was how his cheeks would turn just a bit red whenever he stopped by your desk on one of his many trips to the coffee pot.

“Hey, can I get you a cup?” He’d offer, tapping his fingers against the desk.

You’d always smirk at him. “This is a weird flirting strategy, Pretty Boy,” you’d say, your voice teasing. “Not that I mind watching you walk away.”

The first time you had made that joke it took Spencer a second to get your meaning; the moment he did he flushed beet red.

Even though he acted embarrassed by your comments, he still stopped by your desk multiple times a day. Whenever he did bring you back a cup of coffee it was always made perfectly, just the way you liked it.

It wasn’t until a few weeks ago when you realized what these shifting feelings had meant. You all were working a difficult case in South Dakota that was really getting to you. During a coffee run, Spencer brought you back a white chocolate mocha. When you’d looked up at him, your brows drawn together in confusion, he’d just smiled at you before he shuffled away.

Spencer Reid was becoming one of your best friends…and you were not so slowly falling for him.

The day after you got back to Quantico from Sioux Falls, you were back in the kitchenette, only this time you were getting your lunch. You normally ate lunch with either Spencer or Penelope, but you hadn’t seen the Pretty Boy since this morning.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts you didn’t even realize the very person you were thinking about had snuck up on you.

“What’s that?” His voice asked from beside you, causing you to jump slightly.

“Jesus, Spence,” you mumbled, embarrassed for your reaction. “Don’t sneak up on me!”

He just smiled at you, causing your heart to beat a bit faster. “You’ve never called me Spence before,” he said softly, his eyes searching your face. “Plus, I like scaring you. And you didn’t answer my question.”

It was hard to remember anything when he smiled like that. “Oh,” you said, shaking your head slightly in an attempt to clear it. “What’s what?”

He took a step closer to you. “You have something on your wrist.”

You were taken aback at first, because how the fuck did he see that? Nobody had ever seen that tattoo unless they knew it was there. It’s impossible, Garcia must have told him about it, you had reassured yourself.

His warm hands touched your arm, pulling it closer to him while his thumb traced over the almost invisible ink on your wrist.

“Is this a tattoo?” he asked softly, bending his head down to inspect it further. “I knew about the one on the back of your neck, but I didn’t know you had this one.”

You felt your stomach flutter. He had noticed the one on the nape of your neck too?

“Y-yeah,” you managed to get out. “It’s an anchor.”

Spencer made a noise of acknowledgment, his thumb still softly rubbing over the skin of your wrist. "It's interesting. You know, originally the anchor was a symbol of safety. It wasn't until years later that it got a newer meaning."

It was so hard for you to focus when he was near you, but now he was touching you too?

"Now it's a symbol of hope," he mumbled, his head lifting, his warm brown eyes locking on to your own. "It suits you, Samantha." With that, he dropped your arm and turned to get a mug for his coffee.

Now that he wasn’t invading your senses with his presence, you could gather your thoughts slightly. “How did you know about my tattoo, Spencer?”

He didn’t look up from his caffeine driven task. “A good magician never reveals his secrets,” he said cryptically.

You scoffed, earning a chuckle from him. Spencer turned; his amber-colored eyes were swirling with mischief, but also something a bit deeper. It didn't just feel like he was looking at you; it felt like he was looking into you. It felt like he really wanted to see you in the way that all people crave to be seen. He wanted to understand you.

He took a small step closer, his hand reaching up to brush over one of the green pieces in your long brown hair. “Maybe I just pay more attention to you than you think,” he whispered before he pulled away, leaving you stunned.

He was already back at his desk before you collected your thoughts.

Spencer Reid…couldn’t feel that way about you, could he?

Your feelings about Spencer were starting to seep into the front of your mind, no matter what you did to try and keep them at bay. What made matters worse is that you worked with profilers, the best profilers. How were you supposed to keep your feelings hidden from them?

You decided the best thing to do was try to put some distance between yourself and Spencer. It was extremely hard to do, considering all you wanted to do was be near him; but he just kept making these teasing little comments.

Of course, like most things in life, your plan didn’t go work out. You had been avoiding Spencer for exactly 3 and a half hours before he made his move.

You were coming out of Garcia’s lair when you felt a hand clap around your forearm, jerking you to a stop.

Now, you were normally not an overly clumsy person, but when your momentum gets shifted so quickly, it’s only natural to stumble a bit. You turned and tripped over your feet, causing you to tumble into a very warm person.

One of his large hands caught your shoulder, steading you. Your eyes traveled up, up, up, to meet the beautiful eyes of the one and only, Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Why do you insist on scaring the shit out of me?” you scolded, swatting at his chest with the back of your hand.

He looked completely unbothered. “I wouldn’t have had to scare you if you weren’t avoiding me.”

Your mouth popped open in surprise. “I’m not avoiding you!” you protested.

Spencer’s eyebrows pulled together. “Then why haven’t I seen you in the last three hours, thirty-five minutes and seventeen seconds?”

You couldn’t control your snort at his comment. “You’re so weird, do you know that?”

Something happened to Spencer's face just then; his whole expression seemed to soften somehow. "You don't mind that I'm weird though, do you, Samantha?"

Those pesky butterflies erupted in your stomach again, reminding you of your complicated feelings. You took a step back, plastering a friendly smile on your face…at least you hoped.

“You’re a weirdo, but you’re my weirdo, Spence.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s weirdo,” he quipped, shifting closer to you. You could feel the heat of his body through your clothes.

“Good, because you’re stuck with me.”

His face turned thoughtfully before he spoke again. “You know,” Spencer said quietly, taking a step closer to you. “Your eyes have some yellow in them around the center. It’s almost like they’re sunflowers.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. “Spence…you-you can’t…you can’t just say shit like that to me.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“Because it makes me feel…It just makes me feel.”

“Is that bad?”

I don’t know. “No,” you decided. “I don’t guess it is.”

Those warm brown eyes continued to scan over your face. “No more avoiding me,” he ordered, pointing his index finger at you.

“I wasn’t avoiding you!”

He stepped away then, but not before he reached out and tugged on one of the green strands in your hair. “You’re a terrible liar, Samantha,” he informed you, before walking down the hall towards the bullpen.

“I really hope I’m not,” you muttered under your breath. You had to be a good liar right now…because what if how you were feeling made you lose your best friend?

“I need the BAU team in the conference room,” Hotch’s voice boomed out across the bullpen. “Now.”

You wrinkled your nose slightly; no cases had come in today…So why are we meeting in the conference room?

“Come on, Pretty Girl,” Morgan said when he walked by your desk. “You better hustle or else I’m gonna be the one that sits beside your Pretty Boy.”

“No, you’re not,” Spencer called out. He was already walking into the conference room, his eyes fixed on your face until the moment he entered the room.

“Uh-oooohhh,” Morgan teased, his mouth in a wide smile. “Pretty Boy is getting a little territorial, miss thing. It won’t be long now.”

Your face scrunched in confusion. “Won’t be long until what?” you asked but he was already running into the conference room. “Morgan!”

No matter how much you told yourself otherwise, you couldn’t help but feel like things were slightly different with Spencer. He had never been overly affectionate with people, but you were his friend, it wasn’t all that uncommon for him to hug you or brush up against you.

It was just that he seemed to be doing it so much more often. He was always sitting beside you on the jet, at the round table, he was even coming by your desk more than usual.

What’s more, he seemed to have a bit more confidence than normal.

You were almost positive you weren’t imagining it or letting your feelings influence your judgment.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer asked, his leg extending so he could poke your shin with the tip of his converse. You had decided to sit in one of the seats at the back of the plane; you were thinking of it as an experiment to test your theory. There was no seat directly beside of you, making the closest one the seat in front of you that was faced in your direction. In all the time you had known him, Spencer had never sat back here if other seats were available.

When he boarded the jet an hour ago his eyes had sought you out immediately, making his way to that set before flopping down into it.

Well, you had thought. I’m not totally crazy.

“I’m not thinking about anything,” you insisted, your eyes never lifting from your kindle. Spencer detested that you used an e-reader, but unlike him, you didn’t exactly feel like stuffing your go bag with heavy ass books.

He huffed. “One day I’m going to punish you for lying to me, Samantha.”

Your head flew up. “What!?” you hissed out in a loud whisper.

Spencer just lowered his eyes back to his book. “You heard me.”

The case had been a quick one to solve, thankfully. You hadn’t even been in town for 2 full days and the Tulsa police had already processed the unsub’s arrest, leaving your team free to go.

You probably could have gone home tonight if it wasn’t for the storm. There wasn’t actually a storm here that was the problem, it was the one that is Quantico. No matter how homesick anyone felt, it seemed like a unanimous decision to stay here one more night.

The team had arrived back at the hotel about 15 minutes ago, meaning you had only been in your room for 5 minutes when there was a knock on the door.

You had a sinking feeling in your gut that when you opened that door, you'd be met by a pair of warm brown eyes and wild light brown curly hair. It's not that you didn't want to see Spencer; the problem was how much you did want to see Spencer. No matter how many times you told yourself that the flirting was harmless, and he didn't feel the way you did, it didn't seem like your heart had gotten the message.

Maybe it’s not him, you thought. Maybe…maybe it’s a murderer.

No such luck was to be had, of course. You opened up the door to see the smiling, painfully handsome face of Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Spencer,” you laughed out. “We’ve only been here for like 10 minutes.”

The man just nodded, stepping around you and striding into your hotel room like he had a right to be there. "Can't I come to see my best friend?"

You tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered at him calling you his best friend. “You just saw me.”

“No,” he argued. “I last saw you 8 minutes and 13 seconds before you opened your door.”

Heaving out a loud sigh, you just shook your head and continued pulling things out of your go-bag.

“You don’t mind that I’m here, do you?”

That gave you pause. He didn’t sound like the confident Spencer you’d been seeing the past few weeks. He seemed like the awkward Dr. Spencer Reid who had blushed to the roots of his hair when you made a joke about kissing him.

You shot him a soft smile. “Of course I don’t mind, Spencer. You know I just like to tease you.” He seemed relieved at your answer as he went to sit on the edge of your bed. “And you seem to like teasing me too.”

“Who said I’m teasing?”

You rolled your eyes. “If you’re gonna be in here, make yourself useful.” You handed him your phone charger. “Put that in my go bag.”

“Yes ma’am,” he muttered, not trying to hide his smile at your bossy tone. “Why am I putting this…what’s this?”

You turned your head to see the purple fabric in his hands. “A scarf? Have you never seen a scarf before?” you teased. “Some genius you are.”

His face pulled a sour look at your words that made you smile harder. “I just haven’t seen it before. I like it.” Spencer started wrapping the scarf around his neck.

“Wow, Dr. Reid,” you called out, your eyes running over his form. “Very sexy. You’re gonna drive the girls wild.”

"There's only one person I'm interested in driving wild," he said softly before he snapped back into his teasing tone. "Purple is my favorite color, you know."

You weren’t even thinking when you said, “I know, that’s why I picked it.” Spencer’s head swung in your direction, clearly surprised by your words. “Anyway,” you hurried out. “Maybe you should keep it; you look adorable Spencie.”

He hated it when anyone called him Spencie and you knew that. You had made the comment to hopefully throw him off from your confession that you picked out that scarf because it reminded you of him.

“What happened to sexy?!” he demanded. “I do not look adorable.” His beautiful face was marred by a scowl.

You put your hands on your hips, giving him an exaggerated once over. “I don’t know, you look pretty adorable to me, Spencie.”

Spencer’s eyes had taken on a different look than you weren’t used to seeing directed at you. It was the same look he always had when he was trying to solve a problem. “You really think I’m just adorable, don’t you?”

Now it was your turn to look at him oddly. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” He took a step closer to you as soon as the words left your mouth, causing you to take a step back. “What are you doing?”

“Proving I’m not adorable,” he said, his words quiet but harsh.

"How-" You never got to finish your question; before you could even realize that he was moving his right hand wrapped around your throat, using his momentum to push you back one final step until you were pressed between the wall and his body.

You blinked up at him, trying to ignore how all of this made you feel. Even in this situation, you still couldn’t believe that Spencer was actually attracted to you the way you were to him. This is probably just like his Eastwood impression, you thought.

His head was bent down, bringing his face much closer to yours than you were used to. You could see the perpetual shadows he had under his remarkable eyes, the small crease in his skin between his eyebrows.

"Is this how you prove you're not adorable?" You had tried to make your tone sound light like your heart wasn't about to beat out of your chest, but it hadn't worked. Your voice sounded breathy and curious even in your own ears.

He looked over your face one final time, looking for some sort of emotion that he must have found because the next instant his grip on your throat got slightly tighter. His face moving so much closer to yours that your noses almost brushed.

“No,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips. “This is.”

Before you could process his words, his lips finally brushed against yours. He was hesitant at first, but he grew bolder when you gasped against his mouth.

How many times had you imagined this moment? Yearned for it? And somehow the feeling of his body against yours was more than you had ever imagined. He was more than you ever imagined.

He took advantage of the gasp you let out, his kiss growing more hungry, more frantic. His body pushed into yours, his thigh coming forward to wedge between both of yours. You were vaguely aware of his hand leaving your throat, but all thought left your head when you felt both of his hands cradled your face. His thumb rubbed against your cheek while he tilted your head where he wanted it.

Spencer Reid was in complete control of this kiss, and you were getting swept away.

His tongue brushed over your bottom lip, seeking entrance to the heat of your mouth. He groaned low in his throat when you immediately opened for him, the movements of your tongue just as bold as his. When your hands came up to grip his sides, one of his hands slid to the back of your head, his long fingers tangling in your hair.

There wasn't a moment of unsureness in this kiss; Spencer kissed you like he had done it a thousand times before. Eventually, the need for air became too great, causing you to break apart. You whimpered slightly when his teeth caught your bottom lips, tugging at it while he pulled his mouth away.

“I’m not adorable,” he panted out against your mouth.

You couldn’t do anything but stare at him in wonder. “I got that.”

His thumb moved over to run against your bottom lip. “No,” he whispered, his eyes scanning yours. “I don’t think you do.”

Those words seemed to hold a greater meaning that you couldn't quite put your finger on. How was anyone's mind supposed to work correctly when this man was standing so close?

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

"Yes." Because of course, you did.

For that moment he looked unsure like he was battling with something he wanted so desperately but was too afraid to reach out and grab. "If you tell me to stop, I will."

You didn’t get to ask him what he meant before he was on you again. This kiss was filled with the same passion as the last, but his hands had begun to roam around your body. Down to your throat, over your shoulders, brushing against the sides of your breast, and the sides of your waist, until they came to the bottom of your shirt.

He pressed his thigh more firmly against the part of you that ached for this man. When you groaned into his mouth, he broke away, his mouth trailing kisses across your cheek, then down to your neck.

Spencer gripped the bottom of your shirt, his thumbs ghosting against your skin before he started pushing it up your body.

Through the fog of lust in your brain, you realized what he was doing, causing you to tense slightly. He must have felt the shift in your body because he pulled his head up from its place against your skin, his eyes searching your face.

“We don’t have to do this, Samantha,” he whispered.

“No!” Your voice came out in a rush. “No, Spence I want to. I really want to.” He smirked at your words, one of his hands coming up to brush over the green streaks in your hair, his eyes still filled with fire, but somehow so incredibly soft.

“Spence, it’s just…I don’t know…I’m not…and you’re so…you’re so hot!”

He huffed out a laugh at your words, bringing the hand that had been touching your hair over to cradle the left side of your face. “You have to know that I think you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.”

But how could you have known that?

“Samantha, you have no idea how I feel every fucking time I look at you.” He brought his mouth down again, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to both of your cheeks. “You have no idea what I want to do to you.”

You felt your breath catch. “Do it then.”

Spencer looked unsure for just a moment before he looked into your eyes again. "They really do look like sunflowers," he muttered to himself. "If you want me to stop, just tell me to stop."

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “I don’t think that’s likely.”

He just smirked down at you before his entire demeanor changed. “We’ll see. Take off your shirt, Samantha.”

You were shocked at the sudden amount of authority in his tone.

“I won’t ask again, Pretty Girl.”

You were still slightly nervous, but the pull inside of you to obey his words was so much stronger than any sort of insecurity you felt. It was if your hands moved automatically, gripping the bottom of your shirt before tugging it over your head.

Spencer’s eyes ran over your newly exposed skin, lingering over your breasts. He reached his hand out towards you, his fingers brushing from your collarbones down to the tops of your breasts. Once they reached the edge of your bra, he paused, looking at you again.

“Your skin is soft, it’s like you were made to be touched,” he mused, unwinding the scarf from his neck. “Take this off. I’ve waited long enough to see your tits.”

Shocked at his words, you once again complied immediately. When your upper body was completely bared to him, he released another groan. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

You felt yourself almost blush at his words.

“Hold your hands out.” Both of your arms extended in front of you. Your eyes went impossibly wide when he brought both off your wrists together before winding your scarf around them, binding you.

“I’d prefer to tie you to the bed, but this will have to do for now.” The scarf was secured now, but you knew you could break out of it if you needed to. “I want you to lay on the bed, raise your arms over your head.”

Once you had reached the position he had instructed, you turned to watch him. He had taken his tie off before he came to your room, leaving him in just a button-down shirt and his slacks. The placement of your arms brought your breasts higher; a sight Spencer must have enjoyed based on how long his gaze stayed there.

Before you were ready, he started removing his shirt. He looked so slim in his clothes; you hadn’t expected his body to look so well defined. Spencer Reid without a shirt was quite a sight to behold.

He joined you on the bed, his face hovering over your own. “I left my pants on because if I don’t have anything to stop me, I’m not going to be able to hold back. I’ll fuck you until you scream.”

You whimpered at his words. “Don’t worry my pretty girl, we’ll get there. But I want to savor you first. Keep your hands where they are, if you move them, I will punish you. Do you understand?”

You were struggling to think, his hands were moving over your skin again, those long fingers finally touching your breast, moving closer to your nipple.

“I asked you a question, Samantha.”

“Yes,” you responded, licking your lips.

Suddenly his fingers reached your nipple, he ghosted his thumb against the bud before he gave it a sharp pinch. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

He groaned at the sound of his honorific leaving your lips before he gave you a smile that was almost predatory. Spencer shoved your thighs apart, bringing his body to settle against you. You could feel how hard he was against you, even though all of your clothes.

He only gave you a brief, soft kiss before he started moving down your body. He wasted no time now. His lips closed over the tip of one breast while his hand cupped the other.

“Oh my god,” you moaned out, already trying to rock your body against his. That feeling got more frantic when you felt his teeth graze against you before he started to suck you into his mouth hard. His hand left your breast, moving down your stomach until he found the fastenings of your pants.

With a pop, the button sprang free; the sound of the zipper lowering was so loud in the otherwise silent room. The shifting of your hips got more and more desperate when you felt his fingertips run across the elastic band of your panties.

With one final nip of his teeth, he lifted his head, staring down at you. “Such a needy girl.” He pushed his body off of yours, coming to rest on his knees between your thighs.

His hand both moved to your sides, just above your pants. He raked his fingers down the skin until he caught the waistbands of your pants and panties. Spencer revealed you to his gaze slowly; so slowly you were afraid you would spontaneously combust.

Once he had you completely naked on the bed, he ran his hands over your legs, admiring you.

“I was right to leave my pants on,” he chuckled. “It’s taking everything I have not to wrap your thighs around me and finally fuck you.”

“Please,” you whimpered out when his hand ghosted over the skin of on the inside of your knee.

“Soon, pretty girl. But first, I’d rather find out how those thighs feel wrapped around my head.”

You forgot how to breathe at his words. He leaned down, shifting farthing down the bed. Spencer's mouth moved over the skin of your inner thighs with a trail of wet, open mouth kisses.

When he finally reached his destination, he turned his head to the side pressing one finally kiss against your thigh before his teeth caught the skin. The sensation caused you to buck your hips.

“Hold still, Samantha,” he breathed against you. “I want you to hold still while I make you cum with my mouth. Can you do that?”

You weren’t sure if you could, but you bit your lip and nodded anyway.

“That’s my good girl.” That was the last thing he said before he pressed a kiss to your pussy.

His tongue ran against the entirety of your slit once before he parted you with his thumbs. “Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re so wet, pretty girl. You’re absolutely soaked for me.”

Even if you had wanted to respond to his words, you couldn’t have, because right after he finished speaking his tongue tapped against your clit. Using all the willpower you had, you tried to keep your hips still while his tongue made slow circles around your clit before moving down to your entrance.

He ran his tongue around it before he speared it inside of you, his thumb coming up to rub your clit while he fucked you with his tongue.

“You taste so good,” he moaned against you. The sensation making your legs shake.

“Please, please Doctor.” Your voice was a whine. Seeing Spencer Reid’s head between your thighs was the sexiest thing on the planet.

You could feel his mouth turn up in a smirk. His thumb kept its tortuously slow pace. “Please what, Samantha?”

“Please make me cum, please.”

You felt his other hand move over to your opening, two fingers entering you without warning, causing you to arch your back.

He withdrew them immediately at your movement, raising his upper body to look at you. You were not expecting it when his hand came down against your pussy in a sharp slap.

“Fuck!”

“I told you to hold still, Samantha.”

Your thighs were shaking in your efforts. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I’m trying.”

He smiled, running his tongue over his lips. “I know, Pretty Girl.”

His fingers pushed back inside of you, curling up. He shifted his hand slightly until he brushed again the spot inside of you that caused you to moan out a broken plea.

Your eyes had closed in both pleasure and as a show of self-control. If you saw what Spencer was doing to your body right now there was no way you’d be able to stop yourself from moving.

When you felt his mouth close around your clit, you were unable to keep your eyes shut. You had to look at him. His eyes were closed in bliss, his arm moving at a faster past.

His eyes snapped open and his mouth lifted when you moaned out his name. “Are you gonna cum, Pretty Girl?” he teased. “I can feel your tight little pussy squeezing my fingers. Fuck. I’m so fucking hard just thinking about what it will feel like when you cum all over my cock.”

“Spencer, please. I’m so close Please.”

He moved his mouth back down to the seam of your body. “You’ve been such a good girl, Samantha. You can move now, but your arms stay where they are. I want you to fuck this pretty pussy on my face. Can you do that?”

You nodded, your hips already moving to grind against him, seeking out your own pleasure. When his lips took your clit into his mouth, sucking softly, while his fingers curled into you, you were unable to control the loud moan that came out of your mouth as your orgasm washed over you.

Spencer’s fingers still moved inside of you, bringing you through your orgasm. He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh as he removed his fingers when you finally started to come down from your orgasm, he then put his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before he spoke. “I’ve thought about how you’d look after you came for me so many times,” he said quietly, moving up your body. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “This is better than I imagined.”

You tried to deepen the kiss, but you knew you couldn’t move your arms yet.

“You’re not done, are you baby?” He laughed when you frantically shook your head “no.” You didn’t think you’d ever be done with this man.

His hand shot up to wrap around your throat; he applied pressure to the sides to restrict the blood flow. "When I ask you a question, I expect an answer, Samantha."

You couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of his hand against you.

“Still such a needy girl,” he teased. “Now, you’re not done, are you?”

“No Doctor,” you rasped out.

Spencer smiled before he brought his mouth to yours again. He didn’t remove his hand from your throat while his tongue slicked into your mouth. It twirled against your own until he sucked the tip of your tongue into his mouth.

He pulled away with a groan. “I can’t fucking stand this anymore.” His hands moved to his pants, undoing them in a flash. You caught sight of him inside of his underwear. He palmed himself, his eyes on your face before he finally peeled those down too.

Spencer was well above average in everything else, it wasn’t surprising that he was here too. His hand wrapped around his cock, giving a few pumps while his eyes ran over your body.

“Turn over.”

You moved onto your stomach; Spencer pulling you up on to your knees. You felt both of his hands run over your ass until his right one lifted.

He gripped his cock in his hand, bringing it to your dripping center. Even that powerful orgasm hadn’t satisfied your desire for this man.

You felt the head of his cock slip into you, causing you both to groan. “Fucking Christ,” he moaned. “You’re so fucking tight.”

He started to slowly fuck himself into you, going deeper with every thrust. Your upper body was propped up on your elbows, your head hanging between them. You had never felt so overwhelmed by a man like this before.

With one final thrust, his hips slapped against your ass as he filled you completely.

Your face dropped into the pillow when he started to move; you were unable to control how loud you were moaning.

Those long fingers tangled in your hair again, pulling your head up. “No,” he growled, his rhythm never faltering. “I’ve thought about fucking you for too long. I want to hear you, do you understand.”

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip while your hips pushed back against him. "Yes, Doctor."

“Good girl,” was all he said but he didn’t release your hair.

This was a torture of the sweetest kind. Your hands were bound, both of his hands were holding you in place while he fucked you in an almost primal way, but you need to touch your clit so badly you could cry. You were already so close again.

Spencer must have realized it then too. He pulled out of your body, causing a whine to slip from your throat, your hips pushing back to seek him out again.

“On your back, Pretty Girl.” He helped you roll, settling himself between your thighs again. His fingers ran over the bindings on your wrists before he brushed his mouth against yours.

He gripped his cock again, lining it up with your entrance before he slowly started to sink into you. He pulled your legs up higher around his waist, pulling him deeper. You both groaned at the sensation.

Spencer started rocking against you, his pelvis grinding against your clit. He kissed you again, both of his lips covering your top lip.

You let out another whimper when his pace quickened.

“I should be so mad at you, Samantha,” he rasped against your lips. “You’ve kept this perfect pussy away from me for too long.”

His words caused you to clench around him. He lifted his upper body again, only this time one hand when to your throat, the other moving between your bodies.

You felt his thumb circle your clit while his fingers choked you again. “Come on, Samantha. I want you to cum for me, pretty girl.” Your head was thrashing against his hold, your body moving against his desperately. “I can feel it; cum on my cock baby.”

You might have screamed when the orgasm broke inside of you but you lost all sense of time and space when you came for him. Spencer's pace never slowed, his hands lifting from you to grab onto the headboard. His thrusts were brutal and seemed to extend your own orgasm.

With one final thrust, he groaned out “Samantha”, a look that you would remember for the rest of his life on his face while he found his release inside of you.

He quickly reached up and undid the bindings around your wrist with one movement. You brought your arms down, wincing at the pins and needles feeling.

“Sore?” he asked, his thumbs rubbing over your wrists.

“It was worth it,” you teased.

He smirked up at you. “So, am I still adorable?”

“I don’t know,” you pretended to consider him. “There isn’t enough data to reach a conclusion. You’re a man of science, you should know that.”

“Only you would make a science joke at a time like this.”

“It’s why you like me.”

His gaze softened, his hand cradling your face again. “It’s one of the reasons.”

You hadn’t gotten a chance to really talk to Spencer since that night in Oklahoma. He had slept in your room, causing both of you to rush around frantically the following morning so you wouldn’t miss the plane.

Then you had a full day of paperwork before Penelope insisted that everyone needed to unwind and have fun. So, against everyone’s will, she had dragged us to a bar nearby.

Now it was the next day and you had a nervous sort of excitement fluttering in your stomach.

“It’s a bit warm for a scarf, Pretty Boy,” Morgan called out, startling you.

You had noticed your purple scarf was missing from your go bag but you just assumed you left it in the hotel room.

That was evidently not the case as Dr. Spencer Reid walked into the BAU bullpen with it wrapped around his neck.

“My neck gets cold,” he defended. “I’m not used to short hair yet.”

That seemed to satisfy everyone else, but you didn’t miss the smirk he sent your way, or how he placed the scarf on his desk where you could see it.

It wasn’t until after 10 am that you could finally get a chance to speak to him alone. He didn’t look at all surprised when you started walking towards his desk, he just turned his chair to face you, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“Are you going to give me my scarf back?” you questioned, your tone both amused and expectant.

Spencer just smiled at you, his cockiness seeming to have vanished. He looked almost nervous when he asked, “Are you going to go on a date with me?”

Despite all you had done, you couldn’t control the rush of surprise at his request. “Yes,” you informed him with a huge smile on your face.

His smile was just as earnest. “Finally,” he muttered, turning his chair back towards his desk. “And since you said ‘yes’, I think I’ll hang on to the scarf for a bit longer.”

-- The end.

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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Would You Be My Little Quarantine (one-shot)

Synopsis: As the mandatory quarantine hits, the Reader is stuck in a cabin in Utah with the boys from 5 Seconds of Summer. Turns out another person is stuck in a hotel nearby. Hijinx ensue as does romance.

Pairing: Harry Styles x f!Reader

Genre: fluff pretty much just pure, teeth-rotting fluff.

Warnings: it’s my first time writing for Harry as I was never really part of the fandom, but damn does Watermelon Sugar do things to a person, so please be kind. This is defo not my best work, but I’m slowly getting back into the groove of things, so bare with me :D

Word count: 6061

TikTok had become Y/N’s new obsession. She’d stayed away from it as long as she could, being a true Vine generation child, she felt loyalty to the deceased app. But one night, after a long recording session, she caved. And then stayed giggling on it until the early morning when the birds started to chirp… or until Calum had taken her phone and threatened to throw it in the jacuzzi if she didn’t go to bed.

The girl and the four guys from 5 Seconds of Summer had been renting a cabin in the middle of the Utah woods to help them escape the distractions of the city as they recorded their respective albums, and given how they were good friends, they decided to collaborate on a few songs, and it made sense to just chill together as well.

Which had started off Y/N’s own TikTok series, having ‘borrowed’ the idea from the Irishman living with two girls.

“Alright, gentlemen.” She slid inside her bathroom pulling the focus of her camera on the reflection in the mirror. “I live with four guys, and I have some things to say. Why do you always, and I mean ALWAYS, leave your socks around the house? The dirty ones. You know you could just throw them in the wash… there’s an idea.”

“We do!” Calum yelled

Y/N turned her face to the door and hollered, “Only after I’ve asked you to!”

“Do not!” he countered.

“Do too!” she exited the bathroom and into the hallway only to be met with the man standing there with his hands on his hips. “Then how.” Y/N pointed the camera towards the living area you could see from where the hallways overlooked the room. “Do you explain that?” And when she zoomed in, there, in a small pile laid two brown socks, all crumpled up and almost pushed underneath one of the three couches, as if someone was trying to hide them from sight.

Calum stammered for a bit. “Those are NOT mine.”

Y/N flipped the camera and looked at it like they do in the Office. “Help me,” she mouthed and finished the TikTok, pointing with her hand at him. “Ya disgustin’!”

Just as maturely as she had reacted, so did Calum by crossing his arms and sticking his tongue out, but their little bickering about whose socks they were and whose job was it to put them in the dirty wash (they were Ashton’s, and it was his job), Luke poked Y/N’s side as he came out from his room.

“I know might seem weird, but is there any chance another person could join our quarantine group?”

Y/N’s eyebrows rose. Sure, the house was giant, mostly because whatever production she was a part of on Broadway, after a successful season, she invited all of them there to get away from the bustle of New York and just chill. It was in the middle of the forest, encased by gorgeous mountains and at the side of a lake where they’d go jet skiing and cliff diving.

“I thought people can’t visit one another?”

“They can’t,” Luke confirmed. “That’s the point. The unfortunate soul just got stuck at a hotel not too far from here, and all the flights are cancelled. Two weeks of quarantine without symptoms have been concluded, but, knowing how impossible it’d be to get to London, when you know, as I said, there are no flights, I offered a place to stay.”

“So,” Y/N dramatically rolled her head. “You already offered to stay before asking me?”

“Well, I knew you’d say ‘yes’ because you’re a kind, generous, amazing, smart, talented, compassionate person and wouldn’t leave someone on the streets when you know you could help.”

“Mhm, keep talking.” Y/N squinted her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

“Incredible, best musician I’ve ever met, how you haven’t won all of Tony’s I’ve got no idea. Your acting skills are impeccable and the movie industry is missing out on a once in a lifetime kind of a talent by not castin-“

“Alright stop.” Y/N busted out laughing. “As long as you promise I won’t wake up with an axe in my head, ‘s fine.”

“Promise.”

“Good. Also, could you please get me three bottles of that wine I like?” Y/N hollered before skipping downstairs and to the kitchen where Ashton was brewing the tenth cup of coffee. “I have a deadline in two weeks and have literally no idea where to go with the story.” She referred to the second book of her series she was writing, and now with the lockdown going on, her literary agent was breathing down her neck, and it didn’t help she hadn’t written anything in like a month and didn’t remember half of the already exiting story.

Luke lifted a brow and hissed through his teeth. “That bad?”

“You have no idea,” she sighed and left for the living-room where she could harass the boys for their fries and procrastinate some more.

***

The few hours, while Luke was away, were quite uneventful. All of them sat around on the couch pit, wrote some music, lil bit of lyrics and Y/N almost cried seeing as her characters had decided to live their own life and not obey to her story.

“Why do you have to be such an idiot,” she mumbled under her breath and furrowed her brows as she wrote herself into a new plot hole.

Right as Y/N was about to delete the whole chapter, the door slammed open and she heard grunting. “We’re here!” Luke hollered, and the thought of wine made her giddy, making her leap over the edge of the couch, and rush to the front door only to stop dead in her tracks.

Y/N’s mouth hung open, not because of who the person joining their quarantine group was, but because of what the person was. “A fifth GUY?! You didn’t tell me it’d be a guy!”

“I didn’t think it’d matter!” Luke yelled back.

“There’s already four of you!” She pointed back to the living room hearing loads of ‘hey!’ being shouted back.

“Would you leave him on the streets if you’d known he was a dude?”

“No, of course not!”

“Why are we yelling?”

“I don’t know!”

“I mean, I can leave.” Harry Styles said pointing at the door, not really knowing what to do. He certainly hadn’t expected that sort of greeting. “But I do come bearing gifts.” He lifted a black bag where a clinking of glass could be heard.

“No,” she sighed. “It’s fine... I just… I just miss the company of vaginas.”

He raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Vaginas?”

“People I can rant to. Honestly, it doesn’t even matter if you have a vagina, as long as we can have a good rant. Especially about the gross things like having all of your dirty socks thrown around the house.” She threw Luke a look that screamed ‘I know you pushed all of them under your bed, and it’s stinking up the whole place.’

Harry shook his head. “Ya not gonna find me leaving my clothes like that. Besides, ‘s disgusting.”

“No,” Luke whined, “come on, man! You’re supposed to be on our side!”

“It’s two against four,” Harry snickered, throwing his hand around Y/N’s shoulder, who gave Luke a smug grin, and it made her mimic the same expression.

“It’s evening out. Maybe you should actually invite some other people to quarantine with us. Say, Harry, is maybe Niall in need of a place to stay?”

Luke rolled his eyes, and shook his head, going into the kitchen and placing the food bags he’d been holding. “I hate you so much.”

Y/N’s smile just widened.

***

“Yes, I’m still stealing your series Irishman.” Y/N zoomed in on her face. “Because now…” she looked up at the ceiling in a manner ‘someone please save me’, “I’m living with FIVE dudes. Yes, FIVE. We have an addition. And if someone doesn’t come and kill me, I will kill them.”

“We’re not that bad!” Michael hollered form out of frame, to which Y/N yelled back, “Yes the fuck you are! Boys are gross. You do realize you’re allowed to have more than one towel. Like you DON’T have to wipe your face with a towel that’s soaked up your ball juice.”

“It’s economy.”

“It’s disgusting! Also.” Y/N turned the camera to Harry who was climbing up the stairs with a cup of coffee in hand. “Say ‘Hi’ to gremlin number five. He’s stolen all of my nail polish.”

He gave a cute wave with an adorable smile, muttering an unintelligible ‘Hello’ as his mouth was stuffed with a piece of bread and a very muffled ‘You don’t even use them.’

“Yes, but that’s not the point. Anyway,” Y/N pointed the camera at herself. “Tune in for an update whenever, as long as I haven’t strangled anyone, and pray to the heavens you don’t see my face in the papers cause the next time you do, it’ll be my mugshot for a quintuple homicide.”

“Is that a threat Y/L/N?” Harry smirked, as Y/N walked past him and took away his cup of coffee.

“No, it’s a promise.” She threw him a wink, leaving the Brit with his mouth open at the woman’s audacity, as she stopped the recording of the TikTok.

“That was my coffee!”

“Not anymore!”

He shook his head, turning back around and going to the kitchen, seeing Y/N perched on one of the stools, neck stretching over to where Ashton was watching a video on his phone, the black liquid in his cup now a creamy beige. Harry smiled. Maybe quarantine wasn’t going to be so bad.

***

Y/N’s head popped from the side of the door, bringing all of their attention to her. “You guys need to record anything right now?”

Luke shook his head, signifying the band was alright before turning to Harry who mimicked him, the tapping of his pen stopping. “Why?”

“Just got a call from Laurence, he said something’s wrong with the ‘Candy Store’ audio from yesterday. Need to rerecord it and send it over. Something about a faulty export or whatever.”

“ ‘S all yours.” Ashton motioned to the recording booth. “Oh, but can I be Heather Duke?”

“And can I be Heather McNamara then?” Luke piped in.

Y/N chuckled. “Not to burst your bubbles, but you do know you won’t be in the final version?”

“No, but we could be in THIS version. It’d be for our private files. And it’d help you.”

“That sounds so wrong.” She grimaced. “How would that help me?” Y/N plopped next to Harry on the floor. “You’re the biggest distractions I’ve ever met.”

Luke scoffed. “How dare you! We offer you our services of being backup singers, and you… you’re such a meanie. You’re such a Heather Chandler!”

“It’s 2020! If Leslie Odom Jr. can play Aaron Burr, then I can play one of the Heathers! Don’t be sexist, Y/N!”

“I never said a dude can’t play a Heather, don’t put words in my mouth. I just said last time we tried to record anything together we ended up playing SIMS for like seven hours, but… come on you two divas, get your asses inside then. But I swear if Laurence or Kevin call because one of you whispered something dirty in the background of MY parts, I will strangle you in your sleep.”

“How little trust do you have in us?”

“Very,” Y/N deadpanned, showing the two men inside, leaving Calum, Harry and Michael to man the production table. “If you mess with anything, your asses will be grass.” She pointed at the three and all of them put their hands up in surrender. “ ‘S bad enough you ruined my single.”

“It’s called giving it flavour,” Calum said through the microphone.

Y/N just responded by sticking her tongue out.

Michael lifted his fingers, counting down from five to one, giving her the cue to start.

“Are we gonna have a problem?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, already immersed in the character of Heather Chandler. “You’ve got a bone to pick? You’ve come so far, why now are you pulling on my dick?”

Harry swallowed hard.

“I’d normally slap your face off, and everyone here could watch,” she slightly motioned with her head to the audience behind the screen, a mockingly sweet smile on her lips. “But I’m feeling nice, here’s some advice, listen up biatch.”

When her hips started moving from side to side to the rhythm of the song, Harry swore he’d never found someone being mean (even though it was mock mean) so hot.

“I like,” Y/N raised her voice before dropping it. “Looking hot, buying stuff they cannot.”

There was no sight of the sweet and bubbly girl Harry had met. This was Queen-B of Westerberg High in flesh. He was transfixed.

“I like drinking hard, maxing dad’s credit card.”

She didn’t need anyone’s credit card to pay for her things, given how she was one of the top paid Broadway singers of their generation, and something in Harry skipped a beat at how confident she looked.

“I like skipping gym, scaring her, screwing him,” Y/N rolled the ‘r’ deeply in her throat, and he had to collect himself before his thoughts went to an unsavoury place.

“I like, killer clothes, kicking nerds in the nose!” With a smile, Y/N pointed at Luke who only rolled his eyes. “If you lack the balls, you can go play dolls, let yer mammy fix you a snack,” she emphasised the ‘K’ after having mockingly sung the bit before. “Or you could come smoke, pound some rum and coke, in ma Porche with the quarterback.”

As weird as it was to have the two boys be her fellow Heathers, Y/N hated to admit it did help her. It reminded her more of what it was like to be on stage before the pandemic had started and the production had to be shut down. And she missed them. All her fellow actors just as much as she missed the rush of getting on stage and losing herself in the role and atmosphere.

“You can join the team –“

“Or you can bitch and moan,” Y/N’s ‘Heathers’ sang in a nasally voice

“You can live the dream.”

“Or you can die alone.”

Harry snuck inside the recording booth, picking up a pair of headphones by the drum set.

“You can fly with eagles,”

“Or if you’d prefer,”

“Keep on testing me,”

“And end up like her!”

And that’s when Harry joined in, reciting the lines of both Veronica and Martha, and when he saw Y/N keeping a palm over her mouth as she tried to keep a mean face while inevitably hiding a smile. The whole of the song, despite how Ashton, Luke and Harry had tried to make Y/N break character (she came close a couple of times), the woman stayed on the line, not missing a beat, and especially enjoying the moment where she looked at Luke, who was about to hit the high note and screaming ‘shut up, Heather!’

Harry couldn’t help the smile splitting apart his face. When Luke had first picked up his call, having known he and the gang were somewhere in the Utah region, he had thought he’d be living with just the guys, and when he found out it was actually Y/N Y/L/N renting the cabin, the girl he’d admired for so long for how brave and utterly unapologetic she was of being herself, Harry had just thought he’d gain a new friend, not have romantic feelings spring up.

And all of it had happened in the span of two days, not even that much. He’d arrived the evening before, had met the woman, and now it was three PM on day two and was already in love.

It was an exhilarating and terrifying feeling all at once. Some studies said it takes men eight seconds to fall in love, which Harry now could pretty much confirm, while it takes women generally fifteen days to fall in love. And he could only hope Y/N might have some feelings for him as well, otherwise, he’d have to scold his heart for falling quickly once again.

***

It was the middle of the night, wind slamming against the windows when Harry got awoken by people talking behind his door. At first, he was ready to fight, thinking immediately that intruders had come into the house, but when he heard a ‘fuck off Michael’ and a ‘you fuck off, you’re gonna ruin this’, he understood everything was fine. And he was just about to lay back down on the soft pillows, but as the saying went – curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, so he threw off the covers and lightly went to the door, where a bleary Harry appeared on the stairs making Y/N and Michael whip their heads towards him and freeze on the spot.

“What are you two do-“ but he didn’t get to finish the question as the two co-conspirators shushed him.

“You’re either in,” Y/N whispered harshly, “or out. Choose Styles.”

A beat. “What kind of trouble’re we getting’ into?”

The smile which spread on her face was nothing short of wicked. “Revenge,” Y/N hissed.

“Be quieter than a mouse,” she whispered to him, and now the trio moved downstairs.

“Who are we getting revenge on?” Harry spoke as quietly as he could, as they rounded the corner and exited the cabin through the back door. It was colder than he thought, seeing how the wind wasn’t warm at all, and he was grateful he’d fallen asleep in his favourite rainbow cardigan. How Y/N and Michael didn’t even shiver in their barely-there pyjamas he didn’t understand.

“See, Luke here thought it was a good idea to not heed my warning about not messing with my recording.”

Harry’s eyebrows scrunched up. “He didn’t.” He knew Luke hadn’t, he was there the whole time and listened back to what they’d sung with everyone together.

“No, but he did rename a different file with the same name I had for the 'Heathers'' recording, on MY computer, mind you. And well, let’s just say, it was not what anyone wanted to hear.”

Harry had to swallow, as his mind went to unsavoury places, and as Y/N shimmied open the lock of the window to the studio bathroom part of the house, she looked over her shoulder to see his expression. It would seem, despite him being in ‘Dunkirk’ and having been confirmed to play Eric in the live-action ‘The Little Mermaid’ he wasn’t as good of an actor as he thought.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” she snickered and pulled herself inside the house through the window, Michael handing her a black duffle bag Harry hadn’t first noticed. “It was a conversation I had with my friends while we were all drunk. Some tea, some very personal��tea was spilt, and so.” She unzipped the bag slowly and took out a whipped cream can. “I’m going to spill something else.”

Canned cheese was one of the most disgusting things ever created by a human in Y/N’s opinion. So, squeezing nine cans worth of the stuff inside all of Luke’s socks, jean pockets and everywhere else possible was good enough revenge for her.

“Why are we in the studio though?” Harry asked as the trio crept towards the bathroom door and peeked through the open sliver. It was pitch black.

“Because Luke teds to forget his favourite things here,” Michael explained and motioned for them to follow as he checked that the hallway was clear. It was go-time.

Together they all snuck back inside the recording studio, and much like Michael had said – Luke’s favourite jean jacket, a woollen jumper, three pairs of boots and shoes were all scattered around the place. He hadn’t even noticed it while they’d hung out there, but now Harry understood what Y/N was talking about while whining about the boys being messy.

She uncapped the can and squeezed, the artificial smell of cheese wafting through the air, making her almost gag. “That’s for being a bad friend,” she muttered while filling up one shoe. “That’s for making bad jokes.” She filled up another. “And that’s for saying ‘Dancing in the Moonlight’ is an overrated song.’

It was hard for Harry to contain the giggles, as he uncapped his own can and started filling up wherever Y/N pointed to. Did he feel bad? Sure. But was it fun to feel like a teenager in a university dorm during a prank war? Abso-fucking-lutely. And it didn’t help that he was desperately falling in love with Y/N with every second they spent together. Like she could’ve asked him to hide Luke’s corpse, and he’d say he’d take the blame for the murder if it came to it.

“Why did we have to sneak around the place like that?” he suddenly asked, brows furrowing in concentration as he squeezed the smelly contents inside the inside pocket of the jacket. “Why couldn’t we have just walked through the house?”

“Because Luke always and I mean always comes to the studio at 3 AM,” Y/N stated.

Harry looked at the clock. It was 2:45 AM already.

“But before that, he goes into the kitchen, makes himself a double espresso, a sandwich and eats it before going into the storage where we keep all of the instruments, which is where he is in right now. Had we snuck through the normal way, he would’ve seen us and stopped this. And that just wouldn’t fly.”

However, it was like Luke had a sixth sense as right at that moment the light flipped on, and like deer in headlights, the trio’s heads shot up and eyes widened.

“What the fuck!” he whispered hand extended in the direction of the already six empty cans on the floor.

Y/N snapped out of the adrenaline induced frozen state and shrugged. “I told you not to mess with the recording.” She put her finger back on the squeezable part. “And you. Didn’t. Listen.”

The cheese squirted out with a splutter, and all of them stood still as the final bits dropped into Luke’s black boot. “And that’s payback.”

With a sway in her hips, Y/N exited the room, leaving the three men to gawk after her.

God was she a hurricane, Harry thought to himself. And he’d never been as happy to be caught right in the eye of it all.

***

The next few days all of them spent lounging around the house, recording a few songs, most of them by Harry seeing as a huge wave of inspiration had hit him, making him write more than one love song. He even asked Y/N somewhat shyly if she could do some of the backing vocals, and he swore the song went from a 3 to a 100 the second he heard her voice weave his lyrics into a symphony.

By that point, they’d been quarantining for a week and a half together, and a heatwave was coming up. The cabin had both an inside and outside pool which they’d all had to learn how to maintain, seeing as no one could come and do it for them, and a jacuzzi tub on the terrace. As much as the boys tried to prove they knew how to keep the places clean, ultimately it was Y/N who saved all of them from chlorine poisoning and algae overgrowth.

So, it was right when she pulled out the pH indicator and said it was good for use when with a scream, Luke rushed forward Y/N, rugby tackling her by the waist and plunged both of them down to the water below.

“You asshole!” She splashed at him, laughing and choking out a bit of water as they resurfaced. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“That’s payback for the cheese.”

She went silent for a second, but then shrugged. “Can’t say I didn’t deserve it. But you did deserve the cheese.”

“So,” Luke extended his hand for a shake. “Do we call this even?”

Harry exited the cabin right as both of them completely soaked to the bone jumped out onto the wood floor. He stopped mid-walk if only to control where his eyes went seeing as Y/N’s white shirt clung to her body and well… didn’t leave much for the imagination anymore.

“Do I wanna know what happened here?” He raised a brow.

“Retribution.”

“Though I do gotta say, you have a funny way of getting revenge.” Y/N smirked at Luke, making him squint down at the girl.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she drawled out, a mischievous smile on her lips, “that when I filled your clothes with the cheese, my stuff didn’t get stinky. And yet, from your end… I’m not the only one wet.”

A beat passed.

“God fucking damn it.”

“Hey!” She pointed a finger at him. “We called a truce!”

Luke waved her off. “Yeah yeah, whatever,” but Y/N grabbed Luke’s hand right before he went inside and squeezed it.

“We good?”

He sighed and smiled. “We good, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, gave Harry a quick ‘see ya later’ as well and disappeared through the glass doors.

Harry didn’t know what’d happened to him. He’d always been a helpless romantic, falling in love, and maybe a bit too hard at that, but this time, even without Y/N knowing about his feelings, his heart felt safe.

Sure, the side of her he’d seen was a complete headcase, and she had more energy than a bull with a red flag in front of it, but the utter love exuding from the woman, even while she complained about her four, well five counting him, housemates was palpable in the air. The way she hugged and made sure everyone had whatever they needed, the way she let them know if anyone needed to have a chat, she’d be there to listen, and the small little things of how she always knew what preferences they’d have for their pancakes or breakfast in general, made his heart melt.

“Luke’s a lucky guy.” Harry swallowed before saying that. As much as seeing Y/N be affectionate with everyone, him included, made him feel all fuzzy, a little jealousy monster did bubble up in his stomach when he saw her snuggled next to the lead vocalist of the band. He didn’t have any right to, but no matter how much he tried to repress the green beast, it still lurked somewhere deep in his heart.

“Hm?” Y/N lifted her head where she’d been looking at the water as she squeezed it out of her shirt and up at Harry.

He motioned with his chin to where Luke had disappeared. “He’s a lucky guy to have someone like you.”

“Oh, we’re not together if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I –“ he stammered. “I didn’t mean to offend y-“

But Y/N waved him off. “You’re not the first nor probably the last person to say that. I get it. They asked me one time to surprise their fans at a concert in Connecticut, I think, and when their photographer sent over the pictures, I kinda saw what everyone kept saying, but I’ve never looked at any of them as more than a friend. Best friends, brothers maybe, but nothing more.”

“How’d ya get so close?” Harry enquired, his chest feeling a bit lighter.

Y/N huffed and plopped down to the ground, patting the place beside her which Harry took. “When I first went solo, right after being on ‘Beetlejuice’ I was fucking terrified. Didn’t really know anyone in the music industry like that. Being on Broadway’s different.” She shrugged. “And the award shows are different as well. Like with ‘Tony’s’ or ‘Oliver’ awards it’s you know – musical and theatre geeks. My people. But the first time I went to VMAs I almost shat myself.” She chuckled, and Harry did the same. “Didn’t know anyone at all, was petrified to even find my seat because someone told me I’d have to sit between Lady Gaga and Rihanna, and my heart was not ready for that. Ashton saw me at the edge of the carpet, creeping around the entrance and kinda…” Y/N bit her lip looking for the right words. “I dunno. They kinda took me under their wing, in a sense – if you need a friend in the industry, we’re here, that sort of thing. And ever since then, we’ve been best friends. Luke and I just got the closest because we got stuck in an elevator once for like eight hours once, and well, boredom and thinking you’re gonna die in a four by four-foot box brings people closer.”

Harry almost choked. “Eight hours?”

“Yep.” Y/N popped the ‘p’ and gave him a sarcastic smile. “It was like soooo much fun,” she said sarcastically. “I totally didn’t think the elevator was about to drop from where we were up on like the sixtieth floor, and both of us were gonna get our bones smashed to pieces, and I only had two protein bars, and you know how I get without food,” she stated. He nodded.

“Cranky.”

“Exactly. But.” Y/N chuckled. “We didn’t die. Which’s great, not complaining, and I gained one of my all-time best friends.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t die.” Harry gave her a warm smile and nudged her foot with his. “Wouldn’t have gotten the chance to meet you otherwise.”

She nudged his foot back. “ ‘M glad I didn’t die either. And I gotta say – you’ve made this whole quarantine bearable. Sometimes it’s like fighting with four toddlers, and that’s always a futile battle. Happy to have another wrangler with me. Also an accessory to my crimes.”

He inched his hand towards hers, and when Y/N didn’t pull away instead liked her pinkie with his, a warm feeling rushed through him.

“Happy to be of help.”

***

It was two nights later or full two weeks since the six of them had been together when things took a turn.

Y/N’d always been a light sleeper, especially when her life was mainly placed in New York, but now, living in the middle of nowhere, she’d been able to catch up on some sleep. That was when the sound of her door being opened made Y/N shot up in her bed, sheets clutched at her chest in a panic. “What? What’s wrong? What did Calum set on fire?”

“Nothing.” Harry’s eyebrows scrunched up, but he decided not to ask. There was the morning for that. “This might seem weird, but could I uh could I possibly sleep in your room?”

She blinked a couple of times, because her brain was still processing his words and if they were even English, but once they registered, Y/N nodded, pulling back her blanket and scooting over. “C’mere.”

“Again, I’m sorr-“

Y/N shushed him, as Harry climbed in the bed, placing the duvet underneath his arm and twisting to see her, as she mumbled, “less talk, more sleep.”

He hummed in agreement. His eyes were heavy, in fact, they’d become heavy the instant his head had hit Y/N’s pillow, but it was like his heart, the same poor heart that’d had to deal with the newfound emotions for the whole time he’d been there, the same poor heart that didn’t know better and always gave itself away to the person it deemed to be worthy, no matter if in the end it ended up broken, took over the control of his eyes and mouth, and while slamming against Harry’s ribcage, he whispered his confession.

“I really like you… As more than a friend.”

A second passed. He felt Y/N stir as she turned towards him, brow furrowed. “Sorry?”

“I said…” He let out a shaky exhale. “I like you. I fell for you pretty much the second I entered the house and you threatened to throw me out because I was a guy. And then I fell for you when I saw you let loose in the studio. And then once more when I witnessed what your wrath entails.”

Y/N chuckled. “Cheese.”

“Yeah…” He let out a little laugh. “Cheese.”

A gentle palm went to brush away the hair stuck to Y/N’s face and he swore he could just melt as she leaned into his touch. “And then I fell for you when you said yes to singing my song… when you sang the lyrics, I dedicated to you… and every second I fall for you even more… I just… I thought you should know…”

“Well, I can only hope that you’ll take this as a compliment then, when I say I kinda like you too, Styles,” she mumbled snuggling deeper into her pillow. “Though I didn’t think I was your type.”

“What’s my type then?” he mumbled back, letting his arms wrap around Y/N’s waist when she shuffled closer. Not only was he now fully in heaven because he was covered by the softest duvet in the world, head resting against a literal cloud, but also because his nostrils were invaded by the gentlest of smells, and the body against his was the warmest of comforts.

“Well, not girls like me.”

“You mean talented, beyond funny and absolutely breath-taking?”

“Introverted, house hermits who don’t wash their hair unless they have to go somewhere with a perchance of self-destructive behaviour. Unintentional that is.”

Harry’s eyebrows lifted. “Would’ve never taken you for an introvert.”

“Mmmh,” Y/N sighed, feeling his fingers skim her skin. “That’s because I’ve known those guys for years, and they’re like my brothers. Couldn’t be uncomfortable even if I tried with them. We’ve seen too much of each other. But I’m definitely an introvert. Almost had a panic attack the first time I had to make my own doctor’s appointment.”

“You didn’t seem shy with me.”

“That’s because for some weird reason I… I didn’t feel awkward around you. And I mean, you did bring wine.”

She could feel Harry’s chest rumble as he laughed. “Well, I hope it helped with inspiration.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she huffed, but opened her bleary eyes and were met by Harry’s green already staring back. She couldn’t contain the giggle, and it only grew in power as he chuckled himself, making her bury her head in his chest.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head. “Just never thought I’d date someone from 1D.”

“Are we below you or something?” There was no trace of malice and hurt in his voice. He knew Y/N wasn’t like that.

“No, ‘s just my boy band phase was ‘Good Charlotte’, ‘Panic at the D!sco,’ ‘My Chem’ and the sort.”

“So, you weren’t fainting while listening to ‘You Don’t Know You’re Beautiful’?” Harry mumbled in Y/N’s hair, sleep slowly overtaking him.

She shook her head. “Sorry, no. Panties definitely weren’t dropping then.”

“Are they now?”

“According to ‘Watermelon Sugar’ you’re the one pulling all of ‘em off.”

“Damn. Guess it’ll have to be my new challenge.”

Y/N’s eyebrows scrunched up as she looked at him before promptly falling asleep. “Making my panties drop?”

“Yep. But this time because of me, not Gerard Way.”

“Bold of you to assume it was just Gerard Way. I’m a slut for all of those wizard dads.”

By the time she slurred out the last sentence both of them had drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

***

“They were right!” Harry shouted jumping up in the bed, startling Y/N awake once more as if something was breaking down on their heads with how urgently he jolted. “It does take women two weeks to fall in love and men 8 seconds.”

A pillow met his face. “Fall back asleep.”

He leaned over her still horizontal form, a smug smile on his face. “Are you gonna make a TikTok about it?”

“Probably ‘bout how I murdered the boyfriend I was with for three hours if he doesn’t let me sleep.”

He didn’t argue. With a smile on his face, Harry drifted off once more. Who knew that getting stuck in a hotel somewhere in Utah would lead him to the love of his life?

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: So... I know I’ve been gone for quite a while, but that’s because I have a job now (I’m trying to get a different one that actually would involve my degree, because this one is absolutely killing me), so please be understanding with the spare posting. I still love writing fics, and as evident, I’m kina branching out into other fandoms :D

There’s a lot of things going on in my life, so if you wanna follow me you can do that on Instagram @dinnusa or @read_with_dee or on my blog dinnusa.wordpress.com :) I also have a TikTok @dinmasters

P.S. feedback is always appreciated :)

P.S.S. If you wanna be tagged please drop a message :) or if you want to be removed/ changed to a different tag list please also message me :)

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quazartranslates · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH9

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 9: Resurrection Overture (IX)

{cw: threats of rape via beastiality (I’ve marked the worst of the content in question with ↓ ↓ at the beginning and ↑ ↑ at the end of those sections), brief transmisogyny}

This lesson caught him off guard, and Qi Leren was stunned for a while after the file was read before waking up as if from a trance.

Qi Leren, like many others, could easily let down his guard against his surroundings after the danger had passed, and such negligence was extremely fatal in terrible tasks.

"I’ve taken note," Qi Leren said gratefully.

Chen Baiqi snorted lightly and lit a cigarette: "Then let’s move on to the next item to test your physical fitness."

"How do we test it? Running?" With the last lesson of being blindfolded while avoiding throwing knives, Qi Leren’s heart was filled with worry.

Chen Baiqi blew out a smoke ring and sneered: "How can simply running force a person's limit?"

"..." Qi Leren felt that he was finished.

He saw Chen Baiqi insert a skill card into the card slot, and a heavy book appeared in her hand. She carelessly looked at the book as the pages turned automatically, suddenly brightened, and muttered to herself: "This is good, just right!"

As soon as the words “just right” sounded, a three-headed hellhound half the height of a person appeared at Chen Baiqi's feet. The three ferocious heads roared together and its thick canine teeth and dripping tongue made its fearsomeness soar.

↓ ↓

This strong figure, this fierce expression, and that thing under its crotch... Qi Leren swallowed saliva, his face went white, and his legs were weak.　

"This child was caught when I was practicing near Purgatory. He’s still in heat, full of energy, and has a strong desire to mate, and he doesn't mind whether what he’s mating with has two legs or four. He really is a warm and good boy." Chen Baiqi touched its ears and the three-headed hellhound excitedly reared up and looked at Qi Leren eagerly.

Chen Baiqi touched her chin again: "When I first entered this world, there was a very popular saying on the Internet... Oh, ‘it'll chase you, and if it catches you, it will 'hehehe' with you’.”*

*{E/N: A joke by Fei Yu-ching. The general gist of goes something like this: This person wants to go to a shop that specifically helps you lose weight. The cashier offers some packages of different prices. He picks one, enters a room where a lady is waiting in a bikini. She offers, "Chase after me. If you catch me, I'll let you 'hehehe' me". Thank you to Miko for this explanation.}

Although Qi Leren wanted very much to spit on her, this sentence had been out of date for many years and only middle-aged and old people would make such an old joke. However, Chen Baiqi had smacked the three-headed hellhound on the ass and under, her command, the dog growled and rushed crazily toward Qi Leren. Its enthusiasm was like an old bachelor who had been single for forty years and had met his new wife. Qi Leren screamed and started to run. He swore he’d never run so fast in his life!

But even if he had run a new personal record, the three-headed hellhound was still slightly faster than him. Even if he didn't look back, Qi Leren could feel the monster behind him getting closer and closer! He could almost feel its stinking hot breath spraying on his back, causing his chrysanthemum to tighten!

No way! If you continue like this, it’ll soon catch up to you! You can't just run!

I don't want to be knocked up by a dog!

Qi Leren, who was extremely nervous, mechanically pumped his legs and ran hard, and his brain that was struggling to consume oxygen didn’t have enough to think properly. A skill card? Primary Fighting couldn't make him run faster. Devil Etiquette... Stop it, becoming a succubus could only add fuel to the fire right now—he had specifically learned about succubus' data. This demon type with such an exaggerated sexuality would only make a field day for a stick. It was the most unscrupulous creature in the demon world, and the three-headed hellhound would only be more excited to see a succubus. After all, it was also a creature that didn't care whether the mating target had two legs or four, or even if it had legs at all!

↑ ↑

It was coming! Qi Leren felt the wind behind him, but he had already reached the wall of this huge basement. His mind went blank and he instinctively made a sharp turn to the right to continue running. But the three-headed dog behind him was not as agile as he was. Without time to break, it collided with the wall, causing the strong wall to shake.

Qi Leren, who was still desperate to escape, had a flash of inspiration in his mind: Yes, the three-headed hellhound wasn’t as agile as he was when turning, so he could take advantage of this...

Qi Leren looked back. The three-headed hellhound’s middle head had fainted, but the left and right heads were still giving orders to the body. It got up from the ground and continued to chase after him.

Qi Leren, with this train of thought, was much calmer this time. He didn't run around the room like a headless fly. Whenever he felt that the distance between them was close to a certain range, he made a sharp turn, and each time he managed to gain seven or eight meters from his pursuer. Wait until the next turn, when he was about to be caught up with, then repeat this old trick.

The three-headed hellhound, who didn’t have a high IQ, failed to see through his tricks and ran after him blindly. One man and one dog competed for endurance in this bitter mutual torture. Qi Leren’s legs that had surpassed their potential were almost numb. He was afraid the three-headed dog wasn’t much better. When he looked back several times, the three-headed hellhound had its three tongues lolling from its mouths, panting.

This was completely a competition of willpower. It seemed that Qi Leren’s determination to protect his virginity was better than the three-headed hellhound’s determination to mate. When Chen Baiqi finished smoking a whole pack of cigarettes, she’d finally seen enough: "Okay, let's end it there."

One man and one dog fell to the ground, four heads and six legs going on strike together.

↓ ↓

Qi Leren couldn't help thinking that if he was tortured like this every day, maybe one day he would have the terrible idea of "giving up resistance and lying down to accept it", and he really didn't want to do it again.

The three-headed hellhound was summoned back into the book by Chen Baiqi. Qi Leren looked at where it had just been enviously. It could rest, but he still had to be tortured by the head demon here. Yes, Chen Baiqi has risen to be a terrible demon coach in his mind, and he was just like the protagonists in comics who were spurred on, spending each day drowning in their own sweat.

"It's a pity, I thought I could look at 'man and nature'," Chen Baiqi said with regret.

Once again, Qi Leren felt his chrysanthemum tighten.

↑ ↑

"Intuition is okay, reaction and adaptability are barely strong, and physical fitness is still poor. You will report to me every morning at my store’s entrance, run to the steel bridge to fetch me two breakfast servings, and then run back. I’ll give you a watch. If you’re late, you’ll be punished by having to take my dog for a walk outside," Chen Baiqi smiled, speaking demonic words with ease and pleasure.

The dying Qi Leren couldn't help feeling sad, looking at Chen Baiqi with eyes full of bitterness.

"Get up, you can go home and report on time tomorrow," Chen Baiqi said with a smile.

"Surely I’ll be too sore to move tomorrow... No, I can't move now," Qi Leren said breathlessly.

"Oh, really?" Chen Baiqi said. Blowing out a smokey sigh, she walked beside him and raised her foot—the slender high-heeled shoe stamped between Qi Leren’s legs while he was off guard!　

Qi Leren screamed "AH" and rolled, narrowly dodging the foot that would have made him childless. The crisp high-heeled blow behind him scared him into a cold sweat.　

"You missed an opportunity to be a cute girl," Chen Baiqi said regretfully.

Qi Leren struggled to get up from the ground: "Thank you, this opportunity is not needed."

Chen Baiqi raised her slender eyebrows and smiled charmingly: "You’ll regret it."

On the way home, Qi Leren had been stubbornly thinking about Chen Baiqi's smile. He’d almost forgotten to ask her about buying a confidentiality contract. Chen Baiqi raised her eyebrows and didn't ask anything. He readily paid the money for his goods.

As he walked into a roadside public toilet, Qi Leren thought of cherishing his little brother affectionately. He had paid a painful price to keep it.

Unexpectedly, when he pushed open the bathroom door, he was greeted by a beautiful acquaintance. Her long curly hair was draped over her exposed shoulders, her gorgeous red lips were slightly opened, and her eyes were blurred as she swept towards Qi Leren at the door. It was the Illusionist Qi Leren had seen in Chen Baiqi's shop before!

"Sorry, wrong one!" Qi Leren subconsciously flung himself out the door.

The moment the door closed, he suddenly remembered... That thing in front of the Illusionist ... Wasn’t it a urinal from the men's room?

And the Illusionist herself, standing in front of the urinal at that time, had naturally lifted a heavy skirt and put her hand into the skirt to release its inventory.

Qi Leren felt his worldview collapse.

-----

Editor’s Notes:

I’ve honestly been dreading reaching this and the next chapter ε-(~д~”)

I want to give some forewarning that the there does start to be some notable transmisogyny in the series starting with this chapter, primarily in the form of misgendering. I haven’t read Part 3 yet and thus can’t speak for it (I will mention it in an E/N once I have and likely edit this one as well), but in Part 2 it doesn’t come up tremendously often as the character it’s in relation to, the Illusionist, is relatively minor.

However, the next chapter in particular is unfortunately entirely comprised of an extended joke centered on transmisogyny and sexual harassment. Nothing plot-significant happens in it and the chapter is entirely skippable if you do not want to read that.

As I stated before, as someone who is only working on a translation, I don’t feel that it’s my place to knowingly change or omit content. I do apologize for this. I will be providing the same sorts of warnings and skip-markers as I have previously in order to allow readers the best experience I can give under the circumstances.

As always, I encourage you to message me if you have any further questions or concerns about this or anything else.

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

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chris-evans-indian-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Voice

One-Shot

Description: When Mr Freezy enters your life, your peaceful world is destroyed.

Warnings: Non-consensual, voyeurism, masturbation, verbal abuses, harsh language and hints of necrophilia

DO NOT PROCEED IF THESE THINGS UPSET YOU. THIS IS A VERY DARK STORY. ONLY PROCEED IF YOU ARE 18+

This one-shot is my entry for Week 5 of @donutloverxo 's superfun writing challenge. This time, the challenge was based on GIFs. The one I selected will appear in the story below. Click here to participate in their weekly challenges

A/N- I blame @jtargaryen18 for making me an unholy hoe for Mr Freezy!

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

You were living the best life in 1969. Working part-time at the ice-cream parlor in the mornings, hanging out with your friends in the evening and sneaking out for parties at night, you loved your routine, carefree life in New Jersey.

Your foot bobbed along the tunes of Honky Tonk Woman by The Rolling Stones as you read that month's fashion magazine, sitting by the new, shiny cassette player. Taking pride in the fact that your family was the first in the neighborhood to buy the expensive cassette player, latest in the technology of playing music, you smirked as you delicately, almost teasingly fondled the device.

*beep beep*

The annoying horn of the filthy ice-cream truck broke you out of your reverie. Scowling, you turned to look at the abomination on 4 wheels parked right in front of your house. The long-haired driver, who called himself Mr Freezy, always gave you creepy vibes. Maybe he thought his wide smile would lure in more children, but it never failed to make your skin crawl with disgust.

You tried your best to ignore him and his irritating horn, hoping that he would drive away soon enough. Unfortunately, it was a hot summer's day and there was a long, winding line of customers.

After yet another *beep beep* you slammed down the magazine on the table. Walking out in your pinkish-red knee-length skirt and long-sleeved top, you had a good mind to tell Mr Freezy off.

Standing in front of his ice-cream truck window, you stomped your foot and placed your hands on your hips. "How can I help you Ms Jello Mould?" his disgusting attempt at comparing you to a dessert sent a chill down your spine.

"You have a long line of customers! Stop pressing your horn every 5 seconds!" you exclaimed, gesturing your hands towards the waiting people.

Mr Freezy chuckled, but the mirth didn't reach his eyes behind the glasses, "Now now. That is no way to talk to someone who is older than you Raspberry Ripple," he said in a friendly tone, "Not everybody can afford to buy a cassette player."

"Maybe you can if you cleaned your ice-cream truck once in a while," you spat, purposefully covering your nose, "I work in an ice-cream parlor, and no establishment dealing with ice-creams should stink like this!"

"My customers don't seem to mind it Sugar," his sweet tongue rolling the last word as if he was drooling.

You huffed, "I mind it! And stop with the horn! Or I will have daddy make sure you are never seen here again." And with that hardly intimidating threat, you walked towards your house. Mr Freezy licked his lips as he saw your silhouette disappear behind the front door. He could put your bratty nature to good use. Very good use indeed.

🍦

Dressed in a brown checkered dress, you sauntered home after your shift ended, your spirits high as you looked forward to being Ricky's date tonight at the party.

As you entered your home, your eyes fell upon the new cassette sitting besides your beloved player. Squealing with excitement, you rushed and grabbed the plastic box, hurriedly prying it open. To your surprise, a few photographs of you and Ricky fell out of the case with the words "Does daddy know about him?" scribbled on the back of every photograph.

No no no. OH GOD NO! you panicked as you rifled through the images. Your parents had no idea about your nightlife, let alone your boyfriend! These lovey-dovey photographs threatened to reveal your secret and ruin your life.

You found another note in the box behind the cassette, "There are plenty where these came from. Now be a good girl and play the cassette." Just beneath the sentence, a chocolate bar was roughly drawn in the corner and the words “My Chocolate Fudge” were written in small letters.

Your hands trembled as you hit play. A raspy voice greeted you from the device.

"Hey baby." You knew this voice, who was he? "Has daddy's little princess recognised me?" You were pretty shaken up, your mind refused to let go of the terror and think straight for a moment as your thumbs rubbed against one another.

"Oohh Sugar, what am I going to do with you?" the voice chuckled. That sentence brought you to a complete halt. It was Mr Freezy! How dare he threaten you like this?

Before you could form any coherent thought, he tut-tutted in annoyance, "How can an ordinary ice-cream man like me trouble a beautiful young woman such as yourself? What will Daddy say? Let's call Daddy shall we? I am sure he would enjoy looking at how well Ricky can fondle his daughter's breasts."

You felt numb as his words sank in. If your father found out, he would have you sent to the country, to his relatives who lived on a farm! Eww!! You shuddered, overcome with disgust as the cassette continued.

"Now Sugar, we don't need to tell Daddy about us. Do we?" You shook your head in response. "Very good," Mr Freezy continued, "Open the curtains to your right, and look at the house across the street."

You followed the instructions, and nearly choked on your spit. There he was, in your neighbour's house, smiling and waving from their first-floor window. "Follow my next instructions very carefully, or I will make sure that your entire neighborhood comes to know about the wonderful kisser that Ricky is."

You could only nod in response. No matter what, you could not afford to let your family be humiliated because of your actions.

"From now on, hit pause after you finish every command. And hurry, we haven't got all day Sugar. Your mother will be home soon. And if she is home before I am done with you, then let's just say tonight there wouldn't be any dessert for you," you gulped in agreement.

"Pull up a chair near the window and place the player near you." Your fear slowed you down and the recorder kept on playing, "Face the window, and strip." After a pause, you heard, "Sit on the chair and spread your legs wide. Keep your feet on the windowsill."

The rest of the commands fell on deaf ears as your body was stunned in shock. Did this man… really? You couldn't. You wouldn't. Maybe you could still apologise…

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you realised what this man wanted you to do. It was almost 4:30pm and people would soon fill the street in front of your house. If anybody decided to even look towards the window, they would surely see your body on full display.

As if reading your thoughts, Mr Freezy shook his head and pointed to his wristwatch.

You knew your mother would be home before 5:30pm. Whatever you had to do, you would have to do it quickly.

With trembling hands, you paused the cassette, and obeyed his first two commands, the upholstery on the chair feeling warm against your naked bottom. From this angle, you couldn't see him, but you were sure he was keeping an eye on you.

You were correct.

Mr Freezy sucked on his ice-cream bar as he watched the scene unfold. His tongue working the cold dessert as if it were your core. A small bite here, a suck there, and his length was already aching in his pants.

"Oooo look at that slutty pussy! Just waiting for a man's touch," his voice cooed from the recorder, "Play with your clit with one hand, and bring your other hand to your breast."

You begrudgingly relented, wanting to get it all over with soon. Heat flooded to your face as the indignity of your actions set in.

Across the street, Mr Freezy unzipped his pants, and started rubbing the neighbor's panty on his shaft, his touch fleetingly light as he sucked on the bar. He bit into the ice-cream when you rubbed your clit, the cold going straight to his length.

"I love how your plump breasts bounce everytime you take a step. A man can get lost in those curves of yours," his raspy voice continued, "Squeeze your breast lightly. Feel it's roundness. Tease your nipple too. Fondle it with one finger."

You bit your lips as you followed his instructions. You had masturbated a few times and had even reached third base with Ricky, but it had never felt like this. You knew this was humiliation in answer to your rude behaviour. But this… it felt… good. You were ashamed to admit it, but as the teasing prolonged, you started feeling the familiar and ever elusive knot building up in your stomach.

"Yes yes yes baby. Rub that clit harder. Make that pussy wet for me. But don't you dare enter a finger in your cumhole."

He watched as your hips thrust upwards, desperate for friction, as he started pumping himself faster.

"Slap that boob," he commanded as another moan escaped your lips, "slap harder!" and you did. "Pinch your nipple and pull it. Pull it you cock sucking bitch."

More wetness pooled at your core as you continued to play with your body.

"Stop," said Mr Freezy's voice. At first you thought you misheard him and so you didn't.

"I said STOP YOU FUCKING BITCH," his shouts from the player sounded as clear as a bell.

Startled, you brought yourself to a complete stop. Despite yourself, the sudden cessation left you feeling disappointed and hungry for more. "Pause this recording. Go to the full-length mirror in your room and have a good look at yourself," his voice urged you.

Meanwhile, Mr Freezy had come undone across the street, his thick release coating the neighbor's cotton panties. He sighed as he used the neighbor's brassiere to wipe himself clean. He was longing to get a taste of you. Too bad he had other things planned for you instead.

You ran towards your room, trying to hide your nakedness as much as you could. You didn't recognise the woman in the reflection. Hair astray, lips and cheeks slightly flushed, puffed breath, eyes wide and the hair on your mound glistening with your arousal. You couldn't bring yourself to meet your eyes reflected in the mirror.

You carefully went downstairs, and resumed the cassette.

"Saw the slut in the mirror? That's who you are bitch. A whore for a man's cock. Don't let Ricky touch that filthy pussy again, or I will fill you with my cum infront of your Daddy while he watches," the cassette ended with the heavy threat.

🍦

You were living the worst life in 1969. Quite often, you came home to a new cassette with new instructions recorded on them. Everytime, the plastic box was filled with naked photographs of your previous lewd acts. Up until now, you had jumped naked in front of the window, placed ice on different parts of your body, deep-throated an ice-cream bar and stripped to a vulgar song.

Tonight however, it was different. He had asked you to carry a bottle of wine (that he kept on your bed while you were gone) and go to a hotel at midnight. Mr Freezy had explicitly mentioned that you were to wear only your bra and panty. Still, you covered yourself with a long coat as you snuck out of the house.

The hotel, if you could call an almost crumbling building that, was in the notorious part of town. With your heart pounding in your throat, you shed your coat and knocked on the door. A large man answered, his smirk widening as he took in your appearance. "You Buffy's girl?" you nodded just as you had been instructed. The stranger pulled your breast and dragged you into the room.

He smacked your ass as he grabbed the wine bottle with another, "Buffy always sends the best stuff."

He was swift in opening the bottle, chugging the liquid down as if it was water. You shuddered at the thoughts of what this man was capable of doing to you. Tears filled your eyes at the realisation.

The man looked at you and, without warning, shoved the glass bottle in your mouth. "Drink. I like it when my prostitutes are drunk." His gaze swept over your entire body. One second you were gulping down the foul liquid, the next you were gasping for breath as he pulled the cups of your bra and poured the liquid down your torso, "Let these girls drink too! Lets get hammered baby!" he exclaimed as he pulled the elastic band of your panty and poured the wine on your mound.

He laughed maniacally as you squirmed in his grip. Drinking the last of the drops, he pulled you into his lap, licking and sucking at the wine currently following down your figure.

Your protests only spurred him on, but it all lasted only for a few seconds.

You felt the stranger's body seize with yours. Breath coming in harsh rasps, you felt your throat constricting as sharp pain shot in every nerve of your body. Your agony, along with the stranger's, lasted only for a few minutes as your shallow breaths became few, finally coming to a raggedy stop.

Mr Freezy smiled a lopsided grin into his binoculars. He hurried across the street, grabbing the girl's dead body and dumping it into his ice-cream truck.

He happily hummed when he saw the ice slowly creep up your skin. You see, this profession had turned Mr Freezy cold, inside out. To an extent where he despised the warmth of a pussy around his cock. He craved the cold. He craved you.

__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__

Taglist open! Just comment, send an ask or message!

#Captainsweeklychallenge #the iceman #iceman #robert pronge #mr freezy #mr freezy x you #mr freezy x reader #mr freezy x y/n #robert pronge x you #robert pronge x y/n #robert pronge x reader

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dayseternal-blog · 4 years ago

Link

A summer job at the Dole pineapple cannery, graveyard shift 10 PM to 6 AM. A long bus ride into and out of town. Two teens, shy beside each other.

Written for NaruHina 2020 August - Cultures/Around the World

Rated G

Inspired by “Torch Song” by @mmmbuttery (emmykay)

Here we go, a story I've worked on since November of last year. Despite the months of creation, this story is simply boy meets girl. This one is close to my heart, and I've second-guessed posting it.

It's loosely based on my parents' high school stories and how they met, and the experiences from many recorded accounts of people from that generation, the 1970s. I wrote this mostly with the intention of diving into and imagining their time period.

Finally completed, of course it’s late for August, in true spirit, I stay on island time. This story is titled after “About You” by Cecilio & Kapono, a 1975 Hawaiian pop classic.

One Shot - About You

The bus bumps and lurches on the potholes.

She notes when they pass by a friend’s house, lit only by the dim orange street lamps over dark driveways. There are so few cars out on the road that every time the bus pulls over and the door opens, she can hear the high-pitched hum of crickets in the grass. It’s all a familiar rhythm that might have put her to sleep on any other night. But she already took a long nap, readying her internal clock for the new schedule.

She’ll be taking this route for the rest of the summer, heading from the bus stop next to the local library straight to the cannery.

It feels alright, better than she was expecting. She was worried it would feel lonely--her friends are all working the cannery, too, but in the daytime. She wanted the extra nickel the night shift earns, bringing her up to $1.40 per hour.

She’s always thinking ahead--the more money she manages to save now for business college, the less she will need to work later.

The bus slows down to a stop, picking up probably the last passenger before it gets on the freeway straight to town.

She relaxes into her seat, settling in for the drive out of the suburbs.

“Hinata?”

That’s weird that someone would know her at this hour.

She turns her face away from the window and sees him standing in the aisle, as if he was about to sit down in the row in front of her. “N-Naruto?” She regrets her stutter. She just wasn’t expecting to see him. At all.

“Hey! Howzit?” He looks genuinely surprised to see her, too.

“Good...” She returns his bright grin with a shy smile of her own. She tucks a lock of loose hair behind her ear. “I’m heading to the cannery.”

“You working cannery, too?”

“Yeah...are you?”

“Yup. Gotta make dat extra nickel, yeah?” He smiles disarmingly as she nods, and he takes a seat.

She wants to relax. But she can’t.

Because it’s him.

All 5 feet 9 inches of beautiful boy sitting in front of her on a relatively empty bus. He’s taller than the average local Japanese, due to his hapa blood. And as if height wasn’t enough to make him attractive to all the girls, he’s funny. And clever. Athletic and nice. A little rascal, but that only increases his charm. She has so much adrenaline pumping through her from that one tiny conversation, she knows she’ll be exhausted before they even get to Honolulu Harbor.

The forewoman, a middle-aged Portuguese lady, takes her and another girl named Tenten to the lockers. “Wear dis.” She passes them a white apron and hairnet. “You girls get gloves?”

They both nod, pulling out their plastic gloves, required in the job description.

The lady glances at the gloves, bored expression unchanging. “Follow.”

Hinata tucks all of her hair up into the net, and she knows she probably looks like an enoki mushroom, dressed now all in white.

They follow the forewoman to the assembly floor.

“Here.” She hands them knives with the same carelessness of someone who’s been doing this for ages. “Take all da extra skin off cuz da machine no get ‘m all, look, but gotta do ‘m fas’ kine ah. No let da pines go down widdout cleaning ‘m,” she explains, pointing and waving at the conveyor belt.

Hinata nods. Four girls stand silently before a machine that’s spitting out bright yellow, skinned pineapples. They grab at them quickly, and then with practiced flicks of their wrist, they nick off the remaining bits into slots for the rubbish. They put the pineapples back down on the belt, where the fruit runs along to another set of girls, who give them another checkover. Further down, the fruit runs into a machine with circling blades that chop them into slices.

Rows and rows of young women dressed in white aprons with mushroom-netted heads stand around conveyors and machines.

Young men cross over the upper ladders and walkways carrying pineapples to dump into the machines and sticks to poke at the fruit in the chutes to prevent jamming.

The smell of pineapples is pervasive, sickly in its sweetness.

Not too much later, a bell shrills throughout the warehouse, and she’s taking over for a girl who’s now off-duty. She grabs at the pineapples, turning the weighty fruit over in her palm and cutting brown spots of skin off with the knife as quickly as she can. Droplets of pineapple juice stick to her gloves, and soon enough, the juice is dripping down the latex.

She’s not thankful for the gloves for long.

The juice runs down, and every stretch of her arm to grab at the fruit or place it back down feels sticky in the crook of her elbow.

Minutes turn into hours of watching pineapples.

She has no idea how the world eats so many pineapples.

How is it possible that people love pineapples this much? That the machinery is rarely turned off? That all of the state’s teenagers are employed every summer to work the fields and machines practically 24/7?

As unfathomable as it is, she finds a strange awe for the tropical fruit that she never had before. To pass the time as she trims the skin, she imagines where these pineapples are going. Who’s going to buy these pineapples. What country they’ll end up in and what language the people speak there. And whether they have ever seen a whole pineapple before.

But then again, maybe they’re all just going to the Mainland. Women who look like the movie stars with perfectly curled, blonde hair will open the cans for their families.

The bell rings, the machines stop.

They have 30 minutes.

The more veteran workers zip off to the lunchroom, not waiting for anyone.

Hinata smiles tiredly at Tenten.

“Whew,” the Chinese girl sighs.

Hinata nods in agreement. “I never seen so many pineapples before, I think.”

“Yeah, me, neither.” Her brows raise to emphasize the point.

By the time they get off at 6 in the morning, dawn is breaking, traffic is slowly building along Nimitz Highway, and she knows she must absolutely stink of pineapples.

But Naruto waves and stands beside her as they wait for the bus, as if he doesn’t care. Maybe he can’t smell her, desensitized now after so long in the warehouse. “Morning, Hinata,” he laughs, and the joke is not lost on her.

She smiles weakly, only his good attitude motivating her. “Good morning,” she manages to reply. She’s too exhausted to feel shy about standing beside her crush. After all, she was standing for the last several hours. All she wants is to sit down.

“How wuz it?” he asks conversationally.

She pinches her lips into a tight frown. “I had to trim the pines at the ginaca.” She gestures halfheartedly with her hands, showing him the flick of an imaginary knife she used. All night. She’s almost certain that she’s the machine now. “What did you do?”

“Oh, wuz pretty neat! I jus’ had to keep da cans moving on da belt an’ stick da lids inside da kine, machine, and then the cans pop out. I did da tops.”

She blinks at him. Forces a weak smile out that she barely feels in her heart. Sounds easy… But that’s to be expected, after all, women usually handle food anyway.

“No can wait fo’ sit down, yeah!” he laughs. He doesn’t sound tired, but it occurs to her that maybe he never does. His natural excitement is what makes him popular in the first place.

She nods.

When the bus pulls up to the curb, Naruto lets her get on in front of him.

The bus driver pulls a face as she pays.

She frowns, a hot blush spreading over her cheeks. She tried to clean up as best she could after her shift, but apparently, it really was all for naught.

“Go in da back!” the driver directs, none too friendly.

She does so, even though the front seats aren’t full.

Naruto laughs outright as he pays, unashamed at his own stink. “What, uncle, wen try fo’ wash off, still stay pilau?”

“Eesh,” the driver utters in response to the teen’s cheekiness.

She doesn’t know how he’s not embarrassed, nor how he’s able to talk back to strangers like it’s nothing. It’s just another case in point of her admiration and curiosity of him. She picks an aisle-facing seat, and, to her surprise, Naruto sits right next to her, his knees spreading open.

She’s not as tired as she thought.

Nerves race up her legs. She stares at her hands, which she carefully places on her knees, which are closely pressed together as ladylike as possible. Not a single part of her touches him. She thinks she might die if their legs touch.

And that’s how she doesn’t doze off on the long ride back home.

He meant to brag to his friends about working graveyard shift when he saw them that first weekend. Sure, the hours are junk, but, Ho, should see da chicks!

Particularly the one he rides the bus with. Hinata Hyuuga. A small, Japanese girl. Brains and looks. Not to mention her unusual, light eyes, making you question her race. But, nah, no real question about it, she’s Japanese through and through with her shy, quiet manner. She’s someone he imagines could win the Cherry Blossom Festival pageant with her smooth skin and round eyes. He and the guys always steal a poster of the new year’s contestants from the supermarket window. Pictures of pretty Japanese girls’ profiles all lined up, free to admire. She could definitely win. If she ever tried. But she’s not very personable.

Not that that ever stopped him from talking to whoever he wants to talk to.

Yet he ended up not mentioning anything about Hinata to his friends. Not the next week, either.

Somehow, she just comes off as out-of-his-league. At least, he’s certain that’s what his friends would say. Just mentioning her would probably earn him jokes. He’s pretty sure she’s in all the high, smart classes. But he doesn’t know much about that--and she’s a year younger than him. He only knows her because his social club had a gathering with hers last year, invited by Sakura. There’re lots of pretty girls in that social club, and, unusually, it has girls over two grade levels. Just the younger girls didn’t catch his attention last year.

Needless to say, he’s thinking about her now.

Not much else to think about while he drops lids into the machine. It’s monotonous work, but he knows now that his job is way, way better than Hinata’s.

-Two weeks ago-

His jaw dropped when he saw her on the bus the second night.

She had covered her arms self-consciously with her hands when he got on.

Of course, that action was what drew his attention.

Bright. Red. Streaks and bumps. A rash. Mottling her fair skin in the crook of her elbows to the middle of her forearms. Both sides.

“From da pines?” he asked incredulously.

She nodded, her eyes turning down, as if somehow the rash was a personal fault.

He looked away, realizing his staring was only making her feel worse. “You have da kine..sensitive skin?” He wondered belatedly if talking about it would only make her feel worse worse.

“Umm...yeah…” Her voice sounded even quieter than her usual.

He frowned awkwardly, though she didn’t see it. He sat down beside her, still looking away. “Jeez. Das real junk.” He swallowed back his strange feeling of guilt. Her pain wasn’t his fault. Her job placement wasn’t his fault. So why did he feel like he was partially responsible...? “Uh, dere anyting fo’ do about it?” He suddenly felt like cringing at the sound of his own pidgin. His heavy speech just further emphasized his upbringing compared to hers. Someone classy like her shouldn’t be doing a job like that, right? “‘Cuz like, can only get worse, yeah? You get medicine fo’ put on or someting?” He couldn’t help jabbering on and on. When he starts feeling uncomfortable, that’s just what happens.

Thankfully, she continued the conversation. “Mhm. I saw yesterday some of th’ other workers wuz wearing two gloves.” She opened her purse and pulled out a pair. The hands were cut off. “Like this, see?” She pulled the glove on over her elbow like a sleeve, then pulled another, uncut one on so that they overlapped on her forearm.

“Ho, neat idea, yeah?” He nodded in approval.

She smiled in response. “The juice no can get inside, I think, yeah?”

“Yeah!” he emphasized.

She smiled a little more, obviously not embarrassed anymore by her arms.

And he felt proud of himself for getting them out of that uncomfortable start to the bus ride. Felt oddly self-satisfied that he got her to smile. Decided right then and there that he was pretty interested in her.

But he hasn’t really made a move, yet. The thought that she might turn him down is there. He’s been turned down enough times that rejection isn’t really what’s bugging him. It’s that she never seems to be in a good mood after their shift is done. That, and he doesn’t want it to be uncomfortable for the rest of the summer in case she does reject him. He would still have to catch the bus with her every night and morning. Too bad his dad doesn’t let him take the car to work. He gets it, though. His dad needs the car to go to work.

Well, he’ll figure it out later.

The bell screams, signaling the start of their lunch break.

He joins a group of Farrington guys he befriended over the course of the two weeks. There’re a lot of them working at the cannery, being that the high school is only a neighborhood away from the warehouse district.

“Eh, Naruto, you surf?” Omoi, a dark-skinned Filipino boy with sun-bleached ehu hair, asks.

“Yeah,” he answers, excitement bubbling. But only on the weekends with Shikamaru and Choji. He lives central, not at all close to the ocean, making beach trips longer than ideal. “Why, whatchu thinking?”

A guy they call “C,” Naruto has no idea what it’s short for, leans forward. “We go dawn patrol, Kewalo’s.”

Right after their shift, at the surf break at Kewalo Basin. Sounds solid. “Eh, shoots, we go! Tomorrow den?”

“Yeah,” Omoi affirms. “Prolly gon wash da pine stink off, yeah?”

C’s eyes widen at Omoi’s shoes, shaking his head. “Eh, brah, I no tink so, you dripping pines ova hea, bet yo feet kill, phew!”

“You faka, you no can talk, da flies stay all buzzin’ ‘round you!” Omoi shoots back.

Naruto frowns, considering that Hinata has the same job as Omoi, one of the few guys assigned to a woman’s job. Over the course of the job, Omoi’s shoes had soaked in pineapple juice that dripped from the cutting. This didn’t seem to be as big a problem for Hinata, who, for some girly reason, wore sandals despite the long hours of standing. “How come you no jus’ wea rubbah slippahs?”

Omoi shook his head with a serious expression. “No can fo’ do dat brah. I only get one good pair! Already wen ruin deez shoes, no sense ruin my slippahs too.”

“Dis broke faka ova hea, he no get money fo’ buy one noddah pair from Long’s das why!” C laughs.

Naruto shakes his head, laughing out loud. “No way you dat broke!”

Omoi turns to C, faux annoyance twisting his face. “Eh dis haole ri’ hea like get lickins?”

Instead of looking threatened, C just humorously shoots back, “You like go, we go!”

“Go den, shoots we go,” Omoi answers, squaring up.

“Yeah den go cuz, shoots,” C threatens back.

But neither of them stand.

Naruto rolls his eyes at their idiotic banter. Rarely is he the voice of reasoning, but he supposes it would be a different story if his school friends were here. “Eh we go Kewalo’s shoots.”

They turn back to him, huge grins on. “Yeah, we go!” Omoi says enthusiastically.

“Bring your board yeah?” C reminds him as the bell rings again.

“Yeah!”

He tells Hinata that he can’t go back with her the next day, and she just nods and smiles. Tells him to have fun.

And it’s a slight relief to not worry about the ride back home with her. He’s starting to feel like maybe she’s expecting him to ask her out since they spend so much time together. Well, really, he’s expecting that of himself, but he just can’t right now.

She’s just not any other girl at school in these current circumstances.

Hinata never meant to be one of those girls.

One of those girls, picked up on a stretcher and taken to the medical room to recuperate.

But on the first day of her period, she was exactly one of those girls.

She was feeling so tired. Legs like jelly. Sore up her thighs. Aches digging around her lower back. A weighty twisting in her core. A heavy day. It made her feel lightheaded.

The pineapples, one after another, going by, making her feel a little dizzy, like maybe she needed to close her eyes.

Shutting her eyes for a second didn’t help.

A breath, two breaths, intentional breaths.

She felt like maybe she was going to make herself start hyperventilating, the opposite of what she wanted. She wanted to breathe normally.

Focus on the pineapple.

It felt too heavy in her hand.

Her focus sliding off the pineapple, to the sticky yellow glint of the knife. Back to the pineapple.

She looked up, dazed, her eyes taking too long to adjust to a point on the far wall.

“Hinata, you alright?” Tenten asked.

She tried to refocus on the girl on the opposite side of her. She nodded, blinking, trying to concentrate on their job.

“You don’t look alright.” Her voice was too loud, like everything else going on.

Too loud, pounding.

She closed her eyes, heat searing her temples.

“-nata? Hinata?”

She slowly gains consciousness, to find Naruto looking down at her.

“You okay? You wen faint dey said.”

“Oh,” she manages to utter, trying to get her bearings as the room and bed take shape in her mind, blinking away the dazed vestiges of sleep. “W-what time is it?”

“Our shift only pau now.”

“Oh.”

“You feeling okay?”

She slowly sits up, nodding. “Yeah.” She must not have been out for that long. She really thought she would make it to the end of the night. “Were you waiting for me?” she asks, suddenly panicked at the realization that he is here with her.

“Ah, nah, nah. I come in jus’ now.” He gestures at the door. “You weren’ out dere, so I jus’ wen ask somebahdy. Dey said you wuz in hea.”

“Oh.” That’s good that he wasn’t waiting for her to wake up, but, still, she never expected him to do something like this. “You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs. “No problem. Ready fo’ go? Can walk or..?”

She nods, scooching off the bed-like table.

And he walks with her to check-out with one of the heads, and then back to the bus stop. Waits with her there. And when it’s obvious that he’s going back with her despite the longboard he’s been holding this whole time, she haltingly brings it up. “You not...going surfing?”

He shakes his head carelessly. “Nah, I go tomorrow.”

She ducks her head, biting her lips. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, nah, waves not hitting today, so.” He shrugs, looking past her for the bus.

Obviously an outright lie, but she accepts it over drawing out such an uncomfortable situation.

“You no feel good today?” He sounds honestly concerned.

“Um, I felt fine earlier.” Well, in truth, she felt okay. The normal period cramps. As okay as a heavy day can be.

“You not sick?”

She shakes her head. She wants to sit down. The bench has the older workers sitting down, so she never gets to sit until the bus comes. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, trying to relieve the weight from her hips and pelvis.

It’s such a relief when the bus comes. She ignores the bus driver’s daily grimace and makes for the back row as quickly as she can.

He watches her sit down, audibly sigh, and her whole body kind of just melts into the stiff chair. It’s obvious that out of all the days so far, she’s the most tired today.

Or has she been like this? He just didn’t know because he’s been avoiding her in the mornings?

Ten minutes into the long ride, he’s thinking that it’s a good thing he’s going home with her today because…he thinks she’s falling asleep. Her head keeps jerking in his peripheral vision, so he decides to stop being considerate and turn to look straight at her.

Her eyes are drooping heavily, she’s blinking really hard...she is falling asleep. Or, trying really hard not to.

“Hinata.”

“Huh?” Her eyes fly wide open, obviously forcing herself.

“Sleep, I go wake you up later.”

Her cheeks redden. “Oh, no, I’m fine.”

She doesn’t trust him, or…what? She’s embarrassed?

“You sure?”

She nods. “Yeah.” Her voice sounds too breathy to be fine, but if she says so...

It’s no surprise to him when her body starts slumping over, her head weighing the rest of her body down and toward the seats in front of them.

She’d be even more embarrassed about this position, right? So he reaches over to grab both her shoulders and kind of push her back upright.

Well, that’s what he meant to do.

Her eyes open as if spooked, and she straightens out of his hands. “Sorry!” she gasps. Expression all pinched, she looks like she feels really ashamed.

About what, though? If anything, he feels bad about how tired she is. “No,” he reassures. “No worry ‘bout me.” He’s trying his best to sound comforting… “Should get some rest, s’okay, I go wake you up befo’ my stop. Trus’ me.”

Her eyes squint, like she’s straining to focus. “...maybe. But I don’t like sleep..on da bus.”

He can’t help a laugh. “Ha, you look like you goin’ give yourself da kine whiplash back-an-for'-li’ dat, jus’ relax.”

“Mm…” A noncommittal answer, but one that doesn’t argue, so he can’t push the issue any further, either.

They settle back into the sound of the engine roaring along the highway, and pretty soon, her body’s starting to lean over again. He refrains from helping her, even though she looks uncomfortable.

She looks like she’s going to wake up with a sore neck. Her blood’s probably rushing to her head in that position. That’s not good, right? She literally just had a fainting spell not too long ago. So having her head lean against the rattling window pane wouldn’t be ideal, either. Since they’re sitting at the back, she might really conk her head hard if the bus has to stop.

With more care than the first time, he tries to guide her to lean against him.

For a moment, her eyelids and brows wiggle and bunch up, but swiftly return to their placid state.

It’s nice.

She’s nice.

He should ask her out. She doesn’t ignore him or outwardly show any disinterest, so…sometime he’ll do it. Just of course not today.

When he sees that he’s getting close to his stop, he calls her name, “Hinata. Hinata.”

“Mm.” She sits up and blinks, a hand hurriedly wiping her mouth.

Drool? He’s trying not to smile like a goofball, but kind of failing at hiding his selfish amusement. “I gotta get off now. You gon’ be okay?”

She nods, making eye contact for a second, only for her gaze to immediately skitter away to some unknown point on the bus floor.

“‘Kay, you take care, yeah?”

She nods again, still refusing to look at him, her hands busy everywhere touching her face and then her hair, fixing who-knows-what. She murmurs something.

“Huh?” he asks in a knee-jerk reaction before his brain pieces together that it sounded like an apology. “Oh, no need say dat.” He reaches over to pull the cord for his stop and grins. “Maybe I see you tomorrow, yeah?”

She nods, glances up at him for a second, and looks down once more.

He gets off the bus feeling pretty good about himself in the bright morning sun.

Only to realize--

Maybe he should have made sure she got home all the way.

Maybe he should have gotten off at her stop with her.

The library isn’t really that far a walk back to his own home.

…

She’s probably fine, right?

She wouldn’t have fallen asleep again, right?

Why did she faint anyway?

Should he have asked more?

His consciousness won’t let up. He could call, but if he calls, then he really probably will need to ask her out eventually. Well, he plans on it anyway, but if he calls, then that would really solidify things, and she’d expect something from him by, like, tomorrow.

Well, that’s all hypothetical. If he can even find her name in the phonebook...

...He finds it.

“Who you calling?” his mom asks, teasing him, as she pops up beside him in the kitchen. “Noddah one of your girlfriends?”

“...No…”

“Ohh, you asking a girl out? Why you no jus’ call her? She goin’ turn you down, ah!” she laughs, all by herself. “Who like go out wit you, ah?” Her laughter rings throughout the house.

He wishes he could yell at her to shut up, but then she’d go get the slipper and give him some serious dirty lickins.

So he keeps his eyes on the phonebook, and with his mom’s derision motivating him, picks up the receiver and hooks his finger into the first digit, gaining self-confidence with each pull, release, and spin of the dial.

If it’s the parents, then that’s fine. He’ll make a good impression. Maybe. He doesn’t need to talk to Hinata, he just wants the family to know that she fainted. He gets the feeling Hinata’s not the type to talk about things like that to her family.

But then...maybe the cannery already called them about it.

The dial tone ends.

He takes a readying breath. “...Hello?”

“Hello?” It’s a young girl’s voice.

“Is this Hinata’s house?” he continues, desperately trying to imitate a school valedictorian or maybe a teacher...

“...Yeah...Who’s this?”

“This is Naruto...I, uh, work same place, at da cannery.”

“...She’s not home, yet. And she’s not supposed to talk to boys.”

What? I tought she in dat social club? “Well, I no need talk to her. I jus’ like you guys know that, uh, she wen fainted at work, yeah.”

“...”

“...So, she should be home soon, I get off da bus a little befo’ her, I jus’ like try check she gets home okay..yeah..”

“...Okay.” In the background, he hears a faint voice talking before the girl on the line continues, “It’s a boy.”

“Huh?”

“He’s saying Hinata fainted at work. And that she should be home soon.”

He realizes she’s talking to someone else, so he awkwardly waits.

“Okay, ...uhhmm...” Her voice trails out for a solid second.

She talking to me now? “Oh, yeah?”

“Thank you, I’m gonna go meet her. Bye.”

“Oh-” The line cuts, his own goodbye stuck in his throat. He places the receiver back down, uncertain what to make of that whole exchange, wondering what about it left him dissatisfied. He did what he meant to do, after all... That must have been a younger sister.

“Hinata? You neva talk about her befo’,” his mom observes as she gathers her things for work. “You met her at da cannery?”

“No, she one year youngah dan me at sku’.”

“She wen faint? Why you neva walk her back home, ah?!”

“I no tink dat until aftah!” he defends. “Das why I wen call!”

“You no can get one decent girlfriend acting li’dat, ah!, dis stupid son of mine, ahh, ah, if you jus’ focus on sku’ mo’, get bettah grades, get mo’ smartah, ah,” his mom tuts and laments off on a tangent, and he ignores her.

He sees her off for work at the door, his mind turning back to whether he needs to ask Hinata out tomorrow. Especially since, “She’s not supposed to talk to boys.” What’s that about?

He never does find out. There’s no way he could ask such a question, and the summer passes too fast for him to face her plainly. He’s not sure why, but whenever he imagines her turning him down, the idea hurts a lot more than it should.

Logically, he knows itʻs just a yes or no answer. He’s been turned down here and there. He’s gone on numerous dates, danced with girls, and played silly social games with the opposite sex at parties. And concerning Hinata, she’s a year younger than him, so the chances of seeing her on campus are a lot smaller, so he wouldn’t have to face her that often if she does turn him down.

So why can’t he just ask her out?

She held out hope.

She thanked him profusely the day after, and he was extremely nice to her. He went back on the bus with her for that entire following week's shifts, making sure she was okay, before he determined that she was safe enough without him.

He went back to surfing in the mornings.

The day of their last shift, she held out so much hope.

He didn’t ask her out.

So she tries to shrug it off.

The disappointment.

The deep, far too deep, disappointment. She’s probably just not his type.

But to her surprise, that’s not the last time she sees him before school starts.

Their social clubs host a joint car wash to raise money.

She pushes down her shy feelings, knowing that if he has absolutely no interest in dating her, then there’s really no reason for her to act strangely around him. It would simply be rude of her to ignore him after spending all summer the way they did on the bus together. Gathering her courage, she walks up to him and calls out his name, “Naruto! Hi!” She smiles, hoping to appear as cheerful as possible.

“Oh!” He turns from his friends, already knowing whose voice it was, but still caught off-guard.

She’s dressed really casually--in shorts, a shirt, and rubber slippers, obviously appropriate for the day’s work, but still strange to see on her. He somehow thought maybe she didn’t own casual clothes like that.

“Hinata! Hi!” he responds, a little belatedly. He feels really stupid, somehow his grin feels unnatural, too tense. He watches her smile again and then turn back to her friends.

Something gnaws at his consciousness, like he missed out on saying or doing something he should have done in that moment. Ask her how she’s been in the past week? He just saw her not too long ago, so that would be dumb to ask.

“Whose dat again?”

He blinks out of his stare and turns to Sasuke.

“Hinata. Hinata Hyuuga. We bo’ worked night shift at da cannery.”

“You ask her out?”

“...No, nah yet…” he admits, nerves crawling around, making him feel guilty out of nowhere.

Sasuke raises a brow. “You like her?”

He shrugs his shoulders, frowning, trying to play off the intrusive question as nothing to him. “...Yeah…”

Now both of Sasuke’s brows are raised.

Naruto shifts uncomfortably. Every single second here is making him realize he should’ve gotten the deed done and over with already. Now she’s around all of his fellow club members. Any one of the other guys could ask her out by the end of the day.

She could take a liking to one of his friends. He realizes that his chances were so much higher when it was just the two of them.

She and Sakura walk around helping to pass out sponges and buckets. They introduce themselves to several boys, all of them very friendly.

Hinata herself feels very friendly. After her act of courage in facing Naruto, after getting that difficult exchange done with, she feels pretty bold.

She’s in this social club to have fun! She won’t let a little one-sided crush damper her day!

True that none of the other guys are as naturally magnetic as Naruto, but she knows that first impressions aren’t everything. All of these guys in his social club seem perfectly nice, helping to fill and carry the heavy buckets of water for the girls.

She sets to work on a car, excitedly engaging in discussions about the new school year with whoever works beside her. And with an observant eye, she manages to not work on the same side of a car as Naruto.

Two hours pass in laughter and good spirits, even with how the noonday sun beats down, pouring heat over the asphalt lot.

The once cool water comes out hot from the hose, and the buckets are just puddles of liquid sun she has to dunk her hand and sponge into as infrequently as possible.

The constant bending is nothing to her, though. After a whole summer of cannery work on her feet, she’s pretty sure she’s more fit than last year. She’s not even sweating as much as she thought she would.

Until she gets up too fast.

Her head sears hot, her vision darkening into pinpoints of bright light.

She tries to squint, to see through the sudden tunnels of black, but her eyes burn, and just as quickly, she feels off-balance, her head too heavy to hold up.

She crouches down, face in her hands, confused and pained.

“Hinata, you okay?” Sakura, most likely.

“I can’t see.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t see,” she repeats, trying to stay calm despite the painful splotches of color beneath her eye lids. “It hurts.” And she feels like she’s going to pass out, but she refuses to embarrass herself like that in front of everyone.

“Oh my gosh… Water. Water!” Sakura says louder.

“Wut’s wrong!” Another voice.

Oh no, not that voice.

“She’s dehydrated I think!”

“Oh shit,” he curses.

Hinata sits as still as possible, focusing on not tipping over into a ball and fainting right there on the dirty, poky ground. Not again.

“Here, water,” Sakura says, her voice stressed and concerned. “Can you raise your head?”

“Mm.” She slowly lifts her face and opens her mouth.

A plastic water bottle is placed at her lips, lukewarm liquid flowing onto her tongue. She drinks it dutifully, the pain in her head clearing rather quickly.

She eventually pushes the water bottle away and wipes her lips on the back of her hand. “Thank you,” she breathes out, relieved that her head’s weight is starting to feel normal again. But she keeps her eyes closed, too afraid to strain her vision. Or to see if she attracted everyone’s attention...or to find out if Naruto is still there.

“Do you feel better?” Sakura asks, still sounding way more worried than necessary.

“Yeah, thank you, Sakura.”

“Can you see?”

“I don’t know…” She doesn’t want to test herself too soon, but she cracks her eyes open, if only to assure Sakura that she’s okay.

The world is a bright fog through the slight cracks of her eyelids.

But it doesn’t hurt.

“I’ll be able to see fine in a minute, I think.”

Sakura sighs in relief. “Good.”

A random boy whose deep voice she doesn’t recognize asks what happened.

“She dehydrated,” Naruto answers.

Hinata doesn’t know whether to feel flattered or dreadfully embarrassed that he’s still there.

“Oh, das not good,” the other boy assesses.

“Yeah…” Naruto agrees.

“I’ll be fine in a moment!” Hinata pipes up, her personality automatically choosing to feel embarrassed.

The unknown guy makes a sound of uncertainty.

“Yeah, Hinata,” Sakura adds on. “I don’t think you should help out right away. You could’ve gotten heatstroke.”

“Heatstroke?” she asks.

“Dere’s no shade ‘round hea,” Naruto comments.

Hinata slowly forces her eyes to adjust, hoping to prove them all wrong. “I can see. I’m fine.” She starts to get up carefully.

More sounds of uncertainty resound behind her, and she hates how all three of them are treating her like she could collapse at any moment.

Like, even if she could collapse at any moment, even if that is what just happened, she doesn’t want this to be how everyone sees her from now on. Like some weak, stupid girl who forgets to drink water on a hot day.

Even if that is what she is.

“I can take her home.” Naruto’s invitation has her finally turning around to face her audience.

To her relief, it’s just the three of them, Sakura, Naruto, and a pretty, black-haired Japanese boy she’s seen him hanging out with.

“Yeah, take her home,” the pretty boy says. He claps Naruto’s arm.

Naruto gives some kind of smile that’s really cute, and Hinata has to force herself to try not to examine anything he’s said or done in the past five minutes.

He made her over-examine his behavior all summer, only for it to amount to nothing. He’s just really nice and treats her like a good friend. That’s all.

Sakura helps her walk to his car.

And all too soon, she’s sitting right next to him.

Naruto starts up the engine, blasting the AC so that cool air roars onto their heated faces.

“I’m sorry.” She gulps down a knot of discomfort in her throat, already regretting so much.

“Nah, no need say dat.” His stomach feels sore, his legs antsy. He was trying to nonchalantly work on the cars by her, but somehow, he wonders if she was avoiding him.

She’s too nice to do that, right? She never tried to avoid him at their summer job…

He needs to gauge her interest in him. So after he backs out of the parking space and safely makes it into traffic, he ventures conversation. “How you feeling now?”

She nods. “I feel better. I could’ve stayed, I think…”

“...Oh…” He’s already on Moanalua Home Road, and turning around now would be humbug. “Are you sure?”

“Mm…” She’s not sure. She just doesn’t want to seem so frail.

“‘S'okay, ya know? Already get plenny help, das why, no need chance 'm.”

“Mm...okay… Thank you...I’m sorry…”

With conversation finding its natural, quick end, he finds himself wracking his brain for ideas. He has about five more minutes with her before they get to her house. I should ask her out...I should just ask her...just ask her…

“Oh, I like this song.”

“Hm?” He turns the radio up, glad to focus on something outside of his brain. “Oh, yeah!”

It’s a newish one by Cecilio and Kapono, one he imagines will be really popular at social club dances, the slow tempo is perfect.

Not knowing what else to do to fill the silence, she starts singing softly. She can tell he’s glancing at her, but she keeps her eyes fixed determinedly forward, her gut turning to jelly as the romantic meaning registers in her mind. “...Our small moment that we shared, Is only yours and mine, No one else is really going to know, That I care about you…”

His cheeks flush. This song really is perfect for a social club dance. He never paid that much attention to the lyrics, but with her soft voice singing them, the words are suddenly resonating, hitting a little too close-to-home.

“And all the questions that I asked myself about you…”

He's made up his mind. He’s going to ask her out.

“Won’t you come and be with me…”

Right after this song.

“That if you come and stay you’re going to see, That I care about you.”

He relaxes into his seat, his grasp, unintentionally tight on the wheel, relaxes, too. If she's comfortable enough to sing in his presence, then there's nothing stopping him from feeling comfortable, too. It's actually really nice to know that she's willing to do something like this with him. He's stressed out for nothing. He's hesitating for nothing. And maybe, if things work out, this feeling...this moment...would be normal...

She peeks at him, and...he’s smiling. He’s not teasing, laughing, or grimacing at her. So she continues singing, relieved.

When the song finishes, he lowers the volume, reassured, readier than ever. “Hinata…”

She blinks, realizing they’re really close to her house, and Naruto doesn't know where to go. “Oh! You turn left at the intersection after this light.”

Jarred to the present, he suddenly notices his heart racing, despite how calm he felt not even ten seconds ago. The words get lost on his tongue, and he simply follows her instructions, the opportune moment evaporating into nothing.

“It’s that house,” she points, and he slows, pulling over against the curb.

She turns to him to give her appreciation properly.

But he’s facing directly toward her, his usually cheerful expression one of uncharacteristic focus.

Her heart leaps into her throat.

“Hinata," he repeats. "You like, go movies with me, sometime?”

She nods, speechless, because yes, yes, yes.

And he visibly relaxes. He can breathe again. Her agreement was so much easier than he thought it would be. “I go check da listings den, okay? And I’ll call you?”

She nods, eyes growing wide as everything starts to sink in.

He nods, too, an embarrassed smile working at his mouth. “Talk to you later den, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, a smile forming in reaction. In a fog of happiness, she steps out of the car, nearly forgetting. “Oh, thank you for taking me home!”

He nods, thinking that this won't be the last time he makes sure she gets home. He notices how her happy smile lights up her eyes like earlier at the carwash, but now, it’s directed at him, him only. And once she disappears into her house, more than anything, he feels incredible relief.

And excitement.

He gets the feeling…

She gets the feeling…

This is going to last.

#naruhina2020 #naruhina fanfic #naruhina fanfiction #1970s au #dialect fic #code switching #race changes au #high school au #thank you for reading!

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Good Omens - I Was Given Four Rules to Follow ... I Broke Every One: Chapter 3/3 (Rated PG13)

Summary: When Warlock Dowling is summoned to the old South Downs cottage of Aziraphale and Crowley to help clean out their attic, presumably after their deaths, he is given four rules to follow.

... He breaks every single one.

Read on AO3.

January 15th –

He opened his eyes!

He opened his eyes and looked at me!

After hours of waiting in the dark and in the cold, despairing every second and wishing I was dead myself, he opened his eyes.

But it came close to being all for naught because I almost died myself right then and there.

It was good to see him with his eyes wide open, but the golden eyes I loved so much are gone.

These new eyes are white on white, the pupils infinitely dark, the irises torn. They stare without blinking. They look into me, into my soul, it seems. They connect to the love that runs deep within me, to every touch he has ever left on my skin, to every promise we both made.

But they do not recognize me.

Am I, at all, familiar to him?

I don’t want to reject him, whether he knows me or not. But those eyes unnerve me.

There’s so much about them that’s innocent and frightened.

So much about them that’s desolate and dead.

We literally spent the morning just looking at one another.

I would give anything to know what’s going on in his mind.

What does he see when he looks at me?

I want to reach out and touch him, but I’m afraid. I know it won’t be the same. He won’t be warm, won't be comforting. What could be worse than a dead copy of a once alive and loving creature? I don’t know.

But whatever this is, it might be.

He won’t smell like Crowley. He won’t have his cheek, won't have his soothing voice. It’s almost as if I adopted some wild animal and decided to make it my husband.

What have I done?

***

January 16th –

All day long, he tried to move, grunting with the effort of struggling to stand up and get out of bed. He didn’t speak words; he just groaned. I wanted to help him. I wanted to pretend that he was simply convalescing after a horrible illness. I wanted to bathe him and dress him. I wanted to sit him down in front of the television, prop up his feet, and feed him brandy and ice-cream. I wanted to put this chapter behind us and get on with our lives.

I wanted to make believe him dying had never happened.

But I’m not that good an actor.

He behaves exactly the way the old woman warned me he would. He reminds me of a child.

I never wanted children.

This is the ‘in sickness and in health’ part of the marriage package, which I agreed to without hesitation.

Never mind the ‘till death do us part’ portion.

This comes with my vows, and I will honor them.

My love will help him. I know it will.

…

Can I really do this, or am I fooling myself?

***

January 17th –

I’m trying my best to take the bad with the good.

I managed to get him to the living room sofa. His legs were stiff, and he couldn’t seem to bend his knees.

He had been declared dead-on-arrival because of the injury to his neck. But I wonder if anything else is broken. I wasn’t really paying attention to the doctor when he went over the extent of Crowley’s injuries. After I heard the word dead, I tuned out.

I should get a copy of Crowley’s hospital records.

But if his legs are broken, how will I deal with that? Will the potion magically fix everything? It brought him back to life. Could fixing broken legs be more difficult than reanimating a corpse? What is the extent of the potion's effects? Do I need a secondary potion of some kind to repair internal injuries?

Maybe I should call the shopkeeper back and ask.

We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

He stumbled numerous times and fell on me. I did my best not to cringe at his touch or accidentally drop him. But those eyes, so close to mine, were like looking into a nightmare. I could see through them to the veins and arteries behind, the blood inside them black and unhealthy.

The fourth time he stumbled, though, I got the feeling that maybe he was falling on purpose so that I would be forced to catch him.

I even thought I saw the shadow of a smile cross his lips.

I watched him as he sat in front of the TV and renewed his passion for The Golden Girls. That show had been one of his favorites since he was a small boy.

He sat so still.

He didn’t swallow.

He didn’t appear to breathe.

The only time he moved was when he looked over to where I sat, I think, to make sure I was still there.

He sat for hours and watched TV.

There was nothing else for him to do.

I fed him salad for dinner, let him stay in front of the television instead of making him go to the dining room table. I didn’t see any reason to move him. He leaned down and sniffed the cold lettuce leaves, but he did not eat.

Neither did I.

***

January 19th –

After a full day of limping him around the house, Crowley is surprisingly steady on his feet. He can make it from the bedroom to the living room sofa by himself. It takes him a while, but he can do it.

His body is still in rigor, but he seems to be getting more comfortable with it.

I should be jumping for joy at his progress. The more mobile he becomes, the less dependent he will be on me. Every day that he improves, even a little, he is closer to becoming the man he was.

But I don’t know how comfortable I am with that anymore.

***

January 21st -

He doesn’t sleep. And now that he doesn’t rely on me to get around the house, neither do I. I know he sees me as a parent-figure, so he won’t hurt me. But he’s such an alien creature. Not like the old Crowley at all.

It’s strange having this version of him around the house.

When Crowley was

Before the accident, Crowley was so independent. He didn’t need me, didn’t need my help with anything.

But now, he needs to be near me all the time.

I understood there would be a change in our dynamic, but it’s such a striking change that it’s difficult to get used to.

I took a shower for the first time in days. I left him in the living room watching TV, but when I finished and opened the curtain, there he was, standing there … staring.

I fell asleep for about an hour afterward, and when I woke up, he was kneeling beside me, again staring at me.

He’s always staring.

What does he think about doing when he stares at me?

***

January 22nd –

I finally broke down and gave Crowley a shower. He didn’t stink, but there was something about him, something that smelled … well, I can't seem to find the words to describe it.

I just wanted it gone.

I’ve seen the injuries to his chest numerous times, but I haven't paid much attention to his back.

When I saw them, I almost threw up.

And he noticed.

He heard me gag.

I gasped, held in my urge to be sick.

He turned to face me, and for the first time, he had an expression on his face different from his blank one … but also different from that smile I thought I saw when I was helping him walk around the house.

He looked hurt.

***

January 27th -

Each day that he improves, I debate telling our friends that he's here. I know they miss us terribly. But in the end, it would be too cruel. He’s not himself anymore. He never will be. Most days, I curse myself for doing this to him. My motives were selfish. I wasn’t thinking of anyone but myself when I made the decision to bring him back.

I wasn’t even thinking of him.

Our lives are unrecognizable. We’ll never travel the world like we'd planned. Who knows if I’ll make it back to my bookshop? Should probably shut it down and have my books transported here. The way things look, the rest of our days will be spent in this cottage.

I have to be okay with that.

But what about Crowley?

If you asked rational me if I think he wants to live this half-life, with no potential to be anything other than a human puppet, who only barely resembles the man that was Anthony J Crowley, I would have to say no. Absolutely not.

But I can’t turn back now.

What am I expected to do? Poison his tea? Smother him in his sleep?

Would attempting to kill him even work?

And what about his soul?

If there is a Heaven, I surely pulled him out of it with my cock-eyed plan. What if there is no going back for him?

I can only hope that my love for him is enough to keep him from hating me when he’s able to comprehend what I’ve done to him.

***

February 1st –

I’ve finally gotten him to eat – bits and pieces mostly, bites of vegetables and corners of bread. It doesn’t seem like he likes it, but he eats it, and that’s good. He eats because I tell him to. It shows that he trusts me.

He’s more self-sufficient now.

He showers and brushes his teeth on his own. He picks out his pajamas and dresses himself. Sometimes he tries his hand at making the bed. He is attempting to be more vocal, but he has yet to say a single thing that isn’t a grunt or a moan.

I’ve been looking up the subject of speech delay on the Internet, trying to find ways to help him learn. I came across one website in particular with fun, creative ideas. I started making flashcards of consonant blends and one-syllable words. I felt so accomplished, so hopeful, like I was actually doing something positive toward the goal of moving us forward. I felt confident that after a little work with them, everything would be all right. I was so excited to show them to him, but then I realized …

… I have no idea if he can read.

***

February 3rd –

I tried calling the old woman at the antique shop in Soho to ask about the effects of the potion, but the phone has been disconnected.

I guess they went out of business after all.

It doesn’t matter. Nothing appears to be broken. Or maybe it’s that he doesn’t feel pain.

I was teaching him how to cook, hoping it would bring a bit of the old Crowley back. We used to cook together all the time. Honestly, we weren't all that good at it, but that didn't stop us from trying. We had just gotten the hang of a decent souffle before ...

Anyway ...

I started him small.

I had him grating cheese.

Seemed simple enough. The grater stands on its own, so not much to juggle. But he pressed too hard, ran the grater over the backs of his fingers, scraped off skin. He didn’t so much as flinch. I think it bothered me more than it bothered him. I bandaged it up and, without thinking, I kissed the wound. I looked at him in utter shock …

… and he smiled.

My heart leapt.

It’s so nice to see him smile again.

I never thought I would.

***

February 4th –

I took off Crowley’s bandage, and his wound from the cheese grater is gone! There’s not a trace of it left!

I guess that answers that question.

I should be relieved, but it bothers me, and I don’t know why.

***

February 21st –

Today was the most unexpectedly intense, depressing, and wonderful day all at once.

It started when Crowley woke this morning. He got up before me and tried to make me crepes. I had no idea why. He hadn't tried to cook by himself before, didn't even show an interest in cooking without me. He burned them, himself, and the stove all in one go. The fire alarm woke me, blaring in my ears. I managed to get to the extinguisher in time, but poor Crowley looked heartbroken over his ruined pan of blackened food.

Then, before lunch, he wanted to go outside. I think he was trying to sneak out, but I caught him jiggling the front doorknob (he has yet to master the bolt - thank God). When I caught him, he slammed his hand on the door in frustration and sprinted for the back one. I followed him, knowing it was locked and that he wouldn’t be able to open it. When I reached him, he was trying to wedge his way out of the old cat flap. (Note to self - board up the cat flaps! I don’t know why we kept them. We’ve never owned a cat.)

I patted him gently on the shoulder and asked him what he needed. He stood up and groaned, moving his mouth and wiggling his tongue, making nonsensical sounds. When he couldn’t say what he needed to, he pointed out the window to the garden. I assumed he wanted to check on his dahlias. I’m a disaster with flowers, and, unfortunately, I haven’t been able to keep them up the way he could.

Of course, it's one degree outside. The poor things are frozen solid. They're not even flowers any longer, I don't think, but the frigid remains of what they once were.

But he’d had yet to show any interest in them, either, before today.

I shrugged, repeated that I didn’t understand. He pointed more forcefully, jabbing at the window with his index finger.

“I don’t know what you're trying to tell me, my dear,” I said. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

I've taken him walking around Soho a few times. I've been trying to tie up loose ends, decide if selling the bookshop is the road to take. I wrapped him up in a full-length coat and scarf with just his eyes peeking out. I guess he enjoyed it, but he’d never asked to go outside. He shook his head and pointed again, this time at the dying rose bushes that I hadn’t had time to deadhead. I didn’t get it. I shook my head, and he stormed off to the bedroom.

I followed him there, but he blocked the door.

I could hear him inside, moaning. It was horrible. It sounded like pain and embarrassment and frustration, all rolled together. And I couldn’t help him.

He wouldn’t let me.

I tried to lure him out several times, but he didn’t come out till dinner time.

And when he did, he was dressed in a black Bergdorf suit.

Crowley has dozens of expensive black suits, and he looks stunning in all of them.

But this suit.

This suit in particular.

This suit had been hanging front and center in his closet.

Because it was the suit I had planned on burying him in.

It threw me for a loop, dragging me kicking and screaming back to that day I found out he had died, before I’d decided to try bringing him back, before I knew that I could. I took out the suit to air it. I guess I hadn’t put it back with the others because there it was, standing before me with the living corpse of my husband inside.

The sight took all the air out of my lungs.

“Take it off,” I said quietly, trying not to alarm him, but how was I supposed to explain to my somewhat dead husband that I didn’t want to see him dressed in the suit I had planned on putting him in the ground in?

He looked confused and shook his head, opening his mouth and groaning.

“Please, Crowley,” I begged, hoping he would hear my anguish and understand, “take it off.”

He stomped his foot and shook his head, the way a petulant child would. It should have been cute, but I couldn’t handle it. I've had issues getting used to his looks lo these many weeks, but for the first time since he came back to me, he looked dead.

“Take it off!” I screamed. I ran at him, grabbed the lapels, trying to tear it off his body. He held me, pinned my arms, and I could feel his renewed strength. I hadn’t really let him touch me before, but now I knew that if he wanted to, he could probably hurt me.

I stared up at him, realizing that he was hovering above me, and I was lying on my back on the floor. My heart stopped. He had never looked menacing before. Even in death, he seemed so innocent. But now, he looked like a monster. He had a piece of paper balled in his grasp, and he tried to make me look at it, but I couldn’t take my eyes away from his face – pale and cold and lifeless, regardless of the fact that he was my Crowley.

He stared at me, trying to speak.

It hit me like a pile of bricks.

Speak.

That’s exactly what he was doing.

His lips were moving in exaggerated, grotesque ways that shouldn’t be able to turn sound into words, but they were.

“A … Az … Azi …”

Crowley blinked and shook his head.

“Azir …”

“Aziraphale?” I asked in awe that he was trying to say my name.

Crowley laughed. It was a glorious, hollow, frankly frightening sound, but I couldn’t help smiling when I heard it. He put his fingers to my lips.

I guess he didn’t want me to steal his thunder.

“Azzzir-uh-phale,” he said, smacking his lips. “I … lo … I lov …” Crowley swallowed again, closing his eyes, trying to make the words in his head match the movement of his lips. “I … love … you … Azzzir-uh-phale.”

Crowley tapped again at the paper on the floor. This time I did what he wanted and looked. He had torn off the current page from the calendar and was poking at a box circled shakily in red. I peered down at it.

I could have cried.

“Our ... our anniversary?” I asked, looking into his broken eyes. He sighed, nodding.

It was our anniversary.

He’d wanted to make me breakfast in bed … for our anniversary.

He’d wanted to get me roses … for our anniversary.

My husband had wanted to do something nice for me … for our anniversary.

My husband had spent all day teaching himself how to say, “I love you, Aziraphale,” because there was nothing else he could do for me.

My husband remembered our anniversary ...

... even when I had not.

***

June 4th -

Five months-ish later…

I can’t believe it!

I cannot believe it!

Five months later and we’ve made it! Despite the odds. Despite the difficulties and the heartaches. Despite every time I thought about giving up, here we are.

Happy.

Together.

We spend our days wrapped in each other’s arms. We watch TV. I read books out loud - he sits and listens. Crowley is re-learning how to drive, and I’m on the hunt for a new Bentley. Our lives might not be what they were before, but they’re perfect for us.

We’ve managed to go to the city more, spent a few glorious nights at our flat in Mayfair. We've even interacted with one or two of our old friends. It's a wonder what some foundation and blusher can accomplish! I told them it was a medical miracle, and they believed me.

Because that's what Crowley is.

A miracle!

Okay, maybe I am tempting fate. But maybe fate needs to be tempted from time to time!

His vocabulary has expanded immensely, and a hint of his old suave confidence has come back, along with the muddy accent I so often teased him about.

I am finally at a point where I am optimistic about the future.

Because I’m beginning to think that there might actually be one for us.

***

August 13th –

I woke this morning to a strange squealing noise. At first, I thought it might be the smoke alarm again - odd since we got the cooking situation sorted, I thought. The longer I listened to it, the more I realized it wasn’t the smoke alarm. It didn’t sound familiar at all, so I didn’t worry too much about it. As long as an errant sheep didn’t get hit by a car, there was really no reason to jump out of bed and investigate. After a few minutes of listening to the goings-on outside, I determined that wasn’t the case, so I considered going back to sleep.

But then I noticed that Crowley wasn’t laying beside me in bed.

That isn’t too unusual. He’s normally the first one up on any given day. I just curl back into a ball holding his pillow to my chest until he returns.

He always returns.

The squealing wasn’t really that weird. I’ve thought for the last few months that we might have rats. Or squirrels. Or possums. I’ve heard that same squealing a few times before. But seeing as I can’t find any evidence of rodent-caused destruction anywhere in the house, I haven’t been too aggressive about hunting it down.

My stomach began to growl. I guessed I had been asleep for longer than I thought. Instead of returning to bed, I decided to make some waffles for breakfast. So I got up and went out into the kitchen.

That’s where I found Crowley.

He was crouching on the floor …

… covered in blood …

… biting into the spine of what used to be a raggedy old Maine coon …

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

He grinned his old, sly grin, licked his bloody lips, and said, "Hello, Aziraphale. Can I get you a cuppa tea? I know just how you like it."

He winked at me, and my heart stuttered.

…

I may have a problem.

***

Those are the last words on the page.

A page where the ink is smeared from tears, and the edges crusted in blood.

I haven’t seen Aziraphale or Crowley in decades. They used to send the occasional letter, but those stopped a while ago, and they never call. But something tells me neither of them ever left this house alive.

I’m afraid my time, too, has run out. I came to this house alone. But huddled in the darkest corner of the attic, I hear footsteps coming closer, a sour voice on the wind calling my name …

Ka-thunk …

“Warlock …”

…

Ka-thunk …

“Warlock …”

…

Ka-thunk …

“Warlock …”

…

KA-THUNK!!

***

“Warlock Dowling!” Crowley calls, barging into the attic, footsteps heavy on the worn floorboards. “Are you recording another one of those Clip-Clop thingies again?”

“It’s TikTok, Nanny,” Warlock replies, rolling his eyes, “and no. I’m reading a story for my YouTube channel.”

“Well … you done getting a costume together or wot?” Crowley asks, changing the subject, saving face that he actually understands anything Warlock just said. “Adam and his hooligans are gonna be here in a minute. Aziraphale is gonna have kittens if you’re not ready to go Tricks or Treats!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Warlock says, gathering up his camera. He loves Halloween with a passion, but he’d been eyeing this one journal in Aziraphale’s bookshop for some time now. This video he’s been putting together promises to be epic - the crowning achievement of his burgeoning story channel. Most horror story channels get their material from the Creepypasta Reddit, but he has a unique source of original material … when he can get out to Soho, that is. “I’m coming.” He pulls the lapels of the leather jacket he’s borrowing for the evening together in front to tighten it up.

It’s slim fit as it used to be Crowley’s from back in the day, but thirteen-year-old Warlock still swims in it.

Warlock marches to the door under Crowley’s watchful eye. Before he can make his way through, Crowley stops him, slipping a hand underneath the jacket and rescuing an extraneous prop - an antique journal.

“Have you been snoopin’ through Angel’s old manuscripts again?” Crowley asks, wiping the cover clean. “You know how he feels bout that.”

“I know,” Warlock admits sheepishly, “but my audience loves them! I get thousands of hits off his stories! Besides, I put my own twist on them, freshen them up a bit.”

“Do you now?” Crowley asks with an unamused eyebrow notched.

“Why didn't he get them published?” Warlock shifts gears before the lecturing can start. “He’s an amazing writer!”

“He had his reasons,” Crowley mumbles, flipping through the pages. After skimming a passage or two, he puts it down on a pile of similar journals, a shiver sliding down his snakey spine. “Oof! Those things’ll give you nightmares.”

“They should terrify you. He’s murdered you in every single one!”

“Ah, but he does it with love.” Crowley grins wide enough to swallow his whole face. “It’s an honor.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #tricketyboo2020 #ineffable husbands #ineffable lovers #aziraphale #crowley #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Rumor Has It {10}

Chris Evans x Famous Reader Uriah “Riah” Tyler-Evans

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst, Slight embellishment of actual real-world media

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: You and Chris have been married for four years after a whirlwind romance. You are both happy and trying to navigate marriage in the public eye while balancing your successful careers. In the entertainment industry, not everything is as it seems, the flash of a camera lens impairs vision. As scandal and flashing lights put a strain on your once fairytale marriage is it possible your Hollywood marriage can stand the test of the rumor mill?

**Inspired by a video seen of Chris and his co-star Ana De Armas on their press tour for Knives Out at TIFF where she kept touching his chest and face standing about five inches apart.

**NOTE: A WORK OF FICTION. NOT CREATED TO GARNER HATE OF ANY SORT.

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

**Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤❤

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What’s not to like about photoshoots? Nothing really. You get to wear designer clothes, get your make up done and get pretty pictures taken. Sounds great. Unless you’ve been doing it for almost ten hours. That was your predicament. You’d been shooting pictures for your album cover for the better part of a day and there was no end in sight. You’d tried to keep your energy up, tried to remain in the zone but it was harder than it looked. You were quickly descending into the land of grumpy. All you wanted was your bed a bottle of wine and one of Chris’ shirts.

“All right Uriah, that’s it. A few more shots and I think we’ll be good,” Boris shouted from behind the camera as he continued to snap away. Using that as some solace you held tightly to your resolve and pressed on.

Twenty minutes turned to forty and forty turned to two hours. After three and a half hours Boris finally called wrap. You were exhausted. You sat down with the crew and went through the three hundred plus images hoping to mark your favorites and eliminate those that just didn’t go well. The final decision was going to be left up to you and the record company, but you knew how to make your voice be the final one. You, after all, were the talent. You’d gotten far enough in your career that you held plenty of weight.

You didn’t get to crawl into bed with one of Chris’ shirts and a bottle of wine until near three in the morning. Taking comfort in his scent and the alcohol your unwind was easy. Once the bottle was finished you found yourself nodding off until Chris called. Once you saw his face, you lit up.

“You look tired.” Scoffing you nodded.

“I’m exhausted. Yet another photoshoot for the album. Hopefully, we finally have the album cover art.”

“Okay, that’s great. Are you happy with them?”

“They’re fine. I’m happier to be done with it. How are you?”

“Good, finally getting in.” You watched him set his phone down and peel his shirt off in the frame. Sighing you sunk deeper into the covers and watched the show. It was like he didn’t realize what he was doing. After he’d discarded his shirt his pants followed until he was only in his underwear. You laid there and admired your husband. You’d never get tired of this view.

“It is a shame to be so damn fine.” As if realizing what he’d done he snorted and laughed then took up his phone and carried you with him to another room.

“Me? Have you looked in the mirror lately Mrs. Evans?” You smiled then sighed.

“Is that my shirt?”

“I miss you,” you defended. His groan was long. You heard the rustling of sheets and once the motion of the camera stopped there he was laying in the bed with a sweet smirk on his face.

“I miss you too, dragonfly.” You changed your position in the bed not caring that now his shirt had risen up to your hip exposing your bare thigh to him. You watched as his eyes raked over your skin then back to your eyes.

“I’ve been thinking, after the premier and the hoopla we should take a vacation. You, me, no phones, or work, just us,” Chris proposed. It sounded blissful.

“My god that sounds so good. I think we’ve earned it.”

“I think so too, sweetheart.” The two of you laid there not saying a word just staring at each other. Your connection felt stronger than ever. Therapy had done what it was supposed to. You guys were better than ever. In fact, you were so much better you’d completed your last session with Dr. Danquah feeling incredibly optimistic and pleased with how successfully you’d been.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to fall asleep with each other still on the call with one thought to fall asleep to. Life was good.

-Two Days Later-

“Sounds like a plan,” Zora responded once you’d finished going over your plan for the next three months.

You and Chris had made such great progress in therapy that you felt more hopeful about the probability of your marriage surviving and not just surviving but thriving and becoming better than it ever had been. You’d both learned so much and every day the two of you were diligently working to put what you learned into play. He made a conscious effort to make you feel listened to and not just heard. You made an effort to give him the benefit of the doubt more times than not. Now after successful completion of near nine weeks of therapy, you both felt closer to each other. The love you felt for him had grown when you didn’t think it was possible to love him more.

The rest of your team left your office and it left you, Zora and Kizzy. Zora perched on your desk and watched you sign off on the rest of the contracts that needed to be couriered out. The next three months were setting up to be busy. You’d taken all the time you could and so had Chris. He was now in Los Angeles for meetings and interviews. It was his time to actually be present for the press centered on Knives out especially with it opening in a week.

“How’s Chris doing in LA? This is the first time in weeks you two have been apart.” You nodded at Zora’s inquiry.

She was right. You’d gotten so comfortable having him so close. You’d created a routine that you fell in love with, a routine that you now missed. It had been a week since he’d been gone, and you felt his absence to your core.

“He’s doing good. He says he’s trying to acclimate back into press touring and being away but it’s hard.”

“Uugh, you two are so stinking cute I can’t deal,” Kizzy groaned out. you couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m glad you guys are doing better and found a way back to each other,” Zora added.

You stood and handed her the folder. Once she took them and she nodded and got to work on her laptop scanning them for your records. The next step was sending a copy to your lawyers before sending them back.

Your phone rang loudly in your home office. When you looked at the screen you saw your mother’s name pop up.

“Hi, mama.”

“Uriah, who the hell is this white woman?”

“Uh—what white woman, mama?” Kizzy and Zora both looked amused, they knew your mother’s antics and the way she spoke. They often got a good laugh from it.

“This woman I’m seeing on The Wendy Williams show.”

Your confusion took over. You sighed then groaned. “Mama, I don’t have time to walk you through the who is who of the celebrity world. Try googling her.”

“Uriah Letecia Tyler-Evans. You better know who this woman is. From the things I’m hearing from Wendy, you should have her as top priority on your to-do list. By to do list I mean beat down list.”

Kizzy was the one to snort loudly. You gave her a look that had her clamping her hand over her mouth in an effort to stop any others from escaping.

“Mama, what are you talking about?”

“Turn on The Wendy Williams show now!” Zora approached with the remote and turned the tv on then proceeded to find the right channel. Once Wendy’s face filled the screen the volume increased. You were just in time to hear the audible gasp and “ooh” from the audience.

“Okay mama Wendy is on. What is so important?”

“Wait for it and listen,” your mother instructed.

“So, I don’t know what kind of marriage they have but if this were my marriage, and I know what you’re going to say my marriage fell apart from the same thing—an easy, trifling’ homewrecking whore.” Again, the audience gasped and “oohed”.

“Yeah I know, if you live in a glass house you shouldn’t throw stones but look y’all. In no world is this okay.” A video played of Ana wearing the sweater Chris wore in character in Knives Out. It was evident she had on nothing else but the sweater. She danced around while giving her best sexy eyes to the camera. You didn’t hear a thing else, not from Wendy or the audience, or even the music that was playing on the video. The video stopped and flipped to a picture of her posing in the sweater. You zeroed in on the caption.

“That was weird, anyway what I wanted to say is go see knives out. Also, thanks Chris for the sweater. I think it looks better on me this way, but you can feel free to come and take it and prove me wrong.”

As if you were a bull in the pen you saw red.

“This bitch!” Yours, Kizzy’s and Zora’s voice all merged into one as the three of you said the same thing, at the same time the same exact way. You looked at them and the looks on their faces made you wonder if you looked the same way. Pissed.

“First of all, this is all levels of inappropriate. I may be jaded and reading into things too much but ol’ girl didn’t have to put his sweater on with nothing else on. She posted this for a reason besides promo for their movie. Second, this is a thirst trap if I’ve ever seen one, now it’s not as extreme as others but a low-level thirst trap is still a thirst trap. This is a thirst trap of testing the waters. This is definitely flirtatious. Also, the caption, girl.” Wendy’s face said it all.

“Girl you know you not slick. This is disrespectful on all levels to this man’s real wife Uriah Evans. Again, I don’t know what kind of marriage they have but this isn’t the first time I’ve seen some suspect behavior from this woman toward Chris Evans. I get it he’s hot, he is a fine piece of white chocolate. The draw of a married man is appealing it’s like a competition but girl no. This man has a whole wife. Back off.”

The audience clapped and cheered.

“Do you see now Uriah. Now, who is this woman? You better tell me this isn’t the same trollop that tested your marriage a few months ago.”

“Mama I’ll call you back.” You hung up and prepared to dial Chris but before pressing the green call button you paused and thought about what you were about to do and what you were about to say. Every instinct in your body was saying blow up and rain hellfire on him, but thanks to the last months of work in therapy, part of you hesitated.

“Fuck!” You hit the desk and took several deep breaths. “This bitch really is grinding my last fucking nerve!”

“For good fucking reason. What the hell is that? Did Chris really send that to her?”

You had no idea. He very well could have. Again, you stopped and thought about things. He wouldn’t dare, not after everything you’d been through these last months, not after everything you came so close to losing. Still, there she was wearing the sweater. You looked back to the paused tv and examined the freeze frame of the picture. She looked so damn pleased with herself. Before you could fester anymore anger your phone rang again. This time it was Chris.

“Give me a minute, guys.” Kizzy and Zora walked out giving you a little privacy before you answered your phone.

“Hey, baby. I miss you,” Chris said with a smile on his face. You took another deep breath and tried to push away any ill will.

“I miss you too.”

“Are you okay?” He was walking around making you dizzy. When he finally stopped he sat down in perfect lighting.

“Yeah, I’m good. How are you? What’re you doing?”

“I just finished up wardrobe here in San Diego, getting ready to do yet another interview.” He leaned back and sighed.

“Okay, cool.” You couldn’t find anything else to say. You didn’t want to blow up at him or even ask him because you didn’t want to give him the impression you didn’t trust him. You understood now, you trusted him you just didn’t trust her.

“Are you all set to come out? I can’t wait to see you.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll be on a flight day after tomorrow. I’m just finishing up some loose ends.” His smile was bright, and a glimmer caught your eye.

Squinting your eyes, you locked in on it then looked back to the tv at her background. Your eyes went back and forth for several moments before you felt the pit of your stomach fall. The backgrounds were one hundred percent identical. Her picture and video were taken from his room.

~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!! ❤️❤️

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#rumor has it fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #Chris Evans X black reader #black fanfiction #chris evans x uriah

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vanchlo · 4 years ago

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The Assistant / Chapter Forty-Five, “Evermore”

*Gif’s not mine*

Clickable Links:

- Masterlist feat. all chapters and Character Surveys

- Inspo tag

- Hecky Playlist

- Read on Wattpad

- Warnings: Mentions of hospital care

- Word Count: 7k words

“Her face is stuck in every place.

The front door, the ghost of her winter boots on the door mat, the barstools at the kitchen island where we laughed over glasses of her Rebecca wine, the crusty banana bread forgotten on the counter, the head of the kitchen table where we burned our mouths on pot pie, and that’s not even the worst of it. The blanket from Sunday night remains in a messy pile on the sofa, just how we had left it. My chest shakes harder with another sob at the sight of it, and the wine glasses I had forgotten on the coffee table beside the bottles of nail polish.

Memories flood my insides when I sink onto the cushions, my head in my hands as her laugh from only three days ago fills my ears.”

Music Inspo: Hold My Girl by George Ezra (click to listen)

“Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes. Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such.”

― Henry Miller

I’m woken from my dreams due to movements within my arms. Knuckling at my eyes with a groan, I look around, feeling regrettable about the reality that I had come back to. The one that I was previously immersed in was far better, and brings a reminiscent smile to my lips at the remembrance of. Settling my eyes on her, wrapped up safely inside of my arms, my lazy lips curl into a larger smile at the thought.

Her with her own arms holding a blue-eyed, dark-haired little baby with me at her side. Talk about dreamy.

Her forehead is warm underneath my lips, and soft as ever. The creamy vanilla lotion she uses leaves hints of the fragrance across her face, one of the few necessities Skye grabbed from home today. I brush away the loose waves that drape over her skin, but within seconds, I wish that I hadn’t when I find the stitches and colors claiming her.

A noise interrupts my thoughts and when I look up, the nurse is standing at my side clearing her throat. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she’s shaking her head at me.

“Harry,” she sighs, wagging a finger at me dramatically.

“Kristi, I know, ‘m not s’posed t’ be up here. ‘m sorry, but she was hysterical from a nightmare, and I couldn’t get her t’ calm down,” I confess in a dry voice.

Relenting with a sigh, she whispers her reply, “Alright, but you need to be careful of her IV tubing, as well as her injuries. I don’t want anybody else in her family thinking that we allow this kind of thing,” she pauses to wink, and I nod with understanding. “I’m glad you mentioned the nightmare, though, that’s something that I need to record.”

She follows up her lecture with a few quiet questions about the nightmare Becks had, and she types them in the laptop she brought in with her. Her eyebrows greeted her hairline when I mentioned Becks saying that she’s starting to remember, and that being the sole reason for the nightmare.

It could never feel sufficient, the number of whispery kisses I press to her battered skin, asleep or not. Bloody hell, is she so beautiful, I muse while admiring Becks below me, sleeping peacefully. Finally. I never want to stop kissing her, but soon after those thoughts sound in my skull, my heavy eyelids yell for me to close them. Giving in, they win and I fall into the soundest sleep I’ve had in days.

My own name rouses me from my sleep, and it takes a few moments of adjusting to remember where I am. It’s quicker than yesterday, making me realize how used to all of this I’m getting. I’m not entirely sure how to feel about that, but it’s all washed away when I find the baby blue pair of eyes waiting for me.

“Morning,” she rasps, her voice sounding almost entirely hers now. I couldn’t be happier about it as her head remains on my shoulder, eyes poised towards me.

“G’mornin’, my sweet. How’d ya sleep fer tha rest o’ tha night?” I yawn, tapping her nose with my finger.

“Great,” she smiles and I nod happily, soon echoing her words. “Best I’ve slept here so far.”

“‘m so happy t’ hear that, bug,” I grin and she just stares back at me, something ethereal covering her body in front of me. My, is she something else entirely, I wonder silently. Glancing to my watch, my eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling. “Reckon we both needed it, ‘s bloody ten in tha mornin’, love.”

The softest of laughs tickles my ears, yanking my lips towards the sky effortlessly. There it is, at last, my favorite sound in the entire world. Well, next to her sing-song voice, that’s my favorite song of all.

“I missed hearin’ that,” I whisper, brushing the back of my finger against her satiny cheek. She just continues to smile, and my heart couldn’t feel fuller in this moment.

She’s okay, she’s smiling, she’s laughing, she’s so goddamn beautiful even with bruises and stitches, she’s mine, and she’s okay.

“How’re ya feelin’, bug? I hope I didn’t knock into ya in tha middle o’ tha night, or hurt ya or anythin’.”

“I’m okay, kinda hungry,” she answers, combing a hand through her hair and pausing to scratch an itch. “Head feels heavy and hurts though, and my tummy a little too.”

“That’s good yer hungry, yer appetite ‘s comin’ back. Here, lemme slide out and ‘ll press on yer pain pump.”

“No, Harry,” she objects, grabbing hold of my arm the second I make a movement. “Don’t leave, you’re all warm,” she whines, moving closer to me and grabbing a fistful of my button up in her hand.

Now, it’s my turn to giggle, “‘Kay, but only a few mo’ minutes, I don’t wantcha t’ be in pain, babe,” I coo, beginning to drag my fingers through her hair, but when I watch her eyes close, I stop. I know that she’ll fall back asleep if I do and she needs it, but I’m reminded of the day nurse emphasizing yesterday the importance of her needing to eat. “Don’t fall asleep again yet, bug, ya need yer breakfast. Ya gotta eat t’ heal and get betta.”

“Okay,” she sighs sadly, slowly opening her eyes and looking back up at me.

“Yer eye ‘s lookin’ betta. Reckon it doesn’t help much without yer glasses tho’,” I snicker and her smile grows an inch. “Skye was gonna bring some contacts o’ yers from home t’day, and see if you could wear them. I bet that’d help loads.”

“Yeah,” she hums in reply. “Are you gonna go home too?” Becks asks gently, a curious sadness hidden behind her words. She’s never been very good at hiding her feelings, let alone lying, and I’ve come to be rather good at reading her.

“For a li’l bit, if that’s okay with you.”

“But I’ll miss you,” she answers, looking away to hide the wetness growing in her eyes, but I catch it at the last second. My thumb finds a holding on her chin, and I turn her head to look back at me.

“I won’t be gone long, bug, and it’ll prolly be later when sumbody else can be here with you. Jus’ wanna go home and grab a few things, and shower so I don’t stink anymo’,” I tell her, willing her to look me in the eyes. To my surprise, she does almost the second the thought trickles into my mind. The sight of her glassy eyes wrenches at my heart, and brushing them away with my finger hardly helps. “And t’ pack a bag so I have clothes and me things t’ keep me set here fer awhile so I don’t hafta leave again fer a while, besides showers. ‘ll hafta see if they have a family room o’ sorts t’ take showers here or sumthin’.”

“Okay,” she says, closing her eyes once again. Another tear leaks from her eye and I catch it as soon as it escapes. “Come back.”

“Always, Becks, y’know that,” I tell her, eliciting a nod into my chest.

“I felt so much better sleeping next to you. Safer.”

“Me too, baby. I wish we could do it ev’ry night, I like havin’ ya tucked away in me arms all safe and sound,” I echo, smoothing back her hair before I plant a kiss to the crown of her head. My special spot. “I love you,” I mouth against her hair, much too afraid to let the sounds free from my lips with all that’s going on and the perhaps fluke from the other night. “So much.”

“Stop,” she giggles against my cheek, and I swear, there’s never been a better song written in the whole universe. I continue to scatter kisses across her face, until my last one finds her nose. “Go home, you smell.”

“Hey!” I protest, finding her happy smile with my own two eyes. A sight in and of itself. “I don’t smell.”

“Yes, you do,” Becks giggles, the sound slowly falling away as my eyes find hers. Within a blink, her lips find mine and press a deep kiss to my own. It couldn’t last long enough and then I’m looking into those eyes that I hope and dream my children get to have, but it’s forgotten when hers flood with tears. “I’ll miss you.”

“‘ll be back inn’a hour, love, no longa than that. I promise,” I insist, holding her cheek in my hand, and saddening at her question of what I’m doing again. “‘m goin’ home t’ take a shower, pack a bag, and grab me car. I won’t be long.”

“Oh yeah, I remember you saying that now. I’m sorry, I can’t remember for shit,” she frowns, eyes growing wetter by the second.

“‘s okay, ‘m here t’ help ya rememba. Are ya sure you’ll be okay with me gone for a li’l bit? Skye, yer dad, and Robbie are here. Try t’ get some rest while ‘m gone, ya need it,” I say, drawing waves back and forth on her cheek and pressing a quick kiss to her lips that I can’t resist.

“I’m fine, Harry. I wanna watch Harry Potter.”

“No, ya need t’ sleep, honeybug. Ya watched tha whole second one with me, that’s two and a half hours, Becks. Ya haven’t slept since ya woke up, and that was five hours ago,” I argue, widening my eyes at her and wishing she’d surrender her stubbornness already. “Stop bein’ stubborn,” I giggle, and it only comes harder when her features fall into her famous pout, one that’s harder to resist given the circumstances. She’s just too bloody cute.

“Fine,” she sighs, blinking hard and soon yawning.

“Told ya yer tired, ya gotta listen t’ me sumtimes, cuz ‘m right.”

“No, you’re not,” she smirks, and I roll my eyes with a snicker.

“See ya soon, brat,” I chuckle as her eyes fall closed, pulling the blankets up past her shoulders and tucking them underneath her. The sight of her white arm cast will never get easier, I suspect, but who said that any part of this has gotten easier on Day Two? “‘ll be back inna hour, my sweet. Get some rest, and ‘ll see if tha nurse will let us have a cuddle when I get back. Sweet dreams, Becks.”

“Bye, Harry. Drive safe,” she drawls, words floating away from her as sleep nears her. “Come back.”

“I will, baby. Always,” I hum against her forehead, leaving one last kiss there. Straightening my back, my thumb remains glued to her cheek, only leaving to wipe away the tear that escapes from my eye. “I love you,” I whisper under my breath, taking the first step away from her.

I’ve always found it hard to walk away from her, but I couldn’t hate it more than I do in this very moment. It’s never frightened me so much to leave her, as it does now, seeing as I know how quickly things can change when one leaves.

“She’ll be okay, I’ll sit with her.”

Turning my head, I lose sight of Becks and find Skye waiting a few steps away with a book tucked into her hands.

“Thanks, keep me updated if erm, anythin’ happens.”

“It won’t, but I will, Harry. It’s okay,” she agrees aloud, but my eyes have already ran away from her and back to Becky. Over my shoulder, I can just make out the sounds of her soft snores outside the door of her room. I already miss her, and I haven’t even left her yet, I think as another tear races down my cheek. This keeps happening, I’ve found, but it doesn’t become any easier to leave. “The first time you’ve left her for more than ten minutes, huh?”

“Ya,” I croak, meeting her eyes through my blurry ones. Nodding at her, I lift my leaden feet to take another step. “Take care o’ her fo’ me.”

Her face is stuck in every place.

Memories flood my insides when I sink onto the cushions, my head in my hands as her laugh from only three days ago fills my ears. I can still feel the touch of her knitted jumper between my fingers from that night, the delicacy of her fingers swiping nailpolish over mine, and the sensation of her hands in my hair and her socked foot trailing up my leg underneath the kitchen table. These thoughts fill my head as I drag myself up the stairs, and although she didn’t venture up here that night, I can’t leave her down there. I remember the night she hauled my drunk ass home, even if it was years ago, and helped me into bed. That’s not even touching all of the nights I stared up at the ceiling, longing to hear her voice, and then the nights where I smiled up at it, knowing I’d hear it tomorrow and every day after that.

They threaten to never leave as my wrinkled suit falls to the floor of my bathroom, the sight feeling peculiar and welcomed all in one. Staring at it with a hazy sight, I toss it into the hamper, thinking of possibly burning it until I remember the first day we had at work together in it. Swallowing, the knot within my throat joins the pity party as the hot stream of water cascades down my body. I remain there under the scalding water, observing it disappear down the drain as it washes away the sadness pouring onto my cheeks.

The tears don’t disappear when wrapped in a towel, I sadly smile at the picture Skye sent of Becky smiling lying in bed.

Here’s a smile for you from Ree! She already misses you …. had a little nightmare again but she was okay and I was there. She’s asleep again now, and time for dinner soon. Take your time Harry, she’s ok xx

An onslaught of them now coat my cheeks - regret, anger, and sadness all balled into one being born inside of me at the thought of her waking up scared without me there. Sniffles and whimpers are all that leave me and fill my surroundings as I lay folded clothes inside of the biggest duffel bag I could find, as many joggers, jumpers, t-shirts, and beanies that I can fit before the zipper won’t zip. Only then, do I remember I need to pack other things. Unpacking a few pairs of socks and shirts, I stuff my bag of shower things into the side, chargers, my laptop Myles dropped off from work, deodorant, cologne, a random book I’d always meant to read, vitamins, random snacks, a favorite blanket from the linen closet, and my steel water bottle. I thread a pillow through its handles, glancing over to my unmade bed, missing the person who woke up in it on Monday morning, unbeknownst to the despair and misery that would soon kidnap his happiness.

Exhaling loudly, I drape the strap over my shoulder and begin my steps back to her. I’m coming back, Becks, like I always said I would.

Her soft sounds bounce around the room while the third Harry Potter hums in the background. Finding the remote on her bedside table, I click it off and drown the room in silence. With full hands, I take quiet steps over to her, a smile having already claimed my lips the moment I parked my car. Peace paints her face and I couldn’t be happier being back with my Becks, not wanting to leave her again, and hopefully not again until all of this shit is over.

Her slow breaths tickle my skin when I bend down to press a kiss to her forehead, welcomed by her vanilla scent. Her snoring continues to paint the air as I walk away briefly.

A soft tap! interrupts the absence when I set down the clear vase, swiftly rearranging the stems below me. I leave the small black box beside it and cross the room, leaving my heavy duffel bag on the floor beside the sofa and out of the way.

“Harry?” a voice rasps from behind me. Turning around, I find her little head of dark hair stirring.

“Shh, go back t’ sleep, bug,” I coo, sliding off my coat that I drape over the sofa.

“Are you back or am I dreaming?”

“‘m back, Becks, jus’ got here,” I answer her gently, making quick work of walking over to arrive at her side. “Hi,” I hum happily, feeling a warm jolt to my heart when a smile curls into her cheeks.

“Hi, Harry,” she giggles, a pink at last finding her cheeks.

“Hi, my love,” I smile, dipping down to carefully surround her with my arms and in the process, covering her with kisses. “I told ya I wouldn’t be gone mo’ than an hour. ‘m sorry ya hadda nightmare without me, I hope yer okay . . Hope ya still got some rest.”

“I’m okay, and I did. I’m glad you’re back, I missed you,” she whispers against my neck, pressing a lazy kiss there.

“I missed ya mo’.”

“No, I missed you more,” she argues, a giggle finishing her words. “Most . . I missed you most.”

“Fine, ‘ll give it t’ ya.”

“Good,” she smiles, resigned with success that I find when I pull away to look at her. Shock finds its way back to me at the once again sight of her bruises and stitches after an hour of forgetting them. “You smell good.”

“Why thank you, I took a shower.”

“You look comfy,” she adds on, taking hold of a string from my maroon Rolling Stones hoodie, toying with it between her fingers. The IV tubing dangling from it still sends jolts across my heart.

“I feel betta now, I can tell ya that.”

“Good,” she coos, playing with the second string now too. I can’t resist any longer and steal a random kiss from her lips, finding her blushing smile afterwards. “Aw, did you get me flowers? They’re purple!”

“‘Course they are, I had t’ get yer favourite color, babe,” I answer proudly, stepping away to grab the tall vase from her bedside table. “Looks like ya got a few mo’ since ‘ve been gone too. Ya sure are loved by many, Becks.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“Jus’ like sumbody I know, I wonder who that could be,” I comment teasingly, returning to her bedside to show her the vase of violet roses. “Honey, don’t cry, ‘s okay.”

“You’re so sweet, thank you,” she blubbers, tears flying from her eyes that she can’t wipe away fast enough. A long ‘aw’ jumps from my lips as I set the vase back down and return her to my arms.

“Yer welcome, anythin’ fo’ me girl. I saw all tha flowers you were gettin’ and figured it took me long enough t’ get ya some.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t have to,” she hiccups into my neck, finding holdings on the back of my jumper where she clings to me.

“Yes, I did, and I wanted t’ . . Reckon I should wait on yer present so ya don’t cry anymo’.”

“A present?!” she whispers excitedly, and my giggle soon finds a friend in hers.

Moving away, I leave her with yet another forehead kiss, wiping surprise tears from my own eyes. I catch the budding ones that fall from her waterline before grabbing the little box beside her flowers. ‘Ooo’s and ‘awww’s fill my ears when I open the box and slide the simple gemstone bracelet onto her wrist.

“I saw it and thought o’ you right away, jus’ like with tha flowers. I hope ya like it, seein’ how ‘s purple and all,” I say, pulling on the two ends of the string to tighten it.

“I love it, Harry,” she croaks, tears catching on her words as she stares down at the shades of lavender, cream, and violet claiming her skin.

“Perfect.” With a chuckle, I find my way into her arms after she tugged on my hoodie strings.

“I betta tie those things up, seein’ you already know how t’ use ‘em. ‘s a bit scary really,” I titter against the top of her head, smoothing back her hair. Profuse ‘thank you’s scatter the air, and I feel a stitch begin to heal my heart, ever so slowly. Her tears aren’t alone as I sniffle above her, my arms wound around her shoulders ever so gently.

“Alright?” she mumbles, and a bittersweet smile joins the party.

“Ya, ‘m alright if yer alright, Becks . . Are you?”

“Yes, I always am if you’re there.”

“Me too, babe, me too,” I hiccup, the tears coming hot and fast now, falling into her hair. Always.

Yawning, voices trickle over as the door to the bathroom shuts behind me. Carding a hand through my hair, I follow the familiar sounds until I’m back by the family room scattered with chairs. Now, blankets, bags, and fast food wrappers claim the tables next to Skye, Robbie, Chuck, Asher, and a tall, blonde woman I don’t recognize.

I’m spotted and soon waved over by Asher, “Hey, how’s she doing? Did she eat all of her dinner?”

“She’s good, restin’ now, and almost all o’ it. Didn’t care fer tha green peas tho’, but I dunno how she can’t like ‘em,” I grin jokingly, but it doesn’t remain as my eyes follow the unfamiliar woman standing beside Robbie. “D’ya know who that ‘s?” I ask him, turning to meet his eyes, but they fall away, only hinting at the danger that’s brewing.

“Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met. You are . . ?” the strange lady says, stepping forward with her arm stretched out. A long brown sweater covers her body clad in black jeans and a frilly blouse. The slope of her button nose and slightly oval face quickly piece together the puzzle pieces for me, and I know. “I’m Becky’s mum, Kate. Are you her boyfriend, or something?” she laughs jokingly.

“Ya, I am actually,” I answer coolly, hesitantly shaking her hand while struggling to make eye contact with the very person I’ve heard so many awful things about. Yet, I can see Becks in her, perhaps only hints of her, but I see them. “‘Scuse me,” I mumble, stepping away and with pounding steps, I find Skye perusing the magazines on the shelf against the wall.

“I need t’ talk t’ you,” I tell her flatly, stopping at her side.

“What do you want, Cosmo, Bon Appetit, GQ, Rolling Sto-,” she jokes, flipping her faded blue hair over her shoulder, brunette roots bleeding into the off white.

“No, I don’t want a bloody magazine. What tha fook were you thinkin’ tellin’ Becky’s mum t’ come here?” the question explodes off my lips, and I find it a feat to keep the words between the two of us. Her eyebrows near her hairline and she forgets the magazines, turning to face me.

Arms crossed over her chest clad in a 90’s Rugrats jumper, her features fall into a crouch as I wait for words to leave her, “Ree said that she could come, we asked her.”

“What tha fook ‘s wrong with you lot, askin’ her ‘bout that while I was gone?!” I retort, a hand escaping my pocket to help me do the talking.

“She’s not just yours, Harry, you know that?” she spits back, shaking her head in disbelief, it seems.

“No shit, Sherlock, but how in tha hell did ya think that was a good idea? Huh, where were you when her mum exploded on her all o’ those times at work, callin’ me bloody office t’ speak with her ‘cuz she was ignorin’ her phone, or jus’ a few weeks ago, huh?” I ask adamantly, searching for the answer in her cold blue eyes.

“No, I wasn’t there, but I was there for almost every other time, Harry. I was there comforting her after every row all throughout primary, secondary, and then on. She’s my best friend too, Harry, so don’t you even talk to me about being there for her, because you can’t fucking talk,” Skye retaliates, the words hitting me in the gut, but my mission propels me forward.

“That’s not tha fookin’ point, you should bloody know afta bein’ here tha last two days that she’s nowhere near ready t’ see her mum, Skye. She was inna bloody car wreck - she has a concussion, had emergency surgery, and ‘s on a handful o’ drugs that keep her from thinkin’ straight. Befo’ I left, I told her where I was goin’ and not even two minutes later, she couldn’t rememba what ‘d said. She’s not in her right mind, Skye, so how d’ya think it was okay t’ bloody ask her if her abusive mother could come t’ visit? Yer s’posed t’ be on her side, Skye, on Becks’ side,” I snap, and the fire still resides in my chest when I turn away to stomp down the hall.

I wish I knew how to fix this, because I know that I’ll have to be the one who has to. I wish so fucking badly that I knew how to fix Becks, and I don’t, and I’m all the further away now.

Crack.

I feel it inside of my ribs when I stop in her doorway, finding her eyes pointed towards the small flatscreen mounted to the wall. My throat becomes a sister to the Sahara rather quickly, and I can’t blink away the tears fast enough, because she notices me within moments. Under the spell of prescription drugs and painkillers, and she still has that feeling of hers down pat.

“Hi, honeybug,” I rasp, failing to swallow my pain and all of the words that I’m hurting to say.

“Where’d that nickname come from?” she grins, forgetting the Marvel movie on the television.

“I dunno, ‘cuz yer my bug and yer so goddamn sweet,” I explain to her, sitting down on the patch of unclaimed bed beside her.

“Alright?” she questions, dark eyebrows falling into a line. I can’t find the words and my name falls from her mouth next. I’m sure that if I looked at her heart rate monitor, it would have picked up by now due to concern.

“No,” I finally mutter, freeing my bottom lip that had become trapped between my teeth. Kneading my prickly chin with my thumb and forefinger, I have to look away from the worry harming her face. A warm tear begins a waterfall on mine, and to my surprise, she wicks it away with her thumb.

“Tell me,” she says coolly, cradling my cheek in her hands. Yet, it doesn’t make it any easier to say the next few words I know that I need to speak. Bittersweetness coats my tongue as she holds me in her hands and roots me there to the spot with those azul eyes that fill my dreams.

“Yer mum’s here,” I confess softly, forcing the words until they come tumbling out.

The shock and misery that debilitate her features at my words is next to nothing when we both hear the words that enter the room, “Hi, bunny.” I don’t need to turn around, because Becky’s face tells me all that I need to know, that her mum is already here.

“No,” Becks mutters, eyes glassy with an army of tears. Her head shakes quickly from side to side, and her hand falls from my face to clutch mine with dear life. “Harry, please no.”

“‘m so sorry, bug, it wasn’t me. I promise, I promise,” I confess tearfully, leaving her side to stand. If I had wanted to take another step, she wouldn’t let me, because my hand begins to hurt from how hard she’s holding onto it.

“Hi, Becky, it’s mum.”

“No, no, no, no,” Becky exclaims before me, emotions flying from her blues that beg at mine, sobs shaking her chest.

“Please leave, she d-doesn’t want you here,” I plead, lifting my head to find her mother walking around her bed to the other side.

“Excuse me? She’s my daughter, I-,” she begins, but Becky’s onslaught of ‘no’s pierce the air, threatening to never leave. My other hand comes to cover our joined pair, massaging circles into her skin where the IV doesn’t live.

“She doesn’t want you here, can’t you see that?!” I exclaim, stepping forward and closer to Becks, unsure of what more I can do. The only thing I can think of is to grab her by the shoulders and make her leave, but more than one reason refutes that, including the fact that Becks won’t let me leave.

“She’s upset and tired, she doesn’t know what she wants,” she, whatever her name is again, contends with emotion twisting her features into confusion. Swiftly, the hints of Becky are gone in her and the fear she finds in her mother’s face is shared with me and with those darkening eyes. “She is my daughter and I can-.”

“Harry, make her leave, please!” Becks shouts below me, head going from side to side in denial, and sobs stabbing at my ears.

“What’s going on here?” another voice demands, and already two days in, I know that it’s the day nurse, Shannon. Words flee her mother and I, while Becky’s insistent ‘no’s surround us. “Who are you?”

“I’m her mother, I’m here to see my daughter, Becky,” she insists from across me, reaching out a hand to touch Becks that she shrinks away from. Another crack resounds in my chest at the sound of her sobs growing louder.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to leave, you’re upsetting her too much,” Shannon announces emphatically, mentioning something about Becky’s vitals rising, only now drawing my eyes to the neon numbers. I wouldn’t have noticed it, although I try to tell myself that I would have eventually, but she’s right. Becky’s pulse is well over one-hundred, and her blood pressure is reaching dangerous numbers, and my heart picks up speed behind my ribs. I’m rather sure if I was hooked up to one of those, they wouldn’t look too good, either, with what’s going on. “Please leave before I call security.”

Relief doesn’t find me for several minutes, and it takes twice as long to arrive for Becks who still whimpers below me, the tears nowhere near stopping. The ones waiting in my dugout finally answer their call when the nurse mentions giving her something to calm down.

“No, I got it, jus’ gimme a few minutes. I can get her t’ calm down,” I insist tearfully, swallowing against a desert while rainfall covers my cheeks, and hers. “Hey, ‘s okay, baby, ‘s okay. Deep breaths, ‘kay?” I coo to Becky, but I’m well aware of the lack of conviction in my voice.

“Is she gone?” she cries and I nod quickly.

“She’s gone, bug, and ‘ll make sure she won’t come back, I promise. You don’t hafta worry.”

“I don’t wanna see her,” Becks confesses with a hiccup. Lifting my hand from our intertwined pair, I comb back her dark waves that nudge at her eyes.

“I know, Becks, I know. She’s gone,” I hum, catching her tears with the slick pad of my thumb before going back to stroking her hair.

“Why was she . . ?”

“I dunno, bug, there was a misunderstandin’,” I answer her, unsure of my words and every single thing that I do. I’m unsure if it helps, but I know that there’s nothing I’d rather be doing in this moment. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, even in my ignorant dreams.

“It wasn’t you, I know you wouldn’t,” she cries, shaky breaths escaping her lips when I ask her to take deep breaths with me.

“No, ‘d neva invite her, Becks. I dunno her name even.”

“Thank you,” she says with a hard gulp, with no allusion to what for, but I know. The hair stroking isn’t making a difference, because the tears are still coming at a record speed and I’m lost for words, and everything else too.

“Will you cuddle me, p-please? Feels like I c-can’t breathe,” she almost wails, her pained face dissolving with the words that she speaks.

“‘Course, bug, ‘m so sorry . . Keep takin’ deep breaths, I know you can do it, baby. ‘m right here . . in and out, that’s it. Keep goin’,” I tell her, toeing off my Vans that I wore for her whilst picking the oxygen cannula back up to thread into her nose. “Scooch over, Becks, don’t wanna hurt ya.”

A few more tendrils of relief find their way to me when she’s back in my arms, and I couldn’t care less what the nurse has to say, because nothing could feel more right than this. I’m only confirmed of that when she wiggles her way into my arms almost immediately and her head finds my chest, the tears soon wetting the fabric.

“Can you sing it to me?” Becks requests and an instant confirmation fills the air.

“Wise men say only fools rush in,” I begin, my fingers dancing through her hair and my lips leaving kiss after kiss atop her head. With my mouth ghosting over her hair, my eyes wander to the heart rate monitor. As the song paints the air around us, I watch as the numbers slowly start to fall while her crying quiets.

Only moments after finishing the last line of the song and for the second time, do her snores fall against my chest, and can I finally breathe. I lie there, counting the freckles scattered across her creamy white skin and wait for the tears to at last leave my eyes. Carefully, I move my body away from hers and lay her head down on the pillow, lastly draping the blankets over her sleeping body.

“‘ll be right back, I gotta go and keep me promise,” I whisper against her cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear naked of earrings. My footsteps only begin after pressing a kiss to her cheek, assuring myself I’ll be back within moments to give her another.

The nurse shoots me a quick smile on my way out as I make quick work of the tears, and silent words pass between us albeit for the quiet ‘thank you’ and ‘good job’ she rewards me with.

“You might be my favourite, even though you’re not supposed to be getting into that bed with her,” she grins, her ponytail bobbing as she shakes her head at me jokingly. “You lot sure have a connection, so don’t be going anywhere for too long, she might miss you too much.”

“Thanks, I won’t be gone long. I uh, jus’ gotta go make sure o’ sumthin’.”

“That mum of hers, I hope?” she wonders aloud, turning her body towards me ever so slightly in her olive green scrubs.

A nod of mine answers her words and her ‘good luck’ rings in my ears as I walk away, glancing over my shoulder one last time at Becks, searching for a strength that I need. She’s never disappointed me when I look for it in her, whether it was years ago when she pulled me out of my shell, helped me through my granddad’s death, or just the other night when I found my way back to her and never left. This isn’t one of those dire times, but I know that she needs me to do this for her, no matter the absence of her question.

I’m uncertain if I’m surprised to see the strange figure standing in the family room, or the tension already electric in the air when I arrive. It only worsens when a few of them turn around to look at me, and the blame falls away instantly when Chuck and Robbie’s faces plummet at the sight of mine. It all wads into a ball and is thrown at her when the anger builds on hers.

“You need t’ leave,” I announce, a sniffle worming its way into my words. I couldn’t care less about the sight of my red-rimmed eyes or the tears that fall from them now. All I hope is that my many years in law will pay off for this argument that I so desperately need to win. “It wasn’t a good idea t’ come, she doesn’t want you here. I think that’s rather obvious from what jus’ happened.”

Her features crease into that of a bulldog, ready to pounce, but I was ready for this before I even stepped foot in this room. “What do you know, being her new boyfriend and all? You hardly even know her, I reckon . . She’s my daughter and she almost died,” she insists with a spiteful grin sticking to her lips.

“What’s that matta? Ya weren’t there fer her when she was alive, so why’d ya come now?” I spit out, and am instantly rewarded with the image of the words slapping her in the face. “I do know what’s bloody best fo’ her, and what’s best fo’ her right now ‘s fer you t’ leave and not come back. She doesn’t want you here, I dunno how many times I gotta fookin’ say it. She’s been thru’ hell and back, and ‘s tryna figure out what tha bloody hell this new life ‘s and how t’ function again whilst bein’ on several meds and stuck inna hospital bed. Let her bloody rest so she can get betta and heal, if ya even care ‘bout her ya’d leave her be t’ get betta,” I sigh, turning on my heel to place my back to them. Her fiery gaze beats against my neck as I let the tears fall, not bothering to clean them up, because I can only deal with one mess at a time.

“Who the fuck was that, and who does he think he is?” she retorts, seemingly more to herself and those around her than to myself, her voice only a ghost now.

“That’s Harry,” Chuck answers, something shining through in his voice that I can’t quite decipher.

“Harry? You mean her boss, Harry?” Kate responds, taken aback.

“No, right now that’s Harry. Her best friend and boyfriend, Harry,” he tells her, and I think I hear it finally, just rounding the corner. It accompanies the chuckle that floats down the hallway after me.

It’s pride.

The very same feeling glues itself to me as I take long steps back to her, thoroughly aware of how much better it feels to come back to her than it is to leave her. Even in her sleep, she seems to retain that feeling of hers amidst all of the drugs, because when I sit down next to her, I watch those pretty eyes open.

“Harry.”

“Hi, honeybug. Go back t’ sleep, everything’s okay, yer mum’s gone,” I tell her, cradling her cheek in my hand, because I’m sure that if my words somehow hadn’t done it, that Chuck will make sure of her exit.

“Okay,” she sighs softly, her eyelids fluttering closed. I lean over her and press whispers of kisses to her eyelids, leading me to find that dimple like a ghost in her left cheek. “Harry?”

“What ‘s it, bug? Ya need yer rest, ‘s almost bedtime,” I hum, settling back onto the chair. My eyes fall from her when a warmth finds my hand now, and I smile at the appearance of her hand lacing with mine.

“I love you,” she whispers, and everything stills around me, and inside of me. My head snaps up and over to her calm exterior that soon blurs in front of me as a breathy laugh coats my lips.

“I love you too, Becks,” I return quickly, tears adorning my words and leaving them to break in the air.

The dimple remains alive in her cheek when her eyes creak open and meet mine briefly before I steal a kiss from her lips. So, it wasn’t a fluke the other night, afterall. Hmm.

“Get some sleep, ‘ll be here when ya wake up,” I coo against her hair, cradling her head with my hand.

“You too,” she yawns, closing her eyes and wiggling around in the bed, and I swear that I couldn’t have seen something more beautiful in all of my days. She just keeps surprising me though, and making me wonder how she could ever become more gorgeous, or more importantly, how I could ever come to love her more.

I know that tomorrow she’ll change that, and the day after that, and after that, when my heart will grow another size to love her a little bit more.

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ranger-jedi-knight · 4 years ago

Text

Angel Wings Darken Chap 3

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26286832/chapters/64015168 ok so here is part 3 of @chocolate1721 prompt!! I hope you guys enjoy!

First up, the reactions of Paris after watching that live stream!!!

When news of a live stream coming from the Ladyblog came up, naturally everyone clicked on it to watch.

Why wouldn’t they?

The creator of the site, Alya Cesaire, told everyone she was going to America with her friends for a class trip. So they were curious what she would be live streaming. Gotham had its own villains. So they were curious.

But oh.

Oh.

They were not prepared for what they saw.

Ladybug in front of everyone dressed differently. Wearing a suit like Joker who was in the background fighting Batman. Deep red combat boots, a black dress shirt tucked into black pants, covered by a tux vest that was red with black polka-dots, her gloves were black with red fingers. Her hair was longer in higher-up pigtails, the tips dyed red and purple respectively. The only thing that remained of Ladybug was her mask.

But that just showed her ice-cold eyes.

It was like they were frozen over as they looked over the class in front of her.

Only warming up to that familiar warmth when they landed on a couple of people, the mayor's daughter Chloe and Bruce Wayne’s son Damian. They were the only two to get that warmth.

Everyone could only watch, shocked, as she-Bug she’s going by Bug now- slapped and kicked Adrien. It practically gave the people of Paris whiplash. She went from being gentle, kissing Damian’s cheeks as she spoke, to being harsh and violent by hitting Adrien.

The cackle leaving her lips had a chill going down their spines.

Sabine and Tom could barely breath as they watched the screen in their bakery.

Every time Bug yelled, it froze every Parisians veins. They have never heard her so angry before. And that was something. They’ve all seen her angry and annoyed. How could they not? Some Akuma battles were annoying or frustrating. Especially when they realized Chat wasn’t doing much work to help. He was sexually harassing Ladybug.

Everyone could see that.

Well, almost everyone.

That class Ladybug was yelling at didn’t seem to understand as they stanned the LadyNoir ship. But everyone else?

They could tell.

They could also tell that Ladybug was young.

And shouldn’t have to deal with it.

Everyone jerked when the saw her stalk toward Alya and rip the phone from her grasp to speak to the live stream.

“Hello, Paris. As you may have seen, it’s me, Ladybug,” she spat the name out. “But I've changed. I now go by Bug. And since they know, you get to know as well. In my civilian life, you know me as Marinette Dupain-Cheng and know Chat Noir as Adrien Agreste. these three people,” she turned the camera to Lila’s bowed form, Alya’s scared face, and Adrien’s red-hand shaped blotched face, “have been making my life hell. But oh, they had help,” she said panning the camera out to the rest of the class. “Those lovely sheep followed the Liar called Lila Rossi’s every word, never checking a single thing she spewed. You can thank them for turning me into this new me. I go by Bug now. I’m helping Joker. and Hawkmoth, Mayura, if you know what's good for you, leave your miraculous at my balcony unless you want to see what a protege of Joker can do,” she gave the camera a sinister smirk as she shoved the phone back into Alya’s grip.

The rest of the live-stream went by, but Paris barely paid any attention.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was Ladybug.

AND HER CLASS DROVE HER INTO WORKING WITH JOKER.

Fear gripped everyone's hearts as they watched what happened on screen, not even listening anymore.

But no one had more fear in their hearts than Gabriel and Nathelie.

Well, maybe Tom and Sabine were close.

They just learned their daughter was Ladybug, and that they’ve been believing a stinking little liar instead of her. When the live-stream ended, chaos erupted.

Every news station was doing a piece on it and the French Government was scrutinizing Collège Françoise Dupont. The school board was close behind them, wondering what on earth was going on over there that allowed the Star Student to be bullied so hard she joined Joker.

They were also calling everyone they could in Gotham to get those students back and deal with them. They would leave Chloe there thou.

They couldn’t force Marinette back into France. So, they could only hope Chloe would help calm her down.

So the mayor texted his daughter and got the confirmation that she would do what she could to help Marinette but that there weren't any promises.

Within the day, the class was scheduled to come back to Paris.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Police escorted the class to the airport, wanting them out of the country quickly. Adrien was walking fine, he just groaned softly when he breathed. Alya had her arm in a sling so that her shoulder could heal and not get agitated. Lila wouldn’t look anyone in the eye. Just stared at her feet as her nose throbbed. The lady manning the desk scoffed when she saw Lila, causing her to curl into herself.

They were seated in the back of the plane, many rows before them empty. Only the first class seats and a couple rows behind first class had anyone on them. One row halfway between the two had two officers seated, making sure no one tried anything. Adrien was sitting by himself, rubbing his ring finger which was burned and wrapped. His miraculous revoked, leaving a mark as a permanent reminder that he could never be Chat Noir again nor could he wield any other miraculous.

Alya was in a similar position. Nino thou…

Nino was hurt, but he knew, he understood. And he would do everything in his power to make it right. Unknown to them, Alix was also like that. She was fuming. The watch she had been given was taken from her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bug sneered at the group as they stood outside the airport. The class jerked at seeing her land in front of them. She smirked at that. Her cold gaze going over them, lingering on Adrien, Alya, Nino, and Alix. As Bug stood there not doing anything, people got out their phones to record, wondering what was going to happen after what happened the first time.

“Oh, you thought I was about to let you keep your miraculous, Agreste?” Bug said with a cackle. Adrien flinched, gripping the ring with his other hand as Plagg flew out of his pocket and went over to her.

“Plagg!” he shouted betrayed and the kwami just shrugged.

“Sorry kid. I gave you enough chances,” Plagg said before looking at Bug once more. “I’m sorry I let it get this bad, Bug. I tried, but I couldn’t get him to change,” Plagg continued sadly. Bug just cooed softly to the kwami.

“It’s ok, Plagg. I know. You tried. Agreste isn’t worthy, he doesn’t show the capacity to change,” she said looking Adrien in the eyes. “Adrien Agreste, as the Guardian of the Miraculous, I hereby renounce you as Chat Noir. You are no longer worthy of wielding Plagg and you shall never wield another miraculous,” She said, her voice seemingly multiplying as she looked down at Adrien when her head tilted back. A faint glow emanated from Bug’s eyes as she spoke.

Adrien cried out as the ring around his finger started burning. Everyone watched scared as Adrien scrambled to remove the ring but it wouldn’t move. But then after a bit, the ring flew off Adrien’s finger and Bug caught it with ease, a sneer on her lips as she watched Adrien on the ground curling around his branded finger. That brand will be a reminder and make sure he never touches another miraculous. She then looked to the other class members.

“Nino, Alya, Alix, step forward,” she commanded and the three couldn’t stop themselves as they stepped forward, Bug’s many voices ringing around them. She looked at the ex-couple with contempt, she only felt slightly bad for Nino, the boy was only following his girlfriend but paid for it when he asked about a couple lies that didn’t make sense. Alya broke up with him soon after. But he didn’t apologize to Mari or try helping her. So she didn’t feel too bad about what she was about to do.

“Wha-what do you want?” Alya asked, her voice trembling.

“Alya Cesaire, as the Guardian of the Miraculous-” she started and Alya interrupted her with a sob.

“No-no please-!” she sobbed out but Bug continued on like she hadn’t been interrupted.

“-I hereby renounce you as a Rene Rouge. You are no longer worthy and will never be worthy of wielding a miraculous,” she said and Alya gasped and sobbed as right were the fox necklace usually rested, a brand was marking itself. Bug then turned to Nino who bowed his head, his fists clenched as he waited.

With a wobbly voice he said, “I am so sorry Marinette. I deserve everything you dish out to me. Ii failed you as a friend and as Carapace. I’m sorry for being a failure. Please tell Wayzz I’m sorry for not being a good hero.” Bug watched as tears fell down Nino’s cheeks. Her face softened a bit, knowing how sincere Nino was being.

“Nino Lahiffe, you have let me and Paris down. As the Guardian of the Miraculous, I hereby give you this warning, if you are truly sincere in your remorse, you are being given one chance to make it up. Prove to me that you deserve to wield a miraculous again. Only when you have proven yourself worthy will you be able to wield a miraculous,” Bug said and Nino gasped as a mark in the form of a turtle-the same shape as the miraculous he wore oh so long ago- formed on his wrist. It didn’t hurt much, like what he imagined getting a tattoo would feel like really. He just gripped over the spot and took deep breaths, only wincing occasionally.

Bug then turned to Alix who had taken a step back in shock, trying to escape but unable to move. The other three were able to move back, being helped by their classmates as a medical personnel looked over the brands. Only Nino didn’t need anything besides some soothing lotion.

“Alix Kubdel,” Bug started going closer to the girl and circling her. By then, Batman was there standing back since he didn’t know how to proceed since she wasn’t exactly doing anything bad. Just marking them to never wield the sacred jewels ever again. “Your family was entrusted with the bunny miraculous. But with it passing to you, a grave mistake has been made. But it was always a mistake, for two bunny miraculouses have been in this time for too long. It’s time to remedy that,” she said reaching a hand out and the pocket watch flew from Alix’s pocket into Bug’s hand. “I cannot trust you to hold this without abusing its power to change history. It shall merge with it’s counter to become whole. But you shall never have it back nor wield any other miraculous,” she said and Alix gripped her hip as it burned. She then looked over the cowering class and scoffed. “None of you will ever wield a miraculous again if you ever did,” she said knowing a few others had used a miraculous but only once. While Alix hadn’t she wasn’t going to risk Fluff. She didn’t say anything while giving them a disgusted look before swinging away, flipping throu the air as she disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Paris got to watch that happen from the many people that recorded it. Some live streamed it on Youtube, some put it onto Twitter, others Tumblr, and a few sprinkled onto other social media platforms. It was a shock to watch it. Mr. Kubel was especially pissed off. He just learned that he held a miraculous all this time and instead of handing it over to Ladybug, he gave it to his daughter who was a hot-head. But he couldn’t have known.

But he still felt horrible.

He should have known.

By the time the plane landed, Damocles was gone from office, a worker for the Board was waiting at the gate to give Bustier her pink slip, and several officers and lawyers were waiting beside them to take Lila Rossi, Alya Cesaire, and Adrien Agreste into custody.

Lila has done so many despicable things that are currently being broadcasted to the world. Alya harassed and assaulted Marinette and enabled Lila and Adrien and slandered many peoples names. Adrien, he sexually harassed Marinette, enabled Alya and Lila, and endangered citizens by negligence.

When they exited, the three were taken into custody and walked to a cruiser. Their parents-excluding Gabriel since the man barely ever left and they couldn’t blame him if he was embarrassed by his son-followed after the police. They watched as they got into two cruisers. Lila and Alya both had quite a few lawyers go to them while Adrien only had two.

After that, the parents got into their own cars and followed after the cruisers, calling for lawyers as they drove to the station. Parisians all sneered at the passing police cars throwing what they held at the backseats.

The occupants flinched every time when one hit.

But oh.

Lila was also pissed.

Everything was crumbling from underneath her. Her kingdom, gone. And it was all HER fault. She snarled and looked around hoping to see a glimpse of an Akuma. But she couldn’t find any, a soft growl leaving her throat as Alya looked at her scared. When they arrived at the station, Lila had to be held down by two guards and marched inside. She kept squirming and fighting, wanting to make a break for it and get what she deserves. She was going to get revenge.

She couldn’t stand losing to Marinette. She was afraid at the moment Bug appeared. But.

The next time she saw Bug, she was going to attack.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time Lila saw Bug was in court. Somehow, Chloe and Damian got Marinette to go to Paris. Marinette had the most chilling expression on her face as she entered the courtroom and walked up to the witness’s seat. She held open disdain for Lila and the others sitting waiting to be called guilty. The lawyer for them didn’t try hard to get them free or even a plea or deal. He was going throu the motions hoping they’ll get guilty and the worst punishment possible.

Lila snapped when she saw Marinette. With a snarl she shot up and threw her hands out to attack Marinette. Marinette smirked as Lila came at her.

Within seconds Lila was tied up in a yo-yo, face pushed against the tiles with Marinette standing above her with a smirk, pushing her down into the tile. Leaving Lila raving against the tiles, frustrated tears leaving her. “You bitch! I should have killed you in Gotham! Hawkmoth should have let me kill you, you little bitch! You won’t get away with this!” she shouted out and no one in the court dared breath at that.

“Hawkmoth is no more, Lie-la. Before I came down here I picked up his and Mayura’s miraculouses off my balcony. Your partner has abandoned you. He knew what was good for his health,” Marinette said with a smirk and Lila froze as she glimpsed their miraculouses in Marinette’s hands.

Marinette smirked as she watched the officers jerk Lila up and handcuff her hands and feet to keep her from fleeing. With a nod from the judge she’s cuffed to the seat so that they could continue the trial.

Lila just doomed herself to never see the outside again from her prison cell in Italy.

Ok, so here it is!! Paris’s reaction(and the parents to some degree) about what happened! The next chap will focus on Gab n Mari’s parents! So until next time!! -Love Wila<3<3<3

P.S. there MAY be another dark mari fic coming ur way~~

#darkish mari #fanfic #fanfic update #my writing #Angel Wings Darken #AWD #part 3 #daminette #maribat #ml x dc #ooc joker??

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salthaven · 5 years ago

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Stupid and in Love: Origins, Part Two

Chapter Two: Origins, Part Two

Nino’s first day of school was okay. He supposes that it could have gone better. On one hand, it sucks that Miss Bustier forced him to sit in the front. But on the other hand, he gets to sit closer to Nette, so that’s rad.

Plus, he sits alone. So he can chill out and not worry about getting in a desk partner’s space.

He kind of wishes he had the nerve to ask Nette to sit with him. But she seems happy beside that new girl...Alya, yeah? Yeah. She seems chill. He’s glad Nette made a friend, she needs them.

The rest of the day went as usual, you know? He got told off for trying to listen to music when class started, he got distracted by seeing Nette for a minute (just a minute, he swears), and, oh yeah, his classmate turned into a supervillain and started rampaging all over Paris.

Fun times, fun times.

Okay, no, this is a fever dream or something, right? Nino imagined yesterday, right?

Wrong.

It’s all over the news. Every news channel talks about Stoneheart’s rampage from yesterday, covers Ladybug and Chat Noir’s superhero debut, and then panics over the sudden appearance of stone monsters that are as still as statues.

Nino passes one of them, frozen in place. It’s bizarre. It’s unreal.

Nino slips through the entrance, then pauses. Turning around, he sees Marinette, who stares at a stone monster with...guilt? Or maybe it’s fear.

Either way, Nino finds himself walking over to her, slowly moving his hands to tug down his headphones.

“Nette!” Nino calls out, and she jumps, eyes darting away from the monster.

“Hey, Nino,” she says, smiling awkwardly. “How are you?”

He shrugs. “Doing as well as I can. It’s surreal, isn’t it?”

“More like awesome!” Alya shouts as she races up to the two. She waves her phone frantically. “Guys, I got the best footage of Ladybug yesterday! She was so cool!”

“Really?” Marinette asks, and the word seems strangled. “But look at all of these Stonehearts. Don’t you think she should have stopped this?”

Alya brushes off Marinette’s concerns. “Don’t worry, girl, I bet Ladybug will have this fixed before we notice! She’s epic, I’m telling you. I think I’m going to make a blog about her- I could call it the Ladyblog! That has a nice ring, don’t you think?”

Nino watches how Marinette shrinks in on herself, shrugging. “I, I don’t know. What about Chat Noir? He seems to have a hang of the whole hero thing, maybe you should base the blog on him?”

Alya shrugs. “I can’t come up with a good name for a Chat Noir themed blog, but good idea!”

“So you’re like a, uh, Lois Lane?” Nino asks. “Reporting on the heroes, fangirling on the side?”

Alya shrugs, a smirk growing. “Hey, if it means Chat Noir wants to sweep me off my feet, he can go right ahead.”

Nino snorts and holds open the door to the school. The girls pass him, and then he says, “So, see a hero for one day and fall for him?”

“What can I say? I love superheroes.” Alya pockets her phone as she shoves open the locker room’s door. “And if I can’t be a hero, I might as well report on them, you know?”

“But if you could be a hero, would you?” Marinette asks. Nino blinks, surprised by the urgent tone in Marinette’s voice. Is she...is she okay?

‘She’s just stressed,’ Nino reasons with himself. ‘She needs to focus on something, get her mind off of the frozen Stonehearts.’

“Of course!” Alya doesn’t hesitate, grinning. “I’d be thrilled to fight beside Ladybug and Chat Noir! Imagine that.”

Marinette tugs on one of her pigtails, a nervous habit of hers that Nino has caught onto. “What about being Ladybug?”

Alya snorts. “Yeah, right. Like I could replace her.”

Marinette frowns. “I’m sure you could. She didn’t do that great yesterday.”

Nino pauses, then sets his textbook back in his locker. Turning to Marinette, he asks, “Nette, why don’t you like Ladybug?”

“Huh?” She seems startled by the question, and Nino flushes.

“You just, well, you keep talking about how bad Ladybug was, and that she messed up...do you not like her?”

Marinette waves her arm frantically, shaking her head. “No! No, I just meant that, uh, she’s just getting so much praise and Chat isn’t but she doesn’t seem to know what she’s doing and I-”

“Girl,” Alya says calmly, patting Marinette’s shoulder, “it’ll be fine. I know it’s scary, but you need to relax. Ladybug is new, but she’ll figure it out. She’s smart.” Alya winks. “I’ve seen her up close, the girl is clever.”

Marinette slumps. “If you say so.” She shuts her locker and turns to Nino. “You have everything you need?”

Nino grabs his textbook, then nods. “Yeah! Let’s go.”

The walk to class is a bit quiet, but Alya rambles on about how Ladybug’s crazy plan to defeat Stoneheart yesterday. Nino can tell that Alya is trying to help Marinette calm down, but Marinette just seems defeated.

He hopes that Ladybug and Chat Noir will fix everything, and soon. He hates seeing Nette look so down.

Stepping into the classroom, Nino is surprised to see a new student. The boy looks, well, he looks annoyed, throwing out a piece of gum as he scolds Chloé.

“Seriously, you can’t put gum on someone’s seat just because they upset you!” He admonishes. Chloé, for her part, just rolls her eyes.

“Of course I can, Adrikins. Listen, you haven’t been here before, but you’ll understand. She’s awful!”

“I doubt anyone deserves that, Chloé,” ‘Adrikins’ responds.

“Oh what’s she doing now?” Alya asks, glaring at Chloé.

The blond boy turns to face her, eyes wide. “Are you Marinette?”

Marinette clears her throat, eyes inquisitive as she steps forward. “I’m Marinette.”

He smiles awkwardly. “Your seat might be a little...sticky. I tried to remove most of the gum, but I’m not sure if I was able to get all of it.” He huffs, side-eyeing Chloé. “I wouldn’t have had to worry about it if someone had just restrained themselves.”

Chloé scoffs. “Puh-lease. Adrien, she’s horrible. She deserves it.”

“Oh, I’m horrible?” Marinette asks, and it’s like a fuse has been lit within her. Suddenly, she’s glaring at Chloé with a venom Nino has never seen in the sweet and timid girl. “Because, last I checked, I’m not the girl who goes around bullying everyone in this class, and kicking kids out of their seats because their precious ‘Adrikins’ is going to sit in the spot in front of them!”

Nino blinks, surprised that Marinette yelled at Chloé. It was kind of hot, he’s not going to lie.

Chloé laughs, sitting down in Nette’s old seat. “Oh no, I’m so scared. What are you gonna do, Dupain-Cheng? It’s not like you’ve ever done anything before.”

Marinette inhales deeply, summoning her courage. Then she speaks calmly. “Move.”

“What?”

“Get out of my seat. Move.”

“Puh-lease. It’s my seat, fair and square!” She smirks. “So you can just shut up and go back to your new seat.”

Marinette scowls, opening her mouth...and then shuts it. Suddenly, the fight goes out of the bluenette. She backs up, looking down. “I…” the bell rings before Marinette can finish her sentence. She sighs and slips into her seat.

Nino glares at Chloé before sitting in his spot. Adrien awkwardly sits beside him.

“I’m sorry,” Adrien says, and Nino can tell that the blond is sincere. “Chloé and I have been friends for as long as I can remember, I didn’t know she was like...this. She’s been my only friend my whole life.”

Nino cringes. “That’s rough, bro.”

He shrugs. “I tried to talk to her, but I’m not sure how much Chloé cares. Is she always like this?” He looks afraid of the answer, fidgeting with a silver ring on his finger.

“Yeah, man, Chloé is the worst.”

Adrien sighs. “I never knew. Wow, I stink at making friends.”

“Hey, I’ll be your friend!” Nino smiles, patting Adrien on the back. “So now you have a better record. And I bet Nette and Alya will want to be your friends, after seeing how you scolded Chloé. That was epic, man!”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Adrien smiles. “I’m glad. Marinette didn’t deserve that.”

He’s right. She didn’t. She doesn’t deserve any of Chloé’s comments or insults. Nobody does.

Maybe it’s time that Nino starts standing up for himself, too. Like Nette did, even if it was just for a moment…

The door slams open as Miss Bustier calls Ivan’s name, pulling Nino out of his thoughts. Stoneheart stands in the doorway, growling.

“Chloooooé,” he drawls out. “Mylèèèèèène.” He walks towards the two girls, grabbing them and stalking out. Nino is vaguely aware of screaming, of footsteps pounding as his classmates race away in fear. He watches Adrien as he darts off, muttering something about hiding, stares at Alya as she pulls out her phone, as she says something about how she needs to record the fight, sees how Marinette darts after the girl with wide eyes and frantic words falling out of her mouth, carrying Alya’s bag with her.

He jumps up, chasing after Marinette. He can’t let her get hurt!

He can’t find her. He can’t find her, and she’s going to get hurt and-

Nino watches as an old man trips and falls over. He rushes over and helps.

“Are you okay, du- sir?” Nino asks. The man nods, smiling slightly.

“Yes. Thank you, young man. Are you alright?”

“Huh?”

“You seemed to be worried,” the man says, resting on his cane. “Is something the matter?”

“My friend, Nette,” Nino finds himself saying. “She raced after our friend Alya, and I’m worried Nette will get hurt. I can’t really tell Alya to stop, I just met her, but Nette is one of my first friends and I don’t, I can’t let anything happen to her.” Words. They make sense, right?

The old man smiles knowingly. “She’s special to you, isn’t she?”

Nino nods, unsure of what to say.

The man hums. “Perhaps you should head back to your school. Maybe you will figure out what to do there, yes?”

Nino shrugs. “I, maybe?”

“Lockers are a good area to hide, if the monster comes by,” the man advises, and then hobbles off. Then he pauses, and says, “Take good care of your friends, okay? I’m counting on you, Nino.”

Determination fills him. “I will, du- sir!” He turns to head back to school, then freezes. Turning around, he starts, “Wait, how did you know my-”

The man is gone.

Nino shakes it off. Maybe he told the man? But he doesn’t remember mentioning his name. Does it matter?

Nino heads to the locker room, trying to come up with a plan. Alright, so he lost track of Marinette, there’s a bunch of Stonehearts all over Paris, and he’s supposed to protect Marinette...how?

Opening his locker, Nino finds an oddly shaped box. Confused, he opens it.

A turtle shaped thing flies out, and eyes him with a somewhat downcast expression.

“You must be Nino,” the turtle greets. “Very well. I am Wayzz, your Kwami. We must act quickly, to help out Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

Suddenly, Nino has a way to protect Nette...and all of Paris, too.

This’ll be interesting.

#Stupid and in Love #ninette #nino you're already in love slow down let the story catch up #give nino more showtime i love him

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 5 years ago

Text

What’s wrong? (Tj Hammond) (Pt.1)

Characters: Bi!TJ Hammond x Asian!Female!Reader

Summary: You're an overseas worker and is in a relationship with TJ, but people can't seem to accept the differences between you both even by financially and background wise.

Warning: Kisses. Public making out. Mention of threesome but no lemon. Lmao. HOT, SEXY GIF'S which can make your phone fly. No angst yet. Annoying racist journalist. Mention of doing the birds and the bees but it wasn't written. Heehee!

Words: 4000+ (IT'S LONG AF. 😂 There’s a part 2 which will be posted soon if ya want?)

A/N: I always tend to write long ass oneshots for TJ Hammond. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Because maybe I'm the only one enjoying this? Lmao. GO BE CRAZY WITH YOUR FEEDBACKS, TATER TOTS! IT’S TIME FOR SOME ASIAN FEMALE READERS!

Disclaimer: GIF'S and pictures used are not mine. Only the edits are and the oneshot of course. 😉 Credits to the owners of the GIFS.

"They're not gonna accept me, Teej." Your heart sank from the moment those words came out of your lips, it was like a curse that made your heart feel heavier with every beat. Those were just the mere, honest truth that was inevitable to come out.

You didn't want to beat behind the bush. From the moment TJ asked you to be his partner for the engagement party that was soon to happen for Douglas and Annie, the anxiety crept up your heart, jumping towards your head that made you speak the honest truth.

You knew deep down that your ethnicity and your background was making it difficult for you, for the both of you and for everyone.

TJ immediately sensed the disheartened change in your voice as he was mindlessly trying to help chop the vegetables needed, standing in front of the kitchen island. On the other hand, you were preparing the beef for the Stir fried noodles you opted to make, in request to the whiny Hammond boy living in yours and his apartment.

You felt gentle arms snake around your waist and instantly you knew whose arms were that from. Tj leaned down, his head beside yours as he adjusted to your five foot one height. You felt his lip on your cheek, peppering soft kisses till he reached your ear. "Am I hearing you right? Was that a whine I heard? As far as I know, I'm the whiny boyfriend here," Tj whispered and chuckled, feeling his hot breath fanning against your ear made you quietly gush in his arms.

"Thomas! Stop, You know I got the tickles there!"

Tj felt the need to be playful, in account to your saddened state. He continued blowing at your ear, "Oh, so now I'm only Thomas to you?" Chuckles and giggles rang around your apartment. Joyful laughters that was perfect to record and watch at any time of the day. Tj haven't been that happy since his recent breakup. From a political fool who he thought had loved him, but end up abusing and using the love he has been giving in the end.

Despite of his crestfallen, past relationship, you suddenly came along. He was utterly depressed and went back to being a druggie. After months have passed of being clean, the addiction came along after the heartbreak. Yet, it was stopped once again from the moment you came along. Basically, you were the rainbow after his rain and he ought to see the light from you forever glowing.

"Hey, hey," Tj pulled you away from your wandering, negative thoughts. Never forgetting to give your head a kiss, feeling the warmth spreading all over your body, "You gotta stop being a pessimist," He cocked his head, an eyebrow rising as he collected his thoughts, "Just..relax, everything's going to be fine I swear,"

You turned the gas range off, sighing and whipping around once you did, meeting a very soft, sweet looking Hammond boy whose eyes were the prettiest out of all the blues out there. Your lip was now in between your teeth, biting the flesh from overthinking what was bound to happen soon. "You always say that, and I'd rather expect the worst, Teej because you're in a relationship with me."

"What's wrong being in a relationship with you? I don't find anything wrong about it," He sassily shrugged, caressing your hip with his thumbs in utmost tenderness, "Anne's Asian, from a different ethnicity but they don't get to say their complaints or problems about it, Y/N."

You bit your lip harder, eyebrows furrowing from thinking too deep, "Anne's from a wealthy family, Tj. And I'm...I'm..from trash,"

"Which I was lucky to find because I have rummaged a diamond in the dumps," He chuckled, his laugh sounding angelic to you. You fought off a smile, the anxiety was still swallowing you whole, making everything more complicated for you. "It's not funny, you're just making my anxiety worse,"

Tj had to put more effort in distracting you, and so he tried harder. "Come on, Baby. Lighten up, nothing's gonna happen, it's going to be a boring day for us because the party was probably a way to bring those stormtroopers all together," He licked his lips, looking at you straight in the eyes with such shine that could make your heart go all putty. "Just be my plus one, be the good girl you are while we suffer this together, Deal?"

"I dunno, Teej. What do I get in return upon agreeing to this so called...deal of yours?" You purred, tracing the outline of his pectorials bulging out of his tight black shirt. A lopsided smile on your lips.

"Hmm," Tj playfully hummed, his head falling till he reached your ear, never forgetting to give it a tender bite, "Maybe some steamy shower with me, I suppose?" The naughty Hammond boy suggested with a tiny chuckle, his voice dropping an octave lower, even with a suggestive tone that reached down inside your pantaloons, making you squirm in his grasp. "That is..if you're up to it?"

"But--how about the food--" You stammered, finding it hard to say no.

"We could always start with the dessert first, Love." and you certainly didn't object after that.

✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*

Tons of people with class that were worth a million dollars came lounging in. Small talks, and fake hi's were their main objective. Wealthy, power hunger crocodiles seem to sound appropriate for their understandable behaviors. Other people appeared to enjoy communicating with anyone whom they can see as wealthy and famous, making them look like a total gold digger or a social climber who likes to be friends with people whom are high-class.

Everything that was happening around you was making you shake your head in animosity. Another set of anxiety creeping you in. How did you even end up in Tj's home when everybody had given you the stink eye, jealous, thirsty women scanning your appearance and history from head to foot if that was even possible.

They were probably wondering how Tj was in a relationship with a substandard woman like you who lived in the eastern part of the world. Well, Sexuality-wise..They were certainly stunned to see the former first son gay icon renegade turned miraculously bisexual, acting all touchy-feely and having thoughts inside their judgemental minds as to why he kept staring at you, looking all lovestruck and whipped.

"Y/N!!! Sweetheart!" You jumped from the huge, beige couch as you lounged beside your boyfriend. A half empty Martini in hand. You could see Margareth, Tj's grandmother marching your way. Her hips swaying with her heels. Her smile never fading once she saw how you still kept your relationship with her complicated grand son, Thomas.

"Tj's keeping you all to himself! This kid can be selfish when he wants to," Margareth complained, her voice shaky and senile but a little bit too hyper for her age. She never forgot to playfully smack her grand son's head, "Aw! Nana!" Tj complained with a sweet smile drawn on his face. A smile that Margareth remembered when he was still a child back in the white house.

Finally, she thought. It was time she got her grand son back.

"Hey, Nana!" You chimed, a huge grin plastered on your face. Truthfully delighted to see somebody whom gave your heart that warm, familiar feeling. Margareth grabbed you in a hug once you stood up to hug her. Yet, you were too slow to be first. "Y/N," She murmured as she cut the hug. Staring right back at you with a sweet smile while she reached for your face. "I'm really happy you keep my grand son in check and completely elated like who he was back then," Nana muttered, taking glances back at Tj who was busy chatting with one of Elaine's friend.

"Please, don't leave him like how that asshole did, Y/N. I don't know what he'll do next when you do, sweetheart."

"I don't plan to, Nana." You gave a crooked smile, adding a giggle on the end. Your words repeating inside your mind like a mantra. Did you really not thought about that? Margareth smiled, lightly tapping your right cheek with a laugh. "Good," She grabbed another Margarita from one of the waiters who were strolling around, promptly sipping on it. "You're perfect for this family,"

You fit in the family. But, that was in Nana's humble perspective. What about Dougie? Elaine? Especially Bud's point of view? Do they accept you though?

The party went on. It wasn't late yet, though as the time went on, more familiar people came in and began to join in the party. As an awkward human being, you stood on the middle of the floor. All alone sipping on your second Martini. Tj asked you to give him a minute because he had to talk to someone and probably get something in God knows where. You immediately gave your approval, giving him a sweet, innocent, tiny kiss on the lips before practically shoving him away before it took much more than you intended to.

Loud chatters can be heard, controversial topics that reached your ear made you want to raise a brow because of their judgemental thoughts that should be kept locked inside their poisonous minds. 'You sure they ain't putting up an act to cover Tj's real sexuality?' 'I bet he's using her,' 'Or probably it's the other way around, girl.'

'She seems like a lonely bitch,'

You crossed your arms against your chest, the anger bubbling up till it reached your head. Giving you a minor, temporary headache. In your peripheral vision, you could see Tj from the bar, talking to Nana and her circle of friends, with a precious smile on his gorgeous face. It was all glitters and rainbows in his part.

On the other hand, yours were full of shit. You cussed inside the back of your mind. The thick-faced women giggled and they were quite close to you. They probably intended to let you hear their conversation, to stir you up and mess with your temper. Especially that journalists and reporters were around, waiting for something to happen so they could add it in their drafts.

You ignored them the best you can. Nonetheless, there was always one person who'll irk you and even try to stir up the kindness in you that could change into rage. You sipped on your cocktail drink while staring at the piano in curiosity. Does Tj know how to play? You mindlessly thought inside your mind. Oh, you were about to know and ask him about it. There was a lingering warm presence behind you, and you instantly smiled from ear to ear. Speak of the devil..

However, to your surprise a woman with blue eyes stood tall in front of you. Appearing to have this sense of pride that she was one successful woman. You could tell from head to toe and it made you feel so tiny and unworthy that you were welcomed to join in the party.

"Will you be so kind to answer these questions that I have for you? Ms..??" The lady humbly asked, an innocent smile that hid behind a wicked scheme she had in mind. You couldn't even believe her. How can she ask for an interview from a person whom she doesn't know his/her name?

What a fool indeed.

"Y/N." You kept a short answer, a tight smile on show as you sighed out loud which made the reporter raise a brow from your dissatisfaction. How dare you act annoyed when you should feel delighted to be interviewed even though you were one substandard woman whom Thomas Hammond obviously made his worst mistake. The woman thought through her fake smile planted on her thick, injected lips.

"So, let's start off with something simpler, Y/N." She paused, acting all modest with the fakest smile you have ever seen. "Tj's??"

If she wanted to appear stupid, then it was best to say the stupidest answers as well. You breathed in deep breaths. Take it with your big girl panties. You can do this. You can. "Supportive wife?" You spoke as a matter of fact. Snorting a little when you saw her jaw tighten.

The brunette woman couldn't help but snicker, sneaking a tiny roll of her eyes. "I don't see a ring," She snapped, laughing to herself and eyeing you from head to toe. "Or a collar?" She smirked when you kept your hands on your sides, fists completely tight, trying hard not to make a scene. No. Never stoop down to her level, Y/N.

"Hmm," She fixed the lapels of her black blazer, "Obviously, you're the girlfriend. I'm not an idiot, Ms. Y/N."

Your nerves was seriously ticking like a time bomb that was ready to explode. "Really? You seem to be a much bigger idiot than me when you asked for my name, but the truth is..I know you knew who I was," You breathed out harshly, not wanting to start and send off rude remarks that could have endless rebuttals. "If I'm an idiot then why do I own a big advertising company..Unlike you," Miss reporter held her head high with her tall height, eyeing you from head to toe again like it was her nasty habit. "I don't work at any Ching-chong restaurants that spits rice, noodles or kimchi's,"

Well, that made you face palm.

"Do you have any more racist comments that could honestly move me? Because that comment sucks so bad," You held a finger under your eye, trying to wipe away imaginary tears. "Cry me a river, woman."

Tj laughed a boisterous one from what grandma Mercedith just said. She was one of Nana's bestest friend and a sweetheart indeed. Margareth noticed that Y/N wasn't with her grandson, and so she questioned.

"Tj, where's Y/N?"

The latter smiled, those smiles that held teeth and was too picturesque not to ogle at. Nana couldn't help but lift her lips too. "Oh, over there." Tj gestured behind him, towards where the party was, never looking back. Margareth glanced where he was pointing to and saw that Y/N is being interrogated by the infamous reporter slash journalist slash owner of an almost bankrupt advertising company who had no good thing to do but make false hypothesis about every issue especially when it was about the Hammond family.

"Tj," Nana started, sounding disturbed. "If I were you, I won't go leaving Y/N in a place full of sharks wanting to munch on a bait," She pointed towards where Y/N and Rosalie Sparks where. They seem to be exchanging heated conversations because she could see how Y/N was keeping herself together. "The Sasquash is on the move, honey."

"What?" Tj turned their backs away from them. A stern frown appeared to be on show for the folks to see. Finally acknowledging what his Nana has been saying and there they were. His girlfriend and an annoying woman who was planning to offend and get something out of his girlfriend. What was new?

"How's it feel to be unaccepted in the Hammond family? Especially that we know Bud doesn't take a liking on you because of how incompetent you are and how pitiable your family is," Rosalie Spark's chatted like what she was saying are compliments that was meant to fill the heart. Though, it was filling it with dread and anger. "Rich people deserve to only be with rich people too," She clucked on her wine glass with her fancy gold ring, grinning in the process. "While the peasants deserve to stay in the dumps,"

You zipped your mouth. Never stoop down. Never. Silence is the best way to talk back because you knew you were educated, matured and old enough to know how immature she was acting.

"I'm honestly disgusted by Tj Hammond's tastes are in women," She continued, more like talking to herself because you weren't speaking. "Or he's probably just confused for the second time and is actually really..reallyyy into men," The bitch exaggerated.

"Because if I'm in a relationship with you or--" She held her mouth, supressing a giggle that made you want to throw a glass at her. "--to be unluckily sleeping with you, I'll just be gay for all my life, Y/N."

You could feel your eyes turning hotter as each second pass by. God, you were such a pathetic baby. Why had you even agreed to go the party? Obviously because Tj begged you to come with him.

Not a second has passed by when you felt a warm presence snake beside you, and it took you long enough to realize that it was finally your Tj by the looks of his black dress shirt and all black attire. An arm moved around you, clutching onto your waist and Tj felt you were shaking. Probably from anger because that's just who you are.

You'd rather stay quiet despite of how people attack you, you'd rather be kind to rude people than to offend them back and that's how Tj knew you were one of a kind. A special one.

Before you knew it, your heart skipped a beat from the moment he held your jaw with his hand. Ushering your face to look at him, and with one dip of his head he had you enthralled in his spell that could calm you down in the sweetest way. Tj kissed you, right in front of that annoying journalist to probably irritate the heck out of her. He locked your lips with his, teasingly lunging the tip of his tongue inside your parted lips as he closed his eyes. Acknowledging the effect you could only give to him.

You couldn't help but envelope your arms around his figure as you kiss him deep, biting on his lower lip that made you both smirk from how she was certainly already uncomfortable. Physical contact makes people feel awkward. Tj preed his eyes open, seeing the woman with a pathetic aggravated face that made him chuckle as you both kiss.

Oh, she wasn't going anywhere is she?

Tj gave her a grin, never forgetting to give your lip a tender bite that made your insides go mushy and another sweet kiss that made your heart twerk. He was yours and yours alone. Only yours.

"Tiger twat," Tj answered so smoothly with that hot smolder as he looked deep into your eyes. Completely enticed by your spirit with an innocent smile written on his face that wasn't too innocent in your line of vision. You could see the grin and irk threatening to be shown on his beautiful features. Here, you thought he was calling you a tiger twat when it was actually sent to the reporter slash journalist who looked guilty because she seemed to be entirely shook.

"Isn't that your nickname in DC?" He finally gave attention to the tall, angry Sasquash who happened to rudely interview you.

"News spread so fast, Rosalie."

Your loving boyfriend grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes that made her pride and dignity shatter like fragile chinawares. "What's it like to have teeth down there?"

"Your girlfriend's a bitch," Her ego was wavering yet that didn't stop her from trying to have the last laugh. Rosalie hardly bit the insides of her cheeks, remembering the awful night when the famous Tj Hammond who was out and wasted in his club and miraculously happened to reject her amazing, stunning self.

Oh, did she had a petty little crush on him so that was why she was acting so hostile towards you.

"No," Tj shook his head, a wicked grin threatening to come out and a lot of nasty sentences that could get her to crumble. "You're the bitchest out of all the bitch, Rosalie." He chuckled, his arm retreating from your waist as you saw him took a step forward till he reached her ear, bending down to whisper whatever he needed to.

"Don't come attacking my woman when you're still salty about that night," Tj harshly whispered on her ear, his voice turning an octave lower but definitely more harsh, breath hot and fanning, making her toes curl with want and hunger. "I remembered it so well," He chuckled, a sinister one. "I remembered how you were trying to get in my pants, yet my gay self didn't happen to find you attractive nor worth to fuck for a threesome,"

"Besides, I wouldn't want my dick to get chewed by that dry, loose, wrinkly, smelly twat, Sparks."

And just like that, she huffed and was in the verge of crying her frustrations out once she stomped her foot as she retreated. Making Tj form a wide smile that could make your insides turn a twist. What did he say that made the woman act like a bratty crybaby?

"Thomas," You started, seeing Tj walk back to you, enveloping his arms around your waist, leaning down to give you another peck on the lips but you were quick to maneuver your head, making him chase your lips with his. "Thomas," You repeated more sternly but quietly this time. He looked like he was a little smashed. Was he? you hoped he hadn't sniffed anything that could dissapoint you. "Nobody has the right to talk to you like that," He shockingly spat out in aggravation, looking deep in thought as he gorgeously stared into your eyes.

"What did you say to her?"

He shook his head, licking his lips as he whispered. "Nothing. It's not important, Sugar." His eyes was now trained on your lips, looking like he wanted to devour it all night. You couldn't help but smile. "Are you drunk?"

Your Tj drank in all of your beautiful features. Seeming to be mesmerized by your soul. "No, I'm not. I promise," He took a breather, caressing your cheek with his thumb. "I just love you too much. I can't stand them treating you that way,"

"Now, kiss me." He hastily puckered, dipping his head down for the third time and you were quick to adorably cover his mouth like the conservative person you are. "Tj, we're in the middle of--"

Tj didn't hide the roll of his eyes, showing you how much of a kill joy you were. "Do you think I give a damn?" He spoke against your palms, sounding muffled. "Y/NNNNNN,"

You internally rolled your eyes. He was such a baby. Your big baby. "Fine,"

He kissed your palms, planting a loud kissy sound that made people glance your way, his eyes turning adorable crescent moons once you dropped your palms off his lips. "I love youuuu," Tj puckered for the fourth time before grabbing your face in his hands. Kissing the daylights out of you in the middle of an engagement party. Apparently, it was Dougie and Anne's party yet it seemed like you were both having the engagement.

SCREAM OUT FEEDBACKS IF YA WANT A PART 2 OF THIS ONE SHOT BECAUSE THIS HASSSS A SECOND PART TO IT!!!!

XOXO, TATA

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